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“And if there’s nothing you can do?”
Sam shrugged. “My family is in central California. Dad and stepmom. Brother who’s twenty and in the police academy, and a stepbrother who’s eighteen months old. Dad’s a cop, too, but he’s getting up there. Been driving a desk for the last ten years. Mom’s an E.R. nurse. If this thing continues to spread, then I’m going to want to get to them and help keep them safe.”
“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” said Trout, and Dez nodded. Sam made no comment. The conversation dwindled down to a shared, moody silence.
Trout stared out the window as he sipped the last of his coffee, then he frowned. “Hey,” he said, “I thought we were going to North Carolina.”
“We are,” said Dez.
“Then why did we just pass a sign for Fort Necessity? You planning on visit a historic battlefield during a flight to safety? I don’t know, Dez, I doubt the gift shop is open this early.”
“We’re not going to the fort,” said Dez irritably. “We’re going to Sapphire Foods. It’s a mile past the fort on Route 40. I told you about it. The big food distribution warehouse.”
“Ah yes, the one where your ex-boyfriend works. If he’s still an ex-boyfriend.”
“Don’t start, Billy.”
“It’s a good call,” said Sam. “We got less than half the supplies out of the school.”
Trout knew that it was a good idea but he didn’t want to admit it. He fished for an objection. “What if they won’t let us take anything.”
“We’ll ask nicely,” Sam suggested.
“Charlie will give me what I want,” said Dez.
“Charlie? Charlie who? And why would he give you anything? Would that be a matter of him committing a crime?”
“We’re in a state of emergency.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And Charlie likes kids. He always has. He coaches the boxing and wrestling teams at the PAL in—”
“Whoa, wait, are you talking about that Charlie?”
Dez colored and said nothing.
“Are you freaking serious, Desdemona Fox? Him?”
“Who?” asked Sam, but he was ignored.
“He’s a scumbag, a thug, and very likely an actual criminal,” said Trout.
“He’s not that bad.”
“Your nose grew six inches when you said that.” Trout shook his head in genuine disbelief. “I know you’ve dated some lowlifes over the years, Dez, but how drunk were you when you thought dating Charlie Pink-eye was a good idea?”
“He doesn’t like to be called that.”
“I don’t care what he likes or doesn’t like. Charlie’s a psychopath. So’s his brother and so’s his dad. Didn’t his old man kill Charlie’s mother?”
“It was never proved. Might have been suicide. But what does that matter, Billy? We’re not going there so I can give him a blow job. We need supplies and I know that if I explain the situation, he’ll help us. And if we need to, he’ll let us stay there.”
Trout began to fire back a crushing reply, but the driver called out, “We’re coming up on it.”
The bus rounded a curve in the road and there it was. A tall double fence encircled a plot of land that had to be a mile per side. The heavy-gauge rolling gate was peeled back on its hinges, the pipe frame twisted into a useless curl. The vehicle that had hit it, a Staples delivery truck, was still wrapped inside the gate like a spider caught in a web. The driver’s door was open and splashed with black blood.
“No … no … no…” said Dez under her breath.
