“What’s wrong with him?” Wilbur asked.
“I don’t know, but you better wash your hands. The last thing I need is to get what he has,” Gordon said as he examined his hands.
As soon as Gordon sat in the passenger seat he passed out from exhaustion. He didn’t know how long he had been asleep when Christopher shook him awake.
“Gordon, wake up!” Christopher barked.
“Huh! What? What is it?” Gordon said, sitting up and alert.
“It’s the vice president, he’s gotten worse,” Christopher said, pointing to Cruz’s sickly frame in the back. Christopher had pulled them off the road.
“Where are we?” Gordon asked, looking around. The sun was still high in the sky, so they couldn’t have gone too far.
“I saw a sign a mile back that said Hines, seven miles,” Christopher said.
“Hines? Where’s the map?” Gordon asked, looking around the front of the Hummer.
“We need to find him a doctor!” Wilbur yelled at Gordon.
Gordon turned around and looked at her, then at Cruz.
Cruz looked lifeless. He hadn’t moved since they had dumped him in the seat earlier. His sweating had increased and when he opened his eyes, the whites were now almost entirely red.
“Major, in the back is a trauma kit. Grab it and let’s look through there for anything we can give him that will help,” Gordon commanded.
She jumped out and ran toward the back.
“Here’s the map,” Christopher said excitedly as he handed it to Gordon.
“Hines… we must still be in Oregon,” he said out loud as he opened up the map. “Here it is!” Gordon yelled out as he found the town on the map. “Damn! That’s a small town and we don’t know if we’ll find help there.”
Wilbur rushed to Gordon’s door with the trauma kit and handed it to him. He snatched it out of her hands and fished through it until he discovered Motrin.
“This will help with his fever for now,” Gordon said, taking two capsules and giving them to her.
Giving Cruz the Motrin was not easy. After several attempts he was able to swallow. His symptoms looked like the flu, but it was difficult to determine without a doctor’s attention. Finding one wasn’t likely.
Gordon had to find a safe place for Cruz to rest. They pulled back on the road and headed toward Hines, Oregon.
All Gordon could think was, Shit, can’t anything go right, just once?
Nelson walked back into the house feeling defeated.
The sound of the heavy door closing sent Samantha rushing to see him. When she saw him empty-handed a wave of emotions cascaded over her.
“This can’t be happening again. This can’t be!”
Nelson didn’t know how to answer her cries. He hadn’t slept one minute the entire night. He and Eric had walked for what seemed like endless ice-cold miles looking for Haley but no clues presented themselves.
As Samantha sat crying, Nelson walked past her and into the kitchen. There wasn’t anything he could say or do to ease her pain aside from walking in with Haley.
Samantha didn’t blame Nelson, but she didn’t need to. His own self-loathing was enough to make him feel like a failure.
Over and over again he reenacted what he thought could have happened in the barn. In his mind’s eye, he saw her feeding Macintosh. Her sweet voice gently serenading him. Her attention to detail as she made sure each carrot she fed him wasn’t too big. Then he saw the fear, the sheer terror she must have felt when whoever took her came at her. He wondered if she had any notice. Was she hiding from them or was she surprised? The thought of her somewhere now, terrified, crying out for Samantha or him, ate him up inside.
The lack of sleep in over twenty-four hours was making him feel delirious. But taking a few hours to rest meant a few hours not looking for her. Determined to find her, he motivated himself to go back out and try to find a shred of evidence in the barn. He stood up, weary, and left a tormented Samantha crying in the other room.
His eyes were heavy and his thoughts were becoming garbled. He slapped himself in the face to wake up.
Entering the barn, he went back to Macintosh’s stall. There he found the horse happy and unaware that his friend was missing.
“Hey, boy,” he said, petting the horse on the head. “What happened? Where is she? God, I wish you could tell me what happened.”
“There’s a hospital in the area called Burns. It’s just a few miles away,” Gordon shouted out after finding the icon signifying hospital on the map.
“Good, let’s hurry,” Wilbur responded.
“Don’t get too excited. The chances that it’s open are slim but we might be able to find some supplies there,” Gordon said.
“Gordon, we might have a problem. Up ahead!” Christopher said, a touch of apprehension in his voice.
A manned roadblock stood between them and the town.
“Christopher, stop and turn around!” Gordon commanded
“No, we have to keep heading toward the hospital!” Wilbur challenged him.
“We don’t know if those people are friend or foe. What I don’t need is to find out they don’t like us, and we’ll all need to go to the hospital. Turn around now!” Gordon yelled at Christopher.
Trusting in Gordon’s experience over Wilbur’s, Christopher slowed and made a U-turn.
“Where to now?”
“I don’t know, maybe there’s another way around,” Gordon said, looking at the map, trying to find a detour.
“Hey, there’s a car coming after us!” Christopher said.
Gordon looked into his side mirror and saw the car gaining on them.
“Turn down this street!” Gordon ordered. “Now pull over up there.”
Christopher did exactly what Gordon ordered. Wilbur prattled on, questioning every step.
“Major, please just shut the fuck up and get ready to fight,” Gordon barked at her. “Take this,” he said to Christopher, handing him a pistol.”
“I don’t understand why we’re stopping! If you think they’re bad, we should try to outrun them!” Again Wilbur challenged Gordon.
“I don’t have time to explain.”
Christopher pulled over and stopped.
The Hummer hadn’t stopped for a millisecond and Gordon was out of the vehicle, M4 at the ready.
“I am so tired of this!” he said as he slammed the door and took up a position, ready for the car to make the turn in its pursuit of them.
The car, a 1960 Ford Falcon, made the turn at a high rate of speed but began to slow down when the driver saw the Hummer pulled over.
Gordon was tired, frustrated, and all he wanted was for something to go right. “I really don’t have time for this shit!” He took aim on the windshield and began to shoot. After a half dozen shots, the car swerved and crashed into a telephone pole. “You see what happens. You just had to follow us, didn’t you? You just couldn’t leave us alone, you dumb fuck!” he said out loud. He shot a few more times at the car.
Steam billowed out of the crushed front end as the coolant hit the hot engine.
Gordon paused to see if anyone was moving. He walked over to the car and looked inside to find two men, both dead. Not one to miss out on an opportunity, he opened the car door and grabbed their weapons, a Mossberg 12-gauge shotgun and a Winchester Model 70 bolt-action rifle. He quickly looked around for anything else of value but found nothing. He took a step back and looked at the car. “Where do they get these cars from?”
As he was running back to the Hummer, a few townspeople stepped out of their homes, curious to see what had happened. “Go back inside or I’ll kill you!” Gordon yelled at them. He wasn’t serious, but then again, who knew what this day would bring.