Landry joined her. “Any ideas?” he asked.
“Bash and push back,” she replied. “Anything we can do to buy time.”
He cracked his neck, readying himself for a fresh tussle. “Let’s do it.”
Both soldiers stepped forward, meeting the front line five yards away from the truck. Whitaker cracked a creature over the head with the crowbar, dropping it, and then used the rounded end to shove another back into the group.
Landry grabbed a teenage zombie by the shirt, spinning it around and then tossing it like a sack of potatoes. It knocked back several corpses, staggering the front line decently.
The soldiers scrambled as best they could, but the horde grew denser by the second.
“Get in the truck bed!” Whitaker yelled.
Both of them clambered up into the truck bed, and Whitaker stabbed down repeatedly with the pointy end of the crowbar as Landry slid back towards Hammond.
“Sarge, get in the cab, now!” he barked. “We can’t hold ‘em off!”
The Sergeant muttered to himself, jumping up into the seat, slamming the door behind him. He threw his legs over to the passenger’s side and crawled beneath the dash again. Zombies smacked up against the side of the truck, echoing booms throughout the cab, and he smacked two wires together, generating a spark.
“Come on, come on…” he grunted, and finally the truck sprang to life. He slithered back up into the driver’s seat, and reached back to open up the window behind his head. “We’re on the move!” he cried, and threw the vehicle into reverse.
The truck was old, but it still had a lot of life left as it plowed through the corpses behind it.
Landry and Whitaker held on, grabbing the railings on the side, watching the ghouls bounce off of it, left, right, and center. Once the truck was straight on the road, Hammond punched the gas, speeding away from the horde.
He finally turned north and raced along, the two soldiers in the back keeping sharp eyes out for any potential Cartel patrols. After a few minutes of driving, they reached the end of the residential area.
Hammond stopped at the last road before the desert. “Everybody good back there?” he called.
“Lovely,” Whitaker replied dryly.
“Good,” he said. “Gonna have to hang on tight. We’re gonna head out into the desert. If memory serves, it should only be a few miles to that back road that’ll take us out to Fabens.”
Landry threw a fist into the air. “Bring it!” he cried. “Let’s just get back.”
Whitaker nodded and adjusted her grip.
Hammond faced front, hit the gas, and blew out into the sand.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Does anybody need anything?” Ethel stood up from her desk, offering a smile to the somber quartet sitting in the office, nervously watching the time tick by. “I was gonna head on home and start making dinner.”
“You go on ahead, Ethel,” Rogers replied. “Don’t know how long we’re going to be sittin’ here.”
She reached out and patted Trenton on the shoulder on her way to the door. “Well, if you get hungry, you know where to find me.”
“Thank you,” Clara said quietly but sincerely, staring up at the wonderful old woman with adoration in her eyes. As soon as the door shut behind her, the young woman sank back down into her chair. “The waiting is unbearable,” she said.
Leon sighed. “You get used to it.”
“Only if we live long enough,” Clara shot back.
“Girl’s got a point,” Rogers added dryly.
The air horn bleated, and everyone tensed up.
“Showtime,” Leon said, voice tight, and they all piled over to the window. They breathed a collective sigh of relief at the sight of the beat-up pickup truck skidding to a stop in the parking lot, Landry and Whitaker in the back.
“That’s a good sign,” Rogers said, his heart unclenching a bit at the sight of his girl, all in one piece. He led the group outside, just as the soldiers slid from the truck bed, rubbing their aching muscles.
“Fuck whoever owned this truck,” Landry groaned as he massaged his neck. “Shocks aren’t a luxury, they’re a goddamn necessity.”
Whitaker nodded with a grimace. “I’ve had smoother rides while dodging mortars.”
Hammond jumped down from the driver’s seat and faced Leon, brow furrowed.
“Glad you made it back in one piece, Sergeant,” Leon greeted. “How did-”
“What do you know about Mathis?” Hammond cut in.
Leon shook his head. “Haven’t heard anything from him, although the satellite should be coming over in a few minutes,” he replied. “Not sure what we’ll be able to see, but can’t hurt to check.”
The Sergeant nodded, his shoulders relaxing a bit. “Sorry,” he said, dejected, “I didn’t mean to cut you off there. We’ve just had a hell of a day, and I’m anxious about him and the mission.”
“Don’t worry about it Hammond, it’s understandable given the circumstances,” Leon assured him.
Trenton raised an eyebrow. “Man, this is quite the ride you found for yourselves.”
“Yeah, we kind of had to blow up our other one,” Landry replied, scratching the back of his head with a grin.
Trenton shrugged. “I guess this one probably stuck out like a sore thumb wherever you found it.”
Hammond, Leon, and Rogers suddenly shared a look of concern.
“Clara, can you please take this to the school garage?” the Detective asked.
She cocked her head. “Sure, but why?”
Whitaker caught on, nodding. “Because it did stick out to us, which means it most likely stuck out to the Cartel patrols,” she explained. “If they see it here, they might put two and two together.”
“Which would mean we’d be fucked,” Landry finished brightly.
Clara nodded and hopped into the truck, firing it up.
Leon put his hands in the open window. “And once you get it there, head on home,” he instructed. “Chances are we’re going to be getting a visit from our friends, and you still need to be hidden.”
“I’ll take care of it,” she replied firmly, and popped the truck into drive, heading off towards the school garage.
Leon waved for the group to follow him. “Come on, let’s go check out that satellite.” He led them into the command center, and then sat in front of his computer. After a moment the screen came to life, showing an aerial view of the city. “City hall…” he murmured to himself as he scanned the map, and then zoomed in on the proper building. “Definitely a lot bigger guard presence than they normally have,” he said.
“What do they usually have?” Landry asked.
Leon drummed his fingers on the desk. “Two pairs of guards covering the entrance.”
“There’s gotta be at least ten times that now,” the Private said.
Whitaker pointed at the screen. “Look, they’re carrying something.”
Leon zoomed in as much as he could, and it looked like two men carrying a body bag. “I don’t know if Mathis got his shot off, but I think it’s safe to say that Reed was successful.”
Before they could speculate any further, the air horn went off in the distance. Everybody glanced at one another, eyes wide.
“Mathis isn’t supposed to be coming back here,” Hammond said.
Rogers stood up. “Cartel.”
“Trenton, I’m gonna need you to join me out there,” Leon said, taking control of the room. “Everybody else, sit tight, and don’t do anything unless they start trying to burn down the town.” He looked sternly at the Sergeant, who raised his hands.
“We’ll stand down until they make the first move,” Hammond promised.
Leon patted him on the shoulder and led the young man outside. They stood in the parking lot as five SUVs came screaming up. The vehicles fanned out in the parking lot, covering Leon’s full range of view. The lead vehicle in the center skidded to a halt, with the passenger’s side door flying open before the engine even cut
off.
Angel Rivas dove out, screaming at the top of his lungs as he stormed over. “You motherfucker, how dare you attack us?!”
Leon shrugged and cocked his head. “What are you talking about?” he asked cooly. “Someone attacked you?” He looked over at Trenton, who also shrugged.
Angel stepped up, nose to nose with Leon, and still screaming. “You know damn well what I’m talking about!”
“You’d better back up,” Leon warned. “Because I have no problem smacking a little bitch.”
Rodriguez stepped out of another vehicle and crossed his arms. “Did you ever stop to think he’s telling the truth, Angel?” he asked, voice calm as still water.
The younger Rivas whirled on him, holding up a thick finger. “Of course you’d come to his defense,” he snarled. “You probably helped them plan the attack.”
Rodriguez’ eyes blazed, storming forward and staring down his nose at the little prick. “You watch your tone, and remember who you are speaking to.”
Angel backed down, turning back to Leon with a huff. “So you didn’t know that one of our checkpoints was blown up by a car bomb?”
“Car bomb?” Leon laughed. “Does it look like either of us knows how to make a car bomb? Let alone have the material to do that?”
Angel sneered. “You’re a smart man,” he said, and though it should have been a compliment, it felt backhanded. “I’m sure you could figure it out.”
“Bitch, I work on computers,” Leon replied, holding his palms up. “The closest thing I get to getting my hands dirty is when I spill coffee on my keyboard and have to clean it up. And besides that, does it look like we have the capacity to launch an attack? There’s two able-bodied people in this town, and you’re looking at them. It’s taken everything we have just to clear out the town of zombies, so even if we did have the knowhow to build a car bomb, even if we did have the ammo—which we don’t, by the way—and even if we were secretly Rambo in disguise, we’re too fucking tired from everything else we’ve been doing.” He shook his head and laughed again. “Shit man, just talking to you is making me want to go take a nap.”
Angel clenched his fists.
“That’s enough, Angel,” a stern voice called from the SUV, and Tiago Rivas defiantly stepped out. The left side of his face was bandaged up, his shirt covered in blood.
Leon didn’t react, but Trenton paled before schooling his expression as best he could.
The older Rivas casually walked up, putting a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Angel, you still have not learned that you cannot intimidate people by yelling at them. There are some people you can’t intimidate at all, so it requires a different approach.” He turned to Leon. “I’ve met you before, but as you can see, I have had a rough day. Would you be so kind as to refresh my memory? What is your name?”
“My name’s Leon,” the other man replied, and motioned to his companion. “This my lead, er, well, only scout remaining, Trenton.”
Tiago nodded knowingly. “Ah yes, Leon,” he said, motioning between them. “I remember that now. The computer whiz with his magical eye in the sky.”
“That’s me,” Leon replied.
The Cartel leader stepped forward, leaning in. “Leon, I have a very important question for you,” he said in a low voice. He pointed to his eye. “Did you have a hand in doing this to me?”
“No, I did not,” Leon replied without hesitation.
Tiago looked him up and down, studying him carefully. He clucked his tongue. “Well, surely you can see why I would come to that conclusion.”
“No, I really don’t,” the other man admitted.
“Sure you can, you are a bright man,” Tiago said, straightening up. “The entire reason I was in position to have a shot taken at me, was because the man taken from this town was infected. He turned into one of those things, and nearly took me out himself. So what do you have to say about that?”
Leon shrugged. “I’d say you need better medical staff that can identify a zombie bite,” he replied easily. “Hell, our nurse is so old she started treating people during the Carter administration and she can tell what a bite is, assuming she knows about it. I’d like to think with your resources, you could scrounge up someone just as qualified.”
Tiago took a step back, blinking at him for a moment and then burst into laughter. “If my men had half the balls you do, I would have an army that could conquer the country,” he declared, spreading his arms. “But you are absolutely correct.” He pointed at Leon. “I do need better medical people. Not just for what you said, but because my personal doctor died in the attack.”
“My condolences,” Leon replied, putting a hand over his heart.
The Cartel leader nodded in appreciation, though it was clear in his eyes that he didn’t care about the doctor in the sense that he was sad to lose a comrade. Leon assumed the man didn’t much care about anyone other than himself.
“That is appreciated,” Tiago replied with false sincerity. “And what else is appreciated is the beverage that you supply me with. I know it’s not your normal time, but if you could part with one of those bottles, I would consider it a… personal favor.”
Leon inclined his head to Trenton. “This man’s had a rough day and could use a drink,” he said. “Why don’t you run into the office and grab the bottle on my desk?”
The younger man didn’t reply, simply nodded and ran back to the command center.
Tiago smiled. “I don’t know where you keep finding this stuff, but it is fantastic.”
“Well, we are currently doing inventory of the town,” Leon replied with a shrug, “so let me know if you need a Playstation or something to help you pass the time between bottles.”
The Cartel leader waved him off with a look of disgust. “I have no need for childish things like that,” he said, raising his chin. “Just keep supplying me with the bottles and I’ll continue letting this little town of yours exist.”
“Consider it a deal,” Leon replied.
Trenton jogged back out and held out the bottle to Tiago, who took it with both hands, admiring the label.
“Such a treasure,” he said. “My only hope is that the genius that created this masterpiece is still alive somewhere.”
Leon shrugged. “If you’d like, we can add finding him on the list.”
The Cartel leader chuckled. “Until next time, Leon,” he said, saluting him with the top of the bottle. He let out a whistle, and his men headed back to the vehicles. Tiago paused on his way, turning around with his finger in the air as if he’d just remembered something. “Oh, and since you didn’t do this to me, you probably won’t care that we did catch the shooter,” he said. “I have some associates of mine who are preparing a healthy regimen of pain and suffering for him.” He studied his associate carefully.
Leon kept his expression stone cold, giving nothing away. “Have at it,” he replied with a shrug. “If your boys need any pointers, let me know. I learned some shit on one of my deployments that would make the Spanish Inquisition cringe.”
Tiago grinned like a wolf ready for a meal. “I believe we have it under control,” he said, “but I appreciate the offer.” He turned and got into his vehicle, prompting the caravan to take off back towards the interstate.
As the dust settled, Trenton and Leon stared after the vehicles, stomachs sinking.
“What the fuck do we do now?” Trenton asked.
Leon took a deep breath. “We go break the news to the others.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Leon and Trenton walked into the command center, defeat written all over their faces. The rest of the group turned, ashen-faced, from the window.
“Was that motherfucker still alive?” Hammond snapped.
Leon nodded, scrubbing his hands down his face. “Yes. Mathis was able to do some damage to him, but didn’t get a direct hit.”
“How the fuck can you shoot someone with a fifty-cal round in the head and not kill him?” Landry demanded.
Leon shook his head, collapsing into his chair. “Could be a thousand different things, man. Most likely the bullet shattered as it went through the safety glass, and he got hit with debris instead of the round.”
“Fuck!” Landry roared, and kicked the desk next to him with such force that it slid away from him.
Whitaker crossed her arms. “Mathis isn’t going to be happy to hear about this,” she said. “All that work just for a wound.”
“Well, we’ll let him have it tomorrow when we pick him up,” Landry replied.
Leon and Trenton shared a concerned look, and the Private blinked at them, looking back and forth between them like a ping-pong match.
“We are picking him up tomorrow,” he said slowly, “aren’t we?”
Leon drew his bottom lip between his teeth, and took a deep breath. “We’re not.”
“Is he dead?” Whitaker demanded.
Leon swallowed, hard. “I… I don’t think so.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Landry threw his hands up.
“It means that I can only go off what that asshole Tiago told me,” Leon replied. “But they have him.”
Whitaker and Landry shared a glance, and then began checking their weapons in unison.
Leon held out his hands. “Whoa, what are you doing?”
“What’s it look like?” Landry snapped. “We’re going to go get him.”
Rogers shook his head. “That’s a bad idea.”
“I don’t give a fuck!” the Private snarled, and pointed at the Detective. “He’s our man and we’re going to go get him!”
Rogers looked to Hammond, eyes pleading.
“Stand down, Landry,” the Sergeant said quietly.
“Why?!” Landry roared, turning on his superior.
Hammond sighed heavily. “Well for starters, they’re a hardened target, and we don’t have the manpower or resources to fight it.”
“And if you get caught or killed, the next thing they’ll do is burn this town to the ground, and everyone in it,” Leon added.
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