Zombie D.O.A. (44 page)

“Some folks won’t like leaving their homes, but other than Ray’s people, no.”

“What’s the deal with Ray’s people?”

“They won’t come in.”

“Do they realize what could happen to them?”

Yonder shrugged, “Ray won’t let anyone talk to them.”

“We’ve got to try though. Can I leave it with you?”

“I’ll give it a shot,” Yonder said.

“Okay so, with or without Ray’s people, we move everyone in here. The minute we get the signal from Cal, we move everyone, other than our shooters, into the Kimberly saloon, through the tunnel, the mine depot and into the mineshaft. I was hoping to walk the tracks, find a way through, just in case we need it, but it looks like we may be out of time.”

“No need to walk the tracks,” Cal said, “Getting through is easy. There’s five tracks, marked one to five. At each junction there’s a number painted on the rock face, showing which track you’re on, so as long as you follow the same number all the way through you can’t get lost. Track number two comes out on the north face, track three west, the other two kind of loop around joining them all together.”

“Thanks, Cal. That’s really useful. So we get everyone to track one, then if we need to move we split to track two at the first junction and follow it through.”

“That will do ya,” Cal said.

“Any suggestions on who we can get to lead the troops through?”

“June Dickens,” Yonder said, “She used to be a school teacher, takes no shit from anyone.”

“Fine. Last but not least we’ll have to decide who’s going to be in the shooting party. I originally thought twenty shooters, but that was always going to be a push. With Hooley’s Browning on board I figure we’ll get by with ten. We’ll need to find anyone who’s handled a firearm. No kids though, even if they were the high school skeet champion.”

“Well there’s us four for starters, and I’ll bet Alice has handled a gun before.” Yonder said.

“Count Cal out, he’ll be on the hill. There’s us three and Alice and of course Hooley. That makes five, we need five more.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Nate said. “This is Texas, after all.”

We broke up the meeting and Nate, Yonder and I went out to check on the preparations. Cal wanted to come too, but Yonder persuaded him to rest his leg.

In front of the town hall, Yonder had supervised the digging of the shallow trench I’d asked for. It was six inches deep and ran the length of the town hall. The trench was now filled with nails, bolts and other bits of scrap metal that had been brought from the mine store. Nearby, stood twenty bags of chemical fertilizer liberated from the grocery store.

While I was kneeling down to inspect Yonder’s handiwork, Giuseppe trotted up, stopped a few feet away and looked at me reproachfully. “Here boy,” I said, and after thinking about it for a moment he walked forward, licked my ear and lifted his leg. I moved just quickly enough to prevent my boots getting wet.

Next, we visited the office in the Kimberly saloon that gave access to the trapdoor and the tunnel beyond. Yonder showed us where two small holes had been punched through the floorboards. Two strands of fishing line had been run through the holes and attached to the underside of the mat.

Nate now went through the trapdoor and closed it.

“Okay, pull,” said Yonder and the mat flopped forward into place, hiding the trap.  I folded the mat back again and told Nate to pull. As before, the mat fell neatly back into place.  

“Good work, Yonder,” I said, and she shot me a smile.

We opened the trapdoor again descended the stairs to the boudoir and from there through the bureau and down the tunnel. At the end the old staircase had been demolished and a stepladder stood in its stead. We climbed the steps into the small room, then slid the secret panel back and were in Silver Jim’s office.

“Excellent work,” I told Yonder, and she positively beamed.               

I didn’t expect any attack to happen that night but still I thought it would be a good idea to post a watch. Nate, Hooley and I each took a two-hour shift on the upper porch of the Kimberly Saloon.  I pulled the four-to-six and sat with my new AK in my lap and Giuseppe by my side.

As I looked down on the sleeping town I was reminded of my early morning training runs in New York City, which was kind of ironic because back then I’d usually been preparing for a fight.  Here I was again, up before dawn, getting ready for battle.  I was sure that the fight would come this day and if it did, I knew we were ready as we could be. A lot could still go wrong of course but it wouldn’t be because of something we hadn’t thought of.

Whatever happened,
I
knew that
one way or another, I’d soon be leaving this place and it filled me with a peculiar melancholy. I felt strangely at home here, amongst these people I ba
rely knew, and I prayed that they, that all of us, would be okay.

As the sun cast its first light over the horizon, I saw Nate and Yonder cross the street and enter the Kimberly Saloon. I got up from my seat and went down to meet them.

By seven o’clock Cal was in position at his observation post on Pagan Hill, Yonder had hustled everyone into the town hall, and Hooley had mounted his Browning machine gun on a makeshift stand on the Kimberly’s upper porch. Fertilizer had been spread into the trench outside and the four sticks of dynamite had been placed with fuse wires running to the grocery store, directly to the right of the town hall.

Yonder made her last ditch attempt at convincing Ray to bring his people into the stockade, and was flatly refused and sent back with the message that they wanted no part in the massacre of innocent people, especially one instigated by a papist.

There were forty-two of us all told, Hooley and Jed Junior included. Yonder ran a poll of anyone with experience handling firearms and we ended up with twelve hands raised, selected eight of them and Hooley ran them through the basics of loading and firing the various weapons.

I made a call to Cal at about ten to eight, as much to check that the radio was working than for any other reason. “Hotter than July up here already,” Cal reported, “but not a whole lot going on.”

I promised Cal that I’d send someone to relieve him at eleven and ended the call. Almost, immediately Cal was on the line again.

“Chris, you still there?”

“Yeah, Cal?”

“We got riders comin’”

“How many?”

“Hard to tell, lot of dust out there. Wait one sec.”

The line went dead. “Chris?”

“I’m here.”

“Counted twenty eight riders.”

“Okay, Cal. Keep your head down.”

“Will do.” 

I got Yonder to send Jean Dickens on her way, guiding the townsfolk to safety, while I walked out onto the lawn and signaled to Hooley, on the Kimberly’s upper porch. Hooley had concealed himself behind a screen, and gave me a grin and a thumbs-up.

“Nate, you ready,” I called out, and Nate’s answer came from the shrubbery separating the grocery store from the town hall.

“Ready as rover,” Nate said.

“They’re coming,” I said speaking to both of them, “twenty eight, according to Cal. Could have been worse.”

I went back into the town hall, pulling the door shut behind me and locking it with a chain and padlock. Then I climbed the stairs to the upper floor where five of our shooters were in position. I was pleased to see that Yonder had briefed them and that they had already closed the shutters.

“Now remember,” I said, “the minute you hear the explosion, you push these shutters open and start firing, until then, stay well clear of the windows.”

I could now hear the sound of the approaching bikers, a low-pitched growl, getting ever closer. I’d punched a small hole through the shutter and had a good, if limited, view of the street. Out there I could see the two Harleys we’d taken from the Dead Men on their previous visit, and I hoped the lure would work, that they’d stop in front of the town hall to check them out. The sound of the motorcycles was louder now, and I knew they’d entered the town.

In the next moment I saw them make the turn into A Street, riding four abreast, Bear and his lanky friend in the front row. They saw the Harleys and stopped. One of the bikers came round to Bear and they got into a conversation. Bear was pointing to the town hall building, then to the church up ahead. The other biker was nodding and gesturing.

I took a deep breath, threw back the shutters and shouted, “Hey Bear, welcome back to Pagan.”

That stopped their conversation, but Bear didn’t seem to realize where the voice was coming from.  “Who’s that?” he shouted.

“Over here, dipshit” I yelled, waving my arms.

Now he spotted me and his face broke into a big grin. “So there you are,” he said. “I was beginning to think you dug yourself a hole somewhere. Pretty soon you’ll be wishing you had.”

Some of the bikers from the back were pulling around to get a look at what was happening. Most of them were now in the killing zone and I was wondering why the hell Nate hadn’t lit the fuse when I saw the thin flame start to snake its way across the lawn. It was important now that I kept their attention focused on me.

“You talk pretty good for a guy who got his ass whipped by a poodle. You tell your boys that? How my itty bitty little poodle bit your hand and how you cried for your mamma?”

“It wasn’t a poodle,” Bear said, half turning towards his men, “It was a big, mean dog. Could have been half wolf.”

“Poodle,” I insisted.

“Wasn’t,” Bear said, sounding like a first grader. “It was…oh, you’re gonna pay now motherfucker!” He started to bring the rifle round from behind his back, as the fuse reached the first stick of dynamite. I braced myself for the blast, moving away from the window and pushing my back against the wall. But the explosion never came.

“Show yourself motherfucker,” Bear shouted and fired off a burst. “Show yourself, for I’ll come in there and drag your cowardly ass…”

And then, from my left, I heard the clatter of Hooley’s Browning machine gun.  “Yee ha!” Hooley screamed, “Come get some!”

I stepped into the window and fired off a burst but there was really no need. The bikers were closely grouped and from Hooley’s elevated position, the belt-fed Browning exacted a heavy toll. The Dead Men were simply cut to pieces by the machine gun fire. They danced and fell like marionettes in some bizarre puppet show. A few of the Harleys were hit, and their gas tanks ruptured adding to the confusion.

Some of those furthest away managed to peel off and head back out the way they’d come. I hoped Nate had managed to loop around and lay out the tire spikes. Then I heard a collision and shots fired and I knew that he had.

Belatedly, the dynamite planted in the trench out front ignited and a massive blast rocked the building, cutting down any bikers still standing. It was all over in minutes and none of my shooters had even had to fire their weapons.     

“Yee ha!” I heard Hooley shout again, and this time those of us in the town hall joined in. There were cheers and hugs and high fives and tears of relief.

“Chris?” Cal’s voice spoke on the radio, “Chris you there,”

“Yeah Cal,” I answered, “We did it man, we fucking did it!”

“No you didn’t,” Cal said, “Get yourself the hell out of there. Get those people into the mine right now.”