Second Chances (11 page)

A few people in the fort looked over to her, and then away, decidedly uncomfortable. All hated the feeling of helplessness; when faced with death, it was the worst feeling, that and grief.

“Just do your best, Doc. It's not what you have; it's what you've got up here,” John told her, tapping her head. “And here,” he said tapping his heart. She nodded, taking a deep breath then exhaling it slowly.

“You want your kit back I suppose?” She asked.

“Keep at it,” he said, squeezing her shoulder. “Do what you can with what you've got; that's all any of us can do, Doc. Triage. Break it down into the smallest boxes and then work on solving each,” he said.

She nodded. “Thanks,” she murmured. She patted his hand as he left.

Chapter 6

When the fields were sprouting nicely and everyone was relaxed, they took the time to have a party again. John again took his turn to guard in the watch tower and again was left out and forgotten. When Ross finally relieved him he waved off her chatter about her new beau Trey. “Storm moving in,” he said gruffly, pointing to the clouds in the night sky. She looked up and then nodded. “'Ware a lightning strike; we haven't rigged a lightning rod,” he said.

“Great,” she grumbled. “I don't suppose...”

“Nope, I did my bit,” John said. He couldn't slide down the ladder fast enough to get away, thoroughly annoyed now that he'd been left out.

Love was definitely in the air; he could hear couples giggling or making love throughout the compound. The air reeked of sex. He fed the animals and then headed to bed wondering what was wrong with him, why he'd let it happen.

In the depth of the cloud shrouded night, the animals came over the wall, ignoring the strange smells and dying fire. They moved so fast Ross didn't hear them at first. She turned at the sound just as one leapt over the wall. She cursed herself; she'd been looking the wrong way the whole time.

Screams could be heard as people nearest the intruders realized predators were inside the supposed safety of their home and after them. They woke others to terror.

Trisha tried to frighten a raptor off, protecting her horses who were neighing in terror and bucking about in the corral. The attacking raptor turned and crouched turning its attention on her. Adam moved in before it got halfway to his wife and crushed it's skull with a sledge hammer.

John woke to the barking and snarling of the animals. He saw something moving on two legs, then a Raptor jumped on the hood of his truck. He honked the horn startling the animal enough to look down. He turned the truck on, popped it into gear, then threw the headlights on and floored it. He stopped quickly to knock the animal off. He winced as its claws scrambled on the hood. “So much for my paint,” he muttered. The animal looked up in front of the truck so he rammed it. He felt the bump and crunch then turned and threw the truck into reverse. He reached over the back of the seat, hanging on as he plowed through the screaming and cawing animals. He hit the dying bonfire, scattering embers that flared up.

A snarling raptor jumped onto the roof of his truck, denting it. The windshield and side window shattered. John ducked, then came up with a 357. He fired into the ceiling and was rewarded by a scream and then a body falling. He climbed out of the truck and fired again as the raptor rose. He put his boot on the feebly thrashing raptor's head to keep it from biting him then shot it in the eye. Its head exploded from the heavy round.

He turned, taking stock. He felt sick when he saw Joy down being torn apart by a pair of raptors. He fired again startling them into letting go of their kill. One cawed, but the other had enough and ran for the wall.

When he was sure nothing was near, John fought his adrenalin to think. He got an idea and then reached in to the glove compartment. He pulled out a flare gun and came out with it. He checked it then raised it over his head. He squeezed the trigger firing the pyrotechnic round into the air.

The puff and burst in the air above the compound made the combatants look up. The raptors cawed in surprise giving the humans a moment to recover and act to save their lives and others.

Heather and Bert led the charge to fight back. They came out of their trailer ready for war, decked out with military grade weapons and deadly training. They separated as they moved into the main compound. Heather was coldly methodical as was Bert. Each wielded a weapon in with lethal efficiency cutting down raptors from each side.

Bert shouted orders for everyone to mobilize and fight the intruders off. He took his eyes off Heather to save Earl. When he turned back, he found Heather had shot and killed four of the raptors, but one had gotten in and bitten her on the thigh. She had used a machete to slice into its spine, killing it.

She continued to fight killing two more raptors before John and Bert came to her aide. John had killed two raptors that had killed his dogs, then made his way back to the largest group of fighting. Lights came on from the Roberts and others homes as they reacted further distracting and confusing their dinosaur enemy. He stood on one side of Heather as she slumped under the dead weight of the animal still attached to her thigh.

Bert valiantly killed the last raptor as it tried to escape snarling in victory. Then he turned to his wife. He bellowed for a medic. Doc Brown was busy with others, but Quincy showed up at a run.

Heather stopped them from pulling the raptor's head off her. She sucked in a breath. “Damn that hurts,” she said. “The teeth are keeping the wound closed, you pull it out and I'm going to bleed out,” she warned, pushing back down on the head to keep the teeth in.

“Honey, we can't just leave it in! It's got bacteria and who knows what else in the saliva!” Bert said, anguished.

“You can and you will,” Heather ground out voice taught with pain but broking no argument. “See to the others,” she ordered. He looked at her in dismay. “We need to make sure there aren't more,” she patiently explained. He hesitated. “Go, I'll be fine here,” she said, sucking in a deep breath. She rested, breathing slowly. “Fetch me a blanket while you're at it, the old one. I don't want to get blood on the afghan; my mother knitted that one,” she said practically.

Bert looked at her but she made a shooing motion. “Grab a first aid kit,” John urged. He nodded and turned on his heel and took off for their motor home. John watched him go and then knelt next to Heather. “You've got to take care of him,” she said to him. “He's going to be a mess,” she said, then shivered.

“You are going into shock. You need to remain calm and still,” John said softly, looking down. Bert's attempt to remove the head had pulled the teeth out a bit, enough for blood to flow. He frowned, knowing she was in trouble. Quincy was shaken; he ripped his own shirt off and then ripped it into strips and then tried to bandage the wound.

“It's too late, femoral artery's been cut I just know it,” Heather said, with her trademark Texas drawl. “Triage, go help the others,” she said, pushing Quincy weakly away. Quincy looked at her, then to John. “Go on now, get,” Heather ordered.

“Hang on,” John said. He pulled off his belt then got it under her. Right at her hip. He pulled it tight, threaded it through the buckle, then cinched it until she gasped, then went tighter.

“I guess we should have tried that a minute ago,” Heather said.

“I...I need stents. Clamps. Water and light. We need to get in there and clamp the bleeder. She's bleeding out,” Quincy said. He kept looking up and around for his wife.

“She's busy Quincy, focus on the patient at hand. Even if this one has two legs and not four,” John said gruffly. “What else can we do?”

“Um, tourniquet, no, you did that. She's going into shock. The bleeding...”

“Too much loss of blood will make my heart stop,” Heather said quietly, voice going dull.

“Hey, come on, stay with us,” Bert said, coming up behind her. She felt him wrap the blanket around her. He shook, making her open her eyes to search his.

“Are you hurt?” she asked weakly.

“No. Not a scratch. I'm sorry,” he said, fighting tears.

“Don't be. You take care of these people. They are good people,” Heather said as others came over. She looked up and smiled weakly. “My, everyone's here, how nice,” she said, eyes fluttering.

“Do something!” Bert ground out as Trisha cried, turning to grab Adam blindly. He hugged her.

“Adam, Trish, get your first aid kit,” John ordered. “You’re closer. We've got to do more,” he said. Adam nodded and moved off, pulling Trisha away. John could hear her quiet sobs. He felt horrible.

“I'm sorry Heather, they...got past me,” Ross said, moving out of the crowd. “By the time I knew they were on the wall, they were over it; I couldn't fire down into our own people,” she said, voice rough with grief.

“I know Ross, I know. I figured as much,” she said, reaching out to squeeze the woman's hand briefly. “How many did we lose?” Heather asked, looking at the woman. “I want to know who's going with me,” she said weakly, voice wavering.

“Doc's working on Sal and Joy. Dawn and Phil are dead. Günter's tore up something wicked,” Ross said. “Bull got chewed too, but he ripped the raptor apart,” she said. “I don't know about the others,” she admitted.

“It's okay,” Heather said softly, eyes tearing. “I'll see them in heaven,” she said.

“Don't talk like that,” Bert said, choking up. He rocked her gently.

“You be good or I'll haunt you,” Heather said, pulling his head down for a kiss. He cradled her as her body slumped, all life leaving it. He stroked her face with his fingers as he cried.

Adam arrived with the kit and handed it to Quincy, knowing it was too late. He kicked the raptor that had bit Heather angrily. John looked up, feeling his eyes sting as the skies opened up with heaven's own tears. Somehow, it was appropriate he thought.

~~~~~~(@)~~~~~~

In the morning they took stock of the butcher's bill. Four of their number were dead including Chen Saito who'd defended his wife with a katana and paid with his life. Ten people were injured; fortunately their injuries were moderate and not critical. The Browns were cautiously optimistic that they'd survive the night. Whether or not they survived the loss of blood and any possible infection was anyone's guess.

No one had slept; all had kept a wary fearful eye on the perimeter, certain death would come for them next. They had fought off the animals but several people had been injured or killed. Sal had been accidentally shot by Nel, though he told her he didn't hold a grudge. She nursed him back to health and apparently that led to a relationship.

At noon, despite the weather, they held a funeral for the dead. All were cremated in the community bonfire. John soaked it with sap they'd found that burned nice plus a couple gallons of fuel. It went up with a roar; a proper funeral pyre to their Valkyrie and her companions or the best they could arrange.

Bert stood at the front of the others, tears mingling with the rain. He looked up to the sky, then to the fire. Rick came over and grabbed his shoulder. The two men looked at each other, empathizing with each other. Denise came over and hugged Bert's leg. He looked down and hefted the girl, holding her close.

~~~~~~(@)~~~~~~

Many of the cars and shelters had been damaged, and a lot of weapons used. Ammo was now low and a very big concern. Gerald's coil guns were a big hit, though they didn't have much stopping power. He'd used them in defense of the community, shooting out a window until a raptor had gotten in too close and he'd been forced to retreat. His window and side of his motor home had been torn and broken for his efforts, but he didn't seem to regret the damage.

The coil guns had proven themselves, but they only had so many. They were also concerned about how long they'd last, and how they'd hold up in the wet and mud outside. Bert set aside his grief long enough to teach others how to make more primitive weapons. They started to make more homemade boar spears and bows.

John dug out his crossbow, compound bow and arrow set. He'd toyed with them briefly but hadn't liked them. He'd considered selling them on Craigslist or E-bay; now he was glad he hadn't.

Another couple dug out an old archery set from their pile of shed and garage stuff. It was something from the man's youth, but the arrows were missing.

“That's fine, the bows are great,” John told them. Victor quietly handed them two quivers of arrows he'd bought off of Joy. She'd finished making the last set the morning she'd died. They made a plan to make fresh arrows; they'd need a constant supply.

Two horses had been clawed up, one bit. The animals were too precious to loose, so Quincy rigged a sling for the wounded mares and stallion. Once the animals were checked over, Quincy led Victor and others in the slaughtering of the dead raptors and other animals.

John left them to that and went to sharpening stakes. These he grimly drove into the ground at an angle around the perimeter of the outside wall. He had to leave the entrance roads alone, but the other areas would have a little more protection. He found it was easiest to drive a flattened stake into the ground at the angle he wanted with another under it as a support. Once it was in good and deep, he pulled a knife out and sharpened the tip, then moved on to the next.

He stopped only when it was near dark, soaked to the bone and covered in filth from head to toe. People stared at him as he entered the base. He looked around in tired confusion until he realized everyone had been terrified about leaving the dubious safety of the walls. “Get over it people. We've got to survive. We can't turtle; we don't have the resources here. So get back on the horse and get with it,” he said wearily, then wiped his arm across his brow. He went off to wash up as they began to murmur. He felt Eric pat him on the back. As he washed up, he noted Gerald on the wall extending his electric fencing to one entire wall. It wasn't much, but it was a start. He overheard Earl and Gerald talking about how to rig more electric fencing for the other walls and left them to it.