by Kyle Pratt
Zach walked up to the four soldiers on his side of the bridge. Three were new, and he didn’t know them well, but Sergeant Hill greeted him as a friend.
“Why are people camping over there?” Zach pointed across the river.
“Either they’re sick or someone in their family has been exposed.” Hill shook his head.
Zach stared across the river. “Then they should be in the hospital.”
“They will be as soon as there is a bed for them—if they’re still alive. I’ve heard talk of turning the high school gym into a makeshift ward.” Hill shrugged. “Nothing has happened yet.”
Zach leaned against a girder of the bridge as he considered the sergeants words. After a moment, he sighed and shook his head. “Have any of you seen a middle-aged woman with brown hair, about my height cross the bridge? She would have been headed out of town on foot.”
“A woman alone, and on foot, headed out of town?” The sergeant shook his head. “With the sickness killing so many, most people just stay inside.”
“Yeah.” A private nodded. “A few trucks have come into town and left, but no one has left on foot.”
“We came on duty about two hours ago,” another said. “When would she have been here?”
Zach looked at the camp on the far side of the bridge. “She might have reached the river before then.”
“Ask the deputy.” The sergeant pointed to the tent. “He’s been here all day.”
Just inside the shelter, the doctor and the deputy ate dinner from a Styrofoam cooler. Using a boxy clear plastic tent, most of the space had been turned into an isolation ward. On the other side of the plastic barrier, a nurse worked with about a dozen patients. Zach turned to the doctor and deputy and described the woman and his need to find her.
The doctor shook his head. “Unless she was trying to get into town I wouldn’t have seen her.”
“I don’t see many people out walking nowadays so, I remember those that do.” The deputy nodded. “No one has left in days—until today.”
“So, you saw her?”
“I saw a woman matching that description cross the bridge about three hours ago.” The deputy pointed north. “We have orders to do medical checks on everyone trying to get in, but anyone can leave.”
Zach sprinted to the bridge.
The sergeant shouted as Zach ran across. “Most of the people in the camp are sick. If she is with them ….”
Zach decided to worry about her health if and when he found her.
On the far side of the bridge a sign warned people to stop and receive medical clearance before crossing the bridge. Twenty feet ahead, trash had been piled and burned. It still smoldered and stank. Zach slowed to a walk as he came to the first vehicle. Breathing deeply he hiked through the middle of camp. Having nothing but the clothes on his back he feared no harm. From a nearby car someone eyed him suspiciously. A woman looked out the window of an RV. Several men seated around a camp fire glanced at him. Others looked away.
At the edge of camp, a tarp had blown off five bodies, laid out side-by-side, a woman, a man and three children. An entire family, or just random people joined together in death? Flies buzzed about. Zach gathered stones and replaced the tarp.
When they were again covered, he moved several yards upwind, sat and stared at the ground. How many more would perish before this deadly year ends? He lifted his head several minutes later, and there, at the edge of the trees, she sat.
Chapter Twenty Seven
Westmore Farm, Rural Lewis County, Sunday, October 4th
The two deputies turned in the direction of rapid gunfire mixed with shotgun blasts.
Caden jumped from the porch swing.
Maria clutched his hand and held tight.
Leaving his father’s guns behind, the deputies ran for their vehicle and jumped in. As the two sped away, the patrol car kicked up stones in the driveway.
Caden took a step.
Maria tightened her grip. “Let them do their job. You don’t have to save the world.”
Adam, still in his playpen, stopped tossing toys out and turned toward the speeding patrol car.
Caden stared into the darkness for nearly a minute and then sat. Perhaps he should be less involved until Hoover solved the Wilson murder.
Gunfire thundered again, followed by shouts.
Adam cried and Maria picked up the baby.
Gradually, the stillness of the night returned.
Caden remained seated, but his thoughts were over the nearby hill. He tried to remember the name of the family that owned the farm.
The door squeaked. His father stepped onto the porch, followed by his mother.
“Who owns the farm over there?” Caden pointed.
“Walt Harper.” His father looked concerned. “The deputies headed over there?”
Caden nodded.
Maria stood. “It’s getting cool out here. I’m taking the baby in.”
His dad and mom followed.
Caden secured the gate across the driveway and then brought the rifles in the house. With a final look over his shoulder, he stepped inside, and locked the door.
* * *
North of Hansen, Sunday, October 4th
Zach stood and inched forward. “Mrs. Hollister, we’ve been looking for you!”
She darted into the woods.
Zach shook his head. He would never understand DeLynn’s mother. Mustering all his energy he sprinted after her. For nearly an hour she hid and ran while Zach followed and searched. Catching her would normally have been easy but, after only two days recovery, he remained weak. He struggled to stay close to her.
Finally, he decided not to try and catch her, but anticipate her destination. Most people running away would go downhill and into deeper forest, but she wasn’t doing that. She headed generally uphill and stayed near the main road out of town. He had never heard of Mrs. Hollister going into the woods. As far as he knew, she only traveled in a car and, now on foot, still followed the road toward her old home. Zach smiled. He knew just where to cut her off.
Hiking deeper into the forest, Zach traveled in a roughly straight line over a hill that the road went around. Wiping sweat from his brow, for a moment he stopped, and leaned against a tree. On the far side, the road crossed a large stream. This time of year the water could be forded in several places, but she didn’t know that. He pushed on.
Zach hid in the bushes near the north side of the culvert. One car rumbled over by, and he heard another in the distance, but otherwise only the rustle of the breeze in the trees disturbed the quiet. The sun dropped behind the nearby hills, casting the valley into deep shadows. This would aid his ambush.
Out of the growing darkness came the sound of heavy breathing. Zach held his position, watching and waiting. As she stepped onto the bridge, Zach spotted her. She walked with a weary droop to her body. Afraid that it might be someone else, he waited until he could see her face. When she passed within arm’s reach he stood. “Mrs. Hollister—”
She screamed.
“—why did you leave?”
She turned to run.
Zach grabbed her wrist.
She slapped and kicked.
He fended off most of her blows, and held her tight.
Finally, she collapsed to the ground.
“Everyone is worried about you, DeLynn, your husband, Vicki and me.” Zach knelt beside her more confused by her actions than worried. “Why did you run off?”
She sat on the ground in silence.
Over the next few minutes, Zach gently tugged on her arm several times, and finally sat on the ground still holding onto her. He didn’t know how long he sat there with her when, after more gentle urging she stood. Holding her wrist, Zach led her back toward the bridge.
They walked several minutes in silence, but then, in a voice just above a whisper, Mrs. Hollister spoke. “My mother, brothers, and sister all lived in Los Angeles. I have more aunts, uncles, nephews, and cousins that lived in the city. I�
�ve tried to remember them all.
“For months after the attack, I held on to the hope that some of them would come and knock on our door. I know they’re probably dead, but in the house we owned, I clung to hope. Living where we do now, they will never find us.”
She sighed deeply. “Now we’re broke and live in a ramshackle building. We’ve often been hungry and I’m always afraid.” Tears streamed down her face. She looked into the sky and shouted. “God, why did you do this to me and my family?”
Something stirred Zach to answer. “An evil man killed my father, but good people like your husband and others helped me. We all make choices. Evil people choose to screw up this world. Good people make it a better place.”
“No!” she cried. “God should just make us do the right thing.”
“It would be a sad world if God didn’t give us a choice. Could there even be good, if no one had a choice? I don’t know, I’m not very smart about such things.”
She cast a serious gaze his way. For a while they walked in silence. “You’re smarter than you think. You’ve reminded me of things I’d forgotten.”
Zach looked up at the canopy of stars. “I’d like to believe that there is a God who gathers the souls of the good people who follow him. Then someday I’ll see my father and mother again, and you’ll see your family.”
“Out of the mouths of babes,” she whispered.
“Huh?”
She smiled. “Just one more thing you’ve reminded me of tonight. You don’t have to hold me. I’ll follow you back.”
A rising moon cast pale light as they arrived at the bridge. A Humvee blocked any vehicle from crossing.
As they walked onto the bridge, a voice came out of the darkness. “Halt. Zach is that you?”
He did as commanded. “Yeah, I found Mrs. Hollister. We’re heading home now. I guess we need to see the doctor. Right?”
“Yeah, but the doctor left for the night. There won’t be one here until 0700 tomorrow.”
“What about a nurse?” Zach gestured toward the tent. “I saw one in there earlier.”
“She stays in the isolation ward.” Sergeant Hill said as he came onto the bridge. “Only the doctor can let someone into town.” Hill rubbed his chin. “Even though it’s against the rules, I’d let you in Zach. I know you had the Kern flu and recovered. You won’t infect anyone, but the woman….” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
He thought about phoning First Sergeant Fletcher and asking him to send a medic, but decided against it. Ten hours under the night sky wouldn’t hurt either of them. Perhaps it would help Mrs. Hollister to appreciate the hotel. However, he did need to make one call. Zach borrowed the sergeant’s phone. “Hello, DeLynn?”
“Zach! Where are you?”
“Beyond the North Bridge. I found your mother ….”
“I’ll get Dad. We’ll be right there.”
“No don’t. She’s fine, but the checkpoint is closed for the night. They won’t let us cross. I’ll have her there at 0700.”
“When?”
“Seven in the morning.” After a bit more persuading he said goodbye and turned to the sergeant. “Can we borrow a couple of blankets and a tarp?” Zach planned to use the tarp to keep them off the damp ground. He turned to Mrs. Hollister. “Let’s hope it doesn’t rain.”
Chapter Twenty Eight
Hansen Armory, Monday, October 5th
Tired and rubbing his neck, Caden walked into the office. Hearing a perking sound he looked to his left. Someone had plugged in the long unused coffeemaker and water stood in the pot. “Do we have coffee?”
A corporal stepped hesitantly into the room. “Ah, no sir. I was about to prepare some … well, it’s sort of tea.”
“Sort of tea?”
“Yes sir. It’s a herbal recipe that my wife’s family has been making for years. They sold it at the Library Park market until the flu shut it down. It’s hot and tastes … well, better than plain water.”
“You had me at hot. When it’s made, pour me a cup.” He continued on to his office.
Moments later Brooks stepped into the doorway. “Here’s the latest roster.”
Caden motioned for Brooks to enter, took the paperwork and read the report. Half of his men were sick or recovering. Ten had died since the outbreak and he knew more would follow.
A knock snapped him away from the melancholy report. The corporal delivered a cup of pale tea. He took a sip and the warm mint eased the discomfort in his throat.
Taking another sip, Caden turned to the routine minutia of the day. Several minutes later another knock diverted his attention. Hoover stood in the doorway. “Well, are you here to arrest me?”
“No, and you’re not funny either.”
“Okay.” Caden shrugged. “What do you need?”
“The funeral homes are no longer taking bodies.” Hoover stepped in and sat. “They say the danger of infection is too great. The morgue is full. We need to start mass burials.”
Caden sipped the tea as he wondered how dangerous the dead bodies were. He decided to call Dr. Scott and ask, then recalled she had Kern flu. He needed to call about her prognosis.
“We could dig trenches in unused parts of the pioneer cemetery,” Hoover suggested. “We’ll need a chlorine solution, or at least lime, heavy equipment for digging, and personnel to wrap and handle the bodies.”
They discussed the planning and logistics of the operation for several minutes and then Hoover nodded. “I think we have a plan. On a better note, we recovered several .270 bullets from an attempted robbery near your home last night.”
Caden smiled. “What do you want to bet at least one will be a match with the Wilson murder?”
“The state crime lab is barely running, but when we get the ballistics check I’m sure it will match. That’s what I came here to tell you. I would have phoned about the burial situation.”
“So, you believe me now?”
“I always believed you and when this case is closed, no one will be able to say you received favorable treatment. I have gone by the book and hopefully we’ll soon have the real culprits in custody. I’ve done you a favor. I hope someday you see that.” The sheriff stood and left.
Caden sighed. He knew the importance of doing things the right way, following procedure and not showing favoritism. So why did this investigation anger him? He took a long drink of tea. Perhaps part of the anger rose from his father being part of the inquiry. Also, he trusted Hoover, and thought that the sheriff had come to trust him, but the investigation made him feel like a suspect.
Like most men, Caden didn’t often examine his feelings, but this time it had revealed the source. It hurt him that, after so many months of working together, the sheriff treated him as a suspect—even if Hoover had to do it.
Caden sighed, felt embarrassed and small. The cause for those last feelings would not require examination. He leaned back in his seat, took another drink, and reached for his phone. Hoover deserved an apology. He set the phone on his desk and tapped the screen with one hand, while rubbing his sore throat with the other.
Brooks burst into the office. “On the radio….” He waved for Caden to come. “You’ve got to hear this.”
* * *
North of Hansen, Monday, October 5th
Zach pulled the blanket tight around him. The first glow of morning illuminated the rough campsite near the riverbank. He didn’t have a watch, but knew it was too early to expect the doctor. He sat up and yawned.
The top of Mrs. Hollister’s head protruded from the other end of the cover, revealing a wild mop of brunette hair. She fidgeted and softly moaned, but otherwise remained covered. She probably hadn’t slept well.
Zach stood, stretched and yawned again, before going to the edge of the forest to take care of morning matters. When he returned he sat with crossed legs and pulled the blanket around him. He imagined he looked like a Tibetan monk waiting for the sun to rise for morning prayers. Actually, he waited for the sun to warm hi
s chilled body.
As the morning glow grew, birds chirped in the trees and flew overhead. Eventually the path of the sun crossed the small river valley and the first direct rays of warmth bathed him. Unlike the hustle and bustle of the world he usually lived in, this one remained peaceful.
A grocery truck rumbled down the road and stopped at the edge of the bridge.
Zach stood and wondered when he might eat breakfast.
Mrs. Hollister pulled the blanket down. Beads of sweat dotted her face.
Zach ran to her. “Are you sick?”
She nodded and tried to stand.
He reached out to help. Her arm felt clammy.
She crumpled to her hands and knees and seemed content to stay there. A moment later she crawled to the edge of the tarp and vomited. Then she rolled on her back.
“I’ll go get help.” Zach ran toward the soldiers on the bridge.
As he crossed a private yelled, “Halt.”
“It’s me, Zach … ah.” He stopped about twenty feet from the private and pointed to the campsite. “I need to get Mrs. Hollister to the doctor. She’s sick.”
“You both need medical clearance. The doc will be here in about an hour.”
“But she’s sick. I need to get her to a doctor.”
The soldier made a sweeping gesture toward the camp. “Everyone on your side of the bridge has Kern flu or, like you, knows someone who has it, but none of them gets in without medical clearance.”
Sergeant Roy trotted on to the bridge and Zach explained his situation.
“When we came on duty, Sergeant Hill told me you had crossed to the other side looking for a woman.” Roy sighed. “Sorry, but I agree with Hill’s decision. If you want to enter, fine, but the woman will need to be cleared.”
“But she won’t be cleared,” Zach protested. “She’s sick and needs treatment.”
“Yeah, her and thousands of others. The hospital’s overwhelmed. Most sick people need to have family or a friend bring them in for treatment. Ambulances and EMTs don’t respond for Kern flu.”
