Their initial arrival had attracted attention, which had grown from a few dazed, exhausted, early-morning risers upon the first drop off, to an increasingly agitated mob of thirty by the time he had returned with the third carload of bicycles and family. Like zombies, the entire group shifted its collective attention to the working vehicle, sensing salvation and opportunity. Alex weighed their options and decided for a hasty departure. He activated his handheld radio.
“Charlie, get everyone up and moving while they’re distracted. Next rally point is the Maine Mall offramp. We’ll keep moving the Jeep until you guys are clear of the parking lot.”
“Roger that. Hey, I don’t have a bike,” replied Charlie.
“Run alongside the bicycles, and make sure they get out of the parking lot. I’ll pick you up at the intersection.”
“Copy. Moving out.”
Alex dropped into the front passenger seat and shut the door. “Pull back from the crowd and reposition near the conference center entrance. That should give Charlie enough time to get them out of here,” he said to Ed.
“Make sure the doors are locked back there. Yours too, Ed.”
The crowd had nearly reached them by the time Ed shifted into reverse and put some distance between the Jeep and the mob. The crowd continued to press forward, yelling a simultaneous string of incoherent and indistinguishable demands at his open window. In the growing daylight, he could see a few rifle barrels in the crowd, most of them pointing upward—for now. He had no intention of letting this group near the Jeep.
“Samantha, put your packs against the doors and have everyone squeeze into the middle. Stay low,” he said, hoping to put a little more than thin metal jeep framing between Ed’s family and a bullet.
While Samantha rearranged the back seating area, putting two packs against the door next to Daniel, Alex peered past the crowd.
We aren’t moving fast enough.
“Charlie, Kate—get them up and moving. We’re running out of time here,” he said into the handheld radio, getting no response from either.
“Alex, this is stupid. We need to get the hell out of here,” said Ed.
“They’re all up on their bikes. Twenty seconds. Move back further, but don’t get us cornered,” said Alex.
“We don’t have a ton of parking lot left. If they grab one of the bikes off the Jeep, our plan is screwed,” said Ed, driving them at an angle to the hotel and conference center.
“Slow us down.”
“Slow us down? Fuck that. We’re out of here. Charlie and Kate have plenty of room to get them out of the parking lot.” Ed stepped on the gas and propelled the Jeep toward one of the exits for Route 1.
“Stay down back there!” said Alex, hoping that the mob’s rifles stayed silent.
He was relieved to be moving away from the mob, which was now running in a futile attempt to catch up with the Jeep. Ed drove them to the southernmost exit, which drew the crowd further away from the other group. By the time they turned north on Route 1, Kate and the other cyclists had reached the gas station and accelerated. Charlie trailed them by fifty feet. Kate’s group would be long gone before elements of the mob arrived, but he wasn’t so sure about Charlie.
As soon as Ed floored the Jeep, pointing it toward Route 1, the crowd chasing them split apart. While the majority of the group continued in a straight, zombielike path toward the vehicle, a smaller group sprinted toward Charlie. Alex did the math and didn’t like the outcome. As their Jeep turned onto Route 1, he began to lose sight of the pack behind loosely spaced rows of thick, flowering bushes along the sidewalk between the road and parking lot. Ed jammed on the accelerator, speeding them toward the intersection. Alex glanced through the windshield and saw Kate’s group cross Route 1 headed west onto the Maine Turnpike Approach Road.
“This is guaranteed to get shitty,” said Alex.
“I’m not risking the Jeep, Alex—or my family,” said Ed.
“If Charlie starts shooting—you’ll lose the jeep. The police will be all over us before we get to the tollbooth. We have to get him out of there before he panics.”
“I’ll wait in the intersection, but that’s it,” he said, as the Jeep rapidly approached that terminal point.
“Slow down for a second.”
“Are you crazy?” Ed bellowed.
“Ed, get us out of here!” screamed Samantha.
“Stop the Jeep, and wait for me at the intersection. Do it now!” ordered Alex.
The Jeep jerked to a stop, giving Alex enough time to jump down onto the street before it lurched forward again. He hit the street in a dead sprint, slicing between two thick sections of beach roses and emerging on a collision course with the man catching up to Charlie. Alex’s sudden appearance caused Charlie to lower his rifle, which averted the first of many disasters ripening at the moment. With several hotels in the immediate area, he could almost guarantee a nearby police presence.
He emphatically waved his hands at Charlie, silently imploring him to keep running. As he barreled closer, the first runner caught movement in his peripheral vision and turned his head.
Too late.
He tried to bring the SKS rifle around while decelerating out of a full-speed run, but Alex stopped the man’s rifle with his left hand and landed his right elbow into the man’s neck. Momentum did the rest.
The controlled collision flattened the attacker, leaving him gasping for air on the gritty pavement. Alex ripped the SKS rifle out of his grip, stumbling to the ground. Loose bits of blacktop dug agonizingly deep into his knee. He scrambled to his feet and reassessed the situation. Not much had improved.
“Keep going!” he screamed at Charlie, who had slowed down again.
The next threat, a mid-twenties, stick-thin guy wearing jeans and a salt-stained black T-shirt, arrived without a plan. Alex swung the SKS by the barrel, smashing the wooden butt stock against the right side of his head. Skinny tumbled to Alex’s left, hitting the ground hard. His beefy replacement, half muscle and half fat judging by his stretched blue polo shirt, didn’t hesitate to close the gap. Alex barely found the time to shift his grip on the rifle and jam the butt stock into the man’s oncoming face. Surprisingly, Beefy managed to deflect some of the rifle’s momentum, taking a glancing blow to the head. He collapsed to his knees, out of the fight.
His third threat, a longhaired guy wearing fatigue pants and a white tank top, widened his rapid approach.
Time to gain some ground.
Alex turned and sprinted for the intersection, unfolding the SKS’s spike bayonet as he ran. He’d taken several strides when something solid struck the back of his head. The dull thud surprised him more than it stunned him, and he kept running. When he heard a metallic object strike the pavement, he risked a look back. A large hunting knife clattered to a stop on the black and gray pavement several feet behind him.
Wild Man raced toward him at full speed. Even if he could beat the guy to the intersection, which was doubtful, Wild Man would be on the Jeep before they could mount up and leave. Alex saw no other option. He reversed direction and squatted low, thrusting the business end of the rifle up through his outstretched hands. The spike bayonet penetrated the man’s upper abdomen, just below the xiphoid process, disappearing deep into his chest cavity. The collision’s momentum buried the metal barrel deep into the gap opened by the bayonet. Warm blood sprayed onto Alex’s arms.
He released the rifle and ran, drawing his pistol to discourage anyone else. He hated to leave the rifle, but trying to remove it from the man’s chest could take considerable time and effort. They’d be long gone before anyone could put it into action against them. He reached the Jeep a few steps behind Charlie, pushing him through the open passenger door and holstering his pistol.