Burning Nation

by Trent Reedy

“We shouldn’t have done that, you know, together. In the igloo.”

  “Wasn’t I good enough for you?” She sounded bitter. “Am I not a good kisser?”

  “What? Becca, no. It’s not that. I mean, you were great. Or, it was good. It felt good.” I sighed. What the hell was wrong with me? I couldn’t be telling her how much I enjoyed our mistake. “Becca, I have a girlfriend. Wounded in the upstairs bedroom. JoBell? Remember?”

  “And you feel bad for betraying her?” I wasn’t thinking of a word like “betray,” but I figured it sounded about right. “Did you ever think that maybe I feel bad about it too? She’s my best friend.”

  I guess I hadn’t thought about it that way. I’d only been thinking about how much I screwed up, how I’d betrayed my JoBell. And I loved JoBell. I’d been terrified I was going to lose her.

  But in the dungeon, and all through this war, Becca had helped me remember I was human. She gave me hope that some of my soul might actually survive this. And I’m not gonna lie, kissing her had made me realize that, wrong or right, there was a warm place inside me for her too. I had to admit that I had feelings for the girl, something more than just friendship. I laughed a little.

  “What’s funny?”

  I reached over and squeezed her forearm. “Everything. Well, not you feeling bad about JoBell and all that, and me too, but us. Here we are, in the middle of a war, taking care of a horse you just jumped commando-style over the creek to save my life, and we’re talking about feelings and stuff like we’re back in high school, trying to figure out who we’re going to take to prom.”

  Becca chuckled too. “It is a little nuts, but I’m serious, Danny. We have to work this out.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “You regret what we did?”

  “I …” How could I explain to Becca what I barely understood myself? “If we lived in a different world, I wouldn’t. If I’d never been going out with JoBell. Because you’re great, Becca. I wish you could live a normal life and all, but I’m also glad you’re here, because I swear you’re the only thing keeping me sane right now. So thanks for that.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. You know I’d do anything for you.” I tried not to think of how much “anything” could be. She reached over and squeezed my hand. “Can I just ask, do you feel anything for me? Anything more than just friends?”

  I sighed. “Come on. You know I can’t answer that.”

  “Why not? It’s a simple question.”

  “It is not a simple question. And the answer would be unfair to both you and JoBell.”

  She smiled. “I think I understand. What if we just agree that it didn’t happen? That we never kissed or anything?”

  “I feel like that wouldn’t be fair to you, though,” I said. “I don’t want you to think I was just using you. That it didn’t mean anything.”

  “But it also can’t mean anything, can it?” said Becca. “We can’t hurt JoBell.”

  “I love her,” I said.

  “So do I.”

  “You and me can remember that it happened,” I said. “It can’t happen again, but we can remember it as a good thing between the two of us.”

  “But nobody else will ever know,” Becca said.

  Nobody but Sweeney, and I knew I could trust him. “Right,” I said.

  She nodded. “But can we at least go back to being friends? Can we stop acting like I’m the principal, and you’re the kid who just got caught cutting class?”

  I slapped her shoulder and laughed quietly. “You got it.”

  * * *

  After chores, I washed up using water heated on the stove and then went upstairs to see JoBell, stopping outside the open door to the bedroom.

  “Probably … twelve,” Sweeney said. “No, wait. Thirteen … Fourteen. But are you counting girls I’ve just made out with? Because then it’s gonna be like, well … Are you also counting girls I’ve only kissed? ’Cause that’d be like —”

  “Eric.” JoBell coughed. Her voice shook. “Don’t you feel bad at all? You can’t even remember how many girls you’ve been with. You could never give me all their names.”

  “Not all of them told me their names.”

  Becca stepped up close behind me. “I can’t believe him sometimes,” she whispered.

  “I think they’re trying to have a private conversation,” I whispered back.

  “Do guys really want that?” Becca asked. “To get with as many girls as they can?”

  “No, not all guys. I’m not even sure Sweeney wants that anymore.” I inched away from Becca, feeling awkward in all kinds of ways. “For a lot of guys, it’s about love. They’re just trying to find that one perfect girl, you know?”

  Becca sighed. “I wish I could find a guy like that.”

  “You will,” I said. “I have no doubt in my mind.”

  She smiled sadly.

  “And hey,” Sweeney continued inside the room. His voice had changed, getting more serious. “I know the two of us are always arguing, and you don’t take me very seriously. Maybe that’s because I haven’t taken much of anything seriously in my whole life. I never needed to. But when you got shot, I was so scared. I thought we were going to lose you. I couldn’t handle that, JoJo.”

  I knocked on the door, and Becca and I went in. “Hey, JoBell, how you feeling?” I said.

  JoBell put on a smile and offered a thumbs-up. “Good, I guess.”

  Sweeney looked at me like No, she’s not, and I noticed the sheen of sweat on her forehead and above her upper lip. Becca kept on her own smile and went around to the other side of the bed. “I’m just going to check that bandage. No big deal. Lie real still now.” She pulled the bandage back a little and looked at JoBell’s wound. “Healing up,” she said cheerily. But I could see the worry in her eyes.

  “I don’t feel so good,” JoBell said. “Dizzy.”

  “Oh, no problem,” Becca said. “Danny and I will get you something to make you feel better.”

  JoBell smiled and squeezed Becca’s hand.

  Guilt twisted inside me as I watched the two of them together, but Becca pulled me away from those thoughts and the room. Sweeney joined us in the hallway. “Something’s wrong with her,” he said.

  Becca closed the bedroom door and brought the two of us closer to her. “She’s faking like she’s better than she is,” she whispered. “I think she’s really sick. Like you said Danning was.”

  “What are you talking about?” I whispered back. “She’s fine. She’s talking and joking. She’s not close to as bad as Will was. We’re keeping the wound clean.”

  Sweeney looked at the bedroom door. “I don’t know, dude. Danning seemed pretty much okay for a while there close to the end too.”

  Becca looked at me hard. “She’s running a fever, and that wound is all purple and black.”

  “What can we do about it? I can’t get her down to the hospital in Coeur d’Alene. And even if I did, we’d all end up arrested.” I pressed my hands to my face. Was that my choice now? The only way she could live was by getting medical treatment in Fed prison? “She’s going to be fine.”

  “The wound is infected, Danny. I’ve seen this before, like when a cow gets a bad cut on a barbed wire fence or something and we don’t get to it for a long time. Without some serious antibiotics, the cow can die from it.”

  “Then why don’t you take her to the veterinarian …” My voice trailed off as I realized that wasn’t a bad idea. “Shit.” Our eyes met and I almost hugged Becca, but stopped myself. “You say the vet has antibiotics?”

  Becca nodded with a smile. “They have everything. They even do surgeries at the clinic. A lot of that stuff has to work on humans too, right?” she whispered. “But how will we get the medical supplies? We don’t have any money.”

  “We might have to go the IOU route,” I said.

  I went back into JoBell’s room and pressed my hand to her forehead. She was damp with sweat and burning with fever, just like Danning had been. Oh,
God, please help her to hold on. I couldn’t let her die. I’d promised to protect her. And I was done breaking those kinds of promises.

  I thought we’d just bust into the vet clinic and take all the medicine we could, but Becca insisted we talk to the doctor first. “She’s nice,” Becca said. “She’s helped out Lightning plenty of times, and anyway, we won’t have any idea what to get, so we might as well ask her.”

  We snuck down to the vet’s house outside of town early the next morning. Dr. Randall, a tall slender woman in her early thirties, twirled a strand of her long dark hair around her finger as she leaned back against the washing machine in her basement. “I’m afraid I can’t just give you the medicine and other things you need,” she said. She looked at me. “If the Army found out I’d given away medical supplies, especially some of the controlled substances, especially to wanted fugitives, I’d be in a lot of trouble.”

  That was exactly what I worried she’d say. “Dr. Randall, I’m sorry about this, but we need —”

  She held her hand up. “Please. Call me Nicole. So here’s what you need to do. Break into the clinic, and tear the place up good. Bust the cash register open. Try to crack open the vault. The antibiotics you need are in the cupboard in the back above my desk. It’s to the left of the wall where I’ve hung photos of my husband and our kids. Look for penicillin or amoxicillin. They’ll be labeled just like that. Maybe grab the ceftiofur. You should stay away from the sulfa-trimethoprin. Humans are often dangerously allergic to that. To the right of the desk is a green file cabinet. The bottom drawer is locked.”

  “You got a key?” I asked.

  “I’m the only one who keeps a key for that drawer. If it’s unlocked, they’ll know I was involved. It’s a basic file cabinet. Just use a crowbar. In that drawer you’ll find the pain meds. Morphine. Even better, hydromorphone. You have to be careful with that stuff, though. If you give her too much, she’ll OD. No more than four to six milligrams every two hours, or less.” She sighed. “On the wall to the left of the desk you’ll find cupboards with clear bags full of saline to replenish fluids. There’s also tubing, bandages. All that stuff’s good for people too.”

  “Right.” I started moving toward the door.

  “Oh! And get some stuff to clean the wounds. Just grab some iodine. It’s really important to keep wounds and everything clean and disinfected.”

  “Dr. Randall, why are you doing all this?” Becca asked.

  She shrugged. “Thanks to the blockade, everybody has slaughtered most of their livestock. All I see anymore are a few dogs and cats. I took an oath to help. I’m not going to limit that oath to only animals, and I’m not going to hoard medicines that I no longer have much use for while people die.”

  I smiled at Dr. Randall. “Thanks. I won’t forget this.” She nodded. “But you should probably forget that you saw us here today.”

  Dr. Randall reached out, and I shook her hand. “Take care of your girlfriend,” she said. “Watch out for yourselves.”

  “We will,” Becca said. “Thanks, Doctor. Um, sorry, Nicole.”

  With that, we left the veterinarian’s house and headed to the clinic in Freedom Lake. We approached it from behind, making our way down the alley to one of those heavy steel doors with a serious lock and a narrow window in the upper right corner. The door wouldn’t budge. After some searching up and down the alley, I found an old rusted piece of rebar. The window was reinforced with that chicken wire stuff, but I attacked it, and in about five fast hits, I’d busted a hole big enough to reach through. I popped the deadbolt and the lock in the knob, and then we were in.

  “Let’s hope nobody comes down the alley and sees the window,” I said, leading Becca inside.

  “And that there’s no alarm system.”

  I flipped a switch on the wall, but nothing happened. “Doubt it. No power.”

  “Great.” Becca passed by me into a big, dark room. “Should have brought a flashlight.” She vanished through a door into the next room. “Come on, Danny. This is it.”

  I followed her into an office where a pass-through offered a view of the front desk and waiting room near the entrance. A lot more light came in through the big front window. Becca already had the cupboard near the desk open. “Bingo!” She held small white boxes up to the light. “Penicillin. Amoxicillin.” She laughed. “Tons of it! I’ll get all this stuff. You bust that locked bottom drawer open. There’ll be plastic bags out front at the counter. I’ll get a couple to carry this stuff in.”

  I looked at the bottom drawer, trying to figure out how to break into it. Dr. Randall had said I should use a crowbar, which would have been good advice if I had a crowbar. I spun the piece of rebar in my hand. If I hit that drawer really hard, I might be able to bend it enough to get the bar in there and pry it open. Or I could just shoot the lock.

  “Danny, hide!” Becca hissed. “The Fed is here! They’ve seen me. I’m gonna pretend I belong here.”

  “Damn it,” I whispered. I stayed crouched down below the window between the office and the waiting room with my .45 drawn. Dr. Nicole had sold us out! Now we were stuck in a dangerous game.

  There was a knock on the door. I heard Becca take a deep breath and open it. “Can I help you?” she said.

  “Good morning, ma’am. I’m Private Olsen. Sorry to barge in on you like this before you’re open for the day, but there’s something wrong with my platoon’s dog. He’s been throwing up and he’s really lethargic. My platoon sergeant sent my squad to get him checked out. They’re back in the Humvee.”

  A whole squad was out there? I looked at my .45. It wasn’t close to enough ammo or firepower to take out a whole squad. Damn it! I should have been keeping closer watch. At least Dr. Randall hadn’t turned us in. What were we supposed to do now? If that dog had my scent, or if it was one of those pissed-off attack animals who went crazy if he heard a weird sound— say someone hiding on the other side of the wall — getting out of this might get real complicated.

  “Well, I’m only a vet technician,” said Becca. “I just come in early to clean up and take care of the animals. That’s why my clothes are so dirty already.” She laughed. “Dr. Randall will be here in, oh, maybe an hour, maybe later. I’ll call her and let her know about your dog. We’re always eager to help the troops!”

  “You have an authorized comm?” said the private.

  “No!” Becca laughed again. “ ‘Calling’ … You know what I mean. Sometimes I forget!” She laughed more. I hoped she wasn’t overdoing it. “So where you from?”

  “Me? Nebraska, ma’am. Tiny little prairie town called Wymore.”

  “Oh, please stop with that ‘ma’am’ stuff. You’re making me feel old. I’m only seventeen.”

  “Seventeen, huh?” He sounded disappointed.

  “How old are you?”

  “Nineteen.”

  She was totally flirting with this Fed prick. And I knew she was just trying to make this guy relax so they’d leave us alone, and Becca could flirt with whoever she wanted, but I found myself wanting to blast this guy.

  “But I’ll be eighteen April 13,” she said shyly.

  The private laughed. “That’s coming right up.”

  “But it feels so far away. I want to be eighteen so I can date older guys. Because I just broke up with my boyfriend. Can you believe he said he had to break up with me because I wanted too much … you know?”

  “Seriously?” The private sounded like he was choking on the word. “Wow,” he said. “I’d never get tired of … I mean, well, that’s none of my business. I’m not saying that we’d …”

  She giggled. “Private, relax. I’m glad he broke up with me. It was tough having a boyfriend with all these studs in uniform around town. But with these stupid rebels messing everything up, now I probably won’t get any birthday presents.”

  “Well, I … you know … I wouldn’t be too sure of that. You say you’re eighteen on April 13? I wouldn’t be surprised if you get more gifts than any girl in the
whole reconstruction zone.”

  Becca giggled a little more. “So do you want to bring the dog back when the doctor’s here, or should I just put him in one of our kennels for later?”

  “Right! The dog. Could you take him now? He actually threw up in the Humvee. Sergeant was real mad about that.”

  “Oh, poor puppy! Well, don’t you worry, Private Olsen—”

  “Ben. That’s my name. You can call me Ben.”

  “Ben. Well, like I said, Dr. Randall will be in after an hour or two, probably closer to two. Come on back then.”

  “Wait. What’s your name?”

  “My name?” She laughed again, and I heard a note of panic in it. “You want to know my name?”

  After such a perfect performance, now Becca was stalling out?

  “Emily,” she said. “But you can call me Em, if you want to.”

  “Right. Em. I’ll be back in an hour?”

  “Two hours.”

  “Two hours. Roger that.”

  “I’ll be waiting.” Becca held out the last word all sexy and teasing. Finally I heard the front door close and lock. But I stayed down just in case the private was gazing in at Becca through the front window.

  “Okay, you can come out now,” Becca said as she led the dog on a leash toward the kennels in the back. “They’re gone.”

  “Are you sure Ben isn’t hanging around getting you some flowers or something?” I teased.

  “Shut it,” she called. Metal clanged on metal and she came back. “That little show was a lot easier than shooting him, wasn’t it? I swear, guys can be so dumb.”

  I bent over and slammed the rebar into the front of the controlled substances drawer. “I think you really liked him.”

  She kicked me in the butt. “He was kind of cute.”

  We took what we needed and made it look like a robbery, but knowing how much Dr. Randall had helped us, we did as little damage as we had to. Then we headed to where we’d hidden our snowmobile and rushed away with the medicine that would save JoBell.

  * * *

  As soon as we got back, we gave JoBell a white amoxicillin pill, because we knew it was an antibiotic and it was clear how she should take it. The penicillin was liquid. Should we squirt it on the wound, have her drink it, run it through an IV? Who knew? After giving her the pill, we cleaned the wound, first with just water and then with iodine.