The group rode in silence as Hatcher directed them to a point close to the station. They ditched the ATVs in a thick stand of brush and laid Fisher out in a pile of leaves to sleep off the shot.
“Remember, don’t shoot the pistol unless you have to, kid,” Mitch warned. “It will give away your location and they’ll be on you like ducks on a junebug.”
Buck nodded even though he had no clue what Mitch meant by ‘ducks on a junebug.’ He wasn’t stupid and had seen enough movies to realize that if they stuck their heads out, they’d be easy to spot to anybody with night vision. He just prayed that the thick canopy of limbs overhead prevented the choppers from picking up their body heat.
“If they get close, I’ll use the bow first,” he whispered.
Hatcher patted his shoulder and whispered back, “Good luck, kid.”
“Same to you guys,” Buck replied as Hatcher, Mitch, and Candy slipped along the tree line up the ridge.
They followed the trees until they reached the top then belly crawled to the edge. Looking out over the compound, Mitch tapped Hatcher. “It will take a long time to get around all this.”
“Any way through it all?” Hatcher asked.
Candy pointed to the Mobile Unit. “They’re gutting the MU.”
Mitch squinted against the slowly brightening sky and nodded. “Probably have plans for it,” he said. “Maybe if we can skirt down to the backside of it, we can use it as a block. Stay low and go tent to tent until we’re close to the station, then just bolt for the front doors?”
“Full frontal assault?” Hatcher considered the idea. “Three against…how many?”
Mitch shook his head. “Most aren’t even armed, buddy. My guess is the real threats are already in the woods.”
“So, we have to hope that the few that are armed don’t notice us,” Hatcher said. “Sounds like a hell of a plan.”
“It’s either that or spend the next hour and a half slinking through the woods, hoping we don’t bump into a kill squad, and praying we reach the back door,” Mitch countered.
Hatcher sighed. “You were ex-military. Whatever you think gives us the best shot.”
“If I had my way, we’d have a sniper up here on this ridge with a suppressed rifle covering our asses, but we don’t have that option.”
“Whatever we do,” Candy piped in. “We better hurry. It’s starting to get light.”
“Agreed,” Mitch said. He tapped Hatcher and pointed to the left. “That side. We’ll skirt along the trees, then slip down behind the Mobile Unit.”
Mitch took off along the ridge, staying low and using the brush as cover. Hatcher and Candy fell in behind him and followed suit. When Mitch positioned himself behind the MU, he paused and studied the area. “Looks like the area is clear.”
He slipped out from the brush, slid down the rocky hillside, and rolled along the ground until he was under the MU. Belly crawling to the edge, he scanned the area for any alarmed soldiers, then twisted and waved his arm for the others to follow. Hatcher shook his head and motioned for Candy to go next. She did her best to emulate Mitch’s movements, but landed square on her ass at the bottom of the rocky hill. Slightly stunned, she crawled on all fours until she, too, was under the MU trailer.
Mitch continued to watch the area and whispered for her to motion to Hatcher. She leaned out the backside and waved for him. Hatcher fought the urge to yell, “Geronimo!” as he dove out of the bushes and slid down the rocky hill. He could feel the dirt and rock slide up his pants leg and could almost swear it was embedded in his shorts by the time he reached the bottom of the hill and he began to roll under the MU.
As all three came together again and caught their breath, Mitch crawled to the rear of the MU and scanned the area again. The compound was nearly silent.
“Let’s get ready to move,” he said. “The shortest distance to the station is to scoot to that big white tent, then the two shorter ones. After that, we can slip in beside the station and the maintenance building.”
“There’s an alleyway behind the maintenance building,” Hatcher said. “It shouldn’t be locked, and we can reach the back of the station from there.”
Mitch smiled and nodded. “Then that’s the goal,” he turned back to scan the area, “On my mark.”
A figure in a white HAZMAT suit burst from the large white tent next to the MU and removed his helmet. “We got live ones coming in! Prepare the trailer!”
Bill still carried the bloody tire iron in his hand as they walked up the paved road to Richard’s house. Richard held Jason’s hand the entire way while the youngster hummed to himself. On more than one occasion, Bill wanted to ask Jason not to hum from fear that it might attract more of the ‘zombie people,’ but he held his tongue. The kid seemed to have some kind of precognitive ability to know what was about to happen, and if he seemed to feel safe humming, then who was he to ask him to stop?
Bill was feeling twice his age as Richard’s mailbox came into view. He knew that Richard must be feeling both physically and emotionally drained after everything he had been through this night. As the trio approached the driveway, Bill noticed the sky growing paler, and turned to look back at the horizon. Great, he thought, we’ll be driving right into the rising sun.
“Grandpa, I’m thirsty,” Jason said as they turned and started up the driveway.
“I’ll get you a bottled water,” Richard replied absently as they trudged up the driveway.
“And a Pop-Tart?”
Richard nodded gently. “And a Pop-Tart.” As they reached the top of the hill, Richard fished in his pocket and handed Bill his keys. “Take your pick,” he muttered as he released Jason’s hand and went in the
