Post-Apocalyptic Nomadic Warriors Part 15

Erica laughed, "Whatever."

Chewy barked again.

"Fine, you can have your seat, Chewbacca." She laughed as she left the seat. "Hey, boys, guess what?"

Chewy took her seat; Jerry leaned over and scratched her head. "Good girl."

From the back of the motor coach she tried to explain herself to the three boys. "It's a movie. It's ... oh, what do you know? You're young and stupid."

Then she shouted, "Let's go, Solo."

Jerry whispered to Chewy, "When she's not looking, eat her rifle."

Chewy snorted and put her head out the window.

The Silver Lining's motor purred and the ma.s.sive vehicle moved on down the road.

NINETEEN.

"What do you think of that?"

"Wow," Sarah leapt from the car and stared in amazement. "Where are we?"

"That was Dallas."

The skyline of the once great city spread out before them. Ma.s.sive buildings and overpa.s.ses, once buzzing with life and power, stood desolate and covered with vines. The Trinity River had filled and rushed the levees long ago, fueling the lush vegetation's growth.

There were few elevated areas in Dallas, but Logan had managed to find a hilltop with a view of the city. Erica leapt from the car.

"I've never seen anything so green. It's beautiful." Plant life crawled from the ground and dropped from windowless buildings to weave a veritable rain forest in the middle of the former metropolis.

"It wasn't always green. Before the war, it was gray and brown. Nothing but concrete and dry gra.s.s."

"Uh, I remember Dallas. But I haven't seen it since the apocalypse. How did it get this way?"

Logan shrugged. "Who knows what they put in all the bombs? Whatever hit here caused the plants to grow like crazy."

"Can we go down there?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It's not safe."

"Oh, but I'll be fine. I've got a rough and tough road warrior to keep me safe from the big bad plants. C'mon," she jumped back into the car, "let's get closer."

Logan didn't move. He stood outside his car, staring at the green city.

Sarah stood up. "It's not the plants, is it?"

Logan shook his head.

"What's out there?"

Logan hesitated, "Not all mutants are animals, Sarah. A lot of people died instantly when the bombs. .h.i.t. But a lot weren't so lucky. There were those that survived, and those that chose to stay behind. They became something else. Something not human."

"Will they hurt you?"

"They'll eat you."

The girl shuttered and asked, "Why did you want to show me this?"

"Like you said, it's beautiful. Charming, even. But, you can't trust it. Also, I didn't have any problem taking a drive with a beautiful woman."

She forced a sigh and smiled. He smiled back.

"So, what's your plan now, Romeo? You've got me out here. But I still don't trust you."

"Would you believe I've got a picnic basket in the trunk?"

"You don't," she laughed. "Though maybe you do, because I can't think of a cheesier move."

Logan pulled the keys from the mustang and moved towards the back of the car. He smiled at her again and reached for the trunk release.

Sparks flew from the trunk of the car as a bullet drove itself through the pony logo. The report sounded a moment later.

Logan dove for the pa.s.senger side of the car and tackled Sarah to the ground.

"Stay down!"

Another report cracked and filled the silent wasteland with the echo of the gunshot.

Moving quickly, Logan grabbed Sarah by the arm and tossed her into the car. With one fluid motion, he shut the door and brought his rifle to his shoulder.

He ducked behind the fender as another shot sounded. It went wide and buried itself in the dirt just beyond the Mustang. Spotting movement behind a tree fifty yards out, he opened fire and emptied the clip of his a.s.sault rifle into the dirt at the shooter's feet.

The sniper pulled back behind the tree, giving Logan the mere moments he needed.

The warrior stood and slid across the hood of his Mustang. Bouncing off the ground, his feet barely touched earth before he changed directions and leapt behind the rear fender. He opened the door and jumped into the seat.

"Put your seatbelt on!" he yelled as he turned the ignition. His hand free of the key, he reached under his seat and retrieved a Glock. He raked the slide and pulled the t-grip s.h.i.+fter into reverse.

The Mustang spun and turned 180 degrees, tearing up the turf beneath its tires. Sod flew and the engine roared as Logan jammed the transmission into first. The Mustang leapt forward and he pointed it at the shooter.

The car bounced across the field. Shocks built for the street struggled to smooth out the ride, but the pa.s.sengers inside were tossed further than their seat belts would allow. Sarah felt the bite of the fabric against her shoulder and groped for the handle to steady herself.

Another shooter emerged further down the road and fired three rounds. Each missed the Mustang.

Logan stayed focused on the first gunman. He had emerged from behind the tree and was running through a spa.r.s.ely wooded field. Clad in black, the gunman dodged in and out of the trees, making his way to the road.

Logan swung wide around the edge of the woods. The back tires lost traction and began to slide, but the girl in the pa.s.senger seat could tell that, no matter how much it may seem, the car was never out of control. The warrior worked the wheel with precision. His feet worked the clutch, gas, and brake without effort as the engine revved and slowed on command.

The Mustang reached the road and entered it sideways down from where the gunman had emerged. The tires screeched as they took hold on the asphalt. Sarah was thrown against the pa.s.senger door.

"Why don't you just let him go?" Sarah was excited and terrified. Her fingernails dug into her own hand as it wrapped around the grip above the door.

Logan rolled down his window, "Those aren't scavengers. They're scouts. And if they report back to the truck that I'm here, things will get bad fast."

The gunman burst from the woods and ran hard for a motorcycle that had been hidden away on the side of the road. He jumped on and kicked the engine to life. The whine of the v-twin engine screamed across the open road.

"You said motorcycles are faster than your car."

"Only if he's riding it. Plug your ears."

Logan cranked the wheel of the Mustang and pulled the handle that sat between the seats. The rear wheels locked and broke free of the road and the car began to spin. He let go of the lever and crushed the gas pedal. White smoke filled the air as the pony car pulled up next to the man on the motorcycle, backwards.

Logan thrust the Glock through the window and fired several times. The Glock bounced in his hand as each pull of the trigger cycled another round into the chamber. Empty casings clattered as they fell to the ground.

The smoke hid the gore of a half dozen gunshots, but Sarah saw the gunman shudder with each pull of the trigger and fall to the ground. The running bike collapsed on top of him.

Sarah gasped and pointed down the road, "There's another one."

The Mustang was eager to please the demands of a wide-open throttle. Sarah felt herself pulled deep into the leather seat as the powerful V-8 drove them forward.

They quickly pa.s.sed the skid marks they had made near the field and rounded a turn in the road. The second rider pinned the throttle and the cruiser responded. His head start wasn't great, but it could be enough.

"You're not going to catch him."

"We have to. If they expect resistance when they arrive our plan won't work."

"But, you said motorcycles were faster."

"Not always." With the flick of his thumb the warrior exposed a red b.u.t.ton at the end of the s.h.i.+fter's t-grip. He jammed the red b.u.t.ton and was rewarded with a hiss and a tremendous boost from the engine. Its roar turned to a scream as nitrous flooded the fuel lines.

Sarah couldn't move if she wanted to. The brute force of acceleration kept her pinned to her seat. She felt as though she was about to tear the handle off the frame.

Logan dropped the Glock into his lap and gripped the wheel with both hands, letting go only to s.h.i.+ft to the top gear. Every bounce seemed to coax the car into leaving the ground. The tires protested every turn; the rubber chirped with each bounce and wheel correction. The motorcycle grew in the winds.h.i.+eld.

The tachometer needle bounced as Logan worked through the six-speed transmission; the speedometer climbed steadily, and the Mustang pulled along side of the Harley.

Logan grabbed the Glock and extended his arm out the window.

The rider was quick. He leaned the bike closer to the car and closed the distance.

Before he could pull the trigger, a leather boot struck Logan's hand. Logan grunted and the Glock rattled to the ground.

He pulled his hand back in pain. He gnashed his teeth.

"Look out!" Sarah screamed. The excitement was gone. There was only horror in her voice now.

The rider had pulled a sawed-off shotgun from the far side of the bike and was drawing a bead on the warrior.

Logan pulled left and brought the shotgun in through the window. With his left arm he locked the rider's wrist. He veered right and dragged the rider from his bike. The bike toppled and flipped, end over end, as a shower of sparks and shattered fibergla.s.s rained down on the road.

The screaming from the helmet was intense.

Logan held the driver to the side of the car as he sped along the road. The rider's feet and knees bounced off of the asphalt as he tried to establish a footing that was impossible. Every sc.r.a.pe against the road left tracts of leather from his gear on the road behind him. It wouldn't be long before the protective gear was eroded away, exposing skin and bone to the road's surface.

Logan straightened the car and began to slow. He pulled the shotgun from the gunman's hand as the car's speed dropped under thirty. Logan slammed on the brakes and let go of the arm.

The rider fell to the ground and rolled to the front wheel. Shredded clothes and bruised knees did little to slow the rider. Rising to hands and knees, he dug his hand into his jacket, reaching for another weapon.

Logan was quicker. He drove his shoulder into the door and crashed it into the rider's helmet.

The sh.e.l.l cracked down the center and forced the rider back to the ground.

Logan jumped from the car and pulled the man to his feet.

"How much time do we have?"

The rider said nothing.

Ripping the visor from the helmet, Logan stared into the frightened eyes and drove his fist into the man's stomach.

Even through the helmet the girl could hear the wind escape the man's lungs. The rider doubled over.

"Where is the truck?"

He couldn't tell whether the rider had been feigning or was desperate. The rider bolted upright with surprising force and drove the helmet into Logan's chin.

He stumbled back on his heels trying to catch his balance.

The rider dove at the stumbling warrior. Flashes of light bounced off a knife in his right hand.

Sarah screamed.

Now, seemingly unfazed by his fall, the rider moved with quick and polished movements. The silver blade now moved too fast for reflections to catch. He sliced, stabbed, and hacked at Logan as the warrior struggled to regain his footing.

Whistling as it sliced through the air, the blade's tone changed as it caught Logan's leather jacket with various strikes. Every few slashes were followed by a kick intended to keep Logan off balance. They worked.

Logan threw his body in impossible directions to avoid the blade and the boots that came at him. A low slash caused Logan to double over as he pulled his stomach out of the path of the knife. This left his face exposed to the full force of the rider's boot.