Last week on Freeway Fighter...
For part 1, click here
The last episode saw our intrepid non-hero (who seems to be a painfully real version of me channelling Alan Partridge mostly) tasked with driving across a post-apocalyptic wasteland full of marauders in order to collect a fuel tanker from a distant city. Thankfully they'd given me a heavily weaponised Dodge Interceptor. Basically, the plot to Mad Max. However I have no driving licence - never mind insurance. And come to think of it, I don't remember the town council that sent me on this mad task even giving me a map... All sounds promising doesn't it.
So far on my quest for petroleum distillate, I have met a cyclist looking to loot some abandoned shops. It didn't get off to the best of starts as he waved a shotgun around at me when I went to say hello. But then I imagine you would be a bit tetchy if your only means of transport through the apocalypse was a bicycle. He warned me not to stop at a nearby petrol station as I would be robbed (just like a modern British petrol station then - ooh satire), I followed his advice and drove on despite the allures of the gasoline siren beckoning me onto the forecourt.
The story continues...
Starts on page 167 for those reading along at home
I was back on the road again after a close call at Joe's Garage (if our cyclist friend was to be believed - maybe the woman really did like me. Maybe). Either way, I treated myself to a fresh Mint Imperial from the glove box, and popped a new mix tape onto the radio
Even driving through a desolate wasteland I had a quick look around to make sure nobody could see me singing, I mean that would be embarrassing. I put my foot to the floor and watch the needle go up to 190km/h (118mph in proper), "...you had a temper, like my jealousy; too hot, too gree --"
Cook a cat. There's someone following me and matching my speed. In a red Chevvy, not on foot - that really would be cause for concern. I have a sneaking suspicion that he doesn't want to overtake. Mostly because his mate is leaning out of the top and pointing an M16A1 at me.
|Gah, my armour is down from 35 to 34...|
It's times like this that make think I should have worked out what all of the buttons in the car did. A short burst of 5.56 rounds hit the tarmac beside me as I fumble for the turret-mounted machine gun. As the rear windscreen wipers wave furiously at my pursuer I realise that this might not quite cut the mustard. Unperturbed, the red chevvy continues his pursuit. After hitting the hazard lights, I finally manage to get the computerised turret to whir into life and two of the bursts find their target which swerves off course slightly.
But it was too early to start celebrating just yet. The machine gunner is leaning out of the red chevvy again. This time the burst of fire rakes the side of my car, making a right mess of the paintwork. Another burst from my computerised turret hits my would-be-attacker's tyres and I watch through the rear view mirror as he careens across the road, rolls over a couple of times and then vanishes in an improbably large explosion. So that's how it's done.
Now on to page 188
I turn the car around (after decelerating first, I'm not a maniac) to inspect the wreckage of my attackers. Why on earth would somebody attack me unprovoked? Who were these jokers? Given the state of the car, there weren't really any clues as to their identity. I decide to drive on.
|New Hope's Council Leader, Sinclair, off to the shops...|
Just as I was about to put some more tunes on, the radio burst in to life of it's own accord. It's one of the Council leaders from my hometown of New Hope, the one's that sent me on this road trip through the apocalypse. Nice of them to check up on me at last. She tells me that the town has been attacked by a gang of bikers. Eight people have been killed and they've kidnapped the Council leader, Sinclair. Poor sod. She warns me to be on my guard, I thank her and say goodbye.
I ignore the looming Plot, and continue my journey down the freeway. Looking around I was reminded of the I-Spy books you got as a kid, to keep you occupied and stop you from saying "are we nearly there yet." You could do one of those now: burnt out car (one of these was down to me), boarded up shack, wandering dogs, an old swing, abandoned fridges... hours of fun.
Ah bugger. Apparently during the Disaster there had been a tail back further down this road I'm driving along, as I soon discover when I pull up behind it. There's definitely no chance that this will ever move, unlike most traffic jams which just feel that way. There's no way through so I turn round and look for another way around. As I exit the highway, I notice the fuel gauge has started to drop, luckily I was sensible enough to pack a jerry can full of petrol. Sat at the junction of the road that passes beneath the highway I'm faced with a dilemma. Which way do I go?
|Hmm, something's off here...|
Tune in next time to find out!