Apocalypse Dawn (27 page)

Goose took some of the gauze Bill handed him. He took a deep breath and tried to steady his hands as he worked to staunch the bleeding. The shadows of the descending helicopters filtered through the swirling smoke and dust haze to cover them.

“The shrapnel missed his heart and both lungs,” Bill said. “At least, I think it missed both-“

When his friend’s words cut off abruptly, Goose looked up from Dockery’s back. Bill wasn’t on the other side of the wounded man. All that remained was a set of crumpled of BDUs, the LCE, the assault rifle, and gear.

Alarm jarred through Goose. He’d only taken his eyes off Bill for an instant. There was no way Bill had time to get out of his clothes and then-then-then what? Take off across Turkey?

The superstitious paranoia that Goose had grown up with as a child, part of that feeling stemming from stories of the Old Testament and part of it from all the tall tales of ghosts and monsters that lived in the Okefenokee Swamp around Waycross, Georgia, raised goose bumps across the back of his neck. He fisted the pistol grip of the M4A1 and glanced around.

“Bill?”

“He … vanished,” Dockery croaked.

Goose glanced at the wounded man, noting the pinprick-sized pupils, symptoms of the drugs in his system.

“S’truth, Sargh. Saw’im … disappear.”

A dozen questions filled Goose’s mind. Before he had a chance to ask any of them, metal screamed overhead. He glanced up, spotting the black silhouettes of the helicopters through the dusk and smoke haze framed against the sun and the blue sky. Tears ran down his cheeks, brought on by the stabbing brightness of the sun.

But then he saw at least half of the CH-46Es slide out of control across the sky. They collided with other helicopters, shredding rotors and sending deadly shrapnel through each other and the vulnerable troops inside.

Then the troop transport ships rained from the sky like dying flies, breaking open and scattering troops and gear across the hardpan. In a handful of seconds, the relief effort sent by USS Wasp had become a broken necklace of casualties spread across the battlefield.

United States of America

Fort Benning, Georgia

Local Time 1:20 A.M.

Megan threw her upper body out across the roofs edge. She’d moved before she’d thought about the action, and she knew that was the only thing that had saved Gerry Fletcher. She had never moved so quickly in her life. By some miracle, she managed to grab the boy’s left wrist and stop his plummet down the side of the building to the hard ground four stories below.

Men cursed in the parking lot below, in stunned amazement as well as fear. Megan recognized those emotions because she felt them within herself as well. She couldn’t believe she’d caught the falling boy.

At the same time, she knew she wasn’t going to be able to keep Gerry from falling. She didn’t have the mass or the strength. Her arm felt torn from the socket.

The spotlights from the vehicles trained on her and Gerry, pinning her shadow and the boy’s against the side of the building in hard-edged relief. The MPs broke loose first, sprinting for the fire escape.

Somebody get up there!” Boyd Fletcher squalled. “She’s going to get that boy killed!”

Megan tried to pull Gerry up but couldn’t. She lacked the upperbody muscle it would take to pull the boy up. At the same time she wondered who had brought Boyd Fletcher out into the parking lot. If the man hadn’t startled Gerry—

But he did, she told herself. You’re dealing with that now. No! God, we’re dealing with this! You and me! You helped put Gerry out here on this roof tonight, and You’re going to help me get him back down!

Metal rang as the MPs pounded up the stairs. “Hold on, ma’am!” one of them called. “Just hold on!”

I am! Megan thought. God help me, I am! God, please help me!

Megan could see an explosion of fear go off inside Gerry as he dangled above the waiting ground. Whatever he’d thought when he stepped off the roof, he’d clearly changed his mind now. He kicked and whipped his other arm up to grab hold of her forearm.

‘Pull me up, Mrs. Gander!” the boy pleaded. “Pull me up! I don’t want to fall! Please don’t let me fall!”

At least we’re on the same page now, Megan thought. She pulled at her arm. Abruptly, she slid across the roofs edge. Her shirt buttons rasped against the rough surface. No! God, no!

She kicked her legs back and barely managed to stop herself from continuing to skid over the edge. From the sound of their steps on the metal treads, the MPs had reached the second landing now. She breathed as deeply as she could, forcing herself to be calm.

“Somebody stop her!” Boyd Fletcher yelled. “She’s going to get my son killed!”

My son. Megan heard the words, but she didn’t believe it. Boyd Fletcher hadn’t ever called Gerry by his name in her hearing before. He’d referred to the boy as a possession; the same as saying “my car.”

Pain burned through her arm. She focused on Gerry. His eyes were wide with panic. His fingernails clawed into her arm, leaving bloody furrows. Her own fear allowed her to ignore the burning pain of the deep scratches, as if it were someone else’s flesh that was getting tom.

“Mrs. Gander! Mrs. Gander! Please help me!”

“I am, Gerry. I am.” Megan tried to keep the tears from her eyes but she couldn’t. She was going to drop him. She’d never be able to hold him till help arrived. He seemed to get heavier with each passing second, a weight like a blacksmith’s anvil kicking and yelling at the end of her arm.

“Stop her!” Boyd Fletcher yelled. “She’s going to kill him! She’s crazy!” He struggled, trying to break away from the two MPs who had stayed with him, even though his hands were cuffed behind his back. One of the MPs slapped his stick at the backs of Fletcher’s legs, knocking the man into a crumpled kneeling position. He leaned down, pinning Fletcher with one hand against the small of his back.

Fletcher screamed curses.

“Calm down, Private,” one of the MPs ordered.

To Megan the voices, even Fletcher’s yells, seemed like they came from a million miles away.

“Mrs. Gander!” Gerry hung on to her desperately.

Megan slid another couple inches, getting dangerously close to losing her scant purchase at the roofs edge. “God,” she shouted, “please help me! Please help me with this!”

But there was no answer.

There had never been an answer when she had asked for help. Sometimes, most of the time, she had to admit, the situations she prayed over had gotten better. Bill told her that God acted in the world, gave signs that built faith if people trusted enough to look for them. Even in the Old Testament, when God had spoken to His prophets on a regular basis, those ancient men had struggled more to disbelieve and discount than to accept. Bill had suggested that was why idolatry had sprung up, that man had a self-defeating need to reach out to things that didn’t exist rather than admit God’s love was there for them.

Idols couldn’t hold a person accountable for his or her actions. A person couldn’t break faith with an idol. An idol was a fabrication, a thing a person chose to believe in because she could exercise some control over the idol by choosing to worship it or not worship it. Blame could be placed on an idol, payoffs withheld from that idol, a new idol found.

But what about God’s love? Megan asked herself frantically as she slid another inch. Where is His hand in this? I’m going to lose this boy, God! I’m not strong enough to hold him! Please! You can see this! You have to be able to see this! Help me!

“Mrs. Gander!” Gerry slipped another inch.

Megan’s grip on the boy’s hand loosened. Her hand grew numb and ached miserably from her sustained effort. Goose could have pulled the boy back up. She felt certain of that. Goose was strong, stable. He could handle anything the world threw at him and keep going. She had seen that.

Gerry slipped again, and Megan slid forward across the roofs edge. She knew that if she didn’t release him his weight was going to drag her into a free fall with him. Part of her-the animal part that lived in the lowest recesses of her brain, still afraid of fire and storms and any kind of change-screamed at her to let go. No one could blame her for saving herself. She had already risked her life. Saving Gerry Fletcher was impossible-Nothing is impossible with God’s help-it would have been better if she had missed him-Why didn’t I miss him?

Gerry’s hand slipped from her forearm, no longer able to hang on, his clasp sliding from her arm to her hand.

“Mrs. Gander!”

“I’ve got you, Gerry. I’ve got you. Just hang on. Just hang on a moment longer.”

The MPs were on the final landing, headed for the rooftop. They were big and strong. They could hold Gerry and make him safe. All they had to do was-

.We just have to hang on a few more seconds.” Megan’s arm felt like fire had invaded the joint. “Just a little longer.” Tears blurred her vision and she knew she was crying. God! Why? Why have You abandoned us?

The blood from the scratches along her forearm threaded down her hand and onto Gerry’s. The grip they shared became slick and uncertain.

“I’m falling!” Gerry screamed. “I’m falling!”

“No,” Megan said, stifling the urge she had to scream as well. “I’ve got you, Gerry. I’ve got you.” She felt the rooftop shake under her as the MPs raced toward them. “Just don’t let go. Don’t let go, Gerry.”

Thin as a whisper, silent as snow, gone in the blink of an eye, Gerry’s hand slipped through hers.

“No!” Megan screamed as she felt his fingers glide through the blood that coated her hand.

Gerry wailed in terror. And he fell, plummeting toward the unyielding concrete in front of the apartment building.

United States of America

Fort Benning, Georgia

Local Time 1:21 A.M.

Time slowed as Megan watched Gerry Fletcher fall. Time slowed but never stopped, moving inexorably on in horrifying tiny ticks rather than in a brain-numbing rush.

Gerry dropped like a rock, tumbling over backward, his arms stretched out and reaching helplessly for a handhold, his legs bicycling. A scream stretched the boy’s mouth wide, but Megan couldn’t hear it over her own yell of anguish. She’d had him … and she’d lost him.

Why, God? Why did You let both of us come up on this roof tonight? If everything happens for a reason, if I’m supposed to believe that, what good was it for Gerry to be up here? Why did I have to be up here? The last bit was selfish. She knew that and regretted the thought in the same moment she had it.

Gerry tumbled, turning to face away from her.

Tears blurred Megan’s vision. She blinked them away unconsciously, and when she opened her eyes again, she saw Gerry hit the ground. At least, she thought the boy had hit the ground. But looking down now, she knew that something was wrong.

The pile of clothes at the bottom of the building didn’t look big enough to be a boy. They only looked big enough to be-to be a pile of clothes.

That’s denial, Megan told herself, knowing that had to be true because nothing else made sense. My mind is shutting out the real sight of Gerry down there, shutting out the true image of blood and broken pavement. He fell. He hit. 0 God, what have I done? Why did You forsake us? He was just a baby.

The two MPs on the rooftop grabbed Megan’s legs. She hadn’t even noticed she’d still been falling, skidding slowly but surely over the side of the roof. Gerry’s certain death had paralyzed even the lizard’s instinct for survival in the back of her brain.

“Mrs. Gander,” one of the MPs said. “Mrs. Gander, relax. We’ve got you. It’s over.”

Stubbornly, Megan clung to the roofs edge. One of the MPs guarding Boyd Fletcher ran toward the impact area. Impact area? Is that what you call it? She didn’t know how she could be so callous. The MP reached the pile of clothes and stared down. His head swiveled around, looking for something.

“Where is he?” Boyd Fletcher yelled. “Where is Gerry? I saw him up there. She hid him. Check the rooftop. He can’t have gone far.” He struggled to get to his feet, but the MP holding him down never moved, grinding him down on his face.

In the end, Megan couldn’t hold on to the roofs edge. The MPs proved too strong. They talked softly to her, like she was a child or a trauma victim. Shaking and shivering, not certain that she was strong enough to walk on her own two feet, Megan allowed the men to hold her from either side.