Natural Disaster (Book 3): Storm

by Lou Cadle

  The man shrugged, stepped back, and folded his arms again. Greg saw a group of four or five citizens come around the corner of the next street. “Everybody keep back.”

  They stopped. Greg inched forward until he was at the fleeing couple. He fished in his belt for plastic cuffs and got first the man’s then the woman’s hands immobilized behind their backs. He leaned down to release the woman’s bag from where it was hung up on a twisted bed frame. He unzipped it and looked inside. He was expecting jewels, gold, guns, small high-ticket items.

  What he saw was mail, dirty envelopes. What the hell?

  He glanced at the couple again. The man was muttering something to his accomplice, so he yanked him upright and pushed him ten feet away, then got him down on his belly again. Greg went back and looked again at the contents of the bag. He found two driver’s licenses—one of them from this neighborhood, one of them from west of town. A half-used checkbook. And mail. He looked inside one uncanceled envelope and saw a check written to an insurance company in a shaky hand. Probably an older person who didn’t know how to pay bills online. Another envelope held a brand new credit card, from the feel of it.

  “You’re identity thieves?” he said to the woman. “That’s the scam?”

  She said nothing.

  At that moment, Massey and Evans came around the corner at a run. They approached at a trot and Greg said. “These are looters. Identity theft seems to be their thing.” He described the brief chase and what was in the bag.

  Massey asked, “You want us to take them?”

  “Yeah, but—where?” The jail was destroyed as well as City Hall and the station.

  Massey hauled the man to his feet. “Sheriff’s deputies will transport them to County.”

  “Right,” he said. “Don’t forget the bag of evidence.”

  Evans was already pushing the woman to the west.

  “You’ll have paperwork to fill out,” said Massey, “As soon as there are forms again.”

  “Yeah. I bet they’re here by the end of the day.”

  “Anything else you need help with?”

  Greg glanced at the Colt owner, thought about it, then shook his head. “No. Everything’s copasetic.”

  “How’s your kid?”

  Greg felt a wave of guilt. During the excitement, she had left his thoughts for a moment. “Still unconscious. I need to check in with my aunt soon.”

  “She’s with her?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s good. I’m glad you have someone.” He nodded at Greg and led the man away.

  Greg went over to where the Colt lay, cracked it open and removed the remaining rounds. He walked it over to the man. “This yours?”

  “It is. I’m a collector.”

  “Real, or replica?”

  “It’s real. First generation, 1879, Army issue.”

  “And if I asked you for proof it was yours?”

  The man opened his mouth, shut it, looked around and gave an expressive shrug. “I suppose I couldn’t prove it. Not right now.”

  “Were you aiming to hit those people, or not?”

  “Trying to stop them. Looked like you needed the help.”

  Greg handed him back the empty weapon. “I appreciate the thought. But let the authorities do the shooting from now on.”

  “They were looters?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Then I’m a little sorry I didn’t aim for them.”

  “I understand the sentiment, but I’m not the person to say that to.”

  Finally, the fellow looked sheepish.

  “This was your place?” Greg asked.

  “Yeah. Mess, ain’t it?”

  “Mine looks the same.”

  “Sorry to hear it.”

  “Good luck finding more of your stuff.” Greg raised a hand and walked away. He could arrest the guy, but he sympathized. You lose everything, and here comes someone trying to steal the bits you have left. Seems pretty normal to want to shoot at them. Nobody was dead, and the right people got arrested. The rest of it, he could let go.

  He hadn’t heard it arrive, but a small fire truck had managed to get in to the street where he had left Higgins. They were hauling a stretcher out just as he came up.

  “What’s the news?”

  “She’s still alive. What’s the news with you? Catch them all right?”

  “I did. Massey and Evans hauled them away.”

  “Looters?”

  “Looks like they were going for documents, for identity theft.”

  “Kinda smart. For the next week or two, all these lives will be in disarray. It’d be hard to determine who is the real Greg Duncan.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “I’ve read about people faking their identity to get Red Cross emergency funds, too.”

  Greg looked around the utter devastation and thought of all the people who did need help. “Lowest of the low.”

  “I hope there’s a Hell. Doubt it, but it’d sure be nice to think they’re headed there.”

  Greg watched the EMTs getting the woman loaded onto the truck, made sure they didn’t need any help, and took the opportunity to pull out his cell phone. No signal, still. “Hey, can we take a break for fifteen minutes? Maybe catch a ride out with these guys?”

  “You need to piss or something?”

  That wouldn’t be a bad idea either. “I was wanting to try and call in to the hospital again. My daughter.”

  “Right. Okay, sure. I’ll radio in.”

  The EMTs let them climb aboard and got them out of the debris field and to the rental car. Higgins suggested they drive up to a gas station convenience store first, so they could get something to drink. There, Greg was able to get through to Sherryl. No change with Holly. “Tell her I love her,” he said, his throat closing on the last words.

  “I will. And she knows, honey. She knows.”

  Chapter 15

  Malika woke a long time later. Her mother was asleep in a chair. She stretched cautiously and her legs twanged in pain. “Shoot,” she said.

  “Malika?” Adam.

  She turned her head and saw him in the dim light. She reached for his hand at the same time he reached for hers.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I am.”

  “Doesn’t hurt?”

  “A little. But they’re keeping me doped up.”

  “And you hating drugs like you do.”

  “I’m feeling more kindly about them now.”

  He smiled, and it warmed her all over.

  “Thank you,” she said. “For helping me back there.”

  “Nothing I’d rather do,” he said, and he winced. “That came out wrong. I’d rather you hadn’t been hurt at all.”

  “I understood you. And thank you for that, too. For being loyal. I probably don’t deserve it.”

  He was shaking his head. “Never mind that right now. Just get well.”

  “Is your family okay? With the tornado?”

  “Totally. Everyone is fine, but we lost our satellite dish and some shingles off the roof.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s nothing compared to other people. It missed our house by a block and a half. But you should see Fidelity. Some of it is smashed flat.”

  “You brought my mom?” She turned her head, and her mother was still sleeping.

  “My mom brought us both and talked the nurses into letting me in here with your mom. My mom will be back in the morning, at visiting hours.” He squeezed her hand tighter. “I’m so glad you’re awake.”

  “I guess they know I don’t have good insurance by now,” Malika said.

  “I don’t think it matters.”

  It did. She knew there was no sense in explaining it to Adam. What would happen to her would happen, with her having no say-so in it. They’d kick her out or not.

  “And if it did matter, I’d start an online campaign for you, and get all your medical bills paid.”

  “It’s okay,” s
he said. She didn’t want to talk about money or the internet or anything at all. Just having him here and holding her hand was enough.

  “Do you want me to wake your mom up?”

  “In a minute,” she said. “How was she? When you told her?”

  “You know your mom.”

  She had to smile at that. “Yes.”

  “She depends on you a lot.”

  Also not news to Malika.

  “If you need to, while you’re recovering, you can stay with us. My mom said it was okay.”

  “She’s nice, your mom.”

  “About important stuff, she definitely comes through.”

  They shared a moment of quiet and then Malika gathered up her courage. “Adam, you know….”

  “What?”

  “I still love you.”

  He closed his eyes and raised her hand and kissed it. She felt a tear drop before she saw that he was crying.

  “I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

  He dropped her hand to swipe at his face. “We’ll talk in a few days, Malika. Right now, you save your strength to get better.”

  “Did you hear what’s wrong with me?”

  “No. They talked to your mother alone about that.”

  Malika gave him a brief explanation of the kidney issue. “But they told me I’d walk again.”

  “That’s great. And I’ll do whatever you need for you. Get your assignments from school. Carry you if I need to.”

  She laughed. “I appreciate the chivalry, but it isn’t necessary.”

  “I’ll do anything you need. Anything. I’m your friend, no matter what.”

  He was. She knew they wouldn’t be together after college, more than likely. She knew the statistics about high school romance. But he was her first lover, and her first love. She hoped they’d be friends forever. “I guess I’m ready to face my mom. And while I talk to her, could you hunt down a nurse and get me some more drugs?”

  “You’re becoming a regular doper,” he said.

  “For a day or two, I think I’ll give it a try.”

  He got up, kissed her forehead, and then backed off. Asking permission first with a look, he leaned in and gave her a tender kiss on the lips.

  She was able to forget the pain while he was kissing her.

  *

  Greg had finally ended the longest shift of his life and was in Sherryl’s house, showering and changing into some of Jim’s old clothes. They were at least a size too big. He took a moment, standing in front of the closet, to think about Jim and his kind, patient ways. He had been a good husband to Sherryl, and she would miss him. Every day, she had gone to that nursing home. He wondered what would fill her hours now.

  And if Holly died, what would fill his life?

  Nothing. Nothing could ever replace a Holly-sized absence. She was his heart, his life. Without her, he’d be like a boat without rudder, sails, oar, or engine, stuck in a gale on the ocean.

  He was bone tired. He was assaulted by images of bodies and body parts. He wanted nothing more than the oblivion of twelve hours of sleep. But he locked up the house and drove to the hospital to be with his daughter.

  He had negotiated an evening shift the next day from the chief, who seemed to have forgotten her earlier irritation with him in the face of all the work she had to do. She looked even more worn out than he felt, he mused, as he drove down to Cincinnati. New to the job, probably feeling the pressure of being the first woman police chief, and with a huge disaster on her hands. She had given him a whole day shift to be with Holly, so he was thinking more kindly of her. He’d have to nap at the hospital.

  He also thought about the new card that was in his wallet. It had come from the woman Guardsman he had worked with that first night, the hard worker. She had said, “I know this isn’t a great time for you. But if you ever want to get together for coffee,” and handed it to him.

  Any other time, he would have been thrilled. Right now, it was far down his priority list. He had to be with Holly. He had to keep his job. And he had to be kinder to his aunt, who had lost her husband today—no, yesterday.

  As he drove into the hospital parking lot, he felt sick—sick at heart, sick with fear. Again, he had a hard time finding the ward Holly was on, but he finally stumbled upon it. He stopped to show his ID to the nurse and went back to Holly’s room.

  *

  She looked so tiny and helpless and pale lying there. He kissed both her cheeks and lay one of his against it. He remembered the last normal morning, when she’d complained about his scratchy face. Her face was so smooth, and soft, and perfect. She’d barely begun life. It wouldn’t be fair if it was snatched away from her now.

  He looked at the machines, keeping track of her heart beat and blood pressure and brain function. Her head was erratically shaved and leads were attached that led to the machines. He looked at all the readouts and had no idea what they were telling him. At least all of them were changing all the time. That must be good.

  He knew he was snatching at any sign of hope, but it didn’t stop him from snatching.

  His aunt was dozing in the chair, pushed back all the way. That it looked comfortable alleviated a spoonful of his guilt for asking her to stay here.

  He let her sleep and pulled up the straight chair tucked into a corner of the room. It was as uncomfortable as it looked. Good, maybe it’d serve as his penance for letting Holly be ripped out of his arms. He should have never let it happen. He tried to be a good father, but all the good he had done in the past six years had been erased by his failure in the tornado.

  *

  He woke with a start.

  “Sorry,” his aunt’s voice said. She took her hand off his shoulder and stood in front of him, waiting for him to become oriented.

  “I must have dozed off.”

  “You need sleep.”

  The room had no windows, so he had no idea how long he’d been out. He checked his watch. He’d been asleep for a while.

  He stretched out kinks in his neck and went to check Holly. No change he could see. He turned back to Sherryl, who had taken a seat in the hard chair. “You must want to go home.”

  “When do you need to work again?”

  “I should leave about 3:30 this afternoon.”

  “Okay, I will take some time in the morning then. Check the house.”

  “I was just there. Everything is okay.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I took some of Jim’s clothes.”

  “I noticed. You look like a teenager wearing those oversize clothes.”

  “I’m so sorry, Sherryl. You must be devastated. And I haven’t been supportive at all.”

  “You have your own worries. And Jim—well, maybe it was a blessing, all things considered.”

  “I know you’ll miss him.”

  “I was missing him already.” She gave him a sad smile. “I’m going to see a funeral director today. I imagine there’s a line. No hurry on his cremation, as far as I’m concerned. I don’t even mind if we have to go to Eaton or Dayton to have it.”

  “Dayton was hit, too.”

  “Or down here. Wherever.” She frowned. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  “I need to know if I committed a crime.”

  “You?” He smiled for the first time in a day. “I doubt it seriously.”

  “Jim didn’t just die. I let him die.”

  “I’m sorry. What do you mean? How could you have stopped it?”

  “I could have gotten help. But he asked me not to. He had a moment of clarity. And he said he wanted to be let go.” Her eyes filled with tears. “So I let him go. Someone even came by and asked, and I said he was gone.” She used her blouse to dab away the one tear that had spilled over. “Does that make me a killer?”

  He took her hand. “Not under the law, and not under moral law, either. I think it just makes you brave.”

  “No, not brave. I feel guilty.”

  “I wish you wouldn�
��t. Tell me how it happened.”

  By the time she was halfway through the story, he was shaking his head. Nothing in what she said was changing his mind.

  “Look,” he said. “You know what triage is, right?”

  “Of course.”

  If you had pulled in an EMT or doctor, they would have probably passed him by anyway. I saw it out there myself.” Luckily, he hadn’t made any of those decisions himself, like black-tagging someone who was still breathing. But had the day’s events changed just a mite, had the fire station been destroyed, he might have had to make that call himself. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “He said it’s what he wanted.”

  “Then do him the honor of believing it. He’s at peace now.”

  She brushed it away. “I’m sorry. You’re worried about Holly, and I’m troubling you with my moral crisis.”

  “I have room in my heart for both of you.”

  “Why don’t you take the reclining chair. I’ve had enough rest, and you can sleep until the doctors come in. The nurse said it would be early.”

  “You’ll wake me if anything happens?”

  “I will.”

  After checking Holly one last time, he sank gratefully into the soft chair. Worry should have kept him awake, but physical exhaustion from hauling debris around had taken its toll. He sunk into oblivion.

  When next he woke, it was to his aunt saying his name urgently. His eyes popped open and he lurched to his feet. “What?”

  “Holly’s eyes are open.”

  He jumped to her side to see. Her eyes were open. He looked into them and said, “Holly. Honey, it’s me.”

  There was no reaction at all. He waved his hand in front of her face, but her eyes didn’t follow them. Lights on, nobody home. The awful phrase went through his mind before he could censor it. Anger at himself made his voice sharp. “Holly. Wake up!”

  She frowned.

  “This has to be good, right?” he said to his aunt. “It has to.”

  “I’m sure it is. I’m going to go get the nurse.”

  With so many leads and lines going in and out of her, he couldn’t shake her. But he wanted to. He wanted to shake her awake. “C’mon, kiddo. Let’s go,” he said. “I love you. I need you, baby.”

  The nurse came in then and shooed him aside. She checked Holly, and she checked the readouts at the machines.