Colby shook his head as he started for the latch.
“Oh no you don’t!” she yelled. “Don’t you dare give up on me, Colby! I’ll figure a way out of this.”
The dogs circled and barked, some yapping more like coyotes than once domestic house pets. She knew the undead would pound at the windows until they turned to dust. They would circle the plane, limping, moaning, lusting after Colby’s flesh. Just how long the dogs would circle the wagons, she couldn’t say.
As she sat on the wing in the intense heat, she knew Roper would be sick with worry. This was supposed to be a simple flight and return. Now, it didn’t look like she’d make it to dusk––the sun made the metal heat up so much it was difficult to sit down. She would burn out here if she stayed on the hot metal much longer.
And it was only going to get hotter.
“God damn it.” She didn’t have much time left on the wing. Then what? What were her options? She couldn’t stay up where she was without frying like an egg in a cast iron skillet.
Colby rapped on the window. When she glanced over, he slid the tiny widow open a couple of inches. “You’ll die out there. I’m gonna open the hatch.”
“The hell you are,” she said, standing. “You give me a few minutes here, damn it.”
He shook his head. “The heat will kill you. Please.”
“No. I’ll think of something.” She looked down at her useless rifle lying out of reach.
The sun beat down on her back, the metal reflected the rays, and the moaning and barking got louder and louder. She was quickly running out of time and ideas.
Unlacing and pulling off her boot, Dallas put her foot down on the hot metal and immediately pulled it up. She would have to balance on the one foot if her plan was going to work.
She needed that rifle.
Tossing her boot as far as she could, the moment the pack took off for it, she jumped to the ground, grabbed her AK47, and sprayed bullets at the returning pack. She would never make it back up on the plane in time. She would have to kill them all now. One-by-one, the dogs yelped as they tasted her lead, until finally, a lone pit bull with an enormous head launched himself at her. Falling backwards but keeping the trigger depressed, Dallas just kept firing until the dog landed on her, twitched once, and then died on top of her.
Shoving the carcass off her, she gave Colby a thumbs up and then retrieved her boot before carefully dispatching the zombies one at a time with her machete. They were too close to the plane for her to shoot them, even up close, so she swung her machete over and over until the last zombie fell at her feet and Colby came busting out of the cockpit.
“Oh my God, you’re my hero! That was fucking rad!”
Dallas pushed the pit bull with the toe of her boot. “I think I burned my foot.”
“Butcher’ll fix you up when I get you back there.”
“Which will be when?”
“Give me another hour, hour and a half.”
“I’ll give you thirty minutes.” Something in the distance caught her eye, and she turned. On the horizon was some sort of a dust cloud four times bigger than the cloud the eaters had kicked up.
“Colby?”
He followed her gaze. “What is it?”
She shielded her eyes from the sun as she watched the something get closer. “I think they’re cars.”
“Cars? When’s the last time besides military we saw moving cars?”
“Long time. My guess is they’re coming after the plane.”
“Get your gun out, ‘cause they can’t have it.”
Dallas checked her weapon and shook her head. “I’m almost out.”
“Fuck.”
As the vehicles neared, Dallas counted five. Five moving vehicles coming toward them.
“Shoot first?” Colby asked.
“No. Get in the plane. Stay down. Let them think I’m alone. Never give up the element of surprise unless you have to. When you think you need to come out, wait a little longer. If you have to come out, come out guns blazing.”
Nodding, Colby did as he was told.
Dallas raised her rifle. The cars slowed, and Dallas could see two were trucks, one was a Jeep, and one was a Honda, and the third an SUV of some sort. They came to a stop, and the door to the Jeep opened.
“Keep your hands up in the air,” Dallas ordered. She was slightly surprised they hadn’t started shooting at her.
A large gentleman stepped out and put his hands in the air in surrender. “Ma’am, are you the one dropping these slips?” He raised his hands high above his head. “‘Cause we saw the flyers first, then watched your plane go down. Thought you might need some help.”
Dallas lowered her rifle a little.
“We just came to see if you need a hand, but clearly,” he jutted his chin toward all the carcasses, “you don’t really require any.”
“We have an oil leak,” she said by way of explanation. “It was an emergency landing.”
“Then maybe we can help. We came to see if you were okay and if you needed any assistance. We don’t want your plane.”
“Good, because you can’t have it.”
The very handsome, well-built young man chuckled as he nodded to his group. One-by-one, a total of twenty men exited the vehicles, all with their hands in the air. They could have been Chippendale dancers, they were that good looking. They all had shoulder-length hair, rows of white teeth, and fit bodies. Some had on tank tops, while others were bare-chested and sported finely tuned abs.
Not Chippendales, but close.
Dallas called for Colby, who rose from the cockpit. “Oh.” He chuckled. “They really don’t want our plane.”
Dallas shrugged. “Apparently not.”
“No ma’am, we don’t. We’re from Vegas,” the guy said. He stood slightly over six feet with blond JFK hair and blue eyes like tractor beams. A cleft chin and two deep dimples rounded out a soft face. “Dancers.”
“How did twenty Vegas dancers make it this long?” Dallas asked.
He laughed. “Twenty queens can be pretty damned resourceful—”
“Dallas,” she replied, shaking his hand. “He’s Colby.”
He nodded his “hey” to Colby, who did the same. “Tucker here. Well, we stayed in Vegas for as long as we could. There was a ton of food at first, and the lights mesmerized those things. It was safe until everything went to shit.”
“How long have you been on the road?”
“A month. We were headed to the military safe zone, but when we saw your flyers, we decided that was probably a better bet for a bunch of fudge packers.”
A laugh like a donkey braying leapt from Dallas’s mouth.
“The flyer says gays are safe. Is that why they don’t attack us?”
Dallas nodded and explained.
When she finished, he shook his head. “Well isn’t that harsh justice? We finally caught a break.”
“It’s more than catching a break, Tucker. I am creating a gay army to eradicate these things once and for all. You and your guys are more than welcome to come to Angola, but we need fighters…umm…well…”
Waving his guys over, he said, “Show her.”
Fifteen tank tops were raised to show finely tuned sets of six-pack abs. Biceps bulged, pecs hardened. It was a veritable fitness show.
“We haven’t exactly been sitting around eating bon bons.”
She grinned. “I can see that. Well, then, once we get the plane fixed, I can meet you in Angola.”
“There is only one thing, ma’am. The reason we took to the road is one of our guys is really sick. Not virus sick, internally sick.”
“Show me.” Dallas joined him.
Tucker and another helped a very gray-faced gay man out of the Jeep. Dallas didn’t need him to come any closer to know there was something really wrong with him.
“Oh crap. We’re using valuable time here,” she said to Tucker. “Have your guys load him into the plane. Colby will fix the leak and we’ll be on our way.”<
br />
Tucker looked dubious. “You’re just going to take him? I…I’m not sure we’re okay with that.”
“We have decent medical facilities, and I think he needs surgery.” Walking up to him, Dallas pressed on his abdomen and he cried out. “I’m thinking spleen. I used to be a firefighter. He needs help ASAP, so if you trust me, let me take him. I promise he’s in good hands, and I think we can fix him right up. You keep him, and he’ll die on the road.”
The guys took a vote, and it was decided that they would put the sick one in the plane and head on for Angola, but not before they assisted Colby in getting oil back into the plane and getting it back in the air.
Less than an hour later, Dallas, Colby, and Gregory headed back to Angola—to the comfort of a prison they now called home.
The new gays were called Chips because they looked so much like Chippendales. They turned out to be a blessing on so many levels. Tucker and his partner, Vance, owned one of the new casinos in Vegas, and they were the ones who got their guys through the city safely when all hell was breaking loose. The Chips took up the crossbow and bow like naturals, and their upper body strength was something to marvel at.
And there were plenty of other gays doing the marveling.
Dallas admired them so much she got them to agree to come to the next prison to get it up and running.
Three days after they came to Angola, Tucker asked to speak with Dallas, Roper, and Einstein.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“Your medical team saved Gregory from dying from that ruptured spleen, and that means a hell of a lot to me and the guys.”
“It’s what we do here, Tucker. No need to thank us.”
He shook his head, concern drawn on his face. “We owe you our loyalty, so please hear what I’m about to tell you as that and not some fag snitching some guys out.”
Dallas and Roper exchanged glances. “Okay.”
“That weird duck, Benjamin, came to Kyle this morning talking about a hostile takeover. Guess he thought a bunch of fairies would roll over easily. He guessed wrong. We’re gay, not lame. We’d never toss our fate in with that creepster peepster.”
Dallas slowly closed her eyes.
“He was making a big play for us, telling us all sorts of shit about being his own little army.” Tucker shuddered. “The dude creeps me out.”
Roper was already moving toward the door.
“Roper, wait.”
“Oh hell no, Dallas, that asshole—”
“I mean it. Wait. I don’t want a knee jerk reaction. Let’s think this through.”
“I’ll think it through after I kick his ass!”
Dallas held Roper’s arm. “No, you won’t. We need to talk this over with Butcher and Luke before we jump the gun and cause such a division among us.” To Tucker, she said, “I appreciate you coming to me with this. I really do. Your loyalty means a great deal to me. To us.”
He blushed. “It’s not entirely altruistic, Dallas. A group of our friends was going to meet us in Little Rock, and a bunch of us would like to go see if they…if they made it. ”
Dallas smiled. She really liked him. “Tell you what. Let me handle this thing with Benjamin, and then we can discuss it. You do know you’re free to go, right? You don’t have to ask.”
“I know, but the fellas really like it here. It’s safe—comfortable—and we can still perform. We never thought we’d have the chance to do that again, so that’s quite a bonus. Really.”
Dallas thanked him for his confidence and loyalty before calling a meeting.
They began meeting more and more, and that was when everyone realized how close they were to the time when Dallas would be leaving. She was making sure everything was set up and ready to go before pulling out, and though Roper and Butcher had tried on several occasions to get her to tell where she was thinking of going, she always put them off.
“I say we give Benjamin the boot,” Roper snapped. “We don’t need this kind of shit.”
“We’re not doing any of that,” Dallas replied, “because people have to feel free to disagree. It’s not a dictatorship.”
“No, but Roper’s right. It’s not healthy to have someone always shaking the leadership up,” Butcher said. “Some lead. Some follow. He wants to lead…even covets your power.”
“The fact that he’s gone after the newbies is what bothers me,” Einstein added. “He clearly has a game plan. I say we take all the subterfuge out of the equation and call him out on it.”
Dallas nodded. “Agreed. Maybe we could offer to help him on his way if he is so unhappy with my leadership, but he needs to know we know.” She cast a concerned eye over to an uncharacteristically quiet Roper. “Babe?”
“Sure. Bring him in on that. It worked so well the first time.”
When the meeting was adjourned, Roper was the first out the door. She had a promise to keep.
Roper’s Log
Letting Benjamin go was almost as dangerous as allowing him to stay. I had no doubt his first stop would be to the U.S. military. I wasn’t going to let that happen. Uh uh.
Call me an animal, call me barbaric, but putting that prick down was just as easy as putting down a sick calf. It was just a matter of waiting for the right time. It came shortly after we gave him his walking papers and opened the compound doors. I knew where he was heading, and I had no intention of letting him get there. Dallas was wrong this time, but instead of disagreeing with her, I just decided to handle it on my own.
I knew Dallas would never condone it, so I simply didn’t tell her. This was our first big disagreement since we’d met. I felt she was being too soft where Benjamin was concerned. He was a threat that could seriously hurt us if he gave the military our intel.
I wasn’t going to let him do that.
Neither was Butcher, who agreed with me that he needed to go.
Really go. The kind of go where you don’t return.
I found it interesting that only a handful of his people went with him. All six were fundamentalists who had made it clear there was still a Hell waiting for us.
I decided to show them that Hell was here and she rode a bay mare.
Butcher distracted Dallas while I rode Charger out of the gate only thirty minutes after giving Benjamin and the Christians the heave-ho. I managed to track them for about a mile, then I threw a noose around his neck, jumped off Charger, and drove my buck knife through his chest, eliminating a potential threat right in front of the others, who stood there, jaws agape.
“You…you murdered him in cold blood,” one irritating old woman said.
“Yep, and I’ll do the same to any of you should I ever see your faces again. No matter what happens, do not…I repeat…do not ever come back to Angola, or I will do the same to each and every one of you. You are going to rot in your own personal Hell, but you will not ever cast your judgmental eyes on me and mine. Are we clear?”
They all nodded.
Then I dumped Benjamin into the river and watched as a few soggy undead pulled his body under and had him for dinner.
Sitting astride Charger, I felt no guilt. No remorse. I did what needed to be done to keep us safe––yeah, I killed him in cold blood, with a buck knife through the heart. I did what Dallas would never do. I did what she couldn’t. I don’t blame her. She can’t start killing people who disagree with her.
That’s my job.
I have no regrets.
As we gear up to take a group to start another safe zone, I can’t believe how tired I always am. Surviving takes a great deal of energy, but we’ve really got a well-tuned machine here in Angola. Dallas has leaned on all the right people to make this place work. Henry will lead well. Meg will keep everyone healthy and safe. The dogs will protect them and the cows will feed them. I feel confident that they will be able to sustain themselves without us.
There were a few people asking about Benjamin the next morning…about where I thought he’d gone and if I thought he’d make it.
; In my head, I said, “To Hell,” but my mouth said, “We don’t need the likes of him. There are just too many other important things to focus on.”
I will deny what I did until I am dead, of course. Any number of us could have ended his life, so I’m not too worried.
In the end, the needs of the many outweigh the desire of one asshole.
And I sleep just fine at night.
A plane circled over Angola three times before using the landing strip, which was surrounded on all sides by shooters by the time the wheels touched ground. The survivors had no idea who was in it, but Dallas was pretty certain it was military.
Or worse.
“Pretty ballsy to land a plane,” Luke said as it rolled to a stop. “We can always use another plane.”
“Uh uh. We aren’t going to be like that. We’ll hear what they have to say and send them on their way.”
Luke looked at Roper and Butcher, both of whom shrugged.
“Arms ready!” Luke commanded. All rifles were pointed at the door of the plane.
When it opened, a flight attendant in dressed in full military uniform walked out, followed by the President of the United States.
The President.
“Holy shit,” Roper uttered. “That’s…that’s really him.”
To Dallas’s surprise, the rifles remained pointed and at the ready. The group did not move. They did not waver. She would have beamed with pride if she hadn’t been so shocked.
The President smiled and waved at the shooters on his way to where Dallas stood gaping. The five men with him, probably CIA agents or Secret Service, did not have their weapons drawn, but stayed as a protective cocoon around the white-haired man.
“President Rainier would like to speak with Dallas,” the lead agent announced.
Butcher and Roper blocked off the way. “You’ll need to wait and see if Dallas wants to talk to him.”
“Do you know who this is?” one of the agents demanded.
Dallas walked up to the group, and everyone parted to reveal a much thinner president than he had been a year ago. His hair was whiter, his face gaunt. It had been a year from Hell, to be sure, and he wore it like a yoke around his shoulders.
Riders of the Apocalypse (Book 2): Burning Rubber Page 26
