Riposte (The Redivivus Trilogy Book 2) (14 page)

Carefully loading one of the two larger darts into the barrel of the rifle, he eased into a prone position and sighted through the rifle’s scope. While he had a clear bead on the older man and the woman, he thought it would be prudent to take out the younger soldier first. The shooter deduced he was likely to be the biggest threat, and as he was off by himself, he could be eliminated without alerting the other two. Unfortunately, he saw no sign of the younger soldier as he panned his scope around the area. As he debated his next move, a venomous smile returned to his face when he saw the soldier’s head pop up out of concealment. In a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “I got you now.” He checked to see that the rifle’s pressure control was set correctly for the target distance, and with a slow, controlled breath, he applied steady pressure to the trigger as he stared at the soldier’s neck through the scope.

Phmmmp! 

The gas that propelled the dart out of the gun’s barrel made a nearly inaudible hiss as it escaped. The shooter watched with wide-eyed excitement as the little projectile blazed a hot pink trail through the air as it sailed toward its target. In less than a second, the dart slammed into Corporal Rocha’s neck, and he swore he could almost see the tip of the needle as it punctured the skin. As it plunged farther beneath the surface, its savage barbs cutting deeply, the silicone sleeve was pushed back along the shaft of the needle. With the injection ports exposed, the pressurized contents sluiced out of the syringe and into the injured tissue of Corporal Rocha’s neck. The mixture went to work immediately, worming its way through the damaged cells and into the lacerated capillaries.

Less than one hundred yards away, hidden within the thick veil of the forest, the shooter’s devilish smile was replaced with maniacal glee as he watched the soldier react to the witch’s brew already working its way into his bloodstream.
It won’t be long now. Not long at all…
 

* * *

Corporal Rocha remained vigilant as he advanced slowly toward the place Lin had indicated. As he moved, he caught sight of a brief flicker of light, causing him to freeze in place and drop into a low crouch behind the trunk of a fallen tree.
Shit! They must have spotted me.
Rocha cautiously raised his head to see if he could gather any additional information about the nature of the person or persons ahead. All of a sudden, he felt a sharp sting on the back of his neck followed by an excruciating, all-consuming pain that radiated outward.

Eyes watering, he let out a feral growl in response to the intense burning sting, which was akin to being shot and then bitten by a bullet ant; he had firsthand experience with both. Reflexively, his hand shot up to his neck where it slammed into the small projectile, forcing the barbed needle deeper into the soft muscle of his neck. Once again, he howled in pain, albeit with less fervor this time. His whole world began to tilt slightly, canting from side to side as though he were on a boat on the stormy sea. No longer concerned about the potential threat ahead of him, he climbed to his feet like a drunk pulling himself out of the gutter at morning’s first light. Stumbling backward in the process, he felt the ground sliding out from under him or the world toppling over him—which one, he was not sure.

Everything shifted in and out of focus as he staggered toward the truck and his companions. He vaguely wondered if this was how a sleepwalker felt, both present and absent at the same time. His mouth opened as he tried to speak but he barely managed low rasping gurgles. Although it took every last ounce of effort left in his waning body, Corporal Rocha grabbed the dart and wrested it from his flesh. A faint blood spray erupted from the puncture wound as renewed pain roared through his synapses.

* * *

Lin looked up in confusion as the sickly Corporal stumbled back around the front of the truck. She let out an involuntary yelp at the sight of the man who had been in perfectly good condition when he left them mere moments ago.

The sound drew General Montes’ attention just in time to see Rocha slumping forward. Leaping to his aid, they caught him just before he hit the ground. Having never heard a shot, neither Montes nor Lin was certain of what happened to Corporal Rocha.

Cradling the man’s head in her lap, Lin felt something warm and sticky on the back of his neck. Her stomach recoiled when she withdrew her hand. With a gasp, she exclaimed, “Oh my God! He’s bleeding!”

Not wasting a second, General Montes threw the truck’s door open while simultaneously scanning their surroundings for the source of the attack. Grabbing Lin by the arm, he roughly shoved her into the truck. He then hoisted Corporal Rocha’s unmoving body into the backseat of the crew cab truck. A sharp, metallic ping resounded as something ricocheted off the jamb of his closing door. Dust sprayed out from behind the truck’s spinning tires as Montes floored the accelerator. “Stay down!” he shouted to Lin. He tried to do the same, all the while driving and keeping an eye on the spot where Lin had seen the potential attacker.

Cursing out loud, the man stood, no longer worried about remaining concealed. Seeing his men moving into position, he picked up his walkie-talkie. “Let them go,” he said calmly. Uninterested in their objections, he switched the radio off, gathered his gear, and began walking.

* * *

“What happened to him?” Lin cried from the back seat, where she sat next to a motionless Corporal Rocha. As soon as Montes had given her the
all clear
, she crawled back to tend to the wounded man. “What is going on? Who are these people, and why are they trying to kill us?”

From the tone of Lin’s voice, General Montes could tell that she could not handle much more. She was not trained for this; she was not used to conflict and death. The idea of men willingly risking their life for a greater good and those same men being injured and killed by bad people was not something she understood. It was as foreign to her as this horrid plague was to him.

“I’m not sure, Dr. San,” the General said honestly. “I did not see or hear anything until I heard you cry out. As far as I know, no one even knows we are here. Perhaps they are just lawless people behaving lawlessly now that no one is around to stop them. God help us all if that’s the case.”

Lin stared at the Brazilian soldier as tears poured from her weary eyes. Although Rocha had not moved since Montes dragged him into the truck, he was breathing and he had a pulse, albeit a thready one. Lin gently brushed his short-cropped hair away from his eyes, feeling completely helpless. The wound on his neck no longer bled, and she thought his shallow breathing might be getting stronger. After another minute he began to stir, slowly at first. Excitedly, Lin said, “He’s starting to move! He’s coming around!”

Lin gazed at Corporal Rocha through a veil of hopeful desperation. More than anything, she wanted him to open his eyes. She
needed
him to open his eyes. She needed to know there was some hope of seeing this thing through.

As if he was reading her mind, Corporal Rocha’s eyelids flickered several times before opening sluggishly to reveal his bewildered, bloodshot eyes. He tried to speak, but no words came to him. While the throbbing pain in his neck had diminished considerably, it now pulsed through his entire body as if it were flowing through his bloodstream. With every heartbeat, he felt the pain expanding—dragging him further under. Almost as soon as they opened, the weight of his upper eyelids became too great and he was plunged into darkness once again.

When his eyes opened the next time, the unendurable pain was gone. Inexplicably, he found himself sitting on a comfortable bed with his little girl wrapped tightly in his arms. She slept peacefully, and he gently rocked her back and forth as he sang a Portuguese lullaby with his eyes closed. ‘
Nana nenen.’
Her silken hair exuded an aromatic bouquet as he ran his calloused fingers through it. The humid warmth of her breath against the bare skin of his neck made him shiver slightly each time she exhaled. ‘
Fica bem bem.’
He could not recall a time in his life when he felt as happy as he did in that instance.
‘Perto do meu coraco.’
In the distance, he heard a low rumble followed by rough movement that tugged on him from somewhere very far away. Voices, so faint and indistinct that he wondered if they were even real, echoed through the recesses of his mind.

With great reluctance, his eyes flitted open once again; he was greeted with the same unimaginable pain that was devouring his body from the inside out. It was as though the devil’s dirty fingernails clawed deep gouges in his very soul. Frantically, he peered around but saw no trace of his beautiful daughter or the comfortable bed. He saw movement—a man and a woman. Although they looked familiar, he could not place a name on them with any degree of certainty. Seeing no other means of escape from the agony of the hellish nightmare, he let his eyes drift closed and greeted the merciful darkness with open arms.

Again he sat on the bed, and though it was still comfortable, it was different, as if a dozen filthy people had slept in it since he was last there. His eyes were closed, and he still rocked his little girl in his arms. Although he tried to sing, his voice was little more than a hoarse rasp. ‘
Fica assim perto de mim.’
Despite the vivid nature of the scene, he wondered if he might be dreaming.
Can a dream be so beautiful, yet so malign, at the same time?

‘Se ano tem bicho papão.’

What he saw when he opened his eyes made him pray it was all just a dream—some terrible nightmare cooked up by his sick and dying brain. Nestled in his lap were the eviscerated remains of the thing that had once been his beautiful daughter. Her previously warm breath now felt cold, and possessed the fetid odor of perforated bowel and gangrenous flesh. Disgusted, he thrust the abomination away as he glanced around with wide-eyed terror.

Looking down, he discovered he was holding the small unicorn suncatcher. The sight of such a beautiful thing—little more than a trinket made by a child—amidst such vile darkness brought tears to his eyes. In a matter of moments, the deluge was so great he thought he would drown if that were possible. He watched with abject horror as the suncatcher dissolved under the cascade of tears, washing away like chalk on the pavement during a rainstorm.

As the last bright speck of color vanished, Rocha felt an undeniable change at the very core of his being. From a place so far away it seemed like another planet, he heard the plaintive cries of a woman in pain.

* * *

“We need to stop! He’s getting worse!” Lin pleaded.

Scanning the area for a safe place to pull off the road, Montes noted a break in the tree line less than a mile ahead on the right. As they drew closer, he saw an abandoned convenience store that appeared to have been destroyed by fire before the plague ever ravaged the land. Slowing to a crawl, he searched for any sign of danger but saw none. Cautiously, he pulled into the small gravel parking lot that was fast being reclaimed by weeds and wildflowers. All around were expansive fields of tall grass that swayed lazily in the breeze. It looked like pasture land used for animal grazing, though none were in sight. He knew stopping was a risk given that they had been attacked twice already, but there was no choice if what Lin said was true. The truck’s tires kicked up a thick plume of dust from the loose gravel and Montes worried it might broadcast their location to anyone watching. He only hoped they had travelled far enough that anyone in pursuit would not be close enough to see it. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

Pulling to a stop, General Montes hopped out of the cab with his sidearm held discretely at his side. If anyone was inside the derelict store, he did not want to give the wrong impression in case they happened to be friendly. On the other hand, he was enough of a realist that he was not willing to go unarmed. He told Lin to stay with Rocha while he investigated the building. After a couple of tense minutes, Montes returned to tell her that the place was clear and they moved Corporal Rocha’s ailing body into the old store. Although he had no idea of the nature of his infirmity, it was clear to Montes that his old friend was engaged in the most significant battle of his life. Easing the injured man to the floor, Montes directed his gaze toward Lin. “I know you are a doctor, but do you have any medical training?” he asked with hope burning in his eyes.

Almost imperceptibly, Lin dipped her head toward the floor as she said, “Unfortunately, no. My doctorate is in neurobiology not medicine, but we can still try to help him.”

Wordlessly, General Montes replied with a grave nod. In actuality, there was little they, or anyone else, could do to ease Rocha’s suffering. That fact would not have changed even if they had a team of world-renowned physicians and all the requisite medical supplies at their disposal. While neither Lin nor Montes knew it, Corporal Rocha was far past the point of being helped by modern medicine. The dart had cause irreparable damage to his body. Had they known and accepted this, things might have turned out differently.

They watched helplessly as Corporal Rocha’s languid stirrings grew steadily weaker and less frequent. Lin held a cloth moistened with the last of their precious water against his scorching hot forehead as she whispered gentle words of encouragement. Such was the case for the next several hours. Lin tended to the sick man as best she could while Montes kept a keen eye on their surroundings. She could not help but picture her brother, Kang, lying on the floor when she looked at Corporal Rocha’s still form.