'What happened?' Nina asked sternly.
Sal coughed blood. 'They came out of the-aarrgg-woods…a couple dozen of ‘em.'
He started to fade, then snapped, 'Not long after you left… musta been watching… bastardi…'
Nina interrogated in an unyielding voice: 'What’s the status here? Casualties?'
Sal spoke before her questions finished. He might not have heard her at all.
'They…they left…oh Christ, this hurts…I think there’s still a bunch of our people hold up in the church… awwwggg…I dunno ‘bout mansion…they were all over us…'
Suddenly his eyes widened as much as a dying man’s eyes can widen.
'Sheila…they took Sheila.'
13. Fury
Sixty minutes later, Trevor convened a meeting in the Command Center on the second floor of the mansion. Nearly everyone who lived within walking distance, including those who had been a part of the airport convoy, crowded into the room. Stonewall entered last.
'We think they're gone,' Trevor said but he could not be sure; with the bulk of his Grenadiers still on their mission to the north, he could not dispatch scouts. 'Before Sal died he told us they'd been gone for about an hour but-'
'Frank Dorrance.'
Stonewall’s voice derailed Trevor's thought.
'What’s that?'
'His name,' Stonewall explained. 'Most of you were already well acquainted with Mr. Corso. Frank had not yet had the pleasure to become better known in our community.'
'I see,' Trevor said, but he did not.
'Frank lost two children back in June. I met him outside of Martinsburg, West Virginia.'
'West Virginia?' Trevor repeated. 'I thought he was from Maryland.'
'Because he wore a Maryland University football shirt. I had the opportunity to learn about the man beyond his favorite sports teams. He was over weight despite two months of near starvation, yet no one worked harder. I saw fit to assign him to a mortar team.'
Woody Ross recalled, 'He did a man’s job at the battle of Harper Tavern.'
'I see,' Trevor said again.
'I thought you should know the names of those who died under your command.'
Nina changed the conversation: 'Let's get the choppers in the air.'
Stonewall had more to say on a different subject. 'She’s probably still alive.'
'What?' Lori Brewer gasped from across the room.
Woody 'Bear' Ross’ said in his deep voice, 'The raiders were from the ‘Tribe of the Red Hand.’ ‘Least that’s what we call em’. They take human slaves.'
Stonewall drawled, 'We drew engagements against many of their number during our march. They are what your database would call a ‘primitive and organized’ force. Yes, I believe that would be the description.'
Ross said, 'Each will have at least one hand stained red with blood. This is some kind of rank. They look like us ‘cept they have no hair and their eyes are all the same color. '
'Almost ivory in shade,' McAllister said. 'I’m sure a physical examination will produce more points of differentiation. I believe the most important information is that they appear to abhor all machinations of our modern, technological society. They fight with primitive weapons and make their encampments in the wild. From what we saw on our journey north, they divide their tribes into a series of smaller camps, spread out but close enough for cooperation on the hunt. You’ll find them in clusters.'
Trevor mulled, 'The Tribe of the Red Hand…'
'There's a good chance Sheila is still alive?' Lori’s loud voice drew attention.
'Yes,' Stonewall agreed. 'Although uncooperative or useless prisoners are discarded.'
Useless.
'Nina, get airborne. Make sure these things have left our neighborhood. Don’t go out too far and I don’t want to waste fuel. You got an hour of air time, no more.'
Nina nodded. Trevor barked more orders.
'Jon, organize our people and place sentries. Until the rest of the Grenadiers get back, we need to be vigilante. I want a couple of people with heavy weapons at each of the farms for now, too. The rest of you…well, we have to clean up bodies.'
The group dispersed. Lori Brewer grabbed Trevor’s arm.
'They said she’s probably alive. We should go after her.'
'We don’t have the manpower. I bit off too much today and this is what happened.'
Her face contorted as if she eyed a monster. 'You can’t risk anyone for Sheila. Is that it? What if it were me out there? Or Shep? Or Nina? I guess you’re going to decide who’s worth saving and who’s not.'
'Lori, this isn’t about one person. Me, you, or anyone else.'
'You damn well better make it about one person; one person at a time. You want to save humanity? Then start showing some humanity yourself.'
– While Nina had been flying a fruitless patrol, Trevor helped pile bodies of enemy attackers on to a pick up truck that drove them to a field where the carcasses were burned. In contrast, they would inter Sal Corso and Frank Dorrance in a cemetery not far from the estate.
As for the K9s, Trevor had started a burial ground in the forest for man’s guardians.
In the midst of clean-up duty, the Grenadier war party returned from their mission, during which they slew two large frogs that posed little threat. Their big mission had been a waste.
Conversely, Omar’s team reported initial success in rigging a solar power grid at the new farm. Still, it would take several more days to complete.
Suddenly it hit Trevor that Sal and the Maryland Terrapins guy were the first people to die under his command. That thought stopped his walk right outside of Sheila Evans’ room. He realized he had nearly forgotten about her. He opened the door and stepped inside what had been her private little world.
A mess greeted him: candy bar wrappers, cups, and well-paged glamour magazines on the nightstand, a heap of clothes in front of a full-length mirror.
Sheila had been doing something in here; living some sort of life.
He sat on the bed and found a notebook poking out from beneath a pillow. Sheila had not recorded any dates in the book, but it apparently served as a diary. Trevor read from the pages.
I have not done one of these since eighth grade. Funny how I thought crushes and junior high dances were so important back then. Now I cannot remember what a normal life was.
I try to dream about it when I am awake. I daydream about eating at Milano’s. Sometimes I put on a nice dress and pretend I am going out for a night on the town.
I stole a bottle of wine from the pantry. If Trevor finds out, he will probably kick me out. Sometimes I sit here and sip the wine and I can almost hear the voice on the other side of the table or the questions from the maitre de.
Trevor turned the page.
More people keep coming. I do not think there is room for every one. What happens if the food runs out? They will probably want to get rid of me so there is more for the rest of them.
They act tough with their guns and talking like soldiers. I think they are really scared. I think they are just hiding. But I know that Trevor is not afraid. He does not have any thing to be afraid of. He is the biggest monster of them all. He hates me.
Again, another turn of the page.
I just want to stop being scared. I just want to stop crying every night. Is that too much to ask? No one else cries. Maybe I was not supposed to live through this. Maybe I should just die.
A break in the writing. The ink changed from black to blue giving the impression a significant amount of time
