by Nikki Landis
He lowered the gun and grinned. “How’s it going fellas?”
James, Richard, and Matthew recovered from their surprise and shook hands with Alec. These were his men. If anybody would help him, keep his appearance quiet, it was these three.
“What are you doing here Alec?” James asked.
“Haden is on the warpath. You better watch out,” Richard warned.
“I know. I don’t think he took it too kindly when I knocked him out,” Alec responded with a chuckle.
“Damn Alec, you shouldn’t have come back. Where’s Lizzie?” Matthew inquired.
“Still captured but I’m on my way to rescue her,” he sighed, “she wanted me to warn you all first, specifically the staff. The refugees are going to bomb the hospital tonight. In just a few hours.”
“Shit!” James sat down with a thud.
“How do you know Alec? Maybe your Intel is wrong,” Matthew doubted, shaking his head.
“It’s not. I trust the man with my life. He’s been collaborating with Lizzie. I have no doubt it will happen, and you need to be far away when it does.”
They took his words as truth. Alec watched their faces as they contemplated their move.
“Where should we go?” Richard asked.
He voiced aloud the question they all wanted to know.
“That’s up to each of you individually,” Alec answered, “but I’d like to offer a place at my side if any of you want to leave. There’s a freedom outside of the militia, a future, if you are brave enough to go after it.”
“I’m in,” James answered, no doubt on his face. “I’m sick of Haden.”
“Same,” Richard answered, “although I have to admit I’m not that confident.”
“I don’t know,” Matthew shook his head, running his fingers through his blond hair. “I need a minute.”
“I’d love to give you one, but that’s not possible. I have a wife to rescue and people to warn. You have to decide now,” Alec pressed.
He sighed. “Well, mate, I guess I’m in too.”
Alec grinned. “Disable those cameras and turn off all the surveillance. We don’t want to tip off Haden.”
Ten minutes later they were heading toward the hospital exit in search of Mal and Ballard. Although it was quiet, being after midnight, the rushing of several nurses and staff let Alec know that Mal had been successful. The lights flickered overhead, long beams of commercial bulbs burning out simultaneously, and then shining again. Something was happening. Were the bombers already here?
The automatic doors opened, letting in a blast of frigid air and a swirl of snowflakes. Alec’s gaze met the stare of the man who faced him, a cold calculating gleam in his eyes.
They were too late.
The sound of planes buzzed outside like the sound of a thousand bees flying together all at once.
A gun cocked and was pointed at his forehead.
Damn.
Haden.
Chapter Seven: Mal
Mal was frustrated. Not five minutes after they entered the hospital Alec insisted on going off alone to disable the cameras and security feed. He understood the need for caution, he just disagreed that Alec should go off on his own. It was dangerous enough without splitting up the group.
Mal shook his head and sighed, leading Ballard over to the elevator and up to the fifth floor.
“Want to explain how Alec is married to the woman you love?”
Not one for bull shit Ballard jumped right in to the conversation that Mal had been avoiding.
“Not really. It’s complicated,” he answered vaguely.
“I don’t take you for a coward or a fool son, so tell me what is going on,” he insisted.
Well, hell. “You know I said she was my wife when we came before to protect her.”
“Yes, and afterward?”
“Darren flogged her, I told you that. He tried to kill her a second time when she met with Alec for a supply run. She left with him that night to escape…to save her life…” He trailed off. This was painful enough but talking about it made it worse.
He frowned.
Ballard lay a hand on his shoulder. “And then she married him, right away, to be safe from Darren.”
“How did you…” Mal shook his head. “Yes, and I will never forgive myself for letting her go that night.”
Ballard seemed to think about his words. “You let her go with him and now you regret it.”
Ha, that was an understatement. It was the largest failure of his life. “You could say that.”
“Seems rather simple. Not complicated at all,” Ballard told him with a chuckle.
Mal scowled. “Laugh if you want to, but it hurts like hell.”
“Of course it does. You love her, and from what I gather, she loves you too.”
Mal arched an eyebrow. “What makes you think so?”
“I saw the way you two looked at each other. I knew you weren’t really married but from what I could tell, it looked like it was going to happen soon enough. There was no mistake in her eyes. She loves you Mal,” Ballard told him confidence.
That made it even worse. “Well, thanks, because she is married to Alec and none of that matters.”
“Trust me,” Ballard grinned, “it always matters.”
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
“You speak in riddles old man,” Mal told him, dismissing his words as the elevator opened. He knew Lizzie loved him. Just not enough. And the last thing he wanted to do was sit here and think about it.
The fifth floor of the hospital was quiet and empty. Mal approached the nurse’s station where Sarah was sure to be found before making her rounds. He knew Sarah from a few months back when he broke his arm. Not long after Lizzie took off on her little escapade.
He scowled again.
“You need laid,” Ballard pointed out the obvious, laughing with mirth.
“I’m wondering why I asked you on this little excursion,” he muttered under his breath. Yeah, he needed some female companionship. Unfortunately the only woman he wanted was taken.
Holy hell.
This night was going from bad to worse.
“Unless of course, the babe she is carrying is yours,” Ballard remarked casually.
That did it. He spun on Ballard and walked right up to him. “He’s not.” Mal’s hands clenched at his sides. He might have decked a lesser man for that implication and the dishonor it would bring on Lizzie.
“I see I struck a nerve. I apologize son, just trying to sort out the details,” he hid his laugh behind a cough.
“She was an innocent…until the night she wed,” he countered, flustered and agitated. Why the hell was this important right now?
Ballard pressed his lips together in a concentrated effort not to say anything else, which was good. Mal would probably lose his temper and regret it. He was nearly there.
“Hi Mal,” a soft female voice greeted as they approached the nurse’s station, “how are you?”
He made an effort to smile. “I’m fine but I’m not here for a visit. I need to talk to you.”
She gestured for him to come behind the desk and he sat facing her. Sarah was pretty, in a girl next door kind of way. Long blond hair, fair skin, brown eyes. Curvy, just the way Mal usually liked his women. The problem was not a single female ever compared to Lizzie.
Where this girl was fair, Lizzie was exotic and dark haired. Where Sarah’s eyes were also brown they lacked the extra depth and richness. Lizzie’s eyes had a doe like quality that drew you in. Where Sarah was curvy and heavy chested, Lizzie had an hour glass figure with a decent balance to her curves. Throw in Lizzie’s brilliant mind and sexy smile, and there was no comparison.
It always happened like this. He would try to check out other women, but they never passed a basic scrutiny. Lizzie was one in a million. In his lifetime, he would never find another like her.
Mal was not interested in finding anyone else. Lizzie was perfect. How did you move on fro
m perfect?
Sarah blushed and cleared her throat. She must have thought he was checking her out. Oops.
“There’s going to be a bombing tonight. You need to tell the other staff and make preparations. There isn’t much time. Save those that you can. I’m sorry to put you in this position but the terminal patients will have to be put on the bottom of your list.”
Mal awaited her reaction. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I would not waste your time unless I knew for certain.”
She stood, her hands trembling. “Thank you for telling me Mal.”
“Do you need any help?” He asked, realizing her task was not a small one.
“Yes, inform those in triage and in the extra beds. Some are asleep in the halls since we do not have enough rooms available. I will not be able to reach everyone,” she told him breathlessly.
“I will do the best that I can,” he promised.
Mal and Ballard spent the next fifteen minutes evacuating all patients that they could.
“I think we should take the stairs to the fourth floor and do the same until we reach the first floor. There’s not much time. Why don’t we split up and meet by the stairwell on the first floor before we meet Alec?”
Ballard agreed. Not much later Mal exited the first floor elevator and headed toward the emergency room double doors. The main hall was shaped like a cross and intersected in the middle. Mal was approaching from the right where he would turn and make another right to exit the building. Alec should be close by. The cameras had to be disabled by now.
Ballard met up with him as he approached the junction of the four hallways, and quickly shook his head, pointing to the right.
“What’s going on?” He asked.
“Alec is with three militia soldiers. I can’t tell if they are friendly or not, but the door just opened and General Haden is flanking us. We have to find another exit,” he told him in a rush.
“I’m not leaving Alec. Lizzie would never forgive me.”
“We aren’t. We are going to circle around and catch them by surprise. It’s our only chance.”
“Agreed.” Mal spun and ran back down the hall until they located an exit. It took an extra ten minutes. Once outside, they heard the loud hum and buzz of the bomber planes high up in the sky.
“Those aren’t refugee fighters,” Ballard pointed out.
“No, they are not.” Mal glanced at the dark sky, cloudy and full of smoky air. “They are militia planes…and they are headed this way.”
“Shit,” Ballard cursed and ran in to the trees and found the rest of his men. “We need to reach Alec now. There’s no time to lose.”
Mal and Ballard led the men around the far side of the hospital. Haden had a pistol aimed at Alec’s head, ready to pull the trigger. They were locked in some kind of argument or confrontation. Mal was not interested in the particulars, he only needed to make sure that Alec survived.
They charged, attacking the small group of soldiers that Haden brought with him. Mal was surprised when the three soldiers with Alec fought back, against their own militia. Haden was shot and in the shoulder and passed out, sometime during the fight. Mal wondered if it was a good idea to keep him alive. Haden was dangerous.
The sound of the planes grew louder as people began to run from the hospital at every exit. They helped to usher them away, leading people into the parking lot and toward the housing area of the base. With any luck, only the hospital was in danger from the bombers.
“I can’t leave these people to die. My conscience would never allow it. Go, rescue Lizzie, my men and I will stay and help those that we can,” Ballard offered.
“How do we find you?” Mal asked, concern for his friend making him hesitate.
“There’s a bunker. An old militia bunker, heavily fortified and abandoned. I’ve been meaning to relocate there. I’ve been watching the place. It’s been untouched throughout the war. If we make it, we will meet you there.” He gave the coordinates to Alec and Mal and headed toward the entrance, just as the first planes were spotted above.
Mal and Alec hopped in the car with the other soldiers close behind in an army jeep. They sped through the roads, speeding past the militia gates, eager to escape the carnage that was sure to follow. Mal refused to look back. His friend had just signed his own death warrant. As much as Ballard liked to joke around and tease Mal, he was a good man, and fine soldier. Mal’s throat tightened on him. He hoped he would survive.
His friend had given them a new base. A new place to start over for the refugee movement, away from Darren and his dictatorship, away from death and the hand of the militia. If this place was truly abandoned and forgotten, they would have a steady safe place to live. Lizzie would be able to have her baby without any worries.
Mal breathed a sigh of relief. He did not realize until this very moment, just how worried for her he had been. He glanced out the window, noticing the first pink color of dawn stretching across the horizon. By the time they reached Lizzie it would be morning.
Where was Darren’s group? If the militia was launching its own planes against the hospital, then where was Darren? What was happening? A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach made him grip the dash board. Lizzie was in danger. Alec had been right.
They needed to reach her, and fast.
Chapter Eight: Lizzie
The bombers knew their targets. I could tell by the way they fell in quick succession. Precise hits that caused massive destruction with explosions that sent aftershocks rumbling through the earth. The first one shook the walls of the room but didn’t do much else. The next one caused the whole floor I was on to shake, sending part of the ceiling to crumble on the ground and pieces of the wall to flake off. Picture frames fell and broke. A lamp shattered.
I hid in the corner of the room, trying to stay away from falling debris. I couldn’t run around eight months pregnant. I would only get injured. If only there was a large piece of furniture like a table to hide under, I might have done that, but there was only small pieces in the room. Light weight and easily broken.
The bombs fell for an hour, destroying much of the base. The air was full of smoke from drywall and broken concrete. I tied a rag around my nose and mouth, trying not to breathe it all in. I became blocked inside the room. The last bomb that fell must have been close. The doorway collapsed partially and the dresser fell over, cutting my leg with a large gash. There was no way I could move it. I was pinned.
I ripped a piece of sheet from the bed and tied it around my leg tight, stopping the bleeding as much as possible. It was several tries to reach enough bedding to tear. Cold started to seep in through the walls and underground. I shivered. The comforter was out of my reach. I was stuck without food or water. My leg began to throb.
Time ticked by and in the silence I became afraid. Terror of being buried alive filled me. No one was coming for me. I could die in here. Panic made my heart race. I needed water for me and the baby. I tried to move but the dresser had my leg pinned. It would not budge, even a little. The gash hurt but I ignored the pain. I was more concerned about survival. I concentrated on my breathing, slow and even.
I fell asleep in the eerie silence. I don’t know how long I was out but I awakened with a start to a completely dark and empty room. The silence still stretched around me. I couldn’t hear anything. I couldn’t see anything.
I was all alone in a creepy dilapidated bunker. Sparks from electrical wires flashed across the room in the darkness. An hour crept by. I tried calling out a few times but no one answered me. No one came. Sleepy, thirsty, and scared I fell asleep again.
I don’t know how long I had been in this room. I was getting thirsty. Really thirsty. The smoke was bothering my eyes and making them burn and water. My leg hurt and the baby was hungry. He moved and kicked unhappy with Momma and the lack of nourishment. Hours kept passing, maybe days. I couldn’t keep track of time without natural light to guide me.
Disoriented, I played a game. Lydia and I us
ed to play games when we were scared. My older sister would sing to me and tell me stories. She would hold my smaller hand in hers, staying close by my side, comforting me when I was too afraid to even speak. We always told happy tales and memories until all recollection of whatever had frightened us was gone.
The game would chase the fear away. Lydia used to tell me that happy thoughts were stronger than fear. Like Peter Pan and Tinkerbell from our storybook. If you kept your thoughts happy, nothing could harm you.
“Lydia,” I whispered into the dark room, “oh Lydia.”
I could see her.
Long auburn hair, straight and silky, bright blue eyes like my father, so pretty. I reached for her, my hand extended, almost feeling the touch of her fingers against mine. Oh God.
“Lydia.”
She smiled, waving good bye, fading, fading into the smoky darkness…
Lydia was not here. She would never be here again. Not to comfort me when I was afraid or sing to me when I was sad. She was dead. Gone. Murdered by the militia during K.D.
The Militia.
Kill Day had ripped her cruelly from my life, along with my mother. The agony of those thoughts tortured me. The loss tore at my heart and I relived every agonizing detail. Oh God, I thought, please, I cannot do this right now.
“Oh Mom, Mom…I miss you.”
My thoughts became erratic. Concentration was impossible. I think I was delirious. I kept fading in and out, unsure of what was going on around me. I thought I heard people talking but when I called out no one answered me. I must have been hearing voices. Maybe I was going crazy.
I started feeling weak, lethargic, and felt the baby moving a little less. It scared me but I was so tired that I fell back to sleep.
Help…
“Lizzie! Lizzie, can you hear me? Lizzie, where are you?”
“Mom? Lydia?” I called, lost in the dream world where fantasy and reality mingled.
