Rise & Walk (Book 2): Pathogen by Gregory Solis Page A

the rumble of a large passing vehicle.  She moved as fast as her spindly legs would carry her to the family room.  Opening the door and peering outside, she caught a glimpse of the brake lights of a vehicle as it turned into a court, one block down the street.  She knew that Pushkin Court had no outlet.  Whoever they were they would have to pass her again if they left.  She took two hesitant steps out on her porch, weighing her fear of leaving against the pressing loneliness of the alternative.  She could try to catch the driver’s attention from her lawn, if the car came by again.  Perhaps there was somewhere safe in the court, with people there who could help.  What if she waited for a ride that never came, like she had for her church meal?  What a shame it would be to hide in her house now knowing that others were so close.  The uncertainties left her no choice but to set out in search of help.  She would catch them in the court or they would pass her as they left. The relatively short walk would be a long journey for her old body but the thought of giving in, of just laying down and dying alone, was too awful to allow.   Its now or never, old girl , she thought and left her house without bothering to lock her door.
     
    *****
     
    Jack Mason stood next to the open door of his truck surveying the evening as best as the available light and his fatigued eyes would allow. He cursed himself for not checking to make sure he had brought his flashlight from camp.  The only light he could create now would be to crack one of his chemical light sticks. Light sticks were great to make a small amount of heatless illumination to use up close or to mark a trail, but without being able to focus that light, such a thing would only make him stand out as a target to anyone else in the area.  Reaching inside the truck he searched the small area behind his seat. Underneath a compact car jack, he found an emergency road flare. It wouldn’t be subtle but a flare would emit plenty of light if he needed it.  Stuffing the flare into a cargo pocket on his fatigues, he directed his attention towards the street.  Mason had learned to make the best of his sight in the dark by looking in a general direction, not at anything specifically.  The martial-arts training manuals that he had studied as a teen explained that peripheral vision was far more sensitive to movement.  The trick was training the brain to decipher the wider scope of information.  Seeing without focusing was how he explained it to Tony.  The technique had benefited Mason on the football field.  His job as middle linebacker was to run the defensive line.  In high school he had an almost sixth sense to anticipate the other team’s move and stop their offense.  Having the ability to look at the other team’s formation as a whole with his peripheral vision, taking it all in at once and mentally analyzing their strategy made Mason a leader on defense.  It took more than just good eyes to succeed on the field; instincts too had their place.  Right now, struggling to see in his generally unfocused manner, Mason’s instincts told him that something was out there, something was approaching. He looked back to Veronica.
    “I think we’re okay, kill the engine.  I’m gonna go recon for a bit.” He said to her and closed the door slowly so that it only clicked quietly shut.
    Recon? Veronica wondered as she disengaged the ignition, short for Reconnoiter?  A French word for sneak about and get into trouble? She watched Jack’s crouched form recede silently into the night and vanish.  Feeling alone and left behind, Veronica wished she wasn’t injured.  She couldn’t tell if her side was easing up or getting stiffer, but it sure as hell hurt.  Feeling a touch of resentment, she mumbled to herself in a low macho voice.
    “Gonna go recon for a bit.”
     
    The evening was pitch.  The scattering light reflecting in the sky gave Mason’s eye some contrast to