The Search

by Darrell Maloney

  “Exactly. And the stragglers. And occasionally people like you guys who may just wander into town in need of medical care. Or looking for lost loved ones.”

  As if on cue, Stacey returned from the back of the building.

  “I’m afraid the news is mixed. I was hoping and praying that I’d find a hospital who had your wife, and could report that she’s in good shape and was asking for you. But I’m afraid none of the places I called has seen her.

  “That’s the bad news.

  “The good news is, I’ve ruled out several places for you, so you don’t have to waste your time going there. You can focus on other areas instead.

  “You can scratch Big Spring, Lubbock, O’Donnell and Tahoka off your list. All of them have hospitals or clinics, and none of them have seen her. I’ve given them your radio frequency and they’ll notify you if she’s brought in.

  “That’s pretty much all the medical centers north of us. You said you’ve already been to Eden. I talked to Brady and Smithville. Those are both south of Eden. And I talked to Johnsonville. They haven’t seen her either.”

  She smiled the sweetest smile, but the look on her face was one of sadness.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t locate her. I was hoping for better results.”

  Bryan took her hand.

  “Nonsense. You’ve saved me a lot of time and trouble. Now I won’t waste my time going to those places. And you’ve put the word out for me. You’ve been a great help, and I thank you.”

  Mike said, “If you boys want to drive out to the old Air Force base, I’ll make sure you get a good meal before you head back out.”

  Bryan looked at Bryan Too, who shook his head. “I’m not really hungry.”

  “Me neither. Thank you for the invitation, but we’ll have to take a raincheck.”

  “All right then. When you come back, take one of the Farm to Market roads and pass us by. Then come into town from the north. As I said, that way will be open soon. Follow the signs to Goodfellow Air Force and tell the sentries at the gate that you’re friends of mine.

  “Let’s go. I’ll escort you back to the outskirts of town where I met you.”

  They followed Mike back through the deserted streets of San Angelo, and Bryan was lost in his own thoughts. He was raised here. Had graduated from high school at San Angelo High. Now, in all likelihood, he was one of the last surviving members of his graduating class.

  Maybe even the only one.

  Just as they neared the point where they would wave goodbye to Mike Petty and part ways, Bryan noticed a small green and white sign on the side of the roadway.

  It was a sign he’d completely missed on his way into town.

  It was leaning after being sideswiped by somebody’s vehicle at some point in time. The letters on the old sign were faded but still legible.

  It said:

  San Angelo City Limit

  Population: 93,454

  Bryan had to reach up and wipe a tear from his eye.

  Chapter 20

  On the eighth floor of Wilford Hall Regional Medical Center the conversation had turned to Joel’s injuries.

  “Actually, I consider myself lucky,” he told Mark and Hannah. They told me that since both amputations were below the kneecap, it’ll be much easier for me to walk with prosthetic legs.

  “I’m also lucky in that Wilford Hall has some of the best people in the world when it comes to designing and fitting prosthetics. That’s a side effect of the United States being at war for pretty much my entire lifetime with one country or another. Apparently the military has gotten darn good at replacing lost limbs.”

  Hannah asked, “Are your Army days over?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. But that’s by my choice. They told me that if I wanted to stay in, they’d find me a nice cushy desk job somewhere. But if I can’t fly anymore, I think it would drive me crazy. Every time I heard a Huey or Apache overhead I’d get a sense of longing. I think it would be easier to be in a place where I didn’t hear them very often.”

  “Well, that couldn’t be here. They fly in and out of here all day long. Where would you go?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe back to Atlanta. I hear they’re going to start playing big league baseball next year. I guess that means the world is finally getting back to normal. I worked for the Braves for a while before I joined the Army and had a blast. It might be fun to do it again.”

  Mark asked, “They’re gonna start playing baseball again? Really?”

  “Yeah. Well, that’s the rumor I heard anyway. I heard they have enough survivors, and pulled enough guys up from the minor leagues, to fill out a team. Some of them are kind of long in the tooth by old standards, but they say they can still play. What I heard is that six other cities have been able to put together their own squads. And that they’re going to build a new league based on those teams and invite other expansion teams to join as other cities follow suit.”

  “Wow. It would be great to go watch a ball game again. It’s been so long…”

  “Well, if I do go back to Atlanta, it won’t be until next season, I’m afraid.

  “Even if they start up this year, the season is half over now, unless they play deep into the fall. And my doctors tell me I’ll be stuck here for at least four or five months. First to be fitted for my new legs, then for physical therapy to learn how to use them.

  “The physical therapists here are brutal, from what I’ve heard. But they work magic.”

  Hannah said, “I’ve lost track of her, but I used to have a good friend named Lynn who was a physical therapist. She told me once that she’d been called every name in the book by her patients. That they considered her the spawn of the devil, because she caused them so much pain. And because she expected so much of them. They said she pushed them unmercifully, even when they were exhausted and in pain.

  “But she also told me that nearly every single one of her patients came back to her at some point and thanked her for pushing them so hard.

  “Because at some point they realized that the harder they worked… the harder Lynn pushed them, the better off they were in the long run. The ones who fought through the pain and put forth the extra effort were more limber. They had a wider range in their movements and could manipulate their joints to a much greater degree.

  “The smart ones realized that Lynn wasn’t the devil’s spawn after all. She was actually an angel without wings. Their best friend instead of their worst nightmare.”

  “Yeah, I know that. Deep down inside, that is. But knowing it is the easy part. Accepting it when they make me bend my knee so far it brings tears to my eyes is a little harder.”

  “Oh, Joel… you helped me get through the toughest two days of my life. I saw you drag a crushed leg and a missing leg across hard ground a hundred yards just to bring me a bottle of water. You’re the last person I’d think was afraid of a little bit of pain.”

  The words were just what he needed to assume the hero role again.

  “You’re right, sweet Hannah. I am oblivious to pain. For I am… Superman.”

  “I don’t believe I said that, exactly. But okay. If you say so.”

  The nurse standing behind Joel had heard enough.

  “Speaking of that, Superman… it’s time to go change your dressings. Unless you’re going to fly us back to your room, I’m going to wheel you back now. Say your goodbyes.”

  Joel shook Mark’s hand and blew Hannah a kiss.

  “So long, you two. I’ll see you later.”

  Chapter 21

  As soon as Joel was out of sight, Hannah started her appeal.

  “Mark, we can’t let him go back to Atlanta.”

  “Why not? He said he had a job lined up back there. Working for a professional baseball team. What a cool job. Maybe I’ll go with him.”

  “That’s just it. He’s going back for a job. That’s all he’d have in Atlanta. A flippin’ job. No family. He lost everyone he loved in the freeze or in the plague. You heard him say that
all his other crew members, including Colonel Montgomery, were all alone too. That’s what banded them together. He said the other aircrews called them the ‘orphan crew.’ Because each of them had no one. Then they had each other. They became a family together.

  “And now they’re gone too. He’s all alone, all over again. What good is a flippin’ job if you have to go home to an empty house every night?”

  “Hannah, I’m sorry for his predicament. But we can’t keep him here against his will. And we can’t adopt him. He’s too old.”

  “Who says we can’t adopt him? I don’t mean we as a couple. I mean we as a group of people. The people back at the compound. We adopted Frank Woodard and Eva. We adopted Glenna and her children. We adopted Roxanne and Rachel. Now all of them… the Woodards and Glenna’s family, and Roxanne and Rachel, are part of us now. They’re as much a part of the group as you and I are. Why can’t we adopt Joel like we did the others?”

  “Honey, I like Joel. I liked him the moment I met him. He’s a smartass, just like me. I get his sense of humor because it’s similar to my own. And I know he’s in a very tough spot. But you’re forgetting something.

  “Yes, when you found out Saris 7 was going to hit the earth, we, you and me, came up with the idea to hide everybody in the salt mine. But when we did, we went in front of everyone and told them that didn’t make us any more important than anyone else. It didn’t give us any more authority than anyone else. We agreed that all important decisions would be made as a group. That everyone would have an equal vote, and an equal chance to argue for or against whatever we were voting for.

  “And besides, you and I both know that if Joel joined us he’d work full time trying to get into your pants. And, by the way, the pants of every other woman in the compound.”

  Hannah laughed.

  “Tell me honestly, Big Sailor. Do you think I’d ever let Joel into my pants?”

  “No.”

  “Then you have nothing to worry about. And as for the other women in the compound, some of them are single. And Joel is a good looking and charming guy. They just might enjoy Joel’s advances. And maybe a new romance would blossom.

  “I mean, Glenna fell in love with Marty. Why couldn’t it happen again?”

  “Maybe I just don’t want to have to watch him like a hawk.”

  “Oh, stop it. Either you trust me or you don’t. And if you do, which you should because you know damn well I’d never cheat on you… then you don’t have to watch him at all. You can just rely on me to keep him in check.”

  “We still can’t make that decision. We are the ones who put the group’s government into place, and we can’t just change it whenever the mood suits us.”

  “Honey, you know as well as I do that everyone in the compound has a heart bigger than the state of Texas. They took Glenna in because she and her kids had nowhere else to go. They did the same with Frank and Eva.

  “And they’ll do the same with Joel. Especially when they hear what a hero he was.

  “The man saved my life. I wouldn’t be here talking to you right now if he hadn’t put his own life in peril to save mine. Little Markie would be motherless and you’d be a widower. The least I can do is give him a place to go. Give him a new family. Surround him with people who will care for him and watch out for him.”

  “Honey, I told you I liked him too. I didn’t say I didn’t agree with you. I just pointed out that it’s not our decision to make.

  “I’ll tell you what… let me go back to the compound and discuss the matter with the group. I can’t imagine anyone objecting after they hear what he did for you. So I expect it to be a unanimous vote. But we have to go through the motions, even when we know it’s just a formality.”

  “Thank you, honey. I love you so much.”

  “Hey, don’t thank me yet. There’s something you have to do for me.”

  “What?”

  “I want you to give our friend Mr. Romeo a message. I want you to tell him that if he comes to live with us in the compound, I will indeed watch him like a hawk. And if he starts chasing you too vigorously, I will hide his legs.”

  Chapter 22

  Sarah regained consciousness on her third night of captivity.

  She was lying on an upstairs four poster bed, completely naked. Her legs were free, as was her right hand.

  Her left hand, though, was bound around the wrist by a handcuff, which was secured to the bed post.

  She was puzzled. The room was darkened, but the light from the full moon outside allowed her to see around her. Nothing looked familiar to her at all.

  The bound left arm was causing her pain. She’d laid for many hours in the same position. She rolled to her left to take some of the stress off the arm, and found that by being closer to the bed post she could bend her elbow. That seemed to help.

  She noticed as she turned that the bed was covered in plastic sheeting. It was cold and damp beneath her body and she shivered. She wondered for a moment why the smell of urine permeated the room. But her mind wasn’t able to connect the dots.

  On the night table were seven bottles of water. Five of them appeared to be empty. At least they looked that way in the moonlight. Only two of the bottles had caps.

  Had someone been giving her sips of water while she slept? She couldn’t remember.

  She thought about calling out, but was too weak.

  So instead she laid there and studied the bottles of water.

  She was incredibly thirsty. And her mind was a fog. She didn’t know where she was.

  Or who she was.

  Her new position on the bed eased the pain in her arm.

  The pain was what woke her up. Now that it wasn’t as strong, she was able to relax.

  She closed her eyes again. She was so very tired.

  As Nathan Martel walked up the stairs to check on her, she drifted back to sleep.

  Martel opened the door and turned on the light, startling her awake again.

  For the first time, he was able to see her pretty brown eyes.

  “Well, lookie there. Look who woke up.”

  He smiled. But it wasn’t a smile of benevolence. It was a smile of satisfaction. He hadn’t killed his prey after all. She’d be of some use to him.

  She was damaged, but not destroyed.

  Sarah wasn’t angry.

  She didn’t know that this was the man who’d harmed her.

  She hadn’t a clue that he was the one who’d stripped her naked and taken her away from her home against her will. Away from those who loved her. Who were desperately searching for her.

  She didn’t know any of that.

  The last thing she remembered was picking flowers in the forest.

  Flowers for… who, or what, she didn’t know.

  “Hello,” she called out to the big man in front of her. “Can you help me? I can’t move my arm. Someone tied it to the bed.”

  Instead of complying, Martel asked his own question.

  “What’s your name?”

  “I… I don’t know. Who are you? Are you my husband?”

  He laughed, thinking she was kidding.

  Then he saw something in her face. Something that told him she was serious. And there was something else too. Something she didn’t do. She didn’t scream as he expected her to. She didn’t appear to be afraid or angry about being handcuffed to a bed completely naked.

  She just seemed confused and puzzled.

  “Are you serious? You don’t remember your own name?”

  She put her free hand on the bridge of her nose and pinched it slightly, as though that would miraculously bring her memory back.

  “No… wait a minute. I’m sure it will come to me. How did I get here? Why am I handcuffed? Was I bad?”

  Chapter 23

  Nathan Martel was a master manipulator. That was how he’d gotten his victims to trust him enough to let their guards down.

  Prostitutes were by nature a suspicious lot. They had to be, to keep from getting beaten u
p or robbed, or both. But for each of his murder victims, Martel had won their trust. He played an innocent, who’d never been with a woman before. Who asked an endless series of questions about how things worked, and came off as a rather nerdy nice guy.

  It had been a game to him. Some men fished or played sports. Other men hunted or played cards.

  When Martel went fishing, he did it in seedy hotel rooms. When he went hunting, it was for human prey.

  Most of the hookers saw through his ruse and walked out or told him to get screwed. And then they walked out, as he called out behind them, “That’s kind of why I’m here.”

  Then he’d laugh uproariously, as though he was incredibly clever. He’d chalk off the loss as just one who’d gotten away and go back to playing his game. There were plenty of other hookers, he’d reason. He’d polish his act, modify his behavior and then try again.

  Every once in a while… seventeen times over three years and seven states… he’d get a fish on the line and reel her all the way in.

  The prostitutes he murdered were usually tired and not on their own best game. Or it was late for her to be out. Three or four in the morning. Things were slow that night, and she had to hustle even harder to satisfy her pimp’s lust for money.

  Those were the factors which, when added together, caused the hookers to get sloppy.

  Sloppy enough to take their eyes off of their john.

  Not for a long time. Just long enough for him to sneak behind them and wrap his fingers around their necks.

  Martel had huge hands. Hookers commented on them all the time.

  For seventeen of them, those huge hands proved to be their undoing. For they were not only huge, they were powerful as well.

  Powerful enough to squeeze the life from their bodies, leaving them as little more than rag dolls, piled on the floor at Martel’s feet.

  Yes, Nathan Martel had been supremely successful in getting suspicious women to trust him. It was his only hobby, and an interest which pleased him immensely.