by Chris Lowry
She broke down crying then, tiny shoulders heaving. I could see the shadows merge as her brother held her.
Then I was crying too.
I came to close to losing them again. This world, I swallowed the lump in my throat. This ever-loving bloody world.
I was going to find T, and get Anna and take my family away from it all. Away from militia, and mad Generals, and away from cults, and rednecks and river pirates.
The survivors were worse than the Z.
I felt the rage bubble and boil, the anger swelling up in a surge that threatened to take me into the red.
I fought it down by breathing. In four counts, hold for three, out four counts, hold for three. It helped. My racing heart slowed a little.
The tide receded on the rage, and I could feel the tunnel vision open up. I breathed some more.
“Did they bring guns?”
I tried to find a task we could do in the dark, some action to take their mind off of what almost happened. I needed an action too, but holding the oar was working for now.
My kids had seen more people die at my hand. Maybe they didn’t me to hug them because they thought I was a monster.
I heard the clatter of fingers on metal as they searched.
“Empty,” said the Boy.
Referring to the boat.
I fished in the water in the stern and pulled out the soaked pistol the last man had dropped before going over into the water. I would have to dry it and clean it later, once the sun came up.
“No food,” Bem called out.
I watched them huddle together for warmth as the wind picked up on the water. My wet clothes soon got cold and stiff, my body started shivering. I remembered reading a piece about a man who got out of his Jeep in a snowstorm and froze to death. I tried to recall the details of hypothermia, but I knew the core temperature only had to drop a couple of degrees before it was a problem.
Often during a long-distance race, back when I ran one hundred miler’s, I could start shivering at anything below eighty degrees. Air temp, not my core.
I knew I shouldn’t have started thinking about it because my muscles responded by contracting, cramping and twitching in spasms, shivers that rocked my whole body.
“You okay Dad?” Bem asked.
She couldn’t see me, unless my shadow was moving like a backlit marionette.
“Fine,” I chattered.
“You want my coat?”
“No Boy. Keep it.”
“We need to get off the water.”
It was good advice. I should have thought of it.
The article also said brain function decreases the colder you get. I didn’t have much to start with so if I got much colder we were in trouble.
“Distance,” I told them. “More distance between us.”
“Stay here,” the Boy told Bem and worked his way back to me across the eighteen foot expanse of the metal boat.
“You need to get off the metal,” he told me. “The cold is leaching.”
Leaches, in river water? Could I feel them on my skin?
I swatted at my legs and held the oar in a death grip in the other hand. The boy sat next to me.
“The boat doesn’t have anything in it but us. I guess those guys didn’t plan on taking us far.”
That reached me, sent off pings of worry in the base of my brain.
Just how far were they planning to take the kids?
I worked the kinks in my neck and forced the muscles to move so I could see the eastern shore. It was far enough away that I didn’t worry.
“We should stop and build a fire,” the Boy argued. “We’re all wet and cold.”
I wished we could. But a fire is what drew them to us.
And they would be looking. I couldn’t remember how many were dead, one or two on the island, a couple of more in the river, maybe a drowning also.
If they were a tight knit group, they would come after the boat.
I couldn’t recall if pirates were bound by honor, but it didn’t matter. We weren’t stopping until after daylight.
“Sunrise,” I told him.
He looked at his wrist and sighed.
“I wore a watch back when it mattered.”
“I never did,” I told him.
“I remember. But you were always on time.”
“Used my phone.”
“Want me to steer for awhile?”
I tried to shake my head and it devolved into a shivering spasm.
“Rest,” I chattered. “Sleep if you can.”
“I won’t. I can’t.”
He crawled to the stern and huddled with his sister for warmth. I stuck the handle of the short oar between my arm and torso, and curled my arms around me.
Cold again. This time though, no lucky fish camp to crawl into, no saltines and soup. Just river water and waiting for daylight.
CHAPTER SIX
I don’t remember passing out. I don’t remember waking up until I was being carried on a stretcher. I opened my eyes and stared at the sky, blue with white cloud puffs rolling overhead.
Then into a building.
I could feel the wheels jump over a door jamb, felt the rocking of the stretcher and tried to sit up.
“Hold him,” said a man’s voice.
Soft, firm and gentle hands pushed me back onto the foam mattress. White straps were tied to my wrists and held me to the metal of the stretcher.
I looked around for the kids, stomach roiling.
They were walking with the stretcher, Bem’s arm over the boy, holding him tight as they followed.
She smiled.
Not scared. Not panicked. Just a tiny smile that eased the clenching sensation in my gut.
If they weren’t scared, we might be okay.
“You can take the restraints,” I said. “I’ll lie still.”
“What did he say?” a female voice this time.
“It will take a few hours for his voice to come back,” said the male voice again.
He leaned over me. Green scrubs. Stethoscope.
“You’re in our clinic,” he explained. “You’re going to be okay.”
I felt pressure on my shins.
“Can you feel that?”
I nodded.
If they couldn’t understand me, I wasn’t going to waste my breath.
“Feet or leg?”
“Can you feel your feet Dad?”
The Boy was by the bottom of the stretcher. I looked at him, then down at where my feet were. White, shriveled waxy looking flesh under the dark skin of the doctor touching them with long fingers.
I couldn’t feel it.
“No.”
“Sounds like a no,” said the woman. I saw her then on the other side wearing a similar outfit to the man.
“You have hypothermia,” he explained.
I guessed that one. Wet clothes on a windy night on the river.
“Soup,” I grunted.
“Yes,” he nodded. “Soup and liquids. You should get feeling back in a few hours.”
“Where?”
“You shouldn’t try to talk,” said the woman. “Let the Doctor take care of you.”
“Vicksburg, Dad,” said Bem. “We’re safe.”
She smiled another tight little smile.
Safe.
I wouldn’t be sure until I could check it out myself. But that would have to wait until I could walk. Maybe my voice would come back before then.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I woke up in an empty room and didn’t like it. My memory of hospital rooms before the zombie plague was full of beeps, and whooshing noises, the sound of people bustling as they rushed about to save lives.
Here there was nothing.
I wondered if there was a map on the door saying here there be silence. It opened and there was indeed a sign saying quiet please.
Close enough.
“You’re awake,” a fresh face boy said. He had eyes that matched his green scrubs, and looked too young to be a doctor.
“I’m Zach,” he introduced himself. “Don’t get up.”
I couldn’t if I wanted to.
My legs and wrists were strapped to the bed.
“That’s a joke,” he explained as he untied my right hand.
I snatched the green scrub and yanked him close.
“Where are my kids?”
It seemed like a perfectly reasonable question. I’d just crossed half the country to find them, killed a couple hundred zombies, a couple dozen more humans, maybe more because who was keeping count.
Just that past night, at least I think that’s when it was, I fought off river pirates to save them and spent half the night frozen to the bottom of a boat to keep them safe.
Now I didn’t know where we were. More importantly I didn’t know where they were. I knew they were not in the room.
And now I was free.
Zach responded as many brave men before him had when faced with a dangerous situation.
He piddled.
I watched the stain spread across the front of his green scrubs, his leg growing darker, his face glowing scarlet.
But I didn’t let go.
Zach might be trying to play a trick on me.
I did look at him closer though.
Zach had zits. Acne, like a teenager and then I realized he was one.
Another trick.
Send in a kid to soften me up, because good guys don’t hurt kids.
“Untie my other hand,” I told him.
He fumbled the strap loose.
“Your legs too?” he stuttered. “Sir?”
The Sir made me let go of his shirt.
And the kids walked in the room with another nurse carrying a tray of food.
“Dad?” asked Bem.
“Dad,” chastised the boy.
“What happened?” the nurse set down the tray and untied my other leg.
“He woke up confused,” Zach explained.
Give credit to the kid, he was being pretty cool about getting scared piss-less. Made me respect him.
“Sorry,” I offered.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m going to go change now.”
The last one he said to Bem.
She giggled.
My daughter giggled at the pimply faced boy who tied me to the bed. Technically, I knew that he untied me from the bed, but he was making eyes at my little girl.
I should have killed him when I had the chance.
She watched him leave. I did too, ready for his next trick.
“Eat,” commanded the nurse.
She pushed the tray closer on a table and lifted the bed up with a manual lever.
I pushed off the side and sat up.
“I’m going to be okay,” I told her. “I just need clothes and we’ll get out of your hair.”
“You can’t leave yet,” she smirked with one side of her mouth, then caught my look.
“Sir,” she added.
I had to work on the glare, but maybe the scar was making me look a little meaner than I felt.
Or maybe she got it right.
Bem and the Boy weren’t coming closer either.
They stood together, close to the wall where they could watch the door and me at the same time.
“How long have we been here?”
“One day,” the answered together.
“Where is it?”
“Vicksburg,” said the nurse first. “Eat. The Doctor is going to be by in a few minutes, we’ll get you clothes and get you released.”
Released was a hold back to before. A throwback to when hospitals could almost hold you hostage unless you knew about a little thing called against medical advice.
“Where did you stay last night?”
“Here with you,” the Boy answered.
“What happened?”
Bem stepped forward then and put a hand on top of mine.
“We couldn’t wake you up,” she said. “The sun came up, but we couldn’t find a place to land the boat, and then we passed a city and they were yelling at us.”
“Natchez,” the nurse sniffed. “Den of thieves and bandits. You were lucky to get past them.”
“You wouldn’t move,” said Bem. “You just huddled in the boat and shivered. We couldn’t wake you up.”
“I thought you had been shot,” the Boy added. “You were just trying to hide it from us.”
The doctor stepped in.
“You haven’t eaten,” he looked at the tray.
Small bowl of soup. Small sandwich cut in two. A plastic container of juice.
“Do you have an appetite?”
“An appetite for answers.”
He smiled, white teeth standing out against his dark skin.
“That’s good. You have your humor back.”
“He’s got humor?” sniped the Boy.
I picked up the sandwich, dipped it in the broth and took a bite.
“Excellent,” said the Doctor.
He lifted a chart and examined it.
“As you can imagine, our resources are nowhere near where they were before. But it looks like you took a blow to the head, and that combined with hypothermia caused you to lose consciousness.”
“A pirate tried to use my skull as a baseball.”
“Sounds like them. You were lucky. They almost succeeded.”
“He didn’t. I am.”
He ran a finger along the scar line above my ear.
“This is poor stitching,” he said as he gave it a professional appraisal. “But it worked.”
“I asked her to make it a conversation piece.”
“Finish eating.”
I dipped and chewed, dipped and chewed.
Zach came back into the room with a pair of scrub tops and bottoms in his hands. He took the long route around the room to make sure he was close to Bem by the wall.
“Are those the ones you pissed in?” I reminded him about his situation just a few moments ago.
“No Sir,” he answered. “These are fresh.”
Pretending to be respectful in front of the girl, trying to impress her.
Punk.
“I can’t do a CT scan,” said the Doctor. “You don’t seem to have internal bleeding. There’s bruising and you’ll have a headache, but if you can hold food down, you just need to take it easy for a few days.”
I scarfed the second sandwich and paused mid chew.
“Did you eat?” I said to the kids.
Guilt washed up like nausea and threatened to make me vomit.
“I fed them,” Zach piped up.
He flashed a smile at Bem. She blushed and flashed one back.
I stood up and the sheet that was covering me fell way from my chest. I turned around to slip into the scrubs and heard the kids gasp. Maybe the nurse too.
“Dad!”
“I was going to ask about your back,” said the Doctor.
I felt his fingers on part of the skin, and then just pressure as he ran them over sections of damaged flesh.
“What made this?” he touched.
“Whip.”
“It’s fresh.”
“Less than a week old.”
“Someone whipped you?” the Boy grunted.
I started to turn around, but the Doctor stopped me.
“This?”
“Grenade.”
“This?”
I couldn’t remember and told him so.
“It was a rough trip to get the kids,” I explained. “I ran across some bad people.”
I turned around then and slid into the scrub top.
The look on my kid’s faces broke my heart.
The look on Zach’s face made me grin. He shivered and that made me grin more.
“I’m okay,” I assured them. “Sticks and stones.”
“Jesus, Dad,” Bem wiped tears from the corner of her eyes. “What did they do to you.”
“They tried to keep me from you.”
“They whipped you,” the Boy was outraged. “Shot y
ou. Burned you.”
“Yeah, but not all at the same time.”
I put my arms around them and pulled them close, finally, and they reached around me. Tenderly at first, as if they were afraid of hurting me more, but then tighter as they felt my grip close over them.
“I could keep you here a week, but like I said, our resources are limited. I’m sure I’ll see you around town and I’ll check on you.”
I watched the doctor leave. He took the nurse with him, I guess to check on other patients.
“What did you find out about Vicksburg?”
I didn’t want to let the kids go, but we still had a plan to make, and ground to cover.
“We were here with you.”
“Zach offered to give us a tour,” said Bem.
I glared at him.
“You want to give me a tour Zach?”
He gulped.
“Yes Sir.”
I let him lead us out of the room, and I promise it was only with a little bit of sadistic satisfaction when he kept looking back at me.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Zach wasn’t the worst tour guide a person could ask for. I would never tell him that though.
He led us out of the hospital, which was a converted school building.
What was it with school buildings in the south, I wondered. I guess they were good multipurpose buildings and close at hand.
You didn’t have to look far to find a school in almost any neighborhood. They usually had a big meeting space, and lots of smaller rooms that could be used for different things.
He led us down the street toward a strip mall of metal building storefronts. I couldn’t recall if Vicksburg had a historic district, but if it did, this wasn’t part of it. The roads were clear, lots of green space and pre-fab metal buildings slapped up and housed stores.
I thought Vicksburg had a lot of history, but there was no way to tell from this part of town.
Zach walked a little too close to Bem. The Boy noticed my glare and nudged my elbow.
“Stop,” he whispered, then snickered at my raised eyebrows as I gave him my best “who me?” look.
“I’m from Gulfport,” he was telling us. “We got hit pretty hard. But I heard about this place and when I got here, they let me in.”
“You don’t let a lot of people in?”
I wanted to hear a lot more, since I had been unconscious when we arrived. The kids could fill me in on their version of the details later, but Zach knew the city, or at least pretended to know it.
