There was more. More damage.
Quinn’s brain skipped away, refusing to see, to know.
“Gran! Answer me!”
Gran coughed weakly. Her eyelids cracked open.
“You’re alive!”
“Quinn…”
“We’ve got to get you out of here!”
“There’s no time…”
“Yes, there is!”
“I need to tell you…”
“We just have to get you to the medical ward. To Evelyn. She’ll fix you. She can fix this. Just hold on—”
“Quinn.”
“I have to get you to the bomb shelter. I can still get you there.”
“Hush, girl…”
Quinn tugged at her arm. “Come on! Get up!”
“Look at me, Quinn.”
Despite her best efforts not to, Quinn looked. Blood everywhere. Shredded clothing. Torn flesh. A glimpse of exposed bone.
A horrified whimper escaped her lips.
“I’m not going anywhere…that monster cut up my legs real good.”
“We’ll fix you. Evelyn can fix you.”
“I don’t feel a thing,” Gran mumbled. “No pain, bless the Lord.”
Quinn’s eyes burned. Tears seared her cheeks.
“Truth be told…thought I’d go out…in a blaze of glory.” Gran coughed up blood. A fine mist sprayed Quinn’s cheek. “Not like…this.”
“Don’t talk, Gran. Save your strength.”
“And here I had an amazing death speech all planned out…but I’m so tired…just tired.”
“No, Gran,” Quinn whimpered. “Please, no.”
Gran stretched out a trembling hand and attempted to wipe the blood away. It smeared Quinn’s face. She didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but Gran.
“Don’t die on me.”
“You just remember…remember…”
Quinn wrapped her hand over Gran’s—weak and quivering, skin and veins stretched over thin bones. “You can’t die on me.”
Gran said something, too soft for Quinn to hear over the ringing in her ears. She bent low, clutching her grandmother’s hand.
“Lot of things to regret in this life…” Gran said. “Never you, girl…not for one second. Never you.”
Gran’s eyes rolled back in her head. Her papery eyelids fluttered.
Her chest hitched, shuddered, and fell still.
“No!” Quinn said. “No, no, no! Gran! Stay with me! No!”
Distant explosions rent the air. Gunfire like fireworks. Boom! Boom! Boom!
Rubble all around her. Fire and death and destruction. And the screaming.
The screaming would not end. It just went on and on until she understood that the scream was inside her own brain and still it would not stop.
Not Gran, not Gran.
This had to be another nightmare. It couldn’t be real.
But it was real. It was real and Gran was gone. The last of her family dead, and Quinn never even said I love you.
She rocked back and forth, weeping, screaming until her voice cracked, her throat raw. Grief and loss rolled over her in immense waves. She was drowning in it.
And then two hands grasped her shoulders and pulled her back. She fought against it, writhing, desperate to stay with Gran, to hold her, to bring her back from wherever she had gone.
Strong arms enveloped her, pulled her close.
Hannah’s voice in her ear, the only thing she could hear over her own stricken screams. “I have you, Quinn. I’ve got you. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Jonas was there, too. He’d never left.
Quinn collapsed into them both, allowed those arms to pull her up, to hold her, carrying her to safety.
42
Liam
Day One Hundred and Thirteen
Liam struggled up the hill, pulling at roots and tree branches.
His heavy go-bag slapped against his back. Cold sweat broke out on his brow. No matter how fast he ran, it wasn’t fast enough.
Fear constricted his chest, his heart tightening like a fist.
The Black Hawk had opened fire, releasing several salvos upon the defenseless townspeople. He had no idea how many casualties. Who they’d lost. Whether Hannah was okay.
The helo concentrated its fury upon downtown Fall Creek, sweeping Main Street, occasionally firing upon empty buildings as it circled out of range of the M60s.
The M2 fired its big gun, keeping the Black Hawk from making another run at the school.
His head on a swivel, Liam sprinted up the hill along a ridgeline south of Winter Haven to the west of town, between the river and the street. The hill was behind the buildings across from the high school—Brite Smiles Dental, the hair salon.