by E. A. Darl
Peet picked up a scratch pad of paper and a pen. The first page contained a short grocery list. He flipped it over and tore out the page underneath and scrawled a short message. It said “Careful with package. Highly contagious. Use extreme caution or we will all need an SOS.” He handed it to the doctor then motioned for Alexa to give him a hand standing. He lurched to his feet then hobbled back over to the couch, sinking down with a grateful sigh. “I need to rest.”
Alexa tucked the blankets around him and tiptoed out of the room, following Dr. Song back to the shortwave set, to send their precious message.
Chapter 7
Rabbits
DR. SONG TWIDDLED WITH the dials on the short wave, fine tuning the signal until it was so thin that only someone specifically listening on that frequency would be able to find it. Still, caution dictated that he disguise the message as much as possible, to confuse anyone who might stumble across the transmission.
“Brier Rabbit to Snowshoe Hare. Brier Rabbit to Snowshoe Hare. Are your ears pointed?”
Static filled the room. He repeated the message and on his third call, the shortwave cracked. “Snowshoe Hare. How’s the weather?”
“Storm is brewing. Hot and dry as a desert yet clouds are gathering. Got us a sick buck here. Kit is fine, hopping about, checking on the grazing. Buck ran into a hedgehog, was bitten but on the mend. They pop up everywhere nowadays.”
“Same here,” said Snowshoe.” We found us a buck too, one with very long teeth. He talks a lot too. He brings a storm with him I think. Time to send him back to his den and see if he can sort through the weather signals. Maybe he can turn the storm around, with a little luck. Has connections to the weather gods, I think.”
“Does the hare have a name?”
Static fed along the signal for a moment, then cleared. “He says he is called Hotshot. Never heard of a rabbit called Hotshot. Hotshot Hare it is.”
“Well you tell Hotshot to watch for rogue rabbits when he gets back. Some are working for the processing plant, and unless he wants to end up on someone’s dinner plate, he had better lie low. There is one doe there in the main den that might be of help.”
“He has heard your words. He will be nosing around starting tomorrow. We will let him know how to recognize your den,” said Snowshoe. “Hotshot wants to know if anyone has heard from the rogue doe. The one that went to find the Jack Rabbit lair.”
Dr. Song looked to Peet, who shook his head. “No one here has heard from her. I think our buck here wants to go after her.”
“We think she has been gone long enough now. Time to bring her back home,” said Snowshoe.
“Tell Hotshot that his parcel is buzzing with potential. It is even more dangerous than he realizes,” said Brier.
“We have brought Hotshot up to speed. He knows the risks.”
“Excellent. Tell him to meet up with his old den mates in two weeks’ time. Our buck should have mended from the hedgehog bite by then.”
“Understood. A new thistle was discovered, we are sending you one too, in the next litter. Over and out.”
The line went dead and Dr. Song sat back.
Alexa giggled. “You are Brier Rabbit?”
Dr. Song smiled down at the child’s happy face and nodded. “And Snowshoe is someone you know, I think.”
“Really? How would I know them?”
“I believe he may be your father.”
The smile slid from Alexa’s face. “My father is dead.” All trace of humour was gone.
“Your father is missing,” corrected Dr. Song. “There is a big difference.”
Alexa slid off the chair she had been perched on to watch Dr. Song operate the radio. “It doesn’t matter. I hardly remember them anymore. Avalon is the only family I have.” She walked out of the room.
Dr. Song idly spun the dials on the shortwave, thinking. I could get them back together, Alexa and her parents, it could be arranged. But the Gainsboroughs had left specific instructions to the SOS that under no circumstances were they to expose the Gainsborough children to the disease. Dr. Song no longer believed that was possible to keep them safe, merely by distancing them from their parents. They may very well be safer, closer to their parents.
The disease was spreading at an alarming rate. It made the work they were doing that much more vital. If an antidote could not be found in time, their world was doomed, as was every human within it. The toll of the failing ecological systems was being felt in every corner of the world. Already they were dependent on imports from areas away from the epicenter of Solace and Melona.
A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he pushed up from his chair. He shuffled out of the radio room and back to where Peet sat, bending and straightening his leg, testing how the torn muscles of his thigh were healing. He winced and grimaced but his lips were clamped shut and he made no sound. Dr. Song took Peet’s leg and bent it at the knee then pressed his thigh to his chest then pulled it straight again. With this movement, a faint groan escaped Peet’s lips.
“Still tender with deep flexion, eh? Come, stand up.” He offered Peet his arm to steady him as he stood up. “Let’s take a short walk around the outside of the house.” He placed Peet’s shoes in front of his feet, and Peet shoved them in, leaving the laces loose.
“I could use some fresh air.” Together they stumbled out the door.
ALEXA WATCHED THE PAIR stumble out the front door and as soon as it closed them, Alexa scurried into the radio room. She had been watching Dr. Song operate the wireless unit and was confident she knew how to do it. She flipped the power switch and then spun the tuning dial until she found the exact frequency she wanted, one she had memorized by heart. The unit glowed green, indicating the unit was ready to transmit. Alexa took a deep breath, then picked up the hand held mic and pushed the button on its stem.
“Alex- I mean Alice in Wonderland, to Nivens, come in please.”
The short wave crackled and hummed.
“Alice In Wonderland to Nivens, come in White Rabbit.”
Silence.
“Alice in Wonder-” the radio receiver flashed and the voice of a young man reached her ears.
“White Rabbit is down a rabbit hole. This is March Hare.”
Alexa peeked out the window. Dr. Song and Peet were just rounding the corner of the garage. “March Hare. I need to visit the last rabbit hole that Nivens and I went to, together. There are some special carrots there that are needed for a friend. Could you have Nivens meet me at the entrance to the hole in two days’ time? This is the hole underneath the lavender patch.”
“Understood, Alice. We will send some other rabbits along to help you forage. By the way, a rabbit close to you has been found in the next den over, she was found in one of our rabbit holes but ran away. We think she may be sick. She ran into some hunters.”
Alexa’s pulse raced with alarm. “Is she ok? She is a reckless rabbit. Always sniffing at traps.”
“We don’t know. We are trying to find out. She is running with the wrong colony. There are many predators running wild in the forest nowadays. But the hunters are the worst. We avoid them as much as possible. They are snatching rabbits right off the runs. We are doing our best to learn their plans.”
“Understood. I will meet up with Nivens at this hour, tomorrow. Over and out.”
Alexa turned off the wireless and put the chair back the way it was. She ran out of the room and to the kitchen, where a window displayed a view of the rear of the house. Peet and Dr. Song had just passed by and were almost to the third corner of the house. Alexa grabbed a bag from under the sink and began shoving food into the cloth sac, then ran back to her room and shoved it into the top of her back pack with all her belongings. She shoved it back under the bed, then went back to the living room, just as the door was opening. She held it wide while Peet limped into the room. His face was ashen and he looked like he was about to throw up. He limped over to the couch and sank down into it, his eyes closing with exhaustion. Dr. Song lifted the injure
d leg, dragging a groan from Peet. He rolled up the pant leg and examined the area of stitches. They had torn and a fluid seeped from where the skin was supposed to have healed. The area around the bullet hole was red, the tissue inflamed.
“Damn!” The curse was incongruous, coming from the squat doctor. “It’s infected! I’m sorry Pete, but I don’t have any more antibiotics. We need to bathe and clean this once again. You were too long without treatment and infection was already present by the time I got to you. Alexa, fetch my medical bag, please.”
Alexa slammed the door and ran to fetch the medical bag. She knew it was low on all the necessary supplies. She had been watching the doctor treat Peet for a week now. It was why she had to go. She knew of a stash of medical supplies, and if Peet was going to recover, she needed to bring some back to the Doctor. No one else seemed to be supplying him with any. She rushed back into the room and watched as Dr. Song pulled out the last of his antiseptic cream and some clean bandages.
“Warm water, Alexa, and in the cupboard beside the sink, there is a jar that is labeled ‘Beeswax Ointment’. Bring that, also, please.”
Alexa did as she was bidden, returning with the bucket of water and a clean wash cloth, the jar of ointment tucked under one arm.
Dr. Song began to wash the wound once again as she watched. She had the routine down now and handed him the items Dr. Song needed before he asked. As she went about the chore mechanically, her resolve firmed. She would gather the supplies Dr. Song needed and make contact with her friend at the same time. It was time for her to join the fight and do something. I may be twelve, but I am no longer a child, she thought.
Chapter 8
Accusations
PAM WALKED THROUGH the encampment, waving in response to the called greetings. Her wave may have been relaxed but her steps were not. She had a bone to pick with the chief.
Pam had returned to her camp to find Mitch’s Mustang still parked where he had left it. He had never returned, but disappeared mid-trip somehow. Outwardly, she was calm but inside, anger bubbled under the surface like a capped volcano, ready to explode with the pressure. Betrayed by my own clan, my own family was her furious thought, her stomach churning with anger.
The chief’s tent was guarded by the usual contingent of warriors, who did not stop her as she pushed aside the entrance flaps. As she straightened, she found the chief standing beside a small table, pouring himself a cup of fragrant tea. He turned as she entered and a smile of greeting passed over his face. “Pam, would you like some tea?” He proffered his cup, which Pam took from him, while he poured a second.
“I am going to guess you are not here for a social visit. Your face would do well on a totem.” He walked over to a chair flanking the cold fire pit and waited for her to sit down beside him. “Now, what is your problem Pamissa?”
His use of her pet name only irritated Pam further. “You know perfectly well why I am here. Where is Mitch? You promised him safe passage!”
“And he is perfectly safe, I assure you. Why do you doubt this?”
“His car is still sitting by my temporary camp, that’s why! Where is he?”
“His presence was requested by the SOS. They wanted to talk to him. I do not know where he is specifically. But they would not harm him. They need him. I had warriors escort him to the rendezvous point.” He took a sip of tea.
Pam waited for him to continue. When he did not speak again, she prompted “Well? When is he coming back?”
“I do not know.”
“Where is he being returned?”
“I don’t know that either.”
“You don’t know. You handed him off to complete strangers, and you don’t even know if he is being returned? What if they are not who you think they are? What if they mean to do him harm?” Pam’s face flushed with anger.
The chief studied the woman before him, then sighed. “We know he is safe because the ones who took him are in charge of the caverns. They come on a regular basis.”
“Then maybe you can explain this?” Pam held up a bloodied cloth. It was a piece of Mitch’s shirt, she was sure of it. “Why would he need to be beat up, to be taken to meet with allies?”
The chieftain frowned at the offending cloth. “You are sure it belongs to him?”
Pam nodded.
“I do not know how to answer you, Pam.”
He got up from his chair and stalked to the door to speak to the sentries, then returned. He sat back down and waited. Several minutes passed and then the flap opened and a pair of young men entered. Spying Pam sitting in the chair opposite their chief, their gait slowed. The chieftain stood and went to sit in his chair of authority, then motioned for the warriors to approach him. Pam got up and joined the warriors, standing by their side.
“This woman, your tribal sister, brings a complaint of abuse to the judgment chair. You have been accused of abusing her kin during a recent assignment.” He turned to Pam. “Present your evidence.”
“I found this bloody piece of my brother’s clothing lying out front of the caves. I became concerned when he had not returned to his car as he intended to do after leaving the compound.” As Pam stated the words, it dawned on her that her argument was flimsy, something that the two warriors were quick to point out.
“You find a bit of soiled clothing and you automatically believe he has been abused?” The taller warrior threw back his head and laughed. “A city dweller, out in the wilderness hurts himself and you immediately blame your adopted kin?” The laughter fell from his face and he scowled at Pam. “I am offended at this accusation. What other proof do you have?” He folded his arms and glared at Pam.
The chieftain gazed back at Pam, waiting for her response. Instead, she took the attack.
“You deny escorting him to meet with the strangers who demanded his presence?”
“We do not deny it.”
“Then what happened?”
“He fell. City men are soft. They are not used to our rough ways of travel. No doubt he was exhausted from his earlier travels. He hurt himself, but as you can see, it did not stop him from accompanying us. We delivered him to his plane, and returned.”
“Plane? On the flats?”
“Yes. You can fetch him yourself if you wish. He is due back later today.”
Pam studied the faces of the two warriors. Their expressions gave nothing away. Stone faced and stoic, they stared her down. Pam sensed a dare in their advice.
“Fine, I will meet him then, and save you the bother. I am sure he will have a lot to say, and none of it meant for your ears.”
They stared back at her, faces impassive.
“Then it is decided,” said the chieftain. “Leave us.” His eyes followed the warriors as they left the tent. “Those two have been known to be rough on prisoners. Mitch was not a prisoner, however.”
“What if they thought he was? What would they have done, in that case?”
“They are not restricted. They may handle a prisoner with whatever force is deemed necessary. Up to and including lethal if needed.”
Pam shivered. “I will be on my way then. I want to be there when the plane lands. Do they still run on the same schedule?”
“Yes,” said the chieftain.
“Then I will be going. Thank you for hearing me out. He has been hurt, I know it. Whether provoked, or for some other reason, I will find out.” She bowed to the chief and left the chambers.
Pam had left her motor bike at the edge of the village and hurried back to it now, anxious to reach the landing strip before the plane landed. She checked the height of the sun in the sky. Three hours till sunset, she judged, and the plane usually came in about an hour before dark. She had plenty of time to arrive at the landing strip before Mitch. She climbed onto the bike and kicked it awake, and revving the throttle, spun away from the village. Eyes followed her progress that she failed to see. She vanished into a cloud of dust of her own making, the sound of the bike fading into the distance.
Chapter
9
Avalon’s Struggle
AVALON’ EYES FLUTTERED open. The light from the bare overhead bulb was swinging crazily, as though an earthquake was occurring, yet she felt no tremors. She blinked, trying to steady her vision, but it had the opposite effect. The only escape was in closing her eyes and still the world spun.
“Ahhhh!” groaned Avalon and she rolled onto her side and threw up. Or she tried to, but nothing came out.
“Hey, easy there,” said a male voice and a hand stroked her back.
“Trench?” she croaked, licking dry lips.
“Yeah, it’s me Avalon. Go easy, you are very sick.”
Avalon tried to swallow and found that she couldn’t. Her throat was swollen shut. She gasped, drawing in a deep breath that caught on the obstruction. The sensation of choking on air made her eyes open again. Panic crawled her skin and she gasped and tried to sit up. Her arms flailed and her glazed eyes bulged. Trench grabbed her arms and pushed her back down.
“She is hyperventilating around the tube. Give me a syringe, quick!” he snapped, holding the struggling Avalon down against the sheets.
Cris handed Trench a needle brimming with sedative and he plunged it into her upper arm. Avalon’s struggles weakened and then she relaxed. Her breathing relaxed along with it, allowing air to reach her lungs. Trench watched her sink back into unconsciousness, worry drawing a deep sigh from him.
“She can’t keep going like this. She isn’t able to eat.” Magnum moved up on the other side of Avalon, gazing down at the unconscious teen. “She is a wreck. Look at the welts. They nearly cover her entire body. Her skin is expanding like a balloon.”
“I know! I don’t know what else to do for her.” Trench had ventilated Avalon with a rough tube that they used in the kitchen. It was a crude effort, and one that he had only known because of his time at medical school. He had left Solace University when the economy collapsed. He had not been able to gather the required funds to continue. The middle class kids had been the first to drop out. His knowledge of how to perform the procedure came as a result of his time spent assisting his veterinarian father. His father’s practice had collapsed about the same time that he left school. When people were starving, they didn’t take their pets to see a vet when a bullet was cheap. What he had been able to do for Avalon was keeping her temporarily alive but she needed real help. “Were you able to get anyone from the SOS on the radio? Avalon needs a real doctor.”
