Five Roads To Texas (Book 10): Salvation Read online

  As the battle raged on outside of the crashed Tahoe, the screams and gunfire covered any sounds the Sergeant was making as he moved over to the damaged window. Woo-Jin took a deep, nervous breath then let it out, thankful for the distracting noise of battle. Not really wanting to see what was out there but not wanting to wait for the cannibals to come inside, he nervously peeked out of the open window.

  A monstrous, broken toothed face of a crazed female suddenly appeared in the opening in front of him. The infected woman let out the familiar nightmare screech that informed the other flesh eaters of Woo-Jin’s presence. The Sergeant also screamed in surprise, falling backwards as he did so.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  THE SUCKING

  Salton City, AZ

  “So, we just book it out of town?” Ram asked as he scanned the streets for infected or any other kind of trouble. Jesse just nodded as she steered the big moving van around a couple of deserted vehicles. The younger woman took her right hand off the steering wheel and rubbed her forehead with it.

  “You okay Jesse?”

  “I’m fine.” She rested her right arm on the bug out bag. “Just still feel a little shitty from the crash.” She smiled and returned her hand to the wheel. “I’m good. Honest.”

  “You want me to drive?” “Don’t trust me?”

  “I trust you.” Ram said as he returned to uneasily watching the area around him. “Just thought you might want a break.”

  “You have to be a little banged up too, Ram.”

  “I am.” He nodded. “Just being a good partner.”

  “Good partner.” Jesse smirked. “Admit it, you’re a control freak, Ram. You need to be the one driving. I mean, you are gripping that handle like it’s the last donut in the box.”

  Ram laughed at that and relaxed his grip on the overhead roof handle.

  “I do miss a good donut.” The old guard just chuckled and crossed his arms. His wife had always told him he was a control freak. Ram was the one that always had to drive and when he didn’t, he had a death grip on the ceiling handle or arm rest. Yeah, he thought to himself, maybe he was a control freak. Looking back outside he saw some quick movements heading in the direction they’d just come from. The infected.

  “We have some shit birds outside.” He nodded to the left where several cars were smashed together in a small pile of outbreak road rage.

  “I see them, they don’t seem to care about us.”

  “Too much noise coming from behind. We’re not as enticing as that racket back there. I’m sure those Koreans are now wishing they hadn’t followed us here.”

  “Followed you.” Jesse corrected him.

  “Me? Fuck!” Ram said exasperated as he ran a hand through his sweaty mop of hair. “I liked it better when the real bad guys were just these shit bags running around.”

  “You just figured that out?”

  “Guess I’m a little slow.” He gave her a slight grin. “I thought that Doctor SnowJob was working for the US not the fucking UN. Hell, I really don’t know what to think right now.” Out of the corner of his eye, Ram saw some more of the flesh eaters heading toward the firefight. “Those bikers and Koreans are going to be swamped with dinner guest.”

  “The infected do have their uses. Just...”

  “Yeah, well. Chalk one up for the good guys.” Ram said, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

  “We just need to find our way out of here.” Jesse said, turning the moving van down another street. This one was mostly clear of vehicles and debris. “These streets are like mazes.

  Whoever designed these roads was probably a History Major and not an Engineer. I don’t want to use a lot of gas just trying to get to the highway.”

  “We may not have a choice. Hey as long as those UN creeps are off our asses, I’m fine. There is still some fuel in the cans though, I don’t look forward to siphoning anything soon.”

  “I thought that was your favorite part. The sucking.”

  “Ha. Ha.” Ram let out a groan. “Seriously though, it won’t be long until we start running into bad gas in cars.”

  “That really a thing?” Jesse asked as she watched the road. “Yep, we…”

  There was a loud noise from above that both of them recognized as the rotors of a helicopter. Jesse didn’t hesitate in stopping the moving van in the middle of the road. She figured their best bet was to play dead. They had no idea whose side the aircraft was on, so hiding in plain sight sounded like a good idea. Jesse and Ram hunched down in the vehicle's cab as the helicopter flew in a westerly direction toward where the North Koreans had been. Ram sighed a breath of relief as the aircraft seemed to be oblivious of the moving van. The helicopter reminded him of one of those smaller ones he’d seen in that movie Black Hawk Down. Though it wasn’t as big as the Blackhawk that Uncle Sam had used to fly them to that damned clinic in Texas, this one had some wicked looking miniguns hanging from the sides. Ram and Jesse wanted no part of that. “It had UN markings.” Jesse said quietly.

  “Fuck, more Koreans?” “Probably.”

  “Then let’s definitely get the fuck out of here!”

  “Wait. Wait until it’s out of sight. There’s no way we can out run it.” Jesse gave him a big smile. “How’s it feel to be so popular, Ram?” The older man just let out a breath, rubbed his eyes, and shook his head.

  “Lucky me.”

  “Lucky us.” Jesse added.

  “Yeah,” Ram nodded. “Lucky us.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  “WELL, FUCK…”

  Salton City, AZ

  Bull tossed off the two infected that were hungrily tearing at his beefy arms. Bleeding and torn open from the various wounds caused by the diseased, the biker shakily picked up his rifle and using it as a bat, smashed one of them across the face. The blow sent the infected stumbling backward. The big biker then used the butt of the rifle to crush in the snapping jaws of his second attacker.

  Bull then flipped the gore encrusted AR-15 around in his hands and shot both of the men in the chest. The infected fell backwards onto the street, rounds through their hearts. Satisfied they were dead, Bull turned to see his fellow bikers were also busy trying to fight off the shit and piss covered infected.

  Now that his adrenaline was starting to wane, Bull could feel the numerous bites and scratches he’d sustained from the infected’s assault on him. The biker took a couple of steps, he felt a little wobbly on his feet. Bull tried to keep his balance, but found himself suddenly losing consciousness from the blood loss as he tumbled heavily onto the corpse of one of the men he’d just shot.

  The infection raged quickly through the motionless biker's body from the dozens of bite wounds and scratches he’d suffered from the crazed flesh eaters.

  Vinnie racked another round into the shotgun and blasted three of the diseased cannibals that

  were sprinting in his direction. One of them fell sideways onto the street, most of its head missing. The other two took pellets into their shoulder and chest. Their wounds weren’t lethal so the two stumbled backwards for a few seconds before continuing to speed hungrily toward Vinnie.

  “Shit!” The biker was now out of shells, he panicked and turned to make a break for his motorcycle, tossing away the empty shotgun in the process. The two wounded men were on his back before he could take two steps in that direction.

  “Fuck off me!” Vinnie shouted trying to shake the two attackers off of his back. A third infected, a woman in a dirty reflective highway workers vest and coveralls, joined the others in pulling the struggling biker to the ground.

  “Vinnie!” Bunny shouted as he saw his biker brother fall. “Vinnie!”

  “It’s too late!” Cotton shouted above Vinnie’s horrific screams. “Get to the fucking bikes!”

  “Shit!” Bunny cursed as he shoved one of the infected to the side with the barrel of his rifle. He’d used up all the rounds in his magazine and trying to reload he had panicked and fumbled around dropping his extra m
ags in the street. A dozen or so of the wild cannibals were now unknowingly standing over or on his ammo, unintentionally kicking them out of the bikers reach. Bunny’s rifle was now just a glorified club. The biker jammed the barrel hard into the chest of another attacker sending it stumbling back onto its ass.

  “There’s too fucking many!” Bunny screamed at the fleeing biker leader.

  Cotton, ignoring Bunny, spun around in fear and confusion as he tried to find an escape route away from the mass of infected that seemed to pour out of every building, side street, and alleyway. The biker leader fired his rifle into a group of hungry flesh eaters. A few fell dead but the rest, unfazed, swiftly continued in his direction. Cotton sprayed another burst into the crowd. A couple of his rounds struck the fleeing biker, Grimm, in the back by mistake. The wounded biker collapsed face first in the street, sliding a few feet before several of the infected quickly dog piled on top of him.

  Cotton cursed aloud and angrily fired into the group that were now feasting on the remains of his former brother, this time most of the diseased attackers tumbled back off of Grimm’s bloody corpse. Most of the infected had collapsed with fatal gunshot wounds. The biker leader was pissed at himself for having accidentally shot Grim in the first place but sometimes shit happens. He looked around for Bunny and saw the biker surrounded by a crowd of the diseased. The other biker was keeping them at bay by swinging his rifle at them like a bat. Cotton figured with Bunny’s distraction he might have a chance to escape the attacking infected. As he started to sprint away from the carnage, Cotton suddenly heard the thrum of the rotor blades from above. Quickly glancing upward, he saw a small helicopter with the UN markings on the side.

  “Well, fuck…” Was all Cotton had time to say before the Little Birds miniguns turned him into nothing more than a red mist.

  Woo-Jin was preparing to shoot an infected woman in the face when he heard and felt the helicopter hovering above him. The Sergeant hesitated for a quick second then squeezed the trigger on his pistol. The round struck the crazed woman in the nose. Blood and cartilage exploded all over the interior of the capsized SUV as she slumped to the roof of the Tahoe, very dead. Before Woo-Jin could move, the outside of the SUV suddenly erupted in violence as the helicopter's mini guns were unleashed on the infected and the remaining bikers. The deep Brrrrrr sound of the helicopter's weapons reverberated throughout the Sergeant’s body. The heavy gun fire masked the screams of all of those that were caught in the deadly path of the aircraft’s miniguns.

  Woo-Jin hugged the roof of the Tahoe for dear life as he felt and heard the ground tear and rumble around him. Through squinting and terrified eyes, he saw the bikers, along with the infected, being torn apart by the lethal rounds from the helicopter guns.

  The Sergeant pressed himself as close to the Tahoe’s roof as humanly possible while chunks of asphalt, stirred up by the aircrafts mini guns, crashed against the outside of the SUV. Woo-Jin knew it was only a matter of time before the deadly rounds sliced their way through the capsized vehicle and into his trembling body.

  Suddenly the firing stopped and the only sounds Woo-Jin could hear were the descending helicopter and the ringing in his ears.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  THAT JUST MAKES MY BALLS ACHE

  Somewhere near the Arizona Border

  “You think this is still worth it?” Dutch asked Reese as he hefted the full Jerry can and started to pour gasoline into a funnel that protruded out of the Escalades fuel tank.

  “Beats swabbing out glory holes for the rest of your miserable life doesn’t it?” Reese said pulling another gas can out of the back of the big Ford truck that was parked next to the SUV. The crew had parked the vehicles in a circle for cover and protection.

  “I hadn’t planned on swabbing out any Glory holes. Who the fuck does that anyway?” Dutch looked out across the empty desert. They had clear fields of fire all around them and he was happy about that.

  “Someone has to. You don’t want to be the one. That’s what I’m sayin brother. Why ya gotta ruin my analogy Dutch?” Reese spat on the ground. “Zap!”

  “Yeah?” The thin, ex-soldier hurried over to where the two men stood gassing up the Escalade. “Sarge?”

  “Take this can and go gas up the honey wagon.” Reese said, nodding in the direction of the U-Haul that held all their apocalyptic spoils. “Be quick because we’re falling behind.”

  “No worries.” Zap said as he grabbed the Jerry can and double timed it over to the truck. “Yeah,” Reese nodded at Dutch. “It’ll be worth it. How about this analogy? Straight and simple. Don’t want to be a worker bee your entire shit filled life, do you?”

  “I never considered myself a worker bee or my poop life filled with shit.” The former medic set the empty fuel can on the ground and quickly replaced the SUV’s gas cap.

  “You need to open your eyes brother.” Reese crossed his thick arms across his Eat A Dick T-shirt. “Right now we’re worker bees in a hive of shit.”

  “That is one weird fucking analogy Reese.” Dutch said as he grabbed up the Jerry can and set it securely in the bed of the Ford.

  “The area is clear of skin sacks.” Foz interrupted as he strolled in from patrolling the desert around them. His rifle slung tightly across his chest, he smoked a cheap cigarillo, which he offered to both men, who quickly declined the offer. The Russian just shrugged unfazed. Dutch noticed the man almost sounded disappointed at the fact that there were no infected around to kill.

  “Good, we’re about gassed up and ready to go.” Reese told him.

  “Da.” Foz just nodded as he took a drag of the cloying, sweet smelling cigarillo.

  “Foz, ole Dutch here was just asking me if this was all worth it. What say you?” Dutch rolled his eyes at this. He could tell he had gotten under Reese’s skin by questioning the mission, now the former soldier was going to poke him back.

  “Da.” Foz took a drag then fixed Dutch with steely eyes. The Russian let out a cloud of smoke then dropped the cigarillo butt to the dirt where he crushed it under his boot.

  “My brother died for this. My mother now only has one son!” Foz rolled back the left sleeve of his shirt to show Dutch a heavily tattooed forearm. The ex UN soldier jammed his index finger into a name in Cyrillic that had recently been crudely crossed out with a knife blade. The wound was still red and fresh. The soldier could see four more names crossed out and covered in old scar tissue. Dutch swallowed seeing the true depth of this man’s sorrow, anger, and self-loathing.

  “That is my brother's name. Now I cross him out because he is dead! We need this to be worth his loss.” Foz rolled his sleeve back down and pulled another cigarillo out of his shirt pocket and casually lit it up.

  “Rigs are all gassed up and ready to go.” Hobbs, followed by Zap, said as he carried two of the empty Jerry cans back to the rear of the Ford.

  “Good. Have the boys saddle up and we’ll get this shit show on the road.”

  “Right on boss.” Hobbs nodded as he shoved the cans across the bed of the truck.

  Foz eyed the two men as they finished securing the gas cans then quickly returned to their vehicles. The Russian took a long drag off the cigarillo then glanced over at Reese and Dutch. “You ever seen a man get his cock cut off?” The Russian asked nonchalantly and out of the blue.

  “No.” Reese frowned. “Can’t say I ever have.”

  “Nope. I don’t think anyone asked either.” Dutch said distastefully. He’d seen a few men lose their members in IED explosions and that was more than enough for him. Just the thought of it made him shudder involuntarily.

  “I assure you it is most unpleasant,” Foz took another long drag then tossed the cigarillo away. “for the man whose cock is being cut off. When we catch those Korean bastards, I will show you just how unpleasant it truly is. Cutting off your enemies cock is an old family tradition of revenge. My great, great Babushka started the tradition. They would then dry the foreskin and make coin purses out of them.” He
told the two with a dark smile. “Some could hold a lot of ruble while others, not so much.”

  “I’ll pass.” Dutch said, wanting to be done with this conversation. “Weak.” Foz said, grinding the smoking cigarillo with his boot heel.

  “Is it weak or normal that I don’t want to see some guy get his junk cut off?” Dutch tapped Reese on the shoulder. “I think I’m going to ride with Hobbs for a while.”

  Reese just nodded then glanced over at the brooding Russian. “That just makes my balls ache hearing that Foz. I think you guys really need better traditions over in Ukraine. Maybe when this is over, find a favorite TV show you can all watch as a family. Something without so much dick violence.”

  “Why?” Foz shrugged as he spat out some phlegm. Reese rolled his eyes then turned and walked over to the driver’s side of the truck. Foz reached into the pocket of his tac vest and pulled out a small, well used flask. He took a quick swig from it then headed over to the cab of the Ford.

  “Americans.” He chuckled.

  Chapter Forty

  SHE WASN'T BAD LOOKIN

  Salton City, AZ

  Woo-Jin had either passed out from a massive adrenaline dump or fear. The Sergeant wasn’t sure which but as he came to, he chose adrenaline. Wiping dust and debris from his eyes, he marveled at the silence, his ears still rang but apparently there wasn’t any more gunfire or screams of the infected coming from outside the wreckage of the SUV.