“Why?”
“BT isn’t going to make it.”
“What do you think we should do? Join him?”
“I know you won’t, but I’m going to help him.”
“Your funeral,” she said as she stopped just long enough for him to get off. She sped away without looking back.
“Bitch,” he said quietly.
Deneaux flipped him the bird.
“No way, there’s no way she heard me.” He turned to get in position to cover BT’s approach.
The zombies were sprinting to catch up, but the gang was motorized. “It’s almost going to be a tie,” Gary said, not really knowing which group he should start to sight in on. It seemed that the zombies were having the same problem. BT was who they had been focused on; but the bigger, louder (more food) group was coming into their killing grounds. The majority of the zombies peeled off their pursuit of BT and headed to the new dinner buffet.
Q-Ball was so fixated on exacting his revenge he was blind to the new threat, but not all of his gang were. A fair number slowed and either turned around or waited on the periphery. Q-Ball was close enough to BT that he pulled his sidearm out of his holster and rested it on his handle bars. Gary had opted for the zombies to BT’s left because his avenue of escape was being threatened. What the biker’s did wouldn’t matter if BT couldn’t make it to Gary to begin with.
BT had the luck of the angels on his side when Q-Ball’s shot whined off the top of BT’s handlebars. BT presented a much larger target, and as such, should have been the one to catch the round. As it was, BT almost crashed as his front wheel shook violently—his great strength the only thing keeping the bike upright. Gary turned his attention to Q-Ball when he heard the round.
Gary’s gut wrenched as he sighted in on a human being, but Q-Ball had gained more ground on his friend and the odds that he would miss again had been greatly reduced.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned…” he said as he pulled the trigger.
A geyser of blood erupted from Q-Ball’s throat. The bike fell and slid along the ground, it slammed into at least five zombies, destroying their bodies as it went. However, there were plenty more where they came from as they descended on the dying biker. Gary imagined he could hear the gurgled screams for help as the zombies tore him apart. BT had surged ahead of the lead zombies who now turned their attention back to the gang that suddenly found themselves leaderless and cut off from retreat.
Gunfire blazed as BT pulled up to Gary. “Where’s Deneaux?”
“She took off,” Gary replied.
“Thank you, Gary.”
“It was you or him,” Gary said, looking a little worse for the wear.
“I’d have to say you chose wisely, come on, man, hop on.”
Gary looked at what remained of the motorcycle seat and was not convinced that an anemic spider monkey would be able to fit. Still, he hopped on, half his ass hanging over the rear fender. The gang would not last long and the zombies were always hungry.
They had traveled a couple of miles at the most when they could no longer hear gunfire.
“Do you think it’s over?” Gary asked. He didn’t have to yell, the traffic was so thick the bike was barely moving.
“Doesn’t matter, whichever side won will still be coming for us,” BT said, dodging an engine block that looked like it had been ejected from its former location by a rocket launcher.
“What the hell happened here?” Gary asked, looking around.
“Not sure, but I bet it has something to do with that.” BT took his hand off the handle bars for a moment to point before quickly putting it back.
“Checkpoint ahead, be prepared to stop and have your vehicle searched,” Gary read the sign. “Well, leave it to the military to really foul things up.”
“I don’t think your brother could have said it any more eloquently.”
“There it is,” Gary said, pointing past BT’s face; although how BT could have possibly missed the hastily erected gates replete with razor wire, gun turrets, and the standard deuce-and-a-half military trucks was anybody’s guess.
“So the US military in all its infinite wisdom backs up traffic for days and the zombies swoop in thinking this is the world’s largest food court,” BT said.
“And then they start firing on everything, living and dead, trying to contain the virus,” Gary finished. “These people start firing at the zombies and the military…bad news.”
BT merely nodded. “Almost out of here.” The closer they got to the front, the worse the devastation. Large divots of earth where mortars, grenades and rockets had hit were removed. Finding a viable way around was becoming its own hazard.
“I’m getting off,” Gary told BT.
“You can walk faster than I’m going anyway.”
“Not that I’m not appreciative, BT, but I’d rather find another ride.”
“Fuck it.” BT got off the bike. He shut it off and put the kick stand down. “I’ll leave it here just in case, but there has to be something up closer than we can take.”
“I hope so,” Gary said. He wasn’t holding out hope, though; it looked like the cars here had been used for target practice. Large caliber machinegun rounds were ripped through most of them. People, plastic, wood, and steel were shredded along with the occasional zombie. “It doesn’t really look like they cared what they were shooting at,” Gary said as he did the Holy Trinity on his chest. BT remained silent, the anger inside of him threatening to boil over.
A large horn blat stopped them both in their tracks, followed immediately by a cackle and the roar of a diesel engine turning over. BT and Gary broke into a trot to see what Mrs. Deneaux was up to now. She beeped the horn a few more times for good measure.
“Fuck, woman, the whole world is going to know where we’re at!” BT yelled as they got to within hailing distance.
“Too late, fuckwad!” she screamed as she leaned her head out the window and pointed behind the duo. Scores of speeders were streaming towards Gary and BT.
“I guess the bikers lost,” Gary said as he broke into a sprint, followed immediately by BT who quickly outpaced him.
“Your brother was right,” BT said over his shoulder. “You are slow.”
“Funny, don’t make me shoot you,” Gary huffed.
A puff of black smoke belched from the deuce’s exhaust stack.
“Is she leaving?” Gary cried, trying to find another gear he did not possess. Barring any unfortunate mishap he felt safe in the assumption that he could make it ahead of the lead zombies, but anything past where the truck was now and he was food.
“Fucking bitch,” BT said as he surged forward, finding that gear that Gary found so elusive.
Gary had not felt so alone since a junior high dance when his girlfriend Maureen O’Connell had started to dance with his then best friend Pat McDonough. He had not talked to either one since. “Weird thought,” Gary mumbled as he plodded on, gaining on the truck but losing ground with the zombies.
The truck, which was facing the traffic jam, was now backing up; Deneaux cut the wheel to the right, then started to swing the truck around. She had it facing away as she backed up to its earlier spot.
BT had caught up and jumped onto the runner on the driver’s side. “Move your skinny ass over!” he yelled.
“I hope you can drive one of these better than the motorcycle,” she quipped as she placed the truck in park and did as she was told.
“Getting in the back!” Gary yelled as he hoisted himself up and in. He pulled the small tailgate closed and quickly placed the left side locking pin in place. He was not thrilled with his choice of riding spots as the zombies were close enough to shake hands with. “GO, GO, GO!” he screamed.
Gary scrambled back down the narrow truck bed. He got his rifle ready and shot the first zombie as it came
