Toward the Brink (Book 3) by Craig A. McDonough

shot, he began to swagger.
    “Keep a watch behind us,” Mulhaven said before he introduced himself. “I’m Mulhaven. Riley Mulhaven. And the man with the itchy finger is Chess.”
    “Call me Sam,” the man said, though it sounded like Sham . “And you need to scratch your finger elsewhere, cowboy. I see you got yourself a vehicle. Good, that’s what we need.” Sam didn’t wait for acknowledgment. He headed straight to the Hummer.
    Mulhaven and Chess were stunned. “Do you think he really speaks that way or has he seen too many Humphrey Bogart movies?” Chess asked.
    Mulhaven raised a smile. He was impressed that Chess knew who Bogart was. “I’m not sure, but he’s a hoot, ain’t he?”
    Sam was in his late forties, average height, with dark, wiry hair. He sported thick five-day growth on his face as well as a healthy midsection. He’d kept himself well fed. For the weather, his clothes were on the thin side, and that was probably why he had remained inside the bus—and to keep away from the foamers, Mulhaven reasoned.
    “Err, Sam, any reason why you commented about having a good vehicle?”
    Sam looked to his left, then to his right, then back at Mulhaven, one eyebrow creased upward, one down. He tilted his chin into his chest—head at an angle—hitched up his dark brown canvas pants, and walked back to Mulhaven. His gait was slow and steady, if somewhat awkward.
    “We’ll go secure the exit route.” Johnny excused himself then motioned for the two other soldiers to follow. They left the congregation in front of the bus before they were overcome with laughter. Chess looked at Mulhaven like a young boy seeking permission from his dad to go along. None was given.
    “You just mentioned the foamers, right? Is that not reason enough to get out of here? Or perhaps you and Itchy here want to wipe them out single-handedly?”
    “Well, that’s why we came in search of a bus.”
    “A bus? You don’t make any sense, soldier. Perhaps you should just shhpit it out.”
    Mulhaven shut his eyes, counted to ten, and after a deep breath, informed Sam of the total number of people to transport, explaining why they’d come in search of larger transportation.
    “Why haven’t you taken the bus out of here?” Chess asked the obvious.
    “Because I don’t drive a bus.” Sam was short with his answer. “Besides, where the hell would I go?”
    Chess didn’t have an answer.
    “So you hid in this bus all through the night with all these foamers outside?”
    “All right, let me tell you. You see that tower over yonder?” Sam pointed to the clock tower of the Prince George court building. Only after Mulhaven acknowledged that he saw it did Sam continue. “My daddy always told me to keep my eye on the tower, see. As long as I did, then I wasn’t far from home. See what I’m saying?”
    Mulhaven gave an exuberant nod, his eyes full of interest. The reality was, he didn’t have a clue what Sam was saying, but it was the best live show he’d seen in years—and free, too!
    “Now, the reason he told me to keep my eye on that tower was, if I should ever get lost in town, I should make my way to the tower. My daddy would come and find me.”
    And we needed to know this because?
    “Now, when people got sick and started to change before my eyes, I remembered the tower. If it was good for safety then, it was good enough now. So I made my way to the top and bolted the door. Those things can’t climb, or maybe they didn’t know I was there. Either way, I’ve survived so far. During the day I’d forage for food in the stores then hide out in the bus—catch some shuteye.”
    Mulhaven told Sam he and the others were headed to an island off the coast where the foamers could be kept at bay. “You wanna join us?”
    “Y’think I wanna stay here?”
    It was a stupid question, Mulhaven admitted to himself.
    “How’s the gas on this bus?”
    “I have no idea, but there are diesel pumps at the rear of the depot building