by Chris Pike
“Mom! Don’t pass out.” Kinsey jostled her mom’s shoulder.
“It’s over,” Ethan said.
“Mom, it’s over,” Kinsey repeated.
“I’m going to wrap this then change it tomorrow. It’s important to keep the area clean.”
Becca opened her eyes and focused on the people near her. “Did you get it?”
“Yes. You did good,” Ethan said, reassuring her.
“My leg is throbbing.”
“You’ll feel better soon. Take another shot of whiskey. It’ll help with the pain. Really, it will.”
Becca swallowed the shot. “Thank you for helping me.” She placed her hand on Ethan’s arm to show how grateful she was.
“You’re welcome,” Ethan said. “Kinsey, would you get some snacks out of the backpack and pass them out? I’ll get drinks.”
The four sat in a circle using chairs Ethan had found earlier. A metal trashcan turned upside down substituted as a table. While the family crunched on the energy bars and talked among themselves, Ethan kept quiet. He was worried about Becca’s wound. When he disinfected the area, washing away the dried blood and grime, it allowed him to see the redness surrounding the wound. The previous day, her leg was a better color. Today, not so good. He had looked for antibiotics in the discarded purses and bags, hoping someone had brought their medicine with them. Unable to find any meds, he got an idea. It was a longshot, yet one that might work, because if it didn’t, Becca wouldn’t last the week.
Chapter 16
The second day wore on. Throngs of survivors left the stadium, heading into the unknown where violence awaited them and where hardships would test the resolve of even the strongest. Rumors were rampant with theories of the EMP ranging anywhere from the Chinese invading the US, to rogue government officials planning a new country by writing a new Constitution and a new Bill of Rights.
Joe Buck and Oscar headed back to where Lexi was located. On the way, Joe took note of the stadium’s condition. Forty-eight hours had passed since the EMP struck, and the stadium had become a dangerous place to stay. Gangs of people had formed for safety, and it wouldn’t be long before disease broke out due to the rotting corpses and lack of proper sanitation. He made a decision to leave the following day and to help Lexi get to her grandmother’s house, located west of Houston.
Fulshear was once a sleepy little country town where Lexi’s grandmother called home—if the place could be called a town because the community had only recently gotten its first stoplight at the intersection of two farm-to-market roads—he estimated it to be about forty miles west from where they were located.
In the past five years, urban sprawl had consumed pastures where cattle roamed, horses galloped, and where creeks ran clear, for the construction of cookie-cutter homes. Centuries old oaks had been bulldozed, discarded in a pile with other native flora, replaced by several strip malls with a plethora of shops including those for CBD, yoga, fast food restaurants, dollar stores, dance studios, dental offices, and insurance companies. Redwing blackbirds and scissortail birds once so common had been driven further west, away from the bulldozers and the hammering of construction.
“Lexi, I’m back,” Joe said.
Oscar padded over to Lexi and sniffed, taking in her unique smell. She reminded him of the other females his handler had introduced him to, some with squeaky voices, some husky. When Joe sat next to Lexi, Oscar immediately sensed Joe’s relaxed posture and his approval of the female, so Oscar showed his approval too. He licked her hand and placed his paw on her.
“I think he likes me,” Lexi cooed.
“It’s a good sign. Dogs are good judge of character.”
“It’s been a while since I had a dog. Being on the road doesn’t allow me the time or luxury to have a pet. Where’d you find him?” Lexi stroked Oscar on the flat part of his head, then to his back.
“Well, uh…” Joe trailed off, unsure exactly what to explain or how much.
“Is something wrong?”
“We found his handler.” Joe’s gaze flicked to Lexi then back to Oscar
“I’m afraid to ask.”
Joe shook his head. “Like I suspected. He’s dead.”
“I’m so sorry.” Lexi placed her hand on his arm, a small gesture but with large connotations of empathy.
“Yeah, well, I don’t mean to be crass, but that’s life. Some live, some don’t. I’m just glad Oscar stumbled upon us. No telling what would have happened to him if he hadn’t found us.”
Lexi couldn’t think of anything profound to say other than, “I’m sure your friend would be grateful if he knew you were taking care of his dog.”
For a few minutes neither Lexi nor Joe spoke, each keeping their thoughts private. Joe picked at a ragged cuticle, while Lexi petted Oscar. The repetitive motion of her hand going up and down Oscar’s back comforted both of them. Oscar sensed the goodness of Lexi, so didn’t protest when she petted him on his back. During the quiet moment, Lexi became aware of the discomfort in her jaw. She moved her jaw from side to side and massaged her cheek.
“How’s your tooth?” Joe asked.
“Not good. It’s getting worse, and I’m having trouble opening my mouth. I feel feverish too.”
Joe placed his hand on Lexi’s forehead. “You do feel warm.” Joe dug around in his backpack, pulled out a bottle of pain reliever, and handed Lexi two tablets. “Take these and drink plenty of water.”
“Thanks.”
“It’ll be getting dark soon, so we need to eat.”
“I’ll have a hamburger, medium well, mustard and mayo, lettuce and tomato, and an order of fries.” Lexi winked.
“Anything else?” Joe asked.
“A cold beer would be nice.”
“Coming right up.” Rising, Joe said, “If I can’t find any burgers, will a cold sandwich do?”
“Absolutely.”
Joe and Lexi ate a plain dinner with food Joe had found. The selection had dwindled due to the survivors combing through and hoarding the non-perishable food they could find. Joe talked about his life, reminiscing about his family and childhood. Lexi did the same, and talked about her musical career, and the demands placed on her.
“Are you happy doing what you do?” Joe asked. He took a bite of the cheese sandwich, and washed it down with a gulp of water.
“I’m happiest singing my own songs for people because I hope my music uplifts them and provides an escape from real life. All of us struggle with the same issues.”
“Such as?”
“Feeling valued, connecting with other people, wanting to be loved.”
“I agree. You didn’t answer my question regarding if you’re happy doing what you do.”
“I know.” Lexi broke off a piece of her sandwich and let Oscar nibble it from her fingers. “The answer is simple. I am happy singing. I don’t like singing at large venues, or the fame that comes with it, or contracts, and concerts, and being away from my family and friends. I’m much happier performing for a small group of people. It’s more intimate, and I’m able to connect with the audience.”
“I remember,” Joe said. “We had a special moment.”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Singing is like writing a book. The best books are when the writer lets it all hang out. The good, the bad…it has to come from here,” she said, patting her heart. “I can’t hide who I am when I sing, otherwise, what’s the use? Singing is an expression of the artist and allows them to share their true self, and to tell you the truth, it’s frightening. I bare my soul on stage, and I believe it’s the only thing that sets singers apart. Sometimes I cry when I sing because I’m feeling the emotions of the words. Hiding it destroys the connection. Although, I will tell you, I’ve never connected with anyone in the audience like I did with you at the honkytonk.”
“Good to know,” Joe said. In reality, he was more than good to know Lexi hadn’t connected with anyone else in her audience the way she connected with him. If she had, he wou
ld have been extremely worried.
Minutes passed, and Joe and Lexi ate in silence. The sounds of the remaining survivors waned as the sun began its descent below the horizon. Joe and Lexi tidied up their corner of the stadium, threw away their trash, and each made a trip to the restrooms. When darkness came, they slept on the rubber mats behind the counter. Oscar curled up next to Lexi, providing extra warmth on the chilly February night.
~ ~ ~
In the first light of the morning, Lexi blinked open her eyes, stretched her arms and as her lips parted to yawn, she winced. She mouthed, “Ouch.” The throbbing ache in her jaw had worsened. She touched the side of her face where it was sore to find it swollen more than the previous day.
She eased up so as not to wake Joe, then placed the makeshift blanket on the floor. In the restroom, she inspected her appearance. It startled her. She appeared worse than something a cat might have dragged into the house after swatting and toying with the poor creature. Dark circles under her eyes gave her the appearance of ill health, and her cheek was swollen and hot. On top of everything, she generally felt like crap.
She turned on the faucet and a trickle of water came out. She splashed water on her face and used the pumper soap to wash. What she really wanted was a hot shower and clean clothes. A hot bowl of her grandmother’s homemade chicken soup would be the best thing for her. Today, hopefully, she, Joe, and Oscar could start the long trek to her grandmother’s house.
Returning back to where Joe slept, Lexi knelt next to him and nudged his shoulder.
“Hmm?” he groggily mumbled.
“Let’s get an early start to my gramma’s place.” Lexi spoke like she was drunk and unable to form her words correctly.
Joe yawned. “Alright.”
“I’ll pack what we need,” Lexi managed to say.
“You sound funny.”
Lexi stood, wobbled, then used the edge of the bar to steady herself. Her vision went blank for a moment and her knees buckled.
“What’s wrong?” Joe asked.
Lexi didn’t answer him. She felt lightheaded, like she couldn’t control her movements. When her knees gave out, she slumped over and crumpled to the floor. Fortunately, Joe caught her on the way down. She woke a minute later to Joe inches away from her face.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I must have fainted.”
“You did. There’s no way you can make the trip to your gramma’s home.” Joe gently turned her head to the side. “Your face is swollen. I’m guessing your sore tooth is abscessed. I hate to say this, but it needs to come out. Plus, you need antibiotics.”
“It’s not like I can go to a dentist.” Lexi pushed herself up to a sitting position.
“We don’t need a dentist to pull a tooth.”
“What!” Lexi exclaimed. “I’m not letting any Tom, Dick, or Don the dentist pull my tooth.”
“I wouldn’t either, but you can let a Joe pull it.”
It took Lexi a long second to understand Joe’s last comment. Her mouth fell open – or as open as it could – and she wasn’t one bit impressed by his attempt at humor. “You?”
“Got a better idea?”
“No. I’d rather not lose my tooth.”
“Better to lose a tooth than your life,” Joe said.
“Good point. What do we do about antibiotics?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Joe said.
“And?” Lexi put her hands up, waiting for him to explain.
“The summer after my first year of college, I worked at a zoo as one of the veterinarian’s helpers. I thought I wanted to be a veterinarian, so I managed to get an internship. I know exactly what type of antibiotic you need.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to go to a pharmacy?”
“It would if the stores hadn’t already been looted of drugs.”
Lexi put her hand to her swollen cheek, cupping it. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“It’s happening,” Joe said. “I’m going to pack a bag and start walking to the zoo. Oscar will stay here with you, and with any luck I’ll be back by nightfall. If I don’t make it back…” He trailed off, unable to face Lexi.
“Then Oscar and I will be on our own.” Lexi’s apprehension was evident.
“I’m afraid so.”
“Then there’s only one outcome. You need to succeed.”
“I will,” Joe said. “You have enough food to get you through the day. Be careful to get up slowly and to take Oscar with you when you need to use the restroom. He knows how to protect people. On the slim chance I don’t make it back, do whatever you need to do to remove the tooth. It’s only going to get worse. If Tom Hanks can do it in Cast Away, you can do it too.”
“Wilson won’t be here to cheer me on,” Lexi deadpanned.
“Oscar will be.”
“Be safe,” Lexi said. “And come back to me.”
Chapter 17
Joe looped his backpack over his shoulder. “Stay safe and out of sight, Lexi.” He gave Oscar a pet on the head. “Guard Lexi and bite anyone who means her harm.” The dog didn’t understand him, it was more to console Lexi.
With a heavy heart, he walked away from the bar they had called home for two nights.
The stadium’s condition had deteriorated in the last twenty-four hours. Haggard survivors loitered near food vendor stations, protecting them like it was their own. Men armed themselves with pieces of rebar and gave Joe the stink eye when he walked past them. Bloated bodies were strewn about. Some had a coat or a piece of cloth over their faces, others hadn’t been afforded any sense of dignity in death. Pockets had been turned inside out. Contents of purses had been dumped on the floor.
On one of Joe’s earlier excursions to search for supplies, he had found a clean handkerchief. He reached into his pocket, removed the hankie, then tied it around his mouth and nose. The odor of decomposition hung heavy in the air.
The sun had peeked through the low clouds, offering warmth, and once Joe escaped the confines of the damp stadium, he welcomed the sun, standing in its rays like a turtle sunning on a rock.
Cars parked in the lot had either been broken into or were being guarded by adults. Children played near the cars with anything they could construct as a toy. Others were stretched out on the seats, sleeping. Somewhere a baby cried and a dog barked.
“Excuse me,” a woman said, running up to Joe. “My husband is having chest pains and he needs a doctor. Can you help us get him to a hospital?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I doubt the hospitals will take any patients. If you have any aspirin, then give him one.”
“I’ve asked whoever I’ve seen. Nobody is willing to help us. Please,” she pleaded. “You’re a good man, aren’t you? Can you help us?”
“Not right now. I should be back this way much later today. I can help you then. Where’s your car?”
“It’s over there,” she pointed. “The red jeep parked at the end of the row.”
“I see it,” Joe said. “Keep your husband calm, and I’ll try to find you some aspirin.”
“Thank you, thank you so much,” she said, clasping her hands to her bosom. She wrapped her arms around Joe, and said, “We will be forever grateful.”
Taken aback at the speed the woman hugged him, he gently pried her arms from him. “What’s your name?”
“Caroline. My husband is Tony.”
“I’m Joe. See you later today.”
Leaving the enormous parking lot packed with SUVs, sedans, motorcycles, and tents where tailgate parties had been underway, he decided his best route to the zoo was to take Main Street, which led directly in front of the zoo.
On his way out, he stopped by his truck where he left a few tools in the locked toolbox. Without a firearm he felt exposed and vulnerable, so a large plumber’s wrench would be better than nothing. Unfortunately, the toolbox had been vandalized, leaving him without so much as a screwdriver.
Great.
By the way the cro
w flies, the zoo would be less than ten miles away, except Joe was no crow. He’d have to zigzag his way to Main Street, then navigate the massive medical complex where the famed hospitals were located on nearly five square miles of buildings, parking lots, skyways, and landscaped grounds. Unfortunately, Joe knew the area well. That period in his life was too painful to revisit.
He plodded on, one step at a time.
The immediate area near NRG Stadium was densely populated with apartment complexes, fast food restaurants, strip centers, and office buildings housing local businesses. The area was also known to have gangs – a problem well-known to Joe. He kept his wits about him, taking in his environment, searching for anything out of place.
His imposing presence and steely eyes would normally intimidate anyone with unwelcome motives aimed toward him. Of course, his strategy worked in a civil society, and from what he had witnessed at the stadium, society had digressed faster than any bell curve could have predicted.
The grocery store he passed had been reduced to a jumble of broken windows, overturned carts, a smashed vending machine, and empty shelves. A cat scurried around the corner when Joe approached the store, followed by three large dogs running after it. They were street-smart mixed breed dogs, partly feral, accustomed to a hard life of survival, without a home to take shelter in during bad weather. The chase ended out of sight of Joe, and when he came to the corner, he witnessed the dogs tearing the poor cat to pieces. Two days of hunger had driven the dogs to desperation. He’d better be sure to have all his wits about him when entering the zoo.
With any luck, he would make it to the zoo by early afternoon. He’d find the antibiotics he needed, then be back with Lexi by nightfall.
There was one problem.
It wasn’t Joe’s lucky day.
Chapter 18
Joe Buck approached the bridge over Brays Bayou, a murky, slow-moving river traversing through the southern part of Houston for thirty-one miles starting at the western edge of Harris County, then converging with Buffalo Bayou on the eastern side of the city.