Dave pointed at my face and what was probably a mangled and bruised nose. "Looks like they worked you over pretty good."

I touched my nose, winced in pain, and was glad I didn't have a mirror handy. "Yeah, took a cheap shot with a shovel."

The women hurried over. The black woman was short and heavyset. Probably around fifty. She had a kind face and big old mop of hair trying to be tamed by a bandanna tied around her head. The girl couldn't have been a day over sixteen but regarded me with the eyes of a girl who had aged a little too quickly over the last couple of weeks.

"What happened?" the woman asked.

"Put down a druggie in the garage," Dave said. "We're all good. This here is Howard and Emily. Howard, meet Minnie and Ann."

Minnie smiled at me and then squatted down in front of Emily. "Well, look at you, child. Aren't you juss de cutest ting?"

Emily grabbed my hand and pushed up against my leg.

"Let me guess, Howard," Dave said. "You get stranded on vacation like me and Annie here when the world decided to s.h.i.t the bed?"

"Yeah, something like that," I answered.

"We're heading to the north coast. Gonna try for Montego Bay," Dave said. "We're hoping some of the more touristy spots up there might be in a little better shape. You're welcome to join us."

"Sounds good. Before Emily and I got ambushed I was planning on finding a car and trying to find Kingston."

"Kingston is dead," said Tre flatly. "Dat's where we come from. Lucky to get out of dere alive."

Everybody nodded silently in agreement. I had a feeling the story of what these people had gone through the last few days could rival mine.

"Y'all got that right," muttered Dave. "What was left of the survivors amounted to a bunch of g.a.n.g.b.a.n.gers trying to run what was left of the city. That and dirty street people. Present company the exception 'course," he nodded at Tre and Minnie.

"So are we going to go, or what?" Ann asked. "This place stinks."

"How 'bout it, Howie?" Dave asked. "You two gonna join us?"

"Just a sec," I said and crouched down to Emily. "What do you think, kiddo? Should we go with these people? I don't make a move without asking my partner first."

"Let's rock," she said.

"You heard the lady," I said to the group. "Just one condition. Please don't call me Howie. Brings back bad memories."

20.

The truck bounced over an especially large pothole in the road and woke Emily who leaned against me. She looked around with a little scowl and closed her eyes again. We were sitting in the bed of the truck with Dave and Ann. Tre drove and Minnie rode shotgun.

Dave noticed me looking at his rifle. I think it was one of those AK-47s like you see in just about every movie where the bad guys are Russian, Vietcong, or Taliban.

"Not too shabby, huh?" he asked. "Nabbed it from a drug house. Not much use for the piles of cash in there, but this has come in handy. I'd prefer my trusty M4, but it's better than throwing rocks."

Dave filled me in on my new traveling companions as we headed toward Montego Bay. He just turned forty and decided to retire from the Marine Corps when he made master sergeant. He and his wife moved back to Dave's hometown of Sevierville, Tennessee. They came to Jamaica for a week to celebrate before starting their new life.

Ann Weston was a seventeen-year-old student from Cambridge, Ontario. Like Dave, her family picked the worst possible to time in history to travel out of the country. Both her parents and little brother got sick and died in the hotel while the entire resort fell apart around her. She was in the right place at the right time when the other three discovered her wandering aimlessly down the road. Ann mostly stared off in the distance as we drove and I could only imagine what she was going through.

Tre James and Minnie Garvey were both lifelong residents of Kingston. Minnie was the grandmother of eighteen grandkids and cleaned homes for a living in the nicer part of town. Even from the short time I'd been around her, I couldn't help but notice her upbeat energy and optimism, which puzzled me considering the circ.u.mstances. A shrink probably would have chalked it up as a defense mechanism. Out of all of us, Minnie had the largest family to lose, and Dave implied she couldn't find or communicate with most of them when things went wrong. Her smile was probably the only way she could cope.

Tre was twenty-three. When he wasn't at his dishwashing job, he was practicing his freestyle in one of the hip-hop clubs around town. Jamaica already had a world famous reggae artist, so Tre shot for the biggest rap name on the island. I sensed some tension between Dave and Tre. It was obvious Dave was the de facto leader of the group and I had a feeling Tre wasn't entirely on board with that.

As for my story, I kept it vague. I'm not entirely sure why, but I wasn't ready to let any of my new companions know where I'd come from. For now, I revealed I was from Wisconsin and was here "traveling." That seemed to satisfy Dave.

After about an hour or so of driving, my abdomen was really starting to concern me. It was worse than ever. I tried to write it off as aggravation from all the earlier stress, but riding in the back of the truck wasn't helping. The six ibuprofen tablets I'd scrounged from the clinic didn't touch it either. I tried my best to keep it to myself, mostly for Emily's sake, but pretty soon I couldn't hide the pain.

Ann, of all people, noticed it first. She broke from her daze and scowled at me. "What's the matter with you?" she asked.

Dave, who had been watching the road behind us, looked over in my direction.

"You okay there, Howard? Not looking too great."

I exhaled and wiped my forehead with my sleeve. It was hot of course, but everybody else seemed comfortable in the open bed of the truck. I was sweating bullets.

"I don't know," I said through clenched teeth. "G.o.d it really hurts."

Emily looked at me with concern, but didn't say anything.

I lifted my shirt and looked at the wound site. I almost expected it to be throbbing, on fire, or spewing blood, based on the pain, but it looked fine.

Dave crawled over to my side of the truck and inspected the scar. "Jeez, what happened there?"

"I got...stabbed a while back. It wasn't hurting too bad until today."

He pushed on my abdomen slightly and I screamed so loud Tre and Minnie heard. The truck slowed and Tre shouted out the back window, "What happened?"

"Just keep driving," Dave commanded. "I've got it."

The truck accelerated and Dave put his hand on my forehead.

"Sorry, bud. Man, you're burning up." I caught him glancing at my nose which probably had dried blood all over it from the shovel sucker punch. I knew what he was thinking and I shook my head.

"I'm not sick," I stammered. "I...this is different, I don't know."

Ann handed me a bottle of water from the stash of supplies. I reached for it and was struck with such an intense wave of pain, I almost blacked out. My head felt like it was in a vice and I could feel the blood pounding though the arteries in my neck. I heard a crazy high pitched scream that I mistook at first for a woman until I realized it was me.

My last memory was my view from the floor of the truck bed. I was lying on my side, screaming. Dave was shouting at Tre to drive faster. Ann looked scared. Emily sat in her usual position, knees to her chin, hugging her shins tight. I could tell she was trying hard not to cry.

It was at this point that G.o.d finally took mercy on me, and darkness crept into the corner of my vision. My world turned to black.

21.

Secondary Road B8 Eight Miles Southwest of Montego Bay Jamaica "All I know is we were doing juss fine till de showed up," Tre muttered.

He checked the rear view mirror again. Dave and Ann were still crouched over Howard and the little girl was still crying. At least he'd stopped screaming.

"And what do you propose we do?" Minnie asked. "Dump 'em on the side of de road, I suppose? What's another body, right? We've already seen tousands."

Before Tre could make a comeback, he slammed the steering wheel with his fist in frustration when a bend in the road revealed yet another obstacle. A tourist bus and a box truck had collided and the wreckage now blocked most of the road.

He slowed down and weaved his way around the accident on the soft shoulder of the road. Several bodies were scattered among the wreckage, their shiny bloated skin covered in flies. Tre barely noticed.

The good news was, they were finally on the outskirts of town. Dark smoke rose from several parts of the city, a bad reminder of the chaos of Kingston they'd left behind, but a few fires were to be expected.

As they got closer to the city center, they spotted survivors here and there. Some walking in groups, others sitting alone, staring into s.p.a.ce. Most of them barely gave the truck a second glance.

"Hey!" Dave shouted through the back window. "Check it out," he said, pointing to a message on the water tower. It was handwritten in black paint. SURVIVORS: OSWALD REGIONAL HOSP.

"Oswald Regional Hospital," Dave read out loud. "Y'all know where that is?"

Minnie scoffed in a rare show of cynicism. "Dey only show de TV commercials bragging about it effrey five minutes. Of course dey build de so-called world-cla.s.s hospital in Mo Bay where all de money is." She pointed at the gleaming white building in the distance. "I've seen enuf pictures to know dat's it."

Tre nodded his confirmation.

"Great," Dave said. "Might as well do as the sign says. Hopefully there are a few doctors around." He turned his attention back to Howard. He was still unconscious but stirred and moaned slightly. His face was covered in sweat and he looked paler by the minute. "I have a feeling this poor b.a.s.t.a.r.d is going to need more than a couple Band-Aids."

Ann shot Dave a vicious look and nodded at Emily, who wouldn't take her eyes off Howard. Ann scooted over to the girl and put her arm around her. "It's okay, honey. Did you hear that? We're going to a hospital. There's going to be some doctors there that will help."

As if answering for Emily, Howard let out a loud groan. His eyes fluttered open a moment before he lost consciousness again.

Dave felt a little better there were signs of other survivors and some sort of organization, but he was starting to get a bad feeling about something else. At first, he just a.s.sumed the epidemic didn't leave the sh.o.r.es of the country and it was unique to Jamaica. As they drove through town, it concerned him that he didn't see any evidence of outside help yet. He wasn't quite sure exactly what he expected to see, but he didn't find any indication that the rest of the world was coming to their aid. At the very least, he was hoping to see a US aircraft carrier off the coast, or red cross planes flying overhead, or something.

He tried to convince himself they were coming. They'd have to be getting there soon. He wasn't ready to admit that maybe the rest of the world was just as bad and they were on their own. Not yet.

Dave Penske had seen his fair share of refugee shantytowns over the years while serving in the Corps. The parking lot in front of Oswald Regional certainly fit the description. It was hard to tell, but he guessed there were at least a hundred people milling about with more on the way in by car or on foot.

Smoke from dozens of cooking fires and barbeques rose above the tents, campers, vans, and buses scattered about. Many of the survivors wore new clothes from the Montego Bay shopping district. Shopping carts overflowing with looted goods, much of it useless, were everywhere.

Dave wiped the sweat from his eyes and scanned the crowd looking for any sort of threat. Everybody seemed content enough for now with their looted goods and food supplies. Hopefully, there wasn't any reason that his group would be in danger from the rest of the survivors.

Tre slowly weaved the truck through the crowd. Minnie asked several people for a doctor and they all pointed at the hospital. Parked in front of the building was a large RV and what appeared to be a military command vehicle. A small group of people gathered around a couple of tables in front of the RV.

"Everybody stay put," Dave said. "I'm going to see who's in charge." He hopped out of the truck and approached the table.

"Sir," a man wearing a tiger-stripe camouflage uniform approached him, his hand on his holstered side arm. "No weapons here."

Dave looked down and realized he was still holding his AK. "Sorry," he said. He cleared the action on the rifle, removed the magazine, and shouldered the AK using the strap. "Good enough?" he asked. "I was a United States Marine if that means anything to you. I know how to handle it." The soldier eyed him and then his group in the truck.

"Are you in charge here?" Dave asked the soldier. "We need a doctor for our friend."

"I'm Colour Sergeant Arscott. Second Battalion, Jamaica Regiment. So far, I'm the highest ranking member of the JDF here."

"So you're in charge?" Dave asked.

Arscott pointed at the RV. "There's a member of the house of representatives here as well. Doctor Marshall of the Westmoreland Central. We've been working together, trying to help the people and keep order best we can."

"Is he a medical doc or book doc? Like I said, my friend..."

"Inside," Arscott cut him off. "You can find help inside, but first we need everybody's names. We're trying to keep a record."

From the back of the truck, Howard must have gained consciousness and started moaning loudly. "Look, that can wait," snapped Dave. "We need help now!"

"Fine," Arscott surrendered. "Take him to the front door."

Dave ran back to the truck to find Howard awake and bent over in pain again. "Tre!" he shouted. "Pull up to the front doors. There's help inside."

Dr. Jake Wilson leaned back, shook his head, and ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't know," he said.

"What? What do you mean, you don't know?" Dave asked. "You don't know what's wrong? Don't know how to treat him? What?"

"Hey, man, I already told you. Yeah, I'm a doctor but I'm only an intern," Wilson snapped. "Christ, I'm only here because my girlfriend talked me into going on vacation before my internship started. Which was supposed to be yesterday, by the way. Now she's f.u.c.king dead in our hotel room, so stop giving me s.h.i.t!"

"Let's all calm down, aright?" Minnie cooed. "Doctor, Dave didn't mean no harm. We're juss trying to help our friend."

"Yeah, yeah, sorry," Wilson said. He stood up and rubbed his hands together. "Well, the good news is we were able to dope him up pretty good and manage the pain for now. I'm just not sure what's causing it though. You said he was stabbed?"

"Yeah, that's what he told me," said Dave.

"I don't see any problems with that incision in his belly. Whoever patched him up did a solid job."

"Isn't there anything you can do?" asked Minnie.

"Lady, I can't even do a simple blood workup on him. I've got plenty of supplies to work with, sure, but no nurses, barely any power thanks to that little generator outside, and the Internet is down so I can't even do any research."

"What about an x-ray or CAT scan or something? Maybe you'd have a better idea if you could see inside," Dave suggested.

Wilson shook his head. "No way, not with that little genny out there. We barely have enough juice to run the lights in this corner of the ER. Besides," he said, looking embarra.s.sed. "That stuff isn't really my specialty."

Dave looked at Howard. He looked peaceful on the gurney but he knew it wouldn't last unless they could keep him knocked out. He barely knew this guy and didn't owe him anything. He could easily leave him for dead. But he'd been a Marine NCO long enough that he just wasn't wired that way. Howard and the little girl had only just joined their group that day but he still felt responsible for their safety. Dave took great pride in always putting his men first, and he'd be d.a.m.ned if he let that part of him die along with the rest of the world.

"Well," he sighed. "I better go check on the others and let them know what's going on. Thanks, Jake. If there's anything we can do..."

"Hey!" Wilson perked up. "You know what we could try? Ultrasound!"

"What do you mean?" Minnie asked.