The Scott Pfeiffer Story (Book 2): Sheol

by Woods, Shane

  Her sobs broke into full-on tears as I extended an arm and drew her into a friendly hug.

  “Hey, you did good,” I tried to console. “We were prepared for this, you couldn’t help any of it. It’s okay.”

  “We burnt it,” she expelled between more sobs, one of the toughest women in the compound, still, just human.

  “That’s good. You did great, exactly what was right,” I continued. “Now, take some deep breaths, there ya go, just close your eyes and breathe.”

  I pulled away from our embrace enough to look into her eyes as tears fell. Christ, she was a mess. I put a hand to the side of her face and wiped back a tear with my thumb.

  “Hey,” I kept trying to ease her, “you’re a fucking star, okay? You’re one of my best here, and you did as you should have. James died on my arm. Technically, I’m the one that killed him. It hurts, I know firsthand, but you did amazing. Never think otherwise.”

  “It’s not just James,” she caught another sob and visibly pushed it back. “Scott, the place we rescued those girls from…”

  “Bad?” I asked, as she broke our coupling and wiped her face on the sleeve of her jacket.

  “Worse,” she said ever so softly. “It was a rape den.”

  “A fucking WHAT?” I shot, immediately regretting the outburst as she jumped.

  “Here,” she said, motioning to the empty room next to us, and I followed her inside.

  “Take it slow,” I urged as she closed the door. “We’ve got time, I’m sure.”

  “Okay,” Clara began, “we spotted a guy guarding the outside of a house. Just, standing on the porch with a shotgun. So, me and one of the teens, Xavier, dismounted and approached from a couple of blocks away while the rest circled around to come up from right across the street and watch.”

  “Just a guy?” I questioned, trying to kickstart her brain as she took a short breather, the tears still wet in the dirt and grime on her face.

  “He was dressed like a cop, but we aren’t sure,” she continued.

  “How so?” I urged.

  “Well,” she explained, “these days anyone can grab a uniform, and if they were cops, wouldn’t they have changed their clothes after this long?”

  “You have a point,” I concurred. “So then what?”

  “It went south quickly,” she informed, after regrouping her thoughts. “We approached, acted lost and in need of help, and he almost immediately grabbed me and turned his shotgun on Xavier, the kid…the kid didn’t stand a chance, Scott. I killed him with my knife, but he already got the kid.”

  “Okay, nothing you could have done, right?” I asked, watching her eyes flash. “I mean, how could you expect that, right? But you got him back, so, is that how the rest started?”

  “Yeah,” she said, looking down at her feet for a moment, then, “Then someone from inside started shooting, from both floors. That’s when Jonesy got hit. We rushed the house as soon as the gunfire started, they got him in the doorway and Frank threw one of those pipe bombs Rich makes into the front room.”

  “Did that get the shooter?” I asked, never ceased in my amazement at Rich’s propensity for destructive devices.

  “Mostly, we finished him as soon as we entered,” she explained, then her voice dropped again, “When we cleared the house, the downstairs was empty, but there were three more upstairs. Two dressed as civilians, but, Scott, that’s when we found the girls.”

  “It’s okay hun,” I stated. “Take a breath, take your time. What happened?”

  She shook her head and pinched her nose as she breathed in deeply and exhaled, several times.

  “The third guy was in the far bedroom,” she began anew. “All six of us shot at him, seemed like it at least, and he was dead before he could get his pants up all the way. He had the younger girl, the blind one, Scott he had her tied to the bed, and-”

  “No, no, no,” I paused, “I can probably guess, we can leave that part out. So, you guys killed him, which is less than he deserved, but then what?”

  “We freed her,” she said, beginning to sob again. “Scott she’s blind, and he was doing that. Fucking blind, and so young!”

  I could feel my face flush, and the rage spread through my neck and down my back. It became a physical presence, yet I did my best to remain as stone, if anything for Clara’s benefit. Before I could urge her to continue, she did of her own accord.

  “So, I started cleaning her up the best I could,” Clara detailed. “We found some clean rags and bottled water, got her dressed from the dressers in the house. We found a drawer full of trinkets and IDs. The other girl, we think her name is Jordan based on the IDs. Jordan Townsend, early twenties, but she’s so beat up Scott we can’t hardly tell for sure.”

  “Hey, you guys did great,” I encouraged. “Look, we lost someone, someone got hurt, but where would those girls be without y’all? It’s always worth sacrifice to do the right thing, provided that sacrifice can’t be avoided. And I think you all did great.”

  “The basement,” she carried on, barely even here anymore, so much distance in those green eyes. “That must be where they put the ones they were done with. The spare room, where we found Jordan, it was like a holding cell. All boarded up and secured. But, the basement, Scott, there was at least a dozen dead girls in there. I just, I don’t-”

  “You need a rest,” I confirmed. “Go talk to Bri, tell her to give you some of my scotch. And go do your best to relax. You’re off guard duty tonight, too, I’ll cover.”

  “Scott, I-” she protested, but I cut her off with another hug. A big one.

  “Go take care of yourself,” I stated. “That’s an order.”

  She nodded and made her way into the hallway, then the stairwell.

  Previously focused on Clara, and still only half-awake, I hadn’t heard all the commotion until I re-entered the corridor for the medical floor.

  It sounded like a legitimate hospital here now. Several voices, loud and strong but not quite yelling, emanated from the first emergency room. I approached the door and merely cracked it open an inch, not wanting to disturb whatever life-saving procedures were going on.

  Shannon and Ashley worked feverishly on the leg of a young black man, Jonesy. Jennifer held a place at his head, one hand on his pulse, the other holding some kind of medical device I did not recognize. Frank, and the rarely seen Fred, both held a limb of the man they worked on. Just as I was about to close the door, Jennifer’s head turned toward my direction.

  “Whoever that is, get in here!” she fairly spat, the heat of the emergency room keeping her nerves frayed.

  “It’s me, wife,” I answered, opening the door a bit wider so she could see.

  “Good!” she replied, seeming relieved. “Chloroform, or any inhaled anesthetic; check the closet in the next room in this hallway.”

  “I told you,” Shannon said to her, “we’re out. We don’t have anything for him. Just hold him while we work.”

  “Won’t hurt to check!” she returned, then, to me, “You going to look, or stand there figuring out which of our asses you like better?”

  “It’s mine!” Ashley called over her shoulder.

  “Yeah, I’m out,” I replied. “I’m looking for chlorophyll!”

  “FORM! CHLOROFORM!” Jennifer barked as I left the vicinity before they ripped me apart.

  Walking to the next door in the hallway, I grabbed the knob and pushed my way in heading straight for the pantry and digging in, checking bottles on every shelf and coming up empty.

  “Hello?” came a girl’s voice from the next room.

  “Just a second!” I called back, then brought my borrowed radio to my mouth, “We need chloroform! Anybody? The med staff needs some kind of chloroform, or analgesic!”

  “Dammit Scott! Anesthetic!” Jennifer scolded through her channel.

  “I don’t have any,” came Rich’s gravelly voice, “but I can whip some up for next time, or later, it’ll be a few hours at least. Over.

 
“Better than nothing,” I replied. “Wait, you can do that? Oh, over.”

  “Yeah, is Bri on?” he replied. “Bri! If you’re hearing this, switch to my private channel. Over.”

  “Switching!” Bri replied through the microphone. “Over!”

  Well, that sounded handled, so what next?

  Oh! Right, somebody had said something!

  My head still throbbing, I made my way to the nearby bedroom. On the single bed, arranged at the head of the room, lay a thin, filthy blonde.

  “You called?” I said from the doorway, and the girl eased herself onto her side, then pushed into a sitting position. She was thin, and young. I placed her age at maybe fifteen, sixteen years old. She had short, nearly platinum blonde hair that framed a pale face. From what I could see of her arms, legs, and face, every inch of this girl seemed to be a maze of bruises, scratches, and filth. I assumed this must be one of the girls they just brought in.

  “You okay?” I asked, knowing the likely answer.

  “N-not really,” she said sheepishly, her eyes finding me, but seeming to look right through me.

  Okay, I thought, this must be the blind girl.

  My heart immediately fell upon this realization, and the brunt of what Clara said seemed to weigh it down even further. Ah, shit. This is her. This poor girl.

  Even under her dirt and oversized clothing, her battered exterior, the young girl radiated a wholesome, clear, glow. She would grow up to be a simple beauty, if this world let her grow up.

  “What’s your name?” I asked her, not sure of what else to say.

  “Hannah,” she stated, then almost physically closed herself back up.

  “Hannah,” I continued, “I’m Scott. And you don’t need to worry, okay? You’re as safe here as you can be.”

  “As I can be?” she asked. “You don’t sound so sure.”

  “Well,” I replied, grinning slightly at how clever this kid was, “nowhere is totally safe, but we’re probably your best shot. We’re the good guys.”

  “I hope that’s true,” she said with all the force of a field mouse. “I’m thirsty.”

  “I’ll get some water,” I offered, “and some other things.”

  “Okay,” she nearly whispered.

  I left for the apartment’s pantry and grabbed one of the gallon jugs of water we kept purified and refilled from river water. I also grabbed a bottle of water and the largest bowl I could find in the kitchen cabinets and stopped by the bathroom for some washcloths and a towel. Then, I returned to her room again.

  “Here you go,” I said as I handed her the water bottle, then turned to place the rest of the items on the nearby dresser. Opening the gallon jug, I poured the entire thing into the bowl, and began to array the washcloths and towel on the dresser. As I worked, she spoke up.

  “You said Scott? You must be important here,” she observed. “They all agreed you needed to be found and brought down here. And, that woman, Clara? She was scared you’d be upset with her because one of your people died.”

  “No,” I replied, nearly offhanded. “She did great. We saved people that needed it from people that were bad. They all did great, and our guy gave his life helping others.”

  A scream came from the next room as if it were on cue, Jonesy, I assumed, then quieted down on its own.

  “They’re fixing our other friend,” I explained, seeing her mouth part in a panicked expression. “Heard he took a couple bullets to the leg.”

  “Hey guys?” Henry’s voice crackled as I observed Hannah taking another sip of her water. “I have some nitrous in my garage, if it will help. Over.”

  “Bring it, NOW!” Jennifer called back. “You guys are easier to work on unconscious! Over!”

  Henry complied and the radio fell silent again.

  “Hey, I set some things up here for you,” I spoke to Hannah, “so let’s just get you cleaned up, I guess. I’ll, uh, I’ll let you take care of it, but let me show you where it is.”

  “Okay,” she said, she was so quiet and timid. Christ, I felt horrible.

  “I’m going to take your hand,” I instructed loud and clear.

  “I’m only blind,” she informed me,” you can just talk.”

  “Right, sorry,” I said, my turn to sound sheepish.

  I led her to the edge of the bed and let her stand before leading her cautiously to the dresser. She wasn’t much more than a wisp of a girl, her entire frame narrow and she stood just a bit taller than my shoulder.

  “Here’s washcloths, two of them, on a dresser,” I showed her by placing her hand on them, then carefully collected her left hand, “on this side is a towel to dry with. There’s a large bowl of water here, it’s clean. Just, uh, I guess try to get yourself the best you can, we’ll get you taken care of better later. There’s a few gravity showers around, it’s kind of still primitive here.”

  “Thank you,” she stated, then, “Why?”

  “Why what?” I asked her, careful not to sound harsh.

  “Why save me?” she questioned. “I’m clearly not going to be much in a fight, or much of a help in general.”

  Wow, so this one didn’t pull her punches. It seemed to be the theme around here now. You see enough shit hitting the fan and you just kind of quit caring about what offends, or how to tip toe sensitive subjects especially when time was usually at a premium.

  “Right thing to do. What more reason do we need?” I countered. “Not a single one of us was going to let that continue to happen to you if we could stop it.”

  She just shrugged meekly and stood still.

  “Okay, well,” I began, “myself or one of the doctors will be around in a little bit, I’ll at least give you time to clean up and get dressed again. Then you rest. I’m probably already in trouble with Shannon for having you out of bed.”

  “In trouble?” she chided. “I thought you were the leader here?”

  “That’s what they call me,” I laughed, “but at the end of the day, we’re all equal, and all boss of our own areas.”

  On that note, I left. I headed past a now much quieter emergency room, only glancing in to see them hard at work, Henry standing by, a Nitrous Express bottle standing near his feet.

  I turned for the stairwell, went down one flight, and guided myself through the poorly-lit first floor, and out into the overcast day. As I walked across the lot, to the entrance to Rich’s bunker, the sun managed to filter through the gap between two clouds, just for a moment, but even that little bit felt refreshing.

  Reaching the door for Rich’s armory, I pushed my way in, only to be met with his nearly glowing ice blue eyes staring at me over the top of what resembled a chemistry set and still combined into one.

  “You know,” I issued, “just because the world is over, doesn’t make that shit legal in my house.”

  “Shut up,” He chuckled. “It’s not meth. Different process. I’m making chloroform.”

  “Making it?” I asked in amazement. “I thought you were joking.”

  “Nope, chill and drip the gases from a couple of household items and you have rough chloroform.”

  “What, ahhh, what chemicals?” I asked, genuinely curious.

  “Bleach and acetone,” he stated proudly.

  “You scare me,” I replied in earnest. He did, at times. The things this man knew were startling, if not mind-boggling. He looked every bit the opposite of a mad scientist, yet he was very much exactly that.

  We were momentarily interrupted by a radio vote for dinner; it seemed most preferred to dine on their own tonight. I couldn’t blame them, especially Shannon and the girls. She’d been at it longer than most of us had today.

  Rich tossed a beef ravioli MRE on the counter and a bottle of water.

  “Looks like dinner is on me tonight, if you’ll stay,” he beamed. “On the house for you, of course.”

  “You gave me one of the good ones,” I noted. “What’s your angle?”

  “Let me test explosives from inside of the outer wa
ll?” he implored.

  “Fuck no.” I burst out laughing. “No way, dude! I’ll give you a crew and you can go east of here, you’re still not testing inside. Besides, we don’t want to show our hand to the Colonel, and he always seems to be nearby lately. Fuck that.”

  It was well after dinnertime before we broke our conversation.

  I bade Rich goodnight, though I knew he’d likely be up much later working on God knows what.

  I made my way back up to the second floor, where I met with Ashley.

  “Hey! Scott,” she greeted, “Shannon and Jennifer are upstairs, on the roof for their dinner.”

  “Jonesy?” I asked.

  “He’s stable, lost a bunch of blood but not enough to have to worry, we think. He’s asleep in recovery.”

  “Hannah still next door?” I asked, genuinely curious.

  “Oh, you two have met?” she inquired. “She’s such a sweetheart. Blunt, but so kind, I can’t believe it. Poor thing.”

  “Yeah I know,” I confirmed. “Did she get cleaned up? I may give her room on the ninth floor with us.”

  “Aw, that’s so nice!” Ashley replied. “But are you going to have time? She’s going to need a lot of adjusting and probably patience.”

  “I know, but I’m sure Jennifer will help,” I suggested, “and either way, I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it.”

  “Well, I hope it works out!” she replied as I turned to leave.

  “Oh, and Ashley?” I called from around the corner. “Your ass is flat, Jennifer wins.”

  I departed on the tail of a sarcastic scoff from her, smiling the whole way.

  I neared the door for where Hannah was located, one down from the main office. I listened for a moment, and heard nothing, so I knocked three times in quick succession. The last thing I wanted was to walk in on her. Tony was one thing, he was damn near family, this was…a little different.

  A moment after my last knock, Hannah’s soft voice floated to me through the door.

  “It’s okay!” she called, and I entered the room.

  “How ya doing, Hannah?” I asked.

  “Oh! Scott, hi,,” she replied, then, “I’m fine. Your doctor, Jennifer, she got me cleaned up the rest of the way and found me some new clothes to wear. She’s really nice!”