There were voices coming from the main room of the clinic. A woman’s soprano carried above the rest and it didn’t belong to Doctor Reynolds. The petite stranger stood at the service counter. High cheekbones, a straight nose and startling, blue eyes made her face elegant. Her red blouse had a black stripe running stylishly down its right side. Two men flanked her. Both wore stony expressions that complimented their grey and black shirts, which, in turn, matched their pants and boots.
In the attractive woman’s hands was a handheld, the screen facing Maggie Reynolds. Kat’s smiling image graced the display although the name “Kallista Pendleton” appeared underneath the picture. Kat couldn’t remember such a picture ever being taken. “Have you seen this person?” the red-topped woman asked, her eyes roving the clinic as she spoke.
Reynolds looked at the picture thoughtfully before answering, “No. Never been a patient of mine.”
“Are you certain?” the woman pressed with an unbalanced smile. Her voice sounded skeptical.
Reynolds leaned against her counter. “Yeah, I’m sure.” She looked past the threesome irritably. “Now, do you mind? You’re blocking my window.”
The woman didn’t move, staring coolly at Reynolds with mesmerizing, blue eyes.
Reynolds snorted angrily and pushed off the counter. She muttered curses as she stalked her way to the back room. The petite woman barked a short, disturbing laugh at the doctor’s retreat.
“Well, Lolz?” asked one of the agents.
The woman waved a beckoning hand and walked a short distance from the service window before stopping to look back at the clinic. Reynolds had not yet emerged from her bedroom. “She knows her,” Lolz stated confidently. “In fact, the good doctor has been thinking about our friend very recently.” She cocked her head slightly and the lopsided grin reappeared. “Within the last forty-eight hours for sure.”
“That’s it?” the other agent asked, clearly annoyed. “I thought you could get more than that.”
The grin dropped in an instant and the woman regarded her companion icily. “It doesn’t work like that. If I don’t want the target to realize I’ve linked with her, I have to be…” She searched pensively for the correct word. “Circumspect, discreet… sagacious, if you will.” Her smile had crept onto her lips again.
The man wiped sweat from his forehead and cursed at the sun. “Is this good enough? Do we need to keep looking?”
Lolz giggled as she nodded once firmly. “Oh, this will do,” she judged. “We’ll come back tonight, when they’ve huddled around their fire barrels and take the doctor. Once I get her back to the convention hall, I won’t need to be as gentle.”
“Thank God,” the agent said in relief. “We’ve questioned close to fifty, separate people in this heat. Why couldn’t you search the groups?”
The woman turned and paced away from the clinic. Her trailing words held no compassion, no emotion of any kind. “I can only link to one at a time.”
Kat’s fading view of the woman walking away in the sunlight was replaced by the relative darkness of the clinic’s back room as her eyelids fluttered open. Taking a moment to rub her eyes, she groggily scanned the room. In the dim light, she could see a handwritten note pinned to the curtain over the doorway. From beyond the fabric barrier, distant conversations mixed with laughter drifted to her ears.
She rolled smoothly off the bed and stood to stretch. Her ribs felt much better. Amazing what sleeping in a bed will do for the body, she told herself as she walked to the curtain for the note. It was difficult to read in the darkened room.
Kat,
You were asleep by the time I returned. Your body needs rest so I didn’t wake you. You can spend the night here. I took care of it. There is some food and water on the desktop. Do NOT leave the bedroom. It’s important that the market guards don’t know you’re here. I’ll sleep on my chair tonight so go back to bed after you’ve eaten. Sleep well.
Maggie
Kat pulled the curtain slightly to the side to allow more light to enter the room. None did and she realized the sun had set some time ago. I slept through the entire afternoon. It’s already night. Her heart raced at the implications. They’re coming for Maggie!
The distant banter beyond the clinic turned into yelling. A single gunshot echoed in the market, followed by screams.
Adrenalin coursed through Kat’s body as she spun in Reynolds’ bedroom and raced to her satchel hanging on the back of the desk chair. She pulled out a Jamison, thumbed off the safety in effortless motion and ran through the curtain.
She hit the side door of the clinic at nearly full speed. It burst open and she turned to race down the cul-de-sac. The market appeared deserted. Distant glows from fires illuminated the streets but the rows of closed shops gave Kat no hint as to where to search for her friend.
She sprinted to the main street and looked in both directions. From the right, a small group of people ran toward her. To the left, a few vendors huddled in a circle close to a fire barrel. They seemed to be standing over someone on the ground.
Kat charged to her left. Approaching the fire barrel, she skidded to a stop in a cloud of dust and found Stew lying on his back, gasping for air. A crimson oval expanded on the center of his yellow shirt. “What happened?” Kat nearly shouted.
The group looked to Kat in near unison and each vendor wore the same stunned expression. “Three people—” one said.
“I thought it was four,” someone interrupted.
“Three people walked right up to us and grabbed Maggie Reynolds. Maggie just collapsed as they approached and they just took her!” The man speaking was clearly in shock. “Stew started after them and one of them turned and gunned him down.” He looked down at the injured market guard and back at Kat. “Is he going to be okay?”
She examined Stew more closely, remembering her triage training. His breaths were shallow and spasmodic. The red circle on his shirt was joined by a pool of blood under him. She moved next to the man and knelt.
“W—Who are you?” asked a woman in the circle.
Kat ignored the question and tried to pull Stew’s shirt up his chest to see the wound. The man grunted loudly in pain. She stopped and instead slid her free hand under the shirt and felt. The wound in his chest was roughly the size of a small coin. She swallowed grimly and ordered, “Help me lift him up a little so I can feel his back.”
Two men knelt on either side of Kat and slipped their hands under the stricken guard. The woman standing over them gasped loudly and exclaimed, “She’s, she’s got a gun!” She took several steps backward, pointing at the weapon in Kat’s hand, and began to scream louder. The men assisting Kat started to scramble away.
Kat stated firmly, “I’m Doctor Reynolds’ personal bodyguard! Now, you can either run from me or help me save this man!” She tried to slip her hand between Stew and the ground but it wouldn’t be possible without using her other hand to lift him up. There’s no way I’m letting go of this gun, she told herself.
One of the men looked from Kat to her pistol. Finally, he moved back into position and helped ease Stew over to his side.
Kat inhaled sharply and slid her hand underneath the blood-soaked shirt to Stew’s back. She immediately felt a ruinous mess. The exit wound was a crater nearly as wide as her hand. She felt slick chunks of tattered flesh interspersed among broken pieces of bone. Nobody can survive this. “Ease him back down,” she ordered. She pointed at her helper with a hand now covered in a glove of scarlet. “Take your shirt off and put direct pressure to his chest. Someone else use their shirt as a pillow for him.”
Kat leaned over the fallen man and peered into his eyes. Already, Stew’s face was growing slack and his eyes were glazed. “Stew,” she said, “I think it went in and out. It’s not bad at all. We’ll get you some pain medicine and you just relax, alright?” She forced a smile to her face. “We’ll take good care of you so just rest. I’m going to get Maggie and she’s going to treat you.”
The man reached up and gave her hand a grateful squeeze. His weak smile revealed bloody teeth.
Kat stood up and addressed the shirtless man who was folding his garment under Stew’s head. “Go to the clinic. Second jar on the top shelf. Mix a spoonful of the white powder in the jar with water and have him drink it.” She looked at the group as a whole. “Where did they take Doctor Reynolds?”
The man who had been the first to speak pointed north. Kat took a final look at Stew and ran after the only person she might yet be able to help.
She reached the next intersection and searched the street for clues. The cross-lane was a minor one with carts that mostly sold scrap for recyclers. Kat peered down the narrow side street. On the west side, a lit fire barrel rested in the middle of the lane. A group of four vendors were hiding around their carts.
Kat brandished her pistol. “Which way did they go?” she demanded with a voice full of authority.
A child behind a wheel pointed further north.
Kat resumed her run. The crunching of the dirt beneath her shoes mixed with the sound of her labored breathing. Each footstep threw tiny clouds of dust. She raced past Jacob’s water well. The rhythmic sounds of her footfalls quickened when she heard the growing whine of aircar turbines ahead. Ignoring the throbbing in her side, she pumped her arms faster as she dashed for the next corner. The overpressure of the turbines catching and cycling fully to idle rebounded off the tin shacks down the street.
By the time Kat turned the corner, the vehicle was already airborne. Dust and debris expanded in a cloud of mayhem as the thrust punished the side street. Standing at the perimeter of the downblast, Kat felt her long hair flow wildly behind her like a storm siren in a gale. She raised her weapon to eye level but kept her finger off the trigger. The aircar rose above the rooftops of the market and rotated ninety degrees, toward Waytown. Its front dipped slightly and began to push forward.
Kat’s pistol tracked the car throughout its egress but she felt her shoulders slump. Save your shots. The flechette rounds will spread out so much that you may not even hit the damned thing. She growled silently in defeat as the vehicle continued to gain speed and roared from her sight.
She stood motionless, staring at the dark market’s pitiful skyline and listening to the fading noise of the turbines. When the silence of the night returned, she spun in a half-circle and marched back down the street. The red-shirted woman’s words played inside her mind: “Once we get her back to the convention hall, I won’t need to be as gentle.”
“It’s not over,” Kat promised coldly to the stagnant air. “Not by a longshot.”