𓂓
Michael looked at Sean, then turned to look down the hallway at the fallen forms of Jackie and Clay. “Go get Martha and the med kit. See if you can help them.”
Sean nodded and ran out of the hall. Unwilling to concede defeat, Michael moved into the room and raised his Glock as he walked cautiously toward the hatch. He gave himself a narrow line of sight and walked an arc around the opening to check if it was being covered from below. Then he stepped back and lowered to his stomach, sliding himself up to the opening as flat as he could. He stopped just short of looking in and listened. He heard Elena’s cries from down the tunnel. He listened a second more and they seemed to be fading. ABCs was moving through the tunnel away from the hatch. Maybe he could steal in without being shot.
Michael poked his head over the edge and gave a quick look around. It was dimly lit by a string of lights. Scanning around, he didn’t see anything, so he swung his legs over and set them on the steps of a homemade ladder and lowered himself down, wincing from the pain of his wounds as he moved. Standing in the tunnel system, he was stricken for a moment. He’d read all about them but scarcely believed the stories. Now he stood in one. So many souls had passed through here as they were taken to and from a life of misery.
Resolve welling up in him, Michael’s training as an officer took over. He raised his weapon and moved through the tunnel in the direction of Elena’s voice.
𓂓
Martha hustled across the dilapidated basketball court, shuffling through trash and debris that had been scattered all over. Sean followed closely with the med kit, his rifle slung over his shoulder. When they got to the door, Sean reached in front of her and pulled the door open. They hurried down the hall toward the dim light, slowing as they passed the fallen form of the guard.
Martha paused, clearly shocked by what she saw. Jackie had begun to stir as they knelt next to her. Her face was covered in blood and a gash across her forehead had begun to scab. Martha steeled herself, then knelt and surveyed her injuries. She found the bullet wound under her arm. Jackie moaned as she rolled her over onto her back. Martha gasped loudly at the sight of Jackie’s wounded leg. Shaken, she gathered herself, found the sanitary towels, and started cleaning the wounds.
Sean had moved over to Clay, who wasn’t showing any signs of life. He lay on his side. His face covered in blood from another open wound on the side of his head. Sean looked down and saw his blood-soaked shirt. They had only one vest and decided Michael should wear it since Clay found it too stifling. Knowing he’d probably have to resort to hand-to-hand combat with Evan’s assistance, Clay had passed on the vest. Sean checked and found a weak pulse.
Sean turned to Martha. “He has gunshot wounds in the side of his chest and stomach. He’s lost a lot of blood.”
“Look to see if the bullets came out the back,” Martha said.
Sean rolled Clay to him a little. “It looks like it, but there’s so much blood, I can’t really tell.”
Unaccustomed to treating combat casualties, Martha had to gather her thoughts. “We have to stop the bleeding. From what I understand, most people can be treated for the injuries but it’s loss of blood in the field while they wait that usually gets them.”
Sean nodded and reached into the duffel for the clotting gauze and gel he would need to dress Clay’s wounds. He and Martha worked in silence for several minutes doing the best they could to patch up Jackie and Clay.
Jackie had begun to wake up, groaning as Martha wrapped her arm with the gauze. As if from a deep sleep, Jackie jolted. Her eyes shot open wild and feral. She squirmed on the floor as if still fighting. “Calm down, dear,” Martha said. “We are cleaning your wounds.”
“Whe-where is Elena?” Jackie asked.
Martha did not reply.
Sean looked over, hesitated, then decided full disclosure was best. “ABCs pulled her into the tunnels.”
Martha had only a second to glare at him before Jackie reacted.
“No! Oh, God. We have to go after her.” Jackie tried to push herself up, but fell back, eyes unfocused as the room spun around her.
Martha clasped Jackie’s shoulders. “You’re in no condition. Besides, Michael has gone down after them.”
Jackie groaned again, her head hammering from the pain. She continued to move her arms defensively. In the bustle, Clay had begun to stir. He was still lying on his side as Sean finished dressing his wounds. “I think I have all the bleeding stopped, is there anything else I can do?
Martha looked at Clay. “I don’t think so. Best to leave him still until Michael returns.”
As if aware he was the topic of discussion, Clay rolled over on his back and opened his eyes. Sean leaned back in shock when he saw the faint white glow emanating from them. Clay still had his connection with Evan.
“Jackie,” he uttered in a tinny, otherworldly voice.
Jackie froze, not recognizing the garbled voice at first. It did not sound like Clay. “Help me up,” she implored Martha.
“Dear, I don’t think...”
“Please!”
Martha complied by grabbing the hand of her uninjured arm and placing her other hand behind Jackie’s head. She lifted her up to a seated position and helped slide her over to Clay/Evan. Jacquelyn looked into his eyes and saw staring back at her blurs of white light as Evan cycled in and out of Clay’s consciousness.
“I’m not sure how long I can hold this,” Evan spoke through Clay in that same tinny voice. “We did everything we could, but he just couldn’t...” Clay coughed. Bloody saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth.
Jackie reached out to him, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Evan. We lost Elena in the tunnels. Michael is searching for her.” At the admission, she dropped her head on Clay’s chest, sobbing softly.
Evan reached out with Clay’s arm and rested it on her shoulder. “He will find her. He must. You have to... You have to have faith. I know that now.”
Clay coughed again as the light in his eyes faded. Jackie sensed the departing and slid herself closer. Racked with regret, she cried out loud, “There’s so much I want to say. I wish I’d done more for you. I’m so glad you came back to help us!” She moved her face in front of his, nose-to-nose, and with support from Martha, put her hands on either side of Clay’s face as if giving Evan one last look into her deep blue eyes. She pushed her forehead gently against his as the lights in his eyes went out, and Clay’s arms fell limp to the floor.
Jackie sobbed as she spoke, “I’ll always remember you for this, fighting the wickedness in this world even from beyond death.” Martha and Sean put their arms around Jackie, shedding tears of their own for Clay and Evan.
As they huddled together on the floor, a family forged in the trials of life, noises from around them seeped back in. Sean lifted his head as he heard what sounded like thunder in the distance—a low constant thrumming.
Martha sat up also, thinking she heard movement from the room to her left. She stood, leaving Jackie hunched over Clay, and moved to the door. She pressed her ear against it as Sean stood and moved over to the window to look outside. Martha heard murmurs. She looked down to find a bolt lock. Without thinking, she turned the bolt and opened the door to find two women standing together in the near corner.
“It’s okay,” Martha said. “He’s gone.”
𓂓
Evan was torn from the scene at Little Guantanamo. His connection with Clay had been severed. He now found himself In Between, some distance from the shores of the Ocean of Tar.
With the gray mountains behind him, he moved toward the ocean. Unsure why, a sense of urgency drove him. As he neared the shores, he could see the wound in the glassy surface oozing black sticky liquid. It was now under siege by an untold number of malevolent entities. Hundreds of them swirled below the surface, thousands below them, faces twisted in rabid fits, running themselves into the gash, testing it. After impact, wild eyes would sink down, dazed after each attempt, leaving room for those below to make their charge.
