The Pulse Effex Series: Box Set

by L. R. Burkard

  “I just stroke her hair and distract her with books or a toy. I need the distraction as much as she does.”

  Again she stared at me with agonized eyes. “I’ve lost too many people, Lex! I couldn’t stand to lose Roper, too!”

  Frankly, I was concerned that Andrea was growing more in love with Roper by the day. In her mind. They hadn’t known each other very long unlike Blake and I who have been friends for years. But I nodded understandingly. “I know,” I said. “I know.” Her distress had brought me to tears. We hugged.

  I can now say I feel just like Andrea.

  Bleak and dark.

  Chapter 10

  ANDREA

  When I came awake today the first thing I noticed was heat, the insufferable July heat. I hadn’t got out of bed yet and I already felt sticky. Mrs. Martin kept saying we’d get used to it, but I didn’t feel used to it. How long did it take to “get used to it?” I miss air conditioning! Summer will probably be ending by the time I get used to it.

  Lexie entered the room and brushed hay off her shorts. I realized she’d been to the barn while I was still in bed dreading the day.

  “We’ve got a bunch of new rabbits,” she said, “New Zealands.” Then she looked at me. With concern in her eyes, she asked, “You okay?”

  Last night she’d prayed with me about Roper, and I’d told her Lily had called me mama, and didn’t know whether I should let her call me that, and how I was convinced it meant my mother had died.

  Lexie pointed out that baby Lily is only a baby and can’t know that my mother died. I can see that she’s right, but I can’t shake the feeling that it was some kind of omen.

  “Don’t live by omens,” Lexie had said. “Live by the Word.” She’d held her Bible down over the side of the bed, and I’d reached for it, but she didn’t let me have it.

  “I’m reading. Use your own Bible.”

  So I did.

  I guess it’s superstitious to believe that Lily calling me mama meant anything. And yet the fact that she’s forgotten I’m NOT her mother says a lot in itself. It isn’t superstitious to know that my mother being gone this long probably means she won’t come back.

  So anyway, when she asked me if I was okay, I said, “I’m tired. And my arm aches.”

  “That’s it?”

  I hesitated. I knew she was waiting to see if I was still upset about my mother and Lily. I was. But I was upset about a lot of things. And suddenly it spilled out.

  “I hate life and I want to go back to my old life. I want to be in air conditioning. I even want to go to school! I could see friends. I want to get my hair cut and buy new clothes and make-up; I miss my mother and I know I’ll never see her again, and I miss my father and I may not ever see Roper again, either!” I got more upset as I spoke, and by the time I’d finished I was wiping away tears.

  Lexie had certainly gotten more than she expected, but all she said was, “Oh,” looking at me with worried eyes. She came and sat down on my bed, frowning. “I can cut your hair.”

  “I know. Thanks.” Blinking, I studied her. She hadn’t felt well yesterday. “You don’t look so good either.” Her face was pale, and she had circles beneath her eyes. Lexie never had circles beneath her eyes. She slept remarkably well and usually had a look of country peace and wholesomeness about her, even now when most of us seemed chronically stressed out. Today she looked like one of us.

  She said, “I’m okay. Why don’t you get a day off? Tell them you don’t feel good. I got the day off yesterday, remember?”

  By “them,” she meant her mom and other women who would be overseeing the day’s chores.

  “You should take today off, too. You look tired.”

  “I’m better,” she said. “Anyway, I’ll watch Lily today so you can chill out and rest.”

  “Chill out? Not in this heat!” But I had an idea. “Why don’t we both try to get the day? Imagine having a whole day just to hang out like teenagers? Wouldn’t that be cool?”

  She got a far off look in her eyes, as though she was reaching back, back before the pulse, back to what it had felt like to be an ordinary teen. For both of us, it felt like a previous life. I could hardly fathom how I used to get upset over such meaningless stuff—a friend giving me the cold shoulder, or an assignment I’d handed in late. It was all meaningless, now. And I thought I had worries. Really? They were nothing!

  Next to what’s on our plates now, I’d take the worst day of my former life in a heartbeat. A small voice inside reminded me that if I went back I wouldn’t know Roper; I wouldn’t live with Lexie; wouldn’t know how to cook pancakes and stew and corn bread and other things from scratch. I wouldn’t ride horseback, or be a sharp shooter.

  I wouldn’t have a bullet hole scar in my left upper arm, either—but that was life. Anyway, Lexie’s expression changed. She looked doubtful.

  “They’d never let us both off; there’s too much work to do.” She sniffed. “But you look like you really need it. So get the day off.”

  “To do what?” I asked. “Read a book?” I’d seen Lexie the day before with her nose so deep in a book that she hadn’t even noticed me when I came up to the room to change into clean clothes. I’d been helping in the garden and needed something not drenched in sweat.

  She smiled. “Yes! Or help in the kitchen. Today’s baking day; that beats working in the sun.”

  “Alright. I have to put some clothes away and then I’ll go ask. Thanks.” I forced myself out of bed. As I put away a pile of line-dried clothing stiff to the touch that someone had brought in from outside and left, I decided Lexie was right. Why shouldn’t I get a day off? My bullet arm ached; I had no energy; and I couldn’t stop worrying about that incredibly handsome, sweet guy who I knew now that I wanted to marry. I kept seeing his blue-grey eyes, sparkling like a lake in sunshine. If only I’d gone with him! If he’d been killed, then I’d be killed, too. I wanted out! I wished I could get off this rotten compound!

  At the very least, I would insist on a day off from my usual chores. Maybe I’d even escape in a book like Lexie.

  As I rounded the door into the former women’s bedroom which now Lexie and I call sick bay (in honor of Star Trek, which we both miss) I felt relieved; at least I wasn’t confined here any longer, as I had been after I was shot. Hearing a sound, I stopped to listen. Someone was getting sick. What used to be a closet was cleared out for a dry sink and a portable toilet. This made the room more like a real sick bay and right now it seemed someone was really sick.

  I backed out to the hallway because the sound was getting to me. I didn’t want to get sick, too. And then to my surprise the person who walked out a minute or two later still not looking like her usual healthy self, was Lexie. She seemed startled to see me.

  “Lex! You’re sick!” I cried.

  “I’m okay.”

  “I heard you—you’re sick. You need today off more than I do.”

  “I’m not sick,” she said. “It’s just something I ate.” She looked at me. “Did you get the day off?”

  “I came here to ask. I—.”

  “My mom can give you a day off. You don’t need Mrs. Philpot to sanction it just because she’s a nurse.”

  “OK; but she’d know if I really need it.”

  “You need it. My dad had a friend who used to take days off and come out to the farm to play at being rustic; he called them ‘mental health days.’ So if nothing else, I think you deserve a mental health day.” I held my stomach just then, as a strong cramp overcame me.

  “Ohhh, it’s that time of the month,” she said.

  I stared at Lex. How annoying of her to know right away. She was right, of course. I sniffed. “Maybe.”

  She patted my arm, looked around and then back at me, and whispered. “Look. I still have some sanitary pads. I’ll give you a few so you don’t have to use rags on the heaviest days.”

  “You still have some? And you didn’t tell me?”

  She looked taken aback. “I don’t have
to share EVERYTHING with you. I’m allowed to keep some of my stuff, you know.”

  I frowned. “But you listened to me griping last month about not having pads and you didn’t offer me any then.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m offering you some now. Do you, or do you not want them?”

  “I do.” I forced myself to add, “Thank you.” I was miffed that she’d been holding out on me, though.

  “Okay,” she said, and started to walk off.

  “Can I have them now?”

  She turned and smiled. “So it IS that time. I thought so. You’re weepier than usual. I’ll get them.” She walked off, grinning.

  I felt freshly annoyed. There was nothing funny about me getting weepy because it was my time of the month. If anyone had anything to be weepy about in fact, it was me. And she got weepy too—sometimes. And it’s not like I can actually help it. My mother was the same way.

  I decided the real reason Lex knew was because once we were rooming together, our periods got more and more in alignment. I suppose if we’d asked Blake about it, he’d know some scientific reason why that happens when women are in close quarters. That’s what Mrs. Martin told us last month—that it happens. She didn’t know why, something about hormones. But isn’t it weird that an internal thing like a menstrual clock can be affected by somebody else’s menstrual clock?

  And then it struck me. Why didn’t Lexie have HER period? Had she offered me her pads because she DIDN’T NEED THEM? And I’d heard her getting sick! Suddenly it seemed startlingly clear: Lexie was pregnant! She was carrying Blake’s baby!

  The thought stunned me. I almost wanted to run after her but I didn’t feel like running. When she returned and handed me a full package of pads, I guess I was staring at her because she asked, “What?” Then, misunderstanding my look, she added, “You can have them all.”

  “I guess you’re not going to need them, huh?” I spoke slowly. She looked at me strangely, but her mom called her, and she said, “Gotta go! See you later!”

  We’d had talks about whether to get physical with guys. We’d talked about her and Blake, mostly. She always insisted she’d wait until marriage and that Blake was on board with that, but now I wonder. I think all of her protests about it being wrong and sinful were just to throw me off track.

  I can’t imagine what Mr. and Mrs. Martin will say! Of course I’ll try to keep her secret but I have to admit I’m disappointed with Lex and Blake. Lexie has always seemed like the model Christian—aside from when she wouldn’t forgive me for flirting with Blake. At least now I know she’s human.

  LATER

  I love having regular pads again. Not quite as good as the brand I used to like but it’s wonderful next to the rags and paper I’ve been using. Anyway, I found Mrs. Martin and got the day off from chores except I still have to watch Lily. So really it’s not a day off. That baby is work! But she’s precious and I enjoy her. My arm is extra sore though, because she was getting goofy and rammed her little fist into my arm, right where the wound was. Ouch.

  Some days I actually forget I’ve been shot. Other days I’m sure I can feel a bullet in there but Roper assured me he’d found “my bullet,” as he calls it. Jared asked to see it the day I was shot—I was unconscious, but Lexie told me Roper gave it to him. And heʼs never given it back.

  If Jared returns, I hope he still has it—though I won’t have the nerve to ask him for it. And he’d better have Roper with him, too.

  After two hours Lily finally took a nap. When she did, I got to do—nothing!

  .

  Chapter 11

  ROPER

  When they started out from the Martin compound, Jared had confidently asserted that he and Roper should only be gone a few days. Jared needed certain items to build more weapons and Roper had come along to be of help. They’d each taken a horse with saddle bags, not only for provisions, but in hopes of needing the animals to help bring back the booty.

  Both men knew it was risky business. Numerous times they’d had to leave the road to take cover when they heard vehicles approaching. Each time it was an army truck or a group of them, just like the ones that had attacked the compound.

  On other occasions they’d led the horses through brushy woods or swampy ravines to get out of sight from bands of men. They were often forced off the road this way or stuck waiting for it to clear—and meanwhile the days passed, and they still lacked what was needed.

  It was now going on three weeks and they’d gathered precious little in the way of supplies—not enough to fill a saddle bag.

  From the outset, it had become clear to Roper that he and his companion were cut from two very different cloths. They disagreed on just about everything. Their mission, for instance. Way back on day one, Roper wanted to check Andrea’s house first, fulfill their promise and get it over with. But Jared said, “We’ll check her house eventually, but first we concentrate on weapons.”

  Roper said, “We should check the house first, in case her mother is holed up there.”

  Jared shook his head. “Look, you know as well as I do that Andrea’s mom is a goner. She was dead the moment she stepped foot off the compound. Her and what’s his name—Washington—they were both dead the minute they left.”

  Roper frowned. “We don’t know that for sure.”

  Jared snorted. “They were stupid enough to leave, they weren’t trained in the use of firearms or any survival skills I know of—what do you really think their chances were? They’re gone, I’m telling you.”

  “We gave Andrea our word that we’d check her house—.”

  “And we will. If we can. Weapons, first. The whole compound is depending upon us. I’m not gonna risk this mission for a foolʼs errand.”

  From then on, it seemed like one thing after another raised disagreements between the two. When Roper agreed to put off searching for Mrs. Patterson, he said, “Okay, so how do we find weapons?” They were on the road, alert for the presence of other people or other threats.

  Jared glanced at him, caustically. “We don’t.” After a long pause, during which Roper tried to decide whether to ask another question of his ornery companion, Jared added, “I told you—I told everyone at the last meeting—we build them. What we need to find are the ingredients.”

  Roper’s brow was raised, as he wondered where they’d find material to make guns or bullets. Jared’s next words revealed he had other things in mind, however.

  “The Martins have sugar and fertilizer we can use, if I can keep them convinced it’s more important for defense purposes than for growing crops.”

  Fertilizer and sugar? Oh, right. Jared’s idea of adding to the compound’s arsenal meant making a stash of homemade bombs and grenades.

  “That means we only need to find fuel,” Jared continued. “And aluminum or some other metal that can be flaked or ground up.”

  “Where do we get that?”

  Jared shrugged. “Garbage dumps. Garbage piles. Abandoned homes.”

  Roper’s face scrunched in thought. “I read once that you could use just fertilizer to build bombs.”

  Jared didn’t turn, but nodded. “Yup.”

  “So if the Martins have a lot of fertilizer, I mean, they’re farmers and should have a lot, right? Why not make bombs that use just fertilizer?”

  “I might do that—in winter. Fertilizer—that’s ammonium nitrate—those bombs need to stay cold. They’re not stable. Right now I’m looking for stuff that’s gonna work without ice, because we don’t have ice.” He looked scornfully at Roper. “Unless you happen to know where we could get us some.”

  Roper didn’t bother to answer. No one had ice, now.

  They scoured the countryside for buildings or storefronts that might house useful items but so far everything had been a wash; either already emptied out or burned down.

  Even the roads which had been sprinkled with dead cars after the pulse, were now cleared in the center for as long as they could see in either direction. They figured the gue
rrillas, who needed to get about in army trucks, had cleared them. The cars had been pushed roughly out of the way. Many sat at odd angles, their rear tires upended, or on their sides; some were even completely upturned or pushed off-road.

  They slowed their horses when they came upon a complex of huge storage buildings. According to the sign, it had been a giant indoor flea market before the pulse. The large warehouse doors were busted and hanging open but otherwise intact. There was no evidence of arson. Jared slowed, surveying the place.

  “You think there’s anything left in there?” Roper asked.

  Jared nodded, looking thoughtful. “Looters look for food. Could be they’ve left behind things we need. Like fireworks. There’s lots of black powder in fireworks. Maybe we’ll find us some nails, tacks, BBs, or ball bearings…Keep an eye open for anything that can cause damage after an explosion.”

  “It would be easier to check out Andrea’s house first while we’re not carrying a lot. We can come back on the return trip and get whatever’s here.”

  Jared’s brows furrowed. “If there are supplies here, they can be taken by anyone. We need to determine what’s here, take what we can while we can, and then get to the house.”

  Roper’s face went bland. He hadn’t expected Jared to budge but figured he’d give a last-ditch effort for Andrea’s sake. Surely the more time that passed, the less chance there was of finding her mother alive. He’d do it alone if he could, but he didn’t dare split up—they were supposed to have each other’s back.

  “If you see anyone, don’t stop to ask questions,” Jared said, as they approached the building.

  Now Roper’s brows creased. “If I see people, I usually talk to them. Unless they are clearly a threat—.”

  “All people are a clear threat.”

  “Not all.” He gave Jared a look of alarm.