The First

Chapter 67

Ross understood Savannah's non-verbal hint from the fear reflected in her glazed over eyes. Though what she said vexed him. What had she inferred? Her respirations ceased, pupils dilated, and with a last exhale, the incredible being he'd fought side-by-side with gave him one last gift-a chance.

He'd left his weapons behind when he crawled over to check on Savannah, except for one. The second Desert Eagle 9mm pistol dangled in its holster under his left arm. Blood from his shoulder had covered the leather and the grip. When he whipped around and went for the weapon his fingers slipped. Maleia caught him by the throat and tossed him away from Savannah's body.

While in the air Ross squeezed off two rounds. The recoil, combined with his landing on his back, loosened his grip. He couldn't spin fast enough to catch the gun before it fell off the building.

Maleia seemed to ignore the new wounds in her left leg. Her concern lay in front of her. She sniffed the body. Then slowly pushed her hand into Savannah's chest.

"What the fuck?" Ross launched forward. He didn't care that he didn't have a weapon. A simple football tackle to catch her off guard and roll to his arsenal.

His shoulder crashed into her right side, knocking Savannah's still heart out of her hand. Before he could roll away, Maleia somersaulted back and landed on her feet. He balled his fist and swung. She caught his right wrist, lifted him into the air, and slammed him into the roof.

Ross found himself under a pile of rubble. The pressure and fifty caliber bullets had weakened the ceiling. But he hadn't hit the cement. Instead, his fingers wiggled against metal. He'd landed on top of the ambulance.

"Goddammit." A piece of metal from the roof had pierced his right side. The hair on his chest and stomach had matted down with blood in various stages of coagulation. Multiple tears in his pants had stained from the wounds within.

He grimaced as he pulled himself toward the back of the ambulance. Plan A busted when he found out Savannah wasn't pregnant. He couldn't have been more stupid with his quick football plan B. His new plan ... to get inside the ambulance, patch himself up, and hotwire the damn thing.

Maleia dropped onto the hood with a crunch. Her left leg buckled and she went to her hands and knees. Smears of blood stained the front windshield as she crawled toward him. Auburn locks plastered to her face covered her eyes.

Ross took hold of the top rung of the ladder. From nowhere came a last burst of energy. His body slipped over the side. The bulk of his weight dangled from his hand on the bar. He let go and dropped to the garage floor. Adrenaline kept him clawing, grasping at anything he could. Because outside the bay doors, he saw his salvation.

The Desert Eagle glinted in the light of many fires. Once outside of the garage, Ross took stock of the carnage. Dead Trills littered the streets of Philomath. Not only did the gas station burn, stores, houses, and barns did as well. He struggled to stand and fell twice before he staggered to his feet. The cold steel in his hand felt like life renewed.

"What is it about you?" a forceful whisper came from the wind behind him.

"For Christ's sake." Ross limped around.

Maleia stood on the roof. Her thick talon-like toenails clicked against the aluminum drain.

"I'm done with this shit. No more talking."

The first bullet hit Maleia in the left shoulder. Second and third hit her over the heart. As she stumbled out of his sight, Ross had a revelation. When Savannah died, she'd given him a cryptic message. Her eyes had glossed over and she'd touched her own stomach. Maybe she wasn't referring to herself? She'd pointed behind him and had fixed her eyes on Maleia, but not on her face.

Ross had to find out for himself. "Here we go."

He limped over to the ladder and headed up. If he was right, then Savannah really had saved them all. When he reached the roof, he did a quick check of the dead. Maleia's body had fallen against a metal air conditioner cover. She wasn't breathing but her body moved.

Ross knew what needed to be done. Though he wasn't sure how to do it. Aches and pains kept him from moving as swiftly as he would have liked. He knelt next to the bag of weapons and dug into it. There, he found a combat knife. It would do the trick.

"Sir. Let me look at that," a young man's voice came from the other side of the roof.

Ross pulled the knife from the bag, turned and saw a large soldier standing with an M16 in his hands. He wore a flight suit with a visor-less helmet. A soft, brown, pudgy, baby-faced boy, no more than eighteen or nineteen years old, smiled within.

"What's your name, soldier?" Ross bent over and picked up one of his Uzi's. He slapped the clip in.

"Reynolds, Sir."

"Your first name?"

"Gavin, Sir." He unzipped a fanny pack and pulled out a large strip of gauze, some tape, and scissors. "Now, let me look at your shoulder and side."

Ross couldn't help but think of his friend Beef. Gavin and Beef probably had nothing in common other than their pear-shaped bodies and giant hearts.

"Boy scout, eh?" Ross asked through gritted teeth.

Gavin pressed the gauze to Ross's shoulder. "Yes, Sir. Eagle Scout. USAF military police and Nationally Certified EMT-Intermediate."

"Didn't mean any offense."

"I didn't take any, sir."

"You can call me Ross."

"Yes, Sir. I mean, Ross."

"Hard habit to break."

"Sure is, Ross. I like that song."

Ross stood as Gavin wrapped it with the tape and made a sling from a bandanna he had in his pouch.

"Feel okay?"

Ross swung his arm up and down in the sling. The shoulder ached as if he'd chopped several cords of wood. "Great job, Gavin. But I need my hands for a few minutes. I'll just slip out." When he dropped his arm, the pain engulfed his entire left side. He couldn't let the pain detract him from his mission.

He swiped the knife from the ground where he'd left it while Gavin patched him up.

"What are you doing with that?" Gavin asked.

"You don't wanna know kid ... don't wanna know."

"Can I give you a hand? Looks like you're in the need of a left one."

Ross smiled. "Sure thing." He pointed the knife at Maleia, an unspoken question in its blade.

Gavin set his helmet down and nodded. "Yeah, I can help with that."

Please comment and vote. Getting close to the end now!!