“What’s wrong with spending the night in the hotel?” Lola asked. The question startled me; it had been so long since Lola had spoken I had almost forgotten she was there.
“Well, I shot one of the folks from the RV camp earlier today,” Mike said. “Not bad, mind you. Just a graze. But I doubt he’s gonna be happy with me about it. And Caleb here damn near beat the wheels off their leader.”
Lola swiveled her head to look at me, a new brand of regard in her eyes. I imagine her expression would have been much the same if she had been standing in the desert and suddenly realized the lumpy brown thing next to her feet was a rattlesnake. “Is that true?” she asked.
“I’m not proud of it, but yes. He didn’t leave me much choice.”
“How bad did you hurt him?” Dad asked.
“Bumps and bruises.”
He looked skeptical. “You sure?”
“I saw him after the fact. He had a big shiner on his temple, but otherwise, he was fine.”
Blake laughed next to me. “Man, I feel sorry for that guy. I’ve sparred with you enough to know what you can do when you play for keeps.”
Next to me, I could feel Sophia’s stare, and see the smirk on my father’s face, and hear Mike’s approving grunt, and I reddened, uncomfortable with the attention. “Anyway, Mike has a point. The two of us probably aren’t their favorite people right now. And the rest of you will be guilty by association. It’s probably best if we find our own place for the night.”
“I agree,” Dad said. “We’ll head down the street to the brewery. The roof of the main building looks good and flat. We’ll sleep there tonight.”
“How will we get up there?” I asked.
“We’ll figure something out. Let’s go.”
THIRTY-TWO
Blanco, Texas
Morgan waved us over as we drove by.
He was in the hotel parking lot on the roof of his Humvee, directing operations. I got on the radio and said I would handle it, and drove in his direction. The others proceeded ahead to the brewery.
“I need you to stay here,” I told Sophia after stopping next to Morgan’s vehicle. “This shouldn’t take long.”
“All right,” she said. Her eyes were fixed on the massive Abrams tank squatting in the middle of the road, swiveling its turret back the way we had come. The Bradleys and Howitzers drove past us, dispersing toward the bridges on the south side of town, most likely with orders to blow them if they saw too many infected coming.
Morgan jumped down when I got out of the truck and walked over to me. “Where are you folks headed?”
“To the brewery,” I said, standing close so only he could hear me. “I’m thinking Travis and Jerry probably aren’t too happy with me right now. Probably best if we make our own accommodations for the night.”
Morgan thought about it and nodded. “You’re probably right. Infighting is the last thing we need right now. You gonna be okay on your own?”
“We’ll be fine. We still have our radios. We’ll call if we run into anything we can’t handle.”
“Sounds good. See you in the morning.” He walked back toward his men.
I climbed in the truck and drove away.
“Any trouble?” Sophia asked on the way to the brewery.
“Nope. Morgan seems like a stand up guy.”
Sophia tilted her head to look in the side view mirror, the image of the hotel growing smaller in the square of glass. “So far, anyway.”
I turned right from Highway 281 onto the narrow, dusty street leading to the brewery. Looking around, it occurred to me Blanco had not been hit by the fires like areas farther south. When I thought about it, I remembered the prevailing winds the night of the fire had mostly been from the north, so between that and the lake protecting the town to the south, Blanco had escaped mostly unscathed. Which probably had a lot to do with why Captain Morgan wanted to stay the night here.
Up ahead, I saw the two Humvees and the other vehicles stopped. They sat across a dirt parking lot from a loading dock, a small copse of trees occupying the middle of the space. A few rusty shipping containers stood to their right, and to the left, I could see the main building and the larger brewing facility beyond.
Dad, Blake, and Mike stood in a huddle while Tyrel rested his hands on the stock of an M-240, barrel trained toward the loading dock. I had a moment to wonder what was holding them up, but then I drove closer to Mike’s Humvee and the mystery was solved.
Infected.
“Shit,” I muttered.
Sophia reached in the back and grabbed her rifle. “Dad said I need target practice. Guess this is as good a time as any.” Before I could say anything, she was out the door and headed toward the parking lot. I grabbed my own weapon and scrambled after her.
“Sophia! Hold up.” I caught her in six running strides. She had already reached Mike, who stood in her path, hand upraised.
“Whoa there,” the big Marine said. “Where do you think you’re going, little girl?”
She gave him a withering glare. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”
“Sorry. Where do you think you’re going, young lady?”
“I was thinking about going over there and shooting those infected.”
Mike’s face closed down. “Like hell you are. Get back in the truck. Let us take care of these things.”
“I’m not a little girl anymore, Dad,” Sophia said. “You don’t get to order me around.”
She went to brush by him, but Mike’s hand shot out and seized her arm. “Sophia, stop it.”
Her eyes tracked coldly from the hand to her father’s face. “Let. Go.”
“Sophia …”
“Let. Go. Now. Or I swear to God, I will leave this place and you will never see me again.”
She sounded like she meant it. I stood and stared, shocked at her sudden anger, wondering what the hell had gotten into her. Mike looked pained, mouth half-open, unsure what to say. In a flash of inspiration, I stepped up and put a hand on both of them.
“Okay, hold up a minute,” I said. “I have an idea.”
They both looked at me, Mike with desperate hope, Sophia blankly. “Listen, Mike. These things are everywhere. She’s going to have to learn to deal with them sooner or later. There aren’t that many of them. This is a good opportunity to let her get some real world experience in a controlled environment.”
I could see the gears turning behind Mike’s eyes. His hand loosened on her arm and fell away. Pressing my advantage, I said, “She can stay close to the two of us. Me on one side, you on the other. We’ll watch her flanks while she takes out the infected ahead of us. The three of us can work one side of the parking lot, Dad and Blake can set up a crossfire on the other. If things get too heavy, we’ll all fall back and let Tyrel light ‘em up with the heavy machine gun. Sound good to you?”
Mike looked to the others, who gave short nods, then back to me. “Sounds like a plan.”
I turned to Lance. “You mind staying here in the middle? Hang back and take out the ones that slip by?”
He checked the safety on his carbine, then slid back the charging handle to make sure there was a round in the chamber. “I can do that.”
“All right then,” I smiled at Sophia. She smiled back. “Let’s do this.”
The infected were spread out across the parking lot, perhaps a hundred of them, more emerging from a stand of trees to the left of the main building. It was roughly the same number Lance and I had faced the day we found Bob and Maureen killed in their home. If the two of us could handle that many on our own, I felt confident of our chances with Dad, Blake, Mike, and Tyrel helping out. Not to mention Sophia.
Mike led the way, walking toward the shipping containers. Looking at them, a thought occurred to me. “Hey Mike.”
“Yeah.”
I pointed at the closest container. “Ever heard the saying about working smarter, not harder?”