from the Stryker opening having apparently settled our guests.
“What happened?” he asks, noticing Robert limping with my arm around him.
“He was bitten,” I shout. Yelling is the only way to be heard in the cacophony of shrieks and screams. “Your team is on the right, Red is on the left. Pull them back and let’s get the fuck out of here.”
I see an expression of worry cross his features at my comment about Robert but he nods and hurries off. I get to the Stryker filled with kids and Reynolds’ soldiers. It’s crammed full, but we’re going to have to pack even tighter with the teams behind conducting a fighting withdrawal. A series of titanic, rumbling explosions comes from inside the building. Turning, I see the teams in full retreat down the entrance hall.
“Make room! Pile on top of one another,” I yell, setting Robert down on one of the seats.
I lean over him, pressing against one of the walls to make room for those streaking down the corridor. They pile into the Stryker and, as they do, the ability to move becomes impossible. Sardines in a can have the luxury of roomy accommodations compared to us but we manage. The rear ramp closes with a clang muting the screams of night runners.
“Get us out of here,” I yell, barely able to inhale enough to do so.
The vehicle lurches forward. None of us inside move as there’s barely enough room to breathe. We rumble down the stairs and begin accelerating across the parking lot, leaving what’s left of the night runners on their own. Normally, I’d have a sense of relief, but my son, sitting pressed against me, has been bitten. I know what that means and my inability to do anything at the moment heightens my anxiety.
“Where to?” I hear Greg’s voice rise above the sobbing of the children.
This can’t be very comfortable for them as we are basically stacked like cordwood inside.
“We need to get to an open stretch of highway where there’s no danger of night runners and do so in a hurry,” I shout back.
My fear for Robert constricts me more than the press of bodies. I feel like I’m being crushed inside and find it hard to breathe. The vehicle can’t move fast enough. I need to look at his injuries - to get some antibiotics into him and on his wound. And I mean now!
“How are you doing?” I ask, not able to even move my head down to look at him.
“Okay, I think. It burns a little, but most of the pain has gone away,” Robert replies.
“Robert? Are you okay?” I hear Bri’s voice call out from somewhere in the tangle of bodies.
“I’m fine, Bri,” he answers.
“Are you okay, Bri?” I ask.
“I’m fine, Dad.”
I’m thankful to hear her voice and know she is safe. The terrible moments of seeing Robert go down continue to run through my mind like a horror movie being played over and over.
“Bravest thing I ever saw,” Gonzalez says from somewhere close.
“Thanks,” Robert responds shyly.
“And maybe the dumbest,” I mutter.
“I know, Dad. I just saw her and reacted. Sorry,” Robert says.
The truth of the matter is, I would have done the same thing had I noticed the girl. Anyone here would have. Robert’s reaction shows that truly he is a soldier.
My anxiety doubles with that thought. I know what I went through and saw others who didn’t make it after they were bitten. If I lose another of my kids, I honestly don’t know how I’ll survive. My stomach is in knots and I can feel my sanity slowly slipping away.
“Can you drive this thing any faster?” I call out.
“We’re going as fast as we can, Jack,” Greg answers. “We’ll be on the highway in a few minutes.”
“Dammit,” I mutter.
Time is of the essence here. I can visualize whatever it is in the night runner’s blood or saliva coursing upward through Robert’s veins. Yeah, we did a greater good rescuing the soldiers and kids; but, for me, the cost may have been too high. There is nothing that is worth the loss of any of my kids. I feel hot tears of pain, frustration, and sorrow stream down my cheeks.
My tears must have dripped on Robert as he pipes up, “Dad, seriously, I’m okay.”
I don’t say a thing in reply. I just want this behemoth to hurry the fuck along. We should be in Canada by now with the time it’s taking. If we don’t reach the road soon, I’m going to explode and it’s not going to be pretty. I’m so pent up that I can literally feel my heart being squeezed.
The Stryker comes to halt after we have seemingly traveled for days. The crying of the kids has simmered to a few sobs. They are either feeling a little safer or have been smothered. My money at this point is on the latter. It’s definitely a touch on the warm side and feels like most of the oxygen has been sucked out of the air. I pay attention to these things only on the peripheral of my mind. My focus is on seeing to Robert.
“Jack, we’re parked on an overpass away from any structures. It looks clear and our elevated position gives us good visibility into the surrounding area,” Greg calls from in front.
I have to hand it to Greg. He knows I’m a little out of it and is seeing to things. I’ll have to thank him, but right now, I’m itching for some room.
“Okay. Open the hatch. Everyone out. Teams on the perimeter. Reynolds, you and your team stay with the kids. Make sure they don’t wander off,” I say.
The lights go off causing the kids to begin crying again. Fresh, chilled air rolls through the interior as the ramp is lowered. Teams at the rear un-pile from one another and exit, setting up a small circular perimeter. Telling Robert to stay put, I exit so that the others toward the front can get out.
The interior rapidly empties with just the driver, gunner, and Robert remaining within. I catch Reynolds as she passes by.
“Can those kids read? Or the oldest?” I ask her.
“I’m not sure, sir. I never thought along those lines to be honest,” she answers.
“See if the oldest or one of the others can. Write a note telling them they’re okay or something like that and have her sign to the rest,” I say. “And give them a flashlight so they can see.”
“Will do, sir.”
With that, I step inside. Robert has his pants leg rolled up and is looking at the wound. Walking to him, I immediately see a bite mark. Fuck…fuck…fuck. Kneeling, I look closer. There aren’t any chunks that have been ripped out but several of the teeth marks have penetrated through the skin. The one thing that just about sends me over the top is the vast amount of drying blood covering his pant legs and skin from the gore that was blasted out of the night runner’s head. That has soaked through and coats his skin around the wound. Fuck…fuck… fuck.
“Are you feeling okay?” I ask, knowing full well what I went through.
“Yeah, Dad, I feel fine. It just stings a little,” he answers.
“What in the hell were you thinking…running back like that without cover?” I ask, reaching for a bottle of water.
“I did say something. Besides, there wasn’t time. They were almost on her.”
I’m torn between telling him good job or what a foolish thing it was. I mean, I get it and, as I thought before, I would most likely have done the same thing. That doesn’t make me feel any better though. Taking my knife out, I slice his pant leg upward and then around, cutting the lower section away. I toss the scrap of clothing outside and begin pouring water over the wound to clear away any remaining blood. I remove my T-shirt and begin quickly cleaning the wound trying to keep the blood from the breaks in the skin.
“Next time, wait for cover…and, although I’m not really in much of a frame of mind to say so, that was the single most courageous thing I ever saw…or the most stupid. Just don’t ever, I mean ever, do that again,” I say, wiping the last vestiges of gore clear.
“Sir, is there anything I can do to help?”
I turn to see McCafferty standing at the opening. Bri is standing just behind her looking on with worry.
“Yeah. Crush these up,” I reply, handing her a few antibiotic pills that we all carry. “And get some bandages from the first aid kit.”
