The Deadland Chronicles (Book 2): The Undead Horde

by Spears, R. J.

  Once he and Mason made it off the road, Casey ducked down and stopped firing. The two men made their way to her to re-group.

  “Who is that out there?” Casey asked. Her breathing was fast and shallow. “Why are they shooting at us?”

  “Slow down,” Donovan said. “You’re going to hyperventilate.”

  She closed her eyes, and he watched as she deliberately calmed herself. All of his people had been given weapons training, but almost none of them had been in an all-out firefight. If he hadn’t been in Iraq years before, he was sure he would have been close to panic himself.

  “I don’t know who they are,” Donovan said. “Probably just road bandits.”

  “What do they want?” she asked.

  “What we have,” Mason said. “Who knows what they’d do to us if they got it.”

  “Well, there’s no way I’m letting that happen,” Donovan said.

  “Should we just hide in the woods?” Casey asked.

  “We can’t do that,” Donovan said. “If we abandon our vehicles out on the road, they’ll take everything we have. With what’s coming behind us, they might as well just kill us.”

  “But how can we defend anything?” Casey asked. “We only have a handful of weapons, and we have no idea how many attackers we’re up against.”

  Donovan leveled his eyes at her, “We don’t have a lot of choice. Besides, Jo and Del can help if they don’t have their hands full.”

  Clayton’s firing had locked the two men down behind the dune buggy. Any time one of them tried to make a run for it, he ticked off a couple shots, and they’d move back behind cover.

  That worked well until a volley of bullets came from the right of the truck. One smacked into the back window, shattering glass into the cabin and causing the Benton sisters to yelp in fear.

  Clayton ducked down so fast, he lost his balance and toppled onto Noah, who broke his fall again.

  “Shit,” Clayton said. “I gotta quit doing that.”

  Ryan peered over the edge of the pickup and said, “Clayton, there’s a couple guys off in the trees.” His voice shook a little as he said it.

  “Well, fucking shoot at them,” Clayton said.

  Ryan hesitated, but Madison did not. She rose up, placed her elbows on the edge of the truck, took a second to aim, and burned through her magazine. Smoke rolled out the end of the barrel, and she could swear she heard a man cry out in pain in the woods.

  Ryan looked over to Madison a little wide-eyed.

  “It’s not hard,” she said. “You just aim and pull the trigger. You’ll get the hang of it.”

  Clayton pushed himself up to a kneeling position and said, “Both of you keep an eye out that way. Anything moves, shoot the shit out of it. Okay?”

  Both of them nodded, and Clayton peeked into the back seat and asked, “You ladies alright?”

  Clara’s voice sounded a little shaky. “I think we’re doing fine. Just a little intense, I guess.”

  “Just keep your head down,” Clayton replied.

  “Clayton?” Clara asked.

  “Yes, ma’am?” Clayton asked.

  “You need to watch your cursing. There are children in the truck.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Clayton said. He looked to Nick, Nora, and Noah and said, “Sorry, things got a little intense.”

  “It’s alright,” Nora said.

  Clayton stood back up and looked over the cab just in time to see one of the men make a dash for the woods on the right side of the road. The man was sprinting full-out, chugging away, his rifle in one hand and a small bag in the other.

  Clayton tried to draw a bead on him, but the man had too much of a head start. He disappeared into the tree line before Clayton could get off a shot.

  Clayton started to say, “Shi….shoot.”

  Madison asked, “What is it?”

  “One of them just ran into the woods,” Clayton said. “I think the other guy is still there. The driver hasn’t moved since I started shooting. I’m guessing he’s dead or badly wounded because there’s no way I’d still be sitting there, so score one for the good guys.”

  Gunshots sounded off to the right, and Clayton was forced to duck again, but this time, both Ryan and Madison responded quickly. They fired spaced out shots, and no one responded.

  Jones spoke from the driver’s seat, “Everyone hold on. I’m going to take us down the slope to the left. That’ll take us below a direct sightline from the right.”

  Clayton spoke up, “But that’ll take us out from behind the truck. And that’s saved our ass up ‘til now.”

  “How many shooters are out in front now?” Jones asked.

  “One,” Clayton replied. “Unless the driver’s still in shape to do anything. Which I doubt.”

  “How many are off in the woods to our right?” Jones asked.

  “I don’t know,” Clayton said, sounding a little pissed off.

  “More than a few?” Jones asked.

  “Yeah, no doubt.”

  “We’re moving,” Jones said. “Hold on folks, this will get a little bumpy.

  With that, everyone in the truck grabbed onto anything they could, and Jones took them off-roading.

  Chapter 10

  In the Woods

  Being raised out in the country, Del was usually at peace in the woods. It was where he had spent most of his days as a boy. Playing hide and seek with his few friends, catching turtles and other wild creatures, and generally having a good time.

  This was not one of those times. There were people in these woods that wanted to shoot him.

  The attacker who had run off the road earlier looked heavily armed with a rifle and possibly a couple handguns. Things had happened so fast it was hard to catch any detail. All Del knew was that it only took one gun and one bullet for him to get killed. So, he moved cautiously through the woods, listening and stopping every twenty seconds to see if he could spot any movement.

  That had been his process for over three minutes until he caught a figure moving among the trees. It was just a form. The trees and foliage were so thick it was hard to make out any detail. He’d catch the figure for a second, and it would disappear from view, then it would reappear, moving parallel with the road, toward where their caravan had stopped.

  Putting two and two together, Del guessed that this was the attacker who had run into the woods. Had he been on their side, he would have done the same thing. Get into the woods and circle around to flank your enemy. It was a classic and time-honored tactic.

  The only reason Del didn’t shoot immediately was that the figure was just too far away. Sure, he might get lucky and hit the guy, but it was more than likely his bullets would just bounce off a tree and then he would have given up his position.

  No, it was better to keep following and close the gap then decide whether to shoot the guy.

  Del didn’t envision himself as any kind of Indian tracker, but his familiarity with the woods and a childhood spent hunting game had given him a light touch. He was able to move along fairly quietly as he tracked the figure moving east-to-west. The bed of dry leaves on the ground didn’t help, but he did the best he could to mitigate any of the overt crackling, either by stepping around the deeper piles or softening how his foot landed.

  Moving along stealthily slowed him down, and twice during his pursuit, he nearly lost the figure as it disappeared behind trees. In those moments, Del would stop and wait, looking for any tell-tale movement.

  The figure slid into view again, a little further away, and Del would be forced to move faster than he wanted, sacrificing stealth for speed. The tree cover was a little less dense in this area, providing a little more light.

  The attacker definitely had an assault rifle of some type. There was at least one handgun on his left hip and possibly another one on the other side. He also had a bushy head of hair, but that wasn’t the focus of Del’s attention. The guns were.

  What he could tell about the man was that he was pretty good at handlin
g himself. He hadn’t made any overt noises as he moved among the trees. This made him think the man may have been former military or an experienced hunter, too. Del hoped that he could have at least one advantage over the man, but that was out the window.

  Del continued on, tracking the man as quickly as he could. The switch to speed cost him as he stepped on a small fallen tree limb. It snapped under his foot, sounding like a gunshot. The man stopped, and Del made a quick pivot to duck behind a tree to get out of view.

  The move was a double-edged sword, though. While it got him out of view, he also couldn’t see the man any longer. Therefore, he couldn’t know if the man had decided to backtrack to check out the sound.

  Del lowered himself to one knee, counted to ten in his head, then slowly slid his head around the tree. What he saw was nothing but trees. No man. No movement.

  He had lost the guy. That meant the man was either heading for an attack on the backside of the convoy, or he was coming back to check out what made the sound. Neither were good options in Del’s opinion.

  Jo was back in the woods again, searching for people who were trying to kill her and her friends.

  Some things never get old, she thought. She let out a quiet chuckle and wondered if she might be close to cracking up. Were there limits to what a human could take? Was facing death every day just too much?

  She scanned the woods, looking for any movement. She wanted to shout for Del but didn’t want to give away her position. Something moved forty yards off to her right, a dark form masked in the darkness brought on by the thick canopy overhead. There was no telling if it was Del, the man who had run into the woods, or one of the other attackers.

  The form disappeared behind a series of tree trunks, so she started off in a parallel path to it. She projected its trajectory and kept glancing that way while trying to keep as quiet as possible. This was a nearly impossible task with a thick cover of dried leaves spread across the forest floor, but she kept going.

  Ten yards later, she caught another glimpse of movement, but it was off the path she had set for the first form. She came to a stop and tried to get a better picture of it, but like the first one, it slid out of view behind some tree trunks.

  She decided to keep tracking the first form and started moving back along the parallel path, gliding as silently as she could. The trees were bunched tightly together in this section of the woods, causing her to have to zigzag around them. An exposed root nearly caught her foot, and she stumbled along for two steps. She was forced to reach out to one of the trees to catch herself. She cursed under her breath, knowing she must have sounded like an elephant rampaging along.

  The rustling of leaves came from off to her right, but she knew it could have just as well been a squirrel or some other woodland creature. Or it could have been someone wanting to kill her. It was enough to make her want to head back onto the road, but if Del was out there, couldn’t she take the same risk.

  She started forward again, focusing again on that projected path of the first person she saw. Just ahead, she saw a break in the canopy of leaves overhead. Sunlight dappled on the floor of the forest, so bright after the shadows, she had to squint her eyes.

  A broad oak tree was just ahead, and she decided she was going to use that to reorient herself. She sidled up to it and edged around it, hoping to catch another glimpse of the form.

  She pushed her head around the trunk. There was nothing but more forest ahead. Trees, bushes, and dead leaves. No form. No movement.

  It was time to pull back and regroup again. Just as she did that, she felt a bank safe drop onto her left shoulder, causing her to drop her rifle. She went down onto all fours, panting for breath. Her vision swam with a sea of dark waters as she struggled to stay conscious.

  She felt a foot against her side, and the next thing she knew, she was rolling across the forest floor. When she finally stopped rolling, she was on her back and looking up at a broad-shouldered man with a bushy head of hair. He held a rifle that looked as big as a cannon, and it was aimed right at her face.

  “Don’t you move an inch, bitch, or I will blow your head off.”

  Chapter 11

  Road Work

  “Spread out,” Donovan said. “Anyone without a weapon, take cover behind the trees. Anyone with one, stay up at the tree line. Keep your eyes on the vehicles. Anyone comes for them, shoot ’em.”

  “They’re just cars,” Troy said.

  “No, they are not,” Donovan said. “They are our one and only ride out of here. Unless you want to walk.”

  That shut Troy up.

  Casey said, “I can barely see the trailer.” She stood on her tiptoes to get some elevation, but her view wasn’t much better.

  “Mason, go down and see what’s up with the truck,” Donovan said. “I’ll cover you.”

  Mason took off running along the tree line in a half-crouch, taking glances up at the road as he did.

  Donovan maintained his aim toward the tractor, switching between watching it and covering Mason. Because it was the tallest vehicle on the road, it stood above the lip of the road above him. He knew he didn’t have the best vantage point to guard the caravan. Sure, he had his people safe in the woods, but they had to protect the vehicles. The only way to do that was to climb the slope and take up sentry positions.

  “Casey, are you willing come up with me and to guard the vehicles?” Donovan asked.

  Casey’s eyes fell for a moment but then came back up. “Why not? Troy, you willing to help us?”

  “No way,” Troy said. “No way I’m getting shot for a damn tractor.”

  She shot him a sideways glance and just shook her head. “Whatever.”

  A voice came from behind them. “I can go with you guys.”

  Both Donovan and Casey looked back at a young man with a swarthy complexion and jet black hair. His name was Eddie Morales, and he was barely eighteen-years-old.

  “Eddie, you sure you’re up for this?” Donovan asked. “We may have to shoot people.”

  “They’ve already shot at us,” Eddie said.

  “All you have is a handgun,” Casey said.

  “I can shoot, and you need people,” Eddie said.

  Donovan surveyed him and saw a kid. Not much older than his own son, who was off in the East with the rest of his people.

  He also knew it was obvious that Eddie was scared, but he also saw that he was standing up and wanted to be counted. He needed more people like that.

  “There’s no time to debate your readiness. We have to go,” Donovan said. “You stick with Casey and head for the jeep. Anyone tries to take it, you smoke’em. I’ll guard the tractor. Now, let’s go.”

  He didn’t wait and moved along in a half-crouch until he reached what he thought was the best approach angle for guarding the tractor. Once he made it there, he glanced back at Casey and Eddie and waved for them to move.

  They went into the same half-crouch that Donovan had used and moved along the edge of the tree line. Once they were in position, they looked back to Donovan. He waved for them to move up, and he slowly started up the slope toward the roadway. They did the same thing only a second behind him.

  Donovan half-expected a barrage of bullets when his head crested the top of the slope, exposing the open road with their little caravan parked on it. When he poked his head up, no bullets came his way. The woodland creatures, which had been silent during the shootout, were starting to make their presence known again. The birds chirped away as if nothing had happened.

  He looked back down the road and saw Mason closing on the truck. He could also see Clayton leaning over the top of the cab, aiming at something down the road.

  He returned his attention to Casey and Eddie, who were mirroring him, standing at the edge of the road, their heads poked up like periscopes, watching for any activity. After a few seconds, they looked his way. He held up his index finger, telling them to wait, pointed at himself, and then at the road.

  He sucked in two deep brea
ths, much like a swimmer about to go under, and then sprinted onto the road and across it until he got behind the oversized back wheel of the tractor. He looked back to Casey and Eddie and again held up his hand in a stop gesture. He felt a tightness in his chest, something between butterflies of anxiety and outright fear.

  He slipped his head around the big wheel and peered into the woods. Nothing moved as far as he could tell. Of course, that didn’t mean there wasn’t a sharpshooter slowly centering his head in his crosshairs right then. Just to be safe, he withdrew his head and moved along the wheel to look around the other side.

  Still nothing.

  It was as if the men had either pulled back or left entirely. He continued to take peeks, listening intently the whole time. The birds continued to chirp away, and a gentle breeze blew through the leaves of the trees.

  He pulled back behind the tire again and looked in Casey and Eddie’s way again. Through a series of hand gestures, he directed them to head back to the jeep.

  Just as they stepped onto the road, the unmistakable rumble of engines could be heard in the woods, sounding like they were coming from the other side of the road block. Donovan shot out a hand, telling them to back up. They quickly complied and eased back off the road, kneeling in a holding pattern but looking in the direction of the sounds.

  Donovan followed the sound with his eyes, tracking it as it moved away from his position, the volume of the sound decreasing. He couldn’t help himself as his curiosity got the best of him as he eased from behind the tractor to get a better view point down the road. Even then, he had to take three steps to his right to see around the overturned truck.

  Something told him that it was safe. The woods were empty of attackers.

  He stared down the road, and the rumble of the engines got louder. Two seconds later, a jacked-up monster pickup truck broke from the tree line, bounded up the slope, and bounced onto the roadway. Two men hung over the bed of the pickup, holding rifles and ripping off shots. None of them were very well aimed, the shots flying wildly in the air.