“Thank you,” Kathleen said quietly.
“Of course,” Nikki said, and patted Jade on the back. “Looks like you’ll live to fight another day, soldier.”
Jade grinned. “That’s what I like to hear. Let me grab my supplies, and I’ll meet you out front.”
Nikki nodded in agreement and Wyatt stood. Max slunk out of the room behind them.
“Good luck,” Matthew said just before they disappeared from his line of sight. “And thank you.”
Alone with his mother and wife, he let out a deep breath and saw that the women were watching him, as if waiting for him to give them instructions. Matthew’s mind began to whirl with everything that had happened. If felt as though they’d hardly gotten their breath back before another catastrophe was forcing them to re-enter the dangerous world. He put a hand on his forehead and pushed back the hair that had stuck to his skin. The one thing that he kept coming back to was the bottled water.
“We don’t have much bottled water left, do we?” he asked.
“We have enough,” Kathleen said. “We should keep it in reserve for David, though. Like Nikki said, we don’t want him to get sick by drinking something else.”
“That means we need water for the rest of us. There’s that river that runs close to Galena.”
“You’re not going on an expedition alone, Matt,” Kathleen said, seeming to cut him off at the pass. “You heard what Jade said. We should stay around here to be with David.” She indicated Ruth, who had gone back to holding David’s hand and watching her husband with a look of sorrow on her face.
She was right. Of course she was right. “Okay,” Matthew said, “maybe I can go and search the property for that well that Wyatt mentioned.”
“A well?” Kathleen asked.
“When I first met Wyatt, he wanted to trade with us so that he and the gun club could have access to a well on the hotel’s property,” Matthew explained. “He said it was run-down when he was small, but that he definitely remembers it being on our land.”
“I didn’t even know that,” Kathleen said. “What else don’t we know?”
“Makes me feel stupid, that’s for sure,” Matthew finally admitted. “A stranger knew more about our property than we did.”
“It wasn’t something we would be looking for,” Kathleen said softly. “We wouldn’t have known.”
“If I can find it and it’s functional, we could get water out of it. Boil it if we have to, at first, but at least then we would know if we had water close by or not. Then we could save all the bottled water for Dad.”
“It’s a start,” Kathleen said and gave him an encouraging smile.
“Will the two of you be okay watching over him?” Matthew asked, refusing to look at the limp figure in the bed. “I want to see what I can find.”
“Of course,” Kathleen said and pulled the accent chair closer to the bed for her to sit on. “Just come back soon, okay?”
“I will,” Matthew said and headed for the door. He took one last look at the shell of the man David used to be, before his resolve hardened and he left the room.
5
Once outside, Matthew took in a couple of deep breaths of the fresh mountain air and tried to expel the dread pitting his stomach. Intrusive thoughts threatened to overwhelm him. He couldn’t focus on the negative. Focusing instead on the vista of jagged peaks in the distance, Matthew counted his blessings.
The first blessing was that his father was still alive. Unconscious, yes, but breathing. All thanks to Nikki. The second blessing was that he had a group of trusted friends and family, people who were willing to risk their lives going into Galena to collect medical supplies. All thanks to Jade and Wyatt. The third blessing was that the hotel had enough bottled water to keep David hydrated through these hard times. But that blessing would soon run out.
But that wouldn’t matter if Matthew had anything to say about it. Because thanks to Matthew, he was going to figure that problem out and solve it. He would find the well that was on the property. Once he did that, their limited water resources would free up, allowing him to conserve all the bottled water for his father. If he didn’t do this, then David would be in even more danger as their supplies dwindled. Now more than ever, Matthew needed to find the well.
But where to start looking? Matthew’s gaze eased away from the mountains to survey the land spreading out before him. He must have walked the property a hundred times since returning to the River Rock Hotel, and he’d never seen anything resembling a well. He had no idea where to start, or what the well might even look like.
Walking the property again seemed like a waste of time. If he hadn’t found the well before now, he doubted he would with one more lap. Perhaps he could unearth the blueprints of the hotel and search for some indication of where it might be. Matthew’s mouth hardened into a tight line. No. He couldn’t keep spinning his wheels on actions that had been done before. He couldn’t be as mule-headed as he’d been before, and think he could do everything all on his own. This time, he would try to find help.
Wyatt said he was a long-time resident of Galena. That he’d played on the hotel’s property when he was small. If Wyatt remembered the well, Matthew was positive that other Galena natives would, too. And where would they be? The gun club.
With a nod of self-assertion, Matthew looked up at the sky and saw there was still daylight enough for him to walk to the club for advice and make it back to the hotel again. Even though his feet were beginning to ache and his legs wished for a rest, Matthew knew he had no time for such things. His father’s life hung in the balance, and if finding a well was the solution, then so be it.
Matthew had a plan, and he headed off the property and back down the mountain road.
By the time he made it to the gun club, the ache in his feet had upgraded to a throb. In the back of his mind, Matthew wondered what would happen when he finally wore through his boots, and hoped that it would take him many years before he had to face that obstacle. Gravel crunched under his feet as he walked up to the long rectangular building. In the daylight, it had a brownish-yellow exterior with shrubs and flower beds that looked like they needed a good weeding. Some of the beds had been turned over, and it looked like plants had been freshly planted in the rich soil. A garden, he figured.
A rickety ladder was propped up against the side where it looked as if someone had recently been cleaning out the gutters. Long boards of plywood were on the ground next to a hammer, and it appeared as if someone was reinforcing the weak spots in the shingles and strengthening the windows. Other tools were on the dirt and grass, as if the laborer had stopped their hard work for a lunch break and would be returning soon.
No doubt about it. The members were reinforcing the gun club much as the Rileys had done the hotel.
As Matthew approached the front door, he hesitated. He honestly had no idea what to expect from the gun club. Had Wyatt told the members about the Rileys and their problems? Was the gun club more of a safe house or a waystation for members to meet up before going off to their own homes and shelters? He realized he’d never taken much time to speak with Wyatt about the club in general, and made a vow to do better in the future. If these people were going to become his allies, he should do the proper thing and let them know they could borrow a cup of sugar if they needed to. Maybe he’d bake them a cake or have them over for lunch. Something to show his good intentions, even though it would look much different in this post-apocalyptic world. At this point, a cup of sugar was a luxury.
He was raising a hand to knock on the door when a cautious voice called out to him. “Can I help you?”
Matthew turned to see a man, most likely in his thirties, with sandy blonde hair and wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. The man wore a jean jacket and dirt-covered boots. He held a small basket that looked to be full of boxes of mismatched screws and nails.
“Nice to meet you,” Matthew said, turning his smile up to its full wattage. “I’m Matthew Riley from the Riv
er Rock Hotel just up the mountain.”
“Oh, right,” the man said, eyeing Matthew up and down and barely returning the smile. “Wyatt told us a little about you. He here?”
“No,” Matthew said. “He’s gone into Galena to see if he can get some medical supplies. My father was hurt, unfortunately.”
“Sorry to hear it,” the man said.
Matthew waited for the guy to give out his name, but instead they ended up staring at each other. Matthew began to feel uneasy, but more in the way that he might have interrupted a socially awkward person, rather than feeling he was being threatened. He decided to take a chance and see what happened. “Wyatt and I talked about a well being on the hotel’s property,” Matthew said. “I’m looking to see if someone here might have an idea of where to find it. Maybe there’s a long-time Galena resident around I could talk to?”
“Hmm,” the young man huffed and walked up to the door. He rapped on it with a series of taps, and after a moment, the sound of bolts being drawn back filled Matthew’s ears. The man pushed open the newly unlocked door and looked at Matthew. “My name is Shawn,” he said. “Let’s go inside and talk about that well.”
“I’d like that,” Matthew said as he followed Shawn inside the gun club.
As soon as they entered, a young teenager standing at the door pushed it closed and re-bolted the locks. He clambered back on a chair next to the door and opened up a book, glancing out the window every now and then to see if anyone was coming up the lane. A sentinel. Good idea.
Matthew blinked in the dark interior of the club. It looked like a recreation area, with one big room full of sleeping bags, mounds of blankets, and sheets strung between them as if to create some semblance of privacy. Tables had been pushed to one side where old board games like Scrabble and Pictionary were stacked next to a couple of decks of cards. Next to them was a variety of tools—scissors, clippers, screwdrivers, and a water flask with plastic glasses next to it. A communal area, Matthew figured, for workers to take a break both physically and mentally.
The boarded-up windows gave the room a darkened atmosphere, and Matthew realized that the gun club wasn’t meant to house lots of people. The hotel had far more space than this, yet these members had done their best to make it as homey as possible. They had optimized their limited space. He couldn’t believe how far the gun club had come in transforming the club into a place where people could eat and sleep.
“This way,” Shawn said, motioning him away from the main room and down a hallway. They passed a set of bathrooms and a series of other smaller rooms—they might have once been used as classrooms, or possibly spaces for gun safety demonstrations. Matthew peeked through the window of one and saw men and women mending clothes on a long table.
“How many people live here?” Matthew asked as Shawn gestured for him to follow him farther down the hallway. Shawn led him to another room that looked to be an office.
Shawn shrugged and pushed open the door. Inside, an older man with a head full of curly gray hair and a beard to match glanced up from whatever he was studying at the roll-top desk. Papers and thick rolls of maps covered a table pushed to the middle of the room. A corkboard was hung on the far wall and had a receipt of dues tacked to it. An antique firearm was mounted on the opposite wall, and Matthew took a moment to admire the patina on the gold plating, along with the worn gleam of the wooden stock.
“This is Marcus,” Shawn said. “Marcus, this is Matthew. From the hotel.”
Marcus glanced between them. “Ah,” he said in a rough voice. “Nice to meet you.”
Matthew tried not to shift back and forth with discomfort. Instead, he held his hand out for a shake. Marcus took it without question, and Matthew was somehow comforted to find his handshake strong and firm. “I don’t want to take up a lot of your time,” Matthew said, “but Wyatt mentioned that there was a well on the River Rock Hotel’s property, and I’m trying to find out where it might be. I wondered if anyone here might have a memory of the place or perhaps be able to help me locate it.”
Marcus and Shawn exchanged looks. “None of us would remember where it might be,” Marcus said slowly. “We weren’t as rebellious as Wyatt when we were young. Didn’t have access to the place like he did.”
“I see,” Matthew said, trying to hide his disappointment. “Do you have any idea how I could locate it?”
Marcus shifted up from the desk and placed his hands over his stomach. “Well, best thing to do is approach it like you want to dig a well. The Galena-Platteville aquifer is a fairly good one. Illinois has somewhat of an uneven water distribution system because of the soil and sand, but we’re on a pretty good place for well water. Could pull more than seventy gallons per minute to wells around it, from what I know.”
Matthew stared at Marcus as he tried to hold back a sudden wash of irritation. He didn’t need to know if the aquifer was sandstone or the amount pulled from it. He only needed to know if he could feasibly access it. He couldn’t figure out why Marcus and Shawn were giving him the runaround. He got the feeling they didn’t want him here, but didn’t want to be rude about shooing him away. So instead, they would overwhelm him with information until he gave up.
“That’s all great information,” Matthew said slowly. “So, if I had a well there is a good chance it has water, even if it might be run-down?” He dangled the notion in front of the two men like he would candy in front of a temperamental toddler. He hoped that they would see he had water to bargain with and become more open in their conversation.
Shawn moved to sit in one of the rickety metal chairs next to the table. Plush stuffing peeked out of the cracks in the vinyl. “Suppose so,” Shawn said, making Matthew disappointed he didn’t take the bait. “If it wasn’t full of water, you could dig a bit and you’d probably hit something.”
“Would it be hard to find on the land?” Matthew asked.
Marcus and Shawn paused for a moment, giving each other another look.
Matthew took a deep breath and decided he had had enough of the awkward polite talk. He might as well come out and ask what was giving the other two gun club members the spooks about him and the well in general. “I hope I haven’t offended either of you in any way,” Matthew started. “It seems as if you don’t want to admit to knowing anything about the aquifer or the well. Why is that?”
Shawn heaved a sigh and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Well, I suppose we aren’t being very forthcoming. Before Wyatt spoke with you, he had plans to find the well on his own. We’re running out of fresh water, and it’s become somewhat of an issue for everyone living here. But, after investigating your property, Wyatt told us that you and your family would become a threat to us if we happened to go on your land without permission. He feared you wouldn’t be kind to us if we approached you at all. We didn’t want that worry to become a reality.”
“You can trust me,” Matthew said quickly. “We would never hurt you or any members of the gun club.”
“Wyatt says a rogue bullet coming at him says different.”
Matthew swallowed hard, remembering when Jade had given them lessons. He’d overreacted, grabbing a gun and shooting blindly into the woods, when he thought someone was watching them. “I wasn’t in a good headspace for a while, I will admit,” Matthew said. “Neither was my wife or even some of the other members of my family. After everything that’s happened, we’ve seen a lot of the ugly come out in people. We’ve been betrayed by strangers and even people we thought we could trust. But we managed to overcome that. I’m glad Wyatt approached us. He’s been a great ally. I can only hope that we can be just as helpful and trustworthy to you as he has been to us. I want both of our families and friends to thrive in this new world, and I think finding the well is the first place to start. Wyatt has helped me enough that I’d be happy to discuss sharing the water between my family and the members of the gun club.”
A small smile played across Marcus’s lips, and he nodded his head in acceptance. Shawn still looked bla
nkly at Matthew, but Matthew sensed that the bulk of his hostility toward him had diminished. Shawn’s shoulders relaxed as he pushed his glasses up again. Then he stood up and grabbed a folded-up map that had been tacked to the corkboard next to the dues. Unfolding it, he laid the map out on the table and motioned for Matthew to come closer. Matthew took a step forward and peered at a map of Galena.
“There’s a couple of good places where the well might be,” Shawn said, as his finger made a circle around one area of the map. “This is roughly where your land is. Most likely, the well would be close to the hotel. Wyatt said he hadn’t seen any tracks or paths from people hauling water to and fro anywhere. Is that right?” He looked at Matthew.
“Correct,” Matthew said. “I haven’t seen anything like that.”
“Okay,” Shawn continued. “If you haven’t found it yet, then I’d guess the well is further away from the hotel, most likely due to the groundwater flow direction. You want your well to be away from any latrine or sewage so you avoid contamination. Groundwater tends to flow in the direction the ground slopes, so probably they positioned the well in the back of the hotel since they settled the building to face the mountain road that heads down the mountain. Make sense?”
“No one wants to spend money on a nice hotel and watch workers huff and puff hauling water out their front window,” Marcus murmured and adjusted his blue ballcap on his head. “Breaks the fantasy of being on vacation, doesn’t it?”
Matthew nodded. It honestly did make sense. Things he’d never considered suddenly had incredible purpose—slope, ground level, the direction the hotel faced, the marketing aspects that the first architects considered when figuring out where to begin constructing the building.
EMP Catastrophe | Book 3 | Erupting Chaos Page 4
