“I understand that.” Her voice was low and steady. “But think. If it were you, would you attack so soon?” She crossed her arms and gave him that look. “You’d wait and let the targets become complacent. You’d watch from a distance and see if you could slip past their defenses. You’d test their security. You wouldn’t just sneak right back and try to get revenge, would you?”
Simon measured her and her words, his mind connecting the dots with her points. He fished the pain pills from his vest and popped them into his mouth. “I hate that you’re smarter than me sometimes.”
She laughed as she handed him the water. “No you don’t.” She turned and swung her hips as she sashayed back to their RV. “Since we obviously have time…” She left her sentence dangle as she smiled at him seductively.
Simon groaned low in his throat and fell into step with her. “You’re killing me, girl.”
“I can’t think of a better way to die, can you?” She curled her finger at him as she backed into the RV. “In fact, I’m pretty sure that would be my preferred way to go.”
“Birds of a feather, you bitch,” he growled. He stepped up into the RV and pulled her to him, kissing her roughly. “But you’re right. What a way to go.”
They staggered back to the rear of the RV and fell onto the bed. Simon’s head popped up and he cursed. “Dammit. I forgot to shut the door.”
He tried to sit up and she pushed him back down, her eyes gleaming in the gloom of the camper. “Let ‘em hear.”
She pushed him deeper into the mattress and kissed him. He shrugged as he kicked off his boots. “Let ‘em watch for all I care.”
21
Hatcher slowed the truck to navigate around another accident then pulled back onto the paved road. The entire drive he’d been berating himself for attempting this.
“Two and quarter million acres. Nearly thirty-five hundred square miles.” He sighed and rubbed at his neck. “How the hell am I supposed to find one needle in that haystack?”
He slowed the truck for the umpteenth time, debating on turning around. Before he could stop himself, he pushed the accelerator down again and continued driving.
What if I find her? What if she doesn’t want to leave? He shook the thoughts from his mind. “What if I don’t?” He sighed and stared at the fuel gauge again. “How long do I stay there, looking?”
He glanced to the rear seat and made a mental inventory of the food and water he’d brought. “As long as I can.” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and drove on.
He slowed when he saw the sign for I70 and looked ahead. Cars were piled up at all of the interchanges and he ground his teeth. He pulled to the shoulder and slowly approached the congestion.
He could see Interstate 70; there just wasn’t an easy way to get to it. With a groan, he put the truck in neutral and selected four wheel low. “Time to see what this beast will really do.”
He pulled the truck off the road and glanced out the window, monitoring the softness of the ground he drove on. He had no idea the last time this area had gotten rain, but he definitely didn’t want to get the monster stuck, even if it did have a winch on the front.
He maneuvered around the concrete supports and the few cars that had tried to do what he was doing now. He rolled past a Toyota with a big lift kit and what looked like tons of off-roading gear. It sat cocked to the side as if frozen in a mid-rollover. He decided not to rubber neck and forged on.
As Interstate 70 grew closer, so did Hatcher’s hopes. He felt the big tires crunch onto gravel just before they smoothed out on the shoulder of the interstate. He whooped and slapped the dash board. “Now that’s how you build an off roader!”
He slowed the truck and put it into neutral, shifting the rig back into two wheel drive. “Onward and upward.” He put the transmission back into drive and pushed past the abandoned cars on the other side of the interchange.
He could feel his heart racing, the closer he got to the park. “Just hold on, Shelly. I’m coming.”
“It’s definitely a concussion.” Vicky stepped back and looked to Skeeter. “The brain is a wonderfully fragile organ. It doesn’t take much to hurt it, and it can take a long time to heal.”
“What can we do?”
Buck groaned as he sat up. “Lots of sleep.” He squinted in the bright lights of the exam room. “Right?”
Vicky nodded. “I’m not a neurologist, but yes. Time and rest.”
“What can we do about the headaches?” Skeeter asked. “Tylenol and aspirin aren’t cutting it.”
“I know,” Coop called from outside the office. He slowly appeared at the door, his gown hanging off of him. “I had a buddy that got a concussion so bad he ended up with traumatic brain injury.”
Vicky raised a brow at him. “So what do you recommend, Doctor Cooper?”
Coop wagged his eyebrows at her. “Remember, darlin’…I only play a doctor in the bedroom.”
“Oh for—”
“Migraine medicines,” Coop stated flatly. “Stuff like Propranolol and Topiramate. Depakote, if you have it.”
“Wait. Depakote is a seizure med,” Vicky stated.
Coop nodded. “Seems to work for migraines. Concussion induced migraines work the same way.” He shrugged at her. “Trust me.”
Vicky sighed. “Why not? It’s not like any of those are habit forming, and they won’t hurt if they don’t help.” She got up and pulled a box to her. “I just cleaned out the other medicine cabinet and…” She held up a bottle. “I knew I’d seen it.”
She handed the bottle to Skeeter. “I’ll keep looking for the rest. I’ll drop it by your room before I head out.”
She stood and hugged Vicky. “Thank you.”
“No thanks necessary.” She patted her cheek then turned to Buck.
