by Dziekan, PJ
Becca clapped her hands. “Holy crap, Mick! How’d we get so lucky?”
“Had to turn good eventually. Can you grab that tote?”
“Mick,” Becca said, hefting the tote. “Camping and hunting usually go hand in hand.”
Mick smiled broadly. “Let’s check the rest of the house after we load this up.”
At the gas station, they feasted on lasagna and peach cobbler for lunch, laughing, making plans for their next few meals. The two rifles, the .357 Magnum and ammunition they found in the house lay on the workbench behind them. For the first time since Sarah and Dylan climbed the wall of cars, leaving him behind, he felt hopeful.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The afternoon waned. Mick and Becca, full and satisfied from their lunch, found magazines in the garage office. The magazines were months old when the world ended, but that didn’t stop them from flipping through the pages, remarking on celebrities long dead, trends long forgotten.
Becca heard it first, but thought it was just air escaping from a log on the fire. She poked at the flames, shifting the logs, but the sound was still there. “Mick?” She said softly.
He lifted his head from the tattered magazine. “What?”
“Do you hear something?”
He cocked his head. His eyes widened. “That’s a vehicle!” He exclaimed, dropping the magazine and jumping to his feet.
Becca stood, the magazine on her lap fluttering to the floor. “Is it them?”
“I don’t know.” He pulled his tire iron from where it rested on the shelf behind him then turned to the workbench where the guns lay scattered. He picked up the Magnum and shoved it in his waistband. He crossed the garage, peering out the window that they had cleaned of grime.
“See anything?” Becca asked from directly behind him. She was clutching her crowbar so tight, her knuckles were white.
“No. I’ll have to go out.” He brushed past her.
“Wait, Mick.” She grabbed his arm and he stopped. “What if it’s not them?”
“I’ll duck back in. Don’t worry.” He pulled away from her and moved to the door. She bit her lip as he went outside.
Mick flattened himself against the concrete wall, peering over the broken and battered ice machine. He watched the road, listening as the vehicle approached. It was a dusty Ford Expedition, the formerly black vehicle marred with scratches. The driver pulled into the lot, parking in front of the office. Absently, Mick touched the gun in his waistband then gripped the tire iron. The passenger door opened.
“Mick!” The tall, gaunt and filthy bearded man said. He turned his head and spotted Mick behind the ice machine.
“Ryan?” Mick questioned.
“Mick!” Ryan ran over and grabbed his brother in a bear hug. The tire iron dropped from Mick’s fingers to clang on the concrete as he embraced his brother.
“Thank God! Ryan!” He pulled back, his arm still on Ryan’s shoulder. “You look like shit.”
Ryan laughed. “Yeah, but I feel pretty good now.”
“Where’s Sarah?” The smile left Ryan’s face. “What? Where is she?” Mick’s voice trembled.
Ryan stood aside. Mick saw Sarah standing behind the back door. Her face was battered: split lip, a knot on her forehead, her eye bruised, a shadow on her jaw.
“Mick,” she whispered.
He dropped his arm from his brother’s shoulder and bounded towards Sarah. His mouth dropped open when she stepped out from behind the door and he saw the blood staining her lower half. He vaguely heard a gasp from behind him. “Sarah?”
He pulled her into his arms and she cried out as her wounded body pressed against him. It didn’t stop her from wrapping her arms around him, holding him as tight as she could. “I’m so sorry,” she rasped, her voice thick with tears.
“What happened?” He whispered into her hair.
She was with Mick. She was safe. She sagged in his arms as unconsciousness took her again.
♦
“What the fuck happened?” Mick demanded. He had carried Sarah into the garage and laid her on his makeshift bed. He knelt beside her, willing her eyes to open.
Ryan, Bobby and Donna were crouched around the fire, wolfing down freeze dried beef stroganoff that Becca had prepared. Becca was ripping her new tee shirts into rags, which she set on the pallet next to Sarah.
“I’m really not sure, Mick,” Dylan said.
“You said you’d watch out for her!” Mick snarled. “You said you’d protect her.”
Dylan shook his head. “I know, Mick. You can’t know how sorry I am.”
“What the fuck good is that?” Mick roared.
Becca laid a hand on his shoulder. “It doesn’t help now.”
He turned away, looking down at Sarah. He brushed a stray hair from her cheek. “What happened?” He asked softly.
“They separated us when we got there,” Dylan started. “Put her with the women and me with a group of guys. Put me to work as a mechanic but she – she –”
“Women were prostitutes,” Donna interrupted. “Bill said that was all we were good for.” She cringed at the burning anger in Mick’s eyes. “She didn’t do it,” she said hurriedly. “I took her place.” Her hand absently traced the fading bruises on her neck.
“Thank you.” Mick managed a small smile, despite the turmoil he was feeling inside.
“This guy, Austin, wanted her,” Dylan continued. “He went to where she was staying with Donna. He smacked Donna around and took Sarah.” He looked over at Donna. “She came and got me right away and we went looking for her with Harry.”
“Who’s Harry?” Becca asked. She was digging in her pack, looking for a clean pair of pants.
“He helped us. I don’t know if he felt guilty or what, but if it wasn’t for him, none of us would be here.” Dylan looked back at Mick. “We found Sarah unconscious in Austin’s basement. He was dead beside her, a screwdriver in his thigh. She must’ve stabbed him in the femoral artery.”
Mick swallowed audibly. “Did he –”
“She said no,” Dylan interrupted. “But he worked her over pretty good.” He looked down at his lap, then back up to Mick. “I’m sorry about the baby.”
Mick nodded, tears in his eyes.
“Speaking of,” Becca said hesitantly. “We need to get those clothes off her and clean her up.” She held her only clean pair of pants in her hand.
“OK.” Mick swiped a hand across his eyes. “What do you want me to do?”
“I want you and all the guys to leave. Donna and I can take care of her.”
“No!” Mick exclaimed. “I’m not leaving her.”
“Mick, let us take care of her,” she said gently. “You don’t want to see this.”
He glared at Becca, but he saw the determination in her eyes. “You have five minutes,” he growled. He pressed a kiss to Sarah’s forehead and stood. He stormed from the garage, not waiting for the other guys. They followed him, Ryan and Bobby carrying their plates.
Becca kneeled next to Sarah and unbuttoned her jeans. “You don’t mind helping me, do you?” She asked, glancing at Donna.
“No, no.” Donna set her plate aside with just two bites remaining and walked over to Becca and Sarah. “What do you want me to do?”
“Help me get her jeans off.” Together, they worked the wet denim down her legs. Becca bit back a sob when she saw the blood and deep bruises on her thighs. While Donna worked the denim over her feet, Becca dropped her tee shirt rags into the warm water remaining from the stroganoff. She began to clean Sarah’s legs, tears streaming unchecked down her cheeks.
“She said – she said you were all equal,” Donna stammered.
“We are. But she’s our leader. She’s the strongest person I’ve ever known.” Becca rinsed the rag, watching the water turn pink. “She saved my life.”
“She saved mine, too. I don’t know how much longer I could have lasted there.”
The water was murky by the time they finished cleaning Sarah.
Donna folded fabric and they placed it gently between her legs. They redressed her in Becca’s pants, cuffing up the ends because Becca was just a bit taller than Sarah, then moved onto her torso. Her skin was mottled with red. Becca gasped when she opened Dylan’s coat and removed Sarah’s bra. The bruises from Austin’s hands stood out on her pale breasts. “If that bastard wasn’t dead, I’d kill him myself,” she muttered.
“He was a bad man,” Donna replied. “I’m glad she killed him.”
Becca wiped down Sarah’s torso and had Donna hold her up so she could clean her back. They dressed her in the last shirt that Becca had pulled from the house, a long-sleeved black tee. They laid her back down gently, Becca smoothing her tangled hair from her forehead. “Her hair needs to be braided,” she said. “She always has her hair braided.” Becca’s voice broke and tears flowed down her cheeks.
“She’ll be OK.” Donna rubbed Becca’s arm. “Like you said, she’s strong.”
“I hope so.”
Donna went out to get the guys. Mick went straight to Sarah’s side, kneeling next to her. “Did she wake up?”
“No,” Becca answered. She had wiped the tears from her cheeks, but her eyes still burned.
“Has she slept a lot?”
“On and off on the ride back,” Ryan said.
“It’s normal, Mick.” Becca rinsed Sarah’s blood from her hands with a bottle of water. “She’s been through a lot.”
“Is she still…” Mick swallowed. “Is she still bleeding?”
“Yes.” Becca’s voice was low.
“We have to go. We have to get her back to April. She’ll know what to do.”
“We’ll go in the morning, Mick,” Dylan said.
“No, now.” He stood up and began gathering his things. “We’re going now.”
“It’s too late,” Dylan countered. “It took us two days to get here. We can go first thing in the morning.”
“I’m going now.” Mick shrugged his backpack onto his shoulders. “You can come with me or not.”
“I’m coming,” Ryan said softly.
“Me, too,” came Becca’s voice.
Dylan sighed. “Guess we’ll all go, then.”
“Dylan, you drive the Ford,” Mick said. He tightened the straps on his pack and walked over to where Sarah lay. “Ryan, think you can drive?”
“Sure.”
“You drive the Jeep.” He dug in his pocket for the keys and flipped them to his brother.
“I’ll ride with you guys.” Becca started to gather her stuff.
“Dylan, you follow with Donna and Bobby. Can someone douse that fire?” He bent and lifted Sarah, cradling her close to his chest.
They split what remained of their salvage equally between the two vehicles. Mick and Sarah sat in the back of the Jeep, her head in his lap. Ryan drove, with Becca in the passenger seat. “It’s like the four musketeers, together again,” she quipped.
Mick managed a smile while Ryan groaned. “That was bad, Becca.”
She smiled. “Not as bad as you smell.”
Mick knew what they were doing and he appreciated it. But he still tuned out their banter as he stared down at Sarah, willing her to open her hazel eyes.
♦
Becca had fallen asleep, her head lolling against the window. Ryan glanced in the rearview mirror, saw Mick with his head back against the seat, his eyes closed. As Ryan watched, his eyes popped open. “You OK?” He asked Ryan.
“I’m good. How’s Sarah?”
“Still sleeping.” Mick rubbed his eyes. “I should have been there. I never should have let her go in.”
“Have you ever been able to stop Sarah from doing what she wanted?” Ryan asked with a smile.
“It’s not funny, Ryan. She never should have gone in there. Look at what happened to her.”
“Mick, you would be dead. I know.” He shook his head. “They kept us in an unlocked room, but we were surrounded by zombies. They’d throw food to us once a day. I watched three guys die while I was there. One of them, they just shot because he kept defying them. That would have been you.” He drove around a three-car pile-up in the road. “And where would she be then?”
“Yeah, where would I be then?” Sarah’s voice rasped.
Mick’s eyes flew to hers. “Sarah?” His hand caressed her cheek.
“I’ll heal,” she said, her tongue slipping out to wet her lips. “But if you died, I wouldn’t.”
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there with you.” His voice was thick with emotion.
“I’m glad you weren’t.” She shifted on his lap. “I’m sorry about the baby.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I wish – I wish –”
“Shh. You’re OK, you’re safe. That’s all that matters.”
She smiled softly. “You’re safe. And your brother is safe. And we brought home some more strays.” She took a deep breath and winced. “I’m so tired.” Her eyes drifted closed.
“Sarah?” Mick’s voice held a thread of panic. The slow rise and fall of her chest eased his anxiety somewhat. But not entirely. “Go faster, Ryan.”
♦
They drove through the night, only stopping for quick bathroom breaks. Becca took over when Ryan could no longer keep his eyes open. Mick dozed in the back with Sarah, one hand always resting on her body, feeling her breathing. He roused when they turned onto the rutted road that led to the cabin. He blinked his eyes in the mid-afternoon light. “We’re almost home,” he whispered to Sarah’s sleeping form.
As the road got rougher, she woke up. “Mick?”
“We’re almost home, Sarah,” he repeated, his finger sliding her hair from her forehead. Did she feel feverish?
“Good.” She pressed her hands on the seat and pushed, but she had no strength. “Help me sit up.”
“Just stay there, Sarah.”
She fixed her gaze on his. “I want to sit up. I don’t want the kids to see me like this.”
“Sarah…”
“Mick, help me sit up.” Even though her face was battered, her eye nearly swollen shut, Mick could see the determination.
He helped her to sit. The smile faded when he saw her grimace, heard her sharp gasps of pain. “No,” he said, pulling her gently back to his lap. “Just stay here.”
“Mick…”
“For once, would you listen to me?”
There was something in his voice, under the anger, the exasperation. Sarah placed a hand on his chest. “OK.”
“Thank you.”
After a few minutes of rough riding, Sarah heard the kids yelling. The Jeep stopped and she felt it move as Ryan and Becca opened their doors. She heard April’s voice, excited, then her gasp of dismay. The door by her feet opened and April peered in, her face a mask of concern.
“Sarah? Can I help you out?”
Sarah looked up at Mick. “Am I allowed to get up now?”
He smiled down at her. “Yes. Be careful.” He helped to ease her to a sitting position. Her hands tightened on his as a wave of pain flowed through her. She closed her eyes, breathing deep until the dizziness had passed. When her head stopped spinning, she opened her eyes and put her hand in April’s outstretched one, with Mick supporting her back.
She walked under her own power, Mick and April bracketing her up the porch. Elizabeth and Mikey were there, staring at her with big wide eyes. “Hey, guys!” She exclaimed, smiling. “I missed you.”
“What happened to you, Miss Sarah?” Elizabeth asked.
“I fell down, but I’m OK now.” As much as she hated to lie, the kids didn’t need to know what happened to her, that there were such horrible people still out there in the world.
“Did you bring us anything?” Mikey asked.
Sarah laughed, though it hurt. “No, sorry, sweetie. Maybe next time.”
“Mikey, go see Becca. Tell her I said to give you the cobbler,” Mick said.
Sarah turned to look at Mick as the kids ran for Becca. “Cobbler?”
“We found a shitload of
freeze-dried meals.” He nudged her forward.
“Wow, hope there’s some left for me after they get done.”
Mick smiled. “Yeah. Peach.”
Sarah stuck her tongue out at him. She winced a little when she felt the cut on her lip.
Mick’s smile faded. “Let’s get you inside, OK?”
“I need a shower,” she said as they walked through the door.
“Will you be able to manage yourself?” April asked just as Mick said, “I’ll help you.”
Sarah slowly shook her head. “Shower’s too small. I’ll be fine. I just – I just have to get his touch off of me.” She shuddered.
April looked at Mick, her eyes wide. He barely moved his head as he shook it. “OK. I’ll wait in the bathroom for you.” Sarah pulled her arm from his and he let her go.
“Mick, why don’t you fill in Dominic and Jack on what happened.”
“I’ll stay here.”
“Mick –”
“Let him stay, April,” Sarah interrupted. “He’s been a bear lately.” She made it to the bathroom and sat on the toilet with a sigh. “Just let me get into that shower and back in my bed. That air mattress sucked.”
♦
“I didn’t know she was pregnant.” Ryan walked around the Jeep.
“It slipped out when we found out you were taken,” Dylan replied. He popped the hatch of the Jeep and pulled out a tote filled with freeze dried meals. “Sarah wanted to go, Mick didn’t want her to, so they fought and it came out.” He looked at the doorway where Sarah had disappeared. “I can’t believe she miscarried. They’ve both got to be pretty upset.”
“Of course, they are,” Ryan said. He grabbed a small tote, wincing at the strain. “It’s my fault. I don’t know if they can ever forgive me.”
Dylan stopped walking toward the barn. “They don’t blame you. It could have happened at anytime, anywhere.”
“But it happened while she was rescuing me. That man beat her, nearly raped her.” Dylan could hear the suffering in his voice. “It’s my fault.”
“Hello?” They both heard the soft female voice.
Dylan and Ryan looked at each other, then around the yard. “Who said that?” Ryan asked.