His focus no longer on whether the vaccine was okay, his injuries forced themselves back to the forefront, screaming for attention.
He knew he had to get his shoulder back in place, otherwise the pain would render him useless. He tentatively pushed at it with his right hand. The pain intensified, but the bone barely moved from its unnatural position.
This wasn’t something he could do with his hand. The angle wasn’t right, so he wouldn’t be able to generate enough strength. But pushing was the logical thing to do.
Once more, he worked his way back onto his feet, and staggered over to the nearest tree. Gingerly, he placed his dislocated shoulder against it.
“Don’t think,” he said out loud. “Just push.”
He took a breath, cleared his mind as best he could, then shoved.
He didn’t realize he’d screamed, nor did he feel it when he hit the ground after he passed out from the spike of pain as his joint slipped back into place.
IT WAS LIKE Kusum was a stranger in her own country.
The half-deserted streets were unsettling, of course, but it was the people she did see that made her feel this way. Most were in other cars, and while those who usually drove in Mumbai were often creative in the ways they weaved around each other, now even those methods seemed tame.
She and her family had seen over a dozen accidents, nearly half of which happened not far in front of them. They had been rear-ended twice, but neither her father nor the people who had hit them even considered stopping.
It was as if India had gone insane.
The spray carrying the deadly disease was also a problem. At first, the men with the tanks on their backs seemed to be everywhere, swarming the city like the mosquitoes they were supposedly there to kill. But it was clear that some were deserting their jobs when they noticed the city around them behaving unusually. Still, a large number of the men continued their task, no doubt unwilling to do anything that might jeopardize the much-needed money they were promised. They blocked her family’s route so many times, Kusum began to wonder if it would be possible to avoid the virus’s path.
When her father drove them through West Mumbai into Thane, they had no choice but to stop. Traffic was jammed in front of them, perhaps thirty or forty cars deep. Though they could not see the exact cause, they could see a column of black smoke rising above the road.
Kusum’s father turned his head to look out the back window. “Out of the way,” he commanded. “I can’t see.”
The four in the backseat leaned to the sides as he put the taxi into reverse. The car began to move backward, then suddenly stopped.
“Move, move!” he yelled. This time, his words were intended not for those inside the cab, but for the cars Kusum could see arriving behind them. He waved his arm back and forth. “Clear the way!”
But the cars paid no attention. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. As soon as the new arrivals pulled to a stop, more came behind them, blocking them in, too.
Kusum’s father cursed and shut off the engine. “We walk,” he said.
They grabbed their bags and piled out of the car.
“Stay close,” he told everyone, and started walking toward the smoke.
“There is a problem up there,” his wife said. “Maybe we should go another way.”
“That’s the way we need to go,” he replied without turning around.
Most of the people caught in the jam were heading away from the fire. They pushed and shoved past Kusum’s family, not caring if they hurt anyone. But soon, Kusum and her group were past the bulk of the crowd and were able to pick up their speed.
The cause for the stoppage turned out to be four cars piled into each other, blocking the road. One car had flipped on its side, while the others were all twisted and tangled against each other. That wasn’t the worst of it, though. There were bodies, some still in the cars, and a few on the road. All were bloodied and torn and unmoving.
Though it had been at least ten or fifteen minutes since the accident occurred, there were no police, no ambulances, no emergency personnel at all.
“Don’t look,” Kusum’s mother said, putting a hand over young Panna’s eyes.
Kusum did the same for Darshan.
“I want to see,” her cousin said.
“No,” Kusum told him. “You don’t need to see this.”
“I’ve seen dead bodies on TV.”
“This is not TV.”
Her father led them around the edge farthest from the car that was still on fire. That’s when Kusum heard it—a moan, long and painful, coming from the sedan on its side.
“Keep moving,” her father said.
Kusum looked at her sister. “Take Darshan.”
Jabala kept walking as if she hadn’t heard her.
Kusum grabbed her sister’s arm. “Hold on to Darshan. Make sure he can’t see anything.”
As if in slow motion, Jabala finally looked over. Kusum could see how scared she was.
“Jabala, it will be okay, but I need you to watch him. Can you do that?”
Her sister blinked, her eyes focusing on the boy. “Yes,” she said. “I…I can.”
Kusum pushed Darshan over to her, and headed for the wreckage.
“What are you doing?” her father called out.
“Someone’s hurt,” she yelled back.
“We don’t have time! We need to keep moving!”
She wanted to shout back, “We need to help if we can,” but she knew she would just be wasting her breath. She ignored him and continued on.
The moan was definitely coming from the sedan. She looked through the back window but could see nothing, so she ran around and looked through the front.
There was a woman slumped against the door that was pressed against the ground, blood pasted across her forehead. Kusum could see no movement, and thought it unlikely she was the one making the noise.
“Hello?” she called out. “Is someone in there? Are you hurt?”
The moan started up again, this time becoming a word. “Help.”
It had to be coming from the backseat.
Frowning, Kusum looked around. She thought if she was careful, she should be able to climb on top of the closest wrecked car, and look into the back of the sedan through the passenger window facing the sky.
As she mounted the other car’s hood, her father yelled, “Kusum, get down from there right now!”
“There’s someone who needs help,” she said.
“I don’t care.”
“I do!” The words slipped out of her mouth before she even realized it. Talking back to her father was something she had never done until today. But running for her life was something she had never done, either. Maybe she had gone just as crazy as the rest of the country, but there was no way she could just ignore someone in need.
She half crawled onto the top of the car, and moved over to the edge where it had slammed against the perpendicular sedan. Getting onto her toes, she leaned over the sedan’s roof and looked in through the half rolled-down, rear passenger window.
At first, all she saw was a jumble of cloth and bags and baskets. Then she realized that within the chaos was an old woman.
“I’m here,” Kusum said. “How badly are you hurt?”
The old woman’s head turned, and her eyes flicked open. “Help,” she said, her voice weak. “Nipa.”
Is that her, or the woman up front? Kusum wondered.
“Don’t move. I’ll come down and help you.” Though how she would do that, Kusum wasn’t sure yet.
“Nipa,” the woman said again. “Help Nipa.”
So it was the name of the woman in front. Kusum had no way of knowing for certain, but she had a strong feeling the other woman was dead.
“Let me help you first,” she said. “Then I will do what I can for…Nipa.”
“No. Nipa first.”
With great effort, the old woman pushed out of the way some of the items that had fallen around her.
Kusum s
tared down in surprise. Nipa was not the driver, either. She was a child, no more than a year old, tucked against the old woman’s side. The baby was awake and looked scared to death.
Kusum looked over to where the others had stopped to watch.
“Get down! Now!” her father yelled. “You’re putting the rest of us in danger.”
“I need help,” she said. “There’s a baby here.”
“What?” her mother said, stepping out from the group. Without waiting for a response, she turned back to the others. “Jabala, come with me.”
“But Darshan,” Jabala said.
“Leave him. Darshan, Panna, you stay with masi.”
The two children nodded.
As Kusum’s mother and sister passed her father, he said, “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To help,” her mother said. “And you’re coming, too.”
Knowing they were on the way, Kusum climbed onto the side of the sedan, reached through the half-open window, and found the handle. Quickly, she rolled the glass the rest of the way down.
The opening was now more than large enough for her to fit through. The trick now was to do it without dropping onto the old woman and the baby. She slipped her legs in first, and eased herself down until only her shoulders and head were not inside the car. She stretched out her foot, caught the top of the front seat, and used it to guide her all the way down.
Kneeling, she found herself closer to the woman behind the wheel than the older one in back. Not really wanting to, but knowing it had to be done, she put her fingers against the driver’s neck. She wasn’t really sure about the right spot to check for a pulse, so when she didn’t feel one, she moved her fingers around, but still found nothing. She looked at the woman’s chest. It wasn’t moving. If the driver was still alive, it was by the thinnest of threads, and there was nothing Kusum could do for her.
As she moved over into the back part of the car, the child, Nipa, looked up at her and tightened her grip on the old woman.
“It’s okay,” Kusum said. “I’m here to help you.”
“Save her,” the old woman whispered. “Please.”
“I will save both of you.”
The woman tried to smile, but ended up coughing. This caused Nipa to start crying.
“It’s okay,” Kusum said, touching the girl’s cheek. “Everything will be fine.”
“Nipa first,” the woman managed to say between coughs. She moved like she wanted to hand the girl to Kusum, but she had little strength.
Kusum reached out and put her hands under the baby’s arms. As she started to lift the girl away, Nipa panicked and tried to grab the old woman again.
“Don’t worry,” Kusum said, pulling the girl to her. “I won’t hurt you.”
She hugged the baby to her chest, but Nipa turned her head so she could look at the old woman and continued to cry.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Kusum said over and over.
After several seconds, she heard a noise above, and her father’s head appeared in the open window.
“Hand her up,” he said, once he’d taken a look at the situation.
Kusum stood as best she could and raised the girl toward his outstretched hands. Nipa screamed in protest.
“She’s just scared,” Kusum said.
“Of course she’s scared,” her father replied as he grabbed hold of the baby. “I raised two girls, remember? I have seen scared before.”
As he pulled Nipa out of the car, Kusum knelt back down next to the old woman. “Your turn,” she said.
The old woman didn’t move.
“Hey. Come on. Time to get you out of here.”
No response.
Worried, Kusum put her fingers on the woman’s neck. This time she did feel a pulse, though it wasn’t strong. She put a hand on the woman’s chest to check her breathing, and instantly pulled it up again, looking at her palm. Blood covered the pad at the base of her thumb. She pulled back the cloth that had fallen over the woman’s midsection, and stifled a cry.
The tip of a piece of metal was sticking up right below the woman’s ribs. Blood was soaked into the clothes around the wound.
“Kusum,” her father said.
She looked up.
“There is nothing we can do for her. We can’t move her and we can’t stay.”
“Take care…of Nipa,” the old woman whispered. “I will stay here with my…daughter.”
Kusum fought back the tears of frustration that had suddenly gathered in her eyes, knowing her father was right.
Carefully, she covered the wound back up, and wiped her palm on the cloth.
“Rest now,” she said. “I will take care of Nipa.”
Though the woman’s eyes were closed, she seemed to relax.
“Come,” her father said. “Let me help you up.”
With a nod, she stood and took his hands.
DARKNESS FELL BEFORE Kusum and her family reached the edge of the city, which meant they were still a very long way from where they were supposed to meet Sanjay.
They had checked every abandoned vehicle they passed, but soon discovered each had been left behind for a reason. As for traffic, it had dwindled to a trickle, and the cars they did see never once slowed as they passed Kusum’s family walking along the side of the road. Unless they found another ride soon, there was no way they would reach Sanjay that evening.
“You want me to take her?” Kusum’s mom asked.
Kusum held the sleeping Nipa against her chest, the girl’s head lying on her shoulder. They had barely restarted their journey when Nipa insisted that Kusum carry her. The girl then clung to her like she was afraid Kusum would disappear at any second, until she finally passed out.
“I’m okay,” Kusum said.
In truth, she liked holding the girl. She had promised to keep Nipa safe, so that’s what she would do until they could reunite her with her family.
That task would not be easy. She’d realized not long after they left the accident that she should have grabbed the old woman’s—and perhaps the driver’s—identification. That way she would have had information about Nipa’s family. But by the time she’d thought of it, they were too far away.
Once everything is back to normal, I’ll go to the police and tell them where the accident occurred. Surely, they’ll have information about who was involved.
The good thing was that Nipa appeared to have suffered only a few scratches and bruises in the accident. How the incident would affect her mind, only time would tell. Of course, given the situation they were all going through, the girl wouldn’t be the only one mentally bruised.
“They’re still there,” Jabala whispered a few minutes later.
Kusum glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, the three figures that Jabala had first noticed over an hour ago were passing beneath several lights about one hundred and fifty meters behind them. At first Kusum had dismissed them as just being others trying to get away from the city, but the distance they kept never changed, even after Kusum’s family stopped for a few minutes to rest.
“Who do you think they are?” Jabala asked.
“I don’t know.”
The shortest of the trio was probably a child, but the distance made it hard to tell whether they were men or women, let alone what age they were. Really, the only important question was, were they trouble or not?
“Do you think you can take Nipa without waking her?”
Jabala eyed her suspiciously. “Why? What are you going to do?”
Kusum nodded toward the people following them. “Find out who they are.”
“You could get hurt. You don’t—”
“They won’t see me. Don’t worry, okay? Here, take her.” Kusum gingerly lifted Nipa from her shoulder and put her in Jabala’s arms.
“What’s going on?” their father asked, glancing back.
“I’m going to find out who those people are,” Kusum said.
“You are not.”
“I am. We
need to know.”
“You’re my daughter. You will stay with us.”
“Someone needs to check. If you had a son, you would let him do it. You have none. Who are you going to send? Darshan?” She waved at her young cousin, who was clutching tightly to Kusum’s mother. “I’m the only one.”
“I’ll do it.”
“No,” Kusum said. “You need to watch over the others. I will go.”
She could see the conflict in her father’s eyes. After a moment, he reached into the bag he was carrying and pulled out a sheath holding a four-inch knife. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “Don’t use it unless you have no choice. Be very careful.”
“I will.”
Before he could change his mind, she slipped between two closed roadside stands and into the brush behind them. Looking back, she could see her farther hesitating, wanting to follow her.
“Keep moving,” she said in a harsh whisper.
Reluctantly, he turned in the direction they’d been headed and said, “Come on, everyone. Let’s go.”
She watched them for a second to make sure her father didn’t change his mind, then found a good spot where she could see the whole road, and settled in. It wasn’t long before she heard the footsteps of those on the road behind them. One was walking faster than the others. The child, she thought, working twice as hard just to keep up.
Though she knew there was no way they’d see her, she crouched down a bit more. The sound of the steps increased until finally the trio came into view.
The smallest was definitely a child, a boy probably no more than Darshan’s age. What was surprising was that the other two were children also. Taller, yes, but their faces gave away their age. Kusum thought they couldn’t have been more than eleven or twelve. They were both girls, the taller of the two holding the hand of the boy.
She looked to see if any of them was carrying weapons, but the only things they had were their well-worn clothes and each other. Kusum considered what to do next, and decided on a course of action her father would have disapproved of.
The Project Eden Thrillers Box Set 1: Books 1 - 3 (Sick, Exit 9, & Pale Horse) Page 73