EMPulse

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EMPulse Page 12

by Deborah D. Moore


  They gingerly followed the ragged outer edge of the deep snow into the woods. Mike returned to the horses a few minutes before Claude did, and began turning them around.

  “You have a shovel or something I can dig with? There’s something odd about fifty yards from here,” Claude said.

  While Mike finished getting the team set in the downhill direction, Claude called out, “Mike! Give me a hand here. It looks like someone is trapped in the snow!” They dug rapidly for another ten minutes before the person was uncovered enough to drag free.

  Mike touched his fingers to the man’s cold throat. “There’s a pulse, Sheriff. Faint, but it’s there.” He carefully looked at the unconscious man. “I wonder what he was doing out here. Those boots wouldn’t keep anyone’s feet warm or dry.”

  “No gloves either, though they could have come off when he was swept away from wherever he was,” Claude surmised. “At least he had a reasonable hood on that parka, likely saved his life.”

  “Let’s get him into the wagon.” They covered the unmoving man with horse blankets and began the long journey back.

  “I don’t know what the doctors at the hospital are going to do with him without power, but we need to get this guy there as soon as we can,” Claude said, glancing back at the mound of blankets.

  Mike snapped the reins and sent the horses into a downhill trot.

  ***

  One week earlier, it would have been a strange sight to see a horse drawn wagon pull under the emergency room portico, and Sheriff Claude Burns would have been the first one to move them along. A lot could happen in a week.

  Claude jumped down from the rough seat that had brutalized his back and butt for the past half hour and dashed into the dark ER.

  “I need a gurney!” he shouted at the nurse behind the check in counter.

  “We aren’t taking in any patients, Sheriff,” she said.

  “You’re taking this one. Where is Dr. Sam?” He grabbed the icy cold rail of the nearest gurney and rushed back to the doors. Without thinking, he ran headlong into the glass doors, expecting them to open, and bloodied his nose when they didn’t. “Crap,” he said, pushing the panic-bar of the side door and pulled the stretcher behind him.

  Mike had already removed all the heavy horse blankets that covered the stranger and dragged him to the tailgate of the old wagon. Mike and Claude gently lifted the still-unconscious man and laid him on the gurney. They pushed the wheeled stretcher to the wide doors, where Nurse Ellen Tibbs had manually opened them.

  Dr. Sam Cory was waiting for them inside, having heard the commotion and yelling.

  “What happened to him, Claude?” Dr. Sam asked.

  “We found him buried in a small avalanche up Hog Back Road. By the look of the snow pack, he’s been buried for twenty-four hours, maybe longer.”

  “That might have saved him. Take him into the first exam room where I’ve got a lantern and let me have a look, though I don’t know how much I can do for him,” Dr. Sam said, shaking his head.

  “Thanks, Mike,” Claude said. “Can you hang around for a bit? I might need you and your wagon again.”

  “Yes, sir, Sheriff.”

  ***

  Between the doctor, nurse, and sheriff, they managed to strip the wet clothes off the stranger and wrap him in several blankets trying to warm his body up.

  Sheriff Burns removed the wallet from the back pocket of the man’s jeans and opened to the license. “His name is Kyle Polez, from Texas. Yet another stranger in town.” He dropped the wallet on the side table.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “What do you think, Sam? Is he going to make it?” Sheriff Burns asked the doctor hovering over the still unconscious Kyle Polez.

  “He’s young and healthy, and being buried in the snow helped to insulate him. So yes, I think he’s going to make it,” Dr. Sam said. “That’s the good news. The bad news is he’s suffering from dehydration and hypothermia and his hands are badly frostbitten. It will be touch and go for a few days, but there’s a chance one or both will have to be amputated. At the very least several fingers,” the doctor reported. “And how I’m going to do that is the next problem.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Dr. Sam leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb and sighed. “Claude, it’s been hell in here ever since the power went down. Fortunately, with it being a holiday weekend, there were no surgeries scheduled, and being a small facility the place was more than half empty. However, we were also running on a skeleton crew since it was Thanksgiving. Most of our staff lives someplace else and can’t get here now.” He took a deep breath and stared at the dark ceiling fixtures. “In the first twenty-four hours, I lost ten patients. Ten! All those were on some type of life support and died quietly, thank goodness. Old Mable needs oxygen for her asthma and is struggling for every breath now. She won’t last much longer. There are five more patients that I’m trying to send home, but three of them don’t have anyone to go home to. And it’s so cold in here, everyone is constantly complaining.”

  “What about this guy?” Claude asked, bringing the doctor back to the current problem.

  Sam straightened up and looked at his longtime friend. “How am I supposed to operate without adequate lighting? And I mean literally operate. That lantern over there is barely enough light for me to see by and not bash my shins on something.”

  “How long before you will know if you have to… amputate? Maybe we can come up with something,” Claude offered.

  “We’ve got a few days, but that’s all. As his body warms and his blood circulates, I’ll be able to tell where and how much tissue has frozen beyond repair.”

  ***

  Sheriff Burns and Mike Miller walked into the town offices to find Allison setting out sandwiches for lunch.

  “That sure looks good, Ms. McCarthy,” Mike said.

  “Help yourself, Mike. Claude, Henry is waiting for you in his office.”

  “I’m glad you hung around, Henry, saves me from tracking you down to tell you about our next problem,” Claude said, sitting in the blue leather chair. He told the mayor what they found near the resort.

  “A stranger from Texas?” Henry asked thoughtfully. “Dark brown hair in a buzz cut?”

  “Yeah. Do you know him?”

  “No, but he was in my store several days ago. Not a nice person, Claude. Best to keep an eye on him.”

  “He’s not going anywhere for a while,” Claude replied. “Let’s get back to business. Since we can’t get to Jeff to borrow his truck, I’ve asked Mike Miller to hang around. I suggest you and I get up to Walstroms and check things out before the town meeting in the morning. At least we’ll have an idea what we’re up against.”

  ***

  Using a crowbar, the sheriff and Mike pried the heavy glass doors apart at the Walstroms superstore. After propping the doors open, the three men stepped into the gloom and switched on their flashlights.

  “We have two objectives right now. The first will be to find the camping and hardware section and see if there are any lanterns or anything else that can be used for light. The next will be to check out the food section for the condition of the coolers and freezers,” Mayor Hawkins announced. “We should each take a basket in the event we find something useful.”

  They cautiously headed up the main aisle and veered off to the left midway. Mike stopped as they cut across the store and tossed a few things in his basket.

  Claude nodded in silence when he saw the dozen boxes of candles Mike had selected.

  “Uh oh,” Henry said coming to a stop beside a display. “Someone has already been here. Look.” Some shelves had been striped clean, while others had been pushed over, items thrown to the floor. “Let’s make this quick, guys.”

  Claude led the way further in, his service weapon drawn, and arrived at the ammo counter. “Shit.” Th
e locked glass cases had been smashed open and all the ammunition was gone. “Whoever it was knew what they were going for. Thankfully Walstroms carried only a few rifles and no handguns,” he said, staring at the broken gun case. “There are still shotgun shells left. We better take them before whoever it was comes back.” Mike added those to his grocery cart.

  “Next aisle over is the outdoor stuff. Let’s hope there’s something left.”

  The trio slowly edged around the end-cap, expecting the worst.

  “We’re in luck, if you want to call it that. Henry, I’ll hand you these stoves and lanterns. Mike, take all those bottles of lamp oil and those small bottles of propane, would you?” Claude was busy pulling items off the shelf and didn’t hear the footsteps approaching until too late.

  “Hold it right there,” a voice commanded. “Oh, it’s you, Sheriff. What are you doing?”

  “Geez, Alvin, you about scared me half to death! What are you doing in here?” Claude said, recognizing the middle aged man.

  “I’m the store manager, remember? Even though you’re the sheriff, you’re still stealing,” Alvin Alpo said, lowering his rifle. “I’m responsible for this stuff until the power comes back on or until the night manager shows up from Butte.”

  “Alvin, don’t you know what’s going on? The power isn’t coming back for a long time, if at all,” Henry said. “Also, we noticed the hunting section has been ransacked. When did that happen?”

  “Late last night a bunch of guys broke in through the back. They must have been after ammo only because they left after cleaning me out. I’m not stupid, Sheriff, I hid until they were gone.”

  “Well, we’ll help you board up where they broke in, and I’ll have a couple of deputies rotate guarding the place. The town needs what’s in here, Alvin, plain and simple, and if the entire state isn’t under martial law, we are as of right now.”

  “I’m okay with that, Sheriff, now that I know what’s going on. How can I help?”

  “Can we assume that the food department is still intact, Alvin?” Henry asked.

  “Yes, Mr. Mayor. As cold as it’s been, most things are still okay. In fact, the only things that are suffering right now are the freezers. If you’re looking to feed the town, sir, I’d suggest a pizza party. That stuff is starting to thaw.”

  “Is there anything in here that is or could be a manual heater?” Claude asked. “The hospital is getting desperate.”

  “There are three kerosene heaters in the aisle next to paint. I don’t have fuel though,” Alvin said.

  “Henry, you and Mike take those two full carts back to the front and get two more. We’ll meet you in the food department,” Claude said.

  ***

  “Where have you been staying, Alvin? Are you sleeping here?” Claude asked, pushing his cart as he followed the store manager through the various aisles.

  “I thought it a good idea, Sheriff. I’ve got an office overlooking the store above the Service Center.” He looked at Claude, then looked at his feet. “Truth be told, I’m glad you came along. This is too much of a responsibility and burden for one man. When the power went out I was glad I had given everyone the holiday off. Being here alone, though, is kind of spooky.” He handed Claude boxes holding the bulky heaters.

  “I’m glad we ran into you too, Alvin. Knowing your way around is going to make this a lot easier for us. Come on, let’s grab two more empty carts.”

  They met up with Henry and Mike in the produce section where Mike was loading a cart with lettuce.

  “Some of that is already going bad, Mike,” Alvin said.

  “I know, but my horses don’t care. I’ve been working them hard all day, they need to be fed and watered. Besides, you don’t want it rotting in here, do you?”

  Alvin grimaced. “Let me help you.”

  An hour later, they had twelve shopping carts lined up in the entrance filled with lamps, lanterns, candles, produce, and stacks of pizzas.

  “Now the question is, how are we going to get these carts into the wagon?” Claude thought out loud. Mike calmly dropped the back gate on the truck and slid a thick sheet of plywood out and down, creating a ramp.

  ***

  The first stop the wagon made was at the hospital where they dropped off two propane lanterns, a heater, one camp stove, and several pizzas, with the sheriff promising to bring some kerosene back as soon as they unloaded the rest.

  “Where are we going to take the food, Sheriff?”

  “For now, back to the town hall. We’ll pass out the pizzas at the meeting in the morning. After that, we need to find someplace that can cook mass amounts with what fuel we have available,” Claude answered. “Oh, and here’s a down payment for your help, Mike.” He handed the young man two cartons of cigarettes.

  “Thanks, Sheriff. I would help out just to help out, though,” Mike said.

  “I know you would, Mike. I also want you to know we appreciate what you’re doing for us.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “Quiet down, everyone!” Henry yelled to be heard above the din of voices. He pounded the gavel yet again from his position at the podium. Four other councilmen sat two on either side of him.

  Claude and Allison had come in early and set up chairs and the new kerosene space heater in the large and seldom-used meeting room. The chill was barely off when the first resident arrived and took a seat at the front. Before long, the room was filled to capacity, the extra bodies helping to raise the warmth. All the unwashed bodies also added a slightly unpleasant odor to the air. Allison remedied that by spritzing a room freshener above the space heater, hoping the rising heat would circulate the flowery scent.

  “Thank you. Now, we’ve got a lot to cover this morning, so please, let us speak and then I’ll open the floor to questions. Obviously we have a crisis on our hands of great magnitude. It would appear that the country, and that’s country, not county, has been hit with what is called an EMP, an electromagnetic pulse. With limited information before everything went down, we suspect it was likely caused by a high altitude nuclear missile.”

  The crowd burst into shouts and questions. Henry pounded his gavel again.

  “Please, everyone, quiet down! Thank you. Now, we don’t know who is responsible or even if for certain that was it, although it has the signs of it according to some of our more learned residents. That being said, the power isn’t coming back on anytime soon, if ever, so we will need to make some adjustments.

  “A number of you heat with wood; you’re the lucky ones. If you have friends or relatives that don’t, be kind and invite them in.

  “Some of you have a means to cook while others were dependent on their electric stoves. We’re open to suggestions on how to handle these situations. Yes, Father McMahon?” Henry said when the priest stood.

  “The church will open its doors to everyone in need. Our kitchen facilities might be limited, however we do have gas stoves and ovens. What we don’t have is food to cook.” The priest sat down.

  “Thank you, Father, and we can help with that,” Sheriff Burns said from his spot to the right of the council table. “Yesterday, I officially declared martial law in Avon.” The crowd murmured again. “A few of us were in Walstroms and it is now under the jurisdiction of… me. The day manager, Alvin Alpo, is giving us his full cooperation to take whatever is needed. Right now we have approximately two hundred pizzas waiting to be heated, which we will deliver to the church after this meeting or to those who want to take theirs home. I’m asking that everyone self-ration your food to make it last as long as possible.”

  “We will make more food available as we can get it out of there and into a location for distribution,” Henry said. “Now, do we have any questions?”

  “What about water? My tap isn’t working.”

  “Good question. We will distribute all the bottled water available. After that
we’ll figure out a means to haul water up from the Mountain Cap River. Plus we all need to collect snow to melt for flushing. By the way, your faucets don’t work because the city well needs power for the pumps, so no power means no water.”

  “Martial law, which I’ve no doubt is in force all around the country right now, generally means confiscation of all firearms,” Claude said. “That ain’t gonna happen in this town. Every one of you with a weapon may need it to protect yourself and your loved ones, just don’t get stupid.”

  “What about school?” Alex Peters called out from the crowd.

  “All schools are suspended until further notice,” Henry answered.

  “What if we want to leave?”

  “Then leave, Alex. Where are you going and how are you going to get there?” Claude said. Alex sat back down.

  “What about my medications?” someone else called out.

  “That’s something you need to take up with Dr. Cory. I will warn you, he’s got his hands full right now.”

  Mae Collins stood. “What do we do if someone… dies?”

  “Then you contact me and I or one of my deputies will deal with it, Mae,” Claude said softly. “Do you need to talk to me?”

  “Not yet. My dad was too weak to come to the meeting, and his heart meds are about to run out, so I’m concerned, is all,” she answered and sat down.

  “This also brings up the matter of the pharmacy at Walstroms. All of their stock will be moved to the hospital and will be under the supervision of the doctor,” Henry stated. “Moving the pharmaceuticals to the hospital is twofold. The first is, of course, the doctor that is still here will know best how to distribute what we have since the pharmacist lives in Butte and I doubt can get here. The second reason is there has already been a break-in at Walstroms. This also ties in with Sheriff Burns wanting all of you being able to defend yourselves. The break-in was for ammo. Everything that was there is now gone. The next break-in might be for drugs, and we want what is left under guard and safe for when Dr. Cory needs to use it.”

 

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