by Bobby Akart
“Yes, ma’am. After that?”
“Nurse! Nurse! Can you help us?” A man was yelling at her from the reception desk.
“Hold on!” she shouted back, not trying to hide her irritation at being summoned that way. She turned back to the candy striper. “I don’t know. Check each of the exam rooms and restock the necessities. You know, clean sheets, paper goods, first aid supplies. If you see something missing, go to the stockroom and get it.”
“But, but, um, I don’t know what’s supposed to be—”
“Nurse! Please hurry!” the man shouted again.
The head nurse huffed and began to walk away from the candy striper. “Just figure it out. You’re a smart girl.”
The candy striper was a smart girl, it just took her little longer to figure things out than her friends. She stood in the chaos of the emergency room and slowly turned in a circle.
“Now, which way is east?” she asked aloud, not expecting anyone to stop and provide her an answer.
She walked a few paces down one hallway and didn’t see a man in hunting clothes. With the recent new additions to Lutheran Downtown Hospital, the corridors leading off the central hub of the emergency room were somewhat confusing to newbies. The expansion had resulted in a maze of connected L-shaped wings, above-the-ground hallways, and underground tunnels.
She’d once dreamed of being a nurse, or even a doctor, like the ones she watched on Grey’s Anatomy. When she was asked to volunteer, the first thing that crossed her mind was she might meet her Mr. Right, her very own Dr. McDreamy. The last thing she expected to do was deal with real dead bodies.
Nonetheless, she wanted to do as instructed, so she made her way down another hallway in search of the man in camouflage. She was energized by the bustling activity—the surgeries, the tragedies, the lab procedures, and the shouts of joy when loved ones were told their family member would be okay.
“Out of the way!” shouted an intern as he rushed down the corridor, pushing a gurney.
Rush was the right word. It gave her a rush to be in the midst of all this activity. Her adrenalin levels spiked, making her excited to be there to help.
However, the candy striper, startled by his forceful voice, stumbled out of the way and bumped into a gurney holding an elderly woman hooked up to oxygen. The woman reached for the young woman, her cold bony hands grasping the candy striper’s wrist. She recoiled as if she’d been grabbed by one of The Walking Dead and ran back to the hub of the ER.
She became frustrated at having been given such a mundane task. She found an available telephone and dialed the morgue. It took several minutes for someone to pick up the phone. During the wait, the candy striper decided to simply pass on the instructions as they were given to her by the head nurse.
East wing.
Man with a beard, dressed in camouflage hunting clothes.
Dead. Come and get him.
Sounded simple enough, so when the frenzied morgue worker answered the phone, she reeled off the instructions like an old pro, using her I-too-am-a-nurse voice with a hint of authority. She disconnected the call and smiled to herself. The man had responded to her request by saying, yes ma’am. Now, that’s respect.
*****
The two orderlies from the morgue made their way up the service elevator together. They had two pickups, as they called it whenever the ER staff notified them that one of the patients had coded. Now, to be sure, they were only called once a week or so. Even in a downtown hospital like Lutheran, most times patients survived whatever had befallen them, thanks to the excellent care they received from the medical staff.
The hospital had never filled all one hundred beds within the facility. Frankly, they probably never were intended to be filled. However, under federal law, they were able to receive additional healthcare funding because of the bed count.
This day was different, obviously, due to circumstances. Every available bed was taken. Each operating room was, well, fully operating. The hallways were stuffed with patients who were in need of medical attention, but like aircraft on the runway, they were waiting for clearance.
Or, as the two morgue workers had learned, they were forgotten about.
“This is a bona fide cluster—” one of the young men began to say before cutting off his statement. One of the Lutheran ministers joined them on the elevator as they were exiting to enter the ER.
His friend elbowed him and then spoke under his breath. “I told you to watch that potty mouth. This is a Lutheran hospital, remember. They ain’t Catholics.” The two got a chuckle out of the statement and then headed toward the east wing.
“Here’s our first one,” said the man who’d worked there longer, by all of a month. Most of the orderlies who started in the basement morgue immediately put in for a transfer to another department. His transfer request had been put in, but was placed on hold due to the power shutdown.
They approached an elderly man whose arm had fallen from under his blanket and off the side of the gurney. His mouth was open, and drool had dried on the corners of his lips. One of the orderlies reached down and pulled his arm back up, folding it gently across his chest.
“What’s the wristband read?”
“Last name West. First initial is L.”
“Well, Mr. West in the east wing, sorry to see you go. Please come with us, sir.”
The new guy started laughing. “You’re such an asshole!”
“Yeah, that’s what my girlfriend tells me. Whatcha gonna do? We gotta get through the day somehow.”
They pulled his gurney away from the wall and worked together to wrap straps around his legs and arms so he didn’t fall off while being wheeled downstairs.
“Okay, what’s the name on the next one?” asked the new guy.
“No name, I guess. We’ve had quite a few of those. Usually bums or people who got robbed after they died.”
“Nice,” quipped the other man.
“Yeah, well, that’s the way it is now. Anyway, look for a guy dressed in camo. He’s got a beard, and, oh yeah, he’s dead.”
“Really? No shit, Sherlock.”
They pushed the first body down the corridor with them until they saw two gurneys containing similar-looking men, both dressed in camo, and both with a beard.
The two morgue orderlies stood flummoxed in the middle of the hallway.
“Which one is it?” asked the new guy.
“We’ve gotta figure out which one is dead,” said his inept supervisor. “You try that one and I’ll try this one.”
The younger guy walked down the hallway, stopping for a moment as a doctor raced out of an exam room and pushed past the orderly on the way to the reception area.
“Watch out, big shot,” the orderly grumbled. He stopped next to the gurney with the man dressed in camouflage. He tapped his foot.
No response.
“Hey, buddy, are you, um, dead or just asleep?”
Nothing.
The orderly rolled his eyes and shook the rail of the gurney. Feeling for a pulse apparently was not an option for the new guy.
“Hey! Are you—?”
“Arrgghh,” moaned the patient.
“Oh, shit!” screamed the orderly, clumsily backpedaling until he fell hard to the shiny linoleum floor. “He’s alive!”
The other orderly stood over him and laughed. “I know, I’ve got the dead one over here. Let’s go.”
In their laughter, neither one of them heard the patient whisper, “Help me.”
Chapter 51
Cedar Glade
Billy Clark’s Residence
Corydon, Indiana
Billy Clark summoned his brother and sister to Cedar Glade. After a courier from the state capital had delivered five hundred copies of the martial law declaration to the sheriff’s office, Randy immediately notified Billy, who asked why they weren’t delivered to Audrey Nash, the town council president. Randy replied they were intended for her, but the courier had chosen the sheriff’s office inste
ad.
They gathered around the bar, sipping alcohol and enjoying apple crisp made by Sheriff Clark’s new live-in cook, using Mr. Watson’s apples. Billy provided Joella a copy of the martial law declaration to read while he and Randy consumed the delicious apple crisp.
Joella shrugged and laid her copy of the paperwork on the bar. “Okay, it’s full of legalese, but the gist of it is that the executive branch of the federal government is taking over virtually every aspect of the nation’s critical infrastructure. Utilities, hospitals, first responders, and even certain aspects of private industry the president deems necessary to protect the citizenry.”
Billy tapped the palm of his hand on the banker’s box full of paper. “Well, before Randy goes around handing out these flyers and posting them everywhere, I thought it’s something the three of us should discuss.”
“I’m not sure what there is to discuss,” commented Joella as she sipped her wine. “The executive action is in place whether we tell Harrison Countians about it or not.”
“Jo, who enforces this thing? Us or the feds?” asked Randy.
“In my opinion, you work for the feds now. Or, as they put it, you serve at the pleasure of the president.”
“Some bureaucrat is gonna tell me how to run the sheriff’s office?” Randy asked.
Joella laughed. “No, Sheriff Clark, nobody’s coming down from Washington with a clipboard to audit your books or make you account for all the drug money in the evidence locker. I do think that if there is an incident in the county that requires the National Guard to intervene, they’d call upon you to assist.”
“Jo, is this like a hundred years ago when they were gonna take over the banks?” asked Billy with apprehension.
“If they did, the last thing they’d do is come knocking on the door of the Bank of Corydon. Seriously, I really don’t think this changes much in rural counties like ours. My guess is that the big cities are burning to the ground, and the president needs the flexibility to use the military to shut down the unrest.”
“He could turn the power back on,” added Randy. “That would shut down the unrest.”
“No!” Billy’s response to Randy’s statement was loud and too vociferous. It caught his brother and sister off guard, in addition to drawing his wife out of the kitchen. Billy immediately caught himself and raised his hands to apologize. “Sorry, um, that was a little too loud. It’s just that we’ve got a handle on things right now and don’t need any interference.”
Joella laughed at her brother’s lack of transparency. “You mean you still have work to do before you’re subjected to court scrutiny.”
Billy finished off his third bourbon of the evening and smiled. “Maybe.”
“So do I post these things tomorrow or not?” asked Randy.
Joella thought for a moment before responding, “Now, I want you both to listen to me so you know where I’m coming from. I love you and I will do anything to protect this family. I know you both have plans, for lack of a better term, and I recognize that all three of us will stand to benefit from what you two are up to.”
“Jo, we aren’t doing anything that you told us not to do,” protested Billy.
She held her hands up to stop him. “I don’t wanna know about it, Billy. All I’m saying is this martial law declaration may be the beginning of the government taking regional and local control over governmental operations. I think we, and I include myself in this, need to be at the forefront of Harrison County’s leadership team.”
“I’m sheriff,” said Randy. “That’s a start. You’re the local prosecutor and arguably the town’s legal advisor since both Audrey and the town council’s attorney have disappeared.”
“They’re bangin’,” said Billy bluntly. “I heard he’s got a place up near Fort Wayne that’s got power. They probably ran off together to his little love shack.”
Joella shook her head in disbelief, but the fact they were missing proved her point. “Corydon and Harrison County are operating without a town council. We need to put one in place and quickly. Once we do, then we’ll make this martial law notification public, and at the same time, we’ll announce the new government.”
“How are we supposed to call a special election?” asked Randy.
“It’s in the charter,” Joella responded. “We need to make it happen quickly, quietly, and with the cooperation of the remaining council members who are still in town.”
“I can take care of them,” added Billy. “Most of them owe me a favor or a few bucks. Those that don’t, I can promise them something in return. Maybe a foreclosed house?”
Joella cautioned him. “Guys, both of you, nothing in writing.”
“Fine,” agreed Billy. “Does this mean I’m gonna be on the new town council?”
“Makes sense,” said Randy.
“Sorry, but no,” said Joella assertively. “This is my dream. I want to seek statewide office soon, and this is the first step. Plus, we need to keep the bank out of politics. Billy’s too good at making deals and using the power of the bank to get concessions from people.”
“But—” Billy began to whine before Randy interrupted him.
“No, Billy. She’s right. You’re too valuable outside of government. Besides, people will immediately smell a rat. Jo has everyone’s respect and is considered above reproach despite the fact she’s your sister.”
“Yours too, Randy!” Billy shot back.
“I know. I’m just kiddin’.”
“Guys, take it easy,” Joella intervened. “This is the right play. Now, we gotta get to work. First step is to locate the council and county commissioners and get them on board. I’ll research the charter to see if there are any emergency provisions. I’ll determine how quickly I can make this happen.”
Billy sighed and then smiled. He raised his glass to toast Joella and Randy. “Here’s to great things in all of our futures!”
“Cheers!”
Chapter 52
Riverfront Farms
Southeast Indiana
“I’m exhausted,” said Carly as she carried the last bushel of apples inside. After they’d received word of another farm being robbed of their harvest, Sarah ordered everyone to the orchards to pick what they could. Even apples that weren’t completely ripe for the pickin’ were harvested. They didn’t have the manpower to monitor all the orchards and the rest of Riverfront Farms at once.
Sarah wiped the sweat off her forehead with her sleeve. Minding Chapman’s warning, she continued to tell everyone to cover as much of their bodies as they could to avoid the sun’s damaging rays. “I am, too. But I have to say, it kept my mind off what’s happening with Squire. I wish there was a way to check on him.”
Carly suddenly grew despondent and said barely loud enough for Sarah to hear her, “I know where you’re comin’ from.”
Sarah immediately felt guilty for selfishness. Carly had worried about Levi for days, and because he was the most capable of surviving on his own, everyone downplayed his absence. The family’s consensus had always been that Levi could be stranded halfway around the world and still manage to find his way home. It might just take a while.
She removed her apron and walked over to her daughter-in-law with outstretched arms. “Honey, I am so sorry. I know you miss Levi. So do I. It’s wrong of us to voice our concerns for him any less than Squire or Kristi, or even Chapman before he arrived home.”
Carly sniffled and then put on her usual strong façade. “He’s fine. I know it in my heart. Mom, we have this connection that I can’t describe. It’s almost, you know, like ESP or something. If he was, um, you know …” Her voice trailed off.
“Well, you and I both know he’s alive and well. I don’t know, maybe hurting, but alive. Look at what Chapman and Isabella went through. And they came from Paris.”
“I know,” said Carly, feeling somewhat better. “At least Levi’s in his element. If he’d been stuck in Paris, he’d be in big trouble.”
Sarah laughed and hugge
d her again. “Paris, Tennessee? No problem. Paris, France? He’d be doomed!”
“Yeah, no offense to Isabella, but wine and cheese and croissants just ain’t his thing!”
The two women started to laugh and cry tears of joy as they shared a moment over Sarah Boone’s youngest and Carly’s love of her life. Then the front door flew open, startling them both.
It was Jesse. He was wearing one of his dad’s cowboy hats and carrying his .22-caliber rifle. “Mom! Grandma! There’s a car comin’!”
The two women ran to the door and grabbed their guns. Sarah turned to Carly, who simply nodded. She knew what to do.
“C’mon, Jesse. You know the drill.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The two of them ran upstairs to take up positions in the windows overlooking the front of the house. As before, Jesse was to point his rifle out the window and stay out of sight. Carly would do the same, but standing behind the wall to appear larger than her son.
Sarah bravely strutted across the porch, down the steps, and onto the dirt that used to be a lush lawn of Kentucky 31 fescue. She calmly raised the rifle at the oncoming vehicle and studied it through her scope.
She lowered the gun and scowled. Then she raised it again and took another look. It wasn’t quite what she expected, but then nothing was normal anymore, so she maintained a steady aim on the car’s windshield.
The vehicle flashed its lights at her, and then the passenger waved an arm out the window. The driver did the same. Still unsure, Sarah stood her ground until the vehicle eased to a stop.
“Mom? Are you gonna shoot us?” Kristi shouted her question through the window.
Sarah exhaled and dropped to her knees, falling back on her ankles as she began to sob. She was paralyzed by the joyous moment, unable to move except to bury her face in her hands.
Kristi bounded out of the Mustang and ran to her mother. Sarah looked up and held out her arms just in time for the two women to fall to the ground in an embrace of mother and daughter that only they could appreciate.
