Dead Texas (Book 4): The Journey West Read online

  A few dozen zombies sprinted down the main road, making a beeline for the cluster of guards. They opened fire, but the undead didn’t slow in the least. One of the guards panicked and threw open the door to go inside, and Rufus took him down, dropping his body into a perfect doorjamb.

  The other guards backed up and tried to get their fallen comrade inside, but Rufus’ fire slowed them down enough that the zombie horde was able to overtake the opening. He grinned and gave Sparks a thumbs-up. She returned it and they watched from their respective vantage points as the zombies poured into the building. There were screams and gunshots from within.

  As the last corpse pushed inside, Rufus darted back to the ladder and slid down to the ground, drawing his handgun as he his the asphalt. He snaked around to the front of the building, taking stock of the bodies littering the ground. He moved cautiously across the street, keeping his gun trained on the open door. He peeked in.

  Zombies lined the stairs, trying to reach the survivors on the second floor. Rufus kicked the door jamb body inside and slammed it shut, latching it. At Sparks’ whistle, he looked up at her, and she signaled for him to cover her. He moved towards the secondary building, holding up a hand. He stood at the corner, keeping an eye on the windows across from her as she moved to her own ladder.

  One of the windows shattered and a rifle barrel appeared.

  Without hesitation, Rufus leapt into the street and unloaded the entire clip of his handgun into the window. The gun slumped and dangled before jerking back inside. He reloaded and kept his gun aimed at that window until Sparks stepped up next to him.

  “Did you get him?” she asked.

  “Well I got somebody,” he replied, “but there’s at least one other person in there. No way that asshole was gonna be able to pull that gun back in on his own.”

  “What do you say, tag team partner?” She grinned. “Wanna go introduce ourselves to them?”

  He nodded with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh yeah, let’s finish it!”

  They jogged over to the door and took positions on either side. He reached over and turned the knob, flinging the door open but ducking back out to cover. A few shots rang out, but they just hit the swinging door.

  Rufus peeked inside. There was a single man on the stairs struggling with his gun. “He’s reloading, go!” He jumped in and fired twice, causing the man to duck down. Sparks darted in to the left, flanking the enemy as Rufus drew his attention to the right.

  The man finally reloaded and started shooting at the metal shelving that the older man dove behind. Sparks knelt in the opposite corner and took aim, taking out a significant chunk of their opponent’s torso with her hunting rifle.

  “Rufus, you good?” she barked.

  He jumped out from behind the shelving. “Yeah, that motherfucker couldn’t shoot for shit!” He brushed himself off as they converged at the base of the stairs, handguns at the ready.

  Sparks led the way up the stairs, gently nosing open the dark office doors open as they moved along the hallway. All of the rooms were clear, until she heard a shuffle behind the door at the end.

  She held up three fingers and counted down. At zero, she and Rufus burst into the room, ready to shoot. They froze at the sight of a young man cowering in the corner with his hands in the air. He was covered in blood, seemingly the blood of his friend slumped beneath the window.

  Rufus kicked the kid’s rifle away and gave him a pat down. “He’s clean,” he said to Sparks, and then stepped back. “You keep your hands where we can see ‘em.”

  “Yes, yes sir,” the kid stammered.

  The older man crossed his arms. “What’s your name?”

  “It’s…” His voice cracked into a sob. “It’s Brandon.”

  Rufus nodded. “So, Brandon, where’s the Sheriff?”

  “He’s next door,” the kid replied.

  The older man cocked his gun. “You wouldn’t be lyin’ to us, now would ya?”

  “No, no!” Brandon cried. “He’s in the building next door! I swear!” He pointed to the walkie-talkie on the table. “He-he just called a minute ago asking for help…”

  Rufus glanced at the table. “Did he, now?”

  The radio crackled.

  “Goddammit!” the Sheriff yelled through the receiver. “Is anybody there? We need assistance!”

  Sparks grabbed the radio. “Do you have family here in town?” she asked as she walked to the trembling kid.

  “Y-yes,” Brandon stammered.

  “Respond,” she instructed, and handed him the walkie-talkie. “Ask him what his situation is. And just keep in mind that if you alert him to our presence, your family will be our next visit.”

  He took a deep breath and nodded jerkily. “This is Brandon.” He cleared his throat. “What’s your situation.”

  “Thank fucking Christ,” the Sheriff replied. “We need help, where are you?”

  “You can tell him you’re next door,” Sparks said.

  The kid nodded. “I’m right next door to you, sir.”

  “Have the intruders been eliminated?” came the reply, and Sparks nodded.

  “Yes sir,” Brandon confirmed. “I was able to take them down. But they got the others.”

  “Good job man,” the Sheriff replied with a sigh. “I don’t think I know you too well but after that I’m going to promote the hell out of you, son. Now I’m gonna need some help before I can do that, though. You think you’re up to it?”

  Brandon took a deep breath. “Yes sir, what can I do?”

  “Well, look son,” the Sheriff began, “there’s a few of us trapped in the command office. There’s about thirty of those things outside the door, and we can’t get through the bars on the window to get out. Now, there’s some trucks outside the hangar that have some tools in them. You think you can get over there and grab some crowbars or something out of the back?”

  “Yeah, I can do that, sir,” the kid said. “Give me just a few minutes and I’ll be right over.”

  “That’s my boy, Brandon!” At the Sheriff’s triumph, Sparks grabbed the radio and tossed it to Rufus.

  “You did good, kid,” she said, and aimed her gun at him. “Now Brandon, this is normally when I would put a bullet in you before being on my way, but I’m not going to do that.”

  He immediately relaxed, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Oh thank you, thank you!”

  “Quiet.” Rufus put a finger to his lips. “The lady ain’t done talkin’ yet.”

  “Now, just so there’s no misunderstanding,” Sparks continued, “I’m not sparing you out of mercy, or because you have a family, or any of that nonsense. I’m sparing you because I need you to deliver a message. Sooner or later, Sheriff Hutch from Junction is going to make his way down here, and it’s going to be your job to convince him to cut his losses and not pursue us. Do you think you can do that?”

  “Yes, yes, I will tell him that!” Brandon nodded furiously.

  “You’re going to need to do more than simply tell him,” she emphasized. “You are going to have to convince him to stand down. Because if anybody from this town or Junction come within ten miles of us, my friend and I will come back to finish what we’ve started. And there will be no mercy next time, no survivors to tell the tale, no more warnings. We will wipe this town and every one of its inhabitants off the face of the earth. Have I made myself clear?”

  Brandon nodded so hard he looked like a bobblehead doll. “Yes ma’am, I will convince him to stand down and you’ll never see any of us again.”

  Sparks holstered her weapon. “Good boy, Brandon. Good boy. Now, you’re going to sit here and count to a thousand before leaving this room. Think you can handle that?”

  He continued his frenzied nodding and the duo turned to leave.

  “More whiskey?” Rufus asked as he picked up a bottle from the table. “Man, you guys know how to party, huh?”

  “Junction sent us a liquor store truck a couple days ago, so there’s been plenty to go aro
und,” Brandon piped up.

  The older man grinned. “Well, if that’s the case, you won’t mind if I take a couple bottles, huh?”

  “The truck is parked outside the hangar with the utility trucks,” the kid replied. “Please, help yourself.”

  “I believe we will,” Rufus said. “You can start counting now.”

  Sparks led the way out of the building as Rufus stuffed a tattered rag into the mouth of the whiskey bottle.

  “The hangar is this way, my dear,” he said and motioned to the left.

  She nodded. “Well, let’s go get us a truck and get up on outta here.”

  “Get up on outta here?” Rufus laughed. “Am I starting to rub off on you, girl?”

  She failed to stifle a smile. “Yeah, just a bit I suppose.”

  “Brandon,” the Sheriff’s voice crackled over the radio. “How’s it coming there, bud? We aren’t gonna be able to hold this door forever.”

  “Oh yeah, nearly forgot,” Rufus said, and held out the molotov. “Would you care to do the honors?”

  She took the bottle and bowed her head. “It would be my pleasure.” She pulled her lighter and set the cloth ablaze, then hucked it up through the window of the zombie-infested building.

  “Brandon!” the Sheriff cried. “What the fuck is going on? Is that smoke?”

  Rufus wiggled the walkie-talkie. “Looks like we have our very own radio show to listen to on our drive,” he said.

  Sparks grinned. “Sounds like it’s going to be interesting.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Ricky’s snores gave soundtrack to Mary and Jeff watching the sunset, sitting on the back gate of the transport truck.

  “You doing okay?” the skinhead asked, happy to be back in his own clothes as he nursed a lukewarm beer he’d found.

  She sighed. “I told you, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I get it, but if you need it, I have an ear for you,” he assured her.

  “Appreciated.” She continued to stare up at the stars. “You think Sparks and Rufus are gonna make it?”

  Jeff took a long draught of his beer. “I’ve ran in gangs and been in prison, and I’ve never met a harder, tougher, son of a bitch in my life. And with Rufus backing her up, they are gonna be just fine.” He emptied his bottle and then tossed it in the ditch before hopping down to the asphalt. “Well, they’re warm as shit, but at least they’re beer. Can I grab you one?”

  “I don’t know if I’m in the mood for one,” she replied.

  “Trust me, after the day you’ve had, you need a beer,” he said and pointed at her. “I’ll be right back.

  “Thanks, Jeff,” she said quietly, and took a deep breath. She caught a glimpse of headlights down the road, and grabbed her gun. “We have company!”

  He darted back around the truck, weapon drawn, and the two of them raised their guns as the vehicle approached. The headlights flashed twice and the pickup slowed to a stop about ten feet away.

  Rufus hopped out of the passenger’s side. “What’s with the standoff shit? Y’all expectin’ somebody else?”

  Mary smiled and ran up to give Sparks a hug as the redhead jumped down from the driver’s side.

  “Where’s Ricky?” the police officer asked, eyes wide.

  “He’s in the cab,” Jeff replied as he patted Rufus on the back. “He took a round to the shoulder, but he’ll be alright.”

  “Yeah, we found some meds in the truck so I got him bandaged up pretty good,” Mary added. “Our biggest concern is going to be listening to him bitch about it for the next few weeks while it heals.”

  “How did y’all fare?” Jeff asked. “We have to worry about any retaliation?”

  Rufus shook his head. “At the moment we outnumber them, so I think we should be good.”

  “Goddamn, y’all don’t fuck around, do you?” The skinhead blinked at the duo.

  “Well, she made me her tag team partner,” the older man declared. “So I felt obligated to live up to the mantle.”

  Mary raised an eyebrow. “Tag team partner?”

  “Man, that’s awesome!” Jeff cried. “Y’all come up with a name yet?”

  Sparks winked. “Leaving that one up to Rufus.”

  “You know, I’ve thought about it, and I think Generational Kill has a nice cold-blooded ring to it.” He grinned and puffed his chest out.

  She smiled and punched his arm playfully. “Generational Kill it is, then.”

  “So, with that out of the way,” Jeff cut in. “Only other question left to answer is, where the hell do we go from here?”

  “Should be another exit a few miles up,” Sparks replied. “We can pull off there and drive down the backroads to see if we can find a place. Almost no population out in these parts, but with some luck we’ll find a spot to call our own. Bound to be someone who wanted to live off the grid.”

  Jeff nodded. “Mary, you want to lead or follow?”

  “Sparks, I think I speak for everyone when I say: you lead and we shall follow,” Mary said, raising her hands.

  The redhead nodded. “Alright then,” she said. “Saddle up, and let’s go find us a home.”

  EPILOGUE

  Day Zero, 9:13 PM EST

  General Adams sat in his office at the Pentagon and rubbed his eyes. He’d been staring at his computer screen for far too long. He straightened as somebody knocked on the door.

  “Enter,” he said.

  An officer poked his head in. “Sir, there is a John Teeter here to see you.”

  “Show him in,” Adams replied with a wave of his hand.

  A short and slight man with graying hair wandered inside and took a seat. “Adams, good to see you again,” he greeted, voice soft.

  “You too, John,” the Joint Chiefs head replied. “How’s civilian life?”

  “Loving every last second of it.” John smiled. “Amazing what I can get accomplished when I don’t have twelve layers of bullshit bureaucracy weighing me down.”

  Adams sighed. “I’ll cut to the chase,” he said. “I could use your help.”

  “Did you miss the part about me enjoying life without bureaucracy?” his old friend countered.

  “There’s a situation in Austin,” the General continued. “Eight hours ago, we got word that a bio-terrorist potentially launched an attack. In the hours since, we’ve lost pretty much all contact with the city, and the little bit of info we do have doesn’t paint a pretty picture.”

  John leaned forward. “Tell me what you know.”

  “Around eleven AM local time, our teams raided the compound,” Adams explained. “Thirty minutes later, the hostile zone protocol was activated. Shortly after that, we lost contact with the team.”

  “Boots on the ground?” John raised his eyebrows. “Eye in the sky? Surely you know something?”

  “Local outlets were describing a riot that originated on the UT campus, but shortly after that they went dark too,” Adams replied with a shake of his head. “We did a flyover and it looks like something is going down in the city, but we don’t know what yet.”

  There was a sudden commotion in the hallway, complete with lots of shouting.

  “I need to speak with General Adams immediately!” a woman shrieked, voice muffled, and the General stood up.

  “What the hell?” he muttered, and crossed the office to open the door. The door guards restrained a young woman with wild eyes.

  She stopped struggling upon seeing Adams. “Sir, please, I have info-”

  “I told you that the General is busy,” one of the guards grunted.

  “What’s going on?” Adams boomed, and even with his salt-and-pepper hair, he still pulled rank, and everyone stood at attention.

  “I’m sorry sir, the Private attempted to get into your office,” the other guard said quickly.

  “Because I have vital information!” She growled.

  The guard scoffed. “File it with your C.O.-”

  “It’s okay,” Adams said. “Private, what do you have
?”

  “I think I know what’s going on in Austin, sir,” she replied.

  He clenched his jaw. “John, walk with us.” He waved for his companion to follow her as well and she led them to a small communications room. She sat down at her post and plugged in a set of headphones.

  “We’ve been searching for any trace of credible information we can on Austin, but so far we’ve only found scraps,” she said. “At first, we thought they were only hoax videos since it looked like zombies were attacking.”

  “Zombies?” John blurted. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, we said the same thing, too,” she replied. “It was mostly college kids posting them, so we didn’t think anything of it. Until I got this.” She plugged in a second pair of headphones and handed each of the men a set. “This came in on the hostile zone protocol a few minutes ago. We picked it up from a college radio station in San Marcos, which is just south of Austin. It’s long, but here’s the key part.”

  “Three days ago there was a bio-terrorism attack in Austin that sickened a lot of people,” a female voice drawled through the earpieces, “and has turned them into the zombies that you have no doubt encountered. We don’t know a lot about the virus, but I will share what I know. It is airborne, and it targets everyone with an A-Blood type.”

  Adams tore off the headphones and pointed to one of the other communication staffers. “You, get on the line to the Secret Service, tell them it’s a code red. The rest of you, pack up your things right now, we’re headed to the Presidential Bunker.”

  “It’s a good call, Adams,” John agreed. “An airborne virus is nothing to fuck with, even without the zombie side effects.”

  The General nodded. “Don’t suppose I could convince you to take an impromptu contractor position?”

  “We can negotiate my rate later,” his friend replied, “just know that I’m not going to put up with any bureaucratic nonsense.”

  Adams clenched his jaw. “If this thing is as serious as it appears, I’m counting on you to cut through it.”