by Julia Shupe
Jeremy had practically developed an ulcer from the stress. It was the unanswered questions that kept him awake at night—the ‘not knowing’. Susan was right. It could be anything and the simple fact remained that they lacked the sophisticated equipment to run proper tests for a diagnosis. Hospitals were the last civilized facilities to eventually crumble. The military had taken them over when Jeremy was just a young boy. He was born in a hospital, yes, but Sam wasn’t as lucky. It was shortly after his tenth birthday that the hospital in Sevierville had finally been abandoned. Though the authorities first tried to maintain it, they had quickly given up. In the end it was taken hostage by a group of desperate citizens who had banded together and raided it for medicines. They’d set half the building ablaze and driven out the military, killing medical staff and innocent patients alike. But true to form, the violent coup hadn’t helped anyone. Amid an exchange of gunfire and homemade bombs, it had only succeeded in destroying something valuable. Now the building was nothing but a burnt shell. The patient wings were blackened and open to the elements, and the rest had been picked clean of anything useful. After the uprising the military hadn’t seen fit to repopulate the building. They’d packed up, left, and never returned.
Jeremy frowned. What a senseless thing to do. How lovely that the foolishness of a small group of people had led to a complete shut down of a facility desperately needed by all. But that’s how things had fallen apart everywhere. Society hadn’t ended with a pop or a bang. It hadn’t been one specific act or several in synthesis that sent everyone scurrying underground. Little by little, civilization had simply languished. It had wasted away, a slow wilting with the passage of time. What was at first a measured starvation, eventually progressed into widespread famine.
The four of them had agonized over Sam’s deteriorating health. They’d sat up night after night and argued heatedly, encyclopedias and medical journals spilled across the floor. They’d made notes and charts, kept records and logs, all of which they’d used to carefully detail her growing list of symptoms. Jeremy was amazed at just how many diseases had similar symptoms. It was exceedingly dangerous for someone with no medical background to attempt to diagnose a problem with nothing but a few books at hand.
Weight loss? Well! That could be any number of things couldn’t it? Was the person dying of cancer, or did he simply not like his green vegetables? The process was maddening, but they’d soon narrowed it down to a handful of possibilities, each more frightening than the last. It was only after Sam had awakened, screaming and crying from yet another nap, that they’d finally figured it out. Well, not they, Jeremy corrected. He. It had been Jeremy’s father Liam who’d made the rather absurd discovery.
Sam had been groggy and crying as she normally was after a nap. She was uncomfortable in her starving body and she liked to make it known. Chaos had ensued as they struggled to find something—anything—that would bring her a bit of relief. Juice? Crackers? A bit of powdered milk with water heated over a flame? Soup? A backrub? A walk? Freddie the Frog? Mr. Coots the cat? Nothing seemed to help and Jeremy and Susan had been close to tears. They’d thrown their hands in the air in defeat until Liam had crept silently behind her and trapped her tiny fist in his. With speed and efficiency, he’d splayed her hand and popped his blood sugar needle into the tip of her finger. Lo and behold—five Hundred. Five Hundred! It was a blood sugar level so high that it had shocked them all to silence. They’d been lucky! Thank God she hadn’t descended into a permanent coma.
For all intents and purposes Grandpa Liam had sunk into a depression after that. Though Jeremy thought the self-deprecation ridiculous, his father wouldn’t be swayed. He considered himself a failure, was dogged in his isolation. For more than a month he’d misdiagnosed a disease that was manifest in his own body. In his mind, he’d been careless and neglectful, allowed someone he loved to suffer unnecessarily. Time and time again, Jeremy reminded his father that hindsight was 20/20, but it had taken Liam a long time to forgive himself.
Over the course of the next month they’d slowly coaxed baby Sam back to health. Grandpa Liam put her on a stricter diet. He decreased her sugars and began to dose her with the proper amounts of insulin. The effects were nothing short of dramatic. She began to put on weight almost immediately. She was happier and regained the proper daredevil energy of a girl her age. They’d all reveled in the success, relished the fact that they’d solved the problem themselves and without the intervention of a professional.
But the elation was short lived. Soon after, they’d had to face difficult truths. It was Liam—of course—who had first brought it up. Brows furrowed, he explained that he had supplied the ark with a handsome supply of insulin pills. This they already knew. Yes, he’d planned accordingly, considered himself lucky while so many others in the outside world would have already succumbed to their symptoms. But for all his careful planning, he’d only stocked enough for one person. To purchase any more, to expend additional resources; at the time it hadn’t made much sense. He and Olivia had planned for the proper amount of medicine to treat an already middle-aged man through the end of his lifetime, but they hadn’t set aside any more than that. Back then the encapsulated insulin pills were a newer technology. They were expensive, and Liam and Olivia hadn’t seen fit to spend any more money than was absolutely necessary. Liam had expressed all of this as they sat around the fire just a few evenings prior.
“Jeremy, we need to find more pills. My supply won’t last forever.” He looked at his hands and then raised his head and met his son’s gaze. “Not for the both of us at least.”
“Alright,” Jeremy had allowed. “What do you expect we’ll find at the hospital?”
“I haven’t been down there in years,” his father answered. “I have no idea, but I think we need to consider the fact that we no longer have an inexhaustible supply.”
So here they were. Having fully vetted the mission from the comforts of the living room, they’d set out at sundown, crept through the broken half of the building, and now crouched in darkness, the hospital sprawled before them. They edged through the burnt sections first, eager to get out of the line of sight of others. These rooms had been open to the elements for decades. Soil, rich in fertilizing ash, had spawned a diversity of ferns and other plants. They sprung up through the cracked linoleum like patched tufts of wiry hair on a balding man. And the place had a strange smell, a mixture of burnt materials and damp, mildewed cloth.
The four of them stepped through the encroaching jungle and moved toward the long corridors that led to the emergency rooms and intensive care units. Liam had thought that most of the medications could be found there. Jeremy wasn’t so sure. They proceeded in a sort of awed silence, their own footfalls echoing strangely in the drafty halls. They’d chosen to attempt this mission in the dead of night, and now held fast to flashlights to guide their path. Dry leaves, propelled by the wind, crunched beneath their boots and chased one another in annular paths. Shadows weaved with their passing, ghosts left to dance on the walls of a place where humans had once acted humane.
Jeremy and Susan followed Liam and peered around a corner that led to what must have once been the nurse’s central station. They stopped short in response to Liam’s outstretched hand. His voice was low, his warning severe.
“We’re not alone. There are others here.”
Jeremy didn’t doubt that. He figured many people would think to find shelter in hospitals. It just made sense. It was one of the main reasons he’d been opposed to Susan joining them in the first place. One of the most important lessons he’d learned from his father pertained to the very nature of human beings. In desperate times of need, humans could be the most dangerous species on earth. He leaned forward.
“How many are there? Can you see?” he whispered to his father.
Liam answered by lifting the gun from his waistband, barrel pointed down, and holding it out in front of him. Jeremy strained to see around his father’s body, couldn’t, and began to feel
impatient as the three waited for what seemed like an eternity. Dropping his gaze, he pulled Susan away from the wall and pointed to the corner where the floor met the molding.
“One foot away from the wall,” he reminded her. “Bullets can ricochet.”
Her eyes widened and he had to remind himself that she had wanted to be here. They circled the nurse’s station first, slipped inside, and quietly nosed through wreckage that had already been thoroughly pillaged. Having found nothing they followed signs toward the operating rooms then finally to a large supply room at the back. It had been badly plundered, the majority of its contents strewn about in careless piles. Most of the equipment was useless to them, or to anyone else for that matter. High tech equipment that rested on rolling carts lined the walls. Test tubes, lengths of hollow rubber piping, and various smaller apparatuses littered the floor.
And if the supply closets were bad, the hospital pharmacy was worse. The destruction here was total. It was as if a battle had been waged within. Bullet holes peppered the walls. Empty shell casings littered the floor. But it was here they figured the best of the lot could be found. They spent hours searching its depths. Each chose a corner of the room, and each sifted through the rubble with meticulous care. Jeremy peered at Susan over his shoulder. On one side of her body, she was forming a pile of trash, and on the other, a tiny collection of items she must have thought valuable. His gaze traveled over the room as he mentally performed the ritual he’d been taught. He located the nearest exits, scanned for places of concealment, or large objects that would provide decent cover. It was a ritual that had become instinctual to him, one that he’d need to instill in his wife. He returned his gaze to the heap of crap in front of him. His search had yielded nothing useful and he was beginning to feel discouraged to say the least. Susan stood, dusted her khakis, and moved toward him from across the room. A barely perceptible shake of her head confirmed that she’d been no more fortunate.
In the end they found nothing useful, gave up, and pressed on to the next facility. The entire expedition was a series of repetitions. Wash, rinse, and repeat ad nauseam, and after all was said and done, they’d searched three separate care centers and not gained much to show for it. They’d amassed a collection of clean needles and several bundles of towels, two bottles of antibiotics left in a patient’s overnight bag at the bottom of a closet, and of course the coup de grâce: three bottles of insulin pills. The treasure was small and disheartening, but Jeremy tried to tell himself it was more than they had before.
The three gave up and headed for home just as the sun was beginning to brighten the eastern sky. It bled purple as it arose, blackness giving way to shades of indigo and eggplant; a growing bruise that mirrored their own battered sentiments. Jeremy was the first to break the silence. There was no denying it. It hadn’t been a successful night and he was worried about his father’s state of mind. Liam was taking this much too personally and Jeremy suddenly trembled at the sight of his father. He’d passed well beyond his characteristic determination and had begun to border on obsessive. Clearly unsettled by their small measure of success, his body was rigid, taut as the high E string of a guitar. He was alert and scanning his surroundings with wiry energy. His hands were balled into fists that hung unyielding at his sides. Jeremy hated seeing him like this, but it wasn’t hard to consider this whole thing from his father’s perspective, was it? Liam had spent years planning for every eventuality. He’d been meticulous with it, practically made a career of it, but had never conceived of something like this. Jeremy sensed an underlying anger that seethed just below the surface; a simmering rage that he feared his father might turn inward. Jeremy knew his father loved Sam, but it was the depth of that adoration that so terrified him. He feared his father would never forgive himself if she ran out of medication before she’d lived a full life. So the true question remained, one that kept Jeremy awake at night: what was his father willing to do to ensure Sam’s safety? What was he willing to sacrifice?
Jeremy posed a rather inane question to bridge the silent chasm between them. He winced at the absurdity of it.
“Didn’t find much did we, Dad?”
Liam’s mouth was grim. “No, son. We didn’t. But we’ll keep looking. As long as it takes.”
As ever, Susan seemed determined to consider the positives. “That’s right. We press on tomorrow. There are plenty of hospitals, hospices, and other care facilities in the area, not to mention the many Urgent Cares and after-hours clinics. We can easily expand our search grid to Knoxville, Pigeon Forge, and beyond. If we need to, we can even pack overnight bags and journey to Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia.”
“We’ll probably have to,” Liam confirmed gravely, his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him. “We’ll find more,” he confirmed through clenched teeth. “We will. We just need to think, to plan, and then to execute on those plans with efficiency–“
“Freeze, old man.”
The voice sprang from Jeremy’s left, the sound intrusive as it disrupted the soft cadence of the burgeoning dawn. Susan folded her body in front of Jeremy’s, a brave and selfless reflex that would later stun and amaze him.
“Drop your weapons and raise your hands above your head.“
Jeremy eyed his father sidelong and mimicked his slow three-quarter turn toward the gunmen. There were two of them, most likely the same two they’d heard earlier in the halls of Leconte Medical Center.
“I said drop your weapons.”
The man’s calm voice, soft and insistent, was more effective than a yell would have been. Jeremy lowered himself to a crouch, intent on setting his gun gently on the pavement, but curiously his father didn’t do the same. Instead, he addressed the men with confidence.
“We’ll just be on our way, gentleman. There’s nothing at that hospital worth taking. I know you were there too. I heard you. But I had the decency to leave well enough alone. I only ask for the same courtesy in return. Now—I’m not going to put down this weapon so I suggest you make your decision and let us be on our way.”
The smaller gunman seemed surprised. Clearly he had expected nothing short of full cooperation. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve got old man and I might be willing to broker a trade.”
Liam shook his head. “Not gonna happen.”
With a sharp click the larger man cocked his weapon and aimed for Liam’s chest. Jeremy’s panic threatened to overwhelm him. His mouth went dry and a cold sweat bubbled from his pores. His father was being an idiot. Was he too depressed to see reason? Give these men what they wanted and move on. It wasn’t as if they’d discovered a goldmine of supplies. None of what they had was worth their lives. Jeremy’s gaze tunneled on the muzzle of the gun and he dared a half step forward.
“Wait!” This from Susan who had lowered her pack to the ground. “We came across a few things,” she stammered as she rummaged the contents of the bag. Her voice shook as she held the bottle of antibiotics up to the dawn light. Gently she shook them as if she were trying to entice an infant with a colorful rattle. “Here. See? Antibiotics. I’m sure you’d agree these are a rare find. Take them. They’re all yours. I’ll hand over this bottle if you’ll just agree to let us pass.”
The smaller man advanced half a step. “And?” he pressed doggedly, his eyes probing the open flap of her backpack.
He advanced another step in Susan’s direction and Jeremy stiffened. Why the hell weren’t some people as afraid of others as he was himself? Was he the idiot? Like fingers scrabbling for purchase at the edge of a cliff, his mind scurried from one unlikely idea to the next. Every scenario didn’t bode well for his family. In all likelihood, these men would strip them of their possessions, shoot them, and leave them for dead anyway. Or worse, they’d shoot one of them, and demand that the others bring them back to the cabin.
His father must have agreed. In a flurry of sudden movement Liam raised his weapon, and without words or further explanation, buried two bullets in the heads of the would-be thieves. T
he echoes from the blasts were sharp concussive forces, immense pressure on the eardrums that left them hollow and ringing. The two men fell to the pavement in a heap of folded arms and legs. Their scalps gleamed wet in the wan light. Jeremy was astounded.
“Dad?”
He’d never seen Liam cause bodily harm to another person much less kill him. He hadn’t even known that facet lived inside his father.
“Let’s go home, Jeremy.”
“Dad! What the hell?”
Liam quickly turned and caught him off guard. “Son, we don’t have time for this kind of nonsense and we don’t have bottles of anything to spare for anyone.” He peered over at Susan, his eyes accusatory. “Not antibiotics, not insulin pills, not even a bottle of Tic-Tacs. It’s every man for himself out here, and given your daughter’s condition, it’s becoming more and more apparent to me that we’re going to have to venture farther and farther from the comfort of our sanctuary to find what we need—as most others have been doing for decades, I might add.”
Jeremy peered at the bits of bone and brain that had splattered the road. He tried to swallow but couldn’t. “But did you have to kill them?”
His father moved closer and grasped Jeremy’s hand in his. “Son, it’s only when we hesitate that we fail. Act boldly and without fear. Particularly when you’ve got something to lose. This world doesn’t reward the meek and docile. It doesn’t reward those who sit and do nothing.”
Jeremy furrowed his brow, squeezed his father’s hand, and lifted it to the light. He flipped it over, massaged the weathered palm, felt the aftermath of adrenaline beginning to manifest as tears that gathered at the corners of his eyes. What would he have done if his father had been shot? What would any of them done? He drew a ragged breath and smoothed his father’s hand in his. Jeremy had always thought his father’s hands were beautiful. Though Liam had always joked that he’d spent his life inside a lab, his hands told an altogether different story. Perhaps they may have been lab hands once, but to Jeremy they were the hands that had worked and toiled to create this life. To him, they were the hands that had stopped at nothing to shape a world his son could find comfort in. To him, they would always be beautiful, skin pleasantly browned, nails clean and white.
