CHAPTER 50
They had walked through the night and it wasn’t until dawn the next day that a few of the Penco tribe happened upon them. They didn’t speak a word of English or Spanish but they understood that Duncan was severely injured and they led them back to a village that had a landline. Within two hours, a Jeep had arrived to take them to an awaiting plane and a hospital forty-five minutes from there.
She stayed with Duncan in the hospital. Partially, it was her affection for him, but it was also the fact that they didn’t use sterile surgical equipment and the ceiling in the operating room was caked with dry blood. She scrubbed in and stood by his side as they removed the slug from his shoulder.
The recovery was short and they were on a Boeing 747 within three days, heading to Mexico, then LAX, then their separate ways. Duncan insisted on buying a ticket on her flight but she assured him she was fine and that they both had business to take care of before meeting up. He didn’t seem convinced and bought the ticket anyway, but Sam persuaded him to reserve his own flight back to Maryland.
Duncan promised to come down to Atlanta as soon as he had recovered and she promised to come up as soon as everything was settled with the CDC. There would be massive reports to file, investigations, and possibly even some interviews with law enforcement. As she walked down to her gate, she turned and saw him standing against the wall, watching her. She would have preferred if he came with her; she didn’t feel like being alone right now, but she wanted to be pragmatic.
As her plane descended into the airport in Atlanta, she felt a powerful sense of welcoming. Atlanta wasn’t her hometown and she had few memories there, but there’s just something about landing in the city you live in that calms you and fills you with optimism.
After landing and heading out to the curb for a taxi, her first call was to Ralph, but he didn’t pick up; her second to her direct supervisor to apprise her of what had happened. They agreed that they would call the FBI tomorrow morning for a full briefing on Agent Billy Donner. But Sam had been through this before. Without any information to guide them, a report would be drafted and then filed away in an open case drawer somewhere, left untouched for years, even decades, until some agent with time on his hands decided to take a look at it. If lucky, because a federal employee was involved, the bureau might assign a special agent to follow up. Perhaps even send him to Honolulu.
The cab driver had to wake her as she got to her house. She went to pay and realized she didn’t have cash. She told him to wait and ran inside to find her money. Sam kept some cash in a drawer in the kitchen and she took a fifty and ran back outside to pay the cabbie.
The night air was hot and the moon was out but it was partially hidden by the few clouds that were dotting the night sky. She walked down her porch steps and stared at the stars as she came to the driver side window.
“How much was the fare again?” she asked. The driver didn’t respond. She bent down, closer to the window. “Excuse, how much was the fare?”
As she reached in to get his attention, she noticed the trickle of blood from behind his ear that was soaking the collar of his shirt. His eyes were glazed over and his head tilted just enough to the right that she couldn’t have noticed it at first.
She felt soft cloth around her neck and then it tightened like a vice. It tightened so violently that she was lifted off her feet and her air was cut off instantly. She began to gag, and drool began to slop from her mouth.
“You know,” Robert Greyjoy whispered in her ear. “It would’ve been far easier for you in the jungle. One quick shot and it would’ve ended. Now, I’m going to take my time.”
He began dragging her into the home, her feet kicking the pavement as she tried to scream but nothing escaped her throat. She was dragged up her porch steps and into the house as he kicked the door shut behind them.
He threw her into the living room. As she lay on the floor, he lunged and kicked her in the ribs. She spun over with a groan, the air knocked out of her, as he smashed down on her hand with the heel of his shoe.
Robert paced a few seconds and then stomped on her ribs, and then on her Achilles tendon, sending a shockwave of pain up and down her body. He kicked her again and again in the head and ribs and chest until she lay flat on her back, silent, the blood pooling around her and her vision spinning. He stomped on her stomach and when she didn’t move because of how numb her body had become, he stopped and stood over her.
“She was the only person in the world that I gave a shit about. The only one that actually knew who I really was. And you took that away from me. Do you know what that feels like? To be absolutely alone in the world? I was alone my entire life and for a brief period I thought, maybe, there was something else. Now I know there’s not. You’ve shown me something, Dr. Bower. You’ve shown me that the universe is the cold, dark place I always thought it was. And I hate you for it. I hate you more than I’ve ever hated anything in my life.” She mumbled something and Robert leaned down over her. “Was that begging that I just heard?”
“No,” she said. “Turn around.”
Robert looked up just as the 9mm Smith & Wesson fired. The round entered his cheek and exited out the back of his head, spattering brain matter, blood, and bits of skull over the carpet and wall. The corpse fell back over Sam, but she didn’t have the strength to heave it off her.
Duncan leaned down and lifted the corpse, moving it to the side. He helped Sam to her feet, putting her arm around his neck as they began to walk out of the house.
“You came for me,” she said, her voice hardly a whisper.
He looked to her, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. “There’s nowhere else I want to be.”
BY VICTOR METHOS
Jon Stanton Thrillers
The White Angel Murder
Walk in Darkness
Sin City Homicide
Arsonist
Thrillers
Plague (A Medical Thriller)
Murder Corporation (A Crime Thriller)
Creature-Feature Novels
The Extinct
Savage: A Novel of Madness
Sea Creature
Science Fiction
Clone Hunter
Star Dreamer: The Early Science Fiction of Victor Methos
Humor
Earl Lindquist: Accountant and Zombie Killer
Philosophical Fiction
Existentialism and Death on a Paris Afternoon
To contact the author, learn about his latest adventures, get tips on starting your own adventures, or learn about upcoming releases, please visit the author’s blog at http://methosreview.blogspot.com/
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Victor Methos is the bestselling author of THE WHITE ANGEL MURDER and THE EXTINCT. His works have appeared in magazines and literary journals across the United States and United Kingdom. He is currently on a quest to climb the “Seven Summits,” the highest points on earth, and to attain his certification as a deep-sea submersible pilot. He can be reached through his blog at www.methosreview.blogspot.com
Plague Page 23
