message.”
I turned back to the nightmare chasing us, and heard her say, “Hello, this is Katie. Hi Puck! I’m good, how’re you?”
My girlfriend is so cool.
We swerved into the HOV, barreling past slower traffic and accelerating to thirty-five miles per hour, forty, forty-five, fifty, and put some distance between us and our pursuers. They couldn’t keep up. Samantha’s rifle clattered to the metal truck bed and she reloaded a pistol. “One more magazine,” she called above the wind. “THIS is why you needed to MOVE!”
“You were right.”
“I was right,” she snapped.
“I know!”
“You have bite marks all over you. Good thing they aren’t zombies; I’d have to shoot you.”
“I already have their disease.”
“Yeah well. Maybe I should shoot you anyway.”
We staggered and nearly fell as Katie sideswiped a Lexus. “Sorry!” she called.
“Easy on my truck, Lopez!”
“Puck is on the phone. He’s coordinating with the FBI. A helicopter is landing a mile ahead to pick us up.”
“Where?”
“In the middle of the road.”
We inspected the pack of animals still chasing us, fifty yards back. Their eyes burned.
“This is going to be close,” Samantha yelled, now eyeballing the Black Hawk settling northwards. “Tell them to warm up their fifty cal. We’ll need it.”
Katie’s calm voice drifted back to us. “Hello, Puck? Would you please advise the pilot to prepare his or her fifty caliber machine gun?”
I observed, “She’s handling this really well.”
“Nerves of steel,” Samantha nodded. “She’s a tough one.”
Thirty second later, the Black Hawk landed and immediately stalled northbound traffic. Instant collisions. Our truck ground to a halt three hundred yards away, at the backup.
I said, “Let’s go.”
Katie climbed down from the truck and I hauled her onto my back. “Hold tight,” I cautioned.
“Always.”
Samantha sprinted into the congestion, and I Jumped . Katie and I launched into the morning haze, twenty, thirty, forty feet high. She gasped and tightened her grip. We soared towards the Black Hawk and then plummeted back, my heart in my throat. I softened our fall, bracing and bending knees at the last instant, surging forward and crumpling car roofs. One more leap and we landed twenty feet from spinning blades.
“Move, move, move!” Samantha cried. I helped Katie into the metal gunner bay and turned to see Samantha leap over the final car. The closest Chosen were Jumpers and Sprinters, and they burst through the traffic jam twenty yards behind. The pilot swore loud enough for us to hear. Engines roared and we lifted off. There was no .50 caliber machine gun, but the FBI agent at the door began firing his rifle. At ten feet, Samantha Leapt the distance to our crowded gunner bay. She slammed into me but I held my ground, like part of the fuselage.
Three heartbeats later, the Chosen began Jumping but we were too high. They fell short. Our pilot kept climbing, as though he couldn’t get far enough away from the freaks. We were safe.
The pilot yelled, “We’re going to get Special Agent Anderson. I hear he’s trapped and lonely on a roof!”
We sat and panted and trembled on the shaking deck. Below, Chosen scrambled and retreated as police moved in with weapons blazing. The trail of destruction we left was a stain across an otherwise perfect canvas, a rip in the fabric.
“Well,” I said, taking deep breaths to calm my nerves. “Isaac will have his blood samples now.”
The FBI agent in the gunner bay stared at me. I bet I looked ridiculous, covered in bites and holding a stick.
“Hey Outlaw,” Katie said. She smiled sadly. “You forgot something.”
“What?”
“To put your mask on.”
Whoops.
I felt like I’d been dumped in ice water. The FBI agent was staring at Chase Jackson, inspecting him like a fascinating zoo animal. The Outlaw’s true identity, now exposed. Hundreds of people saw me on the interstate. The media would
I turned back to the nightmare chasing us, and heard her say, “Hello, this is Katie. Hi Puck! I’m good, how’re you?”
My girlfriend is so cool.
We swerved into the HOV, barreling past slower traffic and accelerating to thirty-five miles per hour, forty, forty-five, fifty, and put some distance between us and our pursuers. They couldn’t keep up. Samantha’s rifle clattered to the metal truck bed and she reloaded a pistol. “One more magazine,” she called above the wind. “THIS is why you needed to MOVE!”
“You were right.”
“I was right,” she snapped.
“I know!”
“You have bite marks all over you. Good thing they aren’t zombies; I’d have to shoot you.”
“I already have their disease.”
“Yeah well. Maybe I should shoot you anyway.”
We staggered and nearly fell as Katie sideswiped a Lexus. “Sorry!” she called.
“Easy on my truck, Lopez!”
“Puck is on the phone. He’s coordinating with the FBI. A helicopter is landing a mile ahead to pick us up.”
“Where?”
“In the middle of the road.”
We inspected the pack of animals still chasing us, fifty yards back. Their eyes burned.
“This is going to be close,” Samantha yelled, now eyeballing the Black Hawk settling northwards. “Tell them to warm up their fifty cal. We’ll need it.”
Katie’s calm voice drifted back to us. “Hello, Puck? Would you please advise the pilot to prepare his or her fifty caliber machine gun?”
I observed, “She’s handling this really well.”
“Nerves of steel,” Samantha nodded. “She’s a tough one.”
Thirty second later, the Black Hawk landed and immediately stalled northbound traffic. Instant collisions. Our truck ground to a halt three hundred yards away, at the backup.
I said, “Let’s go.”
Katie climbed down from the truck and I hauled her onto my back. “Hold tight,” I cautioned.
“Always.”
Samantha sprinted into the congestion, and I Jumped . Katie and I launched into the morning haze, twenty, thirty, forty feet high. She gasped and tightened her grip. We soared towards the Black Hawk and then plummeted back, my heart in my throat. I softened our fall, bracing and bending knees at the last instant, surging forward and crumpling car roofs. One more leap and we landed twenty feet from spinning blades.
“Move, move, move!” Samantha cried. I helped Katie into the metal gunner bay and turned to see Samantha leap over the final car. The closest Chosen were Jumpers and Sprinters, and they burst through the traffic jam twenty yards behind. The pilot swore loud enough for us to hear. Engines roared and we lifted off. There was no .50 caliber machine gun, but the FBI agent at the door began firing his rifle. At ten feet, Samantha Leapt the distance to our crowded gunner bay. She slammed into me but I held my ground, like part of the fuselage.
Three heartbeats later, the Chosen began Jumping but we were too high. They fell short. Our pilot kept climbing, as though he couldn’t get far enough away from the freaks. We were safe.
The pilot yelled, “We’re going to get Special Agent Anderson. I hear he’s trapped and lonely on a roof!”
We sat and panted and trembled on the shaking deck. Below, Chosen scrambled and retreated as police moved in with weapons blazing. The trail of destruction we left was a stain across an otherwise perfect canvas, a rip in the fabric.
“Well,” I said, taking deep breaths to calm my nerves. “Isaac will have his blood samples now.”
The FBI agent in the gunner bay stared at me. I bet I looked ridiculous, covered in bites and holding a stick.
“Hey Outlaw,” Katie said. She smiled sadly. “You forgot something.”
“What?”
“To put your mask on.”
Whoops.
I felt like I’d been dumped in ice water. The FBI agent was staring at Chase Jackson, inspecting him like a fascinating zoo animal. The Outlaw’s true identity, now exposed. Hundreds of people saw me on the interstate. The media would
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