The Beginning of the End (Book2): Road to Damnation (23 page)

Cowboy turned the radio
off and pushed his Stetson back on his head, “We were just having
the same conversation in here too. What do you want to do?”

“The way I see it, we
have two options. The first, we can pull over into the median and
park nose to nose. That way we can watch each others backs. The
second, we can take the next exit and find an abandoned house or a
hotel.”

“How big is the next
town?” Cowboy asked.

Sophie picked up the
map and ran her finger along the red line, “Looks like we’re
about five miles outside of Saratoga Springs.”

“Woo-Hoo,” Cowboy
said slapping his hands together, “Anyone feel like going to the
horse races?”

Saratoga Springs was
home to the Saratoga Race Course, the third-oldest racetrack in the
United States. It was a favorite getaway for New Yorkers to visit in
the summertime, trying their hand at a little horse betting. For some
added fun, those visiting the track had the rare opportunity to dress
fancy. Men donned their best suits and ties, while women wore chic
summer dresses and extravagant hats, adding an elegant touch to their
ensemble a popular tradition at the Saratoga racetrack, dating back
to the mid-1800s.

While I didn’t share
Cowboy’s enthusiasm, the idea of a soft bed sounded a hell of a lot
better than the hard military seat I was sitting on.

I thought about it for
a minute, trying to convince myself it wasn’t a bad idea but I knew
it was. In the end, my ass decided the soft bed was the way to go. I
could feel everyone’s eyes in Cowboy’s Humvee staring at me,
waiting for the answer. I knew what they wanted, I could see it in
their faces.

After a deep sigh, I
agreed to the hotel. Cowboy released another annoying sound, that
somewhat resembled words in the English language and slapped his hat
on his knee.

“We’ll take the
lead, you guys hang back a few hundred yards,” I said with
conviction. “There’s no telling how infected that town is. I’d
like to sneak in, get a few hours of sleep, and be out of town before
the sun comes up. And Cowboy, we’re not going anywhere near the
track.”

I could see the
disparaging look on his face. What was there to get excited about
anyway? It’s not like the place was open.

Sophie held up the map,
pointing at a small black line, “I think it would be safer if we
passed by the center of the city and stayed a few miles outside of
it. This place looks a little more desolate.”

“I think that’s a
much better idea. Sorry again, Cowboy. No track for you.”

A somber, “Shit,”
came from the passenger seat next to me. Chevy was sitting there with
his arms crossed.

“What’s your
problem,” I asked.

“It’s not fair.”

“I’m confused,
what’s not fair?” I asked.

“I always wanted to
see the track. I mean, I know no horse races are going on right now,
but visiting there for the history would be incredible. Since we’ll
probably never be back to New York, this would have been our last
chance.”

“That’s a good
point, Chevy!” Cowboy yelled over from the other vehicle.

It was pretty clear.
They both wanted to see the track.

I looked at the exit
for a minute, thinking. Then glanced over to Cowboy, “You guys
really want to see the track?”

They both nodded their
heads and gave me puppy dog faces.

“Well, like my dad
always says, ‘Wish in one hand. Shit in the other, and see which
one fills up first.’ We’re not going to the track, you two
idiots.”

Everyone laughed out
loud, except the two wearing the puppy dog faces. The laughing ceased
when the phone on the dashboard buzzed. I grabbed it, staring at the
screen and spun around to the backseat, “Mom, it’s Dad.”

Kane’s brother was
just feet from the MRAP, still celebrating when he felt the air
forced out of his lungs. He didn’t hear the shot, but he felt the
impact in the center of his chest. Lying there, on the edge of
consciousness, he slid his fingers across his heart. He searched for
the non-existent hole. Fighting to fill his lungs again, he rolled to
his side, where he saw a strangely shaped beanbag. It was the size of
a golf ball and tarnished with black gunpowder.

Beyond the projectile,
a man approached, who looked like he’d just walked out of the
mountains. His old country hat and beard flapped in the wind. He
spoke with a southern drawl, which seemed strange considering they
were a hundred miles from the Canadian border, “Oh, she sure do
sting, don’t she?” he said, bending over, looking at Kane’s
brother.

“I got this off a
dead cop,” he said, holding up what looked like a shotgun, but it
had a bright orange plastic butt and fore-end.

“It’s one of them
non-kill guns.”

Kane’s brother sat up
from his prone position, rubbing his chest, “I believe the word
you’re looking for is non-lethal, sir.”

The mountain man
pointed the barrel of the gun, inches from Kane’s brother’s
forehead, “I betcha it’ll be lethal at this distance,” he
jawed, “What do ya think?”

Kane’s brother used
two fingers, gently pushing the barrel away from his forehead, “I
don’t disagree with you, friend. I’ll be honest, I’m not too
familiar with this sort of weapon, but if I were a betting man, I’d
bet you were right. Right or wrong, if it were all the same to you,
I’d rather not find out. I’m not quite sure why you decided to
shoot me with your beanbag gun, but it was quite rude and stung like
the dickens. If you just give me a second to get up, I’ll properly
introduce myself, and I’m sure we can figure this out. Let’s
start with pointing that gun in a different direction and telling me
what you want.”

“You don’t make the
rules, and I tell you how it’s gonna be. You keep your ass situated
right there on the ground, where I can see you. I don’t give a shit
what your name is, but I’ll tell you what. I’ll be driving away
in that fancy rig of yours.”

“So that’s it my
friend? Do you want my vehicle? You could have just asked, and I
would have given it to you. You didn’t have to shoot me in the
chest with that idiotic gun.”

“Why do you call it
idiotic?” the mountain man questioned. “It took you down, didn’t
it?”

“Yes, it did take me
down and the reason I call it an idiotic gun is because an idiot is
holding it.”

“What the hell are
you talking like that for? Are you crazy or something? Watch
yourself, or I’ll put a beanbag right through that big brain of
yours.”

Kane’s brother
glanced up at the MRAP’s passenger side window, and back at the
mountain man, “I don’t think my brother is going to let you take
our vehicle.”

“What brother?” the
man questioned.

“I know he’s hard
to see, with the glare of the windshield, but my brother Kane has had
his MAC-10 pointed at you the whole time. Before you have a chance to
pull the trigger, you’ll feel thirty 9mm rounds pass through your
body, before you hit the ground. And I must tell you; Kane is not as
nice as I am. Why I’m willing to bet, you’ve angered him to the
point where he’d like to cut you up into little pieces, just
because you’ve shot me with your beanbag gun.”

The mountain man felt
the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He worked up the nerve to
take his eyes off of Kane’s brother long enough to glance up at the
MRAP. He stepped back looking through the glare, revealing the
sadistic looking man staring back out the window through his mirrored
sunglasses.

“Oh, you see him now,
don't you? It seems you’ve put yourself in a quandary. That’s
Kane, and I’m afraid, my dear friend. You’ve upset him.”

The mountain man
stepped forward staring at the man inside of the vehicle. He knew he
had the upper hand, and prepared to turn and run. He spun around and
found himself staring down the barrel of a revolver. It was pointed
right between his eyes.

Kane’s brother was
smiling at the mountain man, “Look’s like we got ourselves a
Mexican standoff.”

The mountain man
dropped the shotgun and raised both of his hands above his head.

Kane’s brother looked
down at the orange excuse for a weapon, “Uh-oh, you seem to have
dropped your gun. I guess that’s the end of our standoff.

That’s unfortunate,
my hillbilly friend. Your silly little gun was the only chance you
had to make it out of here alive.

I guess Kane and I are
going to have to cut you up into little pieces while you’re still
alive. After all, a promise is a promise.”

The Mountain Man
slapped the barrel of the revolver away and took off in a dead sprint
toward the tree line.

“He’s running off,
Kane. Shall I shoot him?”

Kane’s brother paused
as though he was waiting for a response, “Whatever you say,
brother.”

He lifted the revolver
and tracked the running man with gun sights. He took a deep breath,
released half of it, and held. The sound of the shot echoed off the
ridge, as the man fell to the ground.

The Mountain Man
clutched his lower leg and screamed in pain. Kane’s brother gave
the revolver a spin on his finger and slid it back in his belt, like
an old time cowboy, “Good shooting, eh brother?”

The screams of the
mountain man subsided, and he was crawling for the wood line.

“Where are you going
in such a hurry? I’ve told you, Kane and I have plans for you.”

The man felt the
pressure of a foot against his leg wound. He let out a piercing
scream. He rolled back in time to see the butt of the revolver
swinging toward his temple.

* * *

When the mountain man
awoke, he was bound at his hands and ankles. His feet were chained
two feet up to a large oak tree. His hands chained to the trailer
hitch of the MRAP. He was suspended in the air, staring at the sky.
His body was stretched to its limit. The pain was agonizing. He
pleaded for a bullet from the revolver, as to not partake in the
heinous scene, which was about to unfold.

“Please let me go, or
put a bullet in my brain. I’ll do anything. Just don’t rip me in
half with your truck.”

Kane’s brother pulled
out the revolver and dragged it over his face, “Are you asking me
for a bullet?”

“I’m asking you to
live first,” he begged.

The mountain man
watched as the evil man disappeared behind the MRAP. He took the
opportunity to shake his restraints, hoping something would break
free. He felt like his hand was loosening when he heard a voice
coming back.

“I found your gun.”

Kane’s brother had
been standing there watching the whole time. He was holding the
orange non-lethal shotgun.

He pulled the trigger
striking the suspended man on the side of his stomach. The impact
instantly left a purple circle on the man’s belly, forcing him to
cry out in pain.

Kane’s brother ran
over and pushed the hot shotgun barrel against the wound, “Oh, she
sure do sting, don’t she?” he mocked.

Kane’s brother
stepped back and pointed the barrel at the man’s skull, “I'm
curious. Shall we put your little theory to the test?”

The hanging man
screamed and bounced in his restraints as

Kane’s brother pulled
the trigger. The mountain man turned his head as the shotgun clicked.
It was empty. He lowered the gun and looked off into the distance,
“Well, it seems we’ve drawn a crowd,” he said giving the
mountain man a few taps on the forehead with the barrel, “Looks
like it’s your lucky day.”

The man twisted in his
bounds until he saw a small group of zombies walking toward them.
They were just a few hundred feet away.

“They’re coming
fast, my friend. You’re probably going to need your shotgun back.”
Kane’s brother laid the weapon on the man’s chest. If it’s all
the same to you, I think it’s time for my brother and me to skin
out. Good luck, kind sir. You'll need it.”

The man screamed as
Kane’s brother walked away, “Untie me and give me a chance, you
bastard!”

The brother paid no
heed. He climbed in the driver’s seat and started the engine. He
paused for a moment watching the horde approaching, then put the MRAP
in gear and stepped on the gas.

Daniels jumped out of
the SUV, lifted his rifle and put a round through a dead female’s
skull. She was continuing to step in the door, chasing the smell of
the living humans inside. She fell to the ground, and Daniels used
his foot to roll her corpse out of the way.

He heard Bunker call
out from inside the Tahoe, “You need any help, Corp?”

“I’m all set,”
Daniels called back, as he used the butt of his M4 to give three
knocks on the door.

Beck unlocked the door
from the inside and swung it open, “All clear, Corporal?”

“It’s clear, Beck.
Let’s get the kids in the car.”

Beck led Ceci by the
hand to the Tahoe, leaving his right hand free for his rifle.

Destiny and Kaden
followed close behind. Kaden was now supporting his own M4 and was
scoping the area while he moved.

“You know how to use
that?” Daniels asked.

“Yeah, Beck even let
me shoot it out the window. He says I’m a natural.”

“That’s good to
hear, another crack shot on the team.”

Kaden beamed as he
stepped into the Tahoe.

While they were
securing the vehicle, Beck and Kaden brought most of the weapons down
in the elevator and stacked them by the door. Daniels grabbed a
couple of the green metal ammo boxes. Each had NATO 5.56 stamped on
the side in yellow. They were heavy as hell.

Beck was already on his
second trip running back inside to get more ammo. Sawyer had the back
Tahoe doors open and was standing guard. Bunker stood on the hood of
the vehicle guarding the front.

Daniels turned to run
back to the building when he heard Bunker scream, “Runners!”

He started popping off
rounds, “There not stopping.”