Bled Dry

by Lou Cadle

  She went back to Jackson and leaned in close. “Kick the door open and start shooting?” she said.

  “Not kick,” he said, his breath tickling her ear. “Ease it open. You shoot left. Then run. Outside.”

  “Okay,” she said. She could see the handle on the door to the meeting room. She felt it under her hand, then she slipped her goggles back up. Opening the door would blind her otherwise.

  Not that she was going to do much careful aiming. As long as there were human figures to her left, she’d just empty this magazine at them and then take off running for the window. She took a knee, giving Jackson plenty of room to shoot over her head.

  “Three, two,” she whispered, as another single shot rang out from the meeting room.

  On one, she opened the door. It swung open, and Jackson grabbed it with his boot tip and swung it faster.

  When it was half open, she saw human forms and began firing, left to right, trying to hit them all, firing fast. Above her head, the sound of Jackson firing was deafening. She emptied her magazine, scrambled past him and ran for the window, hoping he was on her heels. She heard him fire four more times, and then the door slammed. She tossed her rifle out of the window ahead of her, hoping it wouldn’t be damaged in the fall, and launched herself through the opening after it.

  As she flew, she tried to draw her legs up to get them under her, but she only managed to land on her knees, which hurt like a son of a bitch. She leaned and began to roll. A flash of lightning illuminated the scene. Her rifle was over there, six feet away. And Jackson’s head was at the window, his rifle just now dropping from his outstretched arms.

  The last thing she saw before the light faded was him raising his hands to grip the open window and shifting his butt to the window sill. Then the lightning faded and the world went dark. She crawled to where her rifle was, her knees stinging. Then there was a light at the window and the glass exploded outward.

  She moved fast, grabbing her rifle, getting somehow to her feet and running past the pain in her knees, hard, back toward the truck where she’d left Dev. It was decent cover, and if Dev was in a bad way, she wanted to be able to defend him if they poured out here looking for her and Jackson.

  She heard Jackson running behind her—or she hoped it was him. Her neck crawled with the thought that it wasn’t, and she put on a burst of speed, running so fast that when she reached the truck, she had misjudged the distance and slammed into the corner of it. She spun off, lost her balance, and sat in the middle of the parking lot.

  Without thinking, she raised her rifle and aimed at the footsteps, but when a soft flicker of lightning lit the parking lot, she saw it was indeed Jackson.

  Then she remembered she’d emptied the magazine, and it wouldn’t have mattered had she shot. Still, she had to get control of her head. Too much damned adrenaline right now.

  “Are they after us?” Jackson said, swinging around behind the truck and squatting down.

  Sierra fought to control her racing mind as thunder echoed a second behind the lightning. Once the light had faded, she put her goggles on and looked at the building. No signs of humans. “No.”

  “Get back here,” Jackson said, then, “What the hell?”

  Sierra rolled to her knees, which complained mightily, gave up on that thought, and scooted on her butt back to where Jackson was, pulling off her goggles because he had some sort of light on.

  He had a penlight and was looking down at Dev. “Is he dead?”

  “I’m not dead,” Dev mumbled.

  “He’s lost some blood. And I think he has a concussion or something,” Sierra said. “Keep that light on, would you? No, wait. Do you have any bandages? A bandana in your pack? Anything like that?”

  “Yeah, here,” Jackson said, and he stuck his light in his teeth and shrugged off his pack. He began pulling out items: empty magazines, packaged MREs, an emergency blanket, a white plastic cylinder.

  She picked it up and read the printing on the side. Water filter. He’d come prepared.

  He said around the flashlight in his mouth, “Get the emergency blanket over him. Where’s he hit?”

  Sierra said, “Not shot. He cut his hand on glass.”

  “My head hurts,” Dev said.

  “Can’t give him aspirin,” Jackson said, finding a first aid kit and opening up. “Not until I see how bad the bleeding is. You okay, buddy? Show me the cut.”

  Sierra tore open the emergency blanket with her teeth and flipped it open, putting it over Dev’s lower half and tucking it beneath him. She left Jackson to his first aid work, and took the moment to change out her magazine. She was down to her last full one, but she had a box of ammo in her backpack.

  First, she looked back around the truck with the night vision goggles to make sure no one was coming. They were clear for now, so she took off her pack, found the box of ammo, and loaded up her empty magazines again, working under the dim reflected light of Jackson’s penlight.

  Lightning again illuminated what he was doing for Devlin. Steady hands were wrapping gauze around Dev’s hand. Sierra slid the final bullets into her magazines, mentally thanking Arch for drilling her on doing this fast. Thunder rumbled. The storm was moving away, though the rain was still coming down hard. The penlight flicked off. No problem for her, not with the goggles. With them on, she finished loading her magazines, put the magazines in her right pocket, closed up the nearly empty ammo box, and put it back into her pack.

  “Okay, got it,” Jackson said. “Try and keep that above the level of your heart, Dev. Can you hold your rifle?”

  “I think so,” Dev said.

  Sierra peeked around the corner of the truck and saw someone. “Shh,” she said. It was just one man, coming around the corner, a rifle in hand, looking. She didn’t know if it was one of theirs or the enemy, so she didn’t fire at him. She just watched as he traversed the back wall of the building, sliding along. Was he thinking about coming to the truck or the car? He didn’t seem to be. If he looked this way, she didn’t see him do it. Still, if it was the enemy, he’d think of it sooner or later as a potential hiding spot. When he turned the corner to go up the far side of the building, she concluded it had likely been an invader, searching for them. Too late to shoot him now. “I think we should move. Can you, Dev?”

  “I can walk,” he said.

  “There’s a fence behind the lot,” Jackson said.

  “I don’t want to get too far from Kelly,” Sierra said. “If we can get around to her—or back to the jail—that’d be best.” In fact, now that she’d suggested it, she realized that getting Dev back to the relative safety of the jail was a good idea. Mr. Lambert could take care of him.

  “How many did you get in there?” Jackson said.

  “I was firing at three. I might have hit all three, but I didn’t see any go down,” she said.

  “I killed one, I’m sure of that,” Jackson said. “Otherwise, yeah, I didn’t really stay to look at the results.”

  “Even if we wounded five, killed one, that’s good,” she said.

  “I wonder where their spare ammo is,” Jackson said. “Not in that building, or they’d be firing a lot more rounds.”

  “That’s a good question,” she said. “Maybe we can hunt for it after we get Dev back to the jail.”

  “That’s what we’re doing?”

  “He’s injured. And his head hurts,” she said. “I want him safe.”

  “I’m okay,” Dev said. He didn’t sound okay. His voice was strained, as if the pain in his head was significant.

  “Okay,” Jackson said, ignoring Dev’s protest. “Wait for the next lightning strike for illumination. I’ll check this direction. You look to the side of the parking lot over that way and see what our options are.”

  Sierra checked the back of the building one more time with the goggles on, then pushed them back up and waited for the world to light up again. There were only two rounds fired during the wait, both sounding as if they were from outside, from their
group. She wondered if maybe she and Jackson had gotten most of the enemy in there.

  Get Dev safe first, and then deal with that.

  The lightning flashed, though much dimmer this time, a double flash, and she saw a row of tall trees, cedars maybe, and a low fence behind them. It looked like another parking area over there to her left. The fence was climbable for her and Jackson, though for Dev, one-handed, it might be a challenge. The fence behind the parking lot was tall, eight feet, and it seemed to continue on to stretching behind the next lot as well.

  “It’s okay this way,” she said. “Not ideal. How is it over there?”

  “Concrete wall blocks some of the view.”

  “Do you remember what this building over my way looked like?”

  “It was a single story. And it seemed empty when I was watching the street.”

  “Let’s go this way. There’s a short fence, but I’m sure Dev can manage it, right?”

  “What?” Dev said.

  “Fence. Can you climb?”

  “Yeah. Where we going?”

  “Back to the jail to regroup,” she said. “Need help up?”

  “I got him,” Jackson said. “You take point. I can’t see much, so warn me of any obstacles.”

  “Will do,” she said, and she slid the goggles back down over her eyes, made sure there were no humans moving anywhere, and trotted over the pavement toward the line of cedars.

  “Slower,” hissed Jackson.

  She slowed to a walk, scanning on all sides.

  She made the cedars and covered Jackson, who had his arm on Dev’s back and looked ready to catch him if he fell. Dev staggered a step to the side, but then caught himself and marched forward again.

  They were almost to the cedars when another lightning strike blinded her. She had her eyes closed within a fraction of a second, but that didn’t help the eye that had gotten the night vision blast of light. She pushed the goggles up. Not much to see with her good eye, not in this dark.

  “I need to wait a minute before I can see again,” she said, as the men caught up to her.

  Dev leaned against the fence. “Use my scope,” he said, fumbling with his rifle strap.

  “I have it,” Jackson said. “Just hang on there.”

  Sierra waited for Jackson to report. “It looks clear this way. I’ll go over the fence first. You give balance to Dev while he’s coming over, okay, Sierra?”

  “Will do,” she said.

  Dev grumbled about being helped, but he needed it. His bandaged hand was nearly useless. And, when Sierra took that arm to help him balance, it was wet—whether with rain or fresh blood, she didn’t know.

  “Let’s go around the other side of the building,” Jackson said.

  “Okay, wait a sec,” said Sierra, climbing over the fence after Dev. She opened her bad eye again, but she still had the afterimages of the lightning blasting her vision. It’d take more time than this to recover. “I’m good.”

  “Warn Mom, so she doesn’t shoot at us,” Dev said.

  “When we get up to the front of the building I will,” Sierra reassured him.

  “Let’s go,” Jackson said.

  Halfway across the parking lot, another lightning flash illuminated the world. Unfortunately, it illuminated them as well. Sierra’s skin crawled again, as she imagined someone lining her up for a shot. “Jog over to the side,” she hissed at Jackson, and she grabbed Dev’s arm and pushed at him, first one way, and then she dragged him back the other.

  “Geez, Sierra,” Dev said, fighting to stay upright.

  “Sorry,” she said, steadying him. “Felt like we were naked targets out here. I wanted to avoid being shot.”

  “Building just ahead,” Jackson said.

  They made the back of the building and then followed the wall around to the far side. There were plants underfoot, bushes that tried to trip them, so they walked six feet out from the building, along a curb.

  Dev slid off it and fell to his knees. “Crap,” he said.

  Jackson flicked on his penlight, leaving it on a second, enough for Sierra to see Dev kneeling there, swaying a bit.

  As the light flicked off, Sierra helped Dev up. “Only a little bit more,” she said to him. “You can make it.”

  “I’m fine,” he said, petulant.

  “I know you are.”

  “Shh,” Jackson said, as they neared the front corner of the building.

  Sierra made sure Dev had his balance and moved up to whisper in Jackson’s ear. “I need to signal Kelly.”

  “Go on then.”

  Sierra licked her lips and again whistled the signal for “friend.”

  An answering whistle came from a few dozen yards to their right.

  “Go,” she said to Jackson. She reached back for Dev, made sure he was moving, and walked alongside him across the street, feeling vulnerable. They made the jail entrance.

  Jackson knocked on the door. Three, then two.

  Light spilled out onto them as the door opened. Sierra pushed Dev ahead, and followed him in. Jackson entered last. The lamp lit the first room. The peacock guy was standing there, looking shocked.

  “My God, what happened?” he said.

  In the lamplight, Sierra could see them for the first time. She and Dev both had blood on them, and the rain had spread it. They looked liked they’d been rolling around on the floor of a slaughterhouse. “It’s Dev, and it’s only one cut,” she said.

  “Must have bled bad,” the man said. The name came back to her—Lambert.

  “You got this, Sierra?” Jackson said. “I want to get back out there.”

  “I’ll come with you,” she said. “Mr. Lambert, please take care of Dev. Get his hand wrapped better if it needs it, okay?”

  “Okay. Here, Dev, come and have a seat.” He led him back into the next room, and Sierra felt a wave of relief for knowing he’d be cared for.

  Jackson said to her, “You okay on ammo?”

  “Just filled three magazines. I have another twenty or so rounds in a box. I’m okay.”

  “Good. Let’s get back out there to Kelly.”

  “How many down of the enemy, do you figure?”

  “No way to know.”

  “They sure weren’t shooting much by the time we came over here.”

  “Let’s hope they’re not saving it all up.”

  “Ready?” She adjusted her pack and her rifle.

  “We’re leaving,” he said, loudly enough for Lambert and Dev to hear. Then he jerked his head at the door.

  Sierra went first, checked the street, saw it was clear, and again noted the lights were out in the building across the way. She turned her head to say, “They put the lights out.”

  “Should have done it sooner,” Jackson said.

  She slipped her goggles back down over her eyes. Her eye had recovered from the shock of the lightning. She saw the forms of several people outside—her people, Kelly and the men from the jail. They were hiding behind whatever cover they could find. One form was cooler than the rest. “I think we have a man down.”

  “Yeah,” Jackson said. “One of the baton guys got hit.”

  “Dead?”

  “Yep.”

  “Damn. We need to check in with Kelly.”

  “Go on.”

  She ran across the street, saying, “It’s me.” No sense in whistling. Most of these guys wouldn’t know the whistled signals. A female voice should reassure them.

  “Who is it?” one of the men said, his voice strained and nervous.

  “Sierra and Jackson. Where’s Kelly?” She was scanning the group but saw no one short enough to be Dev’s mom.

  “She went around back to make sure they don’t sneak out that way,” a different man said. “Not fifteen seconds ago.”

  “How many are left?” Jackson asked.

  “Not many, and they haven’t fired in four or five minutes,” said the first guy. He had a rifle in his hands, its barrel still glowing with heat. Sierra realized she didn�
��t know any of their names, hadn’t asked.

  “I think we should rush the building,” a third man said.

  “What’d Kelly tell you?” Sierra asked.

  “To wait for her signal,” the second man said.

  “Then we should wait for her signal. I’m seeing nothing inside.”

  “How can you with the lights off?”

  Jackson said, “She has night vision equipment.”

  “Wait here,” she said. “Take orders from Jackson while I’m gone.”

  Jackson said, “Where are you going?” He laid his hand on her arm for a second.

  “To back up Kelly.”

  “She said she’d shoot anybody coming from any direction,” said one of the Paysonites.

  “I’ll be fine,” Sierra said. “We have our own signals.”

  “Be careful,” Jackson said.

  “You guys too. If nothing happens in ten minutes, I’d retreat to the jail if we aren’t back, for safety’s sake. If any of those men in there made it out and went for reinforcements….” She left the thought to finish itself in their imaginations. “Jackson’s in charge until Kelly returns.”

  Then she jogged back up the side of the building, looking for heat signatures, and whistling for Kelly’s ears. Of course anyone would hear her whistling, and here in the city at night they’d be less likely to confuse it for a birdcall. But only Kelly and Jackson knew the meaning of the sound.

  She made it down the driveway without seeing anyone. At the corner of the building, she saw a figure climbing the back fence and another sprawled on the pavement partway there. She raised the rifle and aimed, but she couldn’t tell if the climber was Kelly or not. She whistled, but a burst of wind stole the sound.

  Sierra ran for the truck again, making sure she was hidden from the back windows of the building, and as the person dropped over the fence, she yelled, “Kelly!” as loudly as she could.