Ben?”
“Better than being one of them,” he said and pointed at a dead doctor stumbling toward them from the medical tent.
Boone raised his sidearm and ended the thing’s misery with one shot. Then he looked at his crew, “Ush, Cole, cover him.” Both men raised their weapons. Boone ejected the magazine from his sidearm, flicking single rounds into his palm, leaving one shot in the weapon, and then passed it to the unfortunate man, who began to cry softly.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen. I never even asked her out,” he raised the weapon to his temple. “Take care of my dog, will you?”
Usher and Androwski tensed as the man lowered the pistol slightly. “Oh, one of the things I heard on the radio before you got here was to join the three . There’s a guy broadcasting that over and over again with instructions on how to get there, and that they offer safety, food, and shelter.”
Boone was stunned. “When was the last transmission?”
“A few hours ago. The group is supposed to be someplace south of I-80 in Nebraska. The guy said he was US military, and they have thousands of people there.” He raised the gun to his head again but didn’t pull the trigger. “I…I can’t,” he said and began to sob, lowering the weapon. He put the pistol on the road and looked back at the city.
“Best if you do it now, son,” Dallas told him.
“I never heard from my parents. They live just inside the city. I’m going to go look for them.”
“Fair enough,” Boone handed him another bottle of water. “Stay quiet. I might recommend telling your parents that you’ve been bitten too.”
“If I find them.”
“If you find them.”
Ben turned and started walking back toward Salt Lake City.
When he was out of earshot, Dallas asked Usher, “How long you think he’ll last?”
“An hour if he’s lucky.” He waved his hands at the bodies around him. “These are just the ones who made it out of town. There’s got to be thousands back there. I would have taken the bullet.”
“Alright, saddle up,” Boone shouted as he picked up his handgun. “There’s nothing here we need, and there’s a rest stop sixty miles east of here. We’ll get some fuel there.” He keyed his radio. “Stark, monitor all frequencies for chatter. There may be a large group of survivors broadcasting from someplace in Nebraska.”
“Do we make contact, sir?”
“Negative, Cole, no contact yet. Our mission is the priority, and we don’t know if they’re friendly.”
6
Most of the screen was light gray, but it was dotted with some occasional white moving shapes as well. Anna furrowed her brows. “Shouldn’t they give off no heat if they’re dead?” A beagle puppy was asleep in her lap.
“They must possess some residual warmth,” Chris said pointing at the screen. “I mean, I’m no scientist, but they are moving under their own power. They must be generating some type of heat.”
The thermal optics in the LAVs were registering movement six hundred meters away at the McDonalds restaurant on I-80 in southern Wyoming. They had seen nothing between Salt Lake City and here. Not a car, or a shambler, or a jackrabbit. Two other rest stops had been razed to the ground, and they had skirted all the towns along the way, preferring to stick to the scrub land and drive around. There was one can of diesel left between the two vehicles, and LAV One was on fumes.
Dallas moved his finger across the screen, tapping the white moving shapes. “There’s only eight of ‘em. Let’s kill em and get the gas.”
“Diesel,” corrected Boone, “and there are only eight that we can see. That place is huge, and there could be dozens that we don’t see.”
“There might be, but there’s only two big rigs, and seven cars, how many could there really be? If we wait until sunrise, they can see us.”
“Yes, and we can see them. We button up and wait for morning. Cole, you and Stark have first watch. Wake
“Better than being one of them,” he said and pointed at a dead doctor stumbling toward them from the medical tent.
Boone raised his sidearm and ended the thing’s misery with one shot. Then he looked at his crew, “Ush, Cole, cover him.” Both men raised their weapons. Boone ejected the magazine from his sidearm, flicking single rounds into his palm, leaving one shot in the weapon, and then passed it to the unfortunate man, who began to cry softly.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen. I never even asked her out,” he raised the weapon to his temple. “Take care of my dog, will you?”
Usher and Androwski tensed as the man lowered the pistol slightly. “Oh, one of the things I heard on the radio before you got here was to join the three . There’s a guy broadcasting that over and over again with instructions on how to get there, and that they offer safety, food, and shelter.”
Boone was stunned. “When was the last transmission?”
“A few hours ago. The group is supposed to be someplace south of I-80 in Nebraska. The guy said he was US military, and they have thousands of people there.” He raised the gun to his head again but didn’t pull the trigger. “I…I can’t,” he said and began to sob, lowering the weapon. He put the pistol on the road and looked back at the city.
“Best if you do it now, son,” Dallas told him.
“I never heard from my parents. They live just inside the city. I’m going to go look for them.”
“Fair enough,” Boone handed him another bottle of water. “Stay quiet. I might recommend telling your parents that you’ve been bitten too.”
“If I find them.”
“If you find them.”
Ben turned and started walking back toward Salt Lake City.
When he was out of earshot, Dallas asked Usher, “How long you think he’ll last?”
“An hour if he’s lucky.” He waved his hands at the bodies around him. “These are just the ones who made it out of town. There’s got to be thousands back there. I would have taken the bullet.”
“Alright, saddle up,” Boone shouted as he picked up his handgun. “There’s nothing here we need, and there’s a rest stop sixty miles east of here. We’ll get some fuel there.” He keyed his radio. “Stark, monitor all frequencies for chatter. There may be a large group of survivors broadcasting from someplace in Nebraska.”
“Do we make contact, sir?”
“Negative, Cole, no contact yet. Our mission is the priority, and we don’t know if they’re friendly.”
6
Most of the screen was light gray, but it was dotted with some occasional white moving shapes as well. Anna furrowed her brows. “Shouldn’t they give off no heat if they’re dead?” A beagle puppy was asleep in her lap.
“They must possess some residual warmth,” Chris said pointing at the screen. “I mean, I’m no scientist, but they are moving under their own power. They must be generating some type of heat.”
The thermal optics in the LAVs were registering movement six hundred meters away at the McDonalds restaurant on I-80 in southern Wyoming. They had seen nothing between Salt Lake City and here. Not a car, or a shambler, or a jackrabbit. Two other rest stops had been razed to the ground, and they had skirted all the towns along the way, preferring to stick to the scrub land and drive around. There was one can of diesel left between the two vehicles, and LAV One was on fumes.
Dallas moved his finger across the screen, tapping the white moving shapes. “There’s only eight of ‘em. Let’s kill em and get the gas.”
“Diesel,” corrected Boone, “and there are only eight that we can see. That place is huge, and there could be dozens that we don’t see.”
“There might be, but there’s only two big rigs, and seven cars, how many could there really be? If we wait until sunrise, they can see us.”
“Yes, and we can see them. We button up and wait for morning. Cole, you and Stark have first watch. Wake
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