Charlie's Requiem Novella (7 page)

Chapter 10

Day 2

Charlie

Kirkman Specialty Clinic

About 6 a.m. the next morning I had had enough of my tossing and turning. Most of the people still slumbered, and the morning sun had not yet risen. I got up and found Dr. Kramer in the break room, making a large pot of coffee in an old percolator. I saddled up next to him and found two clean mugs. I knew where most of the utensils were stored given the multiple lunches I had brought on my frequent sales calls to the office. We both worked in silence as we reflected on the situation and unsuccessfully sought a solution to our predicament. It’s very calming preparing your morning cup of coffee, almost Zen-like.

We sat down at the table and enjoyed our cup of java. After a minute of welcome silence, he put his mug down and we began to speak.

“Do you have any other clothes?” He asked.

“I have my workout clothes in my backseat,” I cautiously replied. “Why?”

“Do you have gym shoes as well?”

“Well, yeah! They’re running shoes.” I said. “I usually hit the gym on my way home. But why are you worried about that?”

“I think you’ll need those shoes, and your workout clothes. I think we can even scrounge up some scrubs for you.”

“Whoa!” I said. “I’m not staying here that long.”

“You may not have a choice,” he flatly replied. “I haven’t heard a single siren or other emergency vehicle all night. Have you?”

“Come to think of it,” I said back. “No. No I haven’t.”

“Then it’s worse than a local problem. It has to be at least city-wide or greater.”

He got up and refilled his mug, adding a bit of sugar and powdered creamer before returning to the table.

“Charlie,” he started. “Let me tell you what’s going to happen over the next few weeks.”

I started to interrupt him, fully intent on setting him straight. I was not going to stay here that long. No way! No how! But before I could get a word in, he held up his hand to shush me. He was Dr. Kramer, so I shut up and listened.

“Charlie, the world as you know it is going to fall apart. And I don’t mean fall apart like a hurricane or tornado hit us. I mean, fall apart like the world is going to end.”

I couldn’t believe what he was saying. If it had been anyone but him, I would have left the table and never come back, writing him off as a quack. But his eyes and demeanor told me that he wasn’t fooling around. He was dead serious, and I held his gaze and just kept quiet.

“Do you have any place to go that is safe? Before you answer that, I mean safely away from the city or other large crowds of people.”

I thought of all my relatives and friends. I tried to think of someone that lived in a rural area, maybe on a farm or in the country. I came up blank.

“Not really, doctor.” I replied. “My father lives in Maitland and my mom is in Tampa. All my friends live downtown or in Baldwin Park.”

“Hmmm,” he said. “We’ll have to think on this a bit.”

We heard a sound outside the door and Janice shuffled in and joined us.

“Can you spare some coffee?” She asked.

“You know you don’t need to ask,” he replied.

Janice poured herself a large mug of coffee, added a yellow pack of sweetener and plopped next to me at the table. We waited for her to take a couple of sips before we started back into the conversation.

“I want you both to understand what we are facing here,” he began again. “We are looking at months or possibly years without power.”

Janice and I both looked at each other. What he was saying was unfathomable. How could he be so certain?

“You both know I was in the Air Force, right?”

We nodded our heads in unison.

“I have some experience with this scenario. We were trained on the potential effects of an EMP attack. Now I’m not saying there has been an attack on the United States,” he continued, “but regardless of the cause, the results are the same.”

“If what I remember is correct, it may take months or years to re-establish electric power and normal utilities. Large population centers like Orlando are not going to fare well. When people run out of food and water, they will go searching, and with no police, it’s going to get ugly.”

I shuddered at his words, and hesitated to ask the next obvious question but Janice beat me to it.

“How bad is it going to get?” She asked.

“As bad as you can imagine,” he replied. “And worse.”

We sat silently for a minute, neither Janice nor I could comprehend what he was saying.

“Janice,” he continued. “Do you have any friends or relatives that live outside Orlando? Preferably in a rural or farm setting?”

“Well,” she replied. “My sister lives in DeLand. It’s not really farm country, but she and her husband have a home on about five acres of land out east of the town. It’s pretty isolated.”

“Good,” he exclaimed. “Then you need to get there when the time comes.”

“How will we get there?” She asked. “My car doesn’t work and there are no busses running to DeLand. Heck, there isn’t anything running at all.”

“You’re going to have to walk,” he simply stated. “Unless you have a bike, then you can ride there.”

“You’re kidding!” She said. “You’re pulling my leg.”

“I wish I was,” he replied. “In fact, I want you to be able to leave on a moment’s notice. That’s why I had you pick up some backpacks yesterday. You’ll need them.”

“This is just ridiculous,” she shot back. “There’s no way I can walk 35 miles to my sister’s house. It would take days.”

“Possibly,” he replied. “But if I’m right, you won’t have much of a choice.”

“I don’t know,” I interjected. “I run at least five miles a day. If you walked at a good pace you could be there in just over 24 hours.”

“That brings up my next suggestion,” he said. “Do you think you could take Charlie with you? It would be best if you travelled as a pair.”

“I don’t want to leave here,” Janice finally confessed. “We have electricity and food. Why should I leave?”

“Because,” he stated, “It’s going to get violent soon. Very violent. People will turn on each other when they have nothing to eat. Most of the stores in the area only carry a two or three-day supply of food. When people realize that the government isn’t coming to the rescue, they will do what they must to feed themselves and their families. Once the stores are cleared out, there will be rioting and a lot of violence. Worse of all, criminals will realize that the police won’t be around. There’s nothing stopping them from committing any crime they want, no matter how atrocious or vile. You don’t want to be here when that happens.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

“I don’t have any choice,” he replied. “I have to stay here. I have almost a dozen patients that need to be taken care of. If I leave, they have no chance.”

“But if what you’re saying is true,” I countered, “if you stay, you will die.”

“Possibly,” he simply stated. “But I can’t leave them here alone. It’s not who I am. I will stay until we are rescued or I’m no longer needed.”

The implication that he would stay until the patients had expired shook me to the bone. What kind of man would stay and risk his life on such a hopeless cause?
He would
,
I thought as I stared back at this amazing man. Right then, I decided to stay as long as I could help. Looking over at Janice, I saw the same determined look in her eyes too.

“I’m staying,” I said. “And I think Janice is with me on this as well.”

“Ditto, here.” She replied. “I’m single too. My sister is the only one in the area.”

Dr. Kramer tried to argue with us, but we simply excused ourselves from the table and went out to the reception area where our guests had begun to rise. We helped many to their feet, most of the patients being elderly and a couple of them rather weak. I counted 11 patients and 7 staff members, including Janice and me.

I went back to my car and retrieved my gym bag. I brought it back into the office and got out of my business suit. I changed into a borrowed set of scrubs and put on my running shoes. I felt a lot better getting out of my heels and into something comfortable. It helped my attitude greatly just having something comfy on my feet.

Dr. Kramer brought a fresh pot of coffee and a pitcher of water along with some breakfast items we had purchased the day before. After feeding our patients and arranging for their bathroom needs, he cornered the two of us.

“I know I can’t make you leave,” he said. “But I need you to plan on leaving quickly when the time arises. I need you to bring a backpack for each of you and meet me in my office in fifteen minutes.”

He turned and beat a path down the hall before we could ask any questions. Fifteen minutes later, we entered his office and found him in a new set of scrubs with freshly washed hair.

“I have a shower in my private bathroom,” he stated. “I want you to set up a schedule for the patients and staff to use the shower until the water shuts down. It won’t matter how much we use now, we’re a drop in the bucket compared to the hotels nearby. Please do that after we finish our conversation.”

He grabbed our backpacks and we went into the break room. He opened our backpacks and began to fill it with bottled water and some of the food we got the day before.

“I want you to keep these packs in my office closet. After we fill them with food and water, I want you to get a spare set of scrubs and add them to the pack. I also want to set up a small medical pack.”

He put six water bottles on the bottom of the pack and began to stuff dried food into it as well. He left out the canned goods to reduce the pack’s weight.

“I figure you will each need a minimum of 2500 calories a day if you’re walking and carrying some weight. I’ve loaded enough dried fruit, nuts and power bars for four days in each pack. There are a few pouches of Gatorade in there as well. Now let’s see about making up a small med kit. Also, if you need it, grab any feminine product and a roll of toilet paper.”

We raided the office’s supply cabinet as well as some of the OTC purchases from the day before. Needless to say, after combining medications into one or two bottles, we had quite a pharmacy stuffed into a side pouch of the backpacks. Tylenol, Advil and Antibiotic ointments for cuts and scrapes. Gauze and other first aid items were encased in a Ziploc bag as well. We added a cheap flashlight we had picked up at Publix, and some baby wipes we had also bought. The grocery list was starting to make more sense.

Dr. Kramer left us, so we took the opportunity to find another set of scrubs that we could take as well. When he returned, he handed each of us two bottles. One was a sample bottle of Valium, the other a similar bottle of hydrocodone. Both contained five pills.

“What do we need these for?” I asked. “This is so illegal.”

“I don’t expect you will need them for yourselves. But you might find them useful if the need arises.”

“What kind of need?” I asked, not understanding such a cryptic statement.

“For trade,” he simply replied. “They might just save your life.”

Janice and I looked at each other with an even deeper sense of fear. If Dr. Kramer was willing to risk his license, and possible jail time to give us these drugs, it was serious.

Dr. Kramer saw our expressions and gripped us both by our shoulders.

“Sorry for the bad pun I’m about to use,” the cardiologist said. “But I’m as serious as a heart attack. You might need them in exchange for your freedom, or even your life.”

I didn’t know what to say. I was in shock, at least I thought I was until he asked one more question.

“Do either of you have a gun?”

Holy mother of God!

Chapter 11

Day 2

33
rd
Street Jail

“GUARD!” Taurus bellowed.

The corrections officer ignored the screams coming from the holding cell. All hell had broken loose when the power went out the prior night. Emergency lighting from the exit signs had provided some help for the first hour and a half, but those eventually died. With the air conditioning down, the jail became a giant sauna. Air failed to move and the body heat of over 4000 inmates sat stagnant within its walls. The oxygen in the building felt like it was being sucked away, making the guards and their charges even more uncomfortable. By morning, 12 of the inmates had passed out due to heat exhaustion.

Michael James Jones had become a corrections officer after high school. He was entering his third year with the Orange County Department of Corrections and until last night, had mostly enjoyed his job. Despite his youth (he was just 21 years old), he engendered a lot of respect from the prisoners. At almost six and a half feet tall, he towered over all but a rare few of the inmates and combined with heavy weight lifting, he presented a terrifying sight. He ignored Taurus’ screams and turned to an approaching colleague.

“Hey Mikey!” One of the guards called out. “The warden’s calling everyone into the cafeteria.”

“Who’s gonna keep an eye on these guys?”

“Captain says not to worry about it. Says were going to meet and figure out what to do with them all.” The guard replied.

Jones shook his head and began to follow his coworker. As he strode down the hall, the prisoners became even more enraged. The only light in the hallway was coming from the officer’s flashlight. He had already changed the batteries once using his personal penlight to put three new D-batteries into the Maglite flashlight. He used up the remainder of the batteries’ life the night before using the high-beam setting to give the prisoners in his section as much light as possible. Now, he had the flashlight on economy mode. The 3D-battery flashlight should last over 100 hours on this setting, but the light it generated was a fraction of the high beam.

“Man, the power’s been out for hours. What time is it? My phone died yesterday.” Jones said.

“Mine too,” his friend replied. “That’s what the captain wants to talk about. It’s spooky. Everyone’s phones are dead. It doesn’t make sense.”

Some of the holding cells were small rooms with a solid steel door and shatterproof glass. Those had housed some of the more violent criminals. Late last night, they had been transferred into the common holding cells that had open bars which allowed air flow. Already, there had been several fights that had sent three inmates to the infirmary. They would live but all had multiple fractures. Leaving the prisoners packed into the cells didn’t sit right with Jones, but with the power having been off for over 12 hours, nothing was sitting right with him at this point.

They made their way through various corridors and through locked doors that were now being manned by guards with keys rather than the electronic controlled locks. Each door had three corrections officers. All three carried live ammunition in their 9mm Smith and Wesson handguns as well as one officer carrying a Remington 870 pump action shotgun. Emergency lanterns sat on the floor and weapon mounted flashlights searched the hallway behind Jones for anyone who might not belong there. It was old school security now.

The two corrections officers made their way to the cafeteria and found a bench to sit on. Before they could finish greeting their fellow officers, the captain stepped on top of a table and began his speech.

“Gentlemen and ladies,” he began. “This is no ordinary power outage.”

And from there, it only got worse. Jones learned of the total loss of all electronics. Several officers had made their way outside and witnessed the shutdown of the city. Reports of aircraft falling from the sky and the lack of response by emergency personal anywhere reinforced the magnitude of the crisis.

“Our problem now is that we are losing our ability to keep the prisoners in their cells. Besides the obvious lack of air conditioning, the muffin monster is not functioning and we have sewage backups on the first floor.”

“What’s the muffin monster?” Jones whispered.

“It’s the sewage grinder,” one of the other officers whispered back. “When they send the piss and shit into the sewer system, it goes through a sewage grinder before its put into the city pipes. If the electricity stops, a backup generator kicks in. If that doesn’t work, the crap backs up and comes back out the toilets and drains.”

The captain continued to drone on and on, but the few salient points Jones picked up were simple and frightening. First, the power may not come back on for a long time, possibly weeks or months. Second, the prisoners were going to have to be let out of their cells and held outside the jail, but inside the double fence that surrounds the building. The captain didn’t get into the details of the transfer, other than to say that all guards were to stay on duty until relief arrived. When that was, nobody knew.

Jones did some mental calculations as he made his way back to his post. It was already closing in on breakfast and getting light outside but no one had mentioned feeding the guards, let alone the prisoners. How 4000 criminals were to be guarded by a few hundred guards was beyond his paygrade. It didn’t seem possible, but that was the brass’ problem, not his.
My problem
, Jones thought,
is to stay alive
… and maybe find something to eat.

Captain Braddock stepped down from the table and strode back to the administrative side of the building. Two of the judges, Judges Bender and Hernandez had been stuck in the jail since yesterday afternoon. Both had been in the middle of arraignment hearings when the power died and both sat with open shirts and no shoes, trying to stay as cool as possible in the stifling heat.

“I don’t see that we have a lot of choices here,” Bender said to the room. “If this goes on for more than a few days, we’ll have to let as many of the non-violent prisoners go as we can.”

“I think we’re jumping the gun a bit,” Judge Hernandez replied.

“I wish we were,” Captain Braddock retorted. “We’ve been through this already. There are no emergency protocols for this type of situation. We’ve most likely been hit with an EMP, and with the lack of anything electronic working at all, we have to prepare for the worse.”

“We have printed records of the inmates and over 4000 of these records to go through.” Bender said. “We need to start now and organize the prisoners into groups that can be processed if we have to start releasing them. It’ll take several days to figure out who we can release and who we need to keep. We have to start now if we are going to be in any shape to make an informed decision. We have 48 hours to move the non-violent prisoners out and deal with the rest.”

“Why 48 hours?” Braddock asked.

“While you were giving your little pep talk,” Bender said. “We got word from the kitchen that we only have enough food for a week. If this thing goes on, we have to save as much of the food as we can for the guards and the worse of the prisoners that must stay incarcerated.”

“I get it. If we can release the drug offenders and other non-violent prisoners,” Hernandez continued, “we can stretch our supplies for a lot longer.”

“This is impossible,” Braddock shot back. “Where’s the state government? Why hasn’t the Sheriff done anything? What the hell is taking so long to fix things?”

“Captain,” Judge Bender said with a slow shake of the head. “It may never get fixed.”