(Book 3) Left 4 Dead 3: Dry County

2.3

A distant, wide gap stood between the survivors and the strange man.

"We doin' better 'til you came," Dwain hollered.

In the meantime, Brenan and Daeshim refuged behind Dwain and Jess like children towards their dad and mom, intimidated by their crooked visitor. They felt cold snakes slither down their backbones. And a sense of confinement weighed their souls down. This isn't how they wanted to see normal people again.

The man spoke, brandishing his sunglasses. "I reckon' you all ain't from the town, and..." He glanced at his companions behind him, "We would like to give you a warm welcome," said him, smirks painted on his face. "Where you guys from?"

"None of your fuckin' business," the nun snarled. She was looming with a stiff, but intimidating stance. "You're disturbing us," her voice was cold and sharp, like an Arctic icicle. In the heart of the hot desert, she was a cold, unmelting glacier, her fiery eyes were the bonfire in the middle of it.

"Well, I'm sorry to be a bother, sister but..." he paused and pointed in their direction. "Those diesel you're tryna' snatch right there? Unfortunately, they're ours."

A feeble sneer marked Jess' lips. "What a shame," she spat. And then, the edge of her eyes honed like a hawk's beak. "Why don't you cut off your junk and go fuck yourself?"

"That's yo' definition of 'talking'?" Dwain cut in.

The tides had changed when Jess served those words. Those words stirred up a little dust storm, their fabrics flapped in the wind like flags of war. It was winter, but the air around them was filled with heat. The heat that made the horizon look like a rippling lake, distorting the shapes and colors of the landscape. The sun bore witness to their standoff, their shadows, a testament of the assertions they firmly stood on.

The man with steady, squinty eyes darting her, lifted his chin and gritted his teeth. "You suck your father's dick with that mouth, nun?"

"Joke's on you... I killed my father."

"Ooooh, nice o-wait, you did?" Brenan chimed in.

"Doc, not the time," Dwain rebuked.

The stranger stretched his head down and spat on the ground. He brought his deadly stares back at the sandy nun. "Well, I ain't a lame sauce like yer father."

"That's because you're already expired."

"You got a big mouth for a God's servant,"

"It's how God made me,"

"Don't take the Lord's name in vain, sister."

"I don't take the Lord's name in vain. I kick asses for Him."

"Well, in that case, unless you're keen to witness God's Wrath through me, why don't we cut to the chase and let our guns do the talkin'."

The man flipped his leather coat, revealing a Ruger .357 revolver concealed in a brown, leather holster, cross-draw.

The nun maintained her sharp glares at their rogue guest. But she caught the weapon in the corner of her eyes. It didn't scare her. But now that it's out, she had to be more alert. She carefully watched the man's movements, and analyzed him. The guy's got a lot of mouth, but it doesn't mean he's already not as wicked as her.

"What, you ran out of words, nun?" The man taunted.

"That guy's got a motherfuckin' magnum," Dwain whispered.

"You shouldn't be afraid don't ya'?" The stranger chuckled and rubbed his beard. "Didn't the scripture say, 'He will command His angels concerning you, to guard you,'?" he added.

Jess replied. "'You shall not put the Lord your God to test.'"

"Well then," the man uttered and sniffed like a junkie. "I guess I should just put you to a test instead," he added and put on a stance.

"Let's see how fast you are, sister," he dared as he jerked his chin.

"You need a count?"

"Only cowards coun-"

Jess drew her pistol, fast. Two shots to the chest. He plunged into the ground. Then, in a blink, her gun swung to the right. Lead that spewed from the barrel flew towards the gang. Two of them caught a bullet.

The rest of the bandits scrambled and duck into cover, the others shot back. Soon after, pops and whizzes filled the air, gunshots thundered across the stead.

Dwain panicked and drew his pistol too. He aimed to the left and fired. Bullets chased the rascals, but they were quick to hide. However, he managed to down one on his flank.

Brenan and Daeshim had beaten a hasty retreat. Their hearts raced, and lungs contracted as they hid behind the humvee. They winced as bullets pelted the vehicle. They had feared it would come to this.

All hell broke loose, the two ran out of bullets. Dwain uttered a plea to retreat to Jess and they took cover in the humvee. That gave all the bikers the opportunity to return fire.

"You're a bad negotiator!" He yelled at Jess while reloading as they sat behind the humvee.

"I never said I was going to negotiate," Jess rebutted as she reloaded her pistol.

"Y'know, I was fine with zombies, Spiderman zombies, Edward Scissorman zombies, and motherfuckin' hulk zombies. But to add a fuckin' biker gang to them assholes tryna' kill us?" Dwain grumbled as he switched to his rifle and turned off its safety. "That's just too much."

"Talk less, shoot more," Jess suggested as she pulled out her second pistol.

The athletic man then crept towards the humvee's hood and threw shots at the enemies. Whereas Jess leaned by the trunk, and then unleashed another plum hurricane.

But from there on, she caught incoming projectiles soaring in the air. Her eyes locked at them, but there was no time. Luckily, she was able to figure out what they were. Acid bombs, coming at her like asteroids.

The nun drew her gun up then fired, and the bottles broke into pieces mid-air. But now, the pairs of bottles had turned into a rain of shards and acid.

She immediately withdrew and rolled over to the side, away from the vehicle. And some of the acid landed on the humvee's trunk where she was, and some on the asphalt, sizzling like little firecrackers.

Jess landed on her knees, one bent, one against the ground. But then a biker popped up to her left. She drew her pistols and fired. One down. A couple popped up to the right. She threw herself to the ground and fired. Another two down. She quickly got up and pressed on to the battle.

Dwain's vision protruded through his rifle's scope. Each target that is caught on his crosshairs fell down with a hole in them. But then, he gawked back in the direction where the slick stranger fell down. He noticed he wasn't there anymore, no blood, not any trace of him was left.

"Where the hell did that guy go?"

But then, relentless bullets sprang upon him as they gnawed at the humvee. He was then compelled to take cover, and couldn't find a perfect time to resurface and shoot back. While hiding, he caught Brenan peering through the vehicle's windows. He was going to tell him to get down, but then his eyes were drawn by the machine gun up top. And then it hit him.

"Doc, you think you can man the machine gun?" Dwain asked.

Brenan's face glimmered with enthusiasm and excitement as he heard him. "I thought you'd never ask!"

"Oh, I'd never really ask you if Jess wasn't occupied."

"Well, too bad for her, I'm goin'."

"Alright then, we'll cover you. Don't fire continuously; the gun'll cook off!"

"Gotcha."

"Okay. Asian? You stay down."