They circled the precinct, hoping that Captain Cannon had made it out. Higgins watched stoically, as he drove slowly around several times, craning his neck. Zombies crowded around the van, slamming themselves against it futilely, moaning.
After the fifth circuit, Elliott sighed. Fipps clapped a hand sadly on Higgins’ shoulder. “I’m sorry, man. We really need to go find the girl if we can.”
Higgins slumped in the driver’s seat, but nodded, and instead of turning back around the station, he made a right turn and headed in the opposite direction.
Elliott crouched between Jackson and Higgins so he could see out the windows. He twisted his neck back and forth, hopelessly looking for a flash of blonde hair.
“Do you have any idea where she might have gone?” Roger asked.
Elliott shook his head, internally berating himself. Junie was one of his best friends; how could he not guess what she was thinking? If she was hurt or worse, infected, he would never forgive himself. Even worse, he couldn’t help worrying about Shavian too: she did not look like she was handling this well.
“Elliott, my boy,” Roger said suddenly from the back. “Wasn’t there some fellow down here she was sweet on? Some coffee bloke?”
Elliott’s heart leapt. Rog was right! What was the name of that coffee company? Something about trees?
“Treeville!” Elliott exclaimed. “Treeville Coffee Company is down here. Of course she would try to save the coffee. Roger, you’re a genius.”
“I know that place,” Fipps said. He leaned over Elliott. “Take a left here on Burnside.”
Renewed in their mission, Higgins gunned the engine on the SWAT truck. As they left the densely populated areas of downtown Portland, there were fewer zombies to contend with. Elliott didn’t hold out much hope that Junie had made it this far though. He fought despair, but he’d seen Junie do stranger things than just walk through a horde of man-eating savages.
As they drove, Jackson repeatedly turned around to try to gape at Shavian. He seemed to pay little heed to the warning glares from the other men, but the growls of the dog were enough to deter him from doing more than look.
Higgins slammed on the brakes. Shavian yelped and wrapped her arms around Pat. Jackson, who had not bothered with his seat belt, jerked forward and hit his head on the dashboard; Higgins smirked.
“Safety first,” Elliott piped sarcastically, surprised at his own bravado: Jackson terrified him but Elliott now knew there were worse things in the world than bad men.
And there was a whole horde of them right in front of the van.