They were all over him now; they leapt and tackled him to the ground, then more piled on. Jacob tried to fight back but was pressed against the pavement with his head turned to the side. He could feel the things tugging at his legs, trying to drag him off. He heard the clang on the street beside him and recognized the round metallic object that was rolling in his direction. He closed his eyes tight and waited for the explosion he was sure would come.
Chapter Six
The ceiling was made up of evenly spaced old wooden beams; holes had been drilled through them and strands of wire were stretched between each timber. Heavy wooden floorboards with small breaks between them allowed bright light to filter in. The rays cut his pupils, causing them to contract; he closed his eyes. He heard heavy footsteps above him and clomping of heavy feet. Scattered dust drifted through the beams of light and he watched pieces of earth slowly fall until they touched his face. He lay staring at the ceiling as if in a dream; his eyes open and aware, he stayed immobile waiting for his body to catch up with his brain.
Suddenly, Jacob jerked and stiffened as the feelings of pain and fear filled his body. He tried to sit up—until agony shot through his shoulder and hip. Jacob looked down and saw that a green field dressing covered his wounded side. He felt the pressure of a heavy hand on his chest.
“Whoa there, big guy; just relax,” a soothing voice whispered.
“Wha… where am I? Where’s my family? Where are Laura and Katy?” Jacob asked, breathing heavily. Still struggling to sit up, he knew he needed to relax but couldn’t fight off the fear. His heart was beating out of his chest and he felt the sweat gather on his forehead.
The soldier scooted closer and Jacob recognized the face of Murphy, the soldier he had met on the street. “I need you to stay quiet; okay, buddy?” Murphy whispered as he pointed to the ceiling. “Can you do that for me?”
Confused and angry at being spoken to like a child, Jacob glared at the man. He wanted to get to his feet, to escape, to find the trucks. He needed to get to Laura and Katy.
Jacob was about to protest again when he heard more hollow, heavy steps on the plank floor above. They slowly faded and were followed by a loud slap of a screen door. Against a far wall, Jacob saw a tall black soldier standing on an old crate and looking out a narrow window. The man turned and looked back in his direction.
“They gone, Sergeant; all of ’em. Just moved back down Oak Street.”
“Shit. That’s the third time they’ve been through this house; not sure how long our luck is going to hold,” Murphy whispered.
Jacob moved his good arm behind him, pushed, and forced himself into a sitting position. Feeling bolts of pain fire through his trembling body, he scooted so that his back rested against a rough block wall.
“You said Oak Street? Where the hell am I? What happened back there?” Jacob whispered.
Murphy looked down at him with concern. “I need you to relax okay. Just chill for a bit and let those wounds set up. You took some frag from that grenade.”
The other soldier walked away from the window and sat against the wall near Jacob. “It was superficial, but damn, you’re a bleeder. I patched you up and ended up using all the damn med kit on your ass,” the soldier said. “You remember any of it?”
Jacob looked down, letting his hand tenderly touch the bandage. “Thank you… I guess. Wait, where… where’s my family?” Jacob stuttered.
“They’re safe; I’m sure they made it back—” Murphy started to say before Jacob interrupted him.
“Then you don’t know.” Jacob said.
Murphy raised a finger to his lips and pointed at the floor above.
Stephens shook his head, watching Jacob. “Fools, man… we never shoulda stopped for that last set. We’d be back on the base behind the walls if we’d just kept going. Hell… I should have never reported to duty at all. I should have stayed home.” The soldier swung his head down to hold it in his hands. “I’d be downstate right now, quiet and comfy.”
“Cut it, Corporal; our job is to collect civilians, not take care of our own asses,” Murphy said.
“Man, that’s bullshit. Who gonna care for all them civilians now, with Second Squad gone?” Stephens muttered as he looked down and dug through a small pack. He reached in, pulled out a small bottle of water, and handed it to Jacob. “Here, drink this down. You lost a lot of blood, need to replace those fluids.” Stephens reached back into his bag and removed Jacob’s pistol. “Take this too. I topped off the mag for you. I seen you in action back there. Next time, slow down and aim; you’d have better luck with it.”
Jacob held the pistol in his hand. Ignoring the water, he said, “I don’t understand how I got here? Who are you?”
“Hmmh,” Stephens grunted. “Some appreciation that is… Guess you took a hard thump to the grape. Yeah, I’d be jacked up in the head too.”
“Where’s my family?” Jacob said, trying again to get to his feet.
Murphy put his hand up. “I already told you, your family is safe. I think so anyway; the base is locked up tight and those things haven’t gotten in yet. Now… like I said before, you need to chill. If those wounds get to bleeding again, we’ll be stuck here.”
Jacob exhaled loudly, his frustration growing. “Where is here?”
He watched Murphy reach into his pack and pull out a brown plastic pouch the size of a large book. He used his knife to open the package, and then dumped smaller packages on the floor in front
