Post Grid: An Arizona EMP Adventure

by Tony Martineau

  “We had fires all over Fountain Hills, too,” Jared said weakly, squinting in pain.

  “Looks like the bullet is still in there. It will have to come out eventually. The side of the road isn't a good place to do it, though. I'm just going to take a quick look.” She intended more than a quick look, but didn't want Jared to know yet. “Too bad it missed your vest. High and to the outside.”

  Kelly went back to her horses and got her canteen, some pain pills, a bottle of skin cleanser, some exam gloves and a bandana from her first aid kit. As she returned to her patient, Jared looked warily at the supplies in her hands.

  “What you planning?”

  “First of all, I'm going to give you a couple of pain pills.” Then Kelly fired off a series of questions. “Are you allergic to anything? Are you sensitive to pain medicines? You aren't going to fall off that horse over there if I give you these, are you?”

  “No I'm not, just give me the damn pills,” Jared said as he put his hand out, palm up. The warm water from Kelly's canteen followed the tablets down his throat. “Ahhhh, even hot water is so good when you're thirsty.”

  “Hm, a little fight left in ya—you might just make it. I'm not going to dig for it here. But it sure would be nice if that bullet was near the surface so I could get it out right away. Less chance of an infection that way,” Kelly said in an authoritarian tone, not looking him in the eye.

  Jared knew he wasn't going to dissuade her, and probably shouldn't, so he said, “Yes, ma'am,” slowly and with a little drawl.

  She put on her gloves, poured warm water onto the clean bandana and added a touch of soap. The soap was worked into a lather, then used to clean the wound and the skin around it.

  “Take a deep breath.”

  Jared's breath caught in his throat as Kelly poked her gloved fingertip gingerly into the wound. The maneuver made her squint in that way nurses and doctors do when they have to hurt their patients during a procedure. Jared held his breath, but didn't yell.

  “I don't feel anything solid.”

  “Damn! Get your finger out of there then,” Jared said, finally releasing his breath.

  Both sat without speaking for a few seconds. Jared was breathing heavily. Finally he said softly, “Sorry. I'm glad you didn't find it, I think. At least it puts off that bit of torture for awhile. We'll let the doctors do it under anesthesia.”

  “I only wish that could be true.” Kelly continued to dry and dress the wound. Jared bunched up his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly, like a dog asking a question. “I wasn't kidding when I said there was no hospital to go back to,” she continued. “Did you see any clinics operating in Fountain Hills? I know they don't have a hospital.”

  “I don't think there is anything left open in Fountain Hills, unless you include broken-into,” said Jared.

  “The next closest facility is the Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale, but that is miles and miles in the wrong direction. Anything toward town is the wrong direction. Here, let me help you get what is left of your shirt back on.” She tried to move Jared's bad shoulder as little as possible. “It won't do for you have a third-degree sunburn on top of that hole in your shoulder.

  Kelly made one more trip to the saddle bags and got out a bottle of Rocephin—a powerful, wide-spectrum antibiotic—along with a small bottle of sterile water, a syringe, and a wad of gauze. She mixed the powdered antibiotic with the water, then rolled the vial between her palms. When it was thoroughly dissolved, she plunged the needle through the rubber stopper and withdrew the yellow liquid. Jared stared with dread in his eyes, just as any five-year-old would do.

  “That needle looks three inches long. I have a feeling that this is non-negotiable too?”

  “It's only an inch and a half. This is an antibiotic,” Kelly said. “That bullet won't kill you, but the infection will. Give me a hip.”

  Jared grimaced. “It's been years since I've had an injection. I can't remember ever having one in the hip. You don't mean hip at all, do you?”

  Kelly ignored that rhetorical question. “This won't hurt much and I won't see anything,” she assured him.

  Jared rolled very slightly to his right side, allowing Kelly access to the waistband of his brown uniform pants. She exposed about two inches below his belt to give the injection.

  “Hold your breath,” Kelly said. Nurses only said that to give their patients something else to think about. She plunged the needle in up to the hub. The plunger, depressed slowly, dispensed the medication. Then, with one smooth motion, the needle was withdrawn. “All done.”

  “Man, you're all business, aren't you lady?” Jared said, hiking up his pants with his good arm.

  “No reason not to be. You're hurt and I'm a nurse. I'll do everything I can to help you, but there is no reason to be all mushy about it.”

  “I thought nurses were sentimental, caring types.”

  “I've been a war nurse and an OB nurse. I've seen people die and be born all of my adult life. I can't always make them live, and if I took ownership of that I'd be a mess. Don't you agree? You think I laugh or cry every day based on the life and death of my patients? Do you cry for your victims and crooks? They're all pitiful, aren't they?”

  “No, I guess I don't much any more, but I'd like to think I still could.” Jared paused. “For the innocents.”

  “I'm sorry, you're right. I've just seen too much death in the last twenty-four hours. I'm probably on the defensive.” Kelly looked up and her eyes met Jared's.

  A smile started from the middle of his mouth, then lifted the corners of his lips almost to his cheek bones. For the first time she really saw him, not his bloody shoulder or his uniform, but his square chin and day-old stubble, his caring eyes. She tried to look away and suppress a full smile, but failed.

  “That's more like it,” said Jared. “You're beautiful when you smile.” He lifted his hand to touch her face.

  Kelly pulled back, out of his reach, and let her smile fade. She kept her eyes trained down on her supplies, and fumbled with her hands. “How hurt are you? Can you travel?”

  Jared furrowed his eyebrows and pursed his lips. “What did I say?”

  “Nothing,” Kelly said coolly. “Can you ride?”

  “I think so. They make it look easy in the movies,” he said, matching her frosty tone.

  Her voice softened, but only a bit. “Don't worry, Pokey is gentle and I'll lead. All I need you to do is hold onto the saddle horn and let me know before you fall off, if you can. We're headed to Sunflower. My mother lives up there. She was a Navy nurse too; retired now, of course. She has a little spread up in the canyon. You can stay 'til you get stronger and things in the city find an equilibrium.” Kelly said it stiffly, like she had rehearsed it.

  She removed the large bandana from around her neck and fashioned a sling for Jared's left arm. When she stood in front of her patient and leaned in, she could smell his sweat, that deep, tinny smell found on working men. She reached around to tie a knot to one side of his neck, then folded some gauze and placed it between Jared's neck and the knot.

  “That won't be very comfortable, but it will have to do for now.” Their eyes met again. Instantly Kelly felt shy. There was something about this guy that was different from anyone else she'd ever met. Or maybe it was just that he was so vulnerable; injured, a patient. It wasn't just the wound, but the impending infection that worried her. She had seen many soldiers live through a wound and die of the raging infection days later, especially if they hadn't gotten immediate treatment. A good reason not to get attached.

  “That feels better already,” Jared said, betraying himself with a pinch of pain showing at the corners of his mouth.

  “Yeah, the sling helps to support the weight of your arm so the injured muscles don't have to go it alone. Your next test is to get on that horse.” Kelly tipped her head toward her second horse.

  “That's a fine horse, she yours?”

  “Yes, he's a sorrel quarter horse, gentle too.”

 
“What does it mean, sorrel?”

  “It's the color of the horse. If a woman's hair were that color, it would be called auburn. His name's Pokey. Rest here a minute.”

  Kelly got out a spare bandana and tied it around her own neck, then repacked her saddlebag. She fashioned a scabbard for the AR-15 out of a pair of jeans and two shoe laces. This was attached to her own horse Hokey's saddle horn. She knew that Jared couldn't work that big gun with only one arm. Jared didn't protest; there was little fight left in him.

  “We need to get going.” She placed Jared's right arm up over her shoulder and around her neck, holding his hand against her collarbone. Then she straightened up, pulling him with her. The two ended standing nose to nose, so close that Kelly could see the tiny flecks of blue, brown and green in his eyes.

  Kelly steadied Jared then bent down for his gun. She took his Kimber .45 pistol and put it back in its holster, looking him square in the eyes as she did it.

  “Trust me, huh?” asked Jared.

  “Yes, sir, I do,” she said.

  The maneuvers it took to get Jared up onto Pokey weren't graceful, but did end in success. Jared's shoulders slumped forward just slightly as he sat in the saddle.

  Hokey resisted momentarily before letting Kelly bring her head around, with the reins, to the northeast. Pokey followed.

  ****

  The sun was high and made the trip uncomfortably warm. Kelly stopped at intervals to give Jared water from her canteen and drink herself. The pair made their way down the shoulder of the highway with relative ease. “Are you sure we should be going north, away from town?” Jared asked.

  Kelly could only imagine what must be going through his mind. It must be scary to be leaving civilization so badly injured and weak.

  “I'll take good care of that shoulder of yours. I have antibiotics and…” she stopped short of saying that everything would be fine. “And they should do the trick.”

  Oh God, what was she saying? She had just made a decision that could mean this man's life. From what she had seen in town, though, her only clear choice was to press on. She and Mom had both assisted in many surgeries and they had antibiotics. They would give it their best.

  As the afternoon went on, she and Jared came upon a Coca-Cola truck that had been broken into. They took a few cans of warm soda and drank one each. The warm, carbonated beverage rolled down their throats, giving little satisfaction. It was a far cry from the icy-cold Cokes they both knew from the convenience stores. They continued on.

  Later, they stopped at the Verde River. The horses went immediately to the water and started drinking. The way they threw their heads down and kept them that way, made it hard for Jared to stay mounted. Kelly dismounted, then helped Jared do the same. It took a lot of work to get Jared up next to a large rock under a tree. He was weaker after his ride. The shade, provided by the wispy desert tree, was dappled with sunlight at best, and provided little relief from the heat.

  Heat radiated from the sand that stretched to the water's edge. Kelly walked to the river and untied the bandana from around her neck, dipping it in unceremoniously. She returned to Jared and wiped his face gently while studying his fine features. She rolled up his long sleeves and bathed his forearms with the cool liquid. Jared watched her silently, thankfully. Kelly returned to the river's edge and wet her bandana again. She raised it to her face and wiped it down around her jaw, squeezing it to release the water down her front.

  “I'd do the same for you if this weren't dirty river water and you didn't have a hole in your shoulder,” Kelly said as she returned to Jared carrying her canteen of clean water. She put it to his lips and let him drink. He gulped greedily, a small trickle escaping the corner of his mouth.

  “I'll get you a bed roll for your head,” Kelly said softly. “I think you should rest.”

  “You'll get no complaint from me,” Jared managed.

  Kelly helped Jared to lie down and positioned his shoulder for as much comfort as he could achieve. He fell asleep immediately.

  As Jared slept, Kelly gathered firewood and started a small fire. She strained river water through a paper coffee filter into her coffee pot. After it had boiled for a few minutes, she filled an empty canteen. Repeating the process, every container she had was filled. It would be a long push to her mother's from here without another water source. Water was life itself in the desert.

  After about an hour, Kelly whispered, “Wake up, sleepy-head. We need to put some distance between us and the river before the sun goes down. People and animals will be drawn to the water's edge and we both need a good night's sleep. Neither of us are fit to take watch all night long. I'm so sorry, Jared. I can tell you really could use the rest but…”

  Jared smiled softly. He forced himself to get up. “Why do we have to hurry? I understand getting away from the river but...”

  “Three reasons. Unless you have some food stashed in your uniform somewhere, we can't afford to be hanging around out here in the desert. I only packed for one person, me, and only brought enough for three days. The way I count it, that gives us each a day and a half, two days if we both go hungry most of it. It doesn't allow for any delays either. Two, people will become more desperate by the minute and be willing to kill for what they think we have. And three, I hate to remind you but that bullet has to come out, and soon too.”

  Kelly guided the horses about a hundred feet off the highway to avoid the people walking west. This made it rough going for Jared because of the brush and uneven terrain. In many places, it slowed their pace to a crawl.

  As they traveled, Kelly talked out loud so that Jared could hear her thoughts.

  “I figure it's about sixty miles between Fountain Hills and Payson. If people had been stranded on the highway, they would wait for several hours for help and then start walking. They would go north to Payson or south toward the big cities. In either case, at three miles per hour—the average human walking speed—it would take them twenty hours to get to their destination. Families and the elderly will take longer. That means that the road will have people on it for several days. As time goes by, some will succumb to heat and dehydration. It's sad, but I can't come up with a single remedy for them that doesn't put our own lives in jeopardy.”

  Jared didn't talk much; Kelly had to guess it was the pain and exhaustion. She watched him closely for signs that he was no longer able to ride.

  At about five o'clock, Kelly looked for a suitable campsite. The arroyo to their left, a dry creek bed, would do. She guided the horses further into the desert. When she found a good spot, Kelly helped Jared down from his horse and leaned him up against a small tree. Hastily, the nurse made her patient a place to lie on the sandy, dry river bottom. Rocks had to be moved from the area by hand, but the sand bar, overhung with branches, was relatively flat and smooth. A sleeping bag over a serape—a traditional Mexican wool blanket—would serve as a bed. The long day had taxed the injured deputy, but he never once complained.

  “Here, let me help you,” Kelly said, pointing to the makeshift accommodations. Jared took her arm and pulled himself to a standing position. The two moved together toward their destination. Jared stumbled but Kelly caught him. She got him to bed, then went back to her horse for something.

  “Here, take these.” Kelly held out two more pain pills.

  “You're an angel,” Jared said taking the pills and popping them into his mouth. He reached out and took the canteen. Their hands touched briefly and Kelly felt a definite spark at the contact.

  The pain pills hadn't had time to take effect, but that didn't stop the officer from falling asleep. Kelly set up a picket line between two small trees for the horses so they could graze on whatever green vegetation they could find without wandering away. The next task was preparing a meal.

  After an hour or so, a nice pile of wood was stacked next to the campfire, where water was heating for their noodles. Kelly wanted the firewood in case they needed it during the night, but she did not intend to keep a fire g
oing any longer than it took her to heat water. It wasn't yet dark, but when the sun was fully down, a fire would be easy to spot in the desert. It would attract anyone looking for food and water. Kelly patted her trusty Ruger.

  Camp wasn't much, but the sun was setting and it made a brilliant display in the western sky. Arizona was known for its sunsets and for good reason. Many, like this one, filled the sky with brilliant colors that played among the clouds.

  Jared slept through dinner. They each had had a granola bar and plenty of water during their afternoon ride. Kelly thought it was more important that he get some rest. Dinner was a lonely affair that ended when she found herself sitting in the dark, admiring the stars. There was no ambient light from Phoenix, a city of four million people, to make the customary bright-white glow to the southwest. The stars shone more brightly than Kelly could ever remember. It was getting colder by the minute. When the sun sets on the desert, temperatures drop quickly.

  Kelly tried to stay warm by wrapping her coat around her legs, but even with the chaps, they were cold. The desert floor was cold. Sand didn't hold heat very long. The ground would pull any remaining warmth from her body if she lay on it without insulation. An alternative was to keep a fire going all night and stay near it. Exhaustion made that option unappealing; front hot, back icy, sitting up all night. A pack of coyotes howled and yipped in their eerie way, making the night seem colder and the location seem even more remote. Kelly turned her head and gazed at Jared.

  He was sleeping so soundly that he probably wouldn't mind if she shared “her” sleeping bag with him. Kelly reasoned that he had lost a lot of blood and could use her body heat to fend off hypothermia as well. Strong hands removed boots, belts, chaps and coat, and then a tired body slipped slowly into the bag behind Jared. It took some maneuvering to position the coat, with the guns in it, next to the head of the bed.

  Jared didn't move. Kelly's body fit his nicely, and the whole bag was warm and cozy. Slow, steady breathing joined the sounds of the nighttime desert and marked the rise and fall of his chest. Kelly felt warm all over. She snuggled closer to Jared than she probably needed to. Exhaustion enveloped her. She worried briefly about her wounded officer, then worried no more.