He turned and stomped back to the aisle with more alcohol and pulled the closest bottle from the shelf. As he fumbled with the cap he stared at his army lying on the floor and fought the urge to scream again.
“Tomorrow.” He took a long pull from the bottle then wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “Tomorrow we feast on the dumb, slow ones.”
Chapter 18
Hatcher paced the small courtyard, his attention bouncing from the skies to the front gates to the sides of the compound that he felt were vulnerable.
“Suddenly that moat sounds pretty good, don’t it?”
He spun and caught the smirk across Hank’s face. “I told you that you could build it.”
“Yeah, yeah. It was the bridge that you demanded that threw me off.” Hank inhaled deeply of the night air and let it out slowly. “Is it just me or does the air smell sweeter these days? Maybe it’s the lack of cars.”
“I think it’s your imagination.” Hatcher slipped his hands into his pockets and continued to stare skyward.
“What are you looking for?” Hank craned his neck to stare upward.
Hatcher slowly shook his head. “I don’t know. Another plane maybe.”
“Or maybe the Zulus sprouted wings and will attack like the monkeys in Wizard of Oz.”
Hatcher snorted a short laugh. “We’d really be boned then, wouldn’t we?”
“Depends on how good you are at skeet shooting I guess.” Hank nodded then pointed to the small RV parked outside the fence. “I heard that they were gonna pull up stakes and head for the hills.”
Hatcher eyed the small RV and nodded. “I told him I thought it was a bad idea. Maybe he took it to heart.”
“I never thought I’d say it, but I think I’d miss having her around.” Hank smiled at an unspoken memory. “When they showed up, I was a bit spooked. But seeing that kid gave me hope.”
Hatcher raised a brow at him. “How so?”
“Well, I mean, we got plenty of kids around here. But she’s a Zulu.” He shrugged. “Except she’s not. Not really.”
“I know what you mean.” Hatcher’s voice went soft and low. “If she could be tame, perhaps others could be as well.”
“Yeah, something like that.” Hank gave him a crooked smile. “Like maybe somewhere out there is a community of Zulus that are just going about their business without trying to kill the rest of us, ya know?”
Hatcher slowly shook his head. “That might be a bit of a stretch.”
“Maybe.” Hank stretched then turned for the door. “But the world is a big place. You never know.”
Hatcher watched him walk away then turned his attention back to the skies. “I don’t think I’d hold my breath if I were you, buddy.” He climbed the ladder to the sentry station. “Anything?”
The man shook his head slowly, still scanning the horizon. “Quiet as a cemetery.”
“Nice choice of words,” Hatcher muttered. He lifted his own set of binoculars and scanned the area. “Not so much as a coyote.”
“Like I said.” The sentry sipped at his coffee and continued to gaze outward. “You feel it, too?”
“What’s that?”
“That there’s something out there. Just waiting.” He lowered his voice even more. “Like there are constantly eyes on us.”
Hatcher nodded almost imperceptibly. “That’s why I wanted you boys diligent.”
“Trust me, we are.” The man cleared his throat and nodded toward the main building. “Most of us have families here, too.”
Hatcher leaned against the railing and crossed his arms. “Tell me something. You were one of the Marauder refugees, right?” The sentry nodded. “I got into a bit of a pissing contest with a fella from your group. He said I was as bad as Simon because I withheld information.” He turned and met his gaze to better judge the man’s reaction. “Do you agree with that assessment?”
The sentry scoffed and took another drink of his coffee. “Either he’s an idiot or he wasn’t with Simon for very long.”
“Why do you say that?”
The sentry turned and gave him a smirk. “Simon was all about Simon. He got the best of the food we found. When he wasn’t stumbling drunk, he was screwing any female in the clan. He would double cross his own people in a heartbeat if it meant he could come out on top.” He spat on the floor of the shack. “The man was worse than a turd.”
Hatcher cringed and patted the man’s shoulder. “Sorry to dredge up old memories.”
“Not old enough,” the sentry mumbled. “I’m glad that Simon bought it the way he did. He was a sick and twisted individual. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Rager that ate him didn’t catch something.” He turned back to the edge and lifted his binoculars. “They seem almost tame compared to him.”
Carol double checked the windows before she struck the match, lighting the small candle that would keep her company through most of the night. She double checked the locks on the doors and rifled through her meager supplies.
She used the candle to light a gas burner and placed a wide mouthed beaker atop the metal stand. The can of soup that she poured into the beaker didn’t look appealing but the aromas that wafted from the bubbling mass made her mouth water.
She stirred the mix while it heated and carefully tested it with her finger. She wanted it warm, but not so hot that she’d have to wait to eat.
When it was warm enough she sat on the floor and dipped the stale crackers into it, washing the mess down with a room temperature Fresca.
She fought the urge to cry.
Being left behind had her both frightened and relieved. She cursed herself silently as she ate the soup up. “How could I have been so misguided?” She thumped her head lightly against the concrete block wall. “I can’t believe that I risked both of our lives because…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words out loud.
She finished her calorie-deficient meal in silence then used a small amount of the bottled
