by Connor Mccoy
“I need to take x-rays of her wrist, ribs, and face,” Glen continued. “I don’t know which one of you did this, but if it happens again and I’m still a prisoner in this town, I will kill the one who did. Do you understand? I have no problem killing a man who would rape and beat a woman, and this one is little more than a child.” He stopped to see if the men took his meaning, but all three stared at him blankly.
“What is wrong with you?” Glen heard his voice rise in anger. “Are you that far gone?”
“What you don’t realize, Doc,” Terror said, “is that we’ve seen far worse. Will her fractures heal without x-rays? If indeed she does have fractures?”
“They will heal,” he said, fuming. “But they’d heal better if I could be sure they were set correctly and cast.”
“You would cast her face?” Third Eye laughed. “I’d like to see that.”
“I’m talking about her ribs and her wrist,” Glen said. “They should be seen to.”
“What did she tell you about what happened to her?” Terror asked.
The change in subject confused Glen. What was Terror up to?
“Nothing. She told me nothing,” he said. “Not one word passed her lips.”
A fleeting look of relief passed over Terror’s face, which incensed Glen.
“Listen, I know you have the facilities and the power for me to take an x-ray. Why ask me to look at the girl and then block me from doing what needs to be done? It makes no sense.” Glen was beginning to think Terror had multiple personality disorder. He was clearly unhinged.
“Let me take care of the girl,” he shouted and then calmed himself. “Some of the injuries are clearly sexual in nature. It’s possible if there was a woman in the room she might let me tend to them. Can you arrange that?”
He felt as if he were talking to a wall. Terror clearly was not interested in the girl’s welfare beyond very basic healthcare and her desire to keep her mouth shut. Why even bother to call him in? And was it Terror who had inflicted those wounds? If so, he was a lot worse that Glen had thought. And if he was covering up for someone, well, that was bad too.
“Can you give her something to keep her from getting pregnant?” Terror asked.
“It depends on what you have in your pharmacy, but yes, I can if she wants me to do that.” Glen thought it would be a wise precaution but wouldn’t force the girl to take any medication if she didn’t want to do so.
Terror nodded to Third Eye, “Take him to the pharmacy. Let him take what he needs.” Then he turned to Boss Man, “Make sure she stays here until the doctor gets back,” Terror said.
Third Eye gestured to the door and Glen followed him out into the sunshine. It was a five-block walk and Glen kept his eyes open. Instead of marveling at the technology that kept the town running, he looked for possible escape routes.
In the pharmacy, he quickly found what he needed and then used his memory of the supply shelves to pocket a few other useful items, all the while making Third Eye think he couldn’t find what he was looking for. Third Eye, for his part, was rummaging through the stock in the main store and not paying any attention to Glen. Glen was thoughtful about his choices. He didn’t have Christian to worry about. He’d either be on his way to recovery or dead by now. Glen hoped it was recovery, but in either case it was no longer his concern.
He thought about what he might need while imprisoned in a closet, and what would be useful if he ever got out of this place. Practicality played a part as well. If he couldn’t slip it in his pocket, it was out of the question and clearly if it had to be refrigerated, there was no point in taking it. Painkillers, antibiotics, anti-bacterial cream, wound care supplies, and upset stomach medicine all were useful things that he’d thrown in a bag the first time he was in here. That bag was either with Mia and the others or had been found and the items returned.
He finally told Third Eye he’d found what he needed, and they headed back to Terror’s house. Again, Glen kept his eyes open. He noticed a railroad track and wondered if that would be a viable escape route. Then he wondered about the train cars. What had happened to the locomotives when their chips had burned out? And what about the steam trains? Were they viable? Was anyone using them to clear the tracks and move people and things across the country?
They reached the house and Glen pulled his attention back to the task at hand. He’d have to be on his toes to convince Terror to let him treat the girl. The inconsistencies in Terror’s personality bothered Glen. Why bring Glen into it all if he wasn’t going to be allowed to treat her injuries? Why spare Glen, but allow others to be killed? There was a disconnect in logic that bothered Glen. He didn’t like what he was seeing.
Terror was gone when they got back, and in his place was an older woman, possibly in her sixties. She was sitting in the armchair, knitting, but she put it aside and stood when Glen and Third Eye entered.
“Hello,” the older woman said, “you must be the doctor. Shall we get started?”
Glen followed her down the hall. He was thinking he’d already started, but he didn’t say anything. There was no point in antagonizing people who were helping him.
The young woman was back in the room, sitting on the bed in a hospital gown. She’d had a bath, her hair was wet and dripping down her back, and the smell of soap wafted off her. The older woman clucked her tongue, took the towel from the foot of the bed and scrunched the girl’s wet hair with it.
“What’s your name?” Glen asked. “I can’t just call you ‘Woman’.”
“You can call her Anna,” The older woman said. “Isn’t that right, Anna?”
Anna nodded.
“And what may I call you?” he asked the older woman.
“Mrs. Smith,” she said.
“Okay, Anna, I have some questions for you. Is it okay if Mrs. Smith stays with you for this part?” he asked.
Anna nodded. This was going to be a long question and answer question session if she only was going to communicate in nods.
As it turned out, Anna would not open her mouth. Not to answer a question and not to let him look inside. He had to pry one hand from around the other wrist. She moaned and grit her teeth as he felt the bone as gently as he could and still couldn’t tell anything. She would not let him perform a gynecological exam. She clutched her gown and clenched her knees together, shaking her head violently.
“I could make you feel more comfortable, and avoid infection…” he petered out. She was shaking her head violently.
“Give me the medicine and the instructions,” Mrs. Smith said. “She may let me do what she won’t let you do.”
“I won’t know what she needs until I can look and see what the damage is,” Glen said. “But I can give you some general advice that won’t do damage regardless of what’s wrong.” Glen’s frustration was growing. It was clear that Anna had been abused by someone, and how was he supposed to treat her? He asked Mrs. Smith for warm water and wrapped Anna’s wrist in a cast. He supported it until it hardened.
Then he gave Anna the morning-after pill packet and explained how to use it. She nodded and popped the pills from the foil pack as Mrs. Smith handed her a glass of water.
“You can get dressed now,” he said. “I’d still really like to x-ray that wrist and your face, but there’s no guarantee I’ll get permission.”
“See if you can get her to change her mind about me,” he said to Mrs. Smith as he left the room. “She really should be thoroughly examined.”
But he knew he was wasting his breath. That girl never was going to let him examine her.
As they led him back to his closet on the other side of Main Street, Glen noticed the sunlight was turning that funny color that it did sometimes before a storm. He wondered if it was going to be a bad one.
The rain awakened Mia. It beat steadily on her head and she might have wondered what was going on if she hadn’t felt it running down her face. She picked up her head and looked around. She still was in the spot where she had collapsed ea
rlier. All the backpacks were piled nearby, but neither Sally nor Christian were anywhere to be seen. She rummaged through their things until she found the bivy tent. She set it up where it had some protection from overhanging branches.
She pulled all the packs inside and laid back down on the tent floor. Her clothes were soaked and she knew she should change, but she needed to rest. Her face hurt and she didn’t feel right. Maybe it was a reaction to the morphine and the epinephrine. She didn’t know. She wanted to sleep, but the cut on her cheek made it impossible to find a comfortable position. Putting weight on her cheek made it hurt like hell, but when she tried the other side the lack of pressure brought another kind of pain. She didn’t dare try any kind of painkiller, because Lord knows she didn’t want to go through that again.
Rain was pinging off the tent and the wind had started to pick up. The temperature was dropping and she hoped Christian and Sally were safe. She wriggled out of her wet clothes and pulled on dry things, adding a jacket for warmth. She wondered if the tent could blow away with her in it.
With nothing to do to take her mind off her thoughts the worry escalated. And she found herself rocking where she sat, her breathing shallow. “Stop this right now,” she said aloud. “There’s no point working yourself into a lather, you’ll be no use to anyone.”
At that moment, the tent flap unzipped and a dripping Sally came in. Her hair was not only dripping but looked like it had been styled with a blender. Mia scooted back to give her some room in the cramped tent.
“Who were you talking to?” Sally asked. “I thought Christian must be in here with you, which made no sense because the plan was for me to get back first.”
“I was just talking to myself,” Mia said. “As you do, you know, when you’re alone and you don’t know where your companions are.”
“You were out cold,” Sally said, “and your breathing and heartbeat were steady. So, we decided to do a recon and see if we were close to any buildings. I didn’t find any, but I have a feeling I was walking in circles. I’ve got to change.”
Sally pulled off her clothes and added them to Mia’s pile of soggy things. Then she pulled on dry clothes and pulled the sleeping bag off her pack and unzipped it. “Come on,” she said, “snuggle up. We need to stay warm. The wind out there was wicked. I’m glad you thought to get the bivy up.”
“The rain woke me up,” Mia said. “It seemed like the logical thing to do. When are we expecting Christian back?”
“I think he was probably thirty minutes farther out than I was. So, I don’t know, maybe another thirty minutes?” Sally said.
But night fell and Christian didn’t return. Mia felt the old anxiety rising in her chest and had to remind herself to breathe. The wind buffeted the tent, making it vibrate around them in a way that unsettled Mia. Sally drew the sleeping bag closer around them and started humming lullabies. Mia knew she was doing it to calm her. She didn’t know if she should be offended for being treated like a child, or grateful that she had a companion who noticed her discomfort and tried to help.
“Do you remember that guy from chemistry that you had a crush on?” Mia asked.
“Yeah,” Sally said, “what made you think of him?”
It was the rain that made me think of him,” Mia said. “The last time I saw him he was standing in the rain outside the university library, staring up at the third floor window.”
“I used to study on the third floor,” Sally said. “In the window alcove. Do you think he was looking at me?”
“I didn’t know if you were there or not that day, but yeah, I think he was pining after you.”
“How funny,” Sally said, “I wish I’d known. I haven’t thought of him for a long time.”
“Me neither,” Mia said. “I wonder if he is still alive?”
“Oh. I hope so. I’d hate to think I’d missed my chance completely,” Sally said. “Did you have a crush at college?”
“Yeah, but it was an associate professor. I didn’t have a chance in hell with him. He was surrounded by graduate students.”
“What was he a professor of?” Sally asked. “Do you remember?”
“Anthropology,” Mia sighed. “Such a lovely class. We were studying the different ways cultures are put together. The female polygamous cultures of Nepal were my favorite, until I learned that the women didn’t really have a choice. Marry one brother and you marry them all.”
“Why do they do that?” Sally asked.
“Shortage of land. That way the boys all stay in one house and the land doesn’t have to be divided. And no one knows whose son is whose, so they just grow up with however many fathers.”
“I don’t think I’d like that,” Sally said. “I think it would be better to have many wives and one husband. That way you wouldn’t have to spend too much time with the guy, and you’d always have women around to help with chores and to talk to. You could compare your husband’s performance.”
“I don’t think the Nepalese live like that anymore anyway,” Mia said. “The modern world has caught up with them.”
“That’s too bad,” Sally said. “It’s the end of a way of life. The death of a culture.”
“I suppose so,” Mia said, “but I can’t help thinking it’s better for the women. Can you imagine having to have sex with the older brother all the time, when it was the middle or younger brother who you were in love with? Ugh.”
“Are you hungry?” Sally asked. “I have some travel bread in my pack.”
They shared a loaf of travel bread and some water, and then snuggled together under the sleeping bag for warmth. They fell asleep hoping Christian was okay.
It still was raining when Mia awoke early the next morning. It barely was light out, and she wondered what had woken her. Well, worried more than she wondered, if the truth be told. She really should still be asleep.
“Come on, you two,” came Christian’s voice from outside the tent. “Time to get up.”
“It’s still storming. Can’t we wait until it dries up outside?” Mia said. “I’m cold.”
Sally stirred and mumbled.
“It’s not storming,” Christian said, “just raining. The wind has stopped.”
“But it’s still wet out there,” Mia moaned, “and Sally is asleep.”
“I’m awake,” Sally mumbled, audibly this time. “Is that you, Christian?”
“Yes, it’s me. Get up, you lazy creatures. It’s time to get moving,” he said.
“It’s barely even light,” Sally said. “Come in and lie down for a while. You’ve been out all night. You need to rest.”
“I’m all wet,” he said. “I don’t think you’d like me crawling into bed with you, but if you insist.” He started to unzip the tent fly.
“No,” Mia cried. “No wet men in the tent. I’ve used up all my dry clothes.” She groaned and untangled herself from the sleeping bag. “This better be good.” She pulled on her still damp shoes.
“Don’t go, Mia,” Sally pleaded. “If you go, I have to go, and I’m not awake yet.”
“Come on, Sal,” Christian said. “I promise you it will be worth it.”
“These are my only dry clothes too,” Sally whined. “If I come out there, they won’t be dry anymore.”
“It won’t matter,” Christian said, “because we’ll be able to dry them. Come on, you lazy sods, I’ve found us a house.”
“Really?” Mia asked. “And no one is living there?” She pulled on her boots in earnest now.
“I spent all afternoon watching it,” Christian said. “And I spent the night inside it. I’m fairly certain no one is living there. And it’s only a couple of miles from the town, but far enough from the road to be overlooked.”
“Okay,” Sally said. “I’m coming. But I’d better be able to dry my clothes when we get there.”
Find out what happens in part two! Available Now!
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