“Anybody home,” Jack called out, breaking the stillness.
Another tense moment of gentile silence gave way to the chatter of birds enjoying a carefree afternoon.
“Let’s check it out,” Jack said.
TWENTY-EIGHT
The lock was rusty from years of exposure. Three good bashes from the butt of Mason’s combat knife knocked the shackle from the weathered wood. Tony stood with his weapon ready, pointing at the door. Mason pulled the door open as Tony moved in. Light slivered in through small gaps in the boards that made up the walls of the shack. Disturbed dust floated through the air turning the light into hard rays that bounced against the opposite wall. The plywood floor creaked underneath Tony’s feet. The space measured about twelve by ten feet with the door on the long end. A heavy workbench sat at the far end of the room opposite the door. An array of excavation tools hung from a rack on the back wall containing two shovels, a pickaxe a woodsman’s axe, an oxidized machete as well as various hammers and tools. There was a dusty smell to the place but not a moldy one. Tony assumed that the floor was raised up on pallets or water resistant wood, to keep out the dampness during the rain. Two plastic milk crates on the floor held various rags and a pair of safety goggles. Mason appeared at the entrance with his motorcycle. He rolled it in, backwards so that the front end pointed towards the door.
“No need to let anyone know we’re here,” he said.
Tony stepped outside to get his bike. Nikki’s head poked around the corner looking in. Tony saw Veronica removing her backpack. She rotated her neck, stretching to relieve her tension. She looked down the road, back towards camp. She seemed to be deep in thought. Tony wheeled his bike towards the shack, stopping he asked,
“Doing all right?”
Turning, she exhaled loudly as if to say, Hell no.
“I think we need to talk about what we all just witnessed,” Veronica said as she paced about in the middle of the shack. She was the only one standing. Nikki sat unencumbered on the workbench next to a pile of riding gear that she had removed from her person. Tony sat on an overturned milk crate next to Jack, who was leaning on his motorcycle seat. They all gave their attention to Veronica.
“I’ve been thinking and the most likely reason for those people’s behavior is a disease,” she continued. “It must be transferred in the blood, by exposure from a bite. The woman I treated had a fever that climbed faster than anything I’ve ever read about. Now that to me says disease. Some pathogen from the teen infected her.”
“Are you sure she was dead?” Nikki asked slowly, almost struggling to get the words out. Veronica understood Nikki’s disbelief and moved close to her.
“Nik, I am positive,” she assured. “She was gone. I felt no heartbeat and her breathing stopped. I did compressions but decided against mouth to mouth because I didn’t have a micro-mask for protection. I guess I suspected somehow that she was infected.”
“I had that feeling too, but what kind of bug makes people want to chew on each other?” Jack questioned thinking about the man who tried to growl through the hole in his neck.
Veronica turned to Jack with a weary look.
“Nothing; I mean I’ve no idea. Something no one has ever seen before,” she said leaning her tired body against the workbench.
“I hit that dude right in the heart,” Tony said, a touch of guilt in his voice. “When you get hit in the heart, your body shuts off, but he kept moving. And then the thing with the head,” Tony lifted his hands in defense as if to say that he had enough.
“Yes, there was something else I noticed that was odd,” Veronica said standing once again. “When you shot him, there was very little blood, granted his heart was most likely destroyed, so that makes sense, but the woman; she hardly bled at all from a head wound. There should have been more internal pressure, especially from the exit wound.”
Veronica appeared to be thinking. She walked in silence, looking at the floor. Nikki lifted her tired head back and leaned it on the wall. Tony wanted to say something nice to Nikki but hesitated. Jack watched Veronica pace. He liked the thoroughness of her thinking. She spoke.
“Those people are dead,” she said causing a jolt of adrenalin to fire inside Nikki’s body. “They have no blood pressure so no heartbeat. That is why shooting one in the heart has little effect. However, sever or destroy the head and they stop. But what in God’s name could do such a thing?”
“A chemical weapon?” Jack suggested.
Veronica considered for a moment.
“Those take effect on exposure by eating, drinking or breathing, not a bite. A biological weapon might be more likely but I really don’t know.”
She paced back to the workbench. Opening up a backpack she fished out a bottle of water. Noticing the pale look on Nikki’s face she offered the bottle to the young blonde. Nikki accepted it with only a nod.
“A bite is skin contact,” Tony said.
Veronica shrugged.
“Yes, however that says to me infection, something along the lines of a disease. The woman was bitten by a carrier and became sick herself. If it were a chemical weapon why use it out up here, and who would want to?” she questioned, brushing her long hair away from her face.
“The government could be behind it,” Jack said with a stern look, “They don’t give a damn about anyone.”
Veronica thought about the care her father had received compliments of the U.S. Army and felt a shudder. She gave Jack a knowing look of agreement.
Tony looked to Nikki, who seemed distant. The girl’s been though a lot, he thought. He wished he could get up and reassure her that the worst was over. He wished he could reassure himself. Then his eyes fell to underneath the workbench. He saw a shape hanging from two hooks under the table; the unmistakable shape of a wepon.
“Wait a second …” Tony said approaching Nikki low. She reacted and withdrew her legs up onto the workbench. Crouched, Tony reached in underneath Nikki’s butt, making her feel very vulnerable. She relaxed once she saw him produce an old shotgun. Jack sprung to his feet and moved close for a better look. It was a single shot .410 gauge shotgun. A very small model with a thin barrel; the .410 was the kind of weapon a kid might get as their first gun. Tony broke open the breach to find the weapon unloaded. It was dirty but not rusty. Tony brushed away some of the dirt and found that it was only dust clinging to its well-oiled surface. The men huddled over the weapon like mothers over a newborn child.
“A squirrel gun,” Tony said. A small smile formed on Nikki’s face as she saw the glee shared by the two men. Boys, she thought.
“Look for shells,” Jack said.
For the next few moments the men searched the shack. Jack found an old red metal toolbox. Within he found a clear plastic bag, browned with age. Inside he could see a number of small shotgun rounds. Forgetting the other items in the toolbox he turned and held them up to show Tony.
“Got it,” he said.
The decayed plastic bag disintegrated, dropping shells on the plywood floor. They rolled around in various circular paths. Both men scrambled and retrieved the shells. Veronica raised an eyebrow to Nikki while avoiding the rounds with her feet. She leaned again on the bench and drank some much needed water. Nikki, burdened by her fears, had forgotten about the water that Veronica had handed her. The shock of the day was wearing off a little and she realized that she was thirsty. She drank half the bottle in a single sip.
Nine green shotgun shells stood on their ends on a small corner of the workbench. Jack thought that there was something strange about the shells. They lacked a brand name printed on the side as he was accustomed to seeing. He picked up a shell and examined it closely.
“Are these home loads?” he asked himself.
“What kind?” Tony asked concerned. Jack thumbed at the top of the shotgun shell. The plastic crimping that held back the load opened easily. A small paper wad stood at the top of the shell. Removing the wad, he was disheartened to find the shell packed with a chunky w
hite substance.
“Rock salt,” Jack said disappointed. “They’re home loads of rock salt.”
“What does that mean?” Veronica asked moving close to Jack. He put the round down on the workbench in disappointment.
“Instead of loading lead or steel ball bearings, you pack the shell with rock salt. It won’t kill someone but it stings like hell. They’re meant to scare people off,” he explained as he moved back to his motorcycle.
Tony looked around the workbench. He smiled at Nikki quickly and began searching the toolbox. Screwdrivers, wrenches, and other tools one would expect to find within a toolbox were present. He found a metal container of nuts and bolts and another with assorted nails underneath the tool tray. He thought for a moment removing the nails and setting them aside.
“We can reload scrap into the shells,” Tony said. Jack agreed with a nod. Veronica looked at Tony.
“We dump out the salt and fill it with nails and bolts. They won’t be as powerful as a real shell, but they’ll work,” Tony elaborated for her.
Jack removed the gas cap from Tony’s motorcycle. He looked in the tank, smelling the strangely pleasing odor of petroleum. There was close to half a tank remaining. Replacing the cap and looking at the semi opaque tank on his bike, he could tell that he had over three quarters of a tank left. This worried Jack.
“Did you have a full tank when we left?” Jack asked.
Tony turned from his searching and looked at Jack.
“Yeah, topped off before we left home.”
Jack leaned against his bike and exhaled. He knew what was wrong. Tony’s bike was twenty years old. It was heavy, over burdened by two riders and a backpack full of water. Mason’s bike was two years old made from modern alloys with far better fuel efficiency. The lack of gas could be a problem.
“You’re down to half a tank,” Jack said. Shifting his gaze to Nikki he asked,
“How far is it back to town?”
Nikki finished the last of her water and looked at Jack not realizing that she had been asked a question; after a moment, it registered.
“Um, I dunno, we have to go pretty high up then back down. I have never been this way before,” she said sorry for not having a better answer. Both men seemed very concerned.
“Why?” she asked realizing that she had to pee. Jack began.
“We’ve been riding for, what, an hour, maybe more. That means that Tony’s bike has another hour worth of gas in it. If we can get to the top before then, he can coast down but if it’s more than that,” Jack shrugged and looked away.
“We end up walking,” Tony finished for him.
“Then we walk,” Veronica said, “We keep moving. Jack can go ahead on his bike and get help if it comes to that, but we keep moving.”
Jack liked the cut of her jib. He smiled at Veronica and nodded. The idea of walking frightened Nikki. She feared becoming lost in an unfamiliar forest at night. Her growing apprehension at such a possibility increased the pressure on her bladder. She slipped her legs down off the workbench, stood and looked at Veronica.
“Wanna go outside for a minute?” Nikki asked.
Veronica made a questioning face. Nikki mouthed the words, “I gotta pee,” and Veronica understood.
“We’re going out for a moment,” Veronica said leading Nikki towards the door.
“Wait,” Jack said, “Have you ever fired a gun?”
Veronica stopped in front of Jack, a half smile on her face.
“Yes. A thirty-eight caliber, Smith and Wesson, Bodyguard; My father’s gun” she answered hoping that she recited the gun’s name correctly.
Jack smiled. Oh yeah, he thought, this chick’s cool.
“Let her borrow your gun, man,” he said to Tony. Tony looked at his gun as if he were going to miss it but agreed with Jack. He un-holstered the weapon, checked the safety and handed it to her. Veronica accepted the small pistol and held it with her finger off the trigger, pointing forward down the barrel.
“Thanks,” she said to Jack. The two girls left the shack.
“Where’re they going?” Tony inquired. Jack rolled his eyes.
TWENTY-NINE
Veronica led the way to a thicket of trees twenty yards behind the shack.
“Over here,” she whispered to Nikki
“Let’s go a little farther, this is kinda embarrassing.”
They walked deeper into the woods.
“Can I ask you something?” Nikki asked with hesitation.
“Sure.”
“Well, you don’t seem very scared.”
Veronica paused. Nikki stopped and looked at her. She wanted to know how Veronica did it. How she seemed so cool under pressure. What Nikki really wanted was to tell someone that she was frightened out of her mind. She was too embarrassed to mention her fear to the men. She just kept quiet around the boys and listened; it was all she could do to keep from shutting down. She could pretend while they were around but out here in the quiet woods, she suddenly felt like talking.
“Nik, I’m scared,” Veronica said to Nikki with eyes that flashed a terrible honesty. “I’m terrified that I don’t know what’s goin’ on,” she said vulnerable now for the first time.
“But you’re dealing with everything so well, like the boys are. You blinded that lady with the paint thing while I just stood there. I couldn’t move. It was like it was happening to someone else and I was just watching.” Nikki began to breathe deeper with the release of her fears. Veronica put her arms around the frightened girl.
“You were in shock, it s to be expected. People respond to extreme situations differently.” She held Nikki for a moment and heard her sniffle. Veronica worried that the young woman might start to lose her mind. She had to help the poor girl. Her human compassion needed her to help Nikki.
“The more you experience stressful situations, the easier it is to keep your head in the moment,” Veronica said letting her go. Nikki had a tear in her eye but she was listening. Good, Veronica thought, I’m getting through to her.
“I’ve seen some rather horrible things. You just have to take a deep breath and tell yourself; this is happening, I have to deal with it.”
“What’re you talking about, horrible things, how could anything be more horrible than today?” Nikki said frustrated.
“Did you ever hear about the earthquake in San Francisco back in 1989?”
“Yeah, the bridge collapsed, I saw it on T.V.”
“A lot of things collapsed,” Veronica said with sadness. She leaned up against a tree, her body suddenly feeling very heavy. Nikki looked at her noticing how she had seemed to change. The tall strong Veronica, who had snapped into action to help the bitten woman, then later had the forethought to blind the thing with a paint gun, now seemed vulnerable. She appeared hesitant, as if she were confessing some long hidden secret. Nikki decided to give her some privacy. The pressure in her bladder was enormous. She found a small bush, still within earshot and prepared to pee. Veronica appreciated the moment. She looked out over the woods away from Nikki and continued.
“My dad and I were on our way to a baseball game; the World Series,” Veronica suppressed a laugh. “The ground shook violently. We found ourselves near a collapsed freeway. My dad was a surgeon so we parked. My dad wanted to go into the smashed rubble and put himself at risk. He wanted to leave me in the car while he pulled people out. I begged him not to go.”
Nikki, enthralled by the story, finished and buttoned up her pants. She had an uncomfortable urge to flush something. She kicked a few leaves over the puddle and walked back to Veronica.
“I could tell that he really wanted to go in. He wanted to crawl around the burning wrecks and save as many people as he could. That was the kind of a man he was. But I begged him not to. He was all I had. My mother died when I was born. I didn’t want him to leave me too. What if there was an aftershock? He would’ve been trapped in there.”
Nikki looked at her with the understanding of a dear friend.
; “What happened?” she asked in a whisper.
“He decided not to go in; even though I know he wanted to. He stayed with me. Many people showed up, firemen, some police, and a number of civilians; just normal people who wanted to help. They started to bring the injured to us. My dad always carried a medical bag; a field kit, he called it. So we cleared out an area inside a carpet store and set up a triage.”
Veronica leaned up off the tree. She sat on the cool earth and continued.
“I was eleven years old, surrounded by bleeding patients. I knew most of my dad’s instruments. I assisted him. He asked for something, and I handed it to him. We clamped arteries with hemostats, cleaned lacerations with saline, packed gauze in open wounds, and prepared patients for the ambulances. It was a hell of a thing for an eleven year old to see.”
“My God, how’d you deal with that?” Nikki asked quietly. Veronica looked up at her with resolve. As she stood, she appeared to revert back into her composed persona.
“You set priorities, my dad would say. You figure out to the best of your abilities what needs to be done and you do it.” She put her hand on Nikki’s shoulder gently. “Right now we need to get out of here and let the police know what happened. If anything gets in our way, we deal with it. We just have to remain as calm as possible and keep our heads.”
Nikki looked very frightened. Veronica put her arms around the small young woman and remembered something her father said to her after the quake and the chaos.
“After it was over, my dad said that I’d been through something that would change me forever. Everything was different after the quake. I was different. He said that surviving the experience would make me stronger,” Veronica said in a trembling voice, holding back her tears as she spoke her father’s words. She squeezed Nikki tight while missing her late father.
Rise and Walk Page 13
