by Bowman, Dave
Then, it happened. Jack's pistol jammed.
He pulled the trigger – nothing happened. He pulled again – nothing.
He tried to clear the jam. He couldn't.
But then the other guy stopped firing, too.
Jack struggled to see. He couldn't get a good view of what the other guy was doing. Was he reloading? Was he pretending?
Jack had three options.
He could wait there to die.
He could run away and get shot in the back.
He could rush the guy.
If his opponent was reloading, Jack didn't have much time. If Jack took too long, he was dead.
And if it was a bluff, Jack was dead.
There was no more time to think.
He pushed himself up to his feet, then ran around the car at full blast.
Jack could see him now as he closed the distance. The guy was reloading. He glanced up as Jack came within feet of him. He slammed the magazine home and raised the rifle to fire.
But he was too late. Jack latched onto the rifle just as the guy was lifting it. Jack turned the barrel to the side. He was about to grab control of it, but the guy held on tight.
They struggled over the gun. Jack bore down, pressing the rifle downward. The guy grunted and struggled to retain control.
Jack gained the advantage as he pushed the gun toward his throat.
The guy kicked Jack off of him, sending him over to the side.
But Jack didn't let go of the gun. It came along as Jack went flying onto his side.
His opponent sprang to his feet. He charged at Jack, his eyes big and crazed.
Jack swung his weapon into position.
Aimed. Fired.
The guy stopped in his tracks, then fell down to his knees. A pool of blood was already forming on the pavement.
He toppled over. He lay there, his eyes still open but unblinking. He was dead.
Jack pushed himself up and took off toward the fence.
32
Annie had to stop the bleeding.
She ran to Charlotte's side and fell to her knees in the grass. She stared at her friend.
Just for a moment, she felt paralyzed. Then she pushed herself into action.
Annie reached inside the car. Charlotte's fleece jacket was on the seat. Annie grabbed it.
With shaking hands, she looked at Charlotte's torso. Her blue cotton shirt was soaked with blood, and Annie couldn't see where the wound was.
She lifted Charlotte's shirt to get a better look.
Charlotte had been shot on her side, just below her rib cage. There were two wounds – one on the front of her torso and one on the back. That meant the bullet had exited her body. That was good.
But the amount of blood flowing out was not so good. There was so much blood. The sight of it gripped Annie in fear. But she forced herself to move past that.
Annie pressed the fleece jacket against both wounds.
But the blood kept seeping out. Annie could feel the warm liquid saturating the fleece. It was coming out so fast that her hands were wet.
Annie felt a wave of horror flood through her core. This couldn't be happening! She couldn't lose Charlotte. If she could only stop the bleeding!
Annie's mind raced. She felt wholly unqualified for this job. She had never learned anything beyond basic first aid. And the sight and smell of blood made her feel nauseous.
But she knew applying pressure was supposed to stop the bleeding. She was doing that – why wasn't it working?
They needed a hospital. They needed an ambulance.
Annie looked down at the jacket that was quickly becoming saturated with the deep red liquid. Charlotte's face was white. She was losing too much blood.
It's not working! What do I do? What do I do?
“Annie,” Charlotte muttered.
Until now, Charlotte had been quiet. Annie looked at her. Charlotte's blue eyes were as round as saucers.
“He – he shot me,” Charlotte said.
She was stunned. And she was probably in shock, Annie realized.
But how should shock be treated? It reminded Annie of the other day when Charlotte had gone into adrenal crisis. She had needed her hydrocortisone. Should Annie give her one of those pills now?
“Shhh,” Annie said. “Everything's okay. We're going to stop the bleeding.”
Charlotte's eyes looked skyward, at nothing in particular. But she was still talking, and Annie took that as a good sign.
“Am I going to die, Annie?”
“Don't be ridiculous,” Annie said, trying to reassure her friend. “I'm going to get you patched up. And you'll be fine.”
But Annie herself felt terrified – much more than she let on.
The fleece jacket was soaked. She needed something else.
Annie stood up. She was shaking, unsteady on her feet. She had to find something to stop the bleeding.
“Don't leave me,” Charlotte mumbled.
“Don't worry,” Annie said as she moved to the car. “I'm just getting some supplies. I'll be right back.”
Annie tried to move as quickly as possible without alarming Charlotte. She glanced at Harvey, the man still unconscious on the ground. He wasn't a threat at the moment. Still, she was careful not to turn her back to him.
Then she rummaged through their bags. She had packed some first aid supplies from Dan's house. Her hands flew over the items in the suitcase. She was out of breath from exertion and stress. Finally, she found what she needed.
She opened the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and knelt beside Charlotte again. She poured the clear liquid into the wound in the front of Charlotte's body. Charlotte flinched, drawing in air through her gritted teeth.
“I'm sorry,” Annie said. “I know it hurts. But I have to disinfect it.”
Annie wasn't sure she was doing the right thing. But she knew Charlotte would be at risk of infection. Germs were all around them, on their clothes and the surface of their skin. And a bullet had just torn through Charlotte's torso, exposing her insides to every pathogen around.
Annie lifted Charlotte's hips to get at the exit wound on her back. She poured some peroxide on that wound as well.
Now, she had to find a way to stop the bleeding. There were several rolls of gauze. Annie quickly unwound it and applied many thick folds of the gauze to both wounds.
Then, she applied pressure with her palms to both wounds. This time, she paid attention to how she positioned her own body. Keeping her elbows straight, she could apply more force. She pressed into the wounds, praying that the bleeding would stop.
She kept applying pressure for several minutes. When the gauze became soaked, Annie considered removing it and applying fresh material. But she saw that some clotting had begun, and she figured that removing the gauze would just cause more bleeding. So she kept it there, but she applied fresh cloth on top of the gauze.
She looked at Charlotte, who lay there with her eyes closed. The rise and fall of Charlotte's chest reassured Annie that she was still holding on. But Charlotte didn't look so well. She was pale. Her lips had taken on a blue tinge.
She was in shock, but Annie couldn't deal with that at the moment. Stopping the bleeding was the priority. That much was obvious. Annie kept applying pressure.
Finally, she looked down at the wounds.
Annie was filled with relief.
The last folds of gauze had not been soaked through. The bleeding seemed to be slowing down.
Annie felt a surge of hope. Maybe Charlotte would make it! Maybe she would be okay.
After a few minutes more, Annie broke into a smile. The bleeding had stopped.
It was a miracle that the gauze had worked. Annie felt tears of joy stream down her face. She had come way too close to losing her best friend.
Annie found a roll of medical tape and secured the dressings in place. Returning to the car, she grabbed the blanket they had found in Dan's house and draped it over Charlotte.
“You're doing gr
eat, Char,” Annie said. “The bleeding's stopped.”
Annie returned to the car and searched through Charlotte's bag. She found her medication.
“Charlotte, do you think you need your pills right now?”
Charlotte opened her eyes slowly and stared at the sky.
“Pills?” she asked in a confused daze.
That answered Annie's question.
She propped her friend up in her own lap and helped her take a sip of water from a bottle, then pushed a pill in her mouth and instructed her to swallow.
Satisfied, Annie let Charlotte rest quietly. Annie checked on the wounds again. They appeared to be fine – the top layer of gauze was still dry.
She felt Charlotte's pulse at her neck. It seemed maybe a little weak, but not too bad.
Finally, Annie dragged the standing suitcase from the backseat of the Porsche. She positioned it on the grass beside Charlotte to block the blinding sun from the patient's face where she lay.
Annie collapsed next to Charlotte, exhausted, and caught her breath. She smiled down at her friend. Annie felt her pounding heart finally slow down a bit.
They weren't out of the woods yet, but things were looking a lot better than they had twenty minutes before.
Annie looked over at Harvey, who was lying in the grass.
Suddenly, she felt an urge to shoot him. Red-hot rage pulsed through her limbs.
He had nearly killed her best friend. She hated him for what he had done.
She stood up, grabbed the .22, and aimed it at his head. She moved to flick the safety off, but she stopped herself.
Annie chewed on her lip. At the last second, she decided against it. She didn't want to further traumatize her friend by shooting someone just a few feet away. The stress could worsen Charlotte's not-yet-stable condition. And besides, both of them had suffered some hearing loss from too many guns being fired at close range the past few days. Annie didn't want to go deaf.
She stood over Harvey, disgusted. She had met plenty of cowboy types around Jack's ranch in Loretta. Most of them had been perfect gentlemen, not murdering thieves like this one.
What to do with him?
Finally, she remembered the rope she had taken from Dan's house. The nylon cordage their captor had used to tie up Charlotte – Annie had had the foresight to pack it in one of their bags. She would put it to good use now.
She bound Harvey's hands and feet, taking relish in getting the knots as tight as possible. He was still out cold, and didn't react.
Finally, she gave him a stout kick in his gut for good measure.
Then she snatched his cowboy hat up off the ground in a swift, defiant movement and planted it atop her own head of red curls.
The sun was hot, and she didn't want to get sunburned.
33
Jack's ears were ringing, but he could still hear them coming for him.
Jack climbed the fence with the rifle strap over his shoulder, then jumped down to the pavement on the other side.
He ran at full speed through the rear parking lot of a large pharmacy.
Behind him, he heard voices shouting. Two or three people had caught up to the guard Jack had shot in the motel parking lot. They were shouting for help. They began searching the area for their escaped prisoner.
Jack ran through the back lot of a shopping center, crossing the area at a diagonal. He tried to take cover behind garbage dumpsters and cars as much as possible as he ran.
He hoped he would disappear in the darkness.
But they still spotted him.
“There he is!” a woman's voice shouted.
A moment later, they began firing.
Jack kept running. He scaled a low concrete wall at the edge of the shopping center lot. He crossed the street, pushing himself to run faster.
The guns stopped. Jack had gotten too far away from them.
Then the sound of engines started.
They were getting into vehicles to search the area for him.
Do I hide? Or try to lose them? Jack wondered, his heart pounding as the sound of the vehicles grew louder.
He didn't stop as he ran around a fast food restaurant. When he rounded the corner of the building, though, he hesitated.
There was too much empty space until the next opportunity to take cover. Another strip of small stores began several yards away.
The distance was too long to cross without cover. He would be spotted before he could make it.
He glanced in the restaurant. Maybe he should hide while the cars were out looking for him.
But no, that wouldn't work either.
The windows were busted out. The business had already been raided – probably by the people on his trail now. They already knew the building and would likely root him out of any hiding place he found.
He pushed himself on.
Jack tore across the parking lot toward the next strip mall. He counted the seconds as he ran.
One, two.
He willed his legs to move faster. He listened for the vehicles.
Three.
He could hear a pickup truck that was getting closer. Sounded like it was a couple blocks away.
Four.
Another vehicle drew closer. He could hear shouting in the distance.
Five, six.
The truck was a block away. He could hear its engine revving as it sped down the street.
Seven, eight.
Jack was in sight of the outer wall of the first building – a donut shop. He just needed another couple seconds.
Nine.
He rounded the corner. He turned to the right, behind the row of stores and out of view of the nearest road.
A short distance away, the truck turned onto the road and drove slowly past the stores.
Jack slowed his pace.
As long as they were on the road, they couldn't see his position behind the building. But they were close enough to hear him.
He ducked behind a garbage dumpster and waited.
The truck stopped.
Jack listened. It was quiet for a moment.
“I told you he's not on this street!” a man's voice said. “Go!”
The truck took off again, blaring down the road toward the east, then turned south.
Jack waited a bit more, then came out of his hiding spot. Running lightly behind the row of buildings, he moved quickly, quietly.
At the end of the strip, he turned north.
He took off behind a large apartment complex, then crossed the street onto another block. Every few yards, he would stop and listen.
Jack could still hear the vehicles, but the sound was fading. He knew he needed to be vigilant, though. Anyone could be waiting for him on the street or in a building.
Jack kept to the shadows as much as possible.
He crossed through the backyards and parking lots for several blocks. This new area he was moving through seemed to be quieter. Maybe people were asleep. Or maybe the gang hadn't fully taken over this part of the city.
Finally, he arrived within sight of the interstate. Taking cover behind two abandoned cars in front of a department store, he watched and waited for any movement.
He knew the gang had guards posted along the interstate. They were on the lookout for any car they could steal or people they could ambush.
But for several minutes, Jack didn't see or hear anything.
He weighed his options.
Before he could make his next big move, he needed food and drink. A little rest wouldn't hurt, either. The area he was in seemed deserted of people, but also of anything edible. It had been combed clean. And besides, he needed some time to think and make his next plan. He couldn't let his guard down this close to C Block.
He might have better luck on the other side of I-10. From what he could tell, the gang's territory was concentrated around the south and west of the city. Maybe they hadn't expanded into this area. Or maybe they didn't have many guards this far east.
He decided to try his
luck going under the nearest interstate overpass.
Jack inched toward it, scanning the area. Those guys knew how to hide well. That was how Jack, Naomi and Brent had been ambushed the day before. So he didn't want to be fooled by what seemed like an empty bridge.
He got to the underpass and looked around. Empty. He kept the rifle on the ready and moved slowly.
Every gust of wind, every leaf falling from a tree, had him jump into fight mode. But each time, he was surprised to find no one there.
Soon, he was on the other side. His shoulder loosened a bit as he walked away, north of the interstate.
He was amazed. How had he crossed I-10 without a run-in?
Still on alert, he moved farther north. After a block or two, he suddenly understood why the area was deserted.
A chill ran down his spine.
He had walked right into the bombed-out downtown.
The darkness had tricked him at first. He hadn't noticed the minor damage to the buildings near the interstate. But now, as he moved closer toward the city center, he began to see toppled structures and piles of rubble.
The smell assaulted his senses. An acrid, smoky, chemical odor mixed with rotting organic matter. His stomach turned.
Even at that pre-dawn hour, he could see the blackened stains of smoke on the broken sidewalks and the walls that were still standing. Broken glass crunched under his feet.
He was inside the blast radius.
Up ahead, the damage was more severe. Jack saw dead, decaying bodies in the next block, smashed under bricks. Vehicles were flipped, thrown against walls.
And beyond that, on the horizon, the city was leveled.
Jack could just make out the remnants of the city center up ahead.
Buildings were flattened. Charred, smoky debris was everywhere. Only the skeletons of a few buildings remained. A few steel and concrete structures still stood over the heaps of destruction.
The city center, along with everything and everyone in it, had been devastated.
He walked a bit farther, looking at the sea of destruction before him. Here, objects' surfaces had changed colors. The intense thermal radiation from the blast had bleached them like photographic film being exposed.
