by Connor Mccoy
Goat chuckled an “Oh yeah?” kind of way, but he quickly froze up, perhaps realizing that Jacob meant business. Pummel just stood there, not signaling his approval or displeasure.
Satisfied, Jacob pushed open the two wooden doors. The place wasn’t locked. Thankfully, Jacob did not have to break into this place.
Naturally, all the lights were out. Jacob walked slowly. He did not want to shock anyone who might be hiding in here. A sudden movement from Jacob or the other two could trigger a few gunshots from these dark shadows around them.
They reached the double doors that led into the church’s chapel. Jacob raised his hand, signaling to stop. Then he took hold of the handle and pried the door open slowly. With a large enough gap, he peeked within.
The chapel was still. No one sat in the pews. The podium where this church’s pastor preached stood unoccupied.
“Hello!” Jacob cried out.
“What the hell are you doing?” Goat brandished his weapon in Jacob’s face. “You want to get us all killed?”
“If there are people here, I don’t want to take them by surprise.” Jacob pushed the door fully open. “It doesn’t look like there’s anyone here but we have to be careful.”
The trio combed the chapel, looking for anything that might have been left behind. As Pummel had pointed out on the road, churches often serve as staging areas in times of disaster, so some supplies might be left here.
After searching for a while, Pummel barked from the podium, where the pulpit stood. “Avery! Get your ass over here.”
Jacob charged up the center aisle to rejoin Pummel. Goat approached from the right wall. “What is it?”
Pummel was standing in front of a cardboard box of water and MREs. It wasn’t much, but it would do for a start. However, Pummel wasn’t looking at the supplies. Jacob’s jaw clenched when he saw what Pummel had discovered.
Three men and a woman lay sprawled on the floor with guns in their hands. Blood was splattered across the back wall and against the piano nearby. All four of them had shot themselves.
“Holy shit!” Goat said. Even he sounded as though he had had the wind knocked out of him.
Jacob knelt down next to a middle-aged, balding man. A slip of paper lay near his open left hand. Jacob opened it up and read the few words scrawled on it in pencil. “The trumpet sounded and we weren’t ready.”
Goat shrugged. “What the hell does that mean?”
Jacob rubbed the paper in his hand. Trumpet. If these were religious people, they must be referring to the Bible. Jacob himself, though not a devoutly religious individual, was familiar with many Biblical teachings. A verse suddenly popped into his mind. “1st Corinthians 15, verse 52.”
He turned around, addressing Goat and Pummel directly. “It says when the last trumpet blows, the dead will rise and those still on the Earth, the believers in Christ, they will be changed, transformed, given eternal life. Some Christians believe it refers to the Rapture.”
“Rapture?” Goat asked.
“God transports all of his followers off the Earth before the Great Tribulation. That’s what they believe, anyway. Christians escape the rule of the Beast and the Judgments sent by God before the return of the Christ.”
Goat gestured to the bodies. “So why the hell did they shoot themselves?”
Jacob let the paper fall. “They thought God had left them. They thought they weren’t true believers. The only thing they had left to look forward to was the Great Tribulation spoken of in the Bible.”
“Despair,” Pummel said.
Goat laughed. “What, you understand these holy rollers, man?”
Pummel flashed Goat such an angry glare that the smaller man actually backed away a few steps.
Jacob clutched his mouth. He felt sick. These deaths weren’t like the ones he had witnessed in the streets of Pleasantville. Those people had died at the hands of others. These four people did it to themselves. They were the victims of their own despair.
“Hey,” Pummel barked, “Start loading your sack.”
For once, Jacob was grateful for Pummel’s bluntness, as it snapped him back to reality. He started filling the sack with the water and MREs.
Jacob huffed. The sack was full. However, that realization made him feel good. This had to be enough to fulfill the Middleburg resource run.
He was emerging from the small library behind him. Actually, it was the second library the three of them had hit. Luckily, the libraries coffee shop and break rooms had a lot to offer. Between the libraries, the church, and the small beat-up gas station, they had been lucky to stumble upon what had not been looted. They had found enough to fill their sacks. Finishing up the run was the only good thing about all of this. He looted a pharmacy to help his daughter. By extension, he was doing the same by stealing from libraries and a church, but he still felt sick doing it.
As they mounted their bikes, they were approached by a small crowd of men. They carried lead pipes, rifles and jagged pieces of wood. Jacob realized that with the bulging sacks on their backs these looters would view them as a target. Jacob, Goat and Pummel only appeared unremarkable to the other looters when they didn’t look as though they had acquired much. Unfortunately, there would be no honor among thieves. It would be every man for himself.
So Jacob did not wait. He yanked out his gun and fired twice into the air. The crowd immediately stopped their advance and many of them ducked down.
“Go!” Jacob started pedaling, not caring to get Pummel’s permission.
Goat and Pummel quickly followed suit. The crowd of looters broke out into angry swearing, with some of them tossing stones after the fleeing trio.
“Quick!” Jacob made a hard left turn, almost hitting the curb. He knew the crowd would start taking shots at them, so they had to make sure they didn’t give the looters their backs. By hugging the side of the road, they wouldn’t provide any clear shots.
Sure enough, the looters made the same left turn and did shoot after them, but by now Jacob, Goat and Pummel were too far away. The last round of gunshots faded into the distance. Soon the air was quiet again.
“We made it!” Goat looked behind him while yelling, “So long, you stupid sack of shit city!”
Jacob let out a long breath. He almost couldn’t believe they had succeeded. His chances of rejoining his family just skyrocketed, provided Goat and Pummel did not cause any trouble as they departed the city.
Goat turned back to Pummel and gave him a thumbs-up. Pummel nodded at his partner and smiled.
And then he pulled out his gun and shot Goat.
Chapter Five
Doc Sam finished anchoring the door so it would not slam shut. “There we go.” With the door to his treatment room open and a clear path inside created, he wasted no time charging outside toward the road that ran by his house.
Brandon, running behind him, asked, “How many are coming?”
“They said two.” Doc Sam reached the side of the road. “One of them is worse off than the other, suffered wounds of some kind. Could be gunshots.”
Brandon hiked up the strap on his shoulder. He was carrying a bag of medical supplies. Doc Sam wanted to keep weight off his back so he could move quickly. Sam could whip out instruments from Brandon’s bag if needed until they got the men into his treatment room.
As soon as word got to the house that wounded newcomers were approaching Trapp, Doc Sam had sprung into action. As he had told the Averys before, he had been expecting more patients, perhaps a whole line of refugees looking for aid. Doc Sam was surprised only two had shown up.
He also had heard that one of them had collapsed on the road. Four adults were carrying that man on a makeshift stretcher. The other wounded stranger staggered behind at a good distance, escorted by two men. Domino just now was joining them.
“Sam!” Floyd called to Doc Sam as the doctor approached the party of four. “Thank God. He’s alive, but he’s out of it.”
“Keep going,” Doc Sam said as he walked
alongside the stretcher. “We’re almost to my house.”
Though the doctor’s vision was not as sharp as it used to be, he discerned several details almost immediately. The man was thin, a good thing as it made him easier to carry. His clothing was filthy, dotted with stains and even gobs of dirt. This man had been exposed to the elements for a long time.
The blood spots concerned Doc Sam the most. His right arm was marred by crimson. Doc Sam lifted up the arm, finding it red on the other side. The man likely was struck by a bullet that penetrated through to the other side. A possible good sign. The bullet would not be lodged inside his body and cause infection or poisoning.
A second coat of blood covered his right shoulder. If this was also the result of a gunshot, the bullet likely hit near the top of the shoulder. Doc Sam hoped it also blew clean through his body, but he couldn’t lift the man’s shoulder while walking alongside him.
The third wound troubled him the most. Blood had spilled out of the man’s left side. If he had been shot there, the bullet likely still would be in the man’s body. There were many possibilities in that scenario. The bullet might have hit a bone. The bullet could have lodged in his body without doing much more than penetrating the skin. Or the bullet could have severed an artery or damaged an organ or nerves. This man could be dead in mere minutes.
Fortunately, the men and women who brought him into Trapp already had bound the wounds, staunching further blood loss. That act alone could save his life.
Doc Sam made sure to run into his home’s treatment center first. The patient bed already was wheeled out within easy reach of the people transporting the patients. “Here, here, let’s get him up here.” Doc Sam stood off to the head of the bed while the five men and women lifted the man up onto the bed. “Gently, now. Gently. Good, good.”
As he guided them, Doc Sam slipped on a pair of surgical gloves. He would do his best to keep his patient free of infection while he treated him. Proper sterilization procedures also were a must for him as well.
“Janet!” Doc Sam barked. “Take the shoulder and the arm wounds. I need to devote myself to the side wound.”
A twentysomething woman, who was part of the team of six, already was slipping on her own pair of surgical gloves. Janet Kartheiser had been one of Doc Sam’s students for the past year. The doctor knew that if disaster struck and they were deprived of their typical services, there should be others who understood at least basic medical skills. Janet was one of Doc Sam’s most eager apprentices. She knew what was required of her even before the doctor said anything.
As Janet took a look at the man’s arm and shoulder wounds, Doc Sam tended to the man’s side. Sure enough, there was a small hole that could have been the result of a bullet. At the angle of impact, it was impossible for the bullet to have exited the man’s body.
“Damn,” Doc Sam muttered, “alright.” He reached toward the nearby table. “Time for anesthesia. I’m going to have to open him up and find that damned bullet, if I can.”
Brandon waited outside the room as he was instructed. Doc Sam appreciated his help, but this was too serious a matter for the boy to be in the surgery area. Brandon wished he could see more of what was going on, but his view was obstructed by Janet, who was working on the man’s other wounds.
The sound of crunching soil drew his attention back to the front yard. His mother, along with two other adults, was escorting the other newcomer toward the open door. However, the man did not make it under his own power. He collapsed onto his knees and only was saved from slamming face-first into the dirt by his palms. He held himself up, but he did not move.
“Can’t…” he said with a wheeze. When he opened his mouth, he exposed a mouth that was missing some front teeth. Brandon grimaced. This guy appeared to have been through some rough times.
“Easy.” Domino knelt down next to him, along with the two Trapp residents. “Just sit here and rest a moment.”
The man extended a shaky finger to the door behind Brandon. “Zell. Zuh…”
“Your friend’s being treated,” said one of the men beside him.
“Cousin. Zell’s my cousin,” the man corrected.
Domino nodded. “My God. I guess that must be tougher.” She turned to her boy. “Water.”
“Right.” Brandon dug into his bag and yanked out a bottle of water. He handed it to the man.
“Thanks.” He opened his mouth wide and dumped a stream of water into his open mouth and all over his face. He either did it on purpose or his coordination was messed up as hell.
“Could you tell us what happened to you?” Domino asked.
The man let his head hang low. “Zell and me.” He slapped his chest. “They tried to rob us. They wanted food. They shot Zell. I killed them.” The man threw a punch. “We looked for help. Zell, he bled bad. We figured we both would die soon.”
“Thank God you ran into us,” Domino said.
“Yeah.” The man drank again, just as messily as the first time.
“What’s your name?” Domino asked.
“My name?” The man looked up to the sky as if he had to think about it. “Evander. Evander Lutz. Zell, my cousin, he’s also a Lutz. We’re cousins.”
Brandon grimaced. This guy wasn’t in healthy shape. Brandon wondered if Evander wasn’t well before he and his cousin were attacked. He was thin, so thin that his arms appeared bony if the boy looked at them from the side. He also scratched himself every several seconds, and he quivered a little on his left side. Additionally, Brandon noted the small sore just above the man’s left eyebrow. It didn’t look like it occurred recently.
Evander looked up at Domino. “So, what is this place again?” he asked her.
“The arm wound’s prepped to suture up,” Janet said.
“Good, good. I don’t need to check it. I trust you, Janet,” Doc Sam said. His attention remained fixed on his forceps. It seemed he finally had been able to locate the bullet inside the man’s body. “Almost…”
Sweat poured down Doc Sam’s face. This procedure had been delicate. Doc Sam feared the man would start bleeding, and he had no blood on hand to provide a transfusion, not that he could have without knowing the man’s blood type. Fortunately, Janet had cleaned out both of the man’s other wounds, had sealed up the shoulder wound, and now was preparing to stitch up the arm wound.
His forceps made contact. Gently, Doc Sam extracted his instrument. His metal tongs had produced a tiny bent piece of blood-covered metal. “This is it.” He dropped the bullet inside the round metal bowl on the table next to him.
With the bullet extracted, Doc Sam hurried to the next step. “Now let’s start closing this man up.”
As Doc Sam prepared to sew up the wound, he wondered how lucky he had been today. This man stood a chance of living. There would be others brought to him that would be worse off.
Evander tilted his head back against the wall. “A soft bed.” He smiled, his eyes looking glazed over. “This is so, so good.”
Domino chuckled. “I suppose it’s better than almost kissing the ground.”
Evander turned a little in Domino’s direction. Brandon, standing with her, didn’t like how this guy stared at his mom, but he kept his mouth shut. “Are you, like, the nurse or something?”
“No, just a friend of the doctor,” she replied. “He’s going to be in to take a look at you. He’s still finishing up with your cousin.”
“Is he going to live?” Evander asked.
“If I have anything to say about it, he will.” Doc Sam poked his head through the doorway. He quickly nodded at Domino and Brandon. “Thanks for bringing him in.” The man let out a hefty sigh. “Forgive me, but the past couple of hours has taken the life out of me. What can I say? I’m not twenty anymore.”
The doctor approached Evander. “What’s your name, partner?”
“This is Evander Lutz.” Domino walked up to Doc Sam. “You saved his cousin, Zell.”
“Cousins, huh?” Doc Sam leaned closer to Evand
er’s face. “Tell me, Mister Lutz, where do you hail from?”
“Sideburg,” he said, “me and Zell, we live there.”
“Sideburg.” Doc Sam tilted Evander’s head back. “That’s about, oh, a day and a half away on foot. Were you riding in a car, maybe got caught in the EMP?”
“EM-what? We weren’t listening to the radio, doc.”
“No, I mean did your vehicle stall on the road? Is that why you’re out here? Did you have to get out and walk up the road to get here?”
Evander’s mouth hung open for a moment. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, that’s what happened. Got attacked after that. Zell got shot. I grabbed the gun, shot them back.”
“Did you get shot?” Doc Sam asked.
“Uh, no, I don’t think so,” Evander replied.
Doc Sam stood back. “Take off your shirt. I want to look at your chest and back.” He gestured to a stethoscope hanging from his coat. “I’m also going to listen to your breathing and your heart.”
Evander discarded his shirt next to him. “Do I have to show you my ass or anything, Doc? Because I’m not comfortable with that.”
Doc Sam sighed. “Hopefully not, but Lord knows where this examination will take us.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Brandon, take the man’s shirt and put it in the cleaning bucket for washing later.”
Brandon jogged over to the man’s shirt, but suddenly Evander seized it, his fingers pressing into it like a bird’s talons. “Uh, no, kid. I’ll keep a hold of that.”
Whoa. Brandon backed away. A fire flashed in this man’s eyes. He was deadly serious about not letting his shirt out of his sight.
“Well, if that’s what you wish.” Doc Sam took out his stethoscope. “Now, turn around…”
Brandon waited until he was back in the guest room with Jubilee before he voiced his opinion of Evander Lutz, and it wasn’t flattering at all. “Mom, that guy is super creepy. I don’t like how he looked at you. And you saw him snatch his shirt away. He was like a…”
