Morning -- En route to Valley Point
The motorcycle tore down the cracked spine of Route 11 in the chilly morning air.
They were behind schedule according to procedure. Base liked to track its agents in the field.
Adem keyed the radio.
“Base, this is Agent Adem. Target retrieved. En route to Valley Point via Route 11, southbound. Track my Q-watch.”
Static.
“Roger. Location confirmed.”
Charred wrecks littered the highway. Ev3 had never seen Valley Point. She’d only heard the rumors. Clean water, guarded fences, and lighthouse walls high enough to matter.
“How long have you been there?” she yelled over the engine.
“A year. It’s stable. You’re done out here. Your file said…important.”
“What do you know?”
He didn’t answer. He just revved the engine.
The trees blurred past, twisted survivors in poisoned soil. The road worsened.
They slowed and stopped in the middle of the highway. The billboard read:
GASO-HUT 10 MILES
“The ‘95 gang is getting to be a problem,” she said. “Any alternate routes?”
“No. Not enough Gaso-Green.”
“Old Town?”
“Dry four months ago,” Adem said. “We go the long way. Less risky.”
Every road meant risk. Every delay meant fuel.
They switched seats after some time. Ev3 rested lightly behind him, rifle across her lap. She didn’t trust easily. The bike had saved her too many times.
They were pushing forty-five when Adem saw it in the mirror.
Raider Gang. Three vehicles.
Closing.
Fast.
He revved the engine hard.
“Ev3!”
She was awake instantly.
Bullets snapped past them, ricocheting off the rear shield. She twisted and fired controlled bursts, brass spraying behind them. A raider car swerved and crashed into the trees.
He swerved between wrecked cars. They were gaining.
More pursued. A bullet shattered the side mirror.
“We gotta get off this road.”
Adem veered off at the next exit and slammed into the lot of an abandoned gas station.
They moved without speaking into the guts of the station.
Positions. Cover. Sight lines.
A rusted truck circled the building once, black smoke coughing from its exhaust.
“Who are they?” Ev3 asked.
Adem sniffed once.
“Flesh Fiends. Must’ve followed us from the hotel.”
Her jaw tightened.
“I’ve been dodging them for a week. ”
The truck screeched to a halt.
A red-mohawked man leaned out, shirtless, mouth sliced and crudely stitched.
“Hand over the pretty lady, meatsack, and we’ll let you live. ”
Laughter from the truck bed. Like hyenas circling a carcass.
“We’ve been tracking her for a while. You got Twenty seconds.”
“So have I,” Adem muttered. “Not giving her up.”
The Fiend began counting.
“TWENTY.”
The number echoed through the parking lot.
“Fifteen.”
A car engine revved.
“Eleven.”
“You’re dead, swine,” someone snarled.
“Ten.”
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Skipped nine.
One thug in cracked leather and a gimp mask hopped in place.
“Meat, meat, meat! Need me some leg meat!”
“Easy, Igor,” Mohawk said. “We eat soon.”
“ONE.”
Gunfire exploded through the walls.
Drywall shattered. Glass burst inward.
Ev3 flattened behind the counter. Adem lay prone near the window, returning wild shots.
A firebomb hit the exterior. Flames licked up the siding. Smoke filled their lungs.
This might be the end, Ev3 thought.
Adem rose just enough to fire, dropped one . Then ducked again as bullets tore splinters from the shelves above him.
“You shot my gimp!” Mohawk screamed. “We’ll gut you both!”
Ev3 checked her mag.
Empty.
She transitioned to her revolver smoothly.
Adem checked his bandolier.
Low.
He felt the weight of two grenades in his coat.
Outside, the Fiends howled.
“We’ll wait you out, meatsack!” He howled.
Adem keyed the radio.
“Control, this is Adem. Gas station off Route 1A. Heavy contact. ”
“Copy. Merrimon inbound. Hold. ”
Adem exhaled slowly.
He held up the grenades so Ev3 could see.
“If they breach, I’m not letting them take you,” he yelled over the noise.
She nodded once.
No fear in her eyes.
Just calculation.
Minutes stretched.
Smoke thickened.
Then the Flesh Fiends went silent.
Not cautious.
Panicked.
They waited for the next barrage.
Out of bullets now. Two grenades left.
A new engine roared down the highway.
Through smoke and heat shimmer, something armored and black cut through the haze, heavy, deliberate.
Bahrooo!
A heavy horn blasted across the highway.
Birds scattered from the trees.
The vehicle didn’t look scavenged.
It looked designed. .
The truck rumbled like a thunderstorm bottled in steel.
Once a military transport, now reinforced into a rolling fortress. Matte plating swallowed the sunlight. Welded sheets overlapped at harsh angles. Firing slits cut narrow and precise. A weathered . 50 caliber rested above the cab, gunner ready.
Chained treads wrapped thick tires.
A faded red skull marked the driver-side door.
It didn’t purr.
It snarled.
“This is it,” Adem said quietly.
“Either help…or the end. ”
The Flesh Fiends stopped laughing.
Then they scrambled.
“Move! Move!” Mohawk shouted, climbing into the truck bed.
Too slow.
The . 50 opened up.
The sound wasn’t gunfire.
It was industrial violence.
The Fiend truck disintegrated under it.
Metal folded.
Glass atomized.
Bodies tore apart mid-scream.
The lot, filled with red mist and shredded steel.
Silence followed.
The armored rig rolled forward and stopped with a screech.
Engine idling.
Watching.
Adem peeked through broken glass.
Then he exhaled.
“That’s Merrimon and Santiago.” He exhaled “We're coming out!” .
Santiago stepped down from the driver’s seat. Engineer boots, a greasy green mechanic’s jacket, and a tool belt.. Wire-rim glasses rested on his nose, giving him the look of a quiet professor, but the oil stains on his hands said otherwise. A worn newsboy cap sat low over sharp, thoughtful eyes.
Calm.
Unhurried.
Adem came out first, hands visible.
They clasped forearms. Dust poofed between them “You owe me, bro,” Santiago said. “You’re late. ”
“Highways are getting worse. ”
“They always are. ”
Adem motioned toward the station.
“She’s with me. ”
Ev3 stepped out slowly, pistol holstered but close.
Smoke stung her nose.
The Merrimon backfired. Ev3 jumped back.
#21. Fear is natural. Let it sharpen you.
She stepped toward Merrimon.
Santiago studied her…not leering.
Assessing.
“So you’re the one,” he said.
“You caused quite a search operation”
She wasn’t sure what the correct response was.
So she nodded once.
Adem rested a hand briefly on her shoulder.
She didn’t pull away.
Her pulse was still elevated from the firefight, but something else was settling now.
Control.
Structure.
Backup.
“All right,” Santiago said.
“Mount up. We don’t linger. ”
Day -- Enroute to Valley Point
The Merrimon rolled towards home. Ev3 watched the trees fly by from the passenger seat.
Adem followed a few car lengths back on Ev3’s motorcycle, the engine whining high as he kept pace. The bike handled the curves better than the truck, but he stayed behind the Merrimon’s massive rear armor. If something came out of the trees, he’d rather it hit Santiago first.
Inside the cab, Santiago leaned forward over the wheel, squinting through the thick windshield.
“Adem,” Santiago said over the radio. “Have you ever seen mutated bugs before?”
“Not for a while. How big?”
“About the size of a damn turkey. ”
Adem craned his neck around the Merrimon’s side just in time to see them.
A swarm of bloated flying bugs crawled across a cow corpse, darting back and forth.
Santiago grinned.
“Well,” he said, cracking his knuckles on the wheel, “I’m gonna ram ’em. ”
Adem immediately tightened his grip on the bike.
“Hold tight!” Santiago yelled.
The Merrimon’s engine roared as he floored it.
“YEEHAW!”
The armored truck plowed straight into the swarm.
SPLAT.
Greenish bug guts exploded across the grill. Shells popped under the tires like wet gravel. One of the creatures burst against the windshield and smeared sideways in a streak of slime.
Adem burst through the mess a second later on the bike, skidding slightly as the tires rolled over the pulped remains.
“Gross,” he muttered.
Inside the cab, Santiago turned on the windshield wipers.
“Road’s clear. Mostly”
