Z-Day Chapter 14 (Will)

I heard the sound of a door sliding and then slamming shut, I grabbed one of the straps of my pack, which was on the floor next to me, and took a step back.

“Was that a van door?” I said, not speaking to anyone in particular.

“I think so,” said Austin with a hand on the holstered Mare’s Leg.

“We should probably get the hell out of here,” said Jack.

I nodded then pulled my pack on, grabbed the twin-barrel and shoved it into my back holster; Austin picked up the duffel and headed towards the fire exit; Jack cocked his SPAS-12 and walked after him; everyone else grabbed their respective gear and guns and headed for the door as well. I pulled the Python from its holster and walked over to the door, still looking behind me. Out the display window I could see leather clad men getting off their motorcycles, and in a few cases, climbing out of a black van.

Austin pushed open the door with his shoulder and we all walked out into the cold air. Austin checked around the corner then looked back at the group of us, who were all in a line along the wall.

“There’s at least thirty guys out there,” he said, “this isn’t gonna be easy.”

I said, “There’s no way we can fight all of them, and I don’t think it’ll be easy for all four of us to hide until they leave.”

“Yeah,” sounds Taylor, “we should try to get to the car then drive outta here.”

“Well,” I said, “we could steal their car, I mean, Austin was saying we needed a new one.”

“That could work, but how are we going to do that?” said Austin.

“We could go up there and take the van while they’re raiding the gunshop. I’m sure they’re in a hurry, so they may just leave the keys in the ignition.”

“But how are the four of us going to sneak up there?” said Jack.

“Very quietly,” Austin said, “now let’s go.”

We stalked over behind our car, all of us staying low to the ground, then looked out. The bikers were headed into the gunshop, all thirty-something of them, except for the driver. Austin said that one person had to sneak up and take out the driver, and he elected me because I “log 21 hours of gameplay in Metal Gear Solid everyday.”

Really wishing that somebody stronger, more dexterous, and overall better at killing than I could take my place, I stalked up to the sliding door on the side, then the driver side door opened and  I quickly darted to the back of the van. I heard the door slam shut and the sound of boots  walking across the broken parking lot. I peered around the corner, the driver stopped at the bushes at the right edge of the parking lot, and a yellow stream darted down between his legs.

“Better time than any,” I said to myself then flicked open my butterfly knife.

I sneaked up behind him then grabbed him around the throat with my left arm. He struggled like mad as my leather-gloved hand collapses over his mouth. I heard his muffled screams as I raised the knife above my hand and shoved it into his throat. He went limp, like a ragdoll, as the last of his life escaped him.

I closed the knife, put it away, then headed back to the car where the others were hiding, careful to avoid the newly formed puddle of red. I walked around the hood where Austin was crouching and motioned for everyone to follow me.

I felt someone tap me on the shoulder, I turned, then Jack asked, “Can I drive?”

I shrugged, “Sure, why not?”

“Cool,” he said then got in on the driver side. 

I opened up the back of the van, there were two girls tied up in the back, with no pants. What do you think they were here for?

I placed a finger in front of my mouth to signal silence, “We’re taking the van,” I whispered, “we aren’t here to hurt you.”

Austin and I cut them free with our knives, “Thanks,” one of them said.

“No problem,” I replied.

I felt another tap on my shoulder, I turned and Austin stood holding a pair of keys, the keyring dangling from his finger, “Keys to one of the motorcycles,” he said, “and there’s a sidecar.”

I smiled then shut the doors to the van, “Oh, that is so fucking cool.”

Jack leaned out of the driver side window then said, “We should go.” As he did, a whole lot of confused bikers stared at us from inside the store.

“They’re taking the van,” one of them screamed, “and they killed Joel!”

This one moves for his gun, Austin was faster. I heard the loud crack of a gunshot to my right, then saw the display glass window of the gun store crack into the shape of a spider’s web. I turn to my left and see Austin already on the bike. I turned as I imagined all ten of those bikers drawing their weapons, and climbed into the sidecar, planting one foot on the front of it then spinning as I fell into the seat.

I pulled my shotgun out of its holster as the big black van in front of us and the motorcycle kicked to life. “Are you good at riding a motorcycle?” I asked Austin.

“No, not really,” he replied then kicked up the kickstand, “we’ll have to wing it.”

“Alright, that’s good with me,” our motorcycle started moving, and moves closer to the van.

“Keep them away from the van!” screamed Austin over the wind that is pounding against both our faces. “That’s where all the supplies are, we have to protect them!”

I nodded in reply then turned around, shotgun in hand, and aimed for the bike that was in front of the large pack of them that were behind us now. There was a guy in the sidecar, he looked like he had a gun in his hand.

Take him out first, the voice in my head tells me.

I centered the sights over his body, then prepared to pull the trigger when the motorcycle jerks hard to the right, the shot went wild and hit the bike’s front tire, the driver jerks the handlebars to the right again and he spins out, the guy in the sidecar jumped out.

“Nice shot,” I heard Austin say from my right, “but don’t get cocky.”

Another of the bikes rode up, I aimed at it with the shotgun then missed. “Oh, fuck this,” I said then threw it down into the foot well, and grabbed the Python from my belt. I fired three quick shots at the driver, he falls back onto the seat. I watched the one in the sidecar grab the handlebars, struggling to get the bike under control as it rolled into the ditch.

I fired two more shots at another, the first missed then the second hit the driver right in the head, then the motorcycle spun out similar to the last.

The last two sped up, getting very close behind us, to the point where I thought I could reach out and touch them. The guy in the side car of the closer motorcycle took a shot at me, it bounced off the back of our sidecar. I gave a violent start, nearly falling backwards in the side car, I threw myself  forward then fired the last shot in the Python; it hit the front light of the closer motorcycle, scaring the shit out of the driver, he jerked the handlebars to the left  then lost control of the bike, it flew back and took out the other one.

“Damn,” said Austin, looking back, “you sure showed them.”

“I’m just glad that’s over,” I said, with a sigh of relief.