Sanctuary

by Courtney McPhail

  “I’m going to stitch him up,” Quinton said, picking up the tweezers. “Malcolm, bring the light over here.”

  The truth was he had to stitch him up for himself. Because if the man lived, if he proved to not be infected, it was a chance for absolution from his guilt. If he let the man bleed out now, he would, without question, be the one who killed him.

  No matter how this played out, at least he’d know he had done his best. If his choice to shoot had been what damned the man, so be it, but he wouldn’t let it be said that he didn’t do his damnedest to try and rectify his mistake.

  He cleaned the wound and then began the job of stitching Hillman back together. It was difficult with only the lanterns for light and his limited tools but he finally got the job done. He let out a sigh of relief as he grabbed up the scissors and cut off the excess thread. Lorraine was there with an alcohol soaked pad to clean up the area around the stitches and then she placed a clean dry pad over the stitches and taped it down.

  Quinton stepped back from the bed, pulling off his gloves with a snap of latex and tossed them down on the bedside table where Lorraine had placed the other dirty gauze and towels. The contrast of red on white was startling, though it wasn’t any different than the aftermath of any of the other surgeries he had done.

  Except that sitting right here was a potential pile of festering death that could take any of them if they mishandled it.

  Quinton bent down to retrieve one of the pillows that had been knocked to the floor when they had put Hillman on the bed. He stripped off the pillowcase and then put on another pair of gloves before he began to stuff all the bloody material into the pillowcase.

  “We’re going to have clean all the surfaces in here that his blood touched,” Quinton said. “We need to strip off his clothing and the sheets, burn it all just to be safe.”

  “Wait, I want to get this straight,” Mendez said. “Do you or do you not believe he is infected?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted and Lorraine went to speak but he held up his hand. “I trust your assessment, Lorraine. If you say those are the symptoms, I believe you, but we aren’t one hundred percent positive.”

  “How the hell is this possible? Was he bitten?”

  Quinton shook his head. “No, there aren’t any external injuries other than the leg wound but he did come in contact with infected blood. When he and Alan fell, there was a freak trying to get to them. I had to shoot it. It was the only way to stop it. It is possible that infected blood got into his wounds.”

  Mendez ran a hand over her face and let out a curse as she began to pace the room. “How long before we know for sure?”

  “I’m not sure,” Quinton said and turned to Malcolm. “Do you know how long between Jose getting infected and him succumbing?”

  Malcolm shook his head. “Kim and Janet said it happened in the middle of the night. They left Marysville in the afternoon, eight to ten hours maybe.”

  “I saw it happen faster than that,” Lorraine said. Her eyes were haunted as she struggled with the memories, licking her lips a few times before she spoke. “One of my neighbours got bit on his way home, only a block from our building. He made it back home and we tried to help him, cleaned and bandaged him up. Thirty minutes later, he tried to kill his wife. Craig had to shoot him to stop him.”

  “So we’ve got between thirty minutes and ten hours,” Mendez said, frustration flowing off her in waves.

  Hillman let out a gasp, all his limbs twitching and everyone jumped. Quinton noticed that Malcolm’s hand dropped to the gun on his hip but he kept it in his holster as they all watched Hillman. His head lolled on his shoulders, turning to look at them with bleary eyes.

  “Where the hell am I?” he asked, his voice rough as gravel.

  Quinton let out the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. “You’re in a motel. You were injured but I stitched you up.”

  “My leg’s screaming like a bitch,” Hillman gasped, his hands fisting in the sheets.

  “I can help with that,” Quinton said. “Lorraine, can you get the morphine for me?”

  “Are you sure?” Lorraine said, hesitating as she looked at the others but she steeled herself to push through. “We only have so much and if he’s--”

  “He’s not!” Banks said, waving a hand at Hillman. “Look at him, he’s fine!”

  “You don’t know that and we shouldn’t waste good medicine on someone who is going to--”

  “You don’t know he is!” Banks said.

  “What are you talking about? What am I?” Hillman asked.

  Quinton took a step forward, knowing it was his duty to be honest with his patient. “We think that it’s possible infected blood got into your wound.”

  Hillman’s eyes closed, his face pulling up in a grimace as he let his head drop back on the mattress.

  “Hillman, dude, they don’t know shit,” Banks said. “Don’t listen to them. They think they smell something. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “I know what I’m talking about!” Lorraine insisted and Quinton could see her face darken with anger.

  “Banks, stop,” Mendez said. “We owe them for helping us and we’ll show them respect. Let’s all just calm down and talk about this like reasonable people.”

  “She is right,” Malcolm said and turned to Lorraine. “First things first, I think it’s only fair that we give Hillman something for his pain. Infected or not, I don’t want to see someone suffer, not if I can help it.”

  She nodded, her anger from before gone and replaced with her normal compassionate gaze. “You’re right. I’ll get the morphine.”

  She moved over to the medical bags as Malcolm looked to Hillman. “We’re going to keep you comfortable while we wait it out. You can stay in here and we’ll have someone watching over you, just in case.”

  “So he’s in quarantine?” Banks asked with suspicion and Malcolm nodded.

  “We should do the same to Alan,” Quinton said. “He was has an open head wound.”

  “I’ll go tell him,” Malcolm said.

  “No,” Quinton said. “I’ll tell him. This is my fault, I’ll own up to it.”

  “There isn’t any fault here. You did what had to be done. They’d be dead already if you hadn’t. You gave them a chance.”

  Malcolm’s words were pretty but they didn’t help. He might have destroyed three lives today. Hillman, Alan and Jenny. God, add the unborn child to the list too. He could have just robbed someone of ever knowing their father. If he had taken time to think, maybe there would have been another way but he’d never know. He’d made his choice and others might die because of it.

  “I’ll go with you to talk to Alan,” Malcolm said and turned to Mendez and Banks. “You two stay here with Lorraine and Hillman.”

  Lorraine was at Hillman’s side, administering the morphine.

  “Keep an eye on his vitals,” Quinton told her and then crossed to grab up his kit, determined to face the consequences of his choice. “Let’s go talk to Alan.”

  Subject File # 745

  Administrator: Audrey told me about the promise she had you make.

  Subject: Made her a buncha promises, yer gonna have to be more specific.

  Administrator: What you would do if she got infected. That’s a hell of promise.

  Subject: Yeah, well, seemed only fair considerin’ she promised to do the same for me.

  They’d managed to pile a good haul by the door, clearing out enough canned and boxed food that it took two of them to push the hand trucks. Jackson had finally called a halt when he realized that the supplies at the door were starting to look like a mountain more than a mound. If they got any more, the SUVs wouldn’t fit it all.

  The warehouse had enough to feed them for months. The people who had been camped out in here hadn’t been wrong to pick this place. The walls were solid and, with the fence around most of the property, it was secure. The only vulnerable spot was where the train tracks came onto the property but tha
t was an easy fix. The only disadvantage was lack of fresh water but water was easier to find than food or shelter. Hell, it had to rain eventually. Set up some barrels to catch it and you were set.

  Veronica was unloading one of the hand trucks and he bent down to grab a tray of cans and lifted them up.

  “Ya know, I was thinkin’ this place ain’t that bad. Solid walls, full of food, got a decent fence around it.”

  She smiled at him. “I had the same thought. We could even move the trucks out there to the fences to reinforce them.”

  He felt more confident hearing that she had thought about it too. “Ya think it’s crazy to consider makin’ a go of it here?”

  She set down the cans and straightened, her hands dropping to her hips and she looked around the warehouse.

  “I’ve been debating it. It sure as hell would be easier to stay than trying to make the last leg of the trip.”

  “Ain’t no guarantee we can even get to the island. We ain’t got no boats and who knows if there’ll be any for us when we get to the lake.”

  “All good points,” Veronica said, “And there is the possibility that it’s worse up there than here. Malcolm has never been there. We’ve got no idea what is waiting for us there.”

  “But could be a million times better up there,” he added. “Could have a workin' hospital, could be in contact with other places, could have a way out of this for all of us.”

  She nodded. “If we bring this to the others, we both have to be sure about it or we’ll never get them to agree.”

  She was right. They both saw the potential but still had their doubts. They’d have to sell it to the rest of the group and if they sensed any doubt it would be off the table before they had even given it a chance.

  “Gotta decide what’s better, an okay reality or the potential for something greater.”

  She let out a small laugh. “Part of me feels like we’d be greedy to want more than this and if we’re greedy, we’re going to be punished for it.”

  “There ain’t some higher power out there to getcha,” he said.

  “Logically I know that, but that doesn’t make the feeling go away.” She sighed as she looked around the warehouse. “But I do know it’s not a good reason to stay here.”

  So they were back to square one.

  “What ‘bout a pros and cons list, yeah?” he suggested.

  “Okay, pros list. We don’t have to worry about gas to get us the rest of the way to the island,” she said.

  “Won’t have to worry ‘bout food for months,” he added.

  “It’s far away from any city centre.”

  “Solid walls and the fence will keep out any packs of freaks,” he said.

  “Alright, now the cons. We’re gonna hafta work extra hard to get water here,” he said.

  “There’s only over the counter medicine here so we’d have to go get more medical supplies.”

  “What are you two talking about?” Audrey asked as she and Claudia joined them with their loaded hand truck.

  Veronica turned to her. “We were doing a pros and cons list about whether we should stay here instead of going to the island.”

  Audrey frowned. “Why would we stay here?”

  “Well, there’s lots of food, solid walls and we still have a ways to go to get to the island. We don’t know exactly what’s there but we do know what’s here and it’s pretty good.”

  Audrey swung her head around to look at the warehouse, distress on her face.

  “I don’t want to live in this cave. There aren’t any windows and all there is outside is a parking lot and train tracks. The island’s got beaches and trees and sunlight.”

  “Audrey, there’s no guarantee that the island is what we think,” Veronica said.

  “Pretty sure as long as it really is an island, it’s going to have beaches, trees and sunlight,” Claudia said, trying to hide a smile and Veronica glared at her sister.

  “What I mean is that we don’t know what the island is going to be like,” Veronica said.

  “Whatever it’s like, it’s got to be better than this,” Audrey said. “This place isn’t a home.”

  They were simple words but Jackson found himself choking up a bit at hearing them come from the girl. This wasn’t just about finding a safe place. It was about finding a home and, as somebody who’d spent most of his life without a proper home, he knew how important it was.

  The girl was right. This place wasn’t a home.

  He looked over at Veronica and could see Audrey had struck a chord with her too. Her eyes were shiny and she wore that small smile that meant she thought something was sad but she didn’t want to fall apart so she smiled through it.

  “Okay, so if we add that to the con list, I think we’ve made our decision,” she said. “So we better start loading up one of the trucks.”

  They pushed the hand trucks out through the lobby and into the daylight. Jackson had to shield his eyes from the sunlight as they burned from the sudden brightness. He had almost forgotten it was the middle of the afternoon. Now he understood exactly why Audrey didn’t want to live in there.

  He blinked several times until he could see properly, scanning the fenced lot for any newcomers that might have come up while they were inside but it was empty.

  “Y’all unload what we got. I’ll get keys to one of the rigs and pull it ‘round,” Jackson said.

  He went back into the lobby to the key box he had spotted earlier behind the desk. A clipboard hung next to the metal key box, a schedule listing the day’s shipments and the trucks that would be taking them out. He scanned the schedule, figuring that the trucks that had been ready to go out when things had fallen apart would be most likely to have full tanks.

  He opened the box and found dozens of keys hanging on pegs, each of them neatly labelled with the truck number. He snatched up the numbers from the schedule and headed back outside, passing Claudia and Audrey as they went back inside with the empty hand truck.

  Veronica was still unloading the last hand truck and he jingled the keys in her direction. “Got ‘em.”

  “You sure you can drive one of them?” she asked and he nodded. “Good, of my many talents, driving a big rig isn’t one of them.”

  “Ya ain’t ever learned how to drive stick?”

  “Oh I know how to handle a stick,” she said with a wink. He looked away, his cheeks warming at the innuendo in her voice. “Just not sure the ride would be that smooth.”

  He ducked his head to hide his blush, focusing on reading the tags attached to the keys in his hands.

  “Come on, I left that one wide open for you.”

  He looked at her, one eyebrow raised. The hell was she talking about?

  “You were supposed to make some comment about the kind of smooth ride you could show me. That’s how this thing works.”

  “What thing?”

  “You hitting on me.”

  He blanched at that and then his neck burned as blood rushed back to his face, burning his cheeks. What the hell was she talking about? He knew she liked to tease him but outright accusing him was different.

  “I ain’t never hit on ya,” he replied gruffly.

  “Oh really? Because I remember you feeling me up in there.”

  He could hear the laughter in her voice. So that’s what this was about. Just another way to tease him.

  “I was checkin’ to make sure ya were okay, that’s all. Not my fault ya got those...things there.”

  “Breasts. They’re called breasts.”

  His cheeks burned even hotter. Goddamn it, why’d she like to do this to him? He hated being embarrassed and it seemed to be that embarrassing him had become her favourite pastime.

  “Relax, I’m just teasing you because I know you were going to be awkward about it until I did. It’s no big deal, I know you weren’t thinking like that.”

  Wasn’t exactly true. There was a brief moment after his fear for her safety gave way to realization of what he was touchi
ng. A short burst of arousal had set his brain fizzling out for a moment before he snatched his hands away. He felt guilty that he had thought of her like that for even a split second when she was trying to recover from the attack.

  “Go get the truck so you can get back and help lift this shit,” she said, waving him away.

  He took the exit she offered and beat tracks over to the trucks. He needed to clear his head and focus on the task at hand. He didn’t have time to think about the fact that he was finding himself checking out Veronica more often now. His attraction to her was growing by the day but he couldn’t let it distract him.

  It didn’t take him long to find a truck that matched the keys and he climbed up into the cab. He got her started, the engine turning over smoothly and he grinned as he watched the fuel gage needle swing over to full.

  He put the truck into gear and drove it over to the employee parking lot and backing the truck up to the door. He watched Veronica in the side mirror as she guided him back, the truck giving a bounce as its wheels climbed up the curb as he got as close to the door as he could. When Veronica gave him the signal, he killed the engine and climbed down.

  When he rounded the back of the trailer, Veronica had already opened the doors and had the ramp down. The back of the truck was empty except for a couple dollies and thick quilted blankets to protect the more fragile cargo.

  “Alright, let’s fill this baby up.”

  They went to work transferring their haul into the trailer. The dollies and hand trucks made it go faster than he had expected, working in an assembly like fashion. He and Veronica would load the contents of the hand truck onto the dollies and wheel them up into the trailer while Audrey and Claudia would take the empty hand truck back inside to load it up.

  “Last load,” Claudia called out as she and Audrey appeared in the door of the warehouse pushing the full hand truck in front of them.

  Good. If they didn’t run into any trouble on the road, they’d be back to the motel before sundown.