Read Online Riding The Apocalypse by Frank Ignagni III - Free Book Online
Authors: Frank Ignagni III
Tags: Zombies
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boring after a while. Even for the most passionate motorcyclists, endlessly riding up and down the highways and back roads can become monotonous. When you have a purpose and a reason to ride—for example, a destination—it is more enjoyable than simply riding for the sake of riding. I assume you have heard the expression “getting there is half the fun”? This applies to motorcycling as well. The quest Buell and I were on gave legitimate purpose to the ride. For a few fleeting moments, it felt like any other day Buell and I were riding together. On many a sunny day we would find ourselves riding in town and taking the corners quicker than law enforcement would prefer. Only this time instead of going to the motorcycle dealer for plugs, advice, or even a new helmet, we were going for supplies to survive an apocalypse.
It felt right though.
“Let’s take Campbell Ave, Rem, Hamilton looks like shit,” Buell said over the intercom.
“Yeah, good call, I’ll be right behind you.”
Of course I would, even during an apocalypse, he wouldn’t let me pass.
Hamilton Avenue is a main artery in Campbell and it led almost directly to the Kmart on Saratoga Ave, a mere five miles away. As we left the garage’s more industrial district, the roads became exponentially more crowded with cars, military vehicles, and pedestrians. Campbell Avenue ran parallel to Hamilton, but was more residential and therefore less crowded. The trade-off of more intersections for fewer cars and monsters seemed a reasonable one.
As we turned left off Hamilton, I saw a distinct change in my surroundings. The residential neighborhood was quiet and looked almost abandoned. Houses on one side of the street were boarded up, and I could see what I guessed to be rifles moving back and forth in between the sheets of plywood. We passed more private homes, and I saw a few people running in and out of their homes from their cars or other houses, but there was remarkably little movement overall. I assumed people were hunkered down inside, or had attempted to flee. In some way, the stillness seemed more sinister than the military presence, chaos, or sirens. Many homes had garage doors open, and the garages were empty or disheveled. Debris was strewn in the streets, and in front of one home, I saw bags of spilled groceries all over the driveway. Maybe someone had left their goods on top of the roof of their car in their haste?
As we rode slowly, side by side down Campbell Avenue, we saw a dozen monsters clamoring at the front door of one of the homes. As we rode past, a few peeled off toward us, but the rest remained at the door, pounding and moaning.
“There must be someone in there,” I said into my helmet microphone.
“Yeah, but not much we can do with a baseball bat and a crowbar against those fuckers,” answered Buell.
I felt a twinge in the back of my neck as we passed by. Chills ran down my back because we weren’t stopping to help. Sure, we had a job to do, and for all we knew, there was only a television left on in the house, and the monsters were attracted to the sound. Still this was the first decision we had to make for self-preservation, and it didn’t feel good.
We reached Saratoga Avenue without further incident and made a right. Almost instantly we were back on busy streets, complete with sirens and frantic pace.
With more people and cars packing the streets, we were forced to lane split to keep moving. Thank goodness for two wheels instead of four, or I don’t think we would have hit the Kmart parking lot before dark. The ability to ride our bikes between the cars was a blessing and a lifeline. We made it safely, albeit slowly, to Kmart soon after.
The lot was ringed with police vehicles protecting the Kmart and adjacent shopping mall. We also witnessed a few skirmishes as we approached, but the area seemed well under control, considering the circumstances. We saw no visible signs of carnage or blood in the parking lot and everyone
It felt right though.
“Let’s take Campbell Ave, Rem, Hamilton looks like shit,” Buell said over the intercom.
“Yeah, good call, I’ll be right behind you.”
Of course I would, even during an apocalypse, he wouldn’t let me pass.
Hamilton Avenue is a main artery in Campbell and it led almost directly to the Kmart on Saratoga Ave, a mere five miles away. As we left the garage’s more industrial district, the roads became exponentially more crowded with cars, military vehicles, and pedestrians. Campbell Avenue ran parallel to Hamilton, but was more residential and therefore less crowded. The trade-off of more intersections for fewer cars and monsters seemed a reasonable one.
As we turned left off Hamilton, I saw a distinct change in my surroundings. The residential neighborhood was quiet and looked almost abandoned. Houses on one side of the street were boarded up, and I could see what I guessed to be rifles moving back and forth in between the sheets of plywood. We passed more private homes, and I saw a few people running in and out of their homes from their cars or other houses, but there was remarkably little movement overall. I assumed people were hunkered down inside, or had attempted to flee. In some way, the stillness seemed more sinister than the military presence, chaos, or sirens. Many homes had garage doors open, and the garages were empty or disheveled. Debris was strewn in the streets, and in front of one home, I saw bags of spilled groceries all over the driveway. Maybe someone had left their goods on top of the roof of their car in their haste?
As we rode slowly, side by side down Campbell Avenue, we saw a dozen monsters clamoring at the front door of one of the homes. As we rode past, a few peeled off toward us, but the rest remained at the door, pounding and moaning.
“There must be someone in there,” I said into my helmet microphone.
“Yeah, but not much we can do with a baseball bat and a crowbar against those fuckers,” answered Buell.
I felt a twinge in the back of my neck as we passed by. Chills ran down my back because we weren’t stopping to help. Sure, we had a job to do, and for all we knew, there was only a television left on in the house, and the monsters were attracted to the sound. Still this was the first decision we had to make for self-preservation, and it didn’t feel good.
We reached Saratoga Avenue without further incident and made a right. Almost instantly we were back on busy streets, complete with sirens and frantic pace.
With more people and cars packing the streets, we were forced to lane split to keep moving. Thank goodness for two wheels instead of four, or I don’t think we would have hit the Kmart parking lot before dark. The ability to ride our bikes between the cars was a blessing and a lifeline. We made it safely, albeit slowly, to Kmart soon after.
The lot was ringed with police vehicles protecting the Kmart and adjacent shopping mall. We also witnessed a few skirmishes as we approached, but the area seemed well under control, considering the circumstances. We saw no visible signs of carnage or blood in the parking lot and everyone
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