Another Dawn

by Deb Stover

  Enough of this. It was time for her to concentrate on survival and recovery. Someone somewhere would know who she was. Wouldn't they? She hoped so, because a thorough search of her pockets had netted nothing but a couple of dissolved aspirin. No identification at all.

  "Here we are." Father Salazar's voice broke through Sofie's thoughts. "It's not much of a town, but it's better than nothing."

  Sofie mopped perspiration from her brow with her damp sleeve and nodded. Soon this nightmare would be over, and someone would tell her who she was.

  "Let's go find you a doctor or hospital."

  A few wood-framed buildings skirted the edge of town, as well as a couple of log cabins. They emerged from the trees and onto a dirt road that led to the town. Sofie looked down the mountain, where the road twisted and turned, then vanished into the trees.

  "Civilization, such as it is," Father Salazar muttered, and started toward town.

  Sofie took two steps for every one of his to keep pace, but she was as eager as he to end their adventure. A crude wooden sign at the edge of town read, "Redemption, Colorado, Population 247."

  He chuckled, but she didn't ask why. Nothing mattered now except finding help. She hadn't realized how frightened she'd been of dying in the wilderness until now. A tear trickled down her cheek unheeded.

  "Stop right there," a gruff voice said as two men emerged from the nearest cabin.

  "Oh, God, no." Father Salazar squeezed her hand hard, then released it. He took a backward step as the two men aimed their long rifles.

  And cocked the triggers.

  Chapter 3

  Terror seized Luke. Panic spread from his gut and into his chest. It flowered through his veins like molten lava from an erupting volcano.

  He stared at the rifle barrels aimed at his chest. His blood turned icy, as memories of the electric chair's merciless, blazing pain returned to torment and torture him.

  The mountains seemed to close in as he scanned the area for a means of escape. He took two backward steps. The men advanced on him, their rifles unwavering.

  Again, he tried to swallow, but his throat felt as if he'd been drinking battery acid. His eyes burned and his vision blurred and cleared repeatedly as his tear ducts tried to replenish the moisture two thousand volts had zapped from them. Despite all the rain, his body was parched inside and out.

  The men took another step.

  They won't take me back alive. Never.

  But even as he made his vow, a slight movement at his side reminded him he wasn't alone. What about Sofie? He had to make sure she'd be all right here before he escaped–assuming he could escape. But why do I have to? He'd already lost most of the day trying to get her to safety.

  He shot her a sideways glance. Damn. She looked terrified. Why shouldn't she be? She'd lost her memory, been stranded in the wilderness with the likes of him, and now she faced a pair of armed bullies who could have just stepped off the set of Deliverance.

  Even so, he should run. Let the bastards shoot him in the back and end this nightmare. Anything was better than facing that chair again.

  Yes, he should run...but he didn't. Why?

  Think. These guys didn't look like prison guards, or any other branch of law enforcement, for that matter. Dressed in dirty jeans with many-colored patches, they looked like good ol' boys or ranchers with hunting rifles.

  Drawing a deep breath, Luke forced himself to meet the taller man's gaze. The man's expression left no doubt he meant business, but he appeared almost apologetic, as if he didn't approve of his own actions.

  "What do you want?" Luke asked finally, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. He was so thirsty he could barely talk, but all he wanted was to be free...and to leave Sofie somewhere safe. Nothing more. He didn't even want food or water, if they'd just let him walk–run–away. "I don't have much money."

  His gaze unwavering, the taller man spat tobacco juice on the ground near Luke's stolen shoes. "Nah, you got it all wrong, Padre. We're here to protect you."

  "Yeah, sure. See, I'm not used to having guns pointed at me for my own protection." Luke made a feeble attempt at a smile, but the corner of his lip cracked in protest, and he felt blood trickle down his chin.

  Sofie moved closer to Luke and took his hand again. He didn't want to be responsible for her. Hadn't he suffered enough already, without having this woman's safety on his conscience, too?

  "Protect us from what?" Sofie asked, her voice surprisingly steady, and her gaze riveted on the rifles. "I really don't like guns."

  The short, bald man lowered his rifle, allowing the barrel to point harmlessly toward the ground. "She's right, Zeke. We don't need no guns for these two, but we sure in tarnation could use us a priest."

  Luke wanted to tell them he was no priest, but that would be counterproductive. Stupid. After all, if his disguise was going to save his ass, he had to play the role. "What's going on here? Why do you need a priest? And...and guns?"

  Zeke lowered his rifle, too. "Reckon we don't need the rifles at that. Beg pardon." He drew a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, obviously prone to dramatics. "We're here to keep folks outta Redemption. Got us a epidemic."

  Epidemic? Luke had to put some serious distance between himself and the law, but that obviously wasn't an option. Of course, options were luxuries condemned men didn't have. When was the last time he'd had any at all?

  How do you plead? Yeah, right, some option.

  Silence stretched between them, making him realize how quiet the town was. Deathly quiet. Maybe they really did have an epidemic. Looking beyond the armed men, he saw a wide dirt street. A deserted dirt street. The place looked like a frigging ghost town.

  He quickly noted the lack of cars and power lines. Of course, they could have underground utilities, but at this altitude that was very unlikely. And judging from the modest architecture–mostly logs and native stone–he doubted the town could afford utilities at all.

  Then he remembered Sofie's profession. Maybe the men would be more willing to help her if they realized she could offer medical assistance in return.

  And, even more importantly, he could leave without her welfare on his conscience.

  "Epidemic?" Luke asked, trying to remain calm.

  "Yeah, an epidemic. Doc Wilson says nobody gets in or out of town who ain't already ee–what was that word?" He ran his hand through his greasy hair. "Eemmune. That's it."

  "What kind of epidemic?" Getting information out of this guy was like pulling teeth. Luke aimed his thumb at Sofie, determined to end this nightmare. Fast. "You know, she's a doctor."

  "No, I–"

  Luke squeezed Sofie's hand tightly and she fell silent. Still, he felt the heat of her angry gaze as she gouged his palm with her fingernails.

  The men exchanged surprised expressions. "Well, I'll be. Maybe that's why she's wearin' britches," the short one said. "I heard tell of a lady sawbones once, but I ain't never met one myself."

  She gouged Luke's hand again, but he didn't even flinch. This was for her own good and his survival. Besides, she really was a doctor, even if she didn't remember. Her medical degree wasn't his doing, nor was it his fault the only town they'd come across looked like a prototype for something out of a Zane Grey novel.

  "What kind of epidemic?" Luke asked again, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. It would be dark within a few hours. He had to get the hell out of here. Soon.

  "Pox." The shorter man scratched his bald head, his expression haggard. Exhaustion etched every crevice on his craggy face, and seemed to tug downward at the corners of his rheumy eyes. "It started with the miners over to the Last Chance Mine, but now the whole blamed town's been exposed." He heaved a tired sigh.

  "Pox?" Luke shot them a questioning glance, though every minute's delay ticked through his head like a sledge hammer on a bass drum. "I had the chicken pox when I was four. That's a disease for kids. Why are you quarantined for something like that?"

  "Ain't chicken pox. Got us small
pox, Padre." Zeke slowly shook his head. "My missus come down with it, but I had it nigh on thirteen years ago. Ab here's had 'em, too. We was both a lot luckier than most. Got only a few scars left between us. But my missus..." He looked down at the ground.

  "But there's no such thing as smallpox anymore," Luke finally said. "They don't even require immunization now, so whatever the people here have can't be smallpox."

  Zeke scowled. "I don't know who they be, but we definitely got us smallpox here. More'n twenty cases as of this mornin'." He waved the barrel of his gun toward the woods. "Why don't you two just skedaddle if'n you ain't gonna help?"

  Damn. Luke had to leave Sofie here. He had no choice. He'd lost too much precious time already, and all because of her. "Show them your arm, Sofie," he said quietly, hoping his desperation didn't reveal itself in his voice.

  Seeming to understand, she slipped off her lab coat and pulled up her sleeve, displaying the small puckered mark that proved her immunity to smallpox. Assuming, of course, there really was smallpox here...

  "You see this?" Luke slipped his hand under her arm, surprised he'd never noticed before how soft a woman's skin could be in that particular spot.

  "I seen one of them before. It keeps folks from gettin' smallpox, just like they'd done had 'em before, like me." Zeke nodded in approval. "You got one of them there marks, too, Padre?"

  Luke released Sofie's arm and rolled up his left sleeve. "Satisfied?"

  The men exchanged glances, obviously in non-verbal consultation. After a moment, they seemed to reach an agreement, and they leveled their guns at Sofie and Luke again. "Yeah," Zeke said. "We'll be satisfied right fine if'n you two just march yourselves on ahead of us now."

  "No, I–"

  A hammer clicked.

  "I don't cotton to usin' guns on nobody, and especially not on a priest and a woman," Zeke explained quietly, "but my missus is doin' poorly." He looked at Sofie, his faded eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Maybe you can help the doc save her and the others." He turned to face Luke. "And if they cain't, then you can give her a proper buryin'. She's always set a powerful store in things like that, even if we be Baptists."

  Luke's disguise had backfired. He swallowed hard, looking down the long, cold barrel of Zeke's rifle. Luke had no choice but to agree to their demands. For now. Once night fell and he assured himself of Sofie's safety, he'd sneak away. It was his only hope.

  And if a bullet finished the job the electric chair had started...so be it.

  Better than frying.

  Sofie shivered, acutely aware of Father Salazar's anxiety. Veins bulged on his neck and sunburned scalp, and perspiration trickled down the sides of his face, disappearing into his soiled white collar.

  Bewildered, she looked from the priest to their captors, resigned. Guns gave them an indisputable advantage, though she didn't really believe they meant any harm. Zeke's pain regarding his wife's illness was too raw, too real, to be feigned.

  She and Father Salazar could be courting serious illness, or even death, by entering Redemption. Was that what worried Father Salazar?

  Slowly, she began walking in the direction Zeke's rifle pointed. Father Salazar released her hand and followed a few steps behind.

  This morning at the cave, he'd threatened to leave her behind. His actions had belied his words repeatedly throughout this harrowing day. Thank God.

  She glanced back at him again, ignoring the throbbing in her temple which had returned with a vengeance, undoubtedly aggravated by hunger and exhaustion. The priest's gaze darted back and forth and his lips were set in a grim line. He had the look of a desperate man, a caged lion. Again, she asked herself why?

  Yet another mystery, reminding her of his persistence concerning her profession, even while maintaining they'd never met before today. No matter how she tried to understand how that was possible, it made no sense. How could he be so sure, and why should she believe him, even if he was a priest?

  Intensity burned in his eyes–a trait contrary to his calling? Though she couldn't remember any other priests she'd ever met, she thought she understood what it meant to be one. Father Salazar should be holy and good, better than the average man. More giving. Well, he'd saved her life, hadn't he? Yes, he saved me.

  Why did general definitions of everyday things remain in her thoughts, while everything personal had vanished completely? She had no idea whether or not she was even Catholic, though Sofie knew without a doubt that Father Salazar was one weird priest.

  In fact, the term weird summed him up in many ways. And hero. My weird hero. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, surprising her.

  "Giddyup, Padre," Zeke prodded, nudging Father Salazar with the barrel of his rifle. "Don't got all day, and I feel a powerful need to check on my missus."

  Father Salazar stumbled and almost fell, catching himself with a stagger and a lurch. Sofie stopped, reaching out to assist him, but he shook his head as if to clear it, then wavered only once more before regaining his footing. He drew a deep breath and looked at her.

  The expression in his eyes stole her breath. Desperate was an understatement. Father Salazar looked like a man whose immortal soul was on the line. Frantic.

  "Don't worry yourself none, Padre," Zeke said quietly. "Folks in Redemption'll treat you right kindly. I dunno where you was headed before, but my missus would say the Almighty brung you to us. I reckon it ain't my place–or your'n–to question His way."

  Had God brought them here? Why? If she was here to save lives with her medical training, then why hadn't the "Almighty" seen fit to spare her memory?

  Sofie tried not to dwell on the fact that Zeke expected her to save his wife's life. She tried to conjure something–anything medical–from the black void that was now her brain. Nothing. The only memories she had were of today, beginning with the sound of an explosion. The Big Bang? Yeah, right.

  Tears of frustration welled in her eyes and she swiped them away angrily. Drawing a deep breath, she turned her attention to the silent little town. Redemption's deathly calm was eerie and disturbing, like an abandoned western movie set–why can I remember something like that?–complete with hitching posts and watering troughs. Most of the buildings were weathered planks or split logs, with stone foundations and wooden shutters instead of windows.

  Other than their captors, the only other face she saw was that of a young man behind a window with iron bars. He couldn't have been much over twenty, if that, yet the sign in front of the building clearly identified the small stone structure as the local jail. Definitely a western movie.

  Sofie swallowed hard and looked back over her shoulder again at the young prisoner's forlorn expression and shaggy blond hair. He should be in college, playing football and joining a fraternity.

  Even allowing for her amnesia, nothing about Redemption seemed logical. And she suspected it still wouldn't, even if her memory returned this very instant.

  She was tired and hungry, and her head ached. The aspirin in her pocket had melted hours ago from the drenching rain. Maybe Father Salazar had more.

  But her physical woes were the least of her problems. She was frightened. Terrified. She didn't know herself, or anyone else in the world. She didn't even know what she looked like. And unfortunately, no one here knew her.

  "The doc's house couldn't hold all the patients, so we took over the schoolhouse," Zeke said, as he and Ab paused before a long, low building. "Doc Wilson'll be pleased to have some help." He inclined his head toward the door.

  Sighing, Sofie summoned every ounce of strength she could muster. Ab opened the door and she hesitated for only a moment, then walked into the dim, stifling interior. She felt, rather than saw, Father Salazar's presence behind her.

  A tall slender man wearing a vest with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows quickly approached them. His expression was stern as he stopped before them, glared at their escort, and yanked off his glasses. "I told you not to let anyone into town."

  "I know, Doc, but they both
got the mark on their arm like the Widow Fleming." Ab ducked his head and his face turned bright red.

  "'Sides, he be a priest and she be a sawbones," Zeke added matter-of-factly.

  The physician turned his gaze on Sofie and curiosity replaced his earlier anger. "You're a doctor?"

  Uncertain, Sofie shrugged. "So I'm told."

  "I'm sorry, but either you are or you aren't." The doctor sighed and shook his head. "People are dying here, and I could really use the help." Clearing his throat, he wiped his hands on a towel. "By the way, I'm Roman Wilson, Redemption's only, very inadequate, doctor."

  "Now you have one more doctor." Father Salazar's calm tone took Sofie by surprise. "We were in an accident this morning and she got hit on the head. Doesn't remember anything before that. All we know is her first name is Sofie. I'm Father Salazar." He thrust out his right hand.

  After shaking hands, the doctor said, "Father, I wish we could welcome you under better circumstances, but I'm glad to hear you've both been inoculated against smallpox."

  Dr. Wilson turned to Sofie and touched her chin with gentle fingers, tilting her head slightly to examine her injury. "Nasty bruise." He dropped his hand to his side and met her gaze again, his expression gentle and filled with concern. "Any dizziness or blurred vision?"

  "A little earlier, but not now. Just a turbo-headache."

  "Turbo?" Dr. Wilson shook his head. "I have some headache powders in my bag." He turned to face Zeke. "I was about to send for you, Zeke."

  "She's worse?" Zeke bowed his head at the doctor's nod. "I was afeared of that."

  The doctor placed his hand on Zeke's coat sleeve. "Go to her. Now."

  Zeke rushed away, disappearing into the bowels of the huge, dim room. Real-life drama. Sofie felt Zeke's pain, absorbing it until her knees buckled beneath her.

  Father Salazar and Dr. Wilson both grabbed her. With a man on each arm, she couldn't possibly fall, but her stomach lurched and burned ominously. Any moment, she'd double over with dry heaves. She needed food and some cool water.