“Chopper’s coming in,” the soldier said only a moment before Emily heard the blades.
A black helicopter landed in the small pasture behind where the barn had once stood. Men piled out with a stretcher and ran over to them. They made short work of loading Sam on it and running back toward the waiting chopper. Emily followed behind the doctor and jumped on board, claiming a seat and strapping in automatically. Before she knew it, they were airborne.
She didn’t know how long they were in the air or even what direction they were going in. Normally, such knowledge would be second nature to her but right now, she just didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything except Sam’s condition. The doctor, true to her word, kept careful watch on him, doing what she could even during the flight to make him more comfortable.
By the time they landed on a rooftop of what she assumed was a hospital, she’d started an I.V. and had stopped the bleeding from the worst of his wounds. The two men who’d loaded Sam on the chopper jumped out first and took charge of getting him out of the helicopter once they landed. Only then did she realize the two men were in hazmat suits with breathing apparatus and thick gloves. She assumed the helicopter and everything they touched would be decontaminated once they’d disembarked. From what she’d seen that night, it was good they were taking such extreme precautions.
She never wanted to see another zombie in her life. They were worse than the few horror movies her brother had dragged her to in their teens. Movie makeup guys had nothing on the true horror of what she’d seen. Nothing could match it and she only prayed she could forget, but feared she’d be having nightmares about it for the rest of her life.
Emily followed behind the little parade led by Sam, now on a rolling gurney, with the two hazmat suited men. The doctor was right behind them and Emily followed her. It was a short walk into the hospital and into a fully equipped private room. There were no windows and the doors had a special entryway that felt like it had negative air pressure. Being a pilot, Emily’s ears were sensitive to such things.
“We’re getting a sealed suite. It’s where they quarantine possibly contagious cases of various kinds,” the doctor said, falling back to walk at Emily’s side.
The hazmat men rolled Sam into the center of the room and lowered the sides, making him more comfortable. The doctor talked with them for a few moments, then let them go. They left the room without another word and disappeared.
“Well, we’re on our own for now,” the woman said, moving to Sam’s side. “I’m Sandra, by the way. I’d shake your hand, but you’re not immune, so you need to be very careful about what you touch in here.”
“So you are? Immune, I mean.”
“Yep,” Sandra answered with a small grin. “I guess Sam didn’t tell you about that part. Don’t get mad at him though. He was under orders. The contagion alone is bad enough but if Jennings knew there were more cases of spontaneous immunity—or in Sam’s case, manufactured immunity—he would have hunted us down to get his hands on it.”
“Manufactured immunity?”
“Something I developed. A serum that works in only a small fraction of the population right now, unfortunately. Luckily, it worked for Sam when he played hero and jumped out of a chopper to help one of the other men. He got infected and would have died but the serum worked on him, thank goodness.”
Emily could picture it. After seeing him in action that night, she knew firsthand how brave he was under fire.
“That sounds like Sam. I’m glad you were there to save him.”
“He’s special, isn’t he?” Sandra agreed as she cut away his shirt. “A terrible patient, but a good man.”
“I heard that.”
Sam’s voice. Whispery and weak, but Sam was definitely awake. Emily rushed to his side.
“Don’t touch,” the doctor reminded her when Emily reached out. “Not ’til we get him cleaned up and decontaminated.” Emily pulled back reluctantly. It hurt not to be able to touch him.
“How do you feel?”
“Like I just got blown to hell and back with a few dozen zombies. How do I look?” His mouth tilted upward at one corner in a roguish smile. Even battered, bloody, and burnt, he still managed to be charming.
“About the same,” Sandra answered.
“Em?” His head turned toward her. He moved slowly, as if in pain.
“I’m here.” How she wished she could at least hold his hand, but even that simple touch was denied her.
“Tell your brother I owe him.”
A startled laugh escaped her. That wasn’t what she expected him to say by a long shot, but it was typical, irreverent, vintage Sam.
“I’ll tell him.” Tears gathered in her eyes but she didn’t let them fall.
“Don’t worry, Em. I’ll be okay. You’ll see.”
“You’re reassuring me?” She gave him a tearful laugh. “I think you’ve got it backwards, Sam.”
“No I don’t. Doc, tell her. She doesn’t know.” Sam’s head rolled so he could look at the doctor.
Sandra’s eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry.” She looked truly contrite. “He really will be all right. Tomorrow at this time, you probably won’t even know he was hurt.”
Emily frowned. “What?”
“You might as well know it all,” Sandra replied, going back to work bathing Sam’s wounds. “The original goal of the research was to develop something that would make soldiers heal faster. In the few people that are immune, that goal has been achieved. Unfortunately, only a micropercentage of the normal population is spontaneously immune, according to my calculations. And my serum only works on another small segment. The risk of the contagion is too great to use, even with the few successes we’ve had. Like Sam.”
Emily almost didn’t believe the doctor’s words. They didn’t make sense. Not when confronted by Sam’s injuries.
“Here,” Sandra pointed to an area on Sam’s chest. “Watch.”
The patch of skin had been exposed to the flames, torn by claws, and then burnt. It was covered with a bloody, crusty brownish scab of material that made Emily wince. Sandra irrigated the area with a small amount of saline solution, then wiped it away.
The skin beneath the crusty mess was pink and healthy. Newly healed and unscarred.
“Dear Lord,” Emily breathed. “He’ll heal? He really will heal?”
“Yes, Emily. He’ll be good as new by tomorrow, if I’m any judge. Right, Sam?”
“Good as new, doc. But right now I really need some shut eye. Sorry, Em. Can’t stay awake.”
“It’s a side effect of major healing,” Sandra explained. “Don’t worry. It’s normal.”
“Love you, Em,” Sam whispered as he drifted off to sleep on the gurney, while the doctor continued her work.
Emily let the tears fall. Tears of relief and joy. She was in a daze. He would be all right! Praise God, he would be all right.
Sandra watched her, peering upward every few moments as if checking on her. Finally, she spoke.
“Why don’t you use the restroom there to clean up a bit.” She gestured toward a door at the end of the room with her chin. “We can’t take any chances with decon, so you’ll have to strip off and put your clothes and anything else you’re wearing in a plastic bag. It’ll be returned to you once it’s been through decontamination. There should be scrubs in the bathroom. You should take a shower while you’re at it and scrub your hair and under your fingernails thoroughly.”
Given a task, Emily was grateful to have something to do. Relief rushed through her veins, renewing a little bit of the adrenaline that had kept her going thus far. Emily did as she was told, using a plastic garbage bag she found in the bathroom to wrap up her clothing and shoes before stepping into the shower. The hot water felt good and if she cried happy tears, they meshed with the gentle pelting of rain from the showerhead to disappear down the drain.
When she emerged from the shower, she felt renewed. Sam would heal. Their lives would go on—hopefully together. He’d said he loved her a few times now. He couldn’t take it back. She wouldn’t let him. She wanted to be with him, no matter what that meant. She’d even give up the airline if it meant being with Sam, but that was putting the cart before the horse. First they had to answer to his superiors and Sam needed time to heal.
Everything else could come later . . . now that she knew there would be time for them to be together. She wasn’t letting him go. Not now, not ever.
Sam was sound asleep when she emerged from the bathroom, dressed in loose scrubs with little booties on her feet. Sandra looked up at her and smiled.
“There’s someone who wants to see you outside. Don’t worry. I’m staying with Sam. He’ll be fine.”
Emily took a good look at Sam. Yes, indeed, he did look a whole lot better than just a few minutes ago. Sandra had cleansed his wounds and many of them were already healed. The angry scratches were mostly gone. Only the deep wounds still required bandages to hold them closed. He had a few of those on his face, along with some burns, but his face was looking much better than it had. The burns were healing. If she hadn’t seen him when it first happened, she wouldn’t have known how bad he’d been hurt. It was truly amazing.
“Get some rest if you can,” Sandra said, breaking her intense reverie. Everything was still a little fantastical to her. “Go. I’ll take good care of him. I promise.”
“Thank you, Sandra.” Emily had to drag herself away from Sam’s side but knew there were people she probably had to talk to after what they’d been through. No doubt there would be reports to file and information to impart. She headed toward the door reluctantly, but made herself go through it, confident that Sam was in good hands.
She hit the button to open the inner door then passed into the air lock area before the doors at the far end opened for her. What she found waiting for her was something totally unexpected.
It was a huge hug from her twin. His arms enveloped her even before she realized what was going on. He tugged her into his arms and lifted her clear off her feet, holding her tight.
“God, punkin, don’t ever worry me like that again.” He kissed her cheek before lowering her to the ground again, his worry clear in the slight tremble in his arms.
“Henry,” she could barely speak, so glad to have him nearby.
“I’m here.” He stroked her hair, soothing her. The shakes hit her bad as she finally released all the worry, tension, and emotion that had stormed through her since being kidnapped from the B&B earlier that night.
A throat cleared behind them and Henry reluctantly let go of her. He turned them both to face the man who stood watching them.
“Emily, I’d like you to meet Commander Sykes.”
The slightly older man held out his hand and Emily shook it. He had striking denim-blue eyes and a friendly smile that he used, no doubt, to try to put her at ease.
“I’d like to talk to you about what happened tonight if you’re up to it, ma’am.”
Emily went with him into a small room that looked like it had been commandeered in a hurry. A mismatched table and chairs had been crammed into what had probably been a break room. Her brother came with her for moral support and doled out coffee for them all from the coffeemaker on the counter behind the chair she’d taken.
“Can you tell me how you ended up at the ranch?” Sykes began, his voice gentle.
“Scott Southerland kidnapped me from the bed-and-breakfast. He tied up the old lady who owned the place. I saw her on the way out the door. He forced me to get into his car at gunpoint and drove me up there.”
“Did he say anything?” Sykes prompted.
“He was ranting about how I shouldn’t have stuck my nose into his business. How I’d almost ruined everything for him. Then he started gloating, saying that I wasn’t as smart as I thought I was. How he was smarter and that he always had been despite the fact that he’d never been able to get his pilot’s license. That was always a bone of contention between us, even as kids. His father always wanted him to earn his wings but Scott never seemed to give a damn one way or the other. When it really counted, he never passed the exams. He nearly had a cow when Shotgun went to the academy.” She looked at her brother and smiled. He nodded, allowing his mouth to lift in a small grin in response.
“What happened to his weapon?” Sykes asked, taking notes.
“It’s in the plastic bag with my clothes. I left the other weapon in there too. Scott’s gun only had three conventional rounds left in the clip. The gun that Sam gave me was empty. I used all the rounds before I took off in the car. But I’m getting ahead of myself.” She took a breath, trying to focus. “When Scott pulled up in front of the house, he held a short conversation with the three men on the balcony. They seemed to be stalling him and it became apparent why when the first zombie showed up. Scott shot wildly and used most of his ammunition. I retrieved the gun from the dirt when Scott went down but I didn’t end up firing any shots from it.”
“That’s when Sam broke cover, right?” Sykes prompted.
“I didn’t see where he came from, but suddenly he was there.”
“I heard the rest. He had his phone on speaker.” Sykes jotted a few notes before returning his gaze to her. “Can you account for what happened to the three on the balcony?”