Above the Hush

by Jacqueline Druga

  No sooner did Sandy join us, a thin, younger man wearing scrubs hurried out of the white tent. He rushed our way.

  “I take it you are here for help, as well?” he asked. “Doctor Lange. Adam Lange.”

  “Carl West. This is my friend Audrey and Sandy.”

  “Come with me.” He turned and led the way to the tent. “There’s not another transport until tomorrow, but your welcome to take a tent.”

  “Are you by yourself here?” I asked.

  “No. There are four of us. We are the go between place.” He stepped into the tent. There were at least two dozen cots and a few had patients. He pointed to what looked like an ambulance gurney behind a curtain, then looked at me. “If you want to hop on up there. I am guessing you survived electrocution.”

  “Yes, but no, I don’t need help.” I watched as he looked at West.

  “Audrey, maybe have him look,” West said.

  “No.” I was adamant. “We don’t have time. Sandy is in shock, Doctor, she witnessed … she witnessed her camp … she witnessed them all die.”

  “I understand. Stay here, I’ll be right back.” He took hold of Sandy’s arm and led her down the row of cots. I couldn’t hear what he said to her, but she nodded then laid down. He returned to us. “Now, why isn’t there enough time for me to examine you.”

  Because I knew he was judging my health, I fought to stifle the coughs. Which in turn backfired, causing me to blast out a series of hacks that sounded horrendous.

  He raised his eyebrows. “And you don’t need help?”

  “Honestly, we don’t have time,” I explained, pausing to cough. “I am trying to find my family.”

  “We believe they passed through here,” West said. “Or hope they did. They were traveling with a couple dozen people from their hometown.”

  Adam handed me a bottle of water. “We don’t keep names unless we treat them.”

  “Thank you,” I sipped the water. “I don’t know if any of them were hurt or sick. A man back in Charlottesville thought they were headed this way. Fredericksburg or D.C. Something about the grids being shut down before the event.”

  Adam shook his head. “That’s the third time I heard that. Not true. Now … it is true that a couple of our bases shut down, like with minutes to spare. Not areas. I don’t know about Washington, but in Fredericksburg there is an operating clinic, they radio out, it’s run by military, one of several in this area. They also are the place to go to find your family. They keep track and try to place people in safe areas until this is sorted out.”

  “How do you know this?” West asked. “Are you in communication with them?”

  “When they show up,” Adam replied. “Which is every morning. They come by with a truck.” He looked over his shoulder. “Lot less people today than yesterday.”

  “That’s dangerous,” I said. “And so are the generators in here.”

  “I know when to shut them down,” he said. “They have that charted out. They have been spot on for times down to minutes.”

  “We have a list of times, too,” West said. “I’d like to compare.”

  “Absolutely,” Adam nodded. He looked again at me, when I coughed. “Let me listen to your lungs, just to check. Maybe there is something I can do to help.”

  Again, I declined. “As you know we are on a race against the clock. If they are nearby I want to try to find them before they move out.”

  West added, “And when the area becomes contaminated. I suppose you’ll be moving out, too.”

  “What are you folks talking about?” He asked, then smiled. “Wait. Are you guys talking about North Anna melting down? No.” He waved out his hand. “They are monitoring that. Granted they are trying to cool it to stop a meltdown, but they are there. Trust me. People are even volunteering. They are confident they can cool the core before it hits critical.”

  A part of me shivered out a breath of relief, then I remembered the next geomagnetic storm and what it could do to the generators. “What about the next CME the big one?”

  “We had the big one,” he said.

  West shook his head. “No, there’s another coming. An even bigger one. If that strikes, those generators won’t be safe.”

  “Where are you getting this from?” Adam asked.

  “Colonel Jane Ladka, she worked for NASA and, well, an astronomy student. But they are right about the small ones,” West said.

  “I’m sure they are,” replied Adam “But they’re wrong about the big one. You have those two folks, I get it, but trust me there is a panel of six out of Quantico, and while there is a CME coming, it’s not as big as the one that took us all down.”

  “So what do we do?” I asked. “What do we believe?”

  “You err on the side of caution,” said Adam. “It’s better to be surprised when nothing happens, than angry and ill prepared when it does.”

  “Could I see the list of the people you treated?” I asked. “Maybe I’ll recognize a name or something.”

  “Sure,” Adam replied as he walked toward a desk. “You said there were a couple dozen?”

  “Yes. A transformer blew in the neighborhood and no one had electricity. That’s how they all survived.”

  Adam stopped walking. He looked over his shoulder. “Was this group traveling in old trucks? One was … oh wait. It was a red landscaping truck., With the name spray painted on it. Was it …”

  Excitedly, I blurted out. “Caleb Cobb Landscaping? With a badly drawn …”

  “Ear of corn.” Adam snapped his finger. “Yes. Some guy said he was the mayor.”

  I was so over run with enthusiasm, I jumped and squealed. “When … where?”

  “They followed the transport two days ago. I can tell you the route they would have taken.”

  West placed his hands on my arms and turned me to face him. He smiled. “We know where they went. See we … Audrey?”

  When he turned me, he gave me that slight jolt, I felt my head spin some, not enough to worry about. Until he stared at me, and I realized I couldn’t speak. Was I moving my mouth? I tried. My eyes felt heavy and a black veil took over my vision, first clouding out West, until I couldn’t see him.

  His voice sounded far way. “Audrey?”

  I felt my knees buckle as I made one more attempt to call his name, “West.”

  What was happening?

  32 – CARPENTERS’ WARNING

  I didn’t actually lose consciousness until the moment they placed me on the cot. Before that I was weak, unable to move, I could hear West but my ability to respond was hindered.

  When I woke up, I felt better, stronger, but scared. I knew time had passed. It felt like it had, I just didn’t know how much. I must have sat up when I woke, because Adam inched me back.

  “Easy, easy,” he said.

  “What time is it? We have to go,” I stated panicked.

  “We have time,” West replied. “You need to be strong.”

  “I feel better, I do. Not as foggy.”

  “You were dehydrated,” Adam told me. “You’re fevered, you also have pneumonia in your lower left lobe, and that hand … you are one step away from developing sepsis. I'd hit you with an antibiotic, but Audrey, you are in serious need of medical attention. More than I can give here.”

  “Either way,” Audrey said. “I have to leave here to get it, right?”

  “Yes, but I’m thinking more along the lines of keeping you on the IV and sending you with the truck when it arrives tomorrow.”

  “No offense Doc,” West said. “But we have our travel system worked out so we don’t fall into the deadly car trap and get electrocuted. I don’t trust anyone else. What if … what if you keep the IV in, we’ll tape it behind her in the seat of the car, I’ll hold it when we walk and I promise, we will head straight to Fredericksburg. If we don’t find her family on the way, we’ll get the medical help there. Bottom line, we need to go and we need to go now.”

  Thank you, West, I thought.

  H
e looked at me. “Audrey, if we don’t find them, we can rest assured, they are not in the little circle. That’s the big thing. What do you say, Doc?”

  “Considering you’ll get there faster than waiting on the truck, I’ll agree. Walking has to be kept to a minimum.”

  We both agreed. I was grateful for the IV, for some reason whatever he was pumping in my veins did give me more energy and I didn’t feel as bad.

  Adam give the quick and dirty lesson to West on how to change the IV bag, how to take out and then bandage the cannula, and how to administer the pain medication. He included an inhaler to help me breath, along with an IV pole in case we did have to walk or get out, something I thought was unnecessary. We shoved it in the backseat instead of arguing about it.

  In no time we were back on the road. Problem was, between my little passing out episode, and mini medical training, we had only fifteen hours.

  <><><><>

  The IV tubing connected to my left arm draped across my lap, leading to a bag. West had conveniently rigged the IV by running tape through the bag loop and attaching it to the ‘oh shit’ bar above the passenger’s door.

  Adam had mapped out the route the military rescue trucks had taken, and indicated places that they stopped when a pulse or surge was due to occur.

  It was evident that the military took that road. Cars that had been stranded on the road were pushed to the side creating a unique type of guard railing.

  The route made both West and I nervous, as it took us straight through Mineral, Virginia, home of North Anna Nuclear Power Plant.

  We’d get there soon, I was sure. Through the danger area to Fredericksburg and there would be a way around to get back safely.

  “Two hours,” I said, reading the comparison times between what Troy had given us and the ones Adam gave. “Theirs is one hour. You know, looking at this, they have a surge coming at the same time as our big CME.”

  “You’re not doubting the Colonel, are you?”

  “No, not at all. Just hoping she’s wrong. It makes me feel better knowing there are people working to keep the plant from meltdown.”

  “Yeah, me, too. Let’s hope it’s the same everywhere. You know … we’ve been traveling together and I know nothing about your husband and daughter. Just Michael.”

  “Story of my life. I focused so much energy on trying to reach him, that’s all I did.”

  “It’s your kid. I focused all my energy on trying to heal my son,” West said.

  “How horrible that had to be for you. I am so sorry.”

  “Thank you. You did it again, you know that right?”

  “What?”

  “Talked about Michael instead of your husband.”

  I cringed. “See. You know, we’ll have time to talk about them. My family. Your son. I’d like to do that and …” I tilted my head when the radio cackled with broken music. The entire time we kept that radio on and it scanned. Finally it hit something.

  West reached out and turned up the volume.

  “That’s not a warning static, is it?” I asked.

  “No.” West smiled at me. “It’s a signal.”

  The music came in clear, it sounded old, like something from the fifties. A smooth male voice with ‘oohs’ and ‘bops’. The song ended and a male voice came on.

  “Gotta love it, gotta love it,” the DJ said. “This is Benton the voice of survival, coming to you folks. Might as well add a little music to the warning system. The gents at Quantico tell me we are in the ‘any time now’ mode, so when you hear the cackle of static, you know what to do. Shut it down, step on back. Until then, how about this perfect number?”

  I looked at West when the seventies sound of fingerpicking guitar and keyboards began. “Any time now? That’s not right.”

  “Give an hour leeway it could be.”

  The vocals of the song came on and it caused me to stop and look quizzically at the radio.

  “There’s a kind of hush …” Karen Carpenter sang. “All over the world, tonight. All over the world you can hear the sound of…”

  I laughed. “Oh my God. There’s a kind of hush.”

  “There is really, if you think about.”

  “Just the two of us. And nobody else …”

  Static.

  It did as DJ Benton said, the radio cackled and hissed.

  West hit the brake, threw the car in park and shut it off. He grabbed one of the flashlights, flicking it on as he tossed it out the widow and watched.

  My heart raced, would we be safe in the car?

  It wasn’t even a split second later, I could hear the flashlight rattling on the ground. Sitting back, I exhaled, my hand at my chest, in shock at how close that was. I relaxed only a moment when, I jolted again and sat straight up at the sound of a loud crash.

  It was definitely a car hitting into something.

  West looked straight ahead, then back out the driver’s window. “Okay, flashlight is done. It’s safe.” He reached for the ignition.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. And someone may need our help.”

  I took a breath, as deep as I could when West started the engine and put the car in gear.

  That someone needed help was doubtful to me. More than likely, like everyone else who died on the road, their car became their own personal electrocution chariot.

  We went around the bend and not only did we see where the vehicle veered of the road, we saw the what it was. A truck with the recognizable hand painted name and logo on the side. Standing outside were two men.

  I know West saw it too.

  “West,” I spoke hurriedly, seeing the Caleb Cobb Landscaping truck with that godawful cob of corn on the side with a lawnmower. “The truck.”

  “I know.” He slowed down.

  The two men stepped into the center of the road, waving their arms for us to stop.

  “Do you recognize them?” West asked.

  “No. Not at all. West, they have the truck. How did they get it? Oh my God.”

  “Calm down. Stay cool. Let me handle it.”

  West inched the car toward the men. One was a tall man with sandy blonde hair, the other slightly shorter with a baseball cap. My eyes kept shifting to the hand painted decal on the truck.

  “Boy are we glad to see you,” the tall man hunched down, peering in the window. “We …”

  “Where’d you get the truck?” It just blurted from me in a pretty accusatory tone.

  West glared my way for jumping the gun.

  “Some guy named Walt. Said him and his group didn’t need it they were staying put for a while.”

  West looked at me. “Do you know a Walt?”

  “Yeah, that’s the mayor.”

  The tall man chuckled. “Yeah, he said that. I didn’t believe him.”

  “Where are they?” I asked.

  “Over at Rocky Branch Campground,” he answered.

  “Are they okay? Did you see any kids?” My speech was quick.

  “Yes. Two. Girls I think. One is little. Not sure, listen, we just want to get home.”

  “We just came from that way,” West said. “Louisa is about a mile and a half away. I can drive you up there, I’m sure we can scavenge a vehicle.”

  “Nah.” The tall man lifted his eyes to the sky and stood, “That ain’t gonna work.”

  I jumped back when the one in a baseball cap extended the end of a crossbow through the open driver window.

  “We’re just gonna take yours,” said Tall Man. “Now put the car in park … now. No one gets hurt. Now.”

  My heart raced out of control. We should have known. Should have been more cautious. They had the truck.

  “Okay. Okay.” West did what he was told. “Look we have stuff. Just let us grab…”

  “Out.”

  The car door opened slightly, Baseball Cap Man retracted the crossbow, and West lifted his hands in the air, turning his body as if he were getting out. Just as he did, he kicked open the car door. The force o
f which caught the crossbow knocking it away, and in swinging outward nailed Tall Man, sending him off balance.

  West turned again to get into the car. When he extended his hand for the gear shift, Baseball Cap Man, reached in grabbing him. He pulled at West trying to get him out, and West would have won that battle had Tall Man not reached in as well.

  They pulled him from the car.

  “West!” I screamed.

  The car door shut, then I saw West’s back slam into the window.

  My back was pressed against my own door, watching in horror. I couldn’t breathe, or move, I was shaking. It was a flurry of moving bodies, back and forth in a fight, and my view of it was limited to what was framed by the driver’s side window.

  It was happening so fast, all I knew was I had to do something. My mind spun trying to think of what that could be, which way I could help. but I was jolted from my train of thought with each thud and bang against the car.

  ‘Get out,’ I thought. ‘Grab the keys then get out.” I reached forward for the keys, my fingers slipped in the keychain loop when my door opened fast and I felt the sensation of nothingness against my back as I flew out. My head bounced off a person and as I reached out, trying to get a hold of anything to get back into the car, I felt the tubing of the IV line wrap around my neck.

  I got out one scream. One … that was it. The keys dropped to my lap as I defensively and instinctively, grasped at the tubing around my throat. The bandaged hand was useless and I pulled the tubing with my left, trying to break it, to make it give, anything. It pulled tighter, crushing into my larynx, cutting off my air.

  As I twisted and turned in my desperate struggle, the cannula ripped from my arm and with every move I made, it flapped around.

  In that split second it dawned on me what to do and with that thought, I knew a second was all I had.

  Looking down I could see them.

  I pulled my fingers from the line around my neck, gasped as the grip of it tightened, grabbed the keys that lay in my lap, and with that one shot, hoping against hope that I didn’t miss, I stabbed a key it as hard as I could into the hands around my throat.

  It was enough.

  He not only screamed, he released the strangle hold.