“Good to meet you, Lance,” Naomi said. “Can you tell me where everyone went?”
Lance shook his head. “Everyone has left.”
“I can see that,” Naomi joked to lighten the mood. “Look, my friends are very sick. Do you know where I can get some medicine?”
Lance suddenly grinned ear to ear. “Yeah, what do you need?”
His sudden cooperation made Naomi uncomfortable.
Lance pushed the cart closer. Naomi forced herself to not look toward Conner and Dean. She wanted to keep their placement hidden. As the cart neared, Naomi kept her friendly, curious smile. She wanted to hide all fear. Something about this felt strange.
About ten feet from the cart, Lance stopped.
She froze and watched him reach into the cart. A toothy grin curved up his face. He winked and pulled out a sawed-off shotgun. Naomi’s heart dropped into her stomach as the man held the weapon waist high with the barrel pointed to her mid-section.
“Aw, scared?” Lance taunted with a mocking frown. Suddenly, he chuckled.
Naomi felt the world spinning. Just the idea of a gun this close petrified her.
Lance rolled his shoulders. “Hey boys! We got ourselves a fresh one!”
A half-dozen men stepped out from behind nearby buildings. They were armed to the teeth with hunting rifles, shotguns, and pistols. Being this far south, it was not surprising everyone owned a gun.
Naomi wanted to see what her allies would do. She didn’t want to move in case that the sawed-off went off.
The men looked her up and down, pleased with what they saw. One of them said a joke too quiet for her to hear. The other men chuckled.
Lance flicked his shotgun to the side. “Come with us, sweetheart. It’s too cold out here for a pretty woman to be outside all by herself. We’ll warm you up, nice and good.”
Boom!
A thunderous gunshot echoed into the sky.
The six men scattered.
Boom! Boom!
Lance cursed and went scrambling for cover.
Naomi dropped prone and covered her head with her hands. She shut her eyes and listened as the gunfire zipped over her. If there was a time for prayers, this was it.
There was a scream, followed by mass confusion.
“How many are there?!” a stranger yelled.
“Fall back! Fall back!”
“Go! Go! Go!”
Footsteps and gunfire faded.
It was the longest forty seconds of Naomi’s life.
Shaking, she took her hands from her head and looked down the street.
Empty.
Quick steps neared her. Calvin squatted down next to her. “Naomi, are--look at me.”
Naomi turned to Calvin. His parted hair was disheveled and his glasses were off kilter. He held the pistol in one hand. Naomi hugged him. Conner and Dean rushed out of cover with their guns drawn. Conner fed more slugs into his shotgun. “Naomi, are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” Naomi said breathlessly.
Dean paced around, keeping the revolver armed. “We can still catch them.”
Calvin helped Naomi to her feet. “That seems like a stupid idea. Let’s just get in the car and go.”
Conner coughed. “If we want that medicine, it may be our only chance.”
Dean nodded in agreement. “They won’t expect us to chase them.”
Calvin looked to Naomi.
She took a deep breath. “Let’s get these guys.”
Leaving the shopping cart behind, the four of them raced down the road. Dean led the charge. Unarmed, Naomi stayed in the back. They didn’t have a trail to follow, so they stuck close to the buildings and moved quickly. They rounded a corner, seeing the DMV office. The window blinds on the door waved a little as if recently disturbed. Naomi pointed ahead. “There.”
Hearts pounding, they moved up as a unit. Naomi wondered what the hell she was doing. Chasing after armed men, this was pure madness. Nevertheless, she pushed onward with no intention of looking back. Do I have a death wish? she asked herself and wondered what would happen if she got shot today. Who would take care of Trinity? Who would keep Allen in good temperament? Naomi felt sick. She needed to abort the mission and go back home. The mission was bound to fail. Worst of all, she was doing this for an old man who probably didn’t care.
They reached the door to the DMV. Calvin and Naomi crouched on one side. Dean and Conner went to the other. Dean made a number of quick hand signs that Naomi couldn’t comprehend. When he finished, Naomi took a deep breath. Everyone but Naomi took time to nod and ready their weapons.
Conner leaned in. “Don’t think about it. Rely on perception and instinct.”
After saying the words, Conner spun around, aimed the shotgun at the door, and pulled the trigger. Following the barrel’s fiery blast, the glass exploded into flurry of crystal shards. Conner dashed into the broken door, slamming it open with his body. Dean followed.
Then Calvin and Naomi trailed in last. They pushed into the entrance and rounded the corner to the waiting area. One of the seven thugs rested on a row of chairs. He clenched the bullet hole in his upper shoulder. Three other men were holding him down while the fourth was pressing a rag against the wound to stanch the bleeding.
Conner, Dean, and Calvin swarmed in before they could get the draw on them.
Lance gawked.
Dean eyed the men. “Weapons, please.”
Conner aimed the shotgun square at Lance’s face. He tossed his sawed-off shotgun aside.
The other bandits copied, sending their weapons away.
Naomi still couldn’t calm her heart. She spoke up, surprised by her own voice. “Medicine or people start dying.”
She didn’t know what brought on the violent spell, but she shocked the crowd as much as herself.
Lance slowly rose up with his hands raised. “We don’t have much.”
Dean kept him at gunpoint. “Bring all of it.”
Lance locked his jaw and nodded. Conner followed him into the receptionist area and out of sight.
With mixed looks of terror and anger, the six men looked at Naomi, Dean, and Calvin.
Tears rolled down the cheeks of the injured thug as he grimaced in pain.
Dean looked them with a certain fire in his grey eyes. He enjoyed this, Naomi could tell. She was just glad to have him on her side. Unlike Dean, the blood had drained from Calvin’s face the moment they busted in. He kept the pistol aimed with a shaking hand. The thugs outnumbered them, but Naomi hoped none of them would be foolish enough to make a move.
She walked over and picked up one of the rifles. It was a cheap hunting rifle you’d find at the Walmart discount section. She didn’t know her way around it, but she knew how to aim. Keeping the gun trained on these thugs was necessary to keep the peace, but Naomi felt dirty. Society had conditioned her to never, ever point a gun at someone and only shoot if you plan to kill. Naomi had no plans of aiming away, and she’d shoot to maim if anything. In a world without medical professionals, an injury was far more of a burden on a group than a death. If they planned to tend the one with the gunshot wound, it probably slow the group for weeks.
Naomi bounced her eyes between them. “Where did the town go?”
No reply.
“Answer me,” Naomi demanded.
One of the men spoke up, “They left.”
“Why?”
The man shrugged.
Another looked up from his dirty boots and said. “Because it was getting too dangerous.”
“How come?” Naomi asked.
“Rumors,” Another said. “Threats that someone was coming to kill them. They left. We stayed.”
His words concerned Naomi. “It's not easy for country folk to uproot from their homes. Most of them have been living in these parts for generations.”
One of the younger thugs had a mop of blond hair, crooked teeth, and zits glowing around the right side of his chapped lip. “We paid the toll; that’s why they didn’t get us.”<
br />
A gruff-looking thug punched his arm and hushed.
“What toll?” Naomi asked.
The thugs averted their eyes.
Before they could reply, Conner and Lance returned. Conner walked in front of them and shoved Lance to the ground. As the thug scurried back to his posse, Conner held up a shopping bag only an eight full with pill bottles. He wore a heavy frown. “This is…” He coughed and recovered. “This is all they have, he says.”
Dean looked down at the people. “That true?”
“We traded the rest away,” the injured one said, followed by a grimace of pain.
“To whom?” Dean asked.
“Just these guys,” another man replied. “They gave us weapons in return.”
“Who are they?” Calvin asked.
The injured man gasped. “I don’t know… Never gave us names…”
Conner handed off the bag of pill bottles to Naomi. She shook the bag, listening to the pills clattering in the bottle. She looked into the dozen eyes of thugs, wondering if they were rapists and thieves, or farm folk corrupted by the idea of lawlessness.
Dean smiled at them. “We should take their stuff.”
Conner sniffled. “Sounds like a good idea, brother.”
“Guys,” Naomi said firmly. “We have the medicine.”
Conner looked at her with disbelief. “And how far do you think that will get us? We don’t know if that’s the right medication. These people held you at gunpoint. They deserve this. If not you, they’ll go after someone else.”
Calvin frowned. “They make a good point, Naomi.”
Naomi looked down at her feet. She pursed her lips and said nothing as Conner and Dean stepped forward and had a few members lead them to the hidden cache.
Naomi and Calvin remained in the room.
It was a long thirty minutes. She watched the thug’s expression change from dread to rage.
When they finished, Conner and Dean had trash bags full of shirts, socks, underwear, canned food, bullets, weapons, knives, and fire starters. They nearly filled the back of the Rover.
“Calvin, fetch their weapons,” Dean commanded.
Calvin obeyed, snatching up the rifles and pistol. Naomi stayed still, watching the injured man sink further into death. His skin had lost its color. Sweat glued his hair to his forehead. He shivered lightly.
Leaving the thugs behind, they headed back to the Rover and drove away.
Dean organized his new collection of guns. Conner sifted through medicine, water, and warm clothes. Naomi was left only with the rifle.
Her stomach churned as she thought of what she had just done. Two weeks after the EMP activated and she was already slipping into barbarism.
They returned home without saying a word. Allen opened the gate. The Rover drove inside. Naomi thought she should be feeling triumph. Instead she felt numb and empty.
They got to the dining room table and sifted through the loot.
A moment later, Allen walked into the room. He had a stern expression on his face. He looked at the Ryan brothers as they laid out the various items. Allen said nothing for a long moment. His silence had become his signature.
“What?” Conner asked.
“It’s your father,” Allen said.
“What about him?”
“He’s not doing well. See for yourself.” Both of the Ryans rushed out of the living room and toward the bunking area.
Allen looked over the table and said to Naomi. “Good supply run.”
“We took it from a gang. They tried to attack me, but the Ryans and Calvin help route them. We were able to take their things,” Naomi admitted guiltily. She hated concealing the truth from her brother.
He put a hand on her shoulder. “It's a dog eat dog world out there, Naomi,” Allen said. “You best get used to it.”
Before she could reply, someone shouted her name from the other side of the compound. It sounded like Conner. She excused herself and raced through the halls.
She turned into the bunks, seeing the door already open. Having kicked the covers off his bed, Fergus lay on his side. His frail, tattooed body shivered uncontrollably. Drool and foam fell out of the corner of his thin lips.
“Abigail.” Fergus mumbled in his fever gaze. “Abigail… Keep the baby, Abigail.”
Dean stood a pace back. Conner couched next to the bed and squeezed his father's boney, tattooed hand. He reared his head back to Naomi with a look of complete panic. “What do we do?”
Naomi took a step closer. She smelled something sour. Something she’d never smelled before. It was the sharp, lingering stench of death.
Conner looked at her, his eyes watering. He looked to Naomi for answers.
“I’m not that kind of doctor,” she said quietly.
She watched the hope leave Conner’s eyes.
Naomi crossed her arms, making herself small. The old man slipped deeper into the unknown illness. Allen lingered in the doorway. Naomi barked at him. “Get the medicine from the table.”
Allen stood as still as a statue. His face was unreadable. His eyes were on Fergus.
Seeing his lack of response, Naomi rushed past him. Their shoulders bumped as Naomi darted into the hall. The door on the opposite side of the room opened. Cathleen clenched the sides of the door frame. Her unruly hair shot out in wires and fell over her pale, sweaty face. Her eyes had sunken deep into her head. Her chapped lips hung partly open. Weak breaths escaped her mouth. “Naomi…” her voice crocked.
Naomi stopped mid-sprint and twisted back to her.
Cathleen struggled to keep her eyes open. “Medicine... water.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Naomi said as she rushed down the hall and Cathleen went to vomit. Naomi made it back into the kitchen where Calvin was in the process of meticulously organizing the looted supplies. Weapon sat next to weapons. Cans were grouped together. Water bottles were set aside. Naomi rushed to the medicine bag and pulled it open. She pulled out the bottles and swiftly read the labels: Aspirin, Nyquil, a bottle of penicillin, cephalexin, azithromycin, levofloxacin, bactrim, sumycin, and tobrex.
She looked at the bottles, unsure what the hell any of them did. Previously, she was using Mucinex and Zyrtec-D. That was for the cold. Whatever Fergus had was much worse, and the grab bag of random medicine didn’t boost Naomi’s confidence. She handed half of the bottles to Calvin.
“Read these. See if you can find out what they treat.”
Calvin stood with a dumbfounded expression as Naomi rushed for the stairs. She bolted up the steps, holding the small bag of bottles. She turned into Allen’s study and glanced at the various how-to guides and textbooks. She found three thick tomes on medicine and grabbed them swiftly. As she reached for the fourth, she heard footsteps. She glanced over to Trinity before continuing her search. “Glad you’re here. Help me look for any more medical textbooks.”
Trinity didn’t move.
Peeved, Naomi turned back to her, ready to shout. Then she noticed her daughter's condition. Wearing sweats with a matching grey sweater, her daughter leaned on the door frame. Her hair was disheveled. Her eyes were downcast. Her face was sickly green. She looked like she’d lost ten pounds.
“I don’t feel good, Mom,” she said shamefully.
The words sunk deep. Naomi set the textbooks on the desk and looked at her daughter with pity. “Oh, baby. Get some rest, okay?”
“Where?” Trinity asked. “Becca and Cathleen are sick, too. I don’t want to sleep with them.”
Naomi took a deep breath. She saw the door to her room. “You can sleep in my room.”
Trinity looked at her with a guilty expression. “You sure?”
“Positive,” Naomi said with her best fake smile.
Trinity turned back around and shambled to the bedroom. Naomi waited until she was gone before pinching the bridge of her nose. It felt like the world was crashing down on her. She snatched the pile of textbooks, holding them in two hands with the pill bag’s handles la
ced between her middle and ring finger. She returned to the bunks. Cathleen had left her door open. Becca shivered on the bunk above her. Cathleen slept soundly with the wash bucket at the foot of the bed. Naomi entered Fergus’s room and set the textbooks on the desk along with the medication.
“These might help. I’d advice not taking medication we’re unsure of. Here are a few books.”
Conner knelt next to Fergus, his head down on the man’s chest as if praying. Dean stood apart, watching with wide, alert eyes, unsure what to do.
Naomi called him over and sat him down. “You want to save your father, start reading. Once we figure out what he has, we’ll know how to stop it.”
Dean nodded and opened the book of common illnesses to the first page.
Naomi took one of the books with her and headed to the living room. It was partly because she didn’t want to get sick, but the main reason was for escaping the stress. The day had been long and hectic already. To take time to study a glossary of medical terms was not what Naomi would call a good time. She crashed on the couch and began swift through the textbook. Two long hours later, she learned about twenty different diseases that could be affecting the Ryans and possibly her daughter. They ranged from pneumonia to six-syllable words she couldn’t pronounce.
Before she knew it, it was time for dinner. Illuminated by candlelight and the twilight hour sun, they gathered in the dining room.
Naomi set the open medical book on her lap and leafed through it tiredly. Calvin scooted into the adjacent seat with an intense look on his tired face. His black eye and other wounds from Philly had fully recovered, but the heavily-rationed food and lack of sleep sunk his cheeks and created dark circles under his eyes. Feet dragging, Trinity entered and sat next to him. Her hair was in a loose bun. Her sleeves extended past her hands. She could barely keep her eyes open. Opposite of them, Dean sat alone. Becca, Fergus, and Cathleen were all absent. Looking absolutely miserable, Conner claimed his seat at the head of the table and rested his cheekbone on the ball of his hand. It was by sheer force of will that he made to the table.
Allen entered with bowls of rabbit meat and other canned goods they got from the loot run. He took a seat and allowed the Ryan brothers to serve themselves first. After everyone got a full plate of food, Allen filled his plate and cut the meat delicately with his knife. He plucked it up neatly with his fork, seemingly unconcerned with the missing people.
Aftermath (Book 1): Aftermath Page 8
