Braving The Storms (Strengthen What Remains Book 3)

by Kyle Pratt

  His father glanced at him. “Why are you staring at me?”

  “Oh, sorry. I’m just thinking about Bob Wilson’s situation. Does he have any children?”

  “One son. He lived in L.A.”

  “Oh.” The terrorists destroyed Los Angeles on the second day of attacks. By dawn of that day few residents had left the city, but just hours later the survivors poured out. Since their son never came home to Washington, Caden assumed he died that day.

  The truck bounced up the driveway to a white two-story farmhouse with a covered porch. Caden remembered that it extended to all sides of the house. As they stopped, he noticed the front door was open and the screen slightly ajar. He moved his hand to where his pistol should have been, but wasn’t. He hadn’t planned to leave the farm, so he never put it on. Cautiously, he followed his father up the steps.

  His dad knocked on the doorframe. “Bob, this is Trevor. Are you home?”

  “Listen.” Caden turned an ear to the screen. “I hear someone humming.”

  Caden followed his father into the house.

  “Liz is that you?” His father paused in the middle of the living room.

  An old woman appeared in a doorway wearing an apron and holding a knife.

  “Hello Liz. Remember me?”

  She stared at him blankly.

  “I’m Trevor. I’d like to talk to Bob. Could you tell me where he is?”

  At the mention of her husband, she smiled. “Oh, I was just slicing an apple pie for him. Would you like some?”

  “Maybe later, right now I need to talk to Bob. Where is he?”

  “He’s eating lunch on the veranda.” She pointed to the south side of the house.

  Caden led his father out the door and breathed easier as he hurried along the creaking porch. Turning the corner he spotted Bob. The man sat about halfway along the side of the house on a wooden bench with a food tray in front of him. His chin rested on his chest as if asleep. Flies buzzed about.

  “Bob are you okay?” Fearing the worst, Caden took a deep breath, stepped close, and knelt to check his pulse. As he did the old man crumpled forward into Caden’s arms.

  “What did you do to my husband?” Knife still in her hand Liz lunged.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Hollister Hotel, Saturday, October 3rd

  Zach leaned against the glass near the corner of his bedroom. From his perch atop the hotel he viewed city hall from one window and Library Park from the other. The park had been the center of the community economy for nearly a year. Now it stood empty as the Kern flu burned through the town.

  Still weak, he pulled a chair over and sat, staring at the deathly quiet city below.

  A knock came at the door.

  “Come in.” Zach looked over his shoulder.

  Sergeant Hall stepped into the room with his medic bag. “Vicki told me you were awake.” He smiled.

  “Awake, but weak.” Zach started to stand.

  “No. No, sit.” Hall pulled a chair beside him. He checked Zach’s temperature, blood pressure, pulse, and throat. “I think we can safely say you’re on the mend. I won’t be coming to see you again unless you need me. About half the armory has the flu. We’ve even set up our own isolation ward.”

  Zach’s mouth gaped. “Have guys died?”

  “Eleven, and there will be more. Hundreds have died in town.” Hall shook his head. “This whole year has been like the pale horse of tribulation.”

  He didn’t understand the reference to a horse, but decided not to ask. Zach stared out the window after the sergeant departed, feeling a strange mixture of thankfulness at being alive and sadness for his friends and neighbors that perished. Only when the sun shone in his eyes did he turn back to the room.

  Again there came a knock at the door. Mr. Hollister entered the room holding a tray. “I come with bread and fish. Biblically inspired foods for a time of tribulation and pestilence.”

  Zach didn’t understand the Bible allusion, but he knew about tribulation and guessed at pestilence, and nodded. Hungry, he ate the warm bread. “How are the building renovations going?”

  “Good. The bakery will be done soon. That’s where the bread came from.”

  “Really? This is good, but Library Park is vacant. I don’t think we’ll get any customers walking over from there.”

  “I still have some money-making plans for this building, but with the sickness ravaging the town, and the world, I want to turn this place into our own personal life preserver.”

  * * *

  Rural Lewis County, Saturday, October 3rd

  His father hurled himself between Liz and Caden, then shrieked in pain. Caden struggled to stand under the dead weight of Bob Wilson. His father pushed Liz away with his left arm, then stumbled backwards and fell to his knees.

  “Did I do that?” Liz, her eyes wide, backed away. “Why are you here?” She dropped the bloody knife, turned and ran.

  Caden pushed Bob’s body to the side. “Dad, are you okay?”

  His father leaned against the rail and looked at him with wide eyes. Blood stained the right side of his shirt.

  Leaving Bob face down on the porch, Caden hurried over. “We need to get you to the hospital.”

  His dad nodded and then tried to stand, but toppled forward.

  Caden helped him up. With his father’s left arm over his shoulders they hurried toward the pickup. “Come on, I want to be gone before Liz shows up with another knife.”

  After opening the passenger door, Caden helped his father into the truck. Then he took a dirty towel from the back of the cab, ripped open his father’s shirt, and pressed it against a four-inch slash wound. “Hold this against the cut. Keep pressure on it.” Caden darted to the driver’s side and sped away.

  “We should tell your mother,” his father muttered as they passed the family farm.

  “I’ll phone from the ….” He had headed toward the hospital out of habit, but now wondered if he should go to the armory. The hospital had actual doctors, but also hundreds of Kern flu patients. The armory had only a few patients waiting for a bed at the hospital. The medics weren’t doctors, but had specific training on knife wounds. Ahead, the turn toward one or the other loomed larger. “Ahhh.”

  “Hospital. It’s closer and Dr. Scott will treat me.” With a moan his father slid down in the seat.

  Caden pressed the gas. “Stay with me Dad. It’s not that bad of a cut.”

  “Rag’s soaked. Shirt’s ruined and my side hurts.”

  Caden pulled into the emergency room entrance and ran to find help. Patients filled every seat inside. They sat on the floor, or seemed to wander aimlessly. He looked for a doctor or nurse. A large sign with a bright red arrow directed those with Kern flu symptoms to another room, but there were no directions for other patients. Several nurses in biohazard suits hurried through the lobby, one pushed a patient on a gurney. None slowed enough to speak. He regretted not taking his father to the armory.

  “Sure is busy.”

  He turned at the sound of his father’s voice. “Dad!”

  A few yards away his father wobbled toward him.

  “How did you get here?” Caden shoved past two people to get to him.

  “It’s easier to get down out of the truck, than it is to get up and in.” His father stumbled. “Walking hurts a bit though. I need to sit down.”

  But there were no seats so, with his father leaning on him, Caden continued on toward the examination rooms. As they turned a corner, a nurse blocked their path.

  “Why are you back here?”

  “Looking for help,” Caden replied. “My father was stabbed.”

  The nurse looked at the torn and bloody shirt. She pointed to a wheelchair. “Use that and take him to room six.” She turned. “I’ll inform the doctor and be there shortly.”

  As he helped his father onto the table, the older man let out a moan. “Come on Dad, lean toward the bed. You’ll be fine. That cut isn’t the worst I’ve seen.”

&
nbsp; An old, pale man looked at him with a weak smile. “No, but it’s the worst I’ve seen.”

  Caden forced a smile in return. He took a deep breath and tried to relax, but as the seconds ticked by and the blood-soaked cloth dripped onto the examination table, his worry grew.

  The nurse returned two minutes later. She removed the rag and tossed it in the trash. Then performed a quick exam and placed a large bandage over the wound. She turned for the door. “The doctor will be here soon.”

  “Wait!” Caden jumped to his feet. He hadn’t used his position as military commander to secure favorable treatment for himself or his family in the past, but now he would. “Inform Dr. Scott I’m here with my wounded father. I’d like her to treat him.”

  “She’s in the isolation ward.”

  “Well, get her.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  Caden stepped closer to the nurse, anger ready to erupt.

  “Look, I know you’re concerned about your father, but you don’t understand.”

  “Don’t understand what?”

  “Dr. Scott is a patient. She has Kern flu.”

  * * *

  Hollister Hotel, Saturday, October 3rd

  “Use the building to preserve our lives?” Zach rubbed his chin. “How do you plan to do that?”

  “First we keep unwanted people out. The exit doors are old, but they’re solid wood. I’m going to install new door frames, strike plates and deadbolts.”

  “Strike plates?”

  Hollister laughed. “I sometimes think I should have stayed a carpenter. It certainly has been more useful than my law degree this year.”

  Zach smiled, still confused.

  Mr. Hollister placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll get started, you just get well, so you can help me.”

  The next morning, after a breakfast of fish, bread, and an apple slice, Zach made his way to the first floor. The smell of fresh bread enticed him to the bakery where he found DeLynn, kneading bread with a flour smudged face.

  “Hello beautiful.”

  She cast him a doubtful glance and continued her work. “I’m glad to see you up and about.”

  Zach sat in a chair. “Thanks to everyone, I’m getting better.” He inhaled the smell of bread. “Have you seen Vicki?”

  “She set the fish traps this morning so I could bake.”

  “I can see Library Park from my bedroom. It’s empty. No one is going to be coming here for food.”

  “Of course not.” She shook her head. “We go to them. People pay us in cash or trade for home delivery.”

  Zach thought of DeLynn handing a bag of food to someone at their front door. Then he imagined that person with Kern flu. “Isn’t that dangerous? I mean with the flu and all?”

  “Maybe.” She shrugged. “Dad does the actual delivery and he wears a mask. The person leaves money, or trade, on the porch and we drop off a box of food. We never actually see the people.”

  “You started this while I was sick?”

  “Dad thought of the idea. There are a lot of hungry, desperate people out there. More than we can supply.”

  * * *

  Hansen General Hospital, Saturday, October 3rd

  “Oh.” Caden sat, stunned by the news of Dr. Scott’s illness.

  He had no idea how long he sat there, worrying about his father and Dr. Scott, before the nurse returned. A young man with dark hair followed. Caden would have thought he was fresh out of high school, or perhaps a college undergrad, but he wore the white coat of a doctor.

  The nurse briefed him as they entered. “This is the knife wound I mentioned. It’s about four inches in length along the upper abdominal quadrant and reaching into muscle tissue.”

  The doctor walked directly to Caden’s father. “How long ago did you get cut?”

  “About 90 minutes ago.” His father turned to Caden. “Call your mother.”

  Caden wanted to listen to what the doctor said, but stepped out. As he walked along the hall he pulled out his phone, thinking of what to say. He reached the lobby and looked around. Several people were perspiring. The room smelled of body order and vomit. A few lay on the floor asleep or unconscious. Death inhabited the room.

  Caden felt sure several had Kern flu. Couldn’t they read the sign directing them to another room? Were they in denial? He held his breath and hurried through the room.

  Outside, he inhaled deep drafts to cleanse his lungs of whatever might have infiltrated them, but smoke and the scent of trash came with the air. Looking about he observed more families camped along the lot than before. Families cooked with camp stoves or over open flames. A mountain of trash bags stood in the far corner of the lot.

  He had been in such a rush going in that he hadn’t noticed. Still he knew his mother, and the rest of the family, needed to be told of his dad’s condition, but he didn’t want any of them to come to this place.

  Reaching the truck, he opened the driver’s side door. The smell of blood greeted him. He rolled down the window. Caden ran his hand along the still moist seat and shuddered at the thought of his mother riding to the hospital while sitting on the blood of her husband.

  After several minutes he pulled out his phone and called his sister. “Lisa, where are you right now?”

  “In my room at the house, why?”

  “Are you alone?”

  “Yes. What’s going on weird brother?”

  “First, Dad is okay.”

  “What!”

  “Stay where you are, and hear me out.” He told her what happened earlier in the morning and about taking his father to the hospital.

  “We need to tell Mom,” Lisa cried, tears in her voice “We should be there.”

  “No. I’m sure Dad will be fine. I don’t want Mom to rush over here. There are a lot of sick and dying people and he isn’t one of them.”

  “You won’t be able to keep Mom away.”

  “I can’t imagine they’ll keep Dad long. They might release him tonight.” Caden sighed. “All I need is a little help from you.”

  “What do you want?”

  “You have the only vehicle at the house. Go visit Brooks at the armory. That way Mom won’t have a car when I tell her about Dad. I’ll say that I’m staying with him until they release him and that he’ll be home soon.”

  “Did you say Dad was attacked while you were at the Wilson farm?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “There’s a big cloud of black smoke coming from that direction.”

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Hansen General Hospital, Saturday, October 3rd

  Afraid the fire might spread through the dry grass and trees to their farm, Caden phoned 911 from the hospital parking lot.

  Instead of a human voice, he heard a recorded message. “Due to the high number of calls and a shortage of personnel, please use the following menu. If you, or someone you know, has Kern flu symptoms, press one. To report a death, or for the removal of a body, press two. To report a felony crime, press three. To report a fire, press four. For all other ….”

  Caden pressed four.

  “Please hold.” After that only silence.

  For once in his life Caden wanted to hear elevator music or something. After a while he hung up and phoned his sister back. “Where are you?”

  “On my way to the armory—like you said. Why?”

  “Can you stop by the fire station and report the fire?” He told her about his 911 experience.

  “Well, someone got through. Fire trucks are coming down the highway toward me.”

  He heard the wail of the sirens over the phone.

  When the trucks passed and they could talk again, Lisa sighed. “Are you sure we should be manipulating Mom like this?”

  “Like what?”

  “Me pretending to be on a date just so Mom won’t have a car to take her to the hospital.”

  “If it keeps her alive, we’ve done the right thing. They’re working on Dad right now and he’ll probably be home soon.
I really don’t want Mom here if it can be avoided.” Caden looked at the hospital entrance. “I should get back in there with Dad.”

  He knew it didn’t make much sense, but he held his breath as he passed through the lobby. As he entered the examining room he noted that his father had more color. Several intravenous bags hung above the table with tubes stretching down to his father’s arm. The doctor continued to work on the wound, but his dad smiled when Caden walked in.

  The doctor finished, and looked at both father and son. “The injury is deep enough that I’d like to keep you overnight to ensure there is no further bleeding.”

  Caden tensed as the doctor spoke. “Ahhh.” He glanced at his father who seemed resigned to the idea. “I’d want my father to have a private room.”

  “You’re kidding right?” The doctor laughed. “Everyone is doubled or tripled up.”

  “I could take him to the armory.” Caden stepped close to his father. “We have medics there.”

  “You’re worried about the flu aren’t you?” His father squeezed Caden’s hand. “You have flu at the armory. It’s sweeping through the town. If God has determined it’s my time….” He shrugged.

  The doctor wrote on a pad. “We have a wing of the hospital for non-flu patients.” The doctor wrote on a pad. “He’ll be there.”

  “I’ll be fine son. Come get me in the morning.”

  The doctor passed his notes to the nurse. “We work hard to isolate our regular patients from those with the flu.”

  Caden frowned. “We all breathe the same air.”

  The doctor shrugged, and left the room.

  Back in the parking lot, Caden pulled out his phone. He had planned on phoning his mother and then avoiding her so she wouldn’t have a car to take her to the hospital, but perhaps Lisa was right, such tactics were just manipulation. If a soldier were injured or killed, he would visit the family. His mother deserved the same respect. As he slid the phone back in his pocket, it rang.

  “Where are you two?”

  Caden sighed at the sound of his mother’s voice. “I’m on my way home now. I’ll explain everything when I get there.”