by K. S. Black
He drove to the third vehicle he had fired at and told Hayley to stay inside. Pieces of the truck were scattered on the ground, the cannon in the back destroyed. The gunner’s bloodied and lifeless body lay on the asphalt. The driver’s head rested against the steering wheel, but the passenger was alive and pinned inside. He struggled to free himself as Cooper approached.
Cooper put one foot on the twisted metal frame and leaned toward the broken window. “My friends and I will help you if you tell us everything we want to know.”
“Fuck you.”
Cooper pulled out a Kimber and shot the man in the head.
“What the hell, man!” Kevin yelled from behind him.
Cooper clenched his teeth together and walked past Kevin on his way to Julie and the tan SUV.
“Shit, dude. Why’d you shoot him?” Kevin’s face was lined with accusations.
“He didn’t know anything.” Cooper walked past him.
Hayley got out of the Humvee and followed him. Kevin was already at his heels. He didn’t have time to explain himself. It needed to be done. End of story.
Julie sat on the ground, her shirt and hands covered in blood. A man lay in front of her, his head resting in her lap. “I told them I would help them get to a safe place. They trusted me.” Her tears mixed with the blood.
Kevin rushed over and kneeled down beside her. “Are you hurt?” He checked for the man’s pulse. “He’s gone. You need to let him go and come with me.”
Cooper stayed behind Kevin but was close enough to see that the blood was not hers.
Julie’s eyes flashed with recognition. “Kevin!” She gasped for air unable to say anything else through her tears.
He put his hand on her back to comfort her. “C’mon, sweetheart. I’m so sorry about your friends, but we need to get out of here. Now.”
After Kevin helped her stand, Cooper walked around to the passenger side of the totaled SUV and looked inside. The four passengers were dead. He walked towards Hayley. She stood exactly where he had left her.
“Hayley, can you help me with Julie?” Kevin waved her over. “Are you okay, kiddo?”
She shrugged her shoulders but took a few steps forward and reached for Julie’s hand. They guided Julie into the back of the Humvee.
Cooper approached and called out to Kevin. “I need your help. Let’s take the Behemoth and check on the other technicals. Tell Hayley to stay with Julie.”
Kevin glared at him but did as he asked.
They drove to the upside down technical. The passenger and the gunner were dead.
“Look.” Kevin pointed at the man in the passenger seat and frowned. “He’s shot in the head. Guess he didn’t know anything either.”
“No, he knew something. There were three people inside the truck. Do you see them now?” He shot Kevin an icy glare. “You’re an idiot if you think that piece of shit would have thought twice before taking any of us out. I did what needed to be done.” Heat rose to his face again.
Kevin backed away from him a few steps. Cooper turned and headed back to the Behemoth.
* * *
Driving onto the median, Kevin made a wide U-turn, tires squealing in protest. They drove in silence to the vehicle with the blown out engine. The gangbangers were gone and the machine gun was missing from the back.
Several pistol shots rang out. Auto fire exploded from the intersection in front of them, past the truck that had crashed into Costco. Hayley and Julie stood next to the Humvee shooting at the infected that poured out of the building. On the other side of the intersection, two men from the gray SUV fired on the infected heading in their direction.
Kevin aimed his rolling fortress straight at the infected and plowed through them, hitting all but two. He stomped on the brakes. The Behemoth shuddered and slid across the road. Cooper moved to the back of the vehicle with his Tavor and tried to open the rear doors, but the weight of the doors coupled with momentum pushing him backward made it impossible for him to get out.
The Behemoth stopped, and he pulled the doors open. As he made his way out, he tripped. He started to fall head first but put his arms out in front of him and rolled out onto his feet and ran toward Hayley amazed that he hadn’t broken something.
She got inside the Humvee and closed the front passenger door seconds before two infected smacked into the window. They pounded on the glass with their open palms. Another one joined them. Julie got in through the other side. Cooper motioned for them to get down and took aim.
They ducked below the window line.
When he was ten yards away, he unintentionally unloaded twelve rounds into the back of one of the infected. With his magazine empty, the infected man turned to face him and let out a high pitched yelp as he charged. Two more joined him. Cooper pulled both Kimbers and aimed for their chests. The first infected crumpled to the ground. His aim was off with the others. They kept coming, blood oozing from their wounds. Cooper fired again, and they went down only a few feet away from him.
When the shooting stopped, both Hayley and Julie looked out through the blood splattered window. Hayley pushed open the door. “Get in! They’re coming from the other side!”
He turned. Three more infected ran toward him like Olympic sprinters. Hayley and Julie pulled him in by his arms, and he pushed with his feet to get the rest of the way inside. Julie reached over and closed the door just as the infected reached the Humvee. The two men and one woman shrieked and clicked their teeth together while they slapped the windows leaving their bloody hand prints on the glass.
Cooper climbed into the driver’s seat. “Strap in!” Kevin and the gray SUV were driving away chased by a small pack of infected.
Without hesitating, Cooper drove behind the infected and took out four of them; the rest of the group scattered. Julie and Hayley gasped when the bodies hit the bumper. The Humvee bounced as Cooper ran over them.
The SUV stopped at the intersection with Kevin behind them. Taking the lead position, Cooper led them home.
CHAPTER 42
June 5 – South of Bowie Texas
Jake and Michele set up camp on a small peninsula on Lake Amon G. Carter a few miles south of Bowie, Texas. Jake had spent countless hours there with his father fishing for largemouth bass.
He and Michele used the LAV as a makeshift shelter at night. The fish were plentiful. They used the dried and packaged foods they brought with them to supplement their catch, and there was the occasional egg.
Except for the dirt access road, the peninsula was protected on all sides by the lake, an ideal place to let the animals graze. Spending time cooped up together at night in the trailer made all the livestock testy, especially the bull so having a place to let them out during the day was a necessity.
Cabins dotted the areas around the lake. During the day, they went from cabin to cabin collecting food and other supplies. Only a handful of crazies had been trapped inside. Jake took care of them. They collected a few weeks’ worth of food but not much ammo or diesel.
Michele wanted to bunk inside one of the cabins at night, but he refused. The chances that they might get trapped inside the way they did at the ranch outweighed the benefits of sleeping in a bed. At night, the crazies roamed the areas in the distance like packs of deranged coyotes yelping and screeching. It was only a matter of time before they got closer.
The day to day uncertainties made Jake anxious to find a place with other survivors. On the rare occasions that he heard people on the radio, Wichita, Kansas seemed like the place to go. He had an uncle in Wichita. Maybe he was still there. They made plans to head north. It wasn’t any safer here than it had been at the ranch.
* * *
Jake opened his eyes. It was dark inside the LAV, but he felt rested. He woke with a sense of purpose and in a much better mood. Michele was still asleep. He’d catch hell from her if she woke up and found him staring at her while she was sleeping.
After almost two weeks, her eye was no longer swollen. The bruises had turned fro
m a dark ugly purple to a barely noticeable greenish-yellow. The scab under her right eyebrow was almost gone. She was going to have a great story to go along with the scar.
Michele was what his mother would call cute as a button. The women he usually dated were tall blondes with big breasts and long legs, not ones who barely came up to his chest and looked like they were still in high school.
She was cute, though, and looked like she spent a fair amount of time at the gym. He couldn’t deny what she made him feel. But he was more attracted to her for what she was like on the inside. This was new for him. He liked her spirit and that she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. Most of all, he liked the fact that she was smart. He liked that a lot more than he thought he would.
Stress, exhaustion and her injuries put a damper on him trying to do anything more than talk to her. But that didn’t stop him from imagining what she looked like naked.
He quietly made his way to the front of the vehicle and got out through the turret. The sky was orange and he couldn’t stop staring. It had been a long time since he appreciated a sunrise.
A half hour later, he woke Michele with the smell of hot coffee and fried fish wafting under her nose. “Wake up sunshine.”
Her eyes flew open. “Jake! What are you doing?” She frowned and let out a small groan. “These stupid troop seats aren’t helping my sore ribs or my shoulder.”
“Breakfast, darlin’. Are you going to complain about my serving you breakfast in bed?” He pretended to look disappointed.
She laughed. Her frown melted into one of the most beautiful smiles he had ever seen.
“I’m not used to having fish for breakfast. And for lunch and dinner.” She stuck out her tongue but still reached for the plate and the mug he held in front of her.
“It’s good to see you in a better mood.”
* * *
Two days earlier, he had found a pickup with the keys in the ignition. He planned to drive into Bowie for diesel fuel and extra feed for the animals. He’d leave Michele with the LAV for protection since she agreed to stay back at camp to watch the livestock and get their supplies organized and packed for the trip.
With a phonebook, a map, and his father’s shotgun in the seat next to him, he arrived in Bowie. Population before the Apocalypse—5197. After the Apocalypse—who the fuck knew?
He was dressed in the same gear he wore on the night he and Michele fled the ranch. Not sure what they’d find after they made it to Wichita, he wanted to stock up on more food and supplies. His first stop was the feed store on the edge of town.
Without much fuss, he used the bolt cutters he had taken from his father’s tool shed to break the lock on the fence surrounding the loading area in the back. The truck bed already had 4 empty fifty-gallon drums and 6 five-gallon jerry cans loaded in it, but he managed to squeeze in some bags of feed and a few bales of hay. He threw some livestock vitamins and ointment on the passenger side floor.
His heart began to beat faster and his palms started to sweat as he drove through town. He passed a Pizza Hut, a Dairy Queen, and several small stores that had been burned to the ground. Over half of the buildings had been tagged with graffiti. It looked different here than the places that had been evacuated. Was he stupid to think they were going to be safer in Wichita?
The closer he got to the center of town, the worse everything looked. Whole blocks were burned to the ground and the streets were littered with debris and overturned cars. He saw the same graffiti tags spray painted everywhere. Bullet holes studded the buildings and most of the lower level windows were broken. Barricades blocked several intersections. But no evidence of people anywhere. How could this be the Texas he loved so much?
He parked the truck in front of a jewelry store and got out with his shotgun. A slight breeze blew the trash across the deserted street. A crow squawked in the distance. He checked the area before stepping over the broken glass that used to be the door and went inside to scavenge for silver and gold for barter if looters hadn’t taken it all.
The display cases were smashed and empty, but he still wanted to look around. He couldn’t move without stepping on broken glass. In the back room, he found a large safe streaked with black soot and pushed over on its side. Dried blood stippled the debris that covered every surface. Someone had gotten caught up in the blast that had blown the safe wide open. He poked around the debris but didn’t find anything.
On his way back to the front of the store, he slipped and cut his left hand. It stung but the wound wasn’t deep.
He made his way back to where he had seen a small bathroom. It was dark inside, so he shoved a piece of wood debris under the door to hold it open. He wanted to rinse the blood off, but the water from the faucet could have been contaminated. He grabbed a wad of paper and applied pressure to the cut. Holding his cut hand and the paper towels against his chest, he opened a cabinet above the toilet figuring that was where they’d keep a first aid kit. His hunch was right.
He needed more light to see what he was doing, so he made his way to the front of the store again. He saw a jeweler’s bench.
Other than the display that had fallen against it, the bench was untouched.
When he finished bandaging his hand, he took a closer look. A shelf with at least a dozen small drawers built into it rested on top. After opening each drawer, he had found dozens of coin envelopes. Most contained jewelry or watch parts that weren’t worth much, but he also found two 14 karat gold chains and pocketed them.
He opened the long, central drawer and counted out fifteen envelopes marked with different numbers. Some had the letter S stamped on the outside. He opened one that also had a 6 on it and shook out a ring into his cupped hand. It was made from a silver coin and too small for his finger. The rest of envelopes contained the same kinds of rings in various sizes but made from different types of coins. He fit all them into two envelopes.
He checked the drawers underneath the bench on both sides. Most of them held tools and jewelry molds; others held various types and sizes of gift boxes and gift bags.
The largest drawer on the top right was locked with no key in sight. He went to the truck and returned with a tire iron. After prying open the drawer, he found at least a dozen envelopes with work orders stapled to them.
The first envelope contained a sterling silver medallion, a silver anniversary gift. The sentiment the gift-giver wanted to have engraved on it was written on the work order. Jake put the medallion back in the envelope and shoved it in his pocket.
He opened the next envelope and dumped out a gold Marine Blessing Ring with Semper Fidelis engraved on the back. It was heavier and bigger than the cheap stainless steel medallions he’d seen a few friends wearing. The hallmark stamp on the rounded edge read 18K.
He stuffed the envelopes into his pockets, but then he pulled them all out and set them back on the bench. He found the envelope he was looking for and poured out a long gold chain. After sliding the blessing ring onto the chain, he put it on over his head and tucked it inside his protective gear. It was a little long for his liking, but it would do.
The next two envelopes contained crucifixes, both sterling silver. The last envelope felt as heavy as the one with the Marines Blessing Ring. Inside he found a gold Saint Christopher’s Medal on an expensive looking chain. Both the medallion and the chain had the same 18K hallmark stamp on it. He found a small box for it and stuffed the envelopes and the box into his pocket.
* * *
Finding a gas station was easy, but getting the fuel was not. Jake found the access ports to the fuel tanks, but two of the ground tanks were left open and looked dry. He saw a third port covered with debris but had no idea if it still contained fuel. He looked around for a measuring stick and spotted one lying next to a small shed on the side of the convenience store. When he picked it up, half of it fell to the ground. But a little duct tape and it was as good as new.
Something rustled behind him. He set the stick down and picked up his shotgun. Proba
bly just the wind, chicken shit.
He picked up the measuring stick again and placed it in the tank. When he took it back out, it was wet and smelled like diesel.
He worked quickly with the hand pump he had brought with him and scanned the area every few seconds. It took him over twenty minutes to fill his jerrycans. When he was done, he got back inside the truck more than ready to head back to Michele.
He had traveled about a block when a bullet shattered the windshield to the right of his head. He stepped on the gas, barely dodging an abandoned car and side swiping another. Another round hit the windshield. The laminated safety glass stayed in place, but he couldn’t see through it. He knocked it out with the barrel of his shotgun and kept driving.
Detecting movement on his left, he hunched lower in his seat. A shot dinged the roof. Two rednecks in a similar sized pickup appeared beside him. He figured they were trying to run him off the road without spilling his cargo. Maybe they wanted the truck, too.
He crowded them into a row of abandoned cars. They backed off. He moved ahead of them. They got behind him. Inches separated them. He tapped his brakes. The other truck swerved to avoid him, but instead, the bull guard on the front of their truck hooked onto Jake’s back bumper. He floored the accelerator.
He was free but bumper-less. The two rednecks skidded to a stop, sparks flying from the metal bumper dragging across the road.
He was outside the city limits before he looked back to see if anyone had followed him. No one had. He touched the box in his pocket. Maybe there really was something to those St. Christopher medals.
When he pulled onto the peninsula, Michele was standing next to the LAV. She smiled and waved as he got closer. He swore he’d always remember that smile for as long as he lived.
He got out of the truck, and she stood there looking up at him, her hair glistening in the sun. He bent down and took her face in his hands and kissed her gently on the lips. She kissed him back and wrapped her arms around his waist.
A little breathless, she stepped back. “Are you okay?”