Five Roads To Texas (Book 10): Salvation

by Gamboa, Allen

  Ram quickly punched in the four-digit code and stepped back away from the big door. Holding his Beretta Storm close in, Ram quickly flipped off the handguns safety, a round already chambered and ready to go.

  Still holding his sidearm at the ready, he stepped back a couple of feet and took cover in the left side of the door frame. There were two loud pops and a strained pneumatic hiss as the big door squeaked then slowly rolled upward. Lights automatically powered on inside the Quonset hut as Ram gave Jesse a quick backwards glance then cautiously stepped inside.

  “Come on Ram.” Jesse muttered to herself as she turned the Rosary she had wrapped around her right wrist and watched her partner disappear inside the fake water district building. She was more than a little concerned with what Ram might encounter inside the reinforced Quonset hut. Looking around and making sure they still weren’t followed by any infected or dirtbags wanting them or their gear and vehicles, she refocused her attention on the open rolling door. A bright yellow light illuminated the area a few feet in front of the Quonset hut as it started to become a little darker outside. Several long minutes later, Jesse heard the familiar jingle of keys as Ram ran out of the building and headed for the locked gate.

  “Key ring was hanging inside.” He handed them to Jesse through a five-inch opening in the fence. His partner quickly snatched up the key ring and flipped through the dozen or so keys until she found one stamped Master Lock.

  “What’s inside?” Jesse asked as she inserted the key in the lock.

  “All kinds of shit.” Ram smiled as Jesse pushed open the gate. “Let’s put the truck inside and have us a looksee.”

  “Sounds good.” Jesse hurried over to the driver’s side of the Durango and started pushing it up. “Pops.”

  Chapter Six

  CATCH OUR BREATH

  Peach Springs, AZ

  After Jesse had driven the SUV into the fenced area surrounding the big Quonset hut, Ram quickly closed the gates, securing the padlock. Grabbing their weapons and packs out of the Durango, the two hurried into the building. Ram stopped a few feet inside the Quonset hut and dropping his gear, he pressed a button on a keypad inside. The main door hissed and rolled closed, locking both of them inside the building . After making sure the door was secure, Ram turned back to Jesse, who was glancing around the Quonset huts interior.

  “What do you think?”

  “You were right.” Jesse nodded as she stared at the rows of pelican cases and cardboard boxes that were illuminated by several fluorescent lights that hung from the ceiling. “That is a lot of shit.” She sneezed at the musty smell. “At least this place hasn’t been used in a while.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know what their power source is but this place seems to be 100 percent functional. There’s even a shower and toilet in the back.”

  “Really?” Jesse grinned. It had been weeks since she’d had anything but an occasional bird bath.

  “Really.” He pointed behind a row of crates. “There is a heavy work bench over there. A couple of ammo reloading machines and some barrels filled with gunpowder and oil. Looks like some kind of table next to all of that with at least a dozen chairs. Even a freaking microwave. Maybe some kind of staging area?” Ram shrugged. “Look, there’s a couple freaking coffee makers, and I found eight bunk beds in the rear of the hut. Even a few cases of real toilet paper!” The old guard said, a little too excited. TP apparently was some kind of miracle weapon against the flesh eaters making it a hard to find commodity in the apocalypse.

  “Wow. Toilet paper, that shit is gold.” Jesse nodded, a little impressed as she turned back to look at Ram. “Must be a restock for a squad of a safe house?” She nodded in agreement. “Maybe we can stay here for a little bit. Catch our breath.”

  “Catch our breath and wipe our asses. Maybe.” Ram knew a break from the road and being able to get a full night's sleep without worrying about the infected would be a good thing. He also knew the longer it took them to get to California, the slimmer his chances were of finding his family.

  “Ram?”

  “Yeah, we can spend the night. Hell, we do need a good rest.” “And a shower.”

  “First let’s check out these other crates.” Ram nodded.

  “Shower first Ram. You smell like someone died and was pickled in a turd barrel.”

  “Yeah,” He sniffed at his shirt and made a face. “You’re right. A shower sounds good about now.” Ram walked over to one of their packs and started to pull out his last fresh change of clothes. “You find us some coffee Jesse?”

  “Oh yeah.” Jesse chuckled. “Definitely. Here.” She tossed him a bar of soap from her pack. Apparently there hadn’t been a run on bar soap during the initial fall of civilization. “Keep it.”

  Chapter Seven

  PLANNING FOR A RAINY DAY

  Peach Tree, AZ

  “Why the Hell is all this stuff marked in English?” Jesse asked as the two visually inventoried the stacked crates that filled about a third of the building. She took a sip from a Styrofoam cup that was filled with hot, Folgers coffee . The Folgers and cups she’d found packed away in a cabinet underneath the coffee maker.

  Jesse never thought a cup of coffee could ever taste so good. “What do you mean?” Ram was wearing the last of his clean clothes, a black T-shirt that said ‘JUST HERE FOR THE VIOLENCE’ and green fatigue pants .

  During the first days of their break from Ian and his crew, he’d found a pair of Black Converse Rapid Response boots in the wreckage of a UPS truck.

  After escaping the clinic in flip flops he was desperate for shoes, the converse fit and he’d been wearing them ever since. Ram had started to pop the latches on one of the big pelican cases that were stenciled in black, PROPERTY OF UNITED STATES ARMY. “I mean all the crap in that HEMTT was marked in Korean. This stuff is all military, our military.” “Maybe it’s stolen?” Ram shrugged. “Ian and his crew were pretty shady.”

  “True, I mean someone or some group planned out all these safe houses. That’s a pretty tall order. What the hell have we really gotten into?”

  “You’re asking me? The guy that spent weeks strapped to a hospital bed with only Judge Judy reruns to watch. Now, that was fucking torture.” He grunted as he finished unlatching and removing the lid. “Holee shit!”

  Inside the padded interior of the pelican case were six brand new M4 rifles .Ram set the lid down against the side of the case and glanced over at his partner.

  “M4’s.”

  “There’s six more cases like this one.” Ram pointed over to the rest.

  “42 rifles, that’s a small army.” Jesse had showered and changed into a black jumpsuit they’d found in a crate in the HEMTT. There were several dozens of the black, unmarked suits inside the box that had been marked in Korean.

  Jesse had dug through the wooden crate until she found a couple of the jumpsuits that fit and shoved them into her pack along with a pair of size six, side zip 5.11 tactical boots.

  “There’s cases of MRES, cases of water bottles, dozens of ammo boxes. What the hell?” “See those pelican cases over there?” Jesse pointed to a row of ten cases stacked neatly together.

  “Yeah?”

  “Those are med chest. I’ve used those in the field before. Ten of them, that’s a whole lot of medical equipment. Someone was expecting something big.”

  “Like an outbreak.”

  “Like an outbreak.” Jesse agreed as she finished off her coffee. “Someone was planning for a rainy day.”

  “But all this shit is American.” Ram knelt down in front of the Pelican case full of rifles. “North Koreans and us? Did our government have a hand in this thing?”

  “More like some internal faction. Sleeper agents or something like that.” Jesse moved over to another case that was unmarked. Curious, she unlatched the lid and popped it off.

  Reaching inside she pulled out a folded pair of Army ACU fatigues and showed them to Ram. The older man just let out a tired sigh and stood up. “These are
United States Army uniforms.” She said dropping the fatigues back into the case.

  “You think Ian and his people knew anything about this? Were they sleeper agents?”

  “I think Ian knew what he was loading up but it’s purpose,” She shrugged. “he is probably in the dark as much as we are. I doubt that crew were a bunch of sleeper agents.”

  “Fuck.” Ram said under his breath. He glanced over at the table where the second cup of coffee he’d just poured sat and decided against it, Ram was wired enough just thinking about the implications of what they had just found.

  “You’d think, Ram,” Jesse said replacing the lid on the case. “You’d be happier than a sister wife on her night off. I mean we’re smack dab in the middle of the Apocalypse and whoo hoo, look at all this gear we found. Hell, we even have a secure place to stay for a while and a whole case of Chili and Macaroni MRES. Life is good.”

  “For now.” Ram stared over at the numerous pelican cases that were stacked throughout the Quonset hut. Something within the multiple serums, viruses, and elixirs they had injected him with over the weeks he’d been imprisoned in the clinic, seemed to drop him mentally into a darkness he had never experienced before. Ram was glad he could at least realize when he was starting to slip into the blackness and stop it.

  “Now is all that matters, Ram. The bigger picture of this is beyond our scope. Our mission is to eventually find your family. After that we locate some reputable medical professionals to give your miracle blood to and save the world, right? Easy Peasey.”

  “Yeah,” Ram nodded and gave her a tired smile. “I’m kinda hungry. We can sort this shit out later. What’s this Chili and Mac you speak of?”

  “I’ll show you. Stuff is aces.” She said heading over to where the cases of MREs were stacked. “Of course, you wouldn’t know, I don’t think the Air Force believes in MREs.”

  “No, we were smart, we had four-star chow halls.”

  Chapter Eight

  BANANA HAMMOCK

  The Nugget Casino, Reno, NV

  “I like it when they scramble around like chickens with their heads cut off. Looks like they are drunk.” Baz said as he scanned the crowd of infected that stumbled around the street below them. ”Makes me feel like I’m back home in Vladivostok.”

  Amused with himself, the Russian handed the high-powered binoculars to his partner who stood next to him on the rooftop of the 29th floor of the Nugget Casino’s west tower. Several dozen of the feral people were wandering the debris littered streets around Victorian plaza looking for something to eat.

  “Bunch of drunks that smell like shit? Don’t get all homesick on me now.” Roman turned the sweat encrusted Red Robin ball cap around on his head then put the binoculars up to his eyes. “We’re 30 stories up.” Baz wiped a hand across his beard. “How can you smell anything?”

  “That shit smell just lingers. The heat is not helping any. Besides, we’re Twenty-nine stories up.” “Easy climb.” Baz said.

  “Easy? Felt like it would never end climbing up all those damn stairs. Seems like the boss could have picked a closer vantage point than this?” Roman said as he focused the binoculars on a big cinderblock building that sat in the Union Pacific Rail yard across the road from the casino. Three blue United Nations Humvees we’re parked in a lot outside of the structure. Several big satellite dishes protruded from the building’s roof. From where the two mercenaries stood they could see four UN soldiers in various positions guarding the cinderblock building. None of the blue helmeted men seemed to be worried about keeping themselves hidden from view.

  “We could have planted our happy asses on the freeway or that parking garage across the way.”

  “Da,” Baz nodded as he opened a can of Pork ‘n beans and hungrily dug a spork into it. “But then we’d have to watch for infected.”

  “Good point. I just hate hauling all this shit up to the roof for a few minutes work. You know,” Roman turned to face the Russian who was quickly shoveling the cold beans into his bearded mouth. “we’re going to have to BASE jump our asses down those twenty-nine floors we just climbed up, plus probably shoot a few of those crazies on our way out.”

  “Da.” Baz nodded as he finished the cold Pork ‘n beans. “What else you have to do today Roman, huh?”

  “Not watch you drip beans all over your hairy mug for one, and not get eaten by a bunch of shit smeared infected.”

  “You complain too much Roman.” Baz tossed away the empty can and wiped his hands on his gray camo pants. The Russian tucked the dirty spork into one of his leg pockets.

  “You gamble Baz?”

  “Every day is a gamble when you live in Russia.”

  “No I mean really gamble. I used to love craps. I used to come here all the time. Mostly stayed at the Atlantis. You should have seen this place. Always lit up. Biggest little city, you know?” “No,” The Russian belched. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, anyway, the place was hopping. Now it’s like most cities, a cesspool of flesh-eating monsters that shit themselves. Sad.”

  “Bah, Roman.” Baz waved him off. “Are we on?”

  “Hold it.” Roman turned back toward the direction of the rail yard. He unclipped the radio from his duty belt and spoke into it. “Ground floor, Overwatch.”

  “Go ahead Overwatch.” A voice crackled over the radio speaker.

  “Rail yard has four guards. Two on each end of the building. Looks like they don’t care about being seen.”

  “Roger, Overwatch. Wait for my signal then take them out.”

  “10-4.” Roman said looking down at his watch. The radio went silent as the mercenary clipped it back on his belt. “We are up Baz.”

  “Are we good?.” The Russian smiled as he retrieved the heavy Mosin Nagant from its gun bag. He checked the rifle, making sure it was in working order, then leaned over the lip of the Casino in the direction of the cinder block building. The Russian was pretty sure that he was far enough away from their targets that they wouldn’t see him leaning over the top of the Casino’s roof. It was a cardinal sin to expose yourself, but Baz felt pretty cocky right now. Before he settled into a good sniping position, he reached down and pulled at the crotch of his gray fatigues.

  “What the fuck you doing Baz?” Roman asked as he pulled the suppressed M21 sniper rifle from its bag and gave it a quick once over.

  “My thong is riding up. Can’t concentrate.”

  “You wear a thong?” Roman asked incredulously as he got into firing position.

  “Uh, not a thong. Wrong word. A Speedo? It’s what you guys call a banana ham... hammock. Banana Hammock.”

  “Fuck, Baz, you just hanging all out and shit?” He focused his rifles scope on one of the blue helmeted guards. “Doesn’t it get fucking cold in Siberia?”

  “Da it does but true Freedom, my American friend, is wholly underrated.” The Russian focused on the soldier that appeared in his scope. “You should try it.”

  “I’ll pass Baz. You ever catch me wearing a thong then I probably cut my dick off.” Roman glanced over to where their parachutes sat stacked together. Satisfied their escape route was ready to go, he slapped Baz on the back. “What the hell do you think they have inside there?” “Weapons, food?” The Russian shrugged. “Has to be something good. Reese wouldn’t waste our time on some bullshit.” Baz let out a foul burp then wiped his bearded mouth.

  “Jeez Baz, would it kill you to brush your teeth once in a while. Fuck, that was nasty.” “Brushing your teeth is a fabrication of the American Dentist. It’s all about money. Toothpaste just fucks up your teeth. Did the Vikings brush their teeth? No. It is what you say, all a scam. Besides, a little vodka kills everything.”

  “Scam or not, your breath still smells like you just sucked off an elephant and a donkey.”

  “It’s all a conspiracy of American corporations to make money.” The Russian continued, ignoring Roman’s jab. He glanced down at the face of the expensive Rolex watch he’d liberated from a jewelry s
tore in Vegas, and thought that they’d been up here much too long.

  “Look around Baz.” He waved a gloved hand at the apocalyptic destruction around them. The sky toward the North was dark and thick with smoke and ash as the forest in California burned. “Ain’t no corporations left. California’s on fire. Brush your fucking teeth. Hell, I’ll even let you borrow my toothpaste, ya stinky bastard.”

  “Like I said, you complain too much Roman.” Baz said, focusing his attention on the soldier that appeared in his scope. “Besides, how do you know what a donkey dick smells like?”

  “Your mother told me.”

  “Da, mother did get around.” Baz shrugged.

  Chapter Nine

  LET’S SEE YOUR STUPID FACE!

  NK Outpost Sparks, NV

  Major Ban KI-Moon, poured himself another steaming mug of American coffee then dropped a handful of sugar cubes into it. This was something he’d never been able to do back home in Nampo.

  The Major considered himself fortunate if he got his usual rations of tea on time. Now, Ban KI-Moon was able to indulge himself in the fat of the American’s prosperity. The senior North Korean officer grinned as he used a spork to slowly stir the hot, black, liquid.

  Satisfied the cubes had dissolved, he picked up the cup and walked over to his desk. A large paper map of the western United States was spread out across it. Sitting down in a leather rolling chair,