DEAD IN BED By Bailey Simms: The Complete Second Book

PART 9, SECTION 3

After listening to what the driver had done to those women, I gave Jimbo a glare of my own.

"Okay, I get it," I said. "But still, Chris. Not cool. Don't overdo it."

"Well, he needs to learn his lesson. What is cool, though, is that we now have thirty-seven live cattle to take back to the dwellings. Do you know how long that will feed us for? A long time. I even hooked up with Ed's guy and loaded up with a few thousand pounds of potatoes and beans. I even got a case of vodka!" Chris smiled at me. "Who kicked ass today?"

I rolled my eyes. But I couldn't help being relieved and impressed with what Chris had achieved. I'd found Ed, not to mention my parents, but really all I'd done that day was to stand back and watch the Home Guard brutally murder innocent people while somebody else freed the remaining prisoners. Chris had come through while I'd mostly sat around.

I loaded Kaypay from the stables into the trailer among a crowded herd of wide-eyed cattle. We'd have to figure out who would butcher the first of them, but I thought a couple of the new guys would probably know how to do it. It certainly wasn't going to be me. After the horrors I'd witnessed unfold at the football field that day, I was ready to go veg for a while.

In order to get a huge semi-truck trailer filled with fifty thousand pounds of cattle to the trail head, we had no choice but to drive straight through town. 

We ducked down in the cab while Chris directed the driver. He kept the needle stuck in the guy's thigh and his thumb poised at the plunger the whole time. A few rangers patrolled the major intersections, but none of them were remotely suspicious of us as we rumbled down main street.

It was dusk when we reached Ed's place. I'd hoped that he might have made it home after being freed from the locker room, but his house was as quiet and empty as before. If he'd gone somewhere else, that probably meant he knew it wasn't safe for him here. Keeping that in mind, we moved as quickly as we could to unload the cattle from the trailer and secure the sacks of vegetables onto their backs.

Chris had duct-taped the driver's hands to the side-view mirror while we worked. Now, while Chris kept the needle firmly planted into the guy's leg, I cut him free.

"Well, Jimbo," Chris said. "It's been real."

With that, he injected the syringe's full contents into the driver's leg.

"Chris!" I yelled. "What the hell? What are you doing?"

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