by Kate Morris
“Let’s eat,” Reagan states angrily and stomps off as her husband drives away, fully expecting Sam to follow, which she does.
To ease the burden of feeding so many extra mouths right now with the new citizens, care of the highwaymen, the sick children and the wounded victims, Hannah and Sue have prepared meals for them to take to town for today and tomorrow until they return home. Depending on how it goes this evening on this recon mission, the men may not be returning for a while. They may need to go back out soon for more than just some reconnaissance.
“What are we having?” Sam asks, unpacking the cooler that John probably placed on the front porch of the practice.
“Who cares? I wouldn’t even be eating if I wasn’t breastfeeding,” Reagan complains and takes a seat on one of the rockers.
“Yum, chicken salad sandwiches,” Sam comments. “I love these. Sue always adds walnuts and apple pieces from the apple trees on the farm.”
Reagan just nods distractedly.
“Here,” Sam instructs, handing her a sandwich wrapped in paper. “Eat. Charlie needs your milk. You need your strength. And…”
“Charlie? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Charlie, you know, short for Charlotte?” Sam says with a bright smile toward her big sister.
“Where’d you get that?”
“John. He and Huntley keep calling her that. Well, I think they mostly call her that when you’re not around.”
Reagan scoffs and says, “They better stop calling her that. She’s gonna grow up to be a tomboy.”
“Like you? What’s so wrong with that?”
“Everything,” she jokes and begins eating.
They enjoy their meal in silence, savoring the flavors and aromas of home. Sue has packed them herb-infused water in canning jars that hits the spot. Her greenhouse has been completely rebuilt and is back up and running since the tornado demolished most of it. They also built a new chicken coop, which is even bigger. Paige drew up the plans for both buildings. Sue now has solar panels on her greenhouse, which will help in the winter with supplying a small amount of heat to it.
“Are those butterscotch bars?” Reagan asks, always the dessert junky.
Sam just nods and hands her one. “Did you eat all of your meal or are you skipping to dessert? Charlie’s never gonna grow if you supply her with breastmilk filled with sweets and sugar.”
“Shut it,” Reagan warns with a grin. “I’m the doctor, remember?”
Sam smiles in return and also helps herself to dessert.
“Have you given any more thought to studying more like your uncle wants you to and becoming a doctor?” Reagan asks.
“Nah, I don’t think it’s for me. Don’t get me wrong. I like helping our patients, but I just don’t want to do this forever.”
Reagan nods and says, “I understand. Hell, this isn’t exactly what I signed up for, either. I thought my field of study was going to be modern medicine…with modern technology and science. Not this survivalist medicine bullshit.”
“But you’re good at it,” Sam points out. Reagan snorts. “I think studying further would take up too much time from the other things I like better. I’ll continue to help my uncle, but I don’t know if I want to become a doctor, too.”
“That’s fine. You weren’t meant to be a doctor…or probably not even a nurse. You’re good at it, but it would eventually squash your artistic side. Do what makes you happy, kiddo. Life’s too short.”
“You can say that again,” Sam concurs with a wink. “I think Melora is really interested in studying medicine, though.”
“Really? She’s never said anything about it. Of course, she never talks all that much when I’m around.”
“It’s not you,” Sam tells her. “She’s just really shy. I think she’s been through a lot, something really bad.”
“And you haven’t?”
Sam swallows the lump of emotion in her throat, suppressing the nightmares of her past, and says, “I had you guys, though. It helped.”
“I don’t know about that. I think it was Simon that helped more than us.”
This isn’t something Sam wants to hear, so she looks away.
“Are you finished?” she asks in a friendly manner. “I’ll clean up if you want to go in the back and rest, get off your feet for a while,” Sam offers smoothly, hoping Reagan will drop the topic.
“I think I’m going to walk back down to the town hall and talk with the sheriff. Derek wanted me to go over a few things with him.”
“He seems to be doing a little better since Cory and Grandpa finished that brace.”
“He may never fully recover back to where he was before, but he can at least be mobile without a walker or a cane.”
“That’s better than being in a wheelchair, too,” Sam adds with hope alive in her heart for her adopted older brother.
Reagan just nods and looks away. “You sure you got this? I can help.”
“No, I’m fine. Come back later to the house and sleep if you want,” Sam suggests.
“No, I think John and me are going to sleep in the medical house upstairs tonight before we head home tomorrow morning. I have a few patients over there I want to keep a close watch on. Besides, your uncle and Simon are sleeping in the other house with you. It isn’t that big.”
“True,” Sam admits. “If this all keeps up, we’re going to need to build a doctors’ dorm.”
Reagan chuckles and nods before leaving. Sam cleans up after their mess, making sure to pack away food for Simon and John for later, hopefully not very much later. She wants them to come home safely and soon.
“Samantha,” her uncle says behind her as she finishes washing their dinner plates.
“Hey, Uncle Scott,” she greets him with a smile. “Finished for the night?”
He shakes his head and chuffs, “Not even close. I just came to see if there was food for us or if I should go to the town hall for a meal again.”
“No, no!” she interjects. “Sue made sure to pack a ton. There’s plenty for you.”
“And Melora? She’s staying the night over there with me, too.”
“Oh, really?” she asks with a sly grin and a lot of implication.
He chuckles this time. “Samantha, I am working. She’s a good assistant when you aren’t with me. But neither of us can work with no gas in the tank.”
She smiles and says, “Uh-huh, whatever you say. Here, let me get you a bag to carry stuff back to the house to share.”
Sam leaves him in the waiting room and rushes to find a bag. She doesn’t come up with one but does find a basket in the storage room. Then she packs him sandwiches, two thermoses of vegetable soup for later if they get hungry on the midnight shift, apples, and cheese slices. She also places inside the basket two small containers of Sue’s homemade trail mix that contains walnuts, dried berries, and salted sunflower seeds.
“This is great, honey. Thanks,” he says and kisses her forehead.
“So you aren’t coming back to the house tonight to sleep?”
He shakes his head, sending a strand of dark hair over his forehead. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Some of the children need constant care. I’d hate to leave them in someone else’s care in case they get even worse. Two of them are spiking fevers. Oh, hey, by the way, thanks for getting them all fed. That was helpful. We need to keep the food and liquid to them.”
“No problem,” she says.
He grins, touches the side of her cheek gently, and says, “I’m so proud of you, Samantha.”
Sam’s eyes well with tears. “I love you, Uncle Scott.”
“Ditto, honey.”
He hugs her close, balancing the basket in his other arm. Then he pulls back and kisses her forehead.
“Are you going back to the house now? I’d like to know that you are so that I don’t have to worry about you while I’m at work.”
She nods. “Yes, I’m tired tonight. I think I’m going to turn in soon.”
&n
bsp; “Shower first. Too many pathogens that we’re dealing with lately.”
“Right,” she agrees.
“And go straight there now, so I know where you are,” he orders more firmly.
Sam rolls her eyes and chuckles, “Uncle Scott, I’ve been living without you for four years. I think I got this.”
He narrows his eyes and says, “That may well be, young lady, but I’m in charge of your care now.”
“All right. I’ll go home now. Like I said, I’m tired. Plus, I don’t want to crash your date with Melora.”
He gives a slightly less patient look but eventually grins. Sam laughs, though.
“Not a date. Just taking care of patients,” he corrects.
“Too bad you don’t have a nice bottle of wine and some candles.”
“Ha, well, we better hope the solar panels hold up better tonight. We were working by candlelight last night.”
“Ooh, romantic!”
He shakes his head and smiles, “I’m leaving on that note.”
Sam laughs again and watches him go. She’s so lucky to have him back in her life. She wishes that every person who has lost everything and everyone they love could reunite with even just one family member again. Having him in her life again has been a blessing. Even if he is driving her nuts lately with his hovering. The only time that he doesn’t hover is when he knows she is on the McClane farm. Unfortunately, that doesn’t agree with her anymore.
Sam closes the clinic, locking the door behind her since there isn’t a single patient staying in it tonight for a change. Every patient is being kept across the street in the medical house and the one next to it. She walks down the street to their temporary house, wiping her brow twice from the humidity and heat. Once she arrives and lets herself in with the key Simon left her, Sam checks it just to be sure that nobody is already there or up to no good. Since the highwaymen, Simon’s been locking it. Then she heads upstairs to her bedroom and strips out of her clothing. Tomorrow, she’ll scald them in boiling water behind the clinic. But for tonight, Sam just wants her own shower, minus the high temps. When she’s finished, she dresses in a pale pink tank top and sweatpants that have seen better days. She goes back downstairs to the living room and works on a sketch she’s been doing of baby Charlotte. They have to preserve their memories without the aid of modern electronics like cameras for now, so this is the only way she knows how to do so. Last week, she drew one of her uncle, and the week before one of her friend Courtney and her new husband. They keep her busy over at Dave’s compound.
Without the aid of lighting in the house and just the use of a single oil lamp, Sam’s eyes grow weary, and the next thing she knows, Simon is kneeling beside her on the floor shaking her shoulder. It startles her awake.
“Simon?” she asks in a rush of disorientation.
“Yes, it’s me.”
“Is everything…is everyone…” she asks groggily.
He nods and says, “Everyone’s fine. We’re back.”
Sam clears her throat and sits upright, “What happened?”
“We saw the drone. Took us a while to track it down, but we found it,” he tells her. “We had to split up. Then it got even harder once the sun had set, but we managed to find it.”
“And?”
“It didn’t lead us back to their place, but it was heading toward the farm. John ordered it shot down. It’s a dead-end lead, but at least they won’t find the farm.”
“Do you think they know about the farm already and have been spying on it?”
Sam rubs her nose and stretches, which draws Simon’s attention to her chest. Her watch shows the time of two a.m.
“No, I doubt it,” Simon answers.
Sam shivers, so he pulls his black hoodie off in a flash and wraps it around her.
“Thanks,” she says, trying not to read anything into his kind gesture, which for Simon, that’s all it is and all it will ever be. “Is anyone going back out?”
“John has some men patrolling the area to make sure nothing happens, but as far as I know, we’re done for the night.”
“Good,” she admits. There is a long pause as they stare at one another, Sam trying to wake fully and Simon doing whatever it is he does when he looks at her like he is. “Did you eat? I brought food here for you.”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass,” he says. “I’m just heading up to…bed.” Simon’s voice cracks slightly, and his gaze falls to her mouth. “I’ll let you get back to sleep, too. Sorry to wake you.”
“No, I’m glad you did,” Sam tells him, swinging her legs over, causing him to stand and step back from her. “I’m going to bed, too.” She scoops up her art supplies and slides around Simon. “G’night.”
Sam glances over her shoulder to see him standing there looking down at his upturned hands, which seem to be shaking.
“Simon?”
His head jerks her way, “What? Oh, yeah. Good night. Sleep well.”
“I will now that you guys are all back safely.”
He chuffs, offers a lopsided grin, and a nod. “Get some rest.”
“You, too.”
She leaves him, going to her own room and tucking in for the rest of the night. In the room across the hall, Sam can hear him moving around. Then the house falls silent. Sam tosses and turns for a while. Sleep will not come to her again, so she rises and lights her lantern. Staring at her sketch pad doesn’t help, either. Sam can’t take this anymore. She goes downstairs and finds a notebook in the home office, left there by whatever family used to own this house. She takes it back to her room and flips it open to the first page.
The blue notebook with the white flowers on the front must’ve belonged to the mother who used to live here. There is a grocery list with the usual items like milk, eggs, a loaf of bread and the like. The next page is a list of errands that includes picking up dry-cleaning, shopping for kneepads for her daughter who must’ve played volleyball, and buying sweatbands and tennis balls for “Nick,” a person that Sam believes must’ve been her son. The farther Sam goes into the notebook, the more ominous the lists become. The next page reveals a different kind of list that looks more along the lines of someone preparing for a camping trip. After that, it becomes increasingly portentous. Lists of bottled water, making sure their children’s vaccinations are up to date, medical supplies like antibiotic cream and bandaging. Then there is a page that bodes even worse. She has made a note of the family members they are going to try and pick up on their way out of town and who they will not be able to fit in their mini-van. She has crossed off some names. The final page that was written on is directions to a campground and the names of their friends who are going there. It is mostly thoughts of the person who wrote it, though, because there are doodles of flowers and squiggly lines on the sides and the space at the top. It makes Sam feel depressed peering into what was probably the last glimpse into a family’s life before they abandoned their home to go wherever they went. She wonders what happened to this family. Did they make it to the campground? Are they together now and surviving? Are they even still alive?
Sam quickly flips to a blank page and begins writing. She pours out her heart saying what she needs to express. When she is done, tears have fallen, but she feels slightly better.
Folding the paper in half, Sam sneaks to Simon’s bedroom and watches him sleep a moment. He is on his back dead to the world, one arm flung above his head in a carefree manner. She removes his hoodie, folds it and places it on the nightstand beside him. Then she lays the paper on top so that he is sure to see it.
Simon groans softly in his sleep and turns his head toward her, eyes still closed. Sam reaches for and pushes his hair back from his forehead. He stirs slightly and rolls to his side, exposing his back to her.
Sam creeps slowly out of his room and back to her own where she packs her belongings in her bag. Then she goes downstairs and out into the cool night air to find Henry.
Chapter Thirty-one
Cory
&nb
sp; “Thanks for breakfast,” he says and kisses the top of her head.
“You’re welcome, Cory,” Evie Johnson says with a gentle smile as she clears away the dishes from the small dining table in their kitchen.
“And thanks for being there when I needed someone to talk to,” Cory adds.
“That’s what friends are for,” she says and gives him a long hug. “Be safe.”
“I will. I’m going on a patrol ride from here back to the farm, and then I’m headed to town later to go on another run with John and Simon.”
“Want me to send some of the guys over to the farm?” she offers kindly.
“No, Derek and the others will hold down the farm. Luke’s there now, too. They’ll be fine.”
“Be careful later then,” she says, swiping a loose cluster of blonde hair from her sweaty forehead. She’d been in the middle of canning in the back yard when he’d rode up this morning on his horse hoping to catch her. Evie frowns up at him and says, “I don’t like these people, Cory. They remind me of the kind that killed our family up north. Same type.”
He nods with understanding and says, “We will. We’re taking extra precautions. Soon, we’ll figure out where their main division is coming from, and we’ll finish this.”
“I heard my brother saying that you all found clusters of people living in homes in the woods around the area. Do you think that was them?”
“Yeah, probably. Very likely actually,” Cory explains. “We think these places in the woods that we keep finding- like the other two that some of Robert’s men found again last week closer to Nashville- are like their outposts, their sentry posts or something. Then the person in charge can radio them to run routes and attack different places that their scouts find like the condo village and Dave’s compound.”
“Why’s that? How did you come to that conclusion?”
Cory says, “Because when we pinned the different locations on Doc’s map, they made a big circle, probably twenty miles in circumference. It encompasses a huge amount of space. They just missed Pleasant View, but it goes out as far as the outskirts of Nashville and Clarksville. Somewhere in that circle has to be the main headquarters. Once we find that, we coordinate with Robert McClane, he sends men, we take them out.”
