Zombie Road: The Second Omnibus by Simpson, A. (e ink manga reader .txt) 📗

said and concentrated on his driving. Head lights were coming up behind and he had no idea how many cars the girls had been able to sabotage. No way to out run and outlast a dozen guys on their tail and shooting at them. The only way out was up. Griz got the radio station on the ham and Bastille patched him through live like he would any other call in show. No need for subterfuge and stealth now. The entire free world heard the exchange of gunfire, the roar of the engines and the grit in the men’s voices as they yelled over the noise to let the Indian village know they were coming in hot and had hell running up their back door.

Gunny hit the bottom of the hill in a skid, more bullets blowing out lights and riddling the rear of the car with new holes. Tires squalled. Gunfire pounded the night and the whine of a blown big block could be heard over the throaty thunder coming from the headers. Headlights came close then fell away as Griz sent a barrage of bullets at them. There were no guard rails, just a wide path cut up the side of the mountain that curved its way back and forth to the summit. Gunny got sideways, counter steered and drifted through a long, sloping turn. Griz had a perfect shot for a few seconds and with his arm wrapped around the roll bar to steady his aim, another raider truck started spewing steam from the radiator. The Chevelle was gone after that, they couldn’t keep up. The twists and turns got tighter as they neared the top and the Raiders were left behind in a cloud of dust.

The Hopi had no way of replying, he didn’t know if they received the message. They didn’t know if the gate would be open or if they’d get pinned in the cross fire when the Raiders rounded the final bend.

Gunny drove, concentrating on putting distance between them, enough to make it through the gates if they were open before Casey’s men arrived. He concentrated on keeping the jacked up Chevelle on the mountain, not taking a corner too hard and sliding off into space.

He drove like he was on the dirt tracks back home, blasting through the curves in a clapped-out bomber held together with bailing wire and a prayer.

He saw flashes of movement on the mountainside, caught glimpses of men levering boulders and piles of rocks onto the road behind them as they passed. They’d heard. The ambush was being sprung.

Gunny feathered the gas around the last curve, the big tires breaking loose in the sandy gravel and aimed the nose towards the gate. It was open with a dozen men urging him forward, ready to roll it closed as soon as they were thru. It was his first time at the top of the mountain and he saw how Casey was going to take the town. They had tall walls carved out of solid stone that couldn’t be broken down but the gate was a weak point. It was a massive rock, probably weighing a hundred tons, but it was on rollers. Telephone poles from the looks of it. The men could push it back and forth and it was impregnable, impossible to smash. But it only took a handful of men to shove it out of the way. All Casey had to do was be willing to sacrifice enough people to throw themselves into a hail of bullets and arrows to get it moving then the cars could get in. It would be all over then. The Hopi had never anticipated an onslaught like that which was coming for them. There were only a few wheel chocks against the timbers to hold it closed. It was more than enough to keep out the Z’s. It was plenty strong enough to stop a handful of raiders. It would never hold against hundreds of adrenaline-charged men high on kill crazy drugs and vengeance.

Gunny shot through the gate, braked hard, grabbed his vest and guns and sprinted for the stone wall to lend his rifle to the fight. The Raiders were coming, they were angry and in a frenzy. Half the cars and trucks had stalled out, sputtering to a stop with clogged fuel lines but that didn’t stop them. They abandoned them, climbed on to passing vehicles and hung on, screaming vengeance. Swearing violence. Promising slow death with lots of pain. When the road became clogged with dead trucks and fallen rocks, they left them and ran for the peak. Urged on by Casey’s voice booming through every speaker, coming across every radio, he pushed them onward and upward. Hearts thudded in chests and breathing came in great, sucking gasps as they sprinted up the hill but they didn’t slow. They didn’t tire. They were almost as insane as day one zombies. Everyone joined the assault: Every warrior, every drugged-up slave, every mechanic or cook. Thousands ran for the gate to shove it aside. Thousands ran towards the victory party in their new stronghold.

Gunny tossed a bandolier of grenades to one of the men and climbed to the narrow walkway that ran along the wall near the top. It was a thousand years old, chipped out of solid rock with stone tools and had probably taken generations. There wasn’t time for small talk, greetings or pleasantries. He and Griz found spots among the men and women and saw they were woefully outgunned by Casey’s men. There were only a handful of guns on the wall, most of them single shot hunting rifles, some antique black powder pieces. Most had slings and arrows, a few compound bows and everyone had piles of rocks to throw. Between them Gunny and Griz had more hardware than the whole village combined.

“There’s some more AR’s in the car.” he said to a young man armed with an old shotgun beside him. “Check the