“So, it shouldn’t be a problem to remove it?” Jeff asked.
“Looks like this thing is motorized,” he replied, “so let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet.” Ricky popped into the guard booth to look for the switch, but the controls were badly damaged. “Well shit, looks like someone went all Babe Ruth on the control panel there,” he said as he emerged. “Busted it up good.”
Jeff shrugged. “So, plan B?”
“Yeah, the gate won’t be a problem for the winch on my truck.” Ricky nodded. “Although we probably wanna do that when we ready to get the hell outta here.”
The skinhead furrowed his brow.“Why?”
“Well, when that big bitch comes down, it’s gonna make a hell of a racket,” his companion explained. “From the looks of it this is the only way in or out, so if we attract unwanted attention before we’re ready to go…”
“We’ll be fucking ourselves,” Jeff finished. “Yeah, great.” He looked around, and noticed a small parking lot to the right, against the wall. “Why don’t you park your truck over there, and we’ll hop the fence and just borrow someone’s ladder when we’re ready to hop back.”
“Sounds like a plan, bubba,” Ricky agreed.
After moving the truck, Jeff climbed up first, peering down the other side and dropping in an awkward manner. He jumped back up, hoping the others hadn’t seen his bad landing, and scanned the immediate area for zombies or people. There were none, so he waved for Rufus to follow him.
Once everyone had landed, the quartet moved quietly into the backyard of the first house. The yards were mostly open in the ritzy neighborhood, with no fencing to separate them. Though the houses were so close together it would have been hard to have fencing as it was. They wandered under the mid-sized trees in the first yard and up onto the back porch.
Jeff jiggled the handle of the patio door. “No luck, we’ll have to break it,” he said, and as if on cue, a zombie slammed into the glass from the inside. The skinhead tumbled backwards in shock, drawing his handgun at the same time. The zombie thrashed against the glass but it didn’t budge or crack. “Thank christ these rich folk sprung for the safety stuff,” he breathed.
“You alright?” Rufus asked, helping his companion to his feet.
“Yeah, let’s just put this house on the maybe list,” Jeff replied.
Rufus chuckled. “Plenty of houses left to hit,” he assured him.
The group moved towards the next house just as shot rang through the air, snapping into the tree next to Ricky. He shoved Mary behind it, Jeff and Rufus taking cover at the edge of the patio. The older man aimed over the top, the younger around the bottom, they made out a middle-aged man in jeans and a white tee standing on his back porch with a shotgun.
“That’s far enough, assholes!” the guy bellowed.
“Yo, chill the fuck out, man!” Jeff cried. “We ain’t gonna hurt you!
“Nah, you just want my shit right?” he called back. “Well you can’t have it!” He fired off another shot, blowing off the wooden railing six feet away from where they were crouched.
“Man, this guy is a shitty fucking shot,” Rufus said quietly. “Pretty sure I could walk into the middle of the yard and he’d still miss.”
“Let’s not tempt fate, shall we?” Jeff suggested.
Rufus pouted. “Eh, you’re no fun.”
Another shot rang out, but didn’t appear to hit anything.
Jeff glanced over at Ricky and Mary, who were perfectly safe behind their tree. “Look man, we don’t want your shit,” he called gently. “We won’t even come into your house, I swear. You won’t even know we’re here!”
“You don’t get it, this entire neighborhood is mine!” the guy yelled. “I took it. When the mayor rounded up everybody to take them to the old church downtown, I said he could go fuck himself. When he persisted, I shot a few of them. Finally, they realized I meant business and left me alone.
“And guess what, I was fucking right! I don’t know what went down at the church, but I’m guessing by the smoke it wasn’t good. Now why don’t you do yourself a favor and fuck off before I have to shoot y’all too.” His next shot hit the ground a few feet away from Rick and Mary.
“Can I shoot this motherfucker yet?” Rufus raised an eyebrow.
“You have a shot from this angle?” Jeff asked.
The older man inclined his head to the tree. “I like Ricky’s vantage point better.”
“Okay,” the skinhead gave in, “I’ll lay down some covering fire and-” He was cut off by the sound of shattering glass and the unmistakable screech of zombies.
A couple of houses up, a small pack of zombies poured out of the back patio door that had finally given way under their onslaught. They raced towards the standoff, undeterred by the neighbor’s panicked shots that missed them entirely. He tried to dive back inside but they got there first, tackling him into his house. Another shotgun blast pinged around his kitchen as Jeff waved to Ricky and Mary.
“Get across the street!” he screamed, and the quartet tore between two houses, Rufus pulling up the rear. When they got to the other side, he whipped around to fire a few rounds back at their pursuers, hitting the lead zombie in the head to trip up the two behind it.
“It’s locked!” Ricky cried from the front door of the first house, an elegant wooden number with a glass panel in the middle.
“Move,” Jeff instructed, and when his companion did so, he fired his assault rifle, shattering it. “Everybody in!” he cried, and they all hopped through the hole. “Rufus, clear the house, Ricky, help me with this table.”
They grabbed the dining room table, flipping it on its side, and slammed it against the hole in the door. Mary sat on the ground with her back to it, wedging herself up against it to keep it from moving.
She drew her handgun to keep watch as Rufus cleared the house. The two pursuing zombies slammed into the waist-high barrier, squealing, and Jeff punched his rifle over Mary’s head, pushing back one of the attackers. Ricky drew his handgun, but Jeff shook his head.
“Save your bullets,” he directed, “use your knife.”
Ricky nodded, and dispatched the two zombies each with a stab to the head. They crumpled onto the front steps.
Meanwhile, Rufus set his handgun on the kitchen counter and picked up a thick wooden cutting board, smacking a wayward zombie in the face with it. It staggered and he knocked it over, bashing the corner of the board into its forehead repeatedly. Once it stopped moving, he finished his sweep, coming back around to the front door.
“Outside secure?” he asked.
“For the moment,” Jeff replied. “And the house?”
“Ground floor is cleared,” the older man said. “I’ll take the second floor.”
Jeff nodded as Rufus moved up the staircase. “Alright, Mary, if you want to go inspect the pantry and medicine cabinets, your husband and I are gonna see if we can attract any more zombies to our little trap here,” he instructed.
“Sure thing,” Mary agreed. “Can I bring you boys anything from the kitchen?”
Jeff nodded. “Could use some water.”
“And a towel,” Ricky piped up. “That last dead fucker leaked all over me.”
His wife nodded. “Coming right up.”
“You good for another assault?” Jeff asked his partner.
Ricky took a deep breath. “Yeah, let’s get it over with.”
Jeff put two finger in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. “Well, once those zombies across the street are finished with lunch, hopefully that will get their attention.”
“If not, then they must be deaf, ‘cause holy fuck that was loud.” His companion winced.
“Sorry about that.” The skinhead laughed. “I’ll warn you next time.”
“That would be appreciated,” Ricky confirmed.
Mary reappeared with bottled water and a towel. “Here you go, boys,” she said.
“Thanks, babe.” Her husband smiled at her and accepted t
he towel.
Jeff grinned. “Thanks, Mary.”
“Took a quick peek into the pantry, and it looks like it’s loaded,” she told them. “Like Costco loaded.”
“Alright, maybe we won’t starve to death after all,” Jeff said. “Hey Ricky, can you keep watch for a minute? I’m gonna call Dan.”
“Have at it, bubba,” his companion replied.
Jeff nodded in thanks and hit his earpiece.
“Jeff, what’s the story?” Dan asked immediately.
“Well it’s actually good news for once,” the skinhead replied. “We got into Colonial Court and the first house has a lot of goods.”
“That’s great news,” the Principal gushed. “I’ll let the boys know.”
“We ain’t gonna need them for a while though,” Jeff cut in. “Some of the houses have zombies in them, so it’s gonna take us a while to get everything secured.”
Dan pursed his lips. “How long you think?”
“Let’s see, there looks to be fourteen houses in here,” Jeff guesstimated. “Maybe four hours for us to work our way through? It’ll go faster once we get the straggler zombies taken out. Speaking of which, hang on a sec.” He leaned out the door, let out another loud whistle, attracting the attention of one of the zombies from across the street. “Sorry, had to stay on top of it.”
“Ow, Bubba,” Ricky muttered, poking at his ear.
“No worries,” Dan replied. “Do what you gotta do and touch base with me in a couple of hours for an update.”
Jeff nodded. “Ten four.” He clicked the earpiece and jabbed forward with his rifle to stop the latest zombie, just like last time. Ricky stabbed it in the head just as Rufus descended the stairs.
“Upstairs is clear,” the older man declared.
“Good,” Jeff commended, clapping his friend on the back. “Mary is taking care of the pantry, so if you wouldn’t mind checking the bathrooms for medication, that’d be great.”
“You got it,” Rufus agreed. “I’ll check the bedrooms for weapons and ammo too.”
The skinhead nodded. “Good call.”
“Hey guys,” Ricky piped up. “We may have a problem.”
The two men turned to the door, following Ricky’s finger at the sight of smoke seeming from the windows of the house across the street.
“Fuck, is that smoke?” Rufus blurted.
Ricky nodded solemnly. “Looks to be.”
“That dumbass must have started a fire with his final shotgun blast,” Rufus grunted.
Jeff shrugged. “Well, there’s not a whole lot we can do about it except hope it doesn’t attract a lot of attention.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Sparks touched her earpiece as she hit the walking trail about fifteen yards off the highway.
“Hey Sparks, made it to the militia compound yet?” Dan asked.
“Not quite,” she replied. “According to the GPS thing I have about a mile to go before I hit the turnoff. Figured this would be a good time to touch base.”
“I’m glad you did, as I talked to the other group about an hour ago,” the Principal said. “Happy to report I have promising news.”
“Did they secure the grocery store?” she asked hopefully.
“Unfortunately it went up in flames, however they made it to a rich gated community,” he replied. “The homeowners apparently loved Costco because the pantries are well stocked.”
“That’s great, Dan,” Sparks said with a smile. “Hopefully there will be enough there for the journey.”
“We have our fingers crossed,” he assured her.
The redhead stretched her arms above her head as she hiked. “How’s morale at the farm?”
“Everybody is scared, obviously, but people are holding up pretty well,” he told her. “Some of the older folks are keeping the young children entertained with stories, and a few of the older kids are throwing a football around. If I took a picture of it you’d swear it was someone’s family cookout.” He chuckled, and paused, but there was only quiet on the other end. “You okay, Sparks?”
“Yeah, just daydreaming about better days,” she admitted. “I mean a week ago I was fighting against an old boys network to get onto the SWAT team and my biggest worry outside of my work was getting prepared for my next wrestling match to defend my title.”
“Did you ever dream of making it to the show?” he asked.
“I was never at that level,” she told him. “I mean don’t get my wrong, I could hold my own in a ring, but there were so many others out there that were bigger, faster, and stronger. And to be frank, I was happy where I was. Nothing wrong with being a big fish in a little pond.”
Dan chuckled. “I can relate, believe it or not.”
“Were you a wrestler too?” the redhead asked, shocked.
“Baseball player,” he said. “Man, I chased that dream hard too, but just couldn’t quite make it to the show. Spent about six years in a triple-A before calling it a career.”
“Six years isn’t that long, especially in baseball,” she mused. “Why did you throw in the towel?”
“Combination of things, really,” he said with a shrug. “I played third base and the big league team traded for an all-star third baseman that was two years younger than me, which didn’t exactly bode well for my chances of moving up. When I asked for a trade they said no. Couple that with the fact I had gotten married the year before and I decided to call it a day. There were more important things going on in my life other than baseball.”
“I can respect that.” Sparks nodded. “And, please forgive me if this is insensitive, but were you still married when all this went down?”
“You’re good,” Dan assured her. “No, my wife Katie passed away in a car accident late last year. One second she was here, and then next, just, gone. I mean I would have loved to have had the last year with her, but she had A-blood type and I think that would have been much worse than what happened.”
“I’m sorry Dan,” the officer replied sincerely, “didn’t mean to bring down the conversation. I mean any more than it already was since we were talking about failed dreams.”
He chuckled. “As crazy as it sounds, it’s nice to talk about the old world.”
“The old world?” She laughed too. “It’s barely been a week, not quite ready to be referring to it as the old world.”
“Fair enough,” he conceded. “Well, anytime you want to shoot the breeze about the good ole days, I’m around.”
“Thanks Dan.” She reached the end of the path, where it forked into two. “And with that, I need to jump off com for a bit,” she said regretfully. “I’ve reached the woods at the compound.”
“Be safe, and give me an update as soon as you have one,” he instructed.
Sparks nodded. “You got it.” She clicked off the earpiece and readied her assault rifle.
The officer of the apocalypse crept up to the road, taking a good long look in either direction to make sure the coast was clear. Once she was confident that nobody was around, she sprinted across the street and into the woods, immediately going back into a combat walk with her gun up in a crouched position.
She wove her way through eighty yards of trees before spotting the compound. From where she was, she couldn’t see much except that the front gate was open.
She shimmied up a tree not far from her vantage tree the last time she’d been there, and braced herself in a V branch. She pulled out her binoculars and maxed out their range, scanning the compound. She didn’t see any movement as she scrutinized the area, and slid back down to ground level.
She touched her earpiece as she approached the gate. “I’m at the compound and it appears to be deserted,” she told him. “I want you to stay on com while I go through.”
“Understood,” he replied.
Sparks swept the courtyard, a couple dozen corpses littering the ground. None were standing, though a few were twitching. She wondered vaguely if the zombies didn’t leave enough of the militia members that
they could be mobile upon reanimation.
“Looks clear, heading in,” she reported, and headed to the storage building first. She poked her head through the window that Rufus had shattered shooting at Elijah, noting a pile of zombie bodies piled up in front of the door to bar it shut. “Looks like Rufus was able to shoot Elijah, but it doesn’t appear as though it was a kill shot.”
“How do you know?” Dan asked.
She scanned the small space. “Not enough blood.”
“If he’s still alive, you should get out of there,” he warned.
“Not until I check the back storage buildings,” she countered.
She headed across the courtyard, careful to keep her distance from the corpses lying about just in case they were animated enough to bite her ankles. A zombie moaned from the storage buildings ahead of her, and she raised her weapon. It was in civilian clothing, so not a militia member, and she waited for it to sprint towards her.
“That’s odd,” she commented when it didn’t.
Dan made a noise of curiosity. “What is it?”
“There’s a zombie, but it’s not running,” she explained. “It’s like she wants to, but just can’t.”
“Well don’t admire it too long before putting it down,” he advised, and she slung her rifle back over her shoulder. She was about to draw her knife but the glint of a machete caught her eye. It was strapped to the leg of a fallen militia member and she reached down and snatched up the severed leg, drawing the machete and tossing the leg in one fluid motion.
The zombie staggered as the leg hit it, and Sparks shoved the blade directly through its face. It twitched as dark blood poured from the wound, and the zombie collapsed as she jerked the machete free, shaking off the excess blood as she moved towards the building.
“Approaching the storage building now,” she said, reaching for the doorknob.
“Wait!” Dan cried suddenly.
Sparks jerked back, heart pounding. “Holy hell man, don’t do that,” she said.
“It might be a trap,” he explained.
She furrowed her brow. “A trap.”
“You said these guys had a zombie pen,” he said. “They’d have to know someone might come looking for their supplies.”
Dead Texas (Book 3): Lonesome Road Page 3