Free The Hungry by Steve Hockensmith, Joe McKinney, Harry Shannon, Steven Booth

biker two cycles forward. Screaming, he grabbed at his back, dumped his bike and went tumbling along the asphalt like a bag of bloody rags. Three or four of the others swerved to miss the downed motorcycle, but one got tangled up in the wreckage anyway. They were taking each other out. Miller winced as yet another one of them—a big, overweight biker with a short beard—went right over the handlebars. The guy did a face plant on the highway. A long plume of blood colored the roadway as he rolled by them into the dust.
    A few of the bikers were down due to sheer luck and incompetence, but there were still way too many left for Miller's comfort. Speeding along, Terrill Lee jinked the truck between burned out cars that blocked the roadway, as much to avoid hitting them as to avoid the aim of the bikers. They had to keep moving and hope the enemy would just give up. What is their problem? Why chase the living in a world overrun by the dead?
    Unless they were after fresh pussy. And she was in a wedding dress. Uh oh.
    One of the bikers yanked the accelerator on his motorcycle. He surged forward. He came up alongside the truck, carefully staying clear of the arc of the shotgun. He fired several rounds into the Durango, one of them lodging in the dashboard not far from Miller's knee. Miller set the shotgun on the floor of the truck. She pulled out her Smith and Wesson. In one smooth movement, she drew a bead on the speedy biker and pulled the trigger. The bullet caught him square in the throat. He went over sideways, clutching at the gaping wound where his Adam's apple used to be. His bulging eyes said he couldn't believe he'd been gunned down by a pissed-off young bride still in her wedding dress. Take that, you fat skunk.
    "Hey," said Terrill Lee.
    Miller turned her attention to the front of the vehicle. She saw flickering and objects in the road. Seconds later she identified a roadblock of Nevada Highway Patrol cruisers, their lights flashing. They were up ahead, closing fast now, perhaps a half-mile away.
    Miller breathed a sigh of relief. "I do believe we still got a chance."
    "I'm on it," said Terrill Lee. He pushed the accelerator to the floor, and began inching away from the bikers behind them. Bullets still sometimes impacted on the back of the Durango, but Terrill Lee didn't slow down or flinch, not even for an instant.
    And that's when the left rear tire blew. The change in balance and thumping sound threw him off. The truck swerved and slowed. Miller could hear the rim touch asphalt. She could see sparks out of the side view mirror.
    "Come on, come on," Miller chanted, an unconscious imitation of Terrill Lee at the front window, just a few minutes before.
    "I think I can make it," he said. The Durango continued to slow.
    Bikers easily came up along the right side, and Miller blasted one right out of the saddle. The driver's side was unprotected, so one of the bolder bikers, an older man with no front teeth, came up close enough to grab the windowsill of Terrill Lee's door. Terrill Lee, seeing salvation in sight, swerved and slammed the brakes. The biker and his bitch went up and over the hood. Thump thump…
    They bumped along, still slowing down. The police roadblock was perhaps forty yards away now. Miller could see some of the Patrol Officers milling around behind their parked cruisers, but they took no action to protect the oncoming car against the pursuing bikers. Finally the truck came to a complete stop a few yards from their lines.
    Miller popped her door open. She let fly with two more shots, going for covering fire if nothing else. Terrill Lee leapt from his side. He began firing back at the bikers, who turned sideways, hid behind their machines and returned the favor.
    "Let's go ," she screamed. Miller jumped up, gathered the wedding dress in one hand and the shotgun in the other. She ran as fast as she could toward the roadblock and safety. She could sense that Terrill Lee was only a few steps behind.
    The