but most of the people we’ve talked to believe she did what was right. Now, we have also talked to the office of the superintendent of the school system here in Calusa County and they had a different reaction. They would not appear on camera, but they made this statement …’ Gruber read from a sheet of computer paper. ‘The Calusa County School Board is aware that Erica Weisz probably saved dozens of lives at Travis Hanks Elementary yesterday. However, it is not the school’s policy to allow teachers to carry guns, and this is a clear violation of our policies and of federal law. If, or when, she returns, she will be placed on administrative duty, pending an investigation of the circumstances.’ Gruber looked at the camera as if he’d just read something as significant as the Gettysburg Address. ‘Back to you, Gail.’
‘Thanks, Dave. This just in: In Inverness, Florida, last night, a fifteen-year-old boy was shot to death by an unauthorized neighbourhood watchman … ’
Moral stuck a cigarette in his mouth, then remembered he was in an airport where smoking was prohibited. He kept it in his mouth, but put the lighter back in his pocket.
Why is she calling so much attention to herself
? he wondered. It was only going to make things worse, if not for her, definitely for him. He had to find her before the police, or the media, did. Of course, if the Esperanzas found her first, it might not look good for him at work, but it would certainly take care of his problems. He wondered if the Esperanzas were upset with him right now. They shouldn’t be; he had done what he said he would. But, would that suffice? These guys did not think like most people. These guys were monsters.
NINE
The sound of bells woke her. Erica’s eyes fluttered open, but she couldn’t remember where she was. Then, it came back to her. She was in Lake Wales at the safe haven ‘B’ house. The bells were from the Bok Tower, heralding the bright, sunny day.
She was even sorer than she had been the night before. She tried to sit up, but it was too difficult. She had to roll out of bed, get her feet under her, and try to stand. Her efforts were feeble. Her skin was the colour of washed-out butterscotch pudding. Each step took effort on legs that felt like wobbly stilts.
There was nothing in the refrigerator, but, when she had first relocated to the area, one of her first responsibilities was to visit the ‘B’ haven and stock it with some dry provisions. There was coffee and cooking oil and powdered cocoa and eggs in the kitchen. A week’s worth of MREs from a camping store in the cabinet over the stove. There were extra clothes, including another pair of Nike shoes in the bedroom closet. The bathroom was fully stocked with TP, toothpaste, hydrogen peroxide and, most importantly, several shades of hair dye. She would get to that later. Right now, she wanted to see how dehydrated she was. She sat on the toilet – her trembling legs gratefully giving up her weight – but she could not urinate when she tried. That answered her question.
Making it back into the kitchen, she started a pot of coffee, then retrieved the bag she’d brought with her from the hospital. She located a bag of normal saline, spiked it with the IV tubing, and tied a tourniquet around her bicep. She squeezed her fist several times, brought up a weak, thin vein, and stuck an eighteen gauge needle in. Dark blood crept into the plastic catheter, slowly, as though there wasn’t much in her. She hooked up the tubing to the IV hub and opened it up all the way, then whipped off the tourniquet. She could feel the cool fluid filling her veins and giving her back some blood pressure. She poured herself a cup of black coffee, and sat at the kitchen table, having her liquid breakfast, until the IV bag and coffee pot were empty. She left the IV hub in her wrist with a preloaded heparin lock. Now, when she went to the bathroom, she managed to pee a couple of drops and was relieved
‘Thanks, Dave. This just in: In Inverness, Florida, last night, a fifteen-year-old boy was shot to death by an unauthorized neighbourhood watchman … ’
Moral stuck a cigarette in his mouth, then remembered he was in an airport where smoking was prohibited. He kept it in his mouth, but put the lighter back in his pocket.
Why is she calling so much attention to herself
? he wondered. It was only going to make things worse, if not for her, definitely for him. He had to find her before the police, or the media, did. Of course, if the Esperanzas found her first, it might not look good for him at work, but it would certainly take care of his problems. He wondered if the Esperanzas were upset with him right now. They shouldn’t be; he had done what he said he would. But, would that suffice? These guys did not think like most people. These guys were monsters.
NINE
The sound of bells woke her. Erica’s eyes fluttered open, but she couldn’t remember where she was. Then, it came back to her. She was in Lake Wales at the safe haven ‘B’ house. The bells were from the Bok Tower, heralding the bright, sunny day.
She was even sorer than she had been the night before. She tried to sit up, but it was too difficult. She had to roll out of bed, get her feet under her, and try to stand. Her efforts were feeble. Her skin was the colour of washed-out butterscotch pudding. Each step took effort on legs that felt like wobbly stilts.
There was nothing in the refrigerator, but, when she had first relocated to the area, one of her first responsibilities was to visit the ‘B’ haven and stock it with some dry provisions. There was coffee and cooking oil and powdered cocoa and eggs in the kitchen. A week’s worth of MREs from a camping store in the cabinet over the stove. There were extra clothes, including another pair of Nike shoes in the bedroom closet. The bathroom was fully stocked with TP, toothpaste, hydrogen peroxide and, most importantly, several shades of hair dye. She would get to that later. Right now, she wanted to see how dehydrated she was. She sat on the toilet – her trembling legs gratefully giving up her weight – but she could not urinate when she tried. That answered her question.
Making it back into the kitchen, she started a pot of coffee, then retrieved the bag she’d brought with her from the hospital. She located a bag of normal saline, spiked it with the IV tubing, and tied a tourniquet around her bicep. She squeezed her fist several times, brought up a weak, thin vein, and stuck an eighteen gauge needle in. Dark blood crept into the plastic catheter, slowly, as though there wasn’t much in her. She hooked up the tubing to the IV hub and opened it up all the way, then whipped off the tourniquet. She could feel the cool fluid filling her veins and giving her back some blood pressure. She poured herself a cup of black coffee, and sat at the kitchen table, having her liquid breakfast, until the IV bag and coffee pot were empty. She left the IV hub in her wrist with a preloaded heparin lock. Now, when she went to the bathroom, she managed to pee a couple of drops and was relieved
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