"Get us back to shelter!" His teeth chattered so violently he could barely make himself understood.
"Joey, give the doc your parka!"
Joey protested only once, then gave Francisco his parka. The thug began a miserable dance to keep warm.
"I'll carry her," Nelson growled. He bundled her up. Francisco pulled the parka hood down across her face to protect her as best he could from the bitter temperatures.
"Move," Francisco muttered. "Get her inside!"
She stirred, struggled briefly, then sank back into a stupor. They set off for the shelter at a run.
Bill opened the door and gaped. Then stumbled back as Nelson shoved his way through. Francisco followed. Joey moaned for blankets and coffee. Janet and Lucille gave twin shrieks. Francisco managed a weak smile. "Unexpected arrival. They, uh, needed me again. Bring some hot water, Janet, and several blankets."
He followed Nelson into the room where Zac Hughes still slept. Janet rummaged in the next room. Bill said, "Siddown, Collins. You, too, brat."
"Put her onto one of the cots," Francisco instructed. He reached for the medical bag he'd left beside Zac Hughes' cot and pulled out a stethoscope. Her heartbeat was strong and steady. Miraculously, her lungs sounded clear. He didn't see much debris in her nostrils or throat. She was one very lucky lady. He wondered who she was.
He stripped off torn, bloody clothing—and paused fractionally. He glanced up as Janet arrived. "Thanks. Bring some clean towels, please. And I want Lucille's help on this one. When this lady comes around, she's not going to be very trusting of anyone male. Nelson, get out of my way."
He examined the unconscious woman minutely. She hadn't been out in the weather long enough to sustain frostbite. Her pupils reacted well and her reflexes were normal. Her face and body bore ugly bruises and her back was badly marred from what looked like a rope whip. Somebody had very recently raped her.
She moaned and began to stir.
"Janet! Lucille! I may need you in here real fast! She's going to be scared to death... ."
Both women skidded in and hunkered down anxiously. "Why?" Lucille asked breathlessly. "What's wrong?" She saw the bruises, the ugly abrasions. "Dear God."
Janet swallowed hard.
"My God. Poor, poor girl..."
Francisco dragged a blanket up just as her eyelids fluttered open. She moaned softly and tried, without much success, to focus on his face. She seemed deeply confused, her dazed, searching gaze touching Francisco's face, then Lucille's, finally Janet's.
Then she saw Nelson in one corner. Her gaze sharpened from confusion to certainty—and hatred the likes of which Francisco had never witnessed. She half lunged, half fell out of bed, fingers curved to strike, and banged straight into Nelson, which saved her from falling. She didn't seem to notice. It wasn't much of an attack, but she did manage to scratch his face pretty badly and just missed gouging an eye.
Nelson yelled, then struck with a fist the size of a baseball glove. It connected brutally. She sprawled back against the army cot, which collapsed under the force of her landing.
She didn't try to get up again, just hissed out, "You stinking murderer! I'll kill you, I swear it!"
Nelson's eyes darkened as he reached for his gun.
Nelson'll kill her! Francisco jumped forward, managed to put himself between her and the enraged guard. Francisco heard Janet yelling...
Confused shouts and crashes reached his awareness as he stared down the enormous hole in the end of the .357 Magnum's barrel.
"Get away from her," Nelson snarled.
"Why? So you can shoot her? Forget it."
A thick finger tightened down ever so slightly on the trigger. Nelson's expression was beyond description; his eyes were alight with something so unholy it made Francisco's skin crawl.
An enormous crash and shouts from the outer room distracted both men. Nelson and Francisco glanced as one to focus on a struggle out in the main room. Bill had grappled Danny, Jr. and discovered he'd grabbed more than he'd bargained for. Lucille picked up a chair and hit Bill across the back of the head with it. Danny, Jr. launched himself at Joey's back. The boy clung like a leech while tearing at the man's eyes and face with clawed fingers.
Nelson strode into the thick of it and fired a series of gunshots. They blasted deafeningly in the confined space. Everybody froze. Nelson stood in the center of the room, holding a machine gun. Holes pierced the ceiling. Freezing air seeped through. Nelson glared impartially at everyone, then pointed his rage at the newcomer. He took two steps back into their room, snatched Francisco aside, and backhanded the half-crouched girl savagely. She sprawled across the upturned army cot and slid to a stop against Lucille.
Lucy dropped to her knees to cradled the woman protectively. "You stinking animal!"
"Shut up, Collins!"
Joey managed to dump Danny onto the floor. Bill was still out cold.
"That"—Nelson pointed at the groggy girl in Lucille's arms—"is the woman we sent back in time to die! Tony was supposed to kill her. Little whore got him killed instead!"
He raised the machine gun muzzle and pointed the weapon at her. "I don't need two Collins hostages, lady. Move away, or I'll shoot both of you."
"Nelson—" Francisco tried to intervene.
The bastard didn't even turn around.
"Dammit, Nelson, listen to me!" He lurched forward, dared to grab Nelson's gun arm. "Answer this: Was Tony supposed to come here? After he killed this girl?"
That got his attention. "What? No."
"Then why did they come through here? Into this time?"
Nelson paused. Frown lines jumped into existence across his thick face.
"If you don't know, then Carreras will want to talk to her. Obviously something went wrong. Something your boss will want lots of answers about. Answers you can't give him."
Nelson glanced at him. "And you figure she's in bad enough shape, we'll need you to keep her alive?" He laughed nastily. "Nice try, doc." The machine gun barrel now pointed solidly at Francisco's midsection.
Francisco shrugged with a profound air of nonchalance he didn't feel at all. He hoped Nelson couldn't see how badly his knees wobbled. "Okay, Nelson. Don't say I didn't warn you." He held Nelson's gaze steadily. "You said yourself heads would roll if Tony died." He gestured toward the sprawled woman. "Go ahead. Kill the only witness who can tell Carreras what happened." He managed a nasty grin of his own. "I hope you like it here, Nelson. My guess is, you won't be leaving. Ever."
Nelson just scowled. He finally spat at Joey, "Fix that stupid roof. You"—he fixed Lucille with an icy stare—"get that bitch back in bed. Tie her down if you have to, doc. Next time, I will shoot her. And you with her."
Francisco began breathing again. He became aware of Janet's shoulder just behind his, grazing him in the slightest of contacts.
"Are you okay?" she whispered.
"Yeah. You?"
"Peed on myself," she whispered shakily, "but I'm okay."
Francisco took a deep breath. "Why don't you go clean up a little, change into dry clothes if you've got spares, then come back here."
She nodded, scooped up a gym bag from one corner, and headed for the open-doored bathroom.
"Let's see if I can get one of these cots turned back over," he muttered, righting the one the unknown girl had sprawled across.
Lucille was struggling to lift the semiconscious woman. He helped haul the girl to her feet, then together they lowered her into the bed. Janet reappeared in record time, now wearing black cords instead of jeans.