He scolded them for being crude. He only spoke of her with reverence and respect, like she was ancient royalty; ethereal with her exotic accent, almost other worldly in the mist and moonlight. Like a damaged, fallen goddess. He told of the scars and gashes that marked her perfect skin and how it hurt him just to look at them. It was a blasphemy what they did to her. He told of someone else’s dried blood splashed all over. Of her calm and kind eyes despite a roadmap of sorrows slashed into her body. He said he felt unworthy to see her so vulnerable and cast his eyes down. There was something fragile and broken about her that made him want to protect and defend her. Pledge his life for hers. Serve her forever. He told how the Road Angel was just as bloody with a smashed nose and blackening eyes. Even their dog had crusted red around his muzzle. They’d been in a hell of a battle somewhere; a lot of men had died from the looks of things but neither would speak of it, just said they ran into a little trouble.
When the old man was on his deathbed, he remembered her and left this world with a smile on his face, hoping to meet her again.
They followed one of guards through the gate and he lead them to a quaint downtown area that covered a few blocks. Before the zombie uprising, most of the buildings had been antique or art shops with a few eateries and ice cream places mixed in. It had been a tourist town where the annual North Dakota Steam Festival took place every fall. He knocked on a door of an old hotel and after a few tries, a sleepy woman answered, rented them adjoining rooms and told them breakfast was at seven a.m.
They showered and tried to sleep, tried to put yesterday behind them. The senseless and vicious killings that happened too fast to stop. Kill or be killed. Jessie understood much, had figured things out on the long nighttime drive where he had nothing to do but think. He knew she was some sort of deity, some goddess or queen of the Anubis cult. She was as strong and quick as him, probably stronger and faster. From the few things she’d mentioned about her father, he ran the whole show and they’d had a falling out. A disagreement of how to proceed. The Lieutenant had called her a traitor and the soldiers hadn’t listened to her when she tried to get them to stop. They’d followed the instructions of their leader and had ignored hers. He wasn’t sure what it all meant, though. Would she go back to them, try to straighten things out? Go to war against them because they were out of control? Ignore it and flee to the south? Continue her mission of scouting weak settlements?
He finally drifted off into fitful sleep, the sheets too soft and the pillows too puffy for him to be comfortable. The room smelled of scented candles instead of gasoline and gunpowder. He didn’t have to share the bed and keep shoving Bob the bake oven away from him. Since Jessie’s body temperature was a few degrees cooler than the dog’s, he liked to scooch up close. The room was secure but he was still alert, even while he slept.
Scarlet was already gone when he awoke. He looked in the mirror and touched at his face. His nose felt better, most of the swelling had gone down over night and the raccoon rings around his eyes was fading fast. He slipped into his padded tactical pants, still damp from the shower wash he’d given them and wondered what she was wearing. They didn’t have any clothes with them. He shrugged into his jacket, buckled on his guns and went down the stairs, Bob keeping pace beside him. They found her and Nefertiti in the dining area with a room full of others who lived in the boarding house full time. She was dressed in second hand jeans, a pair of slippers and a Punisher t-shirt.
“I told them you’d pay for it.” she said. “I didn’t have any money. Or any pockets if I did have money.”
Jessie grunted and shoved the cat out of the only other chair, put his back against the wall and sat. He was still tired, he’d only gotten two or three hours sleep. It hissed at Bob and he ignored her, flopping down at Jessies feet, waiting for table scraps.
“I think we should go along here.” she said and pointed at a route she’d marked on his map. “All the way to the Mississippi. That’s the new boundaries, right? They blew all the bridges?”
Jessie was more annoyed she’d been in his car without permission and marked up his maps more than he was being told he’d just bought her some clothes. He needed coffee and signaled the waitress. This little town was bustling and he was surprised he hadn’t heard about it. They knew of him by reputation so they must have radios. He wondered why they hadn’t contacted Lakota.
“Lemme wake up first.” Jessie grumbled and took the proffered coffee.
“You want milk or sugar Sweetie?” the waitress asked and Jessie shook his head. Black was fine.
“Breakfast plate?” she asked.
He nodded. “And something for my dog if you have it. Any old bone will do, as long as it’s not chicken.”
She frowned at the shepherd and hurried off, she had other orders to fill.
“You’re a grumpy bastard in the mornings.” Scarlet said, cheerily buttering her roll.
Jessie just grunted again, understood she was trying to put yesterday behind her. Her way of dealing with it was to try to forget it even happened. He let his eyes wander the room, looking for trouble out of instinct. He noticed a lot more women than he usually saw in the settlements. Generally, the men outnumbered them two or three to one. She saw what he was doing, saw how he was sitting and felt the first prickling of paranoia. Of feeling exposed and vulnerable. She glanced over her shoulder then moved her chair around the little table next to him so her back was against the wall also. She realized she didn’t know a whole lot about survival if something so simple as having a good view of the room had never occurred to her. She’d always depended on her speed and strength, had never considered being ambushed. No wonder the Raiders had captured her so easily, she hadn’t been watching. There were probably plenty of signs she was riding into a trap and she hadn’t noticed them.
“Black shirt and jeans, near the door.” Jessie said. “Don’t be obvious but what do you see?”
“Not a local.” she said. “Not a raider, either. A scavenger or maybe a retriever. I see three guns and a knife.”
Jessie nodded, sipped his coffee, kept evaluating threats out of habit.
“Man with the assault rifle.” Scarlet said, getting into the game, looking for suspicious people.
Jessie took in the man’s appearance, his tired eyes, the rifle leaning against the wall and his drooping shoulders.
“Just got off guard duty.” he said. “Been up all night, he’s drinking water, not coffee. Getting ready to go to bed. And that’s a Wal-Mart AR-15, not an assault rifle.”
“Fine, Ricky Rambo.” she said and rolled her eyes. “Woman with the two kids. Four tables over.”
Jessie casually shifted his gaze, frowning slightly. He’d seen her, glanced right over her. She wasn’t a threat, she had a couple of little girls with her who couldn’t be any more than twelve or fourteen. She was quietly arguing with a gruff looking man. He tuned in his ears as the waitress set their plates down, wondering why Scarlet chose such a harmless looking woman to point out.
“And I’m telling you Missy, either you or one of these girls is coming upstairs with me. You owe me for two days stay and two days food. I’m getting paid right now whether you like it or not, you know the rules in this town. If you owe, you pay when it is demanded. That’s the law and the council will enforce it. They’ll turn you out to the zombies and I’ll still get what I want cuz I’m the smart one here. So, either you pick or I will.”
“It’s not fair.” she said, her eyes swimming in tears she tried to blink away. “I thought you meant I could work off what I owed in the kitchen or waiting tables.”
“Them’s the rules.” he said and smiled a black toothed smile. “Ain’t my problem if you wasn’t clear on them before you made the agreement. Ain’t my problem if you wasn’t smart.”
Jessies face turned dark to match Scarlets hooded scowl.
“Nothing ever changes in this world.” she said “People are cock heads. We should cut off his ding dong.”
“You can�
��t just show up and start killing people.” Jessie said. “She won’t let him take the kids, she’ll go with him herself.”
“And that makes it right?” her eyes flashed at him, a hard edge of anger in them.
“No.” Jessie said. “It makes the world a shitty place with shitty people. You cuss funny. Who taught you how, anyway?”
“Don’t change the subject.” she said with heat in her voice. “You’re going to sit there eating eggs and do nothing?”
“No.” Jessie sighed. “But I don’t particularly want to put my hands on another man’s junk so you can cut it off.”
She just cocked an eyebrow at him, giving him that look his mom gave his dad sometimes. Girls must have a class for things like that. Geez, if she wanted to kick his ass, she certainly didn’t need his help.
He scowled, set down his fork. “Let me show you a way that doesn’t include traumatizing some kids and pools of blood somebody had to mop up.”
He stood and she joined him as he walked over to the table where the woman was telling the kids to behave, she’d be back in a little bit. The big man tapped his foot, waited impatiently for her to soothe the brats.
Jessie pulled a fistful of gold from his pocket and placed it in the woman’s hand. “I believe these are yours, ma’am.” he said and turned to leave. Scarlet watched, the disappointment on her face evident. She wanted to hurt the guy. The black toothed man lost his smile and slammed a meaty fist down on the table.
She moved in a blur of speed. One second she was standing beside Jessie, the next she had a fork pressing against the man’s jugular vein and a steak knife jabbing into his crotch, the tip pricking hard against his most valuable asset. He stood perfectly still, eyes bulging, mouth open. Scarlet stood on her tip toes and whispered in his ear.
“Is her money not good enough?” she cooed. “There are other ways to solve her problem. I hear man parts make good fishing bait.”
She put a little more pressure on the knife, cutting through his pants, the blade drawing a little blood. His bluster fled like air from a balloon. He recognized the Road Angel now, saw the scar and the guns slung low on his hips, remembered all the stories he’d heard on the radio. He hadn’t heard the kid had a girlfriend as deadly as him and he didn’t want to mess with either one of them. A smart man didn’t cross the boy. Even if only half the stories were true, that was enough for him.
“Her money is good.” he said, stumbling over his words to get them out, his voice cracking. “Plenty good. She’s good. I’m good. Are you good?” he asked trying to move away from the pressure of the tines against his neck.
“Are you sure you’re good?” Scarlett asked him coquettishly. “I think I’d rather like you to be bad. I like fishing.”
“Nope. No.” he said placatingly, trying to calm the scar faced woman down. “No need for all that. I’m good. Just a little misunderstanding. It’s all good.”
Jessie watched and when he caught her eye, it was his turn to give her the look. The “alright, that’s enough. Cut it out before somebody gets hurt” look. The one he’d received more times than he could count from his mom.
“Good.” she said with a smile and pulled her silverware away then stood in front of him, a full head shorter and a hundred pounds lighter, daring him to try something. She beamed innocently at the confused look on his face going from fear to anger then back to fear. She put her hands behind her back and hummed and swayed a little, tried to look as tiny and helpless as she could, a sweet and defenseless little girl, hoping he’d take the bait.
He didn’t. He backed away slowly, still darting glances between the crazy girl and the gun fighter until he made it to the stairs. He turned and bolted.
The woman followed them back to their table, thanking them over and over, so much it was starting to get embarrassing until Scarlet finally said their food was getting cold, she should go away.
“You’re not really a people person, are you?” Jessie asked, working on his eggs and grinning at her confused look.
16
Gunny
Gunny sat the enduro, half hidden in the shadows of an ancient, oversized tracked machine and the swirling dust. With the spiked raiders helmet and disgusting finger bone vest pulled on over his Molle, he looked like one of them. He stripped the tape from his grenades and waited for the right moment to cause maximum chaos. With a little luck, that chicken shit Casey would show up and he could end this mission on a high note. He hadn’t spotted him yet and he had to do something fast, the raiders were starting to get organized. Enough time had elapsed for his crew to either hijack their own rigs or they had been killed trying. Either way, it was time to make his move. If any of them were successful, they’d already be running hard towards the road. Two trucks slid to a halt in an open area and the men inside started yelling for the guys in the back to get out and start a ground search.
“That’s as good as it’s gonna get” he said under his breath and pulled the pin on his last grenades
He lobbed them one after the other, letting the spoons fly off mid flight and could only hope no one noticed and tossed them back. No way was going to let one cook off before he threw it. They had a three to five second fuse and were made by the lowest bidder. He didn’t even like carrying them around with him.
He ducked behind the derelict crane and twisted the wick as soon as he felt the second blast shake the ground. He shot down an alley and heard a gas tank go up, adding its fiery red explosion to the mayhem of screaming men and flaming debris raining down. Gunny ducked low over the bars and ran through the gears once he cleared the last rusting hulk, racing for the asphalt some twenty or thirty miles away. He saw a couple of dust plumes far in the distance and smiled, despite the way the helmet smelled with the visor down. His crew had made it. They had a good head start and Casey’s goons were in a state of panic, at least for the moment. They had lived to fight another day.
The Sonoran Desert was easy to ride. It was mostly sand and widely spaced clumps of Russian thistle that would become tumbleweeds when they matured and were ready to spread their seeds. There were very few rocks and boulders and they were easy to avoid. The bike was nimble and Gunny was cutting the distance between him and plumes of dust ahead of him. Behind him, the horizon was a massive cloud of churned up sand. The raiders knew they’d gotten out of the trap and they were chasing them again. He pushed the bike, reaching speeds of sixty and seventy miles an hour in the long open stretches. The cloud in front of him had disappeared and within moments he saw the trucks pulled to a stop, waiting for him. Good thing, he had no idea how much gas was left in the bike.
He climbed in with Griz and Stabby, Scratch jumped in with Hollywood and Bridget to act as tail gunner. They were off again within seconds, tearing through the desert, racing for the hardball and a chance to slip away from their pursuers.
17
Lakota
Eustice sat in the Sunshine Café, sipping his coffee, reading the weekly paper and swapping jibes with Thelma. They’d gotten settled in nicely at the RV park on the water and her and Jennifer had taken over the little dentist’s office on main street. Jenny had been a hygienist for years and knew as much as the doctors, even though she didn’t have the diploma to say she did. Thelma had been a receptionist in a doctor’s office and the two already had a full schedule. She’d told Mr. Bastille about the grand opening and he’d talked about it on the radio. She was pleased with her self and it felt good to be back at work, out of her forced retirement.
“That’s why your teeth are so yellow.” she continues admonishing him “You drink entirely too much coffee. You need to make an appointment to get them cleaned. Have you been to see the doctors here? I heard from Rosemarie at the beauty parlor that the truckers have brought in a lot of medicine from some warehouse in Dallas. I’m sure they have the ones you need. That is decaf isn’t it? You know you shouldn’t be drinking regular coffee. And you haven’t commented on my hair, I think she did a fine job on it. Yours is getting l
ong again, you should go see her. Did you hear me? You are drinking decaf, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am.” he lied and turned the page, wishing they had a sports section.
“Well it better be.” she said. “I’m going to make you an appointment for a cleaning next week and if you know what’s good for you, you won’t miss it. Now I’ve got to go. We’re booked solid but I’ll squeeze you in. Mr. Wire Bender is taking appointments over the ham radio too and we’re getting customers from all over.” She stood and stared at him.
“Well?” she asked.
“Well what?”
“My hair.” she said “You didn’t say if you liked the new look.”
Eustice lowered the paper, glanced over the top. Her hair was the same as it had always been ever since he’d known her. Short, gray and spikey. He knew better than to say that, though. He’d been married for nearly forty years before his wife passed. He wasn’t a fool.
“I like it.” he said. “It looks nice. She did a good job.”
Thelma beamed, a bright white smile splitting her deeply tanned face.
“Oh, good.” she said. “Rosemarie didn’t have any smoky silver platinum so we had to settle for titanium gray pearl. I was afraid it would be a shock but it turned out okay.”
“It looks lovely.” Eustice said and went back to his paper, glad he hadn’t asked her what the difference was.
She bustled off to her offices, nodded a hello to young Lieutenant Cobb as he came in and starting thinking about who he should be dating. She’d met a pretty blonde teacher a few days ago when she had volunteered at the school. She’d have to get to work on that, they’d make a nice couple.
“Hey, El Tee.” Eustice said and folded his paper.
“Sergeant Major.” Dani acknowledged. “You ready?”
“Yes sir.” he said and rose, eager to get going. The truckers had located a couple of small airports within a hundred miles, each had a handful of older planes in it. If they had a simple one he knew how to fly, if they could get one fired up, Lakota would have an air force. He’d already been drawing up plans to clear runways and start getting aviation fuel deliveries to all the outposts. The planes he was comfortable with, the old crop dusters and early Cessna’s, were fairly common. They should be able to find enough of them to start training men to fight from the air again. If they could rule the skies, they’d be able to track down Casey’s bandits and that new threat from the north. They had plenty of bombs available from McAlester, the kill crazy cannibals could taste a little death from above. It was the first chance they had to get ground to air radios, too. The Meadows kid said Casey’s men were using them to communicate. They could strip a few of those out, if nothing else.
Zombie Road (Book 5): Terror On The Two-Lane Page 10