Undead Insidious

Chapter 8

 So far, everything was going according to plan. Chris drove with Jim, and Nick up front. Johnny and George were in the truck bed, holding guns. Chris had let George temporarily hold his shotgun while they were riding. Johnny looked up at the sky, the breeze feeling nice on his skin, and flowing through his hair. He couldn't remember the last time he really felt air like this. For a single moment, he felt at peace. George and Johnny began a conversation that the other's wouldn't be able to hear.

"Finally getting out of New York City," George smiled.

"What are you going to do, ya know, after I'm gone?" Johnny asked.

"Man, buddy, I don't even wanna think about that..." George looked at the bite on Johnny's hand, then to his back. "How are you feeling anyway?"

Johnny looked down at his bite. "I don't know. I feel like it should have happened by now, shouldn't it have? When the outbreak first started did you see people turn?"

"More times than I would have liked."

"And how long did it usually take?"

George pondered. "I mean, really, not more than maybe eight hours at the most. And even by then the said person would be deathly sick. They wouldn't just randomly turn."

Johnny looked down at his bite once more. "Maybe the virus is changing... I mean, I feel strange, ya know? But I don't feel sick."

"Maybe you lucked out and you're immune," George laughed, almost hopeful. Johnny smirked at the thought.

The conversation was cut by the sound of cawing. Both Johnny and George became alert, looking around. Then, out from behind buildings came the roaring of motorcycles. Three of them, and they were not happy.

"Shit," Johnny called back. "We got company!"

Chris looked into his rearview. "Hang on to something!" he shouted back as he slammed on the gas. The truck was no match for the speed of the bikes as they started to surround them. The bikers came into formation behind the truck, and Johnny started to open fire, but was abruptly knocked down from a bump along with George. The three men grabbed chains from their bikes and tossed them to the back, hooking on.

Johnny tried to get up, but another bump knocked him back down. Chris started to swerve to the left, then to the right, trying to shake them off. But before he could process another thought, the truck hit a large pothole, flipping onto its side. One Biker was taken with but the other two jumped off their bikes in time. The truck kept sliding on the asphalt and then finally fell upside down.

"Shit!" Johnny said, as he looked over at George who was unconscious from the impact. Chris, kicked open his door and crawled out of the driver's side.

"I don't know if the others are alive," Chris told them.

Johnny kicked the shotgun to Chris. "We gotta fight."

"You can't hide from us!" one of the men screamed, firing his gun. "You killed Father!"

Johnny lifted his gun and started to fire back. The crash had created a dirt cloud so heavy he couldn't see through it to tell what he was firing at.

"I can't see a damn thing," Johnny said.

"Let them come to us," Chris said.

"Hold your fire!" came a screech beyond the smoke. The shots suddenly ceased. "I just want the man responsible for the murder of Father. Come forth and the rest can simply leave in peace. I'll give you all until the count of three to surrender yourselves. If the person responsible does not come forward, then we will come down there and you all will die. Is one coward worth your lives?"