Graham's Resolution Trilogy Bundle: Books 1-3 (51 page)

“Crap, where’s that kid?” McCann said to himself as he led the horse gently up the incline to where Macy waited for him. He didn’t think she’d be too happy with him once she found out he had lost Bang and Sheriff after finding them once.

Sure enough, the first thing she said as he came to the rise was, “Where’s Bang?”

“Uh, we had a little trouble with your neighbors. I told him to run for the other side of the river, and I thought he’d come back here, but maybe he went back to your camp?”

She didn’t have time to question him further after she detected Sam lying unconscious over the mare. “Oh my God! Is he okay?” she asked.

“The only thing I can tell you is he’s breathing. Here, help me get him down and into the truck,” he said as he grabbed Sam by the back of his waistband. Macy helped to steady him as McCann hefted Sam’s weight over his shoulder just briefly enough to walk the four steps to the open back door of the Scout and arranged him on the backseat. Macy tucked a blanket around Sam’s stone-cold body.

“Jesus, Sam,” she said, seeing his condition.

Once he was settled, Macy grabbed the radio from McCann and called into Bang. “Where are you?” she demanded. McCann listened to her conversation as he readied Mae for their trip to Graham’s camp.

“I’m walking back to camp through the forest. I’m halfway home anyway. I thought it would be faster this way. Did that guy get Sam back?”

“Yeah, he did. Are you okay?” she asked more quietly.

“Yes, I’m fine. I just don’t want to turn around now, I’m halfway there. I’ll see you back at camp. Bang out.”

Christ
, McCann thought. For a kid of only five, that little guy sounds pretty mature. What a shitty world, where a kindergartener has to grow up so fast.

“He sounded a little irritated,” Macy said, but the statement was more of a question to McCann asking what actually went on in the business of retrieving Sam.

“Like I said, we had some trouble with your neighbors.” He removed the saddle from the horse and put it in the back of the pickup truck.

“You didn’t shoot anyone, did you?”

McCann looked sidelong at her, the toothpick between his teeth moving as he talked. “No, Macy, I didn’t, but I should have. I don’t know what kind of arrangement you guys have with them, but it’s not okay to point rifles and make threats for nothing more than crossing the river to help one of your own. I don’t care who you are or what you’re carrying. Luckily for him, another Teletubby showed up and talked some sense into him.”

She stifled a snicker at the Teletubby comment. With Sam injured in the backseat, they didn’t have time to laugh.

“I wish you’d spit out that toothpick,” Macy said, sounding crabby. “My dad used to do that. Seeing you do it bothers me.” She sniffed and hauled herself up behind the wheel. “Okay, follow me into camp. Let’s get Sam home.”

By the time Clarisse and Dalton returned to the quarantine building, Reuben had formed a team to retrieve the section 4 supply truck. The stash, hidden in a secure location for contingencies like this, was an ace in the hole. Dalton nodded to Reuben as he passed by, knowing the man had things under control.

When they entered the building, several people still milled around, dazed, while others rested in the cot room, previously the conference room. The lights were off, and the darkness encouraged whispering. Outside, military surplus trucks started up and idled while an occasional yelled direction disturbed the quiet; inside, grieving still reigned for the ones lost in the tragedy. They had come to feel secure in their situation, only to have that precious gift stolen overnight.

“Hey, buddy.” Dalton knelt down, level with his youngest son Kade, who walked hand in hand with Bethany as she led him down the hall to the bathroom. The boy’s bewilderment, his look of uncertainty, was heartbreaking.

Not fully understanding his loss, but knowing life was now drastically different, the boy looked up at his father. “Mommy’s dead,” Kade said. His words came as a statement of fact, as if maybe Dalton hadn’t been informed.

The raw simplicity of his son’s declaration shocked him. Dalton held Kade’s hands and brushed his thumbs over the soft skin of his son’s grip while trying to find the right words to express what would become a lasting memory for his son. “Yes. Mommy died last night. We will miss her very much.” The tears came forth for both of them as Dalton quietly uttered the words. He drew the child into his arms, only dimly aware that Clarisse was ushering Bethany away to give them privacy. He held Kade tightly, and the boy allowed himself to be hugged as, with ragged sorrow, his father wept into his small neck.

Clarisse wanted to help, but she was powerless against Dalton’s immense loss. She wished, somehow, she could bring back Kim to ease the broken hearts of this devastated family. Though she had disliked Kim, had found her cold and been angered by her treatment of Addy, she’d never have wished for something like this. Even as, last night, she’d thought to spread a sheet over the dead woman’s body, she’d felt she did it out of some kind of guilt.

It’s ironic
, Clarisse thought.
You never really know, in life, who will be the one to do this kindness for you when you die.
She never would have guessed she’d be the one to do this for Kim. It was a morbid honor, being the last one to see Kim, with all her flaws and all her beauty, and then to view her with compassion, to shield her deadness with a cloak from the eyes of the living before decay set in. Even though she’d felt Kim was as selfish as might be socially acceptable, and she’d resented her for imposing that selfishness on a child, she still wished there was a way to bring her back—for Dalton, for his boys, for the camp itself.

Kim’s enthusiasm for life would be missed by many. And for those reasons, Clarisse regretted losing her to death.

As soon as Steven saw that Clarisse had arrived, he bombarded her with details of injuries that needed her expertise, then stopped for a moment to ask about Addy’s whereabouts. When she told him she hadn’t found her yet, he said, “I’m really sorry she hasn’t turned up. Thank you for coming back. While you’re working, I’ll let you know if any news comes in.”

“Thanks,” Clarisse said. Reuben’s youngest daughter’s foot injuries were the worst, so she started with her. The nine-year-old girl, Lawoaka, held herself stoically as Clarisse numbed several points around her injury and began the process of removing first a bit of tissue that would never heal properly because there was no circulation to it. She avoided the large blister rising in the center of Lawoaka’s arch and applied silver sulfadiazine to the affected area. After loosely bandaging the wound, she spoke to the girl’s mother. “I know the burn looks bad right now, but it should heal up well. Other than the one spot, the remaining area is just a second-degree burn. We need to watch the area for infection, and she needs to keep her foot elevated. Absolutely no walking on it.” Steven had already fitted Lawoaka with a pair of crutches, and the girl was in good spirits despite her injury.

“It could have been so much worse,” Lavinda, Reuben’s wife, said. “We were so lucky.”

Lucky? Clarisse wondered how much luck they still harbored. Apparently luck had a shelf life, and to her mind it had expired.

Clarisse heard Rick’s voice coming from down the hall. He relayed the information to Dalton about the carriers, and she wondered what he had learned about Addy. When Rick muttered to Dalton, words not intended for Clarisse to hear, “The girl’s as good as dead,” Clarisse nearly fainted.

Sheriff slowed by Bang’s side, his attention suddenly focused forward, one forepaw lifted midway. The forest darkened up ahead, but this was familiar, even welcome. When the dog went to attention, his rigid pose alerted Bang to pending danger. He wrapped a fist in Sheriff’s thick ruff and stood as still as the dog.

Sheriff’s low, deep-throated growl seemed too immense for his lean body. Scared, Bang began to back away, but a muffled cry brought him back to a standstill. That didn’t sound like an animal; it sounded like a person. The small, frightened whimper came again, and Bang realized there was no beast in the trees, but maybe the little girl Sam had gone looking for on the other side. Nothing else made sense. Girls didn’t just turn up in a winter forest. “Hey, girl!” Bang yelled. Sheriff sank back on his haunches.

For the life of him Bang couldn’t remember her name. “Hey,
girl!
” he called more loudly, since no one had responded. Sheriff sat panting next to him, with an occasional glance at Bang as if questioning the reason for the delay.

Addy’s head appeared, peeking around a large cypress trunk farther up the deer path, but she ducked back out of sight just as quickly, and Bang began to wonder if he had seen her at all. “Hey, are you Sam’s daughter?” he yelled.

She peeked out again. “Where is he? Where is my dad?” Her voice wasn’t very loud, and Bang could tell she was crying. “Do you know Sam?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Bang said cautiously, because he remembered something important. Sam had come to stay with them because he was a carrier now. The rest of the details didn’t interest a five-year-old. He didn’t keep track of adult conversations very much, but he heeded what Graham had taught him. One of the biggest rules said to stay away from the preppers because they were still susceptible to the virus. “Are you a carrier?” he asked the girl.

It seemed to him she took too long to answer, as if she was trying to decide to tell the truth or not. Finally, she said, “I don’t know. Do you know where my dad is?”

Bang was suspicious; she had taken too long to answer the question. Graham had taught him better. “Yeah,” he said again. “He got hurt. A man on a horse came and took him to our camp.”

“A horse? My daddy’s hurt? How? I want to see him.”

“Well, I’ll show you where he is, but you have to stay far away from me. I don’t want to give you the virus if you don’t have it already. So come on. Walk that way,” he told her and pointed the way for her to go well ahead of him through the trees.

Sheriff stayed right at Bang’s side as they kept their distance from the girl, who continued to look back every few minutes to make sure she was going in the right direction. Bang wasn’t used to talking to young girls, so he shyly pointed or nodded his head when she looked at him.

Bang watched her stagger a bit as she walked, and she shivered whenever the wind snaked its way through the trees, lifting her long, matted hair. He was sure she would fall over soon. “Hey, girl. Maybe you should stay here, and I’ll go get someone,” he cautioned her. “You don’t walk very well.”

“No, I’m going where he is. And my name is
Addy
,” she yelled back at him.

She appeared to be upset, and pouting. Bang just shook his head; he would never understand girls. Mark had told him they were often unreasonable, and so far he had found that statement to be true. Marcy, in particular, drove Bang crazy, and he didn’t understand why Mark “
like
- liked” her.

Finally they came to the area where their trail would skirt the edge of the frozen lake and then lead right, and up to the path to camp. She looked back at him, and Bang yelled, “Go right!” He pointed, but as she began to traverse the ice-covered boulders leading up around the lake edge, she stumbled and fell over the side, completely out of Bang’s sight.

He and Sheriff ran over to her, and, as they climbed up a small cliff, Sheriff began to bark, looking downward. She had fallen through the ice and in the lake and was sinking into the shallow, freezing waters.

Bang peered over the edge, trying to be careful to keep his distance, and she only lay there in the water. She wasn’t even trying to get out. This made no sense to him, and he briefly contemplated the importance of keeping his distance, balanced with her drowning, until Sheriff scrambled down the rock face. Bang teetered at the top.

He gazed toward camp, uncertain of what to do. If he got nearer to her, she might catch the virus, but if he did not take action, she would drown or freeze right there before him.

Sheriff looked up at him, prancing on his paws. He barked at Bang for his inaction, as if to say, “Do something, man!”

Bang waded out into the frigid waters, through the broken ice, and pulled Addy’s face up out of the shallow water. He gripped her pink jacket and dragged her over to the shore. She was freezing cold and turning blue. Panicked, he pulled her up over to the forest edge, where she would be safe from the now open water where her fall had broken the ice. Sheriff licked at her face and jumped around in a panic. Bang stared down at her. There was no way he could carry her the rest of the way to camp. She was taller than him by at least three inches. He listened for her breathing like he had listened to Sam’s chest earlier that morning, but instead of the heartbeat he expected, only a void remained where her jacket soaked his ear.

The only thing he could do was run the short distance to the camp and get help. The girl might die one way or the other, but there was a chance she would live if he could get help fast. Sheriff seemed to have the same idea as he ran ahead, barking madly.

Macy pulled the truck to a halt and watched as McCann came in behind her, with the horses ambling at the back of the pickup. Mark, on his feet but pretty unsteady, came out onto the porch. Macy greeted him and opened the back door of the Scout as McCann stepped out and waved a greeting at him.

Sam had regained consciousness, complaining of a pounding headache on the bumpy drive home; Macy had kept reassuring him they would be there soon. He shook heavily with the cold, and she suspected hypothermia, though she was no expert in these matters. He had kept asking about Addy’s whereabouts, and she didn’t have an answer for him. She warred with herself. Should she confess they hadn’t found her yet or pretend everything was okay so he would calm down?

Once Macy opened the back door, he tried to sit up, and she had to press him down. “Sam, wait. Let me get some help. You can’t even walk—”

She was interrupted by Sheriff bolting toward her, barking frantically. McCann looked alarmed, ready to leap into the Scout and away from the dog. “He’s not after you!” Macy shouted as McCann pulled his pistol. Macy scanned the horizon; something was obviously wrong if it had set Sheriff off like this.

Bang, panting, emerged from the woods right after the dog. “She fell in!” he shouted. “Help, she fell through! We have to help her.
Hurry!
” he screamed angrily, as Macy only stared at him, trying to figure out what he was yelling about, but Bang’s frantic cries and the dog’s racing first to her, then back toward the trail, got her moving.

“Hurry, she fell through!” Bang kept repeating, his breath rasping out in sobbing coughs. “I know I shouldn’t have gone near, but she fell through the ice. She was gonna drown, Macy!”

As Macy caught up, she yelled to him, “Bang, wait!” But she knew it was already too late. The exposure rule had been thoroughly violated at this point. If the child was Addy—and who else could it be?—and she hadn’t died of hypothermia or from drowning, she might die of the virus. She watched as Bang bent down beside the small body lying on the icy earth. Addy’s face already had a blue cast, and her pink coat was soaked with lake water and draped in lake scum.

“Is that Addy?” Macy gasped. “She can’t be exposed to us.” By the looks of her, the child was dead; she bled from a cut on her forehead, and her lips were deep blue.

“Yes, hurry. She fell through.” Bang gestured with his little hand as he leaned over her body and cried as if he were responsible for her death and admitting a wrongful deed. Macy stood shaking her head in horror for the girl, Sam and, ultimately, Bang.

McCann caught up to Macy, skidded to a halt, and dropped down beside her, Bang, and the too-still child. “Is it always like this here?” he asked incredulously.

Macy stared mutely at the little girl on the ground, then gaped at McCann when he pushed her aside and bent over Addy.

“It’s a little too late to worry about exposure now,” he muttered. He checked Addy’s neck for a pulse, which Macy realized should have been her first move.

Without hesitation McCann began CPR. Macy took off her own coat and draped it around Addy. McCann checked again for a pulse. “Got one,” he said, as if to himself. “Weak, but it’s there.” He pushed on Addy’s thin chest with only the fingers of his hands, and puffed every few moments into her mouth and nose.

When Addy coughed and turned her head away, he said, “That a girl,” then scooped her up, adding his jacket to Macy’s, and rushing up the trail. “Hurry, let’s get her inside. She might have a chance!” he yelled.

Macy ran ahead to let the others know and to clear a space for the girl. They would need to get her warmed up as soon as possible. As she ran, her heart broke for Sam. His daughter had certainly been exposed now, and, if they managed to save her, her life might not be a long one. She could die of the virus in the next few days even if they managed to save her from the drowning. Macy consoled herself in the thought that at least Sam would get to say good-bye to her.

As Macy neared the clearing, Sam was being helped out of the truck by Mark and Marcy, the two men hobbling together. Sam saw Macy’s shocked face as she stopped and stared at him; she didn’t have time to warn him. McCann came into the clearing with Sam’s daughter in his arms, draped in death’s blue cast; he rushed her into the house, disregarding any obstacles. McCann never acknowledged Sam’s alert presence; he focused only on the girl.

“No!” Sam yelled in terrible anguish. “No!” he screamed again, and the sound of it ripped through Macy. Tala held the door open as McCann barreled through with his burden, the expression on her face saying she couldn’t believe that one more tragedy could enter their home today.

“Oh, my God! Addy,” she said, as Macy pushed in beside McCann.

“Shut that door. Lock it. Keep Sam out for now.” He looked at Macy. “Where?”

“Living room. Warmest.” She shoved him in that direction.

“I said lock the door!” McCann yelled as he hurriedly laid Addy down on the couch. “Blankets!” he yelled to Macy, just before he began CPR on the girl once again.

Tala complied and pushed in both latches as Sam stumbled up the front steps. She turned to back to Addy and began removing the girl’s sodden boots and socks and rubbing her blue feet, hoping she was more than the corpse she appeared to be. Addy’s whole frame jerked with the effort of the adults to save her life. While Macy tossed and tucked more blankets around her, McCann gave her CPR, and Tala worked on removing her clothing. The whole time Tala yelled, “Come on, baby!
Breathe!
”

Macy picked up the chant. “
Breathe
, Addy!
Breathe!
”

Sam broke away from Mark and pounded on the cabin door, screaming for his child. Mark himself only stood by pure will, gazing in shock at the scene while, along with Marcy, he recklessly strained to hold Sam back. Marcy wept, “Sam, Sam, please don’t! You’re hurting yourself. They have her. They’ll save her! You can’t help!” But the enraged father continued to battle all restraint.

Bang clung to Mark’s legs, also crying. “I—I had to pull her out. She fell in. I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry, Sam, I’m sorry.”

McCann bent to repeat the breathing in the little girl’s mouth when a watery choking sounded from Addy’s throat. She struggled, and McCann turned her over to her side, where she expelled water. Most glorious of all, her eyes blinked open wide as she looked at McCann almost questioningly.

She coughed out more water and cried, “Dad-dee!”

Outside, Sam heard his daughter’s voice. The door flew open, and he stumbled through, his broken heart swelling, healing, as he dropped to his knees beside Addy. He reached for her, held her, crushed her to him as she coughed and cried. It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, the greatest gift, having her skinny arms wrapping around his neck, however feebly she clung. He knew he shouldn’t give in to the selfish desire to have her back with him, even if only for a little while, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Addy cried again and again between spasmodic coughs. A strange man helped Tala keep blankets around her, and Sam shoved the man’s hands back.

“Get away, from her!” Sam wrapped her tighter in his arms, half turning as he spoke.

McCann stepped back. “If it’s exposure you’re worried about, it’s too late for that, Sam.”

Dimly, Sam wondered who this man was, and how he knew his name, but none of that outweighed the need to simply hold his little girl, feel the icy cold of her skin as he pressed kisses to her face. She was so cold! Why had they taken her clothes off?

The man snapped out orders. “Close that door. Get this room as warm as possible. Heat water and fill containers to put under the covers beside them.”

Sam grew aware of being pulled by the arms to sit on the couch with Addy on his lap. “Take your jacket off,” McCann commanded. He didn’t know why, but the man seemed to be in charge, and Sam complied, though doing so hurt his chest wound. “Now your shirt. Hold your daughter against your skin. Come on, man. We’re fighting hypothermia, here.”

Macy tucked more blankets around them both, and then Tala was there with something that felt hot against his skin as she tucked a towel-wrapped object in beside Addy, then another on the other side. Within the pile of blankets around them, he felt his daughter begin to shiver.

“Ah . . . good,” McCann said. “Now, something warm for her to drink. We’ll heat her from the inside, too.”

~ ~ ~

Graham hung in the doorway, watching the scene unfold in the living room as others saved Addy from the effects of cold and drowning. As Tala ran to the kitchen, she saw him and stopped, staring at him. “What are you doing up?”

“Need to use . . . radio. Call . . . Dalton,” he slurred. It had felt like miles from his bed to the radio desk, but he’d made it. He’d had to.

“You and Sam,” Tala said, with both admiration and admonition in her voice. “You guys, you pull fumes from adrenaline.”

Graham leaned on the side of the desk. “Rick, come in. This is Graham. Do you copy? Over.”

“This is Rick.” The voice cracked out of the receiver. “Did you say
Graham
? Over.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t know how much longer he could stay on his feet. “We found Addy. Alive.”

There was a pause. “Is she hurt?”

“She fell through the lake ice.” Graham tried to keep his voice steady, but the effort of being upright and imparting the bad news made his voice wobble. “She’s alive, but she’s been exposed, Rick. It doesn’t look good. Over.”

“Oh, Jesus!” Rick said. “I’ll tell Clarisse right away. Maybe she can do something to help.”

“We’re really sorry, man. There was no time to wait for one of you to come here, and Bang . . . well, he had to get her out of the water.”

“No, no, I understand. Stay tuned. I’m sure Clarisse will want to talk to you. Rick out.”