“Well, I don’t know him from Adam,” Axis said, his words dripping with hate. “And if he don’t want me to hear, I don’t trust him, either.” He put his rifle aside and sat back against the wall as if to watch Richard better. “If I had my say,” he sneered, looking straight at Richard, “we’d kill you right now.”
Richard’s father had drawn a pistol out while Axis spoke. Richard wondered why. “You mean like this?” his father asked. He pointed the weapon at the man.
Axis eyed him with surprise, but decided it was a joke. He snorted. “Yeah. Something like that.”
And then, bam! Richard jumped, while Axis slumped back, his head slowly falling to the side. A spatter of blood on the wall where his head had been was the only sign of the execution.
Richard felt the blood drain from his face. He turned to his dad. “You shot your friend!”
“He wasn’t my friend, son. And he threatened you.” He didn’t seem the least bothered by having just shot a person in cold blood. Calmly, he said, “Now; where are your mother and sister and cousin?”
Chapter 38
RICHARD
Richard stared at his father but said nothing. He could no longer deny the man was cold-blooded and dangerous.
“C’mon, Richie! It’s safe now, you can tell me where the family is.”
Still Richard was silent.
“Your mother!” He said, urgently. “Where—.”
“She’s dead.”
His father stared. “You’re lying to me.”
“I’m not lying!” Their eyes held for long seconds during which the older man saw Richard was in earnest.
“Sarah?”
“She’s alive.”
“Jesse?”
“No.”
His father swallowed and looked away. It was the first time Richard caught a glimpse of the man he used to know; his heart softened.
His father lay the pistol upon the bed, removed the magazine and checked it. “What happened to your mother?” His voice was low.
Richard’s face hardened. He swallowed. “She needed you.”
His father let out a breath, sighing heavily. “I know that….I tried...I couldn’t get back. It was the snow. And the cold—.”
“Yeah, I don’t want to hear about it, okay? We had our own troubles.”
“I’m sorry, son. I’m sorry.” A tense silence fell for a few seconds. “How did she die?”
Richard’s eyes blazed. “You really want to hear? You really want to know about that?”
When his father just stared but made no answer, he said, “Fine! She starved to death, Dad. Slowly, and painfully. Just like Jesse.”
“Why couldn’t you—.” His father turned on him but caught himself.
“I did what I could! We ate mice. MICE! Think about that.”
Their eyes locked, each filled with resentment. His father said, “You think I wanted that? You think I wanted—this? To leave my family alone? To lose my wife? A child?”
“I don’t know what you wanted but I do know what you did. Nothing. You never came home. We waited. We got stuck living in the library—.”
“The library?”
“There was a fire. Days after the pulse. Some idiot on the third floor tried to heat his apartment with a wood fire or something. We had to leave. We lost everything.”
“Everyone lost everything.”
“Some of them,” Richard returned slowly, “lost it together.” At that moment gunshot sent them both instinctively ducking for cover. The walls were reinforced but the wooden door wasn’t and had only the dresser in front of it.
“How’d you get here? Where’s your sister?” his father asked.
Richard didn’t speak right away and his father said, “Richard! You said you were hiding and we missed you. Where? Take us there now, son.”
“I can’t do that.”
The older man looked startled. “You can trust me, Richie! I’m your father!”
When Richard remained silent, he hissed, “How did you get to this cabin, anyhow? Of all the places in the world for you to show up….how is it that you are here?”
“I live here,” Richard said, heavily. His father almost choked.
“What?”
“You heard me, Dad, I live here. Or did, until you came along and ruined it all. I lived here with wonderful people who took me in. Me and Sarah. You attacked us for no reason—and ruined it!”
The man had that stunned look on his face again as he slowly sank back against the wall. His lank hands loosely held his rifle.
“I didn’t know,” he murmured. “How could I have known?”
“What have you become?” Richard asked. “What kind of man comes and attacks peaceful people?”
“They weren’t so peaceful last time we were here!” he retorted. “One of you shot Tiffany—one of us. After we indicated that we were leaving.”
Richard stared at him. “We should have shot all of you. After what you did!” His voice lapsed off, and then he spoke again, sounding troubled. “Why didn’t you just keep going? Why didn’t you look for somewhere easier to attack?” When his father didn’t answer right away, he added, “I don’t know you, anymore. I’ve done things I’m not proud of since the pulse but I never went around attacking and terrorizing people in their homes. If you hadn’t come against us the first time, no one would have been shot. You are to blame for that, not us. You are a man I don’t recognize.”
The older man nodded his head, accepting Richard’s words. Finally, he said softly, “Sarah. Where is she?”
“She’s safe.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere. I’m not telling you.”
His father leaned his head back, tiredly. But again, he said, “She’d want to see me. You know that. Where is she, Richard? Take me to her.” Richard stared at him but made no response.
“Look, you came out here to see me. I know you must still care.” He spread his hands out as he emphasized the next words, “I’m still your father.”
“My father wouldn’t go around leading a gang of marauders.”
“Your father would!” He whispered loudly and sat up in anger. “Your father would do whatever he needed to do to survive!” He stared hard at Richard. “It was lead, or be led. It was lead, or be slaughtered.”
“Yeah, I think you mean lead and slaughter others,” Richard said.
The man’s eyes blazed but they both fell silent as the sound of running feet went past in the hallway. “Walt! Walt! You here?”
Walt put up a hand, motioning Richard to silence. The voice stopped outside the door. “Walt! You in there?”
He made no response and soon the person walked off. They heard the sound of the back door slam. After another minute passed, his father said, “You know, I’m proud of you.”
“Don’t start, Dad!”
“But I am. I’m proud of you. You lost your mother and Jesse but you’ve managed to keep yourself and Sarah alive.”
“YOU lost mom and Jesse!”
“Okay. I lost mom and Jesse. But you kept yourself and your sister alive.” After another silence, he added, softly. “Please. I want to see my daughter.”
“Well, forget it, because I can’t take you to her. If you showed your face there, they’d want to kill you for what you did to their house and property. Which reminds me, why’d you do it? Why’d you have to destroy the doors and walls? Burn the barn? That was where we slept, Sarah and I!” His voice rose as his anger grew.
The older man shook his head. “They’ve got blood-thirst, son. Hungry people are desperate people; out of control. They’re not happy unless they’re causing destruction. If I tried to stop it, they would’ve turned on me.”
“That sounds real good, Dad. You’re just an innocent bystander. Except not all hungry people turn into killers, and I heard you order them to go after us and—quote—'make sure they’re not coming back.’ You’re a killer, now. Admit it! I don’t dare take you to the rest of us.”
After a moment’s silence during which his father just studied Richard, still keeping his head back, he said hopefully, “You probably need a leader. I don’t have to be cold-blooded. I’m telling you, you don’t understand what it’s like out there--."
“I’ve been out there! I DO understand! Sarah and I both have been out there. We didn’t become cold-blooded. We only fought back, we never started it.”
“Are you telling me you haven’t done bad things? Haven’t stolen anything? I don’t believe it.”
“I’ve stolen. From the dead. But I didn’t kill anyone. The first time I shot to kill was when your gang descended upon us and almost found me and—a.”
Suddenly from outside they heard shouting and gunfire—foreigners speaking excitedly—and then staccato blasts of bullets.
“Take me to your sister.” He sounded desperate now. “You can have all my guns. I’ll go unarmed. Just take me to see her!”
“I couldn’t do that if I wanted to. She’s not here any longer.”
His father’s face hardened.
“But you know a place to hide,” he persisted. “You can get us out of here, Richie.” Suddenly the smell of fire entered the room.
“Something’s burning,” his father said.
Richard gave a grim nod. “This is their calling card. They burn up everything before they leave.” Now curls of smoke began to pour in the room from beneath and above the door, and were even coming through the bullet holes.
“Look, Richard! You have to get us out. If we walk out of this cabin, they’ll shoot or take us. Is your hiding place safe from fire?”
Richard had to make a decision. If he waited, they’d both die from smoke inhalation. He nodded. “I can take you to a temporary safe spot. It’s just a ledge, not a place to stay, but good enough to sit out until the fire dies down and they’re gone.”
“That’s good enough for me!” He rose to his feet. “C’mon, boy, lead the way!” His father opened a dresser drawer and pulled out a few of Tex’s white t-shirts. He threw one at Richard. “Put it over your mouth and nose.” Together they moved the dresser aside and then cautiously opened the door to the hallway. Immediately smoke stung their eyes as it billowed around them into the room. The hallway was dark and oppressive.
The older man cried, “It’s now or never, son!”
Richard frowned. He didn’t want to take his dad to the ledge. But what choice did he have? If he hesitated, they’d die from smoke inhalation or burn alive. If he tried to escape alone, his father would only follow him and they’d both get captured by the soldiers. Coughing, he motioned to his father and led the way, thankful they had only to cross the hallway. Flames were shooting into the hall from other rooms. The walls were already hot to the touch. He crouched down and felt around the bottom of the wall for the hidden lever—and prayed that he was doing the right thing.
Chapter 39
ANDREA
We spent a tense hour praying and waiting for Blake to show signs of recovery. He nodded at a few questions but didn’t speak! When he remained groggy like that, his mother said we should let him sleep.
Mr. Martin feels responsible for what happened. I heard him say more than once, “I just assumed Blake knew to remove that tarp first and let any gases out—I just thought he’d know to do that.”
Mr. Buchanan, Blake’s father, has been kind. He’s a compact, muscular man with thinning hair. He shook his head, saying, “Blake should have known better; we’ve discussed this in the past, how manure pits can be death traps; he knows they build up methane, hydrogen sulfide, ammonia, carbon dioxide. He’s not new to this stuff.”
Lexie stood near the bed, her arms crossed tightly, and with a tear-stained face. “Why wasn’t he more careful, then?” she asked, plaintively.
Mr. Buchanan shook his head again. “He must have figured that lifting the tarp would give enough ventilation. Or maybe he wasn’t planning on doing more than taking a peek but was overcome so quickly he couldn’t back out.”
Mr. Clepps finally arrived after finishing up with Jared. He didn’t look too well with blood spattered on his shirt sleeves and he seemed stressed out—probably because he’d just performed his first amputation. He checked Blake’s vital signs and forced an eyelid open. Then, turning to Mrs. Buchanan and Lexie, he said, “Well, his blood pressure’s low but not dangerously low; his pulse and respirations are slightly elevated but that’s not concerning; what concerns me is that he’s sleeping so soundly and hasn’t spoken, yet.” He frowned. “We need to wake him up.”
He began talking loudly to Blake, moving his head with his hands and lightly slapping his cheeks. He said, “Until we hear him speak, we can’t be certain there hasn’t been brain damage.”
What horror his words sent through me! Our brilliant boy wonder! I can’t stand to think that Blake could have brain damage! While everyone talked at once, Mrs. Buchanan said, “Please, everyone, just keep praying.” She seems brave, but like Lexie her face and eyes are swollen with tears. We all want to trust God and believe Blake will be fine but I can see the struggle in everyone’s eyes.
Marcus came in and said that Mrs. Wasserman was thoroughly revived—she rescued Blake but is back to her normal self. If only Blake would come to and be his normal self!
Cecily got word of what happened. She came in and asked if she could pray over Blake. I love how Cecily prays. She makes us all feel stronger because she has such strong faith. She has a smooth, silky voice, and she comes before the Lord as comfortably as breathing. We circled the bed and laid our hands on Blake or whoever was closest. I had one hand on Mrs. Buchanan’s arm and the other on Lexie’s.
Cecily prayed, “Father, in the mighty name of Jesus, we come before you on behalf of our brother Blake. He is my brother but he is also a son, and a big brother, and a-a-boyfriend,” she said. “Lord, you are the God who heals us; according to Isaiah 9, you take away all our diseases; according to Malachi 4, you have healing in your wings!”
“We ask, in your mighty Name, to touch Blake with that healing power; bring restoration to every cell in his body, Lord; we bless him right now in the powerful Name of Jesus. And Lord, we ask you to restore him to complete wellness. Thank you for your power. Thank you that you accept us before your throne because of Jesus and what he did on the cross. Thank you that nothing is impossible for you. That no illness, no sickness, no poison, is stronger than your healing power!”
She said a lot more but that’s the best I can do at remembering it all. Lexie prayed also, but cried, and I think it tore us all up.
Mr. Clepps had stood aside respectfully during the prayers but now he came forward and continued trying to wake Blake—and then, miracle of miracles! Blake came to!
Everyone tried to talk to him at once but Mr. Clepps raised a hand and said, “C’mon, now, stay back, please.” He turned to the patient. “Blake,” he said, in a strong voice, “How’re you feeling, son?”
The young man blinked. “Not good.”
“Do you know what happened to you?”
He nodded. “I think so.” His voice was weak. Lexie couldn’t stand it and went and sat on the bed and took Blake’s hand. His seemed limp, but then he gave hers a light squeeze.
Mr. Clepps nodded at us as though to say, “This is good.” He then asked, “What’s two plus two?”
“Four,” Blake said, and tried to smile. We all chuckled because Blake is such a brain.
He asked a few other questions, such as, “Where’d you get hurt? Can you remember?” When Blake answered correctly, though weakly, Mr. Clepps asked, “Can you sit up, son?” Blake tried to sit up but fell back exhausted, closing his eyes.
“Should we help him sit up?” Mr. Buchanan asked.
Mr. Clepps turned with a frown. “No. Let him rest. I think he’ll be okay. I wish I could administer oxygen but all we can do is let him rest. He’s not bouncing back the way I’d expect him to but I’ll come and check him in another hour.”
Mrs. Buchanan, like Lexi
e, seemed glued in place, and was staring steadily at Blake as if wishing him back to health. I saw her reach for Lexie’s free hand. It looked right, somehow. Mother and future daughter-in-law in mutual concern for Blake, were uniting like family should.
I am so relieved that it looks like Blake has escaped serious damage—at least, no brain damage! I couldn’t imagine Blake not being his usual science-geeky self. And he’s been such a help to this compound! All I can say is, Thank you, Lord, for sparing his life. And now please, bring him back to full health! We need Blake.
chapter 40
ANDREA
At breakfast this morning Mr. Clepps said Blake had slept for fifteen hours and was still groggy. Not good. Then, motioning to Roper, he came over to us.
“Jared’s awake and asking to see you.”
“Me?” Roper was surprised.
“Yes. Look, he’s not doing well. He was delirious last night. And he’s weak from blood loss.”
Roper nodded. “Okay.” He pushed away his bowl of oatmeal and blueberries.
“If you’re going, I’m going with you,” I said. I looked at Mrs. Martin. “Would you mind feeding Lily? She’s almost finished.” She nodded and came and took my seat.
Lily wailed and raised her arms and stared at me, saying, “Ma-ma! Want Ma-ma!”
“I’m not Mama!” I cried, gritting my teeth. “I’ll be right back!”
Roper gave me a look of sympathy as I took his hand. He knows I dislike that Lily thinks I’m Mom. It still creeps me out.
As we approached sickbay, Mr. Clepps said, “Andrea, you’ll have to wait outside the room.” I was okay with that because I wasn’t sure I wanted to see Jared after he’d lost an arm. But I felt protective of Roper and needed to know what Jared would say to him, so I hoped I’d be able to listen.
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