“Oh, gosh, you took them off corpses?”
The sheriff nodded, as if entirely unaware why this might bother Shane. “The makeup case was on the floorboard. It can act like a brace, and we can use the belt to fasten it to the back of her head. That way, when we carry her, her neck won’t move around. What do you think?”
The idea was simple but perfect. Shane was impressed. He clapped the old sheriff on the back.
“It’s a great idea. Thanks, James. I mean it. Thanks for your help.” You can talk my ear off anytime you want, old man. I owe you big time.
“Just doing my job,” he said, adjusting the brim of his hat for no particular reason.
In the end, the makeup case worked perfectly. It was long enough to cover the back of her neck and the base of her skull. Shane wrapped one belt around Jodi’s head, fastening it at her forehead., and put the other one around her shoulders. Then they carried her, Shane grabbing her under the armpits and James holding her feet. Shane lifted her high enough that the makeup case was propped against his shoulder to give her neck extra stability.
“Let’s take it slow,” he said. “You’re walking backward, so be careful. Don’t trip. There are a lot of little pieces all over the place.”
James went one slow, deliberate step at a time, moving down the ditch until they were past the charred vehicles. Once they drew up next to the van, they sidestepped out of the ditch. With his right hand, Shane opened the side door on the van. Then he climbed up into the back and pulled Jodi onto the carpet, laying her behind the passenger seat.
“That’ll work,” he said, unfastening the belt and sliding it gently out from under her. “I’m glad you came with me. I needed the help.” He stepped out of the van and closed the door.
“I’ve worked my share of accidents scenes, I’m afraid,” the sheriff said.
Shane shook the sheriff’s hand as the old man gave him an “aw, shucks” grin.
Before they got back in the van, Shane cleared some of the debris, making sure the right lane was clear enough that the van could get past. Then he climbed in behind the steering wheel. The engine was already running, so he put it in drive. As he pulled off the shoulder of the road, passing over the clearest spot in the scattered debris, he saw a flash of distant headlights in the sideview mirror. The mirror was still cracked, so the lights appeared as a dozen broken fragments, but Shane faintly heard the growl of an engine.
Immediately paranoid at running into someone else on the highway at night, he leaned heavily into the accelerator and sped away. Soon they were moving at a risky speed toward Macon.
“There won’t be a hospital in any of these little towns,” Sheriff Cooley said. “Allentown’s got a clinic, but I doubt it’s open this late, not with the power out.”
“That’s fine,” Shane said. “She needs urgent care anyway, not some family clinic.”
“Best place will be Coliseum,” the sheriff said. “Take the next exit at Smithsonia and cut up to East Macon. We’ll be going past Beth’s neighborhood, so if you want to stop first—”
“No, I want to get Jodi to the hospital as soon as possible,” Shane said. “Keep me pointed in the right direction.”
“It’s not too far,” he said. “Depending on traffic, of course.”
Though it was only a few miles, the drive to Coliseum Hospital was nerve-racking, and Shane struggled to keep the van at a safe speed. He wanted to floor it. From time to time, he heard Jodi moan or cough or make some other soft sound, and it only intensified his sense of desperation. What if she was dying? Though he didn’t see any serious injury other than the knot on her head, what if she had an internal hemorrhage? He had a terrible fear that he would pull into the hospital parking lot only to find that she was already gone.
He followed Sheriff Cooley’s directions, cutting north from the interstate toward East Macon and then turning due west toward the heart of Macon itself. He tried not to jostle Jodi around too much, but there were just so many obstacles on the road. Coliseum Hospital was on Emery Highway, and the emergency care entrance was visible from the road. Even before he pulled into the parking lot, Shane could tell it was a madhouse. People were clustered under the porte cochere. Through the big hospital windows, he saw a room lit by dozens of battery-powered lamps, a press of people crushed inside the waiting room.
“This looks like a big, ugly mess,” he said, pulling close to the entrance. “What are we supposed to do here?”
The van drew the immediate interest of many in the crowd. They turned and gaped at it as if marveling at some wonder out of the ancient past. Nurses and other hospital workers were moving through the crowd with clipboards. One of them spotted the van and broke away from the crowd, approaching Shane’s door. He rolled his window down.
The young African-American woman looked like she’d gone without sleep for days. Her eyes were red, half-lidded, her mouth turned down at the corners. As she approached the open window, she raised a clipboard and pencil.
“I’ll have to take your information out here, sir,” she said. “There’s no room inside.”
“Ma’am, how long is it going to be before we get to see a doctor?” he asked. “My wife has been in an accident, and she’s pretty seriously hurt.”
“I’m sorry to inform you,” the woman replied in a flat, emotionless voice, as if she’d said it a thousand times that night, “but it’ll be hours before you get to see a doctor. That’s assuming we don’t run out of supplies first. There are just so many people waiting in line, and we’re understaffed.”
“Aren’t you guys doing triage?” he asked.
She gave him a sharp look that suggested she took his question as an insult. “Yes, of course we’re doing triage. We’re always doing triage, but there are many seriously injured and sick people here tonight. We’re one of only two fully functioning emergency rooms in the entire county. Now, I’m sorry about that, sir, but that’s just the way it is. I wish I could do more for you, I really do, but you can see how it is.” Shane had never heard anyone say they were sorry with less sincerity, but he bit his lip to keep from responding angrily. It wasn’t this woman’s fault.
“I understand,” he replied, racking his brain to think of an alternative. If the hospital couldn’t help Jodi, where else could they go?
“House fires, car accidents, food poisoning, fights, gunshot wounds, trip and falls,” she said. “We’re seeing it all tonight. We had a family that tried to make a campfire in their living room, and they all walked over here covered in burns from diesel fuel, fifteen people all burned up, including grandma and grandpa and the kids. That’s the kind of night we’re having. If you can wait until morning, we might have more doctors available.”
“No, that’s okay. I’ll figure something out. Thanks.”
With that, the woman nodded and walked away, tapping her clipboard impatiently against her hip.
“What do we do?” Shane wondered aloud, rolling up his window. “She can’t wait hours for medical care. She can’t lie here in the van until morning.”
“Go back to Beth’s house,” the sheriff said. “She’s prepared for all sorts of problems. She’ll know what to do.”
Shane drove out of the parking lot, heading back in the direction of Beth’s house. He knew the sheriff was right, but he hated driving away from the hospital. It felt like he was giving up on Jodi’s best chance of survival.
“I’ll call ahead on the radio,” the sheriff said, picking the shortwave radio off the floorboard and flipping on the power. “They need to know we’re coming. Maybe Beth will have some advice.”
When he spoke into the receiver, Beth responded immediately, as if she’d been sitting by her radio waiting for them. Sheriff Cooley explained the situation. Shane could tell there were other people in the room with her—lots of anxious chatter in the background.
“Dr. Yates,” Beth said. “That’s where you need to go. He runs a clinic on the south side of Macon. Cut over to 75 and take exit 160 South. His c
linic is next to the Waffle House. He lives behind the clinic, so if he’s not in the office, just knock on his door. He knows me. Mention my name, and he will help no matter what time of night it is.”
Shane thanked her, but his heart sank. The south side of Macon. It was going to be a long miserable drive. Highways through town were worse than anywhere else, with far more abandoned, wrecked, and parked vehicles.
“James, please keep me posted,” Beth said.
“I surely will,” the sheriff replied, flipping off the radio.
In the end, the drive to Dr. Yates’s clinic took almost two hours, and Shane spent most of the drive creeping along dark highways, zigzagging around obstacles. Thankfully, Sheriff Cooley had run out of things to ramble about and sat quietly for most of the drive. When they finally drove past the Waffle House and came in sight of the clinic, he saw a single small flashlight burning in the window.
“I think he’s there,” Shane said, pulling into the parking lot. “Let’s hope it’s not too late.”
15
Beth couldn’t bring herself to sit by the radio and wait for an update. It was too much. From the sound of it, Jodi was severely hurt, and though Shane hadn’t said it explicitly, it sounded like she might not survive. Beth managed to contain herself for about fifteen minutes, hunched in the padded chair beside the small table in her bedroom, her gaze fixed on the red radio light. Owen, Corbin, Violet, and Kaylee were all crowded around the bedroom door, Kaylee fidgeting endlessly and finally demanding to be picked up by Violet.
“Is Mommy still alive?” she said, as Violet hoisted her up on her hip.
The matter-of-fact way she said it made Beth shudder. “Yes, your mommy is alive, dear. Don’t even think like that. Daddy’s taking her to the doctor right now.”
“Don’t worry about it, Kaylee,” Violet said, patting Kaylee on the back. “Mom is going to be just fine. Be thankful they found her.”
“Okay,” Beth said, finally, rising from the chair. She could stand it no longer. “Okay, that’s it. I can’t sit here any longer twiddling thumbs. I’m going.”
“What do you mean, ‘You’re going?’” Owen said. “Grandma, you can’t go. They’re all the way on the south side of Macon.”
They were blocking the door, and as she moved toward them, they held their ground.
“Grandma, you can’t leave us here alone,” Violet said.
“You’ll be fine,” she replied. “I want to meet Shane at the doctor’s office. Jodi needs me.”
She put one arm against Owen’s shoulder, the other against Corbin’s, and pushed until they gave way. Then she squeezed past Violet and moved into the hall.
“Your mother will do better if I’m there,” she said. “I know where they’re going. I won’t have any trouble finding the clinic.”
“It won’t be safe out there at night,” Violet said. Ruby was at her side, and the dog seemed to sense something had upset her master. She kept looking up at Violet then looking around, as if trying to find the source of the tension. “You can’t go alone, Grandma. You know what kind of people are lurking in the dark.”
Beth stopped at a small coat closet near the foyer. “You’re right, of course.” She opened the closet and reached inside, grabbing her shotgun out of its place in the corner. She had moved it there from her bedroom to make it more accessible from other parts of the house. “I’ll make sure I’m ready for the bad people, Violet. Does that make you feel better?”
“Not, not really.”
She turned and looked at the crowd gathering in the hall behind her. Violet was holding Kaylee, rocking her from side to side, as the little girl scowled her disapproval at Grammy. Owen had his arms crossed, a disapproving frown on his face. Only Corbin seemed unconcerned, standing quietly to one side.
“Fine, if it makes you all feel better, I won’t go by myself,” Beth said.
“Good,” Owen said, breathing a sigh of relief.
“Corbin, you’re coming with me.”
Owen started, relief giving way to slack-jawed disbelief. “Why him?” After he said it, he winced, as if he regretted the words. “I mean, shouldn’t it be me? I’m your grandson, after all.”
“And that’s exactly why I want you to stay here with your siblings,” Beth said. “Plus, Corbin is a better shot than you…than any of us. I’ll feel safer letting him handle the shotgun.”
She held the shotgun out to Corbin, and he strode forward and took it from her, bowing his head as if he were a samurai receiving a sacred sword from a powerful daimyo. He really did have a deadly serious side to him, didn’t he? In this instance, Beth thought it was a good thing.
“Grammy, don’t let bad guys get you,” Kaylee said. She seemed on the verge of crying.
“Remember when those bad guys attacked us, Kaylee?” Beth said. “Our friend Corbin here helped kill them, and that’s what he’ll do again if more bad guys try to get us.”
“That’s right,” Corbin said. “I’m not afraid of anyone.”
This seemed to dry up Kaylee’s tears. It was the only comfort Beth had to give.
“You guys stay by the radio in my bedroom,” she said, directing this particularly at Owen. “If you hear from Shane or James, let them know I’m coming.”
“I know what Dad will say,” Owen replied. “He’ll say, ‘Why did you let Grandma leave the house?’”
“Tell him Grandma didn’t give you a choice,” Beth said, giving Owen a wink. “Tell him Grandma does what she wants, especially where her daughter is concerned.”
She went into the living room, where Mike was currently sleeping on the couch. After rousing him, she explained the situation. A bleary-eyed and ashen-faced Mike sat up, rubbing his eyes and coughing.
“You sure about this, Mom? You want to drive the pimp-mobile through town? It won’t be easy to navigate the streets.”
“I’m sure I can manage,” she replied. “Kindly give me the key, please. I’ll return your nice car in one piece, I promise.”
Mike ran his fingers through his patchy hair, pushing the long strands off his forehead. “Well, I know better than to argue with you. When you set your mind to something, God himself couldn’t talk you out of it.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Beth said.
Mike dug into his pants pocket and produced the car key, tossing it at her. “Drive carefully. She’s as big as a yacht and takes up the whole lane.”
“I know how to drive a big car,” Beth said, catching the key in midair. “I used to cruise all over Macon on the weekends in Mitch’s Chevelle back in the late 70s. Let’s go, Corbin.”
Owen and Violet both seemed like they were on the verge of saying more, Violet’s lower lip working up and down, as if revving up for some big argument. Beth didn’t let it come to that. She told Owen to look after the others and quickly excused herself, moving outside. Corbin followed, shutting the front door before any of the others could follow.
As they drove away, Beth saw Owen, Violet, and Kaylee crowded around the small window, and she felt worried about leaving them at the house. Mike was the only adult, and he was in no condition to take care of them. Still, it couldn’t be helped. Jodi needed her mother right now.
“Thanks for letting me come along,” Corbin said, the shotgun held between his knees. “I’ll make sure we’re safe.”
“Of course,” Beth replied. She was impressed with the size of the LTD. The steering wheel had an amazing circumference that made it a bit unwieldy, and the hood in front of her seemed to stretch for miles as she drove down the street.
“I didn’t know if you entirely liked me,” Corbin said, after a moment, “or trusted me.”
“I’m still getting to know you,” Beth replied. “You did save us from those awful Eddies boys. You have that in your favor.”
“I can be trusted. I’ll prove it to you.”
See that you do, young man, she thought. See that you do.
Beth knew the way to Dr. Yates’s office, and she headed
there by what she assumed would be the safest and fastest route, but she was surprised at how many vehicles had been abandoned on the major roads. The highway was the worst. She’d heard descriptions from Shane but seeing dead and crashed cars spread over every lane was rather shocking. More than anything she’d seen yet, this looked like the end of civilization to her.
It took entirely too long to get to the clinic. The big LTD had trouble getting around some of the roadblocks. In a few places, she was forced to exit the highway and find another on-ramp. People lurked in the darkness. She saw makeshift camps full of listless families. Stranded people, she assumed, who were waiting for someone to come along and help them. Would they still be there, their camps turned into permanent settlements, in a month? A year? A decade?
They finally reached the exit on Interstate 75 and passed the Waffle House next to Dr. Yates’s little clinic. There were no other cars in the parking lot, no sign of Shane’s Volkswagen, but a small flashlight was shining inside the office. Beth parked near the door and asked Corbin to check it out. He hopped out, carrying the shotgun, and tried the front door of the office but found it locked. He pressed his face to the window then shrugged and came back to the car.
“Seems to be closed for the night,” he said. “They left a flashlight on—an accident, I guess—but I don’t see anyone in there.”
“I suppose that’s not too surprising,” Beth said, putting the car in reverse. “Maybe the doctor’s at home. Let’s go and find out.”
Dr. Yates lived just behind the clinic, a nice little two-story house with a flower garden in front. A private drive led from the back of the parking lot to the garage, but as Beth crept down the driveway, she saw no sign of Shane’s van. And now she had no way to communicate with him because she’d left the shortwave radio at the house.
Okay, maybe this wasn’t my best idea, she thought, pulling up next to the garage door.
Candlelight flickered in the living room window. Beth thought she saw someone moving in the light, probably drawn by the bone-trembling sound of the LTD’s engine. She killed the engine and got out of the car, approaching the front door. She heard Corbin following, the slamming of his door followed by the clank of the shotgun.
Surviving The End (Book 2): Fallen World Page 13
