Free The 1000 Souls (Book 2): Generation Apocalypse by Michael Andre McPherson Page B

into the plane, snatching the handles of two more boxes and heaving them out of the mess, gasping and choking as he crawled back out of the plane. He set them just clear of the wreckage and went after the last box, holding his breath against more fumes as he pulled it free.
    He found Milan had dragged himself through the ditch at the edge of the road so that he could sit up with his back to a tree, comfortably far from the wreck. Tevy stood and hurried to carry the ammunition boxes across the street, making three trips.
    “Don’t put them near me, young man. The rippers must not find them. Hide them back in the forest and then get back to here.” Milan pulled a large revolver from under his jacket.
    “My shotgun!” Tevy ran for the plane but didn’t need to crawl back in. The rear window on the Milan’s side had popped out, and Tevy was able to reach in and grab the shotgun and his pack from the back, but the mailbag was out of reach. He considered crawling in when a wump and rush of heat pushed him away. Orange flames enveloped the engine housing. Tevy ran.
    “I thought you said these things didn’t blow up.” Tevy said as he slumped down near Milan, resting his back on another tree and uncontrollably trembling. The plane burned, the fire accelerating with frightening speed. Before Milan could even answer, the entire plane was engulfed.
    “I said they don’t blow up like in the movies. But they burn very well.” Milan opened the chamber on his revolver to check that it was loaded and slapped it closed. “I thought since the engine was already stopped that maybe it would not catch, but I guessed wrong.”
    Tevy nodded and let his breathing slow. He was safe. He was on the ground. “How long till the St. John’s people get here?”
    “Depends on whether the rippers have felled any trees across the road in the last few days.”
    “Why would they do that?”
    Milan looked over in the gathering dusk, the flames lighting his weathered face and giving it a reddish hue. “Of course because they like to try and catch people driving up the highway close to sunset. This is most unfortunate.” He took a deep breath. “Fuck. Listen, young man, my ankle is hurt somehow, not broken I think because I can move it, but I can’t be sure. I can maybe limp but I can’t get far and that is going to attract rippers like moths to the flame.” He pointed with his revolver at the burning wreck. “Save yourself. Run up the road for St. John’s, travel like a mouse, very quiet, and when you see headlights, drop your shotgun and put your hands on your head so that they know you’re surrendering. They will probably put you in a cell overnight till the sun can prove you, but I promise you will be okay.”
    Tevy thought of the Brat Pack, of promises they all made to one another. No one would be left to the rippers. No one would be left behind alive. That left two choices: shoot Milan now or stay, and Tevy had never before killed a human. “I’m not leaving you to die—or worse.”
    Milan sighed in relief. “I was hoping you would say this, but in my conscience I had to give you the chance to leave. I will owe you very big for this if we live. That shotgun, is it your only weapon?”
    “My Glock is loaded, and I’ve a couple of extra clips ready to go.” Tevy stripped off the old jacket, even though an evening chill was settling. He wanted freedom of movement. “And as a last resort I’ve got my knives.
    They waited in silence, watching the orange flames burn low, but the column of smoke from plane was turned into a gray pillar by the light of a rising full moon, even though it was still low and huge on the horizon. The stars, dimmed by the moon, were occluded by a column of smoke, and Tevy could imagine just how significant a direction signal this was from every hill and valley for miles. “Here are humans,” it stated. It might as well be an arrow pointing down to the burning plane. They spent most of the time waving