The man on his knees being scolded for peeing on the floor.
He was blindingly fast and whipped the chain towards Jessie’s face, causing him to throw up an arm to keep his eyes from being lashed out. He missed the swing with his blades and the man rolled away from a savage kick aimed at his dangling privates. Jessie dodged a lamp slung at him from the nightstand and dove for him again as the man scrambled for a pistol hanging on the bed post. They moved at lightning speed, the hand reaching for the gun came up short as six inches of sharpened surgical steel impaled it to the wall. Jessie followed through, driving his shoulder into a muscled ribcage. They smashed through the drywall with a grunt, sheetrock exploding in a cloud of dust and two by fours splintering like twigs. He twisted out of Jessies grip again, sprang towards the door but flew off his feet when Jessie grabbed the trailing chain and yanked with all his might, trying to pop the man’s head off. Before he slammed to the carpet, Jessie was already following through with an overhead drive of his other knife. He caught his head as it bounced and drove it right back down, blade through the skull, pinning it to the floor.
They heard the sounds of the men in the adjoining rooms throwing on clothes and Jessie pulled his guns. Stealth time was over. He sent a dozen rounds through the wall, fire spitting from each pistol, at where he heard the zipping of pants and the rustling of a gun belt then ran for the hallway to meet the others. Scarlet was slamming her batons at one of them, forcing him back through a doorway. He was blocking the blows with his arms and every time she hit, a bone broke in a different place. Jessie spun, bringing his guns up for the last of the Lieutenants but the mostly naked man with the bondage gear was pumping round after round into him from the bed side gun. Jessie nodded to the barkeep, the one he’d met so many months ago and pretended not to notice what he was wearing.
“Mr. Carter.” he said by way of greeting as Scarlet came back out into the hall, flicking blood from her batons.
“Ah, so you two know each other?” Scarlet asked, a hint of laughter in her voice. She’d come a hairs breadth from snapping his neck before Jessies warning had saved him.
The barkeep looked embarrassed and started to say something but Jessie interrupted.
“Timothy, there’s a whole bunch more that’ll be coming up the stairs in a few minutes. If you’ve got clothes, now would be the time to get them on.”
The man nodded and disappeared as Jessie swapped half spent hollow point mags for full ones, his fingers flying, doing the task without thought. He slapped in his close combat magazines and felt a little sorry for Carter. Sometimes you had to do whatever it took to stay alive. He grinned at Scarlet and whispered so only she could hear.
“I bet we get free dinners here forever as long as we keep his secret.”
She giggled then cocked her head.
“Both ends.” she said and pointed to the stairs.
Jessie heard it too, blew her a kiss and sprinted for the door. They fought differently but each was no less deadly than the other. The men barging up the steps weren’t super human. They were ordinary men moving at ordinary speeds. They were fanatical and devoted and would lay down their lives for the cause and the two teenagers would help them along in that endeavor. Jessie with lead, Scarlet with steel.
She burst through the door and dashed down the stairs. By the time their flashlights caught glimpses of her in the inky darkness, she was swinging with enough force to decapitate, each nearly invisible strike a killing blow. She dove into them, sending them tumbling and falling, her fists impossible to see, the sounds of breaking bones impossible to ignore. Lightning fast, the whistle of steel flying through the air could be heard over the crunches and snaps of flesh and bone being battered. It was loud in the stifling black and men heard the whisper of metal death over the screams of pain and shouts of fear. Flashlights clattered and bounced sending strobing light beams dancing on the walls, ceiling and floor. Bodies flew over the railing, tumbled and ricocheted all the way down as Scarlet plowed through them, leaving dying men in her wake. Her catlike eyes took in everything: saw their wide panicked stares, their urgent search for a target. They only caught glimpses of black on black, ink on a shadow, before they heard the onrushing sound of their doom: The swish of leather and the hush of steel before it snapped their neck or cleaved their skull. Dying men pulled triggers, bullets zinged and sprayed chunks of brick and mortar. Whizzing lead plinked off metal railings or found soft flesh but Scarlet never slowed her descent. Staying near the wall, she killed and shoved all the way to the ground. All the way down to the stack of bodies piled up that had been tossed over the rails. A few broken men moaned at the agony of splintered bones but she ignored them and sprinted to the other end of the building to help Jessie.
Jessie hit the fire door running, saw the cluster of flashlights hurrying up the stairs and opened fire. Ripper rounds sent gouts of blood and chunks of vital organs splashing from numerous holes in the soft flesh. Fire from his two-fisted guns showed terrified faces, wide, white eyes and technicolor sprays of blood painting the walls. He ran straight at them, grim determination on his face. Hit ‘em hard and hit ‘em fast. Don’t give them even a second to think about how their plan of attack was suddenly fubared. Don’t give them time to regroup or even have a clear thought. Instill fear and panic and cut them down. A few tried to fire up the stairwell but they had to be careful not to hit any of their own. Jessie didn’t have any such concerns. Both barrels spit death and when the mags were empty, they dropped to the piles of blood-soaked bodies and the next set of mags slammed home. Wadcutters sent men flying with caved in chests, dangling arms and disintegrated faces. Brains and lungs decorated the steps and he bounded down to meet them. Screams of terror echoed through the stairwell, nearly as deafening as the thunder of the guns. He was twitch shooting, nearly as fast as a machine gun and every round found a home. Every flashlight was shot. Every voice was silenced. Every muzzle flash ended abruptly with hands blown away and belly’s blown open. Jessie never slowed, never stopped to double check death. He trusted his guns; his hands knew the ways of war. Anyone left alive when he hit the bottom door would be dead in minutes when the last of their blood spurted out from the gaping holes.
He saw Scarlet burst from the door at the other end of the hall and he slowed. They met in the middle at the main casino lobby and saw the drinks half finished at the table, an ashtray with a cigarette still smoking. The door to one of the conference rooms stood open and there were dozens of mattresses spread out. The makeshift barracks for the warriors. The other room still had the chain through the handles, the key dangling in the padlock. Quiet sounds of people dying could be heard from either end of the building and unsure sounds of people hiding could be heard from the conference room. Jessie unlocked the chain, let it slide through the handles and clatter to the floor then left it. He walked over behind the bar, pulled down a couple of glasses then started looking for something to fill them with. The Anubis warriors had extension cords running from the generator and a dozen lamps lit the room filling it with too much light. It looked better the last time he was here with the kerosene lamps and candles.
Scarlet found a few bar towels and started wiping the blood spray from her clothes and the black soot from her face. They were both calm on the outside but killing real people was never easy. It wasn’t like killing the zombies. Those things were barely human anymore, they looked like mummies dressed in rags. Real people died easier too. It only took a single bullet in the belly to take them out. A zombie wouldn’t even register a gut shot, they’d shake if off like it was no more bother than a bug bite.
“Say when.” Jessie said and started pouring Captain Morgan into a mason jar.
She said nothing, so he topped it off then dropped a straw in so she could sip without spilling. They heard the doors squeak and a dirty face peeked out. There were whispers and they heard “Road Angel” being repeated. After a moment, they opened and the people shuffled into the room, squinting against the light. There w
ere a lot of them Jessie noted with satisfaction. Mostly women and some kids but quite a few men, too. Enough to keep the town going.
“Where’s them other assholes?” one of the men asked with bravado in his voice as he picked up the chain and wrapped it around his fist.
“Dead or dying.” Jessie said. “Most are in the stairwells.”
“The leaders are on top floor.” Scarlet added. “They are also dead.”
There were sighs and sobs of relief as Jessie tried to clean some of the back splashed blood from his clothes and a man leaning heavily on an Indian woman limped over to the bar. It was the radioman with a hastily splinted broken leg. Even though he’d surrendered, they’d nearly killed him. Jessie recognized him from his last visit and poured him a tall glass of the Captain.
“As soon as you can, get on the radio and let all the other settlements know how they fight. How they use the undead as a distraction.” Jessie said
The base station with the tall antenna that he used had a lot more range than the mobile radio in the car. He would be able to reach everyone.
“I’ll get right on it.” he said and downed the glass in a few gulps.
There wasn’t an atmosphere of celebration in the air, just one of gritty sadness. They had lost many of their best men. Husbands, brothers and sons had been gunned down from behind while defending the town.
“We can never repay you.” Carter said as he joined them, the bondage leather replaced with blue jeans and a flannel shirt “but anything you want at my bar will always be on the house.”
He gave them both a long look, one that implored them not to ask questions or talk about what they’d seen.
“Appreciate it.” Jessie said and gave him a small nod.
The barkeep took his place behind the counter and started lining up shots for everyone.
“I’ll start some breakfast.” One of the women said and a few made their way through the batwing doors to the kitchen.
Dawn would be coming soon. The town had their dead to bury and some healing to do and the two teenagers were outsiders. They didn’t mourn because they hadn’t lost anyone close. Jessie and Scarlet slipped away and made their way to the wall and the Mercury. The war had started and they had miles to go before they could sleep.
16
Anubis Headquarters
Some of the groups had been on the move for weeks in route to Cascade or the Hutterites or even Lakota. The high priest of the armies had turned them all towards Tombstone. He was losing the confidence of the Lord of the Underworld. He’d had too many defeats, not enough successes. His team sent to reconquer the Island was being repulsed, the undead shredded with rocket propelled grenades and withering machine gun fire. They had fought to a stalemate and his warriors had to retreat to gather more undead. Blackfoot had fallen and he had bragged about his methods but within hours, it had been retaken by the rebellious scum. Anselmo was a ghost town when his soldiers arrived. Abandoned and empty. A hollow victory.
Now everything he had schemed and achieved, his tenuous position as Chief of the Armies, his future appointment to even greater glory, was riding on the conquering of Tombstone. He had to take it and hold it and he spared no resources. He sent reinforcements that had been guarding their Headquarters, he rerouted his teams meant to conquer other towns and he ignored that insufferable bore Ricketts when he suggested caution should be taken. Perhaps you should send a few scouts to see if there were anything unexpected ahead of them.
“And perhaps you shouldn’t be such a coward.” he had replied.
He knew what he was doing. He didn’t need unsolicited advice. He didn’t need slow, plodding caution. The winter snows would catch them if he didn’t hurry and the undead army would be useless. Any fool knew that and Ricketts just wanted him to fail. He wanted to be the one to say “I told you so.” It wouldn’t work, though. He’d crush Tombstone, their most powerful city besides Lakota, and the rest would fall in line. They hadn’t realized resistance was futile but they would.
He tried to relax and clear his mind as the girls and boys sponge bathed him in warm, bubbly champagne and massaging fingers kneaded his blubbery muscles with fragrant oils. He was face down on the pleasure table and soft hands stroked him from below through the hole cut out where his manhood hung down. His ploy would work. It had to. He needed to be elevated because who knew what was in the next pleasure room. His imagination hadn’t prepared him for this one, it was beyond belief, beyond anything he’d ever experienced or heard about anyone experiencing. He had to advance to the next rank, had to find out what was in the next room. Tombstone would fall and he had a new foolproof plan for the attack on Lakota: he’d have survivors from Tombstone in front of the horde and running for the gates. They would open them wide to let them in and his men would be among them. He would be able to present Lakota to the Lord of the Underworld in another month.
He sighed with pleasure as the many hands bathed, massaged and stroked.
Ricketts couldn’t let the army be destroyed, no matter how much he wanted Charles to fail. His loyalty was to Anubis. He knew what was waiting for the warriors in Tombstone, he listened to the chatter on the radios. He made the call, warned the commanders what they would be facing and told them how to defeat a well-prepared enemy. It was for the greater good and besides, he would ensure that they informed the Lord of the Underworld that it had been him who had delivered the cities. Him who had given them critical information. Him who had defeated the enemy.
17
Tombstone
They were coming. They must have been gathering them for weeks, leading them in their untiring march towards the walls. The undead army of ten thousand was slowly converging on Tombstone. They were stumbling in from all directions, led by a score of slow moving, black clad super soldier convoys from all points of the compass. Those who had fled Anselmo, those who had survived the harrowing cat and mouse game of getting past the hordes and avoiding the machine gun fire from the Cult, told of immense spread out mobs slowly coming down the roads.
“It’s too late to get out now, even if we wanted to.” Hot Rod told mayor Tackett. “There must have been a thousand zed’s chasing the trucks and the gunners leading the horde fired a few hundred rounds at us. If they wanted us, they could have chased us down but they seemed content to let us get away with a warning. They knew where we were going. Maybe they wanted me to talk you into surrendering. Let you know you were surrounded.”
“We know how they operate.” Tackett said around his cigar. “Blackfoot told us they’re sneaky bastards who’ll shoot you in the back. There’ll be no surrender.”
The town was busy, people hustling here and there, strands of concertina wire being triple strung on top of the wall, weak points between train cars being doubly reinforced and ammo being distributed all along the walkways. If men had to move fast to defend a different section, they wouldn’t have to carry crates of bullets with them. Sharpshooters with deer rifles and hand loads were making last minute checks of their range cards for distance and their sandbags for stability. They knew from Blackfoot that they had to take out the black uniforms. They could walk among the undead and they could jump twenty feet. They would find an unguarded portion of the wall, get in and start cutting people down. Shooting them in the back like the cowards they were. Their job was to reach out and touch them before they got close.
Jimmy and Tony found Lizzie and Gage at the Gold Digger and they were catching up, swapping stories and trying to stay out of the way like they’d been told. The town was bustling but organized and for once the kids couldn’t think of anything to do to help. Sandy came over with a plate of burgers for them then hustled off. It might be a long, drawn out battle and Adam had every grill fired up, prepping food in advance for the men and women on the walls.
“Dang, y’all must be eating good here.” Tony said. “She sure put on some pounds. You guys get cheeseburgers every day?”
“You can’t say anything about a girl’s weight!” Liz
zie scolded and smacked him on the arm.
Before he could ask why not, a Chinese lady hurried homemade root beers over to them then disappeared back into the kitchen to help with the preparations. They dug in and talk turned to how they could help Tombstone. What their role in the upcoming fight should be. All around them people had jobs and were hustling in and out, getting ready for a life and death struggle. They knew there wouldn’t be any surrender, they’d heard the talk. With the Bradley, the rockets and the machine guns from Lakota, they were pretty confident they’d be okay. The trick was to keep the zed’s away. Send the Bradley out to kill as many as possible far away from the walls. Don’t let them ramp up and claw their way over. Maybe even get the hordes to follow it off. If it could lead them a few miles down the road, get them spread out then turn around and run them down. The snipers would take care of the Anubis cult guys. Maybe all the hubbub and hustle was going to be for nothing. Since they had been warned and were prepared, maybe the big battle was going to be a boring skirmish.
“There really ain’t much we can do.” Gage said. “They’ve got nearly every round of ammo already staged on the walls. We’ve loaded thousands of magazines already, we’ve been doing that for days. They’ve got machine gun emplacements and snipers and the secret weapon, the Bradley. They’ve got buckets stacked up at the courthouse in case there’s a fire. I think we might be able to sit this one out.”
“We can go up to the church tower and be lookouts.” Lizzie said. “It’s the highest point in town.”
Zombie Road VI: Highway to Heartache Page 14
