At the End - a post-apocalyptic novel (The Road to Extinction, Book 1) (11 page)

“Who’s to say, bro? It’s not a car part, and
Mike, is it?” Mike nodded at Jacob. “Mike might be on to something.
We should ditch it.”

Mike was pacing back and forth. “Ditch it,”
he shouted. “We should just get the hell out of here and leave it
behind.”

“Nah, it’s too dark, the lights are too
bright. They have aircrafts that can spot us from the sky,” Jacob
stated.

“We’ve got to do something with it,”
Penelope said. “We can’t keep it with us.”

“What was that?” I said, breathing
heavily.

The house went dead. Ears grew sharp.

“Are we going to die?” Jane asked, nestled
against her older sister.

Penelope stroked her sister’s back. “No,
we’re not going to die. We’re going to find help; it’ll be all
right . . . it’ll be all right.”

“Let’s calm down, we’re all just a little
spooked,” Maggy said.

“We have to leave, we have to leave now,”
Mike argued.

“We just have to get rid of that thing, we
don’t need to leave,” Félix replied.

Mike went over to the back window. The
blinds were drawn down and closed. He still held the cylinder in
his hand. He rested the gun on the windowsill and peeked
outside.

I glanced over at him and the cylinder as it
flashed blue again.

Without warning, two giant paws broke
through the glass, digging into Mike’s skull. The paws wrenched his
body out the window, into the quiet night.

The twins were screaming, and Penelope
looked utterly paralyzed.

My throat closed as my head swam with
black-red streaks before my eyes.

“Get away from the windows! Get away!” Maggy
screamed. She bent down and grabbed a second pistol. Félix did the
same.

I put the shotgun to my shoulder, since it
had bruised my gut earlier. Jacob had never mentioned how to
properly fire it. I should have known from all the video games, but
I just didn’t think of it when the alions were around. I didn’t
really think at all, almost as if my brain just shut down, running
away, leaving me only with nerves that hated the thought of real
confrontation.

I yanked Penelope away from the window.
“What are you doing, get away from there!”

Her eyes were glazed over, too foggy to see
me right in front of her. Her sisters needed her comfort, her
strength, but she was gone.

I knelt down by the sofa. “It’s okay. It
will be okay. I’ll protect you. Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”
Some instinct inside took over when I saw how fragile they were,
how much they needed a soft voice to care for them. “Get down on
the floor behind me.” They slid off the cushions in a hurry,
huddling.

My throat battled with me, not wanting to
let any oxygen in, but I popped an inhaler in my mouth and sprayed.
I narrowed my eyes on the broken window, with a sour feeling
crawling up from my stomach, a feeling of imminent attack.

I bolted upright and fired.

The alion pounced silently through the large
window, forepaws outstretched, gliding through the air like a dart.
The spatter of shots blew the alion’s face right off. The body
thudded against the back of the sofa, throwing my legs out from
under me. I smacked my head against its top. Despite the pillowy
nature of the sofa, it scrunched up my nose. I flopped over onto my
side, holding my face.

Félix crept near the arm of the sofa and
peeked over. “It’s just a pile of blood.”

I got up and checked. All that remained of
the alion was its huge body without a head. Blood was gushing out
of its thick neck. “We gotta leave,” I said, holding back the urge
to puke.

“I’m with ya, bromigo.” Félix nodded. He
gathered up the duffels we had brought into the duplex.

Maggy went to the front door, key in one
hand, pistol in the other, and her axe tied across her back. She
threw open the door, scanned. “Nothing. Let’s go,” she
whispered.

Félix hustled Penelope over the threshold
and into the car. Jacob followed next, while I came up the rear
with the twins.

Jacob opened the driver’s backdoor, and as I
lifted one of the twins into the car, out of the shadows an alion
lunged at the second twin. I whipped around, grabbing the shotgun
as it rested against the car body. I knew the recoil was going to
hurt, but I didn’t have time to bring it up to my shoulder, and I
pulled the trigger with the butt stuck in my stomach. Another
bruise was coming, that was certain. I groaned as the gun dug into
me; it felt like the gun was going to come out the other side.

Jacob had jerked Amanda out of the way. At
least I thought it was Amanda, but I had never been very good with
remembering names. The shotgun spray blasted through the alion’s
chest and legs. It fell in a mangled mess of blood, fur, bone, and
organs.

Jacob passed me Amanda, and I set her down
next to her sister. Penelope scrambled over the compartment between
the two front seats. She climbed into the back with her sisters,
ducking low, squeezed together. They were bawling and with good
reason. If I hadn’t pissed my pants when Maggy had thrown the steak
knives at us two days before, I certainly did then.

Félix hopped into the passenger’s seat. I
helped Jacob into the back and he scooted over so that I could get
in faster. As I slammed the door shut, I yelled: “Go! Go! Go!”

Maggy had the car fired up, and she slid it
into reverse, peeling out of the driveway. The police motor
accelerated on par with the Trackster, and she wheeled us down a
wide neighborhood street.

“Everyone all right?” Maggy asked. She
didn’t get much in the way of answers, mostly groans, and some nods
out of her sight range.

I cleared my throat. “What the—”

BAM.

An alion smashed into my door. It was trying
to run us off the road like in a high-speed chase in the movies.
After its impact, it maintained a gallop alongside us, by my
window.

“Faster!” I cried.

It bumped us again. The car wobbled.

The well armed take advantage
, I
repeated in my head.

Jacob tapped me on the shoulder. “Here.” He
handed me an OMP2. “Better than the shotgun.”

I rolled down the window and just held down
on the trigger. The recoil went into my wrist, less than the bite
of hammering a nail into a wall, impossibly smooth. I didn’t know
how many bullets filled that beast, but it didn’t last long.

Maggy drove on.

I hit the button that rolled up the window,
exhaling the biggest, longest breath I ever had in my life.

We drove for hours without saying a word to
each other. The only noise came from the newcomers in the back:
they wept until the sun rose. In the morning sunlight, we zoomed
along a lifeless road that connected to Tacoma.

Maggy drove so fast that she didn’t notice
the road spikes across the lanes until it was too late. She slammed
on the brakes. POP—the front tires. POP—the back tires. Air rushed
out, but they were cop tires, extra resistant. Maggy turned the
wheel left, then right, then back again, out of control.

Even with my blood pumping wildly, I still
heard her yell: “Hold on! We’re gonna crash!”

I braced myself for the end.

Maggy

I
lost control of
the SUV and we rammed right into the tail of a pickup truck. The
airbags deployed, smashing my face.

I didn’t know how long we sat there, but we
just sat there, in the silence of the world. I pushed my face away
from the soft pillow. It was so hot. I thought I was on vacation
near the equator. Once my eyes focused on the steering column, I
realized the truth, the situation of my environment. It wasn’t a
vacation.

I turned my neck toward Tortilla, and it
popped several times, each one a moment of relief, followed by a
dull pain. Luckily, Tortilla had braced his body well enough, using
the door handle and the armrest. He had still hit the airbag.

He looked over at me, his face red and
pulsing, and his glasses slightly bent. “Are you okay?”

I nodded. I stared at him, blinked, then
opened my mouth to talk, but it was too dry as my words scraped
against my throat. I found the water bottle that had rested in the
cup holder, now by my feet. I took a drink. My eyes shifted between
fuzzy and focused. “I’m having a hard time seeing.”

He blinked. “Yeah, me too.”

I peered out the windshield: three men
stood, statues in the shadow of the street. “Hell.”

Tortilla looked forward. “You thinking bad
news?”

“I sure am.” The pistol was still in the
compartment under the main console. I snatched it up.

The three men walked out of the shadow, into
clear view, boasting assault rifles over their shoulders.

“Bad, bad news,” I said. They looked dirty,
sweat-stained, and full of malevolence. In other words: dangerous.
I turned the key. Nothing happened, not even a sweet sound that a
possibility existed for the motor to fire up.

“Get out, princess. You too, spic,” the
middle one said. His lanky body looked strung out and aged, his
back slightly humped. A huge, bushy beard hung under his chin, down
to his chest; it was a frizzy clump of grayness.

“What do we do?” Tortilla asked. He grabbed
his two guns, held them below the airbags, so that they couldn’t
see them from the outside.

“Don’t know. I think they flattened our
tires.”

“Why would they—”

“Didn’t you hear what they called you? We
gotta get out of here,” I said, trembling.

The others were starting to groan as they
came to, disoriented. The crash wasn’t that bad. The front looked
as if it might be crumpled, but it could have been a lot worse if
we had been going faster.

They lowered their rifles, aimed at the car.
“Get out now!” the middle one shouted.

The one to the left of the middle one was
tall, round, and empty-eyed, as if his mind was melted. He opened
Tortilla’s door, pointing the rifle in his face. “He said get out.
So come on already, get out.”

Tortilla was shaking wildly. The guns
slipped from his grip. The guy yanked Tortilla out by his shirt
collar and threw him to the ground. “What do you want? What do you
want?” Tortilla screamed, his voice a few octaves higher than
usual.

“The girl,” the middle one said.

“What do you mean, the girl?”

“He’s not very bright, chief. Freddy can
have him,” the big one said.

“Like a spic is something I want,” Freddy
said, the short, bald man to the left of the middle one. “Chief, I
don’t want no spic, you hear?”

“I never said you had to have him,” the
middle one said. “Get the other two out of the back.”

Freddy took point in front of Tortilla,
aiming at him with steady hands. The big one went to the doorless
backseat and pulled out Jacob, who had passed out.

“What are you doing?” Jelly said groggily,
gazing at the big man who held Jacob over his shoulder. He laid
Jacob next to Tortilla. He went around the car and wrenched Jelly
out of his seat, gripping his shirt by his chest. “Stop. What are
you doing? Stop it. Put me down.” The man dropped Jelly next to
Jacob, smiling down at them.

“Come on, princess. I ain’t gonna wait all
day for you,” the middle one said—the one they called “chief.”

I stared at them, terrified. My heart was
near the point of exploding. I couldn’t move.

“None of them seem all too bright, chief,”
the big one commented.

“Looks to be that way, go grab her,” Chief
said.

The big one walked around the smashed
truck.

I still held the gun, unbeknownst to them. I
steadied my nerves to pull the trigger when the door opened. I
waited as he paced around the truck, and with every step closer, my
finger twinged, like sharp needles poking and poking relentlessly.
I aimed right for where his gut would be when he was close
enough.

“What are you eyeing?” the big one barked as
he neared.

At the sound of his voice, the gun slipped
out of my hand as I jolted. I needed the gun; it was my lifeline,
my only hope. I reached to get it, but he knew I had something, and
he rushed to open the door.

“What do ya got there?” He clutched my arm
and squeezed with his massive hand.

I wiggled, trying to get free. No use.
“Stop! You’re hurting me.”

“I can’t hurt a cute little princess like
you.” He squeezed even harder. “Oh, we’re going to have fun with
you, little princess.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shape
pop up from behind the backseat. The gun blast rang in my ear. I
stared at the man, gulping in air. Blood poured out of his throat.
He staggered back and keeled over onto the sidewalk. The other two
ducked in reaction. They couldn’t see Penelope behind the tinted
police windows. She shot through the crack in the open passenger’s
front door. The bullet blew through a window across the street.

The two men whirled around, crouching.
“Where’s it coming from?” Chief yelled. Another window broke up the
street.

I unbuckled my seatbelt, found the gun under
the GO pedal, and slid out of the SUV. I gingerly stepped over the
big one, then wheeled around the front of the car and fired. Blood
splattered around Freddy’s left kneecap.

A shout burst forth as the man flew face
first to the road.

Penelope shot off a few more rounds.

Chief twisted around and sighted me. I
ducked behind the car. I ran around the backend, when I came around
the corner, I saw Chief peering down at Jelly.

“Mr. Hammolin?” Jelly said, surprised. He
coughed twice.

Chief yanked Freddy out of the road and into
the building across the street. I fired at their boots, but every
bullet missed its mark. “Get up, get up,” I yelled. “We have to
move.”

Penelope threw open the hatchback, setting
her sisters onto the concrete. “Through the store.” She pointed to
a jewelry shop to the left of the SUV.