Torn Apart (Book 3): Survive Texas Dead

by Hoaks, C. A.

  “I’m not making any promises.” She called over her shoulder as the black mare followed.

  She rushed down the passageway to the tack room. Rays of sunlight streamed through the window illuminating the rows of bridles and tack on the side wall. A workbench under the window included small hammers, pliers, and scraps of leather but nothing substantial enough to pull the boards from the post. Two handmade saddles rested on saw horses. A nearby can of saddle soap and several clothes hinted at the reason for their presence.

  “Damn-it…damn-it…damn-it!” Della cursed. She stepped out of the tack room and glanced around frustrated. Suddenly she noticed a box at the front of barn entrance. She hurried to it and threw open the lid. “Gotcha!” She reached inside and pulled out two farrier hammers. Both hammers were lighter than she needed but hoped they would do the trick. As an afterthought, she grabbed a rag and large hoof file nearly two feet long.

  With tools in hand, she jogged to the fence and began walking from the paddock toward the back, hoping to find a board she could loosen. After a full minute, she noticed one pulled away from the post nearly half an inch. She dropped her shoulder satchel, the medical bag, and tools. The black and other horses gathered close as if realizing she was their only chance of escape. When she glanced over her shoulder, Della saw the gathering of infected at the fence had grown. They pressed against the boards with the frontmost bodies spilling blood and gore over the pristine white in dark rivulets. She picked up the file. She didn’t have much time.

  The black mare stood back watching while Della jammed the file between the top horizontal board and the post. She wrapped a rag around the end, grabbed it with both hands and pulled. She grunted and groaned as she braced her foot against the post and struggled to free the board. Sweat beaded on her face. Her arms ached with the strain then suddenly a squeak of the board pulling the nail from the post startled her, and she stumbled back. She grabbed the hammer and wedged the pointed end under the bottom of the board. She leaned all her weight on the handle. The second nail moved with its own protesting squeak. A moment later the board pulled free, and she fell to her knees gasping for breath. More and more of the infected now pressed against the fencing protecting the barnyard. Della scrambled to her feet and grabbed the end of the board and pulled until the nails on the opposite end came free. It fell to the ground. Without taking the time to catch her breath, she repeated the process with the middle board. When there was slight separation from the post, she inserted the hammer then pulled and jerked at the end end of the handle. Suddenly the grip covered wood snapped, and Della fell to her knees. With a nearly panicked glance at the infected, she jumped to her feet and used the file to attack the board one last time. The end of the second board pulled free. She dropped the tool, leaned into the white painted board and walked it back until it tore free of the second post. She heard a snap, and the wood fell to the ground. Suddenly the black mare screamed and vaulted over the remaining board knocking Della aside.

  Della used the fencing behind her to pull herself to her feet and looked on in horror as infected began spilling over a broken board into the barnyard. She got to her feet and grabbed the hammer and darted back to pick up the medical bag and satchel. With the horses through the opening, Dell stepped over the last cross board on the fencing while the infected spilled onto the ground. A few of the infected began getting to their feet to follow. She turned away to run along the paddock fence back to the hidden ATV. When she neared the road, she veered off to find the four-wheeler.

  Five minutes later Della climbed on the ATV and cranked the engine. She backed the machine out of the brush and steered it through the brush to the edge of the blacktop. Della accelerated, and the massive tires climbed from the ditch to the blacktop. She clutched, shifted and accelerated. Once on the open road, she stepped on the clutch and slipped the machine into the top gear, anxious to leave the ranch behind.

  She glanced over her shoulder hoping to see at least a couple of the horses had escaped, but the road was empty of livestock. A little sad, Della turn back to face the way ahead. She settled in for the long ride home, and suddenly the engine began to sputter and cough.

  “Crap,” Della whispered.

  She downshifted and stopped the machine. She turned off the engine and sat still for a moment listing to the ticking of the cooling motor. She tapped on the gas tank and frowned. She could not see if it was empty, so she stepped off and walked to the back of the ATV. She unhooked the bungee from the gas can and carried it to the tank. She poured gas and realized the tank was barely half empty. She recapped the container, and put it back on the back bumper and secured it. Della stepped back on the machine and turned the key. The starter coughed then died. “Shit!” She cursed as she climbed back off the ATV and walked around the green monstrosity looking at the motor. Who was she kidding? She knew nothing about engines. She looked at the wires and tubing…tubing. That was it! She forgot to open the valve on the gas line. She turned it off when she stopped.

  “Idiot!” Della took a deep breath and turned the red valve to the on position and climbed on the machine just as the sound of steps approached. She twisted the valve and cranked the engine. The motor coughed twice then started, Della popped the clutch, and the machine jerked forward. She accelerated until she could only hear the roar of the engine. Finally, Della jerked her head around to glance over her shoulder. She laughed and eased back on the gas.

  The terror of the last twenty minutes melted at the sight of the black mare leading four of the surviving horses after her. Della eased off on the gas. The thoroughbreds continued to follow at a steady trot. “What in the hell do I do now?” She laughed.

  Della pondered the problem with her entourage in tow as she cruised down the highway and before she knew it, she was turning on the gravel road toward the shed and cabin beyond. She slowed the machine to make sure the horses followed when she turned up the side road. That’s it. The corral behind the shed. They’ll have hay and a windmill keeping the water trough full. At least for the time being.

  Della pulled the ATV to the shed and turned off the engine. The quiet was oppressive and frightening after the sound of the growling machine. She stepped to the gate and held it open as she watched the black mare lead the other through the opening. The black stopped and whinnied, then walked to the water trough. “I know. It’s not home, but it’s as good as it’s gonna get for a while.” Della chuckled.

  “What are you doing with horses?” A deep male asked from behind Della. She jumped and spun around grabbing the gun in the bag slung over her shoulder. “Easy. It’s just me.” Zack continued.

  Della slowly closed the gate. “It’s a long story. I think we need to give them some hay and try to wipe them down. They’ve had a long trip.”

  Zack looked puzzled. “Where have you been?”

  “The horse ranch. Steve needs antibiotics.” She answered as she pulled a square bale of hay from the barn toward the fence. She pulled off the twine then dropped half the cakes of grass over the metal barrier. Della picked up a handful of grass and stepped inside the pen. The black mare came to her side. Della slid her hand down the slinder, graceful neck. The horse shivered and raised her head.

  “Oh, you like that, huh?” Della chuckled. “Come on Zack, you can help.”

  “No. Not me. I’m a city boy.” He answered with a grin.

  Della quickly wiped down the sweat-covered animal. When she was finished, she grabbed a fresh handful of hay and walked toward another horse, but the animal shied away. Della barely got close enough to touch a brush on the other four horses. Finally, she sighed and dropped the hay to the ground. After leaving several cakes of feed from the barn, she turned to Zack. “I can’t take any more time for this. Let’s get to the cabin. Steve needs the medicine.”

  Chapter 5

  Last Call

  Harry guided the camper around debris in the parking lot and steered the vehicle to the fueling island of the abandoned station. The front of the RV faced
the town. Randy and Pablo parked the trucks close enough to fuel up with the electrical siphon system Randy had brought as well.

  Harry glanced over his shoulder. “Cody, I need you and your sister to keep an eye out that back window. You see anything at all moving, call out the side window to give us a heads up.”

  Trace jumped up. “We can do that.” She pulled her brother’s arm. “Come on. We can watch together.”

  “Sure,” Cody answered flatly.

  Liz followed Harry and John out of the camper commenting. “Cody’s having a hard time,” Harry grunted as a reply, so Liz continued. “I think it would help if you two would spend some time with the kids.”

  “We’ll try, but we ain’t never had kids. I don’t know what good We’d do.” Harry answered.

  “Dr. Phil, let’s get this done,” John commented as he headed toward the access port.

  “Fine. But at least think about it.” Liz turned around and stepped back in the camper. “Pass the adapter through the window when you’re ready.

  Harry sat the pump to the ground and used the tool they had salvaged from a fuel truck to open the cover over the tank access. He pulled a string with three silver dollar sized washer tied to the end from his pocket. Harry dropped the weighted end into the hole and spooled out the line counting the knots as he unwound the cord. He felt the hesitation when the splayed washers hit the fuel and again when it settled the bottom.

  “It has plenty to fill all three trucks,” Harry called out.

  John connected a hose to the pump then Harry dropped a measured length of tubing into the hole. John joined the second hose to the pump and opened the fuel cover on the camper then poured a bottle of fuel stabilizer into the tank. Harry glanced over his shoulder and gave a thumbs up.

  “Liz, plug in the pump,” John called out.

  Pablo and his son, Mario, carrying automatic weapons walked to the back of the trio of vehicles, then scanned the surrounding area. Pablo stopped at the end of the camper while Mario made his way further down the street.

  The small electrical motor chugged gallon after gallon of the precious fuel into the camper. After nearly five minutes, the gas tank of the camper belched fuel across John’s hand. He called out. “Off! Turn it off, Liz.”

  Liz pulled the plug and John pulled the hose to the truck Randy had been driving. He stuck the garden hose in the tank and called out to restart the pump.

  Randy walked up to John. “Pablo and Mario are keeping watch. While Y’all finish, Miguel and I are going to check out the clinic across the street.”

  Randy led Miguel crossed the street to the small brick structure with two waist-high windows in front and a glass door. There was a little, fenced area on the side of the building. Randy scanned the street for any movement.

  “Where are the people?” Miguel whispered is if someone was listening or could hear. “Should be at least a few signs of even the infected around.”

  Randy grunted his agreement. “Yeah. I don’t like it, either.”

  When they stepped up to the glass door, Randy tapped on the door with the crook of a crowbar. The men looked into the gloom of the building and saw deep shadows and the hints of a reception desk.

  Randy slid the end of the crowbar between the door and facing. Leaning into the bar, there was a pop, and the door pulled free of the door jam. He held the door with his elbow and caught a whiff of death. A low growl from inside drew both men up short. They stopped and listened.

  “Shit,” Randy growled. “A dog. I don’t know how an animal could have survived.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “What we have to,” Randy said as he flicked on his LED light and moved deeper into the recesses of the office. He noticed four doors across the back wall. A sad whimper could be heard from behind one of the doors. Randy started to the right and opened the first door a crack. He saw the white shadow of a toilet and closed the door. He glanced at Miguel, then moved his head from left to right. “Toilet.” He mouthed.

  Randy moved to the next door while Miguel did the same. Nodding at Miguel, Randy waited to see what he would find.

  “Exam room,” Miguel announced. “It has a door to the back with an exit sign.

  He pointed to another door with a sign. “Okay, this has to go to the back room,” Randy whispered. “Follow me.” Randy opened the door, and the stench of urine, feces, and decay was overpowering. The back room was an open space divided by function. Along a side wall was a glass enclosure with an assortment of cages. There were crates for large dogs, three for medium size dogs and six for small pets. Three of the more prominent pens held decaying bodies while the last one had the door standing open. The cage was empty. Food bins and bags were broken and torn. None of the dry dog food was scattered across the floor. Water dripped from the faucet above the mop sink at the end of the room. A low growl emanated from somewhere deep in the shadows.

  “Shit.” Randy cursed.

  “Where is it?” Miguel whispered, near panic in his voice.

  “Don’t know. Stand back against the door. No sudden moves.”

  Randy walked into the crate room and opened the door. He walked across the remains of the dog food bags and stuck a pan under the faucet and turned on the water. The water flowed for a moment then devolved into a trickle. He stepped through the open door and gave a low whistle and called out. “Hear boy. Water and food. Come on boy.” He picked up a can from the floor and opened the top and dumped it out next to the bowl.

  Randy rose and stepped back from the door at the sound of soft footfall behind him. He turned to see a dark shadow moved through the doorway in front of him. Randy pulled the door closed while the dog trotted to the pan of water and lapped at the container. He turned back to the room and noticed metal cans scattered across the floor. There were signs of the dog attempting to bite into several cans of dog food. A couple punctures at one end were too small to get more than a trickle of juice. Finally, Randy waved at Miguel, “Start looking in the cabinet over there. Put everything that even looks slightly medical in bags or boxes. Be sure to get the thing that kinda looks like a microwave, it’s an autoclave. I think that machine under plastic is an ultrasound, let’s take that, too.”

  Miguel flicked his flashlight on and panned to the back of the room and saw a gray cart with large wheels. He rolled it to the medical cabinets and immediately unplugged the autoclave and transferred it to the top of the handcart. He opened storage units and scooped supplies into boxes until they were full then moved them to the cart.

  Randy used his knife to open the second can of wet food and dumped it into a stainless steel bowl. He walked into the glass enclosure where the dog was back lapping at the near-empty water bowl and slid the pan through the door and closed it again. The dog raced to the pan and began gulping at the food. In a second bowl, Randy dumped a bottle of water from his pack into another bowl and slid it into the room next to the food bowl, then secured the door, again.

  He walked to a stack of plastic tubs, pulled off the top one and looked inside to see it was half filled with white utility towels. Still exploring he looked under the sink and found a box of trash bags. Randy pulled a plastic bag free and stuffed the towels inside then tied the top and tossed it through the door. He slid the tub to Miquel. “Put the heavier supplies in this.”

  Miquel began going through cabinets and piled sealed medical kits, supplies, and tools inside. “Sí.”

  Meanwhile, Randy returned to the task of collecting bandages and medical supplies into three more bags. Each full bag was tossed to the door. When the cabinet was empty, Randy sat the second tub on the floor in front of him and cleared the drug cabinet. He had no idea what he was looking at, so he picked up everything, even IV solution. When the storage units were empty, Randy spilled two drawers of needles on top of the drug supplies. He opened drawers a handful of surgical packets, and those went in the tub as well. The last container was used for stethoscopes, blood pressure supplies and a collection of odds an
d ends from the examination rooms.

  Randy unplugged the ultrasound and pushed the cart toward the door as he glanced around the room one last time. “Let’s go.”

  Miguel piled two bags on top of his cart and opened the door to the front of the office.

  “Shit.” Randy sighed. “Keep going. I gotta do something about the fucking dog.” He walked to the kennel where the dog sat quietly. He opened the door and held out his hand. The shadow slowly approached. When the wet nose nuzzled his hand, he sighed. “I guess you’re coming with us.”

  The animal seemed to make a decision too and walked closer. Randy saw a gray-merle, Australian Shepard. The canine was a mess with matted hair and feet covered in muck.

  “Stay.”

  Randy returned to the back room, found a box and picked up cans of dog food from the kennel, a couple leashes, a brush, comb, nail clippers and a ball. He clipped a leash to the collar buried in the matted fur then hurried after Miguel in time to see the last of the supplies loaded onto his truck. Everything was covered and tied down with a web of rope.

  When Randy stepped into the sunlight, he realized everyone was looking at him. He shrugged. “What?” He growled. “I couldn’t leave the mutt.”

  Liz turned at the sound of the kids running from the camper.

  Trace squealed. “Can we keep him?”

  “We know how to take care of him. We had a dog.” Cody added.

  Randy handed Liz the leash. “You’re good at taking in strays. Here’s another one.”

  Liz started to protest, but the kids swooped in and began petting the dog.

  Harry cleared his throat. “Hate to break this up, but we need to get moving here.”