Zeal
Story by LiveIron on SoFurry
'Move'
>The lights and sirens appear right when the adrenaline begins to wear off.
>You curse and look to the side mirrors -- Rebecca's slumped mass blocks the main one.
>The road is empty, just you and them.
>You press on the accelerator and check the radio again.
>This time the signal's clear -- you were still getting static in the woods.
>Ditching the repeater probably didn't help.
>"Hummingbird reporting! Hummingbird reporting, over!"
>You step on the gas.
>"Steele receiving!" comes the tigress' voice from the other end. "Reinforcement team was sent in half an hour ago, should be there in --"
>"Upgrade it to full liquidation!"
>"What?"
>"I said, upgrade it to full li--"
>The cop blasts their sirens and yells over the loudspeaker.
>"Pull over, now! Slow down, and come--"
>"I'm gonna have an APB on my ass, Steele," you say, "I can't give you a full report now, but trust me, the mansion's a shitshow!"
>"Where are you?" she growls through the speakers.
>"Southbound on 187," you say, "can't tell if it's a local department or sheriff!"
>The engine's growl and whipping wind keep you company while you wait for a response. The lights of the cruiser draw ever closer -- you might've been able to outrun them if you weren't hauling a half-ton of tigress in the back.
>"I can dampen transmissions, but that's it," Steele says as the cop curses over the loudspeaker. "You'll have to deal with that one on your own."
>"Got it," you growl, turning down the volume, "I'll be right back."
>You check the rearview again and tap the brakes; the cop doesn't appreciated being brake-checked.
>You curse as the weight in the bed shifts.
>"Rebecca, you alright?" you ask, looking back through the window.
>She still lies motionless, shadowy curves taking up the whole back window.
>You groan. Wherever you end up, dragging her around again is gonna be a pain in the --
>You duck when the shots ring out.
>"Those were warning shots," the cop yells. "Pull over NOW!"
>"Fucking hell, can't you see there's a woman in the back?" you yell.
>Not that they can hear you. Or see the body in your bed, apparently.
>Glass breaks and metal thuds when the cop fires again.
>You wrench the wheel with a roar, feeling the car glide beneath you.
>Slamming the stick feels good as the car spins.
>The cop's surprise comes through over the loudspeaker as the truck whirls around to face them, engine screaming in reverse.
>The Kolibri is lined up with the driver's seat.
>Then you're back on a different highway with a different truck, pointing a gun at a different cop.
>Fire.
>Rolling cars.
>Ash.
>Death.
>You grunt and pull the shots low, squinting at the spiderwebbing glass.
>"Oh shit!"
>The cop swears more into the intercom as they try to control their skid. It's not easy with flat front tires.
>You wait until you see the headlights come to a slow stop at the side of the road before whipping the truck back around.
>You sigh.
>As you reach for the handset, something makes your ears perk up.
>The engine sounds different.
>You look over the instrument panel. The cop didn't shoot when it was in front of them, and you don't think--
>The truck lurches with a dull thud. You curse as the screech of metal fills the cab.
>The shadow of a car fills the driver-side mirror and pushes against your side.
>You wonder why the hell their lights are dead for the half-second before a claw scrapes along the doors.
>"Damn it all," you hiss.
>The thralls don't give up easily.
>You stomp on the breaks and twist the wheel; the thrall car slides up to your bumper with a scream.
>The sedan is illuminated in your headlights as it spins. You fill the front half with as much fire as you can.
>It tumbles off into the ditch and you stomp on the gas again.
>The mirrors are pitch black -- there's no other headlights to illuminate them, and the moon is too weak.
>And driving backwards the whole way sure as hell isn't going to work.
>The PsyScope whines when you flip it back down.
>Warnings and damage reports fill your vision and one of the lenses is scratched. You knock at the controls to clear them -- all you care about is the night-vision.
>The mirrors look hazy and strange, but it works. Wavy cars veer across the road behind you.
>If it weren't for the big mass in the bed, you'd just shoot through the back of the cab.
>Instead you have to lean out the window like a maniac.
>Your stomach falls when you get a clear picture of what's behind you; the two-lane highway, its shoulders, and ditches are all filled with the driving dead.
>You take a breath and start shooting.
>Having no recoil and no one firing back makes things a little easier, but not by much.
>You're screaming along asphalt at 70 -- there's only so much stress you can negate.
>You go for tires. The thralls can barely drive as is.
>Talia's power sends the 2mm slugs through the rubber with ease. Spinning and squealing cars fill the road behind you.
>Your eyes dart back to the front every few seconds, squinting against the whipping wind.
>"Shit!"
>You cut the wheel and lurch back into the cab, trying to meet the fast-approaching curve. Talia disappears as you grip the wheel and promptly overcorrect.
>Rebecca's weight in the back is the only thing keeping you from skidding down into the ditch.
>You pull the truck back to the center. The adrenaline keeps the bone-rattling bumps from hurting.
>You mirrors are still filled with hazy cars.
>"Christ," you hiss, then grab the radio.
>"Steele! Make sure the liquidation team has EMP! Got some rogue vehicles that might still be around!"
>"Rogue vehi -- Hummingbird, what the hell is going on?"
>"Busy!" you yell, trying to dodge the wild thrusts of the thralls' cars.
>"Disruption charges, do you have disruption charges!?"
>"Not an option!" you yell. The tires squeal as you brake, letting a sedan bounce off your front quarter panel.
>Steel says something as you put more rounds through the windshield into a thrall on your hood.
>It thumps under your wheels.
>"Gonna be a lot of damage control..." you mutter.
>You drive as defensively as you can, but the normal serpentine doesn't work with a half-ton tigress in your trunk.
>The extra weight means other cars bounce off, but one wrong hit to your wheels and you're screwed.
>The leather creaks as you grip the wheel.
>You have to keep moving.
>Keep bobbing and weaving.
>They can all go faster than you, they'll all eventually catch up.
>You sigh; one buzzes past you into a road sign.
>It's what you deserve.
>Ahead, something glints in the distance.
>But it’s not what she does.
>"Talia," you say, staring at the upcoming bridge, "I need you to take the wheel!"
>You let go and fumble on your kit.
>You know this bridge. Somehow you do.
>It'll have to be perfect.
>You unbuckle and watch the steering wheel, explosive charges in hand.
>It twitches side to side, but you don't see it glow.
>"Talia?"
>"Dumb -- ass --"
>You move.
>Whether she's got it or not, you have to.
>Sitting outside the window on the highway is a dumb idea.
>Only now instead of cops, any fuck-ups will be dealt with by the driving dead.
>You grip the hood and look ahead at the bridge.
>Breathe.
>Focus.
>Clear the wind and engines and screaming from your mind.
>You pop the pins on the charges and cast them out behind you.
>The flashes of IR illuminate the scene.
>The end of your truck, scarred by bullets and claws.
>The rushing roadway, guard rails on either side.
>And the flood of possessed cars filling the highway behind you.
>Then it's all lit by fire when the bombs go off.
>Your ears ring; the bridge is no more.
>You see a van smash into the jagged edge of rubble.
>More follow suit.
>You climb back into the cab -- you didn't realize you were holding your breath.
>"Thank you," you whisper, taking the wheel once again.
>Talia huffs in your mind.
>You finger the radio, then think twice about it.
>You're not out of danger yet. You should put more distance between you and the thralls.
>You need to be safe when you take care of Rebecca and call things in. And fortunately, you know just the place.
>...
>...Steele is going to be pissed when she hears you blew up a bridge.