The Girl Who Owned a City

by O. T. (Terry) Nelson

  Todd finally came back and put two pails of water on the fire to boil. “Okay,” said Jill. “Who wants to be my assistant?” The Bergman children said they couldn’t stand the sight of blood. “Todd, will you help?” He said he would.

  “All right, scrub up. Wash like you’ve never washed before. We can’t risk an infection. We can’t take any chances.” Then Jill was ready to begin. “Help me lift her up on the table.”

  Lisa looked very pale, and so did Jill and Todd. Jill undid the temporary bandage they had applied in the bushes. Lisa was still bleeding. Craig and Erika had to leave the room.

  The sight of the wound would not have shocked nurses in a regular hospital. They might even have said that it was minor. But to Jill and Todd, it looked bad. Jill faced an awesome responsibility. Her life is in my hands, she thought. What if she dies? What do I do first?

  “Todd, we’ve got to get that bullet out,” Jill said. “Let’s get started!” Her courage was returning.

  “First, we have to wash away the dried blood. Bring warm water and strips of cloth.” He went out of the room and quickly returned. “Now tear the strips into small pieces, about the size of washcloths. Are you sure your hands are clean? Here, pour some of this alcohol in a pan. We can dip our hands in it.”

  With warm water and soap, Jill dabbed away the dried blood. When it was clean, the wound didn’t look bad at all. There was only a small hole in the arm where the bullet was lodged. “She must have fallen on her head,” said Jill. “See the big bruise and cut by her eye? That’s why there was so much blood on her face.”

  Now Todd understood why the Chidester soldier had pronounced Lisa dead. When he had seen all the blood on her face, he must have thought that it came from a bullet!

  When Jill soaked the area around the wound with alcohol, she began to feel nervous again. So far it was fairly easy, but how was she going to get the bullet out? Should she cut a wider opening? Suppose she hit an artery?

  She picked up the first-aid book and looked for the diagram of the circulatory system. She studied it over and over, looking from the page to Lisa’s arm and then back to the page again.

  “Oh, I get it now!” she shouted happily. “A small cut this way won’t hurt anything. Todd, hold the blade of the razor in the flame for 30 seconds. That will sterilize it.” Lisa stirred but said nothing. “It’s a good thing she’s still unconscious. I don’t think she’d want to be awake for my first operation.”

  “Is she going to be all right?” Todd asked.

  “Yes,” Jill replied.

  “Here goes.” She was trembling, and she wanted to close her eyes. She made a shallow, two-inch cut. The bullet was lodged by the side of Lisa’s arm bone, not far from the surface of the skin. Jill could feel it.

  “Give me more pieces of cloth. No, better yet, keep dabbing the blood away, and I’ll try to get the bullet out. Dab two or three times with each piece, then soak one in alcohol and dab just once. Keep that up. Always use a fresh piece of cloth.”

  Jill sterilized a pair of tweezers, then used them to reach into the opening and feel for the metal. “There it is,” she said aloud. She slowly, carefully pulled out the bullet. Tears were filling her eyes.

  “Todd, I’m closing the wound. Get more alcohol, then we’ll stitch it up. It won’t be easy, but I think I know how.”

  “That wasn’t too bad, was it?” she said, when they’d finished. “I think I’d make a good doctor.”

  In the middle of the night, Lisa woke up. Todd was sitting by her side. “Hi, Lisa,” was all he said. She nodded to him. He could tell, as the drowsiness left her, that her arm hurt a lot. She groaned and turned away.

  “Jill, come here!” Todd called. When she came into the room, he whispered, “I think something’s wrong.”

  “Arm hurt?” asked Jill, not seeming very concerned. Lisa nodded again. “Well, it’s supposed to hurt. We fixed you up just fine, but we had to do a little . . .” She started to tell the story of the surgery, but, fearing that she would alarm Lisa, she said instead, “We had to do a little work on your arm. It will feel better soon.” As she left the room, she said, “I know just what you need.”

  She went to the kitchen and quickly returned. She handed Lisa a glass of golden-colored liquid. “Now drink it all, even if you don’t like the taste,” Jill said.

  The drink looked much better than it tasted. Lisa took a big swallow and spit it out all over the blanket. “Now, Lisa,” Jill teased. “Have you forgotten your manners?”

  “Ick!” Lisa made a horrible face. “What was that stuff?” “Whiskey,” Jill answered, as if it were Kool-Aid.

  “Are you trying to get me drunk? What kind of friend are you?” In spite of her pain, Lisa was teasing her.

  “I’m serious, Lisa. Drink it all up. You’ll need it for the pain, and you have to get some more rest.” Jill handed her a full glass.

  It took a long time for Lisa to finish but, for some reason, it got easier as the glass emptied. The last swallow was a big one. Lisa giggled. “Boy, do I feel funny.”

  Then Jill told Lisa what had happened. “Well,” Lisa said, “sometimes one mistake is all it takes. I suppose if I could do a stupid thing like that, I deserved to lose the city. You’ve got to be smart to earn good things.

  “And even that’s not enough. You’ve got to be smart to keep them, too.” After a long pause, she said, “I guess I’ll just have to earn it all back. I’ll figure something out.”

  The whiskey was making her dizzy. She started to giggle.

  “I give up,” Jill said. “You’re drunk. Get some sleep. Call me if you need anything.”

  “That’s okay,” said Todd. “I’ll be here to help her.”

  That night it was Todd who told a story. He started with a serious tale about a little prince in a faraway kingdom. But Lisa giggled in all the serious places. So he tried to change it into a funny, silly story. But he couldn’t finish this one either. Soon, Lisa fell asleep.

  Todd wasn’t bothered. He knew his audience was at fault. He turned out the light and sank into the big chair. It was uncomfortable, so he decided to sleep on the operating table.

  As he fell asleep, Todd thought about his sister. He was glad that she was better, because he was learning so much from her. Does she know that? he wondered.

  The light in the Glenbard tower chamber burned through the night. A scarred face stared into the candle. Who shot her? Tom Logan wondered. I’ll beat his little head in if I ever catch him.

  He was angry, but not because he thought Lisa’s death would make the citizens of Glenbard hate him or because it would make his job harder. He was mad because he hadn’t wanted Lisa to get hurt. At least not that way. He was frustrated, too, for his luck, because that’s all that this victory really was—a matter of luck. Most of all, he was mad at his own nameless fears.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  B

  efore dawn, the new leader of 700 sat thinking and planning how to manage his first day as leader of the city. He stared into the black void of the chamber, past the candle that had burned away. The candle, he thought. It was her candle and now the light is gone, and so is she.

  The new leader of only four lay awake, thinking and planning how to bring back all that she had lost. She stared into the ever-brightening space of the window until sunlight poured into the room. Her body felt weak, but her mind was active. The city, she thought. It was my city, and now I’ve left it. I must go back!

  Todd opened his eyes and stared at the strange ceiling until he recognized the lamp hanging above him. Last night the lamp was hanging ominously over his sister. Why had he slept there?

  Then he remembered the night before. He quickly turned his head to study the patient. Her eyes were open, and they met his. She had been staring in his direction for some time.

  “It’s nice to wake up warm in the morning, isn’t it, Todd? Maybe we can find more oil stoves and move them to Glenbard. Think of how cold it must be in the bedrooms. We should
. . .” What had happened then came back to her. She fell silent.

  Lisa and Todd each tried to construct a mental image of the distant city. What was it like now? Would they ever see it again? Of course they would! They both knew it.

  She smiled and said, “Thanks for saving my life, Todd.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “My arm hurts. Do you think you can find some aspirin for me?” He slipped down from the table and started rummaging through the nursing supplies.

  Jill appeared at the doorway. “What you need is a glass of whiskey, Lisa.”

  “Are you kidding? Not a chance—that stuff is awful. I can still taste it from last night.” She made a face and shook her head. “I’d rather suffer. Can’t I have some aspirin?”

  “Sorry, Lisa, but we forgot to bring it along,” Jill said. “And this farm doesn’t have any. In fact, the whole place is empty. Someone has been here already. But there’s plenty of whiskey.

  “Come on, Todd, get your coat. I’m starved. Maybe there will be supplies at the farmhouse across the road.”

  Jill and Todd left. The cheerful room was silent when Lisa suddenly remembered that she had already been to this farm. She had been the one, a long time ago, who had taken the food and even the aspirin. Now she remembered the old woman’s note, her own wild idea about driving the car, the first ride, the chicken in the wicker basket, and the cookies in the jar. It seemed a long time ago.

  Ever since she had awakened, she had felt an urgent need to recapture Glenbard. Now that need and her excitement helped her forget the pain in her arm. Aspirin or whiskey couldn’t have done the job as well.

  Lisa didn’t doubt for a moment that they could save the city. But she also knew how strong Glenbard was. Winning back the city would take much more than confidence. How could four of them win against an army of hundreds?

  How? . . . How? she asked a hundred times. And then the first seed of a plan began to grow. Ideas began streaming through her mind. Lisa didn’t notice Jill and Todd come back through the door.

  “Of course,” she said out loud. “It will cost me plenty, but I can make a deal with another army. For two months worth of supplies, they’d help us capture the city. The dogs are gone, and that will help. And we know the city better than Logan. I wonder if anyone told him about the secret tunnel? If only we could get a spy inside.”

  She laughed to herself at the thought. A spy? Why, we have hundreds of spies in there. She laughed again, and they turned to look at her. Was she delirious?

  But her thinking had never been clearer. The ideas kept coming. Signals from a spy . . . a new plan of the city showing Logan’s room . . . a hired army surrounding the city . . . disguises for the four of them . . . a daylight attack on the inside from the tunnel . . . a signal to the army on the outside . . .

  “Lisa, do you want some breakfast?” somebody asked.

  She didn’t hear. Could they get to Logan without being detected? It should be a dawn attack. He’s probably a late sleeper. A set of keys. We’ll need that to get into his room. A small pistol . . .

  “Her eyes are wide open, and her lips are moving a little,” someone said.

  That’s it, she thought. A gun to his stupid head. We’ll hold him hostage till his army is out of the building, and then we’ll lock him up for safekeeping. If we threaten to kill him, they’ll leave us alone, at least till we can set up our defenses again.

  But . . . suppose the army doesn’t need Logan anymore, and they decide to fight instead of walking out? They probably like it in there. I’ll bet they’ve eaten up all the food. What if they fight us? Will they believe our threats about killing Logan? We have to take the chance. We’ll signal our soldiers. They’ll slip in through the tunnel, too. You can’t see the entrance from the roof. Then when the Chidester Gang is gone, we can get back to work . . .

  “Should I shake her, Jill?” Todd asked.

  The battle was already fought and won in Lisa’s mind. When they’re gone, we’ll have to figure out a different kind of moat—one that’s safer than a ring of dogs. We should find more cars with gas or find a way to get more gas. The parking lot is filling up with empty cars. What did I hear about portable electric generators? They run on gas, too, and we could get electricity from them. Just think of that! We’d have lights and stoves and refrigerators . . . and music . . . and computers . . .

  She turned suddenly toward the breakfast table. “Music!” she shouted. “Music! Do you know that we haven’t heard music in almost 19 months?”

  They stared at her. The loud words startled them.

  “Music, I said. Soon we’ll have music at Glenbard.” She couldn’t understand their dumbfounded looks.

  Now they were sure she was delirious. Jill walked over to the couch and stroked Lisa’s forehead. “Relax a while, Lisa,” she said. “Relax. We have food whenever you’re hungry. Do you want a glass of water?”

  Lisa understood. “Thanks, Jill. Really, I’m all right. I was just thinking about a plan to get the city back, and I guess I got carried away.”

  “Do you think you can walk to the table?” Jill asked. “We’ve made a nice breakfast. Yours may be a little cold by now, though.”

  Lisa tried to stand but fell back to the couch. Jill said, “You’re weak, you know—you lost a lot of blood. Stay on the couch. I’ll bring your food to you.” The other children gathered by the couch to watch her eat.

  “Eggs?” Lisa was amazed. “Where did you find this?”

  While she ate the delicious cold egg, Todd explained. “The farm across the road has a big supply of everything. We found a chicken in the bedroom. We couldn’t figure out what she ate, but she had a nice bed and a nice house all to herself. That’s how we found the egg.”

  “Smart chicken,” Lisa said, with a smile. “I’ll have to go meet our new neighbor and thank her for the breakfast. We must be neighborly and all that, you know!”

  Craig continued the game. “I wonder if the old bird is afraid of chicken gangs?”

  They each tried a joke about the chicken, and though the jokes got worse and worse, they laughed harder and harder. Everyone was feeling silly.

  Finally, Jill stopped the fun with a serious question. “Lisa, what did you mean when you shouted the word ‘music’? And why did you say we’d soon have music at Glenbard?”

  Lisa told them about the electric generator and a little about the new strategy, but not all. She had to think it through more carefully. She found herself suddenly tired again. But there were a few things that they could get started on.

  She looked at Todd for a moment and then said, “One of the things we need is a spy. We need someone to slip into Glenbard quietly, so Logan won’t notice, and act like a regular citizen. Todd, will you do it?”

  “Sure I will. No sweat!”

  That made them laugh. Then Lisa turned to Jill. “Can you figure out a good disguise for Todd? He’s going to be our spy. It has to be a perfect disguise. I’d hate to think of what they’d do to him if he were ever caught.” Jill thought about it.

  “Todd, you’ll have to tell us how the place is set up now. You can pass messages to our friends inside.”

  “Sure, Lisa,” he said.

  “Okay, Todd should leave tonight. I’m tired now, and I feel like resting a little while. Let me know when the disguise is ready.”

  Lisa wanted to think more about the plan, but she was still very weak. While the sun warmed her body, she quickly fell asleep. The whole day passed while she lay on the couch. Plans drifted in and out of her dreams. Sometimes she was in a battle. At other times, she was in her chamber plotting out the future.

  Jill and Todd tried many disguises. Most of them were hilarious. But none of them seemed to be real enough. They tried marking his face up with fake scars and parting his long hair down the middle. They used a package of hair dye from the neighboring farm. They laughed at the dark-haired Todd. But the disguise still wasn’t good enough.

  Craig spent most of his day
out in the sun with Erika. They saw the bodies in the cattle barn. They saw the wonderful modern equipment in the huge garage—a new tractor, a corn picker, a set of plows. “With all this stuff, I guess it’s a big farm,” said Craig. “Eighty acres anyway.” But he couldn’t be sure from looking at the farmyard.

  While Erika played in the empty chicken coop, Craig went inside to investigate the old farmer’s study. He touched every book and thumbed through many of them. He sure knew what he was doing, Craig thought to himself. Just look at all his records. It’d be no sweat to get it going again!

  He searched through all the drawers of the desk until he found what he wanted—a big ring of keys. He picked them up and ran out of the study. He tiptoed past Lisa’s sleeping figure, slipped out the door, and ran at full speed to the equipment garage. Was he afraid to let her know what he was thinking? He would tell her about it later.

  All he could think of now was the tractor. “Come on, Erika!” he ordered. “Hop up on the seat with me. Sure there’s room. We’ll make room. We’re going to take a tour of our new farm.

  “It’s almost spring. No, it is spring! It’s the middle of May. Pretty soon we’ll be planting our crops. You’re a big girl now, Erika. Do you think you can run the house and learn to cook? If I can learn to farm, you can learn to cook!”

  While they talked, Craig fumbled with the gear shift on the tractor. He pushed and tugged and wished he could swear. Maybe that wasn’t the shift lever. He tried every other stick or button he could reach. No . . . nothing. Finally, he gave up and said, “I’ll figure it out later. Come on, Erika, we’ll just have to walk around our farm.”

  The walk took several hours. It was a much larger farm than he’d imagined. By the time the tired children returned to the farmhouse, they had seen every hill, every fence, and every inch of ground on the place. They knew they would like their new home.