Page 132 of Viral Justice

“I need a mirror,” Max told the boys. “Help me find one in one of these houses.”

Coban stayed with Max, helping him to stand, while Berez ran ahead to the nearest house and went inside.

Max’s head hurt so much he had to breathe through his mouth to keep from vomiting. He had acquired a concussion at some point he couldn’t remember.

As he reached the house, the younger boy came out and waved at them to go in. There was a mirror hung on the wall a few feet inside the door.

His reflection wasn’t reassuring.

His head, face, and neck were coated in blood, though it was concentrated on the left side. He turned to get a better look at that side and realized there was a furrow carved out of the skin down the side of his skull.

That explained the blood on his head and his dizziness.

One of the boys tugged at his hand and held out a cup of water.

“Thank you,” Max said to him then took the cup, dipped one corner of the scarf in it and began to clean some of the blood off his face. Then he used the scarf as a bandage and wrapped it around his head, tying it into place to keep fresh blood from obscuring his vision.

He checked his side next and found a hole in his clothing. Another bullet had hit him just below his hip, but it had gone through the muscle clean, leaving an exit wound that was only bleeding sluggishly.

“Can you get me another one of these?” Max asked Coban, pointing at the scarf around his head.

The boy nodded and dashed out the door.

Max went into the kitchen and found a bottle of homemade wine on the table. He drank a couple of long swigs, then took the scarf the boy brought him, folded it and tucked it into his pants so it covered the bullet wound, front and back, and applied enough pressure to hopefully stop the bleeding.

He glanced at his two junior team members. “Which direction did the bad man go?”

The boys led him back outside and they walked cautiously down the street. Behind them, the building on fire was collapsing in on itself. The air was cool enough that it didn’t look like the flames would spread to other houses.

There weren’t many people visible, though the sounds of crying and gunshots echoed across the valley as if the dead were fighting to stay with the living.

A familiar shout caught Max’s attention. It came from inside the village, not outside it. He turned to follow the noise and found himself on a narrow street that led to the center of the village.

He pushed the two boys behind him as he hugged houses to keep out of sight. When they got to the last house between them and the spot all the noise was coming from, Max crouched down to talk to his guides.

“I want you two to find a house to hide in. Far away from here.”

They looked at each other, then at him and shook their heads.

“I need your help,” he told them very seriously. “I need bandages and food for the sick and wounded. Can you find some for me?”

Coban studied him with narrowed eyes, then slowly nodded. “When I am older,” he said to Max, “I will come with you to kill the bad men.”

Max smiled sadly. “When you are older, I won’t stop you.”

He nodded, then grabbed his brother’s hand and trotted away down the street.

Max took in a deep breath and inched his way around the house until he could see what was happening in the center square of the village. The home he was using as cover had a low fenced-in area for chickens. He was able to lie prone on the ground and peek through the wood slats.

Akbar paced in front of four people kneeling with their hands behind their heads, yelling in English at another man with what looked like a smartphone. There were seven, no...eight armed men with Akbar, including the one with the phone.

“These four soldiers have been found guilty of attacking innocent civilians and will be executed for their crimes. We will not allow others to come into our land to tell us what to do, attack us or kill us. The time for diplomacy is over. The time for action is now.”

Max could see Ali, the shortest of the four kneeling, Warren, Hunt, and Jessup, but he couldn’t tell how badly they were injured. Warren leaned increasingly to one side, as if losing a battle with consciousness.

If he didn’t get them out of there in the next couple of minutes, they might not stay alive at all.

How was he going to get them out?

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