Talia took a breath and reassessed her situation. Thankfully, the exit wound wasn’t the ugly kind. The bullet had passed through without much time to mushroom. The resulting exit wound was more of a flap of skin than the craters portrayed in movies. She’d have to look later to make sure there was no debris or fabric in the wound, but right now her priority was simple: stop the bleeding.
Another dressing and the exit wound was covered.
Now it was on to the tough one.
First thing’s first, Talia thought. She applied another pressure bandage and watched, dismayed as it bled through in spite of the pressure she applied.
She was losing more blood than she’d initially thought.
There was one other option before she resorted to using her belt as a tourniquet. In another sealed plastic package was a roll of non-woven combat gauze that was impregnated with a clotting agent. Older versions created an exothermic reaction and actually burned the wound, but this was a little different. It wouldn’t burn, but using it would still hurt incredibly.
Talia’s fingers were sticky with blood as she struggled to open the package. She could feel her strength fading and had a difficult time keeping her hands from shaking now that the adrenaline rush had faded. Finally, the packaging gave, and a roll of gauze popped out. The instructions were simple: unroll the bandage and stuff it entirely into the wound. There was a risk, she knew, that the bandage would push the fragmented bullet deeper into her leg, causing further injury. But this was still her best option; the other choice was to tie a tourniquet, but if she did that and then lost consciousness, chances were good that she’d kill the leg. There would have been no way to deal with an amputation in conditions like these.
She took a length of rubber tubing from the kit, slipped it between her teeth, and bit down hard as she slowly and methodically pushed the gauze into the wound. With every push, a bubble of blood would seep around her fingers, spilling out into the open air. With every push, she gasped in pain so severe she almost wished she were giving birth. Almost.
Unroll. Push. Wipe.
Breathe. Repeat.
Talia thought the roll would never end, but eventually it did. She was finished. She reapplied a sterile bandage over the wound site in order to keep out any further debris, then once again placed pressure on her thigh. It was an awkward angle, and she was tired. Very tired.
“Baby. Mommy might take a nap. I’m going to be ok, thanks to your help. I just need a rest. Go sit with your brother and wait for me to get you, okay?”
Talking was difficult, and her thoughts were becoming muddled, and hard to organize. She didn’t really know if she was going to be ok. She just didn’t want her daughter to worry.
Even as she spoke her vision faded, from widescreen to tunnel vision, to a single pinpoint speck of light.
Juliana hugged her mother tightly, and whispered something in her ear, something urgent that couldn’t wait.
Talia wasn’t able to process her daughter’s question, though; in truth she didn’t really even hear it.
As the vestiges of self-awareness winked out, a burst of neurons brought forth one last thought. The revolver her daughter used only had two unspent rounds in its cylinder.
Who’d fired the third shot?
Chapter 3 – Paradise Interrupted
Thom Monroe was truly happy. He watched as Carla blew bubbles for Molly and Emily using a wire coat hanger she’d found in the closet. The girls laughed, their giggles carrying on the wind. It sent his spirits soaring. There’d been too little joy in these last few days.
Carla was wonderful with the girls, and Thom could tell that she must have been an excellent teacher. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering what kind of mother she’d have made if things had been different. He brushed the thought aside, and continued to watch the girls play. The only evidence he’d thought it was the blush it had left on his cheeks.
He laughed again as Anna joined in the fun, hoisting Molly onto her shoulders. The two chased down an errant bubble, popping it at last.
“Me next! Me next!” Emily said, clamoring for a turn on Anna’s shoulders. Without waiting, the little girl scrabbled for purchase, finding a handhold on Anna’s waist. She pulled herself up about a foot off of the ground before Anna lost her footing and the three of them tumbled into a nearby pile of hay.
They erupted in a laughter so pure that Thom couldn’t help but be caught up in it himself. He laughed until his side hurt and tears streamed from his eyes. When at last the laughed faded, a smile had etched itself firmly onto his face, so strong and wide that it made his cheeks hurt.
“Having fun?” Carla asked, her crooked grin shining brightly. He liked the way she looked, face flushed and slightly sweaty. It reminded him of life.
“Oh yes. Very much so.”
“Good. I’m glad you made it outside this afternoon. I was starting to think you didn’t like us.” She said it with a smile, but Thom’s heart jumped just a bit.
“I… I was just resting. I enjoy spending time with all of you.”
“That’s very diplomatic of you, Thomas Monroe.” Her voice was crisp and cool, like the basket of last season’s apples they’d been munching on since their arrival.
Thom opened his mouth to speak, but found that Carla had stolen his words. She just smiled her impish grin, hopped up, and began to play again.
Thom thought about his wife, Sarah, about what she’d have wanted for him, before a voice interrupted him.
“She’s nice, you know.”
It was Anna, she’d sat down next to him, taking a break from the revelry.
“Hmm?”
“Carla. She’s nice.”
Thom smiled at his daughter, “She is, isn’t she?”
In his periphery Thom could see his daughter nod as they sat and watched the little ones play with their teacher.
“She’s a lot like mom.”
Thom felt himself start to nod, and cut the action off short. He glanced over at Anna and found her looking at him intently, with a straight face and a question in her eyes. He smiled and put his arm around her. “It’s not like that, Anna. You’re the only girl for me.”
“I don’t have to be. Mom said…” This time is was her turn to cut her words short.
Thom’s interest was piqued. “Mom said what, Anna?”
“Can’t tell, Daddy. It’s not time.”
Thom wanted to chase the question. Indeed, he was tempted to force it out of his daughter through tickle torture, something he hadn’t done since she was little. In the end though, he let it go.
“I think I understand. Tell me when it’s time?”
Anna nodded, rose, and kissed her father on the forehead.
“Where are you off to?” Thom asked.
“Work to be done. It’s my turn to guard the gate. Don’t worry,” she said, seeing the look of concern on her father’s face, “I won’t be alone, and I’ll be armed. Matt taught us how to shoot.”
Thom nodded. “Be safe.”
Anna’s smile lit up Thom’s world. “Always,” she said before jaunting down the trail.
The gravel drive was in need of some repair, having been washed out by some of the recent spring storms. Large ruts carved their way through the path, exposing the earth to the air. The first round of weeds had begun to germinate, ready to fill any vacuum. It would be awhile before they’d receive any shipments of good clean rock to repair it.
It wasn’t long before the gate came into sight. It was an old gate made of steel tubing, designed to keep cars and trucks from turning into the driveway after the farm had closed in the evening. It was painted yellow for visibility and secured with a hefty padlock.
“Anna! It’s about time you join us.” Bruce said, his words thick with sarcasm.
By her best estimate she was 10 minutes early. “Yeah yeah, Bruce. I’m sure you just hated spending the time alone with your girlfriend.” Anna smiled, and turned to Trinity. “Hey Trin.” Both of their faces were flush. Whether it was from the heat or some other activity, she didn’t care to speculate.
Trinity waved casually, smiling at her friend, and Anna couldn’t help but give a little giggle. The circumstances sucked, but she was so happy to have found this group of friends.
“Tag out?” Trinity asked, sliding the strap of her rifle from her shoulder to hand to Anna.
Anna nodded, “Tag out,” she said, sliding the rifle onto her own shoulder.
“See you later, Bruce.” Trinity said, leaning down for a quick kiss.
“Later, babe.” He replied in turn.
Anna slid the rifle around to her front and plunked herself into one of the empty lawn chairs they’d dug out of Mrs. Jackson’s basement. “Anything happen?”
Bruce picked up a clipboard and handed it to Anna. “Squirrel. Squirrel. Rabbit. Squirrel. Bruce, this sounds like the diary of a dog.”
Bruce shrugged and slid further into his chair. “Not a lot going on, but we need to show Herbie we’re paying attention,” he said as he pulled his baseball hat down over his eyes. “Spell me for a bit?”
Anna nodded. It wasn’t like they were going to miss anything.
Soon Bruce’s breathing changed, and Anna could tell me was asleep. Time passed, and she grew bored. She entertained herself by marking the passage of time by watching the sun move through the trees. When she was younger, she and a girlfriend had watched some survival show where the very handsome host (“That accent…ohmygod.”) said something about tracking the time until sunset by measuring the number of hand spans between the sun and the horizon. Every finger was 15 minutes.
If that was right, and hour and a half had passed. It was time to wake Bruce up.
She coughed politely, and Bruce moaned from under his hat.
“Five more minutes?”
Anna laughed. “Wake up. I’m bored.”
Bruce slowly stood, “Oh man. Standing up feels good.”
Anna nodded. “Probably help us stay awake too.”
Bruce sighed dramatically, and slid back into his chair, hat over his eyes again, “I guess.”
“Bruce..
“Fine! I’m up, I’m up…”
“No, Bruce—look!”
Raising a hand, he pulled the brim of his hat up so that he could see what Anna was talking about. It took his eyes a moment to register what it was he was seeing.
“What the…” he said, standing once again to get a better view.“Anna, get your dad.”
Bruce looked over, to see Anna standing frozen, staring at what they’d seen. He laid a hand on her shoulder, pulling her eyes to his. “Get your dad. Go!”
There was no humor in his voice.
Anna ran.
Chapter 4 – Ransom
Linus heard sounds. His brain couldn’t quite process them, but he heard them. They registered. His mind reached out to him slowly, turning the switches on one by one in an effort to drag him back into some semblance of consciousness.
The next thing to filter in through the darkness was pain, complimented by a generous helping of nausea. He groaned involuntarily and reached up to the source of the pain. His nervous system ignited in a fury as his fingers gingerly probed the injury to his head.
He gasped and jerked his hand away.
Linus’ eyes blinked open to see his hands covered in a sticky crimson mess, and slammed closed again in reaction to the light that stabbed into his brain. He was alive. That was good. In pain, but alive.
The next thing that came to him, was memory—not the precise details…those wouldn’t come until later. But he remembered screaming Talia’s name. He remembered that he’d been brave, and had expected that to be the end of him.
A thought came to him that he should probably make an effort to be quiet. His mind couldn’t quite grasp the why of it, but playing dead definitely seemed like a good idea. He focused on being still, and calming his breathing. He felt his heartbeat pounding in his temples, the pain in his head spiked with each beat.
A voice spoke, and he wished his brain would have processed those things in a different order.
“Seems like he’s coming around.”
The voice was male…familiar.
“Hey, buddy. You there?”
Linus kept still, expecting a boot to the ribs that never came. Instead, a thumb peeled back his left eyelid, and shined a pin light into his eye.
“Pupils reacting, so that’s good. A bit slow, though, definitely a concussion.”
Right eyelid.
Linus groaned. He couldn’t help it. He tried to force his eyelid shut, reach up and swatting weakly at the flashlight.
His hand was quickly secured by someone with a vice-like grip, and he felt a pair of plastic zip-ties secure him to the bed that he realized he was laying in.
“Well, he’s not brain-dead,” the man declared. His nervous laughter made Linus’ sensitive system want to empty his stomach.
A second voice filled the room, this one familiar, too. “Keep him alive. I’ll be outside.”
“Hurts,” was all he could muster.
“I bet it does, man. If you didn’t have such a hard head, it would have been game over for you.”
“Thanks. I guess.” Linus peeled his eyes open once more, determined to outlast the initial wave of discomfort. It hit him hard, like daggers to the brain, but Linus steeled himself and allowed it to take him. He rode its wave to the agonizing crescendo until at last the pain abated to a more manageable level.
The speaker was a young man, mid- to late-twenties, dark skin and hair with a three-day beard to match. His smile showed a full set of straight, white teeth. It was a nice face, Linus thought. A friendly face. The face that he himself would wear if he was trying to appear trustworthy.
Linus gave him his best stink-eye. No sense in letting them think he was so easily won over.
The man wore a set of teal medical scrubs and a pair of disposable latex gloves. Doctor or nurse. Thank God.
“Dr. David Patel,” the man said, anticipating the first question.
“Nice to meet you, Dr. Patel. Now where in the hell am I?”
“Call me David, please. You’re in a trailer a few miles north of the trail where you had your…accident. We’re here as guests, though I wouldn’t try leaving.”
Linus looked around. They were in a single-wide trailer. He knew the type. He’d lived in one long enough as a kid to know that just outside of this tiny bedroom with the wood-paneled door would be a bathroom to the right, and a galley kitchen and living room combo would fill up the rest of the space. He could picture it in his head, imagine his mother’s old furniture filling the voids.
He shook his head to clear the memories and quickly realized what a mistake that was. The world spun, and David was there with a bucket just in time to save the bedspread from adding another stain to its already impressive collection.
“You’re going to be nauseas for a while longer, unfortunately, along with the sensitivity to light. Nothing I can do about that. Our gracious hosts have declined to share their wealth of pain medication. My apologies.”
“Our hosts,” Linus said, in a near whisper, “Who are they?”
David shrugged. “A couple of hard cases. I’m guessing they were in the county lockup when this went down.”
“What makes you think that?” Linus asked.
“They were wearing some impressive jewelry when they arrived.”
Linus nodded. It made sense.
“How’d you get tangled up in this mess, David?”
“Wrong place, wrong time. Guy
who owns the trailer was in the ER where I work, over in Columbia when the lights went out. He was detoxing pretty hard, coming down off of whatever he’d been on. I’ve seen them a few times before, always doctor shopping, hoping to get a prescription for Oxy or Vicodin. We always just give him some water, let him rest, and sent him on his way. This time he pulled a gun, made me unlock the cabinets in the pharmacy where we keep the heavily regulated stuff. Cops tried to follow, but he shot them first.” A tear broke free from David’s eye and trailed its way down his cheek. “An old guy and a young woman. She was new. First month on the job. Nice people.” David wiped the tear from his cheer. “He took me with him to make sure no one followed. Makes people pay to see me for treatment.”
“Rough. You’ve been a guest ever since?”
David nodded. “Could be worse. Heard the hospital went to hell soon after that. Word is Columbia’s a mess.”
Linus nodded. “Then we’ll steer clear after we get out of here.”
David shook his head. “No way, friend. You aren’t the first they’re brought in. There are only two ways you’re getting out of here.”
“Yeah, and what’re those?”
David swallowed, looking uncomfortable. “A bullet, or a ransom. They started kidnapping folks like you a couple of days after things went south. They bring them here, interrogate them, leave a note or something for someone that cares about their hostage, and then wait for an exchange. After the exchange, we move to a new location so there’s no retribution.”
“And if nobody shows?” Linus wondered.
“If you’re good guest? You get a bullet.” David replied straight-faced.
Linus tested the zip-tie gently, “What if you’re bad?” he wondered aloud. Ideas surged through his injured brain.
David shivered, and his kind face grew serious. He placed a comforting hand on Linus’ shoulder. “Just be good, Linus.”
Linus closed his eyes and thought of his friends. He hoped his gambit allowed Talia to make it to safety. He hoped that she’d have sense enough if she’d escaped to leave him to his fate.
Breakdown: Episode 8 Page 3