“No, stay with the car,” she told him. “Don’t bring the gun to the door. No reason to scare these people. They’ll think we’re here to rob the place.”
Corbin didn’t complain, but she heard him make a little annoyed sound as he got back in the car. Beth knocked on the front door, positioning herself so she was fully visible from the window. She heard the clank and click of locks being undone, and then the door swung open. A small flashlight beam awoke in the darkness, aimed directly in Beth’s eyes.
“Can I help you?” a timid voice said.
“Pardon me for bothering you at your home,” Beth said. “I’m looking for Dr. Yates. I’m one of his regular patients.”
The woman at the door hesitated a moment before saying, “He’s not here.”
“Oh.” Then where the heck were Shane and Jodi? “Do you know where he is?”
Again, the woman hesitated. “Dr. Yates is my husband. He went to a patient’s house, and he hasn’t returned. That was almost twenty-four hours ago, and I haven’t heard from him since.”
“Do you know why he went?” Beth asked.
“A man’s daughter got burned when he put gasoline on a wood fire in the backyard,” she replied. “Some people still don’t realize that gasoline combusts. He soaked the wood and tossed a lit match on it, and his daughter happened to be standing on the other side. They were trying to cook lunch, I think. Honestly, that’s all I know. My husband went with the father to treat the burns, took a bunch of his medical supplies with him, and he hasn’t been back since.”
“Has anyone else come here this evening looking for your husband?” Beth asked.
“Patients have been coming by the house all day,” the woman said.
“This would have been two men, one of them a sheriff, and they would have had an injured woman with them,” Beth said. “They would have been driving an old Volkswagen van.”
“I’m not sure. I don’t remember seeing a van, but I didn’t look at most of the vehicles. There were a couple of men a while ago. Maybe it was them. Hang on. I’ll write down the address of the place my husband went.”
She shut the door. Beth heard her reengaging the locks, and she stood in the darkness. Glancing toward the LTD, she gave Corbin a thumbs-up. He watched carefully from the passenger seat, still clutching the shotgun between his knees. Almost a full minute passed before the front door opened again. Mrs. Yates thrust her arm outside, a folded index card pinched between thumb and forefinger.
As soon as Beth took the card from her, she said, “Good luck,” and shut the door again. As Beth turned to walk away, she heard all the locks clicking into place again.
“Shane should’ve let me go with him,” Corbin said, as Beth got back in the LTD. “I knew he might get lost without my help.”
“Young man, I might not disagree with you,” Beth said, unfolding the index card.
As she backed down the driveway, she checked the address on the index card. Thankfully, Mrs. Yates had provided clear directions. Though Beth had gotten used to depending on GPS service over the years, she still remembered what it was like before cell phones. She’d grown up in a world of paper maps and scribbled directions, where plugging an address into an app and letting a phone tell you which way to go had been the stuff of science fiction.
“Let’s just hope they’re here,” she said, flapping the index card in the air.
Corbin gave her a frown that suggested he was doubtful. Beth followed the directions, turning down the unusually named Pio Nono Avenue and heading north for a little over a mile before turning left into a sprawling neighborhood of tract homes. A few more turns down nondescript streets brought them to the address—a modest house at the end of Hurley Circle. Beth saw a number of large, lit candles on a table inside the living room.
Corbin tried to follow her to the front door again, so she motioned for him to keep his seat. As she approached the door, it opened, and a haggard-looking man with a wary scowl peeked out at her.
“If you’re looking for Dr. Yates, I’ll tell you what I told the last group,” he said, pointing down the street. “Three houses down. After helping my daughter, he went over there to stitch up a woman who fell down the stairs in the dark. The little red house there.”
And with that, he unceremoniously shut the door in her face. Beth got back in the car with a sigh. The evening was beginning to wear on her, putting her nerves on edge. She felt a vague tightness high in her stomach. The sense of being unable to reach people was something she wasn’t used to, and it was getting to her.
“Ma’am?”
When Corbin spoke, she realized she’d been sitting quietly, fuming, for almost a full minute. She backed out of the driveway and drove to the little red house down the street.
“What are we doing?” Corbin said.
“Looking,” she replied. “Still looking. The last guy said the doctor went here.”
“This is starting to feel like a wild goose chase.” Corbin adjusted his grip on the shotgun.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what it is. Stay here.”
Gripping her stomach, Beth got out of the car again and shuffled to the front door. This house was utterly dark, but she knocked on the front door anyway. No Volkswagen van, no sign of Dr. Yates’s car. She was surprised when someone answered the door. It was a stranger.
“Dr. Yates?” It was all Beth said this time.
“I’m sorry,” the woman replied. “He left here a while ago. He said he had another person to visit, but he didn’t say where he was going. Sorry.”
“He didn’t give any indication if it was in this neighborhood or farther away?”
The woman shook her head. “No, nothing. He just left in a hurry. I have to lie down now.” She turned her head so Beth could see the bandage near the back of her head, then she faded into the darkness of her living room and kicked the door shut with her heel.
Beth stood on the porch for a moment, anxiety tightening in her stomach. As she walked back to the car, she grew light-headed. She caught herself against the hood and carefully climbed behind the steering wheel.
“You okay?” Corbin asked.
“I’m perfectly fine, but it looks like our trail’s gone cold,” she replied.
“So we head back home and get on the radio?”
Beth shook her head. “Not yet. That’s another hour or more of driving. We’ll cruise through the neighborhood a little bit first and look for either the van or Dr. Yates’s car. He drives a nice Mercedes. I’ll know it if I see it. It’ll be out of place in this neighborhood.”
“Are you sure that’s what we should do, ma’am? The radio will be so much easier.”
“Yeah,” Beth said, the word coming out as a long sigh. “Sometimes, Corbin, I really, really miss cell phones.”
He didn’t seem to know how to respond to this. Beth started cruising the dark neighborhood, idly rubbing her stomach. The pain was high, almost like acid reflux. She tried not to let it show, but it was really beginning to bother her. All of her suppressed anxiety from the past week seemed to be catching up with her.
“We don’t have unlimited gas,” Corbin pointed out.
“No, but this thing has a huge tank, I’m sure,” she replied. “It’s at more than half full. We can drive a while before we head home. I just…I have to try to find them, Corbin, okay?”
“Okay, if you insist. We should have brought the radio with us.”
“I realize that now,” she said.
She began methodically searching the neighborhood, turning down each street with the high beams on. She saw numerous faces staring at her from windows. In half an hour, she’d cruised the entire neighborhood, so she crossed the major street into the next housing development.
“He can’t be far,” she said, reasoning aloud. “He runs a small family clinic. His patients can’t be spread that widely.”
“You never know,” Corbin replied. “Depends on their insurance plans. My dad had to see a doctor on the other side of town bec
ause his insurance plan only had a small list of approved doctors.”
Beth muttered, barely hearing him as she scanned the street in front of her. The discomfort in her stomach was becoming a furious little knot, until she wondered if she shouldn’t pull over and wait for it to pass.
Then she turned a corner and saw it. There sat the big gray Mercedes, as if it had been playing a little game of hide-and-seek with her. It was parked at the end of the street next to a small neighborhood park.
“Well, there you go,” she said, parking the LTD. She was so relieved, she almost cried. “I’m pretty sure that’s the doctor’s car, but it’s not parked in front of a house.”
“What does it mean?” Corbin asked.
Beth opened her door, shoving it with her foot. It was heavy and unyielding, like the bulkhead door on an old Navy ship.
“It means we start knocking until we find him,” Beth said. “Stay here with the gun or leave the gun and come with me. Your choice.”
She was so uncomfortable now she was having trouble talking. She shut the door and walked to the nearest house, unsure what Corbin would do. After a moment, he left the shotgun and hurried after her.
I think I might pass out, Beth thought.
Maybe the pain wasn’t in her stomach. The thought occurred to her, but she pushed it aside. She refused to worry about that now.
No one answered at the first house. At the second, someone shouted at her from inside to go away. Finally, at the third door, a kindly looking old man in a sweater vest and slippers opened the door wide and gave them a questioning smile.
“Dr. Yates?” was all Beth managed to say.
When the kindly gentleman replied, “Yes, he’s here,” she nearly fell over. He opened the door and beckoned her inside. Corbin followed. The inside of the house was lit by dozens of candles in every room. The effect made Beth sleepy, but the growing pain in her body kept her wide awake. As the kindly man led Beth down the hallway, she heard the sounds of a small, cranky baby.
“My granddaughter just gave birth this evening,” the man told her, pointing her to the door at the end of the hall. “All is well now. Feel free to go right in.”
“I’m sorry to bother you,” Beth said, endlessly massaging the painful knot high in her belly. “It’ll just take a moment.”
“It’s no bother,” the man replied.
Though the bedroom door was open, Beth peeked around the corner before stepping through. She felt like she was intruding. She found Dr. Yates sitting on a padded stool beside a bed, where a young woman, half-asleep, held a tiny, whimpering baby. Dr. Yates was thin, an African-American gentleman with a neatly trimmed mustache and spectacles perched on the end of his nose. He looked up as Beth entered.
“Oh, Doctor, I can’t believe I found you,” Beth said. “You had me running all over town.”
“I’m just finishing up here,” the doctor said, picking up a large leather satchel from the floor beside him. “Sorry, I’ve just been going from one house to the next helping people. We had a clean delivery, and they’ve got a beautiful baby boy here.”
He snapped the lid shut on the satchel and rose from the stool.
“We should let our new mother sleep.” He leaned over and gently stroked the baby’s head with the back of a finger. “Ma’am, if you need me again, you know where to find me. Just send someone my way.”
“Thanks,” the sleepy mother mumbled. “I’m so glad you came.”
Beth made way for the doctor as he stepped into the hall. The discomfort in her stomach, in her chest, in her whole torso, was severe enough now that she struggled to think clearly.
“Dr. Yates, I’m looking for my daughter,” she said, following him down the hall. “My son-in-law brought her to your house tonight. Have you seen them?”
“Oh, yes, yes,” he replied. “They chased me down from house to house just like you did. I sent them back to the clinic. They should be there by now.”
“The clinic? Are you sure? I was there and didn’t see anyone.”
“Well, of course, I encouraged them to park the van out of sight of the road,” he said, heading to the front door. He paused to shake hands with the homeowner. “I’ve had an endless stream of people needing my help, so I didn’t want someone to see the van and assume I was at the clinic. It should be somewhere behind the building, but I assure you, unless they ignored my advice, they are inside.”
Beth pressed her hands to her forehead, frustrated almost to a breaking point.
“The back door to the clinic should be unlocked,” Dr. Yates said. “I’ll stop by and check on my wife, and then I’ll meet you there.”
“Very good,” Beth managed.
She left the house without saying goodbye to the homeowner. In fact, she forgot to acknowledge him at all and only realized it when she was halfway across the street. Turning back to thank him, she found that the front door was already shut.
What’s wrong with me? We found her. We’re okay. Calm down, Jodi.
Something to worry about later. By the time she got into the LTD, Dr. Yates was already driving away in his Mercedes. She grabbed the steering wheel and tried to concentrate through the haze of pain and discomfort.
“So I guess we found the doctor,” Corbin said.
When Beth tried to respond, she found she was suddenly out of breath. She gasped, but a dizzy spell hit her.
“Ma’am, are you okay?” Corbin asked. “You’re clutching your chest.”
She hadn’t realized she was doing it, and she made herself stop.
“I think maybe you need to see a doctor yourself,” Corbin said. “You don’t look well.”
“It’s just anxiety.”
Beth had dealt with anxiety attacks a few times in the months and years after her husband’s death, but she couldn’t think about it now. She had too many people who needed her. Corbin was staring at her intently. The young man had a fierce and unyielding gaze when something had claimed his attention.
“You’re having chest pains,” he said. “I know what that means.”
“It’s not a heart attack, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said. “It’s anxiety. I know the symptoms all too well. Now, look, I don’t want you telling anyone about this. I can’t burden Jodi with my pain. Swear to me you won’t say a word.”
“I don’t know if I can swear to that, ma’am,” he said. “It doesn’t seem right.”
“Swear to me you won’t say a word,” she said again, matching intense stare with intense stare. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”
Corbin held her gaze for a moment, then finally nodded and looked away. “Okay, if that’s what you want. I won’t say a word.”
Her breathing felt more regular now, and the pain had abated somewhat. She still felt pretty awful, but she didn’t think she would pass out. She started the car, put it in drive, and pulled away from the curb, heading back through the neighborhood to the clinic.
One of these days, you’re going to push yourself too far, she warned herself.
16
When Jodi finally opened her eyes, it felt like her head was splitting in two. The pain was so severe she wanted to shut her eyes again and retreat to the mindless darkness that had held her like a cocoon. She squinted, taking in her surroundings through the screen of her eyelashes. The room was lit by a number of bright LED lanterns on a nearby shelf, but she didn’t recognize the place. Strange wallpaper with a pattern of farm animals, cabinets against the walls painted a soft baby blue, a row of plastic chairs near a door that looked like it belonged in a schoolhouse.
Where the heck am I? she wondered. How did I get here?
Her last memory was of lying in a deep ditch and seeing starlight wheeling about overhead. It took her a minute to remember how she’d gotten there. Motorcycle on its side, sliding out from under her, the asphalt rising up to meet her, the sound of her leather jacket grinding away. As the memory came back to her, she panicked and tried to sit up, but her headache became a spike that we
nt right through her skull, and she felt a sudden sharp pain in her back.
The light from the lanterns hurt her eyes, so she turned away, facing a curtained wall. Only then did she realize she was lying on a doctor’s examination table, crisp paper crinkling beneath her. A thin blanket had been pulled up to her neck, but it slid off now. When she tried to reach for it, her arm seemed restricted. Looking down, she saw that it was in a sling.
“What happened to me?” she wondered aloud.
The door opened then, and a man she didn’t recognize walked in. A thin African-American gentleman with a neat mustache, wearing medical scrubs and carrying a leather satchel. He set the satchel on a nearby countertop and approached her.
“Well, good morning,” he said. “It’s nice to see you awake and alert. To answer your question, you took a tumble off a motorcycle and got a pretty nice knock on the head in the process. That’s what happened to you.”
He shined a small light in her eyes, which stung like hell and made her eyes water. Then he took her blood pressure. She heard the rhythmic hissing of air as he squeezed the bulb and felt the increasing pressure of the cuff against her right bicep. It made her gunshot wounds throb like crazy.
“You are running out of arms to injure,” the doctor said. “Fortunately, your head trauma doesn’t seem to be as severe as I initially feared. All things considered, you are very, very lucky, though you might be quite sore for a while. I’d take a few days to recover before you start lifting weights again.”
“Is my left arm broken?” she asked. She ignored his mild attempt at a bad joke.
“Yes, I’m afraid so,” he said. He stooped and picked up the blanket, unfolding it and draping it over her. “It’s not a bad break, but you won’t be doing much with that arm for the next six to eight weeks.”
“Well, that’s sucks,” she said. “I can barely use the other one as it is.”
Surviving The End (Book 2): Fallen World Page 14