Surviving The End (Book 3): New World

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Surviving The End (Book 3): New World Page 17

by Hamilton, Grace


  “You said it,” Shane replied. “I’ll settle for gator.”

  The rest of the meeting passed without incident, but as soon as the mayor dismissed the people, Shane beckoned Jodi and Beth and tried to make a hasty exit. Unfortunately, they got stuck in the traffic jam at the exit door. He was trying to push his way through the people when a familiar voice spoke to him from just over his shoulder.

  “Your family doesn’t need anything else, and you know it,” Ryan said.

  Shane glanced at him. He had such a smug look on his face, Shane was tempted to put a fist through his teeth. Instead, he stopped trying to push through the crowd and turned to confront him.

  “Lay off my family,” Shane said, trying his best to sound low and threatening rather than nervous and frustrated.

  “Is that a threat?” Ryan replied.

  Shane hesitated a second before answering, as coldly as possible.

  “Yeah, Ryan. It’s a threat.”

  16

  Jodi didn’t want her to leave the house. She hadn’t said it openly, but she’d made her feelings clear. However, Beth was not about to squelch the one nice thing in her life, especially when she’d started to worry that her days were numbered. According to the calendar, it was June 6, and gasoline had already become a scarce commodity. Even the sheriff had to keep his driving to a minimum, so when he offered to come pick her up, Beth declined.

  “Mother, do you think it’s a good idea?” Jodi asked, following her to the garage door that was at the back of the utility room.

  “I’ll be fine,” Beth said.

  “You can’t drive just this one time?”

  “We’ve all decided to save gas for important things,” Beth said, opening the garage door and flicking on the flashlight. “Even James restricts vehicle use to official business only. Jodi, dear, he only lives half a mile from here. I’ll be just fine. I’m going on a date, and that’s final.”

  “Why did everyone have to start falling in love all of a sudden?” Jodi said, rocking her head back on her shoulders.

  “Love keeps its own timeline,” Beth said, giving her daughter a wink and a smile as she pulled open the garage door.

  She hadn’t ridden the bicycle in years, and it sat in a corner of the garage covered in dust and cobwebs. She grabbed it, swiped dust off the seat, and walked the bike onto the driveway. She checked that the tires still had air in them, then turned and grabbed the garage door handle, meeting her daughter’s anxious gaze.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said. “I’ll head straight there. James is waiting for me, so if I don’t show up in a few minutes, he’ll know there’s trouble.”

  Jodi started to say something else, but Beth pulled the garage door shut. Yes, she knew it was risky to ride her bike to her boyfriend’s house. It was teenage behavior, and Beth was in her sixties. She should know better, but she hadn’t felt this way in many years. The fluttery feeling in her stomach, the giddiness, and the racing thoughts—she’d never expected to feel these kinds of things again in her life. Some risks were worth it.

  She made it to the end of her driveway, opened the sliding gate, and pushed the bike through before trouble found her. Nora was standing at the end of her sidewalk across the street, frantically waving both hands over her head. Beth almost turned right back around and went inside, but she didn’t want Nora to have an opening into the property. She swung the gate shut until she heard it latch on the other side, then she went to confront her neighbor.

  Despite her anger at the woman, the sight of Nora made her pause. The poor creature looked horrible, worse than ever. She wore only a long nightshirt, and she’d lost so much weight that it hung off one shoulder. The shirt, which had a big cartoon print of a cat, was spattered with various stains. Her skin was ashen, practically colorless, except for dark semi-circles under her eyes, and she had a waxy complexion. Her hair looked like she’d slept on it without bothering to wash, brush, or even touch it.

  “I know you hate me,” Nora said, tears in her eyes, “but please help. Please!”

  “Nora, you’ve caused me enough trouble,” she said. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s John,” Nora said, moving toward Beth and reaching for her.

  “Who is John?” Beth asked.

  For some reason, this made Nora start crying, and she wiped her eyes. “He’s my boyfriend. We met at the second town meeting. He liked what I said, and we started seeing each other, and then he moved in with me. Please, you have to help him. I think he might be dead!”

  Nora turned and hurried back toward her house. Beth, hesitating only a moment, followed her, walking her bicycle to the front porch and parking it against a post. Nora had a small house covered in blue aluminum siding with a carport instead of a garage and a small front yard. As soon as she opened the front door, Beth saw an absolute dump that reeked of garbage. There was a living room, bathroom, a small kitchen, and two bedrooms—and not much else.

  “We thought we could pool our resources and survive longer,” Nora said, still crying. “But I don’t know…he wasn’t feeling good for the last few days.”

  John was on the floor in the bedroom. It looked like he’d rolled out of bed and tried to crawl somewhere. Wearing only boxer shorts, he was already yellow from death. He’d clearly been lying there for a while.

  “Please, you have to help him,” Nora wailed. “Don’t let him die just because you hate me.”

  Beth was sorely tempted to tell the woman her boyfriend was already long past saving, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  Nora lunged suddenly and grabbed Beth by the upper arm, pulling her in close. “This is all your fault, you know. While you sit there in your house having barbecue lunches, people like John are dying from starvation.”

  Beth wrenched her arm out of Nora’s grasp and knelt beside the body. John was thin and somewhat bony, but she didn’t think he looked emaciated enough to have starved to death. Holding her breath, she rolled him over, revealing a colostomy bag which was taped to his side. The skin around the port was puckered, red, and swollen—clearly infected.

  “First of all, Nora,” Beth said, pointedly, “I did what I could to help. You refused me. Second, it looks like poor John here had an infection in his colostomy port. How long has it looked like this?”

  “I don’t know,” Nora replied in a hateful hiss. “I don’t care. We went days without a single full meal. That’s why he died, and now I’m dying. I wanted you to see it. I wanted you to see what you’ve done!”

  She lunged at Beth again and grabbed her arm, pulling it away from John and twisting it. Beth rose to confront the smaller woman. Nora’s arms were like bones wrapped in paper. She had almost no muscle at all. Beth grabbed Nora’s wrist, plucked it away, and shoved her. Nora stumbled backward and fell to the floor, collapsing in a ball of grief and noise.

  Seeing her curled up on the floor with her stick-like arms drawn around her, it became easier to imagine John had starved to death and that Nora would soon follow. She was an insufferable woman, yet Beth still felt sorry for her. She knelt beside Nora.

  Maybe I should have given her more food, she thought. Maybe standing on principle wasn’t worth a person’s life.

  At the same time, she cursed herself for being double-minded. She sat with Nora, gently patting her on the back as she cried. It took a while, but the tears finally dried up, and Nora regained control of herself.

  “I have a shortwave radio,” Beth said. “Let me run back across the street and use it to call the sheriff. He’ll deal with this situation, okay? You’ve been through enough.”

  Nora sniffed, wiped her eyes and nose on her hands, and nodded. “Okay, please do. Thanks. I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

  Beth left her sitting on the floor and went outside, grabbing her bike and hurrying across the street. She had to wait a moment at the gate, ringing the windchime until Jodi came and let her in. Fortunately, because James was expecting her, he was close to his radio, so when Beth called h
im, he responded right away. Beth explained the situation to him and added, “If you can, you’d better bring the coroner. This is probably a good excuse to use a vehicle.”

  “Beth, I’ll be there as quick as I can,” he said, voice crackling through static. “I’m sorry you had to deal with it. That is an unpleasant business.”

  True to his word, he showed up in a battered, old cargo van not fifteen minutes later. The driver of the van was a short squat woman—Maria Sanchez—who served as the local coroner. Beth was standing at the edge of Nora’s front yard, unwilling to go back in the house by herself, when they pulled up. She didn’t want to further provoke Nora with her presence.

  “Are you okay?” James asked, giving Beth a big hug. He smelled nice. Despite the loss of power, James kept himself clean, unlike most people these days.

  “I’m fine,” Beth said. “The body is in the bedroom.”

  She waited as they went inside, Maria pushing a gurney. Through the open front door, Beth heard Nora wailing again. She approached the front door, getting there just in time to see James and Maria wheeling a body bag out of the bedroom, as Nora followed behind, hands clasped in front of her.

  “I don’t understand,” Nora said. “Did he starve? Is that what happened?”

  James turned to her, as Maria pushed the gurney through the front door. Beth stepped aside to let her pass.

  “As Maria explained, it’s called sepsis,” James said.

  “I don’t know what that is,” Nora said.

  “It’s blood poisoning,” he said. “Most likely caused by the infection from his colostomy bag. I’m sorry, Nora, there wasn’t much you could’ve done for him. He needed strong antibiotics, and he needed his port sterilized. Even then, by the time you were aware of the symptoms, it might have been too late.”

  “Is that true?” Nora said. “You’re a cop, not a doctor. How do you know?”

  “Ma’am, it was my conclusion as well,” Maria said. Beth could tell she was struggling to remain professional. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  Maria pushed the gurney onto the front porch, but James lingered. Nora was bent forward, her hands on her thighs, weeping.

  “Maria, you go on ahead,” James said. “I think I need to stay here a few minutes.”

  Without comment, Maria left, pushing the body down the sidewalk toward the van. James put an arm around Nora and guided her into the living room, helping her sit down on the only clean spot on an old flower-print couch near the fireplace. Beth shut the front door and came toward them.

  “I can’t leave you in this condition,” James said, clearing a space for himself on the couch. In the process, he cleared enough space for Beth as well and gestured for her to sit down.

  “I was alone for so long,” Nora said, her face in her hands, “and then I found Johnny, and I know it was fast, but I think he loved me. I think he really loved me. We were so happy at first, and he was nice to me. What am I going to do now?”

  Beth sat down, feeling the couch cushion crinkle and crack, as if there was trash beneath it. It was unpleasant enough that she immediately stood up again.

  “Nora, would you feel better if I made a pot of tea?” she asked. “Is there a way to heat water?”

  “I have a camp stove you can use,” Nora said, hiccupping. “Tea in the pantry.”

  Beth dodged the trash on the floor and walked into the kitchen. Though small, the kitchen was perhaps the cleanest room in the house. Even the small plastic table was mostly clear. A portable Coleman camp stove sat on the counter. It had a single burner attached to a small propane tank. It didn’t look like it had been used much. Maybe Nora hadn’t had much to cook on it.

  A large cabinet door beside the refrigerator seemed the most likely location for tea, so Beth grabbed the door and pulled it open. She saw three shelves stacked vertically, each of them absolutely stocked full of food: cans of vegetables and meat, boxes of oatmeal, crackers, and cookies, bags of flour and rice, and even some of the cans Beth had given Nora weeks earlier. The sight was such a shock that Beth just stood there for a few seconds, gaping at it, feeling numb.

  “For God’s sake, Nora,” she said, finally. “Look at all of this food! Why do you have all of this food?”

  When she didn’t get a response, she went back to the kitchen door and saw a very confused-looking James staring at her. Nora slowly raised her face from her hands, her cheeks streaked with tears.

  "Look at how skinny you are,” Beth said. “You thought John starved to death, but your pantry is packed with food. You have weeks of food in there!”

  James looked from Beth to Nora, confusion turning to anger on his face.

  “I…I have to hoard that food for the tough times,” Nora said. “If I eat it now, I won’t have anything later on.”

  “Tough times are now, Nora,” Beth said, struggling not to shout. “Right now! You have to eat.”

  “I couldn’t bring myself to eat it,” Nora said.

  “I’m making you something to eat right now, and you’re eating.”

  Beth stormed back to the pantry, kicking a stray crumpled bag out of her way. She was appalled at the woman’s stupidity, trying to understand it in a way that didn’t make her seethe with hatred. She dug through the pantry to find the easiest thing to make and wound up grabbing a container of oatmeal. Never in her life had she made a bowl of oatmeal with such contempt, and when she finally brought it to the table, she scarcely noticed the intense heat radiating through the plastic bowl.

  “Come over here and eat this,” she said, beckoning Nora.

  James gave Nora a gentle push to get her moving, and she slowly crossed the living room and sat down at the kitchen table. Beth placed the spoon in her hand and gestured at the oatmeal, but she didn’t step away until she saw Nora take a bite.

  “Good,” she said. “Eat it all. Listen to me, Nora, you have to start using the food in your pantry. The community garden will be producing in a few weeks, so by the time your pantry is empty, you’ll be able to get rations from the town’s food store.”

  Staring glumly at the tabletop, Nora took a second bite, but she didn’t seem like she had much of a will to live. Beth was tempted to take the spoon back and start force-feeding her like she was a fussy infant.

  “Start eating your food, Nora. Don’t kill yourself for no reason.”

  It was finally too much. Watching the woman eating one slow bite at a time as if the thought of food offended her, Beth knew she had to get out of the house. Nora was grieving. She deserved some small measure of sympathy.

  As Beth walked out of the house, she heard James give a few final encouragements to Nora before he followed her. They met up at the end of the sidewalk, gazing back at the sad little blue house.

  “Well, I’m done feeling guilty about not giving her more food,” Beth said. “This has to be some form of mental illness, right? Have you ever heard of a mental illness that causes people to hoard food while they’re starving to death?”

  James started to give her another hug, but he stopped himself and stepped back—possibly hesitant to touch her after he’d handled a corpse.

  “Some people get so fixated on saving what they have,” he said, “that they don’t use what they need. They certainly do it with money, and I guess some do it with food.”

  “She needs professional help,” Beth said. “I wonder if there’s a pill she could take.”

  She needed a hug, so she wrapped her arms around him anyway, laying her head against his shoulder. He returned the embrace.

  “You know, if this idea about pooling private resources wins out,” he said, “Frank’s committee will insist on conducting a house to house search for supplies. Given what I’ve just seen at Nora’s, there are a lot of folks who won’t readily comply with the demand to turn over what they’ve got. Even though she’s helped create this whole unpleasant situation, I can’t see Nora allowing anyone to take the stuff from her pantry. With so many of our residents armed, I imagine there
will be all kinds of problems.”

  “Yeah, I’m afraid you’re right,” Beth said, pressing in against him a little closer. “I’m worried, James. I’m worried about Frank and his committee, about Ryan and his supporters, about Nora and any other unstable people. It doesn’t feel safe here, not for my family.”

  She wanted him to comfort her somehow, but she also didn’t want him to lie. He did neither, simply stroking her hair and holding her, letting the silence speak volumes.

  17

  Corbin had read all the books and magazines in the house, so he found himself lying on his bed late into the night, staring at the ceiling. He’d almost gotten used to being constantly sticky with sweat. Almost. He shared the middle guest bedroom with Owen, but he had opted for a makeshift futon on the floor near the closet. Currently, Owen was snoring away. He wasn’t loud, but the sound was just enough—a rhythmic, nasally wheeze—to be a problem.

  Finally, Corbin sat up. It was no use pretending like he was going to fall asleep any time soon. He decided to make his way to the kitchen and get a drink of water. He rose from his bed, trying to make as little noise as possible, and went to the bedroom door. When he slipped into the hallway, he heard hushed voices coming from the living room. He moved in that direction. The voices were Libby and Amelia. As Corbin entered the foyer, he made just enough noise that they would know he was coming. People were jumpy these days, and the house was dark.

  “Who’s there?” Libby said.

  “Just me,” Corbin replied, stepping into the living room.

  Libby and Amelia were sitting on the couch. They had an air mattress on the floor, but they’d apparently given up sleeping and were chatting quietly by the light of a single candle, which flickered on the mantle.

  “Sorry, I’m just passing through,” Corbin said. “I needed a drink of water.”

  “It’s fine,” Libby said. She was wearing a bright white t-shirt, and it almost seemed to glow in the candlelight. She’d washed her hair before going to bed, and it was done up in a handkerchief.

 

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