Island Refuge EMP Box Set | Books 1-3

by Hamilton, Grace

  Best to avoid groups of people, he thought.

  Though they’d only been in the camp a short time during their first trip here, it was still burned into his brain. He had a pretty good idea of how to get to the medical tent, since Garret had been taken there upon their arrival last time. It was close to the center of camp, not far from Rod Smith’s command tent. To avoid Rod, he led the group a bit farther to the west, then circled around.

  There were no actual roads through the camp, but people had worn paths between the campfires and tents, creating a crude system of trails. As Malin turned a corner, looking for familiar places, he saw an intersection ahead where many paths converged at a large campfire. Despite the very early hour, something was bubbling in a giant pot over the flames. Two militiamen were standing beside the fire, chatting, and one of them glanced in Malin’s direction. Malin would have diverted course, but he feared it would draw suspicion. Instead, he led Archer and Spence to the edge of the path and kept going.

  The guards returned to their conversation, and Malin picked up on some of it

  “I volunteered to go,” one of them was saying. “I want to go.”

  “You’re crazy, man,” the other guard replied. “The National Guard is protecting that place. There’s bound to be a firefight.”

  “No, we’re sneaking in at night. The commander doesn’t want to draw too much attention to the camp with an open battle.”

  “If there’s a fight, we just can’t leave any survivors,” the first guard said. “That’s the trick. No survivors, no reports, right? I hope we go in guns blazing. I’m sick of standing around all the time. They probably have a lot of good stuff in that warehouse. Maybe the commander will share the wealth.”

  “A newbie like you isn’t going to get much,” the second guard said.

  Malin was just passing then, keeping his head down, trying not to draw their attention again. Suddenly, the second guard, an older gentleman with a scraggly gray beard, turned and addressed Spence.

  “Are you a newbie, too?” he asked.

  Spence seemed caught off guard, and he sputtered for a second. “Sorry, guys, just keeping an eye on these two losers,” he said, finally, gesturing at Malin and Archer with his rifle. “Yeah, I’m pretty new around here. Joined up last week.”

  “So you’re not going on the raid either,” the first guard said. He was a much younger guy, with a patchy black beard and chubby cheeks. “We’re hitting another warehouse next week.”

  Spence signaled for Malin and Archer to stop. Apparently, he intended to speak to these guards. It seemed like a dangerous game to play. If he said the wrong thing, he would expose them. At the same time, it was a great opportunity to gain some information. But Malin knew he didn’t dare say anything. As a civilian, his job was to huddle in brokenness and misery.

  “No, I’m not going on the raid,” Spence said. “Not to that warehouse. Actually, Rod…I mean, the commander…might put me on the team that’s going to deal with the island. Unless that’s changed.” The guy was doing a great job playing the part, as he gave the guards a sudden, confused look. “Hey, you haven’t heard anything about a change in plans, have you? I’ll be pissed if the island raid is off.”

  The young guard shrugged, but the old guy said, “The commander definitely wants payback from everything I’ve heard. He lost two guys on the bridge. I don’t know if they’re dead or what. But I’m not sure when the raid is happening.”

  “Oh man, if it happens, I want to go,” Spence said. And then, to Malin’s alarm, he reached into a pocket and pulled out his Mentos, as if by instinct. He unwrapped it from its plastic baggie, dug out a mint with his thumb, and popped it in his mouth. “Is it going to be a full-scale raid? That’s what I heard.”

  “Hey, where did you get that?” the young guard said, pointing at the pack of mints.

  Only then did Spence realize he was holding the mints, and he looked down at them sheepishly. “Found them,” he said. “You want one?” He dug out a mint and gave it to the young guard.

  “Dang, can’t remember the last time I had one of these,” the young guard said, receiving the mint in his open hand like he was being given a communion wafer.

  When Spence tried to give a mint to the old man, he shook his head. “I don’t know much about the island raid. No one does. Rumor has it they were talking about using a dive team to lower the drawbridges, but nobody wants to be shark bait.”

  Spence laughed at this, but Malin thought it sounded forced. The Mentos incident had rattled him, apparently. “No way am I volunteering for that,” he said. “I’ll stay on the bridge and shoot.”

  “You’ll do whatever the commander says, actually,” the old guard said. “Just tell him you can’t swim real good. Then again, he’s got a sense of humor. You tell him that, you might be the first one he sends into the water.”

  Spence forced another laugh. “Well, I guess I’ll follow orders. I’d rather go than not go. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “I heard some fellas talking about using shark repellant,” the young guard said. “They said one of the Army men used it, and he got all the way across the bay.”

  “There’s no such thing as shark repellant, far as I know,” the old guard said. “You shouldn’t believe every dumb thing the fellas tell you.”

  “Didn’t say I believed it,” the young guard grumbled, kicking dirt.

  Malin managed to make eye contact with Spence and gave him the slightest shake of the head. It’s time to go, buddy. Spence got the message.

  “Well, thanks, fellas, but I’d better get going,” he said. “We’ve got a delivery to make here. Don’t want to keep the commander waiting.” He gestured at Malin and Archer again.

  “Fine,” the old guard said, turning to gaze into the fire. “Just don’t get too uppity about what you’ll do and not do. If you’re a newbie, it’s better to do as you’re told. Don’t be like my stupid friend here.” He nodded at the young guard. “Bit of advice.”

  The young guard finally popped the mint in his mouth, and Malin thought for a second that he might cry. His lower lip quivered, and his eyes scrunched up as he began to chew. Spence used that as his chance to leave. He nodded at the old guard and pointed at Malin and Archer, as if to say, “Get going.”

  Malin didn’t need to be told twice. This conversation had seemed like a huge risk, and he was practically shaking as he walked away. Still, the words of the old guard lingered in his mind. Rod could put together a sizeable force to take the island, and if they got the drawbridges down, it was all over. There wasn’t much the handful of Marines and the islanders could do to protect themselves.

  It sure would be nice to take out Rod Smith while we’re here, Malin thought. That might put an end to any talk of raiding the island.

  Of course, there was the more pressing matter of getting out of the camp alive. Malin felt a tremendous sense of relief once they were out of sight of the two guards. He thought he recognized this part of the camp. If memory served, the big hospital tent where they’d kept an injured Garret was a short distance ahead and to the right, next to a large open space. He headed in that direction, but when he saw another campfire with a guard seated beside it, he diverted course.

  He turned a corner and froze in his tracks. Straight ahead, a large group of guards had just stepped into view, coming out from behind a large tent and moving with purpose. Malin thought he recognized a few of them, though he didn’t know any of their names. Moving in the midst of them was a tall, well-built fellow with a chiseled face and close-cropped blond hair. He wore a long-sleeved camouflage shirt with silver buttons which caught the campfire light and sparkled. The man’s arms strained the sleeves of his shirt, and a silver star gleamed above the brim of his hat.

  Rod Smith himself. Oh yeah, this guy is a little emperor in the making, Malin thought. He’s got the look.

  Rod’s group was headed right for them, and Malin’s immediate instinct was to flee. Instead, by sheer force of will, he
made himself keep moving forward, then took the next left and moved away from Rod’s group. He kept his gaze fixed on the ground and did his best to look like he was just going about his business, gripping his bucket tightly so he wouldn’t drop it. As he hurried away, he heard Rod’s men pass behind him, Rod’s voice speaking low to his men.

  A little too close, Malin thought, feeling sweat running down his cheeks.

  13

  It had almost become their regular meeting place, Dr. Ruzka seated on one side of the cot, Selene seated on the other. They didn’t have to plan it. They just sort of wound up there every couple of hours, doing their rounds. Selene thought they’d developed a rather nice rhythm to their medical care. The doctor came with her big medical bag, Selene with her herbal bag, and they sat down and went to work.

  Her focus was drawn away from this developing friendship as soon as she began to check on the patient. Ant had flung his blanket back at some point and seemed to have tried to pull his shirt off. He was sweaty and flushed, breathing loudly through his mouth, and occasionally moaning or trying to say something. A large plastic bucket beside his bed, intended as a bed pan, was still empty. They’d tried to roll him onto his side numerous times so he could relieve himself, but so far he hadn’t been able to produce any urine.

  “I came to this island to help George and Danny,” the doctor said, rooting through her bag. “If I’d had any idea I would be treating traumatic injuries like this, I would have brought surgical supplies. I’m not a surgeon, but still…this man needs help I can’t provide. For one thing, he needs a catheter.”

  Selene leaned in close to the Marine’s face. “Ant, can you hear me?” she asked, speaking loudly.

  His lower lip moved up and down, but he only managed to groan softly. Dr. Ruzka started to peel back the bandage, but Selene could already see blotchy red patches across the man’s white belly.

  “He’s septic,” she said.

  “I think so,” the doctor replied, pulling a thermometer out of her bag and placing it in his mouth.

  Selene pulled out a small pouch and opened it, revealing a small powder she’d made from mixing garlic, burdock, and rosehips. Using a small paper funnel, she poured the powder into a half-full water bottle.

  “This is supposed to help with sepsis,” she said, screwing the cap on the bottle and swirling it. “Do you think we can get him to drink it?”

  “We can try,” the doctor replied. She pulled the thermometer out and held it up to the lamplight. “His body temperature is low. Ninety-four-point-six.”

  “Does that happen?” Selene asked. “I thought people with sepsis usually run a fever.”

  “It can be high or low,” the doctor replied, wiping off the thermometer with an antiseptic cloth and placing it back in its plastic container. “Either way is bad.”

  Working together, they tried to get Ant to sip some of Selene’s herbal treatment. The doctor gently pried his mouth open, while Selene poured the solution in a little at a time. He swallowed some, but then he coughed and sputtered, spat out the rest, and began to thrash.

  “Well, he got some of it, at least,” Selene said, putting the cap on the water bottle.

  Dr. Ruzka sighed as she removed the old bandage, revealing the oozing, stitched bullet wound. “I believe he’s either got bullet fragments or debris in the wound. I’m not a trauma surgeon, and I don’t have surgical equipment anyway. There’s just not much we can do but try to keep him comfortable. If they bring antibiotics back from the camp, he might have a chance, but that’s a big if.”

  Next, she pulled out a stethoscope and listened to his breathing as Selene cleaned the wound and rebandaged it. Then, she pulled out an old-fashioned blood pressure kit and wrapped it around his arm. As the doctor checked his blood pressure, Selene thought to turn in her seat and look at their other patient.

  Cat was sprawled on her cot but watching them like a hawk. Selene tried to give her an encouraging smile, but the Marine just stared hard at Ant. When she heard the hiss of air being released from the blood pressure cuff, Selene turned back around.

  “You’re the herbal expert here,” Dr. Ruzka said. “What are good, natural ways to raise blood pressure?”

  “Ginseng, guarana, licorice, arnica,” Selene said, rattling off the first answers that came to her. “I have the ginseng, but that’s it. Let me get some.”

  Dr. Ruzka packed away all of her gear, set her bag in her lap, and wrapped her arms around it. “Not much more we can do for him than that. We’ll need to keep vigil here, though. He needs someone keeping an eye on him. His condition is critical.”

  Selene produced a ginseng pill. They spent a minute trying to get him to swallow it. It finally ruptured in his mouth, and he reflexively swallowed most of the powder. It was the best she could do, so she pulled the blanket back over him, dabbed his face with a damp rag, and packed away the rest of her herbs.

  “He’s not gonna make it,” Cat said. She had her hands tucked behind her head, and since she was wearing a tank top, it made the bulge of her biceps prominent. Selene found her quite scary, even though she’d never said a mean or rude thing. “I knew he wasn’t going to make it as soon as I saw the bullet wound.”

  Selene was shocked when tears sprang into the woman’s eyes. She quickly wiped them away, but more came.

  “Don’t give up on him yet,” Selene said. “They might come back with something that will help.”

  “They might come back,” Cat said. “That’s right. Dang, Ant and I went through boot camp together. I’ve known that guy since day one. Didn’t think it’d end like this, dying in some back closet in an old bed-and-breakfast. Weird times.”

  “The situation is far from hopeless,” Dr. Ruzka said. “He’ll still got some fight in him.”

  “If you say so, Doctor,” she replied.

  Selene and the doctor moved to Cat’s cot next to check on her hip wound. She was in much better shape, of course, though the wound was far from healed. Still, they cleaned and rebandaged it, and Selene gave her a garlic and honey pill to help with healing.

  “Hey, let me ask you a question,” Cat said, as Selene was taping the new bandage in place. “Do you guys keep bug-out bags around the island?”

  “Well, we have some first aid kits in the bathroom of the guesthouse, if that’s what you mean,” Selene said.

  “No, not really the same thing,” Cat replied. “A bug-out bag is a short-term survival kit, so if you get caught out somewhere, or if you have to evacuate your home suddenly, you can take care of yourself. Some people call them a seventy-two-hour kit.”

  “I don’t think we have anything like that,” Selene said. “What do you put in them?”

  “Enough food and water for a few days,” Cat replied. “Air filtration mask, first aid supplies, socks and underwear, tools, knives, pepper spray, a handgun, meds—whatever you might need. You should create a few bug-out bags and stash them around the island.”

  “You think we’ll need them?” Selene asked.

  “You never know,” Cat said. “Trouble’s coming. Better get on that soon. Heck, I’ll help you put them together. Get the other islanders, get Fish, make them help, too.”

  Quite frankly, Selene didn’t want to think about it. Yes, a worse enemy was on the way. Things were going to get really bad on the island. Selene knew this, she’d heard it with her own ears, but it hadn’t quite sunk in.

  “Okay, I’ll recruit the others to help with that,” she said, after a moment.

  When Selene came through the back door of the guesthouse, she heard a clash and clatter, someone muttering curses under his breath. At first, she didn’t see anything, as if the sounds were coming from thin air. Then George Pasqualee rose up from behind the bar, kicking a cabinet shut with his heel. He harrumphed loudly and smacked the bar top with his big hands. Then he noticed Selene standing just inside the door and gave her a sheepish look.

  “Is there a problem?” she asked.

  “No, no, just looking for
something,” he said.

  He moved out from behind the bar and headed for the hallway. She followed him.

  “Hey, George, I’ve got a little task that we could all work on,” she said. “We’re going to put together these things called bug-out bags, like survival kits, and I’d like to get as many people as possible helping.”

  He led her into the kitchen, where he began rooting through the drawers. When he didn’t respond to her, she started to repeat herself. Finally, he glanced at her over his shoulder.

  “Sorry, Selene, I’m sort of distracted right now,” he said. “I’ve lost something, and I really want to find it. Why don’t you go recruit the others? Danny is up and moving around. Norman is down there helping that young Marine. The Dulleses are doing absolutely nothing useful. The guy named Fish looks bored. There are a lot of people who can help.” He sounded unusually irritated, and his sharpness actually hurt her feelings.

  “Okay,” she said. “Do you mind if I ask what you’re looking for?”

  He slid a drawer shut, leaned against a counter for a second, and said, “Picture album. Photographs of my wife and I when we were younger. I stashed them somewhere in the guesthouse, but I can’t remember where. For a long time, I didn’t want to look at them, but now…” He shook his head. “I just really need to find them.” He turned to her. “But you go make your bags. That sounds important. The others will help, I’m sure of it.”

  Selene nodded. “I’ll keep an eye out for picture albums.”

  “Please do,” he said softly, stroking his long white beard, then adding, “I miss her so much, more now than ever, but I’m thankful she’s not here to see the state of the world. It would’ve been really hard on her.”

  Selene didn’t know how to respond to this, so she tried to give him a sympathetic look before backing out of the kitchen and heading down the hall to the lobby, where Chloe and Daniel were playing fetch with Sniffy. The little Bichon Frise had made a new friend. It was a good thing. Selene knew it was best for the dog, and for the kids, but somehow it made her sad. Sniffy didn’t even run to her when she entered the room.