'Til Death Do Us Part (20 page)

“
Would you mind if I drove?
”
BT asked.

“
Have you seen the size of you? You can
carry this thing if you want to,
”
Gary told him.

“
No…
seriously, I haven
’
t driven in a very long time.
Without
any traffic on the roadway I should be alright.
”

“
Well doesn
’
t that just make me feel
all confident in your abilities,
”
Mrs. Deneaux said. She was silent for a moment as she cocked her head.

Gary pulled over to the shoulder, BT got out to walk around the car as Gary scooted across the seats.

“
Do you hear that
?
”
s
he
asked from the back seat
, as they got rolling again with BT at the helm
.

BT couldn
’
t hear anything over the churning of the Pinto
’
s engine. Gary rolled down his window and stuck
his head out much like an over eager Golden retriever;
so much so, BT felt the need to grab Gary
’
s jeans by the waist line.

“
I
’
m not going to fall out,
”
Gary told him.

“
Not now you
’
re n
ot,
”
BT told him, with one hand on the wheel.
“
This car is all over the road.
Driving
this thing is like the
Flight of the Bumblebee
.
”

“
BT
,
you have culture?
”
Deneaux
asked.

“
I don
’
t get it?
”
Gary asked as he pulled his head in.

“
It
’
s part of an opera,
”
BT explained.

“
Like the rock opera
Tommy
from The Who?
”
Gary asked.

“
Something like that,
”
BT answered.

Deneaux
scoffed.

BT glanced up into the rear
view mirror
, mostly wishing he hadn
’
t.
“
Motorcycles.
”

Gar
y stuck his head out the window
nearly as far as he had the first time.
“
Coincidence?
”
Gary asked coming back in.

“
You do know you could have just turned around while inside the car
and have
seen them, right?
”
Deneaux
asked cynically.

“
What do you think?
”
BT asked Gary, ignoring
Deneaux
’
s
remark.

“
Any chance this thing can go faster?
”
Gary asked, finally heeding Deneaux
’
s advice and looking through the rear windshield. 

“
I could probably pu
sh the pedal through the rusted-out floor
board
,
but I don
’
t know if that would make it go any faster. Plus
,
if the
CV
j
oints in the front end are gone and
I go any faster
,
we hit a bump
and
we
’
ll catch air…
then we
’
ll be screwed,
”
BT said.

“
I think we already are,
”
Gary said
, sitting back in his seat
making sure that his rifle was fully loaded.
“
There
’
s seven of them.
”

“
I don
’
t remember seeing zombies in any of the
Mad Max
movies,
”
BT said grimly.

Gary looked over at his friend;
Deneaux
for once was silen
t not able to think up a retort
.

“
Mad Max
.
”
BT
said
again as if that
short statement
would explain everything.

Gary shrugged his shoulders.

“
Come on
, man, it was a classic. A post-apocalyptic world? H
ad a shitload of ca
r chase scenes with motorcycles?
”

“
Okay,
”
Gary said.
“
So?
”

“
There
were no zombies in those movies
is all I
’
m saying. How many dangers should we have to face on any given day?
We
’
ve got zombies, vampires, rednecks and now a biker gang. Enough is enough already!
”
BT yelled as he slammed his fist down on the steering wheel.

The car pitched hard to the left.

“
How about not breaking our ride,
”
Mrs.
Deneaux
snapped
.
“
Our friends are getting closer.
”

“
You don
’
t say?
”
BT said sarcastically.
“
I figured at
fifty
miles per hour I
’
d be able to lose them.

“
Really?
”
Gary asked.
“
How fast do motorcycles go?
”

Deneaux
rolled down her window.
“
It came down to you or Shortie, I wonder if I chose correctly.
”
She answered
.

“
We
’
re not entirely sure if they
’
re the bad guys,
”
Gary said hopefully. The timing was impecc
able as his side view mirror ble
w apart into fragments.

“
I
guess that solves that dilemma,
”
Mrs.
Deneaux
said as she stuck her head out the window.

BT hoped a particularly large breeze would catch her and carry her out of the car. At least that was what he was thinking up until her first shot
caught one of the rapidly approaching motorcyclists. The motorcycle
’
s front wheel violently cut back and forth until the bike flipped over itself, the rider skidded along the ground and was still.
The
remaining six
,
instead of backin
g off, came up even faster. Gun
fire peppered the back of the small car.

Deneaux
pulled her head in, a
look of smug satisfaction across her features as she along with the other occupants in the car ducked down.
Glass shattered
,
and the sound of metal being
punctured
dominated above all else.

“
Isn
’
t the Pinto the car that used to catch on fire!
”
Gary yelled.

“
They have automatic weapons!
”
Deneaux yelled
. S
he had tried to poke her head up to get some shots off
,
but the suppressive fire from their pursuers was too intense. They drove a few more miles like th
at
.
T
he rear end of the car had become so riddled with holes as to become nearly non-existent.

BT
knew it was only a matter of time before bullets made their way into the car
,
then they
’
d go out much lik
e the infamous Bonnie and Clyde—
in a hail of bullets. He began searching for something, anything to help them out of their predicament. The gang was keeping a respectable distance of around
twenty-five
yards
,
but it would be sooner rather than later when they became emboldened enough to come alongside and finish them off.

“
Hold on!
”
BT yelled, not really giving anyone enough time to prepare as he took a hard left, n
ever slowing. The car screeched
like a white trash woman who
’d
realized her man had j
ust got
ten
another woman pregnant. If BT had not been fighting for their lives to hold the car onto the dirt roadway
,
he would have found great mirth in
Deneaux’s
futile efforts to pull herself away from her door. The car bounced and jostled, a loud twanging signaling the death throes of one or more of the rusted out leaf springs. The wheel whipped back and forth in BT
’
s hands;
trees came dangerously close to ending the
group’s
forward momentum.

A large leafy branch struck Gary against the side of the fac
e as he tried to pull back
further into the car
. Gun
fire was still erupting from the bikers
,
but it had become more sporadic as they fell back, the choking dust of the dirt road having the desired effect.
BT did not think the old Ford would be able to take m
uch more of the pounding the surface offered
,
but his choices were limited at the moment.

“
Take the next right!
”
Mrs. Deneaux shouted.

BT didn
’
t know how she could see anything from her vantage point but he did as she said.

“
Now stop!
”
s
he
practically
shrieked.

BT thought she might have seen a tree up ahead, he laid on the brakes which
,
of all the mechanical things on the car
,
seemed the least likely to fail. The car came to an abrupt stop just as the roar of motorcycle engines was almost on top of them.

“
What now?
”
Gary asked.

“
Quiet,
”
Mrs.
Deneaux
said
through clenched teeth
as dust settled all around them.
“
Take your damned foot off of the brake you
’
re going to give us away.
”
She extracted herself from the car quickly.

“
Nice we
’
ll just let them race on by
,
then we
’
ll get out of here,
”
Gary said enthusiastically.

The first motorcycle raced
past
the Pinto
’
s detour before Mrs.
Deneaux
started firing. Gary threw his hands up to his ears, unprepared for the noise of the reports.

“
What are you doing
,
you crazy old fuck?
”
BT shouted.
“
They would have driven right past!
”

“
For what…
another
hundred
yards before they figured we weren
’
t up ahead?
”
s
he answered between shots.

After Gary recovered from the initial shock
,
he opened his door and grabbed his rifle. At least one motorcyclist had met his demise
,
and the rest still didn
’
t know what was happening through the kicked
up dust. Gary fired three shots—
the last of which caught the front of the motorcycle or possibly the driver
,
either way the driver planted
his bike into the nearest tree.
The
gang banger behind him had been following too closely and crashed also. He was not dead
,
but his cries of pain
most likely put him out of this battle.