Somewhere along the way, she’d forgotten about compassion in her quest to tell a story. Justin reminded her what it was like not to chase after other people’s misfortune in an attempt to hide from her own. The pain had always seemed easier when it was somebody else’s problem. Now she realized that to find happiness, sometimes you had to live through a little sorrow, know what it was to be sad, and that was okay.
The ups and downs were what made life worth living. Dragging out other peoples’ pain would only destroy her—had destroyed her. If she could take it all back, she would never have done that interview with Charity.
And she sure as hell wasn’t doing that interview with Justin. She punched the button and let the e-mail go. A new future awaited. She’d made her decision, and she’d have to live with the consequences. Mercy opened her in-box and read a note from her soon-to-be-ex boss, with a file attached.
She opened it and found everything she needed to know about the massacre, stuff she’d been unable to dig up after hours of research. She scanned through the details from leaks of confidential data that had caused a huge scandal months back and stopped on a picture of an archeological dig in Afghanistan. Leaning forward to read, she caught the headline, and her heart stopped. Did he even know what had been in that convoy?
“Archeologists Find Deadly Plague in the Tangi Valley after Bombing Opens Ancient Tomb.” Not a virus, not a bacteria, it was something called archaea. She searched for more on the strange, single-celled organism. According to the Centers of Disease Control, archaea was thought to be harmless to humans until this particular strain had been found in one of the archeologists who’d helped to excavate the tomb. It became the first known archaeal pathogen. In fact, nobody had known it existed for several weeks, until the infected person came down with a case of the flu and died hours after.
The flu worked as a catalyst, allowing organism to attach itself to human cells and mutate. From there, it could go airborne, riding on the virus, easily transmitted from person to person. Thankfully, they discovered early what had triggered the death and the entire team had been quarantined. Shortly afterward, the living members of the team, along with the body, were loaded into a specially sealed mobile container and held on a military outpost, pending orders to escort them to an undisclosed location.
The tomb and the contents of the tomb were destroyed in a mysterious explosion, leaving the woman’s body and the living team members the only known source of the archaea. The location of the tomb made it difficult to extract the survivors by helicopter.
Word leaked about what the American government planned to transport, and the strain was dubbed the Fourth Horseman or Armageddon Virus, even though it wasn’t really a virus. The Afghani government wanted it out of their country. The citizens of the United States didn’t want it within their borders. Protests had sprung up everywhere. Destroy it, said some. Save it and study it, in case it hadn’t been contained, lobbied others. Some of Afghanistan’s neighbors threatened military action if it was moved into the United States, stating we intended to make a weapon of it; others threatened to flatten the valley if it wasn’t moved. And worst of all—it had gotten the attention of every terrorist on the planet, and the United States had been forced to act.
The human body didn’t know what to make of the organism. It hadn’t been a sickness that ultimately killed the unfortunate archeologist, but a severe allergic reaction. Once it attached to the flu and mutated, it could travel and the organism could be turned into a biological weapon. If that had happened, the earth would have seen a pandemic unlike anything before. Mankind could be wiped from the face of the planet. By calling for an airstrike, Sergeant Justin Redway destroyed the corpse, the infected team, and any chance the plague would fall into terrorist hands.
Of course everyone wanted Redway’s version. Did the Horseman really exist? Was that why he’d called in the airstrike? Had the containment been breached? The world could only speculate, and the government sure wasn’t talking, but neither was Redway. Hence the reason his version of the story could have launched her career into the stars.
She had to tell him about this. Once her boss got her resignation, they’d come searching for him and the story. Mercy wished she could take it all back, but that wasn’t going to happen. The only thing she could do now was damage control, and she had a lot of explaining to do, including coming clean about who she really was, or used to be.
Hopefully, he’d forgive her.
Had he saved the world, or was it a romanticized version of something else not so glorious? He was the only one who knew why he’d called in the airstrike. Mercy snapped her laptop shut and tossed it on her bed. She jumped up and scrambled to get into her jeans and thermal shirt. Early in the morning, he’d most likely be in the barn, saddling his horse. If she’d learned one thing about him, he was a creature of habit. And Justin never slept after four.
***
Justin dug in the medicine cabinet, underneath the sink, and in the pantry. He’d bought toothpaste, but couldn’t remember where he’d left it, and it was driving him nuts. He hated the thought of going back to town because he couldn’t remember where he’d put it, and at four in the morning, it was doubtful anyone would be open to sell it to him. He only made the trip when necessary, and the last time had been….
The truck. Now that was hard to believe he’d forgotten that. That preceded some pretty memorable events, but in his defense, what man wouldn’t have gotten a little distracted and left the bag in the pickup? Mercy had the condoms in her hand when they went inside, so he’d had no reason at the time to go back for it.
He slipped his boots on and trotted out to the truck in his boxers and T-shirt. His pickup sat partially buried in a snowdrift from a late-spring storm, where he’d left it the day he’d come back from town with a passenger. He banged on the door with his fist to knock the ice off and wrenched it open with a hard yank. Damn, it was cold. He did a little hopping dance as a gust of snow and icy wind went up his shorts. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
As quickly as humanly possible, he snagged the bag and bolted inside. Justin tossed it on the counter and ran over to the fireplace, aiming his backside at the warmth. He closed his eyes and let it soak in. The only thing he hated about this godforsaken country was the weather. Either frozen or baking, rarely was there a season in between, say, like spring or fall. And that trip out to the pickup could’ve waited until daylight, when he was dressed.
But now that he was fully alert, he might as well read that magazine he’d purchased, because he sure as hell wasn’t going back out there to ride. He stepped away from the fire, snagged the magazine, and ignored the whiskey and exploded tube of toothpaste that had burst the seams of its box. A smart man would pour the booze down the sink, but Justin didn’t dare to touch it.
He moved to the couch and sank into the thick cushion and flipped the magazine open. Dog trotted in and plopped down in front of him. Her whine was impossible to ignore. Justin glanced over the top of the magazine at the con artist. She wagged her tail and stared up. “You can’t be hungry again. I just fed you last night.”
She groaned and thumped her tail, a huge doggy smile on her face. Right. Yeah, she had his number. “Okay, but enough of the sad eyes, you’re not starving to death.” Justin set the magazine down and headed for the pantry. He pulled out the massive bag of puppy food and scooped up a hefty portion, taking note he’d have to make that trip sooner than later. “Where do you put it?” Need he really ask? She’d already grown too large to ride in the saddle with him.
She wiggled around his legs as he set the bowl down, and Justin sank to the floor to sit with her. He rubbed behind her ears. Part of her training involved socialization. A two hundred-pound dog with food aggression would be a really bad thing, so Justin made sure to always be there when she ate. Since he’d been doing it since he got her, he could now lift the bowl away, or take a hunk of steak from her mouth without so much as a growl. It didn’t look like he did much, but it would m
ake a difference when she became the giant she was destined to be, or at least that’s what Will had told him.
The old man had advised him to start there, and he’d listened carefully to all his instructions over coffee. Justin was surprised how smart Dog was. She caught on quickly. She could sit, lie down, stay, and fetch—kind of. If she didn’t eat the toy before she got back with it.
Justin reclined on his side on the floor and closed his eyes. He stroked her fuzzy puppy coat. Wyoming had been good for him. Especially since the press hadn’t found him, and he hoped that meant they’d forgotten about him. He planned to stick around permanently. Will and Mercy had become like family, even if Will didn’t know he was seeing, dating—whatever their relationship was—his granddaughter.
But he planned to rectify that as soon as possible. He didn’t like sneaking around behind the old man’s back, and first thing in the morning he’d have a talk with him, let him know how he felt about Mercy.
Which was what? Justin opened his eyes. Holy shit. He was falling for her—hook, line, and sinker—ass over heels in love. When had that sneaked up on him? Dog groaned and Justin realized he had a fistful of fur. He released her and rubbed the spot. She turned and licked him, quick to forgive. Two females had him wrapped around their fingers, or toes in Dog’s case, and the thought didn’t terrify him. Maybe he had found home.
Justin lay back on the floor and closed his eyes. It was nice to finally belong somewhere.
***
Whump, whump, whump, whump, whump.
Justin’s eyes snapped open from where he’d fallen asleep on the kitchen floor with Dog curled up beside him. His heart pounded in his chest and the sound of his blood roared in his ears. He sucked in a deep breath and rolled to his back to stare at the ceiling. For a moment he could swear it was more than a nightmare. He reached up and massaged his temples. When would it ever end?
Whump, whump, whump. Screeeee…crash!
Justin bolted to his feet. That was no nightmare. He ran to his bedroom and tore the curtain open. Fire illuminated the lake a couple hundred yards behind the house. Several Lodgepole pines were lit up against the night sky like pitch-dipped torches.
He snagged his jeans and jumped into them. Pulling a sweatshirt over his head, he ran for the door, forgoing socks and shoving his feet into the boots. Mechanically, he grabbed a first-aid kit from under the bathroom sink, one he’d put together for emergencies, but not nearly as substantial as what he’d carried in the army. It would have to do. Seizing his jacket from a hook, he ran out the door and for the accident.
What idiot would take a helicopter up when the temperatures had to be close to forty below? Justin rushed as fast as he could go, fighting his way through the knee-deep snow. When he finally reached the edge of the lake, he stopped and surveyed the scene.
The helicopter lay on its side, on fire. A hole in the ice, ten feet away from the wreckage, indicated someone tried to walk on the ice and had gone through. His gaze swept over the area and landed on that someone clinging to the edge of the hole.
Another man lay pinned under the chopper. Screaming.
God help him. Someone was going to die. Justin closed his eyes and drew on his courage. Choose. Who was most likely to survive? He couldn’t get them both. He opened his eyes and focused on the man in the water. “Hang on!” There was no way he’d make it back to the house and get his pickup before the guy succumbed to cold. Plus, there was no guarantee the vehicle would make it through the snow. Most likely not. He’d have to drag him out and carry him back.
“Swim!” someone yelled out from behind him. “Swim onto the ice.”
Justin twisted in the direction the voice had come from. Will stood on the shore with Bear and Sadie, a coiled rope over his shoulder. “Get the guy under the wreck. I’ll get the one in the water.”
Justin nodded and dropped to his belly, low-crawling on the ice.
The man in the water began to swim as told and slid up onto the lake’s frozen surface.
“Don’t move,” Will yelled out to the man now partially out of the water. He tossed the rope to him and the guy grabbed hold. Will tied the other end to Bear and he motioned for the dog to pull him out. The guy slid past Justin on his belly. His flesh was gray, his lips blue, but at least he was alive.
“Get my friend,” he said as he went by.
Justin turned his attention to the other victim, and began to crawl. Fuel dripped onto the ice, setting it on fire. Heat rolled toward him, sending steam into the air. As he got within ten feet of the wreckage, the ice began to spiderweb under him. Justin froze and spread his arms and legs out, trying his best to disperse his weight. The cracking stopped. “I don’t think I can get any closer without both of us going in.”
Will tossed the rope to him. It landed a couple feet away. “Can you swim?”
Justin nodded.
“Tie that around your middle. I’ll pull you back and we’ll think of something.”
“No. We can’t wait. That fire is getting too hot. He’s pinned by his leg.” Justin studied the wreck, analyzing what he needed to do next, and there really was only one answer. “I’m going to crawl to him and break the ice under him to free him.”
“That’s not a bad idea. You can get the wreck off him that way.”
“Yes. Can you pull us out?”
“Bear and Sadie won’t have a problem.”
“Good. You’ll need to move once we go in the lake.”
“Hypothermia?”
“Yeah,” Justin said.
“Got you covered. Just get that rope tied to him and don’t let go. My granddaughter is coming with a snowmobile and sled I built for hauling grain to the feeders when the snow’s too deep, but that’s going to take a couple minutes. First thing you do when you get out is rub the snow on your clothes and his. It’s fresh powder and will dry you off some and hopefully keep you from going into shock until we can get everyone back to the bunkhouse.”
“You know a lot about this.”
“It’s what I do.” Will nodded. “Nice and easy. Keep your weight spread out and you should be able to reach him.”
Justin slid on his belly toward the helicopter. His heart pounded against his ribs. He closed his eyes. “I can do this.”
He had no choice. Time to man up and face his fear. Today, no one would die because of him.
***
As the paramedics exited the bunkhouse with the pilot and cameraman, Justin sank onto the couch. Exhausted. If Will hadn’t arrived when he had, most likely both of them would have died. He knew how to patch people up, but he wouldn’t have known how to get out of water when he fell through ice, and he would have only been able to save one, if he could have reached him without drowning himself.
Will gave him a nod, not saying anything further, and left. Mercy stood by the door, leaning against the wall, watching him.
Justin jerked his chin toward the door. “Go on, warm up. I’m going to take a little nap.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” In truth, he was still trying to believe what had happened. He’d been surprised he hadn’t frozen when he needed to act. For the first time in years, he felt normal. He’d saved a life today, instead of taking it. He gave Mercy a soft smile. The look of concern was touching, but he’d be okay. “Go on. I’ll see you later.”
“Okay.” She shifted on her feet. “Are you sure?”
“Actually, I am.” Didn’t mean he didn’t have some things to think about, but he’d made it through the emergency without panicking, something he hadn’t thought he was capable of. Even scarier, it felt good to be back in the role as a medic. It felt natural.
He’d been in high gear since he’d gotten back to the bunkhouse, splinting the man’s leg with a couple plant stakes Will used to keep his tomatoes upright in the summer, treating the burns, monitoring vitals. Warm blankets from the dryer brought body temperatures back to normal after he’d had the men strip down. Two hours later, the ambulance had arrived f
rom Freewill, the closest hospital.
Sadly, Evans Point lacked the facilities to take care of the men. At least they’d wrecked on the right property. Anywhere else and they might not have had any emergency medical treatment. The paramedics told him that because of Justin and Will’s quick response, both men should survive their injuries.
Like riding a bike, it had just come back to him, and he’d felt for the first time since Afghanistan that something he’d done mattered. Perhaps Evans Point could use an on-call emergency medical technician? Waiting for two hours for help to arrive from Freewill was a long time in a life-or-death matter, and Mercy mentioned he’d might be able to join the Cooperative. But there was one thing holding him back.
“All right, but sleep. You look exhausted.” She smiled and exited, pulling the door shut behind her.
Not so much exhausted as confused. How had they found him? That helicopter had been a news chopper. His head told him that they could have just been flying overhead, but his heart knew better. Someone had sold him out. As Will and his dogs dragged them out of the lake, the pilot promised Justin his secret would be safe, reaffirming the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’d said they’d tell the station they’d failed to locate him.
He grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around his body.
He’d like to think by now he knew Mercy and Will and they wouldn’t stab him in the back, so it had to be someone from town. And that made him wonder if joining the Cooperative would be a good thing. Didn’t matter. If the chopper crew didn’t keep their promise, the media would descend on him like a pack of hungry wolves.
But this time, he wasn’t running. This place, Mercy, had been good for him. Justin grabbed the magazine beside the couch. Once the adrenaline levels dropped, he’d drop. Until then he’d read. Something had to get his mind off the betrayal.
Finding Mercy Page 7