Rolling Thunder - 03 Read Online Free PDF Page B

for a minute when I got back up and went to the unoccupied bedroom to
retrieve a sheet that I used to cover the man’s body in the front room.  I
wasn’t spooked or bothered by the body, it was just one of those funny little
quirks of mine.  Leaving a body lying out in the open was disrespectful. 
Covering it up was acknowledging that this was a person that didn’t deserve
what had happened to him.  Strange?  Maybe, but that’s how I think.
    Rachel took a long time in the bathroom.  Getting bored I
left Dog in the front room to keep an eye out and wandered into the kitchen to
find some food.  The pantry was well stocked as was the refrigerator.  The
power was still on so nothing had spoiled.  Taking my time I put together a
large meal for us, finishing off one of the half gallon cartons of milk while I
prepared the food.  I was still working when Rachel walked in, wet hair hanging
down her back and soaking her T-shirt, dirty clothes balled up in her arms. 
She poked around, opening doors until she found a laundry area.
    “Give me your dirty clothes and go shower.  I’ll finish
making the food,” she said, stuffing her clothes into a washer.
    “We really don’t have time for that,” I said, pausing to
look at her over my shoulder.
    “We have time if you’ll get your ass in gear,” she said. 
“By the time you shower and we eat, our clothes will be clean and if we have to
go we can take them with us still wet.  After a couple of days of tromping
through the woods and fighting we need to get clean.  You smell like a
slaughterhouse and look worse.  You happy with all that blood on you?”
    I looked down at myself and saw what she meant.  My shirt
was as stiff as a board with dried blood, both my own and infected, and for the
first time I noticed the smell.  Giving in to the inevitable I took my weapons
off and piled them on the table, stripped naked and headed to the shower with pistol
in hand. 

7
     
    Getting clean always feels good.  Getting clean with wounds
in both hands and your ear nearly ripped off your head adds a new dimension to
it, but I still felt better.  Twenty minutes later I was freshly showered,
dressed and sitting at the kitchen table with Rachel.  The clothes had washed
quickly and were tumbling in the dryer as we ate.  I hadn’t realized how hungry
I was until I started eating and couldn’t remember the last food I’d had.  As I
thought about it I realized it was the breakfast I’d eaten at Arnold Air Force
Base several days ago.  Don’t know why it mattered, it was just one of those
things my mind had to work out before I could move on to anything else.
    “So where from here?” Rachel asked as she pushed an empty
plate towards the middle of the table.
    “North for a little, then turn west.”  I answered around a
mouthful of food.  “I still think avoiding Nashville is a very good idea.”
    Rachel nodded then leaned across the table and stole some of
the food off my plate.
    “How are your hands?”
    “They’re hurting pretty bad.  I need you to inject them
again.”  Rachel reached across the table and I put my right hand in hers.  She
examined the palm first, then turned it over to check the back.  Releasing it
she examined my left the same way.
    “All things considered they don’t look too bad.  No external
sign of infection, but you’re not out of the woods yet.”  She stood up and
circled the table, coming up behind me and bending to check my ear.  “That
medic actually did a good job of sewing your ear.  He wasn’t kidding about it
being almost ripped off.  There’s only about half an inch of skin that is
intact.  I can see some redness so we need to get some antibiotic ointment on
it and you need another shot.”
    Great.  Another shot in the ass.  I started to make some
smart ass comment about Rachel just wanting me to drop my pants but remembered
the last shot she’d given me and decided I’d be better off just nodding my