Chapter 26: Tom

TOM’S LEGS HURT LIKE hell. But the disappointment in his psychologist stung like he imagined an ulcer would hurt, eating him from the inside out. He couldn’t move away from her. Couldn’t even look away from her without causing pain to fill his body.

His breathing had sped up, dropping his diaphragm and shoving his stomach out. The movement dislodged his knees and legs from their numb position they’d bent into, each breath stabbed through a few layers of nerves, but not as badly as when he turned his head to watch Dilbeck confront Dr. Parker.

The last thing Tom wanted was to sit by her. But he couldn’t move.

Major Dilbeck met Tom’s gaze, but he addressed Dr. Parker. “Do you know why you’re here, Dr. Parker?”

Rachel shook her head, but stopped mid-motion and nodded. She used the door to help her stand and faced him like she didn’t have a care in the world. Like her test hadn’t almost frozen Tom to death. “I do. The man who held me captive, Lieutenant —”

“—Gustavson, yeah, we know who he is.”

She glared but continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted, “—colonel Gustavson informed me I was wanted in correlation with my tests I designed for a project a couple years ago.”

Tom worked to slow his breathing. Stars danced in his vision while black spots spun around them.

“Do you understand we can’t take what you say at face value?” Dilbeck, winged by two men, stepped forward. “We have to take you into custody until we can figure out if it’s more beneficial for us to keep you alive or hand you over dead.”

Tom wanted to protest, or say something, anything, but his mouth had started to fill with saliva. He spit to the side, red droplets speckling his arm. He coughed. The damn tickling in the back of his throat wouldn’t go away. He coughed again. More red spots covered his skin. He closed his eyes and the red spots filled his vision.

Chapter 27: Andy

The young boy slumped to the ground, his head lulling on Rachel’s foot.

Andy wrapped his hand around Josh’s upper arm. Rachel was a handful of feet from him. Mere feet and he couldn’t run to her the way he wanted to. First, his injuries rejected the previous tackling and screamed at him in punishment. Second, the men around him each had a weapon and he had nothing. Nothing but an IV block in place and burned skin.

Josh held the tied shirt filled with IV bags in his other arm. One must have gotten punctured on impact, because a steady drip trickled from the loose corner of material to the floor.

Rachel had glanced Andy’s direction when Dilbeck had announced their presence, but she hadn’t looked again since standing. The foreign icy expression on her face and the angle of her head added a haughtiness to her distinguished height. Andy had always loved her long legs and slim waist. Two inches shorter than himself, and he felt matched pretty well.

But the woman in the doorway didn’t match him and certainly didn’t resemble his wife. Her bruised face and disarrayed hair hid more than a Halloween mask could. Hard eyes met Dilbeck’s gaze. She didn’t even acknowledge the other men with him... including her husband.

Dilbeck pointed to the fallen boy. His quiet words carried in the cement tunnel. “That’s SHOT3’s kid. We need him...” He knelt down and felt at Tom’s neck before standing again. “...for as long as he stays alive. Private, grab a gurney. There should be one in the back of the hospital receiving area.”

Hospital? Andy swiveled his head to take in the cinder block walls and solid flooring. There was nothing sterile or medical about the place. The only hospital in the area was Kootenai and all the times he’d been inside that blue building, he’d never noticed a dungeon-like section.

The man Dilbeck had pointed at took off in a jog, disappearing soundlessly around the first corner he came to.

Rachel crossed her arms. “So you’re going to keep him. And what are your plans for me?”

Dilbeck lifted his hand, palm up. “I don’t know what to do with you, Dr. Parker. If Gustavson still wants you —”

“Gustavson is dead.” Her chilly voice sliced through Dilbeck’s like ice through snow.

He cocked his head, his shoulders forward as if he expected Rachel to rush him. “What do you mean ‘dead’? How?”

“I mean not-breathing-anymore-dead.” She shrugged and lifted a fingernail to inspect. “I shot him.”

Her words spilled like ants down Andy’s spine. She discussed killing a man like she used to discuss Andy’s spending habits.

Dilbeck laughed. “Right. I’ve heard about your inability to tolerate violence.”

Rachel returned his laugh and pointed at the man who’d shown up moments before Dilbeck had found Rachel. “Who do you think freed him?”

Andy glanced at the man. He hadn’t been forthcoming with his name, but his stance didn’t have a defensive line. And even though he was covered head to foot in wounds, he didn’t hold himself like he’d had the shit kicked out of him.

A tingle of distrust scratched along Andy’s skin. Goosebumps covered his arms. Maybe his fever was returning.

Dilbeck turned and jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Rachel but directed his words toward the man. “Did she save you?”

The man nodded and cleared his throat. “Yeah, she killed the man in the room with her. I don’t know who he was.” Speaking with an accent Andy couldn’t quite place, the man didn’t focus his attention too long on Rachel, which made his avoiding her gaze that much more obvious. At least to Andy.

Rachel’s gaze flitted to him and then honed in on Dilbeck once more.

What the hell is going on? Andy knew his wife. Rachel was only a bitch when she was hiding something, which was hardly ever. When she’d returned from Rhode Island, she’d been so distant, he’d been worried about getting frostbite around her.

Drugs must still be in his system, because Dilbeck stating they had to take her into custody finally registered. Andy jerked forward, almost losing his balance, but Josh captured his arm and held him up and back from lurching at Dilbeck.

“What do you mean ‘if Gustavson’s still wants me’?” Rachel arched her eyebrow.

Crap, if Dilbeck continues treating her the way he is, Rachel’s going to start her manipulative mind games. She always ended up getting her way in fights with Andy because she’d arch her brow and then start in on her questions, trapping him. Soon he was agreeing with her and arguing against himself. He had learned to run the other direction when the eyebrow rose.

“If Gustavson had been alive and still wanted you, I would need to contact —”

Rachel sliced her hand through the air. “You mean, you would have turned me over to him, right? Isn’t that treasonous behavior, Major? To turn over an asset to the enemy? Or are you just trying to save your ass here?”

Dilbeck’s husky voice turned to a rasp. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I lost my wife in this crap that NATO started to get to your tests. Yours! If you think for one minute that I’m unpatriotic, I might as well turn you over to them now.” He waited for her to drop her hand before he continued. “Your tests are being used on a global scale. We’re not talking about one or two patients here, we’re talking about the drop-and-return bio-weapons the biophysicists in your group cooked up. We’re talking about the enzymes that eat flesh but nothing else organic that the biologists and chemists developed. We’re talking about the Rhode Island Psychology Project that you and your damn friends created to design mind games so that after all the rest of the weapons were used and all the innocent people had been tortured, scared, and in other chaotic states, they would be turned into feeble and moldable peasants.” His voice rose and he spat the last word.

Rachel’s lack of response seemed to piss Dilbeck off further. Hair moving with his arms waving her direction, he ordered. “Detain the doctor, please, gentleman.”

Squeak, squeak, squeak. A gurney announced its arrival before the shiny handrails emerged around the corner. The man who’d been sent after the rolling bed trotted behind it, slowing to just outside the doorway.

Dilbeck knelt beside the boy and Rachel moved into the hallway. A man moved to stand beside her, but didn’t touch her. She ignored Andy and Josh.

The rest of the men with Dilbeck joined him and they moved the teenager onto the gurney, bringing his injured legs into view as well as the blood down his chin and on his shirt and arm.

He couldn’t be much older than Cole and his condition slammed the possible condition of Andy’s children to the forefront of his mind. He’d been worried about surviving, convinced they were safe with Rachel. But if Rachel was in the same situation he was in, where the hell were their kids?

Chapter 28: Brenda

The gun went off before Brenda could spin around. Jenny stumbled into Brenda’s arms, her mouth forming an O. Brenda turned. Everything moved in slow motion. Her hand holding the gun was lodged under Jenny’s weight.

David smiled. “I don’t need her. And I don’t need you.”

Dick repositioned his handgun, the dark hole like another eye aiming for Brenda’s forehead. The belt lay on the ground at the base of the pole. How the hell had they gotten free?

A boom ricocheted off the surrounding trees. Dick’s smirk shifted to a shocked grimace. Bright red bloomed from the center of his chest. He toppled backwards, his boots scraping on the rough cement.

Farnham shifted his stance, lifting a six-inch blade in his right hand and dropping his right foot back. He crouched, sparing no second glance for his fallen comrade.

The click and metallic slide of a bolt action rifle filled the silent clearing. Farnham’s gaze shifted and Brenda followed its direction.

Cole, armed with the firearm, walked steadily across the dirty grass, the stock pressed to his shoulder and his head hunched to watch from the sight. “Go ahead, Farnham. See what happens.”

Comfortable that Cole had David under control, Brenda lowered Jenny to the ground. She pushed the hair from her gaunt cheeks and chapped lips.

Jenny’s breath came in shallow gasps and she spasmed, but her grip was strong on Brenda’s wrist. “I... my mom,” she coughed, “They didn’t make it, did they?”

Brenda leaned close to Jenny. She’d seen the signs more times than she cared to count. Even in a state-of-the-art hospital, Jenny wouldn’t make it. Brenda pushed her hand on the crimson hole to the left of her sternum. Lung shot. The girl was going to drown. Brenda offered a slight smile that didn’t reach her tear-filled eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know if they did or not. I wish I could help you. I wish I could make this better.” She sniffed. “You did good, Jenny. Thank you.”

Jenny’s answering smile barely stretched her lips. Her eyes closed and her voice gurgled with her small laugh which ended on another cough. She opened her eyes wide and stared at Brenda. “Do you believe in Heaven? Or God?”

And honestly, Brenda didn’t know. She’d never been faced with the question in a personal way. She’d avoided the topic at the Catholic hospital where she’d worked, allowed patients to believe as they wanted, went about her own hell of a life assuming everyone had something they had to deal with. But she never considered the question in such a stark, in-your-face moment.

She spoke with conviction. “I don’t know. But I do know that if there’s a God or a Heaven, heck, both, you’re an awesome enough girl, you’ll go straight there. Your parents will be there and you won’t hurt anymore. That sounds pretty great, right?” And it did. The peace of mind behind the possibility of its existence strengthened Brenda’s resolve. When the end of the world was over, Brenda would have to look into this God business. Some things were better left for tomorrow.

The slight nod Jenny gave was so subtle, Brenda would have missed it had she not been so close to the young girl.

Jenny’s grip loosened.

Brenda pressed harder on her chest.

Jenny’s tension slackened and her head leaned back off Brenda’s arm, her hand falling from Brenda’s wrist. Her mouth fell open just a bit.

As far as Brenda knew, no one had moved or spoken since Cole’s orders to David. She gave herself another moment to sit with the dead girl she’d been captured with and fought for release with. The girl had been a find. A true find.

And she’d been abused since she’d been captured by the pseudo-militia led by Farnham.

Anger at the unjustified treatment of Brenda by men, Jenny by men, the group that included her nephew by men, brewed and overflowed. She carefully laid Jenny on the ground, closing her eyes and mouth.

She stood and faced Farnham who hadn’t adjusted his fighting stance with a rifle aimed square on him.

Holding fast to the muzzle of the gun, Brenda pistol-whipped the militia leader with the butt of her gun in mid-step, thrusting all of her weight behind the swing. The hit connected beside his eye socket and he slumped to the ground.

“I have to be sure this time, Farnham.” She pulled back her hind leg and kicked him, hard, in the stomach. He didn’t move. She turned to the group and held out her hands, the gun clutched in one. “Well, he’s down this time. I don’t care if he’s dead or not, but I would like to get out of here.”

A spare glance tossed at Cole, Brenda then met the gaze of every person she could see. “You’re welcome to come with me, but I have a specific goal in mind. I need to return to a house and get some other people and then I have a mission in town.” She held up her hand at the wave of murmurs when she mentioned going into town. “I’m not asking any of you to join me on that journey. All I’m saying is I’m heading down – out of here – closer to town and to a road that will take you further into the mountains. You’re welcome to join me as far as you’d like or you can go your own way. Whatever your decision, I would make it before the rest of the gang returns.” She inclined her head and turned from Jenny’s body to face Cole.

He crossed the few feet left between him and his aunt. She wrapped him in a hug. “Cole. Your mother has been worried sick.”

Cole groaned. “I wanted to go, do something. I thought they were with Major Dilbeck, the guy Tom and Josh were talking to on the radio, but...” He eyed Farnham. “They weren’t interested in saving anyone. All they wanted to do was loot houses and stores.”

“And rape the women, it looks like.” Brenda muttered. But Dilbeck? Wasn’t that the man from the radio? So, he’d been legitimate.

Her nephew nodded. “They did that a lot and made some of us watch. We couldn’t do anything. I felt so bad for some of the girls.” He glanced at the last few women who had rallied around the teenagers freed from the trailer. Older women wrapped their arms around the young and cooed to them and told them everything was about to get better. Cole lowered his voice to a whisper. “They killed some of them, too.” A shadow passed over his face and Brenda left that vein of topic untouched.

She pulled away and looked into his eyes. “Look, I left Kayli and Beau at a lake house on Fernan. We need to get them and get them home.”

Cole grasped her bicep. “Alone? They’re alone?” He tugged on her arm. “We have to get them, Aunt Brenda. The other eight are out looking for more people to add to the group.” Desperation clenched his jaw. “Hurry.”

“Okay.” Brenda turned to the rest of the group. “I’m leaving and taking my dirt bike and one of their quads. Does anyone know what else they have? We need weapons and rides.”

The same woman spoke up, her arm cradling a young teenager with pigtails. “They have a shed of sorts filled with all that stuff behind the trailers. But it’s locked.” She rubbed the girls back and rocked back and forth with her.

“I like locks. They’re fun to shoot at.” Brenda grinned. “If you’re coming with me, we need to move. Let’s find the shed and get out of here.”

She followed the group behind the center of the half-circle ring and took in the sight of a well-built shed with a large padlock on its double over-sized doors. The metal of the lock was thick and her handgun, as cool as it was, wouldn’t penetrate. “Cole, why don’t you take a shot at that lock for me?”

Cole shifted his gun to his shoulder and aimed. The group collectively ducked. Brenda didn’t budge. Hell, if the bullet bounced off and was meant to hit her, it wouldn’t matter if she ducked, hid, or flew. She tapped her foot. Cole looked her way, his finger poised over the trigger.

Brenda lifted her brow. “Go ahead.”

The boom was louder than it’d been by the pavilion. She reached up and pushed on the side of her ear. Jeesh.

Ting. The lock fell from the door. A splintered hole replaced it and Brenda glanced over her shoulder. The noise wasn’t the problem unless the missing eight men were nearby. Most likely they had transportation of their own and there wasn’t much in the shed. But she could hope.

And hope paid off. Cole swung the doors open and morning light spilled onto multiple quads, a few side-by-sides which ran similar to four-wheelers but looked like roughed up golf carts, a handful of dirt bikes, and walls lined with firearms of different sizes and actions – bolt, hinge/break, lever, and pump were all represented. Metal military-style boxes stacked beneath each section of guns.

“Hell, they’re organized, aren’t they?” Brenda breathed. The find had a reverent feel, no less rushed, but reverent. “Grab what you can carry and let’s see if we can pack up the vehicles with extra. This would be a terrific find for the real militia.”

“Do you think we can find them?” A man spoke from the edge of the group, his hand resting on the plastic of an Arctic Cat four-wheeler.

“I know we can.” Brenda didn’t need to disclose the specifics of her plans, but the militia had to need people and these people were able and willing.

A couple of the people paired up, but overall, each one claimed their own ride. The engines rumbled and chugged in a jumbled collection of smooth starts. One by one, they rolled out, claiming a spot on the short grass. The motors idled and the people reconverged on the shed to obtain as many weapons as they could.

They stood taller, their faces stronger. Brenda took note of the difference in their demeanors as they packed and stuffed alongside her. An extra four-wheeler hadn’t been grabbed by anyone. Did Brenda want to struggle with the damn over-sized dirt bike? Hell, no. She could carry the kids and more weapons on a four-wheeler.

The 700’s camouflage plastic had scratches on the sides above the tires. It’d been driven through low brush. She piled boxes of ammo on the front racks, careful to stack them between the bars. Rifles stacked up neatly on the back. She returned to the wall for pistols and semi-automatics but stopped on her return to gape.

Blocky but solid, the trailer hooked to the four-wheeler had so many different possibilities, Brenda’s hope soared. She could carry the kids. A lot of them. And more guns. And food.

More boxes filled the trailer, but she left room for the kids.

The Polaris started like it’d been waiting for her. The walls were empty and the floor would be bare as soon as she pulled the ATV out.

Over the collective rumble, Brenda whistled and called out. “Head south toward Fernan Lake.”

The teenage girls all rode behind someone older or bigger. Brenda couldn’t imagine which one Jenny would’ve ridden behind. She’d been the kind of girl to drive herself. But... Brenda shook her head.

Riding between the trailers, Brenda avoided the area where Jenny’s body was but slowed as her four-wheeler approached the two four-wheelers and her abandoned dirt bike. It seemed a shame to waste the rides, but if she or her group couldn’t ride them, nobody else would either. Especially David, if he came to.

She raised her gun and shot out the tires. But that didn’t seem like enough. A bullet in the general direction of each motor satisfied her need to handicap the bastard who’d shot Jenny and damaged her nephew. As much as they needed food, Brenda didn’t want to linger to search for the likely stockpile – eight armed men with similar thoughts to David’s didn’t bode well for their group.

If only Rachel knew what was going on, she’d be pissed she left to get meds. Brenda was getting all the action.

Some things never change.

Chapter 29: Rachel

The metal seatbelt dug into her lower spine. “You don’t have to handcuff me to the damn bar. I’m not going anywhere.” Rachel shifted on the bench seat of the Jeep. The secured seatbelt had lost the majority of its effectiveness when they’d shoved the shoulder strap behind her back and strapped her hands to the roll-bar overhead.

Dilbeck continued facing forward, failing to acknowledge her words with a glance. “You’ll be fine.” He returned to his low toned conversation with the man in the driver’s seat. A word here and there carried over the bumps and engine noises, but not enough to put something comprehensive together.

Rachel quit trying to make sense of it all and watched the scenery out the vinyl window. They passed bombed-out car shells and cars that could’ve been driven off any minute. In neighborhoods some houses had had the shit kicked out of them while their next door neighbors could be barbequing in the backyard, untouched.

In an ambulance behind them, Dilbeck had packed Tom, Andy, Josh, and Daniel guarded only by a man driving. In front of the Jeep Rachel rode in, two motorcyclists drove with guns slung over their backs.

They’d left the hospital from the ambulance loading area. Half the blue building had been decimated. Rachel hadn’t looked to see if the surviving part had been the patients’ wing or the parking garage. Nothing she could do if it was the former or the latter. She’d probably only be worth something as an asset to trade.

Her eyebrows drew together. NATO members chased her for her torture devices. She’d neglected to complete half of the studies because they were unimaginable theories that she’d been too terrified to try on herself. If she couldn’t face them, it didn’t seem fair to subject some of her peers to the same horror.

A few she’d never even shared with Daniel.

When she’d arrived at Rhode Island two years before, after orientation and thirty minutes of signing waivers and papers of liability and copyright, she and fellow doctors had been thrust into a room with stiff-backed chairs and paper with pens and had been instructed to brainstorm ways to manipulate others.

In the beginning, the ideas had been fairly benign, bordering on laughable with a case of the-girl-who’d-show-her-breasts-to-dignitaries-and-get-whatever-she’d-want to the-man-who-would-offer-candy-to-stray-mercenaries-and-steal-them-away-in-his-white-van. But as the hours had worn on, jetlag had settled in. Food and water had remained absent as well as access to a bathroom. The kindnesses the doctors were wont to keep had slipped and mentions of deprivation and bio-tools had become the norm.

The majority of the doctors hadn’t taken notes, but Rachel’s trace of OCD had demanded she jot down notes of everything, a kind of mini-journaling. Another man, whom she would later come to know as Daniel, had sat in the corner, mirroring her – taking notes and keeping his head down. Both of them had kept their mouths shut.

After twelve hours in the conference room, two uniformed men had entered and jerked their fingers at Daniel and Rachel. “You’re free to go to your rooms. You must turn in any and all documents you create at the end of the day.”

Rocking with the sway of the Jeep, Rachel couldn’t erase the befuddled anger on the faces of the remaining doctors, nor could she forget the smugness that had overtaken her despair that they wouldn’t be let out, either.

Noting the shift in emotions and easy shift toward self-righteousness had led toward the creation of her first successful torture device – Divide and Conquer – which utilized the devious workings of flattery over a relatively short period of time.

While that method had been tested by a non-biased team, Rachel and Daniel had been paired for more intricate work dealing with fear and control. Each test they had come up with, they’d tested on each other then passed to the team, if it met their expectations. Rachel and Daniel had destroyed six of Daniel’s methods and twenty-one of Rachel’s after they’d deemed the procedures as far too inhumane or cruel.

The methods to destroy the tests had been varied. One had involved eating one’s own paper in small chunks throughout the day. Another had involved burning them in the fires in their rooms, but the carbon debris was noticeable and they’d only been able to do that once or twice – until the end.

Rachel’s forehead slammed into her upper arm and she winced. The man driving the Jeep didn’t care what he ran over. She glanced behind her and gasped at the sight of the body tumbling from under their wheels. She turned her head as far as she could to face Dilbeck. “Why aren’t you stopping and getting rid of the bodies? The whole Hayden area was cleaned up. You could do the same down here.”

Downtown Coeur d’Alene hadn’t changed much in the bombings and attacks. Random cars littered the streets but nothing irregular for the area. Pieces of bodies scattered around the sidewalks, lawns, and streets were notable, however.

“Yeah, we didn’t do the job in Hayden.” Dilbeck finally looked at her. “They did that to draw you in.”

Rachel jerked her head back, the handcuffs jingled against the metal bar. “How would they know I’d come in through Hayden?”

He turned his body half-around and squared his gaze with hers. “I don’t get you, Parker. Didn’t you work with them? Didn’t you create tests for them? Why the hell do you continue to act like you have no idea what their objective is or what their advantage might be?” Anger marred his features, which for an older guy weren’t half bad. He struck his hand on the arm rest. “Someone gave them information on where the best places to find you. Someone who knew the area. I assume that’s you since you worked so well with them.”

“If I was working with them, then why the hell did I get gassed in Hayden and captured? I was held by Gustavson and beat. Or did the matter of my face escape you?” Rachel bit off the expletive she wanted to add to the end of the sentence. “The men that he held have nothing for him. They were strictly tools to see what would break me. I’ve been subjected to each and every one of the methods they were exposed to. Using devices I would recognize on important people in my life to see what would affect me and what wouldn’t is a maneuver I developed on Rhode Island. I just didn’t recognize it until it was too late.”

“What do they want from you that’s worth so much trouble? Some test? Don’t they have enough? They seem to be doing pretty well on their own.” Dilbeck eyed her.

Rachel sighed. “They have a large portion of the tests. But the series I developed with Dr. Daniel Bastian had to be complete in its form or its appropriate functionality would never be realized.” Her stomach twisted. “It’s not a pretty function, either, Major.” She looked out the window, refusing to see the images in her head from the final step in the maneuvers.

“You know Daniel Bastian? How well?” Dilbeck’s eyes glistened. Could a man’s excitement exhibit with a twinkle of the eye?

Cautious, Rachel nodded. “Well enough.” Considering they’d co-designed world domination. “How do you know him?”

Dilbeck’s lids narrowed. “I know him. He’s a weasel. I’ve corresponded with him regarding military tactics. I was under the assumption he worked for a university in our country, and was doing research for a thesis or additional doctorate research.”

Rachel looked out the front windshield. “He’s convincing and charming, that’s for sure.”

Dilbeck’s smile didn’t lack friendliness, but something about the curve beneath his mustache raised goose bumps on Rachel’s arms. He pointed at the rear of the convoy. “Do you really think I don’t know he’s back there?”

Rachel shifted in her seat. Daniel would be in trouble, if Dilbeck knew he had captured his enemy. “Dr. Bastian?”

Eyebrow raised, Dilbeck dropped his conspiratorial smile. “Yes, Bastian. I recognized his voice the moment he spoke.” He pointed his finger at Rachel and laughed. “And just in case you try messing with me again? I used to work at the CIA as a human lie detector. The moment you refused to acknowledge him, I knew I’d found the one I needed.” He turned in his seat, tossing in a final comment over his shoulder. “Rumor has it, you two were like lovers on the Island.”

Rumor. Who was spreading the lies? She’d never been intimate with Daniel. Not physically, anyway. Sometimes the tests demanded closeness, a vulnerability that Rachel didn’t even allow with Andy, but Dilbeck wouldn’t know that unless he worked with someone she’d worked with.

She didn’t respond. What would she say? He’d admitted to being a lie detector. His skills were on par with hers. While Rachel could see why a person did something, Dilbeck could see what a person’s intent was which was sometimes much more informative.

They drove down the tree-lined streets toward the lake. The motorcycles turned sharp down a side street and Rachel’s ride followed. The handcuffs chafed her wrists as they bumped over railroad tracks. A knot formed in the muscles between her shoulder blades.

Brenda was probably sitting on Rachel’s futon, playing with the kids and eating Rachel’s food. Rachel glowered. Brenda hadn’t done anything to deserve Rachel’s bitterness, except fail to design the tests that the enemies wanted. If Rachel had just followed Brenda’s example and gone into nursing or some other medical care field, she’d never have had the chance to create mind tests to destroy her fellow countrymen.

Andy and Josh sat in the same vehicle as Daniel. Rachel leaned her forehead against her arms and laughter bubbled up from the insanity hiding in her gut. The driver glanced at her in the rear-view mirror. Dilbeck ignored her. What would he do anyway? Make another comment?

Rachel kicked his seat, angry with the situation and helpless to change it. “Why did you put my husband and Daniel together in the same vehicle? Are you trying to hurt me or something? Because Gustavson didn’t manage to do that with what he was doing, do you think you can play the same games?”

Gustavson swiveled in his seat. “Which of them is your husband?”

And instead of anger, Rachel’s embarrassment rose sharp like a shark fin in glassy water. She knew better. Damn it, she knew better than to give away information to someone she didn’t trust. How had that slipped out of her? She met his gaze, her expression unmovable.

He watched her. Locked in a staring contest. Rachel recognized a fellow stubborn ass, but even knowing he would be as unrelenting as herself, she couldn’t back down. He already had the upper hand. She was handcuffed in the back of a Jeep like some bad S&M flick.

Eye contact broke when the driver murmured to Dilbeck. “We’re here, sir. Did you want me to park or drop you off?”

Dilbeck returned to his original position. He peered out the window and pointed down an alleyway. “Turn here. We can park behind that old house. No one will think to check in this area.”

“Sir, you asked her to meet here, didn’t you?” The driver turned as instructed and parked where Dilbeck pointed.

“In a roundabout way. She’ll figure it out. Said she had the convo books. We’ll find her.” Determination hardened his tone.

Some woman was working with Dilbeck’s team. She had convo books. Whatever the hell that was.

The ambulance parked parallel to their position in the tight alley. Rachel hadn’t been down that way in a while.

Hot summer days found Rachel and the kids at the beach at the mouth of the river where the Coeur d’Alene Lake emptied into the Spokane River. Geese and seagulls swooped in and out looking for dropped food, more numerous than ants at a picnic. The road they’d taken curved around the community college campus and ended feet from a large castle playground called Fort Sherman Park. Rachel had spent more days than she cared to admit sitting on the park benches while her kids ran themselves ragged on the log built castle filled with slides, swings, tunnels, and catwalks.

In the distance, remnants of the resort protruded into the sky from the lake like spires of a building on Stars War. The blackened scabs of fire and missing portions of the building contrasted sharply with the scene of the untouched park in the forefront.

The end of the floating boardwalk bobbed, disconnected, beyond the pilings. Debris, indistinguishable with the distance, peppered the dark water. Rachel swallowed. Hopefully her memories of the area wouldn’t be lost with the newer traumatic images.

They sat in silence for a handful of minutes which turned into ten. Rachel shifted. She’d give anything to use the restroom. The public building squatted under the regal bull pines on the northern edge of the sprawling park. On the south side, a stage spread around another set of bathrooms like a skirt. Basketball courts, pavilions, and multiple artsy statues dotted the shadowed grassy play area.

Rachel sighed. She’d never felt so tired.

Dilbeck and the driver’s hushed conversation managed to carry in the silence of a dead engine and still traumatized neighborhood.

Major Dilbeck nodded, punctuating his words with a distinct slice of his hand. “There is no way we can take the chance and leave without her. She said she’d be here. I need those books. There is a vested interest in the information and I cannot afford to lose them.”

Rachel pretended not to listen. She didn’t really care, but boredom crept in on her, mingled with the sharp stab of anxiety. Dilbeck had her, her husband, her husband’s best friend, and a prior patient of hers. Not to mention her partner-in-design. What the hell was she supposed to do with that? She couldn’t escape. While they hadn’t pointed guns directly at her, the implication that she would be shot if she tried anything screamed from the position of the guns slung over their shoulders and tucked into their visible holsters. Oh, and the damn handcuffs.

She cleared her throat. “Can I ask how the kid is?” She didn’t need to give away how she knew him as well.

“Well, far as we can tell, his legs are crushed. The cold temperatures kept him from bleeding out, but there’s nothing we can do for his legs. There’s nothing we can do for the pain. We’re kind of limited with the amount of medical care we can administer.” He shook his head. “I’ve got to keep him alive as much as possible. When I get his and his dad’s convo books, I’ll have info that will either exonerate you or condemn you.”

Rachel scoffed. “How do you figure?” He couldn’t have information in books that Tom had. He was a kid. His dad hadn’t been around much either. Why would they have information on her?

Holding up fingers, Dilbeck listed his reasons. “First, you’ve been tailed for the last three years. We found out about your activity and preparation for Rhode Island and set intel on you.”

“Is this the militia that did this or are you talking about the CIA?” Rachel didn’t believe a word of it. Why would anyone tap into her information before she’d even done anything to deserve attention?

“Me as the leader of the regional militia. I work for the National Guard and Army divisions in the Reserve capacity. In my real life, I work for the CIA. Rest-assured, if I am doing it, no matter who I’m backed by, it’s me.” No apology or shame at stalking Rachel’s activities and intentions since before the island. “And there’s damn good reason behind it.”

“What the hell could possibly have convinced you that I’m someone to watch? I’m nobody. I deal with people’s fears and anxieties. That’s it.” Rachel pushed her lips against the tender skin of the forearm. Tom’s legs were crushed. Crushed. Only Brenda would understand what that really meant. And the men didn’t seem as concerned as they should be.

“That’s not all you do, missy. You mess with people’s minds using their fears against them.” Dilbeck climbed out of the Jeep and motioned at the damaged resort. “Rhode Island isn’t the first time you’ve brought about the attention of other countries, is it. Do you see what NATO is doing to us because of you?”

Rachel snapped her head back. Her lips drew back in a snarl. “This shit isn’t because of me, jackass. They want the methods. That’s all. Gustavson was fine with killing me once I gave him the blueprints. Well, now he’s dead and we don’t have to worry about a local threat.” She spoke from behind clenched teeth. “I’m not a bad person. I’m not them.” Cocking her head, she lowered her voice. “How did you know it was NATO?” She’d only just learned it herself. “And what do you mean ‘other countries’?”

Dilbeck raised his arms and rested them against the hood of the Jeep and leaned in through the doorway. “Little newsflash, Dr. Parker. You’re not the only one with connections.”

Rachel clenched her jaw. “But if you know about the other times, then you’re connected with the wrong people. Is that what’s going on, Dilbeck? Are you a double?”

His eyes narrowed. He glanced at the driver who’d stepped to the front of the Jeep, out of earshot. His lips thinned. “I’m a damn patriot. Which means, I work with who will give me what I want when I want. I’ll trade what I need, and accomplish the goals necessary for this country.” He bit out, slow and pointedly. “This country is all that matters. Do you understand? You don’t matter. Your husband, your partner. None of you. I don’t care.”

A double agent. He couldn’t be trusted. Even if he found out what he needed from the books. He’d still do whatever he wanted to Rachel. She was a trading tool. Getting away would be the only way to figure out how to address the NATO concerns.

The back door of the ambulance opened and Josh spilled out. “He’s bleeding out, pretty bad. We need help in here.”

Rachel closed her eyes. Tom. Oh, I’m so sorry, Tom.

Chapter 30: Brenda

Nausea hadn’t hit Brenda in a few hours, not like it did rolling down the hill with the rocks crunching under the quads’ tires. The waves rolled over her, spotting her vision with black holes. She leaned her head to the side of the four-wheeler and threw up – well, nothing. She had nothing in her stomach to hurl. Maybe she was dehydrated.

Dehydration didn’t prevent dry heaves from racking her body.

David hadn’t moved as they’d driven past.

No one spoke or at least spoke loud enough to be heard over the roar of the engines. Down the driveway, out onto the road, past the drunken sign, and south toward Fernan, the ATVs caravanned. The further the group got from the compound, the more relaxed they seemed. Someone laughed. Another oohed at a squirrel, while yet another one pointed out deer scat on the side of the road.

Why would anyone be interested in deer poop?

Anxiety should have lessened for Brenda as they got closer to the house. Information overwhelmed her. She didn’t know where the other eight militia members were. She didn’t know what condition the kids would be in. She didn’t know exactly how long she’d been gone. And she didn’t know if she still had time to get the books in to Dilbeck.

She hated when plans didn’t go her way. Emotionally she didn’t know if she should cry or scream at the rollercoaster she’d been on for so long. Damn, she was ready to get off.

The dirt road transitioned to chip-sealed. The grinding turned to a hum as the tires clicked over the rough surface. The Rocky Mountain air carried a crisp zing to the temperature – one minute the sun warmed them, the next a cloud covered the yellow orb and sweat cooled at her hairline. Still, it could’ve been worse. Normal temperatures for that time bordered on either eighty plus or fifty-ish with rain and blustery wind. She’d take the high sixties and intermittent moodiness over either alternative.

At the intersection to the blacktopped Fernan Road, Brenda slowed and stopped. Cole drew up next to her and shut off the four-wheeler he’d commandeered. Others drew up where they could, and the cluster of motors hummed together and then stopped.

The sudden silence was deafening.

Brenda waited a moment for her ears to stop buzzing. She pointed down the road toward the lake, first. “I have to go to a house down there. Some children were abandoned and I need to make sure they’re okay. You can come with me, but it’s really just a rescue and retreat.” She pointed the opposite way. “There are places up that way. I don’t know exactly where and which ones are safe, but you could try.”

No one in the group reacted to either statement. They watched her, their gazes unwavering.

Brenda raised her eyebrows at Cole. He shrugged.

The outspoken woman’s lips tightened. “You said the real militia was out there and that if we wanted to help, we could.” She nodded her head. “We want to help.”

Had she? Brenda didn’t remember. A lot happened back in that clearing and for the most part, Brenda didn’t want to think about the things she’d discovered. But, they were Americans and they had the right to kick some ass, too. “Okay. I’m going to get the kids. They have to get somewhere safe. But after that I’m meeting the real militia in town. We’re a large party and I’m sure we’re going to attract attention, if we travel together.” Images of the three kids that had been shot and killed in Hayden when she’d escaped the gym a few nights before flashed across her mind. The people who’d attacked them were ruthless and thought of it as a game. Brenda had more lives on her conscience than she wanted... how much more could she handle before she lost it?

She didn’t wait for a reply. Enough options. Hell, what did she look like? A magnet for the needy? She wasn’t a damn leader. She didn’t want to be in charge. All she wanted was to get her nieces and nephews back to safety, help the other children she’d left them with, and get to town to help the militia with whatever information they could glean from Tom’s books.

Push aside the fact that she may be setting up her sister. That and the nausea which hadn’t receded.

Starting the four-wheeler, Brenda leaned toward Cole as he copied her actions. “I need you to take Kayli and Beau back to the cabin on your ride. Do you remember where to go?”

He nodded, his eyes downcast.

“Do you think you still need to go with the militia? Fight for something that might not even be there anymore? Or do you think you could handle helping to keep your family together as much as possible?” Brenda’s tough love worked on boys. Usually.

He shook his dark stubbly head. When Cole lifted his eyes, they shined with unshed tears. “Look, Aunt Brenda, I didn’t know. I thought they were the same ones Tom had spoken to. The real ones. I just want to get back home and see my mom.” His shoulders, while broad, had never seemed so small.

Brenda reached across the slight gap and squeezed his shoulder. “I get it. You need to understand that your mom isn’t home. She’s out searching for meds for your dad. Josh went to get Andy in the mountains and I came to get some information to the leader of the militia. I had to take your brother and sister with me, and now they’re at a house and have no food, water, or protection.” She slapped his arm and pointed down the road. “Let’s go get them, then you can go home and eat some of your mom’s leftovers.”

A slight smile on his mouth, he gunned the throttle. Brenda matched him and a torrent of rumbles followed them down the road. Trees turned to brush and Brenda recognized the line of brush-fencing of the property where she’d left the children.

She parked the four-wheeler on the driveway and turned off the engine. Without waiting for Cole or to see who had followed them down instead of going the other way toward safety, Brenda rushed up the front steps and through the shattered front door.

Freezing in the entryway, she oriented herself to the dim lighting. No noises greeted her. Nothing met her seeking gaze. A house with eight children in it should at least sound like something whispered in the walls. But only the wind whistling through the open windows and doors greeted her.

She crashed into the kitchen. What did she care if somebody heard her? She was a walking armory. Small pellets crunched under her feet with broken glass. They hadn’t been there before.

Brenda squeezed her fingers into fists. Maybe the kids still slept. The room she’d left them in was closed off from the world, light wouldn’t be able to get in. With the traumatic few days behind them and the small amount of trail-mix and fruit in their bellies, they just might be sleeping like the dead.

Ajar, the door’s position sent Brenda’s heart into a tailspin. They’d been out of the room, but who? Or maybe someone had gone in. If the kids had left the room, they most obviously left the house. But where would they go? And how would she find them?

She reached for the flashlight she’d tucked in her backpack. Two clicks from the clasps screamed at her. She pushed on the handle, the panel swinging inward and then stopping against a solid object.

The door didn’t make a sound.

Courage in low stores, Brenda lifted the flashlight and pushed the on button. An empty room sighed with her.

No dead bodies. For a second, the very real possibility of finding all eight kids dead would have fit her luck.

She leaned against the doorjamb. Now what?

“Aunt Brenda?” Cole rounded the corner into the kitchen, his steps slow and measured.

Fingers pressed to her forehead, she breathed in a steadying breath. The musty odor of the house hadn’t changed, but a sweet almost medicinal scent reminded her of something... something... She looked at Cole. “Yeah, doll?”

He blushed, the first sign he might be back to acting his age. “We found something you should probably see.” Forehead scrunched, he led the way out the front hall.

Brenda passed the open pantry door. Shelves glared at her in empty persecution. It seemed to say, “Where are the children I hid from danger?” Brenda pressed her lips together, before whispering, “I don’t know.”

In the front hall, Cole waited for her. She was almost there. Might as well take a few seconds and reclaim her contraband. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for a bar of chocolate or sleep. “I’ll be right there. I need to check on something.”

He nodded, but bit his lip and focused his gaze on people rushing past the deck. “Okay, but hurry. I haven’t seen it yet, but I think it might be important.”

Seen what? Brenda strode down the short hall and pushed through the bathroom door. The room looked the same as when she’d left it. Unless she included Kayli and Beau huddled against the wall clutching each other, eyes clenched shut.

Brenda knelt down beside them. Relief welled within her. They were safe. Oh, for the love... they were safe. She reached out and grabbed them in her arms, ignoring the soft squeaks they eeked out. “Come here. It’s me. You’re okay.” She rocked them. They recognized her voice and turned from each other to burrow their faces into her neck. “Sh. I’m here. You’re okay.”

Sobs pushed against her skin. Their small hands gripped folds of the shirt on her back. Beau pressed in so hard, his teeth scraped her collarbone.

Kayli pushed away, her grip firm on Brenda’s shirt. Swollen skin around her eyes testified of a long, drawn out cry. She hiccupped. “Aunt Brenda. You came back.” Sniff.

“Of course I came back. I said I would, remember?” Brenda’s stomach clenched. She’d abandoned them. Oh, hell, how could she have done that?

“But Mommy and Dad didn’t come back and they said they would. And I’ll never see Cole again.” Kayli’s huge eyes watched Brenda. Her swollen lips and reddened cheeks took at least a year off her already young six years.

Brenda heaved a sigh. She didn’t have an answer. Not an honest one. And while people berated her bristly bedside manner, at least she was honest. She slapped her hands on her legs. “Not yet they haven’t, but Cole is right outside. I brought him with me and a four-wheeler to ride on.”

Beau withdrew enough to meet her gaze, but not enough to release his grip from around her neck. “No more dirt bike?”

“No more dirt bike. Aren’t you glad? That thing was awful.” Brenda smiled as big as she could and pulled them in for another hug. “Okay, guys. I need to get something and then we can go outside, okay? Cole can take you home. Doesn’t that sound great? Maybe your mom and dad will be waiting for you.” Oh, please, let that be true.

They moved with reluctant stiltedness to wait in the doorway.

Retrieving the books took a fraction of the time as when she’d placed it. The need for stealth didn’t apply in the present circumstance. She dropped the tank lid to the floor. The hollow thud surprised a giggle from Beau. Kayli just smiled.

The books hadn’t been touched. Not that she’d expected them to be. Hell, she’d been gone, well less than a day, and kids would want nothing to do with the convo books. She didn’t, so why would they?

Tucked in her bag, the books added a solid weight of reassurance. She might not be a man, or have military experience, but she could do something to help in the fight against whoever the hell was attacking them.

She stood and swung the pack on her back. “Okay, let’s go, guys. Cole’s probably chomping at the bit to see you.” Brenda touched Kayli’s ratty hair. “Where are the other kids, Kay?”

Kayli and Beau grabbed hands and avoided Brenda’s gaze. Kayli shook her head.

Puzzled, Brenda watched them as they walked beside her in the hall, then to the front door.

A woman sobbed. One of the rescued teenagers leaned against the side of the house and heaved out of sight.

Cole stood on the outskirts of the gathering group. To the side of the driveway, partially hidden by the garage corner and more brush, the people had bunched around a small pile of something Brenda couldn’t make out. Cole’s raised a shaking hand to his pale face and covered his mouth.

Kayli broke free at the first glimpse of her older brother. “Cole!” Her squeal broke through the somber haze of the group and another woman cried out. “One’s alive.”

“Oh, thank the Lord.” A man raised his voice to the skies, his head thrown back and a finger pointed toward Beau. “Another one.”

What the hell was going on? Brenda grabbed Beau’s hand and steadied him down the stairs and across the graveled walkway.

Cole and Kayli embraced halfway to the cluster. He grabbed Brenda’s shirt and held on until she stopped. He shook his head. “Don’t take them.” He let go of her and yanked Beau into his other arm. Both kids clung like baby monkeys to their mother. Cole’s gaze had trained on Brenda and didn’t leave.

A few feet, that’s all it took, to shatter the safe illusion she’d bathed herself in since she found her niece and nephew.

The kids were dead. Their bodies piled one on top of another in a haphazard effort to recreate a funeral pyre. The charred edges of clothing screamed attempted burning, but in the damp Idaho mountains and off the lake, fire wouldn’t be easy to sustain without some heavy duty fire wood and kindling.

Flesh doesn’t cook easily.

Brenda backed away. She ignored the small eyes left open and gaping mouths on some. The hair and hollow cheeks burned in her memory alongside the images of the people being shot in the gym.

But she couldn’t faint. She had to be strong. They weren’t her children or even related to her. More than likely, their families were gone, dead, and the children would have died from hunger. However they’d died and ended up in the pile, the means was faster than starving to death.

No matter what she did, she couldn’t make anything about the situation positive. There was no spin to make it better. Brenda never would’ve made it in the psychology field. Stupid quacks blew happy smoke up their patients’ asses and then charged big time. Rachel had it easy. She’d never have to poke someone for blood or worse – tell a parent that their child wasn’t going to make it after extensive surgery. Yeah, sometimes Rachel pissed Brenda off.

But hell, a positive turn to finding children dead? When she was the one that left them? Not friggin’ likely.

She turned back to the remnants of her family. Sending them into the forest or making them come with her... into town – options she didn’t like. She’d never forgive herself if something else happened.

Chapter 31: Andy

“Most likely one of yous is going to be left here.” The driver had moved from his seat to stand in the doorway between the cab and the rear. He leaned his shoulder to the side, a smirk covering his stubbly face. “I hope it’s you.” He pointed at the new guy. “Foreigners are dicks and most likely you’re the one they’re after. That doctor bitch isn’t smart enough to do this all by herself.”

Andy looked from the battered man to the one fondling a holstered gun. Anger held his tongue. His burns had started burning again, and he didn’t know if he’d be able to hold back the cursing once he got started. He avoided Josh’s eyes. Of course, Josh would have a plan. Josh always had a plan and he always convinced Andy into acting on them, even if he only communicated with the lift of an eyebrow.

Accented English pattered the man in sharp staccatos. “Do you even know why they’re holding us?”

The driver tugged on his small goatee. “I know you and her worked together. I know you created tests that other people across the nation are suffering from.” He pointed his pinky finger, his features dark and angry in seconds. “I know that when Major Dilbeck reached another radioman on the east coast, he learned that they’ve been attacked by a hallucinogen that was dropped into the waters. Their drinking waters. Major Dilbeck said it was a bio-something method your team designed.” He stepped forward. “If I told these other guys who you are, would they be happy to let us do whatever we want? Maybe kick you out themselves?”

Josh stepped to the side, turning from Andy. He leaned his head to see Daniel’s face. “Man, who are you?”

The driver laughed. “He’s the doctor’s partner. He’s also working with NATO. He’s the one.” The man palmed his gun and fiddled with the clip, ejecting it, then slamming it back in. The movement taunted with brazen insolence.

Rachel’s partner had died on the island according to the pieces Andy had gleaned from her nightmares. He’d been a man – Daniel. And they’d been fairly close. Andy’s whisper cut over the click and slide of the clip. “Daniel?”

Andy’s fellow captive jerked his head sharply toward Josh and Andy. Surprise widened the uninjured eye. Daniel. The bastard was alive and had no idea that Rachel’s husband was inches from him. Andy bit his tongue. Suddenly his pain disappeared, and he strained against the cuffs linking him to Josh. Josh yanked him back.

The driver laughed, pointing at the men with his gun. “They seem to know about you. I can’t tell if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

Daniel relaxed his stance and shrugged one shoulder. “They don’t know all of it, or it’d be a good thing. But most of you Americans react before thinking things through.” Daniel chuckled. “You probably don’t even know how to shoot that thing.”

The driver’s face reddened. “The hell you say?” He flicked the barrel toward the ceiling, his finger tightening on the trigger. The body slipped from his fingers and he scrambled to catch the gun. A resounding bang echoed through the ambulance. “Son of a...” The driver reached his hand across his body and poked at the hole in his shoulder. The sight of the increasing blood caused his eyes to roll back. Andy squished into Josh and the driver slumped to the ground.

Andy stared at the fallen man. “Does anyone know what just happened?” The weight of the gun against his waist pressed a warning into Andy’s back. They might not have had a reason to be shackled – any of them – Josh, Daniel, even the shattered Tom who could barely breathe on his own – but when the other militia men found their driver bleeding on the floor of the ambulance and a gun on Andy, they’d have a reason then for repercussion.

Josh patted Andy’s shoulder and nodded at Daniel. “I don’t care who he is. I’m not on the side of anyone who restrains me.” He ducked beside the fallen man and rummaged in his pockets. He cupped something small in his hand and worked at his wrist. In seconds he was free of Andy and opening the door. He climbed down, yelling something Andy couldn’t make out over the groaning of the driver.

Hand out, as if to stop his friend, Andy gasped. He hadn’t just shot another human, but it would look like it to the other men. The suddenness shocked him enough he could’ve been the shooter. He longed to withdraw his gun. He’d be shot in moments anyway. They didn’t have an arsenal to protect against the onslaught of gunfire that was sure to swarm through the metal of the ambulance’s shell like bees through mist from the militia, if they found out what had happened. Oh hell. Oh hell. Oh hell. What would they do to Rachel because of it?

Andy bent down and rolled the man over to his back. A small hole punctured his upper shoulder. His breathing was shallow with pain, but the overall wound didn’t look too bad. But he didn’t have any idea what looked bad or didn’t. Mechanical engineers designed the gurneys and the bandages and so on that medical personnel treated the injured with. Association with the industry didn’t make him a physician.

He pressed his thumb against the hole to stop the bleeding and glanced up, meeting Daniel’s gaze.

The man tucked his head, a half-smile on his lips. “It wasn’t your fault. Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s not that. I’m just... I’ve never shot anyone and I wanted to when he was talking about Rachel like he was. And now he’s shot and... I feel like I caused it.”

Daniel ducked his head. “I pushed him. I made him mishandle the gun. A little too easy, as it were. It feels worse, when you’re the one doing the shooting.”

Uhhh. “I bet.” Andy wiped his forehead with his free hand. Had the temperature spiked in the ambulance?

Mottled skin over his cheek and forehead less than clear, the man shook his head. “Nah. Don’t worry about it. When you do shoot, after the first few you get used to it. That’s the worst, when it affects you less and less.” He looked down. “I remember my first.”

First... “Did you fight in a war or something?”

Daniel scoffed. “Isn’t that what we’re in? War? No. I didn’t. But I’ve had to protect my family before.” He looked up quickly at the sound of pounding feet on pavement. A fast glance back to Andy and he blurted out, “It gets easier. I promise.”

Josh swung himself around one of the double doors. He motioned with his hand, but kept his eyes on the pounding of footprints. “Do you have another gun? I dropped mine.”

Andy handed his gun over. But Dilbeck and two others joined them before he could answer. Josh stooped out of the way of the militia men, behind the opposite door and out of view.

Dilbeck’s gruff voice filled the small space. He leaned over Tom’s body, inspecting the legs. “Bleeding out, huh? Can we revive him so I can ask him some questions first?”

“He seems stable, but you might want to check him.” Daniel nudged the driver’s body with his toe. “He shot on accident and the bullet ricocheted and got his shoulder.”

Dilbeck pulled out a Glock. The other two men with him imitated his movements like marionettes. “You shot a man of the militia?”

“No. I didn’t. You heard what the man just said.” Andy pointed at Daniel. Andy’s burns chose that moment to flare with pain. He flushed.

Dilbeck cocked the hammer on his gun.

Daniel stepped in front of Andy, hunched in the short quarters. “Look. He didn’t do it. He doesn’t have a gun on him. Don’t you see his burns? I doubt he could hold a gun very tight anyway. It was an accident. Aren’t there enough people out there after us? Let’s not take away more able-bodied countrymen to fight when we need it.”

The European accent had disappeared.

Andy didn’t have a response. He shut his mouth and waited, holding his hands at shoulder level. Dilbeck considered the man’s words. Nobody moved.

Tom groaned. His adolescent frame seemed shrunk in on itself. He rolled his head on the vinyl, blood from his lips dripping to the gray mattress.

Dilbeck lowered his gun. Andy’s heart rate slowed down enough he could tell the difference between beats.

“Major, would you like me to check on the doctor?” The man behind Dilbeck held his ground, maintaining the barrel’s aim.

Dilbeck shook his head, but didn’t move his gaze from Andy. “No. She’s cuffed. Not a lot she can do from that position.” He scanned Andy’s face and glanced at Andy’s would be protector. The skin around the major’s eyes tightened. “Remember me, Daniel?”

Daniel’s shoulders shifted a few millimeters. His back straightened. He dropped his American accent. “How did you recognize me, Dilbeck?” The collar of his shirt lowered with the adjustment in his stance. The P of a tattoo stood out against his pale skin. The font and placement and size all matched Rachel’s exactly.

Andy willed Daniel to turn around, face him. If Andy could just see his face again, see what it was that Andy had missed. What could Rachel have possibly seen in the man?

The major crossed his arms. He jutted his chin out, anger evident in the clipped pace of his words. “Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea what I went through to get the information that I did? NATO may be powerful, but they’re not impenetrable.” He pushed his finger toward Daniel’s face. “You know that better than anyone.” A stray glance took in Andy’s expression. Dilbeck widened his eyes. “Are you Mr. Parker?” He looked around and took a head count of those present. To the other men with him, he held out his hand. “Where’s the other guy?”

Both men looked around. The ambulance wasn’t designed to hold so many men, let alone hide a full bodied man in the interior. They shrugged and returned their gazes to the leader.

Neck red, Dilbeck’s yell reverberated through the tight confines. “Find him. He might be the husband.”

The men scrambled through the doors and disappeared around the side of the ambulance. Andy didn’t answer the question still hanging in the air. Dilbeck looked again at Daniel and Andy.

Muffled shouts and yells reached them from outside, but nobody returned.

Chapter 32: Brenda

“We need to figure out which way we’re going.” Brenda pulled her niece and nephews into a huddle, longing to keep them close. “I have to go to town. You can come with me, but I wouldn’t advise it.”

Kayli sniffed. “Aunt Brenda, those kids tried to make us come out with them. Are we in trouble?”

Brenda pulled back for a clearer look at her smudged niece. “Why would you be in trouble? You’re safe, that’s all I care about.”

“You told us to do what they said. But we didn’t want to go with them.” Fresh tears filled Kayli’s eyes. She hung her head. “We hid in the bathroom.”

A lump formed in Brenda’s throat. “No worries, doll. You’re alive because you didn’t go with them. I’m not mad, okay? You did good. Do you know what happened out here?”

Kayli shook her head and looked at Beau. The small boy’s lip quivered. “We didn’t go right to the bathroom. I peeked out ‘cause I heard guns. Big guys shotted at them.” Tears welled up and he shoved his face back into Brenda’s shoulder.

“Did they go in the house?” Cole zeroed in on Kayli. His gaze was intense but his voice was gentle.

“No. They didn’t even get off the bikes. One of them did to pile the kids up and I saw smoke.” Kayli shuddered. “Then I pushed Beau into the bathroom. I thought they came back when Aunt Brenda opened the door.”

Brenda held Kayli’s hand. Cole was a man. He’d have to decide. She couldn’t do it for him. “What do you think you want to do?”

Cole hadn’t stopped touching Kayli or Beau since he’d wrapped his arms around them in a hug. A hand on each of their backs, he looked at their heads tucked against Brenda. Raising his eyes, he swallowed. “I think they need to get back to the cabin.”

“I agree.” The thought of leaving them again, having them go somewhere without her left bitter trails in her heart. But Cole could take care of them. He’d survived some brutal shit up until then. He’d make it. “Okay. You’ll be going by yourselves? I have to get to town. I’m meeting Dilbeck. I have info he needs.” The weight of the backpack pressed against her spine. Maybe she didn’t need to go.

“I can take them. But you should know, Dilbeck... well, I heard Farnham say a couple times when he listened to the radio that Dilbeck never should have left their group. I don’t know what that means, but I’m not sure...” He studied the ground, then stood from his crouched position. He held out his hands to his siblings. “I have a four-wheeler, too. I could trade you for yours. Unless you want to pull the trailer around with you?”

The trailer would be cumbersome around town. She hadn’t been through the downtown area. Who knew what state the roads were in. “Yeah, why don’t we switch. But you’ll have to hide the guns at the cabin. I stocked up for the future.” She walked them to the ATV. Cole climbed on and Brenda tucked Kayli and Beau around him on the long cushiony seat. “Get them something to eat, okay? And yourself.”

An easy turn of the key and the engine turned over. Brenda tousled Beau’s hair and brushed her fingers over Kayli’s cheeks. She met Cole’s eyes. “You have a gun?”

He nodded.

She tightened her lips. “Do you know how to use it?”

Cole rolled his eyes. “Yes, Aunt Brenda. It’s a semi-automatic. I have extra clips, too.”

“Alright. Sounds good. Go straight home and tuck inside. Don’t let anyone in and hide the guns where the kids can’t find them.” Brenda brushed dust off her pants. She couldn’t meet Kayli and Beau’s eyes. They were going to start associating her with abandonment.

“Will do.” Cole revved the engine. “Be careful, Aunt Brenda. Thanks for getting us out of there.” And he rolled out of sight.

Brenda couldn’t move her feet until they rounded the corner and headed into the mountains. Hopefully, they were out of the remaining militia men’s paths.

“Hey, your name’s Brenda?” The woman who’d spoken at the compound approached Brenda, her hand outstretched. Brenda nodded and returned the shake. The woman continued. “I’m Sara. You said you’re going to meet with the real militia? We’re all following you.”

No pressure. Brenda forced a smile. “Nice to meet you, Sara. Too bad it’s not in a grocery store or at a football game, right?”

Sara laughed. The sound, though odd after so many days filled with terror and fighting, warmed Brenda, helping her forget for a moment that she wasn’t at the football game or café. Sara pointed toward the people climbing on their ATVs. “I don’t know much about them, but they seem like a good bunch.” She glanced at the children, reality dousing the fantasy. “I overheard your niece say they were shot and then tossed in a pile. You’re lucky they made it.”

“They didn’t mind me. I’m lucky their mother allows free thinking and independence.” Brenda walked beside Sara to the four-wheeler Cole had traded. “I’ve always wanted kids, just never had the chance.” Or the right man.

“I have... had four. Two of them died when California fell into the ocean. One of them lives in New York and I have no idea where he is now or what’s happened to him. And my only daughter...” Sara turned her head and wiped her cheeks. “My girl was one of the first ones Farnham took advantage of and killed.”

“When did he start doing that?” Brenda’s strained voice was foreign to her own ears.

Sara lowered her voice as they closed the gap between them and the group. “Four days ago. If the girls fought, he shot them. There were a lot more. Farnham led the group after the real leader abandoned for a different cause. They’re the old Hate IT group.”

Hate IT. The Aryan nation group that passed itself off as the local militia. Lovely. Brenda didn’t have a response. She climbed on the four-wheeler and spared one more glance at the kids. They might have made it, had she stood by them. She turned away and drove toward town. Or they might have become more toys for Farnham.

Houses piled on each other the further she drove from the lake. Yards shrank. Roofs huddled close to the ground, overpowered by looming bull pines and evergreens. If she imagined that the world wasn’t falling apart and people weren’t turning on each other, and she wasn’t flanked by other refugees in a flight toward finding aid and offering service, maybe she could believe she was in the days before the end of the world. Before Lee. Before pain and humiliation became her day-to-day life. Back when she still had the option to have a family and be happy.

Chapter 33: Rachel

Josh leaned in through the front door, a silver key dwarfed in his hands.

Uh. Rachel pulled her head from her arms. She watched him.

“Dr. Parker.” He jerked his head in the smallest nod, but didn’t meet her gaze.

The cuffs clicked and fell from her wrists. Rachel lowered her arms, rubbing the lined imprints left behind on her inner skin. “What are you doing, Josh?”

Ducking his head to see out the side window, he pulled the lever and moved the front seat forward. “I figure there’s a reason they want you, and you’re the only one that can fix this, right?” He shrugged and raised his eyes to hers. “I guess the idea of you shackled and imprisoned with either side doesn’t sit well with me.”

Unsure how to respond, Rachel crawled out of the backseat, taking Josh’s offered hand on the last step. “Thanks.” She glanced at the ambulance. “We need to get Andy.”

A gentle shove guided her around the open door, in the opposite direction from the ambulance. Josh shook his head. “You go. Get out of here. I’ll get Andy and we’ll meet you at your place.”

Rachel still couldn’t go. He didn’t understand. “No, they’re going to use anybody they can to get to me.”

“They can’t gauge your reaction, Rachel, if you’re not here. Go. We got this.” He pointed his hand toward the playground. “Get lost in the fort.”

She stepped forward, ready to flee. But Josh grabbed her arm. He leaned in, the scent of man and gun powder strong on his skin. “Can you fix this? Is there any hope?”

Could she? She might be able to, but she needed more from Josh than he intended to give. “I need the other man that’s in that ambulance, Josh. Get him out, too, and I’ll do my best to fix this.”

“Your partner.” Josh dropped his hand from her arm. His shuttered expression returned. The toneless echo of his words cut through the warm air. “Go.”

She moved, as fast as she could, toward the fort, across the streets, over the grass. Her legs shook. She hadn’t eaten in quite a while. And damn, the bathroom couldn’t be a bad choice. But Josh had said the fort and he had more of a plan in mind. Daniel would’ve had every move planned for the rest of the game.

She gasped. Her feet flew beneath her. She pumped her arms. Could she move faster? And she pushed. Harder. Could she move faster? She tried. Feet from the wooden gate, she slipped and landed in the damp grass, jarring her hips and knocking her head on the cement curbing separating the bark from the grass. Her jaw snapped shut and a shooting pain sliced across her tongue.

Rolling onto her hands and knees, Rachel crawled the rest of the way to the fort entrance. Behind the bridge arches, she slowed, the punishment from her flight evident in the red streaks on her forearms as she wiped at the moisture gathering at her hairline. She pretended it was sweat, funky colored sweat.

Chapter 34: Brenda

Major Dilbeck had said to meet at the tub that sells jet skis protected by Sherman. Tub... The only “tub” in the area was Tubbs Hill, a hill jutting into the lake like a peninsula with rocky shores and various spots to jump from. They didn’t sell jet skis there, but past the Resort almost to the college a water sports equipment rental company had been there for a long time. But how were they protected by Sherman? The road was named Sherman, but how was that protecting anything?

Unless... Brenda pulled a strand of hair from her mouth. Fort Sherman playground was half a block further and in theory it “protected” Tubbs Hill. It could just be a play on words. Either way, not many people were wandering around downtown Coeur d’Alene looking for her.

The road from Fernan Lake led straight into the heart of the vacation town. Brenda slowed and motioned to Sara and the others. They cut their engines under the freeway underpass. Brenda watched the road. “I’m not sure where each of you come from or what your story is, but I was captured in a house in Post Falls. In a high school, I had to sit by while numerous people were poisoned.” She stared at the four-wheeler’s plastic bodywork. Disgust filled her. She didn’t have an excuse for why so many had died. She’d been deceived, but she’d made choices that had affected too many. “You need the full story, before you blindly follow me. I’m going into town to meet a man who says he’s Major Dilbeck of the Northern Militia. I’m not sure if that’s even true, but I have to try. You’re welcome to come with me, or not, but I won’t make the choice for you.”

Sara pursed her lips and nodded. She’d most likely be the one they’d follow more than Brenda. If only Brenda could convince Sara to take them a different route, their fate could be removed from Brenda’s shoulders. Sara patted the hand of the girl sitting behind her. “I think it’d be a good idea to go as far as we can with you, if you don’t mind.”

Put nicely, we go where you go. Brenda sighed but hid it behind a matter-of-fact nod. “Let’s go single-file. Watch the side roads. I have no idea how they’ll come or even if they’ll come, but I’d rather we weren’t surprised.” Shifting on her seat, Brenda regretted leaving the dirt bike behind. The benefit of two wheels wasn’t contained in the speed or power, but rather the maneuverability. Dirt bikes can go places four-wheelers can’t.

No point running over the pros and cons of ATVs. At least she had one. She rubbed the base of her right thumb. Constant pressure on the throttle took its toll. “We’re heading toward the Fort Sherman playground.” I think. But sharing her doubts didn’t help anyone else.

A man closer to the back muttered, “There better not be more dead kids.”

Unable to voice her agreement but wholeheartedly hoping there weren’t more dead anythings waiting for them, Brenda restarted the motor and led the way down Sherman Avenue.

Nothing was normal. Hell, she’d left normal long ago. The ice cream shop that specialized in huckleberry shakes had been replaced by the cab of a semi-truck. A small grocery store had an intact building, but the doors hung open, one ripped from its hinges and carts sprinkled the parking lot.

Even with the rumble in her gut, Brenda didn’t dare venture inside. If it’d been looted, there wouldn’t be much left. But if it hadn’t then the question would be why? Maybe Gustavson and his group watched the stores to grab more. The brand on her neck kept her from chancing it, even for a stray bag of chips or moldy bread.

Sickly sweet scents wafted on the breeze blowing past Brenda. She didn’t want to look, but couldn’t help it. Pavement pushed up in places like a putty knife had plowed through the road. Car pieces, house bits, and – Brenda turned her head – a hand and other chunks of multi-colored flesh mingled together in a sprawling mess that filled the road.

To avoid driving on anything dangerous, the group took to the sidewalks and alleyways which had been protected by the buildings, some eviscerated, some intact. Nobody spoke.

Classic cars had left their marks with peel out marks in the blacktop under posters advertising the burnout competitions. Art shows memorialized by statues painted with multi colors and styles. An umbrella emblazoned with the Coeur d’Alene Resort logo lay bent and twisted under a Gucci luggage bag. Even the rich got killed on vacation.

The ride took longer than the normal five minutes. Trees smashed through the vintage homes and the Zips burger joint hadn’t stood a chance against whatever had smashed into its belly and wiped out the infrastructure.

Rather than passing through the direct center of town and in the open area by the Resort, Brenda turned north before the blocks filled with touristy shops and cafes. There was more than one way to get around – out of direct sight.

Left at the next block, her group traveled down the less open thoroughfare which opened directly across from the large park area. They pulled up at the stop light and surveyed the grounds.

Nothing looked dangerous, barring the broken world and the dead quiet of the normally bustling vacation-spot titan.

Tucked under the shady skirts of the large trees, the Fort claimed its place in the grass like an untouched queen awaiting message of the war. Breezy spring air brushed the tops of the trees, and the heavy boughs swayed far above the ground. Large steps connected to the public beach lay victim to the lapping water and the debris bobbing against its cement form.

A man to Brenda’s right pointed at the fort. “There. Did you see that?”

Squinting, Brenda scanned the log structure, but nothing stood out. Unless... yes, there... just behind the wooden arches on the opposite side of the playground something round ducked. It had to be a head, hopefully attached and hopefully alive. Which fit, if it was Major Dilbeck. He’d be in the exact spot he said he would be. But hiding like that didn’t make sense.

“Shit!” The man who’d pointed out the movement grabbed his raised hand in the other. Blood flowed through his fingers. The shot sound reached them.

“Get back! Now!” Brenda reversed her four-wheeler and backed behind a brick apartment building guarding the corner. More shots called across the park. Brenda’s group joined her, everyone intact except for the injured hand.

“What was that?” Sara pressed her hand to her chest. “I thought this was arranged.”

“It is. I wonder if the major is in the fort and those shooting at us are the ones responsible for the attack.” Brenda crawled off her ride and crept to the corner of the building. A peek around the side didn’t get Brenda anymore information. But if that was Dilbeck, she needed to get him out of there. “We need Dilbeck.”

Collectively, they nodded. Everyone had stashed arms on their rides. They checked their weapons and adjusted on their seats to ride and aim well. The girls behind riders clutched handguns pointed toward the ground. Even though they weren’t her group or her people, Brenda’s chest swelled with pride at how much they’d overcome in only a few hours.

Worry overshadowed the warm glow of pride. Had Cole and the kids made it? Were they safe?

“If we go around the side, from the college aspect, we might get in there without getting shot.” Brenda turned sharp and headed up another few blocks. They had to get to the turnout leading to the road around the campus. Back in the older neighborhood, they might be able to sneak up on the shooters and give Dilbeck a chance to escape.

Painstaking and slow, the group idled and revved only as loud as they dared. Sneaking up on someone didn’t include announcing their position.

More gun shots followed, the sounds traveled dully through the houses and trees separating Brenda and the fort.

At the start of the public beach from the west side of the park, Brenda held up her hand. “I’m going down the beach, on foot, to pull him out. You guys distract the group. They seem to be collected on one of those streets along the periphery. Let’s get him out.”

Sara backed up her four-wheeler, pulling alongside Brenda, and shifted into drive. She offered a reassuring smile Brenda’s way then went to press the throttle. Brenda reached out and grabbed her arm. She met her eyes, determination hardened her words more than she intended. “They’re evil, Sara. Don’t let them catch you. They will hurt you, if they capture you. Do you understand?”

“I was in the same gym as you, Brenda. I do know. I lost my husband in that group. Hang in there and I’ll meet you on the other side.” She nodded, short, sweet, but strong and drove off.

On the other side of what? It better not be the other side of death, because Brenda’s fondness for that woman was growing.

Holy crap. Fear split like cold steel down her spine, curdling in the small facets of her vertebrae. She wasn’t Rambo. As small as she was, she’d have a helluva time pulling Dilbeck out of the fort. He could be injured, heavily armed, any number of things that wouldn’t be good for Brenda or him.

But her group rumbled down the back road, stopping their ATVs on a driveway and turning them off. So, they’d go by foot, too. Without looking back, they disappeared behind trees and fencing in the direction she’d indicated.

Now, all Brenda needed to do was suck it up and get onto the grass.

Chapter 35: Rachel

Dizziness kept Rachel from poking her head around anything, but damn if she didn’t want to know what the hell those bastards were shooting at. Couldn’t be her. She’d tucked her ass so far into the fort... oh, wait, well not that far. She’d only made it as far as the bridges, but it seemed like she’d hidden well.

She pressed her hand to her head. Throbbing pulses pushed warm liquid through her fingers. Pushing harder hurt like hell, but seemed to slow the flow. She turned and settled onto her butt in the pokey bark. Head leaned back, she closed her eyes. Gathering her thoughts for a plan had never seemed so hard.

The blood loss reminded her of a test she and Daniel had designed for the last step in the Project. Utilizing the magnetic characteristics of iron, they’d pumped the participants full of extra iron in IVs, vitamins, and food and then experimented with the effects of magnetic powers on their cognitive skills and problem processing capabilities.

Deemed unusable because of the lack of information one could get from someone under the influence of magnetic tinkering, they’d shelved the test. But not until after Rachel had tried it on herself. Holy crud, the pain of so much extra iron had depleted her energy, but when they’d moved the magnets over her, her veins and arteries had literally fought against the alternate flow they’d tried to create. She’d been unable to scream or cry out, but when Daniel had stopped, she gasped and begged to get rid of the test.

He’d watched her, but took the procedural description for the test and tossed it in the recycling bin.

Why was she remembering a test like that, again? She dropped her hands to her lap and gaped at the red on her fingers. Wha... Oh, her head. She returned her hands to her wound and focused on the slow beating of her heart.

Okay, where was she? Fort Sherman Park. Who was she? Rachel Parker, psychologist who had no idea why NATO wanted her tests. What was she doing? Stopping the blood from dumping out of her skull. Who was touching her? She didn’t know, but she was supposed to be running from people, or escaping, or something.

She opened her eyes. Kneeling beside her, Brenda’s face was scrunched tight and she held a folded piece of torn material. Her whisper came through a tunnel. “Don’t move. You’re hurt pretty bad.” Brenda pressed the makeshift pad to Rachel’s head, concentrating the painful thud to the pressure of her hand.

Rachel winced. The slight movement worse than the impact from her fall.

Brenda dodged up and peeked over the side of the bridge. She bobbed back down and lifted Rachel’s eyelids. “Yep, you have a concussion. I can’t tell to what degree yet.” She helped Rachel lift her arm. “Hold this on, Rachel. You can’t let it go, or the bleeding won’t stop, okay?”

Rachel’s lungs pushed against the vise clamped around them. “What are you doing here?” Holy shit, her tongue hurt – didn’t want to form the words. She struggled to sit up. “Where are the kids?”

Anxiety distorted her sister’s features. She wrapped her hand in material from the bottom of her shirt and tore, avoiding Rachel’s eyes. “I came to meet someone. The kids are fine. They’re with Cole.” Tearing noises filled the space between them.

The effort to focus on Brenda’s words sapped Rachel’s strength. But a light in the message kept her conscious. “Cole? You found him? Did he come back?” She fought against invisible marbles rolling around her mouth. “My tongue hurts.”

Brenda pried Rachel’s lips open and peered inside. “Yep, it’s swollen. Looks like teeth marks. Must have bitten it when you fell.”

The sting brought tears to her eyes as she moved her tongue. The damn thing was swelling more and more. She held her mouth open and spoke as carefully as she could. “Kids?”

“I took them with me to do something. They were safe while I did something else. I found Cole. He has them and is most likely back at your place right now.” Brenda pushed on Rachel’s hand again. “Hold it there.”

“Vague.” Damn, even swallowing had become next to impossible. But Brenda understood what she meant.

“Look, we don’t have time for details right now. I need to get you out of here. I think Gustavson is shooting at us or you and I’m meeting a Major Dilbeck here.” Brenda looked again around the park.

Hand on Brenda’s arm, Rachel tried to speak, but her mouth gave in to the call of pain and nothing came out. She couldn’t even shake her head, the ache had hit a debilitating level. She gripped hard, her unmanicured nails digging into her sister’s flesh.

“Ow. Dang, Rachel. You don’t have to hurt me. I’m right here.” Brenda lowered her head and met Rachel’s gaze, irritation wrinkling the skin around her lips.

If she knew the expression added five years to her looks, Brenda wouldn’t make that face, Rachel thought. A spattering of bullets rang out above their heads. She had to make her sister understand. One bad guy had died only to be replaced by another.

With her free hand, Rachel stuck her index finger into her mouth, wetting the tip as well as she could. She wrote in the dust on the logs inches from their faces.

G-u-s-t-a

She relicked her finger.

v-s-o-n.

Brenda watched her closely. Rachel rewet her finger.

D-e-a-d.

“Oh my gosh. Are you serious? How? That’s great. Then who’s shooting at us? That bastard, Daniel?” Brenda’s excitement at Gustavson’s death filled the air. “Looks like it’s coming from the direction of that parked ambulance.”

Rachel raised her finger again.

D-i-l-b-e-c-k.

The last few letters were barely legible but Brenda nodded like she understood.

More spit and blood on Rachel’s finger.

S-h-o-o-t-e-r.

“Dilbeck is the shooter right now, or he’s the one who shot Gustavson?” Brenda turned from the log wall and stared at Rachel’s face, trying to read the answers there.

Rachel stabbed her finger in the direction the bullets came from. Her damn sister could be so dense sometimes.

“How can he be the bad guy? He’s working to reinstate the United State’s position to at least be capable of defense. Isn’t it all about revenge and taking back what’s ours?” Brenda’s jaw clenched. “I think you’re confused. He must think you’re somebody else to be shooting at you. I’ll meet with him and discuss the matter. As soon as he sees it’s all a misunderstanding, you’ll be fine.”

Of all the stupid, stubborn, idiotic things. Brenda never listened. She’d always been about America, America, America. Hell, Rachel was telling her as her sister that Dilbeck was the bad guy and Brenda continued ignoring her.

Medical personnel worried about the others and had a distinct tendency to choose what’s best for the group while Rachel had learned in psychology that number one and the primaries – family, friends, etc. – had to survive first.

Dilbeck wasn’t interested in Rachel or her family, just her ideas that NATO wanted. Sounded like he’d even trade her or something, hold her as hostage, so long as he got what he wanted for America. With so many sides to the war, which side was he doubling for and who would benefit in the end?

Well, as far as Rachel was concerned, America had fallen. The only thing left to do was survive whatever came next, even if it meant a takeover and new laws and customs to adjust to. Survival was at the top of her list.

Brenda moved to stand, directly in the line of fire. Rachel jerked on her sleeve, hard. Hand waving hard between them, Rachel fought the wave of black wrestling with her. She didn’t want to give in. The last thing she needed at that exact moment was to black out. Brenda had an uncanny ability to get her ass in trouble and Rachel didn’t want to be there when it happened.

Throat muscles constricted around her tongue at the base, she couldn’t swallow and she struggled to breathe. A tongue could swell just from being bitten? Hitting the ground had done more damage than she’d expected.

Pain in her head and swelling in her tongue took her ability to calm down. If she’d been smart enough on Rhode Island, she might have come up with something like this. At the point she was reaching, the possibility that her tongue might choke her to death was real and not controlled by any one person or even a collection of people. She could die right there.

She scrabbled for Brenda’s arm and motioned toward her neck. Help! She wanted to scream. Help me. I can’t breathe and NATO wants me and Dilbeck can’t be trusted. He’ll do whatever he wants and to hell with the consequences. Brenda, help! But nothing came. And as sisters, they weren’t close enough to communicate any clearer than strangers.

Her sister pried open Rachel’s already parted lips. The attempt to move her jaw caused excruciating pain as her teeth dislodged from her stretched tongue. Rachel whimpered with the small amount of air she could squeeze through her throat.

“Rachel, oh, no. This is bad. If I don’t get ice on this or get you an anti-inflammatory fast, you’re going to need something more drastic.” Brenda’s blue eyes flamed with concern. “Do you understand? I’m going to have to trach you and I don’t want to do it. I only have a rough knife and nothing for a tube, right now.” Over her shoulder, away from the Dilbeck mess, Brenda studied something. She glanced at Rachel and then back at – what? The only things in that direction were the Resort and docking apparatuses. “Even bombed out, doesn’t the Resort have a basement? Or something? Maybe I could find an ice machine or something.”

The Resort. Brenda would be gone a while and what if Dilbeck didn’t wait? Rachel didn’t have a gun or any way to defend herself and there was no way in hell she would be able to walk that distance with her head injury or with her severe lack of oxygen. Her throat could close up completely and she’d stop breathing all together.

Brenda continued speaking as if Rachel lay there unconscious. “The ambulance would have some of that stuff and then some. If they have Benadryl, I could give that to you and avoid the entire throat puncturing situation.” She glanced at Rachel who flitted her eyes from side to side, desperate for a plan, any plan.

Rachel’s stomach twisted with something that felt like... no, could it be? Could she be afraid? Had the occurrence of natural and uncontrollable impending death returned her fear? She’d lost the ability to feel the emotion during the Project, one of the reasons she’d deemed herself ineligible for testing. Ethically, she refused to test her stuff on others before using herself. And her tests were ineffective without the level of fear she’d lost.

“I’m going for the ambulance, Rachel. I don’t think you’ll make it, if I just get ice. You’re past that point and I’m not sure how long you have before your throat closes up.” She moved into a crouch and pushed away Rachel’s flailing hand. “No, damn it. I’m not going to let you die because you’re certain someone is not who they say they are. Welcome to reality, sis.”

Brenda lifted her fingers to her mouth and released a piercing whistle which rebounded off the trees in an eerie symphony like birds calling to each other.

After a moment of nothing, a deep voice yelled, “Dr. Parker? Come out. We won’t shoot.”

Brenda didn’t even spare Rachel another second. She pressed her fingers to Rachel’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back.” And disappeared from the safety of the fort.

The strength of Rachel’s tongue couldn’t compete with the weight. She pushed it down, away from the top of her mouth as long as she could, but between the soreness of her wound and the pain in her head, she didn’t have the energy to continue holding her tongue as well as pressing to her forehead.

She’d relax it for a moment. She’d hold her breath and just for a moment... Rachel closed her eyes and focused on staying calm. Inhaling long and deep, she relaxed her tongue. The relief was so intense she tried exhaling on a sigh. But her tongue allowed nothing through. And she tried pushing her tongue back down, but fought against overwhelming pain.

She didn’t get a chance to open her eyes.

Chapter 36: Brenda

Out of the fort, Brenda maintained her crouched position until she’d reached the street. Arms held in the air, she slowed her pace but not enough to be noticeable. Rachel’s throat was bad according to the purplish shade of her lips.

The Resort’s appeal had been strong, but the long distance on foot needed more time than her sister had. Adults had a shorter time span without oxygen then children and Brenda didn’t know how long Rachel would require.

“Stop!” Brenda drew closer to a collection of vehicles that seemed relatively unharmed. Two guns pointed her direction from behind an open door and across a hood. The faces obscured by sun glinting off the metal and glass. She paused and strained to see more. A quick glance into the neighborhood behind the caravan revealed nothing helpful. Where had her group gone? “I’m Brenda? I’m supposed to be meeting Major Dilbeck here.” The gun-wielders could easily be anything other than militia, like Farnham’s group, or looters, or something else crazy. Hell, she could’ve been set up in a trap and the person behind the door of the ambulance could very well be Daniel.

All the negative possibilities rushed her at once like a shot of meth. Her physiology warped into hyperdrive with her heart rate and awareness amplified.

Shaggy-haired, an older man emerged from the back of the ambulance, a gun aimed somewhere near her chest. “Brenda? How did we converse?”

“By radio.” Her turn for an identifier. “Where did you tell me to find you?”

“At the tub protected by the Sherman.” He lowered the gun a millimeter.

“But this isn’t the tub. Why did you think I’d come to the fort?” She didn’t have time for this, but she had to make sure. What if she walked into a trap and was never able to help Rachel? Her sister pissed her off, but she was still her sister.

“The tub was to throw off the bastards listening in. NATO isn’t the only enemy Americans’ have.” He dropped his hand and approached her. “You came from the fort. We lost a captive in there. Did you see anyone?”

“Yeah. And she’s not doing too well. I need access to your ambulance and immediate assistance, or she’s not going to make it.” If Rachel was right, and Dilbeck was the man who wanted her dead, he had no reason to help Brenda save her. But if Brenda was right, Dilbeck would do everything in his power to save the woman, regardless of shooting at her.

Dilbeck, close enough to reach her, grabbed her upper arm and propelled her to the ambulance. He jerked the gun at the two other men who’d targeted Brenda as she’d approached and barked, “Get her. If she’s bad, she can’t run. Hurry.”

They tucked their guns in their holsters as they ran at full tilt toward the fort.

She lifted her hands to shoulder level, and muttered over her shoulder. “Why do I feel like you tricked me, Dilbeck?”

His hold loosened. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to scare you. I don’t want to lose the woman. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I’ll make sure you have full cooperation.”

Lowering her arms, Brenda couldn’t admit his words reassured her. Something about the bite in his tone or the inflection on certain syllables had her hackles up. It’d be smart to move with caution. At the entrance to the ambulance, Brenda stopped. Dilbeck ran into her back. She pointed inside. “I can’t fit in there. Get rid of them.” She ignored Andy and Josh, handcuffed to each other on the side bench, knees crowded under the gurney holding a sheet-draped kid covered in blood.

None of that mattered. Her sister was going to die and not one of the men in that ambulance would make a difference – one way or another – in saving her.

Dilbeck motioned to the captives and they shuffled from the seat, climbing awkwardly to the ground. Brenda stepped aside but only for a moment. She pushed into the tight space and rummaged around the cabinets and drawers, yanking out sterilely packaged scalpels, tubing, gauze, anaphylactic medication, sutures, and more bandages.

Andy’s voice, filled with fear, cried out, “Rachel, oh, hell. What happened? Rachel! Brenda, she’s not breathing.” Hopefully, Dilbeck wouldn’t pick up on Andy’s use of her name.

Over her shoulder, Brenda glanced out the doors. Dilbeck pushed Andy and Josh to the side as the men rounded the open doors with her sister’s body. Red and white splotches on Andy’s skin from the burns contrasted sharply with his flushing worry. Josh stared, holding up his friend and watching the still form pass by.

“Pull her up here.” Brenda cleared a spot on the bench, worry and stress chiseling her words into cement that dropped into the silence.

The men pushed her body onto the cushions but the small area prevented them from helping her further. Brenda tugged and yanked at her sister’s longer and slightly heavier body. With fingers pressed against Rachel’s throat, Brenda used her other fingers and her teeth to open the anaphylactic packaging. A thready pulse at best fluttered beneath her index and middle fingertips.

Unzipped, Rachel’s snug pants fought Brenda to the knees. She ripped open an alcohol pad and swabbed a random spot on the lateral thigh about the area where Rachel’s pockets would be. The adrenaline push needed to be immediate. The anaphylactic pumps came prefilled and the 0.5 milliliter of adrenaline slid in without effort.

Empty, the needle lost all value. Brenda tossed it in the general vicinity of the onboard needle box. She couldn’t administer another dose of adrenaline for five minutes, but Rachel didn’t have that long. If a response wasn’t noted in the next sixty seconds, Brenda had no trouble applying a betadine wash and cutting into Rachel’s exposed throat.

A large gauze pad substituted as a tracheotomy tray, holding stitching materials, oral anti-inflammatories, a scalpel, and a tube. The anti-inflammatories would only be used, if the tongue shrank enough to function properly.

Thirty seconds and Rachel’s chest hadn’t started moving. But her pulse felt stronger. So the oxygen would still be spreading and the blood would be pumping the adrenaline around. Brenda’s nerves caught up to her and she clasped her shaking hands in her lap. Rachel wasn’t in the clear yet, but a positive sign was easier to take than if her heart stopped altogether.

“Is she going to make it?” Major Dilbeck rested his hand on the handle of the door and peered up at Brenda.

“I’m not sure. At this point, she’s not even breathing, but I’m hoping the shot will shrink the tongue and reduce the swelling in her airway. If not, I have to trach her and I’d rather not without a more sterile environment.” Brenda couldn’t hide her disgust at the state of the ambulance. She’d never seen anything trashed so thoroughly.

A man groaned from the ground behind the kid’s gurney. Jeesh, what the hell had she gotten herself into?

She stared at Rachel’s chest, willing it to move on its own. She’d start compressions, but not without some bitterness. She hated CPR. Hated it enough she usually attended the classes in the back of the room and rarely volunteered on the dummies. Demonstrating the procedure to pass her certification was one thing, practicing in front of others on a plastic doll didn’t do much for her already bristly attitude.

Forty-five seconds. Damn it, come on, Rach — was that? Yes! Yes, it sure as hell was! Brenda slapped her sister’s shoulder and then said, “Oh, sorry.” The movement was small but big enough to avoid another injection and, more importantly, a cut and tube placement to her throat.

“She’s breathing.” But still bleeding from her head wound. The suture material she’d retrieved would leave a scar with the thick diameter of the hooped needle and the matching thread. A syringe of Xylocaine served to anesthetize the area. Fortunately for Rachel, her loss of consciousness would only aid her at that point. Xylocaine stung like a swarm of hornets going in when not tempered with Marcaine. Either way, the medication assaulted the nerves. Rachel didn’t need to be awake for the procedure.

The red slash on her forehead stood out like lipstick on a geisha with startling contrast. Rachel’s smooth skin gave easily to Brenda’s pinching and stitching. The loop knots had no fancy design but would heal in the hairline without needing to be shaved and with minimal cleaning. Ideal for the end of the world.

Rachel’s breathing stabilized. Brenda opened her sister’s mouth as much as she could. The swelling had diminished enough for air to pass by with sufficient room, but gouges in the flesh would prevent the swelling from disappearing altogether for a few days. Talking and eating would suck, if not be impossible.

Not all ambulances had stock in antibiotics, but she’d never know until she looked.

She stood, shoving the garbage from her work into the corner of the bench. No matter what, that ambulance would have hand sanitizer and she’d kill for a squirt or two. Antibiotics. Hmm. Most likely not in the trauma ambulance.

The boy in the bed caught her eye. She leaned closer to inspect the sandy-blond hair. The shape of his jaw and lean arms struck a chord of familiarity. Where had she seen him before? It wasn’t that long ago. The pale skin and blood flecked cheeks altered the appearance of his face. That combined with his peaceful expression didn’t lend itself to the easy recognition. But something in his shoulders...

She pointed at the boy and spoke over her shoulder. “Is this kid’s name Tom?”

Josh spoke up, the last one she’d expected to respond to her. As far as she knew, she didn’t exist to him. At least when Rachel was within a mile radius. “Yeah. Do you know him?”

Brenda swallowed. Yeah, yeah, she did. For the briefest moment she’d worked on escaping the world with him, hidden away in Rachel’s house. He’d been there when she’d broken out of the gym. He was a good kid with a solid head on his shoulders – a rarity in the world she came from. She didn’t nod. “What’s wrong with him? Can I look?” Hell, she didn’t need to see under the sheet to know whatever issues he had, his prognosis was dim.

Dilbeck’s grunt made Brenda grind her teeth. But as much as it pissed her off, she understood his disinterest. To Dilbeck, Tom wasn’t worth much. Not with Brenda carrying his convo books. Damn, she should have stashed them in another toilet. They could take the books with their guns and there wasn’t much she could do about it.

But if they were the good guys, the real good guys, she would hand them over, even if they implicated Rachel. The country needed to be saved and if Rachel was doing crap she shouldn’t be, she needed to deal with the consequences. But Brenda’s convictions waned and she didn’t know if she really would turn her sister over just for someone else to torture her.

“I want Dr. Parker fixed first. The kid can wait.” Dilbeck’s voice boasted a command that bristled Brenda’s irritability.

She arched her eyebrow and faced him with a hand on her hip. “You can want a whole list, Major, but I can’t make adrenaline work any faster. She needs to sit for a bit. You’ll have to leave her care to me.” Brenda pointed at Tom’s still form. She delivered her demands loud and bitchy. “I know this kid. He was there when I escaped Gustavson. He’s a good kid.” She drew his sheet down and ignored the rest of the men, focused on Dilbeck. “I’m working on him, got it?”

Dilbeck peered at her, inspecting her features for what had to be the first time. He hadn’t really noticed her when she’d first arrived he’d been so concerned with Rachel’s situation. “Oh, shit. Your sister you were worried about on the radio is Dr. Parker, isn’t she?” Dilbeck slapped the ambulance. “I spoke with Tom on the radio and he had his dad’s convo books but he was with Dr. Parker. Now, I’ve got her, her sister, her husband, and her partner and some extras to work with.”

“Partner?” What the hell did that mean? He couldn’t mean Josh. Brenda flicked her gaze to Josh and Andy, but they didn’t respond to her question. She jutted her chin out. “What do you mean partner?” If he said what she didn’t want to hear, Brenda might go postal.

She looked down, focusing her attention on the purplish thorax and mottled marks of Tom’s flesh. Oh, Tom. Brenda bit her lip.

“Your sister’s partner during the Rhode Island Psychology Project.” Dilbeck motioned to someone out of view of the ambulance. “One sick bastard that’d designed tests with Parker to destroy the world.”

And Daniel stepped in front of Andy and Josh.

Brenda dropped the sheet and lurched toward the doorway. She couldn’t see anything but his face in that room at the high school. His hands as he held her down while Gustavson branded her skin. His concern when he warned her about the poisoned food. She leaped at the bastard, mindful of his already wounded figure and hopeful she would cause more harm. A screech escaped her. The solid thud from her impact on his chest resounded up and down the street.

Brenda drew back her fist before the jar of contact disappeared. She popped him in the jaw. Another on his shoulder. She pummeled and pummeled, his grunts rough in the warm air.

Arms pulled at her, restraining her, but she struggled and pushed and snarled. The woman in her objected to the branding, the sting appearing like new beneath the collar of her shirt. She kicked as they dragged her off him, her foot connecting with his ribs. His small whimper gave her small satisfaction, but she took it.

“Alright. Alright.” She shrugged off the men holding her who turned out to be Dilbeck and one of his men.

“Not a fan?” Dilbeck’s dry tone wrenched a chuckle from Brenda, her breathless insanity overtaking her desire to be understood.

Crazy, crazy, crazy. “Not even a pinch.” Where the hell was the rest of her group? Had they been shot or chickened out? Meeting Daniel’s eyes wasn’t an option. She’d jump his ass for sure, maybe kill him on the next go round. Gustavson was dead, so she couldn’t do anything with her anger towards him, but hell if she couldn’t take Daniel.

At least Daniel’s charming looks had been damaged with the beating he’d previously received. The realization he might not be infuriating to only her calming like a sedative.

Her arms slackened and she sighed. Ignoring everyone present, Brenda climbed into the ambulance and returned to Tom’s inspection.

“His legs are crushed at the knees.” She muttered to herself. Palpating the skin around the ankles and moving up, she winced at the edema and ecchymoses on his young skin. “Dang, Tom. This looks bad.” She stopped touching him and straightened to inspect him from a distance, see what she couldn’t see up close. His legs at least had kept their alignment. His pelvis didn’t seem to be damaged. Ribs were black and blue but the abdomen wasn’t distended which calmed her worries about internal organ bleeding.

For some reason, his condition hit her more than Rachel’s. Her sister’s condition was reparable, even in the type of circumstances they were. She’d heal. She didn’t need surgery and as soon as her tongue was restored, she’d be back to her normal know-it-all self.

But Tom. She pushed her hands on her hips. How could she help him? Over her shoulder, she called to Dilbeck, “What’s he on? Any pain meds or anything?” An IV was hooked up but the fluid bag’s label was blank. She fingered the tubing to his wrist.

Dilbeck answered, a hitch in his voice like he expected her to jump anyone of them any minute. “I think he’s just on regular saline. They were freezing him with the IV for his torture. I doubt they gave him any pain meds.”

Brenda spun toward him. “Are you kidding me? They were torturing him on top of these injuries? Do you realize how bad he is? I guarantee his knees are demolished. I have no x-ray equipment to find out just how bad his lower extremities are, as you know. His ribs are bruised and hell, might be broken considering the amount of blood coming from his mouth. But that doesn’t necessarily mean his lungs are bleeding.” She bent over Tom and listened to his breathing. Wheezy but no cough or gurgle. His heart rate seemed slow but okay, for the moment.

She wedged a finger in the corner of his mouth. Gloves. She’d forgotten gloves, but really? Was she worried about getting a blood disease from a sixteen-year-old? Not when she might get lead poisoning from Dilbeck or someone else with a gun.

Solid and stable, Tom’s teeth didn’t move when she pressed on them, but with a thumb to his chin, his jaw opened and she peered inside. Tongue intact. Pallette intact. Open airway with no sign of superficial trauma. Saliva running good, no sign of dry mouth. No sign of fever, so no sign of acute infection.

Nothing she could do for him without more equipment.

The man on the floor, whether one of Gustavson’s men, a militia man, or one of Rachel’s other pursuers, had obviously been injured. He hadn’t moved much since she’d come into the ambulance. She knelt down and felt for a pulse. He groaned.

Good, alive. Brenda patted his back. There was no exit wound on his shoulder and just beneath the clavicle, it could have punctured the apex of the lungs.

“We need to get them to the hospital. I don’t care who takes us, but we need to go now. He’s bad.” Brenda pointed a finger at Tom, and then directed another one at the man on the floor. “A bullet is lodged in his chest, could be in the lungs, but I won’t know for sure unless I get diagnostic testing done. And Rachel,” Brenda shrugged, “I wish I had something concrete. For the moment, she’s fine, but I need to do a CT scan and figure out just how much damage was done when she fell. Plus, the tongue could use stitches and this forehead laceration will need better cleaning.”

Brenda turned and sat on the floor of the ambulance, dangling her feet over the edge. She watched Dilbeck, waiting for him to say what he wanted to do.

He shook his head. “No. We can’t go back to the hospital. That’s where they’d set up and we were just able to break them out. I don’t have enough man power to stand guard over this area, let alone multiple procedures being performed in a building that they may or may not bomb again.”

“I don’t care about that. We just need to get to the hospital. I can do it fast and we can be out of there in no time.” Brenda didn’t look away from Dilbeck.

“The hospital doesn’t have electricity, like the rest of the country. You won’t be able to do the tests.” He shook his head, arms crossed over his chest.

“Fine. No tests. But I can get them more stable, find pain killers and antibiotics.” She glanced at Andy. He’d needed some before. He couldn’t be all better without some aid.

Dilbeck glanced at Andy, Josh, and Daniel – bastard. “Look, we have Bastian. He can give us the information we need on the tests. If Parker dies, well, that’s too bad.” He pressed his lips together but concern didn’t mar his features.

Brenda quirked her eyebrow. “’That’s too bad’? Are you an idiot or something? What about Tom? That kid was trying his best to help out in any way he could. Your own man is lying on the ground and could die. Your manpower is down because you don’t give a damn.” She jumped down from the back to the ground. “You need manpower?” Brenda released a second piercing whistle. “Sara! Come out.”

Dilbeck raised his gun, followed by his two other men. They swung in a circle, taking in any and all movement, crouched in a squatting position as if they expected to shoot any second.

Sara and the rest of the group edged out of the bushes and trees no more than ten feet from the ambulance. Brenda couldn’t be more shocked. Stealth didn’t describe their technique. She covered her reaction under a smile and a wave, cockiness her only ally. “Hey, I forgot the signal.”

Sara’s answering laugh, filled with just enough sarcasm, relaxed Brenda. She’d heard the conversations worth hearing. She got it. As soon as everything was over, if they made it out alive, Brenda was going to hug the woman and give a gushy thank you.

Dilbeck stood and lowered his weapon. “You have your own army, Brenda. Is this to free Dr. Parker?” He stepped backward, coming to stop when his shoulder nudged the open door.

“What? No.” Men were so dense. “That’s not it at all. They came with me from Farnham’s compound. They wanted to join the real militia, but couldn’t find them. I told them where I was going and why and they asked to come along. You have more manpower now.” Brenda jerked her head toward the patients in the ambulance. “We could get to the hospital and I can have them repaired in no time.” Come on, say yes. She mentally crossed her fingers. Tom deserved so much more than dying on a gurney because someone didn’t have time. “Plus, you could always use Daniel to contact the attackers to say we have whatever it is they want.”

“They want Rachel.” Andy finally spoke. His eyes burned and he clenched his jaw. “They want her for her tests, Brenda.”

She nodded. “Of course they do, Andy. But give them Daniel. She’s in no shape.”

“But they aren’t my tests.” Daniel’s silky smooth voice hadn’t been damaged by his beating or by her attack. Damn. Next time she was going for the friggin’ throat. He inclined his head. “Not that I don’t agree with you and would happily go in Rachel’s place, but I’m not what they want. They want her.”

Brenda stalked toward him, her moves tightly controlled. Oh, she wanted to slap him again. Dilbeck shifted and if she attacked, he’d be right there to pull her off. But she might get in a solid hit... instead, she pressed her face as close to his as she could – which wasn’t close with their height difference, but she tried anyway. “You worked with her. You turned her in. You aren’t innocent, Bastian. I have a brand to prove you’re out to get my sister. What was the message in searing my neck? Huh?” She jabbed his chest, her fingernail sharp and digging. “I’m betting if you’re really a good guy, she wouldn’t be in this mess, would she? She’d be safe and would be discussing whatever the hell she could to help out.”

Dilbeck held up his hands. “Enough. We need to figure out exactly what NATO wants and how we can either get ahead of them or give it to them. The attacks need to stop so we can recover our losses and hopefully, make contact with the other militias. See what’s happened around the rest of the country.” He pointed at Daniel. “If you know anything, I’d suggest you spill it.”

Daniel watched them from his one good eye. Brenda’s gaze didn’t falter under his steady perusal. His voice lowered. “I’m so sorry about the burn. I didn’t want to.”

She couldn’t even scoff. His voice was hypnotic and she’d forgotten the magnetism bursting through him. That whole bad-boy persona. She didn’t even need to know him and she was attracted to his height and his marathon running form. Beaten bad, his features still maintained a regality she’d recognize in Europeans and east coast bluebloods.

“You remember that I tried to help you, right? I worked on that. I made sure you had supplies. I made certain you were given what you needed.” His words weaved a braided rope between them. How could his effect be Stockholm’s when she wasn’t his captive anymore? But he had tried to help her, hadn’t he?

Brenda squinted at him, trying to see behind the smoke and mirrors of a potential hypnosis. Daniel was a colleague of her sister’s and that meant he couldn’t be trusted. Rachel was a master manipulator and she’d altered Brenda’s thinking and frame of mind before. Brenda was no virgin to being taken advantage of. “Good for you. But what about the food poisoning? You lied to me. And so many people died.”

“No. I didn’t know. I told you what they told me.” He shook his head. “I’m so—”

“Sorry, yeah, we get it. What exactly does NATO want and why does it have to be Rachel?” Josh stepped between Brenda and Daniel, yanking Andy with him. “I don’t really care what you’re going through on a personal level, Bastian, is it?” He pressed Brenda a few feet back. “Do you know anything? And speak to me or Dilbeck, not to her.”

“What the he—” Brenda cut off her expletive at Josh’s quelling look. Okay, he’d gained the upper hand. He’d better not waste it. She glowered at him.

Daniel crossed his arms over his chest, hands tucked into his elbows. “Rachel has undergone intelligence testing before and she has this ability to quantify the results of the mind tests against the effects of the physical tests for most productivity. NATO is also aware of her photographic memory that is second to only one tested in the world.” He paused, as if afraid to share too much.

“Second to who?” Dilbeck shuffled his feet. The man’s gaze drifted between Brenda’s group and Daniel.

“Me.” At least he had the grace to look embarrassed. “I have photographic memory, which includes audio, tactile, and fragmented spatial memory. I only need one piece of a puzzle made of hundreds of pieces to know exactly which puzzle it is and where that puzzle fits in. This logic application can apply to anything I’ve seen at least once.”

Andy brushed his words away with his hand. “While that’s interesting, Bastian, if you were partners with Rachel, why can’t you just recreate what you worked on together.”

Daniel cocked his head and focused on Andy. “You’re her husband. Did Rachel tell you everything that went on in her head? Did she ever tell you all the different routes she could see just to get to the grocery store? She’s smart, Mr. Parker. Smarter than most people on this planet, but she’s afraid of what she can do. So when we worked together, she ran over the tests and designs herself before she would share anything, using her statistical knowledge to gauge the effectiveness of the tests versus how much potential damage they would create to the victims.” He held Andy’s gaze for a moment longer. “If the odds were close, she tested them on herself first.”

Brenda snorted. All eyes turned her way. She cleared her throat, forcing back the laughter begging to scream from inside. “Yes, Rachel is smart. She’s so smart, she figured out ways to torture people in a ‘humane’ manner. So smart, that NATO, Idaho militia, and countless men are after her. So smart, she cut open her head and bit her tongue so she can’t speak.” She stepped close to Dilbeck and motioned toward Sara and the others. She lowered her voice. “Major, I’ve brought people who want to help, in whatever way you can use them. They’ve had a pretty hard time with Farnham’s group and they really just want a chance to get back at whoever is attacking them. I’m not asking you for a lot. Get us to the hospital. I can take over from there. You can ask all of them whatever questions you have, alright?”

Calculating, his eyes searched her face. She had nothing to hide. Rachel was smart, no doubt about that. Tom was most likely going to die, no denying that either. But Brenda wasn’t sitting around while the men argued. Especially when they argued over Rachel. Like a damn damsel in distress. Seriously.

Dilbeck studied her a moment longer, then turned to his two men. “They’re already armed. We can have them go with us and find out about their backgrounds and abilities when we stop at the medical center. Back into the ambulance dock and one of you stay with the vehicles.” In mid-turn, he pointed at two of the men behind Sara. “You two come with me. We’ll ride in the Jeep. The rest will have to fit on the motorcycles and in the ambulance.”

“We have our own rigs, sir.” Sara’s back couldn’t get straighter. “We’d like to ride them, if that’s alright.”

Dilbeck spared her a second glance and nodded. “Sounds good.”

She jerked her chin down and then grabbed the girls and the remaining men, herding them toward the dirt bikes and four-wheelers they’d hid up the alley. A wink in Brenda’s direction calmed her down.

“Load up.” Dilbeck inclined his head toward the ambulance and looked at Andy, Josh, and Daniel. They didn’t move. “You’re in the ambulance again, gentlemen. Get going. I’m not leaving you here.”

Brenda stepped onto the road toward where she’d left her own ride. Dilbeck stopped her. “Brenda, you’ll drive the ambulance. I can’t trust these guys to do what I say.”

“How do you know I’m trustworthy?” She bit the inside of her cheek. Of course, she was, but how did he know to trust her?

Dilbeck half-smiled. “I don’t. You’re the one demanding we go to the hospital.” And that’s her sister in there. The words dangled unspoken in the muggy May air. The palpable threat didn’t stand a chance. He needed Rachel, even if she was partly functional. He’d trade her dead body to NATO, no doubt about it.

Brenda didn’t need to guess what he’d do to get the information from Rachel, if she did come to and no one was around to help out. She waited while Andy and Josh clambered into the back, stuffed amongst the bed and bodies. They couldn’t sit on the bench occupied by Rachel, but Andy stuffed himself into the corner of the cushion and lifted her head to his lap and Josh, still handcuffed to his friend, perched on the counter.

Dilbeck slammed the doors shut and tugged on the handles. “All set.”

Arms crossed over her chest, Brenda stared at Daniel in the same pose. Neither moved.

“He’ll ride in front with you, Brenda.” Dilbeck raised both eyebrows. “Don’t kill him... Yet.”

Chapter 37: Andy

The ride held onto a sinister tension, even with more familiar faces and less power in Dilbeck’s hands. Except as more and more revealed itself, Andy’s certainty in who was for and who was against the US muddied.

“What did you do to get your ass cuffed to me again?” Andy hated the bracelets. Dilbeck had tightened them the second go-round and the metal dug into his skin.

Josh shrugged. “I let Rachel go. Someone needed to get out of there. She seemed like the best choice.”

Andy considered Josh’s words. Josh chose Rachel when no one was certain she was even on the right side. He studied his right hand hanging limply from the cuff partnering him to Josh. A lock of Rachel’s silken hair lay across his arm. Twisting the brown strand through his fingers, he whispered, “Do you know what day it is?”

Nobody answered, either because they didn’t hear him or they didn’t know. He went with the former and spoke louder. “Does anyone know what the date is?”

Choked like he needed to cough, Daniel answered through the opening between the cab and the back. “The calendar says it’s May thirtieth.”

Brenda met Andy’s gaze in the rearview mirror. He ignored the look she gave him. Not that he ever understood what her odd expressions tried to say.

Brushing a finger down Rachel’s nose, he muttered, “Happy birthday, darling.” And he had nothing for her. He didn’t even know what he believed about the revelations flying around. Was she working with NATO? Had she designed so many tests? Was she as smart as this guy was saying? Andy had always known she was smart, but he’d never known the extent of her brilliance. Maybe he didn’t even understand now what Daniel’s comments had meant. She’d tested herself with what?

The ambulance hit a bump and Brenda growled something at Daniel. Andy didn’t deny her right to be pissed at the asshole. If Andy hadn’t been under-the-weather in the gym like he had, he might have recognized Daniel when he’d first seen him, but the damage to Bastian’s face took away all chances Andy had at seeing the man who’d held them captive, taken Brenda away, and returned her marked up and wounded.

“Did you hear what I said, asshole? Don’t touch anything, or I’m going to pull over and kick your ass out.” Brenda screeched. Andy bit back a smile. For once her anger was turned on someone besides him. She screamed. The sound of a hand slapping across flesh echoed into the back.

Josh jerked upright, into a fighting stance, his left arm restrained by Andy’s weight. Andy pulled him back and shook his head.

“He might hurt her.” Josh whispered, his eyes wide.

Andy scrunched up his nose and replied in a low tone, “He won’t. I’m more worried about what she’s going to do to him.”

Cautious, as if not sure why he was sitting back down, Josh kept his gaze on the opening but spoke in a conspiratorial tone with Andy. “What happened to her? Why is she so mad at him?”

“He’s the guy that held Brenda and me in the gym.” Andy didn’t want to say more, admitting that Daniel was there when so many people had been shot. Admitting Daniel had had that much power stung Andy’s pride. Self-preservation demanded he not acknowledge the previous conditions between them, but rather treat him as less than Andy while they were both captives. Josh screwed up his lips. Andy added, “He’s the one that branded her neck. There aren’t a lot of things Brenda won’t forgive, but physical abuse from a man is her number one Achilles’ heel. At least according to Rachel.”

Josh nodded, his confusion evident in the turn of his mouth. He looked Brenda’s way and lowered his voice even more, if that was possible. “She’s sweet. Kind of neurotic, but sweet.”

At that, Andy laughed. He’d never heard Brenda described that way before. By anyone. His movements jostled Rachel who moaned. All jocularity dashed from his mind. “Rach? Are you okay? I’m sorry. Jeesh.” He brushed the hair from her face, careful around her stitched hairline. She calmed down, her moans quieting.

He’d sworn his stomach had jumped into his throat and his heart had fallen to his knees when the two men had returned with her body hanging like a noodle between them. Thank heaven for Brenda and all her experience as a nurse practitioner. Rachel wouldn’t have made it.

A sharp turn and slight squealing of the tires, made Andy grasp Rachel’s shoulders to steady her. He ignored Tom and the man on the floor. Tom looked worse than anybody Andy had seen in the gym or since and the guy on the floor was down in an unknown condition. He’d never killed before, but he wanted to. Dilbeck, Gustavson, Daniel. Andy’s anger roiled beneath his concern for Rachel. But he restrained it. He’d never be able to forgive himself, if he killed someone. Josh had more experience in that arena.

“Does it get easier?” Andy’s lips barely moved.

Josh turned his head. “Does what?”

“Killing.” Duh. What else would he be talking about? Baking a damn cake?

“Um, I haven’t killed enough people to know. The act itself is easy, if you don’t think about it, but the after sticks like a burr.” He sat in silence beside Andy and neither spoke.

It sucked. Andy couldn’t define what “it” was, all of “it” maybe.

The ambulance swerved into the parking lot.

They’d just left the building. Andy didn’t want to go backwards. He wanted to get to the property, hide in the cave with his kiddos and not know what happened to the rest of the world until all the insanity disappeared.

“Do we try to escape?” Josh shifted on the counter, leaning his free elbow on his knee. “What track do we take, Andy? Who are we concerned about and who do we leave behind?”

Good question. But the options sickened Andy. “Well, there are the obvious ones...”

“Are there? Who? Who is obvious? Which one do we know is one-hundred percent on our side?” Josh pierced Andy’s eyes with his own. “What is our side?”

The validity struck Andy in the chest. He looked at Tom, at Rachel, and in the direction of the cab. “I... well, I think we can safely assume that Brenda is on our side. She wants to heal everyone, right?”

Josh shrugged, but a soft nod added her to the list.

The ambulance slowed down over all the speed bumps. Andy pointed at Tom. “He’s been beat to hell. He can’t be bad, right?” Damn. The kid looked bad.

He couldn’t do it. He wanted to, but something held him back from declaring Rachel as one-hundred percent safe. But his loyal side demanded he at least suggest the possibility. “You know, I don’t... what I mean is, I’m not sure how... er...” Damn. He couldn’t do it.

“You’re not sure what to make of Rachel? I know, man. I don’t know either. But she’s your wife. You know?” Josh stood.

The ambulance stopped moving. Andy got it. She was his wife, but what if she’d done all the things that Daniel and Dilbeck had said? Did he trust that she wouldn’t do something to hurt someone else? In the name of science, Rachel had a single-mindedness that rivaled Napoleon’s.

Andy didn’t want to look any closer at their options. Tom and Rachel weren’t even ambulatory at the moment. Andy was still damaged and wouldn’t be able to pull them or carry them to safety. “We’ll make that decision when they’re ready, yeah?”

The side doors popped open before Josh could answer. Brenda’s yell tore through the silent parking lot. “I swear, if you come near me one more time, I’m going to kick your ass, do you get me? Pain, Bastian, pain.”

His answering chuckle raised the hair on Andy’s arms and Josh bristled. “Is he taunting her?”

Andy pressed his lips together. “Sounds like it.”

Dilbeck opened the back doors and motioned Josh and Andy out. One of the other men wheeled another gurney to the rear of the ambulance. Josh and Andy got down and moved to the side. Brenda sauntered to the back and supervised Rachel’s transfer to the rolling bed. Tom’s gurney followed hers and a wheelchair was pulled out for the downed man.

The ambulance parked as close to the emergency room doors as possible, had a collection of dirt bikes, four-wheelers, motorcycles, and a Jeep surrounding it like bodyguards. All positioned for escape.

Andy would use them, but who would leave with him?

Chapter 38: Rachel

Rachel couldn’t believe her ears. The blood loss must have been more than she’d realized. Andy had not just said he didn’t know if he could trust her. If she couldn’t rely on her husband, who could she rely on?

The move to the gurney splashed dizziness over her already shattered nerves. Even if she’d wanted to, she couldn’t drag her eyelids open. She could barely move to breathe.

Brenda stood close, according to the proximity of her voice. “Try not to jostle them much. I don’t have time to do more stitches.” Always about Brenda.

Rough hands grabbed Rachel on both sides and swung her down. She landed on a surface that lacked cushion to make her fall less painful. Her grunt got lost under the hushed orders and hardware being moved around her. She relaxed into the black calling her under. She couldn’t do much and the pain hurt more and more as they moved.

The tires of the bed squeaked beneath her as someone pushed her up, over, or under, or across, or something. Oh, a bump.

Eternity passed filled with bumps and catches and stops and starts. Brenda’s voice clashed with a number of other people, words blurring in and out of a tube Rachel couldn’t comprehend.

“Pull her in here.” What had Brenda done? Escorted Rachel all the way into hell? That’d be Rachel’s luck.

Someone brushed Rachel’s arm and chills ran up and down her spine. Voices faded. Brenda’s stayed close by. “Take Tom to the next room and the other man next to him. I need as much antiseptic as you can find. You – unlock their handcuffs. I’m sure. Josh, it’s called Betadine, look for the brown bottles.” A door clicked. In a lower volume, Brenda closed the distance between her and Rachel. “I know you’re awake. Your pulse is all over the place. You can open your eyes, nobody’s in here. Dilbeck is supposed to be securing the area and getting to know the other people I brought. Josh is busy and Andy is setting up Tom’s room.” She sighed. “Open your eyes, Rachel. You can’t avoid me forever.”

Rachel squeezed her lids tight before she put all her effort into making her eyes do as she told them. Prepared for bright lights, she hmmmed with the relief of dim lighting. She tried to lick her lips, but her tongue rejected any movement. She wanted to swallow, but sharp piercing pain pinched the muscle. Her eyes adjusted and focused.

Brenda stood beside her. She looked the same as in the park, but less... fuzzy.

A cough tickled in the back of Rachel’s throat. She couldn’t even cough. She asked Brenda with her eyes wide – what the hell?

“It’s okay. You bit your tongue, probably when you fell and got that nasty cut.” Brenda pointed at Rachel’s forehead. “I stitched that up, but I can’t get into your mouth to do any major checking until you relax your jaw more. You still clench your teeth when you’re out, like when you were little. But what I saw looks pretty raw.”

Controlling her saliva proved impossible. Drool leaked from the side of Rachel’s mouth. Brenda grabbed for cloths on a side table and wiped at Rachel’s cheek without breaking stride. “When you get better, you’ll have to tell me why no one wants to trust you but at the same time nobody wants to leave you behind.” Sarcasm filled the void between them. That was one thing they’d always had.

Rachel turned her head to face the ceiling. Saliva pooled in the back of her mouth and if she concentrated on not breathing for a second, she could quasi-swallow using the back muscles of her tongue. Damn.

“Lovely. I forgot how much antiseptic stinks.” Brenda pinched her nose and leaned over a waist-high trashcan. She dry heaved into the black bag liner.

Cupboards lined the room, labeled with the words gauze, gowns, basins, syringes, wraps, and tubes. Everything a nurse would need when she triaged patients. Curtains shut off the doorway. No panels for privacy but the blinds on the window were closed. Window with an inside view. Rachel would’ve laughed at the quirk, but she didn’t want to throw off her breathing rhythm and hell, could she even muster a noise that sounded like laughter?

“Sorry. All this adrenaline and no sleep, I can’t keep the nausea back. Damn, I heave on four-wheelers, too.” Brenda’s weak laugh and the shaky tone in her words gave Rachel pause.

A word, a pile of words.

Brenda’s arm came close to Rachel as she bustled about the bed, avoiding eye contact. Rachel reached out and grabbed her bicep. Brenda stopped. The sisters stared at Rachel’s hand. Rachel dropped her grip and pointed at Brenda’s belly. Their eyes clashed, Brenda’s wide, Rachel’s narrowed.

How could Brenda be pregnant? Hell, stupid question. Not the best time to be expecting a child – the end of the world and all. The only person they knew with any medical expertise was Brenda. She couldn’t deliver her own baby.

Chapter 39: Brenda

A baby? Brenda hadn’t considered... hadn’t thought of the possibility. Her last cycle had been – she counted – but the numbers didn’t add up. Fingers splayed across her stomach, she shoved Rachel’s hand to the edge of the bed. “I don’t remember my last period. Lee...” She choked on the last words. She couldn’t say them. If she was pregnant, she was nine weeks or so. Before she’d left for Nevada was the last time he’d touched her – well, until she’d returned home and the world fell apart.

Rachel’s eyes shifted, her gaze taking in Brenda’s still flat stomach. Brenda stepped back. Rachel had hated Lee – maybe more than Brenda. A baby of Lee’s, if there was a baby, might not be welcome. Rachel lifted her hand, palm up, shaking. Brenda’s eyes pricked. Her sister wasn’t cruel or cold. She’d never turn away a child.

Reaching for her sister’s hand, Brenda took in the shadowed eyes and chapped lips. Not symptoms of a concussion but of dehydration and hunger. She gripped Rachel’s fingers. “You’ve got to be hungry. I bet you haven’t eaten or drank anything since you left your place.”

Rachel didn’t reply – how could she with her tongue macerated? But Brenda didn’t need one. “I’m going to rummage up something to eat, more bandages, and see if I can find some Benadryl or other anti-inflammatory. If you’d like me to stitch it, I can.” She squeezed Rachel’s hand, trying to be reassuring. “I need to check on Tom and the other guy, too. Tom doesn’t look good at all.” She sighed. “I’m worried they won’t want to work to save him.”

Brenda released Rachel’s hand and glanced up at the window and curtains. She slid off the backpack and shoved it under the chair beside Rachel’s bed. Not the best hiding place, but for the moment, it was the best she could do.

The hallway looked abandoned. Half-parked monitors and carts sat here and there between cubicles. A low voice murmured from the hall marked with an exit sign. Brenda picked her way to the corner, over a pile of tumbled towels and discarded gauze packages.

A foot from the corner, she recognized Dilbeck’s voice. “I’ve got it under control, Mason. I don’t need your help. Well, you shouldn’t have left Farnham in charge. He’s a dumbass and you know it.” Brenda’s jaw dropped and she clenched her fingers. But she didn’t make a sound. Dilbeck continued. “I’ve got Parker and friends of hers. Gustavson is dead and Bastian isn’t talking... right now. No, I left him with the husband and friend. They won’t let him go anywhere. I don’t know when he’s going to contact them. Well, when he does, we’ll have a lot to offer. They might consider a bigger trade.” He fell silent, a solid ten seconds passed, and then, “Yeah, I have the sister. She has the books. I won’t need her after I get them. Less baggage. Yeah, okay.”

Brenda backed up. She turned and slammed into Josh’s chest. He grabbed her upper arms and steadied her. Lifting a finger to his lips, he shook his head and motioned her past Rachel’s door and into the one next to it. He peeked down the hall before closing them off from the rest of the hospital. In a stage whisper, he asked, “What did you hear?”

“I’m not sure.” Her voice quavered.

He rubbed her back and nodded. “It’s okay, take a second.”

Brenda didn’t need time to assimilate the conversation, just that she wasn’t needed anymore and that she might be pregnant. Too many details hurtled toward her and she didn’t have any way to catch them all. She spoke haltingly but relayed as much as she could.

Josh didn’t interrupt, but listened like he memorized the entire conversation. When she finished he touched her shoulder. “You have the convo books?”

A weak voice from behind her interrupted. “He said Mason?”

Brenda whirled from Josh and pressed her hand to her chest. “Tom, you scared me. I thought this room was empty.” She moved to his bedside. He’d been left on the gurney from the ambulance and the sheets shined in a splotchy red. She patted his pale hand lying limp at his side. “How’re you feeling, Tom?”

“Mason. Did. He. Say. Mason?” Tom struggled to cough unsuccessfully.

Nodding, Brenda squeezed her eyebrows together. “He did, but...” Who cared? Who was Mason anyway? “Why?”

“My. Last. Name.” Tom breathed. Brenda didn’t need a stethoscope to hear the wheezing and gurgling.

Mason. “Whose team is your dad on, Tom?” Brenda lifted the sheet and checked the swollen tissues around his knees. Josh moved to the other side of Tom’s bed.

Tom closed his eyes. He flushed, his cheeks bright pink against his otherwise whitened skin. “Not. Sure.” He cradled an arm close to his body, over what had to be damaged ribs.

“Can I move that arm, Tom? I need to check your abdomen for bleeding or other damage.” Brenda ignored his words. His father may be one of the bad guys, but at the rate Tom was going, it didn’t matter. He’d... be dead before the day was out. The truth was hard to swallow and increased her unease at having Josh present. She didn’t want Tom to die, not when he’d been there before she’d been caught and was the reason she’d been saved by Josh and the others.

Effusion around his knees mottled the skin. Beneath bluish-red marks on his calves, close to his ankles, edema swelled the flesh to nearly bursting. Brenda pressed her fingertips to the swollen flesh, the imprint staying for longer than three seconds.

His closed eyes didn’t flicker. Brenda met Josh’s gaze. Had Tom fallen unconscious? Bent at a strange angle, his wrist looked worse than the ribs. But even with all the damaged bones and mangled flesh, Tom’s danger lie in his fractured breathing and sporadic pulse. If he had a tamponade, fluid in the heart sac that creates pressure on the muscle, his mortality limit would decrease exponentially.

An ultrasound machine was the only way she had to diagnose a tamponade. Even with plenty in the hospital, there was no electricity to run it. “I need electricity. I could check him over and do everything that he needs with a small generator.”

“I doubt they kept the generators intact. From what I understand, when Dilbeck and his men showed up to take out Gustavson, they shot out the remaining generators in the back. There’s nothing for backup. Not right now, anyway. We might be able to make a run for it to a close store, but I can’t be a hundred-percent sure we’ll find one, and any extra ground movement might grab their attention.” Josh didn’t speak with a hurried affectation, he spoke with a matter-of-factness that made Brenda reconsider her discomfort with having him present.

What he was saying was he didn’t have any straight answers to give her. He might be able to get a generator. He might be able to find one nearby. He might make it. He might. He might. He might. Just like Tom might...

Brenda bent her head and clasped her hands in her lap. She had no time frame. No idea, but it didn’t look good and even if Josh did find a generator, hooking it up to the correct equipment, starting it up and then she needed to familiarize herself with the software of each diagnostic tool would take up valuable time. Tom could pass before any answers came, which Brenda would still have to treat, if she even could. She squeezed her eyes tight. Holy hell, she couldn’t answer the realities at the moment.

Josh’s voice broke through her concentration. “Brenda? What’s the verdict? Is he going to make it? Tell me what to do. You can save him. I know it.” His earnestness grated her guilt, increasing its weight on her conscience. He had faith in her when he didn’t know her. But he knew Rachel. She ignored that train of thought.

She opened her tear-filled eyes and lifted her gaze to his. She shook her head. “No, Josh, I can’t. He’s...” She swallowed the lump of pain and anguish and betrayal working its way up from her heart. She was lying, but only partly. She might be able to save him. She might. But might wasn’t a strong enough word to put him through the pain the exams would require from him. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to unclench her jaw. “Too far gone. There’s something wrong with his lungs and his heart. His legs are beyond repair, at least for me, and his wrist...” She rubbed at her temple. “That’s all I can surmise with an initial exam before I even know where to start with his organs and ribs.”

The silence after her words accused her of losing one more person. An important one. The boy that had done so much to help her. He’d been through more than she could comprehend. Pain from losing Jenny multiplied and burned at Brenda’s soul. Two great kids who’d been meant to make it, had lost their chance, almost in Brenda’s arms.

Head bent, chin almost to her chest, Brenda allowed the tears to flow. She raised her hands to cheeks to protect her from Josh’s gaze. She couldn’t look at him again. Not after that admission. What would he think of her then?

A finger tapped her upper thigh, soft like a butterfly. Her eyes flew to Tom’s face. His eyes had opened a fraction of an inch, but he watched her, with understanding that nearly broke Brenda’s resolve to not scream with the loss.

Tom licked his lips and took a deep breath, a grimace covering his features. “It’s. Okay. I’m. Ready.”

“No, it’s not okay. I’m so sorry I can’t fix you, Tom. I want to so bad.” A sob tore apart the end of her words and she gasped with the injustice. She had the knowledge, just not the equipment.

The shake of his head barely registered. His lips parted only enough to allow whispered words to escape. “Convo. Books. Not. To. Dilbeck. Or. Dad. Keep.” He swallowed and winced. “Please. Not. Them.”

Brenda nodded. A fresh round of tears started. “Tom, I’m sorry to say this, but Jenny,” she met his pain-filled eyes, “didn’t make it. She’s gone, too.”

His answering smile took Brenda aback. He opened his eyes and looked over Brenda’s shoulder. “I. Know. Here. Now.”

Brenda looked over her shoulder into the darkened, empty corner. Nothing moved. No one was there. She faced Tom again. “Okay, tell her I said hi.” She hiccupped and started when Josh’s hand fell on her shoulder. She turned her tear-swollen eyes his way. She barely contained her sob. “Do we... do we need to do anything else?”

Josh shook his head, his eyes red-rimmed and tight, pain evident in the slash of his lips and tic in his jaw.

More pain Brenda had caused. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t save him. I don’t know what to do.” Wait, a shot of morphine might help. He was going, but there was no reason for him to be tortured until his last breath. She got up from the bed and rummaged through the cupboards, finding at the back of a drawer a small vial of morphine. Sucking up the contents with a syringe, Brenda cleared the needle of air.

“Tom, this will help, okay?” She inserted the needle-point into the catheter of the IV and injected the drug into his vein.

A glaze dulled the edges of Tom’s gaze. His eyelids relaxed and his mouth fell slack. His breathing slowed, but didn’t stop. She’d made him as comfortable as she could.

Staying there while he passed wasn’t going to help anyone else, especially since she was about to lose it - bad. “I need to gather some food and drink for Rachel and some other things – her tongue is pretty bad. Can I leave you with him, until he goes? I have other things I have to do.” Please, please, help me get away from here. Jenny died in my arms earlier. I can’t deal with another one right now.

Josh nodded. “Sure. If you find something to eat, would it be too much to ask for a bit of it?”

“Of course not. I’ll see what I can do.” Her lips wouldn’t smile, no matter how hard she concentrated. She settled for a quick jerk of her head and ducked out the door, chased by the loss of a boy who’d deserved more.

In the hall, Brenda fell against the wall and slid to the ground. She’d forgive herself this one moment of weakness. When her soul split into tiny slivers, she had to take time to pick them up and store them for later. She hadn’t known Tom long. But he and Jenny represented everything good she wanted to save in America. And everything good was being lost.

“Are you okay, Brenda?” Daniel’s accent, though silky like a cat’s purr, poured acid into wounds she was trying to cope with. He bent down and touched the soft skin at the base of her neck. Inches from the brand he’d helped scar into her flesh.

She jolted to a standing position and faced him, hands balled into fists at her sides. “Are you shitting me? Am I okay?” Arms akimbo, she looked pointedly down the hall, left and right, then back at him. “What about this tells you I might be okay? What gives you the right to even talk to me?” She stepped closer to him, her upper lip snarled and her eyes held in a squint. “I know who you are and what you’re trying to do. But if I have anything to say about it, you’ll go before Rachel or me.” Brenda poked her finger into the center of his chest. “Got it?”

Without waiting for his answer, she turned and stomped away from him. She’d set out for medical supplies and food and she wouldn’t stop until she got them. Itchy sweat soaked her back. Holy hell, she could kill him if given the chance. Her attraction had disappeared with the realization that he just might be the one with the hold over the area. The only reason she didn’t knock him off right there lay with her wounded sister and the possibility that he could help Rachel with whatever she needed to accomplish. Bastard. The solid weight of her gun at her waist comforted her... she could’ve shot him and who would blame her?

Down the hall, around the receptionist’s desk, a storage room hunkered down protected by a locked door. Brenda didn’t hesitate. She yanked the gun from her waistband and shot out the lock. Throwing her body against the door, she forced it open. The shot wasn’t subtle and in moments, Josh, Andy, Daniel and Dilbeck stood outside the gaping hole.

No one spoke, but the question on their faces spoke volumes.

Brenda thrust her hands on her hips and jutted out her chin. “What? I needed in here and I don’t have a key. I got in. Do you have a problem with that?” Oh, hell yeah. She’d had enough of the crap slinging her way.

Dilbeck looked like he might, but kept his mouth shut. Andy and Josh shook their heads and disappeared wherever they’d come from. Daniel studied her face, his unreadable. She ignored him and returned to her search. A warm fridge stored apple juice, orange juice, and cranberry juice boxes on the top shelf. On the next level, water bottles and jellies were packed close together. Saltine crackers watched her from the top of the knee-high appliance.

Brenda looked around the oversized closet. Shelves and shelves of items claimed her field of vision. An extra large pink emesis basin sat benignly on the shelf inches above the fridge. Brenda yanked it down to the floor and emptied the fridge’s contents into the square bucket. She crawled to her feet.

She’d need two more to carry the other supplies she needed. Xylocaine vials, Marcaine bottles, Vicryl sutures, and Steri-Strips filled the second bucket. She stacked the medical items on the food bucket and placed the pair on the counter.

Three aisles. Somewhere there had to be a pregnancy test. Standard urine tests were commonplace in ER departments because so many women didn’t know they were pregnant but elicited the symptoms. Like Brenda. She chewed her inner cheek. She didn’t want to find one and yet, she had to know.

Sheets, pillow cases, blankets, and gowns filled the shelves of the first aisle. Images of the last storage department she’d been in flashed in her mind. Sacred Heart’s closet had held gowns made for small infants, miniature facial tubes, and the tiniest needles one could imagine.

Brenda turned down the next aisle. Amidst numerous catheters, blood test vials, and swabs a small stack of pregnancy tests sat inconspicuously behind a pile of adult diapers. Fingers shaking, she reached for a single box. Just one. She’d only have to pee once. Or... maybe twice. She’d heard about false positives and of course false negatives. One more box joined the first. Better make certain.

Tubs cradled to her hip, Brenda walked out the open door. The men had left. First smart move on their part. She’d be one heck of a bitch if any of them saw what she carried. She forgot to check if Rachel’s room had an attached restroom.

Chapter 40: Andy

Waiting sucked. Andy leaned into the mirror of the ER cubicle he, Josh, and Daniel had been set up in. Dry, crispy skin decorated his ear rims, cheek bones, and nose. Softer, more tender flesh pinkened his forehead, cheeks, and jaw. Using his fingernail, he picked at some of the flakes, careful not to pull anything that shouldn’t come off. Dang, it itched and ached.

Daniel cleared his throat from across the room. He’d parked his ass in the visitor chair, leaving the patient bed for Andy to sit on. Josh had excused himself to use the bathroom before Brenda’s freak-out gunshot and again after. But Andy waited in the hall and Josh slipped into a room a few doors down from the one they’d been sequestered. Shit, Josh was probably holed up with Rachel.

Andy turned and faced Daniel, abandoning his attempts to clean his wounds. He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his jaw to the side. Staring Daniel down didn’t have the effect he’d wanted. Daniel just watched him with the calmest expression. Even when Andy darkened his glower, Daniel’s features didn’t change. The omission of any emotion pissed Andy off further. He was pissed and Daniel was to blame and Daniel should feel guilty.

The clock on the wall above the door hadn’t moved. In that room, time stood still at two-thirty-three. Knowing it was broken and that the time hadn’t changed according to its face didn’t stop Andy from checking every few minutes. How long would Josh be gone and just what exactly was he doing to Andy’s wife?

Adjusting his weight on his feet, Andy closed his eyes to get away from Daniel’s searching gaze. If the bastard didn’t have the decency to feel bad about what he’d done – carrying on after another man’s wife – then he didn’t deserve the courtesy of conversation or acknowledgement.

Josh walked through the door, closing it behind him. He turned, unabashed at what he’d been doing. He straightened the strap of a back pack on his shoulder.

Andy gnawed on his lip. He kept his breathing as calm as possible. If he breathed in too deep, excruciating pain shot up and down his side. He didn’t have the balls to check the wound on his own. He knew his limitations and at the moment, he didn’t want to think of being limited.

What he wanted to do was kick some ass.

Josh sank onto the patient’s bed. He didn’t lie back but the slump to his shoulders suggested he carried the weight of an elephant. He sighed but didn’t look at Andy or Daniel.

A snarl wanted to break free from Andy’s throat. He’d be damned before he gave them the satisfaction of his speaking first.

But no one spoke. Josh stared at the floor. Daniel flicked his gaze between Andy and Josh. Andy shared his time between glaring at Josh, glaring at Daniel, and imagining the ass-whipping he would love to give both of the men after his wife.

Daniel coughed into his hand, a soft possibly fake cough that rubbed Andy the wrong way. Andy rubbed at an itchy spot on his jaw line and gave in to his need to confront. “What? Why do you keep making noises like you want to talk and then you just sit there? Say something or be quiet.”

An eyebrow raised, Daniel did nothing more.

Josh cocked his head and turned his attention from the floor to Andy. “What’s wrong, Andy?”

Unsatisfied with Daniel’s response, Andy whirled on his long time friend, his long time competition. “What’d Rachel have to say? You were sure with her a long time. You two running away together?”

Josh opened his mouth, but his retort was cut off by Daniel’s bark of laughter. Andy and Josh swiveled toward him and stared. The idiot didn’t have the presence of mind to know that things were about to get ugly and he was going to be a recipient.

Daniel wiped at his eyes and spoke around his fading chuckles. “You think Rachel is having an affair with him?” He pointed at Josh.

Andy glanced at his best friend and then back at Daniel, unsure if he should be pissed for his own sake or for Josh’s. “Why not? They liked each other in college.”

Shaking his head, Daniel’s laughter increased. “But you told Rachel he’d gotten that one girl pregnant. Remember? She couldn’t respect him after that. Even if he turned out to be her Mr. Perfect, she’d never have him.”

Josh angled his head at Andy, disbelief ruddying his skin. “You said what?”

Andy couldn’t close his eyes and hide. His moment had come – at least with Josh. He scrunched up his face. “Um, yeah. Rachel was asking about you one day and I said you were out with that chick you were in a study group with. She asked if you were seeing her and I told her you got her pregnant.” He almost shrugged it away, but not before he saw the glint of anger smoldering in Josh’s eyes.

“I’ve never gotten anyone pregnant. I can’t. And you know it.” Josh clenched his hands on the edge of the hospital bed, his knuckles white.

Daniel held up his hands. “Don’t be mad. I thought you both knew.” He pierced Andy with his gaze. “She’s incapable of real love, you know. She doesn’t understand its significance. It’s because of how she was raised. Their dad wasn’t the best father, you know.” He waved his finger in the air. “But let’s not stray from the problem at hand.” He lowered his arms.

Andy broke in. “Rachel loves me. She’s married to me.”

“Marriage doesn’t mean anything. You Americans give it more importance than it deserves. Do you know that marriage in my country means loyalty? An affair isn’t an option because that isn’t a loyal act. A man or woman will kill themselves if they engage in anything that is dishonorable.” Daniel’s mouth tightened.

“And what country is yours, Daniel?” Josh’s voice was hostile with a touch of regret.

Andy couldn’t keep his eyes off his friend, but he also couldn’t stop himself from watching Daniel who seemed like a treasure trove of information in a time when Andy had never felt so disconnected.

“I don’t have one anymore.” Daniel lifted his eyebrow. “But I did. And everything I do now, I do for my original home.” He pressed his lips together, then grudgingly offered. “I don’t like either of you and you’re not worthy of knowing where I call home.”

Andy jerked his head back. Wow. He’d been called all kinds of things in his life, most he allowed to roll of his back, but who the hell did the foreigner think he was? Calling Andy not good enough? Andy leaned forward at the waist, ignoring the ache in his side. “Hey, dumbass. I’m an American – I’m more than good enough for anything you could come up with. Problem is, I’m more likely better.”

“Yes, I know you believe that. All of you do. It’s why NATO was able to pull this off. You don’t think anyone else has the audacity to cultivate a takeover on American soil.” Daniel rubbed his thighs. He altered eye contact and stared at the floor.

Josh spoke. “So you are involved in this.”

Daniel sighed, with fatigue or resignation Andy couldn’t be sure. “More than you know.”

Reality crashed in on Andy. The other two men were wrapped up in the war waging against America – one on either side, while Andy was worried about the war in his marriage and his past actions catching up to him which in the whole scheme of things was something to laugh at when no one would care about anyone’s marriage if they were all dead in the end, anyway.

“So tell us.” Andy focused on his friend and Daniel, noting for the first time the stooped angle of Josh’s back and the defensive hold to Daniel’s arms and legs.

Daniel screwed up his lips at the side, like he wanted to speak, but something wouldn’t let him. He shook his head and refused to meet their gazes.

Josh slid from the vinyl covered bed. “Enough. This is bullshit. I’ve had it.” He leaned into Daniel’s space, placing a hand on either arm rest and thrust his face inches from the other man’s. “The thing is, Daniel, I’ve just watched a good kid die from injuries he sustained while escaping his father. His father, you asshole. And you’re going to sit here and not tell me? That’s not going to fly. Start spilling something, or I swear I will find Dilbeck and let him have you.”

“Go ahead.” Daniel didn’t pull back. His voice maintained a calmness that pushed Josh back more effectively than if he’d shoved him with a team of linebackers. “Dilbeck is working with the same NATO officials I am. They’d take me, Rachel, Brenda, both of you, all of the new militia Brenda recruited, and Tom’s body. They want us in.” He lowered his voice and glanced at the closed doorway. “Dilbeck wants us in, too. He’s been promised a lot of things to help ensure NATO gets the method and maneuverability to overtake the world. They’ll do anything. I’m holding them off. For now.”

“How is taking people captive and branding them, holding anyone off?” Josh’s anger had a more controlled cut to it. Neck muscles strained under the flannel collar and his fists were held tight at his side. But he held it in. Andy’s respect for him grew.

“And how are you doing anything as Dilbeck’s captive? You had your ass kicked by Gustavson, same as us. You expect us to believe that you’re in this as a key player?” Andy snorted. “Right.”

Daniel shrugged. “You don’t have to believe it. I just don’t want you to tell Rachel. She needs to see me as a victim or she’ll never complete the testing with me.” He leaned back in his seat and fingered the swollen skin around his eye down to his lips.

Josh stood back and hooked his thumb into the loop of his pants. “Why does Rachel need you?”

Andy stepped forward, irritated with the turn in the conversation. “Who said she does?”

“She did.” Josh spared a glance over his shoulder, but returned to facing Daniel. “I went to let her go at the park and she said I had to get you out.” He pointed at Daniel. “You. She wasn’t just happy with my promise to get Andy out. I had to get you out. You. Why does she need you?”

“Because we created the tests together.” Daniel held his gaze steady, but he shifted in his seat.

“That’s not enough. If you’d created them together, and if Rachel is as smart as you say, she wouldn’t need to have the full tests. Right?” Andy’s confusion overtook his anger. Everything was going faster than he liked. He needed order, control, a semblance of significance. Nothing had a linear quality and he was having a hard time following.

Josh answered for Daniel. “It would seem they created the tests in tandem but separately, correct?”

“Yes. I’m the stratagem, she’s the device. I’ve never understood the methodology behind her tactics and she’s disinterested in the rationality behind the techniques utilized in attacks and counterattacks.” Daniel held up his hand. “What can I say? We had a short time period to come up with POW torture devices and instead...” He smiled, a lopsided grin due to his injuries that made light of their nation’s damages.

“Instead what? What are you to her? Why does she need you? Why does NATO need her? What the hell do these tests do?” Josh lost it. His yells penetrated the walls and his anger pressurized the room.

Andy hung back. Only a stupid man got in Josh’s way when he reached the boiling capacity of a kettle. Andy had been more affected by Rachel’s distancing herself over the past two years than he’d initially thought. He couldn’t bring himself to care more than feel anger or logical disgust. He wasn’t scared. Not for himself anyway. What if NATO captured him? He’d been burned pretty bad. He’d survived the gym. He’d lived through the forest burial and torture from Gustavson. He hadn’t died when he saw Rachel or when he had to tell Josh what he’d done so many years ago. The only thing NATO could do was crush his country – where his children lived. And that was the only thought, the only possibility that offered him the fear of God.

Daniel didn’t answer. Josh waited, a sign his anger had dimmed enough for rational thinking. Andy repeated Josh’s question. “Instead what? Fall for you? Doubtful. We need to know what those tests are designed to do.”

Leaning forward, Daniel rested his elbows on his knees and placed his head in his hands. The room waited – as if it held its breath. He pushed up, his back straight and nodded. Jaw firm, his voice solid, he met their gazes, first Josh and then Andy. “Take over the world.”

Chapter 41: Rachel

The door opened, pulling Rachel from her stupor. The panel closed before she could make out who the visitor had been. She searched the slits of the horizontal blinds and then her empty room, but didn’t find any answers.

She waited for someone to come and get her. Or warn her. Or let her know everything would be okay. Brenda had most likely been checking on her. She forced herself to relax into the hard, unwelcoming triage bed. Nothing to worry about. The swelling in her tongue had reduced and she could inhale and exhale without having to concentrate on the actions.

Tom had been hurt pretty severely in the torture room. Brenda’s verbal diagnoses in the ambulance had been hard to focus on with the throb in Rachel’s head competing with the electric pulse in her mouth. His prognosis didn’t look good.

Rachel couldn’t close her eyes. She didn’t want to see the devastation greed over her tests had caused. Her tests. Tears filled her eyes. She glanced at the door for any witnesses. Another breakdown was moments away and her vulnerability held more dangerous undertones than if she walked out of that room with a gun in each hand.

Could it be possible that the fall of America came about because of Rachel? Tears flowed down her cheeks and a hiccup escaped, jarring her pain-riddled tongue. Her silent sobs cradled a moan. A minute passed and then another. Her crying jag decreased. She wiped her cheeks.

Just in time.

Brenda knocked on the door, then pushed it open, her arms full of pink rectangular basins. “Hey, I got some juices for you. Should be easy enough to swallow, at least it isn’t anything solid. Might sting.” She closed the door and turned to Rachel, who hoped she’d erased any evidence of her weakness. Eyebrows drawn together, Brenda closed in on Rachel and set the buckets on the table next to her. “Are you alright? Is the pain bad?”

Rachel considered nodding to get Brenda off her back. The concern, while sincere, hit a wall in Rachel. They hadn’t been close in a while. Rachel hadn’t been able to open up to her sister in so long, even discussing the weather felt unnatural. But she needed help from Brenda and couldn’t ask her without being open about what she was going through. At least as much as her tongue would allow.

She shook her head and held her hand up to scribble in the air.

“A pen?” Brenda turned and looked around the room. A dry erase board with magnetic marker hung from the wall. She yanked both from their attachments and placed them on Rachel’s lap. “Here you go. This should work.”

Rachel ignored the box sitting on the top of the supplies on her table. She didn’t want to think about Brenda being pregnant right then. What she considered would be traumatic enough for both of them and adding in more sentimental variables would only decrease the odds of success.

Grabbing the blue marker, she pulled the cap off with slow intent. She needed to see him. He’d help her get through it, but only if she had enough courage to ask. Tip to board, she wrote slow, careful to keep her head back enough her tongue didn’t block her throat. Her handwriting wasn’t the best, but Brenda could read it. “I need to see Daniel. No one else. Go take that test and when you get back, we need to talk.”

Her sister shook her head. “I won’t talk to that jackass, Rachel.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. She wrote fast and added an exclamation point with a few extra dots. “Get him!...”

Brenda grabbed the pregnancy test box and shoved it under her shirt. She left the room. One minute or five passed. Rachel couldn’t be sure. Then a knock.

Daniel poked his head in and then his body followed. He closed the door. Turning to her, he studied Rachel’s face with his one good eye. His bruises and cuts appeared just shy of fresh and his limp seemed more exaggerated as he crossed to the chair opposite the bed. A loud screech filled the room as he tugged the seat closer to her bed.

Sitting, he crossed his ankle over the opposite knee. He studied her, his eye taking in everything. “Well, don’t we make a fine pair, mi amore?”

And her tears started again, this time with less inhibition. He’d never betray her. He couldn’t. They’d been through too much together. She pulled the board to her chest and wrote, even as her eyes poured out her heart. “We need to finish the tests. I’m not sure why they want them. But we have to finish them.”

Daniel nodded, ignoring her tears. He knew she didn’t relish her emotions. She hated that when she was angry, happy, or sad, she cried. The only time she’d never cried was when she was afraid.

Rachel swiped her hand across the board and started fresh. “How far did they get in the method?”

Daniel grabbed his ankle with his hand and ticked his free fingers on the side of his chair. “Biological warfare – they attacked the eastern seaboard with a cyanobacteria designed to infiltrate the sewage and water aquifers of the coast. They’re attracted to treated water and the chemicals. The effects would have been noticed last week, but another earthquake ripped New York from the States and it’s now in the sea.” He leaned forward, dropping his ankle, unperturbed that he spoke about New York’s disappearance like some neighbor’s dog. “It’s going to take a day or two for the bacteria to reach the new coast and seek. NATO had planned to hit California but all the earthquakes and other disasters did a lot, so they waited for more disasters to hit the country.”

Rachel’s stomach twisted at the side smile he didn’t even try to hide. She swiped the board. “Are you working with them?”

The smirk slid from his face. He nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line. Hands folded, he watched his thumbs tick against each other. Rachel waited for him to explain. Barely noticeable, he started speaking, slow and halting. “I... well, I was. I’m... there’s a lot more going on than just choosing sides, you know? Some major, shall we say, players have been taken out and others... in positions have had to be moved around.” He wiped at his dry forehead. “I’m a player, but not a significant one. Just... a... pawn. Like you. They want me for my part... in the tests... like you.”

But not like her. He worked with them, had been involved in more than he shared and still, he had a semblance of righteousness like he was in the right. Rachel’s stomach clenched further. As much as she trusted Daniel, his motivations weren’t clear. He wasn’t being forthcoming. And if she allowed herself to profile him, she’d have to accept he had the demeanor of a guilty man, even as much as he knew how to hide things.

“What do they want from me?” She focused on keeping her writing informal, loose. He’d been more of a strategist and less of a psychologist in behavior and hopefully wouldn’t catch on to the choppiness of her higher letters which suggested her attitude toward him had changed.

But Daniel’s gaze had focused on the ground and he gave little indication that he’d seen the board or her facial expressions. Rachel tapped the board and he looked up.

His eyelids fluttered, just the slightest defection – stronger on the left than the right. Daniel’s telling tic when he was about to try to lie or omit something. She’d picked up on it the third hour she’d been with him in designs. The clues would be in the details. “”They want the blueprints. We finished enough in the staging procedures that they gathered from the rest of the team, now they just need the final tests. You have the last in the batch.”

She bent her head over the board and wrote smaller to fit everything on the space. “How do they know about our methodology? Did you give them the strategy? What will they do if I give the plans to them? Who will they use them on?”

Daniel’s brow creased as he read her questions. He heaved a sigh and rubbed a hand on his thigh. He cleared his throat. And his eyelids fluttered. “I told them... and yes, I gave them everything I had. I don’t know what will happen when they have them. I didn’t get a chance to ask.”

And the lie. Plain and clear. Their plan had been written out specifically for world domination and control. Not for power, but for control – two entirely different things in the psychological realm. If someone had power, they could ask, bribe, cajole, coerce, and anything else in an effort to get others to act how they wanted. But with control – manipulation wasn’t contingent on the choice to act, rather on the capability. Once the maneuvers were in place, if enacted out appropriately, Rachel’s theoretical outcome included a mindset in the survivors that would equal that of a, for lack of a better word, zombie. The person’s emotions and personality would have been damaged to such an extent their idea of individuality would have disappeared and they would no longer have secrets or internal desires. Everything would reside on the controller’s wants and needs. Ideal for an association of leaders intent on taking down the world’s major power.

Using the sheet corner to erase the board, Rachel concentrated on the strategy she’d seen two years before in Daniel’s room. He’d written it out, had taken care to place it in a linear solution. Rachel wrote, “Can you show me the strategy using a flow chart?” Daniel thought in an A-through-Z manner, but Rachel couldn’t see the personality of conflict and consequences unless he put it in a results-type outline.

He nodded and took the board. Rachel resented his acquisition. She had no voice. No way to talk. And he’d taken her tool. But his slashing strokes and quick circles took less than a minute and he handed back the board. Her control. Her power. A sense of relief filled her.

The board had been her trigger. With one small transfer, she’d lost the capability to feel secure, even though her safety and position hadn’t changed. The inklings of a plan formed, but with her new suspicions, Rachel didn’t dare share them with Daniel. She pulled the board to her lap. His strategy hadn’t changed, in fact, the details were smoother and more thought out than the rough draft she’d originally seen. This new version had every variable covered with the acquisition of her final blueprints. Except one...

Chapter 42: Brenda

Brenda found the bathroom a few doors down from Rachel’s room. The sudden darkness after the door closed startled her. She wedged the overturned garbage can between the door and the jamb.

Close to growling at the slim lighting, Brenda turned back to the stalls. She’d be lucky to see the toilet to pee in let alone the stick she was supposed to aim at – two at that. Maybe she didn’t need to know right then. Chances were high that she wasn’t pregnant. She hadn’t had more than a solid meal in a week and her stress level had been through the roof. Not to mention, her exercise had taken a drastic turn. So many reasons for being late or having an absent period. Rape didn’t always result in pregnancy.

She jerked the boxes open and dumped the contents on the counter. The boxes and instructions ended up abandoned. She grabbed the sticks and went into the closest stall, leaving the door open to see what she was doing. She wouldn’t be able to flush, but no big deal.

Aiming for the general direction, Brenda used both sticks at once. She looked at the mirror above the counter, the ceiling, the dim floor. She finished and left the sticks on the counter while she arranged her clothing and used the paper towels to wipe her hands. Great. Germs, germs, germs. At least she didn’t have to worry about anyone coming behind her and using the counter. Blech.

A shout from the hallway slit the silence into multiple pieces. Brenda grabbed the capped tests and shoved them in her back pocket. Outside the bathroom, three of the people Brenda had brought with her huddled by the foot of the stairs. Dilbeck rushed to their side, and Brenda hung back.

A woman sobbed. One of the men doubled over and heaved.

“What happened?” Dilbeck put his hand on the other man’s shoulder. He actually seemed like he cared.

The man’s voice shook as he spoke, his face pale and emotionless. “We were checking out the floors like you said...” He swallowed. “And we came to the Labor and Delivery ward.” He pressed his fingers to his eyes, but continued speaking. “The babies... and the moms. I don’t... one of us stepped on something... I can’t be certain but...” He closed his mouth and shook his head.

Brenda took a deep breath and ducked around the corner. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand and looked up. Oh, hell. Babies. She didn’t want to see them dead. She didn’t want to hear about them dead. She didn’t want to be pregnant with one – at least not in the present circumstances and not without someone to lean on.

The sobbing continued, overlapped with murmurs of assurances and comfort. Brenda breathed in, out, in, out, and reached into her pocket. The tests had a time frame and she had to read them or her attempts in the dark bathroom would be wasted. She palmed the small items, head back and unable to glance down. She didn’t want to know. Her breath came in puffs. She couldn’t stay there.

She lifted her head and looked down. If she moved her hand two inches to the right, the tests would be in a shaft of light from the exit door down the hall. Two inches. She could do it. Brenda could do it. In one move, too fast for her to reconsider, she waved her hand into the light.

A plus sign. Twice. Two of them. Two yeses. Two. One minus sign would have canceled out the other, but there she had two and they shouldered the responsibility. She sighed and dropped her hand, squeezing the purple and white sticks in her fingers. Releasing them, Brenda ignored the clatter when they struck the linoleum flooring.

Rachel’s room wasn’t that far. Brenda could make it before she hyperventilated. The bastard may or may not still be in there, but she didn’t give a damn. He had to get out. Brenda clenched her fists. She needed a minute.

Tormented footsteps carried her to the door. She burst inside without knocking, and nearly choked on the tension. The heavy door closed behind her.

Rachel and Daniel didn’t turn their heads. They maintained their locked gaze and didn’t flinch with her arrival.

Brenda clapped her hands. “Hey!” She pointed at Daniel and moved beside Rachel’s bed. “Get out. Now.” Rachel broke eye contact first and directed her astonishment at Brenda. Brenda shrugged. “I need a couple minutes. The asshole can wait outside.” She placed her hands on her hips and lifted her chin. In the silence, her hard breathing spoke volumes.

A sharp jerk of Rachel’s fingers and Daniel stood, his jaw tight. “I’m not done discussing this, Rachel.”

Brenda didn’t move as he headed to the door. He met her gaze and arched his brow. “You might like me, if you heard my story.” His lips softened and his eyes shaded.

“Doubtful. I’m not the type to like sadists.” Brenda didn’t spare him another second. The door ticked shut and she rushed to claim his chair. And she lost it. Just plain lost it. In front of her sister, no less. But the embarrassment paled in comparison to the facts and realities swirling around her. She didn’t like the gradual reveal of information. She preferred answers in large chunks close together, if not all at once.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Brenda glanced up from her palms where she’d thrust her face. Rachel tapped on the whiteboard with her fingernail. Her lips were rimmed in white and her eyes wide. On the board she’d written, “Are you okay? What happened? We have to make this fast, I know how to fix all this.”

Fix all of what? And of course, it had to be fast. Brenda’s problems never warranted an hour, they got fifteen minutes, if she was lucky. But at the moment, she’d take it. Then her self-righteous sister could have Daniel back and Brenda would ride off on a white horse with Josh. Psht. Right.

“Okay, well.” Brenda swallowed and dropped her hands, sick with either hormones or reality. “I’m pregnant. Yep, just took a test – or rather two of them – and, yep. So...” She couldn’t bring herself to add the discovery of the babies upstairs, or the fact that she didn’t know what to do about the baby in her stomach. No matter what, she was going to need prenatal care.

Rachel withdrew the board and erased the words. She scribbled furiously before flipping it back to face Brenda. “We can get you through that. I promise. Pregnancy is nothing. You’re healthy and in shape. How far along?”

“Nine weeks. But I’m not eating well and I don’t have prenatal vitamins. I don’t even have an obstetrician.” Brenda wanted to wallow in her grief for just a minute and Rachel couldn’t allow it. Brenda was about to pull out her sister’s hair like when they were little.

Shaking her head, Rachel turned the board again and swiped it clean and wrote more. “Baby will be fine. Focus. We can fix this. Baby could be born in normal world.”

Brenda ignored the choppy nature of Rachel’s writing. Like texting, she just had to get the words out fast. Her meaning was clear and yet ambiguous. “What do you mean normal? This hell isn’t going to be cleaned up in seven months.”

Rachel held up her hand and listened, cocking her head to the side and looking at the door.

In a lower voice, Brenda addressed Rachel. “No one’s out there listening. Who don’t you trust?” Brenda looked at the door, then at her sister who had turned her attention back to Brenda. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Is it Daniel?” The bastard dripped suspicious motives, but Dilbeck had to clear Brenda’s concern, too. She sat back on the chair at Rachel’s slight nod. “Seriously?” She self-consciously pressed the edges of her burn, the scab scraping her fingertip and whispering against her shirt material. “Yeah, I can see that.”

Rachel stared at the door. Brenda waited. Her sister had more going on in that head of hers than most people could comprehend. But Brenda had seen her at work. She’d experienced the scheming, the manipulation, the planning, and she knew better than anyone to stay the heck out of Rachel’s way when she chose to do something.

Very slowly, as if expecting the world to detonate further if she moved too fast, Rachel pulled the board close against her body and hunched over the white space, pen in hand. She wrote, small as she could. Hair loose from her rubber-band swayed across the markings. Even in a hospital bed, Rachel’s slight vulnerability was barely perceptible. The gauze bandage on her forehead only added to the mystery surrounding her. Mystery that shouldn’t be present for her sister.

Brenda picked at the cuticle of her thumb while she waited. A thousand facts bombarded her. She had plenty to think about, but nothing to assuage her confusion.

She started at the tapping from Rachel’s finger on the board. The words were cramped but easy to read. “I have to complete my tests. Daniel has to be here, but don’t trust him. He can’t run them and I need physiological aid as well as medical monitoring. You have to help me finish these methods.”

Eyes brimming with tears, Rachel held out her hand.

Without thinking, Brenda grabbed for the offered support and swallowed. Her sister’s warm skin had roughened. Brenda had seen Rachel when she’d come home from Rhode Island. The difference between when she’d left and how she’d been when she’d returned had been like night and day. Realistically, what happened on Rhode Island had nothing good to offer anyone living.  “I don’t know, Rach. Are these the same things you did on Rhode Island?”

Rachel nodded.

Brenda grimaced. “Do you have to do them? I think we should use someone else. How many more are there? Do we have to start from the beginning?” Thoughts and questions rammed their way from her mouth. “We don’t have two months to waste on this. Plus, what good will it do? The information isn’t useful unless we plan on torturing the rest of the world, right?”

Hand up, Rachel flipped the board around and erased the paragraph to start over. She lowered her hand when she finished and turned it back to Brenda. “It has to be me. I’m the only one that knows what to watch for. Already completed the majority of tests. I can be returned to that state within a matter of hours. Only four more tests. We will keep Dilbeck and Daniel to do the final test on. One week max to complete.”

A week. They could finish the methods in a week and then... what? “Why?” Confusion mixed with fear and an ache between Brenda’s shoulder blades pinched her nerves.

Chewing on her lower lip, Rachel considered the question. She swiped her hand over the markings and wrote, “’Cause we can reverse the reactions of anybody still alive. Get out from under these attacks. Prevent a total takeover. I need to do it.”

“Okay. What will I have to do?” Medical monitoring could involve more than Brenda was capable of. She wasn’t a doctor or a psychologist, or even someone that understood the mind all that much. Unless Rachel planned on having damage done to her anatomy, there wasn’t a lot Brenda could do... “Wait a minute. Do you need me to monitor your body? Like you’re going to do something dangerous?” She slapped her hand on her thigh. “Like what? What the hell are you going to do to yourself?” Rejection wouldn’t be difficult. All Brenda had to do was tell Andy what Rachel’s intentions were and he’d stop her.

Frustrated slashes with the pen across the again-cleared board spelled out, “Hunger, dehydration, pain administration, chemical manipulation, pH, and temperature imbalance, etc.” She swiped it again, ignoring Brenda’s incredulous grunt.

Two single sentences burned into Brenda’s brain with more searing quality than the brand on her neck. “And I’m not going to do it. You are.”

Chapter 43: Andy

“Are we waiting for him to return?” Andy whispered to Josh. When Daniel had left, he’d failed to close the door and Dilbeck or his followers might linger outside, waiting to eavesdrop on anything Andy and Josh might say. Like they had the secrets everyone wanted.

Josh matched Andy’s tone. “Yeah, for now. We can’t do anything until we know what Brenda and Rachel are doing.”

“I say we grab the girls and get out of here. We don’t need the rest of the world. We can disappear into the woods. We’re prepared for another two years. Let them destroy the entire planet and then we’ll repopulate the earth.” Andy bobbed his head with his words. He was a little anxious to get the hell out. Dilbeck was less than trustworthy and the dull pain in his side had sharpened into an acute slash. When he moved too fast, red flashes crossed his vision.

“That’s an idea.” Josh met Andy’s gaze and then rolled his eyes. “But I don’t like it enough to carry it out. Plus, I won’t be doing any repopulation.”

Andy snorted and leaned to the side in his chair to release the pressure on his side.

Josh continued. “Look, I don’t know why, but Daniel and Dilbeck are up to something and I plan on sticking with them. If nothing else, maybe we can contact other militia or other radio people out there and see how they’re holding up. I’d like to be able to tell my future family some day that I did everything I could to help others when the apocalypse came.”

Interesting concept. And irritating that Andy hadn’t considered it. Plus, Josh couldn’t have kids – who did he plan on telling? A knock on the door cut Andy’s thoughts off.

Daniel pushed the partially open door against the wall and arched his one good eyebrow their way. He inclined his head. “Gentlemen.”

Readjusting his position to address Daniel fully, Josh squared his jaw. “You left before we could understand exactly what your role is in this whole affair. You said you and Rachel designed a way to take over the world and then Brenda pulled you away. I’d like you to finish your explanation.” Josh held his crossed arms over his chest and watched Daniel from under hooded eyes. Andy would give anything in that moment to understand Josh’s emotions.

“I’d like to know what you meant by your last statement.” Andy scoffed. “Take over the world? Really? We’re supposed to believe that you and Rachel came up with tests designed to take over the world?” He glanced at Josh whose expression had hardened into stone, but lacked even a trace of disbelief. “What did you think you were going to do? Reestablish the fourth Reich?” The argument didn’t hold any weight. That kind of hatred wasn’t in existence anymore. Couldn’t be.

Daniel met his gaze and nodded. “Precisely.”

Andy’s concept of the world crashed somewhere at his feet.

“What?” Josh uncrossed his arms and hooked a thumb into his front pocket. He motioned with his other hand. “Like you’re Hitler and she’s your General and you were going to go after the rest of the world with these tests?”

Daniel closed the door and leaned against it. He shook his head. “No. The Fourth Reich isn’t exactly what we were going for. There are believers and followers that are, still, to this day trying to reconfirm what Hitler started. They segregate against a handful of specific stereotypes or characteristics. That’s not what the Rhode Island Psyche Project was about.” He fell silent, lost in thought.

Andy thumped the arm chair. Where in holy hell had humanity gone? “Then explain it.”

Daniel breathed in deep and nodded. “Okay. Well, think of it this way. The Third Reich or just Hitler himself wanted to rule the world by terror, domination, and killing. They want a specific people to live and the rest to...” He lifted his hands. “Die.”

Josh filled the silence. “And what does the Rhode Island Project want to do?”

“Put simply, establish control. Not rule anything. Control.” Daniel shifted into a pacing position, his steps taking him from one side of the small room to the other. He motioned with his hands as he spoke. “There’s a way you can control the entire world, but only if you hold the power house in your hands. NATO is a conglomeration of all the power houses in the world, including America. But Americans, in general, don’t tolerate tyranny. You guys have your guns, your beliefs that you’re unstoppable and that anything is possible.” Daniel shrugged. “This is the only country where people believe they can rise from poverty to riches by inventing something ridiculous or by working at it.”

“But we’re not the only country that has capitalist backing.” Josh’s hard features hadn’t softened. He looked like he knew the answers, but wanted to hear them before acting.

“You’re right. But you’re the only country that came from prisoners and prostitutes and in a short span of less than two-hundred years dominated the world. Australia had similar beginnings but can’t claim primary power. NATO wants that power. And since NATO gets the American classified info and the benefit of planning behind America’s back because the US delegates are too busy looking at non-allied countries, they’ve had years to plan against you.” Daniel came to a stop beside the bed and rested his hip on its edge.

“How long has this planning been going on?” Andy pinched his inner arm to distract himself from the increasing pain in his side. The slight sting did nothing to confuse his focus and his side continued to beat against his nerves.

“Longer than I’ve been alive.” Daniel offered a short laugh. “What’s ironic is they didn’t have the equipment or know-how until two psychology majors met at one of NATO’s planned conferences. That was in the early 1960s. Australian associates took out the students when it was rumored they were designing plans for world domination.” He lifted a hand. “But they weren’t. They were trying to complete a thesis based on the Pavlovian training of parachute jumpers during a war. Kind of a ‘hear three ticks and immediately know to release the chutes’ rather than ‘figure it out while dodging gunfire’. It would have been helpful during Vietnam, too. Distractions in the jungle were common and many men lost their lives while trying to remember what to do when.” He looked at his feet. A suspicious frown softened his face. “It would have worked, too.”

“So, Australia is involved?” Andy veered the conversation back on track. As informative as the monologue was, Andy needed something more specific to their situation.

“No. Actually, Australia was protecting America because of the rumors. World domination isn’t about dominating the world, it’s about controlling America, especially for NATO. They have their countries in line. America needs to be controlled. Once this country is in hand, the rest of the world will follow easily. If they don’t, a simple administration of the methods will resolve the issues.”

“So, NATO didn’t understand that their weapon could come from psychology?” Josh’s calm exterior could’ve fooled anybody but Andy. The slight shaking of his small finger gave away the turmoil inside.

Andy stood, biting the inside of his cheek at the mounting pain. He swallowed his moan. “Did you and Rachel design this for NATO?” If she had, then Andy would be justified in leaving her. He wouldn’t be able to do it, but he’d certainly want to and have a reason. He’d have an explanation for his confused emotions... toward his wife.

Daniel developed a slight tic in his eyelids. “No. Let me clarify. NATO didn’t approach me for the plans until well after the Project. I have no idea how they found out about our discussions. Rachel and I recovered from the testing that we designed for POWs by talking to each other. We had to discuss things that were intimate – like family details, past indiscretions, secrets no one else knows about – just to survive. I told her things I hadn’t been able to admit to myself. If I hadn’t had Rachel to talk to, I wouldn’t have been able to return as a fully functioning person.”

“Rachel saved you and you saved her, then?” The bastard had taken Andy’s job. He’d done for Rachel what she’d never allowed Andy to do. Ire roiled inside his body like acid let loose on his organs. Jealousy really could kill someone. At that moment, Andy was jealousy and he could kill Daniel.

“Yeah, but I think she saved me more than I saved her. She had a family back home to think about, plan on seeing again... until... well, until one of the methods we co-created convinced her otherwise. Then I became her ‘family’, if you will.” Daniel lifted his shoulder and dropped it carelessly.

Unable to maintain his slipping control a moment longer, Andy lunged from his chair, ignoring the lightning in his side, dwelling under his skin. He scrambled at Daniel’s throat with fingers that suddenly didn’t want to cooperate. But a momentary freeze on his finger movement didn’t stop him from pulling back his fist and letting it fly. The solid connection of knuckles on bone dulled the pain in his body and the endorphins raged.

But before he could enjoy another solid one placed randomly on the bastard’s body, Andy’s arms were pulled from behind. He gave into the pressure removing him from Daniel. He glanced around at Josh, not quite sure why his friend had stopped him and curious what was in it for him.

Josh jerked his head to the side.

Andy wrenched from his hold, but stayed off his victim. Over his shoulder, he slung at Josh with new-found rage, “Why do you care anyway? We’d be better off without him.”

In a low voice filled with sincerity, Josh murmured. “For Rachel. She wants him intact. That’s good enough for me.”

Rachel. Everything revolved around Rachel. Andy understood it, but the orbiting was his job and every other man in the vicinity thought more about what his wife wanted than he did. Daniel and Josh, most likely Dilbeck, and who knows who else. They all wanted something from her. But what about Andy? He had a sneaking suspicion it wouldn’t matter what answers she gave him. He just wanted his life back. He wanted to erase the knowledge that she couldn’t love him the way he loved her. An amazing slam to the years of their marriage to realize that she’d been acting like everything meant something to her, when in fact she couldn’t comprehend the emotional investment involved. If Andy’s side didn’t hurt so damn bad, he might feel like he’d been punched in the gut.

He fell into the chair by the wall and leaned his head back. If he didn’t get the pain under control, he’d be worthless. Not that anyone needed him.

All three men fell into silence. A far-off wailing and sobs eked through the closed door, but it could’ve been Muzak tunes for all the notice it engaged. Andy stole a glance at Daniel and looked away. A new slash on the man’s cheekbone oozed fresh blood. The site didn’t appease Andy’s issues with Daniel, but the throb in his hand helped.

Before someone else could address the attack and undo the good feeling Andy cultivated about his thrown punch, he blurted into the room on a whim, “I want to head back home. See what I can see.” Nobody acknowledged him. He continued. “You guys don’t need me. Rachel isn’t even asking for me. I could do something out there.”

Daniel cleared his throat, but Andy cut a sharp look his direction which silenced his intentions. Andy appealed to Josh. “Get me out of here. I can check on the kids and our places, maybe even do something more.” Josh looked like he was about to argue, but Andy made one last plea. “Don’t make me sit here and watch as the rest of you fight over my wife.”

And what could they say? It was true. Each one wanted something. Andy was perhaps the only one that didn’t.

Josh was quiet. Daniel bounced his attention between Josh and Andy. But Andy wasn’t worried. Josh would help him get out. Whether he came or not, he’d make sure Andy escaped. His nod confirmed it.

Daniel groaned and pointed a finger at Andy, raising his voice, his calm finally slipping. His gaze bore into Josh. “Damn you. We need him.”

“You think we do, but we don’t. Rachel will do what she needs to without Andy here.” Adamant, Josh stood and pulled Andy to his feet. He studied Andy’s face, the line of his jaw solid and unmoving. “I’ll come with you, but only until we get out of the city limits. I have to come back and make sure Rachel and Brenda are okay.” Under the sound of Daniel’s negations, Josh whispered, his lips moving fast, “You won’t make it far leaking that much blood. You need to get some gauze and press it in. I’m only helping you go because they aren’t saving anyone here, Andy. Tom’s dead and nobody cares.” He paused in sync with Daniel’s pause.

Daniel raised his volume. “Are either of you even listening to me? This is suicide. It’s stupid...”

Josh rolled his eyes and spoke faster. “I’ll tell Brenda what’s going on, but something is off with Rachel. And I need to see what else Dilbeck is up to. The man might be a double.” He gripped Andy’s arm and pushed him toward the door, past Daniel who stopped talking and watched them.

Nodding at the bastard, Andy forced himself to ignore the desire to limp. He’d always heard of sciatica, maybe he had it now, the pain crippling from his right hip down to his ankle. He’d need new teeth when the world was restored, he clenched and unclenched his jaw so much.

Josh pushed Andy against the wall in the hallway. “I’ll be right back. Can’t have him reporting us missing any time soon, right?” Without waiting for an answer, Josh returned inside the room. A solid pow and a deeper thud preceded his return. A crooked grin on his face, Josh pulled the door shut, a backpack slung over his shoulder. “That felt good. I hated watching you hit him and not do anything about it, but, man, you gotta get a hold of that wound. You have blood dripping on the ground.” He pointed and Andy followed his finger with his eyes.

A bright red puddle, about the diameter of a salad plate, gathered by his foot on the floor. He hadn’t stood there long. The sight of the shiny liquid gave him a fuzzy feeling in the back of his neck. Odd. “I didn’t realize it was so bad. It hurts, but...”

He couldn’t draw his eyes away from the puddle. Josh nudged him and then pulled his arm, steering Andy down the hall and around a large desk. In a room with a destroyed door, Josh stopped and let go. From shelves he pulled sheets and towels and tossed them at Andy’s feet. “Lift up your shirt and rip off that worthless bandage. We need to get to Brenda and see if she can stitch you before we go.”

“That’ll take too long. Bastian will wake up.” The fuzziness etched his vision into some sort of a computer graphics program. Things took on a different dimension.

“No. I’m hoping they see us going in the room. It’ll buy us some time. Daniel’s down for a bit. It was a solid hit on the back of the head.” Josh yanked the edge of Andy’s shirt up and stepped back. “And, shit, Andy. You’re not going to make it very far without doing something. I can’t sew.”

Truth. Josh couldn’t sew. He was a man’s man. But... Andy’s focus slipped. A man’s man. Man’s man. Hmmm.

Josh stared at him, waiting for something. Andy scrunched his forehead. “I’m supposed to say something, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Let’s go see Brenda.” Josh pressed a wadded sheet to Andy’s side. Andy groaned. “Come on, buddy, not far and we’ll get your blood loss under control.”

Andy stumbled along beside Josh. His friend’s hand was tucked under his shirt, holding the makeshift dressing to his aggravated wound. Hopefully Brenda wasn’t with Rachel. Andy didn’t know what to say to her after everything had happened. They hadn’t had a proper reunion since he fell into the flames.

Chapter 44: Rachel

Rachel hid her scowl. Her sister could be so selfish sometimes. Yes, Rachel understood that Brenda was pregnant, and at a terrible time, too, but the probability of success was 52% and with the statistics unverifiable at the current state of the country, 52% was unbelievable and something Rachel couldn’t turn away from. If Brenda would commit her complete assistance, the probability would raise four more points. A list of variables that would increase the rate ran through Rachel’s mind. Get Brenda, eliminate the risk of Andy and Josh discovering – ergo get them to leave – convince Daniel she worked on the method for him and NATO to complete the blueprints when in fact she would complete them for the aftereffects and trigger-releases.

“Can you spell out exactly what I’m going to be doing?” Brenda whined.

If Rachel’s tongue worked right, she’d lash out at her sister. Come on. Rachel’s kids were out there all alone when Brenda should have been with them, safe in the woods. Rachel swallowed, relieved to find she could still complete the action. Shouldn’t be too long before she could talk in spurts. She leaned over the board and wrote, “We’ll cover that with each method. Can I get your promise you’ll do what I need? No matter what?”

Brenda hunched her shoulders. She twisted her fingers back and forth and looked everywhere but at Rachel.

Rachel grunted deep in her throat, catching Brenda’s attention. Her sister nodded slowly. Rachel leaned back in relief. She could do the rest of it as long as she could trust the initiator implicitly. Brenda irritated the hell out of Rachel, but she was reliable and she had promised – something Brenda never went back on.

The door opened. Josh pushed through, leading Andy. Rachel’s husband.

Brenda jumped from her seat and rushed to Andy’s side. Between her and Josh, he made it to the abandoned chair and slumped to the cushioned seat. Josh closed the door and Brenda asked the question screaming through Rachel’s head. “What happened?”

Rachel choked the marker in her hand, but no one noticed.

“He needs you to stitch up his side. It’s open again and bleeding like you wouldn’t believe. Can you fix it?” He and Brenda shared a look, something flying between them that pissed Rachel off for no apparent reason.

A small smile blurred the edges of anxiety on Brenda’s face. She turned to the drawers and pulled out item after item which she rested on the table at Rachel’s side. Rachel caught her eye and arched her brow. A blush spread across Brenda’s cheeks. She shrugged, placing another sterilely wrapped tool beside the rest. “I can fix someone. Finally.”

Watching Josh and Brenda and their maneuvering around each other stirred up a jealous rush of anger through Rachel. They’d shared an intimate moment – something that couldn’t be reproduced in a sterile environment. She watched them. Josh held Andy in a slanted position while Brenda lifted his shirt and tossed a bright red splotched linen piece into the corner.

“Yep, that’s the omentum there. We don’t want to see that.” Brenda tapped Andy’s shoulder with her finger. “Andy, listen up. I can’t put you out. I don’t have that type of medication or the monitoring for it. I’m going to give you a few locals, but they won’t work as well as we need, okay? Hopefully, you pass out.” Brenda lifted her head to Josh and nodded.

He clenched his arms around Andy’s shoulders and held on to prevent him from thrashing and doing more damage. “What’s the omentum?”

“Essentially, the fatty tissue overlying the intestines. Not what we want to see.” She turned from Andy and reorganized the table at Rachel’s side. “I have to connect multiple layers with sutures. This isn’t the best room for a procedure so involved.”

“It’s the best we have.” Josh’s voice calmed the mounting tension in the room. Rachel didn’t know where it had come from, but when the level of heightened awareness dissipated, its absence was palpable. Josh’s words were clearly meant for Brenda, but the subtle lilt in his tone reached Rachel in her bed. “He passed, not long after you left. I don’t think he was in pain. You did good.”

Rachel’s palms itched.

Brenda’s back was to her, so Rachel couldn’t see her reaction. Someone had died. Probably Tom. The truth was unfortunate. It’d be even worse if Daniel had died. Coldly, Rachel had to acknowledge that once again her motives had more importance than how they were achieved. Tom wouldn’t have helped her plan. She wouldn’t have wanted to experiment on him – not that anyone would have let her. He’d been injured enough to keep Brenda away from completing the tests on Rachel. And if Daniel died, who would stabilize the influencers once Brenda formed the foundation for application?

Nope, Tom was better off. Daniel was in for some testing which he had no idea to expect. Rachel closed her eyes and shuddered. She moved her tongue against the roof of her mouth. She didn’t want to complete the tests. The terror would return – her ability to feel fear would have to reinstate itself. If it didn’t, the tests would be useless and she’d never find the triggers to help release the rest of the country.

Brenda hunched over Andy but drew Rachel’s attention. “So, Rachel, if I’m doing this, can you at least tell me how much of the damage that’s been done can be reversed?” She poked the air over her shoulder with a needle. Josh shifted his focus to Rachel.

Wrapping her arm around the board, Rachel wrote her answer. Josh read it out loud to Brenda. “Josh doesn’t need to know this. But, yes, the majority of the damage will be restored except for a few fear replacements and trust issues. In theory.” Josh arched his eyebrow at Rachel, his lips tight and firm.

“I don’t mind him knowing. He’s on our side, right? I don’t mean the country, I mean you. Will you be how you were before Rhode Island?” Brenda’s arm lifted and lowered. A sound, part scream part groan, exited Andy. His body jerked then relaxed completely. Brenda sighed. “He’s out. Not the way I wanted to put him under, but I’ll take it.”

Oddly touched by Brenda’s concern for her and resolving not to be distracted by Andy’s circumstance, Rachel wrote. Josh read, “The methodology is designed to reset after completion of the entire process. Not meant to be completed – kind of a permanent hold over participants.”

Her sister snorted. “Participants? You mean victims.” She threaded a needle and began a rhythmic stroke, arm up, arm down, up, down, the stitches and flesh out of Rachel’s sight.

Brenda would pick up the alternate side. The issue was debatable, but not by much. Rachel’s hand fell slack. She didn’t want to argue semantics with Brenda while her husband’s visceral organs lay revealed feet from where Rachel lay. Josh’s eyes met hers and a profound sadness washed over Rachel.

If he had been a different person back in college, she might have turned out different herself. More likely not, but what-ifs made up her profession. Since she couldn’t calibrate her feelings, she’d take pleasure imagining her failings belonged as someone else’s responsibility.

She sighed and leaned back, breaking eye contact. If she could get out of her head for even just a moment, she might find some relief. The possibilities and consequences of each path wore her down. Rachel wouldn’t benefit from more than one or two directions, each of which she’d need Brenda. None of which required Josh or Andy. Getting rid of them before they became liabilities rocketed up her list of priorities.

Brenda changed needles, threaded the new one and engaged in the up-down dance once more. Bent forward, Brenda’s neck pulled away from the collar, exposing the darkened edges of her angered wound. The letters and trident-like shape represented more than a simple Project, more than even the psi symbol meant to the rest of the world – psychology. The brand was a message from Daniel.

A tattoo, achieved by force – the reward of one of Rachel’s first tests marked every member’s skin like a high class gang – blood in and blood out. Once she’d designed a method and it’d been tested successfully, she’d been drugged and “branded”. The damn thing was a silent contract and Daniel allowing it to be burned into Brenda’s neck declared Brenda wasn’t out unless by another way – like Rachel.

Brenda in. Rachel in. Rachel out. Brenda out. But the meaning hadn’t taken hold until Daniel confirmed his participation in the NATO plan. Plain and simple. Brenda in. Rachel in.

Daniel out.

The marker squeaked on the board. Finished, she held it up and hmmed in the back of her throat for attention. Josh squinted in the dim light at her small writing. He read it out loud. “Josh and Andy need to get out of here. We can stay and get the tests done. Andy can return to the kids. Safer.”

Josh looked at Brenda, whose arm hadn’t slowed in her ministrations. He refused to address Rachel. “We were on our way when I noticed Andy bleeding. I need to get him out of here.  Did you want to go with us?”

Not both of you, but you, to Brenda. A light had dimmed in Josh’s eyes when he looked at Rachel. He’d been disillusioned about something. The only person who knew anything that would ruin someone’s opinion of her would be Daniel. She replaced the previous words with a large, bold, “Where is Bastian?”

Josh’s eyes narrowed. “In the other room. Why? Do you need him?” His tone bit into the previous calm. Daniel had told him something, but what? And how much had Andy heard?

She didn’t answer. Yes, she needed him, but Rachel had the sinking sensation if she replied in any form, it would set Josh off. Taking care of Andy was the one thing she needed him to do. While the second upcoming test had a terrible twang, the two days to complete the method would give her an out from her mind games. She almost couldn’t wait.

Chapter 45: Brenda

The cool metal needle fit Brenda’s fingers like she’d been born with one in her grasp. She ignored the identity of the patient she stitched up. Each layer she patch-worked with care. He’d lost a lot of blood. A blood pressure cuff dangled in the corner of the room, but Brenda couldn’t take the time to attach it. She’d have to check after Andy was closed.

Thankfully Rachel couldn’t talk. Josh speaking for her was a vast improvement.  Even without her voice Rachel had convinced Brenda to help her with whatever the hell it was Brenda was going to be doing.  Dehydration? Starvation? Torture? Only Rachel knew what was required and she’d conned a damn agreement out of Brenda. Bitch.

But Brenda couldn’t really lay the blame on Rachel’s shoulders. Four tests, that’s all she’d said there were. Rachel would be in better hands with Brenda than with anyone else. Brenda’s capabilities could be stretched and developed, but she had to allow it and she had to be in one-hundred percent willingly.

Silence had fallen after Rachel’s suggestion that the men leave. After Josh asked if Brenda wanted to go with them. She had the choice. She could go with Josh and Andy, escape Dilbeck and the dangers associated with Daniel and the hospital. Leave behind the request that Rachel had delivered – to apply twisted moves on her sister. The one person she wanted to reconstruct a relationship with. Maybe Rachel would let her out of the deal.

A glance over Brenda’s shoulder confirmed Rachel’s intentions. Brenda was needed. And she’d promised. “I’d love to go with you, but I have to stay and help Rachel. Can you get out and get Andy home? Maybe make contact with someone else out there? If you could, then whatever we’re doing might be able to be put to use.” She tied off the last suture and clipped the thread. Lifting her eyes to Josh’s, she smiled. She wasn’t flirting. The time wasn’t appropriate, but hopefully Josh understood she could handle seeing him again. Preferably alive. Josh had answered a question of Rachel’s that Brenda had failed to read. “Who’s in the other room?” Wiping Andy down with damp alcohol towelettes, Brenda waited for the answer. Help her if he said...

“Bastian.” Damn it. He said it.

“Well, Rachel needs him. But only until we’re done, right, Rach?” Brenda slapped a gauze pad on Andy’s clean, sutured side, and taped the edges with strips of medical tape. Shirt pulled down completed the job. At least seventy-five stitches. She’d never done that many. They weren’t pretty or even symmetrical, but they’d hold.

Nurse Brenda returned – bedside manner lack of course. “You need to keep him out of water. Watch him for fever, redness, swelling, irritation of the wound. He cannot... I repeat CANNOT run or carry anything heavy, if anything at all. If those stitches rip, he’s screwed. Especially on the inner layers. He could rip from the walls and cause more damage.” Habit caught Brenda and she wrapped the used items into a wad which she threw in the garbage. The sting of alcohol on the air improved the musty odor of unused sterile items.

“I can do that. I’m taking one of the four-wheelers. He can sit behind me. Will he be okay to lift a gun or anything?” Josh straightened Andy’s clothing and adjusted him in the chair.

Brenda bit the side of her bottom lip. “You know, I’m not sure. I guess just see how much he tolerates.” She moved to the bed and sat on the edge. “Rachel says we only need a week or so. We can take care of this. I’m sure of it. Rachel’s sure of it. Right, Rachel?”

Rachel agreed with a nod of her head and pointed between herself and Brenda.

“Yep, you and me, sis.” The words rang false in the room, but Brenda put on the façade for Josh. He needed to think there was hope, safety, or he wouldn’t leave. If Andy was there, Rachel may or may not succeed. And with Brenda in charge – yeah, right – she needed every variable minimized. “You take Andy and check on the kids. You’ll help more doing that than anything. We’ll be fine. Okay?”

Josh studied their faces, his disapproval thick in the slant of his brows and the angle of his lips. “I don’t feel right leaving you here with Daniel. The man’s not right. He branded you, remember?”

Uh, yeah. She remembered more than anyone what actions he’d taken already. Why was it every time his name came up, the burn on her neck itched? She could deal with never hearing his name again, but that wouldn’t work and it irritated Brenda that he still had any importance to Rachel. She offered a slight laugh rimmed with mild sarcasm. “Yeah, I remember. I’ll have it forever, but it’ll be a scar and I can handle that. He’s fine. We’ll handle him. I have a feeling I’m partnered with the smarter half of the Rhode Island Psycho Project.” Making fun assuaged her anger at her sister, just a bit.

Dilbeck’s voice crashed through the door. “Dr. Parker? Are you in there?” He pounded on the door, then wiggled the unlocked handle. He burst through, halting at the sudden easy entrance. He took in the sight of Brenda, Rachel, Josh, and Andy – not running. His emotions splattered across his expression like paint on a canvas. “You’re still here? Bastian said you escaped.”

Brenda stiffened. Daniel’s actions confirmed his side. Dilbeck and Daniel. They’d be her captors. She didn’t want to trade in Gustavson for Dilbeck. The first was a masochist, but at least he’d been straight and clear. Dilbeck confused individualism with communitarianism. Patriotism was the only way to handle such a situation and he was severely lacking.

“No. As you can see, we came here to get Andy’s wound taken care of. We didn’t realize we’re under lock and key. Is there a specific place we’re supposed to be?” Thinly veiled contempt covered Josh’s words. He lounged in his chair as if he wasn’t in a half-blown up hospital talking to a man who worked both sides of the world war.

Dilbeck rocked back to his heels, dropping his defensive stance and gracing them with more manners. “Of course not. You can go anywhere you like, as long I know where you are. I’d hate for anything to happen to you guys. I can see you’re more trustworthy than I was led to believe, so I’d like to invite you to stay with us as we work toward achieving revenge on NATO. Would you be interested?” His smile was oily, laced with gravel. The asshole could’ve been chip-sealed before he’d come into the room. His comments on the phone rang in Brenda’s mind.

“Can we get something to eat before we make any definite plans? I don’t know what I’m saying or doing at the moment.” Josh leaned forward and pulled himself to a standing position. “I need to grab a wheelchair for Andy. He’s a bit groggy from the blood loss. Is the cafeteria still on this level? Do we know if anything was preserved?”

Dilbeck nodded, stepping back to the side of the doorway. He poked his head out the opening and called to someone down the hall. “Can we get a wheelchair in here?” Back in the room, he answered, “Some of the newbies searched that area. It seems the cooler area is lost, but they have other nonperishable foods behind the counters. Bottles of water and other beverages are in the cases. You should be able to fill the hole, if nothing else. Would you like some assistance?”

Brenda stood. She could help Josh and Andy get out. There had to be a back way to the four-wheelers. “I’ll go. I need something to eat and Rachel could use some water. The juice I found isn’t going to do her justice.”

One of Dilbeck’s original men arrived with a chair. Dilbeck claimed it wordlessly and the man disappeared. The leader turned the chair and locked the brakes. “Is he conscious?”

“Not yet. But I’m sure he will be soon. I didn’t use medication to put him under.” Just pain. Brenda moved beside Andy and imitated Josh, putting her arm around Andy’s waist and gripping his pants. Between them, Andy’s feet dragged as they moved him to the chair. Andy had lost a significant amount of weight since he’d been sequestered with Brenda at the gym. The lack of weight wouldn’t help his recovery.

Dilbeck stepped out of the way as Brenda and Josh worked Andy into the chair. Jerk couldn’t even lend a hand as a pregnant woman moved a full-sized man. Not that he knew she was pregnant, but so what? Jerk. 

Brenda moved to the side as Josh jiggled and shifted Andy’s hips in the wheelchair. On his back, previously hidden, was the backpack she’d brought from Rachel’s house. Tom’s. No way. She glanced under the chair where she’d stashed it. The spot was empty. Damn. He’d taken it. He hadn’t had time... he’d been with a dying Tom and she’d been there the whole time – except for when Daniel was there... no wait, she’d slipped to the supply closet and he’d been there, checking to see what had caused the gunshot. Multiple moments where he could’ve been anywhere – especially in a room where the patient had been incoherent for a good amount of time.

Damn it.

How did she get it back? Or did she worry about it? Hell. She should. He’d stolen from her and Rachel. He’d taken it without guilt and stood in front of her like he didn’t hold something on his back that was hers. Or rather Tom’s. Whatever.

Andy settled, Josh stood and met her gaze. Hooded eyes hid his emotions, but somehow she got the sense he knew she’d seen the backpack. One more person she had to watch. Double damn.

She crossed to Rachel’s side. “I’ll be right back. Drink some juice. I’ll search for soft food.” A quick study of her sister’s face didn’t reveal much. She was a study of cemented control. Brenda patted her hand. Pros and cons of having an injured tongue – no talking and no talking.

“Okay, let’s go.” Brenda wiggled her right leg enough to feel the gun move at her back. Good, still there, minus a bullet. Damn door.

She followed Josh out the door as he pushed Andy to the left. Dilbeck waited until they had vacated the room and then he joined them in the hall. Finger pointed toward the corner leading the way from the emergency room doors, he said, “Down that way. I’ll watch out for Dr. Parker.”

Shit. If she could’ve, she would’ve slapped her forehead. Brenda had to figure out Josh’s intentions and rush back to Rachel with Dilbeck making promises, or threats. She’d give anything to pull out her gun and shoot everyone she didn’t completely trust in that moment. The action would clear her plate and calm her anxiety a touch. The only problem with that plan was Daniel. Where was he?

A step behind Josh, Brenda watched the sway of the pack at his side. She could tackle him, but she wouldn’t get far. He was vastly larger than her. Oh, how she hated that Rachel had gotten the height of their dad and Brenda had inherited her mother’s breasts... damn!? 

Andy moaned. Josh stopped and checked on him. But Andy had slipped on his seat. Josh reached to lift him and the pack fell down his arm. He sighed. “I know what you want, Brenda, but I can’t give it back.”

Brenda crossed her arms and stuck her tongue in her cheek. She arched an eyebrow while she waited for him to look at her. He did. Irritation colored her voice and she covered her desire to scream at him with squinted eyes. “Why?”

He tossed it to her. She caught the bag and debated running, but his words stopped her. “Because I was there when Tom radioed Dilbeck. There’s something in those books they want to use against Rachel. Keeping it away from Dilbeck and Tom’s dad is very important. I’m just not sure why.” He effortlessly lifted Andy further into the seat. “You can run with it, but if Dilbeck gets it, Rachel’s worth will diminish after they’re done getting what they want from her.” He stabbed her with his gaze. “And so will yours.”

Touché. She held out the bag. He’d have to get it out of there. Nowhere in the hospital was safe from Dilbeck’s reign. It was one of the reasons she was so nervous staying behind with Rachel.

In the cafeteria, they created a path through overturned tables and reshaped chairs. A stainless steel counter, half-crushed, guarded the remarkably still-intact glass cases of food. The food inside would be refrigerated but juices and pops on one end called out to them. Brenda grabbed a bottle of water and downed the entire sixteen ounces, her head thrown back and the gulping noises only mildly embarrassing – until she heard the same from Josh. They tossed their empty bottles to the floor and chuckled.

“That feels better. I didn’t realize how thirsty I was.” Brenda wiped her mouth. Hydration, holy cow.

“Me, too. Let’s look for some food. Andy’s going to need as much as I can get in him over the next few hours.” Josh’s smile softened, lingering around the edges and in the lilt of his words. 

Rummaging through the drawers and pantries with Josh at her side, Brenda ignored the context of the moment and enjoyed being with someone who didn’t have all of her past or even some of her present. He might have some of her future, but the chances of that happening had hooked themselves to Rachel and Brenda’s actions – successes and failures.

Josh stuffed his finds around Andy, piled high on his lap and under his arms. Rolls, chips, crackers, jerky, granola bars, everything dry. He tucked bottles of water on top of that and added vegetable juices to the load. When he’d shoved and stacked as many as Andy could hold unconscious, Josh unlocked the chair, but turned to her.

He raised his hand and traced the edge of her jaw with his finger. “If I don’t see you again, it’s been nice.” He flashed a crooked smile. “Don’t come any further. Go back to Rachel. I don’t trust Dilbeck and I have no idea where Bastian is. Stick together.”

“What if you need me to get past the people by the four-wheelers? I brought them with me, they might do what I say.” Brenda attributed her breathlessness to the excitement of the finds in her hands – not the faint touch of his skin on hers.

“It’s okay. I’m counting on trading some food for our release. We’ll get out. If you hear gunshots, get down.” He squeezed her shoulder, then pulled her into a hug. The suddenness startling but sweet. “Get this done. Do whatever you need to. I’ll try to get a radio and see if I can contact you guys. I left Tom’s radio in the supply closet behind the diapers. Channel 3.”

She pulled from his embrace. “Got it. Be careful. Tell the kids, I’m sorry I left them. And their mom will be home soon.”

They parted. Josh headed around to the front exit which would take him through the visitor’s entrance where he’d have to walk around the parking lot to get to the vehicles, out of sight of the emergency department windows. Brenda returned the way she’d come, cutting to the right to retrieve the radio in the closet.

Inside the supply room, she easily found the diapers and pulled the black box from its resting spot. Murmured words from the back corner sped up her retrieval. She hooked it to the front of her jeans and pulled her shirt down, trying to focus on eavesdropping without giving away her presence.

“I guarantee the blueprints for the tests soon.” The shiver at hearing Daniel’s voice was unmistakable. “When will you come for us? ...Eight days should be long enough. I’ll call if sooner... Yes, stop bombing, at least this area. If you drop the bios in the mid-west, they will only get scattered by the tornadoes, not worth it, if you ask me... Well, you did ask me... Right... No, leave them alone. I’m doing what I said I would...” Brenda moved around the aisles, her back pressed as close to the shelving as she could get without toppling them over. She moved when Daniel spoke. “I have both Dr. Parker and her sister... No, Gustavson is dead... Parker did it before I’d established contact... He’s out of the game. Dilbeck is still in... Can I talk to them? ...Because it’s been three days and I want to make sure they’re okay... Hello?” He slammed his fist on the wall and cursed.

Brenda reached into her waistband and pulled out the gun, gripping it in both hands. She rounded the last end-cap and lifted the barrel, pointing it straight at the curve at the base of his neck – the same spot she’d been branded. 

He turned to face her, clicking a small phone shut in his palm. His eyes widened. “Brenda. You —”

The gun shook in her hands. “I wouldn’t say anything else, Bastian, if I were you. Things are about to change and the control that you like so much is mine now.” He opened his mouth. Brenda straightened her arms and lifted her chin. “One more word. I swear. That’s all I need.” She stepped back to give him room to pass her. “You’re lucky Rachel needs you for these damn tests, or I’d pull this trigger and let you bleed right there in that corner.” 

Maybe Rachel would let Brenda do the tests on Daniel instead. After what she’d just heard, the next week was going to be harder than they’d planned. Deadlines sucked. And Brenda hated pressure.

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STAY TUNED FOR BOOK #3 of the Into the End series – Out of the Ashes – and learn the true meaning of fear. Keep reading for an excerpt!

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Author’s Note:

Through the Flames was hard for me to write. I’ve discovered things about my characters that hurt me to learn – like a piece of myself betrayed me. Ever feel like that? I’m sorry Tom and Jenny died. I cried when I wrote those scenes. The important thing to remember is that we take a lot for granted in our world and while Tom and Jenny could have made it with our society intact – medical access, etc. – not so when the end comes.

I don’t know about any realistic plans for NATO to come into our country. I’m the last person anyone would tell. But I do know that power is more intoxicating than alliances and sometimes people need to watch who’s holding their hand versus who they have across the table from them.

I’d love to hear what you have to say about Through the Flames or the series as a whole. I can’t wait for you to read what happens next. Heck, I can’t wait to write it!

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About the Author

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Copyright © 2012 Bonnie R. Paulson

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. 

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the purchase-point and purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Acknowledgments

To My Husband – I’m only prepared for the end because I have you with me.

To my critique partners:  Brooklyn Ann and Shelley Martin. If you only knew how valuable your input was/is, you’d feel like gold.  

To my beta readers: Connie (mom), Chelsea Paulson, Kammie and Gary Roylance. I’m excited when you read for me. Thank you so much!