Tasha took a deep breath and removed the blood-soaked shirt from the wound. The bleeding had slowed, but had not stopped.
“This is going to hurt, and I’m sorry,” she told David, as she poured hydrogen peroxide all along the open wound. Within seconds a river of white and red bubbles erupted with a sizzle all along the wound.
David let out a massive guttural yell, which echoed off of the broken church. He then fell limp, passing out from the pain.
“I’m so sorry,” Tasha told him as she continued to pour. She had one last idea, but knew she needed to get the bleeding under control for anything else to work.
Tasha let the bubbles flow for a few more seconds and then used the spray can of blood clotting solution that she had found in the Bronco’s first aid kit. The bottle clearly said it was for topical wounds only, but she was desperate. She sprayed half of the contents of the can on the wound and started packing the area with the sanitary pads. The first few pads instantly became blood soaked, so she tossed them aside to put fresh ones in their place. Once she had most of them packed five deep, she started wrapping his leg as tightly as she dared with medical cohesive bandages.
Finally, done with her first experience as a field doctor, she rolled David to his back and propped his head and legs up with loose clothing from the Bronco. She looked at his lips, they were still very blue, and his skin was almost without color. It was time for her last-ditch idea to save his life. She looked at Jeff’s parked patrol car.
The white and brown Sheriff’s patrol car had not moved since she and David had arrived on scene a few days earlier. It was a victim of the EMP, a sign of civilization that had ground to a halt; it would never move under its own power again. She tried opening the door, but it was locked.
“Why the hell would a man lock the door of a car that doesn't work?!” she yelled. With pure adrenaline as a catalyst, she took off for Jeff’s office in the church.
Thirty seconds later she skidded to a halt in the priest’s office and started her frantic search. She lifted a folder with the title, ‘Sermons’ on the tab, and found what she was looking for. She thought to herself for the briefest of instances that if she lived through this that she would come back and read the last sermon in the folder, but that was something she couldn’t worry about now. She grabbed the keys and ran back out to the patrol car. She first tried the key fob, clicking it a half dozen time before she realized that the fob was dead, just like the car, and just like the car’s former driver.
“Stupid!” she said, and looked briefly over at David while she fumbled for the key to unlock the door. He looked like a corpse. She found the key and opened the door. Beside the seat was the manual trunk release, and she practically yanked the plastic latch out of the mount. She was rewarded with the hollow, ‘thump’ of the trunk opening.
In the trunk was what Jeff had referred to earlier, the red and white cooler. A sticker with the emblem of the Sheriff’s Office adorned the top, and a piece of tamper tape stuck across the seal. She ripped the tamper tape off and opened the cooler. Inside, she found what she was looking for, two bags of saline.
Tasha looked over the picture directions on the side of the saline bag twice just to make sure she understood what to do. “Mr. David.” Her hands shook as she held the needle in one hand and his arm in the other. “This might hurt, but I don't think it could hurt any more than it already does.”
David never felt the prick in his arm. His breathing was short and there was a hollow look to his cheeks. She hung the bag from the craggy bend in a branch that overhung the table and let herself sit hard on the bench. While taking a deep breath, she noticed for the first time that she had her own cuts, and gashes on her arms and legs; but she was too tired to do anything about it. She put her head in her hands and her hands on the table. She shook with fear, her plummeting adrenalin, and the dreaded sense of loneliness.
“You can’t leave me too, Mr. David,” Tasha spoke the words into her hands. There was no answer so she looked up, he was still breathing, and the fluid was going into his body. She wiped a tear away from her eye and leaned close to his head. “Jack and Lucy are almost here.”
David twitched at the phrase, but gave no other reaction.
“Mr. David, Jack and Lucy are almost here,” she repeated. She said it four or five more times and almost missed the sound of a muffled voice. She stopped talking and tilted her head so that she could isolate the voice. There it was again.
“Tasha, it’s Grace. Over. Tasha, are you there? It’s Grace, over.”
Tasha looked at the Bronco, it was the radio. It was a voice she knew.
“Tasha, are you there? It’s Grace, over.”
Tasha shuffled to the open window of the Bronco and reached in for the radio that she had received at the Tiller farm.
“Grace,” she said, thinking her voice sounded worn. “It’s Tasha, I need your help. Over.”
“Tasha, it’s Grace, I need yours. Over.”
CHAPTER 16
Joseph motored over the ford in the river with all of the daintiness of a museum curator handling a clutch of prehistoric Pterodactyls eggs.
“If you don’t go, we’ll get stuck!” Penny warned.
“I have never,” Joseph swung the wheel wildly back and forth, the current pushing relentlessly at the two-ton vehicle. “Done this sort of…thing before. Oh!”
“It’ll float if it has to,” a small voice came across the speakers from the back. Lucy said it again, really forcing herself to speak more than anything else. “Guys, this thing can’t sink, it’ll float if we have to.”
Joseph looked back in his rearview mirror. Weed said something in Chinese, and Joseph course corrected the vehicle.
“How does she know about this vehicle?” Joseph asked, not daring to take his eyes off of the water crossing again.
Penny waited for him to finally hit the banks on the other side of the river before answering his question. “She is really good with electronics and stuff,” Penny said, giving a vague answer. She looked back and caught Lucy’s eye and winked at her. The corner of Lucy’s mouth curled up for the briefest of seconds.
“Do you think she can repair the radio?” Joseph asked, his complexion pale from the river crossing.
Lucy allowed herself a larger smile as the question came across the speakers in the rear. She clearly knew that none of the onboard systems had been activated; the radio only appeared broken. During the escape from Atlanta she had been responsible for manning the vehicle’s onboard systems, which had given her a deep insight into the operation of everything onboard. With this knowledge as a base, Lucy knew why the radio wasn’t working, and she wasn’t about to help them turn it on. She crossed her arms as if she hadn’t heard the question.
“I don’t know,” Penny offered, trying to think of a way to use this to their advantage.
“Well she can’t do anything from back here,” Jack said, ready to take advantage of any opportunity.
Joseph opened his mouth to say something just as a warning light started blinking on the dash. “What does that mean?” he asked, looking first at Penny, and then turning to look at Lucy. “What does it mean?” There was a tinge of panic in his voice.
Lucy leaned forward and looked through the bulletproof glass to see the warning light on the dash. She leaned back in her seat, knowing exactly what the warning meant, and had no intention to tell him.
Joseph looked in the rearview mirror at the girl; he was incredulous to the fact that she was not helping. Weed pulled his pistol and put it to her head.
Both Jack and Lucy, blessed with the insight of being brother and sister, seemed to know that the other wasn’t going to react. Both sat quietly. Even Penny sensed that this was a game of cat and mouse, or rather, chess. Lucy had just made a move that, if played properly, could eventually lead to check.
Weed held the gun, his eyes moved from Lucy to Jack to Joseph. He was confused by their lack of reaction, and looked for direction.
; Joseph said something, and Number Two moved the gun away from Lucy’s head and placed it harshly against Jack’s head.
“Even if you shoot him, I will not tell you,” Lucy said, hoping the bluff would hold. Her insides screamed for her to tell them so that they would take the gun away from her brother. Her voice was ice cold.
Penny looked over at the warning light; it blinked with more intensity with each passing minute. “If you want her to tell you what the warning means…”
“And how to repair it!” Joseph cut her off, knowing this was going to be a quick negotiation and he needed to get his position in as soon as possible. They were losing their threat position.
Penny looked at Lucy and nodded slightly. “Okay, not only will she tell you what the warning light means, but she will tell you how to make the repairs.”
“Fine, then what do you want?” Joseph said, as the Humvee seemed to be playing along. The engine missed a beat and the engine seemed to cough, causing the passengers to lunge forward.
“We need to stop, go to the bathroom and get some water, if you want our continued help,” Lucy demanded from the back.
“Fine, fine,” Joseph relented. “Just tell me what is wrong.”
“It’s a warning light to tell you that the engine is about to stall unless you…”
“We can get some there,” Penny cut Lucy off, and pointed across a cow pasture towards a farmhouse.
Lucy looked out the window, she didn’t know exactly what Penny saw, but she trusted the other girl’s lead. “Yes, I see it, now. Go down this dirt road,” Lucy ordered through the bulletproof glass. “Pull up next to that farmhouse.”
“Actually, get as close to that white tank as possible,” Penny refined the order.
“Yes,” Joseph said, nodding. “Yes, the white tank.”
A minute later, Joseph nursed the coughing Humvee as close to the white cylindrical tank as possible. Before letting them out he had one threat. “Do not run, or I will kill you all.” He unlocked the doors, releasing the hostages.
The farm was a medium size cattle ranch with at least a few hundred head of cattle in the front pastures. The white farmhouse looked old, but well taken care of; a wooden porch wrapped all the way around the structure. Within seconds of Penny stepping out of the passenger side of the Humvee, the front door to the house opened and a man stepped out with the business end of a rifle pointed at the group.
“Don’t raise your weapons at him or he'll shoot,” Penny warned Joseph. Joseph processed the warning and immediately ordered Weed to keep his rifle down. He had no intention of dying at a cow farm.
“What do you want? Are you military or something?” the man asked from the front porch.
Lucy stepped around the back of the vehicle; her hands were open and raised slightly. “We just need some diesel fuel, and we’ll be out of here.” She walked a few feet towards the porch, she could sense freedom, and she tried to say as much with her eyes.
Weed sensed what she might do and put a hand on her shoulder to stop her in her tracks. Freedom would have to stay out of reach.
“That’s all that I have, and I can’t get anymore,” the man responded. He had yet to lower his rifle.
“I need to go talk to him, or we'll never get any,” Penny foretold, her voice quiet. She spoke only to Joseph.
“I can kill him and then there is no need to talk,” Joseph responded, his tone finding some assurance now that he knew the vehicle only required fuel. It never occurred to him that the girl was manipulating him.
“You don't know what will happen to you if you kill him. Besides,” Penny looked at Joseph to enforce what she was going to say. “There’s at least one other person pointing a rifle at us.” Her father had taught her almost everything he knew about being a sniper.
At that bit of information, Joseph studied her face for any signs of subversion, but there were none.
“Look to the top of the house,” she offered. “I need to go talk to him, if you want the fuel.”
“You will run.” He looked up at the second story of the house and could see the barrel of a rifle resting on the windowsill. The girl was right.
“You know I won’t.”
Joseph seemed to think about it for a second, he was weighing his risk. “Go, but I will…”
“I know, shoot the girl,” she said, already walking towards the porch.
CHAPTER 17
“They killed Bob,” Grace said, her voice level.
Tasha wondered how many more blows she could take. She was at the end of her nerves after dealing with the helicopters, Jeff having his chest split open and now, watching David hang by a thread.
“The farmhouse, most of the barn, and there’s a fire in the pasture.”
Tasha looked over her shoulder, past the church. In the distance, over the mountain, a steady trail of black smoke floated above the ridge.
“The helicopters?”
“We took them out.”
“Your parents, are your parents okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I thought I lost them, but, yeah, they’re okay.”
“And Josh, his brother and Mary? Is Mary okay?” There was a pause. “Grace? Are you still there? Over.” Tasha felt that ping of being left alone again.
“Yeah, sorry. It's just that my dad wants us to leave," she said, her voice taking on a sense of urgency. "But, yeah, we’re all okay, I guess? What about you, you said you needed help? What happened? Over." The urgency faded as she concentrated on the other girl's needs.
Tasha walked back over to the picnic table and put her hand gently on David’s chest; he was still breathing. “The helicopters, before they found you, they, they...” She released the microphone.
“Tasha? What about the helicopters? Tasha are you there? Over."
Tasha pressed the button again. “Yeah, I am, but it's the helicopters, they came here first. They shot up the church. David is really hurt badly, and Father Jeff is…” she released the button for a second and then got the nerve to vocalize the situation. “Father Jeff is dead.”
"Oh, God! Oh, Tasha, I'm so sorry," Grace said releasing her microphone button without the traditional 'over.' She looked over at the tree where her father had already started digging a grave for Bob.
“We’ll be back in forty-five minutes.” The statement caught Grace by surprise, considering the news she had just received. Joshua was standing in front of her with two horses at the end of leads.
"What?" She asked, looking at him like he had just arrived from Mars. This was officially the shittiest two weeks of her life.
“Adam and I are going to warn the neighbors about the Chinese coming back. Your dad said we’re leaving in an hour, so we need to takeoff now!” His voice seemed to be like he was walking the edge of a blade. He was struggling with the emotion of losing his father and now having to flee his home. She had no idea how he was keeping it all together.
Grace nodded, everything catching back up to her. They were bugging out in the hopes of finding more people that could help fight. “I need you to do something important for me,” she said.
He almost snapped at her for even suggesting something else for him to do at a time like this. But, her look was one of intent, mixed with the sadness of a plea.
“Okay, sure,” he answered.
“I’ve got things here. I’ll make sure your mom is taken care of and that we get everything packed. I need you and Adam to help someone.”
Joshua simply nodded that he understood. He also knew that they were running out of time.
Grace keyed her radio just as Adam came over to mount one of the two horses. He was still moving gingerly. “Tasha, this is Grace, Joshua and his brother Adam will be there in a few minutes. Okay? Over."
"Okay. What about you? Can you come, too? Over," Tasha asked, her voice fragile and spent. She needed someone to hold on to.
"What's that about?" Adam asked as he swung his leg over the saddle.
"It's Tasha, Father Jeff was killed by th
ose helicopters before they found us. She needs our help! I need you to help her in any way you can.” She said, looking as directly at Joshua as she could. For a second, he looked back at her with the same directness. She could see the sadness that filled him, and she thought she could see something else. The thought of him not coming back skipped through her mind, and she dismissed it just as quickly.
“Okay,” Joshua said, mounting his horse.
“Tell her where we’re going, and maybe she can catch up. The man she was traveling with is hurt; I don't know how badly. Do what you can, and see if they can catch up,” she reinforced. She put her hand on his horse and looked up at him. “Be careful.”
“Okay, I will. I got it,” he said, kicking his heels into the horse.
CHAPTER 18
Perez shared an apartment with two other Air Force women about a mile from the Pentagon. From what she knew, she was the only one to have made it back to the apartment since the attack.
The Pentagon provided her and two other soldiers a ride home in an armed Humvee. After dropping the others off at their apartments, the Humvee, driver, and an armed soldier stopped in front of her building. From watching the last two being dropped off, Perez knew that she was about to be escorted all the way to her apartment by the soldier/driver.
“You know, it looks okay from here,” she said, casting a reassuring look to her escort as he turned off the vehicle.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, but he was not persuaded. “We’ve had a lot of problems since the President declared Martial Law. Besides, it’s an order.”
“Please don’t call me ma’am,” she corrected, the exhaustion thick on her voice. She had no intention of being a bitch, but she couldn’t help it since she could hardly think straight.
“Right, sorry,” the soldier responded, oblivious to the tone in her voice. He was more concerned with sweeping the area and doing his job.
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