“I’m not following you.”
He turned and stared at the floor where he’d found Buck. “Something Buck said keeps replaying in my head and…”
“What?” She stepped closer. “What’s eating at you?”
Hatcher pointed back to the window. “It’s maybe twenty or thirty yards to where we were when he opened fire. Even staggering drunk, he should have been able to hit one of us.” He turned slowly and pointed to the end of the couch. “They had Buck. All they had to do was squeeze the trigger….”
“Like I said, he’s lucky he survived the encounter.”
Hatcher slowly his head. “No.” He looked to his sister and fought with the hundred different notions running through his head, each jockeying for the lead position. “No, he chose not to kill us.”
“Why?” She planted her hands on her hips. “Why would a psychopath like him choose not to do you in?”
Hatcher slowly shook his head. “I don’t know.” He gave her a grave look. “The only thought that makes any sense is…he wanted us alive so he could keep torturing us.”
Broussard rolled over and stared at his watch again. Sleep had evaded him as he replayed the mess they found themselves in. He sighed as he sat up and swung his feet off the edge of the narrow mattress.
Glancing at the artificial light coming from under the door, he wasn’t sure if it was daylight or dark outside. He reached for the files again and flipped open the one that Carol chose.
“Dr. Tamara Punch. Biologist, specializing in blood-borne diseases.” He sighed as he tossed the file back to the table.
He slowly stood and stretched when a soft knock at his door caught his attention. He pulled the door open. “You should knock louder.”
Carol looked up at him, her face unreadable. “I can’t sleep.”
“Nor can I.” He held the door open, and she stepped inside. “I keep thinking about the ramifications of our inevitable failure.”
“Don’t say that.” She sat down heavily on the mattress and held her head in her hands. “You’re the smartest man I know.”
“These days, that’s not saying much.” He closed the door and sat at the small, folding table. “I think your options are quite limited at the moment.” He smiled at his joke, but she ignored him.
“If it turns out that we can’t devise a cure, we fake it until we can find a way to escape.”
He sighed and stared at the messed up ponytail slung over her shoulder. “I doubt they’ll give us the opportunity.”
She looked up at him. “We make it part of the deal. We’ve been cooped up inside a ship all this time. If they want our best work, we need to be allowed to go outside. Breathe some fresh air. Walk around. Exercise.”
He shrugged slightly. “I’m sure it would be under armed supervision.”
“So?” She sat back and stared at him. “Eventually, they’ll lower their guard. Then, we run.”
“Where?” He leaned closer, his voice guarded. “Where could we possibly run to that the president couldn’t send forces out for us?”
“I don’t know. But I’d rather die running than cowering in a corner in this…monstrosity.”
“Oui. As would I.”
She sat up and squared her shoulders. “Then we make that part of the bargain. If they want our help, we need something in return.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “And not just ‘the chance to live’ or whatever other bullshit they throw at us.”
“Agreed.” He slowly came to his feet and handed her the file. “Dr. Punch it is.”
Carol took the file and nodded. She came to her feet and reached for the door. “I’ll notify Higgins that he and…” She paused and glanced at the file name, “Tamara have been selected for the team.”
“Very well.” Broussard stretched then reached for his bag. “In the meantime, I’m going to find a shower.”
She shot him a seductive smile. “Keep the water hot for me. I’ll join you shortly.”
“Found them!” Simon held the keys up. “Now we just pray that the battery is still charged.”
Lana fell into step with him as they emerged from the main office. “Tell me again how this works?”
“The generator runs off the gas tank; there’s a separate line going to it. It provides the electricity for the living compartment.” He held the gate open for her as she walked through. “They usually set them up so that the generator can’t drain your tank. I think there’s some kinda warning at, like, a quarter tank left. That’s so you can drive to the next gas station and fill up.”
“What about the car part?”
“What about it?” Simon spun the keys on his finger as they walked back out to the RV.
“Does it run off the same batteries as the rest of the rig?”
“Some do, some don’t.” He stood in front of the RV she had chosen and grinned. “I know this one has extra batteries, but I don’t know if they’re charged from the engine or the generator.”
She sighed as she opened the door. “So we pray that it starts.” She reached for the keys, and he placed them in her hand. “If it doesn’t, we’ll find a battery that’s charged and jump it.”
She inserted the keys into the ignition and looked at him. “Here goes nothing.”
She twisted; the engine turned over slightly before a repeated clicking sound came from under the hood. She looked up at him again. “I take it that’s not great.”
Simon shrugged. “We jump it, that’s all. No problem.” He held a finger up. “Stay here.”
She stepped out of the cab and glared at him. “You aren’t gonna wrestle a car battery with one hand.” She slipped the keys into her pocket then caught up to him. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that before I go pulling batteries and hoping one is good, I’m gonna look in the shop and see if they have a portable jumper.”
“A what?”
“It’s like a battery pack but with a handle. Smaller, lighter, has a lot more
