Kinnick grimaced. Another damaged soul. When will this war give instead of take? War never gives.
“Do you know where he is?”
She shook her head. The other woman looked up. “Only the redeemed will walk the earth again,” she uttered, her mouth barely moving.
“Dr. Williams, do you have any idea how to stop the virus?”
Dr. Williams smiled, mustache twitching. “Of course, I have the cure. Come. Come.” He stood up, waving at Kinnick.
Dr. Williams led Kinnick and Master Sergeant Hunter over to where the infected patient lay strapped to the table. Dr. Williams didn’t seem concerned that Master Sergeant Hunter had knifed the bastard only moments before.
“You see. You see. We have to keep feeding them, then when there is no one left to feed they will stop.”
“Thank you, Doctor, you can take a seat with your friends.”
Kinnick motioned Master Sergeant Hunter closer. “These people are mad, or traumatized, but who knows, given a safe place maybe Dr. Williams could snap out of it.”
“Sir, with all due respect. Civilians are not a priority or secondary priority on this mission,” Master Sergeant Hunter said.
“I know that, Master Sergeant. When we reach the surface, radio to the Pentagon we have survivors at Mount Eden. Maybe when we get some relief they can help them,” Kinnick said. A fucking long shot. But someone had to survive this apocalypse.
The grizzled master sergeant nodded. Dead end.
“You can come with us,” Kinnick said to the three mad people.
“No. No. No. We will stay here,” Dr. Williams said. The women rocked back and forth, hands wrapped around their knees.
“We will take you out.”
“Get out of here you fool! You can’t hear them? Even now they come,” Dr. Williams shouted. His mustache shifted in anger. Dr. Williams tried to shoo them out of his lab. Kinnick’s men scaled back out into the hall leaving Kinnick behind them.
“Good luck, Doctor,” he responded.
The mad doctor laughed.
It was time to leave the government’s tomb, but now they had no leads, nowhere to go, and no time.
GWEN
Quarantine Base Rattlesnake, Pittsburgh, PA
Steele led her hand in hand through the dead-filled camp. The gunfire had dissipated, but the carnage was complete. Blown-apart bodies of both formerly dead and living alike were strewn about, as if a child had been careless with its toys. Mauser followed closely behind like a crippled shadow.
They reached the sand-colored mess hall tent and Mark pushed his way inside. The inside was empty except for tables and chairs.
Steele wore bandages around his head and his eyes were open wide like those of a committed patient. “Stay here,” he demanded.
Mauser stood behind him, rifle slung downward. Not one bit of him was clean. It was as if he had decided to bath in blood and dust like a modern day Ares, God of War.
“Don’t speak to me like that. I am your partner, not some sort of minion,” Gwen stated. She turned to Mauser. He’s older; maybe somebody has taught him some manners. “Ben. What’s happening out there?”
Mauser stared at her as if no words came from her lips. He cupped an ear. “Wha—?” he yelled at her.
Steele put a hand on his shoulder and a finger to his lips, and Mauser shrugged his shoulders.
Steele turned back to Gwen, his demeanor a bit calmer. “He can’t hear you. He’s basically deaf,” he said on their friend’s behalf.
“Am I yelling?” Mauser yelled at them.
“Yes. Be quiet,” Steele said, holding a finger to his lips. Then he turned to Gwen. “I don’t have time to explain, but stay here. The camp isn’t safe.”
“All the more reason I should come with you.”
His mouth curled as if she brought him great pain.
“The soldiers, the dead, all of it is unsafe. Stay here. I’ll be back.” He rushed from the tent in a hurry.
Mauser smiled at her and followed behind Steele.
There is no way I am just going to sit here while he plays superhero. He is such a mule. She poked her head from the tent and watched him and Mauser march off.
A number of men and women in camouflage stacked their fallen brethren in a line outside the medical tent. Two soldiers set down a cot next to the line of the dead and went back inside. She wandered down the lane, dodging debris and soldiers alike.
It was like a god had kicked their base like a child an anthill. A squad of soldiers raced past her to where the front gate used to be. The walls had crumbled to a pile of rubble under the barrage of the artillery. Arms, legs, and broken bodies stuck out of the rubble. Four soldiers set up a temporary machine gun nest facing down the road. Gunfire snapped off further down the road. The base wasn’t safe anymore.
A Humvee drove past her and stopped. Soldiers loaded supplies into the back. Men shouted to one another, and a big transport truck joined the growing convoy.
Gwen followed Steele and Mauser at a distance. Mauser’s red hair and limp were easy to locate over the chaos of the camp.
How dare he speak to me that way? I am not his slave. He seemed indifferent that she had almost been raped, murdered, or eaten alive in the past week. He was short and terse and detached from her. She didn’t expect him to mind read, but something more than a caveman grunt would be appreciated. She felt alone, and the last thing she wanted in this world was to be alone.
Steele turned and looked over his shoulder, and she ducked behind a Humvee. He scanned the camp for a moment. Did he see me? He found what he was searching for and her bearded warrior continued walking.
Not even her captor Puck had treated her this way. At least he gave her more than two minutes of time. She wouldn’t forget this and Steele would pay later for his transgressions.
The duo stopped in front of a large tan tent by the cliff edge and they spoke with two sentries. One of them ducked his head and the two men went inside. Why are they talking to the commander?
She walked nonchalantly past the tent, trying to get a glimpse inside. The flaps were closed and the two armed soldiers manned the entrance with nervous eyes. Nothing. There is no reason why I can’t be in whatever meeting is so important. I have experience in relief operations and understand the necessity of security, and I’m a part of this group. What good is Mauser anyway? He can’t even hear a damn word anyone says.
She stopped her scouting and turned around, marching back. She drew all of her five-foot-three frame up in front of the sentries.
“I need to speak with Mark Steele. He’s in there,” she said, pointing at the tent.
“Ma’am, no civilians allowed,” said the sentry. He stuck out a hand to stop her.
She slapped at his hand. “Don’t touch me, you heathen.” She jumped at the gap between them and both men pushed her back.
“Ma’am, please. Stay back.” The soldier pointed his gun in her direction.
“You wouldn’t do that if you knew what was good for you,” she threatened them.
Both men hesitated, lowering their weapons. She stood back, trying to think of a way in without being shot. There has to be a way to find him.
She walked away, then doubled back, heading to the side of the command tent where she sat down. Pittsburgh’s downtown Point Park burned. Large craters lay about the old Revolutionary War fort outline. Probably the most action the fort has ever seen.
How can we get through this? She put her head in her hands and closed her eyes. Emotion. Fatigue. And the loss of hope pushed down upon her all at once. Tears rolled down her face.
Her life wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be happy and successful. Career- and family-driven at the same time. A wedding on the lake. Visiting her grandparents’ farm. The beautiful journey of childbirth. Raising a family with Mark. Now all of those things were broken. They did not loom on the near horizon. They lay shattered in the dirt. Broken dreams of a fading time with a man that was breaking apart p
iece by piece.
Before the virus broke out, she had eagerly anticipated the day when Mark would propose to her. She had waited. And waited. She knew he was a good man, the right man for her to marry, but now … he would hardly look at her or even talk to her. He was so focused on survival, she felt he was slipping away.
Everything that came out of his mouth was a command or an order. No negotiating, no explanation, no reasoning. Just do this or I will make you do it. In fact, he was sounding a lot like Puck. Is this the man that he really is at his core? Is he a brutal caveman, hardly more evolved from an animal? She wiped her eyes. She could faintly hear voices over the periodic gunfire. Two men arguing. She leaned closer to the tent, putting an ear to the fabric.
“I cannot let you leave,” said one. His voice was stern with the air of a man that was used to being listened to. He continued, “We are going to need every able-bodied man available if we are going to make it to the airfield.”
“I’ll make a deal with you,” said another. Gwen thought it was Mark. “I will go with your engineer and help him implement Anaconda. In return, you have to let us continue on our way after I rejoin the group at Camp Hawk including Joseph.”
The other was angry. “You listen to me. You are in no position to negotiate,” he said, his voice rising in disgust. He was cut off.
“I am in every position to negotiate. I have the skills to get the job done. You need me to complete your mission. Take it or leave it,” said the second man. His voice was stern, but kind, and she was sure it was Mark.
“You got guts coming in here like this. If we were in any other time, I’d toss you off the cliff. I’ll hold them until you return. Otherwise, I don’t see the need to keep extra mouths to feed,” said the first man. The end was definitely a threat. “Consider them consolation so nothing goes outside of the plan.”
“There is no need for that,” Mark’s voice echoed.
“There is every need for that,” said the first.
“Gwen, Gwen,” Joseph called over to her. He rushed in between the tents to where she sat. She stood and wiped her eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked nervously, shoving a hand into his white coat and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He placed one into his mouth.
“What kind of doctor smokes?” she said. She put a hand on his arm and stopped him mid-light.
He looked at her sheepishly. “One under enormous amounts of stress,” he offered with an apologetic smile.
“Not one that I want to go to,” she said.
“Noted, Gwen,” he said. He put the cigarettes away and adjusted his glasses.
“I came to find you.”
“Why is that?” She folded her arms beneath her breasts.
“It’s Lucia.”
“What about her?”
“She’s doing okay. I treated her as best I could for her physical injuries,” he said looking down in embarrassment.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “And? She will heal?”
“Yes. Physically she’ll heal over time. Mentally and emotionally she seems to have deeper wounds.”
Gwen’s heart leapt in sympathy for the woman. Nothing can be worse than her pain.
“I was wondering if you could talk to her. I don’t speak Spanish, and I’m not very good at the counseling portion of medicine. It’s not my forte.”
“I understand. You did the right thing by coming for me,” she said with a nod. Her gut hardened with resolve. When she had purpose, she was unstoppable.
She made for the hospital tent at a brisk walk. No shit, she is going to have psychological scarring. Her husband has been killed. Her baby girl has been murdered. And she was brutally gang-raped by a bunch of trash. How can I ever console a person that has had her entire world destroyed? And here I was brooding about how bad my life is. She was angry at herself.
Halfway to her destination, shouting stopped her.
“Wait up,” Steele said. He jogged after her.
He smiled almost self-consciously when he saw her face. He reached for her hands grazing her fingertips before she pulled them away. Pain set on his eyebrows. The action gave her a small instant sense of gratification and deep regret at the same time. I don’t want to hurt you, but don’t you see what you are doing to us?
“We have to talk,” he said. His voice was soft as if he were tired of yelling. Worry shadowed his sunken eyes. He looked ten years older than he had before this started. This is what he would have looked like after three kids and a dragging career. Strong but tired. Virtuous but pained. Wearing out but not finished.
“I don’t have time for this. I have to tend to Lucia,” she said. The coldness of her voice caught even her off guard. Steele looked over at the hospital tent, mentally weighing her words for a moment.
“I,” he said, pausing for a long few seconds. His words lay beneath the surface, awaiting his mind to find them. He was always like this, flustered with her. It was like he had a thousand things to say, but only ever gave her the most base version. She acted ready to leave, which she knew gave him more angst. Mark, I read you like a book. Why can’t you read me?
He gulped, his throat moving, and set his mouth flat. His words were gone into the depth of his soul. Only the hard exterior exoskeleton remained that counterterrorism training and mental hardening had melded together.
“Make sure you are ready to go in thirty minutes. Colonel Jackson and his men are leaving, and our group will accompany them to an airfield in western Ohio,” he said. More orders. He tried to pull her in close. She turned her head. He held her forcefully against his broad chest. Awkward time elapsed.
“Just be ready and on the mover in thirty,” he said, releasing her. Steele headed for the supply depot.
The ignorance of men. Life wasn’t just facts, logic, and order; if it was, everyone would just be machines.
She flipped open the tent flap. The tent was dark, but it wasn’t hard to find Lucia. She was the only middle-aged Latina woman in a sea of wounded soldiers. A man reached for Gwen his skin black from being burnt. He mumbled something under his breath. She moved his hand gently and knelt down beside him. The whole left side of his body had been severely burned, the skin charred and disfigured. She leaned close. He pulled her near his face with surprising strength.
“Amanda,” he croaked.
“No,” was all she could muster. She gave his hand a squeeze and stood back up.
When she saw Lucia, she started to reconsider her moral compass. Lucia looked like a doll. Black hair without a single gray did not match her weathered face. Her eyes were open, but she showed no signs of life. The ceiling was her only friend and she stared up at it with no recognition of anything that happened around her.
“Mama,” sobbed a man nearby. The men around Gwen murmured and called out in pain, crying for their loved ones. Gwen wrapped her arms around Lucia and propped her slightly upright like an adult infant.
The tent flaps were tied open and soldiers came in and out, moving the wounded out to waiting vehicles.
Gwen grabbed a clear water bottle and tipped it to Lucia’s mouth. Water dribbled from the corners of Lucia’s lips. Gwen wiped it away and stroked her hair out of her face.
“You are so beautiful. It’s okay now. Nobody will hurt you,” she said. Lucia stared straight ahead, eyes blank. Gwen held her close, trying to squeeze life, to squeeze feeling back into the woman. There has to be a way back. There has to be a way back from this. This can’t be the only way forward. There must be something better than this.
Gwen pressed the woman’s face into her breast and rocked her back and forth. She held her tight like they were in a flood and only she could prevent Lucia from drifting away. Maybe this is all we get. This is life. Misery and pain and suffering.
She whispered. “Everything will be okay. Shhh. Everything’s fine.” She squeezed Lucia tighter. Lucia’s breath exited her lungs. Gwen pressed harder, blocking more oxygen from entering Lucia’s lungs. Lucia didn’t fight her. She didn’t even make a sou
nd. Her hand reached up momentarily, but fell back to the cot.
“Soon you will see Maria,” Gwen whispered. My only promise to them was that they would be all right. I have failed my women.
When it was over, Gwen shed no tears. The new world wasn’t made for them. It wasn’t made for people like Lucia and Lindsay. She gently laid Lucia’s body back onto the cot and walked out of the tent. Her thirty minutes were up.
STEELE
Quarantine Base Rattlesnake, Pittsburgh, PA
The sun barreled its way into the rain clouds, an inevitable battle between the sun and the storm. The base was a beehive of activity. Soon it would be a ghost town. A deserted place devoid of life. Another outpost of humanity overrun in the war against the dead. The dead would move through it with wanton needs for human flesh, finding no one and continuing on in their search for others.
Steele ran a hand through his ragged hair. He kept the bandage around his head, but let his hair pop out the top. Most of it was full and thick aside from where the nasty scarring tissue had formed across the top of his skull. He fingered his mags, uselessly checking his equipment. He ran a hand down the head of his tomahawk like a lover, its cold steel easing his anxiety only a sliver. Any of the gear he wanted had been returned or supplied to him. What is taking her so long?
Every minute prolonged his misery. His mind raced. He wanted to tell her that everything he did was for her, so they could maybe live some day in peace. Peace? You think you will find peace? Peace is for the dead. The only future he could foresee was one filled with death. His death being the least of his worries.
All he got from her was the cold shoulder. It was like nothing was ever good enough. It wasn’t enough that he had rescued her. She only saw the fact that one of her friends was killed. She is right. I literally killed Lindsay. His mind let the idea of mercy float away.
She wanted him to show emotions about their current crisis, and he was doing everything in his power to keep emotions under the surface. She doesn’t think that these things affect me? Horrid dead faces flashed before his eyes. Lindsay’s crying face. Jarl. He ground his teeth until they hurt and the images disappeared.
The End Time Saga (Book 2): The Breaking Page 22
