by Kyle Pratt
“Yeah, Thanks, I’m fine.”
Caden opened the car door and the baby wailed. With a frustrated sigh he turned on the portable radio and scanned the NOAA weather frequencies. Over the cries of the baby he listened.
“…rain is out of the south and free of fallout…”
Winds out of the south were safe now that they were west of Atlanta. Once again he had been lucky, or blessed. He struggled to safely strap the baby in. He had no car seat so he tried wrapping blankets around the child and the seatbelt.
He turned on his car radio. “…other news, Homeland Security, working with the Nuclear Regulatory Commission and the International Atomic Energy Agency has identified the plutonium used in the bombs as from a North Korean reactor. The New York Times reports that President Durant is meeting with senior military advisors. Repeating our weather news the rain is out of the south…”
He sat back in his seat, finally satisfied that he had done his best to secure the child for the trip. The raindrops that gently tapped against the windshield were just water—no fallout. He and the baby would live another day, but America was dying one body blow at a time and perhaps tonight, like a wounded warrior, she would lash out at those who had hurt her.
Caden pulled the pistol from his pocket and set it on the floor behind him. He turned on the windshield wipers. While he waited for the convoy to move on he looked through the wallet. There was over a hundred dollars in cash. “Well, young man, you have a college fund.” The Driver’s license had an Atlanta address. He flipped past it to a photo of the baby. There was writing on the back. He looked over at the baby, “So little guy, your name is Adam.”
* * *
Floodlights illuminated the predawn darkness as he approached the main gate of Fort Rucker. Even at this early hour people streamed in. Guards stopped Caden moments after the convoy passed through the gate. They ordered him to park his vehicle in the sprawling civilian camp. He looked at Adam, sleeping peacefully in the passenger seat, and decided not to protest. He would get a couple hours sleep, turn the child over to the proper authorities and be on his way to Washington state in the afternoon.
As Caden drove across the main compound, he passed dozens of tents and several buildings being remodeled. Floodlights bathed them and, even at this hour, workers climbed scaffolding and dashed about like so many ants. Ambulances pushed through the crowded street toward the hospital ahead. As Caden continued along, several helicopters, with red crosses emblazoned on the side, landed in a nearby parking lot and off-loaded patients.
Caden parked near a small grove of trees at the edge of the base, away from most of the other refugees. Looking in the baby bag he found formula and disposable diapers. “Even during the madness and chaos your mother was trying to care for you.” He sighed. “I guess that is all any of us can do—try.” He fed and changed Adam. When the baby was wrapped in blankets and resting comfortably beside him Caden leaned his seat back as far as it would go and covered himself with a blanket. “Goodnight Adam.” He shut his eyes.
The baby cried.
* * *
Caden yawned as he climbed the stairs of the base hospital. Every muscle in his body ached. But then, yesterday in the convenience store parking lot, he had been hit by a car and for the last three days he had slept in one. He looked at Adam cradled in his arms and with a tired grin said, “And you didn’t let me sleep much at all.”
Reaching the top step, he stared out a window in frustration. Acres of what had been green grass along one side of the runway was now a vast sea of tents, trailers, cars, vans, people and mud sprinkled with tiny patches of green. The congestion, mud and filth, brought back memories of camps in Iraq and Kosovo.
The lights flickered and went out as Caden pushed open the door. His gut tightened.
The room took on a dark, oppressive aura. Windows along one wall provided the only light for the large, open ward. Patients were packed into every available space on beds, cots, gurneys and mattresses on the floor.
Hardly breathing, he weaved his way across the room toward a doctor. His stomach churned with irrational fear.
The lights snapped back on. Caden took a deep breath. For over a year after his return from Iraq he flinched at the sound of a gunshot and his stomach knotted. How long, he wondered, would lights blinking out cause that same reaction.
As Caden approached, the doctor glanced up from a badly burned woman and demanded, “What?”
He quickly explained.
Bent over his patient, the doctor asked, “Is the baby sick?”
“No.” Caden tried not to stare at the woman lying between them.
“Injured?”
“No.”
He straightened up, rubbed his back and while writing notes on a clipboard asked, “What do you want me to do?”
“Take him.”
He rubbed his face and eyes and for the first time looked at Caden. “I’ve got over six hundred patients sick, injured or dying. Right now I’m not doing well-baby care.”
“Where’s the child welfare office?”
The doctor shook his head.
* * *
Disposable diapers were impossible to find, but a friendly nurse gave Caden four cloth ones and a half-dozen safety pins. Back at his car, Caden looked at the material, looked at the pins and then at Adam. “So do you know how to do this?”
Adam, bundled in blankets and lying on the grass, giggled.
“Well, at least you’re not crying—yet.” From the trunk of his car he pulled out a camp lantern and stove. He lit the lantern and hung it from a tree on the passenger side of the car. A yellow glow pushed back on the darkness. He had no table so he set the stove on the ground near the lamp and warmed some stew. As he bent over the stove, he caught a glimpse of a slender figure dart, at the edge of the camp light. He moved so his back was to the car. He held up a can. “You like stew?” he asked the baby.
Adam cried softly.
“I really don’t care for it either.” In the shadows to his right leaves rustled. Caden’s heart raced, his senses on full alert. He knew the knot in his stomach was unreasonable, but such gut reactions had served him well in combat.
The child wailed.
Caden needed quiet so he could figure out who was moving in the darkness and why, but the child gave him none. He walked back to the car and casually slipped his hunting knife in his waistband. “Now little guy calm down,” Where’s my pistol? He remembered. It was behind the driver’s seat. He would either have to climb into the car from where he was on the passenger side or move to the dark side of the vehicle. No, I’m just being paranoid. Still, he sat facing where he had last heard the crackle of leaves and seen movement. He rocked the baby with one hand. “Now, now, everything will be alright.”
Adam’s wail softened to a whimper.
From behind, Caden heard the pump of a shotgun.
Chapter Five
How did they get behind me? He had last heard someone move through the leaves and branches to his right, but the pump of the shotgun came from behind.
“Turn around. Keep your hands where we can see them.”
Caden complied. Two men with stubble-covered faces stood before him wearing dirty, hunting camouflage and ball caps. The one on Caden’s left was about as tall as him, the other shorter. Both had beer bellies. They looked like good-old-boys in the bad sense of the phrase. One held a twelve gauge and the other a 270 hunting rifle with a scope.
His every muscle taut, and in a voice more confident than he felt, he asked, “What do you want?”
“Most everything you got, except the kid.” They both laughed. “Move away from the car and get on the ground.”
Caden was certain that if he obeyed he would never get up. He didn’t know what he would do, but he was sure he could do nothing on the ground. “No. Take what you want, but I’m standing.”
“Like hell you are!” The man with the 270 moved forward to Caden’s right.
Caden’s options were few. T
he baby was to his back, the car to his left and the crooks to his front and right.
“How about we just kill your kid?” Mister 270 pointed his rifle at the whimpering baby.
A gunshot tore through the camp.
Combat training kicked in. Caden jumped to his left, toward the robber with the shotgun. In one smooth motion, he pulled the knife from his waistband and plunged it into the man’s chest.
The man gasped. Disbelief etched his dying face.
Caden grabbed him intending to use his dead body as a shield, but there was no need. The other robber was on the ground in a growing pool of blood. Adam wailed, but he could see no injury.
Caden dropped the body he held.
At light’s edge stood a young woman with long dark hair. In her outstretched hands she held a pistol.
Caden knelt and pulled his knife from the body, uncertain of the girl’s intentions. Slowly he stood. His eyes were fixed on her, but her eyes, like her pistol, were fixed on the body that lay between them. “Ah—thank you,” he said.
She did not move.
“Are you alright?” He inched forward hand outstretched. “Give me the gun. Okay?”
Her eyes flashed wild and she jumped back pointing the pistol at Caden’s chest.
“Okay, okay, keep it,” he said stepping back, “but don’t aim it right at me.”
Very slowly she lowered it.
He stepped back. “My name is Caden.”
She nodded. Then moments later whispered, “Maria. My, my name is Maria.” She looked at the whimpering child on the ground. “They would have killed the baby.” Her eyes were full of fear as she looked at Caden. “They would have killed you.”
“Yes.” He set the bloody knife back on the dead man. “Thank you for saving my life.”
He considered what to do next. He felt they were justified in killing the two robbers, but still they had taken two lives. Someone had to be notified. He retrieved his cell phone from the car and was relieved to hear a dial tone. He knew only one phone number on base and called Lieutenant Turner.
While they waited he tried to find out more about Maria, but most of her responses were either yes or no. Within minutes, a jeep and a van arrived. Turner walked up to Caden as a tall officer spoke with Maria. As the man escorted Maria toward the van, Caden glimpsed the gold oak leaf insignia of a major. Caden started to follow.
“Please stay here, sir,” said one MP. “The Major would like to interview the young lady first.”
Caden leaned against his car and watched while the MP examined the area and took photographs.
“What do you know about this girl?” Turner asked as he joined Caden at the car.
“Her name is Maria and she’s a good shot.”
Turner chuckled. “Well, that’s two excellent things to know about a woman. Let me see what I can find out.”
Caden watched his friend walk toward the van. There his eyes shifted to Maria. She took Adam into her arms and leaned against the vehicle. She was out of earshot, but a tall man asked her questions. Her head cast down, she appeared to be focused on the baby. She wasn’t talking much, but her long black hair gently swayed as she nodded or shook her head. She looked younger than him, perhaps early-to-mid-twenties. Even in a faded denim jacket and worn jeans, she was pleasant on the eyes. He recalled she had the merest hint of a southern drawl. Despite her accent it was clear her roots were south of the border.
Turner stood quietly to one side of Maria while the tall officer continued the interview. It seemed the MPs were more interested in Maria than him.
A medic came and examined the two bodies then double timed off to the group around the van.
Maria’s head was cast down, but she did seem to be answering a few more of the major’s questions. After a minute of staring at her and trying to figure out what she was saying, she seemed to pause and shudder. Turner called and someone came with a jacket. Caden shivered. Is it cold or are we both going into shock? He had no answer, but he pulled a coat from the car and, returning to the hood, put it on.
After what seemed like hours, Turner and the major walked over to Caden.
Turner introduced the senior officer who quickly asked. “Where were you when you first saw the two men?”
Caden moved to the spot.
“Tell me what happened,”
Caden looked back at Maria as she sat in the police van holding Adam. She had saved his life. He wanted to help her if he could. He thought about telling a version of the story where he shot one man and knifed the other. “Ah….” he sputtered as he determined how to spin his yarn.
Turner coughed, pointed to the bodies and asked, “Are these the men who killed Maria’s parents?”
The Major gave Turner a harsh glance. “Yes. These are the suspects,” he said flatly.
The news hit Caden like a fist as he stared at the two bodies. That was why the Major had been so interested in her, why they had questioned her first and for so long. These guys murdered Maria’s parents. While the men hunted Caden, she hunted them. Caden knew the two men would have killed him, but now the realization hit him with new force. He owed her his life. Emphasizing how she had saved him, he told the major what had happened.
“Lieutenant Turner tells me you were with Special Forces.”
Caden nodded.
The major looked down at the man Caden had killed and bit his lip. After several moments, a slight smile came to his face. “We’ll need the pistol and the knife.” He looked Caden in the eye. “I won’t ask if you have any other weapons.”
“Thank you.”
Four medics arrived with stretchers and body bags. The major nodded to them. Turning back to Caden he said, “Normally, we would jail both of you until the investigation was complete, but these times aren’t normal.” He sighed. “And considering all the chaos and crime right now, I’ve got better things to do than lock you two up and I don’t have a facility for the kid.” He looked slowly around the campsite. “Look, I believe both of you.” Glancing at the medics as they hauled the bodies away, he shook his head adding, “And they needed killing.” The Major stared at Caden. “We have to investigate. Can I trust you to stay on base until this matter is cleared up?”
“Yes, sir.” Caden frowned. Now it would be days or perhaps even weeks before he could continue his journey home.
After everyone left, Maria sat near the campfire, cradling Adam in her arms. Caden walked up to her.
She pulled the baby in against her chest.
“Do you have a campsite, a place to sleep?”
She shook her head.
Caden slid down against his car. “I have blankets and a sleeping bag. You can stay here if you like.”
She nodded. “Thanks.”
Caden fixed his gaze on the young woman. She rocked Adam back and forth while staring at the fire. He expected tears from her, but there were none. Had the tears for her parents already come and gone or were they yet to flow?
He remembered the first person he had killed up close. When the fight was over and the squad back at base camp, he trembled. Tears welled in his eyes, but he wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t sad. He was a soldier and had done his duty. He held his emotions in check that night for fear of what his comrades would say, but the face, the eyes, of the man he killed still haunted his memory.
Caden sighed and stared at the ground for several moments, then looked across at Maria and the baby. She held Adam close but gently with experienced ease. Anyone might mistake them for mother and child. Thoughts turned to his own mother and father. He should call home. He imagined how the conversation would go. Hi Mom. How are you doing? Good. And the rest of the family? That’s good news. Where am I? Fort Rucker in Alabama. Yes, I was on my way home, but now I’ve got to wait for a few days. Why? Well I was just interviewed by the military police because I killed a man. Calm down, no, I’m fine. You see Maria…. Who’s Maria? We met a couple of hours ago—at the robbery. She shot one guy, because he was going to hurt Adam, and that
gave me the chance to knife the other one. Who’s Adam? Oh, he’s the baby…. Maybe it would be better to call home later.
Caden looked to the lights of the main camp. He had chosen this isolated spot to be away from people and that had nearly cost him his life. He looked to his right at the dark patch of blood stained earth. He was certain the old nightmares would return that night. If they stayed neither of them would get much sleep. “Maria, we should move.”
* * *
Caden sat under the canopy Maria had created to shade Adam. Somehow, in the three days they had been there she had acquired a variety of rope, string, a tarp and two wooden poles necessary to build it. They had both done well to get this far. I guess I’m a survivor. He pondered the thought for a moment and concluded that he was right. He had skills and he used them to find solutions that allowed him to live.
Maria had gone with Adam to the market area. He found it pleasant to lean against the car in the shade of the awning while reading a three-day-old edition of the “Montgomery Advertiser.” The day after the shooting, the radio briefly reported the capture of terrorists with a nuclear bomb in New York City, but the article in the paper gave a detailed account of the cooperation between the FBI and Homeland Security. At last a victory. But the delight he felt at the news was squelched when he read a nuclear bomb had exploded four days ago near the naval base in San Diego. Five cities, hit by nuclear bombs. All those people dead or dying. He shuddered and tried to put the horror from his mind and wondered why no action had been taken against North Korea. They had provided the uranium used in two of the bombs.
He flipped the page and was surprised to see an interview with Senator Cole of Montana. He’s alive? Skimming the article he learned the senator remained out west with his wife for the birth of the third child. Caden grinned. That is going to be one spoiled kid.
A glance at his watch reminded him of the appointment with the military police. Hopefully I can resume the drive home tomorrow morning. He looked about at the tightly-packed campsites. How will I get my car out of here? Out of the corner of his eye he saw Maria approach with Adam. Caden was about to put down the paper when Maria stopped and talked with Debbie Miller in the next campsite. The Millers were nice people and he hoped they would survive, but he wondered. Maria, on the other, was a survivor in her own way. Perhaps that is why I’m so attracted to her. He set down the paper as Maria strolled up to the car.
