The Decay of Humanity Series (Book 2): Descent of Humanity

by Dawn, M. K.

  Or she could call Sloan and ask if she knew anything about this virus. Because of her status in the medical community, the doctors she knew kept her updated on the latest happenings.

  Pulling up to the house, Britney let out an audible sigh. As she predicted, John had given up on resting. Instead, he had saddled their horse, Mabel, and had a rifle strapped across his body.

  “Just what in the hell do you think you’re doin’?” Britney asked over the dogs that jumped and barked at Mabel’s heels. Thank God the poor horse grew up with the hounds or John would have been thrown off by now, adding numerous broken bones to his already weakened state.

  “Daddy called; said he saw bear droppings this morning just outside his fence line. I’m going to check things out.”

  “Keepin’ bears out was the main reason we installed the high fence.”

  John mounted the horse. “But my parents don’t have a high fence, which leaves their livestock vulnerable.”

  “They could have. The fence guys would have given them a hell of a deal.”

  John’s family ranch butted up against her family’s land. As an only child, John’s parents relied on him to help out when the stresses of ranching became too much. Many times she had tried to convince John to hire a few ranch hands to help his father—Lord knew his family could afford it—but her suggestion had fallen on deaf ears.

  “Campbells take care of their own.” A stupid motto, if she were being honest. Not that she would ever tell John that. Family was everything to him.

  “You know Daddy’s old school when it comes to things like that.” John removed his baseball cap and wiped his brow. “I won’t be gone too long.”

  Britney noticed how discolored his skin had grown in the fifteen minutes it had taken to get the kids on the bus. “I don’t think you should be goin’ anywhere. Have you looked in the mirror this mornin’?”

  “I know I look like shit, as you’ve already told me, but honestly I don’t feel too bad. A little worn out, I suppose, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

  Britney watched as the two black lab-pit mutts wrestled in the dirt. They had wandered up to the house a few years ago. Skin and bones, she didn’t think the puppies would last through the night, let alone become some of the best dogs she’d ever own.

  “Those two going with you, right?” The dogs were good at scaring predators away.

  “Like I could stop them.” John rubbed Mabel’s mane. “Let’s go, girl.”

  Britney threw her head back and groaned. “You have your cell phone?”

  John patted the front pocket of his shirt. “Got it right here.”

  “Be careful, please.” She didn’t like the idea of him wandering the ranch alone. “And don’t stay out too long. You need to get some rest.”

  He waved as Mabel headed down the path she knew all too well. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

  ***

  Two hours passed and still John hadn’t returned home. She’d tried his cell half a dozen times with no luck. Reception was spotty out in the fields, but for her to call six times and him not answer?

  Most days she wouldn’t worry—it wasn’t uncommon for him to leave at dawn and not come home until dusk without a word all day—but with him being sick….

  She swung open the screen door of the house and headed to the gate leading into the fields. There was no sign of him, only cattle. She’d check the hay barns next, praying she’d find him piddling around with God knew what, his phone on vibrate and forgotten.

  “John?” she called out in the noiseless barn. In the back he had what Britney had dubbed his man cave with a small cot, TV and a beer fridge—everything he needed. She peeked inside and found it empty. And a freaking mess. Where the hell was his trash can?

  “Dammit, John. Stay in bed and rest. Why is that so hard?” She quickly checked the livestock barn and their multitude of sheds with no luck.

  The only other option would be to take the four-wheeler out and check the pastures.

  Britney ran inside to change into boots. Grabbing a jacket, she jumped on the four-wheeler and headed out. The downside of taking it was the noise it made. Damn thing was loud, and it was nearly impossible to hear over the rumble of the engine.

  She drove along the fence line, the way John normally went when checking for any issues. The drive went on for a good while through the flat farmlands, making it easier to see for a good distance. About halfway into the first pasture, Britney cut the engine and listened, afraid John would call out for help but she’d be unable to hear him. Grass rustled in the cool breeze, but she heard nothing else.

  “John!” Growing up in the country, she’d learned to yell loud. Back then, without cell phones, it was the only way to call someone in from the fields.

  The distant sound of dogs barking caught her attention. Not unusual, as the dogs barked all the damn time, but they knew to stay close by. If she could pinpoint where the sound came from, it would lead her to John.

  She fired up the four-wheeler and headed across the pasture toward the back acres that butted up to her in-laws’ land.

  “John!” she called out again as Mabel came into view, her saddle hanging off to the side.

  Britney hit the throttle before skidding to a stop a few feet from the oblivious horse. “Get home.” She patted Mabel on the back and the horse took off.

  Scanning the area, Britney found John lying on his back not twenty yards away, the dogs nestled beside him.

  “Jesus.” She rushed to him and fell to her knees. “John, can you hear me?”

  The rise and fall of his chest gave her some comfort. He was unconscious but alive. She retrieved the phone from her back pocket and dialed 911. A busy signal greeted her from the other end.

  “What the hell?” She disconnected and tried again, her eyes trained on John.

  Three attempts later, the line finally rang.

  A woman answered, her voice bordering on the edge of frantic. “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

  “Yes, my husband’s sick and fell off his horse. He’s unconscious and unresponsive. We’re out in a pasture. I need help!”

  “I can try to get someone out to you, but it might be quicker if you can bring him to the hospital yourself. And only if necessary.”

  “What do you mean? If I could get him to the hospital myself, I wouldn’t have called you.”

  “I’m so sorry”—the woman's voice cracked—“but we’re overloaded with calls.”

  “How is that possible?” They lived in a small town in a small county where most people didn’t believe in going to the doctor, let alone the hospital. “Can you call another county?”

  “There are so many sick. Even our EMS drivers are coming down with the virus, collapsing while responding to calls. And it’s not just us. It’s everywhere.”

  Britney fell backward, landing hard on her butt. “What is this?”

  “Nobody knows. But it’s spreading fast. My advice to you is stay home if you can.”

  “What about my husband?”

  The woman sniffled. “I’m so sorry. I’ve put in your request, but I don’t know when or if someone will respond.”

  “Have there been any fatalities?” She stared down at John. “I mean… will he get better on his own?”

  “I don’t know….” The dispatcher’s voice trailed off.

  “Cancel the request.” The phone slipped in Britney’s trembling fingers. The woman called out for her, but Britney hung up.

  John couldn’t wait for the possibility of an ambulance showing up. He needed to see a doctor, and not just because of the virus; unconscious after falling off the horse, he could have a concussion.

  “Honey, I’m goin’ to be right back.” She turned to the dogs. “Stay.”

  She climbed on the four-wheeler and took off back to the house at full speed, the wind prickling her skin. As fast as she drove, it wasn’t near fast enough. Leaving John hurt and alone broke her heart in more ways than she thought possible.


  Back at the house, she sprinted upstairs and into the kids’ bathroom. In the linen closet was a first aid kit her sister had given her after Carson’s birth, a little welcome home present from the doctor in the family.

  Britney had laughed at some of the items. Bandages, Neosporin, and children’s ibuprofen she understood, but smelling salts for a child’s first aid kit?

  Sloan had said they might come in handy one day. Britney hated when she was right.

  With the kit in hand, Britney grabbed the truck keys and bolted out the door, back to John.

  The cows had moved closer to the house, which meant Britney would have to close the gate behind her as she went through. An annoying task even when she wasn’t in a hurry, but the last thing they needed when they got back home was the cows running loose.

  The drive back to John felt like an eternity. She pulled up so the passenger door opened to him and jumped out, smelling salts in hand. If he didn’t wake up with this, she’d be screwed. There was no way she could get him into the truck by herself.

  “I’m back.” She kneeled beside him and ran the smelling salts under his nose while shaking him. “John, can you hear me? Wake up! Wake up!”

  His eyelids fluttered, and he groaned.

  “John, can you hear me?” Tears welled in Britney’s eyes. “John?”

  “Yep. What the hell happened?”

  Britney exhaled a shaky breath. “You fell off the horse, that’s what happened. Because you’re sick and should have been restin’.”

  “My head is killing me.”

  “That’s because you probably have a concussion. I need to get you to the hospital. Can you stand?”

  John waved her off as he attempted to sit up. “No hospitals. I’m fine.”

  “Are you?” She backed away. “Then get up by yourself. Show me you’re fine.”

  He managed to get to a sitting position, but not to his feet. “Give me a minute.”

  “See, you can’t even stand by yourself.” She hooked her arm under his shoulder. “Let me help you.”

  Him being twice her weight and a foot taller than her made helping him up a challenge, but she steadied him enough that he climbed in the truck.

  “See?” He lay back against the headrest. “I’m already getting better.”

  Britney took off through the pasture toward the house. “Sure you are.”

  “Can you not drive through the crops?”

  “I’m not.” Even with a concussion, he couldn’t help himself, but she’d let it go until he got better. “We’re in the front pasture closest to the house.”

  “Can you fix up the couch for me? I don’t think I can make it up the stairs.”

  Britney got out of the truck without responding to open the gate. Once through, she closed it again, cursing under her breath. They’d been meaning to install the solar gates John had stored in one of his sheds but hadn’t gotten around to it.

  “Buckle your seat belt.”

  Britney went through the whole routine again with the front gate.

  “I said no hospital,” John said when she climbed back into the truck. “I feel better.”

  His eyes had perked up a little, but his skin still had an ashy tint.

  “Too bad. I have no idea how long you were unconscious.” Her gaze met John’s. “Please get checked out.”

  The corner of John’s mouth twitched. “Well, since you said ‘please.’”

  ***

  “Good God.” Britney pulled over when they reached the packed little hospital. Dozens of people stood outside, including a couple of security guards at the emergency entrance. “This is crazy. There’s no way all of these people can be sick.”

  “We should go home. It’s not worth it.”

  Britney glared at him. The whole way here—the entire forty-five minutes—all he did was complain about having to go to the hospital. “I found you unconscious in a field. You need to see a doctor.”

  “We could have stopped at the med clinic in Myrefall.”

  “Are you serious?” Britney scrunched her nose. “They can’t even handle a splinter, let alone a concussion.”

  John chuckled, then proceeded to hack for a solid minute.

  “And you don’t need a hospital?”

  “Just a little tickle in my throat.”

  Britney refrained from rolling her eyes. “Maybe they’ll let me drive through the emergency lane and drop you off at the door. That way you don’t have to walk.”

  “I doubt it.” John leaned his head back. “Just find a parking spot. My legs aren’t broken.”

  He might be awake, but he still looked horrible. “Broken legs or not, I’m not sure you can make it from the overflow lot across the street. And I don’t see anything closer.”

  “Brit, if I say I can make it, I can make it. Like I told you, I’m feeling much better.”

  She eyeballed the main parking lot and the distance to the hospital. “And if you fall? There’s no way I’ll be able to get you off the ground.”

  “If I fall, which I won’t, I’m sure you can find someone to come help me up.”

  Reverse lights caught her attention as a car backed out of a parking spot. “There!” She made a sharp U-turn, foot heavy on the gas.

  The unexpected movement threw John against the window. “Jesus, woman. Slow down. You’re driving like a crazy person.”

  “I didn’t want anyone to steal this spot.”

  “There’s no one around.”

  Britney eased the truck into the small space. “This is the only one not across the street. If I didn’t hurry to park here, someone would have. It’s like twice the distance.”

  “Distance isn’t going to matter if you knock me out.”

  She put the truck into Park. “Do you want me to go in first while you wait here? I can check how long the wait is and sign you in.”

  “If the wait’s too long, do we get to go home?”

  “No.”

  John opened the door, careful not to hit the car next to them. “Then I might as well go in with you and wait. At least in there I can get a crappy cup of coffee.”

  “John.” She was sick of his flippant attitude. “You’re actin’ like I’m doin’ this to piss you off or punish you. Do you know how scared I was to find you lyin’ in the field? I thought you were dead.”

  His face softened. “You’re right. I’m sorry. If you think I need to see a doctor, then I’ll sit in the waiting room, mouth shut, and see the doctor.”

  “It’s not just me.” She exited the truck and hurried to the passenger side to help John out. “Your mother agrees with me.”

  “Of course she does. She’s a worrier too.”

  Britney had called John’s parents on the way, not knowing how long they’d be here. Someone needed to be at the house when the kids got off the bus.

  “Let me help you.”

  John brushed her off. “I can do it myself. Besides, there’s not enough room for both of us.”

  Britney watched as he wobbled alongside the truck. “Are you sure you don’t need some help? I can see if I can find a wheelchair. And an orderly to push you.”

  “Funny.” He tottered beside her as they headed for the emergency entrance.

  The short walk took an excruciating amount of time, and each of his unsteady steps put her more on edge. John wasn’t what most would consider athletic, but he’d spent his entire life working on a farm. The manual labor kept him strong. Seeing him struggle to just put one foot in front of the other scared the shit out of her.

  “See.” John paused for a breather as they reached the security guards. “I made it and didn’t fall.”

  “It only took you ten minutes to do so.”

  “Can I help you?” A gruff security guard named Max, according to his nameplate, crossed his arms, accenting his bulging biceps that clashed with his round belly.

  “My husband fell off his horse this mornin’. I found him unconscious, called 911, but the operator said it would b
e quicker if I drove him myself.” Her eyes darted to the approaching ambulance—the third one since they’d arrived. “And I can see why. You guys are swamped.”

  “We’re not allowing visitors due to the influx of patients. Lots of people been trying to lie their way in.” Max took a moment to inspect John. “But you look like hell. Better head inside. Got to warn you, it’ll be awhile.”

  John huffed. “Wonderful.”

  “Inside.” Britney tugged at his arm. “The sooner we sign in, the sooner you’ll be seen and we can go home.”

  He dragged his feet but followed her inside. “Holy shit.”

  “This is insane.” She knew it would be busy from the number of cars outside, but this? There were people everywhere, taking up all the chairs and most floor space. Finding a path to the nurses' station would require a certain amount of coordination that John did not possess at the moment. “Wait here. I’ll sign you in.”

  John slumped against the nearby wall. “Yep.”

  Britney navigated through the crowd, careful not to step on any toes or fingers. A few people attempted to scoot out of the way, but most didn’t even acknowledge her as she passed.

  “Hi,” she greeted the nurse, who didn’t bother to look up as she approached. “I need to sign in my husband.”

  The nurse—Chloe, according to her name badge—tapped the clipboard on the counter.

  “I see the sign-in sheet, but it’s full.”

  “Try the next page.”

  Britney flipped through all three sheets—a total of sixty people—and her heart sank. “They’re all full.”

  Chloe glanced up from the chart in her hand and sighed. “What’s wrong with… who did you say you brought in?”

  “My husband. He fell off his horse, and I found him unconscious.”

  She glanced past Britney. “Is he unconscious now?”

  Britney raised an eyebrow. “No, but—”

  “Is there vomiting? Confusion? Dizziness? Ringing in the ears? Any other concerning symptom?”