ROAD TRIP THROUGH THE APOCALYPSE

by Vincent Fields

  Damn, Tak thought. These guys were well trained and likely prior military. He couldn’t risk taking action against them right now… not when the cost of it being the wrong choice was his friend’s lives. He was breaking a rule he’d so often taught others never to break; never willingly go to a secondary crime scene. When the bikers got him to the van they zip tied his hands behind his back, threw a thick black bag over his head and zip tied his feet together. It went against everything inside of Tak to let them do it… but he kept coming back to the thought of his friends. He’d have to bide his time and wait for the right time to save them… if it ever came. He realized now that his chances of survival were diminishing by the second and he might not even be able to save himself.

  CHAPTER 20: I’m not crazy, am i?

  S arah Vade had followed Tak’s RV ever since she’d seen him seemingly disappear in a blur when he’d killed the bikers at the gas station near Nashville. She couldn’t lose track of this man. She went over and over what she’d seen in her mind. She murmured to herself and bit her fingernails. “I know what I saw… I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy, am I? I know what I saw… it was impossible but I saw it. Damnit I know I saw it!” She’d carefully followed him, never following too close behind and keeping three or four vehicles between them at all times. It wasn’t the first time she’d tailed someone. While following him down the highway she’d considered her options. She could try and pull him over and just ask him about what she’d seen. Nah, bad idea. He could just deny it and then he’d be on to her. She could follow him and stop wherever they stopped to get gas and make her introduction. Maybe she could win him over with her charm. Maybe she’d play a damsel in distress… that had worked for her several times in the past. Maybe she could find out what gave this man his supernatural ability and take it from him. “Supernatural ability?!” she muttered. She could barely believe what she was saying and she repeated her words again, “I know what I saw… I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy!”

  Now that she’d seen him get taken her chances to get whatever power he had seemed reduced. She considered abandoning this whole stupid quest she found herself on. What was going to happen… could she somehow convince him to just give her whatever it was he had? Could she force him to give it to her? She reminded herself that she wasn’t one to give up on what she wanted, the end of the world had come and she had nothing better to do anyway. She could play a long con if she had to. So she had just followed and waited. She’d seen Tak walk into the flea market with his friends. She’d been just another face in the crowd, never getting too close. She’d watched him split up from his friends and approach the booth of bikers selling guns. She thought this might be her chance to talk to him… to try and con him perhaps. She’d figured to approach him as soon as he was done with his business at the gun tent, since she’d have a better chance of utilizing her feminine charms if his friends weren’t around. Then he walked off with that giant of a man back to the parking lot. She’d followed from never closer than 50 feet in the crowd and witnessed what appeared to be an abduction that he went along with after speaking to someone on the radio. What the hell was going on? She saw that his friends and their RV were gone and he was put in the back of the big rusty van. She followed it a good 15 minute drive to a farmhouse in the country. As the van turned down a long gravel driveway towards a large pole barn set a good hundred yards behind the home she drove on past a quarter mile down the country road. She pulled over to the side and watched from a distance as while contemplating her next move.

  CHAPTER 21: the cell

  D oug drove the van to their clubhouse; the large pole barn about 15 minutes outside of Lake City in the county. It was a 100 foot by 200 foot pole barn that had been used to store farming equipment by its previous owners, but it had gone through an extensive renovation to suit the North Florida Death Keeper’s Motorcycle Club. Parked next to the gravel road that surrounded it on the barn’s right side were at least 20 motorcycles, a dozen cars and trucks, and a semi-truck with a gasoline tanker attached to it. Doug had radioed back to “base” every five minutes exactly when his watch alarm timer had gone off. Each time he’d used different military abbreviated code words that sounded legit to Tak. Finally they stopped and Tak was roughly taken out of the van and carried in, since his hands and feet were zip tied together. He was led through the building, which served as the Death Keeper’s clubhouse. He couldn’t see anything through the thick hood and was now at the mercy of his captors. As he entered the clubhouse he heard dozens of voices, pool balls being hit by pool cue’s, and rock music playing; it sounded like they were partying in a bar. Cigarette and pot smoke mixed with the smell of beer and the nearby corn fields, filling the air. A long bar was up against the back wall of the large main room and several tables with comfortable chairs, couches and a couple pool tables were set all about the room. A small 20 by 20 foot boxing ring was set up in the front left corner that provided entertainment and a way to settle beef between the members. Several women were partying with the bikers. Some were their “old ladies” while others were just hang arounds who clung to whatever strong force they could for protection, and were willing to serve in any way to remain safe. Tak was carried down a hallway off to the right rear of the room that led to several back rooms. The six men carrying and escorting him came to a doorway at the end of the hall. It opened up to a short six-foot long hallway that led to a large metal cell door. In the center of the door was a lockable six inch tall by two foot wide food slot. Doug unlocked both doors and held the inner door open as the other bikers carried Tak in. This room had been constructed to hold prisoners, as the club had to do with enemies on occasion. It was a rebar and cinderblock 20 by 20 foot room with a steel toilet and sink combo. A bright LED bulb was in an enclosed plastic fixture in the center of the ceiling with the switch outside in the hallway. Other than that the room was completely bare.

  The men tossed Tak down roughly and Doug walked up to him and removed his hood. Tak looked around and took in the room… his cell. He could act on them now, but nothing had changed concerning his friend’s safety. He looked at the men neutrally, knowing that he didn’t have many options available and to show fear or anger would do him no good. The bikers all walked out of the room to the outer hallway while Doug shut and locked the door and then unlocked the food slot to the inner door. “Turn around and stick your hands through here.” Tak did so and Doug cut the zip tie off of his hands. Tak brought his hands around in front of him and rubbed his wrists. “Where are my friends?” “Buck will come see you soon to explain everything. Your friends are fine… for now.” With that Buck flipped the light switch down, leaving Tak to sit on the cold concrete floor and wait in darkness with only a sliver of light coming from under the door. He immediately moved to the center of the room, sat cross-legged and began meditating.

  CHAPTER 22: Rampage

  A s they left Southern Illinois Tadashi rode silently in the back right side of the roomy Gurkha with a large, square white and bloody bandage taped onto his head and upper jaw over the place where his right ear had been. Shinji was currently driving as they followed the directions the GPS gave them to go to St Petersburg, which was straight down highway 24 East to highway 75 South. Nobu sat in the passenger seat, monitoring the electronic tracking device. The two servants had agreed to switch drivers every few hours. Shinji glanced back at Tadashi through the rear view window. Most of the time he just looked out of the rear passenger side window, seemingly in angry contemplation. His henchmen had long ago learned not to speak to him unless he spoke to them first unless it was very important, so they usually all rode quietly or the two servants in the front would quietly talk to each other. Abandoned vehicles littered the highways and in many spots there was barely enough room to drive through those that had been pushed to the side of the road. Vehicles that still had gas and were running were becoming fewer and farther between. Plenty of people were walking the highways, often in small groups for safety.

  Sev
eral hours into the drive they neared the crowded and burning city of Nashville Tennessee. Suddenly the vehicle slowed to a stop. Tadashi leaned to his left to look out the front window, “Why are you stopping?” However he saw the answer as soon as he asked. A group of at least 20 people had come out from behind some abandoned cars in the road up ahead, pulled a spike strip out to stop them from driving straight down the road and were quickly walking directly towards them down. Several were visibly armed with firearms, bats, knives and other weapons. Shinji stated the obvious, “There’s a mob in the way boss.” Tadashi replied with a bit of excitement, “Put it in park and climb back here; I’ll drive.” Shinji knew never to hesitate when given an order from his short-tempered master. He put the Gurkha in park, unbuckled his seat belt and began climbing over the center console into the back seat. The crowd quickly advanced on the SUV, trying to open the locked doors and pointing rifles and pistols at the windows as one of them shouted, “Open your doors!” Another man yelled, “You move this thing and you’re fucking dead!” They quickly surrounded the big vehicle. Several started banging it with open hands and weapons. A man climbed up on the driver’s side step and peered in through the bars outside of the tinted glass. Just as he began to make out the form of the driver, Tadashi shifted into drive and floored it, calling upon the Gurkha’s massive 800 horsepower engine to launch it forward. Several who were standing in front of the heavily reinforced steel bumper and grill were quickly crushed under the tank-like SUV. Tadashi didn’t drive it 20 feet before he slammed on the brakes just in front of the spike strip and threw it into reverse, which threw an image from their rear camera up on the smart glass front window. He cut the wheel left and floored it again while a few in the mob opened fire. Rounds harmlessly bounced off the thick armor as he sped backwards over more of the crowd. Several screamed or yelled in pain from their broken and crushed limbs, and Tadashi burst out in a maniacal laugh upon hearing them. Bodies bounced off and under the SUV as it effortlessly mowed them down. Several from the mob then ran off to the right and left sides of the highway to escape. Tadashi threw it into drive again and this time chased them off road to the right, going around the spike strip and easily catching one, then another, and then another as he ran them down. Each made a dull thud on the front bumper and gave a little bump under the massive tires. He continued to laugh loudly and began to add in hooting and hollering sounds as he chased them down; the pain from the wound where his right ear had been now completely forgotten. Many from of the crowd were now dead, but a few lay twisted in agony and a lucky few had escaped the rampage and ran away down the sides of the highway for their lives. Tadashi was overcome with a fit of laughter and he had to shift into park to let it all out. Nobu and Shinji looked at each other with expressions of concern. They were merciless killers just like Tadashi, but they did so out of a sense of service and honor to something they believed in. There was something twisted about their master’s enjoyment of the slaughter, but they dared not utter a word of it. Tadashi wiped a tear from his eye as he finally regained control of his laughing fit, and still wore a big smile. He servants had rarely seen him so happy. He gave an absent-minded order to his men, still thinking about the fun he’d just had. “You two get out and remove any big chunks of round eye meat that might be caught under the suspension. Hurry, some are getting away!” His men bowed their heads reverently and obeyed.

  CHAPTER 23: the clubhouse

  B uck is the President of the Death Keepers Motorcycle Club. He’s a muscular mid-30’s man with a smoothly shaved head his name patched onto the left side of his vest. The same Airborne tab that Doug wears also adorns Buck’s vest; they had served in the same unit with a handful of others in his platoon who would later go on to form the Death Keepers MC. They’d developed a bond of brotherhood together over in the sandbox; forged in battle and sealed with the blood of their fellow soldiers and enemies. Buck had been their platoon sergeant and was a saltier combat veteran than any others in the Keepers. Once they had returned home Buck couldn’t conquer his demons and he just wasn’t able to adjust to a non-violent, civilized society. He’s lived in the chaos for too long, and it had become part of him. Some of his men followed his lead and their club had been born.

  He wore a huge, dull black Smith and Wesson 500 revolver with a nine inch barrel in a leather chest rig over his brown military t-shirt and under his black leather vest. The 50 caliber pistol was the most powerful production pistol in the world; capable of dropping a full grown charging bear with one shot if fired accurately. Five big brass rounds adorned the outside of his holster, reminding anyone who glanced at him of the firepower he carried… both in the pistol and in his command over the club.

  Sitting at the clubhouse bar, Buck wrote a text on his smart phone:

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  Hey Charro, this is Buck, President of the Death Keepers down here in Florida. An old buddy from your MC forwarded me a text you sent. I’ve got good news for you. I’ve got the cop you’re looking for. I’ve even got his RV, his friends and his dog. So you’ve got 100K for me? Calls have stopped going through, if texts go down you can find us at our Lake City Clubhouse. Better hurry- I’ll keep em for a few days and wait to hear from you.

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  Buck hit send on his phone and looked over to Doug; the club’s Road Captain. “We’ll see how bad Charro wants this group.” Doug nodded and he raised his beer up in a toasting motion.

  Outside on the road Sarah had thought about her options and decided it was time to take action. She started up the sedan, turned it around and drove up the long gravel road towards the rear of the large pole barn. The Death Keepers had lights set up back there that ran off of a generator next to their large gas tanker truck. As she came into sight several armed Keepers aimed flashlights and guns at her car. She turned off her headlights, turned on the interior lights and approached slowly with her window down. She tugged on the bottom of her shirt to ensure a bit of cleavage was showing. Three armed bikers who were led by one who looked like a leather clad mountain man approached her car. He had a thick brown beard and the name “GRIFFIN” over his left chest. His body odor hit her before he reached her window. He lowered his pistol as soon as he got a good look at her. She fought hard not to show disdain in her face as she flashed a beautiful smile. “Well well well… what are you doing out here little lady?” She gave a coy look and spoke quietly, forcing the man to get closer to hear her. He peered in her window at her long tan legs showing under her Daisy Duke shorts. “Well hon, I saw ya’lls lights from the road and thought I’d see if ya had any gas and maybe a bite to eat I could barter for.” Griffin grinned at her, showing a few missing teeth. “You come on in and we’ll do some wheelin' and dealing baby.” He stuck a dirty fingerless-glove clad hand out to her, which she took to shake. “I’m Griffin, honey.” After he spoke he held on, pulled her hand up to his mouth and kissed it, which she allowed with her continued smile. “You park right over there and I’ll give you the tour. Were the Death Keepers Motorcycle Club and this is our clubhouse.” An impressed expression came over her face, “Wow, I love motorcycles! Thank you so much Griffin, you’re a big sweetie!” Griffin grinned behind his thick dirty beard and he finally released her hand. He walked next to her car to where he had her park and began shoeing away other bikers who started to come over to get a better look at her. As she parked he opened the door for her. She grabbed her guitar and took his arm as she batted her eyes. “Why thank you, kind sir”. “No problem little lady.” He was surprised to have such a fine looking woman suddenly on his arm; something he wasn’t accustomed to. He strutted like a peacock as he walked her in the clubhouse.

  Three hours later she was seated off to the side at a section of couches and chairs with a crowd of over 20 around her. She strummed her guitar and wooed them with her angelic voice. After each tune they would clap, whistle and cheer; she was a hit. She’d taken requests and played several songs of her own writing, working the crowd masterfully as she did so
. At one point during a slow sad song more onlookers than not had wet eyes, which was quite the accomplishment for this tough crowd of outlaw bikers. During breaks she’d been given all the food and drink she wanted, but she’d stuck with only water to drink. She wanted a clear head as she feigned soulful and sweet expressions, all the while gathering information. Where was the man she’d followed in here? She gathered that Buck was the leader of this group, both from Griffin’s loose lips and from the way all the bikers gave him respect. She noticed a few of the bikers and their women went down a hallway off of the right side of the room. Griffin had stayed as close to her as possible; already whipped like a puppy. She’d encouraged him to drink as the night went on and rewarded it with flirtation, which had led to him becoming quite tipsy. Women as good looking as her just didn’t pay much attention to the likes of Griffin without being paid for it, and he was loving every second of it. During her current break she sat and talked with him as they ate sandwiches. He asked, “So uhh... where will you be staying tonight baby?” “Oh in the backseat of my car I suppose.” She kept her eyes down on her sandwich after she spoke, looking a bit sad. Griffin couldn’t resist taking the bait. He cleared his throat, “Well uh… you are welcome to stay here with us. I have a room in the back.” He had always been socially awkward and the opposite of a ladies’ man, so the words came hard for him. She looked up and beamed, “Oh Griff, that would be lovely, thank you! It will be nice not to sleep in that cramped car for a night!” Griff open-mouthed smiled like he’d won the lotto. “Great! We have a working hot shower and everything that you can use!” Sarah leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. “No way! Oh my gosh… so I won’t have to take a cold bath from a water bottle tonight?! I’m ready, lead the way!” She stood up and grabbed her guitar. Griffin’s cheeks turned red as he took her free hand and bolted towards the rear hallway, ignoring congratulatory whistles and cat calls from his fellow bikers along the way.