by Hoaks, C. A.
John took a shot at another infected adult with a gaping abdominal injury that left his intestines spilling from the wound. The bullet hit him in the middle of the face. It tore out the back of his head sending bone and gore fanning out in a fine mist to paint the vehicle behind him.
Harry fired his handgun and took out a waitress. She slipped to the ground as if a marionette with the strings cut. The children stumbled past the body and headed for Liz and Harry.
Harry yelled, “Fire that damned gun, Lizzy!” He fired at yet another late comer that appeared from the back of an F-150. “Damn-it Lizzy, fire that weapon or we’re going to die!”
Liz aimed and shot at the young boy. A crimson bloom appeared in the middle of his forehead a split second before he fell. Hesitating only a second, she moved the muzzle to the left and fired again. The young girl collapsed in a heap of legs and arms, her blonde hair falling over her face, hiding the damage done by the bullet.
Silence filled the parking lot. Harry and John surveyed the damage done in less than three minutes. The bodies of ten adults and two children lay in the parking lot.
Liz stepped away from the bike and walked to the bodies of the children. “I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered, as she squatted next to the small bodies.
“We don’t have a choice,” Harry whispered. “If we’re going to find your girls, we have to keep on doing it again and again.”
Liz gently wiped the blonde hair from the face of the girl. “She was someone’s daughter. She should be smiling and laughing, not lying in the dirt.”
John disappeared inside the building for a few minutes then walked back to his bike. He rolled the motorcycle to the pump at the end of the island, removed the gas cap, and slid the nozzle in the gas tank. He selected unleaded and pressed the handle to start pumping gas.
Harry pulled Liz to her feet. “You’re right, but that isn’t the way the world is now.”
She followed him as he rolled the bike to the pump and retrieved the pump nozzle from John. She stood staring blankly as he filled his gas tank.
“Lizzy, the world we live in now sucks…no doubt about it, but it doesn't mean we quit. You got your girls to find and protect.” Harry took a deep breath. “John and I are old men. One of these days we could have a heart attack and not be there for you. You don’t have the luxury of checking out, again.” He pulled her face up to look at him. “Do you understand me?”
Liz squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. “I got it.” She pulled away. “I’m going to the bathroom.”
Liz walked away, feeling both John and Harry’s eyes following her. Harry was right. She had checked out. Liz walked toward the sign with an arrow pointing toward the restrooms. She stepped to the door and knocked on the barrier.
After listening for a full minute, she repeated the knocking with a bit more force. When she heard nothing, she raised her gun and jerked the door open to find an open room barely five foot square with a toilet and sink.
She did her business and flushed the toilet. Afterward, she stood staring at the paper swirling around the bowl. She imagined it was her life disappearing in front of her. She sighed and tried to just appreciate something as simple as using a toilet.
At the sink, she turned the handle and water spilled from the faucet. She pulled her t-shirt over her head and used paper towels to wash as much exposed skin as possible. She stuck her head under the trickle of water then scrubbed her fingers over the remains of a bar of soap at the side of the sink. She scrubbed her faced then slid her hands through her hair before rinsing as the water pressure dwindles to a bare trickle. Her hair would dry as brittle as straw with the soap residue, but she felt semi-clean.
She finger combed her short hair and then looked into the mirror. Her face bore fine lines that had not been there a few weeks ago. She looked years older, she decided, as she pulled the t-shirt back over her head. Would her husband even recognize her? She refused to think about Brian not surviving. If she thought about him not finding her, she would give up. She had to concentrate on the girls. They needed her, and she needed to find them. With that, she clenched her jaw and jerked the door open with the handgun held up and pointed to the outside.
Harry pushed the barrel of the gun aside. “Damn, Lizzy, you scared the shit out of me. I was about to come in after you. You’ve been in there a long time.”
“Sorry,” Liz answered. “There was a little water left in the pipes.”
“You look better. Do you feel better?” Harry asked.
“I’m good,” Liz answered. “I won’t freeze again.”
Getting back on the three-wheeled motorcycles, the trio of riders looked at the road sign verifying they were fifty miles from Kerrville. Harry glanced at John as he slowed his bike. “We need to make some plans.”
Slowing his own bike, John nodded at the sign and spoke into the helmet mic. “I think going into Kerrville would be a bad idea. We need to find a way around it.”
“We should head west on rural roads to avoid it,” Harry answered.
“We can’t do that,” Liz interrupted.
Harry asked over the intercom. “Your reasoning?”
Liz answered. “We don’t know the roads, and there’s a good chance we won’t be able to find more fuel. I’ve flown over West Texas, and you can drive hundreds of miles and see no sign of people. It’s dry, desolate terrain with scrub brush and dead end roads. If we break down out there, we die. We wouldn’t have a chance of walking out.”
John joined the conversation. “The maps we have won’t include the private roads and trails we could end up on by just heading west. As much as I hate to say it, Lizzy is right. We could end up running out of gas in a box canyon and be buzzard bait.”
“The alternative is not much better. We’ll be going through the small burgs and suburbs around Kerrville. There’s a good chance any populated area will be crawling with the dead,” Harry advised. “But I don’t guess there’s any way around it.”
“Alright, then we take sixteen to the Bandera Highway and skirt around Kerrville on the south side of the Guadalupe River on Highway 92,” John answered.
Chapter 7
Safety
The road sign said Utopia. The last dozen miles of highway had been cleared, and the only sign of infected in the area was charred ground with piles of bones in the center. They crested a ridge and stopped the truck to look down on the town. It looked quiet. Two side thoroughfares had been blocked and just past the intersection was a bridge that had large metal sheets on hinges welded to the sides. Houses on the side streets had been razed to ensure good line of sight views from the road leading up to the river approach. On either side of the bridge stood a fifteen-foot high guard tower with two men in each. The covered security platforms looked well-constructed, and the people seemed to be alert.
“It looks safe,” Della commented. “They have the town barricaded.”
“Yeah. But will the townfolks let people in, is the big question?” Steve answered.
“How can we tell?” Zack asked.
Steve chuckled. “They can see us and haven’t started shooting, so put this thing in gear and let’s head down there. Keep it slow.”
They rolled up to a makeshift gate. The men standing on the platforms straightened up and studied the approaching vehicle. When Zack stopped in front of the gate, one of the men called out, “Far enough. What do you want?”
Steve leaned out the passenger window and waved. “A little bit of comfort and joy,” Steve answered with a grin.
“Okay, smart ass. I know the owner of that truck, and you’re not him. If you don’t have a pretty good explanation, we’re gonna start shooting.”
Steve raised both hands. “We had some trouble. Three people at a small corner store about thirty miles from here were killed by a group of men in two big-ass trucks. The man who owned this truck was one of the people killed.”
Zack added, “The old man called one of the men Willie Baker.”
&
nbsp; “God damned Baker Boys,” The guard commented with a scowl. “I guess we’ll have to hunt those shit-heads down.”
Steve answered, “No, that won’t be necessary.”
“What do you mean?” The man asked.
“They killed one of our people, so we took care of ‘em. They won’t be hurting anyone else,” Steve answered.
“Well, shit. You, folks, have saved us a lot of trouble if what you’re saying is true. You can come in and rest a while.” A gruff voice called out.
“It’s what we’ve been hoping,” Steve answered. “Can you make arrangement for our man to be buried?”
“Of course. You’re welcome here folks, but we have a few rules you’ll have to follow.” A big man wearing a sweat-stained brown shirt announced, “Gotta be checked for bites and scratches.” He picked up a radio and talked into the mic, then waved to two men to open the gate. “We’ll make arrangement to bury your man, no worries there.”
The iron gates opened, and Zack drove the pickup across the bridge. The metal gate closed behind them, and a man directed them to park near a tent.
“You folks sit tight. We got someone coming to take care of the formalities for the ladies.”
An ATV pulled up, and a young woman wearing scrubs got off and walked to the tent. She stepped inside the tent, and the glow of lighting could be seen when she came out with a clipboard in hand. She nodded at the t-shirted man announcing she was ready to begin.
He walked up to the truck. “My name’s Ollie Ford. Before you can go any further folks, we got to make sure you ain’t infected. One at a time get out of the truck and go inside the tent. Either me or that young lady will take a good look at you. If that don’t suit, you turn around, and head back out the way you came.”
Steve shrugged. “Sounds reasonable. Any chance you can do your inspection out here?”
Ollie grinned. “If you boys don’t mind stripping down out here, I ain’t got no problems. The ladies can go inside the tent.”
Sandy and Della stepped out of the truck and disappeared into the tent. The young woman followed. Zack stood at the side of the truck and pulled his shirt off. He did a three-sixty, then dropped his pants and did the same thing.
Ollie grinned. “You’re fine son. Now, you.”
Steve opened the door, and Ollie saw Steve’s missing limbs. “Well, son-of-bitch. You took out the Baker boys, and you ain’t got no legs?”
Steve pointed to the fiberglass blades on the floor. “Got legs. Just been using them a little too much, lately. One of the reasons we need to rest.”
Still seated, Steve shrugged out of his shirt and then pulled up his short’s pant legs to expose the pale unblemished flesh of his upper legs. The bandage on one stump caused Ollie to frown.
Steve raised his hand palm outward. “Pressure sore from these.” He held up a prosthetic. Steve pulled the bandage from the stump.
Ollie sighed. “That looks like it hurts.”
Steve laughed. “Only when I walk.”
“I’ll bet. We got a pharmacist; maybe he can do something to help you.”
Ollie waved as Della, Sandy, and the young woman came out of the tent all smiles. The woman called out, “They're clean.”
Sandy and Della got in the truck, and Ollie stepped onto the running board on the driver’s side to direct Zack toward a building in the distance. “That’s the local motel. We’ve been putting folks up there until we either find a place for them or they move on. You folks pull right up there.” Ollie pointed to the corner unit of a two story motel. Once Zack parked the truck, Ollie stepped from the running board and announced, “I’ll get the keys and then see if we can locate a wheelchair.”
Della spoke up, “Thank you. He needs to stay on his butt for at least a week.”
Zack looked around at the pseudo-Mayberry appearance of the town and whispered, “Is this for real?”
Steve shrugged. “Appears to be but I have a feeling they’re going to want a lot more information about Baker.”
Ollie reappeared five minutes later and handed them two keys. “It was a good thing the motel didn’t have one of those fancy electronic key systems. You folks go on inside. I got you two rooms. They aren’t adjoining, but they’re next to each other. You folks can get cleaned up, and I’ll go see about getting some food brought over.”
He opened the door of the first room and stepped inside. He pulled back the curtains and opened the windows. When he reappeared, he commented. “Sorry, no electricity, but we do have water. Just be quick in the showers. We’re trying to conserve since we have to run a generator to fill the water tower.” He disappeared into the second room and did the same, then stepped into the afternoon sun.
“Go to the office if you need clean clothes. Got a bunch of stuff in there. Most people show up with just the clothes on their backs.”
Zack pulled the keys from the truck and pocketed them. He slipped out of the seat and to the gound, twisting his back, spreading his arms. “God, I’m tired of sitting in that truck.”
Della and Sandy opened doors and stepped from the cab. Steve reached for his prosthetics, but Della slapped his hands away. “Zack! You need to get Steve in the room, please.” She picked up the blades and slid them under her arms, then grabbed two backpacks and marched toward the first door. “I’ll go to the office and see what I can find in the way of clothes.”
Zack walked around to the passenger door and shrugged. “Sorry, man. She scares me.” He backed up to the opened door.
“Me, too.” Steve laughed, “Let’s get this done. Just take me straight to the bathroom.”
Zack squatted, and Steve leaned over to wrap his arms around Zack’s neck. He accepted Steve’s weight and straightened up as if the one hundred and sixty pounds were nothing. Zack clasped his hands around Steve’s thighs and walked into the last door. He walked into the bathroom and bent his knees to deposit Steve on the closed toilet lid.
“Need anything else?” Zack asked.
“No, I got this. See if you can get my blades back from the wicked witch of the west.” He chuckled.
“Uh huh. Not me, man. She’s got that look in her eye.”
Steve grinned and called out, “Chicken.”
Zack pulled the door closed still chuckling. He walked outside to sit at a picnic table under a spreading oak tree. He opened a bottle of water he had found inside the room and took a long gulp.
A child of four or five walked up to Zack. “Hi.”
He turned and saw a little blonde girl with huge blue eyes. “Hi.” He smiled back.
“Do you want some soda water?” She held out the red can.
“I don’t think so, little un. What I really want is a big juicy hamburger or Kentucky Fried Chicken,” he answered with a grin.
“My name is Penny.” She took a sip of the drink, then added, “My mommy goes to the clinic and works. We’re going to get a house with Granny. I stay with Granny when my mommy is working.”
“Penny? Where are you, child?” A wizened old black woman barely five-foot-tall stepped from a nearby room and looked around. “Oh. Well. Hi there, young man. Now, Penny, don’t you be bothering that nice young man.”
“I’m not. I’m sharing,” Penny answered in her little girl voice.
“Child, that young man needs more than a swallow of soda.” She disappeared into the room and came back with a bright red can. She passed it to Zack with a grin.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he answered. “That’s really kind of you.”
“You and your friends have been out there. Outside the walls?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m Millie Jackson, and this little minx is Penny Crawford. Her mother Darlene works at the medical clinic.”
Ollie walked up to the picnic table pushing a wheelchair. “Got this for your buddy, big guy. The person who used it didn’t make it so your friend can have it.”
Della and Sandy both stepped from their room in fresh clothes. They walked up to Ollie, a
nd Della stuck out her hand. “I’m Della Marshall. This is Sandy Thompson, and you’ve met Zack Davis, here.”
Ollie nodded to each of them.
“You’ve sorta met Steve Benton. We’re really grateful for a place to rest. Steve really needs some down time. He’s done a lot to keep us alive.”
Zack reached for the chair. “I’m gonna take this to Steve and then get cleaned up.”
Ollie laughed. “Good idea. No offense big guy, but you all were more than a little ripe.”
Zack shrugged. “No offense taken.”
“Don’t take too long. I have food coming for you folks since we’ve all eaten our dinner this evening.”
Zack disappeared into the room, and Steve rolled out in the wheelchair. He maneuvered the chair around the parking barriers and crossed the lot to the green space in two strong pushes of the large wheels. He made a three-sixty turn and then rocked back onto two wheels.
“Nice, chair.” Steve grinned at Ollie.
“Glad it suits,” Ollie answered. “A couple candles in the rooms is all we can offer right now for evenings, so use ‘em sparingly.” He looked up at an approaching hand-cart being pushed toward the motel by a bearded man in a white apron.
Chapter 8
Renegades
It was at least a couple hours before dawn when Captain Marcus Griggs made his report.
Major William Bishop glared at him. “What in the fuck do you mean, she’s gone?”
“Hill and all of her squad. Only ones left are those two dick-heads she was bitching about,” Griggs answered.
“So we’re down to eighteen men?” Bishop asked, his face mirroring his rage.
“Plus the two idiots,” Griggs explained. “We need more men if we’re going to survive this shit storm.”
Bishop turned to look at the remaining soldiers and vehicles he now considered his army. After a deep sigh, he finally answered. “The country is under martial law. That means the military can requisition assets and that includes men, as far as I’m concerned.”
