Dead South Rising: Book 1 (20 page)

Sammy, his hands on his knees and teetering, twisted his head to look back at Tom. He scowled, but bit back any verbal retort, attempting to show at least some semblance of gratitude toward the man who had opted not to kill him and Gills. At least not yet. Besides, the look said what was on his mind, anyway.

Tom smiled, shrugged. “Just trying to be helpful, fellas.” He took another drag off his cigarette.

Sammy stopped what he was doing and straightened. Parking his hands on his hips, he turned to face Tom, breathing heavy as if he’d just run a marathon. “If you wanted to be helpful, Doc, you could help us find the cuff keys.”

Tom patted the pistol at his side, smiling. “Right here.”

“Ha fucking ha.”

Then Tom waved him over to the tree.
 

On the other side of the pile, Gills stopped what he was doing and slowly straightened. He kept a wary eye on the two men, anticipating trouble.

Sammy cocked his head, distrust radiating from his gaze.

Tom held his hands out to his sides. “Now, Sammy. You can trust me. If I was going to kill you, I would have done it while you were the proverbial fish in the barrel.” He gave the trunk a good slap and grinned.

Sighing, Sammy moved cautiously toward Tom. Upon reaching him, he stood tall, staring down the man who had freed him.

“Nice hat,” Tom said.

Silence.

“Not as nice as mine, but nice nonetheless.”

Silence. And a glare.

Tom gestured him to come closer. “Let me see your wrist.”

Hesitantly, Sammy obliged.

A smirk and a snicker crossed Tom’s lips as he took Sammy’s wrist into his own hand. “I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Fuzzy and pink. How bawdy.”

Sammy rolled his eyes and sighed. “You gonna wave your hand and magically make them drop—”

The cuff clicked off and dropped to the ground.

Sammy stared disbelievingly from his wrist, to the opened cuff, and back.

“Your other wrist, please, sir.”

Tom thumbed the release lever buried in the fur adorning the cuff. It sprang open. Holding the fuzzy shackle in front of Sammy, he smiled. “Problem solved. May we go now?”

“How did you know?”

“An educated guess.” He took a few steps toward the pasture, then stopped to light up again. Mumbling through the cigarette, he added, “Me and the missus enjoyed a little light-hearted subjugation in the bedroom now and again.” He pinched the cigarette, smiled wide, then plugged it between his teeth with a wink.
 

It was a good show for Sammy and Gills, this extrusion of self-confidence and sangfroid. But inside, his rage seethed. Mentioning his wife equated to a boiling tsunami hitting the shore. He’d need to be careful with his thoughts and words.

“Why the fuck didn’t you take an ‘educated guess’ sooner?” Sammy turned and started walking toward Gills. Pointing to his own wrist, he said, “Fucking lever, Gills. Under the fuzzy shit.”

Gills just shook his head, muttered, “Son of a bitch.”

“Gentlemen,” Tom said, motioning the way back to the house. “I must insist. Time’s a wasting.” There was a restlessness in his tone that he could not hide.

Sammy started that direction, then stopped and stared down at his brother, chin in his hand.

Tom observed him with great vigilance. He had, after all, just killed the man’s brother. He kept his hands on the butts of his pistols, fingers tapping anxiously, ready to draw the moment things went south. He was afraid that he’d end up killing the two men before they’d have the chance to help him visually identify his wife’s killers.

Finally, Sammy said, “You know, it should have been me.” Now that he had his hat back, his face was hard to read, hiding in the brim’s shadow.

But Tom could see the man’s jaw clenching. Something was going on inside him, and Tom needed to be sure he maintained control of the potentially volatile situation. He needed them. But they didn’t need him. Not any longer.

At the risk of a scalding vilification from Sammy, Tom said, “I apologize. I was quite caught up in the moment, you see.”

Sammy twisted his head, glared at Tom. “No, you ain’t hearing me.”

Tom blinked at him. “Why, do tell. I’m all ears.”

“It should have been me. I should have been the one to pull the trigger. It should have been me punching his ticket to hell.”

Tom played his poker face, showing no surprise either way. But he had to admit, this newfound nugget of information intrigued him, could be an ace in the hole for him. He listened, despite near unbearable impatience to get moving.

After a heavy sigh, Sammy said, “Me and Gills. Came here to finish a job.” He palmed his cowboy hat, placing it over his heart. “Poor Mitch was in over his head.”

Gills sidled up to Sammy.

Sam continued. “Thought I was doing him a favor, getting him involved with our … business … when his army career hit the shitter. But me and Gills, we work … worked … for some dangerous hombres down Rio Bravo way. Should have known better. Mitch got scared for his life. Didn’t know what to do … panicked. Took off with some merchandise he had no business taking off with.”

Gills chimed in. “Hid it somewhere out here, on his place.”

“Buried it, most likely.” Sammy replaced his hat to his balding head.

Gills nodded at Sammy. “Yeah. Thought we wouldn’t track him down here. Gringo estúpido.”

Sammy said, “We were on our way when this whole dead cannibal bullshit went down. Was near Corpus when a boatload of those undead fuckers sailed up on some cruise ship. Quite a sight, we was told.”

Gills interjected, “Live ones trying to outrun ‘em.”
 
His chuckle was like rock on rock. “Ain’t that hard, slow as those motherfuckers move.”

Back to Sammy, “I think so many folks caught whatever’s going around because they underestimated the cannibals. Can outrun ‘em if you walk fast enough. But get in the middle of a pack … may as well call it a life.”

Tom said, “Sounds as though I just saved you gentlemen some work.”

Sammy looked at him. “Not so fast, Doc. We still don’t know where the merchandise is. I’d planned on killing him
after
we found out where it was. We think it’s out here somewhere.” He scanned the property. “But now thanks to you …”

“Understood. Again, my apologies for prematurely offing your brother. Now I must insist—”

“Step-brother.”

“Oh?”

Sammy kneeled beside Mitch’s body, looking up at Tom. He grinned nice and wide. “See? Not much of a resemblance.”

Gills said, “Probably more of one now since ‘ole Doc blew his face off.”

Chuckling, Sammy stood. “Known him all my life, so we considered ourselves brothers. We’re both assholes, so folks automatically thought we was related. Never got on, though. A shame.”

“Touching story. But I must implore we get going, gentlemen. A mutual enemy is on the move, and I made a deal with Old Scratch this evening that I’m inclined to keep.”

Gill’s lips went tight, his fu-manchu bristling. “I think the doctor’s right. Merchandise ain’t going nowhere. And I’d like to see that motherfucker suffer.”

Sammy nodded, thumbing his chin. “Guess the merchandise can wait. Come back for it later. I’ve got a bit of revenge fever, myself, anyway.”

Tom smiled, happy to hear the men were on board, and more importantly, less of a threat than he had originally anticipated. He could envision a prosperous partnership developing. Maybe even one that would extend beyond his mission of non-mercy in the name of Kate Mackey.

And if not, these men would meet Mitch’s fate. He had no misgivings about making it happen, either.

It was something in the way Bryan had said it that threw David’s rationale into a tailspin. Initially, he felt good about his decision to leave those men shackled to that tree. They were dangerous, full of foul intent. He knew it, believed it, and therefore had acted without compunction. Those men were going to do bodily harm to one of them—or all of them. He’d done the right thing. He’d protected his family.

But he couldn’t fend off pangs of guilt at how he’d handled them, treating them like dangerous junkyard dogs. Randy had questioned him, more than once, on his actions. But the big man was naïve and sensitive. Though come to think of it, in those kinds of situations, David typically was, too. He’d done what he thought was right at the time. Now he wondered if he shouldn’t turn around and undo the immutable.

Right,
Bryan had said,
because we should always do the right thing.

And just what was the right thing? Chaining two troublemakers to a tree, leaving them to their own shrewd devices? A possible, though unlikely, chance of escape?
He’d set it up nicely, could still see the fear on the two men’s faces even though they’d tried to play the macho card. The dead pig was a nice touch, attracting the dead to distract them from thought, instill a terror-filled sense of urgency. The crowning move was throwing the handcuff and padlock keys onto the carcass.

Good luck, boys. Have fun with that. Better hurry before a shuffler swallows them. I wonder if shufflers shit? Gonna have to wait awhile.

It bothered David just how much he had delighted in the depraved act, his actions and conscience unfettered by guilt. He didn’t think himself a bad guy. No one ever thought that about themselves. These new dark days forced his hand in ways he never dreamed. He was only doing what he had to do.

I did the right thing. I did the right thing. Did I do the right thing?

Yes. He had derailed duplicitous intent. This was Mitch’s brother, after all. Two peas in an insidious pod. Hell, he’d planned to kill Mitch that very morning, end the man’s life.

And start a dead one.

He shook that last thought from his head.
 

Got to focus
.

So what was the difference? Still, the image of Sammy and Guillermo cuffed to that tree … the section of chain-link wrapped around them …

Mitch will free them. He’ll turn them loose. You’re worrying about nothing. Shufflers can’t get to them. Not easily, anyway. If anything, you should be getting as far away as you possibly can, because once they’re free, the dogs will be on the hunt…

Bryan’s words echoed again, David’s conscience batting them around like a racquetball. He’d had time to ponder on the porch afterwards and while driving. His gut told him not to go back, to stay far away. His rebelling brain and contrite heart were in cahoots, two against his gut, and his gut was conceding.

The feelings of dominance, of bloated confidence bordering on assholish arrogance, of invincibility—they were all fading so fast, so incredibly fast. It was like a drug high, and he was crashing NASCAR-hard. He needed those feelings, lest he fail his new family like he had failed his old one. These people, his nascent family, needed him to be strong. To protect them. To do the right thing.

Shit.

He pulled his foot from the accelerator, and the truck gurgled fumes loudly, stack-pipes backfiring and spitting their protest. Even the Dodge disagreed with what he was about to do.

“What is it? Did you see something?” Randy seemed jumpy and nervous. David wondered if the man was reading his mind all along.

“Going back.”

Randy’s eyes grew wide behind his thick glasses. “What? Why?”

David didn’t answer as he focused on turning the truck around.

Randy inquired again. “Why, David? Did you forget something back there?”

After a heavy sigh, David said, “What we did—what
I
did—back there … I’m not sure that I could live with myself …” He muscled the vehicle, trying to get it redirected without stranding them in the steep ditch.

“But Mitch is there. He’ll turn them lose.”

David worked the stick and clutch. “We don’t know that for sure, Randy. Could have been overtaken by shufflers before he made it down the hill.”

“He had his shotgun—”

Anger touched David’s tone. “
Randy
… we don’t know for sure.” After straightening the dually, he said, “I just … I had some time to think about it. I want to be sure y’all are safe, that’s most important. But I can’t …” He finished his statement shaking his head.

“David, I see where you’re coming from, I really do. I questioned what we were doing, too. And I know I questioned you, more than once about it. But what’s done is done. We should leave well enough alone.” He looked out the passenger window at the darkness now zipping by. “Besides, you gave them a more than fair chance of getting away, even if Mitch didn’t make it to them. Anyway, if they can’t figure out those novelty cuffs, then … well maybe they don’t deserve to live. Thinning of the herd, you know?”

It was a harsh statement for Randy. David had considered this last point, but hearing Randy vocalize it so he could hear it … Maybe Randy was right. What if they went back and Sammy and Gills were gone? Worse yet, what if they were there, waiting on them? No doubt the men were seething, their tempers as torrid as the Texas summer. Probably shoot him on the spot. Should have taken their guns, not left them in the trailer. A lapse in judgement.

Something pushed him forward, though.

Turn right, because we want to do the right thing.

The right thing.

“David, look. I don’t agree with what you did. Okay? But it’s done, man. Just chalk it up to experience. We’ll handle things differently next time.”

Next time.

David kept his eyes forward.

Randy pinched nervously at his beard. “If we go back there, those guys are going to kill us for what we did. And I’m not being metaphorical. They will
kill us dead
. Do you hear me?”

Bryan spoke up from the back. “Men are going to kill us?”

David gave Randy a scolding look.

See what you’ve done? You’ve upset Bryan.

“No one’s going to kill us, Bry. Try to sit back and rest, okay? We’ve got a long drive.”

“Did we turn around? Are we going back?”

“I forgot something. Just going back for a minute. Then we’ll be back on the road.”

“What about that mean man on the motorcycle? Won’t he hurt us? I don’t want Charlie to get hurt.”