Five Roads To Texas (Book 10): Salvation Page 20

  “Look.” Candy flashed him a photo that was taped to a map cover. “It’s him!”

  “Give me that.” Wez took the map cover from the other sergeant and quickly studied the photo that was affixed to it. “Shit, that’s Ramacher.”

  “Right? He’s the guy Command has been looking for.”

  “Well, fuck us.” Wez turned back to see Ramacher was still shoveling dirt onto Jesse’s grave. “That’s why he is stronger than he looks.”

  “Yeah, mutherfucker has super blood or some shit. What do you want to do Wez?” “Orders are orders.”

  “Really. I mean he’s pretty fucked up.” “But he could be the cure to all this.”

  “True. They probably wanna make the poor guy a fuckin pin cushion or something. You know how the Doctors are.”

  “I don’t know shit.” Wez crossed his arms in contemplation. “We have our orders Candy.” The other Airman nodded more out of habit than anything else and watched Ramacher tirelessly continue to fill in the grave. “What do you want to do?”

  “What I really want to do is take a shower and grab some chow.” Wez said as he turned away from the open doorway and the sad vision of Ramacher as he finished shoveling dirt into the grave site. Wez didn’t know the guy, but he wasn’t the type to screw somebody over when they were down. The man’s despair was something he hadn’t experienced in a long time. Sad when it became something you got used to or just stuffed down inside so you didn’t feel it. “We can figure this shit out later.”

  “Figure what out?” Ram asked as he stepped inside the building's big doorway. He tossed the shovel aside letting it clatter across the cement floor, stopping near a couple of unopened pelican cases.

  “What stuff we should take with us...” Candy quickly interjected.

  “Take it all.” The older man mirthlessly chuckled as he walked over to a pallet that held some cardboard cases of toilet paper. He shoved the cases to the side and easily pulled the wood pallet onto its side with a grunt. “I don’t think any of those North Korean fucks are coming back here.” He smiled without joy. “Most of them are probably roasting back there in Salvation.” He tore one of the wood struts off the pallet with his gloved right hand. “You guys shoot down that chopper?”

  “Yeah.” Wez was transfixed as he watched the man pull the pallet apart like it was made of balsa wood. “That was Candy.” The Sergeant added trying not to let his jaw drop.

  “Nice.”

  “Used the 240.” Candy said proudly.

  “Good. Fuckers deserved worse but what are you going to do?” He would have personally liked to have killed each and every North Korean soldier with his bare hands, there was not enough payback for what they had done to Jesse.

  “Any word on how California or Oregon’s doing?”

  “California is burning. No one to fight the wildfires.” Wez told him. “Oregon is basically in the same fucking boat. You have people there?”

  Ramacher just gritted his teeth at hearing more bad news. He grabbed up the two pieces of wood he needed from the pallet and stalked over to the open case of boots. He pulled the shoestrings from a pair and securely tied the boards together in the shape of a cross. “Besides that, how are we doing out there, boys? Are we kicking ass?” Both men just stood there staring at the homemade cross. Ram let out an impatient sigh and stopped in front of them, the wooden cross just dangled at his side.

  “We were on the run so long we were out of contact with current events.” Ram told the two Airmen. “North Koreans are pretty new to us... me.” He bitterly corrected himself.

  “We’re losing.” Wez told him.” Between the infected, the Norks, and Iranians. It’s a fuckin shit show out there.”

  “Iranians?” Ram shook his head. “Really?”

  “We’re getting intel the infection was a biological strike by Iran and North Korea. Better than a bunch of nukes I guess.”

  “Fuck.” Ram shook his head and glanced up at Wez. “The guy that helped build these safe houses called it. I argued with his smug ass about it, but he was right. I never believed this shit could happen. Damn Ian. Though he didn’t have a clue this was the end game. If we had hung with him, maybe Jesse would still be alive. Fuck!”

  “I’m sorry for your loss Ram.” Wez said quietly.

  “I’m not the only one that’s lost someone.” Ramacher glanced over at the body bag. “Never thought we’d be invaded. Not like this.”

  “We’ll get it back.” Candy said with the bravado only a soldier could muster. “Mutherfuckers Don’t have our backs against the wall yet.”

  “Hmm.” Ramacher nodded then ran his right hand through his dirty beard. This shit would soon no longer be his problem. “You guys have a marker or something to write with?”

  “Yeah... yeah.” Candy quickly reached into the sleeve pocket of his ABU and pulled out a black marker he occasionally used to plot air strikes when their tech was down. Old school shit. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” Ram took the marker and headed back out the big door. When he was out of earshot, Candy turned to the Tech Sergeant.

  “That is one scary mutherfucker. You see his eyes? He’s gone, man.” “I know. Won’t make our job easier.”

  “What? What?”

  “We have orders.” Wez told his exasperated partner.

  “Wez, that mutherfucker has been through some shit. He ain’t gonna wanna go with us!”

  “Grab me the radio would ya?” The Sergeant said, ignoring his partner. “We still follow orders.” “Shit. You see how he tore apart that pallet? Fuckers strong as a damn gorilla.”

  “Just get me the comms. This is bigger than us.”

  “Remember Wez, when that dark mutherfucker is tearing our arms off that I told you so.”

  Ram walked over to the freshly covered grave and knelt down at the head of it. He used the marker to write Jesse’s name and her birth date. He remembered celebrating in the wreckage of a Boeing 777 outside of Texas. They’d been scouring the crash site for anything they could salvage when Jesse told him it was her birthday.

  She was 26. A year older than he’d been when he joined the CDC. Ramacher found an intact package of Airline wafers, which they split. He remembered Jesse telling him this birthday, spent in the shell of a crashed Airliner, was better than any birthday she’d had in Foster care.

  Ram shook his head feeling the sorrow envelop him. With shaky hands he scribbled her birthdate on it followed by the current year. He then added ‘Beloved Daughter.’ There was a small hole he’d dug for the end of the cross, which he placed the makeshift marker in then securely covered with the excavated dirt.

  “Sorry Jesse. We should have stayed with Ian. At least you would have had some fun with that Mexican kid. Lived a little bit instead of running around digging through garbage with a broken-down old man.” He wiped the warm salty tears from his eyes. “I’m proud to call you my friend, my daughter. Wish it was me instead of you.”

  “Radios fucked and so is the whole MTS (modular tactical system.)”

  “What do you mean?” Wez finished pouring the coffee grounds into the coffee maker then turned to face the other sergeant. Candy held an obviously battle-damaged backpack in his hands.

  “Norks shot the fuck out of it when they got Harris.”

  “Mine?” Candy just shook his head. “Oh that’s just great. I was hoping for an Evac.”

  “Nope, looks like we’re going to have to drive outta here with Ramacher tied to the hood of the ATV like King motherfuckin Kong.” Candy dropped the useless gear onto the floor. “When you going to tell him we have orders to drag his ass back to the Airbase?”

  “In the morning.” Wez turned on the old coffee maker. “Let’s grab some chow and some shut eye. We’ll deal with this in the morning.”

  “Great.” Candy scooped up the MTS, thinking it better to not leave the gear lying about in case the Norks showed up. “Now I have all night to dream about Ramacher tearing our arms off.”

  Chapter Sixty-Th
ree

  SALVATION

  Peach Springs, AZ

  Ram had probably stood outside for a good hour before heading back into the water district building. Using the hanging remote, he closed the big rolling door, locking them safely inside. Ramacher noticed the two Airman had rummaged through the MRE’s for the best ones then headed back to the bunk room to get some sleep. Good, the two soldiers would make what he was going to do a lot messier and problematic. The prison guard stepped into the big group bathroom. He unholstered his Beretta and set the handgun on the edge of one of the ceramic sinks.

  With Jesse’s death weighing more than heavy on his heart and the news that California and Oregon were nothing more than fire pits, he had no reason to push on. His family was the driving factor, but now with Louise and Brittany more than likely dead, he had no reason to continue.

  The world was a shitshow and they all had front row seats. Hell, he couldn’t even keep Jesse alive, with or without his newly acquired strength. Fuck! He pounded the sink with his left fist driving a big crack in it. Looking in the mirror, he saw a face that wasn’t his. Blood stained, scars, cuts, beard and hair matted with gore. Tired eyes whose stare was a million miles away. He looked like he’d just crawled out of hell, which theoretically, he had. Ramacher grabbed the gun off the sink and jammed it into the right side of his head, finger on the trigger. That’s when he heard something strike and clatter across the tile floor. He moved his finger to outside the trigger guard and glanced down at his feet. On the dull white floor lay Jesse’s Rosary beads. “What the…”

  Ram dropped the pistol to his side then bent down and picked the Rosary up with his left hand. He quickly placed the Beretta on the sink then stared down at the string of beads with the small plastic cross on it. Jesse must have shoved them into his plate carrier right before she died.

  “Jesse.” He shook his head and stumbled forward catching himself on the sink. “Jesse.” Ram shook his head. “Still looking out for me.” He broke down and started sobbing. Waves of emotion collapsed upon him as he mourned for the loss of his family and friend. After a while, Ram fell into a deep, dreamless state. When he finally woke a few hours later, he knew what he needed to do.

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  BLOOD BAG

  Peach Springs, AZ

  “Here!”

  Wez felt something warm strike his chest as he slept soundly on one of the bottom beds in the bunk room. It had been a long time since he’d slept on a mattress. This was probably the best five hours of uninterrupted sleep he’d had in months. Now, he was suddenly jolted awake.

  “What?” The Tech Sergeant swiped around at the soft warmth that lay on his t-shirt clad chest. It was a blood bag. Wez quickly sat up holding the bag in his hands.

  “That’s my blood, that’s what you wanted right?” Ramacher stood about two feet away. Through bleary eyes, Wez noticed the man had showered and was clean shaven. He was even wearing the sergeant's extra set of ABU’s. “Hope you don’t mind that I borrowed one of your uniforms.

  Might make it easier for me to get around. You sure have a lot of shit in your packs.” “Ramacher.” Wez scratched his head trying to fully grasp the situation.

  “Hey! What’s up?” Candy sat up on the bunk across from Wez. He too was still dazed from being jarred out of a deep sleep. “What’s going on?”

  Ramacher turned sideways so both men could see him. He crossed his arms and gave them a mirthless grin. Candy saw that the older man looked considerably different then when he’d last seen him. Less dark, focused and healthy. Like a weight had been lifted from him.

  “Look. I know you guys know exactly who I am. I’m sure you have orders to drag my unhappy ass in to whomever's calling the shots these days.”

  “Ram…”

  “Uh.” Ramacher raised a finger to silence him. “I’ve been through this before Sarge. Didn’t turn out too good for me or Jesse. You want my blood.” He nodded at the bag the airman held. “There it is. I used one of the medical kits, didn’t think I could do it, it was a bitch.” He smiled for real this time. “I suggest you don’t try drawing your own blood. Messy and painful. There’s some ice packs on the workbench. Just snap em and they activate, I’m sure you’ve used them before.” He sighed. “That blood there should help. I’d go with ya, but I really don’t trust too many folks these days. I just buried the last person I trusted. I mean, you guys were probably going to try and Shanghai my ass. Definitely a bad idea. I would wholeheartedly advise against that.

  Kinda like you fellas, wouldn’t want to see anyone else get hurt. You see, whatever serum they injected me with back in Texas, has given me a little edge.”

  “See!” Candy said as he sat up on the bunk.

  “Take my blood and be happy. I’ve loaded one of the bikes up and I’m outta here. Don’t follow me. Please.”

  “Ram.” Wez started to protest then stopped “Thank you. Where are you headed to?” “No.” Ram turned and waved a finger at him. “You have your blood. Thanks for the ride here, I was pretty fucked up. I appreciated the help. Stay safe and be careful you two, you have the hope of the whole world in that bag. Don’t fuck it off.”

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  HUMAN CENTIPEDE

  Outside Peach Springs, AZ

  “So how far is this town?” Dutch asked as he finished the last drop from his water bottle. He gave the plastic container a once over then tossed it behind him. The three mercenaries slowly walked along the side of the warm asphalt highway that led to Salton City. Dutch, Foz, and Reese were loaded down with packs and rifles, all their worldly possessions from the Escalade. They’d ran out of gas about ten miles from the ambush site.

  “Twenty or so miles.” Reese said, wiping some sweat from his forehead. It was really starting to heat up.

  “Twenty or so miles.” Foz grinned as he lit up another of his nasty cigarillos. “Bah, is nothing. Back home, we walk further than that to get mail.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Reese said. “That’s why y’alls life expectancy is so low.” “Ha.” Foz laughed as he took another drag from the cigarello.

  “So, who is this buddy of yours in Salton City?”

  “He’s second in command of this biker gang there. Served with him in Africa. He’ll fix us up with some wheels.” Reese chuckled. “He owes me. Stopped him from getting clap from a he/she in Mali.”

  “Good friend.”

  “Yeah but shit. I ended up taking the bullet anyway.” Reese patted him firmly on the shoulder. “Worst case of Gonorrhea the Doc had ever seen.”

  “What?”

  “Hey son, horny is horny.” Reese chuckled .

  “So what about this Ramacher?” Foz interjected. “According to the gooks, he should be close.”

  “So what? We gonna drag his ass across the desert?” Dutch asked.

  “Hell, I’ll carry him on my shoulders if I have to.” Reese adjusted his pack. “Gotta make up for all that shit we lost.”

  “We should just cut and run. We’ve lost too much” Dutch said.

  “Cut and run to where?” Reese glanced over at Dutch who just shrugged. “Exactly.” Ahead of them they heard the roar of a small engine. Dutch pulled out his binoculars and glassed the highway in front of them.

  “Looks like a motorcycle.” Dutch said. “Maybe a soldier, American.” “We take him? His bike?” Foz asked.

  “Just wait.” Reese said, holding up his left hand. The three men’s hands tended on their rifles. As the motorcycle sped swiftly toward them they recognized the helmeted rider as a US soldier. The bike eventually slowed down and stopped, engine idling about twenty-five feet from the three men. The rider lifted his visor.

  “You guys okay?” He shouted over at them.

  “Vehicle ran out of gas about five miles back.” Reese told him. “Didn’t know there were any American soldiers out here.”

  “Scouting. Looking for bad guys.” The Airman said. “We’re headed for Salton City.” Reese told him.

  “
That place is fucked up.” The soldier told him. “ Norks bombed the shit out of it.” “Fuck.” Dutch grumbled.

  “Sorry. You have people there?”

  “Had.” Reese nodded, disappointed. He noticed the soldier had nonchalantly moved his right hand to the handgun on his hip. “That indeed is a bad spot of news.” Reese said studying the man’s uniform and dirt bike. He noticed the extra gear and gas can strapped to the side. “You are doing some long-range scouting sergeant, uh…”

  “Wezinski.” The Airman said. “Wezinski, and yes I am.”

  “Where are you headed?” Dutch asked.

  “North a bit.”

  “We just came that way.” Foz added. “It sucks.”

  “Man,” The soldier saw the arrow shaft protruding from between the man’s plate carrier and shoulder. “You better get that looked it.”

  “I’m fine.” Foz brushed it off. The Airman glanced back over at Reese who just shrugged and said. “He’s Russian.”

  “Oh.” The biker nodded at the explanation. “Well you guys look like you really need some help. There’s a fenced building about three miles south along the highway here. It’s loaded with supplies. Help yourself. I think it was once a Nork staging area.”

  “What?” Dutch frowned.

  “Yeah. We handed those fuckers their asses in Salton City, so I don’t think they’ll be looking for that safe house.”

  “I thought you said Salton City was fucked.” Reese relaxed his grip on his rifle.

  “It is, probably burnt to the ground now. Norks don’t play nice.” He revved the engine a little. “Nice talking to you fellas. Remember, three miles up. Might be a couple Air Force guys still there, just tell them Sergeant Wez sent ya.”

  “Thanks.” Reese nodded.

  “Hey.” Dutch stepped forward. “About ten miles or so North, there’s an ambush spot among an auto graveyard. Bunch of fucking scavengers. Steer clear of that.”