by B. D. Lutz
“Take the doctor to where he’s needed most.”
Sabrina grabbed the doctor by his arm and rushed him down a hallway. Jackson glanced around the room, searching for his brothers.
Durrell found Jackson’s worried eyes and said, “Follow Sabrina. She’ll take you to Otto and Stone. Then get back here. We need help. And bring Stone with you.”
Randy hot on his heels, Jackson traversed the narrow hall. His search ended as the sounds of bickering voices pulled his attention to a room at the end of the hallway.
“Well, sounds like we found him and Lisa,” Randy said over Jackson’s shoulder.
A smile broke on Jackson’s face. “Putting them in the same room wasn’t Sabrina’s best move.”
As they inched closer, McCune’s voice, similar to Jackson’s father being asked, “Are we there yet,” one too many times, rose above the others. “I will determine which of you sustained the worst injury. At that point, I will take the appropriate action to fix this shit, as you so eloquently articulated, Mister Hammer.”
Stone’s voice followed McCune’s. “Otto, Lisa, let the doctor work. Seriously, your competition to prove yourselves the best martyr ever is annoying.”
Jackson’s smile grew. Judging by Stone’s statement, the two were as ornery as ever. More importantly, they were alive.
His gut clenched as he entered the room and found his brother bare-chested and covered in blood from his waist down. McCune was hovering over him, examining a ragged gash on Otto’s side. The doctor pressed on the area around the wound, causing Otto’s left arm to shoot into the air, exposing a stark-white bandage soaked deep red down the middle.
Jackson and Stone moved as one to intercept their brother’s attack on the doctor, but Sabrina cut them off. “Get out, now. We’ve got this under control. That’s the third time he’s done that; he’s not going to hit anyone. He’s just a little soft when it comes to pain.”
“Yeah, on your way, boys, your brother’s a sissy. Nothing to see here,” Lisa snipped from her bed.
Attention drawn to Lisa, the brothers noticed her damaged shoulder for the first time. Her color was awful, ghost-like, and her eyelids appeared to be losing the battle against gravity.
Jackson’s head went back and forth between the two. Gulping air, he said, “Lisa needs to be first with… whatever it is you’re doing, do it to her first.”
“Nice, Jackson….” Otto spat before being cut off.
“Thank you, sir. I’ll take your proposal under consideration. But for now, please follow Sabrina’s direction and vacate the room,” McCune said calmly but with enough force to pull Jackson’s attention away from Otto.
Stone grasped Jackson’s forearm and pulled him from the room. In the hall, they found a pallid, sweaty Randy leaning against the wall. “Is he… um, are they going to live?”
“You look worse than they do, Randy. You going to make it?”
“So much blood, and the doctor pushing around his side. But when I saw Lisa’s shoulder, I got a bit woozy. I’m better now.” After a long pause, Randy continued, “I think I need to sit down.”
Stone and Jackson grabbed hold of Randy as McCune ordered Sabrina to prep for surgery.
Chapter 27 – Deep Cuts
“Whoa! Prep for surgery? I’m thinking a few stitches, and I’m on my way. Maybe a transfusion. Add in six or seven days of bed rest. But surgery seems a little… drastic. Actually, a lot drastic.”
I couldn’t be certain, but McCune may have rolled his eyes before responding, “Mister Hammer, you will not require surgery. Although quite bloody, the injury itself is moderately superficial. The weapon missed any vital areas as it sliced through your love handles. You’re a lucky man.”
“Love handles?” My statement was barely audible over Lisa’s cackling laughter. “Where’d you get your medical degree? I took a lot of damage, Doc. I mean, how do you explain the passing out, all the blood, or my disorientation?”
“Mister Hammer, as I stated, you lost a great deal of blood. That fact, coupled with your age and physical exertion, are the contributing factors to the symptoms you experienced. So I’m taking your brother’s advice and working on Lisa first. We’ll suture and bandage your wound and get back to you.”
Lisa, though weak and whiter than the bedsheets she laid upon, was crying from laughter. She attempted to speak but only snorted through her hysterics.
“Why are you laughing, Lisa?” I snapped. “You’re about to get cut, deep, by a person you’ve never met. Are you sure he’s even a doctor?”
Sabrina, watching the exchange, quickly interjected, “Otto Hammer, why on earth would you say that?”
“Well, Sabrina, she started it.”
With a shake of her head, she dismissed my defense as she wheeled a cart full of sharp medical instruments to Lisa’s bedside.
Lisa went quiet at the sight of the IV bag, or more accurately, the needle.
“Hey,” I began, “when did we get IV stuff? Are you going to operate on her while she’s awake?” My statement caused Lisa to go a shade whiter.
“Never thought about that, did ya, Lisa? They’ll probably give you some whiskey and a block of wood to bite on. It’s how they did it in the Old West.”
McCune moved between Lisa and me. He bent down and whispered in my ear, “If you don’t stop, I’ll use a rusty ten-penny nail to suture your wound.” Pivoting to Lisa before I could respond, he continued, “Lisa, please ignore Otto. He’s lost a lot of blood and, as a result, his cognitive abilities are suffering. You will be sedated for the procedure, with a proper anesthetic administered by a trained professional.” A smile as warm as the sun creased his features. “You’re in capable hands. We’re going to ensure no bullet fragments remain, then we’ll repair that clavicle. You’re a lucky young lady. A few inches lower, and this conversation would have been much more complicated.”
McCune spun and locked me in a challenging stare. Message received. I kept my mouth shut.
Craning my neck to get eyes on Lisa, I found a warrior staring stoically back at me as Sabrina slid the catheter needle into her forearm. “Hey, you got this. The doctor passed my test. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Lisa tilted her head and had time to smile before the medicine worked its magic.
***
With Stone and Jackson’s help, Sabrina moved me to another room before beginning Lisa’s surgery. The topical pain killer she administered took the edge off, but by no means had my pain fully subsided. While I enlightened everyone as to my level of pain, Stone, unceremoniously, deposited me on a freshly made, single-sized bed.
“What the hell! Are you trying to kill me? They need some gurneys in this place. Or, at a minimum, competent orderlies.”
Stone, face palming, answered, “The doctor said you’ll live. Actually, he said, your wound is moderately superficial. Thank God for your love handles. And, if you paid attention, they have gurneys. They reserve them for the serious patients. Not their patients with superficial injuries.”
Air pumped through my flared nostrils as I locked Stone in a withering stare. The mother of all retorts perched on the tip of my tongue when a feminine voice broke through. “Otto Hammer, I should… how could you… why did you do that?” Darline stammered, voice vacillating between anger and relief.
My epic response to Stone vanished at the sight of my wife. Her eyes, filled with concern, pierced mine. She pushed past my brothers and knelt at my side. Her eyes getting watery, she tilted her head as a single tear raced down her cheek.
“I’m using every ounce of energy to stop myself from beating you unconscious, Otto Hammer.” The sincerity in her words was off-putting and caused me to cover my face in case she lost her battle with self-control.
“It’s good to see you too, babe,” I said from behind my forearms. “I have to say, I’m feeling the love of my family right now. It’s a warm, glowing love which fills me with joy.”
Risking a peek from behind my protective barrier,
I found her smiling face. I reached out and pulled her into an embrace. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, “It just happened. I saw Devon’s blood…” I stopped cold. “Where’s Devon?”
Metal clanging on metal broke my thought as Durrell pushed a medical cart into the crowded room. “Devon’s fine. Scared to death, sporting five stitches and an eye that has swollen shut, but all told, he’s good. His aunt is with him until we can get Tesha here.”
Stone stepped from the room while talking over his shoulder. “She’s at the east gate. I’ll go get her.”
“How’d she do?”
Stone stopped at the threshold and turned to face me. “She’s a natural. Had a slight issue with a double feed but worked through it while keeping her head in the fight.”
“Who cleaned her gun?” I barked. “A clean gun is a reliable gun. If those shit-balls on the gun-cleaning team screwed this up… well, let’s just say I’ll be paying them a visit!”
“Relax, Otto. It was her husband’s gun; she doesn’t let anyone touch it. It was just one of those things.” With that, he vanished into the hallway.
Darline’s eyes went wide. I followed her stare to Durrell’s cart. He had removed a white cloth which had been concealing its contents. The reason for Darline’s reaction quickly came into focus.
Durrell was preparing to suture my wound, and his tray was crammed with what I can only describe as medieval torture devices.
His chuckle drew my attention to his smiling face. It was not a warm or friendly smile. It was the smile of a torturer who enjoys his work. “Mister Hammer, are you ready?” he asked as he held a large syringe with a blue ball where the plunger should have been. “We’re going to start by irrigating that nasty little wound of yours. Gotta keep it from getting infected.”
Darline, understanding what was happening in my brain after I noticed the needles, quickly leaned in and kissed my forehead. “I’m going down the hall, maybe check in on Devon, clean up some UC, anything but witness what’s about to happen.” Then, she whispered, “Please behave. He’s trying to help.”
As my wife led Randy and Jackson from the room, Durrell moved into position. Smile a bit more twisted, he said, “Tell me, Otto. Do you remember that time I asked to borrow a quarter-inch socket wrench because mine had broken in the middle of working on my car’s alternator?”
I shook my head because I honestly didn’t remember.
“Ah, well, let me refresh you. It was roughly one hundred degrees that day. I had worked a double shift when my car died on the way home. Actually, at the end of the street. I mean, I could see my house, but my car wouldn’t move another inch. Randy drove by, offered me a ride to Auto Zone then to my house, so I could change and get my tools. He couldn’t stay to help because he was picking Nila up from work. Randy sure is a nice guy.” He paused, making a show of filling the syringe with pure rubbing alcohol.
“Yeah, that was one miserable day. Hot and humid, so humid that my knuckles were bloody from slipping off of my wrench. That’s how the driver ended up damaged. The third time I slammed my knuckles on the alternator’s bracket, I smashed it on the pavement. It wouldn’t lock after that.”
“Sounds like you owned some cheap tools,” I blurted out in a feeble attempt at lightening the mood.
Durrell’s head cocked to the side. “It belonged to my dad, passed down from my grandfather.”
“Oh, well then, it was probably old and fragile.” I was flailing.
“Old yes, fragile, not so much. Anyway, I saw you mowing your lawn. Moseyed on down to ask a neighbor for help, actually, not even help, just a tool… to simply borrow a tool. Do you know what you said?”
I knew what I’d said. I didn’t remember him asking, but I knew what my answer was.
“No. Just no. Not hey, I don’t have one or can’t let you borrow it, but I’ll help. Nope, you just said no. At that moment, I understood why people think you’re a jerk, Otto.”
“This is going to hurt, isn’t it?” I asked as he moved in with the syringe.
“Oh, it’s going to hurt so much. Although not nearly as bad as the stitches. Seems I misplaced my curved suturing needle. I’ll be using a sewing needle for this one.” He chuckled, then plunged the irrigator into my side and forced the alcohol into my body.
Darline burst into the room, drawn by my anguished cries for help. The urgency left her body as she realized I wasn’t dying. Sweat poured down my face while Durrell exacted his revenge. I struggled to remain still as the needle made its first pass through my skin. Darline went pale, pivoted, and left the room as quickly as she’d entered.
“I’m not good with needles. Durrell, can’t you spray some of that topical stuff on it, like Sabrina did?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Otto. Is this uncomfortable? I wonder if the beating my knuckles took that day damaged some nerves, making my hands unsteady.”
“Come on, man. That was a long time ago. Hell, I don’t even remember you asking. Plus, you said it yourself. Everyone thinks I’m a jerk. You should have known I wouldn’t let you borrow my tools. I don’t let anyone borrow my tools, not even Darline.”
Defending my actions only egged him on. He held up his hand holding the needle for my viewing pleasure and made sure I saw it trembling as it disappeared from sight, headed for my side.
After what felt like two hours, he knotted and snipped. “All finished, Mister Hammer. Please be sure to leave positive feedback when you complete our customer satisfaction survey.”
He pushed back from my bedside while removing his gloves as Sabrina entered the room. “Prep for surgery, Durrell; we’re getting overwhelmed.”
Durrell grabbed an IV bag, flipped my hand palm down, and jabbed a pencil-sized needle into the first vein he saw. Taking a more serious tone, he said, “I’m giving you antibiotics. You’re going to be here a while. Get comfortable.” He rushed from the room.
Chapter 28 – Pull the Trigger
The drone’s video feed showed a world unlike any Willis had imagined possible. San Francisco appeared a wasteland. Smoke billowed from flame-engulfed buildings as trash mingled with the dead on the streets of the once beautiful city. Landmarks which, a few short months ago topped his bucket list of places to visit, stood in ruins.
The RQ-4 drone banked hard toward San Francisco Bay, crossing mere feet over the Oakland Bay Bridge. Gridlocked cars sat abandoned on the monstrous structure’s deck, the bloody remnants of their former occupants revealed as thousands of enraged scavenger birds took flight when the drone interrupted their feeding frenzy.
Its flight path took it up the coast as it scouted for enemy landing parties that may have split from the main DPRK force. It found only death and broadcast those images to Fort Riley’s TOC.
The TOC went still as battle-hardened soldiers stared in disbelief at the carnage. Suddenly, the image fluttered before being replaced by video of a small city surrounded by a desert landscape.
A voice broadcast over the TOC’s speakers clarified what they were seeing as the drone’s camera zoomed in. “This is Wendover, Utah, bordering Nevada in the Great Salt Lake Desert. During the mission, one of our C130s experienced a malfunction with its antidote delivery system over Alameda. During its flight to refuel at Hill Air Force Base, the malfunction corrected and released hundreds of gallons of the antidote over Wendover. The results are obvious.”
The video feed showed a confused population as dozens of people wandered the streets aimlessly. Suddenly, the video seemed to magnify, bringing the images into sharper focus.
The video locked onto a small group in tattered clothing, heading toward a small flat-roofed structure roughly three hundred yards south of Interstate 80.
“This city was void of life less than forty-eight hours ago. Obviously, that is no longer the case.”
McMaster, standing between his son and Willis, whispered, “Get ready, boys. You’re about to go weapons hot.” Both men nodded their agreement with the elder McMaster’s statement.
The voice
of Chairman Mallet again filled the TOC. “Infrared scans indicate we have living humans in this city. Ones, which only days ago, were UCs.” After an effectual pause, Mallet continued, “We plan to make contact with these people, determine if they are free of the virus, and extract them if they are. Eight hours have passed since we dispersed the antidote on Wendover. We have not witnessed the violent reaction befalling North Korea’s invasion force. Ladies and gentlemen, these people may hold the answer to crush the virus.”
The room bristled with excitement, sweeping everyone into the moment.
“Colonel Stein, assemble an expeditionary force. You will make contact ASAP. Questions?”
Stein visually surveyed the room. Met with grim determination, he responded, “The Big Red One is clear. We will have boots on the ground in three hours.”
Obviously smiling as he spoke, Mallet said, “That’s why we called the Big Red One. Godspeed, soldiers.”
McMaster was barking orders the instant the broadcast ended. “Willis, Nathan, kit-up. Be battle ready in ten.”
The men were moving before McMaster finished, Willis trailing Nathan as they headed for the armory.
“What’s our force strength?” Willis asked while at a full run.
“I’m thinking a six-person fire-team, but I’m confident Sergeant Major has other plans. Whatever they are, you can trust him. His instincts are solid.”
Struggling to keep pace with Nathan, Willis huffed through his response. “I’ve been in his office and seen the citations. Enough said.”
Nathan and Willis, in full battle-rattle, burst through the door of the TOC exactly ten minutes later. They found Sergeant Major McMaster engaged in a hushed conversation with Colonel Stein, its seriousness telegraphed by the hard stare McMaster had the younger but higher-ranking Stein locked in.
When the colonel finally smiled and shook his head, Nathan leaned in close to Willis and whispered, “Sergeant Major McMaster just won whatever argument they were having.”