Graham's Resolution Trilogy Bundle: Books 1-3 (47 page)

“Clarisse, can we get everyone into the quarantine lab?” Steven ordered more than asked.

She looked around as if doing a mental head count. “Yes, there’s more medical supplies and cots in there. Some of these people need to be on oxygen, and soon,” she said as she taped the end of the bandage on Reuben’s burn.

Rick heard the plan too, and said loudly, startling everyone out of their misery, “Okay, folks. Listen up, we need to move to the quarantine building. Pick up what you can and follow us.” Rick began leading the procession with a flashlight through the snow.

Clarisse and Steven helped those who were struggling, and Dalton coughed constantly in an effort to clear his lungs, clinging to his two boys, unwilling to let anyone take them from him.

As Clarisse left the gate, helping Bethany, she remembered Addy. Without a backward glance, she ran to the untouched side of the camp to retrieve the girl. After a moment, she reappeared, looking even worse than before. “She’s gone!” she screamed. “Addy! Addy! Where are you?”

Steven caught her as she began to run aimlessly, still calling the child’s name.

The glow of a fire in the distance held Marcy’s vision. She had finally entered the outskirts of Cascade and the closer she drove, the more worried she became.

She debated a few minutes about waking Sam. She wasn’t sure if he would wake up, considering how tired he was, but thought he would want to be told about the potential danger in the distance.

“Sam,” she said and tried to nudge him a little to rouse him from sleep with her free arm. “Sam,” she said louder, and heard him stir in the passenger side seat of the Scout’s dark cab.

“What?”

“Can you see this?” She pointed, “There’s a fire up ahead.”

He blinked and glanced around, then sat up a little higher in his seat. He squinted his eyes a time or two and tried to get his bearings. An expression of dread washed over his face. “That’s the prepper camp up there!”

“Oh. Oh, my God. Your little girl’s there.”

“Pick it up, Marcy,” he growled.

She sped up as fast as possible on the icy roads.

Sam had spent a lot of time in the forests around Cascade and mentally calculated how long the hike would take him if he went first to Graham’s cabin.

“Stop right here,” he commanded. “It’s closer to the prepper place.” The truck skidded to a halt. “You go straight to Graham’s camp. They probably aren’t aware of the fire yet. I have to make sure Addy’s all right. Then I’ll come back.” Sam stepped out, pulling his gloves on and turning up his collar against the cold.

“No!” Marcy called after him as he took his first few unsteady steps “You can’t do that. You can barely walk!”

Sam didn’t dispute her claim, but he trekked out into the woods with his rifle slung over his shoulder, raising one hand in salute behind him.

“Sam!” she yelled in exasperation. He heard her, but kept on into the woods. After a moment, he heard the truck’s tires bite into the crusty road again. She’d bring Graham, he knew, but he’d get to Addy faster this way.

Sam ran as best he could through the forest, blinded by darkness, slowed by weakness and pain. He stopped every few minutes to lean against a tree and listen to the distant shouts coming from the preppers’ camp. Something terrible had happened there. Was his daughter safe?

He continued on, though the world spun every few minutes and he had to slow down and lean against something sturdy before he dared continue. He trusted his hearing more than sight, but even that was impaired from the pounding in his head thanks to that crazy woman’s club. His chest wound bled through his coat. He pressed a hand against it and lunged on; his one thought,
Save Addy, save Addy, save Addy
, thrumming along with the pounding pain.

He finally came to the edge of the prepper enclosure. Residents ran in all directions, shouting orders. Some sat in groups, huddled as if in shock, holding children. He did not see Addy among them.

He stayed far from an exposure point, but as he circled the camp searching for his daughter, he told himself it would be enough just to catch sight of her, a glimpse, some insurance she was all right. He lurched forward, wanting to help as he watched Steven come out of the family tents bearing the weight of a body. An adult. Way too large to be Addy.

Though he wanted to help, he couldn’t risk exposing anyone. Keeping his distance was hard, but he had to remain a spectator to the disaster and search in stealth as he circled the camp. His vision blurred, and the vertigo made him reel. He knew he could easily make a mistake, get too close, but the need to be certain Addy was all right drove him on, searching, always searching, as he staggered between trees.

~ ~ ~

Marcy drove on to Graham’s camp as fast as she could go. Smoke hung between the trees, obstructing her vision, but she squinted and managed to stay on the familiar road, hardly slowing until she was nearly at the cabin. On any other occasion Graham would have threatened to tan her hide, but in this case she thought he would understand. The moment she stopped, right alongside the front porch, she jumped out of the truck and leapt for the door. Giving up right away on the locked entry, she pounded her fists and yelled, “Graham! Graham!”

Macy was the first to open the door “Marce! What? What’s wrong? Oh, my God. Where’s all the smoke coming from?” she asked, waving her hand in front of her face as a cloud of it swept out of the trees.

“There’s a fire at the preppers’ camp! Sam and Mark are injured, but Sam made me stop to let him out on our way back. He’s going to search for Addy. But he’s hurt pretty bad.” She shook her head. “I can’t explain it all now. Get Graham, quick!”

Macy shook her head, and Marcy thought her sister was just being obstinate.

“Macy!” She shook her twin’s shoulders. “I’m serious. Get him!”

“He’s not here! Graham’s not here, Marcy. We don’t know where he is.”

Tala and Bang appeared beside her, and Sheriff rushed between them and out the door, his nose seeking answers from the wind.

“Where’s all that smoke coming from? Is there a forest fire?” Tala asked, eyes wide with alarm as deeper bands of smoke curled toward them and the burning odor becoming stronger.

“I . . . I don’t know,” Marcy said to both questions. “I’ve got to get Mark inside. He’s badly hurt.”

Sheriff began to bark and whine at the danger he sensed, startling them all. He rarely barked unless there was a good reason.

“My God, can this get any worse?” Tala asked of no one. “I think we might have to evacuate the cabin.” She pulled on Marcy’s arm. “Is the fire headed this way?”

Marcy couldn’t care less about the fire. She wanted to get Mark inside, then get Graham to go find Sam. “No! I think it’s just drifting smoke. I don’t know for sure. Mark’s in the truck, hurt bad, and Sam is out there, looking for Addy. He’s injured too. I need to get Mark inside! Help me! Where did Graham go?” She didn’t understand why they weren’t taking this more seriously.

Macy shoved past her. “Come on, then. Let’s get Mark out.”

“No. Leave him there,” Tala said, trying to hold both girls back. “We might have to drive out if the fire comes this way.”

“It won’t,” Marcy argued, shaking loose. She flung open the truck’s back right door and reached in for Mark. He moaned, and air tainted by smoke sucked in through the straw in his throat.

Macy yelled at Tala. “He’s really, really hurt. Come help us carry him!”

Tala shoved her feet into boots and grabbed her coat. Marcy heard her gasp as she took in the extent of Mark’s injuries. “What happened to you?” Tala’s voice shook. Marcy knew Mark was a scary sight, neck covered with duct tape and dried blood from his nose smearing his face.

Mark managed to push himself up onto his elbows, and Marcy sidled in on the floor, then climbed up behind him, helping him sit. “Don’t cough, Mark,” she begged. “If you breathe in smoke, you might cough it out of your trachea.” Tala passed her a soft, knitted scarf. With care, she draped it loosely over Mark’s throat. Macy helped him swing his legs down.

With Marcy pushing and Macy pulling they got Mark out of the truck and on his feet.

“Can you walk?” Marcy asked.

Mark began to move, and the sisters helped him make the journey to the porch.

“Does Sam look like this too?” Tala asked, leading the way to the bunkroom.

“No, I think she got him more to the back of the head,” Marcy offered.

Tala turned the covers back. “Who?”

“A madwoman we met. I . . . I killed her.”

Tala nodded and helped ease Mark down. “Macy, you take the truck down the road a mile or two. If the fire’s spreading, get back here quick. Only go a mile or two and no more. If you think the fire might be heading this way, come back right away, and we’ll all get out of here.”

Macy slipped out the front door with a radio in her hand. The smoky air tried to hold back the dawn. Macy whistled low for Sheriff, and he appeared at the tree line. She patted his head and pointed at the cabin. “Guard the cabin, boy.”

As she slipped behind the steering wheel, Sheriff panted on the porch. Macy saw him sitting on the alert as she backed the truck, turned, and headed down the driveway.

McCann slept only a few minutes near Graham’s side.

When the howling started in his dream, he was a fifth grade boy again, standing at the school’s curb, waiting in line for the school bus with the other kids. They all turned their heads, first hearing the dogs’ howling, followed by the squeal of the county sheriff’s car whizzing by. Soon a fire truck raced after the police car, and the neighborhood dogs gave chase.

He clearly heard Mrs. Goode’s voice. “Wake up,” she said, her whispered warning close to his ear. Startled by the dead woman speaking, McCann jerked wide awake.

He plopped his boots to the floor and sat straight up. “What the fuck?” He rubbed his ear and realized immediately he hadn’t dreamed the whole thing, though he swore he even felt Mrs. Goode’s warmed breath blowing in his ear.

He stood, recognizing the sound of an alarm clanging somewhere in the distance. Wolves howling never surprised him, but that alarm did. “What the hell’s going on?” he asked himself quietly, annoyed that just when he had been able to finally fall asleep something interrupted his peace. He looked at Graham’s sleeping form as he passed on his way to the front door, pistol out before him.

McCann checked outside. Here, where no one lived anymore, there shouldn’t be anyone capable of making such a racket in the middle of the night. In the dark he saw only a faint glow to the northwest. That’s where the ringing seemed to come from, way off in the distance.

Could that be coming from Graham’s camp? Shit! What if they’re looking for him?
McCann worried. He never imagined Cascade’s population as big enough to sustain a community with alarms. The intrusive sound seemed completely foreign now after his months in solitude.

Only one way to find out what the hell was going on.
He strode back inside and crouched beside Graham. He tried to rouse him out of his sleep to give him a little water and more meds, and to get some information.

“Graham,” he said, as he shook him by his uninjured shoulder. “Graham, wake up, man,” he said again, but his efforts were of no use. The guy slept deeply, and he wasn’t coming to. McCann was jealous. Then suddenly, the distant alarm went silent.

“God dammit!” he said in frustration. He gave up on waking Graham. McCann started to suspect a grand conspiracy to keep him awake had taken place, and the ploy was some form of new torture.

He went back outside. With the alarm now subdued, so was the glow of a fire. “Okay, so there’s nothing I can do about their emergency right now. Whoever they are, they apparently have it under control.” He closed the door, shutting out the night, hoping to get a little more sleep before dawn. He assumed his previous position and nodded off once again.

“Addy!” Clarisse yelled as she ran through the ravaged prepper camp. “Addy!”

Reuben had turned back after hearing her voice in alarm. She ran up to him and grabbed him by the shoulders. “You said there’s a body in the greenhouse. How big?”

Not used to seeing Clarisse scared out of her mind, he said gently, “Calm down, Clar—”

“Is it a child’s? Could it be Addy’s?” Silently she begged him to tell her it was not.

“I don’t know, Clarisse. Let’s get everyone to quarantine. She’s probably in there.”

She released her grasp on him and backed away, faking a stoicism she didn’t feel. “You’re probably right.” She nodded. “I have a few things to grab. I’ll be along in a minute.”

He let her go while she ran back to her tent to see if Addy had left any clues. Only her coat and boots were gone. “Oh, my God, Addy, where are you?” she yelled. She had to find out for herself if the burned body in the greenhouse was Addy’s.

Clarisse pulled a green army blanket from her bed and grabbed her flashlight. With everyone having deserted the camp, she headed for the burned out greenhouse. She approached it with trepidation.
Please, God, don’t let it be her.
Steam rose where the fire had won the battle over ice. Water pooled and mixed with the earth underneath.

Clarisse held her arm over her nose as she stepped over some of the smoking debris. The noxious fumes still rose. She was about to enter the burned-out frame when movement caught her attention through the dark end of the long building. Someone bent over the charred remains. She shone her flashlight on him, and when he turned toward her, he shielded his vision from the light and staggered backward.

“Turn the light off, Clarisse.”

She recognized his voice. “Sam?” she gasped and sucked in her breath at the same time. She remembered the danger he posed to her and jumped back several feet farther, shaking with raw fear though she was probably at a safe distance.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered loudly and scanned the area, terrified someone else would detect his presence. She flicked her light on him once again, and he swayed as he took a quick step to the side.

“Is she safe, Clarisse? Is she?” he asked, pleading, his voice broken.

“You, you can’t be here, Sam! What were you thinking?”

“Where’s my daughter?” he howled in grief.

Clarisse shook her head. “I . . . I don’t know,” she stuttered. She pointed at the charred body, “I just came to find out if”—she whimpered—“if that was her.” How it hurt to utter the words!

“It’s not. It’s Tammy.”

Clarisse doubled over and cried. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he said gravely. “I’m sure. I looked.”

“Okay, okay,” she panted, standing erect and pointing the flashlight at him again. The dried blood on his coat had become wet again, and he swayed and staggered from another dizzy spell.

“You’re hurt, Sam. What happened? Weren’t you on a hunting trip?” she asked, confused, trying to make sense of his presence here.

“On our way back, we saw the fire. There was some, um, trouble on the trip,” he said, his voice weak and halting.

Fear shot through her. Had the entire prepper colony been exposed to the virus? “Are the others wandering around here too?” As if dealing with the fire hadn’t been trauma enough.

“No. They’re at Graham’s camp. It’s just me. I need to know if Addy is safe. Where is she, Clarisse?”

She avoided the question. “Did you come close to anyone here?”

“No. I kept my distance. I’m not trying to hurt anyone. I heard you ask about the body in here. So, after everyone left, I came to check. I have to find her. I have to know she’s all right.” Clarisse heard the desperation in his tone and saw it in his strained face, though they stood the length of the greenhouse apart.

“You can’t be in here, Sam. I’ll find Addy. Please, go back to Graham’s camp, and get medical attention,” she tried to reason with him. “I’ll send word as soon as I find her.”

Before she completed her thought, he had already turned and scaled the perimeter fencing to the other side. He obviously would not take her advice right now and would continue his search for his daughter. She had to find Addy first, or Sam might accidentally expose the child to the virus—an outcome they’d all regret.

She also needed to keep his presence in the camp a secret. By their own rules, he would be shot dead on the spot if found within the perimeter. The penalty was a law they had to enforce for their own safety, but Clarisse only had time to worry about Addy right now; she had to find the child.

There was only one place Addy might go to if she had walked out of the tent into the mayhem earlier. The thought scared her. Addy, frightened, would head for the river in the dark, waiting for her father to come and save her.

She took off toward the quarantine building. The others would not understand what she needed to do, but the dawn’s light was beginning to break and she had to get there before Sam thought of the probability first and accidentally expose her to the virus.

Upon entering the crowded quarantine building, Clarisse saw most of the preppers hacking and coughing, even as the stronger ones aided those who were injured.

Rick had cleared a conference room and rushed around setting up cots from a storage closet. Steven tended to Reuben’s youngest daughter, who had burns to her feet. Clarisse heard her say, “I had to run through the fire when I got out of our tent.” The child coughed and wept as Steven worked over her.

Steven’s head jerked up from his task as Clarisse hurried past to her office. She pretended not to have noticed him, though guilt stung her as she made her way between those huddled in the hallway with varying expressions, from horror to dull acceptance. Stepping around and between bodies, she hurried on.

“What’s going on, Clarisse?” Steven’s voice called after her. “Dalton’s down. We have three dead, and you’re MIA?”

“
Addy’s
MIA,” she snapped back at him. “I’m going out to look for her right now. I’ll take a radio.”

She began to rummage through her supplies, snatching up the things she needed. With a glance over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t observed, she opened the refrigerator and pulled out a syringe with the new serum. She quickly capped it and carefully tucked it into her backpack with her other supplies.

“We need you here, Clarisse,” Steven said as she stepped out. “I can’t do this all by myself. Look at these people.” He waved toward the injured with a wad of gauze in his gloved hand.

That pissed her off, partly because she knew it was true and partly because she was damn near her breaking point. “Addy needs me more. Keep everyone out of my lab.” She strode away despite the pleas of the injured and Steven’s angry demands she stay. She didn’t dare stop; she could not forsake Addy.

Outside the dawn peeked over the horizon, casting into stark light their marred oasis, surrounded by the forbidding forest. The few people Clarisse ran into outside were trekking their way back and forth between the burned camp and the quarantine building. The refugees toted random supplies in a daze. Each was on a mission, barely making eye contact, glazed with the unbelievable events of the night. Not surprisingly, they didn’t even ask Clarisse what her intentions were when she unfolded and donned a sterile suit over her outerwear and trekked south from camp.

A new day began to form, whether they were ready for it or not. The voices of those earlier in distress and confusion replayed in Clarisse’s ears. In that state, she could only imagine that Addy must have woke, emerged from the tent, and run into the bedlam around her not knowing what to do. In her terror she’d have run for the only person she knew would never let her down—her father.

Clarisse quickened her pace to the rendezvous spot where she had taken Addy so many times before to visit with Sam. Now, as the daylight grew, he probably watched her every move from a safe distance, or he was searching for Addy on his own. That could mean death for the girl if he didn’t keep a safe distance.

Clarisse’s heart ached. She, too, truly loved Sam’s daughter, but did she love her enough to take the action she feared she might have to? And if she did it, and Addy knew, would she ever forgive Clarisse? She checked the cylinder of the revolver before palming it closed, the familiar click resounding before she placed the gun in her harness. She knew Sam was desperate, and desperate people often made terrible mistakes, no matter their love and good intentions.