by Wimer, Kevin
“Yeah,” Cubbie said as he started to say something more and paused. He looked at Lailah and took a breath and held it for a second before letting it out as he spoke again, “Yeah. I think you are right. I shouldn’t hold back on telling her how much I love her . . . I should ask her to marry me today.”
Chris looked at the young man who seemed to be lost in thought. He said nothing as he allowed Cubbie a moment to gather himself and his thoughts. Chris’s body ached. It wasn’t just his ankle that hurt like hell—he hurt from head to toe. He felt as if he had gone ten rounds with a prize fighter. The winner of that fight was yet to be determined. He placed a hand to his pocket and felt the note that Paul Yassa had written. He wanted to ask Cubbie about Brandy, but the young man’s attention was elsewhere. It was with Lailah. Chris looked at Lailah. He watched as her hair flowed in the gentle breath that blew across the top of the hill. He watched as she picked up shell casings—waving playfully at Cubbie as she did so. Chris looked at the two of them as hope began to fill him—hope that one day things would return to normal. He knew deep down nothing would ever be normal again. Chris turned his attention from the two love birds as he looked at the bottom of the hill. He looked at the bodies of the dead walkers that lay scattered across the ground. He looked at them and how their bodies were mangled and twisted—frozen in death. He felt a heaviness in the center of his chest. This was the new normal and for how long was anyone’s guess.
Cubbie turned his attention from Lailah. He cleared his throat as he spoke.
“You like baseball?” removing the hat from his head, “I’m a Chicago Cub’s fan . . . Hence my nickname.”
“Yeah . . . I like—”
Chris started to tell Cubbie that he was indeed a fan of baseball but the sound of vehicle approaching stopped him. He looked towards the area of where the group of six had disappeared. He looked at the road that they would be coming down. Nothing. The road leading towards Broadway was clear. His heart began to race as he turned and looked to where Tex and the other were at the bottom of the hill. The group of men were still looking over the Jeep—trying to salvage whatever they could. He narrowed his eyes and then opened them wide as a vehicle slowly came into view. Chris watched as Tex quickly moved behind cover and began directing everyone with him to take up firing positions behind the Jeep. Chris started to say something to Cubbie but the young man was already on his feet and running towards Lailah. Tex was at the bottom of the hill shouting for everyone to take cover. The group that had been gathering shell casings quickly moved into position. The group was now lying flat on their stomachs—barely at the edge of the hill. He watched as the group brought their rifles up and into position—covering Tex and the men below them.
Chris had yet to move. He looked at the SUV heading towards them. His heart ticked a beat faster and his mouth was bone dry. Deacon’s mean had found them. It was Hawkeye and his group of hunters. Chris looked away from the road and began looking at the tree line. He was sure Hawkeye had more men with him—especially since Chris had killed both Tiny and Pete. He scanned the tall grass that consumed the open ground at the bottom of the hill. He could see nothing or no one. His flesh chilled at the thought of Hawkeye finding him and what was to come. Chris looked at the group and then at Tex and the men with him. It was his fault that Hawkeye was here. It would be his fault if anyone should die. The anger of that burned through him. He wouldn’t let Hawkeye take anyone but him. He wouldn’t let Deacon and his henchman harm the group of survivors that had saved him from the pack of walkers. His mind began working out a plan—a plan that would allow the group to escape. You could always surrender. The voice inside his head echoed. It was true. Chris could end all this right here and now. He could give his own life for those that had just saved it.
CHAPTER 8
Tex looked at the SUV that had stopped twenty or so feet away. He counted four men inside. His mind began to race with thoughts. He wondered if they were alone. He wondered if more of them were hanging back and waiting to be called into action. Tex turned and looked at the men with him. He mouthed the words and held up four fingers. He told the men to be ready to fire on his command. Tex wasn’t taking any chances. He looked towards the top of the hill and could see no one within his group. The only person Tex could see was Chris. Tex knew that the members of his group were just out of sight—covering him and the men with him. He looked at Chris who had yet to move. The man sat in the same spot of where he had fallen earlier. It was the look on Chris’s face that told him all that he needed to know. He could see the fear that gripped him. Chris knew these men. Tex knew that these men were what he and the others had feared running into while out scavenging. The men inside the SUV were savages. Tex could only hope that his group would rely on what little training he had been able to give them. He hoped that their training would get them out of the situation that they now found themselves in. He wanted to curse aloud. He wished he had been able to train them more.
Tex turned his attention back to the SUV in front him as the passenger door opened and a man who looked to be Native American got out. The two men made eye contact. Tex noticed the look in the man’s eyes. It was a look of cockiness. The man was sure of himself. He had no fear. Tex trigger finger began to itch as he looked at the other men inside the SUV. He looked at them and then at the road behind them. His gut was telling him that these men were not alone. The feeling of being watched was overwhelming. He slowly turned his head towards the field that he and his men had just walked through. He looked at the tree line and wondered how many bad guys were just inside of it. Tex was angry with himself. He should have sent out a scouting party to check out the woods and the road ahead of them. Chris had thrown him off his game. He had done the one thing he had trained himself not to do. He had let his guard down. Tex turned back to the men in front him. His gut was telling him that they were a part of a larger group. His gut was also telling him that they were in a world of shit—a shit storm that was going to end in one hell of a gunfight. His finger danced in and out of the trigger guard as his mind process the situation that he now found himself. His mind told him to calm down and to only strike if provoked. Tex took a breath and slowly let it out—calming his nerves. It had been quite some time since he had killed a man—a man who wasn’t a walker. It had been even longer since he had been in a gunfight.
The tension in the air was thick—so thick it could have been cut with a knife. Tex looked at the men in front of him. He could see it in their eyes, they were itching for a fight. It wasn’t just a gut feeling. Tex was good at reading people. He looked at the four men before him as a thought entered his mind. Did you miss read Chris? Is he a part of them? Tex was sure Chris was one of the few good guys left in this world. It wasn’t just a gut feeling. He looked at the men and knew they were different. He knew these men were scum—savages that would kill anyone in order to survive. The thoughts that ran through Tex mind quickly vanished as the man in front of him leaned into the SUV and pulled out an AR-15. He felt his muscles going taut as he wrapped his trigger finger around the trigger of his rifle. The man smiled as he looked at Tex and then ducked his head through the sling of his rifle—allowing it to hang in front of him. Kill him. Kill them all. The voice inside Tex head commanded. He could feel himself starting to follow that command when the man held up his hands and began walking forward.
“That’s far enough,” Tex said.
The man smiled like the Devil as he defiantly took two more steps and then stopped. He now stood in front of the SUV—nearly blocking out the view of the men inside of it. Tex gripped his rifle in hand—readying himself for any sudden movement. He could see out of the corner of his eyes that the men with him were following his lead. The men were ready. He had no doubt that they would kill to not only protect him but to protect those within the group and everyone back at Graceland. Tex hoped it would not come to that but knew not to have hope—not in this new world were rule of law no longer existed. The world that they were living in n
ow had its own set of laws and those laws were about surviving. It would have at one time been a shameful act but killing a man in cold blood was now a part of surviving. Tex didn’t much like having to kill but he wasn’t against it either. He looked at the man in front of him and then at the men inside the SUV. He was sure these men had preyed upon innocent survivors. He was sure these men had committed unspeakable acts against those that were far weaker. Tex had killed men for far less reasons than the ones he had right now. He had done it for his country and for those that were unwilling to do it for themselves. It was the way of war.
“I see that you and your men have found what is left of our Jeep,” the man said, nodding towards the wreckage that Tex and his men had taken cover behind, “It is a shame that Chris wrecked it . . . A shame that he stole it from the two men that he killed,” the man narrowed his eyes as he looked at Tex, briefly pausing before he spoke again, “It’s an even bigger shame that he has brought such horrible things to you and your group of survivors.”
Tex looked at the man. He wasn’t just calm. He was cool and collective. The man wasn’t acting erratic like most men would have if in the same situation. It was almost as if the man had nothing to lose. Tex knew that this made the man before him that much more dangerous. He noticed how his voice was edged in a coldness. The same kind of coldness that a calculated killer would have. Tex began to wonder if his gut had been right about Chris. Don’t let this bastard get inside your head. He thought while resisting the urge to turn and have a look at Chris. He looked at the man and began playing out the scenario of what was about to happen. The standoff between him and the man before him could only last for so long before one of them decided to pull the trigger. Tex wasn’t going to allow the man standing in from of him to be the one to pull the trigger first. He wasn’t going to allow these men to live. He would strike first and with that first strike he would kill all four of them. Tex knew that these men were a part of larger group—a group that would want payback. He was caught between a rock and a hard place and knew what needed to be done. Tex vowed to protect not only Graceland but the people of Graceland and these men before him threatened that vow. Graceland was a place of refuge and a place of new beginnings. Tex would die to protect that and the ones he loved.
Tex fought the urge to pull the trigger as he looked at the man who was damn near expressionless. It was an urge that consumed him. He looked at the men inside the SUV and knew it would be like shooting fish in a barrel. It was a cold blooded and calculated thought and one that Tex wasn’t too proud of having. He knew when the time came, he would exploit that thought—killing the man standing in front of him first and then the men inside the SUV. He would do it swiftly and without them being able to fire a shot—at least he hoped that it would go down that way. Tex had done his best to keep the group safe. It had been six months since the outbreak and two months since they had lost anyone. The last person they had lost had been Carl Yassa. He had gone missing while out looking for food and various other supplies. Tex had warned him about the dangers of going out alone. Carl was a stubborn man—far too stubborn for his own good. He was not only stubborn but a good man, one of the best Tex had ever known. It had been two months since anyone had seen him alive and the group presumed him to be dead. The group knew that no one could survivor out here in the world controlled by the dead and the ruthless people that would kill you for something to eat. Brandy was the only one amongst them that had hope—hope that one day her father would return. Tex looked at the man in front of him. Did you kill Carl? He then looked at the three men inside the SUV as the voice inside his head echoed with rage. He placed his finger on the trigger of his rifle and took the slack out of it—daring the man to make a move.
“My name is Hawkeye,” the man said as he looked at Tex and then towards the top of the hill. He could just barely make out the barrels of seven rifles that were pointed at him and his men. He was sure there were more, “So, now that you know my name . . . Wouldn’t you agree that it is only fair that I know yours?”
Tex looked at the man who called himself Hawkeye. He could tell the man was toying with him—playing a deadly game of cat mouse. He was stalling. Tex narrowed his eyes as he stood there. He wanted to look towards the woods but kept his eyes locked forward. The man a look in his eyes that told Tex that he thought he was above death—that somehow, he could cheat it. Death was just one of many things in life that no one could cheat. Death was always watching and waiting—waiting to lash out and take you into its grasps while pulling you into a pit of darkness. It was a nothingness that some might welcome—a relief from this hellish world that they were now living in. The rage inside Tex began to boil hotter. He didn’t like being toyed with. He didn’t like playing games that involved life and death. The voice inside his head grew louder. It screamed for him to pull the trigger. It screamed for him to snuff out the life of the man in front of him and then the three men inside the SUV. It would be as easy as taking a breath for Tex. Killing a man had become second nature to him. He had had men in the crosshairs of his sights, and he had pulled the trigger—killing them without remorse. He envisioned each pull of the trigger while looking at the man in front him. The voice inside his head urged him to do it and to do it quickly before they did. His trigger finger twitched to do what the voice inside his head commanded him to do.
Tex could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He looked past the man and at the road behind him. He could see nothing but open country. His gut was telling him that these men were not alone. It was what he couldn’t see that scared him shitless and enraged him even more. Tex knew it was a warning that he should heed—a warning that all Hell was about to break loose. He took a breath and slowly let it out as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a lollypop—studying the man and his actions as he unwrapped it and placed it into his mouth.
“Tex . . . My name is Tex.”
The man raised a brow and smiled. It was a bone chilling smile that was both lifeless and cold. Tex knew that he was looking into the eyes of a stone-cold killer—a man who loved having someone else’s blood on his hands.
“Tex?” Hawkeye said with a smirk as he looked at the man and the way he was dressed, “I guess your name would explain the cowboy hat and six shooters on your hips,” nodding towards the guns that Tex had holstered on each hip, “You know Tex . . .” pausing briefly, “May I call you that?”
Tex nodded his head.
“I’ve been called worse.”
Hawkeye chuckled a laugh as he began to speak.
“Tex, our group, just like yours, thought that Chris was a good man,” raising a brow as he spoke and began to take a step forward. Tex brought his rifle up and stopped him dead in his tracks. The look in the man’s eyes told Hawkeye that he would hesitate to pull the trigger and blow him away, “Chris had been a cop before the world went to Hell. He seemed honorable. Someone that we could trust . . . Until we couldn’t. We—”
Tex knew this man was feeding him a line of shit. It was time to put an end to this game and get on with whatever was going to happen next. Daylight was burning.
“Hoss, cut the shit,” cutting Hawkeye off, “It’s time that you tell me what it is that you want . . . I have had enough bullshit to last me three lifetimes. I don’t need you adding more to it,” narrowing his eyes as he spoke—his finger gliding across the trigger of his rifle, “Now state your business and let’s get on with it.”
Hawkeye didn’t like the man’s rudeness. He could feel the raging urge to kill him and those within his group burning hotter than the fiery flames that burned at the Gates of Hell. Deacon had given him strict orders—kill no one unless given no other choice. Hawkeye had been ordered to bring Chris back alive. He wanted to make an example out of Chris—no one goes against him and lives to tell the tale.
“Give us Chris and we will let you and your group live.”
Hawkeye had just told Tex all he needed to know. His gut feeling had been right. These fou
r men were not alone. Tex wondered how many men were hidden within the woods. How many men now held him and his group at gunpoint. His eyes wondered from the man in front of him to the man in the driver’s seat. He was slowly reaching for something. Tex gripped his rifle as he spoke through gritted teeth.
“Tell your man if he keeps reaching to for that gun, I’m going to unload a full magazine into the vehicle and then one into you.”
Hawkeye smiled. He looked at Tex and then slowly turned his head and looked at the men inside the SUV. He told them to stand down. The three men nodded. Tex watched as the man who had been reaching for a gun leaned back into the driver’s seat and seemed to relax. He seemed a bit to relaxed. The hair on the back of Tex neck stood on end. The voice inside his head screamed. The shit was about to hit the fan.
“My men and I will not kill you or anyone in your group . . . but for that to happen you are going to have hand over Chris. He killed two of our men in cold blood. He stole from us . . . Chris has done shit that would make your skin crawl.”
Tex looked at Hawkeye with his eyes narrowed. He wasn’t going to comply. He couldn’t hand Chris over and live with himself for doing so. His gut told him that Chris wasn’t like these four men. He wasn’t a stone-cold killer. Chris may have killed two of their men, but he was betting that the killing was justifiable. The men in front of him were the kind of men that would kill without remorse just so they could survivor this new world. It was this new world that brought out the worst in humanity. Tex had a gnawing feeling in his gut that Chris was just a man who had gotten himself into a bad situation. He could feel the tension in the air as it thickened. It was a feeling that reminded him of moments before an electrical storm—that static electrical charge that hung in the air. Tex slowly began taking the slack out of the trigger of his rifle when the sound of vehicles approaching behind him caused him to stop. It was the group he had sent to get the trucks. The urge to look over his shoulder was overwhelming. The look in Hawkeye’s eyes stopped that urge. Tex held his hand up and balled it into a fist. The trucks behind him screeched to a halt.
