Winchester Undead (Book 2): Winchester: Prey (20 page)

CHAPTER 44

The Basin

February 17, Year 1

“What in the hell was that?” Lindsey yelled.

Both Lindsey and Apollo lay flat on the asphalt; Lindsey had no idea what had happened, just that Apollo had pushed her to the ground before he joined her.

“Fucking IED is what that sounded like.”

“Like in Iraq?”

“Yes.”

“What now?”

“You get the Land Rover and drive all the way up this road towards the cabins until you find me. If I think it’s a trap, I’ll come back down and meet you.”

“But …”

“No buts, go!”

Lindsey frowned at Apollo before hopping to her feet and running down the hill to where they’d left the Land Rover parked. Apollo climbed to his feet and jogged up the hill with his rifle ready. Before passing the two bodies of the bikers, Apollo fired a single shot into each one’s skull to make sure they wouldn’t get up again.

At the top of the hill, the destruction was incredible. The three stand-alone stone buildings to Apollo’s right and in front of him were mostly destroyed and burning. The long row of cabins to his left were also catching fire. Chivo came from behind further west, jogging down the hill with the big Barrett fifty-caliber rifle over his shoulder.

“Our guy is on the other side of those cabins. You check here and I’ll go after our guy.”

Apollo flashed a quick thumbs-up and checked each of the bodies on the pavement. The bikers without any heads were obvious; Chivo did incredible work. There were two women on the pavement; both had burn marks on their bodies and one of them was nude. One of the women was very obviously dead; a large piece of shrapnel was lodged into her forehead and her eyes were open, focused on infinity in death. The other woman looked OK except for being nude and having what appeared to be a gunshot wound to the right calf. Apollo took out a pair of latex gloves, put them on and checked for a pulse, then took the stethoscope out of the MOLLE webbing on his chest carrier and checked for any signs of life. He couldn’t find anything. Her eyes were closed, but Apollo was sure she was dead. Apollo stuffed the stethoscope back into his gear and moved on to the other bodies. Each body he checked, he found completely lifeless. If the biker they’d interrogated was correct, they were one body short. Apollo didn’t know about the other two bikers Bexar had killed up the mountain by the water tanks.

Chivo returned with a limp body over his shoulders.

Apollo looked at Chivo and shrugged. Chivo nodded. “He’s alive.”

Apollo raised his eyebrows and before he could say anything, the Land Rover pulled up beside them. Chivo lay the unconscious man in the back of the Land Rover. “I’m going back for my rifle and this guy’s bag. Prep for depart in five mikes,” he said as he held up an open hand.

Apollo flashed another thumbs-up. This was like their year in Afghanistan and the terrain kind of looked like it too. Apollo pulled his stethoscope out again, along with a pair of EMS shears. He cut off the man’s boots and all of his clothing before doing a blood check, rubbing the body to check for any blood that would signify an open wound. He found none except a gunshot wound to the right thigh that didn’t look fresh and looked like it might be infected. Lindsey climbed into the front passenger’s seat and Apollo handed her an IV bag. “Hold this up until I can rig something to hold it.” Apollo started an IV as quickly and cleanly as any emergency room nurse. He’d trained and practiced as a combat medic in the Army Special Forces; that training was continued after he left to work for the CIA. Once the IV was taped down, Apollo unfolded a silver foil-like emergency blanket and wrapped the man in it followed by one of their poncho liners. Chivo returned just as Apollo ran a length of 550 cord from the roof rack through the door and across the ceiling to tie off on the other side of the vehicle. With a carabiner, he hung the IV on the line and gave a thumbs-up to Chivo, who handed Lindsey the man’s bag and his big sniper rifle before climbing behind the wheel of the Land Rover.

Not waiting to see if the missing biker turned up with the fifty-caliber machine gun, Chivo drove quickly down the road and away from the basin. They needed to check in on the SATCOM with Cliff, but they also needed to get to a secure place.

CHAPTER 45

The Basin

February 17, Year 1

Jessie’s mind slowly came into focus, and it took some time for her to figure out where she was and what had happened. Her eyelids opened to find a pale blue sky and trees, but she couldn’t hear anything. Wait—she could hear a high-pitched ringing in her ears, but she knew that it wasn’t a real sound; it was her ears protesting against an assault to her ear drums. But what happened to cause it? Jessie sat up and realized she was completely nude. She felt dizzy. Her hands were tied together with some rope. Turning her head, she saw that there were dead bodies on the asphalt and that the cabins were on fire. The cabins. She was in the park in the basin. The events before the explosion came back in a flood. She’d been kidnapped by the biker gang and had been savagely beaten. Jessie looked at her crotch and wasn’t sure if she had been raped, but she could remember the beatings, the darkness, and being pissed on. Jessie was sure if she didn’t flee, she would be violated sooner or later.

Jessie stood. Her right leg failed her and she fell to the road, painfully unable to catch herself with her hands tied. Tears welled up in her eyes and she wanted nothing more than to sit and cry, but Jessie knew that she had no time to feel sorry for herself. She had to get free; she had to get her mind right and she had to survive.

Bexar.

She remembered seeing a glimpse of Bexar with his AR, but the memory wasn’t clear and Jessie wasn’t completely sure she hadn’t imagined her husband being there. Gingerly, Jessie stood again and very carefully hobbled to where the biker’s leader lay dead on the pavement. His large KaBar knife was still on his belt. Jessie pulled the knife out, sat on the ground, and put the handle of the knife between her feet so she could rub the rope against the blade. A few moments of work and the rope fell away from her wrists, dark red abrasions burned into her skin. Jessie took the knife in her hand and stood. Carefully she checked the biker’s vest and found a pistol. A press check told her that a round was in the chamber. Jessie pressed the magazine release and found that the Glock 21 had six rounds left in the magazine. With the round in the chamber, Jessie had seven rounds to her name.

Blood still poured from the wound in her calf, a chunk of meat missing where the bullet tore through her flesh as it passed by. Jessie limped to the next biker and found he was missing his head. She used the knife and cut off large strips of the dead biker’s t-shirt, which she folded over her bleeding calf and then tied tightly into a makeshift bandage.

She limped to the last cabin, the cabin she and Bexar had lived in a few weeks earlier. The front wall was missing and the roof that had collapsed was smoldering in front of her eyes, but some of the structure and the back wall still stood. Jessie walked slowly towards what remained of the cabin and walked into the rubble. The dresser was broken beneath the fallen roof, but Jessie still found a pair of her pants and one of Bexar’s t-shirts. Even without shoes or underwear, a pair of jeans and a t-shirt was better than nothing.

Limping out of the ruined cabin, Jessie looked at the bodies lying on the ground around her. The smallest biker was her choice; she walked to his body and pulled the leather boots off his feet. Square-toed with a strap across the front and a metal ring on the side, the boots were far from functional for anyone doing anything other than riding a motorcycle. They were two sizes too large, but boots too large are better than no boots at all, and Jessie put them on. Jessie looked at each of the bodies on the ground and didn’t see Bexar. She walked to the walkway between the cabins and didn’t see him or his body there either.

Maybe he was able to get away. Maybe he thought I was dead and left. Maybe he’s chasing a biker that got away. Maybe he was never here at all. Maybe he’s in Terlingua. Maybe he never came back from Lajitas. I need to get out of here.

Jessie limped back to the parking area, the boots clomping on the stone walkway.
Motorcycle boots, I never thought I would be wearing motorcycle boots. Motorcycle. The bikers had bikes nearby
. A handful of bikes lay in ruins from the blast, so Jessie gingerly limped down the hill towards the motels and the basin’s store.

In the parking lot, she saw two more motorcycles, but even better yet she saw Malachi’s International Scout. It was intact and looked to be just fine. She found the keys hanging from the ignition. The motor started effortlessly. She put the truck in gear and drove out of the parking lot, out of the basin and towards Terlingua with half a tank of gas and more questions than answers.

Big Bend National Park

The Land Rover turned north on Main Park Road and sped through the desert at seventy miles per hour in contempt of the marked forty-five miles per hour speed limit signs. Chivo drove as fast as he thought safe; Apollo continued to tend to the man they were sent to find; although Cliff had sent them in search of a group thought to be overrun by a biker gang, they only had one survivor. Apparently, they’d been overrun, but at least they were able to save one even if they left a dozen bodies on the pavement after the blast. Apollo still wasn’t sure why the explosion happened. From the exploded remains of a vehicle, it appeared that it was a car bomb, but he couldn’t figure out how or why there would be a car bomb. It didn’t matter how or why. They’d gotten their high-value target and were rushing back to the underground cache site, hoping that the unconscious man would survive the effects from the blast … and the infected leg. It was still too early to tell.

Chivo continued north, and twenty minutes later, the group drove through Marathon, but not after dodging a dozen zombies shambling across the main road in town. Apollo continued to check the man’s vitals, which hadn’t changed, and hoped that he would regain consciousness soon. The Land Rover turned right and pushed north on Highway 67. Apollo, with a lack of anything else to do, began teaching Lindsey what he was doing and why, although he didn’t have a blood pressure cuff. He wished he did, but it didn’t matter since he didn’t have any medications to inject into the man if his blood pressure dropped. No, in this brave new world all Apollo could do was hope for the best.

Apollo reached behind the seat and brought the man’s backpack to his lap, opened it, and began removing the contents. Pmags full of ammo, bottles of water, some snacks, a couple of broken-down MREs, and a good handful of firecrackers. It was like a teenager packed the bag, but it dawned on Apollo that it could be all the man was able to scavenge, and the most important thing to have is just about always ammo. Next, Apollo inspected the man’s rifle and pistol. Both were well worn, but obviously maintained and recently cleaned. The cutoff remains of the man’s clothing were next, and Apollo was surprised at the large heavy knife on the belt. The belt looked high-quality, except that it was forever ruined, cut clean through by Apollo’s EMS sheers. Blood stained the blade of the big knife, and same with the Emerson folder clipped inside one of the pockets.

The sun blazed straight overhead as they approached I-10. Chivo, aware of what they’d encountered just hours before at I-10, stopped the Land Rover well short of the bridge. Apollo, Lindsey, and Chivo climbed out of the still-running SUV and stood on top of the big gear rack on the roof. Chivo held the field glasses to his eyes and scanned ahead of them.

“The bridge is gone.”

“Gone?”

“Yeah, like demoed gone. I can see where it was. I can see where it is missing. It’s fucking gone, mano.”

Chivo handed the field glasses to Apollo, who scanned the bridge as well.

“Damn.”

A dust cloud hung in the air near the Interstate.

“What do you think, Chivo?”

“Recon. Leave your
latiga
and we can check it out.”

“You know what? Fuck you, man. Let it go.”

Chivo shrugged, climbed off the roof of the Land Rover, and started walking up the roadway towards the Interstate.

“Lindsey, stay on the roof, stay cool, and keep your M4 ready. We’ll be back in a few minutes. We’re going to check this out.”

Lindsey nodded and stood still on the roof of the SUV holding her M4 rifle.

Apollo climbed down and jogged to catch up with Chivo.

“Lay off me and Lindsey, man.”

“Why?”

“You know what? If you haven’t noticed, the world has gone to shit. If we find comfort in each other, then fuck it. It isn’t like we’re going to live very long in our new world. We might as well have a companion for it. It isn’t like we’re on a mission. Now we’re just having to survive. This is worse than Panama.”

“Fine, but you lose your edge and let my ass get bitten by those fucking things and I will fucking kill you.”

Apollo smiled and punched his buddy in the shoulder.

“Besides, this isn’t as bad as Panama, but it is much worse than fucking Bolivia. Fuck, that one sucked.”

“Yeah, it did.”

Both of the men stopped well short of the bridge, but could see what the dust cloud was from. The passing undead were like nothing they had seen; there were more than before. Many more.

“Holy shit. The fucking zombies knocked the bridge down. Unass it, dude. We’ve got to figure out a new plan.”

The large herd of undead pushed up the embankment and some of the numbers reached the frontage road. The stream of walking dead was at least one hundred feet wide and stretched as far as they could see. The stench affronted them even from two hundred feet away.

“Looks like we have a fan club.” Apollo pointed to the frontage road on their left. Close to three dozen undead ambled towards them.

“Shit on this. Time to haul ass.”

Apollo and Chivo jogged back towards the Land Rover, Apollo circling his hand above his head. Lindsey didn’t know what that meant, but correctly guessed it was time to go; she climbed down and into the still-running Land Rover. Chivo took the wheel, made a fast U-turn, and backtracked at a high rate of speed. After ten minutes of fleeing the approaching horde, Chivo turned off the highway and onto a dirt road to put a little distance between them and the highway before he stopped the SUV.

Apollo climbed out, pulled the Pelican case with the SATCOM out of the cargo area, and began setting up the antenna; they needed to check in with Groom Lake.