Apokalypsis | Book 5 | Apokalypsis 5

by Morris, Kate

  “We have pain pills, too, Dad,” she told him. “Roman’s friend brought them. They’re in the safe.”

  “Wait till after. Let’s just wait.”

  She nodded, and they began.

  Avery lifted his thigh to slip towels under it to catch the blood and pus. He tipped to his side, and she did the same under the actual wound and again up higher under his back. She figured it was going to be a messy job. Then Jane handed her the sterile hunting knife. It felt too big for her hand, but the blade looked strong and sure, even if she wasn’t.

  “Here we go,” she said and pushed her braid behind her back. “Hold him back if he struggles, Jane. I don’t want to do more damage.”

  “I will.”

  Her father looked asleep again, but as soon as she cut deeper than a quarter-inch into the stomach wound, he woke up with a loud moan.

  “Sorry,” Avery apologized.

  “Just do it. It’s okay,” he growled.

  She sliced a little faster this time, and deeper. He howled and swore once. Then the painful part really began as she squeezed the flesh to release some of that greenish pus. It oozed in a disgusting way down his side. It seemed like it would never end.

  “Now, go deeper,” he ground out through his gritted teeth. His face was red and very sweaty from exertion and pain. “You gotta get it all out. Go until it’s just blood coming out.”

  Avery wasn’t sure how her father knew this, but he seemed confident in his knowledge. That was enough for her, too, since she knew basically nothing about this. She did as he instructed and got the same result. He hissed and cried out again, this time in a higher pitch. Avery thought she might throw up.

  “Jane, shut the door,” she instructed so that they didn’t frighten the boys.

  Avery squeezed the muscle and flesh of his side and got more pus this time. It was less than before, and blood soon followed.

  “This is going to hurt, sir,” she said. “I need to irrigate it, sterilize it.”

  “Just do it. If I pass out, keep going until you’re done,” he said. Then he encouraged them both a little breathlessly, “You’re doing great.”

  She didn’t know about that part. This felt so barbaric, like they were living in the wrong century with too little knowledge of the more rustic medicine available at the time.

  “Here it goes,” she narrated as she poured a slow trickle of clean water into the wound. He sucked in sharply between his teeth. Then he actually whimpered. Her father wasn’t a wimp; this was just so horrifically painful. It hurt Avery just doing it.

  “That’s it, Jane,” she encouraged. “Mop up the excess. Good.”

  “It already looks a little better.”

  “Now the alcohol,” she said and got an unsure nod from Jane.

  Avery poured slowly, and her father actually yelled a strong curse word before passing out cold and collapsing back onto the pillows.

  “There,” she said more quietly. “I think that got it. Now, let’s put on some medicated, antibiotic salve.”

  Then Avery remembered something her mother told her once and left the room. She returned a moment later with their sugar jar and a spoon.

  “What’s that for?”

  “We’re going to try something. We’ll pack it with sugar and cover it with dressing.”

  “For real?”

  “Yes. My mother told me one time about helping out in a village in Nigeria where one of the doctors packed a native man’s wound with sugar because resources were so slim. She did mission work when she was young before she met my father.”

  “Oh! Wow. She sounds cool.”

  Avery smiled. “Yes, she was.”

  “What about stitches?”

  “He said not to.”

  Jane frowned. “That doesn’t seem right to me.”

  “Maybe we have to leave it uncovered for a day or so to see if it re-infects?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe.”

  They covered his wound and removed the soiled towels and rags.

  “Go fetch him some pain medicine, Jane,” Avery requested to which the girl nodded and fled.

  While she was gone, Avery worked on changing his bed linens, removing the pillowcases first and then the heavy comforter.

  “Here, I got these out of the safe. They were from Stephanie’s parents,” she explained. “Which one?”

  She handed over two full bottles of narcotic style pain killers. Avery read the labels and went with Tramadol, which was what they gave her when she was discharged from the hospital after her accident. She knew they were strong because they knocked her out every time she took them, which was only two times on her own at home. They made her too tired and muddle-headed. Her father could use a bit of that, though.

  “This’ll work,” she said with a nod.

  Together, they were able to get her father to drink a few sips of water to get down two tablets.

  “We need clean bed linens,” she told the girl, who nodded.

  “I just washed some last night. I’ll be right back,” she said and scurried away again.

  With her help, they managed to roll her father enough to get clean sheets under him. He was dead out now.

  “This comforter is too thick. Do you have any cotton blankets, something lightweight?”

  “Sure, I’ll get some from the closet upstairs.”

  Once he was comfortable and asleep, Avery checked his bandaging again. It was no longer bleeding, but she changed the soiled cloths once more and replaced them and the tape with fresh ones.

  “Let’s boil some water for tea,” she suggested, and they left her father’s bedroom, turned off the bedside lamp, and closed the blinds. She also partially closed down his register vents. It was cooler in there now, dark, and quiet, just what he needed to rest.

  Jane filled a kettle and placed it on the stove while Avery unpacked her bag of supplies.

  “My mother used to swear by this tea for fevers and to boost the immune system. The last thing we need is for your father to get sick, too.”

  “Right,” Jane agreed.

  “I also brought a different kind of antibiotic, a quick five-day dosage. We should get him on these tonight,” she said. “If the other antibiotics weren’t working, these might.”

  “Okay, whatever you think,” Jane said and paused. “Thank you so much for coming over. I just feel so overwhelmed.”

  “Isn’t anyone else helping you around here, Jane?”

  “Yes, of course. Roman’s great.”

  “But you have Stephanie, Destiny, and Noah living here, too. Are they pulling their weight?”

  Avery could tell she didn’t want to say anything negative about them.

  “You need to be assertive,” she told her. “You’re young, but this is your property, not theirs. Living here on your father’s property is a privilege, not a right. They need to understand that if you want something done, they need to help out around here.”

  She shrugged nervously.

  “How do you all know each other?” Avery asked since that sort of introduction into each group was not covered yet.

  She sat patiently listening as Jane told her about each person in her group and her own story, as well. By the end, Avery could tell two things: that Jane was a very outcast and lonely person, especially since her grandmother’s death, and that she had feelings for Roman that were stronger than friendship. She also got a heavy vibe that Stephanie was not always a very friendly person to this girl when they were in school.

  “Noah should be back by now,” Jane stated when the tea kettle began whistling.

  Avery stayed her with a hand and rose from the small dining table to remove the kettle from the burner. Then she dropped in peppermint and immune system tea bags and left them to steep on their own.

  “Spencer’s also looking,” Avery reminded her.

  “I know, but it’s been like an hour, maybe longer. I feel like I should go out and look, too.”

  “Give them a little more time. Why don
’t you tell me about your father and mother?”

  That conversation quickly revealed a lot about Jane Livingston. When she was done speaking, Avery felt even worse for the poor girl’s situation. A mother in prison and a father who was not around a lot. She blotted her eyes when speaking of her Nana Peaches again, the woman who’d taken her in and basically raised her the rest of the way in a stable home. Avery couldn’t relate, having grown up surrounded by love and attention, but she could feel a great deal of empathy for Jane.

  “Um…” Jane stalled out.

  “What is it?”

  “My mother showed up the other night.”

  “Really? How? Did they let her out of prison? I know they were doing some of that.”

  “I’m not sure. I think it was more of a prison escape or revolt or something. I made the decision to put her at the farmhouse where we’re keeping the horses.”

  “Not here. That’s a big decision,” Avery stated and was impressed she was able to do it.

  “Maureen can be very controlling. She would be in charge here by the end of the day. I didn’t want the conflict. She always brings chaos and conflict. I told her she has to stay over there until my dad’s better and can make the decision.”

  “That must’ve been hard.”

  “We aren’t close,” Jane said in a decisive manner.

  Noah came through the front door a moment later before Avery could ask any other questions. He was covered in snow and damp from head to toe.

  “Noah!” Jane exclaimed. “Come over by the fire. You’re soaked through.”

  “Did you find her?” Avery asked the more pressing question.

  He shook his head as Avery’s phone buzzed. It was Spencer.

  “I think I’ve found tracks,” Spencer said. “Looks like a woman’s prints. They’re heading your way, Avery. I think she was out walking, though. Looks like she kind of just went walking in a big circle between our two places…”

  The line got fuzzy for a moment but straightened out.

  “I’m heading your way now. Almost there. I’m going to follow this lead.”

  “Meet me at Jane’s. I’ll come with you.”

  “Okay, that’ll work. Maybe Jane could come with you. She knows her end of the property better.”

  “Got it. We’ll get ready.”

  Jane was tending to Noah, helping him remove his coat and hat and gloves. He didn’t seem all there, his eyes vacant and lost just as Tristan had described him. He’d been through a lot, but everyone had, and Avery found herself wishing he’d just buck up and deal with it. It seemed crass, but everyone had the same problems now. This was no time to give in to depression if they were to survive. Only the strong survive used to be a slogan, a cheesy bumper sticker of a slogan to boot, but it was true now. Jane needed help around here, and if Roman was going to be gone a lot, Noah would need to step up to the plate.

  She found Connor and Ephraim in the basement playing air hockey, which was nice to see, and explained the situation. Ephraim assured her that he would come upstairs and keep an eye on the place while she went with Spencer, and it made her heart miss a beat that her little brother felt such an obligation to be the responsible adult of the situation. She kissed his cheek.

  A few minutes later, Spencer stepped onto the front porch, and she and Jane greeted him out there. Jane insisted they take Brutus.

  “Can he track?” Spencer asked as Avery pulled on her second glove.

  “I don’t know,” Jane answered with a shrug. “My dad used to hunt ducks with him.”

  “Alright, works for me. Let’s see if I can pick up that trail again.”

  Within minutes, Spencer had found her friend’s trail again, which was just beyond the rear of the house. It made her wonder how Noah had missed this. There were clear tracks going back and forth from the shed to the house, which she assumed was where they were getting firewood for their fireplace, but other than that, there weren’t any other footprints in the snow, just one set wandering off. It seemed difficult to have missed these.

  “Here, up ahead,” Spencer pointed at a path into the woods. “I think she went this way.”

  Brutus stayed near Spencer, who led the way, and Avery walked next to Jane when she could until the path narrowed too much. She was wearing a pistol on her hip, which felt odd and foreign there. However, Tristan wanted her armed anytime she left the house, even to go out and collect morning eggs from the coup. Those things had only managed to catch one hen the other night, which was fortuitous since their breakfast every day included eggs. They found the rest hiding up in trees.

  “Down here,” he said up ahead of them, going down a ravine where he stooped to pick up something. “Is this hers?”

  Jane gasped, “Yes, that’s her scarf.”

  “Good, we’re on the right path.”

  They walked forward into the deepening forest and waited every now and then for Spencer to look at something or listen for sounds. It was too dangerous to just call out for the girl. Even though they didn’t like the daylight sunshine, those things were known to make the exception.

  When they came to the bottom of the steep ravine, Avery could hear water running, likely in the same stream that ran through her property. It sounded deeper and with a heavy water flow here, though.

  Suddenly, the dog began barking and whining. It sent a shiver from her mid-back to her shoulders and all the way up into her hairline. If a dog was barking, then something probably wasn’t right. Spencer stopped to look around. The dog ran forward and pawed the ground. Maybe it was just a chipmunk burrowed there or a mouse. Dogs weren’t always that smart. However, this one seemed smart, and he was barking toward a short hill where a big grand tree whose branches hung out over everything in a twenty-five feet span stood proudly. There were thickets and bushes around the back of it.

  “Anyone see anything?” Spencer whispered.

  Avery knew it was imperative that they move quietly and spoke even more so in case one of those things was around. She was silently praying their entire journey that Jane’s friend hadn’t run into one of them out here. And if she had, that the girl had a weapon on her when she’d left.

  “No, nothing yet,” Avery whispered back as the dog pawed and growled at the ground.

  “Let’s keep moving,” Spencer said and crested the hill. She and Jane went up the other side of the big tree.

  Then Jane screamed. It was high-pitched and very, very loud. Avery grabbed her and slapped her gloved hand over the girl’s mouth to quiet her.

  “Jane, Jane! What is it?” she encouraged feverishly.

  Jane only pointed past the bushes with the little red berries.

  Spencer ran toward them. He and Avery both looked more closely this time. She understood why the girl had screamed. She had to cut off her own reaction to do the same.

  There behind the tree and partially concealed by thick underbrush was Jane’s best friend lying on the snow-covered ground. Both of her wrists were slit so deeply, Avery could see tendons in the left one. The beautiful, white, pristine snow around her body was saturated with thick red, coagulated blood. It was so macabre, Avery couldn’t wrap her mind around what she was viewing. She’d taken her own life and was still wearing her pajamas and short, tan Ugg boots, the white furry rims around the tops now red from her own blood, as well. Jane broke away from her and wretched whatever food she had in her stomach behind a bush nearby.

  “Jesus,” Spencer swore.

  Avery didn’t like it when people said things like that, but in this instant, she was wishing her mother or father were here to explain this. It was too much to process that a seventeen-year-old girl would do this to herself. Her face grew suddenly cold, and she realized it was because tears were streaming down her cheeks and freezing there.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tristan

  The sounds of gunfire drew his attention, and Tristan took off. He sprinted through the elementary school and out the exit door in under two minutes. They nearly
ran down Alex and Stephanie, who were coming toward them from the truck where they must’ve just deposited things with Abraham.

  “What’s going on?” he demanded as they paused.

  “Not sure. Wasn’t us.”

  “Let’s go!” Tristan ordered and ran.

  It didn’t take long to figure out the gunfire was coming from the direction of the high school because he could tell the source more easily from the outside of the buildings. Two more rounds popped off. They sped through the backdoor Roman and Wren had gone through and paused another moment. Another round was fired, and they sprinted as one toward the direction of the noise.

  “Careful,” he warned as the jogged. “Don’t get yourself caught in crossfire or friendly fire.”

  “Yes, sir,” Abraham answered.

  “Finger off the trigger till you mean it,” he also added for safe measure. Other than the skirmish with the ones who’d taken Wren’s uncle and Elijah, he’d never been in a bad situation with these people, so he had no idea how trigger happy they were. He heard muffled, affirmative responses behind him as they rushed forward.

  They came to a set of double doors marked “Gymnasium,” and Tristan heard more rounds coming from the other side. He skidded to a stop and nodded to the others as he eased the door open quietly. With one peek in, he immediately saw the problem.

  “Crawlers!” he whispered and moved inside. “Abraham, stay here. Watch the door for any to escape.”

  “Yes, sir,” he nodded.

  “Let’s move,” he said to the other two.

  He pushed the door open wider and went in. It wasn’t particularly well-lit, but there were windows around the top of the cement block walls that let in some light. Focusing in on one of the things, he aimed and squeezed off a round, hitting the top of its back. It screamed and went down. Beside him to his left, Alex zeroed in on a target and did the same. It also fell. Stephanie was surprised by one that ran toward them and raised her pistol to shoot and was aided by his own assisting shot. It didn’t get back up, either. On the other side of the gym, he spotted Wren, who also shot one. It was done that fast, and she ran over to join them.

  “Where’s Roman?”