Post-Apocalyptic Fiction by Sean Liscom

“He told me that Ruiz and Wilcox had a way into the vault that nobody knew about. He told me that they were already inside and that the only way to get you out was to blow the elevator shaft apart. Jason, he recognized my voice. He didn’t confuse me with Isabella! It had to be him!”

“What else?”

“He knew the phones were going to fail. He told me the vault was flooding and I needed to mount a rescue. He knew everything! It was like he was standing here, in the middle of all this!” her voice grew louder. At that point, Ruiz was pulled from the hole. Kari immediately ran to the man. She extended her hand and pulled him up. “Where is he?” she demanded.

Excerpt

No sooner had my two Jeep convoy cleared the gate of the ranch when I received a radio call from Jill. She informed me that O.P. 3 had just spotted a Hummer driving down the road about five miles south of the ranch. It was headed south, away from Elko and the ranch at a high rate of speed. When we reached the main road, I cranked the wheel to the left and pushed the throttle to the floor.

The Hummer from the EDF may have had quite a lead on us but I was sure we could catch them. Pushing the Jeep through 80 mph, I eased to the right side of the dirt road, so the following Jeep wasn’t getting dusted out. The driver, Ryan, understood what I was doing, and he closed the distance between us once he had a clear view.

It didn’t take us long to get a visual on the fleeing Hummer. Their top speed was about 65. We were cruising at 90. When we were about a mile from them, I picked up the radio mic and repeatedly tried to raise them. Each attempt was met with silence.

“Guess they ain’t in the mood for polite conversation,” I remarked to the Mustang squad leader. A guy about my age named Rick.

“I guess not. How you wanna do this boss?”

“Not sure yet. Makin this up as I go.”

“Works for me,” he grinned.

We were now roughly 100 yards behind them, and I could see a man taking up a position behind the turret mounted 50 caliber atop the Hummer. I jammed hard on the brakes as did the second Jeep. The man behind the 50 spun it in our direction and opened fire. Much to my dismay, the windshield didn’t shatter, and I didn’t hear any of the heavy rounds impacting the Jeep. As we continued to scuff off speed and put some distance between us, he continued to shoot over our heads. It was almost as if he were trying to miss us.

“What the hell?” I muttered. I stabbed the throttle pedal and the Jeep instantly accelerated. When the gunner let his next volley fly, the rounds kicked up dirt just ahead of us. I let off the gas again.

“Ya want me to lean out the window and see if I can pick him off?” Rick asked.

“No, not yet anyway,” we continued to follow from about 250 yards as I tried to work through the problem in my head. That 50 could destroy both these Jeeps but he didn’t seem interested in doing that. The driver had to know he couldn’t outrun us, and we had twice the fuel range he had. What the hell was this guy playin at? It only took me a second or two to realize what was happening. Ambush. He was drawing us into an ambush."