Multitudes of people all stared as we biked past. Food and water were on most of their minds. The patrol man peddled only to meet my speed. He could undoubtedly beat me in a short-or long-distance ride. As we rode, I noticed that even a few miles from the green zone (my interpretation) was clean of debris and cars. Food and water were the driving forces … along with boredom.
As we came up to the hospital, I could see the guards in front. There was also a desk outside with a chair and umbrella. The triage nurse was sitting outside. We both dismounted our bikes and walked to the front.
The patrolman told me to be quiet. He would do the talking.
“Hi, we are here on official business,” the patrolman said.
“Fine,” the triage nurse said. “No guns inside. Only correctional officers with prisoners. They must have a seal from the warden. We are in a state of emergency” she declared. “I am very sorry. We are understaffed. The doctors and nurses who did come back are anxious.”
The patrolman could absolutely identify with her. The governor’s office was also understaffed and overworked.
“Mr. Randal, I will wait here with the two bikes and your rifle,” the patrolman said. “You have forty-five minutes. That’s it, and then we’ve got to bike back,” he said as he looked at a watch someone had loaned to him. It was giving, along with two patrol cars, from the Bangor Police Department.
“Got it,” I said as I got the water and food that Alice had prepared for bartering. I entered the hospital. Damn, I thought, what a smell. It seems more like the Bates Motel than a hospital. First thing’s first. I had to urinate badly. I found a bathroom that worked. I had not used a bathroom since 8:00 a.m. No Dunkin’ Donuts or Starbucks.
The police were with me at all times, so I could not go behind a building. The bathroom smell was bad. But Mother Nature held the trump card. I stepped up to the urinal and kept singing, “Oh, what a relief it is.”
Then I washed my hands. Damn, no paper towel and no hand blower. I washed my hands anyway. The hospital still had hand sanitizer. That constant noise from gas generators would drive anyone nuts. The few nurses and doctors were all running and looked haggard. I asked several nurses and one doctor to find Alice’s mother. No one knew. No computers or phones made the situation very challenging. I was finally directed to the third floor. The intake staff could possibly help me.
“Can you help me locate a patient please?” I politely asked the staff member.
“I am not sure. Give me a name, and I will try,” the staff member said.
I gave her Alice’s mother’s name.
“She is eighty-three, five-foot-three with a slight figure,” I described for the man.
“I remember her. She was due for a bypass surgery. The doctor was having a hard time with the limited staff and equipment. We have not seen the doctor for the past two days,” the staff member said with a bit of sadness. “I can direct you to a resident doctor. He was learning and practicing under him,” the staff member said, trying to help.
Carrying my gallon of spring water and food, I located the resident doctor on the second floor.
“Excuse me, Doc,” I said firmly. “I am the son-in-law of an eighty- three-year-old patient you had.” Then I pulled out my ID.
“Yes, I remember,” he said with his head down.” She was to have a simple bypass surgery. We could not line up enough support technicians and equipment to do the operation,” he said softly. “The doctor was called into another hospital that had everything in place. I am very sorry. She passed away without pain. We spend our lives trying to save people. Now we are forced to make hard and painful decisions. She is down in the basement. We are running out of room for the deceased,” he said with a tinge of anger. “We can smell the corpse up to the third floor. We have gas generators. We need someone to handle the deceased.”
“Doc, I need syringes and insulin. It is for a seventies-plus diabetic.” I held my hand over my face with disbelief.
“We have a protocol to help the younger people first. It is from the surgeon general in Washington. I think it is from the past administration,” he said calmly.
“Look, Doc. Fresh spring water and also some freshly cooked food. I will trade it for thee syringes and insulin.” I still had my hand on my face. “Really, Doc, water and food represent life. Syringes and insulin will save a life,” I said in a determined way.
“All right, Mr. Randal, you have gone through a lot,” the doc said with compassion. “Here is a slip. The pharmacy is on the second floor. Do not mention the age of you friend.” As he accepted the water and food, he said, “I do not make the rules. It’s not my pay grade.”
God, the pain did not end. There was a battery clock on the second floor. I had ten minutes left. Alice was in a fragile state. This was going to be hard on her—not being with her mom when she passed. I ran to the second floor. The pharmacist said he would be with me in a few minutes. He was filling a few other orders.
“Look, there is a police escort outside from the governor’s office. They want me out there in less than ten minutes. They are very strict. Go look for yourself,” I said to the pharmacist.
“Here, Mr. Randal.” He came from back of the room.” These syringes will work. We do not have the insulin the doctor wrote up. I am giving you a different one. It will work, just not as well as the other one. One is for an older person,” he said as if to get rid of me.
I started to panic. I only had a few minutes left. I ran up to the front desk.
“What happens to the deceased?” I said “We store them in the bottom floor. A technician is trying to preserve them, My guess is they will be put in a pauper’s grave. It is not a good scene. There is a careful log of everything,” the receptionist declared.
I ran outside. The patrolman was still there.
“You’re two minutes late,” the patrolman said as he looked at his watch. “How did it go?”
“Mixed, very mixed,” I answered him as I put the package in my basket.
I slung the rifle over my shoulder and mounted my bike. We were off. Both of us peddled a little fast. The 2:00 p.m. deadline was coming fast. It was all right weather for a bike ride—cool with on-and-off rain showers. We biked by hundreds of people. There were no incidents.
We pulled into the parking lot. The lieutenant and Officer Ryan were both there.
“Good timing, Mr. Randall,” the lieutenant said as he walked over to the Buick.
I took the package out of the basket. I handed back the bike to the patrolman. I wanted to kiss the Buick, but I was sure they would think I was weird.
“Mr. Randall, one more stop before we go back,” the lieutenant said.
Both had bought their duffle bags back. I think there was a good exchange.
The lieutenant bought some plans with him. He also came back with a few need supplies.
As I entered the Buick, I put the package under my seat. I put the rifle on the dashboard.
I could get at it right away. It was also a signal to any potential thugs.
The lieutenant directed me to our next stop. It was another hospital.
This time we were visiting his commander.
It was a good ten-minute ride from where we were.
We saw the volunteers with the armbands. They were trying to move some more stalled cars out of the way. It was hard business, but these streets were a lot easier to navigate. We came up to the front entrance of the hospital. Mostly people were walking, but with the state police banners, we just parked out front. They had a similar setup. The number of people trying to enter the hospital had greatly increased.
With guards and a triage nurse outside, they could weed out a lot of people. There was also a staffing problem. Many nurses, maintenance men, janitors, and even a few doctors did not show up. Without proper equipment, salaries, and public transportation, there was little incentive to
show up.
The lieutenant said he needed thirty-five to forty minutes inside the hospital. Officer Ryan and I waited by the car. As the lieutenant headed inside, I noticed a large gathering about three to four blocks away. I told Officer Ryan I would like to check it out. I would stay in eyesight of him. I grabbed my keys and took my rifle with me. I slung the rifle over my right shoulder. I was not going to leave the keys with anyone, period. My family, collaborative, and my self-worth depended on those keys. Before we used to never leave home without a cell phone and your AAA card. Now it came to even a simpler need—a rifle and a set of keys. It was sad. It was one small step for the one who set off the nuke … and one giant step backward for mankind.
I walked toward the large group of people. There was a large screen on the side of the building. Damn, some tech nerd hooked up a small generator. As information came in over the survival radio or by some other secured means the nerd’s video setup made it public. Information kept us sane.
It prevents anxiety and connects us to the outside world. Man, how hard was it for Lewis and Clark? They set out to explore without any contact. I was very careful. I did not want to be jumped. I did still have the state police jacket. Next to me there was a tall African man. He had a slight build and short haircut.
I said hello to him, and he spoke in broken English.
“I am from Kenya, and I came to win my big check,” commented the polite Kenyan.
“Big check?” I asked with curiosity in my voice.
“Yes, a very big check. The winner of the Boston Marathon receives a very large check,” he said with a slight sadness. “I have trained very hard. I was in the hotel when the nuke went off.”
“What happens to you now” I asked with compassion.
“Our consulate is at the same hotel as I am. We have contacted the Canadian embassy. They are sending three buses down from Montreal.
As a courtesy to Boston Marathon, they will donate two of the buses. I will leave with several other foreigners.”
“That will be good for you,” I said with upmost admiration.
“Yes, it will be great. Electricity, TV, transportation, food, newspapers, I miss it. America, so many people dream of coming here.
I hope you can bring back your greatness,” he said.
I said good-bye to him. It had been a good fifteen to twenty minutes.
I hoped when the lieutenant came out, he looked at the hospital clock.
The staff there had the ones with batteries in them. I opened the front door. I took off my rifle and put it next to me. I kept the keys in my left pocket. I did not want to hurt Officer Ryan’s feelings. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him. The keys were just extremely sacred. Only I and Randy were to touch them and have them—period.
The lieutenant came out with a smile on his face. “Good news,” Officer Ryan said with a jubilant look.
“Yes, very good news. She is doing well,” said the lieutenant.
I had mixed emotions as I started the Buick. Alice’s mom was gone, and I had to tell her. Still I was haunted by the death of the angry bitch.
And we still had to traverse the war zone to get back.
We traveled for several miles, and now we were at the outer barrier.
We stopped the car for the guardsmen. They had to inspect all of the vehicles coming and going. They wished us good luck and Godspeed.
The lieutenant did inform them that he had a talk with the governor’s top people. They had several vintage cars, motorcycles, and a few army vehicles that had Faraday protection. They would soon bring in rice, water, bread, and a squadron of highly trained force. The governor knew that this main route needed to be protected.
As we drove off, the lieutenant said to Officer Ryan and me, “I told the governor that if he gave me the green light, I could handle this in one night. I think he was afraid of his poll numbers. We started to drive slower. There were less and less people. It became very quiet. I drove even slower. Occasionally we saw an window open. All the people felt terrorized. I wanted to tell them that help was coming tomorrow. If we did that, these thugs would start breaking into their apartments tonight.
We passed the area where we saw them last. The lieutenant signaled us to stop. This time he played it differently. He walked on the left, and Officer Ryan walked on the right. I followed close by, driving very slowly. Ten minutes went by, and there was nothing. We were still on high alert. We crawled around the bend. Then those dark evildoers came out of the shadows. The lieutenant sprang into action. If we were too defensive, they would pick us off. The lieutenant ran toward them.
He stopped and put his finger in his mouth. The he checked the wind direction. This time he saw the same big bully. Instinct told him that he was the head of the snake. We knew that if we cut off the head, the snake would die. It was a real dilemma. There were hundreds of people inside those apartments. They would become future witnesses of whatever happened.
The lieutenant knew this. He had to get the bully to shoot first. He was a good one hundred feet away. It would be an almost impossible shot for the bully with his 9mm. The lieutenant knew it was a shot he had made hundreds of time. He waved his hand toward his face. He was egging the bully on to take a shot. Even an Olympic shooter would have a hard time making the shot. Nothing happened. The lieutenant stepped in another ten yards. He held the rifle with his right hand. He waved his left hand toward his face. This time Officer Ryan got a pair of big ones. He walked up to the lieutenant and then pointed his shotgun at the bully.
In reality, a shotgun at this distance was useless, but the rifle with the red light was a game changer. Officer Ryan stepped another five feet to the side. The bully was now in a cross fire. The other maggots were backing off. The lieutenant really wanted to pick him off. However, if he shot first, the truth would come out later. It would have been the end of his career. There were no face-saving measures for the bully. He was mad. He lowered his gun and waved his hand in a disgusted manner. This bully was pure evil, and the lieutenant needed to let the proper authorities know.
His two tours in Iraq had taught him a lot about the streets. Evil was evil. You couldn’t talk to evil or reason with evil. If you didn’t eradicate evil, it would spread. Officer Ryan and the lieutenant walked back to the car. This time the lieutenant sat on the hood on the passenger side.
Officer Ryan sat inside with the window open. I drove at fifteen miles per hour. It was a lot faster than walking. At this speed the lieutenant could handle the lookout. After several hundred yards, the lieutenant signaled for me to stop. He got inside. Now I could drive at normal speed.
Honestly I didn’t want to go through that again. I have always respected our soldiers who fought to keep us free. They deserve the best we can give them. We approached the first inner beltway. We were now safe and headed home. I was not sure of the exact time, but it must have been a little after 4:00 p.m. It was an eventful day. I was really sad about Alice’s mother. If the tactical team showed up tomorrow, it would be great. The lieutenant had a Faraday line in the barracks. He had a good friend who would be on the patrol too. If a convicted killer escaped from a prison, there were different rules of engagement. The authorities could shoot first.
All three of us felt this bully had already taken innocent lives. All of us thought that the three corpses were the result of the bully’s actions. I felt the governor would give his friend the go-ahead. Even though I was emotionally drained, I had accomplished a lot. Many lives would be saved. I wanted to go back to Alice and my family. No more house calls just mail in the money the doctor said.
CHAPTER 5
Homeward Bound
WE HAD JUST crossed over the inner beltway, and we were leaving Boston. The three of us gave sighs of relief. You could see the relief on the lieutenant’s face. He was more relaxed, less stressed. His expression was even better than it was on the day I gave him some of th
e spring water.
One can last many days without food, but not without water. In the city there were hundreds of people who are afraid of coming out of their apartments. The city water was still running, and I hoped they were using gas generators.
I was happy with our collaborative. We just had to feed and provide water to about a dozen families. Taking care of thousands of apartment dwellers would be a nightmare. There was no way they could feel as free as the three of us did right now. But I had to tone down my concern for them in order to survive. All I could do was help and pray for my family, our collaborative, and those who would become part of my path in life.
As we were driving, I could hear the engine of a military cargo plane. There was a base not far from our home. The military tried to get a variance to expand many years ago. The neighbors fought them hard. In the end the air base gave up. How sad. Now we could definitely use it. It was odd not seeing those small puddle jumpers flying. Almost everyone lost contact with the control towers when the nuke went off. Some of the experienced pilots landed in fields and highways. Many had unhappy endings.
The mood in our car was relieved but still solemn. At this point I no longer needed directions from the lieutenant. We just took our turn off the main road. As I weaved in out of stalled cars, I noticed Attorney Schiller’s house. He was out there with a small push lawn mower. He had all the time in the day to do his own maintenance now. After a few more blocks, we arrived at Officer Ryan’s house. As I pulled into his driveway, his wife heard the car engine and came out to greet us. I turned off the engine and grabbed the steering wheel with both hands. It was like I had to hold on to something before I allowed myself to let out a sigh of relief. Officer Ryan and the lieutenant thanked me. I was anxious to see Alice and the kids. I said good-bye and started up the Buick for the drive home.
Boston Darkens Page 10