Melt (Book 8): Hold

by Pike, JJ

  “I thought there was a feast?” Josephine was faking friendship, pretending to be interested in what they did. Then again, this first trial was a masterful test of character and she hadn’t worked it out. He’d designed it to weed out the very weakest who applied to join the community. To have a feast laid out before you and then be denied all food wasn’t a harsh exam by any means, but Alistair had been shocked by the number of people who fell by the wayside when faced with the fact that they were going to have to earn their meals.

  “They get two minutes at the food tables when they’ve run ten miles.”

  Josephine snorted. “Oh, like boot camp? They don’t sit down or use knives and forks. Have you ever seen footage of the carnage? Young men and women just shoveling food into their mouths as they move down the line? It’s genius. They’re going to love it. Nicely done, Alistair.” She touched him again. This time, out in the open and in front of everyone, there was no shock. No intimacy. Only revulsion. She shouldn’t have done anything so familiar. They weren’t friends. He’d been wrong to waste so much time on her.

  But she made one point that was worth considering.

  Soldiers—even hungry, tired soldiers who’d been stuck in a convoy with their sick comrades—weren’t going to fall short at this early hurdle. It was the later games where they’d be tested. Alistair held up his hand.

  Kurt gave the orders and the referees stepped in, halting the sprint.

  “Time is short,” he said. “We’re going to move up the trials.” He turned to Josephine. “Fire or ice?”

  She shrugged.

  “You’re the guest of honor. You get to choose.”

  “Ice, I guess.”

  Alistair smiled, inside and out. “Ice it is.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Aggie had been sitting on the porch listening to Widget’s broadcast for ten minutes. He had a drawl. Not exactly the same as Jim’s but similar. It was relaxing to listen to. If you didn’t pay attention to the words. If you actively ignored the content and allowed the melody of his voice to wash over you, you might imagine Patsy Cline or Merle Haggard serenading you from the Great Beyond.

  But that wasn’t the sensible thing to do. Now wasn’t the time to drift off and daydream. She needed to pay close attention to what was going on. The flesh-eating bacteria was on the rampage. Highways, bridges, and buildings were collapsing left and right. There were contaminated watersheds—Widget rattled off a list of names—poisoned rivers; dead fish; birds on the wing; closed borders…and on and on and on.

  She checked her hands. Listening to Widget had gotten her all wound up. Her cuts, as far as she could tell, were just bramble scratches with the amount of swelling you’d expect. The fish had freaked her out. She wished she could turn back the clock and not touch it. The scales had sloughed off in her hand as if they were already detached from the muscle below. It was gross. Then the garage had doubled her panic, with melting shoes and tires and her uniform all smeared in goo.

  Anyway.

  She tucked her hands under her armpits. If she had contracted the disease there was nothing she could do about it. She’d watch and wait.

  She looked down the path. Where the heck were Mom and Betsy? What was taking so long? Fran was dead. There was nothing the nurse or her mother could do for her. Oh, they were probably burying her. Mom would want that.

  She checked the sky. It was an ordinary August day. Or was it September already? Either way, the sky didn’t tell her much, other than it was past midday and she needed to be moving. How much longer should she wait?

  Wrong question. Why was she waiting? She had already reattached Floofy to Indie with a nice quick-release knot, just in case someone got spooked and she had to uncouple them in a hurry. All she had to do was add Pippy and they could go. Mom would understand. She’d find Hedwig, get antibiotics for Paul, make sure Petra picked Midge up on her way past, deliver the supplies in Hedwig’s van to the caves, and be back in time to collect Mom and Betsy.

  She got up and ran towards the barn.

  Being in action was so much better than sitting around. Pippy was happy to see her, which was kinda sad. Pippy was only ever glad to see Midge. The goat followed her without any protest and allowed herself to be tied to Floofy. This was one of those times Aggie wished she had her phone. A horse, an alpaca, a goat—all daisy-chained together with reins and rope—being led by a girl in camo. I mean, that was a decent picture, right?

  She mounted Indie and that’s when the fun began. Indie wanted to go-go-go, but Floofy had other ideas. Floofy was contentedly munching whatever she could reach, oblivious to Aggie’s pleas. Aggie spent ten minutes trying to get Floofy to move, but without anything to bribe the alpaca with there was no way that was happening.

  Right. Well. Shoot. How was she going to get the animals to do a cross-country hike with her if she couldn’t even get them out of Betsy’s front driveway? The horse trailer had been burned along with their cabin and neither Betsy nor Jo had anything that could transport a large animal. There’d be someone within a five-mile radius who had a trailer, but would that make it across the fields and streams?

  No.

  Okay. Take care of the antibiotics and transport problem first, then work out what to do with Floofy. Pippy would have trotted behind her, but why move that slowly? She’d come at this all wrong and lost precious time. She didn’t want to spend half an hour getting all the reins unhooked and whatnot so she removed Floofy’s saddle and tied that to a post. She wasn’t going to be long. Pippy and Floofy had been bunking close to one another for years. They could cope with an hour in the driveway. She found a bucket in Pippy’s barn that still had some water in it and lugged that out so the animals wouldn’t get thirsty.

  Finally. She was free to ride.

  The first mile was bliss; just her and Indie, as fast as the wind and just as free. She spotted some humans at the beginning of mile two and adjusted course. They could be—no, probably were—armed. No point inviting danger.

  Damn.

  Wow.

  She’d left her gun in the woods. Thank God that Mom had been out of it. She’d have her hide if she’d seen that. Aggie had officially lost count of how many times she’d done something that was either counter to her training or just plain stupid. She was so close to her convoy she didn’t need to turn back. She’d be closing in on Jim and Sean soon. She hugged Indie’s neck and urged her on. The ground was firm and the ride smooth. They had to slow to cross a stream, but there were no dead fish, at least none she could see, but for the next 15 minutes it was plain sailing.

  She spotted a man in a checked shirt leaning on someone in a ratty blue t-shirt. She was looking at Jim and Sean, for sure. The men’s clothes didn’t give them any kind of cover but even she hadn’t been thinking in terms of hiding from other people who were on the run; she’d only been worried about getting to the mines. Oh, well. She’d debrief with Dad (please let him be okay the next time I see him) and they’d critique what she could have done better. There was always room to learn and improve.

  The guys didn’t have a stretcher between them. How wonderful that Petra had stopped and collected Midge already. And what a relief; to have someone else thinking about logistics for a change. Her older sister was stepping up her game and Aggie liked it.

  She slowed to a trot as she approached the men. “Thanks, guys.”

  “Don’t mention it.” Jim was sweating like crazy, his face completely beet red. She’d been wrong to send him out with Sean.

  “He refused to go in the Humvee.” Sean was strong enough to hold Jim up, but even with all that support Jim wasn’t doing well.

  “There wasn’t room.”

  “Petra offered to get out and walk.” Sean smiled. Yep, he’d have liked that.

  “You don’t let a pregnant lady walk in the middle of summer and this heat.” Jim was not what Petra’s friends would have called “PC” but Aggie loved him for it. It was chivalrous of him not to take Petra’s seat in the Humv
ee but he was going to die of heat exhaustion if they didn’t do something to help him.

  “Want to ride with me?” she said.

  “I’d love to.” Jim’s smile could light up a country mile. “But the motorcycle ride about did it for me. No more jiggling up and down. I need to take it slow. This young whippersnapper has muscle and energy enough for both of us. We’ll be fine. You ride on ahead.”

  Aggie circled them, trying to decide what to do. “I’m coming back with Hedwig. We’ll pick you up.”

  “She’s a good one. I’d keep her on the team if I were you.”

  It hadn’t occurred to Aggie to cut Hedwig loose. She’d made it abundantly clear she was a team player from the moment she arrived. She displayed the kind of badassery Aggie wished everyone had. Indie stomped and blew a couple of rounds of air out of her nostrils. She was ready to go again.

  “Where’s that wife of mine?”

  Aggie steered Indie back to the guys. “She’s helping Mom…” They didn’t know about Fran and she didn’t want the story to spread and grow. That kind of bad news was exactly what took people down when they were already in a compromised state. “She’s helping Mom.”

  “They’d best get a move on.” Jim looked up. The sky was almost clear; the clouds long and wispy and way up high. The wind, though. That was gathering speed. “I don’t want her out in this…”

  Aggie didn’t want any of her people out for a second longer than they needed to be. “Me neither.”

  “On you go, then. Don’t let us hold you up. We want you back to base to gather Alice and Betsy in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” He held his hand in the small of his back. He was in a lot of pain.

  Jim would never ask Sean to stop, she knew that. But she could ask for him. Jim’s non-PC-ness ran to allowing girls of 15 seeing what he needed and arranging for it to happen. “Why don’t you take a break? Wait for us.”

  “No…” Jim began to protest.

  “That’s a good idea,” said Sean. He pointed to the trees to their right. “We’re going to find a nice shady spot and wait for you.” He saluted, letting Aggie know he had it under control and she took off.

  Though Aggie had turned slightly east to avoid the strangers, Indie got them back on track and whizzing towards the mines in no time. Twenty minutes of being in her happy place—anywhere in nature especially on horseback—and Aggie spotted the Humvee. They were making good time.

  She didn’t want to stop, but she wanted them to know the plan. She slowed and trotted alongside them.

  Petra, who loved Indie almost as much as Aggie did, shifted down to a crawl and wound down her window.

  “Any trouble?” They’d had to have crossed a couple of streams by now. The vehicle looked muddy, but none the worse for wear.

  Petra shook her head. “It’s a bit cramped back there, but Paul’s still out of it and Midge has been singing to us.”

  Bill leaned around Petra. “Where’s Alice? Where’s your mom?”

  Could she lie to him? Say Mom was on the way? They didn’t do that. The Everlees had a code of honor and she and Dad were strict practitioners of “honesty at all times”.

  “She’ll be along in the next wave.” That was true. Not accurate, but true.

  “What does that mean, the next wave?”

  Wow. He was back. He’d sniffed out her evasion. “We’re out of vehicles. I need to unload the van Hedwig is driving and take it back to the house.”

  “Did you tell her?”

  “Tell her what, Dad?” She wasn’t used to him being so intense. She longed for a corny dad joke more than she could say.

  “That I have to talk to her? It’s urgent Aggie. It can’t wait. It’s my fault. She has to know…”

  Aggie nodded. She wasn’t going to lie to him, but she couldn’t tell him what he wanted to hear. “Like I said, she’s coming in the next wave.” She spurred Indie forward, leaving the Humvee idling in a field. Petra would get it. The horse might get spooked if they got too close. She’d give Aggie a head start.

  Hedwig was practically all the way to the mines by the time Aggie caught up with her. They nodded in greeting as Aggie passed her. The entrance to the mine was a big, fancy, industrial gate with an abandoned guard post and run down building where the admin staff would have worked. Aggie bypassed all that and went north and west and found the shaft she planned to use as their means of ingress and egress. They were going to leave the front doors closed. That way it would look like no one was home. She found some water, let Indie drink, removed her bridle, and used her lead rope to walk her to the tree they’d been using as their tether tree and tied her to a low branch, telling her all the while what a good girl she was and how she was loosening her girth so she’d be more comfortable and that, as soon as she could, she was going to find her good, good, bestest girl some hay.

  When Indie was settled, Aggie kicked back and waited for Hedwig.

  It wasn’t long before the van pulled up.

  “We’re going to unload as fast as we can and then I’ll head back.”

  “Did you see the doctor and nurse on your way out here?” Hedwig didn’t bother with small talk.

  Aggie knew she liked her for a reason. She shook her head. “You mean Nigel and Fred?”

  “I tied that summbitch up so he wouldn’t be able to wiggle free, but your man Nigel must have freed him. They were walking this way. They don’t know about the mines, do they?”

  They did. No way Nigel would bring Doctor Fred—who’d tried to trick them into giving him a supply of potassium iodide and then taken off with most of their medical supplies—back into the fold. Nigel would be allowed to rejoin them in a New York minute, but Fred never would. If it hadn’t been for Hedwig they’d have been stripped of all their essential meds.

  “Why don’t you stand guard in case they are headed this way? You sure you didn’t see them? Because they were on course an hour ago.”

  Aggie had seen a couple of strangers, but she’d given them a wide berth, so there was no way of knowing if she’d passed Nigel and not known it. “I’m going to take the van and head back.”

  “Mind if I tag along? I’ve been on the road for a long time. Since we left the camp. I could do with some decent company.”

  Aggie nodded. Why not. If the people she’d passed were Nigel and Fred most of her crew would be safely ensconced in the mines by the time the medics got there. No harm in her and Hedwig heading back. Hedwig could drive the van. That way she could take Indie.

  Was that fair to her horse? Could she do that distance twice? No, she needed to leave Indie here and collect Floofy and Pippy this time. Maybe she’d ride Floofy. She laughed to herself. Another picture-worthy moment. “My first time riding an alpaca.”

  What was she forgetting? She’d slipped up so many times in the last 48 hours, she needed to stop and think. Oh, right. Antibiotics for Paul. They were a must.

  And.a.flipping.weapon.you.moron.

  She wasn’t often that hard on herself but she wasn’t often that stupid. She deserved a good telling off. She went back into the first cave, where they’d stacked all the bags. This was the moment she wished she’d been more methodical. It would take forever to look through everything they’d hauled in from the van.

  “What are you looking for?” Hedwig was beside her, ready to help.

  “Antibiotics and guns.” The irony did not escape her.

  “Gimme a sec.” Hedwig waded in, opened three bags and handed Aggie four strips of meds. “They’re all broad-spectrum. Penicillin, of course, though there’s been an uptick in resistance. Tetracycline. I know about this because it’s used to treat UTI’s. Sorry. TMI. Oh, well. All in together girls! It has other uses, too. I just know about it because I’m prone.” She paused. “Okay. Tell me know if you’re a ‘less is more’ or ‘bring it on’ type.”

  Aggie smiled. No one had ever asked it like that before. “I don’t say a lot, but I listen well, so I guess that means both?”

  “You’re
not easily grossed out or stuff?”

  Aggie shook her head. “The opposite.”

  “Cool. So that one…” She pointed at the Levofloxacin. “Will give you the runs big time. Ditto the Cephalexin. But, like I said, they’re all broad-spectrum and will be good for Paul. They’re for Paul, right?”

  Aggie muttered something under her breath about being grateful, but Hedwig barreled on. “You wanted a weapon? Come with me. I kept some in the van, along with a stacked meds bag, because I want a weapon and a way to mop up to hand at all times. Men are pigs. Not all of them. I know you know a bunch of cool cats. But the others. Pigs.” She turned and spat on the ground. Strong words. Aggie wasn’t sure she wanted to know what had caused her to be that angry. Like, she wasn’t saying “all men” but it was pretty close.

  Hedwig handed her a Ruger GP100. Tough little gun. It felt good in her hand.

  “Want something else? Just in case?”

  Aggie nodded and took the Taurus Tracker that Hedwig held out for her. It was a hand cannon. The woman knew her handguns.

  Aggie secured her seatbelt, guns in her lap as the van roared into action. She’d never been in a roaring van before, but then she’d never met anyone quite like Hedwig.

  “Your brother tells me you’re a sharpshooter. Best in the country, he says. No one can beat you. You’re going to be keeping us safe and fed. He couldn’t say enough good things about you.”

  Aggie blushed. Paul had said all those nice things about her? To a total stranger? Go figure.

  “He’s a good man, your brother. He and Jim got me out of the camp when I was a wreck. I’d just totally shut down. If I can do anything to help him, I’m going to do it.”

  “Thank you for getting him home.”

  “Oh, we got each other home. He was a star. Bit out of it for a while there, but we were all running on empty. They barely fed the people in the camp. They fed us, of course. That was part of the deal. We were fed—and, in case you were wondering, no I didn’t sell my skin for a slice of pie; the rest of the deal was they wouldn’t kill us if we did as we were told—but, yes, they kept the girls fed and watered.” She rolled up and down the ditches as if they were nothing at all. She was a good driver, if a bit scary. “Pigs,” she said. “Every last one of them. There were some who didn’t join in, but they didn’t stop it, either. They might be junior pigs, but they’re still pigs in my book.”