John put his hand on Joe’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Joe, I know. But I’m staying. You gave me one more chance to do some good in this world. I still have one of my guns. You go and take care of these people.” He handed Joe a map he had drawn for him. “Godspeed.”
John turned back to his home and walked inside.
As the winter caravan of snowmobiles plowed down the street through the glistening snow, Joe heard the sound of a muted gunshot behind him. He blinked away his cold tears and drove into the sunshine.
The roads were clear of traffic, but they had to go around a few abandoned cars. As they got closer to Commerce, they crossed paths with a few trucks with winter tires and a couple of other snowmobiles. They were still 10 kilometres outside of Commerce when they turned off the main highway onto a small country road. There were some 4-wheeler, and other tracks on the roads. A few of the farmhouses had smoke coming out of their chimneys.
Chapter 34
The same afternoon that Ayesha and Zach left the museum, Pascal Donadieu sat in the dean’s comfy leather sofa. He was alone in a warm professor’s lounge with a stomach full of food, surrounded by books and games, but he was bored.
When the pandemic started, the final semester was just finishing. Pascal shared a tiny room with a basketball player studying engineering. Many of the other students, including his roommate, and most professors had died during the first wave. He was terrified that he would be next, but he didn’t die. He was one of the 15%. One of the lucky ones that was immune. Most of the remaining students and professors that had survived had left to find their families. A small group of students and one professor stayed behind. They had formed a small commune that Pascal had joined. They ate food they had collected in the university cafeteria and lived in the residence dorms. The leader of the group, Professor Valnov, was an egotistical, power-hungry, cult-like leader.
When the cool fall weather came, Valnov told the students to build a fire in the gym. Pascal had insisted that this was a bad idea, but no one would listen. Valnov told everyone what to do, but never helped in any of the chores. Pascal left the group. A pretty blond girl named Desiree left with him. The next day a group of looters had seen the smoke and raided the place. They stole most of the food the group had collected. They beat, chased away or killed the students. The raiders burned down an entire wing of the university then left. Professor Valnov disappeared.
Pascal and Desiree moved into the professor’s lounge. They stole a truck and made a trip to Home Depot, where among other things, they picked up twenty-five propane tanks and a small propane heater. Desiree knew about a food distribution terminal where they stopped to pick up copious amounts of food. They brought back all of their finds to the University where Pascal could live his fantasy. It was like being stranded on a desert island with a beautiful girl. His fantasy turned dark, however, when Desiree got sick. The next day Desiree died, leaving Pascal alone.
One week later, he sat on a comfortable leather sofa and pondered his situation. He decided to take a trip to the museum. Before the pandemic, he had worked weekends at the Commerce City Museum. He was hoping it would look good on his resume when he graduated. He was in his third year of the Bachelor of Science program, and was planning to follow this up with a one-year honours degree in Archaeology. This was supposed to be the beginning of his epic career as an archaeologist. He should have been studying past civilizations, not witnessing the extinction of one.
He got up from his chair, turned off the propane heater, and went outside to his truck. It was late, but time didn’t have the same importance anymore. He drove through the quiet dark city for 20 minutes to the museum. There were a lot of strange-looking tracks in the snow by the front atrium. A purple pick-up truck was parked outside, but he couldn’t hear or see anyone. He went inside and used his flashlight to guide his way. Most of the exhibits appeared to be intact. He nearly tripped over a badly burned dead body in the Fur Trader’s exhibit. Some of the glass shelving and enclosures were broken. As he left the room, he detected the smell of wood smoke. Pascal went outside and followed the smell to the Pioneer Cabin. He quietly walked in the dark through the slushy parking lot to the cabin. As he pointed his flashlight at the wood pile, he heard a strange spitting sound. He felt the warm wet spray from a llama’s open mouth, who was standing in front of him.
“What on earth?” he exclaimed, wiping the spittle from this face. He walked over to the front door of the cabin and knocked. There was no light inside, but he heard the sound of a baby crying.
“Hello?” he said as he knocked on the door. He knocked harder. “Hellooo!” he yelled.
The door wasn’t locked, and he opened it and stepped inside. He turned the flashlight on and found a woman lying on the couch with a baby crying beside her.
“Ma’am, are you okay?”
He felt her pulse. It was fast and she was burning up. The baby appeared to be healthy, but upset. The woman was mumbling incoherently as he carried her to his truck. He went back into the cabin and looked for baby formula without success. He brought the baby to the truck and drove back into the cold night.
A short time later, he reached the Commerce City Regional Hospital. It was one of the few places that still had electricity.
They took her into surgery, while he waited in the waiting room. A cute nurse with short blonde hair named Effy took the baby, fed, and changed her before giving her back to Pascal. An hour later, the doctor came out.
“Hello, my name is Doctor Guerroro,” he said, “Your wife was suffering from sepsis.”
“She’s not my wife.”
“We cleaned up, what I assume was a gunshot wound, and re-stitched it. We gave her antibiotics and something to help her sleep. As long as her fever goes down and the infection dies off, she should be able to get out of here in a couple of days.”
“Thank you, Doctor. Now who can I give this baby to.”
“You can take the baby home.”
“But this isn’t my baby! I don’t even know that woman’s name, and I have no idea how to take care of a baby?”
“You can talk to, Effy, here. She can give you some formula and directions to the C3. They may be able to help you there.”
“But this isn’t my baby,” he protested.
“Maybe not,” said Effy, “but you are the babysitter.”
Chapter 35
Earlier that same day, Joe and his friends pulled up to the end of a long winding driveway. Large maples lined the driveway, and they couldn’t see the house from the road. Joe stopped and pulled out his map.
“Is this the place?” asked Kevin.
“I hope so,” said Camille, who was shivering behind him, “because I’m freezing here.”
“I don’t see any tracks,” said Tank.
Earl jumped off the snowmobile. “Man, I’m cold.” He walked over to the mailbox and brushed the snow off with his glove to expose the name on the side. “Yep, it says Callaghan!”
“Hop on,” said Joe, “let’s go check it out.”
They followed Joe down the driveway lined with maples. It opened up to reveal a large old wooden barn and a yellow brick century home. The windows of the house were boarded up. They pulled the snowmobiles up to the front of the house. The dog jumped off the trailer and ran off sniffing.
Tank got his rifle out, but Joe stopped him. “We’re not here to scare anybody, so just wait here with the gun.”
“Hello!” he called out as he walked up to the front door. He knocked and called out again, but there was no response. He tried to open the door, but it was locked.
“What now?” asked Kevin.
“I assume they’re dead,” said Camille.
“Well, I have to know for sure.” He found a small rock to break the glass in the door and reached through to unlock the door. He stepped inside and called out again, but no one responded.
Camille, Earl, and Kevin followed him in, while Tank kept watch outside with his gun.
The house was cov
ered with a layer of dust. Joe turned to look at the others. “Earl, you and Camille check out the main floor. Kevin, you go look in the basement, and I’ll check out the rooms upstairs. They all nodded and followed his instructions.
At the top of the stairs was a small landing that led to a hallway. The landing had a wall with family photos. One showed Callaghan as a teen with her parents standing in front of the red barn. They all had big smiles on their faces. There was an old photo of what he assumed was her father in a soldier’s uniform and a newer one of Callaghan in hers. There was another family photo of Callaghan with her husband and young son.
He walked down the hallway and looked into the washroom and bedrooms, but they were all empty and undisturbed. He went back down the stairs and met the others at the front door. None of them had found anybody either.
“The kitchen is clean and empty,” said Earl. “All the food is gone, and it doesn’t look like anyone has been here for a while.”
“Has anyone found a note or anything?” None of them had found any indication of where Callaghan’s parents had gone.
They left the house and walked back outside.
“Let’s check the barn,” said Joe and walked through the snow further down the laneway to the big red barn. There was a large set of wooden doors at the front. Beside them was a smaller door. As Joe approached the door, he heard it unlock. When he was a couple of metres from the door, it flew open, and a double-barreled shotgun appeared, pointed at his chest.
“Don’t move.”
Joe stopped and put his hands over his head. “Don’t shoot!” He reached into his coat pocket to get the address that Callaghan had written down. “We’re here because your daughter…”
There was an ear-piercing boom, and he saw the flash from the shotgun at the same time he felt a sudden pain in his chest and fell backwards.
He landed on his back in the snow and grabbed at his chest, but realized that it wasn’t his chest. It was his shoulder and upper arm. He put his hands up in front of him. “Please,” he pleaded, “we aren’t here to hurt you.”
“Then why is your big friend pointing a gun at me?” said the woman with the shotgun.
With one hand on his shoulder and the other in the air, Joe got to his knees and turned to look behind him. “Tank, put the gun down!”
The big man reluctantly obliged.
Joe started to stand up. “Your daughter sent us.”
“Oh, yeah, then what’s her name?”
“Callaghan.” He stood up. His shoulder ached and was covered in blood.
“No, her first name, you nincompoop.”
“Um…actually, she never told me…”
“Nice, try. You need to get back on your snowmobiles and leave, now!”
“No, wait.” He spoke as fast as he could. “Your daughter is really beautiful, and has dark hair and piercing brown eyes. She had a husband and young son, and they were going to move to downtown Chateaugay this summer. She’s a corporal in the Canadian Military. I think she said her father is a survivalist, and her mother has a heart of gold.”
“Is she alive?”
“Yes, she’s fine.”
“What about her husband and my grandson?”
“I’m sorry…”
Her gun dropped a little. She looked up at the rest of the group, then back down to him. “She really said I had a heart of gold?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry for the intrusion. We can leave if you…”
“We better take a look at your shoulder.” She lowered the shotgun and looked at Tank. “If you open these big doors, you can park your snow machines inside.” She looked back at Joe. “You better come inside.” She beckoned them to follow her through the door.
Kevin and Joe followed her. Earl went back to help Tank with the snowmobiles. The dog had run off exploring.
Camille walked beside the old woman. “Are you living in this barn?” she asked.
“Not quite, my dear. Follow me.” They walked to the other side of the barn and into a small stall. The floor was covered in straw except for a large rectangular board in the centre. The board had a handle on it. She leaned over and pulled the board up. It swung open with a creak. Below it was a metal hatch with a wheel. She turned the wheel and opened the hatch, exposing a metal rung ladder leading down a square tunnel. They followed her down to a small room the size of John and Gale’s living room. It was sparsely furnished with two cots, a table, four dining chairs and a shelving unit. They spread out the best they could in the cramped room.
“My name is Mildred, but everyone calls me Millie,” said the old woman.
She got Joe to sit on one of the chairs and take off his coat, sweater and undershirt, so she could see his shoulder.
“Oh, it’s not so bad, I only grazed you.” She dabbed at the wound. “Camille is it?” she asked, “Could you be a dear and find some tweezers in the box over there on the bottom shelf?”
Mille plucked a few birdshot pellets from his shoulder and cleaned the wound with antiseptic.
“Do you shoot everyone who knocks on your door?” Joe asked, wincing as she poured the antiseptic.
“Your big friend Tank had a gun and I told you not to move…and my finger might have slipped.”
Joe reached into his pocket and handed her the paper that Callaghan had written the address on. “I was trying to give you this. Your daughter told me to find you, and…where’s your husband?”
“Robert died a couple of weeks ago. I buried him out in the backfield under a pile of rocks. The ground is too frozen to dig. I’m not looking forward to burying him in the spring.” She looked down at the note. “That is Erin’s writing.”
“I’m sorry about your son-in-law, grandson and your husband,” said Kevin. “If you have some pickaxes and shovels, we will properly bury your husband for you.”
“Really? I would appreciate that.” Her eyes were glossy as she wrapped his shoulder in gauze.
Tank was looking claustrophobic. “We should do that right now, so we can get going.”
“You should find what you need in the back of the barn, by the tractor. Robert is buried under some rocks by the big maple tree at the corner of the field, out back. That was his favourite tree, and I would like him to be buried there.”
Tank, Kevin, and Earl went back up the ladder, leaving Millie, Camille and Joe down below. Camille took the bloodied dressings and put them in a garbage can in the corner.
“Can I ask you something,” asked Camille.
Millie finished wrapping Joe’s shoulder. “Yes, dear, what do you want to know?”
“Do you really live down here? It seems a little…small.”
“I’m very resourceful,” she answered, then changed the subject. “Tell me, how did such an odd collection of individuals end up wandering into my little abode?”
Joe spent the next hour summarizing his story as Camille napped on one of the cots.
As Millie was asking questions about his adventures, they heard barking and yelling from above. They woke Camille and climbed the ladder to the barn.
They exited the barn to find Tank with his gun pointed at a teenage boy standing beside a side-by-side utility vehicle with winter tires. His one hand was holding a rifle by the barrel, the other was in the air.
“I found this intruder,” yelled Tank.
The dog stopped barking when she saw Joe.
“He’s not an intruder, you big oaf, that’s Tyler.”
Tank lowered his rifle.
Tyler lowered his hand. “What’s going on Millie, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Tyler. Erin sent them to check up on me.”
He handed her a large sack. “Here’s your stuff Millie. I even found some dark roast.”
“Thanks, Tyler. Everyone this is Tyler. Tyler here checks up on me and brings me my essentials.”
“They all shook his hand and introduced themselves. Tyler, smiled timidly when Camille took his hand, and then moved on when Tank glared at him.
“We finished burying your husband, Mrs. Callaghan,” said Kevin.
“Please, call me Millie.”
“Would it be alright for me to officiate a small service for your husband, Millie?”
“That would be nice of you, Kevin. Can we do it right now?”
“Absolutely.”
“Tyler, you’re coming too,” she told the boy.
Kevin offered his arm, and Millie took it. The two of them led the group behind the barn, with the dog walking with them. Earl walked beside Joe at the back of the line.
“Did you see all the animals in the barn?” asked Earl.
“No, what kind of animals?”
“She’s got chickens, pigs, rabbits and even a donkey!”
“Really?”
“She can’t really live down there, can she? I didn’t even see a washroom or a kitchen, and the house didn’t look lived in.”
“I don’t know.”
They gathered around the grave under the big maple tree. Kevin stood behind the small wooden cross he had placed in the dirt and recited the Lord’s Prayer. Millie spoke of some of her memories and said her goodbyes. Kevin led the group in a couple verses of Amazing Grace. Most of them knew some words, and the rest faked it.
Once it was finished, and they started walking back, Tyler asked Millie, “So, have you shown them?”
“No,” she answered.
The rest of them listened to the conversation with confusion.
“Come on,” he insisted. “It’s getting late. You should at least let them stay the night. They’re good people.”
“Oh, we don’t want to impose,” said Tank, thinking of the tiny bunker.
“What do you say, Millie?” asked Tyler, “They even helped you bury Mr. Callaghan.”
“Okay, fine,” she said. “The Good Book says we should share in our blessings.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Joe.
“I’ll show you,” she said, “but we’ll have to carry your dog down that ladder.”
She pulled some food out of her pocket and beckoned the dog over.
Black Flag | Book 1 | Surviving The Scourge Page 24
