Floyd & Mikki (Book 1): Zombie Hunters (Love Should Be Explosive!) (16 page)

Mikki hit the cruise control and drove along at 75 mph. Floyd was asleep again on the passenger side. Munch was curled up in a little ball next to her. It was a hell of a fight, but in the end Floyd gave up. Mikki said if he wanted her to get rid of the kitten, he would have to take it from her. The look on his face was hysterical. She didn’t know who Floyd was more afraid of, her or the cat.

It was the second day since they had left Groverstown, and Mikki had driven most of the way. She had really gotten the hang of driving the truck and she loved it. Looking up ahead, something didn’t seem quite right in the distance, so she slowed down.

“So you’re wearing a pony tail now?” Floyd asked, waking up when the truck stopped.

“Yeah. Fits better under my helmet this way.” She wasn’t wearing her helmet at the moment.

“Looks good.”

“Thanks, Floyd. That don’t look good, though.”

She passed the binoculars to Floyd. There was a makeshift roadblock of smashed cars and other debris piled on top of each other up ahead. Some kind of shanty town built right on the highway, complete with a watchtower. No doubt someone was watching them as they were watching the roadblock. There were signs of movement in the area.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“Let me look at the maps. Best to go around if possible. I don’t like the looks of this.” Floyd handed the binocs back to Mikki, who took another look.

“Uh-oh,” she said. “Forget the maps, Floyd. Here comes the welcoming committee. And they are ug-ly!”

“Better do something with that damn cat!” Floyd warned.

Mikki grabbed Munch and threw her into a small nylon bag and closed the drawstring. Then she hung it on a hook above the back cab door intended for clothes hangers. They didn’t plan on picking up laundry from the dry cleaners anytime soon.

“And don’t let the cat out of the bag!” Floyd ordered. Mikki shot him a weird look until he realized what he had just said. “You know what I mean! Just drive! They’re getting closer.”

Mikki fired up the engine and spun Freedom around the best she could. She still didn’t quite have the hang of burning rubber or doing doughnuts. The truck had pretty good acceleration, but before she could get past 50 there were about six motorcycles and four tube-framed dune buggies around them. One of the dune buggies to the rear had a 50-caliber machinegun mounted on top.

The raiders didn’t have the greatest fashion sense. Each sported an odd assortment of piercings and tattoos. Floyd didn’t know you could put a safety pin in that part of your face. Whoever these guys were, they weren’t the local Shriner’s Club.

“Hey! It’s a girl!” One of the bike riders called out. “Hey, girlie! Pull over! We’ll give you a ride!” For some reason, he and his buddies found that remarkably funny and they all started laughing. He made some kind of gesture with his tongue that was probably intended to be sexual, but it just made him look even stupider (if such a thing was possible). Mikki was not amused.

“Remember those defensive driving courses you said you took?” Floyd asked.

“Yeah.”

“Well, the best defense is a good offense.”

“Got it.”

Mikki swerved quickly to the left and knocked over the nearest biker. He, in turn, knocked over the biker next to him.

“That reminds me,” Floyd said, “I gotta teach you how to play dominoes sometime. Fun game.”

“So’s this,” said Mikki. She swerved hard to the right but the bikers there were ready for her and dodged out of the way. Two more bikers started coming up on her left.

“Hey, Floyd. You know how they say to drive with both hands on the wheel?” Mikki asked, pushing the button to lower the driver’s window.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I got a new driving rule. One hand on the wheel, one finger in the air!” She stuck out her left arm and flipped off the riders. They didn’t appreciate the gesture and started shooting at the truck’s tires with pistols. Fortunately, Floyd had filled the tires with a special rubbery goo, so they wouldn’t go flat, no matter what he ran over.

“Damn, Floyd! When did this movie go from
Dawn of the Dead
to
Mad Max?
”

“Apparently, about two minutes ago.”

“Well, I got a new movie for these assholes.
Armageddon!
”

Mikki pulled the pin from a grenade with her teeth and spit it out onto the floor of the cab. Looking in the rearview mirror, she lined up the truck, kissed the grenade, and dropped it out the window. “With love from Floyd and Mikki!” she shouted.

The first two motorcycles dodged it easily, but they weren’t her target anyway. The buggy with the 50-cal ran right over it just as the grenade went off. It blew about three feet into the air when the gas tank exploded in a ball of flame. One of the motorcycle riders snapped his head around so fast to look at it that he lost control of the bike. It wobbled a bit, then crashed, flipping side over side until it skidded to a gruesome halt.

“Yeah!” Mikki screamed out the window. “Weebles wobble and they
do
fall down!”

She hit the gas and got it up to 70. Then she engaged the cruise control and put Floyd’s hand on the wheel. “Keep ‘er steady!” she shouted. Floyd wondered what the hell she was doing, but by now he knew better than to ask. He’d see soon enough.

Mikki zipped up her jacket and snapped the neck shut, quickly put on her helmet, and grabbed one of the Mini Uzis. Unbuckling her seat belt, she turned around and leaned out the window, firing at the nearest biker. His midsection blew apart in smoke and flame. Zeke wasn’t kidding about these antipersonnel rounds. If there was a heaven, he must be lookin’ down, smilin’ right now. That thought, along with the utter mayhem she was creating, made Mikki smile.

“You do know the movie
Armageddon
was about a meteor, dontcha Mikki?”

“Don’t ruin the moment, Floyd!” She blew away the two closest bike riders on her side as they shot into the cab. She only used short bursts, but the bikers erupted in a cloud of flame and blood. The three remaining dune buggies turned tail and headed back.

“Oh, no you don’t!” shouted Mikki. She jumped back into the cab, grabbed the wheel, hit the brake and almost managed to spin the truck completely around. She hit the gas and took off after them. “You’re turn Floyd,” she said, passing him the Uzi.

Floyd rolled down his window, lined up the helmet of the closest driver and fired. The buggy veered off to the right and jumped the guard rail. Must be pretty hard to steer without a head.

The others were scared to death now. They opened up the throttles and zigzagged around to avoid being hit. It didn’t quite work. Soon another driver’s head turned into a roman candle. Floyd was as greatly appreciative of Zeke’s special ammunition as Mikki was.

Mikki skidded to a stop as the last dune buggy made it back behind the barricade. Mikki opened the door, Stood up outside the cab and yelled, “That’s right! Run you mothers!” A puff of smoke came from the watchtower and a bullet sent Mikki flying back into the cab.

“Sniper in the tower,” Floyd remarked.

“No shit, Sherlock! Really? I hadn’t noticed!” Mikki answered as she checked herself for damage. “Ouch! Goddammit, Floyd! Why does everybody have to shoot me in the tits!”

“Well, they do make for a large target. Oh, crap, I just sneezed inside my helmet! Yuck!”

Floyd had his door open, his hunting rifle nestled into the arch where the door joined the cab. He was hunkered down as much as he could, protected by the bulletproof windshield and the bulletproof door window. He was completely focused on the tower.

“There you are. Hello!” He squeezed the trigger carefully, sending the copper-jacketed bullet on its way. As he watched through the scope, he saw the sniper’s head explode in a mist of blood and gore. “And goodbye!”

“Oh, you have got to be shittin’ me!” Mikki cried, peering through the binoculars.

Four more dune buggies emerged from the barricade. These, however, were better armored with steel plates welded to the frame. No open tube construction on these. Each driver had a passenger with a machine gun in the back. The oncoming raiders took turns firing at Floyd and Mikki, but the bullets bounced off the truck.

“Goddammit! Stop shootin’ at my truck!” Floyd screamed.

“Relax, Floyd. Truck’s bulletproof. You said so yourself.”

“The windows are bulletproof. The truck ain’t! I built it to protect against zombies, not a bunch of G.I. Joe rejects!”

“Then you better start shootin’ back.” Mikki handed Floyd his shotgun, loaded with slugs, along with a couple of extra mags. Looking through the binoculars, Mikki said, “Shit, Floyd, we are way beyond Thunderdome, now.”

Floyd didn’t need binoculars to see what she was talking about. It was some kind of big-ass snowplow with a huge nose. Additional armor plating had been welded onto the monstrosity, including over the windshield. Only two small slits about three inches high and three feet wide allowed the driver and passenger to see out. That made for an extremely tough shot. To make matters worse, it had no tires. It ran on metal tracks, so nothing they had on hand could disable it.

Floyd fired a couple of slugs at the dune buggies to make them keep their distance. They drove around in circles taking potshots at Floyd’s truck without getting too close, being more than content to let their big brother do the dirty work. The plow headed straight at them up the middle of the road.

A spray of bullets hit the front grill of Floyd’s truck, ran across the windshield and blew off the outside rearview mirror on the passenger side. Floyd cursed up a blue streak as a burst of steam started blowing out from under his hood.

“You handle the soft targets, Floyd. I got the big guy.”

“Right!”

Floyd kept peppering the dune buggies. They sped around the asphalt like mosquitoes, making it hard to aim. But Floyd took his time. He lined up every shot. If he didn’t hit one of the occupants, he at least hit the vehicle somewhere and that was enough to convince the drivers to keep their distance. He must have hit a gas tank, because one of them blew up from the rear. That didn’t keep the Snowplow-From-Hell away, though.

Mikki loaded up Bonnie with anti-armor rounds. She had plenty from the nuke plant, but there weren’t many left in her mags, so she aimed carefully. Fortunately, with the big brute barreling straight down on them, she had an easier target. She squeezed off a round.

The bullet bounced off the inside edge of the driver’s side slit, smashed through the windshield and went bouncing through the cab. It didn’t hit anyone inside, but it spooked and infuriated the driver, who up until now was convinced he was safe. The plow began swerving right and left in a serpentine pattern, slowing its approach, but not stopping.

“Perfect!” Mikki smiled. “Floyd! Try to put a slug between them slits. Just keep him swerving!”

Floyd sent a slug bouncing of the armor only inches away from the sweet spot. The driver heard it, though, as the projectile slammed into the armor too close for comfort. He continued to dodge left and right with the huge vehicle.

Mikki grabbed one of the RPG cases. It wasn’t hard to figure out. A small sticker on the side said, “Turn knob and press button.” One end cap popped open, a sight popped out to the left, and a pistol grip dropped from the bottom. She lined up her shot and waited for the plow to swerve to her right. As soon as it did, she led the target and fired at the front of the track.

The plow, however, swerved back to Mikki’s left as the rocket shot ahead. At first, Mikki thought she missed, and quickly grabbed the other RPG case. By the time she raised her head again, however, the missile flew in between the front of the rack she had aimed for and hit the inside track. There was a tremendous explosion as the track blew apart. Flying metal shrapnel and debris wiped out the two nearest dune buggies. The last one made a hasty retreat, as the plow sat there motionless, burning.

“Yeehaw!” Mikki screamed. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about! Come and get it!” She aimed through the scope of the second RPG and fired at a weak spot in the barricade between two piles of junk cars. She blew a hole in it wide enough to drive through and the explosion caused the rest of the barricade to topple over. Dropping the empty launchers outside, she jumped back into the driver seat and fastened her seat belt.

“Buckle up, Floyd! Gonna be a bumpy ride!”

“You just won’t quit until you blow us up, too, will you?” he said, quickly following her advice.

The truck was still running, despite the steam pouring out of the front grill. Mikki slammed her door shut, hit the button to raise the window and floored it. She drove right through the flaming wreckage of the barricade, bounced over a couple of raiders and looked for a way out on the other side as bullets drilled the truck’s tires and bounced off the windows. Floyd wasn’t much of a religious man, but he prayed like mad that they would keep shooting at the windows and a bullet wouldn’t hit one of the full gasoline cans in the truck bed. That really would have ruined his day.

Mikki saw her chance. There was a wall of sorts about eight feet high at the back of the compound. A makeshift ramp allowed guards to reach the top of the wall to patrol. She drove the truck right up the ramp and went sailing over the wall. Neither Floyd nor Mikki knew if the road continued past the wall or if they would find themselves dropping into a gorge.