Aftershock Read Online Free Page B

They both waved.
    Lauren waved back and started walking toward them. Garrett
proceeded with caution, which she found strange, considering how gung ho he’d
been earlier. He’d shown more enthusiasm while investigating burning cars.
    As they neared the pickup, she saw a third man stretched out in
the back of the truck. His eyes were closed, and bruises darkened the sockets
underneath, but he was alive. His chest rose and fell with steady breaths.
    “How’s it going?” Garrett asked, his voice flat.
    She realized that he had good reason to be wary of these men.
There was an open case of beer between them. A half dozen empty cans littered
the space, and a large bag of chips rested against the wheel well.
    While they’d been working hard, doing search and rescue, this
pair of jokers had been getting drunk.
    “It’s perking up,” the cigarette smoker said, glancing at
Lauren. He was about forty, with bad teeth and pewter-colored hair. Tattoos
snaked along his forearms, and he had the weathered skin of a drug user.
    His friend was younger, in his mid-twenties, a big man with a
shaved head. He had a doughy face and small, dark eyes. He studied Lauren also,
moistening his fleshy lips. From the way they protruded, she figured he had an
overbite.
    Both men gave the impression that they were glad to see a
woman, not a paramedic. Although she’d met a few guys who’d sought to take her
down a peg, ignoring her uniform in favor of ogling her breasts, she hadn’t
expected it from trauma survivors.
    Then again, everyone reacted to stress in a different way. It
didn’t bring out the best in most people.
    “I’m Lauren,” she ventured, “and this is Garrett.”
    Garrett had positioned himself very close to her, like a
bodyguard. Or a boyfriend.
    The tattooed man took another drag on his smoke, looking back
and forth between them. “Jeb,” he said. “It’s a real pleasure.”
    “Mickey,” his companion added. His soft, high-pitched voice
made a sharp contrast to Jeb’s raspy southern drawl.
    Lauren found it strange that they addressed her, not Garrett.
They made no move to stand and shake hands.
    “Who’s this?” she asked, gesturing to the prostrate man. He was
young, like Mickey, with short blond hair and a thick goatee.
    “That’s Owen,” Jeb said. “He’ll be all right.”
    Lauren didn’t want to climb into the back of the pickup to
evaluate his condition. She’d learned to trust her instincts, and they warned
her not to get any closer. “I have other patients to attend to, but you’re
welcome to bring him in. We’ve got some medical equipment set up in front of a
motor home.”
    “We take care of our own,” Jeb said, squinting at Garrett.
    It sounded like a threat.
    “Doesn’t appear to be any way out of here,” Garrett
remarked.
    Jeb sucked on his cigarette. “Nope.”
    “Might be days, even weeks, before we escape.”
    “Is that so?”
    “We should ration our supplies.”
    Jeb reached into the cardboard case of beer, his dark eyes
glinting in the dim light. “You want one, pretty lady?”
    “No,” she said tightly.
    Cracking it open, he took a long pull. “Well, that’s a real
good idea, hero. But you’ll be prying this beer out of my cold, dead hand.”
    Mickey crushed an empty can in his fist, punctuating the
statement.
    “It’s every man for himself, the way I see it.”
    Lauren’s stomach tightened with tension. Jeb and Mickey were
spoiling for a fight, and Garrett might be angry enough to oblige. These men
were playing with their lives by drinking an entire case of beer. They were
wasting limited resources.
    “Okay,” he said, grasping Lauren’s elbow. “Let’s go.”
    She allowed him to lead her away, but she didn’t like it. When
they were at a safe distance, she tugged her arm from his grip.
    Cursing, he apologized. “I should have stood my ground.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous.”
    “They deserved a beating.”
    “Yes, but why make enemies? We have other things to