DEAD AMERICA

THE SECOND MONTH

EL PASO - CREEPING DEATH

PARTS 1 - 6

BY:  DEREK SLATON

© 2021

BOOKS:

1. PART 1

2. PART 2

3. PART 3

4. PART 4

5. PART 5

6. PART 6

FOLLOW NEW RELEASES AT:

www.DeadAmericaBooks.com

PART 1

BY DEREK SLATON

© 2021

PROLOGUE

The first month of the Texas Zombie Virus was a difficult one for the survivors. The pandemic raged across the country, infecting anyone with A-type blood, and turning them into flesh-hungry undead.

Meanwhile, the Rivas Cartel launched their invasion into the United States. Ten thousand heavily armed men stormed across the border, slaughtering anyone deemed a threat, and enslaving those that were seen as useful. The police force in El Paso didn’t stand a chance, and quickly became overwhelmed, ceding control of the city to the violent drug cartel.

A fortunate few managed to escape to the town of Fabens, several miles to the east of El Paso. Aided by Rodriguez, the right-hand man of Tiago Rivas, the head of the cartel, these survivors created a safe haven for themselves.

Through a series of dangerous excursions to the surrounding towns in search of goods for Tiago, they managed to create an uneasy coexistence with the cartel. As long as they were able to keep providing them with useful things they wanted, such as high-end alcohol, Fabens was safe for another day.

Led by former homicide detective Rogers, and former military intelligence officer Leon, the survivors in town had taken an active role in fighting back against their oppressors. Four rogue soldiers led by Sergeant Hammond led a daring operation to assassinate Tiago Rivas and take down the cartel once and for all.

While they managed to wound him, they did not succeed in eliminating him. This failure resulted in their self-imposed exile from the town, in order to protect the others that remained from getting blamed for the assassination attempt.

The soldiers took up residence a hundred miles to the east, on the other side of Fort Stockton, hunkering down with a handful of new allies.

As the second month in this new world begins, the survivors’ struggles are far from over…

CHAPTER ONE

The sun peeked over the horizon as Whitaker knelt beside the large generator that ran the makeshift house they were staying in.

Landry and Jeff stood beside a small box of tools, watching her intently.

“Screwdriver,” Whitaker said, holding out her hand.

Landry cocked his head. “Phillips or flathead?” he asked.

“Flat,” she replied.

He fished out the proper screwdriver from the box and stuck it in her awaiting palm.

She took it and rattled around in the generator for a moment. “Okay, try it now,” she said, sitting back.

Landry motioned to Jeff, who reached down and grabbed the pull-starter. He gave it a good yank, and the engine sputtered a moment before cutting out. He took a deep breath to try again, but Whitaker raised a hand to stop him.

“Hang tight,” she said, “I see the problem.” She fiddled around with the motor for another moment, before giving it a good smack with the handle of the screwdriver.

She got to her feet, waving Jeff out of the way, and then grabbed the pull chain and gave it a hard rip. The generator rumbled loudly to life, purring happily.

“Guess we can start adding some DVDs to the shopping list whenever we go out,” Jeff declared, nodding appreciatively.

Whitaker reached down and flipped the power off. “We’re going to need to find a good fuel source before we start wasting it on movies,” she replied, shaking her head. “We’re in November… at least I think we’re in November. Who the hell can tell anymore? Regardless, it’s going to be getting cold soon, and we’re going to need heat.”

“Not sure where we’re getting it at,” Landry replied thoughtfully. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m in no hurry to go back into Fort Stockton.”

Whitaker shrugged. “Guess we’re headed east, then,” she said. “I mean, if we want this thing up and running, that is.”

“Hope you’re ready for a drive then,” Jeff said, stretching his arms above his head. “Because there ain’t a goddamn thing for miles.”

Landry shrugged. “Can’t be that bad,” he said. “So what if we have to drive ten, twenty miles to hit a station?”

Jeff shook his head. “Try sixty or seventy,” he explained. “Minimum.”

Landry sighed, his shoulders sagging. “This is going to be a long ass day, isn’t it?” he whined.

“What, did you have other plans?” Whitaker teased, smacking him on the shoulder.

Landry cleared his throat, pretending to pull an imaginary list from his back pocket and thumb through it. “Oh, let’s see, hmm…” he said as he checked his invisible schedule. “Ah, here we go. Sit on my ass, have a bit of lunch, sit on my ass some more, and if time permits, throw some smaller rocks at larger ones in the distance.”

“Wow!” Whitaker gasped, putting a hand to her chest. “Four whole things!”

Landry cocked a brow. “You sound surprised,” he said.

“I am,” she quipped. “I had no idea you could count that high.” She waved for the two men to follow her as they shared a laugh. “Come on, let’s go see who’s coming with us.”

They walked away from the generator and up the stairs to the makeshift apartment. As they entered, Sparks and Rufus waved at them from the couch. Sergeant Hammond was in the kitchen, the sounds of dishes clanging.

“Oh lord, Sarge is cooking again,” Landry said loudly.

Whitaker playfully shuddered. “I still have nightmares about the last time,” she said in horror.

“Hey, I heard that!” Hammond barked from the kitchen.

“Good, because I can still taste whatever god awful meat you cooked that night!” Whitaker called back.

There was a sharp laugh before the clanging continued.

“So what’s the story on the generator?” Rufus asked, sitting forward.

Whitaker plopped herself down on the couch opposite him. “I got her fixed up,” she replied, “so she should run smoothly. We just need to stock up on fuel.”

“Let me grab my gun and we’ll head out,” Rufus said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

Sparks put a hand on his arm before he could get up. “You’re not going to wait on breakfast?”

“You heard the lady,” he drawled, motioning to Whitaker, “last meal he cooked gave her nightmares. Already had enough of those eating MREs in the jungle.”

“You know I can hear y’all, don’t you?” Hammond quipped playfully from the kitchen.

Rufus sat back against the couch, his cheeks pinking a little with embarrassment as Sparks laughed at his expense.

Mary emerged from the bedroom, a haggard looking Ricky behind her. His arm was in a sling, and he moved a lot slower than her.

“Morning everyone,” Mary said, but the brightness sounded forced.

“Lo and behold, the dead walk!” Rufus declared, motioning to his injured friend.

Ricky gave a halfhearted shrug. “Well, I figured everybody else was doing it, and I just wanted to fit in,” he joked.

“Nothing like a little peer pressure to get you off your ass,” Jeff said, and laughter rippled through the room.

Sparks turned to Ricky. “So how are you feeling?” she asked, motioning to his bandaged shoulder.

He shrugged his good one, glancing down at the bullet wound that seemed to be now on the mend. “I don’t know what those drugs were that you were feeding me, but they did the trick,” he replied. “Not going to be winning any pushup contests anytime soon, though.”

“Oh honey,” Mary said, patting his head gently. “Let’s be honest, you were never going to win any pushup contests anyway.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Never let it be said that my better half kicks a man while he’s down,” he said, raising his good hand. “She waits until he staggers to his feet.”

More laughter erupted throughout the group as the couple found their seats around the coffee table. A moment later, Hammond emerged from the kitchen with a tray full of breakfast sandwiches.

“Sorry these aren’t McDonald’s quality,” he said as he set them down on the coffee table with a flourish, “but hopefully they hit the spot.”

Whitaker raised an eyebrow. “I think we’ll settle for not making us violently ill, Sarge,” she said dryly.

Hammond smirked and picked up one of the sandwiches, taking a big bite and making a show of chewing it and swallowing it.

The others each took one, his team carefully inspecting them. Landry poked the Spam and eggs suspiciously, and Whitaker did the same.

“Hey Hammond,” Landry drawled, “don’t mean to seem ungrateful or anything, but… where did you find eggs at? I haven’t seen a chicken since this thing began, so unless you have a medical condition you haven’t shared with the rest of us, I’m a bit concerned.”

“Don’t worry, they’re powdered eggs,” Hammond replied, rolling his eyes. “I found a few boxes of them in the back of the truck.”

“Well that explains the cardboard taste,” Rufus said through a mouthful of food. “But hey, protein is protein… at least that’s what they told us when they were passing out our MREs.”

Hammond shrugged. “Well, chefs are only as good as their ingredients, so if you find me something better, I’ll gladly whip it up,” he replied.

Rufus and Sparks each took another bite and then shared a look that confirmed they both agreed it tasted like cardboard.

“We’ll add it to the shopping list when we head out today,” the redhead said.

Rufus took a deep breath. “Are we really going into Fort Stockton again?” he asked.

“I think we need to head back east,” Jeff suggested. “I remember seeing a sign for some small shitberg about an hour back.”

Sparks shrugged. “Not a terrible idea, really,” she agreed. “Should be far enough away from Junction and whatever that other town we stopped over in.”

“And if it’s that isolated, it can’t be that big,” Rufus added. “Shouldn’t be too many of those things, and if there were, people who escaped there wouldn’t have been enough of them to have a run on the gas station.”

Whitaker nodded, raising a hand. “Landry and I can head out after breakfast to stock up on fuel.”

“Rufus and I will tag along as well,” Sparks said.

Landry cocked a brow. “Four of us in the SUV isn’t going to leave much room for gas,” he said slowly.

“Guess I’ll just have to steal a car then when we get out there,” Rufus declared with a shrug.

Sparks eyed him playfully. “You know I’m a cop, right?”

“Gotta get you to use handcuffs on me somehow, girl,” he replied with a saucy wink.

She scoffed and smacked him on the arm, but couldn’t keep the goofy smile from her face.

“If y’all are headin’ out,” Ricky piped up, “I got something that might help ya out.” He got up and hobbled into his room, and then emerged after some rummaging carrying a small drone, holding it out to Whitaker. “Battery on his should be good. It’s got a little view screen there on the controls. Figure you can fly it around whatever small town and do some scouting. Make things a bit safer for y’all.”

She smiled and took it, nodding gratefully. “Thank you,” she said sincerely, “I’ll take good care of it.”

Landry reached out for the controller, but Whitaker smacked his hand away.

“I said I was going to take good care of it,” she said as she took the controller. “You keep your grubby little hands off of it.”

Landry playfully pouted and crossed his arms.

“If there aren’t too many zombies roaming about, do a quick inventory of the town before heading back,” Hammond cut in. “If we have a honey hole, we might as well mine it for everything we can.”

Whitaker nodded. “You got it, Sarge.”

Everyone finished their sandwiches, and Hammond got to his feet.

“Anybody want seconds?” he asked.

The group all vigorously shook their heads in the negative, and he rolled his eyes, chuckling.

“All right, all right,” he drawled, waving a hand. “I won’t torture you anymore. If you want to get your gear, I’ll get you a care package set up for the ride.”

They all got up, stretching and separating to pack up their respective gear. There was no time to sit around and relax, with a long day ahead of them.

CHAPTER TWO

Whitaker sat behind the wheel of the SUV, Landry in the passenger seat, and Rufus and Sparks hanging out in the back. The weather was on the cooler side, but the sun rising in the east warmed the redhead’s face as she rolled down the window. She hung her arm out, dancing her fingers against the wind as the vehicle sped down the empty interstate.

It had been weeks since Sparks had been out of their safe spot, being on constant guard all the time. Before all this began, she’d made the lonely drive from civilization to El Paso, driving through hours of nothingness. After the tedium of that trip, she’d sworn she’d never do it again, such a strain on her sanity.

This time, however, it brought a sense of peace, something she hadn’t had in quite a while.

Rufus watched her, cherry flyaways whirling around her pensive face, and his brow furrowed. “You okay, girl?” he asked gently.

She didn’t reply, simply continuing to stare, her hand floating up and down against the wind. He pursed his lips and reached over, giving her knee a light squeeze, and she startled so hard she smashed her elbow against the window frame, hissing through her teeth.

“Whoa, sorry there,” Rufus drawled, holding up his hand. “You were just concerning me there.”

She gave him a smile as she playfully rubbed her elbow and gave him a little bump with her shoulder. “It’s okay,” she replied. “And yeah, I’m fine. Just trying to take advantage of the calm before the storm.”

“Girl, we’re gonna be in for a long day if I’m gonna have to be the positive one,” Rufus joked, smirking at her. “You don’t know there’s a storm out there. This is a tiny blip on the map we’re going to. Hell, I’d be surprised if it’s even on a map. Whatever we find there, we’ll be able to handle it.”

Sparks nodded and took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together before resuming her pensive staring out the window.

“Yo, Rufus,” Landry said, glancing over his shoulder.

The older man raised an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“We got a long ass drive ahead of us,” the soldier said, “you got any good ‘Nam stories to tell us?”

Rufus barked a laugh. “Shit man, there wasn’t nothing good about ‘Nam,” he replied, shaking his head. “Just a never ending stream of shitty weather, booby traps, and jumping every time a twig snapped in the woods.”

Landry paled, clenching his jaw with embarrassment, and turned to face forward, rubbing his forehead with his hand.

Whitaker glanced in the rearview mirror. “I think what numbnuts here meant to ask is if you have any good stories,” she clarified. “Because seeing as how you are a Texas boy with a penchant for explosives that isn’t in jail, one can assume you’ve had some close calls with our boys in blue.”

Rufus chuckled, shaking his head. “Thanks for translating,” he said, and reached forward to pat Landry on the shoulder. “Yeah, I’ve got some bangers. Hm, what’s going to be a good one…” He sat back and thought for a moment before raising his hand with a smile. “Okay. It was nineteen-eighty-two, I do believe, and local dipshit Marty Harris was throwing a graduation party a few blocks over.”

“Oh, this’ll be good,” Whitaker said with a laugh.

“Now, this was in a tiny-ass town, so the graduating class barely cracked double digits,” Rufus continued. “But ole Marty was so excited about finally getting over the hump at age twenty-one, that he invited everybody from the surrounding towns to come celebrate with him. Now, I’m a reasonable man, and I understand the need to celebrate one’s accomplishments, even one as pathetic as graduating high school at age twenty-one. I knew this party was coming, so I did the only thing I could do, which was walk down to the liquor store for a bottle of whiskey to keep me company for the night.”

Landry cocked a brow, turning around to look at him. “Walk?”

“Yeah, my truck was in the shop, but it wasn’t a big deal because the store was only a half mile or so away,” Rufus explained, waving his hand. “What was a big deal was Marty getting there before me and buying out pretty much the entire store. I asked that little shit, as nicely as I possibly could, if I could have one of those bottles of whiskey.” He tapped his chin. “I forget exactly what he said in response to that, but it had something to do with questioning my lineage and advocating that I become an amateur proctologist.”

Both soldiers let out a low ooooohhhh sound, sharing dread at how badly this Marty had fucked up.

“Yeah,” Rufus replied, nodding gravely. “Well, he wanted me to be sober for his party, so I complied. Around five, I had some dinner, but instead of having my first drink of the night, I was sketching out my plan for the evening.”

Landry put a hand to his face. “Oh god, you didn’t blow anything up, did you?” he asked.

“Why don’t you let me finish, and you’ll find out,” Rufus said with a wink.

Whitaker reached over and playfully smacked the back of Landry’s head, and the soldier grumbled to himself, settling in and quieting down.

“Now, I was all kinds of pissed off,” Rufus continued, “especially as the cars started parking on my front lawn to walk over to the party. But I knew I couldn’t risk an explosion. Most of these people didn’t wrong me, just that asshole Marty. So I went with a backup plan.” He grinned. “A stink bomb.”

Landry snickered. “Hard to argue with the classics,” he said, shaking his head, “but I fail to see how this qualifies as a good story. Just seems a bit mundane, sorry.”

“You’ve set off one of my redneck rattlers,” Rufus said, pointing a finger at him. “So you should know by now that I don’t do anything mundane.”

The soldier cocked his head and nodded. “This is true,” he admitted.

“So, I used to carry stink bombs in my store, but they weren’t big sellers,” the older man continued. “Thanks to that, I had a few hundred just sitting in storage. So I grabbed those and a stack of post-it notes, and started writing Enjoy your parting gift from Marty Harris on each one. By the time I had those all written, night had fallen, so it was time to strike. I went around to every single car parked on the street, and snapped the top right off of a stink bomb, putting it right on the front windshield by the air conditioner intake. It was a muggy night, so I knew by the end of the party, people would be firing those up on their drive home. Took me an hour or so, but I put a stink bomb and a parting gift note on every single car in a six-block radius.”

The soldiers cracked up, shaking their heads.

“I am impressed with your insanely high level of pettiness,” Whitaker said, eyes glinting as she regarded him in the rearview mirror.

“Oh wait, we ain’t done yet,” Rufus replied, grinning from ear to ear. “I still had about fifty of those things left, so I decided to go big. Made my way over to that little shits house, and there was a hell of a party going on. The house was packed and was spilling out into the front yard. Couple hundred people at least. Even so, I managed to sneak around to the side of the house where the air conditioner was, and that thing was running full-tilt boogie. I popped the tops on the rest of those stink bombs and dumped the whole container on the vent. I barely got back across the street when I heard screaming, and people rushing out of the house to vomit.”

The soldiers burst into laughter, Whitaker slapping the steering wheel in her mirth.

“So how did you get away with it?” Landry asked, wiping tears from his eyes.

Rufus smirked. “I know this is going to come as a bit of a shock,” he drawled, “but I kind of had a reputation around town for being a bit salty.”

“You?” Whitaker gasped. “Nah, can’t see it.”

The older man chuckled. “Hard to believe, I know,” he replied. “So once the shit hit the fan, the Sheriff came by my place, banging on the door with a couple of his deputies, demanding to know why I sickened hundreds of people. Of course I feigned innocence, which they weren’t really buying. I asked them why they thought it was me, and they said they knew my store sold those stink bombs. I immediately flew into a panic, grabbing a flashlight and rushing out the back to the storage shed. Now, I may be a bit crazy in the head, especially in those days, but I wasn’t no dummy. I led the Sheriff out there to find that the lock on my shed had been broken open.”

More laughter erupted from the soldiers.

Landry shook his head. “Genius,” he said through his giggles. “That must have been one hell of a scene.”

“You’re damn right it was,” Rufus confirmed. “I was ranting and raving, demanding the Sheriff find whoever was responsible and arrest them. Took them a good five minutes to calm me down. They then showed me one of the notes from the car, asking if I knew ole Marty. I said yeah and told them about how he was being aggressive towards me at the liquor store earlier. I could see it in the Sheriff’s eyes that he wasn’t convinced of my innocence, but he knew he wouldn’t have a case, so they left.”

Whitaker shook her head. “So what happened to Marty?” she asked.

“He skipped town a couple weeks later, because everybody kept targeting his house and car with pranks,” Rufus explained, shaking his head and chuckling. “Apparently a rumor started spreading around that he’d done the stink bombs because he wanted to be remembered as a legend in town for pulling off the biggest practical joke ever.”

Landry raised an eyebrow. “Now how did a vicious rumor like that get started?” he asked, with the tone of a condescending teacher.

“I don’t know,” the older man replied innocently, “but I can tell you that my teenage employee who spent years being bullied by Marty might have told a person or two that version of events.”

Whitaker finally caught her breath and shook her head. “Remind me to stay on your good side, Rufus,” she declared.

“You just keep kicking ass and you’ll be good in my book,” he assured her. “And Landry, if you want to start kicking ass one of these days, you’ll earn some respect in my book too.”

The three of them chuckled, even Landry, and then they passed a sign reading Sheffield, 2 miles.

“Time to get our game faces on,” Rufus said with a sigh, and gave Sparks’ hand a squeeze to get her attention.

She looked at him and nodded, begrudgingly pulling her arm in the window and rolling it up.

“Don’t worry girl,” Rufus said gently, “you still have our ride back in a bit.”

She nodded and gave him a soft smile, hoping that he was right, that it was going to be a quick walk in the park before heading back home. After all, there was a first time for everything.

CHAPTER THREE

Whitaker pulled the SUV off of the highway, stopping at the bottom of the exit ramp. Across the street there was a rusted sign pointing to the south boasting SHEFFIELD. They looked around, but there was absolutely nothing even close to civilization nearby.

“Are we sure there’s actually a town here?” Landry asked.

Whitaker shrugged. “I mean, they spent money to put a sign up,” she said.

“Right, because politicians never waste taxpayer money,” he quipped.

“Let’s hang a right and see what we got,” Sparks suggested. “Just keep it slow.”

“On it,” Whitaker replied, and made the turn.

They moved up the two-lane road, winding for a bit, cutting through the desert before opening up to the town, if one could call it that.

The main road looked straight through to the other side of town, no more than four or five blocks until it disappeared off into nothingness. They stopped the vehicle a quarter mile away from the gas station, which was up on the road on the right.

“Well, on the plus side, it shouldn’t take us too long to clear the town,” Rufus said.

Landry scratched the back of his head. “Do y’all want to do a drive through and see what we’re dealing with?” he asked.

“We should fill up on gas first,” Sparks said, shaking her head. “If we do run into trouble, the last thing we want is to run out of gas while trying to escape.”

Whitaker nodded. “Gas station it is,” she said, and drove up, weaving around a few corpses in the parking lot before pulling up alongside one of the pumps.

Once the SUV stopped moving, they all looked around to make sure nothing was moving out there, and it didn’t seem to be. The quartet cautiously got out of the vehicle, clutching their guns tightly.

“Landry, see if you can find a generator to kick on so we can fill up,” Whitaker said quietly. The air was so quiet and still, it almost felt eerie, like they should be whispering.

Landry nodded and walked around the side of the building. Meanwhile, Sparks and Rufus walked over to the corpses in the parking lot.

“Pretty sure they’re dead,” Rufus said as she knelt down beside a man in gas station coveralls.

“That’s not what concerns me,” she muttered as she rolled the body over.

There was a bit of a stench, and a few bullet holes in his chest. They looked him over, not finding any zombie bites.

“Look how fresh he is,” she continued. “Skin has just barely started to decay. No bites, no headshot.”

Rufus crossed his arms. “You thinking this was recent?”

“A day, maybe two, depending on the weather,” she replied with a nod. “I don’t remember how warm it was yesterday.”

“Yeah, everything just starts running together when you’re locked up inside,” Rufus agreed.

Sparks patted the body down, eventually finding a wallet tucked away in his back pocket. She pulled it out and looked at the license. “Address is here in Sheffield,” she said.

“Maybe some pissed off locals?” Rufus suggested.

She took a deep, thoughtful breath. “Or, he got some unwanted visitors who didn’t want to share the gas.”

The power kicked on, the pumps springing to life, and Whitaker immediately pulled the handle, having already inserted the pump into the tank.

Sparks and Rufus approached the other body, flipping that one over too, finding a young man. He was dressed in bloody jeans and a t-shirt, with the same injury pattern of bullets across his chest. The couple shared a concerned look.

“You were saying about that storm?” Rufus asked dryly.

Sparks sighed heavily. “I just love being right,” she muttered.

They stood up and headed back over to the SUV, joining Whitaker.

“They say anything to you?” she asked, resting her foot on the back tire as she continued to fill the tank.

“Yeah, they said that we’re in for a long day,” Rufus declared.

She furrowed her brow.

“They aren’t zombies, but they’re relatively fresh kills,” Sparks explained. “A day, maybe two.”

Whitaker’s gaze darkened. “So we might have hostiles?” she asked.

“I think we should proceed as though we do,” the redhead confirmed.

The soldier nodded and topped off the tank before screwing the cap on and replacing the pump in its holder. Landry emerged from the gas station with an armload of snacks, a candy bar sticking out of his mouth as he juggled his haul. He stopped short when he looked up and realized all three of his companions were staring at him.

“What?” he mumbled through a mouthful of chocolate.

Whitaker jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Put the shit in the car, we got trouble,” she said.

Landry rolled his eyes and tossed his load into the front seat, grabbing his gun. “Just once I want an easy day,” he moaned, and then sighed. “What do we got?”

“Our friends over there were murdered, recently,” Sparks explained. “Hostiles are probably still in town.”

Landry didn’t react, simply slinging his rifle over his shoulder and heading to the back of the SUV. He opened up the trunk and rummaged for a moment before pulling out the drone that Ricky had given them.

“Well, let’s see what we can see, then,” he said.

The other three took up positions around the SUV, keeping watch on the area as he got the drone set up. After a few moments, he powered it on and launched, the little device quickly gaining altitude.

Soon, they had a bird's-eye view of the town. Landry struggled with the controls a bit, trying to get a handle on it. Finally he managed to start getting it moving parallel to the main road, looking down each cross street, narrating as he went.

“First road looks to be houses,” he said. “Have a little movement towards the far end, could be a zombie. Next road is more houses, again some movement near the far end.” He paused. “Holy shit, we got something here.”

The trio clustered around him to see what was on the monitor. At the far end of a row of businesses, they spotted a crowd of zombies around a standalone building. There were thirty, maybe forty of them completely surrounding it.

“Looks like whatever killed out friends over there got themselves in a bit of trouble,” Rufus murmured.

Landry shook his head. “I say we leave ‘em to rot,” he said. “No sense wasting bullets on murderers.”

“And how do you know they weren’t just defending themselves?” Whitaker asked. “For all we know, those mechanics over there could have been the aggressors.”

Rufus took a deep breath. “At least one of them lived here in town,” he explained. “I get your point, but it looks like they were just defending themselves.”

“And besides, do we really want to risk it?” Landry added. “We’re already burning through supplies at an alarming rate.”

Whitaker chewed her lip. “Still… if they were just defending themselves…”

“WE came here to get stuff, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Sparks piped up forcefully. “When we leave, we can use the vehicles to lure the zombies away from the building. If someone is in there, they’ll have a chance to get out. We’re not burdened with more mouths to feed, we limit our danger, and they can go about their merry way. Does that work for everybody?”

The trio glanced at each other, and then back at her, nodding.

“Landry, Whitaker, I want you two to start going through every garbage and storage shed that you can find,” she said, pointing to them. “We need gas cans.”

Landry nodded. “No problem,” he said.

“Only go three-fourths of the way down the road,” Sparks continued. “Don’t want to risk getting too close to the zombies.”

He nodded again. “What are you two gonna do?” he asked.

Rufus grinned. “Gonna round us up some vehicles,” he drawled.

“Let’s meet back here in thirty,” Sparks added.

The soldiers hopped into the SUV, and Whitaker leaned her head out the driver’s side window. “You want a lift to the first house?” she asked.

“Nah, we’re just going to walk it,” the redhead replied, shaking her head. “Keep our options open in case there are others in town.”

Whitaker nodded. “That’s a good point,” she agreed. “In that case, we’ll start at the far end of the first road and work our way back to you.”

“We’ll see you in a few, then,” Rufus agreed, giving her a little salute.

The two soldiers drove off towards their starting point while Sparks and Rufus began a leisurely stroll towards the first house, which was a couple hundred yards away. They walked in silence, with Rufus knowing that Sparks just wanted a few more moments of peace before having to deal with the zombies on the other side of town.

CHAPTER FOUR

Landry and Whitaker flung open a garage door, quickly raising their weapons in case of a surprise guest. When it was clear they were alone, they lowered their guns and stepped inside.

“Really makes you wonder where all these people went,” he said as he surveyed the empty garage.

There was a loud thud from the door leading to the house, and Whitaker raised an eyebrow.

“Looks like they just wanted to die at home,” she said dryly.

She inspected the door, as the banging was incredibly loud, but the door was secure and opened inward, so there was no danger of the creature getting through.

“Living in a town this removed from civilization, it seems to me they died inside a long time ago,” Landry said as he rummaged through some bins on the shelves lining the far wall.

Whitaker shook her head as she moved some trash cans in the corner. “Nothing wrong with a desire to get away from people,” she replied. “Just ask any retail worker.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard the horror stories,” he replied with a shudder. “Here we go,” he said as he finally found a five gallon metal gas container. He picked it up and shook it, happy at the sound of sloshing going on inside. “Looks like we’ve got a little extra here, too,” he declared as he turned around to face her.

“Did you smell it?” Whitaker asked.

He unscrewed the cap and took a whiff, wrinkling his nose and shaking his head. “Well, we got kerosene,” he said. “Still, we can dump it and use the container.”

“Just toss it in the back as is for now,” she suggested. “Kerosene might come in handy if we can find one of those heaters.”

Landry nodded and left the garage to follow her instructions as she continued to poke around. He opened the back of the SUV, carefully placing the container in nestled with the five others they’d already found. As he shut the door, he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of a body standing next to the vehicle.

He instinctively raised his gun, but the woman threw her hands up, eyes widening.

“Please don’t shoot, please!” she cried.

Landry lowered his rifle, letting out a deep breath. “Jesus christ girl, you about gave me a heart attack!” he huffed, his shoulders relaxing.

“You okay?” Whitaker asked, rushing out of the garage. As soon as she laid eyes on the young woman, she drew her handgun, aiming it towards her.

The woman shrieked and raised her hands higher, taking a step back.

“Relax, it’s just a girl,” Landry said gently, motioning to the thin wisp of a young woman. She looked like she hadn’t eaten properly in months.

Whitaker pursed her lips. “I can see that,” she said tersely, “but in case you didn’t know, us girls can be a threat too.”

He scratched the back of his head, nodding and keeping his hand on his rifle, but letting her take the lead.

“What’s your name?” Whitaker asked.

“J-judy,” the woman stammered. “My name is Judy.”

The soldier nodded. “Where did you come from?” she demanded.

“My daughter and I are holed up in the house across the street,” Judy explained, pointing a finger without lowering her hands. “Been there a couple of days now.”

Whitaker cocked her head. “Couple of days, huh?” she asked. “So you’re not from here?”

“No, we got here two days ago,” Judy replied, shaking her head.

“So I’m guessing you have a pretty good idea of what happened up at the gas station?” the soldier asked, eyes like steel.

Tears rolled down the woman’s face as she nodded and swallowed hard. “We… we stopped for gas because we were running on empty,” she said, voice thick. “They decided that the only thing they wanted in payment for the gas was me. I begged them to stop, but they wouldn’t. At that point, my husband and his friends pulled up. After that it was a blur.” She lowered her hands to her cheeks, shaking her head emphatically. “There was some yelling, then gunshots… then blood. My daughter was hysterical, and I kind of was too. My husband came and dropped us off at this house and told us to stay put until they got back. But they never came.” She choked on a sob.

Whitaker and Landry glanced at each other, both skeptical, but the former lowered her gun.

“I think I know where your husband and his friends are,” she said.

Judy’s eyes grew wide. “Oh my god,” she breathed, “are they okay?”

“We think so,” Landry replied. “They’re trapped, but if the zombies outside are still trying to get in, then there’s a good chance they’re alive in there.”

“Please, please, you have to get them out,” Judy pleaded, pressing her hands together in a prayer. “I don’t know how much longer we can stay here, but I can’t live without them.”

The soldiers shared a confused glance.

“Why can’t you stay here?” Landry asked, raising an eyebrow.

Judy swallowed hard. “Because they’re coming,” she whispered.

“Who’s coming?” Whitaker asked, shoulders tensing up.

“The dead,” Judy hissed.

Landry rolled his eyes. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, ma’am, but the dead are everywhere,” he drawled, rolling a hand above his head. “They’re not going to chase you out.”

“You don’t understand,” she said hoarsely, “there are tens of thousands… hundreds of thousands of those things walking down the interstate. It’s only a matter of time before they swallow this town whole.”

The soldiers exchanged another glance. There was a chance she could be lying, but if she wasn’t, was it worth the risk not taking precautions?

“Okay,” Whitaker said, taking a deep breath, “this is what I want you to do. I want you to go back to your daughter. You lock those doors up tight and wait for us.”

Judy’s eyes widened again, and she waved her hands in front of her face. “No, no, please!” she begged. “Please don’t leave us here!”

“It’s okay,” Whitaker replied gently. “We’re not going to abandon you. But we need to get our friends so we can help you, okay? And if we’re on a timetable, you’re only going to slow us down.”

She sniffled and wiped her nose, finally calming down enough to nod in agreement. “Okay, I’ll be in the house,” she agreed. “Please, please be careful. And hurry.” She turned tail and ran back across the street, leaving the two soldiers to wait for the sound of a slamming door.

“Do you buy it?” Landry murmured.

Whitaker tongued her cheek. “The gas station guys wanting to rape her?” she asked. “Not for a second.”

“What about the marching horde?” he asked.

“I think we should check it out,” she suggested. “Just to be safe.”

Landry nodded and headed around the SUV. They got in and sped off down the road, parking out front of the house that the others were inside.

“You already stocked up on gas cans?” Rufus asked as he emerged from the front door.

Whitaker shook her head, leaning out the window. “No, but we might have some trouble,” she explained.

“What’s up?” Sparks asked as she came out, and the duo approached the car.

“We found a survivor,” Whitaker explained, “a young woman with an alleged daughter. Calais her husband and his friends are the ones trapped in the store.”

Rufus raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t sound like much trouble to me.”

“She also said an army of the dead, hundreds of thousands strong, is marching down the interstate,” Whitaker continued. “We’re going to drive up a few miles to see what we can see. “Better safe than sorry, you know?”

Sparks nodded sharply. “Be quick,” she said. “If she is telling the truth, we may have to make a break for it.”

Whitaker nodded and punched the gas, speeding down the road.

Sparks swallowed hard before shaking her head. “Rufus, I think this storm just went from a thunderhead to a hurricane.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Whitaker floored the SUV, gaining speed rapidly as they reached the interstate. The windows were down, and they focused intently on the road ahead, concerned that the young woman was telling the truth.

The road in front of them stretched for a mile or so before curving around a rock formation.

“She had to be exaggerating, right?” Landry finally broke the tense silence. “Like there’s no way there are hundreds of thousands of those things together. Right?”

Whitaker shook her head. “I hate to admit it, but it’s possible,” she said.

“How in the hell would that be possible?” Landry demanded.

“The interstate we’re on is a straight shot to San Antonio and Houston, where millions lived,” she replied. “You get a big enough group headed west, and they probably pick up more as they go.”

Landry contemplated for a moment, as the vision of such a thing settled into his mind. “Fuck me, man,” he breathed.

The SUV moved at a good clip, about fifty miles per hour. She navigated the curve quickly and then slammed into the front edge of a zombie horde.

Within seconds, she plowed through a dozen ghouls, resulting in the SUV being partially surrounded.

There was a brief lull as both the soldiers and the zombies processed what had just happened. Landry jerked his arm into the vehicle as ghouls began to reach for him and frantically rolled up the window.

“Back it up, back it up, back it up!” he screamed.

Whitaker threw the SUV into reverse and floored it. The tires spun, coated in the blood of the zombies they’d run over. While she struggled to gain traction, Landry pulled his handgun out to try to fight off the arms that were wedged into the window he was trying to close.

He smacked away hands and finally began firing through the opening, hitting ghouls in the head to buy them precious seconds. “Get this thing moving!” he cried.

Finally the tires gained traction and lurched backwards. Whitaker kept the pedal to the floor, putting some distance between them and the massive horde. She slammed on the brakes about thirty yards away, pausing briefly. They looked out at the sea of corpses, stretching completely across both sides of the interstate and back as far as they could see, which wasn’t too far given the rock formation.

“We need to go,” Landry urged.

Whitaker stayed transfixed on the creatures, watching as they slowly made their way towards them, a constantly moving mass of rotted flesh, moving as one.

Landry grabbed her arm and shook her violently. “Whitaker!” he yelled. “Drive the fucking car!”

She finally snapped out of it, executing a quick three-point turn and speeding off towards the town exit less than a mile away.

“Jesus fucking christ, what the fuck are we going to do?” Landry babbled, scrubbing his hands down his face.

“First thing we’re doing is getting Sparks and Rufus, loading up, and getting the fuck out,” Whitaker said firmly.

He threw his hands up. “Well obviously!” he said, sarcasm evident in his tone. “I meant more long term, like how in the fuck are we going to stop that many of those things?”

“I don’t know,” she growled, shaking her head. “All I know is we gotta focus on the task at hand, which is getting our people and getting out. We’ll figure the rest out later.”

Landry leaned forward, eyes widening. “Oh, fuck!” he cried.

Whitaker looked around frantically, heart pounding, trying to figure out what had caused his sudden outburst. “What?!” she demanded.

“Judy’s husband,” Landry said, turning to her. “Are we just going to leave them there to die?”

Whitaker slammed on the brakes just before the exit, focusing intently on the rearview mirror.

“What are you doing?” he snapped.

“Trying to see how much time we have,” she explained, raising her wrist and exposing her watch.

“Not much, and certainly not enough to be wasting!” he said, voice shrill.

“Only need a minute, and it’ll go faster if you’re not yapping,” she said firmly. “Those things were back about thirty yards from the turn.” She glanced at her watch, then back at the mirror. A few seconds later the front edge of the horde appeared around the rock formation. “Fuck my life.”

Landry clenched his jaw, staring at her with wide eyes. “What is it?” he asked.

“Those things are moving fast,” she replied, and popped the car into gear.

“How much time do we have?” he asked.

Whitaker took a deep breath as she punched the gas. “Maybe half an hour before they get to the exit.”

CHAPTER SIX

Whitaker sped down the small road, skidding as she made the turn onto the first side street. The noise was so loud that both Sparks and Rufus came running out of a house with their guns in hand, thinking they were under attack.

Whitaker slammed on the brakes in front of them, both soldiers leaping from the SUV.

Rufus surveyed the blood and damage to the front of the vehicle. “So, how big of a shitstorm are we in for?” he drawled.

“Category five, and then some,” Landry replied.

Rufus shook his head and sighed. “Shit.”

“So she wasn’t exaggerating?” Sparks asked, rubbing her forehead.

“We couldn’t get a full look because of the rock formations,” Landry admitted, “but no, it doesn’t look like she was exaggerating.”

The redhead put her hands on her hips. “So how much time do we have?” she asked.

“Maybe half an hour before they reach the exit,” Whitaker replied.

Rufus jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I got one truck up and running, and we found a couple of gas cans,” he said. “I say we load up what we got and hit the road.”

“What about our friends trapped in the store?” Whitaker asked, cocking her head. “Just doesn’t feel right to leave them there with what’s coming.”

Everyone looked around at each other, blank stares betraying that nobody really knew what the right answer was.

Finally, Sparks put up her hands. “We do it quick,” she said. “Rufus, get the truck.” She pointed to the soldiers. “Landry, I want you in the back for crowd control, if you see any turning back you pop them in the head. Whitaker and I will flank them and get into the store once it’s clear. We tell them what’s up, and then we haul ass.” She looked around. “Any objections?” When the other three shook their heads in the negative, she waved a hand. “Then let’s move, because we don’t have a lot of time.”

Rufus and Landry hopped into the truck, firing it up and heading off towards the storefront. Whitaker and Sparks jogged towards their destination, wanting to remain as quiet as possible so they weren’t detected.

The run took them a few minutes, and the two women kept their heads on a swivel, constantly looking around for zombies. As they approached the end of the road to turn south, there was a trio of ghouls that shambled towards them.

“We don’t have time,” Sparks huffed, “just ignore them.”

Whitaker nodded, and they turned south, darting through front yards. They hopped a fence before taking cover behind a house about a block away from the store. Even though they were a good fifty yards from the rear entrance, they could see several ghouls back there, banging on the back door.

“How are we doing on time?” Sparks whispered.

Whitaker checked her watch. “Twenty-three minutes until we’re in trouble,” she reported.

“Let’s hope they hurry, then,” the redhead murmured.

Rufus popped the truck into reverse and sped down the road towards the zombies, parking about twenty yards from them. “You ready?” he called through the back window.

Landry gave him a thumbs up. “Let’s do it!”

Rufus laid on the horn, holding it down, and the sharp bleat quickly gained the attention of most of the zombies.

The corpses turned away from the store and shambled towards the truck. Landry took a knee, aiming his rifle. When they were within ten yards, he held up a hand.

“All right bud,” he called, “start moving!”

Rufus inched the truck forward, keeping pace with the zombies, who stayed within a ten-yard buffer. Landry looked over them towards the store and spotted a dozen or so ghouls still banging on the front windows, not paying the truck any attention.

He took aim, making sure to be careful about risking shooting the glass, and fired.

The first bullet ripped through the head of a creature near the back, and it crumpled to the ground. The sound of the head exploding in a fantastic spray of blood and bone, coupled with the body hitting the asphalt drew the attention of six other zombies, pulling them away from the door.

“Stubborn bastards,” Landry muttered. “Come on, come to daddy.” He aimed again, this time at the ground by their feet, since they were too close to the glass doors to risk a headshot.

He fired, and the bullet smacked into the ground by their legs, sending shrapnel up into their calves. Of course, the ghouls didn’t notice, and continued banging on the door.

“Sorry ladies, best I can do for you,” he muttered.

“You get ‘em?” Rufus called back from the cab.

Landry shook his head. “All but six,” he replied. “They just don’t want to break away from the door.”

“That’s good enough,” Rufus declared. “Six of them don’t stand a chance against our girls.”

Landry sat down in the truck bed, still keeping an eye on the zombies near the back of the pack in case they broke off to head towards their teammates.

Whitaker and Sparks remained behind cover, looking through the gaps in the buildings to see the ghouls moving away. The ones in the front of the store headed off, but four remained in the back, unmoved by the noise.

“Think they got all of them?” Sparks whispered.

Whitaker snickered. “It’s Landry,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “If he managed to attract half of them, I’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

The redhead cracked a smile and pulled out a knife, prompting her partner to arm herself with a blade as well.

“Let’s take out the ones at the back and see if we can get inside,” Sparks murmured, and Whitaker nodded in agreement.

The duo darted out from behind cover, running across the grass and racing up to the four zombies still focused on the door.

Sparks reached the group first, jamming her blade into the back of a head on the far left of the line. As the body dropped, Whitaker reached the right side and took out a ghoul in the same fashion.

Both women reacted quickly, the next two zombies turning around to meet blades in their faces. With all four corpses on the ground, the duo looked around to make sure the commotion didn’t attract any other enemies.

Once they were sure they were in the clear, Sparks knocked on the door with a shave and a haircut, two bits, to let the survivors inside know that she was a human.

They waited several moments, but there was no response.

“I say we give it another shot and then go around front,” Whitaker said quietly.

Sparks nodded and then gave another knock.

This time, a muffled voice asked, “Hello? Is someone there?”

“Yes, we’re here to help,” Sparks replied.

“Okay… just…” the person replied, “give me a moment.”

There was some clanking behind the door, like it was being unlatched. A moment later, it opened a crack, revealing a sliver of a middle-aged man dressed in bloody jeans and a splattered dress shirt.

He looked disheveled, with a wild look in his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in days.

“Like I said,” Sparks said gently, “we’re here to help.”

The man nodded, but still didn’t open the door all the way.

“You want to let us in?” Whitaker asked, impatience clear in her tone. “Because we’re on a tight timetable.”

He furrowed his brow in confusion, but then pushed the door open wide. “I’m sorry, I just…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “It’s been a long few days.”

“Preaching to the choir, brother,” Whitaker said, patting his shoulder on the way by, “preaching to the choir.”

He let them inside before shutting the door and securing it tight. It appeared they were in a storage room for what looked like a general goods store.

“How many of you are in here?” Sparks asked.

The man crossed his arms, as if hugging himself for warmth. “Six of us,” he said. “We got trapped in here trying to secure goods before moving on.”

Sparks led them through the storage room, with Whitaker on her heels, and their new acquaintance about five yards behind.

“Not a bad idea, given what’s just up the road,” Whitaker said.

The man stopped short in his tracks. “Oh god,” he moaned, “they’re still coming.”

The soldier nodded, turning back towards him. “Afraid so man,” she said, “afraid so.”

Sparks pulled back a curtain that led to the main area of the store. It was a fairly large single room with numerous racks spread out. In the center of the store was a makeshift camping area where they’d appeared to have spent the night.

As the redhead crossed the threshold, the man cupped his hand around his mouth and yelled, “Good news guys, we’re saved!”

As his voice echoed, two men stood up from the center of the room. One of them was dressed in hunter’s gear, and the other was wearing hunting gear, and the other donned a police officer’s uniform.

Sparks’ memory flashed, and she immediately recognized the cop as Officer Carter from Junction, the man who had set them up to die on Sonora. Unfortunately, he seemed to recognize her at the same time, and drew his gun.

“Son of a bitch!” he bellowed. “It’s her!”

“Oh shit,” Sparks hissed, and whipped around to shove Whitaker to the floor before diving in the opposite direction.

Carter and four other men began firing, bullets ripping through the back wall. The man who had let them in took a shot in the shoulder, and fell back to the ground, cursing in pain.

“Fan out and get ‘em!” Carter barked.

Sparks looked through the display cases, watching feet moving in multiple directions rapidly. She rose into a crouch, tracking the rightmost set of shoes running towards her. She timed it so that when he reached a break between the displays, she fired.

The bullet was on the mark, hitting him in the side and sending him grunting to the ground.

She dove for cover as three nearby men opened fire in her direction and crawled on the ground towards the back counter register for more cover.

Whitaker, meanwhile, was on the ground watching one of the hunters move in her direction. She quickly leapt up, smacking his rifle away and causing him to fire an errant shot into the wall.

The soldier delivered a few strikes to the man’s face, making him drop his gun, and then spun him around, using him as a human shield, raising her handgun to his temple.

“Everybody calm the fuck down!” she bellowed.

Carter and the other two men turned to the fuming woman, lowering their weapons but still holding on to them.

“Okay,” the officer said slowly. “Let’s everybody take a beat, here.”

“Fuck that,” Whitaker spat. “Put your guns down or your boy here loses his head.” She dug the barrel of her gun so hard into the man’s temple that he let out a whimper of pain.

“Carter, she ain’t bluffing!” he moaned shakily.

“Well, at least one of you isn’t as stupid as you look,” Whitaker snapped and looked at Carter. “Drop it, now!”

He tossed his gun on the floor, motioning for his buddies to do the same.

“Kick them away and keep your hands high,” she instructed, and the men did as ordered. “Good. Now somebody want to fill me in?”

Before anybody could say anything, the loud screeching of tires echoed outside. Carter and his men dove out of the way as a truck smashed through the front of the store, shattering everything and sending zombies flying through the air.

When it came to a stop, Landry popped up and aimed his assault rifle towards the men, who raised their hands.

Rufus leapt out of the driver’s seat, gun raised, and eyes wild. “Sparks, where are you girl?” he cried.

“I’m over here,” she said, standing up from behind the counter, “I’m good.”

Rufus relaxed and nodded gratefully towards her before turning his attention towards the men. When he recognized Carter, his gaze darkened, and he marched forward, aiming right for the officer’s forehead.

“You motherfucker,” he snarled, “I thought we told you to stay in your own fucking back yard!”

“We didn’t have a choice, man!” Carter pleaded, hands high in the air. “Those things… those things just marched right through us! Junction too!”

Rufus jutted out his chin. “I oughta kill you where you stand,” he said, voice low and menacing.

“Would someone please fill me the fuck in?” Whitaker barked.

Landry peeked out the window, spotting the zombies they’d led away working their way back towards the commotion. “Better make it the nickel version,” he warned, “because we have incoming.”

“We ran into these assholes in Junction when we were fleeing to the west,” Rufus explained. “They said they’d take us and a whole busload of other survivors to a safe place.”

Whitaker raised an eyebrow. “Guessing it wasn’t safe?”

“Oh, it was plenty safe for them,” Rufus said, sneering at the quivering officer. “Especially after they opened fire and cut down every man, woman, and child on that bus. They tried to get us too, but that didn’t work out too good for you, did it, Skippy?”

Carter swallowed hard. “Please, do whatever you want with me,” he begged, “just let my men go.”

“Oh, how kind of you to give me permission to do whatever I want with you,” Rufus drawled. “Here I was thinking this gun against your forehead already gave me that.”

“We got two minutes, max!” Landry cried. “So if you’re going to shoot him, then shoot him, because we gotta move!”

Rufus clenched his jaw, thinking really hard about whether or not to pull the trigger. He looked over at Sparks, who was smiling softly at him, and his heart burst.

“What do you think, girl?” he asked.

She walked up next to him, regarding the three men with a cold stare. “Whose wife and child are in the house?” she asked.

The hunter on the right raised his chin. “They’re mine, ma’am,” he said.

She cocked her head, looking him over. He was young looking, though more disheveled and out of it than even the man that had let them in the back door. The redhead glanced over at the man Whitaker still held hostage, noting that he wasn’t that able-looking either.

After scanning them all, she came to the conclusion that Carter was the only viable fighter amongst the whole pack.

“These guys will be dead within a week without this asshole,” she said, shaking her head. “If you kill him, we might as well go ahead and finish them all off.”

Rufus nodded, agreeing innately with her. He tossed his handgun up in the air, catching the barrel and then thrust it forward, smacking Carter directly in the nose with it. The crack was sickening, reverberating in the space as blood sprayed all over the men.

Carter grunted and fell to the ground, holding his now-crimson face.

“Pretty sure he can still fight with a broken nose,” Rufus said, grinning at Sparks.

She chuckled and turned to head to the truck.

“So…” one of the hunters piped up, causing her to pause, “do we just follow you or…”

“If you want to die, sure,” Sparks said, her voice suddenly cold. “My threat from Sonora still stands. You follow us, you die. The only reason you’re walking out of here today is because of that horde that’s marching our way. If you have any sense at all, you’ll get back into your vehicles and head north without looking back.”

The hunter trembled. “But… but what’s up there?” he stammered.

“Not an army of the dead and not us,” Sparks replied firmly, “which is all you need to concern yourself with. Now go.”

The man took a step towards his weapon, but Rufus put up a hand.

“Exit’s in the rear,” he said.

The hunter’s eyes widened. “But we need our weapons!” he protested.

“We’ll leave ‘em at the gas station for you,” Rufus replied. “Now go on, git.”

The men collected their wounded and headed out the back of the store where their friend they’d shot was still groaning.

“You okay, girl?” Rufus asked as they headed for the truck.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Sparks replied hoarsely. “Gotta say though, that was one heck of a dramatic entrance, there.”

He scratched the back of his head. “We heard the gunshots and thought you were in trouble,” he explained. “Didn’t want to waste time with the whole getting out and opening a door.”

She smiled and gave his arm an affectionate squeeze.

They all piled into the truck, Landry still in the bed to keep an eye on the zombies marching their way, still about thirty yards from the store.

“All right,” Sparks declared, “let’s get our gas and get the hell out of here.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

The group parked in the middle of the interstate, a good mile away from the exit, truck and SUV side by side. They sat there, watching in stunned silence as the zombie horde marched towards the exit.

The ghouls were shoulder to shoulder, stretching across every available inch of asphalt, from one edge of the emergency parking lane to the other. The tail stretched back to the rock formation, vanishing around the curve.

“They just keep coming,” Landry breathed in awe.

Whitaker crossed her arms. “I wonder how long that undead conga line is,” she muttered.

He sat up with a sense of urgency, his eyes alight with what was almost excitement. “Let’s find out!” He jumped out of the SUV, running around to the back and throwing open the hatch.

Rufus and Sparks glanced out at him from the truck, brows furrowed.

“What are you up to?” Rufus asked, hanging his head out the window.

Landry rummaged around in the trunk for a moment before returning with the drone, holding it up proudly. “We’re going to see just how many of these things we’re dealing with,” he declared, and set the drone on the hood of the SUV, fiddling with the dials to get it running.

The others got out of their seats, joining him on the road to watch the screen as the drone took off. He navigated it towards the horde and rose as high as it would go into the air.

“I don’t know how much range this thing has,” he murmured as he worked the controls, “so I’m going to go more for altitude than getting close to them.”

Everyone crowded around and watched the screen as the image trailed higher and higher. The horde stretched through the rock formation and extended far back to the horizon, which was kind of hard to tell how far that was given the low quality of the camera.

“Jesus,” Rufus breathed, “you can’t even see the tail end of them.”

“We should get back,” Whitaker said sharply. “We’re going to have to pack up and evacuate.”

Landry shook his head. “And go where?”

“Back to Fabens,” Whitaker replied. “They need to know what’s coming their way.”

“Oh good,” he drawled, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure the Cartel is going to be thrilled we’re stopping by for a sleepover.”

Sparks took a deep breath. “Landry’s right, it’s going to be too dangerous for you two to go,” she agreed. “At least right now until we can figure out how to smuggle you in. You get spotted and that whole town is burning.”

The soldiers nodded. Landry began to pilot the drone back towards them, but the redhead put a hand on his arm.

“How much battery power do you have left?” she asked.

He squinted as he checked the screen. “Probably ten, maybe fifteen minutes of flight time,” he replied.

“Keep it in the air and focus the camera on the exit,” Sparks instructed.

He furrowed his brow. “Why?” he asked.

“Just humor me,” she replied.

He did as she asked, focusing the camera on the exit as the horde approached it. After several minutes, the front edge reached it, with some of the creatures peeling off from the interstate and onto the exit.

“Oh god, what are they doing?” Landry moaned.

Rufus shook his head. “They’re complicating our lives, that’s what they’re doing,” he muttered.

They watched in horror as hundreds, approaching a thousand zombies quickly exited the interstate and started flooding the streets.

“Go ahead and bring it down,” Sparks said, and the soldier brought the device down for a landing as the group stood in a shell shocked daze.

“So much for just hanging tight and hoping they go by us,” Rufus muttered.

Whitaker swallowed hard. “A few stragglers we could handle,” she said. “But that looks like hundreds, maybe even thousands.”

“Come on, we gotta get back to the others,” Sparks said.

Landry collected the drones and loaded up as they all got back into their respective vehicles. Whitaker and Rufus pushed down a little harder on those gas pedals, knowing that every second counted in this race against time.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The mini-caravan pulled up to their little slice of heaven, slamming on the brakes and piling out with a sense of urgency. Hammond and Jeff were outside, taking turns throwing rocks at some bottles they’d set up several yards away.

Both men startled at the sudden racket, turning to face their approaching friends.

“Looks like they’re excited to see us,” the Sergeant declared.

Jeff shrugged. “First time for everything.”

“How’d it go?” Hammond asked as they walked up to the group, seeing the urgency in their eyes.

“We’re fucked six ways from Sunday, Sarge,” Landry blurted.

Hammond shook his head. “Well, don’t sugarcoat it,” he said.

“Pretty sure he did, Sarge,” Whitaker added, and that caught the Sergeant’s attention, considering her normal calm and cool nature.

“We have to leave this place, and soon,” Sparks piped up.

Jeff’s brow furrowed. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“There are a few hundred thousand zombies headed our way,” she explained. “Straight down the interstate.”

The two men blinked, stunned for a moment before Hammond finally stammered, “We’re going to need diesel for the truck if we’re going to take it with us.”

Sparks shook her head. “It’ll be fine here, just make sure it’s locked up tight,” she said. “Just pull what we need for a week or so and we’ll come get it later.”

“Well where are we going?” Jeff demanded.

“Rufus and I are grabbing some supplies and heading to Fabens,” the redhead replied, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “They need to know what’s coming their way.”

“We’re coming with you,” Hammond said firmly.

She shook her head. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Don’t care,” he declared, squaring his shoulders. “We’re coming with you. If that horde is as big as you say, then the cartel is going to have their hands full protecting the city. That’s going to give us the perfect opportunity to get in and get Mathis.”

Sparks held up her hands, palms out. “Sergeant, I agree that this is a golden opportunity to get into El Paso and get your man, but all that goes out the window if the Cartel sees you coming into Fabens,” she explained. “Rufus and I can believably get in without them caring. I promise that getting Mathis out is a priority. But right now I need you to keep your head about you and stay out of sight.”

Hammond took a deep breath, and then finally nodded. “So, where do you want us?” he asked, letting out his breath with a whoosh. “Because it doesn’t sound like we’re going to be able to stay here much longer.”

“Get the gear and everyone packed up and head towards Marfa,” Sparks instructed. “Stay about five miles east of the town limits. Clara said there are some potential friendlies there, but she needs to do the introductions. When we get to Fabens, we’ll send her back in your direction.”

Jeff raised his hand. “And what about the rest of us?” he asked. “Ricky isn’t exactly in fighting condition, and I don’t think we’re going to convince Mary to pick up a gun anytime soon.”

“Stay with Hammond,” Sparks replied. “Those two are going to be a lot safer with the Marfa folks than they will be in Fabens. Once we get them secure, you can come back with Clara. Because I get the sense we’re going to need you if we’re going to survive this.”

Jeff nodded firmly. “You got it,” he said.

“How much time do we have before the horde reaches us?” Hammond asked.

Whitaker tilted her head back and forth. “Those things are going about two miles an hour,” she replied. “So probably a day and a half before they get here.”

“Okay good,” the Sergeant replied. “I’m going to get everybody fed and let some sedatives take effect on Ricky before moving him. I know he’s feeling better, but I don’t want to push him any harder than we need to.”

Sparks nodded. “I’m good with that,” she said.

“We gotta get a move on, girl,” Rufus urged. “Get the sense we’re going to need every minute.”

She nodded and turned towards the truck.

“Hold up a second,” Hammond said, and headed for the garage door just across from the main residence. He reached inside and grabbed a small canvas bag, tossing it over to Sparks. “Emergency go bag,” he explained as she caught it. “Two days of rations and some other goodies that might come in handy.”

She nodded and smiled. “Thanks,” she said, and hopped into the passenger seat.

Rufus fired up the vehicle and spun it around before punching the gas. They paused briefly at the interstate entrance that looked to the east.

“Might as well soak in that sight now,” he murmured, “because it ain’t gonna last much longer.”

Sparks took a deep breath. “I knew this place wasn’t a permanent stop for us,” she admitted. “Just would have been nice for it to last a little longer.”

He reached over and patted her on the leg with a reassuring smile. “It’ll be okay, girl,” he drawled. “When this is all over, we’ll find us a nice quiet place to settle down.” When she laughed, he raised an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?” he asked.

“You just never struck me as the type to want to settle down,” she replied, eyes shining as she gazed at him.

He shrugged and winked at her. “What can I say?” he asked. “The apocalypse has a way of changing a man.”

They shared a grin, and then he hit the gas, speeding down the interstate towards Fabens.

CHAPTER NINE

Leon and Rogers walked up to a house across the street from the high school. There was a hive of activity around both the school and surrounding houses, with people working on several projects inside and out.

In front of the school, some people dug trenches, while others installed metal siding on the windows on the first floor of the building. Several people carried tools and other materials inside.

The houses had fewer people, but still plenty of work being done. Some of the windows needed reinforcing with metal siding, while some rudimentary traps were being set up inside.

“So remind me again of what the trenches are for?” Rogers asked, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t think a couple of ditches are going to pose much of a threat to the cartel if they attack.”

Leon shrugged. “Trenches can be effective in battle,” he replied.

“Sure, if we were in France in nineteen-fifteen,” the detective shot back, rolling his eyes. “That doesn’t seem to be the case here.”

“Okay, you got me,” Leon replied with a sigh. “A couple of these people really wanted to help with the town defenses and let’s just say I wouldn’t trust them with a pair of safety scissors. Figured they couldn’t do much damage just digging trenches.” He shrugged. “Plus, if we do have some zombies pay us a visit, it will trip them up.”

They approached a house directly across the street from the school. The front windows were totally covered in metal sheeting, providing some defense. They walked inside and headed over to the kitchen counter, which had a hole cut in the top of it.

Rogers raised an eyebrow. “What do we have here?” he asked.

“Take a look,” Leon invited with a grin, motioning to the hole.

Rogers leaned in and spotted a two-liter plastic soda bottle with something inside that looked suspiciously not like soda. “What am I looking at?” he asked.

“That is a custom made, remote detonated chlorine bomb,” Leon replied proudly.

Roger’s eyes widened. “How many of these do we have?” he asked.

“Three,” Leon replied. “Got this house, one on the north side and one on the south side of the school.”

The detective nodded. “Well, it’s something at least,” he said. “Do we have any non-trap-filled houses for us?”

“Yeah, but nothing on the front line though,” Leon explained. “One of the rooms at the middle school across the field survived the fire, so we reinforced it and turned it into a safe house. My thinking was the cartel would see that it’s burned out and not worry about it. Outside of that, I have a safe house set up five blocks away. We made sure to camouflage it though, putting the protection on the inside and dressing it up so that it looks like a normal window.”

Rogers raised an eyebrow. “Why so far away?” he asked.

“I just figured if something bad goes down, it might be wise to have people outside the battlefield,” Leon explained.

The detective nodded. “Can’t argue with that.”

As they stood by the kitchen counter, Clara yelled from outside.

“Leon! Rogers!” she called. “Where are you two?”

The detective shook his head. “What did you do now?” he teased.

“Whatever it was, I’m sure I can pin it on you,” his friend replied, and they headed out of the house.

“You looking for us?” Rogers asked, and she whipped around in the middle of the street.

“You gotta come with me now,” she huffed as she ran over.

The detective blinked at her. “Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not,” Clara replied, shaking her head.

“I’ll be in the school ready to strike if it comes to that,” Rogers replied.

She waved her hand in front of her face. “No no, it’s not the Cartel,” she gushed. “It’s worse.”

The men exchanged a concerned look, and Leon finally threw up his hands.

“Well, what’s going on?” he demanded.

She waved for them to follow her and started walking. “It’s going to be easier to let Sparks explain everything,” she said. “Her and her friend Rufus are in the command center.”

The men followed her, the three of them moving at almost a jog to the command center. They opened the door and found Rufus and Sparks sitting at a desk chatting with Ethel, who had poured them each a fresh cup of hot coffee.

“Good to see ole Ethel here is taking good care of you,” Rogers said as they approached.

Rufus held up his steaming mug. “Not sure how she knew we were coming,” he drawled, “but the coffee was fresh as soon as we pulled up.”

“Well, she is the hostess with the mostest,” Leon declared.

Rogers blinked at him. “The hostess with the mostest?” he blurted. “Did you really just say that?”

“Well it’s true, isn’t it?” Leon replied sheepishly.

The detective shook his head. “Well… yeah…” he stammered. “It just sounded a bit weird coming out of your mouth.”

“Would it make you feel better if I called her a fucking badass hostess?” Leon asked.

“Language,” Ethel sang playfully, wagging her finger.

Leon motioned to her. “See?” he asked Rogers. “You got me in trouble!”

“You’re not in trouble, sweetie,” Ethel replied. “Just if you’re going to use that kind of language, do it right. I prefer motherfucking badass, not just fucking badass.”

The group roared with laughter at the little old lady using such colorful language, and she smiled triumphantly before gathering up some mugs for the newcomers.

“Gents, I would like you to meet Sparks and Rufus,” Clara said as the trio reached the sitting couple.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you two,” Leon said, extending his hand.

Rogers nodded as they all took turns shaking hands. “And really good to finally have faces to go along with names.”

“Good to meet you as well,” Sparks replied, “just wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Clara said there was a major problem?” Leon prompted.

“If that ain’t the mother of all understatements,” Rufus muttered, shaking his head.

“This morning we ran a mission to the east of Fort Stockton, about seventy miles away,” Sparks began, leaning back in her chair. “While there, we discovered that hundreds of thousands of zombies were marching straight down the interstate.”

Leon and Rogers stood there, stunned, blinking at her.

“Hundreds of thousands?” Leon breathed.

The detective put a hand to his forehead. “Are you sure?”

“You mean, did we stop and do a headcount?” Rufus drawled. “No, can’t say that we did. But those critters covered every square inch of the interstate and stretched back at least a mile.”

“How long until the satellite is in range?” Rogers asked immediately.

Leon checked his watch. “Two minutes,” he replied.

“Get it punched up,” the detective instructed, and his partner rushed over to his desk, powering up the computer as Sparks set down her mug and leaned forward.

“That’s not our only problem,” she said.

Rogers rolled his eyes. “Of course it’s not,” he said, sarcasm evident in his tone, “why would it be?”

“They’re not just staying on the interstate,” she explained. “When they come to an exit, hundreds or maybe even thousands are shoving off the main road.”

“We don’t know how far down they go once they take the exit,” Rufus added, “but even so, it’s not good.”

Leon spun around in his chair. “Well, as soon as this baby comes online, we’ll see just how deep they penetrate,” he said.

“That’s what she said,” Rufus quipped.

Sparks shot him an incredulous look. “Really?”

He shrugged. “Just trying to fit in,” he said.

Leon chuckled. “You got a keeper there, Sparks.”

“So what is this thing, anyway?” Rufus asked before taking a loud slurp of his coffee.

“Well, before I made my unscheduled departure from the military,” Leon began, “I… ahem… borrowed this piece of machinery from them. It connects to a satellite so we can get a real time view of the situation on the ground.”

Rufus nodded thoughtfully. “Wish I would have thought of that,” he drawled. “All I got was some shrapnel and a healthy dose of PTSD.”

“If it’s any consolation, nothing has really changed since your day,” Leon replied. “That’s still the standard parting gift.”

Rufus barked a laugh. “Good to know there’s still at least one normal thing left in this world.”

The monitor flickered to life, a real-time image coming up. It was high altitude, but Leon quickly zoomed in on their location.

“So how far down was it again?” he asked as he typed.

Sparks got up and headed over to the desk to watch. “About seventy miles east of Fort Stockton,” she replied. “Straight up the interstate. There is some small town just south of the main road.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard to find,” Leon murmured as he worked.

He moved the camera down the interstate, quickly crossing over Fort Stockton and moving towards the horde. It didn’t take long before the gray asphalt turned into a solid dark line.

“Whoa, that doesn’t look good,” he said, and zoomed in on the front edge of the horde. The zombies moved slowly down the freeway. The image looked like it was hovering about thirty feet above the ground, so while they couldn’t exactly make out individual features, the mass was clearly moving.

“If only we had some idea of how fast they were moving,” Rogers murmured, stepping up behind his friend.

“We thought of that,” Sparks piped up. “Rough estimate is two miles an hour.”

Rogers turned away from the screen. “Ethel, I need a map, please,” he said, and then glanced at Sparks. “What’s the name of the town?”

“It’s called Sheffield,” she replied.

He walked away as Leon zoomed out from the close perspective to get a better idea of how far they went back. Rufus approached to watch, and the trio gasped at the sight of the line stretching for what appeared to be miles.

“Where is that town at again?” Leon asked.

“Just look south of the interstate and keep moving east,” Sparks instructed. “It’s going to be the only buildings you see.”

He moved the camera long, parallel to the interstate headed to the east. After a moment, they found the town, again prompting an audible gasp.

“Jesus,” Rufus breathed. “These things act like a windup toy. Just point ‘em in a direction and they keep walking.”

They huddled around the screen, watching the entire town swallowed by zombies. Easily two or three thousand ghouls roamed around over every exposed space.

“Check the interstate,” Sparks said softly.

Leon moved the camera up, and they saw the line of zombies had passed by. He zoomed the camera up until they could see the tail end of it, which appeared to be a few miles to the west.

“How long has it been since you left this town?” Leon asked.

Rufus shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe five hours?” he replied.

Leon zoomed the camera out so he could see the entirety of the line and how far back it was from the town. He focused intently on it, doing calculations in his head. After a moment of muttering to himself, he cleared his throat and spoke at his regular volume.

“That line is two to three miles long,” he said. “And doing some rough calculations on the side of the road, and average width of a human being, there are somewhere between half a million and a million zombies headed our way.”

There was a moment of silence before Rufus sputtered, “Oh, is that all?” he asked. “Well, I got thirty rounds for my handgun, so that gets us halfway there.”

Nobody laughed, and Sparks patted his arm in thanks for trying to lighten the mood.

“Now we just have to figure out how long we have to deal with this,” Leon said, letting out a deep breath.

Rogers stood up from the map he’d been studying. “I need a calculator,” he called.

“Got one in my head, let’s go,” Leon said, whirling his chair around.

“Best I can tell using this map,” the detective began, “Sheffield is two hundred and eighty miles from Fabens.”

Leon nodded. “So if they’re moving at two miles an hour,” he paused, “that gives us a hundred and forty hours before they arrive on our doorstep. Or just under six days.”

There was another long moment of silence as everyone stood stock still, unsure of what to do or say.

Finally Sparks took a deep breath. “Rogers, see how far they are from Fort Stockton,” she instructed. “And whatever other potential choke points you can find.”

“And the Fort Davis exit,” Clara added. “We’re going to have to go and warn them.”

Rogers leaned over his map to get to work.

“So,” Rufus said, flopping down into his chair and slapping his knees, “I don’t suppose that satellite of yours has tactical nukes or anything, does it?”

Leon chuckled. “Man, the military barely lets me have intelligence,” he replied, shaking his head. “You think they’d give me access to something like a nuke?”

“Based on the quality of our politicians, I’d say that having intelligence is a disqualifying trait to having access to nukes,” Rufus quipped.

Leon threw his head back and laughed. “Sparks, you really got a keeper here,” he gasped.

She blinked at him in confusion, having been lost in thought, and snapped out of it at the sound of her name.

“You okay, girl?” Rufus asked, furrowing his brow.

“Just thinking,” she replied, and then turned to Clara. “I need you to do me a favor before you go to Marfa to speak to those guys,” she said.

Clara nodded. “Anything.”

“Hammond and his crew are holed up five miles to the east of town with Jeff, Ricky, and Mary,” Sparks explained. “Ricky is in no condition to fight, and I need you to convince them to allow them in.”

Clara furrowed her brow. “Why don’t Hammond and company just hightail it out of harm’s way until they pass?” she asked.

“Probably because they want to use this as an opportunity to get Mathis,” Leon piped up from his desk.

“Yep,” Sparks replied. “Took a lot of convincing on my part to get them to hand tight instead of rushing up here.”

Leon shook his head. “Well, that’s good, because the cartel has been keeping a close eye on us ever since the assassination attempt,” he said. “They have a car on the other side of the bridge just watching us.”

“We probably confused the hell out of them when we came rolling in,” Rufus said with a chuckle.

“You did them a favor,” Leon joked, “probably the most entertainment they’re gonna get today.”

Rogers approached with a notepad, waving it around to get everyone’s attention. “You should know I care about each and every one of you,” he began, “because I did math.” After some light chuckles, he tapped his pencil on the paper. “We have roughly thirty-two hours until they reach Fort Stockton,” he explained. “Ninety-five until they reach Van Horn. And a hundred and seventy-five before they hit El Paso.”

Leon nodded. “Okay, time to get Rodriguez up here to tell him what’s up,” he suggested. “Because whether we like it or not, we’re going to need the Cartel’s help.”

“Cartel’s help?” Rufus blurted. “Why not just evacuate? You can’t have that many people here, can you?”

“We have eighty something,” Rogers replied.

From the other side of the room, Ethel piped up, “Eighty-seven.”

“Thanks, Ethel,” the detective called back.

Leon shook his head. “We’re not doing anything until we talk to Rodriguez,” he said firmly. “The Cartel is watching us, so god only knows what their orders are. Clara, I want you to go ahead and take off for Marfa.”

Rufus took his keys from his pocket and tossed them over to her. “Go ahead and take my truck,” he said. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll think we were just dropping off supplies.”

“And if it’s okay,” Sparks continued, “Jeff is going to ride back with you.”

Clara nodded and turned to leave.

“Hold up,” Leon said, holding up a hand. “I’m going to have you drop me off at the bridge. I gotta talk to the Cartel boys, which if nothing else should distract them while you haul ass.”

She nodded again. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Y’all hang tight,” Leon said, motioning to the group, “I’ll be right back.”

Clara and Leon exited the building and hopped into the truck. She fired it up and threw it into gear, heading for the bridge. She stopped a block away from the on ramp to the interstate, peering over at a luxury sedan sitting on the side of the road, facing them.

“We got some fancy lads today, it would seem,” Leon quipped. “Guess when you don’t have to go through a credit check, you can get anything you want.”

“I’ll stick with my pickup truck, thanks,” Clara said, wrinkling her nose.

Leon chuckled. “Don’t blame you at all,” he agreed. “Now, when you hit the interstate, I want you to floor it. You need to put as much distance between you and the Cartel as possible. I don’t think they’re going to follow you, but just in case, you know?”

She nodded firmly. “I won’t stop speeding until I hit the Van Horn turnoff,” she promised, and then offered him a smile. “Good luck.”

“You too,” he said, and got out of the truck, smacking the tailgate as he walked around it. As soon as he did so, Clara floored it and tore down the interstate, hopefully to safety.

Leon walks in the middle of the road, arms held out to the side to show that he was unarmed. Within a few moments, the car on the other side of the bridge pulled out and raced over to him. At first it picked up a lot of speed, and he wondered for a moment if they would smack into him just for the hell of it, but at the last second they slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop five yards away.

“Yeah, you know not to fuck with me,” Leon muttered to himself. “That’s good.”

He strolled over to the driver’s side window, giving it a casual knock. It was difficult to see inside the extreme tinting job on the windows, but it rolled down after a moment.

Two Cartel members sat inside, each with several tattoos visible despite being well-dressed in expensive suits.

“What the fuck you want, man?” the driver snapped. “And who the fuck was that driving away so quick?”

Leon raised an eyebrow. “Oh, them?” he asked offhandedly. “They were just making some deliveries. Gotta keep your boss happy, after all.”

“Yeah, whatever man,” the driver said with a scowl. “What do you want?”

Leon leaned on the window, propping himself up on his elbows. “I need you to get Rodriguez on the line and tell him to get down here ASAP.”

The men shared a look, and then burst into hysterical laughter, the driver even going so far as to slap the steering wheel in his mirth.

“I say something funny?” Leon demanded.

“Hell yeah you did, man!” the driver gasped through his laughter. “The fuck we look like, your servants or some shit?”

Leon ran his tongue over his teeth. “Nah, you just look like a couple of low men on the totem pole who aren't good enough to get a real job, so you got stuck out here watching us.”

The driver growled, face quickly turning from amusement to anger.

“You also look like the type that Tiago Rivas would have no problem gutting like a fish because your idiocy let his empire fall,” Leon continued before either of them could spit back at him.

The passenger’s brow furrowed in concern, and the driver jutted out his chin.

“What you talking about, man?” he demanded.

“I know shit you don’t,” Leon replied gravely, “and if you don’t get Rodriguez down here right now, I’m going to make sure everybody knows you’re the reason El Paso falls. Hell, might be worth it just to get a good show of Tiago ripping you to shreds just before everyone dies.”

The driver looked at his buddy, who shrugged. Neither of them seemed to know what to make of the situation, but the driver finally nodded.

“Yeah, whatever man,” he said, sounding like he was trying far too hard to sound casual, “I’ll make the call.” He rolled up the window and threw the car in reverse, backing up across the bridge and back to their spot.

Leon breathed a sigh of relief as he turned to walk back to the command center, thankful that they hadn’t gone rushing after Clara.

I think they bought it, he thought to himself. I hope they bought it.

CHAPTER TEN

Clara drove past Marfa, headed towards the rendezvous spot. She scanned the horizon and spotted an SUV parked on the side of the road, pulling around beside them before hopping out. As she did, three soldiers and Jeff got out to greet her.

“Man, is it good to see you three again,” she said, opening her arms.

Hammond grinned as he hugged her. “Likewise,” he replied.

After a round of greetings, she took a step back, and the Sergeant crossed his arms.

“So, what’s the word on Marfa?” he asked.

Clara shook her head. “Haven’t been yet, I wanted to talk it over with you before making contact,” she explained. “These guys aren’t exactly keen on outsiders. I’ve been there twice, and they’ve shot at me both times, so we might not get a friendly welcome.”

Landry raised his gun. “We can handle whatever they throw at us,” he declared.

Whitaker reached over and smacked the rifle down. “We’re trying to get their help, not make more enemies, dumbass,” she snapped.

“So what do you need us to do?” Hammond asked Clara.

She took a deep breath. “I want you to follow me to Marfa,” she replied. “I’ll give you the signal on where to stop. I’m going to have to talk to them first… and hopefully they listen to reason.”

“We’ll play it your way,” Hammond promised. “If there’s any trouble though, we won’t leave you hanging.”

She nodded. “I appreciate that, Sergeant,” she replied. “Come on, let’s go.”

Clara led the mini-caravan down the highway back to town. They pulled off the road, turning onto the main strip through town. When they got a few blocks down, she put her hand out the window to get them to stop, and watched through the rearview as they did.

The main portion of town looked the same as it had for weeks. No zombies, no signs of distress, and the Cartel-infused barricade at the far end, displaying the corpses of those who dared to cause trouble.

As she got close to the barricade, she spotted a few rifle-toting cowboys coming out of the buildings, motioning for her to stop. Clara got out of the truck, hands held high.

“Clara, good to see you again,” Andrew drawled, meeting her in the middle of the road. He leaned over, exaggerating, looking past her to the SUV a few blocks back. “Gotta say though, I am disappointed that on your first visit back you broke our agreement. I said you, and only you, could come here.”

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t an emergency,” she replied.

He nodded. “Of that I have no doubt,” he said. “Still doesn’t explain why you broke our agreement.”

“Because I need your help,” she insisted. “And quite frankly, you need mine as well.”

There was a ripple of laughter from the others in the group, but Andrew kept a straight face as he held up his hand to quiet down his companions.

“Now why would we need your help?” he asked.

She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Because there is a horde of zombies coming this way,” she replied, “bigger than anything we’ve ever seen.”

“We’ve handled hordes before,” Andrew scoffed, waving a hand at her dismissively. “This time won’t be any different.”

She jutted out her chin. “What’s the biggest horde you’ve handled?” she pressed. “A hundred? Five hundred?”

“We had a few hundred wander down from the north a couple weeks back,” he replied, voice challenging. “Wasn’t any big deal.”

Her gaze turned to steel. “There are half a million to a million of those things marching this way,” she said. “They’re going to be here in a matter of days.”

The amused attitude of the cowboys quickly turned to concern.

“Bullshit!” one of them barked, but Andrew raised his hand again.

He took a step forward, studying her face as if to look for deception. “I want to make sure I look you in the eye when I ask you this,” he said, voice laced with warning. “Are you bullshitting me? Or are there really that many of those things headed our way?”

She stared him level in the eyes. “There are at least half a million zombies, quite possibly a million, just to the east of Fort Stockton,” she declared. “And if we don’t help each other, none of us are going to survive.”

He chewed his lip for a moment and then nodded. “What are you proposing?”

“I have an injured man that is in need of shelter,” she replied, and he immediately rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Relax, he was shot a couple of weeks ago in the shoulder, and is still recovering,” she insisted. “He’s not in any danger, but he’s also not strong enough to fight. His wife is taking care of him, and they have all the food and medicine they’re going to need. Literally all they need now is a roof over their heads and a pillow to lay them on.”

Andrew tongued his cheek and then slowly nodded. “We can take them in,” he drawled, “but only until this passes.”

“I can live with that,” Clara replied, pressing her palms together. “Thank you.”

He held up a finger. “Now, I thought you said you could help us out,” he prompted. “Doesn’t sound like these two are going to be much use.”

“I have some friends I want to introduce you to,” she said.

He nodded, inclining his head towards the SUV. She turned and gave a powerful whistle, before motioning to Hammond to drive up.

The cowboys all stiffened, but Andrew waved at them to chill out.

The SUV pulled up, and the three soldiers and Jeff got out, sauntering up behind Clara.

“I’d like you to meet Sergeant Hammond, Private Landry, and Private Whitaker,” she said, motioning to her friends. “They are a trio of badasses who are going to help you set up defenses for the horde.” She shot Hammond a look, and he understood that he had to back her play, so he smiled and extended a hand.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he said. “Whatever we can do to help defend your town, we’re happy to do it while we’re here.”

Andrew crossed his arms, ignoring the offered hand. “While you’re here?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Doesn’t sound like you’re planning on staying very long.”

“A few days at most,” the Sergeant replied.

The cowboy glared at Clara. “I hope that just because I look like a cowboy that you aren’t assuming I’m a dumb hick,” he snapped. “Because this…” he trailed off, waving a hand at the soldiers, “doesn’t add up.”

Hammond sighed. “The Cartel has one of our men held captive,” he explained, holding up his hands in defeat. “We’re going to use the zombie horde as cover to get into the city and get him out. They’re watching Fabens, so we can’t go there without risking detection, so we came here.” He took a deep breath. “Now, if you’re not comfortable with us staying with you, we totally understand. We have no problem roughing it out in the wild. God knows we’ve stayed in worse conditions over the years. We just figured our skills might be of some use to you and yours, so we thought we’d offer.”

Andrew appraised him, nodding thoughtfully. “Thank you for the honesty,” he drawled. “And if it’s as bad as you say it is, we could certainly use your help.” He glanced at Jeff. “And what about you, big fella?”

“That’s Jeff,” Clara piped up, “and he’s coming with me.”

“Fair enough,” Andrew replied. “So, any idea when we can expect the horde to get to us?”

She tilted her head back and forth. “Our best guess at the moment is two and a half days,” she replied. “Could be longer if we manage to slow them down.”

“Okay, we’ll approach it like that’s our timeline,” the cowboy replied. “Anything we get on top of that is gravy.” He glanced at Hammond. “If you don’t mind, I’ll ride with you up to Fort Davis.”

The Sergeant nodded. “We certainly have the room,” he replied. “Whenever you’re ready.” The soldiers headed back to the SUV, and Jeff wandered over to the truck to get into the passenger seat, leaving Clara with the cowboys.

“Does the Cartel know that we’re in Fort Davis?” Andrew asked.

She shook her head. “Only our ally in the Cartel ranks,” she replied. “We had to tell him where we got the body.”

“Okay, I’d like to keep it that way,” he warned.

“Understood,” Clara replied with a nod. “I’ll come back here and let you know what the plan is. Once we have one, that is. I assume we’re going to try and stop them at Fort Stockton, but I don’t know the specifics.”

He took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m going to be pulling my men from here since it sounds like we’re going to need all hands on deck,” he explained, and pointed to the building on the corner. “That building there. I’m going to leave a radio set up and make sure it’s monitored twenty-four seven on my end. When you know something, that’s how you reach us.”

“When I know, you’ll know,” she promised.

He nodded and headed for the SUV, leaving Clara to hop into the driver’s seat of the truck.

“So, do we know how bad it is, yet?” Jeff asked as she turned around.

She nodded, jaw tight. “It’s bad enough to make me wonder if we’re going to survive it.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Leon sat at the satellite computer, saving images of the horde, while Rufus leaned over his shoulder, watching him work.

“Man, if we had this kind of stuff back when I was in the military…” the older man drawled, “well, it probably wouldn’t have done us much good since all they’d see is trees.”

Leon nodded. “Yeah, I’ve heard some real horror stories about ‘Nam from some of the old timers.”

Rufus clucked his tongue playfully.

“Not saying you’re an old timer,” Leon gushed, eyes wide. “Just, you know—”

“I’m just joshing you, man,” Rufus replied, grinning wide. “I know I’m an old fuck.”

Leon chuckled, shaking his head. “You said it, not me.”

They shared a laugh, and then Rufus sighed.

“Yeah, that jungle was a bitch,” he admitted. “Of course, it doesn’t sound like the desert was much better.”

Leon wrinkled his nose. “At least we didn’t have to worry about the trees talking before opening fire,” he replied.

“This is true,” Rufus said with a nod.

Sparks sat by the window and perked up as an SUV pulled up and a lone man got out. “We got company,” she called.

Rogers rushed over to the window, looking out and breathing a sigh of relief when he recognized Rodriguez.

“We’re good,” the detective said, “it’s just him.”

Sparks raised an eyebrow. “Would it be bad if it wasn’t?” she asked.

“He’s the one who spared me, and the only one in the Cartel to know I’m alive,” Rogers explained. “It’s probably best we keep it that way.”

Sparks nodded as he went over to open the door, and Rodriguez strolled in.

“I hope that you have good news for me,” he declared, “but somehow I doubt it.”

Ethel appeared with a cup of fresh coffee, holding it out to the Cartel member. “Here you go sweetie,” she said with a smile, “at least your visit will start out well.”

He returned her smile and took the mug. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said politely.

She winked at him and headed off back to her desk. As soon as she had her back turned, his smile dropped, and he turned to Rogers with a stoic expression.

“So why am I here?” he asked.

The detective led Rodriguez over to the computer, and Leon brought up a tight shot of the horde that covered the entire screen.

“What am I looking at?” Rodriguez asked, raising an eyebrow.

Rogers took a deep breath. “Zombies, and a lot of them,” he replied. “On the interstate and marching our way.”

“Looks like we can handle them,” Rodriguez replied with a shrug.

Leon pulled back the camera, bringing up a wide shot showing the entire length of the horde.

Rodriguez froze mid-sip of coffee, eyes widening. “How many and how soon?” he breathed.

“Half a million to a million,” Leon replied. “They’ll be on us in five and a half days. Half a day later, they’ll be in El Paso.”

Rodriguez sat back on the desk, staring down into his cup of coffee in silence.

After several moments, Rufus cleared his throat. “So, is he a great thinker, or did we break his mind?” he asked.

“A little of both, I’m afraid,” Rodriguez admitted, swirling the hot brew in his mug. “I don’t believe we’re acquainted,” he said, looking at the older man.

“This is Rufus, and that over there is Sparks,” Leon introduced, motioning to the duo. “They are some friends of ours from the other side of Fort Stockton.”

“And the only reason we know about the incoming horde,” Rogers added.

Rodriguez took a deep breath. “Are you capable?” he asked.

“We started out in Austin and made it here,” Sparks replied dryly, “leaving more than a few who doubted us rotting in our wake.”

The Cartel member smirked. “I like you,” he said, wagging a finger at her. “And more importantly, I believe you.” He took a thoughtful sip of his coffee and then began to pace back and forth. “So, what are your ideas?” he finally asked. “I assume you have some.”

“Our first thought was to load everybody up in the vehicles we have in town, and just move north,” Rogers suggested.

Rodriguez shook his head. “Tiago will never allow that to happen,” he replied. “He lets you exist because you bring him alcohol, and because knowing he can wipe you out on a whim amuses him. There are standing orders to eliminate anyone who attempts to leave this place outside of normal supply runs.”

“So much for that idea,” Leon muttered.

Rodriguez looked around the quiet room. “Is that it?” he asked incredulously. “You brought me out here to ask if you could run away?”

“No, we have another request,” Sparks piped up, getting to her feet.

“By all means,” he replied, waving for her to speak.

“We need to know where Mathis is,” she explained, “and we need your help getting the others inside the city so he can be rescued.”

He blinked at her in amazement. “Normally I live by the creed of anything for a woman, especially a pretty one,” he said. “But what you ask, I’m afraid, is a bit much.”

“What if we could make it worth your while?” Rufus inquired.

Rodriguez shot the old man a sly smile. “I’m intrigued at what you think you can offer me,” he said.

“Well it seems to me, that we have a common enemy in Tiago Rivas,” Rufus continued. “You help them get in, get Mathis back, and they take care of our mutual problem.”

Rodriguez chuckled. “Well my friend, I don’t know if you are aware, but we’ve already tried that plan once,” he said, and took a loud slurp of his coffee. “Didn’t work out so well for anyone involved, especially for poor Mathis.”

“Do you have any brothers, Rodriguez?” Rufus asked.

The Cartel member’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Yes, a younger one,” he replied. “Why the sudden interest in my family?”

“To make a point about not giving up,” Rufus replied. “Your mother obviously knew she fucked up, so she tried again and had your brother.”

Leon, Sparks, and Rogers all gaped at the brash old man with wide eyes. There was a tense moment of silence before Rodriguez threw his head back and laughed, setting his mug down on the desk to avoid spilling it.

“You have spirit, old man,” he finally said, shaking his head. “I respect that.” He sighed, sobering a little. “But this is still a tall order.”

“We’re already facing down a million zombies,” Leon cut in. “Might as well go for broke.”

Rodriguez took a deep breath, tilting his head back and forth. “Getting Tiago out of the way would make all our lives easier,” he agreed. “I am not in favor of this plan… yet. I will give it some thought, and if I feel as though I have a viable plan that can be enacted, I will give it my blessing.”

“That’s all we can ask for,” Rogers said.

“But now, back to our most pressing issue, the horde,” Rodriguez continued, raising his palms. “When I inform Tiago of this, he will have El Paso locked up tight, so the concern is for you. Now, I think I can convince him to lend some supplies, and quite possible some help in protecting the town, but it will be difficult.”

“What if we raise the stakes?” Sparks piped up, crossing her arms. “Make the situation seem more dire than it really is?”

Rodriguez raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think his reaction will change if we tell him there are two million zombies instead of just a million,” he mused.

Sparks shook his head. “Wrong thing to exaggerate,” she replied. “If we tell him the truth that we have six days before they reach El Paso, he’s not going to care about us, because that’s more than enough time to secure the city. However, if we tell him that they’ll be here in two days, we might be able to convince him to send help. Tell him if he sends men that we’ll be able to slow them down and buy them more time to prepare.”

Rodriguez thought about it a moment, and then picked up his mug again, taking a long sip before nodding. “If we play it like this we might be able to convince him,” he agreed. “It would also open up opportunities to smuggle the others into the city so they can take another shot.”

“Tell him we need Angel to help,” Rogers said suddenly.

Leon shook his head. “I know you have a score to settle but—”

“Damn right I have a score to settle,” the detective cut in, “and this may be the only time I’m going to be able to do it.”

Rodriguez pursed his lips. “It’s risky, but having him out of the way will make it easier for me to seize control of the Cartel once Tiago has been eliminated,” he agreed, and nodded. “I will do what I can.”

“All I can ask,” Rogers replied.

“Okay,” Rodriguez said, setting his empty mug on the desk, “I should go speak with Tiago, telling him we have two days they are on us. Assuming he agrees, I will be back at first light with men and supplies.”

“What do you need from us?” Leon asked.

“An inventory of what you have, between equipment, supplies, and people,” Rodriguez replied, counting off on his fingers. “Having some course of action for how to slow down the horde could be of some use as well.”

“We’ll be ready,” Rogers promised. “Well… they’ll be ready, since I’ll be in hiding.”

Rodriguez raised an eyebrow. “Are you leaving town?” he asked.

The detective shook his head. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The Carte member nodded at him and inclined his head over to Ethel. “Wonderful as always, ma’am,” he called. “Thank you for the hospitality.”

“Anytime,” she replied, waving a hand at him. “Now you be safe out there.”

He nodded and headed out of the command center. As he got in the SUV and drove off, Sparks turned away from the window and crossed her arms.

“So, now what?” she asked.

Leon took a deep breath. “Well, we already have a pretty good inventory of what we have in town, so we’re good there,” he replied.

“Any chance I can take a look at it?” Rufus asked.

“Oh, sure,” Rogers replied with a nod. “Ethel?”

“I got the file at my house,” she replied. “I’ll be back with it in a few minutes. Or, if y’all just wanna come on by in a half hour or so, I can feed you a hot meal.”

“Well, that’s what we’re doing,” Rufus declared.

Leon chuckled. “Guess we have our plan, then,” he said. “We’ll see you there, Ethel.”

She waved and headed out as Leon began to shut down the computer.

“Wait,” Sparks said, walking up to him. “Can you pull up Fort Stockton?’ she asked.

He nodded and zeroed in on the image, showing the entire city. She studied it before looking around on the desk for a pen and paper. She grabbed a pencil and started sketching out the city.

When he gave her the side-eye, she glanced at him.

“I figure this is going to be our first opportunity to break up the horde,” she explained. “Gotta know what our options are.”

Leon stood up. “I think we have a road map of it somewhere,” he replied. “I’ll track it down.” He spotted Rufus and Rogers by the door and waved at them. “Rogers, why don’t you give Rufus a nickel tour of the town? He might have some ideas on how to defend it. Maybe grab Trenton while you’re at it. We’ll meet you at Ethels in a bit.”

The detective nodded and the two men headed out the door. Leon and Sparks turned back to their paperwork, everyone somber with the weight of the threat on their shoulders.

CHAPTER TWELVE

With the comforting noises of Ethel cooking in the kitchen, the smells even better, Rufus and Rogers sat by the fire in the living room sipping cans of soda. The older man pored over a notebook filled with handwritten notes of the inventory of the town, while Trenton, Sparks, and Leon sat at the dining room table studying several maps.

“So, what do you think?” Rogers asked. “Can you make some good stuff with what we have here?”

Rufus nodded. “Oh yeah, we’re going to have some fun,” he replied. “Just off the top of my head, with what I’m seeing on the list, I can make seventeen redneck rattlers, four backwoods butchers, and one humdinger.”

Rogers raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to assume that will cause a fair amount of damage,” he said slowly.

Rufus nodded. “Oh yeah, especially the humdinger,” he replied with a grin. “Hell, they might even hear it in El Paso.” His eyes lit up. “Wait, can I have one of the buses?”

“When it comes to defending this town, you can have whatever you need,” Rogers replied with a nod, and then paused. “But I’m guessing we wouldn’t be getting the bus back once you’re done with it?”

Rufus chuckled. “Lord no,” he drawled. “I mean, a few pieces might land here in town, but it’s not going to be operational.”

“This is going to be a hell of an adventure,” Rogers said with a sigh. “But even with that kind of force, it’s not going to make much of a dent in a horde that size, is it?”

“I mean, if I pack it perfectly, we could probably take out a thousand or so with it,” the older man replied, “but I was thinking of using it as a diversion.”

“How so?” the detective asked.

Rufus leaned forward. “Well, we know those things come off the interstate and infest the exits,” he said. “My thought is that we have somebody stationed with the humdinger a mile or so up the road north of here. We wait until the main group wanders by, then set it off. In theory, the noise should attract the zombies in town here and lure them into the desert.”

“Don’t we risk turning around the main group if we do that?” Rogers asked.

The older man contemplated for a moment, rubbing his chin. “That’s a concern,” he admitted, “but I think if we let ‘em get a couple miles up the road before detonating it, the trickle back will be negligible.”

“All right,” Rogers agreed, “we’ll start setting it up first thing in the morning. Along with the town defenses.”

Rufus raised a finger. “I had some thoughts on that, too,” he said. “How attached are you to those bridges over the rainwater channel?”

Rogers chuckled. “Looks like we might get to break out the jackhammer,” he said.

“Hey boys, before you get too crazy with the town defenses,” Sparks piped up, turning around in her seat, “can you brainstorm some ideas on how to slow down the horde? Not only do we need the time, but we need to put on a good show for the cartel since we’re telling a blatant lie to Tiago.”

The boys exchanged a look and shrugged, but nodded. Satisfied, Sparks turned back towards the table of maps.

“I’m guessing you don’t need all the cars in town?” Rufus asked.

Rogers shook his head. “Not unless you want to start Crazy Rufus’ Used Car Lot once we survive this,” he joked.

“Nah, but I wouldn’t mind saving a few just in case we come across a monster truck,” the older man quipped. “Always been on my bucket list to crush some smaller cars with a bigger one.”

The detective laughed. “I like the way you think,” he said. “But what do you want to do with the cars?”

“A flaming rag in the gas tank combined with a brick on the accelerator and you have yourself a rolling IED,” Rufus explained. “Smack them into the crowd and let it go boom. Shrapnel should take out some, but the resulting fire should hit even more.”

Rogers clapped his hands together and sat forward, eyes lighting up. “Oh hell yeah!” he exclaimed. “I almost forgot about our flamethrowers!”

“You have flamethrowers?” Rufus cried. “Oh, we’re going to have some fun!”

They jabbered on quickly with excitement, and Sparks shook her head, stifling a smile before focusing back on the map of Fort Stockton. She and Leon had written several notes on the map, highlighting potential chokepoints for the marching horde.

The center of town was circled, with a bright red line curving around the northern edge. There were two black X’s, one on the east side, and one on the northern side. Leon pointed to the former.

“So the highway runs straight through the center of town before cutting up to the northwest,” he said. “My concern about breaking some of the main horde off here, is that we still have a significant group on the highway in the middle of town. What happens when the two of them meet?”

Sparks pursed her lips for a moment and then leaned forward. “If we pull enough of them off of the interstate and onto the highway, it should be enough to force the stationary ones to get moving in the right direction,” she suggested. “Plus, if we can pull that off, they’ll walk right under the interstate here.” She drew an X on the northwest side of town. “The noise and movement might pull more of those things off of the main group. Now, it’s going to be risky pulling them from the interstate here, because whoever does that is essentially going to be trapped in the middle. So they’re going to have to get out of the way and hide.”

“I can handle that,” Trenton said, raising his hand. “Somebody is going to have to come pick me up afterwards, however.”

“What, you don’t want to hitchhike back?” Leon asked with a smirk.

Trenton rolled his eyes. “Really?” he asked. “You want to picture me showing a little leg to get a truck to pull off the interstate?”

Leon wrinkled his nose. “Consider the question withdrawn,” he declared, and chuckles rippled around the table. He focused on the X at the top of the map, tapping his finger on it. “So you think we can pull some off here, too?” he asked.

“Don’t see why not,” Sparks replied with a shrug. “We’ll just have multiple teams for both diversion points. This group is going to have a bit of a wait, because they’ll have to speed up and duck down one of these rural roads and wait them out. So if you’re on that team, bring a book because it’s going to be a long day.”

Trenton raised an eyebrow. “What about pulling them south?” he asked.

“Too big of a risk,” Leon replied, shaking his head. “The highway south runs right into the highway that leads to Marfa. Not only that, but it keeps on going straight into Van Horn, which kind of defeats the purpose of diverting them. These other two target highways just keep going to the north, so they’ll either get lost in the desert, or they’ll be someone else’s problem.”

“You think we should send someone ahead to warn them?” Sparks asked, taking a deep breath. “Just in case people are there?”

Leon tilted his head back and forth. “I think with our track record of meeting new people, that would be a risky venture,” he admitted. “Still, if we have enough support from Rodriguez and the Cartel, it could be worthwhile.”

There was a knock at the door, and then it opened.

“Hello?” Clara called. “Ethel?”

“You come on it, sweetie, and have a seat,” the old woman trilled as she emerged from the kitchen. “Dinner will be ready in just a minute!” She spotted Jeff behind her and smiled. “And don’t you worry, big boy, I made enough for you, too.”

He blinked at her in confusion and then smiled. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“It go okay in Marfa?” Rogers asked, standing up to address Clara.

“Yeah, it took a little convincing, but they took everybody in,” she replied. “All they ask is that we don’t let the Cartel know that they are there, and we give them a heads up with the timetable for everything.”

“Doesn’t seem too unreasonable,” Rogers agreed.

“All right now,” Ethel said firmly as she entered the dining room carrying a tray of steaming hot biscuits. “Let’s get this work cleared away. Enough has been done for one day.”

Sparks and Leon cleared away the maps and set them on the side table. Rogers and Rufus leaned over their inventory again, and Ethel waved an oven mitt at them.

“Detective,” she snapped. “I’m not gonna ask you again.”

Rogers chuckled and snatched the book from Rufus, setting it on the table. “We’d better listen to her,” he said.

“Yeah, she seems like someone we’d want to stay on the good side of,” Rufus said.

“Good to see you retained some intelligence in your old age there, mister,” Ethel said primly. “Now you boys get over here and get a plate.” She disappeared into the kitchen as everyone gathered around the large table, coming back out with two large serving dishes of vegetables.

A moment later, she reappeared with a gigantic casserole dish, and set it down in the middle. She took a seat at the head of the table as everyone piled up their plates and folded her hands in front of her.

“It warms my heart to see everyone at this table tonight,” she said, smiling widely. “Old friends and new alike, enjoying a peaceful evening together. Reminds me of all the kinds of Sunday evenings my family would have over the years. Events like these have been few and far between of late, and I fear as though they are going to be even rarer in the weeks ahead.”

“So for the rest of the night, we aren’t thinking about tomorrow, or the day after that. We are only thinking of today, enjoying each other’s company. We’re going to tell stories of our lives before, we’re going to laugh until we cry, and if anybody mentions the last month, they’re really going to cry once I’m done with them.”

There was laughter around, and she raised her chin.

“Thank you all for being here with me this evening,” she said. “Now dig in, before it gets cold. I worked hard on this.”

More chuckling, and then everyone dug into their meals, enjoying the home cooking from the wonderful friendly woman.

The group ate together, and sat around the table for hours, swapping stories of life before the apocalypse. Sparks impressed the group by telling them about the time she defeated the Dudek Brothers for the championship belt, even reenacting the cowbell takedown for an overly excited Rufus.

Leon, Rufus, and Rogers spun tales of their times in their respective services. Jeff even told the story of how he got the scar on his back from a hardcore punk show.

For a brief moment in time, everything seemed normal.

Eventually, Leon disappeared, emerging from the kitchen with a tray of glasses and a brown bag. “Can I have everyone’s attention?” he asked, and everyone stopped chattering to look up at him. “Now, I know Ethel said we aren’t allowed to talk about the present, but I’m hoping she’ll allow a quick exception,” he said, throwing her an apologetic look. “Now we have risked life and limb over the last month, not only to survive, but to secure high quality tequila for one Tiago Rivas.”

There was some playful boooing from the table, and he held up his hands to calm them down.

“Those missions are thankfully at an end,” he continued, “because no matter the outcome of this week, either Tiago won’t be a problem for us, or we won’t be around to care. So, with that in mind, I’d like to propose a toast.” He reached into the bag and pulled out one of the expensive bottles of tequila, showing it off.

He popped it open to cheers and started pouring glasses, sending them down the table from hand to hand.

“I figure it’s time to see what all the fuss is about this stuff, don’t you?” he asked, and everyone raised their glasses. “To us,” he declared.

“To Reed,” Clara added.

“To Mathis,” Trenton said.

Rogers took a deep breath. “To our friends who aren’t with us right now,” he said.

Everyone raised their glasses higher, and Ethel smacked a hand on the table. “And fuck Tiago Rivas!” she declared.

Everyone laughed and cheered, clinking glasses and then downing the tasty shots.

One last big gesture of fun and happiness before the biggest battle for their lives would begin.

END

PART 2

BY DEREK SLATON

© 2021

CHAPTER ONE

The sun rose over the sleepy community of Fabens to the east of El Paso. The night guards were still on watch near the interstate, keeping an eye out for Rodriguez and the rest of the cartel reinforcements.

To the south of the command center, at the bridges over the large drainage ditch, some of the lesser-abled citizens kept busy installing obstacles along the edge. Broom handles filed down into spikes were driven into the south bank of the ditch. Couches, chairs, and other household furniture were put up like a giant outdoor living room display.

Even as they moved the items there, they knew it wouldn’t do much to step the tide of ghouls headed their way, but even buying precious minutes could mean the difference between life and death.

Across town, Leon stepped out of his house, stretching on the front porch and looking around, surveying the work that had gone on throughout the night. As he did, Rogers walked across the yard from his house.

“You ready for a big day?” the detective asked, hooking a thumb into his belt.

Leon nodded. “Let’s hope it’s big,” he replied. “If we’re going to survive this, Rodriguez needs to come through in a big way.”

Rogers motioned to the civilians that had worked through the night on the barricades. “Even if he doesn’t, at least we have everyone in town on the same page,” he pointed out.

Leon shook his head. “With what’s coming our way, this feels more like busywork to keep them distracted than an actual defense plan,” he admitted.

“Guess I have to find a new nickname for you,” the detective drawled, “because Captain Optimism just isn't going to cut it.”

Leon shrugged. “Gave up optimism years ago,” he said. “Bad for the health. I’ve found my body reacts better to cynicism and whiskey.”

Rogers chuckled. “I knew we were kindred spirits from the moment we met,” he declared.

The two men shared a laugh, and immediately after, an air horn went off in the distance. It was the interstate watch, signalling the arrival of vehicles.

“Rodriguez isn’t messing around,” Leon murmured.

Rogers nodded. “Guess that’s my cue to go into hiding,” he said with a deep sigh. “I’ll be at the school. A couple of the people in town used to do construction, so they set me up with a hideaway spot, built into the corner of the gym. Even has a hidden door to get in so if the Cartel comes in there, they won’t give it a second look.”

“Well, you enjoy your much deserved vacation while I do the heavy lifting,” Leon drawled playfully.

The detective laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “You know I will,” he promised. “Thankfully, one of the townsfolk is an avid reader, so I have a stack of things to work through.”

“I expect book reports when you get out,” Leon said, pointing a finger at him.

Rogers grinned and grabbed his hand, pulling him in for a bro hug. “You be safe,” he said sincerely. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

Leon nodded as he watched his friend head off towards the school. As he turned back around, the air horn went off again, prompting him to pick up the pace towards the command center.

Soon, Sparks, Rufus, Jeff, Clara, and Trenton emerged from their respective houses to join him. Everyone carried weapons and an equipment bag. Most of them were wide-eyed, but seemed ready to go, save for Rufus who looked disheveled, still buttoning up his flannel shirt.

“That’s a hell of an alarm clock you got there,” he said hoarsely.

Leon shot him a lopsided smile. “Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep there, buddy.”

Rufus chuckled. “Well, I’m not the one who has to look at my ugly mug all day, so if you can’t handle it, make sure to install a snooze button on that alarm.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Leon quipped.

The group came up the road, making the turn down a side street so that the command center was within view. As they walked, they spotted two trucks and two SUVs parked out front, with Rodriguez and a handful of Cartel members standing about.

Leon’s brow furrowed. “Man, this better be the first wave of reinforcements,” he said loudly, “because if not, we’re fucked.”

The rest of the group remained silent, the stark reality setting in. A couple dozen people fighting against a horde of a million zombies was destined to fail.

As they grew closer, their worst fears were realized. There were only four vehicles from the Cartel.

Leon stalked up to Rodriguez. “Where’s everybody else?” he demanded.

“Tiago has them fortifying El Paso,” the tall man replied.

Leon let out a deep whoosh of breath, looking around at the half-dozen men outside of the vehicles. “So there’s what, a dozen of you?” he asked, throwing up his hands. “How the hell are we supposed to fight off the horde and fortify this town with this little support?”

Rodriguez shook his head, jaw clenched. “Tiago is only interested in buying time, not saving your town,” he replied, remaining stoic, but from what Leon could see, his eyes were apologetic. “Every man here has been given orders to focus on the horde and nothing more.”

Leon growled, grinding his teeth together.

“Still,” Rodriguez cut in, raising a hand, “he left me in charge of this outing, so if you desperately need some extra hands, I can spare a few men for a short time.”

Leon’s shoulders relaxed a touch and nodded at the man. He knew that Rodriguez was in the toughest position of all, having to play both sides.

Angel Rivas stepped out of the last vehicle in line and waltzed up to the group. “You should be thankful you’re getting even this much support,” he drawled, spreading his arms and then straightening his expensive jacket.

Leon glared at him, side-glancing Clara next to him, who was seething at the man who had scarred her.

“If you were smart, you’d be dropping to your knees and thanking the lord above for my presence,” Angel continued, raising his smug chin. “I can blow things up better than anybody in the Cartel, so just by me being here, you might have an extra few hours of existence before you are overrun.” His eyes locked onto Clara, and he licked his lips, leering at her. “Oh, will wonders never cease,” he said. “My special little princess. If you want to drop to your knees, I have another job for you other than praying.”

She clenched her fists and lunged for him. “You motherfucker—” 

Rodriguez caught her around the waist and swung her back, away from being killed by the Cartel members.

Angel simply laughed, wagging a finger at her. “So feisty,” he said, “I like it when they’re feisty.”

Clara shrieked, “I will rip your dick off you—”

“Enough!” Rodriguez barked, shoving her back behind Leon.

She continued to seethe, but stood with her friends despite the fire in her eyes.

“Oh, and she takes direction,” Angel continued, winking at her. “I can have fun with that.”

Rodriguez glared at him. “Get to work on those bombs, now,” he snapped.

“You watch your tone,” Angel declared, puffing out his chest.

Rodriguez stepped towards him, staring coldly down at the younger Rivas. “You’re going to do as you’re told, or you’re going to pay the price,” he snarled. “You may be a daddy’s boy, but out here, you’re under my command. Now get to work!”

Angel hissed at him, but turned on his heel and stormed away in a huff towards the back of the rearmost truck.

Rodriguez turned back to the group, and stepped up to Clara, leaning in and speaking in a low voice so that his men couldn’t hear. “I understand that man hurt you, yes?” he asked softly.

She wasn’t paying attention, simply staring daggers at Angel’s retreating back. Rodriguez snapped his fingers in front of her face, and she startled, blinking up at him.

“That man hurt you, yes?” he repeated quietly.

Clara focused on him and nodded, letting out a deep breath. “Yes, he did.” She pulled her t-shirt out far enough so that he could see the large scar carved into her breast. “He did that after kidnapping my friend, who I never saw again.”

He nodded. “You know what is headed our way, don’t you?” he asked.

She clenched her jaw. “Yes, I do.”

“That man… that man has skills that we can use,” he said, inclining his head towards Angel. “Skills that may very well be the difference between this town surviving or not. So you understand that we need him, don’t you?”

Clara looked at Sparks next to her, and the officer gave her arm a reassuring squeeze.

“Yes,” the younger woman finally said. “I understand.”

Rodriguez leaned closer. “But remember,” he whispered, “we won’t always need him.” He gave her a wink before backing up and straightening up.

Clara stifled a smile.

“So, what’s the plan?” Rodriguez asked loudly, crossing his arms.

Leon finally relaxed his arms, shifting his weight. “Our current projections have the front edge of the horde reaching the outskirts of Fort Stockton this evening after the sun goes down,” he explained. “This is going to be problematic as we’re going to have to divert them at night. We don’t really have much of a choice, though.”

“Do you have plans to slow them down?” Rodriguez asked.

Leon nodded. “We have four vehicles rigged to explode on a timer,” he replied. “If we can get them to the horde, they can plow through them before detonating. We also have flamethrowers ready to go, which should slow them down as well. These aren’t long term solutions, but if we play our cards right, it could buy us hours.”

“We will take what we can get,” Rodriguez replied. “How do you propose we move forward?”

Leon turned his head. “Trenton, you have the most dangerous job today,” he said. “What do you need?”

The younger man took a deep breath. “I need a driver at a minimum,” he replied. “Could use someone who knows their way around a drone, too. I need to find a good spot just off of the highway to lay low once I pull some off of the main group.”

Rodriguez whistled and pointed to two men, waving them over. “Javier, Carlos, help this young man with whatever he needs,” he instructed. “Take one of the SUVs, there is a drone in the back of both.”

The men nodded, and Javier gave Trenton a wave.

“We’re ready whenever you are, man,” he said.

Trenton glanced at Leon. “Unless you need me for something, we should get going.”

“Hold up a sec,” the older man said, turning to look at Rufus. “How long does it take you to rig a car?”

Rufus shrugged. “Ten, maybe fifteen minutes,” he replied.

“Take the back roads to the east side of Fort Stockton,” Leon said to Trenton. “Take a car and leave it a mile short of the interstate exit. That way we’ll have another arrow in our quiver.”

Rodriguez snapped his fingers. “Javier, go with the kid and get a car of your own,” he instructed. “If we’re going up that far, we might as well make it worth our while.”

Javier nodded and joined Trenton. They shook hands and then introduced themselves as Trenton led him to the lot behind the command center where their car stash was.

“Meet us by the bridge and we’ll head out,” the younger man called over his shoulder at Carlos, who nodded and then hopped back into his SUV, speeding off.

“What else needs to be done for Fort Stockton?” Rodriguez asked.

Leon raised his chin. “We’re planning on doing another diversion group to the north of town on the highway,” he explained. “So we need a team to head up there and make sure the coast is clear. The satellite showed little, but if they’re spread out, it could be a nasty surprise.”

“Why don’t we send the young lady there to handle that?” Rodriguez asked.

Clara bristled. “Don’t patronize me,” she snapped, “I’m capable.”

“I understand that,” Rodriguez replied, keeping his tone level, “but I also think it could do you some good to get away from certain people for a while, and he’s going to be on the interstate detail.”

She pursed her lips, but nodded.

“Come on, I’ll go with you,” Jeff drawled, poking her in the shoulder. “I found a car with a working CD player in it. So we can rock out while we scout.” He raised his forefinger and pinky finger in the classic devil-horns sign.

Clara raised an eyebrow. “Define rocking out?” she asked.

“Judas Priest Screaming for Vengeance cranked to eleven?” He shrugged.

She nodded. “Okay, I’m in,” she said immediately, “lead the way.”

They grabbed their gear and headed towards the parking lot.

“Make sure you have your radios,” Leon called, and Jeff gave him a thumbs up over his shoulder as they left.

“I guess that leaves the rest of us tasked with slowing down the horde,” Rodriguez said. “Sound about right?”

Leon nodded. “Yep,” he replied. “I’ll stay here and keep an eye on the satellite. I have a runner ready to go who will ride up and provide info if something out of the ordinary happens.”

“Regardless of how much we are able to slow them down,” Rodriguez said, taking a deep breath, “we are going to rendezvous on the east side of town an hour before sundown. If you can send your runner up then with the current information, that would be helpful.”

Leon nodded again. “Consider it done.”

“Everybody mount up!” Rodriguez yelled, rolling his hand above his head. “We’re on the move.”

Leon turned to Sparks and Rufus, keeping his voice low. “You be careful out there,” he murmured. “And if you see an opportunity to get close to Rodriguez, away from everyone else, do it. He may have information to pass along.”

“You got it,” Sparks replied with a sharp nod.

“Come on girl,” Rufus said, offering her his elbow, “we got a long day ahead of us.”

She smirked and slipped her arm into his, and they headed off towards the parking lot behind the command center.

Leon stood along in front, watching everyone drive away. After a few moments of relative peace, he turned around at the sound of the front door of the command center opening.

Ethel popped her head out. “How are we looking?” she asked.

“Looking like a long day,” he admitted.

“Well come in and get comfy,” she replied with a warm smile. “I got some breakfast for you.”

Leon shook his head, grinning back at her. “Not sure what I’d do without you, Ethel,” he said, spreading his arms.

“My guess is you’d starve,” she quipped.

He chuckled as he headed inside. “Hard to argue with that.”

CHAPTER TWO

Eight vehicles lined the side of the road on the highway just before the I-10 interstate. Rufus and Sparks were the last to arrive, pulling up and seeing numerous Cartel members hanging about.

Rodriguez stood alone to greet them as they got out of the vehicle. “We were beginning to worry about you,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, sorry,” Rufus replied, “front end was a little wonky so we didn’t want to push it too hard.”

The taller man nodded. “Understandable,” he said. “Does it need to be fixed?”

“Nah, as long as we can hitch a ride with you back to town, I’ll just rig it to blow,” Rufus replied, waving him off.

“We have plenty of room,” Rodriguez assured them.

Sparks cocked her head. “So what’s the plan?”

“Angel is busy checking the explosives on the cars,” Rodriguez replied, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

“I’ve already done that,” Rufus replied, crossing his arms.

Rodriguez shrugged. “He was very insistent that he get to do it,” he replied with a sigh. “Which, to be frank, is fine by me as it shuts him up. I’m sure you do fine work.”

Rufus smirked. “With management skills like that, it’s easy to see why you’re the number two,” he drawled.

“Yes, with him half of my decisions are based on how big of a headache I want to deal with that day,” Rodriguez admitted.

“How long until he has it ready to go?” Sparks asked.

Rodriguez shrugged. “He said half an hour,” he replied, tilting his head back and forth, “which really means an hour.”

“Well, while they do that, why don’t we go try out the flamethrowers?” she asked. “Get a feel for how effective they’re going to be.”

Rodriguez nodded. “I’ll have one of my men drive us,” he offered.

As he walked away, Rufus took Sparks’ arm, leaning close to her ear.

“You sure about this, girl?” he whispered.

She nodded, turning back to him. “After what he said to Clara, yeah, I’m sure,” she replied quietly. “Plus, remember what Leon said.”

Rufus frowned at her, and then let out a deep breath, nodding.

“I’ll be safe, I promise,” she said, leaning forward and planting a soft kiss on his mouth.

He winked at her. “Hold on a sec,” he said, and turned, reaching into the car and pulling out a redneck rattler. “Just in case you get into a tight spot.” He handed it over, and she took it with a smirk.

“Forget jewelry,” she said, “just keep me in high explosives and I’m a happy girl.”

He grinned. “Just doing my job,” he said.

She saluted him with the rattler and sauntered off to the truck, making sure to give him a show of her sashaying behind as she left. Rodriguez stood in the bed and held out a hand to help her up into the high back. Once she settled in, she smacked the side of the vehicle and the driver punched the gas.

They picked up speed quickly as they hit the interstate, keeping quiet because the wind whipping around them would have made it impossible to talk.

Sparks leaned back, eyeing him as he stared out into the distance, stone-faced. She got comfortable for the several mile ride, only briefly reacting when they passed the exit where she’d been living for the better part of the last month.

While a part of her couldn’t help but be saddened that her little hideaway was soon to be gone, she was happy about the prospect of living in a community again. Partially because there were more people, but mostly it would be nice for her and Rufus to have their own space again.

The ride was relatively short, ending after what seemed like a matter of minutes. The truck came to a screeching halt in the middle of the road, prompting the passengers to exchange a confused glance.

“That didn’t take long,” Sparks said.

The driver shoved the back window open. “Boss?” he asked, panic in his tone.

The duo stood up and looked over the roof of the truck. Less than a mile away was the horde, still shoulder-to-shoulder across the interstate, stretching as far as the eye could see.

Sparks turned to her tentative partner, studying his stoic face as he gazed upon the mass of marching rotted flesh. She could see a flicker of fear beneath, and she raised an eyebrow.

“First time confronting the enemy?” she asked.

He took a deep breath. “I saw my share of action in the first week of the outbreak,” he replied. “The fast movers were difficult to deal with, however, I think this will be our greatest challenge by far.”

“I tend to agree with you there,” she admitted. “So, what do you say we get started?”

Rodriguez nodded and smacked the roof to get the driver’s attention. “Get us turned around and back us up to them,” he instructed. “Go slow, and I’ll let you know when to stop.”

The truck executed a slow three-point turn and started to back up. As they inched closer to the horde, Sparks and Rodriguez readied their flamethrowers.

He turned the water gun over in his hand, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve used a lot of things to hurt people over the years,” he drawled, “but a child’s water gun is a first. How does this work exactly?”

Sparks held out her hand, and he set the water gun in her palm. She reached into a bag and pulled out a stick with a ball of steel wool on the end of it. She attached it to the top of the gun and lit it, resulting in a simmering red glow, and then handed it back.

“It’s loaded with kerosene,” she explained, “so just make sure you pump it several times to build up pressure, aim it in an arc, and let her tip. Should go fifteen, twenty yards out.”

Rodriguez appraised the weapon with awe in his gaze. “Pretty ingenious,” he said.

“Wish I could take credit for it,” she replied with a chuckle.

He smacked the side of the truck a few times, prompting the driver to stop about fifty yards from the horde.

“When I give you the signal, I want you to start inching forward,” Rodriguez called over his shoulder. “Do your best to keep us at a steady pace matching theirs. Do you understand?”

“Gotcha, boss,” the driver replied.

Sparks got her weapon ready, lighting her steel wool and standing up. The scent began to waft from the horde, a pungent wall of sick rot, and she wrinkled her nose.

“How much fuel do we have?” Rodriguez asked.

She inclined her head towards the bag. “We have six of these canisters, so don’t be afraid to let loose,” she replied.

“Good to know,” he said with a nod.

The two of them stood there, waiting patiently for the horde to close the gap. When they got within ten yards, Rodriguez let out a whistle, prompting the driver to start inching along. He took aim, but stopped before pulling the trigger.

“My apologies,” he said, “where are my manners?” He gestured with a flourish towards the zombies. “Ladies first.”

Sparks inclined her head, bending her knees in a faux curtsey. “Thank you,” she said. “I do appreciate a gentleman.”

She pumped her weapon a few times before taking aim. As she pulled the trigger, a powerful stream of flaming liquid squirted out, flying about twenty yards away from the truck. The bulk of the liquid landed on zombies in a straight line, sticking to their clothes and catching fire.

Some of the kerosene that didn’t reach the horde splashed on the ground and continued to burn, staying lit long enough for the zombies to catch up. While some footsteps put out the flames, others soon had flaming pants.

It took several moments for the fire to spread, but soon, a few dozen creatures were ablaze. One by one, they dropped to the ground, creating a small empty patch in the middle of the giant mass that tripped up some ghouls.

“This is more effective than I thought it was going to be,” Rodriguez admitted.

Sparks nodded. “Same here,” she agreed. “Why don’t you give it a go?”

He stepped up and primed his water gun before unleashing a fiery blast. Instead of shooting in a straight line, he moved his stream from side to side, creating a bit of a wave effect on the horde. Some flames crept up, eventually engulfing several dozen, which created more stumbling as they fell down.

“Oh, I like your strategy better,” Sparks said. “I’ll do that next time.”

The truck crept along as the two of them took turns splashing the ghouls with flaming liquid. While they weren’t taking out a ton of them, they were slowing the march, even if it was minimal. Every second counted.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” she asked.

He raised an eyebrow. “Only if you permit me to do the same,” he replied.

“Fair enough,” she agreed.

“Then by all means,” he replied, waving for her to continue. “What would you like to know?”

Sparks took a deep breath. “I heard what you said to Clara, and Leon has told me what you have done for the community,” she began. “Knowing that, it seems quite strange that you are second in command of the Cartel. I guess my question is… what gives?”

Rodriguez paused and then turned to look over his shoulder. “Turn on music and roll up your windows,” he said to the driver. “I’ll bang on the side if you need to speed up.”

The driver didn’t comment, simply complied.

Once music thumped from the cab, Rodriguez’ shoulders relaxed. “Apologies, some things are not for his ears,” he said. “Your limited interactions with me may have given you a skewed view of who I am. I have risen up the ranks to be the right hand man of one of the most vicious Cartel bosses in the land. Let me assure you that one does not get into this position without getting their hands dirty. Extremely dirty.”

She shrugged. “It’s just confusing, that’s all,” she admitted. “You clearly have your heart in the right place, so how does a man with at least some moral center end up where you are?”

Rodriguez paused and motioned for Sparks to hand him another canister of fuel so they could both reload. “I’m in the position I’m in because of my family,” he said as he clicked the fuel into place. “We lived in a very poor and violent town with few opportunities outside of joining the Cartel or being a dirt poor farmer. My father, god rest his soul, decided on the latter option. He managed to provide for me, my brother and mother, until he was gunned down by a gang wanting to send a message after I chased them away from trying to extort him for his crops. Upon hearing this, Tiago Rivas came to speak to me directly, knowing that I had some prior run-ins with this particular gang, most of which ended with them in the hospital. He said if I agreed, that he would take care of my family.”

Sparks nodded thoughtfully. “So, you sold your soul for the sake of your family,” she replied as she sprayed another long stream of napalm onto the horde. “I can respect that. Was he true to his word?”

“Oh, very much so,” Rodriguez replied, nodding. “You don’t last long as a leader if you don’t honor your promises. He moved my mother out of that town and into a safe neighborhood in Mexico City.”

“And you, brother?” she asked.

He sighed. “From the time my brother was old enough to walk, he had dreams of being a Luchador,” he said. “We used to spend every weekend watching El Santo on TV beating down everyone in his path, and my brother just couldn’t get enough of it. Tiago made sure his dream came true, sending him to the best wrestling school in Mexico. For the past five years, he’s been wrestling professionally as the Blue Diablo.”

“The Blue Diablo, huh?” Sparks asked, cocking a brow. “Small world. He was on a couple of the cards I did early in my career, but I never got to work with him. Didn’t get to see him in the ring all that much, but I remember him as being a high flier.”

Rodriguez stopped firing his weapon, turning to blink at her in shock. “Forgive me,” he said slowly, shaking his head, “but I was under the impression that you were a police officer?”

“Can’t a girl multitask?” she asked with a smirk.

He laughed and then resumed firing. “You are quite right, my apologies,” he said.

“No need to apologize,” Sparks assured him. “It was a fun way for me to blow off steam after having to spend fifty hours a week in a macho male dominated industry. I can’t tell you how therapeutic it was after a full week of being passed over for promotions because I was a woman to step into the ring and be treated as an equal as I beat the hell out of the men.”

Rodriguez gaped at her again. “You wrestled men?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she replied with a sly grin. “I wasn’t quite the high flier like your brother was, but I could hold my own. I was even the championship belt holder of my promotion before the world went to hell.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “You intrigue me, Sparks,” he said. “I like that.”

She stepped up beside him and opened fire on the horde once again, splashing another few dozen ghouls with flaming liquid. All told, there were several hundred zombies either on fire or in various stages of smoldering on the ground, creating a decent gap between them and the zombies on the other side of the interstate.

“You think we should start working on that side?” she asked, inclining her head towards it.

Rodriguez shook his head. “No, we’ll let the cars deal with that side,” he said. “It’ll give us a good idea of what works best.”

“Good point,” Sparks agreed, nodding.

They sprayed in silence for a few moments, before she took a deep breath.

“Can I ask you another question?” she asked.

Rodriguez nodded. “I’m an open book,” he replied.

“If Tiago Rivas has done all of these things for your family,” Sparks said slowly, “why are you betraying him now?”

He chewed his lower lip for a moment and then sighed. “Before all this began, the only people I was asked to hurt were people who were in the drug game,” he began. “People who chose this life, people who knew the risks. Sure, there was the occasional innocent that was caught in the crossfire, and I will go to my grave regretting each and every one of those lives.” He shook his head. “But something changed when we came across the border. All of a sudden, everyone was in the crosshairs, not just the sick who needed to be eliminated. Men, women, children, all were fair game. If they could be used, they were enslaved. If they couldn’t be useful, they were destroyed.” His gaze darkened. “That I am not okay with. So I made the decision to fight back, starting with a mutual friend of ours.” He touched his ear to reference Detective Rogers, whose ear he’d shot off in order to spare his life. “Speaking of mutual friends, I have information on another one.” He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the driver was still not listening to him. “He is being held in a nondescript three-story government building two blocks to the east of city hall. I am working on securing a safe house for our friends to operate out of, as well as a way in, but I have neither at the moment.”

Sparks nodded. “Thank you,” she said sincerely, “I will pass that information along.”

They shared an uneasy smile, knowing they were in dangerous territory, in more ways than one. They pumped their water guns a few more times, unleashing another torrent of flaming liquid onto the masses, pausing to watch them burn in silence.

That silence was broken by two horns bleating loudly in the distance. They turned to see two sedans sitting in the road about half a mile back. Rodriguez smacked the roof of the truck, getting the driver to turn off the music and open the back window.

“Go up to them,” he instructed.

The driver complied and picked up speed quickly as Sparks and Rodriguez sat down.

When they reached the vehicles, the latter hopped out while Sparks kept an eye on the horde.

“Are these two ready to go?” Rodriguez asked, and the closest driver nodded.

“Yes, boss,” he replied.

“Good,” Rodriguez continued, “set one up on the other side of the interstate and send it on its way.”

The driver nodded and bumbled across the grassy median, stopping in the center of the road. He quickly hopped out and attached a rope to the bottom of the steering wheel and seat, making sure it was secure so the car would stay relatively straight.

He took out his lighter and lit the fuse on the redneck rattler than Rufus had installed, which was positioned just above the gas tank for maximum effect. As soon as the fuse began to work its way through the back seat towards the bottom floorboard, the driver tossed a brick onto the gas pedal and then leapt back out of the way to avoid being run over.

The car picked up speed quickly, taking mere moments before smacking into the front edge of the horde. Bodies flew through the air from the initial impact, the tires catching on a few ghouls on the ground, causing the vehicle to get some air and crash down on even more zombies.

The car veered sideways, rolling over several times and crushing more creatures. After a few violent smacks, it came to a rest on its roof, leaving a trail of mangled corpses in its wake.

The crew waited anxiously as the fuse continued to burn, the mass of zombies swarming around the vehicle and continuing their walk as if the car wasn’t even there. Within moments of the car being swallowed up, the redneck rattler detonated.

The sound was deafening, even from nearly half a mile away, sending a giant fireball into the sky. Shrapnel shredded zombies in every direction, cutting them in half and dropping them to the ground. Several right beside the car were completely eviscerated, leaving nothing but a lake of goo.

When the smoke and debris finally settled, the group looked on, seeing a massive hole in the corpse mass about thirty yards in circumference. A few of the low level drivers let out a cheer and high fives, which Rodriguez raised a hand to shush down.

“Yes, that went better than expected,” he said loudly, “but look.”

The two drivers stopped celebrating, seeing that within seconds the massive hole had been filled, the zombies marching over their liquefied brethren like nothing had happened.

“Instead of cheering, I suggest you get back to work,” Rodriguez continued, “because we’re going to need a lot more vehicles if we’re going to stop them.”

The men quickly turned back to prepping the next car for its suicide run.

Rodriguez walked back up to the truck, leaning on the side of the bed and looking up at Sparks.

“At least the explosion was nice,” she said dryly.

He nodded thoughtfully. “We’re going to need a lot more of them, I’m afraid,” he said. “Bigger ones, too.”

“If anybody can do it, it’s Rufus,” she replied with a wistful smile.

Rodriguez took a deep breath. “What would you like to do now?”

She glanced into their bag, checking on their reserve water gun tanks. “We still have four total fuel canisters left,” she said. “I say we let that car detonate, then get back to burning them down.”

“Sounds good to me,” Rodriguez replied, and braced his foot against the large truck tire, hopping up into the bed next to her.

The two of them turned to watch the next vehicle scream down the interstate towards the mass of rotting flesh. Neither of them flinched as the car exploded.

Just another day at the office.

CHAPTER THREE

Jeff and Clara took the long way around Fort Stockton, emerging on the north side of town and finally finding the highway that led out. They stopped a mile up from the interstate and a mile east of the target highway.

Clara studied a map, trying to figure out their specific location.

“So, any clue where we are?” Jeff asked.

She traced her finger along the road. “Looks like if we go up another half mile and make a left, that it should take us to a highway.”

“Sounds good,” he replied, and hit the gas.

They drove up to an empty rural road with nothing but open space on either side, barren, inhospitable land. A few moments later he found the side street and made the turn.

“Should be about a mile and we’ll hit it,” Clara murmured.

Jeff looked around at the nothingness. “I can’t believe we’re only a few miles outside the city and there’s nothing out here,” he mused.

“Just the way it is out in west Texas,” she replied. “It’s like someone air-dropped some civilization into the middle of nowhere and kept going.”

He nodded. “Pre-apocalypse I would have hated this,” he admitted. “But now, I’m pretty okay with there being nothing around.”

As he spoke, they spotted a few zombies on the side of the road, tangled up in some barbed wire. They thrashed violently when they heard the car, trying in vain to get out of their trap.

“Those things are even out here,” Clara said, shaking her head.

“There’s about to be a whole lot more of them once the day is out,” Jeff replied.

She sighed heavily. “I still can’t wrap my head around just how many of those things are headed our way,” she said.

“Hell, I saw them and still can’t get a grip on it,” Jeff agreed.

They stopped at the next intersection, looking around.

He pointed to a highway sign. “Looks like this is it,” he said.

Clara studied the map for a moment, tracing her finger to the north. “Looks like there is an intersection about four or five miles up,” she said. “I say we hit that and call it good.”

Jeff hesitated, chewing his lip for a moment.

She furrowed her brow. “Are you okay?” she asked gently.

“Huh?” He blinked at her and then nodded. “Yeah… just… I wanted to ask about what all that business was with that Cartel creep, but as you can probably tell by looking at me, words aren’t exactly my strong suit.”

She chuckled and patted the giant skinhead on the shoulder. “It’s okay,” she said. “I mean, I’m okay, if that’s what you were worried about.”

He nodded and hit the gas, sending them towards their destination. “That’s good to know,” he replied as they drove. “I just… didn’t know if I needed to add bashing that motherfucker’s head in to my list of things to do this week.”

“Absolutely not,” she said firmly.

He swallowed hard, a little embarrassed that he’d crossed a line, and opened his mouth to apologize.

“Although,” she continued, cutting him off before he could start, “if you want to hold him down while I bash his head in, I’m okay with that.”

He laughed in relief. “You just say the word and I’ll come a running.”

“Glad to know you’re in my corner,” she said, offering him a warm smile.

“And…” he trailed off, scratching the back of his head. “Just like, so you know, if you need to talk, I’m happy to listen.”

Her smile widened. “That’s sweet of you,” she replied. “Thank you.”

He returned her smile, avoiding her direct gaze with a small blush on his cheeks.

“Slow down,” she said suddenly, snapping him back to the task at hand, “something is off.”

Jeff let off the gas, and they slowed down, coming to a stop about a quarter mile from the intersection. On the northwest corner of the road sat a small building. It didn’t look like a house, more like a single-story business of some kind that was boarded up.

The two of them looked closely, seeing half a dozen bodies scattered about the front of the building.

“Either that’s one hell of a coincidence that they all dropped dead in the same place,” Jeff drawled, “or someone has been there.”

“Or is still there,” Clara added.

He nodded. “Stay low in your seat as we approach,” he instructed, “just in case.”

She slunk down into the floorboards, and once she was secure, he inched the car up towards the structure. As he got closer, more of the intersecting street became visible, and there were multiple bodies scattered about that as well.

He slammed on the brakes just short of the crossroads when two heavily armed older people came busting out the front door of the building. It was a man and a woman, both looking in their sixties, brandishing a rifle and a shotgun.

Jeff slowly rolled down his window and popped open the door, reaching his hands out to show that they were empty. “You stay in this car,” he murmured. “If they start shooting, get behind the wheel and drive.”

“Should I avenge your death?” Clara whispered.

“If you do, get Rufus to help,” he replied. “I need an explosion in my honor.”

She nodded as he cautiously got out of the vehicle, keeping his hands visible at all times.

“Boy, you’d better just get right back in that car and head back the way you came,” the old man barked.

Jeff nodded slowly. “I’m happy to do that,” he replied, “but I need to talk to you first, sir.”

“Bullshit!” the man bellowed. “Ain’t nothin’ you can say that I’m gonna be interested in!”

Jeff narrowed his eyes. “Listen here, you old fuck,” he snarled, “if you don’t want to get eaten, you’re gonna stand there for two minutes and listen to what I have to say.”

The man blinked in shock and then glanced at the woman next to him. She nodded, and the two of them lowered their weapons.

“You got two minutes,” he said gruffly. “And don’t take another step towards us.”

Jeff motioned to the bodies everywhere. “Now, you seem to have managed okay up here,” he said. “But in a few hours, there are going to be thousands of those things coming right up the highway.”

“Bullshit, boy,” the man snapped. “We’re miles outside of that town.”

“I know, I just made the drive up here,” Jeff replied. “I also know that there are a million of those things shambling up the I-10 as we speak. And in a few hours, we’re bringing some up this way.”

The man raised his weapon, clenching his jaw.

“Pulling that trigger isn’t going to stop what’s coming,” Jeff replied, keeping his hands raised. “I’m just the scout, bubba. Now, if you wanna calm the fuck down, I can grab my map and show you exactly where we’re leading these things so you and your woman there can make the necessary preparations.” He shrugged. “Or, if you wanna be a prick and shoot me, you can become dinner. Your choice.”

The man looked at the woman, and she cocked her head.

“I’ll keep my gun handy while he talks to you,” she offered.

He threw a casual wave at Jeff. “Don’t tell me you trust him, woman!” he said.

“I think it can’t hurt to listen,” she replied coolly.

He begrudgingly slung his rifle over his shoulder, and the woman took several steps back, raising her gun.

“Well go on then, get your map,” the man said.

Jeff leaned back into the car, ducking his head to whisper to Clara. “I’m not gonna be long, and then we’re getting the hell outta here.” He grabbed the map and headed back out, walking over to the old man with his arms outstretched so he could see. “These are the two main places we’re going to pull some of those things off to,” he said, pointing to the highway they were on and the other main one coming out of town.

“How many you figure you’re gonna be bringing my way?” the man asked.

Jeff shook his head. “Honestly, this is our first attempt at this,” he admitted, “but we’re hoping to get a few thousand of them away from the main group.”

“You ain’t really giving me a whole lotta options on where to go,” the man growled. “Pretty sure you’re aware that there ain’t much around these parts.”

Jeff looked past him at the boarded up structure. “How sturdy is this building?” he asked.

“Strong as an ox,” the old man replied, puffing out his chest. “Cinder block frame with a wooden exterior. Would take a hell of a force to knock it down.”

Jeff nodded. “Now, I don’t know a lot about these things,” he admitted, “but I do know they’re pretty stupid. Once they get moving in one direction, they’ll keep going that way until they have a reason not to. If you and your old lady here keep quiet, you might just be able to ride it out.”

“Hell, I might give it a shot just to see what life is like with her being quiet for a chance,” the man quipped.

“I will shoot you where you stand and dance on your corpse, you miserable bastard,” she called.

Jeff chuckled and shook his head. “Guessing you two don’t entertain often,” he said.

“In case you didn’t notice, youngster,” the woman barked, “this shotgun is double-barrelled. I’d watch your tone.”

He raised his palms in an apology.

“I appreciate you risking your behind comin’ up here to give us a heads up,” the old man said, eyes sincere. “I think we’re gonna take our chances and ride this thing out, unless you know of someplace safe we can go.”

“I only know of three places where people are,” Jeff admitted, holding up his hand to count them off on his fingers. “One threatens to shoot anybody who approaches them, one has been taken over by a drug Cartel, and the other is caught between the Cartel and the marching horde of death. If I wasn’t afraid of your wife there, I’d be asking to hang out here for a few days.”

The old man chuckled. “I think you might be the safe one, here.”

Jeff folded up the map and smiled, extending his hand. “You two be safe tonight,” he said. “If I’m still here in a week or so, I’ll come up and check on you.”

“I appreciate it,” the man replied, shaking his hand with a firm grip. “You be safe out there.”

Jeff nodded and gave a playful wave to the old woman, who just grunted in reply. He got back in the car, quickly started it up and threw it in reverse, doing a burnout to head back the way they came.

Clara finally slithered back up into her seat. “They seem fun,” she quipped.

“Pretty sure that old guy was one bad joke away from catching a slug in the back of the head,” Jeff replied, shaking his head.

She shrugged with a sly grin. “From the sounds of it, that might be preferable to being cooped up with that old woman.”

“Let’s promise to never be like them,” he joked.

“Are you talking about being cranky or old?” Clara asked with a laugh. “Because I’m hardly the former, and I’ll be shocked if we make it to the latter.”

Jeff barked a laugh. “Nothing like a little optimism to brighten up my day.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Carlos pulled the SUV up to a stop at the fringe southern edge of town, about twenty yards away from the nearest building. In the distance were several dozen zombies milling about on the street and in parking lots, completely unaware of their presence.

Javier was in the passenger seat, with Trenton in the back. The former looked out towards the ghouls, keeping a close eye on them, while Trenton studied a map of the area to pinpoint their exact spot.

“Okay, we’re a little bit to the east of the center of town,” he declared, “which is good, because it isn’t as developed over here.”

Javier nodded. “So, how do you want to do this, man?” he asked.

“Let’s get the drone out and do a flyover of the area between here and the highway,” Trenton replied. “Just make sure to keep it on the far east side of town.”

“Why’s that?” Javier asked.

The younger man shook his head. “Because we don’t want to get the few thousand of those things near the center of town agitated,” he explained. “Then they’ll be heading our way.”

“Okay, east side it is,” Javier replied, and got out of the car.

Trenton followed, and they got the drone prepped. Within a few minutes, Javier fired it up and took off. It was a large commercial grade drone with a high resolution camera. The view screen on the controls was large enough for both of them to see it clearly.

“I’d get it pretty high and zoom in,” Trenton murmured. “Should go a long way towards dispersing the noise.”

Javier nodded and did so, rising the drone a few hundred feet in the air, and zooming in with the camera so they could see a full block of space.

“You’re the one doing this suicide run,” he said. “So tell me what you’re looking for.”

Trenton took a deep breath. “My plan is to draw as many of those things onto the highway as possible, put some distance between us, and set it up for the vehicle to keep moving forward,” he explained. “I’m going to take up shelter while they pass.”

“We’re less than a half a mile from the highway,” Javier said, raising an eyebrow. “Why not just make a run for it back to here and we’ll pick you up?”

Trenton pointed to the viewscreen at all of the moving figures on the roads. “Because of that,” he said. “The roads are thick with those things, so pushing through them is unlikely.”

Javier zoomed in on a sporting goods store. “You could always go here and get you a crash helmet and some pads,” he suggested. “Just lower your head and run through them.”

Trenton chuckled. “As much as I love football, I’m not exactly built for it,” he admitted.

His tentative partner cracked a smile and moved the drone towards the highway. As it flew, they spotted a two-story building three blocks south that was a standalone structure.

“Can you fly around that one?” Trenton asked, and his partner complied, maneuvering the drone around so that the camera could get a good look at the building.

As it circled around, they could see bars on the windows and front doors. The sign out front read Michelle’s Patisserie.

“What the hell is a Patisserie?” Javier asked.

Trenton shrugged. “Some French word, but pretty sure that’s a cake shop.”

“I could go for some cake,” his partner moaned.

“So far this is looking like the best option,” Trenton replied with a smirk, “so I can pick you up something if you like.”

Javier nodded, though he seemed hesitant. Despite their common enemy, both men knew there was intense pressure between them, and Javier wasn’t so naïve to think that Trenton viewed him as anything other than one of the bad guys.

He continued to fly, circling the building to look for a way in. “I don’t see a way inside,” he murmured.

Trenton leaned over the screen and then pointed to a hatch on the roof. “There it is right there,” he said. “We get in from the top. If there isn’t a visible entry point on the outside, it means it’s likely safe inside.”

“How you getting up there, though?” Javer asked.

The younger man whirled a finger in the air. “Fly around to the back,” he instructed.

Javier did so, and zoomed in on the back alley, which was wide enough for two cars to go through side by side. About halfway down was a ladder hanging several feet off of the ground, as well as a dozen or so zombies.

“That ladder will get me up there,” Trenton declared. “Then all I have to do is sit back and eat cake until the threat passes.”

Javer shook his head immediately. “You’re not getting up there alone,” he insisted.

“This ain’t my first rodeo,” Trenton argued. “I’ll get up there just fine.”

“I respect the confidence,” his unlikely partner shot back, “but I think I should come with you.”

Trenton shook his head. This guy is in the Cartel. He’d have no qualms about feeding me to the zombies if he got the chance.

Javier sighed. “Look, I’m no fool,” he said gently. “I realize you see me as your enemy. And who knows, maybe I am. But not this week. There are more important things this week.”

“That’s a nice sentiment, but do you actually believe that?” Trenton asked, cocking a brow. “Your boss views me as expendable, so why should I believe you see me in any other way?”

Javier reached into his back pocket, pulling out a worn photograph of a little girl. “This is my little girl, Rosa,” he said, holding it up forcefully, making sure that Trenton could get a good look at it. “She’s four, and currently in El Paso. If we don’t slow these things down and give both our communities time to prepare, we all lose. There aren’t many of us out here confronting this problem, and quite frankly if you have the balls to want to make this run yourself, then you’re someone that needs to be around for the long haul. You have a better chance at succeeding if you have my help, and you know it.”

Trenton eyed him warily, but he knew the man was right. His chances of survival would go way up with someone fighting alongside him. He nodded reluctantly.

“Okay, you can come with me,” he said, and then raised a hand. “But just so we’re clear, you’re coming with me, not the other way around. I’ve been making runs like this for weeks, so you follow my lead. You good with that?”

Javier nodded, extending his hand to shake. Trenton stared at it for a moment, and then shook, taking a deep breath.

“Well, now that that’s out of the way, let’s figure out our best path through,” he prompted, and they turned back to the screen.

Javier flew it around, moving it over the highway to look back towards the target building. They scanned the area before the younger man pointed out a building a block south of the road.

“Zoom in there,” he said.

As the camera focused, the building appeared as though it had been burned out from a massive fire. The front windows and door had been broken, the roof mostly caved in, and large metal displays were melted everywhere and left to rot.

“Doesn’t look very secure to me,” Javier said dryly.

Trenton nodded. “True, but it’s wide open, and filled with things to trip those ghouls up,” he said.

His partner’s eyes widened, and he nodded slowly as he caught the idea. “I see what you’re going for,” he said. “It’s probably that we’re going to have company when we’re making our run.”

“And cutting through there should buy us some time,” Trenton added.

Javier moved the camera to the back of the building, which was two blocks away from the target. There was a chain-link fence about eight feet high that led into a parking lot. About half a dozen zombies roamed about the lot, forever trapped inside.

“What about going over the fence?” Javier asked.

Trenton stared at it for a moment. “Depends,” he mused. “Can you handle yourself in a fight with those things?”

Javier smirked, reaching down to his boot and pulling out a machete. “I think I can manage,” he declared.

“Looks like we have our path, then,” his partner replied with a firm nod.

Carlos rolled down the window from the front seat of the SUV, poking his head out. “Boss wants us back at the meetup spot,” he called. “Or do you need more time?”

“I’m good if you are,” Trenton said.

Javier nodded and turned to Carlos. “Tell him we’re on the way,” he instructed, and then piloted the drone back so they could load up.

As it flew in their direction and got lower to the ground, a few zombies several blocks up got a look at it and wandered into the street.

Trenton looked towards them, but concerned since they were far enough away for them to get going without incident. As the drone landed, Javier grabbed it and then glanced at the approaching zombies.

“Doesn’t take a lot to get them interested, does it?” he asked.

Trenton shook his head. “Let’s hope it stays that way, because we need to make a lot of things disappear.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Carlos drove down a back road leading to the highway. It was more of a dirt bike trail than an actual road, so everyone inside bounced around. After several minutes of bumpy driving, they came up to the highway just south of the meeting spot.

He made the turn, and they drove up, seeing one of the Cartel members standing behind the caravan of vehicles with a charcoal grill set up, flipping over tortillas and portioning them between several small pans.

“Wasn’t aware we were grilling out today,” Trenton muttered.

Javier shrugged. “Well, we have the means and the time, so might as well take advantage of it,” he replied.

“Can’t argue with that,” Trenton admitted.

Carlos parked the SUV and the three of them got out, walking over to the rest of the group. Rodriguez headed over once he noticed they had arrived.

“Trenton, are you prepared?” he asked.

“Yeah, Javier and I know what we’re doing,” Trenton replied with a nod.

Rodriguez cocked his head, regarding the other Cartel member. “Javier?” he asked.

The man in question shrugged. “You know how careless these Americans are,” he joked. “Figured I would tag along to make sure he doesn’t get himself eaten.”

Rodriguez nodded appreciatively and patted him on the shoulder to show him he was impressed by him stepping up. “You have an hour before they reach the interchange,” he said. “So eat up, get prepared. Take whatever you need from the supply truck.”

As the duo walked away, Angel appeared with a few others flanking him. “My job’s done, I’m going home,” he declared.

Rodriguez glared at him and then jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Fine, get out of here,” he snapped. “Just be ready to work in the morning.”

Angel rolled his eyes as he sauntered away. He led his little trio towards a vehicle, close to where Jeff and Clara were having a bite to eat. The younger Rivas smirked and turned towards them, leering at the young woman.

“I’ll see you soon, princess,” he drawled, throwing her a wink and an air kiss.

Jeff grinned. “Looking forward to it, cupcake,” he said loudly. “Just know I’m hung like a horse and not a fan of lube, so you might not enjoy it as much as you think you will.” He gave the horrified-looking Cartel boss the same kind of smarmy wink and kiss he’d doled out.

Angel growled and made to lunge forward, but his lackeys held him back. “You’re on my list!” he screamed, shaking off his men and pointing at Jeff.

“I’m honored,” the skinhead drawled, rolling his eyes.

Angel threw another glare over his shoulder as his men shoved him into his car before they sped off towards El Paso.

Clara gave her friend a sheepish look. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

His face sobered when he realized how rattled she looked, and he leaned forward. “Hey, just in case you were concerned about what I just said,” he began in a low, serious tone, “let me put your mind at ease. I am a fan of lube.”

Clara spit out her mouthful of taco, bursting into laughter. “That…” she said as she regained her composure, “that is good to know.”

Sparks and Rufus grabbed some food from the grill master, inspecting it.

“Three kinds of beans, some mystery meat, and jalapenos,” Rufus said. “I’ve certainly eaten worse. Just a shame there’s no cheese.”

The grillmaster didn’t say anything, but raised a finger at him. He walked away to the trunk of a nearby car, popping it open and reaching into a styrofoam cooler. He pulled out the smallest plastic bag of cheese they’d ever seen and tossed it over.

“Enjoy, gringo,” he said thickly as Rufus snatched it out of the air.

The old man chuckled and gave him a nod, and Sparks led him over to sit with Clara and Jeff.

“What did y’all find up north?” Sparks asked.

Jeff swallowed his mouthful and raised his chin. “Couple of gun happy old timers about five miles outside of town, but that was about it,” he replied.

“They evacuate?” Rufus asked as he took a seat.

“No, they’re staying put,” Jeff replied, shaking his head. “They’re in a secure building, so I think they’ll be okay. I told them if we survive this, I’ll go check on them next week.”

Clara licked some grease off of one of her fingers and turned to Sparks. “So how did it go on the interstate?”

“We maybe dropped a thousand of them,” came the reply. “But between burning and blowing them up, I think we may have bought a half hour or so.”

Jeff rolled his eyes. “Oh good, so by my calculation we just need a hundred and eighty-seven thousand cars to completely eliminate them.”

“Unfortunately, we have six days,” Rufus said, “not six months.”

“If we make it through this, we really need to stock up on explosive cars in case this happens again,” Jeff declared. “Just sayin’.”

Rufus grinned. “You know me, I’ll never turn down an opportunity to blow shit up,” he said.

“When are we heading up to the interstate to divert what we can?” Clara asked.

Sparks swallowed a mouthful of food. “Rufus and I are heading out in a few minutes,” she explained, “but I need you two to head back to town.”

“Why?” Jeff asked, blinking at her. “Wouldn’t we be useful?”

“You would be, but I need you to deliver a message to our hidden friends,” she said quietly. She looked around, making sure that nobody was within earshot before leaning in. “Tell them that the target is a three-story building two blocks east of city hall. Don’t have a way in yet, but it is being worked on.”

Clara nodded. “I can handle it,” she said, turning to Jeff, “if you want to stay and help out here.”

“Nah, you’re not going anywhere by yourself as long as that rapey-eyed asshole is roaming free,” Jeff declared, and a small smile broke out on her face.

Rufus raised a hand. “Now, he may look like a giant bald teddy bear,” he declared, “but let me assure you that he can throw down when necessary.”

“Uh, thanks I guess?” Jeff replied, raising an eyebrow.

Rufus winked at him. “Just trying to be a good wingman,” he said, smacking Jeff on the arm as he walked away to dispose of his plate.

“You two be safe,” Sparks said. “We’ll see you back in Fabens.” She headed off to join Rufus, and the two remaining finished off their food, getting to their feet. They dumped their plates in a haphazard garbage bag next to one of the trucks.

As they drove off, Rodriguez turned to Sparks. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, they just had an errand to run,” she replied casually, and his brow furrowed but then smoothed out when he realized what she was saying.

“Okay then,” he replied. “We should get packed up and get in position. That horde will be on us before we know it.” He looked back at the grillmaster. “Make sure you dump those coals in the road,” he instructed. “We have enough going out here without worrying about wildfires.”

The chef nodded and began to clean up as Rodriguez headed over to his truck. Sparks and Rufus hopped in the back, sitting up against the window, as Rodriguez got into the passenger seat with his driver.

“You good back there?” he asked through the open window.

“Let’s do it!” Sparks called back, and the truck roared to life, heading out with Javier and Trenton in the SUV behind them.

Once the grill master finished cleaning up, he and two others hopped into the last SUV to join the caravan as they began to head to the interstate up north.

The battle was soon to begin.

CHAPTER SIX

Clara and Jeff slowed down about a quarter mile away from the turnoff, pulling over to the side of the road.

“What’s up?” Clara asked.

He stared straight ahead before reaching into the backseat for a hunting rifle, and she swallowed hard.

“Jeff? What’s wrong?” she demanded.

He shook his head. “Nothing that I can see,” he replied, “but I just want to make sure.”

He got out of the car, aiming the rifle straight down the highway, looking past the town and scanning for any movement. After a few moments, he was satisfied that they were alone, so he got back in.

Clara raised an eyebrow at him as he put the gun into the backseat.

“Just making sure that asshole wasn’t going to spy on us,” he explained, raising his palms. “He doesn’t strike me as the type to be smart enough to think that we might stop here, but I can’t say the same about his friends.”

She smiled softly. “Better safe than sorry, right?” she asked.

“Exactly,” he replied with a firm nod.

They started driving again, heading up to their target road and making the turn. As they headed towards the building with the radio in it, Clara looked towards the roadblock at the end of the street, which was now free of bodies.

“Guess the stench was getting to be too much for them,” she murmured.

Jeff shrugged. “Or, they knew that the Cartel was going to be in the vicinity, and didn’t want to take the chance of being discovered,” he suggested.

“Suppose that works too,” she agreed.

He winced when he realized that he’d dismissively corrected her, and she laughed when she spotted the look on his face.

“Don’t worry, I’m not offended,” she assured him, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

They pulled up to the building, stopping alongside the curb. They got out of the car, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

“The radio is just inside there, I think I can manage,” she said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder.

He shot her a lopsided grin. “We can just chalk it up to me wanting to stretch my legs,” he suggested, “if it’ll make me sound less like a hovering guardian angel.”

Clara chuckled and shook her head as the two of them headed for the front door. The building seemed to be a small storefront that had the door removed. They walked in and did a quick sweep of the place, assuming that it was empty but not wanting to take anything for granted.

“I’ll watch the door,” Jeff offered.

She nodded. “Should only be a minute or two,” she said, and walked over to the register desk. She looked around and finally found the radio nestled into the back of one of the shelves. She picked it up, fiddling with the dial.

Jeff looked out into the town as Clara spoke into every channel, waiting for a response. He tuned her out, contemplating how eerie it was to see Marfa completely devoid of life. Dread rose in his gut at the sound of a rumbling car engine.

He peeked around the corner of the door frame, looking towards the highway. Several blocks up was the car that Angel and his crew had left in earlier.

“Shit fuck fuck!” he muttered.

Clara paused and looked over at him. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“It’s Angel,” he said. “I want you to stay behind that counter, you understand?”

She nodded and ducked down, raising the radio to her lips. “I need to go radio silent for a few minutes,” she said. “Everything is under control, I’ll be back.”

“Copy that,” Andrew replied.

Jeff watched as the car rolled slowly down the road and wondered if they were trying to ratchet up the tension on purpose. He hated to admit to himself that it was working.

They parked about ten yards away from his vehicle, and he watched from behind cover as they got out. Once he had a good idea of where everybody was, with Angel on the driver’s side and the other two on the passenger’s side, he stepped outside.

“Didn’t realize you were that anxious for our date there, cupcake,” he drawled.

Angel sneered. “You got a big mouth on you, there,” he spat. “Better be careful, because it can get you in a whole lot of trouble, especially since we’re the only ones here.” He cocked his head. “Or are we?”

“Don’t worry,” Jeff replied with a flippant sigh, “I’m more than enough for you.”

Angel wagged a finger at him. “If I didn’t know any better, I would swear you were up to something,” he said. “Why would you bother to stop in this small town in the middle of nowhere?”

“It’s a long drive,” the skinhead replied with a casual shrug. “When nature calls, I tend to answer.”

The younger Rivas scoffed. “What kind of man are you?” he asked, spreading his arms. “Look around, the world is your bathroom.”

“You may like shoving a tumbleweed up your ass,” Jeff said, and raised his palm. “And to be clear, I’m not knocking you on that because I don’t kink shame. But I prefer toilet paper.”

Angel narrowed his eyes and then glanced at his friends. “I don’t know about you two, but I don’t buy it,” he said. “I say we see what’s going on.”

The other let out excited noises in the affirmative, stepping forward.

Jeff took the invitation, stalking towards them with menace in his eyes. He cracked his knuckles, and the group stopped about five feet away as he towered over them, broad shoulders rippling muscle.

“So, which one of you wants to eat through a straw for the next six months, huh?” he asked, regarding each one in turn. “What about you? You want to blend up a taco in order to eat? Or you? Maybe I break your back and see how you fare in a wheelchair against those things.” He looked at Angel. “Or what about you? You smell that?” He sniffed loudly, exaggerating the movement. “Sounds like your boys over there pissed themselves once they got a good look at me up close. You really want to try taking me on with these two pussies as your only backup?”

The three men stood there, seeming to wither under Jeff’s malicious stare, and finally Angel snapped his fingers.

“Let’s go, he’s not worth our time,” he spat.

Jeff stared them down as they backed away, got back in their car, and sped off back towards the highway. When the vehicle disappeared in the distance, he let out a deep sigh of relief, shoulders slumping.

Clara emerged seconds later. “That was intense,” she said.

He whirled around, chewing his lip. “I’m… I’m sorry you had to hear that,” he blurted.

“Don’t be,” she assured him, putting a hand on her arm. “You de-escalated the situation by escalating it.” She paused, confusion on her face at the way the words had come out of her mouth.

Jeff laughed. “I totally understand what you meant, there,” he said, relaxing.

“Well good,” she replied with a chuckle, “as long as one of us did.”

“You should probably finish your call,” he suggested, inclining his head towards the building. “We should start heading back soon so we don’t attract any more suspicion from them.”

“I’ll make it quick,” she assured him, and turned to head back inside.

Jeff took a step towards her. “Oh, and Clara?” he asked.

“Yeah?” she asked, turning back around.

He grinned. “I’m totally going to punch that motherfucker in the ribs while I hold him down for you,” he declared.

She smiled and shook her head. “I’m good with that.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Javier and Trenton sat in their SUV, staring down the interstate towards the horde, which was less than a mile away. Beside them was the truck with Rodriguez and the others, the third SUV sitting on the other side of that.

“You know where you’re picking us up, right?” Trenton asked through the open window.

Rufus laughed. “Just hang out on the corner and show a little leg,” he joked, “we’ll find you.”

Sparks smacked his arm playfully, rolling her eyes, and leaned over him. “Yeah, we know,” she assured Trenton. “We’ll come get the two of you once they pass. Figure it’ll be at least a couple of hours.”

“Take your time,” Javier said. “We’re going to be surrounded by tasty treats.”

Trenton grinned. “I see that look on your face Rufus, and don’t worry,” he said, raising a hand, “and don’t worry, I’ll bring you some cake.”

“Damn right you will,” the old man replied with a smirk. “You boys be safe.”

“We’ll see you soon,” Sparks added.

The two vehicles started up and headed towards the interstate, which looped around the northern part of town. Trenton and Javier sat and stared down the road towards the lumbering horde, both of them transfixed on the mass of rotting flesh moving as one.

“You beginning to think we made a mistake volunteering for this?” Trenton asked.

Javier nodded slowly. “Oh, a hundred percent,” he admitted.

Trenton let out a dark laugh in response to the deadpan line. “Glad it’s not just me,” he said.

“Still, even though we had made what is quite possibly the worst decision of our lives by being here, I’m at peace with it,” Javier said, cocking his head. “Because I know we’re going to do this job right, and I can’t say the same for some of the other people in my camp.”

“Here here!” Trenton added and extended his fist.

Javier bumped it with his own, and then the two of them sat in silence for a few more minutes as the horde marched closer.

Trenton looked over his shoulder out the back window towards the exit, which led down a slight embankment to the surface street highway, about fifty yards away.

“Okay, we’re looking clear behind us on the exit,” he said.

Javier reached down underneath the driver’s seat, tugging on the rope tied to the bottom of it to make sure it was secure. “Automated driver is good to go, too,” he replied.

They sat for another few moments, staring out the window at the lumbering horde. He finally fired up the vehicle and did a three-point turn, setting them up in the middle of the road.

Trenton reached up and opened the sunroof before grabbing the assault rifle from the backseat. “You remember the jumping off point, right?” he asked.

“We lead them for ten blocks, then speed up two, and make a run for it,” Javier confirmed.

Trenton nodded and got up from his seat, maneuvering around so he could stand up through the sunroof. Once he was in position, the zombies were closer, within twenty yards, many of them moaning and growling and snarling when they realized there was a fresh meal ahead.

He waited patiently, knowing that he needed to time it just right. He took ai through the rifle scope, honing in on a large male ghoul that was missing several chunks of flesh from its face.

“Start moving on my signal,” he said.

Javier gave him a light tap on the leg to let him know that he’d gotten the message.

Trenton continued to aim, waiting until the zombies were within ten yards, his palms beginning to sweat at the sheer enormity of the horde that stretched on for miles, vanishing over the horizon.

He finally squeezed the trigger, sending a round through the forehead of the target zombie. It only took a few seconds before the body was swallowed up by the mass. He aimed at the next one, having to pause and adjust as the SUV lurched forward slowly.

Javier kept it moving at a shuffling zombie’s pace, his foot on the brake so it would only crawl at a couple of miles per hour to keep the exact buffer of space between the vehicle and horde.

Trenton tried to aim and take another ghoul down, but the SUV ride wasn’t the smoothest, making accurate aim impossible. He quickly gave up on shooting them in the head, knowing that the noise part was more important than killing one zombie in a million-strong horde.

He switched to pulling the trigger every couple of seconds, attempting more to trip them up and keeping a steady stream of noise in the air.

The ghouls in the front of the pack began to get agitated as they lumbered forward, reaching out for a prey that was continuously just out of reach.

Javier tapped him on the leg to get his attention. “Exit in thirty seconds,” he said.

Trenton gave him a thumbs up and returned to firing. He started pulling the trigger as fast as he could, knowing this was their last chance to pull the creatures off of the interstate. He burned through a magazine and quickly reloaded, dropping the empty one down into the SUV.

The vehicle began to drift over towards the exit, and Trenton gave it all he had, firing round after round to make as much noise as he could. Bullets ripped through the front line of the ghouls, causing little more than superficial damage. As the vehicle began down the slight decline of the exit, hundreds of zombies veered off to follow them.

“It’s working!” Trenton exclaimed, and then resumed firing, drawing ghouls away from the main pack to follow them onto the surface street highway.

The SUV reached the bottom of the exit ramp that was now completely filled with ghouls. There were easily several hundred, with more lining up behind them.

For a brief moment, Trenton allowed himself to believe that all the zombies would follow. Maybe, just maybe, they’d be able to end this threat with a single shot. The hopeful belief was short-lived, however.

The SUV was a block and a half away from the exit before his heart sank. The stream of zombies from the highway had stopped.

“Fuck!” he cried.

Javier startled, smacking his leg hard. “What?!”

“We only got a few thousand of them,” Trenton replied.

Javier let out a deep sigh. He, too, was disheartened that they’d only pulled that many, but his original panic had been that they were in mortal danger. At least, more than they already were. He shook his head.

Trenton looked back at the interstate, which curved to the north, and watched helplessly as the overwhelming majority of the horde continued to trudge along. He aimed towards the top of the exit which was several blocks away at that point, and began firing.

He managed to strike a few zombies in the side as they walked by, but the majority of them ignored the bullets. A couple looked around like they were confused, but were quickly shoved along by the horde, like a leaf falling into a stream.

Trenton sighed as the horde ignored his efforts and changed his attention back to the problem at hand—the ones that had followed.

“How are we looking?” Javier asked from inside.

Trenton shook his head. “Two, maybe three thousand followed us,” he replied.

“That’s it?” the driver asked, and it was less to his companion and more just in disbelief to the heavens.

“The rest just pushed on down the interstate,” Trenton replied, rubbing his forehead.

Javier sighed and then perked up as zombies began to pour out of the side streets. “Contact, three o’clock!” he yelled.

Trenton swung around and spotted a few dozen ghouls coming out of one street, attracted by the noise. He took aim, but waited until they were within reach to fire. He scanned up the next block, seeing dozens more coming out from between buildings and the next side street.

“How much further do we have?” he barked.

“Four more blocks before we break out,” Javier called back, “six to the turn.”

Trenton stared up the road as their escape route began to close. He froze for a second, unsure of what their best option was.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, and then yelled, “Floor it!”

Javier didn’t need to be asked twice and hit the gas. The quick acceleration caught Trenton off guard, flinging him around the sunroof. It took a moment, but he finally regained his footing, keeping his focus on the threat ahead.

The SUV sped down the road as zombies poured out from the side streets, getting closer and closer to the vehicle.

“One more block!” Javier bellowed.

Trenton spotted a dozen zombies on the next block that had made their way to the center of the street, a good twenty yards away from the other.

“When you stop, get the driver set up, and I’ll cover!” he cried.

Javier reached the target block, with a couple of the dozen ghouls standing in the middle of the road. He floored it just a bit to smack hard into the duo, sending the corpses flying back several yards to smack down onto the pavement. Righter that, he slammed on the brakes, sending his companion lurching forward from the momentum.

As soon as they were at a standstill, Javier started working on typing the rope to the steering wheel to make sure it would drive relatively straight along the road. While he was doing this, Trenton took aim and opened fire.

He carefully selected his targets, aiming and squeezing the trigger to send round after round through the creatures’ heads. He picked off a few near the front of the vehicle and then startled as three of them smacked into the driver’s side door.

“Am I good?” Javier yelled from beneath the steering wheel.

Trenton adjusted his aim, shooting each of the three zombies quickly at near point blank range to drop them harmlessly to the ground. “Yeah, you’re good,” he called back.

Javier continued working on securing the steering wheel as Trenton continued to pump out round after round into zombie heads. After several tense moments, the immediate area around the SUV was clear, and the vehicle was rigged up for launch.

“On the move!” Javier yelled, and jumped out of the driver’s side, drawing his handgun to scan the area for any immediate threat that they may have drawn towards them. “Cover!” he called, and took over gun duty, shooting several pullets towards the back of the vehicle.

He struck a few zombies making their way around it to get to them as Trenton clambered up onto the roof. He slid down the front windshield, landing hard on the ground and firing a few more rounds down the street as even more ghouls emerged.

“Set it loose!” he yelled.

Javier ducked back inside the vehicle, pulling the handbrake hard before tossing a brick onto the gas pedal. The engine whined loudly as the SUV picked up a little steam, but with the handbrake it didn’t go very fast.

The duo quickly stood side by side behind it, glancing back towards the horde which was picking up new members as they shambled by the side streets, catching the newcomers and sweeping them along in their river of death.

“We gotta move,” Trenton said, noting the horde a block away.

They began to jog up the road, keeping pace with the SUV that was ten yards ahead. A few zombies stepped up to attack the vehicle, only to be knocked back to the ground. The men paid them no attention, rather leaping over them and continuing to run towards the turnoff a block and a half up.

When they reached the next intersection, they spotted several dozen ghouls emerging from the side street, causing them to stop dead in their tracks.

“We aren’t making it through that,” Javier said, eyes widening.

Trenton glanced down another side street, seeing about ten or so zombies stretched out over the next block. He threw his rifle over his shoulder and pulled out a large hunting knife from his boot.

“This is our turn, then,” he declared. “We’ll cut up the next block to get to the burned out building.”

Javier followed his lead, holstering his handgun and switching to his machete as well. Silence was going to be of the essence here to make sure the horde wouldn’t pull off of the main highway. If they did, and filtered into the city streets, then it would be all but impossible for them to be rescued.

They raced down the street towards the ten or so ghouls spread out. Neither of them stopped to attack, rather lowering their shoulders to bowl the corpses over.

Trenton stumbled a bit after ramming into his, and another managed to grab tightly onto the back of his shirt as he slowed down. He struggled to break free, swinging wildly, but was unable to reach behind him all the way.

Javier came in swinging, bringing his machete forcefully down onto the wrist of the zombie, severing the rotted hand. He gave the rest of the corpse a forceful kick in the side, sending it careening out of the way.

Trenton gave him a quick nod of thanks, and they took off running once again.

They made the turn at the next intersection, rushing down the road. There were twenty creatures at the far end that slowly made their way up towards the highway, attracted by the grinding of the emergency parking brake as the SUV moved up the highway.

There were only a couple of ghouls on the side street, neither of which paid the two running men any attention. Trenton motioned for Javier to follow him, and they moved to the sidewalk, pressing up against the buildings as close as they could to help conceal them.

Halfway up the block, they stopped, watching the two zombies on the road wander up to the group headed towards the highway, joining them. There was a brief gap of monsters on the next road, so the men picked up the pace and sprinted in that direction, seeing their opening to get across the burned up building.

They reached the intersection, with the mangled building on the southern corner across the way. They paused briefly to survey the situation. Unfortunately, it seemed as if their footsteps had been a little too loud, as several zombies turned around, moaning, heading back towards them.

“Fuck,” Trenton muttered.

The gap between the packs was small, but the moans alerted the back group to their present.

The duo didn’t speak or look at each other, simply by reflex darted out from their hiding spot and raced across the street.

Several dozen creatures turned their attention towards the running men, moving towards them in unison. As they reached the entrance of the burned building, a long creature came out right in front of Trenton.

He reacted quickly, by instinct, thrusting his hunting knife upwards to catch the zombie underneath the chin. He shoved it up hard, piercing its brain, and then tore it back down, kicking the corpse aside so they could enter the building.

The terrain inside was rough, much rougher than they had seen through the drone view. Most of the roof had collapsed, with several wooden beams splintered and sticking up in multiple places, making it difficult to navigate.

This was hard for them, but ultimately what they’d wanted to achieve to slow down any pursuers.

As they slowly worked their way through, zombies poured in through the front of the building. When Trenton reached the center of the room, he put his hand on Javier’s shoulder to get him to stop.

At first the Cartel member was confused, brow furrowing, but then contemplated for a moment and then nodded. It made sense to lure as many of the zombies as they could inside before making a break for it. The other unspoken agreement was that neither of them wanted to speak, for fear of pulling the horde outside to the back door, which was their escape route.

The ghouls had a tough time working their way through, and the duo started smirking, watching their enemies fall all over themselves. One zombie managed to get its foot caught on a beam and toppled forward, impaling itself through the chest on a particularly large spike. The one behind it lost its balance and fell backwards, knocking down several others in the process.

When the group was about five yards away, Trenton motioned for Javier to leave, and they turned, navigating the rest of the room as quickly and quietly as they could to the back door.

When they reached it, they took a beat, looking back at the ghouls that had reached the center part of the room. Trenton took a deep breath, preparing himself for what might be on the other side of the door, even though they couldn’t hear anything outside.

He held up three fingers, doing a slow and silent countdown, and then threw open the door. There was a loud thump as the metal door smacked into a zombie’s face, knocking it back onto the ground.

The two men burst out into the alley and Javier gently shut the door behind them, making sure it latched. Trenton lunged forward, stabbing the fallen zombie in the face and then surveying the area.

The fence they were going to climb was less than ten yards away, but there were a few ghouls milling about, suddenly very interested in the fresh meal.

The duo quickly leapt into action, stabbing and slashing at the creatures to cut them down to size, buying them enough time to scale the fence.

Trenton stabbed one directly in the eye, sending the corpse convulsing to the ground. Javier slashed sideways with his machete, taking a head clean off at the neck.

When they were left with nothing but a pile of limbs and bodies, the coast relatively clear, the duo ran for the chain-link fence. They secured their blades and got to work, managing to scale to the top relatively quickly.

At the top, they flipped over, leaping down into the grass below. When they hit the ground, Javier stumbled forward, face planting into the grass. Trenton dove for him, grabbing his arm to help him up.

“Are you hurt?” he whispered.

Javier shook his head as he wiped himself off. “Just my pride,” he murmured.

Trenton smirked, patting him on the shoulder, and they took stock of the lot. They began a slow saunter across, relishing the brief moment of peace before they’d have to make a final push to the target building.

The fence skirted completely around the large lot, connecting to a small one-story building in the center. The grass was overgrown, looking like it hadn’t been maintained properly even before the apocalypse. The duo looked through the other side of the fence, watching as several dozen zombies shambled towards the highway, most of them oblivious to the men inside.

Trenton reached the building first, peering in through a small dirty window to find it empty inside. Javier gently turned the doorknob, blinking in surprise when it opened. He held it shut as Trenton raised his fingers again for a silent countdown, and when he got to zero, Javier threw the door open.

They rushed inside, and Trenton moved in to do a quick sweep of the building as Javier secured the door. Before long, they reconvened at the front, looking out the window. The two-story baker was in the lot across the street from them, a good thirty yards away from one door to another.

There were dozens of ghouls in the road, most of which were thankfully working their way north towards the highway, but there were still plenty of gaps between them.

“You think we can make it?” Trenton murmured.

Javier took a deep breath. “Half tempted to just stay here,” he admitted.

His companion shook his head, and pointed to the front door, a flimsy wooden thing with some holes in it. “One of those things decides to come our way, and we’d be screwed,” he said. “That door couldn’t hold back a chihuahua.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Javier admitted, scratching his chin. “So which side of the building you want to head towards?” he asked.

Trenton looked down the side street as much as he could from inside the window. There were several zombies towards the closest street, but he was unable to see much of anything in the other direction.

“Well, we know what we’re dealing with if we go left,” he musd. “If we go right, we could be in the clear, or be totally overwhelmed.”

Javier grinned. “Question is, are you a gambling man or not?” he asked.

Trenton shrugged. “I’ve been on half a dozen blind dates in the last year,” he said.

His companion nodded. “Gambling it is,” he said, raising a victory fist.

They looked out the window again, waiting for their moment to move, blades at the ready. Finally there was a break, and they threw open the door, quickly racing out to the right.

They shoved their way past a couple of zombies near the building, knocking them to the ground. When they reached the road, they looked to the right and quickly realized they’d made a terrible mistake.

Nearly fifty zombies were in the road, all of which turned their snarling heads towards the two living men. They froze for a brief moment, before Javier grabbed Trenton by the shirt and dragged him towards the building.

The ghouls gained ground, converging towards them and almost cutting them off from being able to get around them. The men pumped their legs as hard as they could, barely getting by the outstretched hands of the zombies, scraping their shoulders on the brick corner as they came around.

They moved quickly down the side of the building, with Trenton glancing over his shoulder to see the zombies quickly filtering in behind them. Javier was in the lead, running towards the back of the building. When he was nearly there, a ghoul staggered around the corner.

He raised his machete while running, bringing it down forcefully onto the top of the corpse’s head. He used the momentum to shove the zombie forward, clearing their path to the back of the building.

The ladder was fifteen yards away, with only a few undead enemies standing in their way. They rushed it, taking time to dispatch the ghouls that were in their way, stabbing and slashing, making sure they weren’t going to be grabbed while they were climbing.

Once clear, Javier got into a crouching position beneath the ladder, which was several feet above the ground, the bottom rung about as high as a basketball rim.

“Come on, move!” he screamed, cupping his hands so that Trenton could get a boost.

He sheathed his knife and darted forward, planting his foot into the hand step and leaping up, grabbing onto the bottom rung of the ladder. He climbed up a few spots, stopping to look back at his companion still on the ground.

Javier backed up, getting ready to make a running leap for it.

Trenton shook his head. “He’s never going to make it,” he muttered, and shoved his arm through the ladder rung, securing himself as best he could, leaving his legs dangling several feet below the bottom. “Grab onto me!” he cried.

Javier tore towards him as the zombies closed in, planting his foot on the wall and using it to propel himself upwards. He wrapped his arms around Trenton’s knees and made quick work of climbing him to get to the ladder. He hooked a leg up awkwardly onto the rung next to his companion’s thighs.

It took several moments to maneuver his limbs around Trenton’s hanging body, but Javier finally managed to get above him and begin climbing.

Once clear, Trenton hissed as he disentangled his arm from the rung, and it screamed, strained from holding up an entire adult man. He looked down, seeing a pack of zombies below, reaching and snapping and desperate for him to fall into their gaping mouths.

He hooked up one of his legs, using his feet to propel him up the ladder, curling his injured arm to his chest and using his good one to struggle to clamber up.

Once he got closer to the roof, Javier popped up over the side, holding out his arms. “Come on, I got you,” he said, and grabbed a hold of Trenton’s good arm.

They heaved up over the side of the roof, and collapsed back onto the flat concrete, chests heaving.

“Are you okay?” Javier huffed, turning his head to look at his companion.

Trenton hissed as he tried to lift his arm and nodded jerkily. “Nothing some Icy Hot and a shot of Jack won’t fix,” he said.

“Not sure we’re going to find that in here,” Javier replied, chuckling.

His companion shrugged with the shoulder that wasn’t in pain. “You never know,” he replied shakily. “Bakers can be alcoholics too.”

“This is a true statement,” Javier admitted with a nod, and sat up.

“What do you say we in there and see what we can find?” Trenton suggested, groaning as he rolled onto his side to push himself up.

“First thing is first,” his companion said, and got to his feet, looking around the empty rooftop. He strode over to the air conditioner, finding a small pile of metal debris on the other side. He picked up a thick piece and reared back, throwing it as hard as he could towards the highway.

Several seconds later, there was the unmistakable clang of metal on pavement echoing through the air. He repeated the process several times before backing away from the edge.

Trenton joined him, and they watched the zombies around the building move away from the back and head towards the noise, rejoining the horde moving towards the highway.

From their vantage point, it was difficult to get a good look, but they could see what appeared to be a stream of zombies still going after the slow-moving SUV. They nodded and let out deep breaths, relieved at having done their jobs.

“You did good out there,” Trenton said.

Javier gave him a small smile. “You as well,” he replied. “And… thank you for saving my life on the ladder.”

“Anytime,” his companion replied.

They watched for a few moments in silence.

Trenton finally let out a big sigh. “I wish we could have gotten more of them off of the interstate,” he said.

Javier nodded. “Perhaps the others will have better luck than we did.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Rodriguez, Rufus, and Sparks watched from their vehicle as a couple thousand zombies poured off of the interstate, following Javier and Trenton. Their disappointment quickly set in when they saw the breakaway group end.

“Well, that was a colossal waste of fucking time,” Rufus muttered.

Sparks shook her head. “We still have another shot at them,” she insisted.

“If we’re only peeling off a couple thousand at a time, we’re going to need a few hundred exits between here and El Paso,” the old man argued.

She opened her mouth to respond, but then closed it again, shaking her head. There was no room for pointless platitudes—he was right.

“Rufus, how is your back?” Rodriguez asked suddenly.

The old man raised an eyebrow. “Um…” he trailed off and then shrugged. “Fine, I guess?”

“Good, because I have an idea,” Rodriguez replied, and then whistled loudly out the window, gaining the attention of the other vehicle with two Cartel members inside. He started the truck and began driving down the interstate, moving quickly and leaving the marching horde in their wake.

It only took a few minutes to reach the highway turnoff target, and he slammed on the brakes just past it. The other vehicle did the same, parking right behind them.

Rodriguez sprung out of the truck, moving with manic purpose.

“What’s the hurry?” Rufus asked as he opened his door.

“I figure we have forty, maybe forty-five minutes before they arrive here, which gives us scant time to act,” Rodriguez replied.

Sparks joined him, cocking her head. “What’s your plan?”

He motioned just off the exit. “We’re going to push some of those cars up here and create a barricade,” he said, pointing to several businesses with cars parked in the lot. “My men will still try to pull them off of the highway, but with the added cars, it might deter them and force them to follow.”

Rufus and Sparks stared at the few dozen zombies across the parking lots and then looked at each other and shrugged.

“Hell, I’ve heard worse ideas,” Rufus admitted. “Were here, so might as well give it a shot.”

Sparks nodded, and the two of them joined Rodriguez to wait for the others. The Cartel member whistled again, getting the attention of the men in the car.

“Clear the path for us!” he yelled, pointing to the parking lot.

One of them waved back at him, and the SUV sped off down the ramp.

“It will take them a moment,” Rodriguez said, motioning for his companions to follow him on foot, “so we might as well enjoy this nice day.”

The trio walked over to the off ramp and began descending down the slight decline. As they walked towards the highway below, gunfire erupted in the distance. They could see the two madmen driving around the parking lots, honking the horn to get the attention of the ghouls. They’d stop beside the and open fire, essentially doing a mass drive-by shooting.

They circled several times, Rufus and Sparks watching on with some sense of amusement. The men would occasionally leave a zombie standing during the excitement of wiping out a batch of them, so they’d reverse course, running over the stragglers before moving on to the next batch. It was almost like watching kids play a shoot-em-up video game.

“They seem to enjoy their work,” Rufus drawled.

Rodriguez chuckled. “Yes, Juan and Antonio have been going a little stir crazy being cooped up in El Paso,” he admitted, “so when they heard of this suicide mission, they volunteered rather quickly. They haven’t been able to have this much fun since we took over the town.”

“Are they loyal to you?” Sparks asked, crossing her arms.

“To me?” he asked and then shook his head. “No, they are not. However, they aren’t particularly loyal to Tiago, either. Indifferent is a good description. As long as they get to spread chaos, they are content.”

“Unattached lunatics are better to have around than anybody loyal to the opposition, I suppose,” Rufus mused.

Rodriguez nodded. “Especially these guys,” he replied. “I’ve seen them take on entire strike teams and leave them in pieces without breaking a sweat.”

They were nearly to the bottom of the ramp when the boys finished off the last remaining zombie in the immediate area. They backed up their SUV to a vehicle in the lot, and both jumped out. Juan opened the back hatch and pulled out a chain, attaching it to the rear of their vehicle before attaching the other side to the front of the car.

Antonio, meanwhile, walked over to the driver’s side window, smashing it out with the butt of his handgun, reaching in and putting the car into neutral.

The group stepped out of the way as the men dragged the car up the ramp, getting it into position on the interstate.

Rodriguez walked up to another car in the same lot, smashing out the window and opening the door. He looked for the keys in the sunblocker, but there weren’t any there.

Sparks raised an eyebrow at him curiously.

“What?” he asked sheepishly, shrugging. “There’s always a set there in your American movies.”

She chuckled and shook her head as he popped it into neutral. He got out, unlocking the doors as he did so. Sparks opened the passenger side, getting behind the door, and Rufus put his hands on the trunk.

“Let’s get it moving,” Rodriguez said, and the trio pushed.

The car began to move pretty easily, and Rodriguez reached in to steer it towards the on ramp. Just before they got there, the other two drove back by them, on their way to pick up another car. It took them a few minutes, but they got it in position on the interstate, bumper to bumper with the other.

“Few more of these, and we might just be in business,” Rufus huffed.

Sparks checked her watch. “We’re going to have to hurry, though,” she urged. “That clock is ticking down fast.”

A half an hour later, the trio pushed up one final car, putting it in position to finish off the makeshift barricade six cars long and two deep. They stood there to appraise their work, sweaty and breathing heavily, worn out from the excursion.

“Let’s hope this works,” Rufus declared, brushing sweat-slicked hair back from his forehead. “I’d hate to go through that much exercise for nothing.”

Sparks smirked at him. “You could always just chalk it up to doing it for your health,” she teased.

“That’s what the whiskey is for,” Rufus insisted.

Sparks and Rodriguez cracked a smile, and then glanced down the interstate, seeing the horde coming into the hundred yard buffer. Juan and Antonio pulled up on the other side of the barricade and stopped.

“You two know what to do?” Rodriguez asked.

Juan nodded. “Get ‘em a few miles off of the road, then cut across on the next highway,” he replied. “Nothing to it.”

“I’ll see you back in town this evening,” Rodriguez said, and the men both nodded as Juan rolled up the window.

Antonio popped out of the sunroof with a large machine gun, cracking his neck back and forth.

Rodriguez waved to his companions. “We should get back to our vehicle, just in case this doesn’t hold.”

They headed back, just as Antonio opened fire. The machine gun was incredibly loud, bullets ripping through the front line of the ghouls, cutting creatures in half.

The first spray stumbled the line a bit, but the downed ghouls were quickly swallowed up by the mass. Antonio smacked the roof of the SUV, prompting his partner to start the slow drive.

The trio watched from their truck as the machine gun fire continued, shredding zombies and drawing a gigantic pile of them off of the interstate and onto the highway. While a significant number were leaving, the majority of them continued marching straight ahead.

They noticed that while some of them attempted to adjust course and follow the others, they were pushed ahead by the overwhelming force of the ghouls behind them. As soon as they would slow down, others would catch up to them and shove ahead, keeping them moving in one direction on the interstate.

“Well, that explains why we’re only able to push off a handful at a time,” Sparks declared.

Rodriguez nodded thoughtfully. “It would appear as though if we want to get more, we’re going to have to set off some sort of device to create a buffer zone,” he mused. “That way, the ones in front won’t be forced ahead.”

“Explosion, you say?” Rufus piped up with a grin. “I can help with that.”

Rodriguez chuckled and patted the old man on the back. “I’m sure you can, friend.”

They turned their attention back to the mass of marching death as the first zombies reached the car barricade. They pressed up against it, causing a bit of a backlog. This allowed for a few more ghouls to be drawn off of the interstate, which excited the group.

“Hell yeah, looks like it’s working!” Rufus exclaimed.

This went on for about thirty seconds or so, until screeching filled the air. At first they were confused, but within seconds it dawned on them all at the same time, their stomachs sinking as one. The zombie force was so strong that it was pushing the cars along the road.

“Jesus Christ,” Rufus breathed.

They watched in horror as the zombies pressed up against the cars crushed beneath the weight. A few heads popped off as their torsos were flattened by the collective weight of a million zombies.

The screeching tires grew louder, more cars pushed further and further. Soon, they moved with a steady speed, albeit slowly. The cars on the outer edges began to move in different directions, the more weight put on the front ends of the vehicles than the back or center.

All told, within three minutes the barricade that they had worked so hard to construct was in tatters. Zombies on the outer edges had successfully shoved them out of the way, onto the shoulder, and in one case, rolling down an embankment into a building below.

The other cars turned sideways, rotating ninety degrees, more zombies filtering through them easily. In the grand scheme of things, they were little more than a nuisance than an actual obstacle.

The group stared at it, dejected, watching as the stream of zombies that were going off the interstate had cut off, and everything was coming their way.

“We should go,” Rodriguez muttered.

Rufus shook his head, standing beside the truck.

“Come on,” Sparks urged from the truck bed.

He finally relented, hopping into the back as Rodriguez fired it up. He turned and quickly sped down the interstate towards the next highway bridge. As they approached it, it was still close enough that they could still see the horde trailing them, and the front line of ghouls that Trenton and Javier had managed to break off.

“Well, at least they were able to pick up the zombies in town and move ‘em out,” Rufus said.

Sparks nodded with a sigh. “Good to know something went as planned today,” she said.

Rodriguez drove a quarter mile past the bridge, which had steep grassy embankments on either side of it, leading down to the highway. They stopped to watch the horde as it pressed on towards them.

“Looks like we managed to time that about right,” he said.

Sparks nodded. “Now, we just have to hope they see the ones under them and want to join,” she added.

“We got anything to throw down there?” Rufus asked. “Cause a little ruckus?”

Sparks shook her head. “Whatever we pull isn’t going to be much, so I think it would be better to know if zombie noises will actually divert them,” she said.

“I agree,” Rodriguez said with a nod, “information is more valuable at this point.”

Rufus nodded, leaning his head back in his seat. The trio watched as the two zombie masses approached one another. The main interstate horde reached the bridge first, walking over it as the zombies below moved under it. Some of the creatures below were moaning as they went under the bridge, creating an echoing effect of snarls and gnashing teeth.

This sound reached the zombies on the outer edge of the main horde. A handful of them, no more than thirty or forty, wandered away from the main group and tumbled down the embankment to inspect the noise.

The group collectively sighed, dismay on their faces.

“Another bust,” Rufus groaned.

“Not necessarily,” Rodriguez replied through the window, shaking his head. “We now learned that they will follow another’s voice, even if it’s out of sight and far away. This could be useful.”

The old man threw up his hands. “How do you figure?” he demanded. “You want to start caging up zombies on the side of the road?”

“You need to think less literally, my friend,” Rodriguez replied.

Rufus pursed his lips. “At this stage in the day, you should be thankful I’m thinking at all.”

Rodriguez chuckled. “Fair enough,” he said. “You should know that El Paso has more than its fair share of electronic stores, and there are multiple lines of battery operated speakers and audio recorders.”

“Who gets to be the lucky one to go capture zombie moans?” Rufus asked.

Sparks raised her hand. “I vote Trenton,” she said.

“I second that,” Rodriguez agreed.

Rufus narrowed his eyes playfully. “Quick to throw our own man to the wolves, huh?” he asked.

Rodriguez shrugged. “I don’t know him that well, but he did volunteer for that suicide run,” he replied. “I would have assumed he enjoyed that kind of danger.”

“You make a compelling case,” Rufus agreed. “He gets my vote as well.”

The trio looked back to the horde, the front edge of which was nearly across the bridge.

“That appears to be our cue to leave,” Sparks said with a sigh. “Should probably go get Trenton, anyway.”

“Would you mind riding up front to navigate?” Rodriguez asked her, raising a hand. “Just in case we need to adjust course.”

She nodded. “Not at all.” She turned to Rufus, kissing his cheek swiftly. “You good back here on your own?” she asked.

He smirked. “Well, I was planning on cuddling up with you,” he drawled, “but I guess that can wait.”

She winked at him. “Well, we do have a long ride back to Fabens,” she said, and then jumped down from the truck bed. She hopped into the passenger seat, and Rodriguez took off as Rufus got comfy in the back.

They drove up half a mile before finding a slight embankment that led off of the interstate and to the surface roads below. There were only a few zombies spread pretty far out as they worked their way towards the highway.

“Should probably stay a couple of blocks off of the main road, just to be safe,” Sparks suggested.

“That was my thought as well,” Rodriguez agreed. “If you want to keep a look out to the main road, so we can get a sense of just how much we cleared it out?”

She nodded. “Will do.”

As they drove, she stared towards the highway, watching every side street leading to it and finding them completely clear, with only the occasional straggler milling about. None were on the highway itself.

This went on for several blocks before Rufus knocked on the back window. Sparks slid it open.

“Where the hell is everybody?” he asked through the opening. “I thought this town was crawling with those things?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, shaking her head.

The rest of the drive was just as peaceful as the first half, with them finally laying eyes on the pickup spot. There were a few zombies out front, banging on the glass, no doubt having caught sight of the duo hiding inside.

Rodriguez stopped the truck about twenty yards away from the creatures, and all three of them hopped out and walked forward. The boys inside, having likely spotted them, banged hard on the windows, making sure the zombies fixated on them.

Rodriguez and Sparks pulled out knives and began to jam the blades in quick succession along the row of ghouls, quickly dropping them all to the ground.

A few moments later, Trenton opened the bakery door, and the tantalizing scent of freshly baked bread wafted out to them.

“Wasn’t expecting that,” Sparks said, closing her eyes to take a deep whiff.

“What the hell is that?” Rufus barked.

Trenton laughed. “That, my grumpy friend, is fresh baked bread,” he declared.

“You baked bread?” the old man exclaimed.

“Would it be such a shock to find out that I did?” Trenton asked, and the other three immediately nodded in unison. “Well, I happen to agree with you,” he admitted. “This is all Javier’s work.”

Rodriguez walked inside, shaking his head. “Are you holding out on me, Javier?” he called. “I was unaware you had this particular skill set.”

“I’m not a professional, mind you,” Javier replied as he turned towards them, swiping flour from his pants, “but my little girl really likes it, so I've been baking it with her for the last six months or so.”

Rufus licked his lips. “Well, let’s have a taste then,” he said, spreading his arms.

“Should be out in a few minutes,” Javier replied with a chuckle, and waved them in.

Sparks secured the door behind them, and the trio wandered around the main room. There were wedding cake displays everywhere, and cases filled with rotten goods. The time and lack of electricity had taken a toll on what would have been delicious treats.

“I can see why you baked your own,” Sparks said, wrinkling her nose as she studied a green croissant. “Because that is nasty.”

“Yes, a lot of the food and ingredients had spoiled,” Javier said, shaking his head. “Thankfully the components for bread are both simple and have a long shelf life. Throw in a gas oven, and I put my time in here to good use.” He headed off into the kitchen to check on the loaves while the others stood around in the display room.

“I hope that your effort to break up that horde went better than ours,” Trenton said with a sigh.

Rufus shook his head. “About as well, I’m afraid,” he said. “Worse, if you consider I had to do cardio.” He pretended to shudder, and Trenton raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“We pushed some cars onto the interstate to create a barricade,” Sparks explained, rolling her eyes at the old man’s antics.

“Guessing it didn’t work?” Trenton asked tentatively.

Rufus shook his head. “They pushed through ‘em in a matter of seconds,” he said. “Short of moving a football stadium into their path, I don’t see us stopping them with what we have.”

“Have a little optimism,” Sparks said, giving his bicep a squeeze. “We still have a few days.”

He sighed. “Just not hopeful, that’s all.”

“Well, my friend, it just means you have to build bigger bombs to help us succeed,” Rodriguez declared. “I tell you what, tomorrow I will take you into El Paso to go shopping,” he said, holding up a finger. “I get the sense that our selection is going to be more robust than what you have in Fabens.”

Rufus’ eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas.

“See?” Sparks said, patting his shoulder. “Even if we fail, you’re at least going to get to have a hell of a lot of fun.”

He grinned. “Alright, I’m in,” he declared.

Javier interrupted by exiting the kitchen with a cooling rack. Atop it were a few fresh loaves of french bread, still steaming. “Normally we’d have to let it cool before slicing it,” he said as he set it down on a table, “but please, tear into it while it’s hot. We’re not going to get to have this very often.”

“You say that,” Rodriguez said, raising a hand, “but I think you might have new assignments in the near future.”

Trenton chuckled. “Making me wish I had learned how to bake in college.”

“Making me wish I had gone to college so I could have gotten baked,” Rufus quipped. “Would have been a lot better than going to ‘Nam.”

The group clustered around the table, tearing off chunks of the warm fresh bread, savouring every single earthy bite. Within a matter of minutes, both loaves were gone.

“Javier, I can’t thank you enough for that,” Sparks moaned as she swallowed her last mouthful.

He bowed a little at the waist. “It’s my pleasure, ma’am,” he said politely.

“I second that,” Rufus declared, patting his belly. “Good work.”

Javier nodded in appreciation as Rodriguez straightened his shoulders.

“We should be getting back,” he said. “We still have a lot of work that needs to get done.”

As the group walked out the door and began to get loaded up into the truck, Sparks stopped before hopping in.

“Can we make a detour before leaving?” she asked.

Rodriguez nodded. “Of course,” he replied. “Where would you like to go?”

“The highway,” she said.

He contemplated for a moment and then shrugged and nodded. They clambered into the truck and headed out, and he made the turn towards the highway. After a few moments, they pulled onto it, stopping in the center of the road.

He looked both ways, seeing not a single living zombie. The only visible bodies were the dead ones on the road. “There’s nothing here,” he breathed. “How is that possible?”

“Even the few thousand we managed to break off was big enough to get the ones in town to get moving,” Sparks explained. “That group that was on the highway here had to have been at least as big as what we pulled off of the interstate, maybe even bigger.”

Rodriguez nodded thoughtfully. “So, if we can get a big enough group moving in one direction,” he said slowly, “they can force others to do the same.”

“I don’t know what we can do with that information,” she admitted, “but I feel like it’s good information to have.”

He nodded again. “Agreed,” he said. “As I’ve found over the years in my various… ahem… work situations, having the right information can make all the difference in the world.”

She smirked. “And I’ve found that over the years in all my… ahem… work situations,” she said playfully, “that information does make all the difference.”

He chuckled as she called out his vagueness, having not particularly wanted to say criminal activity as his work situation. “I suppose we are far enough into our relationship that we don’t have judgement about our prior lives,” he admitted.

“I think that’s a safe bet,” Sparks agreed.

He started driving back to the interstate turnoff, and she held up a finger.

“There is an exception, however,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow. “And that would be?” he asked.

“Who is the greatest wrestler of all time?” she asked.

Rodriguez cracked a smile. “Well, I am from Mexico,” he said, “and I’m pretty sure my citizenship would get revoked if I said anyone other than El Santo.”

“Okay, I can appreciate that,” Sparks admitted, nodding. “But gun to your head, if you had to pick an American wrestler, who would you pick?”

He chewed his lip for a moment, thinking. “American born, or American worked?” he asked.

“American worked,” she clarified. “At least for the majority of their career.”

He thought for another few moments, and then finally said, “If you are talking work ethic and presence inside and outside the ring, the answer is Ric Flair.”

“Good answer,” she replied, nodding.

“However,” he continued, “a special mention has to go to Mick Foley for being the craziest person to ever set foot in a ring.”

Sparks smirked. “Or on top of a cage,” she added.

“So who is your pick?” he asked. “Or will you allow me to guess?”

She thought for a moment and then motioned for him to continue. “Go ahead and guess,” she said. “That could be fun.”

“You look like a Hulk Hogan type of woman,” Rodriguez said.

She deadpanned. “It’s a good thing you’re driving,” she said.

He laughed. “Why’s that?”

“Because if you weren’t, then that accusation would be worthy of an ass kicking,” she declared in a level, serious voice.

There was a moment of tense silence before they both broke out laughing, big belly laughs that were much needed after such a trying day. And it felt good to be able to bring some joy to one another, a nice diversion from the trying days to come.

END

PART 3

BY DEREK SLATON

© 2021

CHAPTER ONE

As the sun rose over the town of Fabens, the weary group began to stir. Rufus emerged from the bedroom, rubbing his eyes, wincing at his stiff muscles protesting from their busy day in Fort Stockton.

Sparks threw open the curtains, and he groaned when the bright light blinded him.

“Okay, okay, I’m awake,” he moaned. “You ain’t gotta torture me, girl.”

She whipped around at his bellyaching and smirked, walking over and patting his shoulder. “Sorry,” she said, “probably not the flashing you were hoping for this morning.”

His eyes finally focused, and he looked down at her, a sly grin erupting across his face. “Well, now I’m really awake,” he drawled.

At his wink, the redhead rolled her eyes.

Jeff lumbered out of his room, fists screwed into his eyes, in nothing but his boxers.

Sparks clapped a hand over her eyes with feigned repulsion. “Good thing I already blinded you, Rufus,” she said.

“No kidding,” the old man added, pretending to gag.

“Fuck I’m tired,” Jeff mumbled, voice hoarse.

“Apparently so,” Sparks replied, “since you forgot to put on pants this morning.”

The skinhead looked down at himself, shaking his head and then shrugging. “Well, with any luck, this will be the worst sight you see today.”

“Not likely,” Rufus said with a sigh, turning towards the kitchen.

“Shit man, don’t tell me I have to be the optimistic one today,” Jeff groaned, throwing his hands up.

Sparks rummaged around in one of the cupboards. “Don’t worry, I’m sure we can pawn that duty off on Leon,” she quipped. “Besides, Rufus is right, this is going to be another long day.”

“What the hell are we going out there for again?” Jeff groaned, plonking himself down into a nearby armchair. “I thought our next choke point was Van Horn, and that’s not for a couple of days yet.”

Sparks shook her head as she found an ancient jar of instant coffee, and shoved it right back into the cupboard. “There’s one more highway to the north of Fort Davis,” she explained, shutting the cupboard. “Not only do we need to thin them out as much as possible, we have to make sure they don’t go into Fort Davis.”

“Pretty sure those guys can handle themselves, just saying,” Jeff said, raising his palms in surrender.

“Well, if you don’t feel like going out today, you can stay back and help me set up that humdinger,” Rufus offered, patting his chest. “So you’d get to spend the whole day side by side with me and a few hundred pounds of explosive, toxic chemicals.”

Jeff rubbed his forehead and then let out a long, defeated sigh. “Fine, I’ll go fight zombies,” he groaned.

Sparks chuckled. “Don’t worry buddy, I’m sure we can get some breakfast before kicking the day off,” she said.

“That’s something at least,” Jeff muttered.

A high-pitched whizzing sound in the distance echoed outside, and the trio exchanged confused glances.

“Anybody else hear that?” Rufus asked.

They stood silently for a moment, listening hard as the sound grew louder and louder.

“What the hell is that?” Jeff demanded, getting to his feet.

Sparks headed for the door. “It sounds like a drone,” she said over her shoulder.

The trio piled outside, and looked up, finally finding an aircraft hovering several feet above the town. Leon exited his house a few doors down, wandering up the road with his hand over his eyes, squinting.

“Hey, is that one of yours?” Rufus asked, turning to him.

Leon shook his head. “Nope,” he replied. “No clue who that belongs to.”

“Don’t tell me the Cartel is spying on us,” Jeff grumbled.

Leon shrugged. “Not sure why they’d have to, since a couple of them are still in town,” he said.

The device flew past them, heading towards the command center before descending rapidly.

“Let’s get over there,” Leon said, waving for them to follow.

As they turned to leave, Rufus turned and stopped Jeff, pointing to his lower half. “You forgetting something?” he asked. “Pretty sure Ethel will cut you for showing up like that.”

Jeff looked down again and chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll be there in a few,” he promised, and darted back into the house.

Rufus caught up to Sparks and Leon, the three of them racing over to the command center.

Trenton and Clara stood outside, looking up at the roof of the building.

“Did you guys see the drone?” Leon huffed as they reached them.

Clara nodded. “Yeah, it landed on the roof,” she explained.

“Well, anybody got a ladder?” Rufus demanded.

Leon shook his head, walking over to the wall. He braced himself against the brick, standing stiffly. “Clara, see if you can get up there,” he said.

She nodded, and Trenton followed her over, crouching down and lacing his fingers together to give her a step up onto Leon’s shoulders. She used the momentum to lightly land her shoes on Leon’s shoulders, hooking her elbows over the roof’s edge and pulling herself up.

“What do you see?” Sparks called from below.

Clara leaned over the drone, seeing a moving camera on it. It stared right at her before moving to the right. She followed the motion to find an envelope wedged in between two of the supports.

“It’s got a letter on it,” she called back, and knelt down to pull the letter off. As soon as she was clear, the device rocketed straight up. It rose a few hundred feet into the air, and then sped off in the direction it had come from.

She turned the envelope over in her hand curiously. It felt thick, easily a few pages folded up inside.

“Did you get it?” Leon asked.

“Yeah,” she replied, “I’m coming down.” She sat down at the edge, stuffing the letter into her back pocket before turning around and hanging from her hands.

Trenton and Leon caught her when she let go, and set her down in the grass. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she grabbed the envelope and held it out to Leon.

He took it and waved for them to come inside. “Come on, let’s get in there and find out what this is,” he said.

When the group entered the command center, Ethel already had several mugs set up and ready to go, the coffee maker bubbling and hissing as it dispensed the elixir of life.

“Did somebody just get up onto the roof?” the old woman asked, turning around.

Clara raised her hand. “That was me, Ethel,” she said. “Somebody sent us a telegram.”

She chuckled and turned back to the coffee pot. “Never a dull moment,” she said.

Leon sat down in his chair and everyone gathered around as he ripped open the envelope. “Okay, here we go,” he said. “Says at the top From R, so I’m guessing Rodriguez.” He skimmed the note, and then cleared his throat, reading aloud, “Sorry for dropping in, but being watched. I have secured a safe house at the following address…” He flipped over the page and saw a hand-drawn map with the location circled. “Getting into town will be trickier,” he continued. “They will need to secure one of our SUVs, and today is the only opening. When I arrive, I will send a scout to the next highway cutoff. Someone will need to go with them and take them out. Whoever goes, must remain until the next group comes through. A decoy vehicle must be left and burned out, simulating a crash. It is imperative that our vehicle is undamaged so that it can fall in line tomorrow and join the caravan back into town. I will send multiple vehicles out in the morning with the instruction to rendezvous back in Fabens at sundown to head back to El Paso. Further details and instructions will be left at the safe house. Good luck.”

The group looked around at each other for a few moments.

“Well, this day just got a whole lot more difficult,” Rufus muttered, running a hand over his hair.

Leon folded up the map to the safe house and held it out to Clara. “You need to go, now,” he instructed. “Get to Fort Davis and get them clued in.”

“What about the scout on the bridge?” she asked, taking the paper hesitantly.

Leon shook his head. “Won’t be an issue,” he replied. “Rodriguez told them to expect vehicles coming and going this week.”

“Still, I’d keep one eye on the rearview,” Rufus added.

Trenton raised a hand. “Or, I could go with her.”

“No, the fewer people we send out, the less suspicion we’re going to arise,” Leon replied, shaking his head. “Now get moving before they get here this morning.”

Clara nodded and bolted out the door, off to find a car and get to the interstate before Rodriguez and the Cartel crew arrived. As she left, Jeff entered, panting from running from home.

“What I miss?” he asked as he watched the young woman take off.

“Rufus, can you fill him in?” Leon asked. “The satellite should be coming over any minute.” He fired up the computer as the older man took Jeff aside and explained the situation.

Ethel approached with a tray of mugs, and everyone took one as the computer sprang to life.

“Okay, I guess I’ll be that guy,” Trenton finally said as everyone was sipping their hot brew. “Who are we sending to hijack the SUV?”

Leon whirled around in his office chair. “Rufus is too old, and I can’t leave town,” he said slowly, “so that leaves you, Jeff, and Sparks.”

“It’s gonna be me,” the redhead said immediately.

Trenton’s brow furrowed, and his shoulders straightened a little. “It’s okay, I can do it,” he insisted.

She shook her head. “No, you really can’t,” she replied.

“Hey, I’ve been out here surviving just like you for the past month,” he shot back, unable to keep the petulance from his tone.

“And if this was a you versus zombies situation, you might have a point,” she snapped. “Tell me, how many men have you killed?”

He blinked at her, and then swallowed hard, blushing and wringing his hands in front of him. “I uh… I mean…”

“I’ll take that as none,” she cut in, crossing her arms. “I on the other hand have lost count of the number of lives that I have been forced to take over the last few weeks. I’m already haunted by it, and that’s not something that you need to have in your life.”

The younger man’s gaze softened, and he let out a deep breath, stepping back. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“We’re up,” Leon said as the computer screen flickered on, showing a satellite view of Fort Stockton. He scanned the area around it, honing in on the interstate.

The horde was as long as ever, stretching almost back into the edges of town.

“I swear it looks like it’s grown,” Trenton breathed, “despite what we did yesterday.”

Leon took a deep breath. “Well, let’s see what we did yesterday,” he said.

He adjusted the camera, focusing in on the highway to the west. It took him a few moments to locate the mass, since it was only a few thousand strong, but he finally found it.

“Looks like a blip compared to the main group,” he murmured.

Jeff took a loud slurp of his coffee and then leaned in. “What about the other highway group?” he asked.

“Does it matter?” Leon replied with a shrug. “It’s gonna be minimal at best.”

“Matters to me,” the skinhead insisted. “There’s a building a few miles up that had some survivors in it.”

“And you want to check on them,” Leon continued, nodding. “I’m tracking.” He adjusted the camera and moved it up the highway leading to the north. After a few moments, he found the mini-horde. Most of the ghouls had moved past the building, although it appeared a small handful had stuck around. “Looks like they’re pretty much in the clear,” he said, “assuming they didn’t bolt.”

“They were some stubborn old timers,” Jeff replied with a chuckle, “they weren’t going anywhere.”

“Can you check where I’m going today?” Sparks piped up.

Leon began to move the camera, and Rufus blinked at her.

“And just where are you going?” he asked, having missed the conversation while getting Jeff up to date.

She stared up at him defiantly. “I’m running the mission to get the SUV,” she declared.

“Bull fucking shit you are,” he snapped, clenching his fists.

Sparks reached up and took his arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You know I’m the best person for the job,” she replied gently. “And if we’re going to pull this off, we all have to do what we have to do.”

He ran a hand down her cheek, jaw clenched, but finally gave a begrudging nod. “Dammit,” he muttered. “I hate when you’re right.” He kissed the top of her head.

“Well sorry to disappoint you,” she said as she looked up at him, “but you’re going to have to deal with that for a long time, because I plan on being right for quite a while.”

He smiled and pulled her against him, resting his hand on her hip as they turned back to the monitor.

Leon isolated the area to the north of the interstate, focusing in on an incredibly small town. “This is going to have to be your ambush point,” he said, and zoomed in really tight. A few zombies moved about, little black dots in the streets. “You’re going to have some company as well,” he added.

“Doesn’t look like too many,” Sparks said, “so shouldn’t be that difficult.”

Rufus pulled away from her to knock on the wooden desk with three quick raps.

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Thanks,” she said wryly.

“Just doing my part,” he replied, taking a long sip of his coffee.

“Chances are that Hammond and his team will pick that spot for the meetup,” Leon continued. “Or ambush, I guess.”

Rufus shook his head. “Would have been nice if we had time to coordinate with them,” he said. “Not a fan of all this assuming, especially when it comes to a potential firefight.”

“Not going to come to that,” Sparks cut in. “It’s just going to be me and the driver, and he’ll never see me coming.”

Leon moved the camera back to Van Horn, hitting the screenshot button several times before the satellite went out of range.

“What was that for?” Jeff asked.

“It’s not going to take the whole crew to pull zombies off of the interstate today,” Leon explained, “so I figured we could get a jump on prepping Van Horn.”

Trenton let out a deep breath. “Now there’s something I can handle,” he said, leaning forward. “What’s the focus?”

“We need something different for Van Horn,” Leon replied. “Scout it out, see if anything sparks an idea. Just make sure it can be done in a couple of days, because I don’t know how much more we’re going to be able to slow these things down.”

Rufus rubbed his chin. “Rodriguez said he was going to bring some audio equipment so we can set up automated distraction points on the interstate,” he pointed out. “It’s going to be minimal, but it might buy us a few hours.”

“Better than nothing I suppose,” Jeff said.

“He should be here soon,” Leon said, getting to his feet. “We should get ready to move.”

There were begrudging nods all around, and they downed the last of their coffee and bid Ethel goodbye before getting prepped for another day.

CHAPTER TWO

The group waited outside of the command center as two trucks and three SUVs pulled up. Angel and Rodriguez hopped out of the first two vehicles, with nearly a dozen other Cartel members doing the same.

The two leaders walked over to Leon who had stepped apart from his group.

“Morning,” Rodriguez greeted, clasping his hands in front of him.

Leon inclined his head to him, keeping his face a stoic mask. “Rodriguez,” he said.

“Have you been able to survey our actions from yesterday?” the Cartel member asked.

Leon nodded. “Minimal success,” he replied. “The zombies you managed to pull away from the main horde are still moving away.”

“And the horde?” Rodriguez asked.

“Marching just as fast, if not faster,” Leon replied with a sigh. “We’re projecting them to reach the next highway turnoff this evening.”

Rodriguez tilted his head back and forth. “Despite what appears to be a failure, we did learn a lot about the enemy,” he said. He snapped his fingers, prompting one of his men to reach into an SUV and pull out a speaker. “We worked through the night to create several dozen of these contraptions. Solar powered speakers with a noise generator. One click of a button and we have a distraction set up. Might not pull many off of the road, but every one that leaves the horde is one less we have to deal with.”

“I agree,” Leon said with a nod. “So how do you want to do this?”

“I think we should focus our efforts between Van Horn and the next highway,” Rodriguez suggested.

Leon cocked his head. “What about the highway itself?” he asked. “Could be a good opportunity to divert a few thousand more.”

“Agreed,” Rodriguez said with a nod. “But what does the satellite say?”

“Wasn’t able to get a whole lot before my time ran out,” Leon admitted. “I was more concerned with how yesterday went and what Van Horn looks like.”

The Cartel member pursed his lips, contemplating for a moment. “Javier,” he said.

“Yes, boss?” the younger man asked, stepping forward.

“Take someone from Leon’s group to go scout the highway turnoff,” Rodriguez said.

“Right away,” Javier said.

Trenton froze, his gut twisting. Before he could stop himself, he cried, “No!”

Everyone turned to him with looks of shock and confusion, especially Leon and Rodriguez, glaring daggers at him for potentially exposing their plan.

“I… I need Javier today,” Trenton stammered, fighting the urge to wring his hands. “We worked really well together against those things yesterday. And if I’m going to get a full scouting report on Van Horn, I could use some competent backup.”

Rodriguez ran his tongue over his teeth, murder in his stare at the young man. “Very well,” he finally gritted out. “Javier, you’re with Trenton today.” He paused and glanced over his shoulder. “Carlos, you’re on highway duty.”

“Sparks, why don’t you go with him?” Leon piped up, before anyone else could interrupt. “You’re going to have to blow through Van Horn since we can’t do the roundabout, so if there’s any trouble, then you can handle it.”

The redhead nodded. “Works for me,” she said, and headed over to Carlos, who stared at her like she was diseased. She extended a hand to him, but he didn’t move a muscle to shake it.

She shrugged and they headed off towards one of the vehicles.

“Juan, Antonio, go with them,” Angel suddenly said.

The two beefy lunatics didn’t speak, simply grunted in response and headed after Sparks and Carlos.

“Ignore that order,” Rodriguez snapped.

Angel sneered at him, whirling on the older man. “Is there some reason you don’t want them to go?” he demanded. “Huh?”

“It’s not necessary that they go,” Rodriguez replied coolly, “and there’s a lot more work to be done.”

“Your bitch buddy here made a good point,” Angel snarled, pointing a finger at Leon. “They’re going to have to go through Van Horn, which could be dangerous. Having these two along for the ride will eliminate any threat they may come across.” He spread his arms. “And besides, all we’re doing today is putting out speakers, and we have more than enough men to do that. So I’ll ask you again. Is there some reason you don’t want them to go?”

Rodriguez stared him down. His hands were tied. Sparks would have a hell of a time with all three men, but if he pressed the issue Angel would catch on to what they were doing, and the whole plan would fall apart.

“Fine,” he said, waving his hand casually. “Scout it out and head back. I’ll rendezvous with you in four hours. Head two miles west of the highway exit when you’re done.”

Carlos nodded and the four of them headed to the SUV. Sparks walked ahead of the two beasts, and reached the back passenger door. As she opened it, Antonio put his hand against the window and slammed the door closed.

She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow and struggling to keep her expression neutral. He stepped over to the front passenger door and opened it, motioning for her to get inside.

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t allow a lady to ride shotgun?” he asked with a sneer.

She hesitated for a second, but shoved away her fear and offered him a big smile. “Thank you, I appreciate the gesture,” she said, and hopped up into the seat.

Antonio closed the door for her and then the rest of them got in before Carlos hit the gas, the SUV speeding off into the distance. Rufus watched it go, every muscle in his body clenched, struggling to keep his worry below the surface.

“Anything else I should know?” Rodriguez asked.

Leon nodded. “Next satellite pass is in a few hours, and Ethel just made a fresh pot.”

“It would be impolite if I didn’t say hello,” Rodriguez replied with a smile.

The two men headed for the command center, and at the sound of Angel following, they stopped and glanced back at him.

“We may have a full plate today,” Leon drawled, “but I guarantee you that I can make room for a quick ass kicking.”

Angel jutted out his chin and grunted before spinning around, eyes blazing at his men trying to hold in their laughter. “Get mounted up, we have work to do!” he bellowed, and everyone scattered to get to work on their assigned tasks for the day.

CHAPTER THREE

Clara pulled up to the radio building in Marfa, rushing inside quickly to find it. She hit the button and started speaking rapidly.

“Andrew, come in, it’s Clara,” she gushed. “Do you copy?” After a few moments of silence, she shrieked, “Andrew, do you copy?!”

“Everything okay?” he finally came back.

“No, it’s not,” she replied, trying to control her voice. “I need to talk to you and our mutual friends.”

There was a moment of silence. “Are you alone?” Andrew asked.

“Yeah, it’s just me,” she replied.

“All right,” he said, “I’ll send a car down.”

The line clicked off and she wandered outside, standing by her vehicle to wait. She looked around at the empty town, marveling at all the lives that had been snuffed out that would have called his place home.

Before her mood could suck her into a depressive episode, she spotted a truck tear around the corner a few blocks down, and sped up to her, screeching to a stop. The passenger side window opened, and a large cowboy leaned over from the driver’s seat.

“Well come on then,” he drawled, “time’s a wastin’.”

Clara hopped in and he punched the gas.

The drive up to Fort Davis was a relatively short one, about fifteen minutes given how fast the cowboy handled the truck. They sat in silence for most of the drive, Clara staring out the window at the nothingness that surrounded them.

A few miles out from town, the driver took a deep breath. “Just so you’re aware,” he said, “there may be some people in town who aren’t going to treat you too kindly.”

“What?” she asked, brow furrowing. “Why’s that?”

He tilted his head back and forth. “Well… there’s a certain contingent of folks who think we should just handle our own business and stay out of the El Paso affair,” he explained slowly. “They don’t think it can lead to anythin’ good, and a few of them have become real vocal when Andrew allowed your military friends to move in.”

“Are they dangerous?” Clara asked, folding her hands in her lap.

He shook his head immediately. “Nah, not really,” he replied. “At least not yet. That may change if things go south.”

There was another tense moment of silence before Clara sighed.

“So, what do you think about it?” she asked, side-glancing him.

“You want the truth?” he drawled.

She cocked her head. “Only way you could offend me is by lying to me,” she assured him. “So, what do you think?”

“I think we could do just fine on our own,” he admitted. “I also think sheltering the military boys puts us all at risk. However, I respect that you put your own ass on the line to make sure we were informed of what’s heading our way. So you’re okay in my book.”

She nodded. “I appreciate the honesty,” she said sincerely. “If it’ll put your mind at ease, the military will be gone tomorrow. My injured friend and his wife will be with you a little longer, though.”

“Ricky and Mary?” he asked with a chuckle. “I like them. He’s a bit of a live wire, ain’t he?”

Clara laughed. “Yeah, you should see him when he isn’t wounded,” she said. She figured a white lie would be a lot easier than explaining that she’d only met Ricky and Mary a week ago. These people were already doing her a huge favor, and she didn’t want to do anything to mess that up.

The vehicle came around a corner, revealing the town of Fort Davis. The entire community looked like it could fit inside a football stadium, stretching out only a handful of blocks in both directions from the main road. Everything looked like it was in a dust storm, desert terrain everywhere.

As they approached the town, there was a large block in the middle of the road made out of cars with metal sheeting welded to the side. The driver honked the horn loudly, and a driver inside one of the cars moved aside to make a gap for the truck to pass through.

Clara was in awe of the community inside as they rolled through. People in yards worked on fortifications, kids played catch, even someone rode a bicycle carrying a giant picnic basket full of snacks and bottled water for people.

“Looks like this town is thriving,” she breathed.

The driver shook his head. “Not sure thriving is the right word, but we are holding our own,” he admitted. “Usually things aren’t this busy, but with the current threat and all, people want to take precautions.”

“With any luck we’ll prevent that from happening,” Clara replied firmly.

He nodded as he drove through town. After a few blocks, he pulled over at a house on the corner, quite a ways away from all of the other activity.

“Here you go,” he said, “your friends are in there. I’m going to go pick up Andrew and bring him by here in a bit.”

She offered him a smile. “I appreciate the lift,” she said. “And your honesty.”

He inclined his head towards her and she got out. She watched the truck speed away and then headed towards the house.

Before she could reach the door, it opened, and Whitaker stood there, a hand on her hip.

“Was wondering when you’d make it up here,” the soldier said. “You have news?”

“Yep,” Clara replied with a nod. “We’re in business.”

Whitaker let her inside, revealing Hammond and Landry lounging around in the living room with their feet propped up, magazines in hand.

“Look alive boys, we have company,” Whitaker barked.

Both men looked up and their eyes lit up at the sight of Clara. They tossed the magazines aside and leapt to their feet.

“If you’re here, then it can mean only one thing!” Landry exclaimed. “It’s time to go get our boy!”

Clara raised an eyebrow. “What? I can’t just come visit?” she asked. At his concerned expression, she raised a hand. “But yes, we have a plan of sorts.”

Hammond crossed his arms. “Of sorts?” he asked.

“Rodriguez has a safe house set up for you,” she explained, handing over the map. “But getting in is going to be tricky.”

Whitaker approached Hammond as he unfolded the map. “How tricky?” she asked.

“In a nutshell, you’re going to have to hijack one of their SUVs, blow up a decoy so they don’t get suspicious, and then sneak into a caravan as it leaves Fabens tomorrow night at sundown,” Clara rattled off.

The three soldiers shared glances, none of them speaking, and she watched the nonverbal conversation before they finally all nodded and smiled.

“This is going to be a cakewalk,” Landry declared, raising a fist.

Whitaker rolled her eyes. “Wouldn’t go that far,” she scoffed.

“What, are you kidding?” he shot back. “All we have to do is grab an SUV and drive? If we can’t pull that off we might as well retire from the military.”

Hammond shook his head. “Technically we’re already retired, but I get your point,” he said, and then looked to Clara. “Where are we supposed to get the SUV from?” he asked.

“North of the interstate here,” she replied, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “Rodriguez is going to send a scout with one of our own to check out the diversion area to make sure it’s safe. Just need to ambush them and take the vehicle in one piece. Oh, and leave a burned out one in its place.”

“Okay, let’s get a move on,” Hammond barked, clapping his hands together. “Whitaker, I saw an SUV with a for sale sign in front of a house a few blocks to the east. Since it's still there I’m going to assume the owner is dead, so go purchase it.”

She nodded. “On it, Sarge,” she said, and headed to grab her gear.

“Landry, get our weapons prepped,” Hammond continued. “This sounds like a walk in the park, but the last time we thought that, we ended up in a war against that shitty Silver City Gang. We need to be prepared for anything.”

The Private darted away, heading into the bedroom to do his job. Whitaker reached the front door with a duffel bag in her hand and threw it open, leaping back when Andrew stood on the other side, hand raised to knock.

“Sorry ma’am,” he drawled, “didn’t mean to scare you, there.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re good,” she replied, “just caught me off guard is all.”

“Going somewhere?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, just need to borrow a vehicle,” she explained, “so I’ll be right back.”

He offered a smile. “Well, before you go, I’d appreciate it if you could hear me out real quick,” he said.

She paused, and glanced back at Hammond. At his nod, she stepped aside and let Andrew in, closing the door behind him.

“Clara, good to see you again,” the cowboy said. “I trust your trip was uneventful?”

She shrugged. “Just another day of driving through the desert,” she replied.

“Good to hear,” he said, inclining his head towards her. “So, my driver tells me that you’re not going to be with us much longer,” he said, turning to Hammond. “Is that true?”

“Afraid so,” the Sergeant replied. “We will be out of your hair tomorrow. And we can’t thank you enough for the hospitality you’ve shown us, especially when you didn’t have to take us in at all.”

Andrew nodded. “It’s our pleasure,” he said. “Clara vouched for you, which was good enough in my book. That said, we could use your help today.”

“If we can,” Hammond replied.

The cowboy waved a hand. “There is a turnoff about a mile south of the interstate, a few miles north of here,” he explained. “I’ve had my people make some fortifications there to combat any zombies that come our way. But when the time comes, I would feel a whole lot better if you were there. My people can handle a lot, but I get the sense you three can handle a whole hell of a lot more.”

The Sergeant looked at his soldiers, and they both gave sharp nods.

“Whitaker, can you handle the pickup?” he asked.

She raised a hand. “Won’t take me any time at all.”

“Good, get moving,” he said, and she offered Andrew a smile before heading out. “If you want to get your driver, Landry and I will head up to the barricade and see if we can’t devise some sort of worst case scenario plan.”

“I appreciate that,” Andrew replied. “He’s waiting outside for you.”

“We good to go?” the Sergeant asked.

Landry grinned. “Locked and loaded, Sarge.”

“Let’s get moving, then,” Hammond said, and then paused, reaching out and putting a hand on Clara’s shoulder. “Thank you for this.”

She smiled back at him. “You just make sure you bring Mathis home.”

“I can promise you that,” the Sergeant replied, and then followed Landry outside.

“So, what are your plans?” Andrew asked. “You are more than welcome to stay in town with us until the immediate threat passes.”

Clara shook her head. “I need to get back to Fabens,” she said. “Don’t want to raise suspicion.”

“Come on, I’ll give you a lift myself,” he replied, waving for her to follow him.

They headed outside and hopped into a pickup truck on the side of the road a few houses down. Once they were speeding down the highway, Andrew took a deep breath.

“So level with me,” he said, “how bad is it out there?”

She sighed. “It’s bad,” she admitted. “Despite our best efforts, we only slowed them down by a couple of hours. Only managed to peel off a few thousand of them, as well. I’m beginning to have real concerns about whether or not we’re going to survive this.”

“I’m trying to keep my people optimistic,” he said, shaking his head. “That we’ll be able to hold off whatever comes our way, but if I’m hearing you right, I should be concerned.”

She chewed her bottom lip for a moment. “The first exit we encountered this horde at had a small town about a mile away from it,” she said quietly. “Within hours, the entire town was overrun. If they start coming your way, you do whatever you have to do in order to stop them.”

He swallowed hard, finally nodding, and the two fell silent for the rest of the drive back to Marfa.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Carlos drove the SUV off of the interstate, making the turn to the north.

“How much time do we have?” Antonio asked from the backseat.

Sparks checked her watch. “Three hours until we meet up with them,” she replied.

“Good,” Antonio said with a nod. “Plenty of time to check this place out.”

She stared out the window, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach. She was unsure of what awaited them up ahead. She hoped that whoever in the military group that was waiting for them had the good sense to wait for the best moment to launch the ambush.

The drive up to the small town area didn’t take very long, no more than a few minutes. Everyone kept their eyes peeled for zombies, but outside of the occasional one stuck in roadside barbed wire, it was a whole lot of nothing.

The town area was minimal, only about four short blocks of buildings with a single row of storefronts. There were a few blocks of houses on the other side of things. If the population was over a hundred, Sparks would have been shocked.

“Park over there,” Antonio instructed, pointing.

Carlos pulled over and the four of them got out of the car. Sparks wandered around to the front of the vehicle, looking down the street at about a dozen zombies shambling their way from in front of a store near the edge of town.

“We have some company,” she said, and then glanced back at the sound of metallic clanging from behind her.

Juan and Antonio stood there, each brandishing two machetes, one in each hand. They stared straight ahead, surveying the threat that was about forty yards away and closing.

She raised an eyebrow, unable to keep from noticing that the top of her head only reached their shoulders.

“Don’t worry, we shall give them a proper welcome,” Juan declared.

Sparks shrugged. “If you want them, have at it,” she said, motioning to the mini-horde. “I’ll start scoping out the rest of town.”

Antonio turned to Carlos, eyes blazing with warning. “If you’re not with her when we get back,” he said, voice cold, “we’ll make you wish you were.”

He swallowed hard beneath the threat, and then turned to Sparks. “Lead the way,” he said.

She wandered around the back of the SUV with her companion in tow. There was an alley about ten yards up that cut across to the next street. As they approached, she peeked back to see the two hulking lunatics hack-and-slashing at the zombies.

One right after the other fell violently, catching machetes to the head before being kicked to the ground. The duo worked in concert with each other, taking turns delivering the killing blow to the ghouls.

Sparks couldn’t help but be impressed by what she saw, followed by concern knowing that she was going to have to face off against them soon enough.

First things first, though. She led Carlos down the alley, about a quarter of the way down when a couple of ghouls appeared at the far end and started working their way towards them.

Sparks drew her knife, and then glanced at her companion who was weaponless. “Do you not have a knife?” she asked.

“I do,” he said slowly, avoiding her gaze, “but I’m not very good with it.”

She shook her head. “Well, you’d better get good with it.” She motioned towards the creeping ghouls, and then took a step forward.

Carlos was close behind her, and she attacked the first one by shoving it in the chest. It stumbled back into one of its friends, and Sparks took the opportunity to plant her foot and kick off, slamming her blade down into the zombie’s skull.

As that one fell silent, she pressed hard, pinning the other against the wall. It thrashed violently, and she struggled to hold it in place.

“Stab it already!” she cried.

Carlos finally rushed up, flailing wildly with his knife. His first attempt to take out the ghoul ended with the blade piercing its cheek, which did nothing to it. He tried again, this time missing entirely and cutting the bridge of its nose.

“You miss one more time and we’re switching places,” Sparks growled.

The threat motivated him, and he took a brief moment to aim before finally jamming the knife into the ghoul’s ear. It convulsed for a moment before falling limp.

Sparks let go, dropping both corpses to the ground, ripping her knife from the first one’s head.

He looked at her sheepishly, and she pursed her lips before shaking her head.

“Come on,” she said, “let’s check out the next street.”

She led him down the alley, and peeked around the corner to look for trouble around the end. Both directions were empty, not a single moving creature.

“Looks like a whole lot of nothing,” she murmured.

As she turned back, Carlos peeked out, and then headed over to a corpse laying face down on the ground about thirty yards away.

“What are you doing?” she hissed. “Let’s head back to the others.”

“There’s a body over here,” he said.

Sparks sighed. “It’s a zombie apocalypse,” she said. “There are bodies everywhere.”

He didn’t listen, continuing to approach the corpse. He stared down at it, and then looked back at her, still standing at the corner.

“You gotta see this,” he said.

She threw her hands up. “I’ve seen dead zombies before,” she insisted.

“Just come here,” he urged, sounding irritated.

She sighed again, and then sauntered over, and looked at the head wound he was pointing at that was still oozing blood.

“Someone is here,” he declared.

Sparks’ heart rate tripled, but she knew she needed to downplay this. “Look around,” she spread her arms, keeping her voice level. “Nobody has been here for weeks.”

“I’m telling you,” he said firmly, “someone is here.”

“Even if there is,” she shot back, “they aren’t going to be for very long once we bring thousands of those things through here.”

He whirled on her, looking like he was about to forcefully state his case, when a gunshot rang out.

Both of them jumped, whirling towards the main road.

“It’s probably just those two maniacs having some fun,” Sparks said.

Carlos narrowed his eyes, and she could almost feel the suspicion rolling off of him. Before he could say anything, there was a torrent of gunfire, and then he took off like a shot.

Sparks moved to follow him, but she tripped over the fallen ghoul, throwing out her hands to keep herself from face planting into the pavement. When she straightened up, he was almost all the way down the alley.

“Shit,” she muttered, and raced towards him, pumping her legs hard.

The gunfire continued unabated, multiple shots being fired. When she reached the end of the alley, she popped around the corner just in time to see Carlos emerging from the rear of the SUV holding an assault rifle. She quickly scanned the battlefield to get a lay of the land.

To her left were the two Cartel psychopaths that had taken up position behind two large wooden posts outside a store. To her right was Whitaker, who was firing from an entrenched position inside a store.

Carlos spotted Whitaker and moved to the same side of the street as Juan and Antonio, putting himself in a flanking position to get an angled shot at the soldier.

Sparks knew she didn’t have a choice. She leapt into action, rushing towards him. He was twenty yards away and kneeling down to get a proper shot. She tried to close the gap quickly—he could fire at any moment.

When she was ten yards away, she saw his shoulders tighten, and realized that he had Whitaker in his sights. She whipped her knife at him, end over end, as she continued to run.

It wasn’t a precise throw—nor was it meant to be. Even under the best circumstances, Sparks would have had trouble delivering a kill shot with a knife from ten yards. But as the knife broadsided him, it did its job, which was to stun him for a brief moment.

Carlos glanced back just in time to see Sparks closing in on him. He tried to adjust his aim, but she was too quick, leaping and delivering a knee strike to his face.

“What the fuck, bitch?!” he cried as he fell to the ground, nose shattered. He glared up at her, realization dawning on his face, and he spot blood onto the concrete before drawing his knife and getting to his feet, swiping at her.

Sparks leapt back, avoiding the blade. As he came in for a straight jab, she darted out of the way and grabbed his wrist, using the momentum to fling him forward. As he stumbled forward a few steps, she grabbed her knife.

As soon as he turned around, she drove it into his shoulder, causing him to scream and flail. He managed to cut her cheek and she leapt back, wiping at it as he staggered, seemingly unable to move his wounded arm.

“You bitch,” he spat, and then screamed, tearing towards her in a rage-filled attack.

Sparks didn’t move, waiting for her moment to deliver a forceful straight kick to his chest while avoiding the knife. He smacked back onto the ground with a grunt.

She hopped on top of him, her knees on his arms, and grabbed his ears, smacking his skull into the pavement. The first crack stunned him, causing him to drop the knife. The second crack sent a splatter of blood across the ground. The third, fourth, and fifth cracks completely caved in the back of his head, and he fell limp.

Sparks gave him one more just for good measure, and then got up.

The gunfire in the distance continued as she ran over to grab the assault rifle. She gave it a quick check to make sure it was ready to go before creeping up the sidewalk towards Juan and Antonio’s position.

When she got within twenty yards of them, she made eye contact with Whitaker and they shared a nod.

The gunfire coming from the duo’s position was intense and sustained. She didn’t see them leave the vehicle with rifles, so she assumed they were using handguns. Knowing how crazy they were, she had no idea how many magazines they were carrying.

As she reached the edge of the building, she stood behind a recessed pillar a few yards off from the street. It was difficult to see them, although she could see their shadows moving.

Sparks took a deep breath before coming around the corner, darting into position so she had them in her sights.

“Put it down, now!” she barked.

Both men paused, and then glanced back at her. They looked at each other, and then back at her.

“So the shooter is with you?” Antonio asked.

She nodded sharply. “Yep, afraid so.”

“What of Carlos?” he shot back.

“Had to kill him,” she replied with a sigh. “Wasn’t my first choice, but what we’re doing needs to be done, and I’m not letting anybody stand in the way.”

Juan cocked his head. “And what exactly are you doing?” he asked.

“We’re taking out Tiago Rivas,” Sparks said.

The men exchanged another glance, and then nodded.

“So, you’re working with Rodriguez?” Antonio asked.

The redhead’s blood ran cold. “What makes you say that?” she demanded.

“We had a suspicion he had a hand in the assassination attempt,” Juan explained.

“But no way to prove it,” Antonio added.

Juan grinned. “Until now, that is.”

Antonio ducked to the ground, and Juan turned and quickly fired towards Sparks. She managed to roll around the pillar, firing as she did, but missing.

Antonio leapt forward, catching her in the gun and ramming her into the glass behind them. Their combined weight sent them crashing through it, landing hard on the floor. He ended up on top, Sparks dazed from the hard landing.

He punched down, catching her in the face, but missed the second as she rolled out of the way. He cried out in pain as his fist connected with the floor.

Sparks grabbed a shard of glass from the broken window, and jammed it into the side of his leg, leaving it wedged in there. He screamed and reached for it, giving her a chance to snatch up another shard and bury it in his side.

Antonio rolled off of her, and she shoved him into his back. As she pulled herself from the ground, she spotted Juan approaching from the outside, gun raised. Her heart seemed to stop as she stared down that barrel, and her breath caught in her throat as he smirked at her.

A barrage of bullets cracked, and Juan pitched forward, falling to the ground and revealing Whitaker behind him from across the street.

Sparks nodded at her, and then whipped around at the sound of shuffling. Antonio staggered to his feet, holding the shard from his leg, and extended it, blood running down his hand.

“You’re going to pay for this,” he hissed.

She shrugged. “Unlikely.”

He screamed and rushed her, bringing the glass down in a wide, sloppy arc. Sparks ducked and darted to the side, punching him in the side of the head as she came around. Before he could even register it, she kicked out the side of his knee, dropping him to the ground.

She took a short step back, and then delivered a forceful straight kick into his face, sending him crashing down into the broken glass. He twitched and moaned, and she raised her hands, preparing to strike again as he struggled to sit up.

“Damn girl, you okay?” Whitaker asked as she stepped through the broken window, gun aimed at the Cartel member.

Sparks nodded, shoulders relaxing. “Yeah, I’ve had worse,” she said.

Antonio snarled. “You’re gonna have worse when I’m done wi—”

Whitaker popped a bullet into his knee to cut him off, and he shrieked, curling around his legs.

“We’re talking here, wait your turn,” the soldier snapped, and turned to Sparks. “Anything you want to ask him?”

The redhead stared him down. “Who else knows about Rodriguez?” she asked.

Antonio stared her down, saying nothing.

Whitaker cocked her head. “You can talk now.”

“Fuck you,” he spat, breathing ragged.

She pulled the trigger again, sending a round into his ankle and sending him into another pain-filled rage fit. “Just so you know, I have three more mags and a couple of hours before I have to be anywhere,” she said calmly. “Use that information however you like.”

“Again,” Sparks continued, “who else knows about Rodriguez?”

Antonio hissed and took in a deep gasping breath. “No one knows for sure,” he bit out. “Just a lot of suspicion like us.”

“What about Tiago and Angel?” she pressed.

“You’ll never convince them otherwise that Rodriguez isn’t involved,” he replied, managing to smirk through the pain.

Sparks sighed. “Figured as much,” she said. “Which is why we’re going to deal with them.”

“Good luck with that,” he said with a sneer. “That didn’t work out so well for your friend, now did it?”

Whitaker pumped another few rounds into his legs, and he shrieked and writhed, flopping back onto the floor.

“Free advice,” the soldier snapped, “don’t mention my friend ever again.” She looked over at Sparks. “You got anything else for him?”

The redhead shook her head. “Nah, I’m good,” she replied.

Whitaker aimed and fired one more shot, hitting Antonio in the face and dropping him permanently. Sparks looked down at her arms, finding numerous shallow cuts from rolling around on the glass. She headed for a rack of t-shirts and pulled one down, tearing it into strips to use as a bandage.

“That my SUV up the road?” the soldier asked.

“Yeah, keys should be in it,” Sparks replied. “Though if you want to do me a favor, can you pump a few rounds into the corpse up there? My story is going to be easier to sell if he’s bullet ridden.”

Whitaker nodded. “Consider it done,” she said. “Although before I go, I have a question.”

“Sure,” Sparks replied as she wound the soft cotton fabric around her arms.

“Why didn’t you just open fire on these assholes?” the soldier asked. “Not like you to hesitate.”

The redhead sighed. “I thought we could turn them to our side,” she admitted. At the sight of Whitaker’s raised eyebrows, she held up her palms. “Yeah, I know, it was stupid,” she said. “But after talking with Rodriguez yesterday, he made it sound like these guys weren’t loyal to Tiago. And while I have the utmost confidence in you guys, it remains to be seen if Rodriguez can manufacture another shot at Tiago for you. So I was just trying to prepare on the off chance that didn’t happen.”

Whitaker nodded slowly. “I can understand that, but still,” she said.

“Trust me, I know,” Sparks replied with another deep sigh. “Not going to be making that mistake again.”

The soldier cocked her head. “So what else do you need from me?” she asked.

“Nothing I can think of, outside of dragging that other son of a bitch in here,” Sparks said. “Then, just going to set fire to the building and the SUV you came in before taking it easy and waiting for pickup.”

They headed outside, stepping through the broken window to get the other corpse.

“You know, after we survive this,” Whitaker said, “you and I need to grab Clara and Ethel and have a full-on girl’s night.”

Sparks’ brow furrowed in confusion. “You mean like drinking mimosas and doing each other’s nails type of girls night?” she asked dryly.

“Oh, fuck no,” Whitaker huffed as she grabbed Juan’s legs. “I mean a couple bottles of scotch while we play poker and talk shit about the guys.”

Sparks laughed as she grabbed his arms and they carried him into the store. “That makes a lot more sense,” she said.

They shared a laugh as they tossed the body down with Antonio’s. The redhead pulled out a lighter, grabbing another t-shirt from the rack. She casually lit it up and tossed it back onto the two dead men.

They wandered back outside as the fire started to spread, and the women shared a fist bump.

“All right girl,” Whitaker said, “I’ll see you in a few days.”

Sparks nodded and smirked. “I’ll make sure to procure us a few bottles of scotch.”

The soldier winked at her and jogged off, popping a few rounds into Carlos before speeding off in the SUV.

Sparks turned to watch the store go up in flames, sending huge plums of smoke into the air. She scanned the rest of the street, and spotted a small coffee shop a block down. She checked her watch.

“Well, I’ve got time,” she muttered to herself. “Guess I should get comfy.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Landry and Hammond helped fortify a makeshift barricade near the gas station on the highway, less than a mile south of the interstate that they could faintly see from their location.

The barricade wasn’t the best, just several cars pushed together with the tire shot out and reinforced with various debris. There were three other cowboys roaming around, unloading more debris from their trucks to put in front.

The soldiers stepped around to survey their work.

“Well, the good news is, this thing should hold off ten, maybe even twelve of those things long enough for us to kill them,” Landry drawled.

Hammon let out a humorless laugh. “And the bad news?” he asked.

“The odds of them coming in packs of twelve are about the same as a porn star riding over the horizon excited to see me,” Landry replied dryly.

An SUV appeared on the horizon, headed their way. Both soldiers paused, confused, staring as it approached.

Whitaker rolled down the window and leaned her elbow on it to look at them.

“Well, we dodged that bullet,” Hammond drawled, “because there is zero chance that she’s excited to see you.”

The men both burst into laughter, and she furrowed her brow.

“I miss something?” she asked.

The Sergeant shook his head. “Nothing you’d be thrilled about hearing.”

“Rather than press my luck, I’m going to move on,” Whitaker said.

Landry wiped fake tears from his eyes. “Probably for the best.”

“This the vehicle?” Hammond asked.

“Yep, primed and ready to go,” Whitaker replied, smacking the outside of the door. “Pretty sure there are a few weapons in the back too.”

Landry raised a fist. “I will never turn down free weapons,” he said.

“Any trouble?” Hammond asked.

“Bit of a firefight,” Whitaker explained, shaking her head. “Sparks got a little banged up, but she strikes me as the kind of girl that celebrates new scars.”

Landry grinned. “Starting to think she might be one of us.”

“You had doubts?” Hammond asked, raising an eyebrow.

The Private chuckled. “Well no, but this just solidifies it,” he said.

Whitaker sighed as she looked over the barricade. “That’s looking like a shitshow,” she said.

“How about instead of criticizing you start coming up with some solutions?” Landry joked, putting his hands on his hips.

Whitaker shook her head at him and pulled the SUV off of the road before getting out. She strolled over to her fellow soldiers, staring up the two lane road and cocking her head in thought.

“Why don’t you boys go check out the gas station?” she suggested. “See if you can’t find some containers for gas. I’ll take it from here.”

The men shrugged at each other, chuckling as they headed off for the gas station.

Whitaker glanced over at one of the workers, letting out a whistle. “Hey, cowboy,” she called.

He wandered over and tipped his ten-gallon hat at her. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Oh, polite, I like that,” she replied with a smile.

He straightened his shoulders. “My momma raised me right,” he declared.

“I can see that,” she replied with a nod. “So tell me, mister cowboy, do you have any barbed wire handy?”

He laughed. “Ma’am, this is rural Texas,” he drawled. “Asking a working cowboy if they have barbed wire handy is like asking a barbecue restaurant if they have brisket. That answer is always going to be yes.”

She smiled as he let out a loud whistle, gaining the attention of one of the other workers. He pointed to the truck behind the line and waved, signaling to have it brought over. A few moments later, the truck backed up to them.

Whitaker and the cowboy moved over to the bed and rummaged around, pushing various building materials out of the way, finally coming across a large spindle of barbed wire. The cowboy grabbed it and dragged it to the tailgate.

“Here you go, ma’am,” he said with a flourish, “top of the line stuff.”

Whitaker nodded. “How strong is it?” she asked.

“If you’re looking for a math answer, I’m not going to be of much use there,” he admitted. “But it’s strong enough to make a heifer think twice about pushing through it.”

“Good enough for me,” she replied with a nod, and then continued looking through the back of the truck.

The cowboy cocked his head. “Something else you need, ma’am?” he asked.

“Metal posts, something to drive them into the ground with,” Whitaker said slowly, “and some wire cutters.”

He nodded and tossed some of the materials aside. After a few moments, he pulled out the things she needed, as well as a set of thick work gloves. “If you’re going to be working with the barbed wire,” he said, holding them out, “I’d recommend these too.”

“Very kind of you,” she said, slipping them on.

“Now, if you’d like to fill me in on what you’re planning to use this stuff for,” he continued, hooking a thumb into his belt, “I can pull the boys off the barricade and give you a hand.” At her sharp look, he raised a palm. “Don’t get me wrong now, ma’am,” he said quickly, “I have no doubt you are fully capable of everything you intend on doing. However, since we are on the clock so to speak, I figured you might welcome some help to speed things along.”

Whitaker smirked at him. “You’re alright there, cowboy,” she said. “Your momma did raise you right. Get your buddies, because we have some work to do.”

The cowboy nodded and whistled, and two workers hurried over, and at his motion to Whitaker, looked to her.

“Okay gents,” she said, “this is what I need. I need posts on either side of the road so we can run the wire across. We’re going to double up to make sure they are secure. How many we got?”

“We’ve got eight, ma’am,” the cowboy replied.

She nodded. “That works. Give me one line on either side of the gas station,” she instructed. “I want half of the barbed wire on the barricade side of the station, a quarter on the interstate side, and the rest blocking off the gas station. There’s going to be a whole hell of a lot of pressure on this line, so you put it up how you see fit. That’s your area of expertise, not mine.”

The other two cowboys nodded and grabbed the gear, rushing off to work on the task. The one she’d been talking with stood there as he chewed over the instructions.

“So you’re going to try to herd them like cattle, huh?” he asked.

Whitaker nodded. “Herd them up and give us a last ditch contingency plan,” she replied.

“I don’t follow,” he said, brow furrowing.

“I’m hoping that we’re going to be able to hold them off with those two wire traps,” she explained. “Thin them out enough so we can fall back to the barricade you’ve built and finish them off. However, if there’s a lot more than we anticipate, or the barbed wire doesn’t hold, we can use the gas station to give us a chance.”

He glanced over at the station as Hammond and Landry wandered over with a bunch of empty containers. His eyes widened when he realized what she meant.

“Not sure Andrew is going to be too happy with that,” he said.

Whitaker sighed. “To be fair big fella, none of us are going to be happy if it comes to that,” she agreed. “That’ll mean we’re getting our asses handed to us. That’s why it’s a last resort.”

“I trust y’all will do the right thing,” the cowboy finally said. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go help them out so they don’t screw it up.”

She nodded. “I’ll be over in a minute to help,” she said.

The cowboy walked off to help the others as the soldiers approached.

“Looks like you got them working pretty good,” Hammond said.

Whitaker looked over the containers they’d brought, mostly glass beer bottles. “Don’t tell me you dumped those out?” she asked.

“Nah, they had a recycling area, if you can believe it,” Landry explained. “There’s a couple more six-packs worth in there if we need ‘em.”

“We will,” she said.

Hammond glanced over at the working cowboys. “You’re setting up a playpen, aren’t you?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“Yep,” she replied. “These things aren’t that bright, so they’ll march right into it.”

Hammond grinned. “All right, let’s get us some molotovs made,” he said, motioning to Landry.

The two of them headed over to the gas station to start filling bottles, and Whitaker looked up towards the interstate. She took a deep breath, knowing that within hours the view would be a lot more horrific.

CHAPTER SIX

Rodriguez and a Cartel member drove up the road from the interstate, heading towards the area where Sparks’ team had been sent. It had been an hour since they were supposed to check in, and there had been no contact.

“Miguel, get your gun ready,” Rodriguez said.

His partner raised an eyebrow. “Expecting trouble, boss?” he asked.

“They should have been back by now,” he replied. “I just don’t want to take any chances.”

Miguel reached into the back seat, grabbing an assault rifle and checking it to make sure it was ready. Rodriguez forced a worried look on his face and floored it.

When they grew closer to town, they spotted a plume of smoke in the distance.

“Boss, look,” Miguel gasped.

Rodriguez furrowed his brow. “What the hell is going on?” he breathed.

His partner chambered a round and rolled down his window. “Whatever it is, I’m going to handle it,” he declared.

They scanned the road when they reached the shopping area, and spotted Carlos lying dead next to a flaming SUV.

“Man down!” Miguel cried, and without waiting for instructions, bolted from the SUV and swept the area for hostiles. He reached Carlos, and at the sight of his chest full of bullet holes, let out a scream. “Come on out motherfuckers!” he bellowed. “You have me to deal with now!”

Rodriguez parked and got out, handgun at the ready. “Who is it?” he asked sternly.

“Looks like Carlos,” Miguel replied. “At least I think it is. Fucked his face all up.”

They turned towards the burning store a few blocks down, which was completely engulfed in flames. The two of them moved slowly towards it, keeping their guard up and scanning the area for movement. As they got a little closer, they could make out bodies of zombies that littered the street.

A few moments later, the door to a coffee shop a little ways down opened.

“Get in here!” Sparks hissed from the floor, her head sticking through the door.

The men were confused as they searched for the owner of the voice, finally finding her.

“Now!” she snapped.

They raced over to the coffee shop and ducked inside. She slammed the door and led them quickly behind some tables that she’d turned over on their side.

“What’s going on?” Rodriguez asked.

“Where are Juan and Antonio?” Miguel demanded.

Sparks shook her head, motioning towards the burning building with a defeated expression.

Miguel clenched his jaw, eyes blazing.

“What happened?” Rodriguez asked, voice calm and forceful as he put a hand on his partner’s shoulder to mellow him out.

“We pulled into town and didn’t see a whole lot going on,” Sparks began, swallowing hard. “Juan and Antonio went to clear out that small horde down the street while Carlos and I checked the next block up. We heard shots, a lot of them, and came running back. Carlos was ahead of me and got cut down.” She took a deep breath. “The other two were pinned down, but when I tried to help I got ambushed. I went through a glass window, and from there it’s a bit of a blur… just bullets and beatdowns. By the time the fog lifted, the fighting was over, the store over there was on fire, and I just took shelter.”

Rodriguez and Miguel shared a look, rage in their eyes.

“How many were there?” Rodriguez bit out, forcing extra malice into his voice.

Sparks shook her head. “Four, maybe five?” she rasped. “I’m not entirely sure.”

“Just give me the word boss, and I will hunt these bastards down,” Miguel growled.

Rodriguez let out a deep breath. “No, we don’t have time.”

“Don’t have time?!” his subordinate roared.

“The horde waits on no one,” Rodriguez shot back firmly. “Besides, what better revenge is there than to surround our enemies with something they can’t overcome? Let them sit and suffer as their life slowly drains.”

Miguel was still angry, but gave a begrudging nod. The trio worked their way to the door, and Sparks pressed herself against the frame.

“I’ll cover the right, if you can get the left,” she said, and Miguel nodded, hopping from foot to foot as if excited to get into the action.

“Don’t forget the rear,” Rodriguez added. “They could be on the roof.”

Both the others nodded and he put his hand on the doorknob. After a silent countdown, he threw open the door.

The trio sprinted outside, racing towards the SUV. Sparks and Miguel stayed vigilant, sweeping the area to the sides and scanning the rooftops for enemies. Rodriguez leapt into the SUV, firing it up, and as soon as the others were inside, Miguel raised his hand, whirling it in the air.

“We’re in, go!” he barked.

Rodriguez threw the SUV in reverse and hit the gas, sending the vehicle speeding back. When it reached a couple hundred yards away from the buildings, he cut the wheel hard, causing it to spin a hundred and eighty degrees. He quickly put it in drive, speeding back towards the interstate.

When they reached it, they looked east, seeing the front edge of the horde on the horizon.

“What is that, a mile?” Sparks asked, shaking her head.

Miguel nodded. “Maybe a little more,” he agreed. “Definitely not much more.”

“Come, we have much to do,” Rodriguez declared, and started driving again, pulling onto the road and heading up a mile to the meet up spot.

When they arrived, there were two vehicles on the side of the road. Angel stood outside with four other Cartel members, and he eyed them warily when his men emerged with only a bloodied Sparks.

“Where are the others?” he demanded.

“Dead,” Miguel replied, shaking his head.

Angel pushed away from the truck, stalking up to Sparks with fire in his eyes.

She didn’t react, though internally prepared herself for a fight, just in case.

“What the fuck did you do, bitch?!” he snarled.

Miguel growled. “They were ambushed.”

Angel glared at him, and the man visibly withered. “If I want you to speak, I’ll rip your head off and use it as a puppet,” he snapped.

Miguel took a step back, palms up.

Angel turned back to Sparks, leaning in so they were almost nose to nose. “What the fuck did you do?” he demanded.

“Like he said, we were ambushed,” she replied, motioning to Miguel. “I tried to help the others, but…” she held up her arms, showing off all of her cuts, “as you can see, it didn’t work out too well.”

Angel lashed out, grabbing her injured wrist, and opened his mouth to speak.

Before he could get out a single sound, she jerked her arm forward, and used his off-balance momentum to snatch the back of his collar and slam his face down onto the hood of the SUV. As he lay there in shock, she leaned down, lips close to his ear.

“You listen here motherfucker, you’re not pulling his macho bullshit on me,” she said, voice low and menacing. “This is your one warning, you ever touch me like that again, and I swear to all that is holy it will be the last thing you ever do. You got me?”

He groaned a bit as she smooshed his face harder into the hood. Two of the other Cartel members took a step towards them, but Rodriguez put up a hand to stop them.

After a moment, Angel finally nodded, cheek sticking to the hot fiberglass.

“Good,” Sparks snapped, and then jerked him off of the hood, throwing him down onto his ass.

One of the Cartel members moved to help him up, but he shoved his hands away.

“Get off me,” he huffed, and got to his feet. Face red and eyes on fire, he whirled around to his lackeys. “Get in your vehicles, we’re going to go find these ambushers!” he yelled. “Assuming they exist,” he threw back at Sparks.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Rodriguez said calmly.

Angel pointed a finger at him. “You aren’t going to stop me!”

Rodriguez stepped forward, and though his body looked relaxed, his voice was forceful. “You’re not going,” he said. “The horde is almost here, and I’m not going to have a hothead risk all of our lives.”

Angel jutted out his chin, staring up at him for a moment before finally letting out a huff. “Fine, if you want to do this all on your own, have at it,” he bit out. “I’ve done my job putting those speakers out.” He snapped his fingers and one of the Cartel members handed him a notebook. He shoved it into Rodriguez’ chest and then whirled on his heel. “That’s where they’re at,” he barked over his shoulder. “If you want anything else, then do it your damn self.” He jumped into the passenger seat of the truck, and when his lackeys didn’t move, he reached out the window and banged on the outside of the door. “Let’s go!” he bellowed. “I want to be back in El Paso by dinner!”

The men snapped to, rushing into their vehicles and taking off, tires squealing.

Once they were gone, Rodriguez turned to his two companions. “Looks like it’s just us,” he said.

“Would have been nice to have the truck,” Miguel muttered.

“We’ll make do,” Rodriguez said.

Sparks motioned to the SUV. “Does that back window open?” she asked.

Miguel shook his head. “Not on its own,” he replied, and then raised his gun. “But I have the right tool for the job.” He walked over and began smashing out the back window, leaving Rodriguez and Sparks out of earshot.

“Did they get the vehicle?” Rodriguez asked quietly.

She nodded. “Yeah, and it wasn’t damaged,” she said.

“Good,” he replied.

“Something else you should know,” she murmured, watching Miguel closely. “Before we took them out, Anontio said they suspected you were behind the attack on Tiago, and they weren’t the only ones.”

Rodriguez nodded. “That’s not surprising.”

“Still, I think you should take extra precautions,” she said.

“I’m afraid we’re well past the point of precautions,” he replied with a sigh. “Things are in motion that can’t be stopped. All we can do at this point is hope.”

Miguel finished clearing the back window, and sauntered back over to them. “I got most of the glass on the outside, but there’s still some in the back,” he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “I can take that fire position if you like.”

Sparks held up her bloody arms. “Couple more cuts aren’t going to make much of a difference,” she replied. “No sense in you getting cut up as well. You take the sunroof.”

Miguel nodded.

“We should move,” Rodriguez said. “That horde will not wait.”

The trio got into their vehicle and into firing positions as he began driving towards the zombie mass, the horde of rotting flesh that continued its death march unabated.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Rodriguez had the SUV parked a few hundred yards from the exit as Sparks sat in the back with her gun propped up on the edge of the broken window. Miguel stood up through the sunroof.

The trio sat in collective silence, letting the sounds of moaning and shuffling feet fill the air. The massive swarm of ghouls that still stretched for miles was within a hundred yards of them. The stench wafting from it was like nothing any of them had ever experienced before.

“Hey Rodriguez,” Sparks called back, “you got any music? I think I’ve had my fill of the Texas Undead Choir.”

Miguel leaned down. “I second that, boss,” he said.

Rodriguez reached down and flipped on the radio, which was far too loud and filled the air with static. He winced and turned it down, then flipped it over to the CD player.

“Sorry about that,” he called back as he fiddled with it.

“Better than what we were listening to,” Sparks admitted.

After a few moments, the speakers blasted the upbeat sounds of guitar and heavy trumpet. A singer jumped in, in Spanish, and the tempo picked up.

Sparks bobbed her head along with the beat. “Mariachi band?” she asked.

“Banda,” Rodriguez replied. “Mariachi is just guitar, banda includes the brass.”

She nodded. “Learn something new every day.”

“Do you like it?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Wouldn’t be my first pick off of the CD rack, but it wouldn’t be my last, either,” she admitted.

He smiled. “I can understand that,” he said. “Especially if you didn’t grow up with it.”

“My parents raised me with a steady dose of classic rock and golden oldies,” Sparks said. “So I have an appreciation for a wide variety of music.”

The song hit a quiet spot, allowing for the moans to creep back into her ears again.

“And at the moment, I am very appreciative of banda music,” she muttered.

The next song kicked up, another high tempo track, drowning out the zombies again.

“If only something could drown out the stench,” Miguel quipped.

Rodriguez glanced back to see the horde was at the thirty yard mark. “Here we go,” he declared, and put the SUV into drive, inching forward.

He kept pace with the sea of ghouls, making sure they wouldn’t gain on them or be left behind. As they got to the exit, both Miguel and Sparks started popping off shots. One by one, they dropped corpses, but more importantly, they pulled a significant number of them in their direction.

As they crept up the exit, hundreds followed them in pursuit of a meal they’d never get. They kept moving and firing, trying to pull as many as they possibly could in their direction.

As they reached the top of the exit ramp, Rodriguez paused to allow them to catch up a bit, and allow for the gunners to fire rapidly in one last attempt to pull them off of the interstate.

While this was happening, Sparks looked to the other side of the exit, seeing a significant number of zombies going in that direction as well. She shook her head, knowing that the group in that direction was going to be in for a fight.

She turned her attention back to their group, firing several more rounds back towards the mass on the interstate. She managed to start another small trickle of ghouls in their direction, but it was quickly cut off by the force of the horde.

“I think that’s all we’re gonna get,” Sparks called.

In a last ditch effort, he cranked the radio up as high as it would go and laid on the horn. As he did this, he started inching forward, leading the ghouls up the highway towards the town. After about a quarter mile, he toned things down.

“Miguel, what do you see?” he asked.

The roof gunner leaned down. “Looks like we got a couple thousand,” he replied. “Maybe three if we’re lucky.”

“What about the other side of the highway?” Sparks asked.

“A thousand, maybe a little more,” Miguel replied.

Rodriguez nodded. “Good to know that us doing this is at least making somewhat of a difference,” he said. “Would hate it if it was for nothing.”

“Boss, I’m going to stay up here until we get through town,” Miguel said. “If we come across any of those fuckers, I want to be ready.”

Rodriguez nodded again. “Brace yourself, then,” he called, “because we’re picking up the pace.”

As he hit the gas, all Sparks could do was look out the back window. Her thoughts were with Whitaker, Hammond, and Landry, as well as the others up in Fort Davis. The only thing that kept her from panicking was knowing that if anybody could hold off the group, it was those three.

She took a deep breath. Good luck, guys.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Hammond, Landry, and Whitaker stood in the middle of the road on the interstate side of the barricade. The gunshots they’d heard earlier had long since fallen quiet. Replacing them was a steady stream of moans that grew louder and louder, footsteps getting closer and closer.

There was a hill crest about three hundred yards away, and the first zombie’s head appeared atop it.

“It begins,” Whitaker muttered.

“Let’s just hope it’s only a handful of those things,” Landry drawled, stretching his arms above his head.

She raised an eyebrow. “What, you aren’t confident in our abilities?” she asked.

He glanced over his shoulder to the barbed wire barricade and the six cowboys standing in it, holding a wide variety of farm instruments and other tools. “We have half a dozen farm boys with axes and hammers,” he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “If we were trying to build a barn or till a field then I would be ecstatic about our current situation. But seeing as how we’re about to face off against god only knows how many zombies, I’m not liking our chances.”

“We’ve been in worse spots,” Hammond piped up. “Remember the Ribos Operation?”

Landry shuddered. “Goddammit Sarge, I thought I had successfully drank enough to kill the brain cells that remembered that,” he whined. “Why did you have to bring that up?”

“Just wanted to remind you that it could always be worse,” the Sergeant replied.

The trio turned back towards the horde, now a good hundred yards over the crest of the hill, and still coming.

“You were saying?” Landry said, waving a hand at the coming ghouls. “Because that’s looking like a whole lot of mother fuck right there.”

Whitaker took a deep breath. “Guess we should go give these guys a pep talk before the shitstorm hits,” she said.

“Or before they shit themselves,” Landry muttered.

“Let’s move,” Hammond said, turning around.

The three of them headed back to the wire barricade, ducking under it to get inside the makeshift box. The two Privates headed over to retrieve their melee weapons before flanking Hammond, who straightened his shoulders.

“All right everybody, listen up!” he declared. “Those things are here, and there are more than we thought. Now, before anybody panics, you need to know we can handle this.”

“Sir,” one of the cowboys piped up, raising his hand, “with all due respect… does it look like any of us panic about anything other than our wives getting a hold of our phones when we’re not around?”

There was a light smattering of laughter, and Hammond smirked.

“Fair enough,” he said. “Even with a level head, though, it’s going to be an uphill battle to hold these things off. As soon as they start getting to the line, you need to start going at them. Headshots, nothing but headshots. One clean strike will end them in a hurry. You do as much damage as you can before this line breaks. When it does, I want all six of you behind that next line set up, and do it again. The three of us will handle the gas station.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the horde, which was still coming over the hill. He tilted his head back and forth, doing some quick math in his head, counting over a thousand and still going.

“We’re using mostly gas,” he continued, “so that fire is going to get intense quick. When it gets to be too much, or when that front line starts to fail, I want everybody back at the barricade, guns ready. Now, hopefully by that point, we’ll have them thinning out enough that guns will be able to make a difference.”

The same cowboy raised his hand again. “And if we don’t?” he asked.

“Then you swing with everything you got,” Hammond said firmly, “because if they get through here, they’re not going to stop until they get back to town.”

The men exchanged some concerned looks, but there was determination in their eyes. This was a job they couldn’t fail.

“Okay, everybody knows what they’re doing,” the Sergeant said. “So let’s get in position.”

Whitaker approached him with a machete in one hand, an axe in the other. “Which one you want, Sarge?” she asked.

He examined them for a moment, and then grabbed the axe. “This will work just fine,” he said, and gave it a couple of practice swings to get a feel for the weight of it.

They turned towards the horde, which had finally tapered off at the back. The mass stretched for a couple hundred yards.

“Well, at least the conga line finally ended,” he muttered.

Whitaker took a deep breath. “Still a lot more than I was hoping for,” she said.

“Don’t worry,” he clapped her on the shoulder. “We’ll handle them.”

“Oh I know,” she replied with a smirk, “just wasn’t planning on having this strenuous of a workout today.”

Hammond chuckled and turned to Landry. “Why don’t you grab a few welcome gifts for them?” he asked.

“WIth pleasure,” the Private replied with a grin, and jogged over to the gas pumps, picking up three of the molotovs and rejoining the ling. He handed one each over to his companions, and the trio all pulled out lighters, waiting for the horde to get within range.

“So, when you were clearing out the empties,” Whitaker said, “you didn’t happen to find a full six pack, did you?”

Hammond and Landry glanced at each other, grins wide on their faces.

“Oh…” the latter drawled, exaggerating his tone. “Nope, nothing at all.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Whitaker replied, shaking her head.

“Yes, yes I am,” he declared.

The horde reached a twenty-yard buffer, and the soldiers checked on the cowboys to make sure they were still standing fast. As the zombies shuffled a few yards closer, Hammond took a deep breath.

“Light ‘em up!” he bellowed.

They lit the cloths, and threw the three flaming bottles in unison into the crowd. Landry’s went twenty yards deep, having given it everything he had, and the glass smashed on a zombie’s skull, sending a small fireball explosion ripping through the crowd.

Whitaker’s managed to hit the ground about ten yards deep, so the explosion was more muted, but within seconds a dozen or so ghouls were engulfed in flames.

Hammond’s was parallel to hers, hoping to make a small gap in the horde to buy them a few precious seconds to smack down the ones in front. It cracked against a zombie’s face, exploding with such force that it ripped the head of the corpse right off, setting tens of creatures around it ablaze.

“Warriors get ready!” the Sergeant barked, and he and his soldiers gripped their weapons tightly, ready to do battle with the horde. The cowboys did the same, though their faces were a lot paler and full of trepidation.

When the front edge of the mass reached the line, multiple strands of thick-cut barbed wire cut into their guts and chests as the rest pushed against their backs. The added weight caused the sharp edges to penetrate deeply into the decrepit flesh like butter.

Hammon let out a yell and stepped up with his axe, swinging down hard and cracking the top of a skull. The zombie convulsed for a moment before slumping backwards and to the ground, falling free of the barbed wire.

His attack got everybody moving, the soldiers and cowboys launching vicious attacks. The sledgehammers exploded heads like an M80 in a cantaloupe. The axes cracked skulls and lobbed heads clean off at the neck. Machetes jabbed straight into eye sockets and caved in noses.

With a fierce thirty-second barrage, the front line of the ghouls were pacified. Some of them crashed to the blood-slick pavement, while others remained upright, caught on the wire. The zombies behind them pressed forward, shoving their dispatched brethren through the wire, cutting the bodies in half. A few of the men had to step aside to avoid torsos landing on them.

The second group was on them quickly, as the small holes from the molotovs closed. Nine warriors, quickly splattered in crimson, continued to swing, smashing skulls and decapitating bodies.

The battle continued for several minutes before they began to tire. Some of the cowboys, who had started off swinging as hard and as fast as they could, were down to a few well-paced swings every thirty seconds. This allowed the living zombies at the front to push through the barbed wire, cutting them in half and sending their still chomping torsos behind the line.

“Breaking off the line!” Whitaker barked when she noticed the half-ghouls crawling towards them. She left her post, and quickly stabbed the slithering creatures to end the threat.

As she finished off the second one, she looked up and spotted several more near the end of the line, about ten yards from her. One of the cowboys wasn’t paying attention, dancing in a rage-filled trance and swinging his axe as hard as he could.

Whitaker opened her mouth to yell out, but it was too late. She watched helplessly as the ghoul latched onto his ankle, sinking its teeth into his calf.

The cowboy screamed and dropped his axe, crumpling to the ground. He kicked at the zombie with his good leg, his boot eventually caving in its forehead.

“Sarge, we’re breached!” Whitaker screamed.

Hammond swung again, cracking another skull before looking down the line. Several zombies were being cut in half and landing on their side of the line still alive.

“Whitaker, cleanup duty,” he barked, “we hold this line as long as we can!”

She drew her handgun and raced up and down the line, executing the ghouls on the ground as soon as they hit pavement. As she did this, the bitten cowboy struggled back to his feet, wincing as he put pressure on his wounded leg.

He picked up his axe and began swinging again, each blow filled with rage. He flew into a frenzy, not bothering to pause or aim at all. At one point he smacked a zombie multiple times in the neck area, sending blood everywhere but not quite decapitating the corpse.

“Get your shit together man, focus!” the cowboy beside him yelled.

The wounded man stopped moving, and took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before bringing his axe down hard on the zombie’s head. He adjusted his target to the next one, finally taking his time and dropping it in one go.

His presence on the line helped, though the line itself did little at this point to stem the tide of the horde. Everyone in the center was forced to take a step back as the thick barbed-wire barricade started to give, stretching out in the center. Once the zombies took a few steps, the high-pitched twang of metal snapping filled the air.

Within seconds, the ghouls were moving faster, pushing further and further in as the barbed wire snapped.

Hammond, standing off to the gas station side, spotted this and turned to the men. “Fallback positions!” he yelled.

The cowboys broke the line, with two of them rushing over to get their wounded friend to help him run. They sprinted through the open area, which was about twenty yards, and ducked under the next thicker line of wire.

The soldiers darted over to the gas station, the boys going for the molotovs.

“Whitaker, guard duty,” Hammond barked.

She nodded. “On it, Sarge,” she replied, and stopped about five yards away from the barricade, keeping her eyes trained on the outer edge of the wire line. Most of the ghouls stayed on the road, pushed in by the force of the mass behind them, but a few managed to shamble outside of the protective zone.

She took out her assault rifle, checking her aim and squeezing off precise round after precise round, dropping the freed creatures.

As she did this, the ghouls at the front of the line reached out for her, shoved forward under the weight of the blonding marching creatures behind them. In less than a minute, the entire cordoned off area was jam-packed tight with the undead.

Hammond and Landry approached the line, carrying multiple six packs of molotovs. The Sergeant pulled out his lighter and began the assault. One after another, he lit and threw, creating a small fire pit that engulfed several zombies.

He spread the bottles around, some at the front, some in the middle, and some as close as he could get to the rear. In a matter of minutes, the entire battlefield was filled with smoke, and the unmistakably vile scent of burning rotted flesh.

Hammond paused, looking down the road to see what they were dealing with. The line still stretched at least a hundred yards, all of them pushing forward, trying to get to the fresh meat at the other end.

As the fire raged, Whitaker continued to fire sporadically to keep the ghouls from overwhelming their position by going around the barbed wire. As she stopped to reload, somebody screamed for help from the cowboy line.

“Whitaker, hold!” he barked. “Landry, get another volley ready to go!”

He raced past the flaming horde, coming around to the front where the cowboys were battling with them.

Flaming ghouls, still moving and very agitated, were still being cut in half by the force of the horde and the barbed wire, only this time they were on fire. The flames were intense, causing the cowboys a great deal of difficulty in delivering head strikes.

They were forced to take several steps back and wait for the ghouls to be cut in two before stepping up to get them.

Hammond shook his head. “You’re going to have to get in there or this whole thing is going to fail!” he bellowed.

“The flames are too intense!” one of the cowboys yelled.

“Either get burned or get eaten,” the Sergeant replied. “Weigh it!”

The cowboy took a deep breath and tightened his grip on his weapon. “Get in there, boys!” He let out a motivating yell and dove back into the fight. The others followed, delivering head strikes to the severed torsos first, then starting in on the burning creatures.

Hammond watched as a few of them dropped their axes to the ground as the heat from the fire burned them even though their work gloves. As he watched, the barbed wire began to bend in the middle, concerning him. Before he could think too hard on it, though, Landry whistled loudly, and the Sergeant raced back over to him.

When he reached him, his eyes widened. Several dozen ghouls had been forced outside of the containment area at the metal posts, and were making their way towards the station. They were still about thirty yards away, but closing fast.

“We’re not going to be able to hold this position much longer, Sarge,” Landry warned.

Hammond clenched his jaw, thinking for a moment before grabbing a molotov. He lit up a few, and lobbed them one by one towards the creeping threat.

The flames engulfed them quickly, but they kept coming. Whitaker continued to shoot, and then stopped to reload.

“One mag left after this!” she yelled as she smacked another into her rifle.

The fire on the ghouls in the pit was starting to have an impact, as significant portions of them collapsed to the ground. They were quickly replaced by a fresh batch, stepping onto the charred remains of their brethren.

“How many molotovs we got left?” Hammond asked.

Landry inspected his supply. “Eight,” he replied.

The Sergeant looked over to Whitaker, who was furiously firing, barely able to keep them at bay. He took a deep breath, grimacing.

“Fall back to the barricade!” he yelled. It was a difficult decision, but one that had to be made.

She fired a few more times before breaking away. Landry grabbed the last handful of molotovs, and they ran. When they came around the corner, they saw the cowboys fighting desperately against the wall of flesh.

The barbed wire was really starting to stretch. Already weakened by the combination of the first wave and the flames, it was on the verge of giving way as the second wave approached.

“Get to the barricade!” Hammond bellowed.

Most of the cowboys broke away, carrying their wounded man along with them. One of them stayed, continuing to hack away while the others retreated. The Sergeant rushed over, grabbing him by the back of the shirt and pulling.

“Let’s move, now!” he yelled.

The cowboy tried to wrench free. “But they’ll get through!” he protested.

“They’re getting through regardless,” Hammond grunted. “Now move!”

The cowboy reluctantly retreated along with the others. They made it to the makeshift barricade on the road, which was about thirty yards away. The handful of cars and sheet metal was flimsy and barely covered the whole road, but it was all they had.

Landry and Whitaker jumped on top of the vehicles, looking back towards the horde. They watched as the zombies pushed into the holding area, pressing against the barbed wire. Several of them slides through, the weight against them too much for the fragile rotting bodies to withstand.

“How are we looking?” Hammond asked from the ground.

Landry shook his head. “About half-past fucked, Sarge,” he replied.

“Could you be a little more vague, Private?” Hammond snapped.

“Line isn’t nearly as long, maybe about sixty yards,” Whitaker cut in. “Got a few dozen wandering around the pumps at the gas station, and the rest are pressing on.”

“Ammo?” the Sergeant asked.

She let out a deep breath. “Forty, maybe forty-five shots,” she replied.

“Landry?” he pressed.

“Sixty, if I’m lucky,” the Private replied.

“Gets us a tenth of the way there,” Hammond replied with a sigh.

He turned back to the cowboys, all exhausted and nursing the burns on their hands. A few couldn’t even grip their weapons anymore due to the pain.

“You boys did good, but there’s nothing more you can do here,” he said as he approached them.

One of the cowboys hissed, but shook his head. “We’re not abandoning this post,” he grunted. “The town is counting on us.”

“We’ll figure something out,” the Sergeant replied. “But you need to tend to your man and your wounds. You’re not going to do anybody any good trying to fight in your condition.”

The man was reluctant but eventually nodded in agreement, glancing at his comrades. “Let’s get loaded up, boys,” he said.

The others looked defeated, shoulders slumping, but nobody argued. They moved the wounded man into the back of a pickup truck before piling in themselves. They headed back to town, just a short ride up the road.

Hammond looked at the wire barricade, and as if on cue, it snapped, sending several injured zombies at the front tumbling to the ground. They struggled to get back up as the other ghouls swarmed over them, all headed forward.

“Shit,” Hammond grunted. “Landry, light ‘em up!”

The Privates lit what they had left, and started throwing. The bottles splashed down on the ghouls at the front, slowing them and setting several more on fire.

The soldiers stood at the barricade, staring death in the face. With hundreds of zombies still standing and working their way towards them, they contemplated their next move, knowing their time was short.

“Open to ideas,” Hammond said.

“Retreat into town,” Whitaker replied. “See if we can’t spread the horde around and take them out in small groups.”

The Sergeant shook his head. “Last resort,” he said. “We don’t have the time, and all it takes is one runner to fuck the whole operation.”

Landry stared over at the horde, fixated on the gas station. There were a few dozen ghouls around the pumps and in the parking lot, but the majority of them ignored it, instead moving through the kill zone they set up.

“How pissed do you think Andrew would be if the gas station didn’t make it?” Landry asked.

Whitaker sighed. “I don’t like where this is going,” she drawled.

“Not my first choice either, but it could work,” Landry mused.

Hammond crossed his arms. “What are you thinking?”

“Take out the ones around the pumps, unleash every nozzle to flood the roadway, and set it off,” the Private explained. “If we time it right, we might be able to hit the emergency pump switch off before the whole thing goes up.”

“And if we don’t?” Whitaker asked.

“At least we won’t have to worry about Andrew yelling at us,” Landry quipped.

She rolled her eyes and then locked her gaze on the zombies making their way closer, now within twenty yards as the flaming ghouls dropped and fizzled out. “If we’re going to do it, we gotta do it now,” she urged.

“Let’s go,” Hammond confirmed.

The three soldiers readied their guns, leaping down from the barricade and running as hard as they could towards the gas station.

The zombies covered the majority of the road, but the side of it was mostly clear. They reached by the outstretched arms of the ghouls, heading towards the gas station that was now thirty yards away. When they reached fifteen yards of the parking lot, they stopped and took aim.

“Cut ‘em down!” Hammond barked.

The trio unleaded on the ghouls in the parking lot, dropping ten in a matter of seconds. As Landry and Whitaker continued to fire, the Sergeant looked back at the mass of creatures they’d run past. They were closing fast, about fifteen yards away.

The zombies in the parking lot continued to head towards them, the Privates doing what they could to thin them out. Hammond turned away from the creeping horde.

“We gotta go!” he barked. “Whitaker, cover us!”

They sprinted towards the pumps, which still had nearly a dozen ghouls within five yards of them. Landry fired as he ran, hitting a few closest to them. He and Hammond made a direct line for the pumps while Whitaker took up position a few yards away.

She aimed carefully, selecting her targets carefully as they were close. She kept the coast clear as the two of them grabbed the nozzles, stretching them out as far as they could go.

“Go for distance!” Hammond yelled.

The two of them hit their triggers while arcing the nozzles up, sending a forceful stream of fuel out about ten yards, landing short of the horde that was headed their way. They continued this for several moments as Whitaker continued to pump round after round into zombies.

“Clear!” she yelled as she secured the immediate area.

“Get the rest of the nozzles going,” Hammond called, “put them on auto.”

She nodded and leapt into action, grabbing the remaining few nozzles and hooking the release so that a steady stream of gas flowed from it. She set them on the ground, and puddles began to flow.

This went on for a few moments before they were forced to abandon their position due to the ghouls getting too close.

“Get to the store!” Hammond cried.

The trio ran to the entrance of the building, Landry and Whitaker bursting inside to do a sweep of the place. It was relatively small, with only two aisles of snacks and other small items stacked on metal display racks. They each took one.

“Clear!” Landry announced.

Whitaker nodded. “Clear!” she added. “Gonna check the back.” She rushed into the small store room, which was dark with a bit of movement in the far corner.

Without waiting on confirmation, she pulled the trigger a few times, catching a worn down ghoul in the head and dropping it. She rushed to the back door, kicking it open and burst outside. She scanned the area that led to open desert terrain, with no threat in sight.

Landry moved back to the front, standing in the doorway. Hundreds of ghouls poured into the parking lot, their feet soaked in gasolene as they marched towards the building, fifteen yards from the entrance.

He looked over at Hammond, standing at the corner of the building with his hand on the emergency pump shutoff button.

“Call it, Sarge!” Landry bellowed.

Hammond glanced at the parking lot, seeing the gas covered nearly the entire area, even getting to the entrance of the building. “You wait until they’re right on top of you to drop the light,” he said firmly.

Landry nodded as the two of them turned back to the horde, and he pulled out his lighter, flicking it on and holding it, waiting.

The ghouls were five yards away, and he nodded to the Sergeant. They both acted at the same moment, Hammond hitting the emergency stop button as Landry let go of the lighter.

Both men quickly ducked to safety, Hammond running around the side of the building and Landry ducking inside. He barely reached the first aisle, diving to the side as the lighter touched down on the puddle of gasoline.

It took a moment for the vapors to ignite, but they did, it set off a massive blast. Flames quickly spread to every inch of fuel, sending a massive fireball into the air, engulfing everything in its path.

The shockwave from the blast blew out the windows, sending shards of glass into the building and knocking over one of the metal display racks, sending snacks down onto Landry. The heat was intense, and he could feel it even from underneath his makeshift hiding spot.

The moans from the massive horde of zombies quickly faded as they were covered from head to toe in extreme fire.

Landry’s heart skipped a beat when he heard footsteps on the broken glass. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he muttered, and peeked through a small gap in the metal, watching as a handful of blazing ghouls shambled inside.

He remained quiet while reading his handgun, which was the only one of his weapons he could really move at the moment.

The zombies heard the movement and converged on him, smacking their flaming hands on the metal rack, sending tiny little fireballs into the crevice.

Knowing his cover was blown, Landry bellowed, “Whitaker!”

A moment later, the room filled with gunfire as she came around the corner, opening fire on the ghouls standing over him. She cleared them out quickly, and then called out, “Landry!”

“Under here!” he cried.

Whitaker rushed over and lifted the display rack up enough for him to slide out. “You okay?” she asked.

“I’m good,” he assured her.

The two of them looked out the front of the building that was completely in ruins. Their entire field of vision ws full of nothing but flames and writhing bodies, like some vision of hell. There were a few corpses still standing, but they quickly fell, eviscerated by the flames.

As they burned, the emergency fire suppression system kicked in by the gas pumps. A giant white cloud quickly covered the area directly under the canopy, smothering the flames, at least somewhat.

The two soldiers held their breaths, thinking that the suppression might spare some of the ghouls, but as the smoke began to clear, their fears were unfounded. The only creatures still standing were at the far edge of the horde, standing near the barricade they’d abandoned.

“No more than a dozen of those things left,” Landry said, letting out a deep breath. “I think we can manage that.”

“Let’s get Hammond and take care of them,” Whitaker replied, and looked around. “Wait, where the hell’s the Sarge?”

Landry pointed outside. “The shutoff button was on the side of the building,” he explained. “He’s probably around back.”

“Back exit is clear, come on,” she said, and waved for him to follow her out.

They found Hammond leaning up against the brick, breathing heavy.

“You all right there, Sarge?” Whitaker asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m good,” he huffed. “That heat was intense.”

“No kidding,” Landry added, pointing to his shirt to show off the singe marks on it from the mini-fireballs.

“We good out there?” Hammond asked.

Whitaker nodded. “Just a little mop-up duty,” she said.

“Let’s get to it, then,” the Sergeant said, pushing off of the wall.

The trio came around the side of the building, making sure to stay in the desert terrain as they walked towards their last remaining zombies. Each of them pulled out their handguns, not wanting to take any chances at that point.

“Quick and clean,” Hammond said firmly.

The soldiers nodded, and the three converged on their last enemies, taking them out with precise headshots like angels of death.

Finally, the battlefield fell silent, with nothing standing. There were a few smoldering corpses writhing on the ground, lacking the strength to get back up and be a threat. As the trio looked over the carnage, a truck raced up the highway. They turned and watched as Andrew got out and walked over to them.

The cowboy tried to speak, but his mouth simply hung open as he surveyed the situation. His eyes widened and his face went pallid as he took in the sheer amount of bodies in the road.

“You all right there, bud?” Landry asked.

“I’ve just…” Andrew rasped, clearing his throat. “I’ve never…”

“Yeah, we’re right there with you,” Landry said gently. “New one, even for us.”

The cowboy nodded. “Is the threat over?” he rasped.

“Pretty sure,” Hammond replied with a nod. “We’re going to keep an eye on the interstate, make sure none of the others were attracted by the noise we made. But we just might be in the clear.”

Whitaker waved a hand. “But as you can see,” she said, “some of those things are still moving, so I don’t recommend going to the gas station anytime soon.”

“It’s a shame we had to lose it…” Andrew trailed off, and then his eyes widened and he raised his palms. “Oh but I mean, please don’t take that as me being ungrateful for what you did,” he amended, speaking rapidly. “I just… I’m not criticising, I just… I just spoke a thought. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come off as rude there—”

“No need to apologize,” Hammond cut in. “That station is important to your town, so it would have been the first thing out of my mouth as well.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “That being said, I hit the emergency shutoff button before we burned it down. So the fuel in the underground tank should still be good. Might have to get creative to get it out, but it’s still there.”

Andrew nodded. “We’re a resourceful bunch,” he drawled, “I’m sure we can figure it out when the time comes.”

“How is your injured man doing?” Whitaker asked.

He shook his head. “The doc did a battlefield amputation to hopefully limit the spread of the infection, but we’re not hopeful,” he admitted.

“Has that ever worked?” Landry asked, raising an eyebrow.

Andrew shrugged. “Never had to try it before,” he said. “He suggested it, and we figured we might as well try. Whatever the result, we’ll be sure to pass it along to Clara.”

“We appreciate that,” Hammond said. “And wish him the best.”

Andrew turned back to the charred horde. “So, what now?” he asked.

“We need to rest,” the Sergeant admitted. “Then, in the morning, we’ll be on our way to go get our friend in El Paso.”

The cowboy nodded. “Well, once you get settled, come by city hall,” he suggested. “I’ll have my older sister cook you a proper meal. And I’ll pull together some supplies that might be useful for you. We don’t have a lot, but you did a lot for this town today, and I’m going to make sure you see our gratitude.”

“We appreciate that,” Hammond said. “We’ll be by in a couple hours.”

The cowboy gave them a wave and headed back to his truck, heading back to town. The trio of soldiers stood there, looking over their handiwork.

“It took everything we had to take out a couple thousand of those things,” Landry murmured. “How in the hell are they going to deal with a million?”

Whitaker shook her head. “I have no clue,” she admitted. “This is just overwhelming.”

“Lucky for us, it’s not our problem,” the Sergeant cut in. “We’ve done our part for this fight, and now we have to focus on the bigger picture. Getting Mathis back, and with any luck, putting that bastard Tiago in his place once and for all.”

Landry and Whitaker nodded in firm silent agreement, the three of them watching the interstate intently, hoping beyond hope that their fighting for the day was at an end.

CHAPTER NINE

Leon looked at the monitor of his satellite computer, watching another few thousand zombies go in both directions at the latest highway turnoff. He zoomed in on the smoke rising from the south, smiling widely at the sight of a giant mass of charred bodies.

“That looks like a mess,” Ethel said from over his shoulder. “Glad I don't have to clean that up.”

Leon nodded. “That’s where Hammond and the others are,” he said.

“Honestly, I’m surprised it’s that small of a mess,” she quipped, and headed over to the coffee pot, filling up a large thermos. She grabbed it with two small stacking cups and set them down beside him. “Trenton told me that the Cartel left for the day. Figured out might want to pay Rogers a visit. He might be going stir-crazy in his hiding spot.”

He smirked up at her. “You trying to get rid of me, Ethel?” he asked playfully.

“Why would I want to get rid of my underling?” she asked. “It’s not like you keep me here against my will. I just figured it might do you some good, instead of staring at all that doom and gloom you can’t do anything about.”

He chuckled. “This is true.” He flicked off the monitor and stood up, stretching before grabbing the thermos and cups. “You have a good evening, ma’am. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Bright and early,” she replied with a smile. “I’ll be here.”

He left the command center, strolling south through town towards the school. As he approached the bridge over the drainage ditch, there was an impressive-looking barricade blocking the path. Two cars were flipped over on their sides and reinforced with metal on the other side. Trenton sat on the side of the bridge as Leon strolled up.

“This is looking pretty good,” Leon said.

Trenton shrugged. “Yeah, not sure how much good it’s gonna do,” he admitted, “but we’re gonna give it a shot.”

“So…” Leon looked back and forth. “How do I get around it?”

“Oh, sorry,” Trenton replied, shaking his head. “I had to take the ladder down to reinforce the base.” He stood up and pulled a ladder from the ground, setting it up in the center.

Leon climbed up, getting to the top and noting the platform at the top with several metal spears piled up and ready. “Looks like we’re going full medieval with this,” he said.

“It’s strong, it works, and it doesn’t need to reload,” Trenton explained. “Can’t think of a better way to fight these things.”

Leon cocked his head. “I don’t know, tomahawk missiles, tanks, napalm,” he joked as he secured himself on the platform.

“I’ll add that to the shopping list next time we make a run,” Trenton said, chuckling.

Leon laughed. “I’m running low on scotch too, just saying,” he added.

“Consider it done,” Trenton said with a wave. “Have a good night.”

Leon waved back and then hopped down the other side. He walked the several blocks to the school, surveying the fortified houses with boarded-up windows, spikes on the front porch, and a whole host of low cost, low effectiveness protections.

I hope to god we can stop those things from getting here… he thought, swallowing hard. Because if we can’t, this is going to be a massacre. We just aren’t prepared for an assault of this magnitude.

When he reached the school, it looked more like a fortress than an institute of learning. There were numerous ditches dug out and trapped with spikes. The windows were secured, with boards, and there was a thick sandbag barricade in front of the door.

This is a little better, he thought as he climbed the ladder over the dirt bags. But if we get thousands of those things in town, this might become a tomb instead of a safe haven.

He hopped over the side and walked inside, surveying the interior. It was set up like a battle zone. There were melee weapons scattered at every window, with safe zones and medical areas. Several civilians walked about, checking supplies and defenses.

But if we go down… he thought, it’s going to be fighting. All of the people in this town are survivors. And with any luck, we’ll still be survivors once this is done.

He allowed himself a glimmer of hope, and took a deep breath as he entered the gym, looking to the far corner where Rogers’ hiding spot was. He approached it and then did a playful ‘shave and a haircut’ knock on it.

There was no answer, and he tried again. Still no answer, so he took a deep breath.

“Everybody’s gone home for the night,” he called. “Just me, you, and a canister of fresh coffee.”

A few moments passed before the sound of unlatching locks echoed through the gym. The secret door opened, revealing Rogers behind it.

“Ethel just doesn’t want me to go without, does she?” he drawled.

Leon grinned. “No, she does not,” he replied, holding up the cups.

“Well come on in,” Rogers replied, stepping aside with a flourish. “Let me give you the grand tour.”

Leon stepped inside, and looked around. The space looked like a cheap studio apartment, with a mattress on the floor, a kerosene heater, some battery-powered lighting, and a stack of books sitting beside a weapon stash.

“If you were twenty…” Leon drawled, “ehh… twenty-five years younger, I’d swear this was your first bachelor pad.”

Rogers barked a laugh. “Shit man, I ain’t that old,” he quipped.

“You sure?” Leon shot back, and they shared a chuckle as they approached the small table in the corner. He set down the cups and unscrewed the cap on the thermos, pouring them each a hot cup.

“So, how is it out there?” Rogers asked.

Leon sighed, leaning back with his full cup. “Don’t know if we’re getting out of this one,” he admitted.

“I’ve been away for two days, and it’s already falling apart out there without me?” Rogers joked.

“Afraid so, man,” Leon replied with a smirk.

The Detective shrugged. “Looks like I might have to emerge sooner than I would have liked,” he said.

“Nah man, you stay put,” his friend said with a wave of his hand. “You still have book reports to do for me.”

“Well, I got a couple of them done,” Rogers said, motioning to the stack. “So how about a little quid pro quo. Give me a real report about how it’s going out there.”

Leon took a long sip of his coffee, his face falling from the fun banter. “It’s bad,” he said quietly. “We’ve only been able to divert maybe ten, fifteen thousand of them from the horde.”

Rogers sobered as well, taking in a sharp breath and then taking a long sip of the hot brew.

“On the plus side, Rodriguez has a plan to get Hammond and his crew into El Paso tomorrow,” Leon continued. “They know where Mathis is, and they’re going to go get him.”

The Detective nodded. “And Tiago?”

“He’s trying to orchestrate a shot for them,” Leon said.

Rogers swallowed hard. “They damn well better hit this time,” he muttered.

“Yeah, no shit,” his friend agreed, “especially after what we’re going to do to Angel.”

The Detective perked up. “You got a plan?” he asked.

Leon nodded. “Working on one.”

“Care to share?” Rogers pressed, setting down his mug.

“Nah,” his friend replied with a smirk, “gotta keep a little of the mystery.”

The Detective scoffed. “You’re such a tease,” he said. They sipped their brew in silence for a few moments, and then he sighed. “Man, how did it come to this? A month ago I was at the top of my game, living life to its fullest. Now I’m living in a high school gymnasium.”

“Man, how do you think I feel?” Leon drawled. “A month ago I was a high ranking military intelligence officer. Now I’m hanging out in my friend’s high school gymnasium bachelor pad. You ain’t the only one to fall from grace.”

They shared a laugh, savoring the moment of levity instead of doom-filled moments.

“Well man, I’m clocked out for the night,” Leon finally said. “You got a deck of cards or something in this joint?”

Rogers grinned. “Yeah, I think I can scare one up,” he said, and reached for a storage container beneath the table, rummaging around inside. He pulled out a deck of cards and a bottle of whiskey, unscrewing the cap and pouring a few dollops into each coffee cup.

Leon lifted his mug and shrugged. “Eh, what the hell, I’m close enough to Irish.” He took a sip and then hissed. “Man, that is good stuff.”

“So, what’s your game?” Rogers asked as he shuffled the cards.

“Kinda partial to gin rummy, myself,” Leon replied, and at his friend’s raised eyebrow, he shrugged. “What?”

Rogers shook his head. “You just kind of struck me as a poker player,” he admitted.

“What can I say?” Leon asked. “My momma appreciated the wholesome classics.”

“All right,” the Detective replied, “gin rummy it is.”

He finished shuffling and dealt the cards as Leon picked up the whiskey bottle and added a little more to each cup.

They settled into their game in companionable silence, focusing intently on their cards and doing everything they could to push out the constant thoughts of the creeping death continuously heading their way.

END

PART 4

BY DEREK SLATON

© 2021

CHAPTER ONE

Rodriguez stood over a map laid out on the desk, staring intently at it. The lack of sleep from the night before, combined with the early morning light peeking through the blinds made it difficult to focus.

There was a thick black line that stretched to the east along the interstate, slowly consuming everything in its path. Every morning as the horde drew closer, he filled in a little bit more, muscles growing tighter and tighter as the threat made its way towards them.

There were several circles along the interstate path, showing the approximate locations of the speaker setups that had been put into position the day before. While there were a few dozen of them, he knew it was the equivalent of putting a band-aid on a severed arm.

Of course, he really didn’t care about how effective they were, since their true purpose had been a diversion. The only way to sneak the trio of military hitmen past the fortified checkpoints that surrounded the city was to create a massive caravan where nobody but him knew the true number of vehicles.

As he stared at the map, he shook his head. If one thing goes wrong, it’s death, he thought to himself, taking a deep breath. Not just for me, but for anyone they suspect of supporting me. But what choice do I have? Do I just stand idly by while innocent civilians are slaughtered? He clenched a fist. No, this must be done. The threat at the top must be eliminated if there is to be any hope of a future.

“Is this a bad time?” Javier asked as he entered the room.

Rodriguez snapped out of his reverie and turned, waving his subordinate inside. “No, please come in,” he said.

Javier walked over and stood over the map. Rodriguez pointed to the black line, tracing his finger along it to Van Horn, the last potential spot for a stand against the horde.

“Getting a little too close for comfort,” Javier admitted.

His superior nodded. “That’s an understatement,” he agreed. “Now tell me, what did you and Trenton find in Van Horn yesterday?”

“There is a bridge on the interstate that we might be able to use to our advantage,” came the reply. “My initial thought was to use the guard railings over the side, but I don’t know how viable that would be. Regardless of how we decide to proceed, it is going to require a massive amount of manpower.”

Rodriguez sighed. “That’s just something we don’t have,” he said. “So we’re going to have to get creative.”

Javier stepped away from the table, pacing and thinking for a moment.

“Why don’t you tell me what the issue is?” Rodriguez prompted, crossing his arms.

“The town is packed full of zombies, so if we start working on the bridge to set something up, we’re going to get overrun in a hurry,” Javier explained, stopping his pacing to look at him. “Ideally, we should send in a strike team to clear them out.”

Rodriguez shook his head. “Tiago would never approve the use of that much ammunition, let alone the manpower required to use it,” he replied. “But I do have another idea.” He pointed to the circles on the map. “I have sent out several teams to activate these setups as the horde approaches them. There are also a few turnoffs onto the dirt roads that the men came across yesterday that we are installing new stations at. There is another team loading up right now in the garage. I want you to take command of it, and start setting these up around the north part of Van Horn.”

Javier shook his head, brow furrowing. “I don’t understand how that’s going to help, since the sound won’t carry that far,” he replied.

“I understand your concern,” Rodriguez said, nodding, and then pointed to several dead end roads at the north part of town. He circled several areas along the northern ridge before drawing another set of circles half a mile or so above them. “Set the sound up in two stages,” he explained. “That way, the creatures will be attracted to the first, and hopefully catch on to the second and continue moving north. Once they are operational, we can send in decoy teams to lead the ones further into town towards them. Every few blocks, we can set up a new station, which will hopefully reach further into town. We don’t need to clear them all out, just keep them occupied for a day so we can get set up.”

Javier nodded sharply. “I will make preparations immediately,” he declared.

“The team is scheduled to stop by Fabens to pick up some help,” Rodriguez continued. “Take whatever help they can spare.” He watched as his subordinate stopped at the door, hesitating. “Is there something else?” he asked.

Javier turned back, licking his lips. “I was sorry to hear about Carlos, Juan, and Antonio,” he said.

“Their deaths were painful, to be sure,” Rodriguez replied, feigning upset though inside his heart pounded.

Javier took a deep breath. “I’m just…” he trailed off, swallowing hard. “I’m just shaken up on how close it was to being me instead of Carlos driving that vehicle.”

Rodriguez approached him, and put his hand on his shoulder. “I had a similar incident several years ago,” he said gently. “I was injured in a fight with a rival gang, so I was taken off patrol the next night. The man who replaced me was gunned down in his car at a stop light. Ambushed on both sides, so regardless of who was driving they wouldn’t have had a chance. It haunted me, until I came to a realization.”

Javier raised an eyebrow. “What was it?”

“That we are in a dangerous profession, living in dangerous times,” Rodriguez explained. “Death can come for us at any moment, regardless of what we do. You managed to dodge the reaper yesterday, just as I did on that day. The only thing you can do is go back out, and hope that you can avoid death for another day.”

“Thank you,” Javier said, voice thick. He opened the door. “I will have a report for you this evening.”

As he stepped out, another cartel member stepped in, catching the door as it closed.

“Whatever it is,” Rodriguez barked, “I don’t have time for it.”

“Tiago Rivas wishes to speak to you,” the man snapped.

Rodriguez froze, breath catching in his throat. He knew he couldn’t put off the big boss. He forced saliva into his dry mouth, mentally preparing himself for what could be a difficult conversation, especially after finding out from Sparks the day prior that he’d been suspected for being responsible for the failed assassination attempt on the Cartel leader.

“Is he in his office?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” the Cartel member replied.

Rodriguez nodded. “I will head there momentarily.”

“I will let him know,” the man replied, and headed out, the door slamming shut loudly behind him.

Rodriguez took a moment, a deep breath, and then gathered his gun and notes before heading out.

He walked down the hallway of City Hall, taking in the beautiful marble everywhere. Various Cartel members moved about, making preparations for the horde that was still coming their way. The activity within the city the past few days had ramped up to a level not seen since the initial invasion. Rodriguez was relieved, at least a little, because it meant that at least everyone was taking the threat seriously.

Rodriguez walked up the stairs to get to the main office at the top. As he approached the door, two guards stood outside. They were gigantic, wearing body armor and holding fully automatic weapons. They glared at him upon approach.

Well, I think it’s safe to assume these guys believe I was behind the attempt on Tiago, Rodriguez thought bitterly, and straightened his shoulder when he reached them. “I was told the boss wants to see me,” he said.

One of the guards grunted and knocked on the door.

“He may enter,” Tiago called from inside.

The guard opened the door, and as soon as Rodriguez was through, it slammed behind him.

The office was fairly large, and still mostly intact from its pre-apocalypse life. The only noticeable difference were the windows, which had been triple-reinforced with bulletproof glass, as well as a thick blackout curtain to block anyone else wanting to take a shot at the Cartel leader.

“Good of you to make time for me,” Tiago drawled, sarcasm evident in his tone, “given how little you claimed we had.” He got up from his desk, grabbing a glass of tequila and stalking towards his second-in-command. His face was still bandaged up from the attempt on his life, although the wrapping was smaller than it had been before.

Rodriguez furrowed his brow. “I don’t follow, sir,” he said slowly, feigning ignorance.

“Oh, you don’t?” Tiago asked with a sneer. “So, you’re telling me that you don’t remember storming into my office two days ago in a panic, screaming about how we were going to be overrun by an army of zombies within two days unless I gave you what you wanted? Is that what you are saying?”

He took another sip, entire body stiff and agitated.

Rodriguez pondered for a moment, wondering how many glasses Tiago had drank since he’d woken up that morning—assuming he’d even slept the night before.

“Yes, sir, I do remember that,” he said slowly. “However, at the time—”

“Ah good, so you do remember lying to me,” Tiago cut in, pointing a finger at him around his glass. “That is a step in the right direction, I suppose. Now, let’s see if you can remember why you thought it would be in your best interest to lie to me.”

Rodriguez kept his expression calm. He knew he had to play this carefully, or all of their carefully-laid plans would be in ruins.

“Sir, at the time, the information I was given by Leon suggested we only had two days before they would be upon us,” he replied.

Tiago chuckled, taking another sip. “So either you are claiming ignorance, or you are claiming incompetence,” he drawled, wagging his finger at his subordinate before leaning back against his desk. “I fail to see how either of those things help your cause.”

“Sir, regardless of timeline,” Rodriguez replied coolly, “be it what we thought then, or what it currently is, we took immediate and necessary action to fortify this city.”

Tiago clucked his tongue. “And just what is that timeline, huh?” he demanded. “Or do you need to go consult with your co-conspirators in Fabens to concoct another lie?”

Rodriguez’ mind reeled. He had to be especially careful with the co-conspirators accusation, thoughts racing on how to deal with it. He quickly decided that defending himself against it would cause the drunken Cartel leader to just focus on it more, so ignoring it would be the best course of action.

“Sir, the current projections have the horde reading Van Horn tomorrow morning,” he explained. “It should reach Fabens the following evening, with the horde moving through El Paso before dawn.”

Tiago jutted out his chin. “And that’s with your efforts to stall them?” he asked.

“Yes sir, that’s taking our actions into account,” Rodriguez confirmed with a sharp nod.

“So if you did nothing, they could be here when, tonight?” Tiago roared, glazed-over rage in his eyes. “Right now? Do you even know?”

Rodriguez forced himself to stay zen. “Our actions could buy us as much as six hours at this point,” he explained, “assuming they are successful.”

“Six hours,” Tiago spat, and then scoffed, waving his free hand around his head. “What good is six hours going to do, huh?”

His second-in-command raised his chin. “Sir, every hour we buy allows for another exit to be fortified. Every hour allows for holes to be patched up. Every hour allows us to stretch our empire—” He paused, catching himself. “Your empire, further out. It also has the added benefit of insulating us from further attacks, should the U.S. Military catch wind of what is happening here.”

Tiago glared at him. “I have already experienced the U.S. Military,” he growled, “and it has left me in this condition.” He pointed to his bandages.

“Sir, that was one man,” Rodriguez replied. “Now imagine if they sent a hundred. Or a thousand. Fortifying our weak spots gives us a better chance of holding them off. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Tiago stared him down for another moment before downing the rest of his drink. “Do whatever you wish,” he slurred, waving him off. “Just get out of my sight.” He turned and grabbed a half-empty bottle of tequila and poured another full glass.

Rodriguez, not wanting to press his luck, turned and headed for the door. When he reached it, he stopped short at the cluck of his leader’s tongue.

“I have another task for you,” Tiago called.

Rodriguez ground his teeth and then turned around to face him. “Anything I can do, sir,” he said.

“I want to see this spectacle, this horde that has you so worried,” the Cartel leader declared. “Find a viewing place where I and some close personal friends can observe it. When you have it picked out, tell my men outside, and only my men. They’ll handle the arrangements to get me to and from the event.”

Rodriguez nodded. “As you wish, sir,” he said, and then headed out, the guards slamming the door shut behind him once again.

As he rounded the corner, his heart nearly leapt into his throat and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead. Clearly this is a trap, he thought frantically. If another attempt is made on his life, he’ll know it was me. Of course, if no attempt happens, he may kill me anyway for revenge on the first attempt. Regardless, we have to proceed. But first things first, we have to buy time in Van Horn.

He took a deep breath to steady himself. The horde was a much larger threat than Tiago Rivas, and it was on the horizon. He calmed himself and headed out to the garage to pick up a team and head to Fabens.

CHAPTER TWO

Rodriguez drove along from the garage, working his way down the city streets to the interstate. There was a hive of activity there as Cartel members and civilians alike worked together to fortify the town, just in case.

As he approached the interstate exit, a Cartel member waved him down.

Rodriguez slowed to a stop and rolled down the window.

“I’m sorry sir,” the man said, “but you’re going to have to find another on-ramp. This one is secure.”

He poked his head out, looking down towards the interstate. He spotted several men working on a barricade. He got out of the SUV and began walking towards it to have a look.

The Cartel member gasped, apparently having realized who he was. “I’m so sorry, sir,” he gushed. “I can have the men open it up for you.”

“Not necessary,” Rodriguez replied flippantly. “I just want to inspect it for myself, that’s all.”

The Cartel member sighed with relief, following him up to the next block. As they grew close, he let out a loud whistle, gaining the attention of the men working. When they turned and spotted Rodriguez, they stood up straight and stoic.

Rodriguez walked up to the barrier, which had been made of thick metal welded onto cars. It stretched across the entire exit ramp from wall to wall. The barrier stretched up eight feet into the air and the tires of the cars were flattened, with extra reinforcement on the vehicles to prevent them from moving when the zombies started pushing.

He nodded in approval. “You men are doing fine work,” he said. “As long as nothing attracts those things this way, it should hold nicely.” He waved a hand. “Are the rest of the exits this secure?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” one of the men replied, nodding. “We are fortifying every one in the city.”

“Good to know,” Rodriguez replied. “But can you tell me where I can get on the interstate? Because this is the exit I took last night.”

The Cartel member pointed. “Carver street is being left open, about four blocks to the north,” he explained. “It’s the narrowest ramp in the city, so it will be the quickest to patch up.”

“Good work, men,” Rodriguez declared. “You keep this up, and this city will survive to see another day.”

The men smiled and nodded, and he headed back to his vehicle, starting it up and heading off to find the aforementioned ramp. It took a few minutes, but he found it and waved at the guards there before he was back on the interstate.

He took his time, checking every exit as he went. Every single one had been turned into a mini-fortress. Metal stuck up from the road, standing tall and creating a barrier that would be difficult for the ghouls to penetrate.

These weren’t rural exits like the ones in Fabens that were wide open on both sides of the road. Thankfully for the inhabitants of El Paso, these exits had concrete walls on either side of them, making it easy to create a seamless wall. With Fabens, as soon as one zombie walked off of the main road, they had a conga line following them.

The drive was peaceful until Rodriguez reached the checkpoint, which was a few miles outside of the city. This heavily armed location was re-fortified with double the armed manpower since the previous attack by Hammond and his crew. It stood as a major obstacle to Rodriguez and his plans.

As he approached, one of the guards waved him over. He pulled up, staring through the tinted windows at the surly guard. Rodriguez assumed he was tired of the constant stream of vehicles trying to leave the city. He rolled down the window, and the guard’s surly expression relaxed.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said with relief. “Please proceed, sir.”

Rodriguez nodded and rolled up the window as he carried on. He glanced in the rearview mirror, seeing a few dozen armed men, as well as two pickup trucks with heavy machine guns on the back.

Let’s hope getting back through is that easy, he thought, because if not, we’re going to be torn to shreds in a hurry.

He sped down the interstate towards Fabens, unsure of what he was about to find there that day. He knew that everyone in the town was on edg already, with the threat of the creeping death headed their way, and people like Angel roaming free among their ranks.

He couldn’t imagine what was going through the civilians’ minds, watching people who didn’t care if they lived or died working on the town defenses.

After a short drive, he arrived in Fabens, pulling off the interstate. There was some work being done on the east-facing on ramps. Several cars and other debris lined the road, blocking it off. While they were trying their best, it was clear they didn’t have the manpower or resources to properly defend the town.

Rodriguez pulled up to the command center, stopping in the parking lot. There was a crowd in the middle, with Cartel members on one side and the townsfolk on the other.

“That’s never going to work, old man!” Angel bellowed. “You don’t have a clue what you are doing!”

Rufus snarled. “Motherfucker, I was blowing shit up back before your daddy fucked up and didn’t pull out of that two-dollar whore,” he barked.

Angel flicked open a switchblade, taking a step towards Rufus, and Rodriguez let out a sharp whistle.

“Enough!” he yelled, his voice booming. He walked over and smacked the blade out of Angel’s hand as if disciplining a child. “Put that away.” He ignored the younger Rivas’ glare and turned to the rest of the Cartel members behind him. “Is there not enough going on without this nonsense? If we’re going to survive this, we must work together.”

“Tell that to the old man over there,” Angel scoffed. “He’s the one who doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

Rufus opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Rodriguez turned and glared down at Angel.

“You would be wise to learn from your elders,” he said, voice low and menacing.

Angel sneered. “If he had anything worth teaching, I just might,” he replied.

“Step up to me again,” Rufus called from behind Rodriguez, “and I’ll teach you how to fit a boot inside an asshole.”

Angel roared, taking another step, but Rodriguez flattened a hand against his chest and shoved back. Finally the younger Rivas grunted and tore away from him, heading towards his vehicle with an entourage.

“Where are you going?” Rodriguez snapped.

“I’m going to Van Horn to blow some shit up,” Angel called back over his shoulder. “Unless you think we need to protect those precious buildings?”

Rodriguez waved at him dismissively. “Do whatever you need to,” he said. “Just do something productive.”

Angel didn’t respond, getting into his SUV with three other Cartel members. They peeled out of the driveway, speeding off towards the next battlefront.

Rodriguez looked around at the rest of the group, and took in a deep breath. “I take it Javier has already been by?” he asked when he realized that Leon, Rufus, and Clara were the only ones present of the Fabens team.

“Yeah, he picked up Sparks, Trenton, and Jeff to help him in Van Horn,” Leon explained. “Said something about distracting zombies. Didn’t really question it, since we figured you had a plan.”

Rodriguez chuckled. “That might be a little too generous of a description,” he muttered.

“Well, anything that buys us more time to get ready is going to be welcome,” Clara piped up.

“Based on Angel’s reaction, he seems convinced you need more time,” Rodriguez replied with a sigh. “What were you two fighting about anyway?”

Rufus jutted out his chin. “Fighting about the humdinger,” he explained.

“I…” Rodriguez blinked at him, and then shook his head. “I don’t really know what that is.”

“Well come on,” the old man replied, waving for him to follow, “I’ll show you.”

Rufus led the group around to the back of the command center, where there was a school bus parked. There was a stepladder that led up into the rear, and the old man led Rodriguez inside.

When Rodriguez stepped in, his eyes widened. “Whoa,” he breathed.

“Glad you approve,” Rufus replied with a lopsided grin.

Rodriguez stared around the interior of the bus. All of the seats had been ripped out, replaced by fifty-gallon drums with wires sticking out of them. A dozen or so of these were clamped into place.

“What’s in these?” he asked as he cautiously moved through the vehicle, inspecting the drums.

“Some have high test gasoline,” Rufus explained. “While a couple have a proprietary mixture of household and industrial strength cleaning products that will add a little pop to the explosion.”

Rodriguez knelt down to look at the fuse, which ran down into the floorboard. “And this?”

“That goes to the gas tank for that extra boost,” Rufus replied with a smirk.

“This all looks solid,” Rodriguez admitted, standing up. “What was Angel whining about?”

The old man sighed. “Well, he was insistent on making it a remote detonation, which is a terrible idea,” he explained. “All it would take is one jackwagon using the wrong walkie-talkie frequency to set this thing off. If we don’t tie this just right, all we’re going to accomplish is letting those dead fucks know what direction to keep coming.”

“Having a person set this off sounds like a good idea,” Rodriguez mused, rubbing his chin, “except for their life expectancy.”

Rufus nodded. “Yeah, that is a concern,” he agreed, “but Clara and I are going to head up to the detonation zone to find a hiding spot for the lucky person who gets to set this off.”

“I didn’t think there was much to the north of here,” Rodriguez replied, raising an eyebrow.

“There ain’t,” the old man confirmed, “but from some of the satellite imagery it looks like there are some storage buildings. We don’t need Fort Knox, just something sturdy to hang out in for a few hours.”

Rodriguez nodded. “Do you require anything from me?” he asked.

“Nah, I think we can handle it,” Rufus replied with a shrug.

“Very well, then,” Rodriguez replied. “I will do my best to buy you as much time as possible.”

The old man wagged a finger at him. “Now that we can use,” he said.

The duo hopped down from the bus, and Rodriguez looked to Leon.

“Defenses going well here?” he asked.

“If those things do make the mistake of coming our way,” Leon declared, “we’re gonna make them pay.”

Rodriguez chuckled and nodded. “Good to hear,” he said. “Well, unless you need me for anything, I’ll be on my way to Van Horn.”

“I’ll have an updated status situation if you want to send someone by to pick it up this afternoon,” Leon replied.

Rodriguez shook his head. “Won’t be necessary,” he said. “My men will be here at five AM to head off to Van Horn. We know the horde will be getting there in the morning, so it should give us time to prepare.”

“Understood,” Leon replied with a sharp nod. “We’ll be ready.”

Rodriguez raised a hand and headed off with the Cartel members, jumping into an SUV and speeding off for Van Horn.

“Well girl,” Rufus said, clearing his throat. “We got a full day ahead of us. What do you say we get rolling?”

Clara jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “I got our weapons stashed in the office,” she said. “I’ll grab them and see if Ethel can spare a to-go canister of coffee.”

He grinned. “Good plan,” he replied. “I’ll meet you out front with the truck.”

“You two be careful out there,” Leon said. “I don’t want to face Sparks if something happens to you.”

Rufus chuckled. “You’re wiser than you look, man,” he said, clapping Leon on the shoulder.

CHAPTER THREE

Rufus drove the truck across the bridge to the north, out of Fabens. Pretty much as soon as they crossed the bridge, they were in a desert wasteland. He took it slow, partially to stay safe, but partially to just enjoy the drive since they weren’t going all that far.

In less than a mile, they came up on a dirt road intersection. He stopped to look around as Clara stared at the map.

“Looks like the buildings are about half a mile to the east, here,” she said.

“Anything to the north?” Rufus asked.

She studied the map, and then shook her head. “Nothing but wasteland.”

“This is the humdinger spot, then,” he declared. “Park it just off the road, set it off, and those fuckers are wandering the desert until they fall apart.”

Clara nodded. “Let’s go find ourselves a hiding spot, then.”

Rufus made the turn to head towards the buildings, which was about a half a mile or so from the intersection. The drive was a bit bumpy due to the unkempt dirt road.

“Why would anybody build something like this down such a messed up road?” Clara wondered out loud.

Rufus shrugged. “Well, if you ain’t got money, you build wherever you can,” he said. “Land like this don’t cost that much.”

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckled. “You’re not wrong,” he admitted. “Spent most of my life living in a backwater town. Never had much money, but what money I did have went a whole lot further.”

“I can think of worse ways to live life,” Clara said.

They approached the two moderately-sized buildings, about the size of standard family-sized homes. As they pulled up, a few zombies came out from behind one of the structures, shambling their way towards the tall chain link fence.

“Looks like someone had our idea from the start,” Rufus muttered.

There were six ghouls in total, looking like a complete family. Parents, grandparents, and some kids. Everyone had significant numbers of bite barks on them, at least that’s what Rufus assumed since the clothing was torn and bloody.

Only one of them, a teenage girl, was unscathed. The only signs of trauma were massive blood stains around her face and on her clothes. Though neither of the two said anything, the story of what happened to this family was painfully obvious.

“Should we take them out?” Clara asked hoarsely. “Or keep looking?”

“Time is short, and there ain’t that many of ‘em,” Rufus replied, shaking his head. “Plus, I doubt there’s any other place within walking distance of the bomb site.”

She turned to him, eyes widening. “Why walking distance?” she asked. “Isn’t the triggerman going to have a vehicle?”

He shook his head. “Rule number one of surviving a war,” he drawled. “Always assume shit is going to go sideways.”

“Fair enough,” she agreed with a sigh.

“Besides,” Rufus continued, “they’re behind a locked gate, so it’ll be like shooting fish in a barrel.”

“You know that’s actually quite difficult, don’t you?” Clara asked with a smirk. “The water causes a dramatic slowdown of the bullet after about three feet.”

Rufus chuckled. “Would dynamite in a barrel get the job done?” he teased.

“As long as you’re okay with fish sticks instead of a filet, yeah,” she replied with a shrug.

“Hell, at this point, I’d be thrilled to have anything that didn’t come out of a tin can,” Rufus moaned.

She snorted. “You and me both, buddy,” she agreed.

They got out of the vehicle and headed towards the gate. Most of the zombies had reached it by that point, and thrashed about against the chain link. The lock on the gate ran through a metal chain connecting two portions of the fence.

“Looks like that’s pretty sturdy,” Rufus said.

Clara nodded. “That’s good, because I’m not in a hurry to do any running,” she quipped.

He laughed and pulled out his handgun. He aimed at the tallest zombie, most likely the father, and then paused.

“Where are my manners?” he asked, stepping back. “Would you like to do the honors?”

She shrugged and nodded. “Sure, a little target practice couldn’t hurt,” she replied.

The old man handed the gun over and she steadied herself, aiming carefully. She quickly popped off three rounds in rapid succession, dropping the zombies efficiently.

Rufus nodded in appraisal. “I’m guessing you’re a Texas girl?” he drawled.

“What gave it away?” she asked.

He inclined his head to her hands. “Three shots, three kills,” he replied.

“Wanna see if I can make it six for six?” she asked, a twinkle in her eye.

“Be my guest,” Rufus replied, waving towards the remaining ghouls with a flourish.

She smirked and took aim again, quickly snapping off three more shots that found their marks. Within seconds, the threat had been ended, and Rufus curled his fingers into an a-okay sign, giving her a wink.

He walked to the back of the truck and pulled out a crowbar, beading back to the gate lock. It only took him a few moments of work to crack it, allowing them entry.

The duo moved cautiously through the open area leading up to the buildings which were about fifteen yards away from the gate.

“Let’s clear the outside first,” Rufus suggested quietly.

“Good call,” Clara replied with a nod, and they did a quick sweep of the area, staying as far away from the structures as possible to avoid something jumping out at them.

They circled around, not seeing any movement before turning their attention to the buildings.

Rufus approached the first one, jiggling the handle of the secured door, finding it locked. They looked to the second building, where the front door hung ajar. They moved slowly, Clara aiming downrange and Rufus clutching the crowbar.

They reached the door and he pulled out a flashlight, shining it inside. There was no immediate movement, so he eased the door open and they swept the room.

It looked as if several attacks had taken place, with multiple bloodstains on the floor and walls. The room was mostly wide open, with some boxes and cots set up in the corner. It looked like it had been a storage room of some kind that the family had turned into their own little shelter that had quickly turned deadly.

“Looks like it’s clear,” Rufus said.

Just as he finished speaking, there was a light moan from the back corner, and they both swung towards the noise.

“Or not,” he muttered.

They moved cautiously towards the source of the noise, weapons at the ready. Finally they grew close enough to see what had been causing it. One of the younger family members appeared to have been a victim of the other zombies, having been feasted on too much for it to head outside with the others.

Most of its legs were completely gone, rotting muscle falling off of the bones. Its upper body was a mess as well, with one arm missing and the other with a minimal amount of meat on it. It didn’t have the strength nor the limbs to move far, simply writhing about on the ground.

The duo stared at it for a moment, both giving silent condolences to someone who’d died a horrific death. Finally, Rufus stepped forward, driving the crowbar through its forehead, ending it’s tortured existence.

Clara grabbed a blanket from one of the cots and brought it over, tossing it over the unmoving form. “Whoever gets this job probably doesn’t want to see that when they get here,” she said.

“Valid point,” Rufus agreed. “Coe on, let’s get the gear out of the back.”

The duo headed out and back to the truck, picking up a couple bags of goods containing food and a radio, among other things like a camping light. They set it down, putting the light by the door.

“Well, it ain’t the coziest place in the world,” Rufus drawled, “but it’ll get them through the night.”

“I’ve certainly stayed in worse places,” Clara added.

He shot her a curious look, and she scoffed.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve never gone home with the wrong person from the bar before,” she said.

Rufus chuckled. “Got an ex wife from that exact scenario,” he declared. “Well, at least I think I did. It was dollar shot night and it was payday, so I don’t remember much from that week.”

“Good to see some things stay the same regardless of generation,” Clara quipped.

They shared a laugh and headed back to the truck to begin their drive back to Fabens.

CHAPTER FOUR

As Rodriguez drove towards Van Horn, he kept an eye on the sides of the road. There wasn’t a whole lot of cover, given the desert landscape, but there were a handful of dense green bushes that popped up from time to time.

As he reached a few miles of the target, something caught his eye. It wasn’t much, just a reflection off of a front vehicle decal. If anybody else saw it, they might ignore it, but to his trained senses he knew it was something much more significant.

Hammond and his team were somewhere on the road, and the reflection was enough to clue him in.

Ballsy to hide out that close to all the action, he thought. Granted, of everything else they’ve done recently, this is certainly the least dangerous.

He put that knowledge to the side of his mind as he pulled up half a mile short of the bridge in Van Horn. There were three truckloads of Cartel members standing around. Some hung out behind the vehicles, prepping tools like welders, while others kicked a soccer ball around to pass the time.

Rodriguez got out, eyes blazing. “What is going on here?” He barked. “Why aren’t you working?”

Jose approached him, palms up. “Sir, we went to start working on the bridge, but within minutes there were a hundred of those things below us,” he said quickly. “We saw more heading our way from the north, so we quickly retreated until the others could do their jobs.”

Rodriguez’ shoulders relaxed and he nodded. “Very well,” he agreed, “you made the correct decision.” He pulled out his radio and fiddled with the dial before raising it to his lips. “Javier, do you copy?” he asked.

“I’m here, boss,” Javier finally replied.

Rodriguez straightened. “What is your situation?” he asked.

“We are half a mile north of town,” came the reply, “setting up the final radio beacon.”

Rodriguez nodded. “Okay, I am sending another team your way,” he said.

“Sir, we have the situation under control,” Javier protested.

“We have already lost too much time, and need to expedite things,” Rodriguez countered.

“Understood,” came the immediate reply. “Have them come around on the dirt trail that begins a mile west of the bridge. I will have someone meet them.”

“They will be there soon,” Rodriguez replied, and put the radio away, waving for Jose to approach.

“Yes boss?” he asked politely.

Rodriguez motioned to the men. “Who are your two least skilled workers?”

Jose glanced around, and then motioned to the two men kicking the soccer ball back and forth.

His superior shook his head with a sigh. “Why am I not surprised?” he muttered, and then let out a loud whistle to get their attention.

The men looked over, noticing who was summoning them, and their eyes widened like scolded children. They left the ball in the middle of the road, walking over with hunched shoulders, tails between their legs.

“Yes boss?” one mumbled.

“What are your names?” Rodriguez asked.

“I’m Ricardo, and this is Armando,” the Cartel member replied, and his partner gave a nervous nod.

“Well Ricardo and Armando,” Rodriguez said in a level tone, “you just volunteered to go help Javier and the others distract those things so we can get to work on the bridge.” He pointed down the interstate. “The dirt trail is half a mile that way, and shouldn’t be more than a couple of miles to the end. And since you have a lot of energy to spare, you can run it.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “If you’re not there in twenty minutes, consider yourselves relieved of duty.”

Both men shared a terrified look. Being relieved of duty meant they’d be left out there to fend for themselves. Neither man spoke, they simply broke out into a sprint, running as hard as they could towards the trail.

Jose’s brow furrowed. “Sir, forgive me,” he said slowly, “but you’re not really going to leave them out here, are you?”

Rodriguez smirked. “Of course not,” he murmured so that only his companion could hear. “However, an example needed to be made that this is not a time to be playing around.”

Jose nodded jerkily.

“Now go, finish making preparations,” Rodriguez said loudly, and his subordinate rushed off to continue prepping the tools.

On the north side of town, a quarter mile from the nearest building, Javier flipped on the last radio beacon. It blasted some random Tejano music, echoing in the air.

Jeff shook his head with disgust. “Still think we should have gotten some Slayer,” he muttered.

Javier nodded and sighed.

“Wait, why are you nodding?” Jeff asked, blinking at him.

“Because I agree with you,” Javier replied.

Jeff gaped at him and shook his head. “You listen to Slayer?” he asked.

“Of course, doesn’t everyone?” Javier asked flippantly. “I saw them a few years ago when they played Mexico City. Pretty sure I still have hearing loss from that night.”

Jeff chuckled. “You just don’t strike me as a typical Slayer fan,” he admitted.

“Well there was at least twenty-thousand of us there that night,” Javier replied.

“And there is your daily ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’ lesson,” Sparks cut in, shooting Jeff a pointed look.

Before he could reply, an SUV sped towards them, slamming on the brakes and skidding to a stop a few feet away.

Angel burst out of the driver’s seat, his face red.

“Although there are exceptions to that rule,” Sparks muttered.

“What are you just standing around for!” Angel barked. “It’s time to go blow some shit up!”

Javier shook his head. “That’s not the purpose of the mission,” he replied.

Angel glared at him, stepping up and jutting out his chin. “Who are you to tell me what my business is, little man?” he demanded, sneering.

Javier withered under his stare.

The younger Rivas chuckled, throwing him a wink. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he drawled. He headed back to his vehicle where the other men stood waiting for him.

“What part of town do you want to start in?” Sparks asked.

Angel spread his arms and grinned. “You can start anywhere you want, sweetheart,” he declared. “We’re going to go raise some hell and have some fun. Oh, and if you see a tripwire running across the street, you might want to avoid it.” He jumped back into the SUV with his crew and did a burnout before peeling out, heading towards town.

Trenton sighed. “That’s going to make life a little more difficult,” he said.

“Doesn’t change what we need to do,” Sparks replied, taking a deep breath. “If we’re lucky, his stupidity will draw them over to him.”

Trenton raised an eyebrow. “And if we’re unlucky?” he asked.

“Then his stupidity is going to be the full weight of the town down on us,” she said, and stretched her arms above her head. “Regardless, we need to get moving.”

Javier jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “We need to go pick up the reinforcements at the trail before we start working,” he said.

“I can handle that,” Trenton piped up, raising his hand. “Just let me know where you are going to start, and we’ll come find you.”

“There is a hospital on the far east side of town, about three blocks south,” Sparks said. “It’s the only two-story building on that side of town, so it’s our best bet to get the sound out.”

Jeff furrowed his brow. “Isn’t that going to be dangerous, though?” he asked. “Big buildings usually means a crowd.”

“Well, we did bring you along for more than generalized assumptions,” Javier teased.

The skinhead chuckled and shook his head. “Yeah, I probably deserved that one.”

“Probably?” Sparks asked, crossing her arms.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jeff drawled, waving a hand at her. “Are we doing this, or do I have to go through sensitivity training, first?”

Trenton waved as he turned towards the trail. “You be safe,” he called. “I’ll be over there as soon as I can. I got my radio, so I’ll let you know when I’m close.” He took off at a jog along the desert landscape, and the others got into their SUV.

Javier fired it up and drove down the road to a house on the far edge of town. He pulled into the driveway and cut the engine.

“We walk from here,” he said. “We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves until we are ready.”

The trio got out of the vehicle and geared up. They grabbed guns, knives, and a canvas bag full of speakers. Javier heaved the bag over his shoulder and stumbled a bit as the weight of it threw him off.

“You want me to get that?” Jeff asked as he caught him, helping him straighten up.

Javier shook his head, giving him a sheepish smile. “No, I’d much rather have you focused on beating those things down than being a pack mule,” he said.

“I can do that,” the skinhead replied with a sharp nod.

As Javier struggled under the weight of the bag, he pulled out a machete to give himself a little bit of defense. Both Sparks and Jeff followed suit, the former unlatching her handgun holster for quick access.

The trio walked to the edge of the building, with Sparks in the lead. She peeked down the street, seeing five ghouls about a half block away. From where they were, they could hear the speakers they’d set up a quarter mile away. It echoed against the buildings, leading down the street.

“We already got a handful of them,” she whispered.

“Just want to wait them out?” Javier asked.

She shook her head. “No, we need to get moving.”

“Time to earn my paycheck,” Jeff muttered, and stepped around her to head towards the zombies. They were half a block away and closing, but when they spotted him they moaned with excitement and shuffled a little faster.

The first ghoul, what used to be a young petite teenage girl, was a few yards ahead of the rest of the group. Jeff stepped up to it, grabbing its shirt and leg, and quickly pile-drived the corpse into the ground. Shards of skull and brain matter splattered across the pavement.

“Little dramatic, don’t you think?” Sparks teased, stepping up beside him to survey his handiwork.

Jeff shrugged. “Been in the car too long, I needed to stretch a bit,” he replied.

Sparks chuckled and stepped up to the next ghoul, a well-dressed corpse in a suit and tie. She didn’t mess around, simply swinging her machete and slicing into the side of its head.

One by one the duo alternated kills, slashing and stabbing away until they were the only things left standing. As sparks dropped the final ghoul, Javier stepped out from behind cover and caught up to them.

“You guys are quite the team,” he said as he looked around at the pile of bodies.

Jeff grinned. “Been fighting together since this shit began,” he declared.

“Still, it’s impressive,” Javier replied. “We have guys who have been together for years who look like two drunks on ice when they get into a fight.”

Jeff raised an eyebrow. “And yet you guys were able to take over El Paso,” he quipped. “Not sure what that says about the town.”

“I would answer, but I don’t want to offend,” Javier replied, lip curling.

The skinhead shrugged. “Hell, I don’t live there,” he drawled, “have at it.”

“Or maybe we could save that for the ride home?” Sparks prompted, holding up her machete.

The men nodded in agreement, both a little sheepish at her parental tone.

The trio made it to the end of the street, two blocks from the hospital. As they reached it, Sparks peeked around the corner and spotted a couple dozen zombies on the side street wandering towards them. It appeared they were drawn by the music in the field. The ghouls looked around frantically, trying to get a sense of where the noise was coming from.

“There’s a lot more than we can handle,” Sparks murmured, “so we’re going to have to make a break for it.”

Jeff raised an eyebrow. “And go where?” he asked.

Sparks turned and looked again, seeing they were still half a block away. She glanced up the street, spotting a wooden privacy fence two houses up.

“Get to the other side of the fence and lay low,” she suggested. “Hopefully they’ll be more interested in the music than us.”

Jeff shrugged. “Fuck it, let’s do it,” he agreed.

Sparks led the trio out, quickly sprinting across the road. As they went, the moans from the ghouls intensified. Within seconds, however, they were across the street and headed towards the fence without looking back.

Sparks was the first one around, taking cover behind the six foot tall structure. As she whirled around the corner, she startled at the sight of a zombie standing right there. Instinctively she jumped, leading with her knee and catching the ghoul in the chest.

The force of the impact sent them crashing to the ground, with several of the zombie’s ribs cracking as the full force of the knee strike hit.

Jeff rounded her, jamming his machete into the ghoul’s head to end the threat. The two of them scanned the yard for more enemies, letting out sighs of relief when they saw none.

“You okay?” the skinhead asked.

Sparks nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.”

They worked back around to the fence, with Sparks taking point again, gently moving Javier behind her.

The first few ghouls from the side street came into view, with several of them looking in their direction, knowing that the three humans had recently run that way. After a few tense moments of them staring, the creatures were distracted by the sounds of music in the distance.

Sparks breathed another sigh of relief as the ghouls headed north towards the speaker setup. As the leaders left, so did the rest, a caravan of zombies heading off to the field.

“We’re clear,” she murmured.

“None of them are coming this way?” Javier asked.

She shook her head. “Nope, they’re going for the music,” she confirmed.

“Well, let’s get moving before they change their minds,” Jeff suggested.

Sparks led them through the yard, staying away from the road for additional cover. When they got to the other side, she peeked out from the fence, making sure there weren’t any more surprises. Despite being several blocks deep, the music was still strong enough for them to hear, however faint.

“The hospital is going to be too far away,” she said quietly.

Javier raised an eyebrow. “Too far away for what?” he asked.

“Listen,” she said, tapping her ear. The group quieted down and they could barely hear the music, and both men’s eyes widened.

“Shit,” Jeff muttered. “I mean, I’m all for busting heads just for the hell of it, but it would be nice if it wasn’t all for nothing.”

Sparks reached into one of her combat pants pockets, pulling out a cell phone.

Javier furrowed his brow. “Pretty sure that even before the zombies you wouldn’t be able to get reception out here,” he said.

“I don’t doubt it, however these things are still useful,” Sparks explained. “Saved my ass a few times.” She pulled up the timer function. “Okay, we have kill switches for the big setups, right?” she asked.

“Yes,” Javier confirmed with a nod.

“We’re doing what, an hour for the one at the hospital?” she asked.

He nodded again. “Yes, that should be enough time to pull whatever we’re going to be able to pull,” he replied.

Sparks fiddled with the phone, setting the timer for an hour and a half. She started it and set the device on the ground.

“In ninety minutes, that thing is going to start blaring,” she said. “So that gives us half an hour to get set up at the hospital.”

Javier pursed his lips. “But won’t that just draw them here and stop them from hearing the other sound?” he asked.

“After about ten minutes of going off, the volume decreases to a little more than a murmur,” Sparks explained. “It may keep a few of them here, but not enough to matter.”

“We’d better get moving then,” Javier said.

The redhead looked over at Jef who stood by the fence, staring down the road towards the hospital. “What do you see, big fella?” she asked softly.

“Couple dozen in the road,” he replied. “Just came out from a side street.”

Sparks joined him at the fence, looking out at the new obstacle. “We’re just going to have to risk it,” she said, and pointed to an open field just before the hospital parking lot. The zombies were about fifty yards away from the edge of it. “We’ll just cut across the field and get inside,” she suggested. “Even if they follow us in, that place is big enough to lose them.”

“Plus we’re not going to be there that long,” Javier added. “The setup is wired, so all we have to do is pull it out of the bag and aim the speakers.”

Jeff shrugged. “Eh, fuck it,” he replied, “worst case is I get to bash in a few heads with medical equipment.”

“That’s the spirit,” Sparks said playfully, giving him a light smack on the back.

The three of them headed out, pumping their legs hard and racing towards the entrance of the hospital. It was a medium sized building, taking up the majority of the block. With two floors it loomed over the street, and looked relatively unscathed from the apocalypse.

There were, however, a handful of zombies in the parking lot, who turned their attention towards the trio as they approached. As they ran towards the building, the ghouls on the side street took notice as well, moaning and lumbering towards them. The group ignored them, instead focused entirely on the front entrance to the building.

Sparks was the first to the pavement, with a clear path to the door. As she raced forward, the mantra in her head continued over and over, Nothing is in the doorway. Nothing is in the doorway.

Her silent prayer was answered as they approached, the front swinging doors wide open and free of any corpses. She glanced back to the parking lot, seeing the closest zombie was still twenty yards away, so she took a beat to rest.

“Javier, you secure the door once we’re inside,” she instructed. “Jeff and I will clear the lobby.”

The men nodded, and she burst into the building, machete at the ready. The light pierced through the front glass, illuminating the lobby. As Sparks stepped into it, there was movement from the far corner.

“Two o’clock,” she declared, “I got it.” The redhead raced towards the movement. As she grew closer, her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting conditions, revealing two ghouls struggling to get up off of the ground.

She executed a forceful straight leg kick, hitting the closest zombie in the shoulder and sending it tumbling back into the other one. They slammed into the wall before hitting the ground. She hacked at their heads, cracking them both open like coconuts in short order.

She turned just as Jeff decapitated another zombie that had wandered out from behind the front desk, while Javier did what he could to secure the door. He managed to latch the dual swinging doors, giving it a tiny bit of security.

“Give me a hand with the couch,” he said, and Jeff immediately grabbed one end of the waiting room couch as Javier grabbed the other. They managed to move it in front of the door, just as the first wave of ghouls arrived outside.

“That ain’t gonna hold many of them,” Jeff said, “but it’ll buy us some time.”

As Sparks began to speak to get the group moving, she heard moans coming from down the hallway just past the lobby doors. The noise put her on edge, sounding like more than one.

The boys noticed her tense up.

“Sparks, what’s up?” Jeff asked.

She held up a finger to keep them quiet, and strained her ears. As they walked towards her position, the moans were clearer from the other side of the door.

“The stairwell is most likely on the outer wall,” Sparks whispered. “Get in there, hang a right, and get moving.”

They nodded in agreement, ready to move on her mark. She took a deep breath and readied her weapon before throwing open the door. As soon as she did, a zombie snarled at her from three yards away.

Sparks lowered her shoulder and bashed into the ghoul’s chest, sending it stumbling back. The creature, a nurse in tattered and bloody scrubs, crashed to the ground. Just past her was the main hallway that ran to the right and left, as well as straight ahead.

The lighting was even dimmer back there, with some emergency lighting spread about that was clearly running low on juice as they flickered on and off.

Even in the low light, however, she could still see movement. “Ten, maybe more,” she whispered. “Be careful.”

She led the group past the fallen zombie nurse, hanging a right down the main hallway. As she made the turn, she spotted a pack of zombies crowded in the hall, a collection of patients and unfortunate medical personnel who apparently didn’t survive the initial onslaught.

“Rumble through them?” Jeff whispered.

Sparks shook her head. “Let’s try the other way first.”

They reversed course and jogged down the other side of the hallway. As they went by, Jeff kicked the nurse that struggled to get back up, sending it back onto the ground.

The other path was a bit clearer, with only a couple of creatures in the relatively narrow hallway. The first zombie came up quick, and Sparks swung her blade into the side of its head. As she removed her weapon, Jeff stepped past her to crack the skull of the next creature.

The rest of the hallway was clear, leading to the outer edge of the building. The trio raced down the hall, looking for the doors for a stairs sign, but seeing nothing.

Sparks led them up to the turn down the outer hallway. She glanced around the corner, relieved to see there were only a few zombies about halfway down. She glanced back to the main area, and only a lone monster had managed to stay within eyesight of them.

“We got a few to deal with, at least from what I can see,” she murmured. “Watch the doors as you go by.”

Jeff and Javier nodded, following her out. They moved at a slow pace, staying as silent as possible. The emergency lighting was still dim, the sun from outside barely peeking through with patient rooms on either side of them. The light illuminated the rooms with just a little coming through the glass windows that looked into them from the hallway.

With no immediate threat, the trio moved cautiously down, Sparks slowing before every door to make sure it was closed. The three ghouls down the hall began to lumber towards them, but they were still fifteen yards away.

After finding a few doors closed, Sparks startled when a zombie slammed into one of the windows, causing her to raise her weapon to strike. She relaxed when she saw the door was secure.

The three of them looked at the creature, what used to be an older gentleman, and it was covered in bites. It scratched and moaned and gnashed against the window. A few seconds later, several more ghouls joined in, a mix of civilians and hospital personnel, plus a badly mangled security guard.

All Sparks could do was shake her head in disbelief.

“It’s like they locked them in there,” Jeff breathed.

Javier shook his head. “Or one infected person turned, and everything snowballed,” he suggested.

Sparks whipped to the side, noticing the first of the hallway zombies were within five yards of them. She casually jammed the tip of her machete into its head.

“Come on,” she said, “we can’t do anything for them.”

The trio continued to work their way down the hallway. Both Jeff and Sparks stepped up to dispatch the two remaining zombies, clearing the way down to the back wall of the hospital. As they got halfway down, Javier spotted a small sign on the wall.

“Hey guys,” he said, “I found it.”

Sparks and Jeff headed back to him, seeing the door with the stairwell sign above it.

“Just glad it wasn’t looking for us,” Jeff quipped.

Sparks put her hand on the door release, readying her machete. She shoved it open, hoping for no resistance. When she found the stairwell empty, she let out a sigh of relief, and moved inside.

The stairs were better lit than the hallway, as there was a skylight at the very top, allowing sunlight to pour in. It didn’t seem to be an emergency stairwell, more a normal one that patients and doctors alike would have used.

Sparks hesitated briefly when she spotted blood stains on the floor, and strained her ears. She didn’t hear any movement or moaning, and so proceeded up to the next landing.

“Shit, no roof access,” Jeff muttered.

“Maybe it’s in a maintenance area?” Javier asked.

Sparks checked her watch. There was fifteen minutes left to get set up and stay on schedule with the cell phone alarm.

“We’ll do a quick sweep and try to find it,” she said. “If we can’t, then we set up in the corner room.”

The others nodded and she got into position at the door. She gently pushed it open, looking down the hallway to the right. She spotted a lone zombie about ten yards away that was fixated on a window looking into a patient room.

She motioned to the others, holding up one finger to signify the one ghoul. She pointed to Jeff, motioning for him to focus his attention on the left while she dealt with the zombie on the right.

At his nod, she burst from the door, racing towards the ghoul and lopping its head clean off. She remained vigilant, looking down the hallway and seeing nothing.

“Get some, you goddamn cocksucking motherfuckers!” Jeff bellowed, and Sparks whipped around to find the skinhead hacking wildly at a group of ten zombies coming up the hallway.

She quickly dropped her machete and drew her handgun. “Jeff, move!” she barked.

He glanced back and then ducked out of the way. As soon as he was clear, she unloaded shots. One after another in rapid succession, she hit each target square in the forehead, dropping corpses like flies.

Within a matter of seconds, her magazine was empty and the threat had been neutralized.

Jeff let out a yell, hands over his ears, shaking his head back and forth. “Fucking hell, man!” he said loudly. “Ears are ringing like I’m front row at Maiden.”

“Better than being eaten,” Sparks replied dryly.

“Still,” he groaned, lowering his hands. “How are you not doubled over in pain right now? That shit was loud as hell.”

She shrugged. “Years of firearm training with substandard hearing protection,” she explained. “Plus, it wouldn’t surprise me if I had some inner ear damage from taking too many bows to the head from folding chairs.”

Javier’s eyebrows hit his hairline.

Jeff chuckled. “It’s a long story,” he said.

“Something for the ride home, I suppose,” Javier replied.

“Come on,” Sparks said, holstering her empty gun. “Let’s find that access.”

She led them down the hallway, everyone carefully stepping over the corpses on the floor. They reached the end of the hall, looking around a corner and seeing a zombie standing in an open doorway about ten yards away with its back to them.

She held up her hand, forcing the other to stop, and quietly walked towards the unsuspecting ghoul. As she got close to the creature, it heard her and turned, but didn’t have any time to attack. She kicked it hard in the back, sending it flying into the room.

She quickly reached in and grabbed the door, slamming it shut and trapping it in.

The noise from the door slamming caused some other creatures on the floor to moan, although it didn’t sound like too many of them. She looked towards the far end of the hall, seeing a trio of shamblers appear from around the corner.

Sparks brandished her machete, letting Jeff know it was safe to join her on the front lines. “No more hearing loss today if I can help it,” she muttered.

“That is appreciated,” Jeff replied.

The duo walked towards the threat, making sure to check the doors to see if they were closed. With three quick strikes, the coast was clear. They listened closely for a few moments, waiting to see if they heard any more moans. Nothing came.

After a moment, Jeff let out a loud whistle, which was followed by more precious silence.

“That takes care of that,” he said.

Sparks nodded. “Let’s find that roof access.”

They headed down the next hallway on the outer rim of the building, finally finding a maintenance closet. Jeff reached for the door, but Sparks stopped him and knocked on it first. A second later, a loud thud smacked into the other side.

“Can’t be too careful,” she said, raising her machete.

Jeff nodded in thanks and threw open the door. Inside was a badly damaged zombie with multiple bites all over its body. It looked like the poor creature had been feasted upon before taking shelter in the maintenance closet to die alone. With one quick swipe, the skinhead put it out of its misery.

They stepped into the room, spotting a ladder on the back wall that led up to a hatch. Jeff clambered up and shoved it open, letting out a groan as the sunlight glared into his eyes.

“Fuck, blind and deaf,” he muttered. “This is a fun day.” He climbed up onto the roof and quickly swept the area, finding it empty. “We’re clear,” he called, and turned to help Sparks and then Javier up through the hatch.

The trio took a moment to let their eyes adjust and then scanned the area.

“I think if we set it up in the corner, that’ll cover the area we need,” Sparks suggested.

Javier nodded in agreement before rushing over to begin setting up. As he did, Jeff walked to the front of the building and looked down, letting out a low whistle of dismay.

“What’s up?” Sparks asked, cocking her head.

The skinhead nodded towards the edge and waved her over. She approached, and looked down, eyes widening.

On the ground were about a hundred zombies, all pressed against the front door.

“Do we know how to attract a crowd, or what?” Jeff joked.

She chuckled darkly. “We do have skills, no argument there,” she replied.

The two of them simply stared down at the horde. It was a sight to behold, and both were thankful they could use the back exit of the building.

Sparks looked out over the city towards the bridge, barely able to make it out in the distance. While buildings and houses blocked much of the road, she could see considerable movement on the streets.

“Once he sets that up, we’re going to have to move,” Sparks murmured.

Jeff nodded in agreement, and then the two tensed when a giant explosion went off about six blocks to the west.

“What the hell was that?!” he demanded.

Sparks grunted and shook her head. “Fucking Angel.” All she could do was stand on the roof and watch helplessly as zombies from all parts of town started moving, converging on the source of the explosion.

“Well, at least he made it easier for us to get out,” Jeff quipped.

Sparks pursed her lips with concern. “We’ll see.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Rodriguez stood by his vehicle, watching the others do another check on the tools. He laughed internally, knowing that the gear didn’t need any more checking, but they continued to work because he’d sent the two soccer playing knuckleheads into battle.

All of a sudden, a large explosion went off in the distance, and everyone startled.

“Boss, what was that?” Jose cried, running over in a panic.

He stayed silent for a moment, tamping down the anger. He knew it was Angel being reckless, not adhering to the plan and putting the others out there in danger. He couldn’t do anything about it, however.

“Our sign to move,” he said dryly, and then turned to the men. “Okay, listen up!” he barked. “You all know what your job is, so get in there and get it done.” He turned to Jose. “Do you have people on guard patrol?” he asked.

His subordinate shook his head. “That was Ricardo and Armando,” he replied.

“You, come here,” Rodriguez said, snapping at a random Cartel member.

The young man, who couldn’t be more than twenty, ran over. He didn’t say a word, simply standing there and waiting for his orders.

“When we get to the bridge, I want you to take point in front of everyone,” Rodriguez instructed. “You are to watch the interstate as well as the roads below. If you see a threat, you alert us. Can you handle that?”

The young man stood tall, nodding sharply.

“Good man,” Rodriguez said, clapping him on the shoulder, and then turned to the rest. “Let’s move like we have purpose,” he declared.

Everyone hopped into their vehicles and took off towards the bridge. Jose was in the lead vehicle, the others close behind. As they approached, there was a smattering of ghouls milling about. Some are over by the side of it, attracted by the noise and rising a cloud of smoke in the distance.

Jose didn’t slow down, opting to speed up instead, smacking into a few of the ones on the bridge and eliminating them quickly. He jumped out of the driver’s seat, another man popping out of the other side, and they grabbed some heavy duty tools out of the back and rushed over to the distracted zombies.

Some of them began to turn, but with the majority of their attention focused elsewhere, they were quickly eliminated.

The young man got out of his vehicle, racing to the front of the back and setting up shop. He looked down the interstate, not seeing much of anything. He ran to the other side, checking the road below. On the southern side there was nothing, which wasn’t a surprise given there were only a few buildings on that side. To the north were a significant number of ghouls, maybe a hundred or so.

However, they were all working their way north. He turned and gave Rodriguez a thumbs up, and his superior nodded in acknowledgement.

Rodriguez stood by his vehicle, watching as the Cartel members leapt into action. Two teams came together, grabbing tools and blow torches out of trucks, each going to one side of the road. They immediately began working on the metal barricades just after the bridge, destroying the joints so they could move the heavy metal pieces. Ultimately, they’d be assembled in the middle of the road in a V shape, like a giant cow catcher.

While they worked on that, others approached the bridge itself and began using a combination of sledgehammers and other heavy pieces of construction equipment to start ripping down the concrete barrier on the sides which would allow the ghouls trapped by the barricade to push over the edge.

Rodriguez knew this wasn’t going to end the threat, but he hoped it would at least buy them an hour or two so that more defenses could be set up.

As he stood and watched the group work, it dawned on him that he had an opportunity to break away. With nobody near him, he pulled out his walkie talkie and cupped a hand around it, murmuring into it.

Jose glanced back and spotted him, and Rodriguez waved him over. “I have to respond to a call,” he said. “I will not be long.”

“I can have someone go with you for protection,” Jose said, turning around to find someone, but his superior grabbed his arm.

“That won’t be necessary,” Rodriguez insisted. “There is no danger.”

“Are you sure?” Jose asked, chewing his bottom lip.

His superior didn’t respond, simply fixed him with a glare that asked him if he really wanted to question his authority.

The man withered underneath the hard stare, and raised a hand. “Okay, sir,” he said firmly. “I will stay on the men and make sure we get this done quickly.”

“Very good,” Rodriguez said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I will make sure Tiago hears of your exploits.”

Jose grinned widely, and then ran back into position.

Rodriguez hopped into his SUV, popping it into reverse and speeding back down the interstate. He kept his eyes trained to the side of the road, looking for the bushes that had contained the hidden vehicle. It didn’t take long, only a few miles, before he reached it.

As he pulled off the road, he honked the horn a few times. When nobody emerged, he shut off the vehicle and slowly stepped out. As soon as his boot hit the ground, Hammon and Whitaker burst out from behind cover, several yards apart, guns trained on him.

As soon as they realized who he was, they lowered their weapons.

“We’re good Landry,” Hammond called, “come on out.”

The Private emerged from the bushes, stumbling a bit as a branch clipped his foot. He muttered to himself as he regained his balance.

“Quite the hiding place you have there,” Rodriguez said dryly, raising an eyebrow.

Hammond waved a hand around his head. “As you can see, we didn’t really have a whole lot to work with,” he replied.

“You’re lucky I’m the only one who noticed,” Rodriguez quipped.

“About time we had something go our way,” Whitaker said with a sigh.

“Is the vehicle in good shame?” Rodriguez asked.

Hammond nodded. “Yes, pristine condition and ready to roll out,” he replied. “When are we doing this?”

“I’m going to have them work until sundown,” Rodriguez replied. “I will try and delay them as much as possible, but if I wait too long I run the risk of tipping someone off.”

The Sergeant nodded again. “Fair enough,” he agreed. “How do you want to play it?”

“I’ve sent out several scouts to various areas,” Rodriguez said, “so it won’t be unexpected for another vehicle to join the caravan. When you see us go by, wait five minutes before you pull out. That way you’ll catch up to us and it won’t look suspicious.”

“What’s your speed?” Hammond asked.

Rodriguez pursed his lips. “Good question,” he replied. “I’ll keep it at fifty until you join up. Just don’t come up too quickly, or it might put some of the men on edge. Last thing we want is years of battle experience kicking in.”

“Trust me, we know all about that,” Hammond muttered.

“How are we looking at the safehouse?” Whitaker asked.

“It is ready for your arrival,” Rodriguez assured her. “My associate Marcela is waiting for you and will have details on your man’s location, as well as some supplies to make the mission easier.”

Hammond pressed his palms together. “We appreciate that,” he said.

“That’s not all,” Rodriguez continued, raising a hand. “I have been tasked with setting up a viewing party for Tiago Rivas. He wants to watch the zombie horde move through town.”

Landry punched a fist into the air. “Looks like we get to kill two birds with one stone on this trip!”

“Ideally yes,” Rodriguez said slowly, “however, it is going to require some cooperation on your part.”

Landry cocked a brow. “How so?”

“Well, for starters,” the Cartel member said, raising a finger, “you are going to have to leave your man—”

“Mathis,” Landry cut in. “His name is Mathis.”

Rodriguez shook his head, offering a regretful gaze. “Apologies,” he said. “You are going to have to leave Mathis locked up until just before Tiago is exposed.”

Landry growled, but Hammond reached out and put a hand on his arm.

“Let the man talk before you start throwing a temper tantrum,” the Sergeant scolded.

Landry clenched his jaw and crossed his arms, nodding for them to continue.

“Tiago already suspects me of being behind the first attempt on his life,” Rodriguez explained with a sigh. “If you break Mathis out before his viewing party, he’s not only going to cancel his outing, but he’s going to take it out on me. And once he’s done with me, he’s going to set Angel loose on Fabens. So unless you are prepared to fight an all-out war that you will lose, you need to follow my timeline.”

Hammond pursed his lips and glanced at Landry, who begrudgingly nodded in acceptance.

“Based on what you’ve told us,” the Sergeant said slowly, “I’m guessing it’s safe to assume the bridge viewing is going to be a trap?”

Rodriguez nodded. “I think that is about as likely as the sun rising in the east tomorrow morning.”

“Do you have a location yet?” Hammond asked.

Rodriguez shook his head. “I don’t, but I will have one this evening,” he replied. “I will pass a message to you through Marcela. So you will know shortly after I know.”

“The sooner the better,” the Sergeant said.

“I understand,” Rodriguez replied with a nod. “If you need something else, don’t hesitate to ask Marcela. She is well connected and can get you whatever you need.”

Landry grinned. “How about an armed Predator drone?” he drawled.

“She could, but not in the timeframe you need,” Rodriguez replied dryly. “I must be getting back.”

“We’ll be ready when you come by,” Hammond said.

Rodriguez nodded. “Good luck with everything,” he said, sincerity in his voice.

The soldiers inclined their heads to him and he got back into his vehicle, speeding back towards the bridge. They came together in front of their SUV, watching him vanish on the horizon.

“So a snatch and grab plus an assassination in one day,” Whitaker said. “That’s going to be an adventure.”

“Wouldn't be the first time we’ve done it,” Landry said.

She rolled her eyes. “It will be without air support and backup,” she drawled.

“Eh, who doesn’t love a challenge?” he shot back.

“Well, I suppose we should get comfortable,” Hammond said, letting out a deep breath. “Got quite a ways to go before sundown.”

CHAPTER SIX

Sparks and Jeff stood at the edge of the building, staring at the smoke rising in the distance. They intensified in the last few minutes as the fire grew.

“What in the hell did that maniac blow up to cause smoke like that?” the skinhead asked.

Sparks shook her head. “Not sure,” she admitted. “Whatever it is, it’s burning up quickly.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and the fire is burning up those dead fuckers,” Jeff muttered.

She sighed. “I spent the better part of a day setting those things on fire,” she replied. “They simply don’t go up that easy.”

“Well, thank you very much for shooting down my dream,” Jeff moaned.

She let out a little huff of a laugh. “Just doing my part,” she said, and looked over to Javier, who was still setting up the sound system. “How are we looking over there?”

“Just about done,” he called back. “Two, maybe three more minutes.”

She nodded, but he didn’t see it since he was focused on the task at hand. Before she could do anything else, her radio sprang to life.

“Sparks, Sparks!” a frantic Trenton cried through the speaker. “Are you there?!”

She furrowed her brow as she reached for the radio.

“That can’t be good,” Jeff quipped, eyes concerned.

“No, it can’t,” she agreed, and raised the walkie talkie to her lips. “I’m here, what’s going on?”

“We’re fucking trapped and need help!” Trenton cried.

Sparks took a deep breath. “Okay, just calm down, we’ll get you out,” she said in a level tone. “Just hang tight.”

“We can’t hang tight because that asshole set the building on fire with that explosion!” Trenton yelled.

“Fuck,” Jeff blurted.

“Where are you?” Sparks demanded into the radio.

“We’re in some clothing store beside where the explosion went off,” Trenton replied, speaking fast. “Fucking shattered the windows and those things flooded in quick. We’re in the store room but the back alley is filled with zombies!”

She rubbed her forehead. “Can you go out the front?” she asked.

“No, those things are everywhere and the front of the store is on fire,” came the frantic reply. “The door is starting to get warm and smoke is coming in from the bottom. We don’t have a whole lot of time.”

“Keep your radio on,” Sparks instructed, “Jeff and I are on the way.” She turned to Javier, still deep into his audio setup. “Change of plans,” she said loudly. “I want you to finish that up then get back to the vehicle. We’re probably going to need a pickup.”

He sat back on his heels, brow furrowed, apparently having heard none of the conversation. “What?”

“Can you get back to the truck on your own?” Sparks asked.

Javier shook his head, perplexed. “Yeah, I can, but why?”

“That explosion trapped the others, so we’re going to have to go get them,” she explained. “Now, do you have a radio?”

Javier nodded, clenching his jaw.

“Keep it on channel twelve,” Sparks instructed. “I’ll be in touch.” She nodded to Jeff. “Let’s move.”

The duo ran to the hatch and slid down the ladder into the maintenance room, racing towards the stairwell. When they came through the door, moans erupted from down below.

“Shit, they caught up to us,” he muttered.

“Just push through them,” Sparks said, “we gotta move.”

They raced down the stairs, stopping at the landing to survey the situation. There were three zombies that had worked their way inside, hanging around the bottom. Jeff didn’t wait for instructions, jumping down and getting to work.

He kicked the first one to the ground and used the bottom of his boot to crush the skull. The other two were quickly felled with his machete. Sparks casually walked down the stairs as he finished up.

“Not wasting any time, huh?” she asked dryly.

“You said we were in a hurry,” he replied with a grin.

She smirked and pressed herself against the wall next to the door to the hallway. She peered out, seeing a few zombies to the left.

“We’re on the back wall of the building,” she whispered. “Let’s go to the right and get to the first unoccupied room we can find. Shouldn’t be too hard to get out through the window.”

Jeff nodded. “I’ll follow your lead,” he promised.

Sparks nodded and readied her handgun, unsure of what she was about to face in the hallway. She burst out and darted around the corner, and the ghouls she’d been keeping an eye on immediately turned to begin their pursuit.

She ignored them in favor of the more immediate threat—four zombies in front of her.

Without hesitation, she aimed her gun and started firing, quickly dropping the closest two corpses. Jeff put a hand on her shoulder to get her stop, and then raced by, shoulder blocking the remaining two into the wall to clear the way for them.

The duo sped down the hall, checking each patient room for an empty one. Finally, on the third one, they found one that was clear and entered.

“Secure the door, I’ll get the window,” Sparks said.

Jeff threw the lock on the door and then dragged a stuffed recliner over from the corner for a little extra reinforcement. Sparks paused at the window, looking both ways to make sure the coast outside was clear.

When she was sure, she opened the window and quickly hopped out, aiming her gun down the back of the building. There was a small driveway along the back, followed by desert landscape past that.

“We’re clear,” she said, “let’s move.”

Jeff ran over to the window as the zombies in the hallway reached the door. They helplessly smacked against the glass, watching their prey escape out the back of the building.

They sprinted to the side of the building, looking towards the smoke rising in the distance, no more than five or six blocks away. With nothing in their immediate area, they moved up the side, stopping at the front.

Sparks looked out towards the front door of the hospital, seeing a few dozen zombies still present at the front trying to get in. Dozens more had moved away from the crowd, shambling down the street towards the explosion.

She scanned the area, seeing one of the side streets the next block up only had a few creatures headed towards it. “We need to go up a block,” she murmured.

Jeff nodded, but before they could move, the music kicked up from the roof. Almost immediately, several ghouls that had been wandering away turned around. A few of them immediately spotted the duo at the corner of the building.

“Fuck my life, man,” Jeff grunted. “Just not our day.”

Before Sparks could respond, another large explosion racked the ground, this one only about three blocks away. Most of the zombies that had turned towards the hospital turned back around, heading towards the next big thing.

Sparks growled. “Trenton is going to have to hold out a little longer,” she snapped. “We need to pay that asshole a visit, first.”

The skinhead cracked his knuckles and grinned. “About damn time,” he said.

“Just don’t kill him,” she said.

Jeff sighed dramatically. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll just make him wish he were dead.”

Sparks led him out from behind cover, racing to the north to the next side street. The music had gotten the attention of a few ghouls there, and they became excited with moans and snaps at the sight of the two walking fresh meatbags.

Knowing time was short, Jeff and Sparks simply ducked around them, leaving plenty of space between them and the creatures’ outstretched arms.

As they made the turn onto the house-lined street, they spotted a few dozen ghouls walking to the west, all headed towards the various explosions. The duo stopped in a yard, with plenty of space between them and any zombies.

“Shit, there’s a lot of ‘em,” Jeff muttered. “You want to move up a block?”

Sparks shook her head. “No time,” she replied. “They’re spread out enough. Just don’t stop moving.”

He nodded and they took off, pumping their legs hard as they ran. They stayed in the grass as much as they could to soften the noise. Most of the zombies had their backs to them, so it was easy to blow past safely.

Jeff made it a point to lower his shoulder and back into the backs of a few of the zombies, sending them tumbling to the ground.

When they reached the first side street, still a couple of blocks away from the latest explosion, they paused. They looked down to see the front edge of the hospital horde moving across it.

“One more block and we cut over,” Sparks said, and at Jeff’s nod, they took off sprinting once again.

By this point, several zombies ahead of them had turned back towards them from the sounds of their footsteps. The duo pulled out their machetes, ready for battle.

They ran through yards, ducking and darting around the outstretched hands. One creature got particularly close to Sparks, but rather than pause to stab it, she smacked it in the side of the head with her blade.

A crowd was forming around them, and Jeff grabbed one ghoul by the back of the shirt and used it as a battering ram, smacking into several corpses and knocking them onto the ground.

Sparks leapt over a fallen ghoul and they continued to run, making it to the next side street with little problems. She looked down the road.

“Next block’s clear,” she announced, “come on, we’re good.”

They reached the next block and there were some small storefronts along the road. Sparks looked to the left, seeing the hospital horde lumbering along, still the better part of a block away.

To the right, Angel and his two Cartel underlings set up another massive tripwire that stretched completely across the street. Two blocks behind them, a crowd of ghouls formed around the burning building that Trenton was still trapped in.

The duo raced up towards the men. They didn’t have long, and their footsteps hit the pavement hard, putting the Cartel members on edge.

They whipped around with their guns up, and both Sparks and Jeff raised their hands, skidding to a stop.

Angel appeared from behind a large tree with a large canvas bag slung around his shoulder. “Why have you stopped working?” he demanded to his men.

They lowered their guns and simply pointed to Sparks and Jeff, and when he spotted them, he smirked. “Oh, you’ve come to see how a real warrior gets things done?”

Jeff growled and rushed him, shoving him back. Angel fell down on his ass, and the two men raised their guns again, but he raised his hand to stop them from firing.

“Your arrogance is getting my man killed!” the skinhead barked, pointing a finger. “And two of yours!” He moved forward, but Sparks grabbed his arm to keep him back.

Angel laughed, shaking his head and propping himself up on his elbows, lounging on the ground. “They’re weak links,” he drawled. “If they can’t hack it out here, then they don’t deserve to live in safety.” His eyes were amused as he found Jeff’s raging stare. “You have quite the fire in your eyes. You have that look when you’re fucking my woman?”

Jeff clenched his fists, but Sparks leapt in front of him, pressing her palms against his chest.

“We don’t have time for this,” she said firmly, and glared at him until his shoulders relaxed, then turned around and headed over to Angel, kneeling down beside him.

“Oh, you finally ready to take on a real man?” he drawled with a sneer.

She didn’t speak, simply reaching for his fallen explosives bag and digging around inside. She pulled out a couple of devices and tossed them aside, rummaging around before finally finding what she was looking for. She grabbed two fist-sized explosives with fuses coming out of them.

“I’m just going to take these,” she said, and got up, turning back to Jeff. “Come on, let’s go get them out.” She glanced over her shoulder. “And you’ve done enough. Leave this and go.”

Angel snarled. “Who do you think you are giving me orders?” he demanded. “I could gut you and leave you for de—”

Sparks drew her gun and aimed it at his head, glaring daggers at him. In a flash, Jeff aimed his at the other two Cartel members before they could raise their weapons.

“Settle down, boys,” he warned.

They listened to him, keeping their guns pointed at the ground.

“Make no mistake,” Sparks said in a low, menacing voice, “I could do the same to you, and nobody would be the wiser. Now get your shit and go, before I change my mind.”

Angel huffed and got up, clearly displeased with the situation. He grabbed his bag and threw it over his shoulder, waving at his men.

“I’ve had my fun, let’s go boys,” he barked, and led the other two away back towards their vehicle.

Jeff sidled up next to Sparks, taking a deep breath. “You good?” he asked.

“Peachy,” she replied dryly.

He cocked his head. “Why didn’t you take him out?” he asked. “I had your back.”

“As much as I am loath to admit it, we need him alive for the time being,” she explained with a sigh, and held up the explosives. “It’s like having a less talented version of Rufus hanging around. Which could be useful.”

Jeff begrudgingly nodded, and then glanced back at the zombies wandering up the street, now within a block of them. “We should get moving,” he said.

Sparks nodded and they raced towards the store. The front end was nearly engulfed in flames, and they skidded to a stop.

“We’re not getting in that way,” Jeff said, shaking his head.

“Around back, let’s go,” Sparks said, and they took off behind a building to a small alleyway. They quickly stopped at the edge, looking down towards the target. There were a couple dozen zombies there, all crowded around the door.

Sparks pulled out her walkie talkie. “Trenton, you there?” she whispered, and turned the volume dial to the lowest it would go. “Trenton!” she hissed.

“Yeah, we’re here,” came the hoarse reply, and a cough. “Running out of time, though!”

“You just be ready to move out the back door,” Sparks instructed, “because we’re making our play.”

“We’ll be ready,” he assured her, and then there was more coughing that cut off.

She put away the radio and pulled out a lighter. “How’s your throwing arm?” she asked.

“Distance or accuracy?” Jeff asked.

She shrugged. “Mostly distance.”

“Pretty good, then,” the skinhead assured her. “Where you want me to throw?”

“Think you can clear the horde and get this to the next block?” she asked, holding up the explosive she’d taken from Angel.

Jeff took it and tossed it up and down a few times to test the weight. “Oh yeah, that won’t be a problem,” he replied confidently.

She flicked the lighter and then put the flame to the fuse. A second later, Jeff stepped into the alleyway, took a couple steps for momentum, and whipped it as hard as he could. It soared through the air, leaving a small trail of smoke behind it.

The explosive easily cleared the horde, smacking down on the pavement loudly before clattering to a stop. Jeff ducked back behind the wall with Sparks, and ten seconds later there was a gigantic explosion, sending shrapnel and debris through the air, some of which cut through the alley horde.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered as they watched with bated breath, “get a move on, assholes.”

They waited as the zombies moved towards the explosion. After what felt like an eternity, they’d finally cleared the door, and Sparks pulled the radio out.

“Trenton, they’re moving away from the door,” she hissed. “Be ready to mo—”

Before she could even finish, the door flew open.

“Stay inside!” she cried. “They’re not clear yet!”

The duo watched helplessly as one of the Cartel members stumbled into the alleyway, only to be overwhelmed by the ghouls that were just on the other side of it. The door partially blocked their view, but they could see him grip onto the door handle as they bit down on him, sending the whole pile to the ground.

Screams erupted from inside, followed by panicked gunfire, and the zombies that had been distracted by the explosion turned back towards the door.

Sparks hit the button on the radio. “Trenton take cover!” she yelled, and then shoved it back into her pocket. She didn’t have any time to waste. The zombies were quickly losing interest in the mostly-eaten Cartel member and broke off towards the open door.

She lit the fuse on the bomb in her hand and took off running towards the horde.

Jeff blinked at her. “What are you—oh shit!” He sprinted after her, a few steps behind.

When she reached the edge of the building where Trenton was trapped, she threw the explosive at an angle, bouncing it off the wall over the door. It bonked off of the brick and landed about five feet on the other side.

She dove behind the metal door, pulling it so that she was wedged between it and the wall. Jeff immediately opened fire as the zombies started coming for her, having a hard time aiming because he was overcorrecting to not hit Sparks.

Just in time, he dove behind the door with her, and the device went off.

The force of the blast was significant, both of them struggling to hold the door in place. Flames and decaying body parts slammed against it, flying every which way as the explosion ripped through the crowd.

As soon as the noise died down, they leapt out from behind the door, handguns at the ready in case anything survived. The explosion did a good job of clearing everything out, however, leaving nothing but a collection of scorched limbs scattered about.

“Trenton!” Sparks yelled.

“In here!” he called, and the duo peeked inside.

He stood against the door to the main store, a rag over his mouth and nose to protect from the smoke. A mass of bodies lay at his feet, and then something moved in it.

Sparks aimed down at the pile, and the freshly-turned ghoul of the second dead Cartel member rose from the corpses. She didn’t hesitate, shooting it directly in the forehead.

“Come on, we gotta go!” she barked.

“This door is gonna give,” Trenton warned, “so be ready.”

Sparks nodded and aimed at the door as Jeff stepped away from her, firing a few shots towards the street. Trenton crouched and then darted away, the door flinging open behind him.

Sparks squeezed off a few rounds, striking some flaming zombies as they poured through the opening.

Trenton dove outside, gasping for air, and Jeff grabbed his arm.

“We’re good,” he said, motioning to the alley, “let’s go.”

The trio worked their way around to the street, and as they emerged, they spotted an SUV approaching. Javier honked the horn when he caught sight of them, and pulled up, his window rolled down.

“Get in!” he cried.

Without hesitation, they hopped into the vehicle, and as soon as the doors slammed he hit the gas. As they crossed the street leading to the hospital, Sparks looked down to see a massive horde marching their way.

“Thanks for the pickup,” she breathed, leaning back in the passenger seat.

Javier shook his head. “I kept hearing explosions and thought you might be in trouble,” he admitted.

“You weren’t wrong,” Jeff declared from the backseat.

Javier glanced in the rearview at Trenton as he wrapped some strips of fabric around his burned hands. “Where are the others?” he asked.

Trenton met his eyes and swallowed hard, simply shaking his head in defeat.

Javier clenched his jaw and hit the gas even harder, squealing around a corner and heading south towards the bridge.

“Where are you going?” Sparks asked.

“Going to circle around, try and pick up some more stragglers while we head back,” he replied firmly. “Not going to go too deep into town, though. Don’t want to risk pulling those things towards the bridge.”

They all sat in silence as Javier drove several blocks to the south. They looked down several side streets, seeing numerous zombies headed towards the north, drawn to the explosions.

“As much as he fucked us over,” Jeff muttered, “those explosions from Angel did the trick.”

Javier let out a dark laugh. “Let’s never tell him that, though.”

“You can guaran-damn-tee that, brother,” Jeff agreed.

Sparks let out a deep sigh. “I think we can safely head back,” she said.

Javier made the next turn onto a mostly empty street. As he drove towards the outskirts of town, he turned onto the last road that ran into the desert on the back side of the hospital.

“Hang right,” he said, “we’re going to go off-road to get back north.”

Everyone braced as they pulled onto the desert terrain, bouncing around as they made their slow journey back to the interstate.

The mission was as successful as it was going to get.

CHAPTER SEVEN

It had been several hours since the last explosion had racked the small town. It had also been several hours since the last zombie sighting near the bridge, which put the men working on the barricade at ease and allowed them to focus entirely on the task at hand.

Rodriguez walked through the makeshift construction zone, inspecting each area of the work. The metal barriers that had been repurposed had been secured to the posts that had been installed on the interstate. Every three yards, another one had been put down, giving the four-foot-tall barricade a serious amount of heft.

Two large pieces of metal ran for twenty yards across the road before connecting at the center, forming a giant V. Rodriguez stepped over the barrier and walked to the side of the bridge, which had been completely demolished. He looked down, seeing the twenty foot drop to the road below.

He nodded with approval, knowing that this would buy them some time. He looked to the west, watching the sun hang low in the sky. Apprehension bubbled up inside of him. It was time to go back to El Paso.

Hopefully he could get Hammond and his team in. He took a deep breath before letting out a loud whistle. The ear-piercing sound got the attention of everyone, and they stopped working.

“That’s enough for today,” he declared. “We will be back here before dawn to put the finishing touches before they arrive. You have all done very well, and done your town a great service.”

The group let out a little celebratory yell at his praise, and headed for their trucks, fist-bumpig each other and clapping each other on the back.

“Sir?” Jose asked as he approached Rodriguez. “I can have some men stay overnight to keep working.”

His superior shook his head. “Not necessary,” he insisted. “It would only be a minimal improvement, and with the darkness it would be too risky. Last thing we want is to show up in the morning and be greeted by runners, don’t you think?”

Jose paused and then nodded slowly. “Sir… have…” he trailed off, and then cleared his throat. “Have you heard from the others? The ones who were in town?”

Rodriguez took a deep breath and frowned. “Yes, I have,” he said quietly. “Your two men did not make it. I told the others to head back without us.”

Jose clenched his jaw, staring at the sky for a moment as if to ask why, and then let out a deep breath and composed himself. “Thank you for being up front with me, sir,” he said.

“It never gets easier to lose men,” Rodriguez replied, and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. They headed back to the SUV and got in, and he started it up, peeling out to lead the caravan of three trucks behind him.

They drove in silence, Jose staring thoughtfully out the window.

Finally, after a few miles, Rodriguez glanced at him. “Would you like some music?” he asked.

“Yes, that would be great,” Jose replied with a nod.

Rodriguez pointed to the glove box. “There are some CDs in there,” he offered, “please pick whatever you would like.”

“Thank you, sir,” his subordinate said, perking up a little. He opened up the glove box, leaning down to rummage around.

As he did so, Rodriguez stared at the hiding spot that the soldiers were in. Even though it was dark and he couldn’t see anything, he felt it was safer for his perceptive passenger to be completely distracted to eliminate any risk of him seeing them.

After a few moments, Jose sat up, holding a CD in his hand. “I found one,” he declared. “Used to listen to this all the time when I was a farm hand.”

“I look forward to hearing something that means so much to you,” Rodriguez replied.

Jose smiled and slid it into the CD player. Soon, the vehicle was filled with an upbeat tempo. He started to sing along, and even with all of the tension wringing his muscles dry, Rodriguez couldn’t help but smile.

The world may have gone to hell, but it was nice to see someone genuinely having a good moment.

The drive was a peaceful one, Jose bobbing his head and singing along. A few songs in, however, a panicked call came through the walkie talkie on the dashboard.

“Boss, we have incoming!” somebody cried. “Coming up fast from the rear!”

Jose turned down the music as Rodriguez grabbed the radio and pushed the button, speaking in a cool calm tone.

“Is it one of our vehicles?” he asked.

There was hesitation, and then the man replied, “It looks like one of ours.”

Rodriguez sighed heavily. “It’s just one of the scouts I sent out this morning,” he said firmly. “They knew we were heading back at this time. It is nothing to worry about.”

“Are you sure, boss?” the man asked, paranoia filling the speaker. “We can stop and inspect.”

Rodriguez growled into the radio. “Are you questioning me?” he demanded. “What is your name?”

“I’m sorry sir,” the man stammered back. “It’s a scout.”

“Good,” Rodriguez snapped. “Now keep this line silent unless it is a real emergency.”

There was no response, likely out of fear, and the line went dead. The vehicle was silent, and Jose didn’t move at all in his seat.

Rodriguez side-glanced him, seeing that he was tense, and he offered a smile. He reached over and turned the volume back up on the radio and hit the back button to start the song over.

“I could never listen to a song and truly enjoy it unless it starts from the beginning,” he said casually. “Coming in at the middle just makes me feel like I missed something.”

Jose smiled back, relaxing. “I agree, boss,” he admitted. “Just doesn’t feel complete.”

They lapsed back into quiet, letting the music fill the vehicle. Rodriguez breathed an internal sigh of relief that the first part of the challenge was completed. He couldn’t let himself get too complacent though.

They still had to get past the barricade and into El Paso.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Hammond drove along in the back of the caravan, on high alert. The trio had been tense for the past hour, carefully driving and keeping pace with the caravan. Their anxiety grew and grew at the sight of mileage signs to El Paso counting down.

“I still can’t believe we’re going to let Mathis be tortured for another couple of days just to appease these assholes,” Landry finally declared from the back seat.

Whitaker glanced back at him from the passenger seat. “I think if you could ask Mathis, he would be okay with it,” she said.

“Are you for real right now?” Landry blurted, glaring at her. “You think he would be okay with being tortured for a couple of days?”

She nodded. “Absolutely,” she replied, raising a finger. “For starters, he would hate it if he thought he was responsible for innocent people dying, which breaking him out early would certainly result in. But more importantly, I get the sense that he would be willing to endure anything and everything, no matter how painful, just to have another shot at that asshole Tiago. If we play by Rodriguez’ rules, Mathis can finish the job.”

Landry swallowed hard and then sat back in a huff. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he admitted with a nod.

Whitaker cocked her head. “Okay, be honest,” she teased, “how painful was that to admit?”

“More painful than anything Mathis is going through, that’s for sure,” Landry joked, rolling his eyes.

The interior of the SUV flooded with red light from the brakes of the vehicle in front of them.

Hammond gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. “Get your head in the game, people,” he said. “We’re here.”

Both soldiers clamped their jaws shut and focused intently on the barricade. As they grew closer, armed guards and their spotlights came into view.

“Looks like they’ve upgraded since the last time we were here,” Whitaker muttered.

Landry leaned forward. “Well, we did do a good job of tearing them down,” he added. He blinked when he noticed a fifty-cal machine gun on the back of a truck, which definitely hadn’t been there the first time they’d fought through. “Damn, that’s an upgrade I’m glad wasn’t here last time,” he mused.

The caravan slowed down, and Hammond swallowed hard. “Come on Rodriguez,” he murmured, “I thought we were going to blow right through this stop.”

The trio watched intently as a couple of armed guards waved the lead vehicle to a stop, forcing everyone else to do the same. Two men with assault rifles walked up to Rodriguez’s window, motioning for him to roll it down.

It was about twenty yards away, so they couldn’t make out what they were saying, but based on the agitated expressions and open mouths, it looked like there was a lot of yelling on both counts.

“Not liking this one bit,” Landry said.

As they argued, one of the guards let out a whistle, motioning for two of his companions to start walking the line. They stopped at the second vehicle, making them roll down the windows so they could inspect who was inside.

“Really not liking this,” Landry continued, voice a higher pitch than before. He grabbed his rifle to ready it, but Hammond held up a hand.

“Calm yourself,” the Sergeant said firmly, “we’re not there yet.”

They watched with bated breath as the guards walked to the third car in the line, inspecting the inside of it as well. One of them laughed, apparently joking with the driver for a moment before heading for the fourth vehicle, right ahead of the fugitive’s.

“Are we there yet?” Landry asked, half mocking and half panicked. “Are we there yet?”

Hammond stared intently at the two guards. They weren’t wasting time, as the vehicle in front of them already had their windows down.

“Yeah, we’re there,” the Sergeant declared. “Nobody shoots until I do, understood?”

Both Privates replied in the affirmative in unison.

“Whitaker, if we go hot, you disable the truck in front of us,” Hammond said quickly. “Landry, you pepper that fifty-cal. Even if you can’t take out the gunner, the bullets flying his way should give us enough time to back up.”

Landry nodded. “I’ll put the fear of god in him,” he said.

Hammond drew his handgun from his holster, setting it in his lap.

The guards at the vehicle in front of them finished up, and turned in their direction. They reached the back of the truck, when a loud whistle pierced the air. They turned back, and Rodriguez had gotten out of his vehicle, eyes blazing.

He motioned angrily for them to come to him, and they turned, heading away from the final vehicle. As they did, the three soldiers let out sighs of relief.

Rodriguez stood between the two inspectors and the original armed guards, pointing and motioning wildly while yelling, face growing red. He laid into them for a full minute, not stopping to breathe.

“Anybody make out what he’s yelling?” Landry asked, raising an eyebrow.

Whitaker strained her ears. “Hard to make out, but something about how dare they question his authority,” she said, and paused to listen again. “And something about being sent out to fight with nothing more than a pinata stick.”

Landry barked a laugh. “That doesn’t sound fun,” he quipped.

Finally, after a complete and total verbal takedown, Rodriguez waved his hand and the guards slunk back to their positions with their tails between their legs. He got back into his vehicle and fired it up, moving the caravan quickly through the barricade.

The soldiers remained tense as they pulled through, hoping that the tint on the windows and the low light were enough to conceal their identities. As soon as they cleared it, Landry looked through the back windshield, studying the men they were leaving in the dust.

“Doesn’t look like they saw us,” he said, finally relaxing his grip on his gun.

“Good,” Hammond replied. “Now we just have to figure out where the hell we’re going.”

Whitaker pulled out the map from the glovebox, poring over it to find the safehouse. After a moment, she trailed her finger along the course.

“Not this exit, but the next,” she said.

Hammond nodded and continued along the caravan. He slowed down a bit, putting a little distance between them. When the exit got close, he cut over at the last minute, making sure that if the truck in front of them wanted to follow they wouldn’t be able to quickly enough.

When they got off the interstate, he screamed around a corner into a nearby neighborhood, pulling onto a side street and cutting the lights, just in case they were followed. After several moments of waiting with no activity, the soldiers relaxed and Hammond glanced at his passenger.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

Whitaker pointed out the window. “Hang a left at the next street,” she instructed, “then a right four blocks up.”

He pulled out from where he’d hidden, and then slowly drove along the street with the lights still off. They scanned the neighborhood, which showed signs of neglect. There were several corpses scattered about the ground, which appeared to have been gunned down and just left to rot. The worst part was that it was unclear whether they’d been undead or alive when they’d been put down.

Landry spotted some movement around the edges of a house, and he leaned forward. “How are there zombies inside the perimeter?” he demanded.

“Look closer,” Whitaker said, motioning to the shadows.

He strained his eyes and then realized the ghouls had chains around their necks, holding them in place like guard dogs. “That’s a rough way to spend the afterlife,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Hammond made the turn onto the target road. “What’s the house number?” he asked.

“Let’s see, it’s…” Whitaker trailed off, running her finger along the map, and then looked up when they saw a garage door opening a few houses up. “... Probably that one.”

The Sergeant made the turn into the garage. As soon as they crossed the threshold, the door closed behind them.

The soldiers kept their weapons at the ready, aware that this could be a trap and not wanting to be too careful. They got out of the vehicle, and the side door leading into the house opened, revealing a tall Latina looking to be in her mid-thirties.

“I was beginning to wonder if you had made it past the barricade,” she declared, putting a hand on her hip.

Hammond lowered his gun. “It was a lot closer than we would have liked,” he admitted.

“Seems to be the way the world goes these days,” she said with a sigh. “Please, come inside.”

The soldiers followed her into the house. The interior was well lit, which surprised them considering how dark it was from the outside, but they realized the windows had all been completely blacked out.

“I have a casserole baking that will be done in half an hour,” she said. “In the meantime, please, sit and make yourselves comfortable.”

The soldiers looked around the nice clean living room, complete with bottles of water set on the coffee table. They shrugged at each other and took a seat in the inviting space, finally kicking back.

“I didn’t expect there to be power,” Hammond said, and picked up one of the bottles. “Or cold water,” he added, cracking it open with a smile.

“I managed to procure a small generator for this operation, Sergeant Hammond,” the woman said from the doorway, leaning against the frame and crossing her arms.

Hammond blinked at her, surprised she already knew his name.

“Don’t look so surprised,” she said wryly, “I am very good at what I do. You must be Whitaker, and you must be Landry. I am Marcela.”

The soldiers nodded, offering smiles as they cracked open their water bottles.

“Now, with that out of the way,” Marcela continued, straightening up, “let me give you the rundown of things. Tomorrow is planning day. I have detailed maps of the area where they are holding Mathis captive, as well as detailed blueprints of the building in question. Unfortunately, I do not have the security details, but based on my knowledge of the Cartel, I can give you my best guess.”

Hammond nodded. “Any information, even an educated guess, would be welcome,” he said sincerely.

“And you will have it,” she replied. “Now, Rodriguez said he will send a runner tomorrow to deliver information about Tiago’s whereabouts for the day in question. Once we know the location, I will get what I can for you, but I’m afraid it will be of minimal help. I have pulled as much information as I can from the presumed targets, but trying to get any information after the target is selected will be dangerous. Tiago has a lot of loyal men under him, and it will be difficult to avoid them.”

The Sergeant shook his head. “Don’t worry,” he assured her, “this won’t be the first time we’ve gone into battle essentially blind.”

“Well, you may have to go in blind,” she said with a smirk, “but you won’t be going in defenseless.” She motioned for the group to follow her, and led them to a spare bedroom.

They stopped in the doorway, gaping in amazement at the stacks upon stacks of gear in there.

“Everything you need to accomplish the mission can be found in here,” Marcela explained, motioning as she spoke. “Surveillance equipment, explosives, and a heavy duty hunting rifle for when you get Mathis back. I wasn’t able to find his preferred model, but I tried to get the most comparable consumer grade weapon I could.”

Hammond nodded firmly. “As long as the sights are true, he’ll manage,” he said.

“That is good to know,” she replied. “Now, we have plenty of time to get prepared tomorrow. Tonight, we must rest.”

She led them back into the living room and then disappeared into the kitchen to check on the casserole, which was beginning to smell delicious to the hungry soldiers.

“Looks like we just might be able to pull this off,” Landry said as he flopped down on the couch.

Whitaker shook her head, taking a sip of her water. “One step at a time, buddy.”

“Hey, I’m just saying, we’ve pulled off some minor miracles in the last two days,” he replied, raising a palm to her. “Feel like this is the beginning of a hot streak.”

She shook her head, pointing at him. “Last time you said that, I had to spend three days in a spider hole with your smelly ass,” she reminded him.

“Hey, not my fault they don’t include deodorant in MREs,” he replied with a shrug.

She playfully gagged a bit, shuddering with extra drama as she relived the horror. Landry laughed, letting out all of the emotions from the day, until he was gasping for air and holding his belly. Even Hammond cracked a smile, shaking his head as the two bickered.

It had been a difficult couple of days, but they’d managed to survive it. Hammond knew what was coming next would be the most difficult mission of their lives. Outmanned, outgunned, and with the fate of an entire town resting on their shoulders…

END

PART 5

BY DEREK SLATON

© 2021

Chapter One

The high-pitched ringing of an ancient analog alarm clock filled the air in Leon’s bedroom. This long-forgotten relic from a time before digital clocks had suddenly become relevant again, thanks to the lack of power in most of the town. 

The dead weren’t all that this apocalypse was bringing back to life.

The sudden noise didn’t bother or startle Leon as he lay there awake, pretty much since the time he’d crawled into bed. The weight of a million strong army of the dead marching their way to Fabens was too much to overcome for a good night’s sleep.

In less than forty-eight hours, the little town would be facing off with the zombies, and there wasn’t anything he or anyone else could do to prevent it. The only thing they could do was delay it, giving them more time to prepare for the inevitable.

Finally, after several seconds of ringing, Leon reached over and smacked the top of the clock, ending the racket. He picked it up and stared at it, giving time for his eyes to adjust to read the slightly glowing numerals.

This clock is so old the numbers might be radioactive, he thought. Should probably keep it away from the zombies, because the last thing we need is radioactive ghouls roaming around.

He chuckled to himself, amazed that such a thought would come into his head during this time. Not just the threat, but also because it was two in the morning and too early to be awake.

But he didn’t have a choice. None of them did. The marching horde didn’t care about what time it was, or how inconvenient it was to start the day that early. They just kept putting one foot in front of the other, marching right down the interstate. And if they decided to take a break, there were a million of their friends behind to push them along.

Leon pulled himself up, sitting at the edge of the bed for a few moments to collect himself. He lingered for a full minute, not wanting to get moving.

Come on, time to get going, he urged himself silently. Satellite is going to be overhead in twenty, and company is coming soon after.

He groaned as he dragged himself out of bed, not bothering to even put on a fresh set of clothes. Not that he really had any clean ones to begin with, since laundry wasn’t exactly at the top of anyone’s list this week. 

He grabbed a flashlight by the front door and walked outside, but shoved it in his pocket under the moonlight. It was big and bright, not quite full, but close enough. He looked up at the twinkling stars, not a single cloud in the sky. 

At least one thing is going right today, he thought bitterly.

He walked towards the command center. The town was mostly silent as the defensive setups were being done in individual houses at that point rather than on the front lines. As he approached the bridge barricade over the drainage ditch, he paused to admire the work.

The structure had improved dramatically over the past few days, with more reinforcements being put in place. The ditch itself left a lot to be desired, however, as the best they could muster had been spiking the sides with makeshift spears. Rebar, wooden fencing, and even sticks from trees stuck out of the dirt. It was DIY to be sure, and he shook his head in defeat.

If all we get is a hundred of those things, then we might be all right, he thought, sighing heavily. Anything more and they’ll just power their way through this.

He climbed over the bridge barricade, and at the top he paused, looking along the ditch once again. Dread rolled in his gut, but he raised his chin at the level of effort that had gone into it.

We may go down, he thought, hell, we may go down hard. But it’s not going to be from a lack of effort.

Leon hopped down, ruminating on the work the civilians had put into the town’s defenses. Most of the people in Fabens had been discarded by the Cartel, deemed unworthy of food and shelter. 

From the looks of things, they’d taken it personally.

When he reached the command center, he took one last deep breath of the crisp night air and then opened the door, heading inside. He pulled out the flashlight to see what he was doing, making his way to the satellite computer to flip it on.

As he hit the switch, the monitor flickered, sending a dull glow across the room. The center of the screen was blacked out, and his throat tightened with concern. Upon closer inspection, relief washed over him when he realized someone had stuck a post-it note to the monitor.

He pulled it off and pointed the flashlight at it, reading, I never woke up this early for my husband, and I’m sure as hell not starting it now for you. Coffee is in the maker, just hit start on the burner. Good luck today. -Ethel

Leon chuckled to himself, shaking his head and pocketing the note before heading to the coffeemaker. “Don’t blame you one bit, Ethel,” he murmured as he hit the switch to start the burner underneath the old campfire coffee maker.

He headed back to the computer, sitting down and watching the final boot-up sequence. While this was happening, the front door opened, startling him. He hadn’t been expecting anyone else to be up this early.

Leon turned to face Rufus, who walked in quietly.

“Not interrupting anything, am I?” he asked as he shut the door behind him with a soft click.

“Nah, you’re good,” Leon replied with a wave. “Just didn’t expect to see anybody else up yet, since we’re not getting started for another half hour or so.”

Rufus shrugged. “Being up this early wasn’t my first choice either, but apparently the older you get, the earlier your body wants you to get up,” he admitted. “Pretty sure I’m only a couple years away from my body wanting to wake up before I go to bed.”

“Yeah this shit is giving me flashbacks to my military days,” Leon replied with a chuckle. “One thing about covert ops is that they rarely start around noon.”

The older man raised an eyebrow. “Covert, huh?” he asked. “Yeah, ran a few of those myself. Wasn’t my main area of expertise, but whenever they needed something blown up, it meant my wake-up call was way earlier than I would like.” He leaned against the desk, crossing his arms. “What kind of stuff did you do?”

Leon pointed to the shelf over the satellite computer, which displayed a very powerful military grade sniper rifle. 

Rufus smirked and nodded. “I was wonderin’ if that was practical or just for decoration,” he said. “I take it you’re good with it?”

“I’d like to think so,” Leon replied, leaning back in his chair.

“So, if that was your tool of the trade,” the older man drawled, “how did you get into all this fancy computer stuff?” He waved a hand vaguely at the monitor.

Leon scratched the back of his head. “One too many missions that went sideways,” he admitted. “Decided to make a change and see if I could get the boys doing my old job better intel so they didn’t end up in the shitshows that I ended up in.”

Rufus laughed. “Oh, I’ve been there,” he said, shaking his head. “Well, the first part, at any rate. I chose alcoholism instead of the noble path you picked.”

“Don’t worry, there’s more than enough alcohol consumption on my end, too,” Leon admitted.

“Good to know I’m not the only one,” Rufus replied, and then startled as the coffee pot hissed and bubbled.

Leon raised an eyebrow. “Little jumpy this morning?” he asked.

“After spending time in the jungle, I’m always jumpy,” Rufus admitted.

His companion nodded as the satellite flickered to life. “Been there, brother,” he said. “Been there.”

Rufus pushed away from the desk. “You do what you gotta do,” he said, motioning to the computer, “I’ll get us coffee. How do you take it?”

“I take my coffee like I take my women,” Leon said with a wink. “Whatever shows up, I’m diving in.”

The old man chuckled. “Sounds like me in the eighties,” he quipped, and headed for the coffeepot.

Leon zoomed in on Van Horn, inspecting the work that the Cartel had done the day before. The moonlight was bright enough that the enhanced sensors were able to present a nicely lit image. He couldn’t see all the little details like he could if it were daytime, but it was enough to do what he needed.

Rufus approached with two coffee mugs, sitting down beside Leon and setting them down on the desk. “Gonna be interesting to see if that actually works,” he said, leaning forward to get a good look at the screen.

“Gotta hope it works better than everything else we’ve tried,” Leon said with a sigh.

“Just be sure to hit record on this thing,” Rufus joked. “If we do survive this, we can watch it over Christmas drinks and wonder what the hell we were thinking.”

“I can get behind that,” Leon agreed, raising his mug in a cheers before taking a sip of the steaming brew.

He took the controls and moved the satellite down the interstate, keeping a mental track of how many miles he was covering. It wasn’t an exact science, but it would give him a rough idea of how much time they had.

Within seconds, the camera saw the front edge of the horde, still pushing towards Van Horn. 

“They seem close,” Rufus murmured.

Leon nodded. “Two and a half, maybe three hours before they reach the bridge,” he said.

“Oh good, fighting them in the dark,” Rufus said, eyebrows hitting his hairline. “This should be fun.”

“Hopefully Rodriguez brings a massive crew,” Leon added.

The older man shook his head. “With the way this week has gone,” he said slowly, “I wouldn’t bet on it.”

Leon continued scrolling down the interstate, zooming out a bit so they can see a mile or so on either side of the road. As they went along, they could see small packs of zombies off the road, no more than a few hundred in each pack.

“Well, those radio beacons were a good thought,” he said, “but they didn’t do much.”

Rufus sighed and took another sip of coffee. “Ain’t no music these days worth listening to, so no big loss on the equipment.”

“Preaching to the choir on that one,” Leon agreed. “If there is one benefit to everything ending, it’s that music can’t get any worse.”

Rufus wrinkled his nose. “You say that,” he drawled, “but I’m pretty sure I saw Jeff walking around with a harmonica in his pocket.”

They laughed a bit, and then sobered as they continued to drink their coffee, the weight of the situation rolling back over them. The odds were stacked against them tenfold, and despite all the preparations, it was unlikely they were going to make it through.

Before they could make any more small talk, the air horn from the interstate went off, alerting them to an arrival.

“That time already, huh?” Rufus asked with a sigh.

Leon raised his wrist, checking his watch. Two thirty. “Rodriguez is early,” he said, furrowing his brow. “That can’t be good.”

They got up and headed outside, coffee cups in hand, and watched as two SUVs pulled up to the command center. When they parked, six men emerged, including Rodriguez, Javier, and Jose from their previous groups.

“So, I’m assuming that the rest of the group is sleeping in?” Leon asked, strain in his tone.

Rodriguez shook his head, eyes apologetic. “This is all we have today.”

“Fucking hell, man!” Rufus exclaimed, throwing up his free hand. “Half a dozen men to hold the line? No way in hell this is happening!”

Rodriguez raised his palms. “It is out of my hands,” he said defensively. “Tiago was insistent that I use men to set up his viewing party for tomorrow. I was lucky to even get this group out of the city.”

“Rufus, you’d better go get some of the others up,” Leon said. “We’re going to have to send whoever we can to Van Horn.”

The older man grunted. “I’ll get my kit, too,” he declared. “If I’m going out this early I might as well blow some shit up.”

“I have some supplies as well you might find useful,” Rodriguez added.

Rufus nodded, throwing back the rest of his coffee and handing his empty mug back to Leon before rushing off to gather the crew.

“Do you have an update on the situation from the sky?” Rodriguez asked.

Leon nodded. “They’re a few hours out,” he said.

“And the radios?” the Cartel member asked.

Leon sighed. “Minimal success,” he reported.

“At least they didn’t cost any lives,” Rodriguez said with a sigh. He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t suppose you have an extra cup of coffee, do you?” he asked.

Leon held up Rufus’ empty cup. “As a matter of fact, I do,” he replied. “Come on inside.”

Rodriguez headed inside and then put up a hand as Javier followed. “Get the explosives laid out for our friend,” he instructed. “He needs to know what we have.”

Javier paused and then nodded. “I’ll get it done,” he said, and then pursed his lips.

Rodriguez didn’t miss his longing look at Leon’s mug. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring you a cup,” he promised with a smirk.

Javier smiled and nodded, heading back to the SUV.

Leon and Rodriguez headed inside, and as soon as the door clicked shut behind him, the latter spoke in hushed tones. 

“Listen quick,” he said. “Tiago is having a viewing party on the bridge due south of city hall. I need you to study it and pick out where you would set up to protect a target.”

Leon cocked his head. “You think it’s a trap?” he asked.

“I know it’s a trap,” Rodriguez said. “I just don’t know where. Our mutual friends need all the information that they can get. Your expertise would be very welcome.”

Leon nodded. “Next pass I’ll make it my top priority,” he said, and poured a fresh mug of coffee, topping up his own.

“I appreciate that,” Rodriguez said, and upon taking his cup, continued, “and I appreciate this. Once we get through this, I’ll arrange for a shipment to come your way.”

Leon smirked. “Don’t be afraid to send an espresso machine,” he joked. “I’m pretty sure someone in town can figure it out.”

Rodriguez laughed. “Noted, my friend.”

Chapter Two

Sparks drove an SUV with Trenton in the passenger seat, Rufus and Jeff in the back. With preparations for the defense of Fabens still in full swing, Clara was left behind to help with that.

She followed the two Cartel vehicles closely as they sped down the darkened interstate towards Van Horn. While she did, Rufus took notes using a book light. On one leg he balanced a notebook with a list of explosives, and on the other he had a crudely drawn map of Van Horn.

“You coming up with anything good, old man?” Jeff asked.

Rufus shrugged. “Depends,” he said. “Are we absolutely sure we can liquidate this town?”

Sparks glanced in the rearview at him. “Either things go perfectly over the next forty-eight hours and we can get supplies from El Paso once Rodriguez is in charge,” she piped up, “or we’re all going to die. So yeah, have some fun.”

“Leave it to you girl, to put a positive spin on the situation,” Rufus quipped.

She smirked. “Well, I did leave out wandering the desert while being pursued by Cartel hitmen,” she countered, “so I thought it was pretty positive.”

Rufus and Jeff exchanged a glance in agreement that her third suggestion would suck.

“Well, thanks to our friends up there,” Rufus continued, tapping his list, “I have a few extra pre-made shrapnel bombs with tripwires. Based on the map that Leon gave me, it looks like there is an exit that runs straight to the north of town. I’m hoping that we have enough time to get there and elevate some of these, so we can take out a fair number of them when they come off the road.”

“Plus the noise should bring more our way, too,” Jeff added.

“That’s the plan,” Rufus agreed. “And when that wave hits, we blow the buildings.”

The skinhead blinked at his friend. “Damn dude, isn’t that a bit extreme?”

“Maybe,” the older man replied breezily. “Maybe not. What I am sure of, however, is that it’s gonna be balls to the wall fun.”

Trenton twisted in his seat to face them. “Plus, the secondary explosion will hopefully pull off more of those things,” he added. “Don’t know how effective it’s going to be, but in theory it should relieve some of the pressure on the barricade and give those guys more time to take them down.”

Jeff sighed. “Well, if you ask me, this whole thing is a total waste of our time,” he admitted. “We already know we’re not killing a million of these fuckers. All we’re doing is slowing them down a bit. I mean, what kind of difference is an hour or two gonna make?”

“Every minute we buy here means another stake in the drainage ditch,” Sparks piped up firmly. “It means another zombie that will get caught on it. It means another few minutes of safety while the horde marches by on the interstate. We can’t blow the humdinger until the horde has passed, or else we risk pulling more off of the interstate. That’s why we’re here.”

Jeff nodded slowly. “Yeah, that sounds good I guess,” he admitted. “Just as long as I get to crack some heads.”

“Pretty sure that’s not going to be an issue today,” Trenton murmured.

The brake lights on the back of the vehicle in front of them lit up as they approached the bridge, and the convoy stopped about a hundred yards from it.

“What’s going on?” Jeff asked.

Rufus didn’t look up from his papers. “Looks like you just volunteered to go find out,” he drawled.

Jeff rolled his eyes and chuckled, opening the door. “You got me there,” he said. “Be right back.” He closed the door and headed up to Rodriguez’ window, waiting for him to roll it down. “There a problem, Chief?” he asked.

Rodriguez pointed towards the bridge, where four zombies spread out across their side of the barricade. They milled about, appearing to have stumbled up from the exit ramp below.

“Just being extra cautious,” Rodriguez admitted. “Don’t want to risk the vehicles by running them over, and don’t want to shoot them for fear that it might attract others.”

Jeff raised an eyebrow. “Oh, is that all?” he asked, patting the Cartel member on the arm. “I got you covered.” He headed towards the zombies, and Rodriguez snapped his fingers at Javier.

“Go help the man,” he instructed, pointing.

Javier got out of the vehicle and ran to catch up with Jeff.

“I can handle this,” the skinhead declared when he realized he had a partner.

Javier shrugged. “But I can’t handle Rodriguez if I don’t listen to him and help you,” he said.

Jeff tilted his head back and forth, acknowledging the difficult position the lower Cartel member was in. “You armed?” he asked, drawing his machete.

Javier nodded and pulled out a large knife.

“Good,” Jeff said with a nod. “Let’s make quick work of them. I’ll start on the left if you take the right.”

“I will follow your lead,” Javier promised.

They picked up their pace, heading towards their respective targets. The echo of their footsteps on the ground attracted the ghouls towards them, making it easy to take them out.

Jeff swung hard, catching a ghoul on the side of the head, embedding a blade a good eight inches into its face. The creature convulsed for a moment before crumpling to the ground. 

He glanced over at his partner, who delivered a straight jab to the eye of his first ghoul, easily taking it out. 

Jeff yanked on his machete, but it was embedded too deep. He struggled for a moment before the footsteps and moans of his second target grew too close.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, and let go of his blade, walking straight up to the zombie. It once had been a middle-aged woman in a now-tattered business suit, and he grabbed her by the front of the shirt. 

The ghoul thrashed about, trying in vain to bite his arm, but it was too far away from its mouth. Jeff grabbed its leg and lifted it up, finishing it with a quick pile driver onto the pavement. The sound of the corpse’s skull cracking echoed in the night air loudly.

The skinhead did a quick sweep of the area, seeing no other zombies on the bridge with them as Javier finished his final enemy with a perfect eye strike. He headed over to Jeff, bending to pull the machete wedged in the corpse on the way.

He held it out to his companion. “Here, it looks like you lost this,” he said.

“Appreciate it,” Jeff replied, taking his weapon back.

As they sheathed their blades, more moans erupted, and they both stiffened. The duo looked around on high alert for the source of the noise, and then realized it was coming from below, so they approached the edge of the bridge.

When they looked down, they spotted about a dozen moonlit ghouls milling about. The few streets they could see from their vantage points only showed a few zombies here and there.

“Looks like the work we did yesterday paid off,” Jeff said. “Not too many of those fuckers.”

“Good to see it wasn’t all for nothing,” Javier agreed.

The skinhead waved to Rodriguez, letting him know it was clear. He led the trio of vehicles towards them, stopping about thirty yards from the barricade. Everyone got out and walked over, a few of the Cartel members picking up the corpses and shuffling them off to the side of the bridge.

“Now don’t go throwing those bodies overboard,” Jeff said. “We have some visitors down there.”

The men nodded and laid the corpses against the concrete barrier. 

Rodriguez checked his watch. “Okay everyone, listen up,” he declared. “We have less than an hour until the horde arrives. Javier, I want your team to start laying out melee weapons along the barricade. Two at each station, with stations being five yards apart. If a weapon gets stuck, leave it and move on. Jose, your team is on rear defense. Deploy the barbed wire across the back bridge supports. I don’t expect too many of those things coming up from behind us, but if they do, I don’t want them having a free run at us.”

“And us?” Rufus asked.

“You know what you’re doing,” Rodriguez replied. “Question is, do you need anything from us?”

Rufus shrugged. “Just need one of your boys to pull the devices and tripwires and we’ll get out of your hair,” he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

Rodriguez let out a quick whistle, and one of his subordinates approached quickly. “Get this man what he needs from the back of my vehicle,” he instructed.

The Cartel member nodded and led Rufus off to the SUV to retrieve the explosives.

“Once we get everything set up, we’ll be sending Jeff and Trenton back to help with the barricade defense,” Sparks said.

Rodriguez raised an eyebrow. “Why only those two?” he asked.

“Because we’re doing multiple detonations,” she explained, “so we have to physically be there to light the fuse.”

He nodded. “Understood,” he replied.

“Believe me when I say that we aren’t going to be staying there any longer than absolutely necessary,” she said, raising a hand. “We’ll be back on the line before you know it. And hopefully not dragging any of those things along with us.”

Rufus returned with a large duffel bag of gear slung over his shoulder. “I’m ready when y’all are,” he announced.

“Be safe, friends,” Rodriguez said, and the four of them nodded in response before heading back towards the on-ramp that led down to the town below. Sparks, Trenton, and Jeff readied their blades for battle.

“Got nearly a dozen or so at the bottom of the ramp,” Jeff said.

“We’ll be ready for them,” Sparks replied firmly.

They walked down the ramp, watching out for the ghouls milling about. Rufus hung back as the three others stepped forward and unleashed their fury on the hapless zombies.

Jeff approached a group of three, kicking the leader into the others and sending them all to the ground. He followed that up with several powerful hacks to their heads.

Sparks was a little more agile in her attacks, daring around outstretched hands and delivering knife strikes to the side and backs of their heads. 

Trenton was straightforward, walking up to the first creature and slamming his machete straight down on the top of its head before doing the same to the ones behind it.

Within a few moments, the street in front of them was clear, however being in the shadow of the bridge it made it difficult to see very far, or at least clearly.

“We should move up a block before heading to the other side of town,” Sparks suggested.

Trenton nodded. “Agreed,” he replied. “Not a fan of being this close to the underpass.”

“Aw, are you afraid of the dark?” Jeff teased playfully.

Trenton smirked. “Yes, yes I am,” he declared. “I know for a fact monsters are hiding in it.”

Jeff laughed and shook his head. “Fair enough,” he replied. “Next block up it is, then.”

The group reached the next intersection, staying on guard and staring into the void that was the darkened underpass. They paused at every noise, waiting to make sure they weren’t about to be ambushed by ghouls.

When they reached the intersection, they spotted a clear path to the next block. They surveyed the street, filled with small homes, to make sure it was clear. As they walked up, they looked at the houses, seeing they were cheap and rundown.

“Man, you would have had to pay me to live in a shithole like this place,” Jeff muttered.

“Funny, you don’t strike me as someone who had a particularly high standard of living before the apocalypse,” Trenton said, raising an eyebrow. “What did you live in before all this?”

“A moderately new doublewide,” Jeff announced.

The younger man cocked his head. “And you’re criticizing people with real homes?”

“Yeah, because at least my shithole of a home was near civilization,” the skinhead replied, rolling his eyes. “I could be in downtown Austin in forty-five minutes.”

“Or six hours, depending on traffic,” Sparks piped up.

Jeff chuckled. “Ain’t that the damn truth.” He burst out laughing suddenly, holding his gut, and the others side-glanced him in confusion.

“You okay there?” Sparks asked slowly.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” he gasped as he struggled to contain his mirth. “I just envisioned some poor slob sitting on the interstate on his way to his office job. Still sitting in traffic on the I-thirty-five, completely oblivious to the zombies and just thinking traffic is really, really bad.” He chuckled again, shaking his head.

Trenton blinked at him. “Come on, traffic in Austin couldn’t have been that bad,” he argued.

“It was,” Jeff and Sparks said in unison, which made all four of the group laugh.

“Glad I picked UTEP over UT, then,” Trenton said with a sigh.

They reached the next block, looking to the east towards the far end of town. There was a small smattering of zombies milling about, none of them within ten yards of each other.

They continued walking and chatting, only occasionally pausing to lop the head off of a wayward ghoul. At this point, the zombies were less of a threat and more of a nuisance.

“You think any other survivor groups out there have it as bad as we do?” Trenton asked.

Jeff rolled his eyes. “We’re trapped between a murderous drug cartel and the million zombie march,” he retorted. “Pretty sure we’re top five for shittiest position to be in.”

“Could be worse,” Rufus drawled. “At least we aren’t in a big city.”

“What are you talking about?” Jeff asked, raising his eyebrows. “We got through Austin okay, didn’t we?”

The older man shook his head. “No, we got through an area close to Austin, and barely did that,” he corrected. “Think about what those poor bastards are dealing with in New York City, or Chicago, or Los Angeles. Those fuckers never had a chance.”

“You think there are survivors left in those cities?” Trenton asked.

“You’d be amazed at what people can survive,” Rufus replied with a sigh. “There were people who were within half a mile of the bomb at Hiroshima that survived and lived into their nineties. Not many mind you, but some did. There’s not a doubt in my mind that there are some scavengers roaming around New York City right now looking for food.”

Trenton shrugged. “Hell, at least we can go outside and walk around,” he admitted. “Maybe we don’t have it so bad.”

“Jeff,” Sparks cut in, pointing to a couple of creatures stumbling out from around the side of a house.

The skinhead didn’t speak, simply nodded and headed over to deal with them. With two quick hacks, they were down for the count. He casually walked back over to the group, rejoining them to continue to the other side of town.

“Well, if the next few days go well, our entire situation will improve dramatically,” he said.

When they reached their destination, they paused and looked both ways. There were a handful of zombies to the north moving away towards the faint sounds of music they’d set up the day prior. Everything between them and the interstate was clear.

On either side of the street stood small buildings, some businesses and some warehouse space. They were all single story, with glass front windows.

“First things first, though,” Rufus declared. “We gotta blow some shit up.”

“Jeff, Trenton, do a sweep of the stores,” Sparks instructed. “Make sure nothing is going to come out and surprise us. Rufus, let’s start picking your spots.”

There was a chorus of Yes, ma’am, and everyone got to work. Sparks glanced at her watch. Only twenty-five minutes before the horde reached them. She took a deep breath to center herself and then joined the others.

Chapter Three

Sparks stood at the base of a building as Rufus looked down at her, struggling to get a good view in the dim moonlight.

“You ready?” he asked.

She nodded. “Toss it.”

Rufus gently tossed down a thin metal wire with a device attached to it. She cradle-caught it and quickly ran across the street, leaving a trail of wire behind her. The device was positioned near the middle of the street, a large two-liter bottle filled with shrapnel. Sparks took care to make sure that the pin didn’t strike the ground.

When she reached the building across the street, she looked up at Jeff on the roof. 

“Here it comes,” she called, and tossed up the wire.

The skinhead grabbed it and pulled it up to the roof, stretching it out and securing it to a metal pipe before running back to the edge. “We’re looking good here,” he reported.

Sparks nodded and looked down the street. They’d set up half a dozen of the devices stretching over two blocks. One block up, Trenton stood at the top of a ladder, carefully running a tripwire through the pin on a device, making sure there was plenty of slack on both sides so it didn’t accidentally pull out.

Once through, he climbed down and headed to the next one. As he did so, Rufus and Jeff returned to street level.

“How we doing on time?” Rufus asked.

Sparks checked her watch. “Not good,” she admitted. “They’ll be here any minute.”

“I’d like to be able to rig these buildings before they get here,” the old man replied.

“You start getting prepped,” Jeff suggested. “I’m going to go do a visual check.”

“Be safe,” Sparks said.

Rufus nodded. “And quick,” he added.

The couple ran down the street to the furthest building from the interstate to start setting up the storefront bombs.

“What are we doing when we get in here?” Sparks asked.

Rufus grinned. “These redneck rattlers will pack a solid punch, but if you find anything that looks like it’ll shatter real nice, get it,” he instructed. “A little extra shrapnel never hurt anybody.”

She raised an amused eyebrow, and he waved a hand at her.

“Anybody that was on our side of the bomb, anyway,” he added.

When they reached the door of a small convenience store, they paused.

“You work on the bomb,” Sparks said. “I’ll clear the place and then look for shrapnel.”

Rufus nodded before she burst through the front door. She immediately rushed around, looking down every aisle for threats. As she went, there was movement behind the counter.

“Potential contact, counter,” she declared.

Rufus paused and turned, raising his knife in a defensive position.

Sparks readied her own blade and crept towards the counter. She darted through the opening, looking down on the floor for a fallen zombie. 

She let out a sigh of relief when she saw it was only a raccoon. She clapped her hands and let out a sharp whistle to get the tiny creature to run along.

It scurried away, slipping out the back of the building.

Rufus smirked. “Just for the record, when we’re not in imminent danger,” he drawled, “I know how to fry those suckers up good.”

Sparks smiled. “That is good to know,” she replied. She tensed at the sound of knocking in the back room and raised her knife again. “You start setting up, I’ll clear it.”

“I can help,” Rufus offered.

She shook her head. “I can handle it,” she assured him. 

She readied her knife and flashlight, moving towards the back room as he went back to work setting up the next explosive.

“If it’s that raccoon, I swear I’m making a Davey Crockett hat out of it,” she muttered.

The knocking intensified, coupled with some low moaning. Sparks took a deep breath and came around the corner.

The storeroom had several boxes of goods stacked up along the walls, and the back door was open. The raccoon ran around the floor, dodging the flailing arms of a clumsy zombie that wasn’t quite fast enough to grab it.

Sparks stayed in the shadows, waiting for the ghoul to turn its back on her. As soon as it did, she rushed forward and kicked it in the ass, sending it tumbling forward onto the ground. She jammed her blade into the back of its skull as the coon retreated into a corner, little eyes round as saucers.

“You’d better leave while you have the chance, little buddy,” Sparks said, and got back to her feet, heading to the back door. She peered out to see if there was any more trouble. 

The driveway was clear in both directions. Sparks looked at the raccoon and gave a few pssp sounds, coaxing the animal out of the building. Once it was out, she shut the door behind it.

“We’re clear back here!” she called to Rufus.

* * *

Meanwhile, Jeff worked his way up to the top of the exit ramp. As he approached the threshold, he could see down the moonlit interstate, and what he saw made his blood run cold.

Less than a quarter mile away was the front edge of the horde, shuffling towards him. He ducked down, staying out of sight as much as he could, knowing that if one glimpsed him that they could potentially speed up.

They needed every second.

“Fucking hell,” he murmured under his breath. “Not gonna be long now.” He stared into the voice for another moment before taking a deep breath and turning tail, running back towards his team. 

“We have five minutes, max!” he called.

Trenton fed a tripwire through the second last bomb’s pin. “Help me, then,” he instructed. “Steady this ladder.”

Jeff rushed over and held onto the ladder so that Trenton could slide down it quickly. Once he was down, the skinhead grabbed it and ran it over to the final elevated device, standing at the bottom to hold it steady so Trenton could scramble back to the top.

Sparks and Rufus emerged from the second building, and Jeff waved at them.

“Five minutes, max!” he yelled.

Rufus sighed. “Dammit, we don’t have time to set the rest of these up,” he said with a sigh.

“What about one big blast?” Sparks asked.

He shook his head. “The extra firepower ain’t gonna take that many more out,” he explained.

“But will it be louder?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Rufus nodded. “Yeah, should be,” he replied.

“Then that’s all we care about,” Sparks said, patting him on the shoulder. “We just want to pull them off of the interstate. Killing them was just an added bonus in the second round.”

The older man shrugged. “Bit blast it is, then,” he declared.

They ran to the corner building, not bothering to go inside and instead setting up the devices on the outer edge so it covered the most ground.

As Rufus worked on the small explosives, Sparks took out her knife and punched a small hole into the front window so that he could feed the fuse through it. She approached the front door with her flashlight, busting in to clear the building.

It was a small boutique clothing store, and during her quick sweep, she was relieved that there was no movement at all. 

“We’re clear in here!” she said as she emerged back into the street. 

“Good,” Rufus replied, and held out the fuse. “Take this and run it inside,” he instructed. “Give it about a four-minute fuse.”

She raised an eyebrow. “How do I determine that?” she asked.

“About thirty seconds a foot,” he said.

Sparks nodded and fed it through the window, running back in through the front door to pull through the proper length. Once she had it secure, she ran back outside.

“Jeff, go pop off a few rounds and then hurry back here,” she called. “We need to pull as many of those things this way as possible!”

“Where are we meeting?” the skinhead asked.

“Last store on this block,” Sparks said, “that way we can see them hit the trip wire.”

Jeff nodded and rushed back towards the interstate as Trenton hit the ground. The younger man joined them as Rufus got to his feet.

“Trenton, get to the building and start moving the metal display racks to the front window so that we have some added protection,” Sparks instructed. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

The kid nodded and raced off.

Rufus furrowed his brow and turned to her. “You wanna tell me why we aren’t all running there now?” he asked.

She took a deep breath. “Because I want you to head back to the bridge,” she said firmly.

“Girl, I ain’t leaving you,” he countered immediately.

“How many rattlers do you have left?” she asked.

He pursed his lips. “Four or five,” he replied.

“They’re going to need them on the bridge to thin them out,” she said.

Rufus ran a hand through his hair and nodded begrudgingly. “All right, I’ll head back,” he agreed. “You know what to do here, right?”

“Yep, take cover on the first blast,” she replied with a reassuring smile. “Then, wait until they’re filled up again before lighting the next fuse. Once we do that, we run like hell.”

He nodded and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly against him. “Now you don’t take too long,” he said, voice thick as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, “or else I’m gonna come looking for you, girl.”

Sparks smiled affectionately at him and kissed him softly before giving him a hug. They parted, sharing one last smile before heading in their respective directions.

* * *

“Come get some, motherfuckers!” Jeff bellowed from the base of the exit ramp. There was a huge moving mass on the bridge above, with only a few stragglers heading down towards him. 

He aimed and began firing rapidly. He couldn’t see where his shots were hitting, but it didn’t really matter all that much. A few moments later, the few zombies became a stream of ghouls heading his way.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he yelled, “come and fuckin’ get me!”

He finished the rest of his magazine before reloading. As he stood there, waiting for the ghouls to come towards him, he jumped at the sound of a wet smack behind him.

He whipped around. “What the hell?” he breathed, laying his eyes on a smooshed zombie, flattened on the pavement. A second later, two more fell from the bridge, splattering on the road. He looked up, surprised at the amount of ghouls reaching over the side of the bridge to try to get to him.

“Skydiving zombies,” he muttered, shaking his head. “What’s next?”

He aimed up and fired a couple of times, which enraged the ghouls at the edge even more, sending them flopping over. He watched with amusement as they splattered on impact.

“I think I found a new favourite pastime,” he said brightly, and watched a few more crash to the ground before checking the exit ramp.

He gave the ghouls a wave and then turned to head to the rendezvous point. As he jogged up the street, he watched the front end of the breakaway group get to the bottom of the exit ramp. He was relieved to see a thick pack of ghouls following the leaders.

As he reached the store, Sparks appeared in the doorway, waving him in. He ducked inside and she closed the door behind him, securing it.

“Looks like you drew a crowd,” she said, appraising his handiwork through the window.

“And, had some high divers from the bridge,” the skinhead replied with a grin. “I swear, if we are ever bored, we should round up a few of them and have our own zombie olympics. Judge them on their diving form and whatnot.”

Trenton snorted. “We really need to find you a hobby,” he said.

“What in the hell would you call zombie diving, then?” Jeff shot back.

Trenton raised an eyebrow. “Signs of mental illness?” he asked.

Sparks guffawed and patted the skinhead on the shoulder. “Well, if you’re a good boy, Santa might set that up for your Christmas gift,” she said gently.

“Shit, I gotta be good?” Jeff scoffed, shaking his head. “Oh well, it was a fun thought.”

They shared a chuckle and then settled in behind the barricaded window, hiding behind the metal display racks for protection. They looked through the gaps towards the far end of the road, watching the ghouls shuffle towards them.

“Hard to believe that this is just a tiny fraction of what is on the interstate,” Trenton murmured.

Jeff took a deep breath. “Trust me, you start believing it real quick when that horde is staring you in the face,” he said.

“Oh I know, already done it,” Trenton replied. “Not exactly looking forward to doing it again.”

“Well, enjoy the next twenty minutes of peace, then,” Jeff quipped.

Sparks shushed them as the ghouls grew closer, reaching the edge of the block. While she knew it was unlikely that a little talking would draw the zombies in their direction, she didn’t want to take the chance.

The group tensed a bit as the first ghouls became parallel to the store, most of them looking worse for wear. The bodies had been severely damaged by exposure at the constant desert winds pelting them with dust. Even though they’d fought several groups of corpses for the past few days, this was the first time they’d gotten a sustained look at them from safety, giving them time to really scrutinize the enemy.

My god, if those bodies are able to withstand that much damage and still keep moving… Sparks thought, eyes widening. These things are going to be with us forever.

She took a deep breath and shook the dark thoughts away, staying focused on the situation at hand. The group watched as the ghouls wandered past the window, filling the street from building to building.

“The tripwire is about ten yards up from where they are,” Sparks whispered. “Be ready.”

The boys gave her a thumbs up, and the three braced for violent detonation. After what seemed like an eternity, one of the zombies finally reached the wire.

The explosion was deafening, sending a small shock wave through the street in rapid succession as the wire pulled the pins from each device. Shrapnel scattered, piercing the skulls and torsos of numerous corpses, not to mention the glass storefronts lining the street.

Thankfully, the window they hid behind didn’t completely shatter, though cracks spider-webbed across it.

Sparks stood up, a little woozy from the force of the blast, which had been much larger than she’d anticipated. She was relieved to see the front window still held together, but less so at the result of the bombs.

Only about seventy percent of the zombies in the street had been eliminated, or at least knocked down. It was difficult to tell in the dim light, but it appeared to her as though several of the ones on the ground still flailed around, struggling to get up.

She lingered a little too long, and then a couple of the ghouls took notice of her, turning and moaning, wandering towards her instead of to the north.

“Fuck,” she muttered, and ducked quickly.

“What?” Jeff hissed.

“They saw me,” she whispered, “stay quiet.”

The boys nodded, and they all stayed stock still, barely even breathing. After a few tense moments, something smacked on the glass, a familiar sound that the trio knew to be zombie hands.

A moment later, more hands joined in, and then more, and more.

“That glass is damaged pretty bad,” Sparks said quietly. “It’s not going to last much longer.”

“Then let’s light these things and get the fuck outta dodge!” Jeff hissed.

Sparks shook her head. “Not yet,” she replied. “We have to wait until the last possible moment to light it.”

He didn’t seem exactly enthused with that answer, but nodded. They only had one chance, and they had to make it count.

The group continued lying low, listening to the growing chorus of moans and smacking on the glass. Their hearts jumped a beat when the glass finally began to crack under the weight of the zombies. After several moments of this, the cracking escalated to the sound of glass cascading to the floor.

The trio lunged forward, putting their weight against the metal shelving to hold the enemy in place. The sound of falling glass alerted even more ghouls from outside. Sparks stood on tiptoes to look over the shelves and saw a few dozen more corpses headed their way.

“Trenton, light it up!” she cried, and he broke away from them.

Jeff shoved in to try to hold the display from two positions as the younger man ran to the corner to find the fuse and light it.

“We’re lit!” he called back.

“Out the back, now!” Sparks yelled, and they broke away from the shelves at the same time, tearing for the back of the store. As soon as they let go, the metal slid across the floor under the weight of the horde outside.

The trio didn’t spend any time watching them as they rushed to the back. They ran through the back room to the exit, pausing very briefly at the back door, Sparks in the lead.

“Trenton, you light the next building, and I’ll handle the corner,” she said quickly. “Jeff, you cover our escape.” 

The men nodded in unison, and she threw open the door. They raced outside into the alley behind the buildings, which was still clear. They pumped their legs hard towards the bridge, Trenton breaking off into the first building and Sparks ducking into the second one.

Jeff pulled out his machete, readying himself for anything that might come around the corner.

Sparks tore through the small store, moving to the southern wall to remain out of sight. When she reached the front where the fuse was, she pulled out her lighter, but then paused. She peeked around the corner towards the bridge. She was relieved to see a fresh batch of ghouls coming off of the interstate, attracted by the explosions. The new horde seemed to be having issues navigating the roadway that was now filled with freshly killed corpses, stumbling and tripping and falling all over themselves.

“Dammit,” she muttered to herself, “they aren’t going to get up here in time for the explosion.” She shook her head and lit the fuse. “Guess we’ll have to settle for more breaking away.”

She tore out the back of the store to meet up with the others. When she emerged into the alleyway, the two men were smacking down zombies coming down the side street. There were only a handful, maybe a half dozen, but it was enough to keep them busy.

Sparks rushed forward, landing with a powerful front kick, sending one ghoul into several others. “We hold this line for forty-five seconds, then run like hell,” she declared.

The trio hacked and slashed at the coming zombies that were quickly growing from six to a few dozen attracted by the noise. Sparks continued to fight, the main thought running through her head, God I hope I put two full minutes on that fuse. She shoved her worries aside and went into full countdown mode.

With every strike, her mind was focused on the seconds.

Twenty-eight… twenty-seven…

A tightly grouped batch of ghouls came up the street, maybe eight or so, almost set up like bowling pins.

Nineteen… eighteen…

Sparks broke the line and ran directly at the group. She picked up a head of steam before leaping into the air, planting her foot directly in the chest of the front zombie and sending the entire group falling backwards. 

She quickly pulled out her handgun and opened fire at the nearby ghouls that she ran by to reach the pack.

Nine… eight…

She fired off a few more shots before retreating at full speed. 

When she reached her companions, she opened her mouth. “Run, run, run!” she screamed.

The men turned just as she blew past them, and took off like a shot, pumping their legs hard to get up the side street. They barely got half a block up when the first bomb went off. The trio didn’t stop running until they reached the end of the second block.

When they did stop, Sparks did a quick sweep of the area to make sure they were alone. As she did this, the bomb that Trenton lit detonated, sending a fireball into the night sky.

Sparks looked back towards the stores, watching as a growing number of ghouls headed their way up the road, some of them almost at the back end of the store.

“Come on, come on…” Sparks murmured to herself.

She didn’t have to wait long for the giant stockpile of redneck rattlers to detonate. The fireball not only reached high into the heavens, but also completely engulfed everything on that block in hellfire.

“Woo!” Jeff bellowed, throwing his arms into the air. “Burn, motherfuckers, burn!”

He and Trenton exchanged a high five as Sparks stared intently at the fire, hoping that the flames were enough to quell the threat. As it began to die down, her hope was rewarded with no zombies headed their way. They were in enough of a shadow that the ghouls currently walking down the main street to the north couldn’t see them.

“That went a lot better than I expected it to,” Trenton admitted.

Jeff raised an eyebrow. “Shit, is it my turn to be the optimist today?” he asked.

As if on cue, a redneck rattler went off on the bridge, and they watched the resulting fireball light up the zombie-packed area.

“I think we can shelve that idea entirely for the rest of the morning,” Sparks said.

They stared up at the scene in stunned silence for a moment, and then finally the redhead sighed.

“Come on,” she said, “let’s get up there.” 

The trio took off towards the bridge, hoping that the men on the line were able to hold it.

Chapter Four

The scene on the bridge was chaotic with a full line of zombies pressed up against the metallic barricade. All of them moaned and reached out for the fresh prey that was on the other side.

Rodriguez stood in the center, right at the point of the V-shape, delivering several strikes to the top of a zombie’s head with a lead pipe. As soon as it slumped over, he turned and cupped a hand around his mouth.

“Keep hitting them hard!” he bellowed. “We have to stop them from pushing!”

He went back to bashing as the other men on the line delivered strikes of their own, using a mixture of blunt objects and bladed weapons. Zombies fought to get over the waist-high metal structure, and the men defended with all they had.

On the outer edges of the bridge, several ghouls lost their balance, tumbling over the side when their brethren pushed from behind them. Corpses landed hard on the pavement below, liquefying their fragile skulls and ending the threat.

Javier stood on the north side of the bridge, close to the edge, hacking away with his machete before glancing over the side at the dozens of zombies plummeting to the ground. Distracted by the sight, he startled as a rotted hand grabbed his arm.

He reacted quickly, bringing his machete down on the ghoul’s elbow joint, snapping it clean off. He quickly spiked the creature in the face with the blade before grabbing the limb and tossing it over the side.

Rodriguez continued the good fight in the middle of things and then paused at light creaking in the metal barricade.

“It can’t start buckling yet,” he breathed in disbelief. He glanced back at Rufus, who was ducking underneath the wire at the back and rushing towards him. “Do you have explosives?” he yelled.

The older man nodded. “Where do you need them?” he asked.

“We need to relieve pressure on this center joint,” Rodriguez replied, motioning to the barricade.

Rufus rummaged around in his canvas bag. “Not a problem,” he said, and pulled out a redneck rattler. He lit it up and gave it a solid toss straight ahead, landing it about fifteen yards deep into the horde. “Fire in the hole!” he bellowed.

The men all braced themselves, and a few moments later the rattler detonated, sending flames into the sky as well as obliterating the zombies around it. This created a nice pocket within the horde and relieved the pressure on the center of the barricade. The force of the blast also went a few dozen ghouls tumbling over the edges of the bridge.

“How many more do you have?” Rodriguez asked.

Rufus rummaged around again, doing a quick count. “I got four,” he replied.

Rodriguez nodded. “You stay close to me, I’ll let you know when to throw another,” he instructed.

“I’ll be ready,” Rufus replied.

On the south side of the bridge, Domingo fought using a piece of rebar as a makeshift spear. He lined up his shot and lunged forward, stabbing a ghoul in the eye before doing it again. His aim wasn’t always accurate, with the tip of the metal ending up in a forehead, but he was strong enough to be able to punch through the skull since it was weakened with decay.

As he lined up another shot, one of the men to his left started yelling, drawing his attention. He looked over and saw that a zombie had gotten a hold of him and the man was panicking.

Domingo broke away from his post and ran over, delivering a vicious strike to the side of the attacking corpse’s head. His companion thrashed and then finally broke free from the death grip, giving Domingo a jerky nod of thanks.

As he went back to his post, he saw a zombie had managed to tumble over the side. The creature fell on top of a dead corpse that had been pushed over by the horde, and Domingo rushed forward, aiming his weapon at the ghoul’s chest, planting it hard.

His momentum forced it back, slamming it into the side of the bridge. He ducked down, grabbing its legs and flipping it over the side, taking the weapon with it.

“Dammit,” he muttered, and darted back to the barricade, bending down to grab another chunk of rebar before resuming his onslaught.

Rufus stood back, watching the half-dozen men wage constant battle on the ghouls. No matter how many zombies they struck down, more appeared, and soon there were so many dead bodies on the front line that the weight of the ones behind them crushed the unmoving ones, cutting them in two. Within minutes there was a grotesque collection of torsos on the living side of the line.

“Rufus, bomb!” Rodriguez bellowed.

The old man snapped back to his task, lighting another bomb and tossing it into the crowd. A few moments later, the fireball illuminated the area, revealing that they had barely done any damage. As the flames subsided, the sun peeked over the horizon, fully showing how much trouble they were really in.

Rufus stood on his tiptoes, looking back down the interstate and seeing that it was completely full of zombies stretching as far as he could see. From his vantage point it was difficult to see the exit ramp where they set the traps, but it appeared as though there were several zombies moving off.

Not that this did them much good up front.

Javier continued to battle the horde, hacking and slashing away at the ghouls. He glanced over to a beast of a cartel member beside him that was doing work with a sledgehammer, swinging it like a baseball bat and dislodging several heads with each arc. He worked his way up and down the line, delivering strike after strike after strike.

As this was happening, Javier froze at the sound of creaking metal in front of him. He looked down and realized that the end of the barricade was beginning to buckle ever so slightly under the weight. 

Rather than panic, an idea popped into his head, and he let out a sharp whistle to get the attention of the sledgehammer-wielding giant.

“Get over here, quick!” Javier cried.

The man didn’t hesitate, running along the line to him and standing at attention.

“We need to relieve pressure on this,” Javier said, pointing to the barricade. “Can you push these things towards the edge?”

The man smiled and nodded, understanding exactly what he needed to do. He turned and used the sledgehammer as a battering ram, putting it in the chest of a ghoul and shoving as hard as he could.

The force of the push sent those nearest to the edge, tumbling over, like a quarter push game at a casino.

“It’s working!” Javier cried excitedly.

The giant continued, shoving the zombies and creating a constant stream of corpses falling to their doom below. As he did this, Javier continued to crack skulls. Their combined effort relieved the pressure on the barricade and stopped the creaking.

As this happened, Sparks, Trenton, and Jeff came up the side street a block away from the bridge. They stopped in the middle of the road, watching as the stream of corpses fell off of the bridge and slammed into the ground.

“See, I told you zombie diving was awesome,” Jeff declared.

Trenton laughed. “Hard to argue that,” he admitted.

Another huge explosion went off on the bridge, sending a fresh fireball into the air and rotted body parts raining down onto the street below.

“Come on, we gotta get up there,” Sparks urged, and took off at a run. 

She led the trio to the on-ramp, making sure to stick to the side of the road to avoid being crushed by the raining ghouls from above. By the time they reached the ramp, they noticed that the zombies smacking into the ground weren’t hitting with as much of a thud as they’d been earlier.

They paused briefly to look over, noticing that the freshly flying zombies were landing on the corpses of their brethren. While it was still enough to take the majority of them out, some continued to writhe and move after impact.

“Fuck, they’re cushioning the fall,” Jeff muttered.

Sparks shook her head. “That’s going to be an issue, soon,” she said, “come on.” She sprinted up the ramp, the others close behind, as some of the fallen ghouls managed to get to their feet under the bridge, surviving the fall.

“Rufus!” Sparks cried as she ducked under the barbed-wire barrier.

“There you are, girl,” he said, whirling around with relief in his eyes. “I was starting to get worried.”

“Where is Rodriguez?” she asked immediately.

He pointed to the center of the v-shaped barricade where Rodriguez continued to bash in heads.

“Jeff, relieve him,” Sparks declared, motioning to the cartel member.

The skinhead nodded and ran up, bellowing, “Rodriguez, switch out!”

He took a step back and looked over his shoulder, spotting Sparks and company having arrived. He casually tossed his large metal pipe to Jeff, who immediately took his spot, bashing in heads.

“Glad you returned safely,” Rodriguez said as he approached Sparks.

“What’s the status up here?” she asked.

He shook his head. “We’re holding on, but barely,” he admitted. “The barricade is starting to buckle at the top, but we’re relieving some pressure on the sides by shoving those things off. With you here, we might be able to push more.”

“That’s a temporary solution,” she replied. “Because some of them are surviving the fall by landing on the others.”

His brow furrowed in concern. “How many?” he asked, shoulders slumping in defeat.

“Only a handful right now,” Sparks replied. “But the more we push over, the bigger the cushion they have.”

“I fear as though we don’t have much of a choice,” Rodriguez said, spreading his arms. “Without relieving the pressure, this barricade is going to collapse.”

Sparks pursed her lips for a moment in thought and then raised an eyebrow. “Do we have any more of those radio setups?”

“Yes, should still be a couple in my vehicle,” he replied, nodding. “Why?”

“There’s a house just across the street from the bridge,” Sparks explained, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m going to set that thing up and pull some of those things off.”

Rodriguez nodded and motioned to the vehicle. “Should be in the back seat,” he said.

She turned to head off, but Rufus caught her arm, eyes concerned. 

“You’re not doing anything stupid now, are you girl?” he asked.

She smiled at him. “It’s only stupid if it doesn’t work,” she joked.

“What do you need me to do?” he asked firmly.

“When you’re done being a bomber, I need you to grab an assault rifle,” she explained. “I’m going to need cover coming back up that ramp.”

“I’ll clear the road for you,” Rufus promised.

Sparks turned towards the line. “Jeff, Trenton,” she yelled, “stay up here and do whatever Rodriguez needs you to do! I’ll be back.”

Both men called back, “Yes, ma’am!” 

Sparks raced off to the SUV with Rufus in tow. She threw it open and they dug around, the redhead finding the radio equipment and dragging it out. Rufus grabbed a couple of scoped AR-15s along with a small bag filled with several full magazines.

“You going to be firing both of those at once?” Sparks asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shook his head. “Nope,” he replied, “but I figure you’re going to want to get in on the fun once you get back.”

“Good call,” she agreed with a nod. “You have any explosives yet?”

He grinned. “Saved one just for you,” Rufus replied. “Buying that barricade a few extra minutes ain’t worth risking you, girl.”

“You’re too good for me,” she said with a warm smile.

He winked at her. “Don’t sell yourself short,” he said. “You’re worth it.”

They stepped away from the SUV, slamming the trunk shut before rushing over to the top of the on-ramp. They looked down at the dozen or so zombies spread out over the bottom half, slowly working their way up.

“Which way you wanna go?” Rufus asked.

She inclined her head. “Going down the left side,” she said. “Barring some major gathering, I’m coming back that way, too.”

He readied his rifle, aiming downrange. The rising sun illuminated the area, and despite being low in the sky, it wasn’t shining in his eyes. He aimed carefully, picking out the closest corpse and squeezing the trigger. The zombie’s head exploded, and the body dropped to the ground.

“I’ll hold down the fort,” he declared. “Just don’t be too long.”

Sparks nodded and took off like a shot, darting to the left side of the on-ramp. She pumped her legs hard, bullets whizzing from behind her. A couple of the zombies to her right, still about five yards away but headed towards her, dropped as shots ripped through their skulls.

She moved farther to the left as she reached the bottom of the ramp, bodies hitting the ground rapidly, more than a few every second. Most landed on other bodies, but some hit fresh concrete and splattered spectacularly.

She raced towards a house a block up, the closest one to her. As she approached, a few zombies came out from the side, attracted to the noise. She didn’t waste time, pulling out her handgun and opening fire. In a matter of seconds, they’d all dropped.

She raced up to the wooden front door, trying the handle but finding it locked. She backed up without hesitation, aiming her gun at the locking mechanism and opening fire. Three bullets did the trick, freeing the door from the frame. She kicked it in and burst inside, doing a quick sweep of the living room.

While there were no zombies, the scene inside was one of carnage, with overturned furniture and long-dried blood splattered everywhere.

“Fuck,” she muttered. With a scene like this and a locked door, there was a good chance she wasn’t alone. She also knew that time was short, so she raced through the house, rather than being cautious. “Hey, come on out!” she bellowed as she ran and ducked into the kitchen.

There was no movement in there, but she heard shuffling from the back bedroom. Sparks found the hallway, spotting a lumbering corpse at the back. She quickly fired as she advanced, waiting for more to come out. As the first collapsed, another zombie staggered out of the bedroom door and she put it down efficiently with a bullet to the forehead.

She paused, letting out a loud whistle before falling quiet and straining her ears. There wasn’t any more noise, so she booked it back to the living room.

When she reached it, she spotted a few zombies shuffling across the front yard towards the house, and she took them down with well-placed bullets before slamming the front door. Rather than open the windows, she picked up a small table beside the recliner and used the legs to smash the glass.

Once it was out of the way, she put the table down in front of the gaping window and started setting up the audio equipment. Just as she finished setting the speakers up, she spotted several ghouls in the front yard, coming her way. She quickly left the equipment and grabbed the recliner, dragging it over and pressing it against the busted front door.

Not gonna buy me a lot of time, she thought as she rushed back to the audio equipment, but hopefully I don’t need that much.

* * *

Meanwhile, the situation on the bridge was becoming more intense. With no more explosives to thin the herd, the pressure on the beams increased.

Rodriguez stood by Jeff as the two of them wailed on the ghouls in front of them. In between the cracking of skulls, they could hear the unmistakable sound of metal creaking and giving way.

Jeff glanced over at the giant Cartel member using his hammer to shove more zombies over the edge of the bridge. “Why aren’t we doing that?!” he exclaimed.

“Not going to do much good to push back from here, is it?” Rodriguez replied.

“If we push ‘em sideways, it might,” the skinhead countered. “Gets them off the line and over the edge.”

The sound of metal deteriorating intensified, forcing Rodriguez to adapt to the unorthodox plan from his unlikely partner. He looked over at the sledgehammer-wielding Cartel member and let out a whistle, motioning for him to come over.

“Yes, boss?” the man asked.

“We’re pushing from the center point here towards the edge,” Rodriguez explained, motioning.

The beastly man looked from the center to the edge of the bridge, his eyes raking over the approximate twenty yards. Despite his reservations, he didn’t question it. “Where do you want me?” he asked.

Rodriguez motioned to his left, and Jeff took up position to his right. The three of them used the blunt ends of their respective weapons and pressed against corpse chests.

“PUSH!” Rodriguez yelled, and the trio shoved with everything they had, straining to move the large crowd even a little. After several moments, they began to move a bit along the line. Finally, one of the creatures tilted back enough that it was forced to take a full step back. When it did, this set off a chain reaction that rippled through the crowd, sending zombies over the edge of the bridge.

“It’s working!” Javier cried and joined in from his position near the edge. He moved about five yards away, shoving the line of ghouls along, which in turn made the trio in the center’s job easier.

Soon they’d pushed as far as they could, their knees hitting the barricade. Several arms from the sides reached out, attempting to grab them, and the trio instinctively leapt backwards.

“Wait until they are back up and do it again,” Rodriguez instructed.

Both Jeff and the Cartel member let out grunts in response, too tired to muster proper words. At least it got their point across.

Suddenly, Domingo’s voice erupted from the south side of the bridge. “Breach!” he screamed. “Breach!”

The trio turned and saw that the section of barricade from the middle of the right flank had bent to the point of a small opening. Zombies wedged their way in and began to pop out on the living side. 

Without instruction, both Jeff and the beastly Cartel member rushed over. Domingo was attempting to beat back the horde, but he wasn’t terribly effective at it.

“Move,” the large Cartel member demanded, and Domingo immediately retreated, shoving the zombie he’d been fighting.

The ghoul stumbled a bit but remained standing, at least until a sledgehammer smashed it in the head and flipped it over backwards.

Jeff rushed up to the hole, swinging his pipe wildly. Three zombies shoved through the small jagged opening, leaving chunks of flesh in the metal as they pressed in.

The skinhead brained the first one, dropping it to the ground. Before he could swing at it, the sledgehammer came flying in, nearly exploding the ghoul head it hit. 

“I’ll hold them back,” the beastly Cartel member instructed, “you pack the hole with them.” 

Jeff nodded, catching what he was implying. The behemoth pushed hard, shoving the ghouls back a bit, and the skinhead went to work, grabbing corpses and shoving them into the hole. While it wasn’t a perfect solution, it would buy them a little time. As he continued to shove bodies in, loud music blasted from the north.

“Sparks, thank god,” Jeff breathed, letting out a sigh of relief. 

* * *

Sparks put the finishing touches on the music, cranking the volume up as loud as it would go. 

“Good as it’s going to get,” she muttered, and looked out the front window towards the door. 

She’d drawn quite a crowd, at least fifteen to twenty ghouls moshing around. She reloaded her gun as she got ready to make a run for it.

“Back door it is, then,” she said, and darted to the back of the house. The recliner blocking the door screeched across the tiles under the weight of the zombies, and she pressed herself against the wall next to the back door.

She peered out to survey the area, seeing half a dozen creatures in the immediate area between her house and the next, but none closer than ten yards to her.

She burst through the back door, taking aim and shooting the closest ghoul to pave her way, and then took off through the backyards. She was less than a block away from the bridge and the on-ramp.

Bodies fell from the top by the dozens, a combination of the noise and what looked like the men shoving them off. She ran as hard as she could, occasionally glancing over to make sure there wasn’t an immediate threat to her as the falling zombies staggered to their feet after landing on their cushion.

Something that was helping was that occasionally a falling zombie would land on a standing ghoul below, knocking them both over, but this wasn’t always the case.

Sparks continued to sprint towards the on-ramp, but had to skid to a stop just across the street from the base of it. There were easily fifty to sixty ghouls on the bottom half of the ramp. At the top, Rufus picked his targets and dropped them as quickly as he could.

She stayed in hiding, taking a knee by a bush on the corner. While it did its job for the moment, it wouldn’t be good for very long. She watched Rufus closely as he fired round after round, waiting for him to pause to reload.

There was no path for her to make it up the ramp, as the zombies were packed too thickly. Finally Rufus fired the last round in his magazine and began to reload. As he did, Sparks took out her handgun and fired it several times in the air to get the horde’s attention. 

The old man’s head snapped up, and he locked eyes with her for a brief moment, a silent exchange telling him exactly what needed to be done. He reached into his bag, grabbing the redneck rattler and quickly lighting it up. He threw it to his left as hard as he could, bouncing it off the pavement before finally coming to rest about three-quarters of the way down the ramp.

“Come on, come on…” Sparks breathed, continuing her hopeful prayer until the device detonated. 

The fireball and concussion from the blast was intense, the heat smacking Sparks in the face even from behind the bush fifty yards away. The blast shredded the ghouls closest to the bomb, setting fire to others and knocking most of the creatures on the ramp to the ground.

She didn’t waste any time, bursting out of hiding and sprinting towards the ramp.

The zombies in her path started to move around, slowly picking themselves up. She did her best to dodge them, staying as far to the non-bridge side of the ramp as she could. As she ran, Rufus continued to pick his targets and fire, putting down several corpses before they could get up.

As she neared the final row of ghouls, some of them managed to get back to their feet. Rufus didn’t dare attempt a shot with her so close, so she drew her handgun to deal with them herself.

She started firing while still running, not the most accurate with her shots, but she did manage to strike a couple in the head, giving her a clear path to the top. When she reached Rufus, he immediately squeezed off several more shots, picking off the ones closest to them.

“You okay, girl?” he asked.

She nodded. “Never better,” she declared.

He smiled and lowered his shoulder so that she could pull the extra assault rifle from his back. The couple stood there for a moment, admiring the scene in front of them, guns in hand.

Between the zombies and the actions of the people of the bridge, it looked like a moderately steady waterfall of corpses plummeting to the ground.

“Never thought I’d see anything quite like that in my life,” Rufus admitted. “And believe me, I’ve seen some serious shit.”

Sparks nodded. “Definitely a first for me, too,” she agreed.

They looked down to the landing pad, and the steady stream had created quite a cushion for the ghouls to land on. The bodies were stacked up easily ten zombies high, and growing by the minute.

“Jesus, and this rate it’s not gonna take long until they’re up to the bridge,” Rufus said.

Sparks checked her weapon, chambering a round loudly. “Well, let’s buy the time they need to get to that point,” she suggested.

The duo took aim and started firing, picking their targets and dropping them one by one.

* * *

Back on the bridge, the trio of strong men fought hard at shoving the mass of rotting flesh over the edges of the bridge. Jeff and Rodriguez stood on the north side, while the beast with the sledgehammer stayed on the south side.

Working in conjunction with this were a handful of other Cartel members and Trenton, who were all using various instruments to cave in heads and pierce skulls along the line, hoping to create some flesh padding against the barrier. Despite their best efforts, the barricade continued to strain and creak under the weight of a million zombies pressing hard against it.

While they fought, Trenton glanced back and realized zombies had begun wandering up the southern exit ramp to push against the barbed wire.

“Contact on our six!” he bellowed and broke away from the line while the Cartel members continued to battle what was in front of them. As he ran back, he counted half a dozen ghouls pressing against the thin line of wire.

With his metal pipe firmly in his hands, he swung hard with overhead strikes, coming down hard on the ghouls. The first one slumped over the barbed wire, forcing him to take the time to push it off. The wire was more of a last resort to buy them time rather than an actual barricade, and he knew that it wouldn’t take much to collapse it.

He continued to swing rapidly, trying to eliminate the threat before it became too great. As he hit them hard, he could hear Sparks and Rufus unloading a lot of bullets, and his stomach sank at the realization that this operation could be in a lot of trouble.

Trenton ducked back as a tall zombie reached for him, rotted fingers barely missing his face. He retaliated with an overhead strike, caving in its head and sending its hulking frame back to collapse the line all on its own.

After several more swings, the immediate threat was over. Trenton ducked under the line and ran to the top of the exit-ramp to see what the approaching danger looked like. He made it about two steps before he was forced to swing again, cracking a zombie in the side of the head as it lunged for him.

He frantically looked around, entire body tense and on edge. Several dozen ghouls that had survived their falls worked their way up the ramp, the closest at twenty-five yards away.

“Shit,” he muttered, “if they get up here, we’re toast.”

He raced back to the SUVs, opening up the backs to find anything that might be of us. He found an AR-15 and a couple of mags, and grabbed them all, rushing back to the top of the ramp.

He wasn’t that adept with the weapon, but he took his time and lined up his shot before pulling the trigger. He managed to hit the first few targets within fifteen yards of him, before attempting one that was further away at twenty-five. The three shots he tried at that distance missed.

Be patient, he thought to himself. They’ll get within range soon.

He stood there, body on high alert, waiting for the threat to get within the kill zone. 

The group fought for the next half hour, with the gunmen keeping the ramps pacified, and the main force working on the main barricade line.

Jeff, Rodriguez and the sledgehammer wielding beast gave another shove before all three were forced to step back and take a knee. Exhaustion had begun to fully set in, pain rippling through their bodies and struggling to even stand up.

The trio sat on the ground, staring at the line of zombies. Finally, Jeff picked himself up off of the ground, standing on his tiptoes to see over the line. The zombie horde stretched back for miles still, causing him to shake his head in disgust.

“Christ, it’s like we haven’t even put a dent in them,” the skinhead groaned.

Javier glanced back at the fallen trio, having heard Jeff’s outburst, and gave one more big shove to get creatures over the side before turning towards them.

“Hey, big fella,” Javier declared, “we put a dent in them.” He waved for the skinhead to come over, and Jeff pushed himself to his feet, sauntering over to inspect the situation.

He looked down to see the complete flood of zombies below, reaching almost to the base of the bridge.

His eyes widened. “Goddamn, that’s a lot of fallen fuckers,” he breathed.

“A few thousand at least,” Javier replied. “Probably the same on the other side, too.”

As they talk, the steady gunfire from Sparks and Rufus below fell silent. The two men looked back, to see the two signalling they were out of ammo, and running to meet up with the group.

“Shit, that’s not good,” Jeff muttered. “Rodriguez!” he yelled. “We’re done, man!”

Rodriguez shook his head. “No, this line is holding,” he replied, struggling to get back to his feet.

Jeff approached him and hooked an arm under his, helping his exhausted frame to a standing. “That’s all good and well man,” he said gently, “but we’re about to be surrounded.”

The Cartel leader looked back at Sparks and Rufus ducking underneath the barbed wire and rushing towards them.

“We’ve done all we can,” Sparks said, shaking her head. “We have to go.”

“Those things will be up the ramp in ninety seconds,” Rufus added. “If we don’t go now, we aren’t going.”

Rodriguez let out a large sigh, growling in frustration. “Everyone, fall back to the trucks!” he shouted. “Move!”

All the men immediately broke away from the line, running towards the vehicles. As they grew close to the barbed wire line, the first few zombies emerged from the north side ramp.

The men ignored them completely, ducking under and racing for the vehicles.

As they grew close, the cracks of Trenton’s continued fire echoed in the air. Sparks broke away from the group, running in his direction, letting out a loud whistle once she was within view.

“We’re leaving!” she yelled when he turned around to look at her. “Let’s move!”

He didn’t wait for an explanation, simply rushing back towards the others. They were the final ones to reach the SUVs, hopping in.

Before Trenton could even close the doors, the vehicle was in reverse, speeding backwards to put some time and distance between them and the zombies. When they were a quarter mile away, they stopped, close enough to still see the barricade.

Sparks rolled down the windows so she could hear. The moaning was almost deafening this close to the horde, but even with the noise they could hear the metal buckling under the pressure. At first it was just a few pops here and there, but soon, it was wholesale.

The group watched helplessly as the center of the barricade finally gave way, slowly opening up the path for the zombies. Only a small stream got through at the start, but with the main support structure eliminated, it didn’t take long for the full flood of ghouls to go from a stream to a raging river.

“Well, we gave it a hell of an effort,” Rufus said. “And didn’t lose anybody, which is a goddamned miracle.”

Sparks looked at her watch and nodded. “And we bought the town three hours to prepare,” she added.

“Let’s hope they didn’t squander it,” Jeff murmured.

The Cartel vehicles turned around and started to head back. Rodriguez stopped his vehicle beside theirs, leaning out the window.

“I wish we could have done more,” he said, brow set in a firm line. “But it is what it is.”

Sparks nodded tiredly. “By my calculation, we delayed them three hours,” she replied.

“I hope your town uses that time wisely,” Rodriguez said with a thoughtful nod.

“Same here,” Sparks agreed.

“I doubt I will be able to offer my additional help today, as I have other obligations,” Rodriguez said, taking a deep breath. “However, I will be in town about this time tomorrow with a small team to help with final preparations.”

She looked at her watch, doing some math in her head. “With the delay, they should be reaching us around dusk,” she said.

“That’s my thought as well,” he replied.

She gave him a sharp nod. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “Be safe.”

“You as well,” he replied, and then hit the gas, speeding away to catch up with the other vehicle.

The group sat in the SUV, taking one last long look at the horde as it slowly worked its way towards them.

“Come on girl,” Rufus said softly. “We got a lot to get done. Better get to it.” He laid a hand over hers on the shifter, and she looked over and smiled at him.

Sparks nodded and put the SUV into drive, making the turn for home. Their bodies relaxed against the seats, exhausted, but still high strung with the fear of what was on their tail.

Chapter Five

Sparks drove towards Fabens, passing the road sign that boasted Exit - 2 miles. The drive had been peaceful and mostly quiet. Jeff and Trenton both passed out in the backseat, but Rufus was still awake in the passenger seat, holding Sparks’ hand. She kept thinking he’d nodded off and then he’d stroke the back of her hand affectionately with his thumb and she’d smile over at him.

“Appreciate you staying up with me,” she said quietly, and then smirked. “I know when people get to your age, they need their rest.”

He laughed, letting go of her hand to jerk his thumb over his shoulder at the other two. “Apparently, I’m not the oldest person in the car.” He winked at her and she joined in his laughter.

He rolled his window down, hanging his arm out and letting the wind wave it like a little kid. Sparks’ brow furrowed when they neared the exit, and she spotted Rodriguez’ SUV pulling onto the interstate from town.

“That’s odd,” she murmured. “He’d said he wasn’t coming to town today.”

“Afraid to ask what changed,” Rufus added.

Sparks rolled off of the interstate, waving to the air horn scout as they drove by. He squeezed the horn, letting the town know of their arrival. 

As they pulled up to the command center, Leon was still standing out front, waiting for them. Sparks and Rufus got out, and their greeter immediately stiffened, brow furrowing.

“Relax,” Sparks said quickly, “they’re just asleep in the back seat.”

His shoulders slumped, and he let out a sigh of relief. “Man, I was about to say,” he said, shaking his head. “Rodriguez was about to have some explaining to do.”

“Speaking of Rodriguez, what was he doing here?” Sparks asked, cocking her head. “What was he doing here? He told us he was needed back in the city.”

“He is,” Leon replied with a nod. “He just came by to pick up some information for Hammond.”

“So they got through the line okay?” Sparks asked, afraid to feel hope for her friends.

Leon nodded again, scratching the back of his head. “Would appear so,” he replied. “Rodriguez couldn’t talk because of the others in the car. He just pulled up and took the info from me before speeding off.’

“What info?” Rufus asked.

“Just my thoughts on where I would plan an ambush,” came the tired reply. “It’s not much to go on, but hopefully it will help the Sergeant plan the assassination.”

“All I know is, it better work this time,” Rufus declared, raising his palms. “I’m too old to be wandering the desert.”

Sparks smirked at him. “You could be our Moses,” she joked.

“I’m too tired for a proper comeback,” the old man replied, giving her shoulder a playful shove.

“Ethel has some coffee inside,” Leon offered, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

“Nah, I need some sleep,” Rufus replied, the second half of his sentence cut off by a violent yawn. He stretched his arms over his head. “Catch up with you in a couple of hours?”

“Get some rest,” Sparks said, giving one of his hands a reassuring squeeze before motioning to the car. “And see if you can get those guys up.”

Rufus smirked and walked back to the SUV. He stuck his head in through the window and took a deep breath before yelling, “Oh my god we’re all gonna die!”

Both Jeff and Trenton shook awake violently, thrashing limbs and scrambling for weapons. Their eyes came into sharp focus on Rufus doubled over laughing outside of the car.

“If I wasn’t so tired,” Jeff slurred groggily, “you’d be running for your life, old man.”

“Well, come get your rest then, sonny boy,” Rufus drawled. “Because even rested, you ain’t catching shit.”

Both men begrudgingly staggered out of the SUV, moving slowly towards their houses.

“I got things under control here, if you want to get some sleep, too,” Leon offered as they watched the trio go. “I know you’ve had a hell of a morning.”

Sparks shook her head. “No, I’m good,” she assured him, taking a deep breath. “Just let me get some coffee and I can help out. What needs to be done next?”

“Well, with the Cartel gone for the day, I’m going to go get Rogers for a walkthrough,” he explained. “Why don’t you join us?”

Sparks smiled. “Sounds good,” she said, and motioned for him to lead the way inside.

They headed into the command center, filling up a thermos for Rogers and a paper cup for Sparks. The walk was quiet as she sucked the hot brew back fairly quickly, eyes brightening with each sip.

When they reached the school, they clambered over the front barrier to get to the doors, and Leon led her towards the gymnasium.

“He’s staying in a gym?” she asked.

“Yeah, it’s kind of remarkable, actually,” Leon replied. “Got him a nice little hideaway. I think it’s going to take some convincing to get him to move out of it once this is over.”

Sparks chuckled as she followed him to the wooden structure in the corner. Leon banged on the wall and they waited for a moment before the hidden door opened. Rogers stood in the doorway, his hair a little disheveled.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Leon said brightly, holding up the thermos. “I brought necessities.”

The Detective looked past his friend at Sparks, and she held up her cup to toast him with her own brew. He blushed a little, adjusting his rumpled three-day-old pajamas.

“And company,” he said, stepping out of the doorway. “Come on in, just please excuse the mess.”

The duo walked inside and shut the door to the man cave. The bed wasn’t made, things were scattered about, and Sparks stared around, amused, at how not a single area was even remotely clean.

“So, how are we looking out there?” Rogers asked.

Leon smiled. “Why don’t you put some clothes on and come see for yourself?” he offered.

Rogers froze, eyes widening. “Cartel?” he asked hesitantly.

“Taking the day off,” Leon assured him. “Apparently Tiago has them working on something big for him in El Paso. We have the run of the place today.”

Rogers blinked a few times, and his shoulders straightened, perking up significantly at the news. He reached for the top button of his pyjamas.

“Dude,” Leon said, raising his hands. “I know you’re eager, but show a little modesty.”

Rogers glanced at Sparks apologetically. “Oh, right,” he said, shaking his head. “There is a lady present.”

“Fuck that,” Leon shot back, “I was talking about me. I don’t need to see your man bits.” He exaggerated a shudder. “I’ve seen enough horror since this began.”

Rogers chuckled and walked back towards the door. He opened it, and the duo stepped out so he could get changed. “Be right out,” he promised.

As soon as the door clicked shut, the two shared a look, eyebrows raised.

“Somehow I doubt you’re going to have trouble getting him out of there,” Sparks said, taking a long sip of her coffee.

Leon shook his head. “Yeah, we might have to use this place as punishment,” he joked. “I’m a little concerned that my sense of smell is permanently damaged after stepping in there.”

Rogers emerged, straightening his shirt, and pushing his hair back into some sense of normalcy. “Alright, where are we starting?” he asked.

“Might as well start here,” Leon replied, motioning to the gymnasium proper.

“Lead on, then,” the Detective said with a flourish. “Despite living here, I haven’t seen much outside of my box and the bathroom this week.”

Leon turned and led the others through the school, chatting as he went. “The gym is going to be locked off, since the doors to the outside aren’t the best,” he began. “They took some damage from when we cleansed the town with fire. We have them locked down as best we can, but if a big enough crowd finds it, they’ll be able to get through.”

“So, I’m going to be homeless, then?” Rogers joked.

“After stepping foot in there, it’s probably for the best,” Leon quipped with a smirk. “Anyway, we’re going to lock down the interior doors, which should do the trick.”

“And if not?” Rogers asked, cocking his head.

Leon pointed up. “We have a fallback on the second floor,” he explained. “The stairwells are open, but we’ll have enough people to continually push them back down the stairs.”

“Sounds like fun,” Rogers murmured.

They moved down the hallway, peering into the classrooms as they passed. The windows were a hodgepodge of blockage, with desks bolted to the walls as barricades.

“That doesn’t look secure,” the Detective mused, pursing his lips.

“They’re nailed up pretty good,” Leon replied sheepishly. “We have volunteers for each classroom to reinforce the ones that get pushed down. The windows are fairly high off of the ground, so even if they do manage to break them, it’s going to be fairly easy to repel them.”

Sparks took a deep breath. “Assuming there aren’t too many of them,” she said dryly.

“Please tell me the defenses get a little better outside of the school,” Rogers said, pressing his palms together in prayer.

“They do,” Leon assured him, nodding. “We’ve put most of our attention on slowing down the horde rather than defending this position. Because, to be frank, if they get this far into town, we’re in a lot more trouble than any amount of defenses is going to combat.”

Sparks sighed. “I agree,” she said, shaking her head. “We need to keep as many of them near the interstate as possible so that they’ll start heading north when we detonate the humdinger.”

Rogers nodded slowly. “I’m guessing that thing is ready to go?” he asked.

“Yep, it’s rigged to blow, and we have a safe spot set aside for me after I light the fuse,” she explained.

Both men turned to her with wide eyes.

“Wasn’t aware you were the triggerman,” Leon said slowly.

Sparks tongued her cheek. “Whoever sets it off is going to have to fight through a horde to get to safety,” she replied. “And, let’s be honest, you’re going to have a hard time finding someone more capable of that than me.”

The men exchanged a glance and shrugged in acquiescence.

“Got us there,” Leon admitted. “You told Rufus yet, though? Because I get the sense he isn’t going to like that too much.”

Sparks wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, not looking forward to that conversation,” she said with a sigh. “But that’s future me’s problem. Let’s stick to the task at hand.”

“Of course,” Leon agreed, nodding and waving for them to follow him. “Come on, let’s get to the front.”

They headed out the front door and climbed the ladder to get over the barricade with wooden spikes sticking out. When they got back down to the ground, he turned around to allow Rogers time to admire it.

“That looks formidable,” he said.

Leon nodded in thanks. “Should hold up pretty good,” he replied. “We’re hoping that the spikes on the wall will help prevent a crowd from pressing against it.”

“Or at the very least, buy us a little more time before it collapses,” Sparks added.

Rogers shook his head. “Seems to be the common theme today,” he murmured.

Leon led them up the road towards the drainage ditch barricade. He motioned to the houses across the street from the school. Several of them had metal sheeting on the windows, with reinforced materials on the doors as well.

Rogers furrowed his brow. “What’s with the houses?” he asked.

“Contingency plan,” Leon explained. “If those things get to the school and surround us, we’re probably going to need some help getting out.”

Sparks cocked her head. “Are there even enough able-bodied people in this town to do that?” she asked.

“Hopefully you don’t mind us borrowing Jeff and Rufus,” Leon replied, chewing his lip for a moment. “I figure we’ll have both of them along with Trenton and Clara leading teams of three that can cause some diversions to draw those things away from the school. We have some people who I wouldn’t trust to be out in the field with you guys, but doing some limited stuff here in town, I think they can handle it.”

Sparks nodded sharply. “Whatever you need my group to do,” she said sincerely. “We’re in this together.”

Rogers motioned to the neighborhood, casting his eyes across the buildings. “How far do the houses go back?” he asked. “Surely you didn’t put them all on this street.”

“Come on man, give me more credit than that!” Leon replied, playfully offended as he put a hand to his chest. “We have two on this street. A couple more a few blocks over, and one clear on the other side of town.”

“Why so far away?” the Detective asked. 

“Never know when isolation will come in handy,” Leon replied with a shrug. “Come on, let’s go check out the drainage ditch.”

He led them towards the next line of defense a few blocks away. It was a few yards deep, and there was a hive of activity buzzing around it. The ditch ran the entire length of town and was covered in spikes made of every material they could find.

On approach, they spotted a couple dozen citizens working on shoring up the defenses. Some sat at the top, using knives to whittle broom handles into spikes, while others were in the ditch itself, digging small holes to shove them into. The spikes numbered about a dozen every yard, at multiple heights in order to capture the most creatures possible.

“Welcome to our main line of defense,” Leon said, spreading his arms.

Rogers looked left and right, letting out a low whistle to feign like he was impressed. He gave one of the citizens a thumbs up to keep their spirits up, and then turned away, motioning for Leon and Sparks to follow him away from the line.

He lowered his voice. “That’s the best we got?” he asked quietly.

“Afraid so,” Leon replied with a sigh, crossing his arms. “We have what, a mile and a half to defend? We simply don’t have the resources in this town to make that happen.”

“What about cars?” Rogers suggested.

Leon shook his head. “We’ve used some to shore up the bridges over the ditch,” he explained. “Most of the rest went to the outskirts of town.”

“These things have a tendency to wander off the road if they spot something,” Sparks added. “Last thing we want is for a group to see a rabbit and end up waltzing into town from our undefended flank. Even a group of a hundred could cause issues.”

Rogers shook his head, letting out a grunt of frustration. “Sorry, I know it’s not you guys,” he said with a heavy sigh. “I’m just frustrated at the situation.”

“We know man, it’s all good,” Leon said, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “We’re in the same boat with you.”

“How effective do you think those spikes are going to be?” the Detective asked. “Realistically?”

Leon and Sparks exchanged a worried look, silently debating numbers with just their gazes.

Finally, the former turned back to his friend. “Depends on how many we can draw away from the main column of them,” he said.

Sparks took a deep breath. “We could get a couple of runners on this side of things to spread them out a bit,” she added. “The thinner the line coming across the ditch, the longer it’s going to hold out.”

“Still didn’t answer my question,” Rogers pointed out.

Leon scratched the back of his head nervously. “Spit balling here, maybe thirty minutes… maybe ninety minutes?” he said. “Just going to depend on how many start stacking up and pushing through.”

“Although, if you have a better idea, you’re more than welcome to put it forward,” Sparks suggested.

Rogers shrugged, raising his hands. “What about setting the pit on fire?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Sure, if you want to bring more of those things off of the interstate,” she countered.

“The horde isn’t getting here until dark tomorrow,” Leon added. “Those things love bright lights. We set a fire that size, and they’ll be all over us.”

Sparks nodded, taking back the conversation. “Which is why we have to wait to detonate the humdinger,” she explained. “If we set it off too early, we run the risk of pulling a lot more of them off of the interstate.”

“They’re just going to wander out into the desert,” Rogers finally cut in, “so not sure what the big deal is.”

Leon shook his head. “I don’t know about you, but I would sleep a lot sounder knowing there weren't fifty thousand zombies wandering around to the north that could easily come our way if one of them got turned around,” he drawled.

Rogers sighed and gave a begrudging nod. “Valid point,” he said.

“Come on,” Leon continued, “got something else to show you.”

He led them to the bridge, and they climbed over the barricade. They moved up to the command center, and he skirted it into the parking lot out back. 

There stood half a dozen cars, parked in groups of two side by side. Leon pointed to multiple strands of thick barbed wire running from the hood of one vehicle and connecting to the back of the next one. Metal posts stuck out of the vehicles that the wire was attached to.

“This…” Rogers said, eyebrows rising, “looks interesting.”

“Once it’s time, we’re going to move them up to the road leading to town,” Leon explained. “We figure if we stretch this out across the road, it’ll take some of them out as they push through it.”

The Detective nodded thoughtfully. “Anything that buys us time, right?”

“Now you’re getting it,” Sparks commended with a smile.

“Every minute counts,” Leon added.

Rogers took a deep breath, linking his fingers behind his head and stretching his back. “So, any idea how long it’s going to take the horde to pass us by on the interstate?” he asked.

“Anywhere from three to four hours,” Leon replied, tilting his hand back and forth.

The Detective let out a low whistle, this time a genuine holy shit sound, shaking his head. “That’s a long-ass time to be under siege,” he said dryly. “Let’s hope this stuff holds them up.”

“And if things get too hairy, we can just set Jeff loose with a sledgehammer and let him have a good time,” Sparks cut in.

Rogers couldn’t help but laugh. “Good to have backup plans, I suppose,” he said.

“If it gets to that point,” Leon said, “then we’re all going to be hacking away at these things.”

Rogers nodded. “Sounds like regardless of what happens, we’re going to have a hell of a day tomorrow,” he said, clucking his tongue. “So, what do you say we all get together for a sitdown dinner this evening?”

“As long as it’s not at your place, I’m in,” Sparks replied, raising her hand.

Leon burst out laughing. “Thank you,” he said, shaking his head. “I didn’t want to be the one to say it.”

Rogers chuckled. “Yeah I know, my place does need to air out a bit,” he agreed, waving them off. “You set it up and just let me know where.”

Sparks shook her empty paper cup. “I need a refill,” she declared. “I’ll ask Ethel and let you know.” She gave them a wave and sauntered off to the front of the building, leaving the two men alone in the parking lot.

Rogers approached one of the cars, flicking one of the metal pipes sticking up from the hood to create a nice ping noise. “Gotta say,” he drawled, “I never pegged you as the MacGyver type.”

“I’d love to take credit for that,” Leon admitted, “but this is all Rufus.” He waved his hand with a flourish at the modded line of cars.

The Detective smirked. “Never underestimate redneck ingenuity.”

“Especially in the apocalypse,” his friend agreed. “I mean, you know you’re in good hands with a man like that when he has all the skill set he does and still has all his fingers.”

Both men burst out laughing, Rogers pretending to wipe tears from his eyes. “All kidding aside,” he said as he finally caught his breath, “I am kind of sad we’re not going to see that humdinger go up. Never seen a bus being exploded from a thousand gallons of fuel and explosives.”

Leon put a nonchalant hand on his hip. “Oh, I may have found some video cameras when doing inventory,” he said innocently. “Borrowed the solar charger to get the batteries good to go. We’re getting that shit from multiple angles.”

The Detective let out a whoop and extended his fist for a bump. Leon obliged him, and they shared a chuckle. Shaking their heads, they leaned back against the hood of the car, falling into a comfortable silence despite the thoughts of the battle to come racing through their heads.

Chapter Six

Night fell as the three soldiers sat in the living room of Marcela’s house. Hammond stared at a blueprint of the target building where Mathis was being held. 

Landry and Whitaker were on opposite sides of the room, tossing a padded football back and forth.

“Sarge, how long are you going to keep staring at that thing?” Landry asked as he fired the ball at his partner.

Hammond didn’t look up from the paper. “Until I’m sure we have the best course of action,” he muttered.

“Sarge, we have the plan down pat,” Whitaker said with a sigh as she shot the football, aiming for her companion’s face. “Landry is going to cover the front entrance, while the two of us go in through the back and wipe every last one of those motherfuckers off the face of the earth. Anybody tries to escape, and Landry takes them down.”

The Private in question caught the ball before it smooshed into his nose and then tossed it back and forth between his hands before shaking his head. “Only thing I don’t like about the plan, is that I’m probably not going to get to kill too many of those torturing assholes.”

“Just concerned about the side of the building,” Hammond said in a monotonous tone. “If one person gets away, we lose our shot at Tiago.”

“Sarge, I know you’re concerned,” Landry said with a sigh, lowering his hands and turning towards the coffee table. “But there’s only three of us, so we have to go with the best odds.”

Whitaker nodded, crossing her arms. “As much as I’m loath to admit it,” she added, “Landry is right.”

He smirked. “That hurt you, didn’t it?” he teased.

“More than you know,” she drawled, and then raised her hand with lightning-fast speed as he whizzed the ball back at her with a chuckle.

She caught it easily and fired it back. “One person going into that building alone isn’t going to stand much of a chance,” she continued. “Hell, two of us going in is going to be a tall order, especially since we don’t know how many guards are in there.”

“And I’ll make sure to take up position, so I can see the sides of the building,” Landry assured the Sergeant. “Anybody sneaks out a window, and they’re getting pegged.”

Whitaker nodded firmly. “We’re going to make this happen, Hammond,” she said.

The Sergeant stared at the map for another few moments before finally shoving it away. As he sat back on the couch, Whitaker tossed the football to him. He caught it and stared at it for a moment, tossing it up in the air to himself before throwing it to Landry.

“I swear,” he said with a sigh,” the worst part about all of this is the waiting. I just want to get in there and get it over with.”

Landry smirked. “Hey Whitaker,” he drawled as he faked a throw, “didn’t the last guy you pick up at a bar say the same thing about you?”

“Could ask you the exact same question,” she shot back, and the Private whipped the ball at her with such force she pretended that it hurt when she caught it.

Hammond finally cracked a smile at their banter. Before they could continue, however, the garage door opened. The trio perked up, all at attention and ready to grab their guns at a moment’s notice.

They all relaxed when they saw it was Marcela, the lady of the house. She paused in the doorway, brow furrowing.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Sorry, force of habit,” Landry replied as they all sank back into their seats.

Marcela waved them off. “No need to apologize,” she assured them. “I’ve spent years living with the Cartel, so I am the same way.”

“Speaking of the Cartel,” Hammond said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, “did any of your contacts come through?”

She snapped her fingers. “Several, as a matter of fact,” she replied. “One of them provided me with a device I think will be of much use to you tomorrow.”

“What you got?” Whitaker asked, leaning forward.

“For lack of a better term, I have a signal jammer,” Marcela replied. “So when you go in to rescue your friend, you can make sure they can’t call for backup.”

Landry raised his palms high above his head. “I think I’m okay with sacrificing my kill streak if it means we don’t get overwhelmed with reinforcements,” he declared.

“Thank you Landry for your self sacrifice,” Whitaker deadpanned. “Truly noble of you.” She gave a few sarcastic claps, and Landry shot her a wolfish grin.

“Just doing my part,” he said brightly.

“Thank you, Marcela,” Hammond said sincerely. “That will be extremely valuable. Anything else?”

She smiled before setting down the bag she’d been carrying and rummaging around inside. She pulled out a map and spread it out on the counter.

The soldiers, intrigued, got up from their seats and joined her at the island, gathering around to look at a crudely drawn bridge.

“Alright, what are we looking at?” Hammond asked slowly.

Marcela pointed to the picture. “This is where Tiago Rivas is going to hold his viewing party,” she said.

There was a huge circle on the map, with the interstate cutting through the center and running under the bridge. To the north there were two building markers, one with an x and one with an o on it. On the south side was a taller building marker with an exclamation point.

“I’m guessing those notes mean something?” Hammond prompted.

Marcela nodded. “Yes, Rodriguez had your friend Leon take a look at the site on his satellite to get his take on the situation,” she explained. “These markings indicate where he thinks the most likely ambush points are.”

The trio of soldiers looked at the map for a time, and then eventually nodded in agreement, sharing glances.

“Leon probably has a better idea of what these buildings actually look like,” Whitaker said, “as well as the road and visibility conditions.”

Landry nodded thoughtfully. “Even so,” he replied, “just looking at their locations, this would be my thought as well.”

“That north side building is probably ripe for an ambush spot,” Whitaker continued, tapping the spot with her fingernail. 

“Why not just flank us, though?” Landry wondered.

Marcela leaned forward. “Crossfire would be my assumption,” she suggested. “This bridge doesn’t have a ramp to the interstate. So it will be very difficult to take up firing positions on it if you have men firing back at you.”

Landry nodded. “Makes sense,” he agreed.

“What is this exclamation point?” Hammond asked.

“Ah, yes, this is a four-story building, tallest one in the area,” Marcela explained. “Based on what he sees on the satellite imagery, this is going to be the spot to place your sniper. Assuming of course that he is in good enough condition to shoot.”

Landry bristled, and Hammond immediately put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

Marcela raised her palms. “And please understand, I meant no insult regarding your man,” she said quickly. “I’m sure he is resilient, however, I know the men working on him are just as determined to do their jobs. I also say it because we have to plan for the possibility that he will be unable to be an effective shooter. This is a war, and if we don’t execute this plan properly, none of us will see the next day.”

Landry let out a deep whoosh of breath, and nodded, leaning back over the map. “So Sarge, what are you thinking?” he asked.

Hammond studied the map for a moment before glancing at Marcela. “Any idea what the ambush party is going to consist of?” he asked.

She shook her head. “In this situation, no,” she replied. “I can only speak of prior situations.”

“This has happened before?” Whitaker asked, raising an eyebrow.

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” the hostess admitted. “I will spare you the details, however, Tiago presented himself as bait to take down a vicious rival. He had twenty men waiting to protect him, as well as two snipers.”

“Oh, is that all?” Landry asked in a high-pitched voice. “For a minute there I thought this was going to be difficult!” He threw up his hands.

“We’ve faced longer odds,” Whitaker said.

Landry stared at her, unblinking, and she wrinkled her nose.

“Not often,” she amended, “but we have.”

“Do you know what their tactics are?” Hammond asked.

Marcela shook her head. “Only indirectly,” she admitted. “My husband was a part of the ambush team. He told me some of the battle, and while it would not surprise me to learn he embellished his role in it, I believe the tactics were real.”

The trio stiffened at the mention of a husband, glancing nervously between them.

“Marcela,” Hammond asked slowly, “is us launching an attack on the ambush team going to be an issue?”

She furrowed her brow in confusion until she realized what he was implying and waved a hand at him. “Oh, my husband, no, no,” she assured them. “He died last year, so you won’t have to worry about facing him.”

The group relaxed, and Hammond reached out and rested a hand over hers.

“My apologies,” he said. “And condolences.”

“It is okay,” she replied, patting his hand once before extracting her own and leaning back over the map. “Now, back to our task.”

“Of course,” the Sergeant said.

“On that day, they launched a blitz attack from a single location,” Marcela continued. “Storming out in groups of four and creating a massive firing line. With the battlefield set up in the way that it is, they will most likely attempt to do it again.”

Landry cocked his head. “Wouldn’t Tiago get caught in the fire that way?”

“He will have his two bodyguards with him,” she explained, shaking her head, “and they will have him pinned on the ground underneath them at the first sign of trouble.”

“If they get that firing line out, we’re not going to be able to deal with it,” Whitaker cut in, “Mathis or no Mathis.”

“Agreed,” Hammond said with a heavy sigh. “Which means, we’re going to have to boil the egg before it hatches.”

Landry scratched the back of his head. “That’s going to be a tall order, Sarge,” he said. “First sign of fire, and they’re going to book it out of there.”

“Just means one of us will have to keep Tiago’s attention,” the Sergeant said.

Whitaker blinked at him. “What are you going to do?” she asked. “Just walk up to him and say ‘howdy’?”

“In a manner of speaking, yeah,” Hammond replied with a nod. “With Mathis, we can take down the snipers, and I’ll have cover.”

The Privates exchanged a glance and then nodded in agreement. It was a solid plan.

“Forgive me if I get this saying wrong,” Marcela cut in, “but I believe you Americans say ‘You have quite the balls on you’.”

The trio of soldiers laughed, shaking their heads.

“That is close enough,” Hammond finally said, offering her a smile. “And yes, it would appear as though I do.”

Whitaker took a deep breath. Back on task. “Do we have any explosives?” she asked.

Marcela thought for a moment, and then finally shook her head. “Unfortunately, no, we do not,” she replied. “They are in extremely limited supply, and there is a close eye kept on them.”

Whitaker turned to Landry. “Think molotovs will work?” she asked.

“You want to set the building we’re running into on fire?” he asked, gaping at her.

Whitaker shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” she said.

“Dammit,” Landry said with a defeated sigh, “I’m going to lose my eyebrows again, aren’t I?”

“Look at it like this,” she replied, “there ain’t a woman within a hundred miles that you have a shot with anyway. So, it’s not like it’s going to hurt anything.”

“Goddamn it,” Landry huffed. “Fine, molotovs it is.” 

Whitaker smirked and then turned back to Marcela. “Can you get us glass bottles and something flammable?” she asked.

“You will have it first thing in the morning,” the hostess promised.

“Okay, we have our plan,” Hammond said. “Everybody take five, then meet in the living room to start going over breach plans for the ambush team.”

Landry raised his hands. “We’re just going to make up plans, Sarge?”

“Yep, every layout type we can think of, we’re going to have a plan for,” the Sergeant replied with a sharp nod.

Whitaker raised an eyebrow. “What else do you have to do, Landry?” she drawled.

He shrugged. “Take one last longing look at my luxurious eyebrows before you burn them off?” he suggested.

Hammond rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Fine, take ten, then we get started.”

The group shared a much-needed laugh and broke from the kitchen to take a breather before getting back to work.

Despite the seriousness of the task at hand, they fared well in good spirits, looking forward to getting Mathis back, and finishing what they started with Tiago Rivas.

END

PART 6

BY DEREK SLATON

© 2021

Chapter One

Leon sat at the satellite computer, staring intently at a zoomed-out view of Fabens. The town was on the far left side of the screen, with the interstate running through the middle stretching to the right. About three-quarters of the way across was a dark black line that slowly moved towards them.

“Not going to be long now, is it?” Ethel asked from behind him.

Leon looked up at her, and she handed him a fresh mug of steaming coffee. He gently shook his head. 

The line on the screen was the zombie horde, and it marched towards them with nothing else they could do to slow it down. Everything that they had thrown at the walking corpses did virtually nothing to them, outside of thinning the numbers a little bit.

Not that facing 950,000 instead of a million really changed much in the grand scheme of things.

“Don’t worry Ethel, we’re going to be okay,” he murmured.

She let out a laugh, shaking her head, and he wrinkled his nose, looking back up at her.

“Not buying it?” he asked.

She wagged a finger at him. “With that level of conviction, you couldn’t sell a firehose spouting out water to someone whose home is on fire,” she quipped.

“Ouch,” he said, wincing playfully.

She winked at him. “Truth hurts, big boy,” she said, and patted his shoulder.

He smiled and then turned back to the screen before the satellite went out of range. He did some quick measurements and math before tossing his pen down with a grunt, letting out a long, frustrated sigh.

“Drink your coffee,” Ethel quipped from across the room. “It’ll help.”

He scrubbed his hands down his face. “You’re too good for me, Ethel,” he called back.

“I know,” she replied with another wink. “But you’re my sympathy project, so I power through it.”

He chuckled, and followed her instructions, lifting the mug to his lips and taking a long sip. He zoomed in tightly on the horde, watching the front edge of it move across his screen in their direction. He drank and watched, drank and watched, until the satellite moved out of range and flickered off.

Leon stared at the blank screen, the reality of what was coming to knock on their doorstep a little too much to bear.

His momentary hypnosis was broken when the door to the command center opened. Trenton, Clara, and Sparks entered, pausing when he startled visibly, swiveling his chair around to face them.

“You alright there?” Trenton asked gently.

“Huh?” Leon replied dumbly, and then shook his head. “Yeah, sorry, just deep in thought.”

Sparks looked past him at the screen reading SATELLITE IS OUT OF RANGE. “I’m assuming that the horde didn’t spontaneously turn around?” she asked dryly.

“Nah, our luck isn’t quite that good,” he replied with a dark laugh.

Ethel walked over with a tray of mugs, and everyone nodded appreciatively as they took their own hot cup.

“Would anybody else be surprised if Ethel had a fresh pot of coffee for that horde when it gets here?” Clara joked before she took a slurp of her brew.

Trenton barked a laugh. “Probably the reason they’re headed this way,” he suggested. “It always smells so good, they just can’t resist it.”

Sparks took a step towards Leon, face sobering. “How much time do we have?” she asked.

“Maybe six hours,” he replied. “They should be here just after sundown.”

“That gives us time to finish up some last minute defenses on the eastern perimeter of town,” Clara piped up.

Leon nodded, swiveling to face her as he took a sip of his coffee. “How are they coming?” he asked.

“We have a line of vehicles stretching out over the better part of a mile along the interstate,” she explained, motioning with her hand. “We’re putting in some ditches to trip them up. It’s nothing major, but it should be able to handle a few stragglers.”

“We also have a car blockade on the interstate ramps,” Trenton added. “But it’s probably not going to do much good. Seems like whenever those things see a road, they wander up it until the mass behind them gives a good enough push to keep them going forward.”

“How good are the exit barricades?” Leon asked.

Trenton tilted his head back and forth. “We have the cars triple stacked, so it should do okay with stopping the front waves,” he replied, “but with that kind of force behind them, it won’t take long to push through them.”

“I mean, it is what it is,” Leon replied with a shrug. “Anything that can slow them down is helpful, but honestly I think we’ve done everything we can do.”

“Well, we still have six hours,” Clara replied, nodding sharply. “Surely we can do a bit more.”

“We are,” Sparks cut in. “Everybody in town that isn’t digging ditches is making more spikes for the drainage ditch. It’s taken a while for that wall of spikes to come together, but it’s looking quite formidable.”

Leon nodded and checked his watch. “Okay, we’ll give that about two more hours before we start moving people to the school,” he instructed. “If they aren’t very mobile, go ahead and get them up to the second floor. Last thing we want is to have to carry people up the stairs while fighting those things.”

“We’ve managed to pull together ten radios that still have enough of a charge to be useful,” Sparks continued. “We just need to figure out where to put them.”

Leon set his empty mug on the desk. “One in every safe house and the school, to be sure,” he said.

“I’m not going to be on com unless there is a major problem,” Sparks admitted, “but I’m going to need one at the humdinger.”

Trenton raised a hand. “The interstate scout should have one too,” he said. “We’re going to need to know when the horde has passed.”

“Or if we’re attracting more company than we anticipated,” Clara added.

Trenton let out a deep whoosh of breath. “Gotta love that optimism,” he muttered.

“Pretty sure that went out the window a month or so ago,” she replied with a shrug.

As if on cue, the air horn went off from the interstate watch signaling approaching vehicles.

Leon got to his feet. “I was just beginning to wonder if Rodriguez was going to show up today,” he said.

Everyone moved outside, standing in the parking lot of the command center, sipping their coffees as three vehicles pulled up. As soon as they stopped, Rodriguez leapt out of the lead SUV.

“Did anybody see where Angel’s vehicle went?!” he bellowed immediately as the others poured out. “Where the hell is he?”

Javier approached from the rear vehicle. “Sir, he went to the north when we came off of the interstate,” he called. “I don’t know why he would, though.”

“Go and get him now,” Rodriguez demanded.

Javier’s brow furrowed, and he chewed his lip nervously. “Sir…” he trailed off, swallowing hard. “I don’t think that—”

“Your thoughts are irrelevant,” Rodriguez cut in firmly. “Do as you are told or you are going to know what my thoughts are, and I promise that you will not enjoy it.”

Javier nodded jerkily, turning tail and scurrying back to his SUV. Within seconds he turned around and peeled off towards the north.

“Good to see you, Rodriguez,” Leon declared with a little wave. “Thank you for coming.”

The Cartel member turned and sighed, offering a thin smile. “My apologies for being late,” he said. “Tiago wasn’t pleased about me wanting to come out today, but I managed to convince him.”

“Doesn’t seem like Angel is too happy about being out here, either,” Leon mused.

“Well, I remembered you saying you wanted him to set up one of the houses for detonation,” Rodriguez explained. “Knowing he could destroy part of this town got him motivated.”

Leon played along, sensing that the Cartel member was up to something, since it would serve no purpose to cause an explosion in town. He nodded approvingly.

“Well, when he gets here, you can take him to the hospital on the edge of town,” he said. “There is a house a couple of blocks down from it that will be perfect. It’s alone on the corner with bright blue shutters. Can’t miss it.”

Before Rodriguez could respond, two SUVs came screaming towards them, pulling up to the rear of the lot.

Angel Rivas strutted up to them, sneering. “All right, where is this house that needs destroying?” he demanded. “I don’t want to be here any longer than I need to.”

“Get your gear and we’ll start walking to it,” Rodriguez replied.

Angel snapped his fingers, and one of his lackeys ran back to the vehicle. He returned a moment later with two large heavy canvas bags, struggling to move under the weight of them.

“Lead on,” the younger Rivas said.

“Leon will give you your assignments,” Rodriguez barked to the other men. “Do whatever they need done. Meet back here in four hours. If Angel and I aren’t back from the house yet, you are to head out without us. Understood?”

The Cartel members nodded, turning towards Leon with a modicum of politeness.

The man in question nodded to Rodriguez. “Appreciate that,” he said. “Horde should be here in six, so that gives you guys a big enough window to get out.”

“One thing before I go,” Rodriguez said, raising a finger. “Do you have any food?”

“We have some lunch being cooked up as we speak,” Leon replied with a smile. “I’ll send someone your way in, say, thirty minutes, with some goodies.”

Rodriguez nodded. “That will be fine, thank you,” he replied, and headed off towards the south end of town, with Angel and his lackey shambling after them.

Leon waved Sparks over and leaned close. “Would you mind taking our guests some appropriate treats?” he asked softly.

She nodded. “I have just the thing,” she replied, and walked away, leaving Leon to turn to the Cartel members standing there awaiting instructions. 

“Okay, I need two groups,” he said loudly. “One is going to follow Clara to start digging trenches. The rest of you will be with Trenton here making defensive stakes. Pick what you want to do, and we’ll get it going.”

The men looked around at each other, muttering back and forth before breaking into two groups.

Leon turned to Trenton and Clara, keeping his voice low as the men organized themselves. “Keep them occupied and don’t let anyone leave,” he murmured.

The duo nodded sharply and broke off to take control of their groups.

* * *

Meanwhile, Sparks made her way towards the house by the hospital after making a pit stop at her own residence. She slung a small black canvas bag over her shoulder and looked around as she strolled.

There was nobody around for blocks. Everyone in town was either being moved to the school or working furiously on the town defenses. She reached the door she needed and knocked.

“Come in,” somebody called from inside.

As she entered, she spotted Angel in the living room, rigging explosives on the wall. Rodriguez stood in the kitchen with the other Cartel member, both men awaiting instructions from the younger Rivas since he was the one who knew what he was doing.

Angel leaned back and glanced at the door, shooting Sparks a smirk. “It’s about time, I’m starving,” he drawled, and tossed down his screwdriver, sauntering towards her like a lion on the prowl. “Oh, you’re the feisty one,” he purred when he reached her. “Taming you is going to be a challenge, but quite the fun one.”

Sparks raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, and then rolled her eyes.

Angel snarled, drawing his knife and flipping it around a few times before holding it up to her face. “You keep that up and I’ll make you real pretty,” he growled. “Like your friend here in town, only I’ll make sure everyone can see it so they know you’re mine.”

She held his gaze, asking simply, “Rodriguez?”

Angel burst out laughing. “Oh, I thought you were a tough one,” he teased, sneering. “Now you’re asking a big ole man to protect you? I bet that just eats you up inside knowing you can’t do anything to me without risking this town.” He glanced at Rodriguez. “So what do you say? Huh? You going to tell me to back off?”

Rodriguez stared straight into Angel’s eyes, gaze intense. “Sparks,” he said. “Do it.”

Angel’s face whipped back to face the redhead, finding her smiling. Without hesitation, Sparks struck him in the throat, sending him staggering backwards. He tried to swing his knife, but she caught his wrist and snapped it like a twig.

His knife clattered to the floor as he gasped for air, face contorted as if he’d be screaming in pain if he could.

In the kitchen, Angel’s lackey’s eyes widened at the attack on his boss. He took a step forward to join the fight, but Rodriguez stabbed him in the throat, a simple backhanded jab from the side.

The lackey fell to the ground, surprise in his eyes at the betrayal, holding onto the wound in a failing attempt to stop the blood from spurting out. His strength faded quickly as he went limp, blood pooling beneath him.

Angel regained his footing a bit, using his good arm to throw a punch towards Sparks. She ducked back to avoid it before lunging forward, delivering a knee strike to his chest, sending him tumbling backwards into the wall. He hit it with such force that his shoulders caved in part of the drywall.

As he clutched his chest, still struggling for breath from the chest strike, Rodriguez walked in, standing beside sparks. The two of them looked down at the fallen man whimpering on the floor.

“My father is going to kill you both,” he whined. “Not just kill, but torture. You are going to be begging for death for weeks before he grants it to you! And I’m going to be there for it, all of it!”

Sparks glanced at Rodriguez. “You have something to shut him up with?” she asked.

The taller man smirked and reached into his pocket, pulling out a hard plastic container. He popped it open to reveal a syringe filled with a cloudy liquid. 

“Don’t you dare!” Angel cried when he saw it, eyes wild as Rodriguez knelt beside him. “Don’t you dare put that in me, you son of a bi—”

He fell limp as Rodriguez jammed the needle into his leg, unconscious in a matter of seconds.

Sparks nodded in awe. “That’s some fast-acting stuff you have there,” she said.

“It’s a proprietary blend I’ve perfected over the years,” Rodriguez replied, tossing the syringe aside. “Knocks them out quick, but doesn’t last terribly long. Of course, by the time they wake up, they’re restrained, so it doesn’t matter.”

She smirked. “Speaking of,” she said, “I can help with that.” She reached into her bag, pulling out a variety of BDSM gear. Handcuffs, ankle and wrist restraints, and a bright pink ball gag. 

Rodriguez took a pair of the cuffs, donned with neon fur. “Do I even want to know why you have this?” he asked dryly.

“Apparently whoever owned the house I’m staying in was a bit of a freak in the sheets,” she said with a shrug. “So I borrowed some of their gear.”

Rodriguez shook his head. “Well, they have good taste in colors,” he said, examining the many shades of pink. “He is going to be really pissed off when he comes to.”

“He’s going to be even more pissed off when he sees Rogers coming in,” Sparks added.

“My only regret is that I’m not going to be here to see it,” Rodriguez replied with a sigh.

The redhead cocked her head. “While I don’t know Rogers that well,” she admitted, “I get the sense he will gladly tell you all about it every chance he gets until the end of time.”

Rodriguez smiled. “Going to be some fun dinner conversations if we pull this off,” he said, and they began to bind Angel in his new, bright pink fate.

Chapter Two

The sun set over the town of Fabens, and Leon stood in front of the satellite monitor. Sparks, Rufus, Trenton, Clara, and Jeff stood around him in a semicircle, armed to the teeth and ready for battle. 

The radio crackled to life on the table, and they all looked towards it. The interstate watch came through in a very convincing faux traffic reporter voice.

“This is your eye in the sky reporting from high atop the abandoned gas station overlooking Interstate Ten,” they declared. “Do you copy?”

The group shared a much-needed laugh, breaking the tension.

Leon picked up the radio, still smiling. “Yeah, we’re here, man,” he replied. “What you got?”

“The horde is in sight,” the watchman said.

The brief moment of levity vanished, leaving the mood in the room somber once again. Even the hardened warriors had knots growing in the pits of their stomachs. Despite being through so much in their lives, it was unspoken that this would be their biggest challenge yet.

“How soon?” Leon asked into the radio.

“Forty-five minutes at the most,” the watchman replied.

“Understood,” Leon said. “Stay out of sight, and good luck.”

“Ten-four,” came the reply, and then the line went dead.

Leon pocketed the walkie-talkie before reaching to the shelf above his desk, pulling down the giant military-grade sniper rifle from it. “Okay, you all know your assignments,” he said, turning around as he cradled the gun. “Stick to the plan, watch each other's backs, and we’ll get through this.”

Everyone stared at him, blinking at the strain in his voice.

He shook his head and cracked a smile. “Not buying it, huh?” he asked, flashing back to Ethel.

“Hey, it’s not your fault we know what we’re up against,” Rufus drawled.

“This is true,” Leon admitted. “In that case, allow me to be a little more realistic. Go fuck some shit up and take as many of these fuckers down with you.”

The old man raised a fist. “There you go, I can get behind that,” he declared.

More laughter rippled through the group, though it was clear it was forced in to try to push out the fear.

“So girl,” Rufus said, turning to Sparks. “You ready to go?”

She furrowed her brow. “Go where?” she asked.

“You don’t honestly think I’m going to let you go set off that humdinger without me, are you?” he drawled.

She immediately shook her head. “It’s going to be a hell of a run, since we have to wait on those things to show up,” she insisted.

“And it’s going to be made a hell of a lot easier with me watching your back,” he countered. “Now, if you wanna keep arguing about me coming along, you can do it while we drive up there.”

Sparks took a deep breath, but couldn’t stop herself from smiling. She reached out and gave his bicep a reassuring squeeze. She led the group towards the door.

“Clara, hang back a minute,” Leon called, and she paused, turning back to him as everyone else filed out.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“There’s something I wanted to tell you,” he said. “I’ve given your assignment to someone else.”

She blinked at him, shaking her head. “What?” she demanded. “Why?”

“Because you need to go meet up with Rogers,” Leon explained. “He’s at the house with the blue shutters near the hospital.”

Clara eyed him suspiciously. “Okay, what’s going on?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“Rodriguez decided to make a power move to take over the Rivas Cartel,” he replied. “So, Rogers is currently babysitting Angel.”

Clara’s eyes blazed. She didn’t say anything, simply turning around and bolting out the door. He’d better not have killed him yet, she thought as she tore towards the hospital.

* * *

As the town got into position, Rufus and Sparks stopped their truck on the bridge leading to the north. The sun had almost completely vanished on the horizon, but there was just enough light for them to be able to see the horde marching towards them.

They sat there, mesmerized by the moving mass.

“Not that I’m going to live to be a hundred,” Rufus finally said, “but if I did, I doubt I’ll ever see anything that terrifying again in my life.”

Sparks smirked. “Don’t be so sure,” she replied. “There’s always the possibility you could see me get truly pissed off at someone.”

Rufus chuckled. “This is true,” he admitted. “I saw what you did to that prick Elijah.”

“Seems like a lifetime ago when that happened,” she said with a sigh.

“Well, better not be, because we still have a lot of living left to do,” he said, taking her hand in his.

She smiled softly at him. “Look at you, getting all upbeat,” she said.

“Not upbeat,” he replied, shaking his head, “just a war mentality. In my darkest days in the jungle, I would have to remind myself of that. I knew a lot of guys who thought it was all over and acted like it. Sad to say that most of them were right.”

“Well, we’re not gonna make that mistake, are we?” Sparks asked firmly.

He grinned at her. “Hell no, we’re not, girl,” he agreed.

“Come on, we should get set up,” she said, and put the truck in gear. “Gotta park this thing at the shelter and walk back to the humdinger.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled, and they turned to speed off to their destination.

* * *

Clara rushed towards the hospital, finding the house with the blue shutters, and tore up the front steps to the door. She tried the knob, but it was locked, so she banged on it with a closed fist instead.

After several minutes of pounding, the door opened, and Rogers sighed at the sight of her.

“Dammit, Leon,” he muttered.

“Oh, no,” Clara snapped, pointing a finger at him, “he did the right thing in telling me. Now, are you going to let me in?”

He hesitated for a moment and then stepped aside.

She stormed in like a hurricane, looking around wildly. “Where is that motherfucker?” Upon entering the living room, she stopped short, gasping at the sight before her.

Angel laid flat on his stomach, his wrists and ankles bound behind his back with fuzzy pink restraints in a hogtie. He sounded like he was spitting obscenities at her, but with the bubblegum-colored ball gag in his mouth, all that came out was muffled noise and drool.

Clara’s stunned silence broke as she burst into laughter, quickly moving from mirth to that of a supervillain.

“So yeah,” Rogers said as he stepped up beside her, scratching the back of his head. “I was still deciding on what to do with him.”

Clara stalked forward and kicked the bound Rivas in the face, cracking his nose beneath her boot and sending a stream of blood across the carpet.

“Well, I meant besides the obvious,” Rogers continued.

She turned to the Detective. “Why haven’t you killed him yet?” she asked.

“I wanted to make sure the Cartel had completely left,” he explained. “And I need a zombie to bite him, just on the off-chance one of them stumbles across his body. Gotta make it look like he died at their hands, not ours.”

Clara crossed her arms. “In your out-there hypothetical,” she said, “you think they’d do an autopsy?”

“I was going to make the bite on the face, so they’d see it quickly,” he replied, motioning to his own. “So probably not.”

“Good,” she said, her eyes set in a fierce intensity, and stalked into the kitchen. 

Silverware clanged together as she rummaged and then emerged moments later with an armful of blades. She dropped a pile of knives and a meat cleaver on the floor in front of Angel’s face, and then knelt down, grabbing his hair and jerking his head up so he could see her, inches from him.

“You should know that we have a couple of hours before the first zombie is going to reach us,” she said, voice level and menacing. “You should also know that I’ve spent every day since our first encounter thinking about what I would do if I had five minutes alone with you.” She pulled down the front of her shirt to show him his initial carved into her soft flesh. “Now, you see, my biggest dilemma in coming up with all of these ideas is that I couldn’t fit them all into the five-minute time frame.” She grinned, but there was no humor there, only malice. “Lucky for me, that didn’t prevent me from continuing to dream. Now my biggest dilemma is deciding on what to do first.” 

Angel thrashed, screaming into his gag until he was red in the face. 

Clara finally grasped his jaw, squeezing his cheeks and forcing him to look at her. “If you keep that up, I’m going to replace your ball gag with something off of you.” He stopped moving, and she ran her tongue over her teeth at the sight of tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “Good,” she cooed, “looks like you realize I’m not joking.”

She patted him on the cheek before letting loose with a firm slap, and then got to her feet, picking up one of the butcher knives. She paced back and forth in front of the bound and trembling man a few times and then paused when she spotted Rogers in her periphery. 

“I’m so sorry,” she blurted, turning towards him. “I let my hatred get the better of me. I know he killed your partner. So if there’s anything you’d like to do, please, just say the word.”

Rogers cocked his head. “I’m content just watching you for the moment,” he replied. “If I can assist in any way, I’m happy to do so.”

She contemplated for a moment before raising a finger. “Is there anything to drink?” she asked.

“Just some bottled water,” he replied.

“I’ll take one if you don’t mind,” she said sweetly. “It’s important to stay hydrated when exerting yourself.” With that, she knelt down and rolled Angel onto his side, slicing open his shirt with the knife.

Rogers smirked and walked into the kitchen, taking a deep breath of bliss as Angel whimpered beneath Clara’s ministrations.

Chapter Three

The interstate watch guard leaned back against the edge of the roof, pulling a dark hoodie over his head to conceal himself. He looked towards the interstate, watching as the moonlight reflected on the constantly moving horde. The light wasn’t quite bright enough for him to see the details in the rotten flesh eaters, but it was enough for him to see what they were doing.

The front edge of the horde walked right by the exit ramps, paying them no attention. For a brief moment the guard thought that maybe, just maybe, the town would be okay.

This train of thought screeched to a halt within a couple of minutes as several zombies took notice of the ramps on both sides of the highway and pressed against the cars.

There were two cars horizontally across each ramp, with a third bracing them from behind. At first, the handful of ghouls weren’t enough to move it, but that quickly changed when their agitated moans attracted dozens of others to their cause.

As the bulk of the horde continued marching down the interstate towards El Paso, the mini-hordes on either side of the road attempted their breakaway, pushing hard against the vehicles.

When their numbers swelled from the dozens to the hundreds, the tires on the vehicles began to screech. The sound, while faint, was still loud enough for the guard to hear. His heart sank quickly when she realized the town was really in for a long night.

He pulled out his walkie talkie and ducked down, keeping the volume as low as it would go. “The horde has arrived,” he murmured into the device. “They are pushing hard enough on the cars to get them to move. Everyone stand by.”

He sank low on the roof, staying completely out of sight, but also to stop himself from having to watch the proceedings below. The sound of the tires squealing on the pavement was more than enough doom and dread for him.

This went on for what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was only a few minutes. Finally, the tires went silent, prompting him to sit up and peer down. 

The zombies had pushed through the car barricades and slowly made their way up the ramp towards the town and to the north of town. 

“They are through the barricades,” he whispered into the radio. “The opening is not extreme, but there will be a steady stream of them for a while.” He took a deep breath. “Good luck, everyone.”

He laid down on his back, setting the radio on his chest to muffle whatever sound might come through it. He stared up at the night sky, so clear without all of the light pollution, and listened to the shuffling feet heading past his post.

* * *

Trenton, Leon, and Jeff stood in front of the command center, about half a mile from the ramp. They held metal pipes, and all had machetes strapped to their belts.

The moon, while nearly full, was still low on the horizon, which made for dim lighting conditions. Even with that, they could still make out movement coming down the road for them. The only thing standing in their way was three sets of barbed wire traps attached to cars that stretched out across the road.

With each passing moment, the ghouls grew closer, and the moon grew a little higher, fully showing what they were facing.

“That doesn’t look daunting at all,” Trenton breathed.

Jeff shrugged. “We’ve faced worse,” he replied.

“True, but it wasn’t on our doorstep,” Trenton countered.

The skinhead sighed. “Fair point.”

“Just remember, we don’t have to beat them all,” Leon said. “Just delay them long enough for the horde to pass.”

“Reminding me of my football days,” Trenton joked. “Get a small lead in the fourth quarter and run out the clock.”

Jeff rolled his eyes. “Sounds like you had a shitty coach,” he drawled. “My coach wanted to pound the hell out of the other team, regardless of how much time was left.”

“Well, we made state all three years I was on the team, and made it to the quarterfinals my senior year,” Trenton shot back. “So he must have been doing something right.”

Jeff sighed. “We never had that kind of success,” he admitted. “But we did beat our rivals fifty-six to three my senior year. Coach even called a timeout just before the game was over so we could kick another field goal. That was a fun night.”

“Well, if you wanted to beat the hell out of your opponent,” Leon said, “you’re going to have your fill tonight.” He motioned towards the zombie horde, which now numbered easily in the hundreds. 

They were spread out over the entirety of the street, approaching the first barbed wire trap. The group waited, watching as the front edge of the corpses pressed into the wire.

The light was just bright enough that the zombies could see the three men standing fifty yards away, which only intensified the moaning and thrashing. The weight behind them quickly grew, pushing their decrepit bodies through the jagged wire.

Several zombies fell in two pieces, torsos hitting the ground and other creatures stepping up to take their place. This was short-lived, however, as the barbed wire quickly snapped under the intense pressure of the horde. 

“Was hoping that would have lasted a bit longer,” Leon muttered.

Jeff grinned. “That’s what she said,” he declared.

“Really, man?” Leon asked, but he couldn’t help the smile on his face as Trenton snickered.

The skinhead shrugged. “Humor is my coping mechanism.”

The trio watched as the horde continued to grow and pushed towards the next line of barbed wire. This time, however, their weight and momentum were too much for the trap to have much of an impact. It held for a good thirty seconds before it gave way, leaving only the one line left.

“So much for round two lasting longer,” Jeff said with a sigh.

“As soon as they get through that third line,” Leon said, “we start backing up and moving to the west once we hit the ditch. Trenton, you cross first. Jeff, you’re next. Then the two of you come drag my old ass out of that ditch.”

Jeff cocked his head, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Seems like you might not have been the best volunteer for this job there, bud,” he joked.

“Nobody else available,” Leon replied with a shrug. “Gotta step up.”

The skinhead nodded as they turned their attention back to the line of zombies pushing through the final barricade. As soon as it snapped, they headed back towards the drainage ditch, about fifty yards away.

They kept pace with the zombies, not wanting to get too far ahead of them nor close the gap. The moon grew higher in the sky, making it easier for them to keep an eye on the battlefield.

The moving mass kept its attention locked on the trio, moaning and flailing with excitement as they gave chase.

“Fuck man,” Jeff grunted as he looked over his shoulder at the ghouls that stretched back as far as the eye could see. “There’s going to be thousands of these things.”

“Just means we have to spread them out further,” Leon replied. “Trenton, go.”

Trenton broke away from the group, jumping into the ditch. He rushed across to the other side, struggling to make it up the steep embankment. He was forced to grab onto some of the stakes in the ground to pull himself up and managed to do so without dislodging any of them.

He turned around and immediately started yelling towards the zombies, hoping to pull them away from the main pack. His screams were successful and a few dozen ghouls staggered away to follow him into the ditch.

The creatures were less than graceful, most of them stumbling and falling face first into the ground as they stepped off of the road. It didn’t take long for them to get back to their feet and continue their pursuit of the yelling man, but every second bought was a blessing.

The screaming continued as the ghouls worked their way towards him. Trenton watched as the first zombie made contact with a spike. It moved forward, its rheumy eyes locked on him, not even noticing the stake piercing its chest and pushing right through the rotten flesh. 

Within moments, the creature was fully impaled, but continued to try to move. The zombie behind it met the same fate, both of them stuck tight like a rotten kebab.

Trenton looked down as the scene replayed itself multiple times. The only exception was a ghoul that somehow managed to work its way in between some stakes and approached the top of the ditch. 

He took aim and brought his metal pipe down hard on the zombie’s head, cracking it wide open. He surveyed the entirety of the ditch, full of dozens of ghouls. Many spikes had two, three, or even four zombies impaled on a single one.

The pressure behind the creatures quickly built, and he could hear the creak of splintering wood.

“Dammit, this isn’t going to hold very long,” he muttered, and took off down the side of the ditch towards where Jeff was pulling himself up. The two of them started yelling to continue to pull zombies off of the line still pursuing Leon.

“You good!” Trenton asked.

Jeff nodded. “Peachy,” he replied brightly.

They looked back towards the main road at the corpses stretching all the way back to the bridge. There were a significant number of them that hadn’t followed alongside the ditch, instead pressing up against the barricade over the bridge. 

The duo watched in horror as the structure started to move under the intense weight of the horde.

“Fuck,” Jeff breathed.

“Come on, we have to get Leon,” Trenton urged.

Both men took off, spotting their friend about thirty yards away in the ditch, struggling to climb up the other side. They slid to the edge and reached down to grab his hands as several ghouls fell into the ditch on the other side.

“Really should have left this up to you two,” Leon grunted as he clambered up beside them. 

The trio surveyed the ditch, full of hundreds of corpses, with hundreds more on the road stretching back as far as they could see.

“Looks like we did our job, though,” Leon added.

Jeff shook his head. “Not good enough,” he said.

“What?” Leon asked.

“There’s a whole mess of them back at the bridge and the barricade is already starting to move,” Trenton explained, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

Leon shook his head. “Christ,” he groaned. “This is going to come crashing down on us hard.”

They looked down the line at the sound of snapping wood. A handful of zombies managed to break free of the tracks and were pushing themselves up the other side with a little help from the ghouls behind them.

“Come on, we have to get to the safe houses,” Leon urged. “Lay low with your teams and stay on your radios. I’ll let you know when to move.”

The others nodded and the three of them took off running into town, heading in the directions of their safe houses.

* * *

Rogers sat by a cracked window, listening to the moans growing in volume from the far end of town. He glanced back at Clara, who was carving her friend’s name into Angel’s chest. His muffled screams sputtering around the ball gag wasn’t enough to block the chorus of the hungry zombies invading the town.

Clara put the last letter into Angel’s flesh before giving him a firm stab to put the dot over the i. “Not that you’ll ever have to look at it in the mirror,” she said with a sneer, “but I’ll sleep better knowing that you’re branded with her name, you motherfucker.”

He mumbled incoherent pleas around the gag, tears streaming down his face.

“Hey Clara, shut him up for a minute,” Rogers said from the window.

She glared daggers at the bound man, and he immediately stopped making noise. Once the cocky Cartel leader’s son, now withered to nothing but a weeping sack of flesh.

Rogers cupped a hand around his ear, emphasizing the sounds of the ghouls moaning from the other side of town. “You hear that, you son of a bitch?” he asked as he hopped down from the windowsill. “That’s your end making its way to you. Not going to be long before you’re a snack.”

Angel sobbed around the gag, pressing his forehead against the carpet as he wept. Clara stood up and headed towards the kitchen.

“We still have some time,” Rogers called after her. “You don’t have to stop.”

“Oh I know,” she said back over her shoulder. “I was just going to see if they had some lemon juice for his wounds.”

The Detective cracked a smile, nodding at her to continue. Deep down he knew that this wasn’t the healthiest thing for her to be doing, but who was he to tell her no? He was going to get his revenge for his partner’s death by feeding Angel to the dead.

Clara, however, was on a mission, not just for herself, not just for her friend, but for all the women Angel had tortured and killed over the years.

Rogers approached the window as she came back in and took his seat in the sill to listen to the moans getting closer. 

Clara held up a bottle of lemon concentrate, wiggling it in front of Angel’s wide, terrified eyes. As she unscrewed the cap and began to pour, this time her victim’s cries were enough to drown out the horde.

* * *

Sparks and Rufus sat inside the humdinger, in the back, in a padded area surrounded by insulated foam. They were side by side on the floor, legs stretched out with their backs against the door. It had been about fifteen minutes since the first zombie had passed by them, and they continued to go at a steady pace.

Despite the insulated padding, Rufus spoke in a low voice. “Sounds like lots of them sumbitches out there,” he murmured.

“Let’s just hope we got the bulk of them and not the town,” Sparks replied with a soft sigh.

The old man shook his head. “If they’re getting this size of a crowd, those defenses are going to be toast,” he mused.

“Just means your humdinger is going to have to work its magic,” she said, looking up at him with a smile.

“Hell, it’s given us this quiet moment together,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “I think it’s already working its magic.”

Sparks smiled and leaned against him, resting her cheek on his shoulder. Rufus had been with her every step of the way since the apocalypse had begun, and even now, he was still by her side.

The couple sat in silence together, listening as the horde grew and grew, walking by them outside the bus full of explosives.

Chapter Four

Hammond, Whitaker, and Landry snuck around the side of a building a couple of blocks away from the site where Mathis was being held. Hammond was in front, peering through his night vision assault rifle scope towards the target. 

The moonlight was quite bright, making the image a bit washed out. Even though the power was out in the area, there were several lights on in the building, the faint buzz of a generator in the air.

The front of the building was nondescript, with only a single guard standing outside in plain clothes. It was three stories tall and didn’t take up too much space on the lot. If someone just drove by, they would assume it was an employee standing outside for a smoke break.

“How’s it looking, Sarge?” Landry asked quietly.

The Sergeant took a deep breath. “One out front,” he replied, “but not seeing a whole lot of movement.”

“Makes sense,” Whitaker replied. “If they are using it as a holding cell, they wouldn’t want to draw attention to it.”

Hammond scanned the area a bit more, looking down the street on their side of things. He saw several buildings dotting the road, most of them office buildings.

“Okay Landry,” the Sergeant finally said, “I think if you work your way down the road behind us, you should be able to get a good position in one of the offices across from the target.”

“Pretty sure there are some houses on the next road,” Landry agreed. “If you give me a few extra minutes, I should be able to find a ladder and get onto the roof.”

Whitaker raised an eyebrow. “Why?” she asked. “There are trees everywhere, so it’s not like you’re going to get a great shot. Come on, bud, work smarter, not harder.”

“She’s right,” Hammond agreed. “Just get into one of the buildings and set up at the front.” He pulled a small bag from his shoulder and handed it over. “This is the signal jammer. Once you turn it on, we won’t be able to communicate. But as soon as we start firing, you take out anybody you see, I don’t care who they are.”

Whitaker inclined her head. “Start with that guard out front,” she suggested. “I get the sense we’re going to have enough gun toting assholes to deal with inside.”

“He’ll never know what hit him,” Landry promised.

“Just wait for our signal,” Hammond said.

The Private nodded sharply. “No problem, Sarge.” He extended his fist, receiving a bump from both soldiers, and then took off into the darkness.

“So how you want to play this, Sarge?” Whitaker asked.

He scanned the area around the building. There were bars on the side windows, and no other doors.

“Windows are barred shut,” he murmured. “We’re going to have to go around to the back.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And if the door is locked?” she asked.

Hammond simply smiled and pulled out a tiny pat of plastic explosive. “Then we’ll make a grand entrance.”

“That should definitely let them know we’re here,” she replied dryly.

“Which means we’re weapons hot as soon as we cross that threshold,” the Sergeant continued. “According to the blueprints that Marcela got us, there are three rooms on either side of the main hall, with the stairs being in the center on the left from our vantage point. There are large panes of glass on the first floor that go into the office, so we should be able to do some running and gunning to get to the stairs.” He looked through the scope again at the building, seeing that the room in the center of the top floor was illuminated while the second floor was completely dark. “That top floor room has got to be where they’re holding him. It’s the only one up there that’s lit up.”

“Could be holding him in darkness,” Whitaker countered.

“True,” he admitted, “but even if they are, I can guarantee the guards aren’t sitting around in the dark. If we kill everybody and he’s not there, it’ll make life easier.”

Whitaker smirked. “You had me at ‘kill everyone’,” she said.

Hammond chuckled, and they checked their assault rifles and sidearms, as well as their blades.

“I’m good,” Whitaker said.

He nodded. “Let’s do it, then.”

The duo made sure there wasn’t any movement on the street before darting across it, taking cover beside another building. They then moved to the back and started working their way up the next street, guns at the ready in case of a guard.

They worked their way up the corner of the street next to the target building, which had a wooden fence around the parking lot. When they reached the driveway, they peered around to find the back door.

Hammond peeked and then quickly ducked back behind cover when he spotted two guards standing out back having a cigarette. He made hand signals to Whitaker, letting her know that there were two guards, and he was going to take the one on the left.

She nodded in agreement, and they both got ready to move.

With practiced ease and quick grace, both soldiers came around the corner, guns raised, racing towards the two guards who didn’t even have guns in their hands. The moonlight gave the guards only a split second to react to the sight of the soldiers.

One instinctively put his hands in the air, while the other one dropped his cigarette and fumbled for his sidearm.

The soldiers were too quick, however, and Whitaker led with a straight kick, sending the fumbling guy back into the brick wall. When he hit the ground face first, she put her knee into the back of his neck and the barrel of her gun to his head.

“You move, you die,” she said, voice low and menacing. The pinned man nodded as much as he could with his range of movement to let her know he understood.

Hammond grabbed the other guard by the shirt and shoved him back, pressing him against the wall while aiming his gun at his crotch. “You move, you lose something valuable,” he warned. “Understand?”

The scared guard nodded furiously.

“Good,” Hammond commended. “How many inside?”

“T-ten,” the guard stammered. “Maybe more.”

The Sergeant shoved the gun against him, and the guard squeaked as the barrel crushed his jewels.

“Maybe?” Hammond warned.

“We’re not allowed in one room on the top floor!” the guard hissed. “That’s where they have the prisoner! I don’t know how many are in there!”

The Sergeant cocked his head. “Fair enough,” he replied. “You got a key for that door?”

The guard nodded and pointed at his belt where a keyring hung.

“Slowly,” Hammond warned.

As the man began to reach for the keys, Whitaker’s prisoner began babbling in Spanish.

“Whitaker,” Hammond said, and she immediately drew her knife and stabbed him in the throat. The Spanish was quickly reduced to gargling as he drowned in his own blood.

The Sergeant cocked his head at his own captive, whose eyes were wide with fear. “Your keys?” he asked.

“Please… please…” the guard begged as he unhooked the keys, holding them out. “I have a fam—”

Whitaker cut him off with her blade, and his body slid to the ground, life draining from his body before he went limp. Hammond bent down and grabbed the keys.

“Ready?” he asked.

Whitaker nodded and got into position by the door, gun raised and ready to throw down. He slipped the key into the lock and turned it, pausing as the mechanism clicked open. He did a silent countdown and then threw open the door so that she could rush inside.

The hallway that ran straight to the front door was dimly lit, with only a few camping lanterns in the windows of the offices providing light. As soon as she cleared the threshold, she spotted a guard sitting in a chair about ten yards away.

The man glanced up when the door opened, blinking boredly before realizing it wasn’t his friend. He leapt to his feet, scrambling to get his weapon aimed, but Whitaker was faster, firing a three-round burst into his chest.

The sound of the gunfire was deafening inside the hallway, alerting others in the building. One man immediately emerged from an office fifteen yards away, yelling at the noise. It appeared he’d thought it was a misfire, until he took in the soldiers, but it was too late, and Whitaker took him down quickly.

Her shots were a little more sporadic as he was further away, but two of the three bullets hit him in the face, blowing his head clean off.

Before Hammond could even get inside, a torrent of gunfire erupted from the office the fallen guard was in. Bullets ripped through the walls and where the glass was, forcing both soldiers to hit the ground.

The Sergeant stayed down on one knee, opening fire through the drywall into the office where the gunfire was coming from. “Whitaker, move!” he bellowed.

She crawled underneath his firing, and quickly scrambled to her feet, diving into the next office, kitty-corner from the one with the gunmen.

Once she was in position, Hammond stopped firing and crawled towards the next office on the right, which was just a few yards away. As he crawled, he looked up and spotted one of the gunmen coming out of the office ahead.

Whitaker didn’t hesitate, immediately opening fire and cutting the man down to size. Before he could even hit the ground, Whitaker was forced to duck back into the office for cover as several streams of bullets came her way through the drywall. She blindly returned fire for a moment to hold them at bay while Hammond got to his feet.

The Sergeant stayed low, rushing over to the far side of the office and looking through the glass into the next room where the gunmen were. There were two of them pinned up against the far wall, firing blindly towards Whitaker. One of them had a radio in his hand, but didn’t seem to be getting a response, grunting in frustration.

Hammond took aim and fired a few three-round bursts, shattering the glass and taking both men out. He stood his ground with his gun trained on them, to make sure they were dead.

“Clear!” he hollered.

Whitaker stood up and aimed down the hallway to the front door about thirty yards away as Hammond joined her.

A couple of guards came around the corner near the middle of the building from the left, about fifteen yards away. The soldiers opened fire while ducking for cover. The bullets peppered the wall, missing both of their attackers. Before they could fire again, one of the guards popped out and sent a constant stream of bullets in their direction while the other one sprinted down the hall towards the front door.

“We got a runner!” Hammond bellowed and popped out, firing at the gunman. He managed to strike the enemy in the chest, as Whitaker aimed at the runner, who was moving quickly towards the front door.

She pulled the trigger, sending three rounds downrange, missing with two of them. The third bullet hit his arm, sending him lurching forward towards the front door, his weight and momentum causing the door to open.

Before Whitaker could fire again, the man’s head exploded as a single shot ripped through it. Both soldiers remained tense for a moment, waiting for another shoe to drop, but none did.

“Good to see Landry is at the top of his game,” Whitaker said.

Hammond nodded. “We still have a lot to do, so let’s hope he keeps it up,” he said.

They worked their way down the hallway, still keeping their guard up. The hallway to the stairwell was about ten yards away, and Whitaker reached it first, quickly popping around the corner with her gun raised.

There was nothing there but the corpse that Hammond had created. She opened her mouth to declare it clear, but Hammond slammed into her back, the two of them lurching forward and tripping over the corpse.

As they hit the floor, gunshots rang out from the front of the building, several streams of bullets ripping the drywall to shreds.

“Motherfuckers were waiting on us,” the Sergeant growled.

“I’ll clear the stairwell!” Whitaker called and scrambled for the door to the stairs as Hammond fired back through the wall.

She threw it open and jumped inside, the concrete blocks providing better cover than the cheap building material of the office walls. Once inside, she fired towards the group in the office so that Hammond could get moving.

He paused, however, pulling out the small wad of plastic explosive and smacking it on the floor. He lit the short fuse on it before darting into the stairwell to join her.

“First landing, hold them off,” he said, and she hurried up the stairs, aiming upwards through her night vision scope in the pitch-black stairwell. 

The Sergeant took up position on the landing overlooking the door, steadying himself, aiming and waiting. In his mind, he continued a countdown from thirty, which was roughly how many seconds the fuse had. 

When he reached ten, he spotted the first gunman taking up position by the door and looking in. Hammond squeezed off a few shots, causing him to dart back behind the door frame.

Five… four… three… he silently counted and popped off a couple more shots as the countdown finished to keep the men in the hallway.

The explosion ripped through the lower level. Despite being only a small dab of plastic, it was quite powerful. The sound echoed loudly inside the stairwell, sending a collection of debris and body parts flying inside.

Smoke poured in, illuminated by the fire, but there was no noise outside of the crackling of burning drywall.

“That got ‘em,” Whitaker said.

Hammond nodded. “Let’s go get our man,” he said.

She led them up the stairs, gun trained upwards, waiting to strike down anyone who crossed her path. When they got to the top, they paused at the door. Hammond got in position to open it just like before. This time, however, when he pulled on the door, several bullets ripped through it, forcing him to fall back.

Whitaker managed to wedge her foot in between the door and the frame, quickly kicking it open, turning the corner and sending several three-round bursts down the hallway. There was some return fire, but it missed everything as the door started to close on its own.

Again, Whitaker used her foot to prop it open as the gunfire died down.

Hammond crawled on his stomach, pulling himself down the stairs so that only his head and gun laid flat on the landing. “Now!” he hissed.

She kicked the door open again, prompting gunfire from down the hall. They aimed high, however, expecting someone to be standing in front of it. Hammond used his brief window to aim with his night vision scope, seeing two men in a kneeling position halfway down the hall. 

With two quick trigger pulls, he put them both down. “We’re clear,” he said, getting to his feet.

The soldiers burst through the door and began moving towards the office where they believed Mathis was being held. On this floor, the offices were enclosed, with no windows, however there was a tiny bit of light coming from a crack in a door.

They knelt down beside it, trying to get a look through the crack, but they couldn’t see anything. Hammond did a silent countdown and then shoved the door open, and Whitaker darted inside.

The office was a mess, desks overturned, papers scattered, and blood everywhere. It looked like it had been a torture chamber for quite some time.

“Whitaker,” a familiar voice croaked, and she turned towards the corner, eyes widening. 

“Mathis!” she cried and rushed over to a large dog cage in the corner. She grabbed the padlock on the outside, but it wouldn’t budge. “Shield your eyes,” she instructed.

He complied, and she aimed her gun, firing a round through the lock, destroying it. She tossed it aside and opened the cage, allowing Mathis to crawl out. He seemed fairly weak, but at least strong enough to climb out of his own power.

She bent to help him up, but he waved her off.

“I’m good,” he said hoarsely, getting to his feet. He was a bit wobbly, and she caught him before he toppled right over.

The lighting was dim, but she could see numerous fresh wounds on his arms, neck, and face, and her blood boiled.

“Yeah, I know,” he muttered when he caught her surveying his damage, “I’m all kinds of pretty now. You can give me makeup tips later. Let’s get out of here.”

As they headed back to the door, a scream echoed from the darkness behind Hammond. He whipped around in time to face a skinny Cartel member rushing him with a scalpel in his hand. He stabbed down, catching the Sergeant in the arm.

Hammond didn’t flinch as the blade sliced through his flesh like butter, simply delivered an open-palm strike to the man’s nose, the crunch of his bones reverberating through the Sergeant’s hand. As his attacker stumbled backwards, Hammond looked around, snatching a claw hammer from the table next to him, flipping it around and slamming the prongs into the side of his enemy’s head.

The Cartel member twitched for several moments as blood poured from his nose, finally dropping to the floor.

“You good?” Whitaker asked.

“Yeah, I’m good,” the Sergeant replied, tossing the hammer aside. “Let’s get moving.”

Whitaker hauled Mathis along, and Hammond shook his head, staring intently at the sniper.

“You’re a tough son of a bitch, kid,” he declared.

“Learned it from you, sir,” Mathis croaked.

Hammond’s lip curled. “You good to do some more damage?” he asked.

“Do we have another shot?” the Private asked.

Hammond nodded sharply. “If you want it,” he replied.

Mathis gently pushed Whitaker away, standing on his own two feet. It was clear he was in pain and weak, but his adrenaline and the thought of finishing what he’d failed to last time seemed to give him the strength he needed to stand up straight.

“On your six, sir,” he declared.

Hammond nodded and led them out the door, headed back for the stairwell. When they reached it, smoke poured out of the doorway.

“This place is going to burn down if we don’t move it,” the Sergeant urged, and the trio raced down the stairs, getting to the bottom and peering out at the damage caused by the plastic explosive. There was a massive hole in the ground, and the walls around the blast were gone. A few corpses missing various body parts were strewn around, looking quite ragged.

“Pulling out all the stops to get me, huh?” Mathis asked.

Whitaker smirked. “You know Hammond, any excuse to throw down,” she quipped.

“Landry better not shoot me,” the Sergeant muttered as they approached the front door. “I wouldn’t want to spend the afterlife haunting his ass.” He slowly opened the door, sticking his gun out, stock first. He waved it around for a few seconds, hoping that Landry got the idea that it was them. “Here goes nothing,” he said with a sigh, and stepped out into the dark. 

When there was no gunshot, he breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Come on, let’s get moving,” he said, and led them across the street, Landry trotting from the other side to meet them. 

“Holy hell, man,” Landry said, eyes widening at the severity of his friend’s injuries. “They did a number on you.”

Mathis grinned through the pain. “Good to see you too,” he said dryly.

“Come on, we can patch him up in the car,” Hammond said. “We have a little time to kill before we get another shot at Tiago.”

The quartet glanced back at the building, where the fire had begun to spread, causing a bright glow on the first floor. They ran off towards the SUV to put distance between them and the building before someone discovered the blaze.

Chapter Five

Two hours after the first zombie set foot in town, thousands of zombies had infiltrated every street in town, wandering aimlessly in search of food. 

The scout on top of the abandoned gas station by the interstate looked at his watch, seeing that another fifteen minutes had passed since his last check. He peeled himself off of the roof and pulled his hoodie back a bit to remove the obstruction from his eyes.

For the first time since the nightmare had begun, he had a glimmer of hope. The stream of zombies coming off of the interstate had ended. The creatures at the back of the pack had successfully pushed enough of the ghouls forward that the ones breaking away had been refocused on the road in front of them.

The scout knew they still had a ton of issues to deal with, since there had been a constant stream of the walking corpses for over two hours, but at least the situation wasn’t actively getting worse.

He laid back down out of sight and pulled out his walkie-talkie, speaking low. “Okay everyone, listen up,” he said. “New zombies coming off of the interstate have stopped. We aren’t in the clear yet, though. The main horde is still marching by, so I wouldn’t recommend using guns or explosives quite yet. As soon as they’re passed, I’ll let you know. Good luck and stay safe out there.”

He put his walkie down on his chest and laid back on the roof, checking his watch again. Okay, another fourteen minute break, he thought, and got comfortable as the chorus of moans continued in the distance.

* * *

Jeff listened to the report from the interstate watch from his position in a house beside the school. He looked through the slits in the metal sheeting that had been affixed to the front windows for extra protection.

The school was about forty yards away, and from his vantage point he could see both the front and rear entrances, albeit not directly. The view across the forty yards was terrifying, as there were about five hundred ghouls wandering about, looking for something to become interested in.

Jeff looked back across the living room to his team that was supposed to help him in case of trouble. Buck and Steve were two teenagers, barely eighteen, looking like they couldn’t even run to the school without getting winded, let alone actually fighting for survival.

Christ, if something does go wrong, these boys are going to cause me more harm than good, he thought frantically. They might not be able to run now, but they sure as shit are going to be runners if they get bit.

He pursed his lips, pondering what to do in the event of trouble.

His radio clicked on, and Leon’s voice came through, “Hey Jeff, what’s your status?”

The skinhead raised the device to his lips. “Hanging tight, keeping watch,” he replied. “You?”

“Pretty quiet down on here on the west side,” came the response. “A few dozen milling about, but nothing too crazy. How is the school looking?”

Jeff shrugged. “I can see a few hundred from where I am, but most of them are in the field,” he replied. “There is a small group of them around the front and back entrances, but nothing too concerning yet.”

“I don’t think they can get through the front door, but watch that back door closely,” Leon instructed. “It’s pretty weak, so a good enough sized crowd could get in.”

Jeff nodded. “Understood,” he said. “Hoping it can hold for another hour, and we’ll be out of this bullshit.”

“Same here,” Leon replied with a sigh. “Stay frosty, and I’ll be in touch.”

“Sounds good,” the skinhead replied, and put down the radio, focusing his attention back on the school’s back door. 

It was difficult to see just in the moonlight, but the crowd around it appeared to have dispersed a bit.

“That’s odd,” he murmured, squinting. He strained his eyes to see in the dimly lit conditions. The crowd suddenly became smaller, one by one, and then he realized they were vanishing into the building. “Fuck, they got in.”

“What?” Steve cried, leaping to his feet. “They’re in the school?!”

“Let’s go get ‘em!” Buck added, scrambling up beside his friend.

Jeff raised a hand to calm them down. “Settle down there, guys,” he said firmly. “You two ain’t going anywhere.”

Steve gaped at him. “But we were told to—” 

“I don’t give a good goddamn what you were told to do,” the skinhead cut in. “You two don’t look like you could fight your way out of a wet paper bag, and I’ll be goddamned if you’re going out there with me.”

The kids winced at his tone and sat back down on the couch.

Buck scratched the back of his head. “Surely we can do something though, sir,” he said earnestly.

Jeff looked back out the window at the hundreds of zombies spread out between him and the school. Even with as good of a fighter as he was, there wasn’t any way he was going to be able to do much against a crowd that size.

He racked his brain, trying to come up with something. Finally it hit him.

He turned back to the kids. “If zombies start banging on the front door, you boys ain’t gonna start pissing yourselves, are you?” he asked.

“We’ll manage,” Steve declared, raising his chin. “What do you need us to do?”

Jeff waved them over. “Get over here,” he said, and when they were standing next to him at the window, he turned to them. “Okay, when I tell you to, I want you to start making one hell of a ruckus. Doesn’t have to be for long, just long enough to make a hole through them for me to get through.”

Buck gaped at him. “You’re…” he stammered. “You’re going out there?”

“If I don’t, those people in the school are going to have a bad day,” the skinhead said firmly. “Now, once you see me get to the field, you be as quiet as you can. The nose I make should pull them away from you and you’ll be safe. You ain’t going to have a radio, so you’ll just have to hang tight until morning when we start doing sweeps. You good with that?”

Both young men nodded and got into position at the window. 

Jeff pulled out his walkie talkie as he approached the back door. He peeked out and spotted a few zombies in the yard, but none closer than ten yards.

He raised the radio to his lips. “Leon, come in,” he said.

“Everything okay?” came the instant reply.

Jeff took a deep breath. “Negative,” he replied. “Some of those dead fucks are starting to get into the school.”

“Oh god,” Leon breathed.

“Relax, I’m on it,” the skinhead continued. “The door isn’t wide open, so I should be able to pull enough of them away for us to run the clock out.” He almost laughed at the fact he’d used Trenton’s football terminology, but bit it back.

“Where are you going to go?” Leon asked.

Jeff grimaced. “Haven’t thought that far ahead,” he admitted, “but hoping there is a vacant house on the other side of the field.”

“There should be a couple you can plow through,” Leon replied. “Don’t stop or try to reinforce it, just go through it and start making your way to Trenton’s house. He’s three blocks to the west of the school. I just talked to him, and he said his street is fairly clear. You move quickly, and I’ll let him know you’re coming.”

Jeff nodded. “See you on the other side, Leon,” he said, and then pocketed the radio and grabbed his metal pipe off of the counter. 

He took a moment, suppressing the What the fuck are you doing?! thoughts running through his head.

“All right,” he called, “make that noise!”

The two young men at the front of the house started smacking on the windows, making the glass and metal outside rattle. Within seconds, several nearby ghouls took notice and started coming their way, moaning loudly as they went.

The noise they made set off a chain reaction, drawing dozens more towards the house.

“They’re coming!” Buck cried.

“I’m out,” Jeff called. “Come lock the door behind me.” He threw open the door and darted outside, going straight for a zombie only a few yards away that had turned towards the noise at the house.

The skinhead swung hard, clipping the creature in the side of the head and dropping it quickly.

He scanned the yards, seeing five or six ghouls making their way to him from the other houses, but none were particularly close. He ran through the yard next to his house, lowering his shoulder and plowing through a zombie in that yard before taking up position on the far side of the house.

He got to the front and looked back towards the house, scanning the field towards the school. There were hundreds of zombies everywhere, most of whom were headed towards the reinforced house. There were already dozens of ghouls out front banging on the metal, which drove more creatures its way.

“I gotta do this quick, or those kids are toast,” Jeff muttered, and then noticed a slight opening across the field between the zombies, maybe ten yards if he was lucky. 

Rather than think about it, the skinhead let his instincts take over and immediately broke from cover. He ran hard towards the field, cutting diagonally across it towards the school, which was about seventy or eighty yards away.

As soon as he got across the side street and touched the sports field, he found himself between two large groups of zombies who had immediately forgotten about the house and started pursuing him.

The line through the corpses began to close, and his heart rate tripled.

This wasn’t smart, he thought, frantically looking towards the field, seeing an opening about ten yards away. There were several zombies in his way, but he couldn’t lose momentum, so he turned and lowered his shoulder, hoping for the best.

The first ghoul he encountered, he slammed into its arm, spinning it around and tumbling to the ground. The next one he met head on, using his metal pipe as a battering ram and holding it sideways to catch it on the chest and drive it back. 

There were a few other ghouls directly behind it, and he used his zombie shield to knock them down before jumping over them. He clipped his foot on a clawing hand and stumbled a bit.

He managed to stay on his feet, however, steadying himself before the final ghoul before the opening. With one arm, he swung hard, smacking the zombie in the side of the head and sending it flying away.

He picked up the pace again, getting a good ten yards away from the horde before pausing in the field. He looked at the school, about thirty yards away, seeing the crowd by the door was already starting to diminish.

He didn’t know if it was because they got inside or had broken away to get to the house, but he couldn’t dwell on what he couldn’t change. 

Jeff put his fingers in his mouth and let out a deafening whistle that echoed throughout the night air. He scanned around him, watching the zombies get closer and closer, but there was a pretty clear path to the row of houses on the other side of the field.

He let out several more whistles and yells, hoping to draw as much attention to himself as he could. Luckily, his tactic worked great, the majority of the dead coming away from the door to pursue him instead.

Before taking off for cover, Jeff glanced back at the house where Buck and Steve were, relieved to see that the zombies were leaving them alone as well.

The skinhead started running as the horde reached within a few yards of him. There were some creatures in front of him too, but they were spread out pretty thin. The run to the house was easy to cover safely, ducking and dodging.

Jeff avoided enough outstretched arms to make it to one of the houses, and smashed out the front window with his pipe. He hopped over the sill and into the living room before tearing to the back of the house. 

He paused at the back door before looking outside to make sure the coast was clear. And it was. He caught his breath and waited, listening to the moans at the front of the house. At the sound of a thump and steps on broken glass, he threw open the back door and rushed outside.

To be safe and put distance between him and the agitated corpses, he ran back another block. There were zombies ahead, but they were sporadic. Knowing he couldn’t risk one of them following him, he rushed up to the closest one and smacked it over the top of the head with his pipe before retreating to the shadows beside a house.

A few ghouls came out from beside the next one, attracted by the sound of the skull crack. They looked around for the source of the noise, but couldn’t find the concealed man in the dark.

Jeff waited patiently for them to hear the main horde moaning in the distance and wander off, and only then did he emerge from the shadows. He took off up to the main road, looking up towards the school, which was about four blocks up.

His stomach sank at the sight of a significant number of zombies still out front. 

Hope it isn’t like that in the back, he thought bitterly. Fuck all I can do about it if there is.

He darted across the street, running up to the house across from him and taking cover. He looked back from where he’d come, relieved to see that nothing had followed him.

He moved quietly and carefully over the next few blocks before locating the house where Trenton was. About a dozen ghouls stood between him and the safe house.

They’d better be looking for me, because this is going to have to be quick, he thought, and rushed out from cover. 

The first zombie he faced received a pipe to the face, and as the body crumpled, the other ghouls turned around and came his way. He tore towards them, lowering his shoulder and knocking them over.

He executed them on the ground, knowing that if any one of the ghouls saw him run inside the house, they could be in trouble.

As he whacked the rotted heads on the street, Trenton rushed out of the house with two others. They spread out quickly, cracking skulls and stabbing foreheads. In a matter of moments, the area in front of the safe house was clear.

“Well come on,” Trenton hissed, “you waiting for an invitation?”

Jeff smirked and ran towards the house. The quartet rushed inside and closed the door, barricading it behind them.

The skinhead leaned over, bracing his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. 

“Damn dude, you okay?” Trenton asked, brow furrowing.

“Yeah,” Jeff huffed, “just way more cardio than I wanted to do today.”

Trenton chuckled. “Fair enough, brother,” he said, patting his friend on the shoulder. “Fair enough.” He pulled out his walkie talkie. “Hey Leon, come in,” he said.

“Jeff make it okay?” Leon replied.

Trenton nodded. “Yep, he’s here and in one piece.”

“Was he able to pull them away from the school?” Leon asked.

The younger man glanced at Jeff, who was still doubled over, catching his breath. The skinhead managed to hold out a hand, giving him a thumbs up.

“Yeah, it worked,” Trenton said into the radio.

“Good,” Leon replied. “I’m glad he’s okay. Now we just have to hope he bought us enough time.”

The room fell silent, outside of Jeff’s labored breathing, everyone hoping beyond hope that he had.

* * *

Rogers sat by the window, now several feet from it for safety. There were a handful of zombies in the yard, having made their way up to look for food.

In the other room, the only sound were the muffled whimpers of the once fearsome Angel Rivas. 

Clara approached the window as Rogers continued to focus outside.

“We have company?” she asked.

The Detective nodded. “Yep, only a few,” he replied. “But as snipers like to say, we only need one.”

He stepped away from the window to go look into the living room. Angel lay on his side, still trussed up in the fuzzy pink BDSM gear, though much of it was now crimson from all the blood.

The living room was a total mess, with a significant pool of blood on the carpet. Angel’s shirt was in tatters, with various things carved into his flesh. His eyes, once dominating, were puffy and red from hours of crying.

“So, is it about that time?” Clara asked.

Rogers checked his watch, noting there was about a half hour before the humdinger was scheduled to go off. “Yeah, I think it is,” he said. “I’m pretty sure I have enough time to put my own special brand of suffering on him.”

“Looking forward to seeing that,” she replied with a smirk.

“Well come on then,” the Detective said, waving her over, “give me a hand with him.”

“Gladly,” Clara declared, and followed him back into the living room. 

Angel began to writhe around at the sight of the duo getting closer. They didn’t talk, simply each grabbed one of his arms, and dragged him across the sopping floor. As they went through the door, Rogers made sure to bonk his victim’s head on the door frame, just for good measure.

“Put him on his knees,” he instructed, and they lifted and rotated the weeping man in front of the window. Rogers reached over and opened the glass up wide, and then gently tapped on the windowsill.

Angel’s face betrayed his confusion, but that quickly turned to panic at the sound of a hungry moan from outside. He tried to wriggle away from the window, but Rogers gripped the back of his shirt collar, holding him in place.

The Detective leaned down so that his mouth was a hair’s breadth from the younger Rivas’ ear. “You hear that, you piece of shit?” he whispered. “You have a friend that wants to pay you a visit. Don’t worry, it’s not my partner Stevenson that you murdered, as much as I would love it to be. But I think this will be a nice substitute.”

A moment later, a zombie that looked to have once been a young blonde female in her twenties approached the window. It saw the trussed up man and lunged forward, sticking its head through the opening.

Rogers shoved Angel towards the gnashing teeth. “What’s wrong?” he taunted. “You don’t want to say hi?”

It was a struggle. Despite his wounds, Angel fought for his life, putting everything he had into pushing back. But Rogers had the position and the strength to move him forward slowly.

The zombie snapped at the air in anticipation of its meal. As the bound man was forced closer to it, his whimpers intensified, mixed in with panicked screams around the gag.

Finally, it happened. Rogers got him close enough, and the zombie clamped its mouth onto Angel’s nose.

Even with the ball gag, the scream was quite loud, but then instantly muffled as blood poured down the back of his throat, causing him to cough and gag.

When the zombie got a good bite, Rogers jerked Angel back quickly, ripping his nose clean off. He threw the thrashing man down onto the floor, and Clara drew her machete, stepping forward to stab the zombie in the face before closing the window.

Rogers grabbed Angel by the restraints and dragged him back to the living room, shoving him against the wall. He knelt down and sneered right in his face, eyes blazing with rage.

“No matter what you do, your life is over,” he snarled. “You can’t bargain your way out of this. You can’t bribe, or fight, or have daddy take care of this. With that bite, your fate is sealed. For a normal person, I would just put a round in their head and call it a day. But for you…” He shook his head, a smile curling his lips. “Oh no. For you, I’m going to sit and enjoy watching you come to terms with what just happened. Watch your eyes as panic sets in, knowing that you’ll never see another sunrise. Never have another shot of tequila. Never feel a woman’s touch again.” He glanced over his shoulder at Clara and chuckled. “Well, maybe if you’re nice, you can feel her boot in your gut again. But no promises.” He patted Angel on the shoulder and stood up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to fix myself a drink so I can properly enjoy watching you suffer.”

Angel let out another muffled scream at their backs, a combination of panic and anger and frustration.

“I’m impressed,” Clara said as they entered the kitchen. “Here I was thinking that inflicting physical pain was the way to go. You have some next level mind games.”

The Detective chuckled. “Stick with me, I’ll teach you everything I know,” he joked, and pulled out two glasses and a bottle of tequila from the cabinet. “Starting with a proper drink to watch a crime boss die to.”

“My kind of drink,” Clara declared. 

* * *

Zombies surrounded the bus, having been wandering by for hours. Sparks and Rufus had remained mostly silent, leaning against each other and enjoying the time.

Sparks kept their walkie talkie resting on her shoulder with the volume turned as low as it could go so they could wait for their signal.

“So, when we get through this, you going to be ready for the city life?” Rufus murmured.

Sparks chuckled. “City life?” she asked. “You think this is the city life?”

“Well, it’s certainly bigger than where we have been living,” he replied. “And a couple times bigger than where you found my old ass.”

She laughed. “This is true,” she agreed. “But yeah, I think I can manage living here. Question is, are you going to be able to handle all the hustle and bustle of this metropolis?”

“Hell girl, as long as we’re together breaking heads, I’m good anywhere,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

Sparks clapped a hand over her mouth as she burst into a fit of giggles, trying to keep the noise down.

He raised an eyebrow. “I was being sincere there, girl,” he said dryly.

“I know, I’m sorry,” she finally said when she got her laughter under control. “I just had a thought about your old squad mates and what they would think about you becoming an old softy.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, they would certainly have had a field day with that one,” he admitted.

She snuggled back up against him, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze, but before she could say anything, the radio clicked, and she reached up to grab it.

“The horde has passed,” the interstate watchman said. “They’re half a mile or so up the road. Clear for the humdinger.”

Sparks held down the button and said quietly, “Ten-four. We’re lighting this puppy now.” She put the radio away and got to her feet, holding a hand out for Rufus. “Time to light up the night sky,” she said with a grin.

He pulled her down instead of getting up, giving her one more bruising kiss on the mouth to remind her what he was fighting for. She cupped his cheek and smiled. And then they got up together.

“You check the escape route,” Rufus said, “I’ll get the fuse ready.”

Sparks peered out the front door, taking a knee by the first seat to stay out of sight. There was a steady stream of zombies wandering by, some of them almost right on the door. Just looking out, she could see a couple dozen stretched out fifteen yards from the bus.

The only saving grace was that they were somewhat spread out, with a yard or two between them. She looked over behind the driver’s seat and grabbed two metal pipes they’d brought along with them, getting them ready.

“How we looking?” Rufus asked as he came up behind her.

“We’re going to have to bust out hard,” she replied, shaking her head, “but we should be able to push through. It’s about ten, fifteen yards to the other side of them.”

He wrinkled his nose. “I would have thought they would have all been past us by now.”

Sparks shrugged. “Maybe they got hung up, maybe they’re just slow,” she mused. “Regardless, they’re out there.”

“Well okay then,” Rufus said with a nod. “You ready?”

She took a deep breath. “Ready as I’m ever going to be,” she replied.

“Hit the timer on your watch when I light this,” he instructed.

Sparks nodded and held up her wrist as he pulled out his lighter. When he flicked it and touched the flame to the fuse, sparks immediately began to fly, and he dropped it, running for the door.

Sparks handed him a pipe and put her hand on the door lever. “You run hard and you run fast,” she instructed. “Don’t slow down until I do.”

“Lead the way, girl,” he replied.

She took another deep breath and then flipped the door open.

The noise gained the attention of a ghoul walking by, that immediately took a pipe to the chest, staggering back. Sparks shoved the zombie hard, adjusting the trajectory a bit so that it fell to the right towards the back of the bus.

Rufus jumped out next and swung, hitting a ghoul in the gut and sending it tumbling away. He quickly joined Sparks in running through a small group of corpses, all of which actively tried to grab them.

They ducked and dodged and darted around outstretched hands while delivering a few jabs when they absolutely had to. The extra little bit of space allowed them to get through the mass of agitated, rotting flesh.

Sparks and Rufus sprinted up about fifteen yards before slowing down. They glanced over their shoulders at the forty or fifty zombies following them, moans filling the night air.

“Let’s get to the shelter,” Sparks urged. “If there are any of those things in the area, these moans are going to draw them to us.”

They took off at a light job, working their way the half mile or so to the building. When they got to the fence, they cautiously entered the perimeter.

Rufus had cleared the place out earlier, but with so many enemies wandering nearby, he didn’t want to take the chance in case some had headed inside. Once they were fairly certain they were alone, they closed the fence up behind them.

When they reached the building, it was still shut up tight. Inside, Sparks lit up a camping lamp, and patted Rufus on the back as he huffed and puffed.

“You gonna make it there, old timer?” she joked.

He grinned through his heavy breathing. “Oh yeah, never felt more alive,” he drawled.

The two explored the area for a moment, making doubly sure they were alone in there, which it turned out they were. Sparks grabbed a bottle of water and tossed it to him before grabbing one for herself. They sat in silence, enjoying the face that they were alive, and basking in the pride of what they’d achieved.

This was short lived.

“Hey girl,” Rufus said, brow furrowing. “Let me see your timer.”

She held out her wrist, and he took a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks on the exhale.

“The humdinger should have gone up by now,” he said, shaking his head. “Something’s wrong.”

“Calm down,” Sparks said gently, “I’m sure the fuse is just taking an extra minute.”

Rufus didn’t calm down, instead paced back and forth, muttering to himself the steps he’d taken with the bomb. “Fuck, everything was set up perfectly,” he groaned, stopping and running his hands over his head. “What the fuck could have happened?”

Spark’s eyes widened, and then she bit her bottom lip hard, shaking her head.

He glanced at her. “What is it?” he asked.

“Fucking Angel,” she muttered.

 “Angel?!” Rufus demanded. “What the hell does he have to do with the humdinger?”

Sparks sighed heavily. “This morning, when Rodriguez came into town, he was angry that Angel went to the north instead of following him,” she explained. “That son of a bitch must have done something to the humdinger.”

“That goddamn motherfucking cocksucker!” Rufus exploded, clenching his fists. “If I ever see him again I’m going to shove my hand down his throat, rip out his stomach, and feed it back to him!”

Sparks nodded. “That can wait,” she said, laying a hand over his and pulling his attention back to her. “How do we set off the humdinger?”

He let out a whoosh of breath and then resumed pacing. Finally he stopped and turned, rushing over to the duffel bag he’d left when they secured the building the first time. He rummaged around and pulled out a redneck rattler.

“Where did you get that from?” Sparks asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged. “Figured it might help with an escape if things went south,” he explained. “Instead, it’s going to save our asses.”

“What do we need to do?” Sparks asked.

“Light it and throw it inside the bus,” Rufus explained. “That open door will do just fine. This thing packs enough punch that it’ll set that big bitch off.”

She held out her hand. “Then that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

Chapter Six

Rufus blinked at her. “Like motherfucking hell you’re going out there,” he said. “We’re going out there.”

“No, I’m going out there,” Sparks countered, holding up a finger. “Because I need you to stay here and keep those things occupied at the gate.”

He bit his tongue, clenching his jaw as a million emotions ran over his face, and then begrudgingly set the rattler in her open hand. “How do you want to do this?” he muttered.

“I’m going over the fence at the back, and will make a run for the bus,” she explained. “I’m hoping that the light is dim enough that they won’t be able to see me, but if it isn’t, then I need you to keep them there. Their moans may have pulled back some that have already wandered by us, so I’m going to have my hands full.”

Rufus swallowed hard and nodded. “Okay, I’ll do as you ask,” he said, and then took her by the shoulders. “Now, you need to listen. You get this lit and thrown to the bus. If you can get it into the door, that’s great, but just get it close and it’ll do the trick. No unnecessary risks, you understand?”

She smiled and reached up to smooth the concern from his forehead. “Don’t worry, you aren’t getting rid of me this easily,” she promised.

He nodded and motioned for her to follow him out the door. She grabbed her metal pipe as she went, and as soon as they got outside, she ran to the back fence and tossed her weapon over. The fence was about ten feet high, and as soon as the metal clattered to the ground she got climbing.

As she did, Rufus stood in front of the main gate, which had forty or so zombies milling about. A dozen still moved up the road. They were making a hellish amount of noise, moaning and rattling the fence. He looked over their heads towards the humdinger, thankful that the ghouls from around it were heading his way.

“Yeah, come and get me assholes!” he bellowed, and followed the insult with a loud whistle, agitating them even more. “You’d better be safe, girl,” he muttered to himself in prayer.

Sparks scaled the fence and hit the ground. She picked up her weapon and started running through the desert landscape towards the bus. The road was about forty yards away, which was where all of the zombies were. She looked over and noticed Rufus doing a great job of keeping them occupied.

As she ran towards the humdinger, she strained her eyes through the darkness for threats. When she reached a quarter mile of the bus, she made out several figures moving around in front of it.

“Shit,” she grunted quietly, and moved up a couple hundred more yards before taking a knee to conceal her position. She was dismayed to realize there were at least fifty zombies around the bus, drawn back by the moans of the other ghouls. They stretched out about fifteen to twenty yards and moved across the edges of the dirt.

Sparks loosened up her throwing arm, rotating it a few times. I don’t care if you dislocate your shoulder, she thought to herself, you throw this thing as hard as you fucking can.

She spent another moment psyching herself up before beginning her assault, walking slowly but deliberately towards the mob of undead. When she was fifty yards away, she lit up the fuse on the rattler and picked up the pace. 

The noise of her feet on the sand drew the attention of the zombies on the road. Within seconds, a dozen of them came towards her, arms outstretched and moaning loudly.

She ran hard, getting closer than she’d ever wanted to be to the pack of ghouls headed her way. She waited until the last possible second to throw, giving it all she had.

As soon as the rattler left her hand, she kicked back against the ground and backpedaled, her leg muscles screaming at the sudden motion. Despite the pain of pulling a few muscles, Sparks pushed through, jogging backwards and watching the bomb fly through the air.

The fuse illuminated the bus as it tumbled, and her heart leapt at her true aim. The device bounced a yard away from the bus door, popping off of the ground and sailing into the open door into the bus.

“Hell yeah!” she cried, and then immediately turned, running on her hobbled legs as her muscles protested. She glanced back at the few dozen zombies hot on her tail as she moved. She knew she could outrun them despite her burning legs, but it was the humdinger explosion that she needed to get away from.

She pumped her legs as hard as she could, grunting with exertion as her muscles protested. She focused on the ground in front of her, making sure not to trip over any rocks in the darkness. 

The landscape suddenly lit up like it was high noon, quickly followed by a loud BOOM, the force of the blast sending her tumbling forward to the ground. She scrambled back to her feet, looking back at the gigantic fireball where the bus used to be.

She let out a sigh of relief that she’d made it work, before focusing back on her immediate task of surviving. She ran hard towards the safe house, seeing the majority of the ghouls that had been in front of it were moving back towards the explosion.

Faced with little other choice, she moved further into the desert, eventually reaching the back fence. She tossed her pipe over and started climbing up it, letting out a yelp at the pain in her overextended muscles.

“Come on girl, hurry it up!” Rufus cried as a few zombies peeled away from the back to stagger towards her.

She let out a battle cry to psych herself up and finished the climb, flopping over the top in her exhaustion.

Rufus managed to catch her in his arms, staggering back a bit before gently falling on his ass, still cradling her against him.

“Goddamn,” he blurted, “that was one hell of a sight, wasn’t it?” 

She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Knocked me flat on my ass, is what it did!” she replied. “Hell of a job there, ole timer.”

They laughed as the zombies reached the fence, gnashing against it and rattling the chain link.

“Come on,” Rufus said, leaning forward to plant her on the ground so they could get up. “Let’s get inside before they get too agitated.”

Sparks leaned on him as they walked back to the safe house, their part of the mission completed.

* * *

Leon startled when the humdinger went up, the windows rattling and the outside lit up despite being almost a mile away.

“Holy hell,” he muttered, “Rufus doesn’t disappoint.” He put his radio to his lips. “Okay, everyone, that was our one chance to end this thing,” he said firmly. “Stay silent and out of sight until you hear from me. Leon out.” He put the walkie talkie away and motioned to his small team to move to the interior of the house away from the windows. “Come on guys, let’s get comfortable,” he said quietly. “Going to take a while for this place to clear out.”

As they moved out of view of the windows, he let out a deep sigh, trying to resist the urge to hope they’d survived the nightmare.

* * *

On the south end of town, Rogers listened with glee to Leon’s message before putting the radio down. He walked into the living room where Clara was nursing a drink, smiling at a suffering Angel.

His nose was mostly clotted, or at least, what was left of his nose. Blood covered his face and the ground in front of him.

“Leon just sent out a message that the humdinger went off,” Rogers announced.

She nodded, swallowing a sip of tequila. “So that’s what that sound was,” she said. “Could feel it even here, so it must have been big.”

“Yeah, Rufus knows what he’s doing,” Rogers agreed.

She took another long sip before smiling at Angel. “Well, if the zombies are fleeing the town, I guess that means only one thing,” she said.

“Yep, everybody else has done their job,” Rogers agreed. “Suppose we should finish ours up.”

Angel’s eyes widened, and he began his thrashing anew.

“Do you want to do the honors?” Clara asked sweetly.

Rogers shook his head. “Nah, I’m good,” he replied, waving a hand. “Just watching the terror in his eyes as reality sets in is more than enough for me.”

“That’s generous of you,” she replied, and set down her glass, walking to the side table beside the couch. She ran a finger over the bloody instruments there, picking up a steak knife and turning it over in her hand before setting it back down.

“You know,” she mused, “slitting his throat just seems too… easy. Don’t you think?”

Rogers nodded, taking a seat to watch the show. “Yeah, and there’s always the chance that the blood leaving his body quickly will provide him some relief,” he agreed.

They thought for a moment as their captive writhed and begged through his ball gag.

“You could always use the meat tenderizing mallet,” the Detective suggested.

Clara grinned darkly, picking up the mallet. “I think my arm has enough strength left in it to crack his head open like a coconut,” she said.

“If not, I can always jump in for a few swings,” Rogers added.

“Teamwork, I like it!” she said brightly, and tested the weight of the mallet, giving it a few practice swings before stepping up to Angel. “Now, don’t you black out too quickly,” she warned. “I want you to feel these.”

Rogers couldn’t make out the words babbling around the ball gag, but he could only assume the broken man was begging for mercy. Even if they weren’t, he would spend the rest of his life comforting himself with the knowledge that they were.

The muffled screams were loud, but quickly lost their intensity as Clara brought the mallet down for blow after blow. Soon the only sound in the room was metal on skull, over and over and over and over…

Chapter Seven

Hammond and Mathis knelt down beside the building that Leon marked on the map as the one most likely to have a sniper. Mathis was still moving a bit slow, but had his sniper rifle strapped to his back. 

The Sergeant noticed his man was a bit woozy. “You going to make it?” he asked.

“I can rest when we dust this motherfucker,” Mathis growled.

“Okay, when we get in there, we do it silently,” Hammond said. “You let me lead and watch my back, clear?”

The sniper nodded. “Clear.”

The Sergeant checked his watch. “Okay, Landry and Whitaker should be in position soon,” he said. “Let’s do this.”

They moved towards the back entrance to the building, carefully looking through the glass to make sure the lobby was empty. Once they knew it was, Hammond worked on the lock. After several moments, he pried it open and led them inside.

Knowing that they needed to keep the noise to a minimum, he had his handgun and knife drawn. Even with the sound restriction, he wanted to be prepared for anything. The two of them crossed the darkened lobby to the stairwell without any altercation.

Working their way up to the top floor, it was just a few stories, and they silently opened the door to the work floor. It was a huge room full of cubicles, with large floor-to-ceiling windows on the exterior of the room.

Hammond looked over the floor, seeing that one of the windows had been bashed out. He pointed it out to Mathis, who nodded, and the two of them went covert, moving silently through the cube farm. 

They paused at each intersection to check for guards, but found none. Finally they reached the last aisle running along the windows and looked towards the broken one which was about fifteen yards up.

Hammond motioned for Mathis to double back to the previous aisle and shadow him down, and once he was in position the Sergeant moved towards the shoot point. As he grew closer, he spotted a pair of legs sticking out about waist high, as if the sniper was on a table aiming out of the building.

He prepared to come around the corner to deliver a kill strike, but as he did the hammer of a handgun clicked back close to his ear. Rather than put his hands up, he clicked the hammer back on his own gun, which was aimed at the sniper.

“You would be wise to drop your weapon,” his attacker said in a level voice, and Hammond glanced over his shoulder at the man sitting on a desk with his back pressed up against a cubicle wall.

“Nah, I don’t think so,” the Sergeant drawled. “If I’m going to go out, I’m gonna damn well take one of your men out with me.”

His attacker laughed. “I have no problem with that,” he said off-handedly. “That man is expendable.”

Hammond laughed in response, shaking his head.

“What’s so funny?” his attacker demanded.

The Sergeant shrugged. “Pretty sure your boss sees you as expendable as well,” he said.

The man sneered. “Probably, but that’s a topic for another day.” He extended his arm as if he were about to fire, but then froze in shock as a blade disappeared into his temple.

Hammond nodded to Mathis, who stood behind the cubicle wall with a smile on his face at the first stage of his revenge.

The Sergeant turned back to the sniper, who was looking over his shoulder at him.

“You do realize that with one pull of this trigger, Tiago will go into hiding and you’ll be overwhelmed within minutes, don’t you?” he asked.

Hammond smirked. “And you realize that in that few minutes we’ll have plenty of time to cut off your balls and force feed them to you, don’t you?” he shot back. “Do you care about his well being that much?”

The sniper seemed to weigh his options for a moment and then removed his hand from the trigger. He slid back off of the table and got to his feet, raising his hands. He was tall and slender, with a face full of tattoos of various religious symbols. 

“I’m just following orders,” he admitted. “I don’t really care if he lives or dies. If I’m going to go out, it’s not going to be chomping on my own balls.” He stared into Hammond’s eyes like a soldier, not like a victim.

The Sergeant cocked his head, impressed. “You don’t seem too upset about the end,” he said.

“I got forced into this life, and to be honest, I’m tired of it,” he explained. “It will be a welcome end.”

Hammond pursed his lips. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“I go by Azrael,” the sniper replied.

“Hmm, angel of death,” the Sergeant murmured. “I like it.”

Azrael nodded. “I have earned that name many times over, I assure you,” he said.

“Well, we have something in common, I suppose,” Hammond replied.

The sniper took a deep breath. “Based on your skill, I would assume we have much in common,” he said.

Hammond nodded at the compliment and then raised an eyebrow. “I have one more question for you,” he said.

“Go for it,” Azrael replied.

“Are you the forgiving kind?” the Sergeant asked.

“I suppose so,” the sniper replied with a shrug. “As long as the recipient is worth it.”

“Good to hear that,” Hammond said, and then immediately continued, “Mathis!”

Mathis dove from the cubicle he’d been hiding in and slammed the butt of his rifle into the side of Azrael’s head, knocking him out cold.

“Get him tied up,” Hammond instructed, and the sniper ripped out a telephone cord from the desk next to him to secure the Cartel member.

“What made you spare him?” Mathis asked as he worked.

Hammond took a deep breath. “A true zealot would have fired to warn his boss, regardless of the consequences to himself,” he explained. “He didn’t. If we could earn a favor with one of these guys, figured it would be worthwhile to try as long as it doesn’t impact the mission.”

“I guess if we’re going to make friends with someone,” Mathis added, “the angel of death is a good way to go.”

Hammond nodded. “This is true,” he agreed, and checked his watch. “Okay, you get in position. I need to take mine before Landry and Whitaker start some shit.”

“I’ll be here waiting for your signal,” Mathis said.

They exchanged a fist bump before Hammond headed out of the building. The sniper inspected the sniper rifle on the desk, admiring its military quality.

“Impressive,” he murmured, and out of respect for Azrael, he set it on the floor and ejected the mag. He set up his own rifle and then looked down at the bridge.

The bright moonlight illuminated three figures in the middle of the bridge, looking down at the interstate below where there were tens of thousands of zombies shuffling through town.

* * *

On the other side of the bridge, Landry and Whitaker exited the SUV, guns drawn and ready to throw down as they approached the target building. It was a one-story warehouse, with a row of windows on all sides. They approached from the rear, trying to stay out of sight.

Landry motioned to Whitaker, who moved into the building while he covered her. She reached the side of the window, peeking into it. Inside were several camping lights illuminating the place. It was spread out fairly well, but the concentration of light was near the front.

There appeared to be nearly a dozen heavily armed men standing about in a working bay. They were checking their weapons, surrounded by lanterns. One man stood by the window, watching the bridge. None of them were paying the rear any attention.

Whitaker retreated to Landry. “Dozen men, give or take, near the front of the building,” she said quietly. “All attention towards the bridge.”

“There a back entrance?” he murmured.

“Yeah, and given how careless these guys are acting, I would be surprised if it’s locked,” she replied.

Landry cocked his head. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

“A little inside/outside maneuver?” she asked with a smirk. “Molotov through the window followed by suppressing fire from inside?” 

He grinned. “I like it,” he agreed. “Rock, paper, scissors to see who goes inside?”

Whitaker reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle. “Molotov beats all three,” she said.

“How the hell does fire beat rock?” he demanded.

She rolled her eyes. “Are you reaching into fire to grab a rock?”

“Well…” He sighed. “No.”

“Then I think we’re done here,” she replied, and clapped him on the shoulder.

Landry sighed and readied his assault rifle, moving to the back door. He tried the knob and shook his head when it opened with no resistance. He couldn’t believe how careless these men were being.

Whitaker worked her way up the side of the building, hugging the wall to stay out of sight of the watcher inside. She reached the edge of the windows, which stretched out about ten yards, and went from waist high to a few feet up.

From her vantage point in the darkness, she could see the watchman looking towards the bridge intently. She broke her concentration for a moment to look over to the bridge herself, seeing Hammond in a standoff with Tiago and his two guards.

She snapped back to the mission at hand, looking up at the watchman barking out orders. She quickly backed up several steps to give herself a little more darkness cover, pulled out a lighter, and set the molotov ablaze before grabbing her handgun.

She moved up to the window, and the watchman looked her way when the firelight caught his eye. Before he could react, she pulled the trigger several times, blowing his face in and shattering the window.

Yells rose up from inside, and she threw the bottle in the window. As it crashed to the ground, flames engulfed the area.

Numerous Cartel members screamed in pain, several firing wildly towards the windows. Whitaker ducked back behind the concrete wall for cover, watching as what little remained of the glass was wiped out.

She readied her assault rifle, putting the barrel on the ledge and opening fire. She sent blind three-round bursts into the building, dispensing an entire magazine before reloading.

Inside, the gunfire intensified as Landry moved up. He’d taken cover behind a large metal toolbox that was almost as big as he was. Bullets ricocheted off of it, and he peeked around the corner to take a shot.

Two men darted across the aisle to the other side of the building, trying to flank him. He fired several times, catching one of them in the side, but the other one was protected by the human shield.

“Fuck,” Landry muttered. He reloaded and then looked out, seeing four men still gunning for him. Three were on Whitaker’s side, and one on the other. “You’d better still be alive, Whitaker,” he huffed, and then focused all his attention on the man flanking him.

It was dark over there, but he managed to catch a tool chest moving. He aimed carefully before pulling the trigger and was surprised that his nearly blind shot dropped a body. Being impressed with himself was short-lived, however, as the three remaining men were still firing at him.

He took cover as the top portion of the toolbox took a significant amount of damage. Small pieces of shrapnel rained down on him. 

With Landry pinned down, Whitaker peeked in through the window, seeing a charred mass of bodies on the floor. A few were dead, but most writhed around in pain with burns over most of their bodies.

She broke from cover and moved to the other side of the windows, looking back towards Landry and the three men still attacking him. She took aim and took one of them out in the back of the head.

The second one didn’t flinch, so focused on his task that he didn’t notice his friend drop, and she put a bullet in his head as well.

As blood and skull flew in every direction, splattering the final gunman, he turned around and opened fire on her. Landry broke cover and rushed into the center aisle, pulling the trigger and ending the man before he could shoot at Whitaker.

Landry reached the burn pit, seeing several men charred but still moving. He quickly put a round in each of them, not to put them out of their misery, but to make sure none of them could take a shot.

“Whitaker, you good?” he called.

“Yeah, you?” she called back.

“Got a little ringing in my ears from all the bullets on metal, but other than that, I’m good,” he replied.

She laughed. “Well, if you don’t have tinnitus by now, you aren’t doing it right,” she declared. “Now come on, we gotta go back up Hammond.”

* * *

Hammond walked out from the building he’d left Mathis in and sauntered straight up to Tiago, his assault rifle aimed at him.

The Rivas Cartel leader had his back turned, staring out over the horde of zombies marching through town, but when the Sergeant was fifteen yards away, he began to speak.

“You should take time to stop and appreciate the sight before you,” he declared. “We are some of the lucky few in human history to ever witness something like this.”

“And in a few minutes I’m going to be the only one who is going to be alive to remember it,” Hammond replied. “So why don’t you go ahead and turn around?”

Tiago and his guards complied, his gunmen holding their assault rifles at the ground but with their fingers still on the trigger. The leader stood in the middle, his facial wounds still present and prominent, staring at the Sergeant with his chin raised.

“So Rodriguez did betray me,” the Cartel leader said icily. “Does not surprise me. I always feared he had a weak stomach when it came to civilians. Answer me this, though. Did he help you give me my scars?” he asked, motioning to his face.

“Indirectly,” Hammond replied. “He told us where to go, but we did the heavy lifting.”

Tiago nodded. “Just as I figured,” he said. “I’m going to have fun with him after I am through with you.”

The guards began to raise their weapons, but Hammond leaned forward and they stopped.

“I’ll mow all three of you down before you can get those barrels past dick level,” he warned. “So why don’t you just calm down?”

Tiago smirked, waving between them to keep their guns low. “Surely you don’t think I would be out here with only these two, now would you?” he asked with a sneer very much like his son’s.

Just as he said that, gunfire erupted from the warehouse on the other side of the bridge, as Whitaker and Landry’s assault began.

“Nope,” Hammond said brightly, “we figured you had some men watching your back.”

The gunfire intensified, and smoke began to rise from the building.

“No matter,” Tiago said, though his voice sounded a little concerned. “I have other ways of dealing with you.” He smugly folded his arms, jutting out his chin. 

His smugness quickly drained from his face when a shot didn’t ring out, and Hammond laughed.

“I don’t think you did your signal right,” he said. “Let me try.” He raised his non-trigger finger in the air, pointing to the right. Almost immediately, a gunshot echoed, and the guard on the right had no time to react before a bullet ripped through his throat, taking his head clean off.”

Both Tiago and the other guard stood stock still for a moment in shock, blinking at the crumpled body. The guard raised his gun, and then another shot rang out, blowing his forehead open and leaving the Cartel leader alone on the bridge.

His smugness was completely gone, replaced with abject fear.

“Looks like you are all out of cards to play,” Hammond said, taking a step towards his enemy.

“Are you sure?” Tiago asked, voice shaking.

“Yeah, he’s sure,” Whitaker said, walking up with Landry at her side, both pointing their guns at the soon-to-be ex-Cartel leader.

“Seems as though you have countered all of my moves,” Tiago said. “However…” he reached into his jacket and pulled out a finely made twelve-inch bladed knife, brandishing it proudly. “Let’s see if you can fight like a real man.”

Hammond rolled his eyes, slinging his assault rifle over his shoulder. “Bold move, thinking that you can take down someone like—”

A gunshot cracked and Tiago’s knee exploded, sending him to the ground, screaming in pain.

“What the hell, Landry?” the Sergeant asked, turning to his companion.

The Private shrugged. “What?” he asked innocently. “I was told to work smarter, not harder.”

Whitaker scoffed, and Hammond rubbed his forehead, chuckling.

“So come on,” Landry continued, “let’s throw this motherfucker overboard and get back to town. I’m ready for a drink and some R&R.”

Hammond shrugged and motioned for the two of them to help him. He grabbed Tiago’s arms, while the others each took a leg.

“No!” Tiago screamed. “I’ll give you whatever you want!” He thrashed in their arms, but it was no use. “Power, money! Women!”

“Hey Landry?” Whitaker asked casually.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“I bet you ten bucks that I can make a Cartel leader fly,” she drawled.

“Make it twenty and you’re on,” he replied with a grin.

Whitaker looked Tiago dead in the eyes. “Only thing I want from you is your cooperation in winning twenty bucks from my friend here,” she said.

His eyes went wild at the realization that everything he’d ever acquired in life meant nothing. 

The soldiers set him on the shoulder of the bridge, and he scrabbled at the edge to try to hold himself there. Whitaker drew her knife and sliced off one of his fingers, prompting him to jerk his hands back.

Then they pushed.

Tiago Rivas screamed all the way down, free-falling to the marching horde of zombies below. The trio watched as he landed on top of several corpses, crumpling them to the ground. The fall didn’t kill him, cushioned by rotting flesh, and he continued to shriek as the ghouls converged on him and tore into his flesh. 

This went on for nearly a full minute, and his screams finally faded as his strength left him. Soon there wasn't so much as a torso left, just a few scattered body parts being picked clean of its flesh.

The trio nodded in approval of their job well done, and Hammond swiped his palms against each other.

“Landry, go get the car,” he instructed. “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

“Yes, sir!” Landry replied brightly, and jogged off as Hammond waved for Mathis to come down to join them.

* * *

The sniper, happily having watched Tiago get eaten through his scope, sat up and packed up his rifle. As he turned to leave, he heard Azrael shifting and groaning as he woke up.

Mathis knelt down in front of him. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about your head,” he said. “Just couldn’t risk you interfering.”

“Why did you let me live?” Azrael asked.

Mathis jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “My Sergeant thinks you were worth sparing because you weren’t a zealot,” he explained.

“And what do you think?” the bound man asked.

Mathis pointed to his face. “I think men you are in league with did this to me,” he said. “But I also think that if we’re going to survive this apocalypse, having a few friends is necessary. I don’t know if he’s right, all I can do is hope you are of the same mindset.” He stood up. “Your gun is in the next cubicle, just like you left it. Good luck to you, and I hope you find what you are looking for in this life.”

As he left, Azrael called out, “Soldier.”

Mathis turned around and stared at him.

“I’ll be seeing you around,” the bound man said, and gave him what seemed like a friendly nod.

Mathis nodded back and left, trying not to dwell on the situation too much, making his way back to the others to head home.

Chapter Eight

The sun rose over the battle-torn town of Fabens. Most of the zombies had wandered to the north, attracted by the humdinger explosion.

Leon emerged from hiding, stepping out into the neighborhood street. There were a few straggler ghouls, having gotten caught up on trees and fences.

Jeff and Trenton came around the corner a block up with metal pipes in hand, the former delivering a kill shot to one impaled on a branch.

“Don’t worry Leon,” the skinhead called, “we’re getting it cleaned up.”

“There a lot of them?” Leon asked.

Jeff shook his head. “Just a handful,” he replied. “We’ll get ‘em easy.”

“And the school?” Leon asked.

“About fifteen of them in the gym,” the skinhead replied, “but they didn’t make it any further.”

“That’s a relief,” Leon said, letting out a deep whoosh of breath. “I’m going to head up to the command center, see if I can get a bird's-eye view on things.”

Jeff saluted him before going back to his killing duty. 

Leon wandered towards the command center, hitting the main road. He gasped at the sight of the barricade on the bridge, or rather, what was left of it.

The weight of the zombies had completely dislodged it, sending most of it over the edge into the drainage ditch. As he approached the bridge, he looked down at several dozen ghouls still impaled and unable to move. 

A few citizens waved at him from the edge of the ditch, keeping a close eye on the dead with blunt weapons in hand.

“Don’t worry Mister Leon,” Buck called, puffing out his chest, “we’re keeping a good watch on them.”

Leon nodded. “Unless one of those things breaks free you don’t take a shot at them,” he instructed firmly. “Wait for Jeff.”

“Yes sir, we will,” Buck replied.

Leon nodded and continued on to the command center. Out front, torsos and legs lay strewn everywhere from the barbed wire traps. Clara walked around with a stake, impaling some of the bodies in the head to make sure they were dead.

“You’re looking energetic this morning,” Leon said as he approached.

She shook her head. “Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked, eyes bright. “That was the most fun I’ve had in years.”

“I take it your mission was a success?” he asked.

“Very much so,” she replied, beaming.

He cocked a brow. “And the body?”

“Kindling,” she declared.

“That’s my girl,” he said with a grin.

“Rogers is waiting inside for you,” she said, motioning to the door.

He nodded, but before he could head inside, two vehicles approached, honking loudly. They pulled up, and Sparks popped out of the driver’s seat of the lead one, shooting him a grin.

“Look who we found on our way back to town,” she said as Rufus got out of the passenger’s seat.

Leon looked past them as Hammond and his crew emerged from the second SUV. He rushed up to them, hugging the Sergeant and clapping Mathis on the back, grinning from ear-to-ear.

He took a deep breath. “Is he—”

“One hundred percent zombie chow,” Hammond declared.

Leon gave him a high five. “In that case, I have a very expensive bottle of tequila we’re opening tonight!” He looked over at Whitaker to congratulate her, but she was staring past him at the doorway to the command center.

“Excuse me, gents,” she said, and Leon turned to see Rogers in the doorway before the soldier was on him.

The others began to hoot and holler as they kissed.

“Come on, man, you can do better than that!” Leon taunted.

Landry cupped a hand around his mouth. “Yeah Whitaker, give him some tongue!”

The two didn’t break their union, simply extended their hands, each giving the group a middle finger as they continued to suck face.

Leon laughed. “Come on, let’s get inside,” he said. “Satellite should be up any minute.”

Landry bumped Whitaker on the way by, and she pulled back from Rogers, smirking up at his dazed face with a wink. She took his hand, and they trailed inside last, clustering around the monitor with the others.

Ethel approached with a tray of steaming mugs, and Leon gaped at her.

“Ethel, do you ever rest?” he asked.

“Not on a day like this,” she quipped. “We’re having a big dinner tonight, just so everyone knows.”

The group nodded and took their mugs, smiling and thanking her. 

Leon sat down in his chair and punched up the satellite. First up was Fabens. He zoomed in and panned around, only seeing a small handful of zombies roaming the streets.

“What about to the north?” Rufus asked.

Leon adjusted his camera, stopping over the crater the humdinger had made. Everyone let out an impressed whistle, as the crater was about twenty yards wide and scorched the earth.

“Jesus Christ man, I’m surprised we didn’t hear that in El Paso,” Hammond said, shaking his head.

Rufus grinned. “Thank you, I’m quite proud of it.”

Leon continued scanning, moving the camera several miles to the north. They saw a large pack of several thousand ghouls, all of them continuing northward.

“I’ll keep an eye on them,” he said, “but it looks like it worked.”

“Before we run out of time, check the El Paso group,” the Sergeant said, leaning forward.

Leon scrolled over to the tail end of the zombie horde. It had cleared El Paso, wandering into the desert west of town with nothing but open road ahead of them.

“Looks like they’re out of our lives,” he said, and everyone let out celebratory yells.

Various high-fives and hugs were given, coffee sloshing around everywhere.

Leon swiveled around and stood out of his seat. “I know you all sacrificed to get this moment, but I can’t thank you all enough,” he said sincerely. “You all saved this town in more ways than one. No more zombie horde, no more Angel, and no more El Guapo forcing us to risk life and limb just so he can get drunk. Today, we officially begin rebuilding our lives.”

The celebration kicked into gear, mugs clinking, and then the interstate watch air horn went off, signaling an approaching vehicle. 

Everyone filed outside, including Rogers, since they expected it to be Rodriguez. The SUV idled for a moment before Marcela stepped out.

“Marcela!” Hammond exclaimed, walking forward to greet her.

Leon and the rest of the group seemed confused, until Whitaker turned and explained, “She was our safe house contact. Friend of Rodriguez.”

“Is everything okay?” the Sergeant asked as Marcela approached him.

“For the moment, yes,” she replied. “Word is spreading that Tiago is dead, and that Angel is missing. Rodriguez has seized power, and a lot of support amongst the men. However, there are some who feel as though he can’t be trusted. They will remain quiet, for now, but this is a problem that will need to be dealt with sooner rather than later.”

“We understand,” Hammond said. “You stood by us, and we’ll stand by you. When you find something actionable, we’ll be ready.”

She nodded and smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “Rodriguez will be in touch soon, as will I.” She got back into her vehicle and sped off, leaving the group in a more somber mood than before she’d arrived.

Rogers looked at his watch and let out an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, who had six and a half minutes from the time we celebrated the end of the conflict to getting pulled into the middle of a Cartel gang war?”

Leon playfully raised his hand, and the group shared a laugh.

“Rogers is right,” Hammond said. “But that’s another problem for another day. Today, we celebrate our victory.”

The group let out a cheer before heading back into the command center. The week had been exhausting, but they had survived.

As always in the apocalypse, however, another storm cloud was on the horizon.

END

Up Next:  The Second Month series continues as Captain Kersey leads a daring mission to Boise in Idaho - Pt. 1