Solar Fury

by E A Chance

  There was a line of six shower stalls that reminded her of summer camp as a child. Neatly folded white towels were arranged in stacked wooden crates. Bottles of body soap and shampoo lined a narrow shelf on the opposite side. All she lacked was a razor to shave the forest growing on her legs and armpits.

  She stepped into a middle stall and pulled the chain. Glorious warm water poured from the showerhead and flowed over her bruised and aching body. If it hadn’t been for Julia, she would have stayed there luxuriating for an hour. As it was, she let go of the chain and soaped up before doing a quick rinse. She was reluctant to leave the peaceful little sanctuary until she reminded herself that she could shower whenever she wanted now.

  She dressed quickly and headed for the infirmary. Dashay was on a metal folding chair next to Julia’s bed. She put down her book and smiled when she saw Riley. She returned the smile before going to Julia.

  “How is she? Has she been awake?” she asked, then felt Julia’s forehead and checked her pulse.

  “She’s been awake for short periods, but she’s weak. Dr. Cooper came in and was able to get her to respond to stimuli for a few minutes.”

  Riley nodded, relieved Coop had been in to see Julia. She studied her daughter’s face for a moment. “I’m concerned about her color.”

  Dashay stood and moved next to Riley. “She may need a transfusion.”

  “We’ll see how she does through the night. Do we have the equipment to run blood tests?”

  “Yes, a centrifuge and microscope. We’re short on tubes, strips and slides, but we should have enough for Julia. Director Branson sends teams on scheduled runs to scavenge for med supplies. The next one should be at the end of the week.”

  “Like a well-oiled machine,” Riley mumbled. “Thank you for staying. I’ll take over now.”

  “My shift ends in ten minutes. Claire, the night nurse and Mendez will be in to replace me.”

  “Who else do you have on the medical staff?”

  “We have three other nurses and a dentist, but she’s been too ill to be much help.”

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  Dashay shrugged. “Dysentery, but she refuses to let us treat her.”

  “I’ll see about that. We need everyone with medical knowledge on staff.”

  Dashay nodded. “Happy to have you here. See you tomorrow.”

  Riley watched her go before scooting the chair closer to Julia and lowering herself into it. She watched a beetle climbing up the opposite tent wall.

  “Didn’t you get the memo that it’s winter and the world has gone to hell?” she asked him. She considered tossing him out into the cold but decided if he’d managed to survive so long, he deserved a cushy life in the warm tent.

  A tall, broad-shouldered redhead of about Riley’s age came in, followed by Mendez. The red-head walked directly to Riley and extended her hand.

  “Dr. Poole, I’m guessing. I’m Claire O’Brian. Pleased to meet you. Can’t imagine how happy we are to have you here. How’s the lass?”

  Claire had a booming voice to match her frame and a strong Irish accent. Riley felt stronger just being in her presence and took to her at once. Between Claire and Dashay, their medical staff was shaping up nicely.

  Mendez gave a slight nod. “Evening, Dr. Poole.”

  He reminded Riley of the thousands of Airmen she’d seen pass through the base back home. He had a faint Spanish accent.

  “Evening, Mendez. I wanted to thank you for offering to help with Julia last night. I don’t want you to feel like we’re pushing you out the way. I hear you’ve been doing an admirable job running the medical staff here.”

  He ran his hand through his closely cropped brown hair. “Well, someone’s lying, then. I’m just a lowly Army medic with no idea how to run a medical clinic. You and Dr. Cooper are a godsend.”

  “Glad you feel that way. We’ll still need your skills.”

  Claire stepped between them and put her hands on her ample hips. “Enough with the pleasantries. How’s that girl of yours?”

  “Barely hanging in there. She needs a transfusion, at the very least. She’s O-neg. That will complicate things.”

  “Excuse me for saying so, Dr. Poole, but you look like hell. We’ll keep tabs on your little angel. Go get some food and rest. She’s in good hands.”

  Riley chuckled. “Thanks for the compliment, but I am starving. I’ll be in the mess tent if there’s any change. I’ll try to round up some blood donors before I return.”

  Claire gave a snort. “Good luck with that crew out there. They aren’t exactly the giving kind.”

  Riley let the comment pass and kissed Julia’s forehead on her way out to get dinner. As she crossed the square, she saw a bedraggled group huddled around a campfire. Coop waved and joined her to walk to the mess tent. He kissed her cheek and asked about Julia.

  “Sleeping. Stable but weak. Thanks for checking on her earlier,” she said. “She’s lost too much blood, Coop. Since neither of us are the right blood type to help her, do you think these people would be willing to donate? They look so frail themselves, but I’m not sure Julia will survive without a transfusion.”

  “They are malnourished, no thanks to our captors stuffing their faces in the mess tent, but I’ve heard they were awed by the way you ordered Branson’s men around last night. You’re a bit of a hero. That might soften them up, but give them a minute to meet you before asking for blood.”

  “Noted, but I’m no hero, just a momma bear desperate to save her cub. Have you eaten?”

  “Yes, such as it was. With an outfit like this, I’d expected bigger portions. I hear Branson is generous with his staff but holds out on any who refuse to kiss up to him. Looks like we might be going hungry.”

  “I’ll welcome anything at this point. Go back to the fire. I’ll join you after I eat.”

  “I’ll save you a seat,” he said, then walked back to the fire-pit.

  She entered the mess tent and was pleasantly surprised at how warm it was until she saw a large wood-burning stove in the center of the room. She wondered why the group at the fire hadn’t stayed inside like Branson’s people at a long wooden table near the stove.

  She found the cafeteria-style serving area and went to get her food. The young woman behind the rough-wood counter served her soup in a metal cup and two pieces of dry bread. She carried her meal to a smaller table near the stove to eat. Even though the soup was mostly broth, it was steaming hot and smelled delicious. It was the first hot meal with fresh meat that she’d had in weeks.

  She sipped the soup between bites of bread and watched Branson’s people. The group consisted of fifteen men and women, mostly men. They had a much bigger dinner piled in front of them, and laughed and chatted like they didn’t have a care in the world. Riley’s stomach growled at the sight of their plates steaming with food. She was tempted to assert her authority as medical chief of staff and demand more to eat but knew it wouldn’t be fair to the others at the campfire, so she lowered her eyes and stared at her soup.

  She finished eating as quickly as she could, then reluctantly went to join Coop outside, hoping she could convince him and the others to come inside the warm mess tent. Being in the heat would be healthier for them than shivering outside, even if they had to share the space with Branson’s people.

  Coop caught her eye as she came out and pointed to the chair he’d saved for her. She was grateful since it meant she wouldn’t have to sit on one of the stumps set in a circle around the fire. A man she didn’t know handed her a thin blanket. She nodded in thanks and arranged it over her legs as she studied the people seated around her. Most of them looked like she felt; frightened, scared, exhausted. They were probably no different than her before the CME, average Americans going about their ordinary existence before being thrust into this nightmare world.

  Riley counted twenty men, fifteen women, and eight children. Four boys who looked to be Julia’s age, and one girl who looked around nine, stood behind the a
dults. A boy and a girl each about Jared’s age sat with their parents. The youngest was a boy of about three. Riley wondered how he’d survived. He was sitting at one of the women’s feet, drawing in the dirt with a stick, seemingly oblivious to what was happening around him. Maybe that was the solution to survival: selective oblivion.

  Coop introduced her to the group, but the names and faces were a blur. She should have paid better attention since this could be her collective for months to come, but all that mattered was saving Julia.

  “Riley’s daughter needs a blood transfusion, so we need donors,” Coop said after the introductions. “We know it’s a lot to ask. We’d use our own blood, but Julia’s type O-negative and can only receive that type of blood. Riley and I are both A-positive, so we’re incompatible. Are any of you type O-negative and willing to donate to save Julia?”

  Most glanced at each other or stared at the ground. A few shrugged.

  The woman with the little boy raised her hand. Riley thought her name might be Kelly. “I’m willing to help, but I don’t remember my blood type.”

  “Me, either,” a man named David said. He looked like he was in his mid-fifties but seemed fit and healthy enough. “I used to know in my Marine days, but that was years ago.”

  “How many of you know your blood type?” Riley asked. Only five raised their hands. Of those, only two looked healthy enough to spare their blood. She turned to Coop. “I forgot to ask Dashay if we have a blood typing kit.”

  “I’ll ask Mendez. He’ll know.”

  As he left for the infirmary, an image of hospital cabinets back home stocked to the brim with every kind of medical device or kit imaginable flashed in Riley’s mind. She added it to the list of things she’d taken for granted in the pre-disaster world. Would something as simple as the lack of a blood type kit cost Julia her life?

  She took a breath and stood to address the group. “If we obtain testing kits, are any of you others willing to donate?”

  The adults avoided her eyes, but one of the teenage boys raised his hand. “I’ll do it.”

  Riley was about to thank him when a man stepped between them. “That’s generous of you, son, but I won’t allow it. You need to keep up your strength. Sorry, Dr. Poole.”

  Riley stepped closer and stretched her tiny frame to appear menacing. “How about you, then? You look healthy enough.”

  He held her gaze without flinching. “Why should I? When our daughter died, no one stepped in to help us.”

  Riley relaxed her shoulders and stared at the ground. In her desperation to save Julia, she’d forgotten that hundreds of thousands, if not millions had died. Every person in that group had probably lost a loved one. How could she expect them to sacrifice for a stranger?

  “I’m sorry. Tell me what happened, Mr…,” she said softly.

  “It’s Marcus. She was Type I diabetic. We begged and pleaded for insulin everywhere we went. No one helped us. She slipped into a coma and died in my arms.”

  “Has the whole human race gone mad?” she whispered and closed her eyes for a moment. “What was your daughter’s name?”

  “Cassie.”

  “You have my deepest sympathies. We’ve suffered tragedy as well. Losing Cassie might help you understand what I’m going through. If Julia dies, it won’t bring Cassie back to you. Refusing to help will make you like the people who refused to come to your aid. Do you want to become what they are?”

  He lowered his head and put his hands in his pockets. “I don’t. If you find a testing kit and I’m a match, I’ll donate to save your daughter.”

  Riley walked to him and extended her hand. He ignored it and pulled her into a hug. A few others circled around them and offered to donate.

  A woman stepped from the shadows beyond the fire. “I’ll donate if I’m compatible.”

  Riley recognized the voice, but it took a moment to match it to her face. “Angie!” she cried and threw her arms around her friend. “We thought you were dead. We went to the church, but no one knew what happened to you.”

  Angie stepped away and wiped her eyes. “Mystery solved. I’ve been a hostage here since that horrible night. So, one of these monsters shot Julia? Let me guess, Jepson? He has a reputation around for being trigger happy.”

  “He’s the one. We were able to repair the damage, but she’s lost a lot of blood and needs a transfusion. Do you know your type?”

  “I think I’m O-positive, but I’m not sure.”

  “Angie, thank God,” Coop said, and gave her a tight hug. Riley caught his eye, hoping for a positive answer about the testing kits, but he shook his head. “They used the last of the supply two days ago. We need to get our hands on a test kit.”

  “Our benevolent jailers might have what you need,” a man called from behind Riley.

  She swung around to see who’d spoken. A small, balding man of about forty sat on the ground twenty feet from the campfire. He slumped against the tree he was tied to, wrapped in a thin blanket and visibly shivering.

  “Who’s that and why is he tied to a tree like a dog?” Riley asked as she started for him.

  Marcus put his hand out to stop her. “Leave him be.” He cocked his head toward the mess tent. “That bunch won’t like it if you help him.”

  “Why? What did he do?” Coop asked.

  “That’s Dr. Adrian Landry,” Angie said. “He knew hell was about to rain down on us and didn’t tell anyone. Our captors weren’t too happy to hear that.”

  Riley walked past Marcus’ outstretched arm and grabbed two blankets from one of the camp chairs. “Another doctor? We can use him. I don’t care what he’s done.”

  She marched up to the man and held the blankets out to him. He stared but didn’t move to take them. Riley squatted and draped the blankets over his legs and chest. She hesitated when she saw his bound hands folded in his lap. The skin on his wrists was raw and festering. Riley felt him watching her and raised her eyes to meet his. She excepted to see pain and humility, but his look was one of challenge.

  The patch of ground where he sat was clear of snow, so Riley sat facing him with her legs crossed. She pointed to his wrists and said, “Did you do that trying to escape?” He nodded without taking his eyes off hers. “Do you have other injuries?”

  Dr. Landry lifted his shirt to expose his bruised torso. “They nearly beat me to death.”

  Riley’s eyes widened at the severity of his bruising, fearing he’d suffered internal bleeding. “What did you do to warrant this?”

  “I did nothing. That’s the problem.”

  Riley reached forward and gently untied the rope holding him before climbing to her feet. She held out her hand to help him up. “I’ll listen, and I’ll treat your wounds. I’m a doctor, too. Can you stand?”

  He didn’t move. “The rest will turn on you if you help me.”

  “Let them try.”

  “What’s going on?” Coop asked and pointed his thumb at the group behind them. “They got agitated when they saw you untie him.”

  “Why? He’s too weak to hurt anyone. Help me get him to his feet. Careful, he’s injured.”

  Riley and Coop lifted Dr. Landry to his feet. He was so weak they practically had to carry him to the infirmary. Riley ignored the angry stares from the others as they passed. No matter what the doctor had done, no one deserved to be tied to a tree in the dead of winter.

  Riley and Coop worked quickly to clean and examine Dr. Landry. When she was satisfied that they’d done what they could to get him warm and stable, she pulled a chair next to his cot and sat facing him with her arms folded.

  “Coop, would you mind checking on Julia?” He nodded and walked to the other end of the makeshift recovery ward. “Now, tell me why they think you deserve to freeze to death tied to a tree, Dr. Landry.”

  “Please, call me Adrian.” She smiled and motioned for him to continue. “The first thing you need to know is that I’m not a medical doctor. I’m an astrophysicist.”

  “Disappointing.
Another set of skilled hands would have been invaluable. If you’re an astrophysicist, tell me why the CME struck twenty hours early and was far more destructive than predicted.”

  “You won’t like the answer. That’s how I ended up like this.” He pointed to his bandaged torso.

  “It can’t be worse than what I’ve been through in the past few weeks. Just tell me.”

  “I was working at the Goddard Space Center outside of D.C. before the solar storm began.” Adrian rubbed his face and sighed. “I’m a solar specialist. I was the first person to spot the second CME. Tragically, I was so focused on that eruption that I failed to see the first CME until it was too late.”

  “I’m confused. First CME, second CME. There were two?”

  “The second CME was the one the world was warned to expect. The first CME was twice the size, but due to mass, position, and strength, it reached Earth in sixteen hours instead of thirty-six.”

  Riley jumped to her feet. “Sixteen hours? Why weren’t we warned like the other one?”

  He waved for her to sit. She hesitated before sinking back onto the chair. “I alerted the director the instant I spotted the first CME. He alerted Vice President Kearns since the president was out of the country. Her response was to order me to the White House.”

  “Couldn’t you have told her what she needed to know over the phone?”

  “She wanted to interrogate me in person and needed a scapegoat. She was far more concerned with political fallout than saving lives.”

  “That’s harsh. She’s always seemed like a decent person to me.”

  Adrian stared at her with cold eyes. “You weren’t there.”

  “Fair enough. Continue.”

  “The last place I wanted to be was the White House. I wanted to go to my family and warn them, but who can refuse the vice president? I FaceTimed my wife and kids and told them how to prepare. I drove to the White House, fearing I’d never see them again.”