Escaping Home

by A. American

  Mary’s teeth were clenched. “We should have gotten on the chainsaw.”

  “It shouldn’t be this hard! Look at them; they’re doing it,” Jess said, jutting her chin toward the other two women cutting lengths.

  Mary looked over, still pushing on the saw. “What are they doing differently?”

  As they watched the other two women, Singer walked up. “Is this all you’ve done so far?” she snarled, pointing to the two pieces lying in front of the sawbucks.

  “We’re trying, but the saw is stuck,” Jess said.

  “Well, if your friend would stop pushing, the saw would move, geniuses. It’s simple.”

  Mary let up and Jess jerked the saw through the log. At the end of the stroke, the saw stopped. The team leader pointed at Mary. As if talking to a toddler, she said, “Now you pull it.”

  Mary pulled the saw back through the log. Jess held on to her end of the saw and let it slide through the log.

  “Got it now?”

  Neither of them answered; they simply kept working the saw.

  “Good, now speed up,” the team leader said as she walked away.

  “I’d like to shove that clipboard up her ass.” Jess muttered.

  At lunchtime, a side-by-side ATV pulled up to the work area with two kitchen workers. In the bed was a stack of trays. This was how most meals were served, on heavy molded detention-grade food trays. As each woman approached the ATV she was handed a tray and a cup. Her ID badge was scanned with a small PDA-type device before she was allowed to find a place in the sand to sit and eat. The lunch was a serving of beans, some sort of cooked greens and a handful of dried apples. To wash it down was some sort of purple drink.

  Jess took a drink from the cup and made a sour face. Mary saw her and started to laugh.

  “What, you don’t like grape drank?” Mary asked.

  “Drank?”

  “Yeah, in the hood they call it grape drank. There’s also orange drank and red drank,” Mary said with a smile.

  Jess shook her head. “Who are you trying to kid? You’re not from the hood.” She laughed as she choked down the rest of the beverage.

  “Hey, you lived on campus! There’s some rough dorms there.”

  Jess laughed at that one too. “Maybe at University of Florida, but at FSU we didn’t have any hood dorms, or drank, for that matter.”

  Mary laughed as she tried to swallow a bite of the greens.

  Jess stretched her legs out and leaned back on her hands, staring out into the distance. From the small hill they were on they could see over most of the camp. Mary finished her lunch and asked, “What are you thinking about?”

  “Nothing, everything.” She sat there gazing off. “Did you ever imagine anything like this, that your life would end up like this?”

  “What? With the world coming to an end?”

  Jess rocked her feet back and forth. “It didn’t come to an end, not in the way that I was taught in Sunday School anyway, but I guess it is an end, sort of.”

  Mary laughed. “Yeah, there ain’t no fire and brimstone, but it’s the end.”

  “It doesn’t have to be; we could see it as a new beginning.” The corners of her mouth dropped and her expression changed. “If we weren’t here, being treated like slaves.”

  “Slaves? We ain’t pickin’ cotton!”

  Jess looked over. “Are you free to leave? Can you go to the bathroom without having to ask for permission? We can’t do anything for ourselves; we’re forced to work with no say in what happens. If we aren’t slaves, then what are we?” Their conversation was cut short by the team leader.

  “All right, ladies, lunch is over. I told you it’d be short; you can thank your friend for that,” the team leader shouted, looking over at Donna.

  Mary groaned. “Ready for that saw?”

  Chapter 8

  We turned onto the paved road and headed toward Altoona. Sarge was hauling ass and we were up to fifty-five in no time. Taylor had her hand stuck out the window surfing it in the rushing air. I smiled. It had been a long time since she’d left the house like this.

  As we approached the only store open for business, Sarge slowed a bit. There were people there, though nowhere near as many as the last time we had shopped there. The little market was still in operation, with people milling around looking at items laid out on blankets in the parking lot. We drove by so fast it was hard to see the offerings, but the animals were easy enough to see. Chickens, a pig, a couple of horses and some other livestock were in cages or tied to posts.

  “You reckon they still have gas?” Sarge called over the radio.

  “I’m sure they do. We can check on the way back,” I replied.

  Taylor looked over. “We’re going to the store on the way back?”

  “Yeah, but it ain’t like the old days. No big sodas or anything in there now.”

  “Place looks a little shady to me,” Doc said.

  “Know what I didn’t see?” I asked. Taylor looked over and I could see Doc look up in the rearview mirror.

  “What?” Doc asked.

  “Any DHS guys. Did you?”

  Doc looked back out the window. “No, kinda strange.”

  “Who’s the DHS?” Taylor asked.

  I had to catch myself—I almost answered Dick Head Society. I explained who they were to her, holding back my coarse language but letting her know my real feelings.

  “Aren’t they supposed to help us? Isn’t that what they are for?”

  “In theory,” Doc said, “but in reality they are like the Secret Police.”

  “You mean like the Brown Shirts?”

  Doc looked quizzically at her, then at me. I shrugged. “We like history; she knows who they are,” I said.

  “Yeah, just like the Brown Shirts.”

  We turned onto Highway 42 and Sarge picked up the speed again. Except for the lack of cars on the road, this little trip seemed so normal. We passed a couple of people walking toward the store and occasionally saw people sitting outside their homes. Smoke rose from every house that had a chimney or stack. A fireplace or woodstove was a valuable thing now. Soon we were passing Clear Lake and turning off the paved road.

  “Keep yer eyes open,” Sarge said as the buggy bounced onto the dirt road.

  We crawled along, keeping an eye on the woods on either side. Due to the season and the fact that there was a wildfire here last year, there was almost no underbrush, just the scarred trunks of oaks and sand pines.

  “Are these cabins nice?” Taylor asked.

  I smiled and looked over at her. “Compared to sleeping in a tent, they are.”

  She smiled back. “Ooh, like camping!”

  “Huh, yeah, camping’s fun for a weekend, but as a lifestyle, I’ll pass.”

  She looked out the window. “I still think it’ll be fun.”

  “You would; you also liked when that hurricane knocked the power out for a week.”

  She started to laugh. “That was fun too!”

  “You’re a weird-ass kid,” Doc said, causing me to laugh.

  Sarge called over the radio, “Doc, we’re going to stop up here so you can check a little girl out.”

  “Roger that.”

  “We ran across them on our first trip out here. The guy said his daughter was pretty ill,” I told Doc.

  “Probably bad water. Kills more people than anything else in the world.”

  More houses started to come into view. As we passed them, you could sense that they were empty, sitting dark and silent off the road. Ahead, smoke could be seen coming from a lone house. Sarge pulled up into the driveway and stopped at a house with a wraparound porch. On it, I could see a burly older man and a couple of other young guys, probably around Taylor’s age.

  “How’s the young’n?” Sarge asked the older man as he slamm
ed the door shut.

  “She still ain’t doin’ so well. This yer doc?”

  “Indeed he is; point him in the right direction an’ he’ll take a look at her.”

  “Come on in, Doc. Amy’ll take you to her.”

  Doc went up onto the porch, where he was met by a gaunt-looking blonde woman.

  “What’s yer name, friend?” Sarge asked the man.

  The man took a couple steps down and stuck out his hand. “Name’s Chase Fuller. That over there is my son, Chris,” he said, nodding over to one of the teenagers.

  “Linus Mitchell,” Sarge said as he shook his hand, “an’ that there’s Morgan, Jeff an’ Mike.” Sarge pointed each of us out.

  We all nodded in acknowledgment of the introductions.

  Amy led Doc down a hallway and opened a door into a bedroom. There was a poster of Justin Bieber hanging on the wall and beneath it, a young girl of twelve or thirteen was lying in the bed. She was covered with only a sheet and was sweating profusely.

  “This is Elizabeth,” Amy said as they entered, then looking at the girl she said, “Elizabeth, this is a doctor. He’s come to see you.”

  Doc went and knelt beside the bed and moved a bucket that contained what could only be watery excrement.

  “How long’s she been like this?” he asked, pulling on a pair of nitrile gloves.

  “’Bout a week now.”

  “Is she drinking anything?”

  “Some.”

  As Doc ran a temporal thermometer across the girl’s forehead he asked, “What’re you giving her?”

  “Only thing we have is water.”

  “Where’s it coming from?”

  “I think they get it from the creek.”

  “Are you boiling it?”

  “Most times; it’s usually really clean, though.”

  Doc looked at the girl and smiled. “Hi, Elizabeth, how you feelin’?”

  The girl looked up at him. He could see the fear in her eyes. “Bad. I feel like I’m going to die.”

  Doc took her hand and gave it a light squeeze. “It may feel like it, but we aren’t going to let that happen, okay?” She nodded back at him.

  “I’m going to give your hand a little pinch, not trying to hurt you, all right?” She nodded back at him. Doc pinched the skin on the top of her hand, and when he let go the small fold of skin remained, ever so slowly retracting. Doc’s brow wrinkled up, and he looked at Elizabeth with a smile and asked, “Are you scared of needles?”

  “A little.”

  Doc took an IV set from his bag, opening the plastic bag it was sealed in. “Right now we really need to use one.” He looked back at Amy. “Mom, can you come over and sit on the bed with her?”

  Amy moved around the bed and sat down. Elizabeth quickly took her hand.

  “You just talk to Mom for a minute and this will be over quick,” he said as he pulled a bag of ringers out of the pack and connected it to the infusion set.

  Doc wrapped a wide rubber strap around her arm and started tapping the fold of her arm looking for a vein. Once he found it he said, “Hang on, here comes the stick.” He inserted the needle and quickly secured the catheter, keeping it in place with a piece of tape. Doc pulled out a tack and pinned the bag to the wall, then quickly opened the valve to full flow.

  “That wasn’t too bad, was it?”

  Elizabeth looked over. “Is it done?”

  “Uh-huh. You lie here an’ get some rest,” Doc said, then looked at Amy. “Mom, can you come with me for a sec?”

  Amy told her daughter she would be back soon and they left the room. Amy followed Doc out to the porch, where everyone else was talking. As they came out Sarge looked up and asked, “How is she, Doc?”

  “Let’s talk down here,” Doc said as he stepped off the porch. Chase and Amy followed as everyone else moved a little closer. “She’s pretty sick, running a high fever. I gave her something for the fever and have her on an IV to get some fluids in her. She is seriously dehydrated. I also gave her something for the diarrhea.”

  “Is she going to be all right? What’s wrong with her?” Amy asked.

  “It’s not that bad; she probably got something from the water.” Doc paused and looked at Amy and Chase. “Just ’cause it looks clean doesn’t mean it is.” He slung his pack off his shoulder and dug around inside it, coming out with a pill bottle. “Here, give her one of these three times a day until they are gone. She’ll be fine in a couple of days.”

  Amy took the pills, looking at the bottle. Chase was looking over her shoulder. “What is it?”

  “That stuff will take care of bacteria and protozoa,” Doc said.

  “You got any soap, Chase?” Sarge asked.

  “Naw, we been outta soap; we even went through the abandoned houses and got what was there.”

  “Got any bleach?” Doc asked.

  “We do have some of that,” Amy answered.

  “You need to make sure everyone washes their hands. Since you don’t have soap, make a strong bleach solution and have everyone rinse their hands in it before eating. You also need to add some to your drinking water or boil it for about two minutes,” Doc said.

  Amy wrapped her arms around Doc’s neck. “I can’t thank you enough,” she said as tears ran down her face.

  Doc tried to peel her off him. “No problem, I am glad to help. Really, it’s okay.”

  She finally released him, to his obvious relief. “I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

  “Just make sure to boil your water, clean your hands before handling food or water. When that bag is empty you can take the catheter out and put a Band-Aid on her arm.”

  Jeff was giggling and leaned over. “I guess ole Doc isn’t the touchy-feely type.”

  With a chuckle I replied, “Looks that way.”

  Even though I didn’t know the girl, I knew she was somewhere between Lee Ann and Little Bit’s ages, and I would certainly want all the help in the world I could get for them if they were sick. I went to the truck and pulled out my pack. Nowadays, you didn’t go anywhere without a pack and a couple days of supplies. Digging around the bag, I found the small hygiene kit and took out the half bar of soap wrapped in a sandwich bag. Going back over to the group, I tossed the bar to Chase.

  “It isn’t much, but it will help out for now. Next time we come back, I’ll bring you more.”

  Chase handed the bar to Amy. “Appreciate it. You guys headed down to the creek?”

  I nodded and Sarge answered him, “These guys are,” jutting a thumb in Mike and Jeff’s direction. “Seen anyone around there?”

  “I ain’t. Ask them boys, though; they spend more time runnin’ around than I do,” Chase said as he nodded his head toward the three boys sitting on an old wire spool under an oak tree.

  We all turned to look at them, and like typical teenage boys, they looked at one another nervously, wondering why all the adults were looking at them.

  “Mike, you an’ Jeff go over an’ see what they know about the area,” Sarge said.

  Mike and Jeff headed toward the group of kids, who tried hard to act uninterested in their approach.

  “Hey, guys,” Mike said as he stuck his thumbs under the edge of his body armor.

  “’Sup?” the kid with the skull knit cap replied.

  “You guys get down to the creek much?”

  “Sometimes. We go to fish an’ shit.”

  “Ever seen anyone down there, anything weird?”

  The kid cut a half smile and jutted a thumb at the boy beside him. “Just Arny here; he’s pretty weird.”

  While Mike was talking to them, I pulled Taylor aside. “You know any of these kids?”

  “Yeah, the one with the skull thingy on his head.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “Skater punk,
talks a lot about getting high.”

  I nodded my head, looking in their direction.

  Mike and Jeff came back over and we quickly said good-bye and headed back to the vehicles. In short order, we were headed down the road again. Taylor was looking out the window once again but quickly put it up because of the clouds of dust being kicked up by Sarge. After about a mile Sarge called on the radio and told me to take the lead.

  Chapter 9

  As they were waiting in line to turn in their trays, Mary asked Jess if she was going to try to see her brother after work today.

  “Yeah, I didn’t get to yesterday.”

  “How’s he been?” Mary asked as she set her tray on the stack.

  Jess shook her head. “Not good. They say he needs treatment they can’t provide.” Mary smiled sympathetically and patted Jess on the arm.

  “Enough with the chitchat! Back to work, everyone.” Singer was standing at the back of the ATV watching as everyone turned in their trays.

  Jess and Mary headed back to their saw.

  “I hate that bitch,” Jess said, more to herself than to anyone in particular.

  “She’s a special kind of fucked up,” another voice said from behind her.

  Jess and Mary both turned to look over their shoulder to see a tall woman with short blonde hair and a devious grin on her face.

  She continued on, “Where do they find these people? Everyone here is an ass.” She sped up a little so she was beside them and continued, “How long have you guys been here?”

  “A couple of weeks. Jess has been here a little longer than me,” Mary said.

  The woman smiled. “Nice! I’m Fred, by the way.”

  Mary extended a hand. “Hey, Fred. I’m Mary.”

  Jess looked at Fred. “Fred? That’s different.”

  “My real name is Alexis, but my dad always called me Fred.”

  Jess laughed. “Bet that caused some problems when you were a kid.”

  “Yeah, everyone thought I was a boy till they met me.”

  When they reached the sawbucks, Mary picked up the saw and laid it back into the log they were cutting before lunch. Fred was still chattering away when Mary saw Singer heading their way. In a hushed voice she said, “Fred, you better go.”