Skyfire (15 page)
Authors: Doug Vossen
CALLIE
It was dark now. Callie couldn’t help but wonder how many other non-military people were alive and waiting for evacuation. She began feeling optimistic that maybe there was a large group of people who had gotten the message about Firebase Liberty before the blackouts, and that they were all patiently waiting for an organized, deliberate exit to someplace safe until everything went back to normal.
I never thought I’d want to grind my ass onto some creep’s pants-cock more than something else, but I guess there’s a first for everything. Rich, gross Arab dick ejaculating in track pants for twenties shoved into my undergarments beats gunshots, a sick kid, and dead bodies everywhere. I would do anything to wake up the day before I wound up in that morgue. I would quit my job, stay home and not leave until all this shit was over. Goddamn it! Would have, should have, FUCKING DIDN’T. Get it together, Kennedy. Get this kid to a fucking doctor, roll a fatty, and then get the hell away from this city. You’ll have done your part.
They continued walking. Callie’s anxiety increased. “Hey dude, my daughter’s not great right now. Like REALLY not great. Are we almost there?”
The escort said nothing.
Fucking awesome. What cocks these people are. I fucking hate them. Why do all these people in America suck these asshole’s dicks on a regular basis? ‘Thank you for your service.’ Go fuck yourselves, you pieces of shit. Why do you all think you’re better than everyone else? OK, OK, don’t go down negativity road. You’re better than this.
Callie looked up. For the first time since she’d arrived in the New York metropolitan area, no man-made lights interrupted the night sky. It was eerily beautiful.
Excluding the phenomenon over the financial district, the evening sky was filled only with bright stars,. For the first time in a long while, a stargazer could look up and recall the humbling truth that we are but a speck in the cosmos. Someone looking up at such a display would have to be stubborn to deny that we are all part of something much greater; that we were all formed by exploding stars billions and billions of years ago, just as Carl Sagan taught. For some reason, Callie found this extremely satisfying.
This must be how some people feel about Jesus or Jew God or Allah or whatever.
It was stunningly beautiful, and calmed her significantly. For a brief instant of universal connectedness, focused on the swath of the now-visible Milky Way, Callie knew everything was going to be OK, even if it was a long, diffcult road.
THAT’S fuckin’ God, man. Not any of that other shit that tells you not to eat pork or jerk off. I mean fuck, dude. Bacon’s delicious. And I sure as shit ain’t gonna stop double clicking the mouse.
Callie was still pretty high.
They approached an organized line of eight field ambulances. Some were painted yellowish tan, some green. The brigade had moved all its medical equipment.
They must have known they would need it . . .
Her anxiety returned as Callie looked inside the ambulances while walking down the line toward the main canvas tent of the aid station. The ambulances were all dimly lit with low red light designed to illuminate, but not attract attention.
Wait a second. Why are all these patients being treated INSIDE ambulances? Are they already out of room?
Callie entered the medical tent with Jessica and the escort, cradling the girl’s head and caressing her hair. What she saw inside was extremely disconcerting. The staff was clearly in way over its head. Four young nurses were running around, none more than twenty-five years old. Two of them wore the gold bar of a second lieutenant, indicating they had little to no practical experience. They quickly checked each patient and reported to a doctor who wore the rank of major. He was clearly not used to the barrage of information hitting him. He looked tired, overwhelmed, and hopeless. Two other doctors wearing captain rank were examining what appeared to be the more serious cases.
Assisting the doctor and nurses was a mess of enlisted medics - senior sergeants, newer sergeants, and a crop of privates who looked more scared than the people laid out on the stretchers. The foldable cots and litters occupying the sixteen by thirty-two foot canvas tent were getting pushed closer and closer together as more people were rushed in with the same symptoms Callie had been seeing since she’d woken up on the death slab. About a quarter of the patients were civilians who had had the same idea about traveling to Liberty State Park. The rest of them were soldiers. What had been optimism deteriorated quickly to reality.
Callie and Jessica stood near the entrance, between the first row of litters and a series of three rifle racks the staff and patients presumably used to store their weapons.
One of the more senior staff sergeants saw Callie looking lost and quickly approached. “Ma’am, are you OK?”
This is a strong-ass chick,
Callie thought.
She looks as calm as a Buddhist monk. I can see HER being the kind of person you thank for service.
The female sergeant, who looked to be between thirty and thirty-five, immediately saw the curds of dried blood under Jessica’s nose, as well as the crust of vomit on her face and clothing. The sergeant was dressed in the standard, green-tinted digital camouflage of the Army Combat Uniform, but she had removed her top, leaving her in a tan, sweat-stained t-shirt tucked into her pants. The outline of her sports bra peeked through the shirt. She had a stethoscope around her neck and wore a belt holding a multi-tool knife, a flashlight, and a cell phone. The shirt had little flecks of bio-matter all over it. Her eyes were dark, sunken into her olive Hispanic skin, and her dark hair pulled tightly in a bun behind her. The woman looked as if she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in years.
I bet this chick is really hot after a shower and some girl time.
“I’m fine, but the girl…” Callie had spoken only five words to this woman, but immediately felt a strong connection. She trusted her. She couldn’t explain it.
“Ma’am, my name is Staff Sergeant Ramos. May I examine your child please?” She reached for Jessica with a blend of maternal instinct and confidence.
My god, what the fuck is happening
?
Callie scanned her surroundings as Sergeant Ramos rested Jessica on a litter and began checking her vitals. Labored breathing and moans filled the air, as well as information yelled between doctors, nurses, medics, and anyone else able to speak. All Callie could smell was the pungent, sour odor of fresh vomit over a metallic whiff of blood. Next to the stretchers, on the exposed grass beneath the tent’s canvas roof, were piles of piss, shit, vomit, and gore. The slick ground squished underneath Callie’s knee-high leather boots.
This is absolute madness. Who the fuck is in charge here?
“Ma’am, when did this start?” Callie asked the sergeant.
The question hadn’t registered. Callie continued looking around, her mouth agape at the horror. She locked eyes with a corporal even younger than she was. His ACU pants were undone, his tan t-shirt untucked as he lay writhing in pain, clutching his abdomen. He looked terrified. He was muttering something that didn’t even sound like English. A stream of dark fluid steadily emanated from this mouth, and his eyes were tainted red – just like the people lying in the streets.
Wait a second.
The image of the bodies in the West New York Police Station popped back into Callie’s mind. She recalled the bullet wound in the back of the Officer Suarez’s head.
Holy shit.
Her face turned white.
A firm, gentle hand touched her shoulder, returning Callie to the present moment. “Ma’am, look at me.”
Callie did as she was told, locking eyes with Sergeant Ramos. Her panic slightly subsided.
“Ma’am, everything is going to be just fine. Tell me what happened to your little girl.”
She’s asking me even though she already knows. She isn’t even thinking about it happening to her. This chick is incredible.
“She got sick just before the sun went down.”
Hold it together! Jess needs me.
“I understand, ma’am. Has she been displaying outward signs of headache pain? Nausea?” Ramos held her clipboard. She was right handed, which made sense. She seemed very analytical.
“Yes,” replied Callie.
“Ma’am, what about discharge? Has she been experiencing any bodily discharge today?”
Stop calling me ma’am, I’m younger than you.
“Yes.”
“OK ma’am, pull up one of those folding chairs from the corner and have a seat next to your child. What is her name?”
“Jessica.”
“Jessica what?”
Callie started bawling. “I don’t know,” she blurted. “I lied, she’s not my daughter. I just wanted to help her! I’m really, really sorry! She’s a good little girl!”
Ramos was unfazed.
“I’m hiding a gun in my purse that I took off a dead cop this morning. I promise I don’t want to hurt anyone! One of your people at the gate tried to shoot me earlier because he was scared and they arrested my friend and I just want to go home!”
Sergeant Ramos touched Callie again, this time with one hand on each shoulder. She again locked eyes with Callie, her gaze so intense it was as if she were placing Callie under a hypnotic spell.
Don’t ever stop looking at me.
“Hey, it’s OK. You did amazing. You’re untrained and got all the way here. You saved a little girl, protected yourself, and didn’t crack under the pressure. You did it. Don’t worry about all that other stuff, it’s all just bullshit anyway. Let us take it from here. We got this. Just be there for little Jessica.”
Callie’s blubbering settled down to a sniffle as she regained some composure. “I’m just a fucking stupid stripper,” she said, managing her usual lighthearted giggle.
“Negative, ma’am. You’re obviously much, much more than that,” said Ramos.
“Stop calling me ma’am, I don’t deserve it. My name’s Callie Kennedy. What’s yours?”
“I’m Sam.”
Callie used the inside of her wrist to wipe away the tears. She was back to normal. It was as if the burst of emotion was a release valve for her sanity.
How do these people do this for a living? I think I understand a little more about Army people now. I can do better too!
“Sam, I’m sorry for my outburst. I feel stupid.”
“Hey girl, you’re human. We all are. My favorite place to go cry in Afghanistan was porta-shitters so no one else could see. We all have feelings, it just matters what you do with them.”
This woman should be my fucking role model.
“Sam, how can I help? I’m not a paramedic or anything, but I can help. Just tell me what to do. Please, it’s the least I can do.”
I’m not sick and neither is this chick, or all these other people running around trying to help. I have two choices: help, or give up like a little bitch.
The corporal writhing in pain let out a spine-tingling groan that sounded like a metallic screech superimposed over a human voice. Callie’s blood ran cold. Sam ran to him and placed her hand on the left side of his neck, between his jawline and shoulder. “Callie, come here and help me hold him down. He’s burning up. I need to get ice packs on him ASAP. He’s going to keep convulsing all apeshit if we don’t!”
Callie stood there.
What about Jess?
“You wanted to help, didn’t you? Come on! He’s worse off than the girl. I promise we’ll get to her next. Now move!” Ramos struggled to restrain the stocky patient.
This is one of those moments. None of this is about me.
Callie sprang to action, pressing all of her 105 pounds onto the corporal as he convulsed atop the gurney. She was getting manhandled, but was keeping him from hurting himself or anyone else with his haphazard flailing. She looked directly into his eyes. She could barely make out pupils through the thickening red membranes. He again let out the inhuman screech, this time inches from Callie’s face.
Ramos returned with the icepacks. “Callie, make a hole!” Chaos seemed to be spreading across the aid station. Indistinguishable panicked voices could be heard outside as well. Callie leaned to one side and watched as Ramos cut off the corporal’s shirt with the knife of her multi-tool. She then yanked his pants down to his ankles. He was not wearing any underwear.
“Sam, what’re you doing?” Callie asked.
“We need to cool him off NOW! It’s the only way he won’t get his brain fried!” Sam grabbed a few icepacks, smashing one into each armpit and another into his crotch. “Someone find me an unsoiled ice blanket!” she yelled.
Callie held the corporal down as his writhing intensified. “Dude, I don’t know if I can keep him down much more!”
Oh fuck.
Callie was thrown back onto her rear, landing on the exposed grass and almost knocking over Jessica’s litter. She landed in a pile of sticky bodily fluid. A mist of red liquid from the corporal’s spittle covered her face and clothing.