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Dead Men Walking
Topic Started: Nov 28 2014, 02:20 AM (71,015 Views)
Make-7-Up-Yours
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Is that so?
"With all due respect, clinging to the morals and rules of the old world in this new world is a surefire way to end up in the same place as aforementioned old world. That is to say, gone." Despite his verbose phrasing, Maxwell's meaning was precise. "Every rule that you follow is simply one more advantage they have over you. I am not an advocate of needless barbarism, but there are some things you simply cannot run away from or trick your way through. I feel like this bridge problem is fairly straightforward."

"I'm sorry, Maxwell, but I don't believe that." Randall countered bluntly. "Even if I did believe that we had to become murderers to adapt, I still think Emmett's idea of a distraction is the best choice we have. We don't want to stir up a hornet's nest; there could be far more than six that Marcus and Candice saw."

Randall turned his head to Brandon. "And we can't know for sure unless we scout them out. But if it gets too dark, we won't be able to see anything."

As if to interrupt Randall's thoughts, Glenda came walking back up to the group yet again. She wore a serious expressions on her face and had a difficult time meeting Brandon's gaze.

"We may not have that kind of time. Marcus. Candice." Glenda immediately looked at the two newcomers. "How long would it take to get to your camp from here?"

"It only took us about two and a half hours to get to the bridge from our camp." Candice told Glenda in her soft voice.

"Yeah, but that also involved a few circumnavigations and shit." Marcus added on. "We had to find the best way over here. With that knowledge now, even in the dark, I could have you back there in an hour and a half, two hours tops."

"Good." Glenda told them with a fire in her eyes.

She turned her attention to Randall and Eli; "Whatever we are doing, we do it as quickly as we can. Willow's still losing blood and fading, I don't think she will make it through the night without proper treatment."

"Shit." Marcus seemed surprised at the news.

Randall had been prepared for that news, but it still struck him like an arrow. Willow was dying. Multiple gunshots wounds aren't just something someone can usually recover from, especially with as much internal damage as she probably took. Even without taking the punctured lung into consideration, it was highly likely she was suffering from a good deal of internal bleeding with a hint of sepsis to round it all off. He gritted his teeth; he wished he had taken Chris up on his offer earlier. He should have taken the risk.

Kelsey looked visibly shaken by the revelation too, but immediately tried to hide it.

"In that case, I am making the call now. We are going with Emmett's idea of a distraction. Draw them out and slip past them. We'll make it as fast as we safely can." Randall looked unwavering in his decision as he looked at the big man himself. "How do you think we should go about this?"
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DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
The bad news, combined with his uncertainty about this decision, left Eli feeling intensely frustrated. He looked over at Emmett, since he was the one that made the suggestion. The long-haired man didn’t look satisfied – Eli didn’t even know what that would look like on him – but at least he no longer looked disturbed by the conversation.

“I’ll take my bike and go now,” he said, talking a little faster than usual. At least he seemed to recognize that time was of the essence. “I’ll get close. I’ll stake them out. I’ll take one of my radios. Once you distract them, I’ll tell you when it’s safe.”

It was slightly longer than he usually talked, but as direct and to the point as always. Eli appreciated that he was quick and cogent in a situation like this. It’s what he hoped for when he invited him along.

“So it’s still on us to come up with this distraction,” Jeff pointed out. He looked extremely anxious, but managed to keep talking anyway. “What are you guys thinking? An elaborate song and dance number?”

“I got something that might help,” Eli cut in as soon as the thought hit him. “Jeff, my pack’s in the Explorer too. Hand it to me. Carefully.

Jeff did so without complaint, crawling through the side door and into the back again. He returned only momentarily, hauling the heavy backpack out with him. Eli stepped forward to accept it, then opened a certain pocket, producing the last green hand grenade he had taken from Old Fort Erie.

“Honestly, I’ll be happy to get rid of it,” Eli said. “I’m always worried it’s gonna malfunction and blow us all up.”

He looked up at the group for a reaction. Emmett’s was the most interesting – was it recognition? It took Eli longer than it should have to remember that Emmett had lived at the fort. He probably had seen this before. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything that would derail the meeting.

“I should…”

“…go, right,” Eli finished his sentence, nodding. “That’s a good idea. Go, we’ll take care of this.”

“I’ll leave the other radio in the front seat,” Emmett nodded back. “I’ll just need my bike.”

“Right,” Eli said. “Jeff, help…”

“…help Emmett with his bike? Yeah, I’m on it,” Jeff said, immediately following after the bigger man.

“So this’ll make some noise,” Eli said to the rest of the group, holding the grenade up in his hand. “That’s one puzzle piece. Who’s got the rest?”
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Strompy
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More posts, more Busey.
"Explosion. Flames. Gunfire. Rotters. It has to look like a real shit show to get their attention. We need whatever's left in that jerry can. We blow something it, we leave what's left of the spare ammo in a pool of gas. Fire catches the gas, sets off the ammo. The flames and noise will draw rotters. I'd want to check that much activity out, might mean I could scavenge some gear. I'd go in force too, since it sounds like a warzone. They leave, we rush through, we don't sneak. Can't sneak a yellow truck past somebody. The skeleton crew will leave one maybe two behind. Eli and I can keep them pinned with suppressing fire from the SUV while the truck leads the way." Brandon shot off his idea rapidly.

Willow was in worse trouble now. But she had a chance, and he could do something about it. He was completely functional now. His eyes were cold and his mind was focused.

For Willow.
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Is that so?
"It's as good as anything else we can hope for." Randall said of the plan.

Honestly, he probably wouldn't have even thought of using the ammunition to create a small scale explosion. Definitely one of the advantages to having so many reliable people around. He could tell that the sense of indecision was still weighing on everyone, but he had made his choice. That was something he could contribute right now.

Before he could even give the order, Glenda dropped the bag of leftover ammunition they had gotten from the police college on the ground.

"This much should create enough more than enough noise to get their attention. But we'll be left with very little if we need some for a fight before we hit Flint."

"I swear, you'll be fine. We know the safest route there." Marcus rebutted quickly.

"It's fine, Glenda." Randall assured the woman. "It's a risk we gotta take regardless now."

Glenda paused, took out her knife, and walked past everyone. The rotter that had been following Marcus and Candice was finally getting close. She held the blade steady, stepped back when it lunged forward at her, and then came forward, planting the blade directly through its eye.

"Ho, damn. She's good." Marcus was impressed.

"Everyone else needs to get ready as well." Randall announced. "As soon as Emmett takes off, we're going to find a place to set up this trap."

Realizing her error, Glenda sighed and picked the bag of ammunition back up and returned it to the SUV.
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DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
As if in response to Randall’s order, Eli heard the revving of Emmett’s sports bike. He looked over in time to see Jeff backing away as Emmett tore off in the direction of the border. He looked determined. Eli tried to summon the same look.

Eli marched over to the passenger’s side of the trailer’s cab. He reached through the open window and retrieved one of the transceivers, which Emmett had left exactly where he said he would. A day ago, Eli remembered this device was a source of great anxiety.

A lot can change in a day, he thought – and it turned out that thought didn’t give him a lot of comfort.

“We’re ready,” Eli said for the group as he returned to the huddle, radio in hand. “Let’s find this place.”
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Brandon opened the bag of ammo and began reloading their magazines. He also took the time to load their two shotguns, they'd go to Max and Jeff. If there was going to be a fight they were going to help this time. That still left enough spare to create a convincing simulacrum of a firefight.

Brandon handed his SIG to Julie, as her Browning was just about dry. She took it awkwardly with her small hands. It was larger than the .22.

"That's got a little more kick to it." he said simply.

Julie looked at him with concern. He had a thing for Willow and she clearly reciprocated. This situation was bad for everyone, but it was Brandon, Glenda, Randall and Kelsey who were probably feeling it most. They seemed the closest to her, and Randall had that whole burden of leadership thing.

"How you feeling?" she enquired tentatively.

Brandon look thoughtful for a moment as he slid a spare magazine for his FAL into his pocket.

"Calm."

He had something he could do now.
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Is that so?
"Marcus."

Randall addressed the the man that had just come from the bridge; he seemed to be the more talkative of the two of them that they found.

"How far away are we from the toll station they control?"

"Not far, actually." Marcus admitted, pointing back the way they had just come. "Continuin' up this freeway here, they got about 2 more big exits. 'Bout 2 miles there, the whole thing turns into a toll station for the bridge, which is where they're camped out. Nice thing is, thanks to the curve of the road and the trees, they can't really see you comin' down the highway. Took us almost half an hour to get here, man, on a car though you'd be able to see 'em in a couple minutes."

Randall pursed his lips. They were already close. The problem he was coming across was the toll booth itself was situated on the same freeway that they were on now. Obviously they couldn't put this distraction on the freeway, they needed to find a place off the freeway. And even while it was off the freeway, they needed to make sure that they could be out of sight by the time those guys showed up.

"There was a big building we saw through the trees between the two exits." Candice seemed to read Randall's mind.

"Oh yeah, that museum or some shit, right?"

"I... don't think it was a museum, babe." Candice sighed.

"Yeah, well, it was still a big buildin'." Marcus rolled his eyes.

Between the two exits. That meant it would definitely be close enough for them to hear from the toll booths. They could enter and leave through the first exit while the skinhead, as Marcus knew them as, entered the area through the second exit, allowing them to swing around behind them and make a break for the bridge. Randall wasn't sure if they could come up with a better idea or not, but it was the best they had right now.

"Then we'll set it up there." Randall confirmed out loud to everyone. "Eli, would you mind driving Emmett's van?"
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DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
“Whatever I gotta do,” Eli said with a nod. He waited for the rest of the instructions.

* * *

The cold air whipped Emmett’s hair back and stung his face as he sped down the 402 towards the border. He saw several roamers on the way over, but none of them in groups, and none of them had time to fixate on Emmett before he was passed them, leaving them confused and aimless.

In no time at all, signage indicated he was approaching the bridge. Without slowing down, he jerked the handles of his bike and leaned right, exiting off the road and onto the grass. He spit a trail of dirt behind him as he expertly navigated a dip and a rise in the ground, and then rode between two trees, their thin branches shrugging off his broad shoulders.

He passed a house and then emerged onto a two-lane street – St Clair, according to a sign he glimpsed. He came to an almost-sliding stop as he rotated his bike, then hit the gas again a moment later, cruising between residences until he spotted one he liked.

His mind was mostly clear as he rode – it tended to be that way, which was a big part of the appeal. All he allowed himself to focus on was the objective, and finding the best way to achieve it. Thanks to the group’s acquiescence minutes ago, it wasn’t even clouded by thoughts of murder, like it had been since he discovered his brother’s body. It wasn’t even clouded by worry or doubt, like it had been during his week on the road before that.

Emmett felt bad for Willow, but her predicament came as a weird sort of relief. For the first time in a while, he knew what he had to do, and he wasn’t conflicted about doing it.

He drove into the parking lot of one of the St Clair houses. Customs was nearby. On the other side of the street was a parking lot for its employees, blocked off by a large fence. From the attic window of the house he chose, he should be able to see over it and surveil these skinheads who had supposedly made it their home.

He turned the key in his bike and then flipped the kickstand before marching towards the door of the house. He was concerned the engine sound might attract roamers to his attention – in which case he’d handle them – but he was more concerned the convicts had heard it. If Eli and the others did their job, however, those convicts would have other things to worry about soon enough.

Eli bent over and retrieved his knife from under his pants leg, then grabbed the handle to the door of the house. He found it locked, so he took a step back. He drove his heel into the ground, leaned back, and –

CRACK! He kicked the door near the lock and it went down.

Without missing a beat, he raised his knife and advanced. He moved fast and sure, looking and listening for any sign of un-life.

He found one – a roamer in jeans and a t-shirt appeared in the doorframe to a nearby kitchen. It snarled once before Emmett grabbed it by its neck with one hand, and brought his knife down into its forehead with the other.

There was another groan nearby. Another roamer – this one an older woman, in a long and modest nightgown – appeared from behind the first. Emmett shoved the lifeless body of the one in his hands towards it. It bounced off its shoulder, sending it spinning slightly but not toppling it. When it straightened itself out, though, Emmett was ready with the knife. The female rotter let out one last strangled groan before Eli pulled the blade from its skull.

There were no more groans after that. Emmett moved quickly – while still cautiously – up the first set of stairs, then another set of stairs after that. He found himself in a furnished attic featuring the round window that had caught his attention. Emmett holstered his knife, then fished out and unfolded his binoculars before taking his position.

Like he thought and hoped, he had a decent perspective on the checkpoint where their unwitting enemies had set up. The area was relatively expansive, and Emmett could only see a fraction of it, but he caught a glimpse of movement in the window of the biggest building.

The whole area was well barricaded, though. Along with the concrete walls that already existed, they had cars and makeshift wooden stakes to keep people out – and to advertise the consequences of disobeying that edict. Like Marcus had reported, there were dead bodies hanging from the upper levels of the building facing the Canada side, acting as a grisly warning to stay back.

At the checkpoint, all of the booths had been blocked off by cars, except for the one closest to the building Emmett suspected they were in.

The sight reminded Emmett enough of the situation at the Peace Bridge to make him sick. It sparked a renewed wave of anger about what happened to his brother – what he had let happen to his brother. Even with no one around, however, he showed no external reaction. He supressed his revulsion and remembered his mission.

He reached into his pocket for his transceiver, then held down the button. He raised it near his mouth.

“I’m here,” he said simply. “I see them.”
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Is that so?
"Garret? What the fuck are you doing up there!?"

The screaming over the handheld radio jolted Garret awake. He found himself looking up at a sky that was quickly losing its color as nightfall approached. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and quickly grabbed the radio off his belt.

"Calm your tits, Cory. This thing stopped working on me for a while there, think I'm gonna need new batteries soon." Garret smoothly passed the lie across while trying not to sound like he just woke up.

"Doesn't fuckin' matter. Listen, did you hear something a few minutes ago? Like a motorcycle or something?"

Those people that they had robbed earlier were the first people he'd seen in a week. They got a working car, a few guns, and some food out of the deal; so it was definitely a good haul. But to hear a motorcycle on the same day? Seemed pretty unlikely. Something like that would have woken him up. Theoretically.

"A motorcycle? Didn't hear nothing up here, boss." Just to be safe, he got to his feet and peered through a pair of binoculars he had on him. "Don't see nothing either."

"Well keep your eyes open."

**********

"Do you mind if I take the radio?" Randall accepted the device from Eli as they split into their own vehicles.

With a renewed sense of urgency, they quietly took off down the 402 towards the bridge. With Glenda leading the way in the Explorer and Eli driving Emmett's van directly behind them, it was truly less than a mile to the first exit that Marcus had mentioned.

"Right here." Candice, who was still huddled in nothing but Eli's jacket, pointed at the exit to Christina Street.

Glenda plowed through two rotters loitering near the end of the off ramp without a care in the world.

"It should be on the other side of this block." Candice announced as they reached the bottom.

Glenda took a right.

From the middle seats he shared with his daughter and Marcus, Randall noted a sign that said 'Province of Ontario' and underneath is several smaller signs, including 'Ministry of Attorney General' and 'Ministry of Public Safety and Security'. The building in the lot beyond it was a large lot that looked a lot like a mix between a government building and a prison. A few rotters, some of them still in police uniforms, shambled around the large field and parking lot that preceded the buildings.

"I wonder if those guys at the bridge came from here..." He absently asked out loud.

He doubted it; these guys sounded like serious convicts from what Randall had heard. He didn't think a small scale looking prison like this would house these kind of ultra-violent criminals. Then again, Randall thought, this is Canada. So who knows?

Glenda quickly pulled a left, down a small, residential street. No rotters in the street, but a few stood off to the side, appearing as if they had been hibernating until just a few moments ago. When the convoy came into their field of view, they started to react and move towards them, but were left behind before they could even get into the street. At the end of the small street, they came to a larger cross street, the entire block before them seemed to be taken up by some sort of large, reddish-colored, warehouse-esque building. Randall couldn't really figure out what it had been used for and the lack of any identifying signs made it even more difficult to tell. But he supposed it didn't really matter.

"The other freeway exit comes out right on the other side of this building." Candice explained.

Glenda immediately pulled into the first parking lot they hit. A small sign above the only entrance here read "We Are Fitness Training Facility". That was one mystery solved. A few rotters lingered by said entrance, and as Glenda stopped the truck in the middle of the lot, their attention was unsurprisingly drawn towards them. At the same time, the rotters from the previous street started to lumber into the parking lot as well.

"No gunfire if it can be helped." Randall explained as everyone started piling back out to deal with the rotters. "Not yet, at least."

"I'm here. I see them." The radio came to life with Emmett's voice.

"Good job." Randall was swift to respond. "What do we have?"
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DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
Emmett held his binoculars and one hand and the radio in another. When a 'beep' indicated Randall was done talking, he pressed the button again himself.

"One on the roof," he reported into the transceiver.

He stared at the rough-looking man who he had spotted on the roof, he had binoculars of his own. Emmett looked around some more, spotting a couple more shaved heads fading in and out of view in the toll booths where they likely sprang their trap.

"At least two more in the booths."

He let go of the button, and kept his eyes peeled.
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Strompy
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"No problem." Brandon confirmed as he strode out to meet the closest rotter with his knife.

He delivered a sharp kick to its knee that sent it toppling over face first. He brought his boot down hard on its head twice and heard an audible snap, either its head or its neck it didn't matter as it didn't get back up. He unslung his rifle and grabbed it by the barrel and swung it like a baseball bat at another oncoming rotter. It fell over sideways with the impact but wasn't dead. Brandon stood over it and delivered another strike, almost like a golf swing, stilling it.

"Let's find something to blow up. It's got to make a lot of fire and smoke. People and rotters need to be able to see it from a long way away." he said, advancing on a third rotter.

He stuck his knife in the petite rotter's head, and moved on without a second thought. It was a strange rush to be so focused again. Every rotter was another problem to deal with, it made him feel purposeful and it kept his mind off of Willow for the moment, so he could function. It was the same rush he got during that fight he and Eli had gotten themselves in the day before. There was clarity in the immediateness of the problem before them, he had been entirely in that moment, just like now.
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Is that so?
No sooner had the SUV come to a stop than had Glenda thrown the front door open, slamming into a rotter that had gotten too close. She swiftly killed it by thrusting her knife into through the side of its skull while it was unable to get back up.

There were still four more coming from the street behind them and three shambling from the entrance to the gym. Seven total; assuming that no others were inside. Which was quite the assumption.

"The cars!" Maxwell pointed to the cars.

At first, Glenda thought there was a threat over there and quickly prepared herself to meet it. Then she realized that he was talking to Brandon. The cars, presumably filled with gasoline, lined up alongside the road, right next to some low hanging trees and overgrown weeds. If nothing else, it would make a lot of smoke. And potentially start a small scale city fire.

**********

Back inside the SUV, Kelsey watched as Randall held down the call button on the radio: "If we lured them out now, would we have a pathway to bring the cars through?"
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
Eli’s feet hit the pavement and he made a bee-line to the closest rotter, drawing his ka-bar as he did. He stabbed it through the eye efficiently, then pushed its body and pulled the knife out simultaneously.

When the body hit the ground, Eli turned to the cars Maxwell had referred to.

“Hold on,” he said to the group, as he turned back to the cab of the trailer. “This might help.”

He rifled through his pack and retrieved the spanner he had taken from the shed by the cabin, right before he and Julie had their liaison. With that in hand, he made another bee-line, this time for the cars. He kneeled and then rolled over, then slid under the first of the cars like he was a mechanic. He regretted that he was going to get his new shirt dirty, but also knew it was an inevitably.

He found the drain plug on the fuel tank quickly. He unscrewed it, then rolled away as gasoline started to leak out.

As the others continued fighting the rotters around him, he rinsed and repeated – doing the same thing for the other two cars. He narrowly avoided getting the gasoline on his clothes as he finally emerged, just as a pool of the dark liquid started seeping out.

He slid the spanner into one of his jean pockets, and then retrieved his grenade from the other.

“Whenever you guys are ready!” he yelled, steadily backing away from the cars.

* * *

Emmett waited about thirty seconds before responding. With his eyes, he traced a path through the station as far as he could. When he was done, he pressed the button on the transceiver once again.

“You would,” he said.
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Strompy
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More posts, more Busey.
Brandon took the ammo bag from the SUV in one hand, and the jerry can in the other. He made his way towards the cars and dropped the bag in the street and began dowsing it in gas, before trailing more gas towards the cars. As soon as they went up, the ammo would start cooking. They'd need to make some distance fast as soon as Eli pulled that pin.
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We would.

Those words rang in Randall's ears like a blessing. Those guys in Old Fort Erie had been smart enough to obstruct the pathway through with these cars; but these guys were either very confident in their ability or very stupid. It didn't really matter which, if Emmett said that they had a clear pathway, then they should go for it.

Randall hovered his finger over the button. He hesitated. Emmett had been trying to kill Eli just a day ago. He had kidnapped Kelsey and Julie. Just now, he had almost accepted a call to safety from this man on his word alone. Emmett may have disliked murder, but he wouldn't be the one murdering them if his information was faulty. Not directly, anyway. Would that matter to Emmett though? Would he trust that Emmett was truly on their side? If Emmett was lying, then people would die. Was he willing to take that chance?

"MAXWELL!" Randall leaned out of the door and bellowed the professor's name at the top of his lungs.. "The shotgun Brandon gave you. I want you to use it."

"Wh-what?" Maxwell stammered.

"Do it."

"Okay, okay!"

Maxwell, who was holding the shotgun already, nodded his acceptance of the order. He aimed for the four zombies coming from behind them.

BOOM!

Click-click.

BOOM!

Click-click.

BOOM!

Click-click.

BOOM!

Click-click.

The resounding boom of gunfire echoed through the otherwise silent city like thunder before a lightning storm. Maxwell looked a little sluggish with the shotgun, but with the short range and buckshot pellets, it would have been hard for even Maxwell to miss. The rotters went down, not necessarily dead, but they weren't going to get back up either.

Nearby, Glenda got the picture of what was going on. In a flash, her recently acquired Taurus was in her hand. She aimed the heavy 5-shot revolver towards the nearest rotter.

BLAM!

BLAM!

BLAM!

In three loud shots, the three of them went down. The parking lot was now relatively clear, but the moans coming from inside the gym signaled an influx of rotters coming at them pretty quickly.

"Everyone in!" Glenda ordered.

On that order, everyone started to pile into their respective vehicles. Glenda revved up the engine and spun the SUV around in a sharp turn with Eli in the van doing the same.

"Let it fly, Eli." Randall knew that Eli couldn't hear him.

But he didn't need to.

The grenade flew out of the van's window as both cars went speeding out of the parking lot and down the path they had come from only moments ago.

**********

BOOM!

Garret was caught completely off guard; first there had been gunfire and then the shattering kaboom of an explosion! And to make matters worse, it was close. Very close. Maybe Cory actually had heard a motorcycle. What the fuck was going on?

"Cory!" Garret screamed into his radio. "Did you hear that!?"

"Of course I heard that, you moron! It's too early for Jerome to be back, some fuckheads are shooting up our city!"

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

"The fuck is going on over there!?"

"Do you think it could be that nigger from earlier?" Garret furled his brow.

"The only thing we left that guy with was his dick and his chink girlfriend." A third voice piped up. It was Ronald, one of the guys down in the toll booth. "Neither of those things was big enough to make a sound like that."

"I'm taking a car down there. Where is it, Garret?"

No sooner had Cory asked than did a plume of black smoke start billowing into the air over the trees. He couldn't see where the smoke was coming from precisely, but he knew what was in that direction.

"I see... smoke! Looks like it's coming from that weird building by the Comfort Inn!"

"Keep your eyes on it from up there, Garret. Ronald, you stay at the toll booth, shoot anyone that you see. Keep in radio contact. Everyone else, asses to ground level now."
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