Joshua Gayou - Commune - The Complete Series - A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Box Set (Books 1-4)

We had just passed a narrow river and were rounding a bend to travel under another overpass (this time the freeway) when I heard a sound that made my bowels turn to water; way, way off in the distance of the city, I heard the shrill revving of motorcycle engines. The sound was muted and far away, no doubt baffled by all of the buildings and other structures between us. They knew where we were, though, and it would not take them long to reach us.

Now we were in some shit. Making a stand to buy Greg, Alan, Jessica, and Alish some time to get away was out of the question now. A single guy with a rifle wouldn’t be able to stop a bunch of people on motorcycles. I might get two or three before they veered off my line of sight and, with their superior mobility, they would just blow right by me. By the time I caught up on foot, it would probably all be over with the better part of my group dead or dying. We could try getting off Washington and running up a side street, however this wouldn’t gain us much. This area north of the freeway was a lot more wide open than the denser city we had just come from, with far greater visibility in all directions. Additionally, the last thing I wanted was for our pursuers to pass us by, getting between me and my group waiting back at the bus. All they had to do was ride up the last street they’d seen me on, and they would run right into my people.

I ran up, slapped Greg on the shoulder, and said, “Out! Lemme carry her a bit. Alan, take Alish’s spot. Move, move!” We jockeyed around for position, and then I really started to haul, man. I was dragging Jessica and Alan both up the street like they were overfilled bags of shit and I was terrified of flies. I heard Greg say, “Holy crap, dude!” as he struggled to keep up. Jessica’s legs were still dragging behind us, slowing us down, so I shouted, “You two! Take a leg each and run out in front of us!” Alish and Greg both scrambled to their new positions and pulled Jessica’s lower half off the pavement. Having each quarter of her bodyweight supported by a person lightened the load considerably, and I started feeling pretty good about our chances again.

“Now run, goddamnit!” I bellowed. “Don’t stop and don’t you dare trip; I’ll kick your ass all the way up the street! Go !”

They went. We hauled literal ass, running for the next several blocks at full tilt, breathing heavy and grunting like frothing horses. Alish and Greg both exhibited excellent endurance, keeping their arms curled under the weight of Jessica’s legs so that they could stabilize her shifting mass as we ran. Alan and I didn’t have it so easy; the whole of her dead, flopping weight was transferred right into our spines. We hadn’t even gone a mile yet before the two bearers out in front had their elbows completely extended and were leaning out away from the center to counter the constant pull against their arms. Women are naturally stronger in their lower bodies than they are up top, so I called for Alish to swap places with Alan. The change in weight distributions appeared to help both of them because I was able to detect a momentary increase in speed. Unfortunately, the intensity of the screaming engines coming from behind us also increased.

Greg glanced back over his shoulder as we ran and I saw his eyes widen in panic. “Oh, shit, I see them back there! They’re coming!”

I coughed and shouted back, “Don’t look back that way, damn it! Watch where you’re going!” I jammed my head over into Jessica’s to knock it out of my way and look around Alan. In the distance, I could see the bus. Standing in front of it appeared to be Davidson and Oscar; there were other people milling around as well, but I was in too much of a scramble to identify them. Both Davidson and Oscar stood rooted in place; distance rendered their expressions unreadable, but their body language said they were in a state of either utter shock or complete confusion.

In the midst of running under load, awkwardly carrying a casualty, and resisting a magmatic burn in lungs that hadn’t worked so hard in years, I pulled in enough air to physically hurt and bellowed: “ Start … the fucking … bus !”

The desired effect was achieved; Oscar jumped to life, backhanded Davidson across the shoulder to get him moving as well, and ran around to the front entrance of the bus while fanning his hands out in front of him in an underhand motion. He looked like he was trying to direct a herd of scattering ducklings, which looked so ridiculous to me that I wanted to laugh. The scream of pursuing engines increased in volume behind us, feeling as though they were riding right up our spines. The skin on the back of my neck began to tingle in alarm as I angrily tamped down the anticipation of bullets ripping into our backs. There were one hundred yards between us and the bus if there was a foot.

“Make for that bus,” I gasped. “Don’t stop… until you’re on it!”

No one responded to me. Alan and Greg dropped their heads down low like charging animals, hunched their backs, and began to pound pavement so hard that I began to wonder if they were trying to translate force of impact into speed. Alan began to growl on every exhalation, either in frustration, anger, or fear; he had Jessica’s knee pulled up into his chest like a cradled football. On my left, I heard and felt the shrill wheeze of Alish’s exertions; a short, frantic scream that sounded only on every alternating footstep.

Before I realized what was happening, the rear taillight of the bus was blurring by the five of us on the left side, and the two boys out in front were slowing down to match the speed of the vehicle, which was already rolling forward. The fact that whoever was driving had the bus rolling before we were safely on told me everything I needed to know about the proximity of our assailants. As if to punctuate this realization, the sound of gunfire erupted behind us.

I looked up at the entrance to see Fred Moses in all of his giant glory hanging out of the door with his arms extended to us. I reached down under Jessica’s ass with my left hand and heaved her bodily up into Fred’s general vicinity, praying that he would catch her. He did, grabbing her like a linebacker and pulling her back up the steps and down the aisle. I reached out, grabbed Alish by the arm, and shoved her into Greg and Alan. I was attempting to cram all three of them through the door at once and succeeding, despite the fact that I was probably shaving skin off any exposed parts coming into contact with hard, metal edges. They began to stumble up the stairs of the bus on legs turned to rubber; I chose to assist their efforts by slapping backs and asses indiscriminately while screaming, “ Go, go, go! ” like a madman.

Inside the vehicle, I heard more gunfire; this time right up on top of me. I realized it was coming from inside the bus and saw Davidson shooting through the windows all the way down at the tail. I looked over to the driver’s seat, which happened to be populated by Oscar. “Do not crash this son of a bitch, do you read?”

He nodded hard enough to rattle his brains, not even looking up at me, hands white-knuckled on the oversized wheel.

“Good,” I said. “You take us out the way we came in. Don’t get lost!”

I turned and bounded down the bus to the rear. As I went, I screamed at all on board to either hit the deck or lay down in their seats. Halfway down the length of the center aisle, I planted my hands on seat backs to either side of me and vaulted over Jessica’s body.

Davidson continued to fire out the windows as I approached; the closer I came to the rear of the vehicle, the more of our attackers I could see. There was a large group after us, perhaps twelve or thirteen people, on all manner of two-wheeled vehicle. Many were riding alone, attempting to manage throttle, clutch, and pistol all at the same time (which likely accounted for their failure to hit any of us as we ran); a few rode double and appeared to be making good use of their ability to focus on aiming. Despite Davidson’s efforts to shoot everywhere at once, the rear of the bus was taking fire, and I saw pinpricks of light appear instantaneously on the areas of the back wall not obscured by seating. I could see all sorts of vehicles pursuing us, from some of the standard Harleys to a lot of Asian crotch rockets; I think I even clocked a Ducati out there and I know for certain I saw two scooters.