The Deadland Chronicles (Book 2): The Undead Horde

by Spears, R. J.

  Mason only knew that they were sitting ducks if they stood out in the open. The trailer would not protect them if any shooting started.

  Back before their underground compound had been attacked and destroyed by the soldiers at the Manor, they had only the rarest of skirmishes with marauders and other less savory types. Most of those were in the field. Only one time did anyone discover their compound and try anything.

  Once those folks discovered that Donovan’s people were armed and ready to defend themselves, they’d hightailed out of the area.

  This was a whole different story. His people were exposed and mostly unarmed.

  “Get off the road,” he yelled. “Get into the woods.”

  “Stay where you are, or we will start shooting,” a voice shouted from the woods.

  The people heading off the road hesitated and looked back to where the voice was coming from. Then they looked to Donovan for guidance.

  “Keep going,” Donovan yelled.

  That’s when the first shots were fired. Mason heard bullets whiz over his head, and he ducked down. He quickly inventoried the people running from the trailer and was relieved to see that none of them had been shot. He then tried to track down the source of the shots but saw only trees and underbrush.

  Instead of running, many of the people ducked down like Mason, fear filling their expressions. It was clear that some of them were frozen in panic, but others looked ready to bolt. They just didn’t know where to run.

  Just like Mason, Donovan frantically surveyed the woods, but the figures he had spotted earlier had disappeared from view. He turned his attention to his people and was alarmed when he saw a small subset of the people had returned to the trailer, clinging to it as if it could protect them.

  Why hadn’t Mason gotten them off the road was the question that shot through his mind.

  The answer came back quickly. Because someone had just shot at them.

  His mind quickly made the jump that whoever had shot at them had wanted them locked down. Had wanted them scared. For what, he did not know, but he didn’t plan to follow their lead. Not at all.

  “Mason, get them off the road into the woods,” he shouted. “Do it now.”

  Mason yelled back, “Which way?”

  Donovan was pretty sure that the shots had come from the right side of the road, so he said, “To the left.”

  Mason shouted, “Let’s go people. Off the road. Now!”

  It took a few seconds for them to overcome their terror, but once two or three of them started running, a sort of flocking mentality kicked in, and the others quickly followed. They made it to the grass on the side of the road when a second round of shots were fired.

  This time, the shots didn’t just fly over their heads. One of the men at the rear of the group let out a scream of pain, spun around, and collapsed in the road, clutching at his back.

  “Stop running,” a voice shouted from the woods from behind the group.

  The runners hesitated, not sure they wouldn’t be shot if they continued to run. To Donovan, they had the proverbial ‘deer in the headlights’ look, locked in a kind of spell by whomever had told them to stop running.

  Only two of them broke from the spell. A woman and man ran back for their fallen comrade and knelt over him.

  Mason knew immediately that he had to act. The shots and the voice had locked his people down again. He still hadn’t seen where the shots had come from, but he just raised his rifle and sprayed the trees on the right side of the road.

  Donovan saw the predicament, too. Half the group were hunkered down on the roadside while most of the other half crouched down on the slope that led to the woods, not knowing whether to keep running or not.

  Donovan practically screamed, “Get into the woods!”

  That spurred them back into action, and the group started in motion again.

  Donovan ran to help the couple with the wounded man. When he got there, he heard the man groaning and saw his eyes rolling back in his head. He also recognized the man. It was Terry. He had been one of the best hunters in his group. Now, he was lying on the side of the road, probably bleeding out.

  Donovan stepped past the three of them and dropped to one knee and aimed his rifle into the woods. He saw nothing. No movement. No more muzzle flashes. Without looking back, he said, “Get Terry off the road.”

  The couple grabbed Terry by the arms and began to drag him off the road. His body flopped behind them like a rag doll.

  “I said stop fucking running,” the voice in the woods bellowed with anger. This outburst was followed by a barrage of shots.

  Bullets flew past Donovan as he went to one knee and whipped up his rifle. This time, he caught the muzzle flashes, and he wasted no time returning fire, spraying bullets at the target.

  He turned out to be a much better shot than their attacker, and his bullets flew on a direct line toward whoever was shooting. Donovan saw a form duck behind a wide oak tree, and then he watched as chunks of bark splintered off the tree.

  A second later, shots originated from two locations off to the right of the tree he had targeted. Bullets skipped off the roadway, chipping up pieces of asphalt into Donovan’s body. They peppered him with some force, tearing at any exposed skin, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he was clipped with a bullet, so he threw himself face down on the road. A moment later, he was rolling to his left. Just as he left that spot, a stream of bullets zippered down the asphalt where he had been positioned.

  Shots rang out from Donovan’s right. When he glanced that way, Donovan saw Mason down on one knee in a firing pose, banging away at the the figures in the wood.

  All that came to his mind was that they were in it now. This was war.

  Chapter 8

  Counter Attack

  The growling engine noise reached a crescendo, and a vehicle burst from the woods about seventy-five yards down the road. The vehicle entered from a dirt road that they hadn’t been able to see. Del recognized it immediately as a dune buggy because his uncle had one down on the farm before the end of the world. Just for horsing around, he would say.

  Del pushed the memory away because he saw four men in the dune buggy, and three of them were heavily armed.

  “Del, we’ve got company,” Jo said,

  “I see it,” Del replied as he gripped the steering wheel a little harder.

  “What about the shots behind us?” Jones asked.

  “We need to find out what these assholes are about first,” Del said.

  “Donovan can handle that,” Jo said, and she hoped he could. She had no idea what they were up against.

  Two engines revved behind the truck, and when Del looked in his side view mirror, he saw one of the ATV’s turn in a tight arc and start to speed back down the road toward the trailer and the rest of the convoy. The other one did the same five seconds later.

  “It looks like we are on our own,” Del said.

  “We can handle ourselves,” Jo said.

  The dune buggy skidded to a stop about fifty-yards down the road, and the three passengers jumped out. They spread out, with two of them moving behind the dune buggy for cover, while the third scampered off into the woods to the left.

  “Del, keep an eye on the guy going into the woods,” Jo said.

  “On it,” Del said, locking his eyes on the runner, but he knew once the guy got into the trees, he’d be hard to keep track of.

  “We either have to move or get out of this truck,” Jones said while he leaned into the front seat. “We are sitting ducks here.”

  A new round of shots sounded from behind them. These shots were answered with another volley of bullets. Del couldn’t tell who was firing on whom.

  Jo turned around and looked directly into Jones’ eyes. A silent exchange passed between them quickly. They both knew he wasn’t in any shape to do any running, and the Benton sisters were long past their jogging years.

  Jo broke the stare and said, “Del, we’re getting out and
taking the fight to them.” She looked past the backseat passengers and yelled to those in the bed of the truck. “Clayton, you need to be our gunner. Ryan and Madison, you watch the right side of the woods for any attackers. If they come in force, get to the left side of the road and run for it. You other three, stay down for now.” She returned her attention to Jones. “Can you drive?”

  “Sure, I may be one-legged for now, but I can still drive,” he responded.

  Jo looked down the road in the gap between the overturned truck and car and saw the men standing by the dune buggy level their rifles in the direction of the truck. She knew there was no time to waste. “Let’s go,” she said.

  As soon as Del pushed the door open, the driver of the dune buggy shouted down the road at them. “Stay in the truck.”

  “Fuck that noise,” Del said, and he jumped out onto the road, leaving the door open.

  “Clayton, cover us,” Jo said as she opened her door.

  Clayton stood up and braced his arms on the roof of the cab as he took aim down the road at the dune buggy and the men behind it. He quickly saw a brief exchange between the men. There was no telling any of what they said. They were just too far away. All Clayton knew was that he had to cover Del and Jo.

  He kept his eyes locked on the men but said, “Ryan, Madison, don’t get out until I tell you. If the shooting starts, jump to the left. You others, just get down.”

  “Is there going to be a shootout?” Nora asked, a nervous quaver to her voice.

  “Let’s hope not,” Clayton said, “but it’s a strong possibility.”

  Ryan looked visibly nervous, but Madison seemed eerily calm. She caught Ryan’s anxiousness and put a hand on his arm. “We got this. Don’t you worry.”

  His eyes got large, but he felt some of the tension ease out of him a little.

  That changed quickly when the sound of shots barreled their way. One of the men behind the dune buggy had opened up on them. Bullets pinged off the overturned truck, and some flew past the truck. One plunked into the corner of the windshield, sending a series of cracks across it.

  Both of the Benton sisters let out shrieks.

  Clayton couldn’t let this attack go on unabated and pulled the trigger, letting loose a volley of shots. He saw quickly that he had a distinct advantage over these attackers. He had a higher vantage point to attack from and better visibility on their position. His bullets tore down the road, but he corrected his aim, and they slammed into the dune buggy.

  Jones reached out and pushed the Benton sisters down in the back seat. After he had them in a safe position, he grabbed the door handle and pushed the door open, thinking, ‘this is going to be fun,’ knowing his leg was going to give him hell.

  Jo quickly saw the men in the dune buggy had made a tactical error. They had placed a barrier between them and their objective. It was acting as the perfect shield.

  “I’ve lost the guy that went into the woods,” Del said.

  Jones shifted his weight and slid out of the truck. His good leg took all of his weight, but his bad one told him that it didn’t like it. It sent electric shocks of pain up his leg, into his hip, and straight up through the top of his head. He gritted his teeth and let out the slightest grunts of pain.

  “We can’t let that man get behind us,” Jo said. “Let’s go.”

  Del had the most direct route to the woods, so he took off, sprinting down the slope and toward the tree line. Bullets buzzed over his head, sounding like angry bees.

  He was into the trees two seconds later. Bullets ripped into the trees, tearing off branches and sending a rain of leaves down onto the forest floor.

  Time had sped up. Jo felt her heart hammering away in her chest, and sweat had broken out on her forehead. She slipped in under Jones and said, “Let me help you get around to the driver’s side.”

  “Ah, okay,” he said through gritted teeth. He was smart enough to know he needed help.

  As she toted him along, she took the slightest of glances up at Clayton as he pounded away at their attackers.

  She stopped for a moment at the back of the truck, looked into the bed, and said, “Madison, you be careful. Let us take care of it.”

  “I can handle myself,” Madison shot back.

  “I know you can,” Jo said, “but you are the last line of defense for the Benton Sisters and Sergeant Jones. They can’t move.” She glanced at Jones and asked, “Does that sound like a good game plan?”

  “A soldier couldn’t have made a better one,” Jones replied.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  “Never more ready,” he said.

  She and Jones hobbled around the side of the truck toward the driver’s seat as bullets flew over and by them. A shot slammed into one of the headlights, and it exploded, sending a spray of glass into the air.

  She got him by the door and asked, “Can you get yourself in?”

  “Yes, now go,” he said forcefully. He reached out, grabbed the side of the door with one of his powerful hands, and pulled himself up and into the driver’s seat. He’d like to say it only hurt a little, but it felt like someone was clutching his injured calf with a big, hot pair of pliers. He fell into the seat behind the steering wheel with a grunt and readied himself for whatever might come next.

  Clayton pulled back on ripping bullets off relentlessly and measured his shots, taking single and targeted shots every couple seconds. Resting in the back of his mind was the fact that their ammunition supply was limited.

  The driver of the dune buggy had ducked out of view, but the other two men were still blasting away but not to much effect. Most of their shots were blocked by the overturned truck, but a few made it through. One skipped off the top of the truck just inches away from Clayton, sending up a small spray of sparks, causing him to jerk back and to fall on his butt into the bed of the truck. He nearly landed on Noah, who put up two hands to brace Clayton’s fall.

  Clayton turned his head toward the wide-eyed boy and said, “Thanks.”

  “You okay?” Ryan asked in his raspy voice.

  “Fine as wine, smooth as silk,” Clayton said.

  Jo looked off into the woods, but by the time she did that, she only caught a glimpse of Del as he disappeared into the trees. She didn’t like that Del had gone off on his own and kicked herself for spending so much time helping Jones.

  She knew the only thing she could do was play catch-up, but hated the idea of the two of them wandering around in the woods, each without knowing where the other was. That was a recipe for getting one or both of them killed.

  For a few seconds, she considered not going, but if she hated the idea of the two of them separated in the woods, she detested the idea of letting Del go it alone.

  “Clayton, can you and the others handle this while I help Del in the woods?”

  “Sure,” Clayton said, “there’s nothing like fighting a little war. It’s what I live for.”

  Jo shook her head for a moment. “You got this?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “Now, go.”

  “Can you give me some cover fire?”

  “Sure enough.”

  Clayton didn’t waste too much time and tore off a spray of bullets, locking their attackers in place. She looked between the overturned truck and car down the road at the dune buggy and saw it was still there, but the men seem hunkered down. At least for the moment. It was time to make her move.

  She pushed off from the side of the truck and sprinted down the gentle slope toward the woods. All the while she ran, she felt tingles run over her body, anticipating a bullet from the men by the dune buggy, but none came.

  She entered the woods so quickly she nearly ran headlong into a tree but veered off at the last millisecond. All she could think was that it would be embarrassing to be taken out by a tree.

  Chapter 9

  Under Fire

  Donovan knew staying in one place for too long would most likely get him killed. So, he rolled for an extra ten feet to his right then popped
up to one knee and took immediate aim on the woods. He saw a muzzle flash off to his left, whipped his aim in that direction, and fired off three quick shots. His aim was reactive, so he wasn’t on target, but it was enough to cause the shooter to pull back.

  “Get the ATVs off the road,” Donovan shouted.

  The drivers didn’t need any coaxing, gunned their engines, and raced down off the road. One found a small dirt path into the woods and took it. The other one braked just short of the tree line and cut his engine, waiting for the next order.

  Mason continued to fire, but attackers from two different positions in the woods let loose on him. The shots came so close that Mason was forced to drop and roll, just as Donovan had done.

  Donovan re-directed his aim and fired on one of the attackers, and shots from that spot ceased. In the back of his mind, he wondered how many attackers were out there in the woods.

  He took the briefest of glances back to the side of the road and saw that most of his people had made it into the woods. The stragglers were the man and the woman who pulled Terry’s limp body along. They were tugging him down the slope.

  Donovan couldn’t tell if Terry was dead or alive. All he knew was that there would be hell to pay on the people who had attacked them. That is, if he survived.

  More shots came from the woods, deadly bullets whizzing through the air by him. He knew it was only a matter of time before he got hit.

  “You guys can pull back now,” a voice sounded from behind Donovan and Mason.

  That proclamation was followed by gunfire. When Donovan glanced back, he saw Casey standing on the slope leading to the woods. She was firing into the trees across from them. She would aim then fire, switch her target then fire again. He could tell that she was providing them cover.

  Mason fired off two more shots then backed up.

  Donovan followed Mason’s lead and fired several shots, directing them at the places where he saw muzzle flashes. He was fairly certain that he hadn’t hit anyone, but it was just enough to get their attackers to pull back and under cover.