Divided We Stand

by C. A. Rudolph

  Dave was in full combat uniform, and his sleeves were pulled all the way down to a pair of faded black hard-knuckle gloves, shrouding his tattoo-covered forearms. He had grown a full beard since the last time Lauren had seen him. It was unruly and coarse, extended nearly to his collar, and it didn’t appear he spent much time grooming it, if at all. A look existed in his eyes, way more momentous and powerful than Lauren could ever remember it before. Dave looked focused, determined, and remarkably intense, as though he was undergoing the foulest portions of another tour of duty, one with an end nowhere in sight.

  After barking orders to several men standing nearby with the same raspy, foreboding voice he’d used to grasp Lauren’s attention so well in the past, Dave trudged over to her.

  He slung a mud-caked M4 over his shoulder, rubbed his chin, and hesitated, taking a lengthy moment to look her over. “Well, I gotta admit. Right about now, I’m at a real loss for words.” Dave’s brows raised into sharp, narrow angles as creases emerged on his dirt-, sweat-, and grease-covered forehead.

  “That makes two of us,” Lauren said, her voice broken, a grin barely noticeable.

  Dave squinted while he eyeballed her like a drill instructor performing an inspection during basic training. “I’m glad you’re alive…but you really look like shit, Janey.”

  Lauren examined herself clumsily. “I know I do.”

  “What in God’s name happened to you?” Dave asked, a distasteful look befalling him. “The last time I saw you, you smelled like a daffodil. Your hair was a little more…salon-styled, and your wardrobe was fresh out of the summer REI catalog. Now you look like you’ve been sifting through a dumpster for the past month.”

  “It’s been more like a year.”

  “What?” Dave asked, squinting his eyes tighter.

  “Dave, please…can we just start over? Stop pretending you’re not glad to see me,” she said, trying hard to gauge his temperament. “You don’t always have to play the hard-ass Point Blank instructor with me. It’s not necessary, especially now.”

  “I’m neither pretending nor playing,” Dave said. “You know me, Janey, I don’t subscribe to either of those notions. Truth is, yes, I’m very glad to see you…glad to see you aboveground, that is. Admittedly though, I’m more surprised to see you than anything else. Add to that, virtually goddamn stupefied…finding you in some derelict, godforsaken shithole like this. I’m sure you can imag—”

  “Please don’t lecture me, okay?” Lauren interrupted, rubbing her temple. “Please? My head is killing me, and I’ve been put through the wringer enough lately.”

  Dave sighed. “Fine. I’ll save it for later, then.”

  Lauren’s eyes softened with gratitude. She pointed beyond. “I see you’ve found some new recruits. Looks like well over a hundred men, give or take, but I haven’t seen anyone I know besides you and Jae.” She hesitated. “Is the original team still around?”

  Dave exhaled to release some tension. Lowering his hands to his waist, he removed his gloves and hooked his thumbs behind his belt, nodding a response.

  “Jae said that Stewie was on another mission with Tim.”

  Dave Graham only nodded again.

  “What about Neo? Is he here?”

  His lower lip protruding, Dave nodded yet again, jutting a thumb over his shoulder. “He’s where he’s happy, where he belongs. Setting up temporary midrange comms in the northern sector, close to the highway.”

  “Santa?”

  “He’s here too, somewhere. I tasked his squad with demo.”

  “Demo of what?”

  “Weapons caches,” Dave growled. “We’ve been finding all sorts of shit…these pricks and others like them have taken custody of entirely too much firepower for their own damn good.”

  Lauren nodded her understanding. “What about Sanchez?”

  Dave gestured his head to the west. “My favorite jarhead? I never leave home without him. He’s probably got eyes on us both as we speak. He’s perched five hundred meters out on the M82, right where he’s happy…right where he belongs.” He paused, taking a few slow, careful steps closer to her. “While we’re on the topic, would you mind conveying to me verbally why you aren’t where you belong? And how in the name of good initiative and bad judgment I happened to find you, of all people, in a hellhole like this so far from home?”

  Lauren didn’t respond immediately. Thoughts of all the days that had passed since the last time she’d been addressed in this manner began to burden her. She turned away at first. “It’s a really long story.”

  “I have no doubt. Lucky for you, we got a little downtime before we mosey out of here.” Dave shuffle stepped, adjusting his stance. “So spill it.”

  Lauren sighed. “No—I mean it’s a really long story, long enough to write a novel about. There’s too many details to cover in one conversation. Besides, I have some pressing items I need to talk to you about.”

  Dave’s eyes danced. “We’re doing everything we can for Fred. Fortunately for us, and at the same time regrettably for his adversaries, I’ve been advised he’s already stabilizing. The man’s a damn enigma. I’m sure he’s going to pull through in due course.”

  Lauren nodded, smiling at the thought of Fred recovering. “Thanks for telling me that. I’m glad he’s in good hands. But—”

  “Tang says you have a concussion,” Dave interjected, switching gears. “What happened? You get hit with something?”

  “Yeah. Something.”

  “Turn around. Let me get a visual.”

  Lauren rolled her eyes and sighed, but did as instructed. Reaching back, she lifted her hair so he could get a better look.

  Dave clicked on a flashlight beam. “I got a medic en route with orders to assess your injury. And, Janey, you’re going to allow him to assess it. Is that understood?”

  Lauren nodded slightly. “Okay.”

  “This doesn’t look good. I’m surprised you’re able to stay upright.”

  “I don’t have a choice in the matter—I have to stay upright. There’s no time for anything else.”

  Dave grimaced. “What do you mean by that?”

  “We have a few dilemmas we’re dealing with at home, Dave. Big ones.”

  “Dilemmas, huh? I suppose those dilemmas were what caused you and Fred and the other folks to end up here?”

  “In part, yes,” Lauren began, turning around. “We’re in urgent need of food, and some of our friends have gotten sick, perhaps terminally. I think they’ve all been poisoned somehow.”

  Dave furrowed his brow. “Poisoned?”

  Lauren nodded. “Yeah, and that’s another story entirely.”

  He minded her gravely, urging her to go on.

  “We were running out of time and options. Fred devised a plan and we went to look for a doctor, but our first attempt came up short. I found some clues that he might’ve relocated to Keyser. So we decided to head out farther, and—”

  “You got ambushed along the way,” Dave said, a repugnant, disgusted tone marking his words.

  Lauren nodded her response.

  Dave huffed. “Christ Almighty, Janey. I know information hasn’t exactly been easy to come by since the world went to hell, but I would’ve expected a fellow former grunt like Fred to do a little recon before taking untrained civilians into a combat zone.”

  “Not all of us are untrained.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “And we didn’t exactly have a lot of time to plan the trip,” Lauren added. “Fred wasn’t enthused at the thought of leaving the valley, either. As far as things go, it’s been relatively safe there.”

  Dave held up a hand. “Wait one. You’re living there now?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Near Perry? Where Fred and Kim live?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, color me conscious. When did that happen? And why?”

  “Yet another story,” said Lauren, trying her best to stay on topic. “We couldn’t just sit there. Fre
d knew it—we all did. Not with lives at stake. And thanks to this little hiccup, it’s probably too late for some of them.”

  Dave folded his arms over his chest once again while he put together the fragmented puzzle of Lauren’s story in his head, and the medic he had summoned appeared to begin diagnosis and treatment. “You can advise me of the details later. I’m guessing there’s something you want from me.”

  “Just a little help.”

  “Specifically?”

  “Jae told me about the mission…and he assumed after today, we could just accompany all of you. But we can’t do that. We have to get back home—as soon as we can…preferably with the help we were looking for.”

  Dave primed his lips. “And by help, you’re referring to the medical persuasion.”

  Lauren nodded affirmation.

  “I can’t spare any of my men, Janey. Especially medical personnel, I’m sorry,” said Dave, his nostrils flaring. “I need every able body I can get right now and then some. I can probably spare a ride to get you back, but even that requires me to utilize personnel I can barely do without.” He paused. “Obviously, I’ll do what I can. But sending away one of my medically trained personnel is out of the question.”

  Lauren hung her head and fretted, paying no mind to the medic tending to her.

  “You really don’t have a clue what’s been going on outside your bubble since the feces hit the fan, do you?”

  “I suppose not.” Lauren frowned, taking a sip from her water bottle. “Like you said, information hasn’t been easy to come by, but after what happened to us, I can wager a guess.”

  Dave rotated away while his medic continued to work. Closing a nostril with a finger, he blew his nose onto the ground. “Our original plans have been placed on an indefinite back burner. We’ve been finding camps like this one peppered all over the Allegheny Highlands and surrounding valleys.” He paused. “Most of the ones we’ve already hit sat within a thirty-mile radius of Cumberland. They’re all basically identical, same type of weirdos running them, and for the most part, utilized for the same purpose.”

  “What? What purpose?”

  “Imprisonment,” replied Dave. “And dehumanization. We’ve come across some forced-labor camps and even some death camps, believe it or not, complete with gallows, guillotines, etcetera. Most of the camps were set up where large stores of food had been discovered nearby, like this one. And usually where there’s trouble-free access to clean or treatable water sources.” Dave took a brief pause. “We’re finding the same ole situation in pretty much all of them. Large groups of well-armed hostiles who’ve taken families from their homes and either killed them or brutalized them and made them prisoners.

  “They’re putting them to work as slave labor, using them for entertainment, and carrying out other inhumanities far worse than that. Consequently, we’ve spent the better part of the past year dealing with them. It’s done a decent job of deferring our original plans. These folks are abominable, the walking, talking embodiment of vile, as you’ve already ascertained. And there’s one god-awful thing they’re doing, something downright demented…even I can’t find the words to describe it.”

  Lauren turned to look Dave in his eyes. “What are you getting at?”

  He sighed exhaustively. “Look around, Janey. You see men and women here, mostly adults. The cage we found you in was full of them.” A pause. “Take a good look. What is it you don’t see?”

  Lauren took a couple of steps away from Dave and his medic, her brow lowering. She dropped her blanket and scanned the scene, the light of daybreak aiding her view. Her eyes met with Dave’s again. “Children.”

  “Yahtzee.”

  The medic instructed Lauren on the symptoms to be wary of after receiving a mild concussion, while Dave listened attentively. After handing her a handful of ibuprofen, he took his leave, passing by a pair of others who approached cautiously.

  While Dave cycled into defensive mode, Lauren recognized one of their visitors as the man who’d become acquainted with Christian’s boot during the assault, the one she could’ve sworn she’d seen somewhere before. He gracefully sauntered over, accompanied by dainty, fair-complected woman with short hair. She held tightly to his hand, an uncertain smile stretched across her face.

  “May I help you?” Dave asked, his hand looming near his sidearm.

  “Pardon me, sir,” the man began in the same mild British accent he’d exposed before. “So sorry to interrupt…but I’d like to offer my sincere gratitude for what you and your men have done for us here today. You’ve saved us, you see. And my wife and I…well, we’re both eternally grateful.”

  “No thanks is required,” said Dave, holding up his free hand while providing about half his attention. “All in a day’s work.”

  “Don’t be so modest! Jolly good show, I might add. Splendid show…just splendid. Never seen anything quite like that before in my life. Beats any New Year’s Eve celebration I’ve experienced before.”

  “Well, we aim to please,” Dave murmured, sounding annoyed. He hesitated, assuming the couple would venture off after a moment of reticence, but they only stood there. “Was there something else?”

  “Yes, sir, actually, there is. Thank you for asking,” the man said awkwardly. “I’m not usually this…abrupt, but we were wondering…if there would be any way we could bother you for…well…”

  “A ride,” the woman beside him said in a soft voice, carrying a similar accent. “What my husband is attempting to request is means of transportation.”

  Dave pursed his lips, glancing to Lauren. “Must be contagious,” he said, becoming more exasperated. “Where to, exactly?”

  “Keyser,” the man said, a look of excitement overtaking him. “Potomac Valley Hospital, to be more specific. We’re both employed there, you see.”

  “I didn’t know there were any hospitals still in operation,” said Dave.

  “Oh well, perhaps employed isn’t the suitable word. The hospital itself as a whole is far from operational, so I suppose that would make you correct. We do indeed work there, though, and have actually managed to maintain a small clinic, though it hasn’t been easy,” the man explained. “We’ve been doing so with what you might call a skeleton crew, and if it weren’t for the photovoltaics we salvaged to run our wing, we’d be sorely lost.”

  “Wait a second, you’re a doctor?” Lauren probed, unable to keep her silence.

  “Well,” the man said in a chuckle, “we certainly aren’t janitors.”

  Dave muttered under his breath. “That remains to be seen.”

  “Sorry, dear. Only pulling your leg.” The man held out a hand, presenting his wife with a smile. “Actually, we both are. And I do apologize for our disarray. Allow me to introduce my wife, Dr. Pamela Vincent, the only practicing obstetrician for perhaps hundreds of miles.”

  The woman stepped hesitantly forward to shake Dave Graham’s stubborn hand.

  Lauren pushed impulsively past the man’s wife and up to him. “Wait…Vincent? As in James Vincent?”

  “Why, yes. I’m sorry, do we know one another?”

  “Are you Dr. James Vincent of Wardensville?”

  The husband and wife physicians glanced at one another and shared a laugh. “Bizarre…I don’t look that old, do I?” He turned to Lauren. “No, no, my dear. Not quite. I’m afraid you’re referring to my father, James Wilson Vincent, the general practitioner. We are not one and the same, but we do, however, bear the same name.” He held out his hand to her. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am James Vincent the second. But please, call me Jim.”

  Lauren shook his hand while trying to find the right words to express her conclusions. “You both were in the cage with us, weren’t you?”

  Dr. Vincent nodded. “Why yes, as a matter of fact we were. And before you say anything else, my dear, let me intercede by expressing my deepest apologies. We are both very sorry about your friend and for what happened to him. It was taxing for us to stand b
y and watch it ensue. We would have done something to help, but I’m sorry to say we were afraid to act. We’ve witnessed nightmarish things happening to doctors as of late, you see. Several of our friends and colleagues were captured from the clinic not long before we were…and some ghastly things happened to them. My wife made me swear not to say or do anything that might give up our true identities.” Dr. Vincent turned to his wife as she urged him on with her eyes. “Alas, that was then, and this is now. We saw the men take your friend with them…where is he now? If it wouldn’t be imposing, we would like to offer our professional assistance.”

  While Dave gave the doctor and his wife the information needed to find the temporary field hospital, Lauren recalled why the doctor had seemed so familiar to her before. She had seen the couple’s faces in a photo frame mounted to a wall in Dr. Vincent’s home only days before.

  The letter.

  While watching Dr. Vincent and his wife caper away, she was reminded of the letter left behind by his father and what she had done with it. Initially, Lauren had returned it to the table. Then, for some reason, she had decided to keep it, folding it up and placing it in her back pocket just before vacating the residence.

  She unsnapped her back pocket and felt for it. It was still there.

  Letter in her grasp, Lauren intercepted Dr. Vincent. She handed it to him while his wife closed in, gazing upon both Lauren and the letter with curiosity and concern. “Dr. Vincent, a few days ago we stopped by your father’s home in Wardensville, and I found this letter,” she said. “I decided to take it with me for some reason. Strangely enough, I think I know why now.”

  Stunned by Lauren’s admission at first, Dr. Vincent scanned the letter as his brows drew together and his form started showing signs of grief. Moments later, after finishing the note, he handed it to his wife while he wiped his tears away, looking to Lauren. “Have you read this?”

  She nodded, her lips pressed together.

  “Father always told me if anything bad ever happened and we didn’t make it to his estate, he would try to rendezvous with us in Keyser at some point,” Dr. Vincent said, wiping his nose with the blanket provided to him by Dave’s men. “He had plans for us all, you see. Long-term provisions and the means to protect ourselves from harm. He was one of those survivalist types like you’ve probably seen on television. Suppose I’ll never know what happened to him now, after all this time. At least I know poor Mother has been laid to rest and her pain is finally over.” He paused. “God rest her.”