Wickerman Cove

Part 12: Semi Death Experience

Steph screamed an expletive that woke Renard, who gave her a look of uncomprehending canine reproof. She had a split second impulse to just hit the accelerator that came and went –unless she could aim for one of their wheels it would total the hearse, and aiming would only work if she could cut off the road without ploughing into a tree, which was the likely outcome.

Instincts kicked in and, to her surprise, it turned out to be possible to get a semi-vintage hearse through a successful J-Turn. In the excitement, Penny woke and let out a sound, the first one Steph had heard her make. A jab of pain went through her eyes and, for a second, everything warped: the trees were twisted and rotten; Penny and Renard had horned skulls for heads.

Steph committed to accelerating and gaining back her lost speed. If Penny and Renard were monsters, she'd deal with it after the roadblock. The poppers on Penny's cute goth rucksack opened, spilling boxes and trinkets that rattled around the back like pinballs.

Ahead, the highbeams of another car – no, something bigger, a van – dazzled her, before whoever was driving whirled into a skid that left it blocking the road.

This time, ramming was almost out of her hands. Steph threw the hearse into a swerving emergency stop, trusting to God and Penny's upgraded brakes. Everything spun as they lost traction and aquaplaned, hurtling towards the side of the road, which suddenly became an oncoming ambush of old growth trees in the glare of the headlights.

By willpower and properly serviced automotive systems, they lurched to a stop just as the hearse's front wheels dropped off the asphalt, about six inches into the ditch next to the road.

To her surprise, the engine hadn't stalled. Also, Penny and Renard weren't monsters anymore.

Alright, this was semi-okay: their wheels were all on the ground, even if they weren't at the same level, the engine was still running, and they weren't injured.

Steph reached down for the tire iron and put it in her lap. The Ka-Bar was still in her pocket.

This was over if even one of them had a firearm. Done. Marine martial arts were good, but nobody could beat a blast from a shotgun.

Figures started climbing out of both vehicles. The bigger one was definitely the van from the gas station. The side door slid open and the woman she'd hit with a throat strike climbed out, along with the guys. Two more figures emerged from the trees either side of the white car.

Eight. Her eyes still hadn't adjusted to the dark properly, but none of them moved as if they had a firearm – at least not one that was drawn. That was something. Those beige uniforms were too tight for concealed weapons.

Penny tapped her thigh. There are too many of them for you, she signed, spoiling the attack of good sense by adding, stay in the car, I'm going to talk to them.

"Penny," Steph said, using every ounce of power and authority that her time as an NCO had imbued. "There are between seven and ten people and I don't think they like you. When I get out of this car, you are going to scooch over into the driver's seat and take off like a bat out of hell. Aim for the back wheel of that car and hit it with as much speed as you can."

For a second, Steph thought Penny was going to argue, but after what felt like a minute, she nodded and unbuckled her seatbelt. Renard shifted in her lap, ready to leap out of the car once the door was opened.

"Hey," Steph said, knowing he was a dog and probably not going to understand. "Your job is to stay here. You need to look after her, not get into trouble following me."

Penny smiled and hooked her fingers into his collar. Steph transferred the Ka-Bar from her breast pocket to the large side pocket, where she could reach for it more quickly.

The air outside the car was surprisingly cool. Her eyes adjusted to the dark – she could make out the woman she'd throat struck, who was leading, with Skinny-Fat and his buddy backing her up. The others were just shapes, the white of their oddly pale skin catching the light.

She tested the weight of the tire iron in her hands. The Ka-Bar was the real weapon here. The odds weren't good, even if they didn't have guns. One against... eight? Ten?

Her only chance was that a surprising number of people had never seen someone else die. With any luck, if she could end one of them, and make it bloody, it might just cow the others and buy her some time. Even if it was just time for Penny to get away.

She picked up her pace – it would be best if she could keep things as far away from the hearse as possible. The question was whether she should start with Skinny-Fat or Throat Strike Girl? Skinny-Fat looked like he was ready for a fight, but Throat Strike just had something dangerous about her.

They were twenty feet away from the car. Okay. Better than nothing. With any luck Penny would get the hearse moving now.

Throat Strike glowered, her eyes almost luminous in the darkness. "Do you think the minions of Satan can just drive into our town?" she asked, her voice not much more than a croak.

"I'm Satan?" Steph asked, hand in her pocket. None of them seemed to have guns. "How long have you been hanging out, looking for people to fight at gas stations? That doesn't seem very Christian to me."

Throat Strike looked back to her friends. Steph knew theatre when she saw it. This conversation wasn't for her. It was a mixture of team building, power play and object lesson. 'Look what happens if you mess with us.'

"This community is protected: by his rod and his staff," Throat Strike said. "The world may rot and burn, but we will not stand by and watch as you bring that creature here to be our undoing."

"She's just a goth, you know?" Steph said, easing into a fighting stance. "Look, I get it – I don't understand the whole 'sunglasses at night' thing either, but she's a good person. If emptying your wallet to the first bums you see isn't Christlike, I don't know what is."

Steph tried to watch them without looking away from Throat Strike. Skinny-Fat looked like he'd be the first to make a play, probably followed by his buddy. The others were already halfway to a frenzy.

Maybe if she could take down Skinny-Fat she could break the momentum, but their faces had a sort of light she'd never seen, not even in the eyes of a man about to turn himself into ground beef in the service of the Prophet.

"The singing will stop," Throat Strike croaked. "The Guide will return, and we will be accepted once more into the Garden of Eden."

"The Garden of Eden," Skinny-Fat said, voice raised.

The others chorused the shout. It spread through them like a wave, the electricity almost visible. Jesus Christ, these guys were dangerous.

Penny hadn't tried to start the car yet. Okay. Maybe that was for the best. Wait until they got to work on her, then escape while they were distracted.

"Paul, Tyree," Throat Strike said. "Bring the thing from its chariot."

"Come on," Steph said, forcing eye contact with the pair of men who broke towards the hearse. "Do you think God would put a couple of women in your way just for you to kill? I don't know if you have the same Bible as me, but I remember there being something about loving thy neighbour."

The others moved in on her. Steph slipped a hand into her pocket and gripped the Ka-Bar. This was it. Take down Skinny-Fat as efficiently as possible, try to do Throat Strike, then think of another plan, if she was still standing.

Why wasn't Penny trying to pull out?

Thatwas when they started hitting her.