For Which We Stand: Ian's road (A Five Roads To Texas Novel Book 3) Read online

  For Which We Stand

  A Five Roads to Texas Novel

  Joseph Hansen

  Formatted by

  Sara Jones

  Illustrated by

  AJ Powers

  Contents

  For Which We Stand

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Also by Joseph Hansen

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  About the Author

  _________________________________

  Sixth Cycle

  The Invasion Trilogy

  Dead Island: Operation Zulu

  INVASION OF THE DEAD SERIES

  Whiskey Tango Foxtrot

  Zed’s World

  Grudge

  The Path of Ashes

  As the Ash Fell

  Human Element

  This book was formatted by

  Copyright

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s

  imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons,

  living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Notice: The views expressed herein are NOT endorsed by the United States Government,

  Department of Defense, Department of the Navy, or the Department of the Army.

  Copyright © 2018 by Phalanx Press

  For Which We Stand

  A Five Roads to Texas Novel

  JOSEPH HANSEN

  Chapter One

  Beaumont Army Medical Center, El Paso, Texas April 24th

  Ian liked to lead from the front, but Toby simply didn’t allow it. He didn’t slow one iota when they burst out the front door of the clinic and rushed for the gate. They stopped running behind a conglomeration of posts, where several fences met, and surveyed the intersection. It was filling up fast with infected. Those who weren’t infected fought or ran, and there was no in between. You were either feeding or being fed upon.

  There was a group of healthy people rushing into an alley down the street, pursued by ten of the bastards who were much faster and never tired. Ian didn’t have much hope for them, and it reinforced their need to get back to the truck on the double.

  “Hey Boss, that HEMTT should be keyless,” Kinsey said and gave her head a nod toward a new-age transport truck in fresh Homeland black.

  “We got to get back to the truck; that thing will draw them in. Those canvas sides will hold some off, but it’s too exposed for my tastes. We need our own truck and its gear. It will be cramped with six, but we’ll make do,” Ian shouted back, not wanting to get bogged down with a vehicle they knew nothing about.

  “Ram and I will take that and clear the way for you. Or you can ride in back,” Jesse said.

  “Yeah, it’s not like there isn’t enough fuel out there, and a big truck running interference could be good for us right now,” Toby added, and he was right; the one thing they had no problem finding was fuel. Between station stores and abandoned tanker trucks, it was sitting right on the interstate in abundance.

  “All right, go,” Ian said, trying to count the times his orders were countermanded. That’s the biggest difference between a private security company and the military. His people were civilians and could walk at any time, which emboldened them to making some of their own decisions in life-or-death situations. He had tried to drill it out of them, but it was never going to take. Jose was probably the closest he had to a real soldier, and even he would make adjustments to Ian’s plans and ideas.

  “I’ll play shotgun,” Jose said and followed the two.

  Toby cracked open a skull with his baton, and Ian held his shot because even a suppressed rifle can attract attention. They were still using the FN SCAR H they were originally assigned—at least until they got back to the truck, where heavier stores were locked up. The downside was the 7.62 high-velocity rounds drew a little more attention than the smaller 5.56, and they couldn’t carry as many due to size and weight. So when an infected lurched for Ian, instead of shooting, he kicked it in the knee, stopping its progress before driving it to the ground with a spinning elbow to the back of its neck. Ian didn’t feel the telltale snap of the spine, so he stomped on the infected to make sure it was not going to continue to be a threat.

  When Ian heard the big diesel engine fire up, he was ready to run. Their spot behind the fence post wasn’t going to protect them from view for much longer, as every head turned toward the rumbling engine of the HEMTT not thirty feet away.

  He started pushing the heavy traffic gate to roll it open. “Kinsey, help me with the gate. Bastards installed it wrong, so we have to lift.” Then he added, “Toby… watch our backs.”

  Toby looked at Ian and shook his head in exasperation before walking toward the gate, weapon hanging in its sling. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He lifted the sagging gate and threw it four feet until it balanced on the rollers and kept sliding. His expression was one of disgust when he turned back to the others, but they all knew he got off on such displays of physical prowess.

  The truck came through the gate with Jose holding his rifle out the passenger window. The trio stayed low as they jogged alongside, using the truck as a screen from the bulk of the infected. They moved well for the first short block, not even having to fire a shot. It was when they came to the first corner that Ian realized their arrival over four hours ago had drawn infected by the score, and they were still here. There were no uninfected in view, and the street was crawling with people.

  “Slow up so we can hop in the back,” Ian said, knowing they were now beyond the point of perimeter security; it was run-and-gun time.

  They hopped on piles of unopened gear and boxes stacked almost to the canvas ceiling secured with layers of cargo netting and straps. It was great to hold on to, but it also kept them close to the canvas top and gnashing teeth and nails of hundreds of infected just beyond that thin piece of material.

  Rifle and ammo boxes of several sizes made up the base of the pile, with more valuables on top. All were without distinct labels, meaning they were not written in English. “Chinese,” Ian said to Toby and pointed at one of the boxes.

  “Hangul,” he replied.

  “What?”

  “Hangul.” He pointed at some of the characters. “Korean, North and South.”

  “How did you know that?” Kinsey mocked him.

  “Ivy League, remember?”

  Ian heard the transfer box kick in and felt the telltale drag of all four axels engaging as Jesse adjusted the traction setting. This HEMTT was a nice ride for this kind of crap, but they had become comfortable with the semi-style railroad truck they had stolen back in Talladega, and Ian liked the little bulldog on the hood. This beast
was carrying a lot of weight, and the engine whined, which is typical for a diesel until they are nice and warmed up.

  Ian wondered why it and the other vehicles were left unguarded but then remembered there were guards at the medical center—were being the operative word. He assumed some got out and ran off to somewhere where the war was a little more comprehensible. And the others… the others would soon be like these, as sizable chunks of their flesh had undoubtedly been ripped from their bodies by now. Ian wished there was something he could do about it, but it was going to take all they had just to cover their own asses on the way out.

  Based on the intensified hunger screams outside, Ian knew the infected had seen the truck. For now, they were focused on the people inside the cab, confirming the infected didn’t see the trio slip into the back. Jesse drove the truck through the masses at a crawl, relying on weight and traction more than speed, which was smart, especially being in the cab. Ian’s rifle was hooked in its sling, and he had the 1911 that he had acquired from Deena’s pack in his right hand as his left clutched the netting. He saw Toby and Kinsey in a similar stance as they waited for the first of the infected to discover them.

  The automatic transmission shifted, and the truck started to accelerate to a speed above a fast jog but not beyond the speed of a sprinter, which is what these creatures seem to turn into as soon as they see healthy people. They had barely gone half a block before the first infected spotted them in the back, and their renewed screams sounded out.

  The first one that came into view pumped her arms back and forth like a professional sprinter about to set a personal record. The thirty-something, overweight woman started to reach out for the tailgate but was pulled down from behind as two who were faster rolled over her. They were almost on the tailgate, fingers outstretched when the transmission shifted into the next gear, causing a temporary slowdown during the exchange. One smashed face-first into the tailgate, destroying most of her teeth and nose before falling hard to the asphalt. Her legs curled stiffly up and over her head, creating several reverse face-plant somersaults. The man, who was built like a linebacker, leaped at just the right time to land in a clutching pose on the top of the tailgate. Kinsey shot him through the head as Toby kicked its hand off the back.

  The truck started to pull away from the masses with the exception of one, who must have been an Olympian when he was healthy; his running form was flawless. Other than a missing nose and half his cheek, he looked no worse for wear. Kinsey blasted him before he even got close, knowing his athleticism could have wreaked havoc inside the truck box.

  They approached the alley to the parking lot behind the burnt-out husks of what were once massive project housing facilities. Now the buildings stood as hollowed-out brick facades, fire having rendered them to mere windbreaks—except they would likely topple over with a strong enough wind.

  Jesse pulled past the alley, and they hopped out, seeing only a couple of infected down the path. They advanced and Jesse backed the HEMTT across the mouth, completely cutting off the city of infected on their tail.

  Still concerned about the pursuing mass of infected, Ian spoke into his mic. “Jose, fire and draw them off. We’ll catch up. Don’t let them swarm you, and you should be fine until we’re out.”

  “Copy.” Jose started blowing holes in the crowd with his 12-gauge Mossberg.

  The bulk hadn’t arrived yet, so Jesse waited until she had their full attention before slowly pulling away. Rifle and handgun reports spun Ian back to his own situation at hand. Toby was advancing down the alley at a dead run on the outside edge, a bad tactic for someone who was worried about return fire. But against infected, it gave just a little more space between you and them when rounding a corner.

  Kinsey held back a bit, stretching to see into the parking lot and that their vehicle was still secured. They had spent almost four hours inside the medical center, and in this world, anything could happen. The doors were locked, however, and the windows were very hard to break… if not unbreakable.

  Toby would clear the way while Kinsey looked for the opening, and Ian would watch her back.

  “Seven, scattered, four more at the rear of the truck. Shit! Two live ones in the back of the rig,” Toby said.

  “Armed? Military? Male? Intel!” Ian was practically shouting into his mic. This was the worst-case scenario, coming back and finding squatters on your equipment.

  “Kids.” Kinsey’s voice softened as she replied, seeing the carnage around the truck. The children hadn’t been alone when they got here.

  “Orphans,” Toby added and waited for Ian’s response.

  Ian suddenly felt like he was on trial, with a lot riding on the outcome. Great, another make-or-break situation. “Fuck! Put them in the back seat so Ivy League can babysit. Kinsey, follow me; when you get an opening take it. Use the remote and start the engine now.”

  The sound of the engine turning over distracted the infected, giving Ian’s group the upper hand. Ian cleared four out of Kinsey’s path before she made her move to the door of the vehicle. Toby took care of the back side leading up to the rear of the truck, where two preteens were kicking everything that grabbed at them. Neither Toby nor Ian had qualms killing the infected, so it was a matter of a few properly placed rounds, and they would be leaving El Paso behind.

  “Let’s go, children, the park closes at sundown.” The kids looked at Toby like he was crazy then he motioned toward the truck with his head. They hesitated for another second before climbing down and into the back seat of the crew cab semi. Kinsey was already at the helm as Ian cleared out two, who were on the blind side of the vehicle, before taking shotgun.

  “Buckle up, we’ll get you something to eat as soon as we get out of town.” Toby turned to Ian and pointed above his head. “Riding up top until we’re clear, boss.”

  Into his mic, Ian addressed his team member in the other vehicle. “Jose, we’re rollin’. Take the Fred Wilson north until you can work your way on to the railroad heading northwest. Go eight miles to the water treatment plant. Copy?”

  “Roger,” Jose answered.

  Toby had to plug a couple runners that got close, but as the truck had proven on every occasion, there wasn’t much the infected could do to them. He wanted to ride up top so he could see what was going on in the city. There were supposed to be millions of people there barricaded behind shipping containers, but he couldn’t see where. He saw places that looked like checkpoints, and helicopters protected trails of healthy people as they trekked their way across intersections to get out of the city, but Toby doubted they would make it much farther.

  He could see efforts to lead or guide infected away from the walking with trucks and loud music as well as living bodies acting as decoys but how long they could keep that up he didn’t know. He didn’t think that they could do it for long though.

  Toby was on such a massive adrenaline rush after the events in the med center that his arms and legs were shaking. He wanted to burn it off somehow. Feeling like he just slammed an eight-pack of Red Bull in this setting was probably not conducive toward a long life, but all he could do was ride. They were out, and El Paso could kiss his ass good bye. They would fight, but only where they knew they had a chance to survive and keep fighting. Ian was good like that, which was why Toby loved working for him. It was never about ego or personal gain; it was about getting the job done and keeping alive.

  He saw a small car pull away from a checkpoint, and he decided to plug a couple of infected that had slipped through, having also spotted the car. Four shots and two dead infected later, the car stopped. A woman stepped out and looked at him standing up on the back of their rig. She was cute. Her short hair was a mess, and she looked like she could use a shower—but who didn’t look that way right now?

  He didn’t know if it was his adrenaline or the attraction he felt for this slight-figured woman who had caught his eye, but he wanted her to know… what? What did he want her to know? He wanted her to know that people were stil
l fighting, and this battle wasn’t over. The American spirit lived on in him and his people.

  Hope is alive and well.

  He held his rifle out like it was the biggest dick ever and stroked it like a kid at a cheerleader competition. He saw her turn her head away in disgust. Then she looked back at him and smiled, and he knew she got it. They were the fighters and it was people like the two of them who were going to make a difference.

  He gave her a wink and a nod as they passed from view. Then he slipped in through the window to ride in air-conditioned comfort once again.

  Ian pulled out his map to find the nearest safe house location. He was hoping for six or eight places where they could hang their hats for a day or two and develop a plan of some sort. Pulling out the document, he discovered there were over a hundred locations—color coded. On a hunch he flipped to a map they had of the North American continent and gasped at how many labeled sites throughout the United States, Canada, and Mexico there were.

  Ian almost stumbled in his reply when he noticed his own facility marked in bright red on their road map. It was official then; he had set up a fuel depot for the people who caused this whole mess, but why… what did they want?