"Is the safety off?"

"Of course it is!" he said hotly. He quietly moved the selector b.u.t.ton to 'OFF' hoping Deneaux didn't hear. Gary was twenty or so feet into the wreckage when he began to hear the comforting roar of BT's bike approaching.

A few moments later, BT shut his bike down and dismounted. "Wait up, Gary, I'll come with you."

"He has been." Mrs. Deneaux said.

"What?" BT said as he took his rifle out of the special side mount built into the bike.

"If he went any slower, I'd be able to watch him age."

BT checked his magazine and quickly caught up to Gary. "What the h.e.l.l happened here?" BT asked Gary as they walked past a burned out pick-up truck.

"I don't know, but whatever it was it involved the military. I've seen a few dead soldiers around."

It was difficult to get an accurate picture of what had happened. What had not been burned to a crisp had been devoured by zombies and/or animals; and what was left after that had been picked through by survivors. The only thing that could be easily discerned was that a great battle had been waged here. Thousands of zombies littered the far side of the road, the highway itself, and the beltway between the east and west routes. Not including the ones that were interspersed with the cars on this side of the roadway. Between dead bodies, zombies, and twisted metal, there was not a whole lot of room left for the trio to continue their journey.

"I don't like this at all, Gary," BT said as he stood up from the car he was looking inside. He tried his best to not think of the empty child seat.

"Should we go back and find another route?"

"And that's a problem, we go back and we run the risk of running back into Q-Ball and a few of his best friends. I look at that and all I can see is ambush. That would be all your brother's fault by the way."

Gary smiled. "So I guess we're going forward?"

"The devil we don't know in this case is better than the one we do know."

"Should we keep looking for a car?"

"Won't do any good if we find one here."

"You're right," Gary said. They couldn't take two steps without dodging something; anything less than a city plow would only get mired in the devastation.

"Let's go back. I want to be clear of this place before nightfall," BT said.

Two shots from Deneaux's direction hastened their pace.

"Sorry," Deneaux said a little unnerved. "I was enjoying the sun and dozed off a bit. A zombie grabbed my ankle. If it had bit first I'd be a zombie waiting to happen."

A soldier zombie with crushed legs had crawled over to Deneaux; its outstretched hand had sought purchase on her leg before she put two rounds through its skull. BT still hadn't made up his mind if he would have been upset or not if the zombie had succeeded in its mission.

"We need to go," BT said.

"No words of consolation?" Deneaux asked.

"For the dead soldier?" BT asked.

"I like you more and more every day," Deneaux said as she kick-started her bike.

"Zombies!" Gary yelled. Speeders were sprinting out of the woods across the highway.

"Which way, hot shot?" Deneaux asked BT.

"Forward," he said as he ran for his bike. "Company bringing up the rear."

"f.u.c.k me," Gary said as he looked down the roadway in the direction they had come. A legion of motorcycles were coming their way, and he was fairly certain they weren't heading to Sturgis. "Q-Ball?" He asked as BT's bike roared to life.

"A good a guess as any. Get on Deneaux's bike, that's your best shot," BT said.

"Are you sure?" Gary asked.

"Get on or I'm leaving," Deneaux said as she stowed her cigarettes.

BT nodded tersely.

Gary hopped on.

"Hold on tight, when I lean you lean. Understand?" Deneaux asked Gary.

Gary merely shook his head as the bike took off. Zombies were within fifty yards and vengeful gangsters were less than a half mile away. BT was rapidly falling behind as Deneaux expertly weaved her way in and out of the traffic. BT looked more like a blind man trying to make his way through an unknown and unseen obstacle course.

"Stop the bike," Gary said. After a couple of hundred yards he repeated his request. She didn't acquiesce. "Deneaux, stop the f.u.c.king bike!" he yelled.

"Why?"

"BT isn't going to make it."

"What do you think we should do? Join him?"

"I know you won't, but I'm going to help him."

"Your funeral," she said as she stopped just long enough for him to get off. She sped away without looking back.

"b.i.t.c.h," he said quietly.

Deneaux flipped him the bird.

"No way, there's no way she heard me." He turned to get in position to cover BT's approach.

The zombies were sprinting to catch up, but the gang was motorized. "It's almost going to be a tie," Gary said, not really knowing which group he should start to sight in on. It seemed that the zombies were having the same problem. BT was who they had been focused on; but the bigger, louder (more food) group was coming into their killing grounds. The majority of the zombies peeled off their pursuit of BT and headed to the new dinner buffet.

Q-Ball was so fixated on exacting his revenge he was blind to the new threat, but not all of his gang were. A fair number slowed and either turned around or waited on the periphery. Q-Ball was close enough to BT that he pulled his sidearm out of his holster and rested it on his handle bars. Gary had opted for the zombies to BT's left because his avenue of escape was being threatened. What the biker's did wouldn't matter if BT couldn't make it to Gary to begin with.

BT had the luck of the angels on his side when Q-Ball's shot whined off the top of BT's handlebars. BT presented a much larger target, and as such, should have been the one to catch the round. As it was, BT almost crashed as his front wheel shook violently-his great strength the only thing keeping the bike upright. Gary turned his attention to Q-Ball when he heard the round.

Gary's gut wrenched as he sighted in on a human being, but Q-Ball had gained more ground on his friend and the odds that he would miss again had been greatly reduced.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned..." he said as he pulled the trigger.

A geyser of blood erupted from Q-Ball's throat. The bike fell and slid along the ground, it slammed into at least five zombies, destroying their bodies as it went. However, there were plenty more where they came from as they descended on the dying biker. Gary imagined he could hear the gurgled screams for help as the zombies tore him apart. BT had surged ahead of the lead zombies who now turned their attention back to the gang that suddenly found themselves leaderless and cut off from retreat.

Gunfire blazed as BT pulled up to Gary. "Where's Deneaux?"

"She took off," Gary replied.

"Thank you, Gary."

"It was you or him," Gary said, looking a little worse for the wear.

"I'd have to say you chose wisely, come on, man, hop on."

Gary looked at what remained of the motorcycle seat and was not convinced that an anemic spider monkey would be able to fit. Still, he hopped on, half his a.s.s hanging over the rear fender. The gang would not last long and the zombies were always hungry. Always f.u.c.king hungry, he thought dourly.

They had traveled a couple of miles at the most when they could no longer hear gunfire.

"Do you think it's over?" Gary asked. He didn't have to yell, the traffic was so thick the bike was barely moving.

"Doesn't matter, whichever side won will still be coming for us," BT said, dodging an engine block that looked like it had been ejected from its former location by a rocket launcher.

"What the h.e.l.l happened here?" Gary asked, looking around.

"Not sure, but I bet it has something to do with that." BT took his hand off the handle bars for a moment to point before quickly putting it back.

"Checkpoint ahead, be prepared to stop and have your vehicle searched," Gary read the sign. "Well, leave it to the military to really foul things up."

"I don't think your brother could have said it any more eloquently."

"There it is," Gary said, pointing past BT's face; although how BT could have possibly missed the hastily erected gates replete with razor wire, gun turrets, and the standard deuce-and-a-half military trucks was anybody's guess.

"So the US military in all its infinite wisdom backs up traffic for days and the zombies swoop in thinking this is the world's largest food court," BT said.

"And then they start firing on everything, living and dead, trying to contain the virus," Gary finished. "These people start firing at the zombies and the military...bad news."

BT merely nodded. "Almost out of here." The closer they got to the front, the worse the devastation. Large divots of earth where mortars, grenades and rockets had hit were removed. Finding a viable way around was becoming its own hazard.

"I'm getting off," Gary told BT.

"You can walk faster than I'm going anyway."

"Not that I'm not appreciative, BT, but I'd rather find another ride."

"f.u.c.k it." BT got off the bike. He shut it off and put the kick stand down. "I'll leave it here just in case, but there has to be something up closer than we can take."

"I hope so," Gary said. He wasn't holding out hope, though; it looked like the cars here had been used for target practice. Large caliber machinegun rounds were ripped through most of them. People, plastic, wood, and steel were shredded along with the occasional zombie. "It doesn't really look like they cared what they were shooting at," Gary said as he did the Holy Trinity on his chest. BT remained silent, the anger inside of him threatening to boil over.

A large horn blat stopped them both in their tracks, followed immediately by a cackle and the roar of a diesel engine turning over. BT and Gary broke into a trot to see what Mrs. Deneaux was up to now. She beeped the horn a few more times for good measure.

"f.u.c.k, woman, the whole world is going to know where we're at!" BT yelled as they got to within hailing distance.

"Too late, f.u.c.kwad!" she screamed as she leaned her head out the window and pointed behind the duo. Scores of speeders were streaming towards Gary and BT.

"I guess the bikers lost," Gary said as he broke into a sprint, followed immediately by BT who quickly outpaced him.

"Your brother was right," BT said over his shoulder. "You are slow."

"Funny, don't make me shoot you," Gary huffed.

A puff of black smoke belched from the deuce's exhaust stack.

"Is she leaving?" Gary cried, trying to find another gear he did not possess. Barring any unfortunate mishap he felt safe in the a.s.sumption that he could make it ahead of the lead zombies, but anything past where the truck was now and he was food.

"f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.h," BT said as he surged forward, finding that gear that Gary found so elusive.

Gary had not felt so alone since a junior high dance when his girlfriend Maureen O'Connell had started to dance with his then best friend Pat McDonough. He had not talked to either one since. "Weird thought," Gary mumbled as he plodded on, gaining on the truck but losing ground with the zombies.

The truck, which was facing the traffic jam, was now backing up; Deneaux cut the wheel to the right, then started to swing the truck around. She had it facing away as she backed up to its earlier spot.

BT had caught up and jumped onto the runner on the driver's side. "Move your skinny a.s.s over!" he yelled.

"I hope you can drive one of these better than the motorcycle," she quipped as she placed the truck in park and did as she was told.

"Getting in the back!" Gary yelled as he hoisted himself up and in. He pulled the small tailgate closed and quickly placed the left side locking pin in place. He was not thrilled with his choice of riding spots as the zombies were close enough to shake hands with. "GO, GO, GO!" he screamed.

Gary scrambled back down the narrow truck bed. He got his rifle ready and shot the first zombie as it came up and into the truck. The truck lurched into gear and stalled. Deneaux was cackling wildly, zombies were slamming full tilt into the truck; a few were trying to get in through the back.

"Oh please get this truck moving," Gary entreated as he began to fire at a mult.i.tude of targets. The truck rumbled back to life; more gunfire erupted as Deneaux was shooting at zombies that were coming up on to the sides of the truck.

"Any day," she said calmly to BT, referring to him getting the truck in gear.

Gary had pushed back as far as he could, his back resting against the cool metal of the front of the transport. At least three zombies were having varying degrees of success trying to get in as BT hesitantly got the behemoth truck rolling. It was a good two hundred yards of traveling time before they began to outpace the fast zombies. A baker's dozen of them had latched on to the truck and were making their way as best they could to their targets.

Somehow, a zombie had climbed on top of the truck and Gary could see it trying to rip through the heavy canvas, but he had more immediate problems. The first zombie that had come in was still alive; the bullet had traveled alongside its head and not quite killed it. Two others were dead, and one was holding on to the tailgate for dear unlife. Gary was completely out of ammo.

He frantically felt around his pockets looking for any spare ordinance, remembering that he had left it in Deneaux's saddle bags. A tear above him brought his attention that way as he saw a finger poke through a small hole.

"Time is running out," Gary said as he stood, stooping to stay out of reach. He moved to the rear of the truck, taking careful stock of the dazed and hopefully dying zombie. The zombie on the tailgate snarled and snapped its teeth as Gary approached. Its feet were bouncing along wildly on the asphalt as it clung to the tailgate. Gary couldn't help but smile when he thought the zombie looked suspiciously like Michael Flatley. The moment pa.s.sed quickly as he brought the b.u.t.t of his weapon down heavily on the fingers of the zombie.

Nothing, not so much as a whimper, as Gary used crushing force to dislodge the zombie's hands. The zombie was still trying to pull itself into the truck. Gary repeatedly smashed the hands until there was nothing more than shredded skin holding the zombie to the truck; inertia and gravity did the rest as the fingers separated away from the body. The zombie tumbled down the roadway, once it came to a full stop it immediately got up and started running again towards the truck.

"You have got to be kidding me?" Gary asked, just then he heard the telltale sound of canvas tearing followed immediately by a heavy thud as the zombie fell through the hole it had made. "This is insane!" Gary yelled as he rushed over to the zombie and began to drive the b.u.t.t of his rifle into its skull before it had a chance to regain its legs.

The zombie thrashed wildly back and forth as Gary caved in its head. The pile of bone-infused meat on the floor by his feet did not resemble anything even remotely human, but the twitching wedding band laden left hand would be something that haunted him.

"I think I'm going to throw up," Gary said as he dropped his rifle and lurched to the rear of the truck reluctant to add his bile to the ever expanding pool of human-like matter already there.

He was hanging his head over the lip of the tailgate trying to pull in as much fresh air as was possible, which was not easy considering he was directly in the flow pattern of the truck's exhaust. That was still better than the zombies. The truck was moving and the shooting had subsided, Gary felt they must be out of immediate danger right until he felt something bite down on his ankle. Denim and leather the only things that separated him from certain death, Gary jumped up and scooted down to the front of the truck on the bench seat used for troop transportation using the b.u.t.t of his rifle as a make-shift paddle, he didn't stop until his rifle b.u.t.t plunged into the mashed head of the zombie that had dropped from the ceiling. For reasons he still can't fathom, he pulled his gun up and towards his face so that he could see what was stuck there. He vomited as the gray-black gelatinous ooze dripped from the stock and onto his lap.

The zombie that had been dazed and laying on the floor was now making its way to an oblivious Gary. At some point the truck had stopped and BT had come around the back.