by A. R. Shaw
50
Bishop
“Let’s stop…take a break,” Bishop said. They were overdue anyway. He needed to check on the injured. Yeager was worse off than the others thought when they’d left in a rush. On the last break, he’d stood up, and all color had drained from his already pallid face as he collapsed to the ground.
“He’s lost too much blood,” Alyssa had said. “He might not make it.”
“Will you stop saying that?” Rebecca yelled at her. “Yeager never gave up on Walt. Not once. I can’t believe you!”
“I’m not—”
“Stop it! Both of you! No one is giving up on anyone.” Or so the conversation had gone.
“Bishop,” one of the guards said.
“Yeah…we have to stop now. Visibility is nearly nil. Look ahead at that ice cloud.”
When he did, it felt like the wind was knocked from his lungs. It was a storm within a storm, and they were headed right into it—or it was coming to get them like a predator. Either way, they needed to find shelter or at least circle up and bear the affects.
“Stop now. Shield yourselves and the kids. The storm is coming in now.” Bishop wanted nothing more than to haul ass back to the silo, but that wasn’t going to happen as quickly as he liked. Not right now and perhaps not for another day or more. Yeager, Walt, and the boy within his own coat were all too weak to go at the pace he wanted to travel. The relentless drive he felt to return to Maeve had become a selfish gnawing within his gut. Something was wrong back there. There were no status checks now. That was easily explained, but…he knew it was more. A black plague of fear welled within him. And yet, nothing would move fast enough. He couldn’t risk those in his care. Not for a feeling…not even for love.
51
Maeve
With her right hand pressed to the cold concrete wall, Maeve slid along the corridor, blind as night in the pitch dark. She saw nothing at all with her wide-open eyes, but she could hear cries for help, sounds of confusion, and running as she went.
“Mom!” a child yelled in the distance. It wasn’t her son. The voice belonged not to Luna or Ben.
Then, when rapid gunfire sounded, she crouched down low, her heart pounding. She held her Glock in her left hand. Her mission was not to get to Donovan and the rest below. It was to get to her children and barricade the door to their apartment. The rest would sort itself out when Bishop returned.
A flashlight blinked on at the very end of the hallway. It bobbed up and down as the person wearing the headlamp came running toward her. Shielding her eyes from the light, she gripped the handle of her Glock and raised it, not knowing who was coming at her. When it was too late, she recognized Donovan by his gait and footfalls. The light cascaded down on her, and though she couldn’t see much of his face, she saw that he was smiling.
52
Jax
Atop the horse, Jax and Saul watched as the last snowmobile faded into the snowy horizon. As if he were drifting into a frozen fog, the last rider simply blipped out of existence and was gone from view entirely. They couldn’t even hear the motors over the blowing wind that swirled unconscious snow along its pathway.
No one said a thing for a while. The five horses were loaded down with men and supplies. Every skin surface was covered with something to keep it from freezing over. Then Saul commented, “I cannot believe you’re bringing along that cat.”
Jax noticed Jet’s long tail sticking out of the backpack. He stuffed it back inside and felt Jet turning around inside, he presumed to get more comfortable. “Yeah, well, as long as he’s not bothering anything.”
Jax led, keeping a slow and even pace, and the others followed. There was no making the horses go at a fast pace, not in these conditions. Probably not again in their lifetime. Instead, they’d move from shelter to shelter in hopes they could take a few days at a time to let the horses rest and recover.
Even though he said they’d follow Austin’s tracks, they all knew better. They all knew those tracks would fill in and blow away long before they’d see them. He doubted they’d make it to the silo with the rest. He knew that it was very unlikely.
53
Bishop
What felt like an eternity was only two days. That’s how long Bishop and team were circled up against the ice storm. He’d sent three men out ahead to see if there was a way out of the storm going straight south, southwest, or southeast. Only two came back, and they said no. Traveling in the ice storm was against any advice. Ice covered the ground and traveling over sharp stuff was dangerous beyond measure.
They never heard back from the third man, the one who’d gone southeast. Bishop imagined that he’d met peril somehow, crashing, perhaps, with no one to help him. It was easy to do, being alone, and though he’d thought about sending a team to look for him, he didn’t want to risk another soul…not more than he had to. They knew the dangers, and they’d volunteered to go. The two drivers who did return volunteered to go out looking for the man, but Bishop refused. Tension built with the camp, but they all knew that they had to preserve as much as they could, and sending two men out would most likely have risked them, as well.
“We’re all damned,” Bishop heard Walt mumble. He’d done that a lot lately. Every time Bishop walked by his makeshift cot, the man was wide-awake with wild, crazy eyes, and he was muttering that phrase. He was either asleep or in a waking nightmare. He’d even stare at Alyssa off and on, not believing his eyes and occasionally asking her to get the boys dressed. His fever wasn’t responding to the meds he was given. Even though they had given him every possible care, Bishop was afraid that Walt was too far-gone. Only time would tell.
At the same time, Bishop felt tension building over the tether to the silo that he held tightly. It seemed stressed to him. He needed to get a hold of her, but every time he sent a text, there was no reply.
“Bishop?” Alyssa said.
“Yeah?”
“Walt’s having a seizure, and the boy…the last one you brought out…his arm. Usually the fingers drop off at the line of demarcation in frostbite.” She shook her head. “We’re going to have to do it ourselves. There are signs of infection, and he’s starting to run a fever. They didn’t have sanitary conditions in there to begin with. There’s no telling what he’s fighting. It’s best we remove his entire hand.”
“Wait…what about Yeager? Is he going to be okay?”
“He’s just lost a lot of blood, and bites are nasty. I don’t know. I don’t have equipment to make further tests.”
He nodded. “Okay, but about the boy. Do we have to take the whole hand? Can’t we just remove the fingers?”
This time, she shook her head. “We can try that first. But with infection, you don’t want to mess around.”
“Will it buy him some time to get to the silo? We can make a better decision then. Only remove what you have to. Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because there was apparently no problem taking off Walt’s whole foot, but when it comes to this kid’s hand, you only want to do the minimum.”
“Alyssa, I’m sure Yeager did what was needed at the time. You saw that place. He barely had any resources to do anything in there. Hell, I’m not even sure what he used to saw through the bone.”
They both turned when Rebecca spoke up. “He used part of the plane’s fuselage. He broke it off and heated it…hammered it at night when he thought we couldn’t hear him or didn’t know what he was doing it for. We did everything we could for Walt. Don’t ever say we didn’t.” Tears streamed down Rebecca’s face as she spoke in anger.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“I don’t give a damn if you’re sorry,” Rebecca said, turning back to the other side of their makeshift shelter.
Alyssa wiped away her own tears.
Bishop whispered, “You have to try to remember that they’ve gone through hell, and they’re lucky to be alive, Alyssa. Don’t condemn them for their decisions. Walt’s alive. They could have let
him go. And after seeing him myself…I think I might have. It may have been kinder to do so.” He walked away then, letting her stand alone.
54
Maeve
Cold…so cold, Maeve woke up shivering and in complete darkness. Her head pounded where Donovan had whacked her skull. Worse than freezing in utter blackness, she was bound. Her numb hands were tied behind her back. Her ankles were bound together, and her mouth was gagged. She lay on something thin but soft.
I must be in one of the cells, she thought. Listening, she heard nothing at all. Not the mechanics of the silo as she’d heard them while drifting off to sleep at night in her apartment above. Not water running in the pipes, not the generator’s hum…nothing. System still down.
The cot squeaked and gave as she rolled to the other side. Definitely the cell, she thought, making a mental map of where they’d kept Donovan. Cold seeped through her clothing as her arm contacted the cinder-block wall. Ben…the children, they must be scared to death.
Then, she remembered the shots down the corridor and thought, Oh, my God…where are Cassie and Morrow? What has he done with them?
55
Bishop
He couldn’t fault her. Alyssa had done what he’d asked and just taken the fingers off the boy’s left hand at the demarcation line. Bishop held the child through the night after the surgery. The boy, his little arm in a heap of bandages, needed to stay warm, and he only seemed comfortable with Bishop lying against him. When he woke up, he tore at the bindings.
“Leave them alone, little man,” Bishop said. “Your hand needs to heal.”
The boy nodded and fell back to sleep then. The weather broke, but they spent another day there to let the injured heal. Yeager seemed fine, just a little lethargic, if nothing else. He seemed to take count of the kids every time he woke up. It was habit, his head bobbing as he counted them all. He cast glances at Walt; they seemed to have an understanding between them, even though Walt was still delirious and dying, in Bishop’s opinion.
The following morning, they packed everyone up and headed out in the dim cold again, their snowmobiles and sleds grinding over ice this time. The need to leave was never stronger, and if they kept a steady pace, they might make it to the silo by nightfall. They were almost there…almost back to sanctuary.
56
Cassie and Maeve
“Should have cut his fricking throat when I had the chance!” Cassie said as she and Morrow edged down the hallway in the dark.
As soon as the lights went out, every hum in the underground building slowed and then stopped all together. Before, the residents had spoken casually, their voices just a little elevated to compensate for the noise. Now Cassie’s words came out louder than she’d intended. Adjusting to the new normal, Cassie whispered, “Where did he go?”
“I don’t know, but we have to find him before he does any more damage.”
That’s when they heard shouting on the next floor, footsteps running up the stairwell, and then the loud blast and bright, momentary flash of a rifle.
“They’ve got him,” Cassie said.
“We don’t know who’s got whom. Let’s take it slow,” Morrow said.
When they rounded the corner, there was a body lying in the way. Morrow opened his radio and shone the LED light down on the body. Dark blood seeped out onto the floor in a growing puddle. It wasn’t Donovan. Donovan was a larger man.
“It’s Fisher. Oh, damn,” Cassie said as she felt his neck for a pulse and found none.
“Come on. We have to get to Maeve before he does,” Morrow said.
Above them, more running footsteps. More shouting. Cassie watched as Morrow bolted ahead.
“Donovan!” she heard Morrow yell out.
“Morrow, wait!” Cassie cautioned. Then gunfire. When Cassie rounded the corner, her boot caught something slick on the ground, and she slipped. Quickly, she dove back around the corner. “Morrow?” she whispered loudly.
And then a bouncing light down the hallway caught her attention. Someone had a head lamp on. It came to a stop, finally, at the far end. It shone down on a form kneeling on the floor next to the wall. Her red hair was unmistakable. It was Maeve. Cassie held her gun out, but she knew she’d chance hitting Maeve if she fired. There was no clear shot. That’s when she saw Donovan bring his gun hand down swiftly across her skull.
Dammit, Cassie said to herself. There was nothing she could do now. Not while Donovan had her close by. “I need to wait. Have to catch him alone.”
Slinking back into the dark, Cassie decided to bide her time.
Scooting across the mattress, Maeve quietly stood up, though it hurt like hell to do so with her ankles bound. She leaned against the wall, following the line to the corner as she hobbled along. She wasn’t sure which of the three cells she was being held in, but she soon found herself at a locked door. Of course, it’s locked, you idiot.
Maeve heard wary footsteps.
“Hey, who’s there?” came Cassie’s whisper as a door clicked closed behind her.
“Cassie?” Maeve asked, her voice muffled by the gag.
“Yes, it’s me,” Cassie said, reaching through the bars to touch Maeve’s arm. “I’ve got the key. Stand back.”
Soon, Cassie freed Maeve from the cell as well as from her bindings. As she did, she said, “Donovan’s shut everything down. He shot Morrow. We got split up in all the confusion. I’m not sure where he is or if he’s alive. I hid and had to watch him attack you. I’m so sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner.”
“Where are my kids?”
Cassie shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s been hours. He’s already barricaded himself in the office. We tried everything. He’s already shot two of my guards in cold blood.”
Maeve looked at the younger woman, who was in turmoil. “I’m sure you’ve done all you can.”
“Maeve…he went into the nursery. He has some of the children as hostages.”
“Not my kids.”
“No, I don’t think so. I haven’t heard or seen them. I’m assuming they’re still in your apartment.”
Maeve nodded then. “What do we do? How do we take it back?”
“I…I don’t know. I have no doubt he’ll kill them one by one.”
“What does he want?”
“I don’t know that either. As far as I can tell, he’s still doing something in the main office. All the systems are down. It’s freezing down here.”
Shivering, Maeve said, “Yes, it is.”
“Do we have any safe rooms?”
“The greenhouse below. That’s where we put the children before. And that’s where I’m bringing anyone I find. They can bar the door from the inside. There’s food in there and supplies.”
“But no heat.”
“Dwindling heat and no lights. That means those plants will die soon. We have to do something quick.”
“I’m sorry, Cassie. My kids are my first priority. I have to find them.”
“But your apartment is the closest to the main office. They’re probably safe inside there on their own. We can’t risk going there ourselves.”
Maeve pressed her lips into a thin line. “You don’t have to come with me, but that’s where I’m going first.”
Breathing in deeply, Cassie agreed. She understood that Maeve was firm on that point.
57
Bishop
Holding his arm up for those who couldn’t hear him, Bishop halted the convoy. “We’re here.” He’d pushed them when he knew he shouldn’t have. Something continued to gnaw at him deep inside. “Have we heard anything from them?”
“No, not for days. But communication is down. They must have had that big storm as well. Doesn’t mean anything’s wrong in there.”
Under his breath, Bishop said, “The hell it don’t.” He knew better. “All the same, let me go in first. You guys hold back.”
They did. He went in from the side. His first thought confirmed his bad feeling: Cassie had no guards posted. T
hat’s when he changed his line of entry. He did not go to the main entrance but to the one Walt had shown him in the very beginning. Yeager was keeping track, apparently. Though weak, he, too, took up a helmet, and Bishop heard him inside of his head.
“What’s up?”
“No guards.”
“I’m on your right.”
“You’re not up for this, Garrett.”
“Who is?”
Nothing more was said between them after that commitment, and he was right. There was no way Cassie would let up on guard duty.
When they reached the secondary hatch, the one they’d used with Walt’s assistance when they broke in the first time, he knew they were going to be in trouble. Two guys walking into a trap, possibly. But they had to take that chance.
“What do you think? The guards took over? Morrow turned? Donovan?”
“My money’s on Morrow and Donovan teaming up. Cassie would never allow this.”
“Yeah, dammit…I knew something was wrong.”
Parking the snowmobiles, they both checked their weapons, and then Bishop asked, “You don’t have your little bag of tricks?”
“I’m all out of tricks but…I know where to find them.”
“Good. We’re going to need them.”
58
Maeve
Cassie held her rifle out in front of her as she and Maeve crept along the corridors, edging ever upward toward the next floor. “God, my head hurts,” Maeve said.
