It doesn’t matter to me. We are building our garmy, one that would eradicate these things with or without our government’s help. I plan on giving Butcher’s child a safe place to live if it is the last thing I do.
And that could very well be the case given where I plan on going. All I need to do is check out a few things first and then we’re going to have to hit the road…or in this case, hit the skies. I have a feeling that my choice of destination, while far, may be just the right move.
****
The plane went down in a cattle ranch somewhere inside the Texas border. It was just the two of them, Dallas and Colby, and when the wheels touched down, she knew they were screwed.
Once the dust cleared after their emergency landing, Colby said to Dallas, “It’s gonna take me a few hours to fix that oil leak, Dallas, among other things. We hit pretty hard.”
She nodded, looking out at the vast expanse of emptiness that is Texas. “Jesus, it’s barren out here. I always thought there was nothing but cows here. I was wrong. There’s just…nothing.”
“That’s to our advantage, eh?”
One of the slips she’d thrown out fluttered to the ground and she picked it up. “Let’s get going then.”
Colby grabbed his toolbox and got out of the cockpit. It was well over one hundred degrees out and the metal of the plane was hot to the touch. “Stay in the plane, Dallas, it’ll be cooler.”
“No chance. It may be a barren wasteland right now, but if one of those things is near—”
“Suit yourself.” Colby got out and started working on the engine while Dallas sat in the shade under the wing and chatted with him about Angola, the zombies, and their future, her ever present rifle laying across her lap.
After an hour, Dallas could see them on the distant horizon. At first, it looked like cattle, but then she saw that distinctive walk, that horror movie shuffle, and she knew.
They’d come.
Colby tracked her gaze.
“Company.” Dallas rose and shouldered her weapon. She counted fourteen on the horizon. “I’ve got this. Keep working. We’re going to have to get that bird in the air sooner rather than later.”
Colby put his head down and kept on working, sweat rolling off his nose, perspiration soaking through his shirt.
Dallas killed seven before pulling her machete and waiting. “I might need you to get in the cockpit for a few minutes while I lop off a few heads.”
“I’m not leaving you out there alone.”
“Get in the plane,” she ordered, this time a bit more sternly.
Colby started to get in, then stopped when he saw how many there were. “Uh, Dallas?”
“Go on!”
Colby shook his head. “Not without you.”
“Goddammit, Colby—” When Dallas whirled around, she saw what Colby was looking at.
On either side of the plane, approximately a hundred yards out came dozens of eaters kicking up a dust storm.
“Shit.”
“Get in with me,” Colby said, shoving his tools in the cockpit before hopping back in.
“Uh uh. You keep the doors locked. I’ll clear out as many as I can.”
Clearing them out proved to be much harder than either of them realized. Dallas killed as many as she could with her rifle as they walked past her toward the meal they wanted.
But there were far too many for her to take down with a machete without some rest…and water. They would be at the plane in a few more yards, trying to get to Colby…to fresh meat.
Stepping away from the plane, she started hacking away at the moaning horde, which brushed by her as if she didn’t exist before clamoring at the plane, pounding on it with their rotting fists. Dallas backed far away from the plane and started popping them in the head with the butt of her rifle. Their skulls crushed in with the same sound as a walnut in a nutcracker. She was about halfway through them when she saw Colby pounding on the window and pointing behind her.
When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw a pack of mangy dogs running directly toward her at full speed, closing in faster than she would be able to kill them. There had to be at least twenty dogs in that pack. Looking at the pack, to Colby, and back at the dogs, Dallas froze. Her safety lay in the cockpit, but opening the hatch would put Colby at risk from the horde. If she stayed outside, the dogs would get her.
Slinging her rifle behind her, Dallas jumped up on the wing just out of reach of their snapping jaws, causing her rifle to slide to her side. One mangy German Shepherd leapt at her, baring yellowed teeth. It bit the strap of her rifle and pulled it off her shoulder. As it slid down her arm, she let go of it and scrambled onto the wing, inches from the leaping, gaping jaws of the dogs.
“Shit!”
Colby looked at her through the side window, his eyes filled with panic and fear.
“It’s okay,” Dallas yelled above the moaning and barking. “Do not open that cockpit. We’re going to be fine.”
She didn’t know how it was going to be okay…or fine. All she had was her machete, and she couldn’t reach the dogs from the wing. She couldn’t reach the undead, either. In short, she was in deep shit. The dogs did not seem interested in eating the zombies, and she figured that was due to their flesh smelling so rotten and disgusting. She could smell the hideous stench of rot and death from her place on the wing.
Colby shook his head as he started for the latch.
“Oh no you don’t!” Dallas yelled. “Don’t you dare give up on me, Colby! I’ll figure a way out of this.”
The dogs circled and barked, some yapping more like coyotes than once domestic house pets. She knew the undead would pound at the windows until they turned to dust. They would circle the plane, limping, moaning, lusting after Colby’s flesh. Just how long the dogs would circle the wagons, she couldn’t say.
As she sat on the wing in the intense heat, she knew Roper would be sick with worry. This was supposed to be a simple flight and return. Now, it didn’t look like she’d make it to dusk—the sun made the metal heat up so much it was difficult to sit down. She would burn out here if she stayed on the hot metal much longer.
And it was only going to get hotter.
“God damn it.” Dallas knew she didn’t have much time left on the wing. Then what? What were her options? She couldn’t stay up where she was without frying like an egg in a cast iron skillet.
Colby rapped on the window. When she glanced over, he slid the tiny widow open a couple of inches. “You’ll die out there. I’m gonna open the hatch.”
“The hell you are,” she said, standing. “You give me a few minutes here, damn it.”
He shook his head. “The heat will kill you. Please.”
“No. I’ll think of something.” She looked down at her useless rifle lying out of reach.
The sun beat down on her back, the metal reflected the rays, and the moaning and barking got louder and louder. She was quickly running out of time and ideas.
Unlacing and pulling off her boot, Dallas put her foot down on the hot metal and immediately pulled it up. She would have to balance on the one foot if her plan was going to work.
She needed that rifle.
Tossing her boot as far as she could, the moment the pack took off for it, she jumped to the ground, grabbed her AK47, and sprayed bullets at the returning pack. She would never make it back up on the plane in time. She would have to kill them all now. One-by-one, the dogs yelped as they tasted her lead, until finally, a lone pit bull with an enormous head launched himself at her. Falling backwards but keeping the trigger depressed, Dallas just kept firing until the dog landed on her, twitched once, and then died on top of her.
Shoving the carcass off her, she gave Colby a thumbs up and then retrieved her boot before carefully dispatching the zombies one at a time with her machete. They were too close to the plane for her to shoot them, even up close, so she swung her machete over and over until the last zombie fell at her feet and Colby came busting out of the cockpit.
Dallas pushed the pit bull with the toe of her boot. “I think I burned my foot.”
“Butcher’ll fix you up when I get you back there.”
“Which will be when?”
“Give me another hour, hour and a half.”
“I’ll give you thirty minutes.” Something in the distance caught Dallas’ eye and she turned. On the horizon was some sort of a dust cloud four times bigger than the cloud the eaters had kicked up.
“Colby?”
He followed her gaze. “What is it?”
She shielded her eyes from the sun as she watched the something get closer. “I think they’re cars.”
“Cars? When’s the last time besides military we saw moving cars?”
“Long time. My guess is they’re coming after the plane.”
“Get your gun out ‘cause they can’t have it.”
Dallas checked her weapon and then shook her head. “I’m almost out.”
“Fuck.”
As the vehicles neared, Dallas counted five. Five moving vehicles coming toward them. “Shoot first?” Colby asked.
“No. Get in the plane. Stay down. Let them think I’m alone. Never give up the element of surprise unless you have to. When you think you need to come out, wait a little longer. If you have to come out, come out guns blazing.”
Nodding, Colby did as he was told.
Dallas raised her rifle. The cars slowed, and Dallas could see two were trucks, one was a Jeep, and one was a Honda, and the third an SUV of some sort. They came to a stop and the door to the Jeep opened.
“Keep your hands up in the air,” Dallas ordered. She was slightly surprised they hadn’t started shooting at her.
A large gentleman stepped out and put his hands in the air in surrender. “Ma’am, are you the one dropping these slips?” The man asked, raising his hands high above his head. “‘Cause we saw the flyers first, then watched your plane go down. Thought you might need some help.”
Dallas lowered her rifle a little.
“We just came to see if you need a hand, but clearly,” he jutted his chin toward all the carcasses, “you don’t really require any.”
“We have an oil leak,” she said by way of explanation. “It was an emergency landing.”
“Then maybe we can help. We came to see if you were okay and if you needed any assistance. We don’t want your plane.”
“Good, because you can’t have it.”
The very handsome, well-built young man chuckled as he nodded to his group. One-by-one, a total of twenty men exited the vehicles, all with their hands in the air. They could have been Chippendale dancers, they were that good looking. They all had shoulder-length hair, rows of white teeth, and very fit bodies. Some had on tank tops, others were bare-chested and sported finely tuned abs.
Not Chippendales, but close.
Dallas called for Colby, who rose from the cockpit. “Oh.” He chuckled. “They really don’t want our plane.”
Dallas shrugged. “Apparently not.”
“No ma’am, we don’t. We’re from Vegas,” the guy said. He stood slightly over six feet with blond JFK hair and blue eyes like tractor beams. A cleft chin and two deep dimples rounded out a soft face. “Dancers.”
“How did twenty Vegas dancers make it this long?” Dallas asked.
He laughed. “Twenty queens can be pretty damned resourceful—”
“Dallas,” she replied, shaking his hand. “He’s Colby.”
He nodded his “hey” to Colby, who did the same. “Tucker here. Well, we stayed in Vegas for as long as we could. There was a ton of food at first, and the lights mesmerized those things. It was safe until everything went to shit.”
“How long have you been on the road?”
“A month. We were headed to the military safe zone, but when we saw your flyers, we decided that was probably a better bet for a bunch of fudge packers.”
A laugh like a donkey braying leapt from Dallas’s mouth.
“The flyer says gays are safe. Is that why they don’t attack us?”
Dallas nodded and explained.
When she finished, he shook his head. “Well isn’t that harsh justice? We finally caught a break.”
“It’s more than catching a break, Tucker. I am creating a gay army to eradicate these things once and for all. You and your guys are more than welcome to come to Angola, but we need fighters…umm…well…”
Waving his guys over, he said, “Show her.”
Fifteen tank tops were raised to show finely tuned sets of six-pack abs. Biceps bulged, pecs hardened, it was a veritable fitness show.
“We haven’t exactly been sitting around eating bon bons.”
She grinned. “I can see that. Well, then. Once we get the plane fixed, I can meet you in Angola.”
“There is only one thing, ma’am. The reason we took to the road is one of our guys is really sick. Not virus sick, internally sick.”
“Show me.” Dallas joined him.
Tucker and another helped a very gray-faced gay man out of the Jeep. Dallas didn’t need him to come any closer to know there was something really wrong with him.
“Oh crap. We’re using valuable time here,” she said to Tucker. “Have your guys load him into the plane. Colby will fix the leak and we’ll be on our way.”
Tucker looked dubious. “You’re just going to take him? I…I’m not sure we’re okay with that.”
“We have decent medical facilities and I think he needs surgery.” Walking up to him, Dallas pressed on his abdomen and he cried out. “I’m thinking spleen. I used to be a firefighter. He needs help ASAP, so if you trust me, let me take him. I promise he’s in good hands, and I think we can fix him right up. You keep him and he’ll die on the road.”
The guys took a vote and it was decided that they would put the sick one in the plane and head on for Angola, but not before they assisted Colby in getting oil back into the plane and getting it back in the air.
Less than an hour later, Dallas, Colby, and Gregory headed back to Angola—to the comfort of a prison they now called home.
****
The new gays were called Chips because they looked so much like Chippendales. They turned out to be a blessing on so many levels. Tucker and his partner, Vance, owned one of the new casinos in Vegas and they were the ones who got their guys through the city safely when all hell was breaking loose. The Chips took up the crossbow and bow like naturals, and their upper body strength was something to marvel at.
And there were plenty of other gays doing the marveling.
Dallas admired them so much she got them to agree to come to the next prison to get it up and running.
Three days after they came to Angola, Tucker asked to speak with Dallas, Roper, and Einstein.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“Your medical team saved Gregory from dying from that ruptured spleen, and that means a hell of a lot to me and the guys.”
“It’s what we do here, Tucker. No need to thank us.”
He shook his head, concern drawn on his face. “We owe you our loyalty, so please hear what I’m about to tell you as that and not some fag snitching some guys out.”
Dallas and Roper exchanged glances. “Okay.”
“That weird duck, Benjamin, came to Kyle this morning talking about a hostile takeover. Guess he thought a bunch of fairies would roll over easily. He guessed wrong. We’re gay, not lame. We’d never toss our fate in with that creepster peepster.”
Dallas slowly closed her eyes.
“He was making a big play for us, telling us all sorts of shit about being his own little army.” Tucker shuddered. “The dude creeps me out.”
Roper was already moving toward the door.
“Roper, wait.”
“Oh hell no, Dallas, that asshole—”
“I mean it. Wait. I don’t want a knee jerk reaction. Let’s think this through.”
“I’ll think it th
rough after I kick his ass.”
Dallas held Roper’s arm. “No, you won’t. We need to talk this over with Butcher and Luke before we jump the gun and cause such a division among us.” To Tucker she said, “I appreciate you coming to me with this. I really do. Your loyalty means a great deal to me. To us.”
He blushed. “It’s not entirely altruistic, Dallas. A group of our friends was going to meet us in Little Rock, and a bunch of us would like to go see if they…if they made it. ”
Dallas smiled. She really liked him. “Tell you what. Let me handle this thing with Benjamin, and then we can discuss it. You do know you’re free to go, right? You don’t have to ask.”
“I know, but the fellas really like it here. It’s safe—comfortable—and we can still perform. We never thought we’d have the chance to do that again, so that’s quite a bonus. Really.”
Dallas thanked him for his confidence and loyalty before calling a meeting.
They began meeting more and more, and that was when everyone realized how close they were to the time when Dallas would be leaving. She was making sure everything was set up and ready to go before pulling out, and though Roper and Butcher had tried on several occasions to get her to tell where she was thinking of going, she always put them off.
“I say we give him the boot,” Roper snapped. “We don’t need this kind of shit.”
“We’re not doing any of that,” Dallas replied, “because people have to feel free to disagree. It’s not a dictatorship.”
“No, but Roper’s right. It’s not healthy to have someone always shaking the leadership up. Some lead. Some follow. He wants to lead…even covets your power.”
“The fact that he’s gone after the newbies is what bothers me,” Einstein added. “He clearly has a game plan. I say we take all the subterfuge out of the equation and call him out on it.”
Dallas nodded. “Agreed. Maybe we could offer to help him on his way if he is so unhappy with my leadership, but he needs to know we know.” Dallas cast a concerned eye over to an uncharacteristically quiet Roper. “Babe?”
“Sure. Bring him in on that. It worked so well the first time.”
Man Eaters (Book 2): The Horde Page 27