Chapter 14: The Fourth
"What happened to your hand?" Alice asked tensely as she examined the bloody cut on the redhead's knuckle while they rested in the grass next to the asphalt runway.
"It's nothing. I just nicked it on the door," Claire assured her, the wound was just the result of Claire's mad dash to get to Alice, but the look on brunette's face was still one of anxiety.
"It's never 'nothing' – did you get any of their blood on you?"
"No, I don't think so."
Alice's relief was obvious, but the open wound was still a danger; the taller woman quickly rose to her feet and pulled Claire up by her scraped hand.
"Come on, there are bandages in the plane."
As Alice wrapped Claire's knuckles with unsteady motions, she noted that her pistol was tucked in the redhead's waistband.
"I'll take that back," the ex-project reached for her Smith and Wesson, but Claire was hesitant to turn it over. She couldn't deny Alice her deadly weapon but maybe she could still get some use out of it.
"I'll trade you for it. My knife, please." Claire held out her newly bandaged hand expectantly.
The ex-project narrowed her eyes. Why am I being so aggressive? she questioned. Alice couldn't find any reason not to return the blade, but then she realized that keeping it was a form of control, and keeping Claire mostly defenseless meant that the redhead relied on Alice for protection. But I may not always be there to keep her safe, Alice thought, and her previous actions in the airport confirmed that.
The taller woman undid her brown leather belt and pulled off the sheath, knife inside and gave it to the redhead. In turn she was granted her revolver and with a practiced hand used the cylinder release to unlock the access to the bullet chambers; she replaced the four missing cartridges, reset the cylinder, and placed gun back in her right-handed holster where it belonged. It was time to get back to business.
"I need to take care of the bodies, refuel the plane, and then we're out of here," Alice said with determination.
The two woman spent the next couple of hours digging up hard earth after deciding on one mass grave, so the family could remain together even in death.
In the room the smell of burnt gunpowder was easily masked by the stench of casualties, but the ex-project was so used to it that she didn't give pause. She'd found wool blankets in a storeroom and crouched down to wrap the dead boy in one, careful not to get any of his coagulated blood on her. The taller woman had made Claire wait outside the room; she refused to let the redhead come near the infected bodies and Claire was far from happy with that ruling, but it was a chance Alice couldn't take. One open wound on Claire – one drop of tainted blood in it… and Alice was confident that next time she wouldn't miss.
Remembering the final shot, the one that almost took her life, Alice looked to the wall on her left… and there it was, the tiny, black hole made by a mere three pounds of pressure. The ex-project imagined the spatter of blood that should have painted the wall red, and that's the way it would've been if Claire hadn't called my name…
Alice picked up the cooling body, thankful that rigor mortis had not yet set in. Her muscles flexed with the dead weight; there was something so sickening about handling corpses, it unsettled Alice on her deepest level.
The family was set to rest in the grave in the same succession of their death; child, mother on the right, father on the left. As the last shovel of dirt was set into place a steady spring of tears poured from Alice's eyes, but this time she wept silently while moving on to build the crosses. Claire watched the construction from a distance; she could tell that this was something the older woman wanted to do on her own.
The redhead was cleaning her nails with her reacquired knife when a feeling of worry surfaced in the pit of her stomach; she looked up to check on Alice. The brunette was still cutting away, sharpening one of the ends of a cross destined for the dirt. Claire chalked up her uneasiness to paranoia, until she counted the finished crosses at Alice's feet. The younger woman made a direct path to her and rested a hand on her shoulder to get her attention.
"Alice, why are you making a fourth cross?"
The taller woman was completely absorbed in her task and her reply was proof of that. "What?" Alice looked at the crosses by her feet, and then to the most simple of which that was in her hand; the lack of care in its creation was plain. "I don't know." What is wrong with me? I'm becoming too complacent, Alice thought as she discarded that cross and picked up the other three ready to deposit them in the ground.
The purpose of the fourth cross was more than apparent to Claire, it was for Alice herself. The imagery of a fourth cross, poorly crafted and accenting a separate mound of disturbed earth made the redhead shudder. Claire wasn't sure how much more of this she could take; she would do anything for Alice, so it killed her to see the taller woman in so much pain.
With all three crosses struck into the willing soil, and with no words said, the brunette acknowledged the fallen family's sacrifice. Alice thought it ironic that she was the one who caught the man's final transmission right before he turned it off, so he could put an end to his family's lives. Ironic that Alice herself would be the one to physically kill those who were already 'dead' by her failure. If there is a god… He is cruel, Alice thought, then she turned to look at Claire standing quietly by her side. She gently squeezed the redhead's warm hand, and felt a solid squeeze in return. If there is a god, then He's given me the best chance in the world for redemption.