Path of Totality, page 7
Two of the soldiers moved next to me. They gently pulled me to my feet. “We’ve got you. Can you walk?”
They half-helped, half-carried me through the blockade. They got me to the med bay, a large white building pod. I tried to take note of every detail. The entry led into a large room with medical equipment and about twenty cots. A few other doors led to what I assumed were restrooms and an office.
The soldiers eased me onto one of the cots. I cringed. Who else would end up in here? Or in a building just like this one. Sisko? Asher? Garrett? I wanted to curl up and cry again, but I couldn’t. The medic, a red-haired man around Dad’s age, approached. “I’m Staff Sergeant Augustine.” He smiled.
I muttered a response, but he didn’t correct my lack of protocol, probably used to the injured not caring about rank.
He took my rifle and backpack, set them under the cot, and scanned my implant to confirm my identity. Crap. I’d forgotten about that. Now they had on record what direction I went. Couldn’t do anything about it now. Just had to focus on ditching this medic and getting out of here.
“What happened to you? I see a lot of blood on your uniform, but you don’t seem too injured.” His voice soft and gentle.
I flinched. “It’s . . . not mine.”
“I’m sorry.” He opened the front of my jacket. “Let’s check you over, just in case.”
With a pair of scissors, he cut through my T-shirt. Great. How would I get out of here without a shirt?
He used tweezers to remove a few slivers of glass I’d missed and bandaged my hands. His attention went to the wrist with my PCD on it. “What happened here?”
“I got spiked.” I closed my eyes to block the memory. It didn’t work.
“Looks like you were able to use some burn cream, at least.”
I nodded.
He gently removed my PCD and applied a salve. “It’s healed enough for you to wear a new PCD. I’ll get you one after we’re finished.”
After my exam, Sergeant Augustine declared me fit, but exhausted. I could have told him that.
He gave me a pair of gray pants, a gray sweatshirt, and new PCD. “It’s already activated and coded to your implant.”
“Thank you.” I took the PCD and snapped it on my wrist, trying to cover my shaking hands. The band vibrated as it aligned itself to my bioenergy.
He left me to sleep. I wanted nothing more than to sink into the gel mattress of the cot and sleep for a week, but I forced myself to stay awake. I almost dozed off a dozen times, mesmerized by the silent medics weaving between cots. I bit my lip to keep myself awake.
A medic brought me a tray of food and some water pods. I forced the food down. Memories of all of us sitting around at breakfast before we left on the mission assaulted me. Sisko had teased me about shooting Realy in training. Brent had assured me there would be something to hack. Maybe I could even defuse another bomb. Except this time I hadn’t. This time, the bomb that exploded wasn’t physical. If my hacking skills were better, I’d have been able to prevent all of this. I gagged and set the tray on the small table beside my cot.
As the day wore on, injured soldiers filled the remaining cots. No one I knew. I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Sisko, Garrett, Asher and everyone else could be safely back at base, not in need of medical care. Or they might be dead.
My dad, uncle, and Brent ran through my thoughts over and over. Parties, dinners, holidays. Memory after memory played in my head. Who knew I had more tears?
Darkness fell. Sergeant Augustine approached my cot. “I informed your commanding officers you’re here. They asked me to send you back. I told them I want you to rest here for the night. You need it.” He patted my shoulder. “Try to get some sleep. I’m going off duty now. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Thanks.” I forced a half-smile. He returned it and walked away. He pushed through one of the side doors and flipped on a light in what must be a little office.
Sleep. Right. My body tensed.
Shift change. The small amount of medic training I’d had in Basic came back to me. The medics leaving shift would go over charts and discuss patients with arriving staff.
I figured I had about thirty minutes. I swung my legs over the edge of the cot. Time to move.
CHAPTER 17
JADZIA
I grabbed my bag and rifle from the shelf under the bed. My regular uniform would have been better than these sweats, but they were warmer than my uniform, which would be handy later.
A few of the other injured soldiers looked up at me, but no one said anything. The rest either slept or were too drugged to notice.
The door to the room Sergeant Augustine had disappeared into stood open. I needed to pass that doorway to reach the exit—or the restroom. Hopefully, anyone who saw me would assume the latter. Heading for the med bay restroom with a bag and rifle seemed totally normal. Right? I rolled my eyes. Sure.
I shifted the rifle to hold it upright against the left side of my body, away from the door. Because this looked totally not suspicious. I took a deep breath and hurried past.
“Mills, do you need something?” Sergeant Augustine’s voice chased me.
I swore under my breath. “Just going to the bathroom.” I hoped he didn’t come out of the office.
“Okay. Just checking.”
I didn’t hesitate. I stepped through the exit and slipped into the night.
The night air cooled my hot skin. I slipped around the side of the med building and crossed a path through the rubble. Sticking close to the different piles, I made my way to the northern edge of the blockade. Since the Zealots were encamped toward the south, this side of the blockade wasn’t as heavily guarded.
When I reached the perimeter, a few soldiers—probably supposed to be patrolling the area—played games on their PCDs. In the dark, I avoided them enough and crossed the line into open territory.
I sighed and relaxed. The perimeter alarm went off. I swore and bolted into the dark. Behind me, soldiers shouted.
I hid behind a car that looked like it had seen better days. Through the back windows of the car, I watched the sleepy encampment came alive. Flood lights came on. Soldiers swarmed. But everyone focused in, not out.
Of course. They assumed Zealots had broken into the camp on a raid for supplies or to attack. No one assumed someone sneaking out of camp would trip the alarm. Why would they?
Still, I didn’t linger. Someone might realize they were missing a patient and figure I’d tripped the alarm.
Buildings stood like quiet sentries over empty streets, not at all like Manhattan should be. I kept looking over my shoulder. Every noise made me jump. For about an hour, I wandered north. I needed to find a safe place to crash, but first I needed to make my implant untraceable. I collapsed in the alcove of a convenience store.
Hacking would have been much easier with my old PCD because of the programs I had created on it, but I needed to work with what I had. I broke open one of my water pods and drank while I worked. My eyes were dry. So tired. I shook myself. I had to keep at it.
Finally, I found the code I was looking for. Thank you Sergeant Wallace’s advance tech classes. After a few more tweaks, I turned the locator off. I sighed, got to my feet, and stretched.
I needed to find somewhere to sleep. I walked another seven blocks to put distance between me and the spot my implant placed me last.
When I tripped over my own foot, I knew I’d reached my end. I climbed through the nearest broken window. Using the flashlight feature of my PCD, I scanned the smallish boutique clothing store. New clothes would have been great, but looters beat me to it.
This place gave me the creeps. It should be full of clothes and shoes. Instead, racks were overturned, cases broken open, and glass littered the floor. Everything of value was gone.
I jumped. A silhouette leaned against a door. My light shone over it. Just a mannequin. My shoulders sagged. I craved sleep. But first, I had to make sure I was alone.
I walked the perimeter of the store looking for . . . I don’t know what exactly. A place to lie down, a chair, a scrap of cloth I could use as a blanket. Anything. Instead, I found a door. I pressed my ear against it to see if I could hear anything. Nothing but my pounding heart. Slowly, with my rifle aimed, I opened the door.
No movement. Just a counter with a coffeepot on it, a fridge, a table, three chairs, and a small couch. This must have been the employee break room. I thanked—well, I didn’t know who—but it seemed the right thing to do. The couch would be tight, but I’d much rather sleep there than on the floor.
I pulled the plastic tablecloth from the table, doubled it, sat on the couch, and spread the cloth over my upper half. Better than nothing. I put one arm through the strap of my pack and one arm through the strap of my gun. Both rested on my chest. That way, if I had to move quickly, at least they were attached to me.
I set an alarm on my PCD for six hours. Not as much sleep as I wanted. But hopefully enough. I had a long day ahead of me tomorrow. I lay with my eyes open, staring into the blackness. Despite my exhaustion, my mind wouldn’t shut down. I couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened. A strange numbness washed over me. Exhaustion settled in and darkness took me.
CHAPTER 18
JADZIA
I jolted awake and sprang off the couch. Another crash resonated from the front of the store. I slung my pack on my back and raised my rifle. Creeping through the dark room, I tried not to bump the table. I found the door, still slightly open, and hovered behind it. Peering into the darkness, my heart raced. A scuffling noise came from the left. I took a deep breath.
Calm down. Probably someone looking for food. In a clothing store. In the dark. Sure. Maybe if I stayed quiet, they’d go away.
No such luck. The scuffling came closer to the door. I took a deep breath. At least I’d have the element of surprise. When the noise moved as close as I could stand it, I flung the door all the way open with my gun raised in one hand. I opened my other hand, so the flashlight came on, and aimed it toward the noise. A yellow dog let out a surprised yelp. Air escaped my lungs.
I crouched. “Come here, pup.” I made clicking noises and held my hand out. The dog stepped toward me. I buried my fingers in fur. “All that fuss for you.”
Then I heard it. Footsteps crunching on glass. I froze. Flashlight on, talking to a dog. My position was obvious and everything but defensible.
Move. I whipped up and faced the footsteps. My flashlight illuminated a twenty-something, muscular guy twice my size. I raised my gun and aimed. At least he didn’t know I couldn’t shoot to save my life. Which is exactly what I might need to do.
“What are you doing here? What do you want?” I tried to sound tough, but my voice cracked.
“I followed the dog. I want food.” His voice sounded rough, like he’d swallowed sandpaper. He took a step toward me. The dog cowered behind my legs. Food. He couldn’t mean the dog, could he? Surely we weren’t at that point yet.
“I don’t have any.”
“What’s in the pack?” He took another few steps. A knife in his left hand flashed in the beam of my light.
Crap. I really didn’t want to give up my pack. I carried everything I owned in it. “Don’t come any closer.” I backed away, nudging the dog as I went. We hit the wall.
He smirked and took another few steps. Any closer and he could grab me. I threw my pack at him. “Now go away.”
He caught my bag and set it on the floor. He looked around. “You know, I kinda like it here. The company is real good.” His eyes swept up and down my body.
My skin crawled. I could see his eyes clearly now. Red pupils wide, wild. He had to be on something. My voice shook. “I’ll shoot.”
He laughed, a rasping sound that sent a chill through me. “I don’t think you will.”
I hedged to the left. Maybe I could get around him and make a run for it. He didn’t seem to be in any shape to catch me. The dog moved with me. So did the man. Crap.
The dog poked its head out from behind my legs and growled softly.
The man laughed again. “What’re you going do, mutt?” He stomped and lunged toward us.
I jumped.
The dog whimpered and cowered.
He scoffed. “That’s what I thought.”
“We’re going to be okay.” I said it as much to the dog as to myself.
I moved my finger to the trigger. “Last chance.”
He lunged forward and grabbed at the rifle. I tightened my grip. His knife came up and slashed at my arm. I cried out but didn’t let go of the gun. I kicked him as hard as I could, but he didn’t seem to notice. He leaned in. Rank breath washed over me. I pulled the trigger.
His body jerked and his eyes widened. He slumped into me. I couldn’t take his weight and fell against the wall. I got out from under him and left him in a heap.
My head reeled. I’d forgotten. I still had my kill cartridge in my rifle from the battle. Not a stun cartridge.
I’d just killed someone.
My stomach roiled. I turned away from him. Grabbed my pack and ran. I ran until my legs gave out and I fell to my knees, chest heaving. I couldn’t go any further.
I’d killed someone. Sure, he attacked me. But. I. Had. Killed. Someone. What if there was another way? I’d became a fugitive from the army so I wouldn’t have to kill anyone, only to end up doing it anyway. I started to laugh. Giant bursts of laughter I couldn’t control poured out of me. Tears streamed down my face. Wave after wave of hysteria bubbled up until I couldn’t tell if I was laughing or sobbing.
The feel of his hands pulling on the gun. The smell of his breath. The weight of his body slumping against me. His blood on my clothes. For the second time in two days, my clothes were stained with someone else’s blood. Brent’s blood. This guy’s blood. Brent dying in my arms. This guy dying in my arms. One I desperately wanted to save, one whose life I took. I jammed my fingers into my hair and screamed into the breaking dawn.
A whine broke through my haze of emotion. Something licked my arms, my hands, my face. The dog had followed me. I threw my arms around it and cried. I ran my fingers through its warm fur.
Eventually, the tide ebbed. Numbness set in. I couldn’t stay here. Focus on the goal.
I needed to get off the island. Get home to Mom and Jonathan. Get somewhere safe. I wiped my eyes and nose on my sleeve. I forced myself to think about my first step. Find an unguarded bridge. Unlikely. Figure out a way past the guards. Figure out a way home after that. Ugh. How on earth could I do this?
I needed a cross street to figure out where I was. “Come on, girl.”
She gave a snuff and bounded to my side. A small smile cracked my lips. “At least I have you.”
Together, we walked down the war-torn street, away from the rising sun.
CHAPTER 19
JADZIA
My best chance to get away from this hellhole would be the George Washington Bridge. Being closest, and in the opposite direction of my unit, it made sense. A better swimmer would have tried to cover the distance by water, but I’d likely drown before I got to shore. The dog seemed happy to stick with me. At least I wasn’t totally alone.
What would my commanders think? Surely their minds wouldn’t jump straight to me running away. Maybe that they’d think Zealots kidnapped me. But why kidnap just me and no one else? I shook my head. It didn’t really matter, but it kept my mind off . . . other things.
When we reached the intersection of Broadway and 168th Street, I realized I’d covered more ground than I thought. Good. The bridge stood a few blocks away. I made my way closer, moving from abandoned car to abandoned car until I could see the guards. I waited and watched.
Relief washed through me. The bridge didn’t belong to the military, at least on this side. A bunch of heavily armed Zealots guarded the bridge. They’d used a group of cars as a makeshift barrier, and five of them lounged on the hoods of the cars. They also had a few Hover-bikes and trucks nearby.
I snapped a few pictures with my PCD and retreated to a safer location to study them. About three blocks away, I found a dumpster in an alley. I sat on the pavement and groaned.
My stomach rumbled, and I opened my pack. I hadn’t eaten since the med bay tried to give me dinner.
Six energy bars and ten water pods, plus the small med kit that had failed to save Brent’s life. I quickly stuffed the kit back into the bag. I didn’t have time to go there right now.
I looked at the dog. “It’s not much food.”
I ripped open an energy bar and chewed. While I ate, I fished through the rest of the contents of my bag. Three more kill cartridges for my rifle and three stun cartridges. I switched my rifle cartridge to a stun cartridge. I’d never use a kill cartridge again, but I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of them. I replaced everything but a water pod.
I ate almost the entire energy bar, then threw the last bite to the dog. She caught it in midair. I patted her on the head. “Nice catch.”
Biting into the water pod, I opened my PCD and looked at the pictures of the bridge and guards. Expressions ranged from frustration to bored out of their minds. Of course. Instead of fighting, they were stuck here on bridge duty. Images of the battle pushed their way past my mental block. No. I forced them aside. Focus. I’d fall apart again later.
Maybe I could just walk up to the Zealots. Pretend I belonged to them. They might let me through. But why would I be leaving? If I could get on a bike, I could escape faster. But how to get a bike?
I rubbed the dog between her ears. “We need a diversion, girl. What do you think? Any ideas?” Less than twenty-four hours since I last talked to someone, I was asking a dog for advice. Maybe I had lost it. At least she didn’t answer.
