Buck turned and stared out the window. Row after row of cookie-cutter houses zipped past below, their bright stucco exteriors highlighted with the red-clay roofs.
Hatcher gave the boy a lopsided grin. “We’re minutes away from Skeeter, kid. You think you’re ready?”
Buck gave him a toothy grin and Hatcher felt like it was the first time he’d seen the youth smile since they had reunited. “I can’t wait.”
Hatcher nudged him. “Maybe you can keep her out of trouble.”
Buck gave him a strange look. “Like she’d actually listen to me.”
“We’re five minutes out, Mister Hatcher. Do you have a preferred landing zone?”
Hatcher turned and faced the cockpit. Neither of the two pilots from the front were looking at him as they spoke over the coms. Hatcher wasn’t sure how to address him properly, but simply stated, “The roof held the last time you boys landed a chopper there. I suppose it should hold this one as well.”
“Copy that. Do you have a frequency that we can call ahead? I’d hate to take small arms fire as we approached.”
Hatcher smiled knowingly. “I’m sure they’re already aware of your approach. But to answer your question, they’re using two-way radios. I have no idea, though, the frequency they’re broadcasting on.”
“Roger that, ranger. We’ll keep it on the deck and make a slow approach.”
Hatcher leaned back in his seat and breathed a sigh of relief. This ordeal was almost over, and he could be back with his family once more. Then all they had to worry about was keeping the Zulus at bay. And finding food. And fending off groups of marauders like the motorcycle gang.
He glanced around the transport once more and quietly wondered how many trips the pilots would have to make to take his people to their flotilla.
“As promised, Mister Hatcher, as soon as we have a silver bullet, your people will be the first settlement we contact.”
He turned and stared at Dr. LaRue, who seemed not to notice the daggers he shot at her with his eyes. He tried not to snarl as he spoke. “Just make sure you’ve fully vetted whatever treatment you come at us with.” He leaned closer to her and tried to punctuate the next line with his eyes. “Don’t make me come looking for you.”
She shot him a smile that seemed inappropriate and totally out of place considering she had just been threatened. “Not to worry, Mister Hatcher. We don’t experiment on healthy subjects.”
Healthy “subjects”? Hatcher opened his mouth to reply when the pilot walked over his communications. “We’re on approach. Air speed is below 20 knots if you want to open the door and let them see that it’s you.”
Hatcher gave a thumbs up and stepped toward the side door as one of the soldiers pulled it open. Hatcher felt the wind burst into the cabin and he squinted in order to peer out across the approaching buildings. He felt the craft shift and begin a nearly sideways approach to the warehouse.
The roof sentry was tracking them with the scope of his weapon and reached for his radio when he saw Hatcher in the open doorway of the chopper. His other arm shot straight up in a wave as the craft slowly slid across the sky and hovered just above the rooftop.
Hatcher waited until the wheels settled and bounded from the craft. One of the soldiers tossed him his pack, then Hatcher reached up into the hatchway to grab Buck’s hand. He steadied the young man as he jumped from the craft, then they both turned and gave a wave to the pilots who expertly lifted up and away from the building.
The sentries used their arms to cover their faces as dust, debris, and bits of sand shotgunned across the rooftop. Hatcher approached the closest sentry and reached for the man’s radio. As soon as the buffeting from the rotors had faded, he keyed the radio. “Candy, it’s Hatch. Grab Skeeter and meet me in the office. I’ve got a surprise for her.”
Candy’s voice sounded tinny as it came across the handheld radio. “Roger that, Hatch. It’s damned good to have you home.”
“You can say that again.” Hatcher handed the sentry back his radio and motioned for Buck to follow. “I think you’re going to like it here, kid.”
Simon belched again as the busty woman whose name he couldn’t remember shoved another cup of coffee in front of him. “Drink it.”
“Damn it, woman! I’m not a sponge.” He tried to push the cup away and she pushed it closer to his face.
“You need to drink it and sober up. Your people need you.”
He swallowed the bitter liquid and coughed when some went down the wrong pipe. “You’re choking me.” He coughed and spat, his hands swiping at her.
“This is not the time to be staggering around drunk with your pecker hanging out for the world to see. Save that for when your lieutenants are with you.”
“What difference does it make? They’ll do what I say whether I’m sober or not.”
She stood and glared at him. “The difference is you’ll actually know what to tell them when you’re sober. You’ll be coherent and have the ability to actually think before you shoot your mouth off.” She stepped closer and tilted his head back. “Now drink!”
Simon choked and spat as she poured the warm coffee into his mouth. If she hadn’t been one of his favorite whores, he would have beaten her down for such insolence. But as it was, she was making sense.
Simon suddenly sat upright and pushed her away. “What the hell is that?”
She looked at him as though he had been struck completely stupid. “What is what?”
“Shut up, dammit!” He pushed past her and erupted from the flap of his tent. He walked in slow circles, his eyes fixed to the sky. “Where is that coming from?”
“Where is what coming from?” she asked as she followed him with a fresh cup of coffee.
“That sound!” He stopped and held his breath.
