Radio Nowhere
Page 15
“No- I mean, yes!” Louis said quickly.
“Is he or ain’t he?” The boy asked, moving back as Hank took another step forward.
“Well, technically I’m watching him for a friend but I don’t know if that friend is alive or not and if she is I don’t know where she is so I guess he’s mine for now,” Louis sputtered.
“Call him off,” the girl said as Hank moved closer.
Louis licked his dry lips and whistled to the dog, clapping his hands. “Come here, Hank. Here, Hankie-Hankie, let’s leave these nice people alone.” Hank turned and walked back to Louis, who forced a smile. “Well, we’ll just be on our way-”
“Wait,” Gunner said quietly to the girl. “What if he’s got something we want?”
The girl looked at Louis. “Hey! You got any supplies?”
Louis spoke quickly. “No. I haven’t had a chance to get any.” He swallowed hard, trying to keep from looking at the tall grass where his backpack was stashed.
The girl turned her back to Louis, revealing a sawed-off shotgun strapped to her back. She stuffed the other rabbit’s leg into her belt and put her hands on her hips. “He said he don’t.”
“I know that, Sissa! I got ears,” the boy hissed, giving her a pointed look. He glanced back at Louis. “What if he’s lying?” They looked at one another for a moment, then simultaneously turned their heads toward Louis. Sissa swung the shotgun from behind her as Gunner raised his rifle back to Louis. Louis stiffened and shot his hands back up, heart pounding in his ears.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Happy birthday, dear Abigail, happy birthday to you!” Adam leaned his daughter close to the two candles and helped her blow them out. The girl smiled widely, her pearly baby teeth on full display. Her light brown eyes sparkled as she looked around, searching for someone. She wriggled out of her dad’s lap and toddled off, almost bumping into her mother; Marianne smiled down at her daughter and went to cut the cake into pieces.
Abby stopped in front of Ira and held her chubby arms up toward him. “Up, Papaw, up!”
Ira smiled down at the girl and scooped her up, careful not to wrinkle her yellow party dress. “Why hello there, Little Lady,” he crooned, setting her on his knee. “Look how big you are now! You’re almost a grownup.”
Marianne looked up from cutting the cake and said with a smile, “She’ll be driving before you know it!”
Ira laughed and shook his head. “You’ll have to help her with that one, I’ve never been good at teaching kids how to drive.”
“Oh, I remember,” Marianne replied, setting a piece of cake on the table next to her father, “That was the one skill Mama taught us better than you, and she never let us forget it.” She laughed, throwing her head back along with Ira.
Abby laughed with them, unaware of what she was laughing at, and clapped her hands. She reached up to pat her grandfather’s beard with her tiny hands. “Love Papaw.”
“And Papaw loves you too,” Ira beamed, hugging her to him.
Suddenly, the girl disappeared from his arms and the chair dissolved, dropping him on the ground with a thud. He sat up slowly, surprised to find himself in the middle of a jungle instead of at his family’s home as he was moments prior. Ira’s confusion turned to horror as he heard Abby scream from nearby; he scrambled to his feet and ran toward the sound, tearing through the thickets and jumping over ditches. He crested a small hill and tripped, sprawling down it and rolling to a stop in a puddle.
“Help me, please,” a young man’s voice choked out nearby, and Ira rolled over to find himself under a mangrove tree. Adrenaline and the helmet strap around his neck made it difficult to breathe as he searched for the voice. An explosion boomed up ahead, and he ducked down, clutching his medical bag to his chest. Ira crawled forward until he found the man, hidden under some elephant grass. Ira raised up onto his knees to assess the man’s injuries, keeping his face blank as his eyes swept over the bloodied spots leaking from his flak jacket.
“They fragged me, Doc,” the injured man coughed out, his face contorting in pain. He clawed at the flak jacket. “I thought these was s’pposed to keep that shit out.”
Ira shushed the man and ripped the man’s vest open. You got fragged alright, Ira thought as he set to work, but they shot you, too.
“Am I gonna die?” The man’s blue eyes were wrought with fear as a tear leaked out, streaking the dirt caked on his face. This was no man; this was a scared boy who shouldn’t be here. He grimaced as Ira pressed on the wound, biting his lip almost in two to keep from crying out. Gunfire rang out, and Ira dropped over the boy as the ftt-ftt of bullets whizzing past assaulted his ears. When he pulled back, his face contorted in horror as he looked into the now familiar brown eyes.
“Dad,” Marcus begged, “Help me, please.” Ira fell backwards, away from his son’s bloodied tan DCU fatigues.
“Marcus, no,” Ira managed, looking into his terrified face. Suddenly, Marcus was twelve years old again, playing dress-up in his dad’s combat boots.
“Daddy, I’m scared,” the boy said with a sob, his too-big tan helmet sitting crooked on his matted head.
Ira scooped him up, sitting on the wet jungle floor as indistinguishable voices sounded in the distance. “I know you are, Son, I know.” Ira’s voice cracked.
“Why won’t you help me?”
“I wish I could, Son,” Ira’s vision blurred as he rocked back and forth, Marcus’ small frame going limp in his arms.
Suddenly, the boy disappeared and Ira was on his feet in a different part of the jungle. Abby’s screams sounded again, echoing all around him and making him spin frantically to try and discern the source.
“Go, go!” A fellow soldier barreled past Ira, almost knocking him to the ground. Ira pulled his pistol and ran. He jumped over a ravine and tore through the underbrush, ducking and weaving as gunfire exploded from somewhere nearby. Wish the LT had let me keep that rifle, he thought. “Non-combatant” my ass.
An explosion knocked him off his feet, throwing him to the side into a tree. He crumpled to the ground as a blinding pain surged through his upper leg, hip, and side. Abigail screamed again, and Ira clawed toward the sound, crying out in agony as the shrapnel shifted in his flesh. The ground suddenly raised and he began to slide backwards. He looked over his shoulder and cried out again, this time in terror as he felt himself being sucked into a swirling black hole that opened up in the jungle floor. He let out one final scream as the hole swallowed him, enveloping him in darkness.
Ira sat up, drenched in sweat. His heart pounded nearly out of his chest as he spun around in the darkness, the bedsheets tangling on his legs. His hip burned, and he reached out to fumble for the flashlight on his bedside table. Switching it on, he yanked open the drawer and pulled out his pain medicine; he dry-swallowed two, not bothering with water. He glared angrily at his bad leg and sat up further in the bed.
“If you’re going to keep doing this to me,” he said aloud, voice shaking, “Then I’m just not going to sleep.”
He threw the covers off himself and swung his legs over the side of the bed, grimacing as fire shot through his hip down his leg. Seizing his cane, he gingerly pushed himself to his feet, whimpering uncontrollably at the pain. “Don’t be a child!” He yelled to the darkness, gritting his teeth and slamming his cane into the ground. He grabbed his flashlight and slowly moved for the door.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Eric’s hand shook as he sipped the apple juice, spilling some down his chin. He wiped it off and set the glass down on the tiny nurse’s desk. The small clinic wasn’t much to look at, but it had burn ointment and pamphlets on smoke inhalation, which was good enough. He cleared his throat and took another drink to try and stabilize his blood sugar. As he put the glass down, his flashlight fell over and rolled toward the edge of the counter. He grabbed it and propped it up against a framed picture on the desk of a man and dog. Gina went into another coughing fit, and he shakily stood to hobble over to her. She was
doubled over in a chair, grasping an oxygen mask in one hand and clutching the armrest with the other as the hacking wracked her body. She slowly sat back up, singed hair falling over her right eye. She looked up at Eric, dark circles and the ointment-covered burns punctuating her face. Her left eyebrow was virtually gone and the largest burn extended past her swollen eye, almost to her chin. Welts where the branch hit her face stood out in sharp relief.
“Shaky?” She wheezed, putting the mask back on.
“A bit,” he replied, clearing his throat. “But I think I’m leveling out now. How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” she said, her voice muffled by the mask. She grimaced slightly as she tried to suppress a cough. She reached up and gently moved her hair out of her face. The welts lined up for a moment. Just looking at the raw skin made Eric wince, but she pretended not to notice.
“Your burns are looking better,” he offered. “And the swelling has gone down on your eye considerably since yesterday.” Gina didn’t reply. Eric looked at the small tube of antibiotic ointment resting at her feet. “Are we out of burn cream?” Gina nodded affirmative.
“I’ll go see what I can find,” Eric said, pivoting slowly. Stiffly, he picked up his flashlight.
“No rush,” Gina replied, the last word ending abruptly as another coughing fit overtook her.
Eric left the room and soon found the supply closet. He rummaged through its contents until he found a basket of various antibiotic and burn ointments. He grabbed the basket and headed back, his stomach growling loudly. Never a break… Sighing to no one in particular, he headed toward the lobby to raid the vending machine.
As he opened the door to the lobby, he stopped abruptly. Standing in the midst of machine's shattered glass and flanked by candy wrappers, was a small figure with matted hair. The child turned around and stared at Eric with wild yellow eyes, chocolate smeared across its face and down the front of its filthy tan t-shirt. Eric couldn't tell if the child was a boy or a girl, but he cared less about its gender and more about the sharp garden trowel it clutched in one hand. On the floor beside the child's dirty, sandaled feet was a hammer.
"Hello," Eric said softly, trying to be calm and soothing. The child said nothing, bloodshot eyes unblinking. "I'm Eric, what's your name?" No response. "Are you hungry?" Eric took a small step forward as he spoke. The door's stopper suddenly fell down, catching Eric's eye. The child shrieked suddenly and flew at him, wielding the trowel like a weapon. Eric cried out and jumped behind a row of plastic chairs, ducking as the child swung at him. "Stop! Hey!" Eric yelled, picking up a chair and brandishing it like a lion tamer. "Calm down!" The child shrieked again and dove under the chair and stabbed at Eric's legs; Eric jumped back again with a yelp, slamming the chair down onto the child and knocking it onto its stomach. Eric vaulted over the chair as the child screamed and thrashed, and bolted back through the doorway. The screams echoed down the hall as Eric ran; he slipped on the tile as he rounded the corner to where the nurse's station was. He looked over his shoulder just as Gina appeared in the doorway. He collided with her shoulder and fell to the floor, the wind leaving his lungs with a whoosh.
"What-" Gina began, stumbling back slightly. The shrieks of the feral child suddenly amplified, and Gina looked up to see it barreling down the hall toward them. Fear washed over her, and she grabbed Eric's wrists and dragged him into an open storage room. She slammed the door behind them, muffling the shrieks. She locked and leaned against the door as the child hit the door over and over with its trowel. Gina began to cough harshly and Eric slapped the ground, trying desperately to force oxygen into his lungs. She leaned over and hooked her fingers into his belt loops, jerking upwards. Eric gasped, huffing and hacking as the air rushed into him.
"What was that?" Gina asked incredulously. "What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything," Eric gasped, sitting up and putting his back against the wall. Outside the slaps and screams of the child continued with ferocity. The door handle rattled, and Gina grabbed it and pulled with all of her might to keep it closed.
"Go away!" Gina wheezed. The banging against the door stopped, and the child let out a long, loud scream, more terrifying than any of the others combined. Everything went silent and Gina and Eric listened intently.
Eric got to his feet and moved closer to the door. "Is it gone?"
Gina didn't respond. She unlocked the door, and slowly, gently eased it open. The trowel suddenly appeared through the doorway almost cutting Gina's face. Gina pulled the door, catching the child’s fingers as she tried to shut it. The child screamed and dropped the trowel. Gina locked the door once more, turning to face Eric.
"We need a plan." Gina looked around the room and spotted a box of trash bags. "Grab one of those.”
Gina kicked to the trowel out-of-the-way and grabbed the door handle. "Ready?" She whispered, adjusting her grip on the mop and bucket. Eric nodded silently, holding the triple-strength hazmat trash bag open wide. "Okay. Here we go." Gina turn the lock slowly, to minimize sound. When the knob was unlocked, she grasped it firmly and threw the door open wide. The hallway was empty. The hair on the back of Gina's neck stood up as she scanned the darkened room. Eric stepped out as well, brandishing the bag like a shield. Gina gripped the bucket tightly in one hand and pointed the mop out in front of her. Suddenly, a loud shriek sounded from down the hall. The feral child ran at them, barely giving Gina enough time to spin and use the mop to keep her at bay. The child jabbed a hammer at them, and Gina swung the bucket around; the bucket collided with the child's head. "Now!" Gina cried. Eric leapt forward clumsily, throwing the bag over its head and shoulders. He pulled the bag down over its elbows and tied the drawstring tightly around the thrashing child. Gina grabbed the hammer and wrenched it from the child’s grip. The child reached up and tried to rip the bag from its face, wildly thrashing on the ground. Gina was kicked twice in the stomach as she tried to seize the child’s feet to keep it from getting hurt. The child flipped onto its stomach to try and crawl away. Gina held its feet firm and Eric grabbed the shoulders as well as he could. The pair drug the child into the nearest examination room and slammed the door shut.
Eric grabbed the doorknob and pulled it tightly, giving Gina enough time to wedge the broom up into the door handle and on either side of the door frame to hold it shut. Screams and a lot of bumping around echoed from inside the room as Gina and Eric caught their breath.
"What do we do now?" Eric breathed. "We can't just leave that kid in here." Gina was silent. "I mean… Right?" Eric studied Gina closely as she panted. Gina took a step back from the door, then another. She turned on her heel and headed back for the nurse’s station, coughing. She sat down hard and one of the rolling chairs behind the desk. Eric followed, watching intently as she gathered supplies back into her duffel. "That’s a human being," Eric stated bluntly. Gina remained silent, putting the oxygen mask back over her face and turning the valve to on. She coughed some more intermittently, trying to get her breath back. "Gina," Eric began. “What are we-”
"Nothing," came the girls muffled reply. "Too dangerous."
"We can't just leave," Eric repeated incredulously. Gina suddenly removed the mask from her face and looked at Eric.
"What do you want me to say? It’s crazy. It tried to kill us."
"So you want us to just leave that kid trapped?"
"I don't think there's anything else that we can do."
"They’ll starve to death."
Gina remained silent, putting the mask over her nose and mouth again. The feral child's shrieks punctuated the silence.
"If we let it out," Gina said slowly, taking the mask from her face once more. "It could attack someone else. If there is anyone else out there."
"But if we leave them locked up, we will be murderers."
"If we let it out, we can't outrun it. Not in our conditions." Gina turned off the oxygen tank and put it into her duffel bag. "It’s just too fast."
"So what do you want to do?"
Gina and Eric hiked up the side of a mountain, the air tense and the ground unsteady. Gina fixed her eyes on the trail ahead, but noticed Eric looking nervously at her out of the corner of her eye.
"Gina…”
"I don’t want to talk about it." Gina snapped.
"Okay..." Eric wiped his brow and stared at his hands. “Um…”
"What?" A hint of annoyance could be heard in her voice. Gina's eyes were weary, and her joints ached painfully. Just get me out of here... She thought to herself.
"We should probably find a place to sleep for the night tonight don't you think?"
Gina remained silent.
"It's just it's getting late,” Eric continued, “And we don't want to be stranded out here with nowhere to go and-"
Up in the distance Gina spotted an abandoned carnival. "There," she said pointing to carnival grounds. "I want to go there."
"Oh, okay," Eric said, standing up straighter. " They probably have a generator there, and we can salvage it and take it with us back home, wherever that is."
Gina's chest tightened. Home. The word made her queasy. "Yeah, okay,” she responded unenthusiastically.
"Gina? Are you…are you alright?"
"Yeah, let's just keep moving."