Tyler’s lips pursed and he looked off to the side.
“You know something?” Clutch asked after taking a drink from his own bottle. “If you didn’t feel the weight of making tough decisions, then I couldn’t ever respect you. I’ve got to admit, I didn’t like you at first. I wanted to kick your ass, to tell the truth, but you earned my respect. You’re the right leader for Camp Fox. You’re not afraid to lead but you’ve also held onto your compassion. That’s rare nowadays. You’re exactly what we need.”
Tyler’s brow rose and the tension seemed to bleed from his features. “You mean that?”
Clutch held up a hand. “Jesus. Don’t expect a hug or anything.”
Tyler chuckled, and it was the first time I’d seen his smile for some time. “You two had better get some rest. Who knows how long a trip we’ve got ahead of us.”
Reluctantly, I set up a sleeping bag next to Clutch, and we waited for Jase and Griz to show up. Vicki warmed up the camping area by lighting fires in small charcoal grills.
Near dawn, shouting snapped me awake. Blinding light from flashlights shone on us from every direction, and I shaded my eyes, searching to make out the source. Shots were fired, echoed by cries and more shouting.
“Faces down! Don’t move! If you move, we will shoot you!”
Before Clutch and I made startled, terrified eye contact, I saw one of our assailants dressed in full camo hunting gear.
Bandits.
Chapter XXIX
“Jesus. Except for their vehicles, these guys don’t have shit,” one of the bandits said to the man in charge while we all knelt on the freezing ground outside the store. Well, we all knelt except for the two Fox guards who had been on duty when the bandits arrived. No one had seen them since, and I suspected we would never see them again.
One of the bandits had moved the Humvee that blocked the entrance and was now rummaging through all of our vehicles. “Where’s your food?”
“We don’t have any,” someone said.
Every single one of the bandits had a mean look, like they were all pissed off at the world and thought they deserved special treatment now. The leader, missing three fingers on his left hand, had the cruelest look of all. One of his men had called him Hodge, and we all avoided meeting his gaze. He had a mean look, like he’d been this way even before the outbreak. His eyes—cunning like a fox—seemed devoid of any emotion as he looked over the Camp Fox survivors like we were nothing more than cattle.
Our backpacks sat, opened and empty of contents, in a pile behind him, along with our coats. All of our weapons had been confiscated and carried into the store. The bandits who had disarmed me had been overly thorough. I’d wanted to scream and bite as they’d groped, but I’d stood perfectly still with a clenched jaw, afraid of what they’d do to Clutch if I’d reacted. When one was busy checking under my bra with his cold hands, he commented, “Too bad. This one wouldn’t be too bad looking if her face wasn’t so messed up.”
The other one chuckled. “Easy fix. Just turn her around.”
Clutch managed to tackle that one before three others knocked him to the ground. He’d gotten a black eye and swollen cheek, but they moved on from me after that. I felt sorry for the other women, who received the same treatment.
When Mary was grabbed, her husband lunged forward and they kicked him in the stomach. As they dragged her back toward the store, she begged them to stop. Her husband, still holding his stomach, climbed to his feet and ran toward her. A bandit raised his rifle, and my eyes widened. Shots cut through the night air, and I jumped. He collapsed, and she screamed. The bandit holding her punched her and she went limp. Tension hung in the air as she disappeared inside.
“If any of you idiots try something stupid like that,” Hodge said, pointing to the body. “You’re going to end up the same way. Got it?”