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

by Wesley R. Norris

  “And,” he continued. “The bakery was closed for a week. Don’t you go breaking that gal’s heart again. You hear me? Sneaking out of town to avoid those Newman boys you hustled without at least telling her goodbye ain’t right. Son, I like a donut with my coffee, and you upset my morning routine. Do not upset my morning routine. Also, find somewhere else to park that nasty beast of a machine, it’s uglying up my street.”

  I’ll give him this. Age hadn’t mellowed the hard ass Marine one bit.

  “It’s complicated and I already told you that’s not exactly how that went. They were cheating.” I said.

  “Hell boy, it’s always complicated with you, and I don’t give a damn about your excuses. You make it complicated. Oh, and where is all the stuff you borrowed from the armory the last few times you were here? I know that’s why you’re here. You only darken my door when you need a favor. I done heard the whispers going around about that uppity fellow from the Tower hunting a retriever with a death wish and some crazy shit about going east. No retriever is dumb enough to take that job. Not even you.”

  I wasn’t real sure if that was a backhanded compliment or not, but I’ll take it.

  “I can’t talk about it. I promise discretion to my clients. I’m here because I need a belt fed machine gun, preferably a MK-48, and you can get me one.” Despite his gruff tone, I knew he was trying to look out for me, well look out for his morning donuts.

  “That’s a lot of firepower.” Cobb said. “But it won’t do you any good when the undead are packed a mile deep in every direction. Why don’t I save you the trouble and just shoot you now?”

  “I know how to use one.” I hinted subtlety to my part in the battle for the survival of this place.

  His battered leather chair creaked as he leaned back and looked me in the eyes.

  “Son, I know who you are and what you’ve done. There’s a lot of new people here that owe their lives to you and think your shit don’t stink due to you helping them get here. I don’t need reminding. I can’t stop you from killing yourself if you’re dead set, but have you really thought this through? You cross that river, you are on your own, there won’t be any way we can help you. There’s gonna be fresh ones there still trapped in buildings. They ain’t been exposed to the elements and the animals, like the ones we are dealing with now. I assume that whatever this clown is wanting you to get is in a building in one of the big cities.”

  “I can’t discuss the particulars, no offense. Look, I can get what I need on the road, but I’m on a deadline. I just figured it would be easier to get it here than hunting one down that’s not been meticulously maintained and serviced.” I appealed to his vanity. The man was a Marine through and through and any weapon under his control was guaranteed to be cleaned and oiled whether it needed it or not.

  He glared at me and chewed his cigar.

  Switching gears, I asked. “What do you know about a man named Carter from the Tower and a former soldier named Rick Shepard? I met Carter in Tombstone a couple of days ago and word is a man named Rick Shepard is my rival for this retrieve.”

  “Nothing, never heard of either one of them. I’d tell you to talk to Jessie, he’s been to the Tower, but he doesn’t answer his damned radio. There’s a lotta people been holed up since this thing began, so there ain’t no telling. I can ask some of the boys if Shepard rings any bells.” He answered. “As for the Tower people, they play it tight and close to the vest. We have a shaky arrangement with them, but nobody really knows what they are doing. They seem to be interested in expanding our relationship but it’s still early days.”

  I nodded. As usual, my little buddies knew more about what was going on than anyone else.

  He picked up a pen and wrote down what I asked for and scrawled his chicken scratch signature at the bottom. I noticed with some degree of satisfaction that there was room for me to add a couple more wish list items to the form. I can’t help myself sometimes. Forgiveness is always easier to get than permission.

  I stood to leave. I was already getting that itch to escape the walls and get back out into the badlands. The clock was ticking, and I needed to be moving.

  “Rye, there’s an old Navy Chief in Huffman, Arkansas named Peebles. He has a ferry there. He’s as crazy as a sprayed roach. He’s a good man, served his country honorably, but he’s been off his meds for some time now. He can take you across the Mississippi if he takes a liking to you, and he probably won’t try to slit your throat for your gear. He likes Wild Turkey and unfiltered Camels. Make sure you show up with some. Good luck, you damned fool. Try not to get yourself killed. Now get out of my office, I’ve got shit to do.” He turned his attention back to the stack of paperwork in front of him.

  “Thanks, Cobb.” I tipped my hat at the old man and left for my next meeting.

  7

  Queen of Diamonds

  Lakota, OK

  The bell at the top of the door chimed as I stepped into the office. The pale yellow room was neat and organized. Cream colored filing cabinets lined one wall. Outdated magazines fanned across the table in the waiting area, along with a few potted plants situated on stands strategically placed to take advantage of the afternoon sun that filtered through the windows. Seated behind the desk was just the person I was looking for.

  “Miss Campbell,” I said as I placed my elbows on the counter and tried to sneak a peek at the spreadsheet she was working on. She minimized the window and turned her attention to me.

  Tangela Campbell, the attractive African American lady seated behind the counter looked at me over the top of her reading glasses without one shred of amusement in her stern gaze. She kept the books for the massive amounts of goods that flowed in and out of Lakota. The inventory sheets for every bullet, side of beef, gallon of fuel and pallet of toilet paper that sat in storage came across her desk. Her office dictated what items the scavenger crews went after. Forklifts didn’t move, truckers didn’t drive, and people didn’t get paid until she signed off on the paperwork.

  “Oh, so we are back to Miss Campbell now, are we?’’

  “Well, it seemed fitting in this formal setting and all you know, considering your esteemed position.” I said.

  “It wasn’t Miss Campbell when me and Caitlin were dancing on the bar wearing your cowboy hat and gun belt down at The Old Goat.” She said with a hint of a smile.

  I grimaced at the memory. Note to travelers, if you find yourself at Naomi’s Old Goat Saloon in Lakota, don’t try to match the normally reserved and professional Tangela Campbell shot for shot in tequila. Do yourself a favor and find the biggest, baddest hombre in the bar and have him punch you in the face a few times. Trust me, the next morning will be a whole lot less painful and less expensive.

  After a wild night of partying with the two women, I’d woken up to warm spring rain splashing me in the face in the alley behind Naomi’s with a pounding skull and a mouth that tasted like a grizzly bear took a shit in it. My lip was split in two places and my left eye was swollen shut. My watch and money pouch were gone, and I was only wearing one cowboy boot. Oh, and it turns out it wasn’t rain. I’d groaned as I watched the scrawny mutt lower his leg and trot away. I’d thrown an empty beer bottle in his direction, but he never even looked back. I’d obviously had a good time but didn’t remember any of it past the second bottle of Jose Cuervo. Tangela and Caitlin giggled and refused to tell me exactly what happened. Their story was they left when I decided to take on a trio of welders who were just minding their own business until I shot my big mouth off.

  I embraced the uncomfortable silence and glanced up at the shelf behind her desk. Next to the pictures of her and her children sat a solitary Tony Llama boot with a plant growing out the top.

  “Son of a bitch,” I muttered. I’d thrown the other one away after I’d given up looking for its mate. I loved those boots. Lizard skin with black piping and broke in just the way I liked them.

  She smiled sweetly at me. “Now, how can I help you Mr. Rye.” Emphasis o
n the mister part.

  “Cobb sent me down here to...” I started to say as I slid the signed slip across the counter.

  “Requisition a FN MK-48 thirty caliber belt fed machine gun along with ten thousand rounds of 7.62x51 ammo and a pair of night vision goggles. Mr. Cobb called me earlier and told me to ignore anything else you added to the list.” She finished the sentence for me.

  Shit, I thought. Well, you can’t blame me for trying.

  “Yeah, and if I could get that pretty quick it would be great. I’ve got a lot of miles to cover. He forgot to add it to the list I see, but I need some fuel too.”

  “Well,” she tapped her pen against her teeth. Obviously, I was gonna catch some shit before she relented and gave me what I needed.

  Here it comes, I braced myself.

  “There’s the small issue of the night vision goggles you already checked out and haven’t returned yet.” Oops, those were at the bottom of a river in Missouri. Long story. The smile was gone, she chewed on the eraser of her pencil. I hate it when she does that. It usually involves groveling on my part.

  “And the M32 Multi-Shot Grenade Launcher you borrowed in February.”

  I frowned, I thought I returned that. No wait, I lost that in a bad hand of poker somewhere in North Dakota. I wasn’t about to confess that one to her.

  “And, you still haven’t paid up on the four hundred gallons of gasoline that’s already on my books.” True story. The Armadillo was a thirsty girl.

  “Yeah, about that….” I couldn’t think of an excuse. “I’ll make it good when I get back. Look, this job isn’t just about the money. There’s a real threat to some people that are important to me, and I don’t have the time to hunt this stuff up on the road or I wouldn’t be here.”

  “Square up with me after your next job and I’ll make sure that they don’t give you any shit at the armory. You know they hate to see you coming anyway and it’s almost time for them to close.” She said with a sigh and picked up the phone. I heard the word asshole and something that sounded like arrogant prick coming through the speaker of the handset. I wondered who they could be talking about.

  “And the fuel? I’ll bring you back something pretty from my trip.” I added when she settled the receiver back in its cradle.

  She sighed again and added a line to the requisition. Many of my successful interactions with women over the years have been followed by a resigned sigh. I take my wins where I can get them. She held out the paper but didn’t let go when I went to pull it from her fingers, stared at me over the top of her glasses again. What was it with folks always looking at me like I was a naughty kid?

  She finally released it with a warning. “Try not to lose the gear this time.”

  “Scout’s honor.” I said.

  I could always count on her, despite my less than stellar track record of returning gear. Sure, most anything you could want was out there for the taking, but I preferred to have gear that was well maintained and not gathering dust in an armory somewhere, surrounded by zombie soldiers in full battle rattle. Another ace up my sleeve was the fact that she and Caitlin had bonded over similar tragedies from the early days and despite her no-nonsense attitude, she was a hopeless romantic at heart who thought me and Caitlin were as cute together as two fluffy kittens chasing butterflies through a field of daisies.

  I’ll admit, sometimes things went a little sideways in my line of work, or in the case of the grenade launcher, my forms of recreation. I almost felt bad about losing it, I really do try to return stuff, but my options at the time were limited. I’d have sworn I was holding a winning hand with a straight flush, but that cheating bastard laid down four aces. I’d tried to call him out, but I was outnumbered twelve to one and they threatened to cut off Little Catcher if I didn’t pony up something to cover my losses. I’d already had enough body parts cut off me to last a lifetime. By the time those bandits had fired off the remaining two grenades in the cylinder at a rusty propane tank and realized I didn’t leave them any more I was in the ‘Dillo headed back to New Mexico as fast as she’d carry me.

  “Are you listening to me?” She snapped her fingers, interrupting my trip down bad memory lane.

  I shook away the memory. “Yeah, soon as this job is finished, I promise, I’ll make it all square.”

  She handed me a pen to sign the form to take down to the quartermaster at the armory. I signed it Lance McCullough in my rolling script and slid it back to her. She glanced at it but didn’t say anything.

  “It’s two for one at the Old Goat tonight.” She said, as she buzzed the security door that would let me into the armory.

  “Can I have my boot back?” I asked in reply.

  “Not a chance.” She laughed.

  “Well, that’s my answer too. You have a nice day, Miss Campbell.” I tipped my hat and stepped through the door before she changed her mind.

  8

  Ante Up

  Lakota, OK

  The sun was peeking over the horizon when I checked my gear one last time. The kids had come through, just like I knew they would. Two crates of supplies were sitting in the cargo bay of the Armadillo. I set the MK-48 in its cradle welded to the roll cage and hooked up the remote firing system, linked up a belt of ammo and racked the handle.

  “I’m all set. Time to roll.” I pulled Caitlin to me and kissed her for what I hoped wasn’t the last time. I was dead tired. It had been a long, interesting night. Turns out that she really did miss me as badly as she claimed, and I learned that pecan pie could be served in ways I’d never dreamed of before. Needless to say, there wasn’t much sleeping going on.

  I felt like shit for downplaying the threat to her safety. Maybe I was wrong to, but I had a plan to protect her. My options were simple, succeed or die trying. Coming back without the retrieve wasn’t on the table. As long as I kept those facts foremost in my mind, she would remain safe. I contemplated just taking her and running, but there was no escaping this. Caitlin had a life, friends and a thriving business, I couldn’t ask her to leave that all behind. Too many people had witnessed the meet between me and Carter and I had no doubts he would make good on his threat against her. If I ran I would be finished as a retriever, hunted and constantly looking over my shoulder. Sooner or later Burch or someone just as bad would find us. I’d rather die doing what I loved than become a fugitive.

  “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.” She whispered.

  “Who, me?” I asked with a crooked grin.

  “I’m not joking.” She hit me in the chest with her fist.

  I grabbed the hand and brought it to my lips. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

  “You better. I’m riding to the gate to see you off.” She insisted. I nodded and boosted her up into the cab. Bo leapt in behind her.

  I wasn’t prepared for the spectacle at the gates. Looked like half the town had turned out. I saw Gage, Lizzie and the crew waving from atop the wall and waved back. McCullough was already there, his truck facing the sally port. He was laughing about something with some of the assembled townsfolk. Sheriff Collins looked at me and shook her head before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

  A man wearing an expensive suit with a flashy gold chain and slicked back hair ran up to the side of the Armadillo and thrust a microphone in my face.

  “Bastille,” Caitlin muttered with a curse under her breath.

  “Rye, can you tell us about this treasure you’re after? Every settlement is buzzing with news about you going to the far East. Would you care to comment?” He asked rapidly.

  “Yeah, piss off.” I said.

  “But the people have a right to know…” He blustered. I did my best to knock him on his ass with the door, but he was nimble for a big man and dodged to the side.

  “The people have a right to mind their own damned business. Get out of my face or we’ll find out just how quick you can move with that microphone jammed up your ass.”

  He didn’t budge, stood his ground defiant
ly, unphased by my threat. Pissing folks off was his shtick. He spoke rapidly into the microphone attached to a cassette player hanging around his neck. “There you have it folks. A shining example of how these retrievers think they can do whatever they want with no accountability to anyone but themselves. Sounds like a lot of big talk if you ask me.”

  He chattered on but I tuned him out. I exited the Jeep and walked around to Caitlin’s side. I helped her to the ground while Bo whined and tried to hide in the back seat.

  “Come on, Bo. Not this time.” I said. “Your job is here.”

  He shot me a pitiful look and hopped to the ground to sit at Caitlin’s feet. McCullough pushed his way through the throng with a shit eating grin on his face.

  “Man, this is big. Superbowl and World Series rolled into one big. The limited internet signal has already crashed, and the Ham is nonstop chatter. Every bar in the territories is taking bets on when and where you buy it. Reports are coming in from all over the settlements about groups of bandits setting up blockades and ambushes. Whoever’s backing these guys has some major mojo, Bastille’s saying they’ve put up some serious coin to whoever can take you out. They’re pulling out all the stops to get their people on site first and shut you down before you even get started. A source of mine told me your competition was mobilizing from somewhere in Utah so you’ve got a head start if you can break through.”