by Ray Gorham
“I’m exhausted. Can I go to sleep?” Heather asked.
“How are you feeling?” Carol asked, still focused on taking care of Heather and wearing a worried expression.
“Just really tired. Why?”
“Jennifer, I need you,” Carol said, her tone tense.
Jennifer moved down by Carol and noticed the placenta floating in the bowl in several inches of blood.
“Go get me another bowl,” Carol whispered. “Quick!”
Jennifer hurried into the kitchen.
Heather rose up on her elbows. “Something wrong?”
“You’re bleeding more than you should. How do you feel?”
“Just tired, like I said, and weak. I just had my first baby, you know.”
Jennifer returned from the kitchen, handing the bowl to Carol. “What now?” she asked, the color draining from her face.
“I want both of you to massage her abdomen,” Carol said, motioning to Jennifer and Jane. “Push pretty hard. Heather, your uterus hasn’t meshed back together. You’re losing quite a bit of blood. This might hurt a little.”
Jennifer saw fear darken Heather’s eyes.
“What’s happening?” Heather asked, her voice rising.
“We’ve got to stop the bleeding. Try to relax.”
Jennifer and Jane pressed on Heather’s abdomen. It was soft and pliable, having lost most of its muscle tone during the pregnancy. Heather grunted in discomfort.
“That hurts,” Heather whimpered, visibly worried.
“I don’t care. Keep doing it!” Carol demanded. “There’s still too much blood. Heather, try and tense your abdomen. Do keggles, something. Try to somehow tighten up your internal muscles.”
Heather grunted and strained, trying to help, but the blood flowed unabated.
“What do we do?” Jane mouthed as she continued to knead Heather’s stomach, watching the bowl fill with blood.
Carol shook her head and looked around the room. “I don’t know.” Panic filled her voice. “Someone give her a drink of water!”
Jennifer grabbed a cup and helped Heather drink as Jane took the baby and laid her on the box spring beside her mother.
“I feel dizzy…like the room is starting to spin,” Heather announced. “What’s happening?!”
Jennifer and Jane looked anxiously at Carol. “Keep pressing on her,” Carol insisted. “You’re losing too much blood, Heather. I can’t get it stopped.”
“You’re the doctor! Help me!”
“I’m trying,” Carol snapped back. “But I don’t know what else to do. I don’t have any drugs to give you or IVs or anything.” She raised her hand for the massaging to stop, then leaned forward and pushed her hand up into Heather’s uterus.
Heather screamed. “That hurts,” she cried, twisting sharply on the bed.
Carol probed inside the patient. She’d never done anything like this to a human before, but she’d had her arms in plenty of animals and knew what healthy tissue felt like. She quickly felt along the wall of the uterus. The first side she checked felt healthy and strong, but as she slid her hand to the other side, she felt a jagged ridge and a cleft about an inch wide and several inches long.
Heather cried out as Carol probed the tear in her uterine wall.
Carol tried to pinch the two sides of the wound together, but there was nothing solid to grasp, and the flesh slipped from her grip. Blood ran over her fingers like a faucet opened halfway as she continued trying to close the gash, an impossible task with no surgical tools.
Heather was crying and flexing her hands. “My fingers are tingling. Can’t you help me?”
Carol pulled her hand out and a gush of blood followed. She caught most of it with the bowl, the rest splashing onto the shower liner stretched over the floor. She picked up a rag lying nearby and wiped at the blood.
“What can we do?” Jennifer asked, leaning forward to resume massaging.
“You’re going to be alright,” Carol said, taking a deep breath and trying to smile. “Jane, why don’t you hand Heather her baby. That will help her relax and slow the blood flow.” She looked at Heather, who was glassy-eyed and tugging on her blanket. “You hold Madison. She needs to be with her mother.”
“Oh, thank heavens,” Jennifer said, relieved. “I was really worried there for a minute.” She smiled at Heather and dabbed some sweat from her forehead before turning back towards Carol, who was still catching the blood draining from Heather and looking scared.
“I need another bowl,” Carol whispered calmly. “Can you get that, please, Jennifer?”
Jennifer stood, her legs shaky, and ran to the kitchen. She found an old ice cream bucket and hurried back to where Heather lay.
She handed it to Carol, who looked pale and worn out. “Can I get you anything else?” Jennifer whispered.
“A miracle,” Carol whispered as she shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes.
“I’m cold,” Heather said, rubbing her baby’s back with one hand while flexing her other hand in front of her face. “Am I going to be alright?”
The room was still well over eighty degrees, but Jennifer found a blanket and draped it across Heather. “You have a beautiful baby,” she said, forcing a smile. “You did so good tonight.”
Heather smiled feebly. Her pale lips blended into her ghostly white face. “She is beautiful, isn’t she?” She saw something in Jennifer’s expression. “Am I okay? I feel so cold…so tired.”
Jennifer knelt down and kissed her forehead. “You’re a new mother. You’re perfect. Now just relax. Get some rest.”
Heather looked over at Jane, whose cheeks were streaked with tears. “Thanks for helping us today. You’re like a mother to me.”
Jane patted her hand. “And you, like a daughter to me. Just close your eyes and rest.”
Heather smiled, kissed Madison on the cheek, and closed her eyes as Carol blew out the two flickering candles on the table beside her.
CHAPTER 32
Tuesday, February 7th
Deer Creek, MT
Kyle whistled. He wasn’t good with lyrics, but he could whistle a tune, and it helped pass the time and fill the silence as he rode. Garfield had grown accustomed to his whistling now and no longer jumped at the sound. Considering the horse’s age, Kyle wondered if Garfield could jump at much of anything anymore.
That he had a horse was something to be grateful for, despite the fact that Garfield was old, worn down, and not too far removed from the glue factory. But had his route not followed the river most of the way, Kyle wasn’t sure how well having a horse would have worked out, with Garfield’s constant need to stop for water. Whether that was a Garfield thing or a characteristic of horses in general, Kyle, the inexperienced horseman, wasn’t sure. He thought back to traveling through Texas, when he went days without a water source beyond the jugs in his wagon. A camel might have worked, he mused, but he was sure a horse wouldn’t have lasted more than forty-eight hours.
A pheasant spooked from some bushes on the near side of the road, and Kyle quickly reached for his shotgun. Before he could get it aimed, the bird had disappeared into the trees, and Kyle reluctantly holstered the weapon.
A thin layer of fresh snow that was sure to melt before noon covered the ground, and Kyle scanned ahead for any signs of geese or pheasant that might supplement his dwindling food supply. A few yards ahead he saw what looked like a set of human footprints trailing across the road.
“Whoa, Garfield,” he said, pulling back on the reins. He surveyed the area, spotting a thin wisp of smoke rising from somewhere further up the side of the mountain. Kyle reached for his shotgun but was stopped by a voice from the west side of the road.
“Raise your hands above your head!” the voice commanded.
Kyle looked for the source, his head twisting side to side.
“You understand English? I said raise your hands!”
Kyle slowly raised his hands. “I haven’t done anything,” he called back, hands up. “J
ust let me go on my way.”
“Keep your hands above your head. There are three guns aimed at you. If you do anything sudden or unexpected, it will be the last thing you do. Understand?”
Kyle’s heart raced and his hands shook a little. So far he hadn’t sensed life and death desperation in the people he’d met. Yes, they were scared and hungry, but in this part of the country the population was thin, water was abundant, farms and ranches dotted the valleys, and wildlife was everywhere. He’d seen quite a few fresh graves, some at cemeteries, but most of them close to houses or farms, so he knew that the area hadn’t escaped the impact of the EMP. Still, there wasn’t that deep desperation he’d seen in so many other areas. “What do you want?” Kyle called out.
“I’ll do the interrogating here, if you don’t mind.” A tall, skinny man stepped from behind a stand of trees, their thick trunks concealing him until now. His military-style weapon was pressed tight to his shoulder, ready to fire. “Why don’t you get down off that horse so we can talk, eye to eye.”
Kyle eyed the stranger nervously. “How do I know I’ll be safe?”
“I could ask you the same question, and seeing as you wandered into my territory, I think I have first right to find out what you’re up to. Capisce?”
Kyle took a deep breath and climbed down. “I’m just passing through. No intention to cause any trouble,” he said as he dismounted. He stepped away from the horse with his hands still above his head.
Two more figures slipped from the woods and took up positions near Kyle, rifles ready. “What’s your name?” the first man asked.
“Kyle Tait. I’m from Deer Creek, just a little east of Missoula.”
“Little far from home, aren’t you?”
Kyle nodded.
“Get lost on your way home from church?” The others laughed, but didn’t comment.
“It’s not Sunday, is it?”
“Not. It’s not Sunday. What are you doing here?”
“I’m going up to check on my parents. They live in Moyie Springs.”
“You waited five months, then left home at the end of January to check on your folks two hundred miles away? You take me for a fool?”
“No, I don’t. There’s a little more to the story than that, but that’s the short version.”
“You running away from problems? Kill someone or something?”
“I was accused of something I didn’t do, but couldn’t prove it. It was leave town or be killed. I chose to leave.”
The man stared at him for a long time before responding. “What are you doing off the highway on this road? We don’t like outsiders much, that’s why we’re here.”
Kyle heard a noise near his horse and saw that one of the other men had approached Garfield and was inspecting the load. “I come this way a lot, well, not this road, but the highway. My GPS took me this way once and dead-ended me at the river. Since I’m on horseback, I thought I’d save a couple of miles and cross the river with my horse. I’m hoping to get to Moyie by Saturday.”
The man lowered his gun, but kept it aimed at Kyle. “It’s dangerous out here, you know.”
Kyle nodded. “I’ve had my share of run-ins. You don’t need to tell me that.”
“The problem we have is if you’re a bad guy, and we let you go, it’s like we’re linked to whatever you do.”
“But if I’m not,” Kyle said. “And you do something to me, then you’re directly responsible for that.”
“But no one will ever know about it if we do, will they?” the man replied, his voice carrying a calm indifference that unnerved Kyle.
“No,” Kyle said, pausing. “I guess they won’t. I suppose I’m at your mercy, aren’t I?”
“Search his stuff,” Kyle’s interrogator instructed one of the other men. “See if there’s anything that indicates a problem.” The man motioned Kyle over to the side of the road and gave him a push. Another man followed at a distance while the third went through Kyle’s bags.
“Looking for anything in particular?” Kyle asked, watching the search.
The man beside him shrugged. “It’s hard to say, but you know it when you see it. Had a couple of guys come through here with an unusually large amount of women’s jewelry, some of it with blood on it. That wasn’t right.”
“What did you do with them?”
“The man thought a second. “Did you know that pigs will eat just about anything?”
“That sounds like a confession, and a threat.”
“You can take it how you want. Let’s just say that those two won’t be bothering anyone else.”
“So you just sit out here on the side of the road and execute the people you think are a danger to society?”
The man gave Kyle a dismissive look. “There is no society right now, friend. And what would you have us do when we find scum like that? The thing that makes society possible is for civilized people to live without fear of dirt like that. We’re safe. Got us a nice compound and just need access to the river down here. Otherwise, we’re pretty independent. But others around here aren’t as prepared. The least we can do is cull some of the riffraff who make life difficult for peaceful folk.” The man shot a thick stream of tobacco juice onto the ground near his feet. “You getting nervous?”
“No more nervous,” Kyle said, “than I have been every minute of every day since the country went down the toilet. As long as your friend there isn’t scared by a little bit of food and some dirty underwear, I should be on my way in a few minutes.”
The man stepped close to Kyle, his face just inches away, breathing his tobacco-laced breath directly in Kyle’s eyes. “You think we’re wrong to do this, don’t you?”
The man at the horse was opening Kyle’s clothing bag. Kyle bit his lower lip and cocked his head to the side. “You know what? I have no idea what to think anymore. I was put on trial and convicted for something I didn’t do, but I’m not mad at them for doing it. They’re all just as scared as I am, trying to survive from one day to the next with nobody else to rely on to do the difficult things.” He shook his head. “I guess we all just do what we can, and hope for the best. It’s not like the authorities can do much right now.”
The skinny man looked at Kyle, a poorly concealed smirk on his face. “You think the authorities are going to help you?” He let out a grunt. “Don’t get me started.” He turned to look at the man by Garfield and yelled. “We don’t have all day, Wyatt. You see anything wrong?”
Kyle turned too.
The man shrugged his shoulders and held out his hands. “Seems clean. I don’t see anything suspicious.”
“Well then,” the skinny man said as he lowered his gun. “Looks like you’re free to go. Sorry for the delay, but we just can’t be too careful. Good luck with the rest of your trip, and I suggest you stay off the back roads.”
Kyle walked the short distance back to Garfield, patted him on the neck, then climbed into the saddle.
The three men stood ready at the edge of the road, watching him closely.
Kyle smiled and nodded, his pulse starting to slow. “Thanks for being reasonable,” he said, then spurred Garfield and continued down the road.
CHAPTER 33
Wednesday, February 8th
Deer Creek, MT
Jennifer never imagined that the death of someone she’d known for only twelve hours could impact her so much, but losing Heather, after spending such an intense evening together, had left everyone numb and heartbroken. Jane and Gordon had finally gone to sleep in the basement while Carol tossed and turned on the couch for most of the night. Jennifer paced the floor in the kitchen after a sleepless night of holding the baby, who was acting hungry once again.
Heather’s body, covered with a blanket, lay on the living room floor in much the same position she had been when she passed. The women had helped Madison nurse a second time while Heather was unconscious but still had a faint pulse, but that had been four hours before. Despite Carol’s best efforts, Heather’s heart
had stopped shortly after that, and now the young mother’s body was cold and lifeless.
Jennifer heard a sound in the living room and saw Carol sitting up on the couch. She stepped around the corner and gave her friend a reassuring smile. “So, what do we do now?”
Carol glanced down at the body, closed her swollen and bloodshot eyes, and tried to rub some of the tired away. “I Couldn’t even save her in my dreams. I feel like I’ve been run through a meat grinder.”
Madison screeched, and Carol looked at the baby, then up at Jennifer. “Holding her didn’t bring any milk down, did it?”
Jennifer shook her head wearily from side to side, and smiled tenderly at the baby she bounced in her arms. “No such luck, and she’s not happy right now. She wants to eat.”
“Jane told me there are no nursing mothers in Clinton, so we need to go visit Allison Powell. She’s the only one I know who’s nursing. She was just starting to wean her baby when the EMP hit, but changed her mind when she realized she wouldn’t be able to get any formula or baby food. I think her son is about fourteen months now, but he still nurses.” Carol glanced down at Heather’s sheet-covered body, then back up at Jennifer. “We can try cow’s milk if we have to, but for Madison’s sake, I pray Allison will nurse her for a few weeks, hopefully longer.”
Jennifer avoided looking at the corpse. “I forgot all about Allison. She doesn’t come out to meetings much, so she slipped my mind. I’d already thought about sending David to the ranch for some milk. While he’s doing that, I’ll go find Allison and see what she says.”
Carol rocked the baby while Jennifer woke David and gave him instructions, then got dressed to go out. Once David was on his way to the Shipley Ranch, Jennifer wrapped Madison in a blanket and hurried off to the Powells.
The house the Powells lived in was one of the older ones in Deer Creek and wasn’t technically in the subdivision, but rather on one of the lots that had existed before Bryan Shipley had pieced off a portion of his ranch to create the Deer Creek community. Being outside of the subdivision, the lot didn’t have the same restrictions that would have prohibited the older doublewide trailer the Powells lived in, as well as the junky old cars parked around the side of the house that always drew complaints.