Nancy took the temporary cast off and found his leg hot, with long red streaks running from his knee to his groin.
“We’ve got an infection,” she announced, “and it’s not responding to the antibiotics I’ve had him on thus far. We need to get him to a hospital; I mean a real hospital, or he’s not going to make it.”
“I’ll take him,” said Mike. “Me too,” added Steve.
“No, boys. He’s my friend and I got him into this, so I’ll go,” announced Lonnie.
I pulled Lonnie aside and spoke quietly. “I know he’s your friend, and we all want to see him get help. You are the lead driver in our group right now, and I need you to lead us to the next safe place for the night. I’ll go with Mike and take Vlad to the FEMA camp in Amarillo.”
“It’s risky, and there’s no guarantee you won’t be detained or not make it back,” replied Lonnie.
“I know, but I pushed for him to join us, and after what happened with Hendrix I need to give something back to the group. Will you keep a close eye on my family?” I asked.
“Just like my own, buddy. Just like my own,” replied Lonnie.
Sheila was able to rig one of the cars to pull Lonnie’s trailer, freeing his truck so we could make great time.
Lonnie made a point to thank her. “You’ve impressed us, Sheila, with your work ethic and friendship. I know you were concerned about whether you could join our group. Well, I took a little survey with everyone last night—except for Mike,” he said with a wink—“and they all voted unanimously to keep you on as a full member of our group if you so choose.”
“Yes, sir…Mr… I mean officer. That’s everything I was hoping for,” replied Sheila.
“Ma’am, please call me Lonnie.”
He pulled Mike aside, saying, “We just officially added your new girl to our group. Don’t get bored with her!”
“Ha! No chance of that, buddy,” replied Mike. “There’s not a lot of choices nowadays, and she’s as hot as they come.”
Joy and our boys were not happy I was leaving, and I kissed them all as we prepared to leave.
Our radios would be out of range, so we spent ten precious minutes looking at the map. Lonnie mapped out three days’ worth of travel, along with potential campsites, just in case we took longer than a day to get back.
Mike drove, while I stayed in the back with Vlad, who was still unconscious.
I was daydreaming about old Western movies. where a man gets shot and wakes up three days later in an unfamiliar house, being cared for by a woman he has never seen before.
We were told there would be a FEMA camp in Amarillo by the soldier we ran into a couple of days ago. The same one that led us to believe that they threw Ronna out of the helicopter, I thought. I hoped the information was correct or my new friend would not make it.
I crouched down next to Vlad, not wanting to get tossed out of the bed, as Mike laid on the gas.
“I’m going to need you standing to provide cover once we slow down in the city limits,” Mike told me over the radio. “I’m only stopping for military or the FEMA camp gates.”
The miles passed and I tried to talk to Vlad. I had heard before that sometimes unconscious patients could hear and later recall everything that was being said around them, even if they couldn’t respond.
“Vlad,” I said in a loud voice over the truck engine and wind. “Mike and I are taking you to town to get help.” I left out the part about the FEMA camp, knowing full well he wouldn’t be happy about it. “The fact that we can make this trip and keep our group safe is because you joined us and gave us the firepower to make it happen. I’m forever grateful to you, Vlad, and for your friendship so far. Just try to hold on for me, and all of us. I don’t want to have to drink all your vodka by myself!”
I half expected a comment back, but none came. I looked up to see a highway sign, reading “Amarillo ~ 20 miles.”
“Did you see that sign?” I asked Mike over the radio.
“Yeah, buddy, we’re close. I’m going to keep up the speed as long as I can, but it won’t be long…”
“Hey, Mike!” I shouted, pointing north towards a long line of people off in the distance.
“We will follow the herd,” he replied. “They must be heading to the Camp.”
Mike slowed the truck to just over 20 mph when he reached the back of the line of people walking, riding bicycles and, to his surprise, there were a few on four-wheelers.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” called Mike, pointing towards them.
“What happens when they get to the Camp?” I asked him.
“That’s what I was thinking,” Mike replied. “If they’re going to dump those four-wheelers, we’ve got room for a couple in the bed.”
The line was getting wider, and Mike drove on the shoulder now, only able to go ten mph.
“That’s it!” he called out, pointing ahead.
I was able to stand now, looking over the cab, reminding me of much of my childhood.
“I see it,” I replied. “Slow and easy. I don’t want to get shot today.”
Two soldiers near the gate held up a giant stop sign as we approached. Mike stopped idling the engine.
“Cut the engine,” one announced with a megaphone.
Mike turned off the motor, and we waited.
Ten minutes went by with no more instructions, and I wasn’t sure what to do.
Mike had his driver’s side window open, and we could talk without yelling.
I kept Vlad shielded from the sun as much as possible. He was breathing but still unconscious.
Two more soldiers showed at the gates and strolled towards us, rifles at the ready.
“Real still,” said Mike to me, not looking back.
At 20 yards out, they ordered us out of the vehicle.
“Hands up, boys,” called one, gesturing with his rifle.
We did as we were asked, raising our hands high into the air.
“You guys checking into the Camp?” he asked.
“Not exactly,” stated Mike, “but we’ve got one wounded in the back that needs medical attention.”
“So, you just thought you would drop someone off here, and now it’s our problem?”
“No, sir,” I replied. “We’ve got a man that has a bad infection from an injury, and he’s going to die if he doesn’t get help. We’ve done all we could, and it’s not enough.”
“Afternoon, gentlemen” came a voice from another soldier, now walking towards us.
“Afternoon, sir,” I said, giving Mike a WTF eyebrow lift.
“It’s all right,” said the soldier. “I know these guys. We met a couple of days ago. Where’s the rest of your group from the other day?” he asked.
“They’ve moved on towards Colorado, isn’t that right?” he said, clearly not expecting a reply. “Beautiful country up there, but the terrain can be downright hostile, especially now,” he added.
“So, you boys here to take me up on my offer?”
“No, sir. Not exactly,” replied Mike. “We’ve got a sick comrade in the back, and he’s going to die if you can’t help him.”
“Comrade, huh? You mean the wiseass Russian with the bad leg, I’m guessing.”
“That’s the one, sir,” replied Mike, now resigned to being turned away by the soldier.
“Wait here,” he said, and walked back to the front, disappearing through the gate.
The minutes ran by in awkward silence, with none of us saying a word.
I felt like I was trying to buy a new car and the guy was taking my offer back to his boss, as I wondered if he was getting a soda and letting me stew.
Nearly 30 minutes later, he returned with a civilian in a white coat, carrying a medical bag.
“We’ll take a look,” said the soldier, as he lowered the tailgate.
The doctor jumped up on the back of the truck and began to examine Vlad.
“Can’t you take him in and get him out of the heat?” I asked.
&nbs
p; “I want to make sure he’s got a chance at surviving first. I don’t need a corpse in our hospital getting other people sick.”
It sucked for Vlad, but I saw his point.
“He’s got a severe infection,” said the Doctor a few minutes later. “He may lose his leg, but I think we can save him.”
“What do you think, boys,” the soldier asked. “Should we take him inside?”
“Might be good practice for our Medical Team,” the doctor spoke up.
“Good point, Doc,” he replied.
* * * * * * *
Chapter Twenty-two ~
FEMA Camp
Amarillo, Texas
“Since you boys are here,” the soldier added, “let me show you around. First, all weapons in the truck.”
Mike and I laid our concealed carry pistols next to the rifles already in the truck.
“Just have to be sure, boys,” he continued, as one of his men frisked us.
“Don’t worry; no one will mess with your truck here. I want to give you the grand tour, in case your group gets tired of fending for themselves out there in no-man’s-land.”
The Camp was more extensive than I could have imagined, with people everywhere. Some were wandering about, while most were doing some sort of work.
“Everyone has a purpose here,” announced the soldier. “And as you can see, no one wants to leave,” as I told you before.
I saw only women and children and guessed Vlad was right about them separating the men.
“Where are the men?” I asked.
“They have their very own Camp just a few miles over there,” he said, pointing east. “Keeps things simple…
“Excuse me for a minute, gentlemen,” he said, as he veered off to talk to a security guy.
“I don’t like this,” I told Mike in a low voice.
“Me neither,” he said, and added, “Notice how all the guards are men, and the women steer clear of them as they walk around?”
“I saw that,” I replied. “I can only imagine what happens here after dark, with all the husbands a few miles away…”
“I want to ask him about Harry, but it’s probably a bad idea,” said Mike, finishing my sentence.
“Sorry about that, guys. There’s always something here that needs my attention.
“We’ve got running water, and even hot showers,” he said, pointing to a building on the far end of the Camp.
“I can’t show you those, since the women are showering.”
I’m sure it’s really private, I thought, as I saw two male guards just inside the wide-open front door, joking and pointing into the building.
“I’m guessing you boys are hungry,” he said, opening the door to a large cafeteria.
“Lunch is almost over, but you’ve got about 30 minutes.” He told the guard we were his guests and said, “Dig in, gentlemen. I’ll be back in about 30 to finish off our tour.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said, reaching out to shake his hand. This time he shook it.
Mike was staring wide-eyed at the long line of food, reminding me of the old Sizzler and Golden Corral buffets.
“You’re guests of the Colonel, I assume?” asked one of the servers.
“Ah, hell,” said Mike. “I didn’t know he was a Colonel.”
“Everyone is a little less formal here,” the server replied, with a smile. “Anyway, you start over here.” He pointed towards a large stack of plates and trays. “Then move on down and tell me what you want. We don’t waste food here, but you can have as much as you can eat.”
Truth be told, I was starved, and since we were guests of the “Colonel,” as I now knew him, I was not going to pass up his offer.
The salad bar was impressive, with fresh vegetables, from where I don’t know. The sidebar was self-serve, and I loaded my side plate.
Mike skipped this section and went straight for the meat and pasta. He was having his plate loaded with everything from hamburger sliders to French fries, lasagna, and mac and cheese.
I opted for the Italian trio of lasagna, spaghetti with Alfredo sauce, and chicken parmesan with a red sauce that had always been my favorite at the Olive Garden restaurant.
“Look at all this ketchup!” remarked Mike, when he reached the end of the line. “There must be at least a thousand little packets of it!” he exclaimed.
“This is where all the ketchup has been going every time you used to go through a drive-through and they screwed you on the condiments,” I joked.
“Man, that used to piss me off,” said Mike. “How do you not give out ketchup when someone orders fries? Well, now I know.”
We both laughed at that, and even the server smiled just a bit.
“So, what do you think about our little setup here?” asked the server. He seemed nice enough and not at all official. “It’s great, right?”
“Not if you’re a man, I’m guessing,” said Mike.
“We’re not allowed to talk about that,” the server replied, tightening his facial muscles. “I’m sorry.”
“No worries, friend,” I said, changing the tone and asking his name.
“Bernie,” he said.
“Hi. I’m Lance, and this here is Mike. Who cooks all this great food?”
“I do,” he replied. “Well, me and a few other helpers, but it’s my kitchen.”
“Well, thank you, Bernie, for your hospitality,” I said, as we got our drinks and sat to eat.
The Colonel came back just as we were putting our plates up. “Good chow, huh, boys?”
“Yes, thank you, sir,” I replied.
“I want to show you our hospital before you leave. But first, there’s been a development. Your friend will lose his leg at the hip. It’s the only way, the doctors tell me.
“We need to transfer him to another hospital that specializes in these aggressive surgeries.”
“Where is he going?” Mike asked.
“To Trinidad, where they have the best surgeons in the country. Did you know that Trinidad used to be the number one place in America to have one of those he, she surgeries?” he added.
“Yes, sir. I remember hearing that somewhere,” I replied.
“Their medical staff is spot on with taking things off. We’ll have a chopper transport him within the hour.”
We took a tour through an impressive tent hospital, where they were already tending to our friend.
“He’s still unconscious,” said a nurse, realizing we were with him. “We’re just getting him prepped for transfer.”
“What are his chances?” asked Mike.
“That’s not my place to guess,” she said soberly.
“Can we talk to someone who can?” I asked, trying to sound polite.
“Wait here,” she instructed, as she disappeared behind a heavy gray curtain.
Moments later, a woman in scrubs came out from behind the partition, her white lab coat stained with blood.
“I guess it’s bad,” said Mike, pointing to her coat.
“No. Oh, I’m sorry. We just delivered a healthy baby boy,” the woman said. “The first one of the camps so far,” she added.
“I am sure his father will be happy to see him,” insisted Mike.
“That’s not any of my business,” she replied, nervously looking around.
“I’m Dr. Jenny,” she said, shaking our hands. “Your friend, he’s in bad shape,” she continued. “Infections are difficult to manage in the best of conditions, and even harder now.
“He will probably lose his leg, and I can’t promise he’ll make it through the next few days. We are doing everything we can here, but they are much better equipped for this kind of patient up in Trinidad. He has to want to fight. It’s up to him now.”
“He’s a fighter, for sure,” I added. “Can we see him?”
“Sure,” Dr. Jenny replied. “I’ll give you two just a few minutes,” pulling a part of the curtain back. “Right this way, gentlemen.”
Vlad was still unconscious but looked l
ike he could just be taking an afternoon nap.
“We’re here, buddy,” I said, holding his right hand, “and they’re transferring you up to Trinidad, Colorado, just above David’s place.”
Next World Series (Vol. 2): Families First [The Road] Page 22