“We aren't leaving without her.”

  “Listen to me, Barry,” Jamal pleaded.

  “WE AREN'T!” Barry yelled at the Pen'Kai.

  “I am going after her, Barry,” Jamal explained, “and your group is going to Durant.” Jamal's tone made it clear that it was an order. Barry ignored it.

  “If we split up, we can find her faster!” Barry argued.

  “You will not split up. You will get in the vehicles and go. There is no need to help me find her. I can sprint through every road in this town in minutes. I know Cassandra's brain waves. I can project my mind speak further than these blocks are wide. If she is around, I can reach her mind. If she is gone,” Jamal paused and continued in a more somber tone, “or dead…then my objective is the same. I will return to Durant. The safety of the surviving humans is paramount.”

  Barry wanted to argue. He wanted to tell Jamal that he could go fuck himself, but he knew that Jamal was right. Cass was more capable than any of his group. Going back to search would put the four survivors in danger. As much as he hated walking away from Cass, the thought of anything happening to Joel, or Doyle, made Barry's stomach lurch. His mind ran through images of Joel and Doyle chained inside that trailer and recoiled from the thought.

  “We will go, but where do wait we for ya'll to catch up.” Barry asked.

  “Are you familiar with Durant, Barry?” Jamal asked.

  “Yes. Very.”

  “Good! Head to the glass factory. Park behind the mixing silos and stay there,” Jamal instructed.

  “Got it.” was Barry's short reply. He asked Doyle to grab the others and load up.

  “Who's riding where?” Doyle asked.

  “You and Jaxon. Me and Joel,” Barry began, but he looked up at the massive army truck and realized they had overlooked something. “Do you know how to drive that thing, Doyle?”

  “Shit, Bear, I've never even been inside one,” Doyle confessed.

  “Bear?” Barry asked, not sure how he felt about the nickname.

  “I mean, it fits. Right? Unless you prefer Porkchop?” Doyle joked.

  “I'm fine with Bear,” Barry conceded.

  “What about you, Jax?” Doyle asked. “You were in the army.”

  “No, I was not. A three-letter agency. I was not a member of the military...but they gave me rides, occasionally.”

  The three men jumped from the loud backfire that preceded the rumble of the enormous army truck. They ran around to the driver’s side to find Joel leaning out the window and giving them a thumbs-up.

  “Well, son of a bitch. That’s why you shouldn’t underestimate the disabled.” Jaxon blurted out.

  “Or discriminate because of age,” Doyle added.

  “Or, just don’t discriminate for any reason. Joel can't hear, he isn't disabled. Assholes.” Barry chided the pair.

  “Oh, whatever. Don’t act like you aren’t just as surprised that the kid can drive this thing,” Jaxon argued.

  “I was. But I didn’t feel the need to tell anybody about it.”

  Doyle laughed as he patted Jaxon on the back. “Come on. Today, you get the privilege of being driven around by one of the greatest racecar drivers that ever lived.”

  Jamal walked over to see the men off.

  “Remember, don’t stop, unless you happen upon survivors. Get to the glass factory. Park in the back, and stay out of…”

  Jamal went rigid.

  “GO. NOW!” was all Jamal said, before he turned and bolted down the road, faster than any human should be able to run.

  Barry watched, amazed, at how inhuman Jamal’s speed was. In less than a few seconds, the Pen’Kai had sped out of the courtyard, around the house, and was already crossing through the intersection at the end of the block.

  “What was that about?” Doyle wondered.

  “I don’t know. But, I think there is trouble. We need to do what he said. Let’s go. Now.” Barry ordered. “Doyle, you and Jaxon take the lead. We’ll follow behind.”

  Doyle hopped in the Bronco’s driver’s seat. Jaxon climbed in carrying two AR15 assault rifles. He tucked one, muzzle down, next to Doyle. The other he poked through the window with the barrel propped between the window and side-view mirror. Doyle started the engine and popped it into gear. The tires squealed as they spun on the concrete of the courtyard drive. The tires caught traction and they took off. Doyle started around the passenger side of the army truck and saw Barry motioning for them to stop.

  “This isn’t NASCAR, Hot Shot. This thing will only do about fifty.” Barry informed them. “And you don’t know this highway. It’s old and it’s narrow. It has about twelve inches of shoulder and deep ditches. It’s going to wind all over and there are lots of straight hills that flatten into sharp curves. Pay attention and don’t get more than a handful of car-lengths ahead,” he instructed.

  “Sounds good, Bear. Anything else?” Doyle asked.

  “Yeah, when we roll through these little towns, let's keep our windows down and our eyes open. If there are survivors, we need to pick them up.”

  “Got it,” Doyle acknowledged.

  “Oh, and Cass installed CB radios in both trucks. Make sure it’s on.”

  Doyle was already rolling away as he yelled to Barry that he heard him about the radio.

  Those two need a babysitter.

  Barry turned to Joel and motioned for him to take off. The enormous truck lurched forward as Joel struggled to find the right gear. He found it after a few tries, and the truck stopped bouncing. By the time they turned onto the highway, the Bronco was disappearing over a hill.

  So much for sticking close. Oh shit. Fucking hell. I didn’t tell them what channel to turn the CB to.

  After a couple of miles, they crested a hill and spotted the Bronco waiting at the top of the next hill. Barry pointed at the Bronco, for Joel to see. Joel nodded. Barry relaxed into his seat and glanced at the side-view mirror. The glint of the sun reflecting off a windshield caught his eye. He leaned closer to the mirror and realized a vehicle was coming down the highway. It was traveling faster than their truck and gaining on them. They topped another hill and Barry lost sight of the approaching vehicle. Barry kept his eyes on the mirror and didn’t notice as they approached the Bronco. Joel downshifted and Barry looked away from the mirror. The truck slowed and stopped a few yards away from where Doyle parked. Jaxon ran up to the driver’s door and hopped on the side step. He poked his arms and head over the door and leaned into the cab.

  “What channel are we supposed to be on? For the radio,” Jaxon asked.

  “I don’t know,” Barry replied. “How about channel…”

  A bright light struck Barry’s eyes and he swung his head back toward the mirror. The vehicle had come over the hill and was much closer now.

  “GO. GO Jaxon. Get in your truck and tell Doyle to go. It’s them. It’s the fucking kidnappers coming our way!” Barry urged. “GO!”

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  Jaxon leaned out of the cab and looked back the way they came. Realization showed on his face and he jumped down and ran for the Bronco. Barry stuck his head out of the window and yelled after Jaxon.

  “CHANNEL 4! JAXON! CHANNEL 4!”

  Jaxon didn’t slow but threw his right arm up and lifted his thumb toward the sky. Barry quickly twisted the tuner on the CB to channel four and rapidly tapped Joel on the thigh and mouthed directions. Joel took a second to look at his side mirror. He jerked back around and threw the truck in gear. This time, he didn’t need more than one attempt at finding the low gear. The truck took off, but it wasn’t fast enough. The semi was approaching fast.

  “What’s the plan, Barry? Over.” Jaxon’s voice broke over the radio.

  Barry reached up and took the mic from its cradle and returned Jaxon’s call.

  “I don’t know. But, we can’t outrun them. Over.”

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  “Now leaving Tupelo, Oklahoma. Next stop, Durant, Oklahoma,” Dillon announced. He looked over at Robert and could sense his little brother’s unease. He reached over and gently nudged his brother’s shoulder. Robert lifted his head off the door window and looked at Dillon. “Don’t worry about a thing, Rob. You know I ain’t gonna let nothing happen to you.”

  Robert didn’t respond. He turned away from Dillon and let his head lean back against the window.

  “Don’t be like that. We’re gonna get our quota. Hell, I bet we leave Durant with a full trailer!”

  Robert continued to ignore him..

  “You’re gonna make me work for it, huh?” Dillon asked. “Gonna be all melancholic for the whole ride. I’ll tell you what...our new quota is thirty-three!”

  Robert rolled his head enough to give Dillon a side-eyed glare.

  “Gee, thanks, Dillon. You sure know how to make a guy feel better.” Robert responded, sarcastically.

  “Oh yeah, Dr. Robotnik. Thirty-three, because the first ten are Dunn’s. The eleventh one is all yours. So is number twenty-two…and number thirty-three. All yours! You can play with them all you want... any way you want.”

  Robert perked up and sat straight in his seat. He didn’t try to hide the childish glee that replaced his gloomy demeanor.

  “Seriously? No fooling?” Robert asked.

  “No fooling,” Dillon assured him. “But that don’t mean I gotta watch. Take that shit somewhere private.”

  “I will. I promise. And you don’t care what I do?”

  “Not a care to be given,” Dillon replied.

  “I can make them scream?”

  “As loud as you can get them to, little bro.”

  “What about you, Dillon? Do I need to save some for you.? To feed, I mean.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t mind a top-off. So save me one, at least. But, I guess you can have free reign with two of them.”

  “HECK YEAH!” Robert exclaimed. “Dillon? You do mean it? For real…not a game?”

  “GODDAMMIT...ROBERT DALE!” Dillon yelled.

  Robert’s joy melted away and he shrank back into his chair. He knew Dillon was fucking with him,

  “I’m sorry, Dillon. I didn’t mean to…”

  Dillon looked at Robert and reached over and grabbed his hand.

  “Oh no, Robert Dale, I’m sorry. No, no, no. Not you. That.” Dillon looked forward and pointed down the road. “We have survivors, bubba. Looks like we’re gonna start on that quota before we ever get to Durant.”

  “Oh shit! That’s a big truck. You don’t think it’s military, do ya?” Robert asked.

  “Nah. I doubt it is. More than a few of those running around, in Oklahoma. I imagine it’s a prepper or a military nut,” Dillon guessed.

  “What if it's full of people?” Robert shrieked. “Imagine if there are eleven survivors in there!”

  “Calm down, Robert. Don’t let your prick get hard, yet,” Robert advised. “Let’s just see what we’re dealing with. Grab the guns out of the cabin and get ready. I still don’t know how we are gonna approach this situation. That’s a lot of truck to get to pull over. Too, many tires to try to shoot out. Plus, this road is too narrow to get ahead of them.”

  Robert vanished into the sleeper cabin and Dillon heard him rummaging around.

  “You want the rifles?” Dillon heard Robert ask, from behind him.

  “Might as well,” Dillon replied. “Let’s go with the M16 and the 6.5 Creedmoor.”

  “Will do,” Robert answered. “Any pistols?”

  “Hmm…let me think,” Dillon answered back, before taking a moment to ponder. “Might as well. Go ahead and holster your 9 mil, and grab my Glock 45.”

  Robert popped out of the curtain that separated the cab from the sleeper cabin. He plopped into his seat and handed Dillon his handgun. The two rifles were propped against the dash.

  “You know, you had a point, Robert. There might be more than a few people in that truck. Will you hop back there and grab the MP5? We might need something that can sling some lead around.”

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  “They’re right on our ass, now. Shit! He’s flashing his lights at us now. I think they want us to pull over. Over.” Barry spoke into the mic.

  “Why the hell would they think we would do that? Over.”

  “I don’t think he knows who we are. I think he is assuming we are just more survivors to take. Over,” Barry explained.

  “We sure know who they are, and I think we need to end this. Those fucks aren’t bulletproof. Over,” Jaxon responded.

  “Just keep your distance, for now. If they haven’t seen you. It’s our advantage. I’ll let you know the second we need help. Over.”

  “Now, how is it you know who we are?”

  Barry heard the strange voice break over the CB and looked at Joel, before remembering he was riding with a deaf person.

  “Who was that? Over.” Jaxon asked.

  Fuck. Of course, they have a radio. They’re in a semi. Stupid. How long have they been listening to us? How do I respond to Jaxon? What do I…

  “Who do you got ahead of you?” Dillon asked. “Sorry, forgot to say over. Over.”

  Barry didn’t respond. He didn’t hear Jaxon respond, either.

  Good job, Jaxon. You're smarter than I give you credit for.

  “Come on, now. This isn’t fair. You know who we are, but we have no idea who we’re talking to. Over.”

  Barry tapped Joel to get him to look at him.

  “They intercepted our chatter. They have been listening to us.”

  Joel frowned.

  The poor kid shouldn’t be dealing with this shit. I’ve gotta find a way to get him to safety. If that’s even a thing anymore. What do I do? What do I do? Think, Barry, think. Can’t make a plan with Jaxon and Doyle. Can’t outrun them. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…okay. Um…Okay, we’re coming into Wapanucka…ahhh…shit. There’s nothing there that can help. Leaving the highway is pointless. It’s all pointless! No matter what we do, we are going to have to deal with them. We can’t get away in this truck.

  Barry noticed Joel was slowing down as they came into town. He twirled his index fingers around each other rapidly, signally for Joel to speed back up. Joel shifted into a higher gear and accelerated. The highway went straight through town. It was only a few blocks before you shot out into open farmland. Barry saw the school ahead and knew they were leaving town.

  I’m in no position to change this situation. I just need to radio for Doyle to come back. We are better off with them nearby, in case things pop off.

  “Go ahead and head back. We’re gonna have to play this on the fly. Over.” Barry radioed to the world.

  No response.

  “Confirm. Over.”

  No response.

  “Confirm. Over,” Barry repeated.

  “Maybe, they’re out of range,” Dillon responded. “I think you might be alone, now. Over.”

  As the army truck sped past the Wapanucka Elementary School, Barry noticed the black Ford Bronco parked on the edge of the parking lot. Both doors opened wide, and Jaxon and Doyle were standing behind them. Each man had their assault rifles up and they were aiming behind the army truck. The moment they passed muzzle flashes began flashing off.

  buhd buhd bhud bhud bhud bhud bhud bhud buhd buhd buhd buhd buhd buhd bhud

  buhb buhd buhd buhd buhd buhd buhd buhd buhd buhd buhd buhd

  Joel couldn’t hear the gunfire, but he saw Doyle and Jaxon. He saw the muzzle flashes and felt the rapid percussions of their semi-automatic gunfire. He started to slow down, but Barry quickly urged him to keep driving. Barry leaned out the window and looked at the semi. It was still right on their tail, but the hood and windshield were littered with bullet holes.

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  “Mother fucker! Are you hit? You okay, Robert Dale?”

  “I’m good. I’m good. Where the heck did that come from?” Robert asked, his heart was beating in his throat.

  “I’ll tell you who the hell it was. It was those bitches from the gas station!” Dillon yelled.

  “For real? The ones that took that deaf boy and that bitch that got ya?”

  Dillon glared at Robert.

  “She didn’t get me, Robert Dale,” Dillon corrected, as a devious grin stretched across his face. “I didn’t see her back there, so that means she’s up there!”

  Dillon shifted gears and floored it.