The Journal (Book 6): Martial Law

by Deborah D. Moore

  Between John, Kevin, and the young man who directed them there, they were able to assist everyone into the back of the transport truck. Without having been told, Kevin had added a dozen emergency blankets, which their new guests promptly and gratefully wrapped themselves in. Twenty minutes later, John pulled up to the processing center, leaving the vehicle there with Kevin to help with the survivors.

  ***

  “Excuse me,” a young woman said, looking at the line of motorhomes behind John. “I’m Cameron Cole. Which trailer is mine?”

  John looked her over. She was tall, perhaps five foot eight, with short black hair, gray eyes, and skin the shade of melted caramel. She dragged a battered suitcase behind her and carried a large black purse slung over her shoulder. She was stunning.

  “If you go through processing, they will assign you a temporary cot in the women’s tent, ma’am. The motorhomes are reserved for staff. Sorry.” He turned to leave.

  “Let me start over. Hi, I’m Doctor Cameron Cole.” She held out her delicate hand to John. “CeeCee for short.”

  “My apologies, I didn’t realize our new doctor had arrived.” He took her hand; it was warm and soft.

  “Didn’t Dr. Williams tell you I’d be coming?”

  “Sure, we just didn’t know when. I must say you’re a lot prettier than Doc Williams,” John laughed.

  She frowned. “You didn’t get a fax I’d be here today?”

  “Not that I know of. Come on, let’s see where Hank wants to put you.”

  “You’re not Commander Coulter?” she asked, surprised.

  “No, I’m John Tiggs, second in command,” John said with a wince. He was still having trouble adjusting to his new position. “By the way, Doc, how did you get here?”

  “A helicopter dropped me off a half hour ago. I had to walk in from the landing area. If you didn’t know I’d be here today, that would explain why no one met me.”

  “I was out picking up some folks that couldn’t walk any further, which is why I didn’t see the bird come in. We’ll try to do better. We are really happy you’re here. Harris will be especially happy.” John took her suitcase and led her to Hank.

  “Who is Harris?” CeeCee asked.

  “Our medic. Nice guy, tries hard. He can stitch someone up but I wouldn’t want him setting a broken bone or doing an appendectomy on me.”

  ***

  “My apologies for missing the fax, Dr. Cole,” Hank said. “We got busy with refugees early and it’s been non-stop. John, pick one of the empty motorhomes for Dr. Cole, preferably the one Dr. Williams had, although they are pretty much the same.” He turned back to their new doctor. “The infirmary is already set up for you and John can fill you in on the dining schedule. So the crew can meet you, perhaps it would be best to have dinner in the mess tent today. After that you can get a tray and eat wherever you want.”

  ***

  “Hank isn’t usually so abrupt, ma’am, he’s really busy right now though,” John said, opening the door to one of the campers for CeeCee.

  “Not a problem. I’m going to leave unpacking for later, so if you can wait a moment, I’d appreciate you showing me to the infirmary.” On her way out of her new digs, she tied a scarf to the handle of the door.

  John raised his graying eyebrows in askance.

  “They all look alike to me,” Dr. CeeCee laughed, “and I don’t want to walk into the wrong one late at night!” She slung her purse over her shoulder and fell in step beside John.

  “Your purse would be safe in your camper, ma’am.”

  “It’s not a purse, John, it’s my not-so-little black bag…and it’s full of drugs.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “You’ve been here for almost two weeks, CeeCee,” Hank said. “Are you settled in? Do you have any complaints or suggestions we can help with?”

  “Everything is fine, Hank, thanks for asking. Whenever something has come up, I asked John. I hope that’s okay. I’ve done duty at three other FEMA camps and I’m always referred to the second in command, so I thought I would start there this time,” Dr. Cole answered. “There isn’t anything out of the ordinary here. The usual sunburns, cuts and scrapes, broken bones, or dehydration. Anyone with any real illness, like heart issues or diabetes, has already died off from the lack of medication, unless they stockpiled some before the Madrid quake. I can treat infections that might otherwise kill someone with antibiotics. Otherwise, it’s much like seventy-five years ago, only cleaner. I will say that for a much smaller camp, you are as busy as a larger compound.”

  “I think our busyness is because we are a first in line unit. We get a great deal of traffic, especially foot traffic,” Hank replied.

  Hank, John, Dr. CeeCee, and Sam were sitting around the table in Hank’s motorhome. “Now that you’re officially one of the senior staff, may I offer you a nightcap?”

  “Oh, that would be delightful!” CeeCee said. “Spiced rum for me if you have it.”

  John inwardly flinched. Spiced rum was Allexa’s choice too. He stood and got bottles out of Hank’s cupboard, while Sam added ice to four glasses.

  “If ever you need something and can’t find John or Hank, please come to me and I’ll do my best to take care of whatever you need.” Sam smiled warmly at her, setting a short glass in front of her. Sam tried not to be obvious, however, he was deeply smitten by the beautiful doctor, and everyone else knew it too.

  “So when will the first load of refugees be taken to Oklahoma City?” CeeCee asked Hank. She took a sip of the potent drink and audibly sighed.

  “Considering the limited fuel, we try to wait until the buses are full, which should be a few more days. Even if there is still room, I think they’ll go by the end of the week. We’ll need the space and the time to clean up before the next wave,” Hank said.

  ***

  John, Sam, and CeeCee left Hank’s camper well after dark and made their way by the brilliant light of the full moon.

  “See you in the morning,” John said, bidding goodnight. The vibration under his feet caused him to instinctively flex his knees to keep his balance. Sam clutched CeeCee to keep her upright during the few moments the quake rumbled.

  “What the hell was that?” CeeCee asked, not yet freeing herself from Sam’s protective embrace.

  “That was an earthquake, doctor,” John said calmly. “A minor one, I’d say, though it might have been fairly close. A few miles at the most.”

  “You’ve been through these before?” she asked, her voice trembling.

  “Several times. It’s not really a big deal. Don’t worry, we’ll check the area in the morning, see if there’s been any damage,” John assured her. Another light vibration was felt and was gone as quickly. “Only an aftershock, goodnight.” He closed his door behind him.

  Sam walked CeeCee to her camper and gave her a hug. “John’s right, don’t worry about it. We’ll check it out in the morning.”

  “Sam…” She looked up at him. “Please don’t leave.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “What are your plans for the day?” Hank asked over their morning coffee planning session.

  “I think Sam and I should check the surrounding area for any signs or damage from last night’s quake,” John said. “I’ll have Kevin and Carl check the compound for any broken dishes.” He chuckled and took a sip of his black coffee.

  Hank looked up sharply. “What quake?”

  “About ten minutes after the three of us left you there was a fairly strong tremor. You didn’t feel it?”

  “I dropped into bed the moment you guys left. I didn’t feel a thing.”

  “Lucky you, although I think Sam was the one that got lucky last night,” John chuckled. “Doc was pretty shook up.”

  “You mean…?”

  John snickered. “You haven’t noticed the way he looks at her? That man has it bad.”

  Sam knocked on the door and let himself in. “Got any more of that coffee?” He yawned.

  “What’s
the matter, Sam, didn’t you get enough sleep last night?” John chided him, setting a full mug in front of him and laughed when Sam blushed.

  “Enough,” Hank said. The edges of his mouth twitched in an attempt to hide his smile. “Maybe you two should grab something to eat and do some scouting of the area. Safety first. And stay together.”

  ***

  “What direction do you want to start with, John?” Sam asked, munching on a breakfast sandwich of canned bacon and scrambled eggs made from a powdered mix. Although Seth had restocked dozens of fresh eggs from the last sizeable town they had been through, the rule they had was nothing fresh for themselves if they couldn’t or wouldn’t share it with the refugees. Fresh eggs, fresh meat, lettuce, and tomatoes were saved for the hardworking crews whenever possible. The exception was when someone managed to have a successful hunt.

  “Logically, the quake would have been centered west, maybe northwest. This area is too hilly to go cross-country, but I remember a two-track off this main road from when I had to pick up those stragglers. Let’s see where that takes us.”

  They drove in silence, which Sam was grateful for, until the two-track came into view. “There it is,” John said, and Sam veered off toward the north. “Stop!” John shouted a few minutes later. The chasm wasn’t obvious and they almost careened into it. John got out and slowly walked forward.

  “Damn,” Sam said, “I almost drove into that.” He stared at the crack in the earth. It was perhaps a hundred yards wide and jagged, narrowing to fifty yards at various points and only fifty feet deep.

  “Let’s walk the edge for a way,” John suggested, and set out on foot. When he noticed Sam staying away from the edge he stopped. “Maybe you should follow me in the truck, a few yards away from the breach.” Sam was immediately relieved to be away from the hole.

  John walked and Sam drove for an hour, following the jagged crack as it got closer and closer to their compound. At that point John climbed onto the top of the cab and spotted the tents in the distance.

  “This isn’t good. Let’s go back and report in. I’m driving.” Sam moved over and John reset the odometer to zero, then took a direct route back to the camp.

  ***

  “What did you find?” Hank asked when John found him in the crowded mess tent having lunch.

  “There is definitely a new crack. Very erratic, varying from a hundred yards wide to half that and appears to be shallow, maybe fifty or sixty feet deep. That could be deceptive though, it could be hundreds of feet deep filled with loose sand,” John reported. “It gets as close as a mile to here. It really is impressive.”

  “A fax this morning said the San Andreas shifted and broke off chunks of California last night,” Hank said. “We’ll need to barricade off that crack, or set up some kind of fencing around the camp.”

  “Or move,” John countered.

  “Yes, or move,” Hank agreed. “I hate retreating though.”

  “Is there really a big hole in the ground, John?” little Johnny asked. Neither of the men had seen the youngster approach.

  “Yes, there is,” John confirmed, looking down at the wide-eyed child.

  “Can I see it?” Johnny asked excitedly.

  “No, it’s very dangerous.” John turned back to the adult conversation, dismissing the curious child.

  “When this busload goes to Oklahoma City, we need to get fencing, any kind of fencing,” Hank said, directing his attention to John.

  ***

  Mary burst into the command center where John, Sam, and Hank were figuring out how much fencing would be needed to encircle the camp.

  “I can’t find Johnny! I’ve looked everywhere! He’s only seven; he could be hurt,” she whimpered, not hiding the tears running down her cheeks.

  “When was the last time you saw him?” Sam asked.

  “It was around lunch, in the mess tent. After he talked to you, John, he told me he was going out to play in the sand.” Mary cried even harder.

  “Shit,” John said, immediately knowing where the boy went.

  “Don’t worry, Mary, we’ll organize a search crew and we will find him,” Hank reassured her.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  John drove one of the pickup trucks out of the compound and picked up speed, sending out a plume of dust, dirt, and loose gravel. He veered off the main road when he spotted the tracks he made the day before, sure that the young boy was smart enough to follow the obvious. As he neared the rift he slowed, stopping ten feet from the edge. There was a lot of edge to cover he thought, looking at the ground north and south. Visibility was a good mile both ways, yet he saw nothing moving.

  He peered over the edge, first looking down and then again in both directions. Not seeing anything, John walked north, along a line that would take him even closer to the camp. He repeated looking down, outward and back every ten to twelve feet, knowing a different angle could bring a new view. Three hundred feet from the truck he spotted Johnny on a wide ledge, thirty feet below the rim. He lay down on the ground and belly crawled over the edge.

  “Johnny!” he called out. The boy looked up.

  “John! Help me!” the little boy cried out.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “My hands and knees are all scraped up from when I fell.”

  “I’ll get you out. I have to go get the truck and get some rope. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

  “Don’t leave me! I’m scared!”

  “You’ll be fine, Johnny. Be brave, just don’t move.”

  John ran back to the truck, his lungs burning from the heated dust in the air. He guzzled some water as he drove back and parked the truck ten feet away and facing away from the rift. He found the hundred foot length of rope he knew was in every truck and attached it to the back bumper. After putting two bottles of water in his jacket pockets, he tossed the rope over the edge and lowered himself down, rappelling slowly so he could examine the stability of the ground.

  “Well, that’s not as bad as I thought it would be,” John said to encourage the frightened child. “The angle is such we could probably crawl out of here.” Although he knew the forty degree angle of the slope would be difficult, he didn’t want to worry the boy any more than he already was.

  “I tried that but I kept sliding back down,” Johnny said, suppressing his tears and trying to be brave as John asked.

  “Here, have some water and tell me what happened.” John opened the water and Johnny drank the whole bottle. He checked the boy over; he was dirty and scraped up, though seemed fine other than being rightfully frightened.

  “I wanted to see this hole. I know you said no, and that it was dangerous, but I’m so bored at the camp, and my mom is always busy with the baby she never pays any attention to me anymore.” He handed John the empty bottle. “I was being careful, really, then the ground started to crumble under my feet and I guess I was too close ‘cause I fell in.” He looked down and his lip quivered again.

  “Your mom is really worried, Johnny.” John wanted to reprimand the boy, but he felt sorry for the kid and knew it wasn’t his job. “Let’s get out of here.”

  ***

  Kevin had seen John leave in the truck and set out on foot to follow. He thought about how much he admired John and how patient he was even though Kevin kept making stupid mistakes. Kevin knew he was always making stupid mistakes, he’d been doing that his entire life. He couldn’t help it, his brain didn’t work right, but he tried, he tried really hard.

  He found the rift easily enough and it made his head dizzy just looking at it, so he stayed several feet away from the edge, trying not to look down into it. In watching the ground he saw tire tracks and followed them and found John’s truck, but no John.

  Kevin walked the rim again, trying to look over edge. Every time he got close, his head started spinning and he had to sit down. John was nowhere in sight. It never occurred to him to call out. He got in the truck and started the engine to leave. This was something Hank needed to know about he d
ecided and drove away, not noticing the rope that trailed behind him.

  ***

  John grasped the rope tightly, showing the boy how they would climb. “You’ll go in front of me and I’ll make sure you don’t slide backward, okay?” The rope tightened and yanked John off his feet and upward six feet then stopped.

  “What the hell?” he exclaimed, and loosened his grip slightly to drop back down. The rope tightened again and raced through his grip, burning his hands before he could let go. John fell down to the ledge, watching their lifeline speed away over the edge and out of sight.

  John gasped in pain and examined his palms. The raw skin was starting to ooze blood. The little boy stared at John’s wounds and started crying.

  “Hey, don’t cry. I’m the one that’s hurt,” John teased. He pulled off his lightweight FEMA jacket, then his t-shirt, and put his jacket back on to protect his skin from the hot sun. He winced at how sore his foot was when he stretched it out to get a knife from his pants pocket. “You’re going to have to help me cut this, Johnny, can you do that?”

  The boy nodded and held part of the t-shirt while John held the other side and used the knife to cut strips.

  John poured water from the remaining bottle over his hand and gasped at the pain, then wrapped the cut shirt around as a bandage, repeating with his other hand. He sat with his back to the wall and breathed heavily for a few minutes.

  “Are you okay, John?”

  “I won’t lie to you, boy, my hands hurt really bad. Even so, we’re still going to get out of here. We’ll have to do it the hard way, though, and crawl. It will take a bit longer, I’m afraid, so let’s get started.”

  John looked up to the jagged edge. So near yet so far.