Torn Apart (Book 3): Survive Texas Dead

by Hoaks, C. A.

  Matt grabbed a bottle and rinsed his mouth and spit. He leaned over and poured water over his head, wiped it away then picked up the keys and papers Tate had let slip from her hand. “Bring the bolt cutters. We may need them again.”

  Tate followed Matt ignoring the fact the water spilled on the white wife-beater had turned the shirt nearly transparent. They got to the truck and Matt unlocked the door. He reached for the handle, but Tate pushed him aside. “My truck. And if I catch you looking at my chest again…I’ll shoot you.” She scowled.

  Matt laughed. “Damn Tate Hamilton, you’re harsh,” He turned to the pickup and reached into the back for the containers of diesel. Matt removed two buckets and walked them to the driver’s side of the truck. He set them down then walked back for the last two. It was hot work transferring the few supplies to the big rig, but after ten minutes it was done. The tank was filled, and they were ready to go. “We need to get going,” Matt announced. “Natives are stacking up at the gate.”

  Tate looked up from her inspection of the rig. “Are you sure you don’t want to try to take the pickup?”

  “No. You noticed the linkage slipping and the knocking same as me. I don’t want to take a chance on the way back to the camp,” Matt answered.

  Tate tossed him the pickup keys then climbed behind the wheel of the big rig and adjusted the seat. She punched the key into the ignition and turned it, then waited. She watched dials, and gauges then leaned out the window.

  “Get in. We’re getting outta here.”

  Matt slapped a palm on her closed door. “I’ll get the gate.”

  “Fuck the gate.” Tate cranked the engine. “Get in, or I’ll leave your ass.”

  Matt jogged around the front of the truck. He reached up, opened the door and climbed into the seat. He flopped down just as the engine roared to life and Tate slammed the rig into gear. The machine jerked and sent Matt tumbling toward the still open door.

  “Buckle up, buttercup, if you’re not going to hang on.” Tate shifted the truck gear, and it jerked again.

  “Damn, woman. You’re hell on wheels. I thought you could drive this thing,” Matt chuckled as he slammed the door and slid the seatbelt into place.

  The truck accelerated and hit the chained gate knocking the gathering infected through the air or knocking them to the ground. The rig rolled over any unfortunate enough to be in the way of the big tires. Anyone left standing fell under the massive machine.

  “We’ll be back at camp by nightfall,” Tate announced.

  “Then we can leave for Pine Springs Canyon in the morning,” Matt answered.

  Chapter 44

  Hint of Hope

  Carrie walked out of the medical clinic with a frown on her face. “It’s been four days; I was hoping it would look a lot better.” She whispered.

  Liz laid her hand on the swell of her belly. New life fluttered, and without thinking about it, the corners of her lips raised slightly. When she realized she had smiled, she frowned slightly. “Sorry. I was thinking about something else. You were saying?”

  “I took the dressing off, and the wound is not where I hoped it would be. Ben’s temp has gone down but he’s still running a low-grade fever, and his arm is still warm to the touch around the injury.”

  “What are you going to do?” Liz asked.

  “Pray a lot. I changed the dressing, and I’m still hoping the maggots clean up the rest of the wound to let the antibiotics do the rest.”

  “Will you have to amputate if it doesn’t?” Liz asked.

  “God, don’t even suggest that. I would kill him. I’m not a surgeon.”

  Liz sighed. “What if he was about to die?”

  Before Carrie could answer, the sound of trucks approaching the lodge then stopping out front and parking interrupted the conversation. Both women turned at the sound of booted feet on the front porch.

  Liz’s father, Will, walked out of his office and announced. “That will be Randy and the tribal leaders. I want you to hang around. We need to let them know how Ben’s doing.”

  Carrie opened her mouth to answer, but the door swung open, and half a dozen men led by Randy walked into the lodge. Will crossed the room to greet them. He shook hands and spoke to each of the men in turn.

  “Welcome. Please come in and join me for some coffee and breakfast.” Will led the group to the great room and walked to a side table where Maria had laid out mugs for coffee and tortillas with eggs and potatoes. “Please, come help yourself. We have breakfast. Wish it was more but, we’re still getting our sustainability up and running.”

  Two of the men in western shirts and boot walked across the room to the table. They quietly poured cups of coffee then went to sit down. Despite that, they seemed less than comfortable in their new surroundings. One by one the remaining men retrieved breakfast, and water or coffee.

  When everyone settled for breakfast, Will announced. “I was hoping Ben would be able to join us, but that doesn’t seem to be possible at this time.”

  A young man with an angry glare jumped to his feet. “He’s been here three days. What have you done with him?”

  Will raised his hand, palm outward. “I can’t tell you specifics, but it’s my understanding he’s wound was severe.”

  An old man with a weathered face slowly stood and raised his hand. “Enough. We will not offend our host.”

  “Thank you.” Will looked at Carrie. “Our doctor can tell you more about Ben’s condition.”

  Carrie stepped closer to the assembly. “First of all. I’m not a doctor, I’m a Physician’s Assistant. As such, I have treated illnesses, wounds, broken bones, and minor injuries. This is not a minor injury. The wound is nearly six inches long, and the bone was visible in the lower portion of the opening. The tissue was infected and necrotic by the time I began treating Ben. I debrided the wound and started antibiotics the day he came into the clinic. His fever has broken. That’s a good sign.”

  The man Randy once called Romeo interrupted. “Then he’s ready to leave?” When Carrie didn’t answer right away, he added. “My name is Machn Nascha. Ben Nascha is my father.”

  Carrie was silent for a long minute then looked at Machn. “He’s far from ready to go anywhere. He needs time for the antibiotics to work. I just started him on pills.”

  “Not your decision,” Machn stated.

  “Then he could very well die.” Carrie turned and disappeared back down the hall toward the medical clinic.

  Machn turned to Will. “Tomorrow the people will be leaving. We are not ungrateful for your generosity, but we have decided to move the tribe into the mountains. Randy and I came across a valley. It has water, room for a camp and fields. We will live like our ancestors.”

  Will sighed. “If that’s your decision, we’ll provide seeds, whatever we can to help, of course.”

  One of the oldest men of the group turned to Will. “We do have one thing to ask. We had five who are not of the people. They do not want to follow our ways. We ask that you take them in.”

  “Of course,” Will answered as he looked at Randy who shrugged.

  “We will bring them to the lodge this afternoon.” The old man stood.

  The elders rose and thanked Will for his hospitality then filed out the door while Machn approached Randy. When the older men were gone, he asked. “I would like to visit my father.”

  “Right down the hall. Let me show you,” Liz announced.

  “Thank you,” Machn nodded.

  Machn followed Liz down the hall. At the first open door, he looked inside to see Carrie with three books spread across a table in front of her and a tablet with a handwritten list at her side. He continued past to the next door. Inside was a small medical ward where his father laid in the first bed. Ben was awake.

  “You look better,” Machn commented as he stepped into the room. He settled in the chair next to the bed and picked up his father’s hand. “Father?” He whispered.

  Ben smiled at his son. “You okay? You look
troubled, son.”

  Machn shrugged. “The elders have voted to leave and go up into the mountains. There’s a valley with water, good hunting and room to plant crops.”

  “That may not be the wisest of decisions,” Ben answered.

  Machn shrugged. “Not my decision.”

  Carrie walked to the door. “You can come in the morning. It will give me time to dress the wound one last time and cover it with fresh bandages. I’ll box up fresh supplies with instructions, and antibiotics enough for a month.”

  “I worked as an EMS. I don’t need instructions on changing the dressing,” Machn replied.

  “Typical! You ambulance jockeys always think you know more than you do,” Carrie scowled.

  “Face it you love us?” Machn turned and walked away.

  Liz and Randy walked to Carrie’s side, and the trio watched the six-foot Native American walk away. Randy chuckled. “He likes you, Carrie.”

  Carrie looked up and glared at her cousin. “He’s fickled. He liked Liz three days ago.”

  Liz smiles sweetly. “Randy told him I was married. Now he likes you.”

  Carry grinned back with a wicked smirk. “Keep laughing. You do know who’s joining our happy little group tomorrow, don’t you?”

  The End

  Thank you for sticking with our groups of survivors in their quest for a sanctuary in the world of infected taking over the state, country, and the world. I hope you come back for the next book that will follow. If you enjoyed this book, please leave a review on Amazon. Authors spend a great deal of time writing for your enjoyment, and your reviews make it all worth it.

  Thank you.

  C. A. Hoaks

  About the Author

  Charlotte Hoaks spent the last twenty years working as a Technical Writer for some of the largest energy companies in Houston, Texas. Now retired, she is devoting her time and energy to a new kind of writing.

  A life-long love of the written word has provided a solid foundation for her fiction writing. She’s been involved in local writer’s groups for over 30 years and published a number of online articles, editorials, and special interest newsletter.

  Thank you for reading “SURVIVE TEXAS DEAD.” If you’ve enjoyed this novel, please leave a review on Amazon

  Want more? Check out the online serial of the Torn Apart Series. http://charlottehoaks.com

  Check out the collection of short stories set in the Adrian’s Undead Diary world by Chris Philbrook. “ONLY THE LIGHT WE MAKE” on Amazon. The collection includes DEAD RISING, DAY ONE by C. A. Hoaks and additional authors: Chris Philbrook, Joe Tremblay, Shannon Walters, and many more.