Resident Evil_ Extinction - Keith R. A. DeCandido [83]
“You okay?”
“Yeah, just—” Morgan sighed. “I was thinking about becoming an EMT when, y’know, everything went to shit. Never thought I’d drive one’a these. This wasn’t how I wanted it.”
“We got far away from ‘wanted’ a long time ago, Morgan,” Claire said while she put an encouraging hand on his shoulder through the open window. “Listen, how’re we on antibiotics?”
“Not bad, actually, especially now that—” Morgan winced.
“Now that what?”
Morgan let out a long breath. “Now that we’re down to twenty.”
“Yeah.” She squeezed his shoulder, then went on to the 8x8, where Alice got in next to Carlos, and Kmart got in behind Alice, staring at her as if she was some kind of goddess. Claire sighed. She supposed that it was inevitable, especially the way the stories about Alice had gotten out of hand even before she showed up and used her magic tricks to save Carlos’s life.
On the one hand, Claire wished she would’ve shown up sooner, maybe saved a few more people who didn’t make it. On the other hand, they were lucky she showed up at all.
Claire got into the Hummer. Two of the other teenagers, a girl named Tracy and a boy named Brian, sat in the backseat. “Kmart said you’d need the company,” Tracy said.
Chuckling, Claire fastened her seat belt and started the ignition. “Thanks, guys.”
“Thank her,” Brian said sourly. “We wanted to be in the news truck. That’s where the cool gadgets are!”
Tracy hit her brother in the arm. “Shut up.”
Shaking her head, Claire picked up the PRC. “Everyone good to go?”
In turn, Mikey, Carlos, Morgan, and Chase all answered in the affirmative.
“Let’s move.”
Sitting in the passenger seat of the Enco tanker, L.J. tried not to think about how much like shit he felt.
Chase was driving. “You okay?” L.J. shrugged it off as best he could. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Pork and beans, man—lethal. Don’t know how you cowboys do it.”
Chase laughed.
It was gonna be over soon. L.J. knew it. He should’ve just walked away. It was how he do, get the fuck out before the heat hit. That was his philosophy, and it kept him going when a lot of other motherfuckers were doin’ time.
But shit changed when he came out here. People was counting on his black ass. And wasn’t that a kick in the motherfuckin’ teeth? People depending on L.J. Wayne, like he was some kind of savior.
It was a weird feeling. But it was kinda cool, too.
Which made it all harder. L.J. knew he should’ve just walked out into the desert, let this fucking T-virus take his ass, and then he’d be a zombie-ass motherfucker, just like Rashonda and Dwayne and those kids back in Raccoon.
But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t just leave. He had to hold on so he could help some more. He had to be here for these people.
“You sure you’re okay?”
The last thing L.J. wanted was pity. He put on a whinier version of Chase’s drawl. “‘You sure you’re okay?’ Not going all Brokeback on me, are you?”
“Hey, take it easy, just worried. You’re my wingman. Hell, you’re this convoy’s wingman. Just makin’ sure you’re all right.”
“I’m fine,” L.J. said. “Just—”
“Betty, right?”
L.J. blinked. “Uh, yeah.” He hadn’t even thought of using his grief over Betty—who didn’t deserve what she got, not that any of them did—to cover up. Shit, he was sick. “Yeah, that’s prob’ly it. Don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Okay.”
Chase actually shut the fuck up after that.
L.J. stared out the window of the tanker.
Alice sat in the passenger seat of the 8x8. It wasn’t until they were on the road that she realized that there was a gaping hole in the floor of the army truck. The pavement went zooming by under her feet.
Looking over at Carlos, she smiled. “Nice ride.”
Within minutes, they were on U.S. Route 93, headed south. A sign read LAS VEGAS 155 MILES.
Kmart leaned forward so she was between the two front seats. “What’s Vegas like?”
Alice shrugged. “Used to be a fun town.”
“Now?”
Turning, Alice gave Kmart as serious an expression as she could provide.