Reckoning ~ Indian Hill 2 ~ A Michael Talbot Adventure (36 page)

Chapter 38 - Mike Journal Entry Eight

“Is the hood necessary?” I managed to garble out.

“I’m sorry, Captain, but if you are captured, we do not want the whereabouts of our unit discovered.”

“You might be sorry, but I think that your friend over there doesn’t mind at all.” I said.

Michaud merely snorted, most likely in agreement. “How much further then? This thing smells like Frenchy’s feet over there and it’s itchy.” Michaud got up and made a move to cuff my head but he was diplomatically stopped by Roy.

“About ten more minutes, Captain. And just for your safety, some of the time we have been driving has not been necessary.”

“You’ve driven a more circuitous route so that I won’t be able to timeline my way back. I get it, I get it. You don’t trust me. Fine, but if we don’t get there soon, I’m taking this thing off.”

“I would advise against that, Captain.” I heard the ominous sound of Michaud’s pistol being cocked. I prudently decided to remain quiet and still for the remainder of the journey, much to the chagrin of Michaud. From the way the van lurched back and forth, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have been able to tell where we were going without the hood. But if they wanted to play this game, I guess I was all right with it. Not like there was much choice in the matter anyway.

My internal clock timed the remainder of the ride at about twenty more minutes. And you know how they say when one of your senses is handicapped, the other ones perk up and try to compensate for the discrepancy? Well, even with my super sensitive hearing, I never heard Michaud put the hammer on his pistol back down. That gave me goose bumps, thinking that he had that thing pointed at my head, while the van screeched left and right over the pockmarked roads that dotted the landscape! And my brief knowledge of him, he was most likely smiling the whole time. He might have had seventy-five pounds on me, or thirty friggin’ stone, like they said out here, but when I got my chance, I’d get even.

The thought helped ameliorate the smell of feet over my head, if only for a minute. The van stopped and I hoped that would bring the salvation of fresh air, but no such luck. I was unceremoniously pushed out of the back of the van. I stood up, wiping the small stones that had embedded themselves in my kneecaps and tried to orient myself. I wasn’t even sure now in which direction the van was.

A low vibratory hum seemed to pass over my head. My first impression was that it was the alien ship and the bastards had baited me right into a trap. I was on the verge of ripping my hood off and giving anyone within my striking distance, some good old what for. Then I realized that the hum seemed more all around and not just directly above. More like a power station, I reasoned. I wasn’t sure if it was information I needed, or could eventually use, but I filed it away anyway. Sometimes you just never know.

“Let’s go, Captain,” Roy said as he grabbed me just above the elbow and kind of steered me in the general direction. I heard Michaud walk off in the opposite direction. He was talking to someone else in what sounded like French, saying something about licking a frog’s ass, or maybe it was just that he wanted a beer. Either way made no never mind to me.

The gravel gave way to concrete and for a few more feet, I shuffled on, half expecting to slam my nose into a door. The temperature of the air changed; it was warmer. I was being led inside, to what? I didn’t know. It was just safe to say it was inside. The door behind me slammed shut and I jumped a little.

The hood was pulled off almost immediately, I sucked in the new air as if I had been under water for a week. I squinted out of reflex, thinking that I was about to be light blinded. It was hardly necessary, the room I was in wasn’t much better lit than the hood I had been wearing. Even so, my eyes still needed to adjust to something that wasn’t an inch away.

When my eyes finally did adjust, it didn’t look anything like a power station of any kind. It looked more like a huge warehouse. Crates were piled high. In the distance, I could even see a forklift getting something down.

“Where are we?” I asked as I tried to wipe the smell from my nose.

“Where we are, Captain, is of no importance to you,” Roy answered. “At least not right now,” he added. “Colonel Brintley wishes to see you, and after he is through briefing you, I will show you to your quarters.”

“Any chance I could make a pit stop? The springs in your van aren’t so good, and I just finished a quart of Gatorade when this whole little adventure began.”

“I’d say yes, but Colonel Brintley expected you seven minutes ago and I’m already going to catch hell,” he snorted.

“Seven minutes ago?”

“Let’s go,” he said as he again grabbed me above the elbow, but this had more of a death grip to it. I was going in the same direction he was, no matter what the consequences. Bladder be damned, full speed ahead.

***

“Oh my God!” Beth shrieked. “Is there supposed to be that much blood?”

“Just wipe my damn forehead!” Sergeant O’Bannon said as he tried to blink away the sweat that was accumulating at the top of his brow. Deb had begun to turn ash white as the sergeant dug around in her shoulder, attempting to retrieve the bullet without doing any more damage than was necessary.

He was feeling like a bull in a china shop, routing around in the girl. He tried in vain to not look at her face. He could tell even in this extreme situation that she was a beautiful girl, and so young. He noticed himself speaking in the past tense and did his best to correct it, but the facts were right there in front of him. Blood, which he had no means of replacing, was pouring out of Deb at an alarming rate. He finally found the bullet lodged squarely in Deb’s shoulder blade. If she lived, he figured she had at least six months of painful physical therapy ahead of her before she would be able to move her arm correctly. Her days of beach volleyball were over for sure. Hope sprang forward as he pulled the fragment out of the wound with an audible pop.

“Is that it?” Beth asked incredulously.

“Well, it’s either the bullet or I reached up too far and pulled out a filling.” Beth smiled slightly at that. She figured that Deb was out of the woods now that the bullet was out. Naïve sure, but she still felt better. Deb stirred a little as the sergeant dropped the piece of lead into the top of the tackle box.

“Keep her steady, Beth. I’ve got to sew her up as fast as possible.” Beth laid her head down on Deb’s right shoulder and spoke comforting words into her friend’s ear. She didn’t know if Deb could hear her at all, but it made her feel good anyway. The sergeant worked fast, stitching her wound. This was more his speed anyway.

“I’m done,” he said to no one in particular. He would have high-fived somebody if he hadn’t thought that it was totally uncalled for. Beth’s head sprang up from Deb’s shoulder to congratulate the sergeant on a job well done, but as the sergeant’s eyes turned towards Beth, his face fell.

“What? What’s the matter?” Beth’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. The first thing that came into her mind was that the men in the vans were approaching. But that couldn’t be it, she was looking in the direction of where the vans were and they were gone. They left sometime during the operation; and quietly too, because neither she nor the sergeant heard them go.

Beth felt more than saw something land on her shirt. She tore her eyes off the sergeant momentarily to look down. Her shirt had multiple blood splatters on it. Then her mind began to race. Had she been hit in all the excitement and hadn’t even realized it? She had heard about things like that, but was it possible? She didn’t have any unexplained pain. She didn’t feel woozy. Where was the blood coming from?

Both she and the sergeant looked down at Deb in the same instance. Crimson red blood was streaming out of the corners of her mouth. She looked the part of some B-movie actress with crappy special effects. But this wasn’t a movie and this was no B-movie actress. This was Beth’s friend. Deb began to cough up what little blood she had left, what did not come out her mouth began to fill her lungs. The coughs became more violent as the sergeant tried to prop her up. The wound on Deb’s shoulder began to pucker and then blistered open, fresh blood spilling from the sewn up gunshot caused by Deb’s violent hacking.

“Put pressure on her wound!” the sergeant said in a near panic.

“Oh God!” Beth wailed.

Chapter 39 - Mike Journal Entry Nine

“Deb? Is that you?” I couldn’t tell if I was hallucinating or not. Deb was standing before me, she was shimmering in an almost soft golden light. I thought for sure I had finally been driven over the edge, if that were the case, I was bringing Roy with me.

His first reaction was to ready his weapon. It was dawning on him that weapons would be ineffectual. I think he had begun to mutter prayers. Swears or prayers, I couldn’t truly be sure, a lot of the time they are one in the same. He kept muttering something about spirits or ghosts. It couldn’t be a ghost though; it was Debbie, my companion for so many nights. My heart panged for her at the sight. Her arms were outstretched and she was walking in my direction; although walking might not be quite accurate, she seemed to be hovering two or so inches above the ground.

Roy grabbed me by the shoulder. “Come on, Captain let’s go! No good can come from this,” he said as he uttered another prayer and crossed the trinity on each shoulder and then his forehead.

“I know her!” I said as I shrugged my shoulder away from his grip.

“You KNOW this spirit!?” he asked, backing away.

“She was on the ship with me she..she …” Was what? Not my girlfriend, not just a companion… What was she? I felt pathetic. I loved this girl and I didn’t even know what she was to me.

“Deb, how did you get here?” I was still blinded by the sight of her. “Are you crying?” And still she advanced. A slow dawning began in the depths of my brain. Tiny dots of fear began to shimmer and then shine. At this rate, they would be ablaze soon. But reason began to take over, why would I be afraid of Deb? “I love you,” I said weakly.

It looked to me like she was mouthing she loved me back, but no sound emanated from her mouth. Still, I heard it ring out, loud and clear. She finally reached me and the touch of her hand was oh, so warm (freezing); her embrace was so inviting (disenchanting); and her kiss was sweet (bittersweet). And then she was gone.

***

New York – Massachusetts State Line

“She’s gone,” Sergeant O’Bannon said sadly as he stood up and walked away from the truck.

“She’s not gone! She can’t be gone!” Beth protested as she began to pound on Deb’s chest, hoping that somehow, some way she would be able to beat the life back into her. After a minute or so of trying the unorthodox method, she gave up and laid her head on Deb’s chest. Then she just sobbed and sobbed, and then sobbed some more until there was nothing left. When she thought she was all wrung out, she would begin anew. Finally, the sergeant came back and wrapped his arms around Beth’s shoulders.

“I’m so sorry, I did everything I could.” Beth turned and buried her head in the sergeant’s shoulder. “We can’t stay here, Beth. Those vans might come back, or worse, my unit might send out scouts. We’ve got to go before it gets dark.”

“We… We can’t just leave Deb here.” Beth started crying again.

“Beth we’re alive, and we’ve got to keep it that way. I know a back way to get you into Massachusetts, if that’s what you want to do. But if we stay here, there’s no telling what might happen to us. My unit would be more than happy to finish off what they started here today.”

“I will not leave Deb at a rest stop, for hungry pigeons to feast on.”

“Beth, you’re not being reasonable. We’ve got to get going while we still can.”

“Go! I’m not stopping you.”

“Listen! You and your friend are the reason I’m here! If I leave without you, what was the point of it all?” the sergeant asked as he threw his hands up in the air.

“Well, then we have a dilemma because I’m not leaving her like this.”

“Start getting some wood.”

Beth didn’t understand at first, but she followed the sergeant’s gaze towards the picnic tables. Picnic tables that were slated for removal next year to be replaced with the new and improved Lucite models. That would never happen now, the tables and benches were still the good, old, garden variety wooden ones.

The sergeant picked up Deb’s limp, lifeless body and gently placed her on the nearest table. Beth tried not to focus on the reason why as she continued picking up the wood dutifully. The sergeant gathered some brush and wood also. When he felt they had accumulated enough combustibles, he headed back to the truck and grabbed one of the spare gas cans.