'Shit yeah, I know.'
On one side of the street stood the hospital, on the other a four-level parking garage. An overturned ambulance lay on the curb.
The RV pulled behind the ambulance. The men and the K9s jumped out and Trevor led them toward the main entrance. One of the German Shepherds emitted a sharp yap and stared at the parking garage across the street. Hanging over the railing of the garage roof drooped the bent rear rotor blades of a helicopter…
…The stairwell door swung open. Trevor, Jon and several K9s walked out into the sun where the zing of bullets greeted them. They hunkered behind a cluster of parked cars.
Jon growled, 'They shot at us!'
'No wonder, they’ve probably been getting rushed by every monster on the south side.'
By the looks of things, Trevor had a point. The roof served as final resting place for six Ghouls, three giant jellyfish, as well as a lion-thing with an armor-plated head.
Two men leaned against the toppled blue and white helicopter that had smashed into an ancient AMC Matador. They wore black S.W.A.T. BDUs and brandished pistols although empty Mp5s lay near. The metallic smell of expended shells floated over the rooftop battlefield.
Trevor yelled, 'We saw your chopper go down! We’re here to help!'
No answer.
'I’m coming out. I’m putting my gun down.'
Trevor held his empty hands high. Jon fidgeted as if to protest, but held his tongue.
With his palms clearly visible above his head, Trevor stood and walked slowly toward the two men near the helicopter.
The first man appeared to be fifty-something. He watched Trevor’s advance through narrow eyes on a thin face. His mustache, like the rest of the hair on his head, had long ago started the change from black to gray. That man’s left leg bled profusely.
The second, a big, round guy with prematurely thinning hair and a slim mustache, stood.
'Watch whatya doin’. Go real slow-like.'
His complexion matched his accent: a Philadelphia Italian who spoke as much with his hands as his mouth.
Trevor said, 'Looks like your friend needs first aid.'
The older man swallowed hard and said to his companion, 'Have them go looking for Nina and Scott.'
'Shep,' the Italian answered, 'we gotta worry ‘bout you right nows.'
'Can I put my hands down?'
The older man-Shep-spoke to Trevor, 'Sorry ‘bout that. Can’t be too careful.'
Trevor waved to Jon and the K9s. The two police officers eyed the dogs with suspicion.
'It’s okay, they’re with me.' Trevor's assurances meant little to the policemen.
Stone knelt in front of the wounded man.
'How bad is that leg?'
'It’s a fair-size cut. Shoulder hurts, too, but if I don’t stop the bleeding…'
'Understood. We have some medical supplies in our RV. We can get it under control. But we need to get moving, it’s dangerous here.'
'If we coulda moved him we wouldn’t ‘a been sittin’ here like ducks.'
Trevor explained, 'I can’t bring the motor home up here; there’s not enough clearance. Let’s get one of these cars to take you downstairs.'
'Wait a sec,' the older man objected. 'There are two more with us. They made a lot of noise and moved off to draw away a bunch of ugly things. I can’t leave them behind.'
Jon said, 'We didn’t see anyone else. How long they been gone?'
'Been a while,' the Italian answered, 'Half-an-hour or so.'
Jon stated the obvious: 'They might not be coming back.'
The older man said, 'Oh no, Nina will be back. She’s gotten out of tougher scrapes then-'
A shot of pain deteriorated his words into a grunt.
Trevor urged, 'We’ll look for your friends, but first we have to stop that bleeding.'
The two officers shared a glance and-reluctantly-nodded in agreement.
'By the way, my name is Trevor. Trevor Stone. This is Jon Brewer.'
'Thanks for stoppin’ by, Trevor Stone. I’m Jerry Shepherd. This is Sal Corso. Straight from- ouch — Philadelphia.'
Sal sneered, 'With friggin’ love.'
Trevor smashed the window on an old Nissan, eased Shepherd into the rear seat, and slipped the manual shifter out of gear. Sal and Jon pushed the car to the exit ramp and gravity did the rest. The lack of power assist for the steering caused some difficulty as Trevor struggled to keep the wheel from locking. Nonetheless, he maneuvered through the garage and onto the street. Sal, Jon, and the K9s followed on foot.
They helped Shepherd to a bunk inside the RV where Trevor displayed the first-aid expertise of an army medic as he stopped the bleeding then sanitized and bandaged the wound.
The leg needed stitching but three creatures the size of buses approached. At first glance, they resembled an ant/spider hybrid: eight furry legs, six coal-black eyes on an insect’s head, and an abdomen segmented into three parts. One walked along on the pavement pausing to inspect parked cars; the other two crawled sideways on homes peeking in windows.
Trevor retraced Carey Avenue and parked on a grassy stretch near the riverbank. While K9s stood sentry outside, the four men discussed the situation.
After describing the estate, Trevor invited the officers to stay at the mansion.
'That sounds great,' Shep answered. 'But I’m not going anywhere without Nina and Scott.'
'You’re in no position to go looking for them,' Jon said.
'I can rest here.'
Trevor noted that when Shepherd spoke of this Nina woman his eyes sharpened, revealing something greater than simple concern for a fellow human being, but not the desperate longing a man would show for a lover.
Fatherly concern?
'Who is this Nina?' asked Trevor.
'And there’s another guy,' Jon said. 'Scott is his name?'
Sal joked, 'Yeah, but Nina’s as likely to kill him as anythin’ out there.'
Trevor told them, 'There’s a good chance she’s already dead.'
'No.' Shepherd insisted. 'You’re not hearing me, son. Nina will survive until she runs out of ammo or Scott does something stupid. She’s alive; I know it. We have to find her.'
Trevor said, 'Let’s get you back to the estate, stitch you up, then come back later.'
Shepherd refused. 'That won’t do. It’ll be dark in a couple of hours.'
Jon suggested; pleaded, 'Trev, I’ll handle this. Steal a car and take him back. Me and Sal here can go with the dogs and keep searching.'
He stared at Jon and wondered; he wondered what Jon felt he needed to prove.
'I can live with that,' Shepherd said. 'For now.'
Trevor worried Shep's obsession with finding this Nina would cost lives. He understood survival came down to an equation: save people without losing ones already saved. Adding Shep and Sal to the growing estate would be a net win; losing one or both of them-and possibly Jon and several K9s-in a hopeless search did not serve the interest of survival, no matter how noble.
Yet he agreed because it did not seem he had any choice.
'Okay. I’ll take Shepherd back. You and Sal start searching. Let the K9s sniff her and this Scott guy out. We rendezvous here at 7.'
– After hot-wiring a Grand Cherokee, Trevor drove Shep through Plymouth, over the mountain, and to Harveys Lake, avoiding a Devilbat and a slithering Jellyfish along the way.
The estate and the K9s impressed Shepherd as much as Trevor hoped. He introduced the policeman to Lori (who berated Trevor for leaving Jon behind) and Sheila (who whispered hello before running to her room).
