“Don’t worry about it,” she waved a hand, relenting to the escort.
Once inside the lobby, her senses heightened. The lobby of the refurbished Georgetown building had been technology centric, with televisions dedicated to 24-hour news, lining the lobby. The owners of the building had been clearly playing on the digital craving, and constant needing-to-know clientele of Georgetown and the Pentagon. Being a consumer of information all day in her job, Perez would usually walk past the screens and ignore the talking heads; but not today. Today, everything was black; like black voids where pictures used to hang. The sight stopped her in her tracks, and she ran her finger along the lifeless rectangles of defunct LEDs, before turning towards the elevators.
“Those will be out of service,” the soldier informed, already heading towards the buildings internal stairs.
“Right,” she said, changing course, now blindly following the soldier.
Forty seconds later, they emerged on the third-floor landing.
“It’s this one on the left, 303,” she said, fumbling with her keys to unlock the door to the flat. She had not actually held the keys in her hands for more days than she could count, and for some reason they felt alien to her.
The soldier walked past the door to look further down the hall, but there were only two other closed apartment doors. He came back to her at the door; she was still fumbling with the keys. “This place looks pretty quiet.”
“Most everyone works at the Pentagon, so,” she said, still managing the keys.
“Ah, is there a problem, ma…I mean, ah, do you need some help?”
She dropped the keys. “Damn it. No, I’m just really tired,” she said, picking up the keys and finally unlocking the door.
“Roger, that,” he agreed.
She pushed the door open to stale air and a darken flat.
The soldier stepped in front of her. “Can I…” they brushed past each other face to face. “Um, I need to go first, orders, you know,” he said, blushing and then turning to enter the apartment first.
Perez was almost too tired to get the subtle hints of flirting, but she wasn’t that tired.
The soldier swept the apartment, checking each room. “All clear,” he announced proudly to the Airman as he returned to the kitchen.
She nodded, putting her purse and backpack down on the kitchen island. “Thank you…” she looked at his rank and name for the first time. “Sergent Fields,” she added with a smile.
“Ah, please call me Cotton,” he added with a broad smile. “Everyone just knows me as Cotton.”
Perez was tired, but not tired enough to make the connection. “You mean, your parents named you…”
“Cotton,” he said, topped with a smile that was infectious. “It was some hippie thing they were tripping on, I’m sure.”
“So, your name is actually Cotton Fields?” she asked, putting her hand over her mouth to cover her smile.
Fields nodded; he had a lifetime of experiencing this type of reaction. “Yes, ma’am, but it has never sounded quite the same being said by anyone else,” he ventured. “I’ll be back in five hours to give you ride back to the Pentagon,” he said, nodded, and slipped out the door, closing is gently behind him.
Perez giggled like a schoolgirl, rolled her eyes and strode to the door, unsure of her intention. She wasn’t going to let that kind of flirting go un-answered. She wasn’t seeing anyone, the apartment was empty, and it was the apocalypse, after all. She yanked the door open with a big smile; two men were holding Cotton, and one had a gun to his head.
The man with the gun to Cotton’s head shoved him from the back and entered the apartment. Perez backed away, her mind not believing what she was seeing. Why him? Why me?
Hanging from the belt of one of the attackers was a small two-way radio, and it cracked to life. The man holding Cotton’s arm briefly released his grip to silence the radio. That was all Cotton needed to spring into action. He swung his elbow back and into the upper gut of his captor; causing him to fall back towards the door. That was all the room Cotton needed to swing his rifle around off of his shoulder. At the same time, he tried to swing his shouldered rifle around from the door as they entered.
The man recovered and brought a pistol out of his waistband, ready to shoot, but Cotton was quicker. He fired a burst from his M-16, spraying blood along the white door. Just as his finger released, he was already swinging around to locate the second guy.
“DON’T DO IT,” the man yelled, his voice thick with an accent.
Cotton froze, and held his breath to steady his arm. He drew his sights tighter on the man holding a 9mm to Perez’s head.
“Soldier boy, don’t do it,” the man repeated. The accent was throwing Cotton; it was something that he didn’t recognize.
Cotton advanced a foot, and the armed man retreated a foot. There was another single shot from outside at street level, and then a radio crackled with a voice…but the voice wasn’t speaking English.
Perez arched her back at hearing the foreign language.
Cotton looked at Perez and she at him, they tried to exchange information about the situation. Perez wanted him to know that that there was someone else at street level, and they had just murdered a police officer.
Cotton wanted her to know that no matter what; he would do his best to protect her.
The man holding the gun to Perez’s head didn’t acknowledge the radio call. “Okay, we move,” he ordered. He started moving her towards the door, with Cotton still standing his ground in the entry.
Cotton gripped the M-16 tighter, drawing his aim firmer on the man’s head. “You aren’t going anywhere with her,” he demanded, his voice low and guttural. He felt the back of his boot hit the soft body of the dead man on the floor.
The man holding the pistol on Perez smiled, looking at the ceiling before taunting the soldier. “You came alone. Tactical error. I know your military is stretched, but you should know better. Also, the policeman that heard your gunshots is now dead. You might have well killed him yourself. Finally, you made a mess,” he said, looking at the dead man on the ground. “So, here we are, my mission is in jeopardy and you want to play John Wayne,” he said, his accent thick.
“What’s that supposed to mean, your mission?” Cotton tried to blink the sweat from rolling into his eyes.
Perez tied squirming, but the grip around her neck was vice-like.
“You, Nina, do not need to fight, I will not hurt you,” he said, pulling his arm just a little tighter.
“But, you,” he said, pivoting the pistol away from the head of Perez and towards Cotton. “You are expendable.”
CHAPTER 19
Tasha heard the galloping sounds of the horses before they arrived. She slid the pistol off of the picnic table and pulled it up, ready to fire. She was exhausted, and the pistol felt heavy in her hands.
Joshua rounded the back of the church first, with Adam a few seconds behind him. “Tasha, it’s me,” he held up his hand and spun the horse to a stop a few feet away from the carnage. His eyes moved from the girl to the blood covering the ground and back to the girl. “It’s Joshua, we’re here to help.”
Tasha processed that for an extra second, and let her arms fall, the gun flapping off her leg. Joshua dismounted quickly and reached out for her; she let herself fall into his arms. She was so thankful that someone else was here to share the burden.
“Father Jeff’s dead, and I don't know about David,” she said, turning away from him so that he could see for himself. She tucked the gun into the small of her back
Adam dismounted from his horse, and was obviously still in some pain from him own gunshot wound. “I’m Adam, his brother,” he said, but his eyes weren’t looking at the black girl with blood all over her shirt. His eyes were fixed on the body on the ground; it was covered with one of the church’s white tablecloths. There was a red bloodstain near what looked like the chest of the man.
“You, you were hurt when I was at your house. I�
��m sorry about your dad,” she said, trying to conjure up the emotion, but she was emotionally spent.
“Yeah,” he said, his affect flat. He was painfully aware that the same helicopters had just killed his father. He looked past her at what his brother was doing; he needed to stay focused on something other than riding back to bury his father.
Joshua lifted the tablecloth and looked at the priest’s face. The dead man’s eyes were closed, and his colorless face held a look of pain. Joshua gently placed the cloth back down over the dead man and turned towards David.
“I did the best I could,” Tasha said, looking at the half empty IV bag. David’s eyes were closed and his breath was shallow.
Joshua looked at everything, using his skills absorbed over the years as the son of an ER nurse. “You did this?” It came out wrong, and he wished he had said it another way.
“Yeah, why?”
“I mean, you did a really good job.”
“Oh.”
“Do you have another IV bag?” Joshua asked.
“Yeah, only one. Does he need more?”
“I don’t know,” Joshua answered, lifting up David’s eyelids to look at his pupils. “Probably.” David’s eyes were dilated and didn’t have much response to the light. “Yeah, I’d go ahead and give it to him once this one’s empty.” He looked over at Adam. “Hey, go get two more of these tablecloths from the kitchen, and the flag poles that are next to the altar,” he ordered his brother.
Adam went into the church searching for the items.
“What are you going to do?”
“Ahh, we’re going to build a stretcher and move him into the church,” Joshua said, aware of a growing sense of panic in her voice.
“You mean you can’t take us with you?”
Joshua breathed in deeply before answering. “No, we have to warn a few more people before we bury…well we have to leave. Mr. Burrows thinks they will send more helicopters.”
“Oh, God!” Tasha breathed. “No! Not more of those.”
“Hey, hey. You’ll be okay, we’re going to set you up, and let some of the neighbors know you’re here. They will get over here as soon as possible to help. Everybody knew Father Jeff.”
“But?”
“How’s your food supply and water?” He heard his own voice and mentally felt like crap for having to be so compartmentalized with the girl. She’d have to figure this out; he had to bury his father.
“My food? I…I,” she looked over her shoulder as if she could somehow see into the kitchen of the church. “I don’t know, we have stuff in the Bronco, we were going to leave,” she heard herself say, in a confused way. “So, I think it’s okay for now, I think,” she didn’t know what to think. She thought that Joshua was here to help. “You’re just going to leave me here? Leave us here? Grace said that they were coming back, and I…”
He cut her off. “If we try to take David with us, he will die. He needs at least a day or two just to stabilize.” Adam came back with the items ready to build the stretcher. “Once we get a camp started, and find some help, we can come back and get you both. Like I said, we’ll let a few of the neighbors know about you. I just need you to hold on until then. Okay?” He admitted he sounded like an ass, but he had no other alternative.
Tasha didn’t say anything as she watched the boys construct the makeshift field stretcher. Her mind swirled with disbelief, doubt and fear. A very large voice in her head screamed at her to run, but her feet were cemented to the spot. One of the horses made a noise, and that startled her back to the current reality.
“Okay, Tasha,” Joshua said standing at one end of the picnic table. “Tasha, hey! Tasha, we need your help,” he said, his voice stern but not commanding.
“Yeah, sorry, okay what can I do?” She pushed the screaming voice as far into a dark corner as she could.
“Just help us roll him onto the stretcher and then you carry the IV bag so we don't pull it out of him. We’ll do the rest. Got it?”
She nodded.
“Okay,” Joshua assumed command. “On three. One, two, three!”
They rolled David onto the stretcher and then the boys lifted him. David grunted and his eyes opened for a second or two, but for the most part he was unaware of what was going on. Two minutes later they stretched him across the couch in Father Jeff’s office. Joshua looked at his watch; they were pulling out of the farm in thirty-five minutes.
“Do you have any antibiotics?” Adam asked.
“I uhh, yeah, I remember David grabbing some before we escaped out of Birmingham. Does he need some?”
“Yeah, as soon as he can swallow it,” Joshua followed up. He looked at the girl, there was a sense of panic in her eyes, or perhaps it was fear. “Adam, go see if there’s a road map in the patrol car?”
“There’s one in the visor of the Bronco,” Tasha added.
“Be right back,” Adam said, off to retrieve the map.
“Listen, Tasha, we have to go, so let me be quick and make sure you’ll be okay.”
“I’d be okay if you take me with you,” she said, her voice sounding small and timid.
“David will die if you leave, or if we try to take him with us. Do you understand that?”
She nodded.
“If for some reason we can’t get back to get you.”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“Just,” Joshua held his hand up to stop her. “This is just in case we can’t get back. You’ll have to come to us. Got it?”
She nodded again, but in no way did that mean that she ‘got it.’
Joshua looked at his watch; he was burning time. “Look, when he gets back with the map, I’ll show you where we’re going. But, first, do you know how to use that pistol you were point at us?”
Without thinking she reached around and felt the hard object tucked into the small of her back. She nodded that she did.
“Is that all you got?”
She shook her head in the negative. “David packed several rifles and other things that I don’t even know about in the back of the Bronco.”
Joshua raised an eyebrow at that bit of information. “Do you know how to use any of them?”
“Yeah, but they’re kind of scary.”
Adam came back in with the map. “Grace just radioed, they’re going to start in about twenty minutes. And they have like a crapload of weapons in that Bronco,” Adam said, tossing his thumb back over his shoulder.
Joshua nodded, accepting the information about his father’s burial service.
“That makes me even more of a target, doesn’t it?” she asked.
Joshua thought about it for a second before answering. “Yeah, a little, but just don't advertise the fact, and you should be fine. Okay,” he spread the map out on a coffee table and took a highlighter from off of the desk. “We’re here.” He put a dot on approximately where the church was located. “Grace’s father said we’re going here,” he put another dot on the Anniston Army Depot.
“Why there?”
“Ian thinks there should be reinforcements there. But, we’re going to try and make it to Talladega tonight to camp.”
“Talladega? That’s the race track, right?”
“Yeah, it’s not that far, but we don't know what kind of resistance we’re going to run into, so.”
“How long will you be there?” she asked, leaning over the map. She wasn’t really a map person.
“Hopefully a day, maybe two, it all depends. Look, we need to get going if we’re going to make another stop. We’ll stay in touch on the radio. Let us know if David’s condition worsens.”
“Why, what could you do?” Her voice was condescending.
Joshua skipped over the comment and the tone, this wasn’t the time or the place, and he knew he was leaving the girl in a nightmare of a situation. “Are you going to be okay?” Joshua’s eyes drifted over to David, who was beginning to wake up.
Tasha followed his eyes over to the man, and shook her head. “No, but what e
lse can I do. Just so I know, if I get him to you in Anniston or Talladega, your mom can help him, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, we can. But hopefully, we can get back to you before you have to do that.” He started walking out, and Tasha and Adam followed him to the horses.
“Give him the other bag of fluid,” Adam suggested as he untied the horses.
Tasha watched the brothers mount the horses; she was mindful of how close she was to the beasts.
“I lost my dad, too,” her voice was steady; the fear was draining from her veins. She needed to find strength to do what she had to do. She had no idea why she was telling them about her loss. “It happened on the first day, and I’ve just had to find a way to live each day. I just wanted to say I’m sorry, that you have to do that, too. And, if I can find a way to do this, then I know you two can.”
“Thank you,” Joshua finally said, his voice breaking at the thoughts of his own loss. “We’ll radio you from Talladega to check in. Remember, if you have to drive to get to us, just follow the route on the map that I highlighted. Good luck and we'll see you in a few days!” he said. The two brothers spurred their horses to ride back to their farm.
Tasha watched them ride out of sight before voicing a fear that had only now surfaced.
“But, I don’t know how to drive.”
CHAPTER 20
Emma watched Clark from the back seat; he would scan everything visible outside of the windows, reference the map and then look down at his watch. He did the same motion four or five times before she looked out of the windows herself. What she was looking for was what he was looking for; the kids.
Jack and Lucy had been her responsibility from the moment they stepped off of the airplane in Atlanta. She knew she would never replace their parents, and she didn't try. She did her best to act as a guardian, but even that was tough with middle age teens. Don’t know if you’re cut out for this adult with children thing? She questioned herself.
Again, Emma watched Clark go through his routine with looking outside, then map, then the watch. She knew he was trying to keep the negative thoughts and doubts at bay; just as she was. Every second that passed, marked a second in time that moved them further and further away from finding the children.
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