McNabb was bigger than Elliott, stronger than Elliott, more skilled than Elliott and a lot –at that moment– more emotionally stable than Elliott. Struggling was useless, but he did it anyway.
Elliott’s throat was already hoarse from screaming, still he continued to do so as Shavian walked away. What could she hope to accomplish? Tears streamed down her face from accusing eyes, and he didn’t want that to be his last image of her. But it was beyond his control. People were shouting all around him and some of what they were saying was beginning to penetrate the numbness.
McNabb was shouting orders to Fipps and Junie in the tank though Elliott couldn’t see how they responded. The general still had his arm around Elliott’s chest, restraining him, and Elliott was surprised when he felt it loosen without him struggling. He jerked away from McNabb but another hand, a smaller one yet somehow more commanding to him than the general could ever be, grasped his elbow.
He turned and his eyes met Junie’s. Tears were streaming down her face and her eyes were red-rimmed and wet and clear, the knowledge of what had happened shining out of them. Why, why did she have to be aware and cognizant now, when it would have been such a blessing for her to be zoned out?
“I have to go after her,” he said to Junie, pleading with her, hoping that she at least would understand. She didn’t. She shook her blonde head.
“No, you don’t,” she said. There was no mistiness to her voice, no vague disinterest. She was bright and aware. “She has to do this herself.”
“Do what?” Elliott asked, and immediately regretted it. He didn’t really want to know, but Junie would tell him, mercilessly. But there was no time for that.
In the distance, from the same direction Shavian had gone, there came the sound of more zombies. The area was clear for now. There were a few stragglers but Junie’s grenade had worked to clear immediate area.
“We have to go,” Junie said, sounding more sensible than Elliott had ever heard before. Elliott shook his head and made to turn but Junie caught his hand. “No,” she said more forcefully. “How do you expect to get over that support beam and through all the wreckage without killing yourself and maybe someone else.”
Elliott turned to her; his brain seemed to be searching for the logic in those words, because he knew it was there, but screaming panic was getting in his way.
“Elliott,” she said softly, “please.” There were tears rolling down her face, cutting rivulets through the dust that coated her face from drifting plaster. “Please. We’ve lost Higgins today. I can’t stand losing you too.”
Elliott swiveled his head to glance once more at the last place he’d seen Shavian.
“She’s made her choice and we’ll help her if we can but we can’t from here,” Junie pointed out. “Please. I need my friend, Elliott.” Junie’s voice cracked in a sob on that last and finally her need broke through his panic.
Elliot knew she was right. Shavian had known they couldn’t follow her- there was no way they could get through that rubble from where they were. Maybe it was time to let her go her own way.
He still only half believed that. But it was also the half that was looking at his best friend, who needed him.
He took a breath and nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Junie tugged him towards the M1117.
As they climbed into the armored vehicle, Junie glanced back and Elliott thought he knew what she was thinking.
“We can’t just leave him here,” she whispered. “I can’t stand what they might-“ she choked, unable to finish the sentence.
Elliott glanced at the machine gun on the turret and made eye contact with McNabb. The general nodded and climbed into the M1117.
Once they were all inside, Elliott, Fipps, Aubrey, Junie and Roger peeked through the tiny front windows of the vehicle. It was extremely cramped as the vehicle was only designed to carry about four people but no one complained as McNabb fired a few well-aimed shots into the already damaged ceiling above Higgins’ body, burying him in a barrow of plaster and rubble. Without needing to plan it, they all fell silent for a few moments.
Then McNabb ducked back in and nodded to Fipps, who put the vehicle into gear and started to turn. In the dim light of the vehicle, a faint red glow illuminated Fipps’ thin face.
“Uh… “ he said. “I hate to be insensitive but we have a problem.”
“What is it?” McNabb demanded, in control once more.
“We’re low on fuel,” Fipps said, pointing to the red light. “Where are the refilling stations?”
McNabb went slightly green around the gills. “On the other side of the base near the air fields.”
“Will we make it?” Aubrey asked anxiously.
McNabb pulled no punches. “Nope.”