Riders of the Apocalypse (Book 2): Burning Rubber

by Alex Westmore

  Butcher cocked her head at him. “You really care about them, huh? I mean, I know you care, but they are never far from your mind, are they?”

  “Not them. You guys. You guys never once treated me like I was some stupid little game geek. My whole life, which admittedly hasn’t been very long, I’ve been that geek, that dork, that nerd. Never in a million years did I ever think all that gaming would come in handy. For once in my life, my nerdiness is an advantage. You guys respect that.”

  “First of, you’re not a geek. Dude, since this all went down, have you seen many kids your age? No. Why? Because they weren’t as smart as you, that’s why. All those jocks and popular kids who teased you are dead. They didn’t have it. You did. You win. All those asswipes who used to call you names are either zombies or lying in the belly of one. You are the winner. You are the smartest one.” Butcher mussed up his hair.

  Einstein blushed. “Thanks. I guess…I guess I am.”

  “No, kid. You are.”

  They stood at the bow of the ship in silence for a few minutes before Einstein said softly, “What Luke did was crazy and all, but there’s a fine line between crazy and genius, ya know?”

  Butcher looked askance at him. “Is that so?”

  “Yep. Look, the U.N. doesn’t condone an all-out strike against us, or we’d all be dead. That much we know. We also know that everyone has probably been fighting over our resources as well, yet no one that we know of has set foot on our soil except a few wandering Japanese. What Luke essentially did was send a message to the global guards that we’re still here and in the game. He let them know the American spirit is alive and well and ready to open a can of whoopass on anyone who thinks we’ve just rolled over and played dead. He may very well have bought us more time, and by us, I mean all of the US.”

  “Yeah, well, hot doggin’ it usually gets people killed.” Butcher thought she felt the baby flutter, so she placed her hand protectively over her belly.

  Einstein cocked his head. “So you disagree with what he did?”

  “Not disagree with what he did, but how he did it. It’s not how we do things.”

  “It was a calculated risk made by a very smart soldier. You need to recognize that in him, Butcher. You all do.”

  Butcher finally turned to face Einstein. “Just what are you getting at?”

  He looked at her hand on her belly. “If you don’t want Luke to hover and worry about you and the baby, have Dallas give him the job of leading the garmy. We need someone with battle and military experience, and Luke is just the guy for the job. He was born ready. Not just ready, but aching to do it.”

  “Lead the—he can’t do that, kid. He’s not a CGI. He’s––”

  “A soldier, Butcher, through and through. He bleeds red, white, and blue. Luke is a soldier who now has a family to protect, but you’ve de-balled him.”

  Butcher whirled on him. “Now wait just a—”

  “You can get pissed off all you want, but you’ve got a sheepdog who wants to protect the sheep. Instead, you put him in the barn with the horses.” Einstein started walking away. “A sheepdog would rather die protecting the sheep than live safely with the horses any day, but you’re too stubborn to see that. All of you are. You’re wasting one of the best we have…I’m just sayin’—it’s something to think about, because if you don’t utilize his skill pool, he will. And you now know just what that looks like.”

  He was down below before she could respond.

  “Damn him.” Butcher stopped looking at the shoreline and gazed down at the water in front of the yacht. She hated how smart that kid was sometimes.

  De-balled?

  Butcher cringed. She would have to do something about that.

  Gary wanted to be the first out of the Fuchs once they passed the front gate, but Dallas needed a lot more intel before getting out.

  There were still man eaters roaming about the yard, all wearing bloody and bedraggled orange jumpsuits from the prison. The ZBs were doing a good job of putting them down. One by one, they fell like trees dropped by a buzz saw. Dallas would wait until all were down before opening the ramp, slowly maneuvering the Fuchs through the entrance and then shutting the gate, locking them inside.

  It was the only way to protect the others.

  Once the main gate was closed, they passed through other gates until they arrived at a place called Camp F which resembled the long building of grammar schools from days past.

  “This is good,” Gary said. “Camp F is a group of four minimum custody dormitories and the Dog Pen. The Dog Pen’s got beds for eleven minimum custody inmates. It’s smaller and more manageable for now. We can protect it and stay safe while we clear out the rest.”

  “Why not the main complex?” Dallas asked.

  “Too big by far. If we’d gotten here in the early morning, then maybe, but for this evening, we need to secure a place that ain’t so big. The prison has four dorms in the shape of an X. We can clear those out later, but Camp F only has the four minimum security dorms and the Dog Pen. There’s a lake behind it. They kept it pretty stocked up with fish, too, which oughtta still be in there. Camp F is small enough for us to clean out today. It’ll give ya’ll time to familiarize yourselves with the layout of the prison and be safe before we take them things on.”

  “I’d rather we not use the prison word,” Dallas said. “I don’t want people to feel like it is. Let’s call it Base Camp.”

  “Gotcha. Anyway, Camp F is the easiest area for us to clear out. It’s where the trustees lived, so there ain’t cell after cell of dead folk.” Gary hesitated. “Ma’am, there are likely five thousand dead or undead inmates in the pr—in there. That’s the stench. Cleaning that all up is gone take a while, so we make our main camp here first. Inside. We get everyone situated, and then we gotta burn them bodies.” He looked around. “Gone be dark in there, too, without no lights.”

  Dallas nodded, grateful the five outlaws were now on their side. “Excellent. So we secure the interior of Camp F, and then we’ll work on clearing the exterior of the buildings tomorrow, make sure the fences are still safe, and then figure out the best way to go about clearing the rest out.”

  “That sounds like a real good plan, ma’am.”

  “Then let’s do it. Keep Gary in the center. I need you to refrain from running ahead. You’re the only one who is really at risk here. Let us protect you.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Don’t need to tell me twice.”

  When the ramp lowered, all eight of the CGIs, plus Gary, exited and found the front entrance not only unlocked, but opened.

  “Stay in a square, three rows of three. Kill anything that moves. Do not move out of formation.”

  “Even survivors?”

  “Even survivors.”

  Gary nodded. “Dallas is right. This was maximum security with almost ninety percent on death row. Whoever was in here doesn’t belong with us, and whoever stayed here isn’t someone we wanna play with.”

  Ferdie whistled. “Harsh.”

  “Harsh keeps us alive, Ferdie,” Dallas said. “If it moves, kill it. Are we all clear on that?”

  Apparently, everyone was.

  Once that was cleared up, they all swung their weapons in front of themselves and entered Camp F.

  Camp F didn’t have the feel of prison or lockdown facility. It had a couple of offices, and Dallas could see a dormitory beyond the bars. It was more open than she expected it to be, more well-lit, but the thick stench of death still permeated the air, making it hard to breathe.

  Everyone who could pulled their shirt up over their noses.

  “Okay, folks, this smell means only mean one thing: eaters are probably still alive and slowly rotting.”

  Gary grabbed his rifle and shoved the butt against his shoulder. “This will be the easiest—”

  Everyone stopped moving when they heard it: low growls of dogs or…

  “Coyotes!” Roper shot first, taking out the first to leap from the pack that had managed to
wander inside in search of food.

  Dallas and Churchill shot the next two at the same time, while Zoe and Ferdie took out the last two. The final coyote was shot dead before it could move.

  Everyone stood still, quietly breathing hard, eyes on their gun sights.

  “Jesus H,” someone muttered.

  “We may be CGI, but the rest of the carnivorous world can still tear us to shreds,” Dallas said. “Hence, if it moves, kill it. Don’t hesitate.”

  “Amen to that.”

  As they neared the camp, Churchill leaned over to Roper and whispered, “After being in the bayou, this place is really dark.”

  “Yeah, sorta creepy, huh?”

  “Not sorta.”

  It took three hours to sweep Camp F more than once. Every nook and cranny was searched and re-searched. When Dallas was sure this section of the prison was clear, she left the others to start setting up and walked out to the bus and van group. On her way out, she found a cart with paint and paint gear tipped over. Three rolls of blue paint tape lay on the dusty floor, so she picked one up and wore it like a bracelet.

  When they finally got back outside, there were seven dead ghouls in various places twenty-five feet away from where she had left the group, all put down by the silent but deadly bolts.

  “You guys okay?” Dallas asked Fletcher, staring in appreciation at the crossbow he held. “That’s…well it’s not really a bow, is it?”

  Fletcher grinned. “No ma’am. It’s carbon-fusion with scope and auto load. I am…I was working on the patent when this all went down. It can hold twenty-four bolts at once. Shoots at a blistering four hundred feet per second, and all I have to do is slap on another speed loader to have twenty-four more.”

  “Impressive. No wonder you’re so fast.” She nodded to the dead man eaters. “What happened here?”

  “A few stragglers,” Fletcher said. “We put ‘em down as quickly and as quietly as we could.”

  Henry joined them. “Ma’am, after seeing what Hunter and Fletcher are capable of doing with those toys, me and my guys’d love to learn how to shoot a bow.”

  Dallas patted Henry’s broad back. “Then you’re in luck. There will be scheduled lessons on the docket as soon as we get camp set up. We’ll clean the grounds while the rest of you start setting up shop in Camp F. Once we get the exterior clean, some of you will come out to assist with any repairs of the fencing. You all work it out, but we need about six of you to assist in that.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “It will be dangerous work, so send three of the best shooters. So…here’s what we’ve done. We’ve cleaned out a minimum security building. All ZBs will be required to stay in the building until we sweep the exterior. Only when we know it’s one hundred percent safe in there will we bring the rest of you in. Keep it as secure as you can until we come get you.”

  “What about the boat?”

  Everyone glanced up to the crow’s nest. Otis shook his head and yelled down, “Nothin’ yet.”

  “When they get here, I’ll send a small squad of CGIs to assist in the debarkation and transit from the boat to camp. Once we’re all together, we’ll have a meeting to discuss day-to- day operations and expectations. Any questions?”

  People looked at each other and seemed to be waiting for Benjamin to speak up, which he eventually did.

  “The people on the bus, those you call ZBs—an acronym I’m not fond of, by the way— have chosen me to be their spokesperson.”

  Roper crossed her arms on her chest. “Spokesperson, Benjamin? Really?”

  Dallas let her fingertips lightly brush Roper’s palm. “While I personally feel that’s divisive, if your people feel you need a spokesperson, go ahead.”

  “It’s not divisive, Miss Dallas, it’s common sense. While ya’ll can come and go as you please, the rest of us have to trust that what you decide is in our best interest as well. We’re the addition to your group, not the center group. We gotta look out for our best interest.”

  “I understand that, Benjamin, as long as you don’t interchange spokesperson with leader. It’s far too early in the game for a pissing contest you can’t win.”

  “Can’t?”

  Dallas and the rest of the CGIs stepped forward in unison. “At the moment, you have the numbers, yes, but the moment the boat arrives, if you choose to engage in a pissing contest, you and your people will not only find yourselves in the minority, you’ll find yourselves on the other side of these fences. That choice will come at a price I don’t think they’ll want to pay.”

  “Now wait just a—”

  “What Benjamin meant to say,” a young woman named Angela said, “is that it will be more orderly if we give him our questions instead of all of us bothering you with every petty one. No one is questioning your leadership abilities, Dallas, nor are we trying to be divisive. Benjamin truly was chosen just as a spokesperson.” She practically glowered at him.

  A number of the new ZBs nodded in agreement with her.

  “Thank you for clearing that up, Angela. Now is not the time to be butting heads. If we don’t work together, then surely we will die together. So, does your group have any questions, Benjamin?”

  He hesitated a moment. The air was thick with tension. “We want to know if the division of labor is gonna be equitable, you know? We don’t want all the shit jobs. We have just as many skills as you guys do. We don’t want to be––”

  “Everyone will have to do shit jobs at one time or another. The important thing is for us to know what jobs everyone did in the past and can do now. You have my word it will be equitable. Anything else?”

  Benjamin looked at his group, then turned back to Dallas and Roper. “When we get settled, I think you ought to consider creating a committee.”

  Dallas tilted her head. “A committee?”

  “Yeah. You know. To help make decisions. To carry out––”

  “Oh hell no,” Roper said, shaking her head. “You did not just say that shit. Committee? That’s bullshit. What did she just say about a pissing contest? The committee, jackass, is those of us who are doing our damnedest to keep the rest of you safe. That is the only committee you need to worry about. Capisce?”

  “I see.” He turned to the ZBs for support. None came.

  Dallas held her hands up to keep the murmuring down. “Look, people, we’ll have that conversation when the boat gets here and we get into some kind of routine. Until then, we’re burning daylight. Ferdie, would you show them to their quarters? Everyone find a bunk, grab a bed, but do not leave Camp F. If you leave, consider yourself on your own because we can’t risk letting any eaters in here. Keep your weapons at the ready and get Camp F ready to roll. Six of you stay back for fence repair. We’ve got a lot of work to do and not a lot of time to do it. I want everyone inside before dusk. If you are not in by then, you’ll have to find someplace else to sleep for the night.”

  When the group split up, Fletcher walked by Dallas and whispered, “Talk to Hunter,” before stepping back into the group of six.

  Dallas made a mental note to do so before announcing, “Okay, we’ve got ten thousand acres to cover and less than 6 hours of daylight to do it. Questions?”

  Henry piped up. “I seen some vehicles when we first drove in. Me and Kevin can give ‘em a once over and see if’n we can’t get two goin’. That’ll make fence checkin’ faster and easier.”

  Dallas nodded. “Take two to watch your back while you examine them. Remember, everyone, expect a zombie at every turn. Always think they are right around the corner. Remember that head shots are necessary and if you do have to fire your weapon, the sound will probably bring more, so stay on your toes.”

  Henry nodded and saluted. “Yes, ma’am.” Before he turned to leave, he whispered to Dallas, “As for that spokes guy? Don’t bother worryin’ about him now. He gets outta line, Otis or Kev will have a man-to-man chat with him.”

  Dallas offered him a slight grin. “Thank you, Henry, but hopefully that won’t b
e necessary.”

  As everyone loaded into the Fuchs, Hunter held back. “I overheard Benjamin actually rallying to be the spokesperson. It’s not like someone said, ‘Hey, we need representation.’ This is something he sorta pushed through Congress.”

  Dallas nodded. “I did expect some resistance. Not many men will follow a woman into battle. I just didn’t expect a push back so soon.”

  Hunter shook his head. “Don’t you worry. Even without your boatload of people, you’ve got a core of both CGIs and ZBs who will make sure your leadership isn’t tested. You can count me and my dad among them.”

  “Thank you, Hunter. That means a lot.”

  “Dad’ll keep his ear to the ground for you. So will I.” Hunter hopped into the Fuchs, leaving Dallas and Roper standing by the driver’s side door.

  “Before you get all flared up,” Dallas started, “this is going to happen more than once. You can’t go all postal every time someone challenges me or us.”

  “Sure I can.”

  Dallas laid her palm on Roper’s cheek. “No, my love, you can’t. People are allowed to disagree, to ask questions, to challenge. We can’t get defensive every time someone does.”

  “You can’t, but I can. That’s my job. Don’t tell me not to get all puffed up whenever some asshole thinks he can lead better than you. Uh uh. I’m a honey badger, babe, and Benjamin’s antic was bullshit. This honey badger doesn’t give a shit about him and his ego.”

  Dallas lightly caressed Roper’s cheek. “My honey badger needs to remember that it’s going to take a while for people to recognize the new order to things. Don’t expect them to change overnight, and don’t expect everyone to be as liberal-minded as Californians. The gays being our only real hope isn’t something everyone is going to dance a jig to.”

  Roper kissed Dallas’s palm before growling playfully, “Maybe not overnight, baby, but soon. Real soon. They better be quick learners of the two-step or heads will roll.”

  “The two-step? Really?”

  Roper laughed. “It’s the only dance I know.”