AN: I'll be gone from the computer, beginning the 6th for about a week due to vacation. I'll try to squeeze in another chapter before I leave. Leave me reviews!
Chapter Twelve: The Last One Alive
Trudging out of the all-terrain-vehicle, Zach blinked against the harshness of the sun. Already at an early hour, the heat was starting to suffocate him. Wiping a thin trickle of sweat from his brow, Zach began to help unload the equipment. Next to him, his co-worker and fellow anthropologist Dr. Sarah Mitchells did the same. Her long strawberry-blonde hair was tied in a bun, but a few loose strands had escaped and now clung to her neck. She was young, and Zach was more than impressed with her abilities as an anthropologist. Mitchells was very much like him, having gone through grad school when she was still in her teens, but minus the social awkwardness. He wouldn't have been surprised to find her I.Q. putting his to shame. What he liked best about her though, was that she was down to earth. She was here because she wanted to find the truth and give faceless people identities again. He admired that about her.
"Zach, you're finally getting tan," she grinned. "For awhile you were looking like a tomato."
Zach just smiled as he placed some shovels on the ground. Not only was he getting tan, he felt his muscles strengthening. He was relieved to have finally adjusted to his new environment. The first time he tried digging, his hands had blistered immediately. Mitchells had rolled her hazel tinted eyes and taken the shovel from him, while he was left to deal with the group's snickering. It had been awhile since Zach thoroughly looked himself over in a mirror, but he could tell he was changing physically. His hair had grown out, and it was back to the floppy mess style he had before he became a doctor. His hands had become calloused. It had been about a month since he left the Jeffersonian, and he knew once he returned, he'd be different. It was bound to happen, and Zach welcomed the development.
The other members of their convoy began setting up tents. The two soldiers/guards were scanning the area aimlessly, their weapons discarded. With the exception of some low-lying sandy hills, the ground was relatively flat. In the small chance someone, particularly reporters, would come across the site, Zach and the others would know about it in advance. A lonely narrow dirt road connected scattered villages, leaving Zach in the middle of No Man's Land.
"Bastards," Mitchells muttered, her relaxed mood turning tense. "This is a perfect spot to dump bodies. They have an access road, and an area where the nearest village is miles away. It's smart, in a sickening way."
"They can't be that intelligent," Zach argued gently.
"How is that?"
Zach sipped water from a canteen and answered, "We found the grave."
"True…Zach, do you notice anything different? Something about this site that isn't like the other two we excavated together?" Mitchells asked, a hint of curiosity and uneasiness in her voice.
Zach walked around the perimeter that had been set up. To the naked eye, the dirt covering the pit was indistinguishable from the ground that hadn't been disturbed. Zach knelt and traced the outside ring with his hand. The dirt crumbled in his hands instantly. He did the same with the surrounding ground, and it came apart in chunks. Wiping the dirt on his jeans, Zach stood, a growing restlessness plaguing his brain. Something did appear to be different. Other sites, the ground blended together as one. It had taken electronic equipment to establish a boundary because normally, the texture, the color, the moisture content was the same until they began to dig. Then grave wax would be found, and the layers would be uncovered slowly until remains began to appear. Something was different though with this grave. Mitchells had seen it right away. Zach had finally caught on.
"This has been recently dug," Zach observed.
"Could it be that someone tried finding a loved one's body?" Mitchells prodded.
Zach shook his head negatively. "No. Rationally, it doesn't make sense. They'd alert others, meaning us, and the hole wouldn't have been filled back in. Not like this. It's too carefully done."
"As if someone was trying to make sure no one found it," Mitchells finished, her voice becoming edgy. "Zach I don't like this."
"Let's not jump to conclusions," warned Zach.. As much as he didn't like the evidence supporting a recent dig, he was not about to let his emotions run scenarios. That's not what he did.
"You're right," Mitchells sighed. "We probably shouldn't mention this to the others. They'd get worked up…Christ, the damned reporters found us."
Zach turned to the direction in which she indicated their unwelcome visitors. Sure enough, three men came towards the two soldiers. Even in the distance, Zach could see one carried a camera. Behind them on the dirt road several jeeps awaited. He heard the two guards groan in frustration as they tossed water bottles off to the side. They approached the newcomers, weapons at the side but still on safety. The last thing they wanted was a cameraman capturing U.S. soldiers pointing machine guns at harmless journalists. Zach watched warily as the soldiers warned the three to leave. The others began spouting off in Arabic, and Zach could make out a few phrases.
"Minfadlik, minfadlik," one of the reporters urged. Please, please.
"Can't they respect the dead," Mitchells murmured.
Zach sighed and shrugged his shoulders.
It was the last normal thing that occurred.
Suddenly thunderous cracks ripped through the air and Zach watched with growing horror as the cameraman and two journalists pull out concealed weapons. They fired immediately, and Zach witnessed the two guards stumble backwards, blood bursting from gaping bullet wounds. Zach hit the dirt, grabbing a stunned Mitchells with him. There was no place for cover other than their vehicles, which were too far away at this point to make a run for. Zach covered his head as the shots became increasingly closer. Mitchells screamed when five more men jumped from their attackers' cars, each wielding machine guns. Cries of agony and the metallic smell of blood filled the air as Zach heard his co-workers being cut down brutally. In a matter of seconds, the slaughter reached it's climax and the screams died down. Mitchells began sobbing and Zach's heart was in his throat. One of the gunmen stormed his way to Zach and Mitchells, harshly yelling and pointing his gun. Zach's mind froze and he could think of nothing else other than the awaiting impact of the slugs.
But they never came.
Two more assailants surrounded Zach and Mitchells. They yanked her roughly away from Zach's side by her hair, and she cried in protest. Zach instinctively moved after her, but the butt of a gun smashed down onto his skull. Zach fell back, dazed and seeing stars. Through wavy vision, he saw them tying Mitchells' hands behind her back. After receiving several sharp, brutal kicks to his back and abdomen, he was pulled up by the hair. They too began tying his hands behind his back next to Mitchells.
Zach looked around him, trying to see if there were any other survivors. Ignoring the blood running down his face, Zach hoped desperately he and Mitchells weren't the only ones alive. To his dismay, all he found was carnage. One of the technicians, an old-timer that went by "Joey D." lay on his stomach, the back of his head caved in by the impact of the bullets. Further ahead, several bodies were sprawled on the ground, their faces frozen in haunted death masks. Zach fought the sudden urge to vomit. He knew those people, and now they were dead. In front of him, their invaders convened and spoke in rapid Arabic. The barrel of a shotgun wavered from Zach to Mitchells. Terror gripped Zach's insides as he realized they were deciding who would live, and who would die. "They only want one of us," Zach whispered. Mitchells eyes widened and she shook her head in disbelief.
Zach looked to the sky, his eyes becoming watery. Above the bloodshed, the sky was clear and stars twinkled. Zach realized he hadn't seen the night sky like that since he left Michigan. Out here, pollution and city lights didn't obstruct the view of the heavens. It gave him a small moment of peace. It reminded him of home. Choking, he answered, "They'll keep you, Sarah. Rationally they'll spare a woman." He locked eyes with her and saw she was crying silently. "You do want they want, and you'll live longer. Don't let them break you."
Zach was backhanded by one of the men for speaking. The force knocked him to the ground and he heard Mitchells yelp. The barrel of the gun was aimed directly at Zach, the finger on the trigger. Mitchells wept openly. Zach swallowed hard, knowing his life was about to end. He stared defiantly at his executioner. Though he was terrified, he wouldn't give these men the pleasure of knowing it.
The gun moved suddenly and a single blast rocked the air. Zach was sprayed with warm, sticky blood. He felt a thud next to him as Mitchells' lifeless body toppled over. The smell of gunpowder was overwhelming. Zach took a shaky breath as sorrow and despair engulfed him. He couldn't look at her, he couldn't see her smoking head and the gaping bloody hole the bullet caused.
Anger quickly mixed in with his turbulent emotions and he screamed, "Why did you kill her! She's just a young woman!"
Zach saw the butt of the gun come his way again. He felt the impact and it seemed as if fireworks went off in his head. He didn't understand, why, of all people, he was the last one alive. The night sky had closed in on him, and his question was never answered.
Zach opened his eyes, momentarily breaking away from his fever-induced delirium and nightmare. A crude bandage wrapped around his middle and waist, and he could see the blood soaking through. He felt like he was floating, and he couldn't even feel the cold metal table he was on. His throat felt rough and sandy, and he realized he wanted water. He tried to speak, but no words formed. He was too weak. His eyelids drooped, and he felt himself slipping away again. A loud bang brought his attention to the doorway, however. The tripod from outside was lugged in, and bright lights were lit above him. Zach coughed and wheezed, but he was completely ignored. They're going to film me. Ask for money. And then kill me.
Zach was no longer afraid. In his mind, death would bring an end to the pain.
He welcomed the thought.
