Chapter Twenty-Seven
12:57 p.m.
The pain in Ava’s head throbbed along with her heartbeat, radiating up from the base of her skull. While the immediate urge to vomit had passed, nausea still had a strangle-hold on her stomach. At least the dizziness had disappeared, though she was afraid to move too quickly in case it came back. Blown up again.
She was sick and tired of it. Of the futility of all of it. If Boots weren’t already dead, she’d kill him herself.
The expression in River’s eyes, concern, care, and the gentle way he handled her, made her want to live, want to be strong, for him. Though, his coming to her rescue wasn’t the smartest or safest thing to do.
So many risks. He’d ignored them all, and, with only a retired drill sergeant turned bus driver, had engaged three times as many armed idiots in an urban skirmish with the slim hope of getting her out alive. It made her want to rant at his foolishness and accuse him of breaking his word to her, all while hugging him close. The absurdity of the past twenty-four hours had gone beyond crazy and into unbelievable.
Who had this much hate inside them? Who could plan the deaths of so many people in such rational detail? There had to be a motivation behind it all. Was it revenge, or were they dealing something colder—a psychopath testing the limits of their intellect against law enforcement’s capability? They’d have to be charming and persuasive, inspiring and able to instill loyalty within a tight-knit group. Like the leader of a cult.
“Hey, Doctor,” one of the students called out. “Can you help me? I think my arm is broken.”
Good. Maybe he’d think twice before joining the next irrational cause.
“What do you expect me to do about it?” she asked instead.
“Well, you’re a doctor, so…”
“I’m a doctor who has a concussion, thanks to you and your stupid friends. All I’ll be able to do is throw up on you.”
“Oh. Could you untie me, then? It really hurts.”
“What part of throw up didn’t you understand?” As if she’d let any of them loose to carry on with their crusade.
“Shut up,” one of the others ordered. “If she lets you go, I’ll kick your ass anyway. You’re going down.”
“What the fuck is your problem?” Broken Arm asked. “You’re as much a part of this as the rest of us. Remember how excited you were when you thought you’d get to blow up soldiers?”
“I didn’t know Sam was planning on killing all of us, too, asshole. I thought we were just trying to force the government to do the right thing. I never signed up to kill myself.” His voice rose to a whine that stabbed her temples. “It was all supposed to be a secret. Not a fucking slaughter.”
“What are you talking about?”
“My dad sent me a text. My mom and sister are sick, thanks to the disease that was just supposed to make people sit up and take notice of our cause.” He sneered. “Our cause. What a joke. On us.”
“They’re sick?”
“Yes, like on death’s door sick.” He started to cry. “And I helped do it to them.”
“God, you’re such a wuss,” one of the others said. “We all knew going in that what we were doing was going to hurt people. What the fuck did you think was going to happen when we were making those IEDs?”
“I thought we’d be fighting cops and soldiers, not attacking little kids,” Whiner shouted as he thrashed around in an attempt to get free.
“You’re an idiot,” Broken Arm said in a cold voice.
“You’re all idiots,” Ava said to them. “Every last one of you, to think you could control a biological weapon like the bacteria you morons weaponized.”
“It was supposed to wipe out Fort Bliss,” Whiner said.
What? “Say that again?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Fuck you, asshole,” Whiner shouted back. He turned and met Ava’s gaze. “Getting loose in the city and on campus was an accident.”
“An accident?” If she wasn’t afraid of making her head hurt worse, she’d get up and throttle all of them. “What about your merry band of rebels? Was it part of the plan for all of you to die either in one of the explosions or of the bacteria you created?”
“It wasn’t part of any plan I knew of,” the kid explained.
No one said anything for a couple of seconds.
Then Broken Arm sighed. “Only a couple of us volunteered to do the suicide bombing thing. Sam said it wasn’t a sure thing, anyway.”
“So, the fact you’re all infected and showing symptoms is also an accident?”
“We are?” he asked. “But…”
“Whether you knew it or not, you’re all suicide bombers.”
No one said anything for a long time.
And River thought she was naive. Black and white, she’d once thought that way, but somewhere between the flu and Ebola, her view of the world had gained an infinite, unknown number of colors.
River and Sergeant Sturgis came back on board the bus, carrying a couple of bags each full of stuff. River strode over and dumped the contents of his two bags onto the seat next to her. He opened up gauze, alcohol, and several butterfly bandages and began cleaning the cuts and bandaging them with narrow eyes and lines of strain between his brows.
“Are you angry with me?” she asked in a low voice so no one would overhear.
“What?” He blinked and stared at her. “No, I just…” He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m having to work really hard to resist the desire to kill the fuckers we managed to save.”
She couldn’t miss the fact that he never once glanced at said fuckers. “Some of them were misled. They didn’t realize that their leader was going to sacrifice them all for the cause.”
He snorted. “That doesn’t make me feel all that charitable toward them. They knew what they were doing was illegal, immoral, and idiotic. They just wanted to feel the thrill of killing someone without the punishment that goes along with it.”
River closed another long cut with butterfly bandages, his touch gentle and soothing.
“Okay, I have to agree with that, but they’re still just flunkies. We haven’t found their leader.”
“Sam was our leader,” Broken Arm said. “He’s dead.”
“Small brains, big ears,” River muttered. He raised his voice and said, “There was another person who is at least partly responsible for the planning of your homicidal insurrection.”
“No, there isn’t. Everyone was at the chem lab, or dead.”
River shook his head again. “Nope, there’s someone else. Someone who had the Darth Vader ringtone on Sam’s phone.”
All four of the students had confused expressions on their faces.
“There wasn’t anyone else,” Broken Arm insisted. “Honest.”
“Like any of you maggots can be trusted,” Sturgis said. He turned to River with the scariest eyes she’d ever seen. “I bet I can make one of them talk.”
“As much as they deserve it, I don’t think we’re allowed to torture them.” River did sound somewhat disappointed.
“So, call Homeland Security,” Sturgis suggested. “They torture people all the time.”
One of the boys started to cry again.
“Or, let me call the base. I know a couple of guys who could make all four of them disappear.”
That brought a question to Ava’s lips. “I’ve been wondering. Their plan was to set off explosions on the base and release their pet bacteria on the soldiers stationed there.” She had everyone’s attention now. “How were they going to get into the base? I mean, it’s not like they could just walk in. They’d have to scale patrolled fences, then pass for soldiers until they planted and detonated their explosives.”
“They couldn’t,” Sturgis said. “Security’s too tight.” He glanced at the boys. “How were you going to do it?”
“I don’t know,” Broken Arm said. “Sam said it was all taken care of, though. Someone on the inside was going to let us in.”
“In a vehicle?” River asked.
“I don’t know. Sam didn’t say.”
“Any of the rest of you know?”
They shook their heads.
“Someone on the inside…” River muttered.
“A traitor?” Sturgis shook his head. “That ain’t good.”
“The base commander is already infected,” River said. “That’s going to cause some confusion.”
“So, is that the point?” Ava asked. “All we’ve heard is that they want the military to leave the Middle East, but there were no specifics.”
“What are you getting at?” River asked her.
“I’m wondering if this terrorist cell made up of American college students was created for the sole purpose of adding to the confusion. Keep everyone trying to combat the outbreak and find the perpetrators of the explosions off balanced and confused.”
“You’re saying that whoever recruited the first one—this Sam—never told him what the real plan was?”
“Maybe he did,” Ava said, shaking her head. “Sam seemed awfully cagey about what was going to happen next. Kept talking about the big bomb going off and how big of an impact that was going to have.”
“I never signed up to die like that,” Whiner said.
“Me neither,” said another.
“Cowards,” Broken Arm said again.
“So, we haven’t met the architect of all this horror,” River said.
“I don’t know about that, Snowflake,” Sturgis said. “Assholes who think they’re entitled to kill anyone they want generally can’t stay away from the scene of the crime. They want to see the dead, take satisfaction in seeing all the pain their weapons cause.”
Ava stared at Sturgis, with her mouth hanging open. River, however, didn’t look surprised at all.
“Yeah, they do.”
“How do you know that?” Ava asked the retired soldier.
“I knew a drill sergeant a few years ago who took too much pleasure in beating the crap out of recruits. Our job is to toughen them up, get them in shape, and establish a sense of community. That guy, he loved hurting the weaker ones, but he was real careful to keep it just on this side of the line.” The tone of his voice at the end of his story told her there was more that he hadn’t said.
“What happened?” She almost didn’t ask.
“He killed a boy. Broke his neck by stepping on the kid’s back when he was trying to do push-ups.” Sturgis crossed his arms over his chest. “He liked it the same way a normal person likes ice cream.”
Just the idea of causing that kind of pain for another person made Ava nauseated again, but she was going to have to deal with it if they were going to find the person responsible for everything that had happened.
She wanted a couple of painkillers and about twenty-four hours of sleep, but wasn’t going to get either. She’d watched River as he patched her up. He’d favored his left arm and shoulder.
“Your turn,” she said to him as she put her hand down to help push herself off the seat.
He looked at her for a moment, then nodded and sat down. He pulled off his body armor and clothing down to his pants.
She examined the bandage. “Did Sturgis do this for you?”
“Did it myself. Been kinda busy ever since.”
She pulled out a suture kit, put on a pair of gloves, and sewed up the wound under his arm. As much as that bullet hole bothered her, the three large mottled bruises decorating his chest made her stomach clench. Her fingers glided over them, and she caught her breath as his chest expanded to follow her hand as she pulled it away.
Giving him a repressive look, she pressed a little harder, checking his ribs. “Deep bruising, but no breaks.” Her voice was quiet as she studied his chest. Her gaze lifted to meet his. “How are you? How are you really?”
The expression in his eyes was determined. “We’re going to stop this. We’re going to get him.” It was a vow. She could hear it in his voice.
“If he doesn’t get us first.”
“Not going to happen.”
She found her shoulders wilting under the stare of the college students. “We’re pretty beat up.”
“Wars aren’t won with might,” he said, leaning forward and lowering his voice. “They’re won with intelligence, perseverance, and conviction.”
He was right. Giving up was not an option, but the risks only seemed to be getting larger and larger. She took his hand and pulled him to his feet.
River helped by putting a hand around her waist and propping her up against him. “Ava?”
“Let’s talk outside,” she said softly, including Mr. Sturgis in her request.
River helped her limp out of the bus and another ten feet away. “I think this is good.”
She nodded and looked at both men. “We need to figure out who the person responsible for this is. So, how do we do that?”
River gave her a half of a smile. “We go fishing.” He looked at Sturgis. “I could use some bait.”
“You mean, besides these fine young men here?” he asked, thrusting his chin at the bus.
“Yeah. I’m thinking the bait is going to need to be very special if it’s going to work. Something the architect isn’t going to see coming.” River winked. “The last thing anyone is going to predict is you, DS.”
“Stop with the compliments, Snowflake. You’re making me blush.”
“What can I do?” Ava asked. “You’re not going to keep me out of this. I want to help.”
“You,” River said tilting his head to one side, “are going to be our backup, in case not everything goes the way we want it.”
“Another one of your plan for the worst, hope for the best situations?”
“Absolutely. That’s what makes the Special Forces special. Imagining all the ways a plan can go wrong, then making sure there’s a plan for that, too.”
Sturgis opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Nope, not going to get into trouble with your girl, Snowflake.”
“Your politeness is refreshing,” she told him.
“Not being polite, cautious. Any woman who can survive being blown up four times and keep up with Snowflake here, is not someone I want to cross.”
“Wait until you see her with in a hazmat suit,” River said, with a laugh. “She’ll scare the shit out of you.”
“So, what do we need to get this plan in motion?” Sturgis asked.
River’s chuckle was full of bad news for someone. “A cell phone.”