Worth Saving Page 6

  None of the others knew anything about her and were surprised when she first showed up. Schick/Shuck had tried interesting her in joining them on their adventures and been truly confused when their offer was refused. When that didn’t work, they’d tried teasing her, hoping to find a victim that could provide them some laughs. They learned it was no fun when the victim didn’t react. A frog in her underwear drawer didn’t even rate a squeal, let alone a full throated shriek. I was sure the boys weren't done trying and would have to talk to them and try and keep it from getting out of control.

  I placed several 2X4s onto the saw horses, measured and marked them with a carpenter’s pencil. As I began to cut the board with a large handsaw I thought about our latest addition. Little Jenifer Crawley, A nine year old red head who liked to wear crazy outfits that competed with each other in their flamboyance.

  A four year old Jenny and a much, much older Mrs. Thompson. "She was real old, like forty or something," Jenny said. They'd lived in the same apartment building at the time of the illness and ended up taking care of each other until Mrs. Johnson had been taken by the raiders last year.

  The woman and little girl had been scavenging in a mini-mall when the raiders had trapped them in a Java Juice, blocking both exits. Mrs. Johnson attacked them like a lioness, using tooth and claw to open a way for Jenny to escape. The last Jenny saw her; Mrs. Thompson was being loaded into a wagon, her hands tied in front of her.

  Margaret told us about the girl. When I’d started to make plans to go find her, Claire stopped me and suggested that only she and Margaret go. I hadn’t liked the idea of letting them outside the fence without protection, but was smart enough not to say anything. I knew very well that Claire could take care of herself. That didn’t mean I had to like it. My gut twisted like a wrung out rag whenever I thought about her being out their alone and in some kind of danger while I sat here not knowing if she needed my help.

  Margaret led Claire to the girl’s hiding place in a warehouse down by the river. Jenny had never gone back to her apartment after the abduction. She’d been constantly moving around town ever since.

  Jenny chose an office on the library’s third floor across from Margaret. The boy’s emptied it and brought up a bed from the department store along with matching furniture. She’d been excited about her new home and attached herself to Hector, shadowing him while he tinkered in the lab below. He was always working on something but swearing her to secrecy about the project.

  I was drilling holes into the board ends with the handheld drill when I heard a high pitched scream from the street below. I ran to the ledge, two young men, both about twenty where holding Ellen by the arms. The taller of the two was yelling at her to stop screaming.

  My heart jumped into my throat. I knew they could be out the gate and lost into the buildings before I got there. I’d left my bow below; I didn’t need it on the roof. A sense of guilt squeezed my throat as I thought about how scared Ellen must be.

  Turning, I grabbed the rope and threw it around a roof mounted air conditioning unit tying a quick bowline knot securing it. Rushing as fast as I could, my mind racing with all of the things that could go wrong, I dropped the rope down the side of the building.

  Making sure I had a good grip, I threw my legs over the edge and started to lower myself hand over hand. Ignoring the pain, I let go of one grip just as I grabbed the next hand hold. Thinking about Ellen I griped the rope hard enough to slow my progress and dropped the last fifteen feet, tucking into a ball and rolling as my feet hit the sidewalk.

  Springing up, I charged the closest man holding Ellen by the arm, hitting him in the rib cage at full speed. Wrapping up like I’d been taught in Pee Wee football all those years ago. Both of us left our feet and slapped into the pavement with a dull thunk, sliding a good yard or two. I rolled away from the man and sprang to my feet.

  My heart raced and my lungs were working like a blast furnace, pumping in and out as fast I could make them. I looked around, seeing a terrified Ellen safely to the side, frozen in place.

  The other man was much bigger than his partner and moving towards me with a determined look on his face. Seeing that look, I realized that this was a fight to the death.

  A sickening thought ran through my mind, if I failed here, the whole idea behind the community would fail. Pissed off thinking about it, I ran towards the man, surprising him. As he approached, I pulled up short, planted my leg and kicked upwards as hard as I could, catching the man fully in the crotch, the top of my foot ruptured something soft as it made contact.

  The big man screamed and dropped to the ground, curling into a ball with his hands between his legs. Totally focused, no sound could have penetrated to register. All I could see was the man’s face; all I could feel was an overwhelming desire to push something through it. Bringing my fist overhand, I put my whole weight behind the punch and felt the satisfying crunch of bone. Elated, I brought my arm back again and again turning the man’s face into a black and blue mush.

  I’d still be punching the man but an arm snaked around my throat and pulled me off. As I was being pulled backwards, I threw one last kick into the man’s crotch, a soundless laugh became trapped in my throat when the man groaned.

  I grabbed the arm around my throat, pulling it away enough to twist away and face the attacker. Surprised to see the first man, I pushed away, trying to get my bearings. I’d totally forgotten about the other man, so focused on the bigger guy. How could I be so dumb? Gasping for breath I tried to get an understanding of the situation.

  My awareness of the environment slowly returned.

  Trying to get enough air and to slow my pounding heart, I crouched, gathering myself for a charge. The man circled, bent at the waist and came up with a knife from the ground. One of the two he’d dropped in the melee. I hadn’t known it was there. I reached for my belt, my heart dropped as I remembered my knife sitting on the work bench back on the roof.

  As we circled each other I started having problems seeing and realized my left eye was swelling close. I didn’t even remember when it happened; it must have been when we hit the street together. The man smiled, obviously enjoying his significant advantage, exposing a missing tooth he’d probably lost during my initial tackle. Spitting out a mouthful of blood, the man made a move towards Ellen and I jumped in front of her.

  We continued to circle each other. The man finally made his move, lunging in and sweeping with the knife. I jumped back, throwing my arms into the air, trying to keep myself between Ellen and the man.

  “Ellen, get out of here,” I yelled, not checking to see if she followed my order, my good eye never leaving the hand holding the knife.

  The man yelled and made a stab move towards my belly. Twisting, I tried to block the move but missed badly and felt the sharp blade cut into my left arm and skid along the bone. Fear shot through me as I saw the satisfied look on the man’s face. Realizing my left hand was now useless and how much danger I was in, I let out a primordial scream. Using the last of my energy I moved to kick the man in the crotch.

  Expecting the move, the man jumped back. I didn’t kick, instead I followed him and using my dead arm as a blocking club I threw a right hook to the man’s face, breaking his nose and making him back up several steps.

  I knew that I had to finish this fast; I was losing too much blood and had spent too much energy. My body was screaming in pain, yelling at me to stop and fix it. Not knowing how much energy I had left, I charged the man again before he could react. Using my head as a battering ram to the chest, I tried to grab the knife arm and hold it away but the man didn’t cooperate. Taking the full force of the charge, he twisted and threw me to the ground.

  Landing on my back, I looked up as the man dropped to his knees on either side of my chest, pinning my arms.

  Moments away from death, my mind exploded with awareness. I could see the sun over the man’s shoulder, peaking through the fluffy white clouds. My nose was flooded by his attacker’s stink. He
smelled like he hadn’t taken a bath since last summer. Like wet wool soaked in old sweat. My fingers where bruised and puffy. I had to fight to control my gag reflex at the rusty iron taste of the blood filling my mouth.

  Most of all I could see the man who would kill me. Using my one good eye, I tried to memorize his face so that if there was a Heaven and or a Hell, I could hunt the man down. I cataloged every acne mark, the missing tooth, and the cool brown eyes. Every detail was burned into my soul as the man raised the knife above his head, holding it with both hand.

  I tried to move but I was locked down. Refusing to give up, I gathered a mouthful of bloody saliva and spit it into the man’s face. Taking a deep breath, ready for the end.

  The man dropped a hand to wipe the red spittle from his eyes before he returned it to its previous position, obviously enjoying the moment. He started to bring the knife down again when without warning there was a large crack and an explosion of wood, hair, and blood. The man’s head slumped forward as his eyes glazed over. I rolled free as he fell to the left, unconscious.

  I sucked in a deep breath, Wondering if I was still alive, and if so why? My confusion was overwhelming until I saw Claire standing there, feet spread, holding a 2x4 above her right shoulder like a baseball bat, ready to swing again. Her face was set and determined as she focused on the man lying at her feet. Her long blond hair blowing in the wind.

  Her fiery eyes reminded me of a biblical angel smiting a demon. A surge of adrenalin flushed through me with a glorious sense of exaltations, unbelievable gratitude, and a strange feeling deep around my heart.

  I slowly stood up, squeezing my arm to try and stop the bleeding. Remembering the other attacker, refusing to be surprised again, I swung around and let loose a huge breath when I saw him curled up in a ball on the ground, rocking back and forth.

  I stumbled to Claire and in a voice breaking with emotion, said “Thank You.”

  She seemed to relax, her eyes narrowed, “Did I kill him?”

  “No, I don’t think so, he’s still breathing,” I said. My head spun and vision started to turn blurry. I’d have killed for a drink of water. My mouth tasted like what I imagined a desert tasted like, a desert in the dead of summer at that. Claire’s forehead creased in obvious concern as she looked me over, reaching up she brushed grit and grime away from my face, tenderly caressing my swollen eye.

  “Ellen, go get me the first aid kit, and a couple of clean sheets.” Clair said, her eyes never leaving me.

  “And some rope to tie them up,” I reminded her.

  “How did you get here so fast? I thought you were on the roof? I was so scared when I heard Ellen’s scream; I thought for sure neither of us would get here in time,” she said. I think Claire was babbling, the energy pulsing through her body had to go somewhere. She started to pace back and forth and kept looking at the man she’d hit.

  I nodded my head towards the rope hanging down the side of the building and watched as Claire’s eyes widened in admiration. My chest expanded and I couldn’t help but smile at the wonderful feeling that flowed through me like rejuvenating electricity.

  “You’d better see to your boyfriend,” A female voice said. Both Claire and I twisted around to watch a young woman step out from the shadows.

  Chapter Nine

  Something about the woman set Claire’s teeth on edge; I could see her bristle with resentment. About twenty years old with that perfect complexion and wavy chestnut hair with an obvious natural curl. The woman looked like she’d stepped out of an L.L. Bean catalog, the college coed version. Designer suede boots and a green plaid shirt tucked into tight jeans completed the look but it was the cool assessing eyes that really bothered me.

  “Who are you and where’d you come from,” Claire snapped. “Are you with them?” she asked, nodding to the two heaps lying in the street.

  Smiling sweetly the woman stepped away from the building. “I think you need to be ready to catch your boyfriend, he looks like a three legged chair.” I did feel dizzy; the world was beginning to spin and I was having problems concentrating. Hell, I was having problems standing up.

  Irked that her question had been ignored, Claire started to challenge her again when the comments registered. She turned and dropped her club in time to catch me as my body decided that standing was no longer a good thing and that consciousness was not all it was cracked up to be.

  “You’re heavy,” Claire exclaimed with surprise, catching me around the shoulders and lowering me to the street. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.” Her face was as white as mine as she scooted her leg under my head and reached for my wounded arm.

  Her fingers fumbled as she ripped my shirt to expose the wound. She threw me a quick glance, probably expecting to be chastised about always ruining my cloths and never wanting to disappoint a lady, I had to say “What is it about you always trying to rip my clothes off?

  “Shut up,” She said

  “Am I going to die,” I asked, only half joking.

  “No way, not now, never,” She mumbled to herself as she positioned the large chunk of muscle and skin back over the wound, bringing the edges close together and applying direct pressure like she’d learned from every first aid book she’d read.

  I was a little scared by the fact that it didn’t hurt. I could feel her moving the skin muscle, but no pain. The world slowed down and everything was starting to turn off, fading to black. She did something new and I exploded with a scream.

  “I’m sorry, really, I have got to stop the bleeding,” Claire said, her face scrunched up with worry.

  Small red rivulets continue to seep down my arm; the bleeding slowed but didn’t stop completely. Claire clamped the wound closed and frantically looked around the area for some kind of bandage, anything that could help stop the bleeding. Looking towards the library she called for Ellen to hurry up. A dead silence answered her. Shaking her head she mumbled something about Ellen getting lost in her own closet.

  Desperate, Claire did the only thing she could think of, using her teeth to hold the collar, she pulled her free arm through her T-shirt, then switched her grip on the wound to pull the other one free. Both arms finally free, she reached over her shoulder with her bloody hand and pulled it all the way off.

  Lying there in a new kind of shock, I watched as her beautiful bra clad chest leaned across my body to wrap the arm. My eyes were like dinner plates, no way was I fading out now. A shiver of guilt ran from my toes all the way up when I saw pure pale skin smeared and corrupted by my blood. I felt guiltier when she caught me looking at her chest.

  “Boys!” was all she said, shaking her head.

  “I asked you a question earlier, are you with these two?” Claire said to the woman in the shadows, her voice tight with emotion, “Because if you are, and he dies, I’ll kill you,” She said through gritted teeth.

  Glancing at the woman to make sure she’d gotten the message, Claire saw the boys coming through the gate, returning from a scavenge and loaded down with full backpacks. Holding their cross bows up and scanning the street looking for danger.

  The three boys looked at her. Hector said, “What the… Um Claire…. Um you know you’re in your underwear … right?” Hector always was the observant one.

  “Get over here and help me,” She yelled. “Come hold this bandage. You two find something and tie these guys up. And keep an eye on her,” Claire said, indicating the woman by the shadows.

  I laid there and let them take care of things. My head wasn’t spinning as much and settled down after Hector handed me a water bottle.

  I was proud of them when they didn’t panic, they jumped right in and started helping. Claire’s shoulders relaxed a little and her eyes started to mist up a little when she looked at me. I think she was beginning to accept the fact that everything was going to be alright.

  Hector being Hector pulled a six foot length of rope out of a backpack pocket and tossed it to Schick/Shuck. They cut the rope and miracle of miracles, the two boys spl
it up, each taking an attacker. Quickly tying their hands behind their backs then throwing their arms in the air like rodeo cowboys. Shuck smiled a mile when he saw that he’d beaten his friend.

  “What’s going on?” Hector asked Claire as he relieved her of my arm. His obvious concern and worry painted on his face. “How bad is it?” He continued, looking at all the blood around him.

  “I don’t know,” Claire answered her voice catching. “I heard Ellen scream and by the time I got here, Kris was fighting these two. He’d already taken one out of action, but the other came up with a knife and had Kris down and getting ready to stab him. So I hit him with a board.”

  “Hey guys, I’m right here you know,” I said. They both looked at me then returned to discussing my performance.

  “I thought Kris was going to be working on the roof today?” Hector asked.

  Pointing towards the rope hanging down the side of the building, she indicated the rope I’d used to get down so fast.

  “Wow, you got some serious cajones,” Hectors said to me with a smile as he lifted the bandage to see if the bleeding had stopped.

  “Keep that on until we get him upstairs,” Claire admonished then turned her head to check on Schick and Shuck and their knot work.

  “Hey, this guy is coming around,” Shuck said.

  “Good, that way he’ll be alive when we hang him,” Claire said and I think she was deadly serious. “Can you get up?” She said as if she were asking me if I wanted sugar with my coffee. “I want to get you into bed,” she continued, her voice soft and soothing. Her face, throat, and finally her wonderful chest turned a pretty shade of strawberry when she realized what she’d said.

  I have since learned that whenever Claire is embarrassed, she becomes bossy, taking charge. Of course, Claire takes charge even when she isn’t embarrassed.

  She helped me stand up, directing the boys to bring our prisoners, including the woman and had Hector hold my wounded arm while she draped my other arm across her shoulder. Holding tightly to my hand we started for the library.