Winchester: Over (Winchester Undead) by Dave Lund Page B

milky, her skin already turning greenish-gray. A moan erupted from the very core of the woman that had once been his wife, and as it escalated into a bloodcurdling scream, Amber lunged at him, tearing a large chunk of flesh from his forearm with her teeth.
    “ WHAT THE FUCK AMBER!? AMBER–WHAT THE FUCK!?” screamed Malachi in pain and disbelief.
    He slammed on the brakes, nearly causing the trailer to come around the rig. By now his brain had absorbed the realization that Amber was obviously not alive. Opening the driver’s door, Malachi fell out of the Scout to the asphalt below. Amber thrashed through the interior, following her husband onto the roadway.
    He tried to draw the pistol on his right hip, but couldn’t get his right hand to work—Amber had severed the tendons and muscles in his forearm. Grabbing his belt with his left hand, he jerked it hard to the left, bringing the holster and pistol within reach of his left hand. Awkwardly drawing the pistol and having to rotate the grip by squeezing the pistol with his left hand, Malachi raised the XD Compact, focused on the front sight, and squeezed the trigger. Amber’s skull exploded backward, spraying the side of the Scout with bone and brain matter. Malachi collapsed onto the road and sobbed.

CHAPTER 17
     
     
    Cache Site near Maypearl, Texas
     
    As the sun’s edge disappeared below the western horizon, Jack and Bexar had finished the night watch rotation, each sitting watch for four hours. Sandra would start tonight’s watch, ending in the morning with Bexar, who was also responsible for stoking the fire’s coals and starting the morning’s coffee.
    Because of the added security, the group decided to use a fire and conserve the Coleman white gas. With the children put to bed and sleeping, the four friends wanted to stay up and chat, but the incredible stress of their cross-Texas trip and the strain of the night watch rotation took their toll, and all but Sandra went to their tents for the night.
    About two hours after the last blue light of dusk had slipped past the horizon, Sandra heard a vehicle approaching. It stopped out of sight in the distance, and then resumed driving towards their camp. Just before the headlights appeared around the trees, Sandra quickly and quietly woke the others. Wearing only what they had worn to bed, the group quickly dispersed into a hasty L-shaped ambush and waited for the approaching threat.
    The vehicle drove over one of the trip-wire alarms, firing a blank shotgun shell, the sound echoing into the night. Immediately the vehicle stopped, and extinguished the headlights. A door opened and closed in the darkness.
    Jack and Bexar, holding the front line, shone their rifle-mounted Surefire lights on the vehicle; it was Malachi driving the Scout. He was very pale and covered in blood; his right arm was bandaged, and blood could be seen seeping through the bandage.
    E xtinguishing the weapon lights and lowering the muzzles, Bexar and Jack called out to Malachi and walked up to him. Bexar tried to give Malachi a hug, but before he could Malachi fell to the ground, crying.
    Jessie and Sandra had come out of the woods on the passenger side of the Scout to find the vehicle empty, but there was a body wrapped in a camouflage poncho on top of the AT Chase trailer.
    Choking , Malachi sobbed, “She got shot. There was a sniper where we had stopped on the south side of Dallas. It was something big, hit her in the shoulder and blew out the entire back of her shoulder blade. I tried to help her, but it was too much. Just too much blood, I was trying to hold her hand and talk to her, but it was too much.” Then, holding up his right arm, bandage soaked through with blood, his right hand dangling lifeless, he said “She bit me!”
    “ Wait,” said Bexar, “your wound is from where she bit you?”
    “ Yeah, I can’t fucking believe it. She tried to come after me so I had to kill her.”
    “ Was Amber bit?”
    “ No, just shot. Fuck!