“You could have lost that hand,” Roper said calmly. “You were holding the initiator, weren’t you? When it went off?”
Jared grimaced. “You’ve already got that figured out, so why ask?”
A moment’s silence passed. “I could’a told you that late model cars use sodium azide, not potassium perchlorate; even if you had disconnected the battery—which you didn’t—you gotta handle those babies with care!”
“I thought you didn’t know anything about explosives,” Jared muttered.
“I don’t know anything about building bombs,” Roper agreed, “but I do know airbags. I’ve replaced about a hundred of ‘em. Every car that isn’t totaled after an accident needs a new air bag.”
“Did you get us more?” was all Jared grunted back.
“Since you got injured? No. Your arm needs attention.”
“That was stupid,” Jared said. “We’re already out here. Should have taken advantage of being out here and pulled a few!”
Roper shook his head. “With your arm, I was afraid--." he stopped.
“Afraid what?”
Roper hesitated. “I don’t know; I’m no doctor.”
“Afraid WHAT?” Jared replied. “Tell me what you think.”
“I’m not a doctor,” Roper objected.
“Just tell me, you d---- sissy!” Jared cried.
Roper shook his head but he had to smirk. “This sissy just saved your life, soldier.”
That hit its mark and Jared went silent. Finally he said, in a more subdued tone, “Tell me.”
“Fine! My ignorant, un-expert opinion is that you may lose that arm or at least your hand. You were bleeding out and your hand was looking blue—what was left of it. You need medical help NOW! I’m surprised you haven’t gone into shock.”
Jared nodded. If he thought he owed thanks to Roper, he didn’t say it. His voice was lazy when he asked, “So, if I’d cut the battery, I would have been okay to pull the bag?”
“Not immediately. If that battery had power, you gotta wait after you cut it. I wait at least ten minutes; some guys wait up to an hour or two; some guys wait up to a day or two.” Roper swallowed and added, “Some newer cars have capacitors that can hold a charge for awhile—so you always have to be careful.”
“I never saw you wait that long. When you were removing them.”
“Like I said, ten to fifteen minutes ought to do it. But it’s a moot point, now. We’re home—look. I’ll come back out with someone else after we get you back, and we’ll grab us a bunch more of them for you.”
They moved on in silence until Jared suddenly said, “Tell me what else to do. For next time.” Roper had to hand it to Jared. If nothing else, the man was determined. He wasn’t worrying about losing a limb or planning on letting someone else do the dangerous job of pulling the initiators; he wanted to know how to do it himself. It was the first time Roper felt any admiration for him.
“You used the right tools,” he said, “which is good.”
“You didn’t leave any behind, did you?” Jared snapped.
“No way,” Roper said, “Are you kidding? A good T30 Torx bit socket, a ratchet, and a flathead screwdriver? I’m not that stupid.”
They came up over a small rise in the road and now could see the compound ahead. The frontage no longer had the tree and bush cover of its former days, thanks to a company of soldiers whose parting gift, after a battle, was to throw Molotovs at the greenery, burning it up. The entrance was barricaded, though, with a mountain of debris, including the two destroyed trucks the soldiers had left, tree limbs, discarded furniture, and just plain garbage. Recently someone had come up with the additional pungent idea of dumping human waste around the frontage, too. It was supposed to be just one more deterrent, they hoped, against any intruders, even an army of them. Roper and Jared would agree it was effective.
“We have to enter up the side, along the ravine. We did a good job of blocking the front—good FARMSEC,” Jared said, nodding at the barrier.
Roper pulled a two-way from his pack and turned it on. FARMSEC—that was farmstead security. The compound no longer had the look of a farm but the term had stuck. The sound of crackling air and garbled speech met his ears. Then the voice became clear. “Who’s this?”
“Hey, Prendergast. It’s Roper. Roper and Jared. We’re back. Hold your fire. We’re coming in.”
“Roger that, Roper.”
“Call the D.O.; Jared’s been hurt.”
“Roger that.” Another voice came on the line. It was Mr. Martin. “What happened, son? Was he hurt badly?”
“Let me talk,” Jared grumbled, and so Roper gave him the radio which he took with his good hand. “Airbag deployed on me while I was trying to pull it. My arm’s been hit.”
Mr. Martin and the other lookout, Mr. Prendergast, exchanged grave glances.
“Roger that. Come on in,” said Mr. Martin, softly.
Chapter 29
ANDREA
I was in the garden when I heard Lexie calling my name. She approached on Rhema, crying, “AN-DRE-AAH!” My heart sank. I thought it must be bad news. But when I stood up and she saw me, a big smile crossed her face and she spurred Rhema to come alongside where I was, careful to keep the horse off our precious vegetables.
“They’re back!” she cried, happily. “Roper’s back!”
I’d been hand-picking pests off the squash leaves. I gasped and grabbed my jar of bugs, aware that a huge grin had spread across my face. I picked up the lid and screwed it on rapidly. A second ago I was weary and hot but suddenly I couldn’t move fast enough! I hurried towards Lexie, smiling as big as I could.
“C’mon up,” she said, patting the saddle behind her. I peeled off my gardening gloves and carefully placed the jar and gloves against the short fence around the squash plot. Using one of the wooden stakes for a precarious lift, I heaved myself up, flopping on my stomach across Rhema’s wide back. The mare jostled on her feet.
“Keep her still!” It wasn’t until I raised myself up and straddled my legs, putting my arms around Lexie’s middle, that I felt safe.
“I can’t believe it! He’s back!” I cried, as Lexie spurred Rhema gently on.
“I know,” said Lexie. “Thank you, Lord!”
I saw Mr. Martin heading to the wooded side of the property ahead of us. He turned, saw us, and waved. Only then did I recall that I was hot with sweat, dirt-stained from kneeling in the garden, and wore no makeup. None of the women at the compound wore makeup but before the pulse, I always did. Even after I came here, I tried to wear a little. Especially after my face got cut up during that attack. Now with Roper back, I wanted to look the best I could, particularly because I still had a smudge of poison ivy on my cheeks.
I nudged Lexie. “Maybe I ought to go wash up, first.”
“No way! He’s gonna be tired, maybe hungry and thirsty. So the first thing he’s gonna see is your pretty face!”
“My pretty dirty face,” I said.
She turned on her seat, trying to see me. “Haven’t you heard? We’ve had an apocalypse. No one cares if your face is dirty!” She laughed, but I still felt uneasy. A girl likes to be confident at times like this and I wasn’t feeling confident. It suddenly struck me that I was possibly far more enamored with Roper than he was with me. What if a dirty face DID matter?
“Lex, I need to wash up!”
“You don’t!” she said. “Trust me! You look pretty. You have a pretty face and it’s not dirty, and even if it was, it would still be pretty.”
“I don’t feel pretty.”
“You will when Roper looks at you and you run into his arms.”
I loved the sound of that but wasn’t sure I had the nerve to do it. “You think I can do that?”
“Don’t you want to?”
“Well. Yes!” We were about to enter the woods and Lex cried, “Whoa,” bringing the horse to a stop. She turned enough to see me.
“So when you see him run into his arms. You’ve been te
lling me for weeks how much you care for him. And he’ll love it.”
“What about Jared?”
“Do you care about Jared?”
“No, not romantically.”
“Then don’t worry about him.”
I nodded. “Listen! I think I hear his voice!”
Smiling, Lexie spurred her horse lightly and we went towards the voices.
A group of men were gathered in an opening in the woods. Lex and I, still astride Rhema, made our way towards them. I saw Mr. Clepps, our D.O., and felt a pang of worry. Was somebody hurt? Was ROPER hurt?
“Let me off!” I gasped. Lexie halted Rhema and I swung my leg over and prepared myself for the drop to the ground. Rhema is sixteen hands, which is quite tall for me--but I landed on my feet and stayed there.
I hurried forward anxiously until I saw Roper and Jared astride a horse. Jared looked terrible, needing Roper to hold him up. Mr. Clepps said, “May as well continue on to the house with him up there, Roper. We’ve got a stretcher—we’ll take him off your hands there.”
“Good enough,” he said. He looked up and our eyes met. I drew in a breath, feeling his gaze like a thunderclap. Suddenly I was blinking back tears but he smiled that sweet, beautiful smile—though he looked tired and was caked with dust. As he nudged the horse forward, I kept my eyes on his face as he approached. He’d be going right past me to get to the house.
“Hey, young lady,” he said, with a wink, as he came abreast of me. His eyes surveyed me with interest, and I felt myself blush.
“Hi!” I could think of nothing more to say though my heart was full, and so I just stared up at him. He pulled on the reins and came to a stop. I swept my gaze over Jared, noting the blood-stained cloth his arm was wrapped in, and felt a pang of unease. But he was nodding as though it was difficult to keep his head up. His eyes were only half-opened.
“I gotta get him to the house,” Roper said, motioning at Jared with his head.
“I was worried about you,” I offered. He nodded. A familiar look crossed his face. I knew instantly that he was about to tell a joke. I was coming to know him well enough to recognize this! I smiled in anticipation.
“Worrying works. 90% of the things I worry about never happen.” He grinned and seemed ready to be off but then, looking at me closely, frowned. “What happened to your face?”
“Poison ivy,” I said, unhappily.
“Okay. It’ll heal.” Then he said, “I almost forgot. Check that first pack and take out what’s on top.” I went and checked the pack. There on top was a beautiful dried flower garland. I gasped and pulled it out, smiling.
He grinned. “Thought you’d like that.”
“Thank you!” I called, as he rode off slowly. I took the garland and hung it around my neck like a boa. And then I had to get a hold of myself. I was overjoyed at his return but weirdly I felt like crying.
Lexie was suddenly there with Rhema again. “Hey—pretty!” she said, about the garland. Then, “Get back up. We’ll follow them to the house.”
“Did you see Jared’s arm?” she asked, once I had mounted and we were moving again.
“Yeah. Didn’t look good. I wonder what happened.”
“My dad said something exploded. I wonder if he was trying to make a bomb out there.”
We fell silent for the rest of the short ride. Three men were helping get Jared off the horse. When he was down, they moved him onto a waiting stretcher made from an old wooden door.
“Don’t touch the arm!” I heard him bellow despite how weak he looked.
Roper dismounted and Cecily stepped forward to take the reins. She turned and started walking the horse towards water and a meal.
I scrambled off Rhema, leaving the garland, and ran towards Roper, who was already surrounded by a group of people, all asking questions. I noticed, on the outskirts, Mrs. Schuman, our seamstress, with her arms wrapped tightly around a sobbing Evangeline. My heart constricted. I knew then that Roper had brought back no good news regarding my mother and her father. But he looked over and saw me and broke through the ranks, coming out with his arms outstretched. With a muffled sob, I ran into his warm embrace, throwing my arms around his middle and hanging on for dear life.
He held me, stroked my hair, and then kissed the top of my head. “It’s okay,” he said, soothingly. “We’re back, safe.” Then, “Good to know you missed me.”
I looked up at him. “You have no idea! What kept you away so long?”
He pursed his lips, thinking. “We had a lot of ground to cover.”
I had a million more questions but I wanted to soak up the warmth of his embrace. I shut my eyes and clung to him and didn’t want to let go.
Mr. Wasserman came over and began questioning Roper, whose hold around me loosened as he answered. I grew impatient, wanting his full attention. And I, too, wanted to ask a question, even though I dreaded the answer. Evangeline’s uncontrollable crying gave me an inkling of what was to come but I had to hear it from Roper. In a shaky voice, I asked, “Did you get to my house?”
He swung his gaze back down at me. Regret filled his eyes. “We did.”
“Any sign of my mom? Or Mr. Washington?”
He sighed. “I’m sorry.”
I wasn’t surprised but I felt a sharp stab of grief. “They might have been next door! Did you remember to look next door?”
“There was nothing next door. A burned out shell of a house. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
Mrs. Martin had been waiting patiently but now she stepped forward. “You must be tired and hungry, Jerusha,” she said, in her soft southern drawl. Roper and I shared an understanding look because I knew how he hated the name. Mrs. Martin was the only person who he allowed to use it. She put a hand on my arm. “Let this man come and get some rest and nourishment.”
Roper glanced at Mrs. Martin. “One minute.” He met my eyes and drew me up close again. He was going to kiss me!
It meant the world to me that he kissed me there right in front of so many people. If I hadn’t already loved the guy, those moments in his arms would have sealed the deal. There we were, in the middle of a hot summer day and suddenly, tight in his arms, I had the feeling of—Christmas! Being held and wanted by Roper was like Christmas morning—the best memory of my childhood, the best present I could ever get. Afterward, he allowed Mrs. Martin to turn him towards the house.
I had more questions about my house and neighborhood but they had to wait. Later I’d find out that our executive, upscale home was burned out like our neighbor’s house, a huge shell of brick and stone, with little inside but charred remains. I now have the sad image of our marble staircase covered with dirt and ash and fallen debris, just like the kitchen granite counter-tops.
As I watched Mrs. Martin lead Roper off, I hurried after them. “Wait!” I cried. “I can get him something to eat!” I didn’t want to let Roper out of my sight, to be honest. In fact, I hoped not to let him out of my sight for a long, long, time.
Passing Evangeline, who was still crying in Mrs. Schuman’s arms, I realized that she and I now had a sad thing in common. We’d each lost both father and mother since the pulse. But she was only eleven. I made a mental note to be kind to her for now on.
Chapter 30
ANDREA
Mr. Clepps and Mrs. Philpot spent a long time yesterday taking care of Jared in sickbay—the former women’s bedroom. Jared’s mother Jolene wanted to assist them but she kept bawling. “Don’t amputate his arm! Don’t you amputate!”
Mr. Clepps assured her he was not planning on doing that but Jolene hasn’t been well for a long time. Even Jared, in a lucid moment, told her to get out of the room. Finally, they had to call Mrs. Martin to remove her. She got even more hysterical and some of the men had to forcefully take her out and back to her cabin.
I went by sickbay briefly but then stayed far away, because there was no anesthetic—I got the last of it when my arm took the bullet—and I couldn’t stand to hear a man groaning. It made my legs t
ingle and go weak. (Lexie says that’s the beginning of getting into a faint! Never thought of myself as squeamish but I do feel guilty I used up the anesthetic.)
Roper is still asleep in his room, and I don’t dare try to wake him. He looked so exhausted, poor man, when he got back yesterday. But tonight we’ll have a council meeting, see what information we can get from Roper about their trip—and find out about Jared’s condition. I hope Jolene was really way off the mark about him possibly losing an arm.
LATER
So tonight there was another large gathering at the house. Mr. Clepps reported that Jared may be lucky enough to keep his hand and arm despite what may be an infection. Even so, he said there’ll be significant nerve damage. I heard him telling Mr. Martin quietly, though, that if circulation didn’t improve, and if we had the means to do it, Jared’s arm would warrant an amputation. He urged Mr. Martin to get a posse together to go “shopping” for more medical supplies.
“We just did that,” he said. “I took Blake and Mr. Simmons and we found very little—mostly just gauze and tape.”
“We should try again,” said Mrs. Philpot. Of course that raised a big argument because most people think there are no such supplies out there—whatever was available had surely been taken by now. There were lots of questions for Roper, and I was ALL EARS. I wanted details! What was it like out there? Did they see a lot of survivors? Did they see trucks of soldiers like the ones who attacked us?
Everyone had questions. Even Bryce, who hated violence, came to listen. Bryce was trustworthy as a lookout—he had an eagle eye—but we all understood that he’d never shoot anyone. Ever since that day when I’d easily grabbed a rifle right out of his hands to save my little brother, we knew that having PTSD after serving in Iraq meant he’d never again be a fighter.
Anyway, back to questions. My little brother Aiden asked if the world was still there, making everyone chuckle. But I get it! Life on the compound is like being in prison—it’s a safe prison unless we get attacked but it’s a restricted environment. No variation, day after day after day. I daydream about how we used to take drives, even to the store—at least it was doing something, going somewhere. Riding in a car! The monotony here can drive me crazy if I don’t distract myself. (And boy, do I miss real shopping. It’s hard to believe all our beautiful department stores must have been looted and destroyed. It makes me sad to think about it.)
The Pulse Effex Series: Box Set Page 78