“Sounds like an easy place to defend. It was for sale?” Jill asked.
“Yeah.”
Jill stood. “Then let’s go look at it. I’ll follow you.”
Nash, put off by her commanding manner motioned for her to sit back down and said, “Whoa, slow down.”
Jill sat. “What?”
“The house can wait, but my shopping can’t. Jill, you’ve sort of caught me by surprise.”
Jill reached for her cup of latte and drained the dregs before speaking. “Nash, I’m scared. You’ve always seemed to be level-headed, and on top of that you’re an all-around nice guy.”
Nash smiled, “Thanks for the compliment, but you do know the rest of them might be right, that I’m over reacting.”
Jill shook her head, “No, I don’t think you are. Besides, if it does turn out to be a non-event, so what? We’ll have a few days playing out an ‘End of the World” scenario and no harm done. We both work on-line; it’s not as if we won’t have our laptops with us.
“Just a reminder Nash, I can pull my own weight. I own a pistol and I’ve spent enough time at the range to know how to use it. I work out, and of course, in conjunction with my blog, I keep myself healthy.”
Nash could think of worse companions to ride out the end of the world. Reflecting on her previous comments, he could see the wisdom in having a second set of eyes. He made a decision and acted on it.
“Okay, but I still have shopping to do and so do you. Besides food and water you’ll want more ammo for your pistol, surgical masks, jeez, I don’t know … stuff that women need, think long term. What are you driving?”
Perceptive, knowing why Nash had asked, Jill answered, “A Bemmer without a trailer hitch. I’ll go to U-Haul and rent a van. The center near here has rental facilities for storing cars. I’ll leave mine there and hit Walmart for ammo and Sam’s Club for the rest.”
Nash nodded and said, “Good, but all that is going to take a while. Let’s meet at exit 20 on Interstate 85 at five-thirty. You can follow me to the estate.”
Again, Jill stood. “I’ll be there.”
Nash joined her standing. “Call me or text if you’re running late.”
*
Nash’s phone chimed while he was in the parking lot of Walmart stowing newly purchased ammunition for his pistol and rifle. He’d already hit a sporting goods store for a compound bow and a selection of arrows. A professional quality slingshot called for him. He purchased it and three-hundred clear glass marbles for shot. While there, he also cleared a few shelves of ready-to-eat meals along with a very large selection of camping gear.
Placing boxes onto the passenger’s seat, he felt his phone vibrate. Fishing it from his pocket, saw Jill’s number on the screen, and answered. In a panicked tone, she began speaking.
“Nash, okay… Listen up. The shit’s hit the fan. I just left Sam’s Club. I’m in the rental van on my way to purchase ammunition. Just before I left the store with my loaded carts, some fool store employee put a radio broadcast on their audio system; an emergency alert on the radio; breaking news. CNN scooped the government. The cat’s out of the bag. CNN reports there is an imminent threat of a Worldwide Ebola epidemic.
“Their anonymous source at the CDC gave them almost word-for-word the same information your sister gave you this morning. They reported that New York alone already has over thirty confirmed cases. Worse than that, the CDC has patients here in Atlanta inside their quarantine wards. It’s loose here! After the announcement, most of those in the checkout lanes went to do more shopping.”
Nash, absorbed her news and then said, “Don’t panic. Finish your shopping and try not to run late.”
“You don’t understand. There’s a chance anyone you come in contact with is already infected, but you’re right, I was on the verge of panic. Listen, CNN reported that the president scheduled an announcement at six this evening. Most people will wait around for that. After he speaks, forget about me panicking; the entire world will panic.”
Still on the phone with Jill, Nash climbed into the driver’s seat of his Jeep. “I’m on my way to Sam’s Club myself. Give me a quick run of what you’ve already purchased so I won’t do any redundant shopping.”
Along with a large amount of food, Jill had stocked up on toilet paper, paper towels, wet-wipes and baby-wipes. She told him he could take cleaning supplies off his list as well. He ended the call with another admonishment not to run late for their meet at the truck stop.
The Sam’s Club he normally shopped at was only a couple of miles from the Walmart. At a stoplight, he saw a sign on a building that lured him in. It was for a medical supply store.
He entered the store and saw that it wasn’t busy. There was a teenaged girl at the sales counter and he saw a white-haired elderly man behind the glass wall that separated the pharmacy from the store proper.
Nash went to the counter and asked the girl if he could speak to the pharmacist. She waved to get the elderly man’s attention and then pointed at Nash. The man nodded and came through a door to join them.
“What can I help you with today, Sir.”
“Have you heard the news about Ebola?” Nash asked.
The pharmacist shook his head. “No sir. What news are you talking about?”
“Ebola is spreading all over the world and it’s mutated so it can be spread with a cough or sneeze.”
Wearing a questioning expression, the man studied Nash’s face, “If Ebola is able to vector airborne that would be a serious problem. What news outlet reported this?”
“CNN, but it’s probably on all the outlets by now.”
The pharmacist pointed to the computer on the counter, “Janet, pull up CNN on your computer and let’s see if this young man is pulling our leg.”
Nash said, “While she does that, would you mind helping me select what I will need to protect myself from getting infected.”
“If it’s vectoring through airborne particulates, the only way to not get infected is to avoid people. Sir, I don’t have anything here that will provide more than superficial protection. Still, not wearing a mask around other people would be foolish. The best I stock is surgical masks. A building supply store will have a better selection of respirator style protection.
“I’m short on time. I’ll take the surgical masks. While we’re at it, put together the most comprehensive medical kit you can legally sale me. Keep in mind that if the infection is as contagious as reported, I won’t be going near a hospital. I’ll need sutures in case I cut myself. Antibiotics, pain killers, gauze, tape, you name it.”
The pharmacist shook his head. “I can’t dispense controlled medications without a prescription, but I can help you put together a…”
The girl at the counter lifted her eyes from the computer and interrupted him. “I’m connected to the Fox News website. Doctor Grasse, you may want to look at this. He’s right about the Ebola thing. The top headline is the “President to declare a state of emergency”.”
Doctor Grasse left Nash and hurried around the end of the counter. He spent a long moment looking at the screen. The shock of what he was reading registered on his face. Looking from the screen, he said, “The president will give a major speech at any moment. He’s expected to declare a state of martial law. According to the article there are already hundreds of infected in all the major cities. The emergency rooms in New York and L.A. are overwhelmed. Atlanta is on the list with a high level of exposure.”
The pharmacist came from behind the counter. The look of shock was gone from his face … replaced with horror. Dropping from his professional persona, his voice radiating fear … the same fear that was taking firm hold of Nash … he said, “Janet; you too young man; get shopping carts. Grab one for me while you’re at it. It won’t take long for full-blown panic to set in. People, especially those who need regular maintenance medications will freak out. They’ll come and they won’t care about prescriptions.
“Dope heads will decide they need to do
some shopping, and I guarantee they’ll come with weapons. This drugstore will be a prime target for all sorts of craziness. I don’t plan to be here. I’m not going to die protecting what’s not mine, but I’m not leaving without some essentials. I say to hell with the law, we’re taking whatever we need. Hurry up! Get the carts. Meet me inside the dispensary behind the counter.”
Nash, hastily followed by Janet, rushed to acquire the carts. Nash grabbed one for the doctor and then tailed Janet into the dispensary where the pharmacist was rushing around, grabbing bottles and packages of medicines and tossing them onto a counter.
“Janet,” he shouted, “divide everything into three piles. I’m going to open the drug safe. We may need some controlled substances, pain killers.”
“Speed too, Novocain and syringes if you have it.” Nash called back.
“Of course,” the man answered. “I have vanity surgical kits too, but they have top-notch equipment in them.
Nash helped Janet sort the assorted meds into three equal piles, noting as he did so that the man had remembered to grab sutures. As they sorted, the man tossed three leather bags onto the counter. Moments later, the pharmacist joined them, dumping a pile of bottles from his arms onto the counter and began helping them sort.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he said.
Nash glanced at the label on one of the bottles. “I don’t even know what most of these are.”
Janet raked the last few bottles of her pile into her cart. “Come on. We have drug reference books out front.”
“Yes, let’s hurry,” the pharmacist, said. “Follow me and get the same items I do.”
They followed him. Janet detached herself for a moment to grab two drug guides, tossing one into Nash’s cart. They spent the next five minutes racing behind the doctor, tossing items from shelves until the carts were near to overflowing.
“That should do it,” he said. We need to get out of here. Grab some bags at the counter and bag them outside at your vehicles. Good luck.”
The doctor and Janet grabbed handfuls of plastic bags and raced toward the rear of the store. Nash supposed they parked behind the building. He went to the front entrance, stepping aside to allow an elderly couple to enter first.
“The doctor’s out. Just take what you need,” he told them before leaving the store.
He bagged his booty as fast as possible, tying them closed before stowing them inside the trailer. Glancing at his watch, he was amazed at how little time he’d actually spent inside considering the amount of supplies they’d gathered.
Three cars had entered the parking lot as he worked; the passenger’s disembarking and rushing into the store. More arrived as he drove away. Nash wondered if the pharmacist had bothered locking the safe holding the controlled meds.
It was not yet rush hour, but Nash knew the increased traffic on the road was only the beginning of what would soon be a panic driven race to empty the stores of everything a person thought they would need to ride out the coming chaos.
Approaching the turn for Sam’s Club, seeing the lane backed up well before the entrance, he realized it was too late to beat the rush. Not wanting to risk exposure to so many people, anyone of whom might already be infected, carriers of the mutated Ebola virus, he shifted to the left hand lane and passed on by.
He fingered the button on his phone for voice command. “Call Jill.”
She answered on the first ring. “I’m done shopping. Walmart was crazy packed. No way am I risking myself to that much chance of exposure. I paid a premium, but I bought all the ammunition I need from a pawnshop. I’m headed for the truck stop.”
Nash said, “I hear you. I never made it to Sam’s Club. I stopped at a medical supply and by the time I left there Sam’s parking lot was filling up.”
“Actually that’s good news. I didn’t even think about meds or first aid stuff,” Jill said.
Nash turned onto the ramp that gave him access to the northbound interstate highway. “Tell me you bought lots of non-perishable food.”
“Plenty,” she replied. “Plenty of other stuff too. Paper towels, toilet paper, you name it. Two of their employees loaded it all into the van I rented. I don’t think I could fit another thing in here. Even the passenger’s side is so full I can barely see my side mirror.”
Nash’s phone chimed, indicating he had an incoming call. “Jill, I’ve got another call.”
“Take it. See you at the truck stop.”
Nash ended the call. His phone showed he’d missed a call from Matt Braxton. He gave a voice command to call him back. Mat answered, panic removing a customary greeting.
“Jesus H Christ, you were right. What was your plan?”
Nash frowned and said, “My plan is my plan. I wanted the meet to give you a warning so you could make plans of your own.”
“Well I don’t have one. Annette and I tried to go shopping, you know; to get the essentials, but fuck man, we couldn’t get five miles. The inner city is bumper-to-bumper traffic. I know you have some place to go, probably all sorts of supplies stocked. We have three children. We need help.”
Again, Nash frowned toward his phone sitting in its dashboard cradle. “Matt, I don’t know what to tell you. One thing I will tell you is I’m in the same boat as you. I managed to get a few supplies, and as far as a place to go, all I have is a maybe.”
Matt’s anger exploded from the phone. “I’m calling bullshit on you. As rich as you are you probably have several places to go. There’s no fucking way you’d take time to meet with us if you weren’t already prepared.”
Nash fought to control his temper, thinking he’d rather be stuck in a foxhole with his brother-in-law Hank rather than this crude individual. He decided to cut the conversation short.
“I made a mistake calling the meeting and it caused me to miss out on shopping I needed to do. Good luck, Matt, take care of your family.” He ended the call and concentrated on driving.
Almost immediately his phone spoke. You have an incoming call from Nora.
“Accept,” Nash ordered. Then he said, “Hello sis. I hope you’re calling to tell me you’re on the road.”
Nash could hear the fear and almost see the tears behind her reply.
“No, we’re not. I’m at Grady Memorial hospital. We were in the grocery store racing like crazy to fill our carts. Hank just stopped, said I don’t feel good and then he fell down… He just dropped to the floor. I followed the ambulance here. Nash, he’s had a heart attack!”
Astonished, Nash said, “What is he, twenty-seven… twenty-eight? How could he have a heart attack? Not giving her time to answer his rhetorical question, he asked, “What are you going to do. Should I come get you and the girls?”
“No. I’m not leaving Hank. He’s conscious. We’ll wait here until the doctors let me in to see him or at least tell me what we can do.”
“Nora, Grady memorial is Atlanta’s major trauma center. Aren’t there people with Ebola…?”
“Yes, yes. There are, but they’re in another part of the hospital.”
While speaking, Nash had pulled into the emergency lane of the freeway. He said to his sister, “What can I do to help?”
“Pray for us. Nash, there is no way you can get to us. The hospital is in the downtown area. There is so much traffic on the streets that the ambulance took a half hour to go the final three blocks. Everyone’s panicking, driving like crazy people, wouldn’t get out of the way. They ignored the siren and lights.
“You can’t help. We’re stuck here and I think we’re going to die here… Oh wait, here comes the nurse, I love you, Nash.”
Nora cut the connection. Nash sat a few moments longer, torn between attempting to go to his sister’s aid or proceeding to the meet with Jill. A look at the freeway made his decision for him.
The southbound lanes leading into the city were heavy with traffic. Nash assumed people were hoping to stock up on supplies at the big-box-stores. He knew it wouldn’t take long for traffic to b
ack up and come to a stop even this far out.
Compared to normal traffic, the lanes leading from the city were more crowded than usual. Moving back onto the road he saw that many of the vehicles he passed or ones passing him were loaded to the gills with supplies, people leaving the crowded urban and suburban areas of Atlanta, probably headed for some place that offered refuge from contact with people.
Fifteen minutes of driving brought him to the exit for the truck stop. Pulling into the congested lot, he saw cars and trucks lined up at every pump. He parked off to the side and stepped from his jeep. Reluctant to leave the Jeep and trailer unattended, he stood on tiptoes to survey the vast lot, hoping to spot Jill.
Jill was standing at a pump beside the U-Haul van she’d rented. She had the nozzle of the pump inside the mouth of a five-gallon gas can. Three more containers were near her. Irritated drivers were shouting for the ones at the pumps to hurry. The man in the pickup directly behind Jill’s van seemed particularly irritated at her for filling so many containers, pushing on his horn and leaning from his window to shout at her.
Nash wasn’t able to discern what he was shouting, but he figured it wasn’t anything a child should hear. Jill paid the man no attention, calmly finishing filling the container, capping it and then loading all four into the rear doors of the van.
She paused before getting into the van, like Nash, standing on tiptoes to survey the lot. Nash waved both hands in the air hoping to gain her attention. It worked. She waved to him and climbed into the driver’s seat.
Nash wasn’t able to watch her pull away from the pump. A hard object, poked painfully into his side, commanded all his attention. He turned to see a skinny middle-aged man with long, scraggly brown hair surrounding a thin hawkish face. The object he felt was the barrel of a pistol.
“Don’t make a sound, mother-fucker. I want the keys to your jeep.”
Nash saw a well-groomed middle-aged man walk up behind the one holding the pistol. This man had a pistol of his own. He grabbed a handful of brown hair, placed the barrel of his pistol against the back of the robber’s head and copied his words, “Don’t make a sound, mother-fucker. I want the gun you’re holding. Put the safety on, drop it and leave.”
Working With Cedar: A Post Apocalyptic Tale Page 3
