Tertiary Effects Series | Book 3 | Bite of Frost

by Allen, William

  “Stick around, Bryan. The show’s just starting. Your financial collapse theory is already taking place, and who knows how you get zombies.” Judith’s answering grin told me she had my number, all right.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll let somebody else get my dose of any experimental flu vaccines that have been fast-tracked through FDA approval,” I replied with a wink, and then we made our farewells.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  We checked in at the hospital only a few minutes late, but given the perils on the road, no one in the administration made any comment. After seeing Marta and Dorothy off to their duties, Wade went back to sit with the trucks until Sally and I could do our own walk-through of the hospital corridors. Another one of the volunteers stood watch over the parking lot, but none of us knew the guy sitting in the little pre-fab guard hut, and we agreed that guarding our rides took a high priority. The three of us would rotate off that guard duty as the day wore on, or we found a better option.

  While doing our walk-around, we ran into three of the four Jasper County deputies on duty. Sally and I knew all three, and we exchanged pleasantries as we passed each other. We learned the fourth deputy, a senior patrolman named Willis, was working a shift in the security room along with Corporal Cansler. In addition to the four Jasper County deputies and the four National Guardsmen assigned to the hospital, we also had five of the escorts, or civilian volunteers, working today. That included the lot guard outside shivering in his unheated shack. Counting the three of us, that made a total of sixteen on paper working security, but I could immediately tell something was off. From her expression, I could see Sally felt the same way.

  Early on when he was fortifying the hospital, Sheriff Stringer had designated three key security sites: the security room with all the video feeds, the pharmacy where the bulk of the medical supplies were stored until use, and the Emergency Room staff lounge. The first two stood out as obvious locations, while the third site was selected due to the proximity to the ER side of the building, where most of the medical staff and patients were now grouped. In the event of an attack, the doctors and nurses would retreat into the staff lounge, which also fronted a locker room, shower facility and restrooms for the doctors and other medical staff, as well as three closets repurposed as bunk rooms. Situated at the back of the lounge, across from the access hallway leading to the split shower rooms, stood a sturdy fire door exit with the whole pushbar and emergency lights setup.

  Even though the pharmacy had been the target for all the bandits in the past, security escorts always focused on protecting the ER and the lounge. That just made sense. They were there to protect the staff members, not the drugs or the security cameras.

  “Let’s see if Brandon is here,” Sally suggested after we’d spent a good half hour roaming the hospital.

  In addition to the open units, Sally insisted we check on the closed wards as well. One hallway provided the four Guardsmen with their own private rooms, but we didn’t dawdle and just made sure they weren’t hiding a platoon of raiders under their beds. Sally thought I was joking until she saw I wasn’t laughing.

  “You really don’t trust them?”

  “Not an inch,” I replied, which prompted Sally’s comment about Brandon Foraker. Brandon’s wife, Sandra, was one of the few remaining emergency medicine doctors who still showed up for work regularly. Brandon, like Sally, had done a hitch in the Air Force, but his time had been as an officer after attending the Academy. Like most Air Force officers, Brandon hadn’t been a pilot, but he had spent eight years in as a maintenance officer, most of it stationed at Andrews Air Force Base before doing a similar stint at Bagram Air Base in Afghanistan. He was now in his late thirties and had the lean, fit look of a distance runner.

  He was the official liaison between the volunteers who helped guard the hospital and the sheriff’s department. Since the cafeteria no longer functioned as anything other than a large break room, the escorts took that area over as their own, so that’s where Sally and I headed next.

  We found Brandon Foraker holding down one of the folding tables erected in a corner of the cafeteria, engaged in an intense, whispered conversation with one of the other volunteers. I seemed to recall the guy’s first name was Larry, but I couldn’t recall his last name. His wife was one of the pediatric nurses now working out of the emergency room, but she worked mainly with the sole remaining pediatrician still covering shifts, an older doctor named Martinez. He reminded me of a sweet old grandpa, and he had a soothing bedside manner that really worked on the little ones.

  “What’s up, Major?” Sally asked, feeling perfectly fine interrupting the increasingly heated exchange. Maybe Sally thought she could play mediator, but when both men turned with angry expressions in her direction, my friend didn’t back down an inch.

  Larry was the first to speak, and whatever verbal missile he was prepared to launch died on his lips as he regarded us with a pleased look.

  “Sally, Bryan, thank God you guys are here,” Larry nearly exclaimed in his excited state. “Can you please talk some sense into this dunderhead? We’ve just got word of a supply convoy coming in, and that means we need to get more deputies sent over to help us protect the shipment.”

  “Whoa,” Sally held up a hand. “I thought we got our weekly shipment already on Tuesday?”

  “We did,” I replied before Brandon could add his own comment. This was Friday. “Pat and Wade worked that one. And they did have extra bodies on hand to oversee the transfer. Why are they coming early, and where is Sheriff Stringer?”

  The worry was justified. The supply convoy wasn’t just for this hospital, but for a chain of half a dozen regional health centers being serviced, for now, by supplies withdrawn from the Strategic National Stockpile, and escorted by a company of National Guard soldiers in uparmored HumVees and MRAPs. The very existence of the SNS had been a topic of conspiracy theorists for years, and their location was still cloaked in an air of secrecy even as the Federal Government doled out pallets of supplies to the various states affected by the state of emergency.

  “The Sheriff and a large chunk of his deputies are tied up with a riot over at the high school,” Brandon explained with a weary tone. “Somebody smuggled in some weapons to a group of anti-government protestors, and they now have themselves a hostage situation.”

  With mention of the riot at the high school, where the county and state continued to warehouse displaced citizens in Jasper County just like was being done over in Albany County, I heard the alarm bells going off in my head. This was too close to what happened the day the highwaymen were hitting trucks over outside New Albany. They were the distraction.

  When I looked at Sally, I could tell she was thinking the same thing. The raid we all feared would be going down today, and soon.

  “Guys,” I started, trying to maintain my cool. “I’ve seen a couple of new faces today. What’s up with that?”

  “Oh, that’s Kit and Phil,” Brandon replied, happy to shift topics if only for the moment. “Their wives are working in housekeeping, such as we have, and they started coming in with them.”

  “They must be new,” I mused, trying not to jump to conclusions in my paranoia.

  “Yes, just started last Friday,” Larry confirmed. “When Phyllis quit after Andrea and her husband were ambushed last week, they had their applications already in place. They both worked together at one of the big medical centers in Houston before being evacuated. They were glad to get out of the gym…”

  “Yeah,” Sally murmured, and I could see we were thinking along the same lines. That was really convenient, stepping into place just that easily. But I was paranoid, and it might have simply happened that way.

  “Which one is watching the lot? Kit or Phil?”

  “Oh, that’s Phil. He volunteered for it.”

  “And where’s Kit?”

  “I think he was working in with PFC Reisinger out back. If there’s a supply convoy coming, the corporal wanted to get eyes on the approac
h, in case we get hit with raiders when the convoy is stopped.”

  “What does Willis say about all this?”

  Brandon looked away, and I got the feeling he was starting to put the pieces together.

  “I haven’t talked to him in the last hour. Not since we started shift, in fact. Every time I call on the radio, I get the corporal.”

  I sighed, then looked over at Sally. She nodded, then reached into her jacket and withdrew small packet holding our tactical radio sets. We’d refrained from showing them before, even though Pat insisted they were legal, just mainly used by military or police forces. Though the range was short, they were encrypted and shouldn’t even show up on most radio scanners. In a fight, the little radios would give us hands-free communications, and allow us to coordinate action without having to split our attention.

  While Sally attached the small, lightweight case to her belt, I helped her thread the thin cords up through her jacket and attached the throat mike. It was an oddly intimate gesture, especially when Sally returned the assistance for me. I felt the eyes of Brandon and Larry on me, but I ignored their curiosity as I slid the earpiece in, which fit like a Bluetooth device, and we did a quick function check to confirm the radios were working.

  “I’ll go get Wade,” I volunteered, still ignoring the other two men. It was rude, but until they proved themselves, I wasn’t going to waste the time or the breath. “Why don’t you have a conversation with our friends here and see about rounding up the other deputies.”

  “What are you talking about?” Brandon asked.

  “We’re about to get hit,” I announced simply, deciding I was being a dick and resolving to act in a more mature fashion. “That supposed supply convoy, if it shows up, is probably the way the raiders intend to breach our perimeter. But like I said, Sally can explain. I need to go get Wade. We’ll post up in the ER for the time being. Stay off the regular radios for now.”

  Turning on my heel, I headed for the door.

  “Wait! What about Patrolman Willis? Wouldn’t he be in contact with the convoy? He should have the authentication codes.”

  Larry’s words told me the man wasn’t picking up what the rest of us were talking about. I hoped he could shoot straight, at least.

  I didn’t turn around. I didn’t want to have to tell them that Willis was probably already dead. We’d see after the shooting stopped. I couldn’t do anything for the man, not if he was locked in the security room with Corporal Cansler, but there were plenty of other people who might be counting on me.

  Thinking about others counting on me, I reached back and pulled out my cell phone. To my surprise, I found I had a signal here, and hit Wade on speed dial. Like me, I knew he kept his phone set on vibrate, so I gave him a few rings before I started to panic. I stepped into an exam room and scanned quickly, finding myself alone. Then the phone clicked as someone picked up.

  “Wade, you got me on speaker?”

  “No. What’s up?”

  “You and Phil getting cozy?”

  “Naw, he isn’t much of a talker. Seems focused on his business here. He’s making a loop around the parking lot right now.”

  “Check and make sure he isn’t standing right behind you.”

  I heard a muffled scrape and then Wade was back on the phone. I could tell I had his curiosity pricked with my questions.

  “Nope. I can see him out by the road, looking through a pair of binoculars.”

  I sighed, wondering if I was right.

  “Yeah, probably looking for the rest of his gang to show up,” I said softly, aware I was standing by the door with my phone in one hand and my Sig in the other.

  “You think?”

  “There’s a riot over at the high school, I’ve gotten word of another supposed supply convoy on the way, and two new volunteers showed up this week. Oh, and Corporal Cansler is ensconced in the security room with the senior deputy on duty, and he isn’t answering the radio.”

  “That’s not good, Bry.”

  “I know. Look, grab the extra gear bag out from behind the seat in my truck. Then come on back inside. Meet me in the ER. I need to pass the word around.”

  “What if Phil says something?”

  “Tell him you’ve got to go to the can.”

  “And the other gear bag?”

  “You really have to go, and that’s got your extra roll of TP.”

  I heard Wade laugh, and I started to disconnect the call, but thought of something else.

  “Hey, I forgot to ask. Are the two NG guys still on gate duty?”

  When we came in, I recalled seeing the two younger National Guardsmen under Cansler, Williams and Ridgeway, manning the only open gate for front access to the hospital.

  “Yeah, they have it until noon.”

  With the need to keep the hospital guarded and the National Guard presence reduced to four men, Sheriff Stringer had to keep twelve regular and reserve deputies tied up guarding the premises. They were home now, and I was hoping to reach the Sheriff with my next call to summon them out of their beds and back in to help bolster our defenses here. I had another call to make first, though.

  After I closed the call, I hit the speed dial for Mike’s cell. Call failed. I tried again, with the same result. I switched over to text, and sent my brother a warning of an impending assault on the hospital. I hated doing it, but if I didn’t, and the worst happened, Mike would never forgive me.

  The plan was to lock down the place, including driving a tractor to block the intersection as a temporary barrier. Mike might get that done, but I knew my brother too well. If I thought Marta’s life was in danger, he would be coming with reinforcements.

  When I reached Sheriff Stringer, I got his voicemail. I left a quick message, detailing my concerns, and disconnected. That was all I could do for now. I was on the clock, and I didn’t know when the buzzer would sound.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  I met Wade just as he came through the doorway, taking the long, heavy bag from my friend as he came inside out of the cold. I had been talking with Pete Standly, the head of maintenance for the hospital. When I saw Wade entering through the double sliding glass doors, I wrapped up my conversation with the older man and headed for my neighbor.

  The lobby of the emergency room was busy as was usually the case, with half a dozen walk-in patients and their families waiting in chairs lining the wall across from the entryway. In normal times, many of these patients would have been seen by their primary care physicians in their offices, or at someplace like the now-shuttered Urgent Care Clinic adjacent to my old office, but now they had to wait for someone to see them here.

  If the main lobby of the hospital was still being used, then some of them would have found their way in over there, but with everything concentrated into the ER entrance, I’d seen the patients piling up in this impromptu waiting room carved out of the front quarter of the Emergency Room. Inefficient? Definitely, but it was the best compromise under the circumstances as the hospital lacked the resources to fully staff the rest of the facility. Defending the doctors, nurses and patients scattered throughout the building wasn’t going to work.

  Aware that the ER was covered with video cameras, all monitored from the security room, I had to be somewhat circumspect as I clued in the other three deputies about my concerns. Deputy Aranda didn’t take much convincing, as he was already suspicious of the dregs of the National Guard left behind to watch over the hospital, while Deputy Paulson and Deputy Hamlin remained dubious. Hell, with Gil Aranda, I had to talk him down from trying to blow the door to the security room, once he realized Willis was likely being held hostage or dead. I really wished my old friend with the Jasper County Sheriff’s Department was here, but like most of the other deputies, Sergeant Keith Millwood was over at the high school.

  Now I had the rudiments of a plan to deal with the eyes in the ceilings once any fighting started, but in the meantime, we all needed to go about our business as usual.

  “Phil say anythin
g?”

  “Not a peep after I told him why I had to come inside. I think he was worried I might lose bowel control right there in his shack,” Wade confided with a chuckle. He then looked around, taking in the dozen or so walk-ins already waiting to be seen by one of the doctors.

  “Are you sure about this? Once I hook that thing up, bad things are going to happen, and you don’t get to take it back,” Wade whispered, hefting the bag in his hand.

  “It’s all on me, Wade. I’ll take the heat, and I’ll sing for the DA if I’m wrong, but I can’t take the chance if I’m right. Just set it up like Pat showed you. Please?”

  “Well, heck, since you said please,” Wade teased. “You got it.”

  As Wade took off at a trot, I took another look at the people waiting for treatment here in the ER. Some had obvious reasons for being there. One of them had a makeshift bandage covering bleeding wound on his upper arm or shoulder, and I imagined that was a woodcutting accident, while another was a woman who looked about ten months pregnant and ready to have the baby there in the lobby. Others I couldn’t figure our quite as easily. I did see one face I recognized, and I held up a hand to wave at Wade’s retreating form as I hustled over to speak.

  “Kelli, what the heck are you doing here?” I blurted out, after catching sight of my favorite Tractor Supply checker and former classmate. She was sitting with a man about our age, powerfully built and balding. As I stepped closer, I saw he had one of his hands wrapped in a gauze bandage.

  “Dan,” She replied simply, hooking a thumb over her shoulder. “The man is a licensed electrician with every kind of certification you can imagine, and he is as clumsy in the kitchen as a hog on ice. Sliced his hand cutting a bagel this morning. Dan, this is Bryan Hardin, an old classmate of mine.”