After Days (The After Days Trilogy) (20 page)

“No, in fact they have started creeping closer again.” The road swerved to the right and I could see that we were coming up to a long bridge over a stretch of water. “Just on the other side of this bridge you want to turn left, it’ll take us back toward the freeway.”

“That’s a big lake,” I said when the trees to the side thinned out as we approached the bridge. I realized I could only see part of the lake, it stretched out of sight to my left and I could see places where it bent around, forming large coves.

“That’s the Wachusett Reservoir,” Indigo said, “My uncle used to bring me and my cousin fishing here sometimes when we were little.”

There was a sign that proclaimed the bridge prone to icing in the winter, but I ignored it and kept up my speed as we hit it. I could hear the motor bikes again now and the roar of their engines was getting louder. It crossed my mind that they meant to take us while we were crossing the lake. I got my revolver ready and laid it in my lap in case any of them pulled alongside, and saw that Luke was likewise preparing his crossbow for action.

“They’re coming,” Luke said, looking in his mirror. I nodded grimly. The roar of bikes told me that they were getting very close now.

“Oh no!” moaned Indigo, beside me.

Following her stare of horror
I saw in front of us our worst nightmare…a roadblock manned by Chinese soldiers at the end of the bridge.

P
ART 3

E
ND
G
AME

17

Wooden barricades had been placed across the end of the bridge. An armored vehicle, topped by a wicked looking cannon, and four Humvees were parked behind them. Standing at the barricades, watching us come towards them, were at least eight Chinese soldiers and I could see more behind the vehicles. We were trapped between the Tigers and the Chinese army…with no way out..

“You gotta be shitting me,” Luke said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Figures, doesn’t it?” I said, through gritted teeth.

“What are we going to do?” Indigo asked.

“Die probably,” I replied. I could not hide the hint of despairing anger in my voice. “But I’m not stopping; they’ll have to kill us…that’s the only way they’re stopping this truck.”

“This reminds me of that old country song about the convoy,” Luke said.

I had never heard it of course and I wondered how, just seconds from death, Luke could be spouting crap about songs that were written before he was born. Maybe it was a coping mechanism? Mine was anger. I stomped the gas pedal hard into the floor.

“You guys might want to get down as low as possible,” I said. “The engine block should give you some protection.”

I saw the Chinese soldiers in front of us suddenly take notice and begin scrambling to ready thei
r weapons and take cover behind their vehicles.

We were maybe a hundred yards from the barricades when the Tiger’s opened up with sub machine guns and pistols from behind us. I heard a few hit the truck, but most seemed to be missing, probably because shooting and riding a motorbike at the same time isn’t easy. The effect on the Chinese though
,
was amazing; they seemed to think that the Tigers were shooting at them, and responded accordingly.

              The last hundred yards to the barricade took forever to cross. If you'd asked me later I would have sworn that it took the truck at least five minutes, but I know, given how fast I was driving, it had to have happened in no more than a few seconds. It's funny how time can seem so elastic depending on what’s happening.

Indigo had put her hand on my thigh,
I hardly noticed. We all scrunched down, Luke and her below the level of the dashboard, and me with just my eyes and forehead peeking over so that I could see where I was driving.

A few shots hit the windshield, high on the passenger side, and I felt a couple hitting the cargo box where it rose above the cab, but for the most part the Chinese fire seemed to be concentrating on the motorcycles behind us.
If they think we are a Chinese military truck, we might still get out of this.
The hopeful thought shot through my head like a bolt of lightning.

The soldiers manning the barricade were not like the ones that we'd been captured by, they wore simple gray-green trench coats rather than the urban camouflage with padded armor points, and they carried old style rifles. I would later learn that they were conscripts and had no choice about whether they wanted to be in the army or not, and that the Chinese Army was mostly made up of soldiers just like them.

              The armored personnel carrier actually looked like a small tank to me and to my horror, as I examined it, the turret started to turn in our direction. I saw it inching around in slow motion, wondering if we'd make it to the barricades before it fired.

We did, just. We crashed through the makeshift wooden fence and Chinese soldiers leapt out of our way as we careened through. The armored personnel carrier started firing at the motorcycles behind us; I realized that rather than a cannon, the gun on the turret was more like a giant machine gun, and right now it was spitting rapid death
at the Red Tigers on our tail.

The truck bounced into the air as it smashed the ba
rricade and I slammed on the brakes as it came down hard. We started to skid sideways, sweeping up three Chinese soldiers that hadn't jumped out of the way quickly enough. They were crunched between us and the personnel carrier as I passed it with a sideswipe that caused both vehicles to shudder. Bouncing off it, the truck slewed to the left and came to a screeching stop in the intersection, where the road that we wanted to follow veered off the highway we were on. Luke risked a look in the one remaining rear view mirror.

             
“Damn, the Tigers are getting massacred, man,” he said. “We should get the hell out of here while the Chinese are distracted.”

I peeked over my shoulder and out of the window. Luke was right; the Tigers were getting massacred, but not all of them. Well back from the bridge, where the road was still on a slight incline that protected them from the angle of the machine gun’s withering fire, an all too familiar figure straddled his bike. Chen, with the last two of his crew on their bikes either side of him, stood sentinel as they looked down upon the destruction of the Red Tigers.

I knew it was impossible, but I felt like Chen was staring right at me and I shivered. Finally, as the gun began to whir and slowly raise its muzzle towards them, the remaining three Tigers gunned their bikes and spun around, racing from the scene. I finally snapped out of my trance. It was only then that I noticed movement to my left.

             
“I think it might be too late,” I said, glancing out my window.

A group of six Chinese soldiers were approaching
from the rear of the truck on my side, waving their hands and shouting, although their words were lost in the roar of the gunfire going on around us. “Indigo, hand me the rifle behind you,” I said, although I was sorry that her hand would be leaving my thigh.

I slid the revolver back into my parka pocket. Three soldiers, two with rifles and one armed only with a side arm, approached the cab of the truck, while the other three stayed by the back corner. I ducked down as they approached. The pistol armed soldier, I think he might have been an officer of some sort, shouted something in Chinese just outside the driver’s side door. I tensed as the door handle twitched and was yanked open.

              There was a look of surprise on his face when he saw me scrunched down there with the assault rifle aimed straight at him, at least I tell myself there was when I think back, in reality everything happened too fast for me to notice.

At this range I couldn't miss, and my first three rounds went straight through the officer's body and into the soldier behind him, both crumpled to the ground.

The third soldier began to bring his own assault rifle up, when suddenly there was a spitting sound next to my head. The soldier, wearing his own look of surprise, dropped one hand from his rifle and scrabbled in a futile attempt to remove the crossbow arrow that was embedded in his larynx. He dropped to his knees and slowly fell forward, squeezing his trigger as he fell. One bullet pinged into the metal of the dash right by my head, another into the floor, and the last of the three round burst triggered by his death spasm slapped harmlessly into the roadway beneath the cab.              

Reeling, I saw Luke rack another short arrow into the crossbow. I shook my head to clear it, and leaned out of the door to see one of the soldiers by the back of the truck aiming his rifle my way. There were three flashes and the open door jerked behind me. I brought my own rifle around and returned fire. One of the three rounds of my burst found its mark and the soldier fell, grabbing at his thigh. Behind me there was another spitting sound, and I heard a body hit the bitumen heavily. Luke pulled back from his window and yelled, “Go!”

I slammed the driver's side door and tried to restart the truck – it had stalled when I'd skidded to a stop. Despite my sense of impending doom, the truck turned over on the second try, and I slammed my foot down on the gas. We shot down the road that would take us back to the freeway, leaving the firefight behind.

I couldn't hear it but Indigo told me afterward that the gun fire on the bridge had started to die down, so we probably got out of there at just the right time. The truck wobbled just as we were losing sight of the Chinese checkpoint, it felt as if a gust of wind had caught the side of the cargo box, but then we were clear. My head hurt from the roar of the gunfire and constant adrenalin, but I knew the others were feeling it just as much as I was.

             
“We need to stop and check on those in the back,” Indigo yelled over the cold wind howling through the broken windows. I nodded my agreement, but kept my foot planted on the accelerator, “we will, but not yet!” Stopping this close to the checkpoint didn't seem like a good idea.

“We need to do it soon,” she insisted.

I drove another ten minutes at full speed, which didn’t actually seem very fast in the damaged truck. From the road signs I could tell we were getting close to the freeway. I could see the on-ramp in the distance and we neared a boarded up old gas station with a larger garage behind it. I slowed the truck.

“Is there anybody following us?” I asked Luke. He said something I couldn't hear, and shook his head in the negative. I turned into the driveway without further consultation, but I hadn’t slowed enough, and the truck pitched dangerously. For just a brief second I thought it might tip onto its side. Indigo gave a short squeal as she slid hard into Luke, squashing him against the door. Being inexperienced, I braked hard and we were all propelled forward in our seats
as we jolted to a stop.

“Dude! What the hell?!” yelled Luke. “I think I might have to relieve you of driving duties.” 

“Sorry,” I said, looking sheepishly at them.

I put my foot
carefully on the gas again and eased the truck behind the gas station to the garage behind the building. It’s doors were open and it was mostly empty. Driving the truck inside, I stopped and jumped out, motioning Luke to do the same. We ran back and pulled the doors shut, concealing our truck from the road. Turning, I got my first look at the cargo box of the truck, and my stomach lurched.

             
The back door of the truck, remarkably, only had a few holes in it, but the sides were pretty chewed up.
Did the packed food and gear protect them?
I wondered doubtfully to myself.

There was a line of five holes near the back on the driver’s side. They were much larger than the other bullet holes, as were the matching set of exit holes on the passenger side. I thought of when the truck had shuddered just as we were escaping the checkpoint, and my mind flashed to the turret mounted weapon on the personnel carrier.

Luke told me that the weapon it had mounted was most likely a 25 millimeter auto-cannon firing armor piercing rounds, or tank killers. We were very lucky to have made it out of there with the truck intact.

             
Luke and I moved quickly to the back of the truck as Indigo joined us. Luke and I looked at each other; the look on his face told me he that he was feeling just what I was feeling. We were both afraid of what we might find when we opened the door. Luke banged on the back door with his fist.

“Is everybody all right in there?” he called. “I'm going to open it up.”

              There was no response, not that we could hear anyway, and I moved to stand next to him as he pushed up the roller door. The back of the truck was a mess. Supplies had slipped around and now lay strewn across the floor of the cargo box. Our people looked dazed as they struggled to move boxes and  rise off the floor. Everyone I could see was shielding their eyes from the sudden light. Some were moaning and I could see everybody except Karen, John, Mark and Brooke.

The ride must have been Hell on four wheels for those in the back, what with crashing through the barrier and into the armored personnel carrier, not to mention auto-cannon fire ripping through it.

             
“Are you all okay?” I asked, looking around and desperately trying to spot the missing.

             
“Most of us are just a bit bruised and battered,” Sonny said. “I think,” he winced as he shoved a box containing extra bedding off of his legs. Sonny still looked weak but, miraculously, much better than he had been the last time I'd seen him early that morning.

“Where's Brooke?” Ben's voice caused me to glance in his direction. “She was standing right next to me.”

              “Let’s get this stuff moved and look for anybody that is missing,” I said. “Just pile it all to the side of the truck. We can repack it later.” I motioned for Luke to join me and I climbed up into the back of the truck to help people out and try to uncover the missing. Ben stayed inside to help while the others climbed down from the truck.

              Ben found Brooke quickly, her hand had emerged from a pile of debris and she waved quite calmly, leading him to her. She was fine apart from a twisted ankle and sore knee. Relieved, I continued pulling stuff away from the front left corner of the truck and came across another hand. It was a girl’s hand, pale and limp.

As I used my hands to pull away tins and boxes, I saw blood. Lots of it. I knew Karen was dead when I gently revealed her face. Thankfully, her eyes were closed, I felt sure they would have stared at me accusingly if they had been open. There was a large wound in her chest and it was obvious that she had been killed instantly. I finished uncovering her
, tears of rage stinging my eyes and then turned to help Luke – I had to make the living a priority, and it was possible that Mark and John were still alive.