by Connor Mccoy
Slowly, Karen sat back down. She wasn’t going to protest any further. She already had made up her own mind on her plans long before Lauren made hers.
Tom examined Cheryl’s stomach. “Looks a lot better.” The rashes mostly had healed, leaving only pinkish spots across her flesh. “That should help convince them you’re better.”
“Let’s hope that’s the only place they want to look.” Cheryl rolled her shirt back down. She looked up at the trees above their heads. They had gone as far as they could go on the road before the sun began setting, so they stopped off at this spot off the road to make camp.
“If they look any further, they’ll be on the wrong end of my fist.” Tom turned to their tent. It was pitched under the canopy of a set of thick, low hanging branches. He quickly had knocked off some additional branches with a machete he had brought along to add some additional cover for their tent.
Cheryl smiled. “Not if my boot beats you to it. I’m sure Lauren can look me over.”
“Do you think they’ll trust her?” Tom scratched his right cheek. “You should have seen her at that meeting when the exile plan was adopted. She just tore into them. I hope she’s not on anyone’s shit list.”
Cheryl smiled, but sadly. “I haven’t even been able to think about our friends on this trip. Obie, Lauren, Karen, Cathy.” She sighed. “Nadia.”
Tom patted Cheryl’s arm. “Hey. She’s as tough as you are, and as hardheaded. I’m sure she’s beating this thing just like you.”
“Yeah. I hope you’re right.” Cheryl rose to her feet. “So, do you want me to keep watch for a while?”
“Watch?” Tom frowned. “You think Garcia’s going to send someone after us?”
Cheryl grimaced. “I don’t know. But it never hurts, I guess.”
“Cheryl, if anyone’s going to keep watch for a bit, it should be me. You need your rest. You’re still on the mend.”
“Yeah.” Cheryl looked off into the night sky. “It’s just been a little hard to sleep lately.”
“I imagine that fever’s done a number on you,” Tom said.
“You have no idea.” Cheryl slid her hands down her front pants pockets.
Tom approached her. “You want to talk about it? There’s something more going on here. Garcia’s got you spooked, right?”
“It started before that.” Cheryl turned and faced him. “I’ve been having nightmares—really, really vicious nightmares. It’s made it hell to try sleeping. I had the first one after I left Jamie and Karen alone on their date. I’ve had a few more in quarantine, and some really bad ones at the house.”
“What are they about?” Tom asked.
Cheryl winced. “The NATO soldiers come back to town. There’s so many of them. Their trucks shake the ground. They burst in through the door. Sometimes I’m ready for them, sometimes it’s totally a surprise, but it always ends the same. You try stopping them, but you can’t. You get off maybe a few rounds if you’re lucky, but they always nail you. You always get shot down and fall into a pool of your own blood.”
She turned away, clasping her shoulders for comfort. “They hold me down to the floor. They beat me. They…they rape me. I close my eyes, and I’m fighting off a rapist.”
It was as though Tom had taken a punch in the gut. His wife had been dealing with these horrors all this time? “My God.”
“Maybe it’s all just the damned disease. Maybe deep down I’m afraid of…of having it happen to me. Maybe I can’t stop thinking of how my mom suffered at the hands of her new husband.” She swallowed. “Maybe I feel guilty that Karen got beaten and raped while following my plan to get you out of prison. Maybe it’s all of them.”
“Hey.” Tom stepped up next to her.
“Nothing about this is your fault. Volhein and his goon squad were to blame for everything. If you hadn’t acted, I’d probably be dead by now and you’d still be under Volhein’s thumb.” Then he cupped Cheryl’s right cheek, helping to usher it toward his face.
“Besides, I worry enough about you for the both of us. We’ve been through a lot already and we’ve come through it, and we’re going to make it through this, too.”
“For a while I thought I wasn’t,” Cheryl said, “It was like I was on the edge. I might have stepped off it. But I wanted to see my babies one more time. I wanted to be with my family.”
Tom glanced at the tent, where Cheryl’s pack lay inside. The kids’ card was in there, too. “I think maybe our kids kept you here.”
Cheryl nodded. “They reminded me that I always have a home to come back to.”
“Hey, don’t forget me,” Tom said with a grin.
Cheryl chuckled. “Oh, I never forget you.” Then she leaned up and gave him a quick kiss on his lips. “I wouldn’t have beaten this thing without you. You’re the reason I’ll make it home.”
The two exchanged another kiss. Running his hand through Cheryl’s hair, Tom asked, “So, want me to take watch? I’m sure you’ll get some good sleep for a change.”
Cheryl ran her hand along the back of Tom’s neck. “I do want you…”
She didn’t finish the sentence. Neither one of them said anything for the rest of the evening, and neither one of them took watch outside the tent all night.
Chapter Nine
Robby whistled to himself as he strode out to the edge of the cement slab that the boathouse lay on. He had volunteered to stay behind instead of heading to HQ with the other men. He fished into his pocket and pulled out a flask of hard liquor. Nothing like a stiff drink to start the morning on. Then he put away his flask. The lanky young man figured sticking around here was a great way to lounge about. After all, nothing happened here.
Then, something pressed hard against his temple. “Make one sound and your brain’s decorating the cement,” a female voice shot into his right ear.
Oh shit, he thought.
“Look, that’s all I know. How about letting me go—urrrgh!” A gag in Robby’s mouth silenced any further protest.
Nadia leaned close to him, her gun still ominously close to his head. Robby was bound by ropes to a tree near the boathouse property. “If we get everyone out safely, we’ll talk about setting you free. But if you’re lying, well, it’s not going to be pretty, trust me.”
Nadia now sported Robby’s gun on her belt. Lauren clutched her own weapon. As it turned out, there were three other men around the camp. They had hustled Robby away from the boathouse without incident. Now they had to take out the other three.
One of the men was already out in the open, having walked out of the boathouse. He was baldheaded and armed with a pistol in his hand. He aimed at trees in the distance and mimed shooting at them. Clearly, he was bored.
Nadia, her gun in hand, crept along the boathouse. The male guard yawned. Lauren tensed up with each step Nadia took. Unlike Robby, this guy looked far more dangerous. But before Nadia could make a final move against the guard, someone new entered the scene. Lauren had to clamp her mouth shut to keep from shouting.
Karen! Lauren thought.
Her friend had cleared the trees and was very close to the fishing shop. Worse, the guard was right between Lauren and Karen. With the slightest turn, the guard spotted Karen.
“Hey!” he shouted.
“Damn!” Nadia quickly fired, but the guard had broken into a run. Nadia’s bullet just barely missed his head.
Several things happened at once. Karen, hearing the gunshot, fled to the side of the shop. The guard dove onto the ground, rolling around until he was now on his belly and facing Nadia, his own gun drawn in her direction. And worse, two more men now emerged from the boathouse on the opposite end. One fled toward the fishing shop, the other took cover by one of the boathouse’s pillars and aimed a rifle in Lauren’s direction.
It was the worst situation Lauren could find herself in. She didn’t even think to try shooting her gun. Instead, she ducked and ran into a nearby thicket on the edge of the property, the nearest cover she could find.
&nb
sp; A loud shot rang over her head, striking a tree just a few feet away. A piece of bark whizzed by her ear. Keeping on her belly, she crawled as fast as she could toward the trees. Maybe if she could get behind a tree, get a good look around, she could get a clear shot toward this guy…
As she reached the base of the same oak tree she had been using to scout the boathouse yesterday, the sound of gunfire ceased. Instead, there was rapid foot stomping. Someone was dashing right for her!
Lauren had reached the tree, but the thicket in this area was so dense that she couldn’t stand up or turn her gun around in the direction of her pursuer. She couldn’t even turn to see who was coming. A tall shape overshadowed her, a tall dark-mustached man in green pants, leather boots and a tank top. His glare looked as if it could cut through steel.
C’mon, Lauren, turn and shoot him! Lauren cried in her mind. But the branches of the thicket were too big here. She had unwittingly trapped herself.
The mustached guard raised his pistol. Time seemed to slow down for Lauren. How did she mess this up? Perhaps she was right, she was no soldier. She couldn’t have truly handled this. Attempting this rescue was a mistake.
But before her pursuer could shoot or do anything, two bullets zinged from the right and pierced the guard’s flesh, one at his chest, one at his head. The man jerked back and plummeted onto his side. He did not get up.
Lauren fought furiously to get out of the thicket. By the time she finally stood up, she found her savior—Kovacs. The soldier had a pistol in hand, with a torn shirt, a bloody smear across his upper chest and a scratch on his right cheek.
Lauren struggled to catch her breath. “How…why…?”
“Turned out there were two men on patrol early this morning. They were almost back to camp. Stark and I had some words with them.” Kovacs looked at his pistol.
“They were very generous.” Then he turned back to the doctor. “Come. Let’s go.”
Lauren had no time to ask about Kovacs’ true intentions. The man just had saved her life. Perhaps he intended to go all the way in helping her. But as they hurried back to the boathouse, Lauren wondered where Stark was.
Karen leaned along the fishing shop wall near the building’s corner. She had fired off only two shots in the past few minutes, having been pinned down since she got here. Whoever she was fighting, the guard had much more ammunition and faster firing capacity. She couldn’t even dare poking her head around to try seeing where her shooter was positioned.
Finally, there was a lull in the shooting. Karen dared to peer out. There was no sign of him, only the woods where she just had come out.
Part of her wondered if this was a good idea. She hadn’t even considered that this could go wrong. No, she couldn’t pass up this chance. She couldn’t throw away the chance to dish out some payback to one of her tormentors.
The gunfire had stopped, but the shooter could have taken cover behind one of those trees. If she went out there to get to the front door, she easily could be spotted. But she did spot a door on the other side, and there weren’t many trees or cover over there. Perhaps she could get in quickly and barricade herself inside.
She hurried to the other side. But as she turned, she found herself face to face with a tan-skinned male with an automatic rifle.
“Holy shit,” Karen breathed. Of course, he simply had gone around to the other side during the shooting lull. Why didn’t she think of that?
“Long way from home, aren’t you?” the male asked, his rifle pointed in her direction.
Karen fought the impulse to suddenly raise her gun. The slightest move could cause this man to splatter her guts with a single round.
“Drop it,” he said, “Now.”
Dammit, you can’t! You want to be a victim again? Don’t do it! shouted a part of Karen in her mind.
But he’ll kill you, you dumbass! You want to die? argued a more sensible part of Karen’s psyche.
“I said drop it.” The male then marched forward. Karen shook. She nearly dropped the gun anyway.
Just try taking the bastard with you, that first voice called.
Whatever the decision Karen would have made, the choice was taken out of her hands. Two shots were fired. And the male crumpled to the ground. Karen clamped her mouth shut. Stark stood over the corpse, gun in hand. His right arm was wrapped in a cloth, a hasty bandage from the looks of it. His bottom lip was bruised, and his right pant leg was torn. He had clearly been in a fight in the past few hours.
Stark gave the fallen guard a glance before raising his head, his good eye meeting Karen’s. She had no idea what this man was about to do. Did he just kill the guard so he could deal with Karen himself?
“So how’s your rescue going?” he asked icily.
“It’s hit a few snags,” Karen replied, “Why’d you come back?”
“We’ve got a man still here. We don’t leave one of our own. It’s got nothing to do with you. We really don’t care if you get your friends back or not.” Stark looked in the direction of the diner. “Do what you want. I’ve got to hook back up with Kovacs. Clark may have more men in the area.”
Stark then hurried off, leaving Karen all alone at the shop. This was an incredible burst of good luck. Quickly, she ran to the door and turned the handle. The shop was unlocked.
“Nadia! Nadia!” Lauren spotted her friend in the dirt not far from the diner.
She was lying on her side, panting. The shooter who had fired on Karen lay nearby, a bloody gash in his leg. Two firearms lay in the dirt, far apart from their owners. A male corpse lay a few feet away, blood leaking from a gunshot in his stomach.
Lauren made it to Nadia and gave her a quick look. A fresh bruise adorned the right side of Nadia’s face. There were no obvious signs of bullet wounds. She was panting, but her breathing didn’t sound pained. The doctor then checked the male next to her. He was lying on his right side, bracing himself to sit up, but not much else. Blood poured from a cut on his forehead.
“Nadia, are you okay? Are you shot?” Lauren quickly asked.
Nadia nodded. “Had a bit of a rumble with this guy after our rounds ran out.”
Kovacs then stepped past them, overshadowing the guard. Quaking, the man looked up.
“I’m sure you didn’t expect to see me again,” Kovacs said with a smile.
The man gasped, trying to speak. Lauren only could imagine what blow he took from Nadia to hobble his speech. It didn’t matter. Kovacs aimed his pistol squarely at the man’s head and fired. One shot, and the man slumped over.
Lauren couldn’t believe it. “Why in God’s name did you do that?” She rushed up to Kovacs, nearly bumping him into him. The soldier remained fixed on the now fresh corpse. “He was beaten practically into the dirt. Why not take him prisoner?”
Kovacs exhaled slowly. “A little unfinished business, Doctor. The chance to settle things with Clark’s men was a little too appealing for us.”
“And what about us?” Nadia stumbled to her feet, but her right leg jerked, perhaps due to injury, making standing difficult. “You have any unfinished business with us?”
Kovacs turned to Nadia. The soldier didn’t say anything. Lauren bristled. What would Kovacs do?
Then, Stark approached. Kovacs turned to his comrade. “Is the area clear?”
“No more signs of Clark’s men.” Stark flashed Lauren a look. “Your friend is fine. She’s by the fishing shop. If you’re looking for your people, they’re in the diner. I can’t say how many are alive or dead, if any of them are.”
Lauren nodded. “Nadia, will you be alright?”
“Give me a minute and I can walk,” she replied, “Go check on them.”
Her heart pounding, Lauren ran up to the diner and threw open the door. Then she dashed over the threshold, her boots touching down onto the floor of the diner. People were lying all across the floor. Tables and chairs, if there had been any, likely had been moved elsewhere to accommodate the people, who were covered with blankets and thin sheets.<
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Lauren did a quick count. About fourteen people were in the diner. Better yet, she instantly recognized several faces. These were her patients! Some of them definitely had come from the hospital. Others likely had holed up in their homes until they were forced into exile.
“Doctor Lauren?” asked a young woman near her left boot.
“Doctor Whittaker?” said a young man under a window sill.
Lauren almost wept for joy. “It’s me. It’s me! We’re here to get you all out of here. We took out the men guarding this place.” She noticed a few young people on the floor, a couple of teenagers and a few children. The fact that the disease could hit anyone young still rattled her.
“So they’re gone?” The young woman who first addressed Lauren sat up.
“So far. We nailed about three, four of them. The boats are gone. The rest must have moved on to HQ,” Lauren replied.
“Then we don’t have to do this stupid act any longer!” A man near the end of the diner stood up.
“Yeah, to hell with this!” said another man.
Suddenly, the mass of ailing patients started rising, not acting so ailing any longer. Blankets and sheets were pushed aside. In a minute, every man, woman and child was on their feet.
Lauren frowned. “What’s going on here?”
“We blue-flued them.” A woman with curly dark hair approached Lauren. “We overheard their plans to move only the healthy to HQ or wherever they’re going, while leaving the sick behind to die. So, we passed along secret notes to keep acting sick. ‘Blue flu.’”
“Yeah, I know what that is,” Lauren said. “Blue flu” was a term for someone who pretended to be sick to get out of going to work or some event.
“You’re Rosa, right? Rosa Hurst? My God, you looked like you were on the edge of death the last time I saw you.”
Rosa smiled. “You can thank Doctor Tran. At least, we’d like to think it was him. He made sure we got a lot of vitamins and electrolytes. He treated us as much as he could.” Rosa’s lip pulled in tighter.