Red Death: Survivors
By
D.L. Robinson
Copyright 2015 by D.L. Robinson
Dedication
This book is for all those who wait.
Acknowledgements
Special thanks to Gary and Severed Press; to Darla and Sandy
for your help and encouragement; and most of all, thank you
to my maker for James, DB, hope and a future.
Prologue
Lakewood, Ohio 1966
The young boy followed his father toward the plain brick building, his stomach in a knot. The moon shone down brightly as they crossed the parking lot together, and the boy wished himself away to one of the craters on the surface of it. They passed the discrete sign inside the glass door which read Surgical Center, and the boy’s next wish was that he could be normal like other kids. He knew others his age went to school and played outside, while he was hidden away like a secret.
He had watched his dad’s rage growing for weeks. When it got this bad with no release, he knew what was coming. The boy did everything he could to placate his father when he sensed it building; bringing his paper and slippers, rubbing his shoulders as he sat in his favorite chair. But nothing worked. This time it was worse than usual, much worse.
The boy understood the demands on a famous surgeon like his father. He knew the man was treated almost like a God. But he was not a God. God was good. God helped you when you needed him. His father was the Devil. And no one knew.
A single tear inched slowly down his cheek and he wiped it quickly away before his father saw. Crying was not allowed, only submission. The boy followed the man into a sterile, white tiled room with shiny metal equipment surrounding a gurney. He tried to climb up on it as required, but his legs were too short. Strong hands gave him a boost from behind.
He was usually afraid to look into his dad’s face—that sometimes made it worse. But his father was so quiet this time, and the boy was so afraid. He lay back on the crisp white sheet and decided to peek up at him.
His father’s face shone with hectic excitement and purposeful intent. His eyes twinkled with glee. The boy’s heart sank and he closed his own eyes. Then his father spoke.
“Today is very special for you. You will always remember it.”
And he always did.
~
September 15th, 2015
Abandoned Kmart/conversion to FEMA Camp
Commander Brent “The Brick” Meyers walked slowly through the large rear lot behind the old Kmart building, checking over the construction taking place, tapping a short riding crop against his leg. He’d recently bought it for himself and kind of liked the air of authority it lent him.
The barracks were up in record time, the fenced perimeter was too, and again his pride almost choked him. The idea that he, a small town National Guard Commander had been appointed to oversee such an enterprise as this instilled him with a great sense of accomplishment, like no other single event in his life ever had. When the call had come to begin converting the Kmart to a FEMA camp, Meyers felt like his life’s mission had finally fallen into place.
He knew his men considered him an arrogant asshole. He knew what the townsfolk thought of him too. But he didn’t care one whit. Finally, the powers that be had confirmed his own opinion of himself; he was a leader, better than others, and the only man regionally who could handle quarantining the Ebola outbreak that was quickly turning into a pandemic. Since appointed, Meyers went about the job fanatically, with near divine purpose, as though sanctioned by God himself.
The first patients had already been transferred there, and all personnel were now in place. Stringent safety protocols were being implemented, but losses were still heavy among guards and medical workers. Meyers wore a mask and gloves himself at all times, unless he was in his office which overlooked the Kmart parking lot out front.
The noise of generators mounted on trucks ringing the building, the shouts and hammering of workers, and the general cacophony of a major construction site filled his ears as he headed toward the far barracks. Only the first few rows were occupied with patients. Meyers reached the perimeter, looking through the gap between the barracks to his right, out to the small lake on the other side of the fence. A few ducks rose flapping into the blue sky, and he smiled, pleased with himself.
As he turned to start back to his office, a sort of thump came from the last barracks on the right. It stood tucked into the corner of the tall barbed wire fence. Puzzled, he walked to the door. It was padlocked. Next, he moved to the rear of the building. There was only a foot or so of room between the rear wall and the fence. Meyers slid sideways into the space, he was a big man and hardly fit, but was determined to find what had caused that sound.
A barely discernable vertical line running down the horizontal wooden boards apprised him of a cleverly hidden door. He pushed at it and it swung open. With one hand on his firearm, he stepped into the barracks.
A well lit room spread out before him, with gurneys lined up in neat rows, and humped, sheet-covered forms covering some of them. A man in a white doctor’s coat stood frozen in mid-movement, a bloody severed leg in one gloved hand, and a bone saw in the other. He wore a colonel’s hat on his head, tilted at a rakish angle. A spread-eagled woman lay in front of him on the table, spurting blood. Meyers staggered back, trying to escape the horrific scene. He fell out the door against the vine-covered fence behind him, unable to move any further, frozen in shock. The doctor-coated-man’s voice penetrated the sudden loud buzzing in his ears.
“Commander Meyers. At last we meet. Come in, I have a proposition for you.”
~
Chapter 1
Tara’s Diary
June 5, 2016
I guess I should have known when we found the graves. I just didn’t put it all together. I thought we were past the worst of everything. Ebola was dying out in the population, the cleaning committee was disinfecting and spiffing up houses for new families—society, or at least what was left of it, was reforming, although in severely reduced numbers. But hey, it was a start.
I was so excited about my new life, my second chance. I was stoked when Mary and her daughter Julie asked me to join their nursing pod, so I could learn the skills necessary to work with them at the camp. There are still virus cases there, and new ones coming in. With the protective clothing and the nursing knowledge to deal with Ebola, I’m not as scared as I used to be. I feel pretty secure. And the patients need us— that is a really great feeling. I know I’ll never be a real nurse, but once I finish the course, I’ll be the next best thing.
The idea of the teaching pods originated with Melanie, the head nurse at the camp who saved so many of us incarcerated there. Melanie is the medical director now, but she travels a lot. The Marines asked her to be their visiting nurse, and the promotion keeps her busy.
The first class was held up front in the old Kmart office. Mel started with medical and nursing skills since those are so scarce now. A few other experts in everything from agriculture to mechanics have recently joined in. The idea of gathering those who have interest and aptitude and instructing them so they can spread their newfound knowledge, took off. It’s like a miniature college. You definitely need to be well rounded in this new world. Knowledge is everything now.
I just didn’t think about anything from the past breaking through. But something bad is happening again, maybe even worse than Ebola. Worse because there aren’t many of us left, and once we’re gone, it really will be the end of the world. I just can’t let this happen. I have to find who’s behind it and stop it, before it grows like the cancer it is and kills what’s left of us. What kind of a madman would even do something like th
is? I can’t grasp it. And I can’t trust anyone but Mary, Melanie, and Lee, except maybe Julie and Luke—and Clyde of course, always Clyde. God help us all.
~
June 3rd, 2016
Tara Green breathed deeply. The fresh air on this first really warm day of spring was invigorating and long overdue. She was meeting Mary on the old barn road; their plan was to attend a cleaning committee meeting together at the camp and go foraging for food along the woods at the edge of town. It had been a rough winter, but they’d made it through. Spring and summer always brought hope.
Tara rotated her shoulder, still stiff from the gunshot wound she’d sustained before the Marines arrived to clean up the mess at the camp. That was Post-E—she’d taken to calling everything that happened after the pandemic “Post-E,” including the abomination of the “FEMA” camp and its unsanctioned plasma donation factory. “E” stood for Ebola, of course. And the old days, back before it all happened she nicknamed “Pre-E.” But none of them talked much about those times now. What was the point? Tara barely remembered the woman she used to be then.
The still-damp weather gave her collarbone a little tweak. She imagined it would always be her personal reminder of what she’d lived through, at least on certain spring days or cool fall ones. Tara didn’t even mind. She smiled, looking up at the bright blue sky, simply glad to be alive.
Movement up ahead caught her eye, and there was Mary heading toward her down the road. Her heart swelled at seeing her friend, even though they’d just shared dinner last night. After everything they had been through, Tara knew their bond would always be a strong one. And that was a new thing for Tara and Lee. They had always been loners, keeping to themselves for the most part.
“Hey!” Mary yelled, waving.
“Hey, yourself,” laughed Tara, trotting the last few yards. She hugged Mary and noticed her knapsack already partially full with something.
“Whatcha got there?”
“Oh, I found another Hen of the Woods mushroom on the way. It’s going to taste pretty good later.”
“Speaking of fungi, I can’t wait for the Morel’s to come up. A couple more days like this and they should be ready. They might even be up now. We ought to check after the meeting, just in case,” Tara told her. It was early June but it had been cool, so it might mean a later Morel season.
“How are you feeling?” Mary had developed a mild urinary infection and started taking some of her left-over unexpired antibiotics a few days before.
“Good, the pills are working. I want to look for info on treating this sort of thing naturally. Once our pills run out, we’ll need to know. I used to be into that natural stuff back in my hippie days and I’ve got some books on herbal concoctions somewhere. I’m gonna dig them out.”
“Just another thing we need to learn,” Tara said softly, reminded daily of the enormity of all they had lost. Positive thinking was great and all, but it didn’t alter the facts: society as they knew it was gone forever. In big and small ways, it impacted them nearly every moment. There was simply no getting around it.
Tara took in Mary’s outfit; they’d planned to toss their clothes after disinfecting the first home later that day. Mary’s didn’t look old at all. In fact, they were downright stylish. Mary saw her checking them out and pointed back at Tara’s paint-stained pants, giggling.
“Hey, I can’t afford to throw away good clothes!” Tara replied, defending her choice.
“Oh yeah, well, this is all I had or I’d have worn something older. How’s Lee doing today?”
“He’s in a little pain, but not too bad.” It had taken Tara’s husband Lee quite some time to get his strength back after surviving the Ebola virus. Luckily, he had fully recovered, and just last week an orthopedic surgeon making rounds at the camp repaired Lee’s torn knee ligaments and tendons.
“The worst part is him being totally incapacitated again. But this time, we know it’s going to heal up right. That alone has him in a good mood!”
The Marines had occupied the Kmart camp facility for months, pulling out right after Lee’s surgery the week before. There had been a lot for them to clean up there—many patients still had active Ebola virus, and the facility’s sanitation issues were leading to new cases. There were fresh patients coming in too, but the virus had mostly burned itself out in the general population. There were so few people left, there was no one to spread it—or catch it for that matter. Again, Tara forced her mind away from this negative train of thought. It was pointless and just wouldn’t do. It is what it is.
“What’s new in your world?”
Mary paused and seemed to make a decision. “I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure, but Julie told me last night that she and Luke signed the cleaning committee’s waiting list to get a house near ours,” she said with a sheepish grin.
“Oh how great! So they really are getting serious then?”
Mary cleared her throat, ducking her head slightly and turning back to Tara. “Julie’s pregnant.”
Tara grabbed Mary’s arm in excitement and squealed. “Oh my gosh, Mary, that’s fantastic!” Life was going on, and here it was in living proof. This was a very good thing.
“I was beginning to wonder—I thought she was getting awfully fat on our mostly vegetarian diet!”
Tara saw a shadow cross Mary’s face. “I’m just a little worried about the medical end of things. Doctors are nearly impossible to find now. I just hope we can get Melanie’s help when Julie’s time comes.”
Tara instantly empathized. How scary it would be to birth a baby under these new conditions. But she wasn’t about to impart any more fear into her friend.
“It’s completely natural, Mary, just remember that. Women have been having babies since the beginning of time, and they never had any fancy obstetricians or childbirth centers either. So just wipe that fear right out of your mind. Everything will be fine, I know it.” She could see the weight of worry lift from Mary’s face and knew she’d done good. Tara wanted to believe all would be well now. They’d suffered so much loss; surely nothing more could go wrong.
“Is it still a secret,” she asked Mary, “or can we tell Clyde?”
“No, it’s not a secret. And I think Clyde will get a kick out of it. She’s almost six months along. I’m afraid she took a little ribbing from me about falling into his arms immediately after our rescue. But I suppose trauma will do that to a person.”
The budding relationship between Mary’s daughter Julie and Luke, the young man who had saved them from their internment at the camp six months previously, had grown and blossomed. Luke was younger than Julie, but in this new world, this didn’t matter as much. Things like that were different now from what they were in Pre-E days. There weren’t so many choices and rules. They all loved Luke, and Julie’s little boy Ben absolutely adored him. Watching Luke’s patience with the child as they played—the boy usually climbing all over him—did Tara’s heart good. It was a joy to see him so full of energy and life again after his listless, un-childlike demeanor at the camp. Since learning more nursing skills at the teaching pod, Tara knew the boy had been very near death.
Full of excitement about spring finally arriving and Lee’s surgery healing well, not to mention a new baby coming into the world, Tara walked with Mary to the cleaning committee meeting armed with renewed hope for the future.
~
Tara, Mary and a handful of volunteers filed out of the upstairs office in the former Kmart building which now housed the camp. The cleaning committee meeting had gone well. Several of the people walking beside them were camp workers and they veered off, heading back to their respective jobs in the mess hall and barracks. Tara and Mary exited through the still-boarded glass front doors, squinting in the bright morning sunlight.
They followed the parking lot around to the river side of the building and made their way up the steep hill to the road at the top, the way home. Tara looked at her watch, which thankfully, was still working. Thank Go
d for batteries. But someday they’ll all be expired. Tara couldn’t stop the unbidden thought, and again, veered her mind away from the negative.
“We’re supposed to meet them all at the house to disinfect in one hour. Let’s forage for a little bit, then stop at Clyde’s on the way there.”
The committee had chosen the first home on which to begin the house-disinfecting program, and it was on the way to their old friend Clyde’s. Tara was more than a bit apprehensive thinking about what they might encounter in this prospective home, but it had to be done, and there weren’t many of them left to do it. It was time to get started. Besides, the promise to share in any food stores found there sealed the deal for Tara. She’d handle whatever else came along somehow.
“Sure. Julie and Luke know the address. They’re meeting us there.”
Backtracking to the edge of town, the two friends started down the country lane that ran at a 90 degree angle to the road above the gravel pit and camp. There was no access to the camp compound from this side as the wall was too steep, but it provided a glimpse into the facilities below. The rows of barracks ran in an orderly line all the way to the vast parking lot in front of the old Kmart. Tara shuddered involuntarily at the memory of being incarcerated there.
The women passed the sparse row of old houses dotting the road beside them, their empty windows staring back like unseeing corpses, backyards ending in the drop-off to the pit. It was still sad for Tara to witness the devastating loss all around them via the empty homes. Neighborhoods once teeming with children and families now stood bereft of life. Haunted by it, Tara forced those thoughts away again. It did no good. . Besides, there was still new hope. The cleaning committee had moved from talking about decontaminating area homes, to finally doing it. Many of the survivors brought to the camp from around the state had decided to stay in town, and they needed housing. The camp hospital was the closest medical facility for many miles, and that alone made their little town an attractive place to live.
Red Death (Book 2): Survivors Page 1