Pandemic: Level 6: A Post Apocalyptic Medical Thriller Fiction Series (The Pandemic Series Book 3)

by Bobby Akart

  Tommy patted Hunter on the back and found a spot on the trail to set down his gear. “Most people who fish Summit County like the Upper Blue River. It’s easily fished for beginners and even has an interesting water feature where you can fish the stair steps, as it’s called.”

  “What’s that?” asked Hunter as he removed his gear and unshouldered his ever-present M4 rifle.

  Tommy continued. “The steps are a series of drop ponds created by the locals for trout during low-water-flow periods. It’s great for beginners. Very few newbies and only a handful of experienced anglers venture up here to fish the streams and high mountain lakes. It requires a bit of exploring and hiking to find the good spots.”

  “I take it Blue Lakes is a good spot,” interrupted Hunter.

  “Dang straight. McCullough Gulch has some excellent options, but again, one of the reasons I chose this spot for our home was the unique nature of Blue Lakes. It’s actually a series of lakes connected by Monte Cristo Creek, as I’ve mentioned. It gives you the best of both worlds.”

  “I’ve never fished a stream or creek,” said Hunter.

  “The mechanics are similar, but the lures will differ. We’ll fish the lake first with small trout lures. If we have time, or if they aren’t biting here at the lake, we’ll walk up to the creek and try using worms and flies. After the rain the other day, I strolled down the back side of the house and dug up some healthy earthworms. I’ve got ’em in my pouch.”

  While Tommy got their gear ready, Hunter took his rifle and walked the lake. Anytime he was away from the house, or an area he hadn’t yet explored, he became hyperaware of his surroundings. He’d look for trails that led to their position, which could produce an ambush. He studied the higher elevations to determine if a sniper would have a clear line of sight to their location. He also studied the ground, looking for evidence of recent activity.

  Tommy had grown accustomed to Hunter’s routine since the day they’d discovered the hiker’s dead body. He no longer questioned Hunter about what he was doing. In return, Hunter was more vocal about explaining his methodology to Tommy. Everything they did generated a teachable moment to ensure their survival.

  Plus, Hunter had to be cognizant of the fact that something might happen to him, and the group would have to manage without him. Throughout his military career and years at the DTRA, Hunter had thrown caution to the wind. Now, he had lots to live for.

  Chapter 22

  Day Fifty-Seven

  Quandary Peak

  The boys, as the three male species of the group were now affectionately called, returned home from their fishing expedition in triumphant and jovial moods. Flatus, after the fishing day was over, got his much-anticipated swim in the lake. Tommy had reeled in one massive high-mountain trout after another. Throughout the afternoon, Tommy would joke that this species of trout was dumb, or at the very least naïve.

  At one point, Tommy had propped his rod on a rock with his lure dangling, and a thirteen-inch cutthroat trout leapt out of the water and grabbed the baited hook. Tommy chased the marauding trout until he got ahold of the rod.

  When they arrived back at the house, a bottle of wine had been opened and Barb was clamoring for dinner. Tommy presented the catch and declared the marauding trout to be the first to meet his fillet knife.

  “Well, boys,” started Mac, “very impressive. How much do you think they weigh?”

  “From what I can remember, a twelve-inch bass or crappie would weigh just over a pound. Tommy, what do you think?”

  “Yeah, pretty close,” replied Tommy, who turned his attention to Barb. “Honey, how is our freezer space?”

  Barb glanced toward Janie, who had been responsible for emptying out the deep freeze during their canning project. “It’s almost empty. Are you going to freeze those?”

  “Some of them,” replied Tommy. “I think I’ll fillet three. Each of us can have half and then I’ll save half to supplement my buddy’s diet. The protein will be good for him.”

  “But not too much, Tommy,” interjected Janie. “It’s tough on his kidneys.”

  “Okay, sorry, bud,” said Tommy as he gave Flatus a rub of the neck. Flatus was welcome inside now as part of the family.

  Janie moved toward the fish, which had been dropped into the kitchen sink. “Do I just drop them in the freezer?”

  “Oh no,” replied Tommy. “They’ll get freezer burn. You gotta remember the old saying, quality in means quality out. I have a FoodSaver vacuum sealer machine. It’s actually the game-saver model for fish and meat, if we ever bag a deer or moose. I’ll get started cleaning the fish and then I’ll show you how it works.”

  Janie was giddy with excitement. “I love this. I’m a city girl. All of this is new to me.”

  “Then, Dr. Janie, you shall be my assistant.”

  Janie and Tommy went to the bathroom and washed their hands and got started on their fish-cleaning project. Barb, Mac and Hunter took seats in the living area in front of the massive stone fireplace.

  Hunter checked his watch. This was the one time of day when they were most vulnerable without someone patrolling the perimeter. The group wanted to make every effort to have the dinnertime meal together to discuss any news events they’d learned while monitoring the satellite television and Internet. They’d given up on radio broadcasts a week ago.

  Professor Hagan began his class. “We have two types of knives, my new student, the classic fillet knife and the boning knife. Now, someone in your career field should know a little something about knives, I would hope.”

  Hunter started laughing. Barb offered to pour him a glass of wine, but he declined. He planned on taking the first patrol shift and wanted to stay sharp. Besides, he was regretting his decision to avoid stocking up on Budweiser. He wasn’t much for wine or hard alcohol except when he was sharing a tequila with Mac.

  “Tell me, is there anyone Tommy doesn’t hit it off with?” asked Hunter.

  “Me,” said Barb dryly, causing Mac to burst into laughter and snort out the wine she was sipping.

  “Mom, that is so not true. Daddy adores you. I know this for a fact.”

  “Dear, I’ve been a royal pain in the neck sometimes. I admit that. I think the military hardened me.”

  “It’ll do that,” started Hunter, turning his attention to Mac with a smile. “Let me say this, as new things enter your life and change your outlook, those regimented ways will gradually disappear.”

  “That’s true,” said Barb. “It took me a while to get used to retirement. Partly for how it went down, but also because I was used to having a purpose every day. Tommy already had his routine in place. Breakfast with the guys. Putzing around in the garden. Fishing on Coos Bay. I didn’t have hobbies. I had my military service.”

  “Mom, honestly. You are waaay more relaxed than back in those days.” Mac tipped her wineglass towards her mother and took another sip.

  “As are you, dear,” her mom replied with a knowing smile.

  “OUCH! Crap!” shouted Tommy.

  “Hold on, Tommy, don’t move!” exclaimed Janie. “Guys!”

  Everyone shot out of their chairs and ran to the kitchen. Tommy was holding his hand with a bloody towel wrapped around it. Blood was dripping into the sink full of discarded fish parts.

  “Are you okay?” asked Barb.

  “Daddy?”

  “Oh, I’ll be fine,” insisted Tommy. “It’s probably nothing. It was the dang marauder trout. I decided to save him for last and he waited to get even.”

  Janie reached for Tommy’s hand. “Come here and let me take a look,” she insisted. “Okay, the meaty pad of his left hand below his thumb has been lacerated.”

  “How deep, Janie?” asked Barb, trying to look over her husband’s shoulder to see the extent of the injury. Tommy tried to lift his arm higher, which caused blood to gush down his arm off the end of his elbow.

  “Lower it, Tommy, and let me run some cold water over it to flush the wound,” said Janie. “Mac, w
ill you grab the trauma kit you and I put together. It’s in the basement.”

  Hunter replied, “I know where it is. Hang on, Tommy.”

  As Hunter dashed for the stairwell, Tommy replied, “Don’t tell me. Tell this hunk of meat hanging off my hand.”

  Janie wrapped his hand with a clean towel and told him to keep pressure on it and elevated just above his shoulders.

  “From what I can tell, the laceration doesn’t appear to be deep enough to have damaged the structure underneath. You know, tendons, nerves, and blood vessels. It certainly didn’t reach bone.”

  “That’s good,” said Mac.

  “I told you I can fillet with the best of ’em,” said Tommy with a chuckle.

  “Shut up, Tommy!” Barbara vocally spanked her husband. She turned her attention back to Janie. “Can you do something?”

  Hunter bounded up the stairs with the trauma kit. He also had an extra roll of gauze and a large tube of triple antibiotic ointment.

  Janie checked her watch. “He’s been applying pressure for a couple of minutes. Two minutes more and we’ll check it. Most minor cuts produce what is known as venous bleeding. Hunter, that means the blood flows steadily from the injury but will stop after four or five minutes of applying steady pressure.”

  Mac interrupted. “The wound didn’t appear to be forcing the blood out. The fatty part of the hand doesn’t have arteries capable of that.”

  “Exactly, which is why I think we can get the bleeding under control and stitch him up,” added Janie.

  “We have to take this seriously, obviously,” said Mac. “Even a cut that does not require medical attention must be clean to prevent infection. Bacteria can easily enter the body through a cut in the skin, resulting in tetanus and lockjaw.”

  “Oh, we can only hope!” exclaimed Barb with a laugh as she walked out of the kitchen to give Janie room to work.

  “You don’t mean that, Mom.” Mac laughed. The tears that streamed down her unexcitable mother’s face was evidence of that.

  Janie examined Tommy’s wound once again and was pleased that the bleeding had subsided. She and Mac got a good look at the laceration.

  “Not bad, would you agree, Dr. Hagan?” asked Janie.

  “I agree, Dr. Turnbull. A few stitches and he should be good to go.”

  “Dr. Hagan, would you care to assist? When was the last time you sutured a patient?”

  “It seems like half a lifetime ago, Dr. Turnbull. I’ll try not to slip with the fishhook.”

  Tommy got an ashen, concerned look on his face and began to squirm. “Wait, really? Can’t we just put a Band-Aid on it or some Liquid Nails like they do on those doomsday prepper shows?”

  “No, Dad, and that’s superglue, not Liquid Nails.”

  “Oh, okay. Do I get a lollipop?”

  Barb chimed in from the living room, “There’s still the lockjaw option. That’s my suggestion.”

  The girls started laughing and the color began to reappear in Tommy’s face. Janie rummaged through the trauma kit and pulled out a bottle of Betadine, surgical gloves, and the necessary final dressings.

  “What size suture thread, Janie?” asked Mac.

  “Four or five. Either should be fine for most arm and leg wounds. We’d use two or three for more delicate areas.”

  “I’ve got them all, but I have more size four. For something simple like this where we have easy access to the wound, a straight, eyed needle should suffice.”

  Hunter covered the kitchen table with a large bath towel and then rolled out some wax paper to create a relatively sterile surface for Janie to do her work.

  “Okay, Tommy, I’m gonna start at the center of your laceration and work outwards. This may take more stitches than I originally envisioned, but we’ve got you covered.”

  As Janie patted the excess fluid off the palm of his hand, Mac prepared the suture. “Whadya think, Janie. Eighth of an inch?”

  “Yup, that should do it.”

  With steady hands, Janie methodically repaired Tommy’s hand, tying a suture every eighth of an inch along the laceration. He stayed still and quiet, a model patient. Like Hunter, Tommy appeared to be fascinated by the work Janie and Mac performed. Within a few minutes, he was sewn up and bandaged for protection.

  “Thank you both, seriously,” started Tommy. “I got careless and this could have been much worse.”

  “You’re welcome, Tommy,” said Janie as she removed her gloves. “The primary focus is to avoid infection, so aftercare is extremely important. We need to regularly change these bandages at least twice a day. We can check the wound for infection and keep it clean. If there is any sign of infection, we may need to reopen the wound.”

  “Thank you, Janie,” added Barb, who had joined the group to watch Janie’s skillful hands.

  “That said,” Janie continued, “I’d feel a whole lot better if you and Hunter could go into town and have Doc Cooley take a look. I suspect the hospital is overburdened right now, if it’s functioning at all. His stamp of approval would make me feel better.”

  “Deal,” said Tommy. “How about that lollipop?”

  He didn’t get a lollipop, but he earned a swat across the head from his wife for being a klutz and scaring her.

  Chapter 23

  Day Fifty-Eight

  Breckenridge

  Hunter and Tommy drove into town with several items on their list of things to do. After a bandage change that morning, Janie was comfortable with the look of Tommy’s wound, but she still insisted Doc Cooley have a look. Tommy doubted the doctor would be in his office, but if he wasn’t, they’d stop by his home on the way back. When he and Barb first visited Quandary Peak, Doc and his wife were extremely helpful and gracious in assisting the Hagans become part of the community. “Things always work out for a reason,” Tommy remarked as he and Hunter discussed their relationship with the Breckenridge community.

  As outsiders trying to blend into a small-town dynamic, their group would have ordinarily been at a disadvantage. Small-town politics and the social cliques could make it difficult for a newcomer attempting to assimilate, especially in a post-apocalyptic world.

  Tommy and Barb broke the ice through years of visiting the Breck and socializing with the locals. Hunter had taken a step in that direction by introducing himself to local law enforcement. Tommy had met the sheriff a few times during town events.

  The three couples shared a drink following the annual Santa Claus run and lighting of the Breckenridge Christmas Tree, which occurs on the first Saturday of December. The three men were among of hundreds of Santas running, skipping, and jogging down Main Street prior to the lighting of the tree.

  After Hunter drove slowly through town, their first stop was going to be Doc Cooley’s office at High Country Health Care, but the facility was locked up. A handwritten sign was posted inside the glass door, which read:

  CLOSED INDEFINITELY.

  VISIT HOSPITAL FOR EMERGENCIES.

  NO DRUGS ON PREMISES.

  “Let’s go see what’s going on at the sheriff’s office,” said Tommy. “I feel like walkin’, how ’bout you?”

  Hunter hesitated as he surveyed their surroundings. He wasn’t necessarily comfortable leaving the Jeep unattended, and although Breckenridge was an open-carry locale, he was afraid to draw attention to them by carrying an M4 down the sidewalk.

  “Let’s not, Tommy. I’m sorry. Although it seems relatively calm, let’s not take any chances, okay?”

  “Sure, I get it. You know you can carry your gun in Breckenridge, just not on city-owned property. Heck, under these circumstances, even that probably doesn’t matter.”

  Hunter unlocked the doors to the Jeep and they climbed in. “I understand. I just don’t want to draw attention to ourselves. It’s bad enough we’re the only moving vehicle other than that carload of teens we saw.”

  “I guess joyriding is still in fashion, even with the world falling apart,” said Tommy with a chuckle.

  Hunter whee
led into the empty parking lot. Only a handful of sheriff’s vehicles were parked by the locked gate to the side of the building. Otherwise, the place was devoid of activity. Just as they approached the front doors, Summit County Sheriff Terry Andrews exited the building and locked the door behind him. A sheriff’s office of the size of Summit County’s was left unmanned. Hunter found that odd. He wondered who was watching the inmates in the jail.

  “Well, howdy, Tommy,” said Sheriff Andrews. “I didn’t know you were in town. Everything’s a mess, but that doesn’t mean me and the missus can’t have a beer with you and Barb.”

  “Well, we kinda snuck into town,” said Tommy. “I got a few murder warrants out for my arrest and I didn’t want anyone to know I was hiding out in your fair hamlet.”

  Sheriff Andrews let out a hearty laugh. “Is that how you busted up your hand?” asked the Sheriff, pointing to Tommy’s left paw.

  “Nah. That come from a knife fight with three ninjas.”

  The comradery between the men was genuine. Hunter firmly believed if Tommy had an outstanding murder warrant, the friendly sheriff would look the other way.

  “Hunter, right? It’s good to see you again,” said the sheriff.

  “Same here, Sheriff,” replied Hunter. “Are you a little undermanned? I noticed you locked the door.”

  Sheriff Andrews let out a sigh. “I never imagined it would get like this, fellas. I’ve got seventy-three employees within five divisions—admin, ops, detention, animal control, and emergency management. My personnel started calling out a week and a half ago. First, I reassigned animal control to detentions.”

  “That makes sense,” interrupted Tommy with a laugh.

  Sheriff Andrews look confused for a second; then he got the implication. “Yeah, I reckon it does. Eventually the admin folks stopped working and I was down to three 9-1-1 operators. Heck, I was taking calls sometimes and running dispatch too.”

  “Sheriff, I have to ask. If you’ve locked the door and nobody is manning the ship, so to speak, who’s watching over the inmates in the county jail?”