Pickers 4: The Pick by Garth Owen Read Free Book Online

tank and the rider's thigh and gun arm. The rider jerked the handlebars around, the front wheel dug in, and he was catapulted off. Georges pulled himself back up and clambered across to the other side of the trailer. There was only the buggy to be seen here. When he made it back to the spine, he went back into the crouched position.
    They were passing the Raiders that Fabien had been firing on. There was the remains of a camp, with a car on fire, a number of bodies scattered around, and yet more motorbikes starting up and milling about. Georges spotted a bunch of them, with sidecars. The passengers held grappling hooks and other boarding gear. He aimed just above them, and moved his trigger finger forward.
    The grenade launcher made an odd pop as it fired. Georges could just see the dot of the projectile as it arced toward the assembled bikers. It exploded just in front of them, peppering the riders with shrapnel. Sarah spotted the explosion, and brought her gun around to fire in the same direction.
    Suddenly, it was over. They had rolled past the small camp, and there were no more vehicles following them. It was quiet again, but for the wind and road noise.
    "Everyone check in. Front to back." Remy's voice said in Georges' ear.
    "I am okay. The buggy is still running." Justine said.
    "Cab gun. All fine." Fabien.
    "Front guns. I had a jam, but I cleared it." Sarah.
    Georges had stood, and was staring ahead. They were running downhill again, and the valley most of the way to the town was in view. There were half a dozen other small camps scattered around, and a smoky haze over the town itself that hinted at lots of fires and cookers. "Trailer roof. I'm good." he said, quietly.
    "Rear gun. All good. But I can't get them when they get too close." Maxine said.
    "I've got the sides covered." Georges said, heading back to stand behind the rear cupola.
    "Okay. We have more of the same coming. We don't have to kill them all, just out run them. So the closest ones are the targets of choice. Hold tight, we are speeding up." Remy said.
    There was a moment's shuddering, as the wheels on the trailer started getting power and the motors raced to get up to speed. Then the extra traction kicked in and, strangely, the truck felt more stable.

* * *
    Veronique jumped when the little hand tugged at her sleeve. When she looked down, she just managed to bite off the expletive that had nearly been on her lips.
    Luke reached up, wanting to be lifted onto her knee. He'd had his fun hiding, now, he wanted to see what was going on. Tony looked over at the movement, and wasn't as good at controlling his language. "Shit. How did he get here? I thought we left him in town."
    "He does love hiding. And we were rushing around. I guess we didn't check everything."
    "Is something wrong down there?" Myriam's voice came over the intercom.
    "You could say so. We've got a stowaway." Tony replied.
    "Stow.... Your little one's along for the ride?"
    "He is."
    "Well, I bet you have a nice bullet proof cubby he can go in if things get crazy. But that shouldn't be a problem. The whole point of bringing me and my gun along was to do damage at a distance. I was hoping to stay out of any craziness anyway." Myriam sounded a lot calmer than either Veronique or Tony felt about the child's presence.
    "Travelling Base, Travelling Base? This is Lookout Point. We have movement heading our way. But it's from Northwest, not Northeast. Over" came a voice over the radio.
    "Northwest?" Veronique draped Luke over her shoulder, and he giggled. She carried him over to the map table and checked roads. "I don't see any way they could be coming from the Northwest. And not this soon, either."
    "Lookout Point, this is Travelling Base. Can you give us a vehicle count Lookout Point? Over." Tony said into the radio mic.
    "Lots of dust. But there's one lorry. Not a truck, a lorry, not articulated. Maybe a tanker. And a couple of vans, and lots of motorcycles. They're all Raiders. Over."
    "We copy