Wolf gave his head a modest shake. “I write songs, that’s all. Beethoven and Bach were composers. I’m just a rock singer.”
Ariel stood back and smiled. “Oh, you are so much more than that, Danny Wolf. Will you do something for me?”
“Yes, anything, Ariel. Just name it and it’s yours.”
“Will you compose a song for me?”
CHAPTER 14
Eastern Mississippi, July 5th.
Two days after the arrival
Jason La Chance was dreaming. In the dream he felt heat on his face and heard the agonized screams of women and children. He was in Fallujah, Iraq and Al Qaeda troops were burning the city and executing civilians. The loud boom of an explosion woke him. He came up off his sleeping bag and reflexively grabbed his assault rifle, gripping it tightly in the defensive position as he waited for his heart to settle down. Automatic weapons’ fire rattled in the distance like an asthmatic’s cough, followed quickly by the boom of another explosion. That’s when he realized he wasn’t in Iraq but in a tobacco field somewhere in Mississippi, or was it Alabama? At the same moment he realized that the explosions he was hearing weren’t explosions at all but the sound of twelve gauge shotgun blasts.
The tent was lighted from the outside as if a powerful spotlight shown on it. Jason jumped to his feet and slid out through the opening. The tobacco barn they’d camped near was engulfed in flame, as was the tent in which Danielle had slept. Jason sprinted toward it, but she was nowhere to be seen.
“Danielle!” he screamed. “Charlee!” No answer. Dawn had not yet risen and he could see nothing beyond the immediate brightness of the blazing tobacco barn. Suddenly there were dark running forms and firing from every direction. Jason dove behind Danielle’s BMW mesmerized by the red and orange rush of flames. Come on, you need to wake up. You need to snap out of this. He knew he could not fire his weapon until he had his bearings, until he knew exactly who he was shooting at.
A quick spat of handgun fire from the direction of the truck drew his attention and brought him all the way back from the deep coma of sleep he’d been in. His feet came unglued and he made a rush for the truck. Automatic weapons’ fire stitched the ground just ahead of him. This time he saw his assailant and raised his weapon, pulling the trigger. A short burst hit the man, making him dance like a marionette before he collapsed on the ground. From Jason’s left came another burst. It missed, but not by much. Jason swung his weapon around, depressed the trigger and blew the man away.
Jason kept running. He was almost at the truck. He dove in front of it and rolled just as two men dressed in camouflage clothing came around the other side. Both men saw him. One held a grenade launcher. The second man swung his weapon around but Jason was faster, unleashing a short volley. The man danced like he’d been hit with a Taser before collapsing in the dirt. The man with the grenade launcher was busy aiming at the truck, but a burst of gunfire from the rear window brought him down. Good job, Charlee.
Jason heard movement to his right, and in the next second Slim Pickard was lying in the dust beside him. “You okay, boss?” Slim said.
“Yeah, how about you?”
“I’m fine. Some things you never forget.”
“Such as?”
“1st Battalion, 22nd Infantry, 4th Infantry Division, Pleiku, Vietnam 1966 and 67. We operated out of a place called Three Church, worked directly with Special Forces. Tough times.”
“I heard of you guys,” Jason said taking Slim’s hand. “It’s an honor.”
“No more than what you did,” Slim said. “We all have our crosses to bear.”
“Listen, Slim, I’m worried about the girls. Charlee’s in the truck, but I haven’t seen Danielle.”
“I’ll go find her,” Slim said.
“No,” Jason said. “You stay here and keep an eye on Charlee. I’ll go.”
“You be careful, boss.”
“You too.”
Jason shot a glance toward the apocalyptic swell of orange fire against the blackness of night, scratched his way to his feet and began running in a low crouch. Almost immediately gunfire erupted, the metallic hacking that could only be the death rattle of an assault rifle. His adrenaline spiked as bullets stitched a line in the dirt toward him. He saw the short bursts of flame leaving the muzzle as the gunman fired. Running as fast as his legs would carry him, Jason lifted his weapon and depressed the trigger knowing his accuracy would be off. He was surprised when the firing ceased.
His adrenaline spiking even higher, Jason sprinted between the burning tobacco barn and Danielle’s BMW. His heart nearly stopped when he saw her lying still between two rows of tobacco plants just beyond the car.
“I’m okay,” she hissed as Jason slid in beside her. “I didn’t have a weapon. They would have killed me.”
“It’s okay,” Jason said. “You did the right thing.” He pulled the Glock from his belt and handed it to her. “You know how to use this?”
“I can aim and pull the trigger.”
“Good enough. She’s all ready to go.” Jason started to rise.
“Wait, you’re not leaving me here.”
“Too dangerous out there.”
“No way, I’m coming with you.”
“Stay close then.” On the way back to the truck gunfire flashed in two places and Jason’s heart plummeted as he heard a feminine cry. Then he heard two loud booms that could only be shotgun blasts.
A dark form ran toward them. Jason lifted his weapon, but it was Slim. “Charlee’s hit,” Slim said, his face ashen, his eyes filled with tears. “She jumped out of the truck and tried to make a run for it before I could stop her. She needs help bad. Oh dear Lordy, let her be okay.”
“Where is she?”
Slim took them to her. She was lying in the tall grass not twenty feet from the truck.
“Slim, keep guard!” Dawn had begun to rise as the burning barn threw orange light across the yard.
“Yes, boss, but I think we got em all.” Slim’s face was dripping sweat and his eyes were large white moons.
“They’ll send more,” Jason said bitterly. He dropped to his knees beside Charlee and passed his hands over her body finding the wet wound almost immediately. She was bleeding from her side, but she was breathing.
Danielle got down with him and gently felt Charlee’s side. “There are two wound holes,” she said. “I won’t know how bad they are until I can get her somewhere safe to examine her. She’s bleeding badly. We need a compress.”
Jason peeled off his t-shirt and balled it up. He pressed it against the wounds and Danielle held it there while he took off his belt and looped it around her waist, cinching it against the compress to create a constant pressure. Then he gathered her up in his arms and lifted her. Turning his back to the raging fire he carried her toward the truck.
She mumbled something unintelligible. He could feel her struggling to breathe. “Don’t try to talk,” he said. “I’ve got you. We’re getting you out of here.”
“Jason?”
“Be still, Charlee. Breathe.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I . . . I . . .” she said and then went quiet. Jason could feel her erratic breathing against his chest. His eyes burned with emotion as his heart filled with rage.
Slim had the truck door open when they got there. Jason laid Charlee down across the seat, bent over her and checked the compress. It was wet. He couldn’t tell if it was working or not. He backed out and let Danielle go in and examine her with the dome light on.
“She needs a hospital, and she needs one soon,” Danielle said. “But I’m not sure we should move her.”
“I don’t even know where we are,” Jason said in frustration. “Is there anything you can do here?”
“I can try. But I need medicine and bandages.”
“Charlee and I raided a Rite Aid before we left Texas. We’ve got all kinds of stuff.”
“Let
me see.”
Jason retrieved the container with the medical supplies. “Let’s see, we’ve got bandages, pain killers, antibiotics, sedatives.”
“First I should clean the wounds and make a determination about her condition,” Danielle said.
“That’ll have to do.”
“Jason, are we safe?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know why we’re being hunted, or how, but somehow they know our every move. I’m afraid if we stay here too long they’ll find us again.”
“How did they even get here?” Danielle said. She glanced over at the road and then out over the fields. “There isn’t a vehicle in sight.”
“Somebody must have dropped them off. That’s the only way I can think of.”
“So they will be back.”
“Almost certainly.”
An hour later they had Charlee on a cot in the shade of a live oak tree. The fire had burned the barn to ash and the sun was rising above the treetops. Charlee was sleeping. Danielle had given her a mild sedative along with antibiotics and had thoroughly examined her. There were no bullets in her. That was the good news. She’d been hit by one round which had entered her right back at an angle just above the beltline and exited her right front. Too low to hit a rib, too high to impact a hip bone. All soft flesh. Danielle did not think there were any broken bones. Luckily the bullet was copper jacketed and did not break up inside her. If it had, shrapnel would have done much more damage, probably destroyed a kidney or her liver. She would have died quickly. As it was, without x-rays, Danielle could not determine if there was any organ damage, but judging from the dark color of the blood it was almost a given. Both exit and entrance wounds had been thoroughly cleaned, disinfected and properly bandaged. The bad news was she had lost a lot of blood and needed a transfusion. Her skin was pasty white and her breathing was quick and shallow.
“How soon before we can move her?” Jason knew they were flirting with disaster staying here too long.
“I don’t know. What I do know is she needs proper medical care.”
Jason sighed. “That would be in a perfect world. After what’s happened, I’m not sure there is any such thing.”
Slim had been on watch through it all, patrolling the area for intruders. He had traded in his shotgun for an A-R 15 assault weapon. He came back with a report. “I count nine bodies,” he said. “No wounded. And we are now the proud owners of a grenade launcher. I found a pack with a dozen RPGs.”
“Why did they only send nine men?” Jason asked. “If they wanted us dead why not send fifty or a hundred. They could have won easily. Something doesn’t feel right about this whole thing.”
“Maybe there were more of them and some got away,” Slim said.
“Possible,” Jason said. “But I’m not sure I buy it.” He went out and examined each body thoroughly. They were all dressed primarily the same, military style combat clothing and boots. Military weapons. No ID of any kind. But these guys weren’t military. Jason had been in the Army long enough to know military when he saw it, and this wasn’t it. These guys were paramilitary. Trained well but inexperienced in real combat. Probably part of some civilian militia group. There could be only two possible scenarios, he reasoned. Either someone had organized very quickly following the pandemic, or they had been ready long before the plague was set free. The second scenario sent a chill running down Jason’s spine. Could this whole thing have been planned? Perhaps years ago? Was there a nationwide, perhaps a worldwide conspiracy to take control of governments, to perhaps reduce the human population?
If so, then why?
But these questions would have to wait. They had to get moving. His mind and body fairly vibrated with the urgent need to get across the continent as quickly as possible.
“I’ll go check on Danielle and Charlee,” Jason said to Slim. “You keep a look out and don’t forget that canteen on your belt. Stay hydrated.”
“Yeah, boss, no problem.”
On his way back to the tree grove Jason stopped up short. For the first time since he and Danielle had shared their stories the night before, Jason thought of the object he wore around his neck, and chose that moment to cup it in his hand. As he’d expected, the heat came almost instantly. It took every ounce of strength inside him to hold onto the object as images rushed at him with the swiftness of tracer bullets, dizzying in their intensity.
From out of the complex myriad of images swam the face of the child, but instead of the beautiful, angelic smile he’d seen before, there was now a worried urgency in her presence that disturbed Jason.
I’m doing the best I can, he said, although he did not speak the words aloud.
I understand, replied the child. I sense your frustration. We need to find a better way.
What should I do?
I can help.
How?
You will understand when the images end. It is dangerous but the only way. Hold the object tightly and follow the path.
Jason obeyed the voice, squeezing the object so tightly in his closed fist that it hurt. A minute passed, and then two, the longest minutes of his life, while a stream of something that could only be knowledge pelted him like intellectual shrapnel. When it was over, exhaustion nearly drove him to his knees. He released the object shakily, feeling the burned brand in the palm of his hand, but knowing now what he was supposed to do. He’d seen the future. The child had somehow opened up a reservoir in his mind, and using the object she had somehow filled it with a truth that was both wonderful and terrible.
He needed to get moving. He had things to do before they left this place forever, and time was short.
I can help you, she had said, and he knew that she would.
He went back to where Charlee lay on her cot mortally wounded. Danielle gave him a grim look. “She’s not good. The wounds are infecting and she’s developing a fever. I think the bullet punctured her liver.”
“I know how to fix her,” Jason said.
Danielle’s eyes narrowed skeptically. “What? How?”
Jason gave the area a quick scan. “Keep an eye out for Slim.”
“Why?”
“He can’t see this.”
Danielle could not take her astonished eyes off him. “What on earth are you talking about? What can’t he see?”
“What I’m about to do.”
“Jason, I don’t like the look on your face. You’re frightening me. What are you about to do?”
“I told you, I’m going to fix her. And then we’re going to Maine.”
Danielle continued to stare at him. “How will we do all that?”
Jason did not answer her question. No way could he tell Danielle the rest of what he had seen, the rest of what he knew. Maybe later, when he’d had the chance to try and fix the future. But not now. Now he would do what he had to do and call it a day. It was their only hope of survival. It was Charlee’s only hope of survival.
“Tell me what’s going on, Jason!”
“I’m going to try and fix the future,” Jason said. With a heavy heart he picked the object up off his chest and pulled the chain around his neck. “I need to see yours,” he told Danielle, his voice edgy with resolve.
“What’s going on, Jason? If you can fix Charlee then why do you look so sad and angry at the same time?”
“Please, Danielle, don’t ask any more questions. Just give me the object.”
Reluctantly Danielle reached in her pocket and extracted the soft piece of chamois cloth, unfolded it and cupped the object in her hand. “Am I supposed to be feeling something?” she said. “Am I supposed to be seeing something? Because I’m not. For the past two days whenever I touched this thing I saw wonderful, and yes, horrible things. Now I don’t see anything.”
“Those wonderful and horrible things are both part of your future, and mine, Danielle. But only if we survive. And that’s not guaranteed. Separately each of these objects has a limited amount of power, but you already know that. They show you things about
yourself, about the past and the future. But the future is not static, it’s malleable. Put two of these objects together and they have a thousand times more power than just one. But you already know that too. You saw what happened last night. You saw how amazing it was. When you add the third object into the equation you have the potential of an almost limitless amount of power. But there is a fourth object, one born of this Earth, that when added to the other three, has the power to save or destroy the human race, the Earth, perhaps life everywhere. Do you understand?”
“No, I don’t understand. How do you know these things? What’s happened to you, Jason?”
“The little girl spoke to me a moment ago, and she gave me instructions. But she didn’t just speak. She did something to me. It was like she downloaded all the knowledge in the universe directly into my brain. If I don’t do what I’m supposed to do we will most certainly die out here and with us the dream will die.”
“What dream, Jason?”
“You already know the answer to that, Danielle. You’ve dreamed the dream and so have I. It’s why we’re both here.”
Danielle continued to hold the object in her palm, squeezing it so hard her fingernails cut into her flesh. “But why can’t I see what you’re seeing?”
“Because it’s not supposed to be that way. At least not now. This is something only I can do.”
Almost reluctantly Danielle handed the object to Jason. Now Jason held them both, one in each hand. When he brought them together, the Blue Light was born, spinning, spiraling, bending and shifting, like a sapphire blue genie from some cosmic Aladdin’s lamp.
“I need you to strip the bandages from Charlee’s wounds,” Jason said. “Hurry, there’s not much time.”
This time Danielle did not argue. She bent over the girl, pulled back the sheet covering her and carefully removed the bandages. As she did so, black blood began pumping from both the exit and entrance wounds. Charlee moaned in her sleep. Jason brought the spiraling vortex down close to Charlee’s wounds. As he did so, the blue light leaped from the objects and entered Charlee’s body through the wound holes in her side. Charlee convulsed, once, twice, three times before Danielle could get down and hold her. Sweat poured from Charlee’s face as her head rolled back and forth in delirium.
Song of Ariel: A Blue Light Thriller (Book 2) (Blue Light Series) Page 18
