Leon aimed carefully, and took a deep breath, his nerves relaxing and hand steady. As the grappling duo moved so that one’s back was to him, he pulled the trigger. The bullet went through both of them, dropping both bodies to the ground, as the third man quickly fumbled with his radio, screaming frantically into it.
Once upon a time, Leon had been the fastest shot in his battalion, but years behind a desk after his years of service had slowed him a little bit. He put a bullet in the third man’s forehead, but not before it seemed he’d been able to get a partial message to whomever was on the other side of that radio.
“Motherfucker,” he muttered to himself, and sat back on his heels. He took a beat to begrudge his waning skills and the fact he was about to lose his hideout, and then snapped to action.
Leon leapt to his feet and ran to the bedroom to grab his two duffel bags. He threw them over his shoulder and peered out the window once again. He didn’t hear any more vehicles approaching. He looked out the window on the other side of the trailer, noting a row of three houses closer to together about forty yards across the dusty field.
He burst out the front door, tearing around the back of the trailer just as the roar of approaching engines grew in a crescendo. He peeked back around the corner to see three vehicles cresting the horizon, and shook his head, taking off at a sprint for the houses.
He made a snap decision upon reaching them to head into the center house, figuring they’d start their search on either the left or the right side. The knob turned easily, miraculously unlocked, and he dove in, slamming it behind him. There was a moan and a shuffle as a zombie staggered in from the living room.
Leon jumped past it, giving it a shove in the back and heading down the hallway into the next room, closing the door behind him. Hopefully they’ll see that thing and call this place clear, he thought as he took in the bedroom. Hopefully.
He dropped his duffel bags in the closet and knelt down in the corner, gripping his rifle tightly. He strained his ears to hear, and luckily with the thin walls he was able to hear some voices outside. They spoke in rapid Spanish, and though he was a bit rusty he could pick up most of what they were saying to each other.
“Go check that house out,” one demanded.
A scoff. “Why should I do it? I went first on the last one?”
“Yeah, well, I’m driving,” the first guy snapped. “So unless you want to walk back…”
The response was mumbled so low that Leon couldn’t make it out, but he assumed it was likely something derogatory. There was a loud crack as somebody kicked the door in, and then a thud and a laugh.
“Hey, I found you a friend, man!” somebody said, and then there was a gunshot. Leon assumed they’d found his dead companion.
“Quit fucking around and search the place,” the bossy one snapped.
“Nobody’s in here,” the other guy whined. “Or, what, you think the zombie had a roommate?”
The sound of the footsteps retreating made the hiding man let out a soft sigh of relief, though he knew better than to count his chickens before they hatched.
“Hey, that was awfully quick,” another voice said from outside, sounding skeptical.
“Fucking zombie in the living room, man,” someone protested.
“That wasn’t my question,” the other voice grew in volume and sternness.
“Hey, if you think someone was shacking up with a ghoul, then by all means, have a look,” the other guy replied. “We’re moving on to the next house.”
“Fucking slack asses!” the stern one barked. “I guess I have to do your job for you!”
“Fuck,” Leon muttered, swallowing hard. The one time these guys are thorough.
His muscles tensed up again at the sound of footsteps inside the house. There was a bit more chatter but it seemed more slang than anything, he couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. The last word, however, was bedroom, and he crept behind the door, drawing his knife.
The door knob turned and he raised his weapon, waiting as the barrel of an AK-47 nosed its way through the crack in the door. It creaked as it opened, and a man entered slowly. Just as he was about to turn his head, Leon dove for him, batting his gun down and pressing the knife to his throat.
They grappled a little, and he noted the fear in the guy’s eyes as he slammed him back against the dresser, knick-knacks clattering to the floor. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-five, and Leon fought the churning in his guts at the thought of harming a kid less than half his age.
As another cartel member approached from the hallway, the older man spun his prisoner around and curled his knife arm around his throat, using him as a human shield.
“Put it down or I will gut him like a fucking fish,” Leon warned.
The approaching cartel member lowered his weapon immediately, putting up a tentative hand to try to defuse the situation. “Calm down, friend,” he said in heavily accented english.
“I’m not your fucking friend,” Leon growled, “and if you take one more step then I start slicing.” He dug the blade in a little harder, a bead of blood forming on the top.
“Hey, you guys okay in there?” somebody yelled from outside.
“Yeah, dumbass here slipped and fell when he saw a dead body,” the kid called back, voice surprisingly steady. “Guess I should be thankful he didn’t shit himself again!”
The guy outside laughed. “Okay, well this house was clear so we’re going to move on up the road.”
“Sounds good!” the prisoner replied. “I’m going to piss and then we’ll be on our way.”
“Take your time,” his comrade yelled back, “whoever shot our boys is probably long gone by now.”
After a few tense moments, when they were sure the other men were out of earshot, Leon pursed his lips at the cartel member in the hallway. He slung his rifle over his back, putting both of his hands up.
The older man lowered the knife and shoved his prisoner away from him. “Go on, kid,” he said.
“It’s not too bad,” the guy murmured in Spanish as he looked at the scratch on the younger man’s neck. “Go get cleaned up in the kitchen, we’re going to have to go soon.”
As he headed off, Leon leaned against the dresser, crossing his arms as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “Okay, you’ve piqued my interest,” he said. “Why didn’t you rat me out to your boys?”
“Because it takes skill, not to mention cantaloupe sized cojones, to take down three of our men,” the cartel member replied with a shrug.
Leon furrowed his brow. “Yeah, well, they interrupted my breakfast.”
“Understandable.”
“Still doesn’t explain why you didn’t rat me out,” the older man prompted.
His opponent shifted his weight. “Because I have a use for you.”
“Sorry to burst your bubble, but I don’t do work for the cartel,” Leon spat, wrinkling his nose.
“There are some of us who don’t like what’s being done to civilians in El Paso,” the man insisted. “We’ve set up a safe haven for them. A man of your particular skills could be very useful to them.”
Leon cocked his head, studying him for a moment. “I’m really thankful you never sat across from me at a poker table,” he finally said, “because I can’t get a read on you.”
“I just lied to protect you,” the man replied easily. “If I had gotten caught, they would have made an example out of me. That alone should be enough to convince you.”
Leon pursed his lips. “Perhaps.”
“Well, consider the alternative,” the man said. “Where else are you going to go? The closer you get to town, the more of us that are roaming around, so you can’t risk heading back in that direction. You have one road to the east, but the next bit of civilization is about seventy miles away. If the elements don’t get you, then the wildlife will.”
Leon sighed. “So, what do you propose?”
“You do not leave this room and you don’t make a sound until we
are gone,” the man instructed. “In a couple of hours, my man Francisco will be by to pick you up. Just be ready to move when he gets here.” There was a moment of silence, and then recognition, and the man turned to leave.
“Hey,” Leon said quietly, “you never told me your name.”
“No, I didn’t,” the cartel member replied. “The fewer people who know who we are, the safer we stay. Good luck, friend.” With that, he headed to the front door to meet up with the younger man, wiping the last of the blood from his neck. He and Leon nodded to each other, before the older man closed the bedroom door once again.
He sat down on the floor, out of sight of the windows, and sighed heavily. He looked at his scuffed watch and couldn’t help but smile.
“Man, not even eight in the morning, and already a shit-filled day.”
CHAPTER TWO
Leon rolled a pen across his fingers and back, checking his watch again. It had been about two hours, and he’d been able to fall into a zen-like trance while spinning the pen around his fingers a multitude of ways. He hadn’t wanted to move from beneath the window in case of potential bad company, but it had remained quiet.
At the rumble of a single engine, he got up onto his knees and peeked through the blinds as an SUV approached the house. Leon grabbed his duffel bags and stashed them next to the front door, rifle at the ready as the vehicle came to a stop out front. He cracked the door, and watched carefully as the driver’s side window rolled down.
The man behind the wheel looked to be in his mid-thirties, with chocolate hair and aviator sunglasses.
“Well, you coming or what?” he asked.
Leon opened the door a little wider. “You Francisco?”
“Who the fuck else would I be?” the man shot back.
Leon rolled his eyes. “Well, the first three who showed up today sure as hell weren’t Francisco.”
“And that’s why I’m here.” Francisco put a hand to his chest. “Now, do you want a ride to safety, or are you gonna start huffing it up the road?”
The older man shrugged, picked up his bags, and flung open the door, jogging down the front steps to the vehicle. He opened the hatchback and tossed his bags in before skirting the SUV to get into the passenger’s seat.
He raised an eyebrow as he turned sideways, surveying the three people sitting in the backseat. There was a middle-aged couple clutching each other on one side, eyes wide with terror, and next to them a twenty-something petite but athletic woman with jet black hair.
“Folks,” Leon greeted them with a tip of his hat, “how we doing?”
Francisco rolled his eyes and punched the gas, starting the next leg of their journey.
“Oh, we’re doing just peachy,” the young woman piped up, sarcasm dripping from her tongue. “Let’s see, my best friend was shot in the street two days ago because he accidentally bumped into some cartel thug. My roommate vanished yesterday and I can only imagine what horrors she’s dealing with. And now I’m fleeing the city with two people so fucked up they can’t even speak and some over the hill dude in bloody army fatigues. Of course none of that even includes the whole dead rising to feast on the living bullshit.”
Leon blinked at her and then nodded casually. “Well, you gotta look on the bright side of things. At least it ain’t rainin’.”
“Yes, mister military man, we are truly a blessed group of people.” She rolled her eyes.
He shrugged. “We are more blessed than you know, assuming you believe in that stuff.”
“Oh yeah?” She crossed her arms. “How so?”
He cocked his head. “Well for starters, we’ve outlived at least ninety percent of our fellow countrymen.”
“Ninety percent?” Her jaw dropped, and there was a moment where it seemed nobody in the car could even breathe. “You can’t possibly know that.”
Leon pinched the fabric of his shirt and tugged it a few times. “The military garb isn’t just for attracting the ladies,” he said. “I’m military intelligence. At least, I was before this shitshow hit.”
“So…” She cleared her throat, voice thick. “It’s like this everywhere?”
“Worse in a lot of places,” he replied. “Some of the major cities are on the verge of being completely wiped out. Even with our southern neighbors paying us an unwelcome visit, we’re still ahead of the game.”
“I thought you military intelligence guys were a bunch of geeks behind computer screens,” Francisco cut in as he turned a corner. “How the hell did you take out three of my guys?”
“I wasn’t always in intelligence,” Leon explained, shaking his head. “Started my career as a sniper. Ran several dozen missions in various theaters over the years. Decided to make the career change after some dumbass nearly got me killed because they sucked at their job. I wanted to do my part to make sure the next kid who filled my boots didn’t have to die due to negligence.”
The young woman in the back leaned forward. “That was noble of you.” She seemed sincere, her sarcasm gone.
“Eh, don’t chalk it up to nobility. My black ass loves me some air conditioning, which was in very short supply out in the field.” Leon chuckled and turned to the driver. “So, you gonna tell us where we headed?”
Francisco nodded. “It’s a little town called Fabens, about thirty miles southeast from town.”
“What is this place, anyway?” the young woman asked, leaning forward.
“It’s a refugee camp of sorts that was hastily set up by Rodriguez, the second in command of the Rivas Cartel,” Francisco explained. “Some of us, like myself, have been rescuing people who would be eliminated or worse, and getting them to a place where they have a chance at survival.”
“How many have you gotten out?” she pressed.
He shook his head. “Not nearly as many as I would like.”
“And the cartel just lets ‘em be?” Leon raised an eyebrow.
Francisco barked a bitter laugh. “The cartel doesn’t know about them yet. Rodriguez is the one in charge of exploring the region, so he’s been steering everyone to the north and east. But it’s only a matter of time before he has no choice but to send people south.”
“Well, nothing like a little impending doom to get the morning rolling,” Leon said with a sigh. “I’m Leon, by the way,” he said, turning again to the passengers in the back.
“Clara,” the young woman replied, and shook his hand. She motioned to her companions. “No idea what their names are, they don’t say anything.”
Francisco made a hard left turn off of the main road, bumbling down a dirt path leading to the east. “Hang on tight, we’re taking the long way around.”
CHAPTER THREE
Detective Rogers walked down the main road leading into Fabens, enjoying the morning sun bathing everything in a warm glow. It made even the dusty ground look ethereal, beautiful, pre-apocalypse.
He reached up and made sure all of the edges of the bandage on the side of his head were secure. The wound where his ear had been was taking its sweet time to heal, and getting dust all up in there wouldn’t help anything along. He sighed and smoothed back his thinning black hair. For a man in his early forties, sometimes he felt like he was twice that.
He approached the bridge over the large drainage ditch. “Harry, Charlie, what do you say boys?” he asked of the two older men standing guard.
“Detective Rogers,” Harry greeted, lowering his makeshift spear that somebody had fashioned out of a broomstick. “Good to see you on this fine morning.”
Rogers inclined his head, leaning on the railing over the ten-foot-wide ditch. “Any activity overnight?”
“Nothing too bad,” Charlie replied, shaking his head. “A dozen or so making their way up to the cars.” He motioned to the vehicles lined up bumper-to-bumper across the bridge as the barrier.
“About twice that much wandering up the ditch,” Harry added, motioning over his shoulder.
Rogers stepped over to peek down on that side, noting about twenty
or so zombies in the deep gully, reaching up in vain at the fresh meat.
“I figured after lunch we can take care of them,” Charlie suggested. “The boys on the west side bridge have the extender to take them out from above.:
Rogers nodded, pulling back from the railing. “There been any other survivors coming up from the south side of town?”
“Not for two days now,” Harry replied. “I’m pretty sure everybody who’s going to make it out as done so.”
Charlie straightened. “Although, you just give us the order and we’ll get a team together and go door-to-door.”
“This was a town of eight thousand people,” Rogers explained, shaking his head. “Seventy-eight hundred of which lived south of this drainage ditch. We haven’t seen anywhere near that many zombies wander our way, so god only knows how many are on the other side. I don’t like the thought of leaving survivors over there, but for the moment it’s going to have to stay that way.”
Charlie nodded, shoulders slumping a bit. “I understand, Detective.”
An airhorn cut harshly through the calm morning air, from the direction of the interstate.
Rogers sighed. “Besides, we have other issues to deal with at the moment.” He put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “I tell you what. Let me see what sort of chaos is at our doorstep, and if it’s not too bad I’ll see if I can’t find a runner to get a message to any potential survivors over there. We got a deal?”
The older man nodded, eyes brightening. “Okay. Thank you.”
Rogers smiled and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before giving both men a wave and heading back off towards town. His smile fell from his face as he put distance between him and the men, guilt gnawing at his stomach from the lie he’d just told. There was no way in hell he’d be sending anyone across that bridge. It was far too risky.
The main part of the community consisted of a small line of building next to a strip mall. Rogers approached as an SUV pulled up, skidding to a stop in the dirt. As the dust settled, Francisco jumped out and approached him.
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