Valley of Reckoning
Page 14
Anger flushed his face as he thought of all those who lay dead and covered with blankets. They shouldn’t have been in this battle. They had no business fighting against the ruthless thugs of Bobby’s gang. Hell, they were lawyers and businessmen, young kids, waitresses and bankers. They weren’t trained soldiers, but this world forced them to become so. The event had forced them to pick up guns and fight for their survival against the thugs and criminals that would try and take advantage of them; who would try to take what little they possessed. No law to stop them, no Army, Navy, or Marines to fight for them. Just everyday people that were struggling in a life that was nothing but struggle and hardship. It was enough to want to make him scream in frustration and rage.
Chapter Nineteen
Beth worked long into the afternoon. Cleaning, sanitizing, and laying fresh bedding for the prisoners. She wished there was more that she could give them for their withdrawals besides chicken broth and ginger tea. It was decided after a lengthy discussion between her, Jill, Mary Anne, and Doc that the medicine they needed was something that the compound couldn’t spare. They would have to suffer through their illness, withdrawing, cold turkey. It wasn’t that they didn’t have the medication that would help; they did. But they couldn’t use it on the prisoners. If they did, it would be taking it away from their community. A tough decision, as it was human nature to want to help to alleviate suffering; but in the end it was a decision they all made together, right or wrong, they would adhere to it.
Weariness nagged at her mind, and her hip screamed with burning pain. She knew she had been pushing herself too hard. It had only been three weeks since her surgery. Doc told her she could put weight on her leg, but to go easy. Easy was not part of her make-up and the work with the sick prisoners demanded that she dig in and get things done.
The lodging in the barn was not an ideal set up. The wooden floors had soaked up urine, vomit, diarrhea, and God knew what else. It was a breeding ground for bacterial infections. But they had no other place to house them, so she made do.
One prisoner particularly worried her, a young man named Devon. He looked to be barely twenty and was severely underweight. It was evident from the needle marks on his inner arms, between his toes, on his stomach and neck; he had been using drugs, heavily. His body bore open, weeping sores that led her to wonder about what diseases he carried. Could he possibly have AIDS? And if so, bleach would eradicate it from the surfaces? With the wooden floors, she highly doubted she would be able to get rid of it completely. If it was AIDS, like she suspected, then he was already dead. But should she quarantine him from the others or leave him be? She’d have to talk with Mary Anne and Doc about it. To be on the safe side, she told Tanya and Jamie that they were not to go in his stall or work with him in any capacity. They had neither the proper personal protective equipment for this type of infectious disease, nor the training.
She’d sent them out for dinner over an hour ago. They both had worked alongside her with grim determination the entire afternoon. They were troopers; not having to be asked but instead just jumping right in and doing what was needed. Jamie had made her laugh several times through the afternoon with his comical antics and silly jokes. She found herself liking the boy a lot. Through the midst of raunchy smells that gagged them, handling gross and soiled bedding, cleaning up vomit, spoon feeding the ill, fetching fresh bleach water, and listening to the moans of the sick, he’d kept a smile on his face the entire time. She didn’t know how he had managed it.
Shaking her head with a tired sigh, she looked bleakly at the faces of the prisoners. Hard, cold eyes stared back at her. Those that were sick lay on blankets with hay bedding underneath. She’d found buckets for them to vomit in and made them comfortable. Rusty stood at the ready in the doorway, gun at hip level. If one of them, sick or well, made a move toward her, she knew he would not hesitate to shoot. With one last glance at the seven sick men, she made her way out of the barn and into the fresh air. Three sets of hands would not be enough. She headed to the infirmary to talk with Doc about getting more help and about what to do with Devon. With the hollow, empty look in his eyes, she figured he wouldn’t last too much longer. No amount of care and medicine would help that young man.
∞
Sarah lifted the coffee carafe and set it on the table. She winced as her shoulder zinged, an electric pain shooting down through her chest. She didn’t care. It drove her crazy not helping. She couldn’t stand one more minute of inactivity. Mary Anne stood at the stove, stirring a large pot of chicken and dumplings. The table was laid with fresh bread and butter, and strawberry jam for people to help themselves. The community kitchen buzzed with activity, serving up dinner for those who worked all day at the compound and for those who spent their nights patrolling the perimeter. So much work to do every day kept and busy, and hungry. Her mind drifted. She set another pot of coffee on the stove to percolate.
The hand on her shoulder startled her, and instinctively she turned, her fist curling as she swung. A steady hand blocked her strike and grabbed her arm. She looked frightened and panicked. Looking up, she stared wildly into a set of hazel eyes.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, I just wanted to grab a fresh cup,” a man who looked to be about twenty-five said softly. Sarah bit the inside of her cheek and felt her face heat in embarrassment. An image of Gregory’s face, snarling, flitted across her mind and she willed it away. She needed to stop this. She needed to pull herself together and stop jumping at ghosts.
She took a step back. “I’m sorry.”
The man nodded and smiled. “No worries. We’re all on edge. I should have announced myself.”
With a grimace, Sarah nodded. He should have.
“I’m Billy,” the man said. He held out his hand.
She glanced down at it and then back up at him. “Nice to meet you. I’m Sarah.”
“Well, Sarah, I’m sorry again that I startled you.”
She watched as he grabbed for a cup on the shelf behind her and made his way over to the fresh pot she just put out. She watched him pour himself some coffee and she muttered to herself. “Not all men are monsters. Stop being a baby!”
But she knew, it would take a long time for this truth to sink in. The only men she trusted were Brian and Spike, they had both earned that trust.
With shaking hands, she went back to work brewing the coffee and helping Mary Anne at the stove. A soft shout from Beth alerted her to her presence.
“Hey, kiddo. I sure could use some coffee,” Beth said, then held up the empty carafe. Smiling, Sarah brought the fresh pot over and refilled it. She gazed worriedly at the dark circles shadowing Beth’s eyes and the faint lines around her mouth.
“You need to take a good, long break. You’re working too hard,” she scolded.
Beth smiled tiredly. “There’s so much to do. But Doc is getting me more help.”
Sarah hated that Beth helped with the prisoners, and she voiced her opinion loudly.
“Someone’s gotta do it. I’m trained and have the experience, so I guess I’m it,” Beth replied.
Mary Anne, overhearing their conversation, came over and sat beside Beth at the table, wiping her hands on her apron.
“We are grateful that Beth can help, Sarah. Although these men hurt a lot of people, it is still up to us to care for them, to feed them. Once my Roger gets back we will decide what to do with the prisoners, but until then it is up to us to make sure they are taken care of,” she scolded gently. Sarah nodded, and her eyes darkened with anger.
If this woman only knew what these men had done, what they were capable of doing. She might then change her mind about how much compassion she gave them. They were rabid animals, and in her mind, rabid animals needed to be put down. With a grunt, she got up and walked back into the kitchen, leaving Beth and Mary Anne staring after her. Anger boiled in her blood, and she wished Brian were here. If he were, he’d have no qualms about shooting every one of those prisoners, none whatsoever.
&nb
sp; ∞
Beth looked at Mary Anne and sighed sadly after the girl left. She could only imagine what Sarah went through at the hands of Bobby and his men. So yes, she could completely understand her anger, her outrage; she could also understand Mary Anne’s reasoning for doing so. To not help, to let them suffer would make her and Mary Anne no better than Bobby or his gang. Suddenly the bowl of chicken and dumplings in front of her didn’t look so appealing. With a gentle nudge, she pushed it away and instead sipped at the hot coffee. Digging in her pocket, she took out two Tylenol and popped them into her mouth. Her hip screamed with pain, and she rubbed it gently. This day could not end soon enough.
Mary Anne grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently.
“You’re tired. I’ve got a surprise for you.” With a smile, she helped her up. Beth looked at her questioningly.
“Come with me.”
Hand in hand, they walked through the compound to a small cottage next to the infirmary building. Mary Anne smiled and opened the door.
“I figure it’s time for you and Sarah to have a place of your own. It’s only got one small bedroom, but I got a few of the guys to move in a trundle bed for Sarah,” she said. She led Beth into the small living room. Beth laughed in delight.
“This is wonderful!” She turned and hugged the other woman tightly. To be able to move out of her small room in the infirmary, and into this with Sarah, made her rough day all the better. Sighing, she sat on the small, blue-flowered print couch and leaned back.
“I can’t thank you enough, Mary Anne.” She swallowed past the lump of joy in her throat.
Mary Anne laughed. “You don’t have to.”
After Mary Anne left, Beth sagged into the couch and closed her eyes. Having a space of her own, no matter how temporary, set her heart at ease. She loved this community and what Mary Anne and Roger created here. And if her heart hadn’t been set on the south, she could easily make a permanent home here. She knew Brian wanted to go home to Tennessee. He wanted to see his parents again. And she wanted to be with him. Sighing, she let herself drift into a soft sleep. Jessie curled up beside her and laid her head on her lap.
Chapter Twenty
The night unfolded around them. Sleep came quickly to the children in the group. The wounded were tended to and made comfortable. Brian nodded when Mel sat down beside him and sipped a cup of broth.
“Thank you.” She turned her face up toward him and smiled.
“For what?”
“For helping with the wounded and for taking care of me.” She nodded.
“It feels good, Brian. Feels good to know I am free to help without looking over my shoulder in fear. These people?” she said, waving her hand around at the group of refugees, “they’ve been through more than you can ever imagine. The conditions they have lived under, the abuse they have suffered. Life became hard enough after the event, but to go through this? No man or woman should ever suffer what Bobby and his gang did to them. It’s gonna take a long time for some of them to heal, some of them never will. Not physically, but emotionally and mentally. But these women, they were all someone’s wife, someone’s sister, someone’s mother or daughter! And they were all ripped from their families in the most vicious and brutal way. And the children, God, my heart screams out for them. I don’t know what happened to compassion, to kindness, but those kids ain’t seen that in a very long time.”
Brian nodded, and he swallowed past the sadness in his throat. “And you. Don’t forget what you’ve been through,” he murmured.
Mel shook her head. “I’ve been through nothing better or worse than any one of them. I’m a tough cookie. Yes, I have my nightmares and demons to battle. But ya know what? I won’t let those demons destroy me. I don’t want your pity,” she replied with a stubborn set to her jaw.
Brian smiled. “Pity is not what I’m giving you, compassion, yes.”
Mel shrugged her shoulders. “I do what I do. I’ve learned that the hard way.”
∞
Mitch moved in the tree line, waiting and watching. Peckerhead pecked the ground near his feet and he hissed at the rooster to get out of the way. He sucked in a deep breath when he saw Joseph turn his back on one of the prisoners, diverting his attention to another. He watched Jerry Miller use the diversion to pick up a water jug, look around then insert something into it.
Swearing, he exploded out of the darkness and threw himself at the man. “What did you just do?” he screamed. He pinned him to the ground.
The man, Jerry, struggled to get up. Joseph quickly moved beside him and drew his gun, pointing it at Jerry’s face. “What’s up? What’s happening?” he asked in confusion.
Mathew and Earl came running over. Quickly, they gathered up the prisoners and pushed them into a tight group. Brian and Spike walked over.
“This man put something in the water!” Mitch snarled as he drove a fist into Jerry’s face. The crack of his knuckles against flesh resounded in the air, and Jerry threw his arms up in defense.
Brian reached down and hauled the prisoner to his feet. Turning to Spike, he ordered him to search the prisoner.
Spike searched both pant pockets and found nothing. Moving to the upper shirt pocket, his fingers fell onto a small cellophane packet. Pulling it out, he held it up.
“What is this?” he growled menacingly.
“Nothing,” the Jerry mumbled. His eyes darted wildly looking for a way out.
Mel came walking over and opened the packet. With a dampened finger, she tasted one of the little crystals and then spat on the ground.
“It’s rat poison. We now know why you were so sick, Brian. This sick bastard has been poisoning our water supply!” she growled. Before anyone could stop her, she stepped up to Jerry, curled her hand into a fist and punched him in the face. A satisfied grin spread across her face when her fist connected, and his nose spurted and gushed blood.
“You’ve been poisoning us?” Brian hissed. The look in his eyes sent a wave of terror spiraling through Jerry’s gut.
“I gave you just enough to make you sick, not enough to kill you, I swear!” Jerry whispered, pleadingly.
He watched in horror as Brian lifted his gun from its holster.
“No! No man, don’t!” he screamed.
Brian grinned coldly and pulled the trigger. Spike, standing beside the prisoner, jumped when part of his head blew off and spat bits of flesh, bone, and brain out. He swore loudly and looked at Brian.
Brian shook his head and turned on his heels.
“Problem solved.”
Mitch watched Brian walk away. He looked at Spike, who wiped the gore from his clothes, and he shrugged his shoulders. He’d of pulled the trigger if Brian hadn’t. He wondered if Spike knew of Brian’s past. He hadn’t had much of a chance to talk with him but made a mental note to do so soon. Although he’d seen nothing from Brian that sent up warning flags, he knew the man was a stone-cold killer and warranted close watching.
The rest of the night passed in bouts and fits of uneasy sleep. When the first light of dawn broke over the night sky, Brian got up and fed the campfire and put on a pot for coffee. Today they should easily make the compound. His headache had subsided, along with the nausea and cramping diarrhea. Other than tiredness from the broken sleep, he felt pretty good. They had lost another of the wounded overnight, and this weighed heavily on his heart. The man’s name was Timothy. He had a wife back at the compound along with two small children. Now they would be fatherless and his wife, a widow. He shook his head sadly. Mel moved up and sat beside him.
Spike stirred in his sleep a few feet away and grumbled. “Shit! I didn’t sleep worth a dang!”
Smiling, Brian held up a cup of coffee. “It’s ready. Get your ass up and rouse the others. We need to get an early start today. I don’t want to lose one more of the wounded on this bloody road.”
Spike grimaced and crawled out of the blanket. His hair, wild and unruly, stood on end.
“Yup, I hear ya,” he muttered.
Mel handed him a cup of coffee. He smiled at her gratefully and took a sip. Leslie, Barbs, and Karen stumbled sleepily over to the fire and grabbed cups of coffee to get them started. Mel looked at each of the women and nodded good morning. Mitch and Cain joined them a few minutes later.
“Little Stephen is sick this morning. He drank a lot of water yesterday in this heat, so I’m thinking he’s suffering from the poison,” Barbs said. She lifted the cup of coffee to her mouth and peered over the rim at Mel.
“I’ve got some activated charcoal. That should help absorb the poison. We’ll have to watch him through the day for dehydration if he starts vomiting and experiences diarrhea,” Mel replied with a shadow of concern on her face. Damn, the children had been through enough, and now this? She didn’t know how much more she or they could take. With a sigh, she got up and pulled a bottle of activated charcoal from a bin in the back of one of the wagons. The stuff would go down hard, but not all medicine was meant to taste good. Activated charcoal would act as a binder for the poison and grab onto it. It would then transport the poison from the body through feces—a simple, effective remedy for mild poisoning.
Brian, Spike, and the rest of the men moved in single file making their way across the last few miles to the compound. After several rest stops and emergency stops for Stephen to run off into the woods with Mel hot on his heels, the rise of the road brought them within sight of their destination. A deep sigh escaped Brian’s lips as he moved the group ahead. He dreaded bringing the news of the deaths to the community. The trip caused a lot of heartaches and had taken a toll on all of them. It would be a relief to hand the reins over to the others. With Roger gone, he and Spike took responsibility for the ragtag group of refugees and prisoners. Now he could let that responsibility go.