Dead Series (Book 3): A Little More Alive (8 page)

Wendy sank into
the backseat and twenty yards from the two trucks, the three men stiffened,
bringing the touch of a grin to Paul’s lips. Throwing it in park, he rolled
down all four windows before grabbing the M4 tucked next to Stephanie’s long
legs. “Stay behind the car doors and let me do the talking. Safeties off and
fingers on the triggers.” Their doors opened at the same time and the men simultaneously
brought the weapons into their shoulders, keeping the barrels pointed at the
pavement.

“Howdy!” The taller
man in the middle spread a greasy smile beneath his dark mustache, sunlight
glinting off his white teeth. Cradling a long rifle in the nook of an arm, he
took off a black cowboy hat and let the wind run its fingers through his wavy black
hair. “Sorry for the inconvenience, but we live around here and like to know
who’s coming through our little slice of pie.”

Paul stood behind
his open door, pointing the M4 off to the side with his index finger inside the
trigger guard. “That’s none of your business.”

Slapping the hat
back on his head, the man offered his slick grin up to the men standing on
either side. He shifted his weight from one boot to the other and lifted his
chin. “Fraid it is, friend. See, we cleared the freaks out of this area and we’d
like to make sure it stays that way.” Tipping his hat back, he eyed them over.
“Any of you…bit?”

Paul’s anger
barebacked the red rising into his cheeks, tensing the muscles in his face. “Do
we look like we’re bit?”

His eyes traveled
the group, snagging on Wendy and Stephanie. “I don’t know, what do you think,
Mike? They look bit to you?”

A blond haired man
with big ears and little hands clutching a twelve-gauge took a moment to decide,
squinting against the sunshine as he gave them the once over. “They look fine
to me, Booth.”

“How about you,
Tommy? They look
fine
to you?”

The third man spit
tobacco to the ground with a wet
splat
,
eyes pinched in the shade of his hat. “Look right as rain to me, boss.”

The men shared an
inside chuckle as Booth’s lively eyes lingered on Stephanie and Wendy, fueling
his devilish grin. “Yes sir, you all look healthy as a horse to me.”

“Move your trucks
and let us pass!” Paul kept his eyes on the ring-leader, figuring that if he
had to shoot him the other two would turn tail for mommy’s house.

The smile finally slipped
from Booth’s face, puddling around his black boots. “Well now, hey listen, I’m
glad everyone is okay. I really am, but there’s a
small
toll to pass through this
secured
section of interstate.” He shrugged. “Just a little something for our effort.”

“
Toll
,” Curtis scoffed under his breath,
getting antsy behind Paul. “Fuck these hillbillies.”

Paul stepped out
from behind the driver’s door and when the men saw the weapon clutched in his
hands, they quickly took aim.

“Easy now,
mister.” Booth jammed the rifle into his shoulder, his confident façade crumbling
around the edges. “Not looking for any trouble.” His gaze caught on the badge
pinned to Paul’s coat. “You cops?”

“That’s right. Now
move the trucks out of the way.”

He considered it
for a long second, the wind the only thing daring to move. “Well, where y’all
comin from?”

“The east.”

“What police department
are you with? Got any ID to go with those badges.” He traded a smug glance with
his pals. “Not that they hold much weight now.” Slow laughter rolled from his
lips and picked up steam.

“What do you
want?”

Booth’s eyebrows
went up as he thought about it. “Not much.” His gaze drew to Stephanie, reviving
his shit-eating grin. He sniffed at the air like a wolf picking up a rabbit’s
scent. “You smell that, Mikey?”

Mike tipped his
head back and sampled the air. “Smells like pussy to me, boss.”

Paul squeezed the
trigger hard and the M4 pounded his shoulder in return, rattling his body with
a series of violent shakes. The men didn’t get off a single shot. Spinning into
the pickups and sliding to the ground, their weapons clattered across the
pavement. Paul held the trigger down until there was no doubt they were never
coming back. Their bodies jerked with each hot slug that found their flesh. He
didn’t want to look into their eyes like he did Jay. Didn’t want to know why.
Didn’t want to hear their excuses. He just wanted them out of the way. Forever.
They would need help from others to rebuild this planet but not from the likes
of people like this. People like this were even more dangerous than the
stragglers and, besides, what were they supposed to do? Give them a fair and
speedy trial when the verdict was already as clear as the blood staining the
interstate? No, it was high time to start saving the taxpayers a boatload of
time and money.

“Paul!” Stephanie
shouted, jerking him from his thoughts.

Letting off the
trigger, he staggered forward with the abrupt release in pressure and stared at
the crumpled bodies. The smell of gunpowder filled his lungs. Anger directed
his thoughts. They had it coming and he wouldn’t let his guilt get in the way.
Wouldn’t cry and ask God:
why me?
Instead,
he turned from the carnage to boldly face his team, holding their shocked gazes
with all he had. “Fuck em,” he said, turning for the Suburban.

No one moved and
no one spoke as he popped in a fresh mag. They looked at him as if he were an
uncaged animal.

Unpredictable.

Territorial.

Insane.

It pissed him off
and he tried not to show it but that was easier said than done. What didn’t
they get about it? He had to kill them. It was kill or be killed and why were
they looking at him like he was the bad guy? Like he was the one who blocked
the road and started talking about Wendy and Stephanie like they were cuts of
meat in the butcher’s case.

“I’ve got friends
in low places,” Curtis sang out, letting his weapon hang from his neck. “Where the
whiskey drowns and the beer chases…”

“Shut up.” Paul passed
him by and jerked his chin at Billy. “Take Wendy and see what they’ve got.”

Billy obediently
obliged, taking cautious steps toward the men with his rifle snug against his
shoulder and Wendy shadowing him with her pink gun clutched in both hands. The
little practice they took with the new weaponry just before leaving Camp Dodge didn’t
fill Wendy with much confidence. Her shots with the M4 were all over the place.
Said it was too heavy and hurt her shoulder. For now, she stuck with the
nine-millimeter but she would come around. She’d have to.

Paul nodded at
Calvin. “Nice work.”

Calvin couldn’t tear
his gaze from the dead men lying in the road, the M4’s strap cutting into his
neck like the weapon weighed a hundred pounds. “I can’t believe you just did
that.”

“They would’ve
killed us,” he said, covering Billy and Wendy as they looted the vehicles.
“Right after raping the women.”

“Yeah, I guess
they probably would’ve.” Calvin turned to Curtis. “Like we don’t have enough shit
to worry about already.”

Curtis snorted.
“People are scared and desperate right now and that’s the worst kind.”

Stephanie stopped
next to Paul and took his hand, drawing his bloodshot eyes. “Thank you.”

He stared back,
getting lost in something he couldn’t see but could definitely feel. The look
in her eyes and the touch of her skin calmed his thundering heart and eased his
troubled mind. Suddenly, the air returned to his lungs and the ringing cleared
in his ears.

Footsteps approached
and he turned to see Billy and Wendy running back over emptyhanded.

“They don’t have
much,” Billy panted, looking back at the trucks. “Nothing we want to make room
for.”

“You’re just
saying that because you’re stuffed in the back with the gear.”

Billy blinked at
Curtis. “That too.”

“What if this
whole thing is a trap?”

Paul’s gaze
snapped to Wendy and narrowed, the wind running through his hair. “What do you
mean? The cabin?”

She nodded. “What
if they’re just drawing people in to take whatever they have?”

“Yeah, like the
Titty Twister,” Curtis said.

“Love that movie,”
Billy murmured, inhaling a quick breath. “Remember all those cars and semis
piled up in that huge pit out back?” He blew out a long breath that flapped his
lips. “
Brian
. Sounds like a fake name
to me. I say we go somewhere warm.”

Paul hit him with
a chilly glare and Billy cleared his throat.

“I mean, after we
rescue this family, we should go somewhere warm, like the Keys.”

Pulling the weapon
over his head, Paul slipped it inside the cab. “It’s not a trap.”

“Oh really? And how
do you know that, your highness?” Curtis asked. “Did you get another message
from Brock or Abraham Lincoln?”

“No, I didn’t
but…” The words stalled in his mouth and slid back down his throat. He turned
back to the three dead men lying in the roadway and shuddered at the thought.
What if it was a trap? And why didn’t killing these men affect him the way it
did when he shot Marvin and Jay? What was happening to him? What was he
becoming? It was as equally frightening as it was exhilarating and that,
perhaps, was the scariest part. Maybe Wendy was right. Maybe this was his
calling.

Killing.

Saving.

Unfeeling.

And maybe
something
was seeing them through this
mess after all. Something beyond their plane of existence. Something that, for
whatever reason, wanted them to take it back. All of it. Getting in the truck
and shutting the door, Paul leaned an elbow out the window. “We have to take a
look. They have a little girl, for Christ’s sake.”

“He’s right.”
Stephanie climbed in front, catching a menacing glower from Wendy when she beat
her to the passenger door. “I could never live with myself if we didn’t at
least check.”

In the side
mirror, Paul watched Calvin standing in the street with the wind tugging at his
bangs, pulling his gaze back the way they came. “Cal?”

He hesitated
before turning to Paul with a dumbfounded look welling in his eyes.

“You okay?”

Raising the
assault rifle, Calvin pulled the strap over his head and shook hair from his
glasses. “No,” he said, climbing in back with the others.

T
he engine whined and the carburetor struggled in the
thin mountain air. Paul’s head felt lighter with each mile they climbed and he
wondered how the dramatic change in elevation would affect his aim. His endurance.
Every time he vacationed in Colorado it took him a day or two to catch his
breath but they didn’t have a day or two to adjust. Altitude sickness or not,
they were quickly closing in on another gun battle with the undead after zero
sleep and a twelve-hour drive and it concerned him. They were tired, scared and
grieving and this was no time for mistakes. Unfortunately, this was far from a
perfect world and they would just have to cowboy up and play the hand they’d
been dealt. If they didn’t, they’d never win because it would never be easy.

Ever.

“Jesus,” Curtis
whispered in the backseat.

Paul followed his
pinched gaze out the right side of the SUV. The mountain was tall and
snow-covered at the top and the person riding the ski lift up it was probably
dead. A slow frown wormed through Paul’s forehead when the figure reached the
top and circled back around without exiting the chair. “The lift is still
working,” he said to himself, turning back to the winding stretch of Interstate
70.

“Probably a
generator kicked on when the power dropped.”

Wendy turned her
neck to look at Billy in the tailgate, scrunching her nose up. “Why?”

“So they can get
people back down during a power outage.”

Curtis snorted,
watching the person slowly ride back down the mountain. “How do you know so
much about skiing?”

Billy laughed
sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean? You think black people don’t ski? You
think we just sit around playing basketball and listening to Kendrick Lamar all
day?”

Curtis furrowed
his brow. “Who?”

“Exactly, man.”
Billy shook his head. “Look, just keep your racist questions to yourself, David
Duke.”

“How is that a
racist question, convict?”

“Man,” Billy
groaned, rubbing his forehead. “The fact that you don’t even know, says a lot
about you, Curtis.”

“You’re taking
this way out of context.”

Billy yanked a
hand from his face. “Am I?”

“It was just a
question about a ski lift generator. Like anyone would know anything about
that, black or not.”

“It was the way
you said it, man. Like you couldn’t believe a black man likes to ski.”

Curtis chuckled
and rolled his eyes at Wendy sitting next to him.

Billy leaned
forward and shook a finger at him. “The problem with redneck hillbillies like
you is that you think black lives don’t matter.”

Sharp laughter
squirted from Curtis’ lips, splattering the ceiling with disdain. “Apparently
you don’t either or you wouldn’t have shot and killed your wife. Remember that time?”

Anger flared in
Billy’s eyes and Paul swerved as he watched him grab Curtis around the neck in
the mirror. The tires vibrated loudly against the rumble strips running along
the shoulder of the road.

“Paul!” Stephanie
shouted, bringing his attention, and the Suburban, back to center.

“Stop it!” Wendy
fought to separate them and, after smacking Billy in the side of the head, the
two men released and traded silent barbs through angry glares. “You’re grown
men. Stop acting like children!”

Turning in the
front seat, Stephanie looked them over. “How about we see who can be quiet for
the longest? Doesn’t that sound like fun?” she said, aiming a warning glare at
her younger brother.

Paul looked over at
Stephanie and smiled. “I like the sound of that game,” he said, turning onto
the pass and watching Copper Mountain shrink in the rearview mirror. Ascending Highway
91 much slower than intended, he restrained his lead foot to keep from blowing
the engine or getting them killed. The road turned dangerous in spots on one
side, with only a simple guardrail standing between them and the rocky slope
falling off below. A thin layer of pristine snow blanketed the ground but the
road was clear after basking in the sun since the last snowfall. It was March
and daytime highs in the Rockies could leave a sunburnt outline of your
sunglasses if you weren’t careful.

The Suburban
whined like a tired mule, languidly pulling them up the steep grade. The cabin
was less than thirty minutes away and Paul wanted to be there now. Wanted to
save that family and add them to his army. The same army that would, one day,
rain down hell upon this scourge pushing them toward the brink of extinction.
It was a faint glimmer of hope, but one he would water with every last drop.
The road grew steeper and the air thinner as they closed in on Leadville, a
town they had no idea about whatsoever – outside of the fact that it couldn’t
possibly be any more remote. Which, when Paul thought about it, was probably a
good thing. What were the odds the thousands upon thousands of stragglers in
Denver or Boulder or Colorado Springs, could climb these rugged mountains?
There’s no way their decomposing limbs could navigate the steep rock jutting
from the frozen earth. No way. Once the infected locals and tourists were
dispatched, this could be their foothold.

Paul slammed on
the brakes and skidded to a stop, jerking forward against the locked up seatbelt
and slapping back into the seat. Holding his breath, he watched the towering
elk stare back at him from the middle of the road with indifference filling its
big dark eyes. The deer his old Jeep Grand Cherokee plowed into shoved to the
forefront of his mind, digging its nails into his heart and puncturing the
valves. It still hurt and always would. Ultimately, that deer cost Carla, Mike
and Matt their lives. Well, that and his stupidity. Unlocking the breath, he
loosened the seatbelt cutting into his shoulder blade and the elk casually moved
on, crossing the road and sinuously navigating the rough terrain on the other
side with loping strides.

“Damn, that
would’ve sucked.”

Paul’s eyes drifted
to Billy in the mirror.

“Wreck the truck and
have to walk.” Billy grunted. “Can you imagine? Having to walk out there? With
those
things
?”

Wendy frowned at
him. “With elk?”

“No, with the dead
people out walking around.”

“Oh.”

“I’d be more
worried about the mountain lions if I were you.”

Billy’s eyes
snapped to Curtis, face falling. “Mountain lions?”

“Place is crawling
with them and you know they like the dark meat.”

He stared blankly
at Curtis for a tension-filled moment before filling the cab with braying
laughter. Suddenly, he stopped, face sobering in the late afternoon light. “Is
that really true?”

Paul stepped on
the gas and the SUV stubbornly obeyed, pulling them up the curvy pass that,
during a snowstorm, could be fatal to cross. “Let’s start getting ready,” he
said, slowing for a sharp bend in the road. “It’s not much further.”

“Leadville,
Colorado,” Billy murmured, double checking his weapons. “Who would’ve thunk
it?”

“Hopefully, this place
has a pot shop we can loot.”

“Now you’re
speaking my language, homie.” Billy fist-bumped Curtis. “Can you imagine? Just
walk in somewhere, grab a menu and start filling our baskets!”

“We need to track
down some Blue Widow,” Curtis suggested, pulling a joint from behind his ear.
“I heard that stuff is insane.”

“No bud,” Paul said,
glaring at them in the mirror. “I want everyone clearheaded for this.” He
looked back to the road. “As clearheaded as we can get anyway.”

“I shoot better when
I’m high.”

His gaze jerked back
to Curtis in the mirror and tightened. “If by shooting better, you mean right
by my fucking head then, yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Curtis lit the
lighter and brought it to the joint. He wavered for a long second, holding Paul’s
thin eyes in the mirror before making contact.

Paul dropped his
pinched gaze back to the road. “Cocksucker,” he grumbled, cracking a window.

“Just stickin with
what works, chief.” Curtis blew out a huge hit and passed the joint to Wendy.
“This is no different than popping a Red Bull and a peanut butter and jelly
sandwich just before a big race. I don’t mess with tradition.”

“Yeah well, if you
shoot me because you’re wasted, I’m going to be super pissed.”

“I’m not going to
shoot you, Paul. Jesus.”

“You better not!” Paul
focused on the road and sighed, forcing himself to relax into the seat. “Now, tell
me more about this Blue Widow. What’s it like?”

“I hope they’re
okay,” Stephanie said, zipping her coat and turning up the heater. “I hope we’re
not too late.”

Smoke trailed from
Wendy’s nose. “You mean if it’s not a trap.”

“It’s not a trap,
Wendy!”

“You don’t know
that for sure, Paul,” she fired back, passing the joint to Calvin.

“She’s right,”
Curtis added. “We don’t know shit about these people. Half the ones we’ve run
into have been complete douchebags.”

Calvin took a hit
and held his breath, staring vacantly out his side window at the scenery
flitting by. “I used to send nature shots into our local CBS meteorologist,” he
said, silencing the group and blowing out a smoky breath as Curtis stared blankly
at him. “Sometimes he would air them during his morning forecast.”

Everyone traded
bewildered looks inside the pregnant pause that came next, frowns bending their
faces, tires clicking against the cracks.

“Well, good for
you, Jack Hanna,” Curtis finally said, looking to the others for help.

Calvin turned to
face them, smoke rising from the joint pinched between his fingers. “When the
outbreak started and I couldn’t get ahold of Maria, I was in such a hurry to
get to the base I forgot my camera.” A melancholy sigh crept from his lips,
eyes drawing back to the rugged landscape bulging around them. “I thought it
was beautiful in Iowa, but this…” He shook his head. “This is something else.”

Paul loosened the
seatbelt that kept getting tighter with every mile or two, stomach twisting at
the thought of Calvin errantly shooting one of them because his head was
floating in the clouds with his dead wife. “Everyone relax. It’s not a trap.
And just to be sure, we’ll park a little way out and walk in on foot.”

Billy stiffened. “
Walk
? Didn’t I just get done saying how
bad it would suck to walk out there with those things?” He looked at Curtis.
“Is anyone hearing the words coming out of my mouth?”

“We won’t walk
far,” Paul replied. “Just far enough to not get jumped by dipshits with guns.”
He caught a satisfied look from Wendy and returned his gaze to the highway.

Calvin ashed on
the floor and took another hit. “Wish there would’ve been some RPGs left at the
base,” he said, shooting a faint dose of hope into Paul’s bloodstream. Calvin’s
eyes were suddenly present behind his glasses again and maybe his mind was
getting back in the game as well. “Or at least some grenades or something.”

“No doubt,” Billy
replied, snatching the joint from him. “They cleaned that place out hard.”

“And still got
their asses kicked.” Smoky laughter tumbled from Calvin’s lips. “Unbelievable.”

Paul took his
shooting hand off the wheel and flexed his fingers. The weapons and accessories
they found this morning would’ve been a lot more useful if Maria was still alive
to explain how to properly use and clean them. “Hey, at least we found the M4s
and ammo.”

“And don’t forget
the scopes and light mounts. Those things are light as hell!”

Paul nodded at
Billy in the mirror because Billy was right. The scopes would come in handy
when they approached the cabin on foot and the light mounts would free up an
entire hand in the dark. As long as they didn’t step in anymore traps, they
would have the advantage this time around like never before. Despite that, his
mind tripped over the gangly pharmacist, taking the wind from his sails. Back then,
if they had the gear they had now Sophia would still be alive today. Back then,
if they knew the butcher was the bait and the pharmacist was hiding off to the
side, she would be in this car with him right now. He could almost see her
sitting next to him. Her dark hair blowing in the wind and those pretty red
lips that always brightened her almond-shaped eyes when she smiled.

Sophia set a warm hand
on his, sending a charge up his arm. “Are you okay?”

Paul blinked a few
times, bringing Stephanie into focus and blood rushing into his cheeks. “Yeah.”

“Watch out, Paul!”
Wendy cried, bracing in the backseat.

Yanking the wheel
to the left, the SUV jumped back onto the road, kicking up a stream of dust on
the shoulder and straightening back out. Releasing a pent-up breath, he tipped
his head down and got into the gas.