“Who are they?”
Hatcher shook his head. “No idea. But right now, I’m gonna go with the enemy of my enemy line of thought.”
The helicopter closed the distance and slowly lowered to the ground just behind the truck, the wheels settling softly on the dry pavement. The blades slowed, but didn’t stop as the side door opened and men in desert camo stepped out.
Hatcher’s eyes narrowed as they brought weapons to bear on the truck, and he felt his own hand tightening on the grip of the carbine. A tall man stepped out from the chopper and began walking across the cracked pavement toward the truck. He stopped just shy of the truck and placed his hands on his hips.
“My name is Captain A. J. Hollis. I’m looking for Daniel Hatcher.”
Hatcher cocked his head to the side and stared at the man. He couldn’t make out much past the dark sunglasses and Kevlar helmet, but the man had an air of authority about him. He lowered his carbine and stepped toward the back of the truck.
“I’m Hatcher.” He jumped down from the truck and laid the carbine across his arms. “What can I do you for?”
Captain Hollis smiled and stepped forward, his hand extended. “Mister Hatcher, you’re a difficult man to track down.”
Hatcher studied the extended hand, and although warning bells were ringing through the back of his mind, he reached out and shook it. “You didn’t say why you were looking for me.”
“That’s a long story in itself, Mister Hatcher.” Captain Hollis turned and waved toward the chopper. “If you’ll just come with me, I can explain en route.”
Hatcher pulled back and shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere with you, captain.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder toward the truck. “We have a mission of our own, thank you.”
Captain Hollis waivered for just a moment and Hatcher saw the two men holding the truck at gunpoint begin to step forward. Hollis raised a hand, stopping them, and Hatcher felt the need to bring his own weapon to bear.
“Let’s not do anything we’ll regret later, Mister Hatcher.” Hollis held his hands up, placating the man.
“I’ve got a passenger on this truck I have to get to the CDC in Colorado. She’s—”
“There is no CDC in Colorado, Mister Hatcher. It was overrun early into this…thing.” Hollis pointed back to the chopper. “What’s left of the CDC is now offshore on naval vessels.”
Hatcher felt the color drain from his face and he took a half-step back. “No more CDC?”
“Not in Colorado. Actually, there’s no more working labs on the mainland.”
Hatcher felt the wind knocked from his sails and he cast a furtive glance back toward the truck. “But…the girl. She’s immune.”
Hollis nodded. “Yes, sir. We’ve run into a small handful of people who are. Unfortunately, we haven’t found a way to make a vaccine from their immunity.”
Hatcher’s legs went weak and he bent down, settling on one knee as he let the realization sink in. “So…no more CDC, no vaccine from the immune…what’s left?”
Hollis smiled and Hatcher noted it was genuine. “We have a plan, sir, but we need your assistance.”
Hatcher raised his eyes and squinted as the sun cast the man into silhouette. “What plan?”
“If you’ll come with me, sir, I’ll explain.”
Hatcher looked back toward the truck. “I can’t leave them here…they’d never survive.”
Hollis nodded. “We’ll act as an escort if you want to take them back to the stronghold. But then we’ll need you to come with us.”
Hatcher stared at the bullet hole ridden truck and shook his head. “If you can just give them a lift back…we can leave the truck.”
Hollis stretched his hand out once more. “Of course, Mister Hatcher. If you’ll all come this way.”
Simon kicked through the debris and chunks of meat that was once his men. He looked down the road toward the truck still sitting alone on the highway and stifled his frustrated scream. He grabbed the lone survivor who encountered the truck and pulled him close. “Tell me again how some preppy golf pro and a couple of kids got the better of you.”
The dirty man trembled and shook his head. “T-they had a helicopter. One of them big military jobs with machine guns.”
“And where the hell did he hide that? His back pocket?” Simon pushed the man away and didn’t watch him as he tumbled down the embankment. “Get me that damned truck and whatever is still inside it!” He kicked at one of his minions as they scrambled for the motorcycle and fired it to life.
Simon waited a few moments then heard the radio crackle to life. “It’s empty inside. Nothing left but a few empty jugs.”
“Son of a bitch!” Simon kicked at the sand and tugged the ragged ends of his beard. He suddenly looked up and smiled through jagged, stained teeth. “Bring me the truck.”
The dirty biker had climbed back to join the others and felt compelled to ask, “What ya gonna do with the truck, boss?”
“Figure out where it came from.”
“I doubt it’s registered to them, Simon. That’s an old military truck.”
Simon turned and glared at the man. “Don’t need no registration, dumbass. We’re gonna figure out how far they came and then backtrack. Once we figure out what town they came from, we hunt down their hiding place.”
The dirty man smiled and nodded, his mind still not connecting the dots. “Okay…but then what?”
“Then what? Then we take what we want and leave the rest to the cannibal crazies, that’s what.” Simon began to laugh as the multiple possibilities ran through his mind. Food, women, firearms, ammunition…and if he was lucky, liquor. “We’re gonna clean ’em out and take what’s ours.”
Vickers knocked once then stepped inside the president’s office. “We’ve located Hatcher. Hollis just radioed in.”
President Walters looked up from the papers in front of him and
