Road to Riches: Deadline: Book 1 (Zombie Road)

by Wesley R. Norris

  I parked the ‘Dillo in front of the sheriff’s office. Sheriff Collins wasn’t a big fan of mine due to some of the shenanigans that went on in the local bar, but I liked to think we had a mutual respect for each other. She couldn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know about the mysterious Carter, had never even heard of him, but she did confirm what I suspected about Griffin. He was still laid up recovering, being nursed back to health by some very grateful college aged girls. Poor bastard.

  She didn’t know anything about the whereabouts of Charlie Safari or Penny and didn’t know anything about someone looking to hire a retriever for a trip east. I thanked her for the awful cup of coffee she’d given me. She advised me to do my best to stay out of her jail. Information wise, she’d been all but useless, but it was worth a try even if it was a dead end. Since the stop at the sheriff’s office was a bust, I decided to head over and see the best source of information in Lakota. If it was worth knowing, this crowd would have the inside scoop.

  “Catcher!” I cringed when I heard the sound of my name. Her voice was the last one I wanted to hear right now and the one I needed to hear the most.

  “Catcher!” I slowed just a little. I knew I had to have a serious conversation with her, but I was still playing it out in my mind.

  “Catcher Norman Rye, I know you hear me! Stop right there and don’t you move!”

  Yeah, Catcher N. Rye. That’s me. Short version of the long story, my dad, the English professor went to college on a full ride baseball scholarship where he met my mom. You guessed it; he was the catcher. He played in the minor leagues until a bad tumble from his Harley Davidson ended his baseball career. My mother, the other English professor, colluded with him to name me after their favorite book. Catcher In The Rye, the book none of us wanted to read in school, but we all had to anyway. I’m sure back when they branded me with the awful moniker that has caused me endless torment from kindergarten until now, they thought they were being clever.

  Whenever I’d bitched at Mom about their decision to name me, she’d just smiled and told me to be thankful that my father hadn’t played short stop or decided to name me after my place of conception. Yeah, Catcher Norman was pretty horrendous, but it beat the hell out of being named Volkswagen Beetle.

  I spun on my heels to face the flip flop wearing fury bearing down on me. Five foot nothing, auburn haired, tattooed and pissed off. I’m a foot taller than her at six one, but she wasn’t intimidated by the height difference. She was adorable in a rabid honey badger sort of way. I smiled down at her. She wasn’t smiling back.

  “Caitlin, I was just coming to see you.” I said. Not entirely the truth, but close enough. I was going to see her, just not right then. Business first.

  She ignored me and bent over to lavish Bo with attention. He ate it up. Damned dog loved her more than he did me. After promising him a treat, she stood up and slapped the taste right out of my mouth, knocking my shades askew on my face. Unfortunately, being slapped by a beautiful woman wasn’t an unfamiliar sensation to me. I fixed my glasses, rubbed my stinging jaw and glanced over at Bo, who was a ball of nervous energy, wagging his stubby tail and wearing a look of pure bliss on his face. Normally, Bo would shred anyone who touched me. He wasn’t a big dog, maybe sixty pounds with a full stomach, but he was fierce and lightning quick. But no, my partner and best friend just sat there, watching Caitlin with love in his eyes and waiting for his treat. Traitorous bastard.

  “Ow, what was that for?” I flinched, expecting another smack when she wrapped her arms around me and kissed me hard on the lips.

  “You needed it. You rolled out of here weeks ago like the devil was on your tail without even a goodbye. I was worried about you. I’m always afraid some day you won’t come back.” She blinked back a tear as she squeezed me tight.

  She let go of me and took a step back. “Liar, my shop is in the other direction.”

  I pulled her to me again, she only resisted a little, more out of hurt feelings than anything. She felt good in my arms, and I wrapped her up tight. I whispered an apology. She deserved better, and I would make it up to her, somehow.

  “Is that your gun digging into my hip or are you just really happy to see me?” I teased.

  She slapped my shoulder playfully and stepped back, lifted the edge of her shirt to show me the Smith & Wesson model 686 .357 Magnum she wore in a cross-draw holster. I’d given it to her the last time I was in town, and she’d been overjoyed. It was identical to the rig Nancy carried and she’d spent time with Caitlin teaching her how to use it.

  “I never let it out of my reach, even when I shower. Want me to show you later?” She proclaimed and kissed me again, all traces of anger gone from her emerald eyes and replaced by a flash of mischievousness.

  I saw all sorts of interesting possibilities in that offer and decided that yes, I was extremely interested in her showing me. The little fireball in front of me changed her moods more than I changed my socks. She was always like that, flying off the handle one minute and smothering me in affection the next. I liked Caitlin, no, that’s not true. I was pretty sure I loved her. Part of me felt my feelings for her were a betrayal to Bex’s memory, but Bex was gone, and I was still alive. I’d always miss her, always mourn her, but I couldn’t wallow in grief anymore. Love was a feeling I didn’t think I’d ever feel again, and it was never going to be simple for us. She was a complicated woman in a complicated world and well, me, I was just me, prone to wander and see what was over that next hilltop.

  I’d met Caitlin a few months ago when I was delivering a family Bible from the armpit of Arizona that traced its owner’s lineage all the way back to Plymouth Rock. One thing led to another and before I knew it, we were drowning our mutual sorrows down at the Old Goat. We both had our ghosts to contend with. Like me, she was alone in the world after having lost her husband and family during the initial outbreak. Too many drinks and sad stories later, I woke up with a gorgeous girlfriend and an ugly hangover. It was the last thing I was looking for, my life wasn’t one suited to domestic bliss, but she hung in there and I kept coming back to her whenever I had the chance. She never judged, never questioned my vocation, she just made me promise to come back safe.

  I’d taken her to the cabin at Carrizozo once, while I was healing up from the fracas with Pascal. She’d picked up the picture of me and Bex and stared at it. I couldn’t read her expression, but I saw the wetness in the corner of her eyes. I mistook it as jealousy. She wiped the tears away and I figured that we were going to have our first argument about me keeping the picture out in the open like that. After a long moment of uncomfortable silence, she wiped the dust from the frame and returned it to its place on the mantle. She hugged me fiercely and whispered how sorry she was for my loss. She reassured me that Bex wouldn’t want me to forget her, but she’d want me to find happiness. She wore her own loss on her face without shame for me to see. I think that was the moment I realized how special Caitlin was. Competing with a memory was impossible, so she didn’t try. She accepted what had been but was willing to fight for what could be.

  “I could use a shower myself. I have some hard to reach spots that need a good washing.” I said as I kissed her forehead and breathed in the sweet scent of her shampoo.

  “You look tired, and you smell like smoke, whiskey and dog. You don’t take care of yourself like you should.” She said.

  “I drove straight in from Tombstone, I’m on a tight schedule here, but I’ll take you up on your offer and catch a couple of hours sleep later.” I replied.

  She bit my lip and pinched my nipple playfully. She was the kind of girl who made you want to run and stay all at the same time and she deserved more than some broke gunslinger with a bad case of wanderlust. I enjoyed my time in the settlements, but I couldn’t ever live there. Too many rules for a guy like me. I needed to tell her about the danger she was in, but I didn’t want to cause her to worry, I was working on a plan to keep her safe. I had things I needed to be doing, but damned
if she didn’t make a pleasant armful. Those things could wait a few more minutes, I decided to enjoy the moment with her.

  Caitlin owned a bakery on the main thoroughfare a block west of the sheriff’s office. She makes some of the best damned pies I’ve ever eaten, and she knew my weakness for pecan pie. It was better than my dear sweet Grangran’s, although I’m sure her ghost would haunt me and beat me with her rolling pin if I ever said that out loud. Grangran was a prideful woman, quick with a sharp tongue and even quicker to switch the hide off of a young boy who tested her limits. I always complimented Caitlin on her culinary skills but stopped just short of invoking the wrath of the vengeful spirit of my Grangran. I didn’t believe in ghosts, but I didn’t believe in zombies either and we all saw how that turned out.

  “I assume you are here on business and not just for a booty call.” She said with a flash of temper and desire behind her emerald eyes.

  “A little of both, if time allows. Like I said, I met a client in Tombstone who has a time sensitive job for me that I have to scope out and see if it’s doable, and I need to touch base with a few people here.” I fudged the truth. I had no choice but to go. She was in danger and if I failed, it could blow back on her. I couldn’t let that happen.

  “See me when you are done. I have some pecans I’ve been saving just for you.” She appealed to my stomach, the second fastest way to my heart.

  “I will darling, I’ve gotta see some people first, but I’ll be back in a few hours. I’ll give you the details that I can share tonight, but right now, I need to see Gage and his crew and see if they know anything useful, plus I need some supplies and I’m short on funds.”

  I kissed her again, it became heated and I was tempted to put pleasure before business. She felt good in my arms, and I’d missed her, but we needed to get off the street. For all I knew someone in an empty building was watching us through binoculars at that very moment.

  Knock that shit off, I thought. I had to get my head in the game, or I was no good to either of us. I shifted my focus back to the gorgeous woman I was holding. My grumbling stomach and Little Catcher were competing for my attention. There’s always time for pie and a roll in the hay.

  “You mean you need that bunch of juvenile delinquents to steal a bunch of stuff so you won’t have to pay for it. I don’t know who’s the worst influence on who. You or that band of outlaw kids.”

  “Whom.” I said.

  “What?” She asked.

  “You meant whom, who’s the worst influence on whom.”

  “Don’t get all schoolteacher on me, you dirty desert rat.” Her eyes flashed with Irish temper, but her lips smiled.

  I couldn’t help but laugh at her feistiness. Slippery Jim, Gage, Lizzie and their friends were infamous for their misadventures, but they knew every secret in town and they could get their hands on just about anything and I needed their help.

  “Hey, I might need you to watch Bo for a few days. I don’t think he’s a good fit for this job and I figure you can keep each other company until I get back.” I said.

  “I’d feel better knowing he was watching your back, but he’s always welcome.” She looked worried. I usually took Bo everywhere. He was worth his weight in gold when things went sideways, and they almost always went sideways out in the badlands. I hated leaving him behind, but I was gonna be moving fast.

  “Bo, guard.” I told my furry companion. They’d be good company for each other, and I’d feel better knowing he had a home if I didn’t make it back.

  “Don’t make me drag you out of the Old Goat at last call by your ear like some nagging housewife.” She admonished. “Let’s go Bo, you’re going with Mama.

  “How did you know I was going to Nay Nay’s?” I asked.

  She just shot me a smile filled with lusty promises, mixed with a warning not to stand her up and walked away. I paused to appreciate the motion of her swaying hips until she rounded the corner and disappeared. Bo was right on her heels. He would protect her even if I couldn’t.

  I looked at my watch again, my time to get the things I needed steadily slipped away. I had enough time to see the kids before I met McCullough at Nay Nay’s, so I ducked off into an alley and followed it back to where it intersected with another alley. I took a left turn and stopped at the third door on my right. I knocked sharply and heard scuffling from the other side. I knocked again, a little harder this time and rapped out shave and a haircut with my knuckles. A skinny girl in pink overalls, flip flops and pigtails opened the door and launched herself into my arms.

  “Catcher!” She shouted. She hugged me tightly around the neck; her high pitched voice in my ear caused me to wince as she announced the coast was clear to her friends.

  “Hi, Lizzie.” I returned the hug from the feisty critter and set her back down.

  She grabbed me by the hand and dragged me inside. Kids scrambled from behind chairs and out of closets to greet me. They called themselves the Rat Pack. Cobb referred to them as his Bullet Brigade. I just called them friends.

  They instantly relaxed when they realized it was just me and not someone there to bust them for truancy. Mikey and Hambone went back to their PlayStation game, while Lizzie dug through an ice chest hunting me a cold Dr. Pepper.

  “You working?” Gage asked, while he shoved pizza boxes and juice containers under the couch in an effort to clear me a place to sit.

  I hung my hat on a nail sticking out of the wall. “Kid, haven’t I told you to never accuse me of working?”

  Lizzie snorted and handed me the cold drink. I popped the tab, took a long swallow and belched as loud as I could. The kids burst out in a round of laughter and applause.

  “Hey, Catch, when you gonna let me roll that war wagon of yours?” Slippery Jim asked me.

  “Son,” I said. “That’s like me asking you when you’re gonna let me go on a date with your girlfriend.”

  Timbo and Catfish high fived each other. “Burn!” they said in unison to Jim.

  I looked around their hideout. They’d claimed an unused storage room and converted it into a smugglers den. Lakota’s walls were made out of shipping containers and the rail tracks that went through the town were covered in rail cars full of who knows what. Apparently, these guys had spent quite a bit of time pilfering goods when they weren’t waging war on the undead.

  There wasn’t an inch of wall space that wasn’t covered in movie posters, outdated calendars with bikini clad models, road signs, license plates, hubcaps and anything else the little scavengers could come up with. They even had a fire hydrant standing in one corner. Boxes of toys, comic books, candy and soft drinks were stacked in every available space. At least two dozen partially completed Lego sets covered the floor along with boxes of MRE’s, glow sticks and flash bang grenades. I could use a few of those, I thought.

  There must have been two dozen different gaming consoles hooked up to sixty-inch flat screens. The wobbly kitchen table they had dragged in from somewhere was covered in video game boxes and DVD’s.

  “I like what you’ve done with the place.” I said as I admired their handiwork.

  Gage shrugged, “It’s a work in progress.”

  “Where is Booger?” I asked. I hadn’t seen the kid who was named for his habit of constant nose picking.

  “Bathroom, he has a nervous stomach and when you bout banged the door down, he had to go poop.” Lizzie said.

  “I did not! I was checking the back exit in case we had to bug out.” Booger stepped in the room and gave me a little wave, then stuck his finger back up his nose.

  “Booger, knock that shit off.” I told him. He ignored me and continued his quest.

  I finished my Dr. Pepper, belched again and cocked my arm to shoot for the trashcan on the far side of the room.

  Gage hollered out. “Bet!”

  I paused. “What we betting on?”

  “You miss, you buy us pizza!” Mikey chimed in, never looking up from the flat screen as he swung his avatars oversized sword at a d
emon looking creature. He let out a whoop when the demon disintegrated into blood colored pixels.

  “What do I get if I win?” I asked.

  “You get to hang out with us and get the supplies we know you want us to pilfer for you.” Lizzie responded smugly. The pretty young lady was too smart for her own good sometimes.

  I snorted. “What makes you think I want something? Maybe I just missed you kids.”

  “We got a deal or not?” Gage asked.

  “Deal.” I launched the can. It bounced off the rim and hit the floor. “Double or nothing, pizza and ice cream if I miss. If I win, you guys have to scrounge me up some supplies and wash the Armadillo.”

  Gage tossed me the can and I shot again. It went wide. An observant watcher might have said I flubbed the shot on purpose, but I’ll never tell. A chorus of cheers went up as I dug out the last of my gold coins. Mikey and Catfish grabbed them and shot out the door to go get our grub.

  “Bring me back my change!” I yelled at their backs. Like that was gonna happen.

  While we waited, I asked the kids what they knew about the Tower and the mysterious Mr. Carter. Slippery Jim told me that as far as he knew Jessie, the Road Angel was the only one who’d actually been there. It was a self-contained complex that still retained a lot of the old-world technology. Lakota was still negotiating with them to share their technology. The limited internet everyone was enjoying was a byproduct of those talks.

  “I did overhear Wirebender say he intercepted a message, something about somebody out in Utah trying to get in touch with a guy named Rick Shepard while I was hanging out down at Tommy’s shop. Supposed to be some ex-Spec Ops super ninja dude that’s doing retriever work nobody else will take. Nobody at the shop had ever heard of him and I ain’t heard nothing else.” Jim told me.

  “I’ve never heard of him either, but that doesn’t mean anything. Still, it’s more than I knew and gives me a little something to go on.” I said.

  I regaled them with the story of my encounter with Pascal down on the border and they made a lot of fuss over my missing finger joint while we waited on the food to get back. They shared stories of their own adventures inside and outside the walls. Seems like my little buddies were running a black market for toys and other goods they were acquiring from the shipping containers and business was booming. None of them were doing their own homework anymore, it was farmed out to other students who wanted what they could supply. I laughed and congratulated them on their success. Those skills would take them further in the new world than knowing the functions of the cellular membrane. I winced at the memory. These kids could have been my students once upon a time, most of them were the right age. I pushed the memory aside. Let the ghosts stay in the past.