by Kit Tunstall
Feeling dizzy, Shane went around to the driver’s side and got in. The first aid kit under the seat had an assortment of products, and he sterilized the wound, hissing at the sting. Enduring the excruciating pain, Shane changed the flat tire, having to wipe the slow ooze of blood from his eye several times. After that, he started the vehicle and got back on the road. He was in search of a place where he could stop to clean the wound and figure out his next move.
Shane drove for more than an hour before coming across a small gas station and convenience store off the road. He pulled in without using his turn signal and stopped near the entrance. The keys were a reassuring weight in his hand when he put them in his pocket before getting out. Locking the doors behind him, he grasped the first-aid kit in one hand and his knife in the other, leaving his gun in its holster. It was empty after his wild firing spree, and he cursed the fact that he’d dropped his spare clip back at the Marsden farm. It was probably in the damned hayloft or barn. He’d lost it somewhere without even realizing it, which was a damned stupid mistake for a soldier with his training.
There was no door on the store, and he entered cautiously. A quick inspection revealed the place was picked over, but no one seemed to be hiding out or using it as a place to stay. Shane went to the backroom, finding the employee bathroom. It was disgusting, but it had a large mirror above the sink. The lighting was less than ideal, provided only by natural ambient light from the narrow window high on the wall, but he could see well enough to probe the wound with his finger.
Cursing aloud at the pain, he ran his finger over and into the wound, satisfied the bullet had passed up and through. If that bitch had been a quarter-inch to the left, or had a straighter aim, he would have been missing an eye, if not dead. “Fucking whore.” When he got Mina back, he was going to make sure Emme was dead. The thought was so pleasing that he got a bit of an erection from the image of driving his knife into Emme’s chest over and over.
Once he got control of the pain, his thoughts would crystallize, and he wouldn’t be so erratic. Shane spent more time cleaning the wound and dressing it before leaving the shitty bathroom to return to his vehicle. He didn’t bother looking through the store for anything usable, certain it had been picked clean long ago. What he wouldn’t give for some painkillers, or even a fifth of scotch.
With a sigh, he started the Humvee again, worried by the low tank level. If he didn’t find gas soon, he was going to be on foot. With the throbbing wound, the thought of each step jostling him made him groan.
*****
Shane slumped onto his side on the couch. The gas tank had hit empty two days ago, and he’d started walking. For a while, the pain hadn’t been as bad, but then it had flared again. When he’d found a mirror to examine the wound, he’d discovered it was inflamed and hot to the touch. Fucking infection was probably going to do him in.
He’d started searching houses that appeared uninhabited, hoping to locate some antibiotics. So far, he’d managed to find a small bottle of ibuprofen and the last three pills left over from a prescription for ear infection. He had no clue if they would actually help, but he’d taken them all eight hours apart, as directed.
He had found this two-story house that appeared to be deserted about an hour ago. It had taken a while to get inside, since it was locked. A rock through a window around the side had taken care of that when he’d exhausted his patience trying to force the dead bolt. Shane had managed a quick scout of the house, finding no evidence that pointed directly toward current habitation. There were two packs of ramen noodles in the cupboard, along with a can of peaches. He planned to make a meal of it, once his stomach settled.
For now, he was just resting on the couch, hoping he didn’t die from the fever raging through him. As much as his face hurt, maybe death wouldn’t be so bad. That would mean giving up on getting Mina back and on killing the bitch that had caused all this agony. He was determined to live just for that and clung to his goal as he slipped into a state somewhere between sleep and unconsciousness.
A noise woke him an undetermined time later. Shane opened his eyes to see someone bent at the waist, their face about a foot from his. Salt-and-pepper hair framed a craggy face framing cold black eyes.
“Someone’s been snooping in our house, and he’s still here.” The other man gave him a chilling grin. “Hello, Goldilocks.”
Fever was making him disoriented, but Shane had enough faculties left to ease his pistol from the holster. His body had slumped over in a way that obscured it until he brought it up. The man’s dark eyes flickered with uncertainty, and Shane cocked the weapon. It was only as he fired that he remembered he was out of ammunition, but had no time to contemplate what they’d do to him as he lost consciousness again.
*****
Shane woke again later, surprised to find himself stretched out on the couch and not restrained. His face hurt, but he had no pain elsewhere to suggest he’d been beaten while he was out. Slowly, he turned his head, his gaze immediately landing on the man he would have shot if he’d had a bullet.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty.” The man gave him a crooked grin.
“I’m still alive?” asked Shane in a raspy voice.
“You can thank Pardons for that.”
A moment later, a tall man appeared in Shane’s line-of-sight, saluting him casually.
“Pardons was a nurse before all this shit. I always thought male nurses were pansy-assed wimps—and Pardons hasn’t made me change my mind—but it was good to find someone with medical training.”
“How am I still alive?”
“Antibiotics,” said Pardons.
“We dipped into the stash for you, man,” said the other guy, as he dug into the can of peaches Shane presumed was the same one he’d planned to eat when his stomach settled.
“Why am I alive?”
“Les took a shine to you,” said Pardons before shining a light into his injured eye.
Shane cursed and turned his head. “Are you Les?” he asked the one he’d tried to shoot.
Les nodded. “Sure am.”
“Why then?” He looked at his holster, a bit surprised to see his gun still there. Of course, they all knew it was out of ammo now. “You’d have been dead if I’d had a bullet.”
Les nodded again. “Sure would’ve. In the world we live in, you need reliable folks at your back, prepared to do whatever it takes. One look into your eyes, and I knew you were a stone-cold killer. Thought we’d make you an offer you can’t refuse.”
Shane wanted to deny the allegation that he was a stone-cold killer, but then an image of Santiago flailing in the air, desperate for anything to stop his fall, assailed him. When he’d impulsively shoved the private out the window, he’d been filled with satisfaction. Now, the image left him more uncomfortable than pleased. “What’s the offer?”
“You can join us. More guns and useful hands make us all safer.”
It sounded close to what Janie Marsden had said, making him wince again. His life on the farm was gone now. He’d have to find a way to steal Mina from them, but there was no way they could reside there after the last confrontation. Plus, they’d surely frown on him killing Emme and then expecting to stay on.
In lieu of a better offer, or other options, Shane shrugged. “Why not?”
“Good. In that case, give him some more of the antibiotics, Pardons.”
Pardons nodded before leaving. When he returned a few minutes later, he had a syringe. Shane rolled up his sleeve, surprised by how weak that left him. “So, this is your house?”
“For now,” said Les. “Until we strip the area and move on.”
“That’s how you survive?” He kept his tone neutral, knowing he was in no position to judge.
“It’s been working for more than a year. When it became obvious the infrastructure was falling apart, and no one was going to ride to the rescue, we started doing what we had to. Picked up a few more folk along the way. You’ll meet them shortly.”
“H
ow big is your group?”
“Six right now. We lost a couple recently.” Les set aside the now-empty can, licking his fingers. “Seven with you.”
“What if the rest don’t want me to join you?”
Les chuckled. “You act like this is a democracy or something, man. You’re living in the Land of Les now. I’m the king.”
Shane didn’t like that idea one bit, but he didn’t argue. He was in no position to fight off even the two guys in the house right now. With the idea of four more coming back soon factored in, he might as well slit his own throat with the knife if he protested the hierarchy. “I’m a military man. I know how to follow the chain-of-command.”
“Kinda thought you might be. You got that look about you.” Les’s gaze moved to his wound. “What’s your story?”
Shane was reluctant to tell the other man about the farm. Having discerned Les was the kind of guy who took whatever he wanted, he couldn’t be assured Mina or his son would be safe if he persuaded this group to help him attack the Marsden place. “Had a group that disintegrated. Fighting and disagreements.” He almost touched his face, drawing back his fingers at the last minute. “Things escalated beyond words.”
“Hmm. Occupational hazard these days.” Les rubbed his stubbly chin. “That your Humvee we came across a couple days ago?”
Shane nodded. “Needs gas, but should work otherwise.”
“Yeah, we were pleasantly surprised to find that the case. We had a stash of gas, hoping we’d recover a vehicle that still ran, so it was a good find.” Les clapped his hands together once as the sound of a door opening reached them. “I have a feeling running across you has been a lucky thing…man, I don’t even know your name?”
“Shane West.” He didn’t bother with his old title. That was part of a dead world.
“Well, West, you know Pardons.” He gestured toward him. “Come meet the rest.”
Shane got up slowly, his head spinning a bit. He followed Les, determined not to show weakness. This group had a feel of jackals about it. If he showed blood, they wouldn’t hesitate to turn on him and rip him apart.
There were three men and a woman in the kitchen. He had to admit the woman surprised him, since they seemed like a predatory bunch. She sure didn’t have the air of a victim. When she embraced Les, who had to be old enough to be her father, some of the mystery resolved.
“This is Antaya, the love of my life,” said Les, kissing the shoulder of the lovely African woman who stood a half-foot taller than him. She was all long lines and lean angles, a sharp contrast to the shorter man’s paunchy gut. “Hands off.”
“You don’t have to warn him,” said Antaya. “Anyone who touches without my permission will find himself a hand—and more—short.” She traced a loving finger down the large knife sheath at her side, which probably shielded a serious weapon, judging from the handle.
“Ma’am.” He nodded respectfully.
“Then you got Hardy, Dingle, and Spam.”
“Dwight Ingle,” said the one identified as Dingle. He looked pained by his nickname. Shane nodded at him before looking at the one Les had called Spam.
“Spartan Amitoza,” said the one with curly black hair. “It’s Greek.”
“I guess I’m glad you’re calling me West,” said Shane with a small smile.
Les laughed. “It could always be worse, hey?”
Shane nodded, immediately thinking of Mina. It made his chest ache to know she was beyond his reach, at least for the time being. He had a hard time imagining things being much worse, but he didn’t offer a dissenting view to the madman who’d decided to spare him.
Chapter Thirteen
Mina hadn’t spoken a word in three days. The day after Shane had shot her mother, they’d buried Janie. She had stood by the grave, her gaze distant. At first, Coop had been sure she wasn’t with them at all and had no clue what was happening. That perception changed when the first shovel of dirt hit the sheet acting as her mother’s burial shroud. She’d let out a whimpering sound before falling silent again. He wanted to think it was an encouraging sign indicating maybe she was starting to come back to them, but he couldn’t cling to the hope for long, as the silence returned and lengthened.
He brought the tray back to the kitchen, finding Emme waiting for him with a look of concern. “She ate about half.” Mina would take a bite in her mouth if it was offered. She would chew and swallow, but she never looked at the person feeding her or made a sound.
“At least she’s eating.” She removed the dishes for washing and put the tray on the counter for the next meal.
“She’s just so quiet. It’s unnerving.”
Emme nodded. “It is strange, but I hope it’s her way of processing what’s happened, so she can start to heal. I think she’ll gradually come out of it. It’ll probably start with prolonged eye contact, but that’s just a guess.”
“I hope she starts talking soon.” Coop ran a hand through his hair, feeling discouraged and emotionally exhausted. “The silence is awful. Anything would be better. Even an occasional grunt would be welcome.”
He had cause to revise that opinion the next night, when the screaming started. She had maintained the same level of silence all day, though Emme had said she seemed to be looking around with more awareness. For his part, Coop hadn’t noticed much difference, other than a tiny gasp right before he left her that evening to bed down in the bunkhouse. The cold had forced him from the sun porch a couple of months ago.
He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep when the piercing screams jarred him into immediate alertness. Coop’s heart pounded in his chest, and he got to his feet quickly, hand going to his gun out of habit, only to remember the holster and pistol were on the hook at the head of the bunk bed.
“What’s that god-awful sound?” muttered Hector, before stuffing his head under the pillow in a clear attempt to block it out.
“The Marsden girl,” said Owen, at the same time Coop recognized her voice.
He still wore his pants, and his boots were unlaced and ready to go. Shoving his feet into them, he grabbed his gun and rushed to the house. From her screaming, he was half-expecting to find Shane in the midst of a kidnapping attempt when he burst into the farmhouse. No one was downstairs, so he followed the sounds of her screams to her room.
Her father stood outside the hallway, looking pained, as Kelly stood beside him with a hand on his arm. Coop nodded to them as he slipped into the room, finding Emme sitting beside her, trying to soothe Mina. The girl seemed unaware of her sister, but there was a moment of clarity when her gaze locked with his, and she ceased shouting.
After a long second, her eyes slipped out of focus, and the hoarse yells came from her again. His heart felt like it was breaking as he hurried to her. Acting on instinct, remembering all the nights she’d come to his bed for comfort, though he hadn’t known what monster plagued her then, he kicked off his boots and climbed onto the bed. Coop put his arms around her, and Mina immediately fell silent. She cuddled against him, her body trembling, but there was no more screaming.
After a couple of minutes, Emme slowly eased off the bed to allow them room to lie down. She looked worried. “I don’t know what to do for her,” she whispered. “If she had typical anxiety or depression, I’d know what herbs to try. But this silence…and the screaming…” She trailed off, looking exhausted and upset. “How do I help her, Cooper?”
Coop lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know. Why don’t you get some rest? I’m here, and it looks like she might go to sleep. I promise I won’t leave her until you come back in the morning.”
Emme gnawed on her full lower lip, looking temporarily indecisive before nodding. “Yeah, okay. I haven’t slept much the last few days. Since Mom…” Once again, she trailed off with a long sigh. “Thanks, Coop.”
He nodded. “No problem. I’m happy to do anything I can to help her.” If she needed him to hold her all night, it was certainly no sacrifice. Coop squirmed with guilt, knowing he owe
d her anything she needed from him and then some. There was no way he could ever make up to her that he had ignored her plea for protection and left her to her abuser’s mercy.
Emme slipped from the door, briefly visible talking to her dad and sister. Winn looked uncertain when he glanced inside the room, frowning at the sight of Coop holding his daughter. Coop didn’t feel even a smidge of compulsion to leave her, regardless of how her father felt about his presence. The door to the room closed a moment later, leading him to conclude Emme had persuaded her father of the necessity.
Mina had relaxed slowly against him, and the familiar weight of her body pressed against his brought a sense of relaxation he hadn’t experienced in weeks, or maybe even months. Her breathing deepened, indicating she had gone to sleep. Coop brushed his mouth lightly against her temple. “Sleep well, honey. I’ll watch over you.” Without thought, he tightened his arms around her until she shifted in her sleep, making him ease up. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anyone ever hurt you again.”
But how could he make up for the ways he’d hurt her? Coop knew that wasn’t the priority right now. He didn’t have to worry about making amends until she came back to them. If she came back. Right now, she seemed hopelessly lost, and he questioned whether she would ever be even a shadow of her pre-Shane self.
*****
Mina maintained her silence over the next few weeks, though she seemed calmer. After the second night of having to go to her room to stop her screams, Coop had started sleeping beside her each night from the start of the evening. To his and Emme’s relief, she no longer had episodes of screaming. Unfortunately, she often thrashed and whimpered in her sleep, and no amount of soothing could ward off those nightmares. Even Coop beside her seemed to do nothing to keep them at bay.
“She’ll have nightmares for a long time,” said Yu matter-of-factly as they discussed it several days later. She had taken to sitting with Mina for a good portion of the afternoon, often just chattering away about menial things, or helping Mina groom herself. “Valeria still wakes in a cold sweat nearly every night, a scream on her lips.”