by Ralph Gibbs
“Let’s go,” he said.
Paris spotted the radio and grabbed it.
Franklin found Gunilla and her group standing on the shore. “Get in the boat,” Franklin said.
“What boat?” Gunilla said.
“What? Son of a . . .” Franklin said. He looked around before spotting it downriver about fifteen yards away. “Shit. Come on.” He ran down the shore to catch his boat. The boy followed, and they both jumped in the water and pulled the boat to shore.
“Is your name Travis?” Franklin asked.
“Yes, sir,” he said. “Have we met before?”
“No. I just heard them talking about you over the radio.” Travis nodded his understanding.
“This is your boat?” Paris asked, not sounding impressed.
“It may not look like much, but it’ll get us to the other side,” Franklin said. “Unless they can fly, we should be fine.
“Everyone get in,” Paris ordered.
“Paris,” Franklin said. “That bag has a few more weapons and ammo in it. Take what you need.” Paris looked in the bag as Franklin heaved the boat from the beach. Franklin saw a wide grin spread across Paris’ face as he jumped in and started paddling across the river.
“This is more like it,” Paris said as she checked the load.
“Thought you might like that,” Franklin said. “You seem the sort of gal that’s used to handling heavy weapons. Okay, everyone, start paddling with whatever you have.” He handed Travis his assault weapon. “Here, use this to paddle. I’ve been using it for the last couple days.” Travis shoved the pistol in his waist, grabbed the weapon from Franklin and frantically started paddling. “Make for the far shore.” Franklin used the ore like a rudder to angle them into the river so that the current would help propel them along.
“Why not just go downstream?” Gunilla asked, turning to Franklin.
“We’re in the meandering part of the Shenandoah,” Franklin said.
“What does that mean?” the wounded girl asked.
“It means the river goes back and forth,” Travis said. He used his hands to illustrate. “It’s like a snake slithering down a trail.”
“These meanders are extensive,” Franklin said. “Which means by the time we get around one; they’ll be waiting for us.” Behind them, the house started to burn. “Paddle faster. If they don’t know you’re gone, they soon will.” They were nearly across the river when they heard shouting.
“There they are,” someone yelled, followed quickly by the sound of gunfire. Paris fired off a few shots in rapid succession, surprising and scattering them.”
“That should keep their head down,” she said and pulled the radio from her waist.
“Ethan,” Paris said. When there was no answer, she tried again. “Come on, Ethan, I know you can hear me.”
“Start paddling downriver,” Franklin ordered.
Travis looked at Franklin, “I thought you said—”
“I don’t want them to see us land,” Franklin said. “I want them to think we’re headed downstream. Let them waste time trying to cut us off.”
“Paris,” the voice on the other side of the radio said. “I should have killed you when we first captured you, but the boys were bored.”
“Yes, you should have,” Paris said stoically. “But you didn’t.” Paris gripped the radio tighter, looking as if she might crush it. “I want you to know that someday soon, I’ll be coming for you. It might not be tomorrow or the next, but I’ll be coming for you and the rest of your fucking cult. Sleep easy tonight. Starting tomorrow, your days are numbered.”
“I’ll be wait—” but Paris dropped the radio in the river cutting off the rest.
“Feel better?” Franklin asked.
“I’ll feel better when I hang that son of a bitch,” Paris said.
Franklin started to say something but thought better of it. “Okay, head for the shore,” he said instead. “We’re out of sight.” Once on the beach, Franklin and Paris pulled the boat into the woods.
“Do they have dogs?” Franklin asked.
“No,” Travis said.
“Then I doubt they’ll find the boat or where we put to shore, but to be safe, we should travel the rest of the night,” Franklin said. “We’ll rest for a few hours come dawn.” The injured girl limped over to a fallen log and sat down.
“Hand me the first aid kit out of my bag,” Franklin said. Paris grabbed the kit. As she did, she noticed the prison label.
“I was a guard,” Franklin said.
“The prisoners?” Paris asked.
“Does it matter?” he answered as he looked at the girl’s wound. Paris didn’t answer. “The wound is still bleeding, and all this moving isn’t going to help.” He wrapped an ace bandage around her leg. “This should slow the bleeding, but once we’re safe, we’ll need to deal with this. I might know where we can go for help, but it’s some ways off.” Pointing to two of the girls, he said, “Help—”
“Rebecca,” Travis said.
“Help Rebecca,” Franklin finished.
“I’ll do it,” Travis said, moving toward the girl.
“No,” Franklin said. “You need to rest and lead the way. You can take over later.” Franklin pointed into the woods. “Head that way, but don’t get too far ahead.” He turned to the group and said, “All right, stay close. It’ll be dark in the forest. If you get separated, we’ll never find you. Paris, take the rear.”
Several hours later, as the sun crested the mountains, the wet and tired group broke through the damp forest and found a road. Franklin and Paris pushed the group hard through the night to put as much distance from the river as they could, stopping for a short break twice. After reaching the road, all but Paris and Franklin collapsed.
“Do you know what road this is?” Paris asked Travis.
“I think we’re on 340,” Travis said. “South of Front Royal.”
“How far is this town?” Paris asked.
“If we were in a car, I’d say an hour,” Travis said. “On foot, we’re looking at maybe a day or two.
“We’ll need to go around Front Royal,” Franklin said. “They’ll be waiting there. We need to find a map. I’m not real familiar with this area.”
“Where we headed?” Paris asked Franklin.
“Round Hill,” Franklin said.
“That town is pretty much, straight up this road,” Travis said. “Shouldn’t be more than a few days past Front Royal. You’re right about Front Royal. We need to go around it. It’s a bottleneck.”
“Why go around?” Gunilla asked, checking over Rebecca’s wound. “Rebecca needs medical attention. It will have a hospital, yes.”
“Front Royal will have the closest bridge,” Franklin said. “Most likely, that’s where they will be headed.”
“They’ll split up,” Travis said. “There’s another bridge twenty miles downriver they can use as well.”
“Then we need to get going,” Paris said.
Gunilla pulled Franklin and Paris aside and whispered, “Rebecca needs medical attention and soon. Infection is setting in, and she’s starting to run a fever.”
“Can you fix her?” Paris asked.
“Yes, but I need access to medical supplies.”
“You a doctor?” Franklin asked.
“Of sorts,” Gunilla said.
“I’ve got some antibiotics I raided from the prison infirmary if that will help,” Franklin said. “Not many though, five or six. The doctor used most of them before she died.”
“It’s better than nothing,” Gunilla said. Franklin fished in the bag and pulled out a green bottle and handed them over. “This is a start, but I need to get that bullet out.”
“Let’s get going then,” Franklin said. “There’s bound to be a place up the road we can stop.” Franklin turned to Travis. “Hey kid, you any good with a rifle?”
“Everybody in these parts is good with a rifle,” he said.
“Fine,” Franklin said. “I want yo
u to cover the rear. Stay a few dozen feet behind us.”
“I’m good with a gun too,” Addison said. During their rush through the woods, Addison had been the first to break the silence, when, on their first break, she suddenly jumped up from where she was resting and rushed into his arms.
“Thank you,” she said repeatedly.
Feeling awkward and embarrassed, and not knowing what else to do, he tentatively patted her back with one hand and said she was welcome every time she said thank you. Addison looked like a typical country farmer’s daughter. She was thick, just shy of looking overweight, with a slight paunch. She might have given birth within the last few years. At the moment, with her dark brown hair, which matched her eyes, she looked like a cartoon character that had stuck its finger in a light socket and then plunged its head into a bucket of twigs and leaves. In that regard, they all looked similarly disheveled.
The wounded girl, Rebecca, was the most average looking girl of the group; average height, average weight, average features with brown hair and green eyes. Then there was Tempest. Had the world remained intact, there would have been a modeling career in this girl’s future. She was twenty-three, nearly six-foot-tall with a slight scarecrow frame and large breasts that were all the rage in the modeling market. Her wild leaf-and-twig filled, dirty blond hair only served to make her more beautiful. And yet, there was a wild look to her eyes that matched her name. God help anyone that pissed her off.
Gunilla was an Amazon in every sense of the word. This Swedish woman, who was in her mid-twenties, towered over six feet tall and had long elegant, yellow gold hair and a deep set of blue emerald eyes that sparkled when you stared into them. Looking into her eyes was like gazing into the soul of the universe. More importantly, Gunilla was as smart as she was tall. She was also built like a mixed martial arts champion. It would take a sizable number of kamikaze shots before any guy worked up the nerve to try a pickup line on her, and even then, he would most likely be scared shitless that she would lift him up by his balls and hang him from the nearest coat hook. And then there was Paris.
Winston Churchill once said Russia was a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. That statement was a perfect description of Paris. There was an air of gentleness about her he saw when she was urging the girls on through the night, and yet, he had seen her kill a man with no more hesitation than he would kill a cockroach. If he were the man on the other end of that radio, he would take her threat very seriously. She would return; of that, he had no doubt.
Of the group, she was the tallest, except for Gunilla, and looked to be carrying the weight of the world on her slight frame. Yet, for all Gunilla’s Amazonian ruggedness, Franklin had the distinct feeling that Paris could take her in a fight in mere moments. Paris had dark hair, almond-shaped brown eyes, and looked to be of Native American and Asian heritage. Now that he was up close with the woman, the pantsuit, and white shirt Paris was wearing looked government-issue and guessed Paris was either a marshal or an FBI agent. If she put on a pair of sunglasses, she could even be CIA, which might explain why there was an unmistakable air of confidence surrounding her.
Franklin turned back to Travis and said, “If someone comes up from behind, yell out a warning and hightail it into the woods. If shooting starts, you attack from behind, and hopefully, we’ll catch them in a crossfire. The rest of you will have to help Rebecca. We’re close to Front Royal, so I’m guessing we’ll find something sooner rather than later.” Three hours later, that something turned out to be a self-storage facility.
CHAPTER 22
In an action born of tradition, not logic, Franklin pounded on the storage facility’s office door. The odds were good no one was inside, but on the off chance someone was there, barging in would invite more violence. Finally, confident the place was empty, he threw his body against the door until it gave way. He swept the long counter clear of debris, which included an old cash register at odds with the office’s modern decor. Paris and Addison lifted the unconscious and feverish Rebecca onto the counter.
“What do you need from me?” Franklin asked as he placed the small first aid kit on the counter.
“I don’t know yet,” Gunilla said. “The priority is to get that bullet out and stop the bleeding. After that, I need to close the wound and give her blood, but I don’t know what blood type she is.”
“I’m O positive,” Travis said.
“That solves one problem but doesn’t help me get the bullet out or the blood in,” Gunilla said.
“Come with me,” Franklin said to Travis. In the hall, Franklin pointed to the left. “You check those rooms for anything we can use; I’ll check these. Look for the first aid kit.”
“How do you know they’ll have one?” Travis asked.
“Because federal law requires every business to have one,” Franklin said. He found the first aid kit on the wall of a small kitchen where the attendant could eat lunch without leaving.
“I got it,” Franklin yelled. After a quick inspection of the contents, Franklin ripped the box from the wall. There was even a snake bite kit inside. Checking the refrigerator, he found a half case of water. Travis came into the room, and Franklin ordered him to grab the water.
“I can make this work,” Gunilla said as she tore open a pair of latex gloves.
“I found a flashlight, bolt cutters, and a toolbox,” Travis said. But I didn’t see anything that might help.”
“I can use the flashlight,” Gunilla said.
“The bolt cutters are huge,” Addison said. “What are you planning to do with them, cut her leg off?”
“What?” Rebecca said, deciding at that moment to come awake. “You’re going to cut my leg off?” She sounded panicked and tried to look at her leg. “Is it that bad?”
“Shh,” Paris said, putting a hand on the girl’s forehead. “No one is cutting off your leg.”
“We’re in a storage area,” Travis said, coming over to stand next to Rebecca. He looked over to Franklin. “I’m guessing there are over a hundred storage units. There’s bound to be something we can use.”
“Good thinking,” Franklin said, taking the cutters.
“Addison and I will go check things out,” Franklin said. “You stay here and guard the ladies.”
“Look for jars or some other small containers . . . and a syringe,” Gunilla said.
“There’s a kitchen area in the back,” Franklin said. “There might be some jars back there, but I’ll keep an eye out.”
“Hold her down,” Gunilla ordered as she jabbed the tweezers in the wound trying to locate the bullet. Rebecca screamed and then screamed louder before she passed out.
Paris relaxed.
“Keep hold of her,” Gunilla said. “She could wake up at any moment. If she thrashes around, I could nick her artery, and she’ll bleed out.” Paris tightened her grip.
“Have you done this before? Paris asked.
“No, but I watched a video once,” Gunilla said as she looked up and smiled. Paris didn’t know if she was kidding and, seeing the look of horror on Travis’s face, decided not to ask.
“Travis, I need your help,” Gunilla said.
“He told me to keep watch,” Travis protested.
“You can go back to keeping watch in a minute,” Gunilla said, sounding irritated. “Right now, I need you to aim the flashlight into her wound.”
Rebecca opened her eyes as Gunilla pressed around the wound, trying to feel for the bullet. Rebecca moaned in pain. “Honey, I don’t know where the bullet is, so I will have to probe again. I’m really sorry, but it’s going to hurt.” Tears streamed down Rebecca’s face. Gunilla put her bloody hand on the girl’s forehead and leaned close. “I know, baby. I know. I’m going to need you to hold as still as possible. Let me know when you’re ready.”
Rebecca sucked in a large breath, let it out slowly and then nodded. Gunilla jabbed the plastic tweezers back in the wound, and Rebecca screamed. After the second scream, she collapsed again.
“Tempest,” Gunilla said without looking up, “pour water on the wound.” Tempest did as ordered. “There it is. I found it. It’s up against the bone. More water, please. Move the flashlight a little to the left.”
**********
In less than half an hour, Franklin had opened more than a dozen storage units with almost no surprises. He found used tires, tools, shelving, crutches, bikes, Christmas decorations, beds, lamps, office supplies, and an aquarium. The only surprise was the coffin.
“Why is there a coffin in here?” Addison asked.
“Honestly, I’m not sure I want to know,” Franklin said.
“Maybe there’s gold inside.”
“Maybe there’s a dead body,” Franklin countered. “Feel free to check.” He opened the next one and found a unit full of household furniture. Wading inside, he spotted an old sewing machine sitting atop an old sewing cabinet, the kind where the sewing machine could be lifted or lowered through the middle of the wooden table. Inside the drawers, he found a spool of green thread and several loose needles.
“Take these to Gunilla,” he said, handing his find over to Addison. As she ran off, Franklin cut the lock off the next unit and discovered footballs, basketballs and weightlifting equipment still in their boxes. It was almost as if they used the storage unit to house excess sporting inventory. Addison ran back still holding the needle and thread, looking pale.
“What’s the matter?” Franklin asked.
“A car just pulled up with two men inside.” Picking up his rifle, Franklin ran off toward the office. Peeking around the corner, he noticed one of the two strangers sneaking up to the door and peering in. The man motioned that there were people inside and how many. Both men made their way back to the car. Franklin stepped from around the corner, took quick aim, and fired. The man closest to the car crumpled to the ground. The other stranger screamed in terror, dropped his rifle, and ran. Franklin fired but missed. Knowing he couldn’t let the man escape, he followed him across the street and into the woods.