Free 600 Miles: A Post-Apocalyptic Adventure by G.P. Grewal Page A

with our guns ready, just in case those crazy Mexicans came looking for us in the dead of night.

Chapter 11
     
    The next morning we left our hiding place and it was nice and sunny and there weren't no one but us outside, Roy looking around until he discovered we was near a street called Highland Boulevard, one way leading back into nothing but more city, though looking the other way we saw green hills that couldn't have been more than a few miles away. We hadn't seen them the night before, as dark as it was, but now they was clear ahead of us and would be our escape from the city and the danger that was no doubt still creeping around somewhere nearby.
    Things started to look worse the farther we went, like the whole place had once been on fire long ago, the buildings all black and hollowed out, twisted metal and melted tires and big chunks of the black rubble that had fallen from the burning buildings littering the ground. Weren't nothing special though. I'd seen plenty of places just like it, places where men had fought in desperate last stands against the tanks and guns and flying machines of their own government, everyone having been so poor and angry for so long, the whole country going up like dry tinder after the first few cries of "liberty" had been heard. So went the story at least, though weren't no way of knowing for sure. Not too much else I knew about it, or about who had won, though judging by the way things looked nowadays I'd say it weren't nobody.
    "So is Lost Angeles what you were expecting?" I asked Roy.
    "No," he said. "But then, maybe so."
    "Ain't all of Lost Angeles we're seeing," I said. "Surely there must be more to it than this."
    "It's a big city. Or was. It goes on for miles."
    "There must have been so many people living here," Gitty said.
    "There were. Millions, now all forgotten."
    "How sad."
    "Sad? Necessary, I'd say. Seems like there were just too many people in the world, most of them probably not much different than the savages still living here today. Fortunately, God had a way of wiping the slate clean, just like he'd done so many times before."
    Gitty looked at him confused then looked at me, but weren't nothing to say. I kept quiet, figuring maybe it was just some more spooky book-reading talk like old Pete used to try to scare me with, though even Pete had never said anything quite so cold.
    Suddenly there was a wild shout behind us, like Roy had conjured it up with his creepy words.
    "Move!" he said.
    There were a whole lot of them filling up the street, even more than before, yelling things I couldn't understand as they came running, pipes and knives and sweaty half-naked bodies glistening in the sun.
    We ran down the street, Gitty struggling to keep up, those Mexicans gaining on us fast.
    "We ain't gonna outrun them!" I shouted. Roy didn't hear me, or if he did he didn't care, already a good ways ahead of us and not slowing, those howling madmen closer every time I looked back. It was either turn and face them or have them cut us down from behind. Soon they was so close that I could hear their feet hitting the pavement, and that's when I stopped, whipping out my gun.
    The first shot was a good one, plugging one of them devils right in the chest. Then another shot, then another, all fired as quick as I could get them off. Out of six shots I only dropped two, though my shooting had finally caused some of the others to take cover, this bunch not as brave as the first. Gitty appeared right beside me, dropping one more with her rifle as I fumbled for more bullets, my shaky hands struggling to reload.
    They was charging again, regaining their courage now that the rest of their number had caught up. "Run, Gitty!" I yelled, knowing that there were just too many to fight off. My pistol came up right as one of them snarling fiends appeared right in front of me, blood splattering my face as I shot him point blank in the eyes. Another one was on me in the same moment, swinging a tire iron that