by P. A. Glaspy
We shook hands again. “Thank you so much, Gary. I think you may be surprised at how many people need and want the training. It will help you in the long run, too. The more people who can protect and defend themselves and their neighbors, the less ground you and your deputies have to cover. I’ll let Kim know you’ll be in touch.”
I walked with a purpose to the field Kim was working in. No, we couldn’t take everybody in, but we could do whatever was within our power to help them help themselves, if that’s what they wanted to do. Kim wanted to protect her family. I was all in on that one.
****
Gary was surprised at the number of people who showed up on the square for firearms safety and defense sign-ups the next morning. Jasper wasn’t.
“It’s different for you, Gary. You wear the sheriff’s badge and uniform shirt. Folks treat you better than others. I don’t know whether it’s respect for the office, or the knowledge you have a gun and know how to use it. Either way, your world is not the same one the rest of us are living in. I caught some asshole trying to climb in a window in the living room one night. Some bird shot in the general vicinity sent him running. I boarded up the window and started sleeping with one eye open. I can only imagine how it has been for others, especially the ones who never saw a need for a gun before.”
Gary surveyed the crowd. There were men and women of all ages there, even some teenagers. He found Kim in the crowd and nodded in her direction. She smiled and returned the gesture. He turned to Jasper. “It would seem I have been lax in my duty to protect and serve. Security ranks right at the top of things you need in an emergency situation, but I was so focused on the food issue I didn’t do anything about it. Let’s fix that. Lord knows we need all the help we can get.”
Gary looked out over the group. “Folks, thank you all for coming on such short notice. It has been brought to my attention that we’ve had some break-ins and attacks on our people. That stops now. If you have your own firearm and know how to use it, please step to the left. We can use your help with instruction, even if it’s just how to properly clean a gun. If you are here to learn how to use one and don’t have one of your own, step to the right. Also, if anyone has any firearms they would be willing to lend to a neighbor, please see me. Jasper, they’re all yours.”
Jasper stepped forward. “I’m going to need a few of you with experience to help with this training. Any volunteers?” Ben Vaughn raised his hand, as did Clint Russell. “Great. You two can start with the armed group. Check their weapons for maintenance and get a feel for their expertise with their guns. The rest of you, over here with me. We’ll start at the beginning.”
Gary had asked that they keep the training class to no more than an hour so the farm workers could go out to the gardens. Jasper used that hour to go over the basics of handling a gun—treat every gun as if it’s loaded; know your target and what’s behind it; keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot; don’t point your gun at anything you don’t intend to shoot; keep your weapon clean. The hour went by fast.
“I know we didn’t get to do a lot today, but we need to get to the gardens. Classes will be every morning before the garden work. See you all bright and early!”
As the townspeople scattered to get to their appointed rendezvous point for a ride to the farm, Jasper, Gary, Clint, and Ben stepped off for a private chat. Jasper looked at his two co-instructors. “Well? What’s the verdict? Clean guns?”
Ben was shaking his head. “Nah, most of them are hideous. I’ve got a few boxes of gun oil wipes I’ll bring tomorrow, and some different sized bore snakes.”
Jasper nodded. “I’ll bring some, too. What about knowledge and skill?”
Clint snorted. “Some of them, yeah. A couple have had handgun training classes. A bunch of them were toting their daddy or granddaddy’s rifle or shotgun that looked like they hadn’t been cleaned since the original owner was alive. Them’s the ones think they know cuz Grandpa let them shoot one time when they were twelve. When I ask somebody to show me their gun and they point it at me and say ‘here ya go,’ I don’t have a lot of faith in their ability to use it.”
“Who did that?” Jasper asked, the shock apparent in his voice.
“Doug Roberts. He’s been prancin’ around town with his daddy’s old .357, barkin’ out orders for people to donate their supplies to the town for everybody to use. He was at the front of that mob that robbed the grocery store. Thing is, there wasn’t a community food bank set up yet, so reckon where all that food went? I’ll tell you where—in their bellies!”
“I hate all that happened before I could get back,” Gary said hotly. “It won’t happen again—not that’s there’s any food left for them to loot.”
“Oh, there’s food, it just ain’t unguarded.” Jasper laughed. “He tried that crap on Barbara, and she pointed a shotgun at him. Told him to come back when he could pay.”
Gary grinned. “God love her. I don’t imagine he took that well.”
“Nope and that’s why me and Ben built them steel doors for her. Ain’t nobody getting through those unless they have a tank.”
“Well, here’s hoping we can get people trained and armed so more of them can protect themselves and each other. I—make that we—just can’t be everywhere. We need this for the town. Things have happened you guys don’t know about, and I’m not at liberty to tell. Just know that, behind food, this is probably the most important thing we could be doing.” Gary’s impassioned statement had all of them nodding in agreement.
Jasper replied, “Don’t you worry, Gary. We’ll get them trained up.”
Gary caught a glimpse of Kim loading herself and her kids into a pickup truck at the corner. He said, almost to himself, “The sooner the better.”
****
Doc Hanson knocked loudly on the barred pharmacy door. “Brad? You in there? It’s Doc.”
Brad Wise came to the door. Doc heard the deadbolt lock turn then watched as the door swung into the darkened storefront. He heard the tinkling of the bell, one of many that had been above the door for thirty years or more. Brad smiled at his old friend.
“Morning, Doc! Let me just get that gate open.” Brad unlocked the wrought iron gate and pushed it open. “Come in, come in. What can I do for you this morning?”
Doc walked through the door and shook Brad’s proffered hand. “Gary stopped by yesterday and asked if you and I could get the clinic up and running again. Seems the folks that worked there never came back in after the power went off.”
Brad closed the gate behind Doc, but left the door open. “I just opened the back door. Hopefully we can get a breeze in here. What can I do to help?”
“Well, I’m hoping you and my Hannah can create medicines we can use for the meds we no longer have. How is your inventory anyway?”
“I still have most of it. Dad had those iron gates installed on the front and back doors back during the late sixties, early seventies when the world was going crazy with war, segregation, you remember.” Doc nodded. Brad went on. “We never had any trouble, and after a couple of years he didn’t even bother locking them anymore. I did the same. Then the power went off. I didn’t think anything of it at first. Strange for the power to go off when there wasn’t a storm but who knows with all the parts that go into it. When I noticed nothing electrical at all was working, like phones and computers, I figured out pretty quick this wasn’t just a blown transformer. I hightailed it down here with a shotgun and a pistol. Caught some bastards fixing to smash the front window with bricks. I fired my pistol over their heads and they took off. Been staying here ever since, with those gates locked. Had a few morons get the bright idea they could pull the gates off with a regular old pickup truck. I’ve dragged more than one bumper around back.”
Doc laughed. “You said most. What happened to the rest?”
“Doled it out to folks who really needed it. The insulin is mostly gone, and I wouldn’t trust what’s left to work. Asthma inhalers, blood pressure med
icine, blood thinners, those sorts of things have been picked up.”
“Are you giving it away for free?”
“For the most part. I have a stack of IOUs from the ones who said they’ll pay me when the lights come back on; not too sure when that will be. I’ve gotten food, bullets, silver, even a bit of gold as payment. I’ll help folks as long as I can.” Brad smiled. “Now, how can I help you with this request?”
Doc pointed to a walker with a seat built in. “Mind if I sit? These knees are giving me a fit today.”
Brad wave a hand toward the apparatus. “Where are my manners? Of course, take a load off.”
Doc eased into the seat and continued. “Ah, much better. I guess we—me, you, and Hannah—will work together to try to mend what we can and medicate if needed. I’d like to see us use natural herbal remedies wherever we can. Those will be around a lot longer than medications in case this lasts indefinitely. We won’t be able to do anything about serious illnesses like cancer, or do open heart surgery or anything like that, but we can stitch wounds, set broken bones, maybe combat food poisoning. Hannah has a ton of herbs already dried at the house. Do you still grow them?”
“Some, but nothing on the scale Hannah does. So, what exactly would I be doing? Just dispensing meds here?”
Doc shook his head. “Oh, no, I want you at the clinic. You’re a pretty good diagnostician. You can help triage the incoming patients.”
“Well, I’m honored, Doc, but who’s going to man the store here in case anybody needs anything?”
“We’ll put the word out that we are on clinic duty in the mornings, and the pharmacy will be open in the afternoon,” Doc replied. “If there’s an emergency, folks will know where to find you. How does that sound?”
Brad smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”
Doctor Albert Hanson, or Doc Hanson as he was called in town, had retired from his veterinary practice ten years earlier. At seventy-five, he had been enjoying a life of quiet just outside of town; that is, until the world turned upside down. Though his healing arts had been with animals, he knew the human anatomy well. He had served as midwife in more than one home birth when there wasn’t time to get to a hospital. He’d stitched up his fair share of cuts. His wife, Hannah, was a naturalist, with a knowledge of herbs and folk remedies to rival anyone in the area, quite possibly the entire state. She grew many medicinal herbs in containers on her back patio. Their basement was full of dried herbs hanging in pretty much any previously empty space on the ceiling. People all over the county came to Hannah for her home remedies.
Brad Wise had been the pharmacist at the only drug store in town, Wise Drugs, for thirty years. His dad, Walter, had passed the store on to him when he retired, but Walt still went in almost every day to see his son and visit with the other “old folks” who came in to drink coffee and gossip about their neighbors until the day he died. The store was open every day from nine to six, except Sunday. It didn’t really matter as everyone in town knew where Brad lived and knew his phone number. He answered it any time, day or night, and when the store was closed that phone forwarded to his cell phone.
When Gary pressed them into service, Doc wasn’t sure he was up to it. His knees were about gone and he had been scheduled for knee replacement surgery two weeks after everything stopped working. He was resigned to the fact that he would probably use a cane, and possibly a walker for the foreseeable future. That’s why the clinic would only be open four hours a day. Doc felt like that would be the max his knees could take.
The first week they were open, the waiting area was crammed with people. As it was officially summer, and there was no air conditioning, that made for smelly conditions and short tempers. Gary was on hand and put a stop to the riotous activity.
“Okay, everybody outside unless you are with the doc or one of his team. They’re going to need room to work. Miss Hannah, I’m going to designate Jeremy here,” he said, laying a hand on the shoulder of a teenage boy, “as your official gofer and name caller. Jeremy, I want you to help Mrs. Hanson with whatever she needs done, okay?”
Jeremy straightened up. “Yes sir, Sheriff. As long as she needs me. I’ve got some kind of rash Momma wanted me to get the doc to look at, nothing serious, just itchy. I can wait.”
Hannah reached her hand out to Jeremy. “I think my assistant for the day can cut in line. Come with me, honey.” She led him back to the room Doc was working in. She asked Brad if he’d take a look at Jeremy’s arm. Brad looked at Doc. “You good here?”
Doc was examining a young woman who was complaining of abdominal pain. He replied while continuing to probe her abdomen, “Yeah, I think we have a case of not boiling our water before we drank it. Is that about right, Maria?”
She looked chastened. “I boiled it, but I guess it wasn’t long enough.”
Doc nodded. “Thought so. Go ahead, Brad. Hannah, I’m going to need a ginger tea recipe here, and some ginger. Maria, go with Hannah. Dear, you can send in the next patient.” He wiped his brow with a damp handkerchief and took a moment to lean back against the wall on the stool he was using to give his knees a rest. Hannah peaked in before bringing the next person in and saw her husband leaned back with his eyes closed. She turned to the mother of two who were clinging to her legs and said quietly, “Give me just a moment, dear.” She stepped into the room and gently closed the door. As she started across the floor, he heard her footsteps and opened his eyes. The concerned look on her face brought a smile to his.
“I’m fine, love, just needed a moment. Besides, we’re almost done for the day. I can get through a few more.”
“Alright, but I’m going to tell Gary that we can only see … what, three or four more?”
“How many are out there waiting?” he asked.
“Twenty at least.”
He sighed. “Yeah, I can’t get through that many. Have Brad go check them out and find the four who appear to need us the most. The rest will have to wait until tomorrow.”
She nodded, kissed him lightly on top of his head and ushered in the mother and children.
Jeremy was dabbed with calamine lotion and given a small pill bottle of it and some cotton balls for later use. He was also given some allergy meds to take before bed. He stuck those in his pocket and helped Hannah by copying the ginger tea recipe to a few index cards. Brad went out to triage the crowd.
When they heard there would only be four more people seen today, the crowd got angry. Gary did, too—at the crowd.
“Hey! These people are doing this out of the goodness of their hearts! They aren’t getting paid for their time or their supplies. Doc has bad knees and he can’t stand for very long. We haven’t had a clinic in weeks. I don’t think one more day is going to kill anybody. Now the rest of y’all go on about your business and come back in the morning if you still need to see the doc.”
They grumbled but dispersed, all but the four Brad had pulled out of the group. Brad looked at Gary. “Once we get through the initial rush of people who think they need to see a doctor, we’ll be left with the people who really do need to see one. It’ll quieten down.”
Gary watched to make sure there was no trouble from the retreating crowd. “I’ll be around just the same to make sure. We needed to do this, didn’t we?”
“Yes, we did. Good thinking, Gary,” Brad said. “We might even save a life.”
Gary replied, “I hope you don’t need to.”
Doc walked out just then, leaning heavily on his cane. “Well, even without power to run tests or take x-rays, we managed to help some folks today. It’d be nice if we could at least get some lighting set up in there, but I reckon we’ll get by—as long as my knees hold out. I had a couple of folks ask me about their livestock, wanting to know if they could bring them by. We may have to designate a day as critter doctoring day.”
Gary grinned at him. “I’ll get Jasper to come take a look and see what he can do about getting some lights hooked up for you. And you take your time, Doc. If it gets to be t
oo much, stay home for a few days. The whole town is indebted to you, Miss Hannah, and Brad for this.”
Doc shook his head. “No, this is our way of doing our part for the food that’s being grown. No way I can work a field with these knees, though I could shell peas or shuck corn. Even that didn’t seem like enough. Now, I know we’re doing our fair share, and that works for me.”
And that’s how the Hanson Clinic got started.
Chapter 9
Lee put the finishing touches on the set of bunk beds he had built in the basement for the Scanlin girls. He stepped back, gave his work a critical eye and a satisfactory nod, then went upstairs and out the back door to get a breath of fresh air and check on his kids. He wasn’t worried about them; they were with Sara, Marietta, and the rest of the kids for afternoon classes. He just liked to know where they were. Anything could happen in this world and, when it did, it was usually in the blink of an eye. Since the shootings, classes were held at the outdoor tables, which were close to the house, or in the screen porch if it was raining. It was a gorgeous, though slightly warm, day and the group of children and their teachers were at the tables which he had also built right after arriving at the farm. They still looked great, even after having weathered a few rainstorms. He was glad he had coated them with waterproofing sealant after construction.
As he watched Sara working with the children, he could see the pain and sadness she carried with her throughout every day. He knew that pain. He had felt that pain. Though he had resigned himself to the fact that his wife, Jackie, was lost to him, it didn’t take the heartache away. He was finding himself less obsessed with what might have befallen her than at the beginning of this whole nightmare. He was able to remember good times spent with her and his family, which he tried to access whenever his mind wandered to the horrors she had probably faced. That was almost as hard as her being gone—not knowing what happened to her, if she was still alive, if she had been tortured or abused. He didn’t have closure. He probably never would. Sara at least had gotten that.