Island Refuge EMP Box Set | Books 1-3

by Hamilton, Grace

  How extensive is the damage from the storm? That was the question racing through her head over and over. How much of my aqueduct fell down?

  She was the first to arrive at the dining table. Malin came next, looking far too bright and chipper as he sat down next to Elna and dug into the strange berry salad that was the first course. Norman appeared with their guests a few minutes later.

  “You can spare a little time to fill your bellies,” Norman was saying as he came through the door.

  “I guess you’re right,” Raymond said. “A full belly will make the work easier.”

  “Dad, I’m hungry,” Daniel said.

  “You have an appetite?”

  “Yes, sir. Right now, I do.”

  They sat down across from Elna, and Joe shuffled over to serve them a plate of salad. Selene and Sniffy came next. The little dog seemed half-asleep as Selene petted him.

  “I hope the rain passed,” she said, looking at Elna. “I need to take Sniffy out, but he won’t step outside if it’s raining.”

  “The storm is gone,” Elna said. “We’ll have to assess the damage after breakfast.” She sighed at the prospect.

  I have to start building things so sturdy that the storms can’t harm them, she thought.

  Her father appeared last, and she heard his coarse breathing before he walked through the door. Turning in her chair, she caught a glimpse of the pained look on his face—his lips pulled back in a grimace—before he attempted to fix a smile on his face.

  “Pop, are you okay?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

  Giving her a big, fake grin, he shrugged and shuffled across the room. “Nothing’s wrong. Just slept in a little bit too long today.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Instead of answering right away, he paused halfway down the table, grabbed the back of Norman’s chair, and bared his teeth. Norman gave him a questioning look, but George waved it off and continued to his seat.

  “I’m just feeling a bit under the weather,” he said, easing into his chair. “It’s not a big deal.”

  Elna studied his face. She didn’t want to confront him in front of everyone else, but something was definitely wrong. Did he have a touch of the flu? Was it something more serious? Maybe he was weak from being underfed.

  “Pop, I want you to eat everything on your plate this morning,” Elna said.

  “Of course. Of course,” he replied, giving his beard a generous scratching before picking up his fork.

  Elna resumed eating, even as Joe and Rita brought the next course of boiled potatoes. Raymond spent much of his time constantly encouraging his son to take bigger bites, but despite claiming to have an appetite, Daniel only nibbled at his food.

  “So, Raymond, what’s the plan today?” Malin asked. “Have you carefully weighed your options?”

  “I have one option,” he replied. “What else can I do? I must repair the boat and set sail as soon as possible. We rested for one night, and now I must try to help my son.” He laid a hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “Sir, will you help me?”

  Malin glanced at Elna, but she averted her gaze. She didn’t want to make the decision for him.

  “Yeah, I’ll help,” Malin said. “What needs to be done?”

  “I’m not sure until we can get down to the boat. I know we’ll have to repair the mainsail,” Raymond said, “and possibly some of the rigging. There might be damage to the hull as well. I don’t know. Maybe the storm rolled it like a barrel and smashed it to pieces last night. If so, then I guess we build a raft.”

  “Can it be done?” Malin said, looking at Elna again. “The repairs, I mean. Not building a raft.”

  “Of course,” she replied. “We can sew the ripped sail with strong twine, patch the hull with epoxy. Yeah, Raymond, we’ll get you back on the sea, if that’s what you really want.”

  “It’s not what I want,” he said. “It’s what I need.”

  Elna scooped up some potatoes. “I understand.”

  “I hope you’ve got a plan for dealing with militias,” Norman said, pointing his spoon in Raymond’s direction. “We ran into some really bad guys on the mainland, and, believe me, you don’t want to mess with them. They’re all armed and crazy.”

  Daniel gave his dad an anxious frown. “Do we have to go, Dad? Can’t we stay here?”

  “You need medical help,” Raymond said. “You know what could happen if we wait.” He turned back to Norman. “We’ll do our best to avoid the militias. If bad people catch us, we’ll appeal to my son’s sickness. Maybe they will have a heart.”

  “That’s a big old maybe,” Norman muttered, shaking his head.

  “It is enough.” Raymond took another bite and gestured for his son to do the same.

  He’s determined to go, and why should we stop him? Elna thought. I would do the same in his place. Heck, maybe the clinic will be open by some miracle.

  That sparked a thought in her mind, but she wanted to play with it for a while.

  “Raymond, Malin and I will help you with the boat after breakfast,” she said. “If we can make her seaworthy, we’ll give you a bit of food and water and set you guys on your way. How does that sound?”

  Raymond smiled at her, tears in his eyes. “Thank you. If there is some way I can repay you, please let me know. I don’t have much.”

  Maybe there is a way, she thought. I don’t know. I have to turn this over in my mind.

  Elna saw the damage through the window before she even stepped outside, and her heart sank. A section of the aqueduct between the parking lot and the water storage tank had collapsed. It hadn’t fallen all the way to the ground, but a number of supports were broken, leaving it dangling to one side. As she stepped through the door, Malin came up beside her and gently laid a hand on her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, Elna,” he said. “Do you want to get it fixed before we head down to the boat?”

  Yes, she thought. I do want that, but…

  “No, we said we’d help Raymond,” she said, pulling the straps on her backpack. “The tank has enough water for two or three days. We’ll be fine.”

  “You don’t always have to put other people’s needs before your own,” he said.

  I kind of do, though, she thought.

  “We’ll be fine,” she said again.

  Raymond came rushing through the tasting room then, lugging a sack of tools and supplies. They’d left Daniel in the care of Norman, Selene, and Elna’s father. The boy seemed lethargic this morning, even more than the day before, despite a night’s sleep.

  “Sorry,” Raymond said. “I’m ready now. Let’s go.”

  Elna held the door for him, then stepped outside.

  The island was absolutely drenched. Excess water dotted the landscape, glinting between the high grass, filling the ditches between the trellises in the vineyard, running down the dirt path in rivulets. Everything glistened, and the ozone smell of rain filled the air. Actually, Elna quite liked that smell—she happened to know it was called petrichor—even if she wanted to curse the sky for damaging her precious aqueduct.

  Mud made the back trail slippery and more treacherous than usual. They had just come in sight of the old shed when Raymond lost his footing, landed on his butt, and began sliding down the slope. Malin grabbed his arm, but that only dragged Malin down to fall on his knees and slide after him. They kept going for a bit until Malin managed to dig his hand into the mud and drag them both to a stop.

  “Well, that was fun,” Malin said. “Kind of like the Goliath Slide at the Orange County Fair when I was a kid.”

  “Are you okay?” Elna asked.

  He stood and helped Raymond to his feet. “So much for my nice bath this morning,” he said, shaking the mud off his hand.

  Raymond examined the mud slathered down the back of his pants and sighed. “Why fight it, my friend? Just accept the mud and water. They win every time.”

  They continued down the path until they came to the open ground beyond the fence. Elna climbed a
small rise and looked toward the boat. The sloop appeared almost peaceful sitting there in the shallow water, its starboard side nestled against the boat bumpers. The tattered sail hung down in two long pieces, but she didn’t see any obvious hull damage from this distance.

  “She’s a pretty little sloop,” Elna noted. “What’s her name?”

  “I believe she’s called Betty Lynn,” Raymond said, climbing up beside Elna. “I don’t know for sure. The name on the back is faded. Honestly, I found her in the docks just sitting there like so many other boats. I’ll return her someday, somehow. I didn’t have a choice.”

  “We’re all doing what we have to do to survive,” Elna said. “Come on. Let’s see if we can’t get you on your way.”

  They made their way through the old base and past the lighthouse. Elna set her backpack down near the large rock where she’d tied the boat bumpers, laid the crowbar beside it, then approached the water. Raymond dumped the bag of tools beside her stuff and followed her. Malin secured another rope to the rock and followed them, unspooling the rope as he came. Apparently, almost being tossed overboard the previous day had taught him a lesson.

  As Elna picked her way down to the water’s edge, Malin passed her the rope. She wrapped it around her forearm, grabbed it in her hand, and climbed over the gunwale.

  “Is this high tide?” Raymond said.

  “No, not even close. That’ll roll in sometime this afternoon,” Elna said. “If we can get you fixed up by then, it’ll help get you out of the sand.”

  Raymond followed her onto the slanted deck. While Elna inspected as much of the hull as she could see, he dropped the anchor. Elna found a notable crack on the starboard side of the boat’s fiberglass hull where the ship had collided with the rocks in front of the bumpers. It wasn’t bad, but it would need to be patched. Raymond lowered the torn mainsail.

  “Can we fix it?” he asked.

  “Assuming this is the only break in the hull,” she said, “and there’s not a giant gash hidden under the sand, we should be good. We’ll use epoxy. And we have some industrial-strength twine in the winery we can use to stitch up the sail. I think that’s your best hope.”

  Raymond nodded gravely. “Okay, thank you.”

  “Let’s get what we need.”

  She climbed out of the boat and made her way back up to the ledge. When she got there, she saw a bent shape shuffling toward her from the direction of the fence. At first, she thought it was Joe Dulles. How in the world had he managed to bring his creaky body all the way down the hill? Then she noted the flannel shirt and sweatpants, the loafers, and the growing white beard.

  “Pop, what in the world are you doing down here?” she called. “You’re supposed to be watching Danny.”

  He waved at her and continued shuffling toward them. Why did he look so damned old? He didn’t speak until he reached the lighthouse.

  “I’ve done my fair share of boat repairs,” he said. A brief pained look crossed his face. “Just thought I’d offer my expertise.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Raymond said.

  Elna went to her father’s side and tried to help him, but he waved her off. “I’m okay. Just lost my breath on the walk. Almost slid all the way down on the mud. Let me see what equipment you’ve brought.”

  He approached the rock where Elna had set her backpack. Malin stooped down and unzipped the backpack for him, pulling it open so he could see the scraps inside. Then he dragged over the sack and opened that as well.

  “Here you go, Mr. Pasqualee,” he said. “Inspect the goods and tell us how we did.”

  “Let me see here,” he said.

  Pop bent over and reached inside the backpack, flipping through pieces of scrap metal. Suddenly, he made a strange huffing sound and drew his hand back. He started to rise, took a step back, then dropped hard onto his rump on the rocks.

  “George? What’s wrong?” Malin cried, reaching for him.

  Elna grabbed her father by the shoulders and leaned down to look at his face. Eyes squeezed shut, he was taking deep breaths. Elna laid the back of her hand against his forehead. He felt cold and clammy.

  “I’m fine. I’m fine,” he said, in a strained voice, pushing her hand away. “I just got light-headed for a second.”

  He tried to stand up, but Elna restrained him. Kneeling in front of him, her hands on his shoulders, she waited until he opened his eyes.

  “Okay, I’m done dancing around the issue,” she said, fighting an urge not to yell at him. “Something is wrong with you, Pop, and I want to know what it is. Don’t tell me you’re fine. I can see that you’re not. What is it? What are you hiding from me?” Why was he trying to downplay what was clearly a serious problem?

  He started to say something, but then he swooned. His head tipped forward, and his words became a moan.

  “Pop! Look at me.”

  His eyes opened but rolled around. “Fine…fine…” he managed, weakly.

  Elna turned to Malin. “Help me. We have to get him back to the guesthouse. Maybe Selene can figure out what’s wrong with him.” She heard a warble in her voice and felt the first sting of tears. Fighting both, she put her arms around her father and tried to lift him.

  In the end, it took all three of them to carry Pop back to the guesthouse. Malin bore most of the weight, wrapping his arms around Pop’s chest and hoisting him up like a rolled carpet. Elna held his head to keep it from lolling like dead weight, while Raymond carried his legs. The castaway kept apologizing profusely.

  “I should have done the repairs myself,” he said. “I shouldn’t have got you guys involved.”

  “It had nothing to do with that,” Elna said, more than once.

  Her father wasn’t a big man—and he was getting smaller every day—but it took a while to lug him back up the hill. He kept trying to stand up and walk.

  “Pop, don’t move. Just relax. We’ve got you.”

  “I’m okay,” he said. “Trust me. I just had a fainting spell. Put me down. I’ll prove it.”

  “You don’t have to prove anything.”

  Eventually, they got him back to the guesthouse and down the hall to the lobby. They laid him on the couch, and Malin went for a blanket while Elna summoned Selene. She found Selene sitting on the veranda with Norman and Daniel. Everyone gradually congregated around the couch in the lobby, even as Pop regained his strength. Selene knelt beside him, looked into his eyes, and pressed her fingers against the side of his neck.

  “His heart rate is way down,” she said. “Did he stand up or sit down suddenly?”

  “He was bending over,” Elna replied.

  “Yeah, that’s it, but it shouldn’t be this low. Something’s wrong. Does he have a medical condition we don’t know about?”

  Pop tried to sit up, but Elna gently pushed him back down. Malin brought a pillow, and she tucked it under his head. Then she sat down on the edge of the couch, intentionally looming over him. He wouldn’t make eye contact with her.

  “Okay, let’s talk about this,” she said, trying to keep her voice level. She wanted to shout at him. If he’d been hiding something from her, she was going to be pissed! The last thing they needed was a surprise medical emergency. Still, maybe he hadn’t wanted to worry her. “It’s time to come clean, Pop. What have you not been telling me? No more secrets.”

  “I didn’t know how to bring it up,” he replied. His voice was weak, breathy, fading in and out. “On top of everything else, it seemed selfish to add one more problem.”

  “Hiding a problem doesn’t make it go away,” she said. “What is it?”

  His eyes flitted from face to face, taking in all of the people who had gathered around the couch. Finally, they settled on Elna, and he sighed. “I feel bad telling you now. It was never my intention to hide it from you all these years, but it just seemed like an inconsequential problem, and it was easier not to talk about it. Well, Elna, here’s the plain truth of it: I suffer from hypotension. I have since I was a kid. I had a bad case of r
heumatic fever when I was twelve. It started as strep throat and just got worse and worse. Eventually, it damaged my heart.”

  “You’ve had this since you were twelve and never told me, your own daughter?” Elna said, her voice rising despite her best efforts. She felt Malin’s hand on her shoulder.

  “Like I said, it was easy not to talk about it,” he said, pulling the blanket up to his chin as if to shield himself from her wrath. “I take a medication called midodrine, so I almost never have symptoms. As long as I pop a pill three times a day, it’s not a problem. You never noticed because the medicine works.”

  Elna sighed and bowed her head. She felt bad for yelling at him. “Okay, fine. Where is your medication? Did you forget to take it?”

  He grimaced. “I ran out.”

  “You ran out and you still didn’t say anything?” She practically shouted this and clapped a hand over her mouth.

  “I wasn’t paying attention,” he said. “I’ve taken a pill three times a day for so many years, it’s almost instinct. Even when I realized yesterday that the bottle was empty, I just reached deeper into my drawer for another bottle, but I didn’t have one. That was the first time I actually realized I was in trouble.”

  Elna groaned and turned to Selene. “Please, tell me there’s something you can do for hypotension. Is there some kind of herbal treatment that will help?”

  Selene tapped her lips with her finger. Sniffy was curled on the ground at her feet, but he looked up suddenly, as if he sensed the growing problem.

  “More salt in his diet should help,” she said. “Sodium raises blood pressure. Drinking more water will also help, because fluids increase blood volume and prevent dehydration. I don’t suppose you have compression stockings?”

  He nodded. “Doctor gave them to me, but I don’t normally wear them. They might be too loose now.”

  “Start wearing them,” Selene said. “If all of our wine hadn’t been stolen by the militia, I would warn you to avoid alcohol. Tulsi leaves or almond milk would help, but I don’t have either.”