Page 41 of A Wilderness Within

“She’s alive!” Lincoln hissed. “The baby’s alive! We need to get her upstairs, away from him in case she’s not immune.”

“She is…” Rick choked out. “Safe. Nat got sick and was holding her in her arms the night she died. Ellie was fine. Small fever, but fine.” He gripped Caroline’s hand. “Take Ellie. Go. There’s nothing left for her here.”

“No, Rick. We won’t leave you.”

He squeezed her hand tightly, eyes wide and bloodshot. “I want to die knowing my child is safe with you. You hear me?” His voice was stronger as emotions gave his feeble body strength. “It’s my last request.” He let go of her and slumped back to the ground, struggling for breath.

“Caroline, he’s right. We need to leave.” Lincoln stood, the baby carrier in his arms. Caroline could see Ellie’s face, cherubic and plump, her little body tucked under blankets as she slept.

“Here.” Lincoln handed her the baby carrier. “Take her upstairs, and the dog too.”

“What are you—?”

“I’m going to stay here and help Rick. Now go. Wait for me upstairs,” he ordered. She obeyed, because she trusted Lincoln.

She faced Rick one more time, knowing that she’d never get the chance to express everything she wanted to say to her family, and there wasn’t time now to tell this man what he’d meant to her.

“I love you, Rick.” Her voice roughened as she struggled to speak. “You were my brother, my friend. Thank you for marrying Nat, for…” She closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath. “Thank you for everything.”

Rick’s eyes glinted with tears. “Love you too, kid. Just wish I could have stuck around.” His eyes strayed to the baby carrier. “Now go on upstairs and take her with you.”

Caroline’s throat worked as she nodded and tried to swallow her grief. She understood that Rick would have given anything to kiss his child and hold her one last time but the risk was too great.

“Come on, Kirby.” She carried the baby up the stairs, her heart growing heavier with each step. She knew what Lincoln was going to do because she’d heard him talking in his sleep last night. She knew now what kept his dreams dark and full of sorrow.

He’d killed Adam Caine, the last president of the United States. But it had been more than that. He’d killed his friend. Caroline couldn’t imagine the burden that had placed on his soul.

He was an angel of death, and now he would help Rick. She’d watched men, women, and children waste away over days and weeks. It was an ugly, painful, and slow death. No one deserved that suffering. No one. She reached the top of the stairs, her eyes filling with tears. Her body went rigid when she heard the shot ring out. The baby stirred with a mewling wail and they both began to cry.

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@CDC: We are actively working on a vaccine but urge people to stay in their homes and avoid contact with others as much as possible. Hydra-1 is passed by transmission through touch, fluids, and air. Self-quarantine is the best way to preserve your life and the lives of others. If you believe you are ill, contact our hotline, and we will arrange for transport to one of the nine hundred triage locations that are being established throughout the United States. It is crucial to report if you are ill. Hiding your condition only puts your life and the lives of others at risk.

—Centers for Disease Control Twitter Feed

January 3, 2020

Lincoln knelt beside the man who lay slowly dying.

“Rick?” he asked, and the man nodded weakly. “I’m Lincoln Atwood.”

“I’d shake your hand, but….” Rick gave a raspy chuckle. Lincoln grasped Rick’s hand, ignoring the possibility that the man was infectious. If Lincoln hadn’t died by now, he wasn’t going to, at least not until the virus mutated.

“You military?” Rick asked as he studied Lincoln.

“Delta Force,” Lincoln answered solemnly.

“No shit.” Rick laughed. “Boy, Caro knows how to pick ’em. I bet you’re one tough bastard.”

At this Lincoln did laugh, the sound hurting his chest because he was damned near close to crying. He’d thought he’d had the last of these moments back in the bunker.

“Tough enough.” Why he said that he wasn’t sure, but he felt Rick wanted to know that Caroline was safe with him.

“Damn, wish I wasn’t dying. Would have loved to share a beer, hear your war stories.” Rick smiled, the expression softening the pained look upon his face.

In that moment Lincoln glimpsed another life. One where he and this man would have been friends. They would have sipped beers and sat in lawn chairs while Caroline and her sister made margaritas during a lazy summer day, connected in a deep friendship the way two brothers-in-law could. But that was life which would never be, a future that was dying with the man on the floor.

“You going to take care of her?” Rick asked. His eyes were solemn and focused despite the pain Lincoln knew he was in.

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