Z-Burbia 7: Sisters of the Apocalypse (16 page)

More fencing goes down and I can see tent flaps opening up behind the carnage. Women are running out into the dark and Doyles are torn between going for us or going after the women. They go after the women, probably because some parts of their lizard brains know that there's no reason to fight us if they lose all their ladies.

I put four Doyles down and Jack puts down six before we hit the broken and mangled fences. I jump over scorched razor wire and point my M-4 up at the center watchtower once I reach the perimeter. Three shots and two Doyles come falling down to the ground. One splats open like a melon. The other gets impaled on a jagged tube of a fence post.

That makes me happy.

Women are screaming and running around ahead of us, but we still have a lot more Doyles to deal with. Jack spins to his left and takes down three Doyles while I push on ahead and blow the chests open of two more.

A bullet whizzes past my head and I dive to the ground, rolling up into a kneeling stance. I turn in the direction of the shooter and put two rounds into his chest then focus past him and drop another Doyle with a shot to the forehead. I may not be the best shot of the sisters, but I sure as shitfuck ain't bad.

I'm up on my feet again and getting close to a tent when about ten Doyles come out at me. I open fire and leap to my left, hoping I can take cover by a portable outhouse. Long Pork would've made some joke about taking shitter cover, but I ain't Long Pork, so I just get behind the outhouse and empty my magazine at the Doyles.

Four fall, but six are still firing and rushing towards me. Then two drop, one after the other, as their chests turn into mist while I slap a fresh magazine into my carbine.

"I got you, El!" Audrey shouts over the com. "Get your ass up and head for the second tent from your right! The sisters are in there!"

I get up and do what Audrey says as she rips apart two more Doyles. The last two get the hint and dive to the ground. I put a bullet in the backs of their heads as I sprint past them. Stupid fucking Doyles.

Second tent on my right, second tent on my right...there! Second tent on my right!

I burst through the flap and I feel the punch of a bullet nail me in the right thigh. I'm on the ground fast, more from instinct than from the impact. My M-4 decimates the Doyle that shot me, just shreds him.

There's a muffled shout as I get to my feet and I whirl about and use my carbine like a club, smacking a Doyle in the nuts as he rushes me from outside the tent. I flip the barrel back at him and fire, sending a round up under his chin and through his face. His skull explodes and I end up with Doyle all over me.

"Fuck you," I spit as I back away from him.

No more Doyles come in at me, so I turn fast, sling my M-4, and pull a knife from my belt. I have Marcie cut free before I even realize she's the only one in the tent. No Antoinette.

"Where?" I ask.

"I don't know," Marcie yells as I hand her the M-4 and pull my .45s from their holsters. "They took her right after dinner. Didn't say anything, just came in here and grabbed her. I got a hard knock to the face when I protested."

I can see the knot on her left cheek, but she's smiling at me.

"You protest by hurting one of them?" I ask.

"Broke the fucker's kneecap," Marcie says as she checks the carbine and then snags two extra magazines from my belt. "He cried like a little girl."

"Probably worse," I say. "Because little girls don't cry where we come from."

"Damn fucking skippy," she says and looks down at my leg. "How bad is it?"

I stretch my leg and wince, but nod to her.

"Ain't that bad," I say. "Didn't hit anything serious and it was in and out. I'll feel it later, but it'll hold me for now."

"Don't bleed out on me," she says and starts for the tent flaps.

Before we can get more than a couple of steps, the sides of the tent are ripped apart by gunfire. We hit the ground and return fire as we belly crawl our way to the flaps. Two of the tent posts snap and half the tent comes tumbling down just as we get outside. A couple of Doyles are standing right there, looking pleased with themselves. I think they forgot their job was to kill us, not the tent. Fucking idiot Doyles.

I let Marcie put a few rounds in their bellies and crotches. There's a lot of Doyle blood flying everywhere as they dance and shudder before falling to the ground screaming like little Doyles.

There's also a lot of lady blood flying everywhere. The women running from their tents are getting chopped apart by stupid fucking Doyles shooting at anything that moves. We have them so spooked that they're firing at anyone with tits. I don't think they've figured out that Jack is a guy and doesn't have tits. Maybe that'll give him some camouflage.

Marcie helps me up and we take down six Doyles before we have to dodge between two tents to avoid getting our asses blown off as some crazy Doyle with a sawed-off shotgun comes running at us. I may hate his shitfucking guts and want to blow his shitfucking head off, but I do like his shitfucking style. Running mad wild with a sawed-off shotgun firing non-stop is pretty badass.

He chases after us and bits of tent explode around us like confetti as we race to the other row of tents. We get to the next row and run right into Jack. He almost blows our heads off, but stops himself then shoves me out of the way as a tent pole bursts apart. He puts two slugs in the sawed-off Doyle and that is that.

"Jack!" he shouts at Marcie.

"Marcie!" she shouts back.

"Elsbeth!" I shout because no one else was going to. That's totally a Long Pork move and I get a glare from Marcie for it.

"Where's the other one?" Jack asks as we get moving again.

"Don't know!" Marcie says. "They took her!"

"Shit!" Jack says. "How about my daughter? Kimmy? Do you know where she is?"

"Ask her where the main tent is," Audrey yells into our ears.

"Where's the main tent?" I ask.

"This way!" Marcie shouts. She eyes me then looks at my ear. "Who else do you have with you?"

"Audrey," I say as we start running as fast as we can. Or as fast as I can. My leg is slowing us down. "She's alive."

"I had a feeling," Marcie says.

She spins and takes down three Doyles with a wide spray of bullets. Normally, that's frowned upon because it wastes ammo, but you gotta do what you gotta do when you're in a firefight in a Doyle breeding farm. We make the rules up as we go.

More Doyles go down, but so do more women. I don't know how we'll wrangle them all up and get them out of here. They're as scared of us as they are of the Doyles. Some of the women are running to the Doyles for help. It's sad as shit.

We reach what looks like the largest of the tents and Marcie skids to a halt. We all skid to a halt. I more stutter to a halt because skidding hurts my leg, but I stop.

Standing at the tent opening is a whole bunch of Doyles and a woman right between them. The woman sees Jack and her eyes go wide. Then they narrow and she raises a very big pistol at us. I ain't shitting you. It's a very big fucking pistol.

"Kill them!" she yells and pulls the trigger.

Chapter Sixteen

I take out the left Doyles, Marcie takes out the right Doyles, Jack ignores the big fucking pistol and dives right for the woman, tackling her around the waist. There's a scream behind us and I have an idea the big fucking pistol's slug found a target. It ain't the original target, but I don't think the big fucking pistol gives a shit.

With my Doyles down, I drop to a knee and spin about to give Marcie cover while she finishes off hers. One of the bastards won't die, just keeps getting up and trying to point his rifle at her. Asshole Doyle. Just die already.

Finally, she puts one between his eyes and he stays down.

"Took ya bit," I shout over my shoulder.

"Body armor under his shirt," Marcie calls back and joins me. We start killing anything without tits that looks our direction.

I can hear the crack, crack, crack of the Barrett dropping unlucky Doyles here and there. Audrey is making her shots count. A group of Doyles rounds one of the tents and freeze as they walk directly into our line of fire. Okay, they don't freeze, really. Hard to freeze when you're getting ripped apart by bullets. They dance. Dance like little bloody monkeys.

A second group comes around the tent and uses the first dancing bloody monkey group for cover. Stupid fucking Doyles using other Doyles to keep from getting ripped apart by my bullets. Dicks.

The Barrett cracks three times, and just before I hear each crack, I see a Doyle head turn into splashy mush. Splat go the Doyle heads. They may be stupid fucking Doyles, but they have a lot of brain stuffs that fly everywhere. Just everywhere. It's all over the place. Doyle brains is messy.

The second group of Doyles splits into two smaller groups. One group turns to see who is blowing their heads off and the other group rushes me and Marcie, their rifles barking fire at us as they charge. Marcie shoves me out of the way as a line of slugs tears open the dirt between us. I roll to my side and keep firing until my magazine is empty.

I grab a fresh magazine and slap it home. Then I jump to my feet to take some cover by the side of the tent. I fall on my ass. I forgot I'd been shot in the leg. Totally forgot. Adrenaline and all that stuff is pumping in me hard and pain is just a stupid thing. My leg doesn't hurt, but it has decided it doesn't want to work like it should. Stupid fucking leg.

There's a shout and a grunt from behind us and I glance back quick to see Jack go sprawling on the ground as his daughter whacks him upside the head with the butt of her pistol. Like I said, it's a big fucking pistol. I wouldn't want to get whacked upside the head with it. That would hurt like a mofo.

Daughter bitch takes aim and is gonna pull the trigger, but she hesitates as Jack rolls onto his back, his hands to his head, blood gushing from his scalp. She scrunches up her face and bares her teeth like a rabid dog. I think I see foam. She's a foamy bitch.

"Put it down or I put you down!" I yell. Seems like the right thing to say.

"No!" Jack shouts at me and holds up a bloody hand. "Don't you fucking dare shoot her!"

Foamy daughter bitch turns to look at me and her scrunchy face turns into a smiley face. She whips the pistol around at me and I have no choice. She isn't going to hesitate with me. That big fucking pistol will blow a hole right through some Elsbeth.

I fire.

The bullet tags her in the left shoulder, spinning her away from me as she fires. A hunk of dirt kicks up by my face and I look over to see a hole about half a foot wide and just as deep. Big fucking pistol.

Jack forces himself to get up and jump at his daughter before she can regroup. He kicks the pistol from her hand then grabs her by the arm and drags her inside the tent. Not that the tent gives any cover. Canvas and shit ain't gonna stop all the bullets flying around, but it keeps him and his foamy daughter bitch from being direct targets. Although, I guess foamy daughter bitch isn't really a target.

"El!" Marcie shouts as she keeps firing, sending Doyle after Doyle to Doyle Hell. "You okay?"

"I'm good," I reply and crawl my ass over to her. Her rifle clicks empty and I hand her mine. "Take it. I'll reload."

We're exposed, but Doyles are stupid idiots. They hide behind tents, thinking they have cover. They don't. Marcie shoots right through the tents. Doyles scream.

I reload Marcie's rifle as mine clicks empty. She takes the rifle and tosses me mine. I'm out of magazines. Time for .45s.

I pull my pistols and whip them to my left as five Doyles come from that direction at us. I hear a shout and look right and see four more. Marcie has our front covered and Jack has our back from the tent. That leaves the sides to me. I point a .45 left and point one right then open up.

Three of the five Doyles on my left fall before the other two realize they probably shouldn't keep running at me. They dive to the ground and cover their heads. Cowards.

All four on my right end up with slugs in them. Two die because the slugs take a liking to their foreheads. One lies there all whiny and shit, his hands clutching his gut. The fourth one is screaming and screaming. I think I caught him in the junk. He's screaming and bleeding everywhere like I caught him in the junk, so I probably did. Bummer for him.

The two cowards on my left decide they have guts. I decide to show them they are right and empty my .45 into their bellies. They both get to see their guts first hand. Or try. They can't seem to keep the guts in their hands as their intestines and shit tumble through their fingers to the ground.

He he. Intestines and shit. That's funny. Intestines have shit in them. He he.

"I'm on the move," Audrey calls over the com. "This side is clear of Doyles. You want me to come in and help clean up?"

"Yeah," I say. "I took one in the leg and can't move so well. Wish Antoinette was here to patch me up."

"Where is she?" Audrey asks.

"Marcie don't know," I say. "They took her."

"I'm coming in," she replies. "Do you have a fallback position with cover?"

"Nothing but tents," I say.

About half a dozen women come screaming into view, their arms over their heads, hunks of wood and tent poles raised. I forget to keep talking to Audrey as I watch them brain the fuck out of some Doyles. They just start hitting and hitting. Tent poles is scary when they're used like clubs. The Doyles find that out the hard way.

"Holy shit," Marcie says, lowering her rifle as the remaining Doyles get their skulls cracked like walnuts. "Damn."

There are a few more shouts from Doyles, but the voices are getting farther away, not closer. The Barrett cracks a couple of times then I hear an M-4 squeeze off a few even bursts. Audrey must already be in the farm and mopping up the last few Doyles.

The crazy club ladies look over at us and I can tell they ain't sure if we're friends or foes. I'd like to be friends, but they are some scary-looking bitches and I'm not sure how friendly they want to be to me and Marcie.

"We're here to help," Marcie calls out as she holds her rifle out to the side. "We want to get you all out of here."

They just stand there, covered in Doyle brains and goop, and stare at us. I move my .45s so I have clear shots. Marcie waves a hand at me as the ladies' eyes shift to me.

"Put those away," Marcie says.

Two shots from a rifle ring out and a puff of dirt hits the ground by the ladies. They whirl around then take off running at the Doyle that shot at them. He just stands there between a couple of tents with his mouth open. I can see his hands working the action on his rifle, but looks like tough shit for him. It's obviously jammed and his hands get more and more frantic as the ladies get closer and closer.

"Fuck," Marcie says and winces as they reach him.

He's a pile of pulp in seconds.

"Hey!" Jack calls from the tent. "You two okay?"

"We're good," I say and carefully get to my feet. My leg throbs and almost collapses, but I snarl at it and it behaves enough for me to limp towards the tent. "You good?"

"I'm good," Jack says, showing himself in the tent opening. His hair is matted with blood and half his face is sticky and red. He sees me eyeing him and smiles. "It's worse than it looks, trust me."

"If you say so," I reply and shrug. "You got your daughter secured?"

"As much as I can without being a cruel son of a bitch," Jack says. He winces, but it ain't from the pain in his head. It's a sad wince. "She says she thinks I'm the enemy and that the Doyles saved her from me."

"Her brain is washed," I say. "We need to dirty it up."

He smiles and shakes his head.

"You are one trip of a woman," he says.

"I am," I nod.

There's a whistle from our right and Jack lifts a pistol, but I wave him off as Audrey comes jogging up to us.

"That was too easy," Audrey says.

"Fuck you it was," I say and point at my leg.

"You fucking up and getting shot doesn't mean it wasn't too easy," Audrey says and grins at me. "Just means you don't know how to get out of the way of a bullet."

"Bitch, you want me to punch you in the ribs?" I laugh.

The club ladies are done turning the Doyle into paste and turn back to look at us. Marcie is standing and waving at them.

"Hey there," she says. "We're going to load you all up in the trucks and get you somewhere safe. Can you help us find the other women?"

The ladies stare. None of them move. They just stand there with bloody, pulpy clubs in their hands and stare. I'm getting tired of the stare.

"El, let me handle this," Marcie says before I can say something stupid and scare the ladies. Marcie knows me.

"You can help me," Jack says. "Maybe one of you can get through to her."

"I'll let El handle it," Audrey says looking at my leg. "She needs the rest."

"You're loving this, ain't ya?" I ask. "Now I'm more wounded than you."

Audrey pats her side. I see she don't do it too hard, though. "Feeling fit and ready to keep killing. You?"

"I ain't running no marathons, but I can handle myself," I say.

"Sure you can," Audrey snorts.

"Hey," Marcie growls. "Can you two measure dicks somewhere else? I'm trying to talk to these ladies."

"I'll help," Audrey says. "Some of them saw me here. They don't know El."

I nod to her and follow Jack inside the tent. His daughter is tied to one of the tent poles, her shoulder packed with a towel and wrapped with duct tape.

"That'll work," I say as I eye the crude bandage. "Hey there, Kimmy. I'm Elsbeth. Came here with your dad to save you. You want to be saved or not?"

"Maybe a more gentle approach," Jack says. "Woman to woman stuff."

"You asked for my help," I say, "and I don't do gentle. I also don't do woman to woman. What the fuck is that? Ain't no different talking man to woman or woman to man or man to man or—"

"I get it, I get it," Jack says. He crouches close to Kimmy, but out of kicking range. "Kimmy? Baby? I am here to help you."

She spits in his face. It's nasty runner of a glob. He wipes it away and looks back over his shoulder at me.

"See?" he says.

"See what?" I ask and limp over to Kimmy. I plop my ass down right next to her, my shoulder pressing against her shoulder. She winces as I lean hard against her wound. "You don't believe the Doyles is right."

She slowly turns her head and glares at me. "You don't know what I believe," she says. "You don't know a damn thing about me."

"I think I do," I say.

"Doyle saved me," Kimmy says. "He kept me safe from the savages that live out in the wasteland. He kept me fed and clothed and happy."

"By putting his dick in you and making you pregnant with his shitty Doyle spawn," I reply. Jack winces. Tough shit. He's gonna have to face this shit sooner than later. "Did you want him to? No. Did he do it anyway? Yeah. Because Doyles are fucking assholes. He didn't save you from shit. He took you captive and used you. Washed your brain and made you trust him."

"We are in love," she says.

"Oh, for tit's sake, no you ain't," I say and laugh. "That's the washed brain talking. You don't know a fucking thing about love."

"I know everything about—" she starts, but stops as I jam my shoulder into hers. "Ow!"

"Yeah, shut the fuck up," I say and pat her on the leg. I point at Jack. "See this guy? This guy knows love. He's been watching and trying to figure out a way in for a long time now. He ain't never given up on you."

"He gave up," she says, but it's quiet.

"Nope," I say and shake my head. "Nope. He knows love. He's a daddy. Daddies know love. Real love. Love that aches and burns and makes you want to rip apart the world."

"Doyle loves me like that," Kimmy says.

"He does?" I laugh some more. "Where is Doyle? The real Doyle. The first Doyle. Where is this guy, huh? He hanging out around here? Or did he leave you to go be safe in town?"

"We share duties," Kimmy says. "The farm is mine to run. That's how much he trusts me. You don't trust someone with this responsibility unless there's love."