"Help..."
Sam jumped, turned and fumbled for her gun with shaking hands.
"Yes, please."
Samantha drew in air, glad her bladder was empty as she raised her belt light for a better look at the man dying on the dark brown and white striped sofa.
"Please."
There was total awareness in those dead eyes and Sam wished her peripheral vision would disappear as he begged her silently as well.
The gore and blood was everywhere, and she began breathing through her mouth to keep from gagging. As she stepped closer, trying not to look at his emaciated body, she realized it was a white sofa. The brown was his blood and rotting body that had begun to dry into the material. He had the sickness. The oozing, bald head and open, leaking sores were undeniable, and her eyes filled with tears, with pity.
"Please… help me."
The pitiful whisper made the man seem more human and she slowly moved closer. "What can I do?"
"Kill me," came the immediate answer. Before she could tell him no, her hand had raised her gun.
She couldn't do it though, and the man moaned. A wet, liquid sound, she heard the grinding of his jaws as he coughed violently. Scarlet flew from his mouth, ejecting one of his teeth, and reddish drops of agony rolled down his distorted face.
"Please!" he begged.
She raised the gun again as his gasps for air filled the room. His body was no longer responding to his commands, the radiation destroying him from the inside out. She pushed past her horror to talk, voice shaky.
"Where else can I go?"
He struggled to answer. "Only a base... in Cheyenne still taking calls. All gone...faulty air valves."
"What about the Essex?"
"No! Ground... Zero. Evac'd after the hit... No transportation made for... radiation."
His eyes had begun to run with reddish-green liquid in thick clots, but she could still see the hell in them.
"There must be someplace. What about all the Joint Chiefs and Secretaries?"
"Breached... Burned alive... wouldn't touch me."
Samantha's mind went to the only locked door and the smell of gasoline she'd noticed, and she shook away the horrible images. At least their struggles were over now.
"What about the men who did this?"
The dying man on the gory couch began to heave, coughing, and Sam took a step back as thick blood and puss sprayed from his grossly-swelled lips.
"Mexican... Guerrillas... came during the... storm. Hit Ft. Carson first. Attacked the refugees... and took all females... doors opened, malfunction... retaliation for the War."