by Glyn Gardner
He waved his hand across the map. “That means anyone lands down there and our little defense force is going to have to assault through wooded terrain to clean ‘em out. It’ll get bloody real fast. I’m not planning on losing anyone. Are you?”
A smile crossed the younger soldier’s face. He had been right to turn over leadership to this man. “So, what do you propose?”
Terence turned to a map taped to a wall behind him. “The Coast Guard,” he said. “Somewhere on this coast is a Coast Guard station that still has a boat or two tied up. Those Coast Guard boats are going to have surface search radar. We get a few of those patrolling around the island. Until then, we do it the old fashioned way. Patrol boats with the old Mark 1 eyeball. Once we secure the sea lanes, the only way at us is down a long and narrow bridge.”
He drew a finger over the long narrow bridge connecting the Island to the mainland. “Here’s what we’re going to do tomorrow…”
Day 41
Gulf Port, MS
This time it was Kerry who eased the Sea Witch into the shallows of Gulf Port. The hull made a soft grinding noise as the she beached the craft. One hundred yards away, on the road was the big Ford pickup and the Orange Jeep.
Her passengers leapt from the boat, splashing in the knee deep water. Jackson and Theresa, as usual, led the way to the vehicles. Terence, Lt. Brown, Jen, and Harold rounded out the passenger manifest. Terence wanted Lt. Brown to introduce him to the men and women of the Haven.
She watched as the two vehicles drove slowly from the sand and across the blacktop. Her CB radio burst to life as Theresa tried to contact Roy. She never heard his response. Once the team had reached the vehicles, Kerry moved the Sea Witch into deeper water. She assumed she was out of range of the Haven.
She looked to her left. Sam sat in quietly, black rifle pointing outward. He’d been very quiet since Frank died. She tried to remember the day they had met Sam.
She and her group had been brought in by a young man who had slammed his car into one of the vehicles that her group had commandeered. Unfortunately for the boy, Sam’s only daughter was in the passenger seat of that car and did not survive the wreck. When they arrived at the fire station with the injured boy, Sam had launched into a furious rage. When Frank had died, he had slipped into a deep depression. She had tried to make him talk about it. He merely shrugged. “Later,” he’d say.
Theresa had tried several more times to reach the Haven. There was still no answer. She shrugged. Maybe they had their CB turned off or something.
A few minutes later, she was sure that was absolutely not the problem. As they rounded the corner, she could see a large column of smoke rising in the distance. She knew from their last visit that the smoke was coming from the Haven. Her heart skipped a beat.
Jackson too had realized where the smoke was coming from. The truck lurched forward as he jammed his foot on the gas. She looked back. The Jeep was lagging behind, but only slightly.
As they crossed the railroad tracks 100 yards from the Haven, they were forced to stop. There, in front of them, car after was lined bumper to bumper along the east-west running road, completely impeding north-south traffic.
A large man with a blue tee-shirt and brown cargo pants immerged from behind one of the cars. He held a black rifle in one hand. The other was held near his mouth. Jen assumed he was talking to someone with a walkie-talkie or something. After a moment, he put a small black object into his pocket and climbed over one of the cars.
“Sergeant Brown,” he asked as he got close to the Jeep.
“Actually, it’s Lieutenant now. I got promoted yesterday,” the former NCO responded.
The man didn’t look impressed. “We’re kind of expanding right now. This is the southern wall. If you go two blocks east, then turn left, you’ll find the gate.” Without another word, he climbed back over the car and resumed his seated position.
They followed the man’s direction. The entire westbound lane was bumper to bumper cars. The same was true for the southbound lanes on the eastern wall. The Haven was being surrounded by a wall of driverless vehicles. Under the circumstances, Jen thought it was actually a pretty good idea.
A man at the gate, Jen thought it looked just like the rest of the wall, signaled them to stop when he felt they were close enough. Roy walked through the makeshift gate and shook Lt. Brown’s hand energetically. “Damned good to see you again,” the bald man said.
“Good to see you too,” he responded with equal enthusiasm. “We saw the smoke. We were worried there was a fire.”
“Oh, that? Na. We’ve been pushing out a bit. That’s the bodies we’re burning.” His smile faded ever-so-slightly. “Most of them were already dead.”
Lt. Brown’s smile also died away. “How many did you lose?”
“We lost six on the first day, four on the second day, and only one yesterday. We finally figured out how to do it right.” He reached his hand out to Jen also. “I’m glad to see you. We have had a few… uh… injured over the past few days.” His face betrayed the concern his heart felt for his people. She returned his handshake.
He looked at Harold and Terence. Without asking who they were, he offered his hand to Terence. “Roy Blanchard, Petty Officer 2nd Class U.S. Navy; welcome to the Haven.” Terence took the man’s hand with a firm grip.
“I’m Major Terence Westergart, U.S. Army, formerly retired. This is Harold. He was Coast Guard before he found his way into my classroom.” The two shook hands. “I’ve been asked to lead the military personnel on the Island.” Terence didn’t feel the need to tell Roy everything. He still wanted to feel the man out a little.
Josiah led Jen to one of the houses about a block from the gate. There were two guards armed with both guns and swords standing outside of the door. The man on the left gave Jen a crooked smile. She wasn’t sure why, but it made her feel uncomfortable.
“We’ve got a few injured we’d like for you to look at if it’s ok,” Josiah told her as they passed between the two men. Jen’s curiosity was peeked. “How many injured, and what types of injuries?”
“Four people who’ve been cut, we had a fall injury, and… a… ah… special injury.” Jen felt that familiar knot form in her throat.
“What do you mean a special injury?” The knot in her throat had turned into a stone in her stomach. He did not answer. He merely opened a door to another room. This one also was guarded. Three men stood outside the door. Two never looked at her, only the door.
There on a makeshift stretcher, tied down, was a woman. She looked to be in her mid thirties. Her dark hair had been recently cut very short. Her right hand was wrapped in a large white bandage. Blood seeped through the gauze. She was pale; her face was awash with sweat. The experienced ER nurse in Jen thought the woman looked like someone who was about to… No, she thought. They didn’t really bring that… that… thing in here. She was astonished how fast she went from seeing her as a patient to a threat.
“She was bitten last night,” Josiah began. “She didn’t spike a fever until this morning. Roy thought you could help. Her fever is only 103.”
Jen thought about another survivor who had been exposed to the plague. He hadn’t even been bitten as far as they could tell. His name was Father Albright. He had reanimated and killed another survivor while her group had been trapped in a veterinarian’s clinic. Her heart began to race. She couldn’t catch her breath. No, no, no, no, she thought. I can’t do this.
She was about to tell Josiah the same thing when the girl turned towards her. Her eyes were sunken. But, there was something else. She was obviously dying, but her eyes pleaded with Jen. “Help me,” she croaked. “Please, I… I… I have a… a… little girl.” The woman began to sob. Jen noticed that no tears flowed from the woman’s eyes. If nothing else, she was dehydrated. Shit!
“Has anyone done anything for her at all?” She demanded. He shook his head as his eyes fell to the floor in shame. She could feel the anger welling inside of her.
&
nbsp; “We didn’t know what to do,” he finally replied meekly. The words and his tone took the wind right out of her sails. Damn it! She moved close to the woman, taking her backpack off as she did.
“What’s your name, baby?” She asked the woman.
“Sherry,” she answered. Her voice was weak and hoarse, just a bit louder than a whisper.
“Sherry,” Jen began. “My name is Jen. I’m a nurse. I’m going to help you. Can you tell me what happened?” As the woman spoke, Jen began to assess her. She was breathing and it was even. Her heart was racing at about 140 beats per minute. This could be from the fever, or because she was going into shock. Probably both, Jen thought.
Her skin was pale, hot, and wet. Jen knew these were ominous signs. The wound on the woman’s hand was the only one that Jen could find. She listened to her lungs. They sounded clear. Her heart rate was even, although fast. The pulses in the woman’s wrists were weak and thready. When Jen squeezed her fingers at the nail, it took about five seconds for the nail beds to return to a nice pink color. OK, low B/P she thought. She mentally cursed herself for not actually bringing a B/P cuff.
All the while, the woman told her story. She had not been bitten at all. During an encounter with a zombie, she had shoved her hand under the zombie’s jaw in order to keep its teeth away from her. The zombie had apparently received some form of facial trauma in the past. Sherry had found out the hard way that the zombie had a sharp piece of jaw bone jutting below its chin. She had impaled her hand on the bone only an instant before another survivor had shoved a knife through the top of the monster’s head
Jen reached into her bag and withdrew everything she would need to start an IV. She was very glad that she had thought to bring gloves. The thought of touching this woman’s possibly infected blood with her bare skin sent a shiver up her spine. After a moment of sheer terror, she was able to get an IV catheter into the woman’s vein. Soon the woman was connected to an IV bag of normal saline draining into the woman’s vein as fast as gravity would pull it through the catheter.
Again, Jen thought of Father Albright. She had not known at the time that the priest was dying of the plague. She believed he was suffering from another illness like pneumonia or bronchitis. She had infused several doses of antibiotics to no avail. She had a bad feeling that Sherry was going to meet the same fate as the priest.
While the fluids coursed into the woman’s veins, Jen removed the bandage. It turned out that what she had believed was a gauze bandage was actually a couple of pieces of paper towel, secured with masking tape.
The wound underneath was worse than Jen had imagined. The hole was jagged and still oozing blood. There was a foul odor coming from the area. Red streaks had begun to show on the woman’s forearm. This was a sign that an infection was spreading. Jen was almost sure that the infection would be bacterial.
This gave her pause. She could treat a bacterial infection. But, the fact that bacteria was setting into the wound did not exclude the possibility that the zombie plague had not already infected the woman. So, would it be worth it to treat the woman’s infected hand?
On the one hand, the antibiotics she had were a rare commodity. She did not want to waste them on someone who was essentially dead anyway. On the other hand, she did not know if the woman was truly infected with the plague. Without treatment, she was dead one way or the other. How would she feel if the woman died and did not reanimate? How would it look to her new friends if she did nothing?
She reached into her bag and retrieved a small plastic IV bag. She wasn’t exactly sure which antibiotic she should use. She decided on Ancef. She drove the spike into the bag, primed the tubing, and connected the secondary tubing to the line that the saline was already flowing through. She tried to count the drips so she wouldn’t run the antibiotic in too fast. Ten minutes later, she realized she had allowed it to flow in too fast. But, under the circumstances, she decided it would be ok.
She decided that she had done all she could for the woman. She told Josiah as much, and asked to be shown to the other patients. As an afterthought, she pulled 3 Acetaminophen tablets and two Ibuprofen tablets from her bag. The woman swallowed them hesitantly before Jen left the room.
Josiah led her to the next house. This one was larger than the one that housed the quarantined woman. The living room was large and there were several survivors huddled around a coffee table. They stopped talking as she entered the house. She could feel their stares. None looked injured. All looked worried. They must be families and friends. She smiled uncomfortably as she passed.
A young man in his mid-twenties occupied the first room she entered. He had a bandage wrapped around his left hand. He reported that he had been burned by a car battery the previous day while trying to jumpstart one of the derelict vehicles. She removed the bandage. She could see that it was an electrical burn. It didn’t really worry her much. If it hadn’t killed him yesterday, then he should be fine if he kept it clean and dry. She told him as much as she rewrapped it with fresh gauze.
The man asked her about pain medications. She reached into her bag and produced the bottle of Ibuprofen. She shook a few out into her hand. “This should help,” she told him curtly. The look on his face told her that he was hoping for something a little more sedating. “Sorry, I don’t have anything stronger with me today,” she said in her sweetest voice. “It should stop hurting in a few days.” Without waiting for his response, she turned and left the room.
The next room contained a man who had fallen off of a two story roof. Although she could not see any deformities, the man cried out in pain every time she touched his right calf and ankle. Without a working x-ray machine, she could not determine the extent of his injury. She decided that the best thing to do would be to splint the leg and let it heal on its own. She advised the man as much and asked Josiah to have someone to find something resembling a splint and some ACE wraps.
The other two rooms were occupied by people with minor injuries that Jen would forget about before nightfall. They were bandaged and sent back to their families. She had spent less than an hour in the makeshift clinic.
She and Josiah were about to leave when a younger woman strolled in. She was extremely thin and her skin was leathery. Jen noticed a resemblance between her and the emaciated dead roaming the countryside. The woman had horrible teeth. Several were missing and the rest were grayish black. Even walking, Jen could see that the woman’s hands were in constant motion. Jen couldn’t help but think how bad methamphetamines can make a person look. She’d seen enough people come through her ER coming down off of crystal meth to recognize the signs.
“Can I help you?” Jen asked gently.
The girl looked from Jen to the man standing next to her. Jen could tell she was nervous. For some reason she didn’t want to talk to her in front of him. She was pretty sure she could guess the reason. She looked to Josiah. He shrugged his shoulders. “How about you give me and…” She turned to the girl
“Pen,” the girl answered. “Call me Pen,”
“Would you leave Pen and I alone for a moment?” she asked Josiah. He closed the door as he left, leaving the two women alone in the house.
“What can I do for you…Pen?” she asked. The woman still appeared very anxious.
“I’m… I mean…” she stuttered. “You’re a nurse right? You’re not supposed to tell anyone anything I say right?”
“No sweetheart,” she replied. “I won’t tell anyone anything.” The girl let out a breath and became visibly more at ease. She still was restless and anxious, but she seemed more relaxed.
“I uh… I guess what I’m trying to say is…” She still couldn’t get the words out. Jen was losing her patience. The girl must have seen it in her eyes. “I’m coming down off meth,” the girl blurted. She then launched into a ten minute monologue.
She told Jen about how her and her boyfriend, Ducky, had escaped the city. They had been taken in by a group the next day. But, Ducky had stolen from the leader, and
they were kicked out. They were alone for the week or so. She wasn’t sure, because Ducky had kept her pretty high the entire time. The RV they shared was perfect for getting high and staying safe.
Then, they had run into a group of guys on motorcycles. Ducky thought they would be a fun group spend the end of the world with. For two days they had been. Then, they had decided that Ducky not only needed to share his excessive amounts of drugs with them, but he needed to share his woman. On the fourth day, Ducky had decided to stand up to the leader, some guy named Andy or Ender or something like that.
At this point, the girl began sobbing uncontrollably. She told them of how they had shot him in the legs and then cut off his right hand. After that, the group left both of them in the woods to die, which was exactly what Ducky did that night. That was three days ago. She had found her way into the Haven on the previous night and had crawled into the corner of an abandoned house. A woman named Samantha had found her and pointed her here.
Jen was shocked at the story. She had remembered the story Indira had told them about Thor and his band of smugglers and human traffickers. She felt for this woman. She knew the woman needed help. She reached into her bag and retrieved a bottle. The medicine was called Clonidine, a blood pressure medication. She told the woman that it was also used to help relieve the symptoms of withdrawal.
She then advised the woman that she would have to enlist some outside help and asked if she would allow Josiah to help. The woman consented. Josiah agreed to keep an eye on the woman overnight, reporting he knew just the place to keep her safe and out of sight. It was obvious to Jen that he had no idea who she was.
As she left the makeshift clinic, she found Roy and Mr. Westergart talking in the empty street. It was the emptiness that suddenly struck her. The residential street was lined on both sides with one story houses, many of which had a carpet of dead leaves on the lawns. But the driveways were empty and the street totally devoid of cars. It was eerie.