Page 27 of Mountain Captive

“How advanced is her pregnancy?” Rand asked. “Has she lost much blood? How is the baby presented?”

“I don’t know! Stop asking questions. You’ll find out everything when you see her.”

“Where are you taking us?” Danny asked.

“You’ll find that out soon enough too.”

Rand was aware of his phone in the back pocket of his jeans. Could he get his hand back there and dial 911? He shifted and slowly moved his hand back.

A meaty fist wrapped around his bicep. “I’ll take the phone,” the bigger man said.

When Rand didn’t respond, the man squeezed harder, a jolt of pain traveling to the tips of Rand’s fingers. Reluctantly, he surrendered the phone.

The car turned away from town and down a county road, which, after a couple of miles, narrowed and became an unpaved forest service road. Realization washed over Rand. “You’re with the Vine, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Who told you that?” the man from the back seat asked. He had released his hold on Rand but sat forward, within easy striking distance.

“I heard you had moved your camp to the woods,” Rand said. He studied the driver more closely. Were these two the ones who had attacked him and Chris last night? Nothing about them looked familiar, but Rand hadn’t gotten a look at whoever had hit him in the darkness.

Another turn onto an even narrower dirt lane brought them to a cluster of trailers and tents parked among the trees—everything from a battered Airstream to a truck camper up on blocks, old canvas tents, new nylon structures and even a large tepee. The driver stopped the car, and his companion got out and took hold of Rand’s arm. “This way,” he said.

People emerged from the various dwellings to stare as the two men led Danny and Rand past—men and women, many young, none older than middle age. Rand counted eight children and a couple of teens among them.

The driver stopped at a set of wooden steps that led into the back of a box truck. A door had been cut into the back panel of the box. “My sister is in here,” the driver said, and pulled open the door.

The first thing that struck Rand was the smell—body odor and urine, but above that, the slightly sour, metallic scent of blood. The aroma plunged him back to the battlefield, trying to tend to soldiers who were bleeding out. He blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness. The only light in the windowless space emanated from an LED camping lantern suspended from the ceiling. The woman was lying on a pallet in the middle of the floor, dark hair spread out around a narrow face bleached as white as the pillowcase, the swell of her pregnant belly mounding the sheets. A girl knelt beside her, laying a damp cloth on the woman’s forehead. The girl couldn’t have been more than nine or ten, with long dark hair and eyes that looked up at Rand with desperate pleading.

Three other people—two women and a man—were gathered around the pallet. They studied Rand and Danny with suspicion. “Who are they?” the man—blond and stocky, with thinning hair—asked.

“He’s a doctor.” The driver nudged Rand. “Go on.”

Rand knelt beside the pallet. The girl started to get up and move, but Rand motioned her to stay. “It’s all right,” he said. “I might need your help.” He wouldn’t ordinarily ask a child to assist him, but this girl seemed calmer and more willing than the others in the room.

The woman on the pallet was so still that he thought at first she might already be dead. He took her wrist and tried to find a pulse. It was there. Weak and irregular. He looked up at her brother. “I can examine her, but I can tell you already, she needs an ambulance.”

“Examine her. There must be something you can do,” the driver said.

Danny knelt on the other side of the pallet “Is the baby’s father here?” he asked.

The others in the room exchanged a look Rand couldn’t interpret. “He isn’t here,” the stocky man said after a tense moment.

“I’m going to examine her,” Rand told Danny. “Help me get her into position.”

The woman was almost completely unresponsive, only moaning slightly when Danny moved her legs. The girl took the young woman’s hand and held it. Rand used the sheets to form a drape around her and examined the woman and her unborn child as best he could. The situation wasn’t pretty. The woman had lost a lot of blood, and the child was wedged firmly in her narrow pelvis. Without a stethoscope, he couldn’t tell if the child was even alive.

He covered the woman again and stood. “Whoever is responsible for leaving her in this state and not calling for help should be shot,” he said. “I think the baby is dead, and she will be, too, soon, unless you call an ambulance.”

“No ambulance,” the stocky man said.

The door opened, bringing in a rush of fresh air. The others in the truck rose to their feet or, if already standing, stood up straighter. Rand turned to see Jedediah moving toward him, followed by several other men and women, some of whom Rand remembered from the day of the fire.

“Thank you for coming,” the woman’s brother said to Jedediah. He sounded close to tears.

“I’ve come as an emissary from the Exalted,” Jedediah said. He looked down at the woman, who now moaned almost continuously and moved her head from side to side, eyes closed. “He is sorry to hear our sister is troubled.”

“She’s not troubled. She’s going to die if you don’t get her to a hospital right away,” Rand said. She would probably still die, he thought. But at least in a medical facility, she had a chance.

“Silence!” Jedediah clamped down on Rand’s shoulder, fingers digging in painfully. Rand shook him off. If the man touched him again, he would fight back.

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