Sunday, May 2, 2010

American Apocalypse IV - Heartland - Chapter 3g

We were in a kitchen. Someone was screaming over by the stainless steel table to my left. Loco was up and I watched as he sent a three round burst towards the back door. I holstered the handguns and struggled to unsling the Marlin. Somehow in my semi somersault move I had gotten the sling tangled up in all the crap I carried on my belt now. I yanked hard and snapped the swivel. "Shit" I thought "Worry about that later." Who ever it was that was screaming by the stainless shut up which was very nice of them. I looked over at Loco and he signed me that he was headed out the back. I signed back "Wait" and yelled "Carol!"

From behind the stainless steel table two heads popped up. One was Carol. The other was a scared and pissed looking girl of maybe sixteen who was trying to pry Carols hand away from covering her mouth. I pulled the Colt and tossed it underhand to Carol. She caught it nicely but she had to let go of the girl who began screaming "Help!" Carol clubbed her with the Colt. The screamer disappeared and Carol grinned. The teeth had gone yellow but the smile was still great.

My loss of focus was restored by the sound of several high powered bursts coming from Rickys side. "Shit" I would have liked to had a look from above about what was happening outside but my Freya connection was on the blink. I had noticed that once we had put more than forty miles between us and her the connection was sporadic. Our goddess, at least at this point, was about as reliable as most cell phone phones were back when the Burners were taking down cell phone towers daily.

"Well shit" I thought. I was paid the big bucks to make decisions like this. Behind the stainless steel table was a stainless steel sink and counter. Above that was a window. Going out a door was stupid at a time like this. I pointed at the window and gave Loco the two sign. Two minutes, two seconds, two whatevers. Then I pointed at the door. Hopefully he understood. I wanted him to go out the door after I went out the window and distracted who ever was out there. He nodded, and I started running. I leaped, launched again off the table, and went through the window with the Marlin reversed and the wooden butt making contact with the glass first. It was not pretty. It was real glass not spun sugar like Hollywood. I felt my arm get raked like a claw from a jagged piece of glass and knew I was going to be adding to my collection of scars. I remember watching a football player getting interviewed about what he felt like on Monday after a game. His reply was he woke up every Monday feeling like he had been a car wreck the previous day. That pretty much summed it up for how I usually felt after a day like this.

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