pounded on the roof of the truck, leaned over to the open driver’s window, pointed, and yelled “CATCH THAT FUCKING PLANE!” Garcia nodded and slammed the gas pedal to the floor. The men in the bed of the truck gave up trying to engage any other threats and just grabbed ahold of the truck as tightly as they could to keep from being thrown out. The truck’s tires squealed in protest of the high-speed turn as Garcia pushed the truck from the taxiway onto the runway and slowed, the C-130 barreling towards them. Just before the nose of the plane rumbled by, the power and force of the plane shaking the truck, Garcia pinned the gas pedal to the floor and swerved behind the passing plane. The cargo tailgate of the C-130 stood open, nearly touching the tarmac speeding beneath it. Quickly the truck gained on the aircraft, closing the gap between the truck and the tailgate. With a jolt, the front tires of the truck bounced onto the ramp and the truck skidded to a halt in the cargo hold of the aircraft. The front bumper of the truck crashed against the forward bulkhead just as the plane leapt into the air, the cargo ramp closing behind them.
CHAPTER 19
Big Bend National Park
February 16, Year 1
“Buzzer, have the scouts returned?”
“No Prez, not yet.”
Russell sat on the back porch of the large westernmost cabin on the hill, overlooking the valley floor below and The Window. The sun was beginning to set behind the mountains, painting the sky shades of purple, pink, and red. The cabin contained ammo, food, and clothes folded neatly in the dresser drawers. The clothes appeared to have belonged to a man, woman, and a little girl, so Russell knew for sure that the man, woman and small boy that they found dead probably weren’t the only occupants of the cabins. The contents found two cabins over seemed to belong to the dead family. The large cabin between the two was the most interesting. It stored a significant amount of gear, including a large amount of venison jerky, water, ammo, and some sort of canvas tent besides a bunch of other gear. This was the club’s most incredible find since they’d raided the Army Reserve Station outside of El Paso, killing the men taking refuge there as well.
The Pistoleros fought their way across Texas, using zombies as a weapon, and it looked like they had a place they could stay for a long time, if not a permanent home. There was still a lot of work to be done, though. The club needed to find and take more girls and women. They needed booze and they needed some pharmacies. Pseudoephedrine in large quantities was hard to find in the middle of nowhere west Texas, and there was no way they could last long without the basic ingredients needed to cook more meth.
The sound of big V-twin motorcycles resonated off the valley floor and mountains around them, interrupting Russell’s list of instructions for Buzzer, who by default was the club’s new vice president.
“That should be the rest of the group and the women showing up now, Prez.”
Russell tossed his near-empty bottle of Shiner Bock over the edge of the porch to shatter against the other empty bottles on the desert floor below. Buzzer and Russell walked through the cabin and into the parking area as the returning party shut off their motorcycles.
“Well?” Russell asked, lighting a cigarette.
Mike, a young and recently patched club member, walked from his motorcycle to Russell. “We found Stinky. Some guy ran him over with an old Jeep, but Stinky killed the guy before he was hit.”
“Did you find any other bodies?”
“No, but there was an RV blown apart in the desert from the wreck. We didn’t look through that. The others were probably in there.”
Russell jabbed the cigarette into the corner of his mouth and stomped back into the cabin. He returned shortly holding a small pink shirt.
“Do you think the guy Stinky killed could have worn this fucking shirt, dumbass?”
“No, Prez.”
“Then get your ass
CHAPTER 19
Big Bend National Park
February 16, Year 1
“Buzzer, have the scouts returned?”
“No Prez, not yet.”
Russell sat on the back porch of the large westernmost cabin on the hill, overlooking the valley floor below and The Window. The sun was beginning to set behind the mountains, painting the sky shades of purple, pink, and red. The cabin contained ammo, food, and clothes folded neatly in the dresser drawers. The clothes appeared to have belonged to a man, woman, and a little girl, so Russell knew for sure that the man, woman and small boy that they found dead probably weren’t the only occupants of the cabins. The contents found two cabins over seemed to belong to the dead family. The large cabin between the two was the most interesting. It stored a significant amount of gear, including a large amount of venison jerky, water, ammo, and some sort of canvas tent besides a bunch of other gear. This was the club’s most incredible find since they’d raided the Army Reserve Station outside of El Paso, killing the men taking refuge there as well.
The Pistoleros fought their way across Texas, using zombies as a weapon, and it looked like they had a place they could stay for a long time, if not a permanent home. There was still a lot of work to be done, though. The club needed to find and take more girls and women. They needed booze and they needed some pharmacies. Pseudoephedrine in large quantities was hard to find in the middle of nowhere west Texas, and there was no way they could last long without the basic ingredients needed to cook more meth.
The sound of big V-twin motorcycles resonated off the valley floor and mountains around them, interrupting Russell’s list of instructions for Buzzer, who by default was the club’s new vice president.
“That should be the rest of the group and the women showing up now, Prez.”
Russell tossed his near-empty bottle of Shiner Bock over the edge of the porch to shatter against the other empty bottles on the desert floor below. Buzzer and Russell walked through the cabin and into the parking area as the returning party shut off their motorcycles.
“Well?” Russell asked, lighting a cigarette.
Mike, a young and recently patched club member, walked from his motorcycle to Russell. “We found Stinky. Some guy ran him over with an old Jeep, but Stinky killed the guy before he was hit.”
“Did you find any other bodies?”
“No, but there was an RV blown apart in the desert from the wreck. We didn’t look through that. The others were probably in there.”
Russell jabbed the cigarette into the corner of his mouth and stomped back into the cabin. He returned shortly holding a small pink shirt.
“Do you think the guy Stinky killed could have worn this fucking shirt, dumbass?”
“No, Prez.”
“Then get your ass
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