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 t
he 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 a
nd 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.
Countdown to Oblivion Page 10
