Horton’s heart sank as he watched Frost and his men turn to walk away. Then Frost stopped his feet and turned back to face him.
Wait, check that. Frost’s attention was on Sergeant Barkley.
“Okay boy, get some!” the man said in a commanding voice.
The dog opened its mouth and sank its teeth into the side of Horton’s ankle, twisting its head from side to side, as if it was in a tug of war with a play toy.
Horton screamed, sending the knife from his lips, as a hunk of skin was torn from his body. The pain raced up his leg and landed in his throat, making his next breath a short, powerful one.
Frost whistled a sharp note. “Come on, boy. Let’s go!”
Sergeant Barkley let go of Horton’s leg, running off in a darting leap to catch up to its owner.
Horton looked down past his heaving chest to see blood everywhere, most of it pooling next to a chunk of skin lying in the dirt. He figured the scent of blood would attract the Scabs like sharks to fish chum in the water.
The fire that Frost had set would burn for a while, using the gas and oily rags for its longevity. The heat would give him a temporary reprieve from the nighttime freeze that would soon descend on the area. The flames would also bring the Scabs in like a homing beacon.
It was the perfect execution plan. If he weren’t the victim, he might have appreciated the elegance of it all, topped off by a dog bite and tissue tear to elevate the bait for the Scabs.
He peered off into the distance, his eyes struggling to detect movement. The Scabs must have seen it by now. His situation would soon turn ugly.
Scab ugly, with teeth shredding tissue.
CHAPTER 21
Alexander Morse adjusted Summer’s pack across his back before he took another step with the revamped walker. He could now travel with more speed thanks to the girl he’d known for years. It took a bit of jury rigging, but he was able to modify the replacement wheel with the help of his trusty angle grinder and a working caliper.
He smiled, thinking of the moment Summer had given him the wheel, acting like a proud parent who’d just brought a treat home for one of her little ones in the nest. Morse wasn’t sure why that analogy seemed to fit, but it did, even though he was four times her senior.
Summer wasn’t the most consistent personality he’d met in his life, but she was a pleasant young lady. Her heart was always in it to win it, as they used to say on his block before The Event, sinking her teeth into whatever came next. Unfortunately, she had a tendency to veer off track, her attention easily swayed.
The caster wheel wasn’t the first item Summer had brought back for him, but it was the most useful—other than perhaps the spare parts for the vintage shortwave radio transceiver he’d been working on in secret. Only a few more repairs and it should be working.
He wasn’t sure how Edison would react to his desire to open communications with it, but he planned to sell the idea with the help of the EOD calculations. The number 35 should force Edison to listen. Hopefully it would be enough. A long-range broadcast was critical, or else they’d have to resort to drastic action.
The door to the medical unit was only ten yards away, but Morse wished it was a thousand miles. He’d spent far too much time in there with Liz in recent months, a fact that only Doc Blackwell knew. He wasn’t a fan of secrets in general, but sometimes you had to make an exception.
News always flew around Nirvana at light speed, especially bad news, but not because the walls were thin. In fact, just the opposite. They were susceptible to one thing—gossip. You can’t test for it. You can’t plan for it. You can’t stop it. It’s part of human nature.
Morse didn’t blame any of his fellow members. They needed something to help pass the time. Regrettably, spreading rumors was easy, allowing them slip out of their mundane existence for a spell.
As bad as gossip was for morale, secrets were far worse. Gossip could be ignored, but secrets withered trust. More so in a community run by unelected officials.
He knew his secret had to come out—eventually. But not now. Not today. There were too many other items burning a hole in his to-do list. His bombshell could wait a while longer.
The door to the infirmary opened before Morse arrived, catching him off guard when it almost smashed into the legs of his walker.
Edison stuck his head out, then his body, making eye contact. “I figured you should be close.” He stepped sideways, keeping the door open with one hand.
Morse slipped through. “Thanks for the help.”
“Look at you!” Summer said from the examination table, her eyes wide. Liz was with her, tending to the gash on her forehead, trimming a stitch with scissors.
“Someone order a pizza?” Morse asked, winking at Summer when he arrived. He took the pack off and put it on the table next to Summer.
“Thank you! I thought for sure Krista was going to steal all my stuff,” Summer said, grabbing her pack and unzipping the main pouch. Her hand went inside and stayed there, just as Edison arrived from his doorman duty.
“My pleasure,” Morse said, shifting his weight to his strongest leg. “Figured it was time I return the favor and brought you something for a change.”
“I hope it’s pepperoni with extra cheese,” Summer said, taking a moment to peer at everyone in the room. Edison smiled, while Liz chuckled.
“So tell me, what did I miss?” Morse asked, wondering if Edison and Summer had cleared the air about her most recent Seeker Mission. There was much to talk about.
“Just a little needlework,” Liz answered, pushing the words through her lips as if they were an afterthought. She must have thought Morse’s question was meant for her.
“Looks like our girl will be fine,” Edison said, pointing to the bandage on Summer’s cheek. “For the second time today, apparently. Luckily, we have the best damn doctor on the planet.”
“Or the only one,” Liz added, sounding trite.
“Getting to be a habit,” Morse said, looking at Summer, wondering if she had finally come clean with Edison.
Summer shrugged but didn’t respond.
Morse assumed that meant she hadn’t explained her activities to the boss.
“Need to run a few tests,” Liz said, her eyes focused on the patient. “You might have a slight concussion.”
Summer pinched her lips and shook her head before responding. “I’m fine, Doc. I’ve smashed my head a lot worse than this.”
Liz applied a bandage to her forehead. “Still, I want to be sure.” She turned and walked to the wash sink, tossing a handful of blood-stained wipes into a metal container on the floor. She tore off her surgical gloves in a snap of latex and threw them in the bin as well.
“Do you two need a minute?” Morse asked Summer, then looked at Edison. He planned to take Liz to the hallway with him, if the answer was yes.
“Nah, we’re good,” Summer replied, giving Morse the slightest of head shakes.
“Professor?” Morse asked, wondering if he’d had his talk with the girl.
“It can wait, Alex,” Edison said. “Let’s get her back on her feet first.”
Morse bit his tongue, holding back his displeasure at both. The last thing the silo needed was more secrets, even if they were only temporary ones. Secrets had a tendency to multiply, like unattended weeds after a rainstorm, smothering Nirvana’s future with them.
Summer pulled her hand out of the pack and held up a wad of bubble wrap. “I found this for you, Professor. I hope you like it.”
Edison took the gift and unwrapped it. Inside was a piece of stained glass. He held it up to the light beaming down from overhead. “Where on Earth did you find this?”