brig and found Alvarez crouched in the corner of his cell. He didn’t seem nearly as defiant as he’d been the night before.
"You know I didn't do it," he said. “I can see the doubt in your eyes.”
Dana stayed quiet.
“So what you gonna do with me?”
She tossed him a muffin. “First things first, eat; then I'll decide whether to shoot you or not.”
“This might be my last meal then. That what you’re saying?”
“Might be.” Her features were hard, difficult to read.
“If I knew that I woulda ordered a Big Mac, large fries and a strawberry shake.” Al gave her a weak smile.
“I'm sure you would.”
She left the room, letting him stew while she tried to figure out her next move. There was still no word from the big cheeses back at the Department of Homeland Security, nor had Dana heard anything like the sound of sirens she’d been praying for. A sound that would have signalled the closest thing to hope she’d felt in a while.
For a brief moment that morning, as her eyes had sprung open to the soft light creeping in through Keiths’ window, she had thought the entire thing had been nothing more than a terrible dream. Her heart had soared, before it came crashing back to Earth with the realization she’d been wrong. This was it. Hell on Earth and there was no way to escape it, except through death. The thought of dying made her think of her father. Was he at home, waiting for help? Her help? Was he even still alive?
The family lived in a semi-detached in Bernal Heights. Avoiding the Golden Gate was a no brainer, especially after the terrible carnage she’d witnessed there. She would take the MLB, loop around the downtown district and tie the boat at Pier 42. From there, she’d make her way to Bernal Heights and with any luck find her father, alive and waiting. However, there was one hitch.
What would she do with Alvarez?
If something happened to her on the way and she couldn’t make it back, if she were somehow killed, then he’d stay locked in that cell until he starved to death. On the other hand, if he had killed Keiths to avoid being court marshalled, then what would stop him from getting rid of her the moment her back was turned?
Alvarez was playing sweet right now. She’d never known him to utter a single sentence to her that wasn’t laced with sexist profanity. Even she could smell what he was up to. He was trying to get on her good side, buttering her up, biding his time until he found an opportunity to make his move. There was a chance she was wrong of course; Dana knew that as well as anyone, but gambling with her life wasn’t a risk she was willing to take.
She spent the next hour gathering up as much gear as she could carry and stuffing it all into a rucksack. Water, MREs, a box of .40s for the SIG and three extra magazines that she loaded and stored in the belt that held her holster. As far as she was concerned, this was a quick trip. Grab her father and a few things from the house and head back to Fort Baker. She’d seen the news after hurricane Katrina had turned New Orleans into a crime ridden cesspool. The pistol was a no brainer, but going in armed to the teeth like dirty Harry seemed counter productive, especially given she’d be walking uphill most of the way after she made landfall.
At double time, she hurried back to the mess hall and assembled a tray full of canned goods and a jug with a gallon of water.
Alvarez was standing now, leaning against the bars with his forehead when she arrived. He looked up and his face dropped when he saw the backpack she was carrying.
“You’re bugging out, aren’t you?”
She laid the food on the floor before his cell. Included was a can opener. The bigger cans couldn’t fit between the bars, but with a bit of effort he could manage.
“I won’t be gone long.”
“Fucking kidding me? Something happens to you and I’m a dead man. Tell me you’re just messing with me?”
Didn’t take a psych major to see Alvarez was
"You know I didn't do it," he said. “I can see the doubt in your eyes.”
Dana stayed quiet.
“So what you gonna do with me?”
She tossed him a muffin. “First things first, eat; then I'll decide whether to shoot you or not.”
“This might be my last meal then. That what you’re saying?”
“Might be.” Her features were hard, difficult to read.
“If I knew that I woulda ordered a Big Mac, large fries and a strawberry shake.” Al gave her a weak smile.
“I'm sure you would.”
She left the room, letting him stew while she tried to figure out her next move. There was still no word from the big cheeses back at the Department of Homeland Security, nor had Dana heard anything like the sound of sirens she’d been praying for. A sound that would have signalled the closest thing to hope she’d felt in a while.
For a brief moment that morning, as her eyes had sprung open to the soft light creeping in through Keiths’ window, she had thought the entire thing had been nothing more than a terrible dream. Her heart had soared, before it came crashing back to Earth with the realization she’d been wrong. This was it. Hell on Earth and there was no way to escape it, except through death. The thought of dying made her think of her father. Was he at home, waiting for help? Her help? Was he even still alive?
The family lived in a semi-detached in Bernal Heights. Avoiding the Golden Gate was a no brainer, especially after the terrible carnage she’d witnessed there. She would take the MLB, loop around the downtown district and tie the boat at Pier 42. From there, she’d make her way to Bernal Heights and with any luck find her father, alive and waiting. However, there was one hitch.
What would she do with Alvarez?
If something happened to her on the way and she couldn’t make it back, if she were somehow killed, then he’d stay locked in that cell until he starved to death. On the other hand, if he had killed Keiths to avoid being court marshalled, then what would stop him from getting rid of her the moment her back was turned?
Alvarez was playing sweet right now. She’d never known him to utter a single sentence to her that wasn’t laced with sexist profanity. Even she could smell what he was up to. He was trying to get on her good side, buttering her up, biding his time until he found an opportunity to make his move. There was a chance she was wrong of course; Dana knew that as well as anyone, but gambling with her life wasn’t a risk she was willing to take.
She spent the next hour gathering up as much gear as she could carry and stuffing it all into a rucksack. Water, MREs, a box of .40s for the SIG and three extra magazines that she loaded and stored in the belt that held her holster. As far as she was concerned, this was a quick trip. Grab her father and a few things from the house and head back to Fort Baker. She’d seen the news after hurricane Katrina had turned New Orleans into a crime ridden cesspool. The pistol was a no brainer, but going in armed to the teeth like dirty Harry seemed counter productive, especially given she’d be walking uphill most of the way after she made landfall.
At double time, she hurried back to the mess hall and assembled a tray full of canned goods and a jug with a gallon of water.
Alvarez was standing now, leaning against the bars with his forehead when she arrived. He looked up and his face dropped when he saw the backpack she was carrying.
“You’re bugging out, aren’t you?”
She laid the food on the floor before his cell. Included was a can opener. The bigger cans couldn’t fit between the bars, but with a bit of effort he could manage.
“I won’t be gone long.”
“Fucking kidding me? Something happens to you and I’m a dead man. Tell me you’re just messing with me?”
Didn’t take a psych major to see Alvarez was
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