Zach knew the song. “Secret Agent Man.” He sang along.
Lizzie grinned at Zach, “My dad’s new ringtone.” She shushed him and answered.
A few seconds later her voice raised, “You’re shitting me?” Her fingers raced to her hair, twisting and pulling, face like she’d seen a ghost.
“What’s wrong?” Zach asked.
“Find a doctor.” Lizzie begged Zach. “Or nurse or something. Please.”
Zach turned to the councilman. Miller flipped through his sheets. He withdrew one and pointed at a cell number next to a name and the letters: ARNP. Nev had her phone out and dialed the number.
At the grocery store the stench of rotting food greeted Mannie like a garbage dump. A wild looking stray dog ran out the door as he came in. He stocked a cooler with ice and pre-formed burgers. Flash frozen and stuck together they should keep for days. He grabbed a case of Coke Classic and some singles, laying them on top of the ice. He carried the case toward the car and added on some cans of soup and chili on the way.
Lugging the full cooler was too much. He got it out the door, but finally, set in on the grass outside. If he blew out his knee now, that was the end. He wouldn’t be driving anywhere. No sick leave in the apocalypse. Better learn to take it a bit easier, or I’m not going to get to reintroduce myself to my daughter. He emptied half the cooler and made two trips. Around the corner of the building a flash of color caught his eye.
A woman, her slim form clothed in strips of sparkly bright clothing, looked like a girl until he got close. When he got closer he recognized her, Mary. She had been a little crazy before the disease, a local artist always getting in trouble with the Sheriff for harassing people with her portrait paintings. Isabel complained her morning hair was like Medusa’s, but Mary’s really was. Her wild eyes matched her hair.
She ducked down behind a dumpster. “Hey, there. You hungry?” Mannie went back in the store and found jerky and a chocolate bar.
He tore the bag of jerky open with his teeth as he approached the dumpster. “Here’s some jerky.” He lay it down on the ground. Then he opened the chocolate. “You’ve got to be hungry.” He inched closer, holding out the candy.
She darted out grasping at the candy bar with her teeth gnashing. She missed the chocolate and bit his right hand. The candy bar fell to the pavement.
“Shit! Let go.” Her jaw clamped and chewed; saliva dripped, blood oozed. He tried to shake her off, but she wouldn’t let go.
He shoved at her forehead with his left hand. Her teeth ground down. Mannie cried out. He kneed her in the gut and hit her hard with the heel of his hand.
Mary grunted and her jaw released.
He shoved her away. She fell to the ground gasping for air. Blood ran from her mouth. “Jesus!”
She got up on her knees and came toward him. He turned and ran.
Mannie jumped in the Jeep and twisted the key; it slipped in his bloody fingers. “Damn.”
He glanced in the rear view mirror. She had stopped to rip apart the beef jerky with her bloody teeth. He locked the doors and clambered between the seats for the first aid kit.
Was she rabid or just crazy from the end of the world? There had been reports of rabid dogs a month ago. Did I survive the plague only to get rabies? He wadded up gauze and shoved it on the gaping hole in his hand. It soaked with his red blood in seconds. He wrapped tape tight around the gauze to stop the bleeding.
Everything’s going to be fine. Mannie fought to bring his breathing back under control. He peeled off more gauze and wiped blood from his fingers and keys. He started the engine and popped the Jeep into gear one-handed. The tires spun in the gravel. He accelerated toward the hospital. “Cool it, Mario.” He eased off on the gas. He wanted to get there in one piece.
When he pulled into the hospital emergency bay he cradled his cell phone in his bloody bandages and hit redial.
Lizzie answered. “Hey, we’re in Seattle already, how are you?”
“Lizzie!” His voice came out a growl. “I’m hurt. Bit by some crazy lady and I think she might have rabies.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“Hell, no. I’m freaked out. I’m at the hospital, but it’s deserted. I need to know what to do and I don’t have access to the Internet. I was hoping you could help.”
Lizzie said something cryptic about doing him one better and hung up. Mannie tucked the phone back in his pocket and limped like a wounded animal into the ER. To top everything off he had twisted his knee during his escape from Crazy Mary’s vicious teeth.
He sat down in the waiting room with the first aid kit he’d brought with him. At least he knew where those supplies were. He stripped off the tape and bloody gauze. He opened one of the antiseptic wipes and swabbed at the jagged gashes. Human bites were worse than animals. He had better clean it.
His cell buzzed. He answered it, holding it carefully with his left hand. “Del Rio Texas Emergency Room.”
Lizzie laughed, “My dad’s got a sense of humor. There’s a nurse here.”
“Thanks.” How the hell did she find a nurse?
A brusque male voice came on the line, “You’re at the hospital?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve been bit by a dog?”
“No. A dog-lady. A woman. Wild woman. Survivor, but I was trying to feed her. She bit me hard enough I could use my hand to make her a set of dentures.”
“And what make you think she’s rabid?” The nurse asked, skepticism in his voice.
“There were a spate of cases a month or so ago. Real dogs. The woman was aggressive. Salivating. Reminded me of a dog. I don’t think I should take any chances.”
“Well, even if she has contracted rabies, human to human transmission is unlikely. There isn’t usually enough virus in human saliva. But you’re right, you need to get the vaccine. How big is Del Rio?”
Mannie chuckled, “Not very.”
“Odds are there isn’t any vaccine. But you can check. You’ll need to get into the dispensary.”
“And where might that be?”
“Relatively central.”
Mannie hustled to the elevator. The map outside said the pharmacy was B1. “Headed there.”
“Once you’re inside, there should be a refrigerated cabinet. Look for a multi-pack, taped or rubber-banded.”
The elevator moved. At least power hadn’t gone out.
Mannie found the dispensary. “Okay.” The doors were locked so he slid the phone into his pocket and smashed a potted plant through the glass window. He gingerly put his hand through and opened the door. “I’m in. What are the meds?”
“RabAvert or Imovax.”
Mannie flipped through the meds in the refrigerator. “No. Nothing like that. Recommendations?”
“What’s the nearest big city?”
“San Antonio.”
“They’ll have vaccine. I’ll see if I can reach someone there and have your daughter let you know which hospital to go to.”
19
THE ROAD ROLLED BY UNDERNEATH Mannie. The trip to San Antonio had long ago ceased to fascinate him; nothing changed—same flatlands, rocks and sagebrush.
Past, present, future all mingled in his mind. Baby Elizabeth, Afghanistan, the darkness, Isabel and the brighter days. And now baby Elizabeth was grown-up Lizzie. And if he could live long enough he would see her, talk to her, hold her. If she wanted.
Mannie hadn’t prayed since he was a kid. Getting over the addictions had been a challenge without a belief in a higher power. His choices and their consequences were his and his alone. He hadn’t been able to ‘Let go, let God.’ But now he prayed: Please, if there is a higher power out there, let me see my daughter. Let me ask for forgiveness. Please.
The road flew by. His head ached from the road glare. Near San Antonio he pulled over to check his phone. A text from Lizzie. Military hospital. Theyll find you. “What the hell?” He tried Lizzie, but a message said, “Network busy.”
He drove o
n. When he crossed over Loop 410, the ring road, an ambulance with lights flashing and a camouflaged truck approached. Mannie slowed to a stop as they blocked the road in front of him. A small squad of armed men, a few middle-aged with ill-fitting uniforms got out of the back of the truck.
Mannie got out of the jeep and walked to the truck.
A creased, tan-faced Captain stepped down from the driver’s side and saluted. “Manuel Guerrero? Lieutenant, U.S. Army Reserves?” His uniform ID’d him as Wiser.
Mannie answered the salute. “Yes. I suppose.”
“You need a rabies vaccine, correct?” Wiser demanded.
“Yes. Does everyone entering San Antonio get this reaction?”
A doctor came around the ambulance. She looked all business. “We ensure infected people don’t enter the city. If you’re coming in, you must be quarantined until we can verify your system is clean.” She slipped on rubber gloves and a mask over her face.
“I don’t want to come into San Antonio,” Mannie said. “I’m heading north to meet my daughter in Salt Lake City.”
“That could be useful to us, Lieutenant,” the Captain said.
“What could?” Mannie asked. The use of his rank made him uncomfortable, as if he were being called to active duty by that word alone.
“Command is trying to get intel on various parts of the country,” the Captain said, as the doctor raised her eyebrow.
“What has that got to do with me?”
“There has been limited communication with Utah,” he continued. “We had contact with National Guard at Dugway Proving Ground. But then we lost them.”
“Captain Wiser. Look. I am not in the Army anymore. I’m going to get my daughter. Nothing else. ” Mannie adjusted his posture to attention and faced the officer. “They sent you with the vaccine?” I don’t like this game, but I’ll play it. Lizzie is counting on me.
Wiser nodded to the Doctor.
She asked Mannie a few questions, checked his vitals, and rebandaged his wound. “Nice job on the wound care.” Then she gave him the first dose of rabies vaccine.
“Here’s the remainder.” She handed him two packets with vials shrink-wrapped inside each. “You need to keep it cold, but not frozen. You’ll need two more injections, seven days and then 21 days later. Can you handle self-injections?”
Mannie nodded. “If I need to.”
Wiser pulled one of the vials from Mannie’s hands. “This is expensive stuff. Are you sure you can keep it at the right temperature for 28 days?” He handed the vial back to the doctor.
The doctor glared at Wiser, but accepted it, twisting on her heel and returning to the ambulance. The driver started the engine and drove away.
Mannie’s teeth clamped together. It was these kind of games, this kind of 'old boy network' that had him hating the military. Power corrupts. But this was the only game in town. I play; you give me answers. “I’ll see what’s happening in Utah, Captain. What’s going on nationally?”
“Not much out of Washington. Nothing from the president. Or the cabinet. A few senators and representatives have checked in. No one has invoked the presidential line of succession yet. Here in San Antonio we are the law and the government.”
“Martial Law.”
Wiser nodded, “Most survivors are military or former military. It makes sense, until things get stable. Here are contacts for the information.” He handed him a piece of paper with phone numbers and e-mails. “Good luck, Lieutenant.” The driver saluted him as he got back in the truck.
Mannie returned a perfect, forceful soldier’s salute and tucked the paper in his wallet with the other numbers. He stared at the truck as it went away. “I guess fading away was out of the question,” he muttered as he climbed back into Rubi.
In Sonora, city of a thousand single-wides, Mannie made a pit stop to give his knee a little stretch. There was a text from Lizzie. He called up to report in and got voice mail.
“Hey. It’s Dad.” He wandered as he talked, breaking into some calf raises and partial squats. “I’m doing fine. Probably about an hour from San Angelo. Gonna call Jess, give her some warning. Thanks for the help this morning. Maybe you can help me remember to give myself another shot in seven days. Need to figure out what day it is. Talk to you soon. I’ll call when I get to Jess.” He hit end call; then he pulled the slip of paper with Jess’ number from his pocket and dialed.
“Hello?” The voice had a hint of the southern softness.
“Jess? It’s Mannie. Lizzie’s dad.” A flash of lightning appeared off to the east under the dark blanketed sky. Thunderstorms were coming.
“Thanks for coming to get me.” She sounded hesitant.
“No problem.”
“Where are you?”
“In Sonora. An hour away, I think.”
“You’ll be in time for dinner.”
“That’d be great. How do I find you?”
“Call back when you get in town. I’ve been sleeping at the Motel 6. I’m at Central High School with some survivors, but I’ll meet you at the motel.
He ended the call and continued his stretches. The only time he ever did the damn exercises the physical therapist had taught him was after the aches started. He climbed back into the Jeep stiff and tired of driving. He rolled through town on 277 as it twisted and turned. It was desolate here before the end of days, scrub pines bordered the road, outcrops of low stone jutted out of the bleak desert. Every few miles a large sign proclaimed some cattle farmer’s domain—Broadwell Ranch, B & D Acres, Deer Creek Ranch. Sometimes there was a fancy stone gate with its cattle grate. Red and yellow strata showed where they’d cut the road straight through a hill. He drove past boarded up buildings, roadside stores, an empty strip club. Too bad the Jeep didn’t come with an autopilot; this country was going to put him to sleep. He opened another Coke.
San Angelo was a thriving metropolis comparatively; someone had whitewashed a billboard of a rodeo with ‘Survivors Welcome! Follow the signs to Central High’ painted in broad red strokes.
He stopped the Jeep under the sign and hit redial for Jess.
She picked up and told him how to get to the Motel 6.
He found it. A pretty girl with a cowboy hat in hand detached from the late afternoon shade of the building and walked toward him.
He pulled into the shade, the warmth of the day still oppressive for November. He pulled his stiff body from the cab and hopped down; shaking his leg and knee out. He put his right foot up on the tire and rubbed around the knee.
“Hi, Mister Guerrero.” She put her hat on her head. Her cloudy grey eyes held a touch of sadness that made her more beautiful.
“Jess? Call me Mannie. Or Manuel.” He stuck his hand out.
She looked at it for a second. “How’s your hand doing.” It was an excuse, he realized. This soon after the plague, shaking hands with strangers seemed risky.
He pulled it back. “Doctor cleaned it up outside San Antonio. Good to have somebody who knows what they’re doing…”
She nodded. “You hungry?”
“Not too much, yet.” He bent his gimpy leg a couple more times.” I could use a walk.”
“A walk sounds good. I can take you over to the school and introduce you around.” She started ahead of him and then slowed down. “I remember meeting Lizzie in grade school. We were inseparable. Lizzie thought she loved horses.” Jess told him the story of how Lizzie’s first real encounter with a horse had not gone well.
Mannie nodded, listening. It seemed like a peace offering. Jess was giving him something about his daughter he didn’t have, a memory. Or perhaps it was a warning—just because Lizzie liked the idea of a dad, didn’t mean she would like the real thing. They walked in silence for a while.
After a couple blocks Jess said, “I missed her when my family moved down here.”
Mannie nodded again. “I miss her, too.”
The school looked like any other high school in America, faded Homecoming Dance signs, white patches of p
aint to cover graffiti, and an awful lot of blue and orange—school colors.
The people Mannie met seemed haggard, but pleasant. Jess introduced him to Tom, the baker. He handed her fresh baked rolls.
“How’s San Antone?” Tom asked when he heard where Mannie had been.
“Seem to have things under control. Lots of military folks. Martial law.”
Tom nodded. “Yep. Times like these. A bit of discipline keeps things together.”
Mannie smiled, wondering if people really needed to be under control.
They walked back to the Motel 6 as the sun set. Jess heated up a large can of beef stew and the rolls. It was nice to see people sharing in a time of crisis. He had seen enough of neighbors turning against neighbors in Afghanistan.
The bread was melt-in-your-mouth tasty and Mannie ate like he hadn’t eaten in a month. Having people around to talk to was something he didn’t realize he missed. “Any idea how many people have come into town?” He sopped up the last of the stew with another chunk of bread.
“They’ve got a count going; 792 was the last number I saw.”
“But nobody you know?”
“Oh, I know some of them. A couple of the jocks and cheerleadery types. Nobody I liked. When I found out Lizzie was alive, then Zach and Nev…” She sniffed a little. “I was kind of jealous. When Lizzie phoned to say she was sending you, I was packing a bag before I hung up the phone.”
Mannie stirred his coffee. The light outside had disappeared except for the street lamps shining through the curtains. Neither of them had bothered to get up and turn on the lights. “I’d given up on seeing Elizabeth.” His voice was soft and he could feel his throat tightening. “I messed things up pretty bad. The PTSD and the alcohol led to drugs…” He shook his head. “I wasn’t myself. Took me years to get back to figuring out who I was. By then I’d burned my bridges. When I got set up down here, I tried to call once. Somebody named Doug answered. Said he’d tell Lizzie. That was all I had in me. Figured she was better off.”
ALL IS SILENCE Page 15
