The Apocalypse Fugitives

by Peter Meredith

  Grey ignored the lip and said, "Good." He slid his M4 out of sight beneath the overly large "monster" shirt he wore, tapped his chest where his Kevlar vest was, and then clapped once. "All right! Let's get our shit together. Anyone got to take a leak, now's the time."

  No one stirred. They just stood shifting from foot-to-foot, sweating, less from the heat which wasn't bad, and more from their growing fear.

  "Ok," Grey said, nodding wisely and looking them over; Jillybean tried to stand to her full four-foot, two-inch height in order to be noticed. The soldier's eyes swept right past her as he went on speaking, "You look good. You look like soldiers who are ready to kick some ass! Keep in mind they will be on the defense now. They will be the ones cowering from you! If you're afraid, that's fine. Just remember they are going to be trapped like animals and their fear will be ten times worse than yours."

  "We can do this," Michael added. "For Amy."

  The others said, "For Amy," in unison.

  "Good," Grey said. He went to each and clapped them on the shoulder, roughly. Jillybean only got a pat on the head. "I'm on point. Michael take up the rear. If we come across any stiffs, we do not engage them! Our ammo sitch is too low to waste on the walking dead." He paused and finally looked at Jillybean who perked up, hoping for new orders. "No radio checks. In twenty minutes I'll hit the send button twice. You reply in kind."

  "I don't have a watch." She showed her wrists as proof. "Maybe if I was closer to you guys…"

  "There's a clock on the dash," he said. "And don't mess with the keys. The battery is suspect enough without you turning the engine off."

  "But…"

  "What did I say about buts?" When she dropped her chin he lifted it back up, gently. "Mister Neil will be very mad if I let anything happen to you. Now, buck up. We'll be back soon." He tipped her a wink—the greatest display of affection he could muster it seemed.

  "Let's move out," he said to the others. Grey led the way through the forest, his eyes quick and sharp, his body sleek and fluid, but also ready to explode in violence at a moment's notice.

  The second that the group was swallowed up by the forest, Ipes blew out a big breath. That was close! You almost made us go with them.

  "Oh hush," she said, stomping off to the truck and checking the blue LED light—6:48. In a quarter second she calculated when to expect her walkie talkie to beep twice.

  She sat in the driver's seat and at first those twenty minutes dragged. She played with the steering wheel and pretended to drive. She sat Ipes on the dash and then when he was bad she put his nose against the tire. He wasn't there long because she quickly became lonely.

  "Which is the gas?" she asked him, pointing at the two pedals. They were crouched down, exploring the moving parts of the truck.

  Try one.

  With her hand, she pushed the one on the left and nothing happened. She tried the one on the right with a little more force and the truck's engine roared. It was so loud that she jumped, smacking her head on the bottom of the steering wheel.

  Ipes snorted with laughter.

  "Stupid zebra," she grouched. She sat back in the driver's seat and glanced at the clock. "Seven minutes! That's all it's been?" She humphed once and then looked down at the pedals; the bottom of her sneakers dangled a foot above them. "I wish I could drive."

  You mean you wish you could crash?

  "I drove before. Amember, Daddy used to let me steer while I sat on his lap? I didn't crash then."

  Well I for one am glad that your legs are too short. You'd probably kill us all.

  She looked around. "How? It's an empty road. Here, I'll show you." Forgetting the walkie talkie and the imminent battle, Jillybean went about trying to find the right set of sticks that would allow her to drive. They had to be sturdy and they had to have an off shoot about a foot from the end, and the off shoot had to be as the right angle. There were plenty for her to choose from. When she had found the right ones she dug through her pack until she found string; then it was simply a matter of tying the sticks to her lower legs, and wrapping it upward to hold them stiff.

  With her odd semi-stilts tied in place and her backpack under her skinny bottom so that she could look over the steering wheel she asked Ipes, "Are you ready?"

  Don't do it, Jillybean! Ipes hissed. This is our only truck and besides, what about the radio check?

  "I forgot," she said, glancing at the clock—6:10! Had she missed it? She leaned over awkwardly and fetched the walkie talkie and before she could even straighten it clicked twice in her hand. She pressed the send button twice in response and then sat listening for anything else to come from the radio.

  You see? Ipes demanded. You aren't supposed to be playing around. You have to watch the road. She slumped and sulked as any second grader would when they were being left out. Don't be like that. Your job is important.

  "Sure it is. It's so important to sit…"

  The walkie talkie suddenly crackled: "West in position. I can see the whole front and there's no one in sight."

  A minute later Cody checked in: "North is ready," he said in a tremor. This was followed by John in the south who tried to sound more manly, but barely succeeded.

  Finally Captain Grey said: "I'm going in."

  Jillybean held her breath, listening. There came a thin crackling, not from the radio but from far away over the tips of the forest. She could tell Captain Grey's gun from the rest; it seemed alone.

  "Mike! Get in here," Grey ordered over the radio. "They have me pinned down!"

  The firing increased in tempo. Jillybean found herself leaning forward waiting on the next message. She figured it would be Captain Grey telling them everything would be ok, but it was Michael who spoke next. "There's too many! Boys get away from the building."

  "Damn it, no!" Grey raged. His voice was almost drowned out by the gunshots going off near him. "William, I need you to lay down some fire in the front. I don't care what you shoot at, just distract them."

  Next there came much louder gunshots. They were slow and steady.

  "It's not working!" Michael cried.

  "They're in trouble," Jillybean said, looking at the steering wheel and then down at the knob for the gear shifter. "R for reverse. D for go," she said and pulled the handle down to the D.

  What are you doing? Ipes practically screamed as the truck lurched forward.

  "I'm staying with the truck like I was ordered and I'm gonna help, too. They need me just like I thought they would."

  But you can't drive.

  She proved him wrong. She could drive, just not well. Steering wasn't an issue because her speed was a grindingly slow three miles an hour. She had one stick on each of the pedals and was deathly afraid to take her foot off the brake. To go faster she pushed harder on the gas. The truck groaned and shook as it fought itself to gain speed.

  Jillybean sat rigidly on her backpack, her eyes locked open, her little hands sweating and white knuckled on the steering wheel. She aimed the truck straight down the highway and everything was going fine until the left stick slipped off the brake.

  Suddenly, the truck leapt forward. Ipes screamed and fell off the dash board. Jillybean started poking blindly about with her left foot as the truck began to gain speed, but now steering was becoming a tremendous issue. She kicked off the side of a parked car and rebounded to the other side of the road. She fought the truck back to the center but overcompensated and nearly went into a drainage ditch on the other side.

  Stop pressing on the gas! Ipes wailed.

  Her fear was like an electric charge; it froze her body in place and she could only think about moving one appendage at a time and steering seemed most important to her just then. Before she knew it she had eaten up the mile and could see the Piggly Wiggly off to her left. It looked so peaceful that for a second she wondered if she had the right place, but a second later she saw a little figure running from it. If she had to guess, judging from the direction: south of the store, it was John Gates following
his uncle's orders.

  She let go of the wheel with her left hand and waved for all of a second before the truck lurched away to the right. Jillybean grunted as she battled the four-thousand pound truck, yanking hard on the wheel to bring it in line, and then pushing it back almost right away as the truck swerved more than she counted on. It finally straightened almost exactly when she needed it to turn. The road to the grocery store was fast coming up.

  The little girl put her all into turning the beastly truck and saw with dreadful surety that she wasn't going to make the turn. Her mind grasped the angle of their trajectory and calculated their speed in a blink: they were going to run square into a sturdy fence.

  Brake! Brake! Brake! Ipes screamed. She tried, however the sticks attached to her legs weren't straight and her seat beneath her wasn't secure. The stick slid away from the brake and hit the gas and the truck surged right for the fence.

  To an adult the speed she was traveling would've been more alarming than frightening. She had barely been doing thirty before she punched the gas with her left foot. This extra boost turned into a boon. Before, she probably would have gotten hung up in the fencing but with the extra momentum she flattened it completely and after bouncing across the median her path was righted by the guard rail on the far side of the road.

  Ipes was dazed from all the bouncing. Are we dead?

  "No," she answered, shortly. After bending back the rail, their speed was only slowly coming back. The zebra grew alarmed since more speed was the opposite of what he felt they needed.

  What are you doing? Ipes asked trying to sound calm. The Piggly Wiggly was dead ahead and now the sound of shooting was swelling.

  "Distraction," she answered.

  That's what I was afraid of.

  Jillybean's fear had plateaued. Her heart rate was a zippy 130 and her breath was a hot pant, yet she was functioning. She was able to guide the truck over two different curbs and into the wide expanse of parking lot where driving suddenly became very easy. The truck's speed crept over twenty five and with a quick motion she grabbed her seat belt and clicked in place.

  Jillybean! Ipes cried, realizing what she was going to do. Not this kind of distraction, please!

  "Too late. Hold on!"

  The fence had taught her the valuable lesson of momentum. She had felt her impetus diminish in response to the barrier. Now, there was an even sturdier one ahead. The doors to the grocery store had been boarded over—she needed all the speed she could manage. At thirty two miles an hour the huge iron missile slammed through the wood, blasted apart the glass and steel doors, crushed one of the raiders under its tires, before coming to a halt with its nose in the air and its chasse resting on a mangled hunk of shelving.

  We're alive! Ipes cheered, only a second before bullets started ripping into the metal hide of the truck. They were coming from all sides and Jillybean found she was as pinned in place as Captain Grey was.

  Chapter 15

  Neil Martin

  Piggly Wiggly, Warrior, Alabama

  It was just after five that the team of thirty raiders left to scoop up the fugitives making their break for Tennessee. In their absence the grocery store grew quiet and still. Neil stewed, chewing his normally trim nails until they were ragged. He was astounded that Grey had left him and Sadie behind. There could only be one explanation: the hardy soldier had been injured in the first ambush. If that was so Neil didn't think much of his chances about fighting through the next one.

  Tennessee, Neil thought. What the hell is in Tennessee?

  While Neil descended into a funk, the prisoners around him settled down, looking relaxed, most acting as though a weight had been lifted from their shoulders. Next to him, Travis was all grins. "Fresh meat," he said as way of explanation. Neil's blank look was interpreted correctly that he didn't understand and Travis went on practically giddy, "These fucking jerks like to see new people fight. You see? If they capture a lot of men it means all of us don't have to fight soon."

  "Oh. So, will they still want a fight for tonight?" Neil asked, hoping they wouldn't, hoping to have another day to figure out a plan or to get lucky, or to just keep breathing.

  "Oh yeah," Travis said with a big grin. "But the good news is that Gunner will have even more to lose!" He rubbed his hands together and cackled. No one said anything to this odd display.

  Neil went back to brooding over his predicament until he caught himself blaming Sarah. If she hadn't run off…"Then the bounty hunter would've got us," he answered himself in a sullen whisper. It seemed they were doomed no matter what.

  He was in the middle of a long sigh when there came the sound of a gunshot on the southeast side of the store. This was followed by Gunner cursing loud enough for the whole store to hear: "What the fuck was that? Johnnie Walk, check on the prisoners. Make sure they're not escaping."

  Suddenly, from the back of the store there was a thumping like someone kicking hollow metal. Johnnie Walker stood in the doorway peeking around the corner. "Someone ain't escaping," he called over his shoulder. "Some idiot just broke in. Hey you, get your hands up where I can…"

  The gunshot and the blood geysering from Johnnie Walker's forehead seemed to occur simultaneously. The prisoner on the end of the line was coated in red gore and then had Walkers corpse fall on him. He screamed in horror, but the sound was lost as more gun shots shook the air. Gunner was up and shouting orders at the top of his lungs.

  Raiders came rushing around the corners and soon the din of automatic weapons was ear shattering and the chaos unnerving as men ducked in and out of doorways to shoot at unseen foemen. The prisoners could only cower and hope they didn't catch a stray bullet in the head. Only Neil remained calm and alert; there was only one man he knew heroic and skilled enough to attempt an assault against such odds.

  After three minutes, two more of Gunner's men were laid out on the floor in pools of red. The raider leader punched the wall and turned to two of his men. "Mook and Cali, get your asses around that fork lift and flank them," he ordered.

  "I wouldn't do that if I was you," Neil said. Unlike the others he was sitting as if at a picnic with his legs stretched out in front of him. "Your best bet is to negotiate."

  Gunner's lip curled and he looked to be on the verge of saying something nasty to Neil, but instead he turned to the two men and said "Go!"

  Mook was killed after two strides. Neil couldn't see what was happened to Cali but assumed he made it to cover because there was a new sound to the shooting.

  "Negotiate my ass," Gunner scoffed.

  "You don't know this man," Neil told him. "He'll kill you all and not break a sweat. I think he used to be a Ranger or Special Forces."

  Gunner spun around the door and emptied half a magazine in Captain Grey's direction before leaping back. "Wrong, dipshit. He ain't killing no one, we got him pinned down."

  A minute later another of the raiders came hurrying up. "Someone's shooting up the front of the building. I think they're going to attack!"

  Gunner looked toward the front for a second before saying. "It's only one gun, they're trying to split us up. Check the front door and…and push a couple of shelves in front of it and get back here."

  Neil smiled at this exchange and when a truck blasted in the front door a minute later he actually chuckled. Gunner sent men to the front of the store and the shooting intensified to a new level. When there was a lull Neil called out, "Let's discuss terms."

  "The terms of what?"

  "The terms of your surrender. I think if you let all the prisoners go and give up a number of weapons and maybe some fuel, he'll let you live."

  "Fuck you!" Gunner cried, stomping toward Neil. "How about instead I use you as a human shield? Maybe that will get your friends to think twice before shooting." He bent and unlocked Neil's chain.

  Neil didn't resist. He stood, eagerly and did not need to be pushed to the door, but he did stop just shy of it. "Get a good grip," he said to Gunner. He even smiled at the man. He was ready
to die. It was a feeling so euphoric that it overrode any fear that he might have been feeling.

  What happened to the old Neil? he wondered.

  "Before we go out there take a look at Johnnie Walk, and ask yourself if I'm going to be all that effective as a human shield," Neil suggested. The hole in the raider's forehead was dead center. "The guy who did that isn't even the most dangerous one of us. We have a girl who likes fire and explosions. The bigger the better. I don't think you have much time."

  As Neil had no idea where Jillybean was and certainly didn't realize she was currently tucked in a ball and stuffed as far up into the footwell of the truck as she could get, he was entirely bluffing. Still, he smiled as easily as a man about to order brunch.

  "I can guarantee your safety," he added as Gunner seemed struck by indecision. "You'll hold onto me as a surety that you and your men won't be injured. I think, as a minimum they will want a thousand rounds of ammo, five or six guns; those AR-15s look good, and maybe some food and gas. It's a small price to pay for your lives I would think."

  "You're bluffing," Gunner said as though trying to convince himself it was true.

  "Then call my bluff," Neil said. "Use me as a human shield and see what happens." Gunner hesitated long enough for Neil to know he'd won. "Call a cease fire in place and I'll do the same, so we can talk."

  There was a misting of sweat across Gunner's forehead. He swallowed once, looked around at the bodies of his men and slowly nodded his head. "Ok, let's do this. Just to talk. Cease fire! Cease fire!"

  The call was taken up and when the firing died down Neil yelled out, "Captain Grey, have the men cease fire and uh…hold in place. We're arranging a peace treaty."

  "Affirmative, but tell that fuck, I want all the prisoners," Grey yelled. "There will be no trying to dick us over."

  "I want more than just prisoners," Neil called back to Grey. He turned to Gunner. "Are my demands suitable?"

  Gunner took a long breath before saying, "Five hundred rounds, three guns, one truck. Nothing else. We can still fight our way out of this and my other men won't be gone forever." Gunner eyed Neil closely, but Neil was not new to negotiations. He'd been a high-stakes corporate raider at one time in his life and he knew the greatest secret to negotiating lay in the ability and willingness to walk away from the table empty handed.