Gasoline | Ben Parish

52

"DO you even know how to drive?" 

If I wasn't behind the wheel of a massive Humvee, I might've turned around and given Ringer a dirty look. Maybe even a few choice words suggesting that she either shut up or she can drive this thing herself.

But driving a massive Humvee with debris hurling from the sky as Camp Haven gradually explodes is a little outside of my expertise. Extreme difficulty level. They didn't have this in Mario Kart.

I grit my teeth. "Yes," I snap. "Chill out. I know what I'm doing."

Haha, no I don't. This is mostly guess work with me hoping for the best.

"Did you even pass driver's education?"

I take a deep breath. "Ringer, for the love of-"

Teacup screams and I swerve past the body of an alien – well, I only assume so because of the uniform indicating a high ranking.

I feel Dumbo's hand grip my headrest tightly as he yelps, "Stop distracting her!"

Ringer is in the passenger seat, hands out to steady herself on the dashboard and side door. "I'm not distracting her!" I don't have to look at her to know that her dark eyes are flashing. "I'm asking out of concern for my own safety."

"Shut up for a second!" I shout, getting the attention of all my squad in less than three seconds. "Does anybody see him? Or Nugget?" Chances are, where Nugget is, Zombie will be too.

It's hard to see outside in this vehicle – probably because the only thing I've ever driven is a Corolla and I'm too short to properly see over the hood.

The sudden sound of gunfire drowns out whatever Teacup is saying, and the window on my left shatters. "Fuck!" I screech as I deviate from my once somewhat-straight path, trying to stay out of the rain of steel. The Humvee shakes slightly as Poundcake works the guns perched up top.

My hands tighten around the wheel. I lean forward slightly to better see our surroundings. There's a helicopter high above us that's responsible for the shower.

Vosch. I'm willing to bet my life on it. He's the commander of this base; he would be evacuated first on a chopper like a little bitch. He knew that I would come for Zombie. He doesn't even need to put the kid in Wonderland to know that. That has to be the case. He knows who we are and what we're doing.

I continue to dodge his stream of bullets, causing the rest of my squad to smack into the sides of the Humvee every time I veer in a different direction. I almost want to laugh. I thought that the aliens were supposed to be smart. Firing tracer rounds like this – yeah, they help show that you're on target, but they also let the target know where the bullets are.

Ringer's cold hand comes down on my shoulder. "There!" I follow where she's pointing. Three figures, one tall and somewhat built, another short and swimming in his clothes.

Zombie and Nugget. It has to be. I have no idea who the third person is, but I can worry about that later. Zombie's here. He's alive. I've got to get to him.

"Hold on," I say as I make a hard turn, the sharpness of it causing the vehicle to pitch slightly.

Teacup shrieks, and I roll my eyes. "I told you to hold on!"

She says something back, but Cake is firing again so I can't hear it. Probably a good thing. More than likely she just called me a bitch and right now I really don't feel like stopping to teach her a lesson.

There's an awful cracking noise. The ground is giving away near the Air Force Base, causing several chunks of cement and other fun, human-crushable stuff to fall into the new growing crevice.

"Cup, switch with me!" Ringer shouts, already moving into the back seat. Teacup crawls forward, somehow tumbling into the passenger seat without messing my driving up too terribly (though I do have to dodge her foot).

The three figures are closer now, hauling ass away from the hole and the base and the aliens. I can clearly see Zombie now: his dark hair hanging in his face, his thin cheeks burning from exertion, his blood-stained side. There's Nugget, too: tiny and terrified and determined all at once.

The third person has a head of thick blond hair that is bowed as she pushes herself to go just a little farther. She's favoring her leg, limping slightly as she tries to keep up with the fastest kid to complete the obstacle course and the former football star.

I don't know who she is, but I feel for her. She's a survivor. If she's with Zombie, she must be good.

I press my foot down on the gas harder, forcing the Humvee to speed towards them.

Ringer hisses, "Croak, slow down and make a left!"

I shake my head, continuing to drive us right to them.

"Croak!" She hollers over Poundcake's firing and the earth's grumbling and the Humvee's aggressive purr. "Go left now!"

"No!" I narrow my eyes like it will close the distance between myself and the trio faster. "The girl won't make it!"

"Who cares about the girl?" Teacup yells. "We're here for Zombie and Nugget!"

"I think that's Nugget's sister!" Dumbo replies. "Nugget won't go without her, and Zombie won't go without Nugget!"

Ringer's hand is on the door handle. "Croak, if we go any farther, we'll be on unsteady ground that might collapse under the weight of the Humvee. Turn and stop now."

She's right, as usual. It won't really be a real rescue if we all fall into the pit of death and are smashed.

"Fine!" I yell, then jerk the wheel. The Humvee lurches and tilts at the sudden adjustment before righting and thundering along the side of the weakening ground. I slam my foot on the break, flying forward when I do so and nearly busting my nose on the steering wheel.

Ringer throws her door open and waves frantically for them to hurry up.

I see Zombie pick Nugget up and literally toss him to Ringer, who somehow catches the little turd and chucks him into the seat next to her. He's shaking hard and breathing unevenly.

Part of me expects Zombie to hop in next.

...but if he did that, he wouldn't be Zombie.

He turns away from us and runs back the way he came, back to the struggling girl.

I lay on the horn repeatedly. Freakin' selfless asshole.

Zombie proves how incredible he is once again when he latches onto her wrists and swings her around, shot-putting her into Ringer, who falls back and nearly crushes Dumbo and Nugget.

He slams the door shut and then hops onto the back, climbing up top to help Poundcake.

Damn, I love that kid.

My foot releases the break and shoves down on the gas, causing us to rocket forward. I glance back to make sure that Zombie and Cake didn't fall off, then keep going.

We reach the cover of the trees in less than five minutes. The gunfire disappears as the green Humvee embraces its camouflage and blends with the surroundings. The ground is a little rough and bumpy, but at least it's solid.

I hear muttered greetings in the backseat and an unfamiliar voice say, "Is she seriously the best driver out of all of you?"

I want to say something smartass in response, but I end up laughing instead. My heart feels light.

We did it. We got Zombie back.