Sick (22 page)

Because if she got in his way…

• • •

Rachel got out of the car and joined her brother at the edge of the runway. Together they watched the Gulfstream gain speed as it rushed away from them then lift off into the air. It wasn’t until the plane was a little dot in the distance that either of them spoke.

“What do you think his chances are?” she asked.

“You know I’m not good at figuring out odds. But if you pushed me I’d probably say not a chance in hell.”

“We’ve had people beat that before.”

“Yes, we have.”

She smiled. “You once said there was no way we would ever be able to defeat them.”

He took a breath. “I’m still inclined to believe that.”

“Yet we’re still here. Still fighting.”

“It’s a war that should have started a lot earlier than it did. All we’re doing is damage control and catch up.”

They fell silent.

“Do you think he’ll come back?” she asked.

“You mean after he beats no chance in hell? Maybe.”

“We could certainly use him.”

“We already are,” Matt said.

Rachel knew he was talking about the vials of Ash’s blood their off-site team was already working with. Their resources and facilities weren’t as impressive as the organization they were up against, but they weren’t working with kids’ chemistry sets either, and their people were both dedicated and motivated.

“I think he
will
be back,” she said.

Silently, they both looked west, in the direction the plane had finally disappeared. For the moment, there was nothing more to say.

29

Confirmation came at noon when Tamara’s mother called, wailing, and told her that someone from the California Highway Patrol had just notified her that Gavin was dead. Thirty minutes later, a list of the Tehachapi casualties was handed out to the media at Fort Irwin.

Tamara knew Gavin’s name would be there, but when she saw it, it was as if the breath had been ripped from her lungs.

Joe put an arm around her. “I’ll call the network and let them know. You won’t have to do any more reports.”

“No,” she said. “Don’t call.”

“You don’t need to be a hero.”

“I need to do this, okay? I need to have this right now. Understand?” What she didn’t say was that while Joe had been off at a logistics briefing elsewhere on the base, she and Bobby had been working on a piece about her brother’s death that she wanted to work into one of her upcoming reports.

“Seriously, Tammy. Your brother died. Don’t push yourself.”

“She’ll be fine,” Bobby said.

Joe frowned. “I don’t know.”

“What else is she going to do out here?” Bobby asked, looking around. “It’ll give her something to take her mind of things until she can go home.”

Joe thought for a moment, then looked at Tamara. “If that’s what you really want.”

She nodded. “It’s what I want.”

She allowed herself a quick glance at Bobby while Joe was distracted by a couple of helicopters landing nearby. “Done?” she mouthed.

He nodded.

Good.
As soon as she could figure out how to work it in, the report would be ready to go.

“Who are
these
guys?” Joe asked.

Tamara turned around. The two arriving helicopters had settled down about fifty yards from where the press was camped out. The only other time helicopters had landed in that area was when they were all evacuated here. Though these were dark green, they had no markings on them, military or otherwise.

Three men jumped out of each helicopter, then gathered on the tarmac. After about half a minute, two of the men broke off and headed over to a waiting Jeep. The helicopters, though, had not powered down, giving the impression their stay was going to be short.

“I have no idea,” Tamara said. “National Guard?”

“Could be, I guess.”

They were just turning away when Bobby said, “Oh, crap.”

Tamara looked over. Bobby, always looking for images they could use, had his camera on his shoulder, shooting the helicopters.

“What is it?” she asked.

He stepped back into the shade of the canopy and said, “Come here.”

Tamara walked over, with Joe right on her heels. As soon as she got there, Bobby handed her the camera.

“The four men,” he said.

She aimed the lens at the men on the tarmac.

“The guy on the left.”

She centered the picture on the guy in question.

“Here,” Bobby said. “Let me zoom it in for you.”

He pushed a button on top of the camera, and the image of the man rushed at her.

“Whoa, whoa,” she said. “Too much.” The picture had pushed past the man, and into the passenger area of the helicopter. There was something yellow clumped on the seat, but she barely registered it. “Let me do it.”

Bobby showed her where the button was, and she eased the zoom out a little, then adjusted the angle so she could see the man’s face. He was in profile, and though he looked a bit familiar, she couldn’t place him. Maybe one of the guys who’d flown them out during the evacuation?

She was about to ask Bobby what was so special about the guy when the man turned, suddenly bringing his whole face into view.

For several seconds she forgot to breathe. Finally, she pulled her eye from the viewfinder and allowed Bobby to take the camera from her.

“What is it?” Joe asked.

Bobby gave him the camera.

“Oh, my God,” Joe exclaimed once he’d gotten a look at the man.

They had all made the same connection.

Standing a little over a hundred feet away from them was the man who’d killed Tamara’s brother.

• • •

The orderly checked on the children one last time. Their vital signs were stable, and their breathing deep and even. He made sure the IV tubes would not get caught on anything when the beds were moved, then exited the room.

His colleague had finished packing up the pharmaceutical supplies and their workstation, so the orderly did a final walk-through to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything. They hadn’t.

He picked up the radio from their desk and said, “Station K. Ready and awaiting removal.”

“Roger, Station K. Removal team should be there in two minutes.”

“Copy that, Control.”

Together, he and his colleague double-checked all the latches on the containers to make sure everything was secure.

“I think we’re good,” his colleague said. The orderly was just starting to nod in agreement when the other man blurted out, “Wait.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Did you check the room at the end?”

The orderly shook his head. As far as he knew, there’d been no reason to go in there.

“I used the bathroom in there this morning,” the other man said, already starting off down the hall. “I think I might have left a tissue on the sink.”

“Jesus. Get it. We’re not supposed to leave anything.”

“I know. I know.”

His colleague headed quickly down the hall and disappeared into the last room on the right. When he came back out several seconds later, he held up his hand. In it was a couple of unused tissues.

The orderly was about to read him the riot act for being sloppy, but right then the removal team arrived and he soon forgot.

• • •

“What should we do?” Bobby asked.

Though Tamara barely heard the cameraman speak, the only thought she had was that she was looking at the man who had put a bullet through her brother’s back. Without even realizing it, she started walking toward him.

“Hey, where are you going?” Joe asked.

She didn’t answer.

“Tammy. That’s not a good idea,” Bobby said.

Still, she didn’t reply.

Footsteps ran up behind her, Bobby on one side and Joe on the other. Each grabbed one of her arms, stopping her.

“Snap out of it,” Joe said. “Going over there isn’t going to accomplish anything.”

She struggled to pull free. “I want to know his name.”

The four men on the tarmac seemed to realize something was going on. They glanced in the PCN team’s direction, but then, as one, their gaze swung to the left. The two men who had separated from them earlier were jogging rapidly toward the helicopters. One of them was waving the other men toward the aircraft.

“No!” Tamara yelled as the man who’d killed her brother disappeared inside the helicopter.

Bobby grabbed her around the shoulders, holding her back.

The last man had barely gotten on board when both helicopters rose into the air and shot off toward the North.

“No!” she repeated.

“It’s okay,” Bobby said. “You wouldn’t have been able to do anything.”

“But he shot my brother. I…I don’t even know his name.”

“I got him on tape. If there’s a name on his uniform, I probably got that, too.”

“Hey, you guys all right?”

The three of them turned and saw Peter Chavez stepping out in their direction from under the canopy.

“We’re fine, Peter,” Joe said.

“You sure?” Peter asked.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

As soon as the wire-service reporter returned to the shade, Tamara whisper, “I want to check the video.”

Bobby nodded.

As they walked quickly back to where Bobby had set down the camera, she touched his arm, slowing him and putting a little distance between them and Joe.

“I want you to cut a shot of the guy into the story,” she whispered.

He pulled back a little. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“I don’t care if it’s a good idea. Will you do it?”

He grimaced, but then nodded. “I’ll do it.”

• • •

Paul was covered in dust. It had even gotten under his helmet and into his month. He tried spitting out what he could, but he was already parched. What he really would have loved at that moment was a nice long drink of water, but that would have to wait until he found civilization. His bottles had been in his backpack the men from the helicopters had taken.

So far he’d been able to make pretty good time. The roughest part had been right after he left the canyon. The gentle slope there had been deceiving. Decades of rainwater had carved out gullies that seemed to appear out of nowhere. If he had hit one of those too hard, he would have wrecked and broken his arm or worse.

But now he was on smooth, level ground so he was able to ramp up the speed. He figured the area was probably the bed of the ancient ocean that used to cover this part of the desert. Sarge would have known for sure.

He allowed himself a quick look around. Brown for as far as he could see. He glanced at his gas gauge. He had maybe another sixty or seventy miles left. Reluctantly he backed off on the accelerator. If he kept his speed down a bit, he might be able to squeeze out another ten or twenty miles. That could make all the difference in the world.

He let his eyes settle on the hills in front of him. Another fifteen minutes and he’d be there. If he figured it right, once he reached the top he’d be out of the quarantine zone. The thing he didn’t know was how far he’d still have to go to reach anyone after that. The map his dad had given them was also in the backpack.

To this point, he’d focused all his thoughts on surviving—going as fast as he dared, keeping the bike upright, looking for holes in the ground. But the thought of the map brought everything back.

Mom and Sarge. Leaving home after the sun went down. Racing through the dark desert.

Nick.

Lisa.

The girl who meant everything to him and his best friend in the world—both dead.

The thing he kept coming back to was that he’d sat there and done nothing. He had watched the men raise their rifles. He had watched them fire.

And he had done
nothing
.

Maybe he could have created a distraction. Maybe it would have been enough for Nick and Lisa to get away. Would it have worked? Probably not, but, dammit, he should have given it a try. He should have—

He didn’t see the rock.

One moment his eyes were tearing up with anger over his inaction, and the next he was flying over his handlebars, landing hard against the desert floor.

He lay on his back for a moment, groaning with the pain. The worse of it seemed to be coming from his left knee. He pulled off his helmet then felt his leg, checking if it was broken.

When his hand reached his knee, he nearly jerked back. It felt wrong. He tried to sit up, but that just made the pain worse, so he only raised his shoulder and tilted his head so he could see what was going on.

Immediately, he knew what had happened. He’d seen something similar before, during P.E. at school. They’d been playing soccer, and Ryan Young had tried to kick the ball but had stepped awkwardly and fallen to the ground.