Go-Go Girls of the Apocalypse by Victor Gischler

Author:Victor Gischler [Gischler, Victor]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Adventure
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

XXVI

Halfway back to camp, Mortimer made himself slow down. He wouldn’t be able to help anyone if he ran straight into a trap. He moved as quickly as he could while remaining quiet.

At the edge of the camp, he crouched low. He saw bodies moving through the low-hanging pine boughs. He scooted around, trying to get a better look. Two men, no, three, standing near Sheila. One had her by the shirt lapel. She was trying to pull away. The men laughed.

“Doing some camping, sweetheart?” asked the one holding her.

“Fuck off.”

That made him laugh more.

“Who’s here with you?” asked one of the other ones.

“Just me, asshole.”

“She’s got a mouth on her,” the third one said.

“She’s got a sweet little caboose on her.” The one who held her pulled her closer, dropped his rifle so he could grope.

Sheila aimed a kick at his groin. He turned and took it on the thigh, grunted.

The other two men laughed at him. Mortimer saw the armbands. Red Stripes. He tensed to spring out at them, but what could he do? All three carried rifles. Mortimer could see his shotgun leaning against his Nike bag on the other side of the campfire.

“Stupid cunt.” He yanked at her shirt and it ripped, the buttons popping halfway down. Sheila gasped, fear blooming in her eyes, no trace of defiance anymore. He yanked again and the shirt ripped open. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and her breasts sprang out, immediately goose-pimpled in the cold air. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back, her mouth gaping open, a scream caught in her throat.

Three of them. Mortimer couldn’t take three. Not barehanded.

The bushes rustled on the other side of the camp, and Bill bumbled through, buckling his belt. “I thought I heard-oh, hell.”

The third Red Stripe swung his rifle, aimed it at Bill. The tip of the barrel was a foot from Bill’s nose. “Hey, man! Hold it right there.”

Bill froze, eyes big.

Sheila dropped to one knee, grabbed the coffeepot off the campfire.

The guy holding her looked down to see what she was doing, and she splashed it all. The scalding coffee hit his eyes and he dropped her, screaming. Falling to the ground, pawing at the bright red flesh of his scorched face.

Mortimer was already out of his hiding place and running toward them. He threw himself on one Red Stripe, pinned his arms so the guy couldn’t bring his rifle up. The one near Bill turned, aimed at Mortimer. Mortimer saw what was happening and turned his captive toward the Red Stripe firing at him. The rifle barked, and Mortimer felt the man in his arms twitch and die, a bloody hole in his chest. He dropped him, turned toward the man with the coffee eyes, who was already on his feet again.

Bill jumped the Red Stripe near him. They wrestled, went down.

Mortimer advanced on coffee eyes, but the Red Stripe pulled a revolver from his belt, brought it up toward Mortimer, who flinched back.

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