Finally, they reach the terra firma with more than a little force. Jim’s arms are shaking from being strained, and he fumbles around releasing the belt holding Royce to him. Once unattached, they both collapse to the grass and lie on their backs breathing heavily, staring up at the window and exterior of the hospital they just emerged from.
Their short rest is over when Jim stands and extends his hand to assist Royce to his feet. Taking the hand, Royce rises and thanks Jim. “My brother still gets some of your blood, you know that, right?” Jim says and stares hard at Royce. “Yes he does,” Royce answers and hands Jim his two belts. “Your drawers are falling down, Jim. Better get one of these back on.”
Donning both belts, his thigh-holster, and then replacing the pistol, Jim points Royce toward the direction of the parked MRAP around the corner from their location. As they walk, they quietly talk, and both have their heads on a swivel. The sun is nearly set, so Jim encourages Royce to pick up the pace to a jog. They near the corner of the building and round the corner. Royce notices the wide-eyed Jim looking around and asks, “What’s wrong?” Jim doesn’t reply, he continues to look around. He knows this is the spot and he doesn’t know why or how. The MRAP is gone.
# # #
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J.G. Hicks, Jr.
Omega Pathogen: Mayhem Page 18
