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Authors: S. P. Blackmore

Death and Biker Gangs (26 page)

BOOK: Death and Biker Gangs
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“Actually, can we make a detour down—” I had to wait for the name of the street behind our safe house to come to me, “—Smyrna Street? I left some friends over there.”

“The ones having some kind of firefight with those brigands?”

Uh-oh.
 I guess it was too much to hope that the unfortunate biker/zombie situation had miraculously cleared up on its own. “I…we might have killed one of their leaders.”

“Really?” Vijay asked. “Which one? Mal? Blair?”

“Blair,” I said. “At least, I figure he’s dead. He was in pretty bad shape last time I saw him.” I held my hands in front of the heater, and my aching knuckles slowly loosened up. I was still sweating like nobody’s business, but there was nothing to be done about that. “You, uh, know them?”

“Only by reputation. Don’t like what I’ve heard about him and that whackjob Arthur. Not sure I want to wade into all of that.”

No. I can’t leave the guys. 
“Then can you drop me off nearby?” Dammit, I’d really just said that. 
Stop being stupid, Vibeke.

Gloria side-eyed me the way I usually side-eyed Tony. I could almost see the wheels turning in her head. 
C’mon, Gloria, you saved my ass, you can’t just say no…

Of course she could. Common decency went right out the window when the world ended. She didn’t know me, probably couldn’t care less about my friends, and why the hell should she risk her own life for a bunch of strangers?

“You want us to wade into that mess over there?” Vijay said, clearly thinking along the same wavelength.

“My friends are trapped over there,” I said quietly. “They got me out of a tight spot yesterday. I can’t leave them.”

Gloria turned down another street and pushed down on the gas, sending the van tearing forward through what must have been a recently cleared street. She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel and hummed softly to herself. “I guess there’s no harm in taking a look.”

Vijay slouched down, and I spotted a video camera nestled behind his feet. He must have been her cameraman before all this happened. “Curse your infernal good nature.” 

SIXTEEN

“So tell me, Treehouse,” Vijay said, patiently reloading his gun, “are your friends hiding up trees, too?”

His snide smile told me I was never going to live that one down. “No, they’re holed up in a house on Smyrna. Well…one of them is. The other’s trying to get back to him. Last time I checked, they had the revenants and that angry biker gang on them.”

Gloria kept scanning the road ahead, and checked her mirrors every other second. “Do you know which brigands are on you?”

“Well, we really pissed off Blair’s gang, so it might be them. Or their friends. Do they have friends?” I shivered in spite of the heat.

Gloria responded by turning down the heater. “Sorry about that. The heat’s probably tripping out your system if you’re not used to it anymore. If you wiped out Blair’s group, it might be Arthur looking for retribution. They were friends, or allies, or some shit like that.”

Retribution? 
I stared numbly through the windshield. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”

“Me either,” Vijay said. “I figured things would go all 
Mad Max
, but I thought we’d have a grace period.”

You and me both, Vijay. 
“Who’s Arthur?”

Gloria shrugged. “Not sure. Near as I can figure, Blair was just a thug that managed to scare some of the hooligans out here into obeying him. Arthur came along and started using brainpower or something. Then there’s Mal, but he’s kind of a shadowy figure. Not sure if he’s real or not.” Gloria pulled back onto the road, goosing us down an unfamiliar route. “Tempura Sal and Eggbeater were watching Blair for awhile, and I was condensing their reports. They both wound up dead, so I took a hint.”  

“I hope that fucker Blair 
is 
dead,” Vijay said. “He was no good.”

You can say that again. 
“I don’t get this. How are they finding all this time to start gangs, take over places, and terrorize people? Aren’t they trying to…I don’t know, 
survive?

Vijay leaned forward to turn down the heater a smidge. “Strength in numbers, Treehouse. Eh, I’m sure Arthur will wind up in charge. Assholes don’t go down that easily, and Blair was building up some kind of army.”

“Between us, his 
army 
got a little fried by radiation exposure, or whatever came down with the meteors.” Gloria turned us down another street. “From the shit I was hearing, they don’t seem all there.”

Well, 

could have told them that. “They definitely got fried by something,” I said. “Blair and some of his pals had radiation burns.”

Vijay nodded. “He and Arthur joined forces awhile back, when Hammond ejected Arthur’s gang from Elderwood. Then there’s Malachi to worry about, but—”


Malachi?
” The warning alarm in my brain kicked back on, and I sat up straight, almost knocking my rifle into Vijay’s ribs. “Is that Mal’s full name?”

“Believe so,” Gloria said. “I knew it was something Biblical and ridiculous.”

“Tall, blond, pissy-looking?”

Gloria glanced at me, then returned her attention to the road. “I haven’t seen the man in the flesh. Why?”

Because I bashed his head in with an antique revolver and left him for dead?
 I decided not to share that information yet, instead saying, “We might have had a run-in with him, back before all this got so bad. Right after the dead got up, really.” I recalled visiting the ammunition store and watching the undead proprietor and his son enjoying a mid-afternoon snack, but try as I might, I couldn’t pinpoint a date. Everything hazed together into one gruesome, post-apocalyptic zombie hellhole. “Must have been a few weeks ago…”

“We’ll figure it out later.” Gloria braked, put the van into park, and pointed out the windshield. “Were these guys here before?”

Damn, she’d steered us right back to Smyrna, where Dax and I had discussed smart zombies and what to do next. It didn’t look quite as peaceful as I’d left it. Several figures were out in the street, staggering this way and that. None of them seemed to have noticed us…yet.

“Oh, hell.” Vijay reached across me, grabbing Gloria’s arm. “Gloria, don’t do anything dumb. There’s a 
lot 
of them.”

“Oh.” I wanted to slouch down in my chair. “Those revenants do congregate.”

“Revenants?” Gloria glanced at me. “Did they ever manage to make that term stick?”

“I worked in a military camp,” I said. “Our commanding officer said 
zombie 
reminded him of barhopping.”

“What camp?” Gloria asked. “Sorry, was I supposed to ask that earlier? My etiquette’s all messed up. Nice to meet you.”

“Elderwood. We’re supposed to go to Hastings to ask Captain Durkee for help.” I paused when they both turned to stare at me. Did I have something in my teeth? “Um, nice to meet you, too.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” Gloria asked. “Is Elderwood all right? We haven’t heard them broadcasting at all.”

That was the million-dollar question, and I had no idea how to answer it. “There was an attack. Brigands, the undead, everything. The place fell apart. Three of us are trying to get to Hastings to send help.” I made myself stop after that. No need to get even deeper into the unfortunate news.

Gloria nodded. “Well, let’s get your buddies out of there and—”

“Wait.” Vijay rapped his gun against the floor. “We can’t just dive into this. We need a plan!”

“We don’t have the luxury of planning.” Gloria shifted the van back into drive. “Besides, if Elderwood’s hanging in there, that’s a lot of people that need help. Hang on, kids.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

“Improvise.” She stomped on the gas.

The van’s wheels squealed against the pavement and we hurtled toward the group of ghouls. “You’re fucking crazy!” Vijay yelped, bracing his feet up against the dash. I clung to my rifle, ready to bail if I needed to. Gloria kept the pedal to the metal, barreling closer to the figures.

The mini-horde swung toward us and lifted their arms.

“Out of my way, soulless abominations!” Gloria yelled, slamming her hand against the horn.

The van jolted when we hit the first ghoul; seconds later, another went flying. Gloria twisted the wheel and hit the brakes, and we fishtailed wildly to the side. My stomach lurched, and Vijay’s string of obscenities reached Tony levels of epic.

We came to an ungainly halt in front of the neighboring house, and Gloria leaned on the horn. “Go get your buddies. I’ll just be running these bitches over.”  

“I’ll cover us out here,” Vijay said. He reached under the seat and pulled out a rifle to go with his shotgun. I sat there marveling at his preparedness while he flung open the door and jumped out.

I turned to Gloria, intending to thank her, but all that came out was, “You know, I remember when you were interviewing Brad Pitt and you got so nervous you dropped your microphone.”

The ghost of a smile crept across her face. “I hope he’s still alive. That man’s too fine to be undead.”

“Hey, Treehouse, let’s move!”

Here goes nothing. 
I jumped back out into the frigid air of the wasted earth, shoved the rifle into the face of the nearest ghoul, and blew its skull apart. Vijay was already halfway around the van, shotgun primed and ready. “Get your pals, Treehouse.”

That was either going to become an endearing nickname or drive me crazy really fast.

Gloria tapped the horn, momentarily distracting the other zombies. I booked it up the driveway and through two backyards to our hideout, and found the back door hanging open.

Gray, wizened fingers reached for my shoulders. I shifted my grip on the rifle again and clobbered the dead guy until he stopped moving. I took a second to catch my breath, then barreled up the back steps and toward the door.

The club soared out of nowhere and nailed me right in the gut, driving the air out of my lungs and sending everything in my midsection hurtling against my spine. I sagged to the side as my knees gave out, the rifle falling out of my suddenly boneless fingers. Air moved, and a second blow hammered against my back, sending me sprawling against the dusty linoleum flooring.

Air. Air. Air. 
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. My stomach twisted and thumped, and my lungs seemed to have abruptly gone on strike. 
Broken, I’m broken, did he shoot me? I didn't hear gunshots. 
Some logical part of me tried to assess damage, but it rapidly clouded over, driven into panic with the rest of my body. 
He didn’t hit my solar plexus. Lungs should work. Work, damn you!

I sensed someone looming over me and squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for another strike. This one would probably be my head.


Stop it!
” Dax sounded distraught.

 “I didn’t say 
clobber her
,” a man snapped. Footsteps came toward me, clacking across the linoleum. A hand grabbed my hair, jerking my head off the floor. “She breathing?”

I managed to drag in a wheezing gasp.

“See, she’s fine,” a second man said.

The man let go of my head. I pulled in more air, gingerly unfolding myself, then stopping when the very motion brought tears to my eyes. Hot pokers jabbed up and down along my spine, and my stomach twisted and clenched, trying in vain to make me vomit up nothing at all. I dry-heaved, thumping against the floor like a hooked fish.

You never forget your first sucker-punch.

I forced my eyes open. Everything blurred together, but several figures hovered around me, and I heard the faint barking of the dog.

“Just breathe through it,” Tony called to me. “Don’t pass out.”

“Dude, you are 
not 
helping,” Dax said. They sounded like they were in the same general vicinity, though I couldn’t see them yet.

“Sorry about that,” the first voice said. Boots passed in front of me. “Hamstring gets a little excited at times, doesn’t he?”

“F…fu…” Damn, I couldn’t even curse at him. 
Hamstring? What the fuck kind of name is Hamstring? 
I shut my eyes again. My hearing was steadily improving, and something kept scraping along the deck outside. The dog alternately snarled and whimpered from not too far away. Maybe she was stuck in a corner somewhere?

Thump. Thump. 
A steady, rapid pounding issued from the front of the house, as though a tree was banging against the door…or dozens of reanimated bodies had realized that yes, there really 
were 
people in here, and boy, did we sound tasty.

I opened my eyes.

BOOK: Death and Biker Gangs
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