Braving The Storms (Strengthen What Remains Book 3) (17 page)

Chapter Thirty One

Hansen Armory, Monday, October 12
^th

Weird dreams of blood, death, and specters haunted Caden’s mind for what seemed an eternity. Pain lingered in a black void when the demons withdrew. The torments retreated gradually, leaving a restful nothingness.

Aware of an annoying beep, Caden forced his eyes open. Hardly moving his head, he gazed from side to side at a tiny room filled with hospital equipment. Sunshine poured in from an unseen window behind him. Just a few feet from his bed, a door opened. A woman wearing a breathing mask and bio-hazard suit entered. Their eyes met. She hurried to his side. Despite the mask and gown, he thought he recognized her. “Maria?”

“You’ve come back to me.” She leaned down and kissed him through the mask.

While he gazed into her eyes, sleep overcame him.

* * *

Lieutenant David Brooks spoke with General Harwich on the landline phone while the head of the new draft board sat across the desk from him, waiting impatiently. As Brooks tried, unsuccessfully, to end the conversation with the general, the cell phone in his pocket vibrated.

He decided that frustration lurked in the cosmic fabric of Monday mornings. “Yes, sir. I’ll get those numbers to you today.”

The general grunted. “How is Major Westmore doing?”

“I haven’t heard today. Last night he was still unconscious, but his fever had declined to almost normal.” The annoying vibration in his pocket continued. “However, he seems to be resting comfortably.”

“I need to talk to him,” the general said. “Let me know the minute he wakes up.”

“Yes, sir.” He grabbed his cell phone and it stopped vibrating. He pulled it from his pocket with an exasperated grunt, but noticed the call came from Maria. That early in the day her call would probably be a status update on Caden. Brooks held up one finger asking the gray-haired man from the draft board to wait as he returned her call. “Maria, this is David. What do you need?”

“Caden’s awake! Or at least he was. He’s gone back to sleep now.”

“That’s great news.” He sighed as worry for his friend flowed away. “Thanks for letting me know.” He wondered if he should call the general, but decided to wait. “Call me when he stays awake.”

He hung up and looked to the chairman of the draft board. “What have you got for me?”

The old veteran pulled two sheets from a briefcase and handed them to Brooks. “We thought we’d start by identifying the men eighteen to forty-five years old that were recently discharged, but still have reserve time. Once they’re called up, the service can use a stop-loss order to keep them in.”

“Probably a good idea.” Brooks ran his finger down the list. Almost at once he noticed, ‘Brennon, Zachery.’” He pointed to the name. “This one wasn’t in the service.”

“There are a few like that, young men with ROTC training either in high school or college. In Brennon’s case he worked here, virtually as a soldier, and fought in two battles. We thought it a good idea to get such people in quickly. We do have a two-front war to fight.”

Brooks nodded. The war with China had flared red hot even as the civil war with Durant in the east quieted because of the spreading sickness. Brooks signed the list as acting military commander and handed it back. “Okay, it’s official. Draft them.”

* * *

Hansen Armory, Tuesday, October 13
^th

Caden rested somewhere between sleep and awake as snoring gradually entered his consciousness. His eyes fluttered open and adjusted to the sunlit room. A vague memory emerged. He had awakened here once before. No beeping annoyed him this time, and less equipment cluttered the room. A single intravenous bag sent a slow drip into his arm. Maria, the source of the snoring, dozed, slumped over in a chair to his right. She wore no bio-hazard protection. Perhaps he had survived the Kern flu. He took a deep breath and as he let it out tension seemed to flow out with it. For several moments he stared at Maria, admiring the soft feminine lines of her face.

Her eyes opened just a hint.

He smiled. “So, am I going to be okay?”

“Oh!” Her eyes shot open. With quick flicks of her hands she brushed back her hair and wiped her eyes and mouth. “Ah … yes, your temperature has been normal for over a day. The doctor said you aren’t contagious. How do you feel?”

He sighed and tried to sit up. “Like I’ve been in a knockdown, drag-out fight.” With his shoulders barely on the pillow, he stopped and groaned. “I think I lost that bout.”

“You’ve been in a fight, but the virus lost.” Maria stood. “I’ll be right back.” She left, but returned a minute later with a medic.

The soldier gave Caden a quick check. “You’re one of the lucky ones, sir.” He removed the last IV. “You’ll need a few days to regain strength, but you should be fine.”

“I’d like to rest up at home.”

The young man nodded. “That sounds like an excellent idea. I’ll inform the XO that you’re awake.”

Maria turned toward the door. “I’ll get a wheelchair.”

“No.” Caden shook his head. “If I’m leaving here I’m walking out. Help me get dressed.”

When he finished, Caden stood, swayed and stumbled. He clutched Maria’s hand. “Maybe we can walk with my arm resting on your shoulder.”

A grin wrinkled the corners of her mouth, but sadness lingered on her face. She put an arm around him. “I certainly don’t mind but, before we get home, there’s something I need to tell—.”

The door opened and Brooks entered. “Good to see you up, sir.” He turned to Maria. “I need to speak with him alone about some operational matters.”

Caden slumped into a chair.

“Already?” Anger flared in Maria’s eyes. “Can’t you let him recover first?”

Brooks blushed.

Caden raised his hand in a stop motion. “It’s okay, Maria.”

“No, it’s not. Two days ago you were on the verge of death and I had to watch you, wondering every moment if you would live or die. Now you’re back, but you can’t even rest a couple of days?”

He looked at her for several moments. “You’re right.” Caden turned to Brooks. “Is anyone going to die if you don’t talk to me?”

Brooks glanced at Maria and then back at Caden. “General Harwich has been very eager to speak with you. I told him you would probably be well enough today.”

“What does he want to talk about?”

Again Brooks glanced at Maria, then returned his gaze to Caden. “Ah … he hasn’t told me much. I received this order six days ago.” He handed a paper to Caden.

Maria sat on the only other chair in the room and fixed angry eyes on Brooks.

Caden read the order, folded it, and handed it back. “I’ll phone him … soon.”

“Yes, sir.” Brooks saluted. “Welcome back.” He glanced at Maria. “I’ll see you in a few days then.”

With his own glance at Maria, Caden said, “Maybe longer.”

Brooks turned and left.

Maria stood and helped Caden to his feet.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Okay, take me home. I promise to stay there while I recover and regain my strength before coming back here.”

Maria slipped her arm around Caden. As they walked from the room she turned to him. “There’s something I need to tell you before we get home. Something important.”

* * *

Hollister Hotel, Wednesday, October 14
^th

Zach and Vicki rode the elevator down to the lobby after breakfast. The sound of Mr. Hollister cutting a board in a far corner greeted them as they exited.

Vicki shook her head as they walked. “All Mr. Hollister does is work. He’s practically been living down here since his wife died.”

“He just wants to get the place fixed up. When things get back to normal—.”

DeLynn came out of the office holding a letter. “This was in with some business mail.” She handed it to Zach. “It looks all official. I never thought of this before, but we should set you guys up with mailboxes.”

Vicki looked at the envelope. “What’s the War Mobilization Board?”

Zach shrugged as he examined the envelope. “I don’t know.” He shoved it in a pocket. “I’ll deal with it later.”

DeLynn turned to Vicki. “Could I get your help in the bakery for a few minutes?”

“Sure, I’ll be right there.” When DeLynn turned the corner Vicki pointed to the letter that barely protruded from his pocket. “I can see the concern on your face. What is the letter about?”

Zach pulled it from his pocket and tore it open.

Greetings, a local board composed of your neighbors has determined that you are available for training and service in the armed forces of the United States. You are hereby notified that you have been selected for training and service in the Army. Under the War Mobilization Act recently passed by Congress, you are hereby ordered to report for duty at 0800 on Monday, November 2
^nd
at Joint Base Lewis-McChord.

Zach stuffed it back in his pocket. His mind raced as he tried to figure out what to do.

Vicki’s eyes narrowed and she frowned. “What is it?”

“Don’t say anything to DeLynn.” Zach shook his head. “I’ve got to talk to Major Westmore. I’ve been drafted.”

* * *

Westmore Farm, Rural Lewis County, Wednesday, October 14
^th

A blue sky and yellow sun gave no warmth. Near an ancient Douglas fir tree on the far side of the Westmore farm, two simple coffins rested on boards above open graves. Caden sat in a lawn chair nearby unable to stand for more than a minute or two. He wanted to grieve for both of the dead, but felt only numbness.

His mother sat on his right, wiping tears from her face. He leaned over and hugged her. Maria stood on his left, dabbing at her eyes. She had broken the news of his father’s death on the way home yesterday. The pain of that news still twisted inside of him.

There had been so many tears this year. Telling loved ones about death was a duty he had come to know. Such a thankless job. He gently squeezed her hand.

A joyless smile crossed Maria’s face as she squeezed back.

As a young man Caden’s greatest wish had been to escape the rural county of his birth and the farm where he lived. He had never hated, and rarely disliked his father, but he had dismissed him as simply a farmer with only a high school diploma. Since the terror attacks and the collapse of the economy, he had come to respect his father’s farming and carpentry skills. Those talents had fed the family that year. Why had he never said that to his father? He stared at the coffin and prayed for a heaven where he might get the chance.

His gaze drifted to the coffin beside his father’s. Dr. Scott had treated most of the people he knew in the community. Briefly he wondered if she had delivered him, but decided it unlikely. Dr. Scott had been in family practice, not obstetrics. Being a doctor in the town of Hansen had been her life. There was no family that he knew of, except the community. Caden couldn’t let her be buried in a mass grave, so she would be buried here with his family.

He looked around, nodded to Zach and a few others from the armory. Most of the town should have been there for his father and Dr. Scott, but few attended. Fear of the flu, he told himself.

He glanced at the low marble marker of Peter’s grave and then at Sue. Her sad red eyes looked down at little Peter in her arms.

Lisa stood nearby holding hands with Brooks.

Across from the new graves stood the old headstones marking the resting places of his grandparents, an uncle and two aunts. These weather worn markers, made from local granite, displayed their age like a badge of honor. It gave the place a sense of dignity.

Caden looked at Hoover in the dress uniform of a sheriff. Normally the eulogy would have fallen to the pastor, but Kern flu had stricken him, too. Perhaps it then would have fallen to Caden, but his recovery had only begun. Thankfully, Hoover had asked to speak.

The sheriff stepped up to the edge of the graves and looked to the family.

Caden nodded.

Hoover coughed to get everyone’s attention, which in a time of pandemic flu probably wasn’t the best idea, but it worked.

“I’d like to say a few words about my two friends.” Hoover paused for a moment as he stared at the graves. “I met Trevor Westmore my first year on the force.”

Caden winced, thinking Hoover was about to tell the story of arresting Caden for underage drinking. He hung his head as he recalled phoning his father to bail him out that night.

“Trevor had been a volunteer only a few months when twenty-five year old deputy Higgins died in a traffic accident. Trevor met with his wife and family, prayed with them and organized the department donation drive. Over the years, I learned that was his way.”

Caden relaxed a bit.

Hoover told other events during Trevor’s years at the department. The sheriff also praised his father’s years in the army and how he rallied the community during the most recent crisis. Several were stories Caden had never heard before.

“Unlike Trevor, Dr. Scott wasn’t born here. She chose this community after medical school. When she came here forty-two years ago, what we call the hospital stood as nothing more than a large clinic. She led and molded it into the legacy that stands today.

“Dr. Scott lived her life for others and died treating Kern flu patients. How many people are alive today because of her work?” Hoover shook his head. “We’ll probably never know.

“Neither of them hid their faith, nor did they see it as a cause for pride. It was part of them and determined how they acted. We all benefited and both were examples for me as I matured. I’m saddened that these two pillars of our community were taken from us during this time of suffering, but I know that they are now in glory.”

From years of Sunday school, Caden caught the Biblical references. He had never seen this side of Hoover before.

“Trevor Westmore and Dr. Scott are not ghosts lingering among us. They knew their ultimate destination and I am confident they are now at home with the Lord.”

Others shared memories. When all had finished, Caden stood on shaky legs, walked to Hoover and shook his hand. “Thank you for being a friend.”