The Search Read online

  But Sarah didn’t hear him. For seconds before she reached into her pocket and took out her MP-3 player, then turned it on and placed her earbuds into her ears.

  She was listening to an old Beatles song when Martel slammed a rock against the back of her head and knocked her out cold.

  Martel was on her in an instant, sitting on her back as he tied her wrists together, then her ankles.

  Once he was certain she was unable to run, he took off her shoes and socks and belt.

  The shoes he threw into the forest, in opposite directions.

  He balled the socks up and stuffed them into the unconscious woman’s mouth.

  Then he wrapped the belt around her head, holding the gag firmly in place.

  The blood from her head wound soaked the grass.

  Head wounds always bled profusely. He’d killed enough to know that.

  And he didn’t want to go through all the trouble of finding and stalking his prey just to let her bleed out.

  So he took off her blouse and wrapped it tightly around her head, covering the wound completely. The blouse quickly became saturated, but then the bleeding slowed to a trickle.

  He removed her bra and admired her breasts while he thought out his next step.

  Seeing Sarah topless, there in the grass, awakened something within him, and he decided to go further.

  He removed the rest of her clothing and hid it underneath the log she’d been sitting on at the edge of the clearing.

  Then he went back to her and raped her.

  She was blissfully unaware.

  Once done, the monster of a man threw her limp and naked body over his shoulder and carried her through the woods to where his stolen pickup was hidden two miles away.

  It would take him the better part of two days to get there.

  But it was worth the work.

  For he finally bagged a trophy far better than the buck he’d come after.

  Yes indeed. This was his lucky day.

  Chapter 7

  Bryan Snyder was a very proud man. He always had been. When he was a boy his father taught Bryan and his brother Mark many things.

  How to hunt. How to fish. How to survive in a harsh environment. How to be tough.

  But their father had taught the boys other things as well.

  How to love.

  How to watch out for those they loved. How to treat their women with dignity and respect.

  And how to protect them.

  There were times when the two conflicted… how to protect their women and how to maintain a tender side as well.

  Bryan was not only a proud man, he was also tough as nails. He thought himself capable of conquering anything.

  But this time he’d faltered. And the façade that was his toughness came crumbling down.

  His mission to find his sweet Sarah had failed. And now his inner self, the weaker and indecisive one, came peeking out.

  He fell to his knees, buried his face in his hands, and cried.

  He didn’t care that others were watching. He didn’t care what they might think of him.

  All he knew was that Sarah was out there… somewhere. Alone, afraid, and injured.

  Depending on him to find her and bring her back home again.

  To warm her and tend to her wounds and provide her comfort.

  To ease her fears.

  To show her she was loved.

  And to be her hero.

  “No matter what happens in the years ahead,” he’d said on the night they were married, “I will always be your Superman. I will always be there to rescue you whenever you need me.”

  Only he wasn’t.

  Bryan wasn’t the only one in the woods that day who carried the persona of a tough guy.

  The U.S. Army soldiers who made up the rest of the search team considered themselves just as strong and manly.

  Perhaps that was why they turned their eyes away from Bryan in his moment of sorrow.

  Were they women, they’d have been at Bryan’s side, wrapping their arms around him and trying to soothe him, to ease his pain, to let them know they were there for him.

  But men, and especially military men, are different.

  Crying is a sign of weakness, especially when the tears are falling from a man’s face.

  Weakness is something men tolerate only when they have to. But they avoid it like a deadly plague. And when another man displays such weakness, his peers tend to look the other way. To wish they were somewhere else.

  For every one of them knew that under different circumstances, at a different time and place, it could well have been them. So out of courtesy they tried their best to excuse it. To look away, to pretend it didn’t happen.

  Perhaps in the hopes that when it was their turn to cry that their friends and brothers would return the favor.

  Every man present had lost someone when Saris 7 hit the earth. Some of them lost their whole families.

  But that persona… the image they had to convey of being tough… prevented them from going to Bryan and comforting him.

  Even as they understood his pain and anguish.

  Dogs, on the other hand, wear their hearts on their sleeves.

  They know that it’s possible to be tender and tough at the same time.

  Man could learn a few things from dogs.

  Duke was the bloodhound who’d spent two full days tracking Sarah’s scent before it vanished.

  Duke felt his own disappointment, sure.

  But here before him was a man in anguish. A man who had his head bowed and was weeping.

  So Duke did what none of the men would do.

  Duke went to Bryan to comfort him.

  To let Bryan know that he wasn’t alone. That someone cared.

  As Bryan wept openly and unashamedly, it was only the dog who took a place at his side.

  Duke nuzzled his face, and tried to lick away the tears with his more than ample tongue.

  It was the only comfort Bryan would get on this particular day.

  Chapter 8

  “I don’t understand. How could she just vanish? And are you positive she didn’t go any farther? Maybe Duke just lost the scent again. Maybe his nose just gave out again.”

  Ben Cates, the dog’s handler, was adamant.

  “No. He was going like gangbusters before we came to this roadway. The way he was behaving, the scent was strong and getting stronger by the minute. That meant he was getting closer to her, and he was getting excited about it.

  “I trained this dog from a pup. We’ve been doing this for six years together. I know his behaviors, his moods. I can sense his frustration and disappointment. If her scent had gone weak for some reason, he’d still be pacing, trying to pick it back up again. He’s laid down. He’s awaiting further instructions. He’s given up.

  “That means the scent hasn’t just gone weak. And he hasn’t lost his sense of smell. It means that the scent has vanished completely.”

  Captain Martin stepped forward to offer to help.

  “Look, Bryan. What Mr. Cates is saying makes sense. I’ve worked with him several times before. He can read Duke like you read a book. And it can’t be a coincidence that the scent vanished here. If it had vanished in the middle of the forest, I’d be suspect too.

  “But it vanished here, right in the middle of one of the few paved roads in the area.

  “In all likelihood someone stumbled across her. Maybe she flagged them down.

  “And if she didn’t, then surely they would have recognized that she needed help. After two days without water she’d have been staggering and weak.

  “I can almost guarantee you that whoever picked her up took her directly to the nearest hospital or clinic. She’s probably sitting in the clinic in Kerrville right now, sipping cold water and resting and trying to figure out a way to contact you. The way you’ve hidden your compound in the middle of the forest, and the way you’ve isolated yourselves from the rest of society, is working against you now.

 
; “Sarah is probably hesitant to tell the hospital staff how to find you, for fear she’ll disclose your secret location. And they’ll likely not release her until she’s strong enough to walk out.

  “And that might be days, if she lost enough blood. That means you’ll have to go to her.

  “Let me call for a vehicle to pick you up here. It will take you to every hospital and clinic in the area. Every police station. Every sheriff’s office. She’s out there somewhere, being treated and waiting for you. I can almost guarantee it.”

  Bryan was unconvinced.

  And he was conflicted.

  “But what if she’s still out there in the woods? What if she’s close by? What if she’s finally collapsed, unable to go any farther? What if she’s waiting for me to come to her? What if she dies because we call off the search and leave instead? If she’s in the hands of doctors and nurses, then she’s safe. Nothing else will happen to her. She’s got everything to lose and nothing to gain by me making the rounds of the hospitals and clinics looking for her. But if she’s still here, in the woods somewhere, then we are her only hope.”

  “Okay, Bryan. I see your point. How about this…

  “How about I call for that vehicle? I’ll tell them to send a hummer, and to pack as many extra soldiers into it as they can fit.

  “The driver will drop off the reinforcements, and then will be at your disposal. You know this area much better than we do. He will take you to every place you can think of where Sarah might have gone to get medical treatment.

  “Meanwhile, I’ll have the reinforcements scour both sides of this roadway for a mile in either direction. She was still dripping blood every fifty to sixty feet right up until the time we hit the roadway.

  “I’ll have the men look for blood drops, as well as the usual signs. Overturned pine cones and rocks. Broken twigs and branches. Flattened grass…”

  The captain looked Bryan directly in the eyes, as though swearing out a solemn oath.

  “I promise you sir, that if we find anything… anything at all, I’ll get on my radio to my driver and tell him to turn around and get you back here immediately.”

  Bryan had been unsure which way to go.

  But Captain Martin’s offer was enough to sway him.

  He half-reluctantly agreed and nodded his head.

  “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  Chapter 9

  The Wilford Hall Regional Medical Center had been the primary trauma care center for all of south San Antonio for many years, even before Saris 7 struck the earth.

  As such, it treated civilian trauma cases as well as active duty military. In fact, it treated more civilian victims of car accidents and gunshot wounds than it did soldiers and airmen.

  The position of the United States Air Force had always been that an emergency is no time to quibble about who may or not be eligible to receive treatment from military doctors. That there was plenty of time to do that later, after triage and basic treatment was done.

  As for the civilian citizens of south San Antonio, Wilford Hall was a godsend. For many of them wouldn’t have been able to afford treatment at other local hospitals.

  And they knew the care they received at Wilford Hall was top notch, by some of the best surgeons and medical professionals in the business.

  Hannah couldn’t have been taken to a better place.

  She was out of her coma now. It was short by some standards, only lasting a bit over six days. But it was needed, her doctors told Mark, to help her heal.

  “Sometimes a patient’s own body knows better than we do what it needs. She’s been through a lot. Her brain has decided it needs to rest. Medically, there’s no other explanation for her not to have regained consciousness by now. But her brain is the boss. And it usually knows what’s best. So we’ll just make sure she has the pain medications she needs to rest comfortably, and the antibiotics she needs to prevent infections. And then we’ll just sit back and wait.”

  Hannah woke up to find Mark sound asleep in a portable bed beside her. He’d wanted to stay awake. Tried to, in fact. But his brain, it turned out, overruled his body as well.

  Hannah watched Mark as his chest rose and fell. His inhalations matched hers perfectly. They almost always did.

  They’d discovered that about themselves early on in their relationship. That at rest, they had identical rates of breathing.

  Later on, they discovered that their resting pulse was the same as well.

  They liked to tell people it was proof their hearts beat as one.

  Mark woke up when the sun in the east window warmed his face. By then, Hannah had been watching him for several minutes.

  For Mark, seeing Hannah’s eyes watching him gave him an instant shot of adrenaline.

  Hannah noticed tears in his eyes, and shed some to match.

  She was unable to speak because of the feeding tube in her throat. But that didn’t matter. She was alive. And she recognized Mark and tried her best to smile at him.

  And that was enough to make Mark the happiest man in the State of Texas.

  Hannah was able to communicate by scratching words on a notepad, using a pen Mark placed in her hand. She couldn’t see the pad, and her penmanship was horrendous. But Mark had no trouble reading it. It came close to matching his own handwriting.

  Nurse Ratchet had lot more experience dealing with intubated patients, and showed Mark how to communicate with Hannah by having her blink her eyes.

  Now, for more than an hour, they went through a series of yes or no questions to fill one another in on what happened.

  Mark asked, “Do you know how you crashed?”

  She stared blankly at him without blinking.

  No. She didn’t know.

  It had happened so fast, there was simply no time to react, or to even realize what was happening. One moment they were flying across the treetops, and the next they nosedived into the ground.

  Mark filled her in.

  “The doctor told me they finished the autopsy on the pilot yesterday. He died of a massive heart attack. They think he passed out and leaned on the control stick. He said that would explain why the co-pilot couldn’t prevent the crash.

  “Did you know that John didn’t make it?”

  Hannah blinked once.

  She knew.

  “Did you know that he probably saved your life?”

  She just stared at him, not understanding.

  “The rescue team said that John’s body was under the fuselage. Your legs were under it too, from just below your waist down. They said that his body was holding up most of the weight from the fuselage. That if he hadn’t been there your body would have taken the entire weight of it. It would have crushed your internal organs and you would have bled out.”

  Tears flowed from her eyes.

  Mark could have dried them with a tissue, but chose to kiss her eyelids instead.

  Hannah tried to mouth the name “Sami.”

  Surprisingly, Mark understood her.

  Maybe because he was expecting her to ask.

  “Sami is a wreck. Debbie and Karen are taking good care of her, giving her sedatives and tending to her needs. And of course Brad is there by her side. Debbie says her biggest worry is the baby. Sami’s prone to stress, and if this causes her to lose the baby, it’ll be ten times worse for her.”

  Hannah reached up and touched her heart with her right hand.

  “She already knows you love her, honey. But I’ll tell her.”

  He placed his own hand over hers.

  “They all do, honey. They’ve been crying for you and praying for you and Sami and Sarah every day.”

  Hannah’s pretty face took on a puzzled look.

  “Oh, that’s right. I’m sorry, I forgot you didn’t know.”

  Hannah’s eyebrows became furrowed. She wanted to cry out, “What? Know what?”

  But she couldn’t.

  “Sarah’s missing, baby. Several days now. She went out into the woods to pick flowers and nev
er came back.”

  Chapter 10

  The closest hospital to the compound was in the tiny hamlet of Eden.

  Far from being the paradise its name implied, Eden had been taken over by convicts released from a nearby prison just before Saris 7 hit.

  A misguided warden felt pity for the men under his care, and knew they would die of thirst if left in their cells when the prison was abandoned.

  So his last official act was to issue them a pardon, of sorts, and to open the gates to set them free.

  Had he thought things through, he’d have realized that the good citizens of Eden would pay a heavy price for his act of kindness.

  Most of the inmates scattered near and far. But a handful of the most brutal of the bunch settled in Eden. They raped, pillaged and plundered at will, and shot anyone who had the gumption to stand up to them.

  Marty Haskins, a friend of Mark and Hannah, led a team of vigilantes to clean up the town several months before.

  Now Eden was mostly peaceful again.

  At least it was for the thirty residents who’d survived the freeze and the brutality of the inmates.

  Two of those thirty residents worked together to run the Eden Medical Center.

  They were Doctor Harold Hamlin and Nurse Donna Toten.

  Actually, it was a “medical center” in name only. Eden didn’t have a hospital before the meteorite ravaged the small town. Before Saris 7 hit it was a privately owned clinic.

  But it had an operating room, of sorts, for outpatient procedures. So there was that.

  And it had the latest equipment for performing exams and running lab tests. So there was that too.

  Mostly, it had two people who were among the best in the country at triaging trauma victims.

  Harold had spent time in Vietnam as a young man and saw the worst that war had to offer. After he lost half a dozen good friends he swore he’d spend the rest of his days trying to save lives, not take them.

  Donna was the most highly regarded nurse San Antonio’s St. Mary’s Hospital ever had. She was credited with saving the lives of many critically injured patients being brought in for emergency surgery.

  The other nurses used to tell patients that once they made it to Nurse Donna, they had it made. That she’d wrap her angel’s wings around them and keep them safe until the surgeons could work their own magic.