Rise From The Ashes: The Rebirth of San Antonio (Countdown to Armageddon Book 3) (5 page)

     Linda looked at Tom and asked, “Tom, what do you think is the most likely scenario?”

     He thought long and hard, and chose his words carefully.

     “Well, obviously something went wrong. And we can assume it was one of two things. Either he was hurt, or he had trouble with his vehicle. Knowing how careful Scott is by nature, I’d say that the second option is the most likely scenario.”

     “Do you really think so?”

     “Yes. You see, those Gators you have out there are a fine piece of equipment. Hell, John Deere has been around for over a hundred years, and they put out some
great machines. But the Gator is a utility vehicle. It’s meant for doing odd jobs around a farm or a ranch.

     “It’s not made to run at full speed for several hours at a time. That’s very hard on it, and that’s not what it was designed for.

     “And it carries no spare parts. If it blows a tire or the water hose ruptures, there’s nothing you can do but walk.

     “That’s where I place my money. I think he was on his way back and had a breakdown. And now he’s on foot making his way back up here. And I think that he’s got his radio off to conserve the batteries so they’re still fresh when he’s within range. And then he’s gonna call in and tell us he’s all right.”

     “Well, how long do you think that’ll be?”

     “Your guess is as good as mine. If he broke down fifteen miles from here, he should be within
radio range tonight. But if he broke down seventy miles away, it might be several days. Figure ten to twelve miles a night. I wouldn’t expect any more than that, because of the upgrade. It’s not that noticeable when you’re in a vehicle. But I’ll bet it is when you’re on foot.

     “Didn’t y’all have him drop some provisions along the way?”

     “Yes. Trash bags placed ten miles apart, with water and granola bars in them. Just in case.”

     “Well, I’d say your ‘just in case’ was a smart move. He won’t have to veer off course to look for water or something to eat, and he’ll be able to keep up his strength and keep his wits about him.

     “He’ll probably show up tonight sometime. And if he doesn’t, that leaves us with two options.”

     “And what are those, Tom?”

     “Either we wait him out and give him a chance to get here on his own. Or if he doesn’t show tonight, I can take another Gator and look for him the next night.”

     Linda looked suddenly panicked.

     “No. I don’t even want to consider that option. I mean, if God forbid, something happened to Scott, we don’t want the same thing to happen to you too.”

     “Well
then, little darlin’. Let’s just hope he makes it back home tonight so we don’t have to worry about that.”

-6
-

     The sun set at 7:04 p.m. that night. At 7:10 Jordan made his first radio call.

     “Dad, this is
Jordan. Come in.”

     Silence.

     “Dad, this is Jordan. Please come in.”

     Still nothing.

     He would repeat the process every ten minutes until he went off shift at eight. Then Hannah would relieve him and do the same until midnight, until she swapped out with Joyce.

     And each time they made a call, the entire house gave their undivided attention. Even in the den, Zachary hit the pause button to stop whatever movie they were watching every time he heard someone calling out for his father.

     And secretly, each one of them was silently praying for Scott’s safe return.

     Just after midnight, Misty crashed on the floor of the den, hugging her teddy bear.

     Rachel and Zachary made it until a little after three a.m., then fell asleep on the couch, side by side, her head on his shoulder. His head rested on hers.

     Linda couldn’t help herself. It was too cute a moment to pass up. She turned on the floor lamps on each side of the couch, turned off the flash on her digital camera, and snapped their photo.

     She said, “Someday, if these two just happen to fall in love and get married, this will be their very first ‘together’ pic.”

     Hannah whispered to her, “That’s a possibility, you know. Rachel has fallen in love with him. She told me so the other day.”

     “He has a crush on her too. I can see it in the way he looks at her. Isn’t puppy love wonderful?”

     Tom was skeptical.

     “Puppy love. What foolishness. Don’t you women have something worthwhile to talk about?”

     “Like what, Tom?”

     “Oh, I don’t know. Fishing, or baseball, or sports in general. Anything that doesn’t involve kissing, romance or feelings.”

     “Tom, you’re just an old grouch. Love is what makes the world go around. If our mothers and fath
ers didn’t love each other, then none of us would be here. Including you.”

     “Now I know you’re confusing love with something more physical.”

     “Whatever. The bottom line is, we happen to outnumber you at the present time, so we get to choose what we want to talk about.”

     Tom was unswayed.

     “Hey, Jordan. What do you think about all of this?”

     “Leave me out of this one, Tom. You dug your own grave, and I’m not going to let you drag me into it with you.”

     Hannah looked at Linda and laughed.

     “That’s a smart boy you raised there.”

     Joyce looked at the kids, sound asleep and dreaming little kid dreams.

     “Should we try to move them?”

     “No, let’s not. If Scott makes it back tonight, they’ll want to be here to greet him. If not, we can wake them up at sunrise to send them upstairs.”

     “They look so peaceful when they’re sleeping. Like little angels.”

     “Yeah, well, looks can be very deceiving.”

     It was five thirty when Linda thought she heard a squawk on the radio.

     “Scott, this is Linda. Was that you?”

     Nothing.

     “Scott, this is Linda. Did you say something?”

     Still nothing.

     They weren’t quite sure what the squawk was. A bit of atmospheric interference, perhaps. Or maybe someone else on the same frequency. Perhaps it was Scott, on the outer edges of the radio’s range, trying to get a signal.

     In any event, it was a moot point. The sun was breaking over the horizon. If it was Scott, he would be bedding down and waiting for the night to return. He wouldn’t be getting any closer than he was right now, and his signal wouldn’t be getting any stronger.

     And it wouldn’t be any easier for the rest of them to get through this new day without knowing where or how he was.

-7
-

     Scott lay on the couch for what seemed hours, debating on whether to move. The bleeding seemed to have stopped on both his entry and exit wounds. His shoulder was still mostly numb. The searing pain from the night before was now more a dull ache.

     He was thirsty. But all in all, he didn’t think he was in too bad of shape for a man who’d been shot and left for dead. And he wondered if he was better off just staying thirsty, instead of moving and taking the chance of restarting the bleeding.

     He very gingerly felt the area around the wound. It didn’t feel hot to the touch, or particularly hard. He wasn’t a medical expert, but he took that to mean that he wasn’t bleeding internally. At least not to the degree that he’d lose all of his blood.

     Still, he knew he couldn’t lay here forever. He was in a comfortable and safe setting, but no one lived here anymore. No one would show up to help him. He had to
keep his wits about him, and figure out a way to get himself to a hospital.

     He dozed off to sleep again.

     When he awakened, it was no longer dark outside. From the angle of the light coming through the window, he guessed late morning.

     He was parched. He needed water.

     As gingerly as he could, he eased himself off of the couch and onto his knees. He knew not to stand too quickly. He knew that blood loss would cause him lightheadedness and he might pass out again.

     And he knew if he passed out from a standing position and hit the floor hard, the bleeding would probably restart.

     So he took his time.

     First, he was on both knees next to the couch. Then one knee. Then on both feet, but bent over with his hands on his knees.

     And slowly… very slowly, he lifted his head and straightened his body.

     And he felt dizzy. He felt himself starting to pass out.

     He bent over again and put his hands back on his knees to steady himself. And took several deep breaths.

     When he felt he was ready, he tried again. More slowly this time.

     The second time was the charm. He’d been able to stand, and as far as he could tell the wound hadn’t started bleeding again.

     He knew his body would be trying to replenish his blood supply, and it would need plenty of water to do so.

     His balance appeared to be good. So he slowly walked, one step at a time, back to the kitchen sink, and to the half filled water glass he’d left there before.

     He drank two full glasses, before his
stomach started to rebel. He felt nauseous. Almost like he wanted to throw the water back up again.

     Then he felt confused. Why would his body want to throw up water?

     Maybe it wanted food instead.

     But that wasn’t going to happen. He knew instinctively that every bit of food that had once been in the house had already been looted. And even if it hadn’t been
, he had no strength to go looking for it.

     Then it occurred to him that maybe he was delusional. Maybe he wasn’t nauseated at all. Maybe his mind was just trying to tell him to slow down. To stop guzzling his water. To give hi
s body time to process what he already drank.

     He drank most of a third glass, more slowly this time.

     The nausea went away. But the lightheadedness returned.

     He held onto the kitchen island for support. He stood there for what was only a minute or so, but it seemed like hours. He could see the couch, a mere fifteen feet away. If he could make it there, he could rest once again, while he decided what
to do next.

     He had to leave the house. He knew that. Help wouldn’t come to him, not here. He had to go to them. Get to a hospital. Or to someone who could take him to one.

     He took a couple of deep breaths and let go of the island. He put his left food in front of his right and struggled to retain his balance.

     That was as far as he got before he passed out and fell to the floor once again.

-8
-

     Robbie had been calling in the early afternoons with his status updates. He was working twelve hour shifts because the SAPD was so undermanned now. On their extended shift schedule, day shift officers took their lunch around two p.m.

     It was an odd time of the afternoon to stop for chow, but for some reason that always seemed to be the quietist time of day.

     Before John checked himself into the hospital, he and Robbie usually managed to meet somewhere in North District 2 and had lunch together. With his best friend in the hospital, lunch wasn’t nearly as much fun for Robbie. Half the time he just worked right through. The days he didn’t were the days that he used his lunch hour to go to John’s house to update Hannah on his condition.