Ω
Still trying to save Colton, Lucy looked up when she heard Dean. Concern and relief washed over her face.
Jazmine helped him lower Paul to the floor. “He’s been shot. I’m not sure where or how bad it is, but he’s bleeding quite a bit.”
“Let me look. I’m a field medic.” Jazmine nudged him gently aside.
Dean checked the crowd. For the moment, their attention remained on the windows. Once the UAVs had passed, they’d have questions, lots of them.
He turned to Lucy. She shook her head. “He’s lost too much blood. One bullet punctured a lung.”
Jason Farmer’s wife—Meg—was standing looking at them. Dean walked over to her, touched the woman’s arm. “Can you assist Lucy?”
“Yes.” She swallowed, crossed her arms and hugged them to herself. “I can try.”
“There’s a medic kit inside the supply room, when you first walk in. First shelf on the right.”
Meg nodded, took a few halting steps, then ran to the stock room.
Dean strode to the middle of the room, where most of the customers stood huddled in groups of twos and threes. Beyond the windows, the glow from the UAVs’ lights had begun to penetrate the darkness in the streets.
He took a deep breath and plunged. “There’s no one in the planes. They’re robotics containing poisonous gas. Everyone move toward the back, but give Lucy and Jazmine room to work. Women and children go to the stock room. Men with weapons, stay in this room, but away from the windows. Sally, make sure the air conditioner is off.”
Everyone looked stunned, then Jason Farmer stepped forward, his hand at the back of his waistband. “Why should we believe you? Why should we do what you say?”
“Because it’s my bar, and I believe him.” Sally appeared at Dean’s side, shotgun at the ready.
Dean pushed the shotgun down. “Not good enough, Sally. Farmer’s right. You all better start questioning who you trust.”
Silence filled the room as everyone pressed closer.
“Are you saying we can’t trust each other?” Jason asked.
“I’m telling you to be careful. Because you’ve known someone a while doesn’t mean you know them, and because someone’s new in town doesn’t mean you can’t trust them.”
“Why’d you shoot Emily?” Jason asked.
“We shot Emily because she shot Colton.”
“I don’t believe you,” Nadine said. “Emily wouldn’t—”
“It’s true.” John Rich’s voice rose above the rumbling. “I was about to go outside and talk to Colton. I had a clear view of the end of the boardwalk. Emily fired first.”
“Who are you then?” Jason stepped closer. “Who are you really?”
“Lucy, Jaz, and I work for the government. We came here to stop this, and we will stop it. But we need your help.”
Jason shook his head, unconvinced. Then the street outside of E.T.’s lit up like noon. A gasp rumbled through the room as the planes bathed Main in an unnatural light.
It pierced through the bar’s front windows, and people fell back, pushed against one another to avoid its reach.
The planes flew slowly.
Silently.
Deliberately.
The darkness left in their wake offered no comfort. Everyone began talking at once, but no one questioned Dean’s instructions. They gave him a wide berth as women and children stumbled toward the stock room. Men checked their weapons. Several people tried their cell phones, shaking their head in disbelief.
Dean motioned John and Jason over.
“Check every room. Jason, take the south side. John, the north. If you see an open window, don’t go inside the room. Shut the door. Block the air flow.” He reached over the counter and grabbed a handful of towels. “Take these.”
“One more thing.” Dean grabbed two bundled sets of silverware. Shaking out the silver, he handed one linen napkin to each man. “Use these like face masks. I won’t lie; they might not be enough, but they’re better than nothing.”
The men left. He glanced up as Sally came in.
“A/C is off,” she said. She watched him checking his clip. “Bartender, huh?”
Dean tried to smile. It hurt, like new skin stretching around a recently-closed wound.
“Are these people safe in here?” Sally growled, clearly mad enough to kick some alien ass.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Safer inside than out.”
“They’ll be back?”
Dean nodded.
“Probably throughout most of the night. Try and catch anyone they missed.”
“We need to get a doctor for Paul and Colton.”
“Actually, we have one.” Dean pointed at Lucy.
Sally did a double take when she saw Lucy’s hands inside Colton’s chest wound. Unconsciously, she reached for her pack of cigarettes and probably would have lit one up if Dean hadn’t stopped her with a look.
Jazmine worked on Paul.
Meg monitored Colton’s vitals.
From the women’s expressions, Dean didn’t have to be a doctor to realize Colton’s situation was far worse than Paul’s.
He knelt by Colton, watching Lucy work. “What can I do?”
“I stashed a surgical kit in the back of the storeroom.”
“Why’d you do that, Luce?”
“The vision, the one I had the first day we came.” A hardness came into her eyes. “Which doesn’t mean I’m going to let them die. The kit is taped to the southeast corner of the freezer wall, two feet from the bottom.”
“I’ll get it.” Sally slipped through Bubba and Billy, who were keeping a distance but unable to look away from their dying friend.
Dean pulled on gloves the way Lucy had taught him. “I can barely feel his pulse,” Meg warned.
Sally returned with the surgical kit and knelt beside Colton.
“Glove up,” Dean instructed. “Like this.”
“Meg, put those masks on us.” Lucy nodded toward the kit. “Colton has a collapsed lung and massive blood loss. Let’s provide the most sterile environment we can.”
Meg nodded, moving quickly from Lucy to Dean and finally to Sally.
“The bullet grazed Paul’s side.” Jazmine reported. “The dressings have stopped the bleeding. His pressure is good.”
“Pulse?”
“Weak but steady. He’s still unconscious.”
“Check for evidence of a head trauma.” Lucy eyeballed her team. “Colton can’t get enough oxygen because the bullet punctured his right lung. I need to insert a tube into his left lung to equalize the pressure.”
Dean’s mind flashed back to the morning in Albuquerque when he wanted to send her back to Virginia. Colton would be dead if he had.
“Dean, you need to put your hands where mine are so he doesn’t bleed out. I haven’t been able to tie off the damaged artery yet. Pinch and hold.”
Dean looked into the brown eyes of the woman he loved. Then he placed his hands over hers—allowed her to put Colton’s life into his hands.
“You okay, Dreiser?”
He nodded once.
“Sally, alcohol first, then chlorhexidine, the blade, and the tube—in that order. Meg, monitor his vitals. Ready?”
Everyone nodded, and no one breathed.
“Alcohol.”
Colton didn’t twitch when the cold swab touched his skin.
“Chlorhexidine.”
Dean watched as Lucy wiped the skin again where she would make her incision. She worked without hesitation.
Light danced off the blade. Then, metal pierced skin. Dean was amazed the boy had so much blood left after all he’d spilled on the boardwalk. In the time it took the thought to cross his mind, Lucy had asked for and inserted the tube.
“Vitals are stabilizing,” Meg said.
“Don’t release the artery, Dean.” Lucy turned to Sally. “I want to tape around the tube first. Then, I need to sew up the right side.”
They worked quietly, efficiently, with
an economy of words and movement.
When Dean finally stood and stripped off his gloves, he felt as if he’d chased a perp across twelve city blocks.
John Rich shoved a cup of coffee in one hand and a clean shirt in the other. “You look like you could use both of these.”
“Yeah.” He shook his head, trying to shake out the image of the interior of Colton’s lung. The picture had been burned into his mind. He walked off in the direction of the men’s room, needing a moment, taking a minute, then two, to clear his thoughts.
Sally joined them as he returned from the men’s room.
Cleaning Paul’s blood off his skin had helped.
He picked up the lukewarm coffee Sally sat in front of him and downed it in one long pull.
“I should be angry with you, Dreiser. Telling me Lucy’s a college student, but—she looks like a college student. Guess she’s not.”
“No, she’s not.”
They watched Lucy move between Paul and Colton. Dean knew they’d been lucky tonight. Looking at the clock, he was shocked to see only an hour had passed since the shooting had begun. Ten o’clock—time for the evening news.
Jazmine joined them.
“How’s Paul?” Dean asked.
“Lucy says he’ll make it. But, between a possible concussion and blood loss, she said he might not wake up for another hour or so.”
“And Colton?” Jason Farmer asked. “Still iffy.”
Jazmine pulled out her cell and tried it again. Shaking her head, she put it back.
Dean leaned over the bar, picked up the landline, and shook his head. “It’s out, too.”
“Any idea what’s wrong with the cell phones?” Jason asked.
Jazmine waited for Dean. When he nodded, she answered Jason’s question.
“We can assume the communication towers are still standing since we haven’t heard an explosion. Whoever is doing this must have access to the control panels. They switched off service here. They want us isolated.”
“The outage could work to our advantage.” Dean sat down on a bar stool. “We can’t call out, but they can’t listen in, either.”
“What are you talking about?” Sally’s eyes narrowed.
“Nine-eleven legislation,” John Rich said.
Dean scanned the bar. “There must be fifty or sixty people here. I wouldn’t want to try and collect every cell phone. Usually someone holds out. Then, you have a mess on your hands.”
“You lost me,” Jason said.
“Cell phones are also listening devices. If they’re on, they can be monitored by government satellites.”
“Hang on. Stop. Time out.” Jason held his hands up in a T as if he were calling a time out on a ball field. “First, are you saying the bad guys have access to government satellites? Second, why would they want to listen in on us?”
Dean glanced over at Emily, steeled himself for what he needed to do next. “If the bad guys—as you so aptly call them—have the ability to turn off our phones, control the news, and get hold of a few UAVs, chances are they do have access to government satellites. Why would they want to listen in on us?” Dean shrugged. “To know what we’re up to.”
“You lost me,” Sally said. “I only got a cell phone this year, and I rarely get calls.”
“But most people leave their cell phones on all the time.” Jason rubbed his forehead. “If it isn’t open though—”
“Wrong. To speak to someone you hit the talk button—you request permission to connect to a cell tower. That can also be done remotely. Your service provider can turn on the microphone without your permission.”
Sally once again reached for her pack of smokes.
“It can be a good thing when a disgruntled worker shows up at his job with a rifle. He barricades himself inside without any real plan, just knows he’s angry.”
Jazmine nodded. “I worked with a Hostage Rescue Team. We had a similar situation twice. By manipulating the incoming signals to the cell tower, our techs were able to listen in to what was happening. We located the perp and were able to get everyone out safely, largely because we knew what was going on inside the building.”
The people around Dean looked stunned, but suddenly relieved they had no phone access. “I think by morning your phones will work again. They’re out tonight because the terrorists didn’t want anyone to interrupt their plans.”
“What are their plans, Dean?” John asked. “I know some, and I’ve guessed at more. But there’s someone here who I think knew everything.”
Dean nodded towards Emily. “Even dead, she can tell us something. The dead always give up their secrets.”
Grabbing a clean pair of gloves, he walked across the room to Emily’s body.
LUCY WATCHED DEAN WALK over to Emily. After pulling on gloves, he started sorting through her pockets. The act didn’t bother her; in fact, she wondered why he had waited so long. But the gentleness he displayed tore at her heart.
Lucy squatted down beside him. “Paul will make it. I’m not sure about Colton, but I’ve done all I can.”
Dean nodded, met her eyes, then continued turning out each pocket and feeling the lining of every seam. “Can you help me turn her? Slowly. She could be a kind of human booby-trap.”
“Is that why you’re handling her so gently? Because she would have just as soon shot you as Paul. In fact, she probably did aim at you.” Lucy’s anger filled her throat until it ached. She didn’t want to be kneeling over this body, didn’t want to be consumed with hate for this woman she had worked beside for over two weeks, but she was.
Dean stopped searching Emily’s pockets and rocked back on his heels. Lucy felt as if his gaze could see into her soul, and she wondered why it bothered her. The man had seen her cry, had seen her more terrified than she was now.
Why did she suddenly feel vulnerable?
Why did she feel ashamed?
Dean glanced around. Although plenty of people were watching, none stood close enough to hear.
“There’s no doubt Emily was involved, but I don’t see how she would have had the resources or the expertise to pull it off alone. More than likely someone saw a weakness—or an old hurt—and took advantage of it.”
Lucy considered what kind of past pain could drive a woman to sell out her friends, her town, even her country.
“She’s responsible for what part she had in this, and I’m glad you and Jazmine brought her down,” Dean said. “But she can’t hurt anyone now, unless it’s with a substance on her skin.”
Lucy felt the tears slip—tears she’d held since the first gunshot had rang out. She turned so Dean wouldn’t see, walked to the bar’s counter and found a new pair of latex gloves. Who would have ever thought they’d need an entire box? Yet, it seemed they’d go through them before this night ended.
By the time she knelt beside Emily’s body, Dean had emptied out the rest of her pockets. The contents made up a small pile.
“Turn her toward me.” When they did, gasses from her body escaped.
“Health department is going to close me down for sure,” Sally grumbled from the closest group. She handed Lucy a serving tray to hold the few things they’d found.
Dean had started at Emily’s head and worked his way methodically down, checking her body. When he reached her back pocket, he pulled out a small cell phone. “Looks like yours.”
“Same model,” Lucy said. “Top of the line. They just came out, and they’re not cheap.” She added it to the tray.
When Dean was convinced he’d find no other clues, he motioned to Bubba and Billy. They stepped closer, but Billy blanched, obviously afraid he would be asked to move the dead woman yet again.
“Get two of the tarps we use to cover the pool tables. They’re under the bar top.”
“Sure, Dean. No problem.” Billy wiped his hands on his jeans.
Careful to stand as far from the body as possible, they helped cover Emily, then joined Jason and John near the bar. From there they could monitor t
he street and the storeroom.
“It’s the best we can do for now,” Dean said. “Moving her would raise the risk of contaminating two areas if she does have any bio-hazard residue on her. Eaton will need to call in a decontainment group tomorrow.”
“I’m surprised Eaton hasn’t shown up,” Jason admitted.
“I’m sure he has his hands full at the hospital. Sally, it’s up to you to explain all of this to the ME and Sheriff Eaton tomorrow.”
Sally had broken down and lit a cigarette. She stubbed it out at the tone of Dean’s voice. “Where do you think you’re going, Dreiser?”
“Depends on what Lucy finds on Emily’s cell.”
Lucy had been thumbing through the system. “I think I found a map, but I’m not sure what the starting point is.”
“You said it isn’t safe to go out.” Jason jerked his head toward the street.
“I think we need you here,” John Rich added.
Dean picked up a set of keys from the tray. “Can you tell me where Emily lived, Sally?”
She twirled the pack of cigarettes once, twice, three times. Then rose and went to the map. She traced a route with her finger. “Last house on Mossman Road. Pretty desolate out there.”
“Jazmine and I’ll take my truck.”
“No. Jazmine can stay here. I need to go with you.” Lucy put the cell phone and Emily’s keys in her pockets.
Jazmine continued checking Paul’s vitals. “You’re lead on this, Dreiser. I’ll go where you want me.”
“Dean, I’m going.” Lucy closed the surgical kit and handed it to Jazmine. “You know where this map leads, and you know I need to be there.”
“Yeah. I know.” He pulled the prepaid phone out of his back pocket. “Jazmine, take this. There’s one number in it. Try it every thirty minutes. When it’s answered, apprise Aiden of our situation—he’s the one agent I’m sure hasn’t been compromised. Tell him everything you know. Local authorities are on a need to know basis. Clear?”
“Clear.”
“Lucy, five minutes. Check on Colton and Paul and leave any final instructions. The UAVs have been passing every forty minutes, so we should be clear to make it to my truck. Meet me at the front door in five.”
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