“I know you’re not pointing that gun at my wife,” says a deep, familiar voice from behind Naomi. Dean steps out into the sunlight with a gun in each hand. One pointed at the creep and the other at the man standing by the car. “Let her go. Now.”
Charlie walks out next, with his weapon moving between the two assholes. Like he can’t quite decide who to shoot first.
Creep couldn’t be any angrier. Two bright red spots stain his cheeks as his diabolical plan comes undone.
“You’re outnumbered,” says Dean in a calm voice. “Just in case you can’t count.”
“We’re leaving,” says the second man.
“What?” hisses Creep. “But Porter said—”
“Get in the car, Cody,” says the guy with the shotgun.
Creep does as told, backing up toward their vehicle, keeping me as a shield between him and danger. When he gets close enough to the car, he dives in the passenger side, shoving me to the ground in the process. The muscle car tears out of the parking lot a moment later and it’s over.
They’re gone, thank goodness. And I was neither shot nor run over, which seems like a damn miracle.
Dean fires a few shots at the retreating vehicle, shattering the rear window. But I don’t think he hit anyone. They don’t slow down or stop, at any rate.
My heart is pounding inside my chest. But still. “Wife?”
“We can talk about it later,” says Dean. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
“No.”
His hands brush over me, checking just the same.
“I’m okay. Really.”
His frown is the mightiest I’ve ever seen. “Let’s get the last load and get out of here.”
“They wanted to know where we were from.”
“He kept asking,” adds Naomi. “Was insistent about it. How many people we had and things like that. Of course we gave them nothing.”
Dean pauses. “We need to make sure we’re not followed.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
WEDNESDAY
Our route home takes us on just about every back road in the state. We stop regularly to check for any signs of a tail. I don’t breathe easy until we’re back with Sophie. There’s no firepit tonight and all of the curtains are drawn to hide the light. The vibe is officially off.
Everyone over eighteen gathers in our living room while the girls hang out in Sophie’s bedroom. They know we’re being extra careful now due to outsiders. It’s obvious, what with most everyone carrying a weapon. But there’s no need to scare the crap out of them by letting them hear this conversation.
“He wanted to take us south,” says Naomi.
“Dean heard about a group forming in that direction on the radio,” I add. “It could be them.”
He is, of course, standing over by the window so he can watch the street through a crack in the curtain again. The man loves to multitask. And he gives the forgotten bowl of food in my lap a meaningful look before speaking. “There’s not much I can add. But that Cody guy was pissed when he couldn’t take you two. He’s not going to give up easy. We have to assume they’re looking for us.”
Dinner is rice and black beans with corn, sweet potato, lime, and green chilis. It’s very good. I am just stressed out and distracted.
“None of us want to spend more time with dead bodies,” says Naomi. “But I guess in the future, we need to be more careful and check if we can actually tell if they died from the flu or not.”
Natalia sighs.
“Whoever shot them could have also been long gone.” Leon shrugs. “This wasn’t a failure on anyone’s part.”
