Home Coming (The Survivalist Book 10) by A. American (ebook reader .TXT) 📕

in the MRAP. While I was doing that, a man walked up. He was obviously agitated. “Why do some of these people have bullet wounds to their heads?”

Capping the canteen, I turned around. I was tired and not in the mood for the conversation. “We did what we could. Some people were so injured we couldn’t save them. It was more humane to stop their suffering than to let them die slowly.”

“So, you just shot them? What the hell gives you the right to decide to do that?” The man asked, furious at the realization.

“We couldn’t help them,” I replied, feeling overwhelmed.

Then the man shoved me back against the truck and screamed into my face, “You just executed wounded people! You sick bastards!”

He had a hold on my vest in double-handed grip. Without even thinking about it, I brought one arm up and over his, using my elbow to break his grip. Then drove the same elbow into the side of his head, knocking him to the ground. I reached down and grabbed the man, screaming into his face.

“And what would you have done? Where were you last night? We were out here all fucking night! You think I liked this? Come here you son of a bitch!” I dragged the man across the pavement as he tried to get his feet under him. I pulled him over to the first woman, the one I was trying to help when Doc walked up behind me. I shoved him to the ground beside her body and grabbed a handful of his hair, turning his head to look at her.

“And what would you have done for her? Look at her! What the fuck do you think you would have done for her?” I was still screaming at the man when some guys grabbed me and pulled me off him. It was Aric and Doc.

Sarge walked over and pulled the man to his feet. He dusted him off and said, “If you want to help, come to the park with us. The people there, we think we can save.” The man was bewildered and looked around. “I know this is hard,” Sarge continued, “but the clinic was destroyed and most of the staff there killed as well. The ones that are left, wounded even, are helping.” He pointed towards the park and continued. “Burn victims need a lot of fluid. That’s usually done through IV; well, we don’t have any of that now. It was all destroyed. If burn victims don’t get fluids, they die of dehydration. It’s not the burns that kill them. Would you rather these people lie here and dry up and die? Or would you rather see their suffering end quickly?”

The man regained his composure and looked around. He slowly nodded his head. “I see why you did it now. I understand.” He looked at me and apologized, “Sorry for jumping your ass, Sheriff.” He rubbed the side of his head and added, “You’ve got a hell of an elbow.”

“Sorry it came to that,” I replied. “It’s been a long night, one that we will never forget, I think.”

“None of us will,” Sarge added.

We all walked to the park. The wounded were lying on the ground wherever they could. Family members had joined many of them there. In many cases, they used pieces of debris as fans to keep the flies away from their wounds. There was a lot of crying and sadness in the park. In many cases, the wounded lying in the park were the sole survivors of a family. Or surviving family was with them, telling them of those that perished. Parents wept for dead children, husbands for wives and vice versa. It was a mournful place to witness.

“We need to move these people,” Doc said. “We can’t just leave them out here exposed like this.”

A female in filthy medical scrubs was nearby and heard the comment. Her head was wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage, but she was still there assisting the wounded. “We need to move them to the high school. I sent someone over there earlier to check it out and it’s in good shape. It’s undamaged and the gym would make a good place to keep them. It’s even stocked with cots, for use as an evacuation shelter. There are people over there setting them up now.”

“What’s your name?” Sarge asked.

She stood up, gently touching the bandage on her head. “Tina Beck.”

“That’s good thinking, Tina. I’m glad to have you here. You alright to keep going? That head wound looks pretty bad.”

“It’s nothing. Just a scalp wound. They bleed profusely but I’m fine. Besides, we need all the help we can get.”

“Amen, sister,” Sarge replied. He looked at Cecil and asked, “Can you get a trailer for your tractor? It’d make moving all these wounded a lot easier. I’d like to have all of them in the gym today.”

Cecil nodded, “I’ve got a big one we’ve been using out at the farm. If someone can give me a ride out there, I’ll bring it back.”

We’d found one Hummer in town that had somehow survived. It had some shrapnel damage but was operational. I told Cecil I’d carry him over to the farm to retrieve the tractor and we headed off towards the truck. As we walked, Cecil was quiet. And that was fine with me. But after a while, he spoke.

“Morgan, I’m so sorry you guys had to do that today. Me, I couldn’t do it and I’m sorry I wasn’t any help. It was a hell of a thing.”

“You helped Cecil. I saw you helping to get the wounded to the park. You were there picking through the burned-out buildings. I wouldn’t wish what we had to do today on anyone and don’t hold it against them if they couldn’t. Hell, I barely could.”

“You know, I spent some time in Vietnam. Take it from someone that’s been there, my friend, this isn’t over for you. It’s going to be with you for