Zombie Road (Book 2): Bloodbath on the Blacktop

by David A. Simpson

  Tommy and Kim-Li were setting up in the light industrial district but he didn’t think that would last for long. He’d seen her and Scratch cozying up this past few weeks. He could see Preacher doing marriages soon instead of funerals. That would gladden his heart. Tommy also knew she’d be leaving him soon to start her own family. Scratch and Kim were probably the only two that thought it was still a secret. Tommy’s wife had died years ago. He never went looking for another and didn’t figure he had much chance of finding one now. The men outnumbered the women five to one so he didn’t look for a house. He chose a small warehouse on the outskirts of town that had some of the things he considered important. Large bays, big parking lot, offices in the back that could be extended and made into a bachelor’s pad. Or Man Cave as they were called these days.

  There were over a thousand houses and a few hundred apartments in town and only about 200 people. Everyone got what they wanted. By noon, they had reported for their work details and the business of setting up a new Capital of America had started.

  Tommy had been running around town, measuring the wheel widths of various vehicles and when he found a few Ford trucks that would work, he drove them back to his new shop. He started making the modifications on them for the crew that was going to Dallas. Tommy’s mechanics swung by once they’d claimed houses. They unloaded the trailers of the equipment they brought with them, fired up generators and welders, and then got to work on the rail trucks. By late afternoon, he had a working truck that he’d adapted to run on the train tracks. The system to raise and lower the rail wheels was a little crude but it worked. Once the first one was finished, the second and third would go pretty quick, now that he knew what he was doing. He was going to work on the hydraulics to raise and lower the wheels while the others armored the trucks, added sunroofs as emergency escape hatches and generally tried to make them zombie proof. They should be able to finish them by tomorrow.

  They had talked about making the trucks rail only, no ability to raise and lower the steel wheels but it all came back to the danger factor. What if they needed to get off the tracks and drive. What if they didn’t have time to look for a car and keys. The retractable wheels might set them back another day but it was worth it. Gunny kept telling himself he was no good to Lacy if he got sloppy and got himself killed. He could wait. They were safe.

  It was a two-hundred-mile trip to Dallas by roads and they had no idea how far it would be by rail or if there were any trains stopped on the tracks that would need to be moved. After consulting with Carl about every obstacle he could think of that they might run into, they rounded up drums of diesel in case the locomotives had idled for days and ran out of fuel. They raided the auto parts store for batteries in case they were dead. They staged sets of hand tools in case they were needed and dozens of straps to tie down the Container Fork Lifts to the rail car.

  By late evening, they had gathered everything they thought they would need. The trucks they were going to use were all sourced and being built in Tommy’s Garage. Wire Bender said he’d be over tomorrow to gear them up with radios stripped out of a few of the big rigs. They had gone over plans and contingencies and Carl had told them everything he knew about switching tracks manually. They had found long prybars to move them with since there was no electricity. They had sawzall’s and extra batteries fully charged and ready in case they needed to do any metal cutting. The mechanics would meet back here in the morning to help Tommy finish up the trucks and get them loaded. With a little luck, they would be heading to Dallas in two days.

  Just as they were getting ready to go their separate ways, head back to their new homes and start to get settled in, the radio on Gunny’s belt crackled.

  “You guys need to come see this.” One of the guards said. “Tell the SS Sisters to get out here, too. We’re on the south side of town, on the main road.”

  “You need backup?” Gunny said into the two-way. “Is there a horde coming in?”

  “No, no. Nothing like that. There’s just one but it’s acting weird. The Sisters will probably want to see it.”

  “We’re on the way.” Stacy cut in over her radio and Lars glanced over at Stabby.

  “Uh, oh.” he said “You might be in trouble if they heard what he called them.”

  “They won’t know it was me started calling them that.” Stabby said. “I’m safe.”

  “Dude, they’ll know it was one of us.” Scratch said as they headed out for their cars. “And I ain’t taking the blame. Not from them two.”

  The rest of what they had to say was lost to Griz and Gunny as they climbed into his pickup but they had to laugh about it. They seemed genuinely afraid of the girls.

  When they pulled up to the guards a few minutes later, Sara and Stacy were already there and watching a woman twitch on the ground. She was out in a field near the tree line, maybe a hundred yards from the road. They were all gathered a safe distance from her, guns at the ready but just staring.

  She was definitely one of the undead. She had one arm ravaged with chunks missing from it and old blood dried and flaking away from the wounds. Her clothes were ripped and torn, hanging in shreds. Her hair was a tangled, filthy mess, the Auburn now muddy and crawling with small insects. The twitching slowed as they watched until it finally subsided completely. After a moment, she sprang up with a growl, curled her hands into claws and started to run for them. Guns came up instinctively but before anyone fired she froze in place, eyes wide and unseeing, her arms stiff. She started shaking all over, her mouth clamping tightly shut on her already shredded lips and broken teeth. She fell over sideways and her whole body shook violently.

  “Ok, that’s creepy.” Lars said, pushing his sunglasses up on his head and holstering his Beretta.

  As they watched, the tremors slowly subsided then stilled. She was maybe thirty. Pretty at a few weeks ago. The remnants of her torn jeans and sweater made her look like she’d been a soccer mom. The bite marks on her arm were small. A child’s, perhaps. She leaped to her feet again, snarling through her wrecked mouth and lunging for them. She only made it a single step before the whole process started again with the stiffening of her body, the violent shaking, then falling to the ground.

  “Epilepsy?” Sara asked. “In a constant reset pattern?”

  “Looks like it.” Stacy said. “Curious. It seems brain disorders are still intact.”

  Curious? Not the word Gunny would have chosen. Strangely pathetic or maybe epically sad would have been his choice. From the looks of her, she’d been going through this process ever since she turned. There were cuts and abrasions all over her body. Various bits of broken sticks were poking out of her in a dozen different places where she’d impaled herself on them. Her teeth were all broken off and she’d bitten through her tongue completely. It was missing. He had to feel a little sorry for her, even if she was a monster. The tremors subsided and she sprang for them but only made it a few feet before the process began again. He started walking towards her and when she was lying helpless on the ground going through a cycle of tremors, he quickly plunged his knife in her ear, stilling them forever. Somehow it didn’t feel like he was stopping a dangerous threat. More like stomping on a kitten.

  Gunny said nothing as he headed back to his pickup, just nodded in acknowledgment when the guard said he’d radio for the meat wagon to take it to the burial pit. Everyone looked the same way he felt. Why had killing that one been so hard?

  Chapter 30

  Trouble in Lakota

  Day 16

  Martha had laid claim to the Sunshine Cafe on Main Street in the heart of the little town. Her and Cookie had cleaned it and had one of the generators out back giving them power. One of the first things they did, even before they started cooking, was set up the missing man table near the entrance. It had more meaning now than ever before. It wasn’t just soldier’s families who were missing someone at the table, it was everyone. The diner was too small to seat everyone at the same time but the weather was beautiful a
nd with a light jacket it was comfortable enough to eat outside. They had set up some folding tables in the town square and after everyone had got their plates of food from the diner, mess hall style, they went outside to eat.

  Casey and the contingent of men with him were the last ones to show up. Nearly everyone else had already eaten and left to get started on the long list of tasks that still needed to be done or rotate out to pull guard duty.

  Gunny was in Griz’s Gun shop using the natural light from the picture windows overlooking the town square. He was helping him tear down, clean, customize and test the weapons they were going to be taking to Dallas. Griz was grumbling good-naturedly about there not being any Saigas or SRM revolving magazine shotguns as he happily modified the half dozen Hatfield 12 gauges they had picked up from Wal-Mart. He was adding better trigger control, larger capacity magazine tubes and modified grips. The boys were there pestering him, generally cutting up and being annoying but it was all in good fun.

  Gunny had seen Collins roust the men out of Pretty Boy Floyd’s, one of the local watering holes, and they didn’t look none too happy about it. They looked surly and hungover as they stumbled over to the tables with their plates of food and listlessly picked at them. It was obvious they hadn’t bothered to get cleaned up or find fresh clothes yesterday. They’d probably found the bar and had been drinking all day and half the night. The remaining people there, a few ladies and their children, hurriedly finished up and left. Casey’s group had grown from just a few to a dozen unkempt men. Long term drunks from the looks of them. Unkempt men who were that way before all this began. All day barflies or meth heads. He wondered how they survived the outbreak, if they drank like this all the time. Gunny barely recognized any of them, they were all newcomers. He hoped this was just a one-time thing. Celebrate their arrival hard and loud then get down to the business of rebuilding. People could change. Become a better person than they were before. There was too much to get done and it was way too dangerous to think things were going to go back to the old way of living. Maybe in a few weeks, once the town was fully secured, people could lay around and do nothing. But until then everyone was needed. Cobb had a third of the men pulling guard over the entire perimeter they had mapped out. It was a little overkill. Gunny thought. but the old man wasn’t taking any chances. Whole towns had been decimated in a matter of hours. They had fought too hard to get here to get sloppy and wiped out.

  He watched as Deputy McBride walked up to the men a few minutes later with a clipboard, obviously their work assignments. They didn’t seem to like what he was saying and after an exchange of words, Casey knocked the clipboard out of his hands. The papers were sent flying, fluttering in the breeze. The deputy yelled something at them and dropped his hand to his gun. Half the men had theirs out of their holsters and pointing at him within seconds, before he had time to draw. He had been bluffing. They weren’t.

  “Hello!” Scratch hollered up to Gunny. “You deaf?”

  He ignored them, continued watching the drama play out. He wasn’t going to stick his nose in police business unless he was needed. Collins wouldn’t forgive him so easily if he stepped on her toes twice. She was striding across the street from the Sheriff’s station where she’d set up office, pointing and telling the men to lower their weapons. She didn’t have hers drawn. Chicks got balls, Gunny thought. Griz and the boys came up to the window to see what held him so enthralled. When he saw her marching straight up to a dozen men, half of them with their guns drawn, he swore and ran back into the shop to grab one of the shotguns he’d modified.

  Gunny stood in the door staring across the road as Collins stopped in front of the men, his M-4 hanging on its single point sling at his side

  When Griz and the boys came barreling up, Gunny stopped them. “Hold it, guys. Let her do this her way.”

  “What if they hurt her?” Griz said nearly in a panic, trying to push past.

  “They won’t.” Gunny said. “They’re cowards. Trust me on this, Bro. Just stand easy and follow my lead.”

  Griz nodded after a moment and lowered the 12 gauge, letting it hang loosely by his side. Gunny glanced at the other three and they did the same.

  Across the street, Collins was pointing at one of the last men who still had his gun drawn. The rest had already lowered them but none had re-holstered.

  Gunny ambled out of the door, the little bell above it tinkling merrily. He ignored the scene across the road only a few dozen yards away. He walked down the sidewalk a few paces then leaned against the building, one foot kicked behind him on it, and pulled out his tobacco pouch. Griz sat down on the bench in front of his store and casually crossed his legs, the heavily modified shotgun laid across them. The boys walked over to the other side of the door and started playing rock, paper scissors, also ignoring the men across the street. But Lars was packing all four of his Berettas and Scratch and Stabby both had their spikes on. Gunny noticed other people coming out of the store fronts. Cobb had his Garand slung across his shoulder as he stepped outside the diner and fired up a Lucky. Cookie stepped out to join him and just happened to have a massive meat cleaver in his hand. Sammy was unloading the trunk of his Mad Max Mustang and kept pulling out one gun after another and lining them up on the roof, all of them pointing towards the men. More and more people stepped out the businesses they had claimed or from the apartments above them, all of them heavily armed. They said nothing, made no threatening gestures, but followed Gunny’s lead. They just made their presence known and pretended to ignore the men in the town square. Even Bastille came out and awkwardly tried to act at ease with the hunting rifle he was carrying. Gunny smiled as he fired up his hand rolled. Even he had come to his senses and was trying to fit in.

  The men in the square had noticed the gathering people, most of them silent and pretending to ignore them. They glanced nervously at them, at the weapons they were carrying, at their apparent calm. This was creepy. Some Children of the Corn stuff. Casey wasn’t telling the Sheriff she could shove the job roster up her ass anymore. Some of them were thinking maybe getting plastered last night wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe hanging out with Casey might be bad for their health.

  Casey was nearly apoplectic with rage, his face red, his goatee quivering and his hands just itching to grab this uppity bitch around her self-righteous neck and strangle the life out of her. GAWD but he would love to smash her face in, turn it into a bloody, toothless unrecognizable mess. Maybe give her the old in and out while he was doing it. Teach her a lesson. The Good Casey in his head was screaming at him to calm down. This wasn’t the time or the place. They had him in checkmate. He needed to play nice with the slag one more time. Do what she wanted, he’d have the last laugh yet. He’d hear her crying for mercy and choking on her own blood and teeth as he worked her over with a pipe wrench. He’d pick the right time. Right now wasn’t it. He needed to catch her alone.

  Finally, Good Casey prevailed and he smiled his most ingratiating and smarmy smile. He apologized. It was the liquor, you see. Yes ma’am. He wasn’t going to be drinking anymore. He agreed, he probably did have a little drinking problem. He apologized again and started picking up the papers he had knocked out of the deputy’s hands. Yes ma’am, he’d report for guard duty right away. Sorry again ma’am. You won’t have any more trouble out of us, right guys?

  Collins watched them go, leaving their plates on the table for someone else to clean up. She thought about calling them back but just started gathering them herself. Pick your battles, Billy Travaho had told her. Sometimes it was best to let the other guy win a small victory.

  “That sumbitch is going to be trouble.” Griz said, staring a hole in the back of Casey’s head as he walked towards the edge of town.

  “No, he won’t.” Gunny said quietly. “I’m going to pay him a little visit tonight. Suggest that it might be best if he left town, find someplace else to live.”

  “I’m coming with you.” Griz said cracking his knuckles “And I hope he gives you som
e lip.”

  It was two o’clock in the morning when he and Griz opened the door to Pretty Boy Floyd’s. They had given them one last chance. One last opportunity to go claim a house, get cleaned up and try to fit in. Instead, they had decided to start drinking again the minute they were off guard duty. Gunny wasn't sure how this would go down. He didn’t want any killing on the boy’s consciences if that’s how it had to be so they hadn’t told them about this late-night visit. Casey was behind the bar holding court, still in his dirty clothes and serving up drinks to the dozen or so men that were there. Some of them were already passed out in the booths or on the pool tables. Only a handful still held onto their seats at the bar. It was easy to drink too much too fast when everything was free.

  “Mr. President!” he boomed mockingly when he noticed them and spread his arms wide. “What brings you to my fine establishment? I didn’t think one such as you would lower yourself to join those such as us.”

  Griz broke right along the wall and disappeared into the shadows, his M-4 cocked and locked, ready to do business.

  “Keep your hands above the bar, Casey.” Gunny said as he approached it.

  The jocular tone left his voice as he slowly lowered them.

  “We ain’t bothering nobody.” he said peevishly. He was trying to watch both of them but the big man had faded into the darkness where the candle light didn’t penetrate. He didn’t know where he was but he knew he had that assault rifle and it was probably pointed at him. Gunny stopped a few paces from the bar. Far enough away to draw his gun and have a clear shot if needed. This wasn’t lost on Casey and he licked his lips then dropped the friendly façade.

  “What do you want?” he demanded “That sheriff send you? You can’t come in here and tell me what to do. I claimed this bar fair and square, just like everybody else.”

  “After I walk out of here,” Gunny said ignoring his questions “you have until sunrise. You and all of your friends need to be gone. Don’t ever come back.”