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Evening, Saturday, April 30
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Near Tarpley, TX
Despite it being the closest actual town to his retreat, Vance Cartwright had visited Tarpley only a few times. It hadn’t had anything he’d needed. A tiny gas station/convenience store, a roadside restaurant called Mac & Ernie’s Roadside Eatery (their brisket wasn’t bad), the post office, one Baptist church, and a strange little music venue called the William Creek Depot. The Ford was smoking and backfiring by the time the tiny convoy rolled into Tarpley. It was pitch black, without street lights or any sign of life from the homes. The scene gave him the shivers; they lived in a society where normally everything was lit up like Christmas, even a tiny little Texas town. Tim killed the motor and coasted the truck into the gas station.
“Ann, Belinda, Nicole, cover us!” Vance barked as they all bailed out. “Tim, start on the radiator.” His friend was already popping the hood, stepping back as a plume of steam erupted from the engine compartment. Meanwhile, Harry had climbed out of the cargo compartment and was stripping off his desert BDU shirt. Vance had just walked over, and he saw the ugly burn on the man’s abdomen, shaped just like the flash suppressor on the full auto M4 he’d loaned the Marine.
“Burned right through the fucking shirt,” Harry hissed, examining the wound. “Thank God the fabric was fire resistant.”
“Looks bad,” Vance said, looking closer. He could see fat and muscle. It looked really bad.
“Belinda can clean it up in no time,” Harry said.
“She’s on security,” Vance told him, “can you hold out for a few?”
“Sure,” Harry said. He leaned against the side of the truck, dug out a wound dressing from his belt pack, and pressed it over the burn. “Go help Tim,” he said, hissing from the pain. Vance couldn’t imagine how badly it hurt. He watched the other man for a moment, then went to help Tim.
“It was close,” Tim said as Vance came over to look. “Another five minutes probably would have blown the engine.” He pointed through billowing steam at the little LED light they’d added under the hood flickering in the plume. “The expansion tank blew, and we lost a hose.”
“Parts cover it?”
“Yes,” Tim said, “but we only have one tank, and two of those hoses.”
“We’ll hit an auto parts place, if we can.” Tim nodded as Vance scanned the area. The replacement radiator was sitting on the ground nearby, along with one of their two sets of rechargeable tools. “I’ll pitch in and help with overwatch.”
“How bad is Harry hurt?”
“Pretty badly.”
“Take over for Belinda so she can help her husband.” Vance looked at the ruined radiator and the tools. “Go. I got this. I’m a better mechanic anyway.” Vance laughed and moved over to the shadowy figure of Belinda. He could only tell it was her in the gloom because her dark skin didn’t show in the meager starlight.
“Belinda,” he said quietly. She glanced over at him. “Go help Harry, he’s hurt.” Her eyes became big circles of white in the dark.
“What? How bad?”
“Burn from the rifle, happened after you guys pulled out. Go, now.” She didn’t say another thing, just turned and left. Vance raised his M4 and started keeping watch.
Tim was the better choice for the work. In minutes he’d removed the grill, detached the ruined radiator, and was installing the new one. His movements were quick and sure, as if he’d done this a dozen times before. Of course, he knew the trucks better than anyone except possibly the manufacturer. After all the modifications they’d done, he knew it better.
“Where are all the people?” Ann stage whispered.
“I don’t know,” Vance said. Cordless tools buzzed as the new radiator was bolted in.
“Hundreds attacked the retreat,” she said. “Hundreds and hundreds. But no one is here?” Vance nodded; it didn’t make any sense. The sound of a man gasping and hissing against pain came from the other side of the truck. Harry was getting his wound cared for. Maybe some stitches. “If this is nationwide,” she continued, “that means millions of infected.” Vance didn’t want to say he thought those numbers were way low. Harry grunted again, and the dogs growled.
“Lexus, shhh,” Vance hissed at the dogs. Tim had the new radiator in, and the hoses attached. He was using his booted foot to bend the grill back into a shape which closely approximated the original, while a gallon of antifreeze drained into the radiator. The sound of tape tearing came from Belinda and Harry as she continued to administer to her injured husband. Tim had the grill back in place and was securing it as another gallon glugged in. There were too many things going on; he didn’t hear the feet pounding toward them until it was too late.
“Shit!” Harry bellowed as an infected crashed into Belinda from behind, sending her flying face first into the door of the pickup and knocking her out.
“Contact!” Vance yelled, moving around the front of the pickup to get a sight picture. Harry was rolling on the ground, struggling desperately with a mostly naked man almost as big as himself. Vance pulled the stock up and welded it to his cheek, using the holographic sight to get a clean shot. It was dark, and they were a spinning flurry of violence. He took a couple hesitant steps toward the fight before he saw the others. A dozen more were just breaking from behind a line of trees and sprinting toward them.
“Firing!” Vance yelled, swept the safety off, and squeezed the trigger. The M4 banged against his shoulder, and the first sprinter went down in a tangle.
“Motherfucker!” Harry screamed. “Cocksucking bastard!” He managed to roll on top of the other man, the infected’s arms under Harry’s legs, and he wedged his left arm under the man’s chin. He slammed his right into the guy’s solar plexus with stunning force, but the infected showed no reaction except to try desperately to bite Harry’s arm.
“Ann, Nicole!” Vance yelled.
“Contact!” both women yelled at the same time as they began firing in their own areas.
It was a whirlwind of violence. Vance fired as fast as he could aim, dropping the last of the sprinters only a handful of yards before they would have reached him. The last one, a beefy woman in her forties, nearly had her left arm severed at the elbow by the last round in his magazine. She spun to the ground with a screaming snarl. He dropped the magazine, catching it with his left and stuffing it in the bag on his waist, and he found a full one by touch. There were only three full mags remaining on his harness.
“We have a shitload of trouble!” Ann cried. Vance shot a look from his zone to hers. There had been dozens, now there were hundreds. His lips skinned back from his teeth. You stayed on your sector; that was small unit tactics 101. Another yell from Harry made Vance glance down. His attacker had gotten a hand loose and was tearing at the bandages on his chest. Blood flowed, and Harry bellowed in rage and pain. He tried to pull back, and the infected did the seemingly impossible—he arched hard enough to launch Harry off of him. In a split second the infected rolled up and started a leap at Harry.
With a feral snarl Harry and Belinda’s two Shepherds, Rock and Dewey, leapt from the rear of the crew cab and crashed into the infected. Their chewed collars trailed behind them, white teeth flashing in the dim moonlight as they tore into the infected with savage fury. White teeth were stained red in a heartbeat.
“Boys, no!” Harry bellowed and grabbed one of them by the collar to try and pull them off. Vance cursed, still unable to fire on the infected. He checked his sector, clear, and switched to Ann’s direction.
“Ann!” he barked. She was in mid-magazine swap. “Moving to your sector!”
“Good thing!” she said, engaging her M4’s bolt and raising the weapon back up just as Vance started firing.
“Tim, how we doing?” Vance asked.
“All set,” Tim answered, “last gallon going in.”
“Help Harry, the dogs are loose!” As if on cue, Lexus leapt out to join the fray, her leash also chewed. Harry finally managed to pull one of his dogs off the infected. With his left, he drew his handgun cross body, pushed the other dog aside with a foot, and shot the infected at point blank range. Once, twice, a third time. The dogs all moved back from the gunfire. They were trained not to be afraid of it, but the muzzle blast was painful at that range.
“Help!” Nicole yelled. Vance looked to see a group rising from the cover of brush to rush her. They’re fucking stalking us, he thought. He turned and dropped two before his magazine was empty again.
“In the trucks!” he yelled.
“The dogs!” Harry yelled. Harry looked, and all three dogs were attacking a dozen infected, ripping at them like frenzied sharks. The infected didn’t seem to know how to respond. They’d alternately swipe at the dogs, which would fall back, then try to run at the people by the trucks only to be attacked by the dogs again.
“In a minute,” Vance said. Tim got Harry up and into the truck. Vance moved to the front, tossed the empty antifreeze container aside, slammed the hood down, and hooked it with the bungee before going back to help Tim with Nicole. He fired twice at rushing infected as he went. Belinda was just beginning to come around. She was unsteady on her feet, and he could see the glimmer of blood from a scalp wound where her head had hit the truck.
“Mah bag-g,” Belinda said, her words slurred, and pointed. Tim scooped it up as he half-helped, half-carried her to the other truck. Everyone fell back to the doors of the trucks. Vance moved and shot, running another magazine empty, and dropping the empty. He cursed when it slipped from his fingers but didn’t stop to retrieve it. He slammed another in and stroked the bolt release, firing immediately. One magazine left.
The other truck roared to life, and a human wave raced at them. Vance did a mag dump on them, not even aiming, just working the gun from side to side. Movement to his left caught his eye. Three rushed the other truck just as his wife, Ann, was opening the door. He dropped the empty magazine and reached for the last one, knowing that even as he slammed it home, it would be too late. Ann saw them too. In the restricted space between the door and the truck seat, she couldn’t use her M4. She speed-drew her Glock 30 and fired, dropping one, but the other two crashed into the door, pinning her. She screamed. Vance tried but couldn’t get a clear shot.
Lexus came out of nowhere, leaping over the truck bed and crashing into both of the infected, sending them flying backward. She grabbed one of them by the foot, her powerful jaws snapping closed, and Vance could hear bones snap 15 feet away. She shook the limb hard enough that the infected’s whole body was flung from side to side. Ann hesitated, and Vance yelled for her to get in the car. He shot the other one as it got back up and was reaching for the dog, then he had to clamber into the truck. There was barely room with Tim, Harry, and him in the front seat.
“Rock, Dewey!” Belinda called from the other truck, following it up with a double whistle. The two dogs raced out of the gloom and into that truck. Vance was about to pull his door closed when Lexus made the front seat that much more crowded by careening up onto his lap. With some effort, he got the door closed.
A woman slammed into Vance’s door, her filthy visage mere inches from his face. Her teeth were bloody, cracked, and snapping at him. She tried to beat on the window, but it sounded funny. He looked and saw she was missing her arm below the elbow. It was the one he’d shot a short time ago. The bone stuck out an inch past the meat, veins and muscles exposed and glistening in the truck’s cab light. The artery wasn’t bleeding.
“What the?” he started to say, then she realized she was missing that limb, looking at the stump curiously, and switched to her remaining hand. It smashed against the window with amazing force, and Vance jerked away. Lexus bared bloody teeth and lunged against the glass, trying to get at her. “GO!” he cried, and Tim slammed the truck into gear and punched the gas. The two trucks shot out of Tarpley, heading west into the night.
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