by C. R. Asay
“They’re not coming to help you, Rose.”
I took a backward step. My finger touched the trigger again and then jerked away.
“Don’t I know it.” I retreated another step.
Justet didn’t move. The muzzle of his rifle dropped. I stumbled, righted myself, and allowed a rock outcropping covered in scrubby bushes to come between us.
The second Justet was lost from my line of sight, I ran.
CHAPTER 7
Branches tore at my shirt, and the pungent smell of sage followed me as I crushed smaller bushes under my boots. I couldn’t think. I wished I couldn’t feel. Voltage coursed through my body, threatening to tear me apart from the inside. The contusion on my head and bruise on my face pulsed with the beat of my heart. I pulled one arm close to my body, trying to protect my side as my ribs jabbed pain into my lungs. I clung to the rifle with my other hand.
I tried to listen for pursuit, but my left ear was giving me sketchy, hollow-sounding information and my right was jammed by the whoosh of my own breathing. My course took me dead east toward the base. But then, with a burst of ingenuity, I turned southeast—in the direction of the road where I hoped to be able to hitch a ride with some unsuspecting convoy.
It had to have been more than a mile before the rumbling of a distant vehicle penetrated my bubble of white noise. The road showed through the brush several yards to my right. I threw myself to the ground, and crouched beneath an enormous tumbleweed in the nearby ditch.
I’d pushed my body way past what it felt was fair, and my lungs were letting me know. Darkness edged my vision. I forced myself to stillness and concentrated on getting a breath all the way down to the bottom of my lungs. I heard the rumbling of the vehicle again, closer now. The engine roared low and slow. I dragged myself up until I could peer over the incline.
A brown, cumulous dust-plume from the vehicle turned to cirrus as it rose into the still air. At least it was coming from the direction of the base and not of my pursuers.
Without any ammo the rifle was only good for a bludgeoning device, which wouldn’t help with that Humvee . . . except . . .
Oh, of course! The round! The stupid, little round that I’d taken from Justet’s office. A live round. I reached into my pants pocket, frustrated with my shaking fingers, and discarded my hat, a waterproof notebook, and a tube of ChapStick before finding the small brass cylinder. I pulled back the charging handle with stumbling fingers. No round popped out. I guess that answered that question.
Sweat stung its way into the corners of my eyes. I pressed the round into the hot, black chamber, snapped the bolt back into place, and rested the rifle on a rock so it was aiming down the road. The Hummer droned into view. It could belong to anyone on the base. All Hummers looked the same, as did the high and tight haircut in the driver seat.
I breathed in and out through my nose, willing my hands to still, and lined the driver’s head in my sites. I moved the rifle by fractions as the vehicle drew closer. My finger hovered over the trigger.
The driver swiveled his head this way and that searching for something. Closer. The Hummer was directly across from me before I recognized the man inside.
“Thurmond,” I whispered. I knocked my elbow against the stony hill in my haste to get to my feet. Ignoring the stab to my funny bone, I waved one arm above my head. “T! Hey Thurmond! Thurmond!”
The Hummer skidded to a stop several yards up the road. I crawled up the embankment. When I looked up, Thurmond was already out of the Hummer. The door hung open, creaking on its hinges.
“Rose?” He paused near the taillight, shielding his eyes. A few stumbling steps brought me next to the opposite taillight. I paused in sudden trepidation, my throat tight.
I searched his face. Was there deception hidden in the concerned slope of his mouth, the familiar lines around his eyes? Up until last night I’d had full confidence in my military comrades. Liked some more than others, but I didn’t fear them. Thurmond was my best friend, my battle buddy. Of course, I’d never thought the events of last night could happen either.
“What the hell happened to you?” Thurmond’s words rang with a hollow sound. I touched my left ear and rotated my jaw.
“You working with Justet?” My legs shook, and for a moment I was sure they would abandon me.
“What?”
“Justet and his freak squad.” I let the butt of the rifle rest on the ground and leaned on the weapon for support. I should probably have been aiming it at him instead. “Are you working with them, T?”
“Justet did this to you?”
“Just answer the question.”
“I would if I knew what the hell you’re talking about.” His expression was so confused and words so sincere that there was a painful release in my chest.
Of course he wasn’t working with Justet. He was the Thurmonator. I pressed a palm gently against my puffy eye, barely restraining the desire to wrap my arms around his solid torso.
“Rose?” Thurmond reached out to touch my cheek. I flinched away. He drew his hand back, surprise on his face.
“I’m fine,” I lied, looking up the road. How long did I have until Justet started hunting me down in his vehicle?
“The hell you are.”
“What’re you doing here?” I asked, turning back. Thurmond put both hands in his pockets.
“Wichman sent me.”
“Wichman?”
“Yeah. I went to the barracks looking for you last night, you know, after the commander took you out of the club.” Thurmond ran his hand across his mouth. “When you didn’t answer the door I figured you were already racked out and didn’t care to talk. But when you didn’t show up to formation this morning Wichman dragged me out of the line, and suddenly he’s shoving me toward this Hummer and telling me to take the north road up toward the firing range.” He wouldn’t stop staring. “Said I’d find you with Justet and Sanderford and he’d be right behind me.”
“We need to get out of here,” I said, barely listening. I stepped around the side of the Hummer to the passenger door. Thurmond spoke at my back.
“What’s going on here, Rose? Did Justet—?”
“No, he didn’t. Well he did, but it’s not like that.”
“Then tell me what it’s like because this whole thing is screwy.”
I didn’t respond immediately. Thurmond touched my side. “Hey, talk to me, Rose.”
The bruising where Sanderford’s boot had made contact sent pain shooting into my lungs. I turned and shoved him with a furious release of anger and tension. Thurmond took a surprised step back and rubbed his chest where I’d struck him.
“They tried to kill me!” I shouted. The whole experience condensed into five brusque syllables made my stomach flip-flop. Anger surged through my limbs. My head pounded. “Is that okay with you?”
“What? Why?” Thurmond retreated another step.
“They . . .” I swallowed to hold back a sudden desire to punch something else.
“What’d they do?” Concern etched lines in his face. He hesitated, and then brushed soft fingers against my cheekbone. I forced myself to stand there and not assault him again.
I had to trust someone. This was too big for me to carry alone. But doing that would open a door I’d closed when I’d lost Dad. I looked into Thurmond’s honest blue eyes and took a breath.
“Justet stole ammunition from the armory,” I said. Thurmond raised his eyebrows. “And it wasn’t just Justet either, in case you think I’m being . . . Anyway, Sanderford, a couple of privates, and two people I didn’t get a good look at are in on it too.” Now that I was committed, I couldn’t stop the words. So I vomited the story all over Thurmond. The abbreviated, thirty-second version that ended with me omitting the fact that I had probably killed Sanderford with a freakish volt of electricity from my fingers.
“They beat the hell out of you over . . . aliens?” Thurmond looked murderous.
“The beating was mutual.” I frowned. “Though I d
efinitely lost.”
“But over aliens?”
“Apparently.” I touched my cheek. The skin was hot and puffy under my fingers from where I’d struck the floor last night. A breeze cooled my sweaty scalp.
“Let’s get you out of here,” Thurmond said, reaching around me and yanking open the passenger door.
I stared up the road. A plume of dust rose not more than a mile away. My stomach leapt. Thurmond was already climbing in the driver seat as I slammed the door.
He squeezed the steering wheel, whitening his knuckles. I ran a finger gently across the blood scabbing my own knuckle. After a moment he shook his head, popped the gear into drive and made a tight U-turn. Dust flew up next to the open window. He pushed the speed higher than the Hummer was made to go, making it moan in protest. Wind whipped through my hair.
Thurmond pulled an elbow up to rest on the back of the seat. His eyebrows lifted in question as he alternately watched me and the road.
“You serious about this alien thing?” he finally said.
“Yeah. It was a freakin’ awesome start to my day.” Anger churned my stomach. I pressed a hand to my suddenly splitting head. “Especially when Corporal Thurmonator entered from stage right to save the day.” I was appalled at the sudden sarcasm twisting the words. “Hoo-freakin’-rah!” I couldn’t hold his look anymore. I glowered into the side mirror, watching the road behind us.
Silence stretched between us, a long and heated thing that only cooled when Thurmond spoke.
“You hurt? Besides what’s on your face?” Thurmond asked.
“You should see the other guy.” The dead other guy.
A smile flickered at the corners of his mouth.
“And they really said they were going after aliens, huh?”
I suppose I went through a similar moment of disbelief and humor when Justet told me, but having it followed up with physical violence had a way of dampening the hilarity. And after what I’d done to Justet and Sanderford, aliens seemed downright plausible.
“Rose, maybe this is all just a big misunderstanding.”
“They want to kill me! Does that sound like a misunderstanding to you? I’d think if you were going to kill someone you’d have a really clear understanding as to why.”
Thurmond shook his head. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or simply perplexed.
“Fine. What the hell do you want to do then? Go to the MPs?”
“And tell them about the aliens? No thanks.” If Thurmond thought I was off my rocker, what would the MPs think? Not to mention that an investigation would be in order, making my wall locker public domain.
“I was talking about the ammo theft.”
He had a point. I pulled my hands close to my chest and stared down at my open palms. My nerves pulled taut. Tingling voltage raced into my fingers. I suppose I could go to the police. There was a certain amount of security at the thought. They were the heroes of our urban world, the ones you went to when you had a problem such as this. And Justet was delusional.
That shivery, electrical feeling crawled through my hands. A delicate blue thread of light leapt between my finger and thumb. I shoved my hands between my knees.
I was delusional too.
“What about the commander?” Thurmond suggested.
My stomach twisted, remembering Justet calling someone “ma’am” on the phone.
Before my thought could come full circle Thurmond jerked his head to look in the side mirror. I looked in my own mirror. An enormous Deuce and a Half military transport truck bore down on us.
Thurmond mashed his foot on the accelerator. The Deuce smashed the Hummer from behind, flinging me into the dashboard. I caught myself with my hands and shoulder. Thurmond swore.
“What—?”
“Get down!” Thurmond shoved me to the floorboards.
The Deuce struck us again and the Hummer slewed recklessly to the side, lifting for an instant on two wheels before it slammed back on all four. The back passenger wheel dipped into the ditch, jarring everything to a violent stop.
Dust rolled through the air in hot, sun-streaked clouds. The world seemed too still, the quiet too long. The smell of motor oil and gasoline fill the air. I turned my head, trying to bring coherency to the moment, and found Thurmond’s face. His mouth moved and the world sped up with a rushing sound, focusing into a distant echo of words.
“Rose, did you hear me? Get outta here!” Thurmond held his side with one hand, crushing his uniform into little mountains and valleys. He shoved at my shoulder with his other hand. “Get out! Don’t let them see you!”
I fumbled with the latch. The door fell open, exposing the dirt in the ditch. I tumbled out, my hands hitting the ground first. The rest of my body followed, landing with an unsightly flump and sliding down the incline a few inches. One foot caught in the Hummer, halting my descent. The strap of the M-16 hooked around my ankle, the rifle itself wedged against the floorboard and seat. I twisted to get free. Desperation clouded my reason.
A vehicle door slammed.
I closed my eyes, took a frantic breath, and with abrupt efficiency, pulled the muzzle of the rifle up and away from the seat. I yanked my leg out of the Hummer, dragging the M-16 with me.
I braved one more glance at Thurmond. He hunched over the steering wheel, hand clutching his side, frantic eyes on me.
“Don’t let them see you. You hear me, Rose?” he whispered.
I nodded. He scrunched his eyes shut and pressed his lips together. I wanted to go to him and call for help. Instead, feeling like a coward, I untangled the strap from my ankle and kicked the door shut.
Voices lilted over the top of the Hummer. “Should’ve been on our way to Air Guard base by now to load the C-130. She’s not going to like it if we’re late.”
From the way the Hummer was slanted in the ditch I could see only the soles of several pairs of boots on the other side. I pressed my back against the slope and wormed my way upward until I was beside the back wheel.
“She’ll like it even less if she finds out you didn’t take care of this.” Sergeant Sanderford’s gruff voice brought a peculiar mixture of exultation and terror trilling through me. He wasn’t dead. But on the other hand—he wasn’t dead. “We’ve got time anyway. Wheels up at twenty-three-hundred hours.”
“He doesn’t know anything.” Justet this time. “We’re wasting time, not to mention that now we have to do something about him.”
“He knows something all right. Thick as thieves, those two. We’d have to take care of him anyway.”
My thumb found the safety switch of the rifle and flipped it to the off position. I wondered if I’d be able to find a single clean shot quick enough to save Thurmond. The racking of a pistol made my finger freeze on the trigger.
“Where’s Rose, Corporal?” Sanderford barked. The boots scuffed up a great deal of dust, muting their individuality.
Door hinges complained. A moment later, a grunt of pain sounded from inside the Hummer. My head pounded. I could barely make out the words through my hollow left ear.
The scuffling of feet. A dragging sound. The boots stepped quickly back and a camo-clad body fell onto the ground. Thurmond’s blue eyes stared at me for one second, tight and angry, before he was yanked upward. Only the backs of his boots were now visible.
“Don’t make me ask again, Thurmond.” A soft thud and oomph of air released from his lungs. Thurmond’s hand and knee appeared. “Where’s Rose?”
“W-why would I know w-where she is?” Thurmond wheezed and coughed, a painful wracking sound.
“I’m telling you, Sanderford, he doesn’t know anything,” Justet said. “You think she’s hiding in his cargo pockets or something?”
“Or something. Lewis, check inside the Hummer. Make sure she’s not under a tarp or a blanket.”
The Hummer rocked and the wheel above my head slid further into the ditch. I slid with it. Thumps pounded over my head and a minute later a voice spoke.
“Nothin’ here
, Sarge.”
“W-why do you want Rose anyway?” Thurmond said.
“Dust coming!” The nasally, broken-nosed voice of Private Luginbeel called out from farther away.
“Last chance, Corporal.”
“Come on, we’ve got to go. Someone’s coming!”
“Where’s Rose?”
Another thud sent Thurmond gasping and coughing again. I pressed a hand to my mouth.
“If he’d seen her she’d be in the Hummer with him, Sanderford!”
“Tell me where she is!”
“Bring him with us—”
“Where is she?”
I clenched the grip of the rifle. I could take the shot. Any shot to stop this.
“Sergeant Sanderford!” Justet seemed to remember his officer’s rank and dragged it out from where it had been hiding with his backbone. “Tie him up. We’ll take him with us. That’s an order! Let the boss decide what to do with him.”
A moment of silence and then Thurmond’s hand and knee disappeared. The boots scuffed up more dirt and thumped out of sight.
Somewhere in my mind I saw myself rising from behind the Humvee and placing a bullet into the back of Sanderford’s head. My fictional self then raced around the vehicle and beat the snot out of Justet and the rest of his cronies, after which Thurmond and I would turn over the survivors to the MPs for the court martial—a great heroic act that remained dormant in my mind.
I remained where I was, a single soldier with a single round. Even if I made the perfect shot I would still have a half a dozen other soldiers and their dozens of rounds to contend with. I know what I’d do in their boots. Put a gun to Thurmond’s head and threaten to kill him. That’s what my heroics would get me. That’s what it would get Thurmond.
I stayed under the Hummer, hands tight on the rifle. The stench of motor oil burned my nose and something else burned my eyes. The rifle seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, my legs a million. It took everything I had to force myself to stay still, to avoid the easiest, most violent option. My head hurt.