Ace sat on the metal bench in the back of the Turtle, asmile on his face and a cigarette in his hand. Pudge handed him a beer, andasked, "How was it?"
Ace didn't have the word for it, so he said, "It'slike when you're with a woman, and you get to that point, and POP!" Aceheld up his fist and mimicked an exploding gesture. "You know what Imean?"
"Orgasmic?"
"Sure," Ace said. "I like that.Orgasmic."
****
Ace was drinking from a warm beer when Slutty Rivetsyelled, "We got some action up here. Looks like some rats are trying toleave the sewer."
Ace drained the rest of the contents in the red, white,and blue can, crushed it, and tossed it on the ground where it clanged off thedeck of the Turtle. He then moved to look out the front window of the vehicle.In front was a group of people, their eyes round with fear, their bodiescovered in sweat. They were bathed in the headlights of the Turtle. Behind theTurtle, the cars were stacking up. There were maybe ten left according toPudge, who actually seemed to care about these things.
"What do you think?" Slutty Rivets asked.
"There's not enough beer to go around," Acesaid. "Run them over."
"You're a sick fuck," Spider said whilelaughing.
"The world's sick. We're the cure," Ace said.
Slutty Rivets threw the vehicle into drive, and steppedon the accelerator. Ace grabbed a handle that was riveted to the steel frame ofthe vehicle, as the tires squealed on the ground. He smiled again, and then theStryker exploded.
Chapter 37: The Third Time is the Charm
Zeke stood ready to move. Whoever was behind the wheel ofthe Stryker was not the type of person that could be trusted. They stood there,waiting. And then Zeke heard it, the telltale sound of rotors chopping air at292 revolutions per minute. It was close, and behind the buildings in thedistance, he saw an Apache appear.
Then two things happened at once. The apache flashed abright orange as the Stryker's tires began to squeal.
"Get down!" Zeke yelled, shoving his band ofsurvivors to the side. Zeke watched as the tires bit into the asphalt and theStryker lurched forward, and then it exploded into a hail of metal andshrapnel.
The concussion of the blast knocked him backwards,through the air, but it wasn't fast enough to prevent an inch-thick piece ofthe Stryker's armored plating from catching up to him and puncturing hisabdomen. He landed on the ground, the air knocked out of him, and a piece ofjagged metal sticking out of his stomach.
He tasted blood in his mouth, and he couldn't see out ofhis left eye. He lay down on his back and watched as the Apache banked aroundto his right and began firing on the line of cars behind the Stryker. The skylit up like the 4th of July as cars exploded in geysers of flame and metal. Hemused, Would there ever be another 4th of July?
Then the pain hit him. It wasn't the type of pain thatsays, "Hey, you're hurt, but if you slow down, you'll be alright."This was the type of pain that said, "You're hurt real bad, but your bodyis shutting down now. It'll all be over in a bit."
He rested his head on the pavement, still warm from theday's heat. He listened to the exploding of cars, the chop of the apache, andthe screams in the night. His legs seemed to not exist.
Then hands were lifting him up. Lou was there, his face acloud of concern. Katie was there too, her eyes cold and hard. Zeke was sad hewasn't going to be there to break that hardness down.
They stood him up and draped his shoulders over Lou andthe cowboy. Blake he'd said his name was. Zeke wondered if the man's hearingwould ever come back. They ran down the street, Zeke's feet dangling uselessly,bumping and scraping across the pavement, dragging through pieces of shrapneland bits of burnt and charred flesh.
His head lolled from side to side. On one side, he saw arow of flaming cars, burning in the night. On the other side, he saw a horde ofthe dead advancing towards them, their slow, plodding progress unfazed by thehelicopter above as it dropped metal shell casings onto the pavement with eachpass. The smell was familiar. War smell, drifting through the summer night.
Time stopped for Zeke, and he saw it all. His life wasspread before him, like a picnic blanket set with memories. Over here, in anice bucket was the first woman he'd slept with, skinny, breasts that werebarely there, a starter chick if ever there was one. On the other side restingon a plate was a small picture of his father, beer breath and shirtless in theJuly sun. Around the blanket, the dead crawled like ants, small, unceasing, andready to devour every single memory he had ever had.
When he came to, he was lying on the ground, peoplearound him. There were no tears for him. They hadn't gotten that far. They weresad, muted, but there would be no tears for his passing. If only he had enoughtime, then maybe he could have built those relationships, made up for the yearsof time he had frittered away polishing guns, drinking beer, and making surehis lawn was green.
"What are you guys looking at? You act like you'venever seen anyone die before." He laughed, coughing on his own blood. Thenhe was gone.
****
Lou watched Zeke pass. His last words... man that washard. He would miss the man. When Zeke was there, he always felt likeeverything was going to be alright, like nothing could stop the man. He waslike the fucking Terminator, muscles, brains, hell, he even had the looks. Nowhe was gone, and the truth dawned on everyone, as if at once... If he candie, then so can we.
Conversation was at a minimum. They sat
