She reached the medical building just as the train horn sounded again. She put her head down and charged through the chaos inside. The rear door of the facility opened onto a small courtyard that led to the power plant, which had clearly taken most of the damage. It was a smoking, crumbling ruin. Two of the huge vase-like smoke stacks had toppled completely. The train whistle called again — it was coming from the other side of the building. Kate ran with all the strength she could muster. Another explosion in the power plant filled the air, almost knocking her over. She steadied herself and plowed on.
As she cleared the side of the power building, she saw it — a cargo train. Workers were tossing supplies and bodies through the wide sliding doors as the train rolled slowly by, allowing them to spread the load among the cars.
Seeing the carnage outside the power plant forced another thought into Kate’s mind: what if David didn’t make it out? He could still be inside. Or on the train. She could see people inside the empty cargo cars, hovering over bodies. David could be one of them. She would search the train, before it got away, then the power plant. She wouldn’t leave without him.
Behind her, Kate heard a voice she knew. The British doctor. Barnaby Prendergast?
She ran to him. “Barnaby, have you seen—” But he was focused on a body. He ignored Kate and yelled at a group of Chinese security guards standing nearby. Kate grabbed him by the lapels of his sodden white coat and turned him around. “Barnaby, I’m looking for a man, a security guard, blonde, 30s—”
“You!” Barnaby tried to pull away, but Kate held him tight. When he took in Kate’s appearance, her blood soaked clothes and seeming lack of any wounds, he staggered backward and tried to break her hold. “You did this!” He waved to one of the security guards. “Help! This woman is an impostor, a terrorist, she did this, someone help me!”
People stopped what they were doing and looked over. Several security people began walking toward Kate.
Kate released Barnaby and looked around. “He’s lying! I didn’t—” But the guards kept coming. She had to get out of here. She scanned the platform for an exit, a—
Then she saw David, lying there, not moving, his eyes closed, his body resting awkwardly on the debris-ridden concrete platform. Alone. Dying. Or dead?
Kate sprinted over to him and inspected his wounds. Gunshots. His chest, his shoulder, his leg. What had happened to him? The wounds were bad, but something bothered Kate even more: they were hardly bleeding. A chill ran through her and the pit of her stomach seemed to drop.
She had to keep going. She scanned the rest of him. His clothes were in tatters, a litany of burn marks and shrapnel holes dotted his legs and torso, but nothing as major as the gunshots. She needed—
She felt a hand on her shoulder — a security guard, then another one, three of them were on her. She had blocked everything out when she saw David. They grabbed her by the arms and stood her up. Barnaby was behind them, pointing and cheering the mob on, “I tried to stop her!”
Kate struggled at the security guard’s grip, but he pulled her in tight. Her hand was at his side, on his gun. She ripped at it, but it wouldn’t come free. She twisted it again with all her might and she heard a pop; she had it. But they still held her so tight, all three were on her, dragging her to the ground. She pointed toward the air and squeezed the trigger. The gun almost flew out of her hand, but the men scattered and Barnaby scampered away in full retreat, looking back nervously before putting his head down and charging on.
Kate held the gun out from her, waving it left and right as the men held up their hands and backed away. Her hand shook badly, and she braced it with her other hand. She glanced behind her. The train — it was almost gone now, the last people on the platform had fled into the three remaining cars, which would soon be gone.
“Put him on the train.” She commanded the guards. They kept backing away. Kate pointed the gun at David, then the train. “On. Now.” She backed away from David, giving the men space. They picked him up and carried him to the car, placing him right on the edge. Kate kept the gun on them as she paced to a clump of medical supplies scattered across the ground, no doubt dropped by the frightened workers. What was the priority? Antibiotics. Something to clean and close the wound. She couldn’t save him, but she could try, if only for her own sake.
The guards were running away now and the train was moving faster, away from the building. Kate started to tuck the gun in her waistband, but she stopped and eyed it. Was it still cocked? The hammer was back. She’d probably blow her leg off. She placed it carefully on the ground and gathered as many supplies as she could hold and ran for the train. A few boxes tumbled off the stack onto the ground, but she kept going. She could barely keep pace with the train. She tossed the supplies on; a few hit the edge of the car and bounced down. She grabbed the handle at the door and jumped, landing on her stomach, her legs dangling off. She pulled herself into the car and watched as first the platform disappeared, then the power plant.
She crawled over to David. “David? Can you hear me? You’re going to be ok.”
She reached over and began sorting through the paltry pile of supplies.
CHAPTER 63