Hollis shook his head. “The next stop is the park. We’re hitting the ground running so…” He pulled the map out and handed it to Hatcher. “We’ll go over it now. You need to be ready to go the moment we touch terra firma.”
Squirrel slowed the bike and cast a quick glance around the area before pulling into the mini-mart. He shut off the engine and strained his ears to listen for sounds of approaching infected or screams that might indicate they had been spotted. The roar of Slug’s Harley, however, essentially covered any sounds he might have detected.
Once the Harley was shut down, Squirrel stepped away from the two machines and cupped his hands to his ears. He felt it was safe to continue and took a tentative step toward the front of the store.
“We really gonna do this? Simon has scroungers that do this shit all the time.”
Squirrel stiffened. “Wouldn’t you like to get your hands on any beer that wasn’t pilfered before the scroungers scoop it up?” He turned and gave the man a wicked smile. “I would think you’d like the opportunity to pick your favorite brand and decide for yourself how much was enough.”
Slug’s eyes widened, and he quickly jumped from the bike. “Yeah. That sounds like a hell of an idea.” He pushed past Squirrel and marched toward the mini-mart. “I just hope there’s still some left.”
Squirrel sighed and fell into step behind him.
The front doors had been broken and money was scattered across the floor of the darkened store. Trash was scattered everywhere and most of the food stuff was missing. He could hear Slug slamming things in the back of the store and cursing under his breath.
Squirrel moved to the rear of the counter and tried a door. It was locked. A quick check with his shoulder and it gave way. He pulled his lighter and flicked it on. Cleaning supplies.
He turned and made his way to the other side of the store and noted the door to the dry goods storage was kicked open. A quick search indicated the place had been picked clean.
“Not even a stray bottle in the walk-in.” Slug slapped at the top of a shelf and stormed passed him.
“There are other places we can check.”
“And they’ll be picked clean, too.” Slug paused at his bike and stared off into the distance. He blinked twice and squinted against his sunglasses. Slowly, he pulled them off and Squirrel noted his head turning slightly to the side.
“What’s up?”
“Man, I could have sworn I saw flashes on that hill. Like somebody was using a mirror to signal us.”
Squirrel followed his pointing hand and saw nothing.
“A reflection off trash?”
Slug’s head shook slightly. “No way, man. This was like…”
A scream behind them sent both men into defensive mode. Pistols were pulled and both men squatted low, scanning the area behind them. Slug spotted the ragers running toward them, the lead attacker practically running on all fours.
“Fuck, man, they’re closing fast.” Slug ran to his Harley and flipped the kickstand up while simultaneously hitting the starter button. The old Harley coughed, farted, and belched, but refused to turn over.
Squirrel hopped onto the Indian and his engine roared to life with the first turn.
“Don’t you leave me, man!” Slug mashed the starter button harder, his jaw clenched so tight that his molars should have cracked.
“Get on! Now, dammit!” Squirrel revved his engine, but Slug continued to try starting his own ride. He continuously turned his head over his shoulder gauging how close the ragers were.
“Don’t be stupid, Slug! Get on the fuckin’ bike!” Squirrel realized the man was too stupid to realize they could come back for the bike and kicked his Indian into gear.
He couldn’t hear Slug’s screaming as he revved the engine and spun the bike around, leaving a black semi-circle on the pavement as he spun around the charged head first into the oncoming ragers. He goosed the throttle and tried to lift the heavy cruiser into a wheelie, but it was simply too heavy. Instead, he pulled his pistol and began firing into the small crowd, hoping they had the sense to scatter.
He kicked down on the rear brake and spun the ass end of the bike around, knocking the lead attacker down and nearly laying the huge motorcycle on its side. He goosed the throttle again and shot off to the left of the crowd. He hugged the tank when he saw a rager launch herself toward him and he felt something tear at his leather jacket as she sailed over him.
He barely caught a glimpse of Slug tearing away from the parking lot, leaving him to deal with the ragers on his own. He knew the man was a coward, but he didn’t think he’d bail on him in a situation like this.
He goosed the bike and turned toward the same street that Slug had left on. He opened her up and went through his gears as fast as the bike could rev. He found himself taking the curves too quickly, but he was determined to catch up to Slug.
The black and white Harley came into view and Squirrel let off the gas. He was still catching up to the coward, but he wanted to do it safely. He considered using his pistol and bringing the bastard to a fateful finish, but decided to humiliate him a bit first. As he came alongside Slug, he shot his foot out and kicked him off balance. The Harley waggled on the road while Slug tried to regain control, but quickly flipped to its side, sending its rider sprawling.
Squirrel shut down the Indian and stepped toward the slow-moving Slug as he tried to recover from what should have been a bad case of road rash. He pushed himself over and found Squirrel standing over him, his pistol pointed directly at his face.
“What the fuck, man?” Slug squinted against the sun as he stared
