by D A Carey
Arks of America: Charit Creek
by D.A. Carey
Copyright © D.A. Carey 2019. All Rights Reserved.
Cover art by Deranged Doctor Designs
Editing by Felicia Sullivan
Formatting by Kody Boye
Proofreading by Jessica Meigs
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronically, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the proper written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events and situation are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental
Contents
Laid Low
Rebirth and Recovery
Persistence
Revitalizing
Life is Good
Disruption
Prescience
Aftershock
Pulling Through
Lay the Course
Character Revealed
Civilization Shudders
Morality Matters
One Step at a Time
Connivance
Trust is Earned
Heading Out
Power Corrupts
Treachery
Choices Define Us
Reports of My Demise
Dwellings
Reaching Out
For Naught
About the Author
I want thank each one of you for your time and interest in this story. My hope is that we can find common ground on a vision of what could be and you’ll feel entertained and see it in your mind as I do. I’ve always felt a kindred spirit to those people with an interest in these types of stories and situations. I love telling stories and the interaction with you all who like the topics. These characters and places are so alive and close to me that I’m excited to share with you.
For my family, friends, and workmates, I thank you so much for the times you have sat around a campfire, dinner table, or workplace and listened to me spin a yarn. Your patience and positive support is why this story came into being.
Special thanks to Felicia A. Sullivan, who I trust more than anyone else to help guide and shape my story into something better than it was. She is the difference between a great story in my mind and one on paper. Any mistakes or rough patches are all mine.
Steven C. Bird and Chris Pike who are both great authors and people I look up to, who were kind enough to offer feedback and support at different points in the process and it meant more to me than they probably know. Since book 1 came out I’ve been fortunate to get to know some of the other authors I’ve always enjoyed, Lisa Akers, Boyd Craven, Franklin Horton, Annie Berdel and A. American, their friendship and feedback has meant a great deal to me and I think is unique to this genre. We are definitely a community of like-minded people. As a reader if you sometimes feel alone, know that we are all here.
Laid Low
“It's hard to beat a person who never gives up.”
- Babe Ruth
<< Vince >>
Vince slowly regained consciousness.
The ceiling was the typical white drop ceiling with the tiny holes to add texture with interspersed fluorescent lights. One of the fluorescent lights was covered with a plastic panel painted with the appearance of clouds in a blue sky. The IV bag on the metal pole was pumping fluids and pain medication into his veins that kept him drowsy and made him want to sleep. The window to his right had a view of the streets below and the sky above, if he was positioned to see much. Vince sighed. Hospital room windows were designed more for visitors than patients. It was virtually impossible to see anything other than a snippet of clouds while lying on your back at an oblique angle to the window. Even though the TV was on, the drugs made it hard to concentrate on the programming. He had a private room thanks to some pull from friends and probably his uncle.
Peering to his left, Vince saw a gorgeous, auburn-haired movie star. He was a private person and didn’t like to impose on others. It grated on him to admit he needed help. Yet it was a pleasure to see her there waiting for him to wake. At the same time, he felt guilty that she had taken so much time away from her work on the West Coast and the children in another hospital she came to Kentucky to visit.
“Liz,” he croaked, his voice dry from the drugs and tubes that had recently been removed from his throat. “You don’t need to be here. You have so many more people who need your time than I do.”
“I owe you a lot,” Liz said sincerely. “Besides, I thought we were friends? Friends are there for each other. You only recently came through a huge surgery. Why wouldn’t I be here?”
Vince smiled, taking a moment to admire her beauty. Liz was tall with an athletic physique that still showed all the womanly curves. She had auburn hair, eyes that hovered between green and gray-blue, and despite some of the terrible things she’d seen last year, they still twinkled when she smiled. “We are friends,” he replied. “Or I like to think we are. But you’re the famous movie star and have all the friends you could want. I would think you have movies to make, meetings to attend, public appearances and all that.”
“I do, but right now your health is more important,” Liz said. “I wanted to check on you, and I like to make visits at the children’s hospital here in town, so it was an opportunity to do both and visit my family as well.”
“I’m sorry. I guess I was rude. Thank you for coming.”
“Yes it was rude,” Liz said, and Vince couldn’t tell how serious she was. “I’m not so shallow that I can’t have friends I care about. Don’t think so little of yourself or other people might do the same.”
Vince nodded, intending to apologize, but he must have dozed off. When he awoke, the light coming in from the window was darker with a dark orange tint to it as the sun set. Liz was sitting in the chair just as she’d been when he dozed off. “You’re still here.” He wasn’t used to this sort of closeness. It was comforting in a way he wasn’t used to or didn’t know he missed until he experienced it.
“Yes. Your mother has been, too. She left a moment ago to get something to eat. Your friend Morgan was here, and so was someone named Luke. He said he works with you and lives near you.”
“Thank you,” Vince said, though the words felt too short for what he was trying to express. The expression in Liz’s eyes showed she understood. Liz was gorgeous in every sense of the word. He’d once told her she was more beautiful on the inside and most people didn’t get to see that side of her. He felt himself staring at her with a smile on his face and didn’t know how long he’d been doing that, so he diverted his gaze out the window and saw the contrail of an airplane overhead cut across the orange-tinted sky. “I can’t get used to things being back to normal so soon. It doesn’t make sense. It feels like a pregnant pause in a conversation or an elephant in the room. How can everyone walk around and pretend like our society didn’t take a huge hiccup a few months back?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth. I like normal and all the comforts of home. What we lived through terrified me.”
“You did well. Better than you know. You should be proud of yourself.”
“Are you proud of me, Vince?” Liz’s face had a childlike openness, like she craved his approval.
“Yes, you were incredible. I have to admit I had a chip on my shoulder about you Hollywood folks, and you totally changed my mind.”
“It means a lot that you’re proud of me.”
“You deserve it.”
&n
bsp; “Vince, can I ask you about your cancer when you feel like talking? We didn’t get to talk much before you went into surgery. I was in California, and I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me when we were on the road or in Carrollton? I would have kept your secret.”
“Honestly, Liz, I didn’t know. I’m not saying I would have told you. I have to keep my mind focused like when I’m on a mission, and if anything, cancer is a bigger distraction than a Hollywood starlet. It doesn’t matter, though. I didn’t know I had it until recently.”
“The doctor said the tumor was huge, over twelve centimeters. How could you not know?”
“I don’t know. I had pains in my side and some terrible cramps when I twisted too hard in certain directions. I didn’t want to let it distract me. I had more important things to do. Frankly, I thought it was a hernia tear. That’s what I told my doctor when things settled down and I went to see her.”
“The doctor said it was stage three and covered your kidney and up the renal vein close to your heart. You’re lucky they could remove it all.”
“I’m lucky that the national catastrophe wasn’t the big one. If things hadn’t got better, I doubt I would have gotten a CT scan. Cancer could have killed me like it did so many people in the old days.”
“That gives me chills to think about. You need to get back to full strength.”
Vince had the dark blond hair and the piercing blue eyes that barely concealed a haunted look of things that couldn’t be unseen and the broad shoulders of a warrior. However, now his color was paler, he’d lost weight, and the stubble on his face that looked rugged and manly on the road fighting bad guys looked more ragged and disheveled in a hospital bed.
“I’ll try. Honestly, Liz, this has shaken some of my self-confidence. I don’t think I’d admit that to anyone besides Levi and Morgan, and now you. I guess you and I just click.”
“I know you’ll beat this.”
“I’ll work at it. I lost thirty pounds this week with the surgery. I don’t know how long it will take me to walk normally again. Fort-seven staples on the outside and God knows how many on the inside.”
“You’ll get there.”
“Possibly, but will I be able to fight or will I get weaker more often? Or what if things go bad and I have to walk a long way? All that stuff worries me.”
“My grandma Jean would say strong people rise to the top, and I know you will.”
“Thanks, Liz. I guess it’s good things got better. They say this cancer has a high risk of coming back. They want me to get CT scans every three months for three years. Imagine trying to do that the way things were back in Chicago.”
“I can’t even imagine Chicago without a shudder at the memories.”
<
The friendship between Kate and Liz had evolved after the events last year. More and more Kate was beginning to view Liz like an older cousin. The friendship was easy and relaxed. Kate didn’t pester Liz with questions about Hollywood because Liz spoke freely around Kate without concern that Kate would betray her confidence.
They were in Vince’s hospital room, speaking quietly while he slept. “I’m so proud of you and how you handled all of this, Kate. I would have been a basket case if it was my dad.” Liz leaned in to touch her knee.
“I guess. My dad was always larger than life to me. I guess a lot of dads are to their kids. I always thought something was different or more special about my dad, though.”
“That’s true. There is something different about him.” Liz glanced at Vince. His face was white, his forehead beaded with sweat. Machines hooked up to him were pumping in drugs.
“He always teased me growing up. He would say if you act like you’re somebody special and like you belong, people will believe you. More importantly, you’ll believe it yourself.”
Kate was a beautiful girl, close to five feet tall, trim and cute, with strawberry blonde hair and her father’s piercing blue eyes. She was what some would call more of a “Maryanne” than a “Ginger,” despite the red tints in her hair. She was full of energy and focus and incredibly smart. Older people saw things in Kate and would say she was an “old soul,” much as they did for Liz.
“Dad told me a little bit about his military experiences and other risky things he’s done, but he’d always say, ‘Hey squirrel, I’m hard to kill,’ so I wouldn’t worry. I know it was silly, just like him calling me squirrel was silly. It’s just something he and I did.”
“Why did he call you squirrel?”
“I don’t know. Teasing me, I guess. He teases more when he’s happy. When I was young, he would call me squirrely girl ‘cause it was silly and rhymed.”
Liz smiled. “It’s cute.”
“I suppose. It was our thing. Through it all, I really did think he was larger than life and could do anything, and I did believe he was hard to kill. When we were in Chicago, I knew without a doubt he would show up and save us, and he did. It confirmed all I grew up believing and cemented those feelings even deeper.”
“I get that. He was wonderful.”
“Then he saved the girl near Madison, Indiana, and it proved what I knew all along. My dad’s a hero.”
“Yes.”
“When he was fighting with Malik on the boats, I lost faith for a minute, I have to admit. I thought he’d die, but he didn’t. I resolved then and there not to lose faith again. He’s my dad, and while my mind says he will die someday, it’s very hard for me to believe it.”
“Now that I know him, I totally understand.” Liz tittered softly, trying not to wake Vince.
“When he told us he had cancer and his doctors were tiptoeing around the issue of death and mortality statistics, I never could actually believe he would die. Even though I went home and cried, I never believed he could die.”
“I never saw you cry.”
“I try to be strong. I don’t want anyone to see me cry.”
“Being strong means being able to cry and not be ashamed. You shouldn’t hide it. I guess you’re a lot like your dad.”
Kate burst out laughing so hard she worried she might wake her dad. “I hope I’m like him, but we aren’t alike that way. He is a big baby and cries at a lot of stuff!”
“No way! The big mean warrior that kills people and smashes their heads and saves the world? He cries a lot? I don’t believe it.”
“Seriously, Liz, you should see him. He cries at movies and even some commercials, and it’s the craziest stuff that makes him cry. I’ve seen him cry at that old movie The Cutting Edge more than once. I love teasing him when he cries at Paul Blart, Mall Cop.”
“He cries at Paul Blart? That’s a comedy. There is nothing sad there. He’s nuts,” Liz said, tittering quietly.
“It’s true. He says it’s because underneath it all there is a lovable loser who purely loves his daughter. His daughter and mother love him deeply and bring him lunch or make him dinner. Life is confusing and hard for Paul Blart, yet through it all, the constant is the love between him and his daughter. Those examples make my dad cry.”
“Hey, don’t be telling all my secrets,” Vince said over a scratchy throat, having just woken. “There is a hidden tragedy in Paul Blart, Liz. You more than anyone should know that comedy and tragedy are two sides of the same coin. Paul Blart is a loser and has only ever been a hero in his own mind. He met a woman and gave her his heart, and she left him and their kid when she got her green card. Paul’s mother wants the best for her son and knows he wants more out of life, but they are both out of ideas, so she does the only things she knows, and that is to feed him and love him. It’s sad. Then there is his daughter who is extremely smart and loves her dad unconditionally. She will never be a supermodel, and Paul is unaware of that, and it doesn’t matter. He will never be successful by our standards, and she is smart enough to know that too, yet it doesn’t matter either. She isn’t let down and doesn’t care. She loves him unconditionally. It’s a tragedy about people who love each other for what they are, flaws and all, desp
ite the negative labels the rest of the world puts on them. Of course, in true Hollywood style, in the end he does get to become a hero, and he does get the girl and is successful. It’s like they flipped the script. In the end, he got to be the hero he always wanted to be and the man his daughter always knew him to be and the whole world saw it.”
“Vince Cavanaugh, you truly do see the world differently than other people,” Liz said admiringly.
“That’s why people think he’s so mean,” Kate piped up.
“What do you mean?” Liz asked, confused by the comment after all Kate had just told her.
“Kate, that’s enough. You don’t have to tell everything, you know,” Vince said.
“Some people he loves so much he can’t open up and tell them how he feels because he can’t show weakness, but he’d walk on broken glass to help them. Some people he may have to hurt for hurting people he cares about, so he is mean around them because he is angry at what they may make him do. Some people he hasn’t decided to love or keep at arm’s length yet, so he is gruff.”
“So where do I fit in?” Liz asked playfully.
“I’m tired and need my sleep,” Vince said, turning away and avoiding the question.
“He likes you!” Kate mouthed to Liz with a mischievous mien.
Liz couldn’t have described why it warmed her heart and made her feel happy that this gruff old soldier liked her.
<
When Liz left Vince’s room, the hospital administrators were waiting on her. They must have been waiting there for quite a while to catch her exactly as she left. They were pleasant and obsequious. The children’s hospital visit had gone great, and that was where all the press coverage was. This was a private visit, and other than some stares from a few patients or workers about what all the hubbub was about, Liz felt good about her success in flying under the radar.
