Shelter

by C A Bird

  “Yes, but it’s mostly good natured. I think it’s super.” She released his ankles as he started to sit up again and he fell over backwards.

  “Hey, don’t let go!” he laughed.

  “Well, don’t stop in the middle of your workout then.” She reached for his ankles again but he seized her, pulled her onto him and they wrestled good-naturedly. She sprang to her feet, took on a fighting stance and he accepted her challenge. They circled warily and before he could respond she slipped under his guard, grabbed his gi and quickly flipped him onto his back, completely amazing him with her quickness and power. It was obvious she’d pulled up at the last minute, throwing him much more gently than she could have.

  “Wow, that was great!” he told her as he climbed to his feet and the others in the room applauded enthusiastically.

  “Come on folks,” David scolded, “more fun later. Keep your discipline and go through your katas. After that, Mark, you can have another shot at her.”

  “I’m not sure I want one.” He grinned at Lori and she looked directly at him, smiling back.

  During the warm ups and katas Mark thought about their experiences in the shelter to date and admitted things seemed to be going pretty well. People were learning things they would need on the outside, they were safe and fairly comfortable and there really hadn’t been any serious problems. He had no idea how quickly things could deteriorate.

  December 4

  Arby screamed through gritted teeth, his insides tortured as if something were attempting to break out through his flesh, like the creature in Alien that devoured its way through the astronaut’s chest. Burning up and soaked with perspiration, he tossed back and forth on the bed. He was delirious, hallucinating about a long, burning tunnel, and running through a cave, crashing off walls as though trying to escape the bowels of Hell, pursued by his own demons while pursuing, in turn, something hateful. Pain shot through his shoulders, hips and joints as his body underwent the first “growing pains” since he’d been an adolescent. He felt pain orders of magnitude worse than that experienced by individuals with the most painful forms of rheumatoid arthritis. He screamed again and heard it answered from the room on the other side of the wall.

  Arby was growing and changing. He’d noticed with horror his fingers lengthening, the knuckles growing thick, the backs of his hands becoming coated with thick, coarse hair. He almost didn’t recognize his own image in the mirror, his face coarser, heavier, more animal-like. His clothing no longer fit him and he had stripped to his underwear, as had the others as they too devolved into an evolutionary precursor of human beings.

  And the radiation continued to assault them.

  One of the men died during this transformation. He’d been a murderer but felt remorse for his heinous crime, twice trying to take his own life while in prison. Unlike the others, he wasn’t a personification of pure evil. Their malevolent nature kept them alive as the radiation tortured them, assaulted their DNA and changed them into creatures that surely had ascended from the hell Arby saw in his never-ending nightmare. The previously unimaginable effects of Red Mercury were apparent in these hapless creatures, mutation proceeding at a heretofore unknown pace. Mutation and devolution without death.

  They now numbered a dozen.

  December 13

  Faye Claret clutched her abdomen and doubled over in pain. She groaned softly as she stumbled from her bathroom, where her mirror had reflected a pale and wane visage, down the short hallway to collapse onto her bed. Perspiration beaded her brow and she gasped, so short of breath she almost passed out. This was the third attack in as many days and having been vomiting bright red blood she was beginning to think the problem was serious. She didn’t have time to be sick, she reasoned, having a responsibility to the remnant as self-appointed morale officer to ensure all holidays were suitably recognized. She was planning a Christmas celebration to lift everyone’s spirits and worried that if she went to see Dr. Jim he might incarcerate her and she wouldn’t get the party planned. Still, the pain was worse than it had ever been, even worse than her last visit to the emergency room. She didn’t want to acknowledge that resuming her alcohol consumption had plunged her back into a medical crisis.

  She thrashed from side to side, trying to find a comfortable position and suddenly found she couldn’t move at all without tremendous pain. A sharp intake of breath and then a scream escaped her lips as white-hot pain stabbed through her gut. She struggled to get up, but discovered she was unable to rise from the bed. She was beginning to panic, which only increased her difficulty in breathing. With a great effort she rolled from the bed to her knees and crawled into the living area, unable even to reach her feet. She grasped the doorknob and, using all her strength, jerked the door open and crawled into the hallway.

  ***

  Chris stood in her characteristic pose, hands on hips, staring at the pathetic crop before her. The overhead lights had been changed again and it didn’t seem to improve the yield. They had harvested the “C” crop for the Thanksgiving dinner and after the feast the remainder had lasted only two weeks. At this rate they would fall behind approximately one day every three weeks, until five months from now they would completely exhaust their supply of fresh food. Possibly, it could be stretched with rationing, and by supplementing their diets with the emergency stores of dehydrated food, but Chris didn’t want to utilize their emergency supplies unless it was absolutely necessary.

  The tomato plants in the hydroponics section were actually doing slightly better and she gained some encouragement from that. She saw Samuel two rows over picking dead leaves off shoots that climbed up the wire supports, babying the crops, pruning and feeding, and trying to maintain the highest yield possible.

  The doors swooshed open and Aaron entered, a smile lighting his face as he spotted her. He waved and started in her direction when the intercom came on, halting him in his tracks.

  “Aaron Brown, please report to the infirmary ‘stat’.” The intercom seemed louder than usual.

  “Aaron, what’s going on?” Chris asked, trotting over as he reversed direction and quickly headed back the way he had come.

  “I don’t know. We don’t have any in-patients.” He grabbed her hand as they ran down the corridor and took the stairs two at a time, retracing the path he took the very first time he ventured forth from the infirmary and met Chris.

  They reached the top floor, rounded the corner and encountered a large crowd outside the infirmary.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Mrs. Claret’s real sick.” he was told.

  The crowd parted to allow him and Chris access to the infirmary. Jim was examining Faye in the next room and Mark and Jerry Thompson were waiting outside the examining room door. They had been going in opposite directions outside her room when she crawled out directly in front of them. Mark had sprinted to the infirmary to retrieve a gurney while a panicked Jerry Thompson tried to comfort Faye.

  Chris remained outside with the others while Aaron hurried in.

  “What’s wrong with her?” she asked Mark.

  “I haven’t a clue. We found her outside her door. She’s in tremendous pain.” He felt completely helpless.

  They’d waited only a few minutes when Aaron came out, “We think she has a GI bleed and she needs immediate surgery. Mark, grab the gurney in the other room. Has anyone seen Nurse Diaz?” No one had. She hadn’t answered her page.

  They filed into the room, maneuvering the gurney alongside the exam table. Faye was moaning softly, her eyes glazed over with pain. It took four of them to transfer her to the gurney and Aaron wheeled his patient into the small operating suite.

  He was extremely nervous. In his entire career he had never performed this type of surgery as primary surgeon. Dr. Jim would assist him but he wasn’t a surgeon and Aaron had performed almost no surgeries for almost four months, the most complicated being when Paul Frazier cracked his head open and needed sutures. “Damn, where’s Carmen?” he asked J
im.

  “I don’t know. We’ll have to get started without her.” He was getting out supplies, a sterile wrapped pack of instruments, medications and antiseptics. The anesthesiology machine was ready. Jim had used this particular machine before and despite Faye having lapsed into unconsciousness he would use it to keep control of her vital functions. Having had little else to do prior to this emergency, both doctors and Nurse Diaz had kept the instruments well maintained and they had all practiced with the various pieces of equipment.

  Just as they were prepping the patient Nurse Diaz hurried through the door. “I’m sorry,” she explained, “I was taking a nap and didn’t hear the page.”

  She quickly took over the prep so Jim and Aaron could scrub.

  “Carmen, please get the two units of O neg from the blood bank and have Mark check with the residents to see if anyone knows they are O neg besides the two who donated those units.”

  She hurried out and gave Mark instructions. He used the intercom to put out a call for donors. If they needed more units they would have to settle for O positive and hope she wasn’t Rh negative with antibodies to the D antigen. They had no typing sera to type Mrs. Claret’s blood.

  Freddie Hernandez appeared in the doorway, looking scared and inquiring about Faye’s condition.

  “She’s in a lot of pain.” Mark told him. “They think she’s bleeding internally.”

  “She’s been drinking, I know it.” Freddie said. “When I met her she was just out of the hospital for a drinking problem. I hoped she was better. I don’t know what my blood type is but they can have it.” There were tears in his eyes.

  Mark was pacing the floor of the room outside the surgical suite. The time seemed interminable. He felt responsible for the remnant, their lives, their futures and many of the residents looked to him for leadership even though he had never asked for any authority. Will simply wasn’t very involved in the everyday life of the shelter. He spent most of his time in the control room, which they now referred to as the Crow’s Nest, or in his room. Mark was much more accessible.

  He looked at his watch but only thirty minutes had passed. Lori came into the room and came over to take his hand. She didn’t say a word. Mark thought about what Freddie had said and about Johnny Jay telling him that someone had been stealing liquor. It could have been Faye. No one locked up anything and the bar was untended much of the time.

  The door opened and the small group knew immediately that something had gone horribly wrong. Aaron looked stricken, his brown face ashen and tears welling in his dark eyes. “I…I couldn’t save her. She’s gone. I’m so sorry.”

  Chris went to him and he hugged her. Mark felt a slight pang of jealousy but dismissed it quickly, laying his hand on Aaron’s shoulder. He could see into the room beyond Aaron. So much blood! He saw Jim strip off gloves and lean heavily against the side of the operating table looking down at Faye. They had sewn her up out of respect for the patient and the non-professional people that would have to deal with the body. There were no mortuary workers here.

  Jim came to the door. “Chris, take Aaron home. Carmen and I will take care of this. Go on. Aaron, you did a good job. There was nothing you could do.”

  He told Mark, “She had old ulcers and esophageal varices. She was bleeding from everywhere. She never told us but I suspect she had a severe drinking problem before coming here and there was evidence of a previous surgery. She had to have been drinking although I’ve never seen her.”

  Freddie left the room quickly, having heard all he needed to hear.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Mark asked.

  “You can make an announcement. Let everyone know. Thanks.”

  Mark knew he was the logical person to do it, it was his responsibility, but it was the last thing he wanted to do at this moment. Judging from the look on Jerry’s face, Lori’s tears, and Freddie’s reaction, he knew everyone would take the news hard. Faye was unquestionably the most popular person in their sequestered world. Aaron and Chris had gone out through the exam room so Mark, considering his comments carefully, opened the door, glanced down at Lori and walked out into the hallway to make the announcement.

  December 14

  This was the second funeral held in this cavern. In contrast to the first, however, the huge crowd of people threatened to precipitate live persons into the chasm. Faye’s body was wrapped in a linen shroud and was lying in the same canvas sling they used for Old Pierson. A prayer was said and several people wanted to say something about how Faye had affected their lives. Lori gave a moving, heartfelt eulogy but no one could imagine the true extent of the impact Faye had had on her. Freddie talked about his friendship with this special woman.

  Will was here, and Helen and Ernest. Helen and Faye had become friends during the almost four months they had been in the shelter.

  Aaron and Chris stood toward the back of the crowd. Aaron was still tortured about the loss, and telling Chris he would be right back he approached Will with a question. “Why me Mr. Hargraves? Why did you send me the box? There were so many doctors with more training and experience.”

  “I invited several physicians,” Will told him quietly. “They included experienced internists and surgeons. I had hoped that you would finish your surgical training under them, while learning primitive medicine from the homeopathic doctor I invited that was so close… she lived in Taos. You’re young and had very good references. And I knew your father. He and I were in basic training together in the Air Force. He was a fine man.”

  Aaron looked shocked at this, as a vision of his Dad came to mind.

  “Aaron, I’m so sorry you have been put in this position, that none of the others made it. But you need to suck it up and learn as much as you can from Jim. Faye had apparently been sick a long time. No one could have saved her even in a modern, well-equipped hospital. We need your skills.” He turned back to the funeral as Aaron moved back through the crowd to where Chris waited for him.

  Mark and two others jumped across the narrow end of the crevasse to the other side. He was puzzled; it seemed slightly wider than it was when they were previously here for Old Pierson’s funeral. That time they had easily stepped across.

  The caves were part of a cavern system that extended from the southern end of the Rockies down into the Los Alamos area. The caverns lacked the beauty and the larger open caverns that were found at Carlsbad. Nevertheless, the cave system had made the excavation of the shelter measurably easier and had provided the remnant with this unlikely burial chamber.

  The service ended, and after the crowd had left the cave, six men, three on either side of the chasm, lowered the body into the abyss to the end of the ropes. As they pulled the release, the weight on the bearing ropes ceased and Faye Claret was laid to rest, 11 days before Christmas.

  January 5

  It was one o’clock in the morning and the two people sitting by the waterfall in the farm cave conversed in low tones, although they thought nobody else was around to hear them. Three weeks had passed and Aaron was still tortured over Faye Claret’s death. He knew there was nothing he could have done but he was painfully aware his surgical skills had greatly diminished during their four months underground.

  Mark Teller stood in the shadows behind a row of hydroponics boxes. He and Chris had worked out together at the gym and she had finished her workout before him, leaving to go home and shower. He had entered the cave looking for her, when he suddenly realized she wasn’t alone, and now he stood immobile not wanting to interrupt but not quite knowing how to make an unobtrusive exit.

  “The main problem, besides the fact that I was unable to finish my medical education, is that we don’t do any surgeries here. How do you keep current with your knowledge and skills if you don’t use them?”

  “You’re still thinking of medicine in terms of your high-tech modern style of practicing. You need to lower your expectations, learn simpler, more primitive techniques.”

  “But we have a lot of good equi
pment here. We have to take advantage of it and try to maintain our skills for the future.”

  “That may be true for now, but we won’t be in the shelter forever. When we get out of here you’ll have to learn a whole new style of medicine, maybe even returning to the hands on medicine of many years ago. You may have to think more along the lines of internal medicine, rather than surgery, for treating your patients. I mean, what kind of conditions do you think we’ll find out there?” She asked him.

  “I have no idea. Are we supposed to return to our former lives and hope civilization has somehow survived? I suspect that very little of the infrastructure is still standing. How does a modern man, a doctor, react to having to step back in time? I don’t know if I can do that.”

  “Maybe it’s only the major cities that have been destroyed. I’m hoping that rural areas were spared. There could be a large number of small towns and cities with houses, schools, even hospitals still standing. Once the radiation has deteriorated we may be able to find a suitable place to live.” She said

  “You know what? In the entire time we’ve been here, I haven’t even thought about what we’ll do after we leave here. I guess I just didn’t want to think about it. Do you think there will be people alive to start over with?”

  “God, I hope so. If they were protected from the radiation, there should be many survivors including other doctors who can help you reestablish a medical community and raise the level of care.”

  “That’s probably true. Others may not be in as good a condition as we are. We’ve been fortunate to be sheltered from the effects of the radiation.”

  “And we’ve been well nourished and even exercised ourselves into pretty good shape. We just need to persevere until the conditions are right for us to leave and then we’ll see what awaits us out there. We’ll just have to do our best.”