Dead South Rising: Book 1 (48 page)

Jess aimed the pistol at his head, squinting one eye. “I won’t miss.”

He tossed the knife to the grass.

As Jessica distracted the disarmed Mexican, David glimpsed the suddenly quiet Sammy, who had found his own firearm. Clawing, groping, he was trying desperately to reach it. To even out the odds.
 

Pushing through pain he’d never experienced before, David willed his body to action. It was as though his muscles moved via an outside force, too spent, too tired, too beat up to function on their own. An energy loan. From above.

I’ll pay you back, I promise.

David scrambled toward Sammy, fingers splayed cat-like, and he latched onto the man’s shredded ear. Or rather what was left of it. Randy’s first shot had taken yet another piece. If things kept up at this rate, Sam would have no ears by the end of the week. And maybe no head.

A howling. An angst-filled, primordial howling. Sammy’s head was too blood-slicked to get a good grip, but David had effectively hooked his target nonetheless. While one hand turned and twisted the ragged flesh that was once Sammy’s ear, he reached for the man’s revolver with the other. And won.

David rolled off the hollering man, quickly pointing the pistol, thumbing back the hammer. And all that old anger came rolling in, feeling right as rain and as predictable as the tides. And it was a high tide, indeed. He could end it, finish it, right then and there. It would be over and done. They’d never have to worry about Sammy or Gills ever again. His hand trembled, finger teasing the trigger. God he wanted to squeeze that trigger.

Jessica yelled, “Randy! Come out! It’s over!”

Sammy’s wailing continued, f-bombs abound, but it was indeed over. Realizing this, he quickly shut his screaming down, hand to his head, his eyes locking on the man who now held his life in a rickety balance. One that was tipping.
 

Huffing and grunting, David pressed and pushed to his feet in phases, wobbly, all the while keeping the hand cannon aimed at Sammy.

“Down, on your belly,” Jess ordered Gills.

She turned to Sam. “You, too. Spread eagle.” Then she smiled a sinister smile. “Sweet tits.”

Scowling, Sam rolled onto his belly, one arm out, the other hand plastered to the side of his head. “You gonna kill us? Huh?”

Ignoring Sam, Jess glanced toward the shed again. “Randy! Come on out.” An uncomfortable moment passed. “Randy?”

She shot a concerned glance at David.

David didn’t want to take his sights off of Sammy, wanted to fire a bullet into his thick caveman skull. And Randy not answering only served to fan the flames of fury. “I’ll check,” David managed, dragging himself back from the inferno roaring inside of him. “You got these two?”

Still breathing hard, she nodded, “Yeah.”

David started slowly toward the shed, then stopped. Randy appeared from around the corner, rifle propped to his shoulder using one hand. His other arm dangled heavily at his side.

Jessica turned, curious and concerned about David’s expression. “Randy!”

“I’m okay,” he called, though his face told a different story.

Seeing that Jessica and David had disarmed their oppressors, Randy let the rifle fall to his side, letting it dangle in his grip as impotently as his other blood-streaked arm.
 

“Are you okay? Were you shot?”

Randy nodded. “Got tagged. But I’m okay.”

As he drew closer, David and Jess saw blood running down his left arm. But he walked a proud pace, strong. This obese and sometimes awkward fellow floated on a cloud of fortitude. He’d done well. Very well.

“Let me see,” said Jess.

“It’s okay. I’ll live.”

“We need to get you back—”

Randy laughed a pain-tinged laugh. “It’s okay, Jess. Really. Missed the bone. Just shredded some skin and muscle.”

David watched her study him a moment, her lips twisted in apprehension and doubt. He knew Randy well enough to know he was trying to be tough. For her.
 

“Well, you took good care of me,” she said, “so I’ll take good care of you.”

His face beamed through his beard.

Returning their attention to the unusually quiet outlaw prisoners, Jess said, “What about these two?”

David understood in an instant, right then and there, that a second chance stared him in the face. Redemption. The opportunity to make the right decision. For once. His anger cooled, abating as though doused with liquid nitrogen. It was a new experience, this sudden, overwhelming calm. He didn’t understand where it came from, or how it had pervaded him. But he accepted it. Welcomed it. Despite this, what he said next would prove to be almost as painful as the beatings he’d endured.

“We let them go.”

Jessica blinked hard at David. “
What
?”

“We let them go.”

“Are you out of your mind? They were going to kill us, David.
Kill us
. Do you realize what you’re doing?”

He touched his swollen lip with the back of his hand, his gaze on the two men lying prone in the grass, their backs to him. Then nodded, even though it hurt to do so. “Yes. I do.”

Randy chimed in. “David, are you sure? I mean, I didn’t agree with cuffing them to the tree and leaving them, but that was before—”

“It’s the right thing to do,” David said easily. “We’re not murderers. I’m not going to purposefully murder someone. No matter what they’ve done or said to me.”

“Listen to the man. It’s the most sense he’s made,” Sammy said.

“Shut up, flat ass.” Jess said. Then to her cousin, “David, listen to me. We’ll have to watch our backs forever. They’ll come after us. We’ll never be safe with these two … assholes … on the loose.”

“Jess, had I not acted so rashly, they could very well have taken what they wanted and left.” He breathed an obviously painful, deep breath. “I started it. It was my fault.”

Sammy chimed in again, “That was the plan. But you had to—”

“I said shut the fuck up.” Jessica racked the 1911’s slide, pointed it straight at Sammy’s back.

Sam splayed himself as much as he could. He looked like a skydiver in mid-drop. “Easy, girl. Easy now.”

Jessica’s lips pursed, and she took in heavy breaths through flaring nostrils. David could tell she was not buying into his decision. Wanted to end it here and now. Just as he’d wanted to do himself only moments ago.

“Where is it, Jess?” David asked.

She glared at him, lips twisted into a pale swirl.

His brows climbed his forehead. “Where’s the stuff they want?”

She hesitated, the seconds ticking by, then jabbed a reluctant thumb back toward the trailer house. “Behind the house. Beneath that pile of rotting corpses they killed.”

David raised his voice. “Ya hear that, boys? Now you know where your shit is. You can take it and go.”

Guillermo did a pushup, started to press to his feet.

“Aaa,” David said, “not so fast, Gills. Randy, train your rifle on them. Now, here’s what’s going to happen. You two are going for a walk. A
long
walk. West. Away from here.” He wagged the Smith and Wesson’s barrel toward the field. “Gonna put you out to pasture, so to speak. You keep walking until we’re well outta sight. Until this whole place is outta sight. And then you keep walking. Comprende?”

Guillermo glanced back over his shoulder from his spot on the ground, and up at them as best he could. “You gonna leave us defenseless out there?” He shook his head. “May as well fucking kill us now. Shitty thing to do, cabrón. You just killing us anyway.”

Sammy hissed, “Shut up. We know where the stuff’s at now. We just come back and get it. Be on our merry fucking way.”

David said, “Listen to your buddy, Gills. He gets it.”

Guillermo said, “You gonna leave us a way outta here, then?”

“Yep. Harley’s still here. You two can decide who rides bitch. I have an idea who ought to, but I’ll leave it to you fellas.”

“Fucking pendejo mother—”

“Easy, Gills, easy,” Sammy said. “They’ll get theirs.”

“Now,” David said, “get to hoofing it, before I change my mind.” And his mind
was
changing.

Sammy started in. “You gotta leave us some weapons, El Jefe. Y’all killing us just by sending us out yonder. No guns? No knives? C’mon, whuddya say, huh?”

“March,” David commanded. His anger knocked.

The two outlaws grunted as they stood, brushing themselves of pastoral detritus, obscenities in two languages drifting dirty on the air.

Sammy turned to face David. “C’mon, El Jefe. Leave us the truck at least. Need something to haul our stuff in.”

With firm deliberation, David shook his head.

“The car, then?” Sammy asked. “I mean, it’s all shot up and …”

Another slow head shake.

Sammy pouted like a kid who had landed on Santa’s naughty list, denied his favorite toy.

“Our guns? You gotta leave us something, man.”

“I am,” David said. “Your lives.”

Guillermo grabbed Sammy’s upper arm, guiding him west. “Vámonos, mi amigo.” He gave David a look that evinced both disdain and gratitude.

“Listen to your friend, Sam.”

Sammy and Gills started toward the pond and beyond without another word.

David, Randy, and Jessica watched the men go in silence, the outlaws’ figures fading into the ebbing eve. The night and darkness were quickly intruding, taking over. Gills handled a shuffler barehanded while Sammy stood back and let him, and they were moving again. Once in a while, Sammy would glance behind him, seemingly contemplating a change of heart. Wanting to turn around and fight. But Guillermo would pat him on the back or arm, and he’d turn back around to face west.

David continued to gaze at the duo, gritting his teeth, his anger held in check. For once. A tough lesson, even tougher action. But he’d done it. And he now believed change was possible. Not easy, but possible. He’d badly wanted to shoot them both, be done with it. With them. He’d come so close …

He dropped the hammer on the revolver, opened the cylinder, dropping the bullets into his hand. Then he threw them as hard as he could. It hurt, the mere motion of it, but it felt good in his mind.

“What are you doing?” Jess asked.

“Gonna leave their weapons.”

“What? We could use these.”

He shook his head. “Guess I’m superstitious, but I don’t want anything associated with those two.”

She scrunched her lip again, unsure and a touch confused about this ‘new’ David standing before her. Following suit, she ejected the magazine from Guillermo’s Colt, emptied it, and tossed the bullets just as David had done. Afterwards, she hurled the magazine one direction, the gun another.

He smiled at her, dropped the revolver. He staggered, then dropped to one knee.

“David,” Jess said, reaching for his arm, steadying him.

He waved her off, sat on the ground. “I’m … I’ll be alright. Just need … give me a sec.”

“Go get the car,” Jess said to Randy.

Randy nodded, and started away.

“Wait,” David said. “Hold on.”

“What is it?” Jess asked.

“She left me,” David said. “Natalee.”

Jess looked at him knowingly. “David, it’s okay. We can talk about this later, when we get you—”

He continued, ignoring her. “After Karla died, she just couldn’t … She blamed me. For everything.” He wiped at his swollen cheek. “Can’t say I fault her. I was … hard to live with. Even before.” He swallowed. “So much … anger. Angry all the time. At her. At Karla. At myself … the world. God.” His decimated body was betraying him, making him struggle for every word, every breath. He clutched his side.

And his confession continued. “It takes everything I have to … suppress it. The anger. Then the world went to shit … and for twenty-one days, I went home. I sat in my recliner, sipped scotch. All day. I wasn’t looking for my wife. Nat was there … had come home to get something the day … all this happened. She didn’t expect me to be there.” He sniffled, ran his finger under his nose and winced. “She wasn’t feeling well, asked if she could stay the night, leave the next morning. She woke up … dead. I know that now, but I thought … I thought she was just … sick. Kept her in the bedroom, while I sat there and drank the days away. End of the world made me want her back. I missed her. Bad. Just … couldn’t let her go.”

Randy held his rifle to Jess, who took it. Then he leaned in, patted David on the shoulder. “It’s okay, man. It’s okay.”

“No,” David said, “it ain’t
okay
. I wasn’t out looking for her, like I led y’all to believe. Y’all had no idea Nat had left me after Karla’s death. I lied to y’all. Everyday, I lied. When I went out each day, to go look for my wife, I lied. I didn’t want you coming along, because I was lying. I’m just a goddamned liar.”

“You did the right thing today,” Randy said.

“Maybe.” He tried to stand. “I need to go home … free Natalee. Do what I should have done … when this whole goddamned thing started.”

Jessica cleared her throat and glanced at Randy furtively. “We were there. At your house. Today. Found the … the ‘Dear John’ note. She was already gone. Nowhere in the house. I’m sorry.”

David stopped, Adam’s apple quivering. “Gone?” Out of habit, he patted at his chest pocket, where the note used to ride.

Jess nodded slowly, her eyes swimming in sympathy. She touched his arm. “I’m sorry, David. I’m so sorry.”

“I deserve this. She doesn’t. I’ve got to find her. I can’t let her just … exist … like that.”

“No,” Jess said, “you’ve got to move on. Let it go. You did what you thought was right at the time, whether or not it was. There’s no changing the past. There’s simply no way to do it. All you can do is move on. Move forward. You’ve got Randy, Bryan … me. The Alamo’s a wonderful place, David. It’s just like the place you talked about, remember? Who knows how long this end-of-the-world shit will last. Until someone fixes it, all we can do is make the best of it. It’s hokey, I know, but that’s all we’ve got. And who knows, maybe we’ll be the ones who set things right.”

David nodded, the touch of a smile breaking through tears.

Jessica said, “Okay, I’ll drive the car. You okay to drive the truck?”

“All the shifting?” Randy said for David. “I don’t think either of us could handle it in our conditions.”