Winchester Undead (Book 2): Winchester: Prey

by Dave Lund

  Apollo and Chivo loaded the Land Rover with everything they decided they would need for their mission to South Texas, including some spares of their communications gear with earpieces and throat mics. If what Cliff told them was true, they might need to give some survivors a bit of gear so they could move and communicate effectively.

  Lindsey looked at the old-style woodland BDUs that they’d found in her small size; the crisp clean fabric made her feel dirty. Her jeans were dark and greasy from the weeks of wear and days of surviving on the top of the highway sign. She was fairly sure she smelled horrible. The guys found some wet wipes and took an “astronaut bath,” as they called it, before putting on clean underwear, shirts and ACUs. She took her sneakers and socks off before pulling her shirt over her head and stripping naked. Her panties looked disgusting and she was afraid to get too close to them for what they might smell like. They were quickly discarded into the throw-away pile. With a fresh box of wet wipes, she began with her face and worked her way down. The smell of the wet wipes brought a flood of memories rushing back. Memories of her family. They smelled just like baby wipes, and for the first time in weeks, she thought of her baby cousins and her sister’s first child, a baby girl born two weeks before Christmas. She tried to finish wiping herself down, but ended up sitting naked on the cold concrete floor, crying.

  Apollo walked around the side of the Land Rover and stopped in his tracks, caught off guard at the sight of Lindsey sitting completely nude on the ground, sobbing into her hands. Apollo’s first and only marriage had lasted exactly ten months, just the amount of time it took for him to return from his first clandestine mission after being selected for The Unit. Not to say that Apollo wasn’t experienced with women; he just wasn’t very good at knowing what to say or do when someone he cared about was emotional. He resisted the urge to retreat back to the other side of the Land Rover, so he walked to Lindsey, sat beside her, and softly held her hand. Lindsey looked at him, her eyes puffy and red, her cheeks wet. “They’re all gone, aren’t they? My family is all gone and I’ll never see them again.”

  He wanted to lie; Apollo wanted to say everything was all right, but he couldn’t. He decided to tell the truth. “They probably are. I don’t think many people survived this attack, but you have, and you have to live every day to honor their memory and their love. You know that is what they would want you to do.”

  Lindsey began sobbing again. This time Apollo wrapped his big arms around her, Lindsey burying her face in his strong chest. Apollo was scared to move, afraid that he’d told Lindsey the wrong thing, but eventually her crying slowed and her breathing came back to normal. She locked eyes with Apollo and whispered, “Thank you” before giving him a kiss on the cheek.

  Lindsey stood and pulled the desert brown men’s briefs to her waist. They’d been unable to find any women’s underwear. The Under Armour shirt would have to serve as her bra until they could raid a Walmart or other store for her. Apollo sat there, stunned at what had happened. Strong-minded and of Type-A personality, Apollo simply couldn’t comprehend Lindsey’s emotional swing. Although he did smile upon noticing that her legs were hairy, which he guessed should be expected after the end of the world and all. Lindsey finished getting dressed, tied the laces of her new tactical boots, and looked down at Apollo still sitting on the floor.

  “So are you going to sit there all day or are you going to teach me how to use my new rifle?”

  Apollo smiled, stood, and looked at his new and also functioning watch. They had about seven hours until sunrise.

  CHAPTER 38

  The Basin

  February 17, Year 1

  Jessie didn’t dare move a muscle or even open her eyes quickly. She couldn’t remember what happened and didn’t know where she was, but as consciousness crashed back into focus, some of her new nightmare started replaying in her mind. She had watched Keeley die; she had held her little girl in her arms as life drained from those little green eyes. After that, she remembered being beaten and dragged into a vehicle. The vehicle looked familiar, but Jessie couldn’t recall the details.

  Carefully and slowly Jessie wiggled her toes; they felt like they worked. She couldn’t feel her arms and her shoulders burned harshly. Slowly she tried to open her eyes, the lids crusted heavily with dried blood and tears. The room was dark, but the moonlight filtered in through a small window. Her arms were tied tightly behind her and she was on the floor. Jessie realized she was naked and a wave of fear washed over her that she might have been raped.

  Slowly more memories came back into focus and she remembered being beaten and spit on, but she didn’t think anyone had raped her, yet. Jessie slowly turned her head and pain exploded from behind her eyes. The pain was so strong that it made her feel like the room was spinning even though she was lying on the floor. She felt like she was falling into a dark hole.

  Jessie gasped awake. A flickering candle made shadows dance around the room. The room was familiar, and then she realized she was in a cabin in the park. Another woman sat down, her face blotched with dark purple patches, deep bruises visible in the dim light. She was also nude. The woman held a cup to Jessie’s lips and slowly poured water into her mouth. Then, she took a wet cloth and gently cleaned the dried blood, tears, and snot off Jessie’s face. Jessie could smell urine and then remembered two men in leather vests pissing on her.

  The unknown woman whispered into her ear. “Don’t fight. Submit to them and they won’t beat you as badly. If you’re lucky, one of them will choose you to be his old lady, and then you’ll be protected from the others.”

  Jessie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She had no intention on submitting to anyone except Bexar, and even then their relationship was built on trust and respect, not submission. The other woman untied Jessie’s hands. Her hands, wrists, and arms throbbed in protest as blood flowed back into the muscles when she brought her hands from behind her back.

  “Thank you,” croaked Jessie.

  “My name is Mary. If you do what I tell you to do, you might be able to survive. Otherwise, the men might kill you once they’re done with you, or they might just keep beating you.”

  Jessie couldn’t speak; she only nodded slightly, scared to move much more for the pain that held just on the edge of being unbearable. Mary gave her two white pills. “This will help with the pain.” Jessie didn’t know what the pills were, but she took them. She was barely able to swallow; the pills felt like they stuck in her throat.

  “In a couple of hours, I’ll try to sneak you in some more vikes, but those will have to do for now. I better get back to the female cabin before I’m caught. You’ll start to feel better in about ten minutes.”

  Mary blew out the candle and quietly walked out of the cabin, leaving Jessie shivering in the dark. Jessie was scared to climb into the bed. She felt more vulnerable than she had ever felt in her life. A few moments later, she could feel the pain starting to fade. She crawled into the corner of the cabin on the other side of the bed, pulled the blanket off the bed and curled into a tight ball in the corner, hoping that her Bexar was still alive and that he could save her.

  Terlingua, Texas

  Bexar rode much faster than he should have been riding, the dark highway’s curves appearing suddenly in the darkness. More than once, he had to swerve to dodge a walking corpse in the roadway. The eastern horizon faintly glowed with the approaching sunrise as he roared past the large Big Bend sign entering the park. For some reason, all Bexar could think about was Hannibal from the A-Team. He had no plan and he had no idea how it would all come together. There was only one thing Bexar was sure of—he was going to kill every single biker in the park. But to do that, he would have to sneak into The Basin from the trail going over The Window. He wasn’t sure they would be in The Basin, but that’s where the cabins were and that’s where they’d attacked before; it was the most likely place and the first place to look. Bexar hoped they didn’t know about the trail over The Window; he didn’t think they would have
discovered it in such a short time. Regardless, it was a better plan than riding up the main road.

  Thirty minutes later, Bexar pulled off the Ross Maxwell onto the rocky road to the trailhead and where he had stashed the Wagoneer and RV before, hoping if the bikers heard the motorcycle, they would assume it was one of their own. That day seemed like it had happened years ago. Bexar stopped the motorcycle in the same spot the Wagoneer had been parked, pushed the side stand down, and stepped off the bike, which slid in the dirt and promptly fell over. Bexar shook his head. “Fuck this bike. I’m taking back my cabin.”

  Bexar removed the fireworks from a saddlebag, stuffed them in his go-bag, and took a step towards the trailhead. His right leg erupted in pain. The whiskey’s ability to hold the pain of the gunshot wound at bay was quickly fading, and a hangover was approaching. Angry at himself, Bexar dug the other saddlebag out from under the motorcycle and pulled the zip-top bag full of drugs out. He took the bag of Vicodin out and stuffed it in his pocket, but not before washing two of them down with a bottle of water. The empty plastic bottle dropped to the ground. Bexar stepped gingerly to test his leg and then started limping slowly up the dark trail towards The Window.

  CHAPTER 39

  Groom Lake, Nevada

  February 17, Year 1

  Cliff and Wright sat in a conference room with the chosen leaders of the two civilian groups that had arrived at their facility just a few hours prior. The arrivals were still in quarantine, but after the SITREP from Rick, Cliff wanted to hear more about the group’s survival and specifically about the militant aggressor group in Colorado.

  Mike Rodriguez represented the Dumas, Texas group, and Jake Sills the group from Cortez. Both men wore new and clean BDUs and both bore the look of someone who’d had a full meal and a hot shower for the first time in a long time. Cliff knew that look well, having worn it himself many times after long missions. Still, both of the new men looked uneasy, unsure of their new positions in the government facility.

  Cliff looked each man in the eyes and began. “Gentlemen. Welcome to your new home. You are welcome here as long as you choose and as long as you contribute to the group. I know you both have a lot of questions, but first let me cover some things, which may give you some of the answers you’re looking for.

  “My name is Cliff, and I’m in charge of the facility here. Many years ago, I was chosen by the United States Government to help facilitate the continuity of government, the survival of the United States, for a time that might come like what we have today. We, the intelligence community, knew this attack was coming, but the timetable caught us by surprise. We didn’t expect the Chinese to achieve success in their development of the virus so quickly.

  “You probably don’t know this, but the Chinese, along with North Korea, initiated the surprise attack on the U.S. They detonated multiple nuclear warheads high in the atmosphere to generate an Electromagnetic Pulse, or EMP, which disabled just about every piece of technology on the continent. The reanimated corpses, zombies if you will, are also a result of the attack. The modified bombers they used were drones, either flown remotely or completely computer-controlled; we’re not sure. Regardless, they sprayed the populated areas with the engineered virus that jump-started this whole mess. Obviously, you see the results of the infection.”

  Jake started to speak, but Cliff held up his hand.

  “The Yama Strain is what we call it. It was first found by the Nazis in the Himalayas during one of their expeditions to research their idea of the master race. They tried to develop it, but couldn’t; they ran out of time and technology. The Soviets tried as well and failed, taking the facilities researching the strain and the scientists during the end of the war behind the Iron Curtain. After the fall of the USSR, the Chinese ended up with it, and obviously they were successful. This facility we’re at was on the cutting edge of finding a way to fight the virus, but the scientists and doctors working on that project were killed when the facility was overrun by reanimates. The last hope we had was killed when one of his research specimens broke containment and started another outbreak in the facility. Developing anything to fight the virus is thought to be impossible now. We are left only with survival.

  “That brings us to our current mission—find as many survivors as we can, help them as much as we can, and get as many of them as possible back to the safety of Groom Lake. As we gain more numbers, we can start expanding from this facility, but we have to start here.”

  Jake spoke first. “So how many others are here?”

  “Your two groups are the first civilians we’ve brought in. The major arrived with his handful of airmen from Colorado a few weeks ago. Rick and his group of special operators just arrived when we took command of the plane we used to evacuate you.”

  “Have you contacted many other survivors? What about our military? What about China?”

  Wright nodded. “Jake, we’ve contacted a good number of survivors, but we believe there are many more that we can’t contact due to the lack of communications gear that survived the EMP. As for the military, many of the bases and installations were completely overrun. Soldiers aren’t typically armed or ready for an attack when garrisoned in CONUS. As for any overseas groups, we haven’t been successful yet, but we’re hoping in time our luck will change in that regard. Same with our naval vessels that are still at sea. Hopefully, as we speak, surviving vessels are sailing home as fast as they can. We’re still trying to contact them. The only contact we’ve had outside of the U.S. are some spotty reports on the shortwave bands coming from the UK, and a transmission from the International Space Station that they were going to wait for their supplies to dwindle while attempting to convert a Dragon supply capsule to use for a return trip to Earth. After those initial transmissions with the ISS, we haven’t been able to reestablish contact.”

  “Fine, but what about China? We’re at war, right? Are we still under attack?”

  Wright frowned. “We haven’t been able to detect any transmissions from mainland China since the onset of the attack. Satellite imagery appears that the urban centers are completely overrun by the undead, just as we are here. They appear to be in the same state of emergency that we are. All we can assume at this point is that somehow they lost containment of the virus.”

  Jake shook his head. “But if they were planning an attack, wouldn’t they have invasion forces? Do you think there are any Chinese troops here?”

  Cliff raised his eyebrows. “Quite frankly, we haven’t had the chance to consider that, because we’ve been so focused on trying to establish a survivable foothold and locating survivors. China’s ability to move personnel and equipment has been quite limited historically, but a lot of the West Coast has been obscured by smoke for the past few weeks. But you’re right, just because we didn’t know about any troop transport ships of any significance doesn’t mean they didn’t build them. They did sneak the attack by us, after all. Major, would you put together some people to look into that?”

  Wright jotted some notes on his notepad and nodded.

  “Now, for our new guests: we should be able to release you from quarantine once you reach the forty-eight hour mark, but I have something for you to work on while you’re in there. As your groups are the first civilian arrivals, you will be tasked with drafting the civilian rules, duties, rotation schedules for those duties, and leadership structure. We can meet tomorrow afternoon to discuss your starting thoughts, but please keep in mind that the Constitution is still the supreme law of the land. Our job is to uphold it; your job is to live it.

  “Now Jake, I want you to tell me your group’s survival story, and I want all the details you have about the aggressor group of survivors left in Cortez.”

  CHAPTER 40

  Pyote, Texas

  February 17, Year 1

  Lindsey sat on the cold concrete floor, her new M4 field-stripped, while Apollo walked her through the process of inspecting and cleaning her new rifle. The past two hours had been spent teaching h
er how to operate and use the rifle, followed by a lot of live fire training. If someone came to the supply cache after them, they would be really upset if they needed spare tires for their Humvee.

  Luckily the cache had numerous pallets of XM193 .556 ammo for their rifles. More than they could count. So they had no worries about using up their ammunition in training. In fact, their biggest worry with their ammo supply was that they’d loaded too much into the Land Rover and the weight would cause problems.

  Even though at the beginning she was intimidated by the rifle and all the gear, by the end of her training, Lindsey was beginning to move and shoot like an old pro, pulling loaded magazines out of the mag pouches on her vest carrier, dumping the empty mags in a dump pouch, and even making smooth transitions from her rifle to her pistol. Although her accuracy still needed work, it was close enough that it could make a difference. It would take her more shots than Apollo or Chivo, but she would eventually get the job done and be a productive member of their fighting unit. Apollo was confident that if they had a month, he could turn Lindsey into someone who would be at home on any top-level SWAT team in the country.

  “I didn’t even think I would enjoy this kind of shooting this much. All I ever did was shoot skeet in high school.”

  “Well, times have changed, my friend. And I’m glad that now you have the skills to make sure you’ll never be trapped on top of a highway sign again in your life.”

  Lindsey gave Apollo a long look with a gentle smile before Chivo interrupted, “If you’re done holding hands with the senorita, come make a final inspection of our load out so we can get wheels up. We only have a few more hours until sunrise and then we need to get moving.”