Riders of the Apocalypse (Book 2): Burning Rubber

by Alex Westmore

  “And I can’t believe you don’t. We need to help people, Benjamin, not turn our backs on them. You disagreeing with our plan does not surprise me, but do not get in my way again. I will eat your lunch and then send you packing. Are we clear?”

  He glowered at her. “Yes. I am quite clear about your position here. I just hope you know what you are doing.”

  “I am doing what I think is best. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  Forty-five minutes later, the Beast pulled out with the garmy on the flatbed and the ZBs inside. The weather suddenly became humid and thick. Bouncing across the bumpy terrain, the Beast scooted around the dead vehicles and broken down equipment like a slalom skier. The intense heat was stifling to those on the flatbed, and it felt as if even the bugs had quieted and were waiting to see the outcome of the battle.

  “I hate this sticky heat,” Jamie said as they rambled along. “Even my sweat has sweat.”

  Roper shrugged. “I don’t mind it, but then, I’m a California girl. Give me three-digit heat any time.”

  Zoe readjusted her grip on the metal pole holding the guardrail that rose on one side. “You know, maybe it’s because I’m a blood-thirsty bitch, but I am totally looking forward to crushing some skulls and killing some flesh eaters. It’s about fucking time, I say.”

  Hole nodded. “Ya know, ever since I came out to my buddies, I feel like I have something to prove. The way they questioned my manhood just pissed me off. Well, look at this man now. I’m in the garmy!”

  Zoe rubbed his shoulders. “You just never know how some people are going to react, you know? And just because we’re in a fucking war doesn’t mean those people’s minds will open any sooner. You just have to let ’er roll right off you. You’re a stand up guy, Hole, and I trust you to have my back out here today and any day.”

  Hole blushed. “Thanks, Z.”

  The Beast rumbled along, bringing them closer to an enemy who didn’t know they were coming. The garmy became very quiet as they were jostled back and forth for nearly forty-five minutes.

  Dallas had been right about every moment closing the gap between survivors and the horde. By the time the CGIs arrived nearly two hundred yards ahead of the survivor group, Dallas could see the beginning of the horde not a mile down the road. The horde was easily catching up to them.

  Taking the road had been their first mistake. If the terrain was smooth and easily navigable like a road, there were few impediments to the zombies—and impediments were important when escaping them. If the horde remained that close, she would have to be careful to maintain enough distance.

  That realization gave Dallas an idea that was perhaps their best weapon, and once all of the CGIs were off the flatbed trailer, Dallas told Luke what they were to do with it after they dealt with the survivors.

  “You stay safe,” Otis said as he whipped the Beast around to go grab the first group of survivors from the back of the line. “We need you.”

  “You stay in the Beast, Otis. Open up for no one and nothing.”

  “Roger that, ma’am.”

  When the Beast took off, Dallas pulled her group together, keeping one eye to the left where the horde was, and one to the right where those on the Beast were trying to gather the weaker and slower. “Keep your distance. Stay fresh. And don’t forget––”

  “Help us!” a survivor cried out.

  “Thank God!”

  “They’re coming! Run!”

  The people turned back around and began to overwhelm them and climb onto the Fuchs and the flatbed.

  “Who’s in charge here?” Dallas yelled above the panicking crowd, but no one was listening. People began fighting and pulling each other off the trailer in an effort to get on. It was mayhem and wasted precious seconds they didn’t have to spare.

  Suddenly, Luke shot his sidearm into the air, and everyone stopped.

  “Everyone get the fuck off the trailer and off our vehicle. If you’re still on it in five seconds, you will be shot.” Turning to the group, he ordered, “Ready!”

  All thirty-three fighters raised their weapons at the now stunned survivors.

  “You now have three seconds to get down, or you won’t have to worry about the horde behind you. One…two—”

  By three, all were off.

  “My son—”

  Dallas raised her arms to silence the crowd. “Do you have someone in charge?”

  Everyone shook their heads. “We’re from all around the great state of Texas, ma’am. We—well, my family and me heard about a group of survivors living in Angola, so we headed east. My name is …well…now they call me Wild Bill.”

  “I’m Dallas, and we’re here to help you reach Angola, but first we will take your children, your elderly, and any wounded you may have…and that’s all.”

  The crowd started protesting, so Luke shot off another round. “Listen up, or we’ll just take our people back without you.”

  The survivors were quiet once more.

  “Children, the wounded, the elderly, and anyone else who will slow you down. I’m afraid you’re a good twenty miles away from our base, so you’re still going to have to go by foot the rest of the distance until we can bring the Fuchs back. This is not negotiable, people.”

  Wild Bill said, “Ma’am, we’ll never make it. We attracted this mob last night. I don’t think we can go another two miles, let alone another twenty-two.”

  She shook her head. “There’s no other option. We’re trying to give your people some breathing room, but you’ll still have to get them moving.” To Roper, she said, “Children, elderly, you know the drill.”

  It took less than five minutes to get twenty-one of the one hundred and nineteen people onto the flatbed. As they were being loaded on, Dallas explained her plan to rest of the group.

  “Wild Bill is in charge of the Texas group for the remainder of their travels. Wild Bill, you are to keep this group moving forward at all times. The only rest you get is by walking. No stopping. No pausing, and no resting. Your next rest will be your last. Other than that, you are to get your asses to Angola as quickly as possible. It shouldn’t take you any more than eight hours, hopefully less. As long as you people keep pressing forward, we can protect you, but you must help us keep enough distance between you and the horde so that we can maneuver.” She looked up at the horde, now less than a mile away. “Get going. We’re going to take out as many as we can.”

  A still hush came over the group. Finally, Wild Bill said, “Ma’am? Are you crazy? There are thousands of those things.”

  Dallas grinned. “Yes. There’s no time to explain it now, but in a nutshell, gays are immune to the virus, so we’ve outfitted a special army to deal with the zombies.”

  “That’s utter nonsense!” someone yelled.

  “Bullshit!”

  Suddenly, five twenty-something, drop dead gorgeous men stepped forward. “We’re all gay, Miss Dallas,” a handsome brunette man said. He had wavy brown hair and a flawless complexion with blue eyes that seemed to dance on his face. “We wondered why the zombies didn’t attack us until we got together with the group. Then those things started after us.”

  “Well, that would be why. Look, we don’t have time for any more explanations. Everything will be explained to you once you reach Angola. Now please, go. And hurry.”

  Wild Bill shook her hand. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Thank me when you reach Angola, Wild Bill.”

  The five men did not move. “Beggin’ your pardon, Miss Dallas, but we’d rather fight with you than go with the others. We’d done right well until we hooked up with them. It all makes perfect sense now.”

  Roper and Hunter handed them their sidearms and a box of ammo. Three others did the same, and suddenly, their unit had five more able-bodied shooters.

  Once the survivors took off behind the flatbed, Dallas had Luke roll out the wire for a hundred or so yards, using eyehole stakes every ten yards or so that came off the ground about six inches, suspending the
wire. By the time they finished, the horde was only a quarter of a mile away and walking straight for them and the wire.

  “Fall back!” Luke ordered. Zoe ran toward the mob, and everyone took off running in the opposite direction for the hundred-yard dash. “Spread out!” Dallas ordered. The CGIs spread themselves out for nearly a quarter of a mile just as Dallas and Luke had planned. Before taking his position in the middle, but behind the line, Luke said to Dallas, “The wire is a brilliant idea, Dallas. I salute you.”

  “Anything we can do to stop them, ya know?”

  With everyone in place, they waited.

  Her heart pounding against her chest, Dallas wiped her palms off before gripping her hunting rifle. She had that, an AK-47, two handguns, and her machete. Her boot-clipped Bowie knife Roper gave her when they first met never left her reach, but she doubted she’d be using that. No, today was a day for unerring shots and precise machete swings. Being trampled by the unthinking horde was not on her agenda.

  With both archers and shooters, Dallas felt they were ready. Zoe had a crossbow, a sniper rifle, and a bat. Once her bolts ran out, she would revert to her other weapons. She stood next to Jamie, who held some sort of Russian rifle, a shotgun, and a crowbar. Down the line, everyone held their weapons at the ready, waiting for the signal.

  Even though Dallas was immune, she was still nervous. Not really scared, but anxious. Five thousand of anything coming at you should make you nervous, but a mob of limping, moaning zombies was the worst.

  “Hold steady!” Luke yelled out. The order went down both sides of the line. “Remember your training!”

  The horde gimped and moaned practically in unison, and the sound was so loud it overpowered Luke’s next command, which no one but Dallas heard.

  Recognizing the danger, she stepped forward and raised her rifle to the ready, once more hoping the rest of the garmy saw her. Zoe joined her, her pink mohawk waving like a flag. Holding her hand up, she waited for Luke’s command.

  As the zombies neared the razor wire, the CGIs watched with still weapons as the first line of man eaters tripped over the wire, falling face first on the ground before them. The ghouls behind them walked all over them, most falling over as well, while those behind them stepped on skulls, ribcages and spines, breaking limbs and often crushing the heads of the undead. It looked like a rugby scrum as the zombies fell on top of each other over and over again until the pile of zombies was nearly three feet high.

  “Fire!” Luke called out.

  Zoe signaled.

  Dallas started shooting. The rest of the line followed suit and began firing at the zombies lying on the ground struggling to get back up. The undead fell at such a rapid pace, those lumbering behind kept falling across the dead and broken, unable to maintain their already precarious balance and making them easy pickings.

  Dallas killed ten with her first fifteen shots. They were not good stats for an army that hadn’t ammo to spare, so she switched weapons.

  The wire had been an amazing tactic, though, as it created a sort of undead speed bump that slowed the zombies down as they fell over each other. Those struggling to get up had their heads blasted to smithereens. Those behind quickly fell to bullet or bolt. The dead created a wall that slowed and sometimes stopped those behind them.

  When she’d killed her twentieth zombie, she heard Luke order to fall back, which she did, taking the rest of the garmy with her.

  Over and over, the zombies went down, and the field of dead grew and grew. It was evident by how quickly they were killed that Luke had done an exceptional job training the CGIs, and Dallas admired the swiftness with which those on either side of her cut their targets down.

  But still, the horde pressed on.

  “Fall back!” Luke yelled again, running back.

  The others fell back along with Luke, then turned and continued firing. The dead bodies in the front made it nearly impossible for the zombies to maintain their balance as they were also pushed by the mob behind them. Those in the back didn’t care one way or the other about their dead compatriots. All they wanted was the tender flesh of those behind the CGIs they had been trailing for hours.

  Looking at her watch, Dallas realized they would run out of ammo long before Otis could get back, so she ceased her own fire and motioned for Luke to join her.

  “We’ll have blown through our ammo in less than thirty minutes. Suggestions?”

  He nodded. “Finish shooting, then take out as many as we can with the machetes and bats.”

  Dallas nodded. “I like that.”

  “I’ll relay the message. You move to the left and attack from that angle. That will keep you from being trampled.”

  Being trampled was certainly a danger, so beheading them from the side or from behind, while exhausting, would prevent such a disaster.

  When Dallas was finally out of ammunition, she studied her line of shooters. More than half were empty and awaiting orders. Dallas yelled to Roper to flank left. Roper did the same, and soon enough, the whole line moved to the left side of the Horde.

  Luke looked at Dallas, and she signaled for him to join the line. He studied the approaching zombies for a moment before shaking his head, pointing to the tree line, and taking off toward the line of woods several hundred yards away. He paused, yelled to the survivors, and beckoned them to come to him.

  Dallas knew why he had bolted.

  He had seen the same thing she had. There were far more than her original estimate. The horde might turn with him, a ZB, and enter the woods after him, making it slower going for their lumbering legs. Then he would continue toward Angola to lead the survivors home. She’d been right following Einstein’s advice and Butcher’s request. Luke was definitely cut out for leading an army and was doing everything he could to move the horde away from the slowing survivors.

  And they were really slowing down, but could Luke outrun them?

  “Goddess go with you,” Dallas said softly as he disappeared through the woods.

  Moving with the line, she pulled her machete from the sheath and started taking off heads along the way. It never ceased to amaze her how they never retaliated, never fought back, never showed a single emotion. Fighting wasn’t in their skill set. They were programmed simply to eat. They had no emotions, no vengeance, nothing but an insatiable thirst for human flesh.

  As headless undead collapsed around her, she stepped up, gripped the machete handle, and swung it like a baseball bat over and over again, often stepping on a fallen body as she pursued another victim.

  And there were many victims falling beneath her blade.

  As her arms started feeling like dead weights, she gazed down at the gauze and knew she’d busted open her stitches. Blood seeped from her wound and onto the gauze.

  It didn’t matter. She could not stop fighting, could not stop leading the group.

  That was when she heard the horn and the machine gun of the Fuchs.

  “Fall back!” she ordered, stepping away and running to the middle of the road, waving her arms. When Otis saw her, he drove around a couple of stragglers while Churchill used a single shot Colt to take out as many zombies as he could.

  “How’d it go?” Dallas asked, panting.

  Otis stared at her arm. “You’re bleeding.”

  “I’ll live. How was it?”

  “The kids were great. Meg had food ready to go for them, and they were so hungry and so tired, they ate and immediately fell asleep in their cells. We had to wrestle with some of the wounded who refused to go into quarantine. Once we got them all unloaded, I came back after you.” He shook his head. “Do you have any idea how many zombie corpses are in the fields and roadway?”

  Dallas shrugged. “There were too many to count.”

  “Well, from what I could tell, ya’ll cut their numbers in half.”

  Dallas did a quick calculation. By her count, she’d killed close to two hundred herself, maybe more. That meant natural shooters like Butcher and Roper had killed probabl
y much more, maybe double that. That could only mean…her original estimation had been far too low.

  They had collected far more along the way than Dallas calculated.

  “Oh shit.”

  “What?”

  “Get our people back on the flatbed. We’re getting out of here.”

  “We’re leaving the survivors?”

  Dallas nodded. “For now we need to drop back and punt.”

  Dallas was out of the Fuchs before it completely stopped. “Meeting room. Fifteen minutes,” she barked at Colby. “Where’s Wendell?”

  Wendell came running out of the camp. “Welcome ba––” He stopped. “What’s up?”

  “I miscalculated the number. I was hoping we’d cut the number in half, but—”

  “You want to know if the fences will hold. We’ve given it the supreme once over, reinforcing it as much as we can, but we’re out of supplies for now.” He pointed to the more vulnerable area near the road. Somehow, he had managed to move dozens of vehicles inside the facility and line them up like rows of dominoes against the fence. If the zombies pushed against the fence, it would hit the cars, but not collapse inward.

  “Your zombies won’t be getting in here.”

  Dallas felt a small weight lift from her shoulders. “Brilliant. Thank you, Wendell. I was hoping to stop the onslaught, but there are so many of them.”

  “Go do what you do best, Dallas, and leave the fortification to us. We’ll go back over it again.”

  “I won’t ask how you moved those cars.”

  Wendell chuckled. “Then we won’t tell.”

  She ran back to the base, barking orders along the way and grabbing as many shooters as she could find. When she came to the crow’s nest, she let the guard know he needed to fly the defense flag. In lieu of an auditory signal, Luke had gone with a visual one she could only hope worked.

  At the meeting center, everyone she needed to be there was there, including Einstein.

  “Okay everyone, settle down. We don’t have much time. Luke is out there leading the pack of survivors back here. We cannot wait for them to reach us, which is in approximately five hours, maybe less now that Luke is with them.”