Chapter 24

Despite the speech I made during lunch, there was still a great deal to be done to clean up from the battle, and the remaining daylight was filled with necessary, if sometimes odious tasks for everyone.

As the sun began to set, the day's work was finally done and those of us not on watch were gathering for the evening meal. I had spent a good part of the day collecting accounts of the action from the day before. I did this for two reasons: I wanted to gain as clear a picture as I could of how or defense plans had worked, and I wanted to know which individuals had performed above and beyond the call of duty so they could be recognized when we finally, 'formally' celebrated our victory.

The story of Amanda's exploits before her capture came to me from several different people, and the more I heard of them, the more my pride in her grew, but there were others, too. Heather, for one. When Amanda went down, Heather tried, despite her wound, to get to her and drag her out of the melee. It was only Matt pulling her away that kept her from suffering the same fate as Amanda, or worse.

Stories of Gunny and Seamus O'Donnell abounded as well. Both had been in the thick of it. I personally watched as Gunnery Sergeant Garcia led a charge to ferret out the remaining invaders who took cover behind the tanks. His coolness under fire and seeming invincibility lead his men - the same ones who came out from the waterfall with us - to charge forward fearlessly into withering fire. Because of their swift action, the holdouts inflicted many fewer casualties on us than they would have, had those guys been allowed to remain under cover and pick away at us...

O'Donnell led the group that mopped up in the vicinity of the house after it blew. Charging over the berm in the wake of the blast, his men, too, shortened the fight considerably by moving among the enemy and mowing them down at close range, rather than waiting for snipers and hidden rifles to take them down one at a time. By moving in close, they also reduced the number of casualties among the women from the bus. It's a lot easier, at close range, to both determine who you're shooting at and to hit who you're shooting at and not someone next to him.

Carmen Sanchez led the group at the lower mine entrance who helped the People wipe out the detachment in the wash. Jamaal risked his neck to pull a wounded comrade out of the line of fire and get him to the mine for medical treatment. Crystal Adams was one of the snipers in the hills. Her spotter told of how, after making her first kill, she threw up in the rocks, then wiped her mouth and went back to her firing position. All in all, her spotter said, she killed eight of the invaders.

I took note of all of these, and got Amanda to give me a detailed account of Mark Wyndham's role in trying to save her so that I'd be sure to mention them when we had our 'formal' celebration.

The saddest part of the day, of course, was when we held a short funeral service for our fallen comrades. I tried, again, to remind folks to celebrate their lives, and not be too saddened by their deaths, but such words are little comfort to loved ones and friends who will never again see one who was dear to them. These, I encouraged to grieve, not for the fallen, but for themselves, for what was taken from their lives. I encouraged grief for their loss, but reminded them, too, to celebrated the lives and the sacrifice of those who were gone.

Ruth was busily planning for what she had begun calling our 'first national holiday', and I was happy to turn over to her the names of the people who had told me they would help, including Mrs. Elizabeth Wyndham.

Camille sat with Amanda and I for dinner, and we finally got to hear her story.

"I was the one who got sick first," she told us. "Melinda and mom were trying to take care of me, but they got sick, too. It was all over the news, how the hospitals were inundated with sick people, so we never even tried to go there. There was nothing they could do, anyway. I was out of my head with the sickness for several days, and when I woke up, I was weak as a kitten. I used to jog five miles a day, but I barely made it from my bed to bathroom."

"I called out for Melinda and my mother, but got no answer, so I went looking for them. Holding onto walls and furniture, and stopping to rest frequently, I finally found Mom in her room. She was already dead. Melinda, instead of being in the guest room, was slumped in a chair next to mom's bed. She was delirious with the fever, but had a few lucid moments. I tried to get her to her bed, but she wouldn't leave Mom, saying Mom needed her. Finally, I guess, she must have realized she wasn't going to make it. She looked at me sadly and said, 'Tell Gavin I'm sorry.' A few minutes later, she was gone. I cried over her for a while, then stumbled to the kitchen for something to eat. There was some dried cereal and canned stuff, but the electricity was out and everything in the fridge had gone bad. I ate a can of stewed tomatoes or something, and some vienna sausages, then I had to lie down again."

Camille paused, her haunted eyes seeing a faraway place and time. "I don't know how long I slept, but when I awoke, I was feeling a little stronger and I was ravenous. I managed to shower and put on fresh clothing. There was a deli down the block from our condo, so I thought I would go see if I could find something to eat that hadn't spoiled yet. The elevators were out, of course, so I had to go down the stairs, stopping at almost every landing to rest. By the time I made it to the street, my knees felt like rubber. I paused in the lobby of our building to regain some of my strength, and wondered how I was going to make it back up to the Ninth floor. It took a lot of willpower to step out into that street, not knowing what was out there. To my surprise, it didn't look much different than any other day, except there was no traffic and no one moving on the sidewalks. Stopping frequently to rest, I made it to the deli, only to find it locked up tight, with security bars and the whole thing.

"I remembered that the Silversteins, who owned the deli, lived upstairs above it, and I tried ringing the bell for their apartment and knocking on the door, but there was no answer. There was a brick on the stoop, that someone apparently used for a doorstop or something, and I used it to break the glass in the foyer door. The sound seemed incredibly loud, but there was, I thought, no one around to hear. I slowly made my way up the single flight of stairs to the Silversteins apartment, only to find the door open, and Mr. Siverstein lying there, apparently having tried to carry Mrs. Silverstein out. I guess he was trying to get her to a doctor. Anyway, both of them were dead. As much as I hated to, I rummaged through his pockets until I found his keys, then took them down and opened the security gate and the front door of the deli. Anything that need refrigeration had spoiled, of course, but there were salamis and sausages and prosciutto, and other preserved meats that I could eat, as well as bottles and cans of various things. I sat down right there and sliced and ate a small salami and some bread that, while a little stale, was still okay. After I ate, I felt a little better. I found a bag and put some food in it and headed back to my apartment. I felt okay getting back, but had to rest in the lobby for a little while. While I was resting, one of my neighbors, a guy named Josh, came downstairs looking about like I had felt when I first came out of the fever. I couldn't let him go hungry, so I offered him some of the food from my bag. I guess that was my first mistake."

She looked at us like she was asking forgiveness. I could think of nothing to say except, "It's okay, Camille. Go on with your story."

"Well, the first few days were okay. Josh and I kind of hung out together since we sort of knew each other. I mean, before we got sick, I just nodded at him or waved in passing, so I didn't really know him, but afterward, well, he was a familiar face, and I didn't want to be alone. I guess Josh realized how much things had changed before I did. I had started sleeping on his sofa because the bodies in my apartment were starting to, well, you know."

Amanda and I nodded. Even out here in the desert, the stench of rotting flesh had been prevalent for several weeks after the sickness.

"Anyway, one night, I was sound asleep, and the next thing I know, Josh is on top of me, tearing my clothes off. I screamed and told him to get off me, and he just laughed. 'Scream all you want, you stuck up little bitch!' he told me. 'There's no one to hear. No cops to come arrest me, and no one to come to your rescue. You're mine from now on, you snooty little whore, so you might as well relax and enjoy it!' It was just about that time that I managed to get one leg between his and knee him in the groin. I rolled him off of me as he cried. I was going to just go back to my apartment, but I knew he would follow and just break the door down. I took the lamp from the end table. It had a really heavy base, and I think his skull broke when I hit him with it. I didn't wait around to find out. I ran back to my apartment, just in time to hear Melinda's cell phone stop ringing. I ran into the guest room and found it on the nightstand. I checked the missed calls list and saw a lot of calls from you. You just don't know how my heart leaped for joy when I saw that! I knew that if we could get together, things would be all right."