The Scattered and the Dead (Book 2.5)

by Tim McBain

  And I could hear his voice in my memory then, could see his silhouette standing in the doorway like it had.

  “Meatball in there?”

  I grit my teeth when I thought of it. He was gathering meat to bring out here for whatever reason must make sense to his lunatic mind. What else could he have wanted the dog for in the middle of the night like that?

  He wanted to butcher his pup and leave him here on this altar.

  Erin

  Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

  13 days after

  Kelly-

  After my little tiff with Sgt. Foressi yesterday, I realized I would need her permission to visit my mom. What a load of crap, right? So I made an effort to be on my best behavior, as much as it made me want to scream with the unfairness of it all.

  I helped her with some of the smaller kids at dinner and bedtime without her asking. This morning she requested that I help her get all the kids to and from the porta-potties, which is kind of a pain in the ass. If she hadn’t slapped me, I might have even felt some sympathy for all the work she has to do.

  When visiting hours rolled around, I did my best to play the meek and obedient child. She mulled it over for a few seconds before saying I could go.

  I ran all the way to the quarantine tent, which was pointless because I had to stand in line. They only allow people in one at a time, so one of the volunteers can carefully watch to make sure you don’t inadvertently contaminate yourself.

  When it was my turn, the volunteer at the sign-in roster stared at me and pursed her lips. I don’t think we’ve ever worked together, but I know her name is Mary.

  “Hold on one second,” Mary said.

  A minute or two later, a nurse named Heather appeared at the entrance to the tent.

  “Erin.”

  “Yes,” I said, desperate to know what the hell was going on. “Is my mom…”

  I couldn’t finish the question. I was too afraid that I didn’t want to know the answer.

  “Oh honey, she’s still here. But… visitors have to be eighteen or older.”

  My hopes soared and then came crashing down, all in the span of a few seconds.

  “No, they told me I could. Yesterday, Lisa said I could come back for visiting hours.”

  Heather sucked in a breath.

  “Well, Lisa isn’t here, so I can’t really…”

  “Please,” I said, my voice coming out in a loud wail. “I know this is a mistake. I just need to see my mom.”

  “Honey, I can’t. There are strict protocols. I know Dr. Kaiser won’t allow it.”

  I couldn’t hold it together anymore. I entered full meltdown mode.

  It was complete bullshit. I’d been in that tent a hundred times, and now I was too young to be inside? Not to mention that if they just asked my mom, she would obviously say it’s OK.

  I tried to explain this to Heather, but she just passed me off to one of the volunteers and asked them to make sure I got back to camp.

  It was Mary that latched onto my arm and started to nudge me away from the tent. But I wrenched free and took off at a run.

  I had to find Lisa. Lisa had promised me. Lisa would talk to Dr. Kaiser and get me inside.

  I didn’t know which tent was Lisa’s, so I skittered from doorway to doorway, poking my head in to see if she was there.

  After checking my seventh or eighth tent, someone called my name, and I whirled around.

  “Erin, what’s wrong?” Max asked.

  I’m sure I was red-faced because of the crying, and my hands were shaking. I was a mess.

  Max pulled me to him and wrapped his arms around me, and I thought about how two days ago, this was all I wanted in the world. And now all I could imagine was him pressed up against Breanne in that Humvee, grunting like a pig.

  I know what I wrote before, about letting things be what they are, but I suppose I still have a spine. His touch repulsed me, even if I didn’t hate him fully.

  I stepped back, wiping my face. Max asked what was wrong again, so I told him all of it. Starting with my mom getting taken to the tent and ending with them refusing to let me visit her.

  “They won’t let you in?”

  “Not without parental supervision, which I can’t get for obvious reasons.”

  “That’s stupid. You’re in there all the time.”

  “That’s what I said!”

  Max licked his lips and said, “Come on.”

  He started to walk away at a rapid pace, and I had to jog to catch up.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I have an idea.”

  Max told me to wait outside one of the barracks tents and disappeared through the entrance.

  Voices filtered through the canvas, the words themselves muffled and unintelligible. And then Sgt. Grantham stepped out. He looked me up and down.

  “You’re the one Specialist Rippingale has been telling me about? You’ve been volunteering in the quarantine tent, and now your mother has taken ill?”

  I nodded, feeling a little nervous to be eye to eye with the man in charge of the entire camp. I know he’s just a person, but I’ve only ever seen him from a distance, giving orders and running meetings and stuff. It makes him seem untouchable or something. And now he was talking to me and asking me questions.

  “They won’t allow you in for visiting hours because you’re a minor, is that correct?”

  Max had reappeared at his side, and he gave me an encouraging nod.

  “Yes,” I said, and then added, “sir.”

  I don’t know if I’m supposed to say that or not. Is it just soldiers that have to call him sir? In any case, my eyes flicked over to Max. He smiled.

  “Well, let’s go see if we can’t get you in to see her.”

  The three of us walked over to the quarantine tent. There was some small talk that I don’t remember, because it all felt too surreal.

  Sgt. Grantham marched straight through the plastic barricades, ignoring the protests of the volunteers still manning the visitor roster. Max and I waited at the entrance.

  “Is this going to work?” I asked. “What can he do?”

  “The medical tent is under his authority. Trust me, he’ll get you in.”

  On cue, Sgt. Grantham returned with Heather the nurse in tow.

  “Erin, you can come see your mom now,” she said, though she didn’t look pleased about it.

  I didn’t really give a crap if she was happy or not. I just wanted to see my mom. Somehow I had the presence of mind to stop and thank Sgt. Grantham.

  “Happy to help, young lady.”

  Usually when I’m in the quarantine tent, I change out of my clothes and into scrubs. But since I was only a visitor now, they gave me isolation gear to put on over my regular clothes.

  Heather led me over to a bed. My mom’s face was so puffy from the saline they were pumping into her, I almost wouldn’t have recognized her.

  “I’ll let you have a few extra minutes since…” she trailed off. “You know the drill, right? I don’t have to watch you every second like I do everyone else?”

  “I know what to do,” I said.

  Heather nodded and moved off to check on her other patients.

  I moved around the bed so I could get a closer glimpse. I’d been telling myself this whole time she couldn’t be that sick. But she looked bad, Kel. Really bad.

  There was a feeding tube in one nostril and an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. The papery skin under her eyes was swollen and purple. And the lymph nodes on the sides of her neck were sticking out so far it looked like she’d swallowed a couple marbles.

  “Mom?” I said.

  Her eyelids fluttered and opened a crack. Her face turned a fraction of an inch toward me, but she didn’t speak.

  “Mom, I’m here.”

  I found her hand and wrapped my fingers around it. The latex of the glove made it impossible to feel the texture of her skin. I wanted to take the gloves off so badly. I wanted to touch her hands for
real. I’ve always liked my mom’s hands. They are soft and smooth but strong.

  I knew that strength would mean she’d pull through. She had to. Nothing would make sense if she didn’t.

  Eventually, Heather returned and told me my time was up. I promised my mom I would be back, and then I let go of her hand.

  The isolation gear came off in the reverse order I’d put it on. I washed my hands and exited the tent.

  Max was leaning against one of the ambulances that are parked just outside the entrance. Waiting for me, I guess.

  “Hey,” he said. “How was it? I mean, if you need to talk…”

  I met his eyes for a moment before lowering my gaze to the ground. Despite all that’s happened, I considered it, honestly considered it. But I had no desire to talk to him about it. None.

  “Thank you for doing that. Really. But I just want to be alone right now,” I said.

  I left him standing there in the dust, and in the half-second before I swung away from him, I saw the disappointment in his eyes.

  Your BFF, who is out of clever things to say,

  Erin

  Erin

  Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

  14 days after

  Kelly-

  Last night before lights out, Breanne saw me with the kids group. She walked by with Collette, snickering, and made some crack about it being past my bedtime.

  I want to take back all the stuff I said about forgiving her, but I know that’s not right. Because maybe I could have learned to forget the Max stuff. But this? How she’s acted since then? She can eat my entire ass.

  She obviously knows about my mom. That’s the only reason I’m in the godforsaken Kids Tent in the first place. And she’s still bitter at me… because she’s a shit friend.

  You know who’s not a shit friend? You. You are the opposite of a shit friend. You are a pizza friend. A mashed potato friend. A Friday-night-at-the-Sandhill-Inn-clam-chowder friend. Fuck, I miss you. And I love you. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you that. We aren’t really the touchy-feely kind of best friends, I suppose, but I feel it all the same. I know, I’m getting all sappy like your Uncle Buck after his 7th beer, but seriously. I love you, man. I hope you are safe out there, wherever you are.

  Also, fuck everyone and everything here. I fucking hate this place.

  I just went over to the quarantine tent for visiting hours and was informed by Dr. Kaiser that yesterday’s visit was a one-time favor on behalf of Sgt. Grantham.

  I guess I could always try talking to Sgt. Grantham to see if he’d get me in again. I’m too chicken to go by myself, though. I’d have to go to Max, but I don’t think I could bring myself to ask him for another favor. The douche chills that would cause could be fatal.

  Actually, scratch that. What am I so scared of? The last few days have been some of the worst in my life. I’ve got nothing to lose, because things can’t get any crappier than they already are.

  I’m going to march right over to Sgt. Grantham’s tent and ask him to help me out. If he says no, at least I tried.

  Well that did not go as planned.

  I did what I said. Strutted my bad self straight to Sgt. Grantham’s tent. When I got there, a group of soldiers huddled around the entrance. The only one I recognized was Benji.

  “Hey Erin,” he said, and I was a little surprised. I didn’t think he knew my name.

  “Hi.”

  “Need something?”

  “I wanted to talk to Sgt. Grantham.”

  Meaningful looks were exchanged between them, and finally Benji asked, “You didn’t hear?”

  “Hear what?”

  “They just took him over to the quarantine tent. He’s sick.”

  I just stared at him, unable to find any words.

  “What was it you needed? Bennett’s in charge now, so you’ll have to talk to him, but—”

  “Bennett?” I repeated.

  “Yeah. He’s the senior NCO at camp.”

  I spun on my heel without saying goodbye, wondering if Sgt. Grantham had gotten sick because he’d stormed into the quarantine tent yesterday on my behalf without isolation garb on.

  I must have jinxed it with all that talk about how things couldn’t get worse. Because if Bennett’s in charge, things are definitely going to get worse. There’s no way I can ask him for a favor. I know he wouldn’t help me anyway.

  That’s OK, though.

  Because Erin’s got a little plan up her sleevies. That’s right.

  Shenanigans.

  Your cunning BFF,

  Erin

  Delfino

  Outside of New Bern, North Carolina

  4 years, 49 days after

  I gathered the rodent corpses and guts and fish heads and buried them off to the side of the altar. Looking back, I don’t know why, but it was important to me in that moment to disrupt whatever was happening in that little clearing, to tuck it into the dirt, to kill this ceremony. Hellickson was offering this flesh for reasons I would never understand, and I didn’t like it.

  I dug at the earth with my fingers. Scratching. Clawing. Scraping. A moss swaddled layer of topsoil came up rather easily, and I worked at the soft, black stuff beneath that until it gave way to the sandier layer below. My fingernails caught on that packed dirt, etching the faintest grooves into it but failing to do any more than that.

  I sat back. Rested a moment. Shoulders heaving. It wasn’t until I plucked my hands from the ground that I realized how out of breath I’d gotten.

  And then it was time for the gutworks to go in.

  Stringy bits of flesh piled into the hole I’d carved, and something about that put me at ease before I’d even covered ‘er over.

  Meat.

  That was all I could think. Meat. I kept wanting to think of it as dead meat, but all meat is dead, isn’t it?

  We’re all living creatures for a little while, and then we’re meat for a while longer. If we’re lucky, there’s someone there to bury us.

  I pushed the sloping heaps of dirt, spilling them over the foul meat. That earthy odor replaced the rot faster than I thought it would, and again, I was pleased. There didn’t seem to be enough loose stuff to cover it very well, so I scooped up several handfuls from the path surrounding the altar to get it done the way I wanted it.

  It’s hard to get across the relief all of this brought me. I don’t think it makes a lot of sense, and I have no words for it.

  I tamped down the soil with the heels of my hands. It had that rich, smooth feel to it like expensive coffee freshly ground. Pleasant. Almost like it was wet, but it wasn’t.

  On the walk home, I thought again about Meatball and shuddered. That tiny dog wrapped in blankets at the foot of my bed.

  Something is wrong with Mr. Hellickson. I can’t figure exactly what it is, but I get the feeling that all of this is going to lead to a conflict real soon.

  Erin

  Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

  15 days after

  Kelly-

  I’ve been staring at this page for at least twenty minutes now.

  I can’t figure out how to write the words.

  Maybe if I spell it out one letter at a time.

  M

  Y

  M

  O

  M

  I

  S

  G

  O

  N

  E

  Sorry to seem so melodramatic. I just still can’t seem to wrap my head all the way around it.

  What does that phrase even mean? “Wrap my head around it?”

  Is it supposed to mean that the idea is so big that it won’t fit inside your mind?

  If so, I guess that’s a pretty accurate way to describe it all.

  I should start at the beginning and tell you what happened after lights out.

  My big plan — the shenanigans I was referring to before — was to sneak in to see my mom. I kept thinking how heartbroken she would be if I didn’t come visit again. I’d promised,
after all. Would she think I’d forgotten about her? That I didn’t care?

  I had to get in that tent.

  And because of all the volunteering I did, I knew how to get in without anyone knowing.

  So I waited for lights out.

  Izzy must have made some kind of bargain with the girl that had the cot across from me, because they traded spots. Usually we make silly faces at each other while we wait for Sgt. Foressi to turn out the lantern, but tonight I wasn’t in the mood. I just rolled over to face the wall, pretending to sleep.

  I waited for probably an hour, until I was sure Sgt. Foressi was asleep. And then I slipped off my cot and crept outside.

  The tiki torches were lit, but only in the regular part of camp. Once you get out in the empty space that lies between the main camp area and the quarantine tent, it’s super dark. I’ve never walked out there by myself before, and it was pretty creepy.

  But the closer I got to the tent, the better I felt. I bypassed the main entrance and ducked behind the corner, waiting. A few minutes later, at the stroke of 12:30 AM (though I wasn’t wearing a watch), it happened. Two nurses, three volunteers, and Dr. Graves filed out of the tent, chattering amongst themselves in hushed voices.

  I watched the entirety of the graveyard shift waddle off into the dark before I went around to the rear of the tent. There’s a smaller door flap back there, and my mom’s bed just happens to be pretty close. Even if one of the caregivers came back early, I could slink in and out undetected.

  Two hulking rectangular shapes took form in front of me as I rounded the back corner. The old morgue trucks. A shiver ran over my skin at the sight of them. I forced my feet to keep moving.

  Just as I stretched out a hand to move the tent partition aside, I heard someone muttering from inside the tent. I froze, my heart rattling around in my chest.

  It must have been a patient, mumbling in their sleep. I’d seen all the workers leave for their break.

  But then a second voice answered the first. I strained my ears but couldn’t make out the words. I was certain it was a proper conversation.