Rifle reports echoed again as the group flanking to the east broke from cover and ran toward the outer fence. The sentry turned and waved to Hatcher. “The stragglers are breaking off.”
With a huge sigh of relief, Hatcher turned toward the main building. “Eyes open for the hard headed, but I think the worst is over.”
Hatcher entered the common area and met Roger and Candy crossing from the front. “I set the regular watch for the day.” Roger pulled the magazine from his rifle and ejected the chambered round. “I think the attack is over for now.”
“Let’s hope they figure out quickly that this won’t be easy pickings.” Hatcher pushed open the door to his office and fell into his chair. His eyes were closed before the chair leaned all the way back.
“You sleeping in here?” Candy asked as she handed Roger her weapon.
Hatcher nodded. “This way I can be close at hand when the next shit storm hits us.”
She huffed and crossed her arms. Had his eyes been open, he’d have seen her glaring at him. “Your room is just down the hall. Everybody knows where it is.”
“This is still closer.” Hatcher yawned and stretched before turning his head to the side and trying to fall asleep.
Candy stepped aside as Vicky pushed her way into the office. “I’ve got Coop stabilized.”
Hatcher immediately sat up and blinked rapidly. “How’s he doing?” He sniffed hard and searched his desk for his coffee cup.
“For now, I think he’s out of the woods.” She sighed and sat across from him. “I really wish we had a supply of blood.”
Hatcher stared at her and blinked, unsure what to say. “Do…do we have a way to…” He rubbed at his eyes. “Could we store it?”
Vicky shook her head. “No, but I think we need to make a list of potential donors. Cross check their blood types, get a medical history, the whole shebang.”
Hatcher nodded quickly. “Whatever you think, sis.”
She stood up and stared at him. “You need to rest. You look like you’re running on reserves.”
Hatcher shook his head. “My reserves ran out just before the attack.” He held his hands up and there was a slight tremor. “This is adrenaline burning off.”
“I’ll get you a sedative.” She turned for the door.
“No.” He stood and stretched his neck. “Candy’s right.” He ignored Candy’s feigned look of shock. “I’m going to my room and if anybody needs me, it had better be an emergency.”
“I’m fresh, Hatch.” Candy patted his shoulder. “Me and Rog will take turns holding the fort while you rest.”
“Appreciate it.” Hatcher paused at the door and lowered his voice to Vicky. “Should I check on the old coot?”
She smiled and shook her head. “He’s sleeping right now. Which you should be doing too.” She pushed him out of the door. “If anything changes, I’ll let you know.”
Hatcher half staggered down the hall and pushed open the door to his room. He could just make out the bare bones of the room in the early morning light and sighed heavily. “My office is more of a home than this is.”
He pushed the door shut and collapsed on the bed. “Just five more minutes, mom…”
Carol’s eyes snapped open and she sat up in the seat of the car. She stared through the windshield then slowly opened the door. “Andre?”
“Over here.” He held up a gas can, a short length of hose in his hand. “I found a large truck but it was diesel. Luckily, there were more than a few cars parked on the side of the road that still had fuel in them.”
He flipped open the gas door and unscrewed the cap on the little car. She sat on the passenger seat and rubbed at her eyes. “I can’t believe I fell asleep.”
“Your nerves are most likely shot from last night.” He tilted the can and leaned against the side of the car. “So. Have you given much thought to where we might look for a lab to set up in?”
She shook her head. “I know of one in Long Beach and I’m pretty sure there’s another in Salinas.”
Broussard raised a brow at her. “And do you know where these places actually are?”
She shook her head. “I used to say that Google was my friend but considering it’s the end of the world…” She shrugged. “Maybe we can follow the road signs to the town then…I dunno. Look for a yellow pages?”
He raised a brow at her. “You’re speaking Greek, chère.”
“It’s a phone directory. They used to be printed on yellow paper, hence the name.”
Broussard nodded as he screwed the cap back on. “I think that should be close.”
She gave him a puzzled look. “That can’t be more than three or four gallons.”
“Yes, but that was the fourth can that I’ve poured in. If it’s not full, it’s full enough.” He tossed the hose and the can in the trunk of the car. “I’m sick of sucking petrol into my mouth.”
“Sorry.” She quickly tugged her hair back into a ponytail and pulled the elastic band from her wrist to hold it. “You should have woke me. I could have siphoned some for you.”
“Then we’d both smell of unleaded and have headaches from the hydrocarbons.” He shook his head. “I’ll let you do the next fuel stop.”
She sat back in the seat and pulled her door shut. She seemed unusually quiet as he started the car and pulled back onto the road. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I can’t help but wonder…”
“About?”
“About what I’m doing.” She faced him. “What we’re doing.”
“I thought we had already settled the matter.”
She shook her head. “Considering all the people who have been lost while we looked for a cure…” She sat up straighter in her seat and squared her shoulders. “And I don’t mean the general populace, either. I mean the people who were actively looking for the cure.”
Broussard nodded. “I believe what you are experiencing might be called ‘survivor’s guilt.’”
She shook her head. “No, it’s not
