Candy’s eyes bulged. “What?”
“He’s…perfect.” She whispered breathlessly. “I’m talking romance novel cover boy perfect. Thick chest, abs that go all the way down to his…” She blushed again and held her hands up.
“I meant, that he cleared your check up.” Candy gave her a deadpan stare.
“Oh!” Vicky’s eyes widened. “Yes, of course. Clear as a bell.”
Candy couldn’t hold her face any longer and slowly cracked into a grin. She pulled Vicky toward where the spare clothes were stored. “So, tell me,” she said seductively, “what kind of clothes should I get him?”
“Big.” Vicky nodded. “Long. And big.”
Candy’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“At least a 2X. The man has a chest as wide as my office.” She gave her an impish grin. “Let’s dress him like a lumberjack.”
“Ooh. I love flannel.”
Chapter 8
“And pull the trucks into a semi-circle around the front entrance. If we have to bug out, I want them close and ready to roll.” Hollis lifted the aluminum case and carried it with him into the house. “No matter what else happens, this case is priority one. It has to be delivered back to the research ship.”
He stepped into the cool darkness of the house and slumped against the counter. Hatcher approached slowly. “What’s going on out there?”
“My guys are seeing shadows everywhere.” He turned worried eyes to Hatcher. “They’re battle hardened, but they’re starting to spook.”
Hatcher glanced over his shoulder to the men working outside. “If they’re rattled, I can’t tell it.”
Hollis nodded. “Like I said, they’re seasoned vets. They won’t show it, but I can see it in their eyes.”
Hatcher tried to think of something positive to change the subject. “Well, if worse comes to worse, we have a couple more days’ worth of food.” He shrugged. “If you count Spam as food.”
Hollis groaned. “That’s almost as bad as MRE’s.” He pushed off the counter and stepped to the window to stare out at his men reinforcing the perimeter. “Sticking around might not have been such a grand idea.”
Hatcher nodded slowly, his mind trying to find the right words. He settled on, “I’m sorry.”
Hollis turned and gave him a questioning look. “What for?”
“This was my idea. Sticking around and praying that a second transport comes for us.”
Hollis turned back to the window. “I gave the order. The decision was mine.” He pulled the window open and waved a soldier over, “I want gunners on the first and last trucks. Double the men on the roof.”
The man barked a Yes, sir and disappeared.
Hatcher appeared by his side. “If you really think it’s going to be that hairy, I can take a shift up there as well.”
Hollis shook his head. “I’m counting on you to get this case back to the ship in the event me or my men…can’t.” He poked Hatcher in the chest. “That means you stay alive. No matter what.”
Hollis turned and marched back outside, barking orders as he went. Buck silently appeared behind Hatcher. “I think he likes you.”
“He just thinks I can be useful.” Hatcher groaned as he sat in the wooden dining chair. “There’s a big difference.”
Buck sat on the other side of the table and stared at the case. “Do you really think they can find a cure with that crap?”
Hatcher shrugged. “That’s why we’re here, kid. They must think this muck is pretty important to risk coming back here.”
Buck ran his hand along the smooth outer shell. “Sorta makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” Hatcher gave him a questioning stare. “Where it comes from. I mean, is it something that Mother Nature whipped up in her kitchen to kill off an overpopulated species, or was it man-made?”
“I can’t imagine anybody in their right mind making this stuff on purpose.” Hatcher stared at the case and wished it was locked up somewhere else. “If Mother Nature cooked this stuff up, she is one twisted mother.”
Buck nodded. “Sorta makes you wonder about things like the dinosaurs. Was it really a meteor that took them out, or were they exposed to something like this?”
Hatcher started to laugh until he really thought about a Zulu T-Rex. He was pretty certain those creatures were mean enough without being infected by a rage virus.
“How do you think of this stuff?”
Buck shrugged. “When you’re stuck with nobody to talk to and have to stay quiet to keep from being eaten, all sorts of weird thoughts run through your head.”
Hollis burst through the front doors. “We have one!”
Hatcher was on his feet and following him, Buck in tow. “Did they track down one of the wounded?”
Hollis shook his head. “This one is alive.”
Simon paced the tent he called home. His mind kept going over the digital photos his men took at the scene. He couldn’t imagine the force necessary to overtake a half-dozen of his men.
“Why didn’t they jump the second group?” He tugged at his beard while his mind played tricks with him.
“Maybe they were still full from the first attack.” Scud suggested.
Simon shook his head. “They don’t need a reason to attack. They’re simple-minded animals. Like a rabid dog. Or a shark. They’ll bite just because they can.” He continued pacing. “No, there was something else going on.”
His remaining lieutenants lined the interior walls of his tent. They tried not to watch him as he paced and tugged at his beard, two things that Simon always seemed to do when distraught.
“There had to be something else going on…something distracted the men. Got them caught in the trap.” He began kicking up dust in the dry packed earth as he marched back and forth. “Something that pulled the ragers attention from the trap while the other boys sniffed around…” He stopped pacing and turned hate-filled eyes to his men. “Something stinks here.”
Slasher turned and stared at the man they called Swamp Donkey. “I think that’s code for take a bath, you smelly fucker.” He grinned at him through stained teeth.
“Cut the bullshit!” Simon barked. “We lost six
