“She has…tummy issues.”
Hank spat again and did a quick farmer’s blow to clear his nose. “Must have been somebody she ate.” He glared at Trevor. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that you were transporting a Zulu?”
“I told you to mind your fucking business.” Trevor glanced around the cab for his AR. “You can walk from here.”
Hank shook his head as he climbed back into the RV and slammed the door. “No fucking way.” He turned so that he could keep an eye on the girl. “If you show up without me, Wally will skin you alive and probably kill her, too.”
Trevor stiffened. “Don’t threaten my baby.”
Hank held his hands up. “I ain’t threatening nobody.” He refused to take his eyes off of her tiny form as she made her way to the back of the RV and lay down on the mattress. “I’m just saying that if you want to get gassed up and out of here, I need to ride back with you.”
Trevor’s jaw quivered in anger as he made his way forward and slid into the driver’s seat. “Not a fucking word about her, understand?”
Hank snorted as Trevor put the camper into gear. “Right. Like that’s gonna happen.” He leaned against the passenger door and continued to watch as she curled into a fetal position and closed her eyes. “How’d she get like that?”
“How the hell should I know.” Trevor’s eyes scanned the area as he drove. “I found her that way.”
Hank turned and stared at him. “She’s not your real kid?”
Trevor glared at him. “She is now. That’s all that matters.”
Hank sighed heavily and turned his attention back to the girl. “She’s never…attacked you?”
Trevor shook his head. “She actually stood up to her own kind to protect me.” He sniffed back a tear and choked, the stench still strong in the small camper. He quickly rolled down his window to air out the vehicle. “I found her and she needed me.”
Hank gave him a curious look. “Sounds to me like you needed each other.”
Trevor gave him a hateful stare then slowly his features softened. “You’re not going to try to hurt her are you?”
Hank shook his head. “If she ain’t hurting me, there’s no reason to hurt her.” He turned his attention back to her still form. “She’s just a kid.”
Trevor slowly nodded. “She’s been through a lot.”
Hank turned back to him. “Did she just call you ‘dah’?”
“She don’t talk much.” He cleared his throat and glanced in the rear view mirror. “She can say ‘dahdee;’ pretty sure it means daddy.”
Hank snorted. “That’s actually kind of cool.”
Trevor gave him another dirty look. “How’s that?”
“It’s just I didn’t think that any of them could make a coherent thought much less try to talk.”
“Well, she can.” He glanced at her again then added, “She’s my little girl. We’re watching out for each other.”
Hank gave him a slow nod. “I got ya.” He turned and stared out the windshield. “What’s the deal with the stink, man?”
Trevor shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve been feeding her people food.” He shrugged. “Maybe it don't agree with her system. But she’s trying. She’s trying real hard.” He smiled softly. “She loves peaches.”
Hank placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Good for her.” He swallowed hard then turned back to him. “I still think you should consider giving the compound another try.”
Trevor gave him a wild eyed stare. “Are you stupid? They’d never let her in there.”
Hank shrugged slowly. “Maybe if they knew that they could be reached…?” He glanced back at her sleeping form. “Once they saw that she wasn’t a threat…I don't know, man. It could change things.”
Trevor shook his head. “Would you let your kids play with her? Would you let her run loose around ‘normal’ folks?” He shook his head more vigorously. “No. You wouldn’t.”
“I’m just saying—”
“And if it was anybody else, I wouldn’t either.” Trevor cut him off. “No. We’re better off on our own.”
Hank sat back and nodded. “If you say so. But you know, there is safety in numbers.”
Trevor snorted. “Funny. Simon used to say the same thing.”
Chapter 9
Hatcher twirled a quarter on the surface of his desk, his hands busy while his mind sifted through old memories. Why did she have to mention that old mutt?
Images of Freeway ran through his mind. He smiled to himself and felt his eyes getting misty when he remembered the day he buried his beloved, faithful friend.
“What was that other dog’s name? Ranger?” He tapped the quarter on the desktop, trying in vain to remember the dog. He had a vague recollection of a black collie mix, but…time was a bitch on memories.
Hatcher sat back and sighed heavily. Was Vicky right? He groaned as he sat forward again. “That would be the worst part…”
“What would be?”
Hatcher spun and caught Roger coming in the back. “If my sister was right. I’d never live it down.”
Roger reached for the coffee pot and poured a quick cup. “Women usually are right, Hatch. Get used to it.”
“You have to say that or Candy’d have your nuts.”
Roger snorted and set the cup down. “She already does. I think she keeps them in a jar on her dresser.”
“Not funny.”
Roger leaned against the file cabinet and nodded toward him. “So what is Vicky right about?”
Hatcher blew his breath out slowly and slid the quarter into the desk drawer. “She thinks that I’m pushing people away now. Keeping them at arm’s length so I don't get attached.” He shrugged. “In case I lose them.”
Roger sipped the coffee and nodded. “Makes sense. In a ‘chick’ sort of way.”
“I won’t tell anybody you said that.” He gave Roger a knowing look. “In case you ever want to see those balls again.”
Roger cut him a cheesy grin and held the cup up in salute. “Thanks.”
Hatcher leaned back in his chair again and eyed Roger. “I guess I owe you an apology.”
Roger hiked a
