by Ison, S. A.
Katie turned back with suture in hand and Willene removed her hand. In short order, the small wound was stitched up. Willene blotted it clean again, wiping away any remaining blood. She then coated it with anti-bacterial ointment.
While Willene was doing that, Katie began to suture the wound on Clay’s back, at his waist. Marilyn wiped and kept the area clean. Then the women carefully tipped Clay to his back and Katie began to stitch up the wound on his front.
More anti-bacterial ointment was put on each of the wounds, and then they covered them sterile gauze and taped it all into place. Marilyn continued to clean Clay up, and tended to his scraped hand. With warm soapy water, she cleaned the worst of it off.
Willene handed her long nose tweezers and Marilyn pulled out several long, thick splinters. Then she put ointment on the palm of his hand and lightly bandaged his hand.
All three women sighed with relief at the same time and began to laugh. They looked at each other sheepishly as they sat around the unconscious Clay.
“Well, I think that went well,” Katie said.
Willene and Marilyn grinned and nodded. “Thank God we had the equipment and supplies to help Clay,” Willene said, packing up her emergency first aid bag.
“I’d say we are damn lucky to have the supplies. I brought some pain meds and antibiotics with me, but I’ll have to wait until Clay wakes so I know he won’t have any kind of allergic reaction,” Katie said.
She looked down into her bag, reached in and pulled out several vials. “I’m so glad I thought to bring them before I left the ER,” she said, looking at Willene.
“That was damn fast thinking, Katie. I’m glad you did. Hopefully we won’t have much use for them, but if we need them, I’m glad we’ve got it,” Willene said.
“I’ll clean this stuff up,” Marilyn said.
“Keep all the used gauze. We can wash and sterilize them. We won’t be getting any more of those things,” Willene said.
Katie paused, and looked at Willene. “My God, you’re right Willene. I’d not even thought of that. I still can’t get used to thinking that way.”
“Me either,” Marilyn admitted.
“I’ll help you, Marilyn. We’ll get this mess all cleaned up and make Clay as comfortable as we can,” Katie said.
Willene went to the linen closet and grabbed a quilt. She laid it over Clay and placed a pillow under his head. Then she lifted his eyelids and checked him.
“Looks like he is doing okay. His respiration looks good and his pulse is good too. He’s lucky that his vest caught the brunt of that shot; he could have been so much worse if some of those slugs had got into his lungs,” Willene observed.
Katie looked at her hands; they were trembling with spent nerves. She shook her head, thinking it was a miracle indeed. She just hoped he’d not develop an infection. They couldn’t do a lot without a proper hospital.
Katie clasped her hands together, trying to stop the tremors. The violence of the last couple of days was overwhelming, and she was having a hard time with it. This poor man had nearly been killed, just for the color of his skin. She knew Clay and knew he was a good man. They’d been friends for years and had even dated a couple times.
Her world was falling apart and once again she didn’t know how she was going to cope. Fear was nearly suffocating her; she’d never come up against hate such as this, for her skin color, for her origins.
It was so inconceivable to be hated for something she couldn’t help. She’d been raised with love and she had been raised to be color blind. Race had never been a subject in her home; she saw people as either nice or not nice. She’d never judged someone on how they looked, what they believed, or who they loved.
She heard the screen door open and looked up to see Harry come into the house, dirt smeared on his face and arms. She looked around and realized that Marilyn and Willene were gone. She saw his questioning look and smiled, her lips trembling.
“He should be okay. When he wakes, I will see if he has any allergies to antibiotics and pain medication, I brought a few vials of them with me when I left the hospital.”
“That’s good. Later Boggy and I will put him into the study; I don’t think we could get him upstairs,” Harry smiled.
“Thanks Harry. I’m going to head back out to the garden to help Willy with the gardening. When he wakes, can you call for me?” Katie asked.
“Sure thing. Is there anything to eat, by the way?” Harry asked, his stomach growling like a berserk gerbil.
Katie laughed. “There is stew in that slow cooker thingy in the kitchen. I’m not sure how done it is, but there is a good chance it is. There are also some biscuits from this morning if you want to eat some of those with it. There is tea on the front porch in large jar. You’ll have to sweeten it.”
“Thanks Katie. I’m glad you are here. I’m sure both Earl and Clay will be better for it. I’m not sure what we would have done if you weren’t here,” Harry said, his eyes warm.
“There is no need to thank me. I think this house has become a haven for the unwanted citizens of Beattyville,” Katie said sadly. Tears stung the backs of her eyes.
“Well I’m thankful you are here, just the same,” Harry said, his smile holding a depth of kindness in it.
Ӝ
Hobo clasped his stomach; the hunger pangs were excruciating. He and Robby Rob had taken over Mrs. Selma Wise’s home two days before, and they’d partied hard. They’d come down hard after running out of anything that could give them a buzz.
Mrs. Wise’s body still lay in the kitchen. They had killed her because she didn’t have a lot of food in the house. She didn’t have much booze either, and Hobo had gone crazy and beaten the old woman. They had drunk what she had and eaten everything they could get their hands on. That morning, they’d looked through the cupboards again, hoping to find anything. They’d managed three cat food cans and a box of prunes.
Mrs. Wise had been thin as a cat whisker, and now Hobo knew why. He had tried to eat the cat food, but retched it up after the first bite. Robby Rob had no such squeamishness and had wolfed down the cans. Feeling like he was going to die, he’d asked Robby Rob to go find him something to eat. That had been some hours ago and Hobo was beginning to worry that Robby Rob wouldn’t return.
Getting up from the sofa, he staggered to the door. He had to find either food or drugs. He went out to Earl’s truck and climbed in. The keys still in the ignition. He turned the key, and nothing happened. He pumped the gas and tried once more, but nothing happened.
“Christ onna cracker, what the hell is wrong with this dang truck? Piece of shit,” Hobo snarled. He slammed the steering wheel with his fist and immediately regretted it. He pulled his fist into his stomach and rocked in pain. Saliva was dripping from his mouth and he bit his lip.
He opened the truck and fell out, landing on all fours. Sluggish, he got up and held onto the truck to steady himself. Black spots began to tap dance before him. Hobo bent over and retched, snot hanging from his nose, his eyes watering. A few minutes later and he stood. Using his arm, he swiped the mess from his face.
Hobo looked around. The street was devoid of people. Cars littered the road, and several dogs sniffed around. His eyes roamed the nearby houses, and he started walking toward the nearest house. He walked up to the door and opened it. He didn’t bother to knock or call out, simply walked in. A mother and two small children were startled at his entrance, their faces frozen in shock.
Hobo walked into the kitchen and began opening cabinets. He found a jar of peanut butter. He started jerking open drawers. Finding the silverware, he grabbed a spoon, then commenced shoveling peanut butter into his mouth.
“Michael!” the woman called, fear and alarm lacing her voice.
Hobo ignored her and kept eating and looking through her cabinets. He found a loaf of bread and ripped it open, then smeared the peanut butter on it.
A man came into the kitchen, holding a gun. He raised it. “Get the hell out of my house, mis
ter.”
Hobo kept chewing like a dumbstruck cow, and reached out and snatched the gun from the man’s outstretched hand. He pointed the gun at the man and shot him in the head. The woman screamed, so Hobo turned and shot her in the head too. The two children, twin boys, stared on in shock. Hobo shot the boys as well.
He turned away and went on looking in the cabinets for more food. Then he went from room to room and found the woman’s jewelry box. He pulled out all the trinkets and shoved them into his filthy jean pockets. He went to the bathroom and looked through the medicine cabinet. He couldn’t find anything good, and slammed the door so hard the mirror shattered.
He walked back into the kitchen and found the garbage. He emptied out the bag and began filling it with any foodstuff he found in the drawers and cabinets. He pulled out another piece of bread and crammed it in his mouth. He exited the house and ambled back to Mrs. Wise’s house.
Ӝ
Robby Rob walked down Broadway, looking into shop windows. There weren’t many people on the street, and the ones that were, watched him. Rob felt the hair standing up on his arm; something about the way they looked at him made his skin crawl. His dark eyes shifted away and eyed a man walking toward him. The man had a smile on his face, but it wasn’t a happy smile. It was nasty smile, a calculating smile.
“Well, hey boy, what ya’ll doin’ out wanderin’ round?” the man asked. He had a greasy mullet and a straggly blond beard. He was also missing his front teeth.
“Fuck off, asshole,” Robby Rob said, not liking him.
The man’s smile evaporated like an ice cube in hell. He pulled out a gun that had been tucked into his pants. “You’uns is under arrest, boy,” the man said, a nasty grin beginning to form.
Robby Rob looked the man up and down and laughed. “You’uns ain’t no po po.”
“I am, boy, an’ you’uns is under arrest,” the man laughed.
“What am I spose to be arrested for?” Robby Rob asked, not liking the fact that the man kept calling him boy.
“You’uns being ’rested for bein’ black, boy,” the man said, and barked out a laugh.
“Is you’uns crazy, dude?” Robby Rob laughed, shaking his head.
“Yeah, boy, I is crazy, but you’uns is still under ’rest. Now come ’long with me or I’ll shoot your’uns sorry black ass.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Clay felt hot breath on his face. He opened his eyes. Brian’s nose was a half inch from his nose. He blinked several times and the dog licked his nose. He jerked his head back and groaned. He looked up as a man appeared from another room. He wondered if the men had caught him. He was lying on the floor and felt vulnerable.
“You’re awake. How are you feeling?” the man asked, a kind smile on his face.
Clay looked up at the man. He didn’t recognize him, but Brian seemed calm, and Clay knew that if Brian was okay, he was okay. He tried to speak, but his mouth was cotton dry, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. He watched as the man left the room. Beyond the door was a kitchen, and a pitcher stood on the counter. As he watched, the man picked up the pitcher and a glass and came back into the room.
Helping him sit up, the man held the glass and Clay drank greedily from it. He could feel the liquid sliding down his chin and pulled his head back. The man laid him back down.
“My name’s Harry Banks. You’re in my home. Do you remember what happened to you?” the man asked as he took a seat on the couch beside him.
“My name is Clay Patterson, and several days ago my cruiser died. So me and my dog, Brian, had to walk back to town. The thing is, I found quite a few disabled cars. Do you know what is going on?” Clay asked, sure he wasn’t going to like the answer.
“I’ll fill you in after you tell me what happened,” Harry said kindly.
“Sure. Anyway, we had to stay at some old guy’s home the first night, real nice fella. So, me and Brian kept walking and we slept in the woods, and then kept walking. Christ, my feet were killing me. Pops, the old guy, gave me sports shoes, but they only helped a little.” Clay’s voice was beginning to get scratchy.
Harry grabbed the glass of water and helped Clay up to drink again. Clay thanked Harry, and was laid back down again. “So, while walking, I’d not seen anyone, I mean anyone in a car. Then this truck drives up and a bunch of rednecks were in it. I asked them if I could have a ride. The guy had a shotgun and looked like he really wanted to kill me.” He wiped his mouth with his uninjured arm.
“They did want to kill you, trust me,” Harry said, his hands hanging limply between his knees. “We believe that a widespread solar flare hit Earth five days ago, causing what we believe to have been an EMP. It has knocked all electrical components out; we think the whole of the U.S., and perhaps the world.”
“Oh, my sweet baby Jesus, are you sure?” Clay asked. He felt as though someone had hit him in the gut.
“As sure as we can be. Everything, our smart phones, cars, electrical grids, at least locally, is down. We’ve not seen nor heard any airplanes flying over. Being in the mountains, we are cut off. But as far as we know, we are down hard,” Harry said.
“Yeah, I can believe it. I felt like the only man on Earth while out there,” Clay said, a small tremor of remembrance running through him.
Harry pressed on. “Apparently Sheriff Yates and Mayor Audrey have taken over Beattyville and turned it into a KKK haven. Looks like they are killing all non-whites,” Harry explained, his multicolored eyes glaring. “Those men shot you because you’re black. Apparently, they felt free enough to chase you down. Unfortunately for them, they chased you onto my property, and your dog led us to you. You’re lucky he was with you. I shot one of the men. Looks like they are part of or affiliated with the KKK. There are several other people living here; you may know them. I grew up here, but I’ve been away the last few years, serving in the army.”
Clay was stunned. He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t very surprised to hear about the sheriff and the mayor; their barely concealed contempt for people of any color, and their off-color jokes, had made it clear what they thought. But the power down forever? It was all making sense, given all the abandoned vehicles and lack of people.
“How long will the power be off, do you think?” Clay asked. He already knew the answer, but really wanted to hear something different.
“It may well never come back, Clay, at least not here in the remote mountains. Maybe in larger cities they may get it back, but that won’t be for years. And I’m fairly certain the cities are in ruins by now, with deaths aplenty. We discussed it here a few days ago. No electricity means no water for most, and no food,” Harry said, shrugging.
“I have a lot of food at home. If we could get there, we could bring it here,” Clay offered.
“Thanks. If we can get to your house, we will look. For now, though, I think it is best we stay put, at least until you are up to showing us the way. But know that people are going to be out scavenging for food and may well have found your supplies. There may be nothing left, as it has been five days,” Harry said.
“Damn it. I can’t believe this is happening. What the hell am I going to do?” Clay asked, his voice trembling, strain causing his voice to crack.
“Don’t worry, Clay. This is your home now. We have enough food for all of us, and I think we will need your help and expertise to help keep us all alive,” Harry said, a warm smile on his face.
“Thank you, Harry, thank you. I remember you now, from high school. I was a freshman and you and your sister, Willene, were seniors. You’ve changed a lot, grown up.” Clay smiled, then gritted his teeth against a flare up of pain.
“Are you in any pain, Clay?” Harry asked, his heavy brows drawing together.
“Yeah, I am,” Clay said, suddenly feeling weak and tired.
“I’ll get Katie and let her know. She said she has some pain meds,” Harry said, standing up.
“Katie’s here?” Clay asked, trying to sit up, then groaned and lay back
down.
“Yes. Someone was trying to kill her as well. They killed her parents, the cowardly bastards,” Harry said, fury flushing his face red.
“Lord have mercy. What is this world coming to?” Clay said, feeling the breath knocked out of him once again.
“I’d say it’s going to hell in a handbasket. I’ll go get Katie.”
Clay lay back, his hand absently stroking Brian’s head. It was so much to take in, and so unbelievable. His heart broke for Katie. He’d known her parents. They’d been wonderful people and he knew Katie had been close to them.
He looked around the room. All the windows were open and a breeze was blowing in. He could see out the screen door onto a porch. He looked back into the kitchen. It was a tidy home, and big. It was now his home, and Clay knew he was damn lucky to be there, and to be alive.
Ӝ
Katie watched, fascinated, as Willene and Marilyn filled a large metal tub with hot water. Two large metal tubs sat on lumber racks. The small metal handles of the tubs had larger wooden handles attached to them, and could be levered to tip the dirty water out onto the ground below. Below the tubs was a gravel bed that covered the area, ensuring the ground didn’t get too muddy. The tubs were roughly waist high, about three feet.
She’d been told that Boggy had built them a makeshift laundry out by the clotheslines. He had also built a fire pit, so the water could easily be heated and dumped directly into the tubs.
“That is a nice little operation you have here,” Katie said, taking note of the stacked cinderblocks and heavy grate that sat on top. There was a fire burning below, and a stack of firewood nearby, with buckets of cold water waiting to be heated.
“Boggy was such a sweetie for setting this up for me,” Willene said. “I told him we needed to set something up to wash clothes. I wanted to put heated water into the large tub, but I needed something to heat the water with. What is really nice is each tub can be used to wash, rinse or soak clothing, whatever you need to do.
“That really makes it handy, to boil or heat water outside, and that large pot can hold quite a bit of water,” Katie said, admiring the set up.
