The second had provided some electricity—not enough to power the hot water heater that Chris had originally envisioned, but enough to allow them to extend the day somewhat with lights at night. It had helped immeasurably during the long winter months when the days were short on daylight but still long on tasks. When Carl had returned home from a visit to the Perdue farm, he had told John about it, which had prompted a visit to the Perdue’s and then a trip to Dorian’s Junkyard for parts.
Carl slipped off the horse and tethered it to the picket fence surrounding the small house. Then he reached up and helped Liza down. Not that she needed the help, but Carl had been taught well by his stepfather.
Normally John would be out by now, rummaging about in his project piles. The man rose with the sun, which was now lighting up the sky, a fiery ball in the east, and would putter about for hours outside. Today, though, he was in the house, vomiting and shivering violently. For a man so seldom sick, it was concerning for all of them to see him in such a state. It was a small wonder that Abby had sent her son to fetch Liza.
As they entered the house, the smell of sickness hit them like a cloud. Liza winced; this was definitely one of the areas of her new role that she wished she didn’t have to endure. She had always had a sensitive nose and today was no exception. After leaving the cool, clean wood smoke-tinged air of the outside, the smell was an affront to her nasal passages.
Carl’s mother Abby leaned out of the hall bathroom, peering through the gloom of the hallway, and called out, “Thank goodness you’re here, Liza. He just keeps throwing up...and other things...I hope you can help.”
Carl watched as Liza bustled down the hallway, doctor bag in hand, and on into the bathroom with Abby. Tabitha had woken to the sound of Carl and Liza arriving and stood in her bedroom doorway, rubbing sleepily at her eyes.
Carl smiled at his little sister, “Hey Tabby, mornin’ kitty-cat.”
Tabitha smiled at her brother, “Morning Carl.” She looked confused then, “What’s Liza doing here?”
“Just checking up on Dad, he’s feeling kind of sick.” He reached down and scooped her up, “Want some breakfast?”
He turned and headed toward the kitchen. He could hear Liza asking questions about John’s fishing trip and whether he had eaten any fish there.
“Daddy’s sick?” Tabitha asked, “Oh, poor Daddy!” She paused for a moment, “Carl?”
“Yeah, kiddo?”
“Is Liza your girlfriend? Joseph says you and Liza kiss each other when Grampa Fenton isn’t looking.”
Carl grinned, “Yeah, she’s my girlfriend. But don’t tell Grampa Fenton, okay?”
Tabitha grinned back, “It’s a secret?” She was very into secrets recently and had finally figured out that secrets were something you didn’t blab to everyone, otherwise they wouldn’t be secrets.
“Yeah, sort of. So, let’s cook up some eggs for everyone, okay kitty-cat?”
Tabitha giggled, “For Liza too, okay?” Carl nodded, and then the little girl asked, “Is Liza the town doctor now?”
“Yup, she sure is.” Carl felt a curious thrill of pride. In the world that was, one that Carl barely remembered, he and Liza were merely children. But in the world of now, the one they all seemed rather stuck in, Liza was a doctor, and he was, well, what was he? Carl had yet to figure that out.
As Carl and Tabitha prepared breakfast, and Liza diagnosed John’s illness as probably due to some undercooked fish, Carl thought about the future and what his place was in it. In the world that was, his thoughts would have been surprising and unusual for his age. But in the world of now, it seemed he was right on target. He had an attractive, brilliant girlfriend, two loving parents, and a sweet little sister.
But for the first time it struck Carl that he should be thinking about what he wanted to do. Did he want to putter with the bicycle hybrid that he and Wes and Jim Dorian had been working on? Did he want to become a farmer like Fenton Perdue and Chris? Was his future in hunting and fighting like Cousin Wes?
Later, as most of the family settled in for a hearty breakfast of eggs and greens from the cold frames, Carl looked over at Liza, her blond hair a rumpled mess from her hurried departure this morning, and saw his future. He might be just a few months shy of sixteen, but he knew what he wanted.
He wanted her.
Another Orphan
“Seeing Serena, and holding Becka for the first time, it brought back all of those memories. I looked at Becka, took in that straight, dark hair and those pale-as-ice blue eyes, and it just shook me. Here was Jacob’s half-sister, both of them, fathered by that monster. Life had emerged from such evil and pain and death. Others would have taken her, wanted to take her, but I told them ‘no’. I told them Serena wanted me to take Becka, had begged me to, and that I could handle it. It was the least I could do for her. If only I had tried harder, if only I could have convinced her and Brad to come with us. In the end? Becka was family, she...fit. And I can’t imagine life without her. – Jess’s Journal
Anthony Ridley, the town doctor, was waiting by the closed door. He shook his head slightly at Jess as she approached the room where they were holding Serena.
“She’s in and out of consciousness,” he told her, “If I had been able to treat her sooner...but she’s got blood poisoning, a high fever, and we don’t have any antibiotics. I take it you know her?”
Jess nodded, “I met her on the way back here. We were on the outskirts of Clinton, her group was moving toward Clinton and we were leaving. From what I could see, there wasn’t anything left for them to go back to. A lot of troop movements back and forth—different factions, and Clinton had practically been burned to the ground.” Todd had rejoined her and was listening intently. “I asked her to come with us, but she had a man with her, a boy and a girl...” Her voice trailed off and both men looked grim.
“She was definitely on her own,” Todd said, “One of the militia patrols found her on the edge of town, unconscious, in the trees. If it hadn’t been for the baby crying, we would have never known she was there. But I know this; there wasn’t anyone else with her.”
“Can I see her now?”
The doctor nodded. Sarah offered to take the baby, who was sleeping peacefully in Jess’s arms and Jess shook her head. If Serena was awake, she would want to see Becka. The room was dark, except for a small light in the corner, and it held a certain unexplainable smell. Serena was a tiny mound in the bed, barely breathing, her arm bandaged and hair matted with filth. Her skin was covered with a sheen of sweat and it looked mottled, red and white blotched, except for one eye which was swollen, and the eye socket looked fractured. She was painfully thin and Jess was sure this had affected her ability to produce any milk.
The baby, Becka, was deeply asleep in Jess’s arms, her tiny belly swollen and full of milk. Serena’s eyes fluttered when Jess said her name, but she didn’t stir. Not once.
Hours passed, people came and went, and Jess sat in a small chair by Serena’s cot. Waiting for Serena to wake up, worrying about the others and wondering if she should go ahead and send for David and the kids. In the end, a diaper change with Becka awake and fretful decided the matter. The baby kicked at Jess irritably, reaching for her mother, over and over. Serena finally roused, her eyes dull and confused. She turned her head and saw Jess.
“Jess?” she whispered, “They found you.”
Jess smiled at the woman and took her cold hand in her warm ones. How could Serena be sweating and cold at the same time? Anthony Ridley had been in twice since Jess sat down to check on Serena. He had explained again, quietly, that there was nothing more that he could do for her. His knowledge was limited, after all. He was actually just a medical student and had been away in medical school before the Collapse. He had explained that the mottled skin, the difficulty breathing, all of these things pointed toward a steady decline and eventual death. The end was coming soon.
In some ways, it was harder to deal with. Here was a living, breathing human bei
ng. There would be no sudden death, only a slow journey into oblivion. Jess had seen plenty of violent, sudden death. This was new and uncharted territory.
She waited for Serena to say more, but she had slipped away into unconsciousness. Jess sat there, watching Serena and Becka. Becka had cuddled against her mother and fallen asleep again, her tiny body curled against her mother, reassured by her presence. Jess wondered for the hundredth time what had happened to Serena, Brad, and the two children. Her eyes became heavy and, just as she was about to slip into a doze, Serena spoke. Jess’s eyes flew open. Serena was awake and looked...lucid.
“You were right, Jess, we never should have gone to Clinton.” She whispered it, her voice weak and cracked. Jess leaned in close so that she wouldn’t miss any words—words were precious now, numbered and limited. Serena continued, “They’re all gone. Brad, Annie, and Max. All of them. I just...ran. I didn’t know what else to do. I...took Becka...and I...ran.” Her words came in short spurts; she sounded winded and exhausted.
Jess tried to shush her, to tell her they had time to talk later, but somehow Serena sensed how little time they had left.
She touched her sleeping baby’s face gently, “Dark hair, and those ice-blue eyes, Jess. She’s Jacob’s sister.” Serena turned and smiled at Jess.
“You were right, about everything. It was okay at first, a struggle, and Brad loved her even though she wasn’t his.” She stopped, and Jess thought she had fallen back asleep.
“Please love her, Jess. Be her mother.”
The last thing Jess needed was another baby to care for. They were struggling to survive as it was, and she closed her eyes so she couldn’t see Serena’s face begging her. She didn’t want this baby. Jacob, with his dark hair, sometimes brought back nightmarish flashes of those dark months inside of Tent Five. But he was hers, and had her deep blue eyes.
Becka was what Cooper surely looked like as a baby. She was beautiful, no question, but it would be like having a reminder of that monster day in and day out in her own home. How could Serena ask this of her? She opened her eyes and saw Serena’s gaze had not wavered.
“You’ll be better soon.”
“Don’t lie to me, Jess. I’m dying and I know it. Please take Becka. Take her now and do this for me, please. I know I’ve no right to ask this, but I need your promise. I need to know that,” again Serena paused and gathered the strength to continue to speak, “she will be with family who loves her.”
Jess felt a huge surge of panic, “Serena, I don’t know if I can love her like that. She looks so much like him. I...” She felt such a horrible dread in denying this dying woman her request, but the fear it evoked was overwhelming.
Serena smiled weakly, “Do you remember what you said to me when we met, Jess? You said that Becka was a part of me and that I would find the love inside me when she was born. You were right; she’s my child. She’s all things good, despite her beginnings.” She took a deep breath, “So Jess, I’m asking you to love my child as your own. Please. You...no one else. Let me die knowing she is loved, because you have that in you, like no one else I know.”
And after a long, painful moment Jess had said yes, the tears welling in her eyes. There had been no more words between them. Serena’s plea had taken every last bit of life and strength that she had in her. Moments later, the woman fell into a restless sleep, her breathing hitching and rattling in her throat. Dr. Ridley assured her there was nothing more to be done and Jess asked Todd for a ride back home.
They bundled the baby up in a swath of blankets. The night was full of stars and frigid. Jess covered Becka’s face lightly, trying to keep the baby as warm as possible. The horse’s hooves rang out on the cement, echoing off of deserted buildings and past the lowing cattle. They rode back to Jess’s little house in silence.
As they turned off of 163rd Street, Todd spoke, “She asked you to take the baby, didn’t she?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you going to be okay?” he asked, kindly.
“Sometimes I wonder if any of us will ever be okay again,” Jess said softly.
“Jess, if anyone can make it, you will. You are stronger than you realize. That woman made the right choice.” Todd’s kind words warmed her in the bitter cold of the night.
Jess didn’t trust herself to answer. The day had been overwhelming; the near future seemed just as daunting. She hugged the squirming baby close and then handed Becka to Todd to hold while she slid off of the horse.
“I’ll make sure someone lets you know when she wakes up again,” Todd said. But Jess knew that Serena probably wouldn’t last the night. All of her dwindling energy had been put into making sure Becka was here, with Jess and Jacob.
“Come in for a cup of coffee?” she found herself asking, her voice cracking with the effort.
“No, I’m headed home.” Todd reached down and touched her cold cheek with his gloved hand, “Get some food and rest, Jess.”
In the months that followed, he visited often, bringing extra meat and provisions for Jess and her little family. So did others. The baby thrived and Jess’s small family did as well. Before long, they couldn’t imagine their world without Becka in it.
What Are They Good For?
The soul is healed by being with children.” – Fyodor Dostoevsky
Camelia tried to ignore the growing agony; this was not the time. The lights flickered for the third time since she had begun surgery on a badly wounded Amerika Reborn soldier. He was young, maybe nineteen at most, and had tried to make a name for himself by rushing a small settlement a few miles to the east. Like the Amerika Reborn group, their target had chosen an old campground and was just a little more successful at farming than the AR. Small surprise there.
The only thing these idiots know how to do is shoot guns and run their mouths about “coloreds,” Camelia thought to herself.
The raid had been a failure. Two men dead, this one on her table badly hurt, and no food to show for it. As much as she hated him, Camelia knew that if Sulwyn hadn’t held Cooper back from the raid, it would have probably been successful. Alenoush had heard that the other settlement, in addition to the crime of sheltering a black “colored” family, had also had a small herd of goats. Meat was in short supply these days, and Camelia’s mouth watered at the thought of it.
“I need those lights to stay on,” she snapped. If she could just get the artery sutured closed he would have a chance. If he hadn’t lost too much blood, that is. The lights flickered a fourth time and her belly rippled, agonizing pain shooting into her buttocks, up her back and down her legs. She didn’t have much more time before...she bent over in agony, her sight temporarily blurring.
“What’s wrong with you?” Alenoush hissed in panic. Blood still terrified her and despite a year of training she couldn’t even handle a simple surgery without turning green at the gills.
Camelia would have laughed if it weren’t for the agony she felt. Sulwyn sure knew how to pick them. Her belly twisted again and her sight blurred. It had been a hard pregnancy. She’d been sick for more than five months, barely able to keep food down, and then when it had finally subsided she had dealt with more difficulties.
She glared at the fool girl who had been sent to her to learn doctoring. Sulwyn had turned her over to Camelia only because Alenoush was completely hopeless at warfare, guns, or much of anything else. Months before, while handling a gun in weapons training, she had accidentally shot and killed her training partner. Sulwyn had been disgusted with her, but stuck her with Camelia as a last resort. Like the rest, she had taken on a white name. At eighteen, Alenoush Swiftblade wasn’t very swift with any kind of blade and looked as if she were close to vomiting.
Camelia snapped at the girl, “I’m in labor, you fool. Now hold this clamp and don’t move.”
When her condition had become apparent, Sulwyn had summoned her, questioned her at length. And although she was tempted to tell him who the father was, she was far more frightened of what would happen to h
er if she did. Cooper had already firmly entrenched himself into the Amerika Reborn’s leadership. He would find a way to hurt her, or the baby, who hadn’t had a choice in any of this. Add to that severe leg swelling, back pain, and spiking blood pressure, Camelia would count herself lucky if she managed to keep this baby.
Sulwyn had not been pleased and he had looked positively enraged when she blithely replied, “Immaculate conception.” If the Amerika Reborn group hadn’t need her doctoring skills so badly he probably would have had her shot where she stood. As it was he had knocked her to the ground with a sharp crack of his open palm on the side of her head.
She gathered her strength as another massive contraction hit, breathed through it, and then focused on the man on the table. The lights flickered on and off twice more before she was finished. It looked as if the generator was going out, or that the AR had managed to steal a batch of bad gas on their last raid. Either was possible, and by the time she finished with the AR soldier on the table she was in too much pain to care.
Hours later, Alenoush washed and swaddled the tiny red-faced baby while Camelia cleaned herself up. The child was quiet; he had barely cried when he was born and was staring about in wide-eyed wonder at the new world he found himself in. This quiet demeanor would serve him well and allow him to survive the years to come.
Alenoush, known once upon a time as Trudy Denkins, smiled at the baby and cooed at him. She wasn’t a complicated girl, rather simple-minded really, which made Sulwyn’s choice to establish her as the next doctor so laughable in Camelia’s eyes. She wasn’t even as rabidly racist as most of them, and was delighted with the baby.
A Brave New World: War's End, #2 Page 9