Dead America The Third Week (Book 7): Dead America, El Paso Pt. 7

by Slaton, Derek

  DEAD AMERICA

  THE THIRD WEEK

  BOOK 7 - EL PASO 7

  BY DEREK SLATON

  CHAPTER ONE

  Day Zero +19

  Leon stood in the parking lot of the command center, staring into the distance, feeling numb. The failed attempt to take out Tiago Rivas felt too senseless, too useless, and he was having a hard time dealing with the crushing disappointment and dread.

  His mind wandered as he looked at the high-end bottle of tequila in his hands, knowing there was only one more in reserve. He clenched his jaw as he thought of Reed, how the kid must have suffered until his last breath. He thought of Mathis, the poor sniper who was probably now suffering even more, if he was even alive. If he was, he was probably wishing for death by now, given the way the Rivas’ liked to play with their prey. Especially with a man that had injured El Guapo.

  Before he could get too far into his own depressed mind, the airhorn blared, snapping him back into the moment. He perked up, standing with his shoulders back, and his expression neutral. He had to be cool. Calm. Collected. He had a role to play here, because if Angel Rivas even had an inkling that Leon knew about Mathis or the attempt on his father’s life, the town would be wiped out. And with his military friends off with Clara’s friends at Fort Stockton, there was barely any firepower to defend themselves. He had to protect the innocent people in this town, and play his role.

  A lone SUV drove slowly up the road towards him, giving him a glimmer of home that Rodriguez had slipped away to come give him a tiny bit of information. Where they were holding Mathis, maybe. Where to find something to keep Tiago Rivas appeased. Any scrap of help would be useful.

  Leon’s heart sank as the vehicle grew closer and it was Angel behind the wheel. The SUV didn’t stop short away from him as it usually did, this time pulling up right next to him. After a moment, the tinted window rolled down, revealing a smirking Angel Rivas.

  “Do you have today’s delivery?” he asked with a sneer.

  Leon held up the bottle, and Angel snatched it from his hand like a dog grabbing a treat. He handed it off to the passenger, who cradled a large handgun in his lap.

  “No big dog and pony show today?” Leon drawled.

  Angel shook his head. “Don’t need to anymore,” he replied, raising his chin. “You saw firsthand what happened to my father, so you know what’s hanging over your head. We both know that you are running out of offerings, so it’s only a matter of time before my father lets me burn this town to the ground.”

  Deep down, Leon knew he was right. They were running low, and each time Tiago looked in the mirror and saw the damage to his face, the less restrained he would be. Regardless, he had a role to play, and he had to stay confident.

  “I wouldn’t be getting too confident there, daddy’s boy,” Leon replied. “We’ve got a few tricks up our sleeves.”

  The kid rolled his eyes. “You Americans really are something else,” he spat. “I do hope you keep that attitude while I make you watch as I gut everybody you care about right in front of you. No one will be spared. Men, women, children. One by one I will pluck out their eyes and dig a blade deep-”

  “Blah, blah, blah,” Leon cut in, holding up his hand to mimic a sock puppet.

  Angel’s eyes blazed, and he looked like he was going to start yelling, but then instead burst out laughing, smacking the steering wheel in his mirth. “Your time is coming, and I think you know that,” he accused. “It’s a beautiful day today. You should go out and enjoy it, because you aren’t going to have too many more.”

  He rolled up the window and punched the gas, spinning the tires for a moment before sliding the back end of the SUV around and speeding off into the distance. Leon stayed tall, standing with his shoulders back, waiting for the vehicle to vanish over the horizon.

  When it was gone, his muscles slumped, and he shook his head. “Pains me to say it,” he muttered to himself as he turned back towards the command center, “but unless we pull a rabbit out of a hat, that asshole might just be right.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Leon slunk back inside, the weight of the situation heavy on his shoulders. He tried to remain positive, but it was taking more of his energy than usual. His eyes were weary, dark circles beneath, as if he’d been up for a week and knew he couldn’t go to bed yet.

  As he stepped through the door, Ethel was standing right there, holding a steaming mug of coffee.

  “You drink up now,” she said with a smile.

  He looked at her, and despite everything he couldn’t help but return the smile. “Thanks, Ethel.” He took the cup, and then blinked in shock as she smacked him in the back of the head.

  “Now perk the hell up, we ain’t dead yet,” she said, fierceness suddenly overtaking her old frame. “Any until we are, I’m gonna smack anyone who thinks it’s okay to look like this. Everybody understand?”

  From the desk area, Rogers, Trenton and Clara sat up straight and declared “Yes, ma’am!” all in unison.

  “Good!” Ethel replied, smoothing down her skirt and taking a deep breath. “Now, I’ll be at my desk if anybody needs anything.” She headed off to her seat, and the quartet stayed stock still for a moment, watching her go.

  Leon shook his head and headed over to his crew, collapsing into his desk chair with a huff.

  “It go that well, huh?” Rogers asked.

  His friend rubbed his forehead and took a sip of coffee. “Angel is chomping at the bit to rip this town a new one,” he said. “And if we run out of stuff to give his old man, I’m afraid he’s gonna get his wish.”

  “I take it he’s still bitter about the whole eye thing?” Trenton asked with grimace.

  Leon nodded. “Pretty sure that’s a safe assumption.”

  “Did…” Clara cleared her throat. “Did he say anything about Mathis?”

  Leon shook his head with a sigh. “He didn’t, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to bring it up.”

  “Guessing there hasn’t been word from Rodriguez, either?” the Detective asked.

  “He’s probably laying lower than we are right now,” Leon mused. “Looks real suspicious to have the prisoner you bring back to the boss’s location turn into a zombie right after.”

  Trenton wrung his hands in his lap. “You… you think he’s okay?”

  “Without a doubt,” Leon replied easily.

  “How can you be so sure?” Clara asked, picking at a loose thread on her pants.

  “Because Angel is the type of douchebag that would drop off his severed head on our doorstep if they’d done anything to him,” Leon replied.

  The room fell silent, contemplating the thought and trying not to imagine that very thing happening.

  “Well shit, man,” Rogers finally declared. “Is there any good news?”

  Leon reached under his desk and pulled out a bottle of tequila, setting it down and presenting it like a car show model. “We still have one bottle of the good stuff,” he said. “So that buys us what? Forty-eight hours? Maybe seventy-two since they won’t know we’re dry until the following pickup.”

  “Not the most uplifting news I’ve ever heard,” Clara muttered.

  Leon cocked his head. “So I’m guessing nothing was found in town overnight?”

  Rogers shook his head. “Nothing that helps this situation,” he admitted. “If we can survive, we’ll be looking good, though. Lots of canned food, medicine, and a surprisingly large pot operation.”

  “How does that help?” Clara asked.

  Leon chuckled. “Well, for starters, we’re going to be all kinds of rela
xed.”

  “And there were several greenhouses,” the Detective continued, “so if we can get some soil we can start growing some of our own food.”

  His friend sighed. “But no alcohol, though.”

  “Nothing of quality,” Rogers replied. “Found some stuff that could double as an engine degreaser, so unless they’ve cleared out all the automotive stores in El Paso, it’s not doing us much good.”

  A somber silence fell over the room once again.

  The Detective clapped his hands down onto his knees. “We still have about half the houses left to search,” he said, “but with the way this has been going so far, I would be shocked if we find anything.”

  Ethel walked up with a fresh pot of coffee to refresh everyone’s mugs. “Sounds to me like you’d better start coming up with a new plan,” she said brightly. “You’ve gotten us this far. Time to take us a little further.” She raised an eyebrow and then returned to her desk.

  “Well, let’s spitball it,” Leon suggested, rolling a hand in the air. “No idea too out there. Let’s hear ‘em.”

  Trenton raised his hand. “We could abandon the town?”

  “And go where?” Rogers asked. “We’re in the middle of the desert.”

  The younger man shrugged. “We have plenty of cars in town and a gas station, we can get pretty far.”

  “Again, where would we go?” the Detective repeated. “They’re not letting us through El Paso, there’s nothing to the north, we’d survive about ten minutes south of the border, and every bit of civilization to the east is zombie central.”

  “Not to mention fleeing the town would give Angel a green light to hunt us down,” Leon added.

  Trenton sank back into his chair, pursing his lips.

  “Clara, do you think we could ask Fort Davis for help?” Rogers asked.

  She shrugged. “I mean we could, but the reality is that they aren’t going to have anything of value,” she replied. “They’re a smaller town than we are, so I can’t imagine them having what we’d be looking for.”

  “Plus every time you go up there they shoot at you,” Trenton quipped.

  She wrinkled her nose. “There’s that too.”

  “So I’m guessing they wouldn’t be willing to let us join them?” Leon asked.

  “If you were in their shoes, would you let us join?” Clara asked, holding out her hands. “Several dozen people who need to be fed and sheltered, and who have managed to piss off the Cartel army that conquered El Paso?” She paused, seeming to contemplate for a moment, and then shook her head, taking a sip of her coffee.

  Leon raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t like your other idea there?” he asked.

  “Not really,” she admitted, “as it would be borderline suicide.”

  Rogers sighed. “Well, at the rate we’re going, suicide might be better than just waiting for an inevitable torture-filled death,” he pointed out. “So throw it out there.”

  “We could go to Fort Stockton to try to get more alcohol,” Clara suggested.

  The room fell silent again, this time stunned. At first, it was the audacity of the suggestion, but then the creeping realization that it was their only option.

  “Fucking hell,” Rogers finally said, rubbing a hand down his face. “Are the options really that bad? Because that sounds like the best idea out of the bunch.”

  Trenton chewed his lip. “Clara, we’re good, but I don’t think the two of us are going to be able to pull that one off.”

  “Good thing it’s not just the two of us,” she replied, holding up a finger. “I’m sure Hammond and them are going to want a chance to rescue Mathis, and without us being here it’s going to be a hell of a lot more difficult for them to do it.”

  Leon leaned back in his chair. “Plus, they’re all batshit insane, so they’ll love the opportunity to blow some shit up.”

  “Do you think your other friends up there will be willing to help?” Rogers asked.

  “Send me up with a care package and I might be able to persuade them,” she replied with a nod.

  Ethel approached with a pad of paper and a pencil in her hand. “What do you want to send them, hon?” she asked gently.

  Clara turned to her, gripping her coffee mug with both hands. “Um, off the top of my head…” She thought for a moment. “Some more meds for their injured friend… some hard to find treats, maybe some chocolate or Twinkies? And some entertainment options wouldn’t be bad. They don’t have power, so books would be good.”

  Ethel nodded as she jotted everything down. “I have a pretty good inventory, I can have it pulled and loaded up shortly.”

  Trenton let out a whoosh of breath as the older woman headed off with her task. “So, this is the plan, huh?” he asked.

  “Looks that way.” Rogers nodded, and took another sip of his hot brew.

  Leon powered up his workstation, clicking away on the keyboard to bring up a satellite image of Fort Stockton. “This is a few days old, but it’s remained pretty consistent every time I’ve checked,” he said. “Not going to be able to pull fresh images for a few hours yet, but this should give you an idea of what you’ll be up against.”

  The group leaned forward, crowding around the monitor. There was a huge dark mass in the center of the city.

  “Looks like someone spilled ink on the screen,” Trenton breathed.

  Leon sighed. “Wish it was that simple,” he admitted. “Those are zombies.”

  “Fucking hell,” the younger man blurted.

  “Fucking hell is right,” Leon agreed. “That’s a solid wall a mile or so thick running right through the heart of town. Needless to say, you’re gonna want to avoid that.”

  Clara chuckled. “Thanks for the advice.”

  “I think suicide mission was understating it.” Trenton shook his head. “I don’t see how this is going to be possible.”

  Leon zoomed in on the eastern portion of town, where there were several black dots scattered about. “It’s possible if we get lucky,” he said, pointing. “For some reason the bulk of the horde is in the center of town, but the outskirts are somewhat manageable.”

  “How big are those groups?” Clara asked.

  “I don’t know,” Leon admitted. “Fifty. A hundred?”

  Rogers barked a humorless laugh. “How is that manageable?”

  “More manageable than the center city horde.” Leon shrugged.

  “Touche,” Rogers murmured.

  “If there is a liquor store on that side of town, you guys can get in, get what we need, and get out,” Leon said.

  Trenton took a deep breath. “And if there isn’t a store on that side of town?”

  “We ask Sparks if we can move in with them,” Clara replied. At the three blank stares she received, she laughed and shook her head. “Relax, fellas, I’m not serious.”

  Trenton sighed and stood up. “All right, I’ll get the SUV gassed up.”

  “When you get the keys, make sure you grab a blanket,” Leon suggested.

  Trenton raised an eyebrow. “Odd request, but okay?”

  “Clara’s going to need it,” the older man said, inclining his head towards her. “We have to assume the Cartel is watching us. If they see her in the passenger seat leaving here, they’re going to want to know who she is. Would rather not explain that one.”

  The two youngsters locked eyes, and Trenton nodded. “Blanket it is. I’ll be out front in five.” He headed out quickly, and she drained the last of her coffee before setting it on the table.

  “You should be okay once you get past Van Horn,” Leon said.

  She nodded. “I’ll stay out of sight.”

  “Still, you need to stay vigilant even once you’re past Van Horn,” Rogers added. “I wouldn’t put it past Angel to have someone trail you all day.”

  She nodded again. “We’ll be careful.” She stood up, and turned towards the door. “Oh, and don’t worry,” she called over her shoulder, “I’ll pick you boys up something nice from the big city.
” She winked and headed outside, making the two men chuckle and lift their downtrodden mood, even the tiniest bit.

  They turned back to the screen, focused on the massive amount of zombies their friends were heading in to.

  “I don’t know about you,” Rogers said, “but I feel kinda helpless.”

  Leon nodded. “No kidding,” he agreed. “Not a damn thing we can do, though.” He clinked his mug against the Detective’s, and they both took a sip as Ethel headed over.

  “Oh, I’m good, I don’t need a refill,” Rogers said kindly.

  The older woman handed him a sheet of paper full of addresses, and crossed her arms.

  “What’s this?” Leon furrowed his brow, looking over it.

  She raised her chin. “Just heard you say there wasn’t a damn thing you could do,” she declared. “Figured I’d help you out by giving you something to do. Need these houses inspected and inventoried by lunch. Only care about food and liquor right now, everything else can wait.” She didn’t want for confirmation, just turned and walked back to her desk.

  The men shook their heads, smiling.

  “Well, you heard the lady,” Rogers said, and drained the last of his mug.

  Leon followed suit and got to his feet. “Let’s do it, then.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Trenton drove the packed SUV down the interstate, moving along at a safe fifty miles per hour. The entire back portion was filled with goods, packed high enough that it was difficult to see inside from the back. He checked his side mirror, noting a moving reflective spark in the distance.

  Clara stretched out in the back seat, covered in a blanket and resting her head on a throw pillow propped up against the door. She watched him check his mirror for the hundredth time.

  “They still following us, I take it?” she asked.

  “Yeah, but they’re starting to fall back a bit,” Trenton replied. “Looks like they’re getting bored.”

  She shrugged, curling her hands behind her head. “Can’t blame them,” she said. “Nothing to look at besides a desert wasteland. And us, of course.”

  “Here’s hoping they don’t follow us on the turnoff,” Trenton said.