close.”
CHAPTER 12
Terlingua, Texas
February 14, Year 1
Across the parking lot from the small hotel room where Bexar had left his still unconscious wife and his daughter stood the hotel office. Leaning against a low stone wall next to the building was a wheelbarrow. Bexar jogged across the parking lot, righted the wheel barrow, and moved quickly to the wrecked Jeep and destroyed RV. Reaching the Jeep, Bexar quickly began loading the wheel barrow with the meager supplies they had escaped with from Big Bend.
After returning to the hotel room with the first load, Bexar dumped the wheelbarrow outside the door. He looked at the zombies he had killed moments before and realized that one of them didn’t look too bad, like he was a freshly turned walker. With a new idea, Bexar hefted the corpse and dumped him into the wheelbarrow before returning to the Jeep. Out of breath but scared to be caught in the open if the bikers came looking for their missing club member, Bexar dumped the corpse by the driver’s door of his Wagoneer. He then lifted the corpse into the front seat, put the seat belt on him and let him slump over the steering wheel before bending the damaged door closed.
Bexar hoped that if he was lucky and if someone found the wreck, they would assume that he was dead behind the wheel and leave it at that. It might give him the chance to hide his family. Two more trips with the wheelbarrow later, everything the family had to survive with was off the road and in their tiny hotel room.
Opening an MRE, Bexar gave Keeley the cracker and the brownie, which finally helped slow his daughter’s crying into weak sobs while she ate. Bexar wet a towel with the water left in the tank of the toilet in the bathroom and started wiping the drying blood off his wife’s face. Bexar worried about what to do. If she had any serious injury or even just a minor internal injury there were no hospitals left and no doctors, and if she died, Bexar wasn’t sure he would be brave enough to put his wife down. He would end up like Malachi. Bexar looked at Keeley, who with a full stomach was playing with the TV remote quietly on the floor, and smiled. He had to survive. Keeley needed him to survive.
“Don’t worry, little one, I’ll always be here for you.” Bexar kissed his daughter on her head and was greeted with a sweet smile. Bexar thought of the world she would be forced to grow up in. The smile broke his heart.
Faintly, Bexar heard the low rumble of motorcycles. He leapt out of his chair, picked up his AR-15, and carefully pulled the corner of the curtain open to peer outside. The rumbling exhaust note of the motorcycles grew louder and Bexar realized he was holding his breath. He forced himself to take a deep breath and to try to keep his heart rate under control.
The seconds felt like they slowed to hours as the sound of motorcycles drew closer and they finally appeared in Bexar’s view. Two motorcycles slowed as they approached the wreck and appeared to stop by the motorcycle parked on the shoulder. The hotel’s office mostly blocked the view. A van pulled up behind the motorcycles and Bexar recognized it as the same one the biker gang had in the Basin, the one with the big machine gun. Two men climbed out of the van and joined the other two, who had dismounted their motorcycles. Two of the men carried the dead biker and put him in the back of the van; another carried the damaged AR-10 rifle and put it with the body in the van. Bexar couldn’t be sure what they were doing, but after a few minutes the motorcycles started with a roar and rode off back the way they’d come, followed by the van and one of their men riding the dead biker’s motorcycle.
Bexar continued to watch out of the window for a full minute after they rode out of view and realized he was holding his breath again. With a loud sigh, he left the window and sat on the edge of the bed. He took his unconscious wife’s hand in his and said, “Jessie,
CHAPTER 12
Terlingua, Texas
February 14, Year 1
Across the parking lot from the small hotel room where Bexar had left his still unconscious wife and his daughter stood the hotel office. Leaning against a low stone wall next to the building was a wheelbarrow. Bexar jogged across the parking lot, righted the wheel barrow, and moved quickly to the wrecked Jeep and destroyed RV. Reaching the Jeep, Bexar quickly began loading the wheel barrow with the meager supplies they had escaped with from Big Bend.
After returning to the hotel room with the first load, Bexar dumped the wheelbarrow outside the door. He looked at the zombies he had killed moments before and realized that one of them didn’t look too bad, like he was a freshly turned walker. With a new idea, Bexar hefted the corpse and dumped him into the wheelbarrow before returning to the Jeep. Out of breath but scared to be caught in the open if the bikers came looking for their missing club member, Bexar dumped the corpse by the driver’s door of his Wagoneer. He then lifted the corpse into the front seat, put the seat belt on him and let him slump over the steering wheel before bending the damaged door closed.
Bexar hoped that if he was lucky and if someone found the wreck, they would assume that he was dead behind the wheel and leave it at that. It might give him the chance to hide his family. Two more trips with the wheelbarrow later, everything the family had to survive with was off the road and in their tiny hotel room.
Opening an MRE, Bexar gave Keeley the cracker and the brownie, which finally helped slow his daughter’s crying into weak sobs while she ate. Bexar wet a towel with the water left in the tank of the toilet in the bathroom and started wiping the drying blood off his wife’s face. Bexar worried about what to do. If she had any serious injury or even just a minor internal injury there were no hospitals left and no doctors, and if she died, Bexar wasn’t sure he would be brave enough to put his wife down. He would end up like Malachi. Bexar looked at Keeley, who with a full stomach was playing with the TV remote quietly on the floor, and smiled. He had to survive. Keeley needed him to survive.
“Don’t worry, little one, I’ll always be here for you.” Bexar kissed his daughter on her head and was greeted with a sweet smile. Bexar thought of the world she would be forced to grow up in. The smile broke his heart.
Faintly, Bexar heard the low rumble of motorcycles. He leapt out of his chair, picked up his AR-15, and carefully pulled the corner of the curtain open to peer outside. The rumbling exhaust note of the motorcycles grew louder and Bexar realized he was holding his breath. He forced himself to take a deep breath and to try to keep his heart rate under control.
The seconds felt like they slowed to hours as the sound of motorcycles drew closer and they finally appeared in Bexar’s view. Two motorcycles slowed as they approached the wreck and appeared to stop by the motorcycle parked on the shoulder. The hotel’s office mostly blocked the view. A van pulled up behind the motorcycles and Bexar recognized it as the same one the biker gang had in the Basin, the one with the big machine gun. Two men climbed out of the van and joined the other two, who had dismounted their motorcycles. Two of the men carried the dead biker and put him in the back of the van; another carried the damaged AR-10 rifle and put it with the body in the van. Bexar couldn’t be sure what they were doing, but after a few minutes the motorcycles started with a roar and rode off back the way they’d come, followed by the van and one of their men riding the dead biker’s motorcycle.
Bexar continued to watch out of the window for a full minute after they rode out of view and realized he was holding his breath again. With a loud sigh, he left the window and sat on the edge of the bed. He took his unconscious wife’s hand in his and said, “Jessie,
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