Zombie survivor

[95] Ambush

The convoy was parked just beyond the bridge, engines idling as Garrett leaned against the side of the lead truck. His cigarette hung loosely from his lips as he watched Brad's group approach. They looked haggard but triumphant, their backpacks stuffed with loot. Brad carried himself with his usual cocky swagger, his shotgun slung over his shoulder, while Jordan and Tyler bickered in hushed tones behind him.

"We're back," Brad announced, tossing his bag onto the ground with a satisfying thunk. "And we've got the goods."

Garrett gave a faint smirk, nodding in approval. "Good. At least one of you knows how to do the job."

Before Brad could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps drew their attention to the opposite side of the bridge. Jean's team emerged from the ruins of East Kelowna, flanked by nearly two dozen survivors. The sight of the ragtag group, thin and tired but alive, caught everyone off guard.

"What the fuck is this?" Garrett muttered, his eyes narrowing as he straightened up.

Jean stepped forward, his face serious. "We found survivors. They need help, and East Kelowna needs people to rebuild."

"Survivors?" Brad asked, raising an eyebrow. "You were supposed to get loot, not play rescue squad."

"We got what we could," Chloe snapped, dropping her pack onto the ground. "It's not like the store was overflowing with supplies."

Garrett crossed his arms, his gaze shifting between Jean and the survivors. "Look, kid, I get it. But my trucks are for loot, not people. They can follow us on foot if they want, but they're not riding with us."

Jean bristled. "Are you serious? Some of them are kids—"

"I don't give a shit," Garrett interrupted, his tone cold. "They can walk, or they can stay. My convoy, my rules."

The survivors murmured nervously, their hope flickering like a candle in the wind. Jean opened his mouth to argue further when the roar of an approaching engine cut him off.

From the opposite side of the bridge, a massive customized container truck rumbled into view. Its cab was covered in crude metal plating, with spikes welded onto the bumper and blood-red streaks painted across the sides. The truck screeched to a halt, blocking the convoy's access to the bridge. Moments later, a group of raiders poured out of the container, their weapons gleaming in the sunlight.

The leader of the raiders dismounted from a black motorcycle, his boots crunching against the pavement. He was tall and lean, clad in leather armor reinforced with scrap metal. A jagged scar ran down the left side of his face, and his cold, calculating eyes swept over the group like a predator sizing up its prey.

"Well, well," the raider leader drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. "What do we have here? A little scavenger party with a side of strays?"

Garrett stepped forward, his expression hard. "What do you want?"

The raider leader grinned, his teeth yellowed and uneven. "Simple. Leave the loot and those survivors behind, and we'll let you go."

Jean's heart sank as the survivors behind him huddled closer together, their fear palpable. Akira moved to his side, her knives glinting in the sunlight as she clenched them tightly.

"We're not leaving the loot," Garrett said, his voice firm. "But you can have the survivors. They're not my problem."

"Garrett!" Jean snapped, disbelief and anger lacing his voice. "You can't just—"

The raider leader raised a hand, silencing them both. "I don't give a shit about your little power struggle," he said, his grin widening. "Leave the loot and the survivors. Final offer."

"Listen," Garrett said, his tone taking on a hint of diplomacy. "You take the survivors, fine. But we're keeping the loot. We need it."

Jean couldn't take it anymore. He stepped forward, his hands balled into fists. "They're not taking anyone—"

The sharp crack of a gunshot split the air, and Jean's words were cut off as a bullet grazed his ear. The pain was immediate and searing, and he stumbled back, clutching at his head as blood trickled down the side of his face.

"Jean!" Akira screamed, her voice filled with panic and fury. Without hesitation, she hurled one of her kitchen knives at the raider leader, the blade spinning through the air like a deadly boomerang.

The leader barely dodged, the knife slicing a lock of hair from his head before embedding itself in the side of the container truck. His smirk vanished, replaced by a snarl of rage. "Kill them all!" he barked, raising his rifle.

All hell broke loose.

Garrett was the first to fire, his shotgun booming as he took down the nearest raider. Brad followed suit, pumping his shotgun and sending a raider flying backward. Jordan and Tyler ducked behind the truck, their pistols popping off shots that sent the raiders scrambling for cover.

Akira didn't wait for an order. She sprinted forward, her remaining knife in hand, and slashed at a raider who got too close. The man screamed as the blade tore through his arm, and he fell to the ground clutching the wound.

"Stay back!" Chloe yelled, firing her shotgun at a raider charging toward her. The blast hit the man square in the chest, sending him sprawling onto the pavement.

Jean, still dazed from the grazing shot, forced himself to his feet. His head was pounding, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins kept him moving. He grabbed his pistol and fired at a raider aiming for Akira, the bullet catching the man in the leg.

Evan crouched near the back of the group, his hands shaking as he fumbled with his revolver. "I can't—shit, I can't—"

"Just aim and shoot!" Blake shouted, firing his pistol at a raider who was taking cover behind a car. "Don't think, just do it!"

Evan took a deep breath, his hands trembling as he raised his revolver. He squeezed the trigger, and the gun roared in his hand. The bullet struck a raider in the shoulder, sending him staggering backward.

"Holy shit," Evan muttered, his voice shaky. "I hit him."

"Good job, now keep going!" Blake yelled, reloading his pistol.

The survivors, though unarmed, fought to defend themselves. Some threw rocks and debris, while others used makeshift weapons like pipes and broken planks. They stuck together, forming a defensive line behind the scavengers.

The raider leader, now fully enraged, barked orders at his crew. "Take them down! Leave nothing standing!"

Jean saw him taking aim again and yelled, "Cover me!" before sprinting toward the side of the truck. Akira moved with him, her knife flashing as she fended off another raider who got too close.

The firefight raged on, the deafening sound of gunfire filling the air. Blood stained the pavement, and the acrid smell of gunpowder mixed with the metallic tang of fear. Both sides were locked in a brutal battle, and it was clear that neither was willing to back down.

Jean ducked behind the truck, his heart pounding as he tried to catch his breath. "This isn't gonna end well," he muttered to himself.

But he wasn't giving up—not now, not ever.

Q: What is your favorite weapon?