He nodded. “And you are?”
“I am Dr. LaRue. I’m the lead project researcher trying to find a cure.” She pointed to the aluminum case. “Please tell me that’s what I think it is.”
“If you think it’s stinky black goo from a hot spring, then yeah. It is what you think it is.”
She smiled and fell back against the bulkhead. “Thank god.” She turned to the pilots. “Once we’re loaded, take us to Ft. Collins. They have the samples.”
Hatcher heard the pilot respond with an affirmative and was about to ask her what the hell she meant by going to Fort Collins when rifle fire erupted just outside the craft.
Hollis stood near the door, his weapon trained on the hill before them. Hatcher could see spent cartridges spitting from the side of his weapon as he waved his men aboard. Two others were kneeling beside the craft, their weapons pointed away from them.
Hatcher fought to pull the headphones off, but one of the soldiers pushed him back. “They’re powering up to leave!”
Hatcher’s eyes widened as he realized the engines were revving and he reached toward the door. “Get him on board! Now!”
The soldier patted his shoulder and took a seat next to him. “Cap knows what he’s doing.”
Hatcher watched as the last two men boarded, then Hollis turned and stepped into the craft. He turned his attention back to the infected and emptied his magazine as the helicopter lifted from the ground.
Hollis sneered at the creatures as they launched themselves toward the landing gear, but none could connect. He pulled his empty magazine and slammed a fresh one into the mag well. He secured the door, then turned and collapsed into the cargo area. “That was too close.”
Hatcher couldn’t hear him, but he could read his lips. He waved his hand to get the man’s attention. Hollis pulled the headphones from the bulkhead and slipped them on. “Don’t tell me you were worried about me?” He smirked at the smaller man.
Hatcher hooked a thumb forward. “The pilots are taking us to Ft. Collins.”
Hollis’ brows knitted in confusion. “We have the sample.” His eyes settled on Dr. LaRue. “We have your sample, doc. What’s with Ft. Collins?”
She reached for the case, but Hatcher pulled it slightly away. “The man asked you a question, doc.”
She sighed heavily and turned toward Captain Hollis. “We are ordered to Ft. Collins to collect research that was performed prior to the outbreak. Research on the virus.”
Hollis gave her an incredulous look. “Research performed before the outbreak? On the virus…”
She nodded. “Since we were coming to get you, we thought we’d kill two birds with one stone.”
His face hardened. “We?”
“The Colonel. And I.”
Hollis glanced at Hatcher and noted the surprise on his face. “The colonel cleared you for a field op?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “Who better to locate the research than myself?”
Hollis ground his teeth and glared at her. “I think I could locate that research. I am a microbiologist.”
“You have a bachelor degree in biology, and until recently never worked in a research environment. I am clearly the right person for this job.”
Hollis’ features hardened further and he turned to Hatcher. “Apparently, unless you have PhD behind your name, you’re just a window-licking moron.”
“Pretty much.” LaRue shot back. “Sit back and relax, captain. I’ll let you know what you can do to assist me once we reach Ft. Collins.”
Savage stepped from the bike and pulled his sunglasses off. He glared at the man and cocked his head to the side. “I’m not sure if I should shake your hand for surviving or beat the dog fuck out of you.”
Roger nodded. “I understand completely.”
“Where the fuck you been?” He pointed to his face. “And what happened to your chin ferret?”
Roger held his hands up to quell the questions. “I found…someone.”
“Some one?” Savage stepped closer and narrowed his gaze.
Roger nodded again. “Okay…maybe a few someones.” He stepped back instinctively. “Hear me out, okay?”
Savage crossed his arms and continued to glare at him. Roger sighed. “This ain’t gonna work if you keep staring at me like you want to rip my gizzard out through my asshole.”
“Then talk.” His baritone voice sounded like a tuba when he was mad. He was obviously mad.
Roger blew his breath out hard and avoided eye contact. “I found a group of survivors.” He glanced at Savage who hadn’t moved. “They’re good people, man.”
Savage continued to stare at him, unmoving.
“Look, I’m not saying it’s right or wrong, but I can’t let Simon get his hooks into these folks. I’d rather ride off in the opposite direction and have him chase me down or…or, eat a bullet to keep him from finding them.”
Savage continued to stare at him, unmoving.
Roger searched the slits that were his eyes and saw nothing. He felt it best to continue. “I’ve tried since this whole thing started to convince Simon to work with other survivors. Pool our resources, help each other. But what does he do?”
“He plunders.”
Roger nodded. “Right. He plunders. And rapes. And pillages.” He began pacing, trying in vain to burn off the nervous energy that was built up inside him. “You’d think he was a damned Viking or some such.”
“And?”
Roger turned and stared at him. “Aw, come on, man. You can’t be serious right now.” He stopped pacing and stared at the larger man. “Seriously?”
Savage shifted his weight but continued to stare at him.
“What if it was your old lady, man?” Roger tried to think of Savage’s wife’s name. “Sandra?”
“Stella.”
“Oh, yeah.” Roger snapped his fingers. “Everybody’s name has to start with an ‘s.’” He turned and gave Savage a hateful look. “So, is Stella even her real name, or did Simon change it for her once she was stolen?”
Savage clenched his teeth and Roger could see the muscle in his jaw tick. He knew he’d hit a nerve.
“Hey, look, I get it man.” Roger took a half-step forward and continued his pleading. “You prefer the status quo. Simon
