Road to Riches: Deadline: Book 1 (Zombie Road)

by Wesley R. Norris

  Ah, Lance McCullough, part time gambler, part time retriever, full time pain in my ass. He had the gall to accuse me of cheating after I trounced his ass thoroughly and won one of his prize pistols off him. I loved a good game, and I didn’t cheat, usually. I did have a knack for knowing what cards were in play and I played straight as long as everyone else was, but if someone wanted to cheat, well I was good at that too.

  “Me and Lance are good. He’s in Lakota pissing away his earnings. As a matter of fact, I’ve sent word for us to meet up when I’m done here. I tossed him a job that even he should be able to pull off as a consolation for the pistol. You know me, I’m always happy to motivate a fellow to get back to work and nothing motivates like being broke.” I grinned.

  She snorted in retort. “Didn’t you come out of New Mexico? Why drive all those miles? I know it wasn’t just to see me. You could have just as easily met this Carter guy in Lakota instead of here.”

  “You know why.” I said. “If this goes sideways, I don’t want Caitlin drug into it. Only a few people outside of Lakota know about her and I want to keep it that way. People talk and I don’t want anyone using her as leverage against me. She’s lost enough, I can’t be the reason something happens to her.”

  She nodded. Maybe it was my imagination, but for an instant there I saw a flash of jealousy before she recovered her cool façade. She lit a cigar and handed it to me, then lit another for herself.

  “Let me know if you hear any rumors, I figure I’ve made this fella wait long enough. Thanks for the drink doll.” I winked and tipped my Stetson at her and headed for the back of the bar. She blew me a kiss, slid the bourbon and glasses back to where they came from before yelling at a bounty hunter to quit drooling on the polished mahogany of her bar top.

  I sized up the man sitting in the booth alone. Impeccably dressed with perfect posture. He was tall with short dark hair, turning grey at the temples. He had one of those faces that was made for punching, a brawler’s face. Someone who could take a hit and hit back harder. I took an instant dislike to him. If he brought up tea and crumpets or cricket and the Queen, I was gonna punch him right in his very punchable face. He sat casually, just another traveler looking to unwind and enjoy his drink, but I noticed his eyes flicker from side to side to take in his surroundings. He’d stationed himself with his back to the wall, close to an exit door. Butcher was right, this was no pencil pusher, but an extremely dangerous man to back into a corner. He had that ex-military vibe about him, probably some form of Spec Ops before the world went to hell. I have nothing but love and respect for the brave men and women who serve the military, but that wasn’t my path. Hell, the closest I came to military service was donating old clothes to the Salvation Army, but I knew his type. There’s just something different about a man that’s been trained to kill without hesitation that sets him apart from the crowd. His expertly tailored suit almost hid the outline of the gun under his arm. Probably a Sig Sauer if I had to guess. It was a favorite amongst his breed. Most people probably wouldn’t have noticed it, but you don’t survive the stuff I’ve survived by failing to notice every little detail about the people around you. I wore my gun on my hip and if things went sour, he’d have the advantage of the draw on me. I slid into the booth opposite him and set my hat on the table.

  He pulled a folder from his attaché case and laid it between us. I reached for it, and he placed his hand over it.

  “Not so fast.” He spoke.

  “You contacted me pal, so let’s cut the shit and tell me what you want. I drove a long way to get here.” I replied. “Nice helicopter by the way, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum are doing a great job of making sure no one steals the hubcaps.”

  “You’re late.” He was all hardass, didn’t crack a smile or show annoyance at my joke. Many long nights of poker games had taught me everyone has their tells and I was looking to get a read on his, so I pushed back.

  “It’s not like whatever you’re wanting is gonna be affected by me taking a few minutes to wash the last five hundred miles of grit and grime from my gullet.” I said. “If that’s a problem, go get it yourself.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong Mr. Rye.” He said with the hint of a smile that never reached his eyes. That look on his face spoke volumes, the kind that said he was holding a handful of aces. He had my full attention now. The son of a bitch was good at dangling the bait, and I was on the hook waiting to be reeled in like the sucker I was. I leaned in towards him.

  “What?” I asked. Not my finest comeback.

  He took his hand off the folder and slid it to me. “I said you are wrong. Every minute does count. This isn’t Mom’s cookbook or pictures from Disneyland. As we speak there are other interested parties negotiating with men like you. Our analysts predict that within ninety-six hours our opponents will be mobilized and heading for the target. I need you to be moving within seventy-two.”

  “Where?” I asked. I knew it was east of the Mississippi somewhere, but that was all.

  He opened the folder to a map. I felt an icy finger of fear run down my spine when I saw where his finger indicated.

  “Jacksonville, Florida.” He pointed at a circle on the map.

  I sat back in my seat. Holy shit. Florida was heavily populated. There would be a few million zombies there. That’s after I crossed most of the United States while trying to avoid all those undead between me and the target zone. I started running routes in my mind. It was doable, maybe. Back road my way into Georgia, find a boat that would still run in one of the small towns somewhere south of Savannah and follow the coast to Jacksonville. Make my moves at night on foot with a good set of night vision. There was no way I could drive into the slaughterhouse that Jacksonville was certain to be. There were two chances of me pulling something off like this. Slim and none. I could work with those odds. Maybe.

  He stared at me like a cat watching a canary. “What’s the matter Mr. Rye? I have to say I’m a little disappointed, I was told you were quite the character. Maybe I have the wrong man.”

  “What’s the target and where exactly is it?” I asked.

  Damn, I was intrigued. If I managed to do this, they’d be singing songs about me in all the bars. Nobody had ventured that far east. There were rumors of pockets of survivors that were doing okay, but they were essentially trapped by tens of millions of undead between them and the relative safety of the west. Among my comrades the Mississippi River was known as the Dead Line, you didn’t cross it if you enjoyed living. Some called it the Gateway to Hell.

  “The Military Enlistment Processing Station. Actually, the DARPA labs located underneath it. Your government was quite clever when it came to hiding their secret research labs. The target is a hard drive and a set of notebooks. The serial number for the hard drive is in here too, along with blueprints for the building. The notebooks are labeled Project 9, there should be a total of six, plain, black three ring binders.” He tapped the folder.

  “Why me? There’s plenty of retrievers you could have hired instead of waiting on me to get here.”

  He averted his eyes for a millisecond, I almost missed it. He didn’t like me, but he needed me. That was the first crack the ice man had shown me. “Our analysts uploaded every bit of available data on every reputable retriever they could find, including transcripts from that abominable radio show and interviews with people who have contracted jobs with your kind. Even after filtering out some of the obvious embellishments of events, your name popped as the most likely to deliver.”

  “Aww, you do like me after all.” I felt some of my bluster returning. I was right, he needed me as badly as I needed the gold, maybe the hand he was holding wasn’t as strong as I’d first thought.

  “Eighteen percent.” He smirked. “The most advanced analytical algorithms in the world gave you an eighteen percent chance of success. It’s a suicide mission, essentially. You’ll probably end up dead or worse, but we have to try. As I said, another party is after the targets and sooner or later s
omeone will succeed. My bosses are counting on your ego and reputation to take the bait. I’m here to dangle the carrot.”

  “I’ve dealt with worse odds.” I lied. “It’s gonna cost you. One hundred thousand in gold. Half now, half on delivery.”

  “No.” He said. “Payment in full on delivery. Take the deal, it’s not negotiable. For the sake of full disclosure, I must warn you there will be opposition from the other party to stop you. Rest assured however, we will be taking counter measures of our own to slow or derail our opposition’s efforts to try and increase your lead. Our resources are somewhat limited, so you’ll have to deal with anyone who gets in your way on your own.”

  I read between the lines of his statement. There was no shortage of bandits and outlaws that could be hired to ambush a retriever and if I took the job, I could guarantee the opposition would try to do the same to me. Not only would I be eyeball deep in the dead across the river, but I’d also probably have to fight my way through ambushes on this side too. I pushed the odds to the back of my mind, one hundred thousand was a lot of coin.

  Horowitz, the man that ran the Tower had a reputation as a man who got what he wanted. There was no telling what was at stake here, but it was mighty important to at least two groups of people. Me, I was more curious about who the other buyer was. To my knowledge, the Tower was the last standing facility that retained technology.

  “Who’s the other party?” I asked.

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss the other party, but it’s really none of your concern. It’s irrelevant to the job at hand. You will be our representative; they will have their own. If we come into the knowledge of their retriever, it will be passed on to you. My advice, trust no one and shoot first.”

  “I think I’ll pass. I don’t work that way. I need all the intel, or you can find another sucker.” I pushed him just a little harder, I’d already convinced myself I was going. I just wanted to see what else he would divulge. I didn’t like not having all the information. That kind of thing could get you killed.

  “Let me make it plain, we aren’t negotiating. I’ve dangled the carrot, now it’s time to show you the stick. I’m sure that Caitlin will be thrilled to hear that you aren’t going, but it would probably be disappointing to that band of kids you are so fond of though when they find out you ran from a job. Gage, Jim, Lizzy and a lad named Booger, I believe they are called?” He asked.

  I almost lost it then. I was caught off guard by his threat. White, hot rage filled me and before I knew it, my hand dipped to the holstered gun on my hip. His hand was already under his jacket, the Sig gripped tightly. He was fast, I’ll give him that. I never saw his hand move. It was all I could do not to take my chances anyway and try to gun the son of a bitch down where he sat. My heart pounded at his words. They already knew about Caitlin and my preteen pals in Lakota. He probably had people on them already. That meant he’d also had people watching me. He’d been playing me all along, I never had a choice. My fate was sealed when I walked through the door.

  “We gave you an eighteen percent success rate. No one else we considered rated over thirteen percent. There’s no one better for the job than you and even if there was, there’s no time. You are gonna take this job and get me what I want. If you die, you damned well better make sure you take your competition out with you. You can walk away but I’m warning you, if that tech falls into any other hands but ours, your pretty little girlfriend will be getting a visit from Burch. One call and you’ll never see her again.” His voice was flat and emotionless. This guy had ice water in his veins. I decided I hated him.

  When he said that one name, I knew how high the stakes were and how far they were willing to go. Burch was a ghost. I wasn’t even sure if he was real or just at tall tale started by a drunken storyteller. Rumor was that he was a killer of men, women, and children, didn’t matter. No one even knew what he looked like. Some said he was a sad faced black man; others described him as an unassuming older white man who looked like a mall Santa. No one really knew how to get hold of him, but somehow word made it to his ears, and the target died or disappeared without a trace.

  I stared hard at him through the slits of my eyes. Everything in me was screaming kill him and take my chances. It wasn’t just about me now though. Killing him now would have repercussions. I had people I cared about, people who were easy to find. People who would be in danger if I didn’t rein in my temper and get this asshole what he wanted. He might be holding the better hand now, but I’d be looking for a way to turn the tables on him.

  “Retriever, that’s a funny term to me. Is it like a chocolate Labrador or one of those beautiful golden dogs? If I toss a ball you go get it like a good boy?” He was goading me. Seeing just how far he could push me. His hands were back on the table now, confident he was still faster than me on the draw.

  “Yeah, just like that.” I said with a growl. My hand was on the still holstered .45. I knew if I cleared leather, I could probably kill him, maybe his bodyguards and anybody else that got in my way, until someone saw the opportunity to put a bullet in the back of my skull to try and collect a reward on me for killing one of the Tower big wheels. The place had grown quiet, our exchange had drawn the attention of the others like chum draws sharks. It was so quiet I could hear the squeak of the out of balance ceiling fan rotating lazily from the ceiling. Hard eyed men and women stared in our direction, waiting in anticipation for the hammer to drop, for one of us to make a move they could exploit. If I took a bullet, my body and vehicle would be looted before my corpse was cold. A couple of them might have my back, for others it would come down to which option would put the most gold in their pockets. Remember that moral flexibility I mentioned? I had to maintain control over my emotions, rein in my temper before this whole place turned into a slaughterhouse. There would be a time and a place to deal with this asshole, but this wasn’t it. I relaxed my grip on the .45.

  “Well, fetch boy.” He waved his hand dismissively.

  I stood, settled my hat on my head, snatched up the folder and turned my back to him. “You be ready to pay me my gold when I get back. After the business is done, we’ll settle up. I don’t take threats to my people lightly.”

  He stood and straightened his cuffs. “I don’t make them lightly. I’ll be here Mr. Rye, if and when you want to play for blood.”

  4

  Queen of Hearts

  Lakota, OK

  I drove through the night and most of the following morning after the meeting with Carter. I’d shunned Butcher’s offer of a room on the house. The urge to slip and slit Carter’s throat while he was asleep would have been too strong. It was a thousand miles from Tombstone to Lakota, I barely registered their passing and made the drive in record time.

  The trucks that moved livestock between the settlements did a good job of keeping the roads clear of abandoned cars and undead. I’d already been awake over thirty hours, and I was tired, but knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep, I was too pissed off. There wasn’t time to rest anyway, I needed to be gone by the following morning and there was a lot to do before then. Supplies, information, heavy weapons, the list grew in my mind. Best estimates gave me a twenty-four-hour lead over the opposition’s retriever, if I could trust a damned thing that fucker had told me. I wondered who it was. Was my opposition in the same situation as me? Forced into taking a job with such a low chance for success. There couldn’t be but a handful of people who’d attempt something like this. Charlie Safari, I’d lay even odds on him. Penny the Stitch was crazy enough to try something like this. Another possibility was William Griffin, he took high risk jobs in his suped-up Baja truck, but last I heard he was laid up with a bullet wound after mixing it up with a bunch of slavers trying to kidnap young women from the reservation. I racked my brain for an answer. I knew a lot of people in the business and if I had an idea of who’d be dogging my tail, it might give me some useful insight into the competition and a means to nudge them off the playing field. I tamped down my anger, I nee
ded to turn that energy to something useful.

  After a spirited discussion with the guard at the gates I was finally in Lakota. I owed him fifty bucks from my last trip here, after I bet on the wrong cockroach to cross the finish line. Don’t judge me, entertainment is where you find it. Anyway, my roach was content to run in circles like a toddler jacked up on caffeine and chocolate, while the other ones ran in a more or less straight line down the sheet of plywood that passed for a racetrack. I promised him the debt I owed him and drinks on me if he wanted to meet me at the Old Goat Saloon when I made it back. Hopefully, I could get him drunk enough to double or nothing bet my way out of his debt and put a little more money in my own pocket. Again, don’t judge me.

  He pulled an empty Skoal can from his shirt pocket and eased back the perforated lid to reveal the wriggling antennae of his prize-winning cockroach. “Look at that beauty Rye, he’s undefeated. Ain’t another one anywhere like him.”

  I feigned interest in the bug. He was a massive, nasty looking thing. “He’s a real beaut, Earl. What will you take for him?”

  Earl spit a stream of tobacco juice onto the pavement and slipped the Skoal can back into his pocket protectively, “Jerry Lee ain’t for sale, Rye. You wouldn’t know anything about taking care of a thoroughbred like him anyways. They gots needs a drifter like you wouldn’t understand.”

  “You’re probably right.” It was a damned cockroach, the hardest thing on the planet to kill. I slapped him on the shoulder and climbed back into the Jeep.

  “Don’t forget my money. Find you a bug, I’ll give you a rematch.” He hollered at me as I pulled through the gate.

  “Sure thing Earl.” I tossed him a wave out the window. Given half a chance I’d get old Earl good and snookered, pull a couple of Jerry Lee’s legs off to slow him down, then clean Earl out. I’m pretty sure cockroach legs grow back, don’t they?