The day after: An apocalyptic morning Read Online Free Page B

only had his pistol and his shots were nothing to be concerned about from sixty yards, but the other biker was firing short, controlled bursts from the M-16. Bullets began to slam into the mud and the trees around him, sending little sprays of water, bark, and dirt flying through the air. Skip knew instantly, by the way the man was firing his weapon, that he had military experience. A novice would not have shot a rifle that way.
                  He slid down the hill about ten feet and crawled quickly to the left, hoping to catch them on the right flank before it occurred to them to turn their attention back to the family they were tormenting. Above him bullets continued to whiz by in groups of three and four, smacking the trees or flying off into space. He found another tree that overlooked the ground below and inched on his belly up to it, his body coursing with adrenaline, the rifle dragging behind him.
                  When he reached his new position he poked his head out a little and trained the barrel of his rifle down over the scene, looking first and foremost for the biker with the M-16. He saw him immediately. He was in a crouch, moving right to left towards a stand of trees that would provide him with relative cover. Yes, Skip thought, this man, despite the fact that he had not reacted to the first shot, knew what he was doing.
                  Intending to snap off a shot at him before he reached the tree line, Skip took a quick glance at the rest of the players before he did so, just to make sure that they were all where he thought they were. The two women that had come with the bikers were nowhere to be seen, apparently smart enough to run off into the woods once the shooting started. The leader of the group was crouched behind a rock, having taken the time to pull his pants back up into the combat position. He was reloading his pistol with a fresh magazine he had pulled from his pocket. The young boy was cowering where he had last been, as was the young girl. But the mother, that was another story.
                  "Oh shit," Skip muttered, seeing what she was doing, knowing he was helpless to prevent it.
                  She had decided to take a little initiative in the gun battle by creeping forward and pulling one of the M-16s from Ricky's body. Crouching next to the former biker and obviously having never fired a rifle in her life, she socked the weapon into her shoulder and took aim at the leader just as he made a sprint towards the tree line where the other biker had gone.
                  She pulled the trigger and unleashed the entire clip at him. It took about four seconds to fire all thirty rounds. The barrel of the gun jerked upward in her arms and at least twenty of the rounds flew harmlessly into the air above. But the first five or six rounds cut the leader's legs out from beneath him as he ran. He dropped sprawling to the ground, his pistol flying out before him, his body landing facedown in the mud and sliding about ten feet.
                  This immediately drew the fire of the biker with the M-16. He stopped in his tracks and trained his weapon on the woman, firing a three-round burst directly into her chest. The rifle dropped from her hands and she clutched her chest, falling forward over the body of Ricky.
                  "Momma!" screamed her kids simultaneously, their voices filled with fresh horror.
                  The biker ignored them. So did Skip. He only had a second or two before his target started running for the tree line again. He sighted in on him until his torso was the only thing in the crosshairs. With a smooth tug of the trigger, the bullet was fired through his body, a good portion of his internal organs spraying out behind him with the exiting projectile. The M-16 clattered to the mud and a moment later, he joined it, dropping face down.
                  Skip