Dead Texas (Book 4): The Journey West

by Slaton, Derek

  DEAD TEXAS: THE JOURNEY WEST

  BOOK FOUR

  BY DEREK SLATON

  © 2018

  CHAPTER ONE

  Sparks winced at every gunshot faintly emanating from the earpiece on the floor. Each one of those shots claiming the life of an innocent member of Principal Dan’s group. The group she had worked so hard to protect.

  She took a deep breath and lifted the earpiece with a trembling hand. She slipped it back on as she clenched her jaw. However painful, she needed as much information as she could get.

  “Sir!” A male voice. “There’s a fire at the supply trucks!”

  “Kill everyone, and do whatever you have to do to save those supplies!” Elijah barked orders in the distance.

  “Sir, it’s all gone,” another voice said with reluctance.

  “Goddammit!” Elijah screamed in frustration, and the gunfire died away in the background. “Alright. Let’s regroup at the farmhouse.” There was the sound of a door slamming and then silence.

  When Sparks was sure that there was to be no more intel, she tore the earpiece from her head and threw it across the room. Anger pulsed through her veins like napalm and she wiped away the last tear she was willing to shed because of these assholes.

  She tossed the canvas bag of meds over her shoulder before doing a sweep of the house. She nabbed a few handgun mags from the dead militia members and two handguns. Her eyes locked on a pump action shotgun on the kitchen counter next to a set of keys.

  “Not really idea,” she picked up the large weapon and turned it over in her hands. “But it’ll do.”

  She came upon a large store room full of food and water, and stuffed her bag full before returning to the living room. Zombies stood on the front porch, banging on the door, and she carefully peeked out the window off to the side. There were a dozen or so clustered there, and past them no vehicles that the keys could belong to.

  A zombified militia member suddenly struck the glass with its face, gnawing at the window. She gave it the finger before moving to the back of the house. The back porch was clear, with no movement in the backyard that she could tell through the window. There was a pickup truck about ten feet from the door, and she drew her handgun.

  A thought niggled in the back of her brain just before she exited, and she turned to face the store room of supplies that Elijah and his surviving men were coming back to enjoy. She holstered her weapon and rummaged through the kitchen cupboards. She set a bottle of whiskey on the counter and shoved a rag down the top of it. She carefully stowed it in the side pocket of her bag before heading back to the front of the house.

  She yelled and banged on the front door. Originally she’d just wanted to rile up the front porch zombies, but she drew on every ounce of her pain and frustration and sadness and injected it into the primal scream escaping her body. It was cathartic, popping the cap on the shaken up bottle of tension in her guts.

  Once finished, she stalked to the back door again, feeling lighter and ready for action as she drew her gun. She gently opened it, slipping outside with the keys at the ready and running to the truck. She unlocked the vehicle and grabbed the bottle from her bag before tossing it into the passenger’s seat. She clambered up into the driver’s seat and closed the door behind her as silently as she could.

  She slid the key into the ignition and then set her gun on the dashboard before lighting the molotov in her hand. She turned the key, wanting to make damn sure that her only means of escape worked before burning down her only shelter. It purred to life, and she smiled thinly.

  She hung her hand out the open window of the truck and chucked it through the back door of the farmhouse. It shattered in the hallway, coating the walls in liquid flame.

  She punched the gas and sped around the house, the zombies oblivious to her escape.

  The flickering flames consumed the house quickly, and faded into the rearview mirror. The white hot rage within Sparks, however, remained.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “What do you think?” Jeff asked Rufus, the two leaning over the roof of the truck. All was quiet on the streets as they squinted in the darkness of the interstate exit ramp.

  The older man inclined his head. “I’m thinkin’ that gas station across the street probably has a bathroom.”

  “Good to know you’re focused on the important things.” The skinhead rolled his eyes.

  Rufus shrugged. “Spoken like a man who’s never had to dig his own hole to take a shit in.”

  “Just be sure you check under the stall door before you go busting in,” Jeff warned.

  “Good call,” his companion agreed.

  “What you think boys, we good?” Mary called through the back window.

  “Yeah, head over to the gas station,” Jeff instructed.

  Ricky put the truck in drive. “You got it,” he confirmed. He bumbled slowly across the way into the gas station parking lot. There were a few dead bodies scattered about, all of them missing the backs of their heads. Their clothes were tattered and encrusted in blood, so it was clear that the head wounds were the killing blow in their second, undead life.

  As soon as he pulled up to the pumps, the two passengers in the back jumped down to the concrete.

  “You two stay in the cab until we check the building out,” Rufus instructed. “If you see us runnin’, you be ready to punch it.”

  Ricky nodded. “I got your back, bubba.”

  “You take point,” Jeff said, and the older man led the way to the convenience store.

  “I’ll sweep the aisles,” he said, “and you make sure nothin’ comes at me from behind the register or the back room.”

  The skinhead nodded. “Alright, let’s do it.” He pulled the small door open, and Rufus burst in, assault rifle at the ready. He swiftly moved through the front of the store, aiming down each of the four short aisles. Jeff followed in and jumped behind the counter, finding nothing.

  “Clear,” Rufus called from the back.

  “Same here,” the skinhead replied. There was a sudden banging from the back of the store that startled them both. They cautiously met at the back hallway towards the storage room, only to find it heavily barricaded. Rufus reached forward and tapped on the door, and a ruckus erupted from the other side.

  “Well, that got ‘em all riled up,” he said.

  Jeff yanked on the barricade a bit and shrugged. “It’s solid. Doesn’t sound like there are enough of them to get through.”

  “While I tend to agree, you mind keeping an eye on it while I conduct an air raid?” Rufus smirked.

  Just as Jeff opened his mouth to reply, the store filled with flashing red and blue lights. “What the hell is that?”

  “Whatever it is, we’re gonna be ready for it,” the older man replied, raising his rifle.

  Jeff nodded. “Let’s get out there.”

  “Nah, you stay in here,” Rufus said with a shake of his head. “If things get squirrely, it’d be good to have an ace in the hole.”

  “I’ll be ready,” his companion replied.

  The older man exited the store holding the gun casually but with his finger discreetly on the trigger. There was a fully uniformed police officer standing behind the open door of a cruiser, lights flashing.

  “Whoa, that’s far enough right there,” the officer barked.

  Rufus continued his stroll over to the truck, leaning up against the bed. He was happy to see that Ricky and Mary were still inside the cab. “What seems to be the trouble officer?”

  “Y’all are in a heap of trouble, breaking into the gas station like that,” he snapped, but his voice trembled with false bravado. The older man estimated him to be in his early twenties
, and wondered how fresh out of the academy he’d been when shit went south.

  Rufus laughed. “It’s the motherfucking apocalypse and you’re worried about breaking and entering? What kind of dumbass are you, boy?”

  “Look, the law’s the law, and I’m here to enforce it,” the officer said, and swallowed hard. “So I’m gonna have to ask y’all to come with me.”

  “Zombies runnin’ wild and you wanna take us to jail for fightin’ to survive?” Rufus narrowed his eyes.

  “Not gonna take you to jail.” The officer shook his head. “The Sheriff has set up a shelter in Junction, so I’m gonna take you there and let him decide what to do with you.”

  There was a click as Jeff stepped out of the shadows behind the cruiser. “Is this really a fight you want to have?”

  The officer whipped around with his gun drawn, prompting both of his opponents to aim at him.

  “Easy, buddy,” Jeff warned. “I don’t want to put you down, but you wouldn’t be the first today.”

  “Alright.” The officer holstered his gun slowly. “Now let’s just take it down a beat, guys.”

  “Oh, we’re down, bud,” Rufus replied.

  “How about we do this?” He raised his hands beside his head. “Why don’t you guys follow me to the shelter, and I’ll tell the Sheriff you flagged me down. Then we’re all good.”

  “Well, it’s gonna be a while before we can do that,” Jeff replied. “We have some friends coming to meet us and they’re a few hours out.”

  “Some friends, huh?” The officer raised an eyebrow. “How many?”

  “A few dozen or so,” Rufus said.

  “I don’t know if we’re gonna have the supplies to accommodate that many.”

  “Don’t worry, we’re self sufficient,” Jeff explained. “Outside of gas, of course.”

  “Well, hell, bud, why didn’t you say so?” the officer asked, and reached into his pocket, producing a set of keys. “Here, I’ve got the key to unlock the pump so you can get filled up. I’m Deputy Carter of the Junction PD.”

  Jeff gripped his gun tightly, on high alert. “I’m Jeff, that’s Rufus,” he introduced carefully. “The young couple in the truck are Ricky and Mary.”

  “Nice to meet y’all,” Carter replied brightly, and headed over to the pump. “Here, let me get the gas going for you. You want the hi-test there, bud?”

  “Uh, yeah,” Ricky replied, brow furrowed. “That’ll work.”

  “Alright, coming right up!” the Deputy exclaimed as he opened the gas tank.

  Jeff waved Rufus over to him. “Is it just me, or did he get suspiciously friendly when I mentioned we were bringing food?” he asked quietly.

  “Why couldn’t this sumbitch be in my weekly card game?” Rufus replied in a low voice. “With a poker face like that I could have been driving a Camaro by now.”

  “You think we should take him out?” Jeff wondered.

  “Nah,” the older man replied with a shake of his head. “He may be a dipshit, but I don’t think he’s lying about the Sheriff and the shelter. Don’t know about you, but I’ve had my fill of armed confrontations for the day.”

  “Alright,” the skinhead said. “But he doesn’t leave our sight. This motherfucker doesn’t get a moment of privacy. If he’s not on the up and up, the last thing we need are his friends showing up.”

  “Agreed.”

  “There ya go, that’ll be twenty-seven fifty,” Carter replaced the gas pump and locked it. “Ha ha, just messing with ya!”

  Ricky and Mary shared an unamused glance.

  “So you know, if you don’t wanna sit out here I can run you up to the shelter and send some of my boys back to meet your friends,” the Deputy offered, leaning his elbow on the driver’s side window. “I mean, no sense in y’all spending the night outside when you can be nice and comfy, right?”

  “If it’s all the same, Deputy, I think we’re gonna stay right here and wait for our friends,” Jeff piped up.

  “Well, alright then,” Carter said, shrugging his shoulders. His eyes darted around as he stepped back from the truck. “I guess I can hang out with you. Hey, any of you want some coffee? I stashed a bag behind the front counter. I can brew us some!”

  Jeff nodded. “Sure, let me give you a hand.”

  “Oh no, I got ya,” Carter waved his hands in front of his face.

  “Please, I insist,” the skinhead replied with a grin. “You’re kind enough to take us to the shelter, the least I can do is help out.”

  The Deputy’s big smile faltered. “Alright then, you get the water and I’ll get the beans.”

  “I’ll bring Ricky and Mary up to speed,” Rufus assured his companion as he followed after the mysterious officer.

  “Oh, Rufus, how do you take your coffee?” Jeff called over his shoulder as they walked.

  “Like I take my women,” the older man called back. “Cold and bitter.”

  Jeff chuckled. “And here I was thinking you preferred them Irish.”

  “Ah, you convinced me.” Rufus laughed. “I’ll take it Irish.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” the skinhead replied as he opened the door for the Deputy.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Sparks pulled off the interstate, slowly as she approached the off-ramp. The combination of sleep deprivation and self-loathing had her in a bit of a daze.

  “How the hell am I going to explain this to the others? Everybody is gone because I fucked up. Oh god, what if the others didn’t make it either?” She shook her head violently from side to side, as if to shake away her demons. “Jesus Christ girl, snap out of it.”

  She crested the hill of the ramp and nearly burst into relieved tears at the sight of her four friends clustered around the back of Ricky’s truck with a police officer. She pulled into the parking lot and before she could even get out of the car, Rufus was right there.

  “Goddamn girl, even when you look like hell, you still look amazing.” He shot her a lopsided grin. “Bet you have some stories to tell.”

  She let out a small bewildered laugh before burying her face in his chest.

  “Ah, come on now,” Rufus squeezed her in a hug. “It wasn’t that bad of a compliment.”

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured into his chest. “It… it was just a rough night.”

  “Don’t worry about it, girl,” he replied, and rubbed her back in slow circles. “We had a hell of a time too.”

  “Ma’am, I’m Deputy Carter,” the officer strolled up, and the redhead straightened up, turning to face him with squared shoulders.

  “Officer Sparks of the Austin PD.”

  “Oh, an officer, huh?” Carter replied. “Good to know.” He nodded, but she was already walking past him towards the tailgate.

  “Everybody, I… I have news,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her. “Last night I had an encounter with Elijah.”

  Rufus stepped up beside her, eyes blazing. “That motherfucker, did he hurt you?”

  “No,” she replied, shaking her head. “He tried, but… no. He did get my belongings, though. Including the GPS and my earpiece.”

  Mary burst into tears, and Ricky wrapped his arms around her shoulders tightly.

  “How bad is it?” Jeff asked. “I haven’t been able to reach them all morning.”

  “They’re…” Sparks swallowed hard. “They’re all gone.”

  Ricky folded his wife into his chest, glaring at the redhead. “How do you know?” he asked, wiping furiously at his eyes.

  “I got my earpiece back and talked to Dan just as Elijah showed up,” Sparks explained, eyes downcast. Rufus put an arm around her shoulders, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “All I heard were gunshots, and Dan telling me it was okay. There was apparently a fire in the supplies, too.”

  Carter stepped forward, rejoining the group. “So there’s no food coming?”

  Sparks tore away from Rufus and whirled on the Deputy, eyes blazing as she stood nose to nose with him. “That’s your fucking
takeaway from what I just said?”

  His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “I… uh…”

  “My fuckup killed our entire group, and all you care about is the food?” she demanded.

  The deputy stepped back, eyes wide. “Ma’am, I’m very sorry for your loss,” he stammered, “and I’m even sorrier for my response. It’s just, we have a lot of people at the shelter and the supplies aren’t that plentiful…”

  The redhead turned away from him, addressing her friends. “This is something that is going to haunt me for the rest of my days,” she admitted. “It’s my fault that Elijah got a hold of the GPS, and it’s… it’s my fault that Principal Dan and the others are gone… it’s my fault…” She took in a deep ragged breath and Rufus put his hands on her shoulders again.

  “Girl, you listen to me and you listen good,” he demanded. “You ain’t to blame for what that bastard Elijah did. Hell, if you wanna blame somebody then you need to be blamin’ me.”

  “Rufus.” Her voice cracked as she looked up at him. “I appreciate the sentiment, but you aren’t the one who lost the GPS that led them back to the camp.”

  “No, but I am the one who missed an open shot on the sumbitch when I had it,” he replied. “If I didn’t fuck that up, then he wouldn’ta been a problem for you cause dead men don’t walk.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “Granted, that saying carried a lot more weight a week ago,” he said. “But damn girl, you get my point.”

  “I do, Rufus,” she said leaning her head against his shoulder. “And thanks.”

  He squeezed her shoulder. “Anytime, girl.”

  Carter stepped back into the group. “Y’all, I’m sorry to interrupt… again,” he said, raising his hands. “But if nobody else is coming, we really should get up to the shelter. There’s a lot going on in town and I really need to get you back.”

  “Dude,” Jeff snapped. “Can you give us a moment here do mourn?”

  “It’s alright Jeff, he’s right, we can’t just sit around here all day,” Sparks cut in. “Deputy, I’m going to grab a cup of that coffee and gas up the truck here, then we can be on our way.”