Hatcher looked up to the sky. “What about those personal drones? The RC ones that anybody could buy?”
Buck shook his head. “Unless they had access to a power source, there’s no way to charge them. And who has grenades?”
Hatcher shrugged. “I’m sure there’s some rolling around somewhere. The military fell pretty quickly.”
Buck sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You may be right. There may be some glaring weakness in our defenses that we just can’t see. But you’re gonna give yourself ulcers worrying about it.” He patted the older man’s back. “I say sit back and relax while you can. When that weakness is uncovered, we’ll deal with it. Just like we always do. Then we can figure out a way to prevent it from happening again.” He gave Hatcher a mock salute then trotted down the hall.
Hatcher watched him go and shook his head. “But how many people have to die in order for us to recognize that weakness?”
Carol watched as the men made a train, tossing sensitive pieces of lab equipment like they were beachballs. The men in the small craft stacked it as neatly as they could, but the clock was ticking.
“How much more time do they have?” Carol asked.
The chief checked his watch. “Just minutes.” He sighed and reached for the coms. “I’m calling them off. You’ll just have to make do with what they got.”
“No, wait!” Kevin pleaded. “Just have them empty the incubator. Bring me my samples.”
The chief shook his head. “You don’t understand. If they aren’t clear of that ship when the charges blow, the concussion can take out their vessel as well.” He clicked the coms, “Bug out, now. T minus nine and counting.”
The researchers watched the small screen as the men began pouring out of the steel hatch, making their way toward the escape craft. Broussard was on his feet, staring at the screen. “They do a head count, oui?”
The chief rolled his eyes. “Of course. They account for everybody and all of their gear.”
They watched as the men slid down the ropes and into their craft. They watched from one man’s helmet cam as the operator started the engine while the men boarded. “Let’s move it! Move it! Move it!”
The last man slipped into the rear of the boat and squeezed the shoulder of the man ahead of him. The signal was passed forward until the closest man to the driver motioned to him. “Go!”
The engine roared and the small craft pulled away from the old frigate. Carol watched the screen as the operators bounced on the open ocean. One man turned back and watched to ensure the explosives went off at the proper time.
He zoomed in the camera and they all watched the Kauffman as it prepared to die. The chief began the countdown, “Five, four, three—”
Carol gasped. “Oh my god! There’s somebody still onboard!”
The chief bent over her shoulder and could just make out the silhouette of a person running across the deck of the ship. About halfway forward, the charges blew just below the water line, sending sprays of water upward and rocking the Kauffman where she sat.
“Sweet Mary, mother of…” The chief swallowed. “That couldn’t be one of ours.”
Carol turned wide eyes to him. “Could somebody survive out there alone?”
The chief shook his head. “Not unless they were a trained SEAL. The closest vessel is over two miles away.”
She sighed and leaned back in her chair. She looked to Broussard who gave her a slight shrug. He mouthed, “I don’t know.”
Carol didn’t say it aloud, but she silently hoped that the men who carelessly retrieved their equipment came back one man short.
“This is bullshit!” Simon kicked the chair over and stomped through the house. “How could nobody have seen that slimy sumbitch sneak off?”
Shooter shrugged, his eyes still heavy from lack of sleep. “I did my best, boss.”
Simon cursed again and pointed down the hall. “I guaran-gawddam-tee you that if Sinner had been one hundred percent, the little bastard would still be here.”
Shooter nodded weakly, shame and exhaustion taking their toll on him. “I can go search for him if you want.”
Simon shook his head. “No. I’ve lost one man already. I can’t afford to lose another.”
Shooter rubbed at his jaw. “You don’t think he ran off to be with them locals do ya?”
“The Cagers?” Simon shook his head. “I want to say no. His old lady really messed with his head. But then another part of me thinks that he just might try to win her back.”
“I can go and check.” Shooter shrugged. “If you want.”
Simon held a finger up. “Wait a minute. I’m gonna talk to Sinner.” He marched down the hallway and pushed the door open. “You awake?”
Sinner jerked in the bed, his eyes popping open. “I am now.”
“You any idea where Stinky would run off to?”
Sinner stared at him blankly. “Stinky ran off?”
“Dammit! I wouldn’t have asked if he were still here.” He shook his head at the larger man. “What the hell pills did he give you anyway?”
“Good ones.” Sinner tucked the pillow case under his hips. “When did Stinky run off?”
“Who knows. Sleazy little douchemonkey hauled ass in the middle of the night when normal people sleep.” He pulled the blinds up and stared out the window. “He’s probably scattered across a half dozen lawns right now in the shape of Rager turds.”
Sinner nodded. “Probably.” He looked at Simon and raised a brow. “After you cleaned out that house across the way, did you see any signs of others?”
Simon shook his head as the night’s adventures played back in his mind. He smiled to himself then squared his shoulders. “No. I didn’t see nothing.” He cursed again and threw his hands in the air. “I knew I should have shot that bastard when I had the chance.”
Sinner nodded absently. “Yeah, you sure should have.” He yawned and rolled onto his good shoulder. “Pull those blinds
