“Come on!” someone shouted, grabbing the back of his shirt and pulling.
Evans stumbled backward, his boots slipping in the blood. He refused to turn, to expose his back to the dead, but as he stepped away, he realized that that was what he was doing anyway. Zombies had been piling up on the sides he wasn’t watching, and while other people had been taking them out, something must have made them stop. If Evans had stayed put, he would have been surrounded.
Once far enough back, someone else shoved Evans behind him and began firing at the zombies who were giving pursuit. It allowed Evans to finally take another breather and look around.
His people and the container yard people were hard to distinguish from one another. There were combatants everywhere covered in sweat, grime, and gore, all of them exhausted, frightened, and determined—at least the ones he could see. A lot more melee weapons had been drawn as ammo ran out, less-skilled shooters handing over their guns to those with a better eye.
“Evans! You’re still alive!” Old Salt suddenly appeared before him, gap-toothed and filthy. It took Evans a moment to remember who he was. His past had been burned away in the heat of combat; there was nothing left but where the next thing he had to kill was.
Evans grunted some sort of response, his eyes quickly pulling away to look toward their feet, to search for the next zombie trying to climb up. He pushed past Old Salt to move to the edge, looking down into the gutter between containers. There were corpses scattered everywhere, but all of them appeared fully dead. Most of the climbers were farther along, back where he had come from. Evans made his way toward them.
“Evans, wait!” Old Salt was shouting behind him.
Evans had no time to talk to the man, not while the dead were still threatening them.
“Evans!” Old Salt screamed, just as someone bumped into Evans’ side while running past.
The slick blood covering Evans’ boots offered no traction. He slipped over the side of the container and fell.
30
Riley’s Groggy
“Attention Black Box residents, this is Commander Crichton speaking. This is an orange evacuation. I repeat, this is an orange evacuation.”
Riley had been resting with her eyes closed and thought that maybe she had fallen asleep. She pried her weary lids open to look for someone who could confirm what she heard.
“Josh?” she said weakly.
It was Robin who appeared above her first, the crowd of other people taking shelter in the medical centre buzzing around behind her.
“Did you hear?” Robin queried Riley as she took note of all her vital signs.
“Orange evacuation?” Riley hoped it was something else she might have heard but was doubtful.
“Yeah.” Robin pulled out a penlight and shone it in Riley’s eyes.
Riley squinted, resisting the urge to turn away. “I should be strong enough to walk, but I’ll need help.”
“No, no, stay put,” Robin insisted. “Josh is grabbing a stretcher.”
“I don’t need one.”
“Yeah, but to those guys out there, it’ll look like you do. Anything we can get out, we’re taking.”
Riley saw the sense in her words and nodded. “Can you make it look like you’ve hooked an IV bag to me, but not actually have it dripping?”
“I could, but you may still need those fluids.”
“No, I’ll be alright. I can drink if you find me water. We’ll save the bag for someone more desperate.”
Robin nodded, then disappeared into the shifting blur of people. They had all moved into the operating room, the only room large enough that didn’t have someone who had been killed in it, but they were now preparing to leave. Focusing, Riley saw people out in the waiting room, slowly removing their barricade, while everyone else scurried about, finding ways to hide what they could on their persons. Groping with her hand, Riley located the scalpel she had used to kill the man who had invaded their space earlier. Very gently, she tucked it beneath the bandages wrapped around her chest. When Josh showed up or Robin came back, she’d ask one of them to find more instruments she could hide.
Watching the people, Riley was happy to see the creative ways they were finding to smuggle out supplies. Injuries were faked, with bandages and gauze thoroughly wrapped around limbs so as to be reusable later. They were careful not to overdo it, but even a few gave them something they wouldn’t have had otherwise. Those who were already ill and looked it, were receiving fake IVs; Robin was instructing them how to do it. Medical tape was peeled off rolls and used to hold small pieces of equipment and medicine to places like people’s inner thighs, armpits, or the small of their backs, anywhere their clothes hung loose enough to hide them. Women carefully tucked things into their bras or even their hair if it was long enough, while others put what they could inside their shoes.
“Your chariot,” Josh joked, appearing at Riley’s side with an old, military canvas stretcher.
“Not something newer?” Riley wondered as he placed it on the floor beside her.
“We may want the canvas later. Also,” Josh picked up Robin’s shotgun, which was sitting nearby and placed it in the middle of the stretcher.
“The canvas will make it less obvious that I’m lying on something.” Riley nodded in understanding.
“It’s going to be really uncomfortable,” Josh warned her.
“I’m uncomfortable anyway.” The more time passed, the less effective the pain medication was, and the more she felt a dull, aching throb from her chest, not to mention the drainage tubes sticking out of her. Just knowing about them made her mentally uncomfortable, and she kept trying to convince herself that they weren’t there.
“Can I get a hand over here?” Josh turned to the room.
A woman Riley didn’t really know came over with a pillow in one hand and another pillowcase in the other.
“I made this; I thought we could tuck it under your head, claim we have to keep it elevated if they ask.” The woman showed Josh and Riley the inside of the pillow. It was stuffed with gauze to give it a pillow shape, but there were also medicines carefully tucked into it as well, and maybe some other items Riley couldn’t quite make out. The woman took the second pillow case and slid the first one into it in a reverse fashion so that nothing could slide out. “I’m also going to make one for Max.”
“Make one for his head, and one with nothing hard in it for his hips. The ride is going to be really hard on him,” Josh told the woman, who nodded and trotted off, leaving the false pillow behind. Max was the only one injured who definitely couldn’t walk: his hip was broken in a fall when he slipped from the top of a train car a few days ago.
“You said you needed a hand?” Robin had come up beside them when the lady showed them her trick.
“Yes, we’re moving Riley to the stretcher.”
Josh helped Riley sit up, which took more energy than she thought it should and made her head swim all over again. Maybe she couldn’t walk with support like she thought she could. While Josh gently lifted her upper body, Robin took hold of Riley’s legs, and together they slid her over the side of the bed and carefully laid her down on the stretcher. The shotgun pressed annoyingly into Riley’s spine, but she was glad for it. She liked having a gun so close. Josh tucked the false pillow under her head, poking at it to make it look natural, while Robin quickly hung the fake IV. The real one stayed attached to Riley’s arm for now, but would be unhooked soon when they left. Josh pulled her blanket off the hospital bed and draped it over her before hurrying off to help someone else.
From the floor, Riley watched all the feet scurrying about and thought of Rose. She wondered if this was what it had been like for her when the Diana sank and the medical centre there had to be evacuated. Probably not, as smoke was coming in during that time, raiders threatened to board and shoot them, and Rose herself was delirious from both pain and the medication they had given her in the process of closing the wound that was where her hand had once been. Thinking b
ack to how she had huddled next to Rose, waiting for the stretcher to come back, refusing to leave until her last patient was out, Riley thought that this wasn’t so bad. Other than being forced to leave, the worst part was the way everyone avoided looking at her, even though her bandages were covered.
“Okay, time to go,” someone by the door said morosely. The last piece of their barricade was slowly pushed away.
Josh returned to Riley’s side with another man, unhooked her dripping IV and put the non-dripping one in its place, the bag hanging from a short pole attached to the stretcher.
“On three,” Josh spoke to the man Riley thought she recognized but wasn’t sure. “One, two, three.”
Riley was hoisted into the air by Josh and the other man, the canvas folding partially around her. She did her best to lie in a position that looked natural, to make it appear that nothing was under her, even though the blanket hid the majority of her body. The stranger was near her head, while Josh was by her feet where she could see him. Riley couldn’t see much of where they were going as she was being carried head first, so she mostly watched Josh and his expressions, her eyes darting to either side whenever something passed by.
As they exited the medical centre, they walked past an angry brute of a man wearing tactical armour and a scowl. In his hands he held an AK-47, not the most practical weapon against the dead, but it was certainly effective on the living.
“No way, this stays,” a woman declared, approaching Riley’s stretcher. Josh and the other man nervously stopped as she reached forward and yanked off Riley’s blanket. Riley watched her face fall into a disgusted look as she saw Riley’s chest. One of her tubes must have drained a bit of fluid at that point, because the woman’s face instantly turned into one of utter revulsion as she half-dropped, half-tossed the blanket away from her. “Go, go,” she waved them on, her eyes diverting to anywhere else.
As they moved down the hallway, Riley could hear random people being stopped for searches, and even witnessed a few as they passed by. Some items were going to be found, but they weren’t stopping everyone and the searches didn’t appear to be all that thorough.
Into the stairwell, they passed another guard, this one with an Uzi. A constant stream of people was making its slow way up the stairs as they stepped to one side.
“Hey, keep moving!” the guard barked.
“Give us a second; stretchers aren’t easy to carry up stairs,” Josh retorted.
“You should be grateful we’re giving you that, or the clothes on your backs for that matter.”
“Do you want to take care of her?” Josh gestured with his head to Riley.
The guard took a look and then sneered, turning away. “Just hurry up.”
Josh gave Riley a wink. The fact that no one wanted to look at her for long was helping them out, but it certainly wasn’t doing Riley’s self-image any favours.
While Josh and the other man manoeuvred onto the stairs—Josh switching his grip to hold it up near his shoulders and keep the thing as level as possible—Riley searched the crowd for her daughter. Hope would be part of this slow moving train; she just didn’t know which part. Riley was aware some of their own would have died during the assault, but she felt in her bones that Hope wasn’t one of them. Cameron, Brunt, Abby, and Lauren would protect her just as fiercely as they would their own.
The stretcher moved up the stairs at the same pace as everyone else, so Riley didn’t have to worry about people constantly passing by and getting that look on their face. Andrew, a patient of Riley’s, joined them after a flight of steps, offering to help Josh with his end. Josh was grateful for the assistance, as the stretcher was wider than his shoulders and it was awkward for him to carry it the way he was. Riley wouldn’t mind not being level, but then the shotgun might slide out from underneath her. Andrew didn’t seem to mind her bandages or anything, treating her the same way Josh and Robin did. Riley wondered if his stomach was still full of foreign objects due to his compulsive-eating problem, or if he was going through all of this post surgery like she was.
Around and around the staircase they went. Riley spent most of the time looking up the middle, hoping to spy someone she knew. She could tell by the way Josh’s head kept swivelling around that he was looking for Anne. Lots of people appeared to be searching for specific others, but no one called out or disrupted the flow of human traffic. At each level, they passed another guard, and more people slowly entered the stream, but none of them was Hope, at least not as Riley went by. Each landing was awkward for the stretcher-bearers as they attempted to keep it level, but after a few they got into a sort of rhythm that worked. Now when Riley looked up the stairwell, she could see the top.
Outside, the train of people continued, heading toward some section of the fence that Riley couldn’t see. Two more of the invaders harassed parts of the line, searching for smuggled goods, but none of them approached the stretcher.
Another pair of people showed up and offered to carry the stretcher for a while. Josh and the others agreed, their arms exhausted from all the stairs. For a brief moment, Riley thought she was going to be left alone with people she barely knew so that Josh could go look for Anne, but she was mistaken: Josh merely stepped away to ask another patient how he was doing, then returned to Riley’s side.
In a moment of weakness that she disliked herself for, Riley reached out and squeezed his hand. “Don’t leave me alone, okay?”
“I don’t intend to go anywhere,” Josh assured her. “Even if you weren’t here, I have other patients in the immediate area who might need me.”
Riley wondered if that was true, or if Josh was just saying that to make her feel better, to make her feel less like a burden.
The sun had risen above the horizon as they approached the fence. A rumble like very distant thunder caused the procession to pause. Riley turned her head in the direction of the container yard, sure that the sound had come from there. She also thought she heard an even lighter, less consistent rumbling from, presumably, the same direction, but as others had started moving again, clearly not everyone had heard it. Was it coming from the yard? Or might the river be carrying the sound from somewhere else?
“Keep moving!” one of the invaders barked at her stretcher-bearers
Did the invaders know about the container yard? It was unlikely. Crichton would never have consented to leave so easily without having a refuge. Then what was happening over there?
“Josh?” Riley looked up at him, but he only shook his head in response. Was that because he didn’t know, or because he didn’t want to risk talking about the container yard with hostiles so close?
They passed through the fence by moving through the cab of a large truck that was imbedded in it. It was difficult to manoeuvre the stretcher through, but Riley bore the jostling in silence, wondering how Max was doing on the other stretcher. Was he ahead of her, or behind? Riley had failed to notice.
Outside the fences there were no assailants, but the flow of people kept moving.
“We’re heading the wrong way,” Riley whispered, noticing immediately. Although it was quickest and safest to take the boats between the container yard and the Black Box, Riley knew what the overland route was, and this wasn’t it.
Josh just shook his head again, but this time his expression was one of confusion.
“It’s all right,” a voice ahead drifted toward them. “Just keep following the people in front of you, it’s okay.”
Riley couldn’t see who it was until they were next to him.
“Winchester!” she called out.
Winchester startled, stared at her for a moment as he fell behind, then finally recognized her and ran up beside her stretcher.
“Don’t worry, we know where we’re going,” he spoke in a rush, speaking more to Josh than to Riley. “Just follow the others; there’s a plan. I don’t know what it is, but Bronislav is leading us somewhere. I saw Lauren, Claire, Peter, and Dakota pass by a while ago. They were with your sister a
nd daughter,” Winchester briefly looked down at Riley before looking back at Josh. “I haven’t seen Abby or Anne yet, but I’m sure they’re all right; they’re probably just behind you somewhere. Don’t stop, just keep walking.”
Before any questions could be asked, Winchester disappeared, heading back to where he had been before, urging people to keep moving and telling them that everything would be all right.
Riley wanted to tell her carriers to go faster, to catch up to her daughter wherever she was, but managed to keep her mouth shut. They were all going to the same place; they’d be together in the end.
As soon as the Black Box fences were out of sight, the column left the industrial roads and buildings to head into the woods. Robin came over and retrieved her shotgun from beneath Riley, bringing a relief that Riley hadn’t realized how badly she needed. Looking to one side, she spotted a fairly large and freshly dug hole. As she was pondering it, they passed another: this one with a man squatting down beside it. An unfolded tarp lined the bottom of this second hole, and the man was handing out baseball bats, crowbars, and bladed weapons evenly along the line.
Weapons cache, Riley realized as the hole disappeared behind them. She didn’t see any guns though. Ammo was probably too precious to waste by having it buried out here. Still, some weapons were better than no weapons, and the tarp would come in handy. She hoped the first hole had been filled with the same, or maybe with food, and that it wasn’t just a hole they dug in the wrong spot as they looked for the cache.
Defensive Instinct (Survival Instinct Book 4) Page 42
