Parched

by Lou Cadle

  “But you’ll take care of her, won’t you? If something happens to me?”

  “Of course. But nothing is going to happen to you, Dev. The night might stay still and the fire will burn itself out down there.”

  “What did it look like?”

  “I couldn’t see flames. Only a glow in the smoke cloud, which was hanging low.”

  “It’d be a hard way to die.”

  What was wrong with him? Thinking about death and Zoe orphaned. “We need to focus on each small task. Take care of the small stuff, and do what we can, as well as we can. That’s how we get through this.”

  “Go on, go see if my mom needs help. I have work to do.”

  Sierra felt a stab of irritation at that. As if she’d been keeping him from his work, or something. She shook it off as she walked to the house. Everybody was tense, that was all. Remember that and don’t take any of it personally.

  Becca was in the kitchen, staring at a teapot sitting on a potholder in the middle of the table as if it was a bomb about to go off.

  “How’s everything?” Sierra said, closing the screen door behind her.

  “It’s a lot of blood. And she’s not close to delivering the thing.” She didn’t look at Sierra as she spoke.

  “Kelly’s a good medic,” Sierra said. She didn’t want to give Becca false hope, and that was as optimistic a statement as she was willing to make. She tapped on the door to Zoe’s room and stepped through.

  On the floor, there were a number of old towels, bloody, piled to the side. It seemed like a lot of blood. Kelly was talking Janine through a contraction. The pregnant woman’s face was beaded with sweat. Sierra caught sight of a damp cloth by her pillow, leaned over, plucked it up, and found it was warm. She looked around until she saw a basin of water, dipped it in, and wrung it out. When the contraction had passed, she leaned in over Kelly and gave Janine the cloth. “Good job,” she said to the woman, for that was what people had said to her during her own labor.

  Kelly shifted to the foot end of the bed and worked there for a moment, so Sierra sat on the edge of the bed. Janine hadn’t lifted her hand to take the cloth, so Sierra dabbed at her face.

  “Feels good,” Janine said.

  “It’s a warm night.” Sierra had no idea if Janine was aware of the wildfire threat. If not, she wasn’t about to tell her, for Janine could do nothing, and she had worries enough. “Hurt bad?”

  “Doesn’t hurt good,” she said, managing a wry smile. “You did this, huh?”

  “Kelly says I had an easy labor. If so, I’d hate to see a hard one. It seemed to last a lifetime.”

  “Mine might last the rest of mine.”

  Sierra winced, regretting the way she’d phrased that. She glanced over at Kelly, who had replaced another bloody towel with a fresh one. “I’ll be back in a second,” she said, and she leaned down to gather up the towels on the floor, shielding Janine’s sight of them the best she could. She walked them out to the laundry room and opened the washer. There were already a couple towels soaking in there. She added these, wishing she had gloves on.

  There had been plastic gloves back at the beginning, but as it ended up, plastic gloves got old and brittle. Only a couple years after the end of oil, Kelly had been working barehanded on cuts and relying on soap to clean up afterward. By that point, she must have been sure none of them carried a terrible disease like hepatitis or whatever. But the new people could be carrying some disease.

  Not the thing to worry about. Worry about Janine, and how hard she was bleeding.

  Kelly joined her a minute later. Sierra hadn’t moved. She said, “How long until she has the baby?”

  “Hours yet.”

  “Is she going to make it?”

  “I’m hoping the tea will do something.”

  “What’s it supposed to do again?”

  “It’s supposed to close blood vessels. But that’s working against nature—the nature of a placenta, the nature of the birth process.” Her voice was pitched very quiet. “If I could do something to speed up the labor process, she might have a chance.”

  Implying that, how things stood, she had none. “Is there anything at all I can do?”

  “I wouldn’t mind lying down for twenty minutes. It’s not physically exhausting so much as emotionally.”

  “Of course. I’ll sit with her. Whatever you need. Has Misha been by?”

  “Yeah. I told her to come by around midnight. If you can replace her around three or four in the morning, that’d be good.”

  Sierra hoped she wouldn’t be fighting a wildfire then. “Whatever you need,” she said. “Go rest. I’ll sit with her now.”

  “Come get me if anything changes. And when the next contraction comes, just do what I did. Sop up blood. Keep her clean.”

  “Okay,” Sierra said, swallowing against a wave of nausea.

  Kelly walked away, moving slowly.

  She’s exhausted. Part of Sierra hoped she’d catch a nap. But Sierra wanted to be out working on clearing brush too. If only she could duplicate herself about three times over, everyone would be better off. One of her could stay on the tower, watching the fire, testing the wind, and shouting down news. Another could stay with her daughter. Another could clear brush along the road. And a final Sierra could sit with the pregnant woman and give Kelly a rest.

  Focus. Right now, her job was to comfort and distract and nurse Janine. And get some tea down her, if her stomach could take it. She detoured to the kitchen and checked in the freezer. Good. There was ice. She put a few cubes in a bowl and chipped at them with a paring knife and then carried the bowl into the sickroom. When Sierra had been in labor, she’d puked back up a drink of water, but ice chips stayed down.

  Becca was with her wife, holding her hand. Sierra felt like an unwelcome guest. It was hard for her to feel what Becca might be feeling. She tried to imagine sitting with someone she cared for—her father or Zoe or anyone in the neighborhood, really, waiting and unable to do anything to help as they bled. It had to be horrible. Sad, frustrating, and maybe devastating. Sierra imagined Becca might be feeling a desperate longing to make what might be the last few minutes good ones.

  The moment with Curt had been as near as she’d come to feeling something for a man as she’d had in years. And that had come and gone in a heartbeat. At this moment, she didn’t pity herself for that lack. These two women had it worse right now than any troubles she had. But she did envy them for feeling something deeply, as so clearly they did. It was written in every line of their bodies, in the desperate clasp of their hands, in the tenderness of Becca’s voice.

  She was able to give Kelly nearly an hour’s break, during which time Janine had four contractions. Every contraction brought blood, and once Sierra was involved in cleaning it up, she realized it wasn’t as bad as it had first looked. There was water with it too, amniotic fluid, she supposed, diluting the blood so it looked like more than it was.

  But it was bad enough, surely. Uncomfortable with her lack of skill, she was glad to hand the job back over to Kelly. “I’ll be out on the road. Come get me if you need me again.”

  Chapter 18

  Dev’s father seemed distracted. “I’ll check on your mother,” he said, and he went into the house.

  Dev hoped his father wasn’t still worried about her safety around the women. They were safe to be around, he was certain. He’d be comfortable bringing Zoe back here, were it not for how crowded the house was. Also, a curious nine-year-old girl probably wasn’t the most restful person to introduce to Janine. But God, he missed his daughter. It didn’t matter that he saw her every day, and had even shared lunch with her twice this week. He missed her cheerful outlook and her endless curiosity and her sense of wonder at everything in the world that was so contagious and made something as familiar and common as the birth of rabbits seem like a miracle to Dev himself.

  And he never felt entirely at rest unless she was under his watchful eye. He trusted Sierra for the most part, and he tr
usted Pilar even more. Joan wouldn’t let any harm come to his daughter. No one in the neighborhood would. Though he knew it was irrational of him, he felt he could protect her better than anyone.

  Five minutes later, his father came out on the porch and stood there, bracing his arm against a support post. It had been a long day, and his father wasn’t getting any younger. He’d make his father take a break and Dev would deal with clearing the main road on his own.

  Wildfire was terrifying. Firefighters arriving to help was as much a thing of the past as helicopters carrying flame retardant chemicals. Whatever happened, it was all on them to protect themselves and their animals, their homes and their gardens.

  What if they couldn’t protect what they’d worked so hard to build? If they jumped in the car and outran the fire, only to come back and find utter destruction, what then? They couldn’t rebuild. What with? They might be able to pick a few seeds from the ground that would germinate after being burned. Maybe the root crops would make it through a fire. But they’d miss collecting the end-of-season seeds so crucial to next year’s garden. Building back up rabbits from a single breeding pair or hens from one nest of fertile eggs? That would take years to recover the numbers they had.

  And they were living on the edge of starvation as it was. A wildfire burning everything? Dev was afraid they’d die.

  He glanced at his father again, who hadn’t moved. His arm was still braced, his head hanging. Then he drew an arm across his face. Shock hit Dev as he realized his father was not wiping sweat from his face but tears.

  He’d never seen his father cry. Not once. Not when he’d been shot. Not even when his mother had been hurt. It couldn’t be over the pregnant woman, could it? A stranger, one Arch hadn’t particularly wanted to help in the first place?

  Maybe if she had died.

  Dev’s feet were moving before he knew he had made the decision to move. But he slowed as he neared his father. “Dad?” he said, hesitant.

  Arch turned away, wiped his face again, and straightened his back. When he turned to face Dev, his face was composed. “What?”

  “Are—” Dev changed his mind about what to say. “Is everything okay in there with Janine?”

  “I didn’t get invited in to look. Not that I wanted to.”

  “Well, no, but.”

  “Is the shed wet down?”

  “Yeah,” Dev said, confused at the abrupt turn. Or, no—this was his father as he had been for years and years. He was confused not at the return to normalcy but about the moment Arch had lost control of his emotions. For a crazy moment, he wondered if he’d imagined that. But no, he had seen it.

  “Go on and do that. I’m going to look at the main road. Need the push broom.” And he stomped off to the shed.

  Dev stared after him. The moment was gone, and he hadn’t asked the right question. “Dad, what’s wrong? Dad, are you crying?” One of those would have been better. Sometimes, despite everything that had changed between them, Dev still felt like a fourteen-year-old kid, intimidated by his father, unable to feel any affection coming from the man. He was more affectionate with Zoe, and Dev was glad for that. For both of them.

  He couldn’t just be missing Zoe, could he? Or maybe he too had been thinking about losing everything he worked so hard to build. Yeah, it had to be that—worry over the fire.

  Dev wound the hose up and then stretched it back out to the shed. His father came out without a word with a push broom and hatchet and headed down the driveway. Dev turned on the hose, and then thought it might be worth asking his mother if his father had said what was bothering him. Dev shut off the hose and went inside, sitting alone in the kitchen until his mother emerged with an armload of bloody towels. She caught sight of him and after she got rid of the laundry came in to sit with him. “You need something? Hungry?”

  “What upset Dad?”

  She looked away.

  “Did you two fight?” It took her so long to answer, he wondered if, crazy though it seemed, they might be breaking up. No. Surely not.

  She said, “I need to talk to you. But tonight is not the right time.”

  Now Dev really was worried. “What is it?”

  “Another time, Devlin.” Her voice was sharp. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to snap at you. But I have something to do tonight, and I want to see it through. There’s a baby coming.”

  “Sure. That’s what you do. You’re the medic.”

  She gave him a sad smile. “That’s what I do.”

  “Is Janine okay?”

  “No worse than I expected. It’s going to be touch-and-go.”

  “But that’s not what’s bothering Dad, is it? Or you?”

  “Later, Dev. I have a job to focus on.” She rose. “We’ll talk tomorrow, after this is over and I get some sleep.”

  “If the fire comes, there won’t be any sleep for any of us.”

  “I hope it doesn’t. One crisis at a time is all I can handle.”

  He knew that tone of voice. She wasn’t going to tell him what the big talk was about, not until she was ready. “Don’t work too hard. Let me know if you need Sierra or Misha to spell you. I’ll get them.”

  “Thank you, dear. You’re a good son.” She moved to the door and turned one last time. “And a wonderful father. I’m really proud of you for that.”

  Dev left the house more confused than when he’d gone in.

  Chapter 19

  Sierra worked hard alongside Curt, Rod, and Emily. They’d gotten all the torn-up brush—perfect fuel for a wildfire—moved back onto the bare patches of ground they’d cleared. Now they were hacking away at what overhung the road. Everyone traded off jobs, though Curt took more than his share of time with the heaviest ax. Emily had brought a solar lantern from their house, and without it, the dangerous work would have been even more so.

  “Keep your hands out of my way,” Rod said, swinging the ax at the base of an oak limb.

  “I’m not sure we’re doing any good here at all,” Sierra said. “There’s the same amount of wood to burn. It’s just slightly farther away from us.”

  “If we can get the road entirely clear,” Curt said, “I’ll feel better.”

  Emily was going at the road itself with a shovel, pulling up weeds and turning over dirt where she could. It was hard going. The road hadn’t had new gravel in well over a decade, and it had no traffic except the lightweight electric car moving on it once a week, but it was still a well-packed surface, hard to penetrate with a shovel. The rest of them grunted with effort, and they all cursed from time to time, but Emily hardly made a noise—just an occasional breath blown out hard in frustration.

  Rod put the ax down and leaned on it, catching his breath.

  Sierra held her hand out for it. “My turn, I guess.”

  “You’ll need to shower again before you help Kelly,” Curt said. He wasn’t quite meeting her eyes. She wanted to shake him and yell that they had nothing to be embarrassed about, but she didn’t, of course. All that would do is drive him away. There was a crisis to attend to. The two of them would talk later.

  She’d been at it for two hours without a break. Joan had brought them drinking water once, and when she came walking into the circle of light the lantern threw, Sierra at first thought she was bringing more water. But she walked up to Sierra and said, “Your father can’t find Zoe.”

  “What do you mean?” Sierra said.

  “She’s not anywhere. Not at our house, not at yours, not at the Quinns’. Not in the barn or shed or even at Curt’s.”

  “Damn.” At first, Sierra was irritated. Was this a stunt about catching her and Curt kissing? She didn’t have time for the temper of a nine-year-old right now. “Who is looking for her?”

  Curt said, “I’ll help,” and reached down to pull on his shirt.

  “No. This work is too important,” Sierra said. “I’m sorry, guys. You three keep working, and Pilar and I will hunt for her. She’s probably in the loft or something.” A horrible thought stru
ck her. “The climbing harness isn’t missing, is it?”

  “She wouldn’t have done that,” Joan said.

  Sierra wasn’t quite so sure. That’s where she’d look first.

  Emily waved the shovel to get her attention. She touched her neck, and made a snout with her hands. Her sign for Lily, the half-wolf.

  “Is she still around?” Sierra said.

  “She wouldn’t hurt Zoe,” Joan said, but she didn’t sound so sure.

  Now Sierra was worried. “It’s just the kind of thing she might do, go looking for the wolf,” she said. “Where’s Misha?”

  “Helping Kelly.”

  “I might need her to help me if I can’t find Zoe right quick. At least she can call the damned wolf with more success than any of us.” She apologized again to the work crew and jogged up the road toward her house.

  First thing, she went to the turbine towers and breathed a huge sigh of relief when she saw the climbing harness still there. But just to be on the safe side, she picked it up and carried it back into the barn. “Zoe?” she said, as she looked inside the dim space. “If you’re in here, answer me right now.” She wasn’t sure if she was more worried or angry, but she was both. “Honey, please.” She listened but heard nothing.

  She picked the headlight out of the climbing gear and strapped it on, climbed up into the rafters, past the last of the drying amaranth plants, and looked around in the loft, moving things around in case Zoe really was hiding from her. But her daughter wasn’t there.

  An image of Lily popped into her mind. The wolf wouldn’t hurt her, would it? She wasn’t so sure, and the more she thought about her child, in the woods at night, and the wolf out there, its golden eyes tracking Zoe, the more worried she grew. If that damned animal laid so much as a tooth on her daughter, she’d beat it so hard it’d never come back here.

  Zoe was not in the barn. Sierra hung onto the headlamp in case she needed to look anywhere else that was dark. Knowing Pilar had already probably looked, Sierra combed the house, looking under beds and in closets, flashing back to the days after Emily had just arrived, when she pretty much lived in her closet.