Archive for the ‘NATION BETRAYED’ Category

Will Edmonds sipped from a cup of steaming coffee as he looked over the pine and oak forested valley stretching out before him.  “How’s your family settling in, Randy?”

Randy shrugged.  “Cassie hasn’t moved the boxes of books from the door. Aunt Wilma is worried sick about my cousin.  The last time she talked to Tate she was in San Antonio waiting for a load.”

“She’s in the middle of the shit storm, right along with my daughter and her family.” He sighed then continued.  “All we can do is pray they got out in time and are now headed this way.”

“Tate’s tough.”  Randy chuckled.  “She used to kick my ass, when I was a kid.  Last time I saw her, I told her if the shit-hits-the-fan, head this way. I tried to tell her what happen on that last mission, but I just couldn’t talk about it back then.  I was pretty messed up and those quacks at the VA didn’t help by telling me I was crazy and throwing pills at me.”

Will laid his hand on Randy’s shoulder.  “I know.  No one would believe anyone would want to reanimate the dead a few days ago, much less three years ago.”

“Well, they fucking believe me now.”  Randy railed. “I told ‘em.  My team ended up like those walking dead fuckers. I had to put five men down.” His breath caught and his hands began to shake.

“Let it go Randy. Being angry now won’t make a difference and we got family to protect.  My daughter and her family and your cousin will get here and we have to be ready.  With a little luck more of our friends will arrive soon. We need to be ready.”

“Yeah.  You’re right.  Gotta let it go.”  Randy closed his eyes then took a deep cleansing breath. When he opened his eyes, his hands had grown steady again and face relaxed.

“Will your cousin know to come here?” Will asked.

Randy shrugged. “I think so, but really I don’t know.  She would want to find her mother and sister. I think she would come if she knew about Houston. What about your daughter. It would be a hard trek for a woman and two kids.”

“I know, but I’m hoping Brian is with them or maybe even other soldiers from the base to help protect them coming west.” Will sighed.  “Let’s get the day started.  You want some coffee.”

“I’m good, thanks. Aunt Wilma made me breakfast, this morning. Said a man ain’t worth much without a good breakfast.” Randy laughed.  “Cassie offered to help me work on the drawbridge. Sure could use Juan’s help. When do you expect him and Elaina to roll in?”

Will shrugged.  “Who knows? I’m going to use the small front end loader to extend the last hundred yards of the gully back to the south wall of the canyon.  With that done, the cattle guard will be the only access across the gap. I figure we can start unrolling the barbed wire on this side of the ravine then.”

“With the cattle guard rigged as a drawbridge it’ll limit access to this side of the canyon.  I need to get back to it this morning.  I’m going to take the welder down to the crossing and finish assembling the counter-weight system.”  Randy laughed.  “A ten year old will be able to raise and lower the gate when I get done.”

“I’m lucky to have you here Randy.  We’ll have to worry about looters when supplies run low for the folks leaving the cities.” Will stated.

“Hopefully, won’t be many people come up this way.  Not many people even know about this place.  It was abandoned for years before you came out here.”

Will shrugged.  “True, but when people start looking for a safe place to hide out, a few hunter types is bound to remember an isolated hunting lodge like this.  We can support a small community but I would like to have a say in who that includes.  With all the Juniper and Ponderosa Pine on the high ridges we could eventually build even more than the twelve cabins to house families.”

“Creating those watering holes up in the hills a few years back sure has increased the wild life around here.  I even saw a few wild horses the other day.” Randy commented.

“Yeah.  Maybe we’ll run across some stray cattle if we get a chance to search some of the open range. For now, our focus is security and that means digging the trench and getting the bridge operational.”

Randy shrugged.  “Well, I’m going to get another cup of coffee then Cassie and I’ll head out.  I did ask Aunt Wilma if she’d go to the lodge and fix our dinner and she said she would.  We still have some venison from the deer we killed yesterday.”

“I’ve been thinking.  I know the cabin you’re living in is big enough, but I’d like to have you move up to the lodge.  It doesn’t have to be today, but in the next couple days.  It’ll be safer for everyone.”

“You’ll want your family to live there when they get here.” Randy protested.

“Yeah, but when they do show up there’ll still be plenty of room and I don’t fancy strangers in the lodge with me and mine.  Besides, I’d like the guns in one place.”

“I guess you’re right.” Randy answered.  “I’ll talk to them, but I don’t see a problem.”

“Well, for now we got a lot to do to protect this place.”  Will mumbled as he walked away. “Be sure to pick up the two-way radio on the front desk.”

Wilma Hamilton stepped into the Lodge and glanced around.  So now the lodge was going to be their home.  They were safe, because of Randy and this strange man but she wasn’t sure she liked the new living arrangements.

That night both she and her daughter, Cassie, had watched the horror of the attacks at the military base unfold on the television.  The news programs grew more and more frightening.  She and Cassie discussed loading up the car and leaving, but after spending hours trapped in traffic before Hurricane Rita, they were afraid it would more of the same. People died trying to escape a hurricane that didn’t even show up. Wilma was afraid they would get trapped and overtaken in Cassie’s little Prius.

Randy had arrived like a storm at midnight.  He told them they had twenty minutes to pack whatever they wanted to take because they wouldn’t be coming back.  He backed up his big truck and loaded whatever Wilma or Cassie could carry out of the house.

Wilma insisted on her portable sewing machine, trunks of fabric and sewing supplies.  When Randy announced enough, she packed two bags of clothes.  With the time left, she emptied canned goods from the kitchen into a laundry basket and grabbed a large blue enamel pot with all her canning supplies.  She hurried to the garage and retrieved six boxes of assorted sizes of canning jars.

Cassie spent her time packing up her laptop, printer and paper supplies.  She pulled quilts from the beds and linens from the hall closet.  It took a bit of convincing to get Randy to load the massive cedar chest from Cassie’s room, but with it headed for the truck she packed her own clothes then cleared the bathrooms and cabinets of shampoos and OTC medications.

When Randy ushered them out of the small house in West Houston, it looked like a storm had hit the inside.  They got in the truck and Randy cranked the diesel engine.  He headed west on the back streets and ended on the narrow two-lane blacktop roads that wound through country roads through southwest Texas.  Randy drove finally stopped in Dryden at a fast food place that still had Internet access.

Cassie sent an email to her sister then used the computer to pull up news programs and social media to see accounts of attacks that began on the southeast side of Houston and rolled over the city like a wave.  She tried calling and texting her sister but cell service was sketchy at best this far from the big city.

Della tapped on the door of Steve’s motel room still dressed in an oversized t-shirt and boxers.

“Military is here.”  Della announced from outside the door. “You have to see this.”

“Calm down, give me a minute.”  Steve slid into the wheel chair and rolled to the door and opened it. He tried to ignore her shapely dark legs and tried to concentrate on what she was saying.   He looked toward the sound of heavy trucks and roaring engines.

“I think we need to be careful.” Announced.

“What do you mean?  It’s soldiers.”  Della argued.

“Why here?”  He pulled her inside and called over his shoulder at Zack.  “Up and at ‘em, Zack.”

Steve pulled the curtains closed and he turned to Della.  “This is out in the middle of nowhere.  Why would the military send troops here?”

Della looked puzzled.  “Well, I don’t know.”

“Exactly.  This small community is not strategic in any way at all.  Following that train of thought, I’m worried they’re not under orders.  If that’s the case, they’re not here for the benefit of this community.”

Zack sat up and looked around.  His eyes found Steve and Della and chuckled.  “Got some good looking legs there, Ms Della.”

Della rolled her eyes.  “So, what are you saying?”

“I think we need to be careful until we know what’s going on with the military.”  Steve advised as he let Della out the door.

They all dressed and made their way to the school for breakfast.  After a scowl from Della, Steve opted not using his prosthetics.  The wheelchair caused a few interested glances from the new arrivals in uniform.  The community was a buzz of activity and rife with speculation about the arrival of the military.

From gossip outside the cafeteria, they learned the officer leading the unit had insisted on a meeting with the city council at the city hall.  The impromptu meeting was organized and now the town civilian authorities were behind doors with the officer in charge. The rest of the soldiers looked around as if expecting trouble. Steve noticed the military vehicles were parked in a defensive formation around the town hall intensifying his unease.

Della, Steve, and Zack entered the cafeteria and got trays.  Once settled at a table and eating, they noticed soldiers take up posts at each of the exits.  They ate quickly keeping watch around the room.

“Something doesn’t feel right.”  Della announced.

“You’re right.  Let’s get outta here.” Steve backed his chair from table and headed for the door with both Della and Zack in tow.

As they walked past the table where Sandy was sitting with the two young women she had been staying with, Della stopped.  “We’re meeting at the motel,”  She glanced around pointedly.  “to discuss the latest development.”

“No thanks.  It doesn’t matter what you have going on.  I’m staying here.  I have friends now.  It’s safe.  No way would I even consider leaving here.”  Sandy answered.

Della cringed at the tirade.  “Please keep your voice down.”

“Fine.”  Sandy looked annoyed.  “I have no intentions of going anywhere until the soldiers say I can go home.  End of story.  I’m not your responsibility and you can’t make me do anything I don’t want to.”

Della squared her shoulders.  “That’s fine, Sandy.  If you change your mind, just come see us, sooner rather than later.”  She hurried after Steve and Zack standing at the door.

As she approached she caught the ongoing conversation.

Steve glared at the soldier stationed at the door.  “Excuse me?  What do you mean we have to stay here?”

“The Major’s request.”  The soldier answered. “He’d like everyone to stick around and be available when he finishes his meeting with the powers that be.  He plans on a formal announcement at eleven this morning.”

Steve looked annoyed.  “I’ll tell you what.  I need to rest.  We had a bad time getting here.  Della is my nurse and Zack, my man Friday.  Are you holding a disabled veteran prisoner?”

“Of course not, sir.” The soldier looked uncomfortable.

“We’ll come back shortly before eleven.”

The soldier looked uncomfortable but finally agreed. “Be back before eleven or it will be my ass.”

Della started to speak as they walk out of the building, but Steve held up his hand.

At the motel, they heard harried voices through the open window.

“Why?”  Millie asked.

“We have to get outta here.  They came into the clinic and gathered everyone’s keys for the pharmacy. I was in the back room doing inventory when they came in.  They were talking about going from house to house to confiscate all medications and taking control of ALL resources, food, gas, everything.  I emptied all of the heart meds you need in my pocket then snuck out.” Darlene answered.

“Oh my.”  Millie responded. “You’re going to get in trouble.”

“No.  We’re leaving.”  Ordered Darlene from the bathroom. “Penny put all your clothes in the plastic bag.”

Steve rolled through the door and raised his voice.  “Darlene? Could we talk for a minute?”

“Just a minute.”  She called out.

He whispered to Della.  “Start packing.”

He turned to Zack. “Where is the truck?”

“Out back.  I put it there to get it out of the afternoon sun since we still have some of our supplies in it.”

“Good.  Get out there and load supplies when Della passes our stuff out the back window. I’ll gather our clothes and do the same.” Steve reached for his prosthetics in the bag at the back of the chair.  He slid the right prosthetic on the stump of his lower leg.

Darlene walked up to Steve and glanced over his should out to the courtyard.  She looked even more worried when she saw the soldiers crossing the road outside the town hall.

“I’ve only got a minute.”

“We’re leaving too.  Do you have gas?”  Steve asked.

“Only a quarter of a tank, but we can’t stay.” She dipped her hand into her pocket and spilled hundreds of small white pills into a large brown plastic bottle.

“I heard what you said.”  Steve responded.  “I think you have a good grasp of what’s going to happen.  We’re leaving too. The truck is diesel and an extended cab so we have room your family.”

“I’m not leaving Millie.”  Darlene protested.

“I wouldn’t think of it.”  Steve answered.

Pack up and drop your things through the back window.  Zack is in back and will load it into the pickup.  As soon as we’re ready, we’re loading up and leaving.  Leave a few odd pieces of clothing around so if someone comes along and looks in the room it doesn’t look like your planning on leaving.”

“We have to hurry.  They plan on confiscating all the guns at this big meeting.”  When Steve nodded, she disappeared back into her and Millie’s room.

He stood up from the chair and walked into the motel room and loaded up all the weapons in a canvas bag and passed it through the window.  Just as he turned to reach for a pair of pants to add to bag on his lap a voice called out.

“Sir? It’s almost eleven and you folks need to get to the square for the meeting.”

Steve turned.  “No problem, soldier.  I’m just finishing up a little housekeeping. Living in a motel room is not ideal for sure.” He grinned.

“Not my problem.  Get the two women and fat kid and get moving.”

“Got it.  We’ll be right there.”

The soldier moved from door to door and made the same speech then moved to the back of the building to ensure the residents move out.

All the able bodied residents moved more quickly and when the soldier saw Steve, again in the wheel chair and old black woman were headed in the right direction with their caregivers, he walked away.  Darlene held Penny’s hand and joined Steve’s group.  Steve let Millie set the pace leaving them falling farther and farther behind the hundreds of folks gathering at the town hall.  He stopped everyone at the edge of the square as far from the gathering as possible.

Two strutting military men stood on the top steps of the town hall along with Tony and half a dozen civilian.  Tony looked shell shocked.  He stole glances at the Major as if he were looking at a rattlesnake ready to strike.  The other civilians looked no easier at being in the company of the military.

Della leaned down to whisper to Steve. “This doesn’t look good.”

Steve got out of the chair and gentle guided Millie into the wheelchair.  Together the group of six began to ease back from the gathering into the shadow of a big spreading oak.  The soldiers had gravitated toward the front of the gather of nearly three hundred people gathered.

The Major stepped up to a portable public address system. “The President of the United States has imposed congressionally authorized martial law for the duration of this crisis. The authorizing act allows the President to suspend habeas corpus throughout the entire United States.

There have been instances of the use of the military law within the borders of the United States, such as during the civil rights crises in the 50’s. As of this enactment, there will be no distinction between martial law and military justice administered by the military and as such takes precedence and all civil courts will cease to function for the duration of this crisis.

Guards will be posted throughout the community, and all assets will be consolidated for appropriate redistribution by the military and to discourage hoarding. The assets to be collected by this order will include all fuel, food stock, liquors, medications, weapons and ammunition to ensure proper distribution.  Military personnel and/or military authorized individuals will take any and all actions to ensure infected individuals do not enter the secure perimeters.

Work details will be established and everyone, I repeat, everyone will be assigned to a work detail.  There will be no exceptions if you don’t work folks, you will not be eating.”

Tony jumped up leaned over and said something at the Major and his Captain.  The big black man’s arm shot out and he slammed a handgun against the side of Tony’s head.

Pandemonium erupted on the front steps of the town hall.  Other members of the city council rushed to Tony’s side.  Soldiers swarmed around the crowd and shots were fired.

“Go now.”  Steve whispered.

The audience either pulled back from the altercation or surged forward to protest.

Della grabbed the handles of the wheel chair where Millie had settled and Darlene picked up Penny.  They quickly made a beeline for the corner of the motel building.  Two more shots were fired, but Steve’s band of escapees kept moving away from the fighting that suddenly erupted.

They got to the side of the building and all were out of breath except Millie and Penny.

“Run away! Run away!” Penny giggled.

Steve turned to Zack.  “Get them in the truck.”

Zack grabbed the handles of the wheel chair from Della.  “Go. I got this.”

Steve watched as the twenty or so soldiers herded the city council toward the door to the City Hall.  Half a dozen burly townsmen raced toward the commotion and more shots rang out.  Two men fell and the crowd panicked and scattered in all directions.

Steve hurried around the building to the truck and struggled into the seat.  “Go! Now!”

Zack slammed the truck into gear and stomped on the gas.  He made the first left and headed back down the street toward the bridge.

When the truck got to the metal barrier at the bridge, Ollie stepped out of the nearby tent and waved.  “What’s going on?  Where are you folks headed?”  He asked with a worried look.  “What are the shots in town?”

Steve answered.  “The soldiers just caused a riot in front of city hall.  Two people went down.  They’re claiming martial law gives them the right to confiscate food, meds and weapons.  We have no intentions of staying and giving up our guns.”

“What’ve you got in back?”  Ollie asked.

Just what we came with.”

“Son-of-a-bitch!”  Ollie swore as he looked at the people around him.  “How bad is it?”

Steve shrugged.  “They could have already killed two people.”  He answered then asked.  “Will you open the gate and let us go?”

“No reason not to.”  He waved at the men standing look out.  “Open the gate.”

Ollie looked into the back seat.  Looks like you picked up a few folks.  What about that young girl that came in with you?”

“She found some friends and was determined to stay.”  Steve shrugged. “Will you watch out for her?  She’s just a kid.”

The gate swung open. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”  Ollie stepped back and waved them toward the gate. “Thanks for the head’s up. You folks be safe.”

Steve hesitated then added. “If this falls apart, head for Pine Canyon in the Guadalupe National Park.”

Ollie gave a quick nod and waved the truck on.  Zack stepped on the accelerator and Steve looked in the side mirror as they drove through the gate to see Ollie heading toward his truck as the gates closed.

Tate gave Matt thirty minutes from dawn’s first light.  When he didn’t show up she cranked the engine of the white rig and headed across the highway to the overgrown cattle guard and the road.  Once across the guard the road quickly disappeared. She drove for ten minutes around massive stands of mesquite, rocks and dry gulleys.   Amid the weeds and scrub grass she saw the first signs of blood and gore. The scattering of blood and remains made her breath catch. Tate downshifted and stopped. She grabbed a small pair of binoculars from her bag and studied the scattering of blood and bones.  When she scanned the area she saw several infected surrounding a cluster of mesquite.

At the edge of the cluster greenery, she studied a length of bone.  She saw a split hoof at the end of the leg bone being devoured by an infected.  As she looked more closely, she saw more and more remains of a massive feral hog. Several more infected followed running piglets.  As Tate examined the area, she noticed movement amid the cluster of mesquite where the infected continued to press closer.  She studied movement and thought she saw the pink flesh of a human arm.  She looked again and saw it was a hand lying on something amid the brush.  A finger twitched.

She saw a glint of light.  A ray of sunlight flickered off of glass.  It was a bottle, a liquor bottle.  With a grunt of disgust, she snarled.  “Ought to leave his drunk-ass to be eaten.”

He must have crawled under the mesquite and the dead-heads were distracted by the feral hog and piglets.  She realized there were at least a dozen infected pressing closer to the brush pile.  The rest of the pack of infected were gathered to one side of the mesquite focused on the buffet of pork.  From her vantage point Tate looked as if there was a trail through the brush to the back side of the stand.

She took a deep breath and turned off the engine.  “Come on, dick-head.  Talk me out of this.” She whispered to herself.  “He could be lying in the brush dead.”  She gathered her handgun and machete.  She stuffed an extra magazine in her hip pocket.  “Tell me I’m not doing this.”  She mumbled before she opened the door to the cab.  “Fuck!”

She slid to the ground and quietly closed the truck door.  She bent over and duck-walked toward the back side of the cluster of mesquite away from the infected cluster around a squealing piglet.  She moved slowly between rocks and brush with huge thorns across the rough terrain.

Tate rounded a clump of mesquite and stood face to face with an infected man in a plaid shirt and jeans.  He reached out and opened his mouth just as she slammed the machete into the top of his skull.  He fell like a sack of potatoes and remained still.  Tate jerked the machete free then stepped over him and moved around the next stand of brush.

With the death of the last piglet, the infected were losing interest in the scattered remains.  She picked up the pace and crossed the last fifty feet to the back of the mesquite warren where she had seen the bottle glistening in the morning sun.  She bent down and looked into the narrow passage way.  “Hey, dumbass!  Get your drunk ass out here!”

Matt groaned.  He thought he heard a voice but he couldn’t be sure.  His head ached.  He looked down and remembered d he’d crawled in the mesquite labyrinth and was trapped.  He couldn’t fight dozens of the infected alone.

“Dumbass!  Get the fuck up and crawl this way. We don’t have much time before the lunch crowd come looking for us.”

He knew that voice; the Orange Bitch.  “Hey!  I’m here!”  He yelled.

“Shut the fuck up, you asshole.”  Tate whispered.

Matt looked from side to side then asked.  “Where are you?”

Tate was so frustrated for a heartbeat she considered raising her gun and shooting Matt. “Behind you.  Slink around the back of that brush and make it quick.  The deadheads out in front of you are getting restless.”

Matt grabbed his pack and rifle, turned around and crawled to a thinning curtain of vegetation he realized Tate stood behind it.  He got to his knees and crawled under the upper branches and thorny brush.  “Ouch.  Fuck.  Damn it.”

Tate used the machete to clear branches and moved toward Matt.  The blade came down just as Matt stuck his head out from behind a clump of thorny green.  The brush fell against his face and shoulder.

“Whoa!”  Matt startled. “You almost took off my ear.”

“Come on dumbass.  You’re lucky it wasn’t your head.”  Tate grumbled.

Tate turned on her heels and headed back through the brush and briars.  She didn’t bother to see if Matt followed just expected him to.

“I need a drink.”  Matt mumbled.

Tate stopped and turned around to face him.  “You have all those people counting on you and the first time no one is looking, you get drunk.  I don’t know what kind of dumbass you are, but it’s time for you, man up.” She slammed her fist into his chest.  “If you get me bit, I will shoot you.  Now, shut up and keep up!”

Matt follow as guilt silenced his protest.  She was right.  He was drunk when he led those infected to that road block.  If he hadn’t been tipping the bottle he would have noticed long before he drove up on it.  If any of those people died it was on him.  They had a right to go after him.

By the time Tate worked her way back to the edge of the maze of mesquite two infected were heading their way.  The first was an old man in boxer shorts with the remains of a bathrobe still clinging to his emaciated body.  His belly was distended and a brown sludge trickled down his legs.  Even behind Tate, Matt could smell the stench wafting up from the walking corpse.

“Oh fuck.” He whispered and tried to breathe through his mouth.

Tate walked up to the old man and used the gun to blow a small hole in his forehead.  He went down and a farmer in bib overalls stumbled closer.  Tate fired, took him down and turned to Matt.  “Keep up.”

She started jogging straight for the white truck in the distance.  Matt refused to let the dehydration and pounding inside his head slow his steps.  He felt pretty sure, as mad as the woman was, she would probably leave him.

When they got to the truck, it was all Matt could do to keep from puking.  He stumbled around the front of the truck while Tate climbed in the driver’s side of the big rig and cranked the engine.  Matt opened the door and pulled himself into the seat and slammed the door.  He let his head fall back against the headrest.

Tate reached behind the seat and dropped two bottles of water in his lap.  She picked up another, opened it and took a long drink. She ignored the infected that had started following them and now surrounded the truck and slapping hands on the doors and hood.

Tate glanced at Matt.

“You man, are a grade-A, fuck-up. You have forty people looking to you to lead and protect them and you’re a fuckin’ drunk.  God knows why. You saved my life and now we’re even.  Clean slate.”

“You don’t understa….”

“Can it!  I don’t give a shit what your drama is.  The people at the camp are looking to you to lead them.  Either step up and lead or get the hell out of my truck.”  She looked totally disgusted.

Matt sat there for a long time without saying a word.  Finally he spoke. His voice was strong and succinct.  “You’re right.  Everything you said is true and my shit has cost us the Humvee. I owe you.”

“No. We’re even with who saved who, but you do owe those people better than you’ve been giving.”

“You’re right. I’ll do better when we get back.” Matt answered.

“First you’re going to help me.  And if you’re real good and don’t fuck this up, I know where you can get another Humvee.  A really nice one.”  Tate answered with a grin.

“Okay.  I’m in. What do I have to do?”

Tate grinned.  “First, you call the camp and tell them you’re safe.” She tossed a radio in Matt’s lap.  “Next, tell them we’re going on a supply run. And as for you, the entire fucking state is now considered dry and you better remember it.  I’ll shoot you in the ass if I catch even a beer in your hand.”

Matt called the camp. When Lawson answered he stated he’d lost the vehicle and was going to try to replace it.  Larry got on the radio and asked questions, but Matt shut him down.

“Hamilton and I will be back tomorrow.  Don’t take chances and keep the camp safe.”  Matt instructed. When he was finished, Tate laughed at the hang dog look on his face.  “Can we go now?” He finally asked.

Tate cranked the engine of the white truck. She slammed the beast in gear and rolled forward.  Three bodies slid under the front tires of the rig.  She made a wide circle around a small cluster of mesquite and headed back to the road leaving the remaining infected in the dust.

Liz stared at the two men standing in front of her.  “He would want me to find our girls!”

Harry moved his head from left to right.  He would want you and the baby safe.  “Your girls are with capable men.  God willing, they will survive and bring them to you.”  He swung a leg over his bike and held out his hand.

Liz stood staring at his hand for a full minute before she slid on the bike with a final protest. “I can’t just give up.”

Harry cranked the engine and slipped it in gear.  “No one is giving up.  We’re protecting this child.”

They left the farm to market road and headed northwest.  The roads were clear of traffic and road blocks.  Few infected seemed to be in the area.  Four hours later, they stopped so Harry could consult a map.  They were getting close to Kerrville, an area rife with back roads, hills and canyons.  It was beautiful country with lakes, rivers and wooded expanses that shut out the ugliness of the past few weeks.

They stood next to the rail road tracks and sipped on water bottle.  Ahead in the distance was a big rig and trailer at the side of the blacktop. The truck was lying on its side as if kicked out of the way like a petulant child.  Liz wondered to the side of the road where vines of dewberries grew.  She stood picking at the lush fruit and eating berry after berry.

“We need to head up to 16 to Ranchero Road to North Valley View Dr. to Rim Rock to Lehmann to Cully Drive. We’ll work our way around Peterson Regional Medical Center then end up on 98 North.”  Harry announced.

They got back on the bikes and slowly accelerated toward the wrecked trailer ahead.  Liz glanced to the left as they rode by and she saw spray painted graffiti.  Suddenly she slammed her hand on Harry’s shoulder and screamed “Stop!”

Harry and John both slammed on the breaks and came to a skidding halt.  Harry turned around to see Liz jumping from the bike.  He studied the massive red heart painted on the smooth metal skin of the top of the trailer.  A red heart with Amy and Claire’s names painted inside.  To the side was three smiley faces, the first with bangs, second with hair on either side of the head and the last bald.

Harry started laughing.  “Well, well, well.  I guess there is a message.”

Liz reached out to touch the dried paint.  She caressed the swirls of red paint as if by touching it she could feel the soft cheek of her daughters.  Tears streamed down her face.

Finally John spoke.  “Would someone tell me what the hell this is all about?”

Liz looked up and smiled.  “My girls’ names are Amy and Claire.”  She took a deep breath.  “It’s meant for me.  They’re safe.”

Harry nodded.  “I think you’re right.”

Suddenly a moan interrupted the conversation.  The trio looked toward the road ahead and were shocked to see an army of infected stumbling toward them.  Harry cranked his bike and Liz slid onto the seat.

“Head out, John.  We’ve got to head back the way we come.”  Harry ordered.  “They’re coming out of the small communities around Kerrville.”

A infected were drawn toward the sounds of the motorcycles.  They stumbled down streets and from buildings and nearby houses.

“I guess we know what happened to all the creeps from back at that last little cluster of houses.  Bastards follow sound.”  John commented.

“Turn right at the next intersection, John.  If I remember right, it should by-pass the housing section and end up behind what looked like an industrial park.”  Harry ordered over the intercom.

“Got it!”  John answered as he pulled his handgun and fired at the closest monster.  A middle-aged woman in a housedress fell to the ground.

Liz pulled her own gun and fired twice as they pulled away from the moving horde of infected.  As she stowed her hand gun she heard John’s startled yelp.

John’s bike jerked to the side and his handlebars pulled from his hands and he sailed over the front doing a loose limbed summersault then landing on the pavement spread-eagle.

Harry slammed on the breaks just as his bike jerked to the side.  Liz clutched at Harry but in the end both him and Liz were thrown from the machine and off to the side in a tumbling roll.   The world became a blur of flying arms, asphalt shredding denim and driving gravel into her knees and elbows.  She felt Harry bounce against her then slip away.  Suddenly, she slammed against a wall and all momentum stopped.  She lay still gasping for breath.  She heard a distant curse.  John?

“Fuck!”  Harry yelled. “Lizzy?”

Liz reached for the snap on her helmet. “Here.”

“Get up…we gotta get to cover!”  Harry yelled.

Bits of asphalt and gravel ricocheted from the ground as Liz realized they were under attack.  She rolled over and saw she was close to the bike.  She grabbed the strap of both their go-bags then followed Harry as he crawled to the side of a building.

John grabbed his pack from his bike and crawled behind a concrete barrier.  “Hey, you two okay?” He called out.

Liz looked at her scrapped knees and elbows where blood was soaking through the denim.  “I’m fine.”  She turned to Harry and examined a knot on his head.  He nodded slowly.  “Harry’s a little banged up, but we’re good.”

John answered.  “Fuckers killed my bike.  Front end is trashed.”

Shots pinged off the concrete again.  “They’re up high, at least half a dozen shooters.”  Harry pulled his handgun and pointed to the corner.  “We have to get the ammo bags and my rifle. It’s still tied to the back of my bike.”

When Harry made a move to reach across the open area between the wall and the bike, Liz pulled him back.  “I can do it.  You and John make sure no one has a chance to look up.” Harry started to protest. but she interrupted.  “I’m a smaller target and you two are better shots.”

Liz pulled off her helmet.  Harry grabbed her arm and handed her a knife with thick heavy blade.  He stood and took her helmet.  “When I toss this, they’ll fire. John and I lay down some cover fire.  Get out there and cut the gun and bag from the bike then get back here.  You’ll have maybe ten seconds before they figure out what’s happening so you have to get back by then.”

“I got this.”  Liz whispered.

Harry stepped back, and tossed the helmet underhanded across the street to clatter against a dumpster where is hit the lid and fell inside to clatter against the bottom with a loud crash and thud.

At the first shot, Liz ran to the back of the motorcycle.  She squatted down behind the rolled bike and began sawing at the rifle strapping.  While she worried through the leather she could hear both Harry and John returning fire.  The bag and rifle dropped. She grabbed the strap of the bag, hunched over and hurried back to Harry’s side.  When she glanced over her shoulder she saw dozens of infected converging on the street leading to the bikes.

The group attacking noticed Liz just as she slipped behind the corner of the building and two shots pinged against brick sending shards into the back of her leg.  Harry peeked around the wall and fired two quick shots then fell back to release a magazine and slam a fresh one into place.

“You okay?”  Harry asked.  When she nodded, he spoke into his helmet one last time.  Head north, John.  We’ll be right behind you as soon as you’re clear.”

Harry peeked around the building, fired and jerked back before answering fire could find its target.  Liz pulled the rifle from the case and handed it to Harry.  He pulled off his helmet and whispered.  “Get low. Take two quick shots then get back and take the bag and run after John.  I’ll be right behind you after I send a couple rounds at the guy on the roof.”

“Got it.”  Liz took the shots, backed clear then grabbed the bag and ran.

Harry stepped away from the corner with the rifle pressed against his shoulder.  He fired.  A shooter across the street toppled from the top of a two story building to the pavement with a blood chilling shriek.  He fell to the street.  One of the attacker on the ground rushed to pick up the injured man but was attacked by two infected.

Harry retreated and the shooter concentrated their fire on the infected attacking their comrade.  Screams from both attackers ended quickly when a single shot rang out.  Another shot silenced the second voice screaming in terror and pain.

Harry limped to where John and Liz waited.  John slid Harry’s arm over his shoulder and the trio hurried around the corner of the first building with the sound of gunfire still echoing in the distance.

Liz struggled to carry two backpacks and the gun bag but kept her feet moving.  At the first break between buildings, they made a left turn, went half a block then right.

The distant gunfire grew less intense then was reduced to single shots as if the shooters were singling out deliberate targets.  The harried voices had long since faded away.  Finally, Harry pulled away from John’s grasp and rocked back against a building wall.

“We have to find a place to hide out until they give up looking for us.”  John announced.

They each scanned the surrounding buildings looking for a place to call sanctuary.  Harry walked to the end of the building and looked down the row of offices and store fronts.  Wandering infected stumbled into view at the far end of the complex.

“We gotta move.” Harry whispered.

“You can’t, Harry.  We have to stop and clean John up and tape your ankle.”

“Has to wait.”  Harry picked up his pack and limped to the opposite end of the building and took a quick look.  “Come on.”

Liz picked up her own pack and the gun bag and began walking.  John slipped up and grabbed the other strap to take some of the load.  Liz gave a quick nod and followed Harry.

He led them down the alley, around a building then through a maze of single story buildings until they left the business park and entered a wooded area.  After nearly a mile Harry stopped, gasping for air.  “I’m getting too old for this shit.”

Brian looked up. “How far?”

“Eight miles, maybe.”  Juan answered.

“Like I said, in the morning.”

Another twelve hours, Brian figured the construction workers would be recovered enough to make the trip after their drinking binge and resulting hangovers.  The food prepared by the women did a lot to aid in their recovery.  Brian decided the trio was decent men, just overwhelmed by the situation.

As the sun set and the bar darkened, everyone migrated to booths and tried to get comfortable enough to sleep.  Soon the women were out and Dale curled up on the floor on a pile of cardboard.

For Brian, it was a losing proposition with all the noise from the dead in the street.  He and Billy repacked backpacks and readied supplies before Billy settled on a vinyl bench near the door.  At one, he changed places with Brian when spent the early part of the evening watching the street.

Eugene and Juan were the first to stir.  Juan put on coffee and threw dozens of sausage links on the grill.  He made flour tortilla and as folks got to moving arund, passed out the impromptu breakfast.

They were out the door by full light.  The group spent the day of slipping from doorway to doorway, dodging infected and stumbling past horrible scene of mayhem.  By the time they got to the office building, Brian was ready to shoot at least two of the party.

Getting inside was easy, since Eugene had a key to the back door.  He explained, the crew working on the rehab of the third floor offices were only allowed to work at night.  The night security didn’t want to be bothered every time they needed to open the back door or loading dock to bring supplies in the building.

Brian and his group slipped inside the building without a problem.  Eugene ushered everyone into the back hall, then pulled the door closed.  They stood in the dark listening and sniffing at the stagnant air.

Billy turned to Brian.  “What do you think?”

“We check it out.” Brian answered. “Billy, stay here.  Eugene and I will check out the lobby and security.”

Brian left Billy and the others at the back door then followed Eugene to the lobby.  The reception desk was empty and windowed front of the building was intact.  The reflective glass hid any movement inside. They rounded the reception desk and opened a door to a back hallway.  They walked past the security office.  They found no sign of infected or victims alike.

“Good sign.”  Eugene grinned.  They made their way back to the others and led the group down a hall to a security office.  When he called out a name, everyone shushed him.

“We do this quiet.”  Brian ordered.

Eugene nodded sheepishly.

The place was clean and quiet.  Despite no obvious signs of danger, Brian pointed to the office.

“Dale, you, Juan and the women stay here.  We’ll come back for you.”

“But?” Juan started to protest.

“We’re clearing each floor before we settle down.”  Brian ordered.  He pointed to Eugene and Leon, “You two take the second floor, Billy and I will clear the rest of this floor then move on to the third floor.  When you’re done, head up to the fourth floor.  Don’t take chances.”

Eugene grinned.  “Got it.”  He turned to Leon and slapped him on the shoulder good naturedly. “Come on, buddy.”

Brian and Billy cleared the rest of the first floor while the construction workers cleared the second floor where they had been working.

Brian and Billy, working as a team, made quick work of the open floor with a dozen offices. They began clearing the third floor when the construction workers appear at the exit door.

“Second floor is good, boss.”  Eugene announced.  “We’re going to the top floor.”

“Be careful.” Brian ordered as Eugene disappeared back through the stair door.

It all would have worked out just fine if one of the security guards hadn’t come to work sick or bit.  Somehow both guards ended up trapped in an office at the end of the hall on the top floor.

Working together, Eugene and Leon cleared each office. Eugene jerked open each door, moving to the right while making room for Leon to follow close behind him.  Together, they cleared the office then Eugene moved to the next door leaving Leon to close the door behind them.  Until they got to the executive suite at the end of the hall.

Eugene was sure it was more of the same so he jerked open the mahogany door and charged into the well-appointed office.  Leon was still admiring the sun dancing off the crystal canisters on the glass shelves behind the bar when he heard a loud curse.  Leon turned just in time to see Eugene disappear into the office.

Inside the office, the steel-toe of Eugene’s boot caught on the fleshless leg of the mutilated body of one of the guards.  Eugene tumbled across the body ending up face to face with a torn and shredded face.  Horrified, he jerked away from the gnashing teeth and picked up his hammer to stove in the man’s head.  Blood, bones and brains splatter across the expensive carpet with the first crack of the skull.  Still angered at the sudden terror of the gnashing teeth so close to his face.

“Fucker!”  Eugene yelled as he drove the weapon into the skull again and again.

So intent in destroying the monster, Eugene failed to notice a shadow step from behind the opened door until he felt a stab of pain on his shoulder. He yelped as he dropped the hammer. He rolled over to kick at the monster as he tried to crab-crawl away.

Leon burst into the room and swung his hammer into the head of the second guard that had bitten Eugene.  When the body lay still on the floor Leon looked up to see Eugene getting to his feet.

Eugene stumbled across the room to the massive ornate desk and collapsed onto the executive chair.  Leon stood over the monster he had killed with his hammer still dripping blood and brains when Brian and Billy walked in a few minutes later.

Brian sent Billy for the rest of the party and gave orders to put them in the office across the hall.  He put the women and Dale inside and closed the door.

Brian took in the blood and gore of the room and crossed the blood soaked carpet to the desk.

“Well this sucks.” Eugene announced with a crooked grin.

Brian nodded. “Sorry, man.”

Eugene reached in his pocket and laid a keyring on the table.  “Only works the back door where we came in.” He sighed. “I’d appreciate you not letting me turn.”

Brian nodded.  “No problem. I can do that for you.”

When Billy, Leon and Juan returned, they covered the bodies of the guards. Leon went back to the second floor to retrieve a large roll of construction plastic.  They rolled the two guards in plastic then moved each of the bodies to the second floor and left them behind a pile of construction debris.

The next morning when Eugene died, Brian picked up a letter opener from the desk and ensured he wouldn’t become one of the walking dead. They wrapped his body and moved to the second floor as well.

When Leon protested, Brian answered. “It’s not up for discussion. We’re going to be here until tomorrow or the next day and I, for one, do not want to smell dead bodies and shit the entire time.”

After getting everyone fed, Brian announced he and Billy would be looking through the building for supplies.  When they returned mid-afternoon, everyone had managed to clean up and Leo and Juan volunteered to stand first and second watch so Brian and Billy could rest.

Brian took the early morning watch.  He stood in the dark facing the street below from the darkened office window and thought about the last few days.

He had been dealing with a domestic squabble when the attack happened.  By the time he got his prisoner into the holding cell at the office and to the parade grounds the bio teams were in place and directing emergency services.  He was given gloves and a mask and put to assist transporting the sick and dying to a hospital half way across town.

Without anyone noticing the colorless mist had drifted away to a nearby residential area.  Of course, no one knew or understood the implications at the time, they were too busy trying to save the lives.

Brian warned Liz when he saw the number of people writhing on the grass.  He saw the situation was worse than anything ever imagined so he broke protocol and warned his wife to leave.  As the day wore on he prayed his family had escaped San Antonio and were safely tucked away at her father’s hunting lodge. The image of his wife and girls safe kept him moving.

Brian still hated to close his eyes. Images of the mid-town hospital still haunted his slumber.  That was where he saw the first of the infected attack the living.

Dozens of bodies lying on gurneys had been pushed into a side hall not far from the emergency room.  Without anyone noticing the dead stumbled to their feet and walked the halls attacking anyone they stumbled across.  After half a dozen staff members went missing, the infected managed to escape the hall and enter the emergency room where Brian waited with two paramedics.

It was chaos.  The dead appeared, covered in the blood of those they attacked.  They pounced on doctors and nurses alike.  Brian was unsure of what to do like everyone else. No one wanted to shoot infected soldiers or civilians.  Orderlies, medics and emergency staff raced into the mayhem to pull the infected from the doctors and nurses only to be attacked themselves.  Each and every one fell attempting to save staff.  Brian pulled his handgun but hesitated.

Then a shot rang out.  After the first blast there was an explosion of gunfire echoing throughout the building.  A female voice screamed “head-shots”.

Brian fired at one infected, then another.  With head shots, they dropped.  An officer with three enlisted men ran past him toward the door.  Brian fired again and again putting down more infected dressed in scrubs.

The last man, leaving the building, grabbed his arm.  “Gotta go, sir!”

The last man grabbed Brian’s arm and pulled him back through the opening.

“Close the fuckin’ doors.  Get ‘em secured!”  A commanding voice called out as the soldiers ran back toward Brian.

“Help us get this door sealed or we’re dead!”  One of the soldiers called out.

Stunned Brian helped slam the two sliders closed then secured them.  The officer stood at the side of the building with a hand covering his bleeding arm.

The soldiers who pulled him from the hospital had saved Brian’s life, but all he could think about was the people left trapped in the emergency room with the infected screaming as they were being torn apart.  With another barked order, the men ran to a nearby ambulance, hopped in and drove away.  Brian decided he could do nothing by staying so he jumped in the ambulance as well.

After a brief discussion, Brian directed the young PFC driving the vehicle to the MP office.  He figured it was the closest place to get more ammo and guns.

When they got to the single story green building, they walked in to the sounds of a man screaming to be released.

Brian walked back to the cell. “Shut the fuck up!” He ordered in a voice that left no room for argument.

“What’s going on? Everyone ran outta here and no one’s been back.” The soldier asked.

“I’m letting you out of here. Get your ass home and protect his family.” Brian threw him the keys to a military sedan parked at the side of the building.  “Don’t stop for anyone. Infected people are attacking anyone they get their hands on. Don’t get bit.”

The soldier ran out of the office.  A moment later and engine cranked and the sound slowly disappeared moments later.  Brian locked up the building and went back to the briefing room where he had left the injured soldiers.  He bandaged each of the injuries on three of the four men then watched as they sickened. One by one they succumbed to illness.

Six hours later, Brian put a bullet in Major Winston’s head then two of his men an hour after that.  The only soldier to survive was the kid that had pulled Brian from the hospital.  PFC Billy Walker was still with Brian, expecting him to tell him what to do next.  Brian laughed.  The kid was green as grass, but he knew how to take orders.  That was a good thing.

Lieutenant Brian Jameson looked through the blood smeared fourth-floor window of the office building to the streets below.  A lot of the infected had followed the last of the army vehicles as they thundered from the base the day before.  He and PFC Walker watched the vehicles pull out unable to do a thing about it.

He had known there were more soldiers on the base, but when he had lost his radio he had no way of contacting them without drawing attention to their hiding place.  Land lines were down and cell service was overloaded and none of the calls connected.  The one time he had gotten his wife’s cell phone to ring, it went to voicemail.  She hadn’t answered. Were Liz and his daughters still alive?

He forced his thoughts from his family.  He could do nothing to help them.  He had people to help here and now. The four story office building was the third structure Brian and the PFC had used to hide from the infected since leaving the Army base.

The day the surviving military left the base had been bad and nearly sent PFC Billy Walker into a panic.

“Son of a bitch!”  Billy gasped.  “We’re so fucked!”

Brian reached out and shoved the kid behind a vehicle then fired a silenced round into the head of an infected woman who had taken notice of his outburst.  “Quiet.”

“If we cut across the base we can head northwest.  Maybe we can catch up.”

They spent the next few hours working their way past the enlisted men’s barracks and office buildings and around groups of infected.  By late in the afternoon they realized most traffic was at a standstill and any vehicles that were still moving were being quickly brought to a stop and surrounded by the infected.  No noise was the key so they were traveling on foot, at least, until the edge of the city.

Even if they found the surviving soldiers, they would be surrounded by the dead.  The loud military vehicles were rolling dinner bells.

As the afternoon sun began to fade they were left at the edge of a strip center.  Only one door seemed intact so Brian used a crowbar to pop the door from the frame and slipped into a building.  He sniffed and signaled Billy inside.

They wedged the door closed and moved through the darkened building.  When they got to the back of a long hall to a small breakroom they found three people huddled in the corner too afraid to even turn on a light.  They had had few supplies to start with and nothing but water since the day before.

The two women and an overweight insurance salesman were so terrified they could barely speak.  Brian and Billy calmed the hysteria caused by their arrival and got enough information to know they needed food.  They shared a few supplies then left the trio to scavenge supplies from other offices in the building.

“What are we going to do with them?”  Billy asked.

Brian used the toe of his boot to ease the door open as he held the silenced handgun in front of him.  The room was a call center filled with thirty-plus waist-high cubicles, arranged in four rows of cubes extending the length of the room. One row was positioned against the wall on either side and the two middle rows were separated by a five-foot soft wall.

“Perfect.  Pay attention, Billy.  It doesn’t look like anyone is here, but stay alert.  We need shoes for the women. Go through drawers and cabinets.  Look for anything we might be able to use, shoes for the women, food, pants, or t-shirts. Even jackets if you can find a couple.”

“Yes sir.” Billy grinned.

Brian moved to the pathway to the right while Billy approached the corridor on the left.  Brian moved past the first cube with an assortment of posted notes bottom of the computer screen and a photo of a dark haired little girl.  Brian laid the picture flat and opened each of the drawers.  He scored two Slim Jims and a Candy bar. He dropped them in a plastic bag and turned to the cubical to the right.

Brian could hear Billy moved down the opposite corridor opening drawers, rattling bags and checking out every cubical.  It took nearly five minutes to search all the cubicles.  At the end, Billy looked around the corner and grinned.  Over his shoulder hung two pair of jogging shoes tied together by the strings, He held a jacket and a sweater and some kind of a shawl.

“Only scored a couple Ramen noodle cups, but not much in the way of food. They had a butt load of rotten salads.”   Billy grinned.  “But I got shoes.”

Brian nodded. “I got food, and a pair of shoes, small though.  Most of my side was used by men. They worried more about food then clothes.”

They cleared the manager’s office and found a bowl of candy but little else of value.  They got back to the trio and settled down for the night.

The two women, Paula and Margo, worked in an office across the street.  When the office was attacked, then ran to the next office door and slipped inside and locked the door.  Dale Witman was a three pack a day smoker and showed it.  He had watched the mayhem from his office and the three of them had decided to hunker down and wait for help.  Help that never came.

Brian tossed the three pairs of shoes on the floor in front of the two women and Dale.  The women tried on shoes and settled on the two smaller pair leaving Dale wear the pink jogging shoes. When he started to protest Brian turned and glared at him.

“Wear ‘em or not.  I don’t care. But I’m telling you right now, you keep up or I will leave you behind.”

Dale slid his feet out of the expensive loafers and jammed his feet into the pink running shoes

They spent the night and moved on at dawn.  They moved down alleys, around building and through parking garaging until they got caught between two drifting herds of infected  in the middle of the afternoon.

“Do something.”  Dale clutched at Brian’s arm.  “We’re going to die!”

Brian jerked his arm away.  “Shut up!”

He glanced up and down the block then turned to a scared door at his side.  He jammed the crowbar between the door and wood facing.  With a crack of wood the door swung open. Billy stepped inside, fanning the light from side to side and sniffing at the stagnant air.

He stopped at the sight of three bodies slumped in a corner booth.  The table was littered with dozens of beer bottles.  The stench of stale beer made him take a step back but Brian pushed him further into the room.   Brian led the others into the bar and eased the door closed then jammed a chair under the doorknob. The three men snorted and groaned then returned to slumbering.

Brian gave them a quick onceover and realized the three bodies were live men, just dead drunk.  They each wore tool belts of construction workers and had obviously been drinking for quite a few days.

Paula with Margo in tow went behind the bar.  She used a rubber band to pull back her long dark hair and dug around behind the polished bar until she found coffee and filters.  Once the smell of coffee filled the air, she began searching for food.  At the smell of food cooking and coffee the drunks began to stir.

Two hours later, most of the group sat together at a large table discussing how they ended up at the bar.  After one last look outside, Brian settled down to eat.  Billy took his place watching through the small peephole in the door.

After brief introductions, Brian asked.  “So Eugene, Juan and Leon, what’s your story?”  He slathered mustard on his burger and stale bun and took a big bite of sandwich.

Eugene, the foreman on the construction project the trio had been working on announced. “We were working on this building on the outskirts of town before the attack.  We took outta there together.  I got hit by a sedan a few blocks from here.  We barely escaped a bunch of those crazy people. Got this far, and couldn’t decide to what to do next.”  He chuckled.  “Besides, I was outta beer at home.

Juan interrupted.  “I knew the bartender that worked here.  We got to the back door it was open.  No one was here when we come in.”

Eugene laughed.  “Been here ever since.”  He belched. “Couldn’t decide what to do and we could lock the place up, so we just had a drink or two to think about what to do next.”

Leon, a muscular black man with a big smile, chuckled. “We weren’t thinking on it too hard.”

“We’re leaving in the morning.  You can come or not.  Up to you.”  Brian answered.

Juan leaned closer.  “Where are you going?”

“Southwest until we can find a place to get a ride then head out of town.”

“We know a place.  It should be empty and we can find a vehicle since there’s a used car lot nearby.”

  • The trucks driven by Jake, Jenkins and Dreschel arrived with Tate in tow.  It had only taken an hour after leaving Matt at the intersection.  The camp residents had all turned out to watch as the vehicles rolled through the gate. Two women hurried to the gathering of children and hustled them to the playground and out of the way of all the activity.  The soldiers and civilians alike grinned and waved at the drivers of the caravan of vehicles.

    Once all the vehicles were inside the gate and the barrier was secure again.  Two soldiers resumed guard duty.  Tate put the white rig in park and waited while Jake, Dreschel and Jenkins jumped from the cabs and conferenced with a small bookish looking man with thick glasses.

    Tate pulled a cigarette from her pocket and lit up and watched.

    Jenkin pointed to the rigs.  “Alright Novack.  Figure it out.  We’re tired and we need to get these trailers off loaded.”

    Novack pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose.  “Well, Mr. Monroe didn’t tell me where to place the containers.”

    “We’re placing the two containers on the east side of the gate.  We’ll be putting them end to end for now.  We’ll park the trailer at the far end.”  Jenkins advised.

    An older women with gray hair and glasses walked up. “Canned goods need to be closer to the food truck.”  She brushed her hands across the front of a white butcher’s apron.  “I can’t carry cases of canned good across this camp ground.”

    Novack moved his head from left to right.  “Now Joan, we don’t have room to pup a container there.  If you need supplies, one of us will assist you.”

    The woman turned to the military dressed man.  “I won’t have time to chase someone down in the middle of cooking, Mr. Larry.”  Joan argued.

    The man she called Larry stepped up and placed an arm around the woman’s shoulder.  “Now, Joan, I promise me or one of my men will carry cases of goods when you need them. All you have to do is ask.”

    “Well, if you promise.”  Joan answered.

    “You got my word.”  Larry winked.

    Tate chuckled when she saw the woman’s face redden.  “Well, that’s a smooth talker.  I’ll have to remember that.” She mumbled to herself.

    Larry turned to the four men. “Where’s Matt?”

    “Turned off to give a bunch of infected another direction to head besides back here. He shouldn’t be more than an hour or so behind us.” Jake answered.

    Larry shrugged. “Okay, I’m heading back to the barn. I got a couple of the boys mucking out the stalls and promised to teach them to ride if they did a good enough job.” Larry walked off with a wave. “You got this covered?”

    “Sure.  We’ll get the shipping containers up front by the gate and our new friend’s trailer along the back fence.” Jake answered. “We’ll introduce you later.”

    “Look forward to it.”

    The scavenging crew had been back at the camp nearly three hours and in that length of time they moved the shipping containers and the trailers to the edge of the fence.  They parked the trailers and trucks at the back edge of the recreation center and food truck.

    The trailer with the cases scavenged from the train was close enough to keep an eye on yet, far enough away to be out of the way of normal camp traffic. The doors of the containers stood open exposing a plethora of goods for all to see. Tate disconnected the trailer and drove the white rig to a small maintenance shed near the trailer used by the soldiers to listen to radio traffic.  Tate had glanced inside when the female soldier had called out a greeting.

    “New arrival?”  The soldier called out from inside a small camper.  “My name’s Lawson.” She stepped out into the afternoon sun.

    Tate nodded.  “Yep.  Name’s Tate Hamilton.”

    “You came in with Jenkins and his crew?”  Lawson asked as she wiped at the moisture on her face.

    “They pulled me out of my wrecked rig.”  Tate answered.

    “You should go to the manager’s office and let Amanda take care of it.”  Lawson answered.

    “This place has a manager?”  Tate asked.

    “Hell no.  She’s our resident prego.  Baby due in a couple weeks.  She was a nurse.  Closest thing we got to a doctor.  Don’t know who’s gonna deliver her baby…that’s a whole ‘nother complication.  Anyway, it has living quarters and the Sergeant and his men sleep up there.” Tate raised a brow and she continued. “Not like that.  Amanda takes care of the Sargeant’s kids when him, Jake or Larry aren’t around.”

    “He has kids?”

    “No. Not really.  Two little girls he found when this shit storm hit.”

    “Oh. What you doing?” Tate asked.

    “Communications, sorta.”  Lawson answered.  “Mostly, I just listen.  The Sergeant thinks we should just listen for now.  I monitor our hand radios on channel 19 and a CB.  It’s a decent unit, but we don’t get shit for reception.  We need a taller antenna.  We’re in a bit of a valley here.”  Lawson reached inside the camper and handed Tate a bottle of water.

    “Thanks.”  Tate answered.  “Sounds boring.”

    Lawson laughed.  “Better than out there.”

    “Yeah.  You think I can use a few tools.  This is a new rig to me and I’d like to look it over before I need to go out again.”

    “No problem.  I’ll call one of the kids to take you to see Amanda.  She can check your head.”

    A few minutes later she was led off to meet Amanda.  After a brief doctoring and told she would probably have a scare she returned to cleaning the white truck’s engine.

    Tate finished her work and even worked in a shower and a change of clothes.  She stood close to the communication’s trailer and watched the festivities. The soldiers and civilians alike were celebrating the haul with soft drinks and cans of lake-chilled beer.

    Having spent the afternoon at the barn, Larry walked up to the cluster of soldiers and accepted a beer. “Well, looks like we made a good haul. I have a couple things to discuss with Matt. Is he up at the house?”

    “He hasn’t made it back.” Jake answered before glancing over his shoulder toward the gate at the edge of the camp grounds. “I figured he’d be back by now.”

    “Do you think we should go out and look for him?” Dreschel asked.

    Before anyone could answer, Lawson called out from inside the communications trailer called out. “Shut up!”

    Larry put two fingers to his mouth and whistled. The shrill shriek silenced the buzz of voices. The crowd stood frozen in quiet.

    “I heard something. I think it was the Matt.” Lawson, yelled. “Shut up!”

    Tate closed the pen knife she was using to clean oil and grime from under her fingernails. She stepped to the corner of the trail under the open windows.

    A voice broke through the static.  “Monroe to … ly… head… to … Or… Bitch…. Ov… n Out.

    “What did he say?” Larry asked.

    The woman soldier answered. “I couldn’t tell. There was a lot of static. I couldn’t get anything else except “bitch” something.”

    Tate turned and walked back to the white truck. During the few hour she had tossed out the personal items from the previous owner and taken inventory of what was left in the tool box and stored in the multitude of cubbies. She had cleaned the unit, got the sheets washed and with the help of a couple of the women, found all she needed to make a new home.

    She climbed inside the truck cab and turned the key.  She checked the gages and lights, then cranked the engine.

    She put the truck in reverse and made a k-turn. When she cleared the campers and maintenance shed, she headed for the entrance. When the guard made no move to open the gate, she called out the window.

    “Open the fucking gate or I’ll go over it!”

    The soldier hustled to the chain securing the gate and removed it. After a minute, he swung the heavy gateway open.

    Tate eased off the clutch and the rig began to roll forward. She glanced into the side mirror one last time to see Jake and several soldiers running toward her. She gunned the engine and left the camp grounds behind.

    They could catch her with a Humvee, but she didn’t think they would bother. She figured she owed the damned soldier. She was going to repay the debt. She wasn’t one to owe anyone anything.

    She knew where Matt had turned off to lead the infected fuckers away, so she figured she could back track. She could find him. Save his drunk-ass and then…well. She wouldn’t owe him for the truck.

    She turned the CB on channel 19 and then spent the next hour back tracking the roads to the turn off Matt had taken. She headed toward the orange truck they had moved to the side of the road. When she got there, she was disappointed to see half a dozen infected standing around.  At the sound of the truck they turned and stumbled toward her.  She took out three with the truck but the last three had to be taken out with her handgun.  When Matt still didn’t appear, she called out.

    “Monroe! Hey, you around here?”

    The only reply was another three infected stumbling between the two trucks to reach toward the open window. Tate sighed. “Come on ass-hole. If you’re around here give me a sign.”

    Again the only response was the pitiful moans of the infected.  Tate reached behind the seat to retrieve a machete. She put the truck in park and then got onto her knees in the seat. She leaned out the open window and raised her blade and brought it down on the closest head. When the body slipped down to the asphalt, the remaining two monsters stumbled closer. Tate finished both and then pulled herself onto the side of the tuck. She slid over the bench seat and climbed out the passenger window to the top of the door of the Orange Bitch.

    She squatted on the door looking down into the small compartment than had been her home. It hadn’t been disturbed since she had left. She used the steering wheel to ease herself inside. She spent a couple minutes to grab her pillow, and then stuffed clothes into a second pillowcase. She took one last look around and was satisfied she had found everything salvageable from the cab. She tied the bundle and then made her way out of the truck and back into the cab of the white truck.

    Tate slipped the SD disk from her truck’s into the navigation slot of the white truck. She scanned the area for a few minutes and then zoomed in at the intersection nearly ten miles down the side road where Matt had turned. Half a mile beyond was a grid of streets.  Since she was sure it was the road Matt had taken, she thought she could imagine what happened.

    It would be the place to set up a road block if they were protecting a community.  They could turn traffic away.  She could imagine Matt’s surprise when he realized what he had delivered to their doorstep.  He was caught in the line of fire and couldn’t make it to the cross roads so he would have headed out cross country.  She decided, there was only one way to head, back to the highway across open scrub grass and mesquite to the Bitch.

    If he was headed for the highway, then she had a pretty good idea which direction to head to find him but it was nearly dark.  She decided to wait until morning.  She picked up the mic and clicked the button.  She listened but there was no reply. If he was out there he wasn’t listening or unable to respond.

    She backed up the white rig and rolled over the cattle guard heading south and parked a quarter mile from the road.  If he came toward the Orange Bitch, he would stumble right into the white truck.  If not, she’d head out to look for him at dawn.

Thirty minutes later, Matt glanced over his shoulder at the growl of engines in the distance. He figured he was at least four miles from the Humvee and the booze was oozing from his pores. He had guzzled three bottles of water and was fighting the nausea that had crept up with a belly full of water.

With his hands on his knees and his head hanging water and booze exploded from mouth and nose.  He gasped to catch his breath then his stomach clinched and hurled another stream of the fowl mixture across the scrub grass and sand. When his stomach had nothing left to spew across the landscape, dry heaves set in and he fell to his knees.

Still gasping for breath Matt could hear the sound of the engines grow steadily louder.  He recognized the sound of the two ATVs.  The guards were coming after him.

Matt looked up and saw a small rise with a rock formation at the apex in the distance. He climbed to his feet and kicked sand over the evidence of his sickness and stumbled toward the outcropping.  He brushed the blanket in the sand as he walked obscuring his trail.  When he got up the hill, he climbed over a few scattered rocks and worked his way up the sun-bleached stone formation.  He climbed for several minutes and found a turret of limestone to hunker down behind.  He dropped his pack and pulled another bottle of water from his pack.  He threw two white pills back and took a sip of the water to get them down.

The sound of the engines grew louder.  Matt stretched out across a massive flat rock and crawled to a raised ridge. He eased up on his hands and peeked over the edge and saw two dust trails billowing up in the distance. He was right. The defenders were coming after him and were less than a quarter mile away.

He slid down the back face of the rocks and grabbed his pack and lumbered away from the formation.  He began jogging over the rough ground. He felt like shit but still lasted nearly ten minutes before he was forced to stop.  The sound of the engines had begun to fade.  He hoped it meant they had lost the trail.

He took a long drink of water and peeled open an energy bar and bit off a third. It tasted like sawdust and dried crap but he finished it off as quickly as he could chew and wash it down.  He needed the protein and energy after puking up his guts.  He stuffed the wrapper in his pocket and headed north at a brisk walk.

As light faded, Matt thought he heard the engines in the distance then the world faded into night sounds.  Matt watched where he placed his feet while pausing from time to time to listen for the ATVs.  Matt glanced toward the setting sun.

After a few minutes, the engines roared to life. They sound as if they had made it as far as the stone outcropping. Matt worried they might pick up his trail when he heard two shots.  After a minute, three more weapons discharged.  The sound of the engines grew more and more distant.  After a full minute, the sound disappeared entirely.

Matt turned north and began walking.  He walked through the pain and sickness for another hour before changing to a more eastly direction. He imagined the map on the GPS and felt sure he had been about fifteen miles south of the railroad track and blacktop where they had picked up the shipping crates but at least four miles west of the site. He mentally calculated the distance he should be from the Tate’s Orange Bitch.  All he could do was hope Larry and Jake got his message.

The night grew cooler as evening settled over the Texas Hill Country. The cooling temperature was a relief, but the dark left Matt feeling exposed and jumping at every snap of dry twig. The dark could hide all forms a danger: a hole or gully to fall into where he could break a leg, stumble into a nest of monsters, or the men from the roadblock. He saw a cluster of shadows in the distance.

As he drew closer, he realized it was the remnants of a stone house. Only a corner of the structure betrayed the original form. There was a pile of trash at the side of the wall that included cans, a child’s tricycle, a few boards and a piece of plywood. After a couple minutes of considering his options, Matt decided to make a shelter for the night.

He dropped his pack and walked to a nearby mesquite where he broke off a branch. He used the end to brush into the corner to clear any critters that might be lurking and then picked up the plywood from the trash and dropped it in the corner. While he was digging in the trash, he pulled a dozen cans with half-open lids from the pile and set them aside.

He turned back to his pack and pulled out a ball of string from one of the pockets. He walked out into the dark about thirty feet and tied the end of the string to a mesquite about waist high and walked about twenty feet to another mesquite, made a loop to anchor it and walked to another stand of brush, tied it off and did the same thing again and again, until he was back at the original mesquite.

He squatted down and picked up a dozen cans with open lids then walked back out to the string. He stopped at the string and folded the lid over the string. He picked up three pebbles and slid them down the side of the can then walked down the string to repeat the process until he’d hung about a dozen cans.

With the can alarm complete, he used the remaining light to gather five and six inch rocks and tossed them in a random arc about twelve to fifteen feet out form his small corner of the house. He figured any infected approaching would never make it over the rocks without stumbling a few times.

When he was finished, he settled on the scrap of plywood and pulled his pack onto his crossed legs. He pulled another energy bar from the back and his last bottle of water. He stared into the dark as night sounds surrounded him. Each bite of the bar hid the night sounds only as long as it took to swallow the mouthful. He made the protein bar last as long as possible. Eventually he finished it and washed it down with the last of the water. He stuffed the trash back in his pack.  His hand brushed against the glass bottle.  He twisted off the cap and took another pull at the bottle, enjoying the burn as it slid down his throat.  One more swallow, then Matt tucked the bottle back into his bag.

Despite his determination not to fall asleep, Matt jerked awake with a start at the sound of a slight rattle of a tin can. He sat perfectly still and waited. A snort and a snuffle followed by a squeal made Matt reach for a two by four he had found in the trash pile and laid next to him. Matt decided it was a good thing he had made the line waist high.

The sound of the feral hogs behind the wall at his back grew louder. The wild pigs made their way under the string snorting and snuffling. The first of the baby pigs walked around the corner of the structure. The piglets had walked under the string so it was still intact and now the piglet rooted around behind the wall. Suddenly, a terrified squeal shattered the morning quiet. Before the sounded faded pained screeches filled night.

In the dawning light, Matt watched the piglets bolt and run away from the sounds in the distance. All hell broke loose and suddenly the string alarm rattled in multiple directions. Matt jumped to his feet and peaked over the top of the wall. Three infected stumbled after the piglets. Just as he thought he could wait for them to pass, a can in front of him rattled.

“This just gets better and better.” Matt mumbled under his breath.

He grabbed the strap of his backpack with one hand and rifle with the other. He ducked down and hustled past the trash heap into a stand of mesquite. He winced at a jab from a thorn and pushed deeper into the stand. He watched as the number of infected grew.

When day broke, Matt knew he would be visible to the herd that was amassing. He turned from the dozens of infected and studied the tangle of branches. He saw a semblance of a trail through the brush. He knew it would be painful but he had no choice. He dropped to his knees and entered the warren of mesquite.

Matt crawled under a thick branch only to find he had a choice of going left or right. He studied each pathway in the dim light and ended up heading to the left since it seemed to head deeper into the warren. As more light filtered through the leaves and branches overhead he noticed clumps of hair clinging to some of the branches. He was following a wild life trail, probably coyote or badger. Matt figured if he met either it would be bad news.

He flattened himself on the bare dirt and used his elbows and toes to crawl forward. Deeper and deeper he made his way into the maze of tangle of branches and jabbing thorns.  The infected surrounded the grove of mesquite chasing the hogs.  He lay in the dirt smelling animal and listening to the screams of terror and pain when another piglet ran into the arms of an infected.  He was out of water and would probably die in the maze of mesquite.  He spun the cap off the glass bottle.

Matt slowed the Humvee and revved the engine to ensure the infected focused on his vehicle while the big rig trucks with trailers loaded with the shipping containers picked up speed and rumbled ahead. Nearly a mile ahead, they turned off the blacktop and disappeared from sight behind a stand of trees. Before he got to the intersection, Matt turned on a farm-to-market road and stopped about a hundred yards from the intersection.  He pulled the bottle from between the seats and took a long pull at the fiery liquid.  He relished the familiar burn and sighed.  He replaced the cap and stared at his hands until the trembling began to lesson.

He debated about another drink but decided against it, he had to get going.  He laid on the horn and the ghouls quickened their steps.  He let his mind wander to imagine a reunion with Amy and Claire.  He knew they waited and the camp and wanted to get his act together.  They depended on him. He had no kids of his own so he was a little surprised that his attachment to the children had grown so quickly.

Without even thinking about it, he grabbed the bottle, unscrewed the cap and gulped down a double shot’s worth.  He took a second pull before replacing the bottle to its place between the seats.

Amid the warm developing haze of the alcohol flowing through him, Matt wondered about the mother who sacrificed herself for those kids. He imagined Amy must be a lot like her. She had found a place to hide her sister and herself. Then the kid had known enough to silence his drunken rambling to protect the three of them until Larry and Jake had come for him. If not for the little voice calming his drunken mumbling, they would have all died that first night.

He smiled as he realized he wanted and needed to get back to the girls and his camp full of kids. It was his job to protect and provide for the entire lot of them. He decided life had gotten complicated for a man who had once prided himself on staying unattached. He smiled to himself as he thought of Claire in his arms and snuggled against his collar.

A slap on the back window of the Humvee startled Matt from his drunken musing. He looked in the rearview mirror and was stunned. The group of a few dozen infected had grown into a hoard of over a hundred. More slaps against the vehicle sent him into action. He stepped on the break, slipped the vehicle in gear and stepped on the gas.  The Humvee fishtail when he stepped on the accelerator with more force than he intended. He eased his foot off and righted the vehicle.

The Humvee lurched forward and an infected man alongside of the Humvee fell under the back tire. Through the side mirror, Matt watched another infected in a flannel shirt and jeans disappear under the mass of bodies as the vehicle lurched.

Still annoyed he had let himself get distracted, he eased up on the gas and steered the Humvee down the single lane road. The narrow blacktop wound through acres of fallow ground covered in scrub grass and brush. He maintained a speed slow enough to ensure the infected followed. According to the GPS there should be a side road heading north in another mile right after a tight curve.

When he got to the turn off, he figured he could speed up leaving the infected in the brush and scrub grass to cook in the Texas sun where they could do no harm.

As he mused about the possibility of baking brains, he rounded the curve in the road and slammed on the breaks. There was a road block. Before he could decide what to do, men manning the roadblock began firing. The windshield shattered on the passenger side as bullets pinged off the metal of the hood and grill.

Matt jerked the wheel to the right and the Humvee shot over a shallow ditch and into a dilapidated fence at the side of the road. The barbed wire stretched then snapped and he stomped the accelerator. The Humvee barreled through scrub grass and onto the rocky ground beyond. He kept his foot pressed down and maneuvered around mesquite bushes. The shooting behind him continued but seemed to have redirected their attention to the hoard of the infected he had delivered on their door step.

“Fuck!” He cursed as he white-knuckled the steering wheel in frustration. He had led the infected right to someone’s front door. The road block protected access to a community. Matt sobered somewhat as he hoped the guards had enough ammunition to take care of the horde of infected but knew he couldn’t go back. Judging by the initial reception, no amount of talking would convince them he had not led the horde to their doorstep intentionally.

He eased up on the gas and slowed the Humvee to twenty miles an hour. He expanded the map screen on the GPS. The arrow, symbolizing his vehicle, moved across open terrain. He was further from the main roads than he had ever intended to be.

He studied the expanded mapping for a moment and realized his only option was to drive through the scrub grass and mesquite toward an asphalt road several miles away. He contracted  the screen and saw a road number he recognized and aimed the Humvee in the general direction.

He made his ways around gullies and dry streambeds. He fought against the rough terrain all the while with his speed becoming less and less.  With the first wafting cloud of steam he realized his truck was damage.  Matt glanced down at the Humvee’s gages.  He could see the needle climb. The hissing noise coming from under the hood grew louder and he knew repairing the Humvee out in the desolate wild was way beyond his expertise.

His only option was to drive as far as he could, then do whatever he needed to get back to Camp Verde even if it meant walking. Using the online GPS, he knew he was at least thirty miles from the camp. It was not going to be a good afternoon when the Humvee died and it would die.

He activated the mic on the radio. “Home Camp, Monroe here. Over.”

He released the talk button and waited. Static crackled from the speaker but didn’t include words of response. He used the mic a second time, but again the only sound was the crackle of static gradually being overpowered by the struggling engine.

While Matt aimed the Humvee toward the general direction of the railroad tracks, the needle of the temperature gauge pegged out. He estimated the distance at least five miles from his current location.  Steam hissed around the hood in billowing clouds of white. Matt eased up on the gas and the vehicle coasted to a stop. He slammed the shift into park and stepped from the vehicle.

He could still hear sporadic gunfire in the distance as he walked around to the front fender and opened the hood. As Matt looked at the damaged radiator, he pondered the fate of the guards at the roadblock.

He decided with the roadblock and fencing on either side of the road, the men facing the horde could hardly be missing their targets. As long as the ammo lasted, the guards should be able to handle the crisis. Matt shrugged. Nothing he could do about it.

After a few minutes of looking around he saw two bullets embedded in the radiator. Steam hissed around the metal projectiles. Matt dropped the hood. The best he could do was limp along hoping he could make it back to blacktop and find a working vehicle before the Humvee died. He walked back to the door and listened for a minute. The sporadic gunfire was now deliberate and spaced several minutes apart.

“Great. If they have enough ammo left, they’ll be coming after me.” He grumped.

He looked up at the afternoon skies as he cranked the engine. He eased the Humvee into gear pointing the arrow on the GPS toward the highway.

With a sigh, Matt picked up the bottle and emptied the last of the amber liquid and mumbled. “This day is just getting better and better.”

Six minutes later the Humvee died with a clattering of overheated moving parts. The engine locked up with the smell of burning oil and scorching metal wafting up from the front of the vehicle. Matt opened the door and reached into the back seat to grab a go-bag. He was glad they had removed Claire’s car seat from the Humvee before he had left camp.

Matt picked up the mic and spoke into the mic. “Camp, Monroe here. Larry, I’m on foot. Headed to the Orange Bitch. Over.” At the crackle of static he repeated the message. “Larry? Jake?  I’m headed to the Orange Bitch. Over and Out. Pick me up there.” He drove his foot into the dash then reached under the dash to pull wires from the electronics to ensure his sins didn’t follow him home.

He stepped out of the vehicle and settled a pair of sunglasses on his face and a boonie hat on his head. A stiff breeze pelted grains of sand across his bare skin.  He was glad he wore his boots, the black T-shirt and camo pants. It was going to be a miserable walk.

He looked into the vehicle and pulled a wool blanket from the back of the Humvee. He picked up a six pack of plastic bottles of water from behind the seat and dropped them into the pack along with half a dozen energy bars and his bottle of Jack Daniel. He slid the bag over his shoulders and grabbed two corners of the blanket. He had been driving east, so he headed off into the brush and scrub grass toward the north.

Della laid the heat gun on the table and handed the prosthetic back to Steve. “That should do it, but I would give that pressure sore a day or two to recover. It’s pretty tender looking.”

“I can’t afford to be out of commission.” Steve slipped the modified plastic of the prosthetic onto his right leg. He pulled himself up to stand and his weight settled on the prosthetics. He took a step and the tender flesh of his stump sent knifing pain up his leg.

Della pushed the chair up behind him and he collapsed into the seat.

“I’m useless in this chair.”

“Humor me.” Della retorted. “You have to give the nerves time to recover. I plan on going over to the clinic and see if they have a topical that will ease the pain.”

Steve slid both prosthetics from his legs and reached over his shoulder to drop them into bag hanging from the back of the chair.

“Maybe one or two days.” Steve conceded. “I’m still not sure this place is as good as it looks. I haven’t given up on heading up to the place where Randy is staying.”

Della brows furrowed. “I agree off the beaten path is a good idea, but I’m not sure I want to live around Randy. The last time I saw him he really wasn’t stable enough to even hold a conversation without going into a tirade about the Iranians and crazy theories.”

“Look, something scared the shit outta him on his last mission.  Who knows, maybe this was it.”

Steve ended the conversation by placing his hands at the side of the wheels and made a two-wheel one-eighty turn. The wheelchair headed across the cafeteria leaving Della to follow as he called over his shoulder. “Let’s get some breakfast before Zack leaves. I want him to go with me to look around without a guide.”

Della and Steve made their way through a small gathering of people to a serving line and picked up trays. The breakfast choices were limited to dry cereal, scrambled eggs and biscuits. To go along with the biscuits, they offered a steaming white sludge they called gravy without meat.

Steve winked at Della.  “It looks more like paste with fly droppings floating on top than gravy.”

Della chuckled. “My granny would have been beside herself to see white gravy without sausage.”  She suddenly grew silent.  “I’m glad she didn’t live to see this world.”

“I know.” Steve answered.  “My folks were killed a few years back.  I understand the feeling.”

They approached the steam table and a woman wearing a white bibbed apron looked up and smiled.  “What can I get you folks?”

Both Della and Steve settled for eggs and biscuits, no gravy. At the end of the line, a young girl handed each of them a single serving of butter and small dollop of jelly in a plastic container.

“Since you didn’t get gravy, you can have butter and jelly folks. Sorry, but we have a limited supply of both.” The girl smiled. “Rationing.”

Della laughed. “If you knew what we’ve been eating for the last week you’d realize what a luxury it is just to have a taste of butter or jelly.

Steve dropped the condiments on his tray sitting on his lap and grinned at another young woman handing him a cup of coffee.

“Plenty of coffee for now, so come on back for seconds.” The woman advised.

“Sounds great, appreciate it.” He gave her a wink and reached over the sides of the chair to roll toward a table where Zack sat eating his breakfast.

Zack looked up from his tray as Steve rolled across the floor to the edge of the table and placed his tray in front of him. He locked the wheels just as Della settled on a chair across from Zack.

“Well, you get the sticks fixed, man?” Zack asked before taking a bite of biscuit soaked in gravy.

“We’re good.” Steve answered as he began buttering his biscuit. “How did you sleep last night?”

“Not real good. I know they did right by Jimmy, burying him and all, but I keep thinking about his mom.” Zack shrugged. “Are we going to stay here for a while?”

Steve looked to Della. “I don’t know. At least for now it seems safer than the open road.”

“We can’t go back to San Antonio.” Della answered just as Sandy approached the table.

“I’m not leaving here.” Sandy commented as she sat down at the table

“It’s not our decision if we stay or go.” Steve answered.

Zack looked up. “You mean they might not want us to stay?”

“I don’t know.” Steve answered. “I want to check their defenses before we make any long term decisions. Everyone seems friendly and willing to welcome us, but for now let’s just look around and see how they’re set up.”

Sandy waved across the room at a pair of young woman settling at a table. “Well, I’m staying. Those two invited me to move in with them in a house. We have a wide-screen television and everything.” She picked up her tray and walked away.

Della started to follow Sandy, but Steve reached out. “No. Let her be. We have no right to tell her what to do.”

“But….” Della began then closed her mouth and sat back down.

“She wants some semblance of normal. I don’t blame her. If she’s found it here, well, let her be.” Steve commented.

Zack looked at Steve as he used his fork to scoot his last bit of biscuit through smears of gravy. “If you’re going to look around today, do you want me to push your chair?” He wiped at his mouth with a wide grin.

“You can go with…but I got the chair covered.” Steve answered as he buttered both halves of the biscuit. He turned to Della and asked. “Want to come with us?”

“No. I’m heading for the clinic. I might be able to help out. Besides, it might give us a better chance of staying if I offer my services.” Della answered.

Three hours later, Zack and Steve were heading back to the motel from their tour of the town. The entirety of the town was little more than ten acres, no more than a hundred buildings total. The downtown area consisted of twenty or so buildings around a block square park with a pavilion, park benches and a number of trees.  The middle school and library were located on a side street north of the city building while the motel was located on the south side of the park at the corner of a side street.

“Well? What do you think?” Zack asked.

“There isn’t as many people as I thought there would be.” Steve answered. “The older part of town is cut off from the newer upscale construction out by the Walmart. They blocked off the road and put up barricades and a gate. It looks like they moved everyone behind the gate and then cleaned out all the homes and the new box store then finished up by bringing the extra trailers full of canned goods and supplies into town.”

“So you think we should stay?” Zack asked.

“I’m not sure. I want to find some area maps. Let’s head to that library.” Steve answered. “I want to see how far we are from Randy’s.”

Zack shrugged and began walking toward the small red brick building that served as the town library. “I got nothing better to do.”

Once inside the library, Steve found maps of northwest Texas. He focused on an area that was well away from populated areas and at the edge of the Guadalupe Mountain National Park where Randy Matherson lived.

When no one was looking, he pulled a knife from his cargo shorts and slid the blade down the spine of several pages.  He pulled the pages from the book, folded the paper into quarters, and jammed them into the thigh pocket of his shorts.

Finally, he rolled through the shelves of books to find Zack. He was sitting near a collection of gaming magazines. He looked up and grinned at Steve when he rolled up.

“Ready to go?” Zack asked.

Steve nodded and spun the chair toward the door. They headed for the motel at an easy pace, but Zack slipped behind the chair and began to push. Steve relaxed his arms.

When Steve was quiet for most of the way back, Zack finally asked. “What’s going on?”

“I think we need to move on.” Steve answered softly. “This place is bottled up pretty tight. If an infected makes it inside, it’ll be a disaster. There must be almost two hundred people in town. The only firearms are on the two entrances and half a dozen around town. No one is carrying weapons in town.  Frankly, I’m surprised they managed to put down the first attack.”

“When are we leaving?” Zack asked.

Steve shrugged as Zack rolled his chair to the picnic table in front of the motel. “A couple days. I don’t think they have guns to spare, but maybe they can give us a few bullets. I think they’ll let us keep the truck and the provisions we came in with, but maybe they’ll give us a few supplies.”

“What happens if we can’t keep the truck?” Zack mused.

Steve answered with a shrug. “Walk or steal one of the street vehicles. But they don’t look the type to hold us if we want to go. How much help they’ll be is another matter.”

Lunch was a light affair that left both Steve and Zack wanting more, but they walked from the cafeteria thanking the staff anyway. Della caught up with them and followed to the motel. They settled around the picnic table to visit.

“Well?” Della asked.

Steve answered. “We’re fine for now, but when the supplies run low they’ll be in trouble with being so remote. They’re not even thinking about becoming self-sustaining. No gardens are being planted and there has been no effort made to gather livestock or store up firewood for winter.”

Della sighed. “Meaning, there is a finite amount of supplies and no one is planning ahead.”

Steve nodded. “I can try to talk to them, but I really don’t think it’ll matter. Everyone here thinks the government will resolve the problem and things will go back to normal in a month or two…they don’t want to even imagine differently.”

The next day Steve met with the sheriff and mayor and city council.  He spent nearly an hour talking to the gathering of men and women.  They listened politely then dismissed him.  At the door, Steve stopped to listen.

“I’m not tearing it up my yard.  The government will have this resolved and then what?”

“But Gladys, what if they don’t?” Ollie answered.

“Don’t be ridiculous!  We took care of our own infection in less than six hours.” Another voice answered.

Tony cleared his throat. “At a pretty high fucking cost, too.”

Ollie jumped in. “That young man makes a strong argument for preparing for the worst and hoping for the best.  I think this is the case. We should be prepare….”

“We don’t have enough able bodied people to do what you’re asking.”

Steve sighed and spun the wheels of the chair and rolled away from the city council office.  He met Zack at the door.  With a shrug headed for the motel.

“Well, what did they say?”  Zack asked.

“Let’s start gathering supplies.”  Steve answered.

Two days later, the sound of heavy vehicles approaching the motel woke Steve from a sound sleep. He sat up in bed, slipped on his walking prosthetics and pants before crossing the room to the window.