Mason slouched in an oversized leather chair that pulled out into a one-person sleep sofa. Bowie rested in a huge furry pile at his feet, snoring softly. A few feet away, Chief Blue was lying on a hospital bed, an intravenous tube dangling from his arm to a bag of clear liquid. He was looking intently at Ava, who stood next to the bed studying his medical chart.
“Am I going to make it, Doc?” he choked out in a gravelly voice.
She shrugged. “Hard to say.”
Chief Blue smiled. “Doc, your bedside manner needs some work.”
“With enough rest, you’ll be fine,” she said, squeezing his shoulder. “We recovered the bullets and largely repaired the damage. But you’re going to need a couple of weeks of bed rest and even more months of taking it easy. Give your body a chance to heal properly, okay, Chief?”
“Believe me. My wife will insist on it.”
Ava looked over to Mason.
“How’s my other patient?”
He touched the scab that had formed on his scalp.
“Tender.”
“That’s not a word anyone would ever use to describe you.” Her face was serious. “What you did was …” She closed her eyes, and for a moment, he thought she might cry.
“I’m fine, Ava. You know that better than anyone. A graze here.” He touched his scalp again. “Another one here.” He gently rubbed his shoulder. “They’re nothing.”
She nodded, tears welling in her eyes.
“Yes, but an inch here or there, and we’d have lost you.”
He stood and put his uninjured arm around her.
“I’m fine,” he repeated. “How’s your eye?”
She touched the edge of the large bruise surrounding her left eye.
“A reminder to stop being stupid.”
He kissed her eye very gently. In turn, she kissed him on the lips. Then she pulled back and straightened her doctor’s coat.
“Okay, then. I have more patients to check on.” As she swung the curtain aside to leave, Don and Vince stood waiting like kids outside the principal’s office. “Well, go on,” she said, “but keep it short. The chief needs his rest.”
Don had repaired his prosthetic leg and was back on two feet again. Both men had an assortment of small cuts peppering their faces.
“You two look like you gave mouth-to-mouth to a bobcat,” said Mason.
“What are you talking about?” said Vince. “We look great.”
They all laughed.
“When they blew the rooftop door, we both took a face full of splinters,” explained Don. “Missed the eyes, thankfully.”
“That was good work holding the tower.” Mason looked from one man to the next. “It took a lot of grit.” Embarrassed, they both looked to their feet.
“I can only speak for myself,” said Vince, “but I was as afraid as a six-year-old schoolgirl facing a pack of wild dingoes with nothing more than a squirt gun.”
Don snorted and rolled his eyes.
“You should have heard him bellyache over a little hole in his hand, and there I was with an entire leg missing!”
They laughed again. Chief Blue closed his eyes in pain.
“Please … please,” he begged.
Don reached out and patted Vince on the back. “Jokes aside, my man and I, we held it together.”
“I’m proud to have fought beside you men,” said Mason.
“Same for us, Marshal. I’ve never met anyone with more raw fight in his spirit. That was some hard stuff you did.”
Vince and Chief Blue both nodded their agreement.
Mason thought of the dead he had left behind. Despite the terrible brutality he had inflicted on his enemy, he felt only a sense of relief at seeing his friends alive. War had always been that way.
“Thankfully, that’s behind us now.”
“The battle may be over, but we still have to put this town back together. Any chance we might convince you to stick around?”
Mason stood and shook each man’s hand.
“It’s been an honor, but I have another road to follow.”
The scene at the Church of the Fallen Saints was one of repair and cleanup. More than a dozen people were busy spackling the walls, others were patching the door, and still others were clearing away debris from where the back wall had collapsed.
Mason and Bowie stood out front. The street had been cleared of the dead, but blood was spattered everywhere like the stains of a huge paint-ball fight. Father Paul came out to greet them.
“I wondered when you’d be coming by,” he said with a warm smile.
“The whole town seems to have come out to put your church back together.”
He looked over his shoulder.
“Indeed. It’s more of a landmark now than ever before. A place where few stood against many. Daniel Boone would have been proud.”
“What about the back wall? That’s going to be tough to fix.”
“Steve Price has already started gathering supplies. He assures me that it’s a few days’work, no more.”
“Anything we can do to help?” Mason asked, patting Bowie on the side.
“I think you’ve both done more than your fair share.” Father Paul knelt down and gave the dog a big hug. “You take care of this man, and he’ll take care of you.” Bowie licked the priest’s face and wouldn’t stop until he stood back up.
Wiping his face with a small handkerchief, Father Paul said, “Next time you come this way, please stop in to check on us.”
“I will.”
The two men shook hands and then hugged. Father Paul gave Mason a long look.
“I have a feeling that your work is only beginning. May God go with you on what I’m sure will be a most difficult journey.”
Ava leaned close to Mason, her hand resting on his leg as he steered the truck slowly through the wreckage of Highway 321. Bowie was asleep in the bed of the truck.
“This was a great idea, getting away.”
“We could both use a few days of rest,” he said. “Besides, you’ll enjoy the cabin. It has some amenities you probably haven’t had for a few weeks.”
“Like electricity?”
“Exactly.”
“And hot water?”
“That, too.”
“I love it already.”
“I’m curious about something. What did you say to Rommel in the church?”
She touched her swollen black eye.
“Ah, that.”
“Yeah, that.”
She paused for a moment.
“I was just trying to get them to spare everyone.”
“I know. So?”
“So, in exchange, I offered to take them to the hospital and hand over our medicines.”
“You were willing to trade the town’s medicines for our lives?”
“Not really.”
“But you said—”
“It was a bluff, that’s all. We hid the bulk of the hospital’s medicines more than two weeks ago in case there was a break-in. I was going to lead them to the hospital to give you time to escape, regroup, or whatever it was you needed to do. Things were looking pretty bleak.”
“They’d have killed you for that.”
“No,” she said. “They’d have done worse.”
“Please don’t feel the need to do anything so womanishly stupid in the future.”
She lifted her head in defiance.
“Womanishly stupid? Is that even a real word?”
“If it’s not, it should be,” he said, laughing.
Before she could come up with a suitable retort, he motioned for her to look ahead. A caravan of large vehicles was approaching from the opposite side of the highway. At first, he wondered if it might be Carl Tipton and his group of RVs.
Ava sat up straight, pulling her hands to her lap. Mason unlatched the rack that held his rifle in place.
As the vehicles got closer, they saw that it was a military convoy: four HMMWVs and a large, plated van. The lead HMMWV sped ahead of the others and sw
erved sharply into Mason’s lane. Four soldiers jumped out, wearing battledress uniforms and gas masks, and carrying assault rifles. They quickly set up a defensive position behind their vehicle.
Mason eased his truck to a stop about thirty feet from them and rolled down the windows. He re-latched his rifle rack, and removed his Supergrade from his hip and placed it on the floorboard out of sight. Then, he opened the window to the truck bed and told Bowie to lie down and be quiet.
Two soldiers carefully approached his truck, one going to each side, rifles at the ready. The remaining soldiers maintained their position behind the HMMWV. The rest of the convoy came to a stop about a hundred feet behind the lead vehicle.
A soldier stepped up to the truck window, his rifle pointed directly at Mason’s head.
“Identification,” the man demanded, his voice muffled by the thick rubber mask. He extended a hand covered in a black latex glove. Mason handed over his Marshal’s badge and identification. The soldier glanced at the badge, unimpressed.
“Her too,” he directed.
Ava passed her hospital badge to him. The soldier put their identifications into his front pocket.
“Step from the vehicle.”
“Is this really necessary?” asked Ava. Mason looked at her and shook his head.
Seeing the look in his eyes, she nodded and opened her door. The soldiers pressed them against the hood of the truck and then searched them carefully. When they were satisfied they had no weapons, they motioned for the rest of the convoy to approach.
A second group of soldiers advanced, carrying portable electronic equipment. All the men were wearing gas masks. A man with a gold oak leaf on his hat led the way.
“I’m Major Gacy of the Viral Defense Corps,” he said after inspecting and returning their identifications. “As authorized by Executive Order 16661, you will be tested for the Superpox-99 virus. This will be administered by a certified viral determination specialist. Do you have any questions about the test that is about to be conducted?”
“You’ve developed a portable test to determine if a person has the virus?” asked Ava.
“Yes. It requires only a quick sampling of your blood. A simple finger prick.”
“And if we refuse to be tested?” asked Mason.
“We will exercise our authority to forcibly test you.”
“I suspected as much.”
“Will you consent to be voluntarily tested, or are other measures necessary?”
“Given our choices,” Ava said, not hiding the disdain in her voice, “of course we’ll consent.”
Major Gacy motioned for one of the medical specialists to approach. He carefully took Mason’s hand and inserted his right index finger into a small disposable box. Once his finger was inside, the soldier clicked a small switch at one end, and a spring-activated needle lanced Mason’s fingertip. The specialist handed the blood box to another man beside him who inserted it into the chamber of an electronic gadget about the size of a Polaroid camera. After about ten seconds, a green light showed on the unit’s display.
“Clear,” he said, removing the sample from the unit.
He then moved over to Ava and repeated the process. When the needle pricked her finger, she winced slightly but said nothing. The soldier passed the blood box back to his partner who once again inserted it in the pathogen-testing device. After a slight delay, the light on the unit again turned green.
“Clear.” Major Gacy motioned for everyone to lower their weapons and remove their masks.
“It should have been obvious that we don’t have the virus. We don’t have any of the symptoms.” Ava pulled up her sleeves. “No blisters on the skin; no hemorrhaging of the eyes; no fever.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the major, “but we’re also ensuring that you aren’t simply a survivor of the virus.”
“Have you seen the survivors? You’d have to be blind not to be able to tell a survivor from someone who hasn’t been exposed or is simply immune.”
“It’s my job to be sure, ma’am.” The major turned to leave.
“Why would it have mattered anyway?”
He stopped and turned back.
“Excuse me?”
“Why would it have mattered if we were survivors? They aren’t contagious anymore.”
“That’s correct.”
“So, why even test them?”
“Since you specifically asked,” said Major Gacy, “I’m required to inform you that some of the survivors of Superpox-99 have been shown to experience violent paranoia. We are, therefore, advising people who have not been infected to stay clear of them.”
Ava tried to recall her encounters with those who had been infected.
“I guess I could believe they act a bit paranoid, but they didn’t seem more violent than anyone else.”
“Not yet perhaps, but my superiors report that many of those infected will eventually become quite dangerous.”
“Major, what exactly is your mission?” asked Mason.
Major Gacy stood up straight.
“As part of the VDC, my mission is to help ensure the recovery of our nation from the worst pandemic in history.”
“And how exactly are you doing that?”
“Under Executive Order 16661, I have been instructed to euthanize any and all who have been infected with the virus.”
Ava and Mason stood dumbfounded.
“My God, you’re killing the survivors?”
“We have strict rules—”
“You’re murdering innocent people,” she said, suddenly short of breath. “Our government is killing its own citizens.”
“We’re following orders,” he said flatly.
“Men have hidden behind those words before,” said Mason. “It doesn’t usually end well for them.”
Major Gacy’s lips tightened, but he said nothing. Instead, he turned and motioned for the soldiers to return to their vehicles. Within seconds, they were loaded and moving down the highway toward the town of Boone.
Mason and Ava watched as the armored convoy maneuvered through the wreckage of cars until it eventually disappeared from view. Tears filled her eyes as she reached out and held onto his arm.
“I don’t belong in this world.”
He smiled and shook his head.
“You’re wrong, Ava. This new world isn’t for men like Major Gacy or me. We are but a means to an end. Eventually, a time will come when people like you and Father Paul will help to right this nation.”
“And until then?”
He pulled her close and stroked her beautiful black hair.
“Until then, we must fight and we must love with every bit of passion left in our souls.”
“I don’t know if I can do that.”
“You’ve already proven that you can.”
“Tell me that things will get better.”
“They will.”
“But they’ll never go back to normal, will they?”
“Not in our lifetimes, no.”
“I’m afraid.”
He kissed her on the forehead.
“Then lean against me and know that I’ll keep you safe.”
She laid her head against his chest, comforted by the slow steady beat of his heart. Perhaps the old world had ended, but a new one was just beginning.
The Survivalist adventure continues with Anarchy Rising…
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