“Remember,” Hilliard reiterated. “Nobody even gets out of the trucks until my people have cleared the building.” He pointed at the two. “The entire building.”
“We understand,” Irene replied. “Are you coming with us?”
He shook his head. “My responsibilities are here, but I’m sending good people with you.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Where is Broussard? He should be here for this as well.”
“They’re finishing up the packing. The more volatile stuff,” David added. He crossed his arms defensively. “Apparently only they can ensure the stuff is packed for safe transport.”
Hilliard nodded. “Makes sense.” He didn’t see David bristle at the comment. “Make sure they know to stay in the vehicles. We can’t know what to expect there.”
“Understood.” Irene pulled the papers from his grip and tucked them into her folder. “Anything else?”
Hilliard nodded. “Communications may be sketchy at first. Once we have them fully established, the general wants daily reports.”
Irene raised a brow. “Daily? That will eat up a lot of our man hours.”
Hilliard shrugged. “Nobody said it has to be in depth. He just wants to be kept abreast of your work. Especially successes.” He gave her a knowing look.
“Ah, so he can take credit for it with his higher ups. Gotcha.”
Hilliard pressed his finger to his nose. “Just a brief summary of what’s going on.” He stiffened slightly. “Plus, if there’s anything new that crops up we’ll have an idea what to expect, or, worst case scenario, to come and pull you all out of there.”
“That’s reassuring,” David mumbled.
“Doc, with all that’s happened this past year, I wouldn’t be surprised if the dead came back to life.”
David’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “Don’t even tease about that.” He glanced at Irene and flushed. “I’ve always been afraid of zombies.”
She scoffed then turned toward the trucks. “Let’s wrap it up. We have a long way to go and we want to be there by morning.”
Hilliard sighed heavily and extended his hand. “Good luck out there.”
David shook his hand and gave him a cautious look. “Seriously…don’t tease about zombies.”
Simon fished in his pocket and pulled out the sleeping pills. He shook out a couple and handed them to Lana. “Vee says if you have neurological damage, sleep helps. She wants you to get plenty of rest.”
Lana took the pills from him and tossed them back. She washed them down and pulled the comforter up under her chin.
Simon sat beside her and tugged at his boots. She reached across the bed and rubbed at his back. “Can you forgive me?”
“For what?”
“For everything that I…” She swallowed hard and gave him a sad smile. “For everything?”
Simon shook his head. “There’s nothing to forgive you for.” He dropped his other boot beside the bed and stretched out next to her. “That’s like apologizing for catching a cold or…”
“No, it’s not.” She looked away from him and sighed. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“You said it was like somebody else was pulling the strings. To me, that says that you weren’t in complete control.”
She yawned and her eyelids drooped. “But it was still me that did it.”
He bent over and kissed her forehead. “Everything’s gonna be okay.” He snuggled in next to her and closed his eyes.
He listened to her rhythmic breathing and knew almost exactly when she fell asleep. Her long inhale and hard exhale told him that she was dancing with the sandman. He pulled back slightly and looked at her face in the growing gloom and noted when her eyes began to move. He knew that REM meant a deep sleep and she probably wouldn’t be waking up any time soon.
He sat up gently and picked his boots up from the floor. He tiptoed out of the bedroom and gently shut the door behind him.
He sat in the living room and laced his boots back up before stepping out into the chilly evening air. The central fire had about died down, and all the other campers had retreated to their trailers and RVs for the night.
He carried his folding chair to the fire and added more wood to the embers, willing them to revive the flame. He sat quietly, flexing his wounded arm while watching the flames slowly crawl up the split wood.
Simon sighed and leaned back in the chair, his mind replaying the events of the last few days. Was it his feelings for Veronica or his disgust in Lana that had driven this wedge between him and both women?
He snorted a chuckle as he realized, good guys really do finish last.
He had spent all of this time and energy trying to be this new and improved version of himself, and what had t gotten him? A crazy girlfriend that liked to devour live animals on one hand and a woman so far out of his league that he couldn’t think of anything but her on the other.
Simon grabbed the stick he used to poke the fire and watched as embers cracked and spat, riding upward on the light breeze. He studied the flames, how they danced as they consumed the wood.
Simon sighed at how much he enjoyed watching the flames. They allowed him to be lost in thought. Nothing tugging at his heart strings. No guilt. No desires. Just watching the flames.
He glanced back at the RV, then, without thinking, he looked at Veronica’s trailer. He could see shadows of her moving inside and he wished suddenly that he’d just kept staring at the flames. Now he imagined her going through her nightly routine, getting ready to sleep. Not a care in the world.
He poked the fire again and watched as the sparks rose on the waves of heated air once more. He followed them as they rose and arced…crossing between him and Veronica’s trailer once more.
He saw the front lights go out and he remembered her dark living room. The room where they’d first touched…first kissed. He swallowed hard and turned back toward her trailer. He saw the kitchenette
