“We’ll give her a few more minutes,” Tara told them, pulling a bible out of her backpack. She planned to read from it for Clyde’s service, since there were no surviving preachers in town. They all stood quietly in a small group, staring at Clyde’s plain wood coffin. Tara hoped she could get through this without shedding too many tears. She told herself Clyde was in a better place. Lee seemed to know how hard this was for her, and he put one arm around her, leaning on the crutch.
After another ten minutes of respectful small talk about Clyde’s life, Tara decided they needed to begin and told everybody it was time. She hated to start without Mary, but she couldn’t keep the camp workers here for so long, since they had been kind enough to volunteer.
Where can she be?
Melanie stood beside Tara offering her support, with Lee on her other side as she opened the bible and began to read the ninety-first psalm. Bethany, Craig and the Heinrich’s bowed their heads as Tara began. The first stanza had barely left her lips when the sound of Mary’s bike rattling down the cemetery lane as fast as it would go turned them all around.
Mary face looked stricken, her eyes wide and scared. Tara waited while she dropped her bicycle on the ground then hurried over. The others nodded and said hello, but Mary had eyes only for Tara. Melanie stepped aside as Mary grabbed Tara’s arm, knocking the Bible from her hand. Alarmed, Tara bent to retrieve it, facing Mary. Tears were streaming from her eyes, and everyone was just as flabbergasted as Tara, and waiting to hear what was wrong.
Mary leaned in so only Tara could see and mouthed— Julie has the fibers.
Chapter 11
Melanie stood close enough to understand what Mary said, and her hand flew to her mouth as Tara’s heart sank. Dear God, no. Julie—the baby.
Melanie quietly informed the others who were in on the secret disease problem, as Tara pulled Mary aside. The Heinrich’s were aware of Clyde’s illness, so was Melanie, Craig and Bethany. But the camp workers did not know, and Tara knew Melanie preferred to keep it that way, at least until something panned out with either the surveillance or some understanding of exactly what they were dealing with.
Tara tried to refocus. Right now, they must bury sweet old Clyde, the victim of this horrible disease. And next could be Julie. Tara forced her mind from this train of thought.
“Mary, we’ll find something. The antibiotic recipe was working for Clyde! We’ll heal her somehow, she’s young and strong and Clyde was so old and weak.”
Mary sniffed back her tears, trying her best to gain control and doing a fairly good job of it.
“We have to get through this now, somehow. Then all our energy goes to Julie.” Mary nodded, wiping her eyes. Tara led her back to the group waiting around the open grave. The quizzical looks on the faces of those not in the know, and the resigned ones on those who did, struck Tara. Somehow, she picked up the bible and began where she had left off, focused solely on sending Clyde to his eternal rest.
Lee steadied her arm when she stopped a couple times to shed a few tears. But Tara believed intrinsically that life was for the living, and Clyde was beyond her help now. She would always love him and never forget him. Now Julie needed her, and the thought of a precious, unborn baby with the same terrible affliction started swirling in her mind as soon as she finished quoting the last psalm. It was time to get to work; she was ready for a fight.
After the service ended, Tara stood watching the camp workers pull the ropes up tight under the casket and gently lower it into the grave. She turned away as they began shoveling the mound of dirt back on top. The group gathered around her to offer condolences, and Tara invited them back to the house. She knew her friends wanted to talk about the new developments.
Tara told Bethany to ride home with Craig, and she would take Lee back in the bike cart. Melanie had come in the camp worker’s van, and the Heinrich’s had an old diesel truck. They all pulled away as Tara helped Lee into the cart. Mary pedaled slowly beside them back to the house, not saying much, but Tara did all she could to give positive ideas on how they would begin treating Julie.
“I forgot to ask Melanie if she found the paper on Morgellons.” Tara fretted. Her mind skipped to the list of things they would need. “We have to gather ingredients so we have plenty of tea and ointment. My purple coneflowers are up and should be flowering in another week. But we can dry some of the roots and use them before the flowers are ready. In the meantime, Norma has dried Echinacea root I’m sure she’ll give us.” Tara stole a glance at her friend. Mary was still quiet, unusually so.
She knows. She’s a nurse. So is Julie. And there’s nothing I can do to distract them from the truth. Julie will probably die no matter what we do.
~
Tara had very little to offer her friends and acquaintances at Clyde’s wake. She’d saved a jar of mayonnaise and a packet of dried ranch dressing from the house they’d cleaned. She also had quite a few hosta shoots. She decided to whip up some “vegetables” and dip with these ingredients, and arranged it all prettily on a tray. The leftover ghetto peanut butter-walnut fudge she stacked on the side. The shock of Clyde’s death and the sadness of the funeral was lessening, and Tara was filled with new purpose: save Julie.
The sound of talking drifted in to her as she worked in the kitchen. Melanie was telling everyone about Meyers’s escape and the general’s murder. A long pause followed her words, and someone must have broken the tension with a joke at Meyers’s expense. The sound of answering laughter in her house afforded her sudden pleasure, but also struck Tara with guilt. She shook it off. Clyde would want us to be happy at his send-off.
As she carried in the snacks, Melanie was relaying another story about the former camp commander. Everyone was laughing as she described Meyers’s ego and various affectations—the riding crop he’d begun to carry on his rounds through the camp was one of them— he used it to point out various projects needing done, striking it against his leg when angry, or using it to swat at flies.
“We started calling him Colonel Klink, you know, the old guy with the monocle on Hogan’s Hero’s reruns, the Kommandant?” Melanie said.
Tara had not been at the camp long enough to see much of Meyers, but now that he was loose, she wanted to know as much about him as she could. The guests began trading stories among themselves as Melanie sidled over to her. Mary noticed and joined them.
“Everyone needs to know about Meyers escaping. But I still haven’t said anything to the camp workers about the new disease or your surveillance, and Craig swore he wouldn’t tell.”
“No one has seen anyone or anything unusual yet, by the way,” Tara told her.
“I found the report on Morgellons Syndrome. There were originally several pages and I located one.”
“Oh, thank God,” Mary choked, her hand flying to her mouth, “but only one page?”
“Yes, unfortunately. But it does give some idea on what they were trying to treat it with—antibiotics being one. Of course, that doesn’t help us much since we have none of those left.”
“I know for a fact our homemade antibiotic tea and ointment was helping Clyde.”
Melanie listened as Tara recounted Norma’s recipe, nodding and raising her eyebrows in admiration at their resourcefulness.
“UVB light was another one of their experiments,” Melanie told them, “which is a spectrum of sunlight. You need to get Julie started on all this.”
“Yes, we’ll begin the new regimen tomorrow.” Tara put an arm around Mary, who forced a tired smile. Melanie hugged the worried woman too.
“Don’t give up, Mary, it’s not hopeless yet. I’ve checked my patients and they are all still alive,” she told Mary.
Tara tried to think of some way to distract Mary from Julie’s terrible prognosis and cheer her up. She hit on the perfect solution. “Clyde left his house to me, and I’ve decided to give it to Julie and Luke. Let’s start cleaning it tomorrow after our shift at the camp. That way, as soon as she’s well, they can get moved in
with plenty of time to spare before the baby is born.” There’s nothing like planning for the future to stop doom and gloom thinking.
Mary perked up instantly. “Oh Tara, that would be great! Wait until I tell her.” Tara knew the disinfecting and cleaning of Clyde’s would get Mary’s mind off the situation, plus give Julie and Luke hope too.
Mary excused herself early to go home and tend to Julie, and Tara told her she’d be over as soon as the guests left. She planned to force antibiotic tea down Julie’s throat whether she wanted it or not, and smear her head to toe with ointment. Tara was already thinking ahead; harvesting more honey; drying purple coneflower roots and garlic from the garden; gathering wild mint and other useful medicinal plants; putting Julie in Tara’s back yard in full sun. She’s going to beat this.
~
The next morning Tara hurried through her rounds at the camp, saving the young boy, Tyler, for last. She’d brought a cup of antibiotic tea for the child. It didn’t taste the greatest, but she got the okay from Melanie to give it to him. She had stirred in some sugar to make it more palatable for the child.
Her mind skipped back over Clyde’s funeral and wake yesterday, ending on the sad note of seeing Julie with her rounded belly covered with sores. Fibers had started in one of them, and Tara almost cried at the expression on Julie’s face. Resigned to dying, is what it looked like. That simply would not do, and Tara had disabused her of the notion immediately. She and Lee’s entire lives, at least since their young son had been killed, had been spent avoiding relationships. To them, the pain had simply not been worth the risk. At times like this, Tara was reminded of their earlier ways. But they had learned the pay-off was so great; the love and trust of others, the joy at witnessing their joy; it added so much more to life. She sighed. It’s better to love, and even to grieve together, if it comes to that.
Tara had scolded Julie immediately upon seeing her hopeless expression. “Get that look off your face, young lady. You and the baby will be just fine. But you better not be one of those difficult patients. I know how you nurses are.” Julie had forced a smile as Luke looked on anxiously.
“Thank you for giving us the house, Tara.”
Tara had nodded, helping Julie sit up so she could drink the tea. “We start on it tomorrow after our rounds at the camp, so we’ll need your help as soon as you’re up.” Julie had looked at her with such hope, whispering, “I want to see it, as soon as I can, okay? I can ride in the cart. I just want to go there.”
Tara’s heart sank, but she told Julie she would take her. It was extremely hot behind her mask, and Tara left soon after. At the door, Mary shot her a knowing look.
“You gave them the house to keep them in the game, didn’t you? Moving forward, thinking positive, and all that?”
Tara nodded, found out. “I’m a big believer those with plans live the longest lives.”
~
Tara left the barracks after tending to Tyler; he looked bad, the sores had now spread all over his small body. He’d followed her orders to drink the tea, making only a slight face at the taste, but otherwise totally docile and lethargic compared to his usual self. Not a good sign.
Tara pulled her mask down around her neck and took a deep breath of fresh air. On a whim, she decided to walk back to the last barracks, the one padlocked by the Marines. She knew Melanie was afraid to go against orders, wanting to go through proper channels for permission, but Tara wanted to open it. She’d begged Melanie to pursue this. It might provide clues to what was going on.
Tara glanced over her shoulder to see if any guards were watching. No one was around. A small line of patients waiting by the mess hall up front was all she saw. She walked between the second to the last and the last barracks. There was a space between the two of about four feet. The fence ran along their far ends, just inches from the walls. Tara could see the lake beyond the fence thirty yards away, and a few ducks rose from the rocks and flapped toward the river. She glanced at the padlocked door on the last building. It was rusted, almost corroded over the keyhole. It didn’t look as though it had been used in a long time. Next, she walked to the fence and looked through it, fingers hooked through the diamond shapes.
There’s something on the ground over there.
Ten feet from the fence on the pond side lay a long, dark object, rounded on one end. Puzzled, Tara tried to move around to see it clearly, but couldn’t. She glanced past it, to the stairs carved into the high wall of the gravel pit, fifty yards or so away and immediately decided.
I’m going. She hoped no one was at the winery.
~
Tara signed out in the camp offices up front, then followed the river alongside the old Kmart to the path up the hill. Mary had already finished her rounds and gone straight home to check on Julie. Always now, when Tara reached the field at the top, she stared into the woods toward the hellish graveyard she knew lurked there, watching for movement or any signs of life. Today, nothing but trees and the sound of birds greeted her.
Her bike lay hidden in the tall weeds of the field, and Tara jumped on and pedaled toward the winery. As she neared, she decided to go past and park at the house on the far side, the better to remain unseen. She steeled herself by repeating she was doing this for Clyde and Julie.
Watching the barn doors to her right, then glancing down the road toward the vineyards, she walked swiftly to the fence and slipped open the gate, quickly pulling it shut behind her. Tara stood on the other side for a minute leaning against it and waiting to see if anyone yelled at her or followed.
I could always say I wasn’t using the stairs—that I just wanted to look at the view. She knew she could get away with that explanation if it happened to be Jake. But Brenner or Morgan, she was not so sure.
No one came after her, so Tara started down carefully, holding the rope for balance. She could see the entire camp laid out beyond the lake below, the slow moving line at the mess tent, and a few guards near the smoldering bonfire, ready to burn contaminated patient belongings.
Tara rushed as fast as she could to the bottom of the steps; she knew a moving figure on them was highly noticeable, visible to anyone at the camp or even from across the gravel pit near the graveyard. She remembered watching Jake ascend the steps from that very spot what seemed like a lifetime ago.
Once on the ground, Tara edged around the small pond. She tended to call it a lake, but it really wasn’t that big. The ducks squawked, and several flew up from the rocks near her. Although she felt a little guilty at her blatant, unauthorized foraging—calling it what it was, trespassing— she decided to see if any eggs might be found on her way through. Sure enough, four of the prized delicacies lay neatly in the rocks, in a nest of straw and twigs. Tara placed them carefully in her ever-present backpack.
Next, she headed toward the camp fence thirty yards away, the rolled barbed wire along the top glinting in the morning sunlight beside the last row of barracks. Conscious of being in no- man’s-land, exposed to either side, she tried to walk nonchalantly but caught herself hunching over.
Don’t look guilty. You can still play it off if caught.
Moving her eyes side to side without moving her head, aware of her vulnerability, Tara reached the thin object on the ground, stooping to pick it up. It looked like a stick with a loop on one end.
It’s a broken riding crop.
The leather was frayed halfway up, part of the length obviously missing. Melanie’s story from the day before rushed back and fear seized her. Meyers.
Tara decided it was too risky to go back up the winery stairs. She squeezed in behind the fence along the last barracks. There was only about a foot of space between the gravel-pit high wall and the heavy chain link fence. She and Mary had first come this way the day they’d met and been scolded by Jake. But Tara remembered talking as they slid through here, not paying much attention. Now she noticed something; at nearly the middle of the fence alongside the rear barracks wall, a section of the fence looked slightly different.
She stopped, perusing the post and link structure.
Someone had cut the fence along the metal post, attached the cut ends to a thin steel bar with U-clamps welded to it, then refastened the U-clamps to the post, creating what looked like a hidden, makeshift gate.
Startled, Tara glanced out toward the lake again. Still no one visible and she would be nearly invisible too now, crammed in behind the barracks. She tugged at one of the clamps and it popped off the pole. She pulled the second one and it too worked loose. Amazed, Tara looked down at the other three clamps, knowing once open, they would afford access to the camp—and no one would see you coming or going. Now she knew for certain. I have to get in that barracks.
Tara refastened the hidden gate, her head spinning with thoughts. Was the whip and the gate there all this time, since Meyers ran the camp? Did Mary and I pass them both unknowingly that day? Or did someone just drop it? And did someone just add the gate? She headed toward the steep path up the hill, trotting all the way back to retrieve her bike at the winery, anxious to show Mary and Lee her find and tell them about the mysterious opening behind the last barracks.
~
Tara raced home, the whip stowed in her basket. She hit her backyard running, dropping the bike near the porch. Riding crop in hand, she found Lee in the living room, doing his leg exercises.
“Look what was lying on the other side of the fence outside the barracks?” She stuck the piece of crop out and Lee took it from her as she gulped in a breath and continued. “Melanie was telling a story about Meyers with one of these, saying how silly and pretentious he looked—this could mean he’s here!”
“Tara, it could have been dropped by anyone. Or it could even be a different one altogether.”
Tara gave him a you can’t be serious look, letting out her breath in total exasperation.
“Oh, come on, Lee! Who’s gonna have one of these? It was his, I know it. Maybe it wasn’t him who dropped it, but someone did.”
Red Death (Book 2): Survivors Page 12