by Victor Cruz
“We never have enough ammo,” Maxson could hear Catalina’s voice coming out of him. “Not with you missing every single fuckin’ duck or buck from here to New York.”
Colton had made his way toward the locker where Maxson was standing. “I’m not any dang good with numbers. You know this, so why in the hell did you put me in charge of tracking them?”
“Because it doesn’t take a genius to count and write down the number that they just counted,” Maxson shook his head. “Either way, when we get back your ass is going to get this in order.”
He sighed, “I will. Damn, Maxson. I will.”
Maxson shook his head while handing him the tactical 12 gauge. “Where is Reggie?”
“Reggie’s right here,” The black man said walking into the garage from outside. “Inez let me know we have to go on a run. Old man isn’t doing so hot.”
Reggie was married to Catalina’s younger sister Inez and worked as a bouncer back in Rockport at a nightclub that was known to host a certain element of crime. He had grown up impoverished and became an underground bare-knuckle street fighter made Mason and Maxson a good load of money. The Devereaux brothers were no stranger to crime themselves and had watched him fight in the ring a few dozen times before he even met Inez. He stood second tallest of the three after Maxson with Colton close behind him. Each man was separated a few inches from one another, giving Maxson who was the tallest, the ability to tower over Colton. Though, Maxson was able to tower over most men at the height of 6’4.
“Henry’s a tough old man and can hold off until we find him those antibiotics,” Maxson responded and tossing them both a set of leather gloves. “Did you patch the roof?”
Reggie caught the gloves and shrugged with a blank face. “Yesterday’s storm made the hole worse, but I don’t think it will be leaking anytime soon.”
The three men began to prepare themselves for the trip. There was a pharmacy that was no farther than five miles down the road and it would be a quick stop and snatch style of excursion this time. Even though it was hot enough to wear shorts and walk around topless, the three men were layering up. Thermal under their long sleeves, hoodies on top of those and topping them off with a thick jacket. So far, they had found it to be practically bite proof from the starving undead cannibals.
Colton, being an experienced hunter, was accustom to carrying the .308 bolt action rifle and was a good shot with it from long distances. He fancied his vintage steel plated .45 ACP for its flash more than its substance. Reggie preferred the modern plastic polymer 9mm that was perfect for conceal and carry, but designated himself the 12-gauge shotgun. Maxson carried the low caliber .22 semi-automatic rifle which had an abundance of ammo even if it didn’t quite have the power. The way Maxson saw it, as long as it pierced the head and hit the brain, which it did, then it didn’t matter. Contrary to his comrades, Maxson carried the .38 revolver due to its consistent reliability and durability. In times like these, a jammed gun could get him killed and he very much enjoyed the act of living.
“How many shells are left for this thing, anyway?” Reggie asked as he loaded extra shells into the tactical sling that allowed for shells to be placed on the stock of the gun as well as the shoulder strap.
Maxson threw eye daggers at Colton, “Yeah, Colton. How many shells are left?”
Reggie looked over at Colton and Maxson with light brown eyes shifting between the two of them trying to read the situation. When Colton wasn’t looking, Reggie gave Maxson a knowing look “Did I miss something?”
“I haven’t been keeping track, alright?” Colton confessed reluctantly.
Reggie shook his head slowly doing his best to look down on Colton, “Tsk, tsk, tsk.”
Maxson nodded in agreement with Reggie and even crossed his arms at Colton to emphasize his disappointment. “Exactly.”
“Alright! I will, okay? Now, cool it with the hot press! It ain’t the end of the world!” Colton froze from his own careless words.
The three of them all went quiet at blonde man’s words about the end times. It was an expression that was once all too common to say years ago, but now held a gravity of grievance that made it different now. Each one of them looking at one another silently, before abruptly laughing in cynicism and released their morbid tension.
Like usual, the dying died down when Catalina walked in. The three men reacted to her female presence by straightening up and stiffening up tall to show they were at attention. Maxson was surprised when she held up a piece of paper and waved it around like a white flag.
“Thought you were coming in here to yell at us,” Admitted Maxson as he slung his rife over his shoulder and walked towards her.
“I was thinking about it, but I need a favor to ask you,” Catalina batted her long dark eyelashes theatrically.
Maxson sometimes wondered if Catalina’s improper grammar was all an act along with her enigmatic personality. Completely control of her emotions Catalina could go from sweet to spicy and back to femme fatale in all a matter of minutes depending on what was necessary.
Maxson took the piece of paper out of her hand. Questioning her in a tone that was intended to prompt guilt out of her. “And what is this?”
“Call it…. personal,” Catalina put a hand on his as he tried to open the piece of paper. “No, open when you get to Boo-Kers.”
Maxson gave her a strange look. “Uh, okay weirdo.”
“¡Gracias!” Catalina said sweetly even with his comment. Surprisingly leaning in and giving him a peck on the cheek with his lips. She gave another innocent smile and waved a finger at him and in his face. “Remember. Not until you get there.”
Maxson tucked the piece of paper in his pocket and gave a nod. “10-4.”
From behind Catalina, slowly appeared the youthful Belle-Lyanna Banks who was eighteen with the femininity of a woman more mature. Compared to Catalina, she looked slim with handfuls of breasts unlike Catalina’s ample mounds, but Maxson had spent enough time and snuck enough glances the last few months to know the truth. Her body had matured even in that small amount of time which made her feminine curves have a rare youthful perkiness to them. The black leggings that were skin tight showed off her long athletic legs and ended at her perfect hearted shaped butt; her best feature.
A beautiful strawberry blonde that should have been forming pyramids as a cheerleader and dating a quarterback. Dropping out of high school himself, Maxson wouldn’t have even met her. Maybe at a party where he was dealing her friend’s drugs, but other than that she came from an entirely different world and now they both were fighting for their lives to survive. Her losses from the outbreak had shattered her like so many others, but Maxson had been able to give her a shoulder o lean on and the shirt off his back to wipe her tears.
“You have to go?” Asked Belle nervously, but overall, rhetorically. She had just wanted to be there to make sure to see Maxson before he left; just in case. Her light green eyes like translucent gems and twinkled under the natural light invading the garage.
Maxson felt the need to stay, but simply nodded down at the girl that was blossoming into a woman under his eyes. She would be nineteen soon and forever out of her teenaged years soon after that.
“But why can’t you stay this time? You always have to go,” Pouted Belle with soft pink lips. “Can’t Konrad or one of the other knuckleheads go instead? It’s not fair!”
“No shit,” Piped up Reggie. “I was wondering the same.”
Maxson ignored Reggie’s comment to put a hand on Belle’s shoulder and gently brought her towards himself. It was all the encouragement she needed to quickly wrap her arms around his hardened torso. She squeezed him as tight as she could being that her skinny arms were unable to wrap around him. Maxon wrapped his bulging biceps around the tight and athletic blond.
“I’ll be fine, Belle, I always am,” Maxson sympathized. His arms were able to engulf the younger woman. Belle’s hair looked a vibrant copper color in the shade of the garage, but streaked with a
tawny blonde.
“You promise?” Belle asked like it would be the last time she ever saw him. Even though the trip was small, there was always a chance that someone didn’t come back.
“You think I’d miss my back massage?” Maxson answered her question with his own in a tone that conveyed his expectations of her when he returned. She cracked a smile long enough for Maxson to feel comfortable leaving her.
“Don’t worry Max. If you don’t make it back, I’ll make sure to take care of her,” The voice was coming from the entrance of the garage. Standing tall and at eye level with Maxson was the shaved head Konrad. “Real good care of her.”
His crackling voice was unpleasant and Maxson could feel Belle physically shudder inside his arms. She squeezed tighter and he could sense the hint of fear that radiated from her due to Konrad’s presence. Her face was turned in and looking away from Konrad who was less than easy on the eyes. He had a patchy beard and goatee on his face that was unevenly cut and made him look grungy. One of his green eyes was lazy and gave him a scowling stare that made him look permanently angry. He was covered in blood from butchering the deer that him and Colton had hunted earlier. Using a rag to wipe his bloodstained hands clean seemed like an impossible task. His crooked yellow teeth presented a wide jagged smile that made him look demented.
Maxson’s eyes narrowed at Konrad. “You worry about yourself. She’s fine.”
“Mhm. Sure is,” Agreed Konrad with a wicked snort. “Just know that you can count on me.”
Yeah. Count on you to backstab us the first second you get. Thought Maxson, but kept to himself while ignoring Konrad altogether. He had no evidence to believe Konrad would betray him, but there was just something about him that rubbed Maxson the wrong way. He was only a few years older than him, Colton and Reggie, but he might as well have been a century older with how little he chose to belong to the group.
Maxson gently, but easily pried Belle’s arms from around him while taking a step back. She responded by wrapping her arms around herself and stood there so small that Maxson could visually hone in on her vulnerability like an apex predator. A fact that only made him nervous with Konrad around.
“I’ll be back before you know it,” Reassured Maxson before twisting on the heel of his boot. Reggie and Colton were both standing there waiting on him and Maxson howled out a rally cry while in the garage. “Alright boys! Load up! Time to kick the tires and light the fires!”
“Yeee-Haw!” Colton sounded off and joined the fray. He raised the bolt-action and pumped his fist into the air with his hand clenching the fore stock.
Reggie was less enthusiastic and simply shook his head while slinging the shotgun over his shoulder. “Ya’ll are wild, but yeah, let’s do this.”
The three of them loaded the big red pickup truck with Maxson driving. Pulling out of the garage, Yargan would step in front of the truck to stop them. He stared at them looking as menacingly as always, but had no words to give them any context for his actions.
“What the hell is this maniac doing?” Colton asked.
Yargan slowly walked towards the car and stared at Colton. Colton gripped the rifle in his hands.
“Easy…” Maxson said to Colton.
To everyone’s relief, Yargan passed the passenger side and opened the backdoor. Reggie had to hop over the other side, but Yargan hopped into the back. He nodded to the other three men and did his best to smile, but it was barely noticeable under stone silent bearded face.
“But he doesn’t have a gun,” Colton said.
“Yargan doesn’t need a gun,” Maxson grunted.
Yargan grunted back.
The truck rolled off and took the long gravel trail that was the home’s only paved entrance and exit. Turning onto the main road it would finally take the four men on their way.
booker’s achilles
The four men traveled down the back roads of the outskirts of Rockport that were lined with woods and splotched with open green acres, perfect for farming. They passed an intersection and an abandoned home that they had already rummaged through, but was practically empty before they started. Their trip would soon be coming to the halfway point since they wouldn’t need to go deep into the middle of the city which would take an additional twenty minutes each way. Booker’s Pharmacy was isolated and was fairly safe compared to the small city of Rockport that had been overran by the dead fairly fast after the collapse.
Maxson could still remember seeing the dead funneling up the staircase of the Rockport building he lived in. The elevator was broken and his only means was to use the fire escape to exit. Some of his neighbors were too old to climb down and would eventually become imprisoned in the death trap of a building. The whole city had been riddled with death traps.
The group passed the halfway marker between their home and their destination. It was an abandoned semi-truck that had showed up mysteriously one month ago. The group had never found out who drove the truck as it had been left by the driver and Colton lost his tracks leading off into the woods. It was a conventional diesel engine rig that had a long, squared hood with a big chrome grill on the front that had hauled lots of character. Its grill had been made custom and had a silhouette of a beautiful femininely curvaceous figure posing on all fours that reminded Maxson of Catalina every time, due to its hourglass shape. Without a trailer, the eighteen-wheeler was down to six. Maxson assumed the trailer was ditched to conserve precious fuel.
“That Charlotte Reynolds is a real hotty, ain’t she?”, Colton asked the car.
The car remained silent until Maxson said, “She’s pretty.
“Reggie?” Colton said to the back.
“I’m married.” Remind Reggie.
“Man, aside from Yargie, ya’ll are a real lackluster bunch to talk to, “Colton said. Nobody argued that to Colton’s dissatisfaction as he fidgeted around the car’s air settings. Looking for mischief he finally asked. “Maxson. I gotta’ ask. It’s about Southern Belle. Are you hittin’ that?”
“Shut up,” Maxson replied bluntly.
Colton put a CD into the stereo player, oblivious to the semi-truck that they all had become accustomed to seeing on their treks. The music started with a guitar riff from a rock and roll song that was a classic, even to the three men in their thirties that were traveling inside the red pickup truck.
“C’mon, I ain’t judgin’ ya,” Colton said.
“She’s almost half my age and she lost her father That Night,” Maxson hated even mentioning it and his tone shifted solemnly when he said those words. He would never forget them both, a father and his own brother making the ultimate sacrifice.
The pressure of letting them down eating away at him with each passing failure; especially with Kenneth Banks who was Belle’s father. Catalina could take care of herself, but Belle was still so young, beautiful and capable of being taken advantage in this cold new world for those same reasons.
“And you’re not even close to double her age.”, Rejected Colton.
Close enough, Maxson didn’t say it aloud and remained silent attempting to ignore his friend’s poking.
“Konrad seems to think you are,” Added Colton, not knowing when to quit.
“Now why would you say that?” Maxson looked over at Colton while driving down the open stretch of road.
“What?” Colton was coy, but unconvincing.
“You know what,” Maxson’s eyes narrowed.
“Ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of, that girl is all legs and Old Law dictates that she’s legal now. I know that if I had the chance to, I would definitely at least–,” Colton was interrupted.
“Don’t finish that thought out loud,” Threatened Maxson as his friend’s loose lips. While Colton thought about Belle, Maxson could only think about his brother, Belle’s father and now Because of Colton, Konrad. All three of the thoughts were unpleasant and continued to eat away at him.
“I’m just sayin’, Max!” Colton insisted, oblivious to Maxson’s discomfort. “Whatev
er, I’m still going to test my luck with that Charlotte. She’s the hottest one of them all.”
Reggie finally bellowed at Colton, “Will you shut the fuck up already? It’s not enough we’re crammed up one another’s asses at that farmhouse, can’t we all have some sort of privacy? Or at least some silence?”
Yargan grunted during the silence.
Colton looked disappointed, but also defeated by Reggie’s abruptness. He slumped back into his seat to stare out the bar covered window, silently pouting like a child. His finger rubbing up and down the rubber sealing of the truck’s window.
“Besides, Maxson,” Reggie began. “I’ve got something I want to bring up with you guys.”
“Is that right?” Maxson’s eyes searched the horizon that was clear of any danger. He knew what Reggie was about to say, but figured he might as well hear him out. No reason to let him know what he had learned from his time observing the group. “And what is it that you want to bring up?”
“Our spot… it’s falling apart on us. I know it. You know it. We all do,” Reggie stated as a matter of fact.
“All of us think that? Are you sure about that one?” Maxson could tell that Reggie wasn’t catching on and added another subtle hint of his implication. “Or does just one of you strongly feel that way?”
“What’re you trying to say? Cut through all the bullshit,” Reggie wasn’t one to beat around the bush.
“Catalina put you up to this.” Maxson said, didn’t ask.
“Yeah. She talked to Inez and I. So?” Confirmed Reggie with a tone that hinted defensiveness.
“Those two sure do seem to have lots of ideas about what should be done,” Maxson thought out loud.
“Normally, out of principle, I don’t agree with them,” Reggie’s dry sense of humor came through. “But I gotta’ say… after trying to repair that roof with Pete, I’m in agreement. We gotta’ move on soon.”
“What happened to bros before hoes?” Maxson quipped.
“Don’t ask me. Didn’t you hear me before? I’m married,” Reggie reminded again.
