She felt Malin’s hand on her shoulder. He’d climbed up onto the rock beside her.
“I want to do the right thing,” she said softly. “I really do.”
“I know,” he replied.
She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Dr. Ruzka racing down the road toward them. She was a small, blonde woman, her hair pulled back in a long, tight ponytail. She was still wearing the long t-shirt and sweatpants she’d slept in the night before. For someone who had already proven to be tough and resourceful, she had a soft face, almost childlike, that made her appear far younger than her age. She clutched the strap of a backpack that was slung over her left shoulder—medical supplies she’d brought with her from the clinic in Manchester.
“Is Norman with you?” Elna asked.
“He’s coming,” Dr. Ruzka replied, stumbling to a stop as she struggled to catch her breath. “I got here as fast as I could. Someone got shot? That’s what I was told.”
“Yes, but I’m not sure…”
Elna trailed off as the grinding of the drawbridge motor gave way to a faint high-pitched squeal. She turned back around and looked through the telescope. The drawbridge was no longer moving. It had lowered to perhaps a thirty-degree angle and stopped—not low enough for the people on the other side to get across.
“Something must have broken or gotten stuck in the manual controls,” Elna said. “The bridge stopped moving.”
“Maybe the screwdriver you jammed into the winch?” Malin said.
“Did I jam a screwdriver into the second drawbridge or the first?” Elna replied. “That was too many horrible weeks ago.”
She heard a series of gunshots then, followed by a jumble of shouting and screaming, possibly a child wailing in pain or terror. Dr. Ruzka gasped loudly and rushed onto the causeway, as if she intended to run straight to the drawbridge and leap into the middle of the fight. Malin held up a hand, as if to restrain her, but she had already moved around it.
“He said there were families,” the doctor said. “I thought they’d already crossed the bridge. Why did you tell me to come down here if we can’t get to them?”
Why did I summon her? Elna wondered. And she knew the answer, of course.
“Because we can’t let Rod Smith and his freaks shoot families,” Elna said. “As much of a big, stupid mess as this is going to be, we have to help these people. Come on.”
She returned her gaze to the distant drawbridge and was shocked to see that one of the soldiers had begun to climb the partially raised bridge. As she watched, he scrambled desperately with his hands against the concrete edge, finally found purchase, then pulled himself over the top. Immediately, he began sliding down, headed toward a gap between the edge of the bridge and the causeway road. Elna fully expected him to slip through and tumble out of sight, but he twisted his body around and grabbed the edge of the causeway.
“Well, one of them made it over,” she said. “He seems really athletic. I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so worried.”
A second soldier followed him. Then two more. Now there were two men and one woman sliding down the slope toward the gap. The man who’d already made it onto the causeway reached for them. He managed to grab the woman’s hand, arresting her fall, but the other two slid through the gap. Elna thought she heard them cry out as they fell out of sight.
Right into the water, she thought.
“It’s not smart to dive and splash around in the Red Triangle,” she said aloud. Then, to Malin, she said, “We’d better go see what we can do for the others. This is already turning into a big mess. Remember that old TV show Lost? I wished we lived on an island that moved around like that.”
“I’m sure if you put your mind to it, you could come up with a way to make the island move around,” Malin said.
Elna closed the telescope and stuck it under a loop of her belt as she climbed down off the rock onto the shoulder of the causeway.
“You think just a little too highly of me, Malin,” she said. “My batting average is not nearly as high as it should be.”
2
Elna had lost sight of the Army men, thanks to the slight arch of the causeway, but she thought she heard another gunshot. Approaching the drawbridge was not safe, that was clear.
“Looks like everyone wanted in on the fun,” Malin said, gesturing at something over Elna’s shoulder.
She glanced back in the direction of the Pasqualee Vineyard sign and saw four figures approaching from the guesthouse road. Norman, Raymond, George, and Selene had all come down together, leaving only Daniel and the Dulleses at the guesthouse. Elna groaned. This wasn’t going to make the situation any safer, especially with bullets flying around. Selene had brought her satchel of herbal remedies, and she patted it gently, almost affectionately, as she approached. Her little white dog, Sniffy, padded along at her side.
“Pop, you didn’t have to come all the way down here,” Elna called to her father.
George Pasqualee had grown a wild white beard that made him look like an emaciated Santa Claus. As he shuffled along, he seemed to be grimacing slightly, which worried Elna. He depended on his store of midodrine to fend off the effects of hypotension. A long walk was not good for him.
“Now, hey, this is my island, as I recall,” he said, wagging a finger at his daughter. “If it’s being invaded by mainlanders, I want to see it with my own eyes.”
“We’re going out there to meet them,” Elna said. “People have been hurt.”
Her father spread his hands out. “Fine. Let’s go. I want on the welcome wagon.”
“No, you’re staying behind,” she said, stepping in front of him as he tried to walk onto the causeway. “We might have to flee suddenly if things go badly, and you’re not able to run in your condition. Raymond, you should be with your son. The rest of you, if you’re willing, come on.”
Before her father could argue with her, she turned and started walking down at a brisk pace, wishing she had some kind of weapon with her other than a folding pocketknife. Malin and Dr. Ruzka caught up to her first, Selene and Norman bringing up the rear.
“Malin, keep that gun ready,” Elna said, “but don’t draw unless you have to.”
He patted his hip, where the handgun hung from his belt, glinting in the bright, late-morning sun. “I’m fast on the draw. Don’t worry.”
“Sorry, but I’m just going to have to worry,” Elna muttered.
Sniffy seemed excited, running from lane to lane, sniffing the air, and barking. Elna considered asking Selene to carry the dog, but she decided to let it go. Maybe a small barking dog would somehow help the situation. At the very least, a noisy dog could put ill-intentioned people off-balance a little bit.
The long walk to the first drawbridge seemed interminable under normal conditions, but knowing what was ahead of her, it became unbearable. Minutes felt like hours. Elna was tempted to start running, but she settled for a fast walk instead. The water in the bay had been relatively calm, but it seemed to pick up now, roaring on either side as it crashed against the pylons.
No one spoke during the long walk, and Elna knew why. An impending dread was growing in and around them. Only Sniffy dared an occasional bark, but he, too, had quieted and almost seemed to be questioning Selene, confused by the circumstances.
The world has finally come to us, Elna thought. A thing she had dreaded.
The soldiers who had made it over the raised drawbridge slowly appeared out of the haze. Two men and a woman were huddled now beside the gap in the middle of the westbound lane. As Elna gradually drew closer, she realized one of the men was hunched over, clutching his shoulder as the others tended to him. A rather large puddle of blood glinted darkly on the asphalt at his feet.
“He’s hurt,” Dr. Ruzka said. “That man there is bleeding very badly.”
“What happened to him?” Selene asked, moving up beside the doctor. She wore a long, loose floral-print dress, and the rising wind caused it to ripple like a sail in a storm.
&n
bsp; Both women held the straps of their respective medical kits, like warriors in arms. Another gunshot rang out over the roaring waters of the bay. Elna and most of the others flinched, but Dr. Ruzka, for some reason, perked up and rushed forward even faster.
“Wait, Doctor, wait,” Elna said.
Dr. Ruzka glanced back at her with a puzzled frown, as if Elna’s response made no sense to her.
“People are injured,” the doctor said. “Can’t you see the blood?”
“I can see it,” Elna replied. “You heard the gun, right? They are shooting on the other side of the bridge.”
“Exactly!”
A fourth person appeared over the edge of the drawbridge, a woman with a child clinging to her back. Elna wasn’t sure how they’d made it over the edge—perhaps they’d had help—but as they scrambled over, the child let out a terrified yelp. One of the soldiers waiting below moved to catch them as they slid down the slope.
“Oh, this is terrible,” Dr. Ruzka said. “We have to do something right away!”
Elna ran to catch up to her and grabbed her by the shoulder. “Wait, Doctor, please. We can’t afford to let you get hurt. Keep back a little bit. Let me check things out and make sure it’s safe to approach them.”
As the woman and child were pulled across the gap, the child started pointed wildly and saying something in a warbling voice. Elna realized the kid was pointing at the group of approaching islanders. Suddenly, all of the adults except the injured man whipped around, moving practically in unison. Only in that moment did Elna realize they weren’t Army soldiers. These men and women were wearing Marine combat uniforms, and she noted now that they had sidearms in holsters.
“These are United States Marines,” she whispered, as Malin stepped up beside her.
“Does that make it better or worse?” Malin asked.
“Not sure.”
The adults formed a line, one of the women nudging the child behind her. There were six of them: two women and four men. It was instantly clear that they were real military, drilled and trained, not some ragtag group that had stolen uniforms somewhere along the way. Elna could see that two of them were injured. One of the men had been shot either in the shoulder or the chest. He had fallen to his knees behind the line. One of the women in the line also had blood seeping out of a ragged hole at her hip. Others had visible bruises or scratches on their faces.
Norman walked up on Elna’s right side and stood beside her, arms crossed. Only Selene hung back—the smart one, clearly—and she’d knelt down and grabbed Sniffy by the collar to keep the dog from lunging forward. For a few tense seconds, the two groups stared at each other. Elna was hoping they would speak first so she could gauge them by the way they introduced themselves. But they seemed fully willing to wait it out. From somewhere, possibly in the water down below, she heard faint shouting, cries for help.
“Well, what do you say, boss?” Malin asked, his hand sliding toward his holster.
No more than thirty yards separated them—well within handgun range, and Malin wasn’t a bad shot. However, she could see that at least two of the Marines also had sidearms.
“Don’t draw first,” Elna said softly. “See what they do.”
“By the time they draw, it may be too late,” he replied under his breath.
“We’re not winning a gun battle with a bunch of Marines,” Elna said.
“Well, let’s at least let them know we’re armed.” He stepped forward, as if to present himself, but Elna grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
Do something, she thought in the direction of the Marines. Show me who you really are.
But they just stood there, still as statues. Only the injured man and the child were moving at all.
I’m more patient than you guys realize, Elna thought. Come on.
Dr. Ruzka had been standing there quietly, but she looked back at Elna now and shook her head. Then, turning back around, the doctor started marching toward the soldiers. As soon as she did, one of them drew his firearm, though he didn’t point it at her. Then Malin drew his.
“Oh, stop this,” the doctor said, putting a hand in the air. “I’m Dr. Samantha Ruzka,” she called out. “I’m here to treat your wounded. The people on this island are peaceful. There’s no need for a silly standoff.” She looked at Elna again over her shoulder, eyes wide, lips pressed tightly together. “Right?”
Instead of waiting for an answer, the doctor kept walked toward the Marines. Finally, the man who had drawn his sidearm holstered it and waved her over. As Elna hurried to catch up to them, she heard their conversation.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said. “We never know who to trust. What about those other people behind you?”
“They’re here to help, too,” she said. “We’re not a militia, gang, or criminal enterprise. This island is little more than a bed-and-breakfast, a resort. It’s, honestly, not a big deal. You’re safe on this side of the bridge.”
Would you please shut up about the island? Elna thought, but she bit her tongue. Better to put on a united front. The doctor had taken the initiative, and that was that. No sense trying to rewind the tape.
“Malin, put the gun away,” Elna said, as she started after the doctor. “What’s done is done.”
She heard him slide the gun into the holster, but she was walking fast trying to catch up to the doctor. Selene rushed up beside her, Sniffy tucked under her arm. The dog was sniffing frantically at the air and whimpering softly.
“He seems nervous,” Selene said, nodding at her dog, “but not aggressive. That’s a good sign.”
“I suppose,” Elna replied. “Is he a good judge of character?”
“Well, he always hated Dominic,” she noted.
The Marine who had spoken stepped forward, moving toward Dr. Ruzka. His “high and tight” hair was so blond it was almost white, and his neck was almost wider than his head. When he spoke, Elna noted that he had a rather thick Southern accent—as well as a dramatic gap between his incisors.
“Doctor Ruzka, we would appreciate your help,” he said. His voice was rough, scratchy, as if he’d done quite a bit of shouting at the top of his lungs in the last few hours or days. “We’ve got a couple of injured people over here. One of them is hurt real bad.”
Elna disliked the precedent being established here. The doctor’s boldness had made her appear to be the leader of the islanders. While she wasn’t power hungry by any means, Elna knew it might cause problems going forward, so she cleared her throat loudly and stepped up beside Dr. Ruzka.
“Folks, my name is Elna Pasqualee,” she said, extending her hand to the young soldier with the white hair. “My father and I own this island.”
“Staff Sergeant Damien Pridgen,” the man said, accepting her handshake. He had big hands, his palm so sweaty it felt like it was melting in her grip. “But you can call me Prig.”
Dr. Ruzka rushed to the side of the wounded man, kneeling down beside him. Selene set Sniffy down, then shuffled toward the doctor, reaching into her herb bag as she went.
“Uh…Prig.” Elna had to force herself to say the nickname. Is that really what the man wanted to be called? “What about your other people?”
“A few went in the water,” he said, moving toward the north shoulder of the road.
Elna followed him and leaned over the concrete parapet, gazing down into the rough waters of the bay. It didn’t take long to spot the others. Three people who’d gone in the water had managed to pull themselves onto the rocks at the base of the drawbridge support.
“They can climb up the same way Fish did,” Prig said, waving his hands over his head to draw their attention. “Speaking of which…” He shaded his eyes and gazed out across the water.
Elna followed his gaze and spotted the strange stripes of the wetsuit far out in the bay, but the swimmer was headed east, back toward the mainland.
“I take it that’s Fish,” Elna said. “Where the heck is he going?”
Despite everything, Prig la
ughed at this and clapped. “He’s swimming back to the other drawbridge, ma’am. The militia retreated when we crossed over. We’re going to raise the bridges again to keep them off the island.”
“You know the bay is infested with sharks, right?” Elna asked. “We’re on the northern end of the Red Triangle. It’s not safe, even with that weird design on his suit.”
“He’s a wild one, that Fish. Oh man. He’s not afraid of anything.” He turned to Elna and gave her a big gap-toothed grin.
“But, seriously, there are a lot of sharks in the bay,” she said again. “I don’t recommend what he’s doing.”
“Sharks should be afraid of Fish,” the Marine said. “Not the other way around. Don’t you worry. He’ll meet us on land later. Don’t worry about him. Come on. We’d better go.”
And with that, he turned and walked back toward the others who had gathered around the injured man.
What have we gotten ourselves into here? Elna wondered, and felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
The injured man’s name, Elna learned, was Specialist Antonio Flores, though Prig insisted on calling him Ant. He’d been shot low in his shoulder, and Dr. Ruzka seemed to think it was serious. She cleaned and dressed the wound as best she could, while Selene gave the Marine an herbal pill that was supposed to help with healing. Ant looked very young to Elna: thin and wiry, with a long face and big ears.
The injured woman was Specialist Katrina Meadows, but she apparently went by the nickname Cat. In fact, they all seemed to have little nicknames. A beast of a woman, she was all grit and muscle, even with a bullet wound in her hip. The doctor cleaned and bandaged her wound as well.
Prig and another Marine went into the service building, looking for a way to help the ones who had fallen into the water. The injured and others, including the child, started back down the causeway. Norman helped to support Ant, who seemed only half-conscious, unable to bear his own weight. Cat insisted on walking on her own, though she had a pronounced limp. Dr. Ruzka and Selene followed, letting Sniffy pad along beside them, which left Elna and Malin standing awkwardly outside the service building. Elna didn’t like the way the two groups were already breaking apart.
Island Refuge EMP Box Set | Books 1-3 Page 52