Braving The Storms (Strengthen What Remains Book 3) (15 page)

Chapter Twenty Eight

Hansen Armory, Monday, October 5
^th

Tired and rubbing his neck, Caden walked into the office. Hearing a perking sound he looked to his left. Someone had plugged in the long unused coffeemaker and water stood in the pot. “Do we have coffee?”

A corporal stepped hesitantly into the room. “Ah, no sir. I was about to prepare some … well, it’s sort of tea.”

“Sort of tea?”

“Yes sir. It’s a herbal recipe that my wife’s family has been making for years. They sold it at the Library Park market until the flu shut it down. It’s hot and tastes … well, better than plain water.”

“You had me at hot. When it’s made, pour me a cup.” He continued on to his office.

Moments later Brooks stepped into the doorway. “Here’s the latest roster.”

Caden motioned for Brooks to enter, took the paperwork and read the report. Half of his men were sick or recovering. Ten had died since the outbreak and he knew more would follow.

A knock snapped him away from the melancholy report. The corporal delivered a cup of pale tea. He took a sip and the warm mint eased the discomfort in his throat.

Taking another sip, Caden turned to the routine minutia of the day. Several minutes later another knock diverted his attention. Hoover stood in the doorway. “Well, are you here to arrest me?”

“No, and you’re not funny either.”

“Okay.” Caden shrugged. “What do you need?”

“The funeral homes are no longer taking bodies.” Hoover stepped in and sat. “They say the danger of infection is too great. The morgue is full. We need to start mass burials.”

Caden sipped the tea as he wondered how dangerous the dead bodies were. He decided to call Dr. Scott and ask, then recalled she had Kern flu. He needed to call about her prognosis.

“We could dig trenches in unused parts of the pioneer cemetery,” Hoover suggested. “We’ll need a chlorine solution, or at least lime, heavy equipment for digging, and personnel to wrap and handle the bodies.”

They discussed the planning and logistics of the operation for several minutes and then Hoover nodded. “I think we have a plan. On a better note, we recovered several .270 bullets from an attempted robbery near your home last night.”

Caden smiled. “What do you want to bet at least one will be a match with the Wilson murder?”

“The state crime lab is barely running, but when we get the ballistics check I’m sure it will match. That’s what I came here to tell you. I would have phoned about the burial situation.”

“So, you believe me now?”

“I always believed you and when this case is closed, no one will be able to say you received favorable treatment. I have gone by the book and hopefully we’ll soon have the real culprits in custody. I’ve done you a favor. I hope someday you see that.” The sheriff stood and left.

Caden sighed. He knew the importance of doing things the right way, following procedure and not showing favoritism. So why did this investigation anger him? He took a long drink of tea. Perhaps part of the anger rose from his father being part of the inquiry. Also, he trusted Hoover, and thought that the sheriff had come to trust him, but the investigation made him feel like a suspect.

Like most men, Caden didn’t often examine his feelings, but this time it had revealed the source. It hurt him that, after so many months of working together, the sheriff treated him as a suspect—even if Hoover had to do it.

Caden sighed, felt embarrassed and small. The cause for those last feelings would not require examination. He leaned back in his seat, took another drink, and reached for his phone. Hoover deserved an apology. He set the phone on his desk and tapped the screen with one hand, while rubbing his sore throat with the other.

Brooks burst into the office. “On the radio….” He waved for Caden to come. “You’ve got to hear this.”

* * *

North of Hansen, Monday, October 5
^th

Zach pulled the blanket tight around him. The first glow of morning illuminated the rough campsite near the riverbank. He didn’t have a watch, but knew it was too early to expect the doctor. He sat up and yawned.

The top of Mrs. Hollister’s head protruded from the other end of the cover, revealing a wild mop of brunette hair. She fidgeted and softly moaned, but otherwise remained covered. She probably hadn’t slept well.

Zach stood, stretched and yawned again, before going to the edge of the forest to take care of morning matters. When he returned he sat with crossed legs and pulled the blanket around him. He imagined he looked like a Tibetan monk waiting for the sun to rise for morning prayers. Actually, he waited for the sun to warm his chilled body.

As the morning glow grew, birds chirped in the trees and flew overhead. Eventually the path of the sun crossed the small river valley and the first direct rays of warmth bathed him. Unlike the hustle and bustle of the world he usually lived in, this one remained peaceful.

A grocery truck rumbled down the road and stopped at the edge of the bridge.

Zach stood and wondered when he might eat breakfast.

Mrs. Hollister pulled the blanket down. Beads of sweat dotted her face.

Zach ran to her. “Are you sick?”

She nodded and tried to stand.

He reached out to help. Her arm felt clammy.

She crumpled to her hands and knees and seemed content to stay there. A moment later she crawled to the edge of the tarp and vomited. Then she rolled on her back.

“I’ll go get help.” Zach ran toward the soldiers on the bridge.

As he crossed a private yelled, “Halt.”

“It’s me, Zach … ah.” He stopped about twenty feet from the private and pointed to the campsite. “I need to get Mrs. Hollister to the doctor. She’s sick.”

“You both need medical clearance. The doc will be here in about an hour.”

“But she’s sick. I need to get her to a doctor.”

The soldier made a sweeping gesture toward the camp. “Everyone on your side of the bridge has Kern flu or, like you, knows someone who has it, but none of them gets in without medical clearance.”

Sergeant Roy trotted on to the bridge and Zach explained his situation.

“When we came on duty, Sergeant Hill told me you had crossed to the other side looking for a woman.” Roy sighed. “Sorry, but I agree with Hill’s decision. If you want to enter, fine, but the woman will need to be cleared.”

“But she won’t be cleared,” Zach protested. “She’s sick and needs treatment.”

“Yeah, her and thousands of others. The hospital’s overwhelmed. Most sick people need to have family or a friend bring them in for treatment. Ambulances and EMTs don’t respond for Kern flu.”

“But she can’t get to the hospital if you won’t let her in town.”

“The doc will be here in less than an hour. He treats those he can and, for the few who can get a bed at the hospital, we shuttle them. That’s the best I can do.”

“I’ve seen how this flu kills. If she’s going to have any chance of living she needs to receive treatment.”

“Yeah.” Roy nodded. “I’ve seen how it kills. My oldest boy died last week.”

“Oh … sorry.” Zach’s gaze dropped as his face flushed.

“It’s not personal.” Roy frowned. “It just has to be this way. I’ll get you anything you need until the doc gets here.”

Zach asked for bottles of water and then returned to Mrs. Hollister. He tried to explain why it would be nearly an hour before help arrived.

Tears welled in her eyes. “I’ve been so sad. I wanted to die, but I was afraid to act. Maybe I succeeded.”

“Don’t talk like that.” Zach shook his head. He folded his blanket into a pillow and offered her water, then stared across the river at the checkpoint, hoping the doctor would soon arrive. Minutes later a car pulled up to the medical tent followed immediately by the Hollister vehicle. “Your family is here and I think the doctor is also.”

After what looked like a huddle with everyone on the other side of the bridge, Mr. Hollister and DeLynn moved along the opposite side of the river until they were across from Zach.

His girlfriend looked up and down the bank. “Where’s Mom?”

Zach pointed to the pile of blankets. “She’s sick. Get the doctor.”

“We know.” DeLynn nodded. “He’s coming.” She stepped closer and shouted. “Mom, we’re here.”

“I tried to get her to a doctor,” Zach shouted. “Really, I did.”

DeLynn ran back to her father without a word. Moments later an older man in jeans and plaid shirt jogged across the bridge.

Zach thrust out his arm as he neared. “Don’t come any closer. I think she has Kern flu.”

“She probably does and so did I. That’s why I’m the doctor working here.”

The gray-haired man opened a medical bag, then pulled out two face masks and sets of gloves. “Here, put these on.” Then he turned to his patient. “Can you hear me ma’am?”

She gave a feeble nod.

“What’s your name?”

She mouthed the word, “Karen.”

Zach repeated her name.

The doctor checked her heart, blood pressure, and temperature.

“Is it ….” Zach couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Yes, I think so.” The doctor nodded. “But we can’t be certain without tests.” He pointed across the river. “Your friends over there told me you’ve been sick and recovered.”

“Yeah, just a few days ago.”

“That’s almost certainly why you’re still healthy. You’re very lucky.”

“I didn’t feel very lucky when I was sick.”

“No.” The doctor grinned. “Neither did I. I’ll get a stretcher and we’ll move her to the medical tent.”

When the doctor returned, Zach took one end and they carried her across the bridge. With a deputy, the soldiers blocked Mr. Hollister and DeLynn from the tent as their mother passed by. Zach didn’t know what to say to either one of them in such a situation so he kept his eyes cast down.

“Mom, I love you. Get better, please,” DeLynn shouted as they passed.

Zach and the doctor continued into the tent and through to the isolation section. A nurse stood over a patient at the far end. As he gazed at the sick and dying patients, Zach imagined the virus crawling over him looking for a way into his body. Although certain he remained immune; he still closed his mouth and tried not to inhale. Together with the doctor, Zach lifted Mrs. Hollister into a bed. The nurse soon joined the doctor, and Zach sat nearby.

About fifteen minutes later the doctor approached him. “We’ve hydrated her and given her antiviral medications, but this flu comes on so fast ….” He shook his head. “We’ve done all we can. I don’t think she has long. Could you stay with her?”

“Sure. Would you tell her family?”

The doctor nodded and left.

Zach moved his chair nearby and clasped her hand. For several hours he talked to her, watched the IV fluids drip down, and thought about how a few terrorists started a long chain of events that caused so much pain, suffering and death. Would evil ever end?

Mrs. Hollister’s gaze seemed to stare so far beyond Zach that he looked over his shoulder, but he saw nothing except clear plastic and green canvas.

With her eyes still fixed beyond, she said, “Thank you, for finding me.”

“Ah … sure,” Zach said.

Her gaze shifted to him for a moment and then back to something beyond. She smiled. “I’m glad you both found me. I’m ready.” She closed her eyes. “I’m not afraid.”

Over the next hour her breathing slowed and then stopped. Zach checked for a pulse, but felt nothing.

* * *

Hansen Armory, Monday, October 5
^th

Three different radios stood in a corner of the office, a SINCGARS army transceiver, a rarely used shortwave, and an AM/FM radio tuned to the local station.

Brooks turned up the volume.

“… get any closer to the area, but reports are coming in of troops landing in the Iroquois Point area and at the airport. From our position near the golf course we hear constant gun fire and several explosions. Fires are raging in the … wait!”

With the announcer quiet, Caden heard the gunfire and shouts of battle.

Brooks shook his head. “Where do you think this is happening?”

“We are now receiving reports of more troops landing unopposed along the Kamehameha Highway on the north shore.”

Caden nodded. “Oahu.”

“Go to William on the north shore,” the voice on the radio said. “The fighting is coming this way. We need to move.”

The sound of battle returned for a moment, and then a brief silence, followed by a familiar voice. “This is breaking news from KHEN, Hansen’s news station. We’ve been listening to a live report of battle on the island of Oahu, Hawaii. We hope to return there momentarily.”

Soft elevator music filled the room.

Two enlisted men stood nearby. “Find a television,” he ordered. “Set it up in the conference room on the double.”

“We now return you to the situation in Hawaii.” The sound of gunfire and the voice of a reporter filled the room.

Caden pulled up a chair and sat in front of the radio.

Fifteen minutes later the two soldiers brought in an old television and turned it on. Amid the sound of gunfire, jets, and explosions Caden saw what he had been looking for, the red flag of the People’s Republic of China.

Within minutes, radio checks and questions came over the SINCGARS radio. “All stations on this net, this is Command. Unless you are under attack, monitor this channel, but maintain radio silence.”

Caden drank several cups of tea while he continued to gather the news on television and radio. Around noon a private brought sandwiches to the room, but Caden had no appetite. “Leave the television volume up,” he said and retreated to his office with another cup of tea. He stared out the window for nearly a minute, unable to focus. Then he recalled that Dr. Scott remained in the hospital and called for an update.

“Hold please.” Click.

Caden sat in frustrated silence, listening to classical music while in the next room the sounds of war raged.

“Who are you holding for?”

“This is Major Westmore. I’d like an update on the condition of Dr. Scott.”

“Ah … I’m sorry. She died last night. Did you need anything else?”