hazard inside the magazine and the enormously high levels of contamination the bodies were likely to carry. By bagging the bag, as it were, the hazard posed by their package to whoever was going to do the pathology work would be greatly reduced. When the doctor finally opened the package, he’d need to practice the same precautions as he would if he were dealing with the victim of a viral infection.
The absence of plant life spooked Nick. He’d hoped that enough time had passed for Mother Nature to begin to mitigate damages in her own way. Not that there weren’t a few hopeful signs. He noticed, for example, the absence of dead animals. If the dirt and the vegetation were toxic, then any creature who walked in here should become incapacitated and die. Such was not the case. In fact, as he donned his protective clothing, he’d noticed several squirrels scampering about, busily preparing themselves for the fast-approaching winter.
As he neared the blast doors again, he thought he heard something. Shouting maybe? He glanced around the horizon quickly, then dismissed whatever it was as something he didn’t need to worry about. Probably Jake and Carolyn.
When a chunk of concrete exploded out of the doorjamb, however, and he felt the concussion of a gunshot through the rubberized fabric of his suit, he jumped a foot and whirled around in a crouch. There at the perimeter of the exclusion zone, maybe twenty yards away, he saw a man in a cop’s uniform aiming a gun straight at him. He saw the cop’s mouth moving, but he couldn’t hear any of the words. Not that words were important. The business end of a firearm came as close to universally understood communication as anything he could think of.
Nick froze where he stood, and slowly raised his hands.
Jake reacted instinctively to the sound of the gunshot, ripping the mask off his face with one hand while drawing the Glock with the other, bringing it to bear as he dropped to one knee. In the same motion, he threw a forearm into Travis’s chest, knocking him to the ground and out of harm’s way. Even as he hit him, he knew he’d done it too hard, driving a blast of air out of the boy’s mouth. No time to worry about that now.
“Ow, Dad!” Travis gasped, bringing an angry glare from his father.
“Quiet!” Jake commanded. “Here.” He fished through his pockets again for his knife, then tossed it to the boy. “Help your mother out of her suit.”
“But my clothes-”
“Screw your clothes,” Jake hissed. “Just do what I told you.”
Jake’s eyes had taken on that same look that Travis had seen in the school and in the car when they were stopped. It scared him. He remembered again that his father could be a very dangerous man when he was threatened. Dangerous to everyone.
While Travis struggled with the folding blade, Jake wriggled out of his air pack harness and started inching his way up the incline, back toward the source of the shot. Maybe sixty yards separated him from the action, and it looked bad. He watched as a clearly agitated cop shouted commands to Nick, who just stood there, his hands in the air, doubtless unable to hear a thing the cop said to him.
“Shit!” Jake hissed. What do we do now? If push came to shove, he was a good enough shot to drop the cop at this distance, but that didn’t seem like much of an option. Killing a police officer would render the rest of this exercise moot. If he murdered a cop, no one would give a damn that he hadn’t killed the others.
By all appearances, the encounter had played itself to a standoff, as each player tried to figure out how to communicate with the other. For a shamefully long moment, Jake considered just leaving Nick there.
Family first, everything else second.
If Jake just guided Carolyn and Travis around the near side of the mound closest to them, they’d be able to make it all the way back to the Cadillac without the cop seeing or hearing a thing. Once at the car, they’d have a decent shot at getting out alive.
And forever after, he’d have to live with the burden of having sold out a friend. Suddenly, this had all become too complicated. He pushed himself up from the ground and moved to circle around the mound when the characteristic sound of ripping fabric momentarily diverted his attention back toward the creek bed. Carolyn was cutting herself out of her suit, with Travis’s able, if somewhat hesitant, assistance. The boy was having a hard time getting much done with one hand covering his genitalia.
Jake had work to do. He darted out of sight as quietly as possible, hoping to double back and come in behind the cop. “Just don’t shoot yet,” he mumbled, an indirect prayer for Nick’s safety.
Once around to the front of the magazine opposite the exclusion zone, Jake ran full speed down the road to get to the other side of the mound. Last time he saw the cop, he was halfway down the other side of the berm, carefully avoiding the line where life stopped and contamination began. Jake’s best approach, then, would be directly over the top. Judging from the displaced leaves and broken branches, it was the same route the cop had followed just moments before.
Jake scaled the hill easily, holstering the Glock until his footing was secure. Once near the top, he drew the weapon again and peeked over the crest, trying his best to stay hidden in the undergrowth. As he rose up to look, he realized with a rush that this was the exact spot where the sniper had made his perch fourteen years before. For the millionth time since that awful day, Jake’s mind replayed the image of the man in camouflage, blasting at them randomly as they struggled to get out of the way of the giant smoke plume.
Without standing all the way up and exposing himself fully, all he could see of the cop at this angle was the back of the deputy’s head and his shoulders. An easy kill shot, but he still didn’t want to go there.
Honest, Judge, I had to blast him while he wasn’t looking. Not likely.
If he tried to rush the cop, he’d no doubt hear the approach, and even though they were separated by only twenty feet, that was plenty of time for the cop to turn and fire. Similarly, if Jake just yelled for him to drop his weapon, he’d probably turn and draw down anyway, sparking a lethal exchange of gunfire, which, under the circumstances, Jake would probably win, but the result would once again be a dead cop. Back to square one.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Then he got an idea.
“Federal officers!” Jake yelled, invoking the words and tone he’d heard in the body shop just three days before. “Don’t move!”
The cop jumped at the sound of the voice and started to turn.
Jake fired a shot in the air. “I said don’t move, goddammit! Now, drop your weapon!”
“But I’m a cop!” Sherman protested, once again starting to turn.
“And I’m the fucking tooth fairy!” Jake screamed. “Now, drop that weapon or I’ll blow your head off!”
“But I’m-”
“Now!!”
Sherman’s shoulders sagged, and he shook his head as he opened his hand and let the pistol fall to the ground.
“That’s a good boy,” Jake coaxed, hoping he wasn’t laying it on too thick. “Okay, now put your hands behind your head and interlace your fingers.”
Sherman complied but bitched like an old rooster. “I’m a cop, goddammit! The bad guy’s down there-”
“Shut up and listen,” Jake interrupted. “I want you to step away from the weapon, back up the hill toward me.” Again, the cop did as he was told, at which point, Jake was lost. He had no idea what he was going to do next. He truly didn’t want to hurt the guy, but he didn’t know what else…
“I’ve got him, Jake. You go ahead and cuff him.” Carolyn’s voice came from behind him and to his left, and she had her. 380 in her trembling hand.
Sherman cocked his head at the sound of the new voice. “Jake?” he gasped. His shoulders sagged even further. “Jesus Christ.”
Jake smiled as he holstered the Glock and moved cautiously toward the neutralized threat. “I’m afraid so, Deputy,” he said. “You’ve been had. Now, the good news is, you’re alive. Do what I tell you, and you’ll remain that way. Just don’t screw with me, okay?” The cop had no way of knowing that Carolyn could no more shoot a man than she could flap her arms and fly.
Sherman was a beaten man. He followed directions, but with his head bowed in shame. “How could I be so stupid?” he chided himself.
Jake didn’t say anything as he pulled the handcuffs out of their holster in Sherman’s belt. Gripping the cop’s interlaced fingers tightly in his own hand, Jake led his prisoner backward to a sturdy young sapling and instructed him to sit down. Fifteen seconds later Sherman’s hands were cuffed behind his back, the sapling preventing him from going anywhere.
