“It’s gonna be okay,” said Harper. “We’ll get you to the med center and Dr. Hale or Khan will fix it.”
He groaned, eyes closing.
“Don’t go to sleep. C’mon, Mr. Beasley. Stay with me.” Harper shook him and touched his neck, checking for a pulse, which he still had, though irregular.
Darnell arrived first, skidding to a stop by the porch and also dropping to one knee. “Oh, shit.”
“Yeah. We need to get him to the med center fast. He’s too big for me to carry.”
“He’s big for me to carry.” Darnell slung his rifle over his shoulder. “Check the house for aspirin.”
Marcie jogged up. “Aww, dammit.”
“Maybe the four of us can carry him?” asked Harper.
While Darnell and Marcie got into a rapid debate trying to decide if they should carry him or run for the body cart, an old construction trailer that generally served now for the transportation of corpses, Harper ran inside.
She went straight to the bathroom medicine cabinet. Turned out, he did have aspirin. She grabbed the bottle—despite thinking it ridiculous. Aspirin for a heart attack felt like putting a Band-Aid on a blown-off leg, but Darnell sounded like he knew something. She rushed outside, dropped to her knees by Mr. Beasley, and fed him a tablet.
Mr. Beasley lost consciousness.
“No!” shouted Harper. She tried to lift him to roll on his back, but couldn’t manage it.
Darnell and Marcie helped. As soon as they got him flipped, Harper pressed her ear to his chest.
“He’s still got a heartbeat.”
“Still breathing,” said Darnell, holding a hand over the man’s face.
“Hey!” Darci jogged out from the corner of the house with a big wheelbarrow. “Found this in the yard.”
“That works.” Darnell jumped up.
All four of them working together hoisted the big guy into the wheelbarrow. Grunting, Darnell managed to lift the handles and get him moving. No way could he manage going over uneven terrain, so they followed the street south to Lewis Ridge Road and took that west to Route 74, which went straight to the medical center.
Once they reached the highway, progress sped up a little.
Ken Zhang rolled up on a mountain bike, also responding to the 911 call, though he’d been farther away. He jumped off the bike, shoved it to Harper, then took one handle of the wheelbarrow, helping Darnell and allowing them to move faster.
Unfortunately, the wheelbarrow wouldn’t fit through the door of the medical center. With everyone grabbing hold, they managed to collectively lift Mr. Beasley and carry him inside, going straight to the nearest treatment room while Ruby Dorsey—the woman who staffed the counter out front—darted into the back, shouting for a doctor.
Both Tegan (Dr. Hale) and Dr. Khan rushed in to check on Mr. Beasley. Grace, as well, joined them as an apprentice. Harper and the other militia backed out into the hall to give them room.
“What happened?” asked Ken.
“I was just walking my usual route and saw him lying on the ground.”
Ken bowed his head, shaking it. “Poor guy.”
Marcie grimaced. “Damn. That sucks.”
“Is that dude gonna be okay?” whispered Darci.
Darnell scratched behind his ear. “Dunno. Ain’t lookin’ too good.”
Harper leaned against the wall beside Darci. “I feel bad.”
“Don’t feel too bad. That guy’s huge. No way you could have done anything.” Darci scratched her left shin with her toes.
“Not that. I mean, the guy was kinda rude and aggressive. I feel guilty for thinking poorly of him.”
Darci cupped Harper’s chin and pulled her head around so they made eye contact. “We need to have an intervention. Your empathy is in overdrive.”
“Hah.”
“Seriously. You told me the dude almost shot you.” Darci let go of her. “You don’t need to feel guilty over a guy like that. But, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”
“Thanks.” Harper sighed at the floor.
Everyone stood around in relative silence for a while. Eventually, Dr. Khan emerged from the room. The look on his face said they’d lost him.
“Too late?” asked Darnell.
“Unfortunately, there was nothing we could have done. He didn’t respond to blood thinners and we don’t have the equipment for cardiac catheterization. CPR and oxygen were ineffective as well. The man’s heart just gave up.”
Harper un-leaned from the wall and walked over. “Doc? Would he have made it if, you know… we still had real 911 and ambulances and stuff?”
Dr. Khan made a ‘who can say’ gesture. “Only about five percent of those who suffer sudden cardiac arrest survive. It’s impossible to say for certain that he’d have survived otherwise, though proper EMTs arriving with the equipment on an ambulance might have made a difference here.”
“You did as much as you could.” Darnell rested a hand on her shoulder.
“I guess. Wouldn’t have even been on patrol here in the real world, right? No one would’ve found him until way later when people came home from work.” She exhaled. “He’d have been long dead by then.”
“Good point.” Marcie forced a smile she clearly didn’t believe in.
“Guess I should go get the cart,” muttered Harper.
“Not yet.” Ken shook his head. “Wait until they get a grave dug for him. Better he stay in here where it’s cooler than lay out on that thing in the sun.”
Dr. Khan returned to the treatment room.
Harper, Darci, and the militia went outside under a cloud of grimness.
“You guys hear anything about the Weldon case?” asked Harper after the door shut behind her.
“Doc said he’d been killed probably around one or two in the morning.” Ken mimicked stabbing himself in the chest. “Three stab wounds, no other injuries.”
“Roy’s been interviewing people from the farm,” said Marcie. “Hooper and Sanchez were on sentry duty that night. Hooper said he heard a muffled noise, but figured someone staggered out of Earl’s bar and fell. Couldn’t find anyone in the dark.”
Harper fidgeted, shifting her weight from leg to leg. “I’m pretty sure Weldon died somewhere else and got dragged into the tomato plants. Maybe Hooper heard the killer struggling to move the body.”
“Could be.” Darnell nodded. “Far as I know, Roy hasn’t come up with anything yet. No idea why anyone would want to attack the guy. Not like robbery’s a motive anymore.”
“Not for money. Maybe he had an expensive watch or gun or something.” Harper stared up Route 74 toward the farm. “Or we have a killer running around.”
“Ugh, don’t say that.” Marcie closed her eyes. “You’ll set off a panic.”
“People deserve to know they could be in danger.” Harper hooked her thumbs in her jean pockets. “We can’t just keep it quiet. What if the person who killed Weldon goes after someone else?”
Ken raised a placating hand. “Give Roy a little more time to get some facts before we let speculation run wild. The killing looked like an assassination. He thinks someone targeted Weldon specifically. Maybe even made him kneel to be executed.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” Harper patted her knee. “He had dirt on his jeans like he’d been kneeling, but who makes their victim kneel so they can stab them in the chest? And, he hadn’t been tied up.”
“The killer could’ve removed the rope when they dumped the body,” said Marcie.
“He’d have bruises or red marks on his wrists. Unless the guy wanted to die and didn’t fight at all. I looked at the body and didn’t see any—oh what the heck did they call it on Law & Order… umm, ‘defensive wounds.’ I don’t think he fought back.”
“Yeah. Harper’s right,” said Darci. “Even like fifteen minutes of struggling against ropes leaves marks on your wrists. And I wasn’t even afraid for my life and seriously fighting.”
Harper gawked at her. “What happened?”
“Relax. Dylan was into kinky stuff.”
Ken, Darnell, and Marcie all coughed and fidgeted uncomfortably.
“I, uhh, didn’t think you were into that.” Harper blushed.
“I’m not. Just gave it a try because he wanted to.” Darci shrugged.
“Okay then,” said Darnell in a loud voice. “So, he wasn’t executed. What was he kneeling for?”
“Praying?” asked Ken.
“He’s a farm worker.” Harper thrust her left arm out in the direction of the fields. “Why are we assuming he got dirt on his jeans at the moment he died? He could’ve been kneeling by a row of plants all damn day.”
“Oh, true. The dirt could be meaningless.” Ken chuckled. “Roy’s probably already dismissed it for that same reason.”
“Yeah.” Marcie picked at the AR-15 strap over her chest. “Not like the guy worked inside the quartermaster’s building. Dirt on his clothes wouldn’t be unusual.”
“If he died at around one in the morning, he definitely wouldn’t have been working on the farm,” said Harper. “But his clothes still had dirt on them. Did he go to Earl’s?”
“Pretty sure Roy checked, and no one remembered him being there.” Darnell swiped at a fly buzzing by his ear. “The five of them, Weldon and the people he showed up in town with, haven’t really been the most social sort of people. Friendly enough if you go up to them, but they keep to themselves.”
Harper furrowed her brow while thinking. “Could he have been stabbed in his sleep? That’s easier to believe than he didn’t try to fight back at all.”
“Possible.” Ken smiled. “Sounds like you’re trying to take over Roy’s investigation.”
“Nah, not really. Just worrying that there could be someone going around town killing random people.” Harper gestured to the door. “I should get back to my zone. Thanks for the backup.”
“Hey, that’s what we do.” Darnell winked. “We’re a team.”
“I wish there’s more we could have done for Mr. Beasley.” Harper sighed.
“Can’t save everyone. All we can do is try.” Ken picked the mountain bike up onto its wheels and got on. “Stay safe, all.”
Harper plodded back up Route 74 to her patrol area.
“You sure you don’t want a hit or two, take the edge off?” asked Darci, following her.
Harper shook her head, then grinned. “Nah. I’m on duty.”
7
Explorers
Mila Cline didn’t enjoy working on the farm, mostly because it made wearing black uncomfortable.
The July sun definitely didn’t get along with dark dresses. Having turned ten a few days ago on the 19th, she’d ended up in the group of kids ‘old enough’ to be required to help out doing light farm work. Lugging a bag of chicken feed around definitely beat sitting in a cage, her hands tied behind her back, but she’d much rather just be a kid and try to forget about the Shadow Man entirely.
Even though she’d watched Harper blast the guy right in the face and knew for a fact that the men who kidnapped her and forcibly trained her for several months had died, every sufficiently dark shadow still gave her a prickle of fear that one of them might still be out there. Mila didn’t blame her new, adoptive mother for what happened to her real mom. The woman also hadn’t requested they reassign Mila to someone else for being too weird and creepy. In fact, the stranger she acted, the more protective and nurturing the woman became. As if her new mom thought any mental problems could be fixed by pouring on ever increasing amounts of love.
Not that Mila would ever admit it to anyone but her new mother, but she kinda liked that. Her real mom hadn’t been physically affectionate, so it took getting used to being constantly squeezed, kissed, head-patted, and checked in on. At times, it grew annoying, but again… she much preferred that to a crazy assassin cult holding her prisoner.
Yeah, as far as she figured, she’d been messed up in the head by that experience. But, normal was boring. And she could reliably hit a target the size of a human eye at twenty paces with a leaf knife. That had to count for something? Even though no one would crack a wooden paddle across her across the backside if she missed the target anymore, she still feared not being perfect—so practiced throwing at least an hour every day. That fear didn’t come from any threat of punishment, but from knowing that a missed throw could kill her or one of her friends. Since she was not an assassin, the only time she’d whip a leaf knife at someone involved self-defense. So… missing would be bad.
In between grumbling at schoolwork, grumbling about farm work, honing her skills, and trying not to have too many nightmares, Mila occasionally attempted another challenging task: being a child. That Madison girl had been a total basket case at first, clinging to a dead cell phone expecting her dead parents to call, but she’d gotten better. Mila suspected Madison’s brother Jonathan liked her in a ‘let’s hold hands’ kinda way. She didn’t really know how to process that. Her new mother had acclimated her to being touched in good ways, hugs, kisses atop the head, and so on. So if the boy ever made a move to grab her hand, she probably wouldn’t break his nose. Her real parents had been nice, but emotionally remote. Mother cared more about her work with the symphony than anything else, and her father had been devoted to his job at the chemical place.
As much as it felt wrong, she almost preferred her current adoptive mother to her bio parents.
Since the real threat of the Shadow Man was gone, Mila no longer went out of her way to act like an even more psycho version of Wednesday Addams. Even though it bothered her to be ridiculed and avoided, that bugged her less than having to see the Shadow Man kill—or abduct—any kids who might be near her at the time he showed up to drag her back to the hideout. Mila didn’t have any unusual talents or abilities prior to being taken off the street, so that guy would probably have grabbed any kid small enough to train.
The strangest part of living in Evergreen had been having friends. In her old life, she’d rarely gone outside or played with other kids. Most of her time went to reading or video games. She doubted her bio parents would have let her spend time among ‘normal’ children, thinking them beneath her. Not that they’d been tremendously wealthy, but they definitely didn’t count as middle class. Her father was an executive or someone pretty high up.
In a way, Mila smiled at the idea of money being gone. She didn’t miss the huge house or all the boring people who’d show up to her parents’ social events. The friends she’d made here beat any amount of money.
And they definitely beat a locked cell.
Yeah, she hated the Shadow Man’s hideout even more than her father’s stuffy parties and friends. She’d never chewed through rope and gone out a window to get away from her parents’ awful music. Of course, her parents never tied her up in a locked cell, so perhaps that didn’t make for a fair comparison. The childish fear she once had for the Shadow Man, believing him a genuine supernatural being capable of using magic had become a mixture of loathing and contempt. What kind of idiot would forcibly train a kid against their will and keep them captive? Wouldn’t he expect them to attempt to kill him or eventually escape? Or did he think they’d eventually crack in the head and go along with it? It had probably been his goal to make her crazy. The worst beating she’d ever received from him came after she refused to shoot a captive man to death ‘as a test.’
Mila kicked a rock off the side of the street, deciding not to think about the Shadow Man anymore. Harper killed him for real. All Mila had to do was kill his memory.
She’d gone with her friends, Jonathan, Madison, Eva, Becca, Christopher, and little Lorelei, out exploring again. Since the town’s attempt at restoring electrical power had been off more than on lately, they’d all kinda given up on the video game system Jonathan found. Today, they’d headed east along Hidden Village Drive. The road didn’t have many houses on it, but Christopher insisted a big one sat all the way at the end.
Of their group, only Jonathan had shoes, but they all wor
e mismatched clothes a little too big for them. Mila didn’t mind going barefoot as it let her be quiet and sneak around if she had to. She also didn’t mind the old, worn dress her new mother had gotten from the town, but would’ve preferred it in black. At least blue didn’t suck too badly. Not like she got stuck in pink. Or worse, white like Lorelei. No way could anyone hide at night in a white dress. Jeans like Madison’s would be best for fighting, but the Shadow Man hadn’t taught her much about that since she’d been too small. Black yoga pants or leggings with a black shirt made for the best ‘hidey’ clothes. Those, she’d left at home since she didn’t plan on sneaking anywhere; plus, they made for miserably hot attire on the farm.
The people who’d done the scavenging had evidently not paid much attention to kid-sized shoes. Mila—and most of the tweens in town—ended up in a size void where all the shoes in the quartermaster’s were either way too little, or too big for them. Mila still had the sneakers she’d worn the day she’d crawled out of the collapsed ruin of her house. Madison and Eva had their old sneakers, too, but thought it too warm to wear them and so didn’t bother. Lorelei sometimes took that idea to the extreme, considering it too warm for clothing at all—though she’d been doing that less and less lately. Mila figured Harper yelled at her for it.
“We should go to the pool. This is kinda boring,” said Becca.
“Swimming!” cheered Lorelei. “I like swimming.”
Mila looked over her friends while walking at the back of the group.
Jonathan, she both trusted and liked. He had a protective nature toward the other kids, even Christopher who was older than him by a year. Some people had teased and even attacked him for being Chinese because they thought he’d had something to do with the nukes. She guessed his real parents had been killed over that due to the way he freaked out whenever someone complained about Chinese people starting the war.
Christopher Dominguez, the oldest of their group at twelve, probably also counted as the smartest. Mila regarded him as a bit of a nerd, but not in a bad way. The world needed some nerds if it would ever go back to normal. He possessed a gentleness that didn’t seem terribly boy-like, which meant if anything happened, she’d likely have to protect him.
Evergreen (Book 4): Nuclear Summer Page 7
