It was early dawn, two days after Stephen left for Mexico City, when Frank heard a helicopter approaching Cosala. At first, he thought he was hearing things. As soon as he realized what it was, he hollered for Emily and Mateo.
“Allison is here!”
Emily and Mateo came running. Emily had never seen a helicopter up close and stood wide-eyed as it landed in a clearing near the waterfall, the wind from the spinning rotors swirling dust and leaves toward the huts. Stephen and Allison ducked out of the helicopter before the rotors even stopped moving. If Frank remembered his history correctly, it was an old FCX-001, obviously rebuilt and in top condition.
Frank quickly grabbed Allison in a hug. Over the diminishing noise of the chopper, he introduced Allison to Emily.
“Emily, this is Dr. Allison Simpson-Anton. Allison, this is Emily, Brogan and Bryan’s daughter. And this is Mateo, Juan’s son.”
“Mateo and I met before in Mexico City, but Emily, it is delightful to finally meet you. We’ll talk more later. But, now, where is your mother? Let’s see what we can do about getting her back on her feet, shall we?”
Emily’s eyes filled with tears at the positive and gentle words the lovely woman said to her as she took her arm. She eagerly led her into the hut where her mother lay. Without preamble, Allison, began her examination, checking her eyes, temperature, and blood pressure. She looked up and saw everyone else hovering at the entrance to the hut.
“Okay, everyone out, except Emily. You are blocking the light. Frank get me some more solar lamps in here. I need to see what I’m doing. Emily, can you move some of these books out of the way and bring me some clean water? Also, before you leave, open the curtains so I can get more air in here, too.”
Everyone jumped as the doctor ordered them around, but it was exactly what they needed to get their minds off the patient and on to the tasks she assigned. Within a few minutes, things were arranged to her satisfaction in the hut. Allison pulled out a syringe and a bottle of antibiotics, injecting them into Brogan’s wasted buttocks.
“Why are you not injecting into her arm?” Emily asked curiously.
“It will get through her system much faster this way,” Allison said patiently. “Now, let’s remove the tunic and give her a cool bath. I want to check her skin after I start an IV to make sure she doesn’t have any ticks or other parasites causing this fever.”
Emily helped get the IV going, although it took a while for the doctor to find a vein in the emaciated body. She assisted the doctor as she carefully looked over every inch of Brogan’s skin to make sure there was no sign of ticks or other parasites. She paused as she noticed several insect bite marks on the back of her legs and arms. When she was satisfied she had thoroughly examined her, they gently bathed her and put on a clean tunic.
It was obvious to Allison, Emily was very intelligent and, like her mother, curious. So, she explained every step of the examination to her.
“I am going to take a blood sample to see if I can identify what may be causing the fever. Hold your mother’s hand while I give her finger a bit of a poke.”
She pulled a gadget out of one of the pockets of her scrubs. A needle on the end poked Brogan’s finger. The drops of blood were smeared on to a strip and slid into the instrument. Within a few seconds, some medical terms scrolled across the viewing screen.
“Just as a thought,” Allison murmured. “Your mother is severely anemic and has contracted a virus. It’s called Dengue Fever and is caused by a mosquito bite. Given her severe reaction, I’m guessing she has had it before. Do you know if she was ever in the South?”
“I’ve been reading her journals, but I haven’t gotten that far yet. Maybe Pop-Pop knows; I mean my grandfather.”
Allison stuck her head out of the hut. “Frank, do you know if Brogan was ever in the southern states?”
“I’m not sure,” he said, “But she briefly said something about a slave camp. That might have been in the south.”
“Emily, why don’t you skim through those journals and see if you can find anything about the south. I want to be as sure as I can. The treatment for multiple episodes of Dengue Fever is more intense than if this is her first case of it.”
Emily read enough of the journals to know they were generally in sequential order, so she quickly skimmed through, looking for any reference to southern states. She looked for only about 30-minutes when she found a reference in one of the last journals to Mississippi and a slave camp.
“Doctor, I think I found it!” Emily said triumphantly.
“Let me see.”
Allison quickly skimmed through the journal entries, her expression growing more and more grim as she read about the horrors Brogan had endured in the slave camp. Her hands started to shake in anger. She got ahold of herself, took a deep breath and began reading out loud.
After I’d been in the slave camp for several weeks, I got very ill with fever. My joints ached, and I could hardly get off the dirt floor where I slept with the other female slaves.
I was fortunate. My fellow slaves helped me to the fields and covered for me when I almost fell several times because I was so weak. The slave overseer was known for shooting slaves who couldn’t pull their own weight.
I will never know how I managed to make it through that horrible week. I had a high fever and constantly had to cool myself off in the bayou waters.
She’d read enough. She looked up at Emily. “Good job, sweetie. This is exactly what I needed. Your mother has had this before, I’m sure. Now I know what I need to do.”
Allison looked through her medical bag and found the vial of a new vaccine she developed the previous month, a vaccine specifically for Dengue Fever, a common malady in the south and South American countries. Because Brogan had undoubtedly been infected before, she knew a double dose was necessary; a single shot wasn’t enough. And, if she wasn’t better in 24 hours, it might necessitate a third shot.
“The reader indicates Brogan is 0+ blood type. Emily do you know you or Frank’s blood type? Your mother is going to need a blood transfusion for the anemia and she is too weak to fight the fever without the transfusion to help.”
“No, I don’t know. Let me ask Pop-Pop.” She ran out of the hut to ask him.
“I’m 0+ blood type, Allison. What do you need?” Frank replied as he poked his head into the hut.
“Great. Let me give Brogan the vaccines and then I’ll set up everything for a blood transfusion. Mateo, Stephen, set up a cot for Frank to lie on, please.”
Within a short time, the blood draw was completed, and the transfusion started for Brogan. After an hour, Brogan’s waxy, pale skin began to show some color and her temperature began to drop. A couple more hours, after a second transfusion, Brogan’s eyes opened. They opened even wider when she saw Allison.
“Allison,” she croaked, “What are you doing here?”
“Well, girlfriend, I haven’t seen you in so long, I just thought I’d pop in for a visit,” she said with a huge grin. The two women became close friends after they escaped from the emperor’s prison near Boston.
Emily helped to raise her mother to a sitting position for a long drink of water when she asked for it. She looked at all the worried faces peering in the door of the hut.
“What’s going on? Why are you all looking so down in the mouth? Did somebody die?”
Everyone started laughing at once.
“She’s back!” Frank shouted, as he clapped Stephen on the back. “Thanks, Doc.”
“What’s he talking about?” Brogan asked, as she tried to get out of bed.
“Oh no you don’t,” Allison said with a stern look. “You stay right there.”
Allison looked at Emily with a smile. “You explain it to your mother, sweetie.”
“It’s like this, mother,” Emily said with a huge grin. “You almost died.” When she realized what she just said, she burst into tears and collapsed at the end of her mother’s cot. Now Brogan was even more bewildered.
&nbs
p; “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” she asked weakly.
Frank stepped into the hut and knelt beside Brogan’s cot. “Honey, your daughter has refused to leave your side for the last week. She’s right. You almost died. And if it hadn’t been for Emily and Allison, you probably would have died.”
He struggled to his feet, his arthritic knees creaking.
Allison stood over the cot and took Brogan’s hand. “Did you have at least one bout of a bad fever, with achy joints while you were in the slave camp?”
Brogan looked startled. “How did you know about that?”
“I thought that might be the case and we checked your journals to be sure. I had to know since it would make a huge difference in how I treated you. Emily’s the one who discovered it.”
“Oh, Sweetheart,” Brogan said weakly as she looked at her daughter, who was now hiccupping from trying to control her sobbing. “I wanted to tell you about everything myself. I didn’t mean for you to find out by reading the journals.”
“I know, Mother,” Emily said through her tears, “But I’m glad I read them. I feel like I got to know you. I kinda got caught up on all the years we missed together. I am so proud of you. I hope I can be just like you someday. And, if you will let me, I want to read the rest of them.”
“Thanks, Emily. That means a lot to me. We have a lot to catch up on, don’t we?”
Brogan turned to Allison. “So, what’s the diagnosis, Doc?”
“What you have is probably another dose of Dengue Fever, caused by a mosquito bite. Do you remember getting bit recently?”
Brogan thought for a moment. “Yes. On the trek here, at one point I had to wade through some swamps near the Batopilas Canyon, just before I caught the train to Los Mochis. I remember there were a lot of mosquitos. I was getting bitten so much I finally covered my skin with mud to keep them away.”
“That’s probably when you caught the fever again. There is a three to four-day incubation period, so you were starting to get sick about the time you arrived here, right?”
“I remember feeling really weak and achy when I walked up to the huts, but I just thought it was from the long walk.”
“You need to be very careful from now on in any areas where there might be mosquitos. I’m guessing the natives around here have some type of plants they use for a repellant. Get some and use it all the time. The next fever you get could be fatal.”
“Can I get up now?”
“Not yet. You need lots of rest and good food. You are way too thin.” She turned to Frank.
“Frank, you need to fatten her up.”
“Yes, ma’am!” he enthusiastically. “It will be my pleasure to spoil the dickens out of her.”
“And I’ll help!” In unison, Emily and Mateo chimed in.
Stephen laughed. “Yeah, like you guys know how to cook. Guess I have my work cut off for me before I head back to the rebel camp. Allison, can you stay for supper?”
“Absolutely. By the way, where is the helicopter pilot?”
“Mac? Oh, he’s sitting by the creek. He wanted to say hello to Brogan but didn’t want to interfere until she felt like it.”
Brogan struggled to sit up, shock on her face. “No! Don’t tell me. Not Mac. Big guy. Red beard. Big mouth?”
“Yep! That’s Mac. Do you want to see him?”
“Absolutely!”
Big Mac filled the small hut. He almost did not recognize the emaciated old woman on the cot; not until she smiled. And then his heart melted. He would never forget the brilliant, beautiful woman who helped him and Herbert escape after the explosion of the nuclear generating station south of Boston almost 13 years ago. He could feel her bones as he gently hugged her. He struggled to hold the tears back. He had to clear his voice before he could speak.
“Boy, you’ll do anything for attention, won’t you,” he managed to say with a big grin.
Brogan pushed him away from her and looked at him. The purple hair she gave him as a false identity was gone, of course. His red hair was thinner on top, but his bushy red beard had grown back, surrounding that delightful grin she remembered so well.
“Okay, how in the world did you become a helicopter pilot? And what’s the story with you and Herbert? I want to know it all.” Brogan laid weakly back on the cot.
Allison stepped up. “Not now. You’ve had enough excitement for now. You need to rest. It’s too late for us to head back tonight, right Mac? So, we will have time to catch up in the morning, okay?”
“You’re the doctor,” Brogan said. “For some reason, I seem to have no energy.”
“Well, that might just have something to do with the fact you almost died; you think maybe? I’m going to have Frank bring you something to eat and then we’ll leave you alone.”
“Wait,” Brogan anxiously looked around, “Where’s Herman?”
Emily, who had been quietly standing in the corner, now knelt beside her mother’s cot, took her hand and told her about Herman’s death. About how they were sure he waited to die until she came home. Both cried a while, but it was with the knowledge the brave, old German Shepherd and friend died content.
Brogan laid back on the cot and fell into her first dreamless, healing sleep in over a week, surrounded by her friends and loved ones.
Chapter Nine
Explosives Expert and Pilot
Mac walked out of Brogan’s hut and stumbled to the edge of the creek, his eyes blinded with unshed tears. He fell to his knees and allowed himself to feel what he for too long denied. It wasn’t until he saw her lying on the cot he finally admitted to himself he loved Brogan and had since the first day he laid eyes on her more than twelve years ago. She might look like a shell of the beautiful woman she had been, but he could still see her soul shining back at him from those incredible emerald eyes.
He knelt there, heedless of the dirt now covering the knees of his BL rebel uniform. He clinched his huge fists as he thought about what she must have endured since he last saw her slip off the boat into the Mississippi River.
Why didn’t I do more to protect her? I should have tried to find her. He slammed his fists into the ground beside him.
“Whoa, Big Mac. What’s gotten in to you?” Stephen asked quietly as he sat beside him. “I’ve never seen you this upset. If it is about Brogan, Doc says she’s going to be fine.”
Mac struggled to get control of his emotions. “Guess I’m just feeling guilty because I didn’t do more to hunt for her after we got separated in the Mississippi River. If I had, maybe she wouldn’t have landed in that slave camp. And maybe she wouldn’t be in the shape she is in now.”
“Not your fault, man. Besides, like Herbert told me, he would never have survived if you hadn’t been with him. It is what it is. You can’t change the past. And Brogan is going to be fine. She’s one tough cookie.”
“I know. But it is hard to see her like this.” He swallowed hard.
The two men sat companionably for a while without saying anything.
“I don’t think I ever told you this, Mac,” Stephen said, “But Brogan was there with my son, Bryan and me when my wife died. She was a tower of strength for both of us during that very difficult time. When my son was murdered in that cave-in caused by the grenade in Mazatlán, there were a few things which kept me going: my granddaughter, Emily; the hope Brogan was alive somewhere; and my faith in God.
“When she and Allison managed to survive the emperor’s prison and she became the White Warrior to seek revenge for Bryan’s death, I hated to see how hard she became, but I was also glad she was alive. I knew someday the compassionate, caring Brogan would come back to us. To see her now, like this, is hard, too, but at least she is still alive. She is a survivor and a phenomenal leader. I’m convinced she still has a role to play somehow in helping to defeat Emperor Priest. We just need to wait and see what that role is and figure out how we can support her. And I’m sure she’ll want your help, if you are willing.”
Mac stood. “I
’m sure you are right, Stephen. And I’ll do everything I can to support her.”
Stephen also stood and reached up and placed his hand on the big man’s shoulder. “I know you will. Now, how about we go back and get some dinner. I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.”
“You know me, Stephen, I always have room for chow.” Mac swallowed his pain, knowing now was not the time to talk about his love for this remarkable woman. It was obvious he was not the only one who loved her.
The two walked back to the huts where everyone was pitching in to prepare supper. In the past twelve years, the men of the family built a covered, wooden kitchen hut where meals could be prepared out of the reach of frequent rain storms. Stephen purchased a solar powered cook stove, greatly improving the meal preparations compared to the over-the-campfire first kitchen. The original mud huts with thatched roofs were replaced with small wooden huts for each of them, each painted in a colorful hue. Over the years, other solar-powered conveniences were added, but always with the idea they might have to go on the run if the emperor’s troops ever found them.
Now, over a delicious supper of rice, fish, beans and quesadillas, Emily peppered Mac and Allison with questions about her mother. Allison told stories about their university days, including the attempted assassination by a University of Texas Austin security guard. Emily sat wide-eyed as she told the story of Sandra Bernhardt, BL traitor who lost her tongue as payment for her crimes. How she eventually became a White Warrior and gave her life in the explosion which destroyed the cyborg army being built, partially destroying the emperor’s glass-pyramid.
Mac’s stories about Brogan were funny, as he told them about how he first met her. “She was disguised as a man. Boy, was I shocked when I found out she was a beautiful woman. Then she got back at my snide remarks by dying my red hair purple as a disguise.”
The Mother Warrior Page 5
