Bob didn’t see where his bullets went as his eyes were closed most of the time, but he felt someone punch him HARD in the shoulder. The world suddenly fell into slow motion and time stopped having meaning.
The impact of the punch to the shoulder nearly spun him around and he felt his hand go numb. The rifle was slipping from his grip no matter how much his brain screamed to hold on.
Someone else punched him in the thigh and he felt his leg go out from under him, toppling him to the ground. He felt the wind go out from him as he impacted the ground and his head bounced against the dirt and gravel. He finally opened his eyes and stared ahead. Numerous sets of military boots were running in his direction as little plumes of dirt jumped up into the air. At first, Bob didn’t realize those little plumes of dirt were from bullets being fired at him, but he saw a spark fly off the rifle just feet from his head and it dawned on him then the cause of the tiny eruptions.
He suddenly felt stupid.
Bob didn’t have time to feel stupid for very long as a 5.5.56mm full metal jacket round entered the side of his skull and exited the other side. The shock wave of the bullet’s travel liquefied the jelly-like mass of Bob’s brain as it traveled through his cranial cavity, instantly shutting off nearly all electrical function of the brain. The shock wave traveled through the brain stem, shutting down the autonomous systems as well.
Bob Jennings, husband of Lucky, father of Keri and Buck, was no more.
But he’d gotten his revenge.
“What the devil is all this?” Vickers demanded as he stormed out of the station. He stood on the front steps and watched as a contingency of soldiers advanced on the body of a man and kicked a rifle away from him. “What happened out here? Where’s the roving security?”
“It would appear he disabled them and took their weapons, sir,” one of the soldiers said, holding up the M4 carbine.
Vickers scowled and shook his head. “We don’t have time for this kind of foolishness!” he shouted. “Finish packing the essential gear and get it out of here!”
“Yes, sir!” the man shouted, snapping a salute before turning and hustling the others back to work.
“And get another set of sentries posted!” Vickers yelled.
Hatcher stood behind him with a sardonic smile. “Looks like another good citizen that isn’t too keen on being bullied by the big, bad, military industrial machine.”
“Watch yourself,” Vickers warned. “You can easily be left behind.”
“What about the people in the trailer?” Candy asked.
“They were infected,” Vickers stated as he turned and reentered the office.
“Now I know that’s bullshit,” she called after him. “I overheard your conversation earlier. That crazy guy wanted to infect them as some sort of experiment and—”
“And he DID,” Vickers interrupted. “End of story.” He waved his hand toward the door, “In case you haven’t noticed, the woods are crawling with people who are either infected or about to be. And, as I’ve explained, the solution is at hand. Now, you can either stay here and be part of that solution or you can prepare to leave. That choice is entirely up to you.” He glanced at his watch. “You have three minutes to make up your mind.”
Maggie walked past the arguing pair as if in a trance. She entered the office and picked up a single bag, then turned and walked out the door. Hatcher followed her with his eyes and thought she was shell-shocked in more ways than one. He turned and entered his office to gather some of his personal belongings. He picked up a photo of Shelly and stuffed it into a duffel bag as Vickers stepped in behind him. “What are you doing?”
“I’m packing.” Hatcher continued to stuff personal items into the bag.
“You can’t,” Vickers said, reaching for the bag.
“The hell I can’t.” Hatcher snatched the bag back from him. “You said—”
“WE are packing because we haven’t been here yet,” he explained. “Don’t you understand, Ranger Rick? This is about to be a natural disaster that the military will come to aid in. You don’t get advanced warnings of natural disasters. Therefore, you don’t get to pack anything.” He leaned in close and glared at the man. “You should feel damned honored I’m allowing you to walk away from this.”
Hatcher squared his shoulders and glared at the man. “You caused this.”
“No!” Vickers yelled. “We did not.” He pointed a long, bony finger at Hatcher in emphasis. “If you’ll recall, you called me, remember?”
Hatcher stepped back and bit his tongue. “But you and yours were working with this damned plague long before it ever hit here. How do I know you didn’t release it as some kind of test?”
“Because we’d never release it on our own country.”
“Like I would believe you?”
“Believe me or not, it’s truth.” He reached out and grabbed the bag from Hatcher. “In order for this to work, everything here has to survive or not on its own accord.”
Hatcher ground his teeth in frustration. “Fine. Except for one thing.” He grabbed the bag back and pulled Shelly’s photo out of it. He stuffed it into his shirt and tossed the bag back onto his desk. “The rest can burn.”
Candy stuck her head into the office. “There’s a chopper coming in.”
“And that would be our ride,” Vickers said with a smile.
“After you.” Hatcher waved toward the door and watched Vickers exit. He actually fantasized about sinking a knife into the man’s back as he walked out of the station.
“We have less than thirty minutes before the strike,” Vickers stated. “Cutting it a little close, I know, but what is life if you don’t have a
