Torn Apart (Book 3): Survive Texas Dead

by Hoaks, C. A.

  “Do we have enough supplies?” Darlene asked.

  “We’ll be okay. We’ll find other places to scavenge. There’ll be small communities or ranches.” Steve answered under his breath. “At least I hope.” He reined his mount around to retrieve the lead rope from Della. “Everyone keep up and be quiet. No talking unless you have to.”

  The small group headed out at a steady trot. They followed the dry creek bed as it wound around small cultivated areas. The next hour passed slowly, and progress seemed equally sluggish when the terrain grew rougher, and the sides of the gully narrowed. The ravine was stifling without a hint of a breeze to dry the moisture on their clothes.

  Penny squirmed and began to whimper. “Mommy? I want my mommy.” She started to cry.

  Zack helped her sit up and smiled. “It’s okay peanut. She’s right behind us.”

  Penny turned and climbed up Zack’s chest while he struggled to hang on to her.

  Darlene whispered from her own mount. “Sit still, Penny. You're all right.”

  Della called out softly. “Steve, I think we need to stop for a few minutes.”

  Steve answered back. “Just a few moments longer. There’s a stand of trees on that rise ahead.”

  With a bit of coaxing from Zack, Penny allowed him to sit her back in his lap.

  The four rode in silence until a sharp switchback opened with a slight rise from the river bed. Steve used his knees to encourage his mount as he eased the reins to the left. His mount climbed the bank of the dry stream bed with the pack horse close behind. He moved out of the way to watch the others ascend to the natural damn creating a clear spring fed pool.

  “Oh, God!” Darlene declared as everyone’s mood suddenly lightened. “The breeze feels amazing, and there’s water!”

  Steve led the group to a small grove of trees. Once under the shade of spreading limbs of massive oaks, the riders began dismounting. Lastly, Steve eased both footpads on his prosthetics from the stirrups and swung his right leg over the back of the horse. Still clinging to the horn and cantle, he eased himself to the ground. He walked the reins to a branch and tied them loosely enough for the horse to reach the water.

  Zack stepped from behind Penny leaving her sitting on the saddle. When he was on the ground, he lifted her to side amid a trill of giggles. The four-year-old ran to her mother.

  Darlene swept Penny up into her arms. “Well, how was your nap?”

  “Good.” She leaned into her mother’s ear and whispered. “Teetee.”

  Penny wiggled, and Darlene set her on down. She grabbed Penny’s hand. “I do too.” She turned to Della. “How about you?”

  Della slipped from her saddle. She clutched the leather reins as she rubbed her palms against her butt cheeks chuckling. “Sure do. Us girls have to stick together.”

  “Watch for snakes,” Steve called out.

  “As always.” Della retorted as she pulled her machete from the scabbard and stepped into the lead after handing reins to Zack.

  Zack laughed. “This black boy sure is tired of riding.”

  Steve laughed. “If holding Penny was too much you should have said something.”

  Zack grinned. “My arms are not the problem. It’s my butt.” He made a show of walking bow-legged.

  Darlene and Della passed the horse’s reins to Zack then with Penny walked to a cluster of bushes.

  Steve smiled at Zack. “Really, how are you holding up?”

  “Won’t lie. My legs are killing me.” He tied the reins of three horses to a branch near Steve’s mount then guided the pack horse to the water. “I don’t think I’d mind walking for a while.”

  “We should be far enough from the road to not have to worry about stopping for the night.”

  “I take it we’re no longer heading for Van Horn?”

  Steve nodded. “No. The trucks worry me. I’d still like to see if we can find supplies at a ranch or someplace though.”

  Before the conversation could go any further, Darlene, Della, and Penny reappeared. “We can see some buildings behind us,” Della announced. “Looks like a small town or village below the bluff.”

  After securing the horses, Steve pulled his binoculars from his saddle before following Zack to where the women pointed. “How far away?”

  “Not far. It’s hard to tell. We’re up on a ridge looking down on the village. It’s built near the bluff.” Della answered.

  Steve leaned against a tree and raised the binoculars to his eyes. He studied a dozen or so buildings and decided they were all probably constructed during the 1930s. The few retail buildings were typical single-story brick with little aesthetics to offer. Most of them appeared boarded up and empty. He wondered if any of the residents were under the age of sixty since the half-dozen people he saw were elderly. Just then Steve saw a young teen girl in a red T-shirt bounce down the steps of a white clapboard house at the end of the street. She picked up a bicycle from alongside the steps, pointing it toward the blacktop and stepped on a pedal to get moving. After peddling for a full minute, the bike picked up enough speed to coast down the street and toward the opposite end of town. She was enjoying the wind in her long dark hair. She sat back and raised her hands in celebration. The girl rode to a building that was more shack than a house at the end of the street. Unpainted plywood covered the side of the house that faced the ridge. The backyard included rows of spring plantings. At the edge of the garden near the waist-high corn was an outhouse with a moon carved in the door. An old woman hobbled down the front steps to meet the girl when she jumped from her bike. After a hug from the old woman, the girl parked her bike at the side of the house then followed the woman inside.

  Steve turned to Zack. “Not much to see. Doesn’t look like the stores have been open in years, and the community itself is mostly a bunch of old folks.”

  Della came walking back from the horses, handing both men water and power bars. “I figured since we’re stopped it was a good time to eat and drink something.” She turned toward the panoramic view of the village below. “Anything interesting?

  “It looks infection free,” Steve answered. “They seem pretty peaceful.” Steve walked away handing Zack the binoculars. “Maybe we can get the water bottles filled.”

  Amid a distant rumbling, Zack called out. “Steve! It’s them!”

  Suddenly the trucks from the highway came into view amid racing engines and gunfire. Della stared at the vehicles invading the unsuspecting villagers.

  Steve dropped the power bar in his pocket and hurried to Zack’s side. Afte Steve raised the binoculars to his face for a minute, he turned to Zack. “Get the rifle, would you?”

  Zack hurried back to Steve’s mount where the rifle now rested in a scabbard at the side of the saddle. Zack ran back to where Steve watched the attack and handed over the long gun and accepted the binoculars.

  “At least thirty men,” Steve observed.

  Through the scope on the rifle, Steve watched the vehicles spread out through town. They began corralling people and marching them toward the center of the village. Steve swung the scope toward the old woman’s house just in time to see her hurry the red-shirted girl out the back door. In the backyard, she rushed the girl to the outhouse and kissed the girl, then pushed her inside. With the girl squatting on the floor, the old lady spoke, reached out to touch her face, then closed the door and turned the latch. The old woman hurried to the garden and knelt at the end of the row just as two men with automatic weapon’s walked out the back door of the house. The woman struggled to her feet and turned to face the men, her shoulder’s pulled back in defiance. One of the men turned the muzzle of his automatic weapon at the woman and fired a short burst. The woman fell to the ground. One of the men walked to a grass-covered mound with a weathered door, threw open the dilapidated wooden access to an old time root cellar and swept the dark enclosure with bullets. He turned toward the outhouse but the second man called out. They argued briefly, then turned and jogged back toward the center of town.
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  Amid sporadic bursts of gunfire, the rest of the attackers systematically gathered the surviving residents of the village and marched them into the center of town. They separated the men from the woman then forced all of the inhabitants to their knees. The gathering was mostly middle-aged and younger women with children, one clutching an infant to her breast. One of other woman clung to two pre-teen girls and a little boy. The attackers held guns on the men of the village while two men walked down the row using zip-ties to bind their hands behind their backs.

  Two bearded men walked to the row of nearly a dozen women. The taller of the two, a man with a scar across his cheek began binding the hands of the women. When he got to the woman with the infant, he jerked the child from her arms. While the second man grabbed the screaming woman by the hair, the man holding the child by his leg slammed the baby’s head into the ground. The woman screamed until the shorter man back-handed her. As she lay on the street, he drove his knee into the woman’s back and grabbed her hands. With her hands bound behind her back and left her lying face down in the dirt, sobbing. The two men moved to the second woman with the three kids. They kicked her to the ground. The taller man pulled a handgun from his pants and shot the small boy in the chest. The two young girls were bound and pushed to the ground next to their mother.

  “Oh My God!” Zack gasped for breath. “We have to do something!” He whimpered.

  Steve lowered the rifle and reached out to place a hand on Zack’s shoulder. “We can’t. Give me the glasses.”

  “But….” Zack began then passed Steve the binoculars. He turned and walked back to two women now standing nearby.

  Steve bore silent witness to the atrocities of the attacks as the horrors of ISIS played over again.

  Chapter 38

  Farewell

  “You think they’ll make it?” Billy asked as the big pickup pulled out from the survivor’s camp. He gave one last wave at Margo and Paula standing next to Henry.

  “We can hope,” Brian answered

  Leon, sitting with Juan in the back seat of the extended cab, asked. “Do you think we should have made ‘em come with us?”

  “No, it was their choice. We left a good truck, and both women know how to use guns,” Brian answered. “Even if we did feel it’s unsafe enough to demand them leave, what about the rest of the folks there? Do we leave them, or try to force them to come too?”

  “They're only sixty-five miles from San Antonio. There could be herds of infected survived the bombings and moving out into the countryside. What if some of the small towns nearby end up infected?” Billy asked.

  “Again, we can’t dictate what they do. I made a few suggestions, but overall, they’re making choices for their own safety. I hope they’re good ones for their sake,” Brian answered.

  Leon nodded. “Guess you’re right, boss.”

  “We’ve got a long ways to go to get to Pine Springs Canyon, and y'all need to know, I plan on making time,” Brian announced.

  The truck bounced down the scrub grass covered dirt trail heading away from the Hill Country Compound. Brian glanced in the side mirror one last time. Two men closed the gate while the rest of the gathered well-wishers drifted away. Brian looked back to the road to focus on his only goal in life.

  It had taken nearly five days to sort out the camp and establish some sense of governing and security for the residents. Those brought in as captives had found friends within the compound, so they chose to stay. With nowhere else to go and the criminal element gone, it made sense for them to stay. With the men in charge now if Grant and his crew showed up at the gate, they would be shot on sight. Again, Brian hoped the infamous Gregory Grant never showed up again to take control, but he couldn’t wait around and see. He had family waiting, and he refused to invest any more time in saving these people.

  It took nearly twenty minutes to leave the dirt path and find the narrow gravel road that connected the camp to the highway. Ten minutes later Brian turned onto a single-lane blacktop in need of repair long before the infection. He stepped on the accelerator and the speedometer inched up toward forty. Brian drove for nearly four hours through back roads almost always heading north or west. Twice they were forced to backtrack wasting an hour each time.

  “We aren’t going through Kerrville?” Billy asked.

  Brian raised his foot off the accelerator. “Shit, no. Too many infected coming out of the city by now. We’re going to work our way around. Lots of back roads with all the camps spread around the area.”

  Three hours later the highway rose gradually for three miles before cresting into a view of the steep hills and valleys beyond. It was a majestic view of the open countryside, rugged and beautiful. One that could almost make you forget the world and its struggles. Brian stepped on the brakes to stopped at the side of a cliff face of limestone where the road had been blasted through the granite leaving a thirty-foot wall on either side of the highway.

  “Anyone needs a break, do it now?”

  The four men stepped out of the vehicle and walked behind the truck one by one. When Billy opened the map, he ran a finger from along a narrow line. “Best I can guess, we’re about thirteen miles from the road where we need to be.”

  “Then what?” Leon asked.

  “We’ll be heading toward Hunt and then head west first chance we get. The further we get from major metro areas the safer we’ll be, I hope,” Brian answered.

  The men climbed back in the truck, and they took off again. The occupants grew quiet as the vehicle wound its way down the hill. As the miles clicked away, the landscape changed from massive limestone outcroppings and formations to flat lands with stunted oaks and stands of mesquite and scrub grass. They would pass a house now and then. Most showed little sign of living occupants. Once in a while, a curtain would move in a window, but the residents would remain hidden and the avoid contact with travelers or make inquiries. The few vehicles they saw seemed to be abandoned, but there was no sign of the occupants.

  “Yah think the infection made it out here?” Leon asked.

  Brian answered slowly. “We’re not seeing the destruction I would expect if it had. I think it’s okay, for now, just people being cautious about strangers.”

  “So they could be hunkering down and doing alright?”

  “It’s hard to say. But we can hope.”

  Brian steered the F-150 around a stand of trees and stepped on the breaks when he saw several vehicles in front of a house and several outbuildings a quarter mile away. Looking closer, it appeared as if several men were roughing up a second group that included women.

  “Look!” Billy pointed toward the gathering. “What’s happening there?”

  Brian put the truck in reverse and slowly guided it behind a stand of mesquite, out of sight from the road. Brian shifted into park and killed the engine. All four men stepped out of the vehicle.

  “What’s going on?” Leon asked.

  Billy answered excitedly. “It looks like military and civilian vehicles.”

  “Military? Maybe that’s good news, boss,” Leon commented.

  “Stay here. I don’t want anyone knowing we’re here until I figure out what’s going on. Soldiers helping people don’t manhandle them.” Brian retrieved a pair of binoculars from the dash and walked to the edge of a clearing. He studied the commotion in the distance.

  A dozen people stood facing three men with automatic weapons pointed at them. The detainees were women, children, and four men. Two of the people being held at gunpoint appeared to be barely able to stand on their own. All held their hands above their heads.

  “What are they doing?” Billy appeared at Brian’s elbow with a scoped rifle over his shoulder.

  Brian frowned. “Looks like men holding civilians at gunpoint. Some of the men are dressed in fatigues.”

  “No way those motorcycles are military?” Billy asked. “The riders sure don’t look military, either.”

  “They’re not,” Brian answered. “But three soldiers
are among the men packing supplies out of the house and loading them into the back of the transport.”

  Brian studied the activities in the yard a few minutes longer. The bikers held the civilians at bay while the men made trip after trip to the farmhouse. They brought more and more of the resident’s food stock and supplies out of the building and loaded them into the truck.” He could hear dishes crashing inside the house. One of the younger women began to cry.

  The three bikers threatened the hostages while the house was being ransacked. Items were being tossed outside in the yard. The bikers poked and prodded at the men, knocking an old man with gray hair to the ground where he lay dazed by the assault. When one of the younger men made to defend the prone man, a second man jammed the barrel of a gun under the man’s chin leaving him impotent to stop the assault.

  The third man turned his attention to one of the women. He said something to her, and she began sobbing and pulled away. The man, an ugly, bearded thug pulled a knife from his belt and leaned down and slid the blade along the fabric of the woman’s shirt to shear the buttons from the front. When the material fell open, he slipped the knife blade between her breast to mutilate her last vestige of modesty. Despite his threats, the woman jerked away and pulled her shirt together. Still clutching at the remnants of her clothing, she refused to remove her hands despite coercion with the knife. When she wouldn’t submit to the man’s threats, he kicked out with a booted foot hitting her on the side of the head. She fell like a stone and lay still. When the man next to her moved to protect her, another biker slammed the butt of a rifle against the side of the man’s head.

  One of the soldiers saw the exchange and ran up to push the leather-clad rider away from the couple. The soldier pulled a handgun and pointed it at the biker while shouting at the man. Suddenly, two more bikers joined the fray by aiming weapons at the soldier. There was a Mexican standoff with firearms being pointed, angry shouts and threats from both sides. Tense minutes passed with bikers threatened the soldier. The remaining soldiers stepped behind the first pulling their own weapons and threatening the bikers. The men shifted from target to target while words were yelled back and forth.