“The map is back at the Visitor’s Center. I can point them out to you there.” He motioned back the way they came. “It’s a topomap, so you can get a feel for what we’re up against.”
“That was before the mountain top was blown off.”
“True, but the base terrain will still be the same. We’ll just have to maneuver around whatever obstacles were thrown in our way.”
Hollis pulled his sunglasses away and wiped the sweat from his brow. He stared up the mountain as far as he could see then back the way they had come. “You figure it was debris that felled those trees in the road?”
Hatcher shook his head. “I think something put them there.”
Hollis nodded, then pulled the straps from his ruck. “Change of plans. Everybody load up.” He tossed his pack into the back of the truck and gave Hatcher a sideways stare. “We’re going back to the Visitor Center and setting up a command post. It looks like we’ll be tackling this job at first light.” He slammed the cover on the rear of the slant back and twisted the latch.
“Everybody stay frosty. We might be in for a rough night.”
Squirrel dropped the kickstand on his bike and slid from the saddle. He ignored Slug as he drove past him and parked closer to the doors of the hotel.
Squirrel opened the hard bag on the side of his Indian and pulled the small satchel of food he was able to dig up and slung it over his shoulder. “At least we have something more than peaches and hard tack.”
Slug ignored him and made his way inside the old hotel. Squirrel watched the man walk away, and for a moment wondered if he’d make his move if Squirrel didn’t offer up some of the grub. It would be fitting to kill him over something that trivial, but people like Slug really didn’t need a reason to be shot. They needed killing.
Squirrel had just slipped under the shadow of the front Ramada when he heard the muffled report of gunshots coming from within the hotel. He dropped the satchel and sprinted to the front doors, using the edge as cover while he peered into the gloomy interior.
Slug tried to run out of the lobby and slipped on the loose sand covering the floor. He slid into the adjacent wall, and as he scrambled to come to his feet, one of the crazies launched himself from the hallway and bit down hard on the man’s calf.
Squirrel shuddered at the scream and leveled his pistol on the creature tearing chunks of flesh from Slug’s leg. He pulled the trigger and watched as blood and gore sprayed the wall behind the screaming biker. His eyes scanned the area and came back to Slug trying to get to his feet again, his ruined leg slipping in his own blood as he tried to regain his footing.
“Don’t you fucking shoot me, man! Don’t you fucking do it!” he screamed through clenched teeth. He placed his hand along the wall and fought to get his feet back under him. He was panting and had broken into a cold sweat. Squirrel knew it wouldn’t be long.
Slug turned and pressed his back to the wall, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “Sumbitch was waiting for me in the hallway.”
Squirrel watched him squeeze his eyes shut, his free hand running down the length of his thigh and squeezing just short of the bite on his calf. “Goddammit…this is not how I was supposed to go out.”
Squirrel stepped into the dim light of the lobby and stared at the man slowly slipping down the wall and back to the floor. “Exactly how were you supposed to go out?”
Slug laughed and spat between his legs. “I was supposed to be shot to death, man. At the ripe old age of a hundred…by a twenty-one-year-old jealous husband.”
He laughed at his own joke and ended up coughing. He breathed heavily as he tried to catch his wind again and slowly opened his eyes.
“You will be shot to death.” Squirrel pointed the barrel at his forehead and stared into his eyes as they slowly filled with blood. “But I ain’t no jealous husband.”
“What the fuck, man?”
Squirrel didn’t turn to see his compatriots as they entered the lobby. He kept his eyes on Slug and waited for him to turn completely.
“Don’t let this cocksucker shoot me, man!” Slug yelled. “I got attacked, but that doesn’t mean that I’m gonna….” He trailed off and shook his head slowly. “Don’t mean I’m…gonna…fuck me, my head hurts.” Squirrel watched him pinch his eyes shut, his jaw clenched.
“Somebody get me some aspirin, man. My head is killing me…”
Squirrel took a half-step forward and the men standing behind him took a step back. They knew what was about to happen and they didn’t want to be close if the larger man missed.
Slug opened his eyes and glared at the group. He opened his mouth and a harsh scream erupted from his throat that all of them were too familiar with.
Squirrel pulled the trigger just as the man jerked and tried to launch himself from a sitting position. He fell at their feet, his brain hanging loosely from the hole in the back of his head.
Squirrel holstered his weapon and turned to the other two. “Strip him of any usable weapons and if you need parts from his bike, you’d better hurry before the sun sets.”
He turned and walked toward the stairwell. His room still had water in the tank and he felt the need to clean up before he fell asleep.
Dr. LaRue pulled the thermometer from Bren’s forehead and read the digital display. “Looks like a low-grade fever.” She lifted the girl’s wrist and monitored her pulse. “Have you eaten anything that didn’t sit right with you or…?”
Bren shook her head. “No, ma’am. I
