The kitchen doorway opened to her right, with another at the other end, leading to a dining area. It was also accessible by a short hallway, separated from the kitchen by a wall. To her left, another hallway opened in a T, two bedrooms with a bathroom between. The living room faced the river to the east, as did the master bedroom and adjoining bath. A cozy, nautical theme carried throughout. Her grandfather loved to sail. He bought all kinds of ocean themed items for her. Lighthouses, seashells, ropes with fancy knots tied in them, buoys and model ships covered every available wall and shelf.
Blythe went to her office in the second guest room, formerly her bedroom, when they spent weekends here as a family. White boards lined three of the walls. The fourth held her desk and computer, with three screens, and a laptop.
Taking up a handful of dry erase markers, she faced the boards. On one, she wrote "November 1, 2012: Micah died. Alec died. Malachi injured. Coma. Rosemont.
On the second: Elam – paramedic. Malachi – paramedic. Alec – medic.
She wasn't sure if this was important to the situation, or simply because she seemed to favor a particular personality type. Not that they looked at all alike, but Elam and Alec were certainly similar in many ways. What little she'd observed of Malachi, he displayed the same caring, take command kind of traits the other two did. All three men put their lives in danger to help others. It had gotten Alec killed. She prayed it wouldn't cost Elam and Malachi their lives, as well.
On a third board, she listed her dreams. She didn't go into detail, merely wrote down what she could remember about the location, names of victims and whether or not she saw Malachi. Even to her, the information seemed vague, rife with supposition. The coincidences mounted. These, she listed on the first board.
Once she was done, she sat on the floor of the room, knees drawn up to her chin, reading through them dozens of times, adding details here and there, until she had them memorized. Suddenly tired, she closed her eyes, cradling her head on her knees.
The world around her was black, though unfamiliar stars sparkled in the velvet sky. She hunched behind a cluster of jumbled rocks. Realizing it wasn't a natural formation, but a ruined building, she looked around. Sand, lots of it, and rough terrain. It wasn't the only crumbling building. This seemed to have been part of a small town, now in shattered ruins.
The man next to her held up a hand, gesturing. Blythe didn't understand, but her host body did. He followed his leader, head low, body bent over.
Blythe took in the details of her companions. All of them were dressed in fatigues and wore helmets. She followed blindly, letting the soldier do his job. She feared that any interference from her could cost him his life.
The men drew near their destination. The leader signaled again, and they took up their positions. The world exploded with bright lights and deafening sound. Blythe tried to scream, but the body she occupied stayed quiet, waiting. Another signal and they attacked. Her host ran through the target zone, shooting anything that presented itself. Explosions ripped apart buildings, taking down anyone in their path. Her host avoided most of these, skirting around the perimeter. Nearby, one of his companions went down, the victim of a sniper's bullet. Blythe's body ducked for cover.
"Sniper in the northwest tower," he reported. These were the first words he'd spoken.
"Copy that, Red Ranger. Can you see him?"
"Negative. But Big Blue is down. I can get to him—"
"Negative. Stay put. We're on our way."
More bullets zinged, and the downed man took another hit. He bled profusely, his thigh and chest in shreds.
"Blue hasn't got a chance, if I don't move now."
"Negative, Red Ranger."
Her body moved quickly to the downed man. He grabbed the wounded soldier's shoulder straps and pulled. He managed to find minimal cover behind a stack of burned out cars. Taking something from his pack, he bound the leg wound. The chest would wasn't going to be easy, but his hands moved with confidence, turning red with the other man's blood. The stacked cars took a terrible beating. More than one gunman seemed to have targeted the two men. Still, the medic worked quickly, trying to save his patient.
Something hit the topmost car, bouncing on the ground nearby. "Fuck!" her host yelled, picking it up. He tossed it in the air in the general direction of the sniper, before flattening himself over his patient.
The grenade exploded, damaging the sniper's precarious perch. It toppled and fell. The sniper screamed as he descended. The scream ended in a sickening crunch.
Two men ran up, one obviously angry. "Dammit, Alec! What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking I needed to save my partner."
Blythe heard his voice clearly and saw his hands, sticky and red, work tirelessly to help his friend.
"Let's get out of here." He half rose, his head less than two inches above the cars he crouched behind. There was a loud report a few yards away. The world went black for Blythe as he fell to the ground.
"Alec! Alec! Medic is down. Repeat, Medic is down. Alec? Aw, sweet Jesus...."
©2022 Dellani Oakes
No comments:
Post a Comment