Dust (14 page)

“What?” he asked shocked. “Yes. I can’t believe ... ” Suddenly Burke sprang to his feet and took a step forward.

“Burke.”

“Shh.” He told me, then raised his shotgun and pumped the chamber. “Stop!” he hollered. “Stop or I’ll shoot.”

Burke held his aim steady, but I couldn’t see the recipient.

A male voice responded composed, “I’m not here for trouble. I’m ... I’m looking for a woman named Jo.”

“Who are you?” Burke asked.

“My name is Tanner Niles. I’m a doctor. I saw her today at the rescue station.”

“Jo?” Burke whispered my name. “Know him?”

I peeked around Burke and saw the doctor. “Yeah, I recognize him.”

Burke lowered his weapon.

Tanner moved toward us.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Looking for you.” Tanner replied. “I felt bad. Really bad about what happened today. I’m not usually like that. I was overwhelmed. I would have been here sooner, I wanted to come sooner, but this was the first break I could get. And it really took some effort to get information from your neighbor about finding you.” The left side of his mouth lifted in a partial smile.

“You came all the way up here to apologize?” I was puzzled.

“Well, yes, but not only for that reason. I came here to do what I should have done earlier. Help you.” He extended his hand to me. “Here. This is what you wanted.” His fingers wrapped around a small bottle.

I didn’t reach.

“It’s Ok.” He nodded. “Take them. It’s penicillin. I can even check on your husband if you want.”

“Dr. Niles ... ”

“Tanner.” He corrected.

“Dr. Niles.” I found the words difficult to speak. Reaching out, I gently pushed his hand away. “I’m sorry you came all the way here. My husband ... he died.”

Tanner retracted his hand causing the pills to rattle within the bottle. He didn’t say anything. Mouth closed tightly, his eyes shifted from me to Burke. He gave a single, solemn nod, then Tanner Niles, turned and walked away. Never looking back at us, he kept moving up the dark street, in a slow, steady pace, until the blackness engulfed him and he was no longer seen.

15. Accounted For
 

Acceptable became a word associated with the past. Too many things had changed, and nothing would ever be done the same again. I wanted to give Sam a Native American send off, setting his physical being aflame, allowing for his spirit to be free and rise to the heavens with the release of the smoke. However, the spiritual smoke signal would be a detrimental signal, alerting wanderers and looters that an isolated camp of survivors existed. Plus, with an increased risk of infection and disease, we had to place Sam in the ground immediately following his passing.

We needed a send-off, a goodbye, and we gave him one. The following morning we all stood around where we had buried Sam—all but Tammy, who had yet to return from the search for her son. Each of us said a few words about Sam. We ended it with a small prayer service. None of us were particularly religious people, so Dan officiated the ceremony. Not because he was a staunch Catholic, but for nine weeks he played the role of a Catholic priest in a local theater production, so Dan knew the prayer service by heart.

“For with the Lord there is merciful and plentiful redemption ... ” Dan recited the prayer, “And he shall redeem Israel from all iniquities. Eternal rest grant upon him, oh, Lord ... ”

Burke and I were the only ones who chanted the response of, ‘And let your perpetual light shine upon him.’

“May his soul and all the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God ... rest in peace.” Dan released a long, soft sigh and bowed his head. “Amen.”

It worked. Real prayers or acting, it served a purpose and brought a sense of ‘pre bomb’ funeral that we all needed at that very moment.

With solace we departed Sam’s grave. I held on to my children, and Simon, and led the pack. Admittedly I did have to smile when I heard Rod comment to Dan on how beautiful of a service he delivered. We all returned to the shelter. Not Burke. He wanted to ‘check on something’ as he put it, and would return in fifteen minutes. What he was up to, we didn’t know.

I was looking at my ‘I’ll be there’ list when Burke returned. Examining the names, the two that remained missing. I hated to do it, but it was necessary. I put next to Sam’s name, the day that he passed away.

“OK, here’s the deal,” Burke announced. “Jo, can I have you over here?”

I mumbled, a ‘huh?’ then looked over my shoulder, Burke had gathered everyone around. Even the kids sat on the floor listening. I don’t know how I missed his first calling. Deep in thought, I suppose. Closing my notebook, I walked over and joined them. “Sorry.” I sat next to Davy.

Burke continued, “Tomorrow marks two weeks since the bombs. Now we all know Jo has preached to us to wait out the two weeks. So I’m hoping that Hebba is following that rule somewhere. Tammy’s kid, too. What I want to do is give it one more week. One week for Hebba and Mona, even though I think she’s toast. One week, then we follow the plan. We go to the cabin and leave a note here for anyone that shows up. Now, in the meantime, things are crowded here. So, I want to use Jo’s plan and move us all over to Mark’s house. Live there, make this a central station for supplies, and use the week to get things ready for the move.”

Craig raised his hand. “Is Mark’s basement big enough?”

Burke chuckled. “His house is huge. His basement is decked out. No offense Jo, but this is a basement. Plus, the radiation levels are low now, if they fall even more, there’s no reason we should have to stay underground. Jo, what do you think?”

I didn’t feel much like talking, thinking, or planning. My mind was full yet empty all in the same breath. I learned very quickly that all the planning in the world doesn’t prepare you for the emotional trauma suffered when something goes wrong. I nodded to Burke. That was my agreement and the best I could do. My mind slipped into what I called ‘connect the dot’ thoughts. Random pictures, words, memories that somehow from a distance formed a picture, but to put them together to make sense, took far too much effort. With a half ear I listened to Burke. Mainly I shut out most of what he said because he kept mentioning ‘Jo’s plan’. Suddenly everything I detailed on the pages of a notebook seemed foreign, as if I never derived any of it. In fact, I wished that Burke would stop referring to it as my plan, because it wasn’t. Not anymore. My plan never included the bombs actually falling, or people not showing up. And my plan certainly didn’t include Sam dying. If it were my plan I wouldn’t be sitting in my basement or living in a world that would be no less than a nightmare for the rest of my life.

***

Never did it dawn on me. Not once. If it hadn’t been for inquisitive Simon, I may have realized my error too late. A simple conversation entailed between Simon and Davy while they organized the rations once again. I sat with Matty who drew a picture, and I seesawed between her art and eavesdropping on the boys.

“Tomorrow?” Simon asked.

“No, Simon,” Davy answered sadly. “Not tomorrow or the next day. Sam is not coming back.”

“Like my dad?”

“Your dad is lost,” Davy explained. “Remember how I told you about Sam. Sam died, Simon. Like your hamster.”

“I liked my hamster.”

“Me, too.”

“I liked Sam,” Simon said.

I watched Davy pause in his counting, and look at Simon. “Me, too.”

“Davy,” I called him, maybe to see if he needed a rescue from the conversation. “Do you want me to read to Simon?”

Davy shook his head. “No, we’re fine. Right buddy?”

“Yeah.” Simon nodded. “But sad. Sam was sick, huh?”

“Yes,” Davy answered.

Then he did it. Simon asked that one innocent question. “Did he die because he didn’t get his pill?”

Before Davy answered, my head lifted, my eyes widened, and I whispered out in revelation, “Oh, my God.”

“Mom?” Davy questioned my reaction.

“Davy, watch Matty for me.” I kissed my daughter, told her that I would be back, and then I stood up.

“Mom, where are you going?” Davy asked.

I stopped in my reach for the curtain. “There’s something I want ... .no, something I need to do.”

I departed from the partitioned area giving no explanation to Davy. Undoubtedly I left my son puzzled, but Simon would divert that curiosity. I told Burke my intentions and what I had to do. He told me bluntly, ‘let it go’ it wasn’t worth it. But to me it was. It had to be done, even if it was only for my peace of mind.

***

“Tell me again,” Rod spoke as we walked. “Why are we going to the rescue station? You hated it there.”

“Because I have to. Leave it at that. We’re almost there.”

“I don’t see any people.”

“That’s because we’re going in the back way,” I said.

“Why do you have me doing the masculine job of protecting you?” Rod asked. “Really, Jo, Burke would have been the better choice.”

“It was either you protecting my life, or protecting the life of my kids.”

Rod nodded. “You have a point. Jo, will this be a horrible experience. Lots of death? Sick people.”

“Of course.” Recognizing a landmark, I gained confidence that we were almost there. “It’s right through ... ” I stopped and looked. Rod wasn’t with me. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw him a few feet behind me reaching into his fanny pack. “What are you doing?” I asked and walked to him.

“I need a Valium.”

“Don’t take a valium.” I pulled his hand away from his bag. “You may need them later, then what? You’ll be out.”

“You’re right. What about a Prozac instead?”

“No drugs.” I lifted my hand in a halt manner. “This is it. Listen.”

“I’m too busy smelling that God awful smell.” His hand covered his nose.

“Why don’t you wait here? It’s right through these trees.” I pointed. “Unless you want to come.”

Muffled, Rod spoke while his hand still covered his nose and mouth. “No, go on, I’ll wait for them to throw you back out.”

I gave him a disgruntled look before heading into the rescue station area. Being caught, stopped, or even thrown out wasn’t a concern of mine. I believed I wouldn’t be noticed, and I was right. Given that my composure was such that I knew exactly where I was going and what I was doing, no one said anything, or paid any attention to the fact that I walked right in.

Tent three was my starting point. I found it with ease since it was the closest tent to the back door area. Knowing that sneaking in the side of the tent would draw notice to me, I walked around to the front. When I did, I bodily paused. There was something about the sight of it all that was breathtaking in a negative way. So many people, that one couldn’t even begin to keep track of them all. The mass confusion of the rescue station was still predominant, but somehow not as bad as the day before. Continuing on my mission, I reached for the flap, it was then that I spotted my true destination going into the next tent. So I followed him.

Dr. Tanner Niles.

I slipped unnoticed beyond any soldiers, and walked into the tent. It didn’t take much scanning around to find him; he was at the medication table. Something was different about Tanner. He didn’t look as frazzled, or work with as much haste.

He stared at a clipboard as he moved from the medication table and blindly made his way through the cots. From the opposite end, I walked up the same aisle as he, hoping Tanner would spot me somewhere in his journey. When he paused at a cot and lowered his clipboard, he did. He titled his head in question as I continued to head his way.