The Dry Rain
Page 7
“Dad? Dad, it’s Daniel. Do you know where everyone is? Who’s taking care of you?”
The old man rolled his head to the side, a faint cough escaping his lips.
“Get out now, boy. The moths are biting, the worms are feeding. Leave us. Save yourself.”
Daniel shook his head, carefully pulling the blanket back and looking the man over from head to toe. When he saw the heavy metal frame and the rods coming out of his dad’s knee, he rubbed the side of his face with one hand.
“What the hell happened?” he murmured, not really expecting an answer.
“Shudda stayed on the farm,” the man said, closing his eyes. “Died with dignity in our own home. Your mom didn’t deserve what she got. Neither did Bessie.”
Daniel frowned. “Bessie the cow? What are you talking about?” He shook his head again. “Never mind. We need to get you out of here, and fast.” He dropped the blanket back over his dad’s frail body. “I’m going to see if I can find a wheelchair. Or an ambulance. Both. Just stay…I’ll be right back.”
It took longer than he would have liked, but an hour later, Daniel made sure the last strap was secure and moved to the driver’s seat of the ambulance. Turning the key, he started the engine and gave the abandoned hospital one last look. He’d called for help, and supposedly emergency units were on the way from the next county. But he couldn't wait. He had to get his Dad out of here. The hospital in Tulsa was ready and waiting.
The only logical decision, though he felt like a monster for just leaving everyone else behind. Not to mention the little girl he'd killed. It seemed like a bad nightmare he couldn't wake up from.
Shifting the bus into gear, he glanced over his shoulder at his dad one last time before stepping lightly on the gas.
And hit the brake again just as fast, his heart beating a million miles a minute as he stared into the face of the woman who he’d barely missed earlier. She was standing right in front of the ambulance, her hands on the hood, and when he stopped, she moved around to the passenger door and pulled it open.
“Have you seen two kids - a boy and a girl? They brought me here. Can you help me find them?”
Daniel closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath before he met her frantic stare again. He shook his head.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but they’re both dead. I carried them inside myself. I’m…sorry.”
Chapter 24
“Dead?!” Angie braced herself on the frame of the emergency vehicle. “Oh God,” she gasped, putting one hand over her mouth and doubling over. Her stomach rolled, and for a moment, she thought she’d be sick. Forcing herself mostly upright, she met the man’s eyes, wondering why he looked familiar. Her head was still foggy, and she still wasn’t sure how she’d gotten from the car to the grassy island in the center of the emergency room drive up. She’d finally started to come around a couple of minutes ago, and her first thought had been for Micah and Bailey. How could they be dead? They’d survived so much already.
“How did it happen? Did you see?” The man shifted uncomfortably and looked away.
“Look,” he said without making eye contact. “The kids are in the hospital on a gurney in the hall just inside those doors. I need to get my dad out of here - he needs medical care, and everyone’s gone. That’s all I can tell you. I’m sorry.”
There was something he wasn’t telling her - she was sure of it. But she still couldn’t believe that Micah and Bailey were gone. A rustling from the back of the ambulance caught her attention just before someone called out.
“They’re eating me, son. You have to leave me. Save yourself, please!”
The man behind the wheel finally looked Angie in the eye. “I need to go. Please.”
She nodded and backed away, closing the passenger door. After he drove away, she turned toward the hospital doors, and her own car parked right in front of them. A deep, vertical dent in the back driver’s side door that hadn’t been there before caught her eye, and she moved closer, running her fingers over the scratched grooves and flecks of dark blue paint on the tan surface.
Paint that matched the car parked just a few feet away, with matching paint flecks from her car on the front bumper.
If she’d still been laying in the back seat when whoever was driving the blue sedan had struck the side, she would have been killed.
Moving toward the hospital doors again, she spotted an empty syringe on the ground near her car, but didn’t stop to pick it up. She hurried through the doors and stopped just inside, scanning the hall until she saw two familiar heads nestled together on a gurney, just as the man in the ambulance had said.
She didn’t want to know, not really. But she’d been drugged, and it seemed she was going to live. What if the same thing had happened to the children? She couldn’t leave, not without knowing for sure if she could do something, anything to help them.
Her stomach in her throat, she approached the bed, forcefully swallowing back bile. The children looked peaceful, laying together like that, and for a moment, she thought surely they must just be sleeping.
She reached out and touched two fingers to Bailey’s neck, mentally counting off the seconds that passed even though the skin was already growing cold. There was no movement under her fingers, and she finally forced herself to repeat the action with Micah.
Nothing.
It didn’t make sense. They’d risked everything to get her here, to help her, and now they were dead and she was still alive? It was unfathomable.
Her knees buckled and she crumpled to the floor, leaning back against the cold steel legs of the gurney. Hugging her knees to her chest, she let the tears fall, frustration and sadness and anger and fear all purging at once, her mind overwhelmed to the point of madness. Or it felt that way, at least. She had no idea how long she cried, but light turned to dark, and still she sat. There was nothing to do, nowhere to go. Everyone she loved was dead, and the moths were biting. It was only a matter of time.
Quick footsteps squeaked toward her and she looked up, her bleary eyes taking a few seconds to fully focus on the man who stopped in front of her. Dressed in green scrubs and carrying a tray full of syringes, he had a kind smile and knelt down, setting the tray on the floor.
“You look like you could use some help,” he said, his voice gentle. Soothing. “Are you hurt?”
Angie nodded, putting a hand to her heart. “Right here,” she said, patting her chest. “My heart hurts. Everyone I love is dead. I don’t know what to do. What do I do now?” She looked at him, helpless. His strong, warm fingers folded around hers, his smile never slipping.
“I can give you something that will help. It will stop the hurt, and make you feel better. Would you like that?”
She nodded again. “Please. I don’t want to hurt anymore.”
The man let go of her hands and picked up one of the syringes, flicking off the cap and then reaching for her arm.
“You’ll just feel a little sting. Try to relax. It’s going to be okay.”
Epilogue
Six months later, Daniel Addison opened the door of his apartment and nodded at the two police officers standing in the hall.
“What can I do for you, officers?”
One of them flipped open a small notepad. “Do you own a dark blue Buick LeSabre, Mr. Addison?”
He nodded. “I do. Or I did. I wrecked it in Whiskey Creek when I went to get my dad out of the hospital there. I swerved to avoid hitting a woman in the street, and hit another car. The insurance company said it was totaled.”
The officer scribbled in his notebook, while the other not so subtly tried to look past him into the apartment. Daniel opened the door wider. He had nothing to hide.
“Do you have company?” The second officer asked.
Daniel shook his head. “My dad lives with me now. He can't walk, due to the injuries his knee sustained through the whole moth thing, and he was traumatized by being left alone and drugged, hallucinating while they killed everyone else. He needs
twenty-four hour care now.” The officer nodded. Everyone knew what had happened in Whiskey Creek. How everyone went mad once the government had started spraying with experimental pesticides, and the moths had started biting. How the local government had tried to cover it up by killing off the population with tainted food and euthanasia at the hospital.
Genocide, right there in the heartland. Thankfully, the moths had died out naturally shortly after that nightmare, though it would be years before the earth recovered. If it ever did.
The first officer was speaking again. “While you were at the hospital, did you see any of the staff? Were you approached by anyone offering you an injection of some kind?”
Daniel shook his head, resisting the urge to swallow hard. “No. Just the woman and my dad.”
The officers nodded, the first one scribbling a few more lines in his notebook before he looked up with a sympathetic smile.
“Thank you, Mr. Addison. I think that's all we need. Good luck to you and your dad.”
Daniel nodded and closed the door. Shut his eyes and leaned against it, trying to will the image of that little girl out of his head.
“Help! They're all over me! Get them off! Get them off!”
With a sigh, Daniel opened his eyes and went to calm his father.
###
About the Author
Alex Westhaven is a pseudonym of Jamie DeBree, an author from Billings, Montana. She resides there with her husband and two over-sized lap dogs. Halloween is her favorite holiday, and she has more than her fair share of skeletons (and other body parts) in the closet. For information on upcoming books, visit AlexWesthaven.com or BrazenSnakeBooks.com.
Other Books by the Author
Angel Eyes
No Hazard Pay
When She Cries
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Death by Veggies Series
Lettuce Prey
Jack
Sprouted