I knock the kickstand down and dismount my bike, approaching the rickety front gate of the unnamed settlement and pounding my fist against the sheet metal. "Yo! Need a place to stay! I can fix pretty much anything in exchange!" I don't usually stop at random settlements, and for good reason. It's asking for trouble trolling around in some places. I recall multiple occasions that I've stumbled upon satanic cultists while trying to find a good place to rest my head. Normally, I'd just tie myself into the canopy of a tree and call it a night, but I have a secondary interest in acquiring information about the mayor's daughter that I can't get from the squirrels. "Sun's going down!"
A husky voice responds from the other side. "Why didn't you stop back in Ann Arbor?"
I sigh with exasperation and bang my forehead against the gate. "There's a crowd of zombies blocking the interstate. I thought I was going to be able to make it to Toledo tonight but I had to reroute and it fucked up my plans. All I need is one night and I'm gone."
"Got guns?" He asks, and I bite my lip. Ness restocked my 9mm ammo for my Glock and added a tricked-out AR-15 to my arsenal, including 150 rounds of.223 to release into the world.
"A couple."
"Toss them over and I'll let you in."
"Not happening. I'll give you one of them. You get the other when I'm inside and the gate is shut behind me." I listen for a moment as the man exchanges some quiet words with another.
"We'll accept that, but fuck around and we turn you into Swiss cheese." He replies, and I nod my head. I toss my Glock over the gate, and wait for a moment while they unlock and swing it open. The bottom of the gate drags against the dirt, forming a quarter-circle design in the ground as it creaks open just enough for me to push my bike through. I keep a good grip on my AR in preparation of a surprise attack.
I scan the surroundings quickly, grateful to find nothing of concern. There's two men near the gate, one of which is holding my Glock, and the other toting a mean sawed-off double-barrel shotty. There's a dozen more men scattered across the settlement grounds, all off which are staring directly at me. I don't sense any hostility, only curiosity, and perhaps a hint of trepidation, though the apparent lack of women strikes me as a notable oddity. The settlement layout consists of a walled-off cul-de-sac with what appears to be a small, elegant wooden statue of some kind erected in the center.
The man holding my Glock points toward the house nearest the front gate. "That's my place. You can stay in the guest room for the night. In exchange, if you could take a look at our windmill, I'd appreciate it. Damn thing's not kicking out power the way it did last year, despite the weather being twice as windy."
I see the mill mounted atop his rooftop, and conclude that he must be in charge of safeguarding the power supply as well as the front gate. "Sounds like a deal." I prepare to follow him, but he holds out his hand. "Your other weapon, sir. I hope you understand we can't allow you to remain in our tiny settlement with a weapon like that when all we have to protect ourselves is this shotgun and kitchen utensils."
I click my tongue repeatedly, considering my options, before finally relinquishing the AR. If things go south, I'll just need to trust my skills like I usually do. I roll my bike beside myself as I follow the man to his home. The rest of the residents begin to disperse to their homes, and the other gatekeep locks the front gate as the sun disappears behind the horizon.
...
I collapse into the bed, ready for some sleep. I'll need to get up early tomorrow if I want to get the windmill serviced and make it to Cincinnati before sundown. The man, who introduced himself as Richter, showed me where he was to store my guns, which I made an effort of thanking him for sharing with me, knowing that he would be able to easily move them during the night. I had tied together a few sheets and attached them to the bed, leaving the end of them draped on a chair next to the open window. If I needed to make a quick departure, then getting to the ground from the second story would be tricky without preparations. I had also wedged a chair underneath the doorknob to slow any intruders. They'd be forced to kick the door down in order to get in.
With the room ready for whatever may come, I rest my pike on the floor next to the bed and close my eyes, hoping for the best but expecting more cultish mischief.
Something slams into the bedroom door with a deafening bang, splinters from the doorframe exploding into the room and skittering across the floor. I jump to my feet and grope groggily for my pike.
"Really?" I yell at the intruders. "You didn't even have the decency to wait five hours? Fucking cunts!" I'm not certain how long it's been, but my internal clock is telling me it's been something between 2 and 3 hours. Hearing a cacophony of booted footsteps in the hallway, I rush at the door and punch the pike directly through the center of it, earning a shriek of pain from an unknown man on the other side. I stab three more times, until the sound of the double barrel shotgun hammer being pulled back dissuades me from attempting further attacks. I dive to the side as the doorknob explodes with a mighty pop of gunpowder.
Scampering to my feet, I dive headfirst out the window, grasping the sheets on my way by. The makeshift rope slows my decent enough for me to toss my pike aside and right myself in midair. I land on my feet and perform a crisp safety roll on the soft grass. I rush to my pike and pull it out of the ground, scanning the surrounding darkness for hostiles. Seeing none, I conclude that most of the fuckery must be taking place upstairs.
I hear muffled shrieks. I squint in the direction of the noise, and see what I had originally considered to be a wooden statue moving. The statue is actually a naked woman tied in an uncomfortable position to some kind of wooden assembly. She's writhing against the restraints and trying to free herself. I sigh with exasperation, amazed that they had been able to hide her from me just by making a couple guys stand in front of her in the dim light of dusk.
I hear trampling footsteps and yelling in the house behind me, and sprint toward the house's front porch. Throwing my pike at the roof, I jump to the porch railing, then to the gutter, swinging myself onto the porch roof just as the men barrel through the front door and spill out onto the yard. In the dim light, I can make out three figures roaming around blindly and exchanging confused words. Two of them run toward the side of the house that I had escaped from, and the third makes his way around the other side, brandishing the shotgun. I crouch in preparation, waiting for the man to properly separate himself. Confident that I have enough time, I launch myself off the roof and land on top of the man, ramming the spear through his back. With his lungs fully destroyed, he can't manage more than a bubbly wheeze, though his finger tugs the trigger of the shotty, letting off another blast of light and noise that blows a hole in the siding next to us.
I rip the spear from his body and throw it through the first-floor window, shattering the glass. I decide to take a risk and grab the shotgun before vaulting off the rusty air conditioning unit and back into the house through the "open" window. I land in the living room and immediately open the shotgun to check the load, whispering with triumph as I find an unspent shell sitting in the chamber. I slam the gun shut and listen silently as the other two men round the house to investigate the scuffle.
I hear them approach the body, one of them whispering for him to respond. I peek over the windowsill, surprised to find them both looking down at the body: best case scenario. I prepare to shoot one of them, but the sound of shuffling footsteps behind me forces me to change my plan. I roll to the side as gunshots ring out, lighting up the living room with blinding flashes. I run and slide across the wooden floor behind the couch as the man fires wildly at the window. I pop out of cover and blast his chest open with a quick shot, dropping him to the floor.
With the ammo spent, as a last-ditch effort, I reel back and chuck the damn thing at the front door, miraculously bashing one of the two approaching pricks. I dive for my Glock and empty the rest of the magazine into the reeling man as well as pumping multiple well-placed shots into the wall next to it, hoping to tag the other dude with a lucky penetration shot. I drop the empty Glock and pick up my pike, rushing out the front door to finish off what I hope with all my heart is the last person trying to kill me.
The man is limping across the front yard toward next door, where another man is cautiously approaching, wearing nothing but pajama pants. The fleeing man turns, the AR gripped tightly in his arms, and fires off a series of wild shots. With no other options, I block out the whizzing bullets and fucking rail-gun my spear at the man from across the yard. The spear sails directly into the man's forehead, ripping his skin open and cracking his skull before bouncing off into the grass. He falls to his knees and moans with pain as blood begins to stream down his face.
I sprint toward him and knee him in the face, finishing him off with some well-placed shots to the heart and head before turning the gun on the approaching neighbor. I feel wetness on my side, and conclude that I must've taken a bullet or two.
"Back off, fucker!" I yell, as more men appear from the houses around the settlement. I fire off one more warning shot into the sky, confident that I still have half the magazine left judging by the weight of the gun. I make my way to the woman in the center of the cul-de-sac and sling the AR around my neck while I untie her. I keep my eyes scanning our surroundings as the rest of the men groggily mill about and exchange muffled words. It seems that the rest of the settlement may not have been made privy to the shenanigans taking place tonight.
The woman pulls the gag from her mouth and sputters a few times before speaking. "There're more people locked in the basement- I mean Richter's basement. He said there's a truck from Cincinnati coming to pick them up tomorrow. You have to let them out! My best friend is down there! She's been down there for like a week!"
I wince and press my palm tightly into my side as I pull the last rope from her ankle and stumble back in the direction of Richter's place. I keep the AR gripped tight in both hands, brandishing it at all the surrounding men at once. "I got enough bullets for everyone but I'd rather not waste them. Fuck off properly and no one else has to get fucked up. Come anywhere near Richter's house and I'll blow out your kneecaps."
I climb the porch stairs slowly, the bullet wound sizzling with pain at every movement. The woman dashes past me into the house. I see her disappear into the kitchen and speed up my pace to catch up with her. I make my way down the basement stairs after her, slinging the AR over my shoulder and gripping the handrail for dear life as I descend into the dingy darkness.
The woman flicks the light on, illuminating a group of figures lying in close proximity to each other on scattered mattresses. Most of the people are young women, but I can also see a few boys less than 15 years of age as well as a little girl no older than seven. A few of the women blink awake and sit up, shielding their eyes from the light as they struggle to figure out what's going on. I kneel down close to them and set the gun on the floor as I quietly address the women who have woken.
