Charlie's Requiem Novella

by A. American

  Captain Braddock stepped down from the table and strode back to the administrative side of the building. Two of the judges, Judges Bender and Hernandez had been stuck in the jail since yesterday afternoon. Both had been in the middle of arraignment hearings when the power died and both sat with open shirts and no shoes, trying to stay as cool as possible in the stifling heat.

  “I don’t see that we have a lot of choices here,” Bender said to the room. “If this goes on for more than a few days, we’ll have to let as many of the non-violent prisoners go as we can.”

  “I think we’re jumping the gun a bit,” Judge Hernandez replied.

  “I wish we were,” Captain Braddock retorted. “We’ve been through this already. There are no emergency protocols for this type of situation. We’ve most likely been hit with an EMP, and with the lack of anything electronic working at all, we have to prepare for the worse.”

  “We have printed records of the inmates and over 4000 of these records to go through.” Bender said. “We need to start now and organize the prisoners into groups that can be processed if we have to start releasing them. It’ll take several days to figure out who we can release and who we need to keep. We have to start now if we are going to be in any shape to make an informed decision. We have 48 hours to move the non-violent prisoners out and deal with the rest.”

  “Why 48 hours?” Braddock asked.

  “While you were giving your little pep talk,” Bender said. “We got word from the kitchen that we only have enough food for a week. If this thing goes on, we have to save as much of the food as we can for the guards and the worse of the prisoners that must stay incarcerated.”

  “I get it. If we can release the drug offenders and other non-violent prisoners,” Hernandez continued, “we can stretch our supplies for a lot longer.”

  “This is impossible,” Braddock shot back. “Where’s the state government? Why hasn’t the Sheriff done anything? What the hell is taking so long to fix things?”

  “Captain,” Judge Bender said with a slow shake of the head. “It may never get fixed.”

  Chapter 12

  Day 2

  Charlie

  Kirkman Specialty Clinic

  The following day wasn’t much different at the office. We turned off all the lights and unplugged any electronic device that might still potentially be drawing power. We also consolidated all our important perishables into our medical refrigerator. By law, all medications or chemicals that need to be kept cold had to have their own refrigerator apart from a general purpose one. We kept the under-the-bar sized unit going in the sterilization area. We pulled out and discarded the few unneeded medicines that were in there and put in the food items we needed to preserve. With most of the cardiac dyes we used kept at room temperature, we lost little of value. We shut down the refrigerator in the break room and even turned off the water heater. With outside temperatures expected to stay in the high 80s for another day or two, the water was plenty warm enough.

  Later in the evening though, we started to get an understanding of what Dr. Kramer was worried about. Down the street at the Publix, a large group of people had gathered, demanding to be let in. The grocery store was about a block or two away and on the other side of the street from the cardiology office. Janice and I decided to investigate what all the commotion was about, sneaking out the staff entrance.

  After a block, we got a good look at the store. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

  From the looks of things, we could see Mr. Wayneright at the entrance. The few remaining employees had set up a table which blocked the front door. It looked like he was trying to organize the mob into a line. I moved closer to hear what he had to say.

  “People!” He screamed. “We have enough for everyone. PLEASE! Just form a line to your left.”

  From what I could hear and see, the mob of several hundred was pressing up against the table and glass entrance windows. With the power out for more than a day, tempers were flaring although most were listening to instructions.

  The savvy manager was distributing all the perishable items, including the frozen foods, meats and fresh fish. He was saving the canned and packaged items for later, hoping against hope that the power would return.

  “HEY!” A rough looking man yelled. “WE NEED MORE THAN THIS!”

  “YEAH!” Someone else yelled. “HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO HEAT UP A TV DINNER? NOTHING WORKS!”

  Several “customers” at the front became agitated as the rear of the crowd pushed forward, worried they wouldn’t be able to get their “fair share.”

  “PLEASE, PEOPLE!” the manager shouted. “IF YOU DON’T GET IN LINE, YOU WON’T GET ANYTHING. THERE IS PLENTY FOR EVERYONE!”

  Some of the men in the crowd began to organize the group, and eventually some semblance of order was found and a line formed. As he began to distribute the food, problems began almost immediately. The first in line was a middle-aged woman dressed in a business suit and high heels. Her hair and makeup were a disaster. Without power for a hair dryer or lighting for a mirror, the facade of civilization was rapidly disappearing.

  “Please,” she uttered. “I need more than a couple of frozen dinners. I need personal supplies and cigarettes.”

  “I’m sorry, but this is all we can spare right now.”

  Others in the crowd heard her pleas, yelling at her to move along. Eventually, she relented and the second person in line moved up. When the man only received two items, he complained bitterly that he had a family at home. Mr. Wayneright relented and gave the man four items. Mollified, he left and walked down the road towards Janice and me. As he passed, he turned to the two of us and muttered under his breath.

  “It’s shit over there,” he said.

  “What?” I asked.

  The disheveled man stopped and looked at me with eyes that didn’t look too sane.

  “I said its shit down there. If you want anything, you better go now. This isn’t going to last. That mob isn’t going to listen to anyone for much longer.”

  With that, he turned and marched down the road towards a residential area about a mile away.

  I turned to Janice, and we gave each other a knowing look. Dr. Kramer was right. Things were going to get out of hand real soon.

  We continued to watch as the crowd slowly moved along. Mr. Wayneright began giving each person in line four items and things were proceeding remarkably well when a scuffle broke out as a woman passed through and received her share. Another woman in the crowd saw her and screamed that her husband had already been through once.

  “SHE’S CHEATING!” The shrill woman yelled. “I KNOW HER. HER HUSBAND WENT THROUGH THE LINE ALREADY!”

  The accuser pointed to a man standing to the side. From his reaction, it appeared that the accusation was true. The shrill woman jumped out of line and knocked the other woman down. She began to gather up the dropped groceries when the husband jumped into the fray. Within seconds, a dozen men jumped the husband and began to beat him mercilessly. He did his best to cover his face as blow after blow and kick after kick rained down. His food was stolen and the couple was left on the ground with nothing but pain and injuries for their troubles. The wife struggled over to her husband. He didn’t move.

  “My God,” I said to Janice. “How can it get this bad this quick?”

  Janice stood in shock. She started to go to the couple’s aid when the husband slowly got himself to his feet and staggered to the back of the line once again. The wife sat on the ground sobbing. No one gave them comfort.

  I grabbed Janice’s arm and kept her from getting involved.

  “This is just the first day,” I whispered. “We need to get back and talk to Doctor Kramer.”

  She nodded silently and we retraced our steps back to the office. I was afraid. If this was what civilization was becoming and th
ere was food still on the shelf, I wasn’t looking forward to what the rest of the week would bring. We silently entered the side door and found Dr. Kramer in his office.

  “Dr. Kramer,” I said. “Janice and I went down to the Publix.”

  “Is it still there?” He replied. At first I thought he was joking, but then I looked into his eyes and saw he was dead serious.

  “Yeah,” I stammered.

  “Well, I guess it has only been a day.” He mused.

  “I can’t believe what we saw,” Janice added. “People were like animals!”

  “Was anyone killed?” He asked back.

  “Well… no!” I replied.

  “I’m surprised,” he countered. “It won’t be long now.”

  He smiled and got up, leaving the room to check on his patients. Janice and I sat in stunned silence. He was actually amazed that no one had been killed.

  We didn’t move for a while, and eventually Dr. Kramer returned from his “rounds” and sat heavily into his leather-backed chair.

  “What are we going to do?” I asked.

  “Go to DeLand,” he simply replied.

  “Not yet,” I countered. “You still may need us.”

  He didn’t respond. Instead he folded his hands together and placed them on his lap. Closing his eyes, he began to breathe heavily, and fell asleep. Like shutting off a light, he was alert and talking with us, and then he was out.

  Janice and I quietly left and found our spot behind the front desk. We quickly made up our bed for the night. We lay silently next to each other, neither of us speaking, but unable to sleep. After a while, I felt myself drifting off when I heard three “pops” from outside. At first, I thought someone had set off firecrackers, but the first three were followed by two deeper booms. Gunfire!

  I looked at Janice, both of us knowing that things had turned for the worse. I prayed that Mr. Wayneright was safe and grabbed Janice’s left hand with mine. We held each other like that until I finally drifted off to sleep. For the first time in my life, I was afraid to wake up the next day.

  Chapter 13

  Day 3

  Charlie

  Kirkman Specialty Clinic

  I awoke the next morning tired and short of patience. Another restless night and all we had to look forward to was more of the same. Janice struggled again as she tried to pull herself together. She may not have been a morning person before the apocalypse, but sleeping on the floor at work surrounded by the stifling air from 18 bodies wasn’t doing me any good either.

  The warm front had finally passed and cooler air hit me as I opened the front door. Most everyone was awake, the morning light shining through the glass doors and the smell of coffee wafting down the hallway. It had to be twenty degrees cooler than the day before, but that was just a guess. The bite of the air actually improved my attitude.

  Another benefit of the cold air was the lack of need for the air conditioner. Dr. Kramer took me outside and showed me his generator backup system. He had an equipment room on the side of the building. It was part of the building with a double metal door that opened into a bank of batteries and several breaker boxes. Because one of their offices was furnished for minor surgery, a compressor and vacuum were necessary in here as well to run the equipment.

  With no need for the air conditioner, the generator had not kicked on in a while. Kramer checked the propane tank gauge and was pleased that there was still 70% left. His mood improved dramatically.

  “Wow,” he said. “That’s encouraging. We started with 85% and have only used about 15% of the propane these past four days.”

  “We’re doing well?” I asked. I knew the answer, but his mood was so improved, I just wanted to hear a positive word or two from his mouth. We both needed it.

  “I should say so,” he gleamed. “We might be able to stay here for quite a bit longer. I think the electricity could last us upwards of two or three weeks.”

  We went back inside in a much better mental state. Breakfast was finished and bellies were full. We went back into his office and he invited me to sit with him. I suppose that I was different from everyone else there. I wasn’t an employee and I wasn’t a patient. Our relationship was more equitable. Not that I had anywhere near the training he had, and several of the nurses had just as much college education as me. But we spoke as equals before the power outage; and now I was the closest thing to a colleague he had.

  After some light hearted discussions about Florida football, we agreed that the end of the world couldn’t have come at a better time given their lack-luster performance to date. It was then that I realized I knew very little about this man.

  “Dr. Kramer, I hope you don’t take this wrong; but I was wondering about your family.”

  He stopped smiling and his demeanor softened.

  I wanted to probe further, hoping I didn’t open up any wounds or painful memories. I realized that I have never seen any of his family pictures. Most private offices have the obligatory picture of the wife, or wife and kids. His office was clinical and almost sterile in appearance. For all I knew, he could have been living in this room and sleeping on the couch since the day the clinic opened.

  “I expect that they are doing rather well.” He finally said. “They have a backup generator like we do here and they are surrounded by enough land that I would expect that they will ride this out just fine.”

  “That’s good to hear,” I replied. “I just realized that I’ve never spoken with you about them. I guess it’s because I’ve never seen any pictures here in your office.”

  “True,” he replied. “I don’t keep any here.”

  “You know,” I said, “that’s rather unusual. I’ve been in many offices and I think you’re the only one I know that doesn’t have at least one picture of someone on the desk or wall.”

  “It’s a conscious decision, Charlie.” He replied. “I like to separate my life into work and family. When I am at work, I work. When I am at home, I put my attention into them. I don’t like to mix the two.”

  “I suppose I can understand that,” I said. “But don’t you find comfort in seeing someone’s picture while you are here dealing with the stress of the job?”

  “No, it just reminds me that I have a better place where I could be. It’s a distraction that might take my concentration away from my job and my patients.”

  He pointed over my shoulder at a ceiling-to-wall bookshelf filled with medical periodicals.

  “I have to read all of those journals,” he stated. “They come every month, over a dozen scientific periodicals. It consumes me while I’m here. I don’t want to miss reading an article that might just save someone’s life because I was distracted by my wife’s beautiful smile or my children’s happy faces. I can’t take that chance.”

  I understood now. I understood that he was one of the few people I’ve met that allows for no wasted time. There was no downtime for Dr. Kramer, whether it was at work or at home.

  Before I could say more, he continued with the conversation.

  “We bought some land out west of here,” he said. “My wife and I both love the country. I was raised on a small farm in West Virginia and decided to head south to leave the country behind. Truth be told, I hated the snow.

  But after college in Gainesville, I began to realize that I still loved the country-life. My last residency in Cleveland cinched it for me. The snow and cold were brutal, and working in a larger city just didn’t sit well with me.”

  “Well, you sure didn’t pick a quiet spot here in Orlando,” I countered.

  “No,” he smirked back. “I didn’t figure on all the growth. When I got here in 1985, the city was still manageable. More importantly, my lovely wife is from the area; and with kids and a desire to avoid the snow, we agreed on Orlando. But, only if we could get out into t
he country and have a tract of land.”

  “So here you are,” I chided him.

  “Yes,” he happily sighed. “Here I am.”

  “How far away is your house?”

  “Not far from Monteverde,” he replied. “About 20 miles away.”

  There was a knock on the door as our friendly conversation was interrupted. Peg stuck her head in and informed us that several of the patients and staff wanted to have a meeting.

  We followed her out to the waiting room where all had assembled. One of the patients began the conversation.

  “Dr. Kramer,” he started. “First I want to thank you for giving us shelter these past few days. But my wife and I feel that we need to start back home now that the weather has cooled off a bit.”

  The man, in his late 60s, received several nods from like-minded people, including several of the staff.

  “Well, certainly.” He replied. “But how far do you have to travel?”

  Several patients began to speak at once. When it was all said and done, six of the eleven patients and the remaining staff members except for Peg and Janice had decided to return home.

  “We need some food and water to make the trip,” the patient continued. “We were wondering if you could help us with that.”

  Dr. Kramer had them all write down where they had to travel and they determined how much food they would need. We collected several pillowcases from laundry and created sacks that they could use to transport their food and personal items.

  By noon, all that wanted to leave had left, most living within ten miles of the facility. The drop in temperature would help them get home. More importantly, the rapid loss of civility meant that the longer they waited, the more dangerous it would become.