Riding The Apocalypse Read Online Free PDF Page B

man.”
     
    I loaded up my Kawasaki KLR650 motorcycle with both side bags and attached an additional bag atop the metal gas tank via magnets. I had grabbed and packed as many supplies as I possibly could in the short time since Emily left me.
    Bad choice of words.
    Thankfully, my commuter motorcycle was a dual sport. The KLR was street legal, but could handle the off-road equally well. I hated to leave behind the KLR’s stablemate, a lightning-fast BMW S1000R, but the BMW was less practical if I needed to divert off the main roads. With the correct rider, the KLR could go just about anywhere. I wasn’t necessarily the best rider, but I was more than capable when a spirited ride was appropriate. I am no Buell on a motorcycle, but then, who is?
    I pushed the engine start button, and she revved to life. I must confess to feeling a thrill of excitement here. She has never let me down, and I felt confident in my decision to bring the KLR to the garage. I call my motorcycles “she” or “her,” even though they are not like most women I know. She never leaves, she doesn’t ask me to see sappy movies and doesn’t mind if I sit on her and fart. Helmet, gloves, jacket, and out my garage I went. I was careful to peek back and make sure the electric garage door closed behind me. I took the freeway hoping I could lane split between the traffic. No such luck, the cars were jammed too tightly and constantly changing lanes.
    Where was everyone going?
    Now it was my turn to have a first encounter with the monsters, but it was not as modest as Emily’s. I saw at least a hundred of the creatures methodically marching down the on-ramp from Saratoga Avenue. Where did they all come from so fast? I watched the undead break through a blockade of military vehicles at the top of the ramp and march toward the jam-packed freeway, clogged with slow-moving traffic. I was in a state of disbelief, it looked so surreal. I mean, fucking seriously?
    My first thought was to hit the brakes. The same reaction I would have if I spotted a highway patrol officer on the side of the road sporting a radar gun. There was no reason to make drastic movements though, as the monsters were moving unusually slowly. I later learned this was their normal pace. The monsters soldiered on at slow walking speed, almost a mosey.
    Attempting a shortcut, some of the monsters fell off the overpass directly onto the hoods and roofs of the cars below. The cracks from the bodies crashing down on the vehicles were loud enough to penetrate my insulated helmet and freak me out even more. One of the monsters folded like a taco as it came crashing down from the overpass to land squarely atop a roll bar mounted on a pickup truck. In spite of its obvious trauma, the beast still tried reaching into the window of the cab with its last working appendage. The rain of undead caused doors to fly open as people were spurred to flee on foot, causing more traffic and chaos.
    I watched in horror as the first monsters exited the ramp and reached the cars to their right. Simultaneously, the cars began moving in short jerking movements, often hitting one another and further snarling the situation. The scene resembled a giant bumper car ring, but much louder. I watched one man vacate his car only to be crushed between his rear bumper and another small car. The suddenly pinned man instantly became a beacon to the encroaching attackers, as his bloodcurdling screams drew attention to his position. I noted the monsters seemed able to triangulate sound well, and made quick work of reaching the immobilized target. Deciding to move, I exited to my left and rode against the center divider. As I made my cautious way past the gridlock, I glanced back at the pinned man, and saw a large male monster grab his right arm and pull it toward his already bloodstained teeth. The beast’s skin was pale white, eyes pitch black, and his muscles bulged as he ripped at the victim’s arm. I cringed as I saw the pinned