“The one who rescued Horton. Word has it she kept them safe from a rogue hunger gang.”
“Them?”
“Lipton, too. He said he was out there looking for Horton, but I don’t think I would trust anything that man says.”
“A Scab girl did all that?” Dice asked.
“Yeah, that’s the story. But then again, there’s no way to verify any of it. All I know is they ended up here. At least Krista kept them locked up. That’s one thing at least.”
“A fucking Scab girl—” Fletcher said, his tone dry, almost as if those words were an afterthought.
“But wait, it gets better. We have a bunch of Scab women in holding as well. They’re a clan, apparently. And their leader is—” Zimmer said, stopping his words when he saw Fletcher raise the gun again, looking even more determined than before. “Easy now, buddy.”
“Where is this meet?” Fletcher asked.
“Krista didn’t tell me. All I know is they’re headed northwest. Two days’ drive is what she said. Maybe three.”
“They must have been stockpiling fuel, boss,” Dice said. “That’s why they weren’t upset when Frost shorted them at the last meet.”
“Actually, they took the gasifiers. The plan is to burn wood they find along the way.”
“Not the most efficient means of travel, but it makes sense,” Dice said.
“That’s the reason they took Doc,” Fletcher said. “To keep them running.”
Dice nodded. “Instead of our refinery. Fucking asshole.”
Zimmer gave them both a thin smile, figuring what he was about to say might ingratiate him to their cause. Or inflame the situation. Could go either way. But he had to try. “Why is not important, gentlemen. What is important is the means of travel. It provides you with a speed advantage, if you were to go after Lipton sooner rather than later. I’ll cover things here for you.”
Fletcher adjusted the aim of his pistol, pointing it at Zimmer’s chest, his thumb pulling the hammer back and into firing position.
“Hold on, Fletch. We’re all on the same side.”
“Not anymore,” Fletcher said, his finger pulling the trigger.
Zimmer felt the force of an impact hit his chest, sending him backwards and against the wall.
Then everything went black.
CHAPTER 29
Kyle Bishop carried an unconscious Liz Blackwell through the neon green corridor connecting the missile bay to the control complex, praying he could make it to the end before someone spotted them.
He knew making a run for it was beyond a huge gamble, but he had no choice with the carnage taking place across the complex.
This jaunt with a hundred-plus pounds of physician in his arms had to be done, even if he wouldn’t be able to react fast enough to draw his weapon if one of the insurgents appeared.
His hope was that the sound of distant gunshots meant the bandits were busy elsewhere, working their way down from one level to another.
Sweep and clear was a common tactic and given the limited access points, he figured they might have been a bit overconfident in their threat assessment, leaving only minimal guards behind in the segway access tunnels. Even so, it was likely they would station troops near the silo’s main entrance doors, protecting the single most important access point of their rear flank.
His heart wanted to get his attention and have his mind flash visuals of the blood and guts being spilled across the complex. Innocents were being gunned down. Men. Women. Children. People who needed his help.
But his logic swept those ideas away, keeping him focused on the task at hand. Saving someone. Someone important. Precious. One of a kind. Liz. The head doc. One of the leaders. His responsibility.
Anything else would be tactical suicide against what he knew was an overwhelming invasion. His comrades would have to help the others. The civilians. The innocents. He couldn’t.
Bishop took a few extra gulps of air as he passed what appeared to be the midpoint of the corridor—so far, no sign of anyone ahead. He repositioned the dead weight in his arms, then glanced back to check his six. Again, nothing.
He brought his eyes around to the front once again, feeling a stir from the doc. It was only her hips, but it meant she’d awaken soon from her nap.
If she snapped back to consciousness before he ferried her someplace quiet, she might scream for help, giving away their position. He needed to control her return to reality and do so out of harm’s way.
Bishop increased his pace, despite the burn in his legs, making it to the far end of the connecting tunnel in less than a minute.
He made a left and then a right, trekking another ten yards or so until he found a bulkhead, ducking into its shadows to catch his breath.
The entrance behind him led into the Launch Control Room, an area he’d been inside before. He ran the layout through his mind, remembering the previous visit.
There were a couple of decent places to hide and only one way in or out, meaning it would be a defensible position, even if it had no secondary egress option. Not the perfect choice. Possibly even a bad choice, but he had to try after pushing his luck this far. Luck always runs out, especially in combat, but that doesn’t mean you ever stop pushing ahead.
He turned sideways and slipped into the control room, zipping past the aging computer equipment on the right as he trekked farther into the darkened room.
The electronics were from the 60s and encased in a wall of metal cabinets—lime-green in color and sporting an endless sea of lights and switches, each of which had gone extinct.
Just beyond the end of the equipment was another wall of support equipment running ninety degrees perpendicular.
This bank included more electronics, plus a set of six-drawer file cabinets, an extra operator’s chair, a red-colored rotary dial wall phone, two cork bulletin boards covered with abandoned push pins, an all-metal speaker hanging vertically that he took to be a squawk box, and some other stuff he didn’t recognize.
He carried Liz a few steps farther, then swung around behind the cabinets and turned sideways to squeeze the two of them into a recessed crawlspace underneath an angled steel beam that seemed to go nowhere.
Bishop lowered Liz onto the concrete, taking extra care with her head as he nestled her onto her back and tucked in her legs.
Her body remained passive and her breathing continued its regular pace, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before her eyes would snap open and peer back at him.
Bishop pulled his handgun and checked it, making sure it was ready to fire. Even though he couldn’t see the entrance from his position, they couldn’t see him either.
That provided a small chance of success, depending on how this incursion played out. This hiding spot was tucked away and out of sight, not something they might know about or come back to search.
Sometimes superior numbers and firepower lead to overconfidence, and that brings about the wrong assumptions. Its’s how sectors become unguarded or unchecked after the initial sweep, leading to a body count nobody expects.
It’s also why double-backs happen, as well as flanking maneuvers by the opposition.
All of it designed to probe for weakness or mistakes.
The cement floor and the limited approach vector would have to serve as his eyes and ears. At least he would have some advance notice if things went sideways, mostly in the form of boots hitting the deck or the appearance of a shadow, thanks to the only light in the area—the corridor outside.