Turning, she said to Grayson, “This is Petula. Her parents are…well, in heaven….” She sent Quinn a pleading look, obviously asking him to play along with her. “I found her trapped in her home and we dug her out ten days ago. Petula stays with me now….”
Mouth turning downward, Quinn watched as Petula, who had shining brown eyes and long black hair, wrapped her thin arms around Kerry’s neck and rested her head on her shoulder.
“I’m hungry, Kerry,” she whimpered.
“I know, Pet, I know,” Kerry soothed, moving her hand gently across the child’s tiny shoulders. “I’ll see what I can find, okay?”
Quinn’s scowl deepened. Like each of his men, he had on an eighty-pound pack filled with food. “I’ve got an MRE—meal ready to eat—with eggs, bacon and hash browns. How about if I get that warmed up for her?”
Heart expanding, Kerry bit back her tears. “Oh…that would be wonderful!” Relief washed over her as she stood there holding Petula in her arms. Since Kerry had found her, the little girl had cried often, wanting her parents, and Kerry had told her they’d gone to heaven and would watch over her from there. There was no way she would tell Petula that her parents were trapped inside their house, dead. Each day Kerry tried to keep the child busy with small activities, and she slept with her each night after she finished her patrol of the area, keeping her arms wrapped around the little girl to give her a sense of safety in a world gone mad.
Turning, Grayson gave his men orders to spread out, reconnoiter the entire shopping center area. His fire team consisted of three privates and a lance corporal. He assigned Private Orvil Perkins, a Virginia hill boy, to guard the center against fighting or stealing, and make sure the distribution of water went quickly and quietly. Then he gave LCPL Beau Parish orders to check out the rest of the shopping center with Privates Cliff Ludlow and Lewis Worth. Parish was a North Carolina Eastern Cherokee Indian, and a damn fine tracker and hunter. Right now, Quinn was grateful that his men had been with him nearly two years and could be trusted. They each carried a radio on their left shoulder, so could stay in touch no matter where they were. At the first sign of trouble, Quinn would be notified.
He turned to Kerry. “Do members of the Diablo gang wear any kind of special clothing or symbols so my men might see them coming?”
She nodded. “Yes, they wear white headbands.” Grimacing, she whispered, “But they aren’t always so obvious. When one or two infiltrate a neighborhood, they look like us.” She glanced down at herself and gave a wry grimace. “Unclean and smelly. They only put the headband on after they’ve taken a hostage.”
“I hear you,” Quinn muttered with a scowl. “Okay, men, spread out. Be eyes and ears at this stage. Anything odd, call me immediately. I’ll be here with Deputy Chelton trying to come up to speed on what we’re up against. When you’re done with your reconnoiter, come back here. Understand?”
The four marines nodded.
“All except you, Perkins,” Grayson ordered. “You stay at the distribution center. Look like you mean business.”
Once his men headed off to follow his orders, Quinn glanced over at Kerry, who was gently kissing Petula’s smudged forehead. A sudden, unexpected ache built in him as he watched her full, soft lips caress the child’s wrinkled brow. What would it be like to be caressed like that? To capture her mouth beneath his?
His thoughts were so startling, coming as they did during the present situation, that they rocked Quinn completely. On the way here, he’d been mentally trying to shut out Sheriff Deputy Chelton. Well, that was going to be impossible. She was more attractive in real life, even if she was dirty and unkempt. And her natural, womanly warmth reached out and touched him on this cold, windy January morning.
His scowl deepened as he watched her gently rock Petula. The child had her arms around Kerry’s neck, her eyes closed as she snuggled tightly beneath her chin. Kerry seemed so very maternal to Quinn in that moment. And when she lifted her dark, thick lashes to look at him, he growled, “Come on. Let’s get this girl and you something decent to eat in there.”
He pointed toward the hovel Kerry called home. The idea that this pile of bricks, broken boards and drywall could be called a shelter left a bad taste in Quinn’s mouth. But such were the living conditions for many Americans on this fourteenth day after the killer quake. Thinning his lips, Quinn pulled back the blanket to allow Kerry and the child to enter.
Inside, Grayson locked his rifle and set it down. Under no circumstances did he want Petula fingering the trigger mechanism and firing it off by accident. That would be unthinkable, so he made certain the safety mechanism was secure.
“Have a seat,” Kerry invited softly, kneeling down on the floor, which she’d covered with some Oriental rugs she’d found at the shopping center. At least they didn’t have to sleep on dirt like a lot of other people had to do.
Quinn grunted and went to a corner where he saw a hole dug in the ground, charred bits of wood and ash around it. Shrugging out of his pack, he set it on the floor, careful not to lean it against the rickety wall, which probably wouldn’t take its full weight.
“Helluva place you live in,” he muttered, opening the pack with quick, sure movements.
Kerry raised one eyebrow. “Corporal? Could you watch your language? This little girl here doesn’t need to hear cursing.”
Biting back a reply, he nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry,” he replied, glancing uneasily at Kerry, who was sitting cross-legged on the rug, the child in her arms, the girl’s head resting against her breast as she sucked her thumb. Kerry was smiling down at Petula and gently threading her fingers through the child’s tangled black hair.
“Is this your first time in the basin?” she asked Quinn.
“First time,” he answered. He pulled out some food packets. In all, he had twenty. Lining them up in order of breakfast, lunch and dinner, he opened the first one and put a heating tab beneath it to warm it up.
Kerry’s mouth watered as the odor of bacon and eggs filled the space. Her stomach clenched in hunger as she watched the marine handle the MRE with deft, sure movements. There was nothing soft or vulnerable about Corporal Grayson. No, he was all-business. The dark look on his face told Kerry a lot. Shock was written in his eyes, even though he tried to hide it from her as he worked quietly.
Taking utensils from his pack, he readied the plate of eggs and bacon. The look on Kerry’s face as he handed it to her made him flinch inwardly.
“How long since you ate last?”
Shrugging, Kerry said, “I don’t know. I’m so busy, so tired most of the time, that I forget about things like that.”
Quinn watched with fascination as she sat Petula in front of her, gave her the warmed tray and placed the fork in her hand. Immediately, the child began stuffing the eggs into her mouth, hot or not.
“Take it easy….” Kerry whispered to Petula. “If you eat too fast, you’ll throw it up, honey. And you want to keep down what you’re eating. Okay?”
Petula didn’t understand how sensitive her hungry, fatigued body could be, so Kerry monitored the amount of food the child took in. Halfway through the unexpected feast, Petula yawned, rubbed her eyes and murmured, “I feel sleepy….”
Setting the plate aside, Kerry smiled gently and eased the girl onto a blanket, beside a stuffed purple dinosaur near her pillow. Getting up on her hands and knees, Kerry drew a second blanket around her and tucked it in.
“Go to sleep, honey. Your stomach is full for the first time in a long time, and all your energy is going there to digest it.” She ran her hand soothingly across Petula’s thin back, and very soon the child fell asleep, her arms around Barney.
Quinn motioned to the MRE. “Why don’t you eat the rest?”
Kerry frowned. “There are so many people out there starving. If I ate