Winchester: Over (Winchester Undead) by Dave Lund Read Free Book Online Page B

right, still traveling over one hundred miles per hour, and the plane began to roll, digging the left wingtip into the tarmac. The wing succumbed to the force of the strike and broke, causing the fuselage to roll while spraying fuel from the wing tanks. The fuel ignited on the still-running large General Electric turbofans, and as it continued rolling down the runway, Air Force One erupted in a large ball of fire.
     
    Mexia, Texas
     
    Bexar was exhausted. Jessie had woken him to switch places, and as he climbed on top of the Jeep’s roof, he cursed silently. Jessie quickly fell asleep, leaving Bexar to stare out into the darkness.
    He couldn’t see anything past the tie -down aircraft outside of their hangar, although there was a glow from the still-burning aircraft at the other end of the runway. Staring into the darkness, his eyes began playing tricks on him, seeing movement in the shadows where there was none.
    Climbing off the roof, Bexar found his small backpacking stove and pulled his worn Zippo lighter out of his pocket to light the stove. He’d quit smoking years ago, but had kept the lighter for sentimental reasons. Jessie had given him the custom-engraved lighter for their first anniversary. With the fuel tab lit, he poured some water into an old blue enamel camping cup and waited for the water to boil. Instant coffee tasted like instant coffee, but it was better than no coffee. Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, Bexar quickly turned, his rifle coming up instinctively towards the threat, safety thumbed off, only to find Keeley standing next to the Jeep, clutching her blanket.
    “ Hey baby girl, go get some sleep so we can enjoy our camping trip and our drive tomorrow. You might even get to see Will tomorrow afternoon.”
    Without a word, Keeley climbed back into the back seat of the Jeep and lay down. “I’m sorry the world is ending, we were just trying to build a nice life for you,” Bexar thought to himself. Climbing back onto the roof of the Jeep to continue watch, Bexar drank his burnt-tasting coffee, all the while fighting the fear of the dark and the pull of sleep.
    “ WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?”
    Bexar jerked awake, knocking over his blue coffee cup and sending it clattering to the hangar floor. Looking over the top of the tarp, he could see the sun coming up, and about a dozen people slowly shuffling from around the tied-down aircraft towards his hangar. How long was I asleep? he thought over and over. He was puzzled by the group of people until one of them moaned—it was a guttural animal moan, a call to feed, and Bexar shivered at the sound.
    “ Shit shit shit shit, Jess, damnit, toss everything in the Jeep, we’ve got to go! Give me a second and then drive off.” Stepping onto the hood of the Jeep, Bexar pulled the C-M Forge knife from his belt and cut the tarp down. Now with a clear view, he sat back on the roof rack, feet still on the hood of his truck, and raised his rifle, lining up his sight and squeezing the trigger. Left hand out on the end of his rifle, pulling against the LaRue FUG, Bexar stabilized the rifle and quickly drove the muzzle to the next threat as the back of the first undead’s head exploded outward from the energy of the Black Hills 55-grain bullet.
    Breath e, red-dot, squeeze, drive, breathe , Bexar continued his rhythm while Jessie started the Jeep and put it in gear. Breathe, red-dot, squeeze … nothing. Nothing happened. Bexar slapped the bottom of the magazine and brought his left hand up to pull the big Badger Latch to cycle his AR, but the bolt wouldn’t move. Bexar rolled the rifle to the left as he stood up on the hood and brought the rifle down to his side. Fuck, bolt over , ran through Bexar’s head as his right hand found the grip of the Kimber on his right hip. Well-practiced, he let the rifle hang on the sling to his left side and brought up his left hand to support the grip of his pistol. Taking aim at the next threat, there was suddenly