She tried not to replay last night’s attack, or worry too much about getting out. Garrett had collected a small cache of sodas and sports drinks, but it wasn’t enough to keep five people hydrated indefinitely.
They’d have to take it one day at a time.
She fretted over her patients, both of whom might die without proper care. The situation was a paramedic’s worst nightmare. She didn’t have the expertise or the equipment to save them. They needed to be hospitalized.
While she was changing a bag of IV fluids, another aftershock rocked the structure.
Heart racing, she held the bag steady and glanced upward, hoping the ceiling wouldn’t come tumbling down. It didn’t, but the malfunctioning car alarm started going off again.
Don and Garrett went to see if they could dismantle it. Lauren still had her hands full when a man staggered out of the dark, startling her.
It was one of the convicts. Not Jeb or Mickey, but the young man with blond hair and blackened eyes. He’d regained consciousness.
He was taller than she’d figured, over six feet. Even without the bruises, he’d have looked intimidating. His hands and neck were covered with tattoos. He wore a bleak expression, as if he couldn’t believe the devastation around him.
Cadence burst through the side door of the motor home. When she saw him, she stopped and stared, her eyes wide.
“Water,” he rasped.
Penny appeared at the door also. She told Cadence to get back inside.
The man did a double take when he saw Penny. Lauren wasn’t sure if he was reacting to her late-stage pregnancy or her uncommon beauty, but he appeared dumbfounded. “Do you have any water?” he repeated.
Lauren hurried to change the IV bag.
Cadence reached into a box beside the RV for a bottle of water. She unscrewed the cap and stepped forward with the simple offering. As he accepted the plastic bottle, the girl saw the bold black swastika on his hand.
Her face changed from cautious to stricken. She recognized the symbol, and knew what it meant.
Lauren’s heart broke for her.
Cadence backed away, retreating to the safety of the RV. Penny put her arm around Cadence’s shoulders and gave the man a cold look.
He drank all the water, his throat working in long gulps. Although he seemed disoriented, he also appeared apologetic, as if he regretted offending them with his presence. Thirst overruled shame, however, and he drank every drop.
Garrett returned with Don, holding a crowbar at his side. He studied the newcomer in an openly adversarial manner.
Lauren finished with the IV and came forward. She remembered the young man’s name: Owen. Did he know what his comrades had been up to last night? Was he a sexual predator, as well as a convict and a racist?
Unfortunately, those questions went unanswered.
Jeb’s voice rang out from the back of the cavern. “Get some food, Owen.” He flicked on a flashlight to reveal his location. He was standing next to an empty car, gun shoved in the waistband of his pants.
Owen flinched at the command, as if he didn’t like being ordered around. But Jeb had the gun, so he was in charge. The younger man scanned the group he’d been told to steal from, and found no sympathizers. His gaze settled on Garrett, their obvious leader.
“We’ll share on one condition,” Garrett said, speaking directly to Jeb.
Jeb smirked. “What’s that?”
“Keep your boys in line. No more...visits.”
Lauren frowned at the innocuous-sounding characterization. Mickey had sexually assaulted her, not dropped in uninvited for tea.
Jeb seemed insulted by Garrett’s suggestion that he didn’t have control over his cronies. “I don’t think Mickey’s up for another visit, thanks to you. But we’ll stay out of your hair.” He winked at Lauren. “Ma’am.”
When Garrett nodded, Don packed up a box of their much-needed supplies.
She wondered if Owen was cut from the same cloth as Mickey and Jeb. Maybe he didn’t want to do this. Clearly, he had no choice. When Don handed him the box, Owen fumbled for a moment, almost spilling the contents on the ground. With a terse thank-you, and one last glance at Penny, he returned to his crew.
Lauren moved to stand beside Garrett, her hands clenched into fists. The lines between factions had been drawn. Their side had a lot more to lose.
Feeling helpless, she looked up at Garrett. Yesterday, Jeb had been spoiling for a fight. They might try to isolate Garrett and take him out. Without him in the picture, Jeb would have free rein. Lauren and Don couldn’t stand up to three men with a gun.
“What’s to stop him from shooting at you?” she asked.
“Common sense.”
“I don’t trust him.”
He deliberated for a moment. “I’ll clear more space around the RV so there’s nothing to hide behind. Don and I will take turns keeping watch.”
She nibbled her lip, worried.
“He’s not going to shoot at me, Lauren.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m the best chance they have of escaping. I’m collecting all the resources, doing all the work.”
Lauren didn’t have to ask what would happen when their resources were gone. She already knew. If they ran out of water, they wouldn’t have to worry about getting shot. They’d die of thirst in three days.
CHAPTER FOUR
GARRETT NEEDED A gun.
He’d already looked near the northeast corner, where the prisoner transport vehicle had been. Jeb must have taken the 9mm from the guard, but Garrett couldn’t find him. He’d probably been crushed under the wall of concrete during the first aftershock.
Lauren accompanied Garrett to search the cars for supplies. He hoped one of the glove compartments would yield a weapon. He should have thought of this yesterday. Then he would have been able to prevent the attack.
“Did you see the way Owen stared at Penny?” she asked.
Garrett kept the RV in sight as he attempted to pry open a trunk with his crowbar. It hadn’t escaped his attention that Penny was easy on the eyes. Owen had taken a good look. “What about it?”
“I’m worried that the convicts won’t stay away like they promised. Especially now that they’ve seen her.”
He continued to wrestle with the trunk, sweat dampening his forehead. The vehicle was half-crushed, which made it difficult to open.
“Maybe they’ll come after her next.”
“I hope not,” he said. “But if they do, I’ll be more prepared.”
Garrett knew he had his work cut out for him. He was trapped in a collapsed structure with two beautiful women, and a group of men who hadn’t touched one in years. Jeb and Mickey apparently had no qualms about rape. They’d probably have gone after anything female, but Lauren’s sexy figure didn’t help matters. Garrett had tried not to notice her as a woman, and failed. His mouth went dry whenever she got close to him.
Penny was too young and too...pregnant...for his tastes. She had a full-grown baby inside her. He couldn’t be certain how the other men felt, but he hoped her condition would be a powerful deterrent against assault.
“What about Cadence?”
The crowbar almost slipped from his grip. “No,” he said, sickened by the thought. “They wouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
He stopped messing around with the trunk and leveled with her. “There’s a code against hurting kids in prison. Pedophiles get the same done to them�
�or worse.”
She didn’t ask how he knew that. “We’re not in prison. Whatever rules they follow in there don’t apply.”
Garrett didn’t necessarily agree. This was very much like prison. They’d already established a hierarchy and formed alliances. After living the same routine day by day, rules and structures weren’t easily shed. “You’re the most desirable target,” he said flatly. “If anything, they’ll make another move on you.”
Her cheeks paled. He suspected that she felt more comfortable focusing on the well-being of others. So did he, but he’d learned the hard way to put himself first. Dead men couldn’t save anyone else.
She stared at the RV, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, I should warn them anyway.”
“Good idea. Tell them exactly what happened to you.”
Her soft mouth twisted into a frown.
Garrett turned his attention back to the crumpled trunk, concentrating on creating a wedge for the crowbar. He didn’t want to replay the events from last night in his head. Seeing her in a state of dishabille had disturbed him on many levels. He had to admit that not all his feelings toward her were protective.
How different was he from Jeb and Mickey?
He’d been in dark places and done terrible things. Situations like this turned good men into animals. Maybe there was a reason she’d thought it was him attacking her. He was certainly capable of violence. And—he wanted her. A primitive part of him had been excited by her torn clothes and exposed flesh.
Putting all his frustrations into the task at hand, he wrenched the trunk open with a grunt of exertion.
Jackpot.
The owner of this vehicle was Lauren’s coma patient. He’d been wearing hiking boots, and he had a national parks pass. His truck was full of climbing gear.
“What’s that?” Lauren asked.
He removed a backpack loaded with carabiners, ropes and pulleys. “It might be our way out of here,” he said, glancing at the narrow crack that snaked along the easternmost wall of the structure. A few stories up, near the top, there was a crevice that appeared wide enough to stick his arm through.
“You can’t be serious,” she said, following his gaze.
“We can fit an SOS flag through there. If the roads are blocked, our best chance of being seen is from the air.”
“Are you an experienced climber?”
“No, but I’ve done some parachuting.”
“Well, that’s practically the same thing,” she said with false brightness. “Collapsed freeway, open sky. We’re saved!”
He smiled at her sarcasm, taking no offense. “I meant that I’m familiar with heights and safety gear. Pararescue is all about rope work. But there’s no guarantee anyone will notice our flag, even if I can get up there.”
She moistened her lips, glancing from the cracked concrete to the dark corner where their opponents resided. He knew what she was thinking. They’d be vulnerable to an attack while he attempted an ascent.
He rifled through the contents of the trunk, shelving the climbing plan for later. “First we need to find a CB radio.”
“What about cell phones?”
“We can’t count on service coming back. Power might be out indefinitely.”
Garrett found a duffel bag with the climber’s personal belongings, a change of clothes and identification. “Sam Rutherford,” he read on the driver’s license. Inside the duffel there was a strange object, like a dusky-gold vase.
Lauren reached out to touch it. “That’s an urn.”
He noted a woman’s name was engraved on the side before he put it back. “Maybe he was going somewhere to spread the ashes.”
The climber also had a canvas tent and some camping supplies, along with a desert-style camel pack. Garrett slung the pack over his shoulder and released the drinking tube, filling his mouth with fresh water. It was amazing how thirsty one could get when fluids were scarce. He wanted to drink and drink and drink.
Instead he offered the tube to Lauren. She stood on tiptoe to reach, placing her hand on his shoulder. Her breasts pressed against his arm. While he watched, entranced, her lips closed around the tube, her cheeks hollowing slightly as she sucked.
Only a horny bastard would continue to stare, and think dirty thoughts, at a time like this. He dragged his gaze away from her pretty mouth and slender throat, but even the sound of her swallowing struck him as erotic.
Focus on something else, Garrett. He grappled for a new topic and found only a random Dune quote: “‘Your water shall mingle with our water.’”
She laughed, patting his shoulder. “Thanks, Fremen.”
Shaking his head at himself, he added the climbing gear to the supplies he’d stockpiled yesterday. They had crates, blankets, first-aid kits, empty containers, rope, tools and a number of other items that might prove useful.
But what they needed most, other than water—and a weapon—was a way to communicate with the outside world.
“Where should we search next? Use your Bene Gesserit powers.”
She smiled at the idea. “If I’m Lady Jessica, who are you?”
“Duke Leto,” he said, naming her lover.
“He dies.”
“Oh. Right. That’s okay.” Totally worth it.
Giving him a weird look, she pointed to the west side of the structure. “I think I saw a semitruck over there. Just the cab.”
Now that she mentioned it, he remembered walking by the Kenworth. Stress and lack of sleep, or maybe sensory overload, had caused the semi to slip from his mind. “Perfect,” he said. “Truckers always have radios.”
She had to check on her patients again, so he went to a far corner and unzipped his pants. The women had been using the bathroom in the RV, and flushing infrequently to save water. He preferred this, more primitive method, though neither was ideal.
When he was finished, he rejoined Lauren in front of the motor home. The temperature inside the collapsed freeway had been comfortable all morning, but now it was heating up. Her cheeks were flushed, her forehead shiny with perspiration.
“I need something else to wear,” she said, taking off her jacket.
He waited while she found a clean tank top in the pile of supplies. Rather than going inside the RV to change clothes, she ducked behind it, shrugging out of the torn uniform shirt. Garrett caught a glimpse of her naked shoulders, bisected by thin bra straps. He averted his gaze, feeling heat creep up his neck. When she put on the top and turned around, he tried not to notice the soft white cotton molded to her breasts.
She didn’t match his mental picture of the regal, dark-haired Lady Jessica. With her sun-streaked blond ponytail, ocean-blue eyes and perky figure, she looked more like a bikini model. Or a sexy lifeguard. She was lovely.
The Kenworth cab was sitting near the south edge of the structure, unoccupied. Perhaps that was why it hadn’t tripped his radar. Over the past twenty-four hours, he’d been focused on bodies, dead or alive.
“Where do you think the driver went?” Lauren asked.
Garrett shrugged. There were several empty cars beneath the structure. He assumed that some of the inhabitants had abandoned their vehicles, only to be crushed by debris during the first aftershock. If Garrett had gone the opposite direction, he’d have been buried alive himself. “Maybe he escaped.”
The Kenworth appeared no worse for the wear. Many of the other vehicles inside the structure had been smashed beyond recognition. He opened the driver’
s-side door of the semi and climbed inside. The interior was clean and organized. It had a sleeper cab, with a narrow bed in the back, and a shiny black CB radio under the dash.
The keys dangled from the ignition.
Flashing a grin at Lauren, he sat down and fired it up. The engine roared to life. Garrett realized that they’d found a pot of gold. The truck could be used for communication, shelter, even transportation.
He rose to check the glove compartment, his pulse accelerating with hope. Unfortunately, it didn’t contain any weapons.
Lauren came in to investigate. Brushing by him, she scanned the sleeping area. Their eyes connected for a moment. She glanced away quickly, clearing her throat. While he turned on the radio, she searched the contents of the cab for any supplies they could use.
Garrett didn’t find a clean channel. There was nothing but static and interference. He picked up the receiver anyway, handing it to Lauren.
After a short hesitation, she sat down in the passenger seat and pressed the talk button. “This is Lauren Boyer of San Diego, California. We have an emergency situation and need immediate help.” She paused. “Over.”
“Tell them where we are,” he said.
“We’re trapped in a freeway collapse at the Interstate 8 and Highway 163 connection. There are ten survivors, some critically wounded. Please respond, over.”
Her plea was met with the flat crackle of white noise. They waited a few minutes, and she repeated the message, with no success.
“Morse code might work better,” he said. “It can be heard at long distances when voice communication isn’t viable.”
She set aside the receiver, her hands trembling. Garrett understood how she felt. They were on an emotional roller coaster. The ups and downs were more difficult to stomach than a steady barrage of bad news.
“Want to go for a ride?” he asked.
Aftershock Page 5
