Bleeding (Oil Apocalypse Book 2)

by Lou Cadle

  She hoped the little girl had survived the blast. She was lying still, facedown on the road.

  Security before compassion. A car started and the engine revved, then it took off up the road. She heard Curt firing at it as it passed his position.

  Excellent. You both keep going that way.

  She moved to one who’d never moved after the grenade exploded, fearing he’d been playing possum all this while. He was face down, his rifle next to him. She kicked it away and put her own rifle’s barrel to his neck and pulled the trigger.

  Click.

  This had been her last magazine, so she was totally out of ammo. She snatched his rifle up, pointed it at him, and felt around with her thumb for its safety. It wasn’t exactly like her rifle, and she couldn’t get the safety without looking. She raised the rifle and checked. The safety was already off. She put the tip of the barrel against his neck and fired.

  He didn’t even flinch. Okay, call that one dead. The one who’d had the grenade launcher didn’t have much of a face left, and what there was had been scorched by his proximity to the blast. The man she’d shot as he rose was dead. The ones someone else had killed earlier, all dead, and already hosting a number of flies. One had lived a while beyond being shot, for there was a bloody line where he’d crawled along the road before being able to go no farther. He lay on a flat piece of pavement, in a pool of congealing blood.

  Last of all, she checked the one who’d been leading, the one who’d had the little girl in his arms. Shot in the head, he was gone. Good.

  She whistled the all clear to Curt, to Joan. They’d repelled the attack. Then she realized she could speak aloud. “We’re all clear,” she shouted. She turned around and counted bodies. “Nine dead out here.”

  She looked back at the man she thought of as the leader of the invasion. He hadn’t shot at her—he’d been shouting directions at his men and holding tight to the girl—but that had been worse than if he’d been firing steadily in her direction. It didn’t matter to her if he’d been hungry, or angry about her shooting his friends back in town, or what had been in his mind. What mattered was how he’d behaved, and he’d behaved despicably.

  She stood over him, hating him, though he was well beyond being able to appreciate feeling loved or hated. With her boot, she rolled him over to see what evil looked like. Like anyone. There were no horns. Without thinking about it, she put her foot on his chest, standing for a second like that, applying light pressure, proving her control over him. It felt good. She felt like a goddess, the goddess of vengeance, of justice, and she had to still a powerful urge to hoot in victory.

  When she turned her head to look at the little girl, her triumphant feeling left her. She hurried over, knelt by the girl, and checked her pulse at the neck. Her neck was damp with sweat, and Sierra could smell her. It was a little kid kind of sweat, unlike any other smell. And there was a pulse, heart pumping blood just as it should.

  But the kid wasn’t moving. Sierra leaned down and said, “Kid? Little girl? Honey? You can wake up now. The bad men are all gone.”

  But the kid wasn’t moving or opening her eyes. Sierra rolled her carefully and checked her over. No blood. No bones obviously broken.

  Okay, she and her neighbors were safe. Now there was the girl to consider. Hurt? In shock? She didn’t know, but the first thing to do was to get her to Kelly to check her over medically. Second thing was to find and check over the other kids. She slung her rifle over her shoulder, squatted down, and worked her hands over the girl’s limp form.

  “She dead?” Curt’s voice surprised her.

  “You sure do walk quietly,” Sierra said, feeling relief to see him whole and healthy. “I’m glad you’re okay. And no, she’s not dead. But she’s not conscious.”

  Curt reached down and pushed up one of the girl’s eyelids. He must have seen something she didn’t, because he shook his head. “She’s awake. Choosing not to answer.”

  “Then I guess I can pick her up safely? I want to get her to Kelly.”

  “Want me to?”

  “Maybe not. Men might scare her right now.”

  “Understood. They scare me too.”

  “I thought it was women who scared you.”

  “Vice versa. I scare them. Right now, everybody scares me, gender notwithstanding.”

  “Not me though. I mean, I don’t scare you.”

  “At moments you do. You really get into this.”

  She knew what he meant. “Yeah. In a way. I mean, in the heat of the moment, I’m....” She tried to put words to it. “Not someone else. That’s not it.” It wouldn’t be right to deny responsibility for the person she became in battle. That was her too. She shrugged, giving up on the idea of explaining. “But now I’m me again. Normal me. Anyway, I certainly won’t be shooting at you.”

  “Good to hear,” he said. “I’m going to stay here while you take the kid in. Would you check on everyone? We need to figure out what to do with all these cars, who is free, and—hell, where did all those kids get to?”

  Sierra had not forgotten there’d been a dozen children here, not just this one. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll set Joan or Rudy to rounding them up.”

  “Joan. She’s a mom. She’ll be good with kids. I’d probably scare them. I’ll stand guard.”

  “See you soon. I guess we’ll be meeting out here in a little while. Blow the whistle if those other two guys come back.” She scooped up the girl and said to Curt, “Push the rifle strap back up my arm, would you?”

  He did. “There you go.”

  “Thanks. See you soon.” She walked around the log—they had to get that back in place too, and soon—and up their road. “I need you, Joan,” she called.

  “It’s over?” Joan called, as she walked closer. “Is she okay?”

  “I’m taking her to Kelly. As to your other question, we’re no longer under attack. But there are something like eleven other kids out here hiding or running. Can you find them?”

  “Can I check on my own first?”

  “I’m sure Pilar has them safe. If you need to anyway, make it quick.” Pilar had stayed back at the Kershaw place to protect—or run with, if necessary—the girls. Sierra stepped over a body and moved toward the Quinn driveway, but then she had a belated thought. “Wait, no. Why don’t you check on your kids and see if your girls will help you? Or at least Misha and Jasper. Maybe the kids will be more likely to come if they see other children. They might be afraid of any adult right now. And Jasper’s nose can’t hurt.”

  “Are you sure it’s safe for them?”

  “As safe as it was two hours ago,” Sierra said, a little put off by Joan’s hesitating. “C’mon, there’s a lot to do in the next few hours. Send Pilar to the Quinn house. We need to talk.”

  Sierra called, “All clear,” as she walked up the Quinn driveway.

  Arch came out on the porch. “Is it over? I was just going to come out and help.”

  Sierra said, “It’s done. Is Kelly here?”

  “She’s here, but she’s hurting. Got caught in a blast.”

  “Is Dev okay?”

  “We don’t know yet. He’s out like a light, but he walked here.”

  “I think this kid is okay, but I thought Kelly might help.”

  “A kid?” He seemed to just then notice her. Must really be distracted with worry for his family.

  “Didn’t you see? Didn’t they tell you about the kids?”

  “No. I was on the roof, waiting for an attack here that never came. I didn’t fire a shot. We’ve been doctoring Dev and—what kids? This isn’t the only one?”

  Sierra explained.

  “Man, that’s low.”

  “Well, they paid for it. Only left of them survived, and they ran, or we would have killed them too. Curt’s guarding the road, making sure they don’t come back. There are a bunch of weapons, but they got away with the grenade launcher. You knew about that?”

  He nodded and held the door for her. “That’s what
got Kelly and Devlin. What’s wrong with this one?”

  “Curt says she’s faking being unconscious, but I don’t know. Maybe it’s like Emily, only worse, so traumatized she can’t function.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to shoot any of those b—” He looked at the little girl. “Bad men,” he finished.

  “Where do I put her?” She was getting heavy.

  “Bring her in the living room. Kelly can tell us what to do for her.”

  Most of the Quinns’ social life took place in the kitchen, and being in the living room felt a little strange to Sierra. Kelly kept it neat, and there were knick-knacks and a family bible on a tall stand and the furniture was barely worn. But now, it was something of a mess. There was bloody gauze and bandage wrappers on the floor. Dev was on the sofa, covered with a blanket. They’d positioned him down halfway and put his knees up on the armrest. His feet dangled off the end. Kelly was on her knees by him, had a hardcover book open by Dev’s head and a computer tablet in hand and was flipping pages, muttering to herself.

  “Hon?” Arch said.

  She glanced up and then shot to her feet. “Oh my God, is she shot?”

  “I don’t know what she is,” Sierra said. She explained how Curt had determined the kid wasn’t really unconscious.

  Kelly looked to Dev and back at the little girl. “I guess we should…I don’t know.” She swayed.

  “Arch!” Sierra said, but he was already in motion, grabbing Kelly as she sagged to her knees, keeping her from falling hard to the floor.

  “We need a medic for our medic,” Sierra said, but she regretted the flip words the instant they were out. “What’s wrong with Kelly?”

  “Caught in a grenade blast. Both of them.”

  “Right.” Sierra remembered worrying about them, though it seemed like days ago, not minutes. “They don’t look bloody, either of them.”

  “Her arm was. I wrapped it already. That’s why I wasn’t out there helping the rest of you. And Dev took shrapnel—not metal fragments, thank God, but wood, bits of a tree.” He was sitting on the floor, cradling his wife in his hands. “She was worried about his eye, but then when he fell asleep and she couldn’t wake him—” His voice caught.

  Sierra had never liked Arch as much as she did right now, watching him look from his wife to his son, worry etching lines into his face. Gently, she said, “They’ll be okay. My dad is on his way over. He’ll help with them.” She shifted the kid in her arms. It was time to put the kid somewhere before Sierra dropped her. “Here you go, honey,” she said, and put her into an easy chair. It was a recliner, and Sierra looked around for a lever, but couldn’t see one. So she pushed on the headrest and pushed on the seat at the same time, and it slid back, making an angled bed for the girl.

  Kelly moaned. “Oh boy,” she said.

  Sierra studied her face. “You okay?” she said.

  “Just a little faint. I think it’s a mild concussion, at least, for both of us. The blast has a shock wave, and that can—” She closed her eyes. “Whoo. Dizzy.”

  “I’m going to put you in bed,” Arch said.

  “I can’t. My son needs me.”

  “Pilar is on his way. He and I and Sierra can take care of Devlin.”

  “No,” she said, struggling up. “At least let me stay here. I’ll rest, I promise. I’ll sit right over there in the recliner.” She turned her head to look at it. “Or not.”

  “I can move her,” Sierra said.

  “No, that’s okay,” Kelly said. “Arch, help me over there. She and I can share it. Might be good for her. Might be a comfort to me as well to cuddle a child again.”

  “Are you sure?” Arch said.

  “I’m sure. Even if I don’t use my hands, you can at least pick my brain.”

  Sierra went to scoot the kid over as Arch helped Kelly to her feet and guided her to the chair.

  Kelly said, “That’s good, Arch,” as he lowered her into the front edge of the chair’s seat. She reached for the unmoving child and shifted her until she could lie by her side. “Tight fit, but we’ll be fine, won’t we, honey?” The last was to the child, not Arch. She brushed the child’s hair back from her forehead, an unconscious mother’s gesture that made Sierra wish for a moment that her mother hadn’t left her so many years ago.

  Sierra went to look more closely at Dev. “What was wrong with his eye?”

  Arch said, “Shrapnel. She took most of it out when it happened. Then I held a magnifying glass while she got the rest. Just a splinter.”

  Sierra’s eye hurt in sympathy. “Can he see?”

  “He said so. It was in the white part of his eye, so I guess it missed the important bits.”

  “It’s puffy.”

  “Yeah, more than it was. It might swell shut, but me and Kelly both looked close. Nothing else left in there making that happen.”

  “Okay, so what was Kelly doing when I arrived? I mean, anything I can help with?”

  “Reading up on b—” He cleared his throat. “Brain injuries.” His face went through about four expressions in two seconds.

  Sierra wasn’t any less worried than he was, but she remembered how businesslike Kelly had been when Pilar fell, and how it had helped. She made herself take on the same brisk, businesslike tone. “This is because of the blast?”

  “Yes,” Kelly said from the sofa.

  “I may not be much of a doctor, but I can read okay. Want me to read aloud to you, Kelly?” Sierra reached for the book.

  “Not that,” Kelly said. “The tablet. Read where I stopped. Thank you, Sierra.”

  What Sierra read aloud wasn’t very reassuring. A blast can cause significant damage to the brain when the blast sort of accelerates the soft brain, but the skull bone doesn’t accelerate at the same pace. It was like a car wreck, sort of, like if you ran the electric car into a tree and the soft human body might slam against the hard dashboard. She wished she hadn’t come up with the analogy, but at least she didn’t say it aloud. She was almost done with the page she was reading when her father slammed through the back door, calling her name.

  He ran right up to her and pulled her up into a hug. “You’re okay?”

  “Perfectly fine. You? The girls?”

  “Who knows about Emily? She’s in the closet and has been since I walked in their door. Misha is fine. The dog was pacing and trying to get out. I think for her the gunfire means it’s time to go find a bird for her hunter.”

  “Did you see any of the other kids on the way here?”

  “No. Joan told me about them.” He looked around then and saw the one next to Kelly. “What’s her name?” he said.

  “Not a clue,” Sierra said.

  “None of them got hit?”

  “Oh my gosh,” Kelly said. “Rudy. I forgot all about him. Would someone go find him?”

  “I’ll go. Have any idea where he is?” Pilar said.

  “Under the rabbit hutch, last I saw him, but that was a while ago.”

  Sierra said, “I think he’s still there. Tell him to go out and help Curt keep watch. Or to start going through the cars and see what they might have left behind. Or to collect weapons. Something useful. I think he feels bad about not being able to shoot well yet, so give him something to do, would you?”

  Pilar gave her a last squeeze before leaving. The kitchen door banged shut a minute later.

  Sierra finished reading the last few sentences to Kelly. “Okay, that’s the end of the chapter. The next one is on something else.”

  “You know the terms. Look them up in the index of the big book there, see if you get any other advice.”

  “About what to do for him?”

  “I don’t think there is anything I can do beyond let him rest. If it were four months ago, I’d call emergency and have him on a helicopter.” Kelly made a face. “I’d like to know what signs of trouble to look for the next day or two.”

  Sierra wondered why, if she couldn’t do anything about it if he got worse. “I’m
sure he’ll be fine,” she said, as much to comfort herself as to comfort Kelly. Dev was like her brother, or her buddy in warfare these days. She’d liked him before, even if she had seen him as young and a little goofy. But he’d changed. And she had Rudy to compare him to. Now there was young and clueless. Dev was like a seasoned army commander in comparison.

  Forty-five minutes later, she and Arch were headed back to the road. Kelly swore she was feeling good enough, as long as she kept still. She’d keep a watch on Dev and the little girl. As Sierra and Arch left, Kelly started singing to the girl. Or maybe it was to Dev she was singing.

  Arch looked back over his shoulder twice before they were down the driveway.

  Sierra said, “If you want to stay with your family, everyone will understand.”

  “No. I’ll just hover and make her nervous.”

  “I’m sure everything will be okay.” She wasn’t sure, not really. But it seemed like the right thing to say. Halfway to the log barrier, she stopped him. “You hear that?”

  “What?” he said.

  “A kid crying. Hang on.” It was soft, and her ears were still ringing from the firefight, but she could just make it out. “I’ll be right there,” she said to Arch.

  “Be careful.”

  “Definitely.”

  She went for the sound, somewhere off in the scrub on the far side of their road, but as soon as she made noise pushing through the brush, the crying stopped. She quit moving. “Hey, kid. I’m one of the good guys. The bad guys are all gone.” She waited, thinking, how would a kid know one guy with guns was a good guy and the other a bad guy? “We have food. There’s other kids here your age.”

  Though she waited a few more minutes, there was no other sound. She was torn. Look for the kid—who might run from her—or help the others? She decided to let the child go for now. As far as she knew, the kid had fled from her voice. But if it was sitting there, afraid, she could give it information. “If you count the driveways, the third one is the house you want. It says ‘Right side’ on a sign, and there are kids there, and a dog. And a minister,” she added, hoping that sounded like a good thing to the child. “She’s out looking for you right now, worried. She’ll take care of you.” When another few minute of waiting yielded no response, she said, “Okay, I have to go do something, but you go to her house. You’ll be safe there.”