by JK Franks
“So, what happened?” Scott asked feeling even worse now. Jack looked over at his Cajun friend.
“Bartos promised Todd he would keep an eye on her while you were gone, so he went by to check on her. She was on the floor unconscious. When she came to, she was in excruciating pain. He loaded her up and took her to the after-hours clinic just outside of town, but he ran into some problems. So, he took her on to the hospital. She was suffering badly.”
“Oh my God,” Scott’s mind struggled with this new information. “Why did I not go in when I dropped him off?” he muttered to himself. “Why did I even let Todd go with me?” He was looking to the preacher now.
Jack tried to soothe him. “I was waiting inside for Todd, and Bartos was with Liz the entire time. No way either of you could have known. It's just how things go.” Scott thought of the beautiful woman he had met just days earlier. How full of life she was. How full of love she and Todd both were.
“Lord…,” he sighed, then pulled himself together. “How long will she be there? Do they have any idea?”
Jack put his hand on Scott’s arm. “You don’t understand.”
Bartos looked up, eyes watering, “She needs dialysis, but the hospital can’t do that anymore. Her blood is poisoning her, and her systems are shutting down.” He took a long pause, “They’ve told them to prepare for the worst. That’s what they’re doing now.”
Tears flowed freely down Scott’s cheeks. He could not believe this, could not register it. Kaylie put her arm around her uncle’s shoulder protectively. “I've got fuel,” he volunteered. “We could…we could get the backup generators running.”
“Scott,” the preacher said, “listen. This is just that damnable disease she has, taking its final toll. Yes, continuing treatments might further delay it, but not by much. They both knew this was coming, even before the lights went out. We all love her; we love them both. But we have to accept it as God’s will, and to do so with as much grace as Todd and Liz. Listen, they’re choosing how to write their final chapter. That’s why we’re here and not there. When the good Lord mercifully lets her pass, we will be there for Todd. Not until then. We already said our goodbyes. This is their time."
. . .
Day 16
The funeral was two days later. It was small and sad despite what Liz had wanted. Preacher Jack delivered just enough scripture mixed with comforting words, ribald humor and stories about Liz and Todd to keep them smiling. Scott had set up a discreet wireless speaker and played the Miles Davis songs from his MP3 player. Solo had laid down beside the open grave in apparent understanding that someone valuable had been lost. Kaylie, who did not know Liz, held onto Todd as though he were her father.
Ultimately, Scott had found he couldn’t completely stay away from the hospital…not say goodbye. He had made it there late the previous night to see them both. He had taken a freshly made thermos of hot coffee and food. Even though Liz was on morphine, she had smiled and grasped weakly for his hand. He and Todd barely spoke but sat for a long time. As Liz seemed to weaken, Scott retreated to the waiting area with Kaylie.
With the service over, Preacher Jack and Kaylie took Todd away while Scott and Bartos filled the grave by hand. They had managed to get a casket, apparently now a luxury, but no one had been available to embalm or process the body. Looking out over the field of graves, Scott took in the many unmarked rectangles of fresh earth.
Despite Jack’s words, Scott blamed himself for Todd not being there when Liz had most needed him. For Todd not being able to enjoy her last good day. Bartos saw his new friend staring out at the graves on all sides and put his hand on Scott’s shoulder. “I would tell you not to blame yourself. But you wouldn't listen. Just know that neither of them would want that.” The little man shoveled another spade of dirt into the hole. “They were—they are—a perfect couple,” he continued. “High school sweethearts who spent most of their lives in love with each other. Their love was legendary. Who else finds a soulmate like that on their first try? I’m not sure they ever even dated anyone else.”
Scott nodded, “It was obvious just watching them together.”
Bartos looked up. “Point is, dude, life and death still happen. It’s a cycle, and I believe…I believe they’ll be together again one day. This shit we’re in now didn’t cause this any more than you did. Her disease and this universe don't give two fucks about you and I, but life, life is a cycle, it has a start, and it has an end. Every day has a night. That’s why we treasure it. Those that are lucky enough to find a partner to travel through it with, are doubly blessed. Todd will never be alone. He will always have Liz and their love inside. Deep down, I think he may even be glad Liz doesn’t have to suffer what the world will yet become.” Burying the spade into the mound of dirt, Bartos met Scott’s eyes. “I will miss Liz, she was a very special woman, but she could not have survived this.” He sighed. “Let it go, Scott, find a way.”
Scott wiped his eyes. He would find a way, but it would not be soon. He looked at the surprisingly poetic man and smiled. “Thank you, Bartos.” He took his shovel to the earth. “By the way, what is your first name? Or last name?”
“It’s Bartos,” his friend replied smiling, “Thought you knew that.” Grinning slightly, the little Cajun went back to digging.
Chapter Forty-Four
Scott had been stunned, was stunned, by the coldness, the vitriol in her voice. How had such a perfect day turned out so wrong? They had been working together on their new home, their dream home. He had been pulling up the carpet, and she had been cleaning out closets. They had brought loads of debris to the oversized dumpster just outside the porte-cochere. The other house still had not sold, and it was going to be a stretch for a while, but he knew they would manage. The contractors were coming Monday to get started on the renovations…their renovations.
Exhausted, but seemingly happy, they left for home. They were discussing what items could go to storage and what should be donated or trashed. Two people, one couple, living life. Then it had turned in an instant into this. For the life of him, he could not remember what words had set them on this darker path. Looking back now, he knew it wasn’t anything that had been said. His wife of four years just suddenly began talking about how miserable she was. If they had ever fought, maybe he would have been better prepared. Miserable? What in the hell was she talking about? The marriage had seemed idyllic. A lovely couple, people said. They both had good careers. It had been Scott’s first real grown-up relationship. He had never been good around girls; his first love ended awkwardly when his best friend, Gia, married someone else. She had never known how he felt about her.
That event had been far tougher to overcome than anyone knew. It had taken Scott years to even consider dating, much less anything more. Now this woman—his wife!—was saying goodbye. She had always said she was his, but at that moment, he knew better. In truth, he now understood she only loved herself, and would probably had never been honest with him. Scott had listened to his dad’s advice. He had been good to his wife. His parents had been married for almost forty-five years when his mom had suddenly passed away peacefully in her sleep.
Now this beautiful, sweet woman was telling him the hard truth: that she had never loved him. The marriage had been a mistake. He knew even before meeting her. He had wanted someone for his own, but perhaps he should have been more specific. Now his wife was saying she couldn’t stand even the touch of his hand or his cold lips on hers. Scott was sure she was playing a joke, some twisted game, to see if she could get the best of him. He could not fight back; he didn’t feel those ugly things toward her. No, he very much loved her, despite her coldness. This woman seemed to be a different person altogether; this was not his wife.
As he stopped at an intersection trying hard not to look at the woman spewing such hateful words beside him, she suddenly jumped out of the car. “I can’t stand to be around you one more second,” she cried, slamming the door. “Here,” she said, taking the ring off and
throwing it in the window. "I am done pretending; I’m done being your whore.”
“What is your problem?” he asked. “How have you ever been my whore?” What in the hell is going on with you tonight?” He was completely dumbfounded, or maybe blindsided was a better word. He felt as though he was outside his body looking in the car window as this drama unfolded. While the couple didn’t always get along, they never fought. It was beneath them, just not how they handled things.
She walked off into the darkening night without response. He did not understand…could not understand. Scott drove around, unsure of where to go or what to do. Although not a violent person, his rage was building… unfocused, undirected hatred. Anger at himself for being such a failure. Angela was beautiful, well-educated and successful. Both of their careers had been doing well. They had achieved a comfortable upper-middle-class existence. Trading up to a newer house and starting to talk about having children. From the outside, a perfect marriage. Now, he was letting the perfect marriage fall apart without even realizing it had problems.
Should he look for her? How would she get home? Why was he worrying about her? Maybe she was sick… was she bipolar or something? She certainly did not remind him of the woman he had married. The rage inside him grew.
Two days later she sat across from him amongst the boxes of her belongings. She was calmer but even colder. “I’m sorry, Scott, I love someone else…” She stood up, grabbed a box and quickly took it out to the already full car. The car he recognized. It belonged to Scott’s best friend, his only real friend, Jeff.
The divorce was mercifully swift. Apparently, Angela and Jeff had recently discovered they were expecting a child, although he later heard they had lost the baby. The couple’s assets were easily split as neither of them wanted either of the two houses or any keepsakes from the marriage. Everything had eventually been sold. Five weeks later, he bought the Jeep and a trailer and headed south with a few essentials. As he pulled into the garage of the family’s coastal cottage, he vowed never to return to Chicago. Scott had eventually managed to subdue some of the growing anger by turning it inward before it blossomed into full rage. He knew it would come out at some point; he feared for anyone around him when it did. Since that night, he had been unable or unwilling to trust anyone or allow himself to have friends, much less seek love. “What was love anyway? The ultimate trust...” See where that’s got me, he thought. “Fuck love, fuck trust….fuck me.”
Scott put the tumbler of scotch down by the flickering candle on the end table. Why was he reliving those times from so many years ago? He knew why. He knew it was because of Liz. Because he had accepted friends back into his life, with all the pain and problems that inevitably came with them. He hurt for Todd and felt helpless to do anything except revisit his own emotional loss. He had changed since that night, but he had not moved on. Some events fundamentally change you no matter what you do to try and outmaneuver the pain.
Kaylie was sleeping on the sofa, neither of them wanting to be alone tonight. Scott had found it impossible to sleep. He had spoken to Todd after the service. Todd was not the same man anymore either. The pain was etched across his hard face, but his mind had remained clear. He had pulled Scott away from the others. “You know when I asked you what you would do right now to make things better? For the community, I mean.” Scott nodded, remembering the conversation they had on the way to Tallahassee. Todd looked quickly around the room, “I need you to start doing it… Harris Springs needs you to do it.
“Tomorrow, go and talk to the others—the people in this room. I’ve already talked to Jack, Bartos and Deputy Warren. They’re ready to work with us…work with you. I wanted to try and help the town, not let it become like all those others we saw, but… I just can’t manage it right now. I can’t handle the mission…my compass is gone.”
Scott hurt for his friend, but this was way out of his comfort zone. “Todd…I’m the idea man… I’m okay with helping out, but—I’m no leader. Anyway, shouldn't that be up to the mayor or the sheriff or something?”
“You are a leader, Scott. And in time, you will know that. The mayor is lying in that field with a bullet lodged in her brain. The sheriff hasn’t been seen in days. No one here is going to step up because they have their hands full just surviving. No one is thinking strategically. Everyone assumes the government, or somebody will ride in and save them.” Todd’s voice was rising loud enough that others had begun taking notice. If we don't work together to save ourselves, then we’re no better than the millions of others who are paralyzed because they rely on someone else to provide for them. I can’t bury anyone else, Scott… I’m not strong enough to make those calls. You are.”
Scott had looked at Todd and asked, “What are you going to do?”
“I’m not sure,” he said before walking away. “May just go fishing.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Day 24
Todd had been gone well over a week. Scott had checked his house and the boat docks the day after the funeral. Some of his gear was missing, but the Donna Marie was still in her spot at the marina. His house also looked abandoned and lifeless. Bartos said Todd had probably taken his sailboat as it was missing from its normal spot. While Scott hadn’t known that Todd sailed, he realized he shouldn’t have been surprised. He was genuinely worried about his friend’s condition; he knew Todd was not in a good place, but hopefully, out on the familiar waters, he could begin to heal. Scott also had to admit that he still did not feel up to the task that Todd had assigned him. He felt he was barely able to take care of himself, and now he was responsible for his niece. The idea of taking on the task of trying to organize the entire community in this mess seemed impossible, and frankly, he still didn’t care too much for many of the other locals.
The preacher had asked Scott to meet him, and now they sat with a shared bottle of scotch while Jack laid it out for him. “Scott, try and understand that none of this is fair, not to you, not to Todd, and not to this town. You have every right to walk away from what Todd asked of you. No one could blame you. But hear me out first—most of the people around here are good people. Not unlike me, Todd and Bartos. You just happened to get to know us and not them.
“I know nearly everyone here, and the vast majority are worth saving. Yes, they’ve been ignoring the obvious, no, they didn’t prepare, but they’ve been conditioned to depend on others and trust their leaders. Most cannot understand that, just as much as the CME, it’s been the government that’s caused many of these problems. We need you, Scott. We need your wisdom, your anger and your courage. Harris Springs will not survive without you. You won’t be alone either. Between us, we can get these people motivated. They’re hard workers—well, most are—but the survivors’ll come to the front quickly enough. If we don’t give these people hope and a mission, all is lost.”
That was where it began: Scott reluctantly agreeing and Jack quickly pulling the team together. Jack, Kaylie, Bartos and Deputy Warren had been helpful with the initial organization. After a short first meeting at the sports bar, they came up with the basic plan. The first mission was pretty simple: muster all available resources before they were stolen or wasted. Then develop a plan to protect both the people who were helping and the resources they found. And finally, try and help feed those that were contributing to the community. Beyond that, they had to give everyone hope. In short, keep us safe, keep us fed and keep us human.
Scott had expected resistance from some of the townspeople as the plan became action, but he found he was being met with more apathy than anger. No one in any previous leadership position in the town had materialized during these initial phases. In fact, no one other than a few store owners came forward when they posted notices that stated plans to consolidate resource, including inventories. It seemed that none of the former politicians wanted to take on the responsibility or lead when it involved real work. That's what this was. Work. Not a popularity contest nor a power trip. In fact, no one in the small group ever
mentioned titles or anything remotely resembling political offices. What was essential was that shit got done and got done fast.
Their plan was rough, but step one required protection and a level of presumed legal authority where none existed. Deputy Warren had been sworn in as acting sheriff by an old retired judge who attended Jack’s church. He immediately declared martial law, which some supported, but many refused. The taste of anarchy in recent days had already whetted the appetite of some of the darker elements of the town.
From the first time the group met, they became a council to make decisions. Scott generally did not vote unless there was a tie or serious disagreement. He had gone back to the Catalyst documents, and albeit premature, he felt the foundation of a new system of government that it described was essential. Here in Harris Springs, on a very limited basis, it was already being put into practice.
He knew that the worst was still ahead of them. Much of the planning was secretive; made for the eventuality that good people would likely become increasingly desperate, and bad people would become a malignancy looking to take over. A paranoia existed in all the planning, and Bartos was the key element. His mind was devious, but his goals were never selfish. He was the one who could probably have gone off on his own and survived just fine. He didn’t need them as they did him. Somehow in this crisis, he had risen to be more than he once was.
Bartos had assembled and managed two small teams to handle the basic recovery operation. They moved cars off roads, draining fuel into a large tanker truck. This they hid in larger storage tanks buried in various spots. They also collected batteries and other useful items from the cars.
The other team focused on provisions: they would commandeer from hotels, schools, institutions and stores. The two teams soon combined and began working their way from house to house through the empty neighborhoods to see what they could find of value. Scott and Bartos set up many hidden caches. Scott was out every day on his bike looking for new locations for storage.
