Pestilence

52

Samantha felt broken. Her hip was twisted, and her knee burned. She tried to lift herself, but the pain in her legs and hip was too much. She managed to roll onto her back. Next to her, the stranger was unconscious.

She rolled to the other side, and a pain unlike anything she had ever felt before pierced her ribs. It took her breath away, and she groaned as she forced herself up. Limping, she made her way to the hospital entrance.

She went to the all-night pharmacy and walked behind the counter. A young pharmacist with glasses and acne was the only employee, left to fill prescriptions and work the register. He yelled at her, threatening to call the police.

“Go ahead,” she rasped.

Going through the shelves, she found some Percocet and took two of them without water. The young pharmacist stared at her in disbelief.

Sam hobbled out and took the elevators to the third floor. She went to Jane’s room, where Duncan was lying on the floor, limp, his eyes open to the ceiling. The guards weren’t there, and she wondered what had happened to them and if the man had killed them, too.

She bent down, weeping softly, and felt for a pulse. She couldn’t feel one.

She closed his eyes and kissed his lips, which were already cold. She rose and looked at her sister. Lifting the canopy, she pulled at the bed. Her hips and ribs were in agony, but she didn’t stop-not until she had pushed the hospital bed away from the wall. Then she got behind it and pushed it out of the room.

Slowly, with pain pulsating at her with every step, she took the elevators to the top floor and wheeled her sister into the room with the old woman at the end of the hall. She closed the door behind her, then hobbled downstairs. Outside, where she had been lying a few minutes ago, the stranger was gone.

Staggering through the parking lot, she went up the street to wait at an intersection for the light to turn. Her knee felt torn to pieces, and she couldn’t put hardly any weight to it. Crossing the street, she noticed several choppers above her and that few cars filled the street.

Samantha stepped out into the road and waited for the first car to come by.

Howie drove through town, constantly checking his daughter, who was staring absently at the passing city. He thought a long time about what to say to her, about how to describe what that man was trying to do and why. But no explanation he could give would be adequate. When they could get away with it, all men were capable of evil.

“Are you thirsty?”

“No,” she whispered.

Howie kept his eyes on her for a long time. She resembled her mother more and more, and it made him miss her. It made him regret his arrogance and stupidity for thinking he could ignore her, cheat on her, and still have her stick around.

When he turned his eyes back to the road, he had to slam on the brakes and swerve. The Humvee’s tires squealed as it skidded to the curb and the front tires ran up onto the sidewalk.

He turned to peer out the rear window. The woman who had been standing in the road was limping toward them. She was injured, and a cut on her head was bleeding.

“Please,” she said. “I need help. I’m not infected.”

He hesitated a few seconds and was about to put it in drive, but Jessica gave him a look. She was watching intently what he was about to do. The fact was, he didn’t know how much longer he was going to be around. What memories of himself he left her with was suddenly very important to him.

Howie stepped out of the Humvee and helped the woman in before shutting the door and pulling away. As he drove past a hospital, Howie saw a man in a disheveled suit standing in the parking lot, searching for something. They exchanged glances before Howie turned his attention back to the road.

“What happened to you?” he asked.

“You have to get me to a medical facility,” she rasped.

“There was a hospital back there.”

“No.” She shook her head gently as her eyes closed and then opened. “There’s a military facility.”

“Lady, we are not going anywhere near a medical facility. But I’d be happy to drop you off somewhere if you need.”

“I have to get help and come back. My sister needs my help still.”

As he turned to get on the interstate, Howie saw, to his horror, that a roadblock had been set up. He was about to do a U-turn, hoping they didn’t push it, when one of the guardsmen stepped forward and held up his hand, indicating for the Humvee to stop.

Howie reached for the rifle that he had placed in the backseat.

“No,” the woman said. “Let me talk.”

The guardsman came to the window and peered in. He was turning away to shout to his fellow soldiers when the woman spoke up. “My name is Dr. Samantha Bower. I’m here at the request of General Clyde Olsen. I need his assistance. Please call him for me.”

The guardsman was silent and then spoke into a device on his shoulder. “Get Lieutenant General Olsen on the horn, Kelly.”