had rubbed off on me, more than likely it was just my heightened awareness of paranoia.
“Aw Talbot, you got that look on you.” BT lamented.
“What look, BT?” Tracy asked, looking in vain in the rear view mirror to see what had my panties all up in a roar.
“Oh that look that says troubles coming.”
“Yeah and its driving three white Ford pickup trucks, probably F-350’s by the size of them. Travis?” I shook him awake. He came to full consciousness in under a handful of heartbeats.
“Yeah dad?”
“Start handing out guns.” I told him without ever taking my eyes off of the rapidly approaching trucks. He didn’t question me. He didn’t hesitate. Within thirty seconds we were all outfitted with our favorite projectile lobber. I motioned to Brendon through the rear windshield that he should do the same as I pointed vigorously to my rifle. He held his up in response. He was of the same ilk that I was.
“Do you want to drive Mike?” Tracy asked.
There were pros and cons to that question. The pros being that I could have her hide under the dashboard and into some semblance of safety. The cons were my shooting would be seriously hampered and we would have to pull over to make the change. Our pursuers, if that was what they were, would make up some valuable time.
“Mike?” She asked looking for a response to her earlier query. I was still in the midst of weighing options. “Should I speed up?”
“God no!” BT shouted.
I inwardly laughed. Tracy’s driving was suspect to begin with. Tracy driving with speed was tantamount to suicide by light pole.
Tracy turned all the way around to fix her steely eyed gaze full bore on BT.
“The road.” He said meekly. “Eyes on the road.” He pointed at his own as if to illustrate the point. “You gonna help me here Talbot?”
“You’re on your own man.”
After what seemed like an indeterminable amount of time she finally relented, feeling that she had made her point, she turned back to the highway.
“Holy fuck.” BT mumbled.
“You say something BT?” Tracy asked angrily as she adjusted the rear view mirror to look at him. “I didn’t think so.” She said. When he didn’t answer immediately.
We waited, not as long as we wanted, but longer still than it seemed due to the tension. Tracy was traveling at a steady 65, our chasers must have been doing a pavement chewing 100 or so with the way they were gaining on us.
BT and I were now completely turned around, fixated on the chasers.
“Any chance they’re military?” BT asked hopefully.
“Doubt it.” I answered.
“Fellow survivors?” He queried.
“Well they’re survivors alright, but I don’t think they are of the fellowship type.” I knew BT was going to keep piecemealing questions together until he got to the heart of my unease. I didn’t give him the chance. “It’s those damn white trucks, like they all had to get the same damn thing, like a gang. Normal folks just trying to get through the day wouldn’t give a shit about what they were driving, so long as they were driving away from a shit storm. And the way they’re driving.”
“Maybe they just need some help.” Tracy interjected.
“Don’t squash my neurotic obsessions, Hon, they tend to keep us alive.”
The lead truck had made its way to Brendon’s wake. There was no waving, no horn beeping, no headlights flashing, no daisy throwing, no American flags.
“So much for needing help.” I said sourly.
“It was just a suggestion.” Tracy said peevishly, thinking that I was belittling her comment.
I was about to foolishly reply. It was my innate ability to get into trouble when no such thing existed, when I was saved by BT.
“Talbot.” He said getting my attention back.
The lead truck was pulling up alongside Brendon’s minivan, the trailing two Ford’s filled in the vacant gap, one on each side of the roadway. I saw a yellow gap toothed, mullet donning man, ironically wearing a Chevy hat lean out of the passenger side door. He was looking straight down and into the smaller vehicle. His lascivious grin was evident even from this distance. I watched as he ducked back into the truck, he held up two fingers and laughed. I was sort of impressed that he had the ability to count.
“What’s he doing?” Tracy asked nervously looking through her rear view mirrors.
“Counting.” BT filled in.
“Counting what?” Tracy asked.
“Women.” I said coldly.
“Dad.” Travis said alarmed. “There are guys in the back of the truck.”
I had been so fixated on the cab I hadn’t looked. How the fuck I had missed them was beyond me. Three armed men were standing attached to some sort of harness device to a roll bar in the back.”
“What the fuck are they doing?” BT asked.
“They’re strapped in to the truck so they don’t fall out when they try to take us over.”
“Take us over? What are you talking about Mike?” Tracy asked, her fear almost ended the confrontation right there and then. She had let her foot come off the accelerator and our minivan was slowing at an alarming rate while Brendon was intent on keeping an eye on the truck next to him was inadvertently pressing down on the accelerator in a vain attempt to get out from the situation. He actually tapped our bumper before Tracy realized what was happening. Redneck number one thought it was the funniest thing he had ever seen. He motioned to the driver to speed up.
Within seconds our newfound guests were along our broadside. Redneck #1 was even uglier up close, his pock marked face must have made him a true charmer in high school. If not for rape, farm animals or his sister I was sure he would have never been laid. He leaned back in. My heart stilled as I watched him mouth the words ‘Only one’, and then he laughed. Before they sped up to get in front of us he leaned back out and made a ‘V’ sign with his fingers, his long tobacco stained tongue flicked back and forth in the base of the sign.
“Fuck you!” I yelled leaning over Tracy’s lap.
He laughed and spit out some chew, he motioned for the driver to pull ahead.
“Fuck. Tracy you can’t let him pull ahead.”
“Why not, maybe they’ll just keep going.” She said.
“Remember that talk we had a few years back about the Easter bunny and how he isn’t real.”
“Fuck you Talbot.”
“That’s the Tracy, I’m looking for. Do not let him pull ahead of us, once he does those three gunmen in the back have us.”
Tracy’s foot turned to molten lead. The Terrible Teal machine for all its ugliness, gave us all she had. Redneck number one was motioning for his driver to go faster. His expression, a cross between wonder and anger.
He was never going to hear me but I said it anyway. It was more of uplifting to us in the car anyway. “You picked the wrong caravan to waylay, dipshit. We’re not your typical sheep.”
He might not have heard me but my crazy grin, I could tell, had unsettled him some. He was yelling at the driver. The truck was inching forward, the cab of their truck was now even with our front grill.
“Tracy.”
“I’m trying damnit!” She screamed. The minivan whined under the strain. Brendon and the two chaser trucks fell behind. The tachometer was buried in the red. I could hear the hamsters in the engine caterwauling for their lives. The Ford fell back a couple of inches or the minivan surged, tough to tell at 120. The three men in the back were even with us but seemed much more intent on holding on for dear life than firing off any rounds. We were creeping even. Tracy was sweating bullets. Oh, nope that was me. I was dripping all over her while I leaned over to
