“They left about an hour ago, most of them anyhow. A few trucks waited at the edge of town, and some soldiers hid out. When those left behind thought it was safe to come out, the Guard ambushed them. They were rounded up and hauled away. There was a lot of shooting.”
Jimmy spat in disgust. “Are you sure it’s clear?”
Jon nodded. “Clear as it’s going to get. We’ve got to get moving. I think I’ve found the path that leads here from the other side. It doesn’t look too bad as long as we have enough light. Ready?”
Jimmy nodded and strapped on his pack. He followed Jon up to the top and they paused, surveying the quiet, empty town below.
“Land of the free?” asked Jimmy.
“Home of the brave,” finished Jon.
Jimmy shook his head, following Jon into the wooded darkness below. The path was well worn, the going slow and easy. They marched down the path single file, entering a strange new world, a world that had been vigorously shaken and mercilessly dumped, upside down. They both knew they couldn’t completely trust anyone, not anymore. The sky overhead was dark and growing darker with each passing minute.
These were desperate times.
Twenty
Who was Dr. Ezra Pound and why did he spend thirteen and a half years in a Washington, DC, mental institution? The truth is he was being held as a political prisoner for speaking his mind about what took place on Jekyll Island in the autumn of 1910 and revealing the terrible truth about the infamous Senator Nelson Aldrich and how he helped create the Frankenstein’s monster of banking known as the Federal Reserve System.
The town was completely dark. There wasn’t a sign of human life to be found. The moonless sky offered only the dimmest of starlight, and they moved slowly and cautiously down the empty streets. The night was warm, and the air was still thick with the smell of diesel smoke. A dog howled a lonely cry in the distance. They continued walking, passing darkened homes with their doors hanging open like hungry mouths. Occasionally a dark form could be made out on the lawns or the sidewalks. Some were family pets; others weren’t.
Ken had explained how to get to the hospital. Even though their eyes had long since adjusted to the nighttime, they had to get within a couple of feet of the street signs to read what they said. They didn’t talk, and they walked along as quietly as they could.
The hospital was down Elm Street, and a big blue sign with an H above an arrow showed them the way. The final two blocks had been as dark as the rest of town. They walked up to the front of the long one-level building and made their way to the canopy. The sign overhead read EMERGENCY. Jon tried the door. It was open.
They were greeted to a dim, bluish light. Probably a backup to the backup, thought Jimmy. No doubt these were solar lights. They walked in through the double doors and into a lobby. Dark pools of dried blood covered the white tile floor. The hospital looked more like an abandoned MASH unit.
“Hello?” called Jon.
“Is anybody home?” asked Jimmy.
The hospital was as quiet as an empty church, and the two continued walking slowly down the hall. They passed open doors and hospital beds occupied with dead bodies. Some looked to have been shot where they lay. Jimmy wanted to vomit, and the stench of death filled his nostrils.
They continued down the hallway, poking their heads into rooms, calling quietly to anyone who might still be alive. The eerie blue light added a dream quality to their journey. The hospital seemed completely deserted. They continued on until they came to the main lobby. Two men in brown uniforms lay sprawled out on their backs in dark pools of dried blood. They wore sheriff’s patches on their uniforms, and their guns were missing. They were beginning to bloat and looked to have been dead for at least a day. The smell was overpowering, and Jimmy wretched.
Jon leaned his gun against an empty chair and pointed to the belt of one of the deputies. “Flashlight,” he whispered. “See if the other guy has one. They’ll come in handy.”
Jimmy nodded grimly. He was glad that he hadn’t eaten, and there was nothing but the taste of bile in his mouth and stomach. He set his gun down and made his way to the other man, looking down at his belt. The long black flashlight was there, the business end protruding underneath the fallen officer. Jimmy groaned. The man looked to be in his early fifties, his salt and pepper hair thin and combed over a bald spot on top of his head. Somehow the man still looked to be in great pain. A purple tongue lolled from his open mouth, his sightless eyes open and vacant. Jimmy bent over and reached down for the flashlight.
And Jimmy suddenly realized that they weren’t alone.
“Get out of here!” screamed a charging shadow from down the hall. “Get out!”
Jimmy nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned to see a giant of a man charging them.
“Leave them alone!” he shrieked. “Leave them alone!”
“Holy crap!” exclaimed Jon, who had fallen over in a sitting position from the sudden shock.
The huge form continued his charge, his heavy footfalls slapping on the tile floor. He was dressed in blue jeans and a flowing white lab coat. His bearded face looked animal-like, and his teeth were bared.
Jimmy scrambled back to the far end of the lobby, taking a defensive position behind one of the padded chairs. He looked at his gun which was twenty feet away from him.
Jon had pulled his handgun out and was training it on the approaching man’s chest. Jimmy had seen enough bloodshed, and he quickly found his feet. He ran to meet the giant’s attack.
“Get out of my hospital!” screamed the man as he crashed into Jimmy.
Jimmy was driven back like a small dog in front of a school bus. The massive, bearded man tackled him, his face was wild with anger. Large fists pummeled Jimmy as they fell. Jimmy covered up, hoping to avoid most of the blows. The man had to be nearly seven feet tall, and he seemed nearly half as wide. He grunted like an animal, pounding his fists into Jimmy with reckless abandon. Jimmy tried to turn, but the much larger man held him down with a knee and continued to deliver enormous, punishing blows. Jimmy caught a fist to his forehead, and his head slammed down on the hard tile floor. The last thing he heard before everything winked out was the sound of a gunshot.
“Are you okay?” asked a strange man in a soft voice.
Jimmy’s head pounded. No, I’m not okay, you fool, he thought bitterly. He tried to open his eyes, but the lids seemed too heavy to lift. He groaned.
“Don’t rush it,” cooed the man. “Just open them up when you’re ready.”
Jimmy found the strength to open his eyes, and he nearly gasped when he found himself looking straight into the eyes of the giant. The huge man smiled, but it was a kind, reassuring smile. A doctor’s smile, thought Jimmy.
“This is Dr. Benson,” said Jon with a chuckle. “Dr. Ted Benson?”
Jimmy managed a smile. His head felt as if it’d been cracked open from the blow the good doctor had delivered. He sat up, Dr. Benson helping him into a chair. Ken had been right—the man was a monster. His hands were the size of baseball mitts, yet they were the soft hands of a man in his profession.
“I’m sorry about that,” Benson said, his eyes growing wild again. “I just snapped. I hope you’re not hurt too terribly bad. I’ve got to get a hold of myself. This whole situation is driving me insane.”
Jimmy nodded. The man looked like he was well on his way there.
“I told him about Ken. He’s coming along with us,” Jon said, unable to hide his smile.
“You told him about the marker?”
“He didn’t need to,” said Benson. “All he had to say was the name Dahlgren.”
“Do you mind if I ask what the marker was for? Ken didn’t say,” said Jimmy, rubbing the knot on the back of his head.
“Mind? I don’t mind at all. Look around you. Do you see that computer over there? Ken and Patty Dahlgren. The new x-ray machine down the hall? Ken and Patty Dahlgren. That new lab and most of the equipment? Ken and Patty Dahlgren. Do you get it?”
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Jimmy nodded, realizing yet another secret of the people he thought he knew so well.
“They’re some of our leading benefactors. We’d still be in the Stone Age without them. I’ve known Ken all my life. We went to school together.”
“Wow,” said Jimmy, a thought playing at the edge of his mind.
“And if you’re little Jimmy Logan, well, I was a good friend of your dad’s. I haven’t seen you since your fourth or fifth birthday. I’m sure you don’t remember that. I would’ve been back for the funerals, but I couldn’t get away. I’m terribly sorry, Jimmy. They were good people—the best.”
Jimmy did remember. A tear rolled down his cheek, followed by another. Jimmy felt suddenly foolish that he hadn’t remembered the name. Memories of his family flooded over him, and he hung his head and wept. Would the pain ever end? Jimmy didn’t think so. Even after ten long years, the scab could be ripped from the wound, exposing raw nerves of grief.
Jon turned away.
“Your dad was one helluva cribbage player,” said Benson, patting Jimmy on the shoulder. “I always wondered if he cheated. I never beat him—ever.”
Jimmy laughed at that. He dried his eyes and stood. Dr. Benson took him into his huge arms and hugged him like a baby. “The pain is a good thing,” he whispered to Jimmy. “It reminds us of what we lost and where we came from. Your tears are a tribute to those that have gone before you. Don’t ever forget that, son. I still cry for my parents, and they’ve been gone far longer than your own.”
Jimmy was racked with sobs. He tried to speak, but nothing came out of his mouth. It seemed as if he was there again, standing at the open graves, watching his life being buried along with the caskets. He wrapped his arms around the large man and wept.
After Jimmy had regained his composure, they followed the hulking form of Dr. Benson through the hospital. He gathered up supplies, tossing them into a box with his soft mitt-like hands. He opened a door with a key, and they entered a room full of bottles and vials of prescription drugs.
This is Bill’s idea of heaven, thought Jimmy. He watched Dr. Benson walk down the aisle muttering to himself, grabbing a bottle of this and a vial of that. He placed them gently in a blue vinyl bag with a long carrying strap handle. He turned to them, paused, and returned down to the end of the aisle, taking one last bottle from the shelf. He then turned and walked back to them, holding the bottle in one hand. “Here,” he said, twisting the top open and tapping out three little orange pills into his massive palm. “Take one of these.”
“What are they?” asked Jimmy, holding his hand out.
“Don’t ask,” said Benson. “I could lose my license for this. They’ll help keep us awake. We’ve got a long walk in front of us.”
Jimmy watched as Dr. Benson dry swallowed one of the pills. He and Jon followed his lead and each swallowed one of the pills. They followed Benson out of the room and down the hall where again Benson paused.
“One more thing,” he said. “Come on.”
They followed him down the hallway, through a door that read CAFETERIA. Inside the long room was a wall of vending machines. The big man fished a set of keys from his pocket and opened three of the machines. “Help yourselves,” he said. “We had backup power until the soldiers arrived. Everything should still be all right to eat.”
Jon and Jimmy loaded up, drinking Cokes and eating sandwiches as they filled their backpacks. Dr. Benson scanned the machines with the disinterest of someone who has done so a thousand times. He chose a turkey sub and a bag of Lay’s Potato Chips. He pulled a bottle of water from the open soda machine and sipped at it while he ate.
Jimmy felt much better after he’d finished eating. He wasn’t sure if it was from the food or the little orange pill, but he felt ready to hike the dark miles back to Ken’s. He checked his watch and found that it was nearly midnight. Had they really been here that long? Jimmy shook his head in disbelief. They shouldered their packs, each brimming with goodies from the vending machine, and then picked up their weapons. Dr. Benson transferred everything from the box into another of the blue satchels with the long carrying straps. He slung them over his big shoulders and nodded toward the door. “Are you two ready?” he asked.
“Let’s go,” said Jon. “Here,” he said to Dr. Benson, handing him the pistol from his belt. “This might come in handy out there.”
Dr. Benson shook his head. “No,” he said. “I took an oath. I’ll just have to trust the two of you. Don’t let me down. I’d like to see how this whole thing plays out.”
That struck Jimmy as an odd thing to say. “What do you mean by that?” he asked.
Dr. Benson continued walking, the lines in his face deeply furrowed as he thought about his answer. “Listen,” he said after a long pause. “These are terrible times. God only knows where we’re heading. I hate the thought of leaving my little hospital, my home, my patients. It’s tearing me up inside. Do you want to know what I do to get past all that? I think about how we’re going to put it all back together again. I’m excited about that. I’m a doctor; I think of things that way. How can we cure this problem? I think our government has gotten so far off track that it’s high time something like this happened. All of these partisan politicians. You can see where they’ve gotten us. They cultivated this cancer, fought senselessly over how they should treat it, and now they’re shocked to find that it’s malignant and spreading? I’ll tell you how we need to treat it. We need to oust the sons-a-bitches and bring the control back to the people. We’re going to have to start this whole country up from scratch, using the Constitution, of course. We need to stick a cork in all of these special interests and get back to doing what’s best for us. We’ve got this moment in history to set things right. Does that make sense to you guys?”
They were stopped at the emergency room door, intensity shining in Dr. Benson’s eyes. Jimmy felt as if a light had just gone off in his head. “That does,” he said. “I guess I never thought about it that way. It is up to us.” Cindy is going to love this guy, he thought to himself.
Jon nodded. “I guess I’ve been too busy thinking about how we’re going to make it through another day to even think about the future. You’re right, though. We’ve got to grab the bull by the horns and make some noise.”
“Exactly!” said Jimmy. “We need a movement.”
“A revolution!” exclaimed Dr. Benson.
“How?” asked Jon. “They’ve taken away our telephones, our radios, our televisions, and the internet. How are we supposed to communicate our message?”
“I haven’t figured that one out yet,” said Dr. Benson sadly, looking out into the gloom. “But I can tell you this much—they didn’t have those tools when this country was born. They had a common goal, determination and the Constitution. That’s all they needed then, and that’s all we need now.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Jon.
“There’s no hoping involved. I have to be right. To think otherwise is inconceivable. This is a watershed moment in our history. Future generations of Americans are counting on us to do the right thing. We can’t let them down.”
Dr. Benson sprinted through the door first and Jon followed. Jimmy peered out into the night and followed Jon. He couldn’t get what Dr. Benson had said out of his mind. Someone had to get the people organized and focused on the real problem. Why couldn’t it be them? It wouldn’t be long before the military had nearly everyone locked away in refugee camps. What then? Jimmy shuddered at the thought. They paused at a garage, the doors hanging open and the dark shadow of a car parked inside. Jon took the lead and they continued their brisk walk toward the end of town. Jimmy spotted two more bodies laying in the gutter. He couldn’t make out anything more than that they were human and that they were certainly dead. Our guys did that, he thought to himself bitterly. They had probably been shot simply for refusing to be carted away like animals. Yes, Dr. Benson was right. They needed a revolution, and they needed one now before it was too late.
President Roosevelt blamed unscrupulous money lenders and a generation of self seekers for the economic problems of his day.
“So,” said Dr. Benson. “Ken and Patty talked me into leaving Tuscan and moving out here. That was five years ago. I’ve never regretted it. Not until a few days ago.”
Jimmy couldn’t believe the guy was still talking. They’d traveled at least ten miles, and the good doctor had hardly paused for a breath. They all carried flashlights, but none were turned on as Jon had decided that it’d be too dangerous. The night air was still, and it seemed that even the crickets had finally gone to bed. Overhead, the endless constellations looked close enough to reach out and touch. They took their time, pausing for a break every hour. They’d lie down on their backs and simply look up at the stars, Dr. Benson chatting aimlessly about the past, present, and future. He was a man with a huge vision, and as much as his endless monologue bothered Jimmy, he couldn’t deny that he now looked at the world and their place in it in an entirely different light.
“We held out for a few days. I suppose we were hoping that the government would magically correct itself and that we’d all be back home the next day. That was damn stupid,” Dr. Benson continued, his size seventeen Reeboks clapping against the asphalt. “We were running out of the basics, the day-to-day stuff that keeps a hospital running. The trucks simply stopped coming. We tried asking for help from the townspeople, but they were too busy organizing their militia. They had good intentions; they just lacked any sort of leadership. You can’t have an army without that. Everyone had different ideas of how things should be run. They fought more among themselves than they did anyone else. By the time the mob from the campground broke out, the militia was only a shell of itself. I would venture to say that only thirty men remained from a group that had numbered well into the hundreds. They were slaughtered—brave, foolish men. They came in angry waves, like wild animals. There was no stopping them. They looted every business in town, taking whatever they could carry.”
Desperate Times Page 20