DUSK 2
Sam’s fingernail chipped as he attempted to dig into the walls with his bare hands. First the priest was speaking to his dead son, now Helen was seeing Lenux while she was awake and their guests were getting nosey. They weren’t asking questions, but he noticed them revolving around Helen, Jack, and anyone with a high rank. Maybe they sensed the tension and wanted to make sure the situation did not put their lives at risk or maybe they were interested in Helen because she was not from the colony. Either way, if Sam imprisoned them in their rooms, they would know he was covering something and their friends would retaliate. Instead, he told Helen to work in the clinic and avoid the rooftop.
For now, keeping Helen away from the helicopter seemed like a good idea. That was the one piece of turf the visitors had. Their escort had remained on the neighboring rooftops, undisturbed and playing cards outside between trips to the floor below. The less eyes on Helen the better, especially if she was falling apart.
Both Catherine and Frank had told him that the visitors had questioned them about their experiences before and after the attack. There probably wasn’t anything nefarious about the conversation but it made Sam uneasy. What was worse was that they hadn’t questioned Sam.
“Today’s the big day, Sam,” Frank said.
He pictured truckloads of armored troopers storming out of their transports and assaulting the building. In the aftermath of the attack, he saw the animated corpses of his friends hanging from long dead electrical wires.
“It’ll be nice not to be cooped up in here,” he answered.
“You don’t seem too thrilled.”
“I’m starting to think Franklin was right. Maybe we should have high tailed it to somewhere remote.”
They said nothing the rest of the way to the stairwell. Most of the survivors had moved away from the third floor, but a few gave Sam and Frank passing glances. Two guards leaned on the doorway leading to the rooftop. They stood at attention when the pair of commanders approached.
“Continue slacking,” Sam told them.
When they reached the roof, Sam spotted Grant Sobczak in the cockpit of the helicopter. He spoke into a radio receiver, meaning their radio silence had been broken. Sam wondered if this meant the convoy was soon to arrive. After Sobczak placed the receiver back in its holder, he hopped out of the chopper and walked towards Sam.
“They’re less than an hour away,” he said. “We’ll be able to clean up the zombies out here so your people can take their time vacating.”
“What kind of pickup are we looking at?”
“We’ve converted several trucks into personnel carriers. They’ll be cramped, but no worse than your people are going through now. We can fit another passenger or two in each chopper, if you wish to travel in style.”
Sam wondered if they wanted to torture him for information or toss him from the chopper for kicks.
“No thanks. I think it’s better if I travel with my people,” Sam said. “What about the others?”
“They’re being picked up right now. Their convoy is going to head straight back to our town. You can see them when you get there.”
This meant their destination was probably north west of their current location.
“The return trip won’t take as much time as getting over here did. They know which roads are clear now.”
Sobczak moved past Sam and inside of the building. Frank had made his way to the far corner of the rooftop and was talking to the guards. All things considered, everything seemed to be in order.
“Hey Frank,” Sam shouted. “Looks like we have less than an hour. I’m going to spread the word.”
*
The clinic had been stifling. Sure Helen enjoyed Ted and Erica’s company, but she hadn’t felt welcome among them and Phil Harker’s presence made matters worse. If he’d really seen his dead son, then she’d really seen the man who’d raped her. With less people to deal with, the garage was a lot more comfortable.
“We should have thought about this days ago,” Jack said. “Maybe I could have gotten some sleep.”
She slipped her shoulders under his arm.
“Have you seen him again?” he asked.
“Not since this morning.”
“I think the boredom and confinement are finally getting to you.”
Seeing her eyes narrow, Jack gulped. Instead of saying anything else, he led Helen behind a truck, where they were hidden from the guards, where they sat.
“You look a lot better,” Helen said. “Your face doesn’t look as swollen.”
“My teeth stopped shaking yesterday.”
“I’m sorry that happened,” she said.
“If it didn’t, there would be two more assholes in the world.”
To keep Jack from saying more, Helen gave him a quick kiss on the lips and snuggled under his arm. She rested her head on his chest and a hand on his leg, while Jack ran a hand through her hair.
Ten minutes of pleasant silence passed before Sam’s voice echoed through the motor pool.
“Williams, Yager,” he said. “Our ride’s coming in less than an hour. I’m going to send a squad to back you guys up and your shift has been extended until we’re in their transports.”
After Sam left, the guards grumbled.
“Looks like we’re going to have to find a new spot,” Jack said.
“Should we go help Sam?”
“In a few minutes.”
*
The commander on the other line had told Grant Sobczak that their expedition team had a confrontation with four armed attackers. Two had been killed, but the others had escaped. An investigation was being held to find out if these were gorillas who had split from their own base or members of the colony who now hosted Grant and his men. Chambers and Sanchez were already paranoid about the colony, so he decided to tell them when they were in the air.
Since two of the attackers escaped, Grant was glad that he’d relieved his command of the expedition to personally oversee their first contact with the refugees. When news traveled back home, Lord Flint Olmstead would be displeased. Picturing Olmstead’s reaction, Grant shivered.
“Pickup comes in less than an hour,” he told his three troops. “We take off as soon as everyone has been loaded into the transports.”
Sanchez peered out of the corner, while Wassen tossed down five cards.
“I fold,” he said.
“I can’t wait to be out of this sty. The people here smell worse than the dead and I’m surprised the floor hasn’t broken under my feet,” Chambers said.
Wassen sniffed his armpit.
“We’re getting to be not much better.”
It had been two days since any of them had bathed and Grant’s hair felt sticky. His scalp itched and his mouth tasted like rot.
“Too bad we couldn’t have been on the other rooftops with the lucky bastards.”
“Can it. I don’t want your mouth to get us in trouble,” Grant said.
Grant was thirty-four years old, but times like these made him feel sixty. He’d wished the world had been what it was when he was twelve so he could have normal hopes, like eventual retirement in Tahiti. Instead of saving money for a week of baking under the sun and sex on the beach, Grant spent the past few days hoping he didn’t catch the blame for anything that went wrong or that their hosts weren’t the kind who would slit someone’s throat in his sleep.
Soon enough the tables would be turned and with any luck, Olmstead would approve of his work.