Dark Paths: Apocalypse Riders (19 page)

Her bullet struck home.

Sunny killed the man to the left, though she got him in the neck. They’d have to shoot him between the eyes to keep him from rising.

The third man raised his arms and dropped his gun.
Another new recruit.
“You better run before the rest of the lady army gets here,” Sunny said. He took off back in the opposite direction.

Lia sank to her knees in front of Call. “You’re okay? For real?” she asked again, tilting his head up to look into his face. He answered by wrapping his arms around her and burying his face at her neck.

“Sunny,” she said, “Did we clear the whole floor?”

“Think so. The cavalry’s here anyway.” She hadn’t heard the engines. Preacher and company had finally shown up. “We should go. But what about the other biker?”

“Dead.” Call was taking deep, heaving breaths and clinging to her tight, his fists bunching her shirt behind her. He kissed her neck softly then stood, drawing her up with him. “Dray’s dead,” he said.

“What about the girls from the bus?” Lia asked. She tugged him forward, towards the stairs. “It’s is still outside.”

“I don’t know.”

Three Devil’s Ashes men streamed past them as they cleared the building. Preacher stopped them at the front doors. “Thank God,” he said. “Anyone else inside?”

“Don’t know,” Lia said.

“Dray’s dead,” Call said, “Pull the boys back out and let’s hit the road.”

“We haven’t cleared the main building yet,” Preacher said with a grimace. “We can’t get close. We… might have lost some men who went inside. Sheedy rushed in.”

“You’re all here? You left the compound almost completely undefended,” Call said.

“The posts are full,” Preacher assured him. “It’s just the club here. And, well, these two.”

Lia looked to the sky. Almost fully dark. “Guys, we have another issue,” she said, “We may be trapped here for the night anyway. There were corpses further back and they were following us. They’ll be here soon.”

Satan’s Remains fled as soon as Call made his presence known. It turned out Lia had killed the head of the mission - their vice president himself. With the body of their club as new and shaky and disloyal as they were, that was the only news they needed to make them tuck tail and run. The missing women appeared with them, fleeing out the back of the hospital, bodily shielding the club member’s backs.

Call ordered his men to stand down and let them leave. “Anyone who shoots one of those pregnant ladies had better be prepared to turn that gun on themselves next,” he growled. They’d had their chance to escape the camps he’d freed them from and they’d chosen otherwise. It was time to let them go.

The corpses made their first appearance on the road. Call led everyone up to the third floor then. “You’ll help us clear out in the morning,” he said to Lia, “I’ve got club business to deal with now. Why don’t you and Sunny find a spot to settle down for the night and I’ll join you later.”

He was in pain - she could see it in his eyes, in the way he moved, the way he winced and the way he tried to keep from limping. “You need to rest,” she said.

He nodded. “Soon.”

The girls chose a room at random and sat on the floor, their backs to the windows. There was very little moon peeking out from behind the clouds - she could barely see her hand in front of her face.

“I don’t even want to close my eyes,” Lia said. All she saw was blood when she did. The barrel of her gun and an explosion of red.

“I don’t think I can keep mine open,” Sunny replied, leaning her head on Lia’s shoulder. “You can talk, though. I’m listening.”

“No, that’s okay.” She patted her shoulder. “You sleep, friend.”

The girl’s soft snores did eventually lull her into a light, troubled sleep, but at least she had no dreams.

Call woke her just after sunrise. Sunny was already up and out of the room. He gently shook her shoulder and said her name until she opened her eyes and blinked at him. She was still so tired, but he looked worse. His stubble had practically become an all-out beard, his eyes were bloodshot and the lines around them were deep. “You didn’t sleep?” she asked.

He shook his head. “President sleeps last,” he said with a tight smile.

She loves him.
Sunny’s words echoed in her head as she looked up into his tired green eyes.
Stop. Get home alive first.
She wanted to kiss him, but in the state she was in she knew if she started she wouldn’t be able to stop. That or she’d end up collapsing into an emotionally wrecked heap of tears. She settled for drawing him close and pressing her cheek to his. She inhaled him as she hugged him tight, as if checking to make sure he was real.

“Want to shoot some corpses?” he asked, squeezing her and then standing. He audibly winced as he did and she jumped up to his side.

“You’re hurt.”

“Just bruised. Promise. Corpses?”

“How many?” She thought about conserving ammo. “Possible to knife them instead?”

“We’d better shoot a few, first.” He led her to the window in a room on the opposite side of the hall. It was practically a sea of the dead there in the parking lot, tripping over the fallen bikes, pressing in around the jeep. She sighed.

“That’s a lot of bullets.”

“I’ll find you more bullets,” he said with a smile. “The guys are gathering up on the roof. You go ahead. Show ‘em how it’s done.”
You want me to go ahead so I don’t watch you trying to climb the stairs.
But she went. The sooner they cleared the parking lot, the sooner they would be home.

◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙

Shooting the corpses wasn’t nearly as fun as Call had tried to make it sound, but thankfully they were on the road before noon and home before dark. He and another biker had to ride in the jeep with Lia and Sunny - many of the motorcycles were utterly trashed and some of the guys were forced to double up, shameful as they seemed to believe it was.

They had no choice but to leave their dead behind, in shallow graves with bullets between their eyes to keep them from rising. Thankfully their VP wasn’t amongst them, though he was badly injured - shot right in the knee.

Call wouldn’t let her check his injuries or do anything for him until they were finally alone in his apartment. He sat on the edge of the mattress and groaned as she helped him remove his shirt. She gasped - he was covered in dark and ugly bruises, such deep purples and reds as to almost look black. “Holy shit,” she breathed, tracing his ribs gently with her fingers.

“Looks worse than it is,” he said, though his voice was strained. “You guys caught up too soon for them to do any real damage. Promise.” He exhaled slowly as he lay back and she winced for him. Seeing him in pain made
her
hurt on the inside. She wanted to scream and to cry and to go back out after the Satan’s Remains men who had gotten away.

Instead she stretched out at his side, kissed him and stroked his hair. “I was so afraid I would never see you again,” she whispered.

He laughed, but it was a bitter sound. “And I was relieved. Despite everything, I knew you were safe. You were in my home, in my compound, guarded by my men…” He chuckled again. “I was waiting for them to walk me to my death. But there you were. You and that blond girl. Like angels of fucking wrath and vengeance.”

She smiled. “Angels of wrath and vengeance. I like that.”

He sighed. “We’re going to have a lot to do over the next few days. Another funeral. Replacing and repairing bikes. Moving the tanker. I know Dray didn’t talk, but…”

“Don’t need to explain. Just move it.”

“We also need to start scouting out a new place to live.” He cast his eyes at the ceiling as he said it, the pain obvious on his face. “This all went down way too close to the compound, and with the herd coming, it won’t be safe for much longer. We can’t just sit here and hope for the best. We can’t.”

“Shh,” she said. She kissed his cheek. “Sleep. All of that can wait until the morning. You’ve been through a lot, Call. Just sleep. I’ll be here.”

“Mmm,” he smiled, “My gun-toting guardian angel,” dozing off as Sunny’s words kept echoing in her mind.
She loves him.

No time for that. There’s too much to do, too many dangers, there’s no room for distractions.

But I think she was right. I think I love him. Shit.

Lia saw very little of him after the night of their return. As he’d said, there was a lot to be done. She kept herself as busy as she could while he was away working out the compound’s heap of problems. She split her time between her post on the wall and the garden in the back. Though what would happen to the garden if they moved, she didn’t know.

“I think we need to think about pots,” she told May. She didn’t want to alarm the woman but she didn’t want them to be caught unprepared, either.

May was smart, though, and immediately read into her innocent suggestion. “You’re thinking we need to be ready to move and take some plants with us.”

Lia shrugged and tried to play it off. “It was just a thought. What if we want to do some planting on the other side or like, what if someone wants their own?”

But the damage was done. She caught May arguing with Ripp not long after, gesturing and jabbing at the poor confused man.
I should have kept my mouth shut, this is going to start a panic!
May herself knew better than to spread such a rumor, though, and in the end they got their pots and no one else heard a thing about it.

Somehow, amidst her concerns for Call’s well-being and fears about the approaching herd, with the sense of dread that had fallen over the camp, she’d forgotten about the funeral. The bikers hadn’t forgotten though - they never would.

She hadn’t seen Call for nearly a week and was constantly fretting over it. He and a select group of his men had set out to move their tanker of gas. It was no small task to find a good place for the massive truck, never mind driving the thing once a spot was found. Roads were cluttered with debris, broken, overrun by vegetation and the dead. A good route was hard to come by. When word arrived of their imminent return, though, the camp exploded into action. The remaining Devil’s Ashes men put everyone to work preparing for the funeral night.
Party,
Lia reminded herself,
They honor the dead by throwing a party.

Torches were set up around the square as the day wore on. Jugs of moonshine and jars for drinking set up on tables at different corners. Makeshift tents, attempts at finger foods cobbled together with canned and jarred ingredients and whatever was edible from the garden, musical instruments - it felt more like a block party than a post-apocalyptic biker funeral.

Call and his men arrived home to cheers and applause just as the sun began to set. They looked momentarily confused before they took in the familiar scene, tired as they were after the challenging mission.

His eyes continuously sought her out and landed on her, but he was busy with the business of being president and answering people’s worries. She busied herself helping light the torches and pour jars of moonshine until he was finally able to break away.

Somehow he was able to sneak up behind her and wrap his arms around her while she was in the middle of filling and passing jars of the foul-smelling boozy liquid. “I’m sneaking you home as soon as the toasts are through,” he breathed in her ear as she leaned back into his embrace.