Plague World (Ashley Parker Novel) (27 page)

Everything hurt. I felt like I’d been dumped in a cement mixer with a load of gravel and spun around a few times. The last time I’d hurt this badly had been when the Walker’s virus had raged through my body. I was vaguely aware that the music had changed, Bach replaced by the hauntingly beautiful hymn “Amazing Grace.”

Suddenly the asshole was right behind me, leaning over me, pulling my arms behind my back with a jerk that nearly dislocated both shoulders.

“I expected better,” he whispered in my ear as he slipped a plastic zip tie around my wrists and cinched it tight.

“Sykes, what are you doing!” the first mook called to him. “You’ve had your fun, now cap her already. The old man wants her dead—”

“I don’t give a shit what he wants,” Sykes barked back. “We don’t work for him, remember? I don’t trust that half-dead fuck or his infected lapdog. And if Miss Hot Shit wild card here means something to him, well maybe there’s value in that… maybe something we can keep back for ourselves in case this shit goes sideways.”

The organ music suddenly stuttered and stopped completely. The silence that followed made my chest ache.

Sykes walked around in front of me and admired his handiwork.

“I’ve always wanted to fuck a superhero, but I guess you’ll do.” He shook his head in mock sadness. “Yessir, I really did expect better…” Then he hit me again, just for kicks.

And that was just one too many.

It all came bubbling up at once—losing Gabriel, losing my friends, Griff’s betrayal, Aimee’s sacrifice… And now I was going to go out on my knees in front of this douchebag. My blood started to boil. I wouldn’t have been surprised if steam started pouring from my ears.

No. I wouldn’t waste the sacrifice Aimee was giving me, or the memory of her daughter.

I began to strain against the zip tie, shaking with rage as the plastic bit into my wrists and cut off the circulation. But I wouldn’t let that stop me, not even when my vision darkened and my heartbeats started pounding in my ears.

Fuck it.

It’s just plastic.

“Aw, isn’t that cute,” the raspy voice chuckled. “Save your strength, bitch. Those are industrial ties, they’re rated for—”

Pop.

My arms were suddenly free and I lunged blindly, swinging for the last place I’d seen him clearly, putting everything I had into the blow. I took him by surprise and the punch landed flush, just above his sternum. Hell, it might’ve gone all the way through him if his flak vest hadn’t taken the brunt of the impact. But there was still enough left to knock him off his feet.

He hit the ground in a heap and slid a few more feet after that. As tempted as I was to savor the sight of him lying in the dirt, groaning and gasping for breath, I didn’t dare give him a chance to recover.

So I went after him, still riding the adrenaline rush as I lifted him off the ground like a rag doll, and flung him at the nearest tree. Sykes hit about six feet up the trunk with a crunch, hanging there for a brief moment before tumbling to the ground.

“Hope that makes up for your disappointment,” I snarled.

I turned back toward Asshole Number Two. He stood there slack-jawed at what he’d just seen. Our eyes met and I smiled. Whatever he saw in my eyes was enough to snap him out of his stupor and he fumbled for the firearm that was hanging on a sling at his side.

As I lunged for him, JT suddenly came to life, shoving backward into the guy and grappling with him as best he could. Then he did a little jump, bringing his legs up and through his own bound arms so they were no longer secured behind him. His feet continued up and over into a perfect somersault, and somehow he planted a heel in his captor’s face along the way, the old manic grin back on his face.

It was an impressive bit of Gymkata. Kurt Thomas would’ve been proud.

Striding forward, I caught the stunned mercenary by the throat.

“No bluffs this time,” I told him through clenched teeth and blood, my rage still burning nice and hot. “You give me answers, or I crush your windpipe. Understood?”

The man gave a weak nod.

“Who is this ‘old man’ who wants me dead?” I asked. He kept silent. “Who are you working for!” Nothing. I tightened my grip for emphasis. “I won’t ask again. Got it?”

“Get down!”

JT suddenly hit me with a body block, bowling me over a split-second before a barrage of incoming rounds arrived, like a swarm of angry bees erupting right where I’d been standing. They hit the creep I’d been interrogating instead.

JT and I didn’t stick around to see if he survived. We scrambled for cover, beating a hasty retreat, zigzagging through the trees with JT leading the way.

“Two more,” he called back as more rounds zipped over our heads. “They fanned out just before you showed up.”

Well, hell
, I thought. Nathan or Gabriel would have known better than to assume there were only two of them.
Rookie move, Parker.

The gunfire tapered off, but JT and I kept moving, using the vegetation for cover, pausing only to check for pursuers before starting off again, still zigzagging.

Serpentine, serpentine!

I giggled quietly and inappropriately, wishing my dad was there doing his Peter Falk impression.

“That was a pretty awesome stunt you pulled back there,” JT said, slowing down a little so I could keep pace with him. “I didn’t know you were that strong.”

“Neither did I,” I admitted. “Fucker made me mad.”

“Hulk smash,” JT grinned, then took off at a sprint again as more “bees” buzzed past us. He pulled ahead into another thick tangle, vanishing from sight.

“Damn it,” I panted. “Wait up! We need to stay together!”

I picked up my pace and plowed through the trees after him. I emerged into daylight again almost immediately, momentarily blinded by the sun just long enough to trip on a stray root and start to fall face forward, hair coming out of its braid and into my eyes.

Strong arms caught me and kept me from doing a face plant, holding onto me as I regained my balance and tightening as I tried to push away. I cocked back a fist, ready to kick more ass.

“Whoa there, baby sister,” said a reedy voice I didn’t recognize, with a hint of a southern accent. “What’s your hurry, darlin’? We’re all friends here.”

That brought me up short just before I let fly. I got my first good look at the man who was holding me. Older, early sixties maybe, with a wind-burned face and limp silver hair down to his shoulders, he reminded me of Sam Elliott in
Road House
. He wore a heavy flannel shirt under a leather vest, the latter adorned with several patches. They were a little too close to my face for me to focus on them.

I could, however, see the patches on the other men a few feet away, all leaning on large Harley Davidsons. One of them, a bear of a man with a long goatee, was standing with his arm around JT’s shoulders like they were old friends. The slightly panicked look on JT’s face and the fact his feet were dangling off the ground said otherwise.

There were seven of them in total, each wearing a leather vest that matched my new pal’s. They were dressed in jeans and heavy boots, with bandanas and sunglasses. I rapidly considered my next move, deciding I’d try and reason with them before resorting to more violence, although I fully expected that to be the outcome.

Before I could utter a word, however, two more commandos in black burst out of the trees behind us. They looked as stunned as I’d been to see the bikers, briefly letting the barrels of their submachine guns lower before raising them again.

“Welcome to the party, boys,” one of the bikers said calmly. “But you may have to go for more beer. I don’t think we brought enough for everyone.”

“Give us the girl,” said one of the commandos in a no-nonsense tone. “That’s all we want. There doesn’t have to be any trouble.”

“Oh, I think there does,” Silver Hair sighed. He reached up and turned my face from side to side, examining my bruises and busted lips. “Looks like you already had your chance. Sloppy work.” He shook his head. “Nah, I think we’ll handle it from here. You just run along, okay?”

The two exchanged knowing looks.

“You gonna back that up, pappy?” one of them said, making a little gesture with his weapon.

The old man seemed unconcerned.

“Oh, I don’t know. I imagine we’ll come up with something. What do you think, Bird?”

“Sounds about right,” came a response from
behind
the commandos as two more bikers stepped out of the trees, each with a hand tucked inside his vest as if reaching for something.

Wait, more of them?

No, those two looked familiar. I glanced around and found two of the Harleys unattended. I don’t know what was more impressive—that they’d moved so fast, or that they’d done it completely unnoticed, like ninja bikers.

Surrounded now, the commandos started to fidget and I wasn’t sure what they might do next. I hoped it didn’t include spraying all of us in a hail of bullets.

“Gentlemen.”

One of the other bikers spoke up, his voice soft yet commanding. Clean-shaven except for a little chin fuzz, he wore a watchcap with a flaming skull insignia on the front. And though he wasn’t as large as some of the others, something about him said “leader.” He just sat there, leaning on his bike with his arms folded across his chest, waiting until he knew he had the mooks’ attention before continuing.

“Do the math,” he said simply. “Walk away.” The two bikers behind them punctuated their leader’s words with the ominous sound of something metallic being ratcheted.

The commandos exchanged nervous looks again.

“You win,” one of them said. “Keep the bitch. Take turns for all I care.” He looked directly at me and gave an ugly grin. “At least we would’ve done you quick.” He mimed putting a bullet in his head.

With that lovely sentiment, the two cautiously backed away into the trees and out of sight. A few beats later one of the bikers—Bird, I think—disappeared after them.

Well, that was interesting.

I exchanged a quick look with JT and saw the same mixture of admiration and confusion. Were these enemies or allies?

Hell, I was more than impressed. I was nervous. But I hid my anxiety behind a tough façade. I leaned in to the older biker.

“You gonna let me go,” I whispered, “or do I have to make you?”

Silver Hair cackled at that. He held out his arms to release me, and bowed graciously in doing so.

“As you wish.”

I gave a crooked grin. “Thank you, Farm Boy.”

That got a laugh from the other bikers, as well as JT. He looked up at his captor.

“How about letting me touch terra firma again, boss?”

The hulk obligingly set JT down, giving him a pat on the head as he did so.

Now what?

We sized one another up for a moment or two and then Bird re-emerged from the trees.

“They’re leaving, all right,” he reported. “Didn’t even stop for their wounded.” He looked at me with admiration and added, “She really did a number on two of ’em.” Then he went back to his bike.

“So what now?” I asked. Because, well, I really wanted to know. Was this the point where things got all rapey?

The leader swung a leg over his bike and put his sunglasses on.

“I guess we get moving.” He glanced back at me. “Cabrillo Point, right?”

Whoa. Talk about a kick in the figurative nuts.

“Who
are
you people?”

The leader grinned. “Just passing through, y’know? We were down at the border, visiting friends when the shit went down. We’re working our way back home to Tacoma. Then we get a call about a damsel in distress…” He took out his smartphone, keyed in something and held it out to show a picture of me in my zombie fighting gear.

“How… who…” I stopped, totally flummoxed.

“Looks like you’ve got a guardian angel.”

“Who?”

He shrugged. “Someone who knew who we are, and where we were.”

“You’re military?”

“Ex, most of us. But we stay connected. You never know when there’ll be a need.” He grinned again. “Sometimes you get the army, and sometimes you get the reserves.”

I gave a crooked grin. “And sometimes you get a motorcycle gang?”

“Club,” one of the other men corrected. He was older, like Silver Hair, but bigger. “Not a gang. We’re a club.”

JT raised an eyebrow. “And the difference is?”

“We follow the rules,” the leader said. “Most of the time. None of that
Sons of Anarchy
bullshit. No meth, no coke.”

“Unless it’s diet,” another one cackled.

“No guns?” I asked.

“Oh, we carry,” the leader said. “Legally. But Cali doesn’t recognize out-of-state permits, and none of us are stationed here.”

“So you totally bluffed those assholes into backing down?” I looked over at the two bikers who’d snuck around behind them. They grinned at me and one pulled out what looked like a pistol. He cocked the hammer, making that ominous sound again, and flame shot out from the muzzle.

“Let me get this straight,” I said. “You faked out a couple of mercs, and now you’re gonna get me and JT from here to Cabrillo Point on unprotected bikes through a buttload of zombies, without guns?”

The leader gave me a sly smile. “We may be unarmed now, but that doesn’t mean we plan on staying that way. Bear, what did you find?”

The goateed hulk nodded, looking down at a small tablet computer that all but disappeared in his hand. “I’ve got two hits in the area that might have what we need.”

“Heads up,” one of the others announced, “we’re getting popular.” He motioned up the road to where some of the zombies had stopped to look our way. “Better move, and soon.”

As the bikers mounted up, I grabbed JT’s arm.

“JT…” I swallowed, then forged ahead. “Did you ever find Lil?”

My heart sank when I saw his expression. My throat constricted as I choked back tears I couldn’t afford to shed.

“I’m sorry, Ash,” he said. “Those assholes ambushed me before I had time to even start looking for her.”

I nodded, unable to speak. Who else was I going to lose?

JT put a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. “She might have made it to the zoo.”