Sarah Burks's Arc

Chapter 7 of 8

The lab was sealed and stocked. Sarah left the vault at dawn to check the new field hospital herself. The G.E.C.K. still waited past Level 4, but suits and a breach plan would take time. For now she needed eyes on the road and a count of who could walk. She climbed into the patrol truck and keyed the radio. Brad's voice came through over the engine noise. He ran the campaign against the ghoul raiders from a weathered board of patrol orders and a ten-day timeline. "Road's clean as of last check," he said. "But heh, stay sharp. Scattered ghouls still work your route. Information's currency out here, and mine says they move at first light." Sarah thanked him and watched the ridgeline. The truck's roof radar swept the dust. Then six shapes rose from a culvert and rushed the road. Ghouls. They moved together, not wild, flanking both doors. One slammed the hood. Sarah fired through the window and hit two. The driver swung the wheel. A ghoul tore the side mirror off. She grabbed the radio and pressed hard. "Distress call. Six ghouls, patrol road, taking fire. Need backup now." Her voice stayed level, but her tail lashed the seat. "Copy. Three minutes." The reply was clipped and flat. Fredrick Carr. The former special forces soldier never wasted a word. Brad had summoned him to help build the trade center, and now he ran its security. "Hold the vehicle. Do not dismount." Three minutes felt like thirty. A ghoul clawed the door handle open. Sarah kicked it shut and shot through the gap. The driver bled from one arm. She pressed her hand over the wound and kept her pistol up. Then a second truck roared over the rise. Carr leaned from the window and fired his .45 in short bursts. One ghoul dropped. Then another. He stepped out, walked forward, and finished the last two on the ground without hurry. He holstered the pistol and looked at Sarah through the broken glass. "You're hit?" he asked. "The driver. Not me." She climbed out, legs shaking. "Then drive him in," Carr said. "They'll come again. These ones plan." At the base, Sarah worked the field hospital bench herself. She cleaned the driver's arm and closed it with a stimpak. Two scouts from Carr's escort had claw cuts. She stitched one and dosed the other for radiation. Her hands stayed steady now that the fight was done. Brad found her washing blood from her gloves. He studied his timeline board, then tapped a date. "Parks needs nine days to finish the pancake house job," he said. "Until then, no spare guns for your vault road. We hold what we've got." Sarah nodded. The lab was secure, the hospital running. But the road between them bled, and she had nine days to wait before real help came. She pinned the driver's chart to the board and started counting the days.