“Not more than a minute.”
Trent shrugged. They could ignore him all they wanted. His time would come. He faked a yawn. “I feel tired already. Oh, wait. That’s just boredom.”
The corpsman shoved the syringe into the vein then unsnapped the band.
Cold heat blazed up Trent’s arm. He sucked in a breath. Fuck that hurt. The bastards just stared at him, waiting for a reaction, no doubt. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
The corpsmen jerked the needle free and taped a cotton ball to the puncture.
The bitch crouched down next to him. “There’s one thing we forgot to mention. Along with the drugs, we injected a GPS capsule. It’ll settle in your heart and if you ever set foot in Colorado, we’ll use it to hunt you down like a rabid dog and blow your brains out.”
They’d tagged him like a dog? His tongue swelled in his mouth. Fatigue slammed his lids closed. Trent felt himself falling over. Then he felt nothing.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Trent opened his eyes. Bright sunlight flared across the back of his skull. He blinked several times until his vision adjusted. Wobbly muscles pushed him to a sitting position. Wet fabric molded to his body and a saturated blanket rolled onto his lap. The world tilted on its axis. The shrubs and sand see-sawed back and forth. He set his hand on the tire tracks. Eventually, they had to lead him to a road.
And a road meant people.
Yet, the sun was near to setting and he hadn’t found anyone. He dragged his tongue across his teeth. And the drugs the bastards had given him hadn’t helped. He kept fucking passing out. But he wouldn’t let the military stop him. He was destined for greatness.
Then they would pay.
But first, he had to find the God damn road.
A noise scratched his ears. On his left, a crow pecked at the brown Meals-Ready-to-Eat pouch. It pulled up a shred of brown then threw back its head and swallowed it down.
“Get!” Trent croaked.
The crow flapped its black wings, dug its yellow talons into the MRE and shifted away.
Fucking bird. He hoped the damn thing exploded from eating that shit. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Gah. What did they give him? He opened his last water bottle sticking out of the snow and chugged it.
The ammonia hit the back of his throat at the same time as the scent of urine registered.
He sprayed out the water.
God damn it. They’d pissed in his water. He scooped up a handful of snow and scrubbed his tongue. Fuckers. He tossed the bottle across the desert. A cold wind slipped through the knit weave of his sweater.
If they thought he’d die of dehydration, they had another thing coming. He would bury them.
Some of them while they still lived.
He rolled onto all fours. Vomit soured his mouth and his gut collapsed to spew its contents. After the dry heaves passed, he wiped his mouth on his wet sleeve and pushed to his feet. He swayed for a minute and listened to the sound of retching.
Trent touched his hand to his lips.
What the fuck?
He glanced to the left. Four school buses were parked along the side of the road. People milled about. His pulse quickened. They obviously needed a leader.
And he needed followers.
He took a step in their direction. His leg buckled. Yelping, he crumpled into the snow and mud.
“Who’s there?” a weak voice called from behind a tree. A watery splat quickly followed.
Trent froze. God, what was the man doing over there?
“Who is it?” A blustery fart soon followed.
He covered his nose and mouth. Damn, those MREs just weren’t healthy. Of course, a man suffering from diarrhea didn’t pose much of a threat. And he did have people and transportation.
But he’d thought that once.
He’d be more cautious this time. No one would take advantage of his trusting nature again. “Hello?”
Tossing the blanket into the nearest bush, Trent mussed his hair and tore his sweater and clothes. Their pity would be his way in. He heard a zipper close then the tree branches moved.
A sandy-haired man stared at him. Sweat glistened on his pasty face. “Where did you come from?”
Trent flapped his arms, imitating some of the losers who the military had picked up. “I got separated from my group. I think they left me.”
He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. The man was falling for his line. Not that he doubted it. Now he just had to wait until the idiot said the magic words.
“You can join us.”
Bingo. Trent smiled. Step one complete. Two or three more would assure his victory. “Thanks, I really appreciate it.” He stepped forward and stuck out his hand. “Trent Powers.”
“Stuart Graham.” A long fart punctuated his name. The man cupped his ass.
Thank God, he didn’t reach for Trent’s hand. He ducked his head to hide his disgust.
Pain flickered over Stuart’s soft features. “Excuse me.” He ducked behind the tree.
What the hell was wrong with the man? And was it contagious? Trent didn’t want to be the leader of a bunch of sick people. “Are you okay back there?”
“It’s the anthrax. We ate tainted food and now…” A long burst drowned out the rest of his words.
Ah. Anthrax wasn’t contagious. Still… Trent counted the people around the buses. Forty or so that he could see. Not very many men his age. That worked. “How many are sick?”
“There’s only three of us left.”
Trent shifted so he stood upwind of the stench. Three people from forty still left him a good number to build his kingdom. Of course, if more became sick then he’d have to prioritize who could stay and who would just be dead. “How’d you get it?”
“Audra picked up some buns from Burgers in a Basket.”
Audra? Another fucking bitch in charge? Trent clenched his fists. The scabs on his knuckles broke open. That wouldn’t do. “That your wife?”
“Nah.” Stuart grunted. “She’s just someone who teamed up with my people to survive.”
Right. Trent wasn’t buying that load of shit. This Audra was probably like the bitch in charge of the military. “Women, huh.”
Fabric rustled then Stuart reappeared, wiping his hands on his pants. “Women what?”
Ahh, the first test. Trent stuck his hands in his pockets. “They need men to protect them, tell them what to do.”
Keep them in line.
Stuart cocked his head as if that bit of truth wasn’t self-evident. “Yeah, I guess so.”
He’d know so when Trent got through with him. And then he’d die. Trent would be the only male in his kingdom. There’d be no mistakes this time. “So where are you going?”
“To join the soldiers.” Stuart trudged through the snow.
Not if he could help it.
“Audra should join us there.”
“She’d not with you?” Trent’s blood warmed. God had given him another opportunity. It was perfect. He followed in the other man’s footsteps.
“We got separated a while back.” Stuart shrugged. “Then the storm happened.”
What a wuss. This Audra was obviously leading the fool around by the short hairs. He would change that. He would change everything. Leaping over a puddle of melted snow, he landed on the road. Faces turned to him. Most were old. A few held promise. Ah well, he wouldn’t be too choosy. He smiled back at them. Behold your future king.
“Who’s this then?” A hag draped with pearls and diamonds glared at him.
She’d have to go. He plastered a smile on his face. But he’d keep her jewelry. “Trent Powers and I’m sure glad to see you folks. I’ve been wandering around the desert all night.”
She ignored him and stomped to the truck.
Most of the others followed suit.