by N. C. Reed
Until things settled into something like normalcy, whatever that was going to look like, no matter who was in the cupola, one of the former soldiers would be on the ground. No one knew what was going to happen and Clay didn't even entertain the idea of someone else, even Gordy, being on foot in the dark when hostiles came to call.
Meanwhile, regardless of what happened where, there were cattle to tend, fences to check, equipment to see to. Most of the farm's equipment was still in storage and Gordon was content to let it stay there for the time being. There was little need for the massive tractors or harvesters, and running them would only draw attention. They had two trucks out along with the military vehicles and ATVs for use on the farm. Since no one was going to town that would suffice.
Except for one problem.
“I have patients I need to see,” Patricia announced calmly. “I have waited almost two weeks, but some of those people will need to see me.”
“Why?” Clay asked calmly.
“I need to check on them, see that their conditions are holding on, check their medications and…” she trailed off as she realized what she was saying.
“If they're out of meds, what can you do?” Clay asked, though his voice was soft. There was no demand there, just simple curiosity.
“Well, I do have an encyclopedia of home remedies I can try,” she sighed. “And there are a few that can be replaced by natural supplements that can be found in plants around here. And we can use marijuana to help those in pain,” she added, her mind working to come up with solutions.
“I don't happen to have any and doesn't it need warm weather to grow?” Clay asked. He had no knowledge whatever of marijuana. None.
“We've got seed,” Barnes surprised him. “And the gear to grow a small amount inside even in winter. Bought it from a guy,” he shrugged at Clay's raised eyebrows, then turned to Patricia.
“We thought the same thing,” he told her. “Using it as an analgesic. Pain reliever. You can take it in wafers or tablet’s, you don't have to smoke it. Kaitlin has books like yours, too,” Barnes pointed out another possible resource. “She anticipated that we would run short of medicines pretty much right off, so she's been working on that for several months. Maybe you two can work together?” Barnes asked. He didn't want to push anyone, but even now the two groups were not mingling as he would like other than the teens. They seem to do everything together.
“Good idea,” Patricia nodded, still lost in thought.
“Can I suggest that you make a list of people within a ten-mile radius of the farm?” Clay said, breaking her train of thought. “That will get you to Jordan, which is about as far as I'm comfortable going at the moment. Try to remember what meds people in that circle are taking and see what kind of substitute you can come up with. Once that's ready, we will take a day, two days, whatever we have to and escort you to each patient in that circle.”
“Some of them live further out,” Patricia shook her head. “Well the other side of Jordan.”
“I'm sorry Patty, but we can't do that,” Clay told her. His voice was gentle, but firm for all of that. “Even the ten miles is a risk to everyone who goes with you. And it will take at least fifteen minutes for help to get there no matter how quickly they can respond. And that means keeping people on standby to assist you, which means people tied up waiting that could be doing something else. Ten miles is the limit. That will get you into Jordan,” he repeated. “If nothing else we 'll try and set it up that you will be at the clinic once a week or every two weeks. Something like that. People can make arrangements to see you there instead of us trying to get everywhere ourselves.”
“Some of them won't have a way to get there, Clay,” Patricia argued. “What about them?”
“What will they do when you can't get there because we're snowed in or we run out of gas, Patty?” Clay kept his voice reasonable. “Our resources aren't bottomless. What we have is all we have and likely all we 'll ever get. Once the fuel is gone, we won't even be able to get you to Jordan without riding horses, and that will mean a three-day trip in a likelihood. You would have to stay at the clinic overnight, in an exposed position. People would automatically assume you have drugs you're holding back and attack you to get them. Some might attack you just to get whatever they can from you, including the horses. It's too much to risk. We can't do it.”
Patricia wanted to argue, but Clay's reasoned response was hard to poke holes in. His arguments were solid and made good sense.
“We 'll make one round,” Clay told her. “However long it takes, we 'll make one round and see everyone we can. Have the kids fix a flier for you to hand out with a schedule of when you 'll be at the clinic. You pick the day and we 'll schedule around it to make sure you can go. And that's honestly more than I'm comfortable with doing to be honest. Having a regular schedule that we have to keep to is just asking to be attacked.”
“You act like we're at war, Clay,” Patricia seized on that to renew her argument. “These people are my patients, not some enemy soldiers!”
“I'm not worried about your patients attacking us, Patty,” Clay still maintained that calm tone. “There will be others who want to grab you or your supplies or both for their own purposes. People who will want whatever vehicle we're using and whatever weapons we carry. And they won't hesitate to kill to get it. I know you don't think they will,” he held up a hand to forestall her argument, “but times like this will bring out the worst in people. When their family is hurting or hungry or need shoes or clothes or whatever else, then they 'll be looking to get it anywhere and anyway they have to. You would likely do the same for your kids,” he pointed out. “It might take you longer to reach that point because you would hesitate to take something that doesn't belong to you even for Abby or Gordy, but. . .others won't. They 'll take any opportunity we present to them. And I really don't want to have to kill someone just because they think you've got something they need and won't give it to them.”
“He's right, ma'am,” Barnes put his oar in the water, seeing his commander beginning to get flustered. “We've seen it too many times. People get desperate and then they get mean. You can call it determined or dedicated or anything else you like, but the end result is the same. They will attack you. And to be honest, we can't afford to have you hurt and out of action, let alone lose you altogether. You, Kaitlin and Tandi are worth your weight in gold now. And it's not just for us. There will be things you're needed for that won't depend on medicines or modern medical equipment. Delivering babies for instance,” he shrugged. “Someone's going to have to do that. And I'm not just talking about Christina either. She's obvious for now, but there will be others. Did you have any patients that were expecting?”
“Yes,” she nodded thoughtfully. “Two in fact. One is young and fairly healthy but. . .the other is in her early forties and on a first pregnancy. She was at risk even before this started. Now it will be worse. Damn it,” she sat down, suddenly dejected.
“I really am sorry,” Clay offered kindly.
“It's not your fault Clayton,” she smiled tiredly. She had always called him by his first name when she and Robert were dating, mostly to pick at him. Clay had still been in grade school when she and Robert met.
“We 'll help you all we can, Patty. I promise.”
“I know,” she nodded her understanding. “I just. . .I hadn't thought all this through, that's all. I have to reassess things now, that's all. Priorities have to change and that includes treatment options and how often I can see people. I suppose people who are closer to us than to Jordan could come here, couldn't they?”
“I'd rather they not,” Clay admitted. “I won't refuse anyone in an emergency and I'm sure Mom and Dad won't either, but I'd rather not make a habit of people coming here expecting anything. And worse, getting an eyeful of what we have here. Jealousy can lead people to do stupid things. I want this place to remain as secure as possible. Even someone who won't try to take from us can talk to someone who will and tell the
m what we're doing, what supplies we have, things like that. We have to be careful.”
“Priorities,” Patricia repeated, nodded once again. “I 'll have to give this some thought and then try to come up with a plan. Once I have we 'll go over it again and see what can be done.”
“Works for me.”
CHAPTER THREE
-
Greg Holloway returned to consciousness slowly. Swimming up from the depths of a dreamless sleep, the first thing he was aware of was pain. That pain served as a focus point, dragging him out of his stupor and back to the land of the living.
A groan of pain attracted Tandi Maseo's attention from the inventory he was doing. Laying aside a clipboard with a list of supplies on it, Tandi stepped to the bedside.
“Easy now, Deputy,” he said calmly. “You've had a rough time of it. Can you tell me your name?”
“Wharmchhh?” Greg tried to ask but two days without water down his throat left him unable to speak.
“Here,” Tandi poured a small glass of water from a pitcher and helped Holloway take a drink.
“Just small sips at first,” Tandi told him. “You've been out for two days, man. Your throat has to be parched. I'm sorry I asked you to talk like that.”
“Hmmph,” Holloway tried to say it was fine but failed again. He took more water and let it coat his dry throat, grateful to feel even some of the grating rawness give way. Finally, his throat and mouth were moistened enough to get at least a few words out.
“Wh…who are y-you?” he asked shakily. “Am I at the Sanders' farm?”
“You are indeed,” Tandi nodded, smiling. “You got here late at night. . .well, early in the morning would be more accurate,” he corrected, “two days and change ago. I'm Tandi Maseo, a medic. I'm a friend of Clayton Sanders. His sister-in-law, Patricia, a nurse named Kait, and myself managed to patch you up but you had lost a lot of blood. We got you blood from some donors and got your fluid level back up. You're been out of it since then, though you managed to give us your blood type before you went deep.”
“Town. . .” Greg tried but couldn't get much further. “Whe-where's Clay?”
“I'll get him for you.”
-
“Hey brother,” Clay smiled as he walked into the small room where Greg Holloway was laying. “How you feeling?”
“I've felt better,” Holloway admitted with weak grin. “Thanks for taking care of me man.”
“No problem, my man,” Clay assured him. “You're family. Always will be. Want to tell me what happened to you? You had a gunshot to the arm and the leg when you got here. Your car seat was full of blood and your automatic was locked back empty. Not to mention the bullet holes in the car. From the way it looked you had quite the night.”
“It was more than the night,” Holloway sighed. “You remember how I told you that there was a gang moving in around here? Maybe more than one? Well, they're stronger than I thought. You know the lights all went out, right?”
“Yeah, we were watching,” Clay nodded.
“Well, you can imagine how things went in town,” Greg sighed. “When the radio announcement went out the whole town seemed to lose their minds. We were able to keep peace for the most part at first, but the longer it went the worse it got. By the time the event happened things were out of control, but once the lights went out and most of the cars stopped things settled down a bit, more from necessity than anything else. Pretty much the only way to get around was walking, bicycles, and horses. It took a couple days for those things to shake out though so we had a bit of a breather.”
“Once the power went off we didn't have any news,” Clay shrugged. “First time we knew anything was happening was three days ago when we were at Jake's place getting his tools. We could hear a firefight in the distance, probably in Peabody but we couldn't tell for sure. Then that night we saw the glow of a huge fire over that way. It was a few hours after that when you showed up almost bled out.”
“The fire got started later but things turned to shit earlier in the day,” Holloway told him. “Well, before then, really. The gangs were working together by then, stealing anything they wanted, rampaging through town and anywhere else they wanted. They grabbed any vehicle that still ran, even one of the ambulances and a fire truck. They took over the old shoe factory and made it their headquarters for lack of a better word.” He frowned at that, looking at his friend.
“They were too organized for a bunch of gang banger types, Clay,” he said quietly. “Way too organized. We were still bumbling around trying to get a handle on things and they were already moving. Seizing weapons, food, even people.”
“People?” Clay was shocked. He hadn't considered that. Not so soon anyway.
“Mostly women,” Holloway nodded. “That. . .that's how I got hit. Trying to free them. I nearly did it, or at least I think I did, but. . .there were just too many. My vest stopped two rounds that would have put me down hard but the vest only covers so much, right? In the end, I had to just try and get away. I…I didn't know where else to come, so I headed here. I'm sorry.”
“That's bullshit,” Clay scoffed. “Don't ever be sorry for turning to me, or us, for help. Like I said, man; you're family. Period.”
“Looks like you guys made out okay,” Holloway looked around him. “Did you have warning?”
“Sort of,” Clay admitted with a shrug. “Nothing but luck though. We spent four days running our asses off grabbing supplies like crazy. But there are a lot of things we missed. We're not in the dark ages just yet, but. . .we can only hold it off for so long in all likelihood.”
“Been nice if you had shared it,” Holloway grumbled.
“We did,” Clay showed his surprised. “Leon sent word around to all emergency services. Why do you think that patrol car still ran?”
“That was the Old Man, huh?” Holloway mused. “Pepper didn't tell us where his heads up came from. I just assumed it was from the government.”
“Where is Pepper in all this, anyway?” Clay asked. “It sounds like you were alone when you hit the factory. Why?”
“Pepper's dead,” Holloway snorted. “He pulled his usual crap and tried to take a cut from the gang leader. Five minutes later him, his nephew and Hohner, the chief deputy, were dead on the floor. Never even bothered to establish a position of strength, just declared himself the 'sheriff around here' and expected the thugs to play along. Didn't even draw a gun, the idiot. Died still thinking he was in charge.”
“What about Peyton?” Clay asked.
“Ain't seen him,” Holloway shook his head. “He lives out of town a ways so he may have been there when the trouble hit, I don't know. There may be another two or three of the guys around still. At least they hadn't showed up dead when I almost bought it. The city police are pretty much gone. I know five of them are dead and at least two are working with the gangs. There should be five more total not counting the chief, but I haven't seen them. I'd about bet on the chief being dirty but I can't prove it. Just a hunch.”
“So, the people in town were just left to the wolves then,” Clay grumbled.
“Pretty much,” Holloway sighed. “I tried to do what I could but my luck ran out finally when I tried to free the people they had taken captive. Most of them are young women, Clay,” he sounded bitter. “Including Ken Walters' girl.”
“Samantha?” Clay was stunned. “What was she doing in town?”
“Working I guess,” Holloway shrugged. “There are some others we know or know their families. And they aren't just grabbing people in town, either. They're taking them from out in the county.”
“Great,” Clay muttered. “Greg, do you have anyone special you need to look after?” Clay asked. “Anyone I can go and collect for you? Or anything you want picked up from home? It's safe to say you aren't going anywhere for a while.”
“I suppose not,” Holloway winced as he tried to move his arm. “And yeah, if you've got a way into Jordan, that's where I'm living, I'd like you to pick up my safe an
d storage gear. And my clothes if you don't mind.”
“Safe?” Clay asked, eyebrows raised.
“I'm not nearly so prepared as you are, but I'm not a sheeple either,” Holloway smirked. “And you aren't the only one who served. I spent two years in the Marines and another two in the reserve. I've got weapons and ammunition, tactical gear and storage food at my place. If you could bring it to me so I'm not empty handed, I'd like to throw in with you guys if that's okay.”
“Of course it is,” Clay nodded at once. “Tell me where you're at and what all you want from there.”
-
“Okay, here's how we play this,” Clay told the assembled group. “We'll take my truck and trailer to Greg's place to get his stuff. Me, Gordy, Brick, Jake, Ronny and Mom will make that trip. Nate, Mitch and Jody will wait just outside town in my Humvee in case we need help. I don't want to let them know we're the ones in the military style rides until and unless we have to, but we don't know what we're going to find in Jordan, either.”
“Why is Grandma going?” Gordy asked. “No offense,” he told his grandmother. “Just curious.”
“Cause there's almost no one in Jordan she don't know,” Clay admitted. “If we encounter someone wanting to know why we're doing what we're doing, who better to explain that we're trying to help Greg out? Plus, they all know you Gordy, and most know Ronny. It won't be like we're just a truckload of strangers rolling in to grab someone's property.”
“They don't know you?” Mitchell asked, eyebrow raised.
“That won't be much help,” Clay sighed. “I ain't exactly got the best reputation around here, man.”
“So pretty much like everywhere you go then,” Nate snorted and even Jody Thompson snickered at that one.