Week 27: The Bridge and the Handoff – Part Two

After the explosion we stopped at the end of the bridge.  From that distance all I could see was a smoking mess.  I had to know if Mike was alive or dead. 

So we drove back out to the wreckage.  About fifty yards from it I stopped the bike and we got off.  I told Brenda to wait there and rest while I checked things out.
 
Now with a closer view I surveyed the aftermath.  The Dead Dozer was just a mangled metal shell with smoke and flames still pouring from its core.  About twenty feet behind it was Mike’s rig.  The front engine compartment was blown back with metal curling away from the center like an exploded cigar.  The cab itself was actually in pretty good shape although all the windows were blown out and there were bits of shrapnel embedded in it here and there.

Slumped over the steering wheel I saw Mike.  I drew my gun and kept it pointed at his head.  I wasn’t going to take any chances.

“Get the fuck up, I know you’re alright,” I shouted.  He didn’t move.  “I’m not joking, get up or I’ll shoot you.”  Still no reaction.

I walked around to the side and fired a shot into the door.  Mike flinched, then he raised his head.  With a slow chuckle he said, “Damn boy, you are too smart for me.  I guess you got the bull by the horns.  Now what you going to do with it?”

I told him to get out of the truck, real slow.  He opened the driver’s side door then hopped down to the ground.  Before I knew it he had a gun raised pointed at me.  Meanwhile I still had my gun aimed right at him.

So at that point I should have just shot him.  I knew I needed to shoot him.  I wanted to shoot him.  Problem was I didn’t know where Matthew was and Mike did.  My mind was racing, could we work this out, he hasn’t shot me yet, maybe I can take him hostage, maybe I should just shoot him.

Mike was the first one to speak.  “Damn boy, you gonna shit or get off the pot?  If you hate me as much as I hate you, then why don’t you just shoot me.  I mean, I know why I’m not shooting you, I’m saving you for the zombies, but… well now that I think about it I guess that just means I can’t shoot you in the head, but your leg, now that’s another story.”

BAM! The fucker shot me right in the thigh.  I fired once, blindly, before my gun dropped from my hand.

“Now that’s the spirit.  Too bad you missed.  Now, let’s see where else I can shoot you without killing you…”

That was when Brenda stepped in.
 
Apparently she had retrieved the bat from what was left of the Dead Dozer.  Her first swing sent Mike’s gun flying through the air.  The second one came crashing down on Mike’s head.  The third caught him in the ribs and the fourth across the back.  Each hit knocked Mike backwards toward the edge of the bridge.  When he reached the railing he half fell, half jumped over out of desperation. 

“That’ll teach him,” she said as Mike splashed into the water below.

Despite my wounded leg I scrambled to the edge and looked over.  Nothing.  He was gone.