The Day After Never - Insurrection (Book 5)

by Russell Blake

  “Interesting. What do you know about his death?”

  “It was a tragedy. Jeb heard that he was poisoned out at Satan’s Waiting Room – that’s what I call the General’s place.”

  “The General’s place?”

  “It’s a bar one of the town residents threw together to cater to the basest instincts of the sinners in our midst,” she said with a frown.

  “Seems like every town has one,” Lucas confirmed.

  “When the council banned alcohol sales within the city limits, it practically handed the old bootlegger a fortune.”

  “Can’t blame a man for trying. My grandfather used to make white lightning.”

  “Oh, I have nothing against alcohol per se. It’s more the effect it has on the weak of moral character, which seems like a lot of us these days.”

  “Like the doctor?”

  “He was struggling, as are we all. I try not to judge. He’d seen so much suffering…”

  “He was poisoned at the bar, then,” Lucas said, steering the topic back to the part that interested him. The doctor’s failings might have been interesting gossip, but they weren’t really helping Lucas understand what he’d walked into.

  “That’s the story.”

  “Wonder where they got the poison.”

  “Oh, there are dozens of toxic plants growing in the wild if you know where to look. And it’s not like everything disappeared after the collapse. There’s still plenty of cyanide and arsenic and the like around in pesticides and such. Things like that are pretty common in a rural community like Astoria to deal with the critters.”

  “Fair point. You have any idea who might have wanted to kill him?”

  She shook her head. “None. He was a godsend for the community. A trained healer. Perhaps with his flaws, but better than nothing, and he was willing to tend to us in exchange for whatever we could offer. Now we’re left to ourselves. Nobody wins in that case. Nobody.”

  “Did he get along with the tent people?”

  “He got along with everyone. He was just as likely to treat one of them for free as to charge for it. He was a compassionate man and will be missed. We’re all the poorer for his passing. I don’t understand how anyone could do such a thing. Really. After all we’ve been through, now we have to go and kill each other? Seems like nature did a pretty thorough job of it already, doesn’t it?”

  Lucas couldn’t disagree. “How old is your daughter?”

  “Just turned seventeen. She’s helping out at our school right now. A lot of folks have to work until sundown, either fishing, making things, or tending to crops, so she watches some of the kids.”

  “That’s a good age,” Lucas observed. “Future looks bright when you’re young.”

  “Maybe it used to, but in this environment, everyone’s old before their time. We’re just very lucky that Jeb and I didn’t catch the virus, and that Rosemary somehow didn’t either. Our son wasn’t so lucky. They quarantined him when he was exposed, just like most toward the end. I can’t tell you how that makes a mother feel, to see her son taken, knowing you’ll never see him again.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve seen enough sorrow to last ten lifetimes.”

  Mary threw him a sidelong look. “What about you? What’s your story? You’re able-bodied and not hard to look at under that hat. You have someone back home?”

  Lucas thought about Sierra and his little adopted family. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Please. I told you my name. None of that ma’am stuff out of you,” she scolded.

  “Force of habit. I’m from Texas.”

  She smiled to herself. “I’d never have guessed.”

  They continued along their route, and Mary waved at a man in bib overalls by one of the wooden homes. The fellow returned the gesture, and Mary was leaning into Lucas to say something when he sniffed at the air and pointed to a column of black smoke rising from their right.

  “That normal?” he asked.

  Her expression was all the answer he needed as she cupped her hands and cried out, “Fire! Fire, everyone!”

  Mary took off at a run toward the blaze on the next street, and Lucas trailed her as she continued to sound the alarm. They reached the source of the smoke, and she gasped at the sight of flames licking from the windows of a run-down house.

  “Oh, my…that’s the radio station!” she exclaimed.

  A male voice screamed faintly from inside. “Help!”

  Lucas handed Mary his rifle and hat and ran for the front porch. He pounded up the steps and tried the front door, which was locked. Throwing his shoulder against it did no good, and after two tries, he drew his Kimber, stood to the side, and fired at the deadbolt four times.

  The big slugs tore through the wood, weakening the frame, and he kicked the door hard. It sprang open, the lock shattered, and smoke billowed from within. Lucas twisted toward the street and took three deep breaths, ridding his system of as much CO2 as possible, and then ducked inside, keeping his head below the level of the smoke.

  “Help! I’m in here!” the same voice called out. Lucas edged along the hall to the stairs and, with a glance upward, took them three at a time. The smoke was as thick as fog on the second floor, and his muscles burned from exertion as he followed the voice toward the rear of the house.

  He came to an open door and spotted Grant, the mayor’s assistant, trying to get the window open, the air relatively clear in the room. Lucas moved quickly to the glass and gave it a hard rap with the butt of his handgun. The heavy leaded glass shattered, and fresh air streamed in.

  “What happened?” Lucas asked after gulping in some of the precious oxygen.

  “I don’t know. Must be an electrical fire from a short or something.”

  A sharp crack sounded from below, and Lucas looked out the window. “Place is going up like kindling,” he said. “That sounded like a beam.”

  “What do we do?”

  “Where’s the radio?”

  “Downstairs.”

  Lucas cursed. “Stairs might not last. I’d say we go out through here while we can.”

  “What? We’re on the second story!”

  “Yep.” Lucas kicked out the rest of the glass and leaned out of the window to peer down. The drop was at least fifteen feet – far enough to hurt an ankle or break a bone. He returned his attention to the room as it filled with smoke and felt the heavy curtains that framed the window. Satisfied with their thickness, he pulled them down, the rod crashing against the wood floor, and unsheathed his knife.

  “What are you going to do?” Grant asked.

  “Get us out of here in one piece.” Lucas plunged the knife through the fabric and pulled it along the curtain until he’d bisected it, and then ripped it from the curtain rod and replaced the knife in the scabbard. “Drag that chair over here,” he said, pointing at a clunky wooden high back chair with a red velvet cushion.

  Grant was coughing by the time he got the chair to the window. Lucas had fashioned a knot and lashed the two lengths of curtain together, and proceeded to tie one end to the chair base.

  “How’s that going to help?” Grant asked. Lucas didn’t answer, focused on his task as smoke burned his eyes. Another explosion sounded from downstairs, and the floor vibrated from the impact of something structural giving way and falling, and then he was wedging the chair against the base of the window and lowering the length of curtain through the gap.

  “You go first. I’ll hold this. Just drop once you’re at the end of it. You don’t have to be that close to the ground.”

  Grant pushed past him and climbed awkwardly out the window, clinging to the curtain with one hand. The chair groaned as the fabric took his weight, and he lowered himself slowly, curtain slipping between his fingers and thighs as he held on for dear life.

  Another crash from beneath Lucas echoed through the house, and flames began rising through the floorboards around him. “Hurry up,” he yelled at Grant, who was near the end of the length, his feet no more than two yards fr
om the ground. Grant looked up at him and then twisted to see where he was going to land before releasing the curtain and dropping like a rock.

  Lucas didn’t wait to see how he’d fared, and instead heaved himself through the window, the air behind him now unbreathable. He tested the curtain with one hand and then released the sill and slid down the length, the chair clattering against the inside wall as it slammed into it and dragged toward the opening. Lucas felt the curtain give as he was halfway down, and dropped just as the chair back appeared above him. He landed in a roll, the rocky dirt knocking the wind out of him, and lay staring up at the blazing house now fully engulfed in flames. He caught his breath and Mary appeared above him, her face creased with concern.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  Lucas forced himself to sit up and nodded before checking on Grant.

  “You in one piece?” Lucas asked him.

  “Yeah. I think so. Just shaken up, and my ankle feels a little twisted.” Grant paused. “Thanks. You saved my life.”

  “You have another radio in town?” Lucas asked, ignoring the gratitude.

  Mary shook her head. “No. This is our only one.”

  They watched the fire consume the house as a bell rang in the distance, signaling that the fire brigade was on its way. Lucas’s shoulders sagged, the loss of the radio another in a string of disasters that had plagued them ever since embarking on their ill-advised adventure. He grunted and slowly rose, and Mary handed him back his M4 and hat, a frown hardening her mouth.

  “At least it’s far enough from the next houses so it shouldn’t spread,” she said. “We had one a year ago that took out a whole block.”

  Grant got to his feet, favoring his right leg, and shook his head. “This is a disaster.”

  Lucas took a final look at the house, and then regarded Mary. “Let’s get that salve to Ruby before anything else happens.” He addressed Grant again. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said as a group of men arrived at a run from around the corner. “Don’t suppose there’s anything left of the radio, though.”

  “Probably not.”

  “Thanks again for the help.”

  Lucas checked the time and eyed Mary. “Lead the way.”

  Chapter 19

  High clouds glowed like colored smoke as the sun sank into the sea, its final rays barely lighting the way to the hospital, and the streets darkened quickly as tendrils of fog rolled in from the bay. Lucas nodded a greeting to Sylvia, who brightened upon seeing Mary.

  “How is she?” he asked.

  “I’ve done what I can with moist towels to cool her off, but the fever’s dangerously high.”

  “Is she conscious?”

  “In and out.”

  Lucas pursed his lips grimly and led Mary down the hall to Ruby’s room. The air was crisp with the approach of night, but when they pushed through the door, they could see that she was on fire, sweat coursing down her face, her jaw clenched even in sleep. Mary moved to her side and examined the wound and then shook her head.

  “The salve should help some, but don’t expect a miracle,” she said, her voice hushed.

  “I know. Please do what you can. She’s…we’ve been through a lot together.”

  At the sound of Lucas’s voice, Ruby’s eyes opened and she sighed, the sound as pitiful as any he’d heard. Lucas approached her bed and managed a tight smile.

  “This is Mary. She’s the resident green thumb. Insisted on seeing to you in person,” he explained.

  “Can’t let a fellow traveler down, now, can I?” Mary asked, her tone deliberately upbeat.

  “You have ca…calendula?” Ruby whispered.

  Mary nodded. “Yes. We’ll swab the wound and swathe it with my special salve – I’d expect that to relieve some of the discomfort. I also brought some aspirin.”

  “You’re an angel,” Ruby said, and then her eyes fluttered closed, the exchange sapping what little energy she had.

  Mary went to work, frowning as she inspected the discharge on the bandage and the angry red swelling of the surrounding tissue. Five minutes later she’d done what she could, and she straightened and handed Lucas the jar of ointment.

  “Change the dressing more often – every four hours. And don’t be shy about the amount of salve you use. Better more than less,” she instructed. She looked around the room and spotted a steel pitcher with water in it. Mary poured a plastic cup three-quarters full and then removed three aspirin from the blister pack and returned to Ruby’s bedside.

  “Ruby,” Lucas said, “wake up.”

  Ruby groaned but didn’t open her eyes. Mary shook her gently, and she came to with an annoyed frown, her eyes unfocused. “What?” Ruby demanded.

  Mary opened her hand. “Aspirin.”

  Getting the older woman to swallow the pills was an ordeal, half the water trickling from the sides of her mouth as she did her best to comply with Mary’s urging, and by the time she’d taken all three, Lucas’s heart was heavy – he’d seen enough to know that Ruby wasn’t long for the world. Mary’s hooded eyes confirmed his take, and they moved back to the door with somber expressions.

  “Keep pouring water down her, and remember what I said about the bandage,” Mary advised. “I’ll remind Sylvia on the way out.”

  “That’s okay. I’m going to bunk here for the night. I’ll tend to her.”

  Mary studied Lucas’s haggard features. “No offense, but you look like you could use some rest almost as much as she can,” she said.

  “Maybe so, but I’m staying put.”

  Mary acquiesced. “I’ll still let Sylvia know to change the bandage. Just in case. And the moist towels can’t hurt.” She paused. “I don’t need to tell you that if she doesn’t get antibiotics soon…”

  “I know. Thanks again for doing what you can.”

  “I’ll stop by in the morning. Try to get some sleep.”

  “Will do.”

  Mary left, and Lucas could hear her instructing Sylvia, who Lucas presumed would also be staying the night if not replaced by someone else. When their footsteps had faded, he stood by Ruby’s bed for a long time, staring at her in the gloom, as though he might be able to turn the tide of her misfortune with the power of his mind. When he could barely make out the doorway in the darkness, he moved to a chair by the window and sat down heavily, the weight of the world on his shoulders. His friend was slipping away while he was powerless to be anything but a spectator to her decline.

  His stomach rumbled, but he ignored it. He had no appetite, even if his body was protesting. He sighed and closed his eyes, a band of tension tightening around his head from fatigue, and removed his hat and clutched it in his lap. The darkness in the room was now complete, and the only sounds those of Ruby’s labored breathing and the rustle of her body on the bed as she twitched in restive sleep.

  Chapter 20

  Lucas stirred and reached for his M4 automatically when the hospital room door creaked open on its rusting hinges. He had it at the ready when his vision sharpened in the daylight streaming through the far curtain and he made out the mayor, his assistant Grant, and the sheriff, all with deliberately neutral expressions.

  “Not going to need that,” Hayden said, eyeing the rifle.

  “Force of habit,” Lucas said, and snapped the safety back on before setting the weapon against the wall and pushing to his feet. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and cleared his throat, and then moved to Ruby, who was still unconscious, her face shining with perspiration in spite of the morning chill.

  Sylvia appeared in the doorway with more damp towels, and Lucas watched over Ruby as the nurse exchanged the one on her forehead for a fresh one.

  “Changed the dressing about three hours ago,” Lucas said, checking his watch. “About time again in a few.”

  Sylvia came over and held up a mercury-filled thermometer. “Let’s see how she’s doing,” she said, and then gently shook the older woman.

  Ruby cracke
d one eye open and moaned. “What?” she croaked.

  “Time to take your temperature, Ruby. Won’t be more than a few moments.”

  “Water…”

  “Right after we do this,” the nurse said firmly.

  “Please…”

  Lucas frowned. “Get it over with.”

  The nurse slipped the glass cylinder into Ruby’s mouth, and the men stood by wordlessly as seconds ticked by. When she removed it and took its reading, her frown spoke volumes. “A little better than last night, but not enough for my liking. And it could be because of the time of day.”

  Lucas filled a plastic hiker’s bottle with a straw poking the lid that Sylvia had scrounged while he’d been slumbering and handed it to her. Ruby drank the cool water greedily, and Lucas turned his attention to the men.

  “What brings you gents here?”

  “Wanted to have a word with you,” Grant said. “Maybe outside, so we don’t disturb your friend’s recovery any more than we already have.”

  Lucas nodded. “Lead the way. Need to wash up and grab a bite anyway.” He looked to Hayden, his eyes slits. “Don’t suppose you found the doc’s stash?”

  The sheriff didn’t answer, instead following the mayor and Grant out into the hall. Lucas trailed them with his M4, and Hayden gave it a dismissive glance. “You really aren’t going to need that in the city limits.”

  “Rather have it on the off chance you’re wrong, if you don’t mind. That mean you haven’t found the drugs?”

  “We’re working on it,” Hayden snapped, losing his struggle to keep his cool.

  “My friend there is out of runway. Best efforts aren’t going to save her.”

  “We’re doing everything we can,” Hayden said.

  “Gentlemen, obviously given the gravity of the situation, tempers could run hot,” Hubert interrupted. “May I suggest that we change the subject to something more constructive?”