From the End of Heaven by Chris Stewart

Author:Chris Stewart [Stewart, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: Deseret Book Company
Published: 2008-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Fourteen Miles East of Little Rock, Arkansas

The young lieutenant pulled his camouflage jacket around him and rolled over in his sleep. He was crammed in the backseat of a black Cadillac, the largest car abandoned on the freeway that he could find, but his feet were still jammed against the rear door and his legs were cramped from being bent. He had taken off his boots and placed them on the floor beside him; other than that he was fully dressed. He’d rolled up an extra pair of pants to make a rough pillow and spread his military jacket over him for a blanket, although it only covered him to his waist. His gear and pack were beside him on the floor, everything organized and tidy, just as it should be. Attention to detail. Keep things tight. Keep things clean and oiled and always ready for a fight.

The military issue 9-mm Beretta Special Forces handgun was under the front seat, within easy reach. The tiny, pearl-handled .22 he’d picked up in Baltimore was, as always, strapped around his calf.

Bono shivered in his sleep. It was cold outside. Really cold. Frost had formed on the front window, creating a maze of crystals that, in half an hour, when the sun came up, would reflect in tiny prisms of light. His breath formed a light mist in front of his face. The lieutenant rolled over, pulled the jacket to his chin, shivered, and slowly opened his eyes. He lay there for a moment trying to figure out where he was, the semidarkness of predawn illuminating the car in gray light. Within a few seconds it all came back to him and he was instantly awake.

He got up, pulled on his boots, climbed out of the car, and stretched. A small ditch ran under the freeway and he climbed down to it, washing his face and shaving as quickly as he could. He hadn’t shaved in days and it felt good to get the itchy

stubble off his neck. Working his way upstream, he traced the water in the growing light until he found a pool where the small stream was calm and clear. He studied the water, looking for signs of vermin or other water life. He sifted it with his fingers, smelled it, let it drip against the light, tasted it, then sat back on his haunches and thought. He had iodine pills in his pack, but only a few weeks’ worth, and who knew what lay ahead? The next water hole he found might be little better than a sewer, while this seemed fairly clear. Take his chances? Wait for better? He thought for a moment, then leaned over and drank deeply, filling his stomach as much as he could, then his canteen, then the plastic water bottles the air force sergeant had given him on the flight into Little Rock. Scrambling up the embankment, he walked back to the freeway and climbed up onto the roof of the car.

The

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