SIck

by Brett Battles

  He headed toward the side of the building.

  “Where you going?” Len asked.

  “I’m not going back inside!” Chuck disappeared around the corner. But it was only a couple seconds before he yelled, “Hey, Len!”

  “What?”

  “There’s a pay phone over here. If you have change you can call the police.”

  “You don’t need change to call 911.”

  “What?” Chuck’s voice had grown distant.

  “You don’t…never mind.”

  Len headed around the side of the building and saw that his friend had moved out into the desert. The phone was off to the right just a bit, hanging on a wooden post.

  Good, he thought as he walked over. At least now he and Chuck wouldn’t have to split up.

  13

  Ash woke with a pounding headache.

  He must have gasped or something, because a hand was suddenly on his shoulder, rubbing it softly. Then a voice said, “It's all right. You're okay.”

  It was a woman's voice, but it didn't sound like Janice's.

  “My head,” he grunted.

  He tried to raise his hand to his temple, but his arm would only move a few inches before it stopped. He opened his eyes just enough to see what the problem was. There was a tube or something coming out of his arm, and what looked like a leather strap around his wrist.

  He tried his other hand. It moved without opposition.

  “Sleep some more,” the voice said. “You’ve been through a lot.”

  “Are we stopped?” he asked, realizing he felt no motion.

  “Stopped?” A pause, then, “Just sleep.”

  And as if it were a command, darkness overtook him once more.

  • • •

  The next time he woke, his headache was gone.

  When he opened his eyes, he realized he was not, as he’d previously thought, still in the RV. Instead he was lying on a bed in a wood-paneled room, soft sunlight seeping in through the window on the far wall.

  There was a dresser to his left and an armoire in the corner beyond the foot of the bed. Below the window was a writing desk. All the surfaces were empty.

  He tried to prop himself up so he could look out the window and get a sense of where he was, but his right arm caught on something. No, he quickly realized, not caught. Restrained. Hadn’t he been immobilized the last time he’d woken?

  Around his right wrist was a padded leather cuff attached to the frame of the bed. The apparent reason for this was the IV line attached to his arm. His left, though, was completely free.

  He had no idea what he was being fed from the bag hanging on the stand, but the idea of being both restricted and drugged did not appeal to him. He quickly worked the cuff open, turned the IV flow off, and pulled the tube out of the port on his arm.

  His first stop was the dresser to see if there were any clothes to go with the T-shirt and underwear he’d been sleeping in. He found several pairs of jeans, more underwear, socks, and a whole drawer full of colored T-shirts. The bottom drawer even had two dark wool sweaters and a hooded pullover sweatshirt. The biggest surprise was that not only was everything new, it was all in his size, too. He got dressed.

  Inside the armoire he found the boots he’d worn during his escape, and beside them, the messenger bag. A quick check of the bag showed that the only thing left was the money. What did he care, though? None of the contents had been his in the first place.

  He pulled on the boots, laced them up, and walked over to the window. What greeted him was a surprise. It wasn’t the chaparral country where the mysterious Mike and Janice had picked him up, or even the desert. Instead, there was a mix of grassy fields and groves of evergreens. In the distance was a row of mountains.

  The only structure in sight was way off to the left and only partially visible. It was big, though. Maybe a barn or large equipment shed. No way to tell for sure.

  As for people, he saw none.

  Where the hell am I?

  He walked over to the door, put his ear against the wood, and listened. In the distance, he thought he could hear a low muffled conversation but that was about it.

  He glanced back at the room. He could wait until somebody showed up, but he was done waiting so he opened the door.

  “Thought I heard you moving around in there.”

  Directly outside was a hallway about as wide as the room he’d been in. Sitting on a wooden chair against the far wall was a tan-faced man with the gentle creases of someone who’d spent more than his fair share of time outdoors. He had a full head of salt-and-pepper hair and a short mostly-salt goatee. Ash guessed he was in his fifties, early sixties at most. He was outfitted in jeans and a green flannel shirt.

  The man pushed himself off the chair. “So how are you feeling?”

  Ash glanced down the hallway. “Where am I?”

  “You're safe, that's where you are.”

  “Yeah, that's not really an answer.”

  The man snickered. “No. No, I guess it's not.” He paused. “You're on the Hamilton Ranch. I’m Rich Paxton, but I go by Pax, mostly.” He held out his hand. “I help keep things running around here.”

  Ash kept his hand at his side. “You're the one in charge?”

  Pax shook his head. “No, that would be Matt. Matt Hamilton. It's his place. Well, his and Rachel's.”

  “I want to talk to him right now.”

  “That's convenient, because he wants to talk to you, too. Supposed to bring you to him when you finally got up. Which I guess is now.”

  “Let’s go,” Ash said, ready to follow him.

  Pax glanced down at the IV port still attached to Ash’s arm. “Should probably have Billy take a look at that first. Get that thing off you.”

  “I'm fine.”

  “Sure you are. But Billy's on the way, and it’ll only take a minute.”

  Pax led him through several hallways, a large sitting room, up one flight of stairs, and past a dozen closed doors. Whatever kind of building this was, it certainly wasn’t small.

  Finally, Pax stopped in front of an open door and stuck his head inside. “Billy?”

  “Back here,” a voice replied.

  Pax signaled Ash to follow him in.

  The room was set up like a doctor's office, complete with examining table, cotton swabs, blood pressure cuff, tongue depressors, and all the other medical items you'd expect to find. There was also a computer monitor and wireless keyboard on the counter.

  A door on the left led into another room. Since there was no one in the room they’d just entered, Ash assumed this Billy must be in the other.

  “The new guy needs his tube removed,” Pax said.

  “I need a few minutes,” Billy called out. “Just have him sit tight, and I'll be down as soon as I can.”

  “He's not in his room. I brought him with me.”

  There was the dull thud of a stack of paper being set down, then the sound of footsteps. A second later, a guy a few years younger than Pax entered from the other room. He walked over to Ash, grabbed his arm, and looked at the port. “You shouldn’t have done this by yourself.”

  “No one else was there.”

  “That’s not the point. What about the fluid? Did you close the tube, or is it running all over the floor?”

  Ash narrowed his eyes, not liking the tone of the man’s voice. “I cut the drip before I disconnected it. I hope that’s okay with you.”

  Billy frowned. “You should have just waited. You have no idea what was in the fluid. It could have been very dangerous.”

  “Was it?”

  “No, but it could have been.”

  Billy got to work removing the dock from Ash’s arm. When it was out, he used some gauze and a bandage to cover the wound. He then looked at Pax. “Can I get back to what I was doing now, or do you have any more emergencies?”

  “Have at it. I think we’re good.”

  Billy forced a smile then said to Ash, “Welcome to the ranch.” With that
, he headed back to the other room.

  Ash half expected Pax to give him an excuse for Billy's behavior once they were in the hallway again, but, to his credit, Pax said nothing. He led Ash to a closed door at the far end and knocked.

  “Come,” a muffled voice said from inside.

  Pax opened the door and let Ash pass through first.

  It was a big room divided into two areas. The far end was dominated by a large oak desk with a matching credenza behind it, while the area nearest the door was set up with a couch, chairs and a low-lying table. There were several windows, but wooden blinds prevented any clear view of the outside.

  The only person in the room was a man sitting in one of the stuffed guest chairs in front of the desk. He was probably about the same age as Pax, only with a little less hair on top and no goatee. Though the man was sitting, Ash could tell he was big. Long legs and a broad chest. Somewhere in his past he’d probably been a high school linebacker. The man had angled his chair so he could watch a TV hanging on the wall.

  Ash glanced at the screen just in time to see the Prime Cable News logo in the corner before the picture went dark.

  “Glad to see you're up,” the man said, rising to his feet. He was tall. Six-foot-three on the low end, maybe as much as six-five. His grin was friendly and welcoming as he extended his hand to Ash. “I'm Matt Hamilton. Welcome to the ranch.”

  Ash hesitated only a second before shaking. “I’m…” He stopped himself, unsure what he should actually say.

  “You’re Captain Daniel Ash.”

  “Yes,” Ash said with a sense of relief.

  “Welcome, Captain. Why don’t you have a seat?” He gestured toward the couch.

  Ash held his ground. “Excuse me if this sounds rude, but I’d like to know what the hell's going on.”

  “Of course you would. I would, too, if I were you. What would you like to know first?”

  “Let’s start with why I am here.”

  Hamilton shrugged. “Easy enough. You needed someplace safe to hide.”

  “And what am I hiding from?”

  “That one is not so easy.”

  Ash’s nostrils flared as he drew in a long breath.

  “Hold on, Captain,” Hamilton said. “I’m not avoiding your question. It’s just that there are several different answers, and I’m trying to figure out which is the one you’re interested in at the moment.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  Hamilton said nothing for a moment, then looked at Pax. “Can you give us a few minutes? Maybe make sure the captain’s quarters are ready?”

  “You got it.” Pax nodded to Ash and left.

  Once they were alone, Hamilton said, “You can stand, but if you don’t mind, I’m going to sit.”

  Hamilton favored his left leg as he headed for the couch. He caught Ash looking at it as he sat down.

  “I’m told a knee replacement will take care of the problem,” Hamilton explained. “Someday, I guess. When I have the time.”

  Ash walked over. He thought about remaining on his feet, but it seemed a pointless protest so he took the seat across from the couch.

  Neither man said anything for several seconds. Finally, Hamilton leaned forward. “By all rights, you should be dead.”

  A faint sneer grew on Ash’s face. “I’m having a hard time believing anyone was planning on killing me. I only went with your people for one reason—to find out who murdered my family and why.” He hesitated, then added, “They did get me away from the explosion, so I owe you thanks for that.”

  “You misunderstood me,” Matt said. “I wasn’t talking about the fact the order had been given to eliminate you before you woke, which it had been, or about the explosion, which wouldn’t have happened if you’d stayed.”

  “Then what are you talking about?”

  “The disease. It should have killed you, too. But it’s my understanding that you never showed any effects of the illness. There were seventeen families living at Barker Flats. Seventeen families, all recent transfers to a base that, until two months ago, had been in mothballs. Of the sixteen families besides yours, none had any survivors. So what made you different?”

  Ash stared at Hamilton in shock. “None? They’re all dead?”

  A pause. “They are.”

  Ash began breathing rapidly, his anger boiling just under his skin. He pushed himself up. “How many people?”

  “There were fifty-seven total in the other families.”

  “Fifty-seven?” With Ellen, Josie, and Brandon, that made an even…“Sixty total. My God.” He turned to the television. “It must be all over the news.”

  Matt hesitated for a split second before saying, “It hasn’t been all over the news. There’s been no report whatsoever.”

  “What?” Ash couldn’t believe it. He began pacing in the space in front of the door. Maybe the government didn’t want to cause a panic. The country took a pretty big hit after 9/11. Sure, everyone had rallied together, but there’d been so much confusion, too. “Do they know who did it? Have they found them?”

  Matt took a longer pause this time before answering. “Captain, I will always tell you the truth. That’s the promise we make here. Sometimes, though, there are things that need to be held back. Perhaps someone isn’t ready to hear it yet, or perhaps the information is just too sensitive. When these situations arise, we won’t lie about it and try to cover it up, but the information will not be shared, either.” He paused. “There are things you don’t know and don’t understand. As soon as we’re completely sure we can trust you, you will be told. Just not now.”

  “Trust me?”

  “Just like you’re unsure whether you can trust us.”

  As true as the statement was, Ash didn’t like hearing it. “What couldn’t you trust me with?”

  “Is that a trick question?” Matt said. “Okay. How about this? The truth about what happened at Barker Flats.”

  Ash stared at Hamilton. “Whatever happened killed my family! I have every right to know the truth!”

  “I would feel the same as you,” Hamilton said calmly.

  “Then tell me!”

  “When the time is right.”

  Ash stood motionless for several seconds then said, “Mr. Hamilton, I appreciate your hospitality, and whatever you did to help me get away from Barker Flats. There’s money still in my bag. Yours, I assume. I’ll leave it in the room. I don’t have any of my own to cover whatever expenses you might have incurred. I apologize for that.” He took a step toward the door. “If someone could show me the way to a main road, I’d be grateful.”

  Hamilton considered him for a moment, then stood up. “It’s late. Spend the night and you can get an early start in the morning.”

  “You’ll lock my door and keep me from leaving.”

  Hamilton shook his head. “No. If you want to leave, we won’t stop you. But we also won’t be able to protect you.”

  “I can protect myself.”

  Hamilton nodded. “I’m sure you’ll do the best that you can. I only ask when they do track you down, you don’t mention the ranch or any of us here.”

  “They won’t track me down.”

  Matt remained silent for a moment, his expression blank. Finally, he said, “I’ll have Pax show you to your quarters. If you decide to stay the night, you’re welcome to join us for dinner at seven.”

  Ash answered with a single nod.

  “One more thing,” Hamilton said.

  He limped back over to his desk and pulled a package out of the credenza. It was the same package Ash had been given in the desert. One end was open now. Hamilton reached in, pulled something out, then walked back over to Ash.

  “I believe this is yours.”

  He held out his palm. In it was a watch.

  Ash tried not to shake as he lifted it up. It wasn’t an expensive brand, but it was priceless to him. He turned it over. Engraved on the back, just as he knew it would be, was:

  Happy Birthday,

>   All My Love,

  Ellen

  He had assumed the watch was destroyed in the explosion. He had thought he’d never hold it again. “This was in the package?”

  Hamilton nodded.

  “What else is in there?”

  “That was the only personal item of yours.”

  “Are you lying to me?”

  “I told you, we have no room for lies here.”

  Ash stared at the watch a moment longer, then put it on.

  For the first time since the night that life as he knew it ended, he cried.

  14

  By the time Len and Chuck found their friends Jimmy and Walt at the campground, it was well after dark but they had the excuse of a lifetime.

  They joined the other two at the campfire and recounted the afternoon’s events. Chuck played it up to its morbid best, while Len exaggerated his friend’s freak-out at finding the body.

  “He threw up everywhere! If I hadn’t jumped out of the way, I’d have been covered in it,” he said. “Then he refused to go back inside, like he thought the guy was going to jump up and come running after him.”

  “Yeah,” Chuck said, smiling. Jokes at his expense never bothered him. “Like a zombie, man. Hey, you never know.”

  Someone threw an empty beer can at him as the rest laughed.

  By the time their fire died down to a few coals, they’d retold portions of the story half a dozen times.

  “I’m beat,” Len finally said, getting up. He swayed a little bit, and had to steady himself by putting a hand on Walt’s shoulder.

  “Whoa,” Jimmy said, laughing. “Drink a little too much?”

  Len scowled at him. “Ha ha.”

  He’d actually had only two, but it had been a long day—the driving, the dead body, the police—so it was a wonder he could even keep his eyes open.

  “If you guys are going to stay up, keep the noise down,” he said. “I want to get some sleep.”

  “No guarantees,” Walt told him as he popped open another beer.

  “You guys suck,” Len said.

  He headed over to the tent he and Chuck were sharing. As he unzipped the door, he coughed and then cleared his throat. Stupid dry desert air, he thought. He grabbed a bottle of water out of the cooler and crawled inside.