Harem in a zombie apocalypse

[98] Break out

The setting sun bathed Banff in a warm, orange glow. As we stepped outside the bar, a wave of cacophony hit us. We turned towards the source of the noise and saw a long line of vehicles stretching as far as our eyes could see.

It was an eclectic mix of vehicles, from old pickup trucks and beaten-down sedans to a few RVs and motorcycles, all packed to the brim with people and their belongings. Tired, anxious faces peered out from the windows, their expressions etched with the exhaustion of a long journey. Children were crying, dogs were barking and the restless honking of horns echoed throughout the town, transforming the serene evening into a scene of bedlam.

The town guards were trying to keep the situation under control, but their efforts seemed futile against the influx of people. They were shouting orders, their stern voices barely audible over the din. Despite their efforts, the line was hardly moving.

Suddenly, the car at the very front revved its engine. The driver, a man in his mid-thirties with a grizzled beard, locked eyes with the guard. The guard shook his head, an unequivocal no. But the man was resolute.

In a swift, unexpected move, he stepped on the gas, hurtling towards the makeshift barricade. The guards dived out of the way as the car smashed through the barrier, splintering it into pieces.

In that moment of shock and confusion, the other cars followed suit. The honking intensified, creating a symphony of panic and desperation. Cars veered off the road, churning up clouds of dust, and others sped through the broken barricade, their drivers' faces set in grim determination.

From our vantage point, we watched in stunned silence as the town's defenses crumbled under the desperate onslaught. The guards scrambled to regain control, but it was too late. The floodgates were open and there was no turning back. The last vestiges of the sunset were replaced with the glaring headlights of the incoming vehicles, a stark symbol of the crisis to come.

The sudden influx of people created a chaotic atmosphere. The tranquility that had once presided over Banff had been shattered within minutes. The unease was palpable, the tension thick in the air as the town's local guards scrambled to regain order.

At first, the sounds of aggressive shouting and car horns dominated the cacophony, but then a new sound sliced through the tumult - the unmistakable pop of a gunshot. Silence fell for a split second, a collective intake of breath from the crowd as everyone registered what had just happened.

Then, all hell broke loose.

The gunshot was like the strike of a match, igniting a powder keg of fear and frustration. Suddenly, more gunshots rang out, their sharp retorts echoing through the streets. People started screaming and scattering in all directions, seeking cover behind parked cars and the facades of buildings.

The guards, caught off guard by the escalating violence, began returning fire, the muzzle flashes from their weapons lighting up the growing darkness. Bullets zipped through the air, ricocheting off vehicles and sending sparks flying. The acrid scent of gunpowder filled the air, mingling with the stench of fear and desperation.

Amidst the chaos, people were frantically trying to get out of the line of fire. Children were crying out for their parents, adults were shouting, trying to locate their family members in the throng. Dogs were barking in panic, adding to the pandemonium.

More vehicles were still pouring into the town, their occupants either joining the firefight or trying to find a safe place to shelter. Tires screeched against asphalt as drivers swerved to avoid the crossfire, crashing into parked cars and creating even more chaos.

From our spot outside the tavern, the scene unfolding before us was a surreal blend of horror and disbelief. It felt as if time had slowed down, the flashes of gunfire, the flying bullets, the terror-stricken faces of people - everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.

"We need to move out of here!" I yelled over the gun shots.

"I am not leaving the loot! Also the guns are still on the truck!" Cody shouted.

Caught in the heat of the moment, I took a quick inventory of the situation. The truck with our loot and firearms was parked a few meters away, adjacent to the tavern. I could see it was untouched, nestled in the relative safety of the shadows. However, to retrieve it, we would need to cross the street, which had become a battlefield of its own.

"Cover me!" I shouted, ready to make a mad dash towards the truck. But Cody grabbed my arm, pulling me back.

"Chang, that's suicide!" he barked, his eyes darting around as he tried to find an alternative. However, I shook my head, determination set in my face.

"We need those guns and supplies. Without them, we're sitting ducks!"

The look in my eyes must have conveyed my resolve, for Cody relented, albeit reluctantly. He gave me a quick nod, pulling out his own pistol and getting ready to provide whatever cover he could.

Gritting my teeth, I ran. The adrenaline coursing through my veins seemed to make everything sharper, clearer. Bullets whizzed past me, some striking the pavement under my feet, sending sparks and tiny fragments of concrete into the air.

Despite the chaos, I managed to reach the truck, sliding in behind it just as a fresh volley of bullets sprayed the area where I had been moments before. With shaking hands, I unlocked the truck and flung the doors open, revealing our precious cargo.

The sight of the guns and supplies brought a surge of relief. Quickly, I loaded up on ammunition and grabbed several guns, shoving them into a duffel bag I found in the truck. Then, as an afterthought, I started loading some of our supplies into another bag.

With everything secured, I prepared for the run back. I knew the return trip would be even more dangerous. The gunfire seemed to be intensifying, and the street was more chaotic than ever.

Taking a deep breath, I braced myself. Then, with a surge of adrenaline, I burst from behind the truck, duffel bags slung over my shoulders. The world seemed to blur as I sprinted across the open street, bullets whizzing past, screams and shouts echoing around me. All that mattered was getting back to safety.

Finally, I reached the tavern and slid into the shelter of its walls, breathing heavily. Cody, Kaya, and Cassidy were waiting, their eyes wide with relief. With a triumphant grin, I unzipped the bags, revealing the guns and supplies. Our survival odds had just gotten a whole lot better.

Q: Have you ever been caught in a riot before?