Jeffry nodded, “You’re right, we’re lingering. Let’s move.”
As we went to the main entrance, the chirping of the bird grew louder. I spotted the little thing, a sparrow high overhead on a ceiling truss.
Seeing the bird gave me a thought. We needed to locate a drone so we could reconnoiter from safety. We made it to the entrance without incidence. Of course, the automatic doors didn’t open for us, but Jeffry released a catch and slid a panel aside.
Waving us back from the entrance, he said, “Leaving a place can be as dangerous as going into it. We’ll use the same system as before; see the red pickup? I’ll go there.”
Hopscotching from vehicle to vehicle, we gained the dump truck. There, Jeffry said, “I don’t expect the Walmart to be as pristine as Lowes was. Let’s take Tempest’s warning to heart and not linger in any one spot.”
I said, “We’ll leave the tow truck and tanker here. You take point and set the pace. The way you’re limping, we’ll need to park closer. When we get inside, I’ll grab a cart and take middle. Annette has our tail.
Jeffry still parked pretty far from the entrance, at least three-hundred feet. It was obvious that we were in a different sort of territory. Corpses littered the parking lot and the number increased on the pavement outside the Walmart entrance. Foul play was the only reason for bodies. I doubted plague victims travelled to Walmart to die.
Two hundred feet from the entrance, passing an old Tesla, a murder of vultures took flight. It was disgusting to think about what they were feeding on, on the other side of the car.
I took a few more steps, and it hit me. What I saw ahead verified the hit. Loudly, I spoke, “Hold up, I need to tie my shoe.” Bending, fiddling with my shoe, quietly I whispered, “We’re in a kill zone. The buzzards have to be eating meat no more than a few days old. Don’t be obvious, but check out the third body from us, the woman. Her face isn’t rotted.”
A second later, Jeffry said, “Don’t look, but we have snipers on the roof, on our eleven and one.”
Annette said, “Shit! Should we make a run for the truck?”
Jeffry said, “I can’t run, much less dodge. They have a good angle. I’ll be dead before I make twenty-feet.”
It’s Tempest in charge again. “We can’t waste any more time. Jeffry, I want you to start back to the truck. Walk normal. Take on the mindset that you forgot something. When you get to the truck, come get us as fast as you can.”
Jeffry started to say something. I stopped him. “Go now before they wonder what’s taking so long. We don’t want them thinking we spotted them.”
I stood and pointed toward our truck. For something to say, I said, “You’re going to get my inhaler.”
Puzzled, he grunted, “Huh?”
Imagining the snipers targeting my back, Harsh was my tone. “Get going.”
He got going. I waited until he was far enough and to his retreating back, I shouted loud enough to carry to the roof, “It’s the blue inhaler, left pouch of my backpack.”
Turning to Annette, I spoke in a normal voice, “So far, so good. They’ll wait because they want us closer. Act casual.” I pointed to a vehicle near us. “Let’s lean on the hood of the car and pretend we’re simply passing time.”
Beside me, leaning on the hood, Annette shuddered. “I can feel their sights on me.”
“That’s because they are… Crap I hope they have patience.” I glanced toward our dump truck. Jeffry was almost there.
To her I said, “When Jeffry gets here and stops, you get in first… move like you’ve never moved before.”
“Tempest, I’m about to pee myself.”
“Then do it before we get in the truck. It has plastic seats. I don’t want your piss running on me.”
Annette said, “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I’m trying to calm you.”
Our truck cranked. Jeffry drove for a distance before turning in the direction of the store.
Annette asked, “Why is he driving so slowly?”
I nudged Annette. “Don’t stare. He’s smart to drive along the front of the store. When he turns onto our lane, he’ll be facing the right way. The men on the roof will start shooting as soon as we break for the truck.”
Jeffry, barely at idle speed turned into our lane and coasted to a stop beside us. I shouted, “Did you find my inhaler?” To Annette I said, “Go now. Walk with your arm out stretched as if you’re reaching for something. At the door make your move and get in. I’ll be right behind you.”
The subterfuge worked like a charm. Annette reached the truck, moved fast to open the door and climbed in. I was beside her before she settled into the seat.
Jeffry hadn’t taken the dump truck out of gear. He stomped the accelerator. We could hear bullets spanging off the metal of the truck.
We had almost reached the parking lot exit when it happened. Jeffry turned the truck to access the exit and gave the shooters a better angle. A bullet ricocheted off the front edge of the doorframe into the open window on my side. Beside me, Annette lurched and grabbed her chest. I saw blood ooze between her fingers.
“Oh God, I’ve been shot… it hurts.” A moment later, she coughed and a mist of blood-specked spit hit the windshield in front of her. “I can feel air sucking into my chest when I breathe.”
I slid my hand between her back and the seat. Moving it up and down, I felt no wetness to indicate bleeding. I pulled my hand loose and saw no blood on it.
“The bullet didn’t go through you; it’s stuck inside your chest.”
Annette moaned. “It hurts, Tempest, like it’s on fire.”
The blood spot on the front of her light jacket was bigger, and growing. To her I said, “I’m going to slide my hand under your clothes and find the hole. We have to stop the bleeding.”
The bullet went in slightly above her right breast. I twisted in my seat so I could apply pressure to the hole.
I would’ve told Jeffry to hurry, but he was already at maximum speed. He volunteered, “She’s going to need more than a first aid kit. Where’s the nearest hospital. Maybe we can find a doctor.”
He’d turned from the Walmart in the direction of Henderson. I only knew of one doctor that might still be alive. “Keep going. I’ll tell you when to turn.
Ten minutes into our frantic drive, Annette started choking and gagging. Blood drooled from her mouth. I knew her lung was probably filling with blood, so I did the only thing I could think of. I used my free hand to force her to bend so her head was between her knees.
She gagged and coughed. I leaned over and saw a mix of blood and phlegm on the floorboard, but she drew a deep breath, managed to speak.
Coarsely, hoarsely, she said, “Please don’t let me die, Tempest. I don’t want to die.”
I said the only thing I could. “You’re not going to die. Hang in with me.”
The five minutes more that it took to reach the Piggly Wiggly at the corner of Main Street and Highway 45 seemed interminable, but it came. “Turn right ahead. Keep going until you see a big house with lots of fencing on the left. Drive to the front of the house and lay down on the horn.”
The second the truck stopped, he set his horn blaring. Told him to use his free hand to keep pressure on Annette’s wound and leapt from the truck to run to the front door. I let Jeffry lay on the horn for a few more seconds and then waved for him to stop.
I pounded on the door, shouting as I did, “Doctor Robbins, Doctor Robbins, this is Tempest. You gave me medicine the last time I was here. Please Doctor Robbins, we have an emergency. A friend of mine’s shot through her lung, she’s choking up blood.”
The angry voice on the other side of the door proved wrong Annette’s surmise that Doctor Robbins was dead. “I told you not to come back. I have a shotgun pointed at the door. Go away before I shoot you.”
I know my voice was as angry as his was. “No, I won’t leave. It’s you duty to help her.”
“I’m not a human doctor. I have no
such duty. Get away from my house.”
“No. I’m going to stay right here and you’re going to hear the horn honk until you open the door to either help us or kill us.”
For long seconds, I heard nothing. Banging on the door, I shouted, “Don’t ignore me.”
“Bring the girl so I can observe her through the peephole.”
I knew Jeffry’s leg wouldn’t let him carry Annette. I ran back to the still open passenger’s door. Jeffry said, “She’s unconscious.”
Desperation gave me the strength to scoop her into my arms. My trip back to the door was more a stagger than a run. I held her and kicked the bottom. “Here she is. She’s unconscious.”
The door opened. A strong arm pulled me through the door. Stronger arms took Annette from me. A woman held my arm. A man walked from us with Annette. He called without turning, “Vicky, the door, please.”
The woman pulled me from the reception area, around the service counter to race ahead to open a door that led into the veterinarian’s workspace. Annette’s legs bumped my hip as the man brushed past us and laid her on a normal size examination bed.”
He turned to me, tall, skinny, old, and grey-haired, but fit enough to carry a grown woman. “Out of my theatre, I don’t work with an audience.”
Vicky, plump, old and grey-haired tugged my arm. “You’ll have to wait in the reception room.” She pushed me from the room, stayed on the other side and closed the door.
Jeffry called my name in a subdued voice. I found him leaning on the service counter. Going to him, I said, “She’s with the doctor.”
“Did he say anything? Is she—?”
“I was only with them a few seconds before they ran me out of the room.”
He used a hand to wipe his face as though to erase the stress written on it. “She lost a lot of blood.”
As he said that, the door to the exam room opened and Vicky came out. Short, to the point, “She’s awake. Blood types, please?”
Jeffry and I both said, “O”.
She pointed to Jeffry, “Good, you’re bigger. We’ll drain you first.”
He limped through the door and she closed it again.
I checked my windup wristwatch; half-past noon. Filled with worry and dread, I began pacing the reception area.
That didn’t hold long. Worry and dread morphed to anger and need for revenge. In my mind, I was inside the Walmart, my rifle sights on a man. In my mind, I pulled the trigger and felt satisfaction watching blood and brains fly from his head.
My desire to charge from the animal hospital, crank the dump and roll, knotted my guts. They bastards had hurt one of mine. That’s whom Annette was… she was mine.
I pictured it was Jeffry in the room with a hole in his chest… yeah; he belonged to me as well. I tried to shake it; tried to calm my racing heart, but fuck it, nobody gets away with hurting or taking mine.
Pacing, clenching and unclenching my hands, I found my calm, found it because I knew the time would come; I’d have someone in my sights.
I checked my watch again. One o’clock passed. Two o’clock passed.
Followed by the old woman, Jeffry came through the door from the exam room. She went behind the counter and Jeffry, pale and slow, joined me in front of it.
The old woman spoke. “Hon, I’m Vicky, Doctor Robbins wife. It was touch and go, but your friend Annette is stable. She’s recovering from surgery and it will be several hours before you can see her.”
“But she’ll be okay?”
“Yes, barring any unforeseen complications.”
“What sort of complications?”
“There’s the possibility of infection or renewed bleeding. Hon, the doctor had a hard time stopping the bleeding. She lost a lot of blood.”
Jeffry said, “She has a gallon of mine.”
Vicky chuckled, “Almost, enough that you’ll be weak for a couple of days, maybe get lightheaded if you rise from sitting too fast.”
She’d lifted a load from me. “Tell Doctor Robbins I thank him from the bottom of my heart. I’ll tell him myself when I return.”
“I surely will.” She continued, “Jeffry, you should lie on the couch. I need to go back to clean.”
She left the room. Rather than go to the couch, Jeffry turned to me. “When you return from where?”
“I need to go to the ranch and let them know what happened.”
He studied my face for a moment and then said, “Tempest, let me tell you what I’ve figured out. Annette told me how you fooled the gang where she was. I watched you today. You use deflection, deception and create illusions. I’m calling bullshit. You’re going back to the Walmart. I can’t allow that.”
The hair on the back of my neck moved. “I know you can’t allow that because you’re not in charge of allowing. Nobody’s in charge of me but me.”
Jeffry frowned and said, “I’m doing it again. What I want to say is you should wait for me to recover from giving blood. I’m sure they’ll still be at Walmart a few days from now.” He pointed to the ceiling, “Do you hear that? It’s pouring again.”
I told him the truth. “I don’t care if it’s raining. What’s in me won’t wait until later. It has to come out now because it’s gnawing my brain like a mole looking for grubs. Besides, the rain will provide cover, Thick as it is; they’ll never see me coming.”
“Is your desire for revenge stronger than sensibility? You’re not afraid?”
Again, I told the truth. “It’s so strong that I’m not going to try to resist. Tell me what I should fear. Should I be afraid of the hornets that killed my friend Billy? Should I be afraid of the storm that killed my friends John and Bella? My friend Annette is lying in a bed in a veterinarian’s hospital. She may die. Should I be any more afraid of them who shot her than I am of hornets or storms?
“I can’t stop nature from killing people who are mine or from killing me, but I can stop murderers like them at the Walmart. I want those people dead. I want their existence erased from the earth and from my mind. If you were well, I know you’d go with me, but you’re halfway crippled and I’m not waiting.”
He gave my face another long moment, half-smiled and said, “Annette said you’re abrasive. Listen, when you deal with them, go with your gut feeling. That has served you so far.”
He did something unexpected, caught me off guard. He pulled me to his chest and squeezed me into a hug, said, “You should refuel the dump truck. Be careful. Come back. I don’t want to tell them you died on my watch.”
I pushed away. “Don’t ever again hug me like that. I don’t like people that close.”
He gave me another half-smile that was devoid of any sort of happy. “Sorry, I’ll keep that in mind. Honestly, Tempest, they did drain a lot of blood from me. I feel woozy and I’m having difficulty forming coherent thoughts. I’m going to take advantage of the couch.”
************
Windless, almost dark as night, it wasn’t rain outside; it was what Billy called a torrential downpour; coming so heavy that it soaked me on the short run to the nearly invisible rain-shrouded truck.
Soaked already, I got double-soaked pumping diesel at the Public Works. Freezing, shivering, I dug dry clothing from my backpack and changed in the cab of the truck.
I didn’t like driving the dump truck. The interior, suited for fat construction workers made me feel small… in another way, because it was so big and strong, it made me feel like a powerful midget.
Even though I knew there were only a few obstructing dead vehicles on the 45, with visibility maybe fifty-feet, I didn’t exceed ten miles-per-hour.
The dump’s heater was a good one. It took over an hour to reach the bottom of the hill before the Walmart. By then I was warm to the bone and dreaded another soaking.
I parked on the shoulder at the bottom of that hill and thought about what to do. The rain was good and bad. Good to hide me, bad in that, along with discomfort it would wet my rifle and pistol. I decided to go with only the pistol and
two spare magazines.
As I was driving, I’d wondered how the snipers were able to get onto the roof. Maybe there was an access from inside the store. If there weren’t such an access, they would have to climb a ladder. I figured the ladder would be at the back of the building or some other place that would conceal it.
With my shoulders already clenching at the thought of stepping from the truck into the downpour, I donned my baseball cap, opened the door, slid from the seat and was soaked in the time it took to close the door.
Finding my interior ‘Billy Westover’, I spoke to myself; “First objective; take out the snipers.
It was mid-afternoon, but trudging up the slight grade of the road it was hard to see the pavement under my feet. Clothing clung to skin, and in minutes, my boots filled with water. Deep down, I felt that if I found a ladder I’d find no one on the roof.
Amazed at how loud the rain was falling on concrete, I could see perhaps fifteen feet ahead of me. Approaching the near end of the Walmart, afraid that I’d walk into someone before I saw him or her, I drew my weapon.
There was no ladder propped against the end wall. Walking the exterior gave me a sense of how huge the building was. I finally turned the corner.
Less than halfway along the back wall I began to hear talk. Drawing closer, the loud, boisterous voices mingled with laughter made it easy to tell there was a party going on.
Before I reached the source of the voices, a ladder resolved from the rain in front of me. I stood at the base and stared up. The rainfall was so heavy that I couldn’t see the top of it. Dreading the climb, I almost convinced myself that with such a miserable condition, there was no one up there. Almost convinced myself; but fear that there might be guards… snipers on the roof put my foot on the first step.
Then I took my foot off to re-steel my nerves. Crap, it was a long way to the top. I attacked the ladder, took one-step and two. The aluminum vibrated in answer to my nervous quivering legs. If there were a wind, I’d have gone back down. Mid way up, the rungs slippery wet and my hands cramping from a death grip, I almost did reverse course.
Tempest of Tennessee (Episode 3): Tempest of Tennessee Page 5