Five Roads To Texas | Book 11 | Reciprocity [Sidney's Way 3]

by Parker, Brian

  Fucking Iranians. Grady’s hatred for them burned brightly.

  “Hey. Hey, mister. Are you okay?”

  Grady turned his head. “I told you to stay upstairs,” he managed.

  “Yeah, well, it’s been a long time. We thought maybe you got yourself killed or something.”

  “A long time?”

  “Like ten minutes. You okay?”

  Grady pushed himself to his feet and wobbled unsteadily for a moment. He could feel his energy level beginning to return. “Yeah. I’m good. I just needed a second.”

  He looked around the small kitchen and dining area, his eyes resting on the girls he’d told to stay upstairs. “Help me out, will ya? I need a weapon. My other one broke.” He pointed at the jagged curtain rod standing nearly vertical from where it was imbedded in the back of the gangbanger’s neck.

  “Yeah, sure.” The two women went into the kitchen as Grady flexed the fingers of his damaged hand. Carla, the quiet one, held up a large knife that she’d pulled from a wooden block on the countertop.

  Grady flashed her a smile. “That will do. Thank you.”

  He accepted the knife from her. “I’m going next door to see about Scorpion. The soldiers outside are still shooting every once in a while, so stay here in the kitchen. The refrigerator and the cabinets will help to block any bullets.”

  Mandy nodded while Carla just continued to stare at him with those big doe eyes. “When the soldiers come into the house—and they will—yell like crazy that you’re unarmed and not part of the gang, okay?”

  “You ain’t leavin’ us, are you?” Mandy asked.

  “No. I’m not. I promised you that I’d see you safely out of this, and I’m gonna do that. But I have to make sure that Scorpion is dead. He has my gun and I want it back.”

  “Be safe, um… What’s your name again?”

  “Grady.”

  Mandy leaned in quickly and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Be safe, Grady. We’ll be right here.”

  He opened the back door cautiously. The small patch of grass in the back was unkempt and overgrown, but a well-worn path of mashed down grasses led the way to the house next door. The gang must have been using this route for months. Grady poked his head around the townhouse cautiously, peering up the space between homes to the street out front where his platoon was. He didn’t want to get shot by some trigger happy infantryman.

  It looked clear, so he sprinted across the opening. A couple of bullets zinged down the breezeway, but nothing came close enough to him to worry about.

  He held the knife at the ready as he crept up the house stairs. He liked to envision himself as the Angel of Death, descending upon the wicked. The mental imagery made him smile.

  The back door to the house was unlocked. He eased it open, slipped inside, then closed it behind himself. It was quiet. Nothing seemed to be moving inside the home. That was strange. It should have been a hive of activity, or at least the defenders talking amongst themselves.

  Grady pressed himself flat against the wall and slid along it toward the front of the home. He saw the first body halfway over the couch. The man had been shot in the back and fallen over the back of the couch, most likely attempting to flee.

  The second body came into view on the floor. Similarly, this one appeared to have been shot in the back while trying to run away. Grady pushed himself off the wall. A cool breeze hit him as he exposed himself. Wind blew through the shattered windows at the front of the home.

  Two more bodies lay sprawled in the living room and a fifth, recognizable form lay in a bloody heap by the windows. Scorpion’s head rested near his shoulder, blood dripping slowly into the large puddle on the floor. Given the amount of blood, Grady was certain the man was dead. So much for his big, bad Angel of Death routine. He hadn’t done a damn thing.

  “Hey!” Grady called out softly to see if anyone would answer. No one did. The house was a morgue. The platoon’s response to being fired at had been swift and deadly.

  Grady heard the slapping of boots on concrete outside and ducked back behind the wall in the kitchen. They were getting into position to breach the house. He yelled with everything he could muster. “Don’t shoot! It’s me, Grady Harper!”

  “Harper?” someone replied from outside.

  “Yeah. It’s me. Everybody in here looks to be dead.”

  “Poseidon.”

  “What?” Grady asked in confusion.

  “Poseidon,” the voice repeated.

  “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Grady shouted back.

  “It’s the challenge word,” the soldier replied.

  “Oh…” Fuck. He never paid attention when the LT gave out this stupid shit. “Um, look, I don’t know what the hell the password is, okay? Just go get Lieutenant Murphy and he’ll tell you that I’m really the asshole inside.”

  “The LT got shot.”

  “What?” Grady rounded the corner. One of the kids from the platoon had his rifle through the window, aimed at him. He relaxed when he saw that it was indeed Grady. “Where is he?”

  “He’s across the street.”

  Grady walked quickly toward the front of the house, retrieving his rifle from the gang leader. He looked around for the rest of his gear, but didn’t see it. As he opened the front door, he told the soldier that he hadn’t cleared the entire house, just the first floor and to keep an eye out for his gear that the gang had stolen.

  “You look like shit,” the kid said.

  “I feel like shit,” he answered. Then he began walking toward the street, hands in the air with his rifle. He didn’t need some grunt mistaking him for a gangbanger. “It’s me, Grady. I’m coming out.”

  In moments, he was past the first row of parallel parked cars and in amongst the small group of men. There was only a squad here. It wasn’t even the entire platoon. A squad had done so much damage. “Where’s the LT?” he asked.

  “Over there,” Staff Sergeant Gallegos said, pointing across the street. “What’s the status of the hostiles?”

  “Five dead in the house. Um…Four, I think, in the townhouse next door. There are two women hiding in the kitchen of the townhouse. They’re noncombatants. I don’t know how many of them there are, so it’s best to search everything.”

  “Got it. Thanks.”

  Grady limp-jogged across the street. On the opposite side of the line of cars, he found Lieutenant Murphy and the medic. Blood spread out across the street and he knelt beside the still form. “Oh God. I’m so sorry, LT.”

  “I was going to try to operate on him,” Specialist Mitchell stated. “But he’s lost so much blood. I’m not sure it would do any good.”

  “What’s… Where’d he get hit?”

  “Entry wound on the stomach. Exit wound on the back. Pretty sure his spinal cord is severed. He couldn’t feel his legs when he was awake.”

  “Is he dead?” Grady asked.

  “Not yet. He will be soon. He’s lost so much blood. All I can do is to ease his pain until he goes at this point.”

  Grady was pissed at himself. He’d caused this kid’s death. If he hadn’t gone out hunting last night, then the LT would still be alive. They’d be packing up for their trip to the university labs right now, or already on their way. An actual scientist would be looking at the blood running through his veins. “Wait,” he said aloud.

  “What?”

  Grady clutched at an idea. It was a potentially bad idea, but what the fuck? The kid was already dying. “If you had blood, could you save him?”

  “Maybe,” Mitchell admitted. “I mean, I dug around inside and didn’t see any severed arteries or veins. It’s just the overall trauma of the site that caused so much blood loss.”

  “So, if he were to get a transfusion…”

  “He might survive. He might not. There’s no telling what kind of infection could already be setting in.”

  “Have you ever heard of ROLO?” Grady asked.

  “Uh… What?”

&nb
sp; “ROLO, the Ranger O Low Titer Whole Blood Program. It’s an O-negative blood transfusion in the field. I have O-negative blood.”

  “The universal donor,” Mitchell replied, catching on to the idea.

  “You have the tubing for it?”

  “Yeah. I have the field transfusion kit in my bag, but I never got trained on how to use it.”

  “Break it out. I know how to do it.” Grady stood and called out to a soldier several feet away. “Hey, buddy. I need you to go around the platoon and find out who has O-negative blood. Send them to me if they do.”

  “I’m supposed to be in overwatch, Grady,” the soldier replied.

  “These dumb gang fucks don’t have any real weapons,” he yelled. “They don’t need you to provide cover. If you don’t do this, the LT is gonna die.”

  He could see the confliction on the young kid’s face. He wanted to help the lieutenant, but his squad leader had put him in position to guard their backs. It was a tough call for a private to make.

  “Go ahead, Private Buchannan.” Grady turned to see Sergeant Turner walking up to the scene. One of the squads followed behind him. The grizzled veteran didn’t bother asking what had happened, he just picked up the pieces and got to work. “Tell your squad leader that I gave you an order. Find us some donors.”

  Grady met his eyes and nodded. “We’re gonna try ROLO on the LT,” he informed the platoon sergeant.

  “Okay. What do you need from me?”

  “Site security,” Grady replied. “And as many type O-negative donors as we have in the platoon.”

  Turner pointed at Grady as the operator unzipped his uniform top. “You sure you should be one of the donors? You’ve been bitten. We know that the immune still carry the virus in their blood. Won’t you infect him?”

  He paused midway through shrugging out of his fatigues. “I thought about that too. If we can’t get enough O-negative donors, then I’ll have to donate. He’s dead if Specialist Mitchell can’t get him some blood.”

  “I have O-negative blood,” Specialist Feliciano said as he ran up to the group from the house. “What do I need to do?”

  Grady winked at Sergeant Turner. They’d get this shit done. “Take your top off, Kenny. You’re gonna help save the LT’s life.”

  28

  * * *

  LIBERAL, KANSAS

  MARCH 8TH

  Another long night was finally over. The sounds of the infected in the streets below had been nearly maddening. With each passing minute, Sidney had wondered if their inadvertent movements would alert the horde and whip them into a frenzy once more. Thankfully, the night passed without any problems.

  Now, it was time to assess the day’s odds of leaving their hideout.

  She relieved herself, then walked to the bedroom window. Below, she saw a few straggling infected, but the impossibly large group that had filled the space between houses was gone. “What?” Sidney mumbled in confusion.

  “What’s up?”

  She glanced over at Mark. He rubbed both of his eyes with the palm of his hand. “The horde is gone.”

  “Really?” he asked, walking to where she stood.

  She jutted her chin out to indicate a few of the infected about a block or so down the street. “There are a couple of them still hanging around, but the thousand or so that were here yesterday are gone.” Sidney pointed to her bag. “Hand me the binoculars, please.”

  When the boy handed them to her, she glassed the two trucks. Two days ago, there’d been four soldiers trapped in the cabs of those trucks. Yesterday, there’d been two single gunshots as the men in the lead vehicle committed suicide, or murder-suicide, she wasn’t sure. The result was the same. This morning, the farthest door from the camp was open on the trail vehicle. They’d tried to make a run for it.

  “I think I know where the horde went,” she said softly.

  “Where?”

  “The last vehicle,” she handed him the binoculars. “Looks like the two guys in there tried to make a run for it.”

  “And the crazies followed after them.”

  She nodded. “If I were a betting girl, I’d say that’s what happened.”

  Mark yawned. “Why’d they’d try to do it at night?”

  Sidney shrugged. “Lack of understanding about their enemy, maybe?” It was incomprehensible to her that the soldiers hadn’t known that the infected were much more active at night than in the daytime. But then again, they’d been pretty amped up after the excitement of the attack and the opportunity for all of that fresh meat. She shuddered involuntarily as she remembered the dismembered bodies being devoured before they ever got the chance to turn.

  “So, what’s on the agenda then, boss lady?”

  “Breakfast first,” she replied. “Then I want to see just how many of them are still around.”

  They heated water over a small fire in the master bathroom’s clawfoot tub. When it was near boiling, Sidney poured the water into their bowls along with some instant oatmeal they’d scavenged from the home’s first floor pantry. It was surprisingly good. The chemicals and preservatives in the packages had kept it from going bad. She used the rest of the water to make coffee. That was not so good. The coffee grinds kept getting stuck in her teeth and she finally gave up after a few sips.

  “God, I’d kill for a Starbucks right about now.”

  “Eww, gross,” Mark chuckled. “That overpriced crap tastes burnt. Why would you ever drink that?”

  She regarded him for a moment, considering whether to question his upbringing or challenge the fact that the kid had no idea what he was talking about. She decided to just let it go. “And what do you think is a good cup of coffee?”

  He waved generally in the direction of town. “The Loves over on Pancake Boulevard, man, they—”

  “You’re fucking with me, right?” Sidney interrupted.

  “Huh?”

  “Pancake Boulevard?”

  He laughed. “It’s a real street. Heck, it’s the main drag through Liberal.”

  “What kind of redneck dump did you grow up in?”

  “Sorry that we can’t all be Washington, DC socialites with law degrees,” he teased back. “I like it out here… I mean, I liked it out here. It was a much slower way of life. I went to Wichita and Oklahoma City before, even went to Colorado Springs one time, but none of it was what I expected. Sure, there were lots of bright lights, new restaurants, and big, fancy buildings, but there were just too many people. They were all up on top of each other. I didn’t like it.”

  “And that’s where you tried Starbucks?” she asked, bringing the conversation full circle.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he answered. “Nastiest stuff I’ve ever had. Like I said, the Loves Country Store had the best coffee. On days that I missed the bus, or that my mom took me to school, we’d stop at the Loves and I’d get a cup of coffee and a donut—a filled long john with maple icing. So good.” He sighed with the memory. “We’d sit in the parking lot at school jamming out to classic rock until they unlocked the doors. That was awesome.”

  He quieted down and stared off into the corner of the room. “I’m sorry about your mom, Mark,” she said, placing a hand on his knee.

  “Thanks. It’s been a long time, y’know?”

  “Still doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

  “I’m okay now,” Mark said. “I almost went crazy in that supermarket by myself. That’s over now.”

  Sidney watched him carefully. He wasn’t normally a moody kid, but, God, she couldn’t even imagine what he must have gone through by himself for all those months. The mental trauma that he must have suffered. “We’ve got plenty of time until we can go anywhere. You wanna talk about it?”

  He pushed himself to his feet. “No. I’m good. I’m gonna go downstairs and see if the way’s clear. I’d like to get moving today if we can.”

  “Mark.” She reached out and grabbed his hand. “It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to be upset about everything that’s happened. We�
��”

  “Can you please shut up about it?” Mark hissed. “I’m fine. Out here on the Plains, we don’t need a shrink to help us talk through our problems, or take medication to help balance out the chemicals in our brain. We just adjust our hat and get back to work. Ain’t nobody else gonna do it for us.”

  He didn’t stomp off, because that would have been completely stupid, but he didn’t attempt to walk quietly as he headed toward the stairs either. Sidney felt bad for him. She really wished that he hadn’t decided to come with her, even though his presence had allowed the bombing of the base fence and he’d saved her from falling off the roof. He needed to stay back with Vern and, apparently, with Katie.

  Sidney rested her head against the wall. Everything was so difficult. She just wanted to go home and snuggle with baby Lincoln and her cat, Rick James. Thinking of the baby’s chubby little cheeks made her smile. She wanted to hold him forever.

  Her gaze drifted back to the stairs where Mark had disappeared and her vision went fuzzy as she allowed her eyes to relax. Until she could stop the Iranians from coming after them, she couldn’t go back. They had to put an end to the occupation. They had to be free.

  And she was the only one who could do that. Vern was bedridden for the time being. Katie and Sally were just kids who were good in an ambush, but they didn’t have the tenacity to go into the heart of the Iranian camp and do this. Carmen, well, she was Carmen. Great with kids, a very good nurse, and a borderline pacifist, so she was out. Mark was a good assistant, even if he lacked the vision to develop a long-term solution.

  Sidney’s mind clicked off the people in her group. That was it. Those were all that was left after Jake had taken off with the Army guys on some damned fool’s errand to Washington, DC instead of staying to help fight off the Iranian threat. She knew that he was trying to help with the greater cause to develop some type of vaccine, but the truth was, it felt like he’d abandoned her and Lincoln out here.