Ninety Degrees Out
Chapter Seventy Two

Mike Ingersoll jogged across the runway. The upended Enduro motorcycle, and wide open infirmary door, brought him to a sprint. His silver head lit up as his hat bounced off his head. He didn’t pause to pick it up. Whatever was going on inside the hospital tent, was more important.

Daily fitness workouts were doing the trick. Even at my age. Goes to prove staying active really works. Damn, is that a gunshot? Doesn’t sound quite right.

He ducked through into the office in time to hear a body hit the floor, along with what sounded like a shelving unit slamming down too.

The door to their single intensive care bed was open. Anya wasn’t anywhere to be found.

What the hell is going on in here?

“Stay the fuck down!” Alicia’s angry voice confirmed an intruder.

“Mommy!” Arimina’s scream from the darkened room added to the chaos.

Mike spotted the body on the floor under a heavy metal shelving frame.

“Freeze! Everyone freeze!”

His shout echoed every so slightly through the unused portion of their tent. When silence descended, he drew a deep breath, inhaling the faint scent of gunpowder.

“All right. Alicia, show yourself. I know you’re in the big storage area.”

He stayed where he was at the divider between the office and triage area.

Alicia came through the open archway to the left of the intensive care room.

“Is he down? I mean all the way?”

He nodded.

“Okay, Arimina, you can come out now.”

The little minx came out holding her rifle to her shoulder.

“Is he dead?”

Her eyes narrowed as she studied the man in a denim jacket with a white and red beribboned dart sticking out of his right shoulder.

“I don’t think so, baby. I shot him with a tranquilizer. Do you see it?”

Alicia pointed to man as he rolled from his side to his back. Then he started to snore. Mike laughed at the sound.

“Okay, he might have sleep apnea, but he’s alive.”

“You guys okay out there?”

Olivia’s question stopped him mid chuckle.

“Yes, Miss Olivia. The bad man is sleeping.”

Ari’s statement came with a tug on Mike’s hand.

He followed her and found Olivia Hartly wide awake and sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest.

“Looks like you’re back in the land of the living,” he said as he flipped the monitor back on. “How did you know where the off switch was?”

“I’m a nurse. And a teacher. Switch after PTSD got to me. Used to be an OR nurse. Did some time in intensive care too. Pretty bad headache still, but I’m not seeing double, and the damn scrape on my jaw is starting to itch. I’d say I’m healing. Just need to take it easy for the next week or so.”

Olivia’s quick staccato delivery made Dr. Mike nod.

“I agree. I’ve got another patient that needs this bed. I’m sure he’s going to be sedated for a few hours if I don’t miss my guess.” He raised an eyebrow at Alicia as he finished his thought.

“The darts were loaded for the cubs; they were still sleeping when I left Anya up at the den. They’re almost a hundred pounds now, so this should put that skinny excuse for a human out for a couple of hours anyway.”

Everyone turned to watch Ari as she cleared the chamber of her rifle. Flipping it up to stand on its barrel she could barely reach the release for the loading tube, and Mike went over to help her. Ari slipped the round back inside and he twisted the cap back in place.

“Do we have clothes for Olivia?” Mike asked.

“In the cabinet over there. Akira washed what she had and mended the tears in the sleeve of her shirt,” Alicia said.

“Does she have a room assigned yet?” He was checking off his discharge instructions inside his head as he asked.

“No, but she will. There are still a few that are empty.” Alicia went over and retrieved a stack of clothes for Olivia.

“So, let’s get these heart leads off me, and I’ll vacate. I’m pretty sure I can walk if I take it slow. No signs of dizziness. Thanks for the rescue, by the way.” Olivia began disconnecting the leads for the EKG.

A groan from the other room caught Mike’s attention.

“I’ll go take care of getting him ready. You ladies? Job well done. I’m impressed. Send one of the men over to help me move him, would you?”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Randy’s handgun slapped against his thigh, where he had it in a tactical holster. Pulling it out, he checked the chamber, and loaded a round into it. Flipping the safety back on he put back in place. Turning onto a game trail from the wide trail they maintained beside the creek, he slipped through the trees toward the highway intersection.

Finding two heavy Harleys over on their sides, he put his back to one and pressed up, lifting it with his lower back. Not the best thing for it, but the only way to get at the fuel line underneath the fender.

He pulled it away from the carburetor and aimed it into the fuel container sitting beside him. His eyes scanned the area, restlessly. Prickles ran across his neck, but he knew the nerves for what they were. A reminder to stay alert.

With one bike finished, the other one was easier to deal with. The feul line on this one was right out in the open and he didn’t have to lift it. In fact, he was able to run the line right into the top of his container. He trained his eyes on the highway. Bird calls were his only company, until he heard the purr of a touring bike. Where the hell did they steal that one from?

He dropped on the other side of the bike, hidden by the first one he emptied. He was right, they were back. Two guys with a fuel can. Not on his watch.

He braced himself, steadying his pistol. Two shots, good thing this was a semi-automatic. Patience. Wait for them to get close enough for an accurate shot. They weren’t scanning like they should be. Stupid mistake. Their last.

He took the front guy first, and as he slumped forward, hit the second one in the face. Two more bodies and another tank to empty. A new fuel can for them too. Back in the warzone again. He blocked the bloody mess on the road out, efficiently adding several gallons of gas to their stores.

The trip back to the house taxed him. Two five-gallon containers, each almost two thirds full, were a hefty burden.

Satisfying though. Better in our hands than theirs.

The bike gang was down to four. His bet was on the ranch taking out the one that went down their way.