by Penn Gates
“I don’t know much about the Middle Ages except the Crusades, but I do know the Middle East. Which part of it do you mean?”
“The part where women are chattel. Her brothers gave her to that monster.”
Holden whistles. “That’s Taliban shit all right.”
“It’s unspeakable.”
“What about George? How’s he dealin’?”
“His opinion bears a striking resemblance to that of Janet’s brothers - women are property - and as with cars, new is always better than used.”
“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think? The guy’s still in shock himself.”
Lisa isn’t ready to cut George any slack. “I’ve never understood why so many men blame the victim instead of the rapist.”
Holden decides to keep his mouth shut. He’s never been any good at putting abstract ideas into words that bear much resemblance to what he’s actually thinking. But apparently, Lisa isn’t finished with the subject.
“During one of your man-to-man conversations with young George, did he tell you what he thinks of Janet now? I quote: She is not pure. She was with child - his child.”
She stands and begins pacing. “That is one deranged moral code in my book!”
Holden frowns.“Look, Janet’s a very attractive girl. George is still just a kid - and green as apples. George could just be a little confused and blame her good looks for causing what happened to her.”
“Like I said - blaming the victim!” Lisa explodes.
“Damn it! ” Holden doesn’t bother to hide his irritation this time. “You can’t judge George as if he grew up in your world. His was a lot less complicated - and it promised him all the answers as long as he follows the rules.”
“You’re right,” Lisa admits grudgingly. “He does come from a different world - but he should still be able to tell when he’s hurting someone.”
“Come on! We all hurt people without meaning to,”Holden counters. “That’s just a fact of life - no exceptions.” He shifts his weight trying to find a more comfortable position.
“I can get up now and move around, right?” he asks, deciding a change of subject is called for.
“Tomorrow,” she says. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“I’m gettin’ bed sores,” he complains.
“Would you like me to take a look?” Lisa asks reluctantly.
“That would be a negative,” he says quickly.
“We need to find something for you to lean on at first,” Lisa says, looking for something else to think about. “You’ve got to keep your weight off the wound ’til it’s completely healed.” She smiles as she has the thought. “It might be awhile before you can get back on the road.”
“Only if I planned on walking.”
But Lisa is already out the door. She puts the issue of Pittsburgh and the end of her quest for answers out of her mind when she spots Marcelli.
“Tony - just the man I want to see. I’ve got a job for you.”
“What do you need, doc?” he asks, jumping to his feet.
It isn’t until he does, that Lisa notices that Janet is seated on the couch, too. “Oh - I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
The girl’s hands are moving in her lap, and Lisa bends to take a closer look at what she’s doing. The sewing needle flicks in and out of the camo fabric with a machinelike precision. Lisa recognizes Holden’s ruined pants, looking almost good as new.
“That’s astonishing needlework, Janet. I would never have believed that large a hole could be mended.”
“You are the one with the amazing sewing skills, Frau Doktor. You have repaired something much more difficult.”
“Well - between the two of us,” Lisa says, “I think we’ve managed to put Corporal Holden back together again.”
Lisa becomes aware of Marcelli, waiting patiently for her orders to be made known.
“Sorry—” Lisa says. “I don’t want Holden out of bed until we come up with a cane or something. Do you think you could research that particular problem and find a solution?”
“Yes, ma’am! Absolutely!” he replies eagerly.
LISA RESTS HER ELBOWS on the desk top calendar - November of last year. The first few squares have hastily scribbled notes for appointments - and then nothing. She moves her finger along the blank squares and pauses. Was this date the last time she spoke with Roger? Which square was the day Holden pulled her out of the ER into an alternative universe? She has no idea.
A noise jolts her back to the present. Her pulse quickens as she looks up to see Holden wrapping his knuckles on the open door at the same time he sticks his head into the office.
She falls back on her medical authority to push down feelings she has no idea how to handle. “Why are you out of bed?” she asks. “You shouldn’t be putting weight on that leg.”
“Give it a rest, doc - it’s cool.” He hobbles into the office on crutches so old they’re made of wood. “You like my cripple sticks?” he asks with a smirk.
“They’re about as old as that expression.” She smiles in spite of herself. “Where did you find them?”
“Marcelli spotted them in the lost and found.” Holden drops into a chair in front of the desk and leans his antique crutches against the file cabinet near him. “Better,” he sighs, letting his guard down for a second.
“Was there something you wanted to talk about?” Lisa asks into the silence.
“I had a talk with George this morning.”
Lisa’s smile fades. “That’s nice,” Lisa says, “But I’m really not interested in anything he has to say.”
“You might be surprised,” Holden says, feeling a little giddy about the news he has to share. “George-porgy told me a story - quite a long one.” He points a finger at her as she opens her mouth. “And you’re gonna want to listen, ‘cause it’s one I think you will find very interesting.”
Lisa leans her chin in her hand. “By all means - tell me your tale,” she says ironically.
He folds his hands over his stomach like a benevolent uncle. “Once upon a time, there was a land where sorcerers created a charm that allowed the king’s subjects to live until they were very old - only they hadn’t planned ahead for how much extra space they’d need. When a sudden plague descended upon the kingdom, all the old people died - including Papa and Mama Shirk.”
Holden pauses for effect. “There were those who accused the sorcerers of casting an evil spell to get rid of the surplus - but that conspiracy theory is another story.”
“Oh, God,” Lisa snaps, “Let’s not go there. Just get on with it.”
He manages to keep a straight face and resumes his account. “The little Shirks were left all alone and decided to journey back to the land of their ancestors - so they bravely set off along the yellow brick road.”
“That had to be a year ago - right?”
“You’re going to make me lose my place in the story,” Holden tells her. “And then you might never find out what happens next.” He pauses for a few seconds, just to tease her, before he continues. “Now where was I? Oh yeah - along the way, the Shirk children came upon an old farmer trying to catch his runaway bull, and they kindly stopped to help him.”
Lisa sits up straight. “Did you say old?”
A grin spreads across his face. “Hold on - it get’s better.”
“The old man got sick,” he says, dropping his act. “Not from Geezer. George said he had a stroke. So the Shirks put aside their plans and did their Christian duty. They stayed on to care for him - and the guy’s large herd of dairy cows.”
Lisa wants to scream at him to come to the point, but that would only delay the punch line.
“So there they were, pulling on udders morning, noon, and night,” he says, “And Old Man St Clair was not gettin’ any better. Then, out of the blue, the old guy’s granddaughter showed up.” Holden can’t help himself. He pauses again for dramatic effect. “Apparently she was a homicide detective in Cleveland - for the last 20 years.�
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Lisa gasps, “That - that would make her at least—”
“—In her early forties.”
She knocks her chair over as she leaps to her feet. “Oh my God, oh my God!” She knows she’s squealing like a teenager, and the urge to rush around the desk and hug Holden is almost overwhelming. She needs to stop before she humiliates herself further. But it’s way too late for that. Holden is all but laughing at her total loss of dignity.
“The Shirks were supposed to hook up with a Mennonite wagon train heading for Lancaster,” he adds. “But they missed it and had to stay on at the St Clair farm.”
“Wait! You can’t mean the same group that Ezra set out with? That’s one coincidence too many.”
“I do mean it.” He stops laughing. “Co-incidence is just God playing a practical joke on us.”
For just a second, Lisa gets a peak inside Holden, and it’s a lot darker than the joker he portrays himself to be.
“So how did George end up in Lancaster?” she asks to fill the sudden silence.
“The St Clair woman is pretty much like you’d expect a cop to be. She follows a different set of rules that don’t include turning the other cheek. She and George butted heads - a lot. Then teenagers from the city came looking for help. Pretty soon, George was surrounded by Englischers -as he calls those of us who aren’t just like him - and felt he was in even more danger of being corrupted.”
“I can see that. The squad can’t stand him because he’s always trying to censor their language.”
“I get the impression that something happened that was way more serious than a little profanity, but he clammed up when I asked questions.” Holden leans forward. “What do you say, doc? How about another road trip? One with an actual destination, for a change.”
“Can we leave today?” she asks hopefully. She may not believe in coincidences, but she’s just been handed a miracle.
“We need to pack up our gear and check out the vehicles,” he answers, always the organizer. “How about bright and early tomorrow?”
“Absolutely!” Lisa agrees enthusiastically. Then her face falls. “That won’t work. You can’t drive until your leg heals.”
“I’m not the only one who can handle The Whale - although I am the best,” he brags. “Don’t worry - it’s covered.”
After Holden limps out of the office, Lisa surrenders to euphoria. She whirls around in circles until she makes herself dizzy.
“Frau Doktor! What is wrong?” Janet gasps from the doorway.
“Nothing, Janet. It’s all good.” Lisa waits for the room to stop spinning before she says any more - and considers how to tell the girl she’ll be going to Ohio after all.
CHAPTER 11: Cabin Fever
When Lisa steps into the lobby she almost falls to her knees from the crushing disappointment. While she was sleeping, it’s been snowing - and not a little - a lot. Beyond the long windows there’s a blizzard howling that’s all but erased the world outside.
“No,” she groans. “Not when I’m so close!”
“Don’t worry, doc,” Baxter says in passing. “These early snows melt quick. We’ll be good to go by tomorrow - or the next day, at worst.”
But after a week of unremitting bad weather, Lisa has given up all hope of making it to Ohio before the new year. Anything can happen in the months before she makes contact with the senior survivor. If she loses this opportunity, she’s not sure she has the strength of will to continue the search - or that Holden would agree, even if she did.
She can’t stand the stuffy, crowded lobby any more. Suddenly the large, open space has become claustrophobic. She stuffs her arms into the sleeves of her coat and heads outside. Wading through deep snow seems like a small price to be alone under the open sky.
“Sorry, doc,” Peterson tells her as she pushes open the carved wooden door. He’s standing in knee high snow. “Nobody goes outside unless they got business.”
“Oh, come on!” Lisa says, pulling her hood up. “I’m going stir crazy.”
“I don’t think you’d get very far,” he says apologetically. “The snow would be up to your—” Words - polite words - seem to fail the private. “Too easy to get lost - or take a tumble on unfamiliar ground.”
These are Holden’s words coming out of Peterson’s mouth, Lisa is certain of it, but she can’t argue with the logic.
“All right,” she says. “You’ve convinced me. Back inside I go.”
But she doesn’t remove her coat. She retreats to the unused banquet room off the lobby. It’s freezing, but it has an outside wall of windows overlooking the lake behind the lodge. Next best thing, she thinks. At least I might catch a glimpse of the horizon.
The noise in the lobby is like distant traffic, just a comforting reminder that other humans exist but are, thankfully, not around to bother her. She gazes out at the winter scene and frowns. Is it a bad sign that the lake seems to have frozen over and vanished under the snow?
“You look like your dog died,” Holden comments, suddenly at her elbow.
“Will you please not sneak up on me like that!” Lisa gasps. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
Holden taps the tiled floor with the tip of one crutch. “Are you kidding me? I couldn’t sneak up on Stevie Wonder with these things. You must have been a million miles away.”
“I was trying to be.”
Holden studies her slumped shoulders as she goes back to gazing out at the falling snow. “Tell me, doc - what’s the cure for cabin fever? It’s an epidemic around here all of a sudden.” He takes a swipe at the window, which is fogging up from their breath.
“Melting snow - I know that’s the only thing that’s going to make me feel better.”
“That’s way above my pay grade. Anything else?”
“More exercise, less crowding,” Lisa says off the top of her head.
“Huh. That sounds easy enough.” Without another word, he turns and clumps back across the expanse of floor.
Lisa stays where she is, gazing out the window in the dank, cold banquet room - even when she hears some sort of commotion going on in the lobby. I don’t care, she thinks. Whatever it is, Holden will handle it.
She tries to find that place a million miles away again, but it’s no use. She walks around the edges of the room, her footsteps sounding gritty from the accumulation of dust on the floor. The walls are lined with folded banquet tables and stacks of chairs, like the ghosts of weddings past hanging around for just one more party.
If it wasn’t for Geezer, Roger and I would probably be married by now, she thinks. A small wedding in a quiet, beautiful place like this would have been lovely. But that had zero chance of happening. His family and mine were busy planning the social event of the year before we’d even set a date. The combined invitation list had topped 500. How is it even possible to know that many people?
She hasn’t seen a group that large since they left Pittsburgh, and she admits to herself that fact doesn’t bother her as much as it should. Of course the lack of people bothers her, she corrects herself hastily. It’s not having to be in the middle of a crowd she doesn’t miss. She’s on a quixotic search that will probably end in failure - but in spite of everything, she’s glad she’s out looking for answers and not hiding in a hole somewhere.
The door is yanked open and a rush of warm air enters before being halted by the frigid atmosphere of the banquet room. “Sorry, doc,” Jones rumbles in a deep baritone. “Didn’t mean to startle you, but we need to get in here and start scrubbing it down - Holden’s orders.”
“What’s going on?” Lisa asks.
“No worries, ma’am. We’re cleaning house is all.”
“Don’t call me ma’am,” Lisa says irritably. “It’s not like I run things around here, is it?” Seeing the expression on his face, she smiles in apology. “So, why clean in here? Seems like a waste of time.”
Out in the lobby, Holden’s voice echos off the rafters, “This place smells like farts and old soc
ks!”
Lisa glances through the still open door. Small groups are heading in different directions with a sense of purpose.
Jones’ booming voice, amplified by the emptiness, rolls through the banquet room like distant cannon fire.“We’re draggin’ up a wood stove from the maintenance garage and some beds from the guest rooms - should make a pretty good barracks.”
“I guess that means we’re digging in for the winter,” Lisa says to herself. She has enough self awareness to realize that less than a week ago she’d have embraced any reason that kept them from going back to Pittsburgh. But Mother Nature doesn’t give a damn what she wants at any given moment. They’re stuck here now, for who knows how long?
Lisa is surprised that her flippant ‘cure’ for cabin fever actually works. She feels better, even as her muscles ache in protest at the unaccustomed exercise. She’s carried a dozen of the heavy chairs from the banquet room into a corner of the huge kitchen.
“What about the tables?” she asks after she deposits the last chair on top of a stack.
“We’ll just stick ‘em under the window,” Chiznik tells her. “That much glass will radiate cold. We can lean the tables longwise over the windows like shutters during the night.”
Lisa is distracted as she watches Holden navigate across the floor on his antique crutches. Too much, she thinks. He needs to get off that leg.
Chiznik follows her gaze and shakes his head. “Don’t waste your breath. He won’t quit ’til he falls flat on his face.”
CHAPTER 12: Found And Lost
Almost overnight, the cruel winter has melted away like the wicked witch of the east. Lisa stares through the mud-streaked windshield of The Whale and hopes that Chiznik notices every time the truck ahead swerves around another deep pothole. It still feels strange to Lisa that she’s not sitting next to Holden while traveling. Directly ahead, the corporal is at the wheel of the vehicle leading their little convoy, and George Shirk is riding with him to give directions now that they’re deep into Ohio.
