He rolled his eyes as if he was taken aback by her question, “You know I hunt all the time, right?” He tried to avoid the question, and gave out a faint laugh. “Learned everything from dad,” he added, “I’ve basically handled a gun my entire life.”
“I need to go now,” Benjamin said as he checked his watch. A slight pause followed. “Stay safe, will you? I’ll find my way to you and the kids - count on that.”
Benjamin kissed her cheek softly, and caressed her hair. Before Mary could say anything else, he was already out the door. She could hear him sobbing as he walked off.
…
The usual 25-minute drive to the hospital had already taken Benjamin about an hour. In fact, he had a good ten mile drive to cover. On his way, he passed by several street signs that had been taken down, national and state flags burned down, and a horde of protesters on the side streets.
His thoughts quickly turned to his family. “Was it smart to let them drive alone in the midst of this chaos?”, he thought to himself.
He kept driving on for the next 15 minutes or so. He split his focus between the traffic and his family.
On reaching the hospital, he met a staff member from Dr. Smith’s team.
“Dr. Perry, I got a call from Dr. Smith earlier today,” said the staff member.
“And?”, Benjamin asked.
“He called in sick. He suggested that it would be great if you could attend to his patients who are due for appointment today.”
Benjamin could only shrug. He rushed to Dr. Smith’s office where the patients waited on him.
Meanwhile, Mary and her kids were driving to the farm.
“Mom, I need to go to the bathroom,” Justin told his mother, who was driving along the Interstate on their way out of Southcrest. Mary pulled over to a nearby gas station.
“Please be quick. We need to get there before sun down.” Justin nodded and ran to the restroom inside the gas station.
Mary chose to go inside the mart. She wanted to check if there was something essential she could pick up for the journey. She picked up a couple of battery packs, a liter of bottled water, a lighter, and some canned goods. As she was heading to the cash register to pay for the items, she glanced over her shoulder and saw Justin exit the bathroom.
“That would be $11.25,” muttered the grumpy cashier.
Mary left $15 on the cashier desk. Before the cashier could hand her the change, she had already picked up her bag and was hastily heading for the door.
As she was loading the bag into the back of the car, a man suddenly pulled up from behind her. “Get in the car,” he commanded.
Mary was startled. She was struggling, twitching as the man was pressing something hard against her back. She couldn’t move at all. The man had clasped at both her wrists. The grip was so tight that she was grimacing in pain. The man, who was wearing a bonnet and had this long beard that nearly covered his lips and jaw line, pushed her towards the driver’s seat.
Still in shock, Mary froze in her seat. The man slowly walked over from the driver’s side door toward the passenger seat. While he did, he had a gun pointed at her. His hands were not moving, not an inch. She could hear muffling from the kids behind her. Mary studied them from the rear view mirror. They were huddled close together, one covering the other’s head.
They finally got moving and drove onto the Interstate. The bearded man still had not put his hand down. As Mary was driving, she kept watching the man from the corner of her eye. She saw his index finger on the trigger. All of a sudden her heart started beating rapidly. Beads of sweat had formed on her forehead and nape. She was now driving over 60 miles an hour.
“Slow down!” barked the bearded man.
“Sorry, sorry…” Mary frantically, but gradually released her foot off the gas pedal.
“Don’t try to do anything stupid,” warned the man.
Mary nodded as she tried hard to contain her tears. Then, she made a quick look at the rear view mirror. The boys were still huddled together as they were the last time she checked.
“Turn to the left here,” instructed the man with the gun. The route to the farm was supposed to be on the right, at the main intersection on the Interstate. Mary took deep breaths. The man had now put the gun off of her face.
The man looked outside the window, ahead. “Keep driving straight,” he scoffed.
“You’re doing great,” he said, then giggled to himself.
For the next 2 miles, Mary drove at a consistent 30-40 mph. Meanwhile, the man sat back comfortably in his seat.
“Boys, you alright over there?” he said, looking over to the boys at the back seat. No one responded. In fact, they hadn’t moved at all. Mary flinched a little bit.
“Relax,” he told Mary. “I was just trying to talk to them. They have been awfully quiet. No harm in getting to know them better.” He then laughed hysterically.
Awkward silence followed as they kept driving for another couple of miles on the road.
The silence was broken, however, when something popped on the road. This prompted the bearded man to take out his gun again. He checked the back of the vehicle through the side mirror.
“Damn!” he exclaimed.
“We got a flat tire,” he said, followed by sighing in between muffled profanities.
The tire flapped on the pavement as Mary pulled over to the side of the highway. The gunman opened his passenger seat door. Before closing it behind him, he said, “nobody move!”
With the gun still pointed at them inside the car, he added, “I won’t hesitate to fire if you try to do something crazy.”
The man walked over to the rear side of the vehicle. Mary kept watching him closely from the car’s rear view mirror. When he reached to the back of the car, Mary turned to his boys. Justin was trying hard to calm down his younger brother.
“Justin,” Mary said, “I have a plan.”
Justin listened attentively. His eyes fixed on his mother. “Remember what dad told you, okay?” she reassured her son.
Mary slowly moved over towards the passenger seat, and made sure there was absolutely no noise. On reaching the passenger seat, she looked at the bearded man through the side mirror. He was jacking and disassembling the flat tire. She could see the gun holstered by the side of his hip. She figured there were a few minutes before he could change the tire.
She opened the compartment in front of the passenger seat. Her hands trembled as she took out the .38 caliber handgun. She had never handled a gun before in her life. This was the first time she might even shoot someone. Several images flashed before her eyes as she tried to remember her husband’s demonstration. Her heart was beating fast, and her hands were sweaty. She still tried to tighten her grip on the gun.
You can do this, you can do this… she kept telling herself to stay focused.
She took one final glance at the side mirror. The man was now placing the spare tire on the hub. Mary knew she had to act soon. Every second mattered. If she wanted her boys safe, she had to do something without wasting anytime.
She heaved a deep breath before flinging the passenger seat door open. She stood there, pointing the .38 caliber gun towards the man.
“Hold still,” she commanded. The man looked stunned, but smirked cockily.
The man stepped one foot forward. “Don’t you dare come closer!” Mary yelled, while still pointing the gun at the man. “I‘ll shoot you if you move even an inch closer, don’t try me.”
The man let out an evil grin. “You think your empty threats can scare me?”
The man kept moving forward as Mary fell at a loss for words. “Do you?!” the man howled at her.
Mary could not keep a tight grip on the gun. Her fingers shook uncontrollably as the man kept approaching her. She tried to keep a distance by moving backward. However, he kept inching closer.
The man moved to pull out the gun from the holster. Mary was preparing to pull the trigger. Then, “bam!”
Mary froze. She though
t she was fired at.
Justin showed up from behind with a baseball bat. The man was grimacing in pain after a huge blow to his right arm. Justin swung the baseball bat once again – this time to his head. Then he swung some more – to his arm, to his chest, and to his head again. Justin screamed like a mad man.
The man was now lying in his own pool of blood. Justin crouched in front of the bloodied gunman, with both hands resting on his knees. Justin looked exhausted, and laid the baseball bat flat on the ground.
Mary rushed to her son. She hugged him tightly. Both were sobbing uncontrollably. His younger brother was crouched in the back seat, sobbing too.
Mary gathered herself together and wiped the tears off of her and Justin’s cheeks. She held Justin’s face, “Come on, let’s get going.”
“I’m sorry, mom,” Justin said.
“It’s alright. You did what you had to do,” she hugged him once more.
***
Chapter 3
Benjamin left the operating room and immediately took off his coat. His assistant came over, and took it from him. He just finished the second case for the day, and was due for a formal meeting with the Board officials. “Dr. Perry, the meeting is due to start in a few minutes,” said the assistant. Benjamin simply nodded.
Dr. Perry made a quick route toward the conference room. In the conference room, he grabbed a seat next to Dr. David Bosch. Besides Dr. Perry, Dr. Bosch was the only other present General surgeon at Southcrest Community Hospital. The third was Dr. Smith. But he had taken a sick leave. Dr. Smith had other plans in mind. He had already skipped town.
“How’s it going, Perry?” Dr. Bosch casually remarked.
“Got my hands full today,” Benjamin chimed in. “Dr. Smith called in sick.”
“You think so?” Dr. Bosch probed.
“Well, there are patients that need attending to…” Benjamin coyly responded. Dr. Bosch could only shrug and smirk.
Mr. Burchard walked into the conference room.
“Good noon, gentlemen,” he greeted them.
“Thanks for setting aside a few minutes of your time, I know how busy you all are,” he said, clearing his throat.
“As you might have noticed, we are short on staff today. A few of our medical personnel, including doctors, failed to report this morning.” There was a slight pause as Mr. Burchard examined some documents that were set on the table before him.
“We all know about the situation in our country,” Mr. Burchard continued. Everyone in the room nodded in agreement.
“And the threats have been getting closer and closer to home. Some of us might be tempted to think of our own good, our families. It’s basic human nature to think that way…for our own survival. But may I remind you all that we have duties to serve. We took an oath when we joined this profession. The government is doing its best to restore peace and order in the streets. We, too, have to contribute our part.”
Mr. Burchard’s statement was followed by another pause. However, it was longer this time. As Mr. Burchard examined everyone in the room for assurance, all the attendees looked at him.
“We will be keeping a close eye on the overall situation in the city and the state. Just focus on what you have to do and what we’re here for. We will keep you posted with updates. I’d call you in for a meeting if I have any major updates available. Again, thanks for your time!”
The meeting dispersed quickly. Everyone headed to their respective stations and clinics.
…
Dr. Anthony had completed his rounds and made his way back to the front desk. He wanted to finish his rounds before the afternoon clinic. He didn’t even mind skipping lunch to finish his rounds. The meeting with Mr. Burchard had already consumed his break time.
Mrs. Orman walked hastily toward him from the hallway.
“Mrs. Orman, what’s the hurry?” Anthony quipped.
“Have you heard the news?” she asked, looking up at him.
“No, I’ve been really busy this morning. Wish I could. Mind if you can catch me up on things?” Anthony said smiling.
“The riots are not getting any better,” she stopped as if waiting for him to respond. “We just heard it on the radio. I don’t know if the government is trying to conceal information or what, but it seems the riots are spreading faster than they appear.”
“What do you mean?” he said, looking dumbfounded.
“It seems that we’re not safe. If we don’t do something about it soon, these marauders could be walking down our streets in no time. ” She clasped her fingers together as if to stress her point.
Their conversation was interrupted by an emergency call on Anthony’s receiver. He listened to the page from the ER. Anthony paused.
“What’s wrong, Anthony?” she asked, curious about the look on his face.
“Will you excuse me, Mrs. Orman, a patient was just rushed in. It seems as though a young girl has been shot.”
“Shot? Oh no…” Mrs. Orman gasped.
Anthony paced back and forth. “I don’t think any of our doctors here specialize in this kind of trauma, much less pediatric trauma,” he said.
Finally realizing the urgency of the situation, Anthony got back to his senses. “I’ll just go there and check for myself… okay?”
“Sure, go ahead,” said Mrs. Orman.
…
When Anthony reached the ER, it was already a bloody mess. Two people, he figured were the child’s parents, were holding a bloodied sheet that they used to cover her up on the way to the hospital. He examined the little girl’s body. The girl was shot in the arm. She looked like she was asleep, so young and innocent.
He performed an initial check of her vital signs. Though she was still responding, her condition was critical.
“What do we do now?” asked his assistant. She was there to help him bring the child to the emergency room.
“We have to perform surgery,” he exclaimed.
“Are you kidding?”
“No.”
She paused, stunned.
“We have an anesthesiologist and a few other staff that can help us perform this surgery,” he insisted.
“It’s too risky!” she said, still shaking her head.
They were interrupted by the little girl’s labored breathing. “Ahhh… ahhhh…” she groaned.
“Check her blood pressure,” commanded Anthony.
She took the blood pressure kit and started taking readings of the patient’s vitals. “Not looking good. Her heart rate is pretty high,” she said in a despondent voice.
“She needs immediate help or else she could bleed to death,” Anthony affirmed.
“But…”
“We don’t have time for that! With the rate of her blood loss, she could go into a state of hypovolemia shock any minute now.” he said. Several spats of blood were easily visible on the floor.
“Come on, let’s get her to the OR,” he said as they pushed the gurney out of the ER.
The two adults who brought the child to the hospital followed them.
At the OR, they met another hospital staff nurse. “Hold on, what do you think you’re doing?” she stopped them.
“We need to perform a surgery on this little girl,” Anthony explained.
“I see that, but we aren’t licensed to perform surgery. We don’t have a doctor who can handle ballistic trauma,” she snipped at them.
“What do you want us to do – let her bleed to death?”
She looked smug. Then, took out a paper off of the medical folder she was carrying. “No procedure will be done on the patient until her parents sign a waiver, providing permission for it.” She then turned to the two adults who were huddled together, still carrying the bloodied blanket with them.
“But we’re not the girl’s parents,” the woman refused profusely. “They are dead. We just ran into them on the highway. In fact, we thought they were all dead. Then we noticed she was still alive and grimacing in pain. So we rushed her to the nearest hos
pital,” the woman explained.
“Looks like we got a situation here,” she told Anthony.
“What’s the trouble here?” the nurse supervisor walked in on the argument.
The staff nurse was first to respond detailing the conflict that had beset them.
“Come on!” yelled Anthony. “Her pulse is really low,” he interrupted.
The supervisor paused as the staff nurse and Anthony’s assistant looked on. “Okay, we’ll make an exception this time…”
The Second Amendment: A Novel On Surviving The Coming Collapse Page 2
