Hatcher smiled and nodded at the thin man. “Like claymores.”
“Very much so, yes. Except these will also have shrapnel.” Stanton gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere close if they went off.”
“I like the way you think.”
Carol opened the door to Dr. McAlester’s room. “You are free to roam once more.”
“Thank god.” Kevin pushed up from the chair and reached for his lab coat. “How are my experiments?”
“They’re just fine.” She held the door for him. “I logged their growth for you.”
“Thank you.” He stepped out into the hallway and took a deep breath. “Funny how the air smells better when you’re free.”
“If you say so.” She fell into step behind him and almost had to trot to catch up. “You must really be ready to get back to work.”
He glanced at her and shook his head. “I just feel so energized.” He pushed open the lab door and stepped inside. “I was going stir crazy in that room.”
He peered through the glass door of the incubator and smiled. “Hello my wonderful little petri dishes.” He tapped on the glass. “Did you miss me?”
“Oh please.” Carol brushed by him. “They’re not goldfish.”
“No, these are much more important.” He paused and cocked his head to the side. “Where is the second tray?”
She looked up from her notebook and shrugged. “We moved on to mass production. We needed the middle rack to jumpstart the bacterial growth.”
Kevin spun around, his eyes wide. “What did you do with the tray?”
She set her pen down gently and glanced around the room. “I’m almost positive that Dr. Broussard moved it to the storage area in—”
Kevin nearly knocked her over as he jerked open the door to the storage area. “No…oh no…”
“What’s wrong?”
He lowered his head and ground his teeth. “They were the standards. Without them, I have no baseline.”
Carol averted her gaze. “I’m sorry, Kevin. I didn’t realize.”
He shut the door slowly and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.” He sighed heavily and fell into the chair opposite of her workstation. “They wouldn’t have led to a cure, so they weren’t important.”
“What were they for?”
He shook his head slowly. “It doesn’t matter now.” He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. “Temperature variations…but…” he trailed off. “What’s the use?”
She gave him a weak smile. “If it’s any consolation, we have enough samples to send out to the other ships now for mass production. We’ll be able to seed the strep cure into most of the larger cities in a matter of days.”
“Yay,” Kevin deadpanned. He pushed up from chair. “I’m going to find something to eat.”
She watched him walk aimlessly into the hallway and turn toward the mess deck. She’d truly felt bad for having not given his work more credit when they removed the second tray. But she also knew that the cure had to take top priority.
Simon stepped out of the hybrid and shot a smile at Hank. “Well, well, well…who do we have here?”
Hank reached for the pistol on his hip just as Shooter opened fire from the driver’s door. He dove into the side of the pickup and tried to position himself where the tires could provide cover as well.
Trevor put the RV in park and ducked low, praying that no bullets ripped through the cheap metal of the Mercedes cab. He looked back at Patricia and yelled, “Get down!”
She tugged against the seat belt and whimpered to him.
Trevor crawled on hands and knees until he could reach her seatbelt and pressed the button to release it. “Go…hide under the bed! NOW!” He pushed her toward the rear of the RV.
Trevor slowly raised his head and stared through the windshield. He could see Hank squatting behind the bed of the truck, his pistol firing blindly over the edge.
For a moment, he contemplated throwing the RV into reverse and putting as much distance as he could between himself and Simon while Hank kept the bikers busy. He knew he couldn’t outrun the car, especially in town, but if Hank could buy them more time…
He crawled back to the front seat and stayed low as he slid back into the driver’s seat. He watched as Sinner stepped out of the car and tried to flank Hank.
“Son of a bitch.” He reached across the middle of the cab and gripped the AR tightly. “What the hell am I doing?”
He pushed the driver’s door opened and lowered the AR’s barrel, sighting in on Simon’s form hunkered beside the front of the small car. He could just make out his shoulder.
Trevor took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his sights aimed at the black leather shoulder. He centered the pad of his finger on the trigger and as the last of the air left his lungs, he gently squeezed.
The shot and recoil made him lose sight of his target, but he saw Simon’s boots splayed out beside the car. He smiled to himself as he tried to angle over and get a bead on Shooter.
The man had ducked lower and he caught a glimpse of Sinner as he made was his way back toward the car, darting between the camper trailers parked by the roadside.
Trevor had Sinner dead to rights, but couldn’t pull the trigger. He knew that Sinner was just biding time. The man gave him the very rifle he now wielded. He blew his breath out hard and fired two more rounds in the general direction.
He smiled to himself when he saw the holes in the windshield. “Scurry off now, boys. You don’t want none of this.”
He watched as the car shot from the drive, tires squealing as Shooter cut a one-eighty on the paved road. He lowered the rifle and nearly jumped when Hank stood from behind the pickup.
“Where the hell did they come from?”
Trevor assumed the man was talking to him. He
