Date: 2017-12-26 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Horror
Description: Months after an ancient rage virus erupts from the depths of Yellowstone, survivors find themselves battling not only the infected, but each other. Predators prey on the weak and strength comes only in numbers. Government researchers are working tirelessly to find a cure, but time is running out. Over 90% of the world’s population is dead or infected and the number climbs daily. Follow a select group of survivors as they fight to carve out an existence while defending themselves from rage fueled cannibals and roving bands of marauders.
Publisher: DevilDog Press
Rights: Copyright 2017 Heath Stallcup. All rights reserved.

Caldera Book 4

Countdown To Oblivion

Heath Stallcup

Copyright © 2017 by Heath Stallcup

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Edited by Rob M. Miller

Cover by Jeffrey Kosh

Created with Vellum

To both of my girls.

You both love zombie stories and this is a different twist on the genre for you.

It may not be what you’re used to, but if the ‘zombie apocalypse’ ever really does come, it most likely will be some kind of rage virus versus the slow, shambling, walking dead.

Rule #1: Cardio…

Contents

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

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Caldera The Series

About the Author

Also by Heath Stallcup

Also From DevilDog Press

Chapter 1

Hatcher leaned forward and took in the force ahead of them. “Fuck me…”

Hollis nodded slowly. “You can say that again.”

Hatcher groaned as he stared at the Zulus coming up the mountain toward them. “You have got to be shitting me.”

Hollis spun in his seat and eyed Hatcher. “Tell me there’s a way around them.”

Hatcher’s mind spun as he tried to remember the other trails in the area. “I…don’t know if they’re clear.”

Buck sat up and pointed to their left. “There’s a trail we can get through over there. It’s a long way around, but it was passable yesterday.”

Hatcher nodded. “Yeah, it takes you back past the lake, but once we’re past the fishing area there’s a dozen different ways back to the center.”

“We only need one.” Hollis grabbed his radio and announced the change in plans. All three Humvees suddenly turned and drove off the trail. The Zeds blocking their path seemed confused at first, then broke formation and began chasing the trio of trucks.

“If you don’t step on it, they’ll gain on us,” Hollis barked.

The driver tried to respond through clenched teeth. “The terrain is too rocky, sir.”

“Step on it!” Hollis reached for the radio again. “Fire up that .50. Change their minds about following us!”

The gun turret operator in the second Humvee did his best to hang on as the rear truck shot past on their right. He tried to target the lead runners, but the sights were everywhere. “Sir, I can’t get a bead on them.”

“Spray and pray, dammit!” Hollis’ voice sounded frantic over the radio. The turret operator began firing backward into the crowd and wasn’t surprised that most of his rounds went wild. The one round that hit barely scratched the Zed’s shoulder and didn’t slow him down.

“I thought if we missed, the wind off these things would knock ’em down,” the operator muttered.

His sergeant ordered, “Hold the chatter on the coms and keep shooting.”

The gunner stopped firing and keyed his coms again. “Sir, they’ve broken off the chase.”

Hatcher leaned out the window and groaned. “Son of a…if they keep on through that stand of trees, they’ll reach the lake before we do.” He turned to Hollis and shook his head. “They’ll intercept and have plenty of time to set up a gauntlet.”

“Stop!” Hollis barked. He turned in his seat and watched as the Zeds ran off at high speed to his right, not slowing as they hit the tree line. “Turn us around. Now!”

“What are you doing?” Hatcher asked, leaning up closer to the captain. “There’s probably more back on that hill.”

“We’ll run them down if they are. An army of Zeds I won’t mess with, but a small handful? Bugs on a windshield.”

The three Humvees bounced back to the original trail they were on, all the while the occupants watched the trees to ensure that the enraged cannibals didn’t double-back. As soon as they crested the hill, the occupants of the lead car breathed a sigh of relief. The trail was clear for as far as they could see.

Hollis turned to face Buck. “Are there any more clans between us and the Visitor Center?”

Buck shook his head. “I can’t know which clan that was. If it’s the group I’m thinking of, this is their turf. There shouldn’t be any more.”

Hollis visibly relaxed and sat back in the seat. “I’ll radio the chopper and let them know we’ll be late.”

“Are you sure they can’t just pick us up?” Hatcher asked, still looking behind him.

Hollis shook his head. “Terrain is too rough and the trees too close.”

Hatcher groaned and gripped the M4 tighter. He continued to stare out the windows and watch. The truck took a sharp curve and he snapped his head around to see where they were. He actually sighed with relief as he recognized the landmarks. “Should be just over that rise.”

The driver slowed again and paled. “Sir?”

Hollis turned his attention to the front and ground his teeth together. “Go through them!” He leaned out of the open window and leveled his 9mm at the Zeds hovering just outside the edge of the parking area. They turned when they heard the engine approaching and began running in different directions as it drew closer.

Hollis tracked one with his pistol, but didn’t pull the trigger. “Looks like they aren’t trying to stop us.”

Hatcher pointed to one of the creatures as it scrambled up a short embankment. “Is he carrying a rifle?”

Hollis squinted in the midday sun and followed the creature up the slope. “Looks like it.” He leaned back and gave Hatcher a wary look. “I could have sworn one of the Zeds that first blocked our path was carrying a rifle, too.”

Hatcher nodded. “I saw that, but…I just assumed he was using it as a club.”

Buck turned back to the pair. “What are the odds that two of them would carry rifles?”

Hollis gave him a look he understood. “You lived here with them. You ever see something like that before?”

Buck shook his head. “Not that I’ve noticed, but it’s not like I hang out with them. I try to give them as much leeway as I can.”

“Smart move, kid.” Hollis caught the Visitors Center in his peripheral vision, then turned and faced the front again. “To the left. On the other side of that rise.”

The driver turned for the hill and the four watched the chopper suddenly rise from the ground and veer away from them. “What the…” Hollis reached for his radio, then froze.

A pack of Zeds were running toward them at top speed. “Move to secondary LZ!” he yelled into the radio.

“Get up.” The biker kicked his cohort on the bottom of the boot. “You’ve slept enough.”

The man grunted, farted, and rolled over. “Five more minutes, Mom.”

“How come you can’t sleep in a hotel with a real bed, but you can sprawl your happy ass out on a slab of concrete and sleep like the dead?”

The biker opened one eye and grinned. “Mattresses are too soft, man.” He sat up slowly and stretched. “Besides, concrete holds heat.”

“Yeah, no shit.” The first biker turned back the rest of the water bottle, then tossed it aside. “I feel like jerky, and here you are embracing the suck.”

“What can I say? I like to be warm.”

The first biker slipped his radio back into his jacket and straddled his bike. “I still can’t raise Squirrel on the squawk box.”

The second biker dusted the dirt and small rocks from his pants, then climbed aboard his own iron horse. “So, are we heading south to find him or going home?”

The first biker gave him a dirty look. “You really want to tell Simon we lost both of his lieutenants?”

The other biker shook his head and spit. “Not me, man. That’s your job.”

“Guess again.” The first biker hit the electric start on his ride and revved the engine. “Looks like we’re headed south.”

“What if he went into Albuquerque?”

The first biker scratched at his chin and pondered the thought. “Then I guess we can yell at him for leaving his radio off. What else can we do?”

“Man, we’d never find him. Rio Rancho is big enough, but if he went—”

“We’ll worry about it when we find him.”

The second biker gave him a worried look. “You mean if we find him.”

“No, I mean when we find him. We ain’t going back to Simon empty handed. We either find him alive and kicking or we find him dead.” He kicked the bike into gear and pulled onto the highway. The second biker begrudgingly followed closely behind.

Charles stared at Dr. LaRue as if she had threatened to shoot him. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been scratched, Charles. You know the protocols.”

“But…he is responding to the treatment. Surely he isn’t—”

“Take him now!” she barked.

Two orderlies grabbed the rotund man by the arms and led him to the isolation ward. Charles struggled only a bit at first, but soon realized he was in no position to fend off two large orderlies.

Vivian collapsed into her chair and followed him with her eyes. “I want him watched like a hawk for the next twenty-four hours.”

“Ma’am? If he’s infected, it should manifest within a matter of moments.” One of the younger researchers stated. Vivian opened her mouth to reply, then realized, she couldn’t remember the woman’s name. Was it Carol?

“This is a different situation. The subject is responding to the treatment, but we have no idea if he’s a carrier, if the viral load is gone, weakened, or…” She threw her hands into the air. “We just aren’t dealing with the same situation.”

“Understood.” The young woman stepped back to her workstation and Vivian tried to remember who she was. She had nearly two dozen people on her staff and other than Charles, she really didn’t care to know who the others were.

She sat up slowly and stepped over her broken coffee mug. She found another cup and filled it with the caffeinated brew.

She watched through the doors as Charles struggled with the restraints and then finally relax. He laid back on the table and stared at the ceiling, his jaw flexing. She took a quick sip of the coffee, then pushed her way into the isolation ward.

“I’d offer you another pillow but—”

“Screw you, Vivian!” He bellowed. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself, because once I get out of here, I intend to report you to the chain of command!”

She nodded gently. “You certainly have that right.” She took another sip of the coffee and didn’t really taste it. “But you know as well as I do that the protocols are in place to protect everybody. Not just those who may be infected.”

“He’s practically cured!”

“Practically is the key word there, Charles.” She set the coffee down and pulled her pen light. He glared at her as she approached him.

“Don’t you even think about it.”

“Don’t struggle, Charles.” She replied softly. “You are in no position to resist.” She lifted his eyelid and studied the whites of his eyes. “So far, nothing.”

“Ya think?” He responded sarcastically. “What did you expect?”

She clicked the pen light off and stared down at him. “I fully expected to see blood pooling in the sclera. Perhaps from blood vessels that burst or perhaps from—”

“Well, it isn’t going to happen because I’m not infected.” He set his jaw and stared at the ceiling again.

“Can you know that with absolute certainty?”

He jerked his head back to her and shot her a look that was pure hatred. “Yes.”

She nodded softly and crossed her arms. “Headaches?”

He gave her a confused look, then his features slightly softened. “Well, maybe a little. But it’s because I haven’t slept in thirty-six hours.” He fought to keep his voice level as he spoke. “Too much caffeine and lack of sleep causes headaches, you know this.”

She nodded, then tilted her head to study him again. “Any pain in your extremities?”

He turned worried eyes to her again and nodded. “A little. I assumed it was just fatigue, or that maybe the orderlies got a little too rough.”

“Possibility.” She glanced at her watch and made a mental note. “You know that I have to hold you for twenty-four hours.” He groaned and his body went slack. She patted his leg as she reached for her coffee. “I would suggest you use this time to catch up on that sleep you missed out on. Once we’re confident you haven’t contracted the virus, I’ll be the first to apologize for the inconvenience.”

Charles blew out a breath and nodded. “Fine.”

She turned to leave when he asked softly, “Mind hitting the lights on your way out? It will make it easier to catch a few winks.”

She nodded and reached to slap the switch on her way out. She did an about face and watched him for a moment through the glass of the doors. She grabbed an orderly and whispered, “I want somebody checking his vitals every hour on the hour. Try not to disturb him, though. He needs to rest if he can.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The orderly made a note then trotted off to continue his duties.

Vivian sighed then went to her office. She had people in the chain of command to notify of the incident. How do you explain that one of your lead researchers may have been infected?

She was not looking forward to this call.

Henry turned the pickup down one road after another. “Tell me you see a damned dump truck.”

Wally shook his head. “I don’t even see a tractor we could use.”

Henry cursed under his breath. “I don’t get it. We live in a freakin’ desert. How can we not find a truck full of sand?”

“It’s not like in the northeast where they salt and sand the roads, Hank.” He sighed and propped his chin on his hand. “Seriously, I think we’d have better luck if we just looked for a tractor with the big scoop on the front.”

Henry slowed the truck, then turned and stared at Wally. “There used to be an equipment rental place over bySears.”

“So?”

“So? So, we go by there, pick out a tractor with the front end loader attachment, and we scoop up the sand ourselves.”

Wally shook his head. “I know there’s sand and dirt everywhere, but where is there any that’s close to the warehouse? I say, let’s go by a Home Depot and get bags of play sand. It’s already sacked up like they do concrete. I can sit on the back of the truck, and dump it out as you drive along, and then we drive over it a couple of times.”

Henry stared at the man open-mouthed.

Wally shrugged. “What?”

“That is the single most best idea I think you’ve ever had.” He broke into a wide smile and put the truck back into gear.

The pair drove like mad to the nearest hardware store and Henry drove through the thin, flimsy bar meant to keep people out of the lumber yard. They drove to the rear of the lumber load-out section, and, as hoped, there was a full pallet of bagged sand.

Henry slapped at Wally. “You’re a friggin genius.”

The pair climbed out and loaded bags of play sand into the bed of the truck. Wally patted the top of the pile, then nodded to Henry. “I think this is enough. Let’s go!”

Henry slid back into the cab and pulled the truck out of the lumber yard. He half-expected a Zulu to rush him as he pulled back into the light of the sun. Between the damned marauders and the cannibalistic infected, his nerves were about shot.

Wally sat in the back of the truck and used a box knife to cut open as many bags as he could without losing the sand. He propped the bags on end and made himself a place to sit near the tailgate while Henry maneuvered the pickup through town.

When Henry pulled past the gas station with the burned-out Civic, he slowed and waited for Wally to get into place.

Wally plopped onto the tailgate and gave him a wave. “Ready. Just go slow.”

Henry let his foot off the brake and tried to keep the gouges in the road approximately lined up with where Wally was sitting on the tailgate.

He watched Wally slowly dump bag after bag and they even had a few left over when they reached the spot that the Civic had burned. They scattered as much sand over the burnt pavement as they could, then drove back down the road to inspect their work.

Wally paled and turned to Henry. “It almost looks worse. It’s like we purposely left a trail.”

Henry grunted. “We pretty much did.”

They stopped the truck midway down the street and studied it. “Maybe if we used a big push broom?” Wally offered.

Henry shook his head. “You’d be able to see that it was swept. That would tell anybody that somebody was near.”

“We could drive over it a few times.” Wally suggested.

Henry shook his head again. “Fresh tire tracks in the sand? Nope.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think of that.” He drummed his fingers along the console of the pickup and continued to stare at it. “Too bad we couldn’t conjure up a big wind storm to scatter it a bit.”

Henry nodded. “But not too big. We still want the gouges to be filled with sand.”

Wally turned to him and gave him a big smile. “What if we block the road?”

“With what? Police barricades?”

“Nope. The box truck.” His smile continued to spread and Henry gave him a confused look.

“You want to park the box truck at the end of the road?”

“Not park. Flip it on its side.” He pointed to the entryway of the gas station. “If we put it on the other side of that, we can still get in and out pretty easy, we just use the gas station lot. But to somebody just driving by, it will look like there was an accident. Maybe it happened when everything was first going down…who’s to say?”

Henry mulled the idea around a bit and shook his head. “We’d have to clear that through Candy.”

“So, clear it through her.” Wally snapped his fingers. “I’m telling you, it’s a helluva idea.”

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” Henry put the truck into gear and turned back for the warehouse. He just had to figure out how to tell Candy they needed to wreck one of their working vehicles to block the road.

Chapter 2

Hatcher leaned out of the window of the bouncing Humvee and popped rounds into the crowd as they rushed the transport. He couldn’t see if any of the rounds hit home, but watched as they slowly pulled away from the horde.

“Total waste of ammo, but it made me feel better.” He threw himself back into the seat and gave Hollis a stern stare. “I’m sick of these bastards screwing up my day.”

Hollis raised a brow. “No worries, Ranger. I’ll get you home.” He slapped the driver on the shoulder. “Mash the skinny pedal down, sergeant. I want plenty of room between us and the Zeds.”

“Roger that, sir.”

Buck remained quiet in the back seat until the Humvee crested the next hill. He tapped Hatcher’s arm. “That’s where I’ve been spending most of my time. They rarely travel this far out.”

Hatcher turned to see an RV lying on its side. He could see that something had rummaged through the interior at some point, as trash was scattered in a semi-circle near the back window.

He gave Buck a confused stare. “What about bears?”

Buck shook his head. “Haven’t seen any. I don’t know if they headed for high ground or if the infected hunted them.”

Hatcher tried to imagine a bear being taken down by a pack of feral humans. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the concept. “You won’t have to worry about going back any time soon, kid.” He glanced to Hollis. “You can crash with us for as long as you need.”

“If it’s all the same, I’d rather not hunt for family.” His eyes avoided Hatcher’s as he spoke. “I wasn’t close to my uncle and I got the distinct impression that my mom hated the man. The only time my dad had anything to do with him was if he needed something.”

Hatcher thought of Vicky. He couldn’t picture his life without his sister in it. She was the only family he had left. He wondered if the boy was mentally prepared to cut all ties to family, but one last look at the RV and he realized that Buck was no mere child.

Trying to stay alive in such a hostile environment couldn’t have been easy. He could only imagine what Buck had to do to keep breathing. He cast a furtive glance at the lean young man sitting across from him and noted the thousand-yard stare.

“You can stay with us as long as you like, Buck. Nobody’s gonna make you go any place you don’t want.” He fought a grin and added, “I’m sure Skeeter will be glad you’re alive.”

Buck gave him a small smile and nodded. “I’m glad she made it out.”

Hatcher bit back a smart-assed remark. “She’s been a real…handful. Maybe with you back among the living, she’ll calm down a bit.”

He turned his attention back to the front of the truck and the brush being knocked out of their path. “Are we almost to the secondary landing zone?”

Hollis pointed up and to the left. “Just over that ridge is a clearing. The chopper should be waiting for us.”

As the Humvee crested the ridge, Hollis’ stomach fell. The chopper was making a slow circle just feet from the ground with Zeds hanging from the landing gear. One was scrambling up the strut and reaching for the side door.

“No!” Hollis braced a hand on the dash as the driver locked up the brakes.

“I thought you said they never came out this far?” Hatcher threw an accusing glare at Buck.

Hollis threw open his door and took careful aim at the creatures hanging onto his ride home. He let loose a round and wanted to cheer as a body fell from the chopper.

He looked through his scope to the pilot and saw a figure making its way through the rear. He fired two rounds, praying he’d connected with the intruder, but the aircraft made one last spin before tilting downward, its blades slicing the topsoil before the entire craft sunk into the soft dirt.

Pieces of helicopter flew in every direction and Hollis instinctively ducked behind the cover of the door. He watched in horror as the Zeds dove into the broken craft and prayed that the pilot didn’t suffer.

“Son of a…” he trailed off.

“We need to move!” Hatcher pointed to the right and Hollis turned to see a large pack of Zeds tearing ass up the hill toward them.

He slammed his door shut and glared at the pilot. “Take the highways!”

The driver turned the Humvee around, heading back to the paved roads into the park as Hollis relayed the obvious bad news to his men over the radio.

Hatcher laid his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. He knew this was a bad idea. He turned slowly to Buck and gave him a tight-lipped smile. “I guess I jinxed us by promising you a real bed tonight.”

Buck shrugged. “Out of the frying pan…”

“City of Vision.” The biker scoffed. “Looks more like a ghost town.”

The bikers had parked in the middle of the highway and the lead man stood on the pavement, binoculars to his eyes, scanning the city ahead of him. “I’m not seeing shit.” He dropped the spy glasses and huffed. “If he’s gonna run off, he shoulda left bread crumbs for us to follow.”

“Stain, won’t the birds eat them?”

The lead biker, nicknamed Stain by Simon, turned slowly and stared at his riding partner. “You are joking, right?”

The man shook his head. “I reckon the birds would eat—”

“Did your momma drop you on your head as a baby?” Stain slipped the binoculars back into the saddle bags of his bike and straddled the machine again. “Fan out. If you see anything that looks like a lead, call on the radio.”

The bikes revved their engines as they came to life. Each rider slowly pulled away from the others and headed into town.

Stain stayed back and stared at his riding partner. “I worry for you.” Before the man could question his statement, Stain started the bike and pulled away.

He drove into town slowly, his dim-witted partner cruising behind him. Stain watched as the other two bikes broke off the main road and began surveying a residential area. He continued into town, eyes constantly scanning for Squirrel or his ride. The old Indian was quite distinctive. There would be no confusing it with another.

He cruised into a pharmacy parking lot. Broken glass and trash littered the area. One glance through the shattered windows told him the place had been looted. Most likely numerous times.

He stepped off the Harley and stretched his neck. From where he stood, he could see down two main roads. He nodded to his partner to kill the bike.

Once he had calmed his mind and his senses refocused, he listened. He could almost hear the ebb and flow of the other two motorcycles in the empty town. He half-expected to hear screams, gunshots, voices yelling. But there was nothing. The silence was almost deafening.

He walked to the center of the interchange and stared in all four directions. Nothing as far as the eye could see. He sighed and walked back to his bike. He had hoped for something. Some sign of life.

He mounted the bike and stared at the abundance of southwestern styled homes. How could there have been so much life here and weeks later it was like this?

He thought back to when Squirrel had spotted smoke in this direction. He hated to admit it, but he never saw the shadow that Squirrel claimed to see. He scratched at his chin and wondered, Did he have another reason for coming here? He glanced to his partner. “Squirrel ever say anything about knowing anyone from here?”

He shook his head. “Squirrel didn’t talk to me.” He spat tobacco spit and worked the chaw in his jaw. “I don’t think Squirrel talked to many folks. Wasn’t the talking type.”

Stain tried to remember ever having a heart-to-heart with the big man. He couldn’t recall ever having spoken to him that wasn’t in the line of work. He sighed heavily and started the Harley. “We’ll work a grid. Keep your eyes peeled for his bike.”

The two pulled out slowly and Stain wondered if Albuquerque was just as desolate.

Vivian yawned and fought to keep her eyes open. She glanced at her watch then grabbed Charles’ chart. She ran her finger down along the vitals taken. No change.

She stood and walked to the door leading into the isolation ward. Peering through the glass, she saw Charles try to roll over, struggle a moment with his bindings, then calm down. She pressed the door open slightly and heard a gentle snore. Satisfied that he was resting, she backed out and went to her office.

She practically fell into the couch and pulled her lab coat tighter around her. The moment she leaned her head back, she was out.

In her dreams, she was walking in a forest. She knew she wasn’t alone, but she wasn’t afraid. She stepped behind a large oak and waited. Footsteps were heard, and she saw infected people pass her location. She knew they were looking for her. She knew why, too. She had the cure. For a moment she was confused why she wouldn’t share it with them.

She slipped back to the other side of the tree and began walking back the way she had come in.

“You abandoned me.”

Her head snapped up and she stared into the eyes of Captain Andrews. For the briefest moment she lit up, happy to see him. Then she noticed the rot that had infested his features. His eyes turned from crystal blue to milky, and his teeth were now all crooked and stained with dried blood.

“You left me to die with the monsters.” He croaked at her. His hands slowly reached out and she stepped back, her breath catching in her throat.

“Don’t touch me,” she whispered. “You’re infected.”

“Of course, I’m infected. You left me to die with them!” He stepped forward and she watched as his lower jaw broke loose on one side and hung precariously from his face. He looked like a walking corpse and she felt her stomach heave.

She threw up on her shoes and when she looked up, he was gone. She spun a slow circle, her eyes straining to see him amongst the tall trees. She cupped her hands to her mouth and yelled, “Joe!”

Her eyes snapped open and Vivian fought to breathe. She shot up on the couch and looked around.

“Are you alright, Dr. LaRue?” a soft voice asked.

She looked up to see one of her techs standing over her. “Yeah. Just…a dream.”

“You were shouting.” The young woman bent low and gave her a solemn look. “You really should get some rest. Real rest, not a cat nap on the couch. We can handle things here and I’ll call you if there’s any change in—”

Vivian stood and held her hands up, stopping her midsentence. “Thank you. I think I will.”

She turned and practically staggered out of her office.

When she made it to her stateroom, she sat on the bed and rubbed at her eyes. Why had she dreamed of Andrews? After all that had happened, she had practically pushed him from her mind.

She stretched out on the bed, but her mind wouldn’t let her rest. She had always been a believer that dreams were your mind’s way of letting you know something you had missed.

“Why him? Why would I dream of Joseph after all of this?” She yawned and rolled to her side. “What could it possibly mean?”

Vivian allowed her mind free reign to wander. If it wouldn’t let her sleep again and re-enter the same dream, she couldn’t very well ask him why he was there. She closed her eyes and tried to center her thoughts on the young captain. Joseph had always seemed like a straight and narrow military man, even if he didn’t like their regulation haircuts.

She smiled as she thought of him.

She sat up, her face painted with shock and worry. “He was working on the virus before—”

She jumped from her bed and pulled her lab coat on before disappearing out the door.

“Absolutely not!” Candy yelled.

“But it would block the road perfectly,” Henry argued.

“We need that truck, Hank.” Candy planted her hands on her hips and he knew that her mind was made up.

“How about if they just park it there?”

They both turned and Squirrel flashed another brilliant smile.

Hank returned the smile. “She let you out of the hoosegow already?”

Squirrel shrugged and draped an arm around Candy’s shoulder. “I think she’s sweet on me.”

Candy stammered and spun away from the pair. “Don’t go getting fresh with me, sailor!” She pointed a finger in his face.

“You two can flirt later,” Henry interrupted. “But what if we did what he said? We could park that big box truck cattywampus on the road there. It would block easy access and the view.”

She turned back to Henry and sighed. “Bring the keys back with you.”

Squirrel smiled. “Not to say they couldn’t hotwire it, but who’d want to?” He turned to Candy again and flashed his smile. “Right?”

She groaned and marched off, waving them off with her hand. “Just get it done and get your ass back here.”

Hank slapped Wally on the shoulder. “Follow me in the pickup.”

The pair practically ran out of the warehouse and Squirrel spun a slow circle, taking in the setup. He was impressed by the number of people living under the steel roof. He saw kids running around, trying to be quiet as they played. Couples working together to either set up a type of home for their own or doing odd jobs.

He trotted after Candy and fell into step alongside her. “So…what can I do to make things better?”

She stopped and stared at him. “Make what all better?”

He raised a brow. “No, not all better, just…what can I do? Surely everyone has a job here.”

She inhaled deeply and shook her head. “If you really wanted to help, you’d find a way to send your friends packing. Keep them as far away from us as possible.”

Squirrel’s face fell, and his smile disappeared. He studied her a moment and realized, her biggest fear wasn’t losing any thing. It was allowing any of her people to come to harm. He swallowed hard and nodded. “I might can do something about that.”

She watched him spin and walk toward the staging area. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words refused to form. She didn’t like how flippant he could act, and she didn’t like the fact he rode with the marauders, but she didn’t want him to leave, either.

Truth be told, she thought he was very easy on the eyes. And as much as she hated to admit it, his smile disarmed her. She liked it when he smiled.

She sighed and took off after him. She would catch up with him and tell him to stay. To find the armory and get a rifle assigned to him. Work his way to the roof and keep a lookout for his friends. She would give him a berth deep in the warehouse…probably close to her own. So she could keep an eye on him, of course.

Maybe she’d let him sit by her during meals. Maybe they could talk more and get to know each other better. After all, they were the only two law officers here at the warehouse.

She rounded the corner, expecting him to be standing at the door, arguing with the guard. Instead, she saw the guard clicking the lock back into place.

“Where’s Roger?”

He turned and gave her a confused look. “Who?”

“The tall biker-looking guy? Roger.” She marched forward and held her hand out for the key.

“He, uh…just left. Said you sent him on a mission and…Hank and Wally said—”

“Just give me the damned keys!” She pushed her hand out farther to emphasize the command.

The guard fished in his pocket and pulled the lone key out. “He said you told him to—”

“I know what I said.” She fought with the lock and finally got it to pop. She handed the key back, then pulled the chain away. “I need to catch him before he does something stupid!”

She pulled the door open and felt her heart leap into her throat. She just caught the back of Roger’s jacket as he pulled the big motorcycle out of the staging area. He turned right and accelerated away.

She watched in horror as the gate guards pulled the chain link gate back into place and lock it with heavy chain. She felt her lower jaw tremble for a moment before she squared her shoulders.

“He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.” She let the steel door shut behind her and she walked slowly toward the chain link gate. She could still hear the exhaust from his motorcycle as it faded away. “He knows where we are.”

Chapter 3

The Humvee’s tires squawked as the rubber bit into the pavement and Hatcher knew the driver must really be pushing the machine. He leaned up in his seat and tapped Hollis on the shoulder. “Can’t you request another chopper to meet us somewhere?”

Hollis shook his head. “Radio won’t reach that far.”

“Do you intend to drive all the way to the coast?”

Hollis shrugged. “Until I can come up with a better plan, yes.”

Buck tapped the captain’s arm to get his attention over the drone of the diesel engine. “Are there any other bases nearby? Some place that has another helicopter?”

Hollis gave him a strained look. “Do you know how to fly one?” He didn’t mean for his voice to sound so harsh, but his tone sounded demeaning.

“How about a radio then?” Buck asked hopefully. “We could call for somebody to pick us up?”

Hollis sighed heavily and rubbed at his eyes. “Look, kid, there are all kinds of bases in Montana. The problem is we lost contact with all of them shortly after the infection spread.” He turned more in his seat and the look in his eyes gave Buck little hope. “We have to assume they were overrun with the Zeds.”

Buck shook his head. “If I can survive at ground zero, surely trained military could have—”

“Give it up!” Hollis yelled. “If there was an easy way out, believe me, I’d go for it. I’d point us in that direction and we’d make a bee-line. But the truth of the matter is, we can only rely on ourselves.”

Hatcher scooted closer and lowered his voice. “Surely they’d send somebody to check on us when the chopper doesn’t check in or we miss our return time.”

Hollis shook his head slowly. “Resources are limited. I can’t believe they’d risk losing another chopper and crew just to check on us.”

“But the primordial virus is the key, right? Surely they’d make another attempt.”

Hollis shrugged. “We didn’t discuss that contingency.”

Hatcher sighed heavily and sat back in his seat. “Maybe we should stick close to the flight path. Just in case. We can maybe find a building that would make a suitable, defendable shelter, then set guards to watch for incoming flights. Shoot a flare or some-such to get their attention.”

Buck nodded. “Or once they get close we can reach them with your portable radio.”

Hollis considered the option for a moment. “We shouldn’t wait too long…if we do this.” He turned again and faced Hatcher. “I’m willing to give it a couple of days. Three at the most. But if things start to get hairy, we bug out.”

Hatcher fought to keep from grinning. “Agreed.”

Hollis tapped the driver. “Find us a place to pull over. We need to form a plan.”

The driver pulled to the side of the road and the following Humvees followed suit. He turned in his seat and looked to the two in the rear. “Tell me you know of a building that fits your description.”

Hatcher glanced out the window, his mind racing. “I know there are private residences that are right on the border of the park.” He nodded slowly. “A couple of them are high on a ridge.”

“Do they overlook the lake?” Hollis asked.

Hatcher shrugged. “I’ve never actually gone to any of them, but I know that depending on the time of year, I could see the lights from the center. That means they overlook the same flight path our chopper used to bring us in.”

Hollis inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. “Can you get us there?”

Buck smiled wide. “I can.” He shot Hatcher a knowing look. “I think I may have raided a couple of those places looking for food.”

“That was a hell of a walk, kid.” Hatcher gave him a suspicious look. “Why didn’t you stay at one of them?”

Buck’s face fell. “I thought that if and when help came, they’d come to where it all started.” He looked away and his voice dropped to almost a whisper. “After I hauled what I could carry back to the park…”

Hatcher touched his hand gently. “What?”

“I didn’t have the heart to go back.” He shrugged. “I just holed up in the wrecked travel trailer and did my best to survive.”

Hollis pulled his map and spread it out on the center hump between the rear seats. “We’re here. Where are the houses?”

Buck studied the map to try to get his bearings. He found the center and could see the stream on the topographical map. He traced the route he took with his finger and tapped the map. “Here. I’m almost certain.”

Hatcher glanced at the map and nodded. “That would be about where we saw the lights. Does this show the roads?”

Hollis shook his head. “Do you know them?”

Hatcher glanced out the window, then looked back toward the other trucks. “Go back about two miles. You’ll take the first left that we come across.”

Hollis turned to the driver. “Turn us around and radio the other transports. Fill them in on the plan. We got work to do.”

Stain pulled his bike to the side of the road and studied the burned out remains of a house. Judging by the neighborhood, he assumed it had once been a pretty nice place. “Probably had four bedrooms. Maybe a den.” He glanced at his idiot partner. “I bet the old lady was screwing the pool boy while her husband was at work.”

The imbecile chuckled and nodded. “Probably. Or maybe she was doing her tennis instructor, right, Stain?”

“Sure, shithead. Why not.” He killed the engine and stepped off the bike. “I wonder if this is the smoke that Squirrel seen?” He walked toward the charred remains, his eyes constantly scanning for infected people.

He relaxed slightly when he approached what was left of the front porch and didn’t hear any screams. He glanced over his shoulder and shithead was still straddling his bike. He kicked at what was left of the front door and wasn’t surprised when the entire thing fell inward.

He stepped onto the solid wood door and bent low. He picked up a piece of charred wood and crumbled it in his fingers. “This thing burned a long time ago.” He let the charcoal drop from his hand and stood. “This ain’t what Squirrel saw. It would still be smoldering.”

He turned and marched back toward the bike. As soon as he straddled it his radio barked. He pulled it from his jacket and keyed the mic. “Tell me you found something.”

“Baby Bird, we found a burnt-up gas station, but this thing has been here for a while.”

“You sure, Dirty Bird? How can you tell?”

The radio squawked again. “There’s a sapling growin’ in the middle of it. Pretty sure it would have burnt up with the rest of it if it was recent.”

Stain sighed then suddenly perked. “Are there any tire tracks near that gas station? Can you tell if Momma Bird had been there?”

“That’s a big fat negatory, Baby Bird. The only tracks I see is ours.”

Stain pressed the radio to his forehead and squeezed the black box in frustration. “Keep looking.”

“We’re on it.” The radio went silent and Stain shoved it back into his jacket.

“This town is huge, Stain. Leads plum into Albuquerque. We could be searching for days.”

Stain nodded as he kicked off his motorcycle. “Then we look for days.” He shot the man a dirty look. “And if we don’t find him, we search for weeks.”

“But what if he got et?”

He turned and gave him a hateful glare. “They ain’t gonna eat his ride, man. We find the Indian, we find Squirrel. If we don’t find Squirrel, then we can assume he got et.”

Shithead nodded, the logic slowly sinking in. He kicked his bike into gear and pulled out behind Stain. He really didn’t want to ask him what they’d do if Squirrel hid his bike or parked it in some garage before he got et.

“He was working on the virus before the outbreak!” Vivian’s face was nearly red from running to the Command Duty Officer. “We have to find out where he was doing his research and get his papers.”

The man shook his head. “We have no idea where Captain Andrews was assigned before the outbreak. If he was working on the virus it was surely at some black operation lab.”

“There has to be a record somewhere.” The desperation in her voice wasn’t missed. “Just…radio Captain Hollis and he can stop by wherever the lab was and pick up the research.” She stepped closer to the man and lowered her voice, “We are this close to finding the answer. I just know that research will help put us over the top.”

The man sighed and gave her a solemn look. “As I’ve tried to explain Doctor LaRue, we have no way of knowing where he was assigned. And if we could find out, who’s to say it isn’t overrun with Zeds.”

She clenched her jaw and glared at him. “I want to speak to your commanding officer.”

“That would be the captain of the ship, ma’am and he’s currently in video conference with the fleet admiral. I can’t interrupt—”

“You can and you will. Or I will.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Surely somebody in this flotilla knows where Andrews was working. Or they can find out.”

The Command Duty Officer groaned and threw his hands in the air. “Fine. You know what? I’ll check into it. I can’t guarantee you anything, but…I can make a few calls. Maybe Colonel Vickers can—”

“Yes! Colonel Vickers was working with Andrews. Surely he knows!” She urged him forward. “Call him. Now, please.”

“But I’m afraid I have some bad news.” She looked to him expectantly and he shook his head. “We’ve lost contact with the helicopter that Captain Hollis and his men were on. We know that the team was dropped at the LZ, and we have reason to believe they were about to be picked up but…”

“But what?” Her eyes were wide with fear. “Lieutenant, we need that primordial sample.”

“I understand that, ma’am, and we have people trying to restore radio contact, but…it doesn’t look promising.”

“Why not?”

He blew his breath out hard. “We believe the chopper was lost. Possibly with all hands.”

“Then send another chopper.” She heard her voice rise in pitch and volume and had to force herself to lower it. “Seriously, Lieutenant, that sample is paramount to us finding a lasting cure. We have treatments we’re testing, but in order to find an actual cure, we need that sample.”

“Understood, ma’am, and that is what the captain is discussing with the fleet admiral. As soon as we know something I’ll let you know.” He gave her a solemn look. “And I promise you, I’ll try to contact Colonel Vickers and find out where your Captain Andrews was working. If we can restore contact with the retrieval team, and if the operation is approved, I’ll talk to the captain about redirecting the team to get the research.”

“Thank you, lieutenant.”

“Don’t thank me yet. That’s a lot of if’s, maybe’s and possibly’s. I make no promises.”

She felt the tension leave her shoulders as soon as he turned and walked away. If there was any hope left, it all rested on what the chain of command decided to do next. She prayed they had the foresight to do the right thing.

Roger rode away from the warehouse and did his best to avoid the intersection where Henry and Wally were parking the box truck. He didn’t want to leave any tracks on the road leading to the warehouse. He couldn’t risk any of Simon’s men spotting them.

He went the long way around the block and came back out on the main road. He pulled to the shade of an overhang and parked his Indian. Slipping off the bike, he listened for any kind of sound. Satisfied there was nothing close by, he mounted his bike and rode by the box truck. Without studying the road very hard he couldn’t tell that anything had been moved since the outbreak.

The burned-out shell of the Civic still sat at the station, but it could have happened weeks ago. He smiled to himself and goosed the throttle. He actually enjoyed the feel of the wind on his face as he rode through the empty town.

He slowed at a blocked intersection and weaved the bike between wrecked cars. He exited the other side and moved to the left lane to avoid the line of cars parked in the road. Farther up he discovered the cause of the blockage.

There had been another wreck and a firetruck blocked nearly both lanes. He studied the scene for a moment and felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. This would be the perfect place to form a trap.

He held the front brake of the bike and revved the engine, sliding the ass-end of the Indian around. He released the brake and shot in the other direction as screaming infected lunged from the sides of the road.

Squirrel wasted no time. He opened the throttle and leaned low on the bike, doing his best to streamline his form and give the would-be attackers a smaller target to swing at.

He was approaching the first intersection with the wreckage when a lone figure stepped in front of him. It held something in its hands, and for a moment Squirrel feared that the creature was going to launch himself directly into his windshield.

He weaved the bike first left, then quickly to the right in an attempt at avoiding the creature making the standoff.

Just as he shot past the red-eyed bastard, it threw something at the bottom of his motorcycle. Squirrel felt the back-tire bump over the obstruction and he quickly accelerated away. He weaved through the wreckage again, then stopped on the other side of the intersection.

He turned and looked back. The creature was picking up the piece of pipe it had thrown. It took Squirrel a moment to realize…it had tried to throw the pipe into his back wheel, stopping him dead on the road. He glanced at the creature and the look it shot back at him turned his blood cold. The creature hefted the pipe into the air and screamed, his arm pumping up and down as he shook the pipe at him.

Squirrel kicked the Indian into gear and quickly put as much distance as he could between himself and the infected.

He felt his stomach twist as he realized how close he had come to not only wrecking his pride and joy, but being laid out on the pavement like some leather clad buffet. He had to keep replaying the events in his mind. Could they really have figured out how to stop a motorcycle like that? Were they becoming smarter?

He tried to force the idea from his mind. Surely not. He’d dealt with their kind before. They were constantly in a rampage. They seemed to operate on rage and adrenaline. They weren’t capable of rational thought.

Were they?

He slowed his bike and tried to force his attention on his surroundings. There could be more camped out along the sides of any of the roads. There could be more traps.

He thought of Candy and her group. Were they aware that the Zulus were capable of such things? He felt like he needed to warn them, but…what if it was just a fluke? A poorly-made attempt at knocking him from the bike? What if it was purely accidental that it nearly locked up his wheel? What if he was making more of the situation than it really was? What if…what if they were becoming smarter?

He had to warn her.

He had to let her know some of these murderous abominations were capable of higher thought. He slowed the bike and prepared to work his way back to the warehouse when he suddenly locked up the brakes. He stared ahead and felt his stomach drop again.

“Where the fuck you been?” Stain asked.

Chapter 4

Hatcher stayed in the Humvee with Buck while the military men cleared the house. He turned to Buck and gave him a crooked grin. “I guess you’ll get a real bed tonight after all.”

“Easy now. You don’t want to jinx us again, do you?”

Hatcher gave him a pat on the arm. “No worries, Buck. I think they’ll make sure it’s clear enough that you can sleep with both eyes closed tonight.”

“I’m not sure I remember how.” The kid looked up as Hollis walked out.

“They’re clearing a body. The smell has more or less faded, and there wasn’t a lot left, but we’re going to open the house up and let it air a bit.” He gave Hatcher a knowing look. “It may not do a lot of good.”

Buck nodded. “It was really ripe in there when I rummaged for food.”

Hollis nodded. “You the one that left the mess?”

Buck shook his head. “No, sir. I picked through the mess. Somebody else beat me to it, but I don’t think they were looking for food.” He shrugged. “At least not the kind you and I would eat.”

“Copy that.” Hollis glanced over his shoulder then opened the door to the Humvee. “Looks like we’re good.”

Hatcher stepped out and stretched. “So, what’s the plan?”

“We’ll set up perimeter guards and double them come nightfall. We can’t risk them getting the drop on us.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “Those damned Hummers make all kinds of noise, so I’m sure if there were any Zeds in the area, they’re screaming our location to all of their crazy buddies.”

“What about a watch for further transports?”

Hollis nodded. “House has a flat roof. We’re gonna set a watch whose only purpose is keeping their eye on the horizon. If he sees anything, he’ll pop a flare.”

Hatcher raised a brow. “Just one flare?”

Hollis shrugged. “We’ll pop one, and if the aircraft doesn’t change position, he’ll keep popping them until we get their attention.” He clapped Hatcher on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Ranger. This ain’t our first rodeo.”

Buck followed the pair into the house and was a bit surprised that nobody made an effort to at least kick some of the trash out of the way. The men just seemed to step on or over whatever was in their path. Magazines, scattered papers, ruined groceries, couch cushions…none of it mattered if it didn’t directly relate to their mission.

He watched as men set up at windows and doorways at the corners, settling in to keep watch for trespassing zombies. It took him a few moments, but he found his neck and shoulders relaxing as he realized he didn’t need to stay on guard. He sat cautiously on the edge of the couch and leaned into the overstuffed back. He could feel the stress of the day releasing and he closed his eyes. Although it was still daylight out, he slipped into slumber.

Hatcher caught a glimpse of the young man sleeping and nodded to Hollis. “I met him when all of this went down. We think his mom was either the first or nearly the first to be infected. She spread the virus all through the park and one of my best friends got infected putting her down.” He tried not to remember the crunch of bone under his blade as Mitch’s death popped into his mind. “He took off into the woods just before they nuked the mountain. I really thought he was dead.”

Hollis rubbed at his chin and glanced at the boy. “He’s been here since the beginning?”

“Yeah.” Hatcher answered slowly. “What are you thinking?”

Hollis shrugged. “There have been rumors of people…out there.” He pointed out of a window. “In what’s left of the world. People who are immune.”

Hatcher raised a brow. “You think maybe he’s…” he trailed off.

Hollis shrugged again. “He was at ground zero and none of that crap raining down on him got him infected. People a thousand miles away were infected as soon as the trade winds carried it to them. You do the math.”

Hatcher glanced at the boy and shook his head. “I wonder if he suspects?”

“I doubt it. He probably figures he’s been lucky so far.” Hollis nodded toward his prone figure. “I need to take him back and let our researchers take a look at him.”

“What about Brenda? If she’s immune, then shouldn’t she be enough?”

Hollis pulled Hatcher aside. “Look, I’m no virologist, but this thing has mutated so many times since the initial release…yeah, she may be immune, but to what strain?” He pointed to Buck. “The kid was at ground zero. The primordial strain came from here. Unmutated. And somehow he survives?”

Hatcher blew his breath out slowly. “So, you’re saying you’re gonna need him for testing.”

Hollis nodded. “I didn’t want to say anything until we were closer to being out of the fire, but yeah. I want to take him back and get him a screening.”

Hatcher turned wary eyes. “What will they do to him?”

Hollis seemed confused. “They’ll probably just draw some blood for testing. If he’s carrying the virus or the antibodies for it, then they’ll probably need more.”

“How much more?” Hatcher’s meaning wasn’t missed.

Hollis gave him a crooked smile. “Don’t worry, Ranger. They’re not going to hurt him.” He turned to leave then added, “You’ll see for yourself when we get back and your friend Brenda is still just fine.”

“Stain?” Roger pulled his sunglasses off and eyes the man cautiously. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you. You never checked in and we couldn’t raise you on the radio.”

Roger patted his pocket and groaned. “I must have lost it.” He slipped his glasses back on and sat back on his bike. “In all the confusion, I wasn’t thinking.”

“Confusion?” Stain crossed his arms and gave him a cautious stare.

“Yeah, tell me something, in your dealings with the ragers, have you ever see them do anything that made you think they could…think?”

Stain raised a brow and looked at him as though he had lost his ever-loving mind. “The ragers? Think?”

“Yeah.” Roger nodded. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I just rode through a trap of theirs.”

Stain shook his head. “Not possible.”

“I would have said the same thing yesterday, but it was like they knew I was coming and they set up a trap between two wrecks.” He leaned forward and eyed the group. “And as I was trying to escape, one of them threw a piece of pipe at my tires. Like he was trying to jam me up.”

Stain shook his head. “You been smoking too much wacky weed, man. Ragers can’t think.”

Roger shrugged. “I got this creepy feeling, man.” He started his bike and revved the engine a few times. “I just can’t shake it.”

“So, what are you doing?” Stain asked.

Roger gave him a blank look. “I’ve been all over this town, man. If that truck came from here, I can’t find it.” He nodded with his jaw. “I figure they had to come from Albuquerque.”

Stain raised a brow at him. “That was an awful fast run through. This town ain’t exactly small.”

Roger nodded. “But if he had a camp, they’re either gone or so small that they could be hiding anywhere. I say we move on to Albuquerque and look for them there.” He gave the man a sinister grin. “It’s a bigger town, more resources…odds are much higher they originated from there. So why not skip to the chase.”

Stain nodded slowly. “You got a point.” He turned to the others, “You heard the man. Move out.”

The bikers all started their engines and Roger held a hand out to Stain. “I need to radio Simon and let him know where we’re headed.”

Stain shook his head. “You ain’t good at holding on to radios. I’ll let him know.”

Roger nodded. “That works, too.”

He revved the engine then kicked the bike into gear. In his best Bugs Bunny imitation, he muttered, “I knew I should have taken that left turn at Albuquerque.”

“She’s burning up, doc.” Jason paced the tiny room while Vivian LaRue checked Bren’s vitals. “I know you said that it could be viral and if the meds didn’t take that it must be, but she can’t even hold down water anymore. She’s throwing up everything she’s eaten since kindergarten.” He implored with his eyes. “Please, you gotta do something.”

Vivian nodded as she stood. “She’s severely dehydrated. I need to get her on an IV right away.” She turned to walk out of the room and Jason followed her.

“You gonna put her in there with them?” His voice was barely a whisper.

Vivian had to take a moment to realize what he was asking. “Oh, no, no, no. I’ll send a gurney for her and we’ll take her to the infirmary. She’ll have round the clock care.” She gave him a reassuring smile and patted his arm. “I’ll send somebody straight away.”

He watched her walk away and he had to pause and collect himself before he went back into the small stateroom he shared with Bren. He saw her laying in sweaty sheets, tossing and turning fitfully. He sat beside her and held her hand in his own. “You’re gonna be just fine, baby. I promise. The doc’s gonna take good care of you.”

He lost track of time, and actually jumped when the door bounced open. Two large men in white entered, pulling a rolling bed with them. Jason didn’t have time to even speak as they gingerly lifted and shifted her to the gurney.

Jason opened his mouth to tell her goodbye, but she was gone too quickly. He turned back to her bed and cringed at the moisture she had left on the sheets. He picked them up with his fingertips and held them away from his body as he dumped them into a trash bag.

He had no idea what had gotten her so sick, but he shuddered every time he thought of what could be floating in the air, soaked into her sheets, or crawling on her skin.

Yes, he loved her and would do anything for her, but the knowledge she carried the very disease that killed off the grand majority of the human population was enough to give him the willies. The fact that something else had now made her sick twisted his guts. How could she be immune to a virus that gutted the population, but something else…something potentially worse was making her ill now? What chance would he have against such a disease?

He snatched up the antibacterial hand cleaner and squeezed a large gob onto his palms. After scrubbing it into his flesh, he then grabbed the can of spray disinfectant and sprayed down her mattress. He stood back and stared at the tiny room.

Jason went nuts and began spraying disinfectant on every horizontal surface. He sprayed the door knob, the little desk in the corner, the shelves above their beds, both beds, the bedding, the floor, the seams of the wall, anywhere a microbe might think it a good place to hide.

He had nearly emptied the can before he staggered back and stared at the mess he’d created. He opened the door and nearly fell out of the room from the propellants and the disinfectant that still lingered in the air.

“I gotta catch my breath.” He leaned against the bulkhead and made his way to the stairs leading up and out. He hoped that some fresh air might clear his head and give him a new perspective.

He stepped out into the evening air and inhaled deeply. He made his way to the railing and stared out at the flotilla. Was this all that was left now? Were they the only survivors of this attack by Mother Nature?

He leaned against the railing and spit out across the water. The taste of the disinfectant still lingered in his mouth. He inhaled deeply of the salty sea air and his thoughts turned back to Brenda. What if this bug was more than she could handle? What if this was another, stronger, more potent virus than the first one?

He pushed the thought from his mind and stared back at the doorway leading below decks. He really needed to check on her. He needed to know they really were taking care of her and not letting her rot in a corner somewhere.

He swallowed hard and hitched up his pants. Being Bren’s protector was a dirty job, but somebody had to do it.

“He’s turned them away from us.” Candy took the binoculars from the roof guard and stared in the direction he pointed. She could just make out a small group of motorcycles driving away from the warehouse. She followed them as they rode away and wished she could tell which one was actually Roger.

She lowered the binoculars and handed them back to the man standing sentry. “Keep an eye out. If they happen to come back this direction, I want to know.”

“You got it.” He took the optics from her and leaned against the parapet, his hands bringing them back to his face.

Candy worked her way back down and through the maze of makeshift homes toward Hatcher’s office. Vicky Sue slipped in beside her. “How you doing?”

Candy gave her little notice. “I’m fine.”

“You seem a little…distracted.”

She stopped and turned to Hatcher’s sister. “What does that mean?”

Vicky shrugged. “Just that I think the biker cop got to you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She turned and started back to the office. Vicky followed.

As Candy opened the door, Vicky held it open and followed her into the small space. “You miss him, don’t you?”

“I have no idea what you mean.” Candy fell into the chair behind the desk and reached for the drawer where Hatcher kept his booze. She grabbed the tallest bottle and pulled it out. Vicky set two glasses in front of her and leaned back in the chair across from the desk.

“I think you do.” She reached for the glass and held it up, the amber liquid sparkling under the brightness of the skylight overhead. “It’s okay to admit you liked him.”

Candy threw back her drink and set her glass down gently. “He was another cop, that’s all.” She poured two more fingers worth into the short glass. “It might have been nice to have another capable person available to help defend the place should the need arise.”

“Should the need arise.” Vicky sipped at the burning liquid. “That’s a choice set of words.”

“What?” Candy threw back the second drink and waivered with the bottle, unsure if she was going to pour a third.

“You know you can be straight with me, right?” Vicky swirled the liquor in her glass and eyed the bottle that Candy still held, unsure if she would pour that third double. “We’ve always shot straight with each other before. Why not now?”

Candy sighed and tilted the bottle, pouring another double before corking the bottle and dropping it back into the deep desk drawer. She picked up the glass and stared at the contents. The burn in her belly told her not to swallow this one. She could feel her head begin to swim and knew that if anything bad were to happen, she wouldn’t be able to deal with it while inebriated.

“He didn’t even say goodbye.” She held the glass to her mouth and sipped. She turned red eyes to Vicky. “I know it’s stupid of me. He just showed up, warned us about his group, and then—”

“Then he left to lead them away.” Vicky sipped at her own drink. “Sounds pretty honorable to me.”

Candy sniffed back a tear and threw back her drink. She swallowed hard and set the glass down on the desk. “I told him to just…” She turned watering eyes to Vicky. “I didn’t think he’d actually leave.”

Vicky set her drink down and took Candy’s hand. “I’d bet money he’ll be back.”

Candy shook her head. “Not without tipping his hand to them.” She looked away. “He should have stayed. We could have fought them off and…” her voice trailed off.

“And our people would have been put at risk.” Vicky patted her hand. “Like you said, he’s a cop. He wasn’t going to allow that to happen. He figured it was better to go back to them, pretend he never met us and do his damnedest to keep them away.”

Candy turned back to face her and shook her head slowly. “I barely know this guy.”

Vicky gave her a broad smile. “But he was definitely yummy.” She laughed and Candy let a snort slip.

“Yes, he was yummy.” She spun the empty glass on the table, her thoughts turning to how he made those leather pants look. “I can’t help but wonder if maybe I’d been more accepting of him when he first got here? Maybe…we would have had a little more time together.”

“You were being cautious.” Vicky threw back what was left of her drink and blew her breath out hard. “That stuff is stout. How do you handle it?”

Candy smiled. “I ignore the pain.” She turned a tight-lipped smile to Vicky. “Just like I’ll ignore this pain that I feel.”

“He really got to you, didn’t he?”

Candy shrugged. “I feel like I threw him to the wolves.” She leaned back in the chair and stared up at the skylight. “I’ll admit he is attractive…in a rough and scrubby way.”

“You like rough and scrubby.” Vicky smiled at her.

Candy chuckled, still staring upward. “What woman doesn’t?” She finally leaned forward and had to take a moment as her head spun. “I’m sure he was just flirting so that I’d let him loose.”

“Really.” Vicky wasn’t convinced.

Candy nodded. “If he was really interested, he would have stayed.”

Vicky squeezed her hand, then stood and reached for the door. “It’s because he cared that he left.” She opened the door and stepped out. “He had to keep you safe from the marauders.” She pulled the door shut quietly and left Candy to her thoughts.

Vicky could have sworn she heard a short sob as she turned and walked away.

Chapter 5

Hatcher stood on the porch and watched as the sun slowly sank on the horizon. At this exact moment in time, he found it difficult to believe that the world had gone to shit. For the briefest of moments, he could almost believe the world had survived the viral outbreak.

He stared at the view and sighed.

The world had gone to shit, and the universe didn’t care. The sun still set, and it would rise again in the morning. The moon would come out and slip across the night sky and the stars would continue to twinkle regardless of what had happened on this insignificant blue dot.

Dinosaurs had ruled the planet for millions of years and nobody batted an eye when they were wiped out. Humans had only been on this planet for a moment compared to the grand scheme of things, and what seemed so significant, so important, so earth shatteringly imperative, were really just man’s attempt at feeling empowered in an otherwise uncaring world.

He leaned against the railing of the porch and tried to make out the shadows below. They stretched out until they faded from view, and in his mind, the dark spots were moving. The dark blobs that were trees when the sun was still shining were now infected Zulus working their way up the mountain toward them.

He had to step away and stop staring to clear the thoughts from his mind. He glanced over his shoulder and could just make out the soldiers inside the house. Some were moving about, others were busy checking their gear or cleaning their weapons.

He looked up and wondered if the rooftop guards were still searching the western horizon for aircraft or if they had drifted off to sleep from the boredom. He was about to climb up and check on them when Hollis stepped out to the porch.

“I got a chili mac MRE if you want to trade.” He shot Hatcher a shitty grin that was lost in the darkness.

“I think I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Smart man.” Hollis ripped open the pack and settled next to him along the rail.

“Wouldn’t want to be caught on the toilet when the Zulus attack,” Hatcher joked.

“Copy that.”

Hatcher watched as the man dug through the contents. “You’re far braver than I am.”

Hollis chuckled. “I think your system gets used to them after a while.”

The pair stood on the porch, their eyes adjusting to the deepening darkness, neither speaking while the world went about its business. Soft sounds of movement could be heard behind them inside the house, but both knew their backs were covered by the men at their posts.

Buck appeared behind them, his eyes wide in the moonlight. “I can’t believe I slept so long.”

Hatcher’s brows knit as he considered what the boy said. “You were only out for a couple of hours.”

“Exactly.” Buck seemed worried and disappointed. “I never sleep more than a few minutes at a time.”

Hollis stopped chewing and stared at him. “Seriously, kid? That ain’t healthy. Not sleeping will rot your brain.”

Buck seemed to pale even more. “Being caught off guard by the zombies can get you dead.” He shivered involuntarily and settled along the rail between the two. “I feel like I let my guard down.”

Hatcher placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You can. At least for now. We got your back, Buck.”

He shook his head nervously. “Old habits and all that.” He glanced at the chili mac Hollis had refused to eat. “You gonna eat that?”

Hollis tossed it to him. “Have at it, kid. Just make sure your gut can handle it.” He watched the wiry teen tear into the bag and practically inhale the food. Hollis dug in his ruck and pulled out another MRE. “Slow down, kid. Maybe chew it a little. It will come out a lot easier if you grind it up first.” He shoved the MRE into Buck’s hand and shot Hatcher a knowing grin.

Hatcher sighed and stepped away from the rail. “I think I’m gonna catch a few winks myself.” He turned to Buck. “Don’t stay up too late. We might have a big day tomorrow.”

Buck nodded slightly as he inhaled everything edible in the plastic bag.

Hollis walked back inside and caught Hatcher just as he was entering a rear bedroom. “Tomorrow will be all about survival. We’ll need to find more water, possibly provisions.” He glanced back down the hallway and lowered his voice. “I wouldn’t count on help coming for at least a couple of days.”

Hatcher nodded knowingly. “We can break into groups and check the other houses for supplies first thing in the morning if you like.”

“Sounds good to me. Try to rest. We’ll start at sunup.” Hollis turned and left, and Hatcher peeled his outer shirt off. He tossed some of the junk off the bed and laid down. It took him a moment to relax and enjoy the softness of the mattress. Being stuck with an old Army cot at the warehouse had gotten him used to sleeping stiffly and he caught himself smiling at the cloudlike feel of the mattress.

“Ah, heaven…”

Roger rode slowly through the narrow streets, his headlight causing shadows along the edges of the road that unnerved him. Besides being wary of another attack from the infected, his mind kept turning back to Candy.

He enjoyed trying to get under her skin. He liked that he had an effect on her. He knew she did the right thing in telling him to leave, but he never thought that it would bother him. For the briefest of moments, he had allowed himself to gravitate to a new woman, and it wasn’t until now, as he rode Simon’s men away from the warehouse, he began to feel guilty.

His hand automatically went to his pocket where he kept the last physical reminder of his wife. He slowed the bike and was tempted to pull the photograph out. He felt the need to look at it and remember a time when the world wasn’t trying to kill each other off. He paused just short of unzipping the pocket when movement in the corner of his eye snapped his attention back to the here and now.

The quiet street that he and the men travelled was suddenly alive with screaming infected. He locked up his brakes and slid to a short stop. The road ahead was quickly filling with the rage-fueled monsters and he could see they were about to be surrounded.

He kicked the bike into gear and opened the throttle, spinning the bike around in the other direction.

“Move it!” Roger shouted as he accelerated through the group of bikers behind him. As he approached the screaming mass closing in their exit, he suddenly wished that the bike was smaller. Small enough he could effectively pop a wheelie and use the undercarriage as a shield. Instead, he ducked low against the tank of the bike and twisted the throttle full open.

Unexpectedly, the thin crowd widened and stepped aside, letting the Indian Chief slip past their trap. Roger glanced behind him, expecting to see the others shoot through the closing gap, but there was nothing.

He slowed the bike as he approached the next turn and stopped at the intersection. He stared behind him and saw the crowd closing further and further in on itself. He knew what was at the center of the formation and he shuddered at the violent end his men were now suffering.

They wouldn’t suffer long.

Roger stared at the crowd for a moment longer, then turned his attention back to the road. He kicked the Indian into gear once more and was about to let out the clutch, when he spotted something at the edge of his headlight beam.

Across the street, standing on the hood of an old Buick was a lone infected. He held a pipe in his hand.

Roger stared hard at the man, his mind trying to comprehend what his eyes were telling him. Could it be the same Zulu that attacked him earlier? He didn’t consciously decide to act, but he found his arm rising into the air. He gave the infected an open-handed wave and the man reacted.

He jumped to the roof of the car and shook the pipe over his head, much like his previous attacker had. Roger lowered his hand, feeling much the fool for thinking that the creature might respond in any fashion other than anger. He revved the engine and released the clutch.

He had someplace to be.

Jason stood over Bren’s still form, his eyes taking in the movements of her breathing. Each time she exhaled, he waited, hoping she would inhale again. He couldn’t be certain, but it seemed like the gap between breaths was growing longer with each rise of her chest.

He tore his eyes away from her and spotted Dr. LaRue. He approached her quietly and motioned her to the side. “Tell me she’s going to make it.”

He could see her eyes squint as she tried to smile under the mask she wore. “Of course, she will. She’ll be fine. We just need to get her strength back up.”

Jason blew his breath out hard and wiped at the sweat on his forehead. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it doc. She’s out like a light and can’t hear you.” He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “She’s really sick, ain’t she?”

“Well, of course she’s sick. Otherwise we wouldn’t have brought her here.”

Jason gave her a hard look. “You know what I mean. She’s got something. Something worse than the bug that killed off the whole world.”

Vivian shook her head, holding her gloved hands up to calm him. “We can’t know anything of the sorts. Most likely scenario is she’s contracted a virus since being here that her body is having trouble fighting off.” She pulled him to the side and tried to get him to sit. “With any infection, there are always risks of secondary infection. Meaning, yes, she probably has a viral infection, but that can cause bacterial infections as well. Because of that, we’ve put her on a pretty strong dose of antibiotics, and shortly we’ll be adding antivirals. We’ll keep pushing the fluids, and once she feels a little stronger we can—”

He stood and towered over her. “I don’t want any more of your rainbows and unicorns bullshit.” He pointed at her and glowered at the woman. “She’s sick.” He marched over to Bren’s bed and lifted her arm, letting it drop to the mattress. “She’s unresponsive. She’s out of it. Tell me this isn’t bad.”

“We can’t know what she’s—”

“There ya go again!” He marched over to the doctor and pulled her mask down hard. She jumped back, her hands quickly pulling the mask back up.

“Why would you do that?” Her eyes were as wide as saucers as she backed slowly from him.

“If she were just sick with some common bug from here on the ship, you wouldn’t be pissing your pants over that stupid mask.”

Her head shook nervously as she continued to back away from him. “We can’t risk infecting her with anything that…that we might have…”

He slowly approached her, his head shaking. “Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.” He jabbed a finger in her face. “You know it’s all bullshit.”

Vivian took a deep breath and stepped to the door. “Get him out of here. I don’t care if you put him in his room, lock him up, or…or…” She glanced at Jason and her eyes narrowed. “Or throw him off the damned boat and let him swim to shore. Just get him the hell out of here!”

Jason backed away, his hands up defensively, his eyes wide. “No! No, I want to stay with…get your hands off me!” He struggled against the two large men in white and was unceremoniously picked up and carried out of the infirmary.

Vivian watched him kick and scream as the two orderlies removed him from her workspace. She blew out a breath and gingerly sat down, her hands shaking as she pulled the mask from her face. “This shit is getting out of hand.”

Vicky slowly paced, her mind trying to grasp the big picture. “You’re telling me they’re learning?”

“I don’t know if I can say that, but they’re definitely acting differently.” Roger watched her walk back and forth across the small space and was feeling even more nervous from her actions. “I can’t even tell you for sure it was the same guy, but he was carrying a piece of pipe and shook it at me the same way.”

“And this was how many blocks from the first attack?”

He shrugged. “Maybe four? I’m pretty sure it was the next section line over. Each section is about a mile. The larger thru-streets are laid out about a mile apart and—”

She held her hand up to stop him. “I grew up here. I know what you mean.” She sighed and increased the speed of her pacing.

“Shouldn’t Candy be hearing this?”

Vicky paused and glanced toward the office. “I think she may be sleeping off a liquid lunch.”

Roger hiked a brow. “She’s lit?”

Vicky shrugged slowly. “She hasn’t been sleeping well lately. The liquid lunch was to calm her nerves.” She spun on him and seemed much more excited about the idea that popped into her head. “I mean, you did just drop a bombshell on us. The whole biker marauder thing…and telling her that they were practically knocking on our door…”

He nodded slowly. “So, she finds out there’s a threat and decides to get drunk. Nice.” He stood slowly and froze when he heard Candy’s voice.

“Not drunk.” She walked slowly toward the pair. “Just…resting a bit.” She stopped and eyed him carefully. “You’re back.”

He nodded. “We rode into a trap. The second one for me.” He sighed heavily. “Except this time, they didn’t make it out.”

“You seem awfully upset.” Candy’s voice was cold and detatched.

He looked up and met her gaze. “Not everybody who rides with Simon is a bad person.”

“No, they just do bad things in his name, right?”

He opened his mouth to argue, but knew that whatever he said, she’d find a way to twist it around on him. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me why you came back here.”

Roger gave her a confused look and she stepped closer, her voice rising in pitch and tempo. “Why did you decide to come back here, Roger?”

He stepped back slightly and raised his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry. I thought…”

“You thought what?” she nearly barked.

“Candy!” Vicky stomped her foot to get her attention.

“No. No, it’s a legitimate question.” Roger turned back to Candy. “I guess I thought maybe I could come back here and…I dunno. Try to build a life or something.” He shot her a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “I guess I was wrong.”

He spun and marched toward the doors. Vicky turned wide eyes to Candy. “You’re just going to let him leave?”

Candy watched him walk away, her mind fighting with her heart. Just as he reached for the door she yelled, “Stop!”

Roger held the door slightly open and waited. He didn’t want to look over his shoulder in case she had pulled a gun on him…not that he would blame her. He wouldn’t trust himself, either.

“Come back,” Vicky implored. “We can work this out. She just needs to hear what you told me.”

“What did he tell you?”

Roger approached them slowly, his face unreadable. “When I left, I rode into a trap. One of the infected…acted smart.” He gave her a knowing look that she completely missed. “I escaped and ran into the boys from the pack. We rode about a mile over and damned if we didn’t run into another trap.”

“That you escaped from,” Candy added.

“I was the only one.”

She smirked. “How convenient.”

“Why are you being such a bitch?” Vicky asked. She leaned in close and whispered, “No more brown liquor for you.”

Roger chose to ignore the comment.

“At the time, I wasn’t worried about convenience. But I did think that maybe it was a way for me to get out. If I had someplace to go, I could take my bike back over there and dump it with theirs. When Simon rides through town and finds the remains, he’d think I bit it right along with them.”

She considered his words and had to swallow the lump forming in her throat. She didn’t want to imagine he wanted to return to their group. Part of her wished he had just kept on riding. That way if nothing came of her fantasies, she couldn’t be hurt by it.

The other part was glad he’d come back. She wanted him to stay. She just didn’t want to tell him that.

She took a deep breath and nodded slightly. “Vicky, have one of the boys follow him back. Let him dump the bike and give him a ride back.”

Roger hiked a brow at her. “I can stay?”

She nodded ever so slightly. “Just make sure it looks like you didn’t survive the trap.” She turned and walked back to the office.

She needed a hair of the dog.

Chapter 6

Hatcher jumped when Hollis shook his foot to wake him. “The sun’s up.”

Hatcher rolled to the edge of the mattress and felt the bones in his back pop and crack. He stretched slowly and was surprised that sleeping on such a soft surface would cause him to ache the way he did.

“Fuck me, getting old sucks.” He groaned as he stood and pulled his overshirt back on. He tugged his boots on and quickly laced them.

Hollis tossed an MRE at him. “I think it’s an omelet. Not sure that I’d trust one myself, but in case you’re hungry.”

Hatcher glanced at the brown bag and shook his head. “I’m not gonna eat it. Hey, let’s get Mikey.”

Hollis missed the joke. “Who’s Mikey?”

Hatcher rolled his eyes and tossed it back to him. “Give it to the, kid. He looks like he’s missed enough meals.”

Hollis grunted. “He’s eaten two already.” He shook his head and shot Hatcher a lopsided grin. “If we go anywhere in the trucks today, he’s not riding with me.”

Hatcher fought back a smile as he slowly stood and tested his aching muscles. “Let’s do this. The day isn’t getting any younger.”

The pair walked out to the driveway and Hatcher opened the door as Hollis walked past the truck. “It’s just over that hill.” He waved to the ranger. “No sense wasting fuel.”

“What if there’s more than we can carry?” He closed the door and fell into step beside him.

“Then we make two trips.” Hollis scanned the brushy woods surrounding the house. “I feel like there’s eyes on us. I don’t want to attract any more than we already have.”

Hatcher couldn’t argue with the logic.

The hike to the nearest house was much farther than either man had thought. They were glad it was uphill so that the return to base with a load of supplies could be easier.

Hatcher tried to peek into the windows, but the gloom inside prevented him from seeing anything. “We could knock.”

Hollis shrugged. “If there’s any Zeds inside, they already know they have neighbors.” He kicked the door open and his men streamed inside. They performed a standard tactical sweep and declared the building clear.

Hollis went to the garage and Hatcher checked the kitchen. As he prowled through the remains, Buck approached, breathing hard. “Why didn’t you tell me you were heading out? I wanted to come with you.”

“You were eating. Besides, we’re just getting supplies.” Hatcher opened a cabinet door and pulled out a partial bottle of whiskey. He dropped it into the pillow case and continued digging.

“There should still be food stuffs. I couldn’t carry much when I checked these places.” Buck kicked at the debris littering the floor. He suddenly looked up and smiled. “I’ll be right back.”

Hatcher watched him disappear and reappear a moment later carrying a large package of toilet paper. “This stuff is worth its weight in gold.” The kid shook the package at him and Hatcher fought a smile.

“Tired of leaves?”

“My butt is.” Buck spun a chair around and fell into it. “You do realize that the wrong leaves can do some serious damage, right?”

“Like poison ivy?” Hatcher tried not to think of the consequences.

“Worse. Some of them can cut you.” Buck gave him a knowing look. “I’m sure you’ve had a paper cut before? Imagine one…down there.”

“I’d rather not.” Hatcher dropped more goods into the bag and tied the corners together with twine. He slung it over his shoulder and pulled out the next one.

“The Army guys have MRE’s. Why gather all of this stuff?”

Hatcher paused, unsure if he wanted to tell the kid everything. He set the bag down and turned back to the cabinets. “They might not send somebody after us. If that’s the case, we’re gonna have to drive to the closest radio that will reach their command, and that might take a while.”

Buck nodded slowly. “Better to stock up and not need it. I gotcha.”

“That’s the plan, anyway.” Hatcher finished clearing the cabinets and tied the corners of that pillow case. He handed it to Buck. “I think that’s it.”

Hollis stepped back in from the garage. “They have a gas grill out here and the propane tank is full.”

Hatcher shrugged. “IED?”

“Only as a last resort.”

A soldier stepped around the corner holding a box. “Pantry is empty, sir.”

“Let’s head back.” Hollis picked through the contents of the box and nodded. “It may be a hodgepodge, but it beats MRE’s.” He grabbed a pillow case from Hatcher and hoisted it over his shoulder. “Last one back cooks supper.”

Hatcher grunted. “Trust me, you don’t want me to cook. You’d be better off eating your Ramen noodles raw.”

“Then I guess we better beat the kid back ’cuz I can’t cook for shit, either.”

Buck smiled to himself. “Try eating raw fish. It sustains you, but it sure is hard to choke down.”

“It’s just sushi, kid. Back before the world died, people used to pay big bucks for that crap,” Hollis said, pushing him towards the door.

“I doubt they wanted it with scales, bones, and guts.”

“And I thought mercury levels was the thing to worry about.”

Hollis’ radio barked to life. “Sir, we have contact!”

Roger laid his jacket down over what he thought was once an arm. It had been stripped clean of flesh, and there was surprisingly little blood. He picked up the jacket again and walked to another area, looking for something bloody to smear on it.

“Just drop the damned thing and let’s get out of here.”

Roger looked to Henry and shook his head. “It needs to look like there was a struggle.”

Henry snorted. “That jacket is so roughed up, it already looks like there was a struggle.” He climbed down from the pickup and walked into the middle of the kill zone. He snatched the jacket from Roger and slapped it a few times on the dark spots on the ground then slammed the back of the jacket against a jagged piece of metal that had once been a car door, spearing it into place.

“There. That looks struggly.” He turned to Roger and gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Now can we please get the hell out of here?”

Roger nodded. He knew there was something he was forgetting. The pair walked back to the truck and he pulled the door open. As soon as his boot hit the step rail, he remembered. “Just a second!”

Roger jogged back to his jacket and dug around the front breast pocket. He pulled out the faded picture of his wife and stared at it for just a moment. He ran his hand gingerly across the side of her face, then slipped it into his shirt pocket.

As he climbed into the truck Henry gave him an odd look. “What did you forget?”

“A reminder of the past.” Roger gave him a crooked grin.

Henry started the truck and pulled slowly away from the trap. Roger stared out the passenger side window and gave a silent farewell to his beloved Indian.

He had accelerated it to the site and stepped off the left side, letting it coast and wobble into the parked cars. He nearly cried when the forks bent around the front wheel and the bike flipped up and to its side next to a blue Nissan.

Surely Simon would realize he must be dead. No biker in his right mind would let his ride get fucked up like that.

He prayed he was right.

He realized that Henry had been talking while he was lost in thought and he had to interrupt him. “Sorry. My mind was somewhere else. What were you saying?”

The large man sighed heavily and pointed to the right. “We cleaned out a grocery store earlier that hadn’t been touched.”

“Seriously?”

He smiled at him. “Heck, yeah. Thing was locked up tight and we cleaned it out…well, as best we could. I’m sure we missed a bunch, but we got all of the good stuff.”

Roger had to smile back. “I wouldn’t have thought there would be anything untouched by now.”

“I know, right?” Henry’s face fell. “We reckon that means that there ain’t no more survivors, though. So, I guess the news isn’t entirely good.”

Roger tried to grasp what he was saying. There had to be close to ninety thousand people in this town, and the few families that made the warehouse home was all that was left?

“How many are you?”

Henry shrugged. “I haven’t counted. Probably a couple hundred if you count the kids.”

“And that’s all that’s left?”

Henry sighed and nodded. “As far as we can tell.” He suddenly perked up. “That don’t mean that there can’t be more groups like us out there…we just ain’t found them.”

Roger tried not to dwell on the idea. Less than one percent of the town’s population still lived. He pushed the thought from his mind. “So, tell me about this Daniel guy.”

“Hatcher? He’s okay, I guess.” Henry slowed the truck for a turn and eyed the biker across from him. “Why you asking?”

“Candy mentioned him. I’m guessing he’s kind of the leader, yeah?”

Henry nodded. “He’s a pretty good guy. He grew up here. Went to college, became a park ranger or some such. I’m pretty sure they said he worked at Yellowstone, but he came home once the shit hit the fan.” Henry pulled the truck up to the chain link gate and nodded to the guards. “He needed to know that his family was okay.”

“I’m guessing they didn’t make it?”

Henry shrugged. “I dunno about anybody else, but the nurse, Vicky? That’s his sister.”

Roger waited until the pickup was pulled into the warehouse and the doors locked behind them.“And now he’s run off with the military trying to find a cure?”

“That’s the word.” Henry shut the engine off and opened his door. “Don’t worry, though. He ain’t pining for Candy.”

Roger did a double-take. “Excuse me?”

Henry shot him a toothy grin. “They’re like oil and water. They work well together, but they don’t mix.” He shut the door and leaned across the open window. “She’s available. If you’re looking.” He shot a wink at the biker, then turned to leave.

Roger wondered why the large man would say something like that. True, he’d flirted with her when he’d first arrived, but he was just trying to lighten the mood. Did everybody think he was serious?

He stepped from the truck and felt the stiffness of the photo in his shirt pocket. His hand brushed the photo and he tried not to feel guilty.

Did he have a reason to feel that way? He saw Candy practically jog across the warehouse and talk to a man with a rifle. He nodded quickly then turned and left. She wrote something down on a clipboard, then turned and walked away.

Roger realized he was checking her out as she left and had to look away. He slammed the door of the truck and marched toward the back of the warehouse.

He flopped down on his makeshift bed and pulled the photo from his pocket. He placed it gently at the head of the mattress and propped it against an old shelf. He stared at his wife’s image and for the first time ever, the pain of her loss didn’t pull the air from him.

He knew it was past time to let go. He just wasn’t sure if he knew how.

Vivian awoke and sat up slowly from her desk chair. She hated falling asleep at work. It always meant she had pushed herself too far and would now pay the price with stiff joints and aching muscles.

She walked out of her office and glanced in at Bren. Vivian stared at her still form for a moment then pushed the door open. She walked over to her and pressed her fingers against the girl’s wrist. She suddenly reached up and pressed against her neck.

She could tell by the coolness of her skin that the young girl was gone. She stepped back and bent her head low, saying a silent prayer.

She spun and entered the lab. “Who was watching Miss Wilkes last night?”

One of the nurses raised her hand. “I just checked on her about an hour ago. Her IV was low so I hung a new one.”

“She’s dead.” Vivian nearly choked on the words. She looked around the room, then settled back on the nurse. “I’ll have to notify her boyfriend. Have you seen him?”

The group shook their heads and the nurse stepped forward. “I haven’t seen him since you had him removed.”

For the briefest of moments, Vivian feared the men had tossed his skinny ass overboard, but she quickly pushed the idea out of her head. She took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ll inform him. Meanwhile, exsanguinate her. We need every drop you can get.”

She turned to leave when the Command Duty Officer pushed the door open. “Dr. LaRue.”

She tried to step past him. “I was on my way out.”

“I just came to inform you…”

She paused at the door and turned to him, her face hopeful. “What did the Colonel say?”

The man pulled her aside and lowered his voice. “He said that he knew exactly where Captain Andrews was performing his research.”

“And?”

“And…they are weighing the options of sending another chopper out to check on the collection team. IF they decide to go, then he sees no reason why they can’t stop at Fort Collins and collect the man’s research.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “He also thought that it was a hell of an idea to dig through his papers. He actually said, ‘Kudo’s to Dr. LaRue.’”

“Kudos?”

He shrugged. “He’s old school, ma’am. I’m confident he was paying you a compliment.”

She stood taller and squared her shoulders. “I want to go.”

The lieutenant’s eyes widened. “Ma’am?”

“If anybody could recognize the research, it’s me. I’d be the perfect choice.”

He shook his head. “No, ma’am. You’re far too valuable to allow—”

“I said I’m going and that’s that Lieutenant. You can inform the colonel of my intentions.”

She spun and marched from the room. He watched her go and wondered aloud, “How do I explain this to them?”

Vicky stared at the calendar and whispered a silent epithet. “Why aren’t you back yet, Daniel?”

“You always talk to yourself?”

She looked up at Candy and gave her a curt nod. “I’m worried about Danny. He should have been back by now.”

Candy leaned against the doorjamb and gave her a soft smile. “He’ll be fine. I know it.”

“How? How can you ‘know it’?”

Candy pushed off the doorway and entered the small infirmary. “This is Daniel Fucking Hatcher you’re talking about.” She gave her a face of false bravado. “The man who single-handedly saved all of us at Ground Zero when the world went to shit. If anybody can handle himself out there, it’s him.” She plopped into Vicky’s chair and shot her a cheesy grin. “Besides, there’s not a person alive that knows that area like he does.”

Vicky sighed and leaned against the wall. Her legs were beginning to tingle from sitting on the floor cross-legged for too long and the files in her lap were unceremoniously dumped to the side. She slowly came up from the floor and let the blood back into her ankles.

“If it was anybody else, I’d probably agree with you. But this is my brother.” She blew her breath out and gave Candy a serious look. “He doesn’t exactly have a strong lucky side to him.”

Candy leaned forward and lowered her voice. “He doesn’t need luck, Vic. The man has skills. Trust me, I saw them firsthand when I was out there.”

Vicky shook her foot and tapped it against the floor when the pins and needles stopped tingling. “I’m sure that to you, he’s ten-foot-tall and bulletproof. To me, he still trips over his own shadow and breaks his arm.” She sighed as she sat on the edge of the desk. “He’s still eight to me.”

Candy snorted. “Trust me, he’s not eight. And he’s not reckless.”

Vicky stared off into the shadows and tried not to dwell on him. She suddenly perked and decided a subject change would do her a world of good. “I wonder how Jason and Bren are doing?”

Candy’s brows furrowed. “The young couple he left with?” She shrugged. “I hope they find a damned cure from them.”

“Me, too.” Vicky bent and picked up the files from the floor. “But I’m not holding my breath.” She slipped them back into the filing cabinet, then slowly turned to face her. “I’ve heard people talking, ya know. They tend to think the virus was created by the government.”

“Pfft!” Candy snorted. “I think that’s giving them too much credit.”

Vicky gave her a sideways glance. “You don’t think it’s possible?”

“Oh, anything is possible. I just don’t think that even our government could create something like that without some idiot blowing the whistle on them.” She stood from the chair and offered it back. “I mean, I could see them trying to weaponize it and all, but I’d bet money that incident at the park was the first time people had ever seen or heard of it.” She shook her head as she remembered how the infected acted. “It was too gruesome, Vic. There’s no way our government would do something like that on purpose.”

Vicky raised a brow. “Have you seen some of the weapons we’ve used? The chemical agents they’ve used?”

Candy held her hand up to stop her. “I don’t want to think about it.” She stepped aside and pushed the door shut. “Look, I didn’t come here to talk about the sins of our government.”

Vicky nodded and shot her a cheesy grin. “You wanted to talk about Roger, didn’t you?”

Candy crossed her arms and raised a brow at her.

Vicky laughed. “Well, didn’t you?”

Candy’s shoulders slumped. “Am I that transparent?”

“Girl, have a seat.”

Chapter 7

Hollis barked orders to his men and pushed Hatcher back from the doorway. “We have incoming.”

Hatcher grabbed Buck and pulled him deeper into the house. “Find a safe place and lay low.”

Buck reached to his hip and pulled out his hunting knife, catching Hatcher’s eye. He raised a brow at the knife. “I didn’t know you had that.”

“There’s a lot about me you don’t know.” He stepped back toward the darkness of the hallway. “You really think I survived out here with just my wits and my swinging cock?”

Hatcher shot him a surprised look. “Easy there, Rambo. You just caught me off guard is all.”

More weapons fire had the pair cringing. Any hopes of keeping their location a secret was blown to hell.

Hollis entered the room and checked the magazine of his rifle. “I radioed for transport.” He slammed the magazine back into the well. “Don’t count on sleeping tonight.”

Buck nodded. “They’re definitely more active after sundown.” He glanced toward a window and a fast-moving blur shot past. “I’d bet money these assholes are scouts.”

Hatcher turned and faced him. “You’re telling me they know to do recon before sending the main force?”

Buck shrugged. “I’ve seen them do it when hunting and—”

“And what?” Hollis barked.

“And before they attack another clan.” Buck pointed to the window. “They’re coming from the woods!”

Hollis spun and fired wildly at the window, shattering the glass and painting the wall with holes.

Buck held his hands over his ears. “Jeezus! Did you have to do that inside?”

“Shut up and take cover, kid!” Hollis pushed past him and pressed against the wall near the broken window. He glanced out and checked both directions. “I’ve got nothing.”

Hatcher stared out the window across the room. “They’re back in the woods.” He brought his rifle up, but stopped short of squeezing the trigger. “They’re gone.”

“Did you get any of them?” Buck asked.

Hollis called on the radio for a sitrep. None of the men reported killing an infected, but there was certainly wounded.

Buck groaned at the news. “If we could have had a body…,” he trailed off.

“What good would that do?” Hatcher asked as he stepped back to the center of the room.

“After they attack another clan, they hang the dead on spikes in the ground. The others won’t come near them.” Buck shrugged as he slid his knife back into the sheath. “I don’t know if it’s just a warning or if they’re scared of it.”

Hollis radioed the men outside to look for a blood trail. If there was a body, he wanted it. He turned to Buck and gave him a hopeful look. “If there’s any chance that hanging a body off the roof will keep them at bay, I’m all for it.”

Hatcher turned at the sound of the approaching Humvee. “Gather the loot and let’s get the hell out of here.”

They rode in silence to the house they had set up as a command post. Hollis continually scanned the surrounding forest. “Eyes open, people. If you spot any of them, I want the body.”

Hatcher carried his bags inside and dumped them unceremoniously on the counter. “Buck, look in the garage and see if you can find anything we can use to hold this crap. A plastic tub, boxes, whatever. If we need to bug out, I want this stuff easy to load.”

“Got it.” He turned for the garage and Hatcher stared after him. He didn’t know why it was so important to him to get this kid safely off the mountain, but he felt it was his mission in life. Maybe it was to make up for his inability to save Mitch? He didn’t want to delve too deeply into his own neurosis.

“I’m sending a patrol out to search for Zeds. If they’re still watching us, I want a body to hang off the front porch.” Hollis stated as he began to reload his magazines.

“Do you really think that’s safe?”

He tapped the magazine on the counter, then slipped it into the pouch on his MOLLE vest. “Safe or not, I want to know if they’re out there.” He lowered his voice and checked toward the garage. “And if the kid is right, and stringing up a dead Zed will keep them away, you damned skippy I want one.”

Hatcher blew his breath out hard. “I can’t see where displaying a body would curtail their attacks.” He made sure that Buck wasn’t in ear shot. “I can see how it might be some kind of warning amongst them, but we’re not infected. We’re their prey.”

Hollis leaned on the counter. “You know, my grandpa had a farm. If coyotes came close, he’d shoot one and hang it on the fence. He said it kept the others away.” He turned and eyed Hatcher. “Do you really think the coyotes cared if it was the old man that shot that carcass and left it? Do you think it would be any less effective if the chickens had done it themselves?” He shook his head. “If it works for the Zeds, it will work for us.”

Hatcher tried not to smile. “Personally, I’d be a hell of a lot more impressed if the chickens did it.”

Hollis gave him a stoic stare. “Well, buddy, in this analogy, we’re the chickens.”

Simon stared at the ruined jacket. He held it up to the daylight and saw the puncture mark through the colors he had given the owner. The leather was jagged where the steel had speared through the spine of the garment.

“There’s no blood inside.” He tossed the jacket aside.

“There was plenty on the ground boss.” Scud shook his head as he handed him a sack with human bones in it. “These were scattered everywhere.”

Simon dumped the bag and his face twisted. “A half-dozen good men lost. And for what?” He kicked the bones out of his path. “A fuckin’ manwich for the ragers.”

Scud fell into step behind him. “We never got word from Squirrel. We don’t know if he tracked down the guy from the truck or not.”

Simon spun on him, his face red with anger. “You really think that’s my priority right now?”

Scud shook his head nervously. “N-no idea, boss. I was just saying.”

“Say it somewhere else.” He turned and stormed away.

Scud turned back to the group and shrugged. “No idea what we’re gonna do.” He glanced over his shoulder at Simon’s retreating form. “I guess, smoke ’em if you got ’em.”

“We need to know if we’re setting up camp or hitting the road, Scud. We got kids that ain’t et all day.” The comment came from a worn and filthy woman, her rags hanging from her frail form.

Scud turned and stared at the woman. “If I knew, I’d tell ya.”

“Screw this.” Savage stood up and squared his shoulders. He was by far the largest and scariest looking of the group. Many had wondered how he had ever allowed Simon to run roughshod over him. “We gotta get our shit together.”

Scud watched the man follow Simon and feared that it was about to get real. He trotted after Savage and yelled for him. “Hey! Wait up, man.” He caught up with him and fell into step alongside. “What you got in mind?”

“I’m flat-out gonna ask him.” He paused and looked for which direction Simon may have gone. “We need direction. Either we’re gonna set up camp or we’re gonna keep moving.”

“He may not be sure yet, Savage. I mean, this is a pretty big thing to have to process and—”

“The fuck it is!” Savage spun on him, a finger in his face. “He’s the leader. We need him to lead.”

“What the fuck is your problem?” Simon stepped out from behind a box van.

Savage turned and stared at the man. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. He stepped toward Simon and lowered his voice. “We need you to step up right now.” He pointed back at the crowd. “They need to know what to do. Either they pack up and prepare to move out or we find a spot to set camp.”

Simon raised a brow. “And if I don’t decide?”

Savage squared his shoulders and crossed his arms over his massive chest. “Then maybe somebody makes the decision for you.”

Scud groaned and stepped between the two. “He didn’t mean that to sound like it did, boss. He’s not demanding nothin’.”

Savage turned a hateful glare at Scud. “Don’t be telling me what I mean, muthafucker. I’m a grown-assed man and can talk for myself.” He pushed Scud hard enough to knock him to the ground. He turned back to Simon. “I don’t give two shits what you think I’m doing.” He pointed to the crowd of people waiting to know what to do. “But they damned sure expect you to do your job.”

Simon gave Savage a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “And you? Are you expecting me to do my god damned job?”

Savage growled low in his throat. “This ain’t no pissing contest. I’ve had your back since this shit started, and you know I still have it. But you stomping off to have a pity party ain’t the way to show them you’re their leader.” He bent low and lowered his voice. “You got families out there. They need to know that you’re gonna step up.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Simon stepped forward and poked Savage in the chest. “You think I’m not aware of what’s happening?” He turned and glared at Scud. “What about you, dick breath? You gonna question my ability, too?”

Scud shook his head. “Nobody’s questioning you, boss. They just need to know what you want them to do.”

Simon shot him a tight-lipped smile. “Fine. Tell them to set up camp. Do what they got to do. Send some boys out to scrounge up food while they do.”

“What about the bones?” Savage asked, his eyes narrowing. “They were our foot soldiers. They deserve a decent burial.”

Simon turned and glared at him. “Then fucking bury them. I don’t care if you toss ’em to the damned dogs.” He threw his hands into the air. “If they’d done their fucking jobs, we wouldn’t have to deal with any of this shit.”

He turned and marched off again.

Scud looked to Savage and shook his head. “Man, I knew you shouldn’t have—”

Savage pushed him down again. “Shut up, Shitstain.”

Scud rolled to his side and watched both men march away in different directions. “Join a motorcycle club, they said. It’ll be fun, they said…”

“There is no way I’m going to allow a civilian to go on a military operation.” Colonel Vickers stood behind his desk, his finger jabbing into the fake wood top.

“I understand that, sir, but she’s adamant.” The duty officer stood at attention. “While I agree it goes against procedure, she is correct in her assumption.”

Vickers raised a brow. “And what assumption might that be?”

“That she would be best suited to determine what was relevant research and what wasn’t.”

Vickers eyed the man as he sat. “What about Captain Hollis? Isn’t he assisting in her duties?”

The duty officer shook his head slightly. “She claims that he’s in the way more than anything. He’s not skilled in the work they do, and his laboratory procedures are…less than desirable.”

Vickers snorted. “Beggars can’t be choosers.” He leaned back in his chair and rocked slightly, his mind working. “These are…troubling times, to say the least. We’re literally scraping together what we can to keep things going. We can’t expect experts in every—”

“Sir? If I may?” The duty officer interrupted. “I understand your misgivings about allowing her to go. Honestly, sir, I share those same misgivings. But after rethinking the situation, I think it might not be such a bad idea.”

Vickers raised a brow at him and leaned forward. “You can’t possibly agree with her?”

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

Vickers waved the man on. “These aren’t the times to stand on protocol, lieutenant.”

The man smiled. “Exactly, sir. That’s exactly my reasoning.”

“I’m not following you.”

“Colonel, she’s worked in the field for decades and now she’s trapped on a ship. Her only human interaction has been with other…eggheads.” Vickers smiled slightly at the expression. “Allowing her out into the field gives her a break, and we can be assured that the mission would be carried out as quickly as possible.”

Vickers pursed his lips as he mulled the idea. “I still don’t like it, but you make good points. Allowing our lead researcher a field trip might not be such a bad idea.” He turned empty eyes to the command duty officer. “Maybe if she gets a taste of something else, she’ll redouble her efforts to find an answer to this plague.”

“Exactly, sir.”

Vickers stood and the CDO jumped to attention. “Very well, lieutenant. Inform the good doctor her request has been granted. We’ll send her out on a chopper to check on Hollis and his people. But she is to remain inside the transport at all times until they reach Fort Collins. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Dismissed.” Vickers watched the man do an about-face and exit his office. He stepped to the small wet bar and poured himself a whiskey. As he savored the drink he tried not to imagine where they’d be if anything happened to LaRue.

He swirled the dark amber liquid in the glass and threw it back quickly. “Do not let us down, doctor. Too much is at stake now.”

“Is this really necessary?” Roger asked as he peeled his shirt off.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Vicky swallowed hard, her eyes shooting over her shoulder and behind the curtain that Candy was pacing behind.

“I’m obviously not infected.” Roger pulled first one boot off, then the other.

“By all rights, we should have done this the moment you walked in here.” Vicky scribbled something on her chart and kept her back turned to him. “We check everybody new that comes in. You just…slipped through the cracks.” She swallowed hard and watched Candy’s shadow pace back and forth.

“If I was infected, I’m pretty sure I’d have indications by now.” Roger tossed his pants onto the stool and sighed.

Vicky nodded. “I’m sure. But we did find a young lady not too long ago that had been scratched and didn’t turn. We believe she is immune.” She cleared her throat and pretended to write more in her chart. “That’s who Hatcher was escorting north when he ran into…well…your people.”

“You mean Simon’s people. I was just…” He trailed off. “Right. My people.”

Vicky glanced at the pants on the stool. “You’ll have to be…uh…completely…”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ready doc.” Roger sighed.

Vicky turned and had to catch her breath. “You, um…certainly…” She averted her eyes.

Roger leaned to the side and waved his hand in front of her face. “Doc? I’m over here. I’m sure I ain’t got nothing you ain’t seen before.”

She nodded, her face flushing. “You’re correct. I just haven’t seen it put together quite like this before.”

Roger shrugged. “I’m naturally lean. I get it from my mom’s side of the family.” He gave her his best smile, then slowly turned around. “See? No bites, no scratches.” He glanced over at the curtain and noticed that Candy was no longer pacing. “No hickies, either.”

Vicky snorted as she glanced over her shoulder and could nearly see Candy freeze. “I hate to ask, but…” Roger gave her a questioning look. She swallowed hard and tried not to blush. “Could you lift…your…” She pointed.

Roger grinned at her and shook his head. “Sorry, doc. My last doctor told me not to lift anything heavy. Bad back, ya know.”

Vicky flustered and Roger chuckled to himself. “Sorry. Bad joke.” He lifted and allowed her to inspect.

Vicky quickly turned away. “All done. There’s a basin with warm water and soap if you’d like to wash. Fresh towels are right behind you.”

Roger shook his head. “I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”

Candy raised her voice, even though it was a sheer curtain between them, “We can have some brought in for you. We have a community clothes stash.”

Roger shrugged. “Okay, then. Why not.” He picked up the hotel-sized soap and flashed Vicky another brilliant smile. “Any chance for a razor, too?”

She flushed and nodded. “I’ll have one brought in for you.”

As she exited the exam area, Candy fell into step with her. She waited until the door was closed before stopping her. “Well?”

Vicky’s face flushed and she waved at her face with her hand. “Oh. My. God.”

Candy’s eyes bulged. “What?”

“He’s…perfect.” She whispered breathlessly. “I’m talking romance novel cover boy perfect. Thick chest, abs that go all the way down to his…” She blushed again and held her hands up.

“I meant, that he cleared your check up.” Candy gave her a deadpan stare.

“Oh!” Vicky’s eyes widened. “Yes, of course. Clear as a bell.”

Candy couldn’t hold her face any longer and slowly cracked into a grin. She pulled Vicky toward where the spare clothes were stored. “So, tell me,” she said seductively, “what kind of clothes should I get him?”

“Big.” Vicky nodded. “Long. And big.”

Candy’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“At least a 2X. The man has a chest as wide as my office.” She gave her an impish grin. “Let’s dress him like a lumberjack.”

“Ooh. I love flannel.”

Chapter 8

“And pull the trucks into a semi-circle around the front entrance. If we have to bug out, I want them close and ready to roll.” Hollis lifted the aluminum case and carried it with him into the house. “No matter what else happens, this case is priority one. It has to be delivered back to the research ship.”

He stepped into the cool darkness of the house and slumped against the counter. Hatcher approached slowly. “What’s going on out there?”

“My guys are seeing shadows everywhere.” He turned worried eyes to Hatcher. “They’re battle hardened, but they’re starting to spook.”

Hatcher glanced over his shoulder to the men working outside. “If they’re rattled, I can’t tell it.”

Hollis nodded. “Like I said, they’re seasoned vets. They won’t show it, but I can see it in their eyes.”

Hatcher tried to think of something positive to change the subject. “Well, if worse comes to worse, we have a couple more days’ worth of food.” He shrugged. “If you count Spam as food.”

Hollis groaned. “That’s almost as bad as MRE’s.” He pushed off the counter and stepped to the window to stare out at his men reinforcing the perimeter. “Sticking around might not have been such a grand idea.”

Hatcher nodded slowly, his mind trying to find the right words. He settled on, “I’m sorry.”

Hollis turned and gave him a questioning look. “What for?”

“This was my idea. Sticking around and praying that a second transport comes for us.”

Hollis turned back to the window. “I gave the order. The decision was mine.” He pulled the window open and waved a soldier over, “I want gunners on the first and last trucks. Double the men on the roof.”

The man barked a Yes, sir and disappeared.

Hatcher appeared by his side. “If you really think it’s going to be that hairy, I can take a shift up there as well.”

Hollis shook his head. “I’m counting on you to get this case back to the ship in the event me or my men…can’t.” He poked Hatcher in the chest. “That means you stay alive. No matter what.”

Hollis turned and marched back outside, barking orders as he went. Buck silently appeared behind Hatcher. “I think he likes you.”

“He just thinks I can be useful.” Hatcher groaned as he sat in the wooden dining chair. “There’s a big difference.”

Buck sat on the other side of the table and stared at the case. “Do you really think they can find a cure with that crap?”

Hatcher shrugged. “That’s why we’re here, kid. They must think this muck is pretty important to risk coming back here.”

Buck ran his hand along the smooth outer shell. “Sorta makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” Hatcher gave him a questioning stare. “Where it comes from. I mean, is it something that Mother Nature whipped up in her kitchen to kill off an overpopulated species, or was it man-made?”

“I can’t imagine anybody in their right mind making this stuff on purpose.” Hatcher stared at the case and wished it was locked up somewhere else. “If Mother Nature cooked this stuff up, she is one twisted mother.”

Buck nodded. “Sorta makes you wonder about things like the dinosaurs. Was it really a meteor that took them out, or were they exposed to something like this?”

Hatcher started to laugh until he really thought about a Zulu T-Rex. He was pretty certain those creatures were mean enough without being infected by a rage virus.

“How do you think of this stuff?”

Buck shrugged. “When you’re stuck with nobody to talk to and have to stay quiet to keep from being eaten, all sorts of weird thoughts run through your head.”

Hollis burst through the front doors. “We have one!”

Hatcher was on his feet and following him, Buck in tow. “Did they track down one of the wounded?”

Hollis shook his head. “This one is alive.”

Simon paced the tent he called home. His mind kept going over the digital photos his men took at the scene. He couldn’t imagine the force necessary to overtake a half-dozen of his men.

“Why didn’t they jump the second group?” He tugged at his beard while his mind played tricks with him.

“Maybe they were still full from the first attack.” Scud suggested.

Simon shook his head. “They don’t need a reason to attack. They’re simple-minded animals. Like a rabid dog. Or a shark. They’ll bite just because they can.” He continued pacing. “No, there was something else going on.”

His remaining lieutenants lined the interior walls of his tent. They tried not to watch him as he paced and tugged at his beard, two things that Simon always seemed to do when distraught.

“There had to be something else going on…something distracted the men. Got them caught in the trap.” He began kicking up dust in the dry packed earth as he marched back and forth. “Something that pulled the ragers attention from the trap while the other boys sniffed around…” He stopped pacing and turned hate-filled eyes to his men. “Something stinks here.”

Slasher turned and stared at the man they called Swamp Donkey. “I think that’s code for take a bath, you smelly fucker.” He grinned at him through stained teeth.

“Cut the bullshit!” Simon barked. “We lost six of our own here.”

The men fidgeted uncomfortably, avoiding his glare. “It’s a big town, boss. Them ragers could be anywhere,” Scrub replied. “They mighta been a roving pack just happened to catch our boys off guard. Or they might have stomping grounds they protect.”

Simon glared at the man. “Then maybe we should find out. We’re owed a pound of flesh!” Spittle flew from his lips as he screamed.

Scrub nodded, knowing better than to speak.

Savage finally stood and pointed to two of the men. “You two are with me.”

Simon stepped in front of him, his eyes still filled with anger. “Where the hell are you off to?”

Savage never batted an eye. “We’re going back to where the boys got eaten. If the ragers are still out there, we’ll find them.”

Simon shook his head. “It’s near dark. And if they can get the jump on six of our boys—”

“They didn’t expect them,” Savage interrupted. “We will.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “You two gear up. We ride in ten.”

He turned to leave when Simon stepped in front of him. “I didn’t dismiss you!”

Savage looked down at the man and it almost appeared as though he were bored. “You sorta did. You said we needed to find out what happened. I’m volunteering.” He pointed at the two men standing by the entry to the tent, eyes wide as they watched the two. “And they were voluntold.” He gave Simon a cheesy grin.

Simon nodded slowly. “Okay, then.” He turned back to his remaining lieutenants. “That’s a man of action! You all should be more like Savage.”

“We’ll be careful not to lead any back,” Savage added, noticing how the possibility slowly sunk in with the others. The thought of ragers attacking while they slept suddenly filled their minds. He chuckled to himself as he marched toward his bike.

Simon stuck his head out of the tent. “Try to be back before sundown.”

“Yes, Mom.” Savage gave him a one-fingered salute as he walked away.

The flight officer checked Vivian’s equipment while the helicopter’s engine slowly started spinning up the blades. “Remember, you’ll have to communicate through this.” He tapped at the headphones and mic that she wore. “They can’t hear you, otherwise.”

She gave him a thumbs up and adjusted the ear cuffs. “They’re a little loose.”

He waved her off. “You’ll be fine, ma’am. It’s just to communicate with the pilots.” He strapped her gear to the deck and patted her leg. “You’re good to go.”

“Where are we refueling again?”

“Boise, ma’am. But you’ll only be there long enough to top off the tanks.” He pointed below the craft where she couldn’t see. “We have externals on this thing. Should be enough fuel to get you there and back, but since you’ll be detouring on the return trip, we just want to make sure you’re good on fuel.”

She nodded. “Will there be an in-flight movie?”

The flight officer paused and gave her a surprised look. “I’m not—”

“It was a joke, lieutenant. Relax.” She double-checked her straps, then shot him a smile. “I’m just busting your chops.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He stepped back and eyed her and her gear once more. “Safe travels, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” She heard the engines whine as they revved higher, then the door was pulled shut, cutting her off from the outside world. She felt the craft begin to rise and her stomach did a quick flip-flop. She clutched the straps holding her to the seat and closed her eyes. She offered up a quick prayer to whichever god might be listening, then forced her eyes open.

Although the craft bucked a bit and the noise was terrific inside the craft, she noticed the two pilots in the front didn’t appear concerned at all. She really disliked flying, but she particularly hated helicopters. She had heard if a fixed wing craft lost power, it could still possibly glide down for a landing. Helicopters dropped from the sky like rocks.

As those thoughts ran through her mind for the hundredth time, she wondered just how smart she must be to not only purposely get into the blasted machine, but to fight for the opportunity to do so. She groaned to herself and sat back, trying to force herself to relax.

“I feel like a hipster.” Roger turned while the girls nodded. “I mean, really? Flannel and chinos? Don’t you have any Levi’s back there?”

Candy fought the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I like the khakis. They bring out the tan of your skin.”

Vicky nodded. “And trimming your beard into a goatee is a nice touch. All you need now is a man bun.” She snickered.

Roger groaned and turned back to the showers. “I’m shaving my head.”

“Like hell.” Candy slipped off the table she sat upon and fell into step behind him. “Find a seat Officer Bigshot. I’ll cut your hair.”

He turned and gave her a cautious look. “Do you know how to cut hair?”

She smiled as she walked past him. “If I screw it up, you can shave it.” She turned and pointed at him with both hands. “It would be a crime to lop off all of those curly locks.”

Roger groaned and sat on the stool nearest the door. Candy emerged with a sheet and a small travel bag. “I got scissors, razors, and trimmers.” She stopped and gave him a lopsided grin. “I think I might can fix this mop.”

“Tell me you know what you’re doing.”

She set up at the table and snapped the sheet out in front of him. “Believe it or not, I went to Vo-tech for this before I decided I’d rather carry a badge and a gun.” She tied the sheet around his neck and rolled a towel under the edge. “I was pretty good back in my day.”

“Back in your day? Am I looking at an 80s haircut here?” He turned and gave her a mischievous grin. “You do realize that mullets are long dead, right?”

She punched him in the arm. “I’m not that old, smart ass.” She picked up the comb and scissors and gave him an evil smile. “But you know, everything does come back into style eventually. Maybe you’d look good with a mullet.”

He chuckled as she turned his head around. “I don’t think so.”

“Fine. Then we’ll do a Mohawk. I’m not picky.”

She spritzed his hair with water and went to work removing the lion’s share of the mane he had grown since being undercover.

She gripped a handful of hair and combed it out, admiring the length. “You could just wear it in a ponytail.”

He shook his head slightly. “Ponytails are for girls who play softball.” He smiled to himself as he added, “And lady cops.”

She pulled his head back hard and he laughed harder. “Sorry, not sorry,” she muttered.

The pair settled into their back and forth banter while Candy clipped him into something more presentable. As she was wrapping up, she stopped and snapped her fingers. “I forgot to carve in lightning bolts on the sides of your head.”

Roger nodded. “I guess I’ll just have to make due ’til the next time.”

She leaned in close to his ear. “Don’t go thinking I do this for everybody. There may not be a next time.”

“Copy that.”

He felt her brush the crumbs from his neck, then she pulled the towel and slid the sheet from around his neck. He stood from the stool and unbuttoned the flannel shirt. She watched the muscles of his back and chest ripple as he snapped the shirt a few times to remove any stray clippings. She actually had to remember to breathe as he slipped the shirt back on.

“Thank you.”

She nodded absently, watching as he buttoned the shirt back up and tuck it into the chinos. “What do I owe you?” He shot her another brilliant smile and she got a very faraway look in her eye.

“Nothing.” She snapped back to the present and blushed. She had to turn around and take her time replacing the trimmers in the travel bag. “You actually clean up kind of good.”

He gave her a crooked grin. “It must be your handiwork.” He ducked into the shower and peered in the mirror. “Wow. You did a really good job.”

“Yup. No mullet.” She zipped the bag and stood behind him. “This time.”

“Candy!” a voice shouted from outside the shower.

She tossed the travel bag to the small table and stepped back out. “What is it?”

“We got riders approaching from the east.” The man waved at her to follow him, then disappeared back to the ladders leading to the roof.

“Great.” She muttered as she trotted after him.

Roger fell into speed. “I’m coming. I might can identify if they’re Simon’s men.”

They rallied at the parapet of the roof and a guard handed her the binoculars. She focused on the area where he pointed and she saw three motorcycles riding slowly near where they had staged Roger’s death.

“Do you know them?” She handed him the glasses and he stared.

“Oh, yeah. The big guy is Savage.” He handed her the glasses back. “And I don’t know his whole story, but nobody gives him shit. In a world of felons, drug dealers, and murderers, he’s considered the bad guy.”

“Great.” She lowered the spy glasses and stepped from the edge. “Any idea what they’re doing out here again?”

Roger shook his head. “It looked like they were headed to the ambush area.” He sighed deeply and gave her a shrug. “It could be that they’re looking for something else. Something that would explain how the Zulus got the jump on their guys?”

“Tell me they wouldn’t have a reason to look for you.” Her eyes told him all he needed to know. She was worried and rightly so.

He shook his head. “Nothing that I can think of.” He paced slowly behind her, his mind racing. “We covered all of the bases. I left my colors, left my Chief…there should be no reason to think there were any survivors.”

She wrapped her arms around herself at a sudden chill. “I want eyes on them while they’re out there and I want to know if they leave or if others show up. Got it?”

Roger snapped his fingers. “You still got the radio I left when I first came here?”

Candy gave him a confused look. “What radio?”

“I left one here earlier.” He turned and headed for the roof access. “All of their radios are on the same frequency. Simon’s orders. If something was going on within range, he wanted to know about it.”

He gripped the ladder and slid down to the floor below. Candy followed and had to trot to catch up with him. “Are you suggesting that we call him?”

“Hell, no.” Roger darted into the warehouse and stopped at the workbench where he’d left it. He rummaged through the material scattered across the top and lifted the radio triumphantly. “We just monitor their traffic. We’ll know what’s going on at the same time they do.”

“And if they decide to sniff around more?”

He gave her another brilliant smile. “Then we pull everybody inside, seal up the doors, and pretend the place is empty.” He turned a slow circle, indicating everything inside. “From the outside, they’d have no reason to stop here or even sniff around.”

Candy gave him fearful eyes. “There’s a grocery store nearby.” She lowered her voice and pulled him away from the others working around them. “What if he found usable stuff, like in the grocery store? Would he be more likely to raid it and leave, or do you think he’d try to put down roots?”

Roger tried to put himself in Simon’s place. The problem was, the man was too unpredictable. “I can’t say. He’s all twisted in the head. “He’ll leave when he should stay. Fight when he should run.” He chewed at the inside of his cheek as his mind tried to anticipate the thinkings of a madman. “I have no idea.”

She sighed heavily and leaned against the workbench. “From the direction they were riding, we could point them to the grocery. At least it’s further away from us and in a different direction.”

“Why would you turn over your supplies to him? Don’t get me wrong, there are innocent women and children that he drags with them everywhere, so the food and supplies would be much appreciated, but…isn’t that cutting your own throats?”

She shook her head. “We emptied the place of most of the good stuff.” She pointed to the door leading to the supplies. “In fact, we just raided it when we heard about your…I mean, his marauders from Hatcher.”

Roger walked over to the door and opened it. The rows of shelves and stacks of dry goods caused a low whistle to escape his lips. “You’ve probably got two years’ worth here.”

“We figure 14-16 months unless we ration.” She stepped next to him and gave him hopeful eyes. “What do you think?”

He gave a slow shoulder shrug. “It could be worth trying.” He took another glance at the supplies, then turned to her. “How would you tell him where it was?”

She chewed on her thumbnail while she thought. “Definitely not the radio. That would lead to more trouble than I’m willing to risk.” She turned to him and snapped her fingers. “Signal fire.”

He shook his head. “I’ve never seen a rager cause a fire. He’d know it was people. And where there’s people, there’s opportunity.”

“Then I have no idea.”

Roger blew his breath out hard and leaned against the wall. “I can think of one way…”

She narrowed her eyes. “What are you thinking?”

“You aren’t gonna like it.”

Chapter 9

Hatcher strained his ears to listen in the darkness. He could almost swear he heard movement in the woods. A snap of a twig, the rustling of leaves, the occasional grunt…all noises that might seem perfectly normal if the woods weren’t full of Zulus.

“Relax, ranger. You’re wound so tight a hoot owl might give you a coronary.”

Hatcher tried to chuckle, but he knew Hollis was right. He tried to stretch his neck, to work the nervous tension from his muscles, but they wouldn’t give. “Too much coffee, I suppose.”

“You shouldn’t eat the freeze-dried coffee from the MRE’s. That shit will rot your innards.” Hollis checked his weapon for the twentieth time.

“You said it would be a long night.” Hatcher reached into his shirt pocket and pulled the little packet of freeze-dried awesomeness out. “Care to join me?”

Hollis shook his head. “I’ve got my own.” He patted his own breast pocket. “I’m saving it for when my eyelids try to slam shut.”

Buck slid in next to Hatcher. “I checked every window. If they’re out there, they’re staying just deep enough in the shadows that I can’t spot them.”

“They’re out there.” Hollis whispered. “Time for check-ins.” He leaned away and radioed his men standing guard.

Hatcher tried again to stretch his neck and work the tension from his shoulders, but his body refused to cooperate. He looked to Buck who almost seemed bored. “You doing okay?”

Buck nodded. “Just another night in paradise.” He shot the older man a grin. “I take solace in the fact they have a dozen or so heavily muscled soldiers to eat through before they get to me. Hopefully, they’ll be full and lose interest.”

A muffled scream was heard outside and Hatcher cringed. He tried to argue with Hollis about leaving the captured Zulu alive, but Hollis was resolute. Allow the creature to live, stake it to the edge of the sight lines and use it as bait. If anything comes into range of the thermals, they light it up.

His men had treated the creature much like a rabid dog. A neck noose run through a length of steel pipe was used to keep it at arm’s length. They had secured its hands behind the back with rope and hobbled it at the ankles, giving just enough mobility they were able to move the creature without carrying it.

Even Buck thought it should have been put out of its misery and then used as a warning to the others. Hatcher wondered if they had hoped having a living, breathing test subject was the military’s plan until Hollis informed him they had dozens on the research vessel.

He turned to Buck and rolled his eyes. “I still can’t fathom why they’d leave that thing alive.”

Buck sighed and leaned against the short wall by the window. “I’ve no idea. If he had any real dealings with these things, he’d know that you can’t reason with a wild animal. And really, that’s all these people are anymore. Wild friggin’ animals.”

Another muffled scream interrupted their discussion, but it was the unmuffled scream from the woods that caused the hair on the back of their necks to stand on end.

Hollis rolled back next to Hatcher and keyed his mic. “Be ready, people.”

Buck sat up and peered over the window sill. His eyes were adjusted to the darkness inside and the moon in the night sky almost had the grounds lit up like day. “I’m still not seeing them.”

A blur shot past the window and toward the roof. Buck jumped back and stared at Hatcher’s form. “What was that?”

Hollis pressed a finger against the earbud and said, “Say again your last.” A moment later he turned to Hatcher. “They’re throwing rocks and spears.”

The staccato of gunfire could be heard coming from outside as sentries barked, “Contact!” through their radios.

“Get ready, kid. I think it’s about to hit the fan.” Hatcher popped up and leaned the barrel of his rifle on the sill, scanning the woods.

Buck tried to think about the attacks he had witnessed before. A sudden realization struck him. “Captain! Tell your men to check the back side of the house!” He rolled back and was on his feet. Before Hollis could question him, a scream was heard outside, but it wasn’t the scream of the infected. It was the scream of a man being ripped to shreds.

Buck was at the back window and pointing. “They’re attacking!”

Savage inspected the scene with the eye of a suspicious man. He picked at everything.

“What are you looking for?” Scrub asked.

“Anything that could tell me what happened here.” He kicked at a piece of side mirror that had broken off one of the bikes.

“Dude, there’s no way to know what came from our boys being killed in the attack and what was already here,” Salty added. He leaned against a dead car, a smoldering cigarette dangling from his fingers.

Savage stood and peered around the wrecked cars. “They didn’t put these cars here. They just found a way to take advantage of the position.”

“Duh.” Salty took another drag from his cigarette and flicked the butt over the top of a blue hatchback. He watched the arc of the orange tip and his eyes settled on a lone figure standing on top of a dead car, a stick or pipe in its hands. “We got company.”

Savage spun and stared at where the man was looking. He stepped up onto the side of one of the dead motorcycles and stared at the lone figure. It slowly raised the pipe in its hands and shook it.

Savage raised his arm and flipped the infected the finger. “Fuck you, man! Bring that broomstick over here and I’ll shove it up your ass!”

“Uh, Savage.” Scrub was pointing behind them to a group of infected slowly filling in and closing off their avenue of escape.

“Oh, so now these goofy sons of bitches want to come out and play, eh?” Savage walked to his bike and pulled the MP5 from the scabbard. He clipped it to the lanyard on his belt then pulled his pump 12 gauge shotgun. Racking a round into the chamber, he turned to the other two bikers. “You might want to arm up, fuckers. These assholes aren’t going to wait.”

Scrub and Salty both scrambled to their bikes and fumbled with their own weapons. Scrub leveled the shotgun on the figure who still stood on the dead car. He knew that the distance might be a bit too far for shot to be effective, but he’d loaded the gun with slugs. There would still be enough momentum to put a golf ball-sized hole through the skinny rager.

As soon as the creature opened its mouth to scream, Savage pulled the trigger. He didn’t wait to see if the round connected. He pumped the shotgun and turned to the crowd advancing on them. He emptied the shotgun into those few unfortunate beings in the front of the mass, then switched to his MP5.

He held the extra 9mm magazines in his left hand while he sprayed into the crowd with his right. “Mow these cocksuckers down!”

Scrub and Salty both began firing into the crowd and Savage turned his back to reload. He saw three of the creatures crawling across the top of the truck that had the road blocked. He actually smiled as he leveled the MP5 on the ragers and began cutting them down. “You ain’t sneaking up on shit!”

Savage began turning a slow circle, aiming his weapon, and taking isolated single fire shots to conserve ammunition. He had no idea how large the clan of ragers were, but he wanted to do his best to send them all straight to hell.

Scrub stared at his weapon, still smoking from the last magazine he had emptied. “I’m out!”

“Then swing the goddam thing like a club!” Savage screamed as he leveled his weapon on those still advancing.

Scrub stared at the weapon, then at the crowd. In a panic, he threw the weapon down and mounted his bike. The big Harley V-Twin roared to life and he gunned out of the kill zone and into the oncoming crowd.

“You cowardly son of a bitch!” Savage turned and fired toward Scrub’s taillights. He watched two more of the infected creatures collapse and the engine of Scrub’s bike revved high before it died.

“T-they got him! They got Scrub!” Salty stammered.

“Fuck him!” Savage reloaded the MP5 and kept firing. “They can have that yella bastard!”

Salty suddenly stiffened. “I’m out, too!” He hefted the M4 at those still advancing. He stepped back and turned to cover Savage’s back, a survival knife in his hand.

“Move it!” Savage pushed the man toward the edge of the cars that made the outer perimeter of the kill zone. “We can’t let them pin us down.”

He handed the MP5 to Salty. “Make each shot count.” He began reloading the shotgun while the other man picked at the advancing forms.

Just as the crowd began to pick up momentum, Savage grabbed Salty by the back of the jacket and pulled him away. “In the truck!” He shoved the man against the side of a garbage truck and Salty scrambled up the side and into the cab.

Savage slammed the door and locked it shut just as bodies began to hit the machine; a few actually caused a slight rocking motion as they struck.

Savage leaned his head back while his fingers worked deftly in his pockets. “How much ammo is left?”

Salty pulled the magazine and counted. “Eight.”

He held his hand open. “I got four rounds left for the 12 gauge.” He closed his eyes and tried to imagine how things could get any worse when the screaming outside built to a crescendo.

Amidst the screaming, he heard gunfire. As the gunfire increased, the screaming stopped, and bodies stopped slamming into the dump truck.

Savage tried to peer through the side mirrors to see what could possibly be happening. Salty grabbed his arm and pointed to his own side mirror. “There’s somebody out there!”

Savage actually felt relief flood through his body as the creatures tore away from them and began running toward whomever was shooting at them. “Whoever that fucker is, we owe him.”

He glanced around the cab looking for keys. Although he doubted the machine would start and run, if there was any chance they could use it to mow down some of the ragers, he was going to give it his best.

He finally reached under the dash and felt around the ignition. He jerked the wires from the connection and held them. “I need light.”

Salty pulled his Zippo and brought a flame to life. “Do you know how to hotwire one of these things?”

Savage shook his head. “No fuckin’ clue. But I’m gonna try.”

He stripped the wire back and tried touching them to each other, praying that one would eventually turn the engine over. He found one that brought the interior lights to life, but that was the most he could get from it.

“Maybe it’s got an interlock? Hold the clutch in.” Salty suggested.

Savage tried pressing the clutch to the floor and touching the wires again. “Nothing, man.” He threw both hands to the top of the steering wheel and rested his head on the edge.

“What are we gonna do?”

Savage looked through the side mirrors again. “I can’t see them.” He turned to Salty and shook his head. “We either wait ’til morning and hope the herd hasn’t come back, or we hop out now, fight off any stragglers and take our bikes.”

“I say we go now.” Salty stared out into the deepening darkness. “We may not be able to see too good, but I don’t want to give them a chance to muster up more of their kind.”

Savage nodded. “Agreed.” He reached for the door handle. “On three. One….two…”

The CDO knocked and entered Colonel Vickers’ office. “We just got word from the chopper, sir. They’ve refueled and are en route.”

Vickers nodded. “Very well. ETA?”

“Should only be a few hours out now, sir. It will still be dark when they arrive, but they’re hoping Captain Hollis is monitoring the radio.”

“Very well.” Vickers leaned back in his chair and rocked gently. “If they can’t make contact with Hollis, see how close they can get LaRue to the source. Maybe she can get her samples before they head back to Ft. Collins.”

“Copy that, sir. I’ll relay your instructions to the chopper.” The man paused. “Do you think Hollis and his team survived?”

Vickers smiled. “If Hatcher’s still with them, then I imagine they are. The man is like a cockroach. He just doesn’t die.” Vickers reached for his coffee and took a long pull from the cold cup. “Unless the chopper went down with all hands, then my money is on them still breathing.”

“And you think they’re still in the area? Would they have tried to hump it out of the hot zone?”

“No idea, lieutenant. We’ll just have to hope that Captain Hollis has the foresight to monitor his radio.”

“Understood, sir.” The CDO snapped a salute, then turned and left the office.

Vickers sighed and stood from his chair. He checked his watch, then poured a glass of whiskey. “They’d better still be breathing.”

Roger leaned to the left of the ATV’s handlebars, firing into the back of the crowd. Hank was standing on the rear rack and firing to the right.

Roger flipped on the headlight and felt an eerie sense of déjà vu as the crowd closing on the bikers suddenly turned and focused their attention on the interlopers. “Keep shooting! I’m gonna turn us around!”

Roger pulled the ATV to the far side of the street and pointed the machine in the opposite direction. Hank was now seated on the rear rack and firing behind them. “Go! Go! Go!” Hank yelled as he continued shooting into the crowd.

Those who had fallen at the feet of the others were soon trampled as the wave reversed direction and began pursuing the pair.

Roger gunned the engine and made a straight shot away from the trap that had cost his cohorts their lives earlier. He had no way of knowing if Savage and the other two had survived long enough to take advantage of their actions, but he prayed that at least one could get word to Simon. For their plan to work, he had to know there was not only a handful of survivors in town, but a potential ally.

Roger knew that Simon couldn’t be swayed from within his own ranks. But perhaps if he could discover there were other survivors and they were willing to cooperate…to share with others, then perhaps humanity still had a chance at surviving this plague.

Roger slowed the ATV when Hank slapped at his shoulder. “Let them catch up!”

Roger glanced over his shoulder and could just make out the crowd in the twilight, racing down the streets and across sidewalks, hoping to catch the ATV. He pulled over and waited a moment, praying he could see some kind of sign the bikers had survived.

“Okay, man, go.” Hank fired a few wild rounds into the front of the crowd as Roger accelerated again. They made it to the main intersection and Roger slowed, turning the ATV only slightly so that the advancing throng could see them. When he was certain the lead runners were close enough, he kicked the ATV into gear again and opened the throttle. It was a straight shot to the grocery store and he didn’t want the Zulus to catch them before they reached the building.

He slowed the ATV as the parking lot came into view and swung in a wide arc. Hank lit the rag on the Molotov cocktail and launched it at the closest abandoned car. The bottle shattered on impact with the front wheel and the flames wrapped up and around the hood of the car.

Roger grinned, knowing full well that once that front tire caught fire, the rest of the car was certainly a goner. He revved the engine and shot the ATV down the block, away from the approaching throng.

Once they turned at the next block, he slowed the vehicle, praying that the exhaust was quiet enough they could sneak past any stragglers or scouts for other Zulu clans. Beyond the infected, he prayed that Savage and his crew wouldn’t spot them.

He pulled the ATV into the staging area and the doors opened for him. Pulling into the warehouse, he quickly shut down the ATV and searched for Candy.

She approached the pair, her face unreadable. “Good news, bad news.”

“Hit me.”

“Roof sentry spotted two single headlights leaving the area.”

Hank nodded. “So, we know at least two of them survived.”

She sighed. “They didn’t follow your trail. When they hit the intersection, they turned back east.” She shook her head at Roger. “Unless your friend Simon decides to send out a larger pack, they won’t see the bonfire you left.”

Roger blew his breath out hard and sat on the ATV. “Well, that could still be good.” He turned solemn eyes to her. “They must suspect there are survivors. We just won’t have the opportunity to broker a peace with them.”

She raised a brow. “I’m still not convinced his kind can be bargained with.”

Hank stepped closer and patted her shoulder. “You gotta have faith, Candy. Otherwise, is what’s left of humanity even worth fighting for?”

She looked to him and shook her head. “Not if what’s left is only people like Simon.”

Chapter 10

The rear window shattered as a body flew through the glass. Hollis brought his rifle to bear on the target and began firing before the creature had stopped rolling. Hatcher turned back to the front of the house and spotted something moving quickly across the yard. He brought his own rifle up, but the target was gone before he could get a bead on it.

“They’re swarming!” Hatcher followed another target and loosed three rounds. He continued to track it until it was beyond his view. Sounds of rifle fire from the roof became almost a background noise as the sentries opened on targets that made themselves visible.

Hollis threw himself against the wall of the house and checked both angles of attack outside the broken window. “I’ve got nothing!”

Weapons fire from the roof above his head had Hollis double-checking. He could see shadows in the woods, but nothing had broken into the clear again.

“Hey, check this.” Buck stood over the body in the living room.” He pointed to a wooden stake shoved into the creature’s chest. “They threw a dead body through the window.”

Hollis stepped away from the window long enough to glance at what Buck was showing. “What’s the point, kid?” He stepped over the body and went to the front window with Hatcher.

“Don’t you think it odd they’d kick up their activity outside and distract us just to throw a body in here?” He reached for the wooden stake and paused, his hand hovering just above the grip. “I need light.”

Hollis verified the front clear and worked back across the room. He flipped on his LED torch and flashed it onto the body. Immediately he saw what Buck had spotted.

It wasn’t an infected. It was one of his own men, his uniform ripped away and chunks of flesh missing from his shoulders and thighs. “Son of a…”

Buck stood and turned worried eyes to the captain. “I think this is their version of staking a dead body for the other clans.”

Hollis shook with rage. He keyed his coms. “Put down the bait. Two to the chest, one to the head.”

Hatcher bit his tongue to prevent an I-toldja-so from escaping. “What good will that do now?”

Hollis spun on him, his face painted with anger. “I’ll feel better.” He growled as he stomped out the door.

Hatcher sighed and settled into a wooden chair. “We’re losing ground here, aren’t we?”

Buck sat on the edge of the table and crossed his arms over his chest. “There’s no way to know for sure what they’re going to do next.” He pointed to the body. “That could be their way of saying Get off my property or it could be some kind of warning of what’s to come.”

Hatcher turned tired eyes to the young man. “You think they’d be happy with us just leaving?”

“Who knows? I’ve seen them wage full-out war on each other and I’ve seen them face off only for the whole thing to die out once one side walked away.” He took a drink from the canteen that Hollis had given him and stared out through the front window. “Watching them, I was reminded of some documentaries I saw about great apes.”

“Animalistic then?”

Buck shrugged. “Who could possibly know what goes on inside their heads?” He craned his neck to peer outside, then stood from the table. “What the hell is he doing?”

Hatcher stood and the pair went to the window. Hollis was dragging the dead Zed to the front of the house. One of his men had strung a rope from the tree in the yard and Hollis tied it around the body just under the arms. He motioned to the soldier and the body was hoisted up into the air.

“He’s hanging the dead. Just like he said he would do.” Hatcher sighed and leaned against the counter. “I’m afraid, though, it’s too little too late.”

Buck turned and stared at the soldier’s body in the floor. “I think they beat him to it.”

“I couldn’t tell who it was, but whoever it was saved our bacon.” Savage took a long pull from the white lightning Simon had put aside. “I’ve never seen so many ragers in one place at one time before. Not since this whole thing started.”

Simon paced, tugging at his beard. “Even then, they didn’t work together. There was just a shit ton of them.” He turned and cast an inquiring look to the large man. “And you’re sure they were working together? The ragers?”

Savage nodded. “No doubt, boss. You can ask Salty if you don’t believe me.” He took another long pull then handed the quart Mason jar back to Simon. “It’s like somebody had taught them to work together.”

Simon shook his head. “Even wild dogs will run in packs. Eventually, they learn to hunt together.” He took a pull from the corn whiskey and screwed the lid on tight. “I want to know who it was that saved your ass.”

“Me, too. I want to shake his fuckin’ hand.”

Simon turned a surprised stare at him. “I want what’s his.” He stepped closer to Savage and cocked his head to the side, staring at the man. “Don’t forget, it’s a whole new world. It’s eat or be eaten. And I plan to not be eaten.”

“I’d still shake his hand.” He stood taller and looked down at Simon. “After that, you can do whatever the hell you want.”

Simon raised a brow at him. “Don’t forget the mission.”

Savage stared at him open-mouthed. “What mission? The only mission I’ve known about is take what we want, screw the rest.” He stepped toward Simon. “If there’s a mission, I want to know what the hell it is.”

Simon nodded. “That IS the mission.” He pointed out the flap of his tent. “The world is ours now, my friend. We take what we want and leave the rest to their own devices. If we want their food, we take it. If we want their women, we take them. If we want their weapons, we take them.”

Savage watched him as he began to work himself up into another tirade. Rather than listen to it, he turned and stepped out of the tent.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Simon barked.

Savage stopped and sighed heavily. “I’m fuckin’ tired. I’m going to try to get a few hours sleep before we start hunting down the survivors in this town and take what you want.” He walked away and disappeared into the night before Simon could bark at him anymore.

The more Simon was left to his own devices, the more Savage was reminded of a little purse dog. So little they could be squished by a well-placed fart, but they thought they were Great Danes. They’d bark at the larger dogs that they knew could chew them up and spit them out, but after the first big dog ignores them, they become emboldened and think that all of the big dogs will respect them.

Eventually, those little dogs get their asses chewed up or they end up dead. Savage still wasn’t sure if he’d kill Simon or just beat him to a bloody pulp, but he was really starting to tire of his rants and tirades. The man acted like a spoiled child.

Spoiled children suffer from not being punished enough. Savage was good at punishing.

He pulled open the door of the worn-out RV he called home. He heard soft snoring from the back and knew that Stella was already asleep. She had been given to Savage shortly after everything went to hell in a handbasket.

She wasn’t much to look at, but she had a kind heart. She was soft spoken and mousy, but she did what was asked of her. She did her best to keep his trailer picked up. She prepared meals when there was food available, and she actually knew how to make homemade wine from just about any fruit they could find.

Savage was a beast to any man that dared stand against him, but when it came to Stella, he never forced his hand. They had been together these past months and he still had yet to know her as a husband would know a wife.

As far as the club was concerned, the two were married. The gift from Simon was designed to provide the woman protection and the man certain satisfactions that would keep him happy and devoted to him. Simon knew that a man who felt he was beholden to him would be less likely to cause trouble. Perhaps that was why Savage was the first to be gifted a woman.

He shut the door carefully behind him, lest he wake her. He peeled the leather jacket off and sat down on the couch. He tugged his boots off, then peeled the leather riding pants off. The night air suddenly felt much cooler against his skin and he sighed with relief.

He went to the kitchen sink and rinsed the grit from his face and beard. A rag of a towel wiped the rest of the grime off. He turned slowly toward the bedroom of the RV and walked as softly as he could back there. He sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, then rolled into it, doing his best not to wake her.

She stirred softly and rolled into him, wrapping her arms around his middle and snuggling close to him. He lay in the dark and breathed as softly as he could to keep from waking her.

He knew she cared for him. She showed him daily in the little things. She even offered herself to him freely, but he couldn’t bring himself to enjoy the pleasures she offered. To him, it was wrong. She had been enslaved by Simon. Sure, she was given the choice…either join the club or die. If not directly by Simon’s hand, then be left to fend for herself in a world gone mad.

She had been given to him as an offering and Savage couldn’t bring himself to fully accept her because of the circumstances. If she loved him, that would be different. But she quietly accepted her fate and that just didn’t sit well. Just one more reason he wanted to wrap his hands around Simon’s skull and squeeze it like a grape.

He reached out with his arm and wrapped it protectively around her. He had often wondered what her fate would have been if she had been given to any of the others in the club, and he had to push the thoughts from his mind. The things that some of those sick bastards would do was enough to enrage him.

As he lay there quietly in the darkness with only the soft sounds of her sleeping to lull him, he knew that he cared for her. He glanced down at her tiny form and sighed. Maybe he even loved her.

He stroked her back softly as she slept. He knew that if nothing else, he had to keep her safe.

Vivian sat up when the pilot announced they were approaching the target sector. She loosened her straps and leaned forward. “Has anybody from the team made radio contact?”

“Not yet, ma’am. We’re trying alternate frequencies, but they should be monitoring this channel.”

“Please, keep trying. That sample is crucial to my work.” She was leaning back in her chair when the pilot shocked her.

“Orders from command, ma’am. If the retrieval team hasn’t obtained a sample, we’re to fly you as close to the sight as possible and assist you in obtaining the sample.”

She shook her head vigorously. “No, wait…you don’t understand. I don’t have any of the equipment necessary to—”

“That’s our orders, ma’am.” The pilot banked the craft and Vivian reached out to steady herself.

“I have no way to take the sample. I have nothing to contain it in.” Her eyes were wide as she tried to think of anything she could use to protect herself from exposure, much less anything to seal the sample in.

“Let’s just hope the retrieval team got what you needed.”

She sat back in the seat and swallowed hard. If they were left to her makeshift attempts, she might well end up exposing everybody on the research vessel. She pushed the thought from her mind. Surely the pilots could come up with something.

Roger stood on the roof, his eyes scanning to the east. He hoped he would see some sign of Simon’s group. A fire, lights, noise…something that told him the group was in a place from which they could monitor their activity.

He sighed as he lowered the spy glasses. “Come on, you bastard. Make your position known.”

“Talk to yourself often?” Candy asked, sliding in next to him.

“Only when I want to talk to an idiot.” He handed her the binoculars. “I’m sorry. The more I think about my plan, the more I think I could have royally screwed the pooch.”

Candy nodded slowly. “It was a good idea. It was…hopeful.” She chose her words carefully. “I didn’t think he’d buy a group of a half-dozen as a real settlement, but it was a good thought.”

He shook his head. “The more I think about it, the more I fear he would have tried to either kill them or make them part of his group.” He sat down and leaned against the parapet. “People like Simon can’t be reasoned with.”

“No, but you think the big guy Savage could be reached, right?”

He shrugged. “I barely spoke to the man and we rode in the same club for over a year.” He sighed and lowered his head to his hands. “I have no idea how Savage would have reacted.”

“Look, setting up a fake compound to measure his reaction to a cooperative was a good idea. I just don’t know if you would have gotten the results you’d hoped for.” She took his hand in her own and squeezed it. “I know you worry about the innocent folks that travel with him, but people like that…people who have a real evil streak in them, they can’t be reasoned with. It’s probably a good thing those riders didn’t follow you.”

He nodded slowly. “I know you’re right.” He leaned his head back and noted the sky lightening in the east as the sun prepared to rise. “I think a part of me hoped that once he found the supplies you left in the grocery store, they would have loaded up and left the area. Maybe gone on to Albuquerque.”

“Do you think he’s still searching for Daniel?”

Roger shrugged. “I’ve given up trying to second guess Simon or his motives.” Roger groaned as he climbed to his feet. He held a hand out to Candy and she pulled herself up.

“Let’s get some rest.”

Roger wrapped an arm over her shoulder without thinking about it. “I think I’m going to get some coffee. Maybe come back up here and watch for them.”

Candy instinctively slipped in closer, wrapping her arm around his middle as they made toward the roof access. “I think you should rest. Pushing yourself too hard will open you up to mistakes. We can’t afford for that to happen.”

He paused at the roof access and stared down at her. He took a deep breath and nodded. “You’re probably right.”

She reached up and pulled his face closer to hers. She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek before she turned and took the ladder below.

Roger stood at the top of the ladder and watched her climb down, part of him surprised she had kissed him. An even bigger part of him was surprised at how comfortable he had suddenly become with her. It didn’t bother him at all that it happened.

He grabbed the ladder and slid down to the floor below.

Chapter 11

“Sir, we have incoming!”

Hollis was on his feet and moving toward the door. “Which direction?”

“The sky, sir. Incoming aircraft. Sounds like a chopper!”

Hollis spun, eyes staring into the cloudy early morning sky. “Somebody get on the damned radio! Make contact with that craft!” He darted to the lead Humvee and rifled through the back. He emerged with a flare gun and fired it into the sky.

The soldiers all turned their eyes to the sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of the craft. They strained their ears, hoping to hear the engines change pitch as the chopper banked toward the signal in the sky.

Hollis shook his head slowly as his eyes scanned the gray skies above. “They’re above the clouds. They can’t see the flare.” He spun and yelled at the men in the yard. “Get them on the radio now!”

Hatcher stepped beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It sounds like it’s going away from us. Is there any chance they’re going to one of the original landing zones?”

“If I could get them on the radio, I’d know.” He glanced back into the house. “Get the kid ready to travel. We’re heading back.”

Hatcher turned to go back into the house and met Buck walking out, carrying a box of the food they had scavenged. “We might as well take it. If we miss that ride out then we’ll be glad we got it.”

Hatcher gave him a lopsided grin. “Good thinking.” He stepped past the young man and picked up the blue tub full of food. “Load up, little buddy. We got a plane to catch.”

Hatcher couldn’t remember seeing Buck smile since they’d encountered each other, but he wore an ear to ear grin as he carried the box to the lead Humvee. “Technically, I think it’s a helicopter.”

Hollis rounded the front of the vehicle and waved at the pair. “We can’t raise them on the radio.” His face was a mix of emotions as he walked them to the back. “We’re heading back to the LZs and see if we can get their attention.”

Hatcher slid the boxes deeper into the rear of the truck and pulled the slant-back top shut. “They should be monitoring the same bands, shouldn’t they?”

Hollis gave him a look that confirmed his suspicion. “Which is why we’re going back.” He pulled Hatcher aside and lowered his voice. “If this craft isn’t friendly, we’re hitting the road. I know I told you we’d wait, but considering the attacks last night, I don’t think we can risk it.”

Hatcher glanced to Buck and nodded. “Agreed.”

“Load up! We’re moving out!” Hollis pulled the door open and hopped into the cab. He pulled the strap on his helmet snug and turned to the driver. “Don’t waste any time. We need to be at that LZ now!”

“Roger that, sir.”

Humvees aren’t built for speed, but they are built for rough terrain. The drivers pushed the vehicles for all they were worth while trying to stay on the goat paths that passed for roads.

Hollis pointed to the turn they needed and was about to state the obvious when his coms chirped. “Sir, we have the pilot. They’re headed to the primary LZ.”

“Thank god,” Hollis muttered. He keyed his coms. “Inform the pilot of what happened to the last chopper. Have him circle the LZ, and if he has the capability, he needs to run a thermal on the surrounding area before attempting to land.”

“He reports that the craft has a sonic generator, sir.”

Hollis raised a brow upon hearing that. “Those things tend to attract the Zeds. You might remind him of that since we still have to meet them and there’s no telling how many may be between us.”

“Copy that, sir.”

Hollis turned to Hatcher and Buck. “Looks like that craft is our ride, gentlemen. We’ve made contact with the pilots and we’ll be meeting them shortly.”

“You said something about attracting the zombies.” Buck glared suspiciously.

Hollis nodded. “They have a sonic generator onboard.” He tried to think of a simple way to explain the device. “It emits sound waves at a specific frequency that…tames the wild in the Zeds.”

Hatcher nodded. “I’ve seen one in action. It works. Makes them docile as a kitten.”

Buck shook his head. “Even cats can scratch.” He pulled his knife and held it tightly. “Forgive me if I don’t put all of my trust in some kind of miracle box.”

Hatcher patted his arm. “It’s alright, bud. If you feel safer holding that, you go right ahead.”

“Just keep it in a safe position.” Hollis barked as the Humvee bounced over a rut in the road. “I don’t want to try to explain to the medic how you stabbed me in the back because you insisted on holding that thing.”

Buck turned the blade so that it pointed back and away from Hollis, but refused to lighten his grip. “Don’t worry, captain. It isn’t for you.”

Savage watched the sunlight creep through the dirty windows of his RV and felt Stella stir beside him. She rolled over slightly and curled tighter to his body. He adjusted his arm and tucked her in closer.

The thoughts that raced through his mind refused to allow him to sleep. He kept seeing the ragers spin, their attention behind them as gunfire tore through the rear of their ranks.

Who could it have been that saved him? Some local do-gooder? A guardian angel? How did they even know that he was under attack? Were they watching? Him or the ragers?

He pulled his arm out from under Stella and slid from the mattress. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared out of the window. Nobody was up and around yet other than the few sentries that were assigned this shift.

He walked into the living room of the RV and pulled his riding clothes back on. He had some investigating to do and he wasn’t going to ask Simon for permission. Better to pretend you were sorry than to be told no.

He shut the door as quietly as he could and made his way across the campground. He could still smell the fires from the night before and there was a thin layer of smoke that seemed to hang on the still air.

He mounted his Harley and hit the ignition. The big V-twin engine roared to life and he kicked it into gear. Just as he was about to pull away, one of the sentries stepped into his path, a shotgun propped across his shoulder.

“Where you headed Savage?”

He eyed the man and for a moment thought about lying. Instead, he simply eased out on the clutch and let the bike lope forward. The man stepped back and tossed a hand out to brace against the handlebars.

“Hey, man, I’m not busting your chops. But you know Simon will ask. I gotta tell him something.” The look of despair in his eyes caused Savage to sigh.

“I’m going back to the ambush sight. I have a feeling I’m missing something.” He revved the engine and glared at the man.

The sentry nodded and stepped aside. “Be careful out there, man. Those things are vicious.”

Savage bit back the desire to shoot him a smart-assed remark. Instead, he goosed the bike and hopped the curb onto the pavement.

The feel of the wind in his hair was better than a hot cup of coffee. His head instantly cleared, and he felt vibrant again. He twisted the throttle and shot the motorcycle through the abandoned traffic, leaning into the curves and letting the wind pull him back and upright on the straightaways.

He slowed the bike as he approached the intersection just before the trap. He kicked the transmission down a few gears and let the engine idle him closer. His eyes shifted side to side as he scanned for ragers. He could almost feel them out there, watching.

Waiting.

He slowed the bike and put his feet down as it rolled to a stop. He allowed plenty of room to turn around in the event of a fast getaway. He eyed the sides of the road and even spotted an emergency exit, should his retreat be blocked. He didn’t mind riding on the sidewalk. It would be just like old times.

He killed the engine and sat in the stillness of the early morning light. He allowed his ears a moment to adjust to the silence before he dropped the kickstand and climbed off the bike.

He walked carefully to the where he and Salty had prepared to make their last stand. There were bloodstains and bones scattered about. He couldn’t be sure if they were rager bones, picked clean by the cannibals, or if they were the remains of uninfected humans.

He remembered the asshole with the pipe who stood on the car and screamed at him. Out of curiosity, he weaved through the abandoned vehicles and approached where he last saw the creature. A large bloodstain in the grass next to a piece of old gas pipe made him believe that the shotgun slug had found its mark. He kicked at the pipe with his boot and was surprised at the weight. The way the creature shook it at him, he would have assumed it lighter.

He bent and picked it up. “They must be a lot stronger than they look.” He carried the pipe with him back to the ambush area and used it like a walking stick. In the back of his mind, he could see it being an effective weapon against a small handful of the ragers.

Savage picked at the sight and was surprised at the lack of bodies. Where the stranger had attacked and drew them away was littered with bits of flesh and bloodstains.

“Are they eating their own?” He kicked at what looked like part of an ear, drying in the morning sun. He stood and looked around. There weren’t any blood trails indicating they were removed. Could they have been eaten where they fell? Perhaps torn apart and the pieces taken back to whatever level of hell they called home?

Savage walked back to his bike more frustrated than when he arrived. He had more questions and fewer answers. He didn’t like that.

He dropped the pipe next to his Harley and straddled the bike. He hit the ignition and revved the engine a few times, practically daring the ragers to make themselves known.

Savage scanned the area with his eyes, praying that something would show. He wanted a pound of flesh and he was willing to risk himself to get it. He revved the engine again, the large V-twin barking and echoing off the surrounding buildings.

When it became apparent that nothing was prepared to step out and announce its presence, he slowly turned the bike around and prepared to return to the camp. He could almost smell the gruel that Stella would insist on making him for breakfast.

He turned the bike and was about to gun the engine when something caught his eye. He held the clutch and waited. The figure that stepped into view caused the corners of his mouth to twitch upward slightly.

“You son of a…”

Dr. Charles Carpenter rubbed at his wrists absently as he went over the viral loads on Brenda Wilkes’ readout. He almost regretted the young woman’s passing. She was almost tolerable as most non-academics went, but she was also vital to the mission.

He heard through the grapevine her fiancé had to be subdued and given a sedative when he heard of the unfortunate events. He kept screaming they had killed her. He knew that simply couldn’t be the case. Yet, here they sat with nearly four liters of her blood.

He pulled another sample vial and prepared a pipette. If her viral load was something other than the mutated version of the primordial rage virus, he needed to isolate it. In order for their work to be fine-tuned, they had to identify which version she carried. Two of the mutated forms were so closely related they were barely distinguishable.

He sighed as he stretched his neck and yawned. The short naps he was able to get while strapped down was not the deep, regenerative sleep that he so desperately needed. He filled the vial with a reactive enzyme, then set it into an incubator.

He knew this would take a few minutes, so he stood and reached for his coffee cup. The back of his hand brushed the handle and knocked the ceramic mug to the floor.

He threw his clipboard and screamed, a rage rising to the surface faster than he would have ever imagined. He cursed and gripped the stool he had been sitting on. With a twist of his body, he sent the metal chair flying across the workstation, destroying weeks of experiments as glassware was shattered, their contents splattered across every surface. He grabbed at the corner of the workbench and lifted with all his might, intending to upend the station when something punched him in the back of the shoulder.

He spun, ready to flatten whatever dared strike him when the room suddenly began to swim. He blinked rapidly a few times, the rage suddenly dissipating as quickly as it had arisen. His hand reached over his shoulder and his fingertips brushed the stainless-steel tranquilizer dart buried in his shoulder blade.

He felt his legs go out from under him and he gripped the edge of the table, trying to keep from face planting into the floor.

“W-why?” He stared into the eyes of the young female researcher holding the dart gun at arm’s length. He couldn’t remember her name. Was it Carol?

“Dr. LaRue gave it to me and told me to keep a close eye on you Dr. Carpenter.” She stepped closer as his eyes glazed over. She reached out and lifted one of his eyelids, staring deeply into them.

He groaned as his grip loosened and he crumpled to the floor. He wasn’t positive in his altered state of mind, but it sounded like she ordered somebody to strap him down. He tried to form the word no, but only a gurgling sound escaped his throat as the world went black.

Roger awoke with a start as the sentry shook his foot. “You wanted us to let you know if we spotted any of them again…one has returned to the ambush sight.”

Roger sat up and wiped at his eyes. “What did he look like? Did he have red hair?”

“Negative. Big fella. Black hair, black beard.”

Roger nodded and pulled his boots on. “That’s Savage.” He shot the man a crooked smile. “Fuel an ATV for me, would ya?”

“They’re already on it.” He turned and walked out while Roger pulled the flannel shirt on. He stood and quickly tucked it into his pants, then turned for the door.

“Were you going to check with me before you took off?”

He shot her another impressive smile. “I was just headed to your office.”

“I don’t sleep in my office.” She planted her hands on her hips and narrowed her gaze.

“Then I would have found where you do sleep.” He placed a hand on each of her shoulders and stared deeply at her. “This can still work if I can reach him.”

She shook her head slowly. “And if it doesn’t?”

“Then I lead them away from here.” He gave her a solemn stare. “If there’s any way possible, I’d make my way back to you.”

She raised a brow at him. “To me?”

He sighed and gave her a crooked smile. “I like you, okay?”

She opened her mouth to say something, but he pulled her close and kissed her fully on the mouth. She stiffened at first, but soon melted in his hands, her own hands wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer.

When Roger pulled away, her eyes were still closed. “I’ve wanted to do that since I first laid eyes on you.” He leaned in and kissed her more lightly on the corner of the mouth. “Please don’t be angry.”

She leaned back and slowly fluttered her eyes open. “Oh, yeah…I’m totally pissed at you.” She pulled him to her and kissed him back.

When the two broke apart, she gave him a mischievous smile. “Take that, you bastard.” Her voice was a husky whisper.

He groaned low in his throat and took a deep breath. “I have to go…especially if he’s alone.”

“Go. Be safe.” She swatted at his butt as he stepped around her.

Roger thought of Candy the entire way across town to the ambush site. He parked the ATV a couple of blocks away and walked to the trap. He wasn’t sure what was more frightening…the possibility of running into Zulus or running into Savage.

He watched the man as he picked around the kill zone. He worked his way closer as the large man appeared distracted by one thing or another.

He had to swallow his trepidation and make his move. He watched as Savage tossed the pipe he was carrying and mounted his bike. As soon as he heard the engine come to life, he stepped out from the bushes and worked his way around the end of the dead cars.

He stood in the road, directly in front of Savage’s path. He tried to give the man his award-winning smile as the big guy’s eyes focused on him.

“You son of a…”

Chapter 12

Hatcher held on to the Oh, shit handle as the Humvee bounced along the dusty trail. He clenched his jaw tight to keep from breaking his molars. He glanced to Buck who seemed to be faring much better. The boy still clutched his knife and Hatcher had a momentary vision of the young man accidentally stabbing himself.

He knew the generator calmed the monsters, but what if they had a wounded member bleeding profusely? Would the smell of blood overtake the effects of the machine?

He shook the idea from his head as the front of the truck went airborne. He instinctively tightened up in preparation for the concussive end and was surprised when the vehicle landed smoothly on the following rise. He glanced at Buck again, who was smiling. He half-expected him to let loose a Whoop! as the truck bounced again.

“We’ve got them, sir!” The driver pointed through the flat windshield and all eyes focused on where he indicated.

A large Seahawk-style helicopter circled slowly as it descended toward the ground. Hollis’ coms sparked and the radio operator reported the area clear. “They’re landing now. Nothing reported in the area, but I want all hands double-timing to that bird.” He leaned forward and glanced at the dirt and debris kicked up by the rotors. “I’m not risking another ride on these bastards.”

The driver accelerated the Humvee down a slight slope and slid to a stop just forty yards from the craft as the wheels touched down. “Let’s move people!” Hollis threw open the door and was on the ground waving his people forward.

“Should we grab the food?” Buck asked, sheathing his knife.

“Just go!” Hatcher pushed him toward the aircraft and reached for the aluminum case. “We’ll find more if we have to.”

Buck ducked low as he approached the chopper. Hatcher noted the height of the blades and realized they were all safely clear of the danger, but found himself ducking as well. He followed Buck into the craft and moved them to the far seats to allow room for Hollis’ men.

A woman in blue coveralls and a headset handed him what appeared to be a set of headphones with a microphone attachment. She tapped her own and motioned with her hands. Hatcher slipped them on and could hear her speaking.

“You’re Daniel Hatcher, yes?”

He nodded. “And you are?”

“I am Dr. LaRue. I’m the lead project researcher trying to find a cure.” She pointed to the aluminum case. “Please tell me that’s what I think it is.”

“If you think it’s stinky black goo from a hot spring, then yeah. It is what you think it is.”

She smiled and fell back against the bulkhead. “Thank god.” She turned to the pilots. “Once we’re loaded, take us to Ft. Collins. They have the samples.”

Hatcher heard the pilot respond with an affirmative and was about to ask her what the hell she meant by going to Fort Collins when rifle fire erupted just outside the craft.

Hollis stood near the door, his weapon trained on the hill before them. Hatcher could see spent cartridges spitting from the side of his weapon as he waved his men aboard. Two others were kneeling beside the craft, their weapons pointed away from them.

Hatcher fought to pull the headphones off, but one of the soldiers pushed him back. “They’re powering up to leave!”

Hatcher’s eyes widened as he realized the engines were revving and he reached toward the door. “Get him on board! Now!”

The soldier patted his shoulder and took a seat next to him. “Cap knows what he’s doing.”

Hatcher watched as the last two men boarded, then Hollis turned and stepped into the craft. He turned his attention back to the infected and emptied his magazine as the helicopter lifted from the ground.

Hollis sneered at the creatures as they launched themselves toward the landing gear, but none could connect. He pulled his empty magazine and slammed a fresh one into the mag well. He secured the door, then turned and collapsed into the cargo area. “That was too close.”

Hatcher couldn’t hear him, but he could read his lips. He waved his hand to get the man’s attention. Hollis pulled the headphones from the bulkhead and slipped them on. “Don’t tell me you were worried about me?” He smirked at the smaller man.

Hatcher hooked a thumb forward. “The pilots are taking us to Ft. Collins.”

Hollis’ brows knitted in confusion. “We have the sample.” His eyes settled on Dr. LaRue. “We have your sample, doc. What’s with Ft. Collins?”

She reached for the case, but Hatcher pulled it slightly away. “The man asked you a question, doc.”

She sighed heavily and turned toward Captain Hollis. “We are ordered to Ft. Collins to collect research that was performed prior to the outbreak. Research on the virus.”

Hollis gave her an incredulous look. “Research performed before the outbreak? On the virus…”

She nodded. “Since we were coming to get you, we thought we’d kill two birds with one stone.”

His face hardened. “We?”

“The Colonel. And I.”

Hollis glanced at Hatcher and noted the surprise on his face. “The colonel cleared you for a field op?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “Who better to locate the research than myself?”

Hollis ground his teeth and glared at her. “I think I could locate that research. I am a microbiologist.”

“You have a bachelor degree in biology, and until recently never worked in a research environment. I am clearly the right person for this job.”

Hollis’ features hardened further and he turned to Hatcher. “Apparently, unless you have PhD behind your name, you’re just a window-licking moron.”

“Pretty much.” LaRue shot back. “Sit back and relax, captain. I’ll let you know what you can do to assist me once we reach Ft. Collins.”

Savage stepped from the bike and pulled his sunglasses off. He glared at the man and cocked his head to the side. “I’m not sure if I should shake your hand for surviving or beat the dog fuck out of you.”

Roger nodded. “I understand completely.”

“Where the fuck you been?” He pointed to his face. “And what happened to your chin ferret?”

Roger held his hands up to quell the questions. “I found…someone.”

“Some one?” Savage stepped closer and narrowed his gaze.

Roger nodded again. “Okay…maybe a few someones.” He stepped back instinctively. “Hear me out, okay?”

Savage crossed his arms and continued to glare at him. Roger sighed. “This ain’t gonna work if you keep staring at me like you want to rip my gizzard out through my asshole.”

“Then talk.” His baritone voice sounded like a tuba when he was mad. He was obviously mad.

Roger blew his breath out hard and avoided eye contact. “I found a group of survivors.” He glanced at Savage who hadn’t moved. “They’re good people, man.”

Savage continued to stare at him, unmoving.

“Look, I’m not saying it’s right or wrong, but I can’t let Simon get his hooks into these folks. I’d rather ride off in the opposite direction and have him chase me down or…or, eat a bullet to keep him from finding them.”

Savage continued to stare at him, unmoving.

Roger searched the slits that were his eyes and saw nothing. He felt it best to continue. “I’ve tried since this whole thing started to convince Simon to work with other survivors. Pool our resources, help each other. But what does he do?”

“He plunders.”

Roger nodded. “Right. He plunders. And rapes. And pillages.” He began pacing, trying in vain to burn off the nervous energy that was built up inside him. “You’d think he was a damned Viking or some such.”

“And?”

Roger turned and stared at him. “Aw, come on, man. You can’t be serious right now.” He stopped pacing and stared at the larger man. “Seriously?”

Savage shifted his weight but continued to stare at him.

“What if it was your old lady, man?” Roger tried to think of Savage’s wife’s name. “Sandra?”

“Stella.”

“Oh, yeah.” Roger snapped his fingers. “Everybody’s name has to start with an ‘s.’” He turned and gave Savage a hateful look. “So, is Stella even her real name, or did Simon change it for her once she was stolen?”

Savage clenched his teeth and Roger could see the muscle in his jaw tick. He knew he’d hit a nerve.

“Hey, look, I get it man.” Roger took a half-step forward and continued his pleading. “You prefer the status quo. Simon is scared of you, and with good reason. He knows that if you were in charge, people would be more confident in their leader.” Savage raised a brow at him so Roger knew he was at least listening. “They wouldn’t be following a madman.”

Savage blew his breath out hard and stared down at his boots, shaking his head. “You ain’t helping your case any, Squirrel. You know when Simon finds out you’re alive, you won’t be. Not for long.”

Roger nodded. “Unless we get rid of Simon and combine the gang with these folks.”

Savage shook his head. “Nobody is going to take a bunch of gypsies like us. We’d never be accepted.”

Roger stepped forward, his eyes pleading again. “I was.”

He let the words hang in the air. He knew that Savage was thinking and that was his end goal from the beginning.

“Look, man…I’m not saying we have to kill Simon. We just need to send him on his way. The guys in the gang, they’d listen to you. If you told them we were joining this group, that we were going to make a go at building something GOOD here, they’d listen, and they’d do what you said.”

Savage sighed and seemed to stare through him. “What makes you think I’d want the job? What makes you think I’d be any better a leader than Simon?”

Roger nearly laughed. “I’ve watched you, man. I know we never talked much, but I’ve watched you. You know that Simon is fucking nuts. He can’t be trusted. He’d turn on any of us in a heartbeat.” Roger stepped closer, narrowing his ability to escape if Savage decided to make a grab. “Can you say you trust Simon not to screw with you by hurting Stella?”

Savage stiffened, and his jaw began to tick again. Roger feared he might have stepped over that invisible line and took another half-step back. “I’m just saying, man…you know how he is. I’ve seen the looks you give him when he’s on a rant.”

Savage finally broke from his frozen pose and spun a slow circle. “The dude is nuttier than a fruit cake.”

“Right?” Roger breathed a sigh of relief. “And I’m straight up with you here, Savage—”

“Michael.” He turned and eyed Roger cautiously. “I’ve hated that handle since Simon gave it to me.”

Roger squared his shoulders and stepped forward. He extended his hand. “Roger. Roger Mulroney.”

Savage stared at him a moment and Roger began to feel a degree of fear creep into him. He slowly extended his hand and took Roger’s. “Michael Sutton.” They shook and Roger tried not to show how impressed he was by the shovel-sized mitt that had his hand engulfed.

“I wasn’t kidding. I know the gang would follow you. And if you offered them something… bigger? Bigger than themselves?” He turned and motioned to the rest of the city behind them. “We could reestablish ourselves. Make a life. Give the families some stability.”

Michael stared out at all of the empty houses and envisioned a community. A place they could call home, where neighbor helped neighbor. He saw community gardens, kids playing on something other than desert sands or pavement, humanity making a foothold and thriving, instead of simply surviving.

He turned back to Roger. “He’s too smart for a coup. He’d shoot me in the back of the head before I could overthrow him.”

Roger sighed and gave the big man weary eyes. “You’re my only hope, Mike. There’s no way he’d trust me if I went back.” He motioned to himself. “Especially now. Clean-shaven and Eddie Bauer clothes…not exactly biker material now am I?”

Michael tapped his foot, his finger tapping at his chin while he thought. “I came out looking for some kind of insight. I knew something was off, but I didn’t know exactly how.” He shook his head. “Maybe if I led them away…have one or two shoot back here on their own?”

Roger held a hand up to stop him. “No, man, that wouldn’t work. He’d catch on and it would only take one of the weaker ones to turn on you…the whole thing would be shot to hell before it got started.”

Michael nodded. “You’re right.” He looked at the smaller man and growled. “I’ll have to kill him.”

The Command Duty Officer stood outside of the quarantine room and stared through the porthole glass. “Are you certain?”

“We tested his blood. There is a viral load, but it’s slight.” The young woman sighed and handed him the chart. “There wasn’t any physical changes of note after he was attacked, so we cleared him.”

The CDO looked over the chart then handed it back to her. “Is this a death sentence, doctor?”

She shook her head. “He was infected by a test subject that was nearly in full remission.” She tucked the chart under her arm and peered through the window. “He doesn’t have blood pooling in his eyes and he isn’t running a temperature. Yet.” She cleared her throat and pulled the officer from the door. “I’d like your permission to start him on the treatments that Dr. LaRue pioneered. I think the circumstances warrant their use, and by catching it early, I honestly believe he can make a full receovery.”

He raised a brow. “That isn’t already protocol?”

She shook her head. “They’re still experimental treatments, sir. But it’s really the only thing we have available.”

The man sighed and glanced back through the porthole glass. “It’s the only option?”

She nodded. “At the moment, sir. But that’s not to say that Dr. LaRue won’t return and be able to develop something better.” She slowly blew her breath out. “We just can’t predict how long that might take. He may not have time to…” she trailed off.

“Time for what?” He turned and faced her. “Are you saying the version he has is fatal?”

She shook her head. “We can’t know how much brain damage is caused from the infection. If it goes into full-blown infection, he could lose everything that makes him him.”

The CDO closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. “I have no idea what to do.” He opened his eyes and stared at her. “Do what you feel is most appropriate. This whole section is basically civilian. You just operate on my vessel. You don’t need my permission to do what you need to do.”

“Very well, sir. Thank you.” She turned and nodded to the technicians preparing the treatments. “Let’s get this started.”

Candy paced nervously and stiffened when she heard the engine approaching. She rushed to the corner of the gate and saw Roger accelerate the ATV up the road and pull into the staging area.

“How’d it go?” she asked nervously as he pulled to a stop.

He stepped off the four-wheeler and sighed. “We talked. He seemed receptive.”

“But?”

Roger hung his head. “He can’t think of a way to convince the others without killing Simon.”

Candy nodded. “Okay.”

He turned and gave her a curious look. “Okay?”

“If this guy is as dangerous as you said he is, I can only see his demise as improving the world.” She fell into step beside him.

Roger understood her logic, but a part of him had hoped that if Simon could just see the possibilities, he could be converted. Another part knew that the only conversion for Simon would be banishment or prison. Death served the same purpose.

“I guess I had hopes that Mike would have another idea.”

“Mike?”

He gave her a crooked smile. “Turns out Savage has a real name. Michael Sutton.” He shook his head. “Who’d have thought that a walking mountain would have a name like Michael Sutton?”

“I like it.” She hooked her arm through his. “So what’s the plan?”

Roger paused and glanced around to ensure they were alone. “He plans to kill Simon.”

She nodded. “And then?”

“Then, once he takes over and gets the people calmed down and feeling secure, he’ll contact me and I’ll go and talk to them. I’ll introduce them to the idea we had and see about getting them incorporated with us.”

She nodded. “And how’s he supposed to make contact?” Her gaze narrowed slightly as she waited for his answer.

Roger smiled at her and patted her hand. “No worries. I didn’t tell him where we are. He’s going to go back to the ambush sight and make enough noise that we can hear him. Then I’ll go to him.”

“And you don’t think Simon will catch on? Or maybe this Savage is playing you?”

Roger thought for a moment. “I can go by their camp and see if there’s any signs of excitement. If there is, we hunker down. If not, we cross our fingers and hope.” He blew his breath out and nodded to the kitchen. “I better get some coffee. It could be a long day.”

She sighed with relief and pulled him toward the cafeteria. “You need to eat. Man cannot live on coffee alone.”

He chuckled as he fell into step behind her. “Wanna bet?”

Chapter 13

Hollis glared at Dr. LaRue. He handed her back his orders and squared his shoulders. “Looks like we trained monkeys are heading to Colorado.”

“I don’t get it,” Hatcher said, giving him a worried look. “You got your primordial sample. Why on earth would we go to Ft. Collins and rifle through somebody else’s research?”

“Because it could prove quite useful in our attempts to—”

“Because orders are orders, ranger,” Hollis said, cutting off Dr. LaRue. “If there’s one thing we trained monkeys are good at, it’s taking orders.”

Vivian opened her mouth to say something when Hatcher held up a hand to stave off the pissing match. “I get it you have orders. But Buck and I aren’t military. We need to get back to our people.”

Hollis’ face was stoic. “I can’t help you with that ranger. Ft. Collins is more or less on our way.” He turned and glared at Dr. LaRue. “If somebody knows what they’re doing, then we shouldn’t be there for long. It will barely be a pit stop on your way home.”

Hatcher groaned and leaned back against the bulkhead. The last thing he wanted was to drag Buck into another potentially hostile environment, especially after just pulling him from one.

Dr. LaRue eyed Hollis cautiously. She keyed her mic. “Captain, would you please switch to channel three.” It was a command, not a request.

Hollis was about to tell her that anything she had to say to him, she could say on the primary channel, but she had already switched her headphones. He sighed and connected with her on the new channel.

“What, doctor?”

She glared at him. “I am the primary on this little excursion. You and your men are at my disposal. I need you to understand that.”

“Disposal. Good choice of words for expendable personnel, doctor.”

“You know what I meant. Don’t twist my words—”

“I don’t have to twist your words, doctor. I am quite aware of the disdain and contempt you hold for we mere mortals.” If the look he gave her had missed and hit the chopper, it would have peeled the paint. “Trust me. I know how to take orders, ma’am. My men and I are at your disposal.”

He switched back to the primary channel before she could respond. He may have to follow her lead, but he didn’t have to show her any more respect than she showed him. She wasn’t in his chain of command and she wasn’t military. She was just another civilian with a god complex.

He turned to his staff sergeant. “Things have the potential to be hairy there. I know you boys are beat, but I need you frosty down there.”

“We’re good, sir.”

Hollis could see the fatigue in the man’s eyes. He knew he certainly felt it as well. He squeezed the man’s shoulder. “Get some sleep if you can. We’ll be there sooner than you think.”

He turned back to Hatcher. “You have no dog in this fight, ranger. I need you to stay on board and if anything happens…” he trailed off.

“I understand. Get the case back to the fleet.” He glanced at LaRue who was ignoring the conversation. He wondered, if she was the lead researcher, was there still a chance with this black ooze if anything happened to her? He tapped her leg to get her attention. “Hey, doc, what’s this research that’s so important?”

“There was a scientist with the military that worked out of Fort Collins. He was doing work on the virus before the pandemic.”

Hatcher nodded, then turned back to her with surprise. “Wait. Before the pandemic? How is that possible?”

She hemmed slightly before answering. “We had discovered the virus a few years back. We published a paper on it as a possible cause for the extinction of Neanderthal man.”

“We? You and this researcher?”

“No, it was another man that I worked with. But I knew the researcher whose work we’re trying to obtain.” She gave him a tight-lipped, but sad smile. “He was a good man.”

“A good man that was working on this bug? To weaponize it?”

She shook her head. “I have no idea what they were doing. I just know that it involved the virus. I do know he’s the fellow that invented the sonic generator.”

Hatcher’s gears spun as he tried to process the information. “Wait, so…he was working on the virus before it got out, AND he invented the only known device that calms the infected?” He shot her an accusatory look. “Sounds to me like they must have had something to test it on, yeah?”

She felt her mouth go dry and she tried to swallow the fear that rose up. “I-I can’t say what they had or didn’t have. I just know he was working on the virus.” She had visibly paled.

Hatcher turned to Hollis who appeared even angrier than before. “Still think I have no reason to be pissed?”

Dr. LaRue keyed her mic. “Why would you be angry?”

Hollis stared at her. “You were there, doc. You saw the colonel blow up the top of that mountain. You two were the first to evacuate once he realized what he’d done.” He crossed his arms and glared at her. “Now you’re telling us the military had this virus before its release in the wild and they had the generator.” He looked to Hatcher and shook his head. “Looks like you were right, ranger.”

“Wait!” Vivian held her hands up to interject. “Right? What was he right about?”

Hatcher spun her to face him. “That the military KNEW about this shit before it was released. And Vickers dispersed it on purpose.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh! NO! No, no…he didn’t do it on purpose. He really thought he was destroying the primary vector by blowing up the infected.” She swallowed hard. “He didn’t realize it came from the hot spring until…” her voice trailed off.

“Until what, doc?” Hatcher barked. “Until we TOLD him? Before he blew up the mountain?”

She shook her head, ignoring his words. Vickers couldn’t possibly have known. Surely not. He was an ass, but he wouldn’t purposely infect the grand majority of the population…would he?

She looked up at the two men and opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Had she been working all this time to try to put the curse back into Pandora’s box? Had it all been an exercise in futility? Had Colonel Vickers done this on purpose? Was he just following orders?

She took a deep breath and looked up at the two men. “Regardless of how this may have happened, I need that research to try to stop it.” She turned and faced Hollis. “And you will help me make that happen.”

“Where the hell did you go?” Simon barked, his face red with anger.

Savage paused and his shoulders slumped. He couldn’t help but see Simon as that little purse dog again. He turned slowly and pulled his sunglasses off. “I went back out to the trap. Something didn’t sit right with me, but I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what.”

Simon marched up to the big man and glared at him. “You didn’t ask permission first.”

Savage fought back the urge to crush his head like a grape. “You’re not my dad. I’m a grown-assed man and I’ll do what I need to do.” He bent and lowered his voice. “Your tantrums and intimidation shit might work with the idiots you got riding with you, but it ain’t gonna work with me. I only ride with you and do what you ask because there’s safety in numbers.” He poked the smaller man in the chest with a meaty finger. “You’d do well to remember that.”

Simon’s eyes bulged wider. “What happened to I got your back, boss and I always will?”

Savage sighed and stood taller. “When you’re not acting like a narcissistic asshole, I do have your back. But when you act like a spoiled five-year-old, I have to ignore you.”

“Ignore me?” Simon stepped in front of him again. “Motherfucker, you can’t ignore me. I run this gang!”

Savage gave him a smile that chilled Simon’s blood. “Then act like a fucking man and not a spoiled brat.” He lowered his voice again, “You’ll get respect when you’ve earned it.”

He stepped around Simon and walked away.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To sleep. I was up all night thinking about that ambush. I need some rest.”

Simon watched him go, then glanced around to ensure nobody else had heard their exchange. He couldn’t have Savage, or anybody else for that matter, questioning his authority. Not in front of the other members.

Simon walked back to his tent, muttering to himself. He couldn’t allow Savage to keep disrespecting him. He really didn’t want to kill the beast, but if a dog bites the hand that feeds it, you have to put it down. He paused outside the flap of his tent and stared in the direction of Savage’s RV.

Perhaps it was time they had a catastrophic failure. A gas leak? A fire? Carbon monoxide poisoning? He was certain he’d think of something.

Colonel Vickers scanned the report and smiled. “I told you they’d be alive. That Hatcher is a survivor.” He tried not to remember his escaping from the park when the mountain released the virus. He read through the rest of the daily report. “Dr. Carpenter is infected?” He lowered the paper and stared at the CDO.

“Yes, sir.” He cleared his throat. “They’re trying an experimental treatment on him while it’s still early.”

“Did they put him in with the other infected?”

“Negative, sir. His reaction was…” he trailed off, searching for the right words.

“Accelerated?”

“No, sir. Quite the opposite.” The CDO tried to remember exactly what the researcher told him. “He had been infected by a subject that was undergoing the treatment. From what I understand, the subject was responding well, appeared even to have some returning cognizance, but Dr. Carpenter was infected. The virus is reacting much slower, but he does test positive for it in his blood.”

Colonel Vickers leaned back in his chair and swiveled it slowly side to side. “And they’re going to use the same treatments on him as they did the test subject?”

The CDO shrugged. “They weren’t specific in what treatment options they were going to use, only that they wanted to start now, even though Dr. LaRue is in the field.”

Vickers nodded. “Keep me apprised of his condition.” He initialed the report and handed it back to him. “If there’s any change, I want to know.”

The CDO nodded. “Of course, sir.” He paused and gave the colonel a curious look. “Is there a reason why you are so interested in this particular researcher, sir?”

Vickers shook his head. “Nope. It’s just been a while since we had a fresh infection.” He lowered his pen and eyed the man. “I’m curious if this slower infection rate is because the virus was weakened by the treatment, or if the damned thing has mutated again and now it simply acts slower.”

“Understood, sir.” The CDO snapped a salute and did an about-face.

Vickers watched him leave, then reached for his coffee. If people could walk around infected for days before their symptoms manifested, his job could have gotten a whole lot tougher.

Roger hid behind a double row of abandoned cars and pulled his binoculars. He focused on the RV’s, tents, and trailers set up around the public park. The grass had almost all turned brown from the lack of water and kids played listlessly on the playground. Apparently, even playing could lose its luster.

He tried to locate Savage’s RV and finally spotted it along the furthest row. Parked nearly at the end, he watched as the big man pulled open the door and stepped inside.

Roger dipped below the fender, out of eyesight from those meandering through the makeshift village and pulled his radio. “Got yer ears on?”

There was a short kick of static before Candy’s voice came through the tiny speaker. “You know I do. I’ve been on pins and needles since you left.”

“I think you can relax. I’m seeing zero activity over here. I hedged my bet on Mike and it looks like I read him right. There’s nothing going on that would suggest he sold us out.”

He could almost feel the tension through the radio. “It’s kind of early to make that call, don’t ya think?”

Roger smiled to himself and peered over the fender again. “I have to disagree. I know Simon. If he had the slightest inkling I were alive, he’d be putting together a posse post haste.”

There was a pregnant silence he wasn’t sure how to read. When she came back across, her message was short and sweet. “Fine. Get back now. Out.”

He heard another short burst of static and knew she had turned her radio off. He grunted to himself as he tucked the unit back into his pocket. “No time like the present.”

Roger stood, but stayed bent below the cabin of the car. He heard a pump shotgun being cycled and froze.

“Squirrel?” Roger turned slowly and faced one of the members, his shotgun slowly lowering as he recognized him. “I heard you was dead.”

Roger shot him his award-winning smile. “I fear the rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated.”

The man cocked his head to the side and gave him a confused look. “Huh?”

Roger stood erect and approached the sentry. “Sorry to have spooked you, bud.” He stepped closer and glanced in opposite directions to ensure they weren’t observed. “Simon sent me on a secret mission. That’s why I shaved my beard.” He gave the man a lopsided smile. “He’s convinced the guy in the military truck came from around here. He said if I cleaned up a bit and did some sniffing around, I might could flush out his group.”

The man’s eyes widened, and he nodded, his feeble mind trying to keep up. “So, you’re not dead?”

Roger fought the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Technically, no. But Simon wants everybody to think I am. It’s all part of his plan.”

The sentry nodded. “I gotcha.” He looked over the cars to the camp. “But why are you here if you’re undercover?”

“I got hungry. You know a hungry dog always goes home to eat.” He winked at the man and wrapped an arm over his shoulder, leading him away from the cars. “I don’t guess you have a sandwich on you, do you?”

“No, I don’t carry food when I’m on du—”

Roger twisted the man’s neck midsentence and slowly lowered him to the ground while his body convulsed. He tucked the shotgun under his arm and took the man by one arm, dragging him backward toward a building.

“I’m sorry, buddy. You didn’t deserve that.” He pulled him to the rear of the building and rolled him down a gentle embankment. “But I can’t risk anybody finding out I’m not dead.” He stood and glanced back at the camp. “Not yet, anyway.”

Chapter 14

“You get this chopper out of the zone if you suspect anything.” Hollis checked his weapon as the craft made a slow approach. He tapped the pilot. “I’m serious, Bud. You get an itch someplace that shouldn’t ought to itch, you put this bird in the air.”

“Read you five by five, Captain.”

Hollis felt the landing gear make contact with the grass and felt the air from the open door before he even spun around. He waved his men out, barking at the last three to set a perimeter guard, then he stepped out. Dr. LaRue waited by the door of the chopper for a helping hand down.

She didn’t get one.

She huffed, her eyes boring a hole into the back of Hollis’ head, then she hopped from the craft. She began marching toward the main building, a non-descript brick structure surrounded by security fences and empty guard shacks.

She glanced back over her shoulder and saw that the pilot had landed them inside the fences, with only feet to spare from the tail end of the craft. She cringed when the thought of being stranded here struck her. She turned back to the task at hand and pushed the thought from her mind.

“We’re looking for a BSL-3 lab.”

Hollis looked at her questioningly. “Basement level? Great. No lights.”

She paused and rolled her eyes. “No. It’s a Biosafety Level Three. You’d know that if you had ever done any real work in one.” She threw her nose into the air and continued marching, taking a certain degree of pride in knocking the man down a few notches.

Hollis shook his head. “You’re right, doc. The only trained monkeys allowed in your labs are the test subjects.” He motioned forward and two of his men entered the foyer through the open security doors. “Secure the area.” He watched as they cleared every corner, then stacked up on the stairwell.

“Stay behind us, doctor. Let us do our job so you can do yours.” Hollis nodded to the lead breacher. The man blew the security lock with his shotgun and the team flowed into the darkened stairwell, torches flipping on as they cleared the stairs leading up and down.

Hollis turned to Dr. LaRue. “What floor?”

“Sublevel two.”

“So, I was right. A fuckin’ basement.” He squeezed the shoulder of the man ahead of him and the message was relayed forward. The lead operator began moving wordlessly and the entire team worked their way to the second lower level.

As they entered the floor, the team stacked up into two groups of three, each taking a different direction. Hollis held Dr. LaRue back while the team swept the floor.

When both teams returned, they reported all clear in the open areas. Some of the labs were still locked and couldn’t be cleared.

“Looks like you’re on, doc. Point out the lab and we’ll blow the security lock.” She referred to her notes and glanced to the wall placard. “That way.” She pointed to her right and the teams worked their way down the hallway. “Lab 5-2S.”

They stacked on either side of the security door and Hollis motioned to his breacher. The man removed the deadbolt with one blast and the second man kicked the door open. They entered the space and a smell that was nothing short of concentrated death struck them.

Hollis heard one of the men choke as he tried not to vomit. Most pulled their shemagh scarfs up, covering their mouths and noses.

“I need a sweep!” Hollis’ voice sounded off as he tried to breathe through his mouth. He swore he could taste the stench every time he took a breath.

Dr. LaRue was already sweeping through the file cabinet closest to the desk as the men worked through the lab. One man approached and whispered to the captain.

Hollis perked and followed him inside the lab. He saw the source of the smell. A person was restrained on an exam table, a bite-guard strapped their mouth. He approached slowly and tried to lift an eyelid. Although the eyes were deteriorating, he could tell they had been full of blood prior to death.

“Looks like your researcher had a test subject in here, doc.” His tone was accusatory.

She stiffened, but chose to ignore his barb. “Look for any files he may have had out.”

“You didn’t hear me? Your boy had an infected person in here.” He stepped out of the lab and approached the desk. “Let me guess, he nabbed one of the first to get infected and was using them, right?”

She paused and blew her breath out, trying hard not to smell the sickly-sweet stench as she breathed. “I’m not going to try to justify his actions.” She pulled the power cord from the laptop on the table and wrapped it loosely around the case. “But if any of this crap will help us find a cure, then I don’t care if he was clubbing baby seals, you understand me? It’s not our job to second guess what anybody was doing prior to the release, it’s our job to find a damned CURE!”

Hollis looked down his nose at her then motioned to his men. “Gather up anything that looks like research notes. We’re bugging out in five.”

He stepped to the doorway and she continued rifling through the desk. “I’ll need more than five minutes, captain.”

“And yet, you’ll be done in that time or you’ll be left behind.” He scanned the hallways then checked his watch. “My orders didn’t include camping out here with the motor running, doc. Our ride will leave us behind if we don’t double-time it.”

She huffed again then turned for the next file cabinet. She rifled through the top drawer when their radios crackled to life.

“Captain, we have contact out here!”

Stella eyed him cautiously. “What do you mean, settle down?”

Savage shrugged. “I’m saying, what if we found a place where we could just…stop. Settle down. Maybe grow our own food. You know…live.”

She sat down gingerly and wrung her hands together. “Without the others?”

Savage shrugged again. “Maybe. Maybe some of them.” He looked up at her and smiled. It seemed foreign to her. “Maybe all of them.”

She sipped at the instant coffee and averted her eyes. “What about the ragers?”

Savage reached out tentatively and took her hand. “We’d be safe from them. Safety in numbers, you know that, right?”

She nodded absently.

“So, do you think you’d like something like that?”

She gazed out the window at the children meandering around the playground equipment. “What about kids?”

“Well, yeah. They’d come, too.”

She turned back to him and he read the sorrow in her eyes. “I meant…what about…” she trailed off, unable to say what her heart so dearly wanted to know.

Savage sobered and sat upright. “Wait. You mean like…our kids?”

She looked away and nodded. “I know you’re gay and all, but—”

“Woah! Back up the truck.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her attention back to him. “What do you mean, gay?”

She swallowed hard and stared at him with wide eyes. “I haven’t told anybody, Savage. I swear. Nobody knows that we don’t…”

He slid from the tiny dinette and paced. “You mean to tell me you think I’m queer? Because I haven’t—”

“It’s okay! I promise.” She quickly lowered her voice and took his hands to keep him from pacing the small area. “I haven’t told a soul.” She probed his face for understanding. “I just…I want kids one day.”

“Okay.” He looked at her expectantly.

“And if you’re into guys…I was just hoping you’d still let me…you know.”

He stiffened and his eyes bulged. “Look, I am not gay.”

She nodded furiously. “Okay, sure. I believe you.”

He grabbed her shoulders and shook her slightly. “I mean it. I am not gay.”

She shook her head. “I don’t care if you are. Really. I understand completely. My cousin is gay and…well, he was. I don’t know if he’s still alive.”

“But I’m not.” He planted his hands on his hips and stared down at her.

She studied him for a moment, then her face fell. “If you’re not gay…then…” She choked slightly and turned away from him. “Am I that hideous to you?”

Savage could have been knocked over with a feather. He stared at the back of her head and he felt his jaw working, but no words would come out. He heard her sob and he did the only thing he could think to do. He pulled her to him and wrapped his huge arms around her.

He held her and felt her crying in his arms. It broke something inside him and he turned her around to face him. He lifted her chin and stared at her tear- and snot-covered face. He wiped at her cheek with the back of his hand and whispered softly, “You’re the most beautiful gal I’ve ever seen.”

She looked up to him, hopeful. “Then why won’t you…”

He shushed her and pulled her into another embrace. “It’s not that I don’t want to.” He sighed and stroked her hair while he tried to think of the right words. “You’re not property.”

She stiffened slightly and pulled away from him. “What?”

He stumbled over the words as his exhausted mind tried to search for the right ones. “Simon gave you to me. That’s not…that’s not the way things are done. You’re not a thing. You’re a person. With feelings and—”

“And what?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“And, I would want you to care about me before we…,” he trailed off, the right words refusing to come.

She actually snorted when she laughed and she pulled him tight. He could feel her body shaking against his own and he wasn’t sure if it was laughing or crying.

“Stella?” He pushed her back so he could see her face. “You okay?”

She nodded and covered her mouth. She fell into the dinette and wiped at her face, laughter still slipping past her.

“What’s so funny?”

She shook her head. “All this time, I thought you must be gay. And you only kept me around so the others wouldn’t know.”

“No.” He sat across from her. “I really like you. I just…” He clenched his jaw and ground his teeth. “It felt like I would be forcing you if we did anything. You deserve better than that.”

She stood on the cushion and crawled across the tiny table. She grabbed him by both sides of the face and pulled him to her for a deep, passionate kiss.

Savage was shocked and stared at her with wide eyes. He leaned forward slightly and kissed her back. When she pulled away, she was still fighting back the laughter.

“Am I a funny kisser?” he mocked.

She shook her head. “I’m just happy. I laugh when I’m happy.”

He pulled away from her and stared hard into her eyes. “Why didn’t you just say something?”

“Why didn’t you?” She leaned back on her heels and he felt the table threaten to tip. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to be with you? I was afraid you didn’t like me.”

He shook his head and lowered his eyes. “I didn’t want to hurt you.” He swallowed hard. “I swore I’d protect you from that kind of pain.”

She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “I asked Simon to give me to you.” She saw the surprise as it crossed his features. “I thought you were hot and I knew I’d be safe with you.” She leaned over and kissed him again. “I just didn’t think I was going to be that safe.”

He growled low in his throat and scooped her from the table. “You’re not safe any longer.” He carried her to the bedroom and tossed her unceremoniously onto the mattress.

She looked up at him with a feral ferocity in her eyes. “It’s about damned time.”

Charles’ eyes snapped open and he struggled with the leather restraints holding him to the gurney. “What the hell is going on here?” He pulled until the veins popped out on his forehead and his skin began to tear near the edge of the strap.

“Doctor, you need to calm down,” a large man in white scrubs ordered. “You’ve been infected.”

“Like hell, you idiot!” Charles pulled at the other strap and his face began turning red with the strain. He collapsed on the mattress, panting. “If I were infected, I’d be trying to eat your face, you wingnut!”

The large man reached for his chart and pulled it up to his face. He flipped the front page back and pointed to the test results indicating a viral load. “See? I wouldn’t lie to you, doc.” He held the page closer and Charles squinted, trying to read the data.

“I don’t believe you! Untie me now dammit!”

The door was kicked open and the young female researcher whose name he couldn’t remember walked in, a needle in her hand. “You’re disturbing the others, Doctor Carpenter. I’m afraid you’ll have to be sedated again.”

“Like hell!” He tugged at the strap again and the large man gripped his forearms, trying to hold him down.

Carol reached over the pair and injected a clear liquid into the saline drip. “I would tell you to count down from ten, but…” she trailed off. Charles felt the fight abandon him and he collapsed under the weight of the intern. “And, he’s out.” She patted the man’s arm and clipped the chart back to the end of the gurney.

“He looks like an overcooked bowl of oatmeal. Who’d a thought he was that strong.” The intern said, rubbing at his shoulders.

“It’s the virus.” She watched Charles for a moment, then shook her head with disbelief. “I just can’t understand why his reaction is so different than other people’s.” She glanced at her watch then marked the time and sedative dose on the chart. “Keep an eye on him. If he burns through that quicker than normal, we need to document it.”

The intern stiffened. “You want me to stay in here? With him?”

She rolled her eyes, then tucked her pen back into her breast pocket. “Just check on him from time to time. When he wakes, let me know.”

The man nodded quickly, then rushed from the room. She stared after him a moment, then fell into step behind him. “Why are you suddenly afraid of him? Is it because of his increased strength?”

The intern paused and sighed. He turned slowly and avoided her eyes. “I heard how he got infected. By one of the test subjects that was nearly cured, right?” He shook his head vigorously. “The dude that got him was on the mend and the doc still got infected.” He hooked a thumb toward the isolation ward. “He’s infected. He may not be bleeding out his eyeballs or screaming like a banshee, but he’s got the bug.”

She nodded, trying to follow his logic. “And?”

“And I don’t want to risk that son of a bitch infecting me!” He stepped farther away and glared at the door. “He’s one of them types that looks down his nose at folks like me. He wouldn’t give two shits if I got infected, much less if he was the one to do it during one of his fits. Thank, but no thanks. I want no part of it.”

Carol sighed heavily and nodded. “Understood.” She looked up and searched the man’s face. “Just check on him. You don’t have to touch him; you don’t have to interact with him. Just check on him; make sure that his saline is full and report to me if he comes to. Can you do that?”

The man nodded, his face still full of worry and anger. “Yes, ma’am. I can do that.”

“Thank you.” She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and he glanced at it as though she had wiped a bugger on him. He turned and marched out of the room.

She leaned against the counter and rubbed at her eyes. “I need a raise.”

“What took you so long?” Candy was nearly frantic and Vicky hovered, waiting for an explanation.

Roger slid off the ATV and blew his breath out hard. “I ran into some trouble.” He searched their faces, hoping they would interpret, understand, and drop it. They didn’t.

“What kind of trouble?”

He stepped away from the ATV and lowered his voice. “I got made. By one of the members.”

Vicky waved him on with her hand and Candy’s eyes widened. “What happened?”

Roger clenched his jaw and shook his head slowly. “I had to remove him.” Candy’s face dropped and she turned to walk away. He fell into step behind her, talking quickly. “I had to. I couldn’t risk him going to Simon and letting it slip that he saw me.”

She stopped and spun on him. “What do you mean, let it slip?”

Roger balked, holding his hands up defensively. “I may have…I may have convinced him that Simon had me working undercover. To try and flush out your group.” He waved at his face. “That’s why I shaved the beard and raided an LL Bean…to convince you I was harmless.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And?”

“And…I think he bought it. But I couldn’t risk it. I got close and I…removed him from the chess board.”

“You killed him.” It was a statement, not a question.

He nodded. “I had to.”

Vicky blew her breath out hard and eyed Candy. “He did the right thing.”

Candy’s jaw ticked as she tried to play out the scenario in her mind. Slowly, she began to nod. “I don’t like it, but you probably did.” She glanced around the busy warehouse, then turned for her office. “I’m glad you made it back okay.”

Roger’s mouth fell open and he turned to Vicky. “What the what?”

She shook her head. “Give her a little time to come to terms.”

“It’s not like I had much choice here. I couldn’t risk—”

“I know.” She wrapped an arm over his shoulder and walked him slowly away from the foyer. “Just give her time. This whole running things is new to her. She has to make a lot of adjustments and something like this is just too much at once.”

Roger stopped and stared into Vicky’s eyes. “You know this isn’t me, right? I mean, I don’t do something like this lightly.”

“I know. And so does she. But you need to give her a little more time to make her heart realize it. Her head knows that it makes all kinds of logical sense.”

Roger sighed and leaned against the large concrete column. “It’s not like I went there looking for trouble.”

“We know that, Roger. You did it to make sure we were safe. And because of you, we don’t have to increase the guards; everybody gets to keep their shifts and people can get the sleep they need.”

“And all it cost me was another man’s blood on my hands.”

She pulled him close and hugged him. “Don’t oversimplify things. You did good.” She pulled back and gave him a forlorn smile. “She’ll come to terms. Just give her a little space.”

Roger nodded and trudged back to the mattress he called home. He remembered one of his wife’s favorite sayings when she wasn’t pleased with a situation. “I shaved my legs for this?”

Chapter 15

Hollis stacked along the wall just outside the stairwell door. His men were on either side of him and Dr. LaRue was stuck in his shadow. He felt the squeeze on his shoulder and passed it forward. When the lead man advanced, the entire team moved as one unit.

The door was pulled open and the team entered the stairwell, one man holding the landing where they led further into the basement and the others silently moving upward. Hollis felt the weight of the files and associated paperwork as it bounced on his back. He said nothing as LaRue gripped his middle.

As they approached the ground floor, the men stacked outside the double doors and Hollis pulled them open, his men entering the foyer, weapons leveled. They fanned out in the openly-lit area, each scanning their field of fire.

“Let’s move, people!” Hollis barked as he dragged LaRue toward the exit. Suppressed weapons fire greeted them as they pulled the front doors open and Hollis watched in awe as a wave of Zeds crested the hill below. He keyed his coms and yelled, “Get that bird in the air! Either circle back and get us or go to the roof!”

He heard the engines rev up and the spinning blades blew debris in all directions. He waved his men forward, “Cover the chopper! Don’t let them get close!”

His men lined up along the front entrance of the laboratory building and aimed for the advancing horde.

“Jesus Christ…where are they coming from?”

Hollis reached behind him and pushed LaRue back toward the doors. “Stay back!” He actually sighed with relief when the chopper lifted from the ground, the closest moving Zed at least fifty yards from the craft.

“Keep them covered.” He turned and dragged LaRue with him.

“Where are we going?” She insisted as he physically pulled her away.

“The roof. Now go!” He pushed her unceremoniously toward the doors. “Wait by the stairwell.” He tapped two of his men to provide coverage for the researcher, then began searching the area for a way to secure the front doors. He was looking for something, anything to slow the Zeds from getting into the building. “Suddenly, shooting out the locks didn’t seem so smart.” He tapped his closest man and barked at him to retreat.

He stood by the door while each man fired his final shots at the horde, then slipped inside. He came in last and pulled the doors shut. He scanned the interior as quickly as he could, looking for anything he could use to secure them. He could see the Zeds sprinting up the hill and surrendered the cause. He spun and bolted for the stairs. “The roof! Now!”

His men breached the stairwell again and began double timing up into the darkness. He knew what they were up against and threw caution to the wind. If they encountered anything in the stairwell, they’d deal with it as they were trained. He just prayed that they could access the roof without blowing the doors.

He knew from the outside assessment they only had four floors between the ground and the roof. He cursed to himself as LaRue slowed the team’s advancement. He slung his rifle and scooped her tiny frame up with one arm, tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of dog food.

“I’m-per-fect-ly-ca-pa-ble…” she tried to say as she was bounced up the stairs.

“No time for slacking, doc!” He rounded the corner of the final landing and could see his men surrounding the roof access. “Tell me it’s open.”

“Negative, sir.” The breacher stepped forward and lowered his shotgun. “Electronic lock, and since the power is out—”

“Do it!” Hollis turned LaRue away from the blast just in case any shrapnel came their way, and he could hear the horde as they stormed up the stairs. “God help us,” he whispered.

He saw the light from outside wash the interior hallway and the shadows told him his men were exiting onto the roof. He could barely hear the chopper’s blades from the ruckus the Zeds were making as they bounded up the stairs.

He set LaRue down and pushed her toward the roof. “Go. Now.” He turned back to the stairwell and fed a fresh magazine into his rifle.

“Aren’t you coming?”

“I’m right behind you, doc.” He chambered a round and lowered his weapon to cover the stairs. “Now GO!”

“But—”

“I said GO!” He loosed a shot into the first Zed to round the corner of the stairs.

LaRue screamed and bolted up the remaining steps and burst out onto the sun-drenched roof. She saw the helicopter nearly hovering along the edge of the roof, its landing gear rising and lowering as the pilot feathered the throttle.

“Let’s move it, ma’am!” one of Hollis’ men waved her toward the craft. She slid to a stop at the door and turned back to the stairwell. “The captain is still in there!”

“Load up, ma’am. I’ll get him.” The soldier turned toward the door as the first Zed burst from the darkened doorway. He slid to a stop, his feet threatening to come out from under him as he turned and bolted for the chopper door.

“Go! Go! Go!” the soldier screamed as he leapt for the opening in the side of the helicopter. He landed hard on his ribs and rolled to his back, his weapon coming up and firing at the advancing infected.

The helicopter lifted from the roof and swung away just as the first of the Zeds launched toward the escaping aircraft. The crew watched in horror as infected humans leapt from the edge of the roof and fell short of connecting with their desired flight.

Buck was on the opposite side of the craft near a window and watched as the first of the infected impacted the cement walkway below. He leaned back in his seat and stared at Hatcher. “I didn’t think they’d…” he trailed off, his throat suddenly dry.

Hatcher watched the color drain from the young man’s face and glanced out the window. Pools of blood were forming around the heads of the fallen Zulus. He could only imagine what the boy had seen.

Simon sat outside of his tent on a folding chair, a long stick dragging through the coals of a now dead fire. The bottle of whiskey at his feet was nearly empty, and his eyes looked like he had drunk the grand majority of the spirits himself.

He stood and unzipped his pants. Fishing his pecker out, he swayed while he tried to piss on the remaining coals. He smiled with a degree of satisfaction at the hissing sound he created.

“Boss, that ain’t cool. There’s little kids all over the place.”

Simon spun and dribbled urine down his leg. He stared at the minion who dared speak to him while he drained his royal lizard. “Fuck ’em. Little shits will learn soon enough what’s what.” He tried to tuck his member back into his pants, but had too much difficulty. He knew from experience not to pull the zipper back up too quickly when he was three sheets to the wind. He had a permanent scar across the top of his Johnson from the last time he did that.

“What do you want, anyway?” He staggered toward the man and nearly fell.

“We found Scar, boss. He’s deader than shit.” The man pointed across the compound. “He was a sentry over there.”

Simon stared at the man, his face unreadable. Finally, he nodded and leaned against the back of a pickup truck. “Okay.” He turned and stared out across his small kingdom. “So?”

“So?” The man approached slowly and talked softer. “Boss, he’s dead.”

“I heard you, fucker.” He spun and pointed a finger at him. “I’m the king, not the messiah. I can’t bring his sorry ass back to life.”

The man stopped advancing and stared at him cautiously. “Well, should we do something?”

Simon shrugged animatedly. “Strip him of anything usable and toss his ass to the ragers.” He broke into a toothy grin. “Maybe if they’re chewing on his lousy carcass, they won’t bother with the rest of us.”

The man nodded slowly, unsure if Simon actually meant what he’d said. “Yeah, sure. Okay, boss.” He backed away slowly and looked around the compound for one of Simon’s lieutenants. Surely there was somebody that could make a rational decision.

He spotted Savage’s trailer and sighed. He glanced back at Simon who was barely hanging onto the rear of the truck. He suddenly bent over and his back lurched. The man could only assume he was throwing up.

He backed away slowly and worked toward Savage’s trailer. He approached with caution and knocked lightly on the door. When there was no answer, he pounded harder.

“Who the hell is it?”

The man jumped at Savage’s grumbling voice. “It’s Jerry.” The man stepped back as the door was flung open.

“Who?” Savage stared at him with more than a degree of anger and frustration in his eyes. He had a thin blanket wrapped around his middle and Jerry saw the tiny woman suddenly appear behind him, playfully tugging at the wrap and giggling to herself.

“I, uh…I’m Jerry.” He almost seemed embarrassed. “Simon hasn’t changed my name yet.”

“So, what the fuck do you want?”

Jerry hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Dude, I just found Scar. He’s dead and I—”

“So report it to Simon. I’m busy!” Savage reached for the door and Jerry had the audacity to catch it first.

“I tried, sir. I really, really tried. But Simon is so drunk that he’s…” He shook his head at the mental image of the man staggering around and peeing on himself. “He’s literally piss-drunk.”

Savage sighed and stared down at the much smaller man. “Fine. What do you want me to do about it?”

Jerry’s eyes widened. “He’s dead.” He glanced from side to side. “Does that not mean anything to anybody anymore?”

Savage yawned then scratched himself, bouncing the business end of his happy stick practically in Jerry’s face. “People die.” He dropped the blanket and stepped down from the RV doorway. Jerry suddenly found something very interesting to stare at on the ground. “Look around you, Jerry. This is the new world. The new reality. Heaven is a heartbeat away and people are just dying to get there.” He smiled broadly at the smaller, balding man.

Savage stepped closer to Jerry and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, feeling him suddenly stiffen. He knew he was making the situation as awkward as it could be. “Why don’t you go and gather up a few more of the unnamed ones, drag Scar’s lazy ass out to the edge of the compound and leave him for the buzzards?”

Jerry swallowed hard and nodded vigorously. “That’s pretty much what Simon said, too.”

Savage slapped the man’s back and pushed him away. “I’m sure Simon will have a completely different line of thinking once he’s sobered up a bit.” He stepped back onto the steps of the RV and reached for the door. He paused for a moment and scratched at his bearded chin. “That’s assuming he does sober up.” He shrugged and pulled the door shut behind him.

Jerry walked away on shaky legs, his mind still unable to fathom that nobody cared that one of their sentries was just found dead. What was the sense of having a sentry if no one cared when weird shit happened.

Savage peered through the curtained window as the man wandered away. “What’s wrong, baby?”

He held a hand up to stave off her questions. “Once Simon sobers up, there’s gonna be hell to pay.”

Stella slid in next to him and gripped his arm. “What do you mean?”

He dropped the curtain and stood tall. “He’ll know there are survivors in this town.” He paced the short trailer, his mind spinning.

“I don’t get it.” She stepped in front of him, her eyes searching his. “What do you mean? Why would he care?”

Savage inhaled deeply and blew it out slowly. “If Scar had been torn up and eaten, he’d just count him off as being attacked by a rogue rager. But to just show up dead? While on guard duty?”

She shook her head slowly, not understanding.

“He’ll know that not only are there human survivors here, but they showed up at the camp and got close enough to kill one of his guards.”

Her eyes widened as she considered what he meant. “This has to deal with the whole settle down thing, doesn’t it?”

Savage nodded. “Yup.” He stared out of the kitchen window, his mind still playing out the possibilities. “Fucking Squirrel—”

“There’s squirrels?” Stella slid in next to him and scanned outside.

“No, baby. No squirrels.” He stood and reached for his pants. “Just a rat that I need to deal with.”

The CDO entered Colonel Vickers’ office and quietly shut the door. Vickers looked up from his paperwork, then checked his watch. “You’re early.”

The CDO stood at attention in front of Vickers’ desk. He handed the man a communique. Vickers skimmed it, then fell back into his seat. “Is this confirmed?”

The CDO nodded. “Yes, sir. Captain Hollis did not survive the mission at Fort Collins.”

Vickers wiped a roughened hand across his face and stared away. He stood on shaky legs and reached for the scotch on the wet bar. “Care to join me, lieutenant?”

“Thank you, sir. Don’t mind if I do.” The CDO stood at parade rest and reached for the glass when it was offered.

“Do we know how it happened?”

The CDO took a pull from the drink and nodded. “Preliminary report states he stayed behind to hold off an advancing force of Zeds, sir. He never exited the building.”

Vickers nodded and took a drink from his own. The two stood in silence for a moment, remembering the man they knew to be both annoying yet capable. Vickers tossed back the rest of his drink, then reached for the bottle. “Top it off?”

The CDO shook his head. “One and done, sir.”

Vickers held his glass out. “Then, to Captain Hollis.”

“To Captain Hollis.” He clinked his glass to the colonel’s, then threw back what was left of his drink. He placed the glass down gingerly on the corner of the wet bar and turned for the door. He paused a moment, the door in his hand. “Also, the pilots report that Hollis tasked Daniel Hatcher with returning the sample to the fleet. Apparently, he’s quite excited to see you again, sir.”

Roger tossed on the worn-out mattress and tried to sleep. His body was exhausted, but his mind wouldn’t shut down. He tried sleeping with a blanket. Too hot. He kicked it off and tried to sleep without one. Too cold. He tried covering half of his body and the covered half broke into a sweat, the uncovered half shivered.

He finally turned over and stared at the ceiling. The murmur of voices and work going on in the warehouse carried past the stacks of boxes and supplies that made up the grand majority of his walls, but it wasn’t the noise or activity going on around him that kept his mind from resting.

It was the look that Candy had on her face as she walked away.

Before the incident, he was a fellow peace officer. He was a kindred spirit. He was a possible love interest and partner for the apocalypse.

Now, he was a murderer.

He didn’t kill because his life was in direct physical danger. He didn’t kill to immediately protect another. He didn’t kill because of a ruthless attack. No, he killed another person to keep them quiet.

True, they could have ruined their plans and possibly, indirectly, brought the vengeance of Simon and his gang down upon the innocent people trying to eke out a survival in this rusty warehouse. But the man could have just as easily kept his mouth shut, kept Roger’s trust, and perhaps eventually become a contributing member of this quiet little society.

Roger sighed and propped his hands behind his head. He continued to stare at the bare metal roof above him and wished he could just disappear. Perhaps if he could vanish, Candy wouldn’t have to worry about having a killer under her roof.

He rolled to his side and pulled the photo of his wife out from the cranny where he had hidden it. He brushed his thumb along the edge of her face and tried to remember the last time he had seen her. He remembered trying to convince her it would all blow over. They could ride it out and once the dust settled, they could start over. He’d take the lieutenant’s test and ride a desk until retirement. They could finally start a family.

He felt something wet and warm slide down his cheek and he wiped at his face.

When was the last time he’d cried? He sniffed back the tears and shoved her photo into his shirt pocket. He threw the blanket off and sat on the edge of the mattress. He forced himself to think of anything but those he’d hurt or brought pain to.

As he sat alone in his room, he tried, in vain, to remember anybody from his past that he hadn’t hurt in some way.

He couldn’t.

Roger stood and pulled his leather riding jacket from the hook on the wall and pulled his riding boots back on. He’d live with the flannel until he could find something else. He pulled his sunglasses from the inside pocket of his jacket and headed to the front staging area.

He nodded to the guards as he slipped out of the chain link gate and slipped across the street and between the buildings, disappearing into the shadows of the large metal structures.

Roger emerged on the other side and turned toward the main street. He couldn’t hope to find an Indian dealership, but he would search and find another motorcycle, turn the son of a bitch west and not stop until he was staring at ocean. The days of fantasizing about breaking away were over.

Today was the first day of the rest of his life.

Chapter 16

The aircraft was silent save for the deafening chop of the blades and whir of the engines. Each person aboard seemed lost in their own thoughts as each coped with the loss of Captain Hollis.

Hatcher nearly jumped when the pilot came across his headphones. “Mister Hatcher, command states we’re to drop you off at your desired location prior to returning to the fleet.”

Hatcher smiled to himself. He assumed his message to Colonel Vickers was received. “Captain Hollis wanted me to personally return the sample to the labs.”

“That’s understood, sir, but unless you want to make the fleet your new home, my orders are to drop you off first. They said something about wasting fuel, sir.”

Hatcher had to admit it made little sense to backtrack that far just so he could hand-deliver the case. “Understood. You have the coordinates for my compound?”

“Affirmative, sir. We’ve charted the quickest route. We can have you home in a few hours.”

“Thank you.” Hatcher leaned back, his hand brushing the aluminum case. He lifted it to his lap and turned to LaRue who was watching him like a hawk. “I guess this is yours now.” He handed the case over and she behaved as though it were the Holy Grail.

“Thank you, Mr. Hatcher.” Her smile slowly spread as she ran her hands along the surface. “This will definitely go a long way towards a cure.”

Hatcher eyed her cautiously. “Just don’t forget where we are. Once you have that cure, my people would like to get inoculated.”

She glanced up at him, her smile fading. “Oh, we have an inoculation.” She shrugged slightly, “I mean, it hasn’t been vetted yet. Not completely, but it looks promising.”

“From Bren?”

Dr. LaRue cocked her head to the side while she tried to piece together his meaning. Suddenly her eyes widened. “Oh! You mean the girl? No.” She returned her attention to the case and gingerly set it between her feet.

“So Bren wasn’t actually immune or was her blood not good to use—”

“No, we were able to extract what was needed from her blood, but it wasn’t to create a vaccine. We used it in a makeshift treatment for those already infected.”

Hatcher’s eyes grew wide. “So, you already have a treatment for the Zulus?”

She shook her head. “If we could capture each one and place them in an isolation ward and spend hundreds of man hours for one on one treatment plans, then yes. But we have to find a treatment that can be blanketed across a wide area. We need a one and done approach that can cure the most people with the least amount of risk.”

“You need a silver bullet.” Hatcher’s voice was deadpan and nearly hopeless.

She considered his words and nodded slightly. “That’s one way of putting it.” She scooted forward on her seat, her eyes probing his. “We need a vector, whether biological or environmental that can affect the biggest portion of the infected. We’re looking at reverse engineering the virus itself and changing its DNA so that it will basically undo what the original virus did.” She gave him a soft smile. “While that sounds doable, it really isn’t. That’s why we are experimenting with other delivery systems. We’re considering airborne, but even that is less likely to reach all of the infected. Perhaps water…” She seemed to lose herself in thought as other possibilities entered her mind.

Hatcher sighed heavily and leaned back in the seat. He turned to Buck. “Doesn’t sound promising, does it?”

Buck shrugged, his eyes staring out the window. “I suppose it beats no hope at all.”

Savage pulled his boots on while Stella watched him. “Are you sure it was them?”

He looked up at her as he tugged at the leather laces. “Who else could it have been?” He hooked his chin toward the window. “If it had been ragers, they would have left nothing but a few bones.”

She sat back and stared into space. “I thought they were supposed to be the good guys?” She turned red-rimmed eyes at him. “Remember the whole settle down thing?”

He nodded, his mouth drawn into a tight line as he finished lacing the boots. “I know what I said.” He stood suddenly and took a deep breath. “I just can’t believe I was fool enough to have believed that bullshit Roger spewed.”

“Who’s Roger?”

Savage waved her off as he reached for the black t-shirt and pulled it over his head. “I fell for it all, hook, line, and sinker.”

She stood and reached for his hand. He paused, his eyes scanning her still nude form. “What if it wasn’t them?” She pointed out the window. “This is a pretty big town. There could be other survivors camped out here.”

He sighed heavily and pulled her to him. “I’d like to think it was. But he told me about a grocery store that hadn’t been plucked clean yet. If there were other survivors in this area, they’d have hit it.”

She shook her head and pulled from him. “Not if they’re in a different neighborhood.” She searched his eyes, praying that her chance to settle down hadn’t been taken away before it ever started. “We can’t know who is where or…or…”

He pulled her close again and hugged her. “Alright. I’ll wait to flatten them all until I know for sure.” He looked down at the top of her head. “Better?”

She nodded sadly and pulled him down for a kiss. “Better.”

As much as it pained him to leave her, he stepped around her and marched to the door. He paused and looked back at her. “Stay just like that. I plan to finish what we started.” The sly grin he shot her made her smile. She looked back and he was shutting the door.

She heard the Harley fire up before he pulled away from the trailer they called home. She watched as he drove off the curb and pulled away from the park.

Savage relished the wind in his face again, but his anger didn’t allow him to enjoy it. He knew who was to blame for the sentry’s death. He could feel it in his gut. He just couldn’t figure out why Roger would come back only to kill one of their guys and then vanish again.

He drove quickly until he came to the block with the trap. He approached slowly, his engine revving, the loud exhaust echoing off the surrounding buildings. This is how he was supposed to let Roger know they needed to meet.

Actually, it was supposed to be his way of letting Roger know that Simon was dead, but considering the circumstances, it was the only way he had to contact him.

He pulled to a stop just short of where the ragers had appeared before. If they were anywhere close, they’d know he was a sitting duck. He could almost feel their eyes on him as he shut off the engine and pulled his sunglasses from his face.

“Where are you, you squirrely son of a bitch?”

Carol checked the IV drip attached to Charles’ arm and scribbled in his chart. She glanced up at the man who glared at her, his jaw tight and quivering. She laid the chart down and gave him a tight-lipped smile. “I take it that the aggressive impulses are still high?”

“I know better than to tell you what I think. You’ll just sedate me again you little—” He caught himself before he could utter the curse. His eyes never stopped boring a hole in her head as she stepped around him and noted his vitals.

“Your blood pressure is still elevated and your heart rate is…high.” She scribbled the numbers in his chart and marked the time.

“Yeah. I have eyes. I can see what they are.”

She paused and clicked her pen closed. She turned and studied him as she tucked it into her lab coat pocket. “So, you have the cognizance to realize your vitals are all off, but do you have the ability to discern proper behavior from improper?” She glanced at the mess he had made previously and shook her head. “I’m thinking no.”

“Fuck you and your proper behavior!” He tugged at the straps holding him and winced, his eyes squeezing shut as he seemed to force himself to calm down.

“Headaches?”

He nodded slowly. “They spike with each burst of anger and…it just keeps feeding into a continuous loop. The pain just makes me more angry, and the anger causes more pain.” He opened his eyes and pleaded with her. “Make it stop. Please.”

She hesitated for a moment, then reached into a cabinet. “I shouldn’t do this, but I’m going to make you a cocktail of topiramate, amitriptyline, and propranolol. If it’s anything like a classic migraine, this should knock it right out.”

He relaxed and watched as she drew small amounts from each vial. “Thank you.”

“My mother suffered from migraines. If this is what I’m thinking, then I can understand how it could feed the aggression.”

He shook his head slowly. “I don’t think I’d say that it feeds the aggression, more like the aggression feeds it.” He sighed and rolled his head back on the pillow. “I can’t put it into words.”

She injected the cocktail into his IV and stepped back. “I’ll check on you in a bit. You can let me know if it helps.”

He nodded, and his eyes pinched shut as he tried to keep himself calm. She quickly charted his doses and slipped out of the room, turning off the lights as she exited.

She looked up and saw the CDO standing beside her workstation. “I just thought I’d check on Dr. Carpenter.”

Carol sighed and lowered her voice as she approached him. “His angry outbursts are increasing despite the treatment. I’m trying something different this time.”

He looked at her questioningly. “What are you trying?”

“I’m treating the symptoms, not the disease.” She turned him to face the acrylic wall that separated them from the Zed specimens. “You see how docile they are? That’s because of the sonic generator. If we turn it off, they go into a rage and, well, it isn’t pretty.”

The CDO nodded. “I’ve heard. I’ve not seen it personally, but I’ve read the reports.”

She gave him a confused look. “You haven’t seen how enraged the infected are?”

He shook his head. “I was at sea when all of this went down. Luckily, we avoided the fallout areas.”

“Understood.” She pulled him closer to the glass. “Without the generator, they would attack and probably eat anything or anybody that entered that holding cell.”

“But not each other?”

She shrugged. “I can’t say about in the wild, but here? No.”

“So, you’re treating Dr. Carpenter with the sonic generator?”

She shook her head. “His outbursts aren’t as extreme as these subjects. I want to save the generator for when nothing else could possibly work.”

“So what? Tylenol?”

She shook her head. “Migraine medications. I just gave him a cocktail of three different drugs. An antidepressant, a beta-blocker, and an anticonvulsant. They’re all three commonly used to help with migraines.”

The CDO nodded, pretending to understand. “Well, let me know if it helps him. I’ll report it up the chain.” He turned to leave and she walked with him to the door. “They’re pretty worried about him. They specifically asked me to keep them up on his condition.”

“That’s sweet of them.” She patted his arm.

He wanted to correct her and explain that it was more about self-preservation, but he simply gave her a smile and left.

He pulled his pocket notebook and jotted down what she had told him. He wanted to make sure he had it right when he informed Vickers.

Roger darted from house to house, yard to yard, using anything he could find as cover. The few cars that he found with keys in them had dead batteries. He considered trying to break into a few houses to see if he could find the keys to whatever was parked out front, but decided the risk outweighed the probability of success.

He stopped near another stucco house with red tiles on the roof. He took a moment and actually looked at the house. It could have been an impressive home, if it didn’t look like every other house on the block. He stood at the porch and enjoyed the shade. He was actually thankful it was fall and not summer. The temperatures would have been unbearable if it had been July or August.

He glanced around the neighborhood and actually felt his heart skip a beat when he saw a Harley Davidson sign in a lower floor window. He slowly came to his knees and stared at the sign.

“What are the odds?” He stepped out from cover and crossed the street. As he reached for the front doorknob he had a sudden realization that caused his heart to sink. How many kids have posters and signs of Harleys, Mustangs, Ferrari’s, etc? That doesn’t mean they actually OWN one.

He twisted the knob and pushed the door open slightly. No stench of death wafted out to greet him. He pushed the door open and gingerly stepped inside. He sniffed the air and caught no odors that would cause him to immediately wonder if somebody lived here. He ran his finger across the end table in the living room and pulled back a nice layer of dust.

“At least a month’s worth.” He glanced into the dining room. “At least, if I had to guess.”

He walked slowly across the tiled floor and welcomed the darkened coolness of the house. He stopped in the kitchen and wasn’t surprised that the cabinets all stood open, boxes and cans scattered about. “Looks like the kitchen is closed.” He pushed past the debris and opened the door to the garage. A wall of warmth hit him as well as the welcome smell of gasoline, potting soil, and fertilizer.

His line of sight was blocked by a large black SUV, but he quickly worked around it. He stood in silence and stared at the magnificent machine parked on the other side.

A burnt silver Harley Davidson Fatboy with leather saddle bags and a clear windscreen. He threw a leg over the bike and sat on the seat. “Ooh…that’s nice.” He stepped from the bike and saw the Saddleman logo on the seat. “Nothing like comfort gel.” He smiled to himself, then realized he had to find the key.

He rummaged through the garage and came up empty. He worked his way back through the kitchen and into the bedrooms. Rifling through all of the drawers, he, again, came up with nothing. The entire time he destroyed the place looking for a key, the same thought ran through his mind, They’re probably in some asshole’s pants pocket and he’s out there right now, a rager, chasing cats and eating anything that looks like a manwich.

He pulled the drawers out on a small jewelry box and threw the thing across the room when it didn’t give up the prize. Roger plopped down on the bed and stared at the mess he’d made. “It’s got to be around here, somewhere.” He slowly stood and paced the master bedroom. “Where would I stash a spare key?”

His eyes fell on the closet door. He pulled it open and saw row after row of suits, sports coats, slacks, fine linen shirts, ties…the other side held the equivalent in women’s wear. “What the fuck? Was this guy an accountant?” He held the suit at arm’s length, then dropped it unceremoniously onto the floor.

“Okay, fine. Where would an accountant hide a spare key?” He pulled boxes of Italian loafers from the top shelves and dumped them. For the most part, he ignored the hers side of the closet. No self-respecting man would hide a spare key in his wife’s things. He paused and tried to imagine his life as a doctor, accountant, or lawyer…no. He still wouldn’t hide a spare key there.

He stepped out of the closet feeling more than just dejected. He wanted to break something. He inhaled deeply to scream, then thought better of it. It was even more frustrating that he couldn’t vent his anger.

He marched out of the room, intent on figuring out a way to hotwire the damned thing when something caught his eye. He stopped and backed up.

Hanging on the wall between the living room and the dining room was a small wooden placard with the word KEYS across the top. He stepped toward it, his eyes focusing on the single ring with a short, stubby key on it.

He smiled to himself as he reached out and pulled it gently from the little brass hook. “Bingo.”

Roger rummaged through the rest of the house. He found a small camouflaged backpack and shoved what he thought he could use inside of it. Underwear, socks, food stuff, and a cheap survival knife. Too bad Mr. Accountant wasn’t a gun nut. He’d feel a lot better if he had something that went bang tucked into his waistband.

Roger dropped the backpack into the saddle bag and disconnected the garage door from the opener. He lifted the door and stared out into the New Mexico afternoon.

“California, here I come.”

Chapter 17

Hatcher was deep in thought when Buck’s voice came across the static-filled headphones. “So, Skeeter is okay?”

Hatcher saw a glimpse of something painted across the young man’s face he couldn’t quite place just before Buck’s features returned to silent stoicism. He gave him a brief nod. “Yeah. She’s ornery as ever.”

Buck sat back, a satisfied smile forming. “I figured she’d be a handful.”

Hatcher snorted. “She stowed away on our mission to find the CDC.” He shook his head as he remembered how angry she had made him. “I was ready to wring her neck.”

Buck gave him a confused look. “The CDC?”

“We had a young couple show up at the warehouse that we’ve converted into a home of sorts. The girl had a healed scratch on her shoulder that came from a Zulu.”

Buck’s eyes widened. “Healed?”

Hatcher nodded. “We assumed she was somehow immune. We went in search of the closest CDC that we knew of. That would be where we just left. Obviously, they weren’t open for business.”

“Skeeter stowed away all the way to Colorado?”

“No, no…we didn’t get very far before we were set upon by this band of motorcycle-riding marauders. Nasty bunch that tried to force us off the road.”

Buck seemed more than concerned. He leaned toward Hatcher, his eyes probing the man. “So what happened? She wasn’t hurt, was she?”

Hatcher gave him a reassuring smile. “No. She’s fine.” He pointed to the front of the craft. “A chopper very much like this one appeared out of nowhere and pulled our fat from the fire.”

“What about the marauders?”

Hatcher pointed forward. “These things carry big guns, kid. No hillbilly on a Harley wants to face down a gunship.” Hatcher’s face twisted and he turned to LaRue. “Hey, doc? What about Jason and Bren? Will they be sent back to us or will you be keeping them for a while?”

Dr. LaRue’s head bobbed up and she stared at Hatcher blankly. She nodded slowly as if coming out of a daze or deep thought. “Oh, the young couple…no. We don’t need them any longer. You can have him back if you want.”

“Him? Will you be keeping the girl, because I don’t think Jason would leave her—”

“The girl died.” LaRue’s voice was void of concern. “She contracted a virus we couldn’t identify, and she passed just prior to my leaving for this operation.”

Hatcher didn’t realize his mouth was open until he tried to speak again. “She’s dead?”

Dr. LaRue nodded. “Yes. It was actually quite sudden.”

Hatcher leaned back and stared into the distance. “I’m sorry, but I would think you would lead with that kind of information.” His eyes bored holes into her, but Vivian was oblivious.

“Why? Was she somebody to you?”

Hatcher ground his teeth and spoke through clenched jaws. “She was my friend. I promised her she would be safe.”

“Oh, yes. And she was. Right up until she contracted whatever it was that killed her. She was perfectly safe.” She waved at him dismissively. “Unless you count that idiot boyfriend of hers. Talk about a waste of space—”

“Come again?” Hatcher leaned forward, his attention completely on LaRue. “What about her boyfriend.”

Dr. LaRue huffed and leaned back in her seat. “The man is a complete and total idiot. He spent more time worrying about whether he might get sick being with her than worrying anything might happen to her. Then, when she did get sick, he acted as though he were relieved.” She shook her head in disbelief. “I was actually surprised he got upset when I told him of her passing.”

Hatcher felt like he’d been punched in the gut. In the safest place imaginable, the girl with the million-dollar immune system dies under the watch of the very same researchers trying to cure the world.

He got her attention again. “You’re saying there was nothing that could be done to save her?”

She gave him the same duh look that Vicky often shot at him. “Of course, there was nothing left untried. We pumped her full of antivirals and antibiotics. There really was nothing else we could do.” She clutched the handle of the aluminum case and gave him a tight-lipped stare. “All we could do was exsanguinate her before her blood coagulated.”

Hatcher found himself with his mouth standing open again.

Simon rolled over and stared at the sky through the canopy of the dying tree. What little shade it provided wasn’t enough to keep the sun from blinding him. He held his hand up to block the rays from burning holes into his eyes and tried to get his feet underneath him.

He found hands grabbing him and lifting him up. He was propped against the bed of the pickup he had puked on and he grabbed the tailgate to try to keep the world from spinning.

“The fuck?” He spun quickly and swung out at the hands holding him up. “Leave me alone.”

“Boss, we got a problem.”

Simon stared at the man speaking, but his drunken mind couldn’t put a name with the face. “Spill it!” He bent over and sucked in air, the ground swirling in front of him.

“Savage split, boss. He just took off.”

Simon stared at him and shook his head. “So?”

“So? You said we was on lockdown.” The man pleaded and realized that Simon couldn’t remember his own orders. “When the guard got kilt?”

“What gurard?”

“Scar, boss!” The man stepped forward and Simon’s eyes lost focus. “You can’t be that drunk.”

“I can be as drunk as I want.” Simon swung at him again causing him to step back. “I’m the king.” He exhaled hard and fell onto his backside behind the truck.

“What do we do about Savage, boss?”

“Fuck him.” His head bobbed as he tried to keep awake.

One of Simon’s regular whores stepped forward and pushed the men back. “Somebody brew some coffee. Find where his bottle is and hide it.” She snapped her fingers at the men. “Chop, chop! Let’s get moving. We gotta get him back on his feet before he can make any command decisions.”

Simon looked up at her and smiled. His hand instinctively reached for her chest and she allowed him a grope as she lifted him from the ground. “Come on, asshole. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“That’s King Asshole to you, wench.” Simon laughed at himself while the small crowd around him dispersed.

“What do we do about Savage?”

She turned and stared at the man. “Didn’t you hear me? We get him dried out and let him make the decision.” She hefted Simon up higher and got another grip around his waist. “Unless you feel like chasing after that walking mountain and trying to force him back here?”

The man’s face paled and he quickly shook his head. “Nah, I think I’ll wait for Simon.”

“Imagine that.” She turned and practically dragged Simon back to his tent.

“Are we going to do it?” Simon asked, a smirk painted across his features.

“I think you’ve done enough already.” She dropped him unceremoniously on the floor of his tent. She leaned backward and stretched her back and shoulders. “You’re heavier than I remember.”

He rolled over and gave her another smirk. “I’ve done enough? Was I good?”

She sighed as she bent over and tucked his willie back into his jeans. “You were the best, baby.” She gave him a wink before she stood.

“That’s King Baby.” He yawned and rolled to his side.

“You got a few minutes to sleep, King Baby. Then it’s all the hot coffee I can pour down ya.”

She sat on the edge of his cot and stared at the pile of crap they all called a leader. She silently wished that somebody with more than two brain cells would step up and dethrone the king.

Carol looked in and found Dr. Carpenter sleeping. She glanced at his vitals and nodded. It appeared as though the cocktail she had injected him with was doing the trick. At least he was able to get some rest.

She gently closed the door and returned to her workstation. She had just sat when an orderly approached. “Word is that Dr. LaRue is on her way back.” He gave her a knowing smile. “She has the primordial sample.”

Carol exhaled hard and leaned on the counter. “Thank god.”

The orderly nudged her. “I thought you were an atheist?”

“Agnostic. And it’s just a phrase.” She pushed away from the counter and picked up the running report she’d maintained on Dr. Carpenter. “Do me a favor and have another researcher go through my notes. Have them make sure I’ve chronicled everything we’ve attempted with Dr. Carpenter. When she gets back she’s going to want details.”

The orderly nodded and picked up the file. “You think this original sample is going to do the trick?”

“I certainly hope so.” She turned and glanced at the clock. “When is she due?”

He shrugged. “I just heard that they’re on their way back.” He turned for the door, then paused. “They had to make some kind of detour to drop somebody off…oh, and that military guy that nobody liked? He didn’t make it.”

Carol felt as if she’d been gut-checked. She slowly turned to him. “You mean Captain Hollis?”

The orderly nodded. “Yeah, I think that was his name. The tall guy that wanted to help out, but Dr. LaRue said was dumb as a box of rocks. It was him.”

Carol sat down gingerly. She could see his brilliant smile. The blue of his eyes. The way he always carried himself so confidently. She had to swallow the lump that had risen into her throat.

“Anything else, doc?”

She turned to the orderly and shook her head, her ears not really hearing him. “I’m fine, thank you.” She waved him off as visions of Captain Hollis bounced through her mind.

She remembered the times he’d tried to make small talk. The times he sat with her on the mess decks during meals. She remembered how he seemed to almost flirt with her and she had dismissed him…because Dr. LaRue had commented he was so desperate to be in the lab that he’d resort to using any excuse he could think of to worm his way in.

Was she right? Or had he really been interested in her? She turned and looked at her reflection in the cover of the culture warmer.

Could he have really been interested?

She’d never know now. The man was dead or missing in action. She sat back in her seat and tried to focus, but images of him smiling at her overtook her thoughts.

Carol glanced around the lab and realized, there weren’t exactly a lot of dating options left these days. Not that she’d really have time for such matters, but now that option was removed. And for what? Because she’d feared what Dr. LaRue might think?

Carol forced herself up from the chair and walked from experiment to experiment, going through the motions of checking each one and charting their progress. The entire time, though, her mind was on the handsome captain she’d never see again.

“Life is too short…”

Roger leaned into the curve and hit the accelerator on the Harley. He rode the machine to the top of the crest, then hit the brakes. He slowed the machine and glanced down the road leading to the trap that now held his beloved Indian.

Although the FatBoy was a decent riding machine, his Indian was his. He had raced to the dealership to put his money down on the thing before they were even available for sale. He’d loved that bike. He couldn’t be held accountable for wanting one last look at its final resting place.

He didn’t expect to see Mike standing beside his own bike and waiting.

Roger locked up the brakes on the Harley and stared at the big man at the end of the street. He watched as Mike slowly turned and crossed his arms over his massive chest. He looked like he wasn’t happy.

Roger looked straight ahead and felt the pull to continue. Just hit the accelerator and leave. He glanced down the street again and saw Mike. He was almost certain that if he could make out his facial features, the man would have a What the hell? look on his face.

Roger sighed and turned the handlebars. He drove the bike slowly, his eyes searching for either the ragers or other bikers who might be lying in wait.

When he got close enough he could make out Mike’s features, he didn’t feel triumphant that he had guessed the other man’s mindset. He obviously wasn’t happy. He slowed the bike and killed the engine, coasting to a stop.

Roger pulled his sunglasses off and leaned across the triple-tree of the bike. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” Mike seemed to grow larger as he spoke. “Tell me you didn’t just go by the camp and kill a man, then ask me What’s up? when I see you?”

Roger leaned back and tried not to show emotion. “What if I did?”

“Are you fucking nuts? You think Simon won’t put two and two together once he sobers up?” Mike stepped forward and Roger’s hand slipped to his jacket before he realized, he didn’t have his gun.

“I needed to know that you were with us.” He averted his eyes and shook his head. “I needed to know that you weren’t rallying the troops to come and overrun us.”

“So you killed a guy?”

“He spotted me.” Roger sat up straight and crossed his own arms. “I couldn’t risk him ratting me out to Simon.”

“So, you killed him. One of our own?” Mike marched slowly toward the smaller man. “What was all that crap about each of us having a place? Each of us making a new start?”

“I told you, I couldn’t risk him telling Simon that he’d seen me. I’m supposed to be dead, remember?”

Mike nodded slowly. “Yeah. I remember.” He cracked his knuckles as he reached the bike. “Give me one reason not to knock your god-damned head off.”

Roger sighed and shook his head. “I can’t, man.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “If it’s any consolation, I was just leaving.” He leaned forward, his eyes suddenly hopeful. “Why don’t you come with me? Grab your gal, pack some shit, and we’ll just take off. We can make a run for the coast.”

Mike shook his head. “It was all bullshit, wasn’t it?”

Roger’s face couldn’t hide his confusion. “Huh?”

“It was all bullshit. The whole story. You’re like a used car salesman. ‘Rally the troops, get rid of Simon, move into Utopia, and we can rebuild humanity’…it was all just so much shit to you, wasn’t it?”

Roger shook his head. “No. I meant it.” He turned and pointed back toward the warehouse. “They’re right down there. With enough supplies to give you a hell of a start.” He leaned back again and shook his head. “I just can’t be a part of it.”

“Why not?” Mike asked.

“Because. I just can’t.” Roger reached out and twisted the key on the bike, turning on the ignition. His finger hovered over the starter button. “I ruined things for me there.”

Mike reached out and twisted the key to the OFF position. “Talk.”

Roger stared away and sighed heavily. “Because I killed the sentry.”

“His name was Scar.”

Roger snapped back to him. “Just like yours is Savage? Or my name is Squirrel?” He pushed away and slid off themotorcycle, facing Mike. “Simon gave us those names. I couldn’t tell you who the fuck Scar is. Do you even know his real name?”

Mike stiffened as he stared down at Roger. He shook his head slowly.

“No? Yeah, I didn’t think so.” He began to pace, his arms flailing wildly as he spoke. “We don’t know who anybody is because of Simon. Simon says do this and we fucking do this. Simon says do that and we all jump to do that.” He spun and pointed a finger in Mike’s face. “Who the hell is he, anyway? What gives him the right to change who we are just so he can remember the names he gives us?”

“He’s the leader.”

“The hell he is!” Roger was breathing hard, half-expecting the sledgehammer-like fist of Mike’s to cave his skull in at any moment. “The only reason he’s in charge is because we’ve let him. And you were supposed to remove him from the equation so the rest of the gang could finally settle down and try to make something…something…GOOD.”

Mike crossed his arms again and stared at him while he vented. “Are you done?”

“No!” Roger stepped back and pointed toward the camp. “That son of a bitch won’t rest until he’s plundered and pillaged his way across the state and eventually the whole country. Anybody who does try to establish some semblance of civility will be overrun by him. He won’t stop until he’s sucked every last resource from those who have managed to survive, and he’ll kill the souls of anybody who travels with him.”

“I don’t disagree.” Mike finally stepped back and wiped the sweat from his brow. “You’re right.”

“I know I’m right. That’s why you were going to stop him.”

Mike nodded. “But I don’t want them looking to me to be the leader.” His voice was barely a whisper as he spoke. “I’m not the leader type.”

“You don’t have to be.” Roger stepped forward and pointed toward the warehouse. “Candy’s there. She’s a leader. She’s holding the fort while this Danny guy is out saving the world. If she’s any indication, then he’s got to be one hell of a leader.”

Mike sighed heavily and rolled his head around, cracking his neck. “And you’re certain? This is a good thing they got going on?”

“Of course I am.” Roger placed a hand on the big man’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t have told you about them if I wasn’t”

Mike turned to him. “Then why are you leaving?”

Chapter 18

Hatcher sat in silence and tried not to glare at LaRue. He had entrusted those two civilians with her and the girl was dead. Drained like a half-empty wine bottle so that Dr. Frankenstein could finish her gory experiments.

The more Hatcher allowed the situation to strike home, the harder he ground his teeth. He nearly jumped when Buck placed a gentle hand on his own. He gave him a knowing look and Hatcher visibly relaxed. He shook his head at the young man slightly and nodded toward Dr. LaRue. He carefully mouthed the word “evil” and shook his head.

Buck gave him a knowing nod and Hatcher turned his hooded gaze toward the window of the chopper. He suddenly sat up and leaned closer to the glass. He tapped Buck and pointed. “Home is that way.”

Buck turned and stared out the window. Row after row of cookie-cutter houses zipped past below, their bright stucco exteriors highlighted with the red-clay roofs.

Hatcher gave the boy a lopsided grin. “We’re minutes away from Skeeter, kid. You think you’re ready?”

Buck gave him a toothy grin and Hatcher felt like it was the first time he’d seen the youth smile since they had reunited. “I can’t wait.”

Hatcher nudged him. “Maybe you can keep her out of trouble.”

Buck gave him a strange look. “Like she’d actually listen to me.”

“We’re five minutes out, Mister Hatcher. Do you have a preferred landing zone?”

Hatcher turned and faced the cockpit. Neither of the two pilots from the front were looking at him as they spoke over the coms. Hatcher wasn’t sure how to address him properly, but simply stated, “The roof held the last time you boys landed a chopper there. I suppose it should hold this one as well.”

“Copy that. Do you have a frequency that we can call ahead? I’d hate to take small arms fire as we approached.”

Hatcher smiled knowingly. “I’m sure they’re already aware of your approach. But to answer your question, they’re using two-way radios. I have no idea, though, the frequency they’re broadcasting on.”

“Roger that, ranger. We’ll keep it on the deck and make a slow approach.”

Hatcher leaned back in his seat and breathed a sigh of relief. This ordeal was almost over, and he could be back with his family once more. Then all they had to worry about was keeping the Zulus at bay. And finding food. And fending off groups of marauders like the motorcycle gang.

He glanced around the transport once more and quietly wondered how many trips the pilots would have to make to take his people to their flotilla.

“As promised, Mister Hatcher, as soon as we have a silver bullet, your people will be the first settlement we contact.”

He turned and stared at Dr. LaRue, who seemed not to notice the daggers he shot at her with his eyes. He tried not to snarl as he spoke. “Just make sure you’ve fully vetted whatever treatment you come at us with.” He leaned closer to her and tried to punctuate the next line with his eyes. “Don’t make me come looking for you.”

She shot him a smile that seemed inappropriate and totally out of place considering she had just been threatened. “Not to worry, Mister Hatcher. We don’t experiment on healthy subjects.”

Healthy “subjects”? Hatcher opened his mouth to reply when the pilot walked over his communications. “We’re on approach. Air speed is below 20 knots if you want to open the door and let them see that it’s you.”

Hatcher gave a thumbs up and stepped toward the side door as one of the soldiers pulled it open. Hatcher felt the wind burst into the cabin and he squinted in order to peer out across the approaching buildings. He felt the craft shift and begin a nearly sideways approach to the warehouse.

The roof sentry was tracking them with the scope of his weapon and reached for his radio when he saw Hatcher in the open doorway of the chopper. His other arm shot straight up in a wave as the craft slowly slid across the sky and hovered just above the rooftop.

Hatcher waited until the wheels settled and bounded from the craft. One of the soldiers tossed him his pack, then Hatcher reached up into the hatchway to grab Buck’s hand. He steadied the young man as he jumped from the craft, then they both turned and gave a wave to the pilots who expertly lifted up and away from the building.

The sentries used their arms to cover their faces as dust, debris, and bits of sand shotgunned across the rooftop. Hatcher approached the closest sentry and reached for the man’s radio. As soon as the buffeting from the rotors had faded, he keyed the radio. “Candy, it’s Hatch. Grab Skeeter and meet me in the office. I’ve got a surprise for her.”

Candy’s voice sounded tinny as it came across the handheld radio. “Roger that, Hatch. It’s damned good to have you home.”

“You can say that again.” Hatcher handed the sentry back his radio and motioned for Buck to follow. “I think you’re going to like it here, kid.”

Simon belched again as the busty woman whose name he couldn’t remember shoved another cup of coffee in front of him. “Drink it.”

“Damn it, woman! I’m not a sponge.” He tried to push the cup away and she pushed it closer to his face.

“You need to drink it and sober up. Your people need you.”

He swallowed the bitter liquid and coughed when some went down the wrong pipe. “You’re choking me.” He coughed and spat, his hands swiping at her.

“This is not the time to be staggering around drunk with your pecker hanging out for the world to see. Save that for when your lieutenants are with you.”

“What difference does it make? They’ll do what I say whether I’m sober or not.”

She stood and glared at him. “The difference is you’ll actually know what to tell them when you’re sober. You’ll be coherent and have the ability to actually think before you shoot your mouth off.” She stepped closer and tilted his head back. “Now drink!”

Simon choked and spat as she poured the warm coffee into his mouth. If she hadn’t been one of his favorite whores, he would have beaten her down for such insolence. But as it was, she was making sense.

Simon suddenly sat upright and pushed her away. “What the hell is that?”

She looked at him as though he had been struck completely stupid. “What is what?”

“Shut up, dammit!” He pushed past her and erupted from the flap of his tent. He walked in slow circles, his eyes fixed to the sky. “Where is that coming from?”

“Where is what coming from?” she asked as she followed him with a fresh cup of coffee.

“That sound!” He stopped and held his breath. No, he wasn’t imagining it. He could hear it for sure. He glanced around the camp and noticed one by one, people turning their heads and peering into the sky. “They hear it, too!”

She stepped out past his dead campfire and strained to listen. She could just make out the chop-chop-chop of a helicopter on slow approach. “Yeah, I hear it, too.”

“Where the hell is it?” Simon jogged to the pickup he had puked on and climbed onto the rear of the bed. He climbed the side of the bed and stood on the cab. He slowly spun circles, his ears trying to pinpoint the sounds of the rotors slicing through the air.

“There it is!”

Simon spun and saw where the young woman pointed and followed her arm. He could just make out the silhouette of the craft as it flew in from the north. He watched as it slowly lowered itself in the sky and he felt a smile creep across his face.

“Son of a bitch, WE GOT HIM!” He jumped down from the cab of the truck and nearly fell when the suspension bounced. “You and you…,” he pointed to the two closest men, “get your asses moving and find out where the hell that chopper lands!”

He hopped from the back of the bed and marched to his tent. He paused at the entrance, then turned and raised his voice for all to hear. “Gear up and load up. We’re hunting the asshole that got away. And we’re gonna take what’s ours.” His face was nearly feral as he shot into the tent and was even more frightening when he reemerged, pulling his leather jacket on over the dual pistols strapped to his hips.

Simon stopped and grabbed the woman that insisted he sober up. He pulled her close and rewarded her with a wet, sloppy, coffee-flavored kiss. “You did good.” He swatted her rump as he marched past her and mounted his Harley. “You’ll get the rest of your reward when I get back.” He shot her a knowing smile, then hit the starter button on his iron horse.

She gave him a curt smile and a nod as he pulled away to where the others were staging. “Gee, I can hardly wait.” She dumped the coffee and tossed the cup toward his tent. “I wonder if he’d believe I had to wash my hair tonight?”

“How are the headaches?” Carol charted Dr. Carpenter’s vitals and noted they had almost approached normal.

He nodded weakly. “Much better, thanks.” He tried to sit up and was reminded he was still strapped down. “Are these really still necessary?”

She stopped writing and looked at him knowingly. “I’m sure you realize that they are.”

He sighed heavily. And slumped as much as he could while still being bound. “You have no idea how horrible it is to have an itch and not be able to scratch it.”

She suddenly perked. “I’d be happy to assist if you really—”

“I will not allow you to scratch my…private parts, thank you.” He could feel his cheeks flush and noted that Carol’s cheeks flushed as well.

“Yes, perhaps you’re right.” She cleared her throat nervously. “I could send in an orderly?”

He shot her a look that indicated clearly that her suggestion was not appreciated. “I’ll manage on my own, thank you.”

“Of course.” She clicked her pen and crossed her arms. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Dr. LaRue is on her way back. Word has it that she was successful in retrieving an original sample.”

Charles sighed and slumped even farther into the mattress, if that was possible. “She was impossible to live with before. There’s no way that—”

“What?”

“Never mind.” He turned and gave her a solemn look. “I’m assuming that the regimens you began haven’t been successful.”

She tried to bluff. “Why would you suggest that?”

“Because instead of improving, my condition worsened.” He nodded to the IV in his arm. “Hence the migraine cocktail you administered.”

She sighed and nodded. “You assume correctly.”

“Is it an issue with the reagent factors or—”

“I have no idea.” She cut him off before he could list the possible failings. “However, I’m certain that once Dr. LaRue is back she can look over my notes and find where I went wrong. I have no doubts that she’ll be able to undo whatever it is that I’ve done wrong.”

Charles rolled his eyes and turned away. “One more feather in her cap.”

“I’m sorry?” Carol didn’t seem to understand his misgivings.

“Don’t worry about it.” Charles was dismissive as he tried to ignore her presence. “If it’s all the same, I’d just as soon rest some more. I’m still exhausted from the headaches.”

“Yes, of course.” Carol switched off the light and slipped out of the isolation room. She watched him for a moment and didn’t hear the CDO approach from behind.

“He’s improving?”

She startled slightly and gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Actually, no. But his headaches have been relieved by the cocktail I gave him. Hopefully when Dr. LaRue returns, she can straighten out where I obviously went wrong.”

The CDO nodded then pulled her aside. “What if you didn’t do anything wrong?”

She gave him a concerned look. “How do you mean?”

“What if her treatment simply doesn’t work?”

Carol snorted. “Of course it works. Just look at the subjects we originally tested it on.”

He nodded slightly then pointed to Dr. Carpenter. “Then why is he getting worse?”

“Like I said, I must have done something wrong.”

“Or you didn’t do anything wrong and her treatment is a bust.”

Carol shook her head nervously. “No. That can’t be the case. The subjects..—”

“May have had a different strain. You did say that the virus has mutated, yes?”

“Well, yes, but…Dr. Carpenter was infected by one of the subjects. That would mean they would share the same virus. The same treatments should work.”

“Except they didn’t. Which can only mean that the virus mutated between the test subject’s initial treatment and his infecting Dr. Carpenter.”

Carol opened her mouth to reply but had no retort. She glanced back into the isolation room, then across the lab at the test subjects in their own isolation ward. She turned to the CDO. “We’d better hope that isn’t the case.”

He gave her a confused look. “Why’s that?”

“Because if it can mutate that quickly? We can’t possibly come up with a cure.”

Roger straddled his bike and reached for the starter once more. “Just go and talk to Candy. She knows about you.”

“You really think she’ll listen to me without you there with me?” He shook his head. “I think you suffered brain damage when they shaved your face, man.”

Roger sighed and clenched his jaw. “Look, man. I can’t go back. She doesn’t want me there and besides, I’ve been tempted with this whole cut-and-run idea since this whole thing began.”

“You think you’re the only one that wants out from under Simon’s thumb?” Mike snorted. “Every swinging dick in that camp would bail if they thought they could get away.”

“All the more reason for you to…” Roger trailed off, his head slowly turning and scanning the sky.

“What’s wrong? Ragers?” Mike suddenly went on the defensive.

“Shh!” Roger held a hand up to silence him.

“What is it?” Mike whispered.

“Do you hear that?” Roger stepped off his motorcycle and spun a slow circle. “It’s sounds like it’s coming from the north.”

“What the hell are you…” Mike trailed off, his ears finally picking up on what Roger was excited about. “Is that a helicopter?”

“It sure sounds like it.” Roger stepped away from his motorcycle and stared toward the sound. “Oh, no…no, no, no—”

“What man? What’s wrong?”

“It’s him!” Roger jumped back on his bike and turned the ignition on. “Look, man, you gotta intercept the gang. Steer them away from this place until we can take out Simon!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“It’s him!”

“Him, who?” Mike reached out and grabbed the handlebars of Roger’s bike. “Who the hell are you talking about?”

“The dude that gave Simon the slip out on the highway? The one that the chopper saved? HIM!”

“That Danny guy?”

“Yes! Now go!” Roger pushed at the larger man. “If we heard that damned chopper, then you know Simon did, too. He’s gonna come after this guy, because that’s what he does. He can’t just let it go.”

“What the hell do you expect me to do?” Mike asked as he straddled his own bike.

“Get between the camp and the warehouse. When they come looking for the chopper, redirect them, send them on a wild goose chase, something…ANYTHING!” Roger hit the starter and revved the engine. “I’m going back to the warehouse and hopefully I can convince them to either leave or hide the chopper.”

Mike groaned and started his own bike. “I can’t promise anything.”

“Do your best, man. That’s all I can ask.” Roger kicked the Harley into gear and spun it around to face the opposite direction. He revved the engine and shot back toward the way he had come.

Mike watched him leave, then pulled out and pointed his bike in the opposite direction. “Just stop them, he says. Like those sons of bitches will listen to me.”

Chapter 19

Skeeter slid to a stop at Hatcher’s office and threw herself at him. She wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed tightly.

“Woah, easy there.” Hatcher pried her arms loose and bent low to look her in the eye. “I brought you something.”

He stepped aside and watched as Skeeter’s eyes slowly grew wide.

“More like, he brought you someone.” Buck stepped from the corner of the office and held his arms out. “I missed you, Skeet.”

She practically launched herself at him and the pair almost fell to the floor from her tackle. “I can’t believe you’re alive!”

“Me neither, sometimes.” He pulled her tighter and lifted her from the ground. “I think you’ve grown.”

She landed on her feet and eyed him playfully. “Nope, you shrunk some!” She poked at his sides and he jumped. “But I’m really glad to see you.” She fell forward and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Sorry, I didn’t have time to clean up first. We were pretty much on the run the entire time.”

She shot him a wide smile and tugged at his arm. “Come on. I’ll show you where you can clean up.” The pair slipped out of Hatcher’s office and he practically fell into his chair. He had just reached for the bottle of hooch he kept hidden in the bottom drawer when Skeeter slid back into his office.

“Did you forget something?”

She threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you for saving him.”

Hatcher chuckled as he patted her back. “He did all the hard work.” He leaned back and eyed her. “He stayed alive this whole time on his own. I just got him a ride here.”

“Still…” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “I owe you.” A quick wink and she disappeared into the hallway again.

Hatcher smiled to himself, then reached for the drawer. After losing Captain Hollis and discovering that Bren didn’t survive her encounter with the CDC labs, he needed a stiff drink.

“Well, ain’t that a fine kick in the ass.”

He turned to see Candy and Vicky Sue standing in the doorway.

“You aren’t back five minutes and you’re already hitting the bar. You could at least say hello.”

Hatcher lifted the bottle and was about to ask them both to join him when he realized that the bottle was nearly empty. “I could have sworn there was a lot more in here when I left.”

“It probably evaporated.” Vicky suggested as she pushed her way through the door. She wrapped her arms around her brother and squeezed. “It’s good to have you home again.”

“It’s good to see you, too.” He emptied the bottle into his coffee cup and took a long pull. “You have no idea how much I needed that.”

Candy plopped into the chair opposite his desk. “So, tell us all about it. I’m assuming you had fun, since you didn’t even bother to send a postcard.” She shot him a sly grin.

Hatcher stared at the cup in his hands and shook his head slowly. “It was a lot worse than I feared.” He tilted the cup and emptied it. He continued to hold the cup and stare into the empty depths. “We lost a good man on the mission.”

“Just one?” Candy didn’t seem phased.

Hatcher nodded. “The leader of the soldiers. He was a captain.” He leaned back in his chair and when Candy saw his eyes, she sobered. “We got sent to Fort Collins to collect some kind of research that the military was doing before the world went to Hell.” He swallowed hard and turned his gaze to the floor. “He sacrificed himself so that the rest of us could get away.”

“Oh, Danny…I’m so sorry.” Vicky reached out and took his hand.

“You’d think it wouldn’t be that big a deal. I barely knew the guy.” Hatcher set his coffee cup down and really wished he had another bottle to open. “It’s not like we haven’t all lost people, right? But then on the way back here I find out that Bren didn’t survive some kind of infection.”

He heard the two women gasp. “But she seemed so healthy.” Vicky said.

“What kind of infection takes down someone who’s immune to the virus?” Candy asked.

Hatcher could only shake his head. “If I’d known how cold-blooded the CDC people were, I’d have never suggested taking them there.” He glanced up and Candy knew what he was about to say. “She’s dead because I insisted they go.”

“No!” Candy slammed her hand on the desk top. “You are not going to blame yourself for this. Both of them would have been Zulu snacks if we hadn’t helped them.”

Hatcher nodded. “But we did and they both survived us.” He stared at her and his eyes were resolute. “Until I forced them to go to the CDC.”

Vicky stood and shook her finger at him. “This isn’t on you, Danny.”

He stood and dropped the bottle into the trash can. “Yes, it is.” He stood tall and squared his shoulders. “It is on me. But that’s the cost of being a leader.” He stepped out from behind his desk and opened the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find a hot shower and some clean clothes. I smell like one of the Zulus.”

The pair watched him walk out and pull the door shut behind him. Candy looked to Vicky and shrugged. “At least he made it home unscathed.”

Vicky raised a brow. “Did he?”

Simon could still feel the effects of the alcohol and had to shake his head to clear his vision. He could smell the booze seeping out of his pores and he really wished he could puke again. He knew it would just be coffee and stomach acid, but somehow he knew he would feel better.

He waited while the rest of the men armed themselves and mounted their bikes. He had heard the chopper blades slow their rhythmic beating and then increase again. He assumed that it either dropped somebody off or picked somebody up again, because they didn’t stay low for long.

He cursed himself silently for not having snipers set up on the perimeter who could have taken shots at the craft. They might not have been able to bring it down, but perhaps they could have crippled the craft. Maybe he could find out for sure where they landed, who they were carrying, or what they were doing in his backyard.

“Let’s move it, you sons of bitches!” He revved the engine on his Harley and kicked it into gear. He pulled up to one of his lieutenants and barked, “They can catch up. Whoever’s ready now, follow me!”

He throttled up and pulled away from the camp, a dozen motorcycles pulling out behind him. He drove in the direction the chopper had been spotted approaching and rode full speed when the roads were straight enough to allow it.

Simon slowed as he came to a larger intersection and tried to get his bearings. “It looked like they were dropping down somewhere over there.” He pointed and his lieutenant nodded.

“I can send a half-dozen men that direction and we can go straight to see if we can spot anything?”

Simon considered splitting his forces up so soon but nodded. “Do it.”

While his man barked orders, Simon considered his options. If he could find either the people or the location the chopper had gone, he could always rally back at the camp and gather his men for an assault. First, he had to identify the target.

He watched as the men turned left and headed away from them. Four more men were catching up to the group from the camp when he kicked his bike into gear again and crossed the intersection.

All he needed was a sign. Something that could point him in the right direction.

Savage rode toward the camp and could see dust rising in the air in the distance. He knew that the members were on the move and clenched his jaw.

He goosed the bike and tried to close the distance. He slowed the bike for the next intersection, and was actually surprised to see a handful of riders heading toward him. He could just see another handful pulling through the intersection and going due west. He pulled his bike out slowly and watched as the men slowed their machines.

Savage held a hand up to them as they approached.

“Where the hell did you run off to?”

Savage raised a brow at the man and gave him a stern look. “Do I answer to you?”

The man seemed to deflate slightly. “Well…no. But Simon wasn’t happy that you just took off.”

“Well, he should be fucking happy that I did. I saw that chopper again.”

The men seemed to perk up. “Where is it?”

Savage shook his head. “It took off again.” He pointed behind him. “They landed about two blocks that way, picked up somebody in a camo uniform, then took off again.”

The lead man pulled his radio and tried to raise Simon. He called repeatedly, but to no avail. He glanced over his shoulder. “Simon went straight through that intersection. Maybe if we hurry we can catch him.”

Savage wasted no time kicking his bike into gear and heading in the direction the man pointed. The rest fell into place behind him and turned at the intersection they had just come from.

Savage sent a silent prayer to whatever god might be left that they could find Simon before he found Roger’s people.

Roger slid his motorcycle to a stop at the locked chain link gates and waved at the guards. They quickly opened the gates and Roger pulled the bike in and through the staging area. He practically leapt from the bike and turned to the guards, “We could be having company! I’m sure they spotted the chopper. We need to seal the gates and make ourselves invisible!”

The guards scrambled to secure the gates and two men dragged rusty pieces of tin roofing in front of the entrance along with other large pieces of trash that they often used to disguise the place.

Roger ran into the warehouse and grabbed the nearest sentry, “Where’s Candy?”

“I think she’s in the office with—”

“Thanks!” Roger was gone before the man could finish his sentence.

Roger threw open the door and startled both women as he tried to catch his breath. “The chopper.”

Candy gave him a surprised look. “What about it?”

“Simon and his gang are just across town. I’d bet money they saw it approach.”

“Oh hell…”

Daniel nearly screamed when Vicky threw back the shower curtain. “We got a problem!”

Daniel pulled the chain and rinsed the soap from his body then turned and gave her a hateful glare. “I’m sure you do, but couldn’t it wait another damned minute?”

“Danny, those marauders you ran into on the highway? They’re in town.” She waited for him to put the pieces together. When he gave her a so what look she elaborated. “The chopper? It just dropped you off…they probably saw it.”

Daniel’s heart fell into his stomach and he pushed past her, quickly dragging a towel across his body. “Put the guards on alert. I want spotters on the roof and people in ghillie suits on the perimeter. Make sure they’re armed to the teeth.”

“Roger says he’s got a man on the—”

“Who the hell is Roger?” Hatcher asked as he pulled his pants on.

“He’s, uh…this guy that…well, he and Candy are…” Vicky turned away and refused to meet his gaze.

“Spill it, Vic! We don’t have all day.”

“He was one of them.” There. She spit it out. Now maybe she could fix it.

“He’s WHAT?”

“He was a cop that went undercover to infiltrate the motorcycle gang. While he was with them, all of this happened and…well, like he said. There was safety in numbers.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means he stayed because he had nowhere else to go. But he stumbled upon us and he didn’t say anything to them about us. Now he’s trying to keep it that way.” Vicky shrugged. “At least until their leader is removed. He thinks that the people following them could make a go at—”

“At what, Vic? Spit it out.”

“At joining us. Helping us create a community here.”

Hatcher’s mouth hung open as he stared at her. “The last I recall, we could barely feed the people we have already. Now you want to add more?”

“About that.” Vicky gave him a tight-lipped smile. “While you were gone, we found plenty of food.”

“Well, isn’t that just freakin’ dandy?” Hatcher jerked his shirt on and fumbled as he tried to button it. “Nice to know some of this stuff, dontcha think?”

“Don’t start with me Danny. You were the one who came in all slumpy and decided to take a shower before getting caught up on—”

“Roof sentries have spotted people on motorcycles.” Candy interrupted. “Throw your boots on and get topside.”

She disappeared back into the hallway and Hatcher glared at Vicky. “Tell me that didn’t sound bossy?”

Vicky shrugged. “You were the one who put her in charge when you left.”

Chapter 20

Hatcher raised the binoculars and stared at the two men meandering their way down the street. They paused at the intersection where they had dumped the burnt-out car and one man stepped off his bike.

“Shit. They noticed something.”

“What?” Candy asked.

Hatcher watched as the man stepped to the front of his bike and grasped his crotch.

“Oh. Nevermind. He’s taking a leak.”

Roger reached for the glasses and peered in the direction Hatcher had been watching. “That’s a little too convenient, don’t ya think? Of all the places to stop and take a piss, he chooses our front doors.”

“Ours?” Hatcher reached out and took the spyglasses from him.

Roger cast his eyes away and sighed heavily. “For what it’s worth, I was on my way out of town when you came back.” He avoided the open-mouthed stare that Candy gave him. “I knew you needed to be warned.”

“Fat lot of good that’s going to do us if they discover us.” Hatcher lowered the binoculars and radioed the men posted at the corners of the intersection.

Candy reached out and pulled Roger back and away from the group. “What the hell did you mean you were headed out of town?” Her narrowed eyes warned Roger to shoot straight with her.

Roger cleared his throat and avoided her eyes. “I knew you’d never look at me the same. I felt it best if I just—”

“What? Leave?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah.” He glanced around and gave her a lopsided grin. “You were doing great until I showed up. I figured you really didn’t need me around to screw things up for you.”

“For a cop, you are really stupid, you know that?” She punched him in the arm and turned her back to him. “You better pray those guys show up and beat the hell out of you.”

He gave her a confused and shocked look. “What do you mean?”

She spun and poked him hard in the chest. “Because if they don’t, then I’ll have to, and trust me, you don’t want an ass-whoopin’ from me.”

Roger fought the urge to smile and gave her a curt nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

“They’re moving on.” Hatcher announced. “Let’s clear the roof of everybody but the one sentry. We’ve got four men on the ground with eyes on each road leading here. We won’t get much warning, but we’ll get something.”

“I still have a man on the ground.” He met Hatcher’s questioning eyes. “I trust him. If there’s any way he can defuse this, he will.”

Hatcher studied the new man’s face, then glanced at Candy who gave him a slight nod. “Fine. I’m not hedging my bets on anything right now, but I’ll cross my fingers and hope your man can pull this off.”

Hatcher marched past the pair and grabbed the ladder handles. “Everybody off the roof. We can’t risk any of them spotting us.”

Savage bounced his headlight between hi and low beam until he caught Simon’s attention. He actually breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the man’s brake lights come on and his bike slide to a stop.

Savage rolled up alongside him and cut off his engine.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

Savage glared at him. “Not that it’s any of your business, but me and Stella got into it. I hit the road to clear my head before I snapped her in half like a dry twig.”

Simon raised a brow at him, unsure of whether to believe him or not. “Tell me you seen that chopper.”

Savage nodded and pointed with his chin. “It landed over that way about a block and a half. Seen a guy in a camo uniform run out to it and board the thing. Then it took off again.”

Simon stared at him, hoping for some sign that the man was lying. Savage remained stoic. To the others in the group, they might have appeared to be in a staring match. Finally, Savage threw his hands in the air. “What?”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re jerking my chain?”

Savage rolled his eyes. “Well, fuck me. How am I supposed to know what’s rolling around in that sick paranoid fucking head of yours?” He leaned back and spread his arms wide. “Maybe I’m in cahoots with the damned military. Is that what you’re thinking? Maybe I’m just waiting for you to fall asleep or get piss-drunk again, and then I’ll stick one of those alien implants into your head so they can track you.” He crossed his arms and glared at the man. “You have plenty of reasons to wrap your fucking noodle in tin foil. You don’t need to go inventing new ones.”

He started his motorcycle again and Simon snatched his handlebars. “Where you going now?”

Savage glared at him and leaned in close, his voice a hoarse whisper. “I’m going back to the camp and screw Stella’s brains out. I don’t give a shit what you do. You can run all over this piss-ant town and chase shadows for all I care.” He pushed his hand away from his handlebars and with his eyes dared him to reach for them again.

“I ain’t done with you,” Simon barked.

“Well, I’m done with you.” Savage kicked the bike into gear and pulled away from the crowd. As he rode away, he glanced at his side mirrors, half-expecting some of the men to peel away from the group and give chase.

He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or nervous that none did.

As he rode back to camp, he hoped that his bluff had worked. He knew that Simon was paranoid and half a bubble off. He couldn’t know if he had crossed the line by making such a strong stand in front of his lieutenants, or if he had gained more respect for refusing to lick his boots.

In the end, he knew that he’d done what he could to throw him off of Roger’s scent. He could only pray that Simon accepted what he had told him as truth.

He tried not to replay the interaction in his head during the ride back. He couldn’t help but imagine how things might have ended if he’d just gone ahead and blown Simon’s head off there on the street. Would his men be too shocked to react, or would they retaliate? He couldn’t begin to guess.

He knew that if he was going to kill Simon, he’d either have to call him out in front of the entire gang or kill him in his sleep. At the moment, he couldn’t decide which would be the best way to go about it.

Savage had been so lost in thought that he was actually surprised when the camp began to come into view. He slowed the bike and coasted up and over the curb. He pulled the bike to his trailer and slid off the saddle.

Stella nearly tackled him when he walked in the door. “Where have you been? Did you know that nearly everybody took off like a scalded cat a bit ago?”

He nodded and shut her up with a kiss. “I know. They spotted a chopper and went chasing it.” He peeled his jacket off and tossed it across the worn-out sofa. “I’m pretty sure I knocked them off the track.”

Stella shot him a confused look. “Why would you do that?”

“The fresh start? The new beginning? That’s why.”

She climbed into his lap and straddled him. “I’m so confused.”

He pulled her close and held her. “It’s okay, baby. So am I most of the time.” He ran his hand up and down her back as his mind raced. “Just do me a favor? I doubt he’s smart enough to ask, but if Simon asks you why I left, just tell him we got into a fight and I stormed out.”

She pulled back and shook her head. “We never fight.”

“He don’t know that.” He planted a peck on her nose. “Just do it for me.”

She nodded and laid her head back on his chest. “Tell me we aren’t in trouble, Savage.”

“We aren’t in trouble.” He sighed and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m just not sure how to do what needs doing.”

Roger followed Candy into the main body of the warehouse and finally pulled her aside. “Hey, we need to talk.”

“Do you really think that now is the best time to do that?”

He nodded and lowered his voice. “I do.” He turned her so that his back was to the masses that passed by. “Look, I get it, okay. You have every right to be pissed at me, but if I hadn’t been out there, I wouldn’t have run into Mike and got a plan put in place.”

Her narrowed eyes softened somewhat. “Go on.”

“We’re in a bad position here.”

“We can defend this place.”

“That’s not what I mean.” He glanced around and motioned to the people rapidly setting up their makeshift defenses. “These people, they’re trying to hunker down, defend their home…they’re trying to protect what’s theirs.”

“Exactly.”

“They have something to lose. Simon doesn’t. He knows that. If his people want to eat, they have to take it. If they need ammunition, they have to steal it. If they want weapons—”

“I get it. So what’s your point?”

“It’s going to be ten times harder for us. We’re trying to stay alive, but we’re also trying to protect what we have here. Simon will use that against us. If he can’t get what he wants right away, he’ll start destroying things until he does. To him, it’s no loss because he doesn’t have it. Yet.”

Candy’s eyes widened as the situation came into focus for her. “He’s the scavenger…”

“And we’re trying to make something worth saving.” He gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Our best hope is that Savage drops Simon right away. Yeah, there will be a bit of chaos amongst Simon’s true believers, but once they get a taste of what we can build together here, I think they’ll come around.”

“And if they don’t, you and Savage will take care of them.”

Roger stiffened. “That isn’t fair.”

Candy flushed and looked away. “You’re right.” She stared at the floor and reached for his hand. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“No, I didn’t.” He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb. “Or maybe I did. I don’t know.”

“Can we pretend I didn’t say it?” She looked at him hopefully and he knew that whether she had said it or not, she felt it in her heart.

He gave her a weak nod. “Sure.”

She pulled him close and wrapped her arms around his neck, tiptoeing to reach him. “I really am sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He pulled her tighter, then suddenly let her go. “Wait a second…”

“What?”

“Didn’t you have a makeshift commune set up for them to find?”

She nodded and gave him a crooked smile. “It was a thought that we tried to put in place, but we couldn’t sell it. Not unless we moved a lot of people there and I wasn’t ready to risk their lives.”

A slow smile started to form. “What if we make it look like people had been there, but left?”

She shrugged. “What good would that do?”

“I’m just bouncing ideas here, but let’s say Mike can’t get close enough to remove Simon. We create a fake community and make it look like the people abandoned it.”

She ran her hand alongside his face. “I don’t think he’d buy it. It wouldn’t convince me, and if he’s as mean and psycho as you say, he’d never buy it, either.” She pulled back and stared at him. “Our best bet is to lay low and pray that he goes on about his business. Maybe he’ll go on to Albuquerque?”

Roger shook his head. “He’s like a dog with a bone once an idea gets in his head.” He glanced behind him at the people rushing around, reinforcing walls and loading magazines. “Look, I’m telling ya, we need something to throw him off.”

Candy noticed something in his facial expression that sent a cold chill up her spine. “Like what?” she asked cautiously.

Roger inhaled deeply and blew it out slowly. “Maybe I should go back.”

“Absolutely not.” She had to force herself to remain calm and keep her voice low. “You faked your death, remember? What are you, zombie cop?”

Roger gave her a solemn smile. “No, not a zombie, but I’m sure I could come up with a believable excuse to—”

“Let’s just give your guy Mike a chance to do his thing.” She pressed her finger against his lips to shush him. “Right now, he has no idea where we are, and if we keep our head down and the noise to a minimum, with any luck he’ll pass right on by.”

Roger shook his head. “We’re not that lucky.”

“Yes, we are.” She hooked her arm into his and began walking back toward the offices. “And Rio Rancho is a big town compared to most. He’s got a lot of area to cover and the odds of him finding us grow slimmer by the day.”

He gave her a sideways look. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Just shut up and agree with me.”

Chapter 21

Hatcher paced as his mind raced. He paused for only a moment when Vicky entered his office. “You okay?”

He shot her a confused look. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

She crossed her arms and leaned against the filing cabinet. “You look like you’re about ready to jump out of your skin.”

“I need coffee.”

She chuckled. “No, you don’t. You’re too nervous now.”

“Coffee helps me think.”

“Not when you’re like this.”

He spun on her, his face reddening. “Did you want something or did you come in here to bust my chops?”

“Nobody’s busting your chops, Danny.” She pushed off the cabinet and slowly approached him. “You’re wound too tight.”

“I’ll be fine.” He turned to continue pacing and she gripped his shoulders. “You need to relax.”

“That isn’t going to help me figure a way out of this mess.”

“Sit down.” She pushed him slightly and steadied him as he fell into his chair. “You need to have a sit down with Roger.”

Hatcher’s brows knit and he glared at her. “Why would I do that?”

“Because he lived with these people. He can give you insight into their behaviors, their habits, their fears…whatever you may need.”

Hatcher hated to admit she was right, but he reluctantly nodded. “Bring him in.”

Vicky leaned out of the office door and nodded to Candy. She stepped aside and allowed the couple to walk in. “Hey, Hatch.” Candy stepped around his desk and gave him a crooked smile.

Hatcher eyed Roger as he stepped in and extended his hand. “We weren’t formally introduced.”

Hatcher sighed and grasped the offered appendage. “Tell me about these people.”

Roger motioned to the chair opposite of Hatcher and Daniel nodded. He slipped into the seat and seemed to sit on the edge. “I rode with these guys for about six months before this all went down.” He scooted back into the seat and leaned back as he tried to think of the pertinent information. “I can tell you that the leader, Simon, is a psychopath. He’s paranoid. He’s dangerous and he can’t be trusted.”

“Yet you rode with him,” Hatcher deadpanned.

Roger nodded. “I sure did. And I hated every moment of it. But my job required me to gain their trust, so I did.”

“In six months?” Hatcher leaned forward. “If this asshole is so paranoid, how’d you pull that off?”

“I blended in. I mixed with the right people at the right time. When they did something bad, I got the credit, too. Before long, Simon began to see me as one of the go-getters. Going above and beyond in an attempt to climb the ladder.”

Hatcher had to admit that the story was plausible. “Go on.”

“When everything went down, I tried to get to my wife. We were going to skip town and…” He averted his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat. “Obviously, those plans didn’t work out, so I ended up back with the gang.”

“And you stayed with them.”

Roger nodded. “Safety in numbers.”

“So, you ‘became’ a member and went along with the looting, raping, killing…”

Roger lowered his eyes again and nodded. “Yes, I did.”

“So this Simon saw you as one of their own?”

Roger nodded again.

Hatcher leaned back in his chair and tapped on his desk with a pencil. “What happened?”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, what happened that you’re with us now, instead of with him.”

Roger nodded and glanced to Candy. “Let’s just say I got tired of being the bad guy. I ran across a couple of your people while searching for you—”

“Me?”

Roger smiled. “Simon wasn’t too happy that you escaped his trap. He had us heading out in four different directions looking for your base of operation.” Hatcher nodded and waved him on. “Anyway, I ran into Hank and Wally. They brought me to meet Candy and…” He glanced at Candy again and grinned. “I liked what I saw.”

Hatcher watched Candy’s face flush and sighed. “So, you decided to turn against your own for…what? Something better?”

Roger opened his mouth to argue but held his tongue. He realized the pressure that Daniel must be under and the mistrust he would obviously hold for a stranger. He chose to simply nod. “It’s not like I was really with them. I rode with them. Like I said, there was safety in numbers. But once I saw this place? This town? All of the potential to create a real community?”

“There are other towns, you know.”

“True. But not nearly as many survivors as you might think.”

Hatcher nodded and his brows knit together. “Especially after Simon found them.”

Roger shrugged. “Sometimes he’d get stupid and kill off people that could have contributed to the cause, but—”

“Contributed to the cause?” Hatcher interrupted.

Roger blew his breath out. “This is going to take longer if you challenge every ill-chosen word that comes out of my mouth.” He eyed Hatcher cautiously, then proceeded. “By contribute, I mean to get the human race back on its feet. Save the species. That kind of contribution.”

Hatcher eyed him and fought the urge to bark at him. “You mean breeders?”

“No!” Roger was on his feet now. “I mean healthy young people who could help build something. Like you’re doing here.”

“We have old people, invalids, children…not exactly what you might think of when you think of rebuilding humanity.”

Roger exhaled slowly. “Every person has something to offer.” He threw his hands in the air. “Unless you stop challenging every statement I make…”

Hatcher held a hand up. “You’re right. Go on.” Here’s the rope, son. Hang yourself.

“Anyway, I rode with Simon until I ran into your group. There are enough in numbers here that if we could combine the two, we’d have a real shot at creating a community. At least, that was my thought.”

“Except Simon might not like the idea of sharing resources and would rather just take what he wanted and shoot the rest.”

“Exactly.” Roger sat back down. “Now, there are good people in the group. People like me who were just trying to survive the end of the world.” He waited a moment for Hatcher to attack him for his choice of words. When the attack didn’t come, he continued. “There are also bad apples. Not many, mind you, but enough to make things difficult.”

“Tell me about this Mike guy.”

“Big. Big and hairy and scary-looking as hell, but once you get to know him a little, you realize he’s not mean-hearted. He wants the same things as everybody else.”

Hatcher swallowed the lump in his throat as he thought of Mitch. “I know the type.”

“Anyway, he wants to help. He’s going to try to remove Simon from the equation.”

“You mean kill him.” Hatcher’s face was stoic.

Roger nodded. “If he can, yes. But you gotta understand, there’s no other way to deal with people like Simon. He’s crazy enough that if we tossed him and tried to build something good without him being the leader, he’d never stop. He’d do everything in his power to destroy what he couldn’t have. He’d build up another army and he’d—”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t deserve it. If he’s half as crazy as you paint him, then he’s a rabid dog that needs to be put down.”

“Again, exactly.” Roger nodded at him knowingly. “But if Mike can’t do it—”

“Then we’ll have to face him.”

Candy stepped forward, “Or we might can lay low long enough that he decides we were never here.” She cast a look at Roger that he missed. “We can’t be sure that he knows we’re here and—”

“Roger here is saying that the people in that group are worth saving,” Hatcher said, interrupting her. “That means what? Women? Children?”

“There are families in the group, yes.”

Hatcher turned back to Candy. “So, if he decides we don’t exist, those people are trapped with a psycho at the helm. And we don’t want that, do we?”

Roger shook his head. “And if he’s aware that the chopper came through, odds are, he’ll be on guard constantly. We couldn’t get close enough to take him out quietly.”

Hatcher absorbed the information and eventually nodded his head. “So, it’s agreed. We won’t be quiet about it.”

Simon beat on Savage’s trailer door. “Open up you overgrown son of a—”

The door flew open in Simon’s face and Savage stood in the doorway in a pair of boxers. “What do you want?”

“We need to talk.” The look in Simon’s eye was borderline feral.

“It can wait ’til I’m done with Stella.” Savage reached for the door to pull it shut, but Simon stepped into the path, blocking it.

“We can talk now.”

Savage growled low in his throat and stepped down from the trailer. The entire thing rocked as he stomped down the metal steps. When he reached the ground, he glared at Simon. “You ain’t near as pretty as she is, so make it quick.”

Simon’s face twisted and he looked up at the larger man. “You’ve been pushing your luck lately, Savage.” He poked the big man in the chest with a finger. “Have you forgotten who’s in charge here?”

Savage raised a brow at his actions. “Oh, you’re definitely in charge. But you wreak of whiskey and your decisions have been pretty stupid.” He extended an arm and leaned against the side of the trailer. “Like barking at me and accusing me of lying to you out there when you were looking for the chopper? What the hell, man?” Savage leaned down and lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper. “Who’s had your back since day one? Who’s stepped between you and the members when they all thought you went off the deep end? Who’s acted as your main enforcer and bodyguard all this time?” He poked himself in the chest. “Me, that’s who. And then what do you do in front of the other lieutenants? You question me and my motives? You paint me to be a traitor?”

“Your actions of late have caused me to question your loyalties, man.”

Savage leaned back and shook his head. “That’s fucked up, man. I’ve always been loyal to you.”

Simon stepped back and cocked his head to the side as if he were trying to comprehend what Savage said. “Funny. You don’t look loyal.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Simon struck faster than Savage expected, sinking his blade deep into the big man’s midsection. “I mean, you don’t look loyal!” He let the knife slide out of Savage’s body as he fell to the ground. He leaned over the larger man and stared him in the eye while Savage gripped the wound with both hands, his breath coming in rapid pants. “You said you were coming back here to bone your old lady, but it don’t look like you were. I don’t smell sex in the air. You aren’t even sweaty.” He leaned down and spat in his face. “If you ain’t breakin’ a sweat, then you ain’t doing it right.”

The smaller man cackled as he spun and threw the knife at Savage’s bike. “Let that sink in, you disloyal bitch!” Simon kicked at the dirt and pulled the bottle from his back pocket. He bit the cork and spat it into the air, then tilted it back and took a long pull.

Savage watched him dance away and he raised his arm and beat against the side of the trailer. “Stella!”

In moments she appeared at the doorway. The shock on her face was obvious as she dropped to the ground and tried to hold the blood back. “Oh my god, Mike! What happened?”

Savage swallowed hard and felt himself getting colder. “Simon.” He turned and stared at her. “Fucker stabbed me.” His voice sounded dry and raspy.

“What do I do, what do I do, what do I do?” Stella felt panic begin to shoot through her body as she looked around for some answer that she knew wasn’t there.

“Get me in the truck. Then drive.”

“Where Mike? There’s no hospitals anymore…”

He pulled her face close to his. “I know a place.”

“The new beginning? The start over?”

He nodded and clenched his teeth. “They got people. Maybe they can help.”

Stella reached down and lifted his arm over her shoulder as she lifted. “Come on, Mike. Move!”

Simon tossed the bottle to the side and watched from behind a large tree. The darkness of the night was enough to conceal him in the shadows, but the tree ensured Savage wouldn’t notice him.

“Did you have to stab him, boss?”

Simon nodded slowly. “You see, Scud, in order to force him to show his hand, I had to call his bluff.” He turned and patted the man’s face hard. “If the bastard dies…well, too bad, so sad. But if I’m right—”

“What?”

“He’s gonna lead us to where that chopper landed.”

Scud shook his head. “I don’t see how. He told the guys that it landed and picked up a guy.”

Simon turned and glared at the man. “And how many uniformed soldiers have you seen marching around this piss-ant town?”

Scud shook his head. “Well…none, boss.”

“Exactly. He’s up to something, and now we’re gonna find out what.” Simon turned and dragged Scud behind him. “You disconnected the headlights on the bikes, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, boss. Just like you said. But I don’t know how we’re gonna see without—”

“We’re gonna follow close enough that we don’t’ need lights.” He pointed as the headlights to the old GMC pickup flared and Stella pulled the machine away from the trailer. “Move!” He pushed Scud toward the bikes and the pair heard engines come to life as the truck shot past the edge of the camp.

“We got moonlight, boss. We should be able to see okay.”

Simon ignored the man and straddled his bike. “Stay close, but not so close they notice us. Stay off your brakes, too. Downshift to slow down. We don’t need them seeing any light at all.”

He started his bike and kicked it into gear. “Time to go hunting!”

Chapter 22

“Jesus!” Roger pushed the gates open and dragged some of the rusty tin roofing from the entrance. “Give me a hand here!”

Two of the guards trotted out and began dragging debris from the entrance while Roger waved the rusty old pickup truck to the staging area. “Tell me what happened.”

Stella slid out from behind the wheel and ran to the other door. When she pulled it open Savage nearly fell out onto the concrete pad. “Simon went nuts and stabbed him. He passed out when the guy in the hairy suit told us where to go.”

Roger pulled Mike from the cab of the truck and went pale from the amount of blood soaked into the seat and the coagulated puddle in the floor.

Hatcher ran to the staging area and directed the men wheeling the gurney to the truck. “Tell me you weren’t followed.”

Stella’s hands were shaking as they began to push Mike from the staging area. “Is he going to be okay?”

“Were you followed?” Hatcher stood in front of her and gripped her face to get her attention. “We need to know.”

She seemed to snap back to reality and stared at him for a moment. “No. I don’t think so.” She pointed to Mike. “He kept trying to look behind us for lights and he said he expected them to come after us, but we never saw them.”

Hatcher visibly relaxed. He turned to the gate guards. “Get the crap stuff moved back and—”

“We got company!” the radios barked simultaneously, cutting Hatcher off midsentence.

He pulled his radio and keyed the mic. “Talk to me!”

“Multiple riders on motorcycles, no lights. They’re a block away and split into two groups. I can see taillights from a couple of them and they might be surrounding us.”

“Son of a…” Hatcher turned to Roger. “Stay with your friend and take her with you.” He turned back to the guards, “Snuff out anything that makes light. Put everybody on lockdown and get this entrance secured!” He snapped his fingers at the people as they scurried about. “Let’s go, go, go!”

He keyed the radio again. “Keep an eye on them. If any of them approach the entrance, I want to know.”

“Roger that, Hatch.”

Hatcher jogged to the ladder and climbed up to the roof. He grabbed the binoculars from Hank and scanned the area. “No lights?”

“Just the occasional brake light.” He pointed to the path the second group had taken to circle the block. “No headlights, but I saw some of them turn up there. They should be coming around any time now.”

Hatcher approached the parapet and hunkered down, only the field glasses visible at the crest. “I’m not seeing…wait. I’ve got movement.”

Hank rested his rifle across the crest of the parapet and tried to track where the bikers would emerge.

Hatcher keyed the radio again. “Where’s the other group?”

“They’ve circled back to the south. I can’t tell if they turned west or not. They might just be gridding the area looking for the truck.”

Hatcher groaned. “There’s only so many places that truck could disappear to.” He glanced around at the other abandoned buildings in the area.

Hank stiffened and turned to Hatcher. “Once they’ve cleared our block, me and Wally could take that truck and try to lead them away.”

Hatcher shook his head. “How would you get back? And that’s if they didn’t stop you on the road and…NO. It ain’t happening.”

Hank squared his shoulders. “Hiding ain’t working, Hatch. They’ll figure it out eventually.”

Hatcher groaned and tried to imagine the ramifications of leading them away from the area. “I don’t like it, Hank.”

Hank stood and handed Hatcher the rifle. “Sorry, Hatch. I gotta keep the rest of our people safe. I’m the head of security, so it falls on me.” He pulled his radio and held it in front of Hatcher. “The moment they’re clear of our block, you radio me. We’ll make sure they see the truck, but we’re heading north. We’ll lead them away from here.”

Hatcher shook his head and came to his feet. “I can’t let you do this.”

Hank chuckled. “You can’t stop me, Hatch. I’m a grown-assed man.” He patted the man’s shoulder. “I will see you again.”

Before Hatcher could argue, Hank turned and disappeared down the ladder. Hatcher slid back down the side of the parapet and cursed. “I should have shot him in the knee.”

“They got to be around here somewhere.” Simon cursed under his breath and slowed the motorcycle to a stop. “Where the hell could they have disappeared to?”

Scud braked, lighting up their rear. “I saw them turn this direction, but now…I have no friggin’ clue.”

Simon pulled his radio and keyed it. “Anybody got eyes on that rusty piece of crap?” He received a collection of negatives before he held the radio aloft, wanting to throw it, but refusing to let go. “I really want to kill something right about now.”

His radio barked and Simon turned it up. “We could double-back, retrace our steps?”

“No, keep moving. They’ve got to show themselves eventually.” He turned to Scud and ground his teeth. “That little bitch Stella probably saw one of those idiots’ brake lights. She’s hiding someplace. I know it. I can feel it.”

“Hey, boss, you don’t reckon she got to where she was going, do ya?”

Simon opened his mouth to curse the idiot beside him, then slowly closed it, the gears inside his head spinning. “You know…she might have.” He glanced over his shoulder and tried to imagine which buildings could possibly hide a pickup and a group of survivors.

“You might not be as stupid as I thought you was.”

Hatcher cursed, then keyed the radio. “They’ve stopped. They’re only a block and half away, but it doesn’t look like they’re going anywhere. If you’re going to do this, you better do it now before thedouble-back.”

“On our way, Hatch,” Wally replied.

Hatcher gripped the radio and uttered a quick prayer to a god he didn’t believe in that his people would remain safe. “God’s speed, boys.”

He heard the rattle of the chain link gates as they were pulled open and the engine of the truck rev before Hank pulled out onto the street. He couldn’t hear the gates close over the engine accelerating down their road, but he watched as the truck shot past the empty box truck and slide around the corner by the gas station. Once they rounded the corner, the boys turned their headlights on and floored the accelerator. Hatcher winced as the sound of the large V-8 echoed off the surrounding buildings, but he nearly whooped with joy when the motorcycles all turned and followed the noise.

He slid down the parapet and sat on the roof. “Your ploy worked, Hank. They’re following.” He hung his head and fought the urge to punch the wall. “Be safe, fellas.”

“We’ll see you come daybreak, Hatch.” With that, the radio went dead.

Hatcher stood on weak legs and walked to the ladder. He felt like he didn’t have the strength to climb down, but he dug into his reserves and forced his body to respond. When he reached the floor of the warehouse and leaned his head against the rungs of the ladder and muttered, “Please keep them safe.”

Vicky worked quickly. She got the saline IV going and used the morphine she had in stock to knock the mountain man out. It took everything she had to probe his innards and seal up the two small cuts in the small intestine.

She was stitching him together when Roger stuck his head in. “How’s he doing? His girl is about to go nuts out here.”

“I’m closing him up now.” Vicky wiped at the sweat on her forehead with the back of her hand. “I probed as best as I could and only found two small cuts inside.” She glanced at Roger who couldn’t see her expression behind the mask. “That must have been a really sharp blade. Usually the intestines are fluid enough to avoid being sliced.”

“So, he’s gonna make it?” he asked hopefully.

“If he doesn’t succumb to a secondary infection, yeah. He should be sore, but he’ll survive.”

Roger visibly relaxed. “She’ll be thrilled to know that.”

“Don’t get her hopes up just yet.” Vicky stepped back and pulled her mask down. “Look, I’m no doctor, and I’m definitely not a surgeon. There’s still a lot of things that could go wrong. He’s not out of the woods yet.”

“I understand. And I’ll make sure she knows.” He started to stick his hand out, then held it up. “I’d shake your hand but…”

Vicky shot him a grin before she pulled the mask back up. “Afterwards.”

Roger watched her return to work and he pulled the door shut. He walked to the old couch where Stella nervously sat, her thumbnail ruined by her chewing at it. When she spotted him, she stood so abruptly she startled herself. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Roger gave her a reassuring smile and pulled her into a hug. “Doc says he’s gonna make it.” She nearly collapsed in his arms and he directed her back to the sofa. “Look, there’s still a lot that could go wrong. His guts were sliced up pretty good, but Doc stitched him up. He’s still got a long way to go to make it through all of this, but his odds are good.” He placed a hand on her cheek and gave her a solemn look. “He’s going to need your strength, okay?”

Stella nodded and tried to give him a tear-stained smile. “You know it.”

“I’ve got to check on what’s going on outside. I’ll be back to check on you shortly. Just sit tight and Vic will come and fill you in when she’s done.”

He patted her shoulder reassuringly before turning and heading back into the warehouse. He spotted Candy talking to Hatcher and trotted to the pair. “Tell me they drove past.”

Hatcher shook his head. “They started to, but stopped just a block away. You could almost see the gears in their heads spin as they tried to figure out where the truck went.”

“So…where are they now?”

Hatcher lowered his eyes. “They’re following the truck.”

Roger stepped closer and stared at him. “They’re what?”

“Two of our people volunteered to drive north in the truck. To lead them away from us.” Hatcher looked up at Roger and didn’t like what he saw.

“No. No, you gotta call them back. If Simon catches them…the things he’ll do to them? They’ll tell him everything just for a quick death.”

“Oh my god.” Candy gasped.

“They’ve turned their radios off.” Hatcher leaned against the column and eyed the men in the warehouse still loading ammunition in preparation for a fight. “If I had some way to catch up with them…”

Roger’s eyes lit up. “My Harley.”

“Can you see ’em?”

Wally turned and stared out of the back window. “Nope. You sure they’re back there?”

Hank shrugged. “As much noise as we made when we split? Yeah. They’re back there.”

“Wait! I saw a flash of red.” He turned to Hank. “Cop bikes?”

Hank shook his head. “Tail lights, I’d bet.” He goosed the accelerator and shot through another intersection. “The hospital is just a couple of blocks away. That’s where I’d go if I had a hurt friend and didn’t know any better.” He glanced to Wally and shrugged. “You never know. There might be supplies there still.”

“We know,” Wally deadpanned. “There ain’t.”

“But they don’t know that.” Hank slowed the truck, then accelerated through a turn. “Two blocks, bud. Be ready to run.”

“Run?”

“Once we get there, we need to get inside and pray we can lose them.”

“But, Hank…what if the Zulus are inside?”

“One problem at a time, Wally!” Wally paled and reached for the radio. “What are you doing?”

“If I get eaten by a zombie, I want them to know where to place the flowers.” He keyed the radio and called for Hatcher.

Chapter 23

“Do you know what you’re supposed to do?” Hatcher barked. He received a chorus of affirmatives, then ordered the men to man their stations. He walked to the Harley and straddled it.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to lead this insane operation?” Roger asked.

“I don’t want them knowing you survived the Zulu attack. Not yet, anyway.” He switched on the ignition and fired the engine. “Just stay close and keep your lights off. If we can get the drop on them, all the better.”

Roger gave him a mock salute, then climbed into the cab of the larger box truck. He leaned out the window and hollered at Hatcher, “Not too fast. This thing doesn’t handle like that bike does.”

Hatcher gave him a nod, then spun the bike around and pointed it to the staging area. He waited until the guards had pulled the gates open, and then kicked the machine into gear.

It had been years since he’d ridden, and the large bike was awkward. He wobbled a bit as he turned out of the staging area. He goosed the accelerator and had to hang on as the bike shot away.

Roger smiled to himself as he slammed the door on the truck and banged on the side. “You boys ready?” His reply was a bang from the inside. He put the truck into gear and pulled out of the warehouse, pointing the truck in the direction of the taillights ahead of him.

He knew it was just a short distance to the hospital, but the streets were rough and couldn’t be taken too quickly. He could only hope that Simon would hit a pothole and be laid out on the pavement. As much as the idea pleased him, he knew the odds were against such a thing.

Hank slammed on the brakes of the pickup and slid it right up to the EMERGENCY ROOM doors. Both men piled out and bolted for the insides of the building. Wally flipped on a flashlight and threw it across the waiting room and into the Nurse’s Station. The two men ran in the opposite direction and prayed that there was a rear exit that they could slip out of and make their way on foot back to the warehouse.

The roar of multiple V-Twin engines rumbled outside of the building and Hank bit his tongue, praying that the bikes would attract any Zulus in the building.

He grabbed Wally by the sleeve and pulled him inside a room that had a heavy wooden door. He pointed to the window on the opposite side and held a finger up to his mouth.

Wally clicked the lock on the door shut, then turned to Hank. “How are we gonna break that out and them not hear us?” he whispered.

Hank was searching the border of the window, praying that it would open from the inside. He slumped beside the desk and shook his head. “It’s double pane security glass. We ain’t getting out that way.”

Wally hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “That’s the only exit.”

Hank wondered if they could lay low and survive the gang members searching for their lost friend, but knew better when he heard the heavy thud of a door being kicked in down the hall. The crash of glass and men talking loudly to each other told him they feared no man nor beast.

Not even the Zulus.

“I’m sorry, man. I think I screwed us on this one.” Hank sat on the edge of the desk and fondled the pistol in his hand. “I doubt we have enough bullets for this.”

Wally pulled his own pistol and took up a position in the corner behind a filing cabinet. “We’ll catch them in a crossfire.”

Hank gave him a reassuring smile, even though it was too dark to see it. “Sure. Crossfire. Sounds good to me.” He hunkered down behind the desk and pointed the pistol at the door.

“They’re in here someplace,” Simon barked as he kicked over a small table, scattering months’ old magazines across the room. “Search every room.” He pointed down the hallway. “Two of you start searching the rest of the hospital.”

He watched as two men took off in a jog, their flashlights bouncing as they pushed through the double doors. Simon pointed to two more. “Search the left side. You two, search the right. Check every room.”

Simon strode past the Nurse’s Station and picked up the torch. “Yeah, I know you’re in here, you silly bitch. You might tell that man of yours that if he doesn’t come clean, he can watch us skin you alive until he decides that he CAN talk!” He threw the flashlight and felt a certain degree of satisfaction when he heard the distinct sound of breaking glass.

Scud appeared at his side and held his hand up. “There’s an awful lot of blood in the cab of that truck, boss.” He shook his head slowly. “Savage might not have made it.”

Simon turned and gave him a stern stare. “Are you completely stupid?” He smacked Scud upside his head. “Stella’s what? A buck ten? A buck fifteen? And Savage is near three hundred pounds. If he died in the truck, what did she do with his body? Put him in her pocket and run away?”

Scud opened his mouth to reply, then decided it was best to keep it shut. He gave Simon a knowing nod. “You’re right, boss.”

“Of course, I am. Now get your stinky ass in there and find them!”

He pushed Scud toward the hallway and stood back to see what his men might flush out. Scud walked past the first two men who were checking each exam room. He pulled open a door quickly and flashed his light inside. They weren’t in the janitor’s closet. He shut the door and walked across the hallway to another door. “It’s empty, boss.”

“Keep looking, dumbass.”

Simon watched the lights from their flashlights bounce off the walls while his men checked the rooms when the distinct sound of a V-Twin engine caught his attention. He turned and walked back to the entrance. “What son of a bitch rode out here with his lights on? I told you to disconnect all of the lights, Shitstain!”

“I did, boss!” Scud emerged from an exam room with a cotton swab in his ear.

“Then who’s this ignorant son of a…” Simon froze and his eyes widened. He spun and saw the bike accelerate, pointed toward the main entrance.

He dove to the side just as the huge Harley burst through the double glass doors. Simon rolled away and came up with his gun pointed at the machine, searching for its rider.

“Don’t move asshole.”

Simon froze, his gun extended and pointing away from the voice. He relaxed his grip and a smile slowly formed.

“Let me guess. You’re the son of a bitch that was on that chopper, ain’tcha?”

“You’re smarter than you look.”

Simon could hear the glass under the man’s boots crackle as he carefully entered the lobby. He debated whether he could drop and spin fast enough to get the drop on him, but the thought quickly evaporated when the sounds of numerous booted feet approached the building.

“You’ll never get all of my boys.” Simon offered. “They’re smart enough to either ambush you or wait you out.”

Hatcher smiled as he reached around Simon’s shoulder and removed the pistol from his hand. “We don’t have to deal with them.” He pointed toward the main hospital building. “Inside there? That’s zombie central. They’ll take care of your boys for me.”

Simon felt a hand grab the back of his vest and roughly pull him toward the broken double doors. He watched as twenty or so men moved past him and take up position in the lobby.

He glanced toward the hallways and wondered where the hell his people were. He didn’t get to think it for very long before the first shots rang out in the darkness.

Hank listened as the doors were opened and slammed, people yelled at each other and he nearly jumped when it sounded like somebody drove a car through the front of the building. He glanced to the corner where Wally was. “What the hell is that?”

“Sounds like they’re bombing the place.”

Both men stiffened when the doorknob rattled. They heard a muffled thump as somebody threw themselves against the door. Hank pulled the hammer back on his pistol and leveled his aim.

“Let me show you how it’s done,” a voice stated from the hallway. The door exploded inward and a large man in biker leather stepped inside. Hank squeezed the trigger and Wally followed suit.

Neither man heard the yelling from the hallway as the noise from the shots in the enclosed office nearly destroyed their hearing.

Hank stepped out from behind the desk and shots ricocheted off the doorjamb. He returned fire and felt Wally pull him to the corner with him. “Stay out of their fire!”

Hank fumbled with the spare magazine he carried and tried to reload his pistol. Another form stepped into the doorway and Hank dropped the magazine as he thrust his pistol toward the intruder. Nothing happened when he pulled the trigger, but Wally’s gun belched fire in the darkness and the second man fell, grasping his chest.

Hank searched in the darkness for the dropped magazine and nearly pissed himself when a voice ordered them to show their hands. He froze and glanced to Wally who was also caught off guard. Both men slowly stood, holding their weapons out at arm’s length.

“Where’s Savage?” the man yelled.

Hank shook his head and was about to say that he had no idea who that was when the man collapsed at their feet. He looked up and saw Roger standing over the body. “Let’s go, boys. The cavalry has arrived.”

The three men walked towards the front of the building and stepped out into the cool night air.

“Squirrel?” Simon asked.

Roger looked and saw him on his knees beside the box truck, both hands bound behind his back. Hatcher stood over him, his pistol pressed to the base of Simon’s neck, a radio in his hand. “Fall back. We have the target. Leave the rest to the Zulus.”

“What are you going to do with him?” Roger asked.

Hatcher looked down at the man at his feet. “That depends on whether your friend Mike survives.”

Roger’s eyes widened. “You mean you might let him live?”

Hatcher shot him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I never said that. But there are ways to die that are very painful and take a very long time.”

Roger nodded. “I like that idea.”

Simon began chuckling and eventually broke into full-on laughter. Roger stepped closer and lifted him by his leather vest. “What’s so funny, psycho?”

Simon continued to laugh, then suddenly sobered. “You can’t kill me you idiot.”

Hatcher stepped next to him. “Wanna bet?”

Simon laughed again and hooked his chin behind Hatcher. “You need me to deal with them.”

Hatcher and Roger both turned and saw a line of motorcycles coming up the road and approaching the hospital. The sound of their V-Twin engines reverberating off the buildings in the area.

Simon pulled himself to his feet and squared his shoulders. “I called for the rest of the guys when the pickup took off in this direction. I figured they had to be heading to the hospital.” He broke into a toothy grin. “Looks like I guessed right.”

Hatcher groaned. “Son of a…”

Caldera The Series

For years, the biggest threat that Yellowstone was thought to offer was in the form of its semi-dormant super volcano. Little did anyone realize the threat was real and slowly working its way to the surface, but not in the form of magma. Lying deep within the bowels of the earth itself, an ancient virus waited.

Recently credited with the extinction of Neanderthal man, the virus erupts into a crowded Yellowstone. The park is packed with sight seers and party goers during a benefit concert who are all now fodder for the ancient rage virus.

Follow along as Park Rangers and local Sheriff’s find themselves overwhelmed with a park full of infected human cannibals.

Recently credited with wiping out the Neanderthals, an ancient virus is released within Yellowstone National Park and quickly spreads. A desperate plea for assistance reaches the military, but are they coming to help those battling for their lives or to wipe out every living thing in an effort to prevent a second mass extinction?

Follow along with a select group of individuals as they fight for survival. Can they avoid the infected? Can they evade the military called in to help? Can they trust each other?

Will humanity survive the raging cannibals that erupt from within?

Months after an ancient rage virus erupts from the depths of Yellowstone, survivors find themselves scattered. Clinging to life in clusters, hiding from the infected and scavenging from the remnants of humanity, life has evolved to mere survival.

The United States government has attempted to reestablish itself in the last safe place on earth…an offshore flotilla of naval vessels. The last of the CDC’s disease researchers work tirelessly to find a cure, but the virus keeps mutating. They need the original strain from Yellowstone.

Only one man knows the park well enough to escort the military to the source of the virus. Daniel Hatcher is called upon once more to face the threat of Yellowstone. Follow along as they try to survive ground zero.

Months after an ancient rage virus erupts from the depths of Yellowstone, survivors find themselves battling not only the infected, but each other. Predators prey on the weak and strength comes only in numbers.

Government researchers are working tirelessly to find a cure, but time is running out. Over 90% of the world’s population is dead or infected and the number climbs daily.

Follow a select group of survivors as they fight to carve out an existence while defending themselves from rage fueled cannibals and roving bands of marauders.

About the Author

Heath Stallcup was born in Salinas, California and relocated to Tupelo, Oklahoma in his tween years. He joined the US Navy and was stationed in Charleston, SC and Bangor, WA shortly after junior college. After his second tour he attended East Central University where he obtained BS degrees in Biology and Chemistry. He then served ten years with the State of Oklahoma as a Compliance and Enforcement Officer while moonlighting nights and weekends with his local Sheriff's Office.  He still lives in the small township of Tupelo, Oklahoma with his wife and three of his seven children. He steals time to write between household duties, going to ballgames, being a grandfather to five and being the pet of numerous animals that have taken over his home. Visit him at heathstallcup.com or Facebook.com for news of his upcoming releases.

From the desk of Heath Stallcup

A personal note-

Thank you so much for investing your time in reading my story. If you enjoyed it, please take a moment and leave a review. I realize that it may be an inconvenience, but reviews mean the world to authors…

Also, I love hearing from my readers. You can reach me at my blog: http://heathstallcup.com/ or via email at heathstallcup@gmail.com

Feel free to check out my Facebook page for information on upcoming releases: https://www.facebook.com/heathstallcup find me on Twitter at @HeathStallcup, Goodreads or via my Author Page at Amazon.

Also by Heath Stallcup

My stories so far: The Monster Squad Series

The first saga:

Humanity has spent its time enjoying a peace that can only be had through blissful ignorance. For centuries, stories of things that go “bump” in the night have been passed down and shared. When creatures of the night proved to be real, the best of America’s military came together to form an elite band of rapid response teams. Their mission: to keep the civilian populace safe from those threats and hide all evidence of their existence.

This time, they face the largest threat ever to rise against mankind as it prepares its own twisted Apocalypse. The only thing standing in its way is the Monster Squad. Man and monster will fight side by side in an epic battle to the death to try to defeat an evil so great, it could only have been created by the hand of God Himself.

The second saga:

An ancient evil is awakened by a naïve pawn. Planned centuries in advance by fallen angels, the reign of Lilith is put into motion. With a legion of demons at her command, she plans to enact her revenge upon the world’s largest religious group before thrusting herself center stage and taking her seat upon the throne as Queen of the World.

With threats coming at them from every angle, the Monster Squad turns to an ex-member to form a new team—a team made up of the most unlikely warriors to hunt down and face the Demon Queen.

However, when it comes time to remove the Queen in this grand game of chess, will they be able to sacrifice their own game pieces to do it?

Caldera Trilogy

For years, the biggest threat Yellowstone was thought to offer was in the form of its semi-dormant super volcano. Little did anyone realize the threat was real and slowly working its way to the surface, but not in the form of magma. Lying deep within the bowels of the earth itself, an ancient virus waited.

Recently credited with wiping out the Neanderthals, the virus is released within the park and quickly spreads. A desperate plea for assistance reaches the military, but are they coming to help those battling for their lives or to wipe out every living thing in an effort to prevent a second mass extinction? Can humanity survive the raging cannibals that erupt from within?

Whispers Trilogy

How does a sheriff’s department from a small North Texas community stop a brutal murderer who is already dead and buried?

When grave robbers disturb the tomb of Sheriff James ‘Two Guns’ Tolbert searching for Old West relics, a vengeful spirit is unleashed, hell bent for blood. Over a hundred years in the making, a vengeful spirit hunts for its killers. If those responsible couldn't be made to pay, then their progeny would.

Even when aided by a Texas Ranger and UCLA Paranormal Investigators, can modern-day law enforcement stop a spirit destined to fulfill an oath made in death? An oath fueled by passion from a love cut down before its time?

Forneus Corson

Nothing comes easy and nothing is ever truly free. When Steve Wilson stumbles upon the best-kept secret of history’s most successful writers, he can’t help but take advantage of it. Little did he know it would come back to haunt him in ways he’d never have dreamt… even in his worst nightmares.

With his life turned upside down, his name discredited, his friends persecuted, the authorities chasing him for something he didn’t do, Steve finds himself on the run with nothing but his wits and his best friend by his side. When a man finds himself hitting rock bottom, he thinks there’s little else he can do but go up… unless he’s facing an evil willing to dig the hole deeper. An evil in the business of pitting men against odds so great, they risk losing their very souls in the attempt to escape…

Mind Trip

These are just some of the dark and twisted ideas that have run through the mind of Heath Stallcup over the years. Join him in a journey to the darker side of short story fiction.
Mobsters intent on ruling the world reveals that sometimes you just can’t go home.
The release of a zombie virus and the ramifications of trying to hide it.
Sometimes reality isn’t what you think it is. Those noises in the attic may not be rats…
Dwelling on the past can be introspective but refusing to let go will skew your reality.
You know you are about to die. You want nothing more than to protect your loved ones. In a fever induced delirium you lead the threat away from those you care most about.Hunter Trilogy

Born of Viking stock, careered into the Swedish Navy, Sven Ericsson finds himself in the fabled New World. Away from the restraints of society, the young Northman is dragged into long nights of debauchery; nights that lead him into the waiting arms of a dark beauty who will change his very nature forever.
Fighting his new unnatural status, Sven steers clear of humanity, skulking along the fringe of society, and filling his inhuman need with the blood of the outcasts or the easily forgotten. A shadow among the shadows...until extraordinary events, centuries later, force him to emerge from the dark. A mishap of his own making pits Sven Ericsson into a moral quandary that will remind him what it means to be a warrior.
He is a killer. A fighter.

And a Hunter of his own kind.

Check this YA Zombie thriller from JJ Beal.

Lions & Tigers & Zombies, Oh My!

The cold war has heated up again. This time the battle will be fought in every street of America.

Trapped in a major city, hours from their small town country home, a team of young girls find themselves cut off from everyone they know and left to fend for themselves as the world spins out of control.

With nothing but their wits, their softball equipment and their friendship to hold them together, they face incredible odds as they fight their way across the state. Physical, emotional and psychological challenges meet them at every turn as they struggle to find the family they can’t be sure survived. How much more can they endure before reaching the breaking point?

Also From DevilDog Press

Zombie Fallout by Mark Tufo

Nemesis by Suzanne Madron

Prey: Blood of The Ancients By Tim Majka

All That Remain By Travis Tufo

From The Ash By Dave Heron

Mossy Creek A Maggie Mercer Mystery By Jill Behe