Gone to Ground

by Cheryl Taylor

  Many of the children, especially the younger ones, were crying. So much had happened to them in the past months that the stress of possibly losing the one home they’d found was too much. Christina and Alysa started weaving their way through the throng, looking for Nick and Ryan. In spite of the chill wind, and her soaked clothes, Christina broke out in a sweat, fearing that the fire alarm would be called off before she could find the boys and the four could sneak away. In the distance sirens wailed, drawing closer, announcing the arrival of the APZ’s fire brigade.

  Just as Christina was sure she would never find her brothers, a hand pulled at her sopping shirt from the left. Looking back and down she saw Nick, with Ryan close behind. An explosive breath she hadn’t realized she was holding blew out of her lungs. She grabbed Nick by the arm, and, with Alysa and Ryan close behind, headed for the northernmost flank of the crowd.

  Once they broke free of the majority of the onlookers, Christina stopped, Alysa, Nick and Ryan all crowding around her.

  “What’s up Christy?” Nick asked, looking up into Christina’s face, his brown hair plastered to his head. Drops of water fell from his chin and nose. The rain, however, already seemed to be letting up and the celestial pyrotechnics were moving off to the east.

  “We’re getting out of here now, guys.” Christina watched the looks of surprise cross the boys’ faces. They looked at each other and that indefinable communication passed between them. Then they looked back at Christina, expressions of trust shining from their faces.

  “It makes sense,” Ryan said. “Where do we go from here?”

  “We’ve got to get our packs, then head north, toward the barrier. It’s getting darker, and if the power is out all over we should be able to get past the sentries without being seen.”

  Alysa suddenly chimed in. “Four is too many to head toward the dumpsters where the packs are. I’ll tell you what. You take the boys up this street. Stick to the shadows where you can. I’ll go with you for a block, then circle back and get the backpacks and meet you with them.”

  “Are you sure?” Christina asked, looking dubiously toward the building where the firemen were busily moving around like a colony of ants. “Four packs are a lot to carry. I think I should come with you. That way we can each carry two. The boys can wait for us somewhere hidden a few blocks away.”

  Alysa pondered Christina’s statement for a moment, then nodded assent, recognizing the wisdom of having two people to carry the loaded packs.

  “Fine, but lets get going. They’re going to start counting heads soon, if they haven’t already, and we need to be out of sight before they start looking for us.”

  The four children slowly slipped further away from the crowd, waiting until the growing dusk masked them from view, then turned and ran steadily northward, toward the boundary of the APZ, and freedom.

  20

  In the end it took O’Reilly four days before he was ready to head out on his next scavenging foray. The morning following his telling Magg

  ie about his father’s death she came to him and told him about her nightmare and her concern that they were not prepared for any type of medical emergency. He had to admit she was right.

  He also had to point out that neither of them was exactly trained as a doctor, so being prepared might be the least of their worries. But Maggie was adamant. They needed medical supplies, antibiotics, other medicines. As far as he was concerned, too many medical supplies in the hands of untrained novices could be as dangerous as the diseases and injuries themselves. Maybe more so. He might have experience in sewing up injuries on cattle and horses, as well as diagnosing and treating many bovine illnesses, but the idea of trying to jab one of those needles into Maggie or Lindy made his stomach clench.

  Nonetheless Maggie was right in one aspect. If something happened, an injury or infection, antibiotics could be the difference between life and death. And, the only place to get antibiotics, or any other medications they might need, was a pharmacy. Maggie and O’Reilly discussed their options, O’Reilly hating the necessity that would drive him back into danger.

  “The way I see it there are three, no four, options,” O’Reilly stated as he was working beside Maggie in the garden the next morning while Mark was doing his schoolwork. “I could head south to Prescott or Chino Valley, west to Wikieup or Kingman, or north to Ashfork, Williams, or maybe Seligman.”

  “What’s the fourth option?” Maggie asked as she attacked a particularly stubborn weed.

  “I could just make the rounds of all the camps and ranches in the area and collect whatever I can find in the medicine cabinets.” O’Reilly stood up and stretched his back, then leaned on his digging stick and watched Maggie aggressively assail the large horehound that had begun to grow among the tomatoes.

  He caught himself admiring how the muscles of her back and arms moved under the t-shirt and how her golden, honey blond hair stuck to the nape of her neck. Mentally shaking himself he bent his head back to his row in the garden before Maggie caught him looking at her. He was relatively certain that she wouldn’t appreciate being scrutinized. Lately there seemed to be a definite softening in their relationship. She wasn’t quite as ready with a quick comeback when he showed too much authority for her taste. He didn’t want to damage this strengthening friendship just for the sake of a momentary look, nice as that look might be.

  “I know going to town would be more dangerous than the camps, but I’m not sure you’d find what we need just by going through houses,” Maggie said, breathing hard after her exertions while pulling up the stubborn plant. “Who the heck invented horehound anyway? Whoever it was had a real sick sense of humor.” She tossed the plant off to the side of the garden.

  “Actually, there are some benefits to horehound,” O’Reilly answered, preferring a discussion about the noxious weed to continued talk about venturing into town.

  “Nuh, uh. There’s no way that smelly, prickly thing could be used, except as a torture device for obsessive compulsive gardeners.” Maggie shook her head, thick braid flapping back and forth, from shoulder to shoulder.

  “Really,” O’Reilly grinned at her disgusted expression. “It can be made into a tea or syrup for sore throats. Supposed to be real soothing too.” He paused for a second, thinking. “You know we actually might do better if we found information on natural remedies. Things we can make using plants and minerals found right around here. After all, even if we score big at a pharmacy, that stuff’ll eventually all go out of date and we’ll be stuck either having to go into the APZ, or trying to hit a supply train.”

  “Oh, come on. You mean treating diseases with weeds? Give me some penicillin any day,” Maggie looked at him in disbelief.

  “And exactly where do you think penicillin came from? Moldy bread, that’s where.” O’Reilly’s grin became even more pronounced.

  “No honestly, some of those old remedies really worked. Sure some were a bunch of hooey. I’m not suggesting we tie garlic to Mark’s feet to treat the whooping cough, though some people swear by it, but other remedies were unquestionably effective,” O’Reilly said thoughtfully as he finagled some errant bunch grass shoots out from under a squash plant. “I’m not saying we shouldn’t get some more modern medicines, but we need to find a book or something on herbal stuff as well. It can’t hurt.”

  Maggie looked askance at another horehound pushing it’s way up between two zucchini plants and then looked back at O’Reilly. “If I get sick and you try and dose me with that damned plant, you’ll see what hurts.”

  “Come on, city girl, we need to explore all our options. This is a new world, but some of the old remedies may be the way to go. The fact is we can’t afford to ignore anything that may help us survive out here.” O’Reilly grew serious. “We’re not far off from the original pioneers, moving out into unpopulated land, too far away from help to be able to count on it. I’ll go into Wikieup, and gather what I can, but we also need to actively cultivate our other options.”

  “O
kay, I’ll take the damned weeds. Find me a book when you go into Wikieup or one of the camps,” Maggie gave in. “Or, maybe the Internet is back up and I’ll check some things out there.”

  “Wait, Internet? What do you mean Internet?” The change in O’Reilly from easy going and joking around, to intense, focused Enforcer was sudden and obviously disturbed Maggie. She turned to look at him, a slight puzzled frown creasing the skin between her eyebrows.

  “I have my laptop here. I haven’t been using it much, only for journaling when we first got here, that type of thing. Writing down my thoughts. I tried to go on line shortly after getting here, through my satellite broadband card, but I couldn’t get logged on. Probably because no one was manning the servers or power was down. I probably haven’t had it out since you got here. You might not have noticed, but you do keep the days pretty busy.” Maggie smiled up at O’Reilly. “Maybe some things are working again, though. I’ll try tomorrow. I’ll...

  “No!” O’Reilly’s voice snapped out, surprising Maggie, her face registering her shock at his abruptness.

  “What...?”

  “Maggie, promise me that you won’t try and access the web with your computer! Not from here. It’s important. Promise me!”

  “Okay, but what gives?” Maggie was growing more confused and suspicious at O’Reilly’s insistence.

  “You know that all computers have their own IP addresses and the authorities have been able to track those for quite a few years. Well, when I left they were setting up a system by which all computers were registered, and any unregistered computers or IP addresses attempting to access the net would trigger an immediate alert and GPS tracer. They’ve got it set up so no one can jump onto someone else’s wireless connection and get by unnoticed.

  “Remember, they currently want to monitor the information getting out to the public. They also want to make sure that ghosts don’t manage to hack into information about supply trains. The best way to do this is to make sure that the only people with net access are using registered items, and that any unregistered items immediately trigger alarms.” Every muscle in O’Reilly’s body was vibrating with tension. “If you attempt to access the net, they’ll immediately start trying to get a fix on your location and we’ll have them on our doorstep before you know it.”

  The enormity of the mistake that she’d nearly made clearly rocked Maggie. Her eyes went blank and a tremor seemed to pass through her body, as though the ninety degree day had suddenly turned frigid. O’Reilly saw her legs begin to buckle and grabbed her arms, pulling her closer, holding her upright.

  “I didn’t know. I didn’t... I could have gotten us all killed. I could have...” her voice quivered in a way that he’d never heard, not even when he’d surprised them at the table that first night. Her oval face had taken on a grayish tinge under her summer tan.

  “You didn’t, though. You know now and we’re safe. Mark and Lindy are safe.” His voice was gentle, consoling. He was surprised at how much her distress affected him. He’d grown to think of Maggie as strong, indomitable, and to see her so visibly shaken rocked him to the core.

  “Oh, God. If you hadn’t said something I’d have tried to log on one of these days just to see if the web was back running again. I’d have given us all away.”

  “I didn’t realize you had a computer or I would have told you long ago. I didn’t think about it. I’m sorry. There’s so many things going on in the world. I just didn’t think that was important.”

  Suddenly O’Reilly realized he was still holding Maggie and at the same time, Maggie apparently realized that she was being held. They abruptly stepped back from each other. A red flush washed across Maggie’s face and O’Reilly suddenly became obsessed with rooting out every last little bit of bear grass from under his row of plants.

  Studying the ground as though he could find all the answers in the shape of the emerging squash leaves - a modern day sooth sayer - he remained silent, letting Maggie regain control of herself. Laying down her stick, Maggie went to the edge of the garden and took a long drink out of the canteen she’d left sitting in the shade there. She stood a few minutes, watching the chickens poking around in the barnyard. Then, having apparently regained her composure, she set the canteen down and returned to O’Reilly in the middle of the garden, picked up her digging stick and resumed work on her row.

  “I guess that means there’s little choice in the matter. We have to get the things we need from town.” Maggie started, voice controlled. O’Reilly was impressed all over again how quickly she could come back after such a shock. A minute ago she looked to be on the verge of complete collapse, and now she was talking as calmly as if they were discussing a simple run into town before the virus struck.

  “You’re right.” O’Reilly said, resigned. “If it’s ever going to happen it needs to be now, before the towns are all destroyed. Wikieup was quite a way down the list of priorities, but who knows what’s changed since I left. It will take a few days to get everything ready. Eagle Camp is on the way to Wikieup, so I think I’ll take the pack train that far, leave them in the corrals there, and only take one or two horses the rest of the way. If there are any Enforcers or seekers being used, they’ll be closer to the town and a large group of horses would be easier to spot.”

  “Okay, just tell me what you need us to do before you go.”

  “Make a list of things you want me to look for. We’ll have to let Mark know he won’t be able go with me on this trip. It would be too dangerous to take him that close into town.”

  “I agree. He’ll be disappointed, but that’s the way it is.” Maggie’s cool reserve stabbed O’Reillly to the bone. He wanted to ask her what they could do to bring their relationship back to the way it was, but didn’t know how. Finally, he decided to just leave it alone and hope that things would mend themselves in their own time.

  “Fine, I’ll plan on leaving in three days. I should be able to get everything ready by then. I figure that the trip itself should take four or five days to get there and back.”

  Maggie simply nodded and continued to work down her row of vegetables, steadfastly refusing to look at O’Reilly. Sighing to himself, he bent back to his work and in silence the two finished weeding the garden.

  21

  The night air was hot and humid

  . The monsoons were coming and the last few days had been increasingly uncomfortable. Maggie caught herself being more sensitive, more likely to snap at Mark for minor irritations, less able to laugh off mistakes. Mark had asked her finally what was wrong, and she’d passed it off as a result of the humid air and the growing heat, but alone at night, trying to find a comfortable spot on her old lumpy mattress, she had to admit the truth to herself.

  Damn, she thought, denial is a so much more enjoyable state to live in. No responsibilities, no changes, no dangers. The truth was that her mistake with the computer had shook her world to the roots. She found doubts of herself flooding in, making her question her ability to keep Mark and herself safe in this strange place, but if that was the only shock she would have quickly regained her assurance.

  No, the greatest blow to her confidence was how she felt when O’Reilly had taken her arms and held her while she was reeling from the news. It was less than a year since Mike’s death. She didn’t want to feel anything for another man. But there was no denying that while O’Reilly was holding her arms, supporting her, she badly wanted him to pull her to his chest and shield her from the world. When he released her, she felt lost, and then she hated herself for feeling that way.

  During the intervening three days the two of them had been able to reestablish some of their previous easy relationship, but it had been strained, as though they were both trying too hard. Mark and Lindy had both picked up on the increased tension. Mark was quiet, but looked back and forth between the two of them with a confused expression. Lindy made her dissatisfaction more obvious by becoming clingy and whiny, crying if Maggie left her sight, and wearing Maggie’s already
frayed nerves to a state of disintegration.

  When O’Reilly left for Eagle Camp and Wikieup this morning, Maggie thought that she’d be able to put him out of her mind and regain some of her composure. However, she’d found herself even more on edge. Repeatedly during the day she’d caught herself on the verge of tears, but being the only adult left with two children she didn’t have time to break down. When evening came, she was more than ready to send the kids to bed and have some time to herself.

  The small house felt claustrophobic, so she wandered out into the small flat area in front, tilting her face up hoping to catch some sort of breeze to cool her overheated skin. She could hear thunder nearby again, for the second night in a row, and from where she stood, she could see lightning backlighting the edges of the canyon. The green smell of rain wafted down on the breeze and she hoped that they would finally get the moisture that the pastures were craving.

  More thunder and more flashes of light. A drop of rain pelted her upturned face, running down her right cheek, leaving a trail that felt like a tear. The breeze picked up, carrying with it more raindrops that bathed her face in coolness. She thought about O’Reilly and wondered if he’d made it to Eagle Camp, or if he was camping out in the pastures, watching the rain coming closer. He hadn’t taken a tent - they didn’t have one - so things could get uncomfortable if the storm was a violent one. He’d know what to do, though. He always knew what to do out here. She envied that assurance and wondered if she would ever be able to fit into this life she’d chosen as well as he did. Probably not, but hopefully she’d adapt to the point that she wouldn’t get them killed.