16: Addison

Addison

 

 

      She stirred. It was not sleep that held her, but something akin to it, a swimming state of blending consciousness and unconsciousness. Every joint groaned. Her muscles were stiff and sore. She was no longer bleeding, but from her inner thighs up through her pelvis ached. The blinding floodlights had been distracting at first, but now they no longer bothered her. She was on her side, tracing the pebbles and bumps of the asphalt with her finger as she dozed.

          Her head twitched and it scared her to full alertness. Her eyes were wide but the world was blurry. As they focused, she saw hands she hardly recognized. The skinny fingers were crusted with dirt and small smears of blackening blood. Her fingernails were chipped, black crescents of filth gathering under them.

          "Drift now, baby, off to sleep," she sung softly to herself, her voice high and cracking. "I'll always love you, my sweet. Go now, love, to worlds untold. Rest now as your dreams unfold. When you wake, I'll be here. So go on now, sleep well, my dear."

          Stinging tears welled at the corner of her eyes as she sang the lullaby to herself. A long time ago, or perhaps in another lifetime, her mother had sung that to her. Her mother had never been a good singer, but whenever she heard that song it sounded like the most melodious tune in the world. Even when she was a little older, five and six, when she'd have nightmares, her mother would go into her room and sing her the lullaby while stroking her hair. Now her hair was greasy, tangled, and grit clung to her scalp. More than anything she wanted to sit under a shower head until all the dirt and shame swirled down the drain.

          Her throat was drying. She didn't realize that much of the headache she was experiencing was stemming from the beginning of dehydration. There was no motivation. No drive. She felt like a shell of a human. Her eyes slowly began to flutter shut.

          A burst of energy slammed into her body and her ears began to ring. She rolled onto her back and screamed, pressing the heels of her palms to her ears. Radiant orange and gold so bright it dimmed the floodlights plumed in the sky. Heat blared against her exposed skin. She thought of the fireball over the causeway, the origin event of everything that now consumed her thoughts. She screamed louder, tears streaming freely.

          She could not hear the shouts, screams, or desperately fleeing vehicles over the triumphant roar of the billowing inferno. The ground shook again, and again, and again as more explosions erupted nearby. With every detonation she felt as if a wave of pressure was slamming into her chest and rattling her innards. Rapidly the air became saturated with the a pungent odor that stung her nostrils. It was akin to gunpowder but not quite the same. Addison lay in the parking lot, chest heaving. When the detonations ceased, she allowed herself to open her eyes. A wall of smoke illuminated by spreading fires rose from near the beachhead. Several vehicles were flipped with axels askew and debris littered the streets. Part of the Ron Jon Surf Shop had collapsed, and most of the adjacent parking garage was missing massive chunks. Soldiers and vehicles were desperately trying to escape the multi-tiered garage.

          A few of the floodlights over the chainlink prison were flickering. A nearby generator sputtered then popped like a mechanical cork. Sparks and black smoke rose. The lights died, but no one aside from the prisoners seemed to notice or care. Addison sat up, for the time oblivious to the dull pain the coursed through her.

          Another roar took to the air. It was not like the abrupt, violent sound like the ones that were accompanied with fireballs. It was deep grumble that growled into the deep of the night. Clouds of dust sprayed out around the concrete structure of the parking garage. Men called out as the weight became too much for the damaged supports and the entire structure buckled. Loud thunder clapped as tons of concrete and steel fell in upon itself, crushing both man and machine under its mass. The huge garage was lost in a veil of dust that rolled outwards.

          Suddenly, her breathing became very shallow and rapid. Her heart thrummed so fast she wondered if it would burst. In the new-fallen darkness, the only light came from the fires. Men screamed, she could hear them now. No guards remained around the fence. There were other things to take care of. Addison pushed herself to her feet, feeling her body become drunk on a new vigor that she hadn't felt since she ran away as her parents were beaten and bound over twenty-four hours ago. Her eyes never left the wreckage on A1A. Hesitantly, she took a step backwards. Then another. It didn't take many before she felt the criss-cross of thin metal press into her skin. It rattled in the tell-tale high clink of a fence. She gasped and froze, sure the sound would draw unwanted attention.

          But it didn't. No one paid any mind to a thin, dirty sixteen year old girl with her back against the fence. With panicky clumsiness, she turned around and grasped the fence. She pulled herself upwards, sticking a foot into the diamond-shaped openings. The fence squeaked and chattered as she hoisted herself up higher. Her arms protested, but she ignored them. Higher she climbed. The thin fence swayed more the higher she went. Apprehensively, she looked up at the coils of razor wire that were almost invisible in the minimal light. She wasn't sure how she was going to surmount them, but it was too late to turn back now. She would rather die squirming in a twist of razor blades than endure another series of rapes.

          She reached up and found the top of the fence. Incredibly thin blades grazed against the top of her hands, flirting with her knuckles. The coils were in loops a foot tall with blades every few inches. She gently pushed up on the wire which lifted without any real difficulty. It was hardly secured and hastily set up. She looked back down and saw she was still unnoticed, but she knew that wouldn't last forever. Addison turned her hand palm up and pushed against the wire. She felt paper-thin cuts opening on her skin that stung with biting clarity. Whimpering, she ducked her head under the arch she had made and slid it through. Her leg was next, but her knee didn't get through without receiving several cuts. Her body was now teetering equally on either sides of the fence. As soon as she shifted her weight, she almost let go of the fence and fell. In her effort to release the wire, she ended up gliding much of her hand along one of the blades.

          She let out a small cry but held on to the fence. Warm fluid smeared across her palm and stuck to the cool metal. Her hand throbbed, but Addison tried to ignore it as she descended. She jumped the last few feet.

          Freedom. She had another opportunity. Another chance. She thought about the people still within the fence with a pang of guilt, but cleared the thought away. If they wanted to escape, they had just as much opportunity as she did. Addison turned on her heels and ran.

          Her feet slapped the asphalt. Sweat pushed from her pores. Her lungs burned but it was a sweet pain. It was a pain that meant she was seizing a chance. The Winn-Dixie plaza that she was so familiar with looked as alien as Mars. Windows were broken, the oriental food mart had racks of food spilling from its doorway, and the sign of the McDonald's nearby was bent at a sharp angle.

          She was about to move behind the oriental mart when something caught her eye. Bottles of water lay scattered near the door. She paused, only for a moment, and looked at them. The dryness in her throat and the perspiration dampening her skin became much more noticeable. "S**t," she whispered and darted for them. She scooped up two, pivoted, and continued sprinting, desperate to get out of the line of sight. At any moment, she feared she'd feel a hail of bullets shred her.

          But none did.

          She made it to the large two story Dinosaur Store, a mammoth building amongst the smaller businesses around it. The side of it was adorned with a dinosaur skeleton under giant red lettering. In the absence of light, the giant tyrannosaur bones loomed over her like a waiting predator. She turned her eyes away from it. Unscrewing one of the water bottles, she gasped for breath. Water trickled out the sides of her mouth and down her chin. After a few swallows, she replaced the cap with a shaking hand. She could feel the gaze of the giant vacant eyes of the extinct monster and hurried down the road without looking back.

          The gentle lapping of the river could be heard as she stumbled west in the brush beside the road. The 520 road had four near consecutive causeways; the first connected the beachside to a small chunk of land with the Wuesthoff hospital, the second, the hospital to another jut of land that extended from Merritt Island notable for the Walmart, the third connected to Merritt Island entire, and the fourth that connected Merritt Island to the mainland was smoldering ruins. Addison had reached the first causeway. It was a little more than a half-mile from the Dinosaur Store, but even just being this far made her feel so much safer. The four lane road had several vehicles that were dark and abandoned. Doors were open, a few had crashed into the guardrails or other cars. Some still smoked, and Addison could smell the faint trace of burning rubber.

          The tall grasses hissed about her ankles as she slunk through them. She turned to look behind her and her foot caught something solid in the grass. She cried in surprise as she almost fell forward. In the darkness should could barely make out the shape but she didn't have time to focus. A hand grabbed the front of her shirt and yanked her down. Now she did scream in earnest. A gloved hand pressed against her mouth. She struggled against the arm and found it surprisingly easy to move. It wasn't like the other ones that had grabbed her the past few days, strong and unmoving. This one was weak and submissive.

          "Shh," a small, weak voice said. "Or you'll end up getting us both killed."

          Addison lay on top of a man who wore heavy gear that poked and pushed into her stomach. She could feel his breathing. Slowly her pale frame rose as he inhaled and fell as he exhaled. She could feel herself shaking, but it wasn't the blind terror as it was before. Something was different. She wasn't being attacked. Whoever this man was too weak. Too battered.

          She tried to push herself off, she'd leave the Russian for dead, but the voice spoke up again. "Wait, kid."

          "No," she said. "I'm not doing anything for you. You've ruined my life! You've taken my family! You're all monsters!" She pushed upwards but no hands grabbed for her.

          "I'm not one of them," the voice said. She could heard an almost liquid quality in the sound.

          "Save it," she snapped, fully up on her feet.

          "Kid," he rasped. "Kid, I'm part of the U.S. Army. I'm on your side."

          Addison paused. She wanted to believe it, she really did. But it was too easy. Any Russian who spoke English could easily say he was part of the United States. It'd be an easy ploy. She couldn't afford to be reckless. She had made it out of her prison which meant she had come too far to make stupid mistakes.

          She took off down the road, realizing that she had dropped both her water bottles when she nearly tripped over the body. Her first thought was to forget it and the man, but her feet slowed regardless. What if he had been telling the truth? What if he really was an American soldier?

          Now she stopped.

          Addison stood where the asphalt met the dirt, a foot in either, pondering her options. Stooping down, she brushed the dirt with her fingertips until they found the jagged edge of a rock. She closed her hand around it. It wasn't large, but she wouldn't need much to get away. Rolling the stone along her fingers, she slowly stepped back toward the brush that lined the road and the river. The dark mass hadn't moved. It was hardly noticeable so close to the bushes. Anyone nearby would have simply disregarded it if they even saw it at all. It was only because she fell face first into it that she knew it was there. As she approached closer, her hand tightened over the rock.

          She knelt a few feet away from his head. "Give me your dogtags," she said, her voice much more authoritive than she actually felt.

          The man let out a harsh laugh that quickly degenerated into a pained cough. "You've got guts little girl, I'll give you that much."

          "I'm not a little girl. If you want my help, give me your dog tags. I could just as easily walk away and leave you here to die."

          "So do it." The voice had gone cold. "If you left me here to die, I wouldn't give two s***s. What I do give a s**t about is those Russian soldiers finding me. So go, you're only bringing attention to us."

          Addison stared in disbelief at the man in front of her. She reached forward with her left hand, the right with the rock upraised. His skin was clammy and damp. She found his jaw and moved her fingertips slowly down his neck. He didn't fight her or struggle. A thin metal chain composed of tiny spheres rest against his neck. She gripped it tightly and tugged on it. Two tags with black silencers emerged from beneath his undershirt which was barely visible behind a jacket top and armor. Still, the man didn't struggle. His face barely even moved.

          Addison attempted to pull the chain over the man's head, but his helmet was too wide. She tried again, a little more forcefully and the man groaned.

          "It fastens in the back. Little metal clasp."

          She slid her fingers along the chain until she found the small clasp and pushed it. It made a small pop as it released. The chain slithered like a miniscule snake from the man's neck. Addison ran the pad of her thumb across the indented lettering. She brought the oval tags closer to her eyes to inspect them, but it was too hard to read. She strained her eyes, willing them to focus. They didn't.

         There was a soft clicking sound and the man held out what looked like half a set of binoculars. The single-eye optic was a matte black and encased in a rubber grip. His fingers fumbled with a small circular knob on the side of it. "Use this."

          Cautiously she grabbed it. It was much heavier than she expected it to be. Addison put the circular opening to her eye.

          "Other way," the man groaned. Slightly embarrassed, she flipped the device and her world suddenly became a glowing green. Everything was defined in the dark. It wasn't crystal clear, but it was multiple steps up from unaided vision. In her new green sight, the indentations of the dog tag were easily legible.

          The first line read GILLESPIE.

          The second, DAMIAN S.

          The third was a nine-digit number.

          The fourth and final line: NO PREFERENCE.

          Addison flipped it over, then felt incredibly stupid because the words were made through indentation. She looked at the other tag, but it was identical. "This doesn't say United States or anything," she said, almost pleadingly. "Just a name, some numbers, and no preference, whatever that means."

          "I guess you'll just have to take my word for it, kid." He pointed to a rectangle of velcro on the chest of his vest. "I usually keep my American flag patch right here."

          She frowned. "Where is it now?"

         "I gave it to someone," he said, his voice softer. She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't.

          She removed the night vision from her eye and gave it back to him. The rock slipped from her fingers. "Just tell me something," she pleaded, "so I can trust you."

          "Get out of here," he said. "Those bombers shook them up, but if anything we just kicked a small hornets nest that is only getting larger. Go on, hurry."

          "What about you?"

          "I can handle myself, trust me." He let out a low laugh.

          "You can barely move. I'm getting you out of here." She moved to put her arms under him but he grabbed her skinny wrist. Addison looked up with wide eyes. The man named Damian Gillespie was smiling weakly at her.

          "I may have neck or spine damage, moving me would be a bad idea."

          "Leaving you here would be, too. The sun will be up in a few hours, what if they find you?"

          The man let out another raspy laugh. "Kid, there's no if to that statement. I just hope I can take a few with me. I do that, then I can die with satisfaction."

          Addison felt herself becoming flushed. "F**k that," she said, her voice getting louder than she had anticipated. "I'm taking you out of here. If I can help you, then maybe you'll be able to help me."

          "Keep your voice down. What exactly do you intend?" He started to cough and wiped at his mouth. Addison noticed a dark smear. "Kid, I swear to God if you don't get out of here right now."

         "You'll what?" she said with defiance. "Shoot me? Call out to the Russians? You can't do s**t. Stop trying to order me around. I'm not a soldier and I'm trying to help you."

          "You said it yourself, you don't even know if you can trust me. I'm not telling you again, get the f**k out of here before you get yourself killed."

          Addison thought of how she ran when her parents told her to, and for that, she had to live with the shadowing memory of them being beaten. She should have stayed with them, but she ran. She choose the easy path and let her parents endure the pain.

          "No. If our situations were reversed, would you leave me?"

          "Without a second thought," he replied without hesitation. "There are bigger things at work here than you or me."

          "There's nothing at work if we're dead." Addison looked around at the vehicles that lingered in the street. Most had some degree of damage and none could start. "There's got to be something around here. Can you stand?"

          "Maybe, but I have no intention of trying. If my back is broken and I try to move it, I could seriously f**k, I mean mess up my whole body.'

          She crossed her arms across her chest. "You were just saying you were good for dead, anyway." She glanced around nervously, but they remained very much alone. "Now you're changing your story? Now it's that you're too scared to try?"

          Damian frowned deeply at her. It was almost a scowl that brought his eyebrows in and creases formed on his cheeks. His voice was stern and unwavering. "What do you know about fear?"

          His look chilled her, but his words also struck a cord. "What do you know about me? What? Because I'm not in a uniform I don't know fear? Or is it because I'm just old enough to drive?" Addison felt tears starting to sting her eyes. Not wanting to show him, she turned and took a few steps away. "I'm just some weak little girl, yet I stopped to help the strong fearless soldier who is lying uselessly in the dirt because he gave up on his life. So you tell me who's more brave, a*****e."

          Her throat closed as she walked away. She tried to control her breathing but it still came in hollow, uneven rasps. It seemed right to keep herself calm, yet part of her just wanted to scream.

          "Kid," a voice said.

          She debated just continuing to walk. If that man wanted to die so much, who was she to stop him?

          Reluctantly, she turned over her shoulder. Damian was propped up on his elbows, his upper body just slightly off the ground. His face contorted as he pushed himself up. It was a slow, pained movement, but movement nonetheless. He started to falter and she ran to him. She put an arm across the back of his shoulders to help lift him. Her shoulders and arms felt so brittle under the incredible weight of Damien's body, armor, and gear. He felt like an organic container of lead.

          "Thanks," he grunted as he pulled himself into a full sitting position. "F**k."

          "Broken?" she asked quietly, the fervor in her voice no longer existent.

          "Not my spine," he groaned. "I wouldn't be surprised if I cracked a few ribs and I know I'm bleeding somewhere internally. The question is how bad? F**k!" He leaned forward, looking weak.

          "Tell me what to do," Addison said softly. "Tell me what to do now."

          There was a long period of silence where she could only watch as his shoulders heaved with every breath. Then he spoke, but she couldn't understand him.

          "A cart," he said again. "See if you can find some kind of cart."