At first she thinks her and the kids were taken back to Cabela’s but the sight above her doesn’t fit.
“Ah, you’re up. Good,” she hears the man at the desk say. She gives a grunt in reply.
“Okay, listen up because I’m only going to tell you this once,” he continues.
She listens but his words don’t really penetrate. He seems to be telling her rules of some kind. She hears and takes it in as best she can with her mind feeling like a ball of cotton. From the substance of the rules, she gathers they have been captured and are being held. That is in line with their being run off the road. She looks down and notices her gear has been removed. Gonzalez then sinks to her knees on the floor and shuffles over to Bri to check on her. She notices Bri’s chest rise and fall beneath the black fatigue top. Lying on a basic olive drab cot, Bri seems to be just sleeping.
“What are you doing?” The man asks rising from his chair.
“I’m just checking on her,” Gonzalez replies although her voice seems to come from a thousand miles away and as if she has a mouthful of marbles. She knows she has a concussion.
“Okay, just this time and no whispering. If you talk, I want to be able to hear it,” he says sitting back down and bringing his semi-automatic pistol up.
At Bri’s side, Gonzalez notices cots taken up by other women and girls. They are either sitting like Michelle or lying on their cots, all watching Gonzalez. Looking over to Michelle, who is now looking at her, Gonzalez asks if she is okay. Michelle nods but the movement makes her turn pale and she immediately covers her mouth. Michelle glances around anxiously, rises, runs over to a small garbage bin, and throws up what little she has in her stomach. The guard rises and watches alertly. Finishing and wiping the tears away, Michelle stumbles back to her cot.
“Just lie down, Michelle,” Gonzalez says. “It will pass.”
Turning back to Bri, Gonzalez looks her over for any obvious injuries. Her skin color looks good and she doesn’t find anything apparent. Patting Bri lightly on the cheek, she whispers but loud enough for the guard, who is beginning to sit once again, “Bri. Bri. Wake up.”
Bri feels something tapping against her cheek and hears her name being called. It seems from so far away but becomes clearer with each call. Pain in her arm flares and the dull throbbing pulses her head in rhythm with her heartbeat. She opens her eyes and sees Gonzalez above peering down at her. The fear of the chase and waking with a different view causes a jolt of adrenaline. Seeing Gonzalez above her calms her to an extent but her mind fills with questions.
“What happened?” She asks.
“I’m not exactly sure. Are you okay? Anything hurt?” Gonzalez asks.
“My arm hurts,” she answers.
“Which one? And where?” Gonzalez asks looking down.
“My left arm. On the forearm,” she replies.
She watches as Gonzalez unbuttons the sleeves of her top and gently rolls the sleeve up. The left forearm is swollen and red at about the midpoint.
“Flex your fingers for me, Bri,” Gonzalez says.
Bri brings her fingers to a fist but it’s difficult and increases the pain to the point that beads of sweat break out on her forehead. She groans as she brings her fingers to a fist once again.
“That’s okay, Bri. Relax them. You may have a fracture so don’t move your arm,” Gonzalez says beginning to unlace her boots.
“Hey you! What are you doing?” The guard asks once again.
“This girl may have a broken arm and I’m making a splint for her. Can you see if there are any rulers in the desk I can use?” She asks the now standing guard.
He eyes her suspiciously for a moment and then reaches down to open a drawer. Rummaging around, he places two long rulers on the edge of the desk.
“You can come up and get them but if you try anything, I won’t hesitate with this,” he says waving his gun.
The guard backs away from the desk and motions for Gonzalez to approach the desk. She rises feeling the sharp pain shoot through her head. Nausea grips her. She pauses to get her balance and waits for the feeling to subside. The guard gestures impatiently and Gonzalez holds out a hand asking him to wait a moment. Her equilibrium restores and she walks slowly to the desk retrieving the rulers.
Removing her socks, Gonzalez has Bri hold the rulers in place making sure the ends extend past the wrist in order to keep the forearm as immobilized as possible. Bri grimaces as Gonzalez ties the socks tightly against her arm.
“If you feel your fingers go numb or tingly, tell me or, if I’m not around, loosen the socks and retie them looser. How does that feel?” Gonzalez asks.
“It’s still throbbing but better. Thanks,” Bri says giving Gonzalez a smile which she returns.
“Where are we?” Bri asks looking around.
“I’m not sure to be honest,” Gonzalez answers.
“Where is everyone else?”
“Michelle is here behind me but I’m not sure where Robert is.”
Bri sighs and stares at the ceiling. What she took to be an adventure at the start, with the exception of not knowing where her mom is and the possibility that she turned into a night runner, has turned into anything but that. First her mom, then Nic, and now Robert. She feels a terrible sadness thinking she is the only one left. A tear runs down her cheek. Gonzalez gently wipes it away.
Gonzalez looks to the guard, who is staring out at the sunny day, and whispers, “We’ll get out of here, you have my word on that.”
“It’s not that. I’m the only one left,” Bri says as another tear follows the first.
“Now Bri, I’m sure Robert is fine. I think they segregated us. Look around, there’s only women here,” Gonzalez whispers. Bri turns her head and looks around slowly. A small vestige of hope rises as she verifies Gonzalez’ words.
“How are we going to get out of here?” Bri asks focusing once again on Gonzalez.
“We’ll worry about that when we rest up and feel better. And, don’t forget, there are the others. They’ll find us,” Gonzalez says.
“How will they find us?”
“I was able to get a radio call out and your dad’s a very resourceful man,” Gonzalez answers to which Bri smiles. The tears clear up but her thoughts still remain on her mom and Robert. Looking around further, a light bulb goes off in her head.
“I know where we are,” she says quietly. “This looks like Mrs. Watford’s classroom. I think we are at my high school.”
“That’s enough! I said no talking unless I can hear you. Back to your cot,” the guard says coming out of whatever reverie he was engaged in.
With a gentle touch on Bri’s shoulder, Gonzalez retreats back to her cot. They are held in the room for the rest of the day, the only break coming when meals are brought. They and the others in the small classroom eat their meals quietly. Sitting in the classroom, Bri verifies they are in fact in her “old” school. Michelle is withdrawn but when Bri tries talking to her, she finds that Michelle is also worried about Robert. She repeats Gonzalez’ words about the appearance of being segregated. Bri watches as she sees the same hope, which she had upon hearing those words, leap in Michelle’s eyes.
Another guard joins them in the classroom for the evening. Bri hears a few night runner shrieks erupt during
