by Kurt Gepner
Brian clamped his teeth on it and in a muffled voice, said, "Do it!" They got in position and immobilized the obese man as best they could.
"Cut fast and deep, Salvador." Hank urged. "Now!"
Quickly, Salvador cut away Brian’s shirt, exposing a mat of hairy skin. Many of Brian’s follicles were infected and he had several pustules peppered across his blubberous flesh. The jagged steel distended that flesh in a grotesque, angular way.
Salvador paused for just a moment and then set the tip of the knife against the skin about a quarter-inch back from jagged, metal rod. Once more, Brian mumbled, "Do it!" Salvador took another moment to cross himself, not even knowing what saint to call on for help, and then tightened his grip on the knife. Applying heavy pressure he pulled the knife toward him and the skin parted easily under the razor sharp blade. Swiftly he followed with another stroke and another. Brian’s voice broke in an agonizing scream. Hank and Candice both struggled to hold him still. Once more, Salvador slid the knife through Brian’s flesh and the blade made a dull scraping sound as he found the metal. Four inches deep was the gap in Brian’s side and still Salvador sliced into his flesh, until, with a slurp, the over-balanced metal popped out.
Salvador tossed the steel aside and said, "Keep holding him!" He snatched the blanket out from under Brian’s head and deftly cut two, wide strips from it. Trying to push the make-shift bandage under, he shouted, "he’s too big! Sit him up!" Hank and Candice worked together to sit him upright and Salvador tied the bandages tightly around his torso. Brian howled with pain, until his voice buzzed like a tattered, plastic bag caught against a fence by the wind.
"Come on," Salvador commanded. "Let’s get him up." All three worked together and got Brian standing. "Okay! Brian! We’re going to get under you arms, but you’ve got to help! It’s only a few blocks and you’re too big for us to carry." The two men braced themselves under Brian’s arms.
Salvador took his left side, as Hank was much taller than his son-in-law and didn’t want to stretch the wound more than necessary. With great difficulty, using Brian’s belt like handles, they hauled and tugged the obese man back to the front porch of Hank’s house. Candice hobbled closely behind.
CHAPTER NINE
Evie stood at the south dining room window and watched her world burn down. She’d already delegated tasks, made sleeping arrangements and got the house in general order. In the master bedroom, next to the top of the stairs, Theresa suffered a spasm of violent coughing. It made Evie think of the thick, black smoke that had been billowing out of her neighbor’s window when Salvador rescued her. Again from the master bedroom, she heard Lietha and Garrett coughing just as badly as their mother.
Kalika, the eldest of Theresa’s three children, had fortunately been watching a movie in her basement playroom – Evie was so grateful for that. And like every other house, when the electronics went haywire, something failed in their furnace causing a gas line exploded. But, there was no emergency cutoff in the neighbor’s house. That was a special installation by Hank and their son Kyle. Kalika’s only option had been to climb through a basement window to escape the instant inferno. Now, of course, they were all cleaned up wearing dry clothes that Evie had loaned them.
Once her sick neighbors were made comfortable, Evie went to look after her sister. Aside from somehow being electrocuted by the hair dryer, the incandescent light bulbs over the bathroom mirror had exploded in her face. It took nearly ten minutes to tweeze out all of the little slivers of glass. Thankfully, none of the shards got in her eyes. For her part, Susanna Rae had managed not to freak out, at least not too badly.
Norah tried to assist, but after patching a cut across Abby check, Evie released her from service, so she could look after her daughters. The little ones were so frightened that they both broke into fits if they weren’t being held. Presently Norah was reading stories to the girls in the smaller, upstairs bedroom where Susanna Rae had joined her.
Fifteen minutes passed before Dale could stop coughing. When he was able, however, he decided to bring his daughter, Patricia, safely home. His son, Jeremy, would likely walk home soon. The boy’s school was only ten blocks away and Dale felt confident enough in the thirteen year old. On the other hand, Patricia was ten and her school was a mile-and-a-half from home. So, that was where he went. Fortunately, when he got home from night-shift, he fell asleep fully clothed. He was ready to go as soon as he could breathe easy.
Camille busied himself by dragging anything of value from Theresa’s back yard into their own back yard. He paused frequently to watch her house consume itself. Children’s toys composed the bulk of his rescues, but a few yard tools and building supplies, left over from various projects, were saved as well.
On the back porch, Pauline was chain smoking a pack of cigarettes that she had fished out of her parked car. Evie had declined her offer to help clean, so she had nothing better to do with herself.
Evie wandered to the front porch and wondered where Hank and Salvador might be. She had faith that Hank would use good sense while helping people, but Salvador was another story. He was probably diving into fires, like some super-fireman, dashing through burning houses to save kittens. With that boy running amok, there was no telling what trouble Hank might find himself getting into.
At the moment she was thinking that thought, Evie saw the two men coming around the U-haul. They were practically carrying an obscenely heavy-set man, with blood soaking down his side. "Evie!" Hank grunted and nodded his head toward the far end of the porch. She rushed to clear a space in front of the French doors that opened into the master bedroom.
While the men were laying their patient on the cobbled floor of the front porch, Evie spun and threw open the glass-paneled doors. "Theresa! We need you!" Fear and dread infused her voice when she called out for her neighbor. Theresa threw off her blankets and found her feet. Fever sweat was beaded across her brow and upper lip as she swayed dizzily to answer the terrified summons. Evie felt horrible for having to call on her, but Theresa was a Registered Nurse, with Emergency Room experience.
"It’s pretty handy," said Theresa as she staggered forward to lean against the door jamb, "that you added these doors to the bedroom." She was trying to act upbeat, but her half-smile was forced and her voice came out more like a string of croaks than an actual sentence.
Evie was so overwhelmed, she couldn’t keep back all of her tears. "I’m so sorry…" she cried.
"You do what you got to do," Theresa said with a resigned shrug. "I’m surprised I wasn’t needed sooner." She failed another attempt at smiling. Evie didn’t laugh, but stepped out of her way and Theresa saw her patient for the first time. "What happened?" She asked with sudden authority.
Perhaps it was her tone, or some ubiquitous, abstract quality that identified her as a medical professional, but Salvador did not hesitate to answer. "He was impaled by a piece of steel that pinned him to a tree. We had to pry the metal up and down to get it out of the tree. When we got him down, the thing was too big and jagged, so we cut it out of him. Mostly, it was fat that I cut through, except the last half inch."
Theresa took a deep breath that rattled in her chest. "There’s nothing I can do for him. He really needs a doctor. He’ll probably bleed to de…"
"Theresa," Hank cut in. "That jet hit the hospital." She looked stunned, but Hank went on. "It took out the Methodist Church, the clinic across the street and probably everything within a block to the north and west of there. It crashed, because something knocked out the electricity and their instruments got knocked out with it. Cars aren’t running. Phones aren’t working. No help is coming and there’s nowhere to go. You’re the doctor now. What do you need?"
Theresa was tangibly aware of the world crashing in upon her. She closed her eyes and shrank down in defeat. Dizziness washed over her and she opened her eyes, catching the door frame for support. Her vision wandered across the gruesome tableau until they froze onto Hank’s pale blue eyes. In his gaze, she saw that ridicul
ous confidence that he always had in the abilities of others. Salvador was his antithesis; doubt shone in his eyes. Evie stood next to her, showing nothing but compassion. And then she saw her children.
Garrett was being uncharacteristically docile. Lietha was coughing into a pillow so hard tears were streaming down her cheeks. And Kalika, the only one of the three who could begin to grasp the magnitude of events around her, absorbed everything while gently patting her sister’s back. Kalika, physically and mentally mature beyond her ten short years, was not observing her mother with judgment, but with studious intensity.
Theresa swallowed. Reaching down inside, she found that pool of determination reserved for extraordinary people engaging extraordinary times. Drawing from that pool, she stood tall and nodded to herself.
"Okay," she said with a voice sounding much stronger than she felt. "Evie, I need peroxide and alcohol. Rubbing alcohol preferably, but vodka or any booze will work; just nothing sweet. Hank," she said, shifting her attention. "You do a lot of sanding and wood staining. Do you have any dust masks and latex gloves?" As she spoke, she tugged the front of her T-shirt up over her nose.
"Sure do," Hank confirmed. "A bunch of both."
"Good," Theresa nodded. "I need those and I need the finest fishing line you’ve got. And some fish hooks with a curve about this big." She held her thumb and finger apart about a half inch. "File off the barbs and make sure they’re really sharp. I’m going to use them as surgical needles."
Hank dashed off to the back yard as Evie nodded and ran through the bedroom to collect her list of supplies. When Hank reached the steps, he found Candice at the top, shivering like a grape popsicle with her arms tucked into her blazer. "Go inside, Candice. It’s straight on from the front door to the kitchen and the bathroom’s at the end of the hall to your right." He said, and sprang off on his errand.
Candice followed Hank’s instructions into the kitchen and from there to the back porch, where she smelled cigarette smoke. "Hello," she said to Pauline, who turned with a start.
"Who are you?" Pauline asked abruptly.
Candice stretched out her hand, fingers parallel to the ground and said, "Candice Caerson, Pillar Realty. I’d give you a card, but I lost my purse."
Pauline looked her over before taking the proffered hand. "You’re always on, aren’t you?"
Candice made a breathy sound that resembled a laugh. "I try. But I’m not feeling very on today. Like that cigarette... I haven’t had one in six months, but there’s nothing I’d rather have, right now."
Pauline looked in her pack and shrugged. She handed it to Candice who took the last one. Then Candice took the lighter that Pauline held up and flicked it a couple times before pressing the flame against the exposed tobacco. Pulling deep on the tan filter she filled her lungs with thick smoke. For a moment, she held her breath and then a frown pulled down the corners of her mouth before bursting into a rage of coughing. Pauline patted the sputtering woman on the back. Once Candice had been resuscitated, she smashed out the cigarette into the tuna can that Pauline had been using as an ashtray.
"Damn!" Candice coughed and shook her head as she looked at the package. "I never could stand Winston." Then she nodded out at the rain and smoke and the burning house across the street. "Well, I guess the value on that place has depreciated." Laughing to herself she said, "or you might say that the market value of this dump has dramatically appreciated."
Pauline looked Candice in the eye. "You know, I’m not good company right now. Would you mind leaving me alone?"
Candice’s face softened. "I understand. You’re probably worried about someone, aren’t you?"
"You could say that," Pauline answered, as she turned her back to Candice. Candice left her there and began exploring the kitchen.
After sending Evie on a second supply run, Theresa returned her attention to her patient, instructing her team. "Turn him on his side and cut these bandages off him." Salvador adjusted Brian’s legs and arms and heaved the obese man onto his right side. Brian yelped and groaned.
"Can you hear me?" Theresa asked the big man. She had her face down near his. With her thumb, she pulled up an eyelid. Brian winced and drew his head back. "Tell me your name." she ordered.
"Brian," he answered. "Brian Beltridge."
As she took his pulse she continued questioning him. "How old are you, Brian?"
"Twenty-eight," he answered dully.
"Do you have any medical conditions?" she asked.
He nodded weakly. "Type-two, diabetes. Hypothyroid. High blood pressure. Asthma."
"Fuck!" Theresa sat back on her heels, her jaw clenching.
The bedroom door opened and Theresa turned to see if Evie was bringing her supplies. Instead, she saw her daughters, Kalika and Lietha, watching with wide eyes from the edge of the hardwood floor. "You two get right back in bed!" When they didn’t move, Theresa shouted, "Now!" The two girls sprang back onto the bed and pulled the covers right up to their chins. Their brother sat between them, in rapt fascination of the goings on.
Striding past the children, Evie dropped her load of supplies on the cast iron patio table. Then she laid out a towel next to Theresa and set everything on it. A quarter bottle of rubbing alcohol next to a full bottle of Vodka, the bleach sanitized stainless steel bowl, a stack of fresh, clean towels and a large Tupperware bin of assorted first aid supplies.
"Great! You’re set up for some pretty serious first aid," Theresa commented after a quick inventory.
"We do most of the doctoring for our animals and Hank does a lot of self-repair, too." Evie spoke perfunctorily.
Theresa understood. Hank was always gouging himself, getting caught on something, or just getting banged up from the work he did. Every other week he was down for a day, because he pushed himself too hard. That triggered a thought and she asked Evie, "What’s Hank been taking for his back?"
"Mostly Tylenol or Advil, but on the bad days he’s got some Vicodin and a few Flexeril."
Turning to her patient so quickly that her head throbbed, Theresa asked, "Brian, did you hear that?"
"Uh-huh," he mumbled.
She took his pulse again. "Are you allergic to any of those?"
"No." He said. Then Brian opened his eyes. A vessel had hemorrhaged in the right one. It was bright red around the light blue iris. He blinked and looked at Theresa. "I want to live," he pleaded.
"Good! Then do every thing I say and you will." Turning to her neighbor, Theresa said, "Evie, go crush two Vicodins and two Flexerils and dissolve the powder in a few ounces of water." Evie left immediately on her task.
Just then, Hank returned with some fishing line and modified fishhooks. "It’s four-pound test," he said. "It’s the smallest I have."
"Perfect," Theresa said, dropping the items into the bowl and pouring alcohol over them. "I want you," Theresa said, thrusting her chin at Salvador, "to go get cleaned up. If I’m the doctor, then you’re my nurse."
Salvador sat back on his heels and put his hands up. "I need to get back out there. People could need my help."
Theresa’s eyes narrowed and she said, "I’m sure a lot of people could need your help, but this man does need your help. You’re the only other person here who has any real medical training."
Salvador pointed at his father-in-law. "Hank’s smart. He knows a lot about first aid. He’d be a better nurse than me."
"Don’t be a dumb-ass!" Theresa snapped at him. "I’ll need Hank and you both to hold him, or did you forget there’s no anesthesia?" Salvador grimaced from her scathing tone.
Evie came out to the porch then and looked between her son-in-law and her neighbor, then down at the obese man who was bleeding on her rustic, French-styled, cobbled bricks. "Now’s not the time for a pissing match," she said to the two of them. "Theresa, here’s the medicine." She handed over the glass of cloudy water. "A lot of people must be trying to put out fires, because the water pressure is getting low."
"Oh Shit!" Hank cursed and leaped over Br
ian. He bowled passed Evie and nearly ripped one of the French doors off its hinge. The children on the bed watched with wonder, as he stormed through the bedroom.
"What’s wrong?" Evie chased after him.
"Water!" Hank shouted back as he ducked into the bathroom. Evie followed after him. In the bathroom, he was plugging the bathtub. "Evie, fill all the sinks!" His voice smacked of a panic she’d never before heard from him.
"What’s wrong?" She asked, again, while pressing the lever to plug the sink and turning on the water.
Hank looked at her. She could see the desperation in his eyes. "The water’s going to stop, Evie. It’s like the garden hose, after you turn it off. There’s still pressure in the line and when you use the sprayer, it still comes out for a while. But the pumps have stopped and the system is losing pressure. Aside from what we’ve got in bottles, this is the last of the drinking water."
He took a hold of her shoulder and gave her a look that sent a chill down her spine. "Now go tell Camille to fill every bucket, every pot and pan, every container with water from the hose. Dump out plastic storage-bins and fill them, too."
"But Hank," she said, trying to be rational, "it’s raining like crazy. We can just set out the buckets and they’ll fill up in no time."
Hank looked frustrated, but kept an even tone. "The air is full of smoke from house fires, Evie. The whole city is burning. House fires are full of chemicals: plastics, asbestos, lead. The rain is trapping all of that poison." Evie’s eyes widened as the ramifications of his words lodged in her mind. "Now go make sure that Camille understands." He kissed her on the forehead. "It will all be fine. Now, go. And hurry!" Evie bustled away and Hank turned off the water to the sink.
When he returned to the porch, Salvador was helping Brian to drink down the narcotic concoction that Evie had brought. It was clear by Brian’s mask of disgust that it was unpleasant and Theresa was losing her patience with him for not slugging it down.
