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 he
lped 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.”
Countdown to Oblivion Page 11