Judgment Day -03 (20 page)

He tightened the pipe cutter and began sliding it around the barrel, occasionally retightening it to keep the cutting wheel pressed into the metal. After a couple of minutes, the end of the barrel cut free and fell to the floor with a loud
clang
.

“Now, we dress it up a little to get rid of any burrs or sharp edges.” He ran the file around the lip a couple of times and then spent a few minutes with the emery cloth smoothing everything out. When he was finished, he loosened up the vise and lifted out the shotgun.

“What do you think?” he asked, holding it up.

“Very manly.”

He grinned. “Come closer and I’ll show you how this gun works.”

“I already have a gun,” she said, stepping closer.

“I know, and the .22 rifle is perfect for you, as you’ve already proven. But there may come a time when you need a little more stopping power.”

She surprised him by not arguing the point.

“We load it exactly like we did the other shotgun, only this one has a button underneath that needs to be pressed when you insert the shells. See?” He pressed a large silver button beside the feed ramp.

She nodded.

“Once you load it, pull the bolt handle back, and let it fly forward. That moves the first shell into the chamber.”

“Seems easy enough.”

“Show me.” He handed her the sawed-off shotgun.

“It’s heavy,” she said, hefting it with both hands.

“Yes, and it will probably knock you on your butt if you ever have to fire it. But it’ll also get the attention of whatever you’re shooting at.”

He handed her the shotgun shells one at a time, and she loaded four. The last one was hard for her to push up the feed ramp, but she finally got it. She pulled the bolt handle back and let it slide forward.

“Now, top it off,” he said.

She slid one more into the magazine tube.

“The difference between this weapon and the one I had before is that this one feeds the next shell automatically. That means that when you pull the trigger, it automatically ejects and chambers a new shell.”

“You don’t pump it?”

“Nope.”

“Why wouldn’t they make every shotgun like that? Isn’t it faster?”

“You bet it is. But autoloaders are more likely to jam than pump shotguns.”

“Ah,” she said. “Makes sense.”

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s take it outside and shoot a few shells. While we’re at it, I’ll let you try out the Bearcat too. If you’re going to stay alive, you’ll need to know your way around guns.”

As they turned to leave the garage, Samantha noticed a pillowcase sitting on the floor beside one of the garage doors. It was stuffed full and tied closed with a bright orange ribbon.

“What do you think that is?”

Tanner nudged the makeshift sack with his boot. It felt heavy. He untied the ribbon and saw that there were dozens of cans of food inside, as well as several bottles of water. He lifted out a can of chicken noodle soup and held it up for her to see.

“It’s not Froot Loops, but it’ll fill your belly.”

Samantha came over and started rummaging through the pillowcase. She pulled out a can of yellow peaches.

“This wouldn’t be too bad,” she said. “Should I go back inside and see if I can find a can opener?”

“No need,” he said. “There are plenty of ways to open a can.”

She looked around the shop.

“Like how? With tools?”

“Sure, tools would cut the cans open. But I’ll show you another method that doesn’t require anything more than a little concrete.” He squatted down and placed the can of soup, top-side down, on the concrete floor. “The edge of a can is nothing more than a flap of rolled steel. If you rub it against concrete or a smooth rock, you can abrade it away and get into the can.”

“Is this another one of your survival tricks?” she asked, her face coming alive.

He shrugged. “If you want to call it that.”

“Okay, show me. I want to learn all the tricks.”

“Here goes.” He started scrubbing the can back and forth on the floor, sending dust up into the air. After about thirty seconds, liquid started leaking out onto the concrete. “When you see the liquid, you’re getting close.”

He continued for another few seconds, and then slipped his finger under the can and turned it right side up. He gave the sides of the can a gentle squeeze, and part of the metal lid popped up.

“Wow!” she exclaimed. “You did it!”

He pulled the lid the rest of the way off, and the smell of salty chicken immediately began to permeate the garage. Tanner tipped the can and dumped some of the soup into his mouth.

“Now you try,” he said, talking through a mouthful of noodles.

“Okay, but I probably won’t be able to do it.”

“So says the girl who shot four men and outran an army of satanic worshippers.”

She set the can on the floor and began sliding it around, imitating what Tanner had done. It took about a minute before liquid started seeping out.

“Hey, I’m getting it.”

“Give it a little longer, and then use your fingers to make sure the lid doesn’t fall off.”

She did exactly as he said, and when she flipped the can back up, the lid had drooped down into the can. She tipped the can forward and gave it a little shake to get the lid to pop out. Then she pulled it the rest of the way off and smiled as she looked down at a can full of tender yellow cling peaches.

Breakfast was served.

With a pillowcase full of canned food and bottled water, Tanner and Samantha were able to turn their attention to putting miles behind them. They decided to steer clear of the interstates, except when absolutely necessary. Instead, they stayed on the North Scenic Highway, paralleling I-77, all the way to the East River Mountain Tunnel.

The huge gray and white concrete structure reached forty feet into the air and had two lanes going east and two others going west, with a thick dividing wall between them. All four lanes were jam-packed with cars, many of them crashed into one another. A few had caught fire and were nothing more than blackened metal shells.

“Please tell me we’re not going in there,” she said.

“What? You mean you don’t want to crawl around cars filled with dead bodies in a pitch-black tunnel?” he asked, grinning.

“Uh, no.”

“Me neither. What do you say we double-back and pick up Highway 598?”

As he started to wheel the truck around, he caught sight of a long string of motorcycle headlights approaching from behind.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he sighed.

“What?” She spun around. “Oh no, it’s them again.”

Tanner grabbed his shotgun and the bandolier of ammunition. He stuck the Bearcat in the back of his waistband and the Kahr PM9 in his front pocket.

“Come on,” he said. “We’ve got to get out of sight.”

“But where?” Samantha asked, scrambling out of the truck with her rifle, and staring up at the steep slopes that rose along both sides of the road.

Tanner looked toward the tunnel.

“Please, no,” she pleaded. “It’s so dark.”

“I’d rather take my chance in the dark than with twenty pissed-off bikers. Come on.”

He took off for the tunnel, and after hesitating for a moment, Samantha followed. They ran about thirty yards into the tunnel and took cover behind a car.

“It smells awful in here,” she said, trying to talk without breathing through her nose.

He took a deep sniff.

“It’s not so bad.”

She wrinkled her nose up.

“It smells like—”

“Dead bodies?”

She nodded. “Lots and lots of them.”

He couldn’t argue the point. There were several hundred cars in the tunnel, most of which had bodies either in or near them. There were enough cadavers to fill a small graveyard.

The sound of engines grew louder, and they peeked up over the top of the car to get a better look. The gang came to stop a few feet outside the tunnel. Once again, they started revving their engines for a little fun. The noise echoed down the tunnel, vibrating windows. When they finally tired of the game, they killed their engines and pulled off their helmets to enjoy a few cigarettes.

Samantha pointed toward the man wearing the distinctive Predator helmet.

“It’s him,” she whispered.

Tanner nodded. “He and I have unfinished business.”

“Do you think they’ll come in after us?”

“Nah. They probably didn’t even see us.”

Predator slipped off his helmet and set it on the seat behind him. The man’s huge mustache and sideburns were almost as distinctive as his helmet. He glanced around, and his eyes settled on the old pickup that Tanner had been driving.

“It’s just an old truck,” whispered Tanner. “Let it be.”

Ignoring his silent suggestion, Predator dismounted, walked over to it, and placed a hand on the hood. Alarmed, he slowly spun in a full circle, searching the area, his eyes finally settling on the tunnel. He shouted something to his men, and they scrambled for their weapons.

“They know we’re here,” Tanner said softly.

A horrific scream suddenly sounded from deep inside the tunnel. It was inhuman, like the sound a grizzly might make if its foot had been caught in a steel jaw-trap.   

Samantha flinched and grabbed Tanner’s arm.

“What was that?” she whispered.

He looked over his shoulder, peering into the darkness.

“I think they woke something up.”

“
Something?
Not someone?”

He shrugged. “It sounded more like a something.”

Still clutching his arm, she said, “When I was little, my mom used to read stories to me—Curious George, Pippi Longstocking, Winnie the Pooh—kid’s stuff, you know?”

“And?”

“And I remember that, in one story, there was a creature so terrible that even its name made everyone shake with fear. It was called the Backson.” She shivered, pointing down into the dark tunnel. “That scream is what I imagine a Backson would sound like.”

“Whatever it is, I agree that it’s probably trouble. But that,” he said, pointing at the bandits who were slowly approaching the tunnel, “is most definitely trouble.”

She sighed. “We’re between a rock and a hard place.”

“A what?”

“A rock and a hard place. It means both options are bad.”

“I know what it means,” he said, grinning. “I was just surprised that you got it right.”

She cut her eyes at him.

“So? What are we going to do?”

“We do like we always do,” he said. “We pick the hard place.”

The tunnel was so dark that it was more like an abandoned iron mine than a passage for interstate travelers. The floor sloped down, and until they got to the bottom, it would be impossible to see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.

A thunderous boom sounded from inside the tunnel entrance. They glanced back and saw Predator standing on the hood of an abandoned car. He held Tanner’s .44 Magnum revolver above his head like a sign of his manhood.

“Come on out, or we’re coming in to get you.”

Tanner considered taking a shot at him but decided he was probably out of range of the sawed-off shotgun, and most certainly out of range of either pistol. He could use Samantha’s rifle, but it didn’t seem worth the risk of giving away their position. Right now, Predator only suspected that someone was in the tunnel. Besides, thought Tanner, he was probably bluffing about coming in after them. Better to heed Samantha’s advice and walk away whenever possible.

Daylight shone in from the entrance, but it only reached twenty or thirty yards into the tunnel. Tanner figured that he and Samantha had already disappeared into the darkness, but just to be sure, he continued another twenty yards in before standing up to give his legs a rest.

“We’re clear,” he said softly.

Samantha slowly stood up.

“Do you think they’ll come in after us?”

He was about to reassure her that they wouldn’t when he saw Predator and three of his men enter the tunnel.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “They’ll never find us in here.”

He turned around to look deeper into the tunnel. It was complete and total darkness. If they were to have any hope of making it to the other side, they would need to feel their way forward. His biggest concern was losing Samantha.

Tanner looked around and saw the body of a man crumpled against the wall of the tunnel. He hurried over and unlaced one of the dead man’s boots.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

He tied one end of the shoestring to his belt loop and the other end to one of hers.

“Keep the string taut, and don’t lose your pants.”

“Lose my pants?”

“Just stating the obvious.”

“You are so weird sometimes.”

“It’s why we get along so well. Now, come on.”

Samantha stayed a few feet behind him as they slowly delved deeper into the tunnel. Before long, they were no longer able to see one other. They could hear each other breathe, or bump into a car, or stumble over a dead body, but everything was now surrounded by impenetrable darkness.