Dangerous world, p.8
Dangerous World, page 8
After supper, and a longer-than-he’d-hoped game of cards with Trent, Deb, Henry and Bulldog, Bear went through his usual nighttime routine. A splash of water to the face. A visit to the hospital’s new sawdust toilet block. A treat for Jess.
As Trent settled down for the night, Bear sat on the edge of his own bed. Jess was on Trent’s feet, but she was staring at Bear as if she knew something was going on that he wasn’t telling her about.
“Night, kid.” Bear reached over and patted Trent’s shoulder. Trent yawned a huge growl of a yawn and smiled.
“Night, PB. Thanks for today. I can’t believe I actually caught something. It was awesome.”
“You’re welcome, kid.” Bear gave the boy’s shoulder a squeeze.
As Trent turned away and snuggled down under his blanket, Bear did the same. Luckily, these days, they all slept in several layers of clothing, including coats and hats. But he’d taken his boots off and positioned them at the foot of the bed. Just behind them, tucked underneath the bed, was his backpack. He knew the truck held most of the supplies he needed—he’d been out there to check on it a few days ago—so he’d simply packed a few bottles of water, some medical supplies, the waterproof pants he wore when he went out hunting to protect his own pants from the snow, and the spare batteries for his hearing aid. Just one set; he’d soon need to source more.
Nearby, in the women’s section of the canteen, he pictured Deb closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep, safe in the knowledge that he would soon be bringing her daughter back to her. At least, he hoped that was what she was doing. He’d seen the pain in her eyes that afternoon and he hated to think that it was only the beginning for her of a very tough road ahead.
As Trent’s breathing became predictably deep and regulated—a small almost-snore coming from his nose on each in-breath—Bear rolled onto his back and crossed his hands behind his head so that his elbows were sticking out to the sides. The fireplace nearby was crackling nicely. He’d done a good job. He’d given the hospital everything he could. Now, he needed to give them Laurel.
“Wake me at midnight,” he’d said to Henry, who was on the first fire-shift that night. “I’ll take over.”
“Sure thing, boss.” Henry had picked up his book, seemingly quite happy to sit by the fire and read for a few hours, and offered him a salute.
Bear had wondered in that moment whether Deb had shared Bear’s plan with Henry. It wouldn’t surprise him, or upset him, if she had; the two of them had grown close. And he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to leave Deb behind if he hadn’t known she’d have someone to take care of her. Henry was a quiet man, the kind who answered a question when asked but who didn’t often offer unsolicited advice. So Bear supposed he’d never be sure one way or the other.
Blinking at the ceiling, Bear breathed out slowly and tried to persuade his body to begin relaxing into sleep. In the military, he’d become adept at catching a few hours’ sleep and waking up bang-on when he was supposed to. It was like he had an internal clock he could program. A very useful skill. But tonight, he was petrified it wouldn’t work. If he slept in, and Henry—for some reason—didn’t wake him either, he’d have to wait another night and he didn’t think he could stand that.
So for a few hours he tossed and turned, catching only the briefest slices of sleep until, eventually, he felt Henry’s hand on his shoulder. “Bear? Sorry, buddy. Your turn.”
Bear sat up quickly and shook his head. “I’m awake,” he said. “Thanks, Henry. You go get some sleep.”
As Bear stood up, Henry met his eyes. For a moment, Bear thought he was going to say something, but instead he just held out his hand to shake Bear’s.
“She told you, huh?” Bear said quietly.
Henry nodded and gripped Bear’s hand a little tighter. “She did. And she asked me to give you something.” Henry reached into the pocket of his large black coat and handed Bear something pink.
Bear frowned at it. Was it a scarf?
“It’s a coat. For the dog.” Henry was almost smiling. “She knitted it.”
Under other circumstances, Bear would have laughed at that—a great big belly laugh. Instead, he gripped it tightly in his hands and smiled, shaking his head at his mother-in-law’s choice of wool color.
“See you soon.” Henry patted Bear’s arm.
“See you soon.” Bear pulled Henry in for a brief hug, slapped his friend’s back, then strode over to the fire, sat down, and leaned forward onto his knees. Staring into it, he rubbed his hands together and tried to picture Jess in her new pink coat. It made him smile. When he looked up, Henry was in bed on the other side of the room. Trent was still sound asleep. But Jess was gone.
Bear’s heartbeat quickened in his chest. He was about to stand up to look for her when he felt something scrape his leg. He looked down. There she was. Bear scooped her up and put her on his lap. “I know you’ll miss the kid,” he said, ruffling her ears. “But Deb is right. I need you.”
Jessamine sat up and licked Bear’s mouth, then his chin, then his nose.
“All right, all right….” He stifled a chuckle. So, she was pleased to be coming with him. At least that was something. “You might not be so enthusiastic when you see your new outfit.”
Shoving the dog coat into his pocket for later, Bear settled back into the chair. For the next few hours, he tended to each fire, making sure they stayed lit, and mentally plotted his journey from the hospital to the parking lot.
The snow had stopped a few days ago, and didn’t look like it would be starting again too soon, which meant he had a good window of time to make some progress. It would be hard going through the snow, but he’d coped with worse. After all, he’d made it through the Boundary Waters with an infected wolf bite and no winter clothing. Compared to that, it would be a cakewalk.
At least, that was what he was telling himself.
As soon as the sky outside began to brighten, the windows along the top of the room turning from black to gray, Bear stood up and padded quietly to his bed, Jess under his arm. Setting her down and giving her a look he hoped said “wait,” he scooped up his boots. Then he slung his bag onto his back, retrieved his rifle, took one last look at the sleeping Trent, grabbed Jess and headed for the door.
As he approached the atrium and the doors leading to the most direct route from the hospital to the parking lot, his thick socks offered little cushion from the freezing floor beneath his feet. Now deserted, the atrium looked sad and empty. A few beds remained—ones they hadn’t needed to transport—along with chairs, their old trashcan fires, and some empty drug carts.
Bear weaved through them. He didn’t glance behind him; if Jess heard something, he’d see it in her ears.
At the doors, he paused and set her down on the floor. Taking his waterproof pants from his bag, he pulled them on top of the khaki ones he was wearing, then shoved his feet into his thick boots. Jess was waiting patiently. When he took Deb’s pink wooly coat from his pocket and tugged it over Jess’s head, she looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.
Looking at her, he grinned. “You look great,” he whispered. Then he picked up the crowbar they used to pry the doors open and set to work.
After a few seconds of hard pushing, they opened enough for him and Jess to squeeze through. Outside, the snow was deep but there were passable areas where people had walked the past few days—going out for fresh air or to hunt unsuspecting rabbits that might have ventured out of their homes.
Bear headed for one of the trees in the middle of what used to be the manicured lawn out front of the hospital, and scanned the ground. Picking up a branch with lots of small twigs attached to it, that looked almost broom-like, he nodded and retraced his steps.
Then, dragging his branch behind him to cover his footprints, he set off for the parking lot.
As he neared the large concrete structure, however, the snow became deeper and his pace slower. By the time he reached it, the sun was almost up over the horizon. It wouldn’t be long before the people inside the hospital woke up.
When Trent noticed he was gone, would he come looking for him? Probably not straight away. He’d assume Bear had taken Jess out to the bathroom or that he was off fixing something or building something. Bear hoped—calculated—that it would be mid-morning at least before the boy realized that he was missing. But he still needed to get away from the hospital grounds as quickly as possible.
Reaching the door to the lower level of the parking lot, Bear stopped. A few weeks back, he’d come out to check the truck was still there. He’d avoiding passing the body bags they had lined up. Bags containing the bodies of men he’d killed, Murph, and more. Brought out here because the morgue was too full and there were too many of them. But he knew they were there.
He screwed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to recalibrate. Focus on Laurel. On getting to Laurel.
Feeling himself return to earth, his heartrate slowing, Bear set Jess down on the ground and tucked his branch into the strap of his backpack. Last time he came out here, it had taken him far too many minutes to pry the door open. It had been frozen shut and blocked by more than a foot of snow that he’d had to shovel out of the way by hand.
But today, the snow didn’t need clearing.
He crouched down to examine the section of path in front of the door. Someone had swept it.
In his front pocket, he was carrying a bottle of homemade deicer—water with plenty of salt in case he needed it to get the door open. Standing up, he reached for it with one hand while he tried the handle with the other. He’d expected the door to be frozen shut. But it opened with ease.
Quickly, Bear replaced the deicer and, instead, reached for his gun.
He hesitated and glanced behind him. Had it snowed since he’d last been here? Yes. Not much, but it had snowed. He hadn’t seen any other footprints coming from the direction of the hospital, but a covered walkway led around the side of the parking lot. Someone could have entered that way without leaving a trace….
Giving Jess a signal to stay behind him, he pulled the door back and stepped inside, gun raised, scanning the stairwell. Directly in front of him was the door that led to the lower level. The bodies.
To his left, a staircase wound up to the higher levels of the multi-story parking lot. To his right were an empty vending machine and a ticket machine.
He moved forward. In front of the door to the lower level, he stopped and pressed his good ear up against it. Nothing. He looked at Jess. Her ears weren’t twitching. She looked relaxed, if a little ridiculous in her sweater.
At the foot of the stairs, he paused. He had a choice; check every level of the parking lot to see if there was someone here, or head straight for the truck and get the heck out of here.
He rubbed his now-fully-bearded chin—Laurel wouldn’t approve, but it was keeping his face warm. If whoever had cleared the entrance and snuck inside was here now, they’d have left wet footprints. There were none, which either meant they’d been here a while or had come and gone.
Either way, it was likely they were looking for shelter or supplies. His truck would provide both. So, skipping all the other levels, Bear headed straight for Level Eight, where he and Trent had abandoned the truck when they’d arrived all those weeks ago expecting to find Laurel.
As he opened the door, he steeled himself for what he might find. Every time he came to check on it, he expected the truck to have been ransacked, the supplies gone. Maybe even the truck itself—although he had no idea how anyone would get it through the snow. Now he’d seen evidence of someone apart from him being here, he braced himself for the discovery that this would finally be the day his fear was realized.
But he was wrong. There she was, just as he’d left her.
As if she knew what they were there for, Jess bounded up to the truck and started sniffing it. Quickly, having already sorted through everything to create a pile of essentials, Bear pulled a second—larger—pack from the passenger seat and began loading it.
Food, mainly protein bars and ration biscuits—the kind astronauts ate in space shuttles; who knew where the owner of the truck had found them—water purification tablets, matches, some empty water bottles, a fold-out cooking pot, two full water bottles, kibble for Jess, ammo, a hunting knife, and a tarp. Then he decanted the contents of his other backpack into this one, attached a sleeping bag to the bottom of it, and slung it onto his shoulders. It was heavy, but he’d carried heavier.
Taking the map from the glove compartment and checking his bearings, he breathed in deeply and nodded. He glanced out at the hospital, shimmering as the sun rose. “I’ll be back soon,” he said, then jogged back down the stairs and out into the snow.
11
BRITT
Every day since the snow stopped, Britt had traveled across town to sit beside Murph’s dead body. The lower level of the parking lot, with its frozen black body bags, had become so familiar it was like home now.
The most she could manage, before the cold started to bite at her nose and fingers, was an hour. She’d been tempted to light a fire, but knew she couldn’t risk warming the corpses.
Still, that hour each day was her favorite hour. It was the time she used to plot, and plan, and think of all the ways she’d get revenge on the one who took Murph from her.
Now the hospital was opening up again, people milling in and out to go for walks or to hunt rabbits and squirrels, doors unguarded, she could slip in easily. But how would she find the guy?
Instead, she’d vowed to wait. Wait until the weather turned, then start watching them. She’d figure out who he was, and then she’d figure out how she was going to get him.
Ryan and Bert told her she should stop. Let it go. Focus on finding them somewhere safe, setting up camp, building a new band of brothers and sisters who could help her when the time came to enact her plan.
But she ignored them.
This was her fight. She didn’t care whether they joined her for it or not.
She was reaching for the zipper on Murph’s body bag, tempted—as she always was—to see him one last time, when she heard something.
Taking hold of her gun, she stood up and hurried to the door. She stood behind it, gun raised, and pressed her ear to it.
Someone was in the stairwell. Someone was in the stairwell.
Her heart began to thud. She knew it wasn’t either of the guys, because they were too weak to even set foot in the place. What if it was someone from South Minneha? Come to move the bodies again? What if they’d decided it was time to burn them?
She stood back and steeled herself to shoot whoever stepped through that door; no way was she letting them take Murph from her a second time.
But no one came through the door.
She waited.
Still no one came.
Tentatively, she pushed the door open. She could hear footsteps above her, traveling up, pushing another door open. She frowned.
Then she ducked back onto the lower level and sprinted for the opposite end of the parking bays. There, she entered a second stairwell and wound her way quickly up, gently checking each door until, on Level Eight, she saw him—a big blond guy with a big brown beard.
He was on the other side of the parking level, standing next to a big red truck. A dog was at his feet. From the back of the truck, he seemed to be loading items into a backpack.
He fiddled with his ear.
“Well, I’ll be damned…” Britt muttered. From the dark of the stairwell, peering through a gap in the door, she knew he couldn’t see her. Even the dog hadn’t noticed. “It’s you, isn’t it?”
She squinted. Yes. He was wearing a hearing aid. A big blond guy with a dog and a hearing aid.
Her gut clenched. Her skin started to prickle. It was him. It was him!
“Ryan!” Britt was panting with the effort of running through the snow. Ryan and Bert had been waiting for her in the abandoned laundromat near the hospital. The rest of their small gang was still back at the warehouse, but whenever she visited Murph, Ryan and Bert insisted on waiting for her. As if they thought she couldn’t be trusted on her own; thought she might do something stupid.
They’d lit a fire and were sitting beside it, smoking and playing cards. Ryan looked up. Bert didn’t.
“Britt?” Ryan stood up slowly and put his hands on her upper arms. “What’s happened? Are you all right?”
Shrugging away from him, still out of breath, Britt shook her head. “I found him. The one who killed Murph.”
“The military guy?” Ryan glanced at Bert, who simply took a long drag on his cigarette.
“Yes. The military guy. He’s preparing to leave, so we need to hurry.”
“Preparing to leave where?”
“The hospital. I saw him packing a bag.”
“Britt, slow down. You saw him packing a bag?” Ryan was looking at her as if she’d lost her mind.
Rolling her eyes, Britt cursed and sucked in a deep breath. Snatching Ryan’s cigarette from him, she put it to her own lips and tried to calm down. “I was visiting Murph when I heard someone in the stairwell. He had a truck, hidden on one of the top floors. I watched him. He took a bunch of stuff from the truck and packed a bag. He’s going somewhere. And we’re going to follow him.”
“Follow him?” Bert stood up. “Why?”
At that, the anger and frustration simmering away in Britt’s stomach turned into a volcano. “Why?” She lurched forward, grabbing the collar of his jacket, holding the cigarette treacherously close to his sickly gray cheek. “Because he killed Murph. And our friends. Or had you forgotten!” She was trembling.
“No, no, of course not. What he did was unforgiveable. Terrible.” Bert had begun to stutter. Over the past few weeks, instead of growing angrier like she had, Bert seemed to have just accepted his girlfriend Marianne’s death. Britt had told him that after taking down the military guy, they’d go after the woman who killed Marianne, take her out too. But Bert seemed to just want to wallow. Taking action wasn’t his style.
