“Nothing is safe in this world, but it's safer than where you were,”
Bill added truthfully.
The family
clung together. They were terrified. It was the father's sheer determination that had kept them alive. A long time survivalist, his house had withstood the attacks of the zombies in the first days.
For awhile, they had lived in the basement, but then the plumbing had failed and they had carried everything up into the attic. Bill had to respect their tenacity.
Katarina stared out the back window, her long red braid curling over one shoulder. “Shit! We have company!”
The Reverend twisted around in his chair and saw a truck racing toward them from behind. “Why are you afraid of them? Aren't they also survivors?”
“Not everyone in this world is a good guy, Reverend,” Bill tersely answered. His hands tightened on the steering wheel.
As the truck raced to catch up with them, Katarina could see two men in the cab. There was a camper attached to the bed of the truck. It looked ominous to her.
“I see only two guys,” she called out to Bill.
Bill kept the van moving at a quick pace and dared to look in his rear view mirror. The men looked scraggly and rough. The truck was gaining fast.
Katarina scrambled back to the passenger seat and let out a deep breath. “This feels bad. ”
“I agree,” Bill answered in a low voice.
“Who are those men?” the father asked.
“We think they are bandits,” Bill answered. “I want all of you to get down on the floor right now. Keep your heads down and keep as close to the floor as possible. ”
“I thought you said my family would be safe!” The young father with his scraggly black hair looked both frightened and angry.
“They will be. Just get down!”
The pursuing truck was moving in fast.
Katarina looked back to see that their passengers were nervously obeying. She usually loved rescue missions. The expressions on people's faces as they finally saw other humans, their sense of relief at being safe and the exclamations of thanks made it all worth the risk.
Usually on rescue missions, they had to fight zombies, but this felt worse somehow. Fighting other humans in a dead world was just wrong.
The truck was now pulling up beside them. Katarina could clearly see the mud and gore spatters over its roughened side. What appeared to be bullet holes pockmarked the truck bed. She flicked the safety off on her rifle and took a breath.
Bill glanced over into the cab of the truck as it pulled up close and began to pace them. A scruffy man with lots of wild blond hair rolled down the window and began to shout at them. It didn't take a lip reader to see he was yelling at them to pull over.
Bill shook his head and pressed his foot down.
Again, the truck pulled up. The scruffy guy leaned out of the window and literally knocked on Bill's window. His voice was barely heard above the whine of the road and the wind.
“We want to be friends with you,” he was yelling. “We want to be friends!” But his look was too wild and he looked at Katarina in a way that made Bill want to bash his teeth out with his rifle butt.
Glancing over at the unkempt man, Bill said, “Sorry. Gotta keep moving. ” And he floored the mini-van.
The children were now crying and their parents were trying to shush them. The Reverend was praying softly.
Katarina made sure her seat belt was on tight and watched the truck anxiously. The guy who was banging on the window had crawled back into the cab and was talking with the driver.
“We're almost to the bridge,” Bill said to her. “We have to beat them there. ” The van had pulled ahead enough for Bill to swerve in front of the truck. He wasn't sure who had souped up the min-van, but he felt like hugging them at this moment. The engine was roaring. So far, it was handling fine.
The truck gunned it, then swerved sharply in front of them.