Sweeping aside cough medicine and toilet bowl cleaner, Jake grabbed a bag of cotton balls and some razors he’d missed on his first check and then sat back. “No syringes here. It was a long shot anyway.”
“What about this?” Alice held out a small bottle of nose drops.
At first, Jake didn’t know why a bottle of nose drops would be valuable, then the little girl unscrewed the top, pulled out the dropper, and squirted the contents into the sink. It wouldn’t be as good as a syringe, but he could at least measure out the saline and squirt it into Marcy’s wound with some force.
“That might just work,” Jake said with a satisfied nod, and he took the dropper from Alice and went downstairs to bottle up the cooled saline.
They picked up the bottles of saline and other medical supplies and went to find Marcy. She was in one of the bedrooms where Timothy had fallen asleep. The woman was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at the boy with a loving expression. Timothy’s mouth hung open and his chest rose and fell heavily as he slept.
Jake hoped he was dreaming of better things than being led through a ruined city by complete strangers.
Marcy looked up at Jake with glassy eyes, and Jake offered a wan smile. It was a peaceful moment, suddenly broken when Alice pushed past him and placed the medical supplies on the bed next to Marcy. Jake held one of the saline bottles up and shook it quietly.
“Think it will work?” Marcy whispered as he came over.
“I think it will work great,” Jake said, also whispering. “We can get your wound cleaned out and kill some bacteria while we’re at it.”
“Good, because it’s starting to really hurt.” Marcy winced as she turned sideways on the bed, put her right leg up, and pulled back her shorts to reveal the wound.
“Alice, put that towel under Marcy’s leg,” Jake said.
Dutifully, Alice lifted Marcy’s knee and slid a towel beneath it. Alice straightened out the towel and allowed Marcy to place her leg flat again.
Jake sterilized the dropper by drawing up some alcohol and shaking it around. He squirted that out and then drew some of the saline out of the bottle. Holding the dropper over Marcy’s wound with one hand, Jake spread the cut open with the other. Then he put the tip of the dropper deep into the cut until Marcy whimpered in pain. With a squeeze of the soft end, the saline squirted into the wound and gushed over the sides, bringing with it more yellow pus and even a few particles of dirt that ran down Marcy’s leg onto the towel.
“It really worked,” Alice said in an awe-filled tone.
“And just in time, too.” Jake’s heart had skipped a beat when he saw how much of the infection had come out on the first squirt. If they’d let it go any further, Marcy would have probably been in big trouble.
Jake flushed the wound out three more times until there was no more pus, dried it, and then re-bandaged it. “That’s it.”
“Thanks, you two,” Marcy said. “I’m not sure what I’d do without you.”
“What now?” Alice asked.
“We all need to get some rest.” Jake looked back and forth between Marcy and Alice. “And then we’re going to get out of this city once and for all.”
“What about Mom?” Alice’s voice was almost a whine, and Jake could see true fear and uncertainty behind the little girl’s normally confident gaze.
“The important thing right now is to get you and your brother to safety.” Jake gave Alice the same look he gave his own daughter to let her know he was going to come through for her. “If we can’t find your mom on the way out of here, then the authorities will. I just know we can’t stay here, understand?”
The little girl nodded, but the tears in her eyes told Jake she didn’t understand at all.
Chapter 16
Sara, Gatlinburg, Tennessee | 4:17 a.m., Thursday
“Sara, wake up. I saw someone out in the woods. Wake up.”
Sara heard Dion’s voice and felt him shaking her shoulder gently, yet the shadows were disorienting and the bed she lay in was unfamiliar.
Then she smelled her daughter’s hair and felt her warm body pressed against her chest where they’d fallen asleep in a spoon position. There was a battery-powered night light on the nightstand, and rain pattered against the metal roof above them.
She was in her daughter’s room, and Dion was on overnight watch.
Sara lifted her arm from around Zoe’s waist and turned onto her back. “What time is it?”
“It’s around four fifteen,” Dion said, his face impossible to read in the darkness. “I think, no, I definitely saw someone out by the generator shed.”
“Okay,” Sara said, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed.
Dion stepped back as Sara pulled out the top drawer of the nightstand on her side and retrieved her Beretta and its magazine. She gently slapped the magazine home and pulled the slide back to chamber a bullet before she gave a brief nod to Dion to show that she was ready. He nodded in reply and then led her out of the bedroom and down the stairs. He’d chosen a small hand ax as a weapon but hadn’t asked for a firearm. Sara hadn’t offered one either.
The cabin was quiet and dark because Sara had shut down the generator before they’d gone to bed, limiting everyone to night lights only. And that was only so they didn’t injure themselves walking around the house in the dark.
In the entryway, Sara slipped on her boots, tied them up, and grabbed a flashlight off of a small table, nodding to Dion once she was ready. Dion opened the front door and led Sara out onto the porch. The rain fell gently, and to Sara it sounded eerily quiet since all they’d heard was a near constant downpour for the last week.
She shined the flashlight all around the yard as she walked toward the end of the porch where she could see the generator shed. “Where did you see him?”
“Right over there,” Dion pointed. “He came from the creek and up through the trees to stay hidden. I didn’t see him for a minute or two, then I heard someone messing with the locks on the generator shed. That’s when I came to get you.”
Sara directed the flashlight to where Dion was pointing and then let it settle on the shed. “Looks like whoever it was left.” Then Sara stepped off of the porch with her Beretta in one hand and the flashlight in the other. “Let’s go check it out.”
Shoulders tensed and ready for anything, Sara swiveled the flashlight back and forth as they walked so they wouldn’t be surprised by someone coming out of the woods. When they got to the shed, she shined it down on the wet grass and mud. “There are definitely boot tracks here,” Sara said, “but they could be any of ours.” She bit her lip as she thought about how to confirm what Dion saw. Then she had it. “We haven’t been out around the back of the shed in a few days. It’s nice and muddy, and most of our old tracks would have been washed out by now.”
They went around to the back of the shed, and Sara aimed the flashlight beam down at the mud. Sure enough, there was one set of footprints cutting a clear path out of the forest, to the back of the shed, and then around to the front. But they weren’t man-sized footprints. Sara found a single clear footprint and made an impression of her boot next to it. When she lifted her boot and stepped back, she could see that the footprint was closer to her own shoe size, not that of a large man. On top of that, the footprint was of a sneaker and not a boot.
“It was a woman,” Sara said, looking around.
“I definitely got my proportions wrong,” Dion said, scratching his head.
“It’s easy to do out here alone, especially at night when you can’t see very well.” Sara raised the flashlight and shined it on the dripping trees and small tributaries of water running down to join the creek. “I wonder who it was?”
“Do you think it was that man’s wife? The man with the gun?”
“I don’t know,” Sara said, then she shook her head in confusion. “If it was, I wonder why she didn’t just come up to the door in the daytime instead of sneaking around and risking getting shot. She
knows we were trying to be friendly when we came to their door the other day.”
“Maybe she doesn’t know this is your place,” Dion said. “Or maybe it wasn’t even her. Who knows?”
“Yeah, who knows?” Sara said, sweeping the flashlight around one more time before she turned and started back to the house. “In any case, good job.”
“No problem, Sara. I can finish my watch, so you can go back to sleep if you want.”
“I doubt I’ll be able to sleep now,” Sara said, “knowing someone was creeping around the yard. I think I’m going to make a pot of coffee and stay up. Join me?”
“I’ll make some breakfast, if you want,” Dion said.
“I want to save the last of the eggs and milk for the kids,” Sara said, then she flashed Dion a wicked look. “I can treat you to an MRE breakfast skillet like you’ve never tasted.”
“You mean one of those military meals?” Dion was trying to keep his tone positive, but there was a hint of fear in his voice. “Are they any good? I mean, what do they taste like?”
“It depends on who you ask.” Sara gave him a pointed look and turned the flashlight up to cast her face in a ghostly glow. “I’ve always found them pretty tasty compared to starving.”
“Good point.” Dion chuckled as they walked up the porch steps and into the cabin.
Chapter 17
Jake, Boston, Massachusetts | 5:10 a.m., Thursday
“Ready?” Jake asked Marcy as he held the dropper over her cut. It already looked a lot better and less irritated than the day before, but he wanted to flush it out again after the first good night’s sleep they’d had in days.
“Ready,” Marcy confirmed with her lips pursed tightly together. She was laying back on her elbows with her leg thrown up on the bed over a towel.
They’d left the kids to sleep in their own room last night while Marcy slept in another bedroom and Jake took first watch. He could have gotten her up earlier to change shifts, but he chose to let her sleep a few extra hours. She was the one with the infection, and her body would need every bit of rest it could get to fight it. Jake only needed five or six hours of sleep before he’d be ready to pack up Marcy and the kids and head west once more.
Jake chuckled and shook his head as he spread open the cut and prepared to wash it out again.
“What?” Marcy asked with a bemused expression.
“I was just thinking about packing you and the kids up and hitting the road. Just like I would my own family. You know, for a vacation or something.”
Marcy’s grin widened and she looked over toward the window with glassy eyes. “Some family we are, right?”
“A family of total strangers stuck together in the middle of a mess,” Jake said, focusing on the wound again. “Strange how circumstances can throw people together.”
“Well, I’m glad it’s you and these amazing kids who I’m stuck with.” Marcy sniffed and looked all around. “I’ve even started making you a honey-do list for our new place.”
“Oh yeah?” Jake asked as he squirted saline into Marcy’s wound. Some pus came out and ran down onto the towel, though it wasn’t as bad as yesterday, and it didn’t smell at all. “What’s first on the list?”
“First thing you’ve got to fix is that huge hole in the family room ceiling,” she said. “I mean, how are we going to have movie night with the rain dripping on our heads? Sure, there’s no electricity, but maybe the kids can put on a show.”
“A true family night, Medieval style.” Jake smiled. “My Zoe went through a phase last year where she wanted to be a dancer. She made us sit through so many recitals.”
“Oh boy,” Marcy said, rolling her eyes.
“Yeah, and she’d change outfits after every song, too.”
“What a diva.”
“Totally.” Jake sat back and remembered those moments as if they were yesterday. “Still, you know what? It was great.”
“I guess I’ll find out what you mean soon enough,” Marcy said. “My kids will be getting old enough for phases, soon.”
Jake leaned the saline bottle to the side and dipped the dropper in, getting the last of the fluid at the bottom. Then he went back to Marcy’s wound and prepared to flush it again.
“So, how do you know how to do all this stuff?” Marcy asked.
“All what stuff?”
“Like how to make saline,” Marcy said. “How to clean wounds. How to fight and shoot guns. It’s like you’re one of those survivalists or something.”
“My wife Sara and I are part-time preppers,” Jake said, matter-of-factly. “We built a cabin up in the Tennessee mountains to store some goods and have a place to retreat to in case the world turned upside down.”
“Which it has.”
“We built the cabin together, but Sara does most of the work now,” Jake said. “She keeps the place stocked and knows exactly how many supplies we have. I make sure the generator is in good working order and we have the tools we need. We may get into growing our own foods soon, though we’re not there yet.”
“And what about your shooting and fighting skills? They’re pretty impressive.”
“I’ve shot guns since I was a little kid,” Jake said with a shrug. “My dad used to take my brother and me to the range all the time. We got pretty good. As far as the fighting goes, I know some basics, but it’s mostly luck.”
“I’d hardly call it that,” Marcy scoffed. “When you head-butted Luis, I swore I heard his skull crack.”
“That would be my temper,” Jake said, raising his eyebrows at her. Then he held up the saline bottle and shook it. “All out. I’ll go down and get the other bottle. I’d like to flush this out one more time, then I’m going to sleep.”
“Okay,” Marcy said.
Jake stood up on stiff knees and turned to leave the room, but when he got to the door Marcy stopped him with a “Hey.”
Jake turned to see her looking up at him from where she sat on the bed. Her shoulders were slightly slouched, and he imagined the weight of their situation was taking a toll on her spirit.
“You’re doing great by us,” Marcy said, her dark eyes full of gratitude. “Me and Alice and Timothy. I’m sure Sara would be so proud. I just hope I make it through this so I can remind her how amazing you are.”
“And you’re a warrior,” Jake replied, feeling slightly uncomfortable at her compliment. “We wouldn’t have gotten this far without your quick thinking back there at the X-Gang camp.”
“We’re both pretty tough, right?” Marcy’s smile broke through some of the dourness of their situation.
“We’re tough for sure,” Jake said. “Just stay positive, like you are.” Then he held up the empty saline bottle again. “Be right back.”
Jake quietly walked down the hall and descended the stairs. The thick carpet absorbed the sound of his boots, the softness only making him sleepier. His eyelids had been drooping all night, and he looked forward to finally putting his head down for some rest.
He stepped into the entryway and turned toward the kitchen, freezing as his eyes flew open in surprise.
A man was kneeling on the kitchen floor, peering into the cabinet beneath the sink. He was rooting through the household cleaners and boxes of garbage bags and scrubbers, totally unaware that Jake was standing right there. The man was dressed in wet jeans and a dark denim jacket that was torn and ripped in places, but Jake saw the familiar tattoos running up the man’s neck and on the backs of his hands as he removed things from the cabinet and set them aside.
He was one of Tre’s people, an X-Gang member.
A hundred thoughts flew through Jake’s mind at once, his body frozen in the moment. Then the man looked up at Jake, jerked back slightly in surprise, and reached for something inside his jacket.
The idea that the man had a knife or a gun shocked Jake’s body into motion, and he crossed the space in two strides, kicking the man in the chest as he drew out a long, wicked-looking knife. Jake’s boot didn’t make solid contact
. Despite that, it was enough to send the man sliding back into the cabinets behind him.
Jake started to rush him, but the man had held on to the knife, and he stood up and brandished it, using the counter to hold himself up while he shook Jake’s kick off.
Not wanting to get himself stabbed, Jake backed up, pulled his gun from his belt, and aimed it at the man with his finger resting on the trigger.
“Drop the knife,” Jake said with a growl in his tone.
“You fire that thing…” The man grinned and waved the knife around as he edged closer to Jake. “Everyone within a quarter mile will know you’re here. There’s a dozen of my brothers and sisters all around you, man.”
“I’ve got enough bullets for all of them,” Jake said with a shrug. “Now, you can drop the knife and live, or keep holding on to it and I put a hole in your belly. It’ll take a long time to die, and X-Gang doesn’t have any doctors around. I know that for a fact.”
The man’s expression turned dark, and for a moment Jake thought he would rush him, but then the man relaxed, held out the knife, and dropped it on the floor with a clatter.
“Kick it over here,” Jake ordered, and the man did as he was told. Jake picked up the knife, tossed it in the dining room behind him, and backed up a few steps, calling out to Marcy while keeping his gun trained on the man the entire time. When Marcy showed up at the top of the steps, he said, “Bring down the duct tape. We’ve got a visitor who needs to be trussed.”
Marcy’s eyes widened briefly, but she nodded and ran back down the hall to get the duct tape. Several distant voices reached Jake from outside, and he glanced to the left to see that one of the windows in the dining room was open. He thought Marcy had checked all the windows, yet it appeared she’d missed one in her weariness. That must have been how the man got in.
“You’re the one Hawk is looking for,” the man said. “You should just come back with me voluntarily.”
Weathering The Storm (Book 2): Surge Page 10
