“I said DRIVE.”
Hank stiffened and turned his eyes back to the road. “I was just saying…”
He turned on his blinker out of habit and pulled the truck into the lot. “This is the place, right?”
Trevor nodded. “Keep your eyes peeled for Ragers. We ran into a group earlier.”
“During the day?” Hank whistled low. “They must be desperate. I haven’t seen a Zulu out in daylight in a long time.”
Trevor stepped out of the truck and tucked Patricia under his jacket to shield her. He quickly made his way to the shop and ran her into the corner. “You stay in here. Stay in the dark and wait for me.” He stared into her eyes. “I’ll be right back.”
Trevor stepped back out of the shop and into the harsh light of day. “I’ll find the keys for another one. It will be a lot easier to just siphon the gas from ours instead of trying to fix the front axle.”
Hank shook his head. “Man, I really am sorry.”
“So you said.” Trevor kicked open the door to the sales office and leveled the rifle. “Ollie ollie oxen free. Come and get some hot lead you fuckers.”
He stood still and strained his ears, listening for any sounds of movement. He finally let out the breath he was holding and stepped into the office, his feet crunching on the broken glass. He pushed open the manager’s door and pulled the pegboard from the wall. He snatched a handful of keys that were on either side of the class C coach he had stolen earlier then stepped out into the sun again.
He held the keys up and walked toward the RVs. He found the inventory number on the first one and rifled through the keys. “Damn it.” He walked to the next one in line and compared them to the keys as well.
“It might go faster if you pick the one you want first.” Hank gave him a grin.
“Mind your business, fucktard.” Trevor pushed past him and read the number off of the next one. He pulled the key out of the pile and dropped the others to the ground. “A fucking Mercedes. Who turns an import into a camper?”
He slid the key into the lock and opened the door. With a quick twist, the engine slowly cranked then barked with life. He smiled broadly and pulled the transmission into D then maneuvered the coach across the lot and into the shop.
He hopped from the cab and clapped his hands at Patricia. “Come on baby girl. We’re going.” He glanced back toward Hank. “Again.”
He got her situated in the back and wished like hell he had the time to create bars for the windows. He climbed back into the cab and nearly jumped when Hank appeared at the window.
“What?”
“You want to follow me back or…you remember the way?”
“Of course I remember,” he glared at the man, “but…I’ll follow you.”
Hank nodded and turned back for his truck.
Trevor pulled the camper through the shop and back around to the lot. As he approached the pickup a reflection of sunlight caught his eye.
He stared in amazement as a small hybrid car pulled in, blocking their exit. He felt his blood run cold when Simon stepped out of the passenger side.
Chapter 7
Hatcher continued to drink coffee and walk slowly through the courtyard. He could still feel the effects of the alcohol in his system as he checked each guard station. He motioned Roger over. “Send a team out. I want more of those scaffolds set up on each wall.”
Roger gave him a curious look. “We got two stations on each wall and two men in the lookout. That should be plenty.”
Hatcher raised a brow at him. “It wasn’t a request.” He turned and marched toward the guard tower leaving Roger in a cloud of confusion. “What’s your line of sight from there?”
The larger of the two men shrugged. “About a hundred yards in any direction. Inside of that and our own buildings block our view.”
“How far past that hundred yards?”
The man shrugged. “Depends on the direction. To the north we have the open field, so it goes quite a way; the east is pretty clear too. The buildings on the south and west could provide a lot of cover if someone…or some thing decided to sneak up on us.”
Hatcher glanced in the directions he mentioned. “Maybe we should station lookouts out there, beyond the fences.”
The man shrugged. “We’re stretching our sentries pretty thin as it is.” He leaned against the rail of the fort and gave Hatcher a nod. “Could we use the cameras?”
Hatcher turned and studied the devices. He glanced back toward the residential area to the west. “Maybe we can get some wireless cameras and jury rig them into the system.” He spun a slow circle, looking for Will. “Where’s Stanton?”
The lookout pointed to the greenhouse being erected. “Last I seen him he was in there.”
Will stepped out of the enclosure, his head already shaking. “The system isn’t compatible with wireless cameras.” He approached Hatcher and lowered his voice. “However, we could use proximity sensors, like the kind on security lights, except they would notify us of movement.”
“No way to get images?”
Stanton shook his head. “Not with the system we have installed.”
Hatcher sighed heavily and turned to face the residential area again. “I don’t want to get caught with our pants around our ankles again.”
Stanton pushed his glasses back up onto his nose. “Technically, we weren’t. Our sentries spotted the would-be attackers right away.”
Hatcher shook his head. “I want as much heads-up as we can get.” He pointed to the residential area again. “Imagine how many Zulus could hide just in that area.” He raised a brow at Stanton. “Now imagine them all attacking at once.”
Stanton crossed his arms and imagined a force of infected storming the walls. “I am working on the explosives we discussed. I think once they’re ready, we could
