“As they were leaving, they noticed smoke above the trees in the direction of Mathers Lake, which is one of the residential areas not owned by the resort.” The guests were now rapt with attention. “More people means survivors. I think we should investigate. Jim, Tom, what do you think?”
Tom was quick to reply. “The city services are stretched to the limit, Allex, we really can’t take any more in.”
“Tom, I appreciate your concern, but anyone up there won’t need help. I’m sure they’re doing just fine. I was thinking more along the lines of a trade route. They’ve got lakes untouched by the ash for fishing and herds of animals.”
“And what do we have to trade?” Amanda asked.
“A doctor,” I smiled at my husband. “And limited dairy products; and beer. There could be more, and until we find out what they need or want it’s hard to speculate.”
Colonel Andrews had been really quiet during this conversation up until now.
“When do you plan on going there, Allex? I’d like to come along as extra security. In fact, I’d like to bring a few of my most trusted soldiers. Only a few, mind you; you don’t know what may be waiting for you.”
“I think Jim has a valid point, Allex. I know I would feel better with him along,” Mark stated. “Especially if you plan on trading me.”
“I would never trade you, Mark,” I took his hand in mind. “Only some of your services.” I grinned.
“So when is this expedition planned for?” Tom asked.
Just then, Emilee stood and declared she was still hungry and wanted dessert. She went over to the counter where under a towel, she had hidden her treat.
“It’s a focaccia,” she announced. “It’s got brown sugar and cinnamon on the top and rhubarb and raspberry jam in the middle.”
Eric did the honors of slicing it like a pizza, giving everyone a crusty piece.
CHAPTER 14
September 9
“Mom, where’s Dr. Mark? Jacob is really sick!” Eric said, bursting in the side door.
“On the deck, I’ll get him.” I turned to find Mark already coming in the back door.
“What’s wrong with Jacob?” Mark asked, grabbing his doctor bag/purse and followed Eric and me out the door.
“He says his tummy hurts real bad, like he has to poop,” Eric replied as we hurried across the brown grass. “I remember when I had appendicitis I thought I had bad gas.”
Mark gave me a sideways glance. I knew that look to mean something serious.
Jacob was curled up on his side on the couch in the living room, crying. It broke my heart to hear him in such pain.
“Hey there big guy,” Mark sat down next to him. “Where does it hurt?”
“I’m not a big guy, I’m a little guy,” Jacob whimpered. “It hurts here.” He pointed at his belly button region.
“Okay, let me see, Jacob,” Mark’s voice was gentle and kind. Jacob moved his hands, and Mark examined his skin on the lower right side, feeling around. “That was good. We’re going to go over to Nahna’s house and I’m going to make you feel better. Is that okay with you?” Jacob nodded through dark, wet lashes.
“Jason, wrap him up in a blanket and bring him over – quickly. Carry him, don’t use the wagon. I don’t think he could stand the jostling.” Mark turned to me and said, “I’m almost certain it’s his appendix; his belly is swollen and distended. I hope it hasn’t ruptured yet! We need to do surgery immediately.”
We?
~~~
I quickly set up the massage table that had been used more for medical purposes than massages lately. I spritzed the vinyl down with bleach and wiped it with one of the sterile washcloths I’ve started to keep handy. I even laid out a few of the red cloths, though I doubted we would need them.
While Mark set up the table with his surgical tools, I brought the two standing lamps that we had used for Eric’s surgery, and made sure they had the brightest bulbs possible. The table was ready with sheets and blankets when Jason arrived carrying a very sick Jacob and laid him down on the fresh linens.
“Okay, my little guy, I have to give you a shot. I know you don’t like shots, I don’t like them either, but it will make the pain go away,” Mark said softly. “I want you to watch your daddy and not me. That’s good.” Mark injected the anesthesia, and soon, Jacob was asleep.
I helped Mark glove and gown and then did my own. I tied his mask, then my own, then one on Jason.
“Jason, you can stay, though you might not want to watch this,” Mark warned my son. He began to work by swabbing Jacob’s belly with the povidone-iodine solution.
The delicate work took less than a half hour, and was completed before the organ ruptured. Mark had worked very quickly.
When Mark finished the stitches and pulled his mask down, Jason let out a sob of relief.
“Will he need blood?” I asked.
“No, there really was very little loss. I’d like to keep him here and sedated until the morning. Jason, he’s a lucky little boy. Good thing you caught this so quickly. You’re staying, right?”
“Of course I am, but I need to let Amanda know he’s going to be alright.” Jason swallowed hard. “Thank you, Doctor, thank you!” He turned away before we could see his tears of relief.
While my grandson slept peacefully on the surgical table, I made up the futon for him, and put a mattress on the floor for Jason.
I wrapped my arms around my husband’s neck. “Thank you for saving him. He would have died if you hadn’t been here.” Mark tightened his grip on me and sighed heavily.
“I won’t say this in front of Jason, but it was touch and go there for a few minutes. It almost ruptured, and then we might have lost him. In a surgical suite, it would have been different, with all the equipment to wash out the poisons that would have resulted in peritonitis. We don’t have that luxury anymore.”
With limited supplies, we’ve gotten into the practice of immediately re-sterilizing everything; we never knew when it might be needed again. The scalpels were boiled and the sheets were washed in bleach. I folded up the table and put the lights away. What would we have done if there wasn’t any power? I know we have the generator, but what will we do when there is no more gas?
Weary as we both were, we sat with Jason for an hour when he returned.
September 10
“Our emergency surgery yesterday has got me thinking about my medical bag,” Mark commented over a second cup of coffee. Jason and a sleepy Jacob had left less than an hour ago.
“What about your bag? I thought you said it was sufficient.”
“Oh, it is, for most situations. However, if we couldn’t get someone back here and I had to do an emergency procedure wherever we were, I wouldn’t have enough. I need a bigger bag.” He looked thoughtfully into his cup. “Do you have a backpack or something similar?”
“I think it’s time to bring out the medic kit.” I went to the front pantry to retrieve the large, stuffed pack and set it on the table, watching Mark’s quizzical look turn into a grin.
“You never cease to amaze me, Allex. How did you come by this? Never mind, it doesn’t matter.” He started unzipping pockets and opening Velcro pouches.
“I know you’ll want to make changes, add some things, and remove some. Let me know what I can do.” It was like watching a kid opening presents.
He opened everything. Some of the items he put back in after examining, others he spread out on the table. One of the first things he set off to the side was a package of more scalpels.
“Why are you leaving out the extra scalpels?” I asked.
“I’m not going to leave them out, however, I don’t trust the packaging and want to re-sterilize everything possible: scalpels, forceps, and clamps, everything metal.” He looked up. “You don’t mind do you? It’s not that I don’t trust what you’ve purchased, it’s just… caution.”
“Of course I don’t mind, Mark. Do whatever you feel needs to be done. Is the bag going to be big enough no
w?”
“Oh, yes! This will hold four times what the purse held,” he said. “I don’t want to do away with the black bag, Allex, I’ve gotten rather attached to it. However, this will definitely be more practical in the long run. So I have to ask: where did you get this?”
“It was one of those items that caught my attention while I was doing some online shopping a year or so ago. I had already set up the purse thing, but that duffle really called to me. It wasn’t cheap, but now I’m glad I got it. And you won’t have to be embarrassed about hauling around a purse.”
“Hey, that’s not just any purse, that’s a bad-ass, brass-studded purse!” Mark joked.
I got out one of my larger cooking pots, and filled it with filtered water, setting it to boil so the new instruments could be sterilized. Once the pot was filled, I boiled it for a half hour and then let it cool. I gloved and removed the items with some tongs I had also set in the boiling water and laid everything out on a bleached towel. Mark joined me in repackaging the instruments, and then he found room for them in his new duffle.
CHAPTER 15
September 12
Colonel Andrews arrived promptly at 10:00 AM with six young and not so young men and women as part of his trusted core group. I was a bit nervous at first with having agreed to this escort, however, all of his group, himself included, were dressed in civilian clothes to not be so obvious to anyone we came across.
“Good morning, Jim.”
“Good morning, Ms. Smeth,” he smiled back. “Where’s the doctor?”
“He’ll be here in a few minutes. He had to perform an emergency appendectomy on Jacob two days ago, and wanted to check him over before we all left.”
“The little guy alright?” he sounded alarmed.
“He is now, but Jason and Amanda will be staying behind today, along with Joshua and Emilee.”
“Sanders, you and Perkins stay here for additional guard duty. Go across to that house and introduce yourselves, then make yourselves invisible.” Colonel Andrews turned back to me, “Any objections, ma’am?”
“None at all, and thank you,” I said.
“Let me introduce you to the rest of my crew. They are all handpicked for their expertise and loyalty. Step forward with name and rank!”
The first one stepped forward. “Specialist Tony Ramirez.”
“Specialist Carol Midler.”
“Corporal Chuck Wilders.”
“Sargent Jones.”
The Colonel didn’t hide his grin very well as he addressed the last one. “Come on, Jones, you might as well get it over with.”
She gave him a very un-military glare and said “Sargent Rayn Jones.”
“All of it.”
Her eyes straight ahead, she repeated, “Sargent Rayn Bow Jones, ma’am.”
Even as I smiled at the name, I couldn’t draw my eyes away from this exotic beauty. She stood about five feet three, petite and well-muscled, and had silky short cropped hair that was so dark brown it was almost black. Her skin was the color of caramelized honey and her eyes were an unusual translucent gray with the slightest tilt. I could tell Eric was caught by her stunning looks, too.
“That’s an unusual name, Sgt. Jones. Is there a story behind it?” I smiled at her, hoping to put her at ease. She glanced at her superior officer who gave her the slightest nod of his head.
“Yes, ma’am,” she replied with a sigh. “My grandparents are Egyptian, Native American, Caucasian, and Japanese. Black, red, white and yellow: A rainbow. My parents were hippies. They couldn’t resist.”
“Well, I think your heritage is a remarkable blend. You’re a beautiful young lady. And apparently my son thinks so too.” I turned to Eric. “Stop staring at her!” They both blushed.
“Well, now that we’ve got that over with, shall we get going?” Colonel Andrews said when Mark joined us.
“Did I miss something?”
“I’ll tell you later,” I whispered to him.
~~~
The drive up to the gate that marked the entrance to the resort property was only fifteen minutes, but that was only half of the journey. From the gate to the compound was another five miles, though we wouldn’t be going in that direction once inside, at least not yet.
“The chain has been put back in place, Mom, but there’s no lock this time,” Eric commented.
“Maybe they’re expecting a return visit,” I thought out loud as the first Hummer nudged the gate open and we passed through.
A quarter of a mile in, another road veered off to the right heading toward Mathers Lake, and a few hundred yards from there was another gate. The Hummers came to a stop and we all got out.
The Colonel looked at the chain and locks carefully, and then swung the gate open.
“It wasn’t locked,” he stated.
A shot rang out, and all the military hit the ground and rolled behind the trucks. Mark and I dashed behind an open truck door. Another shot, clearly a warning.
I was starting to get pissed off. “Stop shooting at us! We haven’t done anything to you!” “Allexa?” came a voice from behind a cluster of bushes. As he peered out, the sun glinted off his thick glasses.
“Lenny?” I stepped out from the protection of the heavy truck. Mark grabbed my arm but I shook him off.
Lenny made his way toward the road, rifle lowered. “I didn’t know it was you. What are you doing here?”
“Oh, Lenny!” I stepped closer to him. “We thought you and Pete had been taken by those rogue soldiers, maybe even killed! I’m so glad to see you!” It was hard to contain my excitement. Our friends were alive! “What happened back then?”
“Well, we heard those soldiers coming back. They sure weren’t being very quiet. We had just put that venison on to cook, so we covered it and hid behind the next house over, where the tree line starts. I guess they could smell the meat cooking, because they zeroed right in on us. They went through the house, then took the meat and kicked over the grill.”
“Oh, we thought maybe you did that, to let us know you didn’t go willingly,” Mark said.
“Nope. We left it like that in case they came back though. We saw you come and put out the fire. Once you left, we went back to the house, got our rifles where we had hidden them, and came up here.”
“I’m so glad you’re safe, Lenny. Where’s Pete?” I asked.
“He’s inside at the compound. He’s really sick – got some kind of infection.”
“Maybe I can help,” Mark offered.
“That would be great, only…” Lenny hesitated, “…it’s a pretty tight group that’s here now, and the head guy doesn’t like strangers. He’s got real strict rules about that.”
“He sounds like the person we want to talk with then. Will you take us to him?” I asked.
All of us got back into the vehicles, and followed Lenny down the twisting dirt road. A mile later he turned left, and shortly after that I could see the water of Mathers Lake shimmering ahead. There were a few cottages along the ragged shoreline, but mostly larger, year-round structures. It was very secluded, and a few lucky souls had found a perfect retreat.
I hadn’t thought before to ask Jim how well armed his men were, though it seemed prudent to do so now before we stopped.
“Each one has their M-4, plus two side arms and various knives, and trust me, they know how to use all of them,” he informed me. “And you?”
“I have a 9mm Kel-Tec in my shoulder holster and Mr. Krause’s knife in my boot,” I replied. “I’m not sure what Ken and Karen are carrying, though I’m sure it’s substantial.”
Lenny pulled up to one of the nicer houses, a log A-frame with a wide porch, with several trucks parked in front. The colonel twisted the steering wheel and backed up, facing outward. The other driver did the same; a quick escape maneuver. Everyone emerged at once, and we waited while Lenny went inside. Only a few moments passed before a young, dark haired man appeared in the doorway. He looked in his mid to late thirties, fit and well fed.
“Good morning. I’m Arthur Collins. I run this place, what can I do for you?” His voice was soft, firm and held little emotion. “Before you go on, understand we do not welcome visitors here. Leonard has violated our security and will be dealt with for that.”
“Good morning. I’m Allexa Smeth, from Moose Creek. This is my husband, Dr. Mark Robbins; my friend Jim Andrews, and a few of our group,” I stated, intentionally not informing him of Eric being my son, though Lenny knew this. “I understand you have one of our friends here, Pete, and that he’s quite ill. My husband would like to see him, and treat him if he can. And before you punish Lenny, understand he knows us, and he knows we mean no harm to your group whatsoever. Besides, we already knew you were here.”
“I will take that into consideration.” He turned to Mark. “What kind of doctor are you?”
“An M.D., general practice.” Mark kept his voice calm, though I could tell he was nervous.
Collins nodded and looked back at me. “You couldn’t have known Pete was injured until you arrived, so I’m asking again: why are you here?”
I had anticipated this question when we first decided to make contact.
“Honestly, we wanted to make contact with other survivors,” I said. “Plus, we were wondering if you were interested in establishing some kind of trade between our two groups.”
“What do you want from us?”
“Only the right to hunt and fish occasionally without being challenged, plus anything you might be interested in trading,” I shrugged my shoulders.
The Journal: Crimson Skies: (The Journal Book 3) Page 10