“I’ll send the orders,” Nichols confirmed.
“The last thing I need is smart zombies with military training trying to punch holes in our quarantine lines,” Brooks warned. “I want them squashed and I want it done now.”
Chapter Seven
Dave, Zack, and Joe ran for the store. The shattered glass from the destroyed windows blanketed the floor around the entrance. Dave was the first to hit it and nearly went down on the loose surface. Zack caught him by the arm and hoisted him up, preventing him from being sliced to ribbons on the shards. The three negotiated over the scree and Dave kept his eyes open for blood or any other sign someone may have been injured, other than the ones he’d witnessed. The dread sinking in on him was crushing and he prayed Pam had heeded his warning and taken the others to the back of the warehouse. The back wall was pocked with a line of fist-sized craters and Dave had seen what those could do to a person if they’d found a target.
Their feet pounded the floor as they ran down the hall. Dave heard Braxton and Jaxon sobbing and anxious adult voices coming from the break room and feared the worst. He had to stop suddenly and alter his course, causing a minor collision behind him.
As they raced into the break room, Zack spotted Brigette standing near Ben off to the side. He immediately went to his wife, hugging her tightly. They kissed and she assured him she was safe and unharmed, other than a few scrapes she received while busting through the hatch in the ceiling of the warehouse. The rusty mechanism and hinges had delayed her and Ben from getting to the roof. They broke their embrace and Zack kneeled to wrap his arms around the boys, squeezing them tightly as they fidgeted and squirmed.
Pam was standing next to Lynn above the air mattress where Mike laid. Lynn was wringing her hands together and Mike wore the frozen expression of excruciating pain on his face.
“What happened?” Dave shouted, rushing to Pam’s side.
“I’m alright,” Mike croaked. “I wrenched my back diving for cover when the shooting started. What the hell were they firing out there, a cannon?”
“Jesus Christ, Mike,” Dave exclaimed as relief hit him like a bucket of cold water. He suddenly felt exhausted and his muscles ached from the flood of adrenaline that was just ebbing away. “You scared the shit out of me. Is everyone okay?”
“We’re all fine. But Mike may be laid up for a couple of days,” Pam said, grinning from the relief she and the others were sharing in the moment.
“Did you see the shots Ben made?” Brigette asked Zack, who explained he was occupied with hiding for his life when the soldiers started shooting.
“Ben took out three,” she told him.
“Two!” Ben corrected, blurting the word. He didn’t want anyone else knowing he’d killed Carl. Right now, she was the only one who’d been close enough to know he’d taken the shot. That he’d been the one that ended Carl’s life and allowed Dave to keep his.
“Okay,” Brigette replied, looking confused.
“That was two headshots in a row,” Zack exclaimed. “He must have been seventy-five yards away. With open sights, no less!”
“I know, right? The first one took her helmet off and the second one—” Brigette began.
“I don’t need to be reminded,” Ben interrupted her again.
“Where’s Carl and the twins?” Pam asked, searching over his shoulders and around the others, waiting for them to appear in the doorway.
“They’re gone,” was all Dave said before slumping into a chair near the mattress. “We have to go,” he said with a heavy sigh.
“When?” Lynn asked. “Mike’s not even fit to ride in a car, let alone drive one.”
“I’m fine,” Mike repeated with a grimace. Dave couldn’t help noticing his father-in-law didn’t get to his feet to prove his point.
“It doesn’t matter,” Dave said. “They’ll be coming back and we can’t be here when they do.”
“How much time do we have?” Pam asked him.
“An hour. Probably less,” he replied, pushing himself out of the chair and back to his feet.
“But we haven’t gotten you a replacement for your car. We can’t all pile into two with supplies,” Lynn said.
“We don’t have to,” Dave told her, looking to the spot where Carl had made them all coffee and cocoa for the boys. “We’ll take Carl’s.”
“But what’ll he and the…” She let her reply trail off as she noticed their absence.
“We have to get moving,” Dave told them all, steeling his resolve. “I’m going to find Carl’s keys and bring his Jeep around to the loading doors. It’s already been prepped so this shouldn’t take long. Joe and Ben, meet me back there and help load what we can with the stuff from our car. The Jeep was pretty full, so I don’t know how much of our shit’s going to fit in it, but we’ll take what we can. Zack, you and Brigette check out your car and the Mercedes,” he continued, feeling the smallest tingle of energy returning. “Make sure there are no holes punched through the engine blocks or anything and that they’re drivable. Then get the kids loaded up and drive around back. We’ll get Mike loaded into the back of his car and make him as comfortable as possible. Ben, you can drive the Mercedes and Joe will ride with us.”
“Do you mind if Joe drives? I kind of want to talk to you,” Ben said.
“Fine,” Dave told him, noticing something off in Ben’s expression but chalking it up to stress. “Let’s get moving and get the fuck out of here,” he said
Ten painfully long minutes later, Dave was in the driver’s seat of Carl’s Jeep with the engine idling at the front of the store with the others. It’d taken longer than he expected to find the keys. Carl’s body was still warm, and Dave felt his lifeless eyes burning accusatory holes into him as he rifled through the man’s pockets. The body was slick with spilled fluids. Dave did his best to keep as much of Carl’s blood from his hands as he could, and still puked twice digging around in his pockets for the car keys. It was Ben who went to say a final goodbye to CJ and Jacob. He gently closed their eyes with his fingertips, collected their guns for later, and walked around to the back of the warehouse to join the others.
The morning sun was starting to show the first signs of rising and the sky to the east was a deep shade of purple fading to black. It looked like the world had just taken a punch to the face and the inevitable bruise was beginning to swell.
“Are you okay?” Pam asked, setting her hand on his leg. Her skin was warm and reassuring, even through the material of his jeans.
“Don’t know,” he said, gripping the wheel and staring to the West. “If the Army or whoever has barricades on all the roads, we may never make it to Amy and Trav’s.”
“Of course we will,” Pam said, giving his thigh a loving squeeze. She hoped her matter-of-fact tone gave Dave the inkling of hope he desperately needed. “Because no one puts Baby in the corner,” she added, giving him a smile and patting his leg. “Give me some sugar, baby,” she told him and leaned across the center console to kiss him.
“I love you,” he told her when she pulled back.
“How could you not?” she replied.
Dave checked the freshly installed CB to ensure it was on the channel they’d all agreed on and took a second to adjust the side mirror. He shifted the Jeep’s transmission into drive but kept his foot on the brake as he looked again to where Carl and his sons were still lying. He regretted not being able to see to their graves. But he guessed he regretted not to be able to see to Dakota’s final arrangements just as much. He thought about the promise he’d made to himself in the warehouse, before all hell had broken loose. Never again would he make another decision by shooting from the hip that might get someone hurt or killed, and he silently re-avowed that oath. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he caught Ben watching him and saw his eyes were swollen and red, before he quickly looked away. Staring at the radio, he pulled the mic from its cradle. He shifted it around in his hand, trying to think of something to say to get them moving again and maybe, j
ust maybe, give them a little hope they’d see this through.
“Color teams, this is Color Leader,” he said into the handset, stifling the hint of a sob in his voice. “Sound off.”
“This is Red Team,” Bridgette answered from their car. “We’re good to go, over.”
“This is Blue Team,” Joe responded. “The wounded are all strapped in and we’re good to go. Do you want us to take point, Color Leader?” he asked.
“That’s a roger, Blue Team. Just keep heading west on one-fourteen,” Dave replied over the open airwaves, for anyone who might be listening to hear.
The F*cked Series (Book 3): Mean Page 13
