Considerable Destruction Series (Book 1): Evasion (

by Hernandez, Erica

  “Holy shit! What happened?” Rob walks into our crisis.

  “They’ll be fine,” Katie assures him. “I’m just sewing Simon up, Alex is in excellent shape. I’ve sterilized the wounds, put local anesthetic on them. They’ll be fine.”

  “I better go out and tell Jose. So, you say Simon’s okay, you’re sure?”

  “He’s fine.” Katie puts both her hands out, palms down, in a stabilizing motion. “He’s only getting 4 stitches. That’s nothing compared to Alex. He got 8!”

  “Who are you ladies?” Rob looks at the girls by the door. I hardly noticed two strange girls in the house.

  “I’m Morgan. This is Faith. Your family rescued us,” Morgan says, remaining stiffly in place.

  “Welcome. I assume you are ready to work?” I recover my senses. “I think we’re going to have to postpone canning and figure out what to cook for dinner. This is quite a crowd. We’re going to be camping on the floors. Please come in!”

  We work together to make dinner. Morgan and Faith are quiet, shy perhaps. Several times I glance at Morgan, chopping vegetables, getting out plates, pitching in to get dinner for the mob. Faith, on the other hand, asks what to do, then gets distracted, getting almost nothing done. She looks out the window, plays with her hair, and watches Morgan. I wonder if she’ll be more useful as she gets more comfortable. The guys are outside developing cold-frames so we can plant vegetables to overwinter. Eight of us crowd around the dining room table, while the rest fill up the living room, plates on laps.

  As Simon begins eating, he moans, “Jesus!” He switches the fork to his left hand.

  “You got four stitches in that arm, so be careful with it. Would you like some pain medicine?” Katie asks.

  “Maybe,” Simon agrees. “Eliana, do you have any CBD oil?”

  “Yeah.” I head for the kitchen, opening the supplement cupboard. “Here, Katie, let me show you where it is.” I show her the cupboard, getting a dose for Simon.

  After dinner, Jose and Rob climb into the attic, bringing down all the camp mats and sleeping bags so everyone will be warm and comfortable. Between beds, mats, and couches, we’ll have everyone covered. I sit for a while, watching Alex’s unconscious form, aching with a need to help him heal, but not knowing what to do beyond what’s been done.

  “Alex, wake up! We need you her. Open your eyes, babe, please!” I caress his arm as tears well up in my eyes, beginning to spill over. I realize suddenly that I can do Reiki. I begin centering myself, doing the hand motions, closing my eyes to connect with my spirit guides. I spend half an hour ministering to him, then return to just watching him. I caress his cheek, willing him to wake up. I get up, walk to the bathroom, and shut the door for privacy, letting the tears intensify. Rasheen, God, you guys help Alex stay here with us. Help him and Jonathan heal, please. I sit on the toilet as a chair, quietly crying, elbows on my knees, head in my hands, muscles rigid with grief. I return to the living room in a short while, my chest relaxed from the deluge of tears.

  “Mom, I could sleep with you so someone else can stay in my bed,” Gracie offers, kindly. She knows her papa and I aren’t ready to jump back into bed together.

  “I can sleep with my mom,” Dixie offers.

  “We can take the bed upstairs,” Sam offers.

  “I could crash on the mattress in Eli’s room,” Simon suggests and I tick off people in my mind.

  “I’d be willing to sleep on a mat near Jonathan’s door tonight so I can care for him. I’ll start a care chart so anyone looking in on him will know his current status,” Katie volunteers. “I’ll put a bag of masks, booties, and scrubs on the chair by the back door. Anyone who visits him should wear them.”

  “Thanks so much! You can have one of the mats that Jose pulled out of the attic. There are also mattresses under all the beds so more can sleep in each room.” I’m grateful we bought those mattresses. “Are the rest of you okay on couches or camp mats on the floor?”

  “No problem at all,” Rob agrees as others nod.

  Ten

  Eliana

  Recovery

  Friday morning dawns Sunny and brisk. I marvel at another sunny day, wondering when the fall rains will come. Sheba is sitting outside on the rise of the backyard, watching me at the kitchen window. It is the one, small, grassy area in the yard, not dedicated to food. She wants in, so she sits where she can see me at the kitchen window, waiting for me to understand her message.

  “Eli, would you let Sheba in?” I ask. “Katie, how’s Jonathan?”

  “I checked on him during the night, making sure he was hydrated,” Katie assures me. “His temperature is down a little but I don’t know if he’s better or if it’s just morning.”

  “Yeah. We’ll keep plugging away at this until he gets better.” I pull the Lysine out of the cupboard to crush with jam. “We can give him more lysine, then the homeopath, and keep rubbing him with the salve. It’s the best we can do. What about Alex and Simon?”

  “Simon is fine,” Katie begins.

  “I can speak for myself!” Simon says from down the hall. “Could I have some more CBD oil. Damn!”

  “It’s right here, Simon.” I grab it, handing it to him as he comes in. “1-2 dropper’s full.”

  “His arm is going to give him some trouble while it heals but he’s fine,” Katie continues, rubbing Simon’s other arm. “Alex is up in the air still. Head injuries are hard to predict. He’s unresponsive right now so we have to wait and see.” I grab the comfrey cannabis salve.

  “We should put this on all of them. Have you changed bandages yet?”

  “Let’s eat first, then do that together.” Katie is calm, confident regarding patient care.

  I try to put my boys out of my mind, staying focused on breakfast, heading to the fridge to see what our choices are. When I used to drive the kids to school, we processed our ‘gratefuls’ on the way. When Rhasheen died, I met with a psychic who swore to me I would not have to grieve another child’s death. I pray she was right, unable and unwilling to imagine a life without my children. I’m grateful for the chickens and their eggs, pulling them out of the fridge to see if there are enough. I’m grateful we put Jerusalem artichokes in the front yard and asparagus in back, but most of all I’m grateful for my children, all adults now. My mind strays to images of Alex’s bandage when he first was placed silently on the couch. It’s not like him to be silent. I focus on the fridge, pulling out lunch stuff. I miss his sounds, even his raunchy mouth. I take my lunch collection over to the cutting board to begin preparations.

  “Katie, would you go pick some kale to put in the eggs? I think I’ll make a frittata.”

  “Sure.” Katie heads out back.

  Jose and Rob are awake, having coffee. For the first time in years I feel thankful for my parents’ pack-rat mentality, leaving us lots of stored coffee. “We’re going to run out of food fast with all these people,” I tell them, as more of the gang trickles into the kitchen for coffee, tea, and breakfast.

  “Faith and I can make pancakes,” Morgan offers. “Why don’t you sit and relax?”

  “I’m not making pancakes for people I don’t even know!” Faith’s sarcasm leaks out.

  I stare at her. “If you don’t want to help with the pancakes, why don’t you go weed the garden.”

  Morgan looks away, clearly embarrassed. “That’s fine. I can do it.”

  Faith stomps away. “Oh. My. God!”

  “I’m sorry about Faith.” Morgan looks up through her lashes. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

  I rub her shoulder. “Don’t worry. She’ll either figure it out or she won’t.” I go back to my frittata. “That would be great if you’d make pancakes. I’m making a frittata, but it might not be enough.” I go pull my recipe box out of the cupboard. “Let me show you my recipe box because most of what we have here is gluten free.” I wonder how my gut will react if the gluten free products runs out. I wonder if Faith will really work outside.

  “
Good morning.” Sam breezes into the kitchen. “We also need to make sure we have a cleaning detail, wiping door handles, door frames, surfaces, and floors with essential oils to kill the virus and bacteria.”

  “I’ve got melaleuca, citrus, and lavender. Maybe we can combine them for a super disinfectant blend!” I suggest, pulling them out of the cupboard. “You could mix it with alcohol or a lemon water and vinegar mixture. I turn towards the guys. “Jose, Rob, what project are you working on outside?” I ask, grabbing the tea pot.

  “We’re still working on moving fence sections to the front. We’re most of the way but need to make gates across the driveways,” Rob explains, then grabs a mug of coffee, sucking it down.

  “I want to check the pears and apples in front when I get this in the oven.” I head to check on Alex, wishing there was more I could do. My chest hitches watching him lay in silence, unmoving on the couch. I rub comfrey over his forehead, into his hairline, trying to get under the edges of the bandage. I send prayers for both men, asking for all the available angels to watch over them, helping them heal.

  Then I head back into the kitchen to finish mixing up the frittata.

  “Why don’t we check the house next door from the backyard?” Rob suggests as I return. “We’ve moved some of the fence and won’t have to deal with the unknowns of the street.

  “¡Vamos!” Jose gets up. I admire his vigor, his tight lat muscles pressing against his shirt while he throws a coat on.

  “I’ll be along as soon as this is in the oven,” I explain. “Morgan, as more get up, could you suggest they start bringing in canning jars from the garage?” I ask, chopping the last ingredients, pouring it into the skillet. I set it on the wood stove. “Would you tend to this?”

  “Sure!” Morgan chirps.

  “We’ll show you what we’ve done!” Rob says, as I shut the door. He leads us to our neighbor’s house. I scope out the back yard, enjoying the expanse of land with no fence, flowers next door, but no food. “Don’t bother knocking. We checked and they weren’t there.” We walk through the dining room into the living room. It’s deathly quiet in the stuffy house.

  “We used the fence sections in the front yard, but we should check the other side.” Jose heads out the back. I follow, checking the gate, while they check the fence line.

  “It looks good,” Rob adds. “Secure. How’re the gates?”

  “They look new, but they’d be easy to open from the outside. I don’t like that.” I’ve always loved how Jose made our gates lock with bolts. It helped keep our brilliant dog in, now it’ll help keep the violence out.

  “Let’s check the fridge for milk, eggs, and other staples.”

  “Okay, but quick, I’m hungry,” Rob admits, “and you still want to check the fruit trees out front?”

  “Yeah.” I check the fridge, finding it fairly full. I grab the perishables, loading them into a couple grocery bags, doing the same with the freezer. I open the cupboards, finding a variety of canned good, crackers, cereals, flour, and sugar. I pack it up since there are three of us to carry it back. We step out the front door, laden with bags, crossing to our yard.

  Just as we’re checking the pears, picking up the last few from the ground, I hear a commotion. Peaking over the fence, I see a frantic neighbor brandishing a knife. My chest constricts with fear. He comes tearing down the street towards us. “They’re coming!” He yells. “The militia are coming!” I pause for a split second, vigilance enveloping me, thinking, should I help him or avoid him? My professional instincts kick in as I head towards our driveway, watching as he lowers his knife.

  “Come hide behind this car!” I hiss at him, motioning to the guys to be quiet. The man is nearly at our yard, right near the cars in the driveway. “Come on, but be quiet. They’ll never know we’re here.” I’m whispering now. “Where did you see them?” Jose and Rob play along. “Keep your knife down, but ready.” I’m using my calming voice now, on autopilot, but a restless, anxiety is blooming in my chest.

  “They’ve surrounded the house!” His whisper is strong, insistent, as he crouches behind our car, his balding head uncovered, a tattoo of a naked woman blooming out of his shirt sleeve and down his arm. He should be cold, but he’s unaware of the temperature. There’s no one else outside. I figure he’s psychotic and I’ve dealt with them before. “They’re coming for us!”

  “Just be quiet,” I urge him, “they won’t know we’re here. Shhhh!” I duck low, to model for him, while Rob and Jose follow along. I speak quietly, slowly, and calmly. I’m taking deep, slow breaths to keep myself calm. “What’s your name again?”

  “Al.”

  “I’m Eliana. Look, they’re turning away. They’re heading down the street. Just wait a little more and you can get back into your house safely.”

  “They’re looking back at me!” he hisses.

  “No, Al, they can’t see you behind the car,” I remind him. “They’re just checking out the street behind them.” I continue keeping my voice calm, looking through the car window, calming him.

  “Are you sure?” He sounds almost pitiful now.

  “I’m sure.” I point up the street, “look, they’re getting further away.”

  “Will you tell me when they’re gone?” he asks. “I’m liable to get killed if I go after them.”

  “I will.” I assure him. “Look they’re turning the corner. Have you eaten recently?” I know that food is calming. Food and sleep. Simple things. “We’ll walk you back in the house. Come on.” He leads us across the street.

  “My wife was trying to poison me. It’s been a long day. Then, my wife and kids died. The doctors at the hospital poisoned them. I had to get out of there or they would have killed me too.” We head into his house, slightly up the street.

  “Okay. You need food and sleep,” I tell him, heading for the kitchen. I open the fridge, finding leftover chicken with potatoes and carrots. I get him a plate of food, which he grabs, never thinking it’s probably the same food his wife cooked. He stands at the counter, eating it with a dirty fork. Jose and Rob flank me, saying nothing. The food is gone in minutes. “Now do either you or your wife have sleeping pills?” I ask. “You will feel so much better after a good nap.”

  “I dunno,” he says, confused. “How do I know they’re not going to come back?” We walk toward the bathroom.

  “Lock your doors,” I tell him. While I talk, I search through the medicine cabinet finding some Klonipin. That might calm his paranoia.

  “Here. Take two of these. I have really good hearing. They were talking about getting to the hospital to guard the outside. They’re on a mission and won’t be back.” I watch him put the pills in his mouth and head for his bedroom.

  We leave the house.

  “Wow, you really know how to calm the crazies. How long do you think that pill will help?” Rob says, sounds concerned.

  “No idea. It might work for 7-10 hours and it might not work at all. Given that it’s in their cabinet and he was responsive to me, it might subdue him somewhat.” We don’t say much else as we head home. We pick up the bags we left in the front yard to take in the house.

  “Oh, good you’re back! It’s time to eat.” Morgan calls from the kitchen.

  We carry the bags of groceries from next door with our pears on top, setting them on the butcher block to put away after breakfast.

  Gracie says, hugging me, “God Mom, I was really upset when I got up, discovering you’d gone out.”

  “I’m sorry sweetheart.” I snuggle her in tight, understanding her concern. I hug Eli, who is nearby with my other arm.

  “I’m certainly ready to eat.” The guys chorus their agreement.

  “Go eat. I’ll put these away. Did you bring them from next door?” Morgan looks in the bags on the butcher block.

  “Yeah. I emptied the fridge and freezer, packing up some of what was in the cupboards but there’s more. We should probably do the same to the rest of the neighbors….”

  “Good ide
a.” While we’re getting breakfast and finding places to sit, Gracie lets me know what happened while I was gone.

  “We got the canning jars in the dishwasher and the water bath canner on the stove.”

  “I washed the pressure cooker in case we need it.” Morgan interjects from the kitchen. Faith has returned from the garden and I wonder what her contribution is.

  “Faith, how did the weeding go?”

  “Um,” she puts one hand on her hip, cocks it and says, sarcastically, “what do you expect?”

  “I would expect you would have cleared a section of weeds,” I retort. “Did you?”

  She sighs audibly, “I cleared a little.” She evades me, looking off to the side, “God! Is breakfast ready?”

  “I’m sure you’re hurting, losing your parents,” I express. “I’d be happy to supply you with some paper to write about your feelings, or draw them. I’m here if you want to talk about it, but I won’t tolerate your anger projected on me.” She looks sour, but doesn’t respond.

  Dixie jumps in. “I turned the apple sauce back on to cook down to apple butter. Gracie says it’s so much yummier that way.” She bounces, excitedly.

  Eight years ago, we paid for a major pruning of the neighbor’s oak tree, periodically cutting more to make sure we have great sun exposure in our backyard. That sun now shines in the kitchen window, spotlighting our dining room table. We have nearly a quarter acre lot, dedicated mostly to food production. We never got rid of the swing set, which is just beyond the kitchen window. We still have our trampoline, which was moved to the north end of the yard so the prime sun is available for gardening. The front yard has sun chokes, sunflowers (often planted by squirrels), berries, and fruit trees. The backyard has fruit trees, berries, and vegetables. Jose is an educated agronomist so he has designed our yard for maximum benefit. A few years ago, when we bought the rental houses, we added more fruit trees there.