keys dangled from the ignition.
Flashing a grin at Lauren, he sat down and fired it up. The engine roared to life. Garrett realized that they’d found a pot of gold. The truck could be used for communication, shelter, even transportation.
He rose to check the glove compartment, his pulse accelerating with hope. Unfortunately, it didn’t contain any weapons.
Lauren came in to investigate. Brushing by him, she scanned the sleeping area. Their eyes connected for a moment. She glanced away quickly, clearing her throat. While he turned on the radio, she searched the contents of the cab for any supplies they could use.
Garrett didn’t find a clean channel. There was nothing but static and interference. He picked up the receiver anyway, handing it to Lauren.
After a short hesitation, she sat down in the passenger seat and pressed the talk button. “This is Lauren Boyer of San Diego, California. We have an emergency situation and need immediate help.” She paused. “Over.”
“Tell them where we are,” he said.
“We’re trapped in a freeway collapse at the Interstate 8 and Highway 163 connection. There are ten survivors, some critically wounded. Please respond, over.”
Her plea was met with the flat crackle of white noise. They waited a few minutes, and she repeated the message, with no success.
“Morse code might work better,” he said. “It can be heard at long distances when voice communication isn’t viable.”
She set aside the receiver, her hands trembling. Garrett understood how she felt. They were on an emotional roller coaster. The ups and downs were more difficult to stomach than a steady barrage of bad news.
“Want to go for a ride?” he asked.
She looked startled. “In this?”
“Sure. Let’s take her back to camp. We need the radio nearby in case someone answers. If she feels up to it, Penny can send out a call in Spanish.”
“That’s a good idea,” she said. Some of the despair drained from her eyes. “Let’s do it.”
He put the truck into gear, released the hand brake and stepped on the gas. They took a serpentine route back to the RV because there were so many obstacles. He parked next to the triage area, facing the north corner.
Jeb and Mickey would have a hard time sneaking up on this baby. Tonight, Lauren could sleep in the back while Garrett stayed up front.
When he hazarded a glance at her, he realized that she also understood the benefits. Her lips curved into an appreciative smile, as if he’d done something special. She seemed grateful, and he didn’t know what to say.
She was the one who’d fought hard all night, trying to save lives. He’d just thrown a few punches after falling asleep on the job.
He scolded himself for being flattered by her attention. There wasn’t anyone else she could count on. It didn’t take any skill to tap out an SOS code, or do the heavy lifting. But he loved the way she looked at him, as if he were smart and honorable and strong. He wanted to be that man, the superhero she thought he was.
“You must have been a good soldier.”
He’d been a Marine, not a soldier, but he didn’t bother to correct her. “I was okay,” he said, shrugging. Off duty, he’d been pretty dishonorable.
“How many years did you serve?”
“In the Marine Corps?”
A crease formed between her brows. “Were you in another branch of the military?”
“No,” he said, tightening his hands on the steering wheel. “I served four years, two overseas.”
“Why’d you leave?”
“I had PTSD.” It was the truth, but such a small part of the truth that it felt like a lie. “After my second tour ended, I was discharged.”
“Did you get treatment?”
“Not really. I refused to see a psychologist.”
She made a sympathetic face.
“I was kind of screwed up.”
“How’d you get better?”
“I met some other war veterans. They were like a support group. I also read a lot. I read Dune while I was recovering.”
“Really? That’s amazing.”
He didn’t see how, but it wasn’t polite to argue with a lady.
“What else did you read?”
“Lots of things.” He tried to remember some titles. Science fiction and fantasy were his favorites. He also enjoyed travel stories, wilderness adventures...anything to take him away from cold, hard reality. “Watership Down, The Stand, Lord of the Rings, White Fang.”
She smiled. “I’ve read some of those.”
That didn’t surprise him. Her eyes were alight with intelligence and compassion. She reminded him of some of the teachers he’d had in college. “It’s kind of ironic, but the last book I read was about a guy who got his arm stuck in a rock.”
“Aron Ralston? I read that, too.”
“Did you?”
“Yes. It wasn’t my usual type of story, but I enjoyed it. I’ll read anything.”
“If I find any books in the cars, I’ll bring them to you.”
She glanced out the window, falling silent. They hadn’t been able to sit down for more than a few moments at a time. Leisure reading wasn’t on the schedule. “Hopefully we won’t have to cut any limbs off to get free.”
He shouldn’t have brought up that Ralston book. It was a little grisly. “Do you want to lie down and rest?”
“No,” she said. “I have to check on Mrs. Engle again. I’ll see if Penny can come over here to monitor the radio.”
He had to get going also. “Let me show you how to do a basic SOS.” Turning the CB back on, he tapped three short beats, followed by three longer beats, and then three more short beats. “It just repeats. You can try different channels and frequencies.”
Before he climbed out of the truck, she reached between them, covering his hand with hers. The bandage, which had been snowy-white in the predawn darkness, was now dingy. Like everything else he touched.
“Thank you,” she said.
“I haven’t done anything.”
“You’ve done a lot.”
Her hand looked small compared to his. Slender and capable, while his were clumsy, blunt fingered, brutish. She squeezed his palm gently, her fingertips sweeping
