“We’ll have to be extra careful when we leave the coach, Dad.” He took his seat and stowed the crossbow. “There may still be one on top.”
Bob nodded, failing to actually respond. Buck noticed that he seemed paler than before and leaned closer. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” Bob answered, his head swaying slightly to the rocking of the RV. Buck leaned forward and studied him.
“You look really rough. Do you need more Tylenol or some water or something?”
“I’m fine, Buck. I just need to get you kids to safety.” Bob continued to drive as his eyelids began to droop.
“No, you’re not.” Buck came in closer and took another look at him. He pulled up his bag and pulled out his flashlight. Flipping it on, he looked at his dad in the light and nearly gasped. His skin had turned an ashy gray color and his shoulder was dripping blood. “Jesus, Dad,” Buck groaned as he dug in his pack again. His first aid kit was about extinguished of supplies, so he trotted back to the bathroom.
Buck pushed open the door and ignored the blood splattered everywhere. He pulled open the cabinet below and pulled out the box of sanitary napkins. Ripping one from the package, he sprinted back up front and reached over the captain’s chair that his dad drove from.
“This may hurt…” he said as he pressed the absorbent material to the reopened wound.
Bob hissed in pain, but continued driving. Buck leaned back and yelled at Skeeter. “Get some water and grab something for pain.”
“Where would it be?”
“Look in the bathroom. Medicine cabinet,” Buck yelled as he continued to press against the wound.
Bob’s head began to rock back and forth and Buck patted his cheek. “Dad, stop the coach.”
“No… have to get you kids to safety,” he muttered as his eyes fluttered shut.
“Dad!” Buck yelled in his ear and Bob jolted back up, almost swerving into the line of parked cars. “Pull over, I’ll drive.”
Bob chuckled weakly. “You can’t drive,” his voice croaked. “You’re too young.”
“Stop the coach!”
Bob fought the urge to push on and brought his foot up to the brake. As soon as the coach was stopped, Buck reached up and pulled the air brake. He looked at Skeeter who had just returned with a bottle of water and something rattling in a smaller bottle. “Help me with him. Let’s get him to the bed.”
Together, the two kids dragged Bob to the foldout bed and laid him out across it. “Watch him for me, okay? Just hold this on his wound and give him as much water as he can swallow,” Buck said, his eyes filled with worry.
He turned and went up to the pilot’s seat. Releasing the air brake, Buck pushed down on the accelerator and began driving the giant RV. His nerves were quickly put to the test as the cars dotting the sides of the road began to quickly narrow and close in on him. He hit the high beam on the headlights and looked ahead. His stomach quickly fell through the floor as his eyes fell on something he hadn’t expected.
Parked in the middle of the road sat a car, its hood up. With cars lining each side of the road, and this car parked in the middle, there was no place for him to go. He’d either have to back up over a half mile, in the dark, through winding uphill rocky roads with zombies on his tail…or go through the roadblock. Stopping here and hiking out the rest of the way wasn’t an option. Even if his dad were in better condition, these things moved way too fast.
He glanced back at Skeeter tending to his dad. “Tell me something?” Buck asked.
“What’s that?” Skeeter replied.
“Is it better to gain speed and ram through a roadblock, or move up to it slowly and push it out of the way?”
“Depends on the roadblock, I guess.” Skeeter wiped at Bob’s brow with a damp rag. “What is it?”
“A car,” Buck sighed as he began to slow down.
“A what!” Skeeter screeched as she jumped up and ran to the front. “Oh, no.”
“Yeah.”
“Where would you push it to?”
“I don’t know. Into the others? Off to the side?”
Skeeter wrapped her arms around Buck’s neck. “We’re screwed, aren’t we?”
“Say again your position,” the tinny voice repeated over the speaker.
Hatcher rolled his eyes and keyed the microphone once more.
“I’m sitting inside Watchtower Sierra one-oh-two,” he repeated in a slow and deliberate voice. “Two others have left on all-terrain vehicles in order to lead the attackers away. Proceed with due caution, but please send assistance!” Hatcher released the key on the microphone and leaned back in the chair with a heavy sigh. Why was dealing with military people so much trouble?
“Wait one,” the tinny voice responded.
Hatcher turned up the volume on the radio and stepped away for a moment, stretching his legs. His back ached and his head throbbed from a lack of sleep along with too many adrenaline rushes. He peered over the edge and saw three dark figures clawing at the base of the tower, trying to climb the long, rough-cut timber that made the supports. Shaking his head, he stepped back and into the darkness of the tower. The grand majority had followed the ATVs as Mitch thought they would. He only hoped they didn’t run into any trouble along the way.
Hatcher heard static as the radio keyed back to life and he quickly slid back into the chair. He wrapped his hand around the microphone as a different voice filled the speakers, rattling them until he turned the volume back down. “This is Colonel Vickers of the Air National Guard, state your name and the nature of your emergency.”
Hatcher’s shoulders drooped as the wind blew out of his sails. “With all due respect, colonel, I’ve already explained the nature of my emergency at least
