Chapter 14
Mary carried the disinfected chamber pots back to Lee’s room, sliding one into the potty chair and placing the other beside Lee on the bed. Lee watched her with his red eyes.
“How are you feeling?”
He shook his head slowly and closed his eyes.
Not good.
Mary had already decided to go see Clyde. Maybe that would give him a boost.
“You know Tara planned to stop at Clyde’s on the way to see the Resistance, Lee. And we both expected her back last night. I think it’s time to go to Clyde’s to see if he knows anything.
Lee opened his eyes. “I think that’s a good idea,” he said, voice weak.
Mary could’ve sworn he looked better after her suggestion. She noticed two bites from the crabapple bread.
At least he’s trying to eat.
“We need to find out something. If Clyde doesn’t have any idea, I may try to go to the headquarters at the factory. I hate leaving you alone Lee, but we need to know what’s going on.
Lee agreed. “I’ll be okay.”
He sure didn’t look okay. There just wasn’t any other option. She took her gun from her pocket and laid it on the bedside table. It was too risky to take it out with her, and this way Lee could defend himself if anyone broke in.
“Is there anything else I can leave you?” She glanced around the sickroom and the nearly full gallon of ORS sitting beside his glass. “Drink your ORS.” Mary told him. Lee nodded. “I’ll be back shortly.” Mary laid her hand on his foot through the blankets. “Try to rest.”
Lee nodded again, but his eyes were bright with fever, watching her. He was as desperate as Mary to know what happened to Tara.
Mary closed Lee’s door and went through the disinfecting routine. She retrieved the tinfoil packet of last night’s supper for Clyde and dug out her warmest coat. She found her gloves and scarf in the pockets, and put them on. Mary opened the back door, gave one backward glance into the kitchen, and decided to take a large butcher knife, just in case.
So many scenarios had been running in Mary’s head, different ways something could have gone wrong for Tara. The Resistance may have turned Tara down and she had to go on her own. Mary knew she would have.
Tara is brave, and Lee’s life is at stake, so there is no question in my mind. She would have risked anything.
An inch of soft snow was on the ground now and still coming down. It was beautiful, but created the issue of tracks for anyone to follow. That was a frightening thought. Mary glanced behind her at her obvious progress down the alley, and decided to step off into the gutter running alongside the pavement. She was still making tracks, but maybe not quite as obvious.
A sudden noise from behind her somewhere made her jerk her head around. She could just see a white van passing on the next street over. It was cruising slowly, as if looking for something. Mary quickly ducked behind a larger tree trunk, waiting. She heard the van turn left, out onto the main street
. It’s not safe out here.
Clyde’s house was just ahead, and Mary trotted the last half block, wanting to get out of sight. Once again, she looked down at her footprints in the snow, and back over her shoulder. It worried her.
She decided to skirt to the left at Clyde’s backyard to minimize the visible tracks. She walked along the inside border of some small rose bushes on Clyde’s neighbor’s side. Then she crossed to the rear of Clyde’s house, walking in single-file steps along the very base of the foundation.
There, that works.
Mary glanced around, checking for the van, then approached Clyde’s back door, knocking lightly several times. She waited, and then knocked again. The sound of the knob rattling and the deadbolt unlocking sent a huge surge of relief through her.
“Hello Missy!” Clyde called softly, his voice wavering with age and disuse. The old man beamed at her, obviously grateful for company.
“Hello Clyde! I am very glad to see you well.”
“Likewise, my dear, where’s Tara? Did she find another set of bolt cutters?”
Mary realized now Tara must have made it there. “Clyde, we haven’t heard a thing from her. We expected her back by last night. She was going to go get help to break my daughter and grandson out of the camp.”
Clyde rubbed his wrinkled chin. “Well, she stopped here first, and when she left, she asked me if I had bolt cutters. Said she might need to come back for them, if the Resistance wouldn’t help her. She didn’t come back, so I figured they decided to help.”
“I don’t know. All I know is she didn’t come back, Clyde, and I’m pretty sure something went terribly wrong or she would have. Even if the Resistance told her to wait until tonight, she would have come home, because her husband Lee is extremely sick.”
Clyde looked thoughtful for a moment. “Yes, she told me about that. Tara’s been awful good to me. I’m worried about her now,” he said.
“Well, you can’t tell the good guys from the bad guys anymore. That’s what scares me most.” Mary pulled the tinfoil packet from her coat pocket. “I saved you some of last night’s supper. It’s not much, but I thought you might enjoy it.”
“My land, yes, and thank you, Missy.” Clyde smacked his lips and turned on the little bottled-gas camp stove on the table. He got a small pan down from the cupboard and lovingly scraped the food into it. Mary watched him sadly. He truly was a bag of parchment-thin skin stretched over bones.
Well, he’s in his nineties so I suppose it’s to be expected.
“I think I’m going on to the factory, Clyde. I need to know what happened. I believe they may be the only ones who do know.” Clyde stirred the pan of food and leaned over to smell it.
“Merry Christmas from all of us, Clyde,” Mary said. She knew Tara would have done the same for the old gentleman.
“Mmm, thank you again for this,” he told her, “and Merry Christmas to you and yours. And please be careful. Will you stop back and tell me if you hear any news? In fact, would you stop by either way? Just so I know?”
Mary nodded, agreeing. “I will.”
She left by the back door again, cautiously looking both ways before stepping outside. Mary followed along her original tracks, which had already been nearly obliterated by fresh snow. Back at the alley, she again walked in the gutter. She made a left turn on the next street, heading toward the railroad tracks, which led to the factory. The wind rattled the trees above her, obscuring any other sounds in the heavy snowfall. It was really coming down now.
She didn’t hear the white van’s slow approach in the soft, thick snow. It muffled the tires. When she finally did hear, she panicked and started to run. This was the worst thing she could’ve done. An armed guard jumped from the side door and chased her down easily, wrestling her back inside.
Dear God no.
All she could think of was Lee, dying alone of Ebola.
~
Tara opened her eyes to see Julie sitting on the edge of her cot, watching her. “What time is it?”
“It’s almost noon. It is Christmas Eve day and it’s snowing,” Julie said with a smile.
Tara sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “God, I miss coffee.”
Julie gave one of her little snorts and agreed. “Lunch line should start soon, if that’s any consolation.”
Tara’s stomach growled at the thought. She glanced about the room. A few residents shambled zombie-like around the large space. Others sat on the edges of their cots, waiting for food apparently. Ben was still curled up beside his mom, but he suddenly opened his eyes and flashed her a beautiful smile.
“Hello, honey.” Tara realized Julie was right. His weakness was a blessing in disguise. A child here in these conditions was beyond terrible.
“Hi,” Ben answered, closing his eyes again. Julie rubbed his back, leaning down to kiss him. “Melanie often does blood-typing on new patients in the lunch room. If she’s there, I’m going to try to get the tubing and plasma, so we’ll be ready to run. Lee’s blood type is O?”
“Yes O, same as mine.”
“Good. That means you can receive plasma from all donors. That will make it easier for her to steal some, I’m sure.”
“I’m glad you know this stuff, because I sure don’t,” Tara told her.
“The plasma is frozen too, by the way. It lasts up to a year if you keep it like that. If Mel can get us some, we can slide it under the fence at the edge of the building, along with the tubing and needles. Thank God, it’s so cold, it will keep it from thawing. I remember years where December was more like fall.”
Tara nodded. “That’s a great idea—they took my backpack, so I have nowhere else to put it. I’m glad now I
didn’t
bring my gun. It would be long gone.” She had a sudden vision of the bolt cutters, just yards away from the fence. “I laid a pair of bolt cutters down on the bank outside. I’d kill to have them now.” She saw a shadow cross Julie’s face.
“Do you really think the resistance will be coming for us?”
The more Tara thought about it, the more her doubt increased, especially now that Kevin was dead.
If they somehow know Kevin’s gone, or even have any inkling of it, I don’t think we’d be worth the risk.
However, she couldn’t tell Julie that. No way.
Maybe Julie’s positive thinking and her putting out all that rescue imagery into the universe might actually help us.
“I know they will,” she lied.
Julie’s expression softened again, and Tara knew she’d done right to fib. The image of Kevin’s son Luke, and his wife Jenny flashed in her mind, and her stomach clenched. She had only met them once that night Kevin had approached her and Mary. Tara thought she remembered seeing his wife in the factory office there too, but neither had come on the rescue mission. Tara pictured their agony on learning their husband and father had been taken. If they knew he was dead, she believed that would keep them from helping her.
It’s all my fault.
A whistle sounded from somewhere outside, and the inhabitants of the barracks began a slow zombie-ish shuffle toward the door. Julie stood up, lifting Ben in her arms.
Here we go.
Tara stayed close to Julie as they took their place among the others heading to the door. She remembered her facemask, and pulled it up around her mouth and nose. Everyone filed through, roughly two at a time, following those ahead of them across the snowy expanse between their building and the next. Tara was surprised to see so much snow had fallen and was still coming down. A vision of the bolt cutters covered in a thick white blanket flashed in her head. She was still trying to figure out some way to get at them.
They walked the twenty-five feet across to the lunch barracks, located in what appeared to be a hastily assembled building among the rows of new construction. Another line of people coming from somewhere beyond the lunch building was integrating into their line. Alarmed, Tara inclined her head in their direction. Julie answered with a frown, “Those aren’t survivors.”
This frightened Tara, and before she could quiz Julie further, they arrived at the door.
As Tara stepped through the threshold, the smell of food struck her, and her stomach instantly reacted with a growl. Even little Ben, in Julie’s arms, raised his head. His mother whispered to him, “I’m setting you down now,” and she did, making sure he had his balance before she let go.
Tara glanced around at the rows and rows of picnic tables. The front of the room had a steel counter that ran nearly the full length of the building, stoves and refrigerators lined up behind it. The food workers stood just on the other side of the counter, their white facemasks hiding all expression.
Julie began telling her a little about the victuals. “When they go back around the neighborhoods to collect the people they’ve vaccinated, they raid their pantries too.” Julie paused. “Sort of seems like adding insult to injury, doesn’t it? Anyway, the crews always know which houses are empty, so they take all the cans stored in the homes. They’ve long since raided the Walmart and Dollar Stores in the strip mall out front. They have food collection down to a science, but they still don’t feed us much.” She stroked Ben’s head sadly. “Yes, they need us, but we’re expendable. I guess we wouldn’t be eating much better on the outside anyway.”
Tara told Julie it was bad on the outside, and they had been foraging for wild food, so a soup line looked good to her. The kitchen workers behind the long metal counter dipped out ladles full of soup, and splashed them into white bowls with the spoons already in them. The line moved slowly, each person taking their bowl and moving off to sit at a picnic table.
As Tara approached her bowl and reached out for it, a noise from behind them made her jerk quickly around. Someone in the line a few persons down from them was throwing up. People were backing away from him. Tara caught sight of his white face as he retched, and the blood pouring from his mouth. Julie immediately pushed her forward, grabbing a bowl for Ben and herself, as Tara secured her own.
They rushed to the far end of the room, where Julie directed Tara to sit as far away from all the others as she could. Most people stayed closest to the door, not having enough strength to go a single step further than they absolutely needed.
The shock of an obviously active Ebola patient rattled Tara badly. Julie noticed the expression on her face.