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 around 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
