Escape: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival series (Dark Road Book 2) Page 6

“Just enough to clear the shot,” Ben noted as Joel rolled the big rear window partially down. They wouldn’t be able to see Joel behind the blacked-out windows, but it would do nothing to protect him.

  “Make sure you can reach something with your feet to stabilize yourself. Find some anchor points. We may be making some evasive maneuvers. If you’re not stable, your shots won’t be worth a thing.”

  “Okay, I think I’m set.” Joel looked back at them as he wiggled himself in behind the AR and settled into place. He was now lying in the prone position and facing out the rear of the truck through an eight-inch gap at the top of the cab. For stability, he pressed his feet against the C pillars on either side of the rear cab.

  “You good?” Ben made eye contact with Joel.

  Joel nodded.

  “Just remember, take your time. Pick your shots and breathe.”

  “I will.” Joel turned his attention to the rifle, flipping the magnifier down and to the side and leaving the holographic site ready for action.

  “I guess it’s my turn to disappear.” Allie shot Ben a nervous smile and began to situate herself so her knees were on the floor panel and her torso bent over the seat. She balled up her fleece jacket on the seat and hunched over it.

  “Sorry, it’s the safest place for now.” Ben lifted the lid on the center console and pulled the Desert Eagle out. He wedged the holster and gun between his seat and the console and unsnapped the retaining cord so he could easily draw it out.

  “Here we go.” Ben shifted in his seat as the truck began moving forward. Gunner sat up in the back seat and whined.

  “Gunner, down.” Ben glanced at the rearview mirror and watched as Gunner reluctantly slid back down with a faint grumble.

  The big V-8 roared to life as he pushed the pedal down. They accelerated rapidly as they approached the intersection that led into the shopping center parking lot.

  Maybe the rednecks wouldn’t even notice the Blazer as it drove by. Between the alcohol and the hot-dogging truck screeching around the parking lot, Ben and the kids might slip by unnoticed. So far there was no indication they had been spotted.

  Ben feathered the throttle lightly, trying to coast a little while maintaining 40 or 50 miles per hour. The Blazer’s exhaust wasn’t too loud at this speed but made a fair amount of noise when he got on it.

  Another few hundred yards was all that stood between them and the next commercial strip mall just ahead. If they could pass that corner of the building, they would be out of sight and on their way.

  But it wasn’t going to be that easy.

  “Crap!” Ben glanced back and forth from the rearview mirror to the road. “What’s going on, Joel? Talk to me.”

  “The truck that was doing donuts stopped and a couple of the guys are pointing at us!” Joel blurted out.

  “Allie, better get yourself buckled up. We’ve been made. Hang on back there, Joel.”

  Allie sprung up into her seat and put on her seatbelt just as Ben pushed the pedal down. The engine screamed to life, followed by a violent jolt forward as the passing gear kicked in and pushed them back into their seats. Now more than ever, Ben was sure that having the engine rebuilt professionally when they fixed up the Blazer was money well spent.

  “Talk to me, bud.” Ben shifted in his seat and placed a hand on the back of the passenger seat as he twisted to look behind him briefly.

  “Two of the guys with guns got in the back of the pickup!” Joel shouted. “They’re coming after us!”

  Chapter Twelve

  Ben took his hand off the passenger seat and put it back on the wheel.

  Allie had a worried look on her face as she strained against the seatbelt to see what was going on behind them.

  “We got this. It’ll be okay.” Ben tried to offer her some encouragement before giving the road his full attention. They had passed by their original goal—the corner of the next strip mall—and were now temporarily out of their pursuers line of sight.

  “Joel, let me know when they come around that corner.” Ben was doing his best to avoid debris left behind from the amateur road crew and their ancient backhoe.

  In some areas they had been too aggressive with the old machine and had dug up chunks of asphalt, creating a minefield of miniature craters and chunks of rubble. It seemed to get worse the farther Ben drove. They must have started clearing the road on this side of town before they figured out how to run the backhoe.

  Ben was suddenly faced with a tough choice. He had to slow down or risk tearing the truck apart as it began to vibrate violently from the rough road. Joel would never be able to get a shot off like this, either, at least not one that would matter.

  So much for outrunning the rednecks. Their only hope was to get to an unmolested part of the road that hadn’t been torn up by the idiots. They could make better time on the sections of road that were littered with wrecks than they could on this garbage.

  “They’re at the intersection!” Joel shouted.

  Ben looked back as he slowed the truck even more. There was no doubt in his mind that the rednecks would not slow down when they hit the rough section of road. But he wasn’t willing to push the Blazer to the breaking point, because without the truck, they were dead in the water. At this rate, their pursuers would catch up with them soon—or least get close enough, even in their inebriated state—to get a lucky shot off at them.

  “Hang on!” Ben instructed, slamming on the brakes. The tires squealed as the truck slid to a halt at a 45-degree angle across the road. “We can’t outrun them and risk tearing the truck up. Better to stand our ground here.”

  He reached back behind him and from under the rear seat pulled out the soft case containing his M24 rifle.

  Ben was getting ready to tell Allie to get back behind the seat, but when he looked in her direction she was already working on it. He nodded at her before slipping out of the truck with the rifle.

  He had the loaded gun out of its case and was already extending the feet of the bipod by the time he reached the front of the truck. Flipping the lids of the scope open, he laid the gun down across the hood, a place he’d been all too often lately, it seemed.

  The pickup chasing them was still a little over half a mile away but closing fast. He’d been right in assuming they wouldn’t slow down over the bad section of road. But at least this way the two guys hanging on for dear life in the back wouldn’t be able to get a shot off.

  Ben could make out the blue Ford oval on the grill of the truck as it skidded and jumped over the rubble. He wasn’t sure how the truck was enduring such torture. The view through his scope revealed how intensely the truck chassis was reacting to the surface of the road. Bolts had to be coming loose, inside and out. Ben could imagine all the parts and pieces on the truck being pushed to their limit.

  Focusing intently, he brought his finger to the trigger and was about to squeeze off a round into the engine when all of a sudden he heard the familiar, repeated crack of the AR.

  POP… POP… POP… POP. POP.

  Ben glanced over his right shoulder. Allie had her hands over her ears. Three more blasts rang out from the AR, followed by Joel’s voice.

  “I got them.”

  Ben turned back to look at the old Ford in time to watch the left front tire explode. The front end dove down and kissed the pavement, throwing sparks off the bumper briefly before the whole truck fishtailed left as it tried to compensate for the lost tire. It slid sideways for only a moment before the rough surface caught the right tires and pitched the truck into a catastrophic roll.

  The two guys riding in the back were thrown from the bed of the truck immediately. Their bodies flew like rag dolls somersaulting through the air and landing with lifeless bounces on the pavement.

  The truck continued to roll as it threw off random parts in every direction, until it finally came to rest on the completely flattened cab. The whole thing had only taken seconds but had seemed to play out in front of Ben in slow motion.

  There w
as no movement from any of the occupants, and it was obvious to Ben that all were dead or would be soon from their injuries. The truck, now just a crumpled, smoking heap of twisted metal, lay in the middle of the road.

  Their friends surely wouldn’t be far behind. Ben and his crew needed to keep moving and get out of there before the rest of the rednecks showed up and started a firefight.

  Ben broke the bipod down on the M24 and switched the safety on before he picked the soft case up off the ground and stowed the rifle. When he got back in the truck, Joel was still lying in the back and staring at what was left of the wreck.

  “We’re going to get out of here, guys. Everybody back in their seats and buckle up.” Ben shoved the rifle under the rear seat and tapped Joel on his foot. “Come on, buddy.”

  “Okay,” Joel mumbled. He slid down from his perch and onto the rear bench next to Gunner. He gave the dog an absentminded pet, then reached back and dragged the gun closer to him, all the while looking back at the wreck he had just caused.

  Ben watched him through the rearview mirror. The poor kid’s face was pale, and he was visibly shaken by the ordeal.

  “Do you want your seat back?” Allie asked. “Joel?” There was concern in her voice. Concern that Ben felt, too.

  “Huh? Oh, uh…what?” Joel stumbled over his words.

  “Your seat. Do you want it back?” she asked again.

  “No, I’m okay. I’ll give you a break from Gunner.” Joel looked over his shoulder again.

  Ben glanced in the rearview mirror. Smoke twisted up in the air, marking the spot of the crash. He wanted to push the truck harder but was already going as fast as he could under the circumstances, trying to put as much distance between them and what had just gone down.

  Joel took one last look, then twisted around to face the front as the Ford slipped out of view.

  “Finally.” Ben sighed. He never thought he would welcome the sight of the burned-out wrecks scattered along the highway, but it meant they could pick up speed and get out of here.

  “Good shot, Joel,” Ben said. “You did exactly what you were supposed to do. There’s no reason at all to feel bad about what happened. They brought it on themselves. It was us or them.” That was their world now. Us or them. And there was nothing Ben could do to shield his son from it.

  “I know,” Joel answered quietly.

  The road opened up a bit as they reached the outskirts of town. Ben could maintain a decent rate of speed for extended periods as the obstacles on the road became fewer and farther apart the deeper they headed into the mountains. They were making pretty good time now, and Ben was relieved to put Pagosa Springs far behind them.

  They climbed toward the Continental Divide, the eastern slope of the Rocky Mountains, and, hopefully, a safe place to spend the night.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The road changed quickly, though, from double lanes with gentle curves and bends to a narrow, single-lane road filled with blind corners and switchback curves that slowed them down.

  To make things worse, it was starting to rain. The old truck’s ventilation system couldn’t keep up with three people and a big dog all breathing at the same time. It was a constant struggle to keep the windows clear from fog without having them open. Navigation was a bit nerve-racking, to say the least, trying to make decent progress and keep up a good pace when everything around the next turn was a complete mystery.

  A couple times already, they had been unpleasantly surprised by an abandoned car or wreck waiting for them in the middle of the road and forcing them to make some sudden stops. Ben decided the risk of a crashing was too high and slowed down in order to avoid any more close calls.

  “This is going to take a lot longer than I thought,” Ben muttered.

  Allie straightened a little. “How far do you think we’ll go today?”

  “Originally I was hoping to get within an hour or two of Kansas, but at this rate, we’ll be lucky to make Alamosa.” Ben exhaled deeply, trying to hide his disappointment.

  This was a beautiful drive under normal circumstances, but the once scenic route was now their biggest adversary and presented them with a formidable challenge in navigation.

  The only thing between them and a sheer drop-off of a couple hundred feet in some areas was a low rusty guardrail full of nicks and broken sections not yet replaced from the previous winter’s plowings. The thin guardrail hardly looked up to the challenge of preventing them from careening over the edge if they were to overshoot one of the switchbacks.

  It was pretty common for one of the big plow trucks to catch their blade on the guardrail, and there were always sections of rail to be replaced at the end of every winter season. But no one would be repairing the guardrails this year—or maybe ever.

  The rain was letting up, but before Ben could appreciate the improvement in driving conditions, they were presented with their next challenge. As they rounded yet another hairpin turn, they met a jackknifed camper that sat sideways on the road.

  The camper was wedged between the cliff wall on the right and what remained of the guardrail on the left. The tongue of the camper chassis, which should have had a truck attached to it, was twisted and bent downward. It, along with about 10 feet of the actual camper body, hung out over the edge of the drop-off. There were a few large creases that had formed along the bottom, where it bent under the weight of the front half that dangled off the cliff. Ben had no idea how the whole thing hadn’t been pulled over the edge.

  “Whoa! What happened here?” Allie sat forward for a better look.

  “Where’s the truck that was towing it?” Joel mimicked her, leaning forward from the back seat and straining to get a better view.

  “Looks like they lost control and went over the edge.” Ben put the Blazer in park and turned it off. There was no way they were going any farther unless they could move the big white Winnebago out of the way.

  Ben had been concerned about running into a situation like this, especially on these narrow two-lane roads. He figured sooner or later they’d face a roadblock of some sort based on all the wrecks they had passed. He just wished it wasn’t a camper weighing several tons wedged between a mountain and a guardrail.

  The possibility of such wrecks had occupied enough space in his thoughts that he had come up with a few ideas about how best to deal with a roadblock like this. The Blazer could have easily pulled a few cars out of the way with the chain and tow strap they had with them. He hadn’t given it much thought beyond that, thinking it would be a pretty simple fix.

  But a camper, and the way this was wedged in, presented a whole different set of problems. To complicate things further, the steep grade added yet another level of difficulty to the predicament. Even if they could free the camper, there was a chance it would begin to roll downhill toward their truck.

  “Looks wedged in there pretty tight.” Ben got out of the truck and walked toward the camper to get a better look.

  “What do you think?” Joel climbed out of the truck, followed by Allie and Gunner. Gunner quickly ran over to the camper tire and made good use of it after giving it a sniff.

  They all stood there in silence for a few minutes as Ben looked over the wreck from one end to the other.

  He ran a hand through his hair. “There’s no other way around. The closest jeep trail I know of is up ahead a few miles. Joel and I have been up here on some of the trails before, and there’s no way that will put us back on the road ahead of this.”

  Going back wasn’t an option as far as Ben was concerned. It would take hours, maybe even days, to continue on a different route, and he wasn’t about to go back through Pagosa Springs—not with those rednecks lying in wait.

  “We’re not going back, are we?” Allie put one hand on the broken piece of guardrail and peeked over the edge.

  “No, that’s not an option.” Ben joined her and looked down at the mangled remains of the large SUV that had been towing the camper when disaster struck. There was no chance of survivo
rs.

  “Those poor people!” Allie shook her head as she stepped back from the edge.

  “What a way to go.” Joel was now standing where Allie had been.

  Ben got down on the ground next to the camper’s double wheel wells and started to shimmy under to the other side. “What are you doing, Dad?”

  “I want to get a look and see how bad it’s hung up on the guardrail over here.”

  Since the front end was well over the cliff and the back end was smashed against the rocks, going under was the only safe way to get to the other side of the big camper. There wasn’t enough room for him to squeeze through between the camper and the space by the sheer rock wall. Allie maybe, but he wasn’t sending her through.

  Once he was on the other side, he inspected the area where the guardrail punctured through the thin aluminum and plastic skin of the camper’s hull. It appeared to be the only thing preventing the camper from suffering the same fate as the SUV.

  The Winnebago had caught its front corner on the guardrail and peeled back the outer shell on the camper all the way to the side door. The guardrail had sliced through the thin shell like a can opener, exposing the fluffy yellow insulation underneath.

  The peeled camper shell had spiraled into a neat roll behind the piece of rail sticking into it. The doorframe was badly distorted, and there was a large gap on the frame where the knob and lock were. Ben pulled the door open easily and peered inside, trying to get an idea of how far the rail stuck into the interior of the RV. He was careful not to step inside or put any weight on the RV itself.

  To Ben, it looked like the whole thing could go over the edge at any moment if it shifted. The rail hadn’t come through to the inside, which meant it was hanging on by the roll of aluminum skin on the outside. A plan started to materialize in his mind.

  As he leaned back out of the camper’s doorway, he caught sight of a few children’s toys scattered about the disheveled interior and was reminded of the SUV at the bottom of the cliff. His thoughts momentarily drifted to its potential occupants and then to his own kids.