Black Creek

by Dan Kemp

  "Her lung is collapsed," he said. "Hold her still."

  Jess put her hands on Meredith's shoulders as the doctor uncapped a frighteningly long needle. In one quick motion he slid it into the front of Meredith's chest. Jess held strong as Meredith arched her back, straining against her hands.

  There was a hiss of air rushing out of the needle, and Meredith took a long, gasping breath. Before Jess knew it the doctor had already slapped a dressing over the needle and was standing up. "Stay with her," he said. "I'll be back."

  "Is she going to be okay?" Jess called after him, but he was already lost in the crowd.

  Meredith slept, and Jess sat with her as the chaos around them slowly died down. The shouting and moaning of the injured was quieter as some found the help they needed and those who could not be helped fell silent forever. After a while the doctor returned, his thinning hair stuck to his sweaty forehead and his stethoscope stained with blood.

  "How is she?" he asked.

  "She's just been sleeping," Jess said.

  "That's okay," he answered, listening to her lungs once again. "Good. You know her?"

  "Yeah. We just got here, right before this happened."

  "Knew I didn't recognize you. Anyway, she should be fine. I'll keep her at the clinic overnight."

  "Thank you,” Jess said.

  Meredith woke up as Jess and a few others lifted her onto a stretcher. She smiled faintly at Jess as they carried her away.

  "I guess I didn't lock that door, huh?" Jess turned around. It was Kristof, the man she'd been talking to before the attack. His one good eye was bloodshot, and the clean streaks through his dusty cheeks made it clear he had been crying. Jess felt lightheaded, the gravity of all she had just seen suddenly landing on her at once. "Whatever," he said before she could reply. "We've got bigger problems at the moment. You can talk to Dorian later."

  "Rachel," Jess said, clarity returning to her once again. "Where is she?"

  Kristof nodded, looking like he could cry again.

  Jess couldn't believe the size of the place. Once you got away from those massive walls, it looked no different than any other town had looked several years before. Aside, of course, from the mesh netting that was suspended overhead.

  In some areas, the buildings were spread out, and in others they were packed close together like a downtown city block. At the moment, the streets and sidewalks were empty, but Jess could easily imagine traffic humming along as she walked.

  "Do people drive in here?" Jess asked.

  "Not really, the only vehicles we have right now are for official purposes. But we figured eventually we might need the roads."

  The area they were crossing through seemed to be some kind of commercial district. Half the buildings seemed to be vacant though, and most of those that were filled didn't look like typical stores. One squat brick structure had a sign that simply read "Plumber." Its entrance was a garage door that opened directly into a workshop, where she saw an old man cranking away with a wrench as though nothing unusual had happened. The man waved at Kristof, who returned the gesture.

  "We started with the basic trades," Kristof said. "Carpenters, masons, metalworkers, all kinds of builders. Electricians. Engineers," he added. "Anyone that could help us quickly get on our feet. Once we had shelter, we started expanding. Farmers came soon after. Then a doctor. More fighters. At first it was all very simple, but we're getting bigger. We haven't had much need for policing yet, but we will soon. Dorian finally admitted he can't handle it all himself."

  "What's he like, Dorian?" Jess asked, trying to keep her tone neutral.

  "He's an interesting man. I may not agree with him all the time, but I owe him everything. We all do."

  "What do you disagree about?"

  Kristof laughed quietly. "He's a hard man. I can't imagine he was like that before, but it's how you have to be to survive these days. And at first, I agreed with him. We had no room for charity. We turned away a lot of people who needed us back then. I'm sure most of them didn't make it. I didn't relish doing that, but we couldn't afford to take in anyone who couldn't directly contribute. Now... things are different. I'm not saying our whole philosophy has to change. But we can do more. If we have a chance to preserve humanity, we should preserve all of it. But I think I'm winning him over, slowly. We've got a couple musicians now. That took some arguing. But of course he had no problem letting a couple of prostitutes in before we even had a doctor." Kristof snorted.

  "Strange," Jess said.

  "I thought so too. 'The oldest profession,' he told me. 'What better way to keep the fighting men's morale up?' He was right about that though, I must admit."

  They left those few densely-packed blocks and passed by what had once been a fire station. An old, rusting fire truck sat outside. "Any fires yet?" Jess asked.

  "No," Kristof said. "Thank God. We've only got one trained firefighter. He seems competent enough, but I’m not sure how good a teacher he is. For now, the fire hall is mostly used as a cafeteria."

  "How does all that work?" It was a good question, one that hadn't occurred to her until now.

  "Food is served there three times a day. No cost. Every man and woman in Black Creek contributes what they can, and everyone eats. Everyone has a roof to sleep under. If a man gets sick, our doctor will help him. If the doctor needs his plumbing fixed, the plumber will fix it. So on. It works well, for now."

  "Seems like things could get complicated quickly," Jess said. "With more people."

  "Yes," Kristof admitted. "But that's no reason not to do it. One step at a time."

  "You seem like a smart man," Jess said. "I bet this town is lucky to have you."

  Kristof smiled a sad half-smile. He had stopped walking. "We're here," he said. They stood in front of a long, multistory apartment building. A few men and women were standing together in the garden, talking nervously. They took notice of Kristof as he arrived, and he wandered over to talk to them. Jess stood still, suddenly unable to move. Kristof looked back at her.

  "Go on," he said. "2B."

  Jess ran across the grass and into the covered walkway on the first floor, then took the steps two at a time and ran until she stopped in front of a plain black door that read "2B" in brass letters. Jess pounded on the door three times. Her heart was racing, and she became suddenly aware of how terrible she must look. She ran a trembling hand through her oily hair. The lock clicked, and the door opened.

  "Jess?"

  Rachel stood inside; there was no mistaking her, though she was thinner and the pink streaks in her hair had long grown out aside from the very tips.

  Jess tried to speak, but she had no words, and so she collapsed sobbing into Rachel's arms.

  ***

  The medical clinic was a little old building at the edge of town. It was one of the few, like the fire department and the town hall, that looked as if they had existed longer than a year or so. This one even still had the remnants of a parking lot around it.

  A sign outside the tiny office complex still advertised the services of a divorce attorney and a dentist as well as a colorectal surgeon. Inside, Jess and Rachel found no such practice, only the modest Black Creek medical clinic.

  Dr. Sherman Brandt, the man she had met earlier that day after the attack on the wall, and evidenced by the name on the white coat hanging near the door, sat behind a big oak desk with his eyes closed. He nearly fell out of his chair when the door slammed shut behind them.

  The waning light of the evening sun cast a faint orange glow across the waiting room. Dr. Brandt blinked his eyes, clearly having been asleep for some time and startled by the transition into nighttime.

  "Hello," he said, glancing at Jess and leaning over to flip a light switch above his desk. The lights didn’t come on. "Right. Shit." He dug through a drawer and struck a match, lighting a lantern on his desk.

  "I never got your name earlier," he said.

  "Jess Neil. This is Rachel."

  "We've met, actually," he an
swered.

  "How is Meredith?" Rachel asked.

  He stood up from the desk, his rolling chair scratching along the ground. "She's doing fine, so far." He led them down a narrow hallway with doctor's exam rooms branching off of it. Each had been converted into a makeshift hospital room.

  "Full up tonight, obviously," Dr. Brandt said over his shoulder. "Usually it's just office visits, but I'm set up pretty well here for longer stays. All things considered." He peeked his head into one room, speaking quietly to someone on the other side who must have been a nurse, then kept walking.

  Finally, he pulled back the curtain at the third door and gestured for them to enter. It was dark, aside from the fluorescent display of a heart monitor, which beeped away steadily. The muffled rumble of a gasoline generator could be heard on the other side of the wall.

  Meredith lay in the bed with her eyes closed and a blanket pulled up across her chest, which rose and fell slowly as if in time with the rhythm of the monitor.

  The doctor slipped past Jess and pressed his stethoscope to Meredith's side. Her eyes flickered open.

  "Jess, Rachel!" she almost shouted, then recoiled in pain.

  "Easy now," Dr. Brandt said. Rachel walked to the side of the bed and took Meredith's hand. Jess stood at her left.

  "I'm so glad to see you guys," Meredith said.

  "We're glad to see you too," Jess said.

  "Your lungs are clear. If you're stable overnight, you can go home in the morning." The doctor moved back to the doorway.

  "Thank you,” Meredith said. “But I don't have a home."

  "Of course you do," Jess said.

  ***

  The town hall was full, and the murmur of the crowd was almost deafening.

  Jess and Rachel had chosen a pair of flimsy folding chairs near the back of the crowd and sat hand-in-hand. Night had fallen, and the hall was now lit only by fifteen or so candles scattered around the room. The scene was somewhat eerie. The crowd's anxious chattering came to a sudden end when the metal doors at the back of the hall squealed open.

  In walked Dorian Black, every bit the man she had met several years before, though perhaps a bit frayed at the edges. Close behind him followed Kristof, a cigarette tucked behind one ear and a sour expression on his face.

  Dorian stepped up onto a short stage at the head of the room, took a deep breath and spoke.

  "Today was a bad day."

  A quiet grumble from the crowd signaled their feeling that this was an understatement.

  "No getting around it. You all know me. I like to get up here and tell you how things are going to be okay. Well, today, things don't feel so okay. Not for any of us." He cast a glance at Kristof, who was staring intently at his own feet.

  "We lost twenty six good people today. Another dozen seriously injured. Many more with minor injuries. Dr. Brandt once again finds himself working through the night. Many of us have him to thank that we, or our loved ones, are still here."

  A couple of claps stood out from the general murmur of agreement.

  "Our western wall has been breached, and the gates now lie in pieces. My men and I will be standing guard through the night. Meanwhile, our power source has been destroyed. We don't know how long it will take to restore. So I won't simply stand up here tonight and tell you everything will be okay, but I will tell you this. I’ve always defended my friends. The Church hit us hard today, but I promise you all: I’ll hit them back much harder."

  He looked around at the gathered crowd for a few seconds, and Jess saw exhaustion in his eyes.

  "Everyone get some sleep."

  He stepped off the stage and the crowd resumed its conversations, though somewhat less frenzied than before. People steadily began to file out of the town hall. Jess just sat and watched as Dorian and Kristof approached her.

  "Detective Neil," Dorian said, offering his hand. She shook it. "We meet again."

  "You remember, then?" Jess allowed herself a slight smirk.

  "Oh, I do. I suppose you were previously acquainted with our town's new therapist?"

  "Yes. My girlfriend, of several years."

  "What a strange world," Dorian said.

  "And only getting stranger," Jess said.

  "Anyway," Dorian said with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. Up close, he looked much more tired. "Kristof told me about your arrival, though I already remembered your credentials well enough. If you would be willing to take the position as Chief of Police, we would be happy to have you."

  "I think we have a deal."

  Dorian smiled. "Excellent. We'll talk soon, get you set up."

  "There's one other thing," Jess said. "There's a girl in the clinic, Meredith."

  "Yeah,” Dorian said. “Kristof told me about her as well. As far as I'm concerned at this point, if she's a package deal with you, she's in."

  "Thank you. Really," Jess said.

  “At least something good can happen today,” Dorian replied. Kristof, behind him, nodded.

  The two men took their leave, and Jess and Rachel were the last to leave the hall. The night air was pleasantly cool, and overhead the moon and stars shone down through the mesh netting hanging over the town.

  They walked hand-in-hand down the sidewalk toward Rachel's apartment, now theirs. After a few minutes they passed the broken portion of the wall, where a dozen or so armed men stood guard under some gas-powered lights.

  "This place seems so crazy," Jess said. “After being out there.” Rachel hummed her agreement, pulling up close against Jess as they walked silently for a while. The two of them hadn’t even yet discussed their experiences out there, and Jess wasn’t sure she wanted to. For now, just feeling Rachel’s head lightly resting against her shoulder, just catching the scent of her hair, was more than enough.

  "So this Dorian Black is the same man from Pittsburgh, the vigilante you were chasing?" Rachel asked.

  "Yep."

  "Wow." Rachel chuckled. "Are you gonna do anything about that?"

  Jess smiled, though Rachel wouldn't have been able to see it in the dark, and squeezed her hand.

  "I was thinking I might steal his town right out from under him."

  Dorian

  The summer night air was cool across Dorian's bare chest.

  He glanced over at the little battery-powered alarm clock on his bedside table. 4:34, it read in a harsh red glare. Aside from that, the only light in his bedroom was the pale blue glow of the moon filtering in through the curtains, which flapped gently in the breeze.

  Dorian put a hand to his forehead, still slightly damp with sweat. His eyes were heavy, but sleep wouldn’t come to him. It hardly had at all these last two nights, since the Church attacked.

  The town was on edge, himself included. He had never been one to shy away from adversity, but now he was beginning to feel pushed beyond his limits. Not that he would ever let it show. Black Creek had no power and a giant hole in its walls. Somewhere out there, the goddamned Church was probably celebrating a victory. The thought of it enraged him.

  And where the fuck is James?

  He should have arrived by now. Surely he would know what to do.

  The girl in bed beside him stirred slightly, murmuring softly in her sleep and shifting her body closer to his. Until then, he had forgotten she was even there. Years ago she would have been just another nameless companion. Now, to Dorian’s disdain, he was acutely aware of who she was, where she came from, and how she found her way to his bed. As he was with everyone in this town.

  For her part, she was one of a handful of women he’d let in for the express purpose of this sort of thing. A couple of them had already been sex workers in the old world. A few, like this one, desperate for sanctuary, had accepted an offer for the role having no other skills to offer. Nobody had forced them, though. Plenty of other women had refused. She could have. Right?

  In a way, Dorian was starting to feel like that took some of the enjoyment out of the whole thing. He let his head sink deeper into the p
illow with a sigh.

  Fuck.

  There was a crash and the sound of shattering glass, and in an instant Dorian had whipped the sheets away and was on his feet. Despite the dark, his hand immediately found his revolver, which he kept on the shelf beneath his nightstand.

  Dorian put his back against the wall beside the doorway into the main hall. A quick peek confirmed the front door was still closed. He crept down the hall, weapon trained ahead of him, and his footsteps were nearly silent on the rug.