Dead America The Second Week (Book 8): Dead America: El Paso Part 3

by Slaton, Derek

  She poured his cup and then set the pot aside. “Thirty-five long years and counting.”

  “That is a long time,” he agreed. “But I’m hoping your longevity can help us out. You see those buildings here that are just down the road from the hospital? Do you know what’s there?”

  “Oh, ain’t nothing there anymore,” she replied. “Not since ninety-eight. Used to be some sort of manufacturing place, but it went under when the owner figured out he could get stuff cheaper in China. Needless to say, that greedy bastard got run out of town real quick.”

  Leon raised an eyebrow. “So there’s nothing in there now?”

  “Not unless you count a couple of dirty mattresses some rail ridin’ bums would use from time to time.” Ethel shrugged.

  “Thank you darlin’, you’re the best,” Leon said, and gave her a wink.

  She squeezed his shoulder before taking the pot and heading off to make a fresh one.

  “So, what?” Trenton asked. “You want us to Pied Piper their asses into one of these buildings?”

  Leon folded his arms across his chest and reclined his chair, turning to look at the group. “Best I can come up with on short notice, but I’m open to ideas.”

  “What are we supposed to do with them once we have them in there?” Clara asked.

  He pointed to the gas station a few blocks away from the vacant buildings. “We get ‘em in, lock ‘em up, then have us a gasoline-fueled barbecue.”

  “Well, I’ve heard worse ideas,” Trenton said.

  Clara blinked at him. “Really?”

  “Let’s just say some of my frat brothers weren’t going to make it to old age, even without the zombies,” he explained.

  She shook her head. “Fair enough.”

  “Well, I think between the five of us, we can pull this off,” Trenton said, holding up a fist to accentuate his point.

  “Four of us, because Leon isn’t going in,” Rogers declared.

  The man in question’s eyes widened. “The hell I’m not! Y’all need me.”

  “Without a doubt, but this settlement needs you more,” Rogers shot back. “The four of us are expendable, because you can do anything we can do. However, you can do something none of us can.” He pointed to the computer. “There’s just no replacing you.”

  Leon chewed on his lip, and leaned back in his chair. After a tense moment, he sighed. “I’m still gonna help, though.” He turned and zoomed back out, showing all of Fabens on the screen. “If any of the school horde breaks off and heads your way, they’re gonna have to cross this street.” He pointed to the main road leading into town that had the barricade set up. “I have a clear line of sight all the way down it. If a straggler comes across, I can take him out. If more than that comes, I can give you a warning.”

  Rogers grinned. “Always fun to know what impending doom is headed our way.”

  “There’s a reason my nickname ain’t Sunshine,” Leon added.

  Trenton waved his hands in front of his face. “Okay, four people versus a town full of the living dead. And we can’t fire a shot. This is gonna be fun.”

  “Three people versus a town full of the living dead,” Leon corrected.

  Trenton groaned. “You’re killing me, man.”

  “If we don’t deliver then the Cartel is going to be doing the killing,” Leon reminded him as he clicked around on the keyboard again. “So we need to hedge our bets. I found this while doing a regional sweep, completely by accident. I was typing in the Fort Stockton coordinates and hit the wrong number, and this came up.”

  He zoomed in on a small speck about twenty miles east of the town, revealing four small buildings and a large trailer.

  Reed’s brow furrowed. “So there’s a truck.”

  “Yep, a truck where it doesn’t belong,” Leon pointed out. “My guess is that some truck driver decided to hijack his own haul, found this little abandoned place, and decided to call it home.”

  The younger man shook his head. “Dude, for all we know, it could have been there for years.”

  “This truck has been well maintained, and recently,” Leon replied, zooming in as far as he could on the pristine-looking vehicle. “Hell, you can even see some remnants of the tracks in the dirt. This is somebody who decided to take refuge away from everybody else.”

  “So your plan is to go rob him?” Rogers asked.

  Leon shook his head. “I was thinking of a peace offering. Maybe bring them one of the rifles and some ammo to trade?”

  “Or use on them if they aren’t hospitable,” Trenton added.

  Rogers clenched his jaw. “Let’s try to limit that if we can. We already got enough enemies to deal with.”

  “Or maybe we will get lucky and they’ve already bit the big one,” Reed said.

  Clara scoffed. “What about the last two weeks makes you think we have that kind of luck?”

  “Uh… we’re due?” Reed tried.

  Leon swiveled to face the group again. “Question is, who is gonna go?”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Clara said immediately, raising her hand.

  “No, no,” Reed cut in. “Let me go handle it.”

  She glared at him. “You don’t think I can?”

  “I didn’t say that,” he replied, putting up his hands, palms out. “It’s just that I don’t think you should be out there on your own, that’s all.”

  “Why? Because I’m a girl and can’t handle myself?” Her voice rose a few notches as she turned to him, eyes blazing. “Did you forget that I was on my own in Van Horn yesterday? Did you forget that I found my way through the city and located what we needed? All while I was by my lonesome, and while I was a girl.”

  There was a pregnant pause and Reed turned to Leon. “So. How is Clara getting there?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Leon flipped through a few papers lying on his desk and motioned for the group to follow him. He opened the door to one of the trailers from the Cartel, revealing the motorcycles. Trenton and Reed both gave little whoops and rushed inside, each wheeling one out.

  Rogers grabbed a brochure dangling from the handle of one of the bikes, and flipped through it. “Thank you for your purchase of the yada yada yada,” he muttered. “Okay, here we go. Comes equipped with two twelve by eighteen by ten storage bins, perfect for a change of clothes, a picnic lunch, or an extra tank of gas. Blah blah… this is the most fuel efficient bike on the market and can get upwards of four hundred mils on a single tank of gas.”

  “Is that going to get me to where I need to go?” Clara asked.

  Leon nodded. “Oh, without a doubt. I think it’s about two hundred and fifty miles each way, including the detour around Fort Stockton.”

  “Detour, huh?” Clara raised an eyebrow. “What are the odds it’s paved?”

  Leon held out a map, and ran his finger along a highlighted path and some written directions scrawled across the stop. “When you get to Van Horn, you’re going to want to take Highway ninety south. It’s basically a loop that will run into Fort Stockton. You’re gonna want to turn off here and keep riding until you come up on Highway two-eighty-five. Head north until you hit this path and you should come up on the east side of Fort Stockton.”

  She took the map and studied it for a moment, then pointed to Marfa, Texas, which had been circled in blue pen. “What’s up with Marfa here?”

  “You sending her to see the Marfa lights?” Rogers asked, sidling up next to them.

  She turned to him. “The what?”

  “It’s their claim to fame,” Leon replied. “At night, you could supposedly see UFO lights in the distance, but once scientists looked into it, they discovered it was actually headlight reflections off the atmosphere.”

  Trenton snorted. “Probably not gonna see much, then.”

  “Well, if you did, you could really stick it to those alien-hating scientists,” Reed countered.

  His friend shook his head. “Guessing the zombies already did that.”

  “True,�
�� Reed admitted.

  “Anyway,” Leon piped up, “I circled Marfa because it’s the largest town you’re going to pass through on this stretch of highway, so you need to be frosty when you go through in case there’s some company on the road. I did a quick check on the satellite when preparing this map, but it went out of range before I got a detailed look. I didn’t see much, but I wouldn’t put much stock in that.”

  Clara nodded. “Thanks for the heads up.”

  Trenton and Reed emerged from the trailer again after rummaging around, holding guns and rations and gas cans. Trenton handed Clara an AK-47, and she slung it over her back as they packed the saddlebags with supplies.

  Rogers inclined his head to the motorcycle. “Can you manage that okay?” he asked.

  She glared at him and hopped onto the bike, kick-starting it in a single attempt, revving the engine for effect. “I got my first dirt bike when I was ten.” She smirked. “I think I can handle this grandpa-mobile.”

  The Detective scratched the back of his head, shooting her an apologetic look.

  “Were you not paying attention to what I did earlier?” Reed muttered under his breath, and Rogers cracked a smile.

  “Go get ‘em, tiger,” he declared.

  Clara clipped her helmet on and shot him a wink before peeling out, tires squealing.

  “What do you say, boys?” Leon asked, swiping his hands together as she disappeared over the horizon. “Y’all ready to get our party started?”

  Trenton shook his head. “Nope. But that’s never stopped us before.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Okay fellas, you’re going to go six blocks straight down before hanging a right,” Leon instructed as he handed out printed maps. “A block up from that will be the warehouse buildings. The biggest one is on the corner, and unless something is structurally wrong with it, I think it’s the best bet here.”

  Trenton adjusted the assault rifle hanging across his back. “Hopefully the doors are unlocked, or at the very least unlockable.”

  “Just remember to keep the noise to a minimum,” Leon reminded them. “You’ll be okay with banging noises, but limit the gunfire unless you want to attract a crowd.”

  Rogers checked his holsters, making sure his machete and hunting knife were accessible. “Where are we getting the gas from?”

  Leon pointed to a small circle on his map, four blocks from the hospital on the far side. “Small gas station here, and with any luck, you can get some from there.”

  “What about the generator noise?” Reed cut in.

  Leon shook his head. “It shouldn’t resonate to the school horde, but you might get some nibbles from the hospital one.”

  “Won’t be that big of a deal since we’ll have to attract them shortly after,” Rogers added.

  Trenton nodded as he studied his map. “It’s only about seven, eight blocks up from the hospital. We’ll have plenty of time to get in position to trap ‘em.”

  “Resistance at the gas station?” the Detective asked.

  Leon held out his hand, palm down, and wiggled it back and forth. “I saw a little bit of a dark mass around it, but shouldn’t be too big.”

  “Famous last words.” Rogers pursed his lips.

  His friend shrugged. “Won’t me my famous last words, on account of y’all not letting me join in.”

  “You know I’m right, though,” the Detective said firmly.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know.” Leon waved him off. “Now come on, y’all need to get rolling, we’re burning daylight.”

  Rogers extended his fist for bumping. “You keep an eye on that school group.”

  “Ain’t nothing gonna get by me, and if they do, you’ll be the first to hear about it,” Leon promised as he completed the bump.

  The Detective led his two companions over the barricade, and began walking side-by-side away from the relative safety of their base. Their light footfalls on the asphalt drew the attention of two zombies that were stuck in a row of bushes off of the side of the road. They struggled and moaned, wriggling against the tight branches.

  “Boys, do you want to do the honors?” Rogers asked.

  Trenton nodded, drawing his machete. “Yeah, we gotcha, boss.” He and Reed casually headed over to the bushes, each slashing down hard with their blades, the zombie heads cracking open like fresh coconuts.

  They rejoined the Detective, flicking their blades to get most of the gunk off. They traveled in silence, until reaching a chain link fence that had succumbed to nature from years of neglect.

  “That looks like the place,” Rogers said quietly as he stepped over the decrepit fence, between two of the still-standing posts. Trenton and Reed followed, the former heading towards a large white-paneled sliding door. It gave a little, but there was lots of gunk on the track so he wiggled it hard. It squeaked a little in protest and then rolled smoothly open.

  Sunlight poured into the dusty room, and Trenton let out a low whistle as he entered. “Damn, this place is huge. What do you think? Ten, maybe twelve thousand square feet?”

  “Not sure, but it’s definitely big enough for a few thousand zombies,” Reed replied. “Hey, Rogers, where you going?”

  The Detective surveyed the back wall. “Figured it might be a good idea to make sure we can get out,” he said. “Unless one of you boys wants a front row sweat to the barbecue.”

  They glanced at each other and shared a chuckle at their shared short-sightedness. They moved quickly to catch up to their fearless leader.

  Rogers inspected a fire door, brow furrowing as he inspected it for an alarm trigger. “Please don’t fuck us, please don’t fuck us,” he muttered under his breath as he gently pushed on the door handle. It stuck for a moment before clicking free and the door flung open.

  Thankfully, there was no alarm, just the sound of the door smacking against the side of the old building. Rogers headed outside into the small grassy courtyard, surrounded by the same busted fence they’d crossed over so easily.

  “Looks like we’re good here,” he declared, motioning to the main road they’d come in on, easily accessible from where they stood. “Let’s go check out the fuel situation.” He led the way down a path, making sure there were no rocks or roots or debris in their way when they had to use this area to make a hasty escape later.

  They circled back around to the main road, and took cover behind an old SUV parked in the driveway of a house to survey the gas station proper.

  “Fucking hell,” Trenton hissed at the sight of a few dozen zombies milling about by the pumps, “that’s a big group to have to hack down.”

  Reed nodded in agreement. “How in the world do we even do this?”

  “Hit and run, maybe?” his buddy suggested. “Smack one with our machete, then run back until another few break away from the pack and repeat?”

  Reed shook his head. “That’s a tough sell with how close we are to that other group.”

  “We could lure them up to the barricade,” Trenton tried.

  Rogers pursed his lips. “And we’d run the risk of drawing the hospital group up with them.” He peered through the window of the SUV, focusing on the dashboard. He checked around to see if there was a flashing light indicating an alarm system, and saw nothing.

  He removed his assault rifle from his back, and his two mates gaped at him.

  “Are we just gonna say fuck it and open fire?” Reed asked.

  The Detective shook his head. “Nah, I got an idea, though. Keep an eye on them, will ya?”

  The young men nodded and peeked out around the back of the vehicle, staring at the walking corpses only about a hundred and fifty yards away. Rogers stood and used the butt of his rifle to smash in the driver’s side window, and then ducked down quickly.

  The trio held their breath for a full minute.

  “Are they coming this way?” Rogers whispered.

  Trenton shook his head. “I think we’re good.”

  “Another bullet dodged,” the Detective said, and reache
d in the busted window to unlock the door. He slithered inside, careful not to rub up against any broken glass, and ripped down the plastic panel beneath the steering column.

  Trenton snorted. “So, they teach hot wiring at the academy, do they?”

  “Let’s just say I may have left a few things off my academy application,” Rogers replied, and turned his head to give the boys a wink. When he found the wires he wanted, he paused. “They may not have noticed the glass, but I’m pretty sure they’ll notice this big bitch starting up.”

  “Where do you want us?” Trenton asked.

  The Detective inclined his head. “I’m gonna punch this thing right through them and hopefully take most of them out,” he explained. “I want y’all to follow behind, pick off any strays and finish off any others you see.”

  “Good a plan as any,” Reed said.

  The boys backed up a few feet, staying low in the knee so that they wouldn’t be spotted. Rogers got into the driver’s seat, and then touched the wires together, the engine sputtering and then roaring to life. He tied it off quickly and then threw the vehicle into reverse before slamming the door shut and punching the accelerator.

  He squealed back into the street, and then shoved the SUV into gear as the zombies quickly turned towards the noise. They shambled towards him, mouths open with drooling hunger, and the Detective grinned as he slammed his foot on the gas.

  There was a little dip in the road just before contact, and the SUV took some air, smacking on top of the first row of zombies before obliterating a good chunk of the corpses, sending them flying through the air or crushed beneath tires.

  He skidded to a stop in front of the gas station and jumped out, drawing his machete and immediately taking out a still writhing ghoul on the asphalt.

  Trenton and Reed rushed into the trail of guts and gore, slicing and dicing with their own blades, systematically taking out every still-moving zombie left. Rogers moved swiftly as well, lobotomizing the corpses one and a time.

  In a matter of minutes, the mini horde had been reduced to a simple pile of rotting and now actually lifeless flesh.