"No wonder these guys want to stay here," Jo said as she looked around the crowded dining hall. "I guess compared to all that nastiness, this is pretty cushy."
"Yeah," Tony said. "Lieutenant Hendricks told me as we were leaving that they had word last night that China invaded Taiwan because our fleets out there in the Pacific were returning to Pearl Harbor. I don't know what that means, but it sure doesn’t sound good. Makes me want to get home that much faster."
"Amen, brother," Reese said. He slapped his hands on the table and stood. "I can't sit here any longer. Anybody want this?" he asked as he pointed to his tray of half eaten food.
"Sure," Tony said with gusto. He pulled the tray in front of him and tucked in.
"Where are you going?" asked Jo.
"I'm gonna head down to the dock. I want to check on the boats—maybe see if I can find out about Libby. I haven't seen Byron since we landed yesterday…”
"I didn't see him, either. Lieutenant Hendricks told me that Aunt Libby is still unconscious, but they've got her stabilized. They’re thinking that she might wake up anytime now."
"Is Byron with her, then?” asked Jo.
Tony nodded, his mouth full of food.
"Well, that settles it,” Reese said. “I'll head over to the medical tent and check in on everybody. Want to meet back here…say in an hour?" asked Jo.
Reese nodded. "Sounds good, see you guys."
He used the short walk from the mess tent down the slight embankment toward the shore to clear his thoughts. Between the fall of the rest of the country and wars on the other side of the world, and civilians fighting soldiers over food on Long Island—Reese was more determined than ever to get on his way back home. Everything hinged on the boats.
As he came within sight of the two sailboats tied up at the dock where they'd left them the night before, Reese froze in the street. Soldiers clustered around in groups, none of them armed, and carried tools and packing crates back and forth between the two sailboats. A gaggle of civilians, dressed like Reese, swarmed over the sailboats. One was all the way up at the tip of Tiberia’s mast, near the anti-collision light at the tip.
Reese quickened his pace to the wharf and made his way through the crowd to the dock. Dozens of people talked at the same time and carried on conversations related to installing hardware, removing supplies, modifying wiring, and investigating the seaworthiness of the boats.
"What's going on here?" Reese called out.
An angry looking man with a blunt face turned and pulled off his helmet. He tucked it under one arm and stepped briskly over to Reese. "I'm Sergeant Powell. How can I help you, sir?" he said in a no-nonsense voice.
"I'm Reese Lavelle—skipper of the Intrepid there," he said with an open palm aimed toward the sailboat covered in soldiers and civilians. "What are you doing to my boat?"
The corner of Powell’s mouth curled up. "Your boat? What gave you the impression that she was your boat?"
"The fact that this is America, and nobody told me otherwise," Reese replied evenly.
The soldier snorted. "Buddy, this may still be America, but I got news for you: the major don't have to tell you squat."
"What are those guys doing over there?" Reese asked as he looked over Powell’s shoulder toward Tiberia.
"Whatever I tell them to," Powell replied. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to work."
"Wait a minute," Reese said as he reached out to grab the soldier.
The sergeant froze mid-turn and looked down at Reese’s hand on his arm. In a slow, deliberate manner, he looked up at Reese. "Sir, I'm going to ask you nicely to remove your hand, or I'll remove it for you."
Reese pulled his hand back in a jerky motion and held them both in front of his chest. "Look, I'm sorry, I'm just—I’m a little disoriented and I don't know what's going on. Nobody's told me anything—“
"Sir, believe me,” Powell said, not unkindly. “If you needed to know something, someone would've told you. Now, I need you to step back over that line there," he said with a nod of his head toward the line of fresh paint on the wharf, "and stay out of the way.”
"You can't just take our sailboats," Reese protested, as two burly soldiers appeared at either elbow and politely—but firmly—directed him toward the wharf.
Sergeant Powell raised one hand casually, and the soldiers froze. He walked over to Reese and put his helmet back on his head but let the chinstrap dangle along the side of his face. "Let's get something straight, Mr. Lavelle. One, you ask too many questions. Two, Major Robertson will do whatever he pleases. Three, it's my job to make sure whatever the major says needs to happen, actually happens. And four, you’re lucky we don't have you pressed into one of the labor gangs, like the other troublemakers. If you want to keep it that way, I suggest you keep your mouth shut and your head down." He looked at the two soldiers and nodded, then turned away. Reese opened his mouth to reply, but the soldiers dragged him toward the wharf’s edge.
"Gotta listen to the man, mister,” one of the soldiers said out of the corner of his mouth. "Things ain't going too well for the civvies that are resisting. Just go with the flow, man—you'll be all right."
"But I don't even want to stay here," Reese said as they reached the yellow line on the wooden planks. He angrily shrugged out of their grips and stepped back. The soldiers glanced at each other, then looked at Reese and shrugged.
"Not my problem," the taller soldier said. They turned their backs to Reese and walked away.
Reese clenched his hands into fists, spun on his heel, and marched straight back up the hill toward the dining hall tent. The soldiers had their mission, and that was fine…but Reese had a new mission, too: find Jo and escape Long Island.
Chapter 11
Lavelle Homestead
Bee’s Landing Subdivision
Northwest of Charleston, South Carolina
The next morning as Cami fixed breakfast, Amber walked into the kitchen, her nose in the Medic Manual. "Morning, professor," Cami said with a smile.
"Have you been reading that all night?" asked Mia as she settled her kids at the table.
"Not all night," Amber replied absently as she stifled a yawn. "But this stuff is fascinating—-it's amazing what you can do to help people, even without access to modern medicine. I never knew..." she muttered and turned the page.
"Is there anything in there that's going to help us with Amy and Merle?" asked Cami.
"I think so,” Amber said as she looked up. “I think there's a lot in here that will help, actually. There's a few things we should be doing right now to make sure everyone else stays healthy." Amber put the book down and sat at the table. "There's all kinds of stuff—-chapters on hygiene and keeping your teeth clean, what to do about cuts and scrapes—-"
"For now, I think we've got plenty of Neosporin and Band-Aids,” Cami said, “without having to resort to poultices and compresses." Cami dished out reconstituted scrambled eggs onto their plates. Mia stepped up and helped. Cami had used the same cast-iron skillet she cooked the eggs in to toast bread and avoided wasting electricity on the toaster.
Amber closed the book and accepted her plate of eggs and toast with a smile. "How long you think it's going to be before we run out of bread?"
"Well," said Cami as she took her seat and snapped a cloth napkin over her lap. "We’re almost out of the premade stuff...but I've got plenty of yeast and flour put away. We’ll be able to make bread for a while, I'd say."
"I bet Yolinda can make bread for...well, pretty much forever," Mia said as she tucked into her eggs.
"What makes you say that?" asked Amber, her fork not quite to her mouth.
Mia chided her younger boy as he tried to push the older one off his chair. "Well, she's a baker...right? She’s been making bread for a few people in the neighborhood already—-the ones who are really low on food, you know? If she was running low on supplies, I doubt she’d just be giving all that away."
"That doesn't mean she's got an unlimited
supply of baking supplies at home," Amber said around a mouthful of eggs. She reached for the salt.
Cami put her fork down. "No, Mia's right—-she might not have all the supplies at her house, but I bet her bakery does..."
All three looked at each other. "Maybe we should go have a talk with her and see if she'd be willing to make bread for the whole neighborhood? We could help her..." Cami suggested.
"Yeah! We can help her bring all the supplies back to her place, and she could set up her bakery shop out of her own kitchen!" Amber said excitedly.
"Well, that'll certainly go a long way toward making me feel a little less guilty about having all this stuff," Cami said.
"But how would anybody pay for it?" Mia asked. She shook her head and picked at the eggs on her plate. "No one is working right now, and even if you did have money, why would she take it? What’s she going to do with it? It's not like you can jump on Amazon and order something."
“Or go to the store or the gas station. People would be stupid to take money for things right now,” Amber added.
Cami nodded. "But I'm sure there’re chores around her house that need doing. People could earn bread by working at her place: cutting the grass, repairing windows, or the roof...that kind of thing."
"Well, we do have a ready-made crew of people who just finished up repairing Marty's place,” Amber mused. “If she's got any odd jobs around her house, I'm sure some of them would be willing to help for a couple loaves of fresh-baked bread," Amber said.
"Well that's great and all, but what about Amy?" Mia asked.
"According to this,” Amber said as she tapped the thick book on the table. “She needs water or clear liquids—and lots of it—and plenty of rest. We gotta do whatever we can to get the fever to break so that her body can accept the liquid coming in and stop burning it up. If we can maintain her liquid input," Amber said as she flipped to a dogeared page in the book. Her finger skimmed down the page, and she tapped it at the important part. "Here it is. Electrolytes was a good call, mom, but she’ll need simple foods too, to help slow down the dehydration.”
“Like what?” asked Mia. “When my boys get upset tummies, I give them rice and cream of wheat and animal crackers.”
“That’s exactly what it is,” Amber said. “Plain rice, bananas, simple crackers, plain toast, cream of wheat—that kind of thing is the perfect food to reintroduce to someone suffering from extreme dehydration. After they’ve had time to drink as much water as possible.”
Cami nodded and swallowed her eggs. "I think we've got most of that stuff here—we should get together as much as we can afford to hand out and take it over to her this morning."
"Agreed," Amber said. “I can take it over—"
"Oh, no—no one's going by themselves," Cami said. "I'll go with you. Mia, do you mind staying here?"
"Not at all. I don't want to take the kids out of the yard anyway...between all the fighting and looting and everything going on, I'm scared enough as it is just to let the boys play in your backyard."
Cami nodded. “We shouldn't be too long—we’re going to attempt a contactless delivery. Let’s finish eating and we can head out as soon as everybody's ready."
An hour later, after breakfast had been cleared away, and the kitchen put back in order, Amber finalized the list of supplies they needed, and Cami packed everything. They hiked across the neighborhood in high spirits.
Merle and Amy shared one of the newer houses to be built in Bee’s Landing—it was small and had a small yard, but they didn't have any kids and were both young, working adults. To be honest, Cami didn't know them all that well because they didn't spend that much time in the neighborhood. They were both outdoorsy types and took a lot of hikes and often rode bicycles. Merle and Reese were closer, and the two fished whenever they could—sometimes on Reese's sailboat and sometimes in the neighborhood pond.
The house looked in good order, though the grass was a bit long—but so was everyone else's. Only a few people had maintained the rigorous HOA standards of an immaculate lawn during the apocalypse.
Cami knocked on the door and waited. It took a moment, but eventually the deadbolt released from the other side and the door cracked open. "Cami!" Merle exhaled in relief as he opened the door all the way.
Cami wrinkled her nose behind the cotton facemask she and Amber both wore. The odor from inside the house was positively frightful. "Is everything okay, Merle?" Cami asked as her eyes watered. Beside her, Amber coughed into her hand.
Merle quickly stepped out onto the porch, glanced over his shoulder and shut the door behind them. "Yeah, sorry about the smell...I've got all the windows open, but...I don't really know what I'm doing in there, and it's such a mess."
"How's Amy?" Cami asked.
"We brought you some more stuff," Amber said and held out her backpack full of supplies.
Merle's eyes immediately began to glisten, and he closed one hand into a fist, then opened it, and gratefully took the package. "Cami, Amber—I don't know how I can thank you enough...this is amazing," he said as he pawed through the bag.
"We did some more research last night," Cami began.
"The first thing we gotta do is break Amy's fever, so we had some spare Tylenol and put it in there for you. Go easy on it at first, okay? Just give her the minimum and make sure she takes plenty of fluids with it."
"You have Tylenol?" Merle looked up and smiled. “You sound like my doctor, Amber.”
Cami shrugged. "Well, it's expired...I meant to throw it out last year but never got around to it. But I read that stuff like that never really goes bad, it’s just a little less...potent. It's all I have now, because I never got around to buying some new stuff," Cami added quickly. "But I'm more than happy to share it with you since Amy needs it so badly."
Merle nodded, his hand wrapped tight around the little plastic bottle as if it were the Holy Grail. "I won't forget this Cami. Seriously—if you guys ever need anything, and I mean anything, you come to me. Okay?"
"It's a deal," Cami said with a laugh. "You can pay us back by making sure your Amy gets on her feet. I want to see you two riding around the neighborhood on your bikes again, you hear?"
"In the meantime, try to make sure she eats is much as possible and drinks...well all the clear liquids you can give her. Gatorade, water, broth, you name it. Even if she throws it up or whatever, keep pushing water and simple foods into her. That might save her life."
Merle nodded, tears rolling freely down his cheeks. "I will, I will! Thank you, thank you so much!"
"And do us a favor—take care of yourself, too," Amber said. "I wrote out some instructions and put it in the bag there," she said with a gesture at the bag. "You need to stay hydrated, and it wouldn't hurt to take some Tylenol, too. Mom said you had a fever last night?"
"I did, but it seems to be gone this morning—I'm still not hungry, my stomach is making all these gurgling noises," Merle said as he put one hand over his gut. "So, I don't know if I'm fighting it off, or if I'm getting worse. But I'll take your advice," he said with a weak smile.
"Works for me," Cami said, her smile hidden behind her facemask. "Take care, Merle. We’ll come check on you tomorrow, okay?"
He thanked them profusely one more time, then went inside the house and shut the door. Cami couldn't get away from the front porch fast enough and pulled the facemask down from her mouth. "Oh my gosh...did you smell that?" she asked as she took a deep breath at the end of the driveway.
"Mom, that was nasty. I mean, nasty with a capital N."
"I hope he gets a handle on that—we can’t afford to have this get out of control."
"Right?" agreed Amber. "The book says that it's really contagious, but if they got sick after drinking the water, unless somebody else is drinking the same water or helping him clean and take care of Amy, I don't know if anyone else will get sick..."
Cami stopped and looked up and down the street. The only body of water within easy walking distance between all the houses
was the community pond, a portion of which backed up behind Harriet's house and stretched across the neighborhood.
"Question is, what are all these people doing for drinking water?” Cami asked. “If they followed Merle's lead, or if he suggested that it was a good idea to use the pond..."
They walked in silence toward home, but after a few minutes, Cami couldn't resist any longer. "So, what do you think of Mitch?"
Amber looked at her sharply and almost stumbled. Red-faced, she caught herself and continued walking. "I don't know...I mean he's nice and all..."
Cami grinned and waved at one of their neighbors, who tooled around in his backyard with hedge trimmers. "Yeah...and," Cami prompted. "Oh, come on, we haven't had a good talk like this in I don't know how long—I need this, Amber—I need something to take my mind off how bad everything's getting."
Amber snorted. "Well, he is kinda cute," she said. "And that beard makes him look so...rugged."
Cami laughed as Amber blushed even deeper, the tips of her ears a bright red. "You like him!"
Amber opened her mouth to argue, then closed it and smiled coyly. "Maybe I do."
Cami put an arm around Amber’s shoulders as they walked down the road. "I'm sure glad they came back. Mitch and his father are very resourceful. Sounds like Elizabeth is, too. "
Amber stopped, which caused Cami to bump into her. "Someone’s at our front door," she said and pointed.
Cami looked down the street at her house. Sure enough, someone stood in the driveway.
"Who is that?" Amber asked.
She looked at Amber. "That's Marilyn Torrence.”
"You mean...the lady Merle was talking about last night? The one that's home with her kids because her husband took one to the hospital and didn't come back?"
"Yeah..." Cami said. "Why is she running toward us?"
Unconsciously, Cami and Amber jogged forward to meet the distraught woman as she yelled for help and sprinted toward them as soon.
“Marylin?” Cami called as they grew near.
“Cami, thank God—Merle told me you gave him some stuff for Amy. My girls are sick. They’re throwing up and...and they can’t keep anything down. They’ve both got a fever and cramps...I don’t know what to do!”
Broken Tide | Book 3 | Maelstrom Page 12
