Chapter 20 Cam
Cam had been on edge for the last two hours.
Each time a patrol returned safely since his brother had been killed a month ago, he lost some of his built-up tension.
Tonight, he should be relieved, but he couldn’t settle.
Perhaps because today’s border patrol returned, reporting gunshots only a few miles away.
The Slains might plan another move soon.
With night falling, the four-member watch patrol had turned around without checking into the disturbance.
For the last few months, the Watch hadn’t had direct confrontations with the Slains, but the distant sounds of guns firing had become common, reminding those at xTerra of the ever-present danger beyond their borders.
This evening’s action had been too damn close.
He threw himself onto the couch with his latest book as the other four men on the evening shift played poker, a nightly ritual.
Cam attempted to read, finding himself restarting the same page multiple times, but the story made little sense with his brain somewhere else. The nagging sensation that something was wrong kept him restless and from enjoying his book.
Setting down his battered paperback, he stood and stared out the window.
He couldn’t see anything beyond the pool of light cast through the Outpost’s window.
He listened for more trouble. Perhaps because he was paying close attention, from outside came the distinct clank against the iron gate—not the rattle of the chain xTerra’s occupants used—a repeated dull banging.
His heart rate increased. Perhaps it was just the wind, or maybe a trick to lure the guards outside.
The sound paused for ten seconds, then repeated several times before silence returned.
Still, he couldn’t ignore the low, deliberate tapping. “Someone’s out there. I’m going to check it out.” He grabbed a weapon and headed for the front door.
At the poker table, Dave dropped his cards, cracked his knuckles, and followed Cam.
The other guards stopped playing, watching as he opened the door, rifle in hand.
He paused at the threshold. Nothing happened, and he was met with a regular night, without suspicious sounds.
A gentle breeze ruffled his hair as he stared at the inky black sprinkled with stars, the moon mostly hidden behind the trees.
He waited, straining at the silence, still paused at the threshold. It was too quiet.
Cam squinted until his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He cocked his head, still listening. When nobody shot or spoke, he frowned. Maybe the tension was getting to him. He inhaled the fresh scents of damp air and thawing earth. The noise must have been his imagination.
Just in case, he waited another heartbeat before taking a step, peering into the shadows beyond the gate. “Anyone out here?” His voice projected into the night without provoking an answer. He tapped his foot. An owl hooted to the left and was answered by another further away.
No one came forward, so he turned for inside, when the metallic sound came again, quieter than before but distinctive as it pierced the night.
Someone was here.
Cam took another step. This time, he discerned a vague shape near the main gate. Perhaps someone leaning against the edge of the wall. They didn’t move. Were they injured?
His muscles tensed, and adrenaline shot through him. “Identify yourself.”
The figure moved a step or two and then collapsed without answering.
Shit. Whoever it was must be hurt. Suddenly, the bitter taste of bile flooded his mouth, and the image of his brother’s vacant eyes set Cam’s feet in motion.
A sense of danger halted him before he rushed in without backup.
With a deep breath, he stopped fifteen feet from the gate.
Not removing his eyes from the place where someone had fallen, he called over his shoulder.
“Dave. Bring a light.” This could still be a trap, but Cam’s gut said it was a genuine emergency.
His second-in-command brought a lantern, holding it high as it cast yellow light shoving back the velvety darkness.
“You see something?” Dave’s gaze scanned the night, missing the motionless shape on the road blanketed in shadow.
“Someone’s hurt. Cover me while I open the gate.” Cam passed his gun to Dave, trading it for the lantern, and strode to the barrier. Dave backed him up with the rifle, their steps crunching on the thick gravel.
Cam unlocked the gate and slipped outside. He held the light aloft as he scanned for anyone beyond the injured person. Nothing moved in the shadows, and only the faint whisper of rustling branches marred the quiet.
Only when he was confident they were alone did he glance down.
A gasp escaped him. He knelt beside the prone figure, his heart stuttering to a stop.
Cam couldn’t see her face, but the slumped figure on the ground was Lissa.
He brought the light closer to inspect her.
One shoulder was wrapped in a homemade bandage—the surface covered in dark burgundy patches with lighter smears.
His stomach tightened, and so did his jaw.
He swallowed, hoping she was still alive.
He squeezed her uninjured shoulder, hoping for a response.
His heart thumped faster when she moaned.
But she didn’t rouse, and his hand came away sticky. He brought his fingers toward his face and held them toward the light. The dark substance had a faint but distinct coppery scent.
Maintaining his calm despite his fear, he unclipped her pack and flipped Lissa over.
The front of her jacket was soaked with tacky, half-dried blood.
With trembling hands, he searched for a source.
Her only injuries seemed to be to her left shoulder and arm.
She’d packed a thick gauze pad on the front and strapped it on with a tensor bandage.
His stomach lurched. His Lissa had been shot.
Cam leaned closer, checking her vitals—her breath against his cheek shallow. Eyes burning, he unzipped her jacket and pressed his ear against her chest, gratified to find a heartbeat, though it was racing and uneven. He exhaled. Despite her blood loss, she was unconscious, but alive.
Still, if all the dark crimson soaking her clothes was from her wound, it was a miracle she’d made it this far.
He scooped her into his arms, cradling her against his chest as he stood.
Good thing she was petite. He needed to get her help.
“Grab her pack. This is my friend Lissa from Nebraska.” His voice came out strangely calm, though inside his fear swirled in a maelstrom.
“Friend” didn’t encompass the intensity of his feelings, but it would suffice.
Dave darted through the gate, his head on a swivel as he grabbed her stuff and followed Cam through xTerra’s gate.
His second-in-command locked it behind them with a click.
The rest of the Watch stood near the Outpost’s door.
All wore serious faces. Cam ignored their curious looks.
With Lissa in his arms, limp and unmoving, he didn’t have time for long-winded explanations.
“I’m taking her in. Dave, you’re in charge.
Call the captain and alert Medical to stand by.
My guess is she was headed here, and the Slains shot her.
Maybe they lost her when it got too dark to track.
” That must have been two hours ago. Shit.
He tried to recall how many pints of blood a person had.
Six? Seven? She’d lost so much. How had she made it this far?
He tightened his hold, shifting her higher. A slight moan escaped her lips.
“We got it. You go.” Dave dangled the key fob to the Watch vehicle kept behind the Outpost buildings for emergencies.
Cam glanced at her shoulder bandage again.
It appeared the same—soaked. Not with new crimson blood, but with older, partly dried blood.
If she hadn’t wrapped it so tightly, she might have bled to death.
He felt sick. Maybe he should check the dressing.
Still, with the amount soaked into her clothes, blood loss was his primary concern.
He’d better leave her field bandage on and drive like hell.
He carried her to the truck and eased her onto the back seat.
Despite the jostling, she didn’t move. In the truck’s overhead light, her skin appeared a sickly white and her eyes ringed by purple shadows.
Like she hadn’t been sleeping well even before she was injured.
Even if she hadn’t been special to him, her condition brought out his protective side.
Had she come all this way because she missed him?
She was alive, and he needed to keep her that way.
He strapped her in with both seatbelts where she lay.
Dave held out her backpack, and Cam stuffed it inside the cab.
Dave pressed the key into Cam’s sweaty hand.
Hopping into the front of the crew cab truck, he took off, driving pedal to the metal.
His eyes strained, watching for the telltale orange gleam that would mean animals on the road.
His muscles remained rigid as he gripped the wheel.
Though his chief concern was getting Lissa to xTerra and the hospital, they couldn’t afford a crash.
His frantic drive seemed longer than usual—the minutes crawling despite his breakneck speed.
Cam’s chest tightened while he drove, his knuckles blanched white, his palms sweaty, and his vision laser focused.
He listened for noise, any sound from the backseat that might indicate Lissa was awake or even alive.
She remained still and silent.