Torn Apart (Book 2): Dead Texas Roads

by Hoaks, C. A.

  “That’s not going to happen.” She headed toward the house with a hard look on her face. “Let’s do this.”

  Harry placed his hand on the doorknob just as Liz stepped on the porch. He turned the knob and pushed. The door opened. Warm air smelling of dried rose petals and a hint of dust escaped the closed darkened room beyond. After clicking his small LED light, Harry stepped inside with Liz close on his heels.

  The dark burgundy drapes over the windows of the old fashion parlor obscured the late afternoon light. Harry moved the circle of the stark white beam from one side of the room to the other.

  “Doesn’t look like anyone is here and hasn’t been for some time,” Harry commented. “But let’s make sure, then settle down for the night.”

  Liz nodded. “I’m good.”

  Harry turned to John. “Watch the road.”

  Together, Liz and Harry approached each room with weapons drawn. Once the downstairs was cleared, they walked up to the second story to do the same. They entered the first room and saw a guest bedroom and empty closet. The second door was a bedroom still in use. Nothing was out of place. A worn cotton nightgown of flannel lay across the pillow on a sagging double bed. A man’s plaid pajamas lay folded at the foot of the same bed.

  Liz looked down and smiled. She could imagine the old couple who lived in the house before the world turned crazy. Just as suddenly the image in her mind shifted to them stumbling down a road together as monsters, searching for warm human flesh to consume. She frowned.

  “It’s clear. Let’s settle in,” Harry whispered softly.

  Liz turned and followed Harry until he stepped outside. She stopped to watch him walk out into the yard where John waited. They spoke together briefly, then John walked to the front gate and secured the latch, while Harry carried bags to the porch. When John returned, the two men brought their machines closer to the house.

  The kitchen was sparsely appointed, but clean. There was a gas stove, an ancient refrigerator, and worn white porcelain sink. The glass doors on the cabinets displayed an impressive number of carnival glass dishes behind the glass. A wire drain rack sat next to the sink. Placed inside was an upside down coffee pot along with two coffee cups.

  Liz glanced around and noticed the page of a paper calendar had been taped to the refrigerator door. Liz looked closer and realized it was a schedule. There was a day circled in red. It was THAT day, the day the world ended. In ink was written: Last Chemo!

  Liz picked up a stack of envelopes from the table and fanned through the return addresses. There were nearly half a dozen statements from a cancer treatment center in a San Antonio. The owners of the house would not be coming back. She turned away and dropped the stack of paper back to the table.

  A sudden noise behind her made Liz spin around with her gun drawn to face danger. She stood staring at the sink when she saw a single drop of water fall from the faucet to ping on a metal pie tin in the sink.

  She walked to the sink and turned a handle and jumped back when water spewed from the faucet. She tested both faucets then turned the water off. Excited, she looked toward the stove. It was a gas stove. She held her breath and turned one of the knobs. It clicked twice, then blue flames appeared in a circle under a front burner. She quickly turned off the gas and ran to the back door.

  “They have a working gas stove and water!” she called to the two men parking their bikes at the back of the house.

  “All right!” John answered with a wide grin. “I saw a chicken coop, so I’ll look for eggs, maybe even catch a chicken for supper.”

  Harry laughed. “We’ll eat something besides jerky and flatbread tonight.”

  Liz asked, “Why is there water?”

  Harry pointed to solar panels on the roof of a metal shed at the back of the house. A black cable ran from the panels to a metal pump shed.

  “It’s why the animals still have water. That and the infected haven’t found the place.”

  Liz glanced around as she walked through the house. It was a time capsule of life before the attacks. In the kitchen, she opened drawers and cabinets. The woman of the house was an orderly housekeeper even down to the junk drawer. Liz laid out two lighters and a book of matches before closing the drawer.

  She opened a side door and stepped out onto an enclosed sun porch and saw a chest freezer near the door. She noticed the glow of a run light at the bottom and reached a trembling hand to raise the lid. She gasped at the cold white mist that billows from the depths.

  When the air cleared, she smiled at the site of the treasure of food inside. She reached into the freezer for one of the plastic bagged loaves of home-made bread and walked back into the kitchen. John grinned as he held out a straw lined wire bucket with a dozen eggs inside.

  “Bread!” John laughed. “Thought I’d never have bread again. “

  Liz grinned. “It was in the freezer on the sun porch…It has all kinds of food inside.”

  “Bet the frig is on the same circuit as this freezer,” John commented.

  Harry walked to the sink and turned the faucet. “This place is fucking unbelievable!”

  He stuck his hands under the stream of water and sighed deeply when the stream grew warm. He splashed water and scrubbed at the grime on his hands and face. He stuck his head under the faucet and let the water run over it.

  Liz glanced around the kitchen and found a hand towel hanging on the back of a chair. She gave it to Harry as he turned off the water.

  “I can’t believe the water and power,” she commented.

  “It’s a real find,” Harry sighed. “We all could sure use a real shower. Some of us are a little ripe. Before we do, we need to set up a hillbilly alarm.”

  “Speak for yourself, kemosabe,” John laughed. “I saw a barrel of cans out back. We can use string if I don’t find any wire out back.”

  “There’s some in the drawer beside the sink,” Liz answered.

  “Did you figure anything out about the owners?” Harry asked.

  Liz nodded at the table. “They were in San Antonio.” She walked to the stove and turned on the front burner. “Give me a couple minutes to fry some eggs, then we can get busy.”

  “Yeah, my backbone met my belly-button about two hours ago.” John laughed.

  A few minutes later, they each faced an egg sandwich smeared with mayonnaise. The two men ate hungrily with only grunts for comments. When finished, neither were satisfied, but it would have to be enough to get them through the next few hours. Liz picked at the egg on her plate struggling to swallow each bite. In the end, she ate a few bites of dry bread, then covered the leavings with a paper towel.

  “If you catch a chicken we can have it for a late dinner,” Liz announced as she got to her feet.

  “Sounds good.” Harry grinned.

  “Let’s get this shit done,” John encouraged. “I’ll catch the chicken later.”

  Liz and the two men crossed the yard to a tool shed. After clearing the small building, Harry rifled through tools and gardening supplies and found a roll of thin wire. He stuck a pair of wire cutters in his back pocket and headed back outside. After tying off the end at the corner of the shed, Harry headed toward the small barn. He walked about six feet, twisted the wire around the can lid, dropped three or four rocks inside. He pushed the lid closed and tested the alarm with a flick of his hand. The stones rattled against the side of the can.

  Harry handed the wire roll to John. He held the wire tautly, while Harry repeated the process half a dozen times. John wrapped the wire around a post, then secured the end with a twist of his wrist. He looked back at the thigh-high can-alarms and grinned.

  Liz asked, “How can I help?”

  “Put rocks in cans and use that string to balance them between the wooden posts out front,” Harry stated. “You only need to put a couple on each section of fencing.”

  “Let’s get done before dark,” John added.

  “Got it,” Liz answered.

  Liz picked up a plastic bag from
the kitchen, walked back to the can pile and filled it with soda cans, then headed toward the fence. When she got to the fence, she picked up a handful of rocks. She dropped a few in a can and shook it. She looped the string around a post, then the can tab of two cans. She pulled the string tight around the next post and repeated the process. When she was finished, she brushed her finger against the string and the stones inside the cans rattled. Not loud, but in the quiet of the night, without traffic, they should be enough. She finished the alarm-cans and headed for the house.

  She walked past the guys crouched at the side of John’s bike. “I’m going inside to get cleaned up. I’ll be ready for that chicken in thirty minutes.”

  Harry threw a wave and answered, “No problem. It’s getting dark, so we’ll be in pretty quick. Don’t turn on lights if you can help it. Try to find candles and cover the windows.”

  “Got it,” Liz answered.

  Thirty minutes later, Liz wore a fresh pair of jeans that were a little big but like the man’s plaid shirt, serviceable. She used the old washer to clean her close then hung them on a clothesline at the side of the house. John, good to his word, spent several minutes chasing chickens around the barnyard until he finally caught a scrawny-looking, gimpy hen. He cut the head off, then delivered the fowl to Liz with a big grin.

  “That’s a pretty sad looking chicken,” Liz retorted.

  “Lucky I caught it. Do you want me to gut it?”

  “No, I can take care of it. Just finish what you’ve been doing and come on inside. I can wash your clothes.”

  “We’re okay. It’s quiet out here.” John walked away, glancing around at the deepening shadows.

  Anticipating the need to clean the chicken, Liz had filled a large pot with water and put it on to heat before she went into the bathroom. Once clean for the first time in weeks, Liz walked back into the kitchen to retrieve the pot of heated water. Before carrying the pot outside, she half-filled a stock pot with water then set it on the lit burner to heat. She carried the larger pot outside and set it on a wooden step where the evening meal lay.

  Liz grabbed the chicken by the back legs and dunked the feathered bird into hot water. She swished the bird around for a minute, then held it up to tug at a couple feathers. When the feathers didn’t pull free easily, she jammed the bird back in the pot and sloshed it around again. The aroma of wet feathers wafted up from the scalding water. Liz fought nausea as she pulled at the feathers that came out with barely a tug. A few minutes later, the chicken lay plucked clean at her feet. Liz threw out the water, picked up a knife and cut open the back end of the chicken. With a quick flick of the blade, she opened up the cavity and clawed out the organs. She dumped the offal into a bucket holding the feathers, saving the gizzard, liver, and heart. Liz dropped the chicken into the empty pan with the kitchen knife.

  John walked up to the back of the house just as Liz finished dressing the chicken. “I wondered if you knew how to do that.”

  “If you were going to help, you’re a little late,” Liz answered. “Do you mind taking the bucket to the garden and bury the guts.”

  “I got it,” John picked up the pail. “Since you’re cooking and I’m such a nice guy.”

  “Well, nice guy, if you hurry up, there’s time for both of you to shower while I fix dinner.”

  Liz picked up the pot, ready to head inside. Harry opened the door to let her enter the back porch and turned to John. “Keep an eye on things while I shower. When I’m done, I’ll relieve you. I know the animals are still around, and it’s been safe until now, but I still think we need to keep watch.”

  Harry followed Liz inside as she commented, “You don’t believe that it’s safe?”

  He answered, “As long as the place doesn’t get noticed by roaming infected or other survivors, it should be safe for quite a while. The floodlights are turned off. It explain a lot. The house is off the beaten path and anyone seeing it probably figured it was abandoned, just like us. We need to keep it that way. No lights after dark.”

  “No problem,” Liz answered. “I found a whole box of dinner candles and a package of emergency candles in the pantry. We can cover the windows with plastic trash bags.”

  Harry accepted a small candle anchored to a plate with melted wax. He disappeared into the gloom of the darkening hall.

  Meanwhile, Liz cut up the chicken and dropped the pieces into boiling water. She added onions, salt, and pepper then retrieved the potatoes from the refrigerator and walked to the sink to peel them. Through the window, she watched as John appeared from around the corner of the shed with the bucket in hand.

  He stepped into the kitchen and set the bucket on the edge of the sink. After Liz had glanced inside to see lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and bell peppers, he announced. “I noticed these in the garden. I thought it would make a decent salad.”

  Harry walked into the kitchen from the back of the house, wearing a pair of overalls at least a couple sizes too small evident by his hooking a single strap over one shoulder to keep from walking funny.

  John laughed. “Farmer Harry! I never thought I’d ever see you in a pair of overalls.”

  “Fuck you.” Harry groused as he raised his hand with his middle finger extended upwards. “I take it, all’s quiet.”

  “I walked the perimeter. If anything show’s up, the livestock and fencing in the back will slow ‘em down so we can get outta here.”

  Harry nodded, then ordered, “Get your sorry ass upstairs and cleaned up. You smell like shit.”

  “You weren’t exactly fields of lilies yourself,” John retorted.

  “You can find something to wear in the bedroom, then drop your clothes outside the bathroom door. There’s an old style washer on the back porch.” Liz forced a smile. “I’ll put them out there to soak.”

  John grinned as he walked away. “Ten minutes top.”

  “Don’t be too long. Dinner’ll be ready as soon as I put the salad together and make dumplings.”

  Liz picked up John’s clothes and made a trip to the back porch to put the clothes in the washer. She turned a lever, and the agitator started the washing. While out there, she retrieved a bag of homemade noodles from the freezer and walked back inside the house. Opening the bag, she dumped the noodles into the pot with the chicken and turned up the heat. She added some thickening then left it to boil. She put two scoops of flour in a bowl, added a couple tablespoons of shortening, salt and made powdered milk to use as the liquid. Liz spooned dumplings into the boiling chicken and noodles and replaced the lid.

  Harry, with a little guidance from Liz, put the salad together. He set it on the table just as John appeared in his own pair of overalls. Unlike Harry, who barely fit into the faded denim, John buttoned both straps and even wore a borrowed white t-shirt underneath.

  Liz walked to the porch and stopped the agitator on the old Maytag and pulled the drain plug. She left the washer to drain then walked back into the house to set dinner on the table. She lit a couple candles in the fading afternoon light then sat the pot of chicken and noodles on the table beside a big bowl of mashed potatoes and a bowl of the salad.

  “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” John announced as he scooped potatoes on his plate. He ladled noodles and dumpling on top and let a chicken thigh slide to his plate.

  “Looks mighty good, Lizzy,” Harry commented.

  Liz place small portions on her plate tried a few bite then sat picking at a slice of bread until she Harry watched her as he brought spoonful after spoonful of food to his mouth. “Lizzy?”

  Liz looked up. “Sorry. I guess I tasted too much,” she pushed the plate away and rose. “I’ve got to get the clothes on the line.”

  She walked to the back porch and used the wringer to press the water from the clothes, then dropped them into the fresh water she had started running into the tank. After a brief agitation, she wrung out the close one last time, dropping each piece in a basket. When she was done, she carried the clothes to the clothesline and h
ung them over the wire using the wooden clothes pins to secure the laundry.

  She put left overs away then started washing dishes when Harry interrupted. “Why are you doing that? We’re leaving in the morning.”

  Liz shrugged. “It seems disrespectful to leave the kitchen a mess. Maybe they’ll come back.”

  “Lizzy?” Harry whispered.

  Liz raised a wet hand to the plastic covered window and looked out at the fading light. The room had grown dark with only two candles on the table. She pressed the duct tape back against the windowsill. “I know they’re probably dead, but this has been a refuge for us. Maybe it’ll be that for someone else.”

  “I’ll check out front and make sure the doors are closed,” John announced.

  When John was gone, Harry asked, “What’s the matter, Lizzy?”

  “Nothing. I need to find my family,” she answered in a whisper.

  “That’s not it,” Harry replied.

  “You know as well as I do what the world is like out there. How could three men keep them safe? Babies cry. If Claire cried, it could be death for all of them. A ten-year-old can’t keep up with grown men if they have to run. How can we find them?”

  “Lizzy, it’s turned into a really dangerous world.” Harry shrugged. “But that’s not the problem, is it? We need to get you to your old man’s place. You can’t keep riding around on that damned motorcycle. Not now.”

  Liz placed her hands on her lower abdomen. “I have my girls to find before I can worry about anything else.”

  Harry blew out a breath. “No. We’re done. Your girls are in the hands of God’s protectors. We’ve been chasing around the country roads looking for military vehicles that we can’t even be sure passed this way.”

  “But….” Liz protested.

  “We can’t keep taking chances now. If you don’t survive, neither will this child. The girls will have no one to come home to.” Harry turned to walk away, then turned back and added, “What would your husband want you to do?”

  Chapter 14

  New Normal