by Hoaks, C. A.
With a plan, Della began jogging through the woods. Branches and briars whipped at her arms and legs. Stick-tights were clinging to her pant legs, and shoes strings when she came out of the woods a short distance from the stable and ranch buildings. She glanced back toward the feeding monsters. The surviving horses had crossed the pasture and now were huddled together in front of the barn. They stood trembling at the gate, eyes wild with terror. Where were the ranchers? Why were they not protecting the horses? Were they the monsters feeding on the thoroughbreds?
Della hurried to the white fencing then hid behind a post while she studied the paddock and the area around the outermost buildings. The horses suddenly raced to the corner nearest the buildings. The wandering pair of monsters followed the movements and turned to head in their direction. When the infected finished feeding on the carcasses at the front of the paddock, they would come for the rest. Della had to move.
She climbed over the white painted fence and hurried across the open pasture toward the gate where the remaining horses gathered. She drew closer, and the beautiful black and brown horses stamped and skittered away from her. They were terrified.
Della studied the pasture and saw the infected had lost interest in the carcasses and were stumbling toward the remaining animals. The horses began prancing and charging toward the gate, then back to the open paddock looking for an escape. She stopped and whispered, “Whoa…it’s okay.” She cooed.
A big black mare turned at the sound of her voice and quietened. Della kept whispering calming words and the horse separated from the group and nickered. The black took a step toward her, and Della stopped. She held out her hand, and the horse nuzzled her palm. The mare nickered softly as if pleading for help.
“I’ll get you out of here. Just let me through.” She stepped closer, and the black pushed the rest of the terrified equine aside. Slowly, Della made her way to the gate. She walked past the nervous animals with the black at her side.
Della stepped around a brown horse to the wooden gate and reached the top to unhook the latch. She pulled the gate toward her and all but the black mare charged through almost trampling her in the mad rush to escape the infected. She stumbled back against the gate and fell to her knee. An infected appeared from behind the spooked animals and reached toward her through the fence. The Black dashed forward and reared up. Metal shoed hooves came down on the infected teen again and again until the monster lay still.
Della pulled herself to her feet, retrieved the gun and looked at the remains of the infected. The gray flesh was barely recognizable as human, and the stench was stomach churning. The Black nudged her toward the gate. “Got it. Let’s go, girl, before the rest of those monsters gets here.”
The horse and Della got through the gate and Della re-latched it. She grabbed a length of rope hanging from a fence post and looped it around the gate. She wove the rope around the gate, the corner post and crisscrossed down a couple times, then tied it off with a square knot. Della turned from the fence and jogged to the barn door. She slowed and looked into the gloom. The building had a main passageway with horse stalls on either side opening toward the middle. While the rest of the horses raced through the corridor and disappeared behind the buildings, the black followed her. When the black didn’t follow, the remaining horses slowed and watched from a distance.
Della approached the stables with a real sense of foreboding. It was dark inside. She was terrified at the thought of entering the stable but knew she had to find the veterinary supplies. Finally, she squared her shoulders and walked into the gloom. She got to the first door and recognized it as a stall. She quickened her pace and hurried past five more, toward the opposite end of the building. Each dark opened gate terrified her, but she moved through the building out into the barnyard beyond. The office wasn’t in the building. She walked out into the sun and looked from one side of the open grounds to the other.
The owner’s home was a white, plantation-style building with white pillars and a huge veranda circling the house. The gravel drive sat empty. The only evidence of something amiss was the front door standing open, and a shattered window with blood smeared across the sill at the side.
Della glanced toward the closest building. It was built as a miniature of the stable version of the bar. Someone had been planting flowers at the side of the front door. The half empty flat and gardening tools lay at the edge of the bed. Above the door, a sign identified the building as the ranch manager’s office. She glanced around the yard one last time, then jogged toward the building. With the 9mm in hand, Della approached the building. She could hear the mare walking close on her heels. Feeling paranoid, she looked from left to right and back again. When she glanced over her shoulder looking for more infected, she realized the mare grew more agitated the closer she got to the building. When she reached for the door, the black shied away and pranced back and forth nervously. Della leaned closer to the door and shaded her eyes to peek through the window. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw blood smeared on the inside of the glass door. When she looked closer, she saw a bloody handprint on the door handle. The black mare knew…
“Shit!” she cursed as she stepped back and glanced around. She saw the hoe and reached out to wrap her hands around the handle. She slid the handgun into the bag over her shoulder and looked inside the window again. The monster inside was still looking out a side window at the surviving horses. She could do this. One quick swing of the hoe and the monster would no long be a problem. She reached for the door, and the black horse reared up and screamed I protest. Della turned. “Okay…I know, but I have to do this.”
She turned to reach for the door again, and a bloodied body slammed against the glass. Della fell back and stumbled to the ground. Still sitting on her butt, she watched as the infected man, in soiled khakis and a bloodied polo shirt, snarled and clawed from behind the glass.
“Now you’ve done it,” Della scolded the black horse.
Della leaned against the hoe and watched the monster claw and scream in frustration, too stupid to know as long as the door was closed it couldn’t get to prey. That was it…release the latch and the infected would push open the door and fall out. Right?
Della stepped out of sight while the black seemed to sense there was a plan. The horse stomped the packed ground and whinnied as she backed up several yards. The rest happened so quickly, Della had little time to even think about the danger. With her back pressed against the wall, Della reached over and depressed the latch, the infected hit the door, and it swung open. Not expecting the freedom to reach his prey, the infected fell from the building.
Della raised the hoe and slammed it down at the monster’s head from behind.
The blade struck the skull and slid down the side of his head landing on the man’s shoulder with a snap of a collarbone. Della jerked the hoe up again then slammed it down on his head with all her might. The man fell, and she stumbled to her knees. Before she could get to her feet, the mare slammed her hooves into the mangled head. Terrified, Della quickly got to her feet and backed toward the building while the black continued her attack. When the infected man remained still, the mare nickered and strolled up to Della for a nuzzled and pat on the nose. Della pressed her face against the horse’s head and took a deep breath. “I’m not sure if this relationship is going to work out long-term, but for now, we’re a team. Okay?”
The mare whinnied.
Della turned and walked toward the office. She looked through the gore-smeared door and into the room beyond. It seemed empty. She grabbed the hoe just in case, then opened the door, and stepped inside.
Della walked around the office, opened the cabinets and found nothing useful. At the side of the room were two doors. A quick peek verified one was a bathroom and the second room with white cabinets, sink, and table. A medical bag sat on the table. She opened the bag, and after a quick perusal, she continued her search.
At one side of the room was a cabinet with a lock on the door. Della pulle
d a knife from her bag. She jammed it in between the doors and popped the door open.
Inside was a variety of medical supplies including bottles of antibiotics, syringes, vials and a variety of medical dressings. Della swept supplies into the bag. When it was full, she filled her shoulder bag with bandages, tape, and sponges. After a final glance around, she headed back out the door. When she got back in the office, she emptied the trash bag and stepped inside the bathroom to retrieve all the toilet paper.
She’d made a haul, antibiotics for Steve and toilet paper for the outhouse. All she had to do was get to the ATV and get back to the cabin.
Chapter 38
Pied Piper
Matt slipped back into the shadows. He lowered the body of the guard he had just killed to the ground with barely a sound. He retrieved the weapons and set them aside before he pulled the body behind a mound of rocks. He watched the pickup pull to the far side of the camp and park. He hoped Tate got Rodney secured and silenced as planned. If he didn’t fight back, Rodney might survive, but what then? What do I do with a man who took part in abducting and abusing women? Matt mentally shrugged, that decision would have to wait.
There were six men in camp according to Rodney. It sounded right with what Matt had seen. One guard down, five to go. Matt jogged into the shadows around the back of the camp watching the two men standing at the edge of the field.
“I plan on getting to know that little red head tonight.” A big man with a thick black beard laughed.
A shorter guy retorted, “She’s a feisty bitch for sure. Think you can handle her?”
“Damned straight, Arty.” The beard answered.
Arty smirked. “I gotta drop a load, so wait ‘til I come back before you go courtin’, Josh. That bitch will take off your head if you try something without some backup.”
Matt watched the third guard near the truck where the women were held. He would be next to die.
The man walked from the front of the vehicle to the back. He glanced around the camp while he lit a cigarette. With the tip of the cigarette glowing red, he paced to the front of the truck again. He settled on the bumper smoking and stared out into the shadows.
Matt slipped to the side of the truck with the eyes of the women following him. He held his finger to his lips, crouched in the shadows of the truck, and waited.
The guard rose and dropped the cigarette butt on the ground, then smashed it into the dirt with the toe of his boot. He looked up at the women and slapped the screen. “What the fuck are you looking at, bitches?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing, now.” the redhead snapped with a wicked grin.
The guard stepped to the back of the metal cage. Matt rose from the shadows and slit the guard’s throat. After a quick jab of the blade into his temple, he released the body and nudged it under the truck.
The redhead rushed to the screen and whispered, “Help us! Get us out of here.”
“Who has the key?” Matt slipped the guard’s handgun and knife through the bars into the cage. “Be damned careful who you shoot at with this. A friend of mine is out there. If you kill her or me, I’ll be pissed.”
“The big asshole with the beard has the key,” The redhead answered, as she accepted the gun and knife. She passed the gun to another woman.
“Him and his friend will be coming to see you in a few minutes. See if you can get him to open the cage, then kill them. I need to finish off the rest.”
“We can do it,” the redhead answered. “Besides, I want to be the one to kill him, anyway.”
“Who’s the boss and where is he?” Matt asked.
“He’s in the tent. His name is Gregory Grant. He’s always got a guy named Stubby with him,” another woman answered. “There’s only six left in camp until the truck comes back with the rest.”
“Don’t worry about them. What about the old couple?” Matt asked.
“He’s a doctor. They’re being used to cook and take care of us. They won’t fight back because their grandkids are in here with us. Those assholes killed their son,” the redhead answered.
“That means there’s four left. I’m going after the pair in the tent. If the other two come after you, kill them if you can. Otherwise, stall.”
The redhead smiled. “We can take care of them.”
The woman with the black eye stepped closer. “Give me a chance, and I’ll take care of Josh by myself.” She hid the gun in the folds of her skirt.
Matt gave a quick nod and disappeared into the shadows again. Suddenly, Matt’s attention was drawn away by the sound of angry voices. It came from Rodney’s truck. A door slammed. Rodney cursed. Matt heard running steps, a muted thwack, then silence. Tate disappeared into the shadows of the treeline. Matt ducked around the front of a pickup and waited. When she reappeared, Matt stepped out of the shadows next to her.
“Rodney?” Matt whispered.
“He didn’t want to play nice,” Tate whispered. “How many left?”
“I’m going after two in the tent. The women plan to take care of the fat guy. Another guy walked off that way,” Matt answered back as he pointed toward the back of the camp. “He’s taking a shit so be careful where you step.”
“I’ll find him.” Tate shrugged.
Tate stepped into the brush heading in the direction Matt had indicated. She stopped and listened. Night sounds filled the evening. She moved slowly through the shadows created by the branches of the spreading oak limbs overhead. She studied the dark looking for the man.
Matt slipped away from the truck, all the while watching the tent for the two survivalists described by the women. He took a quick survey of the camp one last time then moved closer to the fabric walls. He stopped to listen when he heard voices.
A gravelly male voice ordered, “Take care of Doc and the old women. Make sure they’re chained to the car again. I don’t want them wandering around getting ideas.”
“They won’t. The kids are still locked in the cage,” a second male voice answered.
“I don’t care. I want ‘em secured,” the gruff voice ordered. “Have the rest of the men come back?”
“No. Not yet. One of the guys heard Rodney say they picked up the soldier’s rig and were getting diesel from a tank behind that shed where they found ‘em.”
“Good. We’ll need it to make it to the camp tomorrow afternoon. We’ll refuel then head out first thing in the morning. With those two girls, there’ll be plenty of women to go around.” He laughed.
“Yes, sir,” a second voice answered. “If they’re following orders at the campgrounds, we’re set for the duration.”
“Duration, hell!” Grant answered. “Stubby, you don’t get it. It’s Armageddon. I’ve led the faithful into the Promised Land. We have thousands of acres fenced off and secured by the government, from the same fucks, that brought this plague on the good people of Texas. It’s our duty to bring the weak and defenseless into the fold.”
“Yes, sir,” Stubby answered.
Matt pealed back the flap of the tent and stepped inside the tent pointing an automatic at the two men sitting on camp chairs at a table and a bottle between them. “Keep your hands on the table, assholes.”
He turned the barrel of the automatic weapon to point at Stubby. “You keep yourself nice and frosty.”
Grant slammed his fist on the camp table. “Who in the fuck are you?”
Matt laughed. “The guy that’s gonna shoot you if you make another move like that.” He threw a length of paracord at Stubby. “Tie up your boss.”
Stubby looked confused for a moment, then slowly rose with the cord in his hand.
Tate found the man she had followed, still grunting with his bare back side glaring bright white in the light of the moon. Tate muffled a giggle as he farted and sighed. He belched as he got to his feet and pulled his pants up to his waist.
“Sounds to me like you have a digestive problem, man. That smell can’t be normal.” Tate laughed softly as she waved the gun in her hand. “
Don’t do anything stupid.”
The man jumped and stepped in the muddy pile at his feet. “Fuck!” He slid his foot across scrub grass trying to clean his boot. “Who in the hell are you?”
Tate answered, “Not a fan for sure.”
He reached for his handgun and Tate squeezed the trigger on her gun.
The big man with the thick black beard waited at the truck for his companion for ten minutes before he pulled the key on the string from his neck, and walked to the cage. “Time for a little fun, Red.”
The women in the cage backed away from the door, all but the two Matt had spoken with. They moved toward the door where Black Beard was inserting the key into the lock.
He glared at the women. When they didn’t move, he pointed his gun at both women. “Back off bitches!”
The black-haired woman hesitated. When Black Beard pointed his raised his gun at a little girl in the group, the women moved away from the door. Red slipped the knife from her left hand to her right behind her back. She looked at her friend. “I got this.”
“That’s right, bitch. Red and I are going to do a little bump and grind,” Black Beard answered, as he grabbed himself. He stuck the key into the padlock and opened the door, then stepped to the side. He motioned with the tip of his handgun for her to climb out of the truck.
Red stepped to the door, and Back Beard grabbed her arm and pulled her from the back of the vehicle. She landed hard and stumbled, but before she could get to her feet, Black Beard knocked her to her knees. Red sat crumpled in the dirt looking helpless, while the big man snapped the lock hasp closed again.
Suddenly there was a shot fired somewhere in the camp. Black Beard relaxed his hold on Red’s arm and let the barrel of his gun lower. Red slipped from his hand and swung the blade in a wide arc into Black Beard’s protruding gut. He stumbled back staring down at the blood spilling from his middle. Red turned again and swiped the blade across his throat. Black Beard tried to raise his gun, but Red jerked it from his hand as he fell to the ground. She pulled the keys from his neck and threw them into the waiting hands reaching through the bars.
