Storm Surge, page 31
part #1 of Storm Surge Series
27
Causalities
Maxine’s heart raced.
Strangers shouted orders in every direction.
Bullets cut through the air, reminding Maxine of the frailty of her human condition.
A scream sounded behind her.
Back in the ruined building, Roger squeezed his arm. Blood rolled through the gaps on his fingers.
“Roy! Get back here, man!” Abel shouted.
For the first time in his frenzy, Roy glanced back to his team. His jaw fell open. He quickly turned his attention to the men attempting to flank him. He fired two slugs their way, but both shots missed. The swarming crowd used whatever they could find for cover. Maxine shot at them. Her bullets busted car windows and lodged in telephone poles.
Bound wrist and ankle, Sarah turned her red eyes to Roy. Tears streamed down the fourteen-year-old’s face. “Dad? Mom?”
Her words were lost in the gunfire.
A bullet hit the taillight next to Maxine, blasting amber shrapnel into her face. She recoiled, feeling a hot burst of pain across her right cheek. She cried out, keeping one eye closed. Small shards stuck into the side of her face. Droplets of blood blossomed across her skin.
Horror overtook Roy’s expression. His fighting spirit started to fade.
Only thirty feet of grass separated them from the pound’s window.
Maxine grimaced. “We have to run.”
One of the men flanking them took aim at Roy.
Maxine and Roy shot him at the same time.
His body flopped back into the wet concrete.
Abel hustled Roger away from their view.
Roy turned to Sarah. The two locked eyes.
Maxine grabbed Roy’s arm and pulled him out of cover. Keeping a hand on him, Maxine ran from the pound. They shot at their enemies but took no time to aim. They rushed into an alleyway and zigzagged between buildings. Maxine sprinted so fast that splintering pain shot through her legs. It felt like she was running on spikes. Roy kept her pace. He constantly looked over his shoulder.
Go back. A voice nagged Maxine. Sarah is right there. She saw you. She needs you. Maxine’s stomach twisted. She focused on running.
The rain ceased by the time they reach the town’s edge. Drenching and breathing heavily, Maxine rested her shoulder against a light post. She felt splinters in her lungs.
Roy coughed and spit. He winced.
The run took a heavy toll on him.
He spoke with a dry voice. “We had her, Max.”
“Are you nuts?” Maxine asked.
Roy asked. “Why did you pull me away?”
“I swear. I’m not going to fight you on this,” Maxine said.
“She’s our daughter. It's our duty to keep her safe,” Roy bickered.
Maxine glared at him. “What would you know about it? You’ve been locked up for seven years.”
“Like that was my choice,” Roy barked.
“You murdered a man and left me to raise them alone. You know how hard that has been? Everything that I do revolves around those children, and before you say that it’s my fault they are gone, let me remind you that I’m not a superhero. I’ve done things you wouldn’t imagine to protect them, and if you stuck with the original plan, we’d be this much closer to having Sarah back. Half of your friends are dead, and God knows what Granger will do now.”
Roy looked down at his feet.
Maxine picked a piece of amber plastic from her pretty face and flicked it away. Without another word, she started down the road back home.
Roy lagged behind. Seeing that they weren’t being followed, they weren’t in a particular rush to get back.
Maxine’s hands trembled. She balled them, but that didn’t help. Like a poison, guilt seeped into her mind. She blinked. She saw the people she’d just shot in the back of her eyelids. Defending Jacob’s home was one thing. It was justifiable self-defense. Going on the offensive made the idea of taking another human’s life real to her. She tried her to occupy her mind with other thoughts, but what else was there aside from survival and preservation of her family? If Jacob were here, he wouldn’t care about the lives he took. He might even see the battle as something commendable. Maxine wasn’t that strong. She sniffled and scratched her cheek. Another piece of amber plastic broke from her skin.
Abel appeared out from behind a disabled car, aiming at them. He lowered his weapon.
Roy refused to make eye contact.
Abel glared.
Roger stepped out, holding a hand over his upper left arm. Blood oozed from between his fingers. There was a small crack on his glasses’ left frame. His eyes revealed his pain. Pretty Boy stood from an opposite ditch. He kept his gun at his side. His nostrils flared.
Roy moved by them without looking their way
“Hey,” Pretty Boy called out.
Roy kept walking.
“Hey!” Pretty Boy ran up behind him.
Roy twisted back and opened his mouth to speak.
Pretty Boy’s fist slammed into Roy’s jaw.
Roy stumbled back. His heel caught on a piece of scrap metal, and he fell on his rear.
Pretty Boy stood over him. “I oughta kill you.”
He aimed his pistol at a slightly cocked angle. His finger lingered over the trigger. “You were supposed to be different, man. When we got off that bus, you said that this was our chance for redemption. Pikeman, Lance, Carl and, hell, even that silent freak Jessup is dead because of you.”
Roy replied, “What can I do? I can’t go back and change it now, can I?”
“You screwed up,” Pretty Boy replied.
“I know,” Roy conceded.
Abel and Roger watched, waiting to see if Pretty Boy would pull the trigger.
Maxine took a step forward. Abel blocked her with an arm.
Maxine glared at him.
“Let them work this out,” Abel said.
Pretty Boy changed his gun-holding hand and wiped his sweaty palm on his pants. He took aim again.
Roy was silent.
Unable to pull the trigger, Pretty Boy cursed. He lowered the gun, shoved it into the back of his pants, and walked on, mumbling curses to himself.
Abel extended a hand to Roy.
Roy took it shamefully. Abel pulled him up in a single motion. “God have mercy on your soul, Roy.”
Helping Roger along, Abel walked ahead.
Roy didn’t bother wiping the blood from his busted lip.
Maxine looked at him for a moment before walking with the others.
A moment later, Roy followed behind.
They reached the swamp’s edge.
Sailing back was quiet and sober. The rain had killed the remaining fires. Soot swirled on the black waters. No birds sang. No turtles baked in the sun. The place was dead.
They pulled the rafts ashore outside of Jacob’s house. Jacob opened the repaired front door. He eyed them with concern, quickly noticing half of them were missing.
Abel told him. “We need to get Roger downstairs.”
Jacob stepped aside, allowing him to pass.
Pretty Boy walked by him. “Tell me you got booze down in the bunker.”
“Third to the last shelf. Back corner.”
Pretty Boy entered.
Jacob shouted, “Drink it all, and I’ll feed you to the gators.”
Maxine and Roy walked inside with their heads hung low.
Jacob asked. “Are the other four dead or captive?”
Roy set his jaw.
“Dead,” Maxine replied.
Jacob nodded objectively. “I’ll readjust the rationing list.”
Maxine retreated into the bunker. She sent Lily out of the infirmary and checked Roger’s arm. He winced as Maxine prodded the wound.
Roger took a swig of liquor.
“You a doctor or something?” He winced. “Ow.”
“Veterinarian. I was a paramedic a lifetime ago,” Maxine replied. She grabbed the necessary pincers to remove the bullet.
Roger said, “You still got some stuff in your cheek.”
Half of Maxine’s face was numb. “I’m aware.”
She put the pincers into Roger’s wound and yanked out the bullet. He screamed like a girl. When she’d finished cleaning, stitching, and patching the wound, she sent him out of the infirmary and invited Lily back inside. Her face was pale and lifeless.
As she lay down, Lily said, “You look like you could use some sleep.”
Maxine was wet, tired and ready to throw in the toil. She decided to push herself. “How are you feeling?”
“Nervous. Francis feels the same way.”
“Once that baby starts coming, it's going to be a long couple of hours,” Maxine said objectively.
“Which is why my doctor should be resting,” Lily answered.
Maxine didn’t look for any reason to protest. She left Lily in the infirmary and headed to the bedroom. It crossed her mind to take a shower but didn’t have the patience to wait for the water to heat up. She headed into the room and stripped off her wet clothes. She glanced in a mirror and picked the rest of the plastic from her swelling right cheek before putting on dry clothes and crashing on the bed.
She didn’t remember her dream, but she awoke with a gasp. Cold sweat doused her body. Like always, the bunker was pitch back. She reached around, feeling her nightstand until her hand found the lantern and lighter. She ignited the little wick, giving her some light. Francis slept in his bed. The rest of the beds in the octagonal room were unoccupied. Maxine swiveled her legs out of bed. Her feet touched the cool concrete. She headed out into the hall and then up the ladder.
Much to her surprise, she found Jacob, Abel, Alberto, Roger, and Mickie sitting around the dining room table. A few candles provided dim light. They gambled large stacks of cash. Jacob was the first to notice Maxine.
He invited her over. She pulled up a chair and yawned.
“Texas Hold’ Em,” Mickie said. “Interested?”
Maxine shook her head.
Mickie dealt past her.
Roger said, “We’re just talking about war plans, as one does.”
Jacob elaborated. “Scouting teams, more specifically. Attacking Homestead will have consequences. Since you retreated, they know we’re weak. Putting up guards around the house isn’t going to be enough. We need people positioned throughout the swamp to keep tabs on any intruders.”
“I’ll go,” Alberto said. He was a stoic Native American who carried a sort of silent authority about it him.
Jacob said, “That’s one position filled. I’ll take over another. Roy and Mickie will stay back at the house.”
“Fine by me.” Mickie grinned at Maxine.
She smiled back weakly.
Jacob said to Maxine. “You’ll be our full-time medic.”
“Lucky me,” she replied.
Jacob said, “Because of your important role in the coming battles, I’m no longer allowing you to leave the island.”
“Excuse me?” Maxine asked with attitude.
“This is non-negotiable,” Jacob said.
“So I just forget about Sarah and Ike then?” Maxine replied, growing angry.
Jacob replied. “We can’t afford to take any more unnecessary risks. Your survival guarantees that the rest of us have a fighting chance.”
The next two days drifted by. The remaining convicts bickered as they finished fortifying the house, practically everyone shunned Roy, and Jacob reported that Granger’s forces had gathered at the swamp’s edge.
“They’re building tents and a fire pit,” Jacob told everyone during one of their group meetings. “They’re probably waiting for the water levels to drop a little farther. In the meantime, I imagine they’ll launch a few skirmishes to keep us on our toes. We need to be smart.”
“We should seal the bunker,” Francis said.
Jacob replied, “The blast damage is irreversible. The best we could do is cover it with some wood, but we still need to get in and out. Our only hope is to keep the attackers at bay.”
As more time went on, Maxine kept close to Lily. Despite her constant headaches and stomach pains, Lily refused to break her vegan diet. Francis grew weary looking after her. The everyday moments weren’t very challenging, but once the infant was born, there would be a whole slew of other problems. Maxine noticed other potential issues on the rise. Pretty Boy had become an expert at dodging responsibilities. Jacob kept him on swamp patrol frequently, and Pretty Boy hated it. Mickie loved staring at Maxine. She didn’t have the heart to tell the old man to mind his own business, but she made sure to never be in a room alone with him. Alberto was a useful wildcard. He rarely talked and would come back with bundles of dead rodents to cook for himself. There was an invisible divide between Roy and everyone else, especially Jacob. He never forgave him for bringing criminals into his house, and Roy never asked for forgiveness. Abel became the leader of the convicts. He’d discuss things with them privately when Roy wasn’t around. Maxine tried to eavesdrop once. Abel politely ended the conversation with the convicts and asked Maxine what she needed. Maxine made up some lie and walked on.
Their assigned roles were the only thing that kept them from each other’s throats. Scouts moved through the swamp alone, preventing them from gossiping with each other. The house guards each occupied a different floor, i.e., Mickie was upstairs, and Roger was downstairs, meaning they had little communication. Francis was charged with cleaning up the bodies. Out of everyone on Jacob’s island, Maxine believed he was the most miserable. He burned the corpses three at the time. Maxine stayed in the bunker, organizing supplies, tending to minor wounds, and comforting Lily.
It was the middle of one morning when Maxine heard their hasty footsteps through the ceiling. She told Lily to wait on the couch while she investigated. Lily chuckled. “Like I could climb that ladder anyway.”
Maxine hurried to the first floor.
Roy and Jacob stood over the opened weapons bag in the middle of the living room. Jacob handed Roy a box of rifle ammo. “Keep the whole box on you.”
Roy put it in his backpack.
“What’s going on?” Maxine asked.
Jacob clipped a pistol to his belt. “A few of Granger’s men are advancing.”
Roy added, “We spotted three groups of them that had snuck into the woods last night.”
“They’re attempting to flank us,” Jacob said. “We’re going to intercept them before they get close. Pretty Boy and Alberto are keeping eyes on their camp. We suspect that when a firefight breaks out on the eastern and western sides, they’ll want to join into the fray.”
Roy said. “We’re bringing Mickie with us. Roger, you and Francis will be in charge of keeping the house safe while we’re out.”
“What are the chances of them reaching the island?” Maxine asked.
Jacob replied. “If any of their groups make it past us, they’ll head straight here. Stay diligent.”
Roger stepped into the room, his arm resting in a sling.
Jacob asked, “Did you hear what we just said?”
“Loud and clear,” Roger replied.
Roy gave him a 9mm pistol. “You can aim with one hand, right?”
Roger replied, “Yeah. I do it every time I take a leak.”
He took the gun and slipped it into his belt.
Roy said, “Go get Mickie.”
Roger stormed upstairs.
Fully loaded and strapped with a few extra firearms, Jacob and Roy prepared to set out. They brought Mickie with them. Maxine stood with Roger as she watched three men get back in their rafts and start down the swamp.
Roger said, “Roy never told us about the problems you had with the neighbors.”
“It wasn’t always like this,” Maxine replied.
“If we invested as much time into fighting as we did in finding a way to transport these supplies, I’m sure we could find a much larger and safer place,” Roger said, “There are mansions all up and down the Florida coast that are ripe for the picking. Most of their owners left the state before the hurricane.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Maxine replied. “But right now we have to look after the family.”
“Your family,” Roger reminded her. “The rest of us are just trying to survive. If we were thinking logically, the needs of many would outweighed the needs of the few.”
“Careful now, Roger,” Maxine warned. “A person might get the wrong idea with those words.”
“I’m just making an observation,” Roger replied with a cocky smile. “I could never bring myself to hurt a beautiful woman like yourself.”
“Isn’t there some hidden rule that says you can’t hit on your friend’s ex?” Maxine asked rhetorically.
“Once again, I was just making an observation,” Roger replied.
Francis rushed into the room. Sweat dampened his forehead. There was worry in his wide eyes. “Lily’s water broke.”
Leaving Roger to his own devices, Maxine rushed down into the bunker.
Francis followed behind. “She’s already in the infirmary. What do we need to do?”
“All you need to do is listen to me,” Maxine said, hurrying through the bunker.
“Have you ever done this before?” Francis asked.
“I watched a few training videos in college and have been on the receiving side. I think I have a pretty good understanding,” Maxine turned down the hallway.
“You think?” Francis replied, worry spiking his voice.
Maxine pushed into the infirmary. Lily was on the bed with her pants removed.
“How are you feeling?” Maxine asked, quickly grabbing disposable gloves from the box on the nearby shelf.
“It hurts,” Lily said.
“It’ll get worse,” Maxine said.
“So much for bedside manner,” Lily winced.
“Realities not always polite. Neither is childbirth. Let me take a look.” Maxine spread Lily’s legs.
Francis lingered behind her, his eyes wide with fear.
Maxine asked him to get some equipment out of the cabinet.
