Five Roads To Texas (Book 10): Salvation Page 10

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  POTATO JUICE

  Nevada

  The small caravan of vehicles sped down US 95 on their way to the North Korean stash house in Arizona, that hopefully was still occupied by the most sought-after Rick Ramacher. A black Ford Super Duty, a silver Cadillac Escalade, a 26-foot U Haul truck, and two beat up Jeep Wranglers made up the motley group of vehicles that swiftly navigated the mess of abandoned cars and debris that littered the highway before them. Inside the lead vehicle, the Ford Super Duty, were the driver Dutch, Reese in the passenger seat, and Foz, who lay sprawled across the backseat, sleeping. Reese sat studying an old road map as Dutch slowed the big vehicle almost to a halt, then carefully pulled in between the remains of a jackknifed milk truck and a Hyundai Tiburon.

  “What a mess.” Dutch said as he navigated the Ford into a clear patch of road.

  “Uh huh.” Reese said, still studying the map. “Just don’t scratch the fucking paint. Hard to find a good body shop nowadays.” The man laughed at his own joke then set the map down in his lap. “We have a ways before we get to the border.”

  “I just hope we don’t miss out or run into a big patrol of those freaking Koreans. They got a good lead on us.”

  “Fuck them.” Reese grumbled as he folded the map back up. “I had Zap take the radios out of all their Humvees so there’s not a chance they could call any of their butt buddies and warn them. Shit, I don’t even think they have enough gas to make it across the border.” He slapped the thick paper across his right knee. “ Remember when you just had to ask your smart phone for directions and some robot chick with a sexy foreign accent would tell ya?” He smirked and glanced down at the map. “I sure miss those days Dutch.”

  “Well Sarge, we find this dude, maybe things will get back to normal.”

  “I don’t want things back to normal.” Reese hit him on the shoulder with the map. “We have it good right now. Hell, we’re fucking Kings. We do what we want. The worlds our own smelly fucking oyster! I don’t want it back to normal Dutch. I want it all.”

  “Yeah but…”

  “No.” Reese held up a gloved finger. “No more scrambling for scraps or bottom feeding. Dutch, you got fucked just like the rest of us when you got out. Now is our time for some payback. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “We grab that pole smoker Ramacher from the Koreans' safe house and we never have to look over our shoulders again. We call the shots. Fuck everybody else. They’ll owe us. You can own that little island you always wanted. Fish all fucking day and have babes pouring you drinks at night. Sound good?”

  “Sounds great, Sarge.”

  “And that Commie fuck,” Reese jerked a thumb back at the sleeping Foz. “can finally drown his liver in top shelf vodka. Hell, he can even afford to have that stinking potato juice on tap.”

  “He’d probably take baths in that shit.” Dutch chuckled.

  “I don’t even think Vodka could lure him into a bathtub Dutch. The man is soap challenged. As was his dumb ass brother.” Reese dropped the map into the glove box and pulled a tepid bottle of water out of a cup holder. “I think the reason those two were the only survivors of their UN unit was their smell. Those infected fucks couldn’t tell the difference between themselves and Foz. Probably confused the living fuck outta them.”

  “That’s a valid point.” Dutch was now starting to get a good, strong, whiff of the man’s cloying body odor. He reached over and turned the air conditioner up another notch.

  “His brother really fucked us on our escape.” Reese glanced back at the snoring Russian. “We might have gotten out of there before those two rice eaters tried to escape.”

  “Maybe.” Dutch said, unsuccessfully trying to avoid a rut in the asphalt.

  “Maybe? No, both Baz and Roman fucked us. They drew those shitbags right to us. Opposite of what their mission was. Dip fucks.”

  “Well, Sarge, we’re out now, so…”

  “Dutch, always the fucking optimist. After all the shit we’ve seen, even before this. How the hell do you keep a positive spin on shit?”

  The ex-army medic shrugged. “I’m alive, that’s how. Shit, I don’t know what comes next, but I have seen enough death to know I’m not ready for it. Staying alive is a positive. I’m afraid there is nothing past this.”

  “Sure there is.” Reese told him. “And what is that?”

  “Them.” The former Sergeant pointed off into the distance. Dutch glanced over to where his boss was pointing. He could barely make out the odd but familiar gait of several straggling infected. The things that were once human, were stalking the wreckage, desperately looking for something to eat. “There’s always that.”

  “No.” Dutch swallowed and returned his gaze to the carnage filled highway. “I’ll pass.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  TEAT SUCKLING-LIEUTENANT

  Peach Springs, AZ

  “They still behind us?” Ram asked Jesse as he kept the Durango at a steady ninety miles an hour. The Koreans had put several rounds through the front windshield, destroying the rearview mirror.

  “Yeah, they’re hanging back about six car lengths.” She glanced back over her shoulder, the M4 still in her hands. “I don’t know what the hell they're waiting for?”

  “Me either and that’s probably a bad thing.” As the Durango sped up a small hill on the highway, Jesse saw a road sign that read Salton City, 2 miles.

  “We’re coming up on civilization.”

  “Shit. I didn’t know there were any towns nearby.” Ram slowed the SUV down a bit as they reached the crest of another hill. About a mile and a half away, he could see the outlines of several dozen buildings. “Maybe we can lose them down there.”

  “Worth a try, Ram. Beats the desert. Probably a whole lot of infected down there though.” “Never can be easy, can it?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, here goes nothing.”

  Ram gunned the Dodge down the hill and into the city. The North Koreans struggled to keep up with the two but the Durango’s big engine had the advantage.

  “We’re losing them!” The Korean Sergeant shouted at his driver. “Sergeant, I can’t go any faster!”

  “Damnit!” Woo-Jin cursed as he tightly gripped the radio in his right hand. “Don’t lose them Corporal. Not before air support gets here!”

  “Sergeant.” The Corporal swallowed nervously as he tried to follow the Durango into the city that once held six thousand people. Ha-Jung knew the Sergeant didn’t suffer fools lightly. Private Dae-Jung still had the remains of a black eye from asking the Sergeant some innocuous question that had at that moment annoyed him. He could only imagine how angry Woo-Jin would be with him if he cost them their chance at capturing the American. Ha-Jung crushed the accelerator hard as he possibly could, willing the SUV to go faster.

  “Sergeant Woo-Jin.” A voice crackled over the Korean soldiers handheld radio. “Go ahead.” Woo-Jin said, raising the radio to his lips. “Woo-Jin.”

  “This is Air-one. We are en route to your location.” The voice replied in Korean. “Ground units are also heading your way.”

  “Ttong!” The Sergeant cursed in his native tongue as he released the radio’s talk button. Just what he needed, some damn officer swooping in and stealing his moment of glory. He and his men would just be reshuffled into the nameless, faceless mass of uniforms. Destined to guard warehouses and outhouses for the rest of their careers. “Ttong!” He cursed again, slamming his hand hard on the dashboard.

  “Lieutenant Kang will be leading the ground units, Sergeant. He will be in charge of the Operation.” Air-One informed him.

  “Lieutenant.” Woo-Jin mumbled. “A fucking Lieutenant.”

  “Don’t worry Sergeant Woo-Jin.” Ha-Jung said, carefully watching the vehicle and debris strewn road that led into Salton City. “We’ll have Ramacher before those ground units get here.” “Hmm.” The Sergeant just grunted then clicked the talk button on the radio. “We will hav
e the target in custody. Let us know when Lieutenant Vang arrives.”

  “Yes, you will be alerted. And it’s Lieutenant Kang.” Air-One said ending his transmission.

  “You catch that American trash,” Woo-Jin said, dropping the radio onto the seat next to him. “Before that teat suckling Lieutenant gets here, I will give you a battlefield promotion to Sergeant. You understand that Ha-Jung?”

  “Yes Sergeant.”

  “All of you.” Woo-Jin turned to the three soldiers in the rear of the SUV. “We catch them before Kang and his troops get here, I will promote all of you on the spot. Understand?” The men all quickly nodded yes at the Sergeant. “Good.” Woo-Jin smiled as he turned back to the front of the vehicle. He didn’t know if he could promote all of them, but they didn’t need to know that.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  ROAD DOGS

  Salton City, AZ

  “No shit!” Cotton scratched his dirty beard, belched then glanced over at the dozen or so other bikers that were gathered inside the Salton City Road Dog’s clubhouse.

  “No shit.” The bald-headed Grimm nodded, tossing their leader a can of Coors. “Fucker had a whole damn Coors truck stashed in his shop. He wouldn’t give that shit up either.”

  “Silly thing to die over.” Another bearded biker, Bull, said as he crushed an empty can in his scarred right hand. “Piss water.”

  “Seen folks die for less.” Cotton smirked. “Shit does taste like piss but it’ll do. Folks over on the west side aren’t giving up their supplies so easy.”

  “No. Bunny and I tried to sneak over one of their fences the other day. It was a no go. They had a sniper somewhere.” Vinnie patted the bigger biker on the shoulder.

  “Yeah.” Bunny chimed in, showing the others a rip in the shoulder of his club vest where the sniper had just missed putting a round in him. “Almost got me.”

  “Can’t let people fuck with your colors brother.” Bull said grabbing him hard on the shoulder and shaking him.

  “You can if the fuckers got a rifle and you can’t see them.” Bunny said quietly.

  “We’re running low on supplies, Cotton.” Grimm shook his head dismissively at the other two, then grabbed up another warm beer from the pile of cases that sat in the middle of the club house.

  “I know. We’ll find us a way to snag some of their shit.” The gang leader told him.

  “Too bad you can’t live on this shit.” Bunny chuckled at the cases of beer stacked in front of him. “You can’t?” Vinnie walked over to the pile and started to pull out several cans.

  “I’ve tried.” Bunny told the other biker.

  “Well, just cause you couldn’t make it work doesn't mean I can’t. You’re just a quitter, that’s all.” Vinnie popped up the top of a beer.

  “What the fuck ever, man.” Bunny grumbled as he picked a can off the top of the pile and walked over to the bar. “You have a plan Cotton? Those folks on the west side have crap wrapped up tight.”

  “I was thinking we burn the fuckers down.” Cotton leaned back in his chair. “Set the wall that faces Grove street on fire and while their dealing with that, Bunny and five or six others climb the Woodrow street wall. Come behind those ass monkeys, slit their throats, and we’re in.” He crossed his tattooed arms. “What do you think?”

  “Easy plan.” Vinnie nodded.

  “What if we get stuck behind there?” Bunny asked.

  “Yeah.” Grimm nodded. “We get caught with our asses hanging out, those dick heads will shoot the crap out of us.”

  “Then shoot them back.” Cotton growled. “I gotta hold your fuckin hands. We go in at night. Grove street, from our recon reports, is the least manned section of wall. Right now it’s the perfect strike point. Any of you don’t like it, you can come up with your own one.”

  After a few seconds of awkward silence, Bunny nodded and stepped forward. “It’s a great plan Cotton. Don’t worry about what these other lazy bastards think.”

  “Fuck you Bunny.” Grimm almost spat. “Why don’t you suck the man off while you’re at it?” “Don’t want you to lose your job man?”

  “Screw you Bunny!” The other biker crushed the beer can in his hand spraying the contents everywhere.

  “Easy!” Vinnie stepped between the two. “Save it for the Townies! We don’t need to be fighting between ourselves now!”

  “Enough!” Cotton stood up. “We’re doing this. Grimm, siphon us about five gallons of gasoline. Bunny, Guy, you grab as many rifles and pistols as you can. Tonight, those fuckers are going to pay for not sharing the wealth with us, brothers. I promise.”

  “Hey!” Donnie, one of the older bikers, who had been quietly listening to the others, kicked his booted feet off the beat-up coffee table he’d rested them on and sat up in the worn leather couch. “What if that fucking fire spreads and we can’t put it out? We could lose most of the town, if not all of it.”

  “Shit.” Bunny sat down heavily on a bar stool. “Donnie’s right. That fire takes hold, we could lose everything.”

  “Better than staying here and living off scraps.” Grimm said, crossing his tattooed arms. “We’re pretty fucked as it is. We can always move on if this thing goes south.”

  “Grimm’s right.” Vinnie nodded. “Better to take a chance then to stay fucked.”

  “Town burns, we gain nothing.” Donnie glanced up at Cotton. “We’ll have to find new digs and we all don’t have hogs anymore. And fuel, well, that’s also another issue.”

  “You’re betting on us losing.” Grimm spat. “Another fucking quitter. I’d thought you had more guts than that Donnie, what with being an OG and everything.”

  “I’m a fucking OG because I try to think things out before I act on ‘em.” The older biker said as he contained his urge to slit Grimm’s throat.

  “Donnie has a point.” Cotton nodded. “We will table the use of fire for now. We burn the city down, we'll be worse off than we are now. Grimm,” Cotton walked over to where the other man sat. “You ever disparage another one of the OG’s again, I’ll slit your bloated neck myself. You understand that?” The other biker just nodded and was caught off guard by the club leader. “Good, Brother Donnie showed some serious restraint. You could really learn from him. Now get your ass outside and see if you can find us anything worthwhile.”

  “Yeah... yeah. Sure Cotton.” Grimm said as he quickly got to his feet and headed out the door. “Kid is lucky.” Cotton said, glancing back at Donnie.

  “Yes, he is.” The other biker said as he gave the leader a quick look at the blade he had secreted in the palm of his right hand.

  “Ha.” Cotton nodded and laughed. Suddenly the lead biker’s walkie talkie clicked to life

  “We have two vehicles heading into town!” A female voice echoed tinny in the cheap radio’s speaker. Cotton recognized it as Tarot, Bunny’s old lady.

  “What kind of vehicles?”

  “SUV’s, looks like one is chasing the other. Both are northbound on main.”

  “Good. Tell the others. We’ll try to head them off at Cooper. Do what you can to funnel them in.” “Right.”

  “Let’s go!” Cotton shouted at the gathered bikers. “Maybe our luck has changed.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  I DON'T WANT YOU BREAKING A HIP

  Salton City, AZ

  “Watch out Ram!” Jesse flinched as the older prison guard deftly veered the SUV in between a burned-out Schwan's delivery truck and an old and abandoned VW convertible bug. Ram didn’t look over at his partner as he was white knuckled and focused on the debris filled street ahead of him. The Durango jerked hard to the right as he sped over a curb, tossing Jesse back and forth like one of those inflatable Tube Men he used to see outside car lots. The black-haired woman cursed as she held onto the upper door handle for support. The SUV tore across the vacant and worn sidewalk until Ram could finally find a clear patch of road for them to follow. Jesse glanced back over her shoulder trying to get a look at their pursuers posi
tion.

  “They still behind us?”

  “Yes!” She nodded. “They’re still milking it.” “Shit!” Ram cursed.

  “What?”

  “You think those cock holsters might have some more friends coming to join the party?” “That would definitely explain them hanging back.” Jesse jumped a little as the Dodge hit a

  pothole and kept moving. “We zip through this town, Ram, our asses will be hanging out in the desert.”

  “Yep.” Ram turned down another side street. A handful of deserted cars were parked along both sides of the road. This street seemed to be in better shape than the main one they were just on and that was fine with Ram. He’d follow this road until they no longer were able to. “You think we should try and hide somewhere?”

  “I don’t know, Ram? Maybe we can ambush them somewhere? I mean, if we can get the upper hand. At least disable their vehicle so they’re not following us.”

  “And what if they do have some kind of reinforcements?” “And what if they don’t?”

  “So, it’s like tossing a shit sandwich in the air and seeing if any of it gets on you when it lands?” “Weird analogy,” Jesse smirked. “but yes.”

  “Okay, can you see them?”

  “No.” Jesse had turned almost all the way around in the leather seat so she could have a better look. “We have some distance.”

  “Good, I’ll give us some more.”

  Neither Ram nor Jesse saw the old moving van as it swiftly emerged from the alleyway. The bigger vehicle struck the front of the Durango’s right fender, sending it into a spin. Ram, caught totally off guard, tried to fight for control of the SUV as it was sent spinning across the road. The Dodge spun a couple more times then crashed into a parked station wagon.

  “Fuck!” Slightly dazed by the impact, Ram angrily pushed the deflated airbag aside and looked over to where Jesse sat unmoving. “Jesse!”