A New Start: Final Dawn: Book 9 (Volume 9)

by Darrell Maloney

  Probably not.

  More likely he’d run farther than the doe. More likely

  It would take longer for the drug to affect him given his size.

  In any event, David didn’t have time to dwell on it. He was up and running too, in the exact opposite direction the buck had run.

  David had to get back to his Gator. He didn’t have the luxury of pondering his options any longer. Wherever the big animal fell, he’d have a limited amount of time to get him tied and loaded and back to the mine. And he’d be too heavy to carry any distance.

  He full-out sprinted through the forest to where he’d left the machine and jumped on it, firing it up and gunning the accelerator in one fluid motion.

  Then he raced willy-nilly back to the spot where he’d taken his shot. And another seventy yards or so in the direction where the deer had bolted.

  He got off the vehicle but left it running while he looked around for tracks.

  Then he mounted up and moved forward another thirty yards.

  The ground was soft, and mostly covered with leaves and pine needles, but there were enough bare spots to record his hoof steps as he went. Only occasionally now did he have to dismount.

  The woods had thinned out now. That made it easier to drive the Gator through, but harder to spot broken twigs should the hoof prints dry up.

  It took another twenty minutes before he came across the buck, on wobbly feet like a drunken sailor, wandering aimlessly in the forest ahead of him.

  At one point he stopped and turned, looking at David as is to say, “You did this to me, you putz! What gives you the right?”

  Shortly after be lost his balance and side-stepped into a tree, then went down beneath its boughs, kicked a couple of times and went still.

  David was on him like a flash. It was foolhardy, for the beast might have had a couple of good kicks in him. But it had taken the big animal much longer to fall than the doe. He had to assume the dosage might not be as potent as it was on her.

  And under the same assumption, he probably wouldn’t be out as long.

  He had to get the animal back as quickly as possible.

  Luckily he didn’t get kicked in the head. He was able to get the buck hog-tied and into the back of the Gator, and was almost back to Highway 83, when the beast lurched.

  Then he started thrashing about, and rolled himself off the back of the bed and onto the trail behind him.

  The terrain was hilly. David wasn’t going fast enough for the buck to hurt himself.

  But he was pissed as he tried to kick free the bonds which held him prisoner. David could see it in his eyes. Though glazed over from the heavy narcotic, they also contained fire.

  Unable to break the rope that held his hooves together, he was left to roll, and to flop around like a fish out of water, all the time roaring his displeasure.

  David had no choice but to shoot him again, hoping he wasn’t giving him too much a dose. Hoping the buck’s heart wouldn’t stop beating.

  Hoping he wasn’t killing an animal who didn’t deserve to die. Who’d only wanted to be left alone.

  David had inspected the darts not long after that visit to the animal shelter. The first two rabbits he’d shot with them were out for a very long time. One almost three hours. The third one he shot had died.

  David had been convinced there was too much of the drug within the dart. That it was a dart made for animals larger than a rabbit.

  He’d looked closely at the darts to see if he could milk them somehow. To reduce the amount of narcotic within them. To allow him to shoot the smaller animals without the chance of killing or paralyzing them.

  But they were sealed. The only way to reduce the amount of the drug within them was to smash them. To break them apart, which would, of course, render them worthless.

  Had David been able to reduce the drug by half in some of the darts, he’d have given the buck a reduced dosage. To put him, perhaps, to sleep again, without risking an overdose.

  But he had no such option. He fired another round into the animal as he continued to roll around and try to free himself, even as he knew the risk he was killing him.

  Finally, after five minutes or so, the animal grew still again.

  He’d beaten himself bloody during his thrashing. Had even shattered his own nose.

  David suddenly felt ashamed of himself, almost dirty.

  He’d been a hunter all his life. Enjoyed a good kill as much as anyone.

  But despite his good intentions, despite his desire to save this beast from an uncertain future and ensure the survival of his species, he somehow felt he was violating one of the primary rules of the hunter’s code: never let your prey suffer.

  The rest of the way back he struggled with his conscience.

  Perhaps this was a bad idea from the get-go. They weren’t even sure another freeze was coming. And if it was, perhaps the white-tail population would survive on its own, as it had before.

  As he pulled into the mine and drove to the back of the bay where the buck’s pen was waiting, his internal debate took a back seat to the task at hand.

  Karen met him there, as she’d done every time before. She was an animal lover too, and wanted to help each of them, deer and rabbit alike, ease their way into their new homes. And while she didn’t like the whole idea of penning animals born to be wild and run free, she understood David’s reason for doing it.

  Understood it and accepted it.

  Until now.

  Now she wasn’t so sure.

  “David, what did you do? He looks like you beat him with a baseball bat!”

  “He came to while he was tied. I had to dart him a second time. He’ll be okay.”

  He was heavy. David had struggled mightily to get him into the bed of the Gator, and unceremoniously dragged him from it onto the floor of the mine.

  He hit the floor with a sickening thud, but didn’t feel it. The drug within his bloodstream was suddenly an ally in that regard.

  David didn’t waste time untying his knots. Rope was plentiful these days. Instead he pulled his knife, cut the animal free, and backed away from it.

  He knew that one good kick, even if it was involuntary, could cripple him.

  The two of them stood outside the pen, in safety, while they watched the animal come to.

  His eyes glazed over, a look of confusion upon his face, as he struggled to his feet. He fell once, then got back up on his front legs and looked around, as though to survey his situation.

  He was obviously uncomfortable in his new surroundings. The whiteness of it all. He’d gone from a forest with a thousand shades of green into a place where the floor beneath him was a dirty off-white. The wall on either side of him was off-white. Everything around him was off-white.

  Everything except for the hideous dark brown of the wooden pen which held him prisoner.

  The pen was good size, relatively speaking. Fully a quarter acre. He had room to run a bit.

  But he was no longer free.

  Finally, he made his way up and started walking unsteadily around.

  He saw the two humans watching him and backed away. Wanted to bolt but didn’t have it in him.

  Finally, David and Karen were convinced he’d be okay. Nothing appeared to be broken. He wasn’t favoring any of his limbs.

  They’d leave him in peace to suffer his wounds alone.

  As they walked away, David felt dirty and ashamed.

  -19-

  Today was the day everyone in the compound was looking forward to.

  Today was the day Sarah was coming home.

  Sarah had been kidnapped and horribly beaten at the hands of a man who’d pretended to be her husband.

  He was no longer a threat to her. Or to anyone else, for that matter. But he’d done his damage.

  When they’d rescued Sarah from Nathan Martel she was in bad shape. The wound to the back of her head wasn’t fresh, but it was still severe. The doctors who’d driven up from Wilford Hall had agreed
it was infected.

  And probably responsible for the swelling in her brain.

  Swelling, they believed, which was responsible for her memory loss.

  Their solution was to take her back to San Antonio with them. To remove part of her skull to give her swollen brain some relief as it healed.

  To seek out and remove any blood clots which might be present.

  To place her into a medically induced coma while her body fought its way back from the brink and healed.

  Now, three weeks later, Sarah was pieced back together and deemed ready to go home.

  Sarah had no idea what was going on back home at the compound.

  She didn’t know her friends had gone into full panic mode, scrambling here and there and everywhere to prepare for a second catastrophe they weren’t even sure was going to happen.

  Her husband Bryan knew, of course. But except for an occasional trip back to the compound to score a good meal and clean clothes, he wasn’t involved in the preparations either.

  Most of his time in recent days was spent where he was supposed to be. At his wife’s bedside, holding her hand and softly singing to her. Caressing her. Telling her he loved her.

  Coaxing her back to a world she’d largely forgotten.

  Now, as she sat on the edge of her hospital bed waiting for Mark and Hannah to arrive to take her home, she spoke softly to Bryan.

  “I’m not sure I’m ready for this,” she said.

  “Honey, you can’t start having second thoughts now. You can’t back out. It’s time to go home.”

  “I know, Bryan. It’s just that… well, I’m a little bit nervous. All I have is quick flashes of faces and events. Faces I think I know, but I can’t be certain. Events I think have happened but which might only be my imagination.

  “What if the faces flashing in and out of my mind don’t match up to the people at the compound? What if I get back there and still don’t remember any of them? What if they hate me because I’ve taken their kindness, their memories, and just washed them away like they meant nothing to me?”

  He held her close. Tenderly. Rocked her back and forth.

  “Honey, shhh. It’ll be okay. Nobody expects you to be the same Sarah who walked into the forest to pick flowers that morning. Everyone understands the situation. That it might take you awhile to recover every memory. That you may never get all of them back.

  “You have to remember, baby, that these people have known you for a very long time. They love you. They’ll care for you. They’ll help baby you back to health.

  “And they’ll be patient with you, as long as it takes for you to feel comfortable again.”

  “Knock knock.”

  Sarah looked up to see Hannah sticking her head into the doorway.

  “Can we come in?”

  Hannah had stopped halfway down the hallway with Mark. She was having reservations too.

  “What if she doesn’t recognize me,” she asked him. “What if all of our memories together are washed away forever?”

  She’d felt nauseated at the thought. Had wanted to run.

  But Mark didn’t let her.

  Sarah looked up at the sound of her voice. It was a familiar voice. A soothing voice.

  Hannah knew instantly, from the look on Sarah’s face, that her best friend knew who she was.

  Hannah’s reservations dissolved like so much dust in the wind. She literally ran to her and embraced her, but ever so gently.

  Both women had tears rolling down their faces.

  Even Mark, the stalwart of the group, had to turn away.

  Hannah brushed the hair from Sarah’s face and looked into her eyes.

  “I’ve missed you, pumpkin head.”

  Sarah managed a weak smile and said, “Well, you don’t have to miss me anymore. I’m back.”

  Hannah was surprised to feel her friend trembling.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I’m just nervous. I was just so worried that I wouldn’t remember you. That you’d be a stranger to me still. That this whole exercise of being here and healing all this time wouldn’t have done any good at all.”

  “How much do you remember, sweetie?”

  “Some things. Although I weren’t sure whether my memories with you were of you or somebody else until I saw your face. But they come and go. Mostly they’re fleeting flashes of people I think I know but not sure about. Places I think I’ve been but have no clue what they’re called. Or where they were. Or who was there with me. Or when they took place.”

  “Do you remember anything about where you worked… where we worked… before Saris 7 hit the earth?”

  “I think so. I mean, some of the flashes of memory take place in a work setting. I remember analyzing data and tracking objects in space and all. Why? Is that important?”

  Hannah pursed her lips.

  “It might be. I’ll talk to you later about it. First things first, though. We need to get you home and get you settled to get some of the stress off your shoulders Are you packed and ready?”

  “Yes. We’ve been waiting for you two.”

  “Okay, good. I’m going to ask you to wait another few minutes. Mark and I have an appointment with Dr. Wilcox and Dr. Medley at two thirty.”

  “It’s two thirty now. Are you okay?”

  “Yes. It’s just… something else. I only expect it to take a few minutes.”

  Hannah looked to Bryan for help.

  Bryan put his arm around Sarah and said, “Hey, let’s go down to the front of the hospital and sit in the courtyard while we wait for them. It’ll be the first fresh air you’ve had in awhile.”

  -20-

  Dr. Tim Wilcox was incredulous.

  “You can’t be serious. Please tell me this is some kind of sick joke. A stupid prank.”

  “It’s neither, Doc. At worst it’s just a silly woman being paranoid. I’ll leave it up to you to decide, and you can base your actions on whether or not our arguments have merit.”

  Dr. Wilcox was one of Hannah’s primary physicians. One of the men who’d clutched her from the angry jaws of death and who’d nursed her back to health. He was relatively young, having just completed his residence a few months before Saris 7 turned the world into a deep freeze.

  As a young single doctor, he was passionate, both about his work and a lot of other things. He was quick to anger and known to speak his mind without any hesitation. Or concern he might hurt somebody’s feelings.

  “All I can say is this better be good. I have the authority to have you committed for ten days for a psychological examination if I think you’re a danger to yourself or others.”

  Hannah suddenly grew panicked. But she wouldn’t let that deter her.

  The other doctor, Dr. Mason Medley, put a hand on his colleague’s shoulder.

  “Calm down, Tim. Let’s not forget this is the woman who saved a lot of lives by announcing to the world the first strike was coming. If anybody in the world is entitled to opine about a possible second strike, it’s this young lady.

  “And you and I both know she’s as sane as you or me.”

  Hannah’s panicked face grew less so and she managed a smile.

  “Thank you for the vote of confidence, Doc.”

  She stuck her tongue out at Dr. Wilcox. Despite his brashness, they’d always been on good terms until now. She hoped they could remain that way.

  “Okay,” Dr. Medley said. “Tell us what ya got.”

  Hannah very slowly and methodically told them about Cupid 23. She answered their questions as they arose and was careful to say she didn’t know for sure whether Cupid 23 was a threat.

  They asked her whether she thought they should elevate the news to the Lackland Air Force Base commander, or to the mayor of San Antonio.

  “That’s totally up to you,” she said. “You can weigh the possible benefits of preparing for a second strike against the harm a panic might bring. All I’m telling you is that our group of people, and at least one other group we�
�ve shared this with, have seen fit to start preparing.

  “Our logic is that if we prepare and it never happens, we haven’t lost anything. We’ll just have an easier time of surviving for the next few years because our food, water and fuel stores will be in a centrally located area where they’re easy to get.”

  Mark chimed in.

  “There’s something else you guys need to know as well. Perhaps something even more disturbing than the possibility of a second strike itself.”

  “Really?”

  Mark laid out everything for the doctors. How they’d lost a quarter of their livestock to Colonel Montgomery’s animal sharing program. How they’d contributed from their stock of seeds for his growing operation.

  How they’d been told their generous contributions to the cause were saving lives in San Antonio.

  And how they’d discovered every single word of it was bullshit.

  Mark laid out his suspicions, including the long line of cement mixers ready to pour concrete on a project which was supposed to be doing nothing more than collecting soil.

  How Joel, one of the military’s own, backed up their suspicions by saying that side of the base was strictly off-limits. That whatever they were doing there was highly classified.

  “Well, that much is apparently true anyway,” Dr. Medley said. I’ve been here for three years and I’ve never heard of any such growing operation, or any construction project, going on over on that side of the base.”

  Dr. Wilcox was still skeptical, but was trying hard to poke holes in the couple’s account and couldn’t.

  “I’ve never been big on conspiracy theories. But after the way President Sanders protected his own at the expense of everyone else, I put nothing past them anymore.”

  “So I guess the question is,” Hannah asked, “What are you going to do about it?”

  “I suppose we can ask around. Talk to some of the Army colonels we know. Some of the enlisted aircrew members. See if anybody can shed some light on what’s going on over there.”

  Wilcox asked, “Just one more question. You guys are taking your friends back to the Junction area. You’ve got a safe place to ride out another freeze, when and if there is one. So why are you telling us this?”