I hand Robert a couple of the tablets along with a fresh bottle of water. “Here, take these.”
“Thanks, Dad,” he replies, downing the pills.
I stare at the wound with dread as McCafferty finishes grinding up the tablets.
“Here, Dad,” Bri says, handing me bandage packets from the first aid kit.
“Thanks,” I reply, ripping several open.
McCafferty pours the powder on one of the bandages and I compress it over Robert’s wound, taping it in place.
“Does it feel any different?” I ask Robert.
“I really can’t feel it at all anymore.”
“Okay. You just sit here and don’t fuck with it.”
Turning to McCafferty, I ask her to tell Greg to get everyone loaded back up pronto. I’m in a rush to get back to the aircraft and hope that it hasn’t been overcome with night runners. If we can get onboard, I’d like to take off immediately, but I don’t know what to do about Harkins and the others. If the ramp is filled with our screaming comrades of the night, we won’t be able to load the others onboard. I suppose we could come back and get them.
I don’t really know what’s driving me to think that there’s anything that I can do for Robert at Cabela’s that I’m not already doing. Well, I do, it’s called fear. It’s that I will be doing something getting him home. I feel that the quicker I can get him home, the better his chances will be. However irrational that may be, it’s what I feel.
This places me in a quandary, though. I made promises to the others to take them back with us. I don’t really know what to do about that. I stow that aside knowing I really won’t be able to make a decision until I return and see the situation.
I step outside to let everyone crowd back onboard. Standing on the remote overpass in the middle of nowhere, with the empty highway passing underneath, I stare at the stars glittering though breaks in the clouds. The fields stretch into the night in shades of gray. A chilly breeze brushes against my pants legs. The sparkles high overhead make me feel so small and the barren fields mimic the emptiness I feel inside.
“Please don’t take another of my kids,” I whisper to the clouds passing slowly overhead.
They change shapes and, without responding, move on their way across the plains.
“We’re loaded, Jack,” Greg calls from inside the Stryker.
With a sigh, I step inside and close the hatch, never to visit this place again, but it will forever remain in my memory. The Stryker is packed, but a little more organized, so it seems roomier. With her head on his shoulder, Bri huddles close to Robert. Robert has his arm shyly around her shoulders. His look says that he really doesn’t understand all of the attention he is getting. Several of the soldiers reach across and pat him on the shoulder.
We start forward, heading down the dirt slope and enter the highway. The Stryker revs up and we pick up speed. Everyone knows the reason for the rush, but no one voices it. I mentally will the vehicle to move faster but the adrenaline is diminishing to a certain degree allowing a bit of reason to surface. I know in my mind that there is nothing I can do here or anywhere to help my son any more than what we are already doing. That doesn’t make me feel much better as I really want nothing more at this very moment than to be pulling into our sanctuary.
I know that, for me, this part of our search is over, however fair that may be to the soldiers. I need to get my son home. I also know that we will more than likely have to wait for morning before we can leave, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to hurry to the 130.
Pulling onto the ramp a short time later, I see night runners filling it. Some are gathered around the grills with the smell of freshly cooked meat drawing them. They are attempting to overturn or break open the firmly chained down barbecues. Others stand under the aircraft howling upward in their frustration at not being able to get in. The 130, with its ramp down, is being swarmed inside and out. Some of our goods are scattered across the tarmac. Seeing this settles any argument about taking the others and getting immediately airborne with Robert. No, we’re not going anywhere in the aircraft tonight.
“Take us out of town and find us a remote place to hole up for the night,” I say, watching several night runners start after our vehicle.
“Do you want me to take them down, sir?” the gunner asks.
“No. We can’t take the chance of an errant ricochet. Let’s just get out of here,” I reply.
I have Greg radio Harkins telling them our situation and that we’ll see them in the morning. The speakers echo in the interior as Harkins asks about the people we set off to rescue. I don’t hear Greg’s answer but Harkins’ reply of, “That’s good,” says it all.
I ask Greg to make sure Tim and his group are ready to go at first light.
“Will do,” is all I hear of that conversation.
We head off base and back down the highway to the south, parking on an overpass in the middle of nowhere. The ramp lowers and I arrange with Greg to alternate teams on perimeter. I know I need rest as we have to fly out in a few short hours, but I know I won’t be able to sleep. The teams scramble out and Greg works with Reynolds to get the kids as comfortable as possible. I remain inside with Robert. Bri continues to sit next to him but she isn’t leaning on him like she was. Robert probably told her to get off him.
I peel back the taped bandage. It looks clean with just a little redness surrounding the teeth marks. Crushing up more pills, I apply them liberally before taping a clean bandage across the wound. He’s still breathing and the wound looks clean which brings a little of my dread down. Not much, but a little. I remember my wound and the time it took before the effects announced themselves. The itchiness began almost immediately and never left, but the headache took some time before manifesting itself.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“I feel fine, Dad.”
“Any itchiness?”
“No.”
“Headache?” I ask.
“No.”
“I need you to tell me the truth. This is important and not a time to be manly,” I say.
“I’m telling you the truth. I feel fine. A little tired, but fine,” he responds.
“Okay. You tell me if you start feeling anything. I mean that.”
“I will, Dad.”
I hear footsteps on the ramp. Glancing to the side, I see Sergeant Reynolds walking our way.
“How are you feeling?” she asks Robert.
I can tell he’s getting tired of being asked that and just wants to roll his eyes. Instead, he answers with an “I’m feeling fine, thanks.”
“Seeing how we aren’t going anywhere tonight, it seems like it’s a good time for a story. Let’s start with yours,” I say to Reynolds, patting the seat next to me. She sits and relates her story.
“Well, sir. We came out of North Carolina when radiation levels began spiking. We were the only ones left of our unit. With the goal of reaching Colorado, we took back roads after we ran into a few unsavory types. We were looking for a place to hole up for the night when we were waved down by the teachers. That would have been, let’s see, the day before yesterday. There were more than…of the kids and us. We barricaded the place as the sun was setting, but those creatures broke through our initial fortifications during the night. That’s when we lost the teachers and a couple of the kids. I lost three soldiers defending them, but we managed to hold the creatures off until sunrise. It was…terrible. Listening to their screams, and I don’t mean just the creatures’. I wanted to gather everyone up and leave during the day, but one of the teachers and two of the kids were injured. We couldn’t move them and we couldn’t just abandon them. The last of them died close to sundown. We had vehicles gathered but, well, it was too late to head out, so the only thing we could do was fortify the place and try to hold out again. It was hard communicating with the kids, but we managed to get them into the classroom and we, well, then hoped for the best. We called last night as well. Did you hear our calls?” she asks, finishing her story.
“No. We just arrived at McConnell AFB today,” I answer.
“Well, I’m sure glad you did. Thank you again, sir. We would have perished there tonight, along with all of the kids, if you and the others hadn’t come. And thank you, what did I hear you called…Robert?”
Robert nods wearily.
“You said you came out of North Carolina?” I ask, glancing at Robert checking for the start of a fever.
