motorcycle rumble away — two different ones, he guessed, both Harleys. Bit by painful bit, memories of his devastating trip down the underground river crystallized.
'Help!' he cried out. 'Hey, someone help me!'
He waited for a reply, then yelled again. Tentatively, the door across from him opened, and a slightly built woman in her twenties peeked in and put her finger to her lips. She had badly spiked purple hair, dense black eye shadow, and piercings through her nose, brows, and lower lip. Her black leather pants were frayed and dusty, as were her black T and leather vest.
'Quiet!' she whispered urgently. 'They'll tend to you when they're ready.'
'But I need to get — '
The woman had already pulled away and closed the door behind her. Matt waited a few minutes and then began hollering again. This time, when the woman reappeared, she had a child on her hip — a boy, two years old, filthy and frail, with a sallow complexion, thick greenish mucus draining from both nostrils, and a deep, nasty cough. She tossed Matt a tattered brown army blanket.
'Look, I told you to shut up,' she said, still in a pressured whisper. 'They ain't much likelihood they ain't gonna kill you. But yellin' like that an' disturbin' the children will take care a what little chance you got.'
The woman moved to go, but this time hesitated when he spoke.
'Wait, please, I'm a doctor,' he said quickly. 'My name's Matt Rutledge. Dr. Matt Rutledge from Belinda. I don't know how I got here or even where I am, but I've got to get away and get some help. My friends are trapped in a mine cave-in and they're going to die.'
'You ain't no doctor,' she said. 'They said you had a gun. Doctors don't carry guns.'
'I can explain that. Look, your boy there has a bad sinus infection and probably a throat infection, too. I'll bet he isn't eating or sleeping well. He should be checked over by a doctor, and soon. He needs antibiotics.'
'We don't go to no doctors.'
'I can take care of him. I can get you the medicine he needs. What's your name?'
The woman's eyes narrowed.
'Becky,' she said finally. 'This here's Samuel. An' don't go callin' him Sam neither. His daddy gets mighty angry at that.'
'Well, I'm a really good doctor, Becky, and I can get Samuel better. Just let me go and get some help for my friends. Then I'll be back to take care of him.'
Indecision flickered across Becky's face but then just as swiftly vanished.
'I did that an' they'd never find all the pieces of me,' she said. 'You jes lay still an' keep quiet. If yer not a doctor, Bass'll kill you quicker'n you kin snap yer fingers. An' if you are, he'll most likely do you anyway. Now shut up!'
'But — '
This time the door slammed shut.
'Becky, please,' Matt called out.
There was no response. He looked up at the small window, trying to get a sense of the time of day. How long had he been gone? His damp clothes and the freshly clotted blood suggested it hadn't been all that long, but he couldn't be certain. The handcuffs were police-department grade and put on way too tight to slip out of. He set his feet against the wall, grasped the copper pipe with both hands, and tried to pull it loose. The futile effort sent a fusillade exploding through his head. Frustrated, he sank back onto the oily rags and kicked the walls until his strength was gone. There had to be a way out. Waiting for Bass or whoever was supposed to kill him did not seem like his best chance.
'Becky,' he shouted. 'Samuel is sick. Really sick. You know he is. He's not going to get better without medicine. That stuff draining out of his nose is serious. I can help him. He could get very ill. Please listen to me. People are going to die if I don't get some help. Don't leave me here like this.'
'Bass, no!' he heard Becky cry.
An instant later the shed door burst open. The man stood there, filling the space. He was six-five, with shoulders that nearly spanned the doorjamb; heavily tattooed, tree-trunk arms; and a massive gut. His thick, shoulder-length auburn hair and full beard hadn't seen a scissors in months, if not years, and his vest, perhaps once the covering for an entire cow, was studded with chrome spikes. His narrow, feral eyes held not a bit of warmth.
'Who the fuck are you?' he said, taking a step into the shed. 'And who do you work for?'
Behind him, Matt could see at least one other biker, as well as Becky, Samuel still riding on her hip. He pushed himself to his feet.
'I'm a doctor,' Matt said, certain that he had better state his case quickly. 'My friends and I were trapped in a mine explosion. I swam out in the river to get help.'
'Bullshit.'
'No, please, it's true. I'm from Belinda. I need to get to the Slocumb brothers' farm off 82. Do you know them? They can vouch for me.'
'I don't know them. I don't know nothin' except that you were where you shouldn't have been with a gun in your pocket. Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. You DEA?'
'No, I'm a doctor from Belinda.'
'I'm gonna find out, and I promise it ain't gonna be pleasant for you. Tell me who you work for and I'll see to it you don't suffer too much. Fuck with me, and I promise you'll be beggin' to die.'
'What I told you is the truth,' Matt pleaded stridently. 'I swear it is.'
Bass stepped forward, grabbed Matt's shirt in his massive fist, and lifted him onto his toes. Matt could smell the odor of marijuana wafting from his clothes.
'You have half an hour,' Bass growled.
He whirled and left, slamming the door with a force that threatened to collapse the shed.
'I'm tellin' you, he really is a doctor,' Matt heard Becky say. 'Ask him to look at Rake.'
'No!'
'Christ, Bass, he's your brother.'
'Shut up! This guy's a fed and in a little while he's gonna be a dead fed. This ain't no fuckin' game we're playin' here. I want to know how in the hell he found us.'
Drugs! Matt felt certain the bikers were either growing them, processing them, or more likely both. He again checked the single window. The overcast sky seemed brighter now. Time was running out — for him, for Nikki, and for the rest of those in the cavern. It was also running out for some children who were about to receive the so- called vaccination of a lifetime.
For a while, he lay in silence, assuring himself again that the handcuffs were unyielding, and trying to conjure up a way to expand on his primitive effort to exploit Becky, clearly a weak link in the chain. Twice a bike rumbled off. He couldn't tell for certain if either was one he had heard before. He imagined his own Harley and the indescribable sense of freedom and completeness he felt when riding the hills. Then, soundlessly, Becky eased open the door, slipped inside, and closed it behind her. Samuel wasn't with her. Instead, she was carrying a dirty pillowcase, partially filled with something.
'You are a doctor, ain't you?'
'Just like I said. Becky, I — '
'Tell me which of these will help Samuel.'
She dumped the contents of the sack onto the floor in front of him — dozens of bottles and vials of various pills and liquid meds, almost all of them legitimately labeled from one pharmacy or another.
'The guys 'mos always clean out the medicine cabinets a the houses they… um… visit,' she whispered. 'They all love Perks and Oxys, but a couple of 'em prefer codeine. The rest a the pills they jes keep around. Will any a these help Samuel?'
Matt fingered through the vials and picked out two different brands of amoxicillin, 250 milligrams — thirty capsules in all.
'This'll work,' he said, pulling one of them apart. 'Just take about half the powder from one of these capsules and mix it in his food three times a day. For the first dose, use a whole capsule's worth. Does Samuel have any allergies?'
'Any what?'
