Post-Apocalyptic Nomadic Warriors (24 page)

Here the surface of the road was exposed; he could get solid traction and build some momentum.

But there was no time. The mob of living plants surrounded them. The creatures amassed on all sides of the home and began to rock the coach.

Alex fired another shotgun dry. Erica handed him a fresh one.

Jerry drew the .45s and emptied a clip from each, picking off a creature with each shot.

“Do something!” Erica screamed.

He risked a glance to the back of the cab. Erica’s fingers bled. He couldn’t tell if she had been hit or worn the flesh from her hands feeding shells into shotguns.

Trent had grabbed a weapon of his own and was firing at the creatures as they began to shatter the windows. Chewy barked ferociously and snapped at any vines that made their way into the interior. She snatched one in her teeth and thrashed her head until the vine detached from its host.

Jerry emptied another clip and grabbed for the iPod. He held the button until it chimed ready for a voice command. He yelled into the device, but it didn’t register over the growing peel of shrieks.

He tried again, this time cupping his hand to block out everything but his voice.

“Play sequence, Ring of Fire!”

A chime rang through the coach’s surround system and the device’s voice replayed the command.

“Playing songs by The Muppets.”

“What? No! No!” He mashed the button harder to reset the voice prompt as
Mahna, Mahna
began to play.

The song filled the cabin as the Silver Lining shook violently. Cracks began to appear in the shell. Curtain rods crashed down. Kitchen drawers rattled open and spilled their contents onto the floor.
 

The iPod chimed again and Jerry spoke the command once more, “Play sequence, Ring of Fire.”

Responding with a positive beep, the iPod displayed a picture of the legendary singer and Johnny Cash came over the stereo speakers. External speakers popped to life and the trumpets began to play. Soon, the Man-in-Black’s voice boomed under the metal roof of the Farmer’s Market.

“This isn’t helping!” Erica began to cry. Her reloads were slowing.

“Wait for it.” Jerry fired several more rounds through the windshield.

The chorus quickly approached.

“Everyone get away from the windows. Don’t touch the walls.” He dove to the back, dragging Alex with him.

The chorus erupted over the speakers.

On the exterior of the coach, spring loaded nozzles revealed themselves, each extending exactly twenty-eight degrees. Propane shot through pipes from the rear mounted tanks and hissed as it primed the system.

With a tremendous whoosh, the gas ignited. The nozzles spewed flames in a cyclone of fire around the Silver Lining as Johnny Cash went down, down, down.

The shrieks changed from blood lust to pain as the creatures ignited and burned. The odor of charred flesh and burning cedar filled the air as the fire spread throughout the mob of creatures.

The flamethrower went cold, but the Man-in-Black kept singing.

Jerry slapped Alex on the back. “Get back on the window.”

Alex leapt back in the passenger seat and shoved away two burning creatures that had chosen the hood of the coach to perform their death throws.

Jerry jumped back behind the wheel.

The majority of the burning creatures fled in no particular direction. Any that had escaped the burn off watched the coach cautiously. Their shrieking stopped and the streets of Dallas were quiet.
 

The song reached its second chorus.

The remaining creatures scattered.

Johnny Cash continued to fill the former Farmer’s Market. With the mob having dissipated, the overwhelming volume of the song became apparent.

Erica smiled. The boys darted about the cabin, peering out each window.

“They’re all gone,” Trent moved from window to window, not quite understanding what had happened.

“What’s with the music?” Erica screamed to be heard. “What did you do?”

Jerry smiled. “Learned behavior. They won’t come near us again during the chorus.” Jerry fumbled for the iPod and stopped the music.

That’s when they heard it.

“Librarian.” The voice was low, raspy. “Librarian.” It was weak. “Is that you, Librarian?” It sounded like a helpless old man calling for help, and it terrified him more than anything else on the planet.

TWENTY-EIGHT

A dull thud answered back as he kicked each of the new tires. Two were almost bald and one had been patched, but each now held air and supported the rig and its many trailers.

Satisfied with the “they’ll do for now” explanation he had received from the engineer, the major ordered to have it noted that armored tires should be a priority project once the men returned to Alasis. The man who had fired on them had been a remarkable marksman, but others in the waste could get lucky. The search for spares had cost them a day. And each day meant that rations and supplies dwindled.

It was noted and the engineer stepped back to his post in the command center.

The major gave the tire one more swift kick and looked up at the wall of the trailer. The eyes of a child caught his. The girl was young—young enough to outgrow the memory of the horrors of what he and his men had done to the town of Vita Nova.

Years ago, the look on her face, like someone had pissed on her pony, would have stirred pangs of guilt. Years ago, there was no way he would have been able to raze a town or incarcerate innocent women and children. But, times had changed. He was not the man he was years ago.

He smiled at the little girl who only stared back at him. “What’s your name, little girl?”

The girl didn’t make a sound. She just stared at him with big eyes of innocence. He could feel the gaze pass his eye and peer deep inside him. There was a discomfort that he welcomed. Guilt had resurfaced. It was a terrifying and invigorating feeling. It quickly overcame him and he began to plead with the girl.

“I’m doing this for your own good, sweetheart. The world is too dangerous. I’m taking you to a safer place.”

Brown eyes stared back.

The major grabbed the slat and pulled himself to the little girl’s level. “Can’t you see that?”

The little girl, as cute as she was obnoxious, sighed and spoke, “I can see fine. You’re the one with only one eye.”

The guilt ebbed and disappeared. He reached through the slats and tried to grab the little girl. She easily ducked the awkward grasp and backed away from his reach.

“Get back here, you little brat. I’ll slap some respect into you.”

A women’s face appeared before him. Throwing herself between the major and the little girl, she fumed at the one-eyed monster. “Don’t you talk to her like that, you bastard.”

The major grabbed the woman by her hair and pulled her face into the grated wall so it was close to his.

“Don’t you talk like that. This will be the last time I show compassion.” He pushed her back from the wall just far enough to slap her across the face. The woman shrieked and fell back. The brown-eyed little girl rushed to her and put her arms around her.

He smiled at her again, but bared his teeth this time.

“I hope someone kills you good,” said the little girl.

The major laughed and walked back to the cab. He climbed inside and moments later the rig belched a fury of black exhaust. The chassis rumbled on the frame as the monstrous truck was forced into gear. Chains rattled as the four trailers joined the forward surge down the road to New Hope.

TWENTY-NINE

There was a rustling about the motor coach. It was still outside. The creatures that weren’t burning had fled. The raspy voiced continued.

“You always did like that song, Librarian. You played it constantly, safe inside your little hole.”

The voice seemed to come from all around them. Erica and the boys looked to Jerry. He wasn’t moving.

“Jerry? Jerry?” Erica shook his shoulder. He remained still.

The older boys saw this and clutched their weapons tight. Peering out the windows, they tried to spot the unseen enemy. They saw nothing.

“And the louder I pounded on the door, the louder you would play your tunes, Librarian.”

Austin crouched on the floor and felt secure in his bear suit.

There was a violent rustling. The coach shook as vines quickly entangled the vehicle like tentacles, rushing across the windows as the structure of the vehicle creaked. Light faded in the cabin as the vines fully encompassed the coach.
 

“Jerry?”

There was no reaction.

The movement of the vines continued. They were quick. Each moved so fast that detail was indistinguishable. Erica spun, looking from window to window for any indication of what was attacking them. She saw it.

Its face dragged across a window of the Silver Lining. The skin was thick and brown as if grown of bark. The eyes were not lifeless like the other creatures; these eyes were sharp and darted back and forth scanning the interior looking for his prey.
 

The voice spoke again, “Ah, it is you, Librarian. I never thought I’d see you again. We have so much catching up to do. Why don’t you come out?”

Chewy bristled and began to bark.

“And your little dog too. I’ve really missed him since that day.”

This jarred Jerry from his frozen state.

“We have nothing to talk about. We’re just passing through.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, Librarian. This is my city. You saw to that. Didn’t you?”

“You know that wasn’t my choice. The door was time locked.”

The volume of the voice rose, but it still sounded faint, like a fierce burst of wind through a tree with only so many leaves to rustle, “Liar!”

The motor coach rocked up on two wheels. It slammed back to the ground. The occupants were thrown off balance and each grasped for support.

“You locked me out. You made me this. You took my humanity!”

“There was nothing I could do,” Jerry pleaded. “I would have saved you if I could.”

“You can’t save anybody, Librarian.”

The window above the sofa shattered. Vines poured into the cabin. The thick roots moved like snakes and encircled Erica around the waist. She screamed as the vines ripped her from the vehicle.

Jerry roared; rage filled his scream. He sprung from his seat and rushed to the rear door. It wouldn’t open. He threw his weight against it. It didn’t give. Vines held it shut.

Frantic, he tore open a closet door. He grabbed a machete that lay on the floor and rushed back to the front of the motor home. He snatched the shotgun from Alex’s hand, crashed shoulder first through the windshield, and rolled into the street.