was hard to make out individual shapes. The noise of the mass
was deafening; they beat and pounded on the hood of the truck, snarling when
their skin or hands would find the barbed wire.
Joe grinned. He
liked this new life—although filled with fear, hardships, death, and starvation,
he felt it suited him better than schoolwork and juggling odd jobs. Even before
all this, life could have been easier in the city, but he loved the mountains
and his big trucks. Joe would rather spend a day on a roof than trapped on an
assembly line or in college; he figured that could all wait for later. He was
working as a ranch hand for Dan when it all started. The job didn’t pay much,
but it kept him fed and gave him a place to stay.
Dan was strong and
capable. Retired Army—or maybe a Marine, Joe couldn’t be sure because Dan never
talked about it. He was a hard boss to work for, but he kept Joe honest. He
saved Joe’s life several times at the start of things, teaching him how to move
around and how to conceal the property to keep people out. Although, nobody
ever came except for some of Dan’s family and a neighbor from farther up the
mountain. Joe frowned when he thought of Dan. He was really going to be pissed
about him losing the gun.
Joe grinned. “Well,
I better get back before the old man throws out my stuff and gives away my
bed.”
Joe let his hand
search the steering column; he gave the keys a quick jingle for good luck and
turned the ignition while he pumped the gas pedal. The truck roared to life; he
revved the engine in competition with the mob’s roars. He felt the engine’s
vibration combine with the pulsing and rattle of the mob. Even though he should
be afraid, the mass made Joe-Mac smile. His hand searched the ceiling, finding
the switches to the light bars. He flipped all of them on at once, and bright
halogen lights illuminated the space in all directions.
They pressed on all
sides against the truck, howling, pushing, and shoving to get closer. The
protective wire was gashing and slicing away skin; some ignored the pain or were
just forced into the jagged glass from others pressing it forward. Joe searched
the crowd, looking for the one. There was always at least one. The one that
kept its distance, the one that would push a wounded female out ahead, or
organize a mob. Joe dropped the truck into four-wheel drive and let it ease
forward, the V8 having no trouble moving the crazed out of its way.
He drove slowly,
allowing them to follow alongside. He spotted the loner at the end of the tree
line; she stood alone. Broad shouldered, long matted hair, nearly naked to the
waist, she looked directly into the bright lights of the truck, not flinching.
She didn’t run at him like the others did. She didn’t howl. She seemed to study
Joe in the same way he studied her. Joe kept the truck moving in a slow,
straight line; then when he was less than fifty feet out, he pushed the pedal
to the floor. The truck accelerated hard, throwing the creatures off the hood,
bouncing them to the sides. At the last moment, he cut the wheel sharply and
aimed for the broad-shouldered woman. She looked at the truck then her mouth
opened wide as her body tensed just before the impact. The steel brush guard
crushed her frame, the momentum tossing her up and over the cab of the truck
like a rag doll. For a moment, Joe thought he saw a look of recognition on the woman’s
face, that she knew what was about to happen… that she knew she was about to
die. In that moment, she almost looked human. He gripped the wheel tight and
pushed the ideas from his mind.
Joe steered out of
the sharp turn, looking for the center of the road. Maintaining his speed, he
cut the wheel hard and the tires squealed as he drove onto the tiny main
street. He left town, driving fast. He needed to get distance on this group
before he hit the narrow mountain trail that would take him back to Dan Cloud’s
cabin. The old man would for sure shoot him if he brought
was deafening; they beat and pounded on the hood of the truck, snarling when
their skin or hands would find the barbed wire.
Joe grinned. He
liked this new life—although filled with fear, hardships, death, and starvation,
he felt it suited him better than schoolwork and juggling odd jobs. Even before
all this, life could have been easier in the city, but he loved the mountains
and his big trucks. Joe would rather spend a day on a roof than trapped on an
assembly line or in college; he figured that could all wait for later. He was
working as a ranch hand for Dan when it all started. The job didn’t pay much,
but it kept him fed and gave him a place to stay.
Dan was strong and
capable. Retired Army—or maybe a Marine, Joe couldn’t be sure because Dan never
talked about it. He was a hard boss to work for, but he kept Joe honest. He
saved Joe’s life several times at the start of things, teaching him how to move
around and how to conceal the property to keep people out. Although, nobody
ever came except for some of Dan’s family and a neighbor from farther up the
mountain. Joe frowned when he thought of Dan. He was really going to be pissed
about him losing the gun.
Joe grinned. “Well,
I better get back before the old man throws out my stuff and gives away my
bed.”
Joe let his hand
search the steering column; he gave the keys a quick jingle for good luck and
turned the ignition while he pumped the gas pedal. The truck roared to life; he
revved the engine in competition with the mob’s roars. He felt the engine’s
vibration combine with the pulsing and rattle of the mob. Even though he should
be afraid, the mass made Joe-Mac smile. His hand searched the ceiling, finding
the switches to the light bars. He flipped all of them on at once, and bright
halogen lights illuminated the space in all directions.
They pressed on all
sides against the truck, howling, pushing, and shoving to get closer. The
protective wire was gashing and slicing away skin; some ignored the pain or were
just forced into the jagged glass from others pressing it forward. Joe searched
the crowd, looking for the one. There was always at least one. The one that
kept its distance, the one that would push a wounded female out ahead, or
organize a mob. Joe dropped the truck into four-wheel drive and let it ease
forward, the V8 having no trouble moving the crazed out of its way.
He drove slowly,
allowing them to follow alongside. He spotted the loner at the end of the tree
line; she stood alone. Broad shouldered, long matted hair, nearly naked to the
waist, she looked directly into the bright lights of the truck, not flinching.
She didn’t run at him like the others did. She didn’t howl. She seemed to study
Joe in the same way he studied her. Joe kept the truck moving in a slow,
straight line; then when he was less than fifty feet out, he pushed the pedal
to the floor. The truck accelerated hard, throwing the creatures off the hood,
bouncing them to the sides. At the last moment, he cut the wheel sharply and
aimed for the broad-shouldered woman. She looked at the truck then her mouth
opened wide as her body tensed just before the impact. The steel brush guard
crushed her frame, the momentum tossing her up and over the cab of the truck
like a rag doll. For a moment, Joe thought he saw a look of recognition on the woman’s
face, that she knew what was about to happen… that she knew she was about to
die. In that moment, she almost looked human. He gripped the wheel tight and
pushed the ideas from his mind.
Joe steered out of
the sharp turn, looking for the center of the road. Maintaining his speed, he
cut the wheel hard and the tires squealed as he drove onto the tiny main
street. He left town, driving fast. He needed to get distance on this group
before he hit the narrow mountain trail that would take him back to Dan Cloud’s
cabin. The old man would for sure shoot him if he brought
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