The Days of Noah: Book One: Conspiracy (22 page)

The blacksmith went outside and returned seconds later, holding two lengths of half-inch rebar. He proceeded to hammer out the ends on the anvil to create the surface that would be used to hold a metal object in the intense heat. He heated the next section of the metal rod and hammered out an area where the two bars would meet. “I’ll drill this out while it’s still hot. It’s much harder to drill once the metal cools.”

Using an old hand drill, he drilled out a hole in each bar. Then he placed a length of quarter-inch round stock in the holes to connect the two bars and hammered the pin on the anvil so that each side flattened out and secured the two arms of the tongs together. In ten minutes, he’d fashioned the pair of tongs. “These are for you. I hope you’ll put them to good use.” He handed the tongs to Isaiah.

Isaiah took the tongs. “Thank you very much. What do I owe you?”

“Go home and start blacksmithing. That means more to me than money.”

Isaiah nodded. “I will.”

The blacksmith drew on Isaiah’s notebook to show him how to set up a simple forge at home and gave him some notes on getting the fire up to temperature. Isaiah thanked the man again, and the group headed to the chuck wagon, which was serving fried chicken, biscuits, and gravy. Everyone took their food to one of the many picnic tables set up close by for dining.

After lunch, everyone headed over to watch the sorghum being made. A horse was turning a large pole, which was connected to the cane press. A man fed the sorghum cane into the press, which squeezed out a light green liquid. This liquid was poured into a shallow tub with a fire underneath. The tub created a large surface area, so the water could cook out faster. The woman tending the cook tub kept skimming the greenish foam off as the sorghum cooked. Once the desired thickness and dark brown hue was achieved, the sorghum was ready to be bottled. Isaiah made notes on the production process in his notebook.

“Do we eat sorghum, daddy?” Lacy asked.

Noah tousled her hair. “Yes, sweetie, mom uses it for pecan pies. Sometimes I put it on pancakes or even French toast. Folks used to eat it on a biscuit.”

“Can we put some on a biscuit next time we have them?”

“Sure, honey,” Noah said.

Next the group all headed over to the main stage to watch the bluegrass band that was playing.

Isaiah said to Noah, “I have an old banjo that I used to pick at in college.”

“You should pull it out and dust it off.”

Isaiah shook his head. “I could never make it sound like that.”

“It just takes practice.” Noah leaned in close to whisper, “Besides, I hear chicks like musicians.”

Isaiah blushed and looked to make sure Sharon wasn’t within earshot. “Maybe I will have to tune it up.”

Cassie and Becky took the girls over to an area with special activities for kids, while the rest of the group stayed and watched the musical performance.

Everyone enjoyed themselves immensely. The day was soon over, and they all headed home. Lacy and Lynette were worn out. They fell asleep as soon as they got in the minivan.

David dropped the Parkers off at their house. “We’ll see you all on Saturday morning for rifle training, right?”

“We’ll be there. Thanks for everything.” Noah took his cooler and closed the door of the vehicle.

CHAPTER 23

The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.

Psalm 23

Soon after Everett Carroll got settled at his desk Monday morning, Tom Doe walked by his cubicle.

“Everett, this is a get-well card for John Jones. He was admitted to the hospital early this morning. Everyone is just jotting down a few words of encouragement. The office is sending him some flowers.”

Everett fought to hide the pang of emotion that was coming over him. “Oh, sure.”

Everett took a pen and wrote out a short feel-better wish. He handed the card back to Doe and offered a concerned smile.

“Thanks.” Tom Doe returned the obligatory smile, took the card and continued to navigate his route through the catacombs of cubicles.

A deep sorrow rushed through Everett’s stomach. He knew Jones would likely not recover. Everett continued to perform his tasks almost robotically as he thought about his dying friend.
I need to get out of here and go see him. Time may be short.

Everett started going over a few fail-safe excuses to get him out of work early. There were no mission-critical events taking place, and he never left early, so he could afford to take a day, from an office politics point of view.

He texted Courtney and had her call the office number that all employees were to give out as their work-emergency contact number. She was to claim to be his apartment manager and leave a message to inform Everett that there was a broken pipe leaking in his apartment.

The message was soon passed to Tom Doe, who called Everett over the speakerphone. “Everett, your apartment manager just called and said you’ve got water all over your apartment. I’ll split up your task list if you want to take a personal day. You have plenty of time saved up. This is a government job; when it comes to paid time off, it’s use it or lose it.”

Everett picked up the receiver. “No way! Are you sure you’ll be okay without me?”

“Get out of here. We’ve got you covered.”

“Thanks so much, I really appreciate it.” Everett followed the protocol for closing out his task box early, and then headed for the door. He knew that Jones had gone to MedStar Hospital in DC when he’d first had trouble breathing, so Everett assumed that would be where Jones had been admitted this time.

Everett thought, I shouldn’t show up empty-handed, but I know he won’t want flowers. They probably took his chewing tobacco. Maybe I’ll bring him some nicotine gum. If he’s conscious, he’ll probably be wanting a fix.

Everett stopped at the drugstore on his way into DC and picked up two boxes of nicotine gum. He also took a copy of The Weekly Standard for Jones to flip through. He looked at the crossword puzzle books, but decided against it; Jones wasn’t likely to have a lot of energy for doing puzzles.

Rush hour traffic had died down, so Everett arrived at the hospital in less than an hour. He wondered what name Jones was admitted under. He asked for John Jones at reception.

The receptionist said, “Room 305. Can I please have a photo ID? And please sign in on this form.”

Everett presented his driver’s license and signed the form. He handed the pen back to the receptionist and offered a warm smile.

She smiled back. “Follow the hallway to your left, and you’ll find an elevator bank at the end. Take that to the ninth floor. The nurses’ station will be on your right when you arrive. They’ll direct you to the room. Have a nice day.”

“Thanks.” Everett proceeded down the hall. He wasn’t sure what to expect. He didn’t like hospitals or dying or sickness. He steeled himself for whatever the encounter might be like. This wasn’t about having an enjoyable experience; it was about being a friend to someone who’d given so much.

He soon reached Jones’s room. Jones was lying in the bed with an IV attached to his arm, and the ever-present oxygen tubes were inserted in his nose. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing softly. Wires attached to a heart monitor ran beneath the sheets. His skin was pale, and it looked paper thin, as if the least amount of pressure might break it.

How had he deteriorated so quickly?
Everett thought. He took a deep breath and looked for a nurse in the hallway.

“Can I help you?” A slightly overweight woman with a sweet, motherly voice approached Everett.

He looked at her nametag. “Yes, Mrs. Collins? I’m here to see John Jones. He looks like he’s sleeping. I don’t know if I should disturb him.”

She put her hand on Everett’s back. “You can talk to him. He’s on a high-dosage opioid drip, so he may not be very responsive. He was in a lot of pain when he was admitted.”

Everett nodded. “Once the pain is under control, do you think he’ll be released?”

Mrs. Collins looked at Everett with compassion and continued to keep her hand on his back. “It’s not likely that Mr. Jones will be leaving. The doctor thinks he has less than a week. The cancer has spread all over his chest and is in his liver.”

Everett looked at the brightly polished floor, then back up at the nurse. “Does he know?”

She simply nodded.

“Thank you.” Everett walked back into Jones’s room. He stood near the bed and gently took Jones’s hand.

Jones turned his head toward Everett and half opened his eyes. A slight smile came across his face. “Hey there.”

“I brought you some nicotine gum and a magazine.”

“God bless you. They stole my tobacco.” Jones seemed to be coming around. “Push that button on the side of the bed so I can sit up.”

Everett complied with the request. “Is that far enough or should I raise it a little more?”

“That’s perfect.” Jones took the cup from the bedside table and sipped some water through the straw. “Can you open a piece of that nicotine gum for me?”

“Sure.” Everett opened the gum and handed a piece to Jones. “So how is the food here? Would you like me to sneak something in for you?”

Jones popped the gum in his mouth. “It isn’t too bad. I don’t have much of an appetite. Thanks for the offer, but I’m afraid it would be wasted on me. If you have time, though, I’d love a pair of headphones. There’s a drugstore down the street. Nothing fancy, just something to plug into my phone.”

“No problem. I took the day off work, so I have all day. Is it so you can listen to music on your phone?”

“They’re for my phone, but not music. I found a website from some church out in California. The pastor who founded it has passed on, but they still have his sermons available for download. His name was Chuck Smith. Something about the way he speaks. . . it’s very soothing. Listening to him read the Bible really puts me at peace. I’m kind of looking forward to meeting him.”

Everett was glad that Jones had found a source of hope, but he didn’t want to talk about death, nor the afterlife. “California, huh? Do they still allow churches out there?”

Jones smiled. “For now. So how are things with the little NSA girl?”

“Good. She enjoyed meeting you last week.”

Jones looked at Everett. “She seems like a real nice girl. Kind of sassy, but you probably need that. Be sure you tell her I’m sorry that I can’t make it to Thanksgiving. That was very nice of both of you to invite me.”

Everett felt the lump swelling in his throat, but he was determined not to cry. He shook his head. “You don’t know that. You might be around for a while.”

Jones sighed. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I’ve made my peace with God. I’m going to a better place. You, on the other hand, you’re fixin’ to go through the ringer. I couldn’t have timed my exit any better. The masses out there, they’re the ones I feel sorry for. You kids will be okay. You’re smart, so is Courtney, but you’ll need to depend on each other. Tough times create a lot of stress. Be nice to one another even when you feel like you’re about to snap. People are what matters. Take it from someone standing on the precipice of eternity. I wish I would have invested a lot more in people and relationships and less on all the things that seem so useless from where I sit now.”

Everett took in everything Jones was saying. He listened more than he talked. It was difficult for him to come up with conversation at such a time.

Jones picked up the television remote and turned on the news. Everett sat in the chair by the bed and watched silently.

Several minutes later, Jones said, “I can feel the pain medication in my IV. I might nod out for a while. You’re welcome to stay or go. Whatever you decide, I really appreciate you stopping by.”

Everett nodded. “I’ll hang around for a bit.”

Soon, Jones was fast asleep.

Everett pulled the sheet up over Jones’s chest. He decided to walk down the street to buy the headphones. He quickly found a nice set of earbuds at the drugstore.

It was well into the afternoon, and Everett was getting hungry. The hospital was part of the Georgetown University campus, which was less than two miles away from George Washington University where Everett had attended college. He quickly found the familiar campus sandwich shop that catered to students on tight budgets. The shop made fantastic sandwiches for a very fair price. Everett went in and ordered the mozzarella caprese sandwich that he’d often treated himself to in college. The look of the place hadn’t changed much; of course, it hadn’t been that long since he’d been there. The familiar surroundings were comforting. Everett ate his sandwich, but it was hard to enjoy because of his heavy heart. He walked around the campus for a while and took in the cool autumn air. The trees in the green spaces were beautiful hues of gold, orange, and red. Everett thought about how autumn marked the end of the life cycle in nature and how it coincided with the end of his friend’s life.

He finished his tour of the campus and made his way back up to Jones’s room. Jones was still asleep, but the nurse came in to serve dinner. She nudged Jones gently. He eventually came around. “You still here?”

“You said I could stay. I did step out for a while to buy your earbuds. Now you can listen to your lectures.” Even the word sermon made Everett uncomfortable; he wasn’t sure why.

“Thanks. These will be just fine.” Jones opened the earbuds and handed the packaging to Everett to throw away. He set the earbuds down and picked at the food on his tray but didn’t seem interested in it.

The two men looked at the television screen as Jones scrolled through the channels. They chatted here and there, not talking about much and not really paying attention to what was on TV. Everett could tell that Jones was happy to have him there, even if he wasn’t much of a conversationalist at times like this.

Jones eventually fell back asleep. Everett jotted down a short note to tell Jones he would be by the next day after work and headed for the door.

***

The following day Everett pushed himself through his work routine.

At lunch, Everett sat with Ken, as usual, but he let Ken do all the talking. Ken was a wordy fellow, so that required no coaxing on Everett’s part.

Tom Doe passed by his desk after lunch. “Did you get that mess cleaned up?”

“Yes, sir. Thanks for being so accommodating.”

“Well, these things happen.” Doe patted him on the shoulder as he walked away.

Everett tried to stay focused, but the sadness was eating at him. After work, he shot past all of his co-workers to avoid the menial chitchat. Everett thought of hitting a drive-through on the way to the hospital, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he stopped by a deli on Leesburg Pike on the way into DC. He quickly selected cold cuts for a nice sandwich and was soon back on the road. It was rush hour, but Everett was traveling against traffic. Most commuters lived outside of DC and were on their way home.

Everett arrived in just over an hour, even with the congested roads. He signed in and made his way back toward Jones’s room.

He exited the elevator and saw Mrs. Collins at the nurses’ station. “Hi, how’s he doing today?”

Her eyes were filled with compassion. “Not so good, but I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you.”

Everett nodded. “Thanks. Is he awake?”

“Probably not. He’s been out almost all day. The doctor increased his pain medication. He was really hurting last night. But you go on in there. Hold his hand; see if he comes around.”

“Okay.” Everett walked into the room. Jones was sleeping and making a deep gurgling sound. Everett quickly went back to the nurses’ station.

“Mrs. Collins, it sounds like Mr. Jones is choking,” he said frantically.

She stood up. “Calm down. I know it doesn’t sound normal, but it is. We gave him a dose of glycopyrronium. I’ll give him another dose and see if that helps. What you’re hearing is terminal respiratory secretions.”