Pedal to the Metal (Riders of the Apocalypse Book 4) Page 15

  They were more than my horses. They’d been part of my family, and when I cut them loose on our way out of California, the four of them stood abreast of each other looking down on us as if waving goodbye.

  It was the most gut wrenching decision I had ever made, but I wanted desperately to save their lives, and taking them with us just wasn’t the best thing for either of us.

  That didn’t make it any easier.

  That was when Dallas promised me that if we could ever come back for them, we would.

  And so, here we are...hours away from the drop-off point, and I have butterflies in my stomach like a school girl.

  Are they dead?

  Are they still alive?

  Will they even recognize me?

  I’ll soon find out.

  Dallas

  5 Days Ago

  The Livermore Valley, once verdant green and the center of a burgeoning wine industry, was now nothing but dry, yellow hills as the sun beat down upon them. Without water, without care, the vines had died and hung there, desiccated and sad looking, like little gray skeletons reaching for each other.

  “This is it,” Dallas said softly as she brought the Beast to a rest under one of the many oak trees towering above them.

  Turning, she offered Roper a smile of hope. “You okay?”

  Roper swallowed hard. “Like the ugly girl before her first prom.”

  Dallas held one of Roper’s hands between hers. “They could be fat and happy and playing horse games.”

  This brought a slight smile to Roper’s face. “God, I’d love to see that. I have missed them so much.”

  Before Roper got out, Einstein crouched between the seats. “Sure you don’t want company?”

  She nodded. It wouldn’t do to have any of the others see her so crestfallen should she not find them. She couldn’t even think about that possibility. “Thanks, bud, but this is something I have to do on my own.”

  He nodded and patted her thigh. “We’re with you.”

  The sound of the Kawasaki engine revving told her Zoe had started the bike she’d need to take in search of the horses.

  She really did have butterflies the size of bats in her stomach. She was slightly surprised by her body’s reaction to the anticipation. Her babies were out there somewhere, and she might finally be able to see them once again. No wonder she was so nervous.

  What if she didn’t find them?

  Or worse.

  What if she did find them––dead or injured––or sick and emaciated?

  Roper quickly pushed those thoughts away.

  One of them still had to be alive. Even if it was just one of them, she would be able to wash away some of the guilt she’d been carrying with her since they drove away a year ago.

  “Babe, you okay?”

  Roper looked up from her thoughts and nodded. “What if...”

  “No doubts, lover. Not now. We’re here. We aren’t leaving until you’re certain you can’t find them.”

  “Where will you be?”

  “There’s that ranch we passed a mile down the road. I think we’ll clear it out and bunk there for the night.”

  “You sure?”

  Dallas placed her palm on Roper’s cheek. “We’ve been pushing it pretty hard. If there are eaters here, there aren’t many. We should be fine. Take your time.” She pulled Roper to her and whispered, “Keep the faith, love. They’re out there somewhere.”

  Roper hugged her tightly. “Thank you for this.”

  “I’ve not broken a promise to you yet, have I? I told you the day we left them––”

  “That someday, we’d be back.”

  Dallas grinned. “And here we are. Go on. We’ll be fine.”

  When Roper got out and walked back to the idling motorcycle, she nodded to Zoe. “Thanks, Z. I got it from here. If you think riding a Kawasaki hurts, it ain’t nothing compared to a horse’s gallop.”

  Zoe laughed as she swung her crossbow to her back. “Not how we do it, Rope. Sorry, but I’m gonna be on the back of that thing with you. No arguments. If it were anyone else wanting to do this, both you and Dallas would insist someone else go with you. Don’t even bother arguing with me because you know I’m right.” She straddled the seat backwards so that she faced behind them and brought her crossbow to her lap. “You have no idea what’s on the other side of those hills. You want to go get your horses? Get on, but I’m not getting off this bike.”

  Roper did not hesitate, but threw her leg over the seat and revved the engine. “How much gas?”

  “Almost full. There’s plenty. Get your groove on, sister. We’re burning daylight. I can drive if you want.”

  “Oh hell no. I’ve seen how you ride. No thanks! I got this.”

  “Then prove it.”

  “Hold on, then.” Roper yarded on the Kawasaki throttle and took off, heading along the dry grass of the hills.

  The bike was harder to control on the dry grass and loose dirt since it had been designed for paved roads, but once she slowed down, she got the feel of it and headed toward a group of oak trees clustered near the top of the hill where she’d seen them last.

  Suddenly, she slowed to a stop and got off. Kneeling down, she examined a pile of manure. “A day or two old, tops.”

  “Ugh. I so do not want to know how you know that.”

  “I’ve cleaned up a lot of horse shit in my life.”

  “Yeah, you horse types are a half a notch above hippies who rarely shower.”

  Roper grinned and got back on the bike. “We’re looking for water. They would naturally stay near a creek of some sort.” Beads of sweat dotted her brow as the sun beat down on them. “The survival instinct is strong in horses. They’ve been known to die standing up and can stay that way for hours.”

  “No shit?”

  Roper laughed. “Wives’ tale.” Taking off, she fish-tailed a couple of times before arriving at the cluster of trees.

  “Uh-oh,” Zoe said softly from the bike, seeing something ahead.

  Littered around the ground were bones, whitened by the sun, picked clean.

  “Can you tell––”

  “If they’re horse? Not really. Could be cow.” Roper stopped and listened.

  “Rope?”

  “Shh! Do you hear that?”

  Zoe strained to listen.

  Roper saw them a moment later.

  A pack of feral dogs.

  “Go! Go! Go!”

  Jumping on the bike, Roper stalled it twice as the pack grew nearer.

  “Clutch! Pull in the goddamned clutch!”

  Zoe put three dogs down before Roper finally kicked it in gear and wrenched the throttle back, opening her up. The bike fish-tailed as the dry grass would not give the back tire purchase.

  “Gaining!” Zoe said, watching the dogs spread out. “Get the lead out!” She took aim but couldn’t get off a clean shot. Two of the dogs looked like Australian Shepherds and the fourth one back could have been Lassie.

  Roper knew she was pushing the bike faster than what she could safely handle, but didn’t know what else to do.

  “We gotta lay her down!” Zoe yelled.

  “No way! Not with you on the back. I can get us––”

  “Killed is what you’re gonna do driving like this. You gotta do something!”

  Roper’s eyes scanned the hills for someplace where she could give them a fighting chance. She couldn’t lay it down, not with the still-recovering Zoe on the back. She needed a better place to stop…a place where…

  Then she saw it.

  “Hold on!”

  The pack was less than fifty yards from the back of the bike.

  “When the bike stops, hop off and press your back to the tree. I’ll take the other side.”

  “Got it.”

  Zoe was off the bike before it stopped and on one knee, killing one dog and wounding another in the amount of time it took Roper to lean the bike against the tree.

  Their deaths made the pack stop and lower th
eir heads as each dog assessed the threat.

  Zoe counted those in her vision. Two, four, six, ten, eleven.

  They were surrounding them. They’d actually herded them to this spot.

  More bleached bones.

  More death.

  “Fuck. Rope, whatcha got?”

  “Fuckin’ A. I’ve got eight.”

  “I got eleven.”

  The dogs slowly walked forward, closing the circle.

  “Roper, pull the bike on top of you like Hunter and I did back––”

  “No way.” Roper swung her rifle around. “Let’s kill these fuckers before they get to us.”

  “Games not over till it’s over, Roper. Take out as many as you can before we go mano-a-mano.”

  Zoe pulled her machetes out and set them at her feet.

  The dogs began snarling, walking so slowly toward them it looked like an eerie slow motion video.

  “They’ll come at the first shot.”

  “Let ‘em come, motherfuckers. I ain’t nobody’s meal. Ready.”

  “Set.”

  “Fire!”

  THWUP.

  THWUP.

  THWUP.

  Three bolts, three direct hits.

  Just as Roper had said, the dogs closed ranks and started loping toward them, pinning them to the tree but incapable of attacking their flank. Roper took down two and wounded two, but that only made the pack close in faster.

  “Zoe––”

  “Shut up, Roper.” She shot another just as two leapt in the air toward her. One fell dead at her feet with a bolt protruding from its neck.

  Holding the crossbow like a bat, she knocked the second one clean out of the air before swinging it back toward a Husky hurling itself at her, clipping his shoulder and knocking him just enough off balance so his snapping jaws narrowly missed her shoulder.

  “Roper, I gotta go.” Zoe glared at the three mangy dogs staring at her, heads lowered. Two had foam dripping from their mouth. “I love you guys. See you on the other side.” She threw her crossbow at them, picked up her machetes, and took off running into the open.

  “Zoe! No!” Roper lowered her weapon for a moment, fear grabbing her around the neck as she watched Zoe lead the dogs away from her.

  When Zoe bolted, all but two of the dogs ran after her. Roper put those two down before swinging her rifle around and watching in horror as Zoe stood in the open, machetes flashing in the bright sunlight, fur flying as she hacked away at those foolish enough to get too close.

  “God damn it, Z.” Roper squeezed off several rounds, dogs yelping as the large caliber bullets pierced their skin, sending them end over end.

  She knew it wasn’t enough, but Zoe had bought her some time. Roper was determined to make the best of it.

  Jumping on the bike, she revved the engine just as Zoe went down in the middle of the dozen dogs.

  “Zoe, hang on!” Roper pulled her antiquated .357 Magnum out with her left hand and wrenched on the throttle, speeding toward the mass of mangy and mottled fur, throttle in her right hand, revolver in the other, eyes glued to the mass of dogs surrounding Zoe.

  Squeezing off two rounds, she hit one retriever in the hind quarters. The second bullet missed.

  “Get off her, you fucking mangy pieces of dog shit!” Roper could not see Zoe at all and feared the worst. Stopping the bike, she hopped off, firing her next four shots as she closed the gap between her and the snarling dogs snapping and biting at Zoe.

  “Come get it, mother fuckers!” Roper yelled, slamming her speed loader in place before shooting six more times.

  Three hits.

  Three misses.

  Six dogs turned toward her as she reached for a second speed loader.

  It wasn’t there.

  The six dogs ran toward her, growling and yipping as if they enjoyed the hunt.

  Pulling her machete, Roper held it in both hands and took one look at Zoe’s lifeless body. Three dogs pulled at her pant legs as if trying to disrobe her.

  “Come on!” Roper yelled, bringing the machete back. “Bring it, you fucking mangy bastards!” She hit the first dog so hard that the machete dug into its shoulder, ripping the blade out of her hands. The dog landed with a yelp, the large blade still in its back.

  Roper threw her shoulders back and caught the Doberman in the chest, its jaws snapping at her neck and face. She fell to the ground as another dog bit at her ankle, and she struggled to keep the large Doberman from his inevitable finish. Her trademark boots protected her ankle, but she was losing the fight with the Doberman.

  Suddenly, a shadow passed over her face and she closed her eyes so she didn’t see it coming. Something cracked loudly and a wetness splashed on her face. The Doberman slumped dead on her chest.

  That’s when she smelled him.

  Opening her eyes, Roper pushed the Doberman’s caved-in skull off of her and felt her heart race with a different beat.

  It had been almost a year, but she could smell him a mile or a year away.

  Sitting up, she reached for the machete sticking out of the wounded dog, wrenched it free, and decapitated the dog trying to bite through her boots. Scrambling to her feet, she saw all six of the other dogs dead, their skulls caved in as well.

  And there, standing proudly by, was her horse Merlin.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, she grabbed a handful of mane and swung herself up on his now much thinner back.

  “Haw!” She yelled, kicking his haunches and yanking left on the mane.

  Merlin responded as he always had: perfectly and immediately.

  He ran toward Zoe, mane flying, and Roper leapt off when they reached her, machete flashing and dripping blood as she dispatched the last three living dogs.

  “No, no, no,” Roper cried, dropping to her knees and cradling Zoe’s limp body to her. Her overly large leather Harley jacket completely covered her head. “Please, please, please.” Roper begged, pulling the jacket down. “Please be okay.”

  Zoe’s eyes popped open. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

  Roper blinked. “Z? You’re––”

  “Alive and kicking, baby.” Opening her shirt, Zoe revealed one of the hazmat suits. “These suits are fucking kick ass!”

  Roper was so relieved she crushed Zoe to her chest before planting a big smacker on her lips. “I oughtta kill you for that.”

  “So that’s how it is? Love ‘em and leave ‘em?” Zoe grinned, a thin line of blood trickling down her forehead.

  Roper tenderly smoothed her hair back and wiped the blood away. “One of ‘em got you.”

  Zoe gingerly touched it. “Umm. Actually, I think it was you.”

  There was a slight pause before they both laughed.

  “How ‘bout you?” Zoe rose and brushed herself off. “You and your buddy here kiss and make up?”

  Roper looked over at Merlin who casually walked over and put his soft pink muzzle in her hand. “I’m fine. Better than. Zoe, this is Merlin.”

  Zoe cautiously stroked his sweaty neck. “I’m all city girl, Roper. These guys are as foreign to me as drive-bys are to you, but I, for one, am glad he’s on our side. That was freakin’––”

  “Amazing?” Roper kissed his nose, tears coming to her eyes. “Thank you, old friend. Thank you so much.” Wrapping her arms around his neck, she cried into his mane.

  As if in reply, Merlin snorted and looked over his shoulder, his long tail swishing.

  Roper nodded in understanding, backing away from the big animal. “Where’s Gwen, Merlin?”

  The horse stomped the ground as he turned toward the direction he’d come.

  In one swift motion, she was on his back once more, one hand out to Zoe. “Come on.”

  “Let me get our shit. Who knows how many other packs are roaming around?”

  Once she had their weapons, Zoe took Roper’s wrist and was surprised by how easily she swung her onto the back of the horse. “Damn, you’re a female John Wayne or something.”

&nb
sp; “Years of practice,” Roper said softly.

  “Apparently.” Zoe cast a departing glance down at the dead dogs. “Jesus, Roper, look at all those stomped heads. He remembered you. And clearly, he learned his ass kicking ways from you.”

  Roper wiped her eyes. “Yes, Z, he did, didn’t he?”

  “Came outta nowhere, front hooves flying like a boxer’s gloves. He saved your life.”

  “Our lives. He saved our lives, Z. Now, we’re going to return the favor.”

  The ranch house sat high on a hill above what had once been land filled with vineyards and cattle. A newer barn sat dormant in back behind the ranch-style home with a covered riding stable offset to the right of the house, the jumps still waiting for a horse to leap over them.

  Unlike so many of the homes they’d encountered, this one hadn’t been ransacked and there were no man eaters inside, which was a nice surprise. Dallas set two layers of perimeter watch at four-hour intervals. Long ago, they had discovered that the ability to focus on guarding a blank area severely diminishes after four hours, so guards only watched four hours at a time while the others slept, cooked, or prepped weapons.

  Some of the survivors passed out immediately. There was just something about a house that resembled normalcy to them and allowed most of the survivors to relax enough to just let go.

  And they let go hard.

  Their new group of almost forty had five children under the age of twelve. Child survivors were rare, and most no longer had their parents.

  The kids crashed first, and Dallas made sure an adult always guarded them in the event shit went down and they needed instant cooperation. Gathering kids was like herding cats, and even harder to do under duress.

  “How is he?” Dallas asked Butcher as she pulled a ragged blanket over Luke.

  “Can’t tell if he’s better or worse, but he’s still alive. I keep looking for infection, but his stump isn’t hot. I’m pretty sure this is just the remnants of shock.”

  Dallas jerked her head toward the door, and Butcher followed. Egypt was asleep in the arms of one of the older children. The kids adored her and fought over who would get to hold her next.