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Saturday
11:30 AM PST/2:30 PM EST
The ride through the Mojave Desert is tedious. Rick detours around wrecked and burned out AutoCars and trucks, often riding on the shoulder of the highway or on the dirt median separating the North and South lanes to get around vehicles. He pushes through as quickly as possible to get past the flies and smell of the dead. Some wrecks are three days old, while others look fresh from the night before. He chases away a pair of coyotes tugging on a human leg hanging out of a car door. He does not see any survivors. The coyotes look well fed.
He feels guilty. The death and destruction should shock him but he’s unmoved. He has two objectives; stay alive and get home to his family. Nothing else matters.
A big pileup often leads to open road for several miles before he weaves his way through another tangle of wrecks. He is happy to have the old Scout. Curtis’ Corvette would never have made it through the mass of smashed cars.
During a long open stretch of road, Rick gazes at the barren desert landscape. He is not a geologist, but he is certain the desert once was the floor of a great ocean. Today, the sky is a dull reddish brown making the desert look more like the surface of Mars.
Rick passes the town of Baker. There are no signs of life, but even before the storms, Baker was not much more than a strip of restaurants and gas stations. The buildings look intact, but meteorites have shattered the tall gas station signs. Baker is usually a place for travelers to recharge and fuel up. Today it’s a dusty turn in the road.
It’s Saturday morning. It seems like ages ago when he gave the lecture for Professor Heinrich, but that was just last Monday. He was focused on his grant. Five days later he’s focused on survival.
Rick spots an overpass ahead. The exit sign says it’s Rasor Road. A white sheet hangs from the overpass with the word Salvation painted with what looks like dried blood. Cars jam the area all around the overpass. Cars jammed under overpasses have been commonplace on Rick’s ride down Highway 15. An overpass offers the rare opportunity for protection from the asteroid storms.
The overpass at Rasor road has more cars than usual. Vehicles are parked five and six abreast on the two-lane highway, making the road impassable. Rick slows and turns around. He rides back to the exit ramp. He rides up the ramp and is about to pass through the intersection at the top of the ramp before riding down the 'on’ ramp to the highway, when he sees three young girls with flowing white dresses running toward him waving their arms and calling out to him.
The girls are the first living people Rick has seen since leaving Curtis’ house. The young girls’ white dresses billowing in the wind look dreamlike. As the girls run, dust rises and twists in the breeze behind them.
“Welcome to Salvation,” he hears them calling.
Rick rides slowly up a dirt road to meet the girls.
The girls continue to call out, “Welcome to Salvation. Welcome to Salvation.”
He stops but remains on the Scout letting it idle as he meets the young girls. “Welcome to Salvation,” they say haltingly, looking the rider over. He notices each girl holds a small palm branch.
Rick must look scary to the girls. They face a strange biker wearing a black leather duster, black boots, and slacks with a face hidden behind the dark glass bubble of the Bullitt Retro helmet, but the girls hold their smiles.
The girl in the middle takes a step forward. She is taller and looks older than the others. “Are you the preacher?” she asks.
The two other girls repeat the question. “Are you? Are you the Preacher?”
Rick lifts the visor of the helmet. “I’m nobody’s preacher. I’m just passing through. Do you need help?”
“We need the preacher to open Salvation. He said when tribulation comes to meet him here at Salvation. He alone has the key. But he hasn’t arrived,” explains the tall girl.
“We watched every stream over and over with Mother. Everyone is here. We’re prepared,” says the smallest girl.
“You’re a church group?” Rick quizzes.
“Tribulation Church. We’ve come to Salvation,” the third girl states, as if Rick should know this.
“You brought your Salvation kit, didn’t you?” asks the smallest girl looking at the Scouts saddle bag.
“What?” asks Rick.
“We all have them. White robes washed in the blood of the lamb made from non-actualized 100% cotton, preserved organic palm branches, tribulation limited edition prayer books and a map to Salvation signed by the preacher,” the tallest girl states, plainly.
“Didn’t your order arrive before the coming of tribulation?” asks the smallest girl.
Rick shakes his head, trying to take in the information.
“Don’t worry. Mother bought extras. Join us,” says the third girl.
“Sorry. I’m not your preacher. I don’t know where he is. I’ve never heard of salvation kits. My salvation is in Los Angeles. I’d best keep heading that direction. Get yourselves under that overpass for protection from the storm, tonight,” Rick says as he turns the Scout to leave.
As he turns, he meets two men in white robes walking up from the highway carrying a stretcher between them. The stretcher holds the body of a young woman dressed in a white robe. Splotches of blood ink the cotton. The men look happy. They smile at Rick as they pass calling out the now familiar greeting. “Welcome to Salvation.”
The young girls look at the body of the dead woman with excitement and joy. “She is blessed. She is blessed. Salvation belongs to our God, who sits on the throne and to the Lamb.”
Rick’s eyes follow the men as they walk toward a small building up the dirt road. He sees a large group of people dressed in white standing around the building. Next to the building are rows of bodies adorned in white robes lying in the dirt.
“What is this church? Are you all trying to die out here?” Rick asks.
“The Preacher prepared us. He told us: go to Salvation receive the seal and live on. The Preacher said: Although we are prepared many will die during tribulation. It’s OK. They are blessed. The blessed will sit before the throne of God and serve him day and night in his temple. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes,” the oldest girl repeated her rote learning.
“Join us. Come with us. Come to Salvation. Tribulation will get you out here,” the smallest girl says, tearing up.
“If you’re not trying to die, what the heck is this Salvation?” asks Rick.
“That building leads to Salvation,” the second girl says, pointing to the small structure up the road.
“They say it was part of an underground network built by the old phone company, AT and T a long time ago. It has many underground levels and is built to survive a nuclear blast. The Preacher bought it and prepared it for us,” the third girl explains.
“It’s a big underground house. It’s our Salvation! It can be your salvation, too!” cries the smallest girl.
“Oh great. An underground house. Sorry, sweetheart like I said my Salvation is in Los Angeles. My family’s there. I need to get home,” Rick revs the engine of the old Scout.
The sound of a gunshot echoes across the desert, followed by people cheering.
Rick looks back to the small building. “Sounds like someone isn’t waiting for your preacher.”
The girls squeal as they run up the road to Salvation.
Rick presses his foot to put the Scout in gear, releases the clutch, and rides down the ‘on’ ramp. “At least they have a place to keep them safe. I pray it’s the Salvation they hoped for,” Rick thinks to himself as he rides down the highway.
The girls run up to the small building, which is thirty feet long and ten feet deep. There are no windows, but two doors; one, a normal-sized metal door and the other a roll-up metal garage door. A man rolls the garage up as the girls arrive. The girls push through the crowd of white robes to see what is inside. The excitement and cheers go silent.
“It’s a freight elevator,” says the man. “There’s no power. An elevator’s no help,” says another.
The leading edge of the crowd moves to the small metal door. “Backup! Give him room. Move back,” says a deep male voice in the mass of white robes. The crowd moves away, and a shot is fired. The man with the gun kicks the door open, revealing a dark room with a metal staircase dropping into darkness.
The smallest girl squeezes to the front and stands next to a man holstering his gun. “Is it the stairway to Salvation?” the girl asks, reaching to hold the big man's hand. She grasps one of his fingers.
“Mother says it is. You’d better hope so. There aren’t a lot of options out here,” says the man as several people rush for the door.
A woman in a white robe with long white hair raises her hands to stop people from entering the small building. Her hair is pure white, but her narrow face is not wrinkled making it difficult to determine her age.
“Hold on, now. Let the elders check first. Jacob, you go,” she says, pointing to one of the older men. The woman is calm yet confident. The crowd follows her command.
“Yes, Mother,” is his response before entering the dark building.
The tall man with the gun looks down at the smallest girl, allowing her to get a better grip on his hand. “The newcomer wasn’t your preacher?”
The small girl frowns. “No.”
“Did you convert him? Is he joining us?”
“No. He didn’t have a Salvation Kit. I told him Mother has extras, but he rode away on his motorcycle. He said his salvation is in Los Angeles where his family is,” the disappointed girl explains.
“You let one get away. I’m surprised,” the big man says.
“I think he’s from the same army as you?”
“Same army? What do you mean?”
“The stripe,” the young girl says, pointing to the gray stripe down the big man’s slacks.
Mother and the girls found the bald, muscular man walking along highway 160, near Four Corners where the borders of Colorado, New Mexico, Utah, and Arizona meet. After several hours in the car, the women convinced the man to join them at Salvation. He became especially close to the youngest girl.
The big man squats down to look the small girl in the face. “You mean he wore black slacks with a gray stripe like mine?”
The girl nods vigorously. “Yes, and the same boots.”
“Heading to Los Angeles to be with his family,” the man repeats what the young girl stated. She nods. Kobalt removes and folds his white robe neatly before placing it in Mother's hands.
“There’s something I need to take care of once and for all. Get yourselves settled in. I’ll be back before the storms start up.”
Kobalt runs to the highway. While the others were dressing the dead in white robes and looking for the Preacher, Kobalt staged a large sport utility vehicle (SUV) under the overpass and cleared a path through the wrecked cars for a quick departure in case of trouble or if Salvation was a bust. He jumps in the SUV and races down Highway 15.
Rob works at his desk. Data signals are down. There is no news and no streams. He expected at some point they would be cut off from the outside world. He didn’t expect it to happen so quickly. The windows in the hideaway are off. He would feel guilty if they displayed a pleasant scene.
Rob hears sounds of a discussion deeper in the mine. Moments later, Eddie and Rodrigo approach Rob’s desk. Edgar and George trail behind. This contingent comprises the men of the hideaway.
Eddie speaks first. “Rob, we need to take care of the dead.”
“We can’t leave them out there, not like that,” says Rodrigo.
“We agreed nobody goes outside, but we need to take care of them for health and safety issues,” adds Eddie.
“The smell,” says George, waving a hand in front of his nose.
“And the dogs. Dead flesh will bring coyotes and wolves,” adds Edgar, sounding fearful.
“There are no wolves in the San Gabriel’s, only mountain lions,” Rob says in a scary voice.
“You’re right. We must take care of the dead lest we lose our humanity; what little we have left,” Rob adds.
The men move up the mine shaft toward the entrance to undertake the gruesome task. Selina startles the men, calling after them. “Wait. I’m going with you. They were my friends. I must pay my respects to the dead.”
Rick curses himself for stopping at Salvation. He could have been at Barstow by now. The people are safe. Weird, but safe. They opened Salvation. They have sanctuary from the storms.
He uses the off ramp/on ramp trick to skirt around the crush of vehicles at the Basin Road overpass. The highway ahead is clear, allowing Rick to ride faster and make up lost time. He is peaceful and free. He has only been riding the old Scout for a couple hours, but he feels relaxed and comfortable bouncing lightly on the wide seat supported by heavy springs.
The desert somehow looks emptier and more desolate than usual. The vastness of the desert is meditative. He allows his mind to wander to pass the time. Time, that’s all he needs, a little more time, and he’ll be back with Courtney, Rob, and the kids. This is his mantra. He visualizes his happy reunion while he swerves through a narrow gap between stalled cars, before riding up another exit ramp and roaring back down to the highway.
Kobalt sets the SUV to manual mode driving the electric vehicle as fast as it will move. He focuses on the road ahead searching for a motorcycle. He uses the same method as Rick to get around blocked overpasses. At the top of each overpass he squints hoping the higher elevation will allow him to see farther. Kobalt sees nothing but empty desert and dead autos. He knows Rick Munday is on this highway and there’s only one road to Los Angeles. Kobalt presses the pedal to the floor.
Kobalt may have found Salvation, but he will never find peace, not until Rick Munday is dead. Kobalt recalls when Mother and the girls saw him walking along the highway and offered a ride. The oldest daughter rode shotgun. Kobalt sat in the passenger seat next to the smallest girl. He listened to their story. Mother’s confident determination to reach Salvation impressed him.
He thought their religiosity, the white robes, and a place called Salvation was over the top. He never went in for the Bible stuff, but he admired their spirit and honored their quest. He plans to stay with them at Salvation. He might be happy there helping them survive the storms.
Now, Rick Munday passes through and, as usual, ruins everything. Rick’s appearance is a tortured reminder of Kobalt’s failures. He cannot allow Munday to survive. He will never have peace in Salvation if he allows Munday to live.
He measures his progress with each overpass he crosses. He makes it past Field Road, then Alvord Mountain Road. As he crosses each overpass, he looks ahead in search of Rick Munday.
Rick rides past Harvard Road. As the highway clears of cars, he speeds up. The Scout responds with its familiar deep rumble, steady and sure. Four minutes later, Rick approaches another overpass. The overpass at Hacienda Road does not have an exit ramp. Rick slows to get a lay of the land. Hacienda Road starts five miles back at Harvard Road and runs parallel to Highway 15 before crossing the highway ending at a failed housing development. Cars and trucks jam the underpass so tightly even the old Scout can’t shimmy through.
Rick thinks about heading across the desert to ride around the overpass, but a wire fence lines each side of the highway. He doesn’t want to risk damaging the bike or his body trying to crash through the fence. He rides across the center median to check the fence on the other side of the highway. There are no breaks in the fence. He’s wasting time. There are roads running parallel to the highway on both sides. The road running along the northbound lanes continues past Hacienda road. He decides his best choice is to ride back to Harvard Road and take that road until he can get back on Highway 15.
Rick curses as he crosses into the northbound lane steering the bike back toward Harvard Road. He hopes there won’t be many more detours.
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Kobalt clears the cars at Harvard Road and speeds down Highway 15. He is so focused on the road ahead; He almost misses the motorcycle going the opposite direction on the northbound lanes.
Rick sees an SUV in the south-bound lane. He watches it with curiosity. There have been no autos moving on the highway. He looks at the driver side window as the SUV passes. “It can’t be,” he thinks to himself.
The SUV drives onto the center median, throwing up a huge cloud of dust.
“Oh, shit!” Rick shouts as he guns the throttle hoping to gain extra speed from the Scout.
The SUV hits the highway pavement; As its tires grip the asphalt, Kobalt punches the accelerator. “I’ve got you now, Munday!” Soon, Kobalt is closing the distance on the motorcycle.
Rick tucks his head low against the wind, eking out extra speed. Harvard Road is coming up quick.
Kobalt’s heart is pumping. Sweat forms on his brow. He grips the steering wheel, like a Formula One racer trying to make the 200 mile per hour Club.
Rick takes the exit ramp for Harvard Road. At the end of the ramp, he drops from fourth gear to second. He does not hit the brakes; downshifting slows the bike, setting it up for the turn. Once in the turn, he gooses the throttle punches into third gear and takes a hard right on Harvard Road. Sixty yards later, he takes another hard right, allowing the rear wheel to drift through the turn onto the road that runs along the highway. The signpost reads, Yermo Road. He sees the SUV exit Highway 15 as he speeds up putting the bike into fourth gear; jetting down the road.
Kobalt watches the bike speed down a side road as he reaches the exit ramp. The SUV is moving too fast for the sharp turn at the end of the ramp and spins through the intersection and into the dirt almost hitting the Highway 15 North entrance sign. Speeding through the dirt he roars down Harvard Road, then cuts the corner burning rubber onto Yermo Road.
Rick blasts down the two-lane road, hoping to put some distance between himself and Kobalt. He spots a dust cloud behind him in the circular mirror mounted on the handlebars counting his blessings for the few seconds lead on the SUV.
Kobalt curses himself for his sloppy driving. “Go ahead. Speed away, Munday. There’s no place to hide. You’re not getting away from me, this time.”
Munday’s capture and kill are inevitable. Kobalt preaches patience to himself as he speeds down the center of the two-lane road. He caresses his side arm running his fingers down the length of its leather holster.
Rick prays that the electric-powered SUV will run low on charge hoping the high-speed chase will drain the battery cells faster. Hopes and prayers aren’t proving effective. Rick spies the mirror; the SUV is coming up fast.
An animal dashes out from the sagebrush, just after the Scout passes. Rick watches his mirror. The SUV smacks the animal without diverting. The jack rabbit is plastered to the front bumper of the fast-moving truck. The dead rabbit slowly slips off the bumper tumbling under the SUV on the hot asphalt.
Kobalt removes his Sig Sauer P320 from its holster, the magazine holds nineteen pieces of lead. Kobalt tucks the Sig between his legs as he presses the SUV faster, coming within feet of the Indian Scout’s rear wheel.
He lowers his window and grips the Sig as he moves the truck to the right to get a clear shot. He passes the Stop Ahead sign without the sign registering in his consciousness.
Munday is even with Kobalt’s window. Kobalt aims. The cycle slows abruptly. Kobalt fires. The shot misses. Seconds later, the cycle is behind the SUV.
Kobalt looks forward and sees that Yermo Road is ending. There’s a T intersection ahead, and he’s approaching fast. Kobalt hits the brakes hard skidding through the intersection veering to the road on the left. Munday slowed to set the Scout up for a hard-right turn. He increases speed through the turn and zoomed up the road to cross an overpass. Kobalt watches the cycle head north in his rearview mirror. He does a quick U-turn once again sending up dust clouds and speeds toward the overpass.
Unknown to Rick, the entrance to the highway from Yermo Road differs from other overpasses. The overpass at Yermo Road crosses Highway 15, then makes a long eastward lopsided loop and merges with the highway a half mile east of the overpass. Instead of bypassing a jammed underpass, he is headed directly for it. As Rick rides down the on-ramp, he sees the underpass is blocked by a semi-trailer lying on its side. Kobalt isn’t far behind, but there is no choice. He turns the Scout around, and heads back up the overpass.
Kobalt has fired at Rick. Rick doesn’t want a gunfight, but he’s about to be in one. He pulls the zombie killer from its holster. Cradling the pistol grip at his hip he pulls the pump handle back to load a slug into the chamber, then rests the shotgun barrel on the handlebars.
Rick hears the high-pitched whine of the electric motor being pushed to the max. The SUV crests the overpass.
Rick spots Kobalt coming at him full bore. He doesn’t hesitate; he fires the shotgun. The shot misses.
Kobalt sees the muzzle blast. He isn’t surprised that the shot missed. “Great shot you skinny Astro geek. Watch how a professional does it.” In a controlled move, he aims the Sig out the window. He has Munday lined up in the sights. He fires.
Rick rides with no hands momentarily to pump another cartridge into the firing chamber causing the bike to swerve. Kobalt’s bullet whizzes past. The distance between the Scout and the SUV is closing fast. Rick grabs the handlebar to recover, aims lower and fires. The windshield of the SUV cracks. The slug puts a large hole in the glass and continues through the SUV blowing out the rear window. Kobalt ducks below the dash, firing the Sig repeatedly. The shock of a shotgun slug ripping four inches from his head sends his bullets off target.
The Indian Scout speeds past the SUV across the overpass. At the end of the bridge, Rick jumps the bike off the road landing hard on the sandy scruff, then rides up a dirt embankment and onto the highways north bound lanes. Rick holsters the shotgun and runs through the gears to get as much distance between himself and Kobalt.
“Damn you, Munday!” Kobalt curses loudly as he hits the brakes to make another U-turn. “I’ve had enough of you professor.” He makes the turn onto the off-ramp chasing Rick down Highway 15, going south on the northbound lanes.
Rick’s heart is pumping. He’s never fired a shotgun before. The recoil hurt his hand. He is excited and relieved to be alive, but he knows he missed Kobalt. And Kobalt won’t give up.
Rick looks ahead. “What? Another overpass!” This underpass is jammed, like all the other underpasses, but this one has no exit ramps. There is a wire fence on his left. The center median has a steel guard rail running down the middle, so he can’t cross over to the south lanes. Abandoned cars and trucks stretch a quarter mile in front of the overpass. Rick zigzags through the mess of autos and tractor trailer rigs, winding a path through the destruction.
Kobalt races down the highway and spots the overpass ahead. Wrecked cars are scattered along the road. Kobalt navigates around the wrecks, but as the mess of autos thickens, he drives on the shoulder of the left side of the road until it is impossible to move forward.
The SUV is blocked. “Damn it,” Kobalt shouts as he pounds the steering wheel. He then laughs when he spots Munday under the overpass struggling to get his motorcycle between two cars. Kobalt steps to the roadway with his Sig Sauer at the ready.
Rick hears Kobalt’s boots on the pavement and turns to see the hulking brute. Rick dives for the asphalt rolling under a car as shots ring out. He eyes the zombie killer holstered on the bike several feet away. He’ll be dead if he tries to reach it. Rick scoots further under the car. Lying on his back, Rick calls out, “What’s your problem with me?”
Kobalt steps slowly through the maze of cars sweeping the Sig left and right scanning for a target. “You ruined it. You destroyed everything we worked for.”
Rick reaches for the dart gun holstered at his side. “Because I spoiled your secret? That's why you want to kill me? You only wanted to save yourselves, your few and fortunate; damn the rest of us. You knew the storm was coming. You could have saved millions.” He quickly rises aims and shoots two darts before shuffling down a row of cars.
A dart hits Kobalt in the forearm. He laughs as he plucks the venom pumping dart from his sleeve and tosses it to the ground. “I always wear a skin suit unlike the Black Guard of New Zion. You were smart to use them,” Kobalt shouts as he fires three rounds.
“We designed New Arcadia as an optimal society. A framework for advancing humanity after the storms,” Kobalt yells out, advancing through jammed cars.
“Arcadia, the optimal society that drugs people into compliance with every breath. A society that needs someone like you and your Black Guard to keep people in line. Sounds perfect to me!”
“You were to join us; to be one of us.” Kobalt sees Rick scurrying through the cars ahead and fires two rounds.
Rick ducks around the front of a truck running directly into the dead driver leaning against the front of his truck. Rick wrestles frightfully with the stiff corpse before he pushes the body away and keeps moving. Rick works his way around the truck, hoping to circle back to the Indian Scout and the Zombie Killer. “You kidnapped, robbed, and drugged me. What a way to make a guy feel welcome. All I ever wanted was to get home to my family. You kept me from getting to the ones I love. Not very utopian, if you ask me.”
Rick makes a mad dash running low through the cars. Kobalt sees Rick’s helmet moving and fires. The bullet grazes Rick’s helmet with enough force to whip Rick’s head sideways, sending him to the ground. Kobalt ejects the magazine from the Sig and inserts a fresh clip as he calmly strolls stalking his prey.
The Scout is ten feet away. Rick eyes the shotgun. “If I can just get the gun, I can end this; end Kobalt,” Rick says to himself. Then he shouts. “I never asked for this, but if it’s a fight, you want.” Rick stands and runs.
Kobalt fires hitting Rick in the side. The force of the round slams Rick into a car before falling to the ground. The ballistic resistive suit stopped the bullet from penetrating his body, but the suit does nothing to dampen the kinetic force. Rick rolls on the ground in agonizing pain. “You shot me!” Rick’s breaths are shallow. “That’s a broken rib for sure,” he mumbles to himself.
Kobalt moves through the cars. “If that move is you fighting back, you’d best stay down. I’ll finish you quick, then I can get back to Salvation. Don’t worry, you won’t know what hit you.”
Rick looks at the dart gun. The load indicator flashes 0,0,0. “Damn,” he says tossing the gun to the ground. He slips off his backpack and pulls out his machete. Rick uses the door handle of a car to pull himself to his knees, machete in hand. Two cars separate Kobalt and Rick. Rick pops up and throws the machete at Kobalt. The big blade cartwheels swiftly through the air heading directly for Kobalt. Kobalt reaches out with his left hand and catches the sharp blade. Blood drips from his hand.
“Looks like you’re out of options, Professor.” Kobalt tosses the machete aside. Ignoring the deep cut in his hand, he advances. “Time to be done with you,” he says aiming the Sig.
Ribbons of light alternating from yellow to green to purple looking like the Aurora Borealis glow in the sky through a tower of tumultuous burning clouds behind Kobalt.
“It’s amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it. Look behind you. Look at the sky.”
“You and your old tricks. You must have watched too much TV growing up. I’m not falling for that,” says Kobalt as he advances.
“No, I’m serious. The clouds and lights are beautiful. Unusual but beautiful,” says Rick.
Kobalt and Rick both hear a thunderous rumbling in the sky.
Kobalt forcibly points the Sig at Rick. “Stay down.” Kobalt looks over his shoulder to view the sky. “What the hell? What is it?”
"The only thing that causes a cloud structure like that is a nuclear explosion," Rick says.
Rick feels around inside his backpack. His fingers find the KA-Bar knife. He pulls the knife from the backpack and slips the blade from its sheath. Hundreds of fireballs fly out of the fiery cloud streaking in all directions. Kobalt turns to face Rick as the KA-Bar knife flies.
"Nuclear? Why would they—?” Kobalt asks as the knife punctures his left eye, the blade driving deep into his skull. Kobalt screams and staggers as he tries to extract the knife.
Rick spots a cluster of fireballs heading toward the overpass. Rick uses the calculus in his mind to estimate the trajectory. He moves quickly, ignoring the pain in his side. He jumps over a cement barricade at the shoulder of the road and scrambles up under the overpass.
Kobalt uses his bloody hand to pull the long knife from his eye socket. Blood gushes from the empty black pit as Kobalt screams holding the knife above his head, firing the Sig recklessly.
“Damn you, Munday. I’m coming for you.”
A volley of meteor fragments pepper the cars breaking glass and punching holes through aluminum and steel. A soccer ball sized rock blasts through Kobalt’s lower back. Rick can see daylight through the gaping hole in the belly of the big man. Kobalt steps forward haltingly dropping the KA-Bar knife. The knife clinks on the pavement as Kobalt tries to scream. A deep, airy bellow echoes through the overpass. His knees buckle, and the big man falls to the pavement. There is no movement or sound from Kobalt, but Rick waits before moving from the protection of the overpass.
Rick stands over the bloody mess of the man who hunted him across a continent. “All I ever wanted was to get home to my family. You should have stayed at Salvation. Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?”
Rick looks to the sky. Clouds churn with glowing bands of light radiating from the eruption in the sky. Rick thinks out loud. “Maybe if there was a large meteor, a city killer or worse, the government might try to blow it up with a nuke.” Rick walks to the Indian Scout. "That doesn't explain the timing. It's too early in the day. Maybe this storm isn't following the rules.”
Rick struggles to push the bike through a narrow gap between two cars. He turns the handlebars and gives the Scout a hard push. Finally, the bike moves forward. "If these oids aren’t following the rules. I really need to get moving.” Rick kick starts the Scout and rides down the highway.
