by A. R. Shaw
“Turn the light off, Clarisse.”
She recognized his voice. “Sam?” she gasped and sucked in her breath at the same time. She remembered the danger he posed to her and jumped back several feet farther, shaking with raw fear though she was probably at a safe distance.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered loudly and scanned the area, terrified someone else would detect his presence. She flicked her light on him once again, and he swayed as he took a quick step to the side.
“Is she safe, Clarisse? Is she?” he asked, pleading, his voice broken.
“You, you can’t be here, Sam! What were you thinking?”
“Where’s my daughter?” he howled in grief.
Clarisse shook her head. “I . . . I don’t know,” she stuttered. She pointed at the charred body, “I just came to find out if”—she whimpered—“if that was her.” How it hurt to utter the words!
“It’s not. It’s Tammy.”
Clarisse doubled over and cried. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” he said gravely. “I’m sure. I looked.”
“Okay, okay,” she panted, standing erect and pointing the flashlight at him again. The dried blood on his coat had become wet again, and he swayed and staggered from another dizzy spell.
“You’re hurt, Sam. What happened? Weren’t you on a hunting trip?” she asked, confused, trying to make sense of his presence here.
“On our way back, we saw the fire. There was some, um, trouble on the trip,” he said, his voice weak and halting.
Fear shot through her. Had the entire prepper colony been exposed to the virus? “Are the others wandering around here too?” As if dealing with the fire hadn’t been trauma enough.
“No. They’re at Graham’s camp. It’s just me. I need to know if Addy is safe. Where is she, Clarisse?”
She avoided the question. “Did you come close to anyone here?”
“No. I kept my distance. I’m not trying to hurt anyone. I heard you ask about the body in here. So, after everyone left, I came to check. I have to find her. I have to know she’s all right.” Clarisse heard the desperation in his tone and saw it in his strained face, though they stood the length of the greenhouse apart.
“You can’t be in here, Sam. I’ll find Addy. Please, go back to Graham’s camp, and get medical attention,” she tried to reason with him. “I’ll send word as soon as I find her.”
Before she completed her thought, he had already turned and scaled the perimeter fencing to the other side. He obviously would not take her advice right now and would continue his search for his daughter. She had to find Addy first, or Sam might accidentally expose the child to the virus—an outcome they’d all regret.
She also needed to keep his presence in the camp a secret. By their own rules, he would be shot dead on the spot if found within the perimeter. The penalty was a law they had to enforce for their own safety, but Clarisse only had time to worry about Addy right now; she had to find the child.
There was only one place Addy might go to if she had walked out of the tent into the mayhem earlier. The thought scared her. Addy, frightened, would head for the river in the dark, waiting for her father to come and save her.
She took off toward the quarantine building. The others would not understand what she needed to do, but the dawn’s light was beginning to break and she had to get there before Sam thought of the probability first and accidentally expose her to the virus.
Upon entering the crowded quarantine building, Clarisse saw most of the preppers hacking and coughing, even as the stronger ones aided those who were injured.
Rick had cleared a conference room and rushed around setting up cots from a storage closet. Steven tended to Reuben’s youngest daughter, who had burns to her feet. Clarisse heard her say, “I had to run through the fire when I got out of our tent.” The child coughed and wept as Steven worked over her.
Steven’s head jerked up from his task as Clarisse hurried past to her office. She pretended not to have noticed him, though guilt stung her as she made her way between those huddled in the hallway with varying expressions, from horror to dull acceptance. Stepping around and between bodies, she hurried on.
“What’s going on, Clarisse?” Steven’s voice called after her. “Dalton’s down. We have three dead, and you’re MIA?”
“Addy’s MIA,” she snapped back at him. “I’m going out to look for her right now. I’ll take a radio.”
She began to rummage through her supplies, snatching up the things she needed. With a glance over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t observed, she opened the refrigerator and pulled out a syringe with the new serum. She quickly capped it and carefully tucked it into her backpack with her other supplies.
“We need you here, Clarisse,” Steven said as she stepped out. “I can’t do this all by myself. Look at these people.” He waved toward the injured with a wad of gauze in his gloved hand.
That pissed her off, partly because she knew it was true and partly because she was damn near her breaking point. “Addy needs me more. Keep everyone out of my lab.” She strode away despite the pleas of the injured and Steven’s angry demands she stay. She didn’t dare stop; she could not forsake Addy.
Outside the dawn peeked over the horizon, casting into stark light their marred oasis, surrounded by the forbidding forest. The few people Clarisse ran into outside were trekking their way back and forth between the burned camp and the quarantine building. The refugees toted random supplies in a daze. Each was on a mission, barely making eye contact, glazed with the unbelievable events of the night. Not surprisingly, they didn’t even ask Clarisse what her intentions were when she unfolded and donned a sterile suit over her outerwear and trekked south from camp.
A new day began to form, whether they were ready for it or not. The voices of those earlier in distress and confusion replayed in Clarisse’s ears. In that state, she could only imagine that Addy must have woke, emerged from the tent, and run into the bedlam around her not knowing what to do. In her terror she’d have run for the only person she knew would never let her down—her father.
Clarisse quickened her pace to the rendezvous spot where she had taken Addy so many times before to visit with Sam. Now, as the daylight grew, he probably watched her every move from a safe distance, or he was searching for Addy on his own. That could mean death for the girl if he didn’t keep a safe distance.
Clarisse’s heart ached. She, too, truly loved Sam’s daughter, but did she love her enough to take the action she feared she might have to? And if she did it, and Addy knew, would she ever forgive Clarisse? She checked the cylinder of the revolver before palming it closed, the familiar click resounding before she placed the gun in her harness. She knew Sam was desperate, and desperate people often made terrible mistakes, no matter their love and good intentions.
30 Found
At five in the morning, the February sun had barely began its ascent toward dawn. It cast a lavender hue against the atmosphere, slowly creating a dark silhouette of the mountains to the east. Unfortunately this dawn met Macy mixed with smoke and a trepidation for what she might find.
With only the rumble of the truck engine, the morning held a silent foreboding. She leaned farther out the broken window to peer through the hazy woods. The glow of the distant fire ceased along with the sound of the alarm right as she turned out onto the main road into town. Seeing no immediate danger, she assumed whatever had caused the fire was now under control, meaning her camp was no longer in any danger and that she was free to search for Graham.
“Tala, come in. Over.”
“Go ahead, Macy.”
“The alarm’s off, and no flames are present. I think they’ve got it under control now.”
“Whew! Okay, come on back.”
“Roger, Macy out,” she said, not exactly lying but not conforming either.
She continued on, easing down the main road of Cascade, scanning for Graham’s truck. With residual smoke billowing out of the woods, t
he haze settled like a persistent fog along the icy streets, causing her to occasionally rub at her irritated eyes.
She had to find Graham first, to learn what had kept him away. She hoped to find Sam as well, but it made sense to check the streets of Cascade before she went tromping through the woods. She figured she had at least an hour before Tala began to panic.
She scanned the side streets until she caught a glimpse of something brown in front of her. She hastily slammed on the brakes, causing her truck to slide five feet forward as deer crossed the road. One of the wide-eyed deer stopped right in the middle of the street and gazed at her, only moving again when the last one in the herd caught up. Macy continued her drive, peering through the forest to catch a glimpse of them, but they were already gone, having escaped into the woodland depths like ghosts.
As she turned the corner to get to the post office, she spotted three snow-covered mounds by its front door. They had been there for a while, since the drifts to the right of them were at least two feet deep. “Oh, Graham, no!” she moaned aloud. “Please, please don’t be there!”
She pulled up, turned off the ignition, and examined her surroundings while taking off her seatbelt, ever prepared for danger. She pulled out her pistol and grabbed her flashlight before cautiously approaching the mounds. She sucked in a breath so cold it made her teeth ache when she saw the brown oxidized blood on the snow. She quickly brought her hand to her mouth. “Oh God, no,” she whispered, shaking from more than the cold.
Macy swallowed the rising bile, and with the tip of her boot she began to brush away a little snow from the first camouflaged dune. She uncovered the fur of a dog’s side, and with hope she quickly checked the other mounds to be sure they were dogs too.
After confirming that Graham wasn’t among the carnage, she stepped back and tried to piece the scene together. She peered down at the dead dogs, frozen stiff in their snowy graves, with a lot of what she suspected to be Graham’s blood too. There had been a struggle with the dogs and Graham had gotten away. At least she had hope. He must be somewhere nearby. He’s got injuries, or he’d have driven home yesterday. Then, through the drifting smoke, she spotted his truck a few houses down the street.
Gun at the ready, she crept—one methodical, quiet step after another—to inspect the passenger side of the pickup for any clues.
Maybe he made it inside that house?
She jumped back and took safety behind the truck as loud, frustrated yelling came from somewhere behind the house. “Get the hell out of here, you fucking assholes!”
At first Macy thought the unfamiliar voice bellowed insults at her, but as she peeked around the truck, she saw no one. She circled around to the back of the building, hoping to get a glimpse of whoever yelled and, perhaps, what he was shouting at. As she rounded the back, she saw a young man waving his arms, shouting to defend his horses from three approaching wolves. She didn’t want anything to do with an unfamiliar person, but the stranger had Graham’s truck and probably also had an idea of what had happened to him.
The wolves were down low, crouching for an attack. The guy stood waving a lantern in one hand and throwing what seemed to be old potatoes from the other. He was clearly armed with a gun in a holster around his waist, and the fact that he was using potatoes as ammo didn’t make sense to Macy.
She crouched there, trying to piece together what might have happened to Graham, all the while staring at the potato-throwing man as he continued to berate his attackers. Obviously he had been attacked by the dogs who now lay dead in front of the post office and was likely the one who killed them, because there was no one else around. Maybe this guy had the answers, but maybe he’d also killed Graham. She didn’t have any idea, but would not take chances with a stranger.
She needed the guy alive to question him and he wasn’t doing a good job of staying that way just now. Graham always said, “Stay away from the crazies.” Macy wasn’t sure if this guy was crazy or what, but he certainly wasn’t acting sane at the moment. She had no doubt she was about to witness his own mauling.
One of the wolves cut low and to the left, coming in for a side attack at the man. Macy stayed where she crouched, aimed carefully and fired. As the wolf dropped to the ground, the other two took off without looking back. The stranger swiftly pulled his pistol, whirled, and locked eyes with her.
She knew him! In that instant, Macy could only remain frozen in place, stunned, held captive by the intensity of the contact. An inexplicable sense of panic rushed over her, and she broke away, running for her truck.
McCann recognized those blue eyes. He had seen them before in the back of Graham’s truck last fall. He wasted no time running after the girl; he jumped over the side gate and ran around the front in hopes of intercepting her in the road.
Just as he crossed to the neighboring house, another shot rang out behind him.
“Hey! Stop shooting at me, dammit,” he yelled. He wasn’t sure where she hid. He stopped in his tracks, with his hands up, pointing his pistol high into the air. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he yelled out, hoping she would come out of hiding.
“Where’s Graham?” Macy demanded. He heard a tremor in her voice, one she probably hated. A girl who could take out a lunging wolf with one shot was no coward, and a damn good shot, too. But scared and armed was not a good combination. He didn’t feel like getting shot today.
“He’s fine. He was attacked by some wild dogs.”
“You’re not telling me where he is,” Macy said, even more frightened, and chanced another shot at a safe distance from him as a warning, “I will shoot you next.”
McCann flinched. “Knock it off, God dammit! I’ve had enough of this shit.” He could now see a pickup truck parked at the post office, and he suspected that she was going to make a run for it. Just then Macy’s radio crackled to life, giving her position away. “Macy, are you okay?” came a female voice.
The sound of the radio tipped him off to her exact location. He ran to the edge of the post office and got down low and holstered his pistol. She bolted from a neighboring yard toward the truck and McCann took off running after her.
Though she sprinted fast with him on her heels, McCann knew he would catch her if she stopped to open the truck’s door, but to his surprise, she right raced past the truck. He could barely keep up. He was exhausted from fighting off the wolves earlier and taking care of Graham all night, not to mention the alarm waking him after he’d caught only a few minutes’ sleep. “Stop running!” he yelled in frustration, but she wasn’t stopping. He had to get this chase over with and, using what little energy reserves he still had in him, kicked his pace into a last surge of high gear. He aimed for her legs, diving down onto her. She slammed into the hard icy road, hands first, and as she sprawled, her gun skidded off a few feet in front of her.
Macy tried to wiggle out of his grasp to reach for her weapon, but even as tired as he was he managed to hold her. She began kicking and punching the hell out of him, but he flipped her over and grabbed her around the left thigh, hauling her body beneath his. She continued to struggle with every ounce of strength she had.
“Get off me!” Macy yelled.
McCann tucked his head down and let her continue the assault while he laid his entire weight onto her. When he’d had enough of the abuse, he took both of her arms and shoved them down against the cold, hard ice. “Not until you calm down!” he said.
With her breath coming in rasping gasps, Macy glared at him and tried to buck him off, but he held tight.
She raised her head in an attempt to bite him.
“Don’t you dare!” he warned her. “I’m too tired for this shit.”
“What have you done to Graham?” she spat, venom flaring in her eyes as she fought and tried to catch her breath.
McCann remembered those blue eyes as curious, interested, and warm, and he wished she wasn’t so pissed off right now. She was a little bit of a thing, yet she fought like a demented giant. “I told you, he’s fine.
If you’d listened to me the first time, you’d be with him by now.” He couldn’t help but grin.
She didn’t seem to think it was funny. “I don’t trust you.”
“I can see that,” he conceded, and waited until he felt her body relax beneath him. “I’ll take you to him, but you have to promise me you won’t shoot me, bite me, or run from me again.”
“I will promise no such thing,” she said, glaring at him again.
“Hey, I’ve got all day, missy, though I’m tired as hell because I’ve been up all night. You, on the other hand, will freeze your ass off lying here on the ground with me sleeping on top of you. It’s your choice.”
Macy glared some more, those gorgeous blue eyes stormy and a bit confused, as she clearly pondered her options. To show her he meant what he said, McCann snuggled his head into her neck and let her feel his dead weight again.
“All right! Get off!”
“Promise?”
She nodded, muttering a resentful “I promise.”
He smiled again and got up quickly, grabbing Macy’s gun before she could. When she reached out to take the weapon from him, he shook his head and raised his eyebrows at her while holding the weapon up and away from her.
“I don’t think so. You shot at me. I’ll just hang onto this for now.”
“If I’d wanted to hit you, I would have,” she said. He turned her toward the house, pushing her ahead of him because he believed her. After seeing how she had dropped the wolf not three feet from him, he had no doubt she aimed straight.
“Just walk up ahead of me where I can keep an eye on you.”
The radio strapped to her belt crackled again with Tala’s now frantic voice. “Macy. Are you okay? Over.”
She stopped and turned to him, her eyes beseeching. No man in his right mind could refuse her. “I have to answer her. She’s scared.”
