Escape by T.W. Piperbrook Page A

think this may have been a misunderstanding. We just want to talk to him and sort this out. It’s not safe out here. We should all get indoors.”
    Charlie nodded in agreement.
    “Come with me,” he said. “You can pull around back.”
    “We were hoping to get right to the lumberyard.”
    “Oh. Well that’s fine, too. If you want I’ll come with you. I’m exhausted, and Hector was supposed to take over for me an hour ago.”
    Dan headed back to the vehicle with Sandy and Charlie in tow. When they reached it, they got inside. Charlie propped his rifle between his knees.
    “Thanks for the lift.”
    “No problem.”
    Dan switched the vehicle into drive and proceeded along the worn road. The tires bounced over rocks and sand, and he alternated his gaze between the rearview mirror and the road ahead, ensuring that their course was safe.
    “So you’re a police officer?” Charlie asked, his brow raising.
    “Yes. At least I was, before all of this happened. I was one of only four in town, but the others didn’t make it.”
    Dan studied the man beside him. If he was from St. Matthews, he didn’t recognize him.
    “Where you from, Charlie?”
    “I’m from Texas. I was out here on a road trip with two of my friends, and we got sidetracked when the shit hit the fan. Some men on I-40 started shooting at us. I was the only one that got away.”
    Charlie’s eyes grew wide, and he turned his attention out the window. Dan wondered how many times he’d told his story, whether it ever got any easier. He suspected it didn’t.
    “Sandy says there are ten of you at the lumberyard?”
    “Yea. Reginald, Sandy, myself, and seven others. There used to be more of us, but a few people decided to leave and never came back.”
    “Did you all know each other before this?”
    “No. Most of us met up in town, in the midst of all this shit. It was Reginald’s idea to come here. Ever since we arrived, we’ve been taking turns at the guard station and running into town for supplies.”
    Dan nodded. They were almost at the lumberyard; he could see the closed gates from here.
    “Will somebody be here to let us in?”
    “There should be. We’ve been taking turns keeping watch. We had a few close calls with the things almost getting over the fence, which is why we set up the extra perimeter at the guard shack. It gives us a little extra time to prepare.”
    “Got it.”
    Dan slowed the vehicle to a stop about ten feet from the entrance. Beyond the chain-link fence he saw several buildings: a main warehouse, a small red building that looked like an office, and a repository for lumber that was stored outside. The place looked deserted.
    “Are you sure anybody’s home?” Dan asked.
    He looked behind him, noticed that Sandy and Charlie were both looking toward the small red building on the other side of the fence. He followed their stare, but saw nothing of interest. The small structure had only one door facing the gate; it was closed.
    “Usually somebody’s inside. I think it was Tom’s turn to watch,” Charlie said. He frowned. “We don’t usually leave the entrance unmanned. I’ll go and rattle the gate to get their attention. Wait here.”
    Dan watched as the young man exited the vehicle, leaving his rifle in the car. He stalked over to the fence, scanning in all directions, and then clasped his fingers around it and started to shake.
    “Tom? You in there?”
    Charlie pressed his face against the metal, peering into the yard. After a minute, Dan saw movement from the red building: the door cracked and a face peeped out.
    Without warning, the door swung open and the person inside started to shoot. Sandy screamed out for them to stop, but she was too late.
    The bullets had found their mark, and Charlie pitched backward and collapsed in the dirt.

15
    T he town center was only a few minutes away. As she drove, Meredith kept a close watch on John, suddenly fearful that he would lose consciousness.
    If he passed out, how would