Dead America The Second Week (Book 3): Dead America: El Paso, Part 2

by Slaton, Derek

  “Well hell, there has to be one.” Reed threw his hands up. “How the hell can anybody live out here and not drink?”

  Trenton shook his head. “If there is one, I’m not seeing it.”

  “You know,” Jay piped up, “I went out on a couple of dates with a girl from Van Horn. She lived in a pretty nice house.”

  Reed snorted. “Bitch, nobody that lives in a nice house would ever go out with you.”

  “Okay, a nice house for the area.” Jay rolled his eyes. “Nicer than anything else I saw driving through the town. I figure if we can’t find a liquor store, that might be our best bet.”

  “It’s thin,” Trenton mused, “but I’ve heard thinner.” He rubbed his chin.

  “Goddammit,” Malcolm muttered, furiously tapping one of the gauges on the dune buggy.

  Trenton raised an eyebrow. “Problem?”

  “I’m almost out of gas,” the younger man replied sheepishly.

  “Jesus Christ man, can you not keep up with this shit?” Reed snapped.

  Malcolm scowled. “I filled up with you guys! I should still have half a tank.” He shook his head. “Must have sprung a leak again.”

  Trenton sighed and put the binoculars to his eyes again, trying to find a gas station. “Looks like there’s a truck stop on the south side of the interstate,” he said. “You two get filled up, then circle around the east side of the city and see if you can find a liquor store.”

  Clara raised her hand. “How are we going to fill up if there’s no power?”

  “It’s a truck stop in a small town in the middle of the desert,” Malcolm replied. “More than likely, they have a generator. If a storm rolls through and knocks the power out, they’re not exactly at the top of the list to get it fixed, so they have to be prepared.”

  Trenton got off of his bike and walked over to them, putting a firm hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Do not go through the center of town, do you understand?” he asked. “God only knows what’s in there.”

  “Yeah, of course,” Malcolm replied, blinking rapidly. “I’m not stupid.”

  Reed snorted. “Says the man who’s out of gas.”

  “Fuck you!” Malcolm snapped, narrowing his eyes.

  Trenton clapped his hands together sharply. “Drop it, both of you,” he warned. “Malcolm, Clara, the three of us are going to go around the west side of town and check out the houses on the north side. We’re going to be on frequency thirteen. Call only if there is an emergency or if you locate our target.” He held up his walkie talkie and gave it a little shake.

  Malcolm pulled out his own and handed it over to Clara. “Here, you’d better hang on to this,” he said. “I have a tendency to misplace them.”

  “If something goes wrong and we lose contact, meet back at this spot in two hours,” Trenton instructed. “Any questions?” He waited a beat, but nobody said anything. “Okay, let’s do this.” He strode over and got back on his bike, kicking it back to life.

  He watched the dune buggy trundle off towards the truck stop, and he turned to lead the others along the west edge of town. They found a dirt trail, likely a walking trail for the locals, and though it was a bumpy ride, it was a lot safer than going through town.

  Trenton slowed to a stop when he spotted a row of relatively expensive-looking houses through the trees. “Is that them?” he asked.

  “Yep,” Jay replied with a nod. “That’s them.”

  “What’s that building over there?” Reed asked, pointing to a fairly large structure on the far side.

  Trenton pulled out his binoculars, surveying a football field with bleachers next to it. “Looks like a school,” he said.

  “If there’s nothing in the houses, we could give that a shot,” Reed suggested.

  Jay’s brow furrowed. “You think we’re going to find the booze we’re looking for inside a school?”

  “Shit man, every teacher I know is a borderline alcoholic,” Reed replied, rolling his eyes. “I mean, wouldn’t you be if you had to deal with dozens of assholes like us every day?”

  Trenton shook his head. “Have you ever seen a teacher’s pay stub?”

  Reed shrugged. “Nope.”

  “Let’s just say they aren’t going to be buying top shelf stuff,” the older man replied, and turned the binoculars back to the houses.

  They were out in the open, no fences lining any of the yards. A few zombies roamed about behind the eastern-most house, but that seemed to be the only activity.

  “Route looks pretty clear,” Trenton reported. “Just two of those things outside the house on the left.”

  Reed crossed his arms. “So, we start on the right?”

  “No, we should take them out.” Trenton shook his head and got off of his bike, rolling it down into the bushes. “If we draw their attention and they start making a racket, they could bring the whole town down on us.”

  Jay reached down for the long metal pipe he’d secured to the side of his bike before walking it over next to Trenton’s. He made sure the kickstand was secure and then got out of the way so Reed could join them. The latter took off his button-up overshirt, leaving him in a beater with his weapon harness housing a mini metal baseball bat.

  Trenton pulled up one of his pant legs to free his machete, and turned to the duo. “Okay, which one of you wants to pick the lock?” he asked.

  The two younger men turned towards each other and immediately engaged in a quick game of rock, paper, scissors.

  “Dammit,” Jay muttered as his friend cut his flattened hand with his finger scissors.

  Reed scoffed. “It’s just one zombie, man, you can handle it.” He clapped his companion on the back.

  “Last time I swung this thing, I pulled a muscle,” Jay whined, giving the pipe a few whooshes through the air.

  Trenton waved for them to follow him through the trees. “It’s a bit of a walk, so you have time to limber up.”

  “Everybody remember where we parked,” Reed said, making a beeping noise with his mouth as he mimed using an auto-lock clicker.

  When they reached the tree line, they crouched in the bushes behind the backyard. The zombies stared up at the house as they ambled back and forth, not paying attention.

  “You get that door open quick,” Trenton whispered to Reed, “we don’t know what else is around here.”

  The younger man nodded, and got ready to spring.

  Trenton dove out of the bushes first, leaping for the zombie on the left. His footsteps alerted it just in time for it to turn to face a machete to the mouth, the blade cutting its head in half. As it crumpled to the ground, Jay lowered his shoulder and caught the other one in the back, sending it crashing to the ground.

  Before it could get up, he landed his pipe onto the back of its head twice in quick succession. The creature twitched once and then fell still, and Jay rotated his shoulder a bit, switching the pipe to his other hand.

  “You good?” Trenton whispered, and the younger man gave him a thumbs up.

  They approached Reed, who was still working on the lock, digging around in there for all he was worth. Jay tapped him on the shoulder and pointed at the met he knelt on. His friend moved and they lifted it, finding a silver key beneath.

  Jay smacked him on the shoulder and grinned, and Reed shook his head, shooting him the bird before sliding the key into the lock. He gave a silent countdown before pulling the door open, and Trenton rushed in first.

  Something collided into his side, and he flopped to the tile floor, a snarling corpse on top of him. He got a hand up around the creature’s neck, bracing his elbow to keep the snapping jaws at bay. More moans came from the hallway, and he waved frantically at Jay.

  “I’ve got this, clear the house!” he commanded.

  Reed slammed the door and locked it, the two of them heading quickly across the kitchen. Jay slammed the end of his pipe into the eye of a shambling zombie in the hallway, and Reed slipped past to check the living room. The duo made quick work of the bedrooms at
the front of the bungalow, finding nobody else.

  “Clear!” Reed called as he emerged from the bathroom, and Jay nodded at him.

  “Great!” Trenton grunted from the kitchen. “Y’all wanna come help me, now?”

  Jay’s eyes widened and he barreled back. “Shit, sorry man!” he blurted as he and Reed each took an arm of the older man’s attacker. They jerked it back and pinned it against the wall, holding it still so Trenton could stab it in the forehead with his machete.

  As he wiped the blade on the corpse’s pants, Trenton waved his free hand around the large kitchen. “Reed, you check in here,” he instructed. “I’ll do the living room. Jay, you scour the bedroom closets and dressers.”

  “Just in case they have a secret stash?” Jay asked.

  Trenton nodded. “Or ammo. It’s not our primary target, but damned if it isn’t a close second.”

  They split up to search the house, and the only sound was the creaks of opening cabinets and the clickety-clack of rummaging items. Within a few minutes, they reconvened in the kitchen.

  “Not a goddamn thing in here,” Reed reported as he stood up from beneath the sink.

  Trenton held up a half-full bottle of whiskey. “Found a bottle of cheap shit by the recliner,” he said. “Guess the previous owner got tired of standing up for his drinks.”

  “I found a box of nine mil, no gun though,” Jay said as he stuffed the ammo into one of his side pockets.

  “Well, it’s better than nothing,” Reed said with a shrug.

  Trenton settled his backpack on his back. “Okay, let’s get geared up for house number two.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Malcolm pulled up to the first pump, about fifteen feet away from the main truck stop building. They unbuckled their seat belts and got out of the dune buggy.

  “We need to find the generator,” he said, pointing around the building. “Should be around the back, there.”

  Clara furrowed her brow. “Aren’t you going to turn this thing off?”

  “With as temperamental as it’s being, it’s best to leave it up and running,” he replied, shaking his head. “Last thing we need is to get it gassed up and then not be able to start it.”

  She pursed her lips, a million concerns springing to her lips, but she bit them back. These guys were the experienced ones, not her. She was just along to help, and helping meant doing as she was told.

  She drew her knife and headed around the building, her new companion following behind her. Around the corner was a tall wooden privacy fence, creating a small cubby nestled right up against the wall of the truck stop.

  Malcolm peeked through a crack in the wood. “Bingo,” he said as he spotted the generator inside. He looked around, spotting a tire iron leaning up against a pile of scrap metal nearby. He picked it up and made quick work of the wooden door, prying open the lock. As the door sprang free, he handed the tire iron over to Clara. “Here, you should hang on to this,” he said. “It’ll give you a little more reach than that knife.”

  She took it with a nod, sheathing her knife. “Thanks.” She turned the tire iron over in her hands a few times as he stepped into the cubby and pulled the cord on the generator a few times.

  It sputtered and then roared to life, drowning out the sound of the dune buggy out front.

  Malcolm turned back to her. “We should make this quick,” he yelled, “I don’t like how loud this thing is!”

  Clara nodded and gave him a thumbs up instead of replying. The duo froze on the spot, breath catching as they spotted movement across the road. An old run-down trailer park stood there, and close to what looked like eighty zombies emerged from the thick of it, staggering towards the source of the noise.

  Malcolm tore to the pump to refuel as fast as he could, but Clara stayed rooted to the spot, mesmerized at the size of the horde lumbering towards them. This was the biggest group of zombies she’d seen so far, and she blinked slowly, her brain suddenly sluggish. She couldn’t help but wonder what the hell she’d gotten herself into—if she were in over her head with these guys.

  Malcolm quickly popped off the gas cap and inserted the nozzle, but the trigger popped back when he tried to dispense gas.

  “Fucking hell,” he muttered, and pulled a credit card from his pocket. Even in the apocalypse, big brother still wanted every last cent. He entered his pin, and then tried the trigger again, but still no gas.

  The screen on the pump flashed Would you like a car wash today?

  “No, I don’t want a fucking car wash!” Malcolm screamed, and hit the decline button. Finally the gas started to flow, and he turned to signal for Clara to run to him. As her glazed-over eyes registered him, her mouth opened in a scream that he couldn’t hear over the cacophony of noise around him.

  He didn’t realize what she was saying, but the intent was clear when a warm and gooey hand wrapped around his bicep.

  Clara leapt forward, but as Malcolm struggled with the zombie, the hose came free of the tank and spewed liquid all over the place. The gas ignited from the running dune buggy, and liquid fire bathed the ground in a freakish glow.

  She turned tail and quickly pounded the emergency pump shutoff button on the side of the building, and then the fire suppression button next, sending a thick white cloud from the awning down onto the flames.

  She pressed her back against the brick wall, holding her tire iron at the ready, holding her breath as she waited for the cloud to dissipate.

  “Malcolm?” she croaked, and swallowed with fear as the silhouette of a staggering corpse appeared in the smog. Two more flanked it, and then she could make out the shape of the dune buggy. Next to it, there appeared to be three shadows feasting on a fallen fourth, and a sob ripped its way out of her throat.

  Clara didn’t have much time to think. The trailer park horde had caught her scent, and everything under the awning was fire-singed but still dangerous. So she ran.

  She pumped her legs as fast as she could into the street, and made a snap decision to run under the bridge towards town. She didn’t think that running for the interstate would help her, and if she ran into a horde with no cover she’d be screwed. At least in town she could hide as she moved.

  On the other side of the bridge, there were a few handfuls of corpses scattered about, moving slow. Nearby there was a row of semi-detached houses, one end shrouded in dense tree cover.

  She took off as quickly as she could for that end, using the bushes to hide from any staggering dead. She hit the back door of the end house, and wiggled the knob. It didn’t appear to have a deadbolt, so she jammed her knife into the latch and jiggled it until the lock came free. She dove in and slammed the door behind her, raising her tire iron in a defensive position in case anything came at her from the dark.

  After a few moments of silence, she let out a deep ragged breath and locked the door again, pressing her back against it and sinking to the floor. What the fuck was she supposed to do now?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Motherfucker.” Reed slammed the kitchen cupboard shut in frustration. “Doesn’t anybody drink in this town?”

  Jay put a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. “Dude, you need to relax, we’ll find something.”

  “This is the fourth house we’ve searched,” Reed grunted as he swatted his friend’s arm away. “If we don’t find anything the cartel is going to murder us all.”

  Trenton walked into the kitchen and leaned on the island, facing them. “Jay’s right,” he said gently. “You need to relax, man. We still have another rich person’s house to hit, and we haven’t even gone into town yet. Plenty of opportunity to find what we need.”

  “Besides, if we don’t find anything, we can always say fuck it and just head east,” Jay added, a lopsided grin breaking out on his face. “It’ll be like Easy Rider, just on dirt bikes… with zombies.”

  Reed couldn’t help but laugh. “You know they died at the end of Easy Rider, don’t you?”

  “Dude, spoilers
!” Jay clapped his hands over his ears, gasping dramatically.

  Trenton peeked out the back window. “Looks like the coast is clear, let’s move,” he said, back to business, and the trio got ready to move. At this point darting across the backyard and standing guard while Reed picked the neighbor’s lock was routine.

  “We’re in,” he hissed as the bolt clicked, and he turned the knob.

  An ear-splitting alarm blasted into their faces, echoing with jarring clarity through the air.

  “What the fuck, man?!” Jay screamed, eyes wide. “There’s no fucking power, how is this thing going off?!”

  Reed rushed inside. “Fuck if I know, but it is!” he yelled back, nearly drowned out by the bleating alarm.

  Trenton shoved Jay in and motioned for them to keep their eyes open as he slammed the door behind them. They split up and ran through the house, being cautious in case of zombies but trying to hurry to find the source of the insanely loud alarm.

  Trenton skidded down the side hallway, and spotted the attic trap door in the ceiling. He pulled it down and hurried up the ladder, finding a car battery hooked up to a series of electronics. He grabbed a handful of wires and yanked them free, finally silencing the alarm.

  He let out a deep breath, ears ringing from the sudden silence, and slid down the ladder.

  “What the hell was it?” Reed asked from the other end of the hallway, speaking louder than necessary over his own ears.

  “Fucking jury rigged job,” Trenton replied as he strode over to him, “hooked it up to a car battery.”

  Jay hollered at them from the living room, staring out through the bay window overlooking the front yard. “Holy fuck man, we gotta go! We gotta go and go now!” he yelled, motioning wildly to the window.

  Several dozen zombies emerged from the houses across the street, pouring around the corners with no sign of stopping.

  “Jay, we need to-” Trenton began, but the younger man dashed past him before he could finish, tearing for the back door.