“Yeah, just not that episode,” Mike said, crestfallen.
“Let’s head over there and see if we can’t think of something,” James said. “I have a few ideas. It’s just that they’re all dangerous.”
“So, the best kind of ideas,” Tank said.
James led the way, with Connor bringing up the rear. Connor had never blown up a gas station before, but it was on his bucket list. He wondered if normal people had blowing stuff up on their bucket lists. Most people probably didn’t, but all the cool ones did, and he knew for a fact that a lot of his Marine buddies wanted to. So maybe it was a military thing. Well, that and arsonists, but they took it a little too far.
Watching Mike in front of him, Connor found himself beginning to like the kid. While he was mouthy and kind of a dunce, he had a good heart. The realization made him angry. There wasn’t a place in this new world for attachments. He had his Wolf Pack with him, but other than those two, he didn’t need anyone. Everyone else would either let him down or die, just like the little dark-haired kid in the apartment. He felt a swelling of emotion but wrestled it back down. Those feelings could get him killed in a situation like this—they had no place here.
Following the back side of the department store, they went around it to the north. There weren’t any buildings on that side, just the interstate and therefore not as many zombies. The few they did encounter, James and Tank took care of with the tomahawks. Connor felt naked without his, but then he remembered he was holding a badass instrument of death.
Moving through the parking lot, they arrived at the main road going south into town. James ran across the road to the other side where a small white building sat on the edge of a large vacant lot. The rest of the group followed. Connor watched them all run across, covering them. When it was his turn, he followed. Crouching behind the white building, they all looked at the gas station.
“Looks like it’s our lucky day,” Tank said.
A few zombies were wandering around, but most of them were concentrated farther into town. Sitting next to one of the pumps was a semi-truck with a cylinder-shaped trailer.
“That’ll work,” Connor said, looking at the fuel truck.
“But how, exactly?” James asked.
“Crash a car into it?” Mike offered.
“Not a bad idea. Tank, you’re good at that,” James said.
“Really? There was a spike strip!” Tank said defensively.
“I’m talking about your Avalanche back there. What does that make? Three trucks you’ve wrecked?”
“Oh, you’re an ass!” Tank said. “You know I only wrecked one before. The other one the damn lady rear-ended me! Plus, that last one doesn’t count. The Ranger pulled in front of me.”
“Sure,” James said, smiling.
“James, I’m going to throttle you,” Tank said only half-joking.
Connor chuckled. “It’s still not a bad idea.”
“No, it’s not. It’s just highly dangerous trying to jump out of a moving vehicle and hoping it continues on with enough force to cause the trailer to explode,” James said.
“What about draining the gas from the trailer? It’s close enough to the pumps that if it goes up, the whole thing will,” Connor said.
“Molotov!” Mike said triumphantly.
James started to open his mouth but then looked at the gas station. “Kid, that’s a damn good idea.”
~~~
Connor burst through the doors of the gas station, AR sweeping left and right. Tank entered behind him, tomahawk at the ready. He was in a small entry room with a counter on his left, a room to the right that looked like it held showers, and the main room of the station in front. Cautiously moving further into the building, he entered the main room with its mostly raided shelves and wall coolers.
“Clear,” Connor said. “Where do they keep the booze?”
“What? Just because I’m a bartender means I know where every gas station across the United Sates keeps their liquor?” Tank asked.
Connor looked at him and shrugged.
“Damn, you got me.” Tank walked even further into the room and looked around. “Wyoming has liquor laws on wine and the hard stuff. A gas station like this won’t carry any.”
“Okay, let’s think about this. If you had to work in a gas station all day, would you just sit behind the counter, sober?”
“Hell no. That job would suck.”
“Let’s hope someone else shared your opinion.”
“You think someone has something stashed in here?”
“Maybe. Check behind the counter. I’ll get the back room,” Connor said, switching to his handgun.
He walked back to a small alcove with four doors, two to his left and two to his right. The first door on the right looked like a storage room with a couple of desks inside. Going in, he cleared the room, then walked over to the nicer of the two desks. Inside one of the drawers was not only a half-empty bottle of whiskey but a snub-nose Ruger .357 revolver in a shoulder holster. He swung the pack off his back and stuffed the revolver inside. Grabbing a rag from beside the desk, he left the storage room and turned back toward the main room.
A sound from behind made him turn. He noticed the door to the men’s restroom swing open and a zombie stumbled out. It looked at him and groaned, trying to take a step forward, but tripped over the pants pulled down around its ankles. Its face cracked against the floor and Connor had to chuckle as he stomped his boot down hard on its head. Its already weakened skull cracked under the force and caved in, blood and brains splattering the floor.
“Talk about dying with your pants down,” Tank said, walking over. “Nice curb stomp, by the way.”
“Thanks. Not the most dignified way to go, that’s for sure,” Connor said, leaving the alcove. “I got what we need, plus a new toy.”
“Sweet, then let’s . . .” Tank said, pausing for dramatic effect, “. . . blow this joint!”
“You’re terrible,” Connor said, smiling as they exited the gas station out the front. They moved to the fuel truck. A zombie came around the trailer and Tank took care of it with the tomahawk.
“I need to get me one of these,” Tank said, admiring the weapon.
“We’ve got a couple more back at the truck,” Connor said. “Plus we saved you a couple of good guns and even a tac vest and some NVGs.”
“Kick ass. You guys really are the best. It’ll be like Christmas in June!”
Connor laughed as he looked at the tanker trailer. There were a bunch of nozzles, valves and stuff on the side, but what did they do?
“Figure it out?” Tank asked over his shoulder as he watched for anything that might sneak up on them.
“Hell, I don’t know.”
“Open ‘em all up.”
“Good idea.”
Opening all the nozzles and turning all the valves, he finally got something to work as gas began to pour out onto the ground. He jumped back, splashing himself a little.
“Let’s get back,” Connor said, backing away. “How far can you throw?”
“Far enough.”
They stopped at fifty yards and watched as more of the clear liquid pooled on the ground. Another thirty seconds and they could smell it from where they were standing.
“Damn, that stinks,” Tank said.
“I think it’s time,” Connor said, handing Tank the bottle and rag.
“Let’s blow it.” Tank grabbed the bottle and poured some alcohol onto the cloth, then stuck it into the end of the open bottle. He looked around. “You don’t happen to have a lighter, do you?”
“I didn’t even think of that.”
“Oh, hey, turn around.” Tank unzipped his backpack on Connor’s back and pulled out a nice Zippo lighter. “I wasn’t going anywhere without this baby.”
Lighting the cloth, Tank handed Connor the tomahawk and chucked the bottle toward the fuel truck. As soon as it left his hand, they turned and ran. The bottle crashed against the trailer and fire roared to life, igniting the gas. Th
e whole trailer exploded and then the pumps burst into flames. It was everything Connor had ever imagined as he stood and watched the flames continue to grow, reaching into the darkening sky. The wind whipped the flames and pushed the billowing smoke to the east.
“That’s awesome!” Connor said. “We need to do this again.”
“Oh, hell yeah!”
Connor handed the tomahawk back to Tank and they returned to the group, still crouched behind the white building.
“I think that’ll work,” James said, smiling.
“Wow,” Chloe said, “that was actually pretty cool.”
“Never seen that before,” Selena said.
“Let’s go back the way we came, then get to that dealership,” James said.
“‘Some shine like galaxies, and some . . . some burn like a moth at the flame!’” Connor quoted with a smile.
“Nice,” Tank said, nodding.
“Bioshock? Really?” Mike asked. “You guys really are nerds.”
“Of course,” Tank said. “What would you do stuck in a half-horse town in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do?”
“Play video games,” Mike said, shrugging.
“Precisely,” Tank said.
Connor followed as his brother led the group to the back side of the department store. He smiled at Tank and Mike, who bantered back and forth as they walked. Tank had a way of making light of serious situations and turning boring times interesting. With him around, sometimes it was easy to forget that this was the end of the world. Besides, why would Connor want to think about the end of the world—all the death he’d seen and brought to others, their parents gone, the hope of a new life somewhere far off in the distance, and the distinct possibility of a bloody end for all of them right around the corner. Who would want to live if that’s all there was to look forward to? So Connor chose to ignore the very real fear inside and focus instead on the here and now. They were alive and they were together—the last vestiges of his friends and family from another life.
13
A Perfect Storm
James looked across the street at the used car dealership and was relieved to see that most of the zombies had moved north. They’d only have to take care of a handful moving from the south toward the flaming gas station. The wind had increased over the last half hour and was now blowing strongly, dark clouds rolling in over the mountains to the west. A storm was brewing. The light was fading. They were running out of time.
“We need to be quick. Take those zombies out and move to the building, then find the keys, get a truck, and get out of this place,” James said. “That storm looks like it is gonna hit soon, and it’s gonna hit hard.”
“Yeah, and that fire’s gonna draw zombies from all over,” Connor said.
“We need to be long gone before either happens,” Tank said.
James led the way across the street. A zombie turned toward him and took two steps before it fell to the ground, a spike driven into its head. Tank took one down to their left while Connor took one down to their right with his knife. With the Wolf Pack leading, they moved across the street, taking down the dozen zombies in their way.
“Let’s find a couple rides,” James said as they arrived at the dealership.
“Huge sale! Today only! Everything free!” Mike said.
A dark gray truck sitting by the road caught James’s attention. He walked over and looked at the Dodge RAM 2500 with a brush guard on the front. It was a crew cab and a little older than his truck, but it would work perfectly.
“Found mine,” James said.
“Really?” Connor asked, walking up. “Another Dodge?”
“Of course. It’s the end of the world. Nothing else will hold up.”
“You keep telling yourself that.”
“Oh, hell yeah!” Tank yelled from behind the dealership building.
James ran over and found Tank standing next to a black Hummer.
“I wouldn’t expect you to choose anything less,” James said. “Let’s go find the keys.”
Moving to the front of the building, James tried the door, but it was locked.
“I got this,” Tank said, picking up a cinder block from next to the building and raising it over his head.
“Hey, good find!” Mike said, bending down and picking up a key that was hidden underneath.
“Oh, yeah,” Tank said, setting the cinder block down.
“You had no idea that was there, did you?” James asked.
“Nope,” Tank said, smiling. “I was just gonna break the front window.”
James chuckled, taking the key from Mike and unlocking the door. He opened it and Tank went into the room, tomahawk at the ready.
“It’s good,” he said from inside. James walked through the door. “Wait! No it’s not!”
A zombie crawled out from behind the counter. Tank pounced on it with the tomahawk.
“Now, it’s clear,” Tank said, wiping the blood from the blade.
James moved to the wall behind the counter where a bunch of keys with labels hung from hooks. Finding the two sets they needed, he tossed the keys for the Hummer to Tank and they walked outside.
“Make sure it starts and has gas,” James said. “We need to split up. Who’s going with who?”
“I got Tank,” Connor said. “Shotgun.”
“Shotgun!” Mike said.
“Then you’re with me, Mike,” James said. “Ladies?”
“I’ll go with you,” Selena said.
“Oh, I’m definitely not going with him,” Chloe said, pointing at Tank.
“But baby, I thought we had somethin’ special,” Tank said, looking hurt.
“Screw off,” Chloe said, walking over to the gray Dodge.
“Okay, let’s go,” James said, unlocking the truck and climbing in.
The truck roared to life, the gas gauge indicating it was full. Mike climbed into the passenger seat, wincing as he sat down. Chloe got into the seat behind Mike, and Selena climbed in behind James. He backed out and pulled over to the exit. Soon, Tank joined him in the black lifted Hummer that also had a brush guard.
“Oh, yeah,” Tank said, rolling his window down.
“Gas?” James asked.
“Good,” Connor said. “Rollin’ out.”
James pulled out first and Tank followed. They drove past the burning gas station and noticed the zombies walking right into the flames. Some caught sight of them and stumbled towards them like living torches. Pulling back onto the interstate, they continued north, headlights illuminating the road ahead in the growing darkness. He kept a sharp eye out for any more spike strips. The last of the light faded as raindrops began to fall, splattering on the windshield.
“This doesn’t look good,” Mike said.
“No, it’ll be a big storm,” James said.
He pulled the radio out of his vest. “Emmett, you there?”
Static. He tried again. Still nothing. James cursed, putting the radio back into a pocket on his vest.
I don’t think he would’ve left us, would he?
The conversation they’d had earlier that morning made James unsure. Emmett had Alexis and Ana to take care of, and he’d put them before Connor and James. He couldn’t blame him for that. James would do the same thing if it were his family. He thought about Olive and hoped she was unharmed. The safest place for her right now was with Emmett, but if something had happened to her . . .
“You met Tank in school, right?” Chloe asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“Yeah, in middle school.”
“Where at?”
“A small town in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado.”
“Has he always been . . . like that?”
“He’s honestly a great guy. Yeah, he jokes around and acts like he hates people, but usually the meaner he is to you the more he likes you. The thing is, no matter what, he’s there for his family. He has their backs and is a true friend, however unpleasant he can be at times. And true friends are hard t
o come by, especially these days.”
“Huh, I figured he was just an ass.”
“Oh no, there’s a lot more to him than you realize. So how’d it go down during the ambush?” James asked, wanting to piece together what had taken place.
“All I know is one second we were getting shot at and then we crashed into that truck. I was dazed. Tank got me out and we ran. Selena was in the other truck and she ran with us. Do you know what happened to everyone else?”
“I don’t, but from the looks of things I’d say they didn’t make it.”
Chloe looked like she was about to cry as she gazed out the window. The rain was coming down even harder now. It was becoming difficult for James to see the road and obstacles ahead. He slowed down and saw Tank do the same behind him. How far north should they go? When would they know if Emmett made it out or not? Should they turn around and go back and check to make sure they weren’t in trouble? Or should they forget about the others and continue to Alaska?
“What’s your story, Mike?” James asked.
“Me? I grew up in Rock Springs, Wyoming,” Mike answered.
“You lose your family?”
“Yeah, something like that. Look, I don’t wanna be rude. You guys did me a solid, but I don’t want to talk about my past, okay?”
“That works.”
“Thanks.”
Lightning flashed in the dark sky ahead. James slammed on the brakes. The truck slid forward on the wet pavement. He cursed, looking back and throwing the truck into reverse.
Tank had either seen the taillights or the barricade ahead because he was backing up too. The first bullet hit the truck, shattering the passenger window and slamming into Mike’s neck. Blood sprayed onto the front dash as he grasped at his neck, trying to breathe. The girls screamed. Behind, Tank swung his Hummer around and gunned it. Bullets continued to hit the truck, shattering glass and tearing through metal. James drove into a clear area and whipped the truck around, throwing it into drive and speeding off to the south. Bullets continued to fly at them from behind. The back window shattered and something thumped against his seat.
James didn’t look back and he didn’t slow down. He followed the taillights in front of him and prayed they wouldn’t hit another spike strip on the road somewhere. His side hurt, feeling warm and wet, but he didn’t take his hands off the wheel to check it. Rain flew through the shattered windshield and in the side windows, pelting his face. He could feel at least a dozen small cuts, and blood trickled down into his mouth. Next to him, Mike was still alive but was having a hard time stemming the flow of blood.
The Brother's Creed (Book 2): Battleborn Page 15
