The Geostorm Series (Book 4): Geostorm [The Flood]

by Akart, Bobby

  If he could just find them in time.

  “This guy’s gonna bleed out!” shouted the lead surgeon.

  “I know. I know.”

  The young man was deliberate, unfazed by the frenetic circumstances. “More suction, dammit!”

  The nurses responded immediately. All eyes were on Squire’s open body cavity, except for the anesthetist.

  “Doctors, it’s been six minutes.”

  “Keep trying!” the lead surgeon exclaimed, overruling the anesthetist’s subtle suggestion that it was time to declare Squire dead.

  The two skilled, albeit inexperienced, hands tried to work their magic and bring a dead man back to life. It was a race against the clock, and the clock was winning.

  Dr. Ware glanced at his assistant. “Doctor, we’re at ten minutes downtime. We’ve administered ten milligrams of epi. No changes.”

  The lead surgeon ignored him. “Infuse twenty-five millis sodium bicarbonate through the peripheral line.”

  The nurses complied, and a few ventricular rhythms appeared on the monitor.

  Chapman noticed the change, and he forcefully grabbed Levi’s arm to make him look. “There was a rhythm. I saw it!”

  “I did, too,” added Isabella with a hopeful tone.

  But then it stopped again.

  “Twelve minutes!” declared Dr. Ware. “At this point, the patient’s heart tissue is dying.”

  “Dammit! Give him atropine sulfate.” This last-ditch effort of medications was used in case there was an atrioventricular blockage in the upper chambers of the heart. “Hell, glucagon, too. He might be diabetic.” Glucagon was used as a heart muscle relaxant that might improve his coronary functions.

  “Got it! I found the bleeder!” exclaimed the young surgical resident. He called for more suction and sponges as he worked to seal off the bleeding vessels.

  The lead surgeon continued to administer CPR as his surgical partner finished his work. The two young men were exhausted, but they continued their heroic efforts.

  “Dr. Ware?” The lead surgeon looked over his mask at the experienced anesthesiologist.

  “Twenty minutes. Checking the doppler. No blood flow and no cardia motion.”

  “Heart rate?” the lead surgeon asked as his partner hung his head and stepped away from the table, his shoulders drooping from exhaustion and surrender.

  “Asystole,” Dr. Ware replied. There was no discernible electrical activity on Squire’s EKG monitor.

  It was still flatlined.

  He was still dead.

  The surgeon looked to the heavens in disappointment. He removed his hands from Squire’s chest. He looked to the other doctors and nurses in the operating room. He didn’t have to ask their opinion; they all simply nodded, the look in their eyes speaking volumes.

  “Stop CPR. Time of death is 6:22 p.m.”

  On the other side of the glass, the sons of Squire Boone wailed in anguish and disbelief.

  Chapter 13

  Cedar Glade

  Billy Clark’s Residence

  Corydon, Indiana

  Randy drove his sheriff’s pickup onto Billy’s property, fishtailing in the gravel at the final turn to the front door. His abrupt appearance startled the deputies guarding Cedar Glade, the historic home acquired by Billy through a bank foreclosure years ago. The deputies had been warned to be prepared for townspeople descending upon the property to protest the appointment of Billy and Joella to the town council, but the anticipated threat never materialized.

  Just as Randy slammed the brakes and skidded to a stop, the front door was flung open. He was already wearing his pajamas and a mahogany-toned silk robe, which was tied in front. Tonight, Billy’s cocktail of choice appeared to be martinis, and he took a sip from the broad-rimmed glass and studied his brother.

  Randy bounded up the brick-inlaid steps and was greeted by the king of the castle.

  “What’s the hellfire emergency?” Billy asked, slightly slurring his words. His eyes appeared bloodshot, most likely from drinking the entire afternoon.

  “Inside,” replied Randy. “I’ve got news.”

  He pushed past his portly brother and waited in the foyer. Billy’s wife, Wanda, peeked over the second-story railing to see what all the hubbub was. She was also dressed in her pajamas. Randy glanced in her direction and immediately averted his eyes. Not out of respect, but rather, because he didn’t want the visual of what these two had been doing prior to his arrival.

  “Let’s go in my study,” said Billy, motioning with his glass. A small amount of his martini sloshed onto the Persian rug. Billy made no effort to clean up, opting instead to lower the level of alcohol in his glass by swigging it down.

  Randy stopped before he entered the study. Every square inch of the fairly large space was covered with file folders and paperwork. Only a small path leading from the double doors to Billy’s desk was available to stand in.

  “What the hell happened here?” asked Randy.

  “You don’t like my organized chaos?” Billy laughed as he replied.

  Randy noticed the empty banker’s boxes piled in a corner next to the French doors leading onto the back porch. “Are these your customers’ files?”

  “Yup, neatly organized by who’s been naughty and who’s been nice. Then I’ve sorted the ones who need dealing with, you know, by level of priority.”

  “Priority?”

  “Yeah,” Billy began to explain. He shuffled through the piles, the wide pant legs of his pajama bottoms occasionally dragging across the paperwork, pushing one pile into another. “These are the loans closest to their maturity date. This pile is already in default. And here on my desk are the loans that will get our immediate attention.”

  “Boone’s?”

  “You bet,” he replied as he slid around the corner of his desk and flopped into his tufted leather chair. “Front and center.” Billy opened Squire Boone’s loan file and mindlessly thumbed through the documents. He’d perused them dozens of times before.

  Randy looked around the room in search of a place to sit. The two leather armchairs had been pulled against the fireplace, but both were filled with folders. He opted to stand. “As luck would have it, that’s why I’m here.”

  Billy leaned forward onto the desk and rested his elbows. He was in a jovial mood. “Do tell.”

  “Well, like you suggested, I had my best deputy locate that farmhand you loaned money to for his wife’s surgery last spring. We made him an offer he couldn’t refuse, as you suggested.”

  “Good. So he’ll feed us information on Squire and his brood?”

  Randy smiled and shoved his hands in his pockets. He proudly puffed out his chest. “He already has. Apparently, the old man took ill. His kid, Chapman, the weatherman, drove Squire to the hospital in Fort Wayne. You know, ’cause the power’s on up there.”

  Billy sat up and moved on to the edge of his seat. “That serious? Why didn’t he just find one of the local docs?”

  “I guess it was, according to our informant. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

  Billy chuckled, his belly hopping up and down as he spoke. “Yep. Bought and paid for. The best kind.”

  “Anyway, our informant informs us that Squire is in a bad way. Some kind of serious gut problem. One of the farm’s employees saw them load him into the back of a truck, passed out.”

  “Passed out or dead?”

  “No such luck, little brother. Sarah went around afterwards and asked for everyone to pray for her husband while he gets treated at the hospital.”

  Billy laughed and rolled his eyes. He didn’t believe in god or anything else religious. He pulled the Boones’ loan file off his desk and leaned back in his chair. He began to slowly read the terms and conditions of the promissory note. As he did, he only emitted the occasional uh-hmm or yep, along with a belch in between.

  “Randy, I think we’ve got him now,” Billy proudly announced as he set the folder down on his desk. He removed several paperclips from h
is desk drawer and marked the provisions in the note that supported his decision.

  “Whadya mean? I thought the note wasn’t due for another few weeks.”

  “That’s true, but this serious, life-threatening illness changes everything.”

  “Hang on, Billy. I didn’t say—” interrupted Randy before his brother brusquely cut him off.

  Billy tapped the file folder with his index finger. “Hear me out. There are provisions dealing with what’s called anticipatory breach and impairment of collateral. If I can show that Squire is unable to fulfill his obligations under these documents, then I can declare him in default.”

  Randy tilted his head and scowled. “Are you sure, Billy? Maybe we should ask Jo’s opinion?”

  “No! Maybe we should let Jo run for governor or whatever the hell it is she wants out of life. This is bank business and that’s the bailiwick of yours truly. Squire Boone can’t run his farm, or harvest those apples, and pay his note if he’s laid up in a hospital bed, alive or dead.”

  Randy shrugged. He’d given up on trying to tell his brother what to do years ago. “So what’s the next step?”

  “A demand letter. I’ve got one drafted on my computer. I just need to fill in the blanks as to the reason for Boone’s default.”

  “Okay, but who’re you gonna serve it on? He’s in Fort Wayne somewhere.”

  Billy spun around in his chair and pushed some file folders to the side. He grabbed an expired copy of the Indiana Rules of Civil Procedure he’d taken from Joella’s office. He rifled through the pages until he found what he was looking for.

  “Right here. Rule four-point-one states service of a summons may be made by serving his agent.”

  Randy shook his head and pointed to the book. “Billy, now you’re in my area of expertise. This refers to summons and complaints that are filed in a court of law, not demand letters.”

  “It’s the best we have to go by. Besides, what better way is there to prove someone received a notice of default than to have the sheriff’s office deliver it in person?”

  “But what about this agent thing? Who is Squire’s agent?”

  Billy smiled—an evil, I-got-this grin. “Brother, don’t doubt me, okay? The Boones had a durable power of attorney drawn up, giving Sarah full authority to act on his behalf in the event of incapacitation. That makes her his agent, and that, Sheriff, authorizes your office to serve her with the demand letter.”

  Randy shook his head in amazement. “Well, I guess it does. Besides, whose gonna tell you no? Haven’t seen a judge in days.”

  “That’s right. Now, give me a minute and I’ll have you on your way to Riverfront Farms.” Billy began to furiously type on his computer, quietly celebrating what had turned out to be a most fortuitous day.

  Neither man noticed it had begun to rain.

  Chapter 14

  Riverfront Farms

  Southeast Indiana

  Behavioral scientists have tried to determine whether there was any truth to people’s belief in premonitions. Most explain away claims of precognition as being superstition, delusion, or simply the old Southern axiom—even a blind hog can find an acorn once in a while, meaning the fact a premonition came to pass was simply a matter of luck.

  The mistake most psychologists made during their research was to try to force the issue. In other words, they’d place their test subjects in a quiet room, free from outside interference, with electrodes attached to various parts of their body. Their goal? Measure the participant’s emotional and physical response to a series of pictures and stimuli to determine if they could predict the next image in a sequence.

  That’s not how premonitions work, and anyone who’s had one would agree. You can’t just conjure it up. It just happens.

  Carly and Rachel went back to their house to pick up a few things, escorted by Jesse, of course. Although Tommy couldn’t find any evidence of the person speaking with the deputy earlier, the family decided it would be prudent for everyone to bunk in at the main house from now on, regardless of their numbers.

  Kristi and Tommy decided to handle the evening watch on their own. Both were wired after taking brief naps that afternoon. Until the others returned from Fort Wayne, and in light of the sheriff’s car near their driveway entrance, the Boones raised their level of awareness for possible trouble.

  Daylight was waning as Sarah cleaned up the kitchen after supper. It wasn’t the sheriff’s car sighting that troubled her. Now that she was alone with her thoughts, she was able to recount the times she’d noticed Squire having difficulty working or performing mundane functions. She considered his weight loss and changed sleeping habits. There were so many signs that, considered separately, could’ve been easily shrugged off. However, looking back on them as a whole, she inwardly chastised herself for not insisting that her husband see a doctor.

  She glanced out the front door and noticed how eerily quiet it was. Sarah was superstitious in many ways even though it seemingly conflicted with her religious beliefs. So when a single, large crow lay dead in front of the house, it was seen by Sarah as a sign that someone she loved had passed away.

  She tried to shake the thought, walking toward the dead bird to confirm it wasn’t a piece of a trash bag or some other form of wayward debris. When she saw its lifeless eyes staring at her, she covered her mouth and walked back toward the house.

  Sarah shuddered despite the fact the temperatures were in the upper eighties and she was dressed to protect her skin from having contact with the sun. In that moment, a feeling of dread came over her. An inexplicable sense that a void had opened up within her.

  She wanted to run inside, but she was alone. She walked briskly down the driveway, hoping that Carly and her grandchildren would appear. She considered sounding the warning alarm using the air horn to summon Kristi and Tommy back to the house.

  She needed to talk to someone, anyone. Sarah Boone turned to God and, in prayer, begged Him to forgive her negative thoughts and to protect her husband in his time of need. Then she fell to her knees and cried alone, until the rain began to fall.

  At first, she thought she was dreaming. She scraped at the usually parched grass in front of their home and felt the moisture. She looked skyward and noticed the gathering clouds. They came so suddenly, she thought it was her eyes being deceived by the coming nightfall.

  But the raindrops were real and they began to drop with more frequency. Her melancholy mood filled with dread was washed away as it rained on Riverfront Farms for the first time in many months.

  Heavy rains. Life-giving, crop-soaking buckets of rain.

  “Like cats and dogs!” she exclaimed joyfully.

  She stood and spun around in the yard like Julie Andrews on a mountaintop in The Sound of Music. Sarah wanted to sing. She wanted to dance.

  But she remembered, once again, she was alone. She didn’t have a partner to join her. The love of her life wasn’t by her side.

  Chapter 15

  Lutheran Downtown Hospital

  Fort Wayne, Indiana

  Chapman and Levi were so grief-stricken they barely understood the surgeons’ explanation for why their father had died. The scene was surreal as the sons listened to the words but continued to stare at Squire’s lifeless body covered with a blood-soaked sheet on the operating table. It was if they expected him to sit up at any moment and demand to be taken home.

  They would take him to Riverfront Farms, but there’d be no joy-filled reunion of the family. The troubles the family had endured since the pole shift began to dramatically change the face of the planet became meaningless. For the boys, the thought of life without their father was overwhelming, especially for Levi, who was the closest to Squire.

  They were numb, in a state of shock, and experiencing inexplicable grief.

  Levi was the first to find his voice, and it was one of anger. “Why didn’t you do more? What about those paddles? I got the generators running and you didn’t even try.”

  “Sir, it doesn�
�t work like that. We followed the proper protocols.”

  Chapman tried to calm his brother, but his efforts were unsuccessful.

  “Proper? My dad’s dead! If you did your jobs, he wouldn’t be dead.”

  Dr. Ware emerged from the operating room to assist his young colleagues. “Sir, I’ve been working in operating rooms for two decades. I’ve never experienced a power outage like this one, not to mention the poor timing. We’re all sorry for your loss, but the circumstances—”

  Levi was having none of it. “Why didn’t you have backup lighting? Didn’t you think about these things before you cut my dad open?”

  Chapman tried to play peacemaker. “C’mon, Levi. Hollerin’ at these people won’t bring Dad back.”

  “Well, it might keep them from killin’ somebody else!”

  Levi was about to continue his rant when the power began to shut down again. The lights flickered and then went dark. Seconds later, the CyberPower battery backup turned on again, allowing the multicolored lights to provide an odd luminescent feel in the operating room. The nurses who were cleaning up after the surgery focused on preparing Squire’s body for transportation to the morgue in the basement of the hospital.

  The surgeons and Dr. Ware used the distraction as an opportunity to evade Levi’s wrath. While he and Chapman hugged one another, they slipped out of the surgical suite into the corridor, which was once again in a state of chaos.

  “Gawd, Chapman. What the heck are we supposed to do? Dad’s dead.” Levi began to sob uncontrollably again. Isabella joined the brothers and tried to comfort them both, rubbing Levi’s head as he buried it in his brother’s chest. The three held their embrace for a moment until the nurse began to wheel Squire’s body out of the operating room toward the hallway door.

  Chapman pulled away and confronted them in the darkened room. “Where are you taking him?”

  “The morgue, sir,” replied one of the nurses. “Ordinarily, we’d call for a pickup, but the phones aren’t—”