otherwise, and within that thirty minutes they decided Angie’s instincts had been good. The firehouse would make a decent bunker, at least for a little while. It wasn’t the family compound, but it would do.
When they returned to the first floor they found the dead fireman standing and swaying near the radio. He turned and growled. Angie put him down without hesitation, a single blast to the face.
Other than the two sets of garage doors, they found several other ways into the station. A rear door – metal with an interior crash bar – opened to a small parking lot out back, filled with cars. It was tightly shut and could only be opened from the outside using a key. A glass door in a front foyer was concerning, but it locked with a thumb turn latch. Could those things break through a glass door? They decided that if they stayed, they would have to find a way to barricade it. Stairs led to a flat roof, which was empty except for an ashtray can and a couple of lawn chairs, and a fire escape led down from second and third floor windows on one side. The ladder was pulled up out of reach from the ground. All the windows on the ground floor were reinforced with crisscrossed wire.
The firehouse had a dormitory room of bunks, toilet and shower facilities, a large kitchen and pantry, a couple of small offices and the room with the radio. Sporadic voices floated from it, and they both had to resist the urge to stop and listen.
“We can hold here for a while,” said Bud, putting an arm around his niece’s shoulder. “Good pick.”
“We’re not staying long,” she said.
“I know. We’ll get to the compound.”
“That’s right, we will.” Her face was strained, and Bud knew comforting words wouldn’t get her to stop thinking of Dean and Leah. He was worried about them too, worried about his brother and his sister-in-law as well, but knew they were safe in Chico. Angie’s family was on the road, and wouldn’t be safe until they were behind the fences of the Franks ranch. He hoped they were on the road.
They walked through a long room with folding banquet tables and stacks of chairs. Balloons were tied in clusters, and a big banner at one end read, HAPPY 50 SCOTT!
“I’m…I wish I knew…”
Bud gave her shoulder a squeeze. “They’re safe, honey. Count on it.”
She nodded, not believing it and hating herself for it. She should be with them, keeping her family safe. If only the production schedule hadn’t called for the Alameda segment, or if it had been a week later, then they’d all be together. Angie’s Armory had been such a whirlwind, an excited fever of fame and money, a chance for her family – now fourth generation gunsmiths – to really build for the future. Contracts and photo shoots and parties, financial worries evaporated overnight, celebrities to meet…it fed her ego as well as their bank account. Now it was like ashes in her mouth, a meaningless pursuit of vanity and greed that had separated her from her daughter and the man she loved at a time when they needed her most.
They heard the electric whine and metallic rattle of a garage door opening.
Bud swore and bolted ahead, Angie right behind him, and they burst into the truck bay to see both front doors still down. At the back, the Cadillac driver stood at the switch, the left door raised three feet, motioning as a trio of people ducked inside, a young woman and two little kids.
“Thank you!” The woman hugged the Caddy driver as he grinned and lowered the door. She looked at the others, holding the kids close, a pair of girls five or six. “They were just wandering out there, crying. They’re not mine. I thought we were going to…” She trailed off.
The girls stayed close together, wiping at their eyes. “Where’s mommy?” one said.
“I saw them in the parking lot,” the Caddy driver said, “hiding between cars. Couldn’t let them stay out there.”
Bud Franks moved to the narrow windows and looked out. A pair of corpses were walking slowly between the cars. The Cadillac man had saved three lives, but Bud realized they were going to have to come to some kind of understanding about opening doors. Angie knelt in front of the little girls and spoke quietly with them, and her uncle eyed the older man in the Kangol hat. He stuck