by Ellis, Tara
“About four hours ago,” the woman said, kneeling next to Danny. “My name’s Sarah. What do decreased pulses mean? Are you a doctor? I thought there might be someone here at the fire station, but I can’t find anyone. I didn’t know what else to do. His dad…hasn’t come back from work since the light happened.”
“I’m Danny and this is Sam,” Danny said, turning to include Sam. “I’m not a doctor, I’m a paramedic. I’m afraid he might have broken his femur, which is the bone in the thigh. The decreased pulse could be from swelling, but it most likely means that the bone is displaced and causing pressure on the artery that runs near it.”
“The femoral artery,” Sarah said.
Danny glanced at the woman. “Yes.”
“I took some classes years ago to become a Certified Nursing Assistant, and then decided it wasn’t for me.” Sarah looked at Danny as another strand of lightning tore across the sky, followed quickly by more thunder. “What can we do?”
Danny stood and began searching through the items on the floor. Whoever had looted the place was thorough. “Sam, could you go get a couple Advil?”
“Oh, I already gave him some,” Sarah said quickly. “That, and half a pain pill I had left over from knee surgery last year. He was in so much pain; I hope that was okay.”
“It was smart,” Danny offered. She tugged at one of the back compartment doors on the truck. The medical bag was gone, of course. However, on the top shelf was an item that could save the boy’s life. Fortunately, it wasn’t something that anyone would want to steal.
She turned with the two-foot long contraption in her hand. “This is a traction device,” Danny said as she approached them. “I can use it to reduce the break and relieve the pressure.”
“Will he be okay?” Sarah sobbed, reaching for her sons’ hand.
Danny exchanged a look with Sam. “So long as the femoral artery hasn’t been cut, he’ll be in a lot of pain for a while, but should be okay. We’ll improvise a splint for him.”
Sarah closed her eyes. “And if the artery is cut?”
Danny positioned herself next to Sarah and took her hand. “Then there isn’t anything we can do. Do you still have the other half of that pain pill?” Sarah nodded. “Then give it to him. This is going to hurt.”
An hour later, Danny and Sam wearily re-entered the building where their gear still sat, shaking water from their hair. The rain had finally let loose. After successfully reducing Jeremiah’s leg and using the traction device as a sort of splint, Sarah had insisted on taking him back home. His thigh was still soft and hadn’t shown any signs of filling with blood. Since the pulse in his foot returned, Danny was hopeful the seven-year-old would eventually recover.
“That was pretty amazing,” Sam said as they unrolled their sleeping bags. “We’ve been so busy running and surviving that I’d forgotten what you used to do for a profession. You must have been an incredible medic.”
Danny sat on her bedding and stared off into the dark recesses of the open workspace. She was deeply troubled at how easily she’d been able to ignore all of the injured and needy people they’d passed along the way. “I know that it’s unrealistic of me to think that I should have stopped and helped more people this past week,” she said slowly, her voice sounding hollow. “But it shouldn’t have been so…easy, Sam. Do you know that I can’t even remember them? I’m thinking back over those first days, and aside from the old woman at the airport and the little girl whose mother pulled her away, I can’t remember any of them.”
Sam sat down across from her and after a moment of silence, cleared his throat. “This is about survival. And compartmentalizing. What we’ve been through…what we’ve witnessed, is simply too much to process. We’re fighters, Danny, so we’ve done what was necessary to keep going. It doesn’t make us bad people.”
“Then what does it make us?” She focused on Sam’s face then, and saw the same pain she was feeling reflected back in his dark eyes. “I was going to quit.”
Sam stared at her quizzically. “Quit what?”
“The department. When I was on the plane, I was on my way back from a job interview in Florida. They’d offered the position to me on the spot and I accepted.”
Sam sat quietly and waited for her to continue as the rain drummed on the metal roof.
Danny thought the rain might bring some relief from the heat, but it only added to the humidity. She wiped at her face and then pulled her thick hair up off her neck. “Two years ago, I went on a cruise with my best friend. It was the first vacation I’d had in five years and the last one since this week. Ever since, I’ve thought about working as an on-board medic, but never really thought it was a move I could realistically make. Then…”
She hesitated. Thunder rolled, underscoring her churning emotions. It was dangerous territory for her. A darkness that threatened to drag her in if she got too close. “I’ve had problems sleeping for nearly a year. My chief made me talk with a counselor who after one session tried to diagnose me with PTSD. He said it wasn’t uncommon for responders to suffer from it.”
“Post-traumatic stress disorder,” Sam echoed.
Danny nodded. “I wouldn’t accept it and never went back. Figured I could work through it on my own.” She stopped again and closed her eyes, letting the sounds of the storm envelop her.
“Something happened.”
Again, Danny nodded. Sam’s gentle prodding was enough to compel her to revisit the event that ultimately made her hit send on the application. Much like the flash, it was too much to process and forced her to shut down part of what made her…her.
“He was five years old.” Opening her eyes, she looked at Sam, nostrils flaring. “Five, Sam. He and his mom were on their way home from a family birthday party when a drunk driver hit them. The drunk walked away but we had to use jaws to cut Cody out of the backseat. That was his name. I know, because I still hear his mom screaming it…over, and over again whenever I close my eyes at night.”
Grace whined and nudged her hand before lying next to Danny and resting her head in her lap. Danny dug her fingers into the soft hair of the dog’s ears, trying to stay grounded in the present.
“He died in my arms, and there wasn’t anything I could do for him.” A body-racking sob escaped Danny then, and she bent over Grace, embracing the dog.
They stayed that way for several minutes, Sam a silent witness to Danny’s release as the storm raged around them. Flashes of lightning glowed a pale green and blue through the cracks in the wall and the glassless window, a reminder that even the sky had been changed by the otherworldly blast. Thunder rumbled a few seconds after each bolt, sounding less like a storm and more like the world itself groaning in agony over how any normalcy had completely vanished.
“There isn’t anything I can say to make what you went through any easier,” Sam offered when Danny eventually sat back up.
“It isn’t supposed to be easy,” Danny said hoarsely. She was sure the therapist would say that finally talking about the accident and letting her emotions out would make her feel better, but she only felt…hollow. Sniffing, she wiped at her eyes and struggled to compose herself. “That’s the point, Sam. I’ve had to shut a piece of myself down every time I’ve experienced something horrific until I don’t know what’s left. This past week has proven that to me.”
Sam reached out and placed a hand on her knee, his face earnest. “Everything you’ve gone through, Danny, has brought you to this moment. It’s prepared you to be the person who I need. Who Grace needs, and your father needs. Who Jerimiah and Sarah needed tonight. You’ve sacrificed a part of yourself so you can be a survivor when others can’t, and will step up and do what needs to be done. There’s no shame in that. No guilt.”
Danny clung to his words, wanting to believe him. She so desperately wanted to believe him.
Chapter 10
TOM
Near Blackfoot, Idaho
“Tom.”
Tom focused on the voice. He knew h
e recognized it, but a deep sleep clawed at him, threatening to suck him back under.
“Come on, Tom. Wake up. It’s Ed.”
Ed. Tom managed to open one eye, but the room was cast in shadows so he forced both open and stared at the old man hovering over him. “I’m awake,” he mumbled, pushing himself up onto his elbows. Memories of the night before came rushing back as Tom looked around the familiar family room of the farmhouse.
“That must have been some dream you were havin’,” Ed commented. He leaned back from the couch where Tom lay and sat on the coffee table. “You were yelling.”
“I don’t remember.” Tom swung his legs over the side of the couch and sat up. “In fact, I don’t remember much from the past couple of days. I barely remember getting here.” He gingerly pushed at the swelling over his left eye. He’d had a concussion before, and knew he was suffering through a pretty serious one.
“It’s only been about five hours since you got here,” Ed explained. He pointed at a window towards the front of the house, where the first hint of morning was dawning. “You showed up on the porch in the middle of the night, shot and confused, looking like you’d been worked over pretty good. Maybe you can fill in some of the extremely wide gaps?”
“Ethan!” Tom tried to stand before Ed forced him back onto the couch.
“We gathered that something happened to him. You kept saying ‘they’ took him. Who, Tom?”
Tom rubbed at his temples, willing the headache to subside. He wondered briefly if he’d ever feel normal again. “Two men…convicts who escaped from a prison bus that crashed. They ambushed us, shot me, and took the horses. And they took Ethan.”
The creases on Ed’s face deepened. “Why in the world would they take the boy?”
“They were still cuffed,” Tom explained. He stared at the candle on the table behind Ed, recalling the scene. “They didn’t know anything about horses except that they wanted them. Maybe they figured Ethan could help…and would be easy to control. I don’t know, but I’m afraid once they manage to remove their chains and learn how to ride, he won’t be needed any longer.”
“Maybe they’ll just let him go,” Ed offered.
Tom shook his head, and then winced at the pain the motion caused him. “No. They’re killers, Ed.”
“How do you know that?”
Tom looked down at his hands and then cleared his throat. “I’ve been tracking them. Fairly easy to do, considering the terrain. They’ve already killed a man.” Tom looked up at Ed and swallowed hard. “Some farmer, not far from here. He confronted the three of them yesterday morning, when he heard them out by his barn. I got there pretty late last night, but from what I could tell, I think they’re still trying to cut the chains on their handcuffs. They shot him dead in front of his family, Ed.”
Tom wished his memory of the woman sobbing over her husband’s death was as fuzzy as the time he’d spent on the bike. His resolve hardened, and he focused on Ed’s face. “I have to find Ethan.”
“You will.” Ed pointed at the fresh bandages on Tom’s arm. “Looks like you caught a bit of luck with that one. Could have been a lot worse. Although I gotta say, you did a shockingly poor job bandaging it.”
Moving his right arm to test its strength, Tom was relieved to discover it was a lot better off than his head. Looking at a glass of water and plate of half-eaten scrambled eggs on the table next to Ed, he was glad he’d managed to find his way back to their house. However, as his thoughts continued to sharpen, he felt an overwhelming urge to get moving again. He was already a day behind Ethan and he couldn’t afford to lose more time.
Ed must have picked up on his restlessness, because he slapped his knees and then stood, offering Tom a hand. “Let’s get you back on your feet.”
As the older man helped pull him to his feet, Tom heard Marnie gagging in another room. It was followed by the unmistakable sound of vomiting. He looked at Ed questioningly. “Is Marnie okay?” When the older man didn’t answer, Tom took a closer look at his friend. He’d been so consumed with his own situation that he’d missed some obvious signs. Even in the poor lighting Tom could see that Ed was obviously pale and his clothes looked baggy.
“I want you to take our two horses.” Ed moved to the kitchen and poured some water from a large plastic container into a cup. As he walked past Tom on his way to the back bedroom, he paused. “I’ve put some things in your backpack I thought you might find useful.”
Tom was deeply troubled by the finality of his dismissal. “Is it radiation sickness?”
“Probably.” Ed flinched when Marnie began vomiting again. “Nausea medication helped the first day, after you’d been here, but not anymore. She can’t keep anything down…or in.”
Tom and Ethan were both suffering from such mild symptoms that he hadn’t thought it was a serious risk. It had only been three days, so it was shocking how quickly she’d deteriorated. “We’ll bring the horses back.” He didn’t know what else to say.
Ed shook his head. “No.” He turned then and looked at Tom. “Marnie isn’t going to make it much longer. Maybe it’s because of her age, or because she has an autoimmune condition, but she’s much worse off than I am.”
Tom felt even more helpless than before. “I can stay for a while and help you,” he offered. “Maybe there’s something else we can do for her.”
Ed reached out and clasped onto Tom’s good arm. “Marnie and I have both led good, full lives, Tom. I appreciate the offer, but there’s nothing for you to do.”
Tom placed his hand over Ed’s, still on his arm, and squeezed it. “I’ll never forget you and Marnie, or your kindness.”
Clearing his throat, Ed straightened and took a step back, his mouth forming a hard, determined line. “Now. You go saddle the two mares and go find your son. I pray that you’ll somehow be led to him.”
“I know where he’s going.”
Ed tilted his head questioningly at Tom. “How’s that?”
Tom reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out an old, crumpled hardware store receipt. Holding it up, he turned it over to reveal a hand-written message on the back of it. Dad—we’re going to Virginia, Idaho. Ethan. “The woman found this sticking out of her husband’s shirt pocket. She—” his voice cracked and he coughed once. “She gave it to me when I explained what had happened.”
“He’s a smart boy,” Ed reassured him. “He’ll be okay.”
Tom forced himself to walk to the front door, overwhelmed with both leaving the couple, and the prospect of trying to find Ethan. The farmer’s wife told him that Virginia was a pretty small place, but there was no guarantee they’d actually be there. Or, they could have come and gone by the time he reached it. They could be anywhere by then and as they got closer to some bigger cities, his odds of coming across someone who could confirm a sighting was becoming slimmer.
With the horses, he had a much better chance of catching them. He’d ride hard for the town of Virginia and, if he was lucky, the storm he saw brewing in the south wouldn’t head their way. If it rained, he’d lose the ability to track the other horses.
As he opened the door and stepped through into the new day, Ed gave him one final directive. “You find your boy, Tom, and get him home. You get him back to Mercy.”
Chapter 11
ETHAN
Pocatello, Idaho
One of the police cruiser’s tires exploded with a surprisingly loud whooshing sound, causing Ethan to fall away from the scene and duck for cover. “Oomph,” he grunted as he hit the ground next to a wall of the parking structure. Pieces of smoldering rubber splattered on the cement by his hands and he brushed frantically at his back when he felt something hit it.
Billy laughed as he lifted Ethan by the scruff of his neck and shoved him toward the vehicle. “It’s just the tires. Cars rarely explode like in the movies. A total sham.”
It was still early enough in the morning that the car fire provided the brightest source of light to see by. Not that Ethan necessa
rily wanted to see anything out on the streets. He suddenly longed to go back inside the parking garage, even though only moments before he wanted nothing more than to leave its confining space.
They’d been forced inside the day before, after their plight through Pocatello had proven too dangerous, even for the armed convicts. The only good thing was that they’d lost at least half a day because of it. The bad part was that while the chaos of the city offered Ethan some opportunities to escape, the agonizing reality was that at the moment, he was safer with Decker and Billy.
Billy kicked at an unmoving body next to the car. As Ethan neared, he saw that the man was wearing a police uniform, but was stripped of all his gear. He was also beaten to death.
“Good riddance.” Billy spat at the ground next to the cop and the curl to his lip enhanced his ugliness. He was a wiry, medium-sized man in his thirties, but his long greasy hair and bad teeth made him look older. “Where were you yesterday when we could have used ya?” Billy jeered, holding up the hands that he’d finally managed to free the day before.
Ethan looked at Billy with a new level of contempt and spoke before he could check himself. “Are you really stupid enough to think his keys would have worked on those prison cuffs?”
Billy considered the comment for a moment while laughing, then pivoted toward Ethan and backhanded him. Hard.
Staggering under the impact, Ethan vaguely wondered what he looked like now that he’d become a punching bag over the past few days. He resisted raising a hand to touch the new bruise on his right cheek. It was a small act of defiance but he took what he could get.
“If you’re done smacking your kid around, you can give us your bag.” A man in his early twenties stepped out from the other side of the burning car. He was holding a crowbar that he pointed at Billy for emphasis. “Then, you can show us where you put your horses. We’ve been waiting for you.”