“That’s the plan, anyway.” Hatcher finished clearing the cabinets and tied the corners of that pillow case. He handed it to Buck. “I think that’s it.”
Hollis stepped back in from the garage. “They have a gas grill out here and the propane tank is full.”
Hatcher shrugged. “IED?”
“Only as a last resort.”
A soldier stepped around the corner holding a box. “Pantry is empty, sir.”
“Let’s head back.” Hollis picked through the contents of the box and nodded. “It may be a hodgepodge, but it beats MRE’s.” He grabbed a pillow case from Hatcher and hoisted it over his shoulder. “Last one back cooks supper.”
Hatcher grunted. “Trust me, you don’t want me to cook. You’d be better off eating your Ramen noodles raw.”
“Then I guess we better beat the kid back ’cuz I can’t cook for shit, either.”
Buck smiled to himself. “Try eating raw fish. It sustains you, but it sure is hard to choke down.”
“It’s just sushi, kid. Back before the world died, people used to pay big bucks for that crap,” Hollis said, pushing him towards the door.
“I doubt they wanted it with scales, bones, and guts.”
“And I thought mercury levels was the thing to worry about.”
Hollis’ radio barked to life. “Sir, we have contact!”
Roger laid his jacket down over what he thought was once an arm. It had been stripped clean of flesh, and there was surprisingly little blood. He picked up the jacket again and walked to another area, looking for something bloody to smear on it.
“Just drop the damned thing and let’s get out of here.”
Roger looked to Henry and shook his head. “It needs to look like there was a struggle.”
Henry snorted. “That jacket is so roughed up, it already looks like there was a struggle.” He climbed down from the pickup and walked into the middle of the kill zone. He snatched the jacket from Roger and slapped it a few times on the dark spots on the ground then slammed the back of the jacket against a jagged piece of metal that had once been a car door, spearing it into place.
“There. That looks struggly.” He turned to Roger and gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Now can we please get the hell out of here?”
Roger nodded. He knew there was something he was forgetting. The pair walked back to the truck and he pulled the door open. As soon as his boot hit the step rail, he remembered. “Just a second!”
Roger jogged back to his jacket and dug around the front breast pocket. He pulled out the faded picture of his wife and stared at it for just a moment. He ran his hand gingerly across the side of her face, then slipped it into his shirt pocket.
As he climbed into the truck Henry gave him an odd look. “What did you forget?”
“A reminder of the past.” Roger gave him a crooked grin.
Henry started the truck and pulled slowly away from the trap. Roger stared out the passenger side window and gave a silent farewell to his beloved Indian.
He had accelerated it to the site and stepped off the left side, letting it coast and wobble into the parked cars. He nearly cried when the forks bent around the front wheel and the bike flipped up and to its side next to a blue Nissan.
Surely Simon would realize he must be dead. No biker in his right mind would let his ride get fucked up like that.
He prayed he was right.
He realized that Henry had been talking while he was lost in thought and he had to interrupt him. “Sorry. My mind was somewhere else. What were you saying?”
The large man sighed heavily and pointed to the right. “We cleaned out a grocery store earlier that hadn’t been touched.”
“Seriously?”
He smiled at him. “Heck, yeah. Thing was locked up tight and we cleaned it out…well, as best we could. I’m sure we missed a bunch, but we got all of the good stuff.”
Roger had to smile back. “I wouldn’t have thought there would be anything untouched by now.”
“I know, right?” Henry’s face fell. “We reckon that means that there ain’t no more survivors, though. So, I guess the news isn’t entirely good.”
Roger tried to grasp what he was saying. There had to be close to ninety thousand people in this town, and the few families that made the warehouse home was all that was left?
“How many are you?”
Henry shrugged. “I haven’t counted. Probably a couple hundred if you count the kids.”
“And that’s all that’s left?”
Henry sighed and nodded. “As far as we can tell.” He suddenly perked up. “That don’t mean that there can’t be more groups like us out there…we just ain’t found them.”
Roger tried not to dwell on the idea. Less than one percent of the town’s population still lived. He pushed the thought from his mind. “So, tell me about this Daniel guy.”
“Hatcher? He’s okay, I guess.” Henry slowed the truck for a turn and eyed the biker across from him. “Why you asking?”
“Candy mentioned him. I’m guessing he’s kind of the leader, yeah?”
Henry nodded. “He’s a pretty good guy. He grew up here. Went to college, became a park ranger or some such. I’m pretty sure they said he worked at Yellowstone, but he came home once the shit hit the fan.” Henry pulled the truck up to the chain link gate and nodded to the guards. “He needed to know that his family was okay.”
“I’m guessing they didn’t make it?”
Henry shrugged. “I dunno about anybody else, but the nurse, Vicky? That’s his sister.”
Roger waited until the pickup was pulled into the warehouse and the doors locked behind them.“And now he’s run off with the military trying to find a cure?”
“That’s the word.” Henry shut the engine off and opened his door. “Don’t worry, though. He ain’t pining for Candy.”
Roger did a double-take. “Excuse me?”
Henry shot him a toothy grin. “They’re like oil and water. They work well together, but they don’t mix.” He shut the door
