“The one we saved from the Hunger Gang.”
“Summer?” Dice asked, not waiting for a response. “What made you think of her?”
“Not sure. Just flashed in my head for some reason.”
“You must have taken a pretty good shot to the melon back there. I know getting blown against that wall didn’t do my back any good.”
“Better than being out here like these poor fuckers,” Fletcher said, stepping over two bodies and around what was left of a third.
“God, no wonder it stinks,” Dice said.
“Reminds me of this old strip club in Payson, Arizona. They had this giant cow on top of their sign. Was a former steak house, I think. Run by a real peach of man, too, always telling people he was sixty-six years old. Like that mattered at all.”
“Sorry, I don’t follow.”
“Their bathrooms were outhouses. Actual outhouses.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep, had to walk through the mud to take a piss after shotgunning beers.”
“I’m guessing it was a real dive.”
“Yeah, and those shitters were biblical.”
“What about the women?”
“Same,” Fletcher answered, laughing before a sudden wave of dizziness took over. He dropped to a knee, leaning against the wall in the hallway.
“You okay, Fletch?”
“Damn, feels like a herd of angry buffalos dancing around in my head.”
Dice hovered in close, putting a hand on Fletcher’s shoulder. “Maybe you need to take a break, sir. I’ll take point.”
Fletcher shook off his friend’s touch and stood, blinking to clear the blobs in his vision. “Nah, I’ll be fine. Let’s keep moving.”
A few minutes later, they had made it past a string of Scab bodies and around another corner. Maybe it was two corners, Fletcher wasn’t sure. His mind wasn’t focusing any better than his eyes, but at least they were forging ahead. “Should be up here somewhere.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me if we find him still grabbing his chest.”
“There he is,” Fletcher said, pointing. “At least, I think so.”
“Damn, that answers that question,” Dice said, increasing his foot speed.
When they arrived they found a scorched rifle lying on top of a pair of combat boots, with most of their soles melted off. They were sitting next to a knot of camo-colored clothing, though some of the edges were burnt black.
Dice brought his rifle down and used the muzzle to peel apart the clothes. There was a mound of something gooey lying under it—about the size of a baseball hat. “Is that him?”
“Doubt it. Needed a much hotter fireball to incinerate a man like this. Plus, where’re his teeth? There should be more of him left.”
“Then what is it?”
Fletcher thought for a few beats, letting an idea work itself free in his mind. He shrugged. “It’s possible a Scab survived.”
Dice brought his rifle up into a firing position and aimed it down the corridor. “And ate him?”
“If he was already dead from a heart attack—”
“Then it was a free meal.”
“A free, cooked meal.”
Dice relaxed his rifle and raised a hand before extending his index finger, pretending to speak to someone a few feet away. “Excuse me waiter? I’ll have mine extra crispy, please.”
“Man, you are one sick dude.”
“That’s because I’ve been hanging around you too much,” Dice said, wearing a huge grin. Then his mug turned serious once again as he pointed at the blob on the floor. “Still doesn’t explain what that is.”
“I’m thinking Scab puke.”
“Now that’s just wrong on so many levels.”
“Seen worse back in Afghanistan.”
“I’ll bet. Glad I missed it.”
Fletcher waved him forward. “Let’s move. We need to get up top and check in with the men.”
“I don’t know about you, but I’m looking forward to some fresh air. I think I’ve had enough of this gopher shit.”
“Once I’ve briefed everyone, I’m going to want this place searched from top to bottom. If someone’s here, I want them found.”
CHAPTER 10
Krista stood to the side as Liz Blackwell sat down on the bench seat in the locker room next to a now fully-dressed, masked prisoner, whose head hung low.
Wicks hovered nearby, standing guard like the warrior he was.
Summer was in attendance, too, her eyes focused on what should be an important interrogation of the man known as Nomad.
Summer may not have thought of this meet–and-greet as an interrogation, but that’s exactly what it was.
Even though Liz had taken the lead, Krista had her share of questions, each of which she planned to fire at the scarred man the moment Liz was done.
Timing is everything, even in the Frozen World. More so when you’re attempting to break down a captive and establish control. A captive who carried the legendary status of this man. He was part vigilante and part hoodlum, depending on which rumor she chose to believe.
Krista knew of a few in Nirvana who claimed to have been on the receiving end of one of his rescues, so the term savior might fit the man as well. It depended on perspective, letting emotions and expectations fuel one’s vantage point.
For Krista, right now, this prisoner was only that—a prisoner. Nothing more. A detainee who had brought a group of Scabs into their secure facility and did so unannounced.
Somehow he’d found their secret hideout. Whether he’d been tracking someone, possibly Summer, or he’d discovered their location on his own, she needed to figure out how he’d done it. And why, of course.
If Edison had still been alive, she wondered how this day might have gone—different or the same? She wasn’t sure. Too many variables and unexpected twists.
Regardless, Krista’s job was the same—get to the bottom of everything that was happening and do so without elevating the risk any more than it already was. And keep Summer and Liz in check. Oh, and Wicks.
“When did that girl first develop her symptoms?” Liz asked Nomad.
He kept his eyes low and shook his head, not responding.
“It wasn’t a yes or no question,” Krista said.
Again he held his silence, his eyes trained on the floor around his feet.
Wicks took a step forward with his open palm extended, but Krista waved him back. She knew what he wanted to do, but his brand of intimidation would only set Liz off. And Summer.
Krista made eye contact with the brute, flashing a look that told him to stand down. He returned to his post after a crisp step back, keeping his weapon at the ready.
“Listen up, Nomad,” Krista said, needing to control the air a bit more. “Unless you want more of the same, I’d suggest you answer Liz’s questions. Fully and truthfully. She’s just trying to help. It’s in your best interest to cooperate.”
Nomad turned his head toward Krista and held her gaze, peering through the cutouts in the balaclava. Once again, he held his tongue as if his life depended on it.
“Come on, please, talk to us,” Summer said. “Liz can help your friend, but she needs more information.”