THE TRASHMAN

by Terry McDonald

  Becky slid from the cab to the gravel. “I am so ready for a real mattress. You’re due for another dose of antibiotics. The bottle’s in the glove box. Come on kids, let’s make some beds.”

  *****

  We should have posted a guard that night, but the temptation of real rest, to be able to stretch out and lie straight was simply too great. We took a chance and got away with it.

  Becky had taken comforters from the other beds to add to the ones we slept in. I awoke feeling much too warm. The bright sunlight streaming through the windows informed me it was late morning.

  The stupidity of the evening before, the guilt of not standing guard at least long enough to make sure we weren’t followed to the cabin made me move to get out of bed fast. Big mistake. My belly wound doubled me into a fetal position.

  Becky heard me moan and she rose to sit on her side of the bed. “What’s wrong, Ralph?”

  “I sat up too fast. My belly feels stiff as wood.”

  It took her a while to straighten me so she could examine my wound.

  “Your entire side’s swollen and you made the hole in front start bleeding again. I believe your wound’s infected.”

  “Jesus. All I can do is continue to take the pills and hope for the best. Help me get to my feet. Maybe my side’ll loosen if I move around.” I noticed the silence inside the house. “Are the kids still asleep?”

  “No, they were up hours ago. Will said there were games and toys in the rec-room in the basement. They’re down there.”

  “Damn, we have a basement. I didn’t know that. I wish I’d have known last night when I checked the house. As a matter of fact, I’m going out and check around the place to see if I see any recent footprints or tire tracks.”

  Becky removed her .22 from the nightstand and laid it on the bed beside her. “You can’t see it has a basement from the front. It’s mostly underground with a view of the forest on the downhill slope out back. I’m going with you to check things.”

  We’d slept in the clothing we had on. Other than putting on shoes, socks, and jackets, we were dressed. Becky had to put my shoes and socks on for me.

  We left through the door I’d forced. The lock wasn’t a double dead bolt, and since the jamb had sprung most of the way back to its original position, I’d been able to lock the door behind us.

  The morning was bright and crisp. I guessed the temperature at forty or a bit more. There was a grassy clearing about sixty feet wide all around the cabin. The thick, untouched forest began at the edge, surrounding us with pines, laurel, and hickory. Evergreens ruled the forest and the undergrowth, and if not for the brown stained split-log siding on the house, our world would have been colored green and blue.

  Becky and I began walking the property looking for any sign humans had recently been there. At the back of the house, the ground sloped downhill. There was a narrow path leading into the trees and we could hear the sound of swift-moving water not far off.

  “It’s so beautiful here, so peaceful,” Becky said.

  I put my arm around her waist and pulled her close, hiding a grimace of pain. “You picked it, and from the looks of things, no one’s been by to check on it. I think we’ve found a place to stay.”

  “God, I hope so. Let’s grab your pills from the truck and have breakfast. I’m starved.”

  I pointed to a large shed barely visible in the woods near the trail leading to the creek. “I bet that’s the power house. They probably ran the wires underground. Would you mind cooking while I check it out? I think a hot bath would go a long way in helping my side heal.”

  “Yeah, and it would go a long way towards making us smell better. You do your man thing and I’ll send Will to let you know when breakfast is ready.”

  I glance at the sun overhead. “Brunch more like it. We slept late.”

  The power supply was elaborate. The main generator was a diesel-powered monster. There was a booklet wire-tied to a pipe that gave complete instructions on how to operate it. I skimmed through the guide. It informed me that there was a five-hundred gallon underground diesel-fuel storage tank equipped with an electric pump. The battery for starting was a continuous trickle, charged by a solar panel on the roof of the shed.

  Only one major setback. The system was wired to a solid-state control panel that required an access code to enable the cabin renter to use it.

  I knew enough about electronics to know I’d be able to chop out the solid-state circuitry and hardwire the controls, but I knew it wasn’t going to be a fast or easy job. I left the powerhouse and decided to walk the property some more. Since I hadn’t seen the cabin for the staff the brochure mentioned would be on hand to service a renter in normal times, I walked the perimeter of the clearing looking for the trail I knew would lead to it. As I walked, I raised and lowered my arms in an effort to loosen the muscles in my side.

  I didn’t see a trail leading off the immediate perimeter and decided to walk the trail toward the creek. A hundred feet down the gentle slope, I did find a well-worn trail leading off to the right, but I heard Will calling me to eat and left further exploration for later.

  After lunch, and assurances to Becky that she’d feel the heat, temperature, and water wise, it was back to the powerhouse.

  The first thing I did was snip all the wires going to the circuit board. Then I removed the metal box containing it and set it to the side. Now I had bare essentials to work with. I made a trip to the truck to get pencil and paper to sketch wiring diagrams. Becky had the rollup door open and the loading ramp extended. She, along with Will and Jen were unloading our immediate needs.

  “Hot water. Please tell me hot water soon. I stink, the kids stink,” she paused to lean toward me, “and you stink.”

  “I’m working on it.”

  Three hours later, I was still working on it. I needed line voltage relays to replace the ones incorporated in the low voltage circuits I’d removed. Becky came by; I thought to check on progress.

  “How’s it coming?”

  “I need a few things, but for now I can run everything manually with switches. In the near future, I hope to find another house or cabin to strip a few electrical components. Heck, even a window unit A/C would have what I need.”

  I noticed she had a strange expression on her face.

  “Take a break and come with me. I want to show you something.”

  She led me to the path down toward the creek and then took the branching trail to the right. The staff house wasn’t far along the path, but it was well shielded by thickets of undergrowth.

  There had been no attempt to make the long, one level building look like a cabin. It was a simple structure, plain forest-green painted siding with a small front porch at the nearer end.

  “You’re not going to believe this place,” Becky said, leading me onto the porch. “The door was unlocked so I just went in.” She opened the door and motioned for me to enter.

  It was warm inside. She stepped in behind me and flipped a wall switch and an overhead light came on illuminating a comfortable living room. The floor was ceramic tile. The walls were painted a light blue-grey and the room was furnished with a comfortable couch and several padded armchairs, one a recliner.

  “Come on. I want you to witness a miracle.”

  Feeling like I’d already witnessed miracles, I followed her to a doorless opening that led to a hall. The first opening, again with no door, led into a combination kitchen dining room. She went directly to the sink counter and turned on the hot water tap.

  “Give it a couple seconds and then feel it. I waited, and the steam that began to rise told me the flow was hot.”

  Ever since she flipped on the switch, I’d listened in vain for the sound of a generator. It struck me that this space must be off the grid, but if so, it had to be with top of the line equipment.

  Becky said, “There are three bedrooms down the hall. They share a common bathroom… That’s the next door past the kitchen here.”

  I heard her,
but my eyes were searching for the heat source. I saw no wall or ceiling vents, nor were there any baseboard heaters, but I had seen a thermostat in the living room and there was one in the kitchen as well. A guess prompted me to feel the ceramic floor. The heat was coming from it.

  “This has to be solar,” I said.

  “I think it is. Behind the building, there’s a huge clearing and there’re all sorts of things back there, solar panels covering the entire roof on that side, some attached to the wall of the house as well. There’s some sort of equipment sitting on the ground. It looks like more solar panels sort of, set at an angle, but the inside of the panels has black pipes.”

  “Solar water panels. Wow. Was there a building, a shed, or something?”

  “Yeah, two. One of them is big and it’s full of lawn tools, mowers, rakes, and clippers and such. The other one is smaller. I looked inside, lots of batteries and wiring.”

  My mind was working it. “There has to be a huge holding tank for the hot water, not only for the taps, but for the heat too. It’s coming from pipes buried in the concrete under the tiles.”

  Becky turned a radiant face to me. “So what do you think? Let’s forget about the grand cabin and move into here. Nobody will find us. We only knew to look for staff housing because of the brochure.”

  “I say let’s hustle and get the truck unloaded. It’ll be a job, but we can cart everything down here and then ditch the truck far away. Baby, we just might be alright from here on out. All we need to do is keep a low profile and like you say, no one will even know we exist.”

  That’s what we did. Because of the sheer volume of supplies, it took two days to transport everything from the truck to the smaller, more hidden house. Because of the noise factor, by mutual consent Becky and I agreed to forego using the riding lawn mower with a small trailer, opting instead to use a wheelbarrow. The children helped hand-carrylightweight items.

  When we were finished moving, we used boughs cut from pines to sweep forest debris onto the trail. At first, our effort stood out as deliberate obscuration, but when the moist leaves and twigs dried, it took on a more natural appearance.

  We settled into the place. Becky undertook the job of organizing the inside and I explored the mechanical aspects of our new home.

  The water came from a well which was situated uphill and to the left of the house to provide separation from the septic field a hundred feet farther downhill.

  I was right in my assumption about there being an underground storage tank for the heated water. Almost a hundred feet of four-by-eight solar water panels were the main source for the hot water heating. This was backed up by gas heat, with fuel supplied by a huge propane tank that, thanks to the forest-green paint to match the house and the fact it was set off in the woods, was almost invisible.

  The propane tank also supplied fuel for the gas range inside. In fact, all the buildings were the same color, and because the solar electric panels were located on the back, south-facing portion of the roof, even they were hidden from a casual walker using the trail from the main cabin to the river.

  After supper a few evenings later, Becky and I sent Will and Jen to watch a movie on the wall screen in the living room so we could discuss our situation in private. Besides a good assortment of DVDs already present, Becky brought an enormous selection from the main cabin.

  Becky carried two cups of coffee to the table and sat in her chair across from me.

  “I went through our food supplies, and without rationing, we should have enough to last five months.”

  “You took into account things like flour, cornmeal, oil…”

  “I took into account everything. Actually, if we can supplement the protein we have with fish or other game, we can go longer.”

  I considered her words. “Honey, that’s great news. Spring is around the corner and berries and fruit will become available. We should do as the two J’s advised and find books on foraging wild foods.

  Becky nodded agreement, but added her thoughts.

  “I think we should leave roaming until later. I feel safe here and the longer we wait the better the chance the plague will play itself out.”

  “I feel safe here, too. More time away from the societal mess wouldn’t be a bad thing, either. Maybe things will sort out and we can locate a functioning… I don’t know… Find a group or small community that we can join.”

  “Maybe,” she replied without enthusiasm, “but let’s be extremely sure of what we’re doing before we mix with people. What about the water and gas? How long will the gas last for cooking. Do solar panels wear out?”

  “The propane should be good for several months. I’ll be able to pin that down after we’ve been here longer and I see what our usage is.

  “The solar panels may need an occasional cleaning, but they should produce current for years. The storage batteries are the weak link. They have to be replaced every few years. The ones in the shed are only two years old.”

  Becky made an audible sigh of relief. “So our greatest chore for long term is to find ways to keep the children occupied so they don’t go stir-crazy?”

  I had to chuckle. “The truth is, I need to find some way to keep myself occupied. Right now my side is slowing me down, but when it’s well, I’ll have to find things to do.”

  “Learning how to trap and fish will keep you busy. While the children are out of our hair, let me change your dressing. I haven’t checked it since I stitched it.”

  I stood and went to her side of the table and removed my shirt. Becky leaned close and felt the area around the square bandage. It hurt when she pressed my skin.

  “Hey, take it easy.”

  “I barely touched you. Ralph, the skin close to the bandage is red and I can smell your wound. I think it’s infected.”

  “Go easy taking the bandage off. It really hurt when you touched me.”

  The rear bandage wasn’t a problem and she told me the exit wound was healing. The process of removing the tape and gauze from the front almost had me in tears. I tried to bend to look past my paunch, but the pain was too much. Becky wasn’t pleased with what she saw.

  “Shit! It is infected. The hole closed, but there’s a mound like a boil that looks like it wants to explode. I think I need to open it up.”

  “Jeez. You mean you want to lance it. Christ, I can barely stand for you to breathe on it.”

  “We need to clean out the pus. I’m not a nurse, but that’s what I’m always hearing on TV and reading.”

  I reached to my side and brushed a finger across my wound. I felt the lump she’d seen. I moved my finger to my nose and sniffed. The nasty odor made me know I needed to man-up.

  “You’re right. It needs to be cleaned.”

  We moved from the dining room to our bedroom. Becky put a towel on the bed and had me strip my shirt and lie on it, and then went to a dresser.

  “I found a pack of huge needles at the bargain store in the tool section. I think they’re for sewing leather or vinyl. I put the pack in one of these drawers.”

  She rummaged a moment and came back to the bed. When she said big needles, she meant big.

  “This is not going to be good,” I groaned.

  She frowned at me. “For me, either.” She opened the package. There were several sizes of needles, straight ones and curved. She chose the thickest straight one and cleaned the business end with peroxide.

  The do-it-yourself surgery didn’t go well. She’d make a hole with the needle, a little pus would come out, and then the hole would close. She tried mashing and pushing the lump, but no matter how much she hurt me, she couldn’t get a flow. She made more holes with the same result.

  “I need to get a knife and cut it open.”

  I said, “Anything but the needle. I can’t take much more of that.”

  She left the room to go up the hall to the bathroom. When she returned, she was all about getting the job done.

  “This is going to hurt, but when the pressure’s gone your
side won’t be so tender. I found an iodine bottle with a dropper. I took the bulb off the dropper. What I’m going to do is make a slit in the top of the sore and push the plastic dropper into the hole. The hollow tube should let the pus run out. Roll onto your side and be very still. I’ll do it fast.”

  It didn’t hurt at all. She sliced me with a narrow blade she’d forced from one of my disposable razors and pushed the tube in. I felt immediate relief, but Becky shrieked and sprang from the edge of the bed.

  The pressure inside my wound was so high that I saw a vile stream of pus follow her as she fled my side. Becky left the room. I looked at the towel beside my belly and saw a pool of yellow pus with streaks of blood that was still growing.

  I could smell the stink of it. I didn’t know what to do, so I lay there waiting for Becky to return. I could hear her retching. Her face was pale as she walked through the doorway and back to my side.

  “I’m sorry, Ralph, I wasn’t expecting it to come squirting out like a hose. The pus went right in my face, my mouth too.”

  “I wish that hadn’t happened. You got it to come out, though.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to think about it. Roll back where you were, so I can see your side.”

  She took her time finishing the cleaning. Now that the pressure was gone, it didn’t hurt nearly as bad when she pushed to make more pus come out.

  “I can’t get any more to come out. All I can do is clean it and put on new dressing.”

  I could tell she was distressed. “I don’t think it’s unusual for a wound like mine to infect. I think you did the right thing and as long as I continue taking the antibiotic, I should heal sooner or later. Honey, thank you, you have no idea how much better I feel.”

  “You’re welcome, but I’ll feel better when I’m done so I can go brush my teeth about ten times. If I ever have to do something like this again, I know not to have my face right in front of it.”