In their dining room, she recognized two people from today at the clinic at another table and nodded at them. The feeling that gave her was odd, as if she were a real doctor, someone who needed to be professional on off-hours and maintain a cool distance. She could feel herself wanting to speak less at the table, to avoid eye contact. It wasn’t merely her distrust of strangers, either. This reticence was about being The Doctor. Would she have lasted as a doctor in the former world? Maybe working as a surgeon—
“Coral!” It was Abigail.
Half the table was staring at her, waiting for her to respond to some question. “I’m sorry. I was lost in thought. What did you say?”
“I asked if you wanted your hair cut after supper.”
“Thank you,” said Coral. “I would. And then I’d like to make it an early night, crawl into bed.”
“Hard day at work?” said Abigail.
Coral gave a non-committal shrug. “I’m tired. Still catching up on eating, I guess.” She looked down at her plate. The food was already gone and she had no idea what she’d been eating. Tuna, by the taste in her mouth.
“We’ll go straight home,” said Abigail.
“Not me. I need to drop by the library,” said Doug. “But I’ll be there fifteen minutes after you.”
Light was fading from the gray world as she, Benjamin, and Abigail hurried across campus and to the apartment buildings.
She and Abigail took the two metal chairs outside, to get the most of the dim light. Abigail cut Coral’s hair, fiddling with it until Doug walked up and said, “Looks good,”
“I don’t know,” said Abigail, backing up and studying her. “I didn’t have much to work with.”
“I’m sure it’s fine, thank you,” said Coral, summoning a smile. “When people compliment me on it tomorrow, should I send them to you for their own haircuts?”
“God, no,” said Abigail. “Too nerve-wracking.”
The three of them went inside, where Benjamin was sitting next to a window with a scrap of rawhide in his bare hand, turning it this way and that. His right boot was on his lap.
“What’re you up to?” asked Doug.
“Thinking about if I can fix Coral’s old boots. The shoes she has now aren’t that great for walking on snow.”
“Where’d you find the leather?”
“I asked Tyler—you know him?—for it when I caught sight of it today in a scrap pile.” He put his boot back on but didn’t lace it. “Where are your old boots, Coral?”
“I don’t know. Not upstairs in the room?”
Abigail said, “I took them to the clothing storage, sorry. I didn’t know you’d want them. No offense, but nobody would have grabbed them in that condition, so I’m sure they’re still there if you want them.”
“Okay,” Benjamin said. “Maybe you can show me where that is tomorrow on the way to breakfast, and I’ll do what I can to fix them.” He cocked his head at Coral. “You wanted to get to sleep early?”
“I did,” she said. “Thanks again for the haircut, Abigail. And for letting us stay here.”
“You’re totally welcome,” Doug said.
“Absolutely,” Abigail echoed. “I love having the company.” There was a wistful note in her voice.
Coral and Benjamin climbed the dim staircase. Behind them, they could hear the soft murmur of the others’ voices. They stripped off shoes and gloves and crawled under the stack of blankets and quilts that were piled on the futon.
Benjamin lay on his back. Coral turned to face him, so she could talk right into his ear and keep her voice low. “Tell me the best way to approach Levi, if I want to get something out of him.”
“Hmm,” Benjamin said. “I guess your best approach is to act like him. That hearty, bluff, fake thing he does like a salesman. Problem is, I think he’ll be hard to pin down.”
“How do you mean?”
“Oh, he’ll nod like he’s agreeing, but then he’ll ignore what you said and do what he wants to do anyway. You watch.”
“Will he make promises that he’ll break, do you think?”
“Absolutely, and with a straight face. No hesitation, no guilty look, nothing. He’d say a bald lie. And maybe deny a few days later that he ever said that, precisely. Or he’ll say it’s in the works and keep putting you off. I’d bet money on it.” He made an amused sound. “If there was still such a thing as money.”
“Okay,” she said. “So what if I tell him you’re working with me? Not ask.
Tell
.”
“But why would we do that? We can’t suddenly say I have medical training, too. If that were the case, we’d have said so when they caught us out there.”
“I know.” Coral’s thoughts scrambled around, and finally she lit on one idea. “Because you’re a man.”
“You mean, like, protection for the clinic? Standing guard?”
“No. I’ll say, there are male patients, and what if they have something sensitive they don’t want to talk to the female staff about, especially to me, a stranger.”
“Like an STD?”
“Or prostrate problems or erectile dysfunction. Guy stuff.”
“I think most guys can talk to their doctors about that, even if she’s female.”
“Not older men, maybe. Or teens.”
“Erectile dysfunction generally doesn’t strike teenage boys. And so far, I’ve only seen two people in town who look to be over fifty.”
He was right about the lack of old people. “I wonder why there aren’t more. You don’t think they drove them out early on?”
“Nah” he said. A minute of silence passed, and then he said, “Strike that. Not impossible. I’d give it maybe a one in ten chance that happened.”
“One in ten? That’s a pretty high number. You don’t trust them.”
“Do you?”
“I’ve felt nervous since the beginning, but I thought I was being paranoid and kept talking myself into going along with everything. I do think Abigail and Doug are on the level, and probably Edith. But I believe your gut feelings more than I believe anybody else’s promises and explanations. If I found out something horrible about the three people I think are okay, that wouldn’t shock me, either. Nothing would shock me.”
“Not any more.”
“Exactly,” she said. “By the way, has anyone told you about bath day?”
“Huh? No.”
“Edith mentioned it. Saturdays, they use the kitchen all day after breakfast for baths. They boil water and run all three hundred people through, a dozen at a time, twenty minutes shifts, eight or nine hours of it, all told. They have to eat cold food that night, but everybody gets a warm—or at least a tepid—bath once a week.”
“Waste of fuel. They don’t have much extra to be using it like that.”
Coral thought having clean hair and clothes once a week sounded great, but he was probably right about the fuel. Maybe the town leaders thought the boost to morale was worth burning through fuel for baths. “Tell me what you did see today, about the fuel stores and anything else we might need to know.”
For the rest of the evening, they told each other what they’d seen and heard of the city, its supplies, its defenses, and its strengths and weaknesses. By the time she was drifting off, Coral was reassured that they could escape, if need be. During the day, there were people going from one job to another, or out supervising kids. At night, there were perimeter guards, but there were miles to patrol, and Benjamin said they could slip past.
It was time to start planning and collecting whatever would not be missed. She wanted to be ready to run at a moment’s notice if things took a bad turn here. She didn’t want to put that off, either.
Her fishing gear was still with her. For some reason, they hadn’t asked for it. Her knife was in her pocket, returned to her—she reached down to touch it to reassure herself of that. They had their burlap sacks and a short length of nylon rope. More rope would be good. A few cans of food would be nice. Real backpacks—or at least one—would help tremendously.
The hatchet and the rifle were the most important supplies.
And they’d be the hardest to get back.
The next morning at breakfast, Coral hunted through the dining rooms until she found Parnell. “I’d like to see Levi this morning, first thing.” She didn’t let any hint of supplication or weakness into her voice. She was the doctor, and she was making a statement, not asking a question.
“Why?”
“Staff. Supplies. Scheduling.” When he hesitated she said, “I have a half hour before I need to be at the clinic, so this is the best time for me.”
He still looked doubtful, but he said, “Come along, then. I’ll see if he can squeeze you in. Mornings are always busy for him, so no promises.”
She nodded her acknowledgment. She was trying to act like the professional they were treating her like, and busy doctors don’t beg for ten minutes of the mayor’s time or fall all over themselves being grateful for it. She had talked about it again this morning with Benjamin, and he gave her a phrase from his time in AA: “Fake it until you can make it.” She was hanging on to that thought, faking a position of adult, professional power the best she could.
Parnell sent Benjamin off to join Kathy on the perimeter, which is not what she wanted at all. She almost protested, but she realized she could retrieve him in moments, once she made his job at the clinic official.
Benjamin glanced back at her as he left the dining area. They understood each other so well, a glance was as clear to her as five minutes of talk from someone else.
Her back was straight as she marched alongside Parnell to the library. Inside the front door, she pushed back her jacket’s hood and stuck her mask in her pocket. As she trooped up the stairs behind him, she finger-combed her new haircut.
Outside of Levi’s office, she refused a chair and stood, like a woman with more important places to go. If she had a watch, she’d ostentatiously check it.
Underneath the act, she was extremely nervous. When Parnell came out and said, “You have ten minutes,” she had to resist a dozen urges toward nervous gestures and forced herself to walk, calm and straight, into Levi’s office.
“Thank you for seeing me,” she said. Behind her, the door shut.
“You’re settling in?”
“We are,” she said. “I’m here to talk about the clinic. I’d like Benjamin to come and work with me there.”
Levi drew back, clearly surprised at the request. “Why?”
She gave him the reasons she’d invented last night and added, “And then there’s Edith. She has worked without a break, and if I can get him trained, we can start giving her a day or two off every week. I’m sure you’ll agree that she deserves them.”
“No doubt,” he said, leaning back in his chair. He steepled his fingers together and studied her.
Again, she felt the urge to smooth her hair, lick her lips, or look away. She managed to stand still and keep eye contact.
Something flashed over his face, a reflection of a thought, but she couldn’t read him. He leaned forward. “That isn’t necessary.”
“Perhaps not. But it will be useful. It will help me to give the best care I can to the most people in Boise.” She had learned to pronounce it correctly by now: Boy-see, like the natives said.
His glance fell on his desk. “I don’t think that’s the best use of his skill set.” His eyes returned to meet hers.
She could see his interest had drifted away. “Perhaps not. But think of it this way. I’d be happier.”
“Why? From what I understand, you’ve have plenty of alone time together since the disaster. So it can’t be that. You’re not still on your honeymoon, I take it?”
She ignored the question. She wasn’t going to get what she wanted, so she served up a dollop of honesty. “We’ve had some rough times out there. We’ve learned it’s dangerous to let anyone separate us. I can use him at the clinic, and it’d make me happier.”
“Of course your happiness is important to me,” he said. “But I have other issues to think about as well. One is getting your husband trained to do several jobs, so he can contribute here. Another is to get as many teams out on recon as possible, finding more food. I understand he’s an experienced hunter. If there is any game out there to be had, we need him there.”
“He won’t be able to hunt without a rifle.”
“He’ll get one, once he’s out beyond the city limits. Until we know you both better, I’m sure you can understand our hesitancy to have strangers running around the city with firearms.”
It made sense, but wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “I understand your point about that. I would still prefer him to work with me.”
He pulled a clipboard with some handwritten papers on it toward him. It was a dismissal. “Thanks for stopping by. I’ll give it some thought.”
She was certain he would not. His decision was made. “Hey,” she said, irritated by his attitude. “You’re not hearing me.”
He responded without looking up from the clipboard. “You have an assignment.”
“Fine,” she said. “Put me out on guard, too. I don’t mind doing a job for you, as long as it’s with him.”
“I’ve seen this sort of thing before,” he said, putting down his clipboard. “You’re traumatized. Perfectly normal, I’m sure. So instead of what you think you need, we’ll give you what you actually need. Get you past those bad experiences. Get you integrated into the community here.”
“What?” Where was he going with this?
“We have a counselor—she’s a social worker—who knows quite a bit about PTSD. I think it’s important to have you talk with her. See if we can get you past this irrational fear of yours. We’re not going to hurt you, and we’re not going to hurt your husband. It’s your overwrought imagination making you think we will.”
A half-dozen responses flitted through her mind. She rejected all of them, along with the image of leaping across the desk and shaking him. That wouldn’t disprove his point about PTSD at all. She stood her ground.
“Enjoy your day at the clinic. I hear good things about you.” He gave her a smile that oozed oil.
She hated him already. And she had no good response to him. He had power. She did not. That disparity was the cost of civilization.
Turning her back without another word, she marched out the door and past Parnell. She hurried down the steps and outside, where a gust of bitter wind slapped her. She stood there and panted, trying to get her anger under control. Or fear. She couldn’t tell which emotion it was.
Great. You screwed that up.
Not only did she not get what she wanted, now to appease him, she’d have to see some stupid social worker. It would be laughable, really, the whole situation...except that this morning’s meeting with Levi had made her distrust him, and this situation, all the more.
She and Benjamin would both have to watch their backs.