When he had eaten his fill, he set the can down on the counter and walked to the rear of the main floor. He glanced out at what was left of the pool. Behind the wrought iron fence, the pool was half-filled with thick, smelly brown water. He squinted in the early morning sun and thought he could just make out a swollen body floating in the muck.
Trash littered the concrete around the pool and things that had once been brightly colored sat floating in the brown water, the sun having faded most of the color from them. Squirrel knew better than to step out there. The only thing worse than the smell of death would be death stewing in the New Mexico sun for weeks or longer.
He heard somebody stomping down the stairs and turned to see his brown-toothed partner pull up short when he saw him standing at the rear doors. “Did you sleep?”
Squirrel nodded. “There’s some canned peaches at the check-in desk.” He glanced at his watch, then craned his neck to look for the sun. “We have a lot of ground to cover today. We need to get an early start.”
“What about the others?” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder and back up the stairs.
“They have their mission. Let them sleep.”
He listened to the man’s heavy steps as he walked to the counter. Then, to his dismay, he heard hearty slurps as he lifted the tin to his mouth and sucked the peaches from the can.
His hand absently caressed the Glock 40 tucked under his jacket. The 10mm handgun was capable of putting very large holes into human flesh. He contemplated being able to explain the brown-toothed guy’s death to Simon. Of course, if he killed him here, he’d most likely have to kill the others as well. Surely the sound of the gunshot would stir them.
He decided if he was to go down that road, he’d wait until he and the man known only as Slug were alone.
He hated the nicknames Simon had assigned each of them. He had a knack to choose words starting with ‘S’. Slug, Squirrel, Sasquatch, Shithead…he wasn’t the most creative when it came to names. But for the most part, they seemed somewhat appropriate. His partner was a slug. Slow, lazy, left a trail of slime everywhere he went. He actually chuckled to himself when he realized the name was the most accurate of them all.
Of course, Squirrel could have other meanings besides someone fast, crafty, and careful. Being ‘squirrely’ meant that one couldn’t be trusted. If that was his intention when naming him, he hit the nail directly on the head.
In a previous life, Squirrel had been an undercover narcotics officer. He volunteered for this job and shortly after earning his ‘colors,’ the world came to a screaming and bloody end. Now there was nobody to turn evidence over to. Nobody to make Simon answer for the crimes that Squirrel had witnessed. Nobody to care if the outlaw bikers continued to be outlaws.
In this new world, people like Simon quickly took advantage of the situation and established themselves as war chiefs. They fiercely defended their territories and terrorized anybody who crossed their path. More than once Squirrel found himself committing acts he never would have thought possible. He had to keep telling himself he wasn’t a cop anymore. He was just a person trying his best to make it in a world that was turned upside down.
It didn’t help him to sleep at night.
“You ready?”
He turned and saw the brown-toothed Slug staring at him, wiping heavy syrup from his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He nodded and stepped away from the window. “Let’s finish this.”
“I think it’s safe to say that truck didn’t come from here. I ain’t seen no large groups of people or Army surplus. Whoever they were, they came from somewhere else.”
Squirrel nodded as he straddled the Indian. “You’re probably right, but we still need to look for supplies. We got a lot of people that need to eat.”
“That ain’t my problem, boss. Let ’em find their own grub.” He started the old Harley and revved the engine a few times.
“It is your problem because Simon says it is.” Squirrel kicked off the Indian and slipped his sunglasses on. “Unless you’re ready to challenge Simon, I suggest you do what he orders.”
Slug glared at the man as he pulled away from the hotel. “This trip is getting more dangerous for you boss-man. Best be careful.”
He revved the engine and let the clutch out slowly, pulling the Harley out behind the Indian.
“Whatever you do, do not let Bren see this.” Jason pointed shakily at the reinforced acrylic that separated the researchers from the infected. “I’m serious. She’ll lose her shit right here, and you’ll have to send people out to search for her as she swims back to shore.”
“Rest assured, Jason, she’ll never see this.” Dr. LaRue stepped around him and wrote a few notes on her clipboard. “But in this state, they really are harmless.”
“In this state? Exactly what state are we in? We’re on a friggin boat in the middle of nowhere. I don’t think California can lay claim to us.”
Vivian chuckled at what she thought was his attempt at humor. It took her a moment longer to realize he was serious. “In this state, meaning in their current state of mind. Their behavior. Their lack of aggression. Not where they are located.”
Jason shrugged. “Okay. And because these aren’t being aggressive they’re what? Your pets?”
“These creatures are research material. That is all.”
“And just what do you feed your test bunnies, Doc? If some squid on the boat doesn’t shine his shoes just right, you toss him
