Band of Preppers (Book 2): Life is Hope

by Chad Evercroft

  “You should get some rest, honey,” Derek suggested, rubbing his wife’s shoulders. “It’s been a hell of a day.”

  “It’s moving really fast, Derek,” Amy said, as if she hadn’t heard him. “Kara has spots all over her arms, body, and legs now. It looks like vomiting is an early symptom, the body trying to get rid of the virus or whatever, and then once it stops, it’s like it’s giving up. The spots just spread all over. And blood, Derek. The spots start seeping blood.”

  “All of them are like this?”

  “Kara is farthest along. It moves so fast.”

  Amy laid her head on the table and Derek felt his heart breaking. He crouched down and wrapped his arms around her. They stayed there for a long time, not speaking. Derek imagined Amy hard at work, her gloved hands bright with blood, barking instructions to Megan. How was Megan? She was probably nearly numb, overwhelmed by the larger than life task.

  5.

  Megan counted the hazmat suits a second time. There were twenty left. Just more proof that Buckle had really gone all out on his preps. Even after the day she had just had - one of the longest - Megan felt better than after some of her other bad days. The stockpile cellar was still brimming with supplies. She had a warm bed to sleep in. Britney was healthy. Still, images of the day kept replaying in her head. Kara’s body erupting with pale spots that grew fatter and began to seep blood. As she thrashed in her fever, the spots painted the sheets red. Pat got sick not long after his wife’s spots started bleeding. At first Amy thought it might just be from stress, but then he just kept vomiting. Then he got a fever. There weren’t any spots yet, but Amy told Megan to keep a close eye on key areas, like armpits, thighs, and between the fingers and toes. They settled Pat in the living room. He kept asking about Kara, but didn’t seem to understand Megan’s answers.

  “Just try to keep him hydrated,” Amy kept saying. “And as comfortable as possible.”

  It was nearly noon when Buckle called on the Walkie-Talkie. Fred had started to show symptoms. He had come in complaining of a headache and joint pain, and vomited after trying to eat some lunch. He hadn’t stopped and his daughter was panicking. When it looked like there was a moment, Amy left for Fred’s house, leaving Megan with Kara and Pat. Megan dabbed Kara’s wounds with a cloth soaked in some antibacterial fluid, wincing as if she felt the pain herself. Infections were the last thing Kara needed. She hadn’t spoken much. The fever made her delusional. Sometimes she murmured names and places from the past, sometimes called Megan “Sammy.” Megan wondered if that was someone Kara had lost.

  “I’m sorry this happened to you,” Megan said softly. “I know it’s scary. I’ve been there.”

  That was true, but Megan knew this pox was different. Her spots had not bled this much, but they had been on her face. She still had faint scars. Her fever hadn’t been so high.

  “I survived, Kara,” Megan whispered. “You can beat this.”

  The rest of the day went faster. With Amy in charge, Megan always had something to do. Holding a bag, cleaning spots, trying to get people to drink, taking temperatures...Fred’s daughter Isabella had not gotten sick and after being instructed thoroughly on how to care for her father, Megan and Amy stayed at Pat and Kara’s until necessity forced them to rest and eat. Kara was quiet and her temperature relatively stable. Pat, who still had not broken out in spots, had been asleep for a half hour when Megan and Amy left.

  “We’ll take forty minutes,” Amy said. “Then we need to go back to hydrate them.”

  “So we’ll just sleep there?”

  “If we sleep, yeah.”

  “What are their chances?”

  “It’s hard to say. I haven’t seen it before, but in hospitals under the best care, it sounded like most people still died.”

  As she examined the baby supplies in Buckle’s cellar, Megan thought about what might happen if all of them died. Tensions were already high. Death could break down the fragile order. The village was more stable than Sarah’s group had ever been, but if the situation was bad enough, did that even matter? Megan had gathered some baby food jars and was on her way back to the stairs when she met Buckle on his way down.

  “Oh, hi,” he said.

  “Hey.”

  “Need help finding anything?” he asked.

  “I think I’m good,” Megan replied, smiling.

  Buckle smiled back. He looked a little sheepish.

  “So, are you ok? With all the stuff today?”

  “It’s rough, but we have to do something, y’know? We can’t just leave them.”

  Buckle nodded, looking down at his hands. They were large, with short, dirty nails and thick calluses. They were worker’s hands.

  “Just wanted to say I was sorry about how I acted, when you first showed up,” Buckle said suddenly.

  “It’s ok. You’ve already made it up to me.”

  “Maybe. I was just real wrong about you, and I’m glad you’re here, to help Ams.”

  Megan smiled again. Her first impression of Buckle that had left her thinking he was like Bruce had quickly changed. Buckle’s life revolved around his brother’s family and where Bruce’s natural impulse was to use violence to get what he wanted, Buckle thought through things first. He liked things to be peaceful. He wasn’t afraid of compromise.

  “I owe you guys everything,” Megan said. “Without you, I don’t know what would have happened to Britney. Well, I know, but I don’t like to think about it.”

  Buckle leaned against the cellar wall. He was wearing his usual flannel, tucked absentmindedly into his jeans. He had on a dark blue skull cap for warmth.

  “Life’s rough now,” Buckle remarked. “I guess it always has been, but it was different.”

  “Yeah.”

  Chilly from the cellar, Megan inched past Buckle, still cradling the baby food jars in her hands. Her bare forearms brushed against Buckle’s, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt against her skin. He pressed himself up against the wall to make more room. Their eyes met for a moment as Megan moved past him.

  “I’ll see ya,” Buckle said, breaking into his characteristic grin.

  A smile tickled Megan’s lips as she went upstairs and put away the baby food jars. Buckle had stopped reminding her of Bruce; now, he reminded her more of Blake.

  It was almost 10:30 at night and Megan needed air. She brought Amy the hot water she had just heated on the fire and turned her back on Pat and Kara’s bedroom. Megan hurried outside, taking in a deep breath through her mask. The cold felt good compared to the sticky heat of steam, blood, and sweat. Megan looked down at her hands, her latex gloves slippery. They were fighting a losing battle. Megan wondered when Amy would give up. At some point, they couldn’t keep using resources when it was just prolonging their suffering. Sighing, Megan turned to go back into the house. She heard muffled voices.

  “Ready?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  Megan searched for the direction of the voices and saw two large figures emerging from the shadows.

  “Hello?” she called.

  The figures froze.

  “Who’s there?”

  They approached until Megan could see it was Bowflex and Matthew. They were each carrying a red canister of gasoline and bundles of straw. Megan’s suspicions were aroused.

  “What are you guys doing here?” she asked, taking a step back.

  The two men looked ashamed of having been caught, but stood their ground.

  “Don’t fight us, Meg,” Bowflex said, stretching himself up to his full height. “Go get Amy.”

  “What are you doing?” Megan repeated, more firmly.

  “What needs to be done,” Matthew replied, slapping the side of the canister.

  Megan retreated back to the house, keeping her eyes on the two men. Her thoughts were racing. They had gone crazy, like Sarah had. They were going to burn them alive. Inside, Megan raced to Amy, who was in the bedroom.

  “Bowflex and Matthew are outside!” she cried. “I think the
y’re going to try to burn the house down!”

  Amy’s eyes widened. She ripped off her latex gloves and ran out through the living room. Megan followed close behind, glancing at Pat and Kara before she left. They were asleep, faces relatively peaceful. Their fevers had gone down a little, enough so they could sleep, and Amy had spent the last hour or so monitoring their vitals as best as she could. Outside, Matthew and Bowflex were sloshing gasoline around the house, as if they were painting the sides. They had pushed the straw bundles against the walls to serve as kindling. Megan could smell the gas: slick, tangy, and intoxicating.

  “What the hell are you doing!” Amy screamed, rushing over to the men.

  She tried to grab the gas can from them, but they held it above their heads where she couldn’t reach.

  “Get back, Amy,” Bowflex said solemnly. “Get to where it’s safe.”

  “Stop it!” Amy shouted.

  Her exclamations drew a crowd. Annie, Buckle, Adam, Derek, and a few others came running out of their houses, pulling on coats and boots. When they saw what was happening, they descended on Matthew and Bowflex, but Matthew pulled out a gun.

  “Stay back!” he cried, waving it everyone’s faces.

  Megan pulled Amy’s arm, holding her back. Amy’s face was nearly red from anger and fog billowed around her from her heavy breathing. She was like a dragon protecting her young. Buckle stepped closer to Matthew, his hands raised.

  “What are you doing, Matt?” he asked, restraining the anger in his voice. “You aren’t going to win this. We all made a decision. You gotta stand by it.”

  Matthew scoffed, keeping the gun at Buckle’s eye level. Megan’s chest felt like there was a balloon expanding in it, ready to explode. She took short swallows of the cold air, her throat burning. When she looked over to Amy, she saw that her gloves had left bloody fingerprints on the white fabric of Amy’s suit sleeve.

  “Be careful, Buckle,” Amy ordered.

  “Back off, Buckle,” Matthew said, his voice becoming angrier. “We’ll all get sick if we don’t put a stop to this. This place will turn into a ghost town or we’ll have to burn your goddamn paradise to the ground. Is that what you want? Wait until it’s too late?”

  “We’ll put anyone down who tries to stop us,” Bowflex added.

  He began to slosh more gasoline before pulling out a lighter from his pants’ pocket. He flicked it to life. Just as he leaned down to light a bundle, the gasoline that had spilled on his clothes in the struggle with Amy caught the lighter.

  “Oh, shit!”

  Bowflex was on fire. The fire licked up his gasoline-soaked clothes, spreading up his sleeves to his chest. Shouting, he threw himself on the ground and began to roll, but the puddles of gasoline only added to the flame. Matthew turned to look on in horror, giving Buckle the opportunity to grab his gun and push him to the ground A single shot went off into the air. Megan and Amy ducked.

  “Blankets!” Annie screamed.

  Derek and Adam had already thought of it, and were racing back with an armful. They threw the blankets onto Bowflex and the lit straw bundle. The bundle went out quickly, but Bowflex thrashed under the blanket, smoldering and screaming. Megan almost covered her mouth with her hand, but saw the blood as she brought it up near her face. She bit her lip instead, so hard she could taste iron.

  “Is he ok?” Matthew shouted from the ground, where Buckle had him pressed down face-first with his arms behind his back.

  Derek gingerly tried to remove the blanket, but found it stuck to Bowflex’s melted skin. The man whimpered, smoke rising up from his body. Derek looked at Amy, who inched over to take a closer look. Bowflex’s face was the worst. When he had held the gasoline above his head, it had poured down into his hair. His skin was blotched and blistered red all over, his features liquified into one another. The smells of burning hair and flesh had mingled with gasoline in the air. Amy was whispering something to Derek when Matthew managed to wrench himself free from Buckle’s grasp. In a single motion, all while on his knees, he grabbed back the gun, put it to Bowflex’s head, and fired. For a moment, nobody moved. The only sound was the wind blowing across the fields. Everything felt oddly peaceful, like the eye of a storm.

  Bowflex’s body had to be burned. Everyone stood around the pyre, heads bowed, but also feeling grateful at the same time. Matthew had lost his furor and was silent in the wake of the decision to kick him out of the village. He would be given about a week’s worth of supplies, a tent, and map. Where he went or what he did after that was up to him.

  “We’ll give you a gun, but don’t even think about coming back,” Buckle said.

  Matthew nodded. He didn’t say anything while Amy and Megan prepared Bowflex’s body; he didn’t weep or even look especially quiet. His face was listless. No one approached him with comfort. When the body was in ashes, Matthew went off into the woods, bag over his shoulder, and Bowflex’s crossbow across his back. Megan watched him go, and couldn’t help but feel a little sad for him, even after everything that had happened. She recognized that numbness, that kind of walking death that accompanied an extreme loss. Matthew lost his anger when Bowflex died, but he lost his primitive fire to survive, as well. That was what all of the anger had been about, after all. Survival.

  The next few days went by without any more trouble. Bowflex and Matthew had been the only ones willing to take drastic action; everyone else just stayed in their houses and waited for things to change, either for the better, or the worse. Megan didn’t really understand that kind of apathy, or whatever it was. It wasn’t like the villagers didn’t care about what happened to them or even to the three sick people, but they weren’t willing or able to do anything about it. Fear ate away at any resolve they had. At first, they had expressed concern by asking questions or offering supplies, but as time went on, they withdrew. Megan and Amy felt like ghosts wandering from the two houses; no one stood in their doorways watching anymore. If Megan and Amy stopped treating the sick, Megan had no doubt that Kara, Pat, and Fred would just be left alone to die. Was that any better than Bowflex and Matthew’s plan to torch them?

  By the ninth day of Kara’s sickness, she started showing improvement. Her wounds stopped bleeding and her fever began to drop. Pat and Fred followed suit and by Day 12, everyone’s scabs were beginning to fall off. The feeling of victory and relief was nearly overwhelming. When Amy brought news that they were all going to make it, the Evers’ house erupted into celebration. Derek enveloped Amy in his arms before doing the same with Megan. He smelled of cold sweat and aftershave. It reminded Megan of Blake and for just a moment, she felt a stabbing pain. It faded quickly as Buckle hugged both women at once, his arms on either side of him.

  “Good job, girls,” he said, almost on the verge of tears.

  Megan hadn’t seen Buckle this emotional or open, and it made her feel like part of the family. Adam was just as excited as everyone else, his face relaxed for the first time that week. He had been withdrawn, focusing on Britney and his chores, and sat in silence when Amy and Megan came home, as if he was glad to just be with them. He waited anxiously to be allowed to help, and when Amy determined it was safe to be around Pat, Kara, and Fred, Adam jumped in.

  Recovery was slow. The disease had been quick and non-fatal, but their bodies were exhausted and worn down to the bone. For the first few days after the scabs fell off, all three just slept and had to be woken to be hydrated. Adam heated up water and broth, and helped his mother record blood pressure, temperature, and other important information. Amy was fascinated with how different the pox had affected people when it was transmitted through food. Megan, who was the only person who had directly encountered the pox before, was peppered with questions.

  “How long did the fever last?”

  “When did the spots show up?”

  “Where were they on your body?”

  Amy scribbled all the information Megan gave her as well as everything she could remember from the news.

  “The pox o
n the news, from person to person, took longer to appear in people who had chicken pox, which was most people. It only took about a week for it to show up when it was in the venison. Buckle said all three had chicken pox, it was something they discussed when the news started talking about it.”

  “So this kind looks worse, but is actually non-fatal?”

  “Basically.”

  “Huh.”

  “We gotta be careful about hunting from now on,” Buckle interjected, taking the seat beside Megan and pushing a mug of instant coffee in front of her.

  “How are we on canned meats?” Amy asked, chewing on her pencil eraser.

  “Pretty good,” Buckle answered. “It’s just that we will run out, eventually. In spring, we’ll have to hit the gardens pretty hard.”

  “What about fish?”

  “That’s less risky, not sure if it’s worth it, though. We’ll have to get protein from our beans-and-rice mostly. Nuts, too.”

  “Maybe we can find a radio signal. Listen for news on it.”

  Buckle nodded, taking a sip from his mug. Amy turned to a new page and began to write again. Looking over her shoulder, Megan could see that Amy was making a list of foods with the most protein.

  “We’ll be ok,” Amy said, almost to herself. “Vegetarians live without meat.”

  “Never thought I’d see the day when Buckle Evers would be a vegetarian,” Buckle mused, smiling to himself. “Things really have changed.”

  7.

  It was the first Christmas post-pox and Derek couldn’t help but be amazed at how much was different and how little that change really mattered. Twelve months before, Adam had been giddy with excitement at the prospect of receiving a new Playstation, and Amy had spent all Christmas day baking cookies. This year, they were all just glad to be together, and that wasn’t a hollow sentiment. Adam had changed the most. He had always been a technology addict, but it was like as soon as they reached the village, a switch flipped. If he missed his games or computer, he never complained. He spent this Christmas day outdoors with Buckle and Derek, chopping wood and cleaning the garden beds. Inside, Megan and Amy pulled out all the stops for supper. There was canned turkey, canned cranberry sauce, canned peaches, white beans-and-rice, 4-ingredient bread, Honeyville Instant Chocolate Pudding, wine, instant coffee, and tea. When they all sat down to eat, Derek said a brief, but sincere grace. This was what real gratitude felt like. It took nearly reaching the brink and being somehow - perhaps miraculously - pulled back from the edge to really appreciate the little things in life. Their little village had faced so much in just the past few months, and they were still standing.