The Necromancers of Santa Muerte (Part II)

"Texas Rangers Badge" by Calsidyrose is licensed under CC by 2.0

After several minutes of walking down the stairs, the two Rangers finally reached the gourd floor. They hopped in Roberts’ pick-up truck and began the drive to the border. The traffic was all going away from the border, leaving the blue pick-up as the only vehicle going southbound.

“Not enough traffic over there,” said Roberts as he absent-mindedly fingered the rosary around his beck, “it needs to be busier. The spirit of fierce independence that makes this state great, may spell the doom of those who stay behind. This threat is bigger than most realize.”

“Report Ranger Roberts,” squawked a feminine voice from the radio on his shoulder.

“We are heading to the Laredo border crossing to try to hold the tide. Northbound traffic is heavy, but not as heavy as it ought to be. Anticipate many people attempting to hold out at home.” As if to prove Roberts’ point, James saw a couple of families grilling on their back lawn, with each member of the family carrying a firearm.

“Do you have confirmation of the horde bearing down on Laredo?” asked the voice on the radio.

“Negative Ranger Command. Just a hunch. Deputy Swift and I are setting up at the border to watch and secure the area. If we don’t secure it now, by the time we have confirmation, it will be too late. Can you get the National Guard for backup?”

“No can do. Outbreaks of Santa Muerte activity in Dallas, Houston, and San Antonio have the Guard all tied up. Even the military is helping out. You’re on your own for now.”

After hearing those words, the old Ranger pulled over. He closed his eyes while he took the well-worn cowboy hat off his head and held it over his heart. He bowed his head for a moment before replying.

“Ranger Command, tell the governor that we did our best and make sure…,” Ranger Roberts hesitated, “…make sure Patricia gets my pension.”

“Roger that. Godspeed Rangers,” came the reply. The truck was put into drive and they began to move again. Roberts’ knuckles were white on the steering wheel and his jaw was clenched so tightly that James could see the muscles in his face straining. Every radio station was playing the evacuation notice on a loop, so that was quickly shut off. The two sat in silence for a couple of minutes.

“A last stand?” James broke the silence with his direct question.

“Maybe,” said the elder Ranger, “maybe not. I suspected this might happen, so I ran everyone’s plates before entering that gun shop. You have no wife, no kids, and your parents passed away a few years ago.”

“And my little sister is happily married out in Idaho, I see the logic of choosing me to do this. I had a great-great-great uncle at the Alamo,” James replied as he counted on his fingers, “well it doesn’t matter how many greats he was. I guess it’s my turn now. May I give her a call?”

Ranger Roberts nodded silently. James pulled out his cell phone and dialed his sister’s number.
“Jimmy, are you okay? Did you get out of the city?” was the frantic cry he was greeted with when she answered.

“For now. Listen, a lot has happened in the past few hours. I was deputized by the Rangers and we are going to try to hold the border from the creatures that those Santa Muerte freaks have conjured up. If I don’t make it, tell Paul that Uncle Jimmy loves him and to always be brave and to listen to his parents,” James tried to hold back tears, “and that I am sorry that I won’t be coming up there for the fishing trip, like I promised.”

James could hear sobbing coming through the phone’s speakers. He continued to speak.

“Sis, I love you. You did well marrying William. Yes, I give him shit for being a Yankee, but he’s a good man who will take care of you. Listen, I am getting close to the border, so if I don’t talk to you again, know that I am doing this to keep you safe.” James ended the call, just as Ranger Roberts pulled up to the abandoned border checkpoint.

Once they came to a complete stop, James slung his carbine on his back and unloaded all of the commandeered ammunition. Roberts climbed up the ladder to one of the towers overlooking the crossing, moving surprisingly quickly for his advanced age. After James finished hauling up the rifle ammo, the elder Ranger handed him a key.

“Spare key. If things go south and I go down, get out of here in my truck.”

James climbed down and grabbed several wooden stakes from the half-completed construction on a sidewalk. He walked out into the desert with measured steps and drove a stake into the ground every once in a while.

“What are you doing?” yelled Roberts from the tower.

“Range markers! Each one is 50 feet,” replied James. The Ranger smiled. He chose his deputy well.

Once he ran out of stakes, James returned to the tower and began to watch the cloud with his binoculars. After tow hours of watching, their worst fears were realized. A horde of shambling corpses was coming directly at them. The sun was no longer as high in the sky as it once was, and darkness would fall soon. The possibility of fighting those things at night brought a chill to James’ bones, despite the sweltering heat.

In front of the undying mass, the Rangers saw a group of 20 people fleeing the zombies on foot. They were a varied group of all ages, including a mother holding an infant to her chest. The old man at the head of the group wore a backpack that likely held all of his earthly possessions. He raised his hands up and waved them around erratically.

Ranger Roberts flicked the spotlight in the tower a couple of times to signal to the group. He even began to signal COME HERE in Morse Code, just in case one of them understood it.

“I don’t know if they are going to make it. That horde is closer to them than I’d like. I’m going to get the truck,” James said as he set down the binoculars. He turned and walked toward the ladder, until a cry from Roberts stopped him. He pulled the binoculars up to his eyes. The old man with the backpack was not trying to draw their attention.

Decaying arms split the desert and grabbed at the ankles of the refugees. The old man calmly set down his backpack and dug through it while the bodies of the ancient dead awoke from what should have been their eternal slumber.

Read Part I of the The Necromancers of Santa Muerte here: https://steemit.com/fiction/@notjohndaker/the-necromancers-of-santa-muerte-part-i

Read Part III of the The Necromancers of Santa Muerte here: https://steemit.com/fiction/@notjohndaker/the-necromancers-of-santa-muerte-part-iii