Sometimes We Ran (Book 3): Rescue by Stephen Drivick Page B

engine filled the cab. “Don't know.” I slammed the gear level into drive, and put the pedal down. We fishtailed away from the supermarket. “I'm not waiting around to find out.”

Chapter 6: Stranger on a Motorcycle
    “T hat was close,” Claire said, settling down in her seat. “Who was that guy?”
    I gripped the steering wheel of the van until my knuckles turned white The adrenaline was just now fading from my body and my heartbeat was returning to normal. “Don't know. Never seen him before, but he has a shotgun so I'm getting the heck out of here.” People with shotguns usually weren't very friendly these days.
    The van bounced and swayed as we skidded over the curb and sidewalk. I hung a sharp left on the main road, and headed for home. The large vehicle whipped around on the asphalt. Claire hung on for dear life. “Easy. Let's not flip over.”
    “Right.” I eased my foot of the gas pedal. My fear and anxiety was passing. We put the supermarket behind us and were on the way home.
    Or so I thought.
    The pissed off chainsaw noise rose up at the passenger window. The motorcycle man was back. He came out of one of the parking lots and zoomed up to the van. He was so close we could pass him a cup of coffee through the window.
    “John...we got a problem over here,” Claire said. She became engaged in a staring contest with motorcycle man as we drove along.
    “I see it. It's a small bike. Maybe I can outrun it.” I slowly pressed the gas down. Monique's diesel power plant responded with an authoritative throb, and we began to pull away. We were ahead for a moment, but then Motorcycle Man twisted his wrist and caught up. Our van had the horsepower, but the road conditions were the great equalizer. Claire and I couldn't get away without smashing into something and killing ourselves. Motorcycle Man loomed up in Claire's window. He took one hand off the handlebars, and pointed at the side of the road.
    “He wants us to pull over,” Claire said.
    “The hell with that.” I prepared to end this once and for all, and turned the wheel towards Motorcycle Man to knock him into next week.
    Before I could bump the motorcycle and run, our pursuer looked ahead. He gunned the throttle on the little dirt bike, and the engine screamed as he pulled away. His long hair flowed out behind him in the wind. I slowed down and watched as he zoomed ahead to an upcoming intersection. Standing in the middle of the crossed roads were two zombies blocking our path. Motorcycle Man intended to take them on and clear the road.
    Claire's nose was pressed against the windshield. “What is he going to do? His gun didn't work.”
    I stopped the van just short of the intersection to watch the show. “He's nuts.”
    The stranger drove straight towards the zombies in the intersection. They crouched as he approached, ready to give chase. It looked like a suicide run as he got closer. For a moment, I thought he was going to run the undead in the intersection over and grind them up with the knobby tires of his bike.
    “Turn, you idiot,” I said, under my breath.
    Just before man, motorcycle, and Red-Eye zombie were mashed up in some bizarre and horrible accident, the stranger made a sweeping turn into the intersection behind the zombies. The Red-Eyes twisted around to face him, but as he passed, they retreated and ran away. Our new friend began to herd them away from the road and into hiding.
    “It's the noise. The zombies don't like the noise of the dirt bike. It confuses them,” Claire said.
    “Son of a bitch. He cleared the road.” I put the van back in gear and hurried through the intersection. Our helper on the dirt bike came back to the road, and led the way.
    And that's how it went. Like an escort for an aircraft carrier, the green bike with the strange man in the seat led Claire and I down the road. When a zombie popped up, he would ride over and lead it away from us. We went along like that for several miles. The stranger would