ZACH DROVE TO THE top as near as he could to the wounded. He hopped out and swung the back door open wide. "We need to get them to Provo." Zach refused to say The City. "It's about 30 minutes. I bet they have medical care. Can you get Charley to come?" Nev headed down the hill as Zach walked over to Blackhawk.
The big Native nodded in acknowledgement.
"Blackhawk? Can you get the snowmobiles on the trailer? And bring the prisoners. The people in Provo ought to appreciate the gear, don't you think?"
"Yeah." Blackhawk grinned.
They loaded the wounded carefully—Lizzie and Nev with Rachael driving the RAV. Jess with Zach in the Tank keeping an eye on Mannie's condition, with Charley with Saj in the back.
Further back Blackhawk drove the big beast of a truck pulling the trailer full of snowmobiles; with Duke and BeeGee guarding the Independents and renegade Collectors in the back.
Zach's eyes strayed to the white RAV Rachael was driving with Lizzie inside. His rag-tag, fugitive fleet following him on their way to Provo. He prayed that the truck Blackhawk drove and its contents were their ticket into Provo, rather than the eligible young women in their company.
What if something happens to Nev? What if they took her from him? Can't worry about that now. "Jess, where to?" Zach asked.
"We took an exit off I-15 that led us to a guard house."
Sure enough, when Zach saw University Parkway there were orange cones. He pulled onto the off-ramp. Plumes of smoke rose in the distance over Provo.
"As long as there're no Zombies we'll be fine." It didn't sound as funny as it had in his head, but Jess humored him with a hollow laugh.
At the guardhouse were half a dozen well-armed soldiers. They looked like real Army, not the impromptu paramilitary start-up in Idaho. He let the Tank roll to a stop a few feet short of the gate. The man without a rifle in his hands or a helmet on his head approached. "Who are you and where are you from?" His name patch said Benson.
The other soldiers splayed out around the vehicles.
"Zach Riley, Sedro-Woolley, Washington. We have wounded people. We need a doctor."
Benson swung his flashlight up, illuminating Mannie's face. He passed it across Zach and into the back seat.
"Please," Jess begged.
"I need a medic," Benson said into his mic, "or two, if possible."
Benson's walkie-talkie squawked, "Captain. Somebody IDing himself as Randall Blackhawk, U. S. Army Rangers, says he's bringing in Utah Independent prisoners and some renegade Collectors as gear to trade. Wounded coming in first."
"Check. Benson, out." Benson spoke into his radio mic, "Provo? Ambulance. Now."
His radio blew static and another voice replied, "Roger."
"The rest of you are going to have to wait." Benson motioned with his arm. "Pull over there."
Jess gasped in relief.
"Thank you, Sir." Zach moved the Tank. Soldiers helped Jess get Mannie onto a flat-board stretcher. Zach stepped down out of the cab and jogged back to the RAV.
A medic was checking Lizzie's pulse. "All right, let's move her." A second stretcher was coming, carried between two more soldiers.
Nev kissed Lizzie's forehead as the soldiers placed her on a stretcher. Zach stared at the blood on Lizzie's clothes. Maybe it wasn't all hers.
"Oh, god, Zach." Nev looked haggard as she fell into his arms.
The ambulance, siren wailing, drove into view.
Zach held Nev tight. None of the soldiers seemed overly interested in the women. "I hope we got them here in time."
The medics were pulling aside Mannie's and Lizzie's clothes, inspecting the wounds. The ambulance ground to a stop and the back doors popped open. Soldiers loaded both stretchers and then slammed the doors shut. One soldier slapped the door twice to indicate they were good to go and the ambulance sped off with siren howling. Zach closed his eyes and prayed. Let them live.
While the ambulance and medics had taken care of Lizzie and Mannie, Blackhawk had arrived. Benson oversaw the offloading of the prisoners. He had not questioned their status as prisoners or released any of them from their bonds, though it was clear he recognized some of the Collectors.
When he had sent them off, he turned his attention back to Zach and the others. "Everybody follow me." He led them into a building off the side of the road.
He took Zach into a small room and sat him down at a table. "I assume you can speak for the others." It was less a question and more an observation. Benson placed a small digital recorder on the table and said, "I need your statement. Start at the beginning."
Zach told Benson everything—almost: this time he did keep Glen out of it.