The Nuclear Catastrophe (a fiction novel of survival) (28 page)

Dr. Parsons disliked dispensing the precious medicines to such an obviously lost case. Somehow, though, he felt a surge of admiration for the woman. She hadn
’
t quit hoping, hadn
’
t given up. Reluctantly he agreed.
“
Could you give him the injections if you had the syringe?
”

She nodded eagerly.
“
Of course.
”

“
All right, I
’
ll give you this. Every six hours you fill this syringe up to 30cc and shoot it into his muscle. You won
’
t be able to sterilize the needle other than to soak it in some alcohol between shots. I wish I could give you something for pain, but I just don
’
t have anything, Mrs. Harrington. Here, take this, too. Maybe it
’
ll help stave off the vomiting.
”

“
He
’
s been running a high fever, Doctor. What can I do for that?
”
she asked in a tone suddenly lighter, less worried.

“
What have you been doing?
”
asked the doctor.

“
Giving him aspirin which he usually throws up, and bathing him in cool water.
”

“
Keep giving him the aspirin, but the baths, I don
’
t know. The water is radioactive. You
’
re just exposing him to more radiation.
”
But Parsons would not be able to abate her feeble efforts, or convince her to avoid the cooling towels—they were the only recourse she had to help Ben be comforted even slightly.

“
Are you going to check his arm, Doctor? We were sure it was broken so I put a splint on it.
”
She grimaced at the memory.

He carelessly inspected the splints.
“
You did a pretty decent job, Mrs. Harrington.
”

“
But how about the bones? Can you tell if they
’
re set straight or not?
”
she asked hopefully.

“
Mrs. Harrington, we don
’
t have access to x-ray machines, and quite frankly, the condition of the bones is his least concern, I
’
d say. There would be absolutely no point in causing him further pain by moving that arm around. Let
’
s leave it as it is, all right?
”
Dr. Parsons was anxious to be rid of the subject of Ben Harrington. It was a futile case. His attention was demanded with other, less terminal patients awaiting him. The surgeon
’
s nature did not include being niggardly with his skilled services or medications, but the situation was forcing him to make snap decisions on the survivors. Those who appeared at death
’
s door were treated with consideration; but precious drugs were to be used sparingly in their cases. Better to save the medication for others with wider margins between themselves and death.

Sara clutched at his sleeve as he began moving away from Ben.
“
There
’
s nothing more you can do, Doctor?
”

Parsons paused, sensing the desperation in the woman.
“
No, Mrs. Harrington. I
’
m sorry.
”

Sara slowly dropped her head in disappointment.

The doctor collected his instruments.
“
I
’
m really sorry. I don
’
t feel any the less helpless than you do—seeing this human suffering and knowing there
’
s so little I can do to relieve it. We
’
re running out of everything and still people are pouring in on us. No water, drug supplies practically exhausted, and personnel who are....well, we
’
re hardly fit to treat anybody now.
”

Parsons turned and wearily began making his way toward the isolation unit.

“
Doctor,
”
Sara yelled after him,
“
is there any other hospital treating radiation victims?
”

He replied through the darkness,
“
I don
’
t know of one. But then we don
’
t have a communications system anymore.
”

The doctor gently brushed grasping hands away as they clutched at his jacket, pleading to be allowed inside.
 

Getting Ben into his own bed sapped the last of Sara
’
s endurance. The fist-sized muscular pump pounded against the inside of her chest. Breathing in short, labored gasps, Sara stumbled through the rooms until she came to the can of food.

Without the liquid, the beans were dried and shriveled from the air. Carefully she bent the lid away and reached in with her fingers. They
’
d been her breakfast and the remainder were her dinner. She chewed down on the pulpy mass, thoroughly masticating them before plunging them down her esophagus. She was not surprised that with her parched throat, swallowing green beans was similar to peanut butter. The bolus kept attaching to the dry tube, clogging the route to the stomach. Her spine rested against a cabinet door as she sat in the dark, munching, swallowing, then coughing up the bolus, and swallowing again until it finally passed down.

Searching in the darkness, she finally located the bottle of wine. Tilting it, she drank greedily. The wine, why hadn
’
t she thought of it for Ben? She had given him that terrible juice from the beans thinking it would have nourishment in it. As soon as she got her breath back, she would try to get the burgundy down him.

She slid down again to rest on the floor as she consumed the last of the beans. Her thin legs were stretched out straight in front, still trembling from the exertion of moving Ben. Feeling out the one remaining length of vegetable, Sara slipped it into her mouth and mumbled,
“
God, how I wish the wind would blow.
”

Chapter Eleven

Althea switched the knob, breaking the connection with the radio station. What was the meaning of those numbers? She knew there were different levels of radiation, but what was the real meaning of the numbers? A task force was at last monitoring the fringes of the disaster zone and findings were hourly reported over the radio. But what counted to Althea were the radiation levels here in Los Angeles. What was happening to their bodies—their lives?

The residents didn
’
t need to be told of the stagnant front. They felt the compression, the heaviness in the clouds, the layer of warm air trapped beneath the inversion. How long would the poison hover above them like a toxic blanket? When would it scatter?

Filling the bookshelf were the thick, maroon-colored volumes that her father had bought prior to his retirement. Althea recalled the event clearly. Because Jess Carr had lacked any formal education, he
’
d planned to spend his evenings making up for lost time. He had extravagantly paid three hundred dollars, faithfully paying them off in installments, for a complete set of encyclopedias—his contention being that once he
’
d read every book, he
’
d have better than a college education.  He never learned to use a computer.  And the encyclopedias were no longer printed.  But out of date or not they were a place to start. Internet service providers continued to be on and off in the LA area and her smart phone was  directly affected.

She withdrew the correct volume, opened the imitation leather cover, and selected the right page where she began reading. At first she skimmed the printed matter, pausing at times to absorb some important point. The information was largely foreign to her, with her smattering of college science. Beta and gamma rays....alpha particles....penetration depths that sent the invisible dangers through the skin of man into underlying organs....it was almost too much to fathom. Slowly she went back through the pages, digesting what she could and committing other information to memory. In all, there was nothing in the book which eased her apprehension. There were no words as to how one could protect oneself against these hazards. It was useless at this point to read that certain high energy rays could pass through solid concrete blocks five feet thick. It was too late. There was no way that the defenseless population could avoid exposure to the radiation permeating the atmosphere—no way at all.

Finished, Althea allowed the pages to flutter shut beneath her fingers. In reflecting on what she
’
d read it became evident that this whole incident was a great deal more horrifying than she had originally thought. What degree of safety could possibly be afforded by six inches of stucco wall in a house when radiation could penetrate five feet of concrete? And going out into the open air, needlessly exposing oneself was sheer stupidity. Yet Althea had to take that further risk of exposure. The insulin for her mother had to be found. She
’
d failed yesterday. Today she
’
d have to succeed. Althea pressed her head between her palms, as if she could press out her deepening sense of futility. A timid knock sounded on her door.

“
Althea? Is it all right if I come in?
”

“
Yes, Papa.
”
She didn
’
t want to talk to her father right now. The burden of her parents weighed on her like a giant yoke today. She didn
’
t resent her responsibility for them, but what could she do to spare them these dangers? Or find the hormone that her mother must have shortly? Her automobile was gone. Damn Los Angeles, anyway, for being the sprawling city it was. Damn it for making a four-wheeled machine a necessity of life. Damn her own panic and stupidity for leaving the keys in the car.

Her father
’
s expression was one of worry—his face etched in fatigue. The situation was taking its toll on him. Looking closely at her, her father spoke softly,
“
It
’
s going to be pretty bad, isn
’
t it?
”
She hadn
’
t fooled him. She never had been able to.
“
I
’
m afraid so, Papa.
”

Minutes passed before he spoke again.
“
We don
’
t have anything left to drink, darling. I guess we didn
’
t pay much attention to stretching the juices as far as they
’
d go.
”

She had prayed for relief before it came to this.

He fidgeted nervously, chewing on some imaginary cud in his cheek.
“
When do you think they
’
ll send someone in for us?
”

She didn
’
t want to say that chances of being rescued before the inversion lifted and the radiation dispersed were remote. Who could be expected to charge into this area and bring food and water to the helpless at this time?
“
Soon, I hope,
”
she finally replied.

“
Althea, your mother didn
’
t sleep last night,
”
he complained.
“
She walked the floor until daylight....I guess by morning she was so tired she had to get some rest so she finally lay down for awhile.
”

“
I know, Papa. I heard her.
”

“
She
’
s upset, Althea. She
’
s afraid we won
’
t find any insulin for her.
”

The woeful sound in her father
’
s voice and the abject misery in his face caused a well of depression to build in Althea.

“
She
’
ll use the last of the insulin this morning, but after that, what are we going to do?
”
he asked.

“
I
’
m going to try to get to one of the community hospitals,
”
Althea promised.
“
I
’
ll leave as quickly as I can.
”
Immediately she began putting on a pair of sturdy walking shoes.

For a moment Jess seemed uncertain.
“
It may not be safe for you to be out alone....I
’
m going with you.
”