Dylan’s eyes glittered. “I’d like to learn how to fight. I think I’d be good at it.”
“You would,” Tara agreed, eyeing Dylan’s athletic frame and determined expression. More than that, the woman was tough. Streetwise. Unlike me.
After a couple of minutes, Saul emerged and waved at them. Tara opened her door with nervous anticipation. “Here goes.”
She jogged toward the clinic with the shotgun held ready, Dylan right on her heels. They each carried an empty backpack, prepared to scrounge up supplies. “Is it clear inside?”
Saul nodded. “I took care of a couple of infected, and it’s safe to go in. It looks like someone raided the place already, but there’s still a bunch of stuff left. Grab what you can, as fast as you can. Don’t dawdle.”
“What about you?” Tara asked, a knot forming in her stomach. She hadn’t anticipated going inside without him.
“Someone needs to watch the Humvee. It’s a valuable commodity, and I’m not a very trusting individual,” Saul said. He patted her on the back. “Besides, you’ll be fine. You’ve got Dylan as a back-up.”
“I guess,” Tara said, gathering up her courage. It wouldn’t do to act like a wimp in front of everyone. Saul can’t do all the heavy lifting while I sit back each time, a quivering wreck.
Dylan moved to the front and pushed past Saul into the clinic. Tara followed, and the door swung shut behind her. The air was old and musty, and the furniture was covered in dust. Saul’s footprints on the floor were visible in the low light but faded deeper into the building where there was only darkness.
Dylan produced a flashlight from her pocket and flicked the switch on. “Where’s yours?”
“Right here,” Tara answered, picking a penlight out of her top pocket. It was small but powerful enough to do the job.
“Let’s hurry,” Dylan said, moving past the reception.
It wasn’t long before they found the dispensary, and they each grabbed what they could from the picked-over shelves. Saul had been correct. Someone had raided the place before them, but there was enough left to see them through their journey and beyond.
Tara found antibiotics, painkillers, disinfectants, bandages, band-aids, empty syringes, and a couple of other things. She took the time to examine each item and make sure it was useful.
Dylan was less discriminate, randomly dumping armfuls of stuff into her backpack. In no time at all, her bag was full, and she turned to Tara. “I’m done. How about you?”
“Not yet. We still need a couple of more things,” Tara said, shining her light around until she spotted a door that read ‘Examination Room’ on the front.
“Such as?”
“Sutures, scalpels, that kind of stuff,” Tara said. “Why don’t you wait outside with Saul while I finish up?”
Dylan hesitated. “Are you sure?”
“I’ll be fine. There’s no one here. Besides, I’m nervous about Saul being alone,” Tara confessed.
“Alright, but hurry up, or I’ll come looking for you,” Dylan said, backing away with her load of supplies.
“Deal,” Tara said, opening the door to the examination room.
Just like the rest of the clinic, it was empty. With her penlight in one hand and bag in the other, she searched the shelves for what they needed. It didn’t take long to locate the stuff. Gripping the light with her teeth, she tossed in the sutures, gauze, a metal tray, needles, and finally, a couple of scalpels. As she was about to leave, the sound of an opening door caused her to freeze. “Dylan? Is that you?”
Silence was the only answer she got.
The hair on the back of her neck rose. It was probably nothing, just her imagination, but it was better to be careful than sorry about it after the fact. With quick movements, she zipped up her bag and slung it onto her back.
With both hands freed, she removed her shotgun from its holster and held it low at her side and out of sight. With her left, she grabbed another scalpel, the edge wickedly sharp and lethal. The light went back into her pocket. She was confident she’d be able to navigate her way outside without it.
Tara moved toward the door and paused, her ears perked for any sound no matter how small. There was none. After a couple of seconds, she decided to make a run for it. The sooner she got back to Saul and Dylan, the better.
She took a few steps but stopped abruptly when a low voice said, “Don’t move, or I’ll blow your head off.”
Tara blinked. “Who’s there?”
“None of your business.” A light flicked on, and she was nearly blinded when it shone directly into her eyes. Against her better judgment, she tried to shield her eyes with her gun hand.
“Drop it. Now,” came the brisk command.
Every instinct she had rebelled against the man’s instructions, but she knew she had no choice. With careful movements, she placed her shotgun on the floor and straightened up once more. She still had the scalpel in the other hand and took care to conceal it in the folds of her coat.
The light swept across her body, and a low chuckle met her ears. “My, my, lookie here, Matt. We’ve got a real beauty on our hands.”
A second voice joined the first and spoke. “You’re right, Pete. She’s pretty, but a bit skinny for my tastes.”
“She’s not that skinny. There’s enough for all of us,” Pete said.
“I’m not alone. I’ve got friends,” Tara said with false bravado, but inside, she was quivering with fear.
“Oh, we know. We’ve been watching you and your friends for a while now, haven’t we, Matt? Your friends are being taken care of as we speak,” Pete said, placing the light onto the counter until it lit the entire room to a murky gray.
As if on queue, the sound of gunfire came from outside, and Tara jerked around. “No!”
“I told you not to move,” Pete barked, and Tara froze once more.
“That’s better. Now be a good girl, and come over here,” Pete said.
Tara hesitated. Now
