His only problem now was how to get up to the clifftop town, take it over then toss all the Indians over the edge. That would teach them to refuse him when he demanded entrance. That would teach them to gun down dozens of his men and his captains to tell him there was no way up the road with out getting torn to bits. They had the high ground, good cover and perfect firing lines to shoot anything coming up the narrow, twisty road. He’d figure something out. He was Casey the Cannibal and he wanted that town. Casey got what he wanted and he’d teach those Indians that as soon as the rest of his army arrived.
Lucinda and President Edmunds were in some sort of tribal headquarters building. The men had gotten the big generator hooked up and at least they could finally get out of the truck. It was too hot to be outside without air conditioning and when the building had cooled enough, they went inside to relax. They’d seen the handful of vehicles Casey had sent up the mountain road come tumbling back down, flipping end over end as they bounced down the steep cliff faces. The natives were definitely not friendly. They’d watched with binoculars as the lead truck stopped at the barrier and the men had got out to demand entry. The exchange only lasted a minute or two. They were shot and even from a mile away they heard the chatter of machine guns opening up on the other vehicles. They had tried reversing away but one by one they flew off the road and over the edge, their trucks shot full of holes.
It was going to be a difficult town to take.
Casey’s stupid Trojan Horse idea wouldn’t work and it was the only idea he had. They laughed at him in private, when they knew they couldn’t be over heard. They were also smart enough to know they needed him to run the men. A group like this wouldn’t follow a woman no matter how good a leader she was. That was okay with them, though. They’d keep telling Casey what to do and how to do it in a way where he thought the ideas were his own. They were both good at getting what they wanted and right now, it was the same thing. Domination of the nation. It was heady and thrilling and the enjoyment was in the doing. For Edmunds, it was her right. She’d been working towards it her whole adult life and it was finally going to happen. For Lucinda, a poor girl serving time for attempted murder, it was all brand new and exciting. She’d never had anything nice in her life and now she had servants and diamonds and respect. And she had the blood. The delicate, sweet adrenalized blood of innocents. It had been over a week since she last drank and was getting that twoofing feeling, that empty hunger that could only be satisfied with blood. Edmunds had told her about it, had hinted it that it was one of the reasons so many children went missing every year. There had been an ever-increasing population of Sanguines who were addicted.
Lucinda was glad the zombies happened, the world needed a good cleansing. There were too many people and too many laws. Now there was only one law that mattered: keep Casey happy and she knew how to do that. She’d have to make sure she got to the prisoners first when they took the town, save the young and pretty girls for him before the men got a hold of them. She wanted a few for herself and Edmunds, too. She was looking forward to another ritual, another shot of adrenochrome. It gave her a reason to rejoice, even though they were stuck in the stuffy tribal building. Not for long, though. Her and Edmunds had sent out their own crew to circle the table top mesa and report back with what they found. They had quietly recruited some of the most competent men and women to report directly to them. Casey could keep all his hulking, tattooed meatheads, they were grooming the intelligent ones to become loyal. They would find a weakness that could be exploited. A sewer pipe or an irrigation canal. Something small everyone else over looked while they were trying to think of how many guns they needed to overpower the Indians. There was always something. In a way they were both glad Casey didn’t have any rockets or bombs or grenades. His idiot men would wind up destroying the important infrastructure. They’d blow up the windmills or turbine pumps and anything else that turned the little desert town into a lush oasis of greenery.
87
Gunny
Gunny and Griz fell in behind the Eastern raiders. With full tanks of gas, a 12 pack of beer on the passenger seat and a bag of beef jerky, they slowly ate up the miles rolling to Arizona. He and Griz tossed full bottles of warm beer out the window every once in a while, and hopped out like the rest of them, pretending to relieve themselves, every fifty miles. It was going to take forever to get where they were going. After the third break that afternoon and a slight nod from Gunny, Griz said he was stopping at the next store. He needed more beer. He said drinking warm Coors was like drinking mule piss, didn’t affect him at all. He was going to get enough for all his new friends and had his arm around Spiders shoulders, asked him what his favorite drink was. His speech was slightly slurred and he made sure to stumble a little on the way back to his machine. Gunny grinned at the other men and women and shrugged his shoulders.
“Let’s load up this time, not just get a few for the road.” Gunny said. “We’re getting close, we don’t want to show up empty handed. I bet they’ve already raided all the stores that are close in. You know it’s gonna be a party!”
There were nods all around. Sure, why not. They were only a few hundred miles away. It would suck to be the only ones who didn’t come to the pow wow without anything to share.
“I need me another go at that blondie in the cage anyway.” One of the raiders commented, looking back towards the cattle racks on the back of one of the pickups.
It was crammed full with about twenty women, the other one with about the same number of men.
“It’s getting late, maybe we should camp out. What do ya say, Spider. It’s been a long day.” he asked, desire in his eyes and lust in his heart.
Gunny could see their leader was torn between having another night of fun and following orders to report as soon as possible. He exchanged glances with Griz, both understood this would be a good time to cut Casey’s numbers down a little.
“You’ve picked up some fine-looking girls there, Spider.” Gunny said, massaging his ego. “We lost all of ours. I’ve got a bottle of fifteen-year-old single malt Scotch I’ve been saving for a special occasion. You up for a little trade?”
Spider grinned his carnivore grin, matching Gunny’s yellow fanged smile. He wasn’t quite sure who this vato was but he wasn’t no pendejo. The dude had cajones. Judging from the war rig he was in, he must be somebody pretty important, must be one of the Northern war chiefs even though he didn’t brag about himself. He let his actions do the talking and Johnny Killjoy had killed twenty or thirty of those undead things when they first met. If the stranger wanted one of Spiders girls, he could have her. He seemed like the kind of guy you didn’t want to be upset with you. He seemed like the kind of guy you wanted to keep happy.
“Sure, ese.” Spider said. “Me casa su casa. Take your pick.”
“Let’s find us a nice place then.” Gunny said. “Next little town with a bar. I know some good drinking games we can play.”
Twenty miles later and just before sunset they found a wide spot on the map that had a post office, a gas station, a few little stores and most important, the Blue Moon bar and grill. When they pulled into the lot, the undead inside started pawing at the windows, ripping down the curtains and moaning for blood.
“We’ll take care of this, Spider.” Gunny said. “To show you our appreciation for sharing.”
“That’s right,” Griz said, still slurring his words a little, “I might want you to share two of those sweet little honeys. I’m a big man with a big appetite.”
The others laughed, some of the women laughing the loudest. They could be the cruelest, Gunny had learned over the years. There was no secret bond of sisterhood. Women were just as horrible to their own kind as men were to theirs. Callous savagery had no gender boundaries.
“What about you, Johnny?” one of the women asked as she spotted some followers and pulled out her pistols. She had short spikey hair, ritual scars on her cheeks, piercings all over her face and a salacious grin.
She thought she was being sexy and alluring. Gunny thought she looked like a walking disease factory.
“I like ‘em medium rare with a bit of garlic.” he answered and snapped his fangs at the cage.
There was more laughter as the girls cringed away from the bars but there were a few stumbling corpses trying to run at them across the parking lot. They were drawn by the noise and Spiders people spread out to take care of them. Gunny and Griz went through the bar door with guns blazing, wild eyes shining through the warpaint on their faces, screaming just as loud as the zombies. Anyone watching saw undead heads explode in puffs of full metal jacketed mist before the door slammed closed and a barrage of gunfire filled the bar.
A few minutes later, Johnny Killjoy and Tomahawk came out, guns holstered, wiping gore off their knives.
“Hell of a lot of them.” Griz said. “Half the town must be in there.”
“It’s a mess.” Gunny said. “Spider, whatcha think about sending these slaves in there to earn their keep. People like us don’t need to be slopping around in zombie guts, let them clean it up.”
“Yeah.” One of women with a necklace made of gold teeth said. “and tell them to use bleach, I don’t want to smell it either.”
“Good idea, ese.” Spider said. “We’ll get the trucks topped off before it gets dark.”
He snapped his fingers, pointed out a few men to guard them and started ordering everyone else to set up a perimeter around the fuel drops.
“Just like we always do.” he yelled at them. “We don’t get sloppy, we don’t get dead!”
“We can help the guards.” Gunny said. “We’ve got extra gas tanks and my main tank is still over half.”
Griz started grabbing the captives out of the cages and shoving them towards the bar.
“Look alive there!” he bellowed. “Get your goat smelling asses moving.” he smacked a couple of the men, his meaty hands slapping loudly against their backs. Most of them cowered away but he noted a few who moved with defiance in their eyes and rage in their steps. The ones who still had some fight, that hadn’t been broken yet.
Spider watched for a moment then turned back to the refueling and checking their perimeter. These new guys were all right. He was glad they came across them. He needed to pay attention to the gas station, though. It was hard to see very far down the side roads, dark was settling in.
“Get those candles on the tables lit.” Gunny said as they walked into the bar and shoved one of the girls in that general direction.
“Drag all the bodies out the back door.” Griz told the rest of the captives and disappeared into the kitchen.
“This way, toss ‘em in the dumpster.” His voice faded as he went to the rear of the building.
Gunny slid behind the bar and pulled down bottles of booze.
“Let me set you fellas up.” he said to the guards and started topping off shot glasses.
One of Spiders men hesitated on his way through the kitchen door, torn between duty and whiskey. Griz yelled at someone and they heard another loud smack.
“Tomahawk can take care of them.” Gunny said and raised his glass in a toast. “To Casey!”
Their hands automatically thumped their hearts in a Pavlovian response and both men reached for the shots.
“To Casey!” they chorused and drank.
“Your lives for his.” Gunny said as the men slammed the empty glasses down. They both had quizzical looks on their faces when Gunny’s hands came up from behind the bar, both gripping steel. With his Gerber in one hand and a bread knife in the other, he drove the blades deep into their questioning eyes.
The captives all froze. The women with mops and rags wiping up blood, the men with stinking bodies in their arms dragging them out back.
“We’re from Lakota.” Gunny said and pointed out two of the men he’d noticed that still had fire in their eyes and anger in their movements.
“Strip them of their weapons and drag the bodies out back. All of the undead, too. We’re going to set up an ambush for the rest of those jokers.”
They all just stared at him, wide eyed and not believing the turn of fate.
“You do want to escape, don’t you?” Gunny asked at their indecision.
That got them moving and with new vigor. The men he’d pointed out jumped towards the still twitching bodies, taking their rifles, pistols and knives.
“You, blonde girl in the red shirt.” Gunny pointed out one of the women who was limping badly. “Watch out the front windows, let us know if any of them come.”
She nodded and hurried over, staying out of sight behind a curtain.
“There are thirty-seven of them left.” Gunny said speaking just loud enough so everyone could hear. “Too many for a firefight, we’d lose.”
“What’s the plan?” one of the men stripping weapons asked in a deep southern accent.
He did a function check on each one, quickly counted ammo and made sure they were loaded before placing them on the bar. Gunny noticed and nodded his approval. The people were hurrying now, nearly running with the corpses to clean the place up and set the trap.
Gunny pulled down bottles of booze and set them on the bar as he spoke.
“When they finish fueling, they’ll all come inside.” he said “But we need them to be rushed or they’ll see the trap so we’ll give them some incentive.”
There were four guns between the two guards and he’d found a scatter gun under the bar. It only held two rounds but it would do a lot of damage and make a lot of noise.
“Pick out three more people.” he told the man double checking the bodies for more weapons. “What’s your name?”
“Willie James.” he said
“Okay Willie.” Gunny nodded as he grabbed more bottles. “You, your buddy and three you pick are going with Griz out the back. You’ll sneak around to the other side of the gang and start shooting at them. That’ll get them to run back into the bar where I’ll have a little surprise waiting for them.”
“You think that’ll work?” someone asked. Maybe we should just take off. We can get away in the dark.”
“No.” Willie said. “Some of us might get away but most of us won’t. We kill those bastards. Or have you already forgot what they did to your wife?”
The man shut up and grabbed the last body to drag it out of the way.
“I need a couple of you to start emptying these bottles.” Gunny said and three of the women hustled over. They were bruised and beaten, one of them walked gingerly. Sore from hard use. Bent but not broken.
“All around the perimeter.” Gunny said “make a trail and splash anything that looks flammable, especially the walls.
“They’re breaking up the circle of trucks.” The woman watching the windows said. “They’ll be heading this way in a few minutes.”
“Fire team, on me.” Griz urgently said from the kitchen and the men with the weapons ran for the sound of his voice.
“The rest of you clear out.” Gunny said. “Get down the alley and hidden in the dark just in case this whole plan gets fubared.”
Eyes got big, whiskey bottles were tossed and everyone scrambled for the back door when they heard the first of the engines pulling up in the parking lot.
The first man through the door waved his hand in front of his face.
“This place reeks of booze.” he complained.
“They used it to clean up the blood.” Gunny replied, pouring shots into glasses lined up on the bar. “Smells better than zombie guts.”
“You got that right.” he said and others started trickling in.
“Where is everybody?” someone started to say but the parking lot erupted in gunfire. Glass shattered and everyone dove for cover when Griz opened up with the M-60. Some of the raiders tried to hide behind their trucks but were cut down. The thin tin boxes didn’t do much to stop the heavy pounding bullets. The smart ones sprinted through the doors and into the brick building, scre
aming and cursing and trying to return fire. Gunny slid quietly into the kitchen, pulled the locking pin on the big walk in cooler and ran for the rear door. The little surprise he and Griz had managed to wrangle were hungry. A handful of the undead burst out, their mouths moving but no sounds passing from their cracked and peeling lips. Their throats had been shredded, their voice boxes cut out. Quick ripping jabs from Gunny and Griz when they had herded the slowest of the mob inside the freezer was all it took. They stumbled with searching fingers towards the raging, cursing and bellowing of the raiders, not paying any attention to the motionless figure holding a Chivas Regal bottle with a rag stuffed in the neck. A different kind of screams started coming from the bar as Gunny lit the fuse and hurled the flaming bottle through the cooks serving window. It smashed against the liquor-soaked bar and whoomphed into flames that spread in both directions around the club. More screams and Gunny swore he could hear the sound of tearing flesh over the crackling of flames and retorts of gunfire. He slipped out the door, slammed a heavy iron skillet onto the knob a few times until it broke off then let it swing shut. He waited, guns drawn for anyone to come bursting through but the gunfire died out and a few minutes later the screams stopped too. The flat tarred roof had caught and parts of it were caving in. There was nothing left alive in the inferno and Gunny made his way around front where everyone else was pulling kids out of a couple of the vans. Some were reunited with their children, some were backing the trucks away, protecting them from the flames.
Zombie Road: The Second Omnibus | Books 4-6 | Jessie+Scarlet Page 56
