Making her way carefully down the carpeted stairs, her hand gripping tightly to the rail, she was amazed at the size of the home and even more so that it was a guest house on the estate. At the rear of the house stood a semi-circular assembly of bay windows with a view of a vast lawn that sprawled down to Lower-Whisper Lake. The kitchen was astonishing. Black hardwood cabinets, stainless steel appliances, and finely set floor tiles adorned the area, with a large stainless steel gas stove built into an island in the center of it all. Examining the stove she found that it wasn’t very clean. Upon another glance, she found that the kitchen, which was indeed very lovely, wasn’t well maintained. No matter, she thought, if I can find the cook wear, I can manage. She began to explore the drawers and cabinets.
Margaret pulled open the heavy refrigerator door with a huff. She found treasures within that she hadn’t tasted in years; real bacon, thick cut from Empire Meats down on Pershing Street, two dozen eggs, real butter, as well as American and Mozzarella cheese. She began to pile her supplies on the island counter in the center of the kitchen. She found a bread box with wheat-bread but no white. Opening each of the cupboards she familiarized herself with the arrangement and contents of the kitchen. The frying pans were a beautiful copper, but could use a quick rinsing. She wished she had some potatoes but found none. Toast would have to do. Those kids have been through a lot. The least I can do is make them a nice breakfast. She thought of how her doctor would have scolded her like a child if he knew that she was going to eat real eggs, chock-full of cholesterol and salt. Margaret never liked his condescending tone or her diet of artificial food. To hell with you Doctor Osteen, she thought and placed a glimmering skillet on the stove.
Consciousness shook Nikki Howe with a surge of adrenalin. She bolted up with a start, swung her feet around, and braced herself on the edge of the bed. It was the dream again; the same as in the truck. It seemed so real, the hammering of hungry hands outside, Lance’s prefect smile, his cold blue eyes, and even the smell of gunpowder before it became too much and threw her back into the real world; into yet another nightmare. Wild eyed and breathing hard from the shock of the waking world, she tried to focus her eyes on the unfamiliar surroundings. Nikki slowly realized where she was and that she was, for the moment, safe. Commotion from the kitchen caught her attention. A faint smell of cooking entered the room and Nikki realized that she was very hungry. After washing her face and using the rather large restroom, she opened the door to the hall and discovered something unexpected.
She found Tony asleep on the carpeted floor in front of her door curled up on his side like a very large child. He had what appeared to be a couch cushion underneath his head as a pillow. Underneath the cushion, Nikki could see the protruding end of his shotgun. She cocked her head and studied Tony. She watched the steady rise and fall of his shoulder and how his back expanded with each breath. Under normal circumstances she would have been very uncomfortable at the thought of a shotgun wielding man sleeping outside of her bedroom. Nikki’s mouth rose into a bemused grin with the thought that Tony was sleeping there to protect her. He had done so for the past forty-eight hours without her notice. She realized that Tony had managed to keep himself between her and danger as often as he could. She wondered if his actions were chivalry or something more. Tony startled her as he spoke,
“Good morning.” He said without moving.
“You’re awake?” She asked.
“Sort of; it’s like meditation instead of sleeping.” He cleared his throat and stretched, without opening his eyes. “The nice lady downstairs is cooking something.”
“Yeah, it smells good,” Nikki’s tummy growled.
“Go check it out; eat a good breakfast, you’re gonna need it.”
Tony looked up at her with sleep-squinted eyes. “I think I have a plan to get in touch with the school.” He smiled. Nikki’s face bloomed with anticipation. He shook his head.
“Go, eat, I’ll lay it on ya when we are all awake.” He turned and scooted over a bit to allow her passage, “I’m still working it all out in my head.” He closed his eyes and resumed the appearance of sleeping.
Nikki took three steps down the stairs and turned to look at Tony. Maybe, just maybe, she would be able to find out about her parents. She heard something sizzle in the kitchen accompanied by the wafting aroma of bacon. She turned and trotted down the rest of the stairs. In the front room, she saw that a couch was pushed up against the front door, blocking it off. Jack was on the couch, his eyes closed, breathing relaxed, cradling a long shotgun. She stopped and studied him for a moment. She whispered a question,
“I bet you’re awake too.”
“Yep,” Jack replied. His voice was rough and almost cold, but his countenance gave no hint at his consciousness.
Nikki was startled by the curtness in his voice but somehow not surprised that he was awake. She continued to the kitchen.
Jack Mason had the appearance of a man in deep sleep, yet inside he was stewing. He focused on maintaining a deep slow breathing but couldn’t manage to keep his pace from quickening. He wondered what the hell kind of plan Tony had come up with. Mason wanted to get up, siphon whatever gas he could from the Bronco in the garage, load up on water and ammo, and get the hell back to Berkeley. The chicks were welcome to come if they wanted to but he doubted they would. Tony didn’t need to be worrying about trying to impress that blonde. He opened his eyes and looked up with an angry grimace to see Tony disappear into the bedroom that Nikki was using.
“Gonna go make her bed for her?” Mason mumbled.
Jack never was a morning person. He was however, a bacon person so angry or not, he could no longer resist the smells of fried delicacies floating in the air. He rose to his feet, took a look outside the window, saw nothing of note, and started towards the kitchen.
*****
Veronica rushed down the hospital’s wide hallway checking her watch. Her biology exam had run over and traffic in the rain was worse than she’d expected making her late for her father’s weekly infusion. Her rapid steps squeaked on the concrete floors causing a dour looking nurse to scowl at her as she passed. The nurse didn’t have to ask for her name; everyone was familiar with Veronica on the oncology ward. The girl spent as much time as humanly possible there with her father. She had sat with him through each Chemotherapy session while a mixture of horrific chemicals was slowly introduced into his circulatory system in an almost medieval attempt to rid his body of cancer. It was an unpleasant experience that she never wanted him to face alone. It was important to her to spend this time together because it was the times that he would be most lucid. The chemical cocktail would bring with it nausea, vomiting, and a debilitating fatigue within the first twenty-four hours. He would be sick for the rest of the week and given further medications to counteract the chemo; all with their own side-effects. The chemical wringer left her father very much unlike the man who had raised her. She was aware that he was slipping away more and more so these moments, the ones furthest from the last session, were where he was most himself. She hated being late. She dreaded the possibility that something bad might happen while she was in class. She had nightmares of rushing to his room, only to find an empty bed.
She heard her father’s voice up ahead and was relieved that they had yet to take him. Turning into the room she saw two orderlies and a nurse around his bed. The orderlies wore unhappy expressions as the nurse spoke.
“Here she is sir,” the nurse lifted a hand towards Veronica. The orderlies backed away revealing her father. His gaunt unshaved face looked horribly tired and his Beanie cap, the one used both to keep him warm and hide his hair loss had come off. Veronica pushed past an orderly and helped fit her father’s cap back on.
“What’s going on here?” Veronica demanded.
“Your father was just being difficult dear, nothing to worry about.” The nurse said, “He didn’t want to go without you. I said that you’d be along shortly and could meet him in the I.R.”
“You couldn’t have just waited a few minutes?” Veronica said in a raised voice as she pulled his cap into place and patted him reassuringly. She nodded to him and smiled. He lifted his frail hand to hers.
“I don’t want to go Sweetheart.” He said in a tired voice.
“Its okay Daddy, I’m here. We can go do your medicine now.” Veronica said. He shook his head.
“It’s not working.” He struggled to sit up for a moment but only grunted before laying back down. He lifted his arm to the nurse and waved them away.
“Tell that quack Tipton that I’m done.” Her father said and waved again for the others to leave, the effort causing him to huff in exasperation. His breath had the stinging scent of chemicals even a week out from his last treatment. The nurse and the orderlies left Veronica alone with her father.
“Daddy, don’t give up.” She begged knowing that this day would come. She knew it in her heart that it was nearer and nearer with each infusion; that each session was only weakening him.
“Tipton’s grasping at straws Honey; they’re trying everything because they don’t know what it is.” He said with his eyes closed. “Or they don’t want to know.”
Veronica kneeled by his bedside. The hard floor was cold on her knees even through her jeans.
“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t they want to know?” She asked. He lowered his voice and answered.
“Some of the boys that we worked on in the war were exposed to really strange stuff; chemical, biological, even depleted uranium rounds.”
“Gulf-War Syndrome?” she whispered.
He shrugged.
“Look at Tipton; his specialty is infectious diseases not Oncology; why the hell is he overseeing my case?” Her father said.
“What can we do?” She asked.
“Nothing, but I can’t continue the treatments; it’s killing me.”
“Please don’t give up Daddy.”
“Hey,” he said, “I’m not going anywhere right away.” He put his hand on her head, “I just want to be myself when the end does come.”
His voice faded as she slipped away into the space between dreams and sleep.
Veronica lay on her side facing the balcony window. She woke with warm tears in her eyes. It didn’t alarm her to awaken so. She had woken up in such a manner for weeks after losing her father. Since then it would only happen when she was really missing him, as she was apt to do every now and again. With everything that she had been through for the past couple of days, tears in the morning was perfectly understandable.
She inhaled with a sniffle and gently rubbed her face into her pillow to wipe at her tears. She turned to check on Mrs. McCormack and was alarmed to find her side of the bed empty. Veronica stretched her arm out over the other side of the bed as if to be sure the old woman wasn’t somehow suddenly invisible. She smoothed the sheets and found that they were cold. The woman had been gone for a little while. She wondered how long she had been sleeping.
Veronica swung her legs around and felt her bruised abdominal muscles tighten. She inhaled quickly as she rose to her feet. Despite a good nights sleep, her wound had only become more painful. She walked carefully towards the bathroom door.
“Mrs. McCormack?”
The bathroom was empty; adrenalin and alarm now completely woke Veronica. She began to notice the activity from the first floor. She didn’t recognize the sounds of conflict or danger. She opened the bedroom door a crack and was greeted with the smells of cooking. Closing the door, she bowed her head to touch the wall and sighed in relief. Everything was okay; well for the moment, relatively.
*****
Margaret McCormack had laid out quite a feast for the young people who had taken her in. Each one had attempted to nibble at some toast or a piece of bacon as they filed into the kitchen, but Margaret made sure that everyone waited until all were present to eat. The kindhearted old lady hadn’t cooked a meal like this in years. She hadn’t forgotten how hard it was to cook a large meal but she didn’t remember it ever making her so tired. She had worked herself up pretty good over the several frying pans and now with Veronica’s arrival, they could all sit down to enjoy breakfast together. Taking her seat, she felt a little light headed. Margaret wondered if she shouldn’t just go upstairs and lie down for a while. But there was no way she could pass up such a meal. She thought that she probably just needed some nourishment. Looking at her young companions, she smiled and heaved a sigh of relief.
“Well, please enjoy.” She said with a smile.
They ate without conversation other than polite requests to pass the butter or eggs. Once a dish was passed, acknowledgement was little more than a kind nod or small mumble. Margaret ate slowly, savoring every last delicious bite. Her meal was everything that her doctor had forbid her for the last decade, and it was sinfully heavenly. Looking at the group, she smiled again at their happy expressions. After some a while, Tony wiped at his mouth and spoke.
“Thank you very much Ma’am, this is great.” The others, their mouths full, made sounds of agreement. Nikki looked at Tony with an expression of urging curiosity. He understood her unspoken question. He pulled a small walkie-talkie from the cargo pocket on his combat fatigues. Tony set the walkie-talkie on the table in front of his plate and began to speak.
“I found this in the garage. It’s the only one. I found the packaging too. I guess Homeboy took the others to the campground with him. Anyways, the packaging has a price tag from a place called Bull’s-eye. I am assuming that ‘s a sporting goods place in town?”
Nikki lifted her eyebrows and nodded.
“Do you happen to know if they carry ammunition?” Tony asked.
“Yeah, and guns too.” Nikki answered with a little more food in her mouth then she realized. She lifted her hand to cover her lips. Jack put his fork down on his plate with a loud ting and interrupted, gesturing towards the walkie-talkie.
“How ya gonna get it over the fence? Those things were five rows deep.” Impatience rang in his voice. Tony continued.
“My idea is to go to the sporting goods store and see if they have any more of these, and batteries too. We stick one in a strong bag with padding, like a back-pack and tie it with something bright; something to catch your eye. We drive by the school a couple of times to make sure that whoever’s inside notices us and I fling it over the fence.”
Nikki’s face brightened. Veronica chewed a bit of wheat-toast thoughtfully.
“Then we pull off to a safe distance, turn on our radio and see if it worked.” Tony said then looked to Jack whose face hinted at neither approval nor disappointment.
“What if there aren’t any more radios?” Nikki asked. Jack picked his fork up and continued eating.
“Then I want you to write a note,” Tony said leaning towards her with a thoughtful expression, “say that you’re okay, everything your parents would want to hear to reassure them, and ask them to signal with a flashlight on the roof at an hour after sundown to let you know they’re there.”
She nodded and looked down at her plate, What if they weren’t okay? She wondered.
“We’ll attach the note to something heavy and throw it over with or without the radio. Even if there are no radios at the store, it’s worth a look to see if they have any guns and ammo.” Tony said.
Jack rose to his feet and took his plate to the sink. Tony watched him as he stood for a moment looking out the back window. Veronica noticed the stillness and stood, feeling the pain in her side. She steadied herself on the back of her chair and let out a sigh. She spoke to Margaret who had just placed her fork down on her empty plate.
“May I take your plate Mrs. McCormack?”
“Thank you dear, I’ll wash them later, I’m afraid I am feeling a bit tired after such a rich breakfast.” She looked up with a weary smile. Jack turned and spoke.
“Don’t worry about it Ma’am, I’ll take care of it. I have some time.”
Tony brought his plate to the sink and handed it to his friend. Jack
spoke,
“Do what you want; I’m leaving at four. That’ll give you seven hours for your little mission. If we’re lucky, we can make it home while there’s still some light.” His tone was final.
Tony’s jaw tightened. He nodded and handed Mason the plate. Nikki stood, leaving her plate on the table; her face was slack, eyes wide. Tony took her by the hand and led her out of the room. Veronica joined Jack at the sink and handed him her two plates. He wouldn’t meet her gaze.
“You’re gonna let them go alone?” Veronica asked
“They shouldn’t be going at all,” Mason said.
Veronica turned away. Jack continued,
“They’ll be fine; his plan is solid.” He reluctantly admitted.
“I’d say the big fella has a crush on her.” Margaret said with a smile. Jack opened the faucet and began rinsing the plates.
“Yep,” he said, “It’s gonna bite him on the ass.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Margaret said looking at Veronica while she sat down, “Every girl needs a good man.”
Veronica gave a half-smile. Margaret sipped at her coffee, another forbidden treat, and suddenly set it back down; the cup clattered on its saucer. Veronica noticed the action and saw the color flee from the woman’s face.
“Are you feeling alright Mrs. McCormack?”
Veronica reached over, took her wrist, and checked her pulse. Margret’s skin was thin and clammy, underneath her heartbeat was difficult to find. It beat rapidly but with a broken rhythm. Jack turned off the taps and stood close by, his face was uncertain. Margaret reached into her pocket and produced a tiny pill. Her hand trembled as she placed the pill underneath her tongue and closed her eyes. She stayed very still for a moment and only breathed; in and out, slowly with a slight rattle. Veronica’s eyes flashed dreadful worry towards Jack. His eyes showed concern but he only shrugged. The old woman leaned back in her chair and opened her eyes with a sigh.
Rise & Walk (Book 2): Pathogen Page 12