by Ariel Bonin
"I'm sorry, but he needs to be here. I won't have you end up like my mom… We're completely alone and I'm in over my head. I'm really sorry, but this is how it is supposed to be—with my dad here next to you."
Silent tears escaped from the woman's eyes and rolled down her cheeks at a slanted angle. "Okay," she said at last.
When Zoey spun around to leave, Lindsey grabbed for her hand and held it as tightly as she could. When she spoke the words, she felt as if she were speaking them to her own daughter. "I love you, Zoey."
The girl, looking more like a young woman that day, clasped her hand and said with a slight smile, "I love you, too."
_____
Andrew and Charlie walked with careful steps and watchful eyes as the smears of blood led them to the clinic's front doors. The two men traded a glance and then proceeded into the building. They both kept their footfalls light, following the trail until it stopped at a closed exam room door. Their heads snapped up when voices exploded from inside.
"Vicky, you said you wouldn't hurt her! It was the only thing I asked you to do for me!"
"Hey! That pregnant bitch needed to get it! It's not my fault—"
The woman didn't get to finish. Andrew experienced a surge of blinding anger and fear at the mention of his wife and kicked the door open. Victoria and Will reached for their guns, but Andrew and Charlie knocked the weapons away, disarming them. Victoria sat on the exam table in a slick patch of blood, which leaked from a serious stomach wound.
Andrew advanced on her and withdrew his Beretta. "Did you kill Lindsey? Because if you fucking did—" he raged through gritted teeth, pressing the cold barrel into her cheek.
"Andrew, she's fine—or was the last time I saw her," Will said as Charlie kept the combat rifle trained on him.
Andrew didn't remove his gun from Victoria's face but pointed a snarl at Will. "You and I both know she's not fine! None of this is fine!"
Will closed his eyes and dropped his shoulders on a sigh.
"I want some answers," Andrew said to the former New Canaan resident. "I already know about your group passing through Victoria's town, that you got here a week after us, and how you've been sneaking around like the coward that you are. Now, tell me something I don't know."
"When I met Vicky, she was curious as to where I was going. When I told her about New Canaan, she offered me a deal instead: If I got her on the island—and to Lindsey of course, once she found out your wife was here—I'd have a seat next to her and everything I'd ever need: food, water, shelter, a woman in my bed…"
"You already had that here with no cost and good people—why risk it for this demented bitch? What good is her word?"
"I'd made a deal and she seemed good for it. New Canaan had promise, Andrew, but you were barely holding it together. And Hannah…she was the only person I cared about here." He rubbed his weary face and pointed a regretful look at Andrew, which the man didn't give two shits about.
"Well, I was aiming for his old lady," Victoria began, referring to Lindsey, "but Hannah got in the way. Collateral damage, if you ask me. Think I got your little girl, though," she said to Andrew with a sneer.
Will lunged at the injured woman, breaking Andrew and Charlie out of their angered state of shock.
"And yer gonna get what's been comin' since the day you two assholes crossed paths…" Charlie announced, raising the front of his rifle. With a sharp crack, one of his rounds pierced Will's back. The man fell against the counter as he weakly grasped at the exit wound in his chest. Sliding to the floor, he let out a shuddering cough. Flecks of blood dotted his lips, and, with one final wheeze, he died.
After releasing a satisfied grunt, Charlie unsnapped his knife and jabbed it through the dead man's ear.
"Well, that was fucked up," Victoria said. "And you called me demented..."
Andrew focused his dangerous gaze onto the poor excuse for life who had murdered Hank, Hannah, Nicholas, Bill—indirectly, and so many others. Not to mention, she'd tried to kill Zoey, Lindsey and their unborn child.
"You haven't seen nothin'," Andrew said, his lips curling back in vengeance. He yanked Victoria off the exam table and she shouted in pain. Andrew forced her to her knees and looked down at her as white-hot anger blurred his vision. Without another word, he reached across his torso and unsheathed the knife at his hip. He thought of Hank as he imparted that same fate on Victoria—exactly the way she had carried it out on the other man. When she hovered on the brink of unconsciousness, he secured his hand around her neck and lifted her far enough off the ground to slam her against the wall. Blood dribbled down her bottom lip in a steady stream as he watched the life fade from her cold eyes. After a final stab from his knife into her brain, he released his grip on her neck and she collapsed to the floor.
About a minute passed and Charlie laid a hand on Andrew's heaving shoulder, making the crimson-covered man flinch. With dark, haunted eyes, they acknowledged that he had just gone a lot further than either of them could have anticipated.
"You good?" Charlie asked, holding out a towel from the clinic's supplies.
Andrew accepted it with a curt nod, though they both knew he was lying. He probably should have shown Victoria mercy as a prisoner instead of stooping to her level, but it was over and done with. Right now he didn't have time to dwell on what he should have done instead. All he could do was dab at the blood near his eyes and attempt to wipe off his stained hands.
Charlie moved to the doorway and glanced down the empty corridor. "Caren and the fam should be in the bunker by now. I told them to head that way when things started to get fishy. So now we gotta find Lindsey and the kids. If Victoria was right about 'em comin' this way, then where are they?"
"I'm hoping they turned around," Andrew said, and took a deep breath as his adrenaline came crashing down. His hands shook as he rubbed them with the soft cloth.
After tossing the towel aside, he adjusted the M4 on his back and leaned over to pick up Will and Victoria's guns. As he reached for the second one, his hand paused in mid-air. Slowly, he moved to touch the Glock's marred grip and knew immediately that it was Lindsey's—he'd seen it enough times to know. Picking it up now, he held the weight of it in both hands, wondering if she'd even want it back once she found out that it had killed Nicholas and probably many other innocent people.
But I'll let her decide that, he thought as he tucked the weapon into the band of his dark jeans.
_____
After Zoey had gone to find her dad, Lindsey took a minute between contractions to get as comfortable as possible. Moving slowly, she adjusted the pillows and a couple of towels across the white comforter. It would probably be destroyed by the end of the birth anyway, but she thought it would be more sanitary to start out this way. Luckily she'd chosen to wear a dress that day so the only thing she needed to remove was her underwear.
Another contraction started to build and she returned to her original position on her side. Tendrils of pain stemmed out from her stomach and hips, making her thighs shake with endless tremors. She squeezed her eyes shut and cried out as she clutched the pillow beneath her head.
She was suddenly aware of the squeak of their screen door opening and heavy footsteps on the living room's wooden floor. Her heart flipped inside her chest at the thought of it being Andrew, but something didn't seem right—it didn't sound like him.
Erring on the side of caution, she eased her unsteady legs off the mattress and picked up her knife on the nightstand. She sneaked across the room and held her breath as she waited by the doorway.
_____
Andrew and Charlie had only traveled about a hundred yards from the clinic before coming across another fallen comrade—Phil. His body lay in the middle of the dirt path and his gun was nowhere in sight—probably stolen by one of Victoria's men. Bullet holes peppered his chest and head, which answered how he'd died and why he didn't reanimate.
Andrew lifted his head with a sigh and spotted another body up ahead. He stepped aroun
d Phil to investigate, but knew who it was before he even got there. The young woman's red hair was matted with gore and he hesitated to turn her over.
"That Hannah?" Charlie asked in a low voice from next to him.
He nodded and then allowed his gaze to wander around, inspecting their surroundings for any sign of his daughter or Lindsey. The area to their right seemed disturbed with broken twigs and scuffs in the dirt. He noticed a few leaves with dark smudges and reached over to touch one. When he pulled his hand away, blood shone on his fingertips. "I think Victoria was right about hitting Zoey…" he whispered, hating to even speak the words.
"Or maybe it wasn't her," Charlie replied.
Andrew glanced at the other man. He appreciated Charlie's effort to lift his spirits, but to know that the injured person could be Lindsey—or even Jacob—did not help him feel better in the least bit. "We gotta find them."
Charlie walked a few steps ahead and gestured to a partial bloody shoe-print. "Whoever it was went this way…"
"Well, then, let's go," Andrew said as anxiety tightened in his chest and wore his patience thin.
They took off toward the dining pavilion, keeping their weapons ready for any immediate threat. All was quiet though as the two men emerged by the picnic tables and stopped to find out why.
Numerous bodies littered the ground, along with shell casings and dark pools of blood. The sharp aroma of gunpowder and copper hung in the air. Andrew lowered his gun as he looked upon the faces of those who had trusted him to keep them safe—a man who had given them hope in a hopeless time.
He'd failed them.
The thought sat like a brick in his stomach and constricted around his aching heart. He should have done more to prevent this—they should have been ready. Instead, he'd given these people a false illusion of safety and made them sitting ducks.
Charlie nudged the boot of a young man lying in an unnatural position. Rivers of dried blood had formed on the dead man's chin, signaling some kind of internal damage. "It's Zach…that kid from Zoey's class."
Andrew remembered the troublemaker, but he hadn't deserved this.
The sudden crack of a gunshot startled Andrew and Charlie, making their heads swivel to the nearest trail opening. One of Victoria's men stood there but quickly fell forward, revealing the girl behind him.
"Zoey!" Andrew shouted, and ran toward her.
Zoey holstered her gun and stepped over the dead man to hug her dad. After a quick embrace, Andrew touched her bloody arm. "Did Victoria do this?" he asked, his blue eyes flashing with anger.
She nodded. "I knew I'd seen her before… It's just a graze, though. I'm okay."
As Charlie removed the bandana from his back pocket and tied it around Zoey's arm, Andrew asked, "Where are Lindsey and Jake?"
Zoey's gaze darkened and her features became taut, making Andrew fear that something bad had happened to them. "Lindsey's having the baby. I left Jake with her so I could find you." When Andrew's eyes widened, she was quick to add, "It was just like Mom! I couldn't go through that again!"
"Where?" he asked, ignoring her explanation—even though he understood. "Where did you leave them?"
"At our house!"
Andrew didn't waste another second and took off at a full sprint on the path toward their bungalow, with Zoey and Charlie trailing behind.
Chapter 27
Lindsey heard the footsteps just outside of her room, but when Jacob began to coo and talk from his pack-n-play, they stopped—as did Lindsey's ragged breaths. She glanced at the babbling boy and put a finger over her mouth in a gesture of silence, but knew Jacob wouldn't understand anyway. She caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye and swung her knife, stabbing it into the left shoulder of an unknown man. With bleach-blond hair and blue, wrinkle-free eyes, she would have guessed that he was in his early twenties.
Even though she'd managed to wound the young man and make him drop his weapon, he let out an aggressive growl of pain and reached for her neck. He wrapped his fingers around the fragile column and squeezed, closing off her airway in a single movement. She grabbed at his arm with both hands and tried to pry his fingers away but the effort was useless. He slammed her against the wall and she released an "oomph" as the breath was pushed from her chest.
Changing her approach, she reached for his eyes in an attempt to gouge one or both out. She was only able to scratch his cheek though, before he pulled his head back out of her reach. The world became hazy with shadows, and, to make matters worse, she could feel another contraction coming on. Jacob's distressed cries registered somewhere below the ringing in her ears. She longed to comfort him and wished with every part of her that it wouldn't end like this.
Right when Lindsey thought she was going to black out and say goodbye to the world she'd come to know—and accept—the man froze, his eyes glazing over. Immediately, he released his grasp on her neck and she sucked in as much air as she possibly could, becoming dizzy in the process. She fell to her knees as the room spun. He landed with a thud next to her, blood gushing from a gap in his skull.
Two slender arms reached down to help the pregnant woman to her feet and over to the bed. Lindsey was overjoyed to discover that Ana—and her hatchet—had been her savior.
"Thank—" Lindsey began, but broke into a coughing fit. She tried to clear her throat and said in a hoarse voice, "Thank you."
Ana kept her hands on either side of Lindsey's arms and searched the woman's gaze. "Are you all right?"
Lindsey continued to catch her breath and closed her eyes briefly. "I've been better. The baby—"
"Wait…" Ana whispered, turning her right ear toward the door.
Lindsey tried to quiet her breathing and was now aware of someone else coming up the front steps, but faster this time. The screen door ripped open and a familiar voice called out, "Lindsey?"
Air rushed out of her as overwhelming relief flooded her entire body.
"In here!" Ana yelled.
Tears shimmered in Lindsey's eyes when Andrew strode through the doorway of their bedroom.
His appearance was somewhat shocking, as he was completely covered in blood, but he looked unharmed and that was all that mattered. He rushed across the room, stepping over the dead man and past Ana to circle his arms around her and hold her tightly against him. She clutched his back as he wound his hands into her damp, knotted hair.
"Oh, God, Linds, I'm so glad you're okay," he whispered at her ear, and then pressed a hard kiss to her lips.
"Did Zoey find you?" she asked. Her voice sounded like it had been dragged through sandpaper.
"She did. She and Charlie are right behind me."
As Andrew said that, they entered the room. Charlie began to assist Ana with lifting the body off the floor to take it outside, while Zoey hurried over to her fussing brother. She picked him up and cradled him against her shoulder, all the while speaking soft, comforting words.
"Andrew, what's happening—?" Lindsey didn't get to finish her question about the island's sudden attack because another contraction started to build and the acuteness of it took her breath away. She tried her controlled breathing, but all she could do was groan in pain.
Andrew helped her ease back onto her side and said, "Don't worry about what's going on—just focus on having this baby. We've got the situation under control now. Charlie and Ana are covering the outside. You're safe here, okay?"
When Lindsey was able to, she nodded.
"All right, just hang tight—I need to wash up first," Andrew said, and then walked into the bathroom. He returned a minute later looking much cleaner and carrying a couple of extra towels. "How are you doing? Do you feel like you need to push?"
With a permanent grimace on her face, she said breathlessly, "Yeah, I think so."
_____
Andrew used a towel to wipe his hands and glanced at his daughter. "Hey, Zoey, I'm going to need your help for a few minutes."
"Okay," she said, placing Jacob in his pack-n-play onc
e more. "What do you need me to do?" Even though she sounded eager to help, her young face was anxious and hesitant.
"First, we have to get Lindsey a little closer to the edge of the bed. When I get her there, I need you to prop up all of the pillows behind her, okay?"
Zoey nodded and began to snatch up each pillow as Andrew helped Lindsey shimmy toward the bottom of the mattress. When she was there, Zoey stuffed the pillows behind her back and neck.
"Great," Andrew said. "Now go into the kitchen and get scissors and two pieces of string."
When Zoey was gone, Lindsey parted her legs and Andrew draped a thin blanket over her bent knees. He wanted to help her keep as much of her privacy intact as he could. The poor woman was giving birth in her bedroom without a doctor or single piece of medical equipment—definitely not an ideal situation. He supposed some women had done that before with midwives, but those people had had the option of going to the hospital if things went south—Lindsey didn't. Her and their baby's life rested in his hands. The pressure on him had never been higher than it was at that very moment. The last thing he wanted was a scene like the one he'd witnessed in the neighborhood on their way to New Canaan—he would do everything in his power to avoid that.
Zoey came back with the requested items and handed them to her dad. Andrew set them aside on the bed and watched Zoey move to stand by Lindsey's head. The girl reached down and gripped her hand, receiving a weak smile from the pregnant woman.
Andrew met Lindsey's tired gaze and said with a sigh, "Whenever you're ready."
"Okay," she whispered, taking in deep gasps of air.
At the start of the next contraction, she tucked her chin to her chest and started to push. She clenched her teeth and then hissed out a shuddering breath. They repeated that for three more contractions, but nothing changed.
"You're doing great, honey," Andrew said as he stroked the outside of her leg.