“The bad virus or the cure virus?”
“Both.”
“He smells of death.” The hunter carefully eyed the others. “He won’t last long.”
“He is alpha,” the last remaining female stated.
The hunter narrowed his gaze at her. “Only because of his boomstick.” He glanced to Simon’s sleeping form then back to the others. “Take it and he is no longer alpha.”
The woman shook her head. “He will kill you.”
The hunter scoffed. “He can’t even stand.”
“He will kill,” Another hunter stated, stepping closer and lowering his voice. “He will eat your heart and—” The older hunter stared wide eyed and the others stepped back.
“What?” The hunter asked just before he felt the cold steel of Simon’s boomstick press to the back of his neck.
“I don’t want to kill you.” Simon’s voice was dry and raspy. “I may need you for the next attack.” He pressed the barrel tighter to the hunter’s neck. “But I can’t have you talking about me behind my back either.”
The hunter swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he slowly raised them. “No weapon.”
“Don’t care.” Simon pushed the man forward, watching as he stumbled and fell. He lowered the barrel of the shotgun and seemed to sway in place from the effort of holding it.
“No kill.” The hunter squeezed his eyes shut and turned away from the weapon.
Simon looked up at the last female. She had been on the war party and returned with the others. She didn’t slip out and disappear like those traitors had. “What do you think?”
She glanced down at the hunter then back up at Simon. She shook her head slightly. “He’s not mine.”
Simon smiled at her and motioned her to him with his chin. “I think you’ll have the pleasure of being mine now.” He slowly lowered the shotgun and sneered at the hunter on the floor. “If you even think of trying to take over again, I’ll kill you.” He spat at the man then squared his shoulders. “The only reason you’re alive is because I might need you in the next battle.” He looked down at the man who slowly scrambled away. “Tell me you understand.”
The hunter nodded vigorously. “I do.”
“Good.” Simon turned and leaned entirely too much on the female. “Take me to my bed and I’ll let you lay with me.”
The hunter watched the pair stagger towards the far end of the store and slowly came to his feet.
“I told you,” the older hunter stated plainly.
The younger hunter nodded slowly. “He’s dangerous.”
“We told you that, too.”
The younger hunter nodded as he backed away. He paused and turned to the older hunter. “Dangerous does not mean good.”
The older hunter shook his head. “There is no good in him.” He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at his temples. “Or us.”
4
Hatcher hugged the wall of the grocery store, his ears straining for any sounds as he crept closer to the door. He could hear his own boots crunch with sand or broken glass under the soles and each sound echoed like a gunshot to him. He glanced back at Buck and noted that the young man appeared cool as a cucumber, his feet soundless as he followed.
As the pair approached the open glass doors, Hatcher froze and listened intently. He could hear muffled sounds from inside. If he didn’t know any better, he could almost imagine a dog rifling through garbage.
He inhaled deeply and nearly gagged as the breeze shifted. He instantly breathed through his mouth to ward off the stench and immediately regretted it. He could almost taste the filth.
He glanced to Buck, who merely scrunched his nose and waved a hand in front of his face.
Hatcher continued to breathe through his mouth, fighting the urge to throw up as he moved closer to the door. He froze when a Zulu appeared in the doorway. The creature stared out into the daylight, its hand covering the top of its eyes. It stood in the shade of the overhead and peered across the open parking lot, to the sparse stand of trees on the other side.
The creature reached down with its other hand and pulled its rudimentary breechcloth down, urinating on the cement. Once it was finished relieving itself, it turned and walked back into the store.
Hatcher blew out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and waved Buck back away from the door. Once they were around the corner and out of possible eyesight, Hatcher squatted to the ground and braced himself on the outer wall of the store. “That was too close.”
Buck stood over him and stared at the same area the Zulu had been staring at. “I wonder what he was looking for?”
“Who cares?” Hatcher nearly panted, trying to get the taste out of his mouth. He slowly came to his feet and placed both hands on the side of the building. To a passerby, he looked like he was trying to push the building over. In reality, he was still trying to catch his breath. “That’s entirely too close for my tastes.”
Buck nodded as he slid his pistol back into its holster. “I’m still trying to figure out how Simon worked his way into their group.”
“Does it matter?” Hatcher coughed and tried to spit the taste from his mouth. “How does anybody live with that kind of stench?”
Buck shrugged. “You tend not to notice your own stink.” He shot Hatcher a crooked grin. “Ask me how I know.”
“I had a dog with parvo once,” Hatcher spat again. “That smells a helluva lot like what leaked out of that pup.”
Buck stiffened. “How do we get them out?” He raised a brow at Hatcher. “Trying to go after them on their own turf would be suicide. We can’t know how many are in there or where they’re hiding.”
Hatcher turned around and pressed his back to the warming block wall of the grocery. “The only thing that comes to mind
