The Extinction Series | Book 8 | Primordial Earth 8

by Higgins, Baileigh

  “Go ahead, but be careful,” Callum said.

  As one unit, the convoy rumbled across the open space. When it struck the city outskirts, it closed ranks, and the men, animals, and wagons huddled closer together. Everyone was armed and on high alert, ready to fight whatever came their way.

  They found themselves in a suburb. The kind that nice, ordinary people used to live in with pretty lawns, white-washed walls, and picket fences. Now there was nothing left but desolation.

  The gardens had broken out of their borders, and ivy crept up the ancient walls. Broken windows yawned open to the street, and brittle lace fluttered in the openings. Rusted post boxes listed to the side, and cars that would never drive again sat in the driveways of abandoned houses on flat tires.

  Callum nodded at a squad of gunmen, and they swept the road ahead. Whenever they spotted something interesting, like a truck transporting goods or a garage filled with spares, a sweeper team went in and removed anything of worth. The goods were piled onto the nearest wagon, and the convoy moved on.

  It didn’t take long for them to leave the suburbs behind, entering the business district. There they found much of interest, and Callum’s hopes rose. “Is it just me, or does this place have a lot more stuff than usual?”

  “It’s true,” Ric said. “It looks like the people here simply left.”

  “Or fled,” Callum said.

  “It’s possible. I’ve heard of people in the early days banding together and leaving their homes and city,” Ric said. “Especially when it was too dangerous where they lived.”

  “What did they do then?” Callum asked, his interest piqued.

  Ric shrugged. “Make a new home somewhere else. Die. Get eaten. It’s anyone’s guess.”

  “Tis very morbid.”

  “Indeed, but you know what they say. One man’s death is another man’s bread,” Ric said.

  “People really say that?” Callum asked with a doubtful frown.

  “It’s something like that,” Ric said, waving it off. “Look there.”

  Callum looked at the building Ric pointed at, and his stomach did a back-flip of excitement. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “An army surplus store,” Ric said. “Let’s check it out.”

  They headed toward the shop front but paused when the door burst open from within. O’ Neill appeared before them, a broad smile on his lips. “You should see this. All of you.”

  “Where did ye come from?” Callum asked.

  “I got in the back, and you won’t believe what I saw,” O’ Neill cried. “Supplies. Racks and racks filled with supplies. Jackets, boots, MRE’s, canteens, backpacks, gear, guns, and ammunition.”

  “Yer being serious?” Callum said, afraid to believe his ears.

  “Come and see for yourselves,” O’ Neill urged. “There’s damage, sure, from age and damp, but a lot of the stuff is still intact.”

  Callum looked at Ric. “Ye know what this means, right?”

  “I think so,” Ric said, an involuntary smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “If that place is untouched, the rest will be too.”

  “Tis correct. The shops, businesses, factories, and more will be ours for the taking,” Callum said, and a whoop of joy burst free from his lips. “I don’t know about ye, but I’m ready for some good luck.”

  “So am I,” Ric said. “Let’s get cracking, man. We’ve got work to do.”

  Callum turned to the nearest sweeper team and waved them toward the surplus shop. They streamed forward like ants, and within the hour, nothing was left but the rubbish. The convoy continued onward, hitting building after building until the wagons were piled high and the draft animals strained in their harnesses.

  Finally, the sun dropped to the horizon, and dusk crept over the land. Not willing to take a chance, Callum called a halt. “Form up, people. Leave what you’re doing and get back into formation.”

  “There,” Ric said, pointing to an empty warehouse that looked sturdy enough to keep them secure. The windows were small and high up, and the metal doors and ceiling were intact, though rusted.

  “Looks good to me,” Callum agreed.

  Trundling toward the building, the convoy took possession of the warehouse. The animals were secured in one corner, fed, watered, and settled for the night. The doors were barred, guards placed at the entrances, and campfires built to cook food and ward off the chill.

  Once he was satisfied that everything was in hand, Callum settled down next to their small fire. He stretched out his long legs and groaned. “Tis much better. There’s nothing like a proper blaze to warm a man’s soul.”

  “If you believe in that pansy-assed nonsense,” Ric said with a grunt.

  “Of course, I believe in my soul. I’m a church-going man,” Callum said. “As a boy, I didn’t dare miss a sermon, or my old man would tan my hide.”

  “Not anymore,” Ric said. “The world’s gone soft.”

  “Don’t be daft. Yer the only one who’s gone soft in the head,” Callum exclaimed.

  “Coffee, anyone?” O’ Neill interjected, pouring cups full of the hot brew.

  “Thank ye kindly, lad,” Callum said, taking a sip. The liquid was as black as sin and strong enough to float a horseshoe. Just the way he liked it. “This is good stuff, O’ Neill.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” O’ Neill said, bobbing his head. “Supper will be ready soon.”

  “Good, I’m starving,” Ric said, settling down with a deep sigh.

  “Getting old?” Callum quipped.

  “Not too old to whip your ass,” Ric said, raising one graying eyebrow.

  Callum laughed. “What’s on the agenda for tomorrow? Do we continue?”

  “Of course, we carry on. We still have six more wagons to fill and eight pack donkeys to load,” Ric said.

  “Just asking,” Callum said, inclining his head.

  “You can always go back,” Ric said.

  “Go back?”

  “If you’re worried about Kat and the babe,” Ric said. “I wouldn’t blame you. Nobody would.”

  “Ye wouldn’t?” Callum asked, surprised.

  “Family is everything,” Ric said with a shrug. “That’s why we’re doing this, right?”

  Callum stared at Ric. “Ye really have gone soft.”

  “Maybe, but think about it. The last thing you want is regrets.”

  Later that night, Ric’s words came back to haunt Callum. He stared into the darkness, wondering. Thinking. Worrying. The last thing he wanted was regrets, especially when it came to Kat and their unborn child. Maybe it was time for him to head back. He’d done enough. O’ Neill and Ric could finish up.

  Callum drifted off to sleep with his mind made up, more at ease than he’d been since he left Prime. Come morning, he’d see to the last few things that needed to be done, and then he’d be off.

  Chapter 9 - Sandi

  Sandi marched through the corridors of the Prime hospital with her clipboard and pen held close to her chest. She stopped at each station to collect their supply list and listen to the staff’s complaints and concerns. At the same time, she handed out the new work schedule, ignoring the groans and moans that came her way.

  Once she’d collected the supply lists, she headed toward the stores and topped each station up with what they needed, including the kitchens. But their food and medicine levels were running too low for comfort, and she eyed the empty racks with trepidation. God forbid they should run out entirely. If that happened, they were doomed.

  Thanks to the delivery from Vancouver, they’d been able to weather the worst of the storm. The Red Flux was slowly losing its grip on the city, but it was still a threat, especially with winter around the corner. Plus, hunger was a looming specter on the horizon, and they needed more of everything.

  Her next destination was the morgue, followed by a quick meeting with the plumbers and electricians and visiting the kitchen gardens. Thankfully, there was good news in all of those departments. The morgue was a
ble to cope with its workload again, the plumbers and electricians were making slow headway, and the gardens flourished, providing fresh fruit, herbs, and vegetables to the staff and patients alike. Not that she could stop and appreciate the minor victories, not when so much else needed work.

  The day flew by while Sandi attended to these tasks, not once taking a break or a sip of water. She couldn’t stop. She refused, driven by her need to stay busy. It was the only way to stay sane. With Kat deathly ill and Paul off to find Callum, she couldn’t allow herself even a moment to think.

  But, she could only push her body so far. Around four in the afternoon, she stumbled. Suddenly weak, she groped at the walls to stay upright. The world swam around her, and she burst into the nearest bathroom, grateful to find it empty. “What’s wrong with me?”

  It was a rhetorical question. Sandi knew exactly what was wrong with her. Starved, dehydrated, exhausted, and stressed, her body was on the verge of collapse. It screamed for help, and the message was loud and clear. “If Paul were here, he’d be pissed at me.”

  But Paul wasn’t there, and she had no way of knowing if he was okay or not. Or even alive. Just… just hang in there. He’ll come back. You’ll see.

  Sandi opened the cold water tap and splashed her face before taking several deep swallows of the cool liquid. Resting on her elbows, she repeated the procedure until her dehydrated body got what it needed. Her mind cleared, and her knees stopped wobbling, a huge relief.

  Revived, she stared at herself in the mirror but jerked upright when one of the doctors entered the bathroom. She spotted Sandi and smiled. “Good afternoon.”

  “Hey,” Sandi replied, managing a weak wave.

  “Are you okay?” the doctor asked, eyeing her with concern. “You look very pale.”

  “I’m fine. I just need to eat something. I skipped lunch this afternoon,” Sandi said.

  “Here, take this,” the woman said, fishing an apple from her pocket.

  “Thanks,” Sandi said, taking the offered fruit.

  “You need to take care of yourself, Sandi. We all work hard, but I’ve seen the way you push yourself,” the doctor said.

  “You know me?” Sandi asked, struggling to place the woman. Maybe she was in pediatrics?

  “Of course. I make it my business to know who’s in charge of the supplies, and you’re it since Kat fell ill,” the doctor said. “Anyway, it’s obvious that you’re working too hard.”

  “It has to be done,” Sandi protested.

  “I get it. You don’t want to let people down, but you’re only human.”

  “I’ll be okay, I promise,” Sandi said.

  “I’ll hold you to that,” the woman admonished.

  “Deal,” Sandi replied, waiting until the doctor entered a cubicle.

  Heaving a sigh of relief, she ducked out of the bathroom and hurried down the hall. That had been a close one. Too close. She walked a fine line between appearing capable and strong, while inside, she was crumbling to bits.

  Aware that the day was almost over, Sandi headed to Kat’s sickroom. She visited as often as she could and spent the next to her friend’s bed, dozing on and off. It beat lying in an empty bed, wondering if she’d ever see Paul again. Tonight, he’d be gone for three nights. It was too long. Much, much too long. Please, be safe, my love. Hurry back to me.

  Dr. Bloomberg’s offices were almost empty when she arrived. Only three patients remained, waiting for the doctor to see them. They glanced up when she walked in, their expressions pale and listless. She greeted each with a nod but didn’t linger. The last thing she needed was to contract whatever they had, be it the flu, a stomach bug, or something worse.

  A nurse called Julie sat in the front office, going over paperwork and other administrative tasks. She greeted Sandi and tipped her head toward Kat’s room. “She’s been asking for you.”

  “She has?” Sandi said, immediately feeling guilty.

  “Yup. Callum, too. Is there any news on that front?” Nurse Julie asked.

  “I’m afraid not,” Sandi said.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. You must be worried sick about Paul.”

  “It’ll be okay. He’ll be okay,” Sandi said, but privately she wished everyone would stop talking about him. I swear if another person mentions him, I’ll throw myself off the balcony.

  “I’ll bring you a cup of tea,” Julie offered. “You look like you need it.”

  “Thanks,” Sandi replied, ducking into Kat’s room.

  The room was as silent as the grave when she entered, and for a second, she feared the worst. “Kat? Kat, are you alright?”

  She hurried toward her friend’s bedside, relieved when she saw Kat’s chest rise and fall, her breathing shallow but even. “Thank God,” Sandi exclaimed, slumping into the nearest chair.

  Once her heartbeat returned to normal, she sat for several long moments without moving a muscle. It was her quiet time of the day. Her opportunity to relax and gather her thoughts. It was also her opportunity to talk to Kat and give her encouragement.

  “Kat? Are you in there? Can you hear me?”

  Silence.

  “Come on, Kat. I know you can hear me.”

  Kat stirred, but her eyes didn’t open. Still, it was enough for Sandi, and she settled into her chair. “That’s okay. I don’t feel much like talking either. Just know that I’m here, okay?”

  Silence.

  “Would you like me to read to you?” Sandi picked up the book on the side table and read a couple of poems out loud. After a while, she closed the book. “I’m sorry, but I’m not in the mood for poetry today. I’ll see if I can bring something more exciting to read tomorrow.”

  She patted Kat’s hand and stared at the way the sun shone through the frosted window. Dust motes hung in the air, golden yellow. The peace and quiet allowed her to listen to her body’s needs, and she realized how close she’d come to the edge.

  Her stomach cramped, and she remembered the apple in her pocket. The shiny green fruit looked delectable, and her mouth salivated. Unable to resist, Sandi bit into its sweet flesh and wolfed it down. Afterward, she felt better, and the hollow in her stomach subsided. She was still hungry, though, and perked up when the nurse entered with a cup of tea and a couple of biscuits.

  “Here you go. Dr. Bloomberg will be with you shortly,” Nurse Julie said.

  “Thank you so much,” Sandi said, taking the tea in both hands. She cradled it to her chest and soaked up the warmth. The comforting brew was sweetened with honey, and a single sip lit a golden glow in her stomach that radiated outward to her extremities. “Mm, that hits the spot.”

  She’d barely finished her tea and biscuits when Dr. Bloomberg entered, his bushy beard as white as ever. His shirt hung loose over his belly, and she marveled how the Red Flux had affected even him. He no longer looked like a jolly Santa, and that saddened her. “Have you been eating lately, Dr. Bloomberg? I declare you are wasting away before my very eyes.”

  He shot her a look and harrumphed. “I could say the same about you, missy.”

  Sandi blushed. For some reason, she couldn’t lie to Bloomberg. He saw right through her. “I know, but I can’t help it. Not with Paul away.”

  “Are you sleeping much at all?” he asked.

  “Not really,” she admitted.

  “Let me give you something to help with that, my dear,” Bloomberg said.

  “No! I don’t want anything,” Sandi said, shaking her head.

  The doctor sighed. “You’re killing yourself, Sandi, and I can’t stand by and let it happen. Please, let me help you.”

  Sandi chewed on her lower lip, indecisive, but something had to give. Finally, she bobbed her head. “Alright, but I don’t want anything too strong. I need to be alert during the day.”

  “Of course, my dear,” Bloomberg said. “But, you must take care of yourself, or you’ll burn out. Understand?”

  “I understand,” Sandi said. Eager to change the subject, she pointed at Kat and
asked, “How is she doing?”

  Bloomberg shook his head, consulting Kat’s chart. “The antibiotics from Vancouver saved her life. She’s recovering from the Red Flux and her injuries. Still…”

  “What is it?”

  “Something’s wrong,” Dr. Bloomberg said. “She’s getting better, but I’m worried. I’m afraid she’ll take a turn for the worse again.”

  “What could be worse?”

  “Another infection. She’s weak, and this time, I won’t be able to save the baby. Or her,” Bloomberg said.

  “I think it’s because she’s given up,” Sandi said, swallowing hard on the knot in her throat. “Without Callum, she refuses to fight. Or she can’t.”

  “You are probably right,” Dr. Bloomberg said. He replaced Kat’s chart and took her vitals. After adjusting her IV fluids and injecting more antibiotics, he took his leave. “Pray for her, my dear. That is all we can do for her now. Pray.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. Your help means the world to me, and to her,” Sandi said.

  “I only wish I could do more,” Bloomberg said with a solemn expression. “I will leave a prescription for you with Julie. Be sure to take it and get a good night’s rest.”

  “I will.”

  Bloomberg left the room, and she was alone with Kat once more. Sandi took Kat’s hand in hers and leaned forward. “Kat, can you hear me?”

  Kat moaned and tossed her head from side to side. “S… Sandi?”

  “Yes, it’s me!” Sandi cried, happy to see her friend awake.

  Kat blinked at her surroundings. “Is this Dr. Bloomberg’s office?”

  “It is.”

  “How long have I been here?”

  “A couple of days. You fell down the stairs, remember?” Sandi asked.

  “The stairs?” Kat repeated with a frown.

  “That’s right. You hurt yourself pretty bad.”

  Kat’s expression grew fearful, and both her hands flew to her stomach. “The baby?”

  “The baby is fine, for now,” Sandi said.

  Tears leaked from Kat’s eyes. “Thank God.”

  “You can say that again,” Sandi said, leaning closer. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”