Sometimes We Ran (Book 1) (17 page)

If they have done anything to her, anything at all, they’re going to wish they had killed me in my sleep.

The temperature gauge on the scooter’s dashboard was heading into the red. At this point, I didn’t care about the scooter. I was focused on finding the Highwaymen. The scooter could fly apart under me at this point. All it had to do was carry me to where Claire was, and then it could die or explode for all I care.

I flew past where the sports car had been parked. It was no longer on the road, but the cones and barricades were still there. The Highwaymen were not there waiting for me. To tell you the truth, I expected them to be waiting for me out on the road. It appeared they grabbed Claire and left town. I didn’t know where she was, and the Highwaymen could be miles from here. They also had a few hours’ head start, and could be anywhere. I thought about all the small farms and homes along this road. It would take days or weeks to search them all. Claire would be dead by then.

There was no sign of anyone as I continued down the road. I began to get a bad feeling that I was never going to see Claire alive again. Then, out of nowhere, I saw something that changed everything. It caused me to pull the brake handles so hard that I locked up the wheels of the scooter and skidded to a stop. Parked on the side of the road on a concrete transition to a gravel driveway, was a cheap looking motorcycle. I had found one of the Highwaymen.

I stopped and parked the scooter about twenty-five feet or so away. I tried to obscure my bike and the backpacks in a tangle of kudzu vines and other vegetation on the side of the road. It was a quick job, but from far away the scooter blended into the environment nicely. I hated to leave the backpacks, but I had to go in light. I was going in weapons-only.

I approached the driveway carefully with my head on a swivel. It could still be a trap designed to lure in unsuspecting travelers. I got to the motorcycle, crouched down beside it to hide, and took a look around. A few hundred yards away, one of the Highwaymen was sitting against a large oak tree, taking a nap. It was the one they called Dick, and he appeared to be alone.

I quietly covered the distance and approached Dick while he slept. He was sleeping deeply, and his snoring sounded like a chainsaw with a clogged muffler. There was a bottle of clear liquid at his side. I assumed it was some kind of alcoholic drink. It’s probably why he was so deep in dreamland. I drew my gun and prepared to interrogate.

I pointed the gun at his face and gave him a swift kick in the leg. “Get up, Dick!” I said sharply.

Dick opened his eyes and bolted awake when he saw my gun pointed at him. “Holy shit. How the hell did you find us?”

“You left your motorcycle in plain sight, numb nuts. Get up!” My rage was returning.

Dick got slowly to his feet. He didn’t seem to be taking this very seriously. “Dude, it’s probably too late to save her. No doubt Rich and the guys have used her up by now,” he said, finally getting to his feet.

It took everything in my power not to put a bullet in his smarmy, grinning face. “Humor me, Dick. Where did you guys take her?”

“I ain’t telling you anything, old man. You can kiss my ass.”

Wrong answer, Dick.

I grabbed him by his scrawny neck and jammed him into the tree. I put my gun to his forehead, and looked into his eyes. Now I saw some fear.

“I’m going to ask you again, Dick,” I said slowly. “Where did you guys take her?”

Dick looked me in the eyes and realized I was not fooling around. Little droplets of sweat began to break out on his forehead. “Okay, man. I’ll tell you where she is. I want you to know it was not my idea. I don’t like the kidnapping stuff. I’m just the lookout.”

I was losing my patience. “Bullshit. Tell me where she is, or you’re dead.”

Tears welled up in Dick’s eyes. “Okay, take it easy. There’s a small house at the end of this driveway. That’s where we took her.”

I pulled my gun out of Dick’s forehead and grabbed him by the collar. “Okay, Dick, lead me down there. Don’t you dare try to warn your buddies.”

We walked down the driveway towards the house. I had Dick by the collar with my gun jammed into the back of his head. He had actually been very obedient. He hadn’t tried any funny business, and had stayed relatively quiet. A gun in the back of the head will do that.

We reached the end of the gravel driveway and entered a small front yard full of assorted junk. Dick stopped and pointed to a small gray house. “She’s in there,” he said.

It was time to take care of Dick. “Okay. Thanks for your cooperation. Good night,” I said.

“Huh?” He gave me a puzzled look.

I hit him in the head with my gun to knock him out. It actually worked. Dick went down in a heap, but he was still breathing. I didn’t even know if it was possible to knock people out that way, since I had only seen it in movies. I dragged his limp body over to some tall weeds to hide him from his buddies.

I turned my attention to the house and yard. The house was a small gray structure situated in a grove of trees. A wooden porch hung off the front. There was also a dog pen made out of chain-link fence in the side yard. I couldn’t tell if there were any dogs in the pen or not. I could hear a generator grinding away in the backyard. That explained the light coming from all the windows. I could also smell and see smoke coming from the brick chimney.

The yard was a treasure trove of stolen goods. There were cars, household appliances, furniture, and other assorted stolen booty all over the place. Rich hadn’t been lying about his cars. Four exotic automobiles from various countries of origin, including the previously-seen red one, were parked neatly on a concrete pad in front of the house.

A shot rang out from the backyard. I dived behind one of the expensive cars and drew my gun. After a few minutes, another shot echoed from behind the house followed by laughter and yelling. One of the idiots was shooting off a gun in the backyard. It sounded a little like Claire’s revolver. I carefully walked around to the side of the house near the dog pen, and took a look into the back yard.

Rich, the leader of the Highwaymen, was standing on a small concrete porch, shooting at some cans in the yard. He wasn’t having much success. All of the cans stood unharmed. I took a closer look as Rich extended his arm to take a shot. It was definitely Claire’s little revolver. The afternoon sun glinted off its silver-plated body. As I stood there trying to fabricate a plan, I heard a low growl come from behind me. I turned around slowly.

The dog pen was full of zombies.

The Highwaymen had captured four Yellow-Eye zombies, and put them in a cage. At the back of the pen, an evil-looking Red-Eye female cowered in the corner. My scent had aroused them, and now they were starting to make noise and push on the walls of their chain-link prison. I had to get out of there before they alerted the three knuckleknobs to my position.

“Shut up over there,” I heard Rich yell in my direction. “I swear to God, Joey, those goddamn zombies are more trouble than they’re worth.”

He went back to shooting guns. Rich switched from Claire’s stolen revolver to my semi-automatic rifle. He shot off a few rounds of very-hard-to-find ammunition trying to hit cans. Again, the cans resisted his spray of bullets.

I walked away and stepped onto the small wooden porch to check out the house. I kneeled down on the floor, and looked in one of the windows. It looked into a fully lit living room with all kinds of stolen guns and ammunition piled on the floor. About a dozen baseball bats were propped up against one of the walls. A small sofa and a recliner completed the furnishings in the hideout.

Claire was sitting on the sofa. The bastards had tied her hands and feet together. She looked scared, but unharmed. She managed to see me in the window, and her eyes went wide. I put my finger to my lips to tell her to be quiet. She nodded that she understood. I caught a glimpse of the two remaining Highwaymen, Joey and the one they called Toast, playing cards on a small kitchen table. Joey angrily threw a card into the discard pile, and Toast picked it up. Once in a while, they would look up from their cards to hurl a choice insult at Rich.

I tried the front door, but it was locked tight. I could use my shotgun as a key and blow the door open, but I knew that would definitely alert the Highwaymen to my presence. If I had my rifle, I could whip around the house and take them out one by one. My rifle was currently being used in the backyard for shooting at harmless innocent cans, so that wasn’t an option. What I needed was a diversion. Something to get the Highwaymen out of the house and busy so that Claire and I could run away. My thoughts turned to the five zombies in the dog pen. I could set them free and use their escape as cover to spring Claire. Besides, what’s a better diversion than a five-pack of zombies? At the time, it seemed like a good plan. After all, what could go wrong with setting a few hungry undead monsters free?

I hurried to the dog pen to put my risky plan into action. The zombies had all retreated to the other side of the pen and were shuffling around in the corners. There was no lock: only a length of cord secured the gate. I cut the cord with my knife and pulled the gate towards me, using it like a shield. The zombies came to the opening and tried to reach me through the gate. Since they couldn’t get to me behind my shield, they soon lost interest and went towards the sound of the gunfire in the back-yard. I waited until the last walking corpse disappeared behind the house, then I sprinted back to the front door to fetch Claire. The back-yard erupted into a symphony of yelling, gunshots, and zombie howls. It sounded like a full-blown battle going on back there. The Highwaymen had their hands full.

At the front door, I pulled my shotgun and fired a shot at the lock. The blast blew a hole in the wooden door about the size of a softball. To finish the job, I kicked the door with as much force as I could muster. The two-pronged attack was too much for the old door, and it opened easily. Claire was trying to stand up. I cut her bonds with my knife and pulled her to her feet.

She threw her arms around me in a celebratory hug. “John! Thank God. They made me go with them. After you went back to sleep last night, I heard a noise outside the store. I took your rifle and went to check it out. That’s when they grabbed me. They said they were going to kill you if I didn’t go with them.”

“Are you all right? Did they hurt you?” I asked, looking her over.

“No. I’m okay.” Claire was lying. Her left eye was slightly swollen, and there was a red mark on her cheek. The Highwaymen had roughed her up. I felt new rage flash in my gut. They had also smeared lipstick and makeup on her face. “They didn’t get a chance to rape me. They argued over who was going to go first, then they lost interest,” Claire said, wiping off the hastily applied cosmetics.

I turned to the door. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Wait. I want my bat back.” Claire ran over to the selection of baseball bats leaning against the wall. She found her little aluminum friend, and turned back towards me. “Now we can go.”

We started to exit the little house, but suddenly one of the Highwaymen blocked the door. It was Joey, Richard’s brother. He was covered in zombie blood, and holding a sawed off shotgun. We pointed our weapons at each other.

“You? How the hell did you find us? Actually, it doesn’t matter. We’re done with both of you.” He raised the shotgun to finish us off.

Before he could pull the trigger, the female Red-Eye came up behind him, jumped on his back, and sank her teeth into his neck. Joey let out a bloodcurdling scream, and fell into the living room. Claire and I stepped back as Joey and the zombie fell to the floor. Joey got up, fighting the Red-Eye, but was pulled back onto the sofa. He let out another scream as the zombie took another bite.

The Red-Eye raised her blood-covered face from Joey’s neck and caught a glimpse of me standing in front of the sofa. She let out a horrible growl and leaped towards me. I pulled the trigger on my shotgun and caught her in the chest. She fell backward on the sofa, but she wasn’t dead. I shot her again and blew her brains out. Now she was dead.

It appeared Joey was dead as well. He was still breathing, but he was doomed. The Red-Eye had ripped a good portion of flesh out his neck, and he was bleeding out all over the sofa. With most of his windpipe gone, he was reduced to making high-pitched wheezing noises through his ruined throat. His eyes had already started to cloud over.

Joey was turning.

Claire and I stared at the horror unfolding on the sofa. Joey’s breathing was becoming more labored, and the sounds out of his mouth were becoming more zombie-like. We stood there frozen in fear, unable to move. I had seen people turn before, and it’s not a pretty sight. Usually, it involves fever, convulsions, and labored breathing for hours before the victim reanimates. When all this undead stuff started, most people didn’t know what was happening, so they let the process go to completion. I bet millions of people suffered for hours changing into something horrible before they were released by a bullet to the head.

Joey was different. He was turning right before our very eyes. There was no fever or sickness. I estimated that poor Joey was going to be a fresh new zombie in about five minutes or so. I didn’t think I even had time to decide to put him out of his misery. Claire and I had to go.

I snapped myself out of my stupor, grabbed Claire, and headed for the door. Joey’s cries of pain were quickly becoming zombie-like growls. His eyes had already begun to look a little red. Claire and I hit the porch and the cool air of the fall afternoon. We got down the stairs, with Claire in front, and me facing to the rear to make sure the zombie-formerly-known-as-Joey didn’t come flying out of the house after us. As soon as we hit the ground, we started running. I was still looking at the house to protect our rear flank.

Suddenly, Claire stopped short. I turned around to see Richard and the one they called Toast blocking our escape. Richard had a blood-covered machete in his hand, and Toast had Claire’s revolver. I raised my shotgun, and Claire got her bat ready. The four of us stood there for a few seconds waiting for the Battle at the End of the World to begin. Based on all the weapons present, it was going to be a doozy.