“Are you kidding? I usually sit behind my PS3 console to kill zombies.” She smiled at him and he felt something…different.
“Join the club,” Buck said, glancing around trying not to stare at her. “I suppose there’s a slight chance that someone left keys in one of these cars, but if we do find something like that, as soon as we start it, it’s going to be like ringing the dinner bell for everything with red eyes out there.”
Skeeter nodded, but then shot him a smile. “It might pull some of them away from the motorcoach.” She shrugged.
Buck gave her a grim look. “Somehow, I doubt they were kept out for very long.” He turned away from her to hide the concern on his face. “We split up. You take this side of the road and I’ll take the other. If you find anything, just holler and I’ll come to you. I’ll do the same.”
Skeeter’s eyes widened at the idea of separating, but she said nothing as he broke away and darted across the road, leaving her alone to search her side. She watched him go from car to car, trying the door handles of each one. She went to the closest car and tried the handle. Locked. Staying low, she hurried to the next vehicle and tried it. As soon as she tried the door handle, the interior lights came on, but the door remained locked. She stifled a yelp as she sprinted to the next car.
She kept glancing back over her shoulder to see if anybody had noticed or was approaching the vehicle, but so far, the area was free of dark, sprinting figures, and no screams broke the silence of the night. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding when she lifted the door handle of the next car. Locked. Scooting farther down the line, she tried the next and the next, but both were locked. She was about to consider their attempts an effort in futility as she reached the next car and tried the door handle. The interior lights came on, as did the headlights, and the car alarm sounded in tandem with the vehicle’s horn. She stood in shock as the siren sounded and the lights flashed, and she knew that anything within miles would hear it. Her head jerked toward Buck who was now up and sprinting down the line, trying every car door he came to. She took off at a dead run, following suit.
She finally came to an old pickup truck, and not only was the door unlocked, the window was down. She pulled open the door and slipped her head inside, looking for keys. They weren’t hanging from the ignition, so she pulled down the visor like she saw in the movies. Nothing. Dammit. They were always there in the movies. She looked in the floor, under the mat, then she pulled open the ashtray. BINGO! She fumbled with the keys and finally found the right one. Jumping into the truck, she turned the key and heard the engine turn over. With a loud roar, the motor caught, and she pulled the transmission lever into reverse, backing into the car behind her. She cut the wheel and pulled the transmission lever into drive, then gunned the engine, pulling out onto the dirt road. She flipped on the lights and slammed on the brakes, barely missing Buck as the lights illuminated him in the middle of the road.
Buck slammed both hands on the hood of the truck just as it came to a stop in front of him, the dust and dirt rising into the headlights, casting him in an eerie glow. He suddenly disappeared, and she sat up in the seat, looking for him. She nearly screamed when he pulled open the passenger door and jumped in.
“Let’s go! They’re coming!”
Skeeter turned and looked over her shoulder for just a moment and saw dozens of very fast-moving figures bouncing from car to car or running full out down the dirt road. More than one had stopped at the car with the alarm going and was beating on the windows, trying to get in. She stomped her foot on the accelerator and the powerful V-8 engine pulled them both back in the seat as the truck roared out onto the dirt road.
“Easy, hot rod!” Buck yelled. “Don’t wreck us before we get out of here.” He laughed as she pitched the truck from one side to the other. He was amazed at how much wider the road seemed from a pickup truck rather than from the seat of the giant motorcoach.
“This isn’t so easy you know,” she screamed from the driver’s seat. “I’ve only driven once in my life, and it was just to back my mom’s Honda down the driveway!”
Buck shot her a smile. “How far was that?” He watched her as she bounced the truck off the rear fender of a very expensive looking Mercedes.
“About fifteen feet,” she admitted. “Maybe twenty.” She overcorrected again and slid the rear end into the side of a minivan.
Buck laughed as he slid across the seat and into the door. “You’re not doing too bad,” he yelled over the roar of the engine. “But you might want to slow down a bit.”
Skeeter slammed on the brakes and Buck slid into the dashboard while Skeeter bounced off the steering wheel, sounding the horn when she did so. When she bounced back, she rubbed at her head. “Oh, my…that hurt!”
Buck picked himself up from the floorboard and slid over next to her. “Trade me,” he offered. “I’ve had a little more practice.” Skeeter slid out from the wheel and the truck rolled slightly forward while Buck slipped in behind the wheel. He glanced in the rearview mirror, then goosed the gas pedal again. “They’re coming.” He did his best to put distance between them.
“What if we can’t lose them before we get to the ranger place?” Skeeter tried not to turn around and look behind them. “I mean, what if they follow us all the way there?”
“Then we lock it up tight and try to wait them out,” Buck said as he stared at the road. He kept increasing his speed until he didn’t think he could control the truck if he pushed it any further, then backed off a little. “We’re not too far. As long as we can make it inside and lock the doors.”
Skeeter finally turned and stared out the back window, looking for crazy people. She suddenly turned to Buck, her eyes wide. “What if the doors are locked when we get there?”
Buck shook his head rapidly. “One problem at a time.”
Hatcher was livid. He had been unceremoniously dragged from his own office by uniformed men, then chained to the stairs of the Sheriff’s Department Mobile Unit, then, after more choppers showed up, people in white space suits dragged him to a makeshift tent, stripped him down, sprayed him with something that smelled like bug killer mixed with glass cleaner, checked him in places that nobody but his momma had ever seen, and gave him a shot without his permission.
“Immunity booster, my ass,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
They tossed him what looked like an orange prison jumpsuit and he told them to kiss his ass. He marched, bare-assed naked across the grounds and back to the locker room where his spare uniform was. He was a ‘by-God Park Service Ranger,’ and he would wear the uniform. As he sat in the locker room getting dressed, a female officer entered and tried to question him. She was a major or something. He was too mad to remember, but he did get an ounce of joy by throwing her out on her cute little derrière.
After he laced up his old boots, Hatcher searched for a duty belt and came up empty. The bastards had stripped him of his weapon and duty belt and he didn’t have a spare. He went down each line of lockers and came up empty there, too. He would have thought that surely Fisher would have an extra…that’s it! Fisher’s gun they had found in the woods! Hatch turned and started to go to the ATVs, then realized, Mitch had taken his ATV at the watchtower. He didn’t have it any longer. He stopped in his tracks and cursed himself. Hatcher was just about to punch the wall when he remembered, no…he had put Fisher’s gun into the back of the ATV he was riding when he and Shelly went out. When he and Olson left, they took fresh ones from the maintenance shed. He had left the ATV with Fisher’s weapon in it parked in front of the Ranger Station. Smiling to himself, Hatcher stepped out of the locker room behind the maintenance area and strode across the ‘compound’ that the military was creating.
Hatcher kept his head forward, but his eyes scanned the entire area as men worked at a hurried pace, erecting tents with tube connections, setting up decontamination centers, medical suites, another tent that had to be an armory, what with the security that was aroun
d it. Vehicles began pouring in from up the mountain and Hatcher knew this wasn’t just a search and rescue anymore. They really were going all out.
As he continued across the area, he saw a group of soldiers outfitted for war huddled together, one man speaking to them in hushed tones. Apparently, they had radio headsets, otherwise they couldn’t hear him. His voice was too low, and there were far too many of them. However, one thing he did notice sent a chill up his spine. To the man, they each had a set of night vision goggles strapped to their helmets.
Hatcher hurried his pace as he strode past the group, doing his best to act as if he had a purpose. He never wavered when he heard the leader instruct his men, ‘Do not allow yourself to be bit or scratched. No contact with bodily fluids or…’ but no matter how hard he strained his ears, he couldn’t hear the rest of the instructions. He refused to slow his pace or stop to listen. He would do nothing to draw attention to himself.
Hatcher approached the ATV and went straight to the rear storage compartment. He opened it up and dug around in the rear until his hand found the grip of Fisher’s 1911. He slipped it out of the compartment and into the back of his pants, allowing his shirt to fall over it. For once, he was going to allow his shirt to remain untucked.
“And what do you think you’re doing?” a familiar voice asked.
Hatcher didn’t need to look up to know that Colonel Vickers was leaning against the door of the station. He also didn’t need to look up to know that the lid to the storage compartment had concealed his actions. He pulled a Maglite from the compartment and shut the lid. “Your people stripped me of my gear.” he said, meeting the man’s gaze. “I don’t suppose I’ll be getting it back.”
Vickers smiled and Hatcher hoped the bastard’s face would crack. “No,” he said, inflicting as much finality into the single syllable word as he could.
Hatcher shrugged. “Fine.” He stepped up onto the ATV. “Then I guess I go out with just a flashlight and my dick in my hand.”
“I haven’t given you permission to leave this area, Mr. Hatcher.” Vickers pushed away from the doorjamb.
“And I didn’t ask for it,” Hatcher said. “In case you’ve forgotten, this is still my park. I’m still the ranger in charge, and those are my people out there. I intend to get them back here safe,”
Vickers stepped away from the doorway and intercepted Hatcher. “I can’t let you do that, Mr. Hatcher.”
Hatcher reached behind him and brought the .45 up to Vicker’s forehead. “You can’t stop me,” he said as he started the ATV.
Vickers recoiled slightly and held his hands up. “It’s your funeral, Mr. Hatcher,” he said quietly, waving him off with his hand.
“Yeah. I thought maybe you’d change your mind.” Hatcher tucked the .45 back into his waistband. He shoved the flashlight into the handlebars and accelerated out of the parking area and past the crews who were hurriedly transforming this part of his park.
As his ATV shot off into the darkness, Major Chappell stepped out of the shadows. “Should I order him shot, sir?”
Vickers considered the option, but shook his head. “No,” he said quietly. “If the infected don’t get him, then we’ll shoot him when he returns.”
“Hey, wait!” Candy shouted above the sound of their engines. She braked the ATV and swerved to the side, swinging the headlight around.
“What is it?” Mitch yelled, pulling his sidearm and scanning each way. “Did you see one of them?”
“No, better. Look!” She pointed off and down through the trees. “Can we get down there?”
Mitch pulled his ATV around and looked over the edge of the road to where she was pointing. He could see into a campsite, with an ambulance parked next to a tent. “I’m not sure.” His mind started going through the aerial maps he’d studied. “I’m sure we can, I’m just not sure how.”
Fisher leaned forward and said, “The woods are a little less dense back there. We might could navigate through them there.”
Mitch shot her a questioning look. “But why you want to be going there? The road will take us all the way around.”
“The ambulance,” she said, as if he were daft. “I used to be an EMT. Fisher has a broken arm. I know there should be supplies onboard that thing I can use to help him.”
Mitch shot a glance at Fisher who only shrugged. “I could use a little relief, man.”
Mitch sighed and nodded. “Okay, we’ll give it a try.” The two backtracked to where the woods were a little less thick and slowly drove through the thirty yards of forest to the campgrounds on the other side. As they pulled out of the brush that lined the road on the other side, Mitch had his pistol out and was scanning the area. “Just try to be quick, okay?”
They parked the ATVs next to the ambulance and Candy hopped into the back. “Something really bad happened in here,” she said as she dug through the multiple drawers of supplies.
“What do you mean?” Fisher tried to stick his head in.
“I mean, don’t be sticking your head in here,” she warned. “You might lose your lunch.” She hopped out of the ambulance and set the supplies on the ground. She turned to Fisher. “Ever have a broken bone set before?”
He shook his head. “Never had a broken bone before. This hurts like you wouldn’t believe.”
She patted his shoulder. “It’s going to get worse before it gets better.”
Dwayne’s eyes widened. “Hey, you know I can wait ’til we get to a hospital.”
She smiled at him. “That might be a while, considering the circumstances. And the way your arm is swelling, it would be best if we do this now. The longer we wait, the worse it will get.” She began spreading the supplies out on a plastic bag. “Trust me. A little pain now for a lot more relief in a little bit.”
Fisher shot a worrying glance at Mitch. “Does she know what she’s doing?”
Mitch shrugged. “Beats me, bro,” he said. “But I can tell you from experience, the best docs I ever had were field medics in the military, so, take that for what it’s worth.”
Fisher inhaled deeply and blew it out. “Okay, then. What the hell. Let’s do this.”
“That’s my boy.” She patted his shoulder as she sat him on the ground. “Now, lucky for you, you only broke your ulna. Had it been the radius, you’d be in a lot worse trouble,” she commented as she prepared a hypodermic needle.
“Aw, do I have to have a shot?”
“Trust me,” she winked slyly. “You’ll wish I had given you two of these in a minute. But we’re going to need you to walk out of here, so this is all you get.” She stuck the needle in his arm and he winced, then he hissed as she depressed the plunger.
“That burns.”
“Only for a moment,” she said softly. “Tell me when it stops hurting.” She began opening other packages. She pulled out a flat metal bar and curved it slightly with her hands. She had him hold his arm out and shaped it to fit his arm with it bent slightly.
Fisher’s eyes got somewhat glassy and he smiled at her. “You’re pretty.”
Olson glanced at Mitch. “I think it’s kicked in,” she said with a smile. “I’m going to need your help.”
Mitch shrugged. “How can you tell?” He stepped over closer. “He’s right. You are pretty.”
With that comment, she blushed and turned her face from him. She had to concentrate on what she was doing for a moment and told Mitch to hold Fisher down. She explained they would need to ‘pull’ his arm from the wrist and sort of ‘stretch’ it so that when it was released, the bone would go back into its original place. She also explained this would hurt. A LOT. And even though she had given him a pain killer, he would come unglued.
“As big as he is, and as strong and muscular as he is, I don’t know if I can do it,” she admitted softly.
Fisher giggled and stared at her chest. “You can do whatever you want to me.”
Mitch gave him a dirty look. “You mean like this?” He placed a foot on Fisher’s chest and grabbed
his arm, jerking it hard and straight up until the man howled, then he snapped it back.
Fisher appeared to pass out from the action. Olson stared at him a moment, slightly in shock from the speed and fluidity of his movement, but she nodded her head. “Yeah. Exactly.” She swallowed hard, then stared at Mitch. “Can you sit him up? Gently?”
Mitch smiled. “That I can do.”
She held Fisher’s arm while Mitch sat him up on the ground. She placed a thick pad under his arm, then the bent metal bar under his elbow, and had Mitch hold it in place while she began wrapping it with an ACE bandage. It took three to properly wrap his large arm, but when she was done, she was pretty proud of the work. “I think that will do it.”
Mitch looked at her and smiled. “Not bad. Only one problem, Doc.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“I ain’t carrying his big, dumb ass out of here.”
She chuckled and pulled up a small vial. Cracking it under Fisher’s nose and waving it, he jerked away from her, coughing. She looked at Mitch. “Smelling salts.”
Fisher tried to wave her away with his broken arm and snapped instantly awake. “Ow, sonofasmokinwhoreinchurch!”
Mitch laughed at the outburst and let the man go. Fisher caught himself and sat on the ground, woozy. “What the hell?” He was obviously still very woozy.
“We need to go,” Candy said.
“My head is spinning. I can’t move,” Dwayne said as his eyelids tried to flutter shut.
A scream in the woods behind them shattered the stillness of the night. Mitch was instantly up and with pistol drawn. “You best get your ass up or I’m leaving you as a distraction!”
Fisher was rolling to his side and fighting to get his feet under him. “I hear you,” he cursed as he staggered up. “Son of a…I can barely move.”
“I got you.” Candy slipped his good arm over her shoulder. “We need to get moving.” She directed him back to her ATV and helped him on it. “Can you hang on?”
Caldera Book 2: Out Of The Fire Page 5