Sand, Lead, and Black Exhaust
“Suzie, this car is armored with hardened steel plate and two different layers of kevlar. On all sides. The shutters are down on all the windows except for the windshield, which is bulletproof glass. I’ve seen this car take an RPG. Admittedly, it was from behind, but I don’t think this fuckwad with the nine is going to somehow magically teleport himself to a position where he can shoot at us from in front. Especially now that we’ve hit our cruising speed of ninety miles per hour."
“David. I know you’re an expert in these kinds of things, but I’m an expert in guns, and I’m telling you that this is making me nervous.”
A brief pause, overlaid with rumbling sound of tires on cracked concrete.
“Alright, I’m gonna do something about it.
“David. I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“No, I’m gonna do something about it. You seem nervous, so here we go.”
“David. Stop it.”
“This is your captain speaking. Please make sure your tray tables are in an upright and locked position. We might be hitting some turbulence soon, so I’m going to turn on the Fasten Seatbelts sign.” I flicked on my lighter and waved it in her face, then used it to light my cigar. “Remember, your seat can be used as a flotation device. If we should crash, put your head between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye.”
I ran the car off the highway, through the old hulks that dotted its’ edges, onto the blasted desert that surrounded it on all sides and pulled it into a turn. This brought into view the previously mentioned fuckwad, still blasting away with his nine millimeter pistol. He had beard out to here, naked to the waist, below which was nothing more than a pair of boxer shorts. He was blasting away with the nine like a madman, snap, snap, snap, like Chinese New Year. Missing every time.
His gun ran out before we got to him, hauling ass, with Suzie saying calmly in the background “David, this is completely unnecessary. Stop it. Stop it! STOP IT!” This last was, of course, before we slammed into the hobo and sent him rolling over our hood. Turns out I had missed a little detail: the overpass the hobo was living under, probably to hide from the sun during the day, was just a little too close for me to miss, and at the speed I was going, it wasn’t going to be pretty. Fortunately, my tried-and-tested instincts kicked in. I slammed the wheel over to the left and ramped off the bent and torn guardrail. We ended up driving up the wall at a sideways angle. Soon, we were simply driving on air at a sideways angle.
The car slammed onto the ground on two wheels. It stayed, motionless, while I worked on thinking helium thoughts. “To hell with this,” Suzie said, and slammed her small body against the passenger door. The car lost its’ equilibrium and fell back down to earth on all four wheels, like the Good Lord intended. She opened the door, stepped out, and walked up to the hobo, writhing on the ground. Both his legs were broken, at least. The point is, he wasn’t going to be shooting at us anymore.
And after what Suzie did to him with the knife she keeps on her ankle, he wasn’t going to be doing much of anything anymore.
She climbed back into the car. There was no blood on her hands. She was clean, that way. “Next time, you let me deal with it.”
* * *
This all started about ten days back. I was nervous. I’m always nervous when my trunk is popped in the very midst of Rattler City, the skeeziest junk post from here to Hell. She, of course, looked entirely unconcerned. I had heard about her, Suzie, a hired killer. People recognized her by her face, her walk, her clean brown hair, her unripped clothes. Everyone was making a big wide circle around her. She was loading her “cargo” into the back of the car.
Her “cargo” consisted entirely of bullets.
“How long is this going to take?” I yelled from the driver’s seat over my shoulder. The car was still on; you never know when you’re going to need to get away fast
“As long as it takes.”
“That means nothing. That literally means nothing.”
She just stared at me while the men she’d hired kept loading box after box into the car.
“Where are we going, anyway?”
“I thought you didn’t ask questions.”
“I don’t.” A pause. “So, where are we going?”
Suddenly, the passenger door opened and she got in and slammed it shut again. “You listen to me, asshole. I hired you to perform a service. You are to drive me to my destination. I heard good things about you. You have a good reputation. You get people where they need to go. I know a lot of people, and I talk to a lot of people. Don’t fuck up that reputation. And do not ask questions. Got it?”
I scratched my nose.
“Fair enough.”
* * *
The hobo incident was only a day old when we got ambushed on the road. It was night, darkness. I had the lights on. Halogen. I’m no electrician, but I’d say they’re about a bajillion watts.
“Alright, get your gun out.”
“Why?”
“Did you not see it?”
“See what?”
“Well, there was something shiny in that car back there. All the mirrors and chrome for the last forty miles were taken to build that heat-reflecting shelter we passed a little while ago. I figure it was a little hand mirror that a scout or a finder was using to see if there was any vehicles approaching while hiding in the back of the car. He probably had a bike stashed in the bushes on the side of the road. And we passed two columns of smoke recently. Roving bands tend to set shit on fire to keep themselves warm at night, so that means that they’ve been travelling for two days. The distance between them was about twenty miles, which means they’re probably walking. The finder will’ve sent some kind of signal up the road, maybe a flare, or maybe a radio wave. They usually use an attractive woman in trouble as bait. If I’m right, we should be passing her right about...now.”
She did her best to look distraught. I waved.
“Shouldn’t we do something? Turn around? Curve around them?”
“We can’t curve around them to the north, there’s a cliff over there. And to the south is Dieselholics territory. We don’t go there unless we want to get dead. As for turning around, I was hired to do a job, and I plan on doing it.”
“Alright, what should we-“
“Duck.”
She did, along with me. Automatic gunfire ripped through the cab of my car, through the two windows I had opened for a cross breeze. I sat back up and whooped, bringing the car around into a hard turn. I probably laid some rubber, but whatever. I bought my tires from a guy who shot one in front of me, point blank, just to show that he wasn’t fucking around.
She had two automatics in her hands when she came back up. I don’t know where she hides them. I only know about the knife cause I saw her cut up a mango once.
She started shooting out the passenger window, measured shots, not blazing away like that hobo. She fired six shots while they were reloading, two out my window. She didn’t shoot through my head, which I took as a kindness. I turned the wheel all the way around again, and began another pass.
“They’ll have reloaded by this time, so be-“
“No they haven’t.”
We drove through an eerily silent ambush zone. I just drove.
“Should we be worried about that woman?”
“No, she’ll be fine. She’ll have all the supplies this whole little group needed, which should be enough to get her back to that shelter.”
“But if they had enough supplies, why would they-“
“She’ll be fine.”
We drove on in silence.
* * *
“Are you sure about this?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“This is Dieselholics territory. You’ve heard of them, right?”
“Yes, I’ve heard of them.”
“Are you sure? I’m not talking about some kind of biker gang. The Dieselholics are organized. They’re almost a mobile army.”
“I know.”
“Do you? Remember that RPG I mentioned?”
“My destination is on the other side. If you don’t want to take the job, I can pay you for the distance you brought me, and-“
“No. No, I have a reputation to uphold. When I take a job, I finish it.” And I sure as hell don’t let pretty girls walk across Dieselholics territory.
“Alright. Keep driving.”
I kept driving.
* * *
In front of me was nothing. No cars blocking the road, no out-of-date signs. Nothing.
After driving every day of your life on highways sometimes completely overrun with broken down, useless cars and other old crap, it was pretty fucking eerie to see nothing of any kind.
The attack came without warning, with no buildup. That was true ‘Holic style. They never wasted time warning the enemy.
It started with a whining sound, starting off low and quickly growing higher and higher and louder and louder until it was almost unbearable. I handed her a pair of earmuffs and she put them on while I put on mine.
I shouted over the noise. “They won’t cancel all the sound, but they’ll dampen it.” She nodded.
As soon as the sound was loud enough that I couldn’t even hear my own car over it, I felt in the seat and the steering wheel several taps. I shouted at her again. I was sure she couldn’t hear it, but maybe she could read lips. Who the hell knows, we all have hidden talents. “It’s small arms fire! Don’t worry, we’re safe, just like the fuckwad with the-“
CRACK.
Suddenly, my field of vision was somewhat more spider-webby than I usually like it, and there was a beam of sunlight shining through the cargo area. They had shot through the armor, and it was only luck that had kept it from shooting through my head, or Suzie’s. As it was, it had only damaged the windshield.
“Military grade hardware! They’ve got the good stuff!” She wasn’t even looking at me. She was messing around with something in her lap, probably a gun or something.
Suddenly, I felt the car lurch, then the sound of some crawling on the roof.
“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?” I hadn’t heard anyone drive up next to me. Probably because of the ear-splitting noise, cutting through even my grandma’s old earmuffs.
She tossed something out the window in what seemed to be a careless fashion, then started climbing up onto the roof. I wasn’t going to say anything.
I felt several thumps, the echoes of struggle. Suddenly, something dark was in front of me. I ran over it, having no time to turn. I felt crunching.
Suzie flipped down onto the hood of the car, facing me. She mouthed “TURN. LEFT.” while pointing left with her hand, and took cover behind the body of the car, covering her face with her arm. I turned left, and almost immediately felt a shockwave, something huge had just exploded behind me. The body of the car protected me from any damage, but the shockwave itself blasted through me, causing my whole body to cringe with pain and then ache. I can only imagine what it was like for her.
I looked in rearview mirror. The car that had been close on my right side had just exploded, leaving behind a rolling, burning husk. I looked out the driver-side window.
There were at least two dozen cars following us, through the desert.
Where had they come from? I hadn’t seen any fucking garages along the completely empty highway. Maybe they had bunkers underground, holding cars with teams, ready for just such an occasion.
She slid back into the car through the passenger-side window, directly into the cargo area. She tore open some crates and started piecing something together. I kept driving perpendicular to the rest of the cars, cause I wanted to keep them in sight, even though it would be quicker this way for them to catch us. If I didn’t have audio, I would have to rely on visual.
I was looking out the open window when suddenly I saw a tube emerge from my peripheral vision and felt a presence close by. Her mouth was very close to my ear, so I managed to hear her. “This is going to be very bright. Close your eyes for a second.” She smelled like lavender.
I closed my eyes.
Suddenly, the smell of lavender was overcome by the scent of fireworks, explosions, gunpowder. My face felt very hot, and when I opened my eyes a second later, I wished I hadn’t. The end of the rocket was very bright.
I lost sight of it in the blaze of light that was the desert, the suddenly I saw a semi-truck fly apart into its’ component pieces.
“I guess we have the good stuff too,” I said to myself.
Suddenly, I became aware, over the rumbling, of several more sharp pops, more small arms fire. They were probably trying to find a weak point, and right now, I was looking out of one. I quickly went to roll up the shutters on the driver-side window.
CRACK.
CRACK.
CRACK.
Shit. It was probably a sniper, using a high-caliber rifle, feeling out the car.
CRACK.
CRACKpshhhhhhrumblerumblerumble.
I lost control for a couple of seconds, the car pulling to the left strongly. I wrestled the car back into hand, but it had lost a lot of speed and maneuverability. I guess the guy who sold me those tires was full of shit.
“We’re not going to be able to outrun them! There are too many of them, and I think we just lost a tire!”
She was still close to me, leaning over my shoulder. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to scare them away.”
She kissed me on the cheek.
And grabbed two tommy guns, heavy with extra ammo belts, and pulled herself into a sitting position on the bottom of the window on the passenger side, facing them. Her legs and lower torso were still entirely protected from harm by the car- well, except for the sniper. But I don’t think they wanted to waste sniper bullets on an unknown quantity.
Through the car, I could feel both of her guns, on full automatic, not stopping for anything. She was screaming. I heard it a whisper over the high pitched whine.
I lowered the driver-side shutters a half inch. I know, I’m an idiot. A curious idiot.
The cars kept coming. All of them had huge holes in them, seven had stopped because their tires had blown out. Two or three had stopped with intact tires, blood spattered on the inside.
Abruptly and in unison, all the cars slowed down, then stopped. We had become too much trouble.
She got back inside, sat down strangely. The tommy guns were still in her hands, smoking. She tossed them into the back with her right arm. Her left she was holding to her chest, grimacing.
“What’s-“
“It’s nothing. Keep driving.”
A pause.
“I have to change the tire.”
“You have a spare tire?”
“Secret compartment.”
“You have a secret compartment and you keep a spare tire in it?”
“Yeah. Thank you.”
Another pause.
“For saving my life.”
“I know.”
Another pause.
“Thank you.”
We looked at each other. I smiled. She smiled back, eventually. That was enough.
* * *
I was trying to jack the car up so I could change the tire. I would have asked for her help (my baby’s heavy), but I didn’t. She was clearly not doing too well. She wouldn’t say anything about it, or let me say anything about it. She just wanted to keep going.
When I got back in the car, she was shaking and sweating. I took a deep breath. “Suzie, we should stop. It’s not good to be travelling in your state.”
“David.” When she said it this time, she was not being harsh. “Please. We need to keep going. I need to get there. Please.”
I said nothing for a moment. Then I shifted the car into gear, and kept driving.
* * *
“Suzie, we’re here. Wherever here is.”
I gently shook her. We had driven all the way through the night, and now it was pitch dark and cold.
“Suzie. Come on, wake up.”
Another shake.
“Suzie.”
There was nothing outside my window. Even the highway had just ended. Nothing but the occasional patch of scrub until the darkness got too thick to see. What passed for the horizon at night in the desert.
Something in her jacket was buzzing occasionally. I reached in and pulled out some kind high-tech walkie-talkie, very bulky. There were voices coming out of it. It sounded like they were trying to signal us.
I pressed the green button on the side, cutting off the voices, and spoke into it. “Hello? Is anyone there? I’m Suzie’s driver.”
No response.
“It looks like she got shot in the arm on the way here. I don’t know how well she’s doing. I... I don’t know if she’s going to make it.”
No response.
“Is anyone there? She needs help.”
“Suz-” “Quiet.” Another voice cut off the first one with authority, and some reluctance.
“What? What was that? Where are you? We need help, please, help.”
Nothing but insistent silence from the device.
I pressed that green button over and over, but now there was nothing but static. Apparently they’d turned off the machine on their end. I shouted and pleaded into the device while Suzie slowly died next to me.
The sun rose, revealing nothing.
* * *
A small white cross in the desert, over a mound of freshly turned earth.
I was coming out on top with this job. I got the payment, and the rest of the ammo, and the guns. That was more than enough to compensate for the repairs to the car.
I was coming out on top with this job.
Wasn’t I?