Winchester Undead (Book 2): Winchester: Prey (6 page)

CHAPTER 12

Terlingua, Texas

February 14, Year 1

Across the parking lot from the small hotel room where Bexar had left his still unconscious wife and his daughter stood the hotel office. Leaning against a low stone wall next to the building was a wheelbarrow. Bexar jogged across the parking lot, righted the wheel barrow, and moved quickly to the wrecked Jeep and destroyed RV. Reaching the Jeep, Bexar quickly began loading the wheel barrow with the meager supplies they had escaped with from Big Bend.

After returning to the hotel room with the first load, Bexar dumped the wheelbarrow outside the door. He looked at the zombies he had killed moments before and realized that one of them didn’t look too bad, like he was a freshly turned walker. With a new idea, Bexar hefted the corpse and dumped him into the wheelbarrow before returning to the Jeep. Out of breath but scared to be caught in the open if the bikers came looking for their missing club member, Bexar dumped the corpse by the driver’s door of his Wagoneer. He then lifted the corpse into the front seat, put the seat belt on him and let him slump over the steering wheel before bending the damaged door closed.

Bexar hoped that if he was lucky and if someone found the wreck, they would assume that he was dead behind the wheel and leave it at that. It might give him the chance to hide his family. Two more trips with the wheelbarrow later, everything the family had to survive with was off the road and in their tiny hotel room.

Opening an MRE, Bexar gave Keeley the cracker and the brownie, which finally helped slow his daughter’s crying into weak sobs while she ate. Bexar wet a towel with the water left in the tank of the toilet in the bathroom and started wiping the drying blood off his wife’s face. Bexar worried about what to do. If she had any serious injury or even just a minor internal injury there were no hospitals left and no doctors, and if she died, Bexar wasn’t sure he would be brave enough to put his wife down. He would end up like Malachi. Bexar looked at Keeley, who with a full stomach was playing with the TV remote quietly on the floor, and smiled. He had to survive. Keeley needed him to survive.

“Don’t worry, little one, I’ll always be here for you.” Bexar kissed his daughter on her head and was greeted with a sweet smile. Bexar thought of the world she would be forced to grow up in. The smile broke his heart.

Faintly, Bexar heard the low rumble of motorcycles. He leapt out of his chair, picked up his AR-15, and carefully pulled the corner of the curtain open to peer outside. The rumbling exhaust note of the motorcycles grew louder and Bexar realized he was holding his breath. He forced himself to take a deep breath and to try to keep his heart rate under control.

The seconds felt like they slowed to hours as the sound of motorcycles drew closer and they finally appeared in Bexar’s view. Two motorcycles slowed as they approached the wreck and appeared to stop by the motorcycle parked on the shoulder. The hotel’s office mostly blocked the view. A van pulled up behind the motorcycles and Bexar recognized it as the same one the biker gang had in the Basin, the one with the big machine gun. Two men climbed out of the van and joined the other two, who had dismounted their motorcycles. Two of the men carried the dead biker and put him in the back of the van; another carried the damaged AR-10 rifle and put it with the body in the van. Bexar couldn’t be sure what they were doing, but after a few minutes the motorcycles started with a roar and rode off back the way they’d come, followed by the van and one of their men riding the dead biker’s motorcycle.

Bexar continued to watch out of the window for a full minute after they rode out of view and realized he was holding his breath again. With a loud sigh, he left the window and sat on the edge of the bed. He took his unconscious wife’s hand in his and said, “Jessie, I’m sorry, baby. We’ve got to move. We can’t stay here. We’re too close to the highway. We need to hide.”

CHAPTER 13

El Paso, Texas

February 14, Year 1

“That’s the dumbest plan you’ve ever come up with, Odin.”

“Fine, Chivo. Tell me why
you
think it won’t work.”

“Oh no, I think it will work, but it’s still fucking stupid. Stupid white-trash tricks. What the hell is it with your people and riding lawn mowers?”

“They’re multipurpose. You can mow your yard and then ride it to Walmart for more beer. A very versatile machine, the lawn tractor.”

They found the key for the Chrysler hanging on a nail by the side door. Odin pushed the riding lawn mower out of the backyard shed. Apollo unlocked the Chrysler, put the car in neutral, and waited for the signal from Chivo in the front yard. Chivo walked to the far corner of the yard away from the driveway, the group of undead following him, excitedly bouncing off the fence and trying to reach their fresh meal. He raised his rifle and took aim at the closest walking corpse.

The triangle reticle of the ACOG on his rifle rested on the rotting forehead seen through the optic, his chosen first kill. Chivo pressed the trigger to the rear and the plan was rapidly set in motion by the loud bark of his rifle. The shattered skull fragments and rotting brain matter covered the other walking dead in the group, and before the first kill’s body hit the ground, Chivo’s second shot exploded another rotting skull.

Apollo ran to the gate which was closed across the driveway, pushed open the latch and threw both sides open while the riding lawn mower coughed to life in a cloud of white smoke. Odin laughed wildly as the lawn mower roared past Apollo, who ran back to the front of the Chrysler. Legs pumping, Apollo pushed the big four-door car down the driveway before it bounced into the street. Chivo ran past Apollo and to the old truck behind the house, climbed into the cab and turned the key to the sound of an old tired motor turning over slowly. Chivo turned the ignition off and back on again, pumping the gas. Rifle fire from the front of the house filled his ears while he tried to get the old truck to start.

Three tries later, the old truck burst to life with a loud backfire, a heavy cloud of black smoke pouring out of the exhaust pipe. Chivo jammed the selector to reverse and slammed his foot on the gas pedal, spinning the tires and hitting the shed with the truck. He jerked the selector to drive and spun the tires down the driveway before sliding to a stop on the road in front of the house. Apollo climbed into the passenger seat, cranked the manual window open, and hung out the open window with his rifle, quickly engaging the mob of new rotted bodies pouring into the street towards the truck from behind the surrounding houses.

“What the shit, Chivo? I thought you grew up stealing cars in Laredo.”

“Fuck you, punta, and don’t fucking shoot Odin.”

Chivo punched the accelerator and jerked the old Ford around the large group of undead following the riding lawn mower before pulling alongside Odin. Odin tossed his rifle into the bed of the truck before he grabbed the bedrail and leapt into the bed headfirst. The mower’s kill switch stopped the motor immediately, and the following herd of undead crashed into the stopped mower before turning to follow the truck as it sped around the corner. Chivo made the block and bumped across the sandy ground and through the section of fence to the highway that they’d cut down to get to the house, before they bounced onto the Cesar E. Chavez Border Highway.

Taking a couple of deep breaths, Chivo resisted the urge to drive as fast as he could. Instead, he kept the truck’s speedometer on thirty miles per hour so he could outpace the following dead but still easily maneuver around the debris, abandoned vehicles, and shambling dead that appeared in their path.

None of the team members were intimately familiar with the surface streets in El Paso, although they knew the basic layout of the highways. The only way they really knew how to get to Fort Bliss was right through the heart of the city and into one of the main gates. Odin stood in the bed of the truck, leaning on the roof of the cab with his rifle, dropping the undead that posed an immediate threat to his teammates. Apollo attempted to help Chivo navigate while leaning out of the passenger’s side window, firing his rifle.

Ten minutes later Apollo was out of ammo for his M4 and began pulling loaded magazines from the pouches on Chivo’s armor carrier. Chivo took the exit ramp for Patriot Freeway, swerving around more abandoned vehicles on the flyover. As they approached the zoo, Odin banged on the roof of the cab and yelled “Stop the truck!”

Chivo slammed on the brakes and the truck slid to a stop.

“What the hell, Odin?”

“Look on the other side of the highway, up on the top of the sign.” Odin pointed even though his teammates in the truck couldn’t see him. Standing on the supports of the exit signs spanning the highway was a woman waving both arms above her head. A low guardrail and a small chain-link fence separated the other side of the highway, so the closest Chivo could get the truck was next to the base of the sign between the lanes. Below the woman two dozen rotting corpses stood reaching towards her, moaning, their hands grasping the air above their heads, trying to reach their prey.

Odin shouldered his rifle and began thinning the swarm of undead. Apollo left his rifle in the truck, climbed out and drew the pistol holstered on his right thigh. Walking quickly around the front of the truck, his feet rolling heel to toe, the muzzle of the raised pistol glided perfectly flat through the air as the slide rocked back with each fired round. One by one each of the staggering undead fell to the pavement, spattered with skull fragments and rotted black brain matter.

Reaching the base of the sign, Apollo called up to the woman. “Are you OK?”

“Yes,” she responded weakly.

“Are you bit?”

“No.”

“Can you climb down?”

“I don’t think I can.”

Chivo stood at the front of the still-running truck, scanning outward for any new threats, and saw a white panel van about ten yards away with “Garcia’s Painting” on the side.

“Apollo, hang on for a sec.”

Odin looked to where Chivo gestured and ran to the van to help retrieve the ladders bungeed to its roof. They brought back the longest extension ladder to the base of the sign and extended the ladder as far as it would go.

“Can you get to the ladder and climb down now?”

“I’ll try.”

The woman visibly shook while climbing through the middle of the big metal span, carefully stepping on each metal brace. Reaching the ladder, she climbed over the edge and slowly climbed down one rung at a time. Once on the pavement, she collapsed. Apollo carried her back to the old Ford, Chivo picking off the curious undead that were shambling towards the truck.

Odin climbed into the bed of the truck while Apollo set the young woman on the bench seat of the cab beside Chivo and climbed in behind her. Her face was badly sunburned, her lips cracked and her hair matted. She looked severely dehydrated. Chivo put the truck in drive and continued towards Fort Bliss.

“My name is Tyrone but everyone calls me Apollo. That’s Chivo and behind us is Odin.”

Weakly she nodded and said, “I’m Lindsey.”

“How long have you been stuck up there, Lindsey?”

“Nineteen days.”

Apollo looked at her with disbelief. “Did you have any food or water?”

“No. I had a few Powerbars, but those only lasted four days. Each morning I scrubbed the frost off the metal for water.”

“How did you end up on the sign?”

“My scooter ran out of gas and I was chased up there by those things.”

Apollo reached into the cargo pocket on his filthy pants and retrieved a mashed Snickers bar. Lindsey took the candy bar but couldn’t eat it, her mouth too dry to even chew. Chivo handed her the tube of his Camelbak, from which she quickly took long drinks of water.

“Slow down, senorita. You’ll get sick if you drink too much water too fast.”

Lindsey nodded and nibbled on the Snickers bar as quickly as she dared.

CHAPTER 14

Terlingua, Texas

February 14, Year 1

Bexar looked out the window of the little hotel room, the desert floor turning a deep shade of purple from the setting sun. No more motorcycles had ridden past on the main road, but there was undead activity down near the Jeep. Bexar guessed that all the noise of the gunfire and the wreck that morning had drawn them out of the desert and wherever they had come from before that. Jessie finally regained consciousness around midafternoon, but was still nauseous and dizzy with an obvious concussion.

“Jess, I think we need to move up the hill and away from the main road. We can hide up there until I can find us another vehicle to use.”

“OK, but when do you want to go up the hill?”

“Once the sun goes down some more. There aren’t any clouds in the sky so I should be able to see, but I want the darkness in case any more bikers come by.”

Jessie lay on the bed with her eyes closed, trying to will the headache away. The only pain relievers they still had were a handful of Extra Strength Tylenol, and they simply weren’t extra strength enough. Bexar sat on the floor playing with Keeley, checking out of the window every few minutes.

With the setting sun the hotel room grew darker and before long Bexar decided that it was dark enough outside to start his plan. “Keep the rifle. I’m taking my pistol and knife. I’ll tap on the door four times when I come back.”

Bexar helped his wife to a chair by the door, handed her his rifle, kissed her gently on the forehead, and slowly opened the door. Once outside he closed the door as quietly as he could and smiled when he heard the hotel security latch slide closed behind the door. As Bexar walked quickly across the parking lot, a single corpse, a nude and quite heavyset woman, stumbled toward him. Bexar closed the distance and plunged his heavy CM Forge knife through her right eyeball, deep into her skull.

The eyeball burst with pus around the blade of the knife as the body went limp and flopped to the ground. The pus smelled wretched and Bexar wiped the thick fluid off his knife on the woman’s skin as best he could before turning to walk up the hill towards the Terlingua Ghost Town.

Bexar resisted the urge to use the buildings as cover, choosing to stay in the middle of the street so he couldn’t be surprised by any more walking corpses. As he passed the sparse buildings, silence flooded his ears. Within a few minutes he reached a bar and grill on the side of the road. The inside of the windows looked dirty in the moonlight, like they were smeared with dried blood, and although Bexar couldn’t see movement in the dark windows, he seemed to feel it, the hairs on the back of his neck standing. Bexar decided that if there were undead in that building, they could stay there. Besides, Bexar thought, if he cleared the building with it being so close to the main road, it would be a sign that someone living had been through there.

Ten minutes later Bexar stepped onto the long front porch of the Starlight Theatre. He started at the left end of the building with the trading post. The front door was unlocked. Bexar retrieved a rock from the parking lot, opened the door, and threw the rock into the dark interior with a loud crash. Immediately, a loud moan erupted from the dark doorway.

With another rock, Bexar propped the door open and waited on the front porch for whatever was inside to shamble outside to meet him. Inside it sounded like the walking body was slowly getting closer to the front of the store, crashing into displays and knocking things over. Eventually an old man stumbled through the open doorway, face slack and dead eyes locked open, torn skin hanging in sheets from his ruined neck. Bexar plunged his knife into the bridge of the man’s nose, through the nasal cavity and deep into the skull. The old man crashed onto the wooden porch.

Bexar reached into his pocket and retrieved the Surefire light and stepped into the dark store, closing the door behind him. Close to five minutes later he was finished clearing the store, confident that the old man was the only one who had been inside. Returning to the front of the store, Bexar was greeted by another corpse, an old man standing at the door and peering through the glass. Bexar walked away from the door to one of the large front windows, tapped on the glass, and shone his light at the undead man. He took the bait and stumbled away from the door. Bexar turned off the light, rushed outside and drove his heavy knife into the right temple of the second old man. The rotted body fell to the porch with a wet thump, and Bexar stepped over it to continue to the Starlight Theatre.

The restaurant and bar was also unlocked but empty. Bexar smiled, seeing that the bar had not been raided and the liquor bottles twinkled in the light cast by his flashlight. Outside Bexar was happier still to see that he’d remembered correctly and that the hotel was comprised of little cabins spread out in the area. Bexar walked north to the closest cabin and found it unlocked and empty of anyone living, dead, or otherwise. Satisfied he could safely move his family to their new accommodations, he turned and walked down the hill back towards the highway and the small hotel.

Fifteen minutes later Bexar held a sleepy Keeley in his arms while Jessie held onto his shoulder for support as they walked up the hill towards the Starlight. Once they were settled in their new cabin it took Bexar three more trips with the wheelbarrow to move the meager supplies and provisions they still had to their new cabin. The moon hung high overhead and Bexar wasn’t sure what time it was, but he felt like it was well after midnight. Back in the cabin, Bexar found his wife and daughter asleep before falling into a dream-filled fitful sleep in a chair by the door himself.