Isolation by Jones, Nathan (the first e reader .TXT) 📗

out in relief. It was Bruce, lugging her gear and hurrying down the street towards them.

She quickly explained what had happened, although he had a radio and likely had a good idea himself. Even so he listened patiently as he supported Mrs. Gerson on her other side.

“Here,” he said, handing Gen his gun and her binoculars and radio. “I'll make sure she gets to the doctor, and keep an eye on Winn and Billy. You should get back to the wall . . . probably to the northeast . . . there were actually two trucks in that attack, and Darrel thinks that's where Jay's going to attack, if anywhere.”

Sure enough, his radio was full of chatter as the leader of their defenses called everyone who was off duty to gather, frantically passing out assignments on where they should go. He seemed panicked, unfocused, and she heard him give a few leaders of the same patrol groups multiple assignments.

Gen wanted to protest that Bruce would be more useful on the barricades than her, but in truth she wanted him to be there guarding Billy in case Jay somehow managed to get past the barricades. Besides, she was the one on duty at the moment; he'd just come off back-to-back shifts and had to be exhausted.

So she nodded and bolted off towards the northeast area of town, huffing and puffing before she'd gone more than a few blocks. She was in way better shape than she'd been in before the Zolos pandemic started, or to be honest since her teens, but even so she was carrying a heavy gun and ammo and other gear. And she'd already done a lot of running in the last ten minutes.

Finally, though, she reached the street running along the eastern barricade, coming into view of a small crowd forming up ahead.

The smoke had cleared enough for her to get a good view of the destruction the trucks had caused firsthand, and it shocked her. Entire sections of the barricades had been blown apart, blackened and smoking holes, still smoldering in a few places, with debris scattered for a hundred feet in every direction.

Gen stared at the devastation in dismay. The barricades had always felt a little makeshift, made of sturdy furniture, abandoned vehicles, bits of sheet metal and plywood and other building supplies, along with sandbags and earth berms in some places. Stanberry's volunteers had been reinforcing them this entire time, strengthening them and improving the walkways and sentry points, and she'd honestly thought that a bunch of nutjobs with guns would have no way of getting through to threaten her and her loved ones.

She hadn't expected them to get their hands on bombs.

Out in the street, a safe distance from the damage, a few doctors, nurses, and orderlies had set up an impromptu triage center, where twenty or so people were being treated. Most of the injuries seemed minor, bumps and scrapes and maybe concussions or ear damage, but there were also a few people who seemed in critical condition, motionless and bloody with medical personnel working frantically around them.

Answering Darrel's call, dozens of armed men and women were gathering on the barricades to either side of the holes, ready to fend off any further attacks. With a start Gen hurried to join them, climbing up onto the walkway and lifting her binoculars to search the surrounding area.

“Can you believe this?” the man next to her muttered, barely audible over the ringing in her ears.

It took her a few dazed seconds for her to realize he was talking to her, and she shook her head. “Where did he get the bombs?”

He shrugged. “Statton says he saw what looked like a homemade fertilizer bomb in the bed of the south truck.”

Gen hadn't heard Nick on the radio since Bruce had brought it to her, but she was relieved to hear he was okay and seemed to be on top of things, as usual. The idea that he was out there keeping her safe eased a knot between her shoulder blades she hadn't realized was there.

“How do a bunch of normal people from a small town know how to make stuff like that, anyway?” she asked.

The volunteer fighter snorted. “If anyone would, it's that wacko Jay.”

True enough.

Behind them she heard Darby shouting over a megaphone, urging onlookers who'd gathered to back off, both for their own safety and to give the doctors and Darrel's fighters room to do what they needed to do. Since the area outside the walls seemed empty of threats, and anyway there were plenty of people with binoculars or scopes keeping an eye out, Gen turned to look down at the street.

The crowd that had been there when she'd first arrived had grown by almost a hundred people, most milling around in distress and anger, demanding news and reassurances that they were still safe in spite of the attack. The Mayor stood in front of them, patting the air with one hand while he did his best to calm them down with his bullhorn.

He looked relieved when Darrel appeared to back him up, a handful of his fighters at his back. Although that relief was short-lived as the crowd's ire turned on the leader of their defenses.

“About time you showed up!” a barrel-chested older man at the front of the crowd shouted. “What, were you off strutting around lording it over us when you should've been defending us?”

Darrel flushed and snatched the megaphone from his cousin. “Hey come on, Lenny. I average four hours of sleep a night because I'm working nonstop protecting this town.”

“Really?” Lenny demanded, stepping out of the crowd to confront the other man nose-to-nose. “Because for someone who works so hard, you sure disappeared the moment the trucks with freaking bombs showed up and we actually needed you. I can't be the only one who was waiting for you to chime in and actually tell us what we should be doing during this disaster.”

Darrel flushed. “Screw you! I