by Mel Odom
A few of the kids raised their hands. Most of the classes were a lot smaller these days. With none of the lower grades to teach, the teachers had divided up the rest of the students.
“If I haven’t heard from him before I leave, please let him know he’s supposed to call me. And make sure he does.”
They said they would.
This isn’t a problem, Megan told herself. God didn’t bring Joey back into your life just so you could worry about him all over again. God, please. My plate really isn’t big enough to handle this again.
But she kept thinking about the bruises on her son’s face and the fear in his eyes the night he’d returned to her.
8
United States of America
Fort Benning, Georgia
Local Time 0635 Hours
“Pull the bicycle over to the side and stand down,” one of the men in the jeep ordered.
Joey’s mouth went dry, and his first instinct was to flee. He just knew the soldiers were there because of what had happened at the mall. They were going to arrest him for murder. He didn’t know how his mom was going to deal with that.
Dawn was starting to light the eastern sky, but the soldiers still needed light to see well. The one in the passenger seat got out. He shined his flashlight in Joey’s eyes.
“You got ID, kid?” the soldier asked.
Joey calmed a little at that. If they didn’t know who he was, that was a good thing.
“Yeah,” he answered. He made sure to keep his hands where the soldiers could clearly see them. Goose had taught him that, saying that night patrols were often performed by young and inexperienced soldiers who could overreact. “My dog tags are under my shirt. I’ve got a driver’s license in my wallet.”
“Lemme see them.”
Joey caught the chain around his neck with a thumb and lifted the dog tags free. He remembered how cool he thought they were when he’d gotten them. Then they’d become something he had to have with him.
The guard checked the dog tags and the driver’s license.
“You know Sergeant Gander?” the guard asked.
“He’s my stepdad,” Joey said.
“He’s a good soldier.”
Joey didn’t know what to say to that, so he kept quiet.
“What are you doing out here, Joey?”
“Thought I’d clear my head.”
“We haven’t had any problems in the camp, but it might not be safe on the streets.”
“Don’t see why it wouldn’t be. You guys are out here.” Joey gave the guy a smile.
For a moment, the soldier held his expression; then he grinned too. “Yeah, we are. What do you have on your mind?” He handed Joey back his license.
“My mom is one of the camp counselors. She’s taken in a lot of kids.” Joey shrugged, borrowing one of the teen habits he knew adults attributed to kids. It was camouflage for the moment. “Kind of crowded at my house right now.”
“I bet. I heard your mom is doing really good things.”
Joey nodded, but he wanted to scream. “Just wanted to catch a breath of fresh air. Maybe ride down to the main gates and look out at the city.”
“There’s not much to see,” the soldier said. “Things there are still pretty confusing.”
“I know. I’ve seen it on television.”
“Just stay back from the gate. The guys there have jobs to do. The general has given orders that everyone’s to stay on post. If you leave, it’s going to be hard to get in again.”
“No plans on leaving,” Joey replied.
“Take care of yourself, Joey.” The soldier climbed into the jeep.
Joey waved, then got back on his bike.
Columbus, Georgia
St. Francis Hospital Chapel
Local Time 0641 Hours
“Miss McGrath?”
Jenny McGrath blinked her eyes awake. For just a second, panic filled her because she couldn’t remember where she was. Bright lights reflected off white walls. She felt stiff and uncomfortable, and she was aware that the back of her thighs had gone numb.
“Jenny?”
Someone shook Jenny’s shoulder. Instinctively, Jenny reached for the hand that held her, gripped two of the fingers, and prepared to pull the hand from her. She’d had to defend herself against unwanted attentions before. She was used to moving quickly.
She looked up into Ester Pryne’s face. A diminutive woman in her forties, Ester wasn’t at all a threatening figure. She was a nurse in the cardiac ward, where Jenny’s father was currently awaiting a miracle.
That’s what the doctor had finally come out and said a few days ago: that it would take a miracle for Jackson McGrath to recover from the car wreck he’d had a few weeks ago.
“Are you all right, child?” Ester wore granny glasses and kept her peroxide blonde hair short. Laugh lines-she refused to allow them to be called crow’s feet-surrounded her eyes and marked the corners of her mouth.
“My father,” Jenny said, because that was the first thought in her head every time someone woke her. Jackson McGrath hadn’t regained consciousness since the accident.
“Your father is still with us,” Ester said. “I’m worried about you, though.”
“I’m fine,” Jenny said. “Thank you.” Conscious of the slack way she was sitting in the church pew in the hospital’s chapel, she sat up straighter and felt for her backpack at her feet. Thankfully it was still there.
“I thought I might eat breakfast this morning after my shift. I’m off at seven. If you don’t mind, I could use the company.”
Ester’s ploy was so thinly disguised that Jenny thought she would have had to still be asleep to be taken in by it. Still, she felt grateful for the attention. “Don’t you think you’ve bought me enough breakfasts lately?” Jenny asked.
“No. I don’t think you’ve gained an ounce. In fact, I’m worried that you might have lost weight.”
Jenny knew that she had. Her jeans no longer fit her the way they had, and she’d needed to tighten her belt. Before the last few weeks, she’d always been in good shape. Working extra jobs to pick up the slack left by her father’s drinking had kept her fit.
“Let me buy breakfast today,” Jenny said. Three weeks ago, one of the hospital administrators had offered her a job in janitorial. With all the people who had gone missing, St. Francis was seriously understaffed. Jenny suspected the nurses had made the suggestion. Since then, she’d been working forty-hour weeks, and the hospital had turned a blind eye to the fact that she was sleeping in the waiting rooms and the chapel.
“Well, I appreciate the offer,” Ester said. “Do you want to come by the nurses’ station and get me?”
“Sure.” Jenny glanced at the clock on the wall. “Do I have time for a shower? And I want to go by and check on Dad.”
“You have plenty of time. I’ve got some paperwork I can noodle around with if you’re running late.” Ester held out a plastic bag. “I also brought you this.”
Jenny hesitated. Growing up as Jackson McGrath’s daughter had brought only two kinds of attention: scorn and pity. Over the years, she hadn’t cared for either of them.
“What is it?” Jenny asked.
“A gift. Something a few of us got together and wanted to give you.”
“Ester, I don’t want charity. I just-”
“This isn’t charity, child,” Ester interrupted. “It’s a gift. There’s not a nurse on this floor who hasn’t seen hard times. A lot of us learned not to believe in much outside our own skins, but we learned to accept small kindnesses that came our way. If we hadn’t gotten them, we might not have made it through those dark times. One thing we know: you don’t get through them alone.” She pushed the bag forward.
Reluctantly, Jenny took the bag and peered inside. A pair of jeans, khakis, and a handful of blouses were neatly folded inside.
“We know you’ve had to struggle to keep your clothes clean,” Ester said. “We’ve seen you washing your clothes in the bathroom
and drying them outside.”
Jenny’s face burned with embarrassment. She’d been doing all she could do to keep herself clean. She hadn’t wanted to get thrown out of the hospital, and being unclean would only have made her feel like everything she had to deal with was impossible.
“We had to guess at the sizes,” Ester said, “but most of us are pretty good at that. You’ll have to let us know how good we did.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Jenny whispered.
“You say, ‘Thank you.’ That’s all.”
“Thank you,” Jenny said. Surprising herself, she reached out and hugged the older woman.
“You’re welcome, child. You’re welcome.” Ester patted Jenny on the back and hugged her. “Now you get your shower. Both of us need to eat.”
Fort Benning, Georgia
Local Time 0649 Hours
Guards held the checkpoint with the barriers in place. There were more of them present than Joey had ever seen. On other occasions, before the disappearances, the guards had often laughed and joked, though they’d always been professional. There was no laughing and joking now. In fact, two jeeps filled with armed men sat farther back. Their presence was obvious and powerful.
Other guards, these with sentry dogs, walked the perimeter. The dogs moved effortlessly and remained ever watchful.
As he watched them, Joey felt more safe than he had in days. The nightmares about the mall shooting, about Zero and the others, had left him wrecked. He knew that. Seeing the guards at work helped him relax. As long as he didn’t leave the camp, he was safe.
Unless Zero or one of the others got picked up and busted for the murder of the old man. Then they could blame everything on Joey.
As soon as those thoughts crept into his mind, Joey felt sick with dread and fear all over again. His hands shook on the bike handles, and he thought he was going to be sick.
“Hey, kid.”
Joey looked over at the K-9 soldier and the German shepherd at his side. “Yeah?”
“Do you feel okay?” The soldier was older, probably Goose’s age, and he wore sergeant’s chevrons on his sleeves.
“Yeah.”
“You don’t look so good.”
“Just kind of creepy thinking about it, you know?”
The sergeant hesitated a minute, then nodded. “Yeah. Really creepy. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and find out this was all a bad dream.”
“But it’s not.”
“No, I guess not.” The sergeant looked at Joey again. “But don’t worry about it too much, kid. The brass will figure this out. They always do.”
“I hope so,” Joey said. “The sooner the better.”
“I’m keeping my fingers crossed. In the meantime, stay back from the fence, okay? It makes the snipers tense.”
Snipers? Joey looked around at the nearby buildings.
“They’re there, kid. Always on watch.”
“Okay.” That made Joey feel even more safe. The camp was like one of those old medieval castles. The armed guards were the moat that cut it off from the rest of the world.
“I gotta get back to it,” the sergeant said. “Got a lot of miles to cover before my shift’s over.”
“Have a good day,” Joey said. After the sergeant and the dog had moved on, Joey sat astride the ten-speed and stared out where Columbus sat touched by the early dawn. He thought about the madness that was in the city.
Many metropolitan areas had tried to return to a semblance of order. That was what people did, he supposed. Just picked up the pieces and moved on. Like his mom had when his dad left them. And like what she’d done in the camp when so many kids needed somebody.
But that was just the surface. Looting and violence had broken out all over. People were scared and mad, and they were going to be that way until they knew for sure what had happened.
And that it wasn’t going to happen again.
St. Francis Hospital
Local Time 0656 Hours
Jenny luxuriated in the hot shower. The nurses had allowed her into their locker room weeks ago, once they’d discovered she was living at the hospital. Megan Gander had tried to get her to return to Fort Benning, but Jenny didn’t want to leave her father. Her whole life, every time he’d gotten bad, wherever they’d been living, whether in jail or in a psych ward, she’d always managed to be there for him. She lived with the fear that if she wasn’t there, something would happen to him.
Dark hair washed and dried with a community hair dryer, she quickly dressed in a pair of khaki cargo pants, a white blouse with three-quarter sleeves, and her tennis shoes. She used a separate plastic bag to put her dirty clothes in. She planned to wash them later.
Jenny looked in the mirror and noticed how hollow-eyed she was becoming. Red rimmed her green eyes. No wonder the nurses are worried about you. They probably think you’re going to be their next patient. A little makeup would have helped, but she didn’t have any.
Satisfied she’d done all she could do, she turned from the mirror.
9
United States of America
Columbus, Georgia
St. Francis Hospital
Local Time 0703 Hours
Having possessions was turning out to be a problem. Over the last few weeks, Jenny had pared everything she owned down to one backpack. The new clothes didn’t fit inside. She got frustrated thinking she was going to have to carry her bags around like a homeless person.
“Problem?” a voice asked.
Jenny turned to see a nurse putting on makeup two sinks down. “No.”
“You look like you don’t have enough arms.” The nurse was in her early thirties. She wore a charm bracelet that had pictures of a small girl on it. The woman didn’t look familiar, so Jenny assumed she was on loan from one of the other floors.
“Things were easier,” Jenny admitted, “when everything fit into one bag.”
The woman laughed. “I know that’s true. But that’s not really life, is it?”
Jenny silently thought that all the good things that had happened in her life could have fit into one bag with plenty of room left over. It was trouble that seemed to come in bushel baskets.
“No,” Jenny said.
“Tell you what,” the nurse said, “I’ve got an extra lock here somewhere.” She rummaged through a big purse. “Bought one and never used it.” She produced a Master Lock with two keys taped on one side. “You’re welcome to use it.”
“I can pay you back,” Jenny said.
The nurse laughed. “Well, I appreciate that. Just promise me you’ll help somebody in the future. With everything that’s going on in the world, I’m starting to think that’s the only thing that matters. So me helping you today? I’m already one good deed down the road.”
The nurse’s good humor and smile were infectious. Jenny couldn’t help smiling back. She took the lock and the keys.
“Help yourself to a locker.” The nurse pointed at the wall. “There appear to be quite a few of them these days.”
Jenny stashed her stuff while the nurse dashed out.
Local Time 0710 Hours
Jackson McGrath looked small and sickly lying in the hospital bed in the intensive care unit. He was at least twenty pounds under his best weight. Several days’ growth of beard stubble, all black and gray, covered his face. His hair was too long and uneven from bad haircuts he’d given himself. Yellow tinged his skin.
Jenny knew her father was that color because his liver was trying to fail. Once it did, death was right around the corner.
The doctors had already examined Jackson McGrath’s liver and said it was a miracle he’d lived as long as he had. Both legs and one arm were in casts from the single-car collision that had landed him here. He’d been drunk when he drove off the street and hit a tree. Bruises still showed on his pallid, too-thin chest where the seat belt had cut into him.
Seated in the chair beside her father’s bed, Jenny stared at him, recalling numerous memories of him dru
nk and sober. None of it was pleasant. Jackson McGrath had never been a happy man. For a long time, he’d blamed his unhappiness on Jenny, telling her that raising a daughter by himself was too hard. At least, too hard to do sober.
Truthfully, though, Jenny had been forced to learn how to raise her father. And he’d fought her at every turn.
“How are you doing this morning, kiddo?” Katie Lang, one of the morning ICU nurses, filled out the chart at the foot of Jackson McGrath’s bed. She was in her late thirties, a heavyset woman with a quick smile and an even quicker comeback. Patients learned early not to give any guff to Nurse Lang.
“Doing okay,” Jenny said.
“You look pretty this morning.”
“Thanks. Ester said the nurses got me the new outfits.”
“You deserve them.”
“I appreciate them, that’s for sure.”
“We were happy to get them for you.”
“Has there been any change with my father?”
Katie took in a deep breath and let it out. Then she shook her head. “Not yet. I’m sorry.”
Despair swallowed some of Jenny’s good mood. “The longer he stays in a coma, the less chance there is of him recovering.”
“Don’t give up on him,” Katie advised. “I’ve been a nurse for a long time, and I can tell you right now, I’ve seen some of the most audacious things happen that you wouldn’t believe.”
Jenny nodded, not because she believed what the woman was saying but because she knew it was expected. Everyone talked about miracles in the hospital like it was a requirement or something. But she knew that not many people believed.
“If you give up on him,” Katie whispered, “he might give up on himself. Just because they don’t respond to you doesn’t mean they’re not listening.”
That was something else Jenny had heard a lot about. She made it a point to talk to her father every day. Sometimes she read stories she thought he might like from the newspaper. Other times she created a make-believe horse race and reimagined it for her father. She embellished the race and the names of the horses and jockeys. In addition to alcohol, gambling was also a problem for her father. She felt bad about feeding that addiction, but she didn’t know what else to talk to him about that he would have found interesting.
