“My grandma made a natural antibiotic tea and ointment from honey and garlic and a few other things,” Norma told them. “It’s an old recipe, but a good one; apple cider vinegar, honey, garlic, ginger, turmeric, cumin and a little purple coneflower root for good measure. Echinacea, they call that now.”
“It’s been a hot and I’ll bet the bees have made honey already. In warm years, we harvest it in spring and fall both,” Chester added. “I can tell you how to find wild honey, if you’d like.”
“Yes, Chester, that would be fantastic!” Tara and Mary listened as Chester described the age-old technique for finding honey in the wild. Tara decided she might try it for herself.
Norma nodded sagely. “We’ll check our hive after bit, and I’ll send some honey home with you, Tara, along with grandmother’s antibiotic tea recipe.”
“Great! Thank you. Does it really work like antibiotics?” Tara knew she was probably grasping at straws, but hoped it might be useful to treat Clyde. It sounded too simple to her.
“Yes, the stuff will kill anything. You brew it up into a tea for drinking, and mix it with beeswax for cuts and sores.”
Norma scooted over and Mary and Tara sat on the swing with her. It was peaceful and the view from their front porch down the lane to the main road, was picturesque.
“I could get used to this,” Mary sighed.
“This was my great-grandfather’s house, been in the family since 1860,” Norma replied. “It’s like an old friend.”
Tara hated to disturb the peaceful ambience but they were there for a reason. She proceeded to tell them about Clyde’s condition and all the terrible things that had happened. The old couple listened gravely, shaking their heads, their seamed faces looking sad and tired.
“So, anyway, that’s why we’re here today, unfortunately. But I’d love to trade for some honey, Norma, if you can spare any. If it helps Clyde, well, I’ll try anything. He’s going downhill fast, I’m afraid.” She hesitated, thinking about Clyde’s irregular breathing. “And I’m sorry to have to give you all this bad news, but we trust you and thought you might have some ideas on who we can get to join us.”
“I can still tote a gun as good as any youngster,” Chester boasted, and his wife pooh poohed him.
“Old man, you’re bound to get killed. You need to stay out of the fracas.”
Chester laughed good naturedly. “I’m just saying, if you can’t find anyone else, I’m happy to take a turn at the watch.”
Tara thanked him and they sat talking things over. It soon became obvious the only people they could really be sure of were those they knew well; themselves, Chester and Norma, Luke’s mom Jenny, and Craig and Bethany. That was enough to set up surveillance watches at the graves.
Norma went inside to get a container and they all walked behind the barn to the beehive. They stood back while Chester lifted the trays from the rack and sure enough, the sweet golden liquid dripped from the honeycomb. He broke off the comb in pieces and filled the Tupperware, handing it to Tara. She carefully placed the precious commodity in her backpack.
The Heinrich’s walked them back to their bikes with Norma giving instructions on brewing the antibiotic tea to Mary, while Tara tried to hear her over Chester discussing the winery party that weekend. The old couple seemed grateful for visitors, and Chester talked a blue streak. They told Normal and Chester they would see them Saturday and mounted their bikes after hugging their elderly friends. Tara and Mary started home, Chester and Norma still waving until the women were out of sight, as Tara’s grandparents used to do.
~
The next day, ready for their experiment in wild honey retrieval, Tara and Mary pedaled down the road past Clyde’s house to the tracks at the far edge of town, near the forest. They parked their bikes and Tara took a saucer and a small Tupperware out of her basket. She gently shook a piece of honeycomb out onto the plate and poured the thick golden liquid left in the container over it. Next she retrieved a small mesh kitchen strainer with a long handle, handing it to Mary. Mary laid her own strange looking tool on the ground; a long handled scoop fashioned out of a weenie-roasting fork and a large spoon.
Tara walked toward the railroad tracks, looking for a flowering bush. She found one after a short stroll, and noticed a few bees buzzing around it.
Tara set the plate of honeycomb down beside the bush and took the mesh strainer from Mary. “I hope Chester’s right and this actually works.”
Within just a few minutes, the bees on the bush found the saucer of honey and loaded up on it. Soon the plate was full of the insects.
“Okay, Mary, watch which direction they fly away.”
The first loaded down bee rose slowly off the plate, did a couple of lazy circles in the air, and headed toward the trees. “Okay, there he goes. Keep your eyes on him, Mary.
Tara carefully knelt down with the mesh strainer and covered the remaining bees with it, picking up the plate carefully. Mary pointed the direction and they started off into the trees. After a short walk they’d lost both the bee and their bearings. It was impossible to tell where the bee had gone.
Tara gently lifted the edge of the strainer until another bee crawled to the open edge of the saucer and escaped. She recovered the plate and the remaining bees, and they watched the new bee head further into the woods. They continued in this manner for almost a mile—they were down to their last captive bee. Mary pointed up to large tree where a hole in the trunk five feet off the ground buzzed with the insects. Mary pulled a hood and facemask from her backpack, along with matches and a homemade torch; a cloth partially dampened with lamp oil wrapped around a stick, to smoke the bees into docility.
“Here goes nothing,”
Tara stood back as Mary lit the torch and stuck it up to the hole. After a few minutes, the insects had slowed their frantic buzzing. Mary pulled her honey scoop from her belt and a large Tupperware from her knapsack. She stuffed the scoop down the tree while Tara held the smoker. Soon she brought up large sections of honeycomb dripping with the thick, delicious liquid. They filled the container as full as they could, and only near the very end of the procedure did Mary get stung.
“Ow!” she cried, pulling the stinger out and rubbing the spot. “Well, I guess it’s a small price to pay for so much honey!”
“You’re not allergic, are you?”
Mary shook her head no and pulled off the hood. “It worked, Tara, can you believe it?”
Tara could not. She was thrilled to learn a new trick, another to add to their repertoire. Now they could make plenty of antibiotic tea and ointment, and eat honey until they burst. Summer and fall, they could find it this way.
The women headed home, pleased with themselves and feeling very grateful for Chester’s lesson on honey gathering in the wild.
~
Clyde remained stable but still suffered horribly, often groaning in his sleep-like state, and Tara prayed he remained mostly unconscious. She and Mary mixed up a batch of Norma’s grandmother’s tea and ointment, and used a dropper to feed Clyde small amounts. He seemed to become more alert afterwards, waking a few times. This gave Tara some hope.
The rest of the week passed with Tara distracted both by Clyde’s illness, tending to him, and the ongoing discussions with Lee and Mary about where the figure in the graveyard may have come from. As Tara went about the task of foraging for their daily meals all week, she and Mary watched the houses carefully, moving systematically through new areas of the neighborhood. They looked for any signs of occupancy around each home, imagining the shadowy figure might be lurking right in their midst.
Suspicion of the winery occupants also occupied Tara’s thoughts. For all they knew, Jake was involved. Consumed by the ongoing dilemma, the days flew by, and Saturday soon arrived.
Tara spoke to Craig, Bethany, Jenny, and Chester about spying on the graves to try and catch the culprit. They all agreed to help and she planned to assign their watch times tonight at the party. Craig also put forth Dave and Bo
nnie Collins as prospective members of the surveillance team, having known them a while. Tara found out this was the red-haired couple she had spotted at the classes and food swaps, and that they could be trusted.
Tomorrow was Sunday, and she’d invited Jake for a chicken dinner. She hoped to get to know him better, maybe he was safe. Perhaps she might even pry more details out of him about his boss. She felt they could truly trust no one but themselves at this point in the game. Lee pointed out that they didn’t even know how many had survived in their area. Literally anyone they saw could be behind it; the suspect would have to be caught in the act for them to be sure of their guilt.
On top of the stress from all this, no matter how much Tara begged, Lee insisted he would sit with Clyde the night of the wine and cheese party at Old Town Winery. “It’s just too awkward on crutches, Tara. I’ll meet everyone in another six weeks or so when I can get around better.” Bethany too, hated this sort of thing, and offered to babysit Ben for a few hours so Julie could go.
On the day of the party, all that remained was to tow Lee to Clyde’s in the cart attached to her bike. With a final reassuring hug for Lee and instructions on feeding Clyde droppers-full of Norma’s tea, Tara headed back home. She parked her bike and cart, planning to pick Lee up later, as Mary had promised to stay all night with Clyde after the party was over.
Back home, Tara dressed in her prettiest skirt and blouse, tossing on a blazer to finish off the outfit. She ran to the upstairs window to flash her light into Mary’s house across the street, the signal to meet out front. She opened the door to see Julie and Luke crossing the street, Mary close behind, and Bethany at the front door holding Ben by the hand.
“Since it’s not all that far, let’s walk—skirts don’t mix too well with riding bikes.” Julie and Mary agreed, and they waved a final goodbye to Ben and followed Tara around the side of the house and out through the back yard. It was about quarter till eight and daylight was just beginning to fade.
“I’m excited to meet this man, Mr. Brenner,” Tara began.
“I’m excited to eat cheese,” Mary instantly chimed in, always the jokester. They laughed, but she had a point. “I’m fairly excited about that myself, Mary,” Luke chuckled. They all seconded this.
The small group turned the corner at the intersection and could see the big barn aglow with light. A row of lanterns lined the entrance and more festooned the trees, casting twinkling lights all around the property. It was beautiful, creating a magical effect, like Walt Disney World at night. Tara pushed aside all her fears and worries and clapped her hands together. “Oh how nice! It’s a real party!”
If nothing else, she liked Mr. Brenner already, just for the effort he’d put forth for them all.
“Yeah, I feel almost normal,” breathed Julie, and Luke wrapped his arm around her shoulders, squeezing her close. She positively glowed with this pregnancy, and wore the skintight tops so popular with the younger generation to show off her “baby bump.” Tara smiled inwardly picturing the huge, voluminous maternity shirts they used to wear to hide such things in her day.
They followed the lantern-lined path up to the barn where the big sliding double doors stood wide open, revealing the interior. People milled about inside under the glow of hanging lanterns, glasses of wine in their hands. A long bar ran the length of the main room, and all around the space were shelves with T-Shirts, glasses and other knick-knacks for sale. On the wall behind the bar, bottles of wine filled a rack in rows all the way to the ceiling.
“Ooh,” Julie breathed, making a beeline for the knick-knacks, pulling Luke behind her. Money wasn’t of much use now, and Tara wasn’t sure if it would even be the preferred currency here. It might be food for all she knew.
There were quite a few people already assembled, and Tara noticed nearly all the members of their nursing class had attended, as well as Chester, Norma, and Craig the guard. Craig told her Melanie hadn’t returned yet, and Tara wondered what was detaining her. They needed her to arrange contact with Clyde’s General grandson, not to mention wanting to know whether she had found the Morgellons info.
There were other people there too, although Tara didn’t recognize many of them. All suspects, really. Tara usually hated thinking negative, but it was true.
Tara caught a flash of red from the corner of her eye through the wide open barn doors and turned toward the street outside. It was Ben. Pedaling wildly toward the winery on his little red bike, he was still far enough away that no one had seen him.
He must have slipped away from Bethany! Just as she thought this, his front wheel hit a bump and the child went flying off in a heap, the small bike crashing into the weeds. Before she could even react, she saw a man run from the side yard to his aid.
“Mary, Ben followed us!” she cried, heading outside.
Tara hurried across the lawn, watching as the kind older man picked the child up and brushed at his knees, one of which was skinned. He pushed back Ben’s hair, wiped his tears, and reassured him. By the time Tara reached them, the man was pulling a Band Aid from his pocket and affixing it to the injury.
“There, there, good as new! Where’s your mom?” Tara heard the man ask.
“Ben! What are you doing here, where’s Bethany?” Just then a yell from down the street came from Ben’s babysitter, who rushed up looking decidedly frantic.
“I couldn’t catch him!” Bethany panted. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
Mary joined them as the man patted Ben’s head and started back toward the winery before Tara could thank him. She called out a thank-you, and he gave a wave and a smile. Mary and Bethany fussed over Ben, telling him they would see him soon. Bethany led him back down the street, pushing his bike beside her.
The excitement over, they headed back inside.
“Look, there’s Jake,” Mary said, nodding his way. Jake spotted them and headed over, picking up a tray from the bar on his way past.
“Hello, ladies. I’m glad you made it!” He held the platter out and Tara saw cubes of cheese with crackers, and small French pickles on the side, along with several glasses of wine.
“Jake, good to see you!” Tara held up a hand at the proffered wine. “No thanks, it’s my migraine trigger. But I will have some cheese. What a treat!” She helped herself to several cubes and crackers along with a cornichon, popping the hastily assembled hors d’oeuvre into her mouth. She closed her eyes at the buttery creaminess and sharp tang of the aged Swiss, and the sweet crunch of the pickle. Heavenly.
Mary also went for the hors d’oeuvre’s. “At this rate, we’ll eat you out of cheese and crackers single handedly,” she told Jake. The young man laughed good naturedly and told them it was okay, that they had several gigantic wheels of cheese in the back.
“Speaking of eating, Jake, I wanted to remind you about dinner tomorrow night at seven?”
Jake looked surprised for a moment. “Oh, that’s great. I didn’t think you really meant it.”
Mary laughed through her mouthful of cheese and crackers. “Oh, Tara always means what she says and says what she means. It’s totally annoying sometimes.”
“Hey! I’m not sure I like the sound of that,” Tara joked. Jake smiled and accepted her invitation, looking quite pleased. Tara gave him quick directions, and just as she finished, Julie passed by, giggling and sipping a glass of red wine. Mary took it from her with a scowl. “You are carrying a small passenger and don’t need alcohol!”
“I only had a little.” Julie pouted. “It’s a party, Mom.” Mary shook her head, muttering under her breath. “These kid’s nowadays.”
Jake laughed. “We’re not all bad.”
Mary told her daughter about Ben following them and his skinned knee, and Julie was ready to go back home until they convinced her he was fine.
Tara inclined her head toward the small man across the room who had attended to the boy after his bike crash. He had a bald head and a fringe of gray hair above his ears. “Who is that?”
“Th
at’s Mr. Brenner. Want to meet him?” This immediately reassured Tara quite a bit. Anyone who helped a child—especially when he didn’t know anyone was watching—was okay in her book.
Before Tara could respond, a large hulking man entered from the door behind Brenner, approaching the owner. A flash of fear hit Tara and she nudged Mary, nearly knocking the cracker and cheese from her hand. Jake turned away to say hello to another guest, and Tara whispered, “I think that’s the guy I saw that night. The one I thought was Meyers.”
Mary stared as Tara tried to resume a neutral expression. When Jake turned back to them, Tara asked who it was with a nonchalance she didn’t feel.
“That’s John Morgan, Mr. Brenner’s cousin. He’s the vineyard guy.” Jake cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “He’s also a weirdo, but you didn’t hear that from me.”
Mary glanced at her quickly, eyes narrowed and Tara smiled. This was exactly the sort of inside info she was hoping to pry from Jake at dinner tomorrow. He was young; no match for her and Mary’s professional-level scheming.
The large man with the craggy face disappeared back through the rear door, as Jake led them over to meet the owner of Old Town Winery.
Chapter 9
He looks like a yoga teacher was Tara’s first thought. With the long fringe of hair, Mr. Brenner’s laid back appearance leaned toward the artistic side. Well-worn blue jeans topped by a denim shirt completed Tara’s impression—a liberal, artsy, benign professor-type who taught some sort of metaphysical classes on the side. She chided herself immediately for stereotyping. But even she knew stereotypes were in place for a reason—they were often true enough to take note.
Tara and Mary followed Jake across the now-crowded room, and Jake made the introductions. Brenner’s pale blue eyes crinkled at the corners, taking their measure.
“Ladies, delighted to meet you again—formally this time. Are you the women Jake chastised for using the stairs?”
“I’m afraid so,” Tara replied sheepishly. “We honestly didn’t know anyone was at the winery.”
Red Death (Book 2): Survivors Page 9