Almawt Virus Series (Book 3): Days Since...Jenny [Day 986]

by Wilson, Robert

  Finally it came, what she had been expecting since the gunshots rang out—the heavy clopping of boots down the hall. Here we go… She dropped to the ground, her back against the door, curling up as closely to it as she could to prevent anyone’s quick peek through the window from seeing her.

  The footfalls slowed to a stop just outside the door.

  “It’s got to be back here.” A man said, speaking as if he were in charge of the patrol.

  “Who was shooting?”

  “Not sure, but I know it has something to do with that group in black,” a woman spoke up. “Who else? Shit like this doesn’t happen, but then all of a sudden they show up. Come on, man, put it together.”

  “Alright, quiet down you two. Keep your damn eyes peeled. Let’s go.”

  Jenny listened for the sound of the patrol’s footsteps to disappear. Once they did, she inched the door open. Just a peek. No one to either side. Time to move. She hoisted the rucksack onto her back and brought the rifle’s sling over her head. A quick once over. Everything in place. Everything loaded. She crept a foot forward into the hallway. A scream. Jenny grimaced. They found them…

  “High alert!” the man’s voice thundered down the hall. “Get the message to the roof!” Boots pounded back her way, and his orders echoed along with them. “If they see any of the men in black, shoot first! No questions!”

  They think the S.A. did this. That couldn’t be any better. “We gotta go, boy.” She attached Sherman’s lead, and without a second to spare, they curled right, beelining straight for the exit to the loading docks. Not certain she’d be alone out there, she drew the pistol from the holster. A deep breath, then she elbowed the push bar to the door and slipped through, gun up and ready, Sherman at her side.

  Outside, Jenny winced in the direct sunlight. Damn! Struggling to see across her pistol sights, she shifted her angle, but Sherman took advantage of her adjustment and broke left from the door. “Platz.” His tugging at the lead ceased. She took her pistol across the loading dock, keeping the large, metal door against her back to guard her six. From where she stood, a distinct line of footprints made across the landing, down the stairs, and then up the ramp toward the woods. I wonder how far the S.A. has gotten.

  She flashed her pistol behind the door—only a few feet of landing before a dead end into the wall—then eased the heavy door back into place. Listening, she took a moment to ensure there’d be no surprises coming at her through the door. The patrol that had discovered the bodies were still tearing down the long hallway, yelling. Jenny and Sherman withdrew into the dead end of the landing, hoping that if the patrol opened the door to warn the guards on the roof, it would be a simple shout and nothing more. Luckily for her, the patrol continued down the corridor past her position.

  The landing’s metal grating clanked beneath her feet as she walked. Nervous she’d alert one of the guards on the roof, she slowed her steps, heel to toe, lightly crunching through what snow hadn’t fallen to the ground. About halfway across the landing, they came to a flight of stairs. Two lines of footprints split from the bottom—one out into the open toward the woods—the other hidden between a couple of semi-trailers.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Sherman buried his nose into the snow, his interest leading them along the tracks sneaking in between the trailers. Jenny studied the footprints, only three sets counted in this line—all the same tread design, just different sizes. Matt and Grant aren’t here. Have to be in that other group. If not… then I don’t know what the hell is going on. She knelt, glancing underneath the trailer. Sherman whined, and Jenny whipped the pistol toward the semi’s cab, but nothing there. The sudden shift caused her heart to beat even faster. “Damn it, Sherman. What do you know?” He sat near the wall of the trailer and looked back toward her, his eyes knew something. “Seek!”

  The canine scrambled underneath the trailer, the lead flapping in the snow behind him, let loose from Jenny’s grip. She dropped the pistol into its holster and took to the rifle. Backtracking toward the stairs and round the semi’s back end, she posted at the corner of the trailer. One peek, then a second. She broke out into the open, rifle fixed toward the top of the ramp. Sherman found something—small and black in the snow. “Matt’s glove. Good, boy!” She tousled his fur and scooped the glove into her cargo pocket. “So, this is definitely the way they went.”

  “Jenny!”

  Jolted from the outburst, she spun the rifle, searching for where the voice had come from. The rooftop—Derrick, one of their own.

  “Where’d all those shots come from?” he asked.

  She put a finger over her lips—“Keep it down”—and hurried over to where he stood above her. “Just…” What the hell do I say? “It’s—it’s a long story. Don’t have time to explain. I need to—”

  “Are you okay?” From his tone, she knew he had seen the blood.

  She stared blankly, saying nothing, still unsure on what to share, if anything.

  “Seriously, what the hell’s goin’ on?” Derrick’s voice more urgent now. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine. Did you see who made these tracks back here?”

  He shook his head. “No, they weren’t there before. Only two of us up here right now. Let me ask the other—”

  “No, it’s fine.” She glanced back toward the ramp. “You see anyone in the woods? Can you see that far?”

  “No one’s there. Just those prints leadin’ up through that way.” He flipped his binoculars to double-check. “Yeah, nothing.”

  “Thanks!” She jogged back to Sherman and took hold of his lead.

  “Jenny,” he called to her again, “really, what’s going on?”

  “Stay up there, you see any one of those guys dressed in black come through here, don’t ask any questions, just shoot them dead.”

  “I can’t do that without orders from Griffin.”

  “Griffin’s...” Jenny started. “The order’s coming.” She tugged at Sherman’s lead, and they rushed for the woods.

  “Jenny!” he shouted. “What’s that mean? What happened?”

  ...

  The Second Alliance’s tracks led back through the training grounds—the same direction they’d come through earlier with Griffin. No effort was taken on their part to hide it. Every bootprint accounted for. No trickery. A straight-forward march to wherever it was they were going. “Aren’t being very careful are they, boy?” She patted Sherman’s side. “They were probably long gone by the time shit went bad and have no idea their plan’s essentially dead.”

  Jenny took her binoculars from inside the pouch and glassed across the ridge looming before them—nothing in the distance except the gray sky bleeding through bare branches. “We’ll pick their track up in a bit.” She leaned the rifle against a downed tree protruding from the snow and slipped the rucksack from her shoulders. With her boot, she cleared some snow from the ground to sit next to her long gun, remembering to always have it ready at hand.

  “What do you think, boy?” She scratched along his back, up to his head, which now lay in her lap. He looked up at her, eyes heavy. “I know...” Her voice wavered. “You’d think it’d get easier.” The tears swelled inside, wanting nothing more than to break loose, to glide down the features of her face to show the world her loss. That she was hurting again. Another friend gone. Another death that didn’t have to be. She choked it back down and forced a smile. “Here,”—she leaned over and unclipped the flap to the ruck—“let’s take your mind off this. You hungry?” Sherman perked up at the can of dog food dangling in front of him. “At least you still have your appetite.”

  He nudged against the can, his tongue hanging with anticipation. Jenny opened the can and flipped it, letting the meat slurry plop into the snow. She wretched at its smell. “Not the greatest is it?” She couldn’t bear to watch him tear into it. Instead, she raised the binoculars toward the ridge once more. “They can’t be too far yet, right?” Her eyes pursued the trail of footprints running up the face of th
e ridge until they disappeared. “This is going to be a piece of cake for you.” He looked to her, satisfied—the food gone from the snow. “What do you think?”

  He cocked his head sideways.

  “I know you know more than just German,” she forced a chuckle that went nowhere with her canine companion. “You’re gonna need to start talking back at some point.”

  Sherman brought his head back into her lap, and Jenny traced her fingers through his fur. Calming. She took the moment to decompress, leaning her head back against the tree behind them. Through the branches, she lost herself in the sky. A good long gaze.

  The S.A. owes me for everything. For Danny. For Xavier. Sam. Anyone else they’ve taken from the world that didn’t deserve it. I know finding them isn’t going to be the problem. Sherman’s too good. But it’s what to do once we get there. I have to be smarter than them, patient. Wait for a mistake. It isn’t impossible. Only four of them. One’s a Soldier, though. Shit… Maybe I should’ve gotten some others to help. But who the hell knows who was in on it? Maybe all the higher ups knew about the plan for Matt and Grant. Better to work alone. At least I know where my loyalties lie.

  Jenny tousled Sherman’s head. “It’s me and you, boy. That’s it.”

  Chapter Nine

  Smoke billowed from a chimney—the fireplace providing warmth and refuge from the cold outside. Jealous, but not stupid enough to follow suit, Jenny shivered in a vacant house across the street, surveilling the porch where two Second Alliance Guards stood watch. How the hell’s the S.A. made it this far? That’s basic stuff right there. Don’t give your position away. “Right, boy?” she whispered, turning her attention from the window. She heard the bed’s comforter rustle but couldn’t make out much more than that in the shadowy upstairs bedroom. All she knew was he’d claimed the bed already and lay somewhere sprawled out across it. “Rest up. You’ve earned it.”

  At the window, she sat wrapped in a blanket she’d found in one of the back room closets and considered grabbing another one. The single blanket proved insufficient with every gust of wind sneaking through the slightly opened window. Unfortunately, closing it wasn’t an option. During the Guards’ first shift change, she took her first and only attempt. It squeaked something fierce, then refused to budge any further. Luckily, anyone who could’ve heard her mistake was inside at the time and unable to. Now, the only sound coming from her position was the gentle clacking of the blinds against the wooden frame.

  Diligently, she studied their movements, their habits, trying to establish a pattern, but more importantly, a true count of Second Alliance personnel standing in her way. But even with the burning fireplace helping to illuminate the muted figures passing by the front window, Jenny’s confidence in her mental tally was weak—each of them in uniform—all fairly the same build.

  She sighed. So, maybe three in the front room, well, if those are even the same people every time. I know Matt and Grant are there too, but I really doubt they’re up walking around. They’re probably stuffed in a back room or something with another S.A. Guard watching them. So… let’s assume four inside. And with the two on the porch, maybe six of them total? I don’t know. There still might be others. Once that sun goes down, I’ll be free to move around a lot easier and hopefully get a better count. For now though, I keep watching, gather as much info as I can.

  After another hour of surveillance, the shadows began to lay long across the snow. The black uniforms of the Guards holding post across the street began to blend in with the nightfall. She placed her chair closer and rested her chin on the windowsill between two empty cans from a meal eaten earlier.

  Little else happened. Another shift change passed—the extent of the action. Her eyes grew heavy with boredom, with watching nothing.

  “What’s the matter, kiddo?”

  “Nothing… Just trying to get my work done.”

  “Come on, Jenny… You’ve been in a funk for over two weeks now. I tried giving you some time to work it out, but I’m missing my buddy.”

  “Dan—”

  “You remember my buddy, right? This peppy, energetic girl that got here maybe a month ago, you know the one, she used to come around and play with Sherman all the time. You haven’t seen her around, have you?”

  “I’m not in the mood.”

  “Not even a smile?”

  “I just wanna get my work done, so I can go to sleep.”

  “That’s all you do anymore.”

  “I guess I’ve been tired.”

  “Too tired to eat?”

  “I eat… not that it’s any of your business.”

  “So? What? I can’t be worried about you?”

  “You can do whatever you want.”

  “Quit playing like this. Something happened, and I want to know what it is. I want to help you, but I can’t if you just shut me out like this. Everyone knows everything about everyone. This place is too small to hide anything.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “Did someone do something to you?”

  “No.”

  “Matt or Grant?”

  “Hell no. They’d never do anything to me like that.”

  “Like what, Jenny?”

  “Nothing. I didn’t mean to…”

  “I didn’t come here to fight. I’m sorry, just worried about you, kiddo. I actually came here to try and cheer you up. Kinda failed, huh? ...Well anyways, the—the good news is I ended up talking to Griffin.”

  “Wha— Why? Why’d you do that? He’s got nothing to do—”

  “Here, calm down. He came to me, told me Derrick wanted a break from scouting and asked who I wanted to replace him with. Asked me if I had anyone in mind. And, seeing how you’re a natural with Sherman and eager to learn, I brought your name up. Said he was good with it.”

  “Really? You’re not messing with me?”

  “There’s that smile… And no, I’m not messing with you. You start tomorrow if you want.”

  “I do.”

  “We’ll be training everyday away from the Depot, so you’d better get used to being out in the world. But don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you. All I ask is that you never give up. No matter how hard it gets. You earn my trust like that, and I’ll protect you with my life.”

  “I’m not asking for all that.”

  “You don’t have to. Just get the job done, and we’ll be square.”

  Her eyelids jerked open. Shit! How long have I been out? Peering through the window, it seemed nothing had changed across the street. The fire still burned. Silhouettes in the house, on the porch. She tossed the blanket to the floor and stood, wobbly from her doze. A quick touch to the rifle leaning against the wall, to the pistol resting in her leg holster. Everything’s okay. You gotta be better than that though. Can’t afford to doze off like that. You owe him. Danny said to get the damn job done, and we’ll be square.

  Light snoring interrupted her thoughts. “Sherman,” she whispered.

  Not a stir.

  “Sherman.” She tried to raise him several more times. Still no use. Guess I’ll have to go wake him up. She felt her way through the dark, both hands outstretched, shuffling her feet across the carpet. Night had fallen hard upon the street, leaving the room’s layout to her imagination. Overestimating the distance to the bed, she knocked against one of the posts, startling Sherman from his sleep. “Sorry, boy, but it’s almost time to get this going.”

  She angled herself at the window, peering through the blinds once again. What the…? Now, it appeared only one Guard held post at the front door. In that brief moment of waking Sherman, she must’ve missed where his partner had slinked off to. Anxiously, she scanned the house, porch, street, the yard, trying to find him and allay her fear the Guard had slipped away—now, unaccounted for. Come on… where are you?

  It wasn’t but a few seconds later, and the missing Guard stood from behind the porch’s railing. Her heart slowed. Briefly, something was said between the two of Guards, then t
he other man took to the porch, hands against the concrete, legs straight out behind him. A push-up contest? These guys think they’re on vacation...

  With her patience wearing thin and her imagination churning on about what awaited Matt and Grant, she snatched the rucksack from the floor. “We got all the info we’re gonna get watching up here.” From inside the ruck, Jenny managed to locate the flashlight, a hunting knife, and water. In between gulps, she tested the flashlight underneath the blanket and drew the knife along the fabric—it tore through the edge without fail. She slung the rifle across her back after stuffing the flashlight and knife into a cargo pocket. The rucksack would remain in the house.

  Jenny took hold of Sherman’s lead and coaxed him from the bed with a few light snaps of her fingers. “Let’s go, boy.” The two crept through the house, slow and steady through the darkness. Back through the bedroom. A hallway. Past several doors. Around the corner, then she released the lead. “Blieb.” The last thing I need is you falling down these stairs. She dabbed her foot against the first step, making sure it remained her first step down—one at a time would do.

  Taking handfuls of the pine railing, she kept her eyes affixed to the front door at the landing. A sheer curtain drawn across the door’s full-frame window concerned her. That curtain isn’t shielding anything from the street. Or from that damn porch. Actually… She stopped herself midway down the flight. Hanging her head just over the banister, she bent her eyes down the hallway toward the back of the house. No backlight. It won’t be a problem. Her feet eased down the remaining steps. “Hier.” Sherman responded, and the two of them hustled through the back hallway and outside.