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“They ambushed us, dumbass,” said Dez. “Now shut up, Cletus, there are grown folks talking.”
Even in the cold rain the man’s face flushed red.
Sam said, “Mind telling me why you tried to ambush my soldiers? It was my understanding that General Zetter negotiated a truce with you.”
“Fuck Zetter and fuck you.”
“There’s that,” conceded Sam.
“We thought he left two assholes behind to keep us penned in. Turns out we don’t think it’s safe in Stebbins County. Might come as a shock to you.”
Sam said nothing.
“So we were going to tie up Zetter’s sentries, take their weapons, then clear out as many buses as it’ll take to get these kids and the rest of the adults the fuck out of this particular ring of hell.”
“And go where?”
“Anywhere but here.”
“That was the general plan,” agreed Trout, “until you showed up. And I have to say, Captain, that you played a very dangerous hand of cards there. We could have just as easily shot your people.”
“That goes both ways, Mr. Trout, and in any armed conflict I rather like our odds.”
Dez tried to get up in his face. “You can suck my—”
Trout pushed her back.
“Much as I appreciate you not turning this into the O.K. Corral, Captain,” said Trout, “how about the added courtesy of a few answers. Like why’d everybody light out of here like their asses were on fire? What was that about?”
“Well, you’ve probably already guessed that this trouble isn’t over,” said Sam. “The infection, the outbreak. It’s not over. And that’s why we need your help and cooperation. That’s why I need you to give me the flash drives.”
Trout shifted, wincing at the pain in his body. “How bad is it?”
Sam Imura had the kind of face that rarely gave anything away, but Dez and Trout could both see dangerous lights flicker in the man’s eyes. Beneath the placid veneer of calm there was real fear there. Deep and intense, barely kept in check.
“It’s bad,” said Sam. “We may not be able to contain it. Mr. Trout … please … those drives may be our only hope of preventing a nationwide catastrophe.”
Trout sighed deeply and closed his eyes.
“What?” asked Sam.
“I don’t have the drives,” said Billy Trout.
Sam’s face went dead pale.
Moonshiner said, “Oh, shit.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE
SUBURBS OF PITTSBURGH
“Homer,” said Goat, after he started the camera again
and adjusted the microphone, “why did you attack those people at the Seven-Eleven?”
“I thought you said you understood.”
“I do,” Goat said quickly, “but this will go out to millions of people who don’t yet understand. You want them to understand, right? That’s why we’re doing this.”
