The worst sound was the gunshots. Tammy felt herself flinch at every one of them. Some of those bullets sounded like they came close to their tent. She closed her eyes and swallowed, then looked around at her tent mates in the fading light. She wasn’t the only one affected by the sounds of chaos outside.
Breanne walked around the tent like a caged animal. Steve sat on his cot and looked very small. Abi’s eyes were still wide, but not with innocent, perky spirit. Mike kept getting up and sitting down, clearly conflicted about what to do. BB surprised Tammy though. The lanky young man kept his composure. He did rest his hand on his utility belt, close to his sidearm though.
Just then, BB put his hand on his sidearm and looked at the door. Tammy followed his gaze to see a person at the door.
“IT’S ME. ESTEBAN.” They heard to their relief.
Garcia entered the tent and seemed only slightly surprised to see the radiomen. He accepted their immunity to the syndrome with even less surprise.
Tammy could see that he was struggling with the syndrome himself though. He took a couple of short breaths before he spoke.
“Ok, it’s time to go. Stick together and move quick. Follow me all the way to the Humvee. It’s going to be a tight fit; with the goodies I threw in there. Who is driving?” BB raised his hand.
“Ok, who’s riding shotgun? This time Mike raised his hand.
“Good.” He tossed the key to Mike. “That will get you out of the gate.”
He addressed the group. “You ready?” Only a couple of people nodded but that seemed enough.
“I got no time for ceremony. You guys just... survive this.” Tammy could see him smile.
“Why don’t you come with us too?” Breanne ventured. Steve nodded emphatically.
“No way. I can’t do that.” He paused for a second.
“I,” The tough soldier choked up a little before continuing. “I don’t want to die.”
He looked up with a pained expression. “But I know. That I am dying.”
Garcia swallowed hard.
“Peters, Collins, Durant, Brown... Man, those guys gave their lives. Every one of them willingly laid down theirs, to help other people.” He shook his head and met Breanne’s eyes with a resigned look. “I intend to do the same.”
Mike approached the soldier and put his hand on Garcia’s soldier. After a moment he spoke. “Get to our tent after this. Row A tent 4. The radio is all set up. We can stay in touch...”
Garcia nodded. “Ok. Yeah, that sounds good.” He started towards the door. “Let’s go.”
Seven soldiers exited the tent and walked down the lane towards the camp exit. One walked in front, clearly the leader. They were noticed by several people but left alone.
As they got to the open area adjacent to the gate, a figure approached. The figure moved towards the group with intent. Without breaking stride, the leader of the group raised his sidearm and aimed. The figure kept coming. The soldier fired, sending a spray out of the back of the figure’s head, and nearly flipping the person over. The group quickly continued, leaving through the gate, and travelling towards the parked vehicles.
Several sets of eyes tracked their movement from the darkened interior of the headquarter building. One person started to move.
“Let them go.” A raspy voice commanded from the darkness.
After a moment of hesitation, the person turned to resume his original position.
Chapter Forty
Patrick
October 31, 6:15 P.M.
Word spread at the Ren that the radio was finally operational. Just about all residents of the school made their way to the media room after supper that evening, anxious to hear from other survivors. Anxious for any news from the outside world. Wanting more than anything to hear that everything was going to be ok.
Nobody felt this need more than Patrick. That’s what he thought, anyway. He was the wealthiest person in the room, being semi-retired by the age of thirty-one. He missed his old lifestyle tremendously.
Being a millionaire afforded him time to spend on
... well, whatever the fuck I wanted!
He didn’t spend a lot of his time at home. He would always be taking Rosa off on some excursion or another. Either that, or he’d be out there with the boys. The boys were an exclusive group of five guys all around the same age. They would be off to catch sporting events or concerts across the world, or trips to go skiing or mountain biking, or just letting go and hitting the casinos and strip clubs in Las Vegas or Bangkok.
Guess I won’t be doing any of that stuff anytime soon. Say farewell to the good life... He thought ruefully. And what a good life it had been. Patrick had not gone lacking for anything his heart desired since his early twenties, Only the best for Mister Bentley.
Even when ‘slumming’ it. If you could call his three-million-dollar mansion a slum, that is. Their kitchen staff had the strictest instructions to only prepare the best and often rarest dishes. Thinking about those fine meals made Patrick’s mouth water and his stomach churn. The food at the school had done nothing more than give him indigestion from the moment he got here.
Rosa interrupted his mini daydream. She bumped into him as people were jockeying for position. He glanced at her in annoyance. She looked back at him wide-eyed, so he quickly smiled and put his hand around her waist.
There was no way to stay angry at a woman so fine. He had already caught pretty much all the other men of the group ogling his wife. Which was something that filled him with satisfaction.
That’s right. She is all mine. And yes, she fucks as good as she looks.
His hand slipped down to her ass. Man, does she ever have great curves! Pat, you’ve outdone yourself.
A combination of Rosa pulling his hand back to her waist, and movement near the radio broke his reverie. He
