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Alive and dead at the same time? What was Max trying to tell him? Was Grammie on the cusp? Could he get to her in time?
4
The Haze family, crying in the parking lot, filled Halo’s memory, and he pushed their image aside to focus on the tickle that crawled across the back of his neck.
He was close to finding Mrs. Haze. He knew it.
“Hello? Grammie, I’m here to take you to dinner. If you can hear my voice, call out, please.” Please.
He stilled.
“Grammie?”
When he slowed his breath to listen, all he could hear was his heart thumping in his ears and a rumble of thunder up above. Using the Commando bio-feedback training that allowed him to quickly calm his nerves and silence that thrum of blood, he tried again. “Grammie?”
This time, he heard mewling behind him to his left.
It sounded like a wounded animal.
Halo twisted to look in that direction. And there, inches from his boot, was a bare foot, cut and bloodied.
Now that he’d reached the epicenter of this section’s tangle, Halo used the saw on his multitool to cut through the base, lifting a segment, then thrusting it up and over the top and clearing the space where the woman lay. “Grammie, hello,” Halo said softly as he moved to her side.
Mrs. Haze had pulled off her pajama bottoms and hugged them to her like they were a stuffed bear, sobbing. “Grammie, I’m Halo. It’s time for dinner.” That phrase was the one that got Halo’s gramps to cooperate on days when he was disoriented. Halo just hoped it had the same effect here.
Pressing his radio, he quietly said, “Halo to Team Alpha. I have Mrs. Haze. She’s alive with injuries.” He pulled the sat phone from his pocket and took her picture for Headquarters on the off chance it could get through.
He checked his watch—twenty minutes until things shifted from green toward Maroon. Halo’s mind worked to set his priorities as muscle memory moved his hands and he got his equipment staged for action.
He pulled the tarp from his pack and draped it over the bush to form a make-do tent. He knew it wouldn’t hold up to the impending deluge. But it kept the rain out of his eyes as he set about stabilizing Mrs. Haze.
His attempts at assessing her condition were met with screeches as she clawed and hit Halo with the kind of strength a brain conjures when it’s fighting for its life.
He rocked back on his haunches to give her space. Having her combative amongst the briars was a bad idea. With a practiced eye, Halo let his gaze methodically search her from head to foot. He called his findings. “Halo to Team Alpha. Mrs. Haze is combative, and I am unable to apply field first aid without risk. My cursory assessment follows. Her breathing is ragged. Her lacerations seem superficial, and what blood I can see has coagulated. I don’t see evidence of broken bones. Her skin is pale, dry, and cold to the touch.”
“Ridge and Zeus, three minutes from your location.”
“Tripwire, six minutes to your location.”
“Ryder, if we can keep this pace, about ten minutes to your location.”
The team continued the check-ins as they converged while Halo pulled out his hypothermia pack and a cup to offer her some water.
Once he had the team with him, they could devise a way to get Mrs. Haze down the slope. In the meantime, Halo didn’t like that he didn’t have eyes on his dog. Especially if the rain was going to limit his visual field. “Max to me,” he called out.
Almost as soon as the command left his mouth, Max was there. He gave Halo a lick on his neck, then went over to sniff over Mrs. Haze. She seemed to like that. Maybe she would let Max lie down with her. At least that would keep her warm.
Max stepped past Halo as he unfolded the Mylar emergency blanket. His nose pushed into the leaves, then he turned back to Halo with a whine.
Halo squat-walked forward to ensure they weren’t sharing this space with dangerous critters, and there he saw another foot. This one was slipper-clad and male. The exposed ankle was tinged bluish grey with the beginnings of algor mortis.
Halo pulled the clippers from his pocket, furiously snapping at the stems and vines that encapsulated the man until he could reach the guy’s head.
Dead.
Obviously and thoroughly dead.
Bollocks.
