“Grandpa!” Twila’s screech sent chills down his spine.
Luther dropped the camp stove. Gunshots shattered the desert’s deadly silence. Don’t tell me Dean ran into marauders way out here? Maybe a mountain lion or a wolfpack. That had to be it.
“I’m going for Dean.” Justin took off for the bridge.
“Wait up!” Luther warned. “I’m coming with you. And, we be taking it slow on that rickety thang.”
Scarlett crept to the edge of the bridge, eyeing through the M4’s scope. But Dean had made it past the bend in the bridge. There was nothing to see.
Luther re-shouldered his duffle. No time to take it off. “Scarlett,” he called out. “Hang back while we check it out.” She needed to protect the children. Ella wasn’t good with firearms. As for Mindy, he doubted she had ever fired one.
“Remember, follow Dean’s marks.” Luther stepped lightly onto the first blue X.
“Careful,” Ella’s panicky cry called out from behind.
Luther eyed the span for movement. That smell. He took a deeper whiff. The pungent stench clogged his nostrils. “Zs! They must be at the other end of the bridge.”
“Dean, we’re coming!” Justin darted off down the bridge, hopscotching along the X marks.
Luther had to take it easy, too much weight in one spot would send him overboard. “Whut!” The ground before him exploded. A battered fist busted through the plank he was about to step over. He was ready for it when the head poked through; he blew off the Z’s slimy head.
Justin hadn’t returned to help; he was too busy shooting at something. Luther followed the tracks around the bend in time to see an entire horde of X-strains climbing to the top of the bridge from below.
Warily, he selected his shots, pivoting in awkward angles, so Justin wouldn’t get hit by friendly fire.
In no time, they cleared the bridge. The question remained. How many more climbed the trestle’s labyrinth frame? And where the hell was Dean?
“Dean?” Justin’s high-pitched screams shrilled through the gorge.
Luther held his breath and waited for an answer while wiping away the sweat burning his eyes. “He must have crossed,” was all Luther could think. A piercing thought screamed at him. Had it been Twila? Without questioning, he took a knee. “Bro, cover me,” Luther bellowed. “Twila said he’s trapped under the bridge.”
A barrage of gunfire whizzed over his head just as he knelt down. “Good God Almighty! Missed me by inches.” He turned in time to witness the stinking nimrod pinwheeling down to the river. “Thanks,” Luther husked before sticking his head between the gap in the middle of the tracks—dreading what he might encounter.
“What’d you see?” Justin shouted.
“A bunch of old wood.” Once his eyes accustomed to the shadows—he saw them. Ten, twenty, thirty Zs, climbing the latticed-trestle.
He made eye contact with one three beams down. It glared back, hatred consuming it. One round in the arm caught it off balance. It splashed into the river.
A faint cough. “Dean?” Justin yelped out like a dog in heat.
Luther twisted toward the sound directly below. Dean’s crumpled body lie wedged in a spray of beams. “Found him!”
Justin rushed over. “Is he—dead?”
“Can’t be. He would have turned by now,” Luther speculated aloud while X-strains scaled the trestle. Zs didn’t have fear holding them back. Just insatiable hunger pushing them on. That was their superpower.
Justin ducked under the bridge. “He looks unconscious.” The undeniable panic in Justin’s voice told him they needed to bust ass; otherwise, Dean wasn’t making it. They had to haul him up before the rest of the horde figured how to get to them.
“Ye-ah! Splash! There goes another one,” Justin hooted in the madness.
Luther had to take off his duffle to get the rope he thought he would never use. His hands worked quickly. Before he knew it, he had tied a noose. He held it up to see if it would fit around Dean’s shoulders in time to catch Justin’s harried expression.
“Dude?”
Luther shrugged. “It’s what came to me.” He dropped the rope through the opening where Dean had fallen through. He dragged the rope over Dean’s face. “Dean—wake up!”
“Does it reach?” Justin shouted.
“Yup, but—” Someone had to go down there and slip the rope over his shoulders and under his arms. And Luther wouldn’t fit through the gap.
“Easy-peasy.” Justin never ceased to amaze him with his eagerness to take on impossible tasks.
“Hold on, take off your pack.” Luther grabbed the military paracord from his tactical vest. “In case you lose your footing.” He knotted one end around Justin’s belt.
Justin climbed down, nimble as he was, while Luther clenched onto the rope and paracord. He knew those stinking nimrods were close when his nose stuffed up again.
A rifle shot crushed his nerves. “Whut the—”
Scarlett rounded the bend with the gang at her heels. What the hell are they doing here? She cracked off another round. In his direction. Tensing, he glanced behind him. Three X-strainers teetered toward him. One tripped over its raggedy pants that had fallen to its knees. It careened over the edge. The next rifle blast sent the other one over. The tugging of the rope reminded him he had pressing priorities. Scarlett had it under control.
Or so he thought. The rifle’s dull misfire proved him wrong. He ignored whatever Justin was yelling and reached for his 9mm, only his tactical vest snagged on a shard of splintered wood. “Somebody—”
The X-strain howled to the sky before pouncing on its prey. Using brute force, Luther snapped off the shard. He backhanded the Z with it, sending the nimrod overboard.
“Dude, like pull him up already,” Justin pestered as if Luther had nothing better to do than twiddle his thumbs.
Luther pulled up the rope. Scarlett was suddenly by his side and together they maneuvered Dean’s dead weight through the gap
