Stella slid in next to him and gripped his arm. “What do you mean?”
He dropped the curtain and stood tall. “He’ll know there are survivors in this town.” He paced the short trailer, his mind spinning.
“I don’t get it.” She stepped in front of him, her eyes searching his. “What do you mean? Why would he care?”
Savage inhaled deeply and blew it out slowly. “If Scar had been torn up and eaten, he’d just count him off as being attacked by a rogue rager. But to just show up dead? While on guard duty?”
She shook her head slowly, not understanding.
“He’ll know that not only are there human survivors here, but they showed up at the camp and got close enough to kill one of his guards.”
Her eyes widened as she considered what he meant. “This has to deal with the whole settle down thing, doesn’t it?”
Savage nodded. “Yup.” He stared out of the kitchen window, his mind still playing out the possibilities. “Fucking Squirrel—”
“There’s squirrels?” Stella slid in next to him and scanned outside.
“No, baby. No squirrels.” He stood and reached for his pants. “Just a rat that I need to deal with.”
The CDO entered Colonel Vickers’ office and quietly shut the door. Vickers looked up from his paperwork, then checked his watch. “You’re early.”
The CDO stood at attention in front of Vickers’ desk. He handed the man a communique. Vickers skimmed it, then fell back into his seat. “Is this confirmed?”
The CDO nodded. “Yes, sir. Captain Hollis did not survive the mission at Fort Collins.”
Vickers wiped a roughened hand across his face and stared away. He stood on shaky legs and reached for the scotch on the wet bar. “Care to join me, lieutenant?”
“Thank you, sir. Don’t mind if I do.” The CDO stood at parade rest and reached for the glass when it was offered.
“Do we know how it happened?”
The CDO took a pull from the drink and nodded. “Preliminary report states he stayed behind to hold off an advancing force of Zeds, sir. He never exited the building.”
Vickers nodded and took a drink from his own. The two stood in silence for a moment, remembering the man they knew to be both annoying yet capable. Vickers tossed back the rest of his drink, then reached for the bottle. “Top it off?”
The CDO shook his head. “One and done, sir.”
Vickers held his glass out. “Then, to Captain Hollis.”
“To Captain Hollis.” He clinked his glass to the colonel’s, then threw back what was left of his drink. He placed the glass down gingerly on the corner of the wet bar and turned for the door. He paused a moment, the door in his hand. “Also, the pilots report that Hollis tasked Daniel Hatcher with returning the sample to the fleet. Apparently, he’s quite excited to see you again, sir.”
Roger tossed on the worn-out mattress and tried to sleep. His body was exhausted, but his mind wouldn’t shut down. He tried sleeping with a blanket. Too hot. He kicked it off and tried to sleep without one. Too cold. He tried covering half of his body and the covered half broke into a sweat, the uncovered half shivered.
He finally turned over and stared at the ceiling. The murmur of voices and work going on in the warehouse carried past the stacks of boxes and supplies that made up the grand majority of his walls, but it wasn’t the noise or activity going on around him that kept his mind from resting.
It was the look that Candy had on her face as she walked away.
Before the incident, he was a fellow peace officer. He was a kindred spirit. He was a possible love interest and partner for the apocalypse.
Now, he was a murderer.
He didn’t kill because his life was in direct physical danger. He didn’t kill to immediately protect another. He didn’t kill because of a ruthless attack. No, he killed another person to keep them quiet.
True, they could have ruined their plans and possibly, indirectly, brought the vengeance of Simon and his gang down upon the innocent people trying to eke out a survival in this rusty warehouse. But the man could have just as easily kept his mouth shut, kept Roger’s trust, and perhaps eventually become a contributing member of this quiet little society.
Roger sighed and propped his hands behind his head. He continued to stare at the bare metal roof above him and wished he could just disappear. Perhaps if he could vanish, Candy wouldn’t have to worry about having a killer under her roof.
He rolled to his side and pulled the photo of his wife out from the cranny where he had hidden it. He brushed his thumb along the edge of her face and tried to remember the last time he had seen her. He remembered trying to convince her it would all blow over. They could ride it out and once the dust settled, they could start over. He’d take the lieutenant’s test and ride a desk until retirement. They could finally start a family.
He felt something wet and warm slide down his cheek and he wiped at his face.
When was the last time he’d cried? He sniffed back the tears and shoved her photo into his shirt pocket. He threw the blanket off and sat on the edge of the mattress. He forced himself to think of anything but those he’d hurt or brought pain to.
As he sat alone in his room, he tried, in vain, to remember anybody from his past that he hadn’t hurt in some way.
He couldn’t.
Roger stood and pulled his leather riding jacket from the hook on the wall and pulled his riding boots back on. He’d live with the flannel until he could find something else. He pulled his sunglasses from the inside pocket of his jacket and headed to the front staging area.
He nodded to the guards as
