Page 229 of American Hellhound
“Yeah,” Aidan said, roughly.
“You too,” Tango whispered.
Then he pulled back and clapped them on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”
~*~
Cars breezed past on I-40, kicking up dust and bits of gravel, road dirt. Ghost hissed when a hot pebble bounced off his arm.
“Van,” Walsh said.
It was dark blue, wrapped in a peeling sticker for a local plumber.
“I’ve seen them on the road before,” Rottie said. “They’re legit.”
The van passed, and it was back to watching.
They’d begun the day, just after dawn, with a patrol of the city. They broke it down into quadrants, searching in groups, on the look-out for anything that struck them as odd. When they came up empty – a blessing – they took watch dog posts within each sector, and here they sat, waiting, scanning.
At this point, if something was going to happen, Ghost wanted it to go ahead and happen already.
“Hey,” Walsh said, and they all looked.
A black van, no markings, headed into Knoxville. It slowed a fraction when it drew alongside them, shifted over a lane. Then, once it was past, shifted back and headed up the exit ramp.
Ghost caught a glimpse of driver and passenger, both bearded and wearing sunglasses.
Walsh started the truck and they followed.
~*~
Maggie was in the process of nursing Ash when her phone rang. She held him steady with her left arm and dug her cell from her back pocket with the right, shifting carefully on the dorm bed so she didn’t dislodge him. The boy liked his groceries. Maybe it was silly, but she felt a moment’s self-consciousness, caught with her shirt open, in the middle of this intimate maternal moment. Whoever was on the line wouldn’t be able to see her, now, but she didn’t love the interruption.
Then she thought it might be Ghost, calling with news…or one of the other guys, calling with news about Ghost, and her blood ran cold.
“Whoever” turned out to be her mother, though.
“Mom?”
“Oh my God,” Denise said by way of greeting, voice choked with panic. “Margaret, it’s your father. I’ve called 911.”
Her stomach moved through a complex sequence of flips. “His heart?” Her own pounded wildly in her chest. Ash squirmed against her breast, fussing.
“Yes, he’s – I don’t know what’s happening. He had terrible chest pains. I called an ambulance. I didn’t know what else to do…” Denise sounded like a different person entirely, unmoored and emotional.
Maggie would have to be the calm one, she realized. In this instance, her mother couldn’t. “Okay,” she said, squashing her own panic. “Okay, that’s good. Are you en route?”
“Y-yes.”
“Good. Okay.” Jesus. “Did you bring his meds?”
“Yes.” Stronger: “Of course.”
“Okay.” She cradled Ash close, already feeling like someone had snatched him away from her. “Do you need me to come?”
“I…” Denise’s hesitance and doubt told Maggie all that she needed to know: This was bad, and her mom wanted her there. Needed her support. And then: “Please, I…”
“Okay, I’m coming.”
