Kyle West - Apocalypse

“Makara,” I said, “don’t ever try that again.”

She cracked a smile. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, but you could’ve been shot.”

She shrugged. “Are you really complaining here?”

I sighed. “I guess you have a point.”

We rounded a bend. Below I could see red clouds spread out like a blanket over the land, and mountaintops poking through them. We would be entering those clouds soon. Already, they were closer.

A few minutes later, we were in the dense, red fog. Makara turned on the headlights, but we could only see a few yards in front of us.

“I don’t see how they found us,” I said.

“Maybe they weren’t trying,” Makara said. “They’re hurting for loot to take back. Now that Bunker 114 is gone, maybe they thought it would be easy pickings.” She shook her head. “Idiots.”

Makara slowed down. The entire right side was sheer cliff, and falling off would mean death.

It was after we had gone down several switchbacks that I noticed two pairs of headlights above us.

“Shit,” I said. “They followed us!”

I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten about those other two vehicles. Of course this wasn’t over yet.

“I’m afraid you will have to drive fast now, Makara,” Samuel said. “I’m going in the back to man the turret.”

“Get back there, then,” Makara said. “Be careful.”

Samuel disappeared into the back. A few seconds later, he had started firing.

A spray of bullets showered the road ahead of us from above. We took a tight turn, forcing everyone to the left. The entire Recon shook with the effort.

I got out my Beretta, not knowing what good it would do me in this vehicle. The other Recons were two switchbacks above us.

“Can’t we go faster?” I asked.

Makara’s look was venomous. “If you want to slip on the ice and snow and fall to our deaths, then yeah…we can go faster.”

“Good point.”

Then, the first Recon rounded the bend right behind us. Samuel fired. I could see the hood of the other vehicle become riddled with bullets. A raider leaned out the passenger’s window and fired toward us.

Makara swerved around a tight bend, and the back tires lost traction. We were heading toward the cliff. At the last moment, Makara floored it, and we were surging ahead onto the next downward slope. I thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest.

The next Recon tried the same thing, only it was going too fast. As it fishtailed, the back tires fell off the slope. The entire vehicle slid backward, its front tires squealing like some dying thing.

As we rounded the next bend, we could see the Recon toppling over the road ahead of us.

Makara slammed on the brakes as Samuel fired a hail of bullets at the other Recon, just one switchback above us. The downed Recon crashed into the road ahead, did a half flip, and continued to roll down the mountainside.

“They’re done,” I said.

A moment later, the vehicle exploded in a violent plume of fire, crashing into a giant rock jutting out from the mountain.

“Let’s hope Brux was in there,” Makara said.

That was not to be. The other Recon swerved around the corner. In the passenger’s seat, I could see the man with the blond crew cut and a long scar, even from the side mirror. The driver’s eyes were wide and fearful. Brux looked murderous.

We exited the layer of red fog, finding ourselves very close to the desert floor. The snow petered out, replaced by red rock, dirt, and barren Waste. We made one final turn, and it was a straight stretch to the desert flatland.

Then, I heard a popping noise. I turned, and the low hum of the pressure chamber became a high whir. The pressure needle on the fuel gauge swerved down.

“They must have hit something,” Makara said. “We’re losing pressure.”

“What does that mean?

“It means we’re going nowhere.”

Behind us, after another round of shooting, I heard the tires of Brux’s Recon squeal. Samuel had blown out one of the tires. The vehicle swerved, and flipped on its side. It slid down the hill, past us, even as our Recon slowed to a halt and the electronics powered down.

Makara braked, bringing our Recon to a halt. She hopped out of the vehicle, pointing her pistol at Brux’s vehicle, the bottom of which now faced us.

I got out on my side, and followed Makara’s example, pointing my gun at the raiders’ crashed vehicle. Samuel faced the turret toward the downed Recon.

It was time to meet Brux.

Nothing happened for a full minute. We just stood there, pointing our guns, waiting for anyone to come out. The wind blew, blowing dust across the scene.

After waiting a while, I was beginning to think they might be dead.

But quick as a flash, Brux showed himself and fired a few shots. Above us, we heard Samuel give a loud yell.

Brux slipped behind the downed Recon, a smile on his lips.

“Samuel!” Makara said.

Samuel grabbed his shoulder and dropped inside the cargo bay. Makara and I jumped inside. He was sitting in the corner next to some supplies, holding his right shoulder and grimacing.

“Oh my God,” Makara said.

She ripped down the first aid kit hanging on the wall.

Samuel winced. “Pressure… put pressure on the wound…”

Makara ripped open her bag, taking out a shirt. She placed it on the wound, where blood gushed out at an alarming rate. Makara put her full weight on it. Samuel groaned.

“Alex, find the congealing agent,” she said.

I opened the first aid kid, digging through it. I found a tube of liquid that had the word “congealer” on it.

“This it?”

Makara snatched it from me. She took off the shirt, and squeezed the clear jelly onto the wound. Samuel hissed with pain. She put pressure back on the wound.

“That should help,” she said.

Samuel waved her away. “It’s nothing. Let me hold the shirt.”

“Samuel, you’re in no state…”

He pushed her off with surprising strength, holding the shirt. “I will be fine for the next few minutes. You have to deal with Brux.”

Makara nodded. “You’re right. But, how?”

I was afraid to step out of the cargo bay. Surely, their sights would be trained on the back, the only exit. Stepping out there was sure death.

“I have an idea,” I said.

Both Makara and Samuel looked at me.

“The pressure tank…has it lost all pressure?”

“No,” Samuel said. “There should be some fuel left.”

“Don’t strain yourself, Samuel.” She turned to me. “Alex, what’s your idea?”

“Hydrogen.” I tapped the tank. “There’s still plenty of it in reserve. If we can take the tank and throw it out the back, it will roll down the hill. If one of us shoots it…”

Samuel smiled. “Boom.”

“But how will we get away without our own pressure tank?” Makara asked.

“We can salvage the tank off the other Recon afterward.”

“If it doesn’t blow up in the process,” Makara said.

“That’s a risk we’ll have to take,” I said. “This is our only option.”

Makara nodded. “Let’s do it.”

Getting it out was easy – the pressure tanks were meant to be easily installed and removed. The thing was heavy. It took both me and Makara lifting it to get it to the back of the Recon.

We looked at each other.

“Ready?” I asked.

Makara nodded. “Let’s hope this works.”

We tossed it out, making sure it was horizontal to the slope. We gave a few seconds for the thing to roll down the hill.

“Now,” I said.

Makara stepped out the back, and started to fire. I jumped onto the turret, and didn’t bother with the heavy gun. I aimed my Beretta toward the tank.