Torn Apart (Book 3): Survive Texas Dead

by Hoaks, C. A.

  Tate nodded. “Sorry.” She busied herself cutting more cheese and sausage. Finally, she looked up. “We have a camp. We have soldiers. And kids.” Tate looked up as she realized she referred to the place as if it belonged to her. “Lots of kids. Oh, and even a pregnant woman.”

  Helen smiled. “Oh, that’s wonderful. We can help since I’m a nurse, and my husband is a doctor. I think we should go with you.”

  “Maybe they won’t want us.” Red retorted. “We have nothing to offer but more mouths to feed.”

  Matt walked into the storeroom. “You can learn to contribute.”

  “Slave labor?” Theresa snapped. “You saved us, fine. Now just move on. We won’t go back to being whores for a different set of assholes.”

  Matt stepped back with a wounded look on his face. “NO! That’s not what I meant.” He looked at Tate, but she just shrugged. “That’s not what I meant, for Christ sake. We’re just offering safety. Well, as much as anyone can provide, nowadays. We have a garden, livestock, and lots to do around camp like learning to defend yourself.”

  Red smirked. “Why would you do that?”

  Matt shrugged. “It’s the right thing to do. We started with two kids, and seems every time I turn around I collect a few more.” He grinned as he realized the pills had kicked in. “How was the sausage?” He grabbed a hunk of smoked meat and tossed it into his mouth with a grin.

  Tate laughed. “Yeah. He’s the fucking Pied Piper of the apocalypse. Trust me, it's alright.”

  Everyone joined in laughing at Matt’s sudden discomfort. The tension in the room had disappeared.

  “I’m going to keep watch so Doc can get cleaned up and eat something.” Tate grabbed a handful of meat and cheese and headed back into the gloom of the storefront.

  “I’ll spell you at midnight,” Matt answered as he reached for a length of sausage and wedge cheese. He walked away toward the back of the storeroom, found a pile of flattened cardboard and pulled a couple pieces out to make a bed. Matt settled on the bedding, ate the remains of his meal, drank most of his bottle of water, then laid down. He fell asleep immediately.

  Chapter 8

  Last Stop

  Randy led the caravan of supply-laden, pickup trucks, and the camper rumbled toward the opposite end of town. The veterinary office had resulted in a good haul but took longer than expected. Despite the supplies gathered, Randy argued when it came to medications, they needed as much as they could lay their hands on. They wanted to check the drug store.

  “Damn, that dog stinks.” John echoed what all the adults had been thinking after finding the dog. The kids seemed oblivious to the smell.

  “Make sure everything is battened down. I don’t like the looks of the school ahead. Something is wrong.” Harry groused.

  “We’re good.” Liz turned to Cody and Trace. “You two stay put and hang on to the dog. If something happens, we don’t want to be tripping over him.”

  The closer the trio of vehicles got the school the slower Randy drove. He tapped the breaks twice, and Harry slowed the camper to a stop.

  Harry’s head swiveled from left to right as he growled. “Something is wrong. There’s a body trapped between the wall and the front of that truck. Is someone moving inside the cab?”

  John leaned out the window for a better look and quickly pulled his head back inside. “Smells like dead shit around here. I think this is a mistake.”

  Randy stopped the truck at the front of the drug store and shifted the pickup out of gear before he jerked open his door and walked to the camper. “Park here and stay inside. There’s a dead guy in the truck rammed into the front door to keep it closed. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s full of infected. I’m getting Pablo to pull up and protect our flank while Miquel and I check out the pharmacy.”

  “Are you sure it’s worth it?” Harry asked. “We can just move on. We got drugs.”

  “We have folks that need specific medications. People drugs I doubt we got from the vet’s office,” Randy argued. “We’re just going to sweep the drugs into bags. Ten minutes, in and out.”

  “Then I’m coming. Be that much faster” John added from the passenger seat. He rose pulling a machete from his belt.

  “Fine, I’ll tell Pablo, and then we’ll go in,” Randy answered as he hurried toward the second truck. A moment later the two men approached the door.

  John rose and called out. “Lizzy, hand me the box of trash bags.” Liz did as she was asked and John opened the door and stepped outside to follow.

  Pablo pulled the second truck up to cover the three men going to the drug store. The remaining men raised guns and watch the street ahead and the school.

  “I’m going to be in the back to keep watch,” Liz announced. “You kids sit tight.” She disappeared down the hall with a rifle in hand. In the bedroom, she opened the window and climbed on the bed to watch through the back opening.

  Randy led John and Miguel to the pharmacy door. He cupped his hand at the side of his face to peer inside. Without lights, the store was a collage of shadows and worrisome dark shapes. Randy jammed the crowbar between the door and the doorframe. He leaned into the rounded end of the bar, and the lock snapped. The door swung open with a loud squeal.

  The pungent odor of death wafted from the depths of the store. Randy stepped back into Miguel and cursed. “Damn.”

  “Dead inside,” Miguel announced.

  “No shit.” Randy squared his shoulders and reached for the door. “I take a left, Miguel right. John, center aisle. Pharmacy is probably at the back of the store.”

  John shrugged. “You’re running the show, soldier. I got some trash bags. Lead the way.” He clutched his machete tighter and waited for the other two men to move out.

  Randy pulled the door open. John stepped up and grabbed the handle to let Randy and Miguel step into the building. The stench wafted out assaulting senses. John’s breath caught, he grimaced then followed Randy and Miguel into the shadows. Light filtered through picture windows along the upper third of the wall alongside the interior of the building.

  John slow walked to the front of the aisle and waited until he saw Randy disappear down the left passageway. John looked to the right just after Miguel’s head moving down the next passage. John moved forward one step at a time. The center aisle was shrouded in shadows with the floor displays cluttering the middle every few feet. An oversized sales-display twenty feet ahead hid most of the back of the store.

  John squinted, trying to see into the gloom ahead of him. Was that movement? He stepped forward two steps and paused to take a LED flashlight from his pocket. A dark shadow grew from behind a display. He flicked the light on.

  “Hey, bring the bags. Pharmacy is empty. Let’s get this cleared out and get outta here.” Randy called out.

  John answered. “I found where that smell came from.”

  “Do you need some help?” Randy asked.

  “I got this.” He tossed a roll of plastic bags over the display to Randy, then raised the machete and stepped toward a little man in a blood-splattered white coat and bloodied bandage hanging from his arm. John moved the light from the fluttering strip of gauze to the gray face of death. The infected man’s eye sockets were dark and sunken while the eyes had lost all natural color and were clouded with a white film. His mouth opened in an angry snarl as he stumbled into the display and tumbled to the floor. While the monster struggled to get to his feet, John crossed the last few feet and raised the machete over his head. He slammed it down with a violent crack. The blade hit skull at the front of the man’s upturned head reverberating up John’s arms. Bone shattered, and gray and black ooze spilled out as the body slid back to the floor taking the blade with it.

  “Shit, that stinks!” John shook his arm then stepped on the side of the man’s head, grasped the handle, and pulled the machete free. He wiped the blade on the man’s once-white jacket then made a final sweep with the flashlight, making sure he missed nothing before he headed for the pharmac
y.

  Randy and Miquel entered the pharmacy and cleared shelf after shelf into trash bags. Randy glanced up and commented. “If you’re done playing around ol’ man, we could use your help.”

  “Someone had to keep your old ass safe.” John groused.

  Randy set two bags filled with boxes of medications and bottles of pills on the counter and added. “If you’re not too tired, you could carry this to the front of the store.”

  “Fuck you.” John snarled. “Be sure to pick up laxatives, you’re full of shit.”

  John grabbed the bags and on the way to the front of the store noticed a stack of plastic totes at the side of the aisle. He stopped and opened the lid. When the tote was filled with of a variety of “over the counter” medications, John sat down the bags and turned to add several boxes and bottles from the shelves to the container. He cleared the ledge, then moved down the aisle to add cough syrups, and pain relievers. When John finished, he stacked the totes and pushed the stack to the next section of supplies while pulling the bags behind him. John stopped at the first aid display and added a variety of ointments, bandages, tapes, and Band-Aids.

  When the second tote was full, he closed the lid then balanced the bags on top and pulled the stack to the door. John pushed the spoils through the opening, letting the door close behind him. He carried the plastic baggage to the back of Randy’s truck, loosened the tie-down and tossed the containers toward the front of the bed. John returned to pick up each of the totes and carried them to the pickup and placed them in the truck bed. He threw a loose wave at Harry then hurried back inside and used the left aisle to return to the pharmacy. Randy and Miguel had stacked two more bags on the counter. John called out. “I’m cleaning out shampoos and soaps and disinfectants.”

  John picked up an empty tote and attempted to pick up a second and found it contained half a dozen brands of shampoos and personal care products. He again cleared the shelves then gave it a shove toward the front of the store. John took the second tote to a section of shelving that displayed other products, soaps, wound care, and alcohol. With still room in the tote, he added every can of baby formula. As an afterthought, he grabbed a bag of trash bags and cleared the shelves of all the non-food baby supplies including bottles, cloth diapers, and clothes.

  Just as Miguel stomped down the aisle toward him, John snapped the lid closed on the tote, secured it and turned to carry the container toward the first still sitting several feet from the door.

  Suddenly shots rang out from outside. Pablo yelled from the door, “Got trouble! Gotta go NOW!”

  “Fuck!” Randy came up to John. “Move it ol’ man!”

  Randy stepped around John, transferring the bag from his right hand to his left. He sagged under the weight of both sacks but kept moving as he raced around Miguel and charged through the door. He aimed and fired at two infected approaching from behind the front of the truck.

  Miguel imitated Randy’s actions leaving John to either drop the tote and bags or hope he could load the totes while the other two men took care of the threat.

  “Gotta go!” Randy yelled as he tossed his bags into the back of the truck. “We got you covered. Come on, ol’ man!”

  Miguel threw his pair of bags on the bed and turned to fire twice. The first shot went wild but the second took out a man dressed in a tattered and blood-spattered sports shirt.

  Carrying a tote and two bags, John hurried to the side of the truck dropped the tote with a grunt, then tossed the bags into the pickup bed. He hefted the tote with the bottles of liquids into the bed, then jerked the tie-down in place. John called out, “We’re good here. Let’s move out.”

  “Load up, Pablo. Move out!” Randy ordered. “Harry move out! NOW! I got John!”

  Both vehicles took off as doesn’t of infected spilled from the shattered glass at the front door of the school.

  Randy jumped into the driver’s drivers of the pickup truck and pushed Miguel to the side. He called back at John, “Get in back, old man! We gotta go!”

  John stepped on the back bumper to pull himself into the truck bed just as an infected rounded the building, to grab for John. John dove across the supplies while the monster fell to the ground. Randy accelerated bouncing John across the pile of plastic bags.

  “Asshole!” John yelled as he clutched the ropes to keep from falling out of the truck. John rolled over, scrambled across the piles of supplies, and slammed his hand against the window. “Go!”

  John found a degree of stability and pulled his revolver from its holster. He aimed at an infected woman in a pair of shorts and the remains of a halter top. The infected woman’s bare middle had been torn and ripped open. Her remaining insides dangled around her knees. Her face was twisted into an angry snarl while her teeth snapped and her arms reached over the side of the truck. John fired. His first shot skimmed the side of her face taking her left eye and a narrow patch of hair. His second bullet caught her in the middle of the face. Three further shots took out the closest threat, and the pickup sped away leaving the rambling herd behind.

  John shifted his place behind the cab and settled down to reload his revolver.

  Two miles from Dell, Pablo and Harry slowed and moved to the side of the road to let Randy catch up. When Randy pulled up alongside the camper, Harry called out. “Everyone okay? John?”

  Randy laughed as he hiked a thumb over his should toward John. “That’s a pretty useless ol’ man.”

  Harry laughed. “I’ve noticed that over the years.”

  After rooting around in one of the last totes, John vaulted from the back of the truck. “Fuck you, asshole.” He held up his hand with a single finger extended then stomped to the camper.

  Liz stood at the door. The minute John stepped inside she pulled him inside and into a tight hug. “God, I thought I was going to lose you.”

  John shrugged free and scowled at the dog. “This place smells like dog shit.” He tossed a bottle of shampoo to Cody. “Do something about that mutt; if you’re gonna keep him, kid.”

  Everyone laughed as Randy pulled out and Harry guided the camper back on the highway.

  Chapter 9

  Horse Pills

  The ATV motor chugged up the last mile from the corral to the cabin with Zack driving and Della clinging to his waist. Zack turned around and asked. “Did you find what you needed at the Ranch?” Zack asked.

  “I think I got more than I needed.” Della sighed.

  “Was it bad?” He asked as he downshifted and the engine noise lessened.

  Della leaned closer. “It was pretty bad. No people left alive. The dead attacked the horses in the front paddock. The surviving horses were so frightened I just couldn’t leave them, so I opened a gate to let them out of the paddock. The infected would have chased them all down eventually. When I was trying to get through the gate, the black actually took out an infected that got too close.” She laughed. “I feel like I owe the black mare, I guess.”

  “What are we going to do with five horses? It just makes another responsibility. I don’t know how to take care of them.”

  Della remained quiet as they passed the site where the narrowing of the trail had been before she answered. “I don’t either, but for now I’ll feed them, and make sure they have water. Maybe when we leave, we just let them loose. At least they would have a chance.”

  Zack stopped the ATV at the front of the cabin. “You had no business doing that by yourself.” Della stepped off the machine and retrieved the bags she had brought from the ranch. Before she could answer Zack’s reprimand, he slipped the ATV back in gear and headed toward the shed leaving Della standing on the steps with the bags in hand.

  Millie appeared in the doorway. “I hope you got what you needed. He’s not doing good at all.”

  Della walked up the steps into a cabin stifling with the mid-day heat. After the ride on the ATV with the wind drying moisture on her face, it felt suffocating. She walked to the table and dumped the bag of meds. She examined half a dozen
bottles until she found a name she recognized. She opened the Ciprofloxacin and dumped out two tablets.

  Millie announced. “He can’t swallow those big ol’ pills. He can barely drink a couple teaspoons of the willow tea.”

  Della glanced toward the kitchen. “We have to find a way.”

  Zack appeared at the back door, and Della ordered. “It’s too hot in here. Carry a mattress to the back porch and grab one of the mosquito nets. Soon as you get the mattress out there move Steve then get his shirt off and pants off. Get some fresh water to wet rags and use them on his face and chest to cool him.”

  Millie glanced up from where she was mashing the pills into fine dust. “We putting ‘em in honey. We’ll thin it with bark tea.”

  A couple minutes later, Zack picked up Steve and carried him to the bedding on the back porch. He hung the mosquito net from the porch ceiling over the bedclothes and tucked the netting under the mattress on both ends and the back side. Bending down he pulled off Steve’s clothing leaving him in a pair of boxers.

  “Get the bucket of water and towels,” Della ordered. “We have to get his temperature down.”

  Zack did as he was told.

  Millie appeared with a cup of willow tea and a large spoon of honey with crushed pills. She added a few drops of the willow tea and stirred until the mixture was dissolved. She handed Della the spoon. “It’s thin enough to wash down, now.”

  “Set him up, Zack,” Della said. When Steve was leaning against Zack broad chest, Della tilted his head up and whispered his name. His eyes fluttered open, and she pressed the spoon of medicine to his lips. “You have to swallow this.”

  Steve opened his mouth, and Della poured the liquid between his lips. She whispered. “Swallow, now Steve.” Della continued to tip the spoon until the liquid was gone. Then she tipped the cup of against his lips. Steve swallowed twice then gave a weak cough. “Taste like shit.” He whispered.

  “Drink it anyway, boy. It will help.” Millie chuckled and nodded at Della to give him more of the willow tea. She held the cup to Steve’s lips again. When the liquid was half gone, she whispered. “One more drink, Steve. You’re going to feel better soon. I promise.”