Foster got off a few rounds and missed. The truck was going too fast. He walked his fire forward, guided by the tracers. The truck pulled up alongside the Humvee’s right and slowed. Lee saw naked, self-mutilated men swarming across the truck bed, clashing crowbars and golf clubs against the battered chassis. One of crazies threw a colorful object that struck the rear of the Humvee. Water balloon. Lee smelled piss. Infected piss. Others lobbed grappling hooks like pirates. One hooked onto Lee’s window. Its connecting chain pulled taut. A man tried to jump onto the Humvee but missed and became road kill. A baseball struck Lee in the chest. He grit his teeth against the flash of pain and the stars that sparked in his vision. A man was about to throw a bright yellow water balloon straight at him. He sprayed the back of the truck on full auto, draining the magazine in seconds. Laughing bodies spilled and smashed against the asphalt rushing under their feet. As his rifle clicked empty, Lee pulled out his 9mm and unloaded it into the driver’s cabin.
Foster found his mark. He lit up the truck back to front with a deadly metal rain. The vehicle crumpled like tin foil, riddled with smoking holes. The figures capering along the truck bed exploded. The windshield burst with a splash of glass. The truck disintegrated.
The Humvee door wrenched off with a crack as the shattered truck spilled off the highway. Lee blinked into the darkness. He sighed. “Jesus Christ.”
–from THE RETREAT by Craig DiLouie, Joe McKinney and Stephen Knight