Sarah tapped the gas pedal and drove onward. Just as she pulled out, a large group of zombies reached them. They raked their fingernails across the hard steel side and groaned in frustration at their endless hunger.

"How much further do you think we'll have to go?"

"Judging by the smoke cloud ahead, not far," Sarah answered, and pointed to the horizon where wisps of black smoke curled into the air.

"Is it the Marauders?"

"I don't know. It could be or somebody else. We'll check it out," she said.

The SUV raced along the broken landscape and discarded lives of the highway waste. Sarah turned on the radio as they traveled but only got a hiss of static.

"I wish I could hear some music," Sarah sighed.

"I can sing," Joelle said. "I sing to my daughter all the time."

"Really? Well, let's hear it."

Joelle cleared her throat and began.

"The greatest adventure is what lies ahead. Today and tomorrow are yet to be spent. The chances the changes are all yours to make. The mold of your life lies in your hands to make. The man who's a dreamer will never know pain. He'll sit by the window until one day sees rain. The greatest adventure is yet to be said."

"What was that from?"

"The Hobbit, By J.R.R Tolkien, it's in the beginning of the cartoon version. I don't know all the words but my daughter loves to hear that song. The book is about a group of dwarves on their way to reclaim their lost kingdom from the dragon Smog. Bilbo, the Hobbit, gets wrapped up in it and discovers that he's more special than he thinks he is."

"You have a great voice. How come you never sing at camp?"

Joelle looked off to the side. "Graves won't let me. He said that if I sang the Marauders would see me as weak and being in a position of authority now I can't risk that chance."

"What an asshole," Sarah said.

They drove on in silence, aware of the carnage surrounding them, but not focusing on it. Instead, they kept looking into the distance at the billowing cloud of smoke as it got bigger and bigger.

The sun died and the land grew darker.

Once they were closer, Sarah turned off at Exit Ramp 18 and swerved around an overturned tractor trailer. The acrid smell from the fire seeped through the broken window and made them cough.

"I don't like this," Sarah said. "We burn rotters in small piles, not in a big mound like that."

"They're not burning rotters," Joelle insisted. "I would recognize the smell. I've been around the fires long enough while you've been on the road."

"Once we get there, stay close to me," Sarah said.

As they drove around the bend she slammed on the brakes and cursed.

A blockade of armed men was stretched across the road to greet them. They were heavily armed with assault rifles and wore surprised expressions.

"Those aren't our friends," Joelle gasped. "Get us out of here."

One of the men in the group spoke through a megaphone.

"Stay where you are. We're here to help you."

Sarah revved the engine.

"Bullshit, this is our territory. Who the fuck these guys think they are?"

"Go into reverse, quick," Joelle ordered, clawing at Sarah's steering arm like a wild cat.

"Fuck that, let's go through them. I want to see who these people are and if they killed everyone else." Before Joelle could react, Sarah slammed her foot down on the gas pedal and the SUV roared forward.

The man on the megaphone started screaming incoherently as the car barreled forward.

Sarah ducked under the dashboard and Joelle did the same. Gunfire erupted, shattering the windshield and singing over their heads.

The SUV continued forward, gaining speed and heading straight for the blockade. Men darted out of the way as the vehicle roared past. Once clear of the gunfire, Sarah sat up in her seat and guided them to the Marauder's campsite.

"That was easy," Sarah laughed.

"You could've gotten us killed," Joelle panted. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"They would've shot us or much worse. I'm not going to be some guy's sex slave," Sarah replied. "You should thank me."

"Well, I am still alive."

"See, everything is going to be just . . ." Sarah's voice trailed off as they drove up to the base camp they'd called home these past few weeks. Where endless cars and motorcycles had surrounded makeshift tents was now a vacant area devoid of the nomads. All that remained was a few shredded tents flapping in the wind.

"They're gone," Sarah stated flatly.

"Yeah, what did you expect? They said they were leaving this morning."

"I know, I just wanted to make sure they got away before those jerks got here," Sarah explained.

"Now what do we do?"

"We're going after them," Sarah said, but before she could drive away a bright halogen light blinded her. Cars swarmed around them, blocking their sides and rear.

Sarah gunned the engine and was about to peel out when the barrel of an automatic rifle shot through the shattered driver's window and poked her in the head.

"Don't even try it. You're surrounded, bitch," a gruff voice said.

Sarah dug her fingernails into the steering wheel.

"We can't escape," Joelle said. "They've got us. We should've never come here."

"Damn right," the man with the gun sneered.

Other men came out of the darkness carrying highpowered rifles.

Sarah killed the engine.

"We're fucking screwed," she spat.

Alex eased up the throttle of his Harley when he spotted the black cloud of smoke. The red truck had continued on, racing down the highway and off an exit ramp. Whoever the two ladies were, they were reckless and wouldn't make it far in the New World. He had seen a smoke cloud like this twice before in his travels and knew exactly who'd made it and why. The Watchers were here. They were a highly organized band comprised predominantly of men who claimed ownership of East Tennessee and put an end to the nomadic tribes whenever they managed to find them. They executed the men, enslaved the women, and claimed it was God's will. They wouldn't stop until all the Marauders were destroyed and planned on going after the Survivor tribes next. The smoke cloud represented a victory.

"As if things weren't bad enough with the zombies, now I have to deal with these fuckheads," he muttered to himself.

He caught a flash of movement from the corner of his eye. A zombie lurched out into the open and headed for him with outstretched arms. Another stumbled from behind a wreck and moaned hungrily.

Alex put the kick stand down and shut off the bike. He'd deal with these two before dark then come up with a plan for saving the girls. He needed them for information and would extract it by any means necessary, even if it meant killing every Watcher in the camp.

He slipped a nail-studded bat from behind his back. He hoisted the bat, choking on it like a baseball player waiting for the pitch. The zombies came closer, closer, and once they were in range he delivered a quick blow to one of their heads, sending the long nails through its skull and out the other side. When he pulled the bat free, the other zombie was upon him but he didn't swing at it. He saw the black leather jacket it wore and was mesmerized. The emblem for the Marauders, a crow gripping a rotting skull, was stitched just below where the heart would be on a living person.

The zombie grabbed him and opened its ragged mouth to chew on his face. Alex slammed his gloved fist into the zombie's neck, cracking the wind pipe and knocking it backward. He swung the nail bat at its knees, cracking both. The zombie fell onto the highway face first and twitched like an old person after they had fallen down a flight of stairs. He raised the bat high over his head and bashed in the zombie's head until the streets were littered with brain matter.

"I'll kill you fucking Marauders, every last one of you." The nail bat was bent after he was finished staving the zombie's skull in, and he left it near the dead body. He knew in his heart the statement was fueled by anger. He only wanted to kill one man; the man who'd taken the last shred of his tattered family away forever. The man responsible for endless nights spent digging through the trash for enough food to eat just to keep him going on his long journey.

He patted the wolf's head knife strapped to his waist.

"Soon," he said.

Alex got back on his motorcycle and drove off the highway and into the countryside. He'd sneak around the Watchers once the sun was completely gone and pump the girls for the information he needed to exact his revenge. And if he killed a few Watchers along the way, then so be it.

Chapter 5.

"I'm scared," Joelle said, shivering. She sat on the ground with her hands tied behind her back beside Sarah who continued to stare at the guard. He was a young teenager, could hardly hold his rifle correctly, and kept his back to them as though he was ashamed of looking in their direction.

"Don't be scared, not yet anyway. If they were going to shoot us they would've done it already," Sarah said.

"If they won't kill us then what do you think they'll do?" Joelle snapped. She adjusted her ankle and wept.

"At least they'll put your foot in a cast."

The guard heard them talking and spun around. He was only about fifteen or so, and hadn't yet gotten rid of his baby fat.

"We're not going to rape you. The Watchers don't do that sort of thing. Those raiders who escaped this afternoon would though, you should be happy you're rid of them."

"Shut up you brat. You don't know what you're talking about. I've seen how the Watchers operate," Sarah said. "They kidnap women and give them to the high ranking officers. You've probably never seen it because you're just a grunt."

"You're lying," he said, but his voice was breaking.

"Yeah, just watch. Here's the chief fuckhead right now," she said.

A tall skinny man in camouflage approached them. He carried a large suitcase which slowed him down.

"Which one of you has the broken ankle?"

"That's me," Joelle answered. "I broke it when . . ."

"I don't care where you broke it," the man replied. He set the suitcase down and opened it. Piles of medical supplies spilled out: needles, bottles, bandages, wraps, glue, and an odd assortment of pills in a zip lock bag. He examined Joelle's ankle, turned it this way and that, then he slid a foam wrap around her ankle and began applying the strips for the cast. The entire process only took a few minutes. The man never spoke until he was finished.

"Keep your leg elevated and don't try to walk on it for at least two weeks. The bone won't heal until six or eight months from now."

He packed his supplies and left.

"Wait a minute," Joelle halted him.

"What is it?"

"Thank you," she said.

The man gave a slight nod and left in a hurry.

"See, things are looking better already," Sarah grinned.

"Shut up."

They sat on the frozen ground for half an hour before being addressed again. This time five men came and yanked them to their feet and forced them to walk toward a modified RV. The young guard watched them go. Joelle lagged behind but the men wouldn't assist her. They made her hop on her good foot until they reached the vehicle. Sheets of metal were welded onto the front and sides, the windows had bars, and a machine gun was mounted on the roof on a tripod.

One of the men opened the door. "Ladies first," he chuckled.

Sarah's upper lip curled in a snarl. She climbed inside the RV, Joelle followed.

Inside, the armored vehicle was completely cored out. The beds were torn from the walls and the kitchen was nonexistent. In the center of the RV was a hard looking man with large biceps poking out of his black Tshirt. He sat behind a wooden desk, and spoke in a deep baritone.

"Welcome ladies. My name is Paris. I'm afraid you've come at a bad time."

One of the guards brought two folding chairs from outside and forced the girls to sit on them.

"What the fuck do you want with us?" Sarah grunted.

Paris leaned over his desk and unfolded his hands on the table.

"You're part of the Marauder gang aren't you?"

Sarah sucked in her lips. Joelle stared at the floor.

"Why else would you have come here? Why were you so insistent upon seeing the remains of the nomads' campsite? Not talking, huh? Well, if you're not Marauders then I'll assign you to separate groups of men to relieve the stress."