(http://www.zen90682.zen.co.uk/johndmini.jpg)<table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><strong> <span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">John Donnelan</span></strong></td></tr><tr><td><strong>Location:</strong> </td><td>Outskirts of Wellington, Looking to not have to draw down on runners pursing due to being alerted by distant car</td></tr><tr><td><strong>With:</strong> </td><td> Meeting Lilly, Olivia, Marcus and Desi</td></tr></tbody></table><br/><hr/><br/>John glanced over his shoulder as he came to a section of straight, runners. He hated runners. They were gaining a little, interesting, still, he had reserves left and once he crested the rise up ahead he should be a lot better off than they were. Of course they wouldn't tire as easily, yet he had wheels. Wheels tended to beat feet.<br/><br/>Plus, if he needed it he had his PPK of course.<br/><br/>Then he noticed the car was a lot louder now, another quick glance when he had a clear stretch, they were coming right for him. Wonderful, this could be one of two things, very good or very bad. Though they were silly enough to be wandering around in a car... Still it would be nice to see, and talk, to other people again, he had only had himself to talk to, albeit mostly inside his own noggin, for at least three too many days now. True, he had passed escape and evasion training in Wales all those years ago, yet that was a rather more pleasant experience. Especially since, while the paras that had been tasked with playing the pursuing force had dogs, helo's, night viewing aids, brains that weren't working nearly on auto-pilot, well, okay, that one yes, they were paras, but still they were a step up the ladder from these virused folks. He had a point, what was it? Oh, right, especially since the paras were not going to eat him if they caught him. Just fill him in a bit on the good news with boots and then haul him back to some army base for the interrogation phase.<br/><br/>These guys were not about to interrogate. These guys were all about beating him to death and eating his intestines.<br/><br/>Not necessarily in that order.<br/><br/>The car drew up next to him and drew him, he took the opportunity given to check out the occupants, one guy four women, the driver in a cop outfit, sever looking face, older... She started speaking.<br/><br/><em>“Hey, friend! We’re friendly! Friendlies! Keep going! We’ll stop up ahead and take out the zeds. Stop behind my car.”</em><br/><br/>Well that was more positive then a side-swipe and them trying to steal his gear, which he had been half expecting, law of the jungle and all that.<br/><br/>He nodded, and kept pedalling, till they pulled off this manoeuvre there wasn't much else to do.<br/><br/>About a hundred yards of so further on, just at the crest of the rise they pulled up and stopped side on, the older pinched face lady and the guy jumped out with handguns. Handguns. If they were sensible they would take their time and wait a good while before opening up with those. If they weren't... Well, it wasn't likely, they had survived this long, even if they were making so much bloody noise you could likely hear them one county over.<br/><br/>John kept pedalling furiously, his upper thighs and arse muscles were starting to complain now due to all the uphill stuff. He made a mental note to berate himself for not giving up the tabs sooner, he had only dropped the ciggies four years back and it was still something he regretting being a party to for so long. He had mostly recovered in that time, but there was still some residual effects to even the pack of fags every three or four days at most that he had been on.<br/><br/>He started to flare his speed as he came up to the car, hit the brakes just next to it and just past it, dropped the bike and, glancing around in every direction but behind, drew his PPK and checked out the road ahead, the houses to the right and the field to the left. The houses were the primary concern yet he couldn't stop watching the rest. Once the shooting started, which would likely be any second, someone had to be aware of the directions other than those of the main firing line.<br/><br/>"Clear to the rear, left and right. Covering here, call if you need help." He reported to, well, whoever these people were. If he was going to receive a bullet in the back this was where it would come. He felt he skin crawl. He didn't know these people yet he was choosing to trust them on instinct. Still, if you didn't have fair instincts you wouldn't survive low level flight training. To be fair you would likely just find yourself being posted elsewhere, suddenly be assigned on Hercules or some other more boring duty. This was a whole other level of alertness and tension.<br/><br/>He had flown missions over the gulf which had a similar feel, he just had to relax and watch the directions he had taken, if the other two needed him they would call out. If they had any sense.