by A. American
“There’s no hope for her?” Mel asked.
Chris took a small penlight from his pocket and held the child’s right eye open. Shinning the light into the eye, he replied, “No. See, the pupil doesn’t react at all. She’s brain dead and will probably pass today or tomorrow.”
“Where are her parents?”
As he stood up, he replied, “No idea. She came in alone. A lot of kids came in alone.”
Jess worked with a young man. The two were changing the dressing on a young man’s leg. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen. His left leg was missing above the knee. Once the bandage was removed, Jess looked at the wound.
The amputation had been closed, but it wasn’t a clean job. The sutures looked rough with flaps of skin pulled over in an almost haphazard manner and stitched together. As the EMT worked to clean the wound before applying the new dressing, Jess looked at the young man lying on the canvas cot. He made no complaints, verbal or physical. He just lay there and stared at Jess. She smiled and asked, “What’s your name?”
“Robert,” he replied without emotion.
Glancing back at the leg, Jess said, “You’re going to be fine. Looks like it’s going to heal well.”
“No, I’m not. I don’t have a leg. I had a football scholarship. I was going to go to the NFL.” He turned his attention to the rafters of the gym. “Then all this happened. The world ended, and I’ll be a cripple for the rest of my life.”
“The world hasn’t ended,” Jess tried to assure him. “Sure, it’s changed. Different from what it once was. But we’re all still here and life goes on.”
Still staring at the ceiling, he replied, “That’s easy for you to say. You still have both legs.” Then he turned his face away and didn’t speak again.
They finished the job and moved to the next patient. As they walked, Jess asked, “How can you do this every day?”
The young man didn’t hesitate in his reply, “Someone has to. And I have the skills to make a difference. Besides, what else would I be doing? I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I were at home while these people suffered. Here, I can make a difference.”
They stepped over to another cot where an aged man sat fanning an equally elderly woman with a piece of cardboard. She had several bandages on various parts of her body. When they approached, the man looked up and asked, “Can you help her?”
The young man looked at the woman, then leaned in close to Jess and whispered, “Take him outside. Get him some water or something.”
Looking at the old man, who was still watching them, Jess asked, “Why?”
“His wife is dead.”
It was a long, very long, day for them in the gym.
The battery was dead on the Harley. I checked with a meter to confirm and decided to just jump-start it. I pushed it, with much effort, over to the trailer where the solar system was housed. Mel had the Suburban, so I couldn’t use that; but the solar setup also had twelve-volt batteries, so it would do the job. After hooking up the jumper cables, I stood for a minute looking at the bike. I remembered when Jeff rode up on it. Thinking of him made me smile.
I opened the saddlebag of the right side and looked in. There were two pieces of Bazooka bubble gum in a plastic bag and it brought me back to the day he choked on that massive wad of gum at the end of the road. The look on his face when I dropped my boot on his chest and the image of that wad of gum shooting up into the air. Then the smile faded as the other image from a later time of his lifeless body lying in the road came to me. I slowly unwrapped both pieces of gum and stuffed them into my mouth.
Turning the key on, I hit the start button and the bike rumbled to life. After removing the cables, I tossed them aside and straddled the bike. I worked the throttle, revving the engine for a few seconds. Then, without thinking about it, I dropped the bike into gear and rode it around the house, down the drive and out to the road. Being careful in the loose dirt, I turned the machine and headed down the road towards the bunker.
When I hit the paved part of the road, I opened the bike up and roared past the bunker to the bewilderment of the two men standing there. As I passed the road to Sarge’s place, I saw Mike and Ted walking down the road. Mike shouted something as I raced past them, pushing the beast of a machine even faster, but I didn’t respond. I was thinking of Jeff and was taking a ride, for him.
Slowing to navigate the barricades at the end of the road, I turned onto nineteen and really opened the bike up. It was exhilarating to go so fast and feel the rush of the air, the vibration of the machine beneath me; and I pushed it still faster. When the market in Altoona came into view, which only took a minute or two, I looked at the people gathered there as they passed in a blur. Several of them seemed genuinely surprised at the sight of the machine as it roared by. The same thing happened when I passed the market in Umatilla.
Maybe it was just the machine they were looking at. Maybe it was the speed at which I raced by that caught their attention. But it didn’t matter, and I was enjoying thrill of it all. I did wave at Baker and Terry as I passed them. Baker had a huge smile on her face as I blew by them and Terry was waving wildly, grinning like an ass eating briars. Scott ran out into the road, waving his arms frantically with a look of excitement on his face. He wanted a ride. But I didn’t stop.
But I couldn’t bring myself to go into Eustis and instead, I turned onto forty-four and headed east. I hadn’t been past the farm on this piece of road and as it passed by on my left, I could see Cecil out there working the tractor. He didn’t see me, and I didn’t stop for a chat. Instead, I continued down the road. I was seeing places I hadn’t been to since all this shit started. Even though I was only a mile or two off a track that I traveled all the time.
It struck me how my world had shrunk. In the Before, I would travel anywhere without a thought. I often went to the beach to surf fish, or to Orlando for something or another. A trip which is now unthinkable was undertaken with no more consideration than turning the key in the truck. Such a trip now would be an expedition on par with those undertaken by those that settled this land. But when you considered most folks had to walk everywhere they went, we were essentially in the same place those early settlers were. Actually, they were ahead of us for the most part. Most people back then had horses or mules and could use them to travel on. Such animals were rare today.
My ride took me over to highway 439 where I turned north. I didn’t want to push my luck in going too far. For one, I didn’t check the fuel in the Harley before leaving and two, no one knew where I was. That and the fact I didn’t bring my rifle with me. This entire thing was a little foolhardy, but I was loving it.
So far, I’d seen a few people, though not many. Most of those I saw were engaged in working some small plot of dirt trying to scratch out a living. Everyone was a farmer of one sort or another today. I cruised down this stretch of road, again seeing only a few people. I was surprised to see a couple of people walking down the road. This was a pretty long walk from town, so I had no idea where they were going. They weren’t carrying packs or anything, so they couldn’t be going far.
The two men stepped to the side of the road as I approached, moving into the opposite lane to give them plenty of space as I did. One of the men raised his hand as I passed, and I replied in kind. I thought of stopping and having a chat with them. But as I was only armed with my pistol and there were two of them, the numbers didn’t add up correctly and I kept going.
At forty-two I turned west and headed back towards Altoona. The first part of this stretch is pretty desolate with no houses on it. I was cruising along at a good clip when something on the side of the road caught my eye. The fence line was covered in wild grape vines and I thought I saw a bunch of hanging fruit, so I turned around and slowly rode back, watching the vines as I did.
As I thought, the vine was hanging heavy with fruit and I stopped the bike and got off, intent to fill the saddlebags with as much fruit as I could fit. This was a great find. While Flo
rida is covered with wild grape vines, only about ten percent of them actually bear fruit. And I’d just found one that did, in abundance.
The fence I was picking fruit on was the northern boundary of a large cattle ranch. Or it had been in the Before. I hadn’t thought of the place since the change, and as I filled my hat with clumps of grapes so dark they looked black, I wondered if the place was still in operation. As I pulled grapes from the vine, I looked the land over on the other side of the fence and was struck by something so obvious, I wondered how I hadn’t noticed it immediately. The grass on that side of the fence was short. Like mowed short. Like, mowed by cows short.
On the ranch, a short distance from where I was picking fruit, was a large bay head of mixed trees. There were some cypress, cabbage palms and other trees associated with low, wet lands. I was looking at this area when I saw something move. Standing up, I strained my eyes to see, before remembering I had my binoculars in my vest and took them out. Putting them up to my eyes, I immediately made out a large black angus cow.
In shock, I lowered the optic and stared in disbelief. Now that I’d seen the first cow, I immediately made out others. And they were all headed towards me. In a few short minutes, a heard of fifty or sixty big black cows meandered out of the swamp. I stood in sheer amazement at the sight before me. I thought cows were gone, at least from around here. And yet, here before my very eyes was a herd!
Moments after the cows came into view, two men on horseback emerged from the same swamp. They were the stereotypical cowboys, broad brimmed hats, jeans and boots. They were busy talking, leaned back in their saddles in apparent ease. After a couple minutes of them not noticing me, I called out to them.
The sound of my voice startled the men and they looked for the source as they each drew a rifle from a scabbard on the saddle. While the men took a moment to find me, the horses looked directly at me with their ears perked. I waved to make sure they could see me and stood in the open with my hands clearly visible. Once they finally saw me, the two men talked for a moment before nudging their horses in my direction.
They approached closer but stayed a fair distance from me. I waved again as they drew near. “Damn,” I shouted. “I didn’t think there was a cow anywhere around here now.”
One of them, wearing a white hat, nodded and replied, “We’ve got a few.”
I looked over at the herd again and said, “I haven’t been out this way since the Day. I was just out riding and saw all these grapes here and stopped to pick some.”
His partner was wearing a very wide brimmed black hat. He nudged his horse and rode even closer to me. Cocking his head to the side, he asked, “You the one calling yourself the Sheriff?”
I looked down at the badge and replied, “It wasn’t my idea. Not something I wanted to do. But the job was hung on me and I guess I accepted it.” The man in the white hat came closer as well and took a handheld radio from his belt and spoke into it.
Nodding towards the cows, I said, “You guys have any trouble with folks trying to steal your cows? That used to be a hanging offense.”
The man in the black hat reached behind himself and pulled out a coiled manila rope. Holding it out, he replied, “Still is. Around here anyway.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear you’re taking care of yourselves.”
As I replied, two side by sides came running up. Each had two occupants and when they came to stop, the two men in one of the machines quickly hopped out. They were both armed with rifles and looked at me uneasily. The other machine had carried an older man and a woman.
The older man wore an immaculately clean straw hat, pressed jeans and what looked like a freshly starched shirt. He had the look of man that no longer worked cows. But everything about him said he had for most of his life. The woman with him was probably in her thirties and beautiful. She had long auburn hair and was dressed like the others in jeans, a checked shirt and a cowboy hat. She also wore a nicely tooled leather gun belt around her waist and carried herself with an air of confidence.
The older man walked towards me and I moved down the fence line to a clear spot where we could talk. The woman came with him, not following, but beside him as an equal. When he got to the fence, the man held his hand out and said, “Dave McFarland’s the name. This is my daughter Janet.”
I shook his hand, “Nice to meet you Dave. I’m Morgan.”
A sly smile cut his face and he said, “Oh, I know who you are, Morgan Carter.”
His comment caught me off guard. “How do you know my name?”
“Everyone knows who the Sheriff is,” Janet replied.
I looked at her, “Well, I hope it’s for a good reason. Nice to meet you as well, Janet.”
She tipped her hat and replied, “Pleasure.”
“I have to admit, I was shocked when I saw the cows. I really didn’t think there were any left.”
Dave looked back at the small herd. “That’s only a little piece of them. We have over three hundred head.”
I was dumbfounded, “What?” Was all I could muster.
He smiled. “Used to have a lot more. But we’ve pretty well taken care of the cattle rustlers in these parts.”
“Your man there showed me the rope. I hope you didn’t lose many.”
“So, the Sheriff ain’t got no problem with me hanging rustlers?”
I shook my head. “Hell no. Serves ‘em right. Besides, saves me from having to deal with it had you been so inclined to involve me. I believe folks can and should take care of themselves. The days of the nanny state are over.”
Dave chewed on those words for a minute before looking at his daughter and saying, “You were right.”
Curious, I asked, “In what regard?”
Dave took his hat off and mopped at his bald head with a handkerchief. “That you weren’t some busybody do-gooder out to get into people’s business. Into their lives.”
“No. Me and the deputies with me are here to help people. You need us, we’ll be there. Otherwise, I like a nice quiet life.”
“Hasn’t been much quiet,” Janet chimed in. “We saw what happened to town and heard what you did about it.”
“That wasn’t so much me as it was my military counterparts. They organized that little deal. They handle the military stuff and I try to deal with the civilian stuff.”
“That’s the way it ought to be,” Dave replied. “These military folks, whose side are they on?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Do they still answer to the President?”
I laughed. “No. If you knew these men, you’d know better than that. They answer to the DOD. And me,” I added as an afterthought.
“You?” Janet asked.
“Yeah, their superiors consider me the local civilian authority, and as such, they have to answer to me. But these men are my friends and I leave them to do what needs to be done. If they need my help, I help them. If I need theirs, they stand ready as well.”
“This is sounding better all the time,” Dave said. “But I have one question, who made you the local civilian authority?”
I scratched my head, “Well, there’s the funny part. The military did. It was actually the local commander of the National Guard unit in Eustis that did it. Then the folks higher up the chain of command accepted it as fact. I was never consulted about it. I just stepped in and did what needed doing.”
“Morgan, we’ve stayed out of things to this point. Not really sure who was who or what was what. But now that we’ve talked, and I see you’re not some jackleg looking to be king, we’d like to help out a bit. What can we do to assist with all the wounded folks in town?”
That surprised me. “Well, a beef donated to the folks would be real nice. Food, as you know, is pretty scarce for a lot folks.”
Dave nodded. “Done. Anything else?”
“I can’t really think of anything right now. But I do have a question.”
“What’s that?”
“You selling any cows?”
“This is a cattle ranch. But money is an uncertain issue at the moment. What are you offering? I’d take silver or gold.”
Nodding, I replied, “We have that. But would you be interested in trading for some hogs?”
“Hogs?” Dave asked with surprise.
“Yeah. I’ve got a bunch of hogs. Plus, I’ve got something else you could probably use.”
The haggler in Dave was coming out and he looked down his nose at me and asked, “Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“Well, I would imagine this place has a tractor or two and probably a couple of trucks that still run. I’ve got diesel fuel.”
While he was interested in the hogs, the mention of the fuel visibly excited him. He slowly started to nod his head. “I think we can make a deal.” Looking at Janet, he asked, “How many heifers we got carrying calves right now?”
“About seventy-five.”
Dave pointed at me in the way a man willing to make a deal will do. “Tell you what, Morgan. I’ll give you two pregnant heifers that’ll calve soon. That gives you four head, for five hundred gallons of diesel and four hogs.”
I rubbed the back of my neck as I made a visible play of thinking it over. “Five hundred gallons is a lot of fuel. How about three hundred and I’ll give you a pregnant sow. That’ll give you a litter. I’ll also make sure you have a good boar in the mix to keep you in hogs.”
“Some pork would be real nice,” Janet said. “Don’t get me wrong, I love beef. But when it’s all you have, a little variety is real appealing.”
“I totally agree,” I replied. Then I looked at Dave and asked, “We got a deal?”
He held his hand out and replied, “Deal. You want me to deliver the cows? Or do you have a stock trailer?”
“If you’d deliver them, that would be a big help. I’m assuming you’ve got a tank around here for the fuel. Bring it and the cows. We’ll unload the cows and put the hogs in the trailer. Then we’ll get your fuel.” I was already starting to like Dave and thought I’d add a little sweetener to the deal, though I didn’t have to. “Tell you what, I’ll also throw in a fifty-pound sack of flour.”