Total Apoc Trilogy (Book 3): Horde Ravaged (17 page)

            "True. So, how do we kill them?"

            "Are you crazy?"

            I graced her with a crooked smile.

            "Sorry. Dumb question," she said with a sigh. "We can't fight them. There are too many."

            They did have a 25-1 advantage, not even taking into account their superiority in firepower, but we could also use guerilla tactics on them. Our ATVs gave us enormous hit and run potential. We'd have to take out their ATVs to keep them from giving effective chase. Harley-Davidson motorcycles were no match for a pair of ATVs cross country.

            "Molotov Cocktails to the ATVs and pickups would devastate their fighting strength," I said. "Then we take out their prized possessions, the camper and treasure trucks."

            I counted four ATVs left, three pickups. One pickup had a .50 Cal mounted in the bed, while the other two had M60s. We understood the firepower of those armed vehicles. I doubted Indian Village had anything to compare. The .50 Cal especially could rip a town apart and its range was mind-boggling.

            She gnawed on her lip while watching the line of trucks and motorcycles vanish into a wooded stretch of road. Olivia gave me a curious look.

            "Are you looking for revenge?" she asked. "Or do you want to cripple them before they reach Indian Village?"

            "Both."

            "Well, we only have one grenade left," she said. "And nothing to make Molotov Cocktails with. What do you intend to attack them with? We don't have a single fully automatic weapon, and they have quite a few."

            I hated that I lost the M16A1. The three-shot wonders we had seemed so inadequate when facing such firepower. I didn't want to waste our last 40mm grenade, either.

            "We have to figure out something fast," I replied. "At the speed they are going, I think they'll reach Indian Village late this afternoon."

            Indian Village wasn't far from Plano by car at highway speed. For some reason the road warriors were cruising very slowly. I didn't know if it was to conserve gas or because they were looking for victims. Our speed was limited by moving cross country to avoid ambushes. And also because they were on that road and faster than us.

            "I hate to say it, but we might have to wait for them to reach Indian Village," Olivia said. "I cannot image the town isn't well defended."

            "Yes, and they did go there because it's more defensible," I said. "What are you thinking? Hit them with the grenade once they set up camp?"

            "They might gather together to discuss tactics or eat dinner," she said. "A well-placed grenade should kill or wound quite a few of them."

            "We could setup an ambush and snipe them," I said. "At least take out the ATVs with shots to their gas tanks."

            "Sniping implies long distance shots. Neither one of us is that good of a shot."

            I liked to think I was that good of a shot, but she was right. They'd probably overrun us with a counterattack. Getting ourselves killed wouldn't help anyone.

            "Okay, we let them reach Indian Village and setup camp before we attack," I said. "In the meantime, let's find a gas station and make some Molotov Cocktails. If we can get one into the truck with the gas it will be epic."

            "I know, even I get a little excited thinking about it," she said, a vicious look spreading across her face. "I want to hurt them worse than anyone else."

            They were going to pay dearly for killing Ralph. Vengeance would be ours.

            We continued to follow the treeline. It took us well north of the others, and away from Indian Village. The hilltop town was at a crossroads with a state highway. There would be other towns and gas stations on that highway. We could find what we needed.

            "What highway is this?" Olivia asked when we reached it.

            "State Highway 40 I think." I pointed to a sign a few hundred yards away. "It says Indian Village is 200 miles."

            "That far? I thought it'd be closer by now."

            "I know what you mean. It's frustrating to always go so slowly," I replied. "But hopefully, if all goes well, we'll be safe with our families by tomorrow."

            "Yeah, but we're like four or five hours away."

            Circumstances were pushing us farther away with each passing hour. I couldn't think about it or I'd get stressed out.

            "Go north," I said. "The road warriors are probably going to hit this highway ten or fifteen miles south of here."

            So north up SH 40 we went. Then next town wasn't too far. Buffalo Heights was a tiny town just to the west of the highway. SH 40 passed over the county road bisecting the town. We stopped atop the overpass to look the town over, mostly looking for any signs of zombies. It looked completely deserted. There was one four-way stop, and no traffic light in town. I spotted a convenience store with gas pumps, a mom and pop café, and a few homes. It made Plano look like the big city. There was a general store with the windows all smashed out. We checked it out anyway.

            "A-ha!" Olivia cried shortly after entering. "Two cans of kerosene!"

            "Perfect," I said. "See if there are any bottles we can use."

            My first choice was soda bottles, but they were all plastic. I'd never heard of anyone making Molotov Cocktails with plastic bottles. I figured they'd work, but I really wanted glass. I knew glass worked. Finding an appropriate bottle with thin enough glass was the issue.

            We found what we needed in the liquor store. Most of the shelves were emptied, but the place was looted in a rush. A large portion of the store's product was knocked to the floor. Most were plastic bottles, but we found twenty intact glass whiskey bottles.

            "I like them," Olivia said. "Their shape is perfect. I can hold the long neck top like a handle."

            "Like a German hand grenade."

            "If you say so."

            After emptying the bourbon, vodka, and scotch, we filled them with gas siphoned out of an abandoned car in the parking lot. We tore up pieces of cloth to be wicks. Olivia stashed ten of them around her ATV and I did the same. Each of us took a can of kerosene for the wicks.

            "Those miserable bastards won't know what hit them," I said.

            "Does it bother you that we look forward to killing people?"

            "Well, when you put it that way," I said. "Don't put it that way. We're going to help defend our families from known homicidal murderers."

            She nodded, but didn't look a hundred percent convinced. I think I loved her even more for it.

            "It'll be fine," I said, giving her hand a squeeze. "We better hit the road. It'll be dark by the time we reach Indian Village."

            Firing up the ATVs, we kept it slow and drove back up atop the overpass and paused. The road to the south was open. Not a soul to be seen. Then I glanced to the north, behind us.

            "Holy shit," I muttered. "That's the biggest horde I've seen since Emory."

            "Oh my god, they are coming straight at us," she said. Olivia turned to the south. "Straight toward Indian Village."

Chapter 22

            "I think they all watched the same movies," I said.

            "Mad Max or cowboy and Indians?" Olivia asked.

            "Both."

            We were parked just inside the treeline atop the hill where State Highway 40 exited woodlands. From that spot we looked out across the wide, flat valley. There were very few trees before us, and those mostly along fence lines and within the city limits of Indian Village. Our elevation was about the same as the highest point in the besieged town. The biker road warriors were there, as expected, laying siege to the town where we suspected our families now resided.

            "Seriously, all of that driving around and around the town shooting only wastes ammo and puts them in danger," I said. "Is the entire world trying to commit suicide?"

            Indian Village was better prepared than I anticipated. They'd bulldozed a trench, or moat, completely around the base of the hill. The creek fed it, so it was full of water. How deep, I didn't know. It didn't have to be very deep to repel dumbass zombies, but other survivors wouldn't be deterred from wading.

            Behind the moat was an earthen berm, also bulldozed up. It was hard to judge height at that distance, but I noticed numerous shallow cuts evenly spaced along its length. Just deep enough for a man to shoot through without exposing himself too much.

            It was twilight, that time between sunset and full darkness. We could see them pretty well, but also the nuzzle flashes from the villagers could be seen in those gun positions. After ten minutes of watching that nightmarish scene, I hadn't seen a single road warrior shot down.

            "They are worse shots than us," I said.

            "Truth," she replied. "I could probably hit more of them from way over here."

            From our lofty position, I could see lots of farm and construction vehicles and equipment atop the hill, including two bulldozers, a backhoe, and numerous farm tractors. The gas station on the west side, next to the highway, was within their moat. I suspected the road warriors wanted the gas most of all.

            Indian Village was surrounded by an Agri-business farm prior to the apocalypse. There were no independent farmers there. Everyone worked for the same company. The town was pretty much owned by the company, where they kept all of their offices, warehouses, and barns. Last time I passed through with my family the population was less than two hundred. There appeared to be far more people moving around behind those berms, and that gave me hope.

            "At least they tore down the bridge over the creek," Olivia said.

            We were studying Indian Village more than the road warriors. We knew what the bad guys had. I don't know about Olivia, but I was kinda hoping to see anything to show my family was there. Not sure what that would be because we were too far away to make out faces. If they kept any cars or trucks, they were parked on the other side of the hill.

           
Boom!

            "Whoa!" I cried.

            "What the hell was that?"

            One of the ATVs was burning, with two people on fire running around. A biker raced up and gunned them down. I was horrified.

            "Why'd he do that?"

            "Beats the hell out of me," I muttered. My mind was racing. Those guys were more ruthless than I'd thought. "I guess it was a mercy killing. If they survived the burning, I bet they'd suffer a painful death afterwards without modern medicine."

            "Makes sense, but god." She looked the scene over a bit more. "Was that a Molotov Cocktail?"

            "I'm kind of thinking that, but it was a big one if so."

            Another flash of light arched through the increasing darkness from behind the berm. It flew over the camper. The large bus-like vehicle was on the overpass west of town, overlooking the gas station. The super-sized Molotov Cocktail landed on the county road beyond. They quickly backed the camper further away, before taking the off ramp and parking just off the service road.

            "Did they build catapults?" I asked. If so, I was thrilled. That was something Ralph would've come up with in a heartbeat. "As long as they have jars and gas, they can do some damage. Even zombies are afraid of fire."

            "That explains why there is so much blackened crops around the town."

            I hadn't noticed before, but she was right. Most of the crops closest to the moat were burned away. They'd fought off zombies hordes before. Maybe even other road warriors. I started feeling much better about our prospects.

            "Time to figure out how we can best help the villagers," I said. Looking the road warrior gang over again, I shook my head. "There are more bad guys than I thought. I was only really counting one per motorcycle, but every bike I see has two people. I think there are over a hundred members of the gang, and that's without knowing how many are inside the camper and in back of the U-Hauls."

            The Harley-Davidsons were driving through the blackened fields far easier than I thought possible. Just taking out the ATVs and pickups wasn't going to do it. The camper and U-hauls probably couldn't drive through tilled fields very easily, so taking them out was not going to help us.

            "I'd make a lousy general," I whispered. "I haven't a single idea now that I'm faced with reality."

            "Bull," she said. Leaning over, she kissed me on the cheek. "You're doing great."

            "You're biased. I want a second opinion."

            "Sure. In my opinion, you're handsome, too."

            "Thanks, babe."

            "Aww, don't call me 'babe.'"

            Two of the pickups drove up atop the overpass and laid down some truly horrific fire. That's when I spotted the catapult. Some of the defenders were left sprawled on the ground around it. They had no defense against M60 machine guns.

            "I wish we still had the jeep," I whispered. "We'd rip them new assholes."

            We had to take out the three pickups if nothing else. After so long behind one of those M60s the thought of going up against one terrified me.

            "A grenade will take out one, but then the other two trucks will mow us down," she said. "But you're right, if we had the jeep and M60 then we could wait until all three were close and rip them apart."

            The pickups relented, and drove off the overpass, and then onto the service road opposite Indian Village. We watched more and more of the ATVs and bikers finish their circuit around the fortified hill and park in a long line on the service road. Then the three pickups moved into defensive positions. One covered the underpass, another defended the other side of the bridge, and the last defended our side of the bridge.