by Tara Brown
Milo, spun in a circle, shining the flashlight on the wooden walls and hay stacks. “There’s nothing here that would make this easier. Shooting at them in the dark is a mistake,” he said as the light landed on a door on the far wall from the entrance, across from where we stood. He walked there, instinctually.
I waited, not sure we should be opening random doors, not here.
The rock music was getting inside my head.
Stan growled again, giving us a look before he turned and left, following Zoey and the herd of wounded people around the dark side of the barn.
“Celeste,” Milo said, poking his head back out the doorway, “I have a plan.”
His words made my stomach hurt more.
“Okay, let's hurry.”
His plan was genius and quick.
But it didn't mean I felt better about it.
It was the crazy sort of genius.
But if we acted fast, it would work. Should work.
Following his direction, we got into position.
When he was ready, I gulped a deep breath and turned to him, about to say this was a bad idea when he smiled weirdly. “Ready?” he asked.
“No.”
“Me neither. Let’s do it.” He ran in the direction of the back of the house, making a ton of noise, crunching along as he searched for the item he knew would be there. His years of being a realtor had paid off.
I started to count. At one hundred, I pulled the first pin. Then the second, my fingers shaking as I held the grenades he’d found in a way that prevented them from detonating. The sweat on my hands almost made one slip. I held my breath, balancing it in my unsteady grip. Trembling, I managed to pinch the handle and hold it tight.
Two hundred.
I threw the first one, landing it short. “Shit!” I threw a second quickly, getting it directly where I needed to. I pulled the pin and threw the third and fourth and turned to run. The explosions hit one after the other, sending a heat wave that threw me forward. My back burned from the intensity. I was sure I was wounded but my jacket was just warm to the touch. I scrambled up and turned to see it for what it was.
His grenade had blown the propane tank at the back of the house. He said they were common in farmlands like this where natural gas pipelines didn't run. The fire would carry through the lines in the house, which he assumed would be the gas fireplace, the cookstove, and possibly the barbecue we smelled in the backyard. My grenades blew the rigs and gas cans in the yard, causing massive explosions.
Screams of men and women joined the cracking and burning of the house and vehicles. Something else started to pop like gunshots. I ducked and ran, heading along the fence line that was almost as clear as daylight from the massive fire.
Milo came rushing toward me, his hair singed and his face dark and slightly burnt. But he wore a smile so wide it was obvious he couldn't contain himself. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to the fence where we’d begun this journey. At the crest of the hill, we turned and paused, watching the fire rage out of control. It caught the fields and I winced. “Oh shit.”
“We gotta go. Grass fires burn really fast and the wind is coming this way.” He pulled me to the road where the wounded were slowly getting into the truck. “HURRY!” Milo shouted, waving at Zoey. “There’s a fire!”
“What?” Zoey asked.
“Get in the truck!” I screamed.
We raced to the doors, climbing in as the last of them got into the back of the truck. Milo started it, doing the roughest U-turn I’d ever experienced.
He stomped on the gas as the fire raced the field and us. The house was burning, the rigs were destroyed, and the farm was engulfed. Every person in the truck, apart from me and Stan, was wounded. But as we made it back to the blue buildings and turned onto the highway west again, everyone was smiling.
It was the smallest win in the grand scheme of things. And compared to our losses, it was nothing really. But it still felt amazing.
A realtor, a teenaged librarian, and an art student had taken down a kidnapping ring.
“Fuck yes!” Milo shouted, slamming his hand on the steering wheel, making me and whoever the hell the people in the truck with us were, all jump. “We did it!” Milo breathed deeply, suggesting it was his first solid inhale since this started. “I pissed my pants a little. And I was pretty sure I had a serious burn, but we fucking did it.” He started to cry.
“We did it,” I sighed and glanced at the people in the back. All of us broke into tears.
It was still the worst day of my life, hands down. But the revenge was sweeter than anything I could have imagined.
Through blurry eyes, I caught a glimpse of Zoey and Rozzy in the back of the truck, huddled with the masses and Stan. Zoey held her tightly, kissing the side of her head. Rozzy sobbed uncontrollably.
There were no words for this moment. There wasn't even a painting.
28
Colorado Springs
Zoey
“Look!” one of the girls shouted and pointed. In the distance, on the horizon, was a snowcapped mountain. “We’re close.” She beamed, bright and cheery. We were still in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by prairies and fields, but the houses were more frequent. It was less dire knowing if we had to stop or ran out of gas, we wouldn't die on the side of the road.
Ignoring the throbbing pain in my hands, I focused on the snowy mountains as they got bigger and darker. Though they weren’t nearly as big as I thought they might be, or rocky. They looked like small and sparse mountains.
A truck came around the corner, driving toward us. A pickup like ours. I tightened my grip on Rozzy, making what had scabbed ooze blood, but the lone woman drove past, offering a small wave at Milo as he drove into the city.
There was no welcome sign as we entered Colorado Springs, but the signs for Peterson Air Force Base brought cheers from the back of the truck. Aaron, the man whose family we found walking on the side of the road after Celeste had promised we’d pick them up, smiled wide at me as the small dog he kept in his thick jacket licked his face. “We made it,” he gushed as if he and I had been on this trip together from the start.
Rozzy nodded against me. “We sure as hell did.” She sniffled against the cold air. It was freezing here. The blankets and warmth of our bodies all pressed together was the only thing keeping us alive. We’d rescued twelve people from the barn. The four with the worst injuries were in the back with me and four others who were helping them. The four with middle-of-the-road injuries were in the backseat of the truck; and Celeste, Milo, and Aaron’s wife and kid were in the front seat. It was cramped quarters but we made it work, snuggling for body heat.
Stan whined. He was hungry and needed to get out and move around. This was too many people for him. And me.
But even though I struggled with claustrophobia, I clung to Rozzy, smelling the blood in her hair like a serial killer. It wasn't hers. I suspected it was Owen’s. It was the last piece of him I had, and she was going to wash it off, send it down the drain. Send that piece of him on a new adventure. Sort of like the ash the rest of him had become. He would get caught in the wind and carried away, off to explore the world the way he had wanted so badly to do.
Just over two weeks and I would see him again.
My firm belief in the afterlife had clicked into place the moment he and West left. There was no way they were gone and this was over. I would see them again.
A girl in the back seat pointed for Milo to turn left. He took the turn slowly. As we got farther into the city, other vehicles drove on the road, making us all tense. We sat in uncomfortable silence as the small city of Colorado Springs woke up. Whoever was left, drove around, offering a wave or a nod as we passed them. It was the first place this had happened.
“Colorado’s friendly,” Rozzy muttered, her eyes narrow as she watched the passing vehicles.
The skiff of snow here made me notice the wind on my face more. I shivered and snuggled into Stan and Rozzy. The girl gave Milo mor
e directions. He turned and took us farther into the city. I was lost, completely. The few mountains off to one side of us were the goal, I knew that much. But the rest of Colorado Springs was a mystery.
Rozzy’s teeth began to chatter.
I hugged her tighter, getting another soft whiff of metallic blood.
Milo drove around a couple of parked vehicles in the middle of the road, abandoned with the doors open. I turned, checking for blueberries. I didn't want to see them, but I couldn't look the other way. Both were empty.
Milo turned again and drove us into a parking lot. It was a medical building. He parked the truck and turned it off, taking a long breath. His shoulders relaxed for the first time since the accident, making his neck long and slim again.
I braced Rozzy and winced at the pain in my hands as I opened the gate, letting Stan down. He ran for the snowy grass and lifted a leg, peeing without sniffing. He too had relaxed a little since the tragic night before.
The medical building had smashed windows and doors. I gulped as I stared at it, imagining we were in one of those games the guys always played. The games that had helped with the rescue mission.
Celeste motioned her head at the door, giving me the look. “We’ll clear the building while the guys get the injured people in, okay?”
“Okay.” I followed, taking my gun out and holding it tightly, nervous enough about what we’d find that the pain in my hands dulled with the tension. And the worry of what we’d be forced to do if we found bad people.
“You okay?” I asked as we inched through the door cautiously, away from everyone else. We hadn’t really discussed her blowing up a bunch of people yet.
“Yeah,” she lied, badly. “No.” She paused and for a second I thought maybe she might lose it. “I can’t believe yesterday happened. I can’t believe they’re gone. And we have all these hurt people.” She struggled to maintain her cool. “My brother and sister, not to sound selfish, but they’re going to die tomorrow and leave my sister’s kids behind. And I can’t get her a message.” And then she lost it. “I can’t even tell them I lo—love them,” she choked on her words. Her eyes glistening, she inhaled sharply. “And I just want to start over. I want to do it all differently. My heart hurts. It’s actually burning, like pieces of it are dying off and I can’t breathe.” She collapsed into me so I held her, noticing how much she smelled like smoke and fire.
She sobbed for a minute before turning it off and sniffling. “Sorry.”
“No. If I could cry again, I’d never stop,” I confessed. But the tears that had come so suddenly, were gone again. My heart burned too. I also couldn't breathe. Because the lump was forming in my throat, building and preparing for the next great sadness.
“Come on.” She wiped her eyes and linked my arm in hers for a moment and led me into the cold unlit building. Enough light came in through the windows that we could see. The place had been ransacked.
I checked in rooms, trying to do the things police did on TV, looking and pointing their guns, though I doubted I’d be able to pull the trigger.
When I was as sure as I could be that we were alone, I found Celeste. “There’s no one here.”
“Yeah, they’ve cleaned out the harsh drugs and left.” She rolled her eyes. “Drug addicts and bucket-list psychos.”
Milo and Stan came in, with Rozzy hopping on her good leg and leaning on him. Aaron’s wife, Tasha, rushed along to her side. “I can set and cast it here. But without X-rays, I don't know how accurate the set will be.”
“She’s a nurse,” Celeste whispered. “Thank God.”
The walking wounded came pouring in after them. A broken arm, broken ribs, gashes needing stitches, and some broken fingers. One girl had a cut so long on her leg it had soaked through a hoodie. She’d lost a lot of blood.
Besides Tasha, not one of us knew a single thing about first aid or nursing. I knew CPR, which wouldn’t be useful unless someone choked.
“Let’s go grab the food and water,” Milo said after he’d gotten Rozzy settled into one of the patient beds with Tasha tending to her. “Do you want to help, Joey?” he asked Aaron and Tasha’s son.
“Okay.” He nodded. Joey was small for ten, slim and sickly looking.
“The building next to us is an animal hospital. I’d like to get Stan some food and meds and supplies.” Milo gave me and Celeste a questioning stare.
“Yeah, we’ll go.” Celeste slapped her thigh. “Come on, Stan.”
He turned, his white face stained a bit from the blood. In the barn, he’d nearly eaten the drunken man alive. Not that I blamed him.
Had I been able to beat one of them up, I would have. The image of the people tied to the wall in that dark scary barn, exposed to the cold, injured, and traumatized would haunt me for two more weeks.
“Let’s see if we can steal one or two of those cars.” Celeste pointed at the few vehicles parked at the animal hospital.
“Okay.” I grabbed the walkie from the truck and strode across the parking lot with Celeste. Turning it on, I started messing with the dials, trying to find a signal. It’s what Owen would have done. Owen and his CB radio. I nearly rolled my eyes, but I missed his dorkiness. The same as I missed the way West would blush when he gave me one of those side-glances, sneaking a peek at me through his lashes.
“Are you okay?” Celeste asked as I continued to slowly turn the dials.
“No,” I didn't bother lying to try to make either of us feel better.
“I’m so sorry, Zo.”
“Me too.” I bit my lip and fought getting sucked back into my fuzzy state. It had been gone for the most part since we rescued Rozzy. I'd seen that wheelbarrow and knew exactly what to do, from reading it in a book.
When we arrived at the animal hospital’s front door, it didn't look how I expected. It was a clean white building with intact doors and windows. There were no lights or people inside. Celeste grabbed the door handle and pulled, but it clicked, locked. She grabbed a decorative rock from the garden and glanced at me before throwing it at the window.
The noise made me jump, though I knew it was coming. Fear dragged my eyes, pulling my head and body to move in a circle, scanning the area for people who might have heard the noise.
It took a few hits before the glass broke but remained in place, a jigsaw puzzle of spiderwebbed crystal. She kicked in the broken glass, stepping inside on the cubed pieces now covering the floor.
The reception area was clean and lit from the windows, organized and nice. Whoever had done this, cared about the space. I knew and respected that feeling.
Stan rushed ahead. Celeste cleared areas as I hurried after him. He got to the back, his nose leading him like a cartoon, right to the food bowls. He lapped at the water and ate until both large bowls were empty.
Splitting the cuts on my hands again and soaking the dirty bandages with more blood, I lifted a huge sack of dog food and carried it to the front door. Celeste grabbed medicine and boxes of drops and things.
Then I found the lunchroom where three vending machines sat, waiting for someone to come and rob them. Hurrying to the front, I grabbed that rock and raced to the machines. I smashed in the glass, sending it flying. It wasn't like the cubes at the front door, this was jagged and sharp. Stan watched me. “Stay back, buddy. You don't want to get glass in your paws.”
“Tell me there’s licorice.” Celeste hurried in after the noise.
“There is.”
“Thank God! Let me get it, you’re bleeding again. We need to clean those wounds.” She grabbed a few bags from the front and filled them, taking every single item from the machines. All the water, soda, junk food, and chips.
We checked all the vehicles for an unlocked door, but all were locked. And there were no blueberries. We checked the drawers for keys, pressing the fobs of the two we found. One of them worked. Celeste squealed in delight.
We loaded the car with food and Stan and drove back across the parking lot to the clinic.
When w
e parked, Celeste hurried inside, coming back with gauze and tape and salve and cleaner I knew would smell like alcohol. “This is going to hurt.”
“It already hurts, just do it.” I held out my Frankenstein wrapped hands, watching them tremble as she pulled off the old bandages we’d handmade. Her fingers trembled like mine as she unscrewed the cap from the bottle.
This was about to get worse before it got better, so I took a deep inhale and nodded.
She poured the liquid over my hands as I gritted my teeth and tried not to scream. A forced, angry sound rose from inside me as my hands burned and ached in a way I’d never felt before.
“I’m so sorry, Zo.” She hurried, wiping and cleaning until there were just hands and a few deep cuts. The majority of it was scrapes but two could have used a couple stitches.
She cleaned until the blood and dirt and filthy rag bits were gone. She rubbed antibacterial salve on, soothing at least fifty percent of the pain. Most of it faded as she wrapped and taped my wounds.
“Thanks.” I cradled them to my chest for a moment, noting the heat coming off the bandages.
It took a few minutes before I could relax with just the dull ache that was left behind.
“How’s everyone else in there?” I asked after she climbed back in, her hands smelling of alcohol.
“Good. Tasha is run off her feet, but it’s going quickly.”
We sat in silence, staring at the medical building until Rozzy came out with a cast and crutches. It was like a normal, real-world occurrence. Your friend broke their leg, got a cast and crutches, and you picked them up out front.
Celeste held a bag of licorice out the window, earning an arched eyebrow from Rozzy as she clicked over to us, awkwardly.
Celeste hopped out, opening the door. Rozzy got in the back, peering into the bags of snacks on the floor that hadn’t fit in the trunk. “Holy balls. Did you raid a store?”
“No. The vet had three vending machines. Well stocked. Junk-food haven,” Celeste said as she bit into a rope of red licorice and sighed.
