Life Among The Dead (Book 3): A Bittersweet Victory (14 page)

“Bitch, you better git back…”

“Bitch? Oh, you have no idea! Howard, are you
going to let him talk to me this way? Or treat your dad like
that?”

Howard remains quiet. One of the large thugs
holds a shotgun less than a foot from his face. His wife scoffs at
his inaction.

“What’s the fuss, people? We’re offering you
a great opportunity here,” the leader says, while running a comb
through his thick black mane. “Look at what you’re packing. Two
rifles and some field hockey equipment. We have really big guns and
lots of--”

Gloria utters something under her breath that
infuriates him.

“Overcompensating?” he screams, as he scans
the people in front of him. Even his thugs stifle their smiles.
“I’ll show you what your smart mouth is good for!”

He grabs her by the back of her head, tightly
entangling his fingers in her hair and pulling her from where she
tries to help Gabe. Then he yanks her by her arm and storms away
from the worried looking spectators and crying children.

His quick pace is hard for Gloria to keep up
with. She screams out in pain and fury.

On the other side of his truck, he makes
Gloria kneel. Then he unzips his fly and tells Gloria what she
expected.

“I hardly ever do that for my husband.” She
grimaces at the sight of his penis. “I’m sure as hell not going to
do it for you!”

He shoves his hand down her white tank top to
grope her breasts. When she denies him and pulls away, he squeezes
hard.

“I ain’t asking!”

Something odd draws her attention away from
the offensive thing he pushes closer to her face. Out of the corner
of her eye, she sees a brightly colored, juggling clown barreling
down on them on a unicycle.

The leader follows her gaze, but is too
late.

A loud slam precedes a heavy object striking
the leader’s windpipe. Then a second strikes his exposed genitals.
All of his aspirations evaporate once he hits the ground and tries
to breathe.

Gloria marvels at the heroic jester who is
about to collide with the black truck. Instead he slides under it,
his one-wheeled steed making sparks of friction along the
asphalt.

“Clown! Clown!” one of the large thugs
shrieks. He drops his weapon and hides behind his remaining massive
partner.

Everyone is taken off guard, none more so
than the thug being used as a human shield. Before he can raise his
weapon, the clown draws a pistol from the fake potbelly of his
costume while still lying on the street.

“Let me guess. He’s afraid of clowns, right?
Thinks we’re creepy?”

The clown disarms both remaining thugs before
his backup arrives.

###

Vida remains quiet, listening to the screams.
She begged Gloria internally to stop making things worse, and then
started to cry for her as the woman was dragged off. Vida thinks
about Brad and how he had similar intentions for her, and she can’t
believe the world they now live in has become such a nightmare.
Loud pops made her cringe and fear that the men had just shot one
of her new acquaintances. But high-pitched cries about clowns have
her completely baffled.

Gabe appears at the sliding door. “Vida, you
can come out now. It’s all over.”

She emerges from her hiding spot and enters a
surreal scene. Her fellow nomads smile as she studies an ice cream
truck, a purple Camaro, and the small band of thugs lying face down
on the ground. Perhaps the oddest addition is a clown in full
regalia who Gloria approaches and kisses on a painted cheek.

“Thank you! That was incredible,” she gushes.
“It’s more than my husband was going to do for me.”

“Aww, Gloria! What could I do?” Howard
says.

The clown introduces himself to the convoy as
Brock Rottom, while he and Gabe use the laces from a box of shoes
in Pastor Jim’s van to tie up the villains. Two young men traveling
with Brock hold weapons on the thugs. The sight of the two, in
their camouflage fatigues, makes Vida’s heart skip a beat. All she
can think about is Brad. The spell of post-traumatic stress passes
when she sees they are different. They also travel with a woman in
a maid’s uniform who carries a baby on her hip.

“You all hungry?” Brock asks, dusting his
hands after securing the criminals.

The thankful travelers nod.

“Oh, I am going to make you such a
feast!”

The clown plods away on oversized feet,
completely overjoyed to have so many grateful diners to provide
for. Vida hugs Gabe for his thoughtful actions on her behalf, and
his bravery in the face of such a threat.

One of the soldiers, Brock had called him
Rage, strolls up to the relieved pair. “Where are you all
heading?”

“Florida,” Gabe says. “I have a place in
Harrington.”

“It’s a long way. We’re heading to Fort Eagle
Rock. You can all join us.”

“No, thank you. We do appreciate the rescue,
but my farm can provide us with what we need.”

Rage compares stories with Gabe regarding the
past couple days, but Vida only half listens. The other soldier
keeps looking at her, and when she returns his gaze he breaks eye
contact. She grows uneasy about the one called Chachi, who looks
vaguely familiar, and now walks up to them with an odd look upon
his face.

Chachi stands among them, across from Vida,
who instinctively wraps her sweatshirt around herself tightly when
she notices him staring at her chest. He’s nodding along to his
partner’s story but continues to look her up and down. She wonders
if he’s checking her out, or if he’s seen the bandage below her
‘Zurvived’ t-shirt. Either way, she is compelled to cover herself
up.

Rage and Gabe conclude their recaps and make
polite small talk. They take comfort in the act of simply
speaking.

“Florida. I’m kinda jealous,” Rage tells
Gabe. “They say the winter here is going to be a real bear.”

“That’s what I heard,” Gabe agrees. “That’s
why I decided to retire someplace warm. No shoveling or salting, no
slipping and falling.”

“Food’s up!” The clown calls from the serving
window of his ice cream truck.

Vida and Gabe excuse themselves just as
Chachi is about to speak. Gabe offers her his arm so he can escort
her to the first real meal either has had in a while, which as it
turns out comes with a show that is also free. Brock the clown
delights the diners with balloon animals and magic tricks. However
no stunt, nor treat, not even his best joke, brings the group more
joy than what he has already given them--their freedom.

The convoy of survivors has not only been
bestowed with a bountiful feast and many provisions to take with
them on the long trek south, but they also receive many of the
firearms the thugs that had stopped them were carrying. Pastor Jim
and Gabe conversed with the clown and soldiers about what to do
with the criminals. They couldn’t execute them, nor did the
soldiers want to be burdened with taking them to the base. They
decided to let them go, after giving the convoy a generous head
start with the new weapons. To do otherwise would be akin to a
death sentence.

The pastor put it best, “Perhaps if we show
them mercy, they will follow our example.”

As they push on, the survivors can only hope
the savage men have learned their lesson.

To their surprise, the road is unusually busy
today. A small red truck now approaches them from the opposite
direction. It is so similar to the one that ambushed them it makes
Gloria slow down. Cautiously she crawls past it, not sure what to
expect. Howard is ready in the passenger seat with a rifle just in
case.

The man behind the wheel offers them no
threat, just a stoic hand in the air as he coasts by. A sign of
camaraderie that is happily returned by each motorist. They are
relieved to share the road with peaceful people, as well as the
heroes out there that will stand up for underdogs like them against
bullies and bandits.

Not much road passes beneath them before they
see yet another vehicle coming from the opposite direction. A
massive RV that is so wide it practically spills over the yellow
lines on the blacktop. The driver of the Winnebago offers the same
greeting as the battered, bloody-faced man that passed them in the
red truck.

Gabe assures Vida they will be turning off of
this highway halfway between Poland Creek and Waterloo, where
they’ll head due east for a while. Everyone agrees that they will
be much happier when they are on a road less traveled.

Nursing a bruised ego and sore testicles,
Marko is on the lookout for someone to punish for his embarrassing
attempt at recruitment. Not only were he and his men rebuked, they
were forced to lie on the road, ignored like garbage, while the
people ate and talked. His blood boiled as the children laughed and
the clown made jokes at their expense. After the caravan was on its
way, the jester made them swear that they wouldn’t continue with
their ‘evil ways,’ and he warned that the next person to stop them
may not be so lenient.

“Fuck that clown,” Marko says, now alone in
his truck.

He may have lost most of the guns he and his
boys had loaded into their beds that morning, but they still have a
few, and the radios they acquired from their headquarters. Like a
schoolyard bully, he feels he needs to make someone else pay for
his recent scolding and the disrespect he was shown, and pay big.
He sits in wait like a spider on a web while Jessie and Biff troll
the side roads. Then he spots their next target.

“That’ll do.” He sneers at a large RV, then
calls out his orders over a handset. He wants the cousins to catch
up to the camper and drive them to the location of his
choosing.

It was only a stroke of luck that he spotted
the RV from a side road. He races ahead to position himself for
another ambush.
This
is
different
, he tells
himself.
There’s
only
one
of
them
.
It’s
big
and
slow
.
Easy
pickin’s
.

Parked across the road leading into Poland
Creek, he waits. Jessie and Biff have been ordered to toy with the
behemoth. Ram it from behind to make the driver panic and more
prone to making a mistake.

The RV turns left as the red truck crashes
into its rear end. It almost rolls as the tires on its left side
lose contact with the road. With a squeal, the RV stops just short
of Marko’s truck and reverses. It doesn’t seem to be planning a
retreat but gaining room to dart around the obstruction. Marko
fires a short burst from his AK-47 but is unable to take out the
tires.

Sufficient room gained, the camper jolts
forward to swerve around the truck. Marko unleashes another salvo
into the windshield and the driver reacts, banking too hard to the
right. The RV rolls.

Like a die cast, the boxy recreational
vehicle strikes the hard surface with every side until momentum is
spent and fate chooses which one it’ll come to rest on. It briefly
slides along the asphalt on the driver’s side.

Beaming with pride, Marko lights a cigarette.
His associates join him to admire their toppled quarry. “Jessie,
get in there and see if there’s a prize inside.”

The RV has landed door side up. Jessie must
stand in the bed of his truck to climb up while Biff brings him
into position. Marko is surprised the two came up with the idea all
by themselves, He expected to have to watch the heavy man attempt
several times before instructing him.

The crippled RV shakes as Jessie scrambles to
exit after what seems like an excessively long inspection to Marko.
Jessie grimaces and grunts as he emerges topside with the pilfered
booty.

“This is all they have?” Marko can’t believe
it. He expected it to be a piñata full of goodies. That anyone who
could afford such an extravagant vacation vehicle would have more
to offer than a cooler of sandwiches, warm sodas, and a
nickel-plated 9mm. “Fuck!”

“There’s two oldies inside,” Jessie says,
still huffing and puffing from his workout. “I think they’re
dying.”

Ignoring the concern in his lackey’s voice,
Marko tells him to haul them out.

“I’m not sure if we should move them,” Biff
says. “Couldn’t it make their injuries worse? If we want to help
them…”

“We’re not helping them,” Marko says. “Just
get in there and haul them out before they croak. I want them
chained in the back of my truck. Got it?”

While his men toil inside the cavity of the
RV, struggling to carry out the survivors, Marko sits on the hood
of his truck eating the lunch of his victims and contemplating his
next move.
Let’s
see
what
else
the
road
has
to
offer
.

“I’m just saying it was bigger than yours,
Howard,” Gloria says. “Maybe I should have just gone for it.”

“I’m sure that asshole is sorry he missed out
on having to hear you complain the whole time,” Howard says. “Guys
love that.”

“In my experience, they do. It makes them
feel more endowed.”

“Terrific,” he ends the topic before it leads
to his wife reminiscing about her ex-boyfriends, as that usually
results in a blowout. “Our turn is coming up.”

“Do you think I’m fucking stupid? I know our
turn is coming up. We drive this once a year.”

“I was just--”

“Treating me like an idiot. After all I’ve
been through.”

“Been through? You just said you wished you
had sucked his--oh, shit!”

It’s been almost two hours since they spotted
any traffic. If not for their adherence to the speed limit and the
two-second rule, every car in the convoy would be rear-ending the
vehicle in front of them as Gloria abruptly applies her brakes.
Coming off of the road they had planned to turn onto are two large,
olive green vehicles. The military troop carriers are forced to
stop suddenly as well, and their tires chirp from the effort.