Outage (Powerless Nation #1) (15 page)

“Oh, um, yeah. I confuse them all the time. Twice yesterday.” His eyes twinkled. “Just tell me one thing – who discovered the mistake first? You or your grandpa?”

Dee thought back to the look on Grandpa's face when he'd put the first bite into his mouth. “He really took one for the team that time,” she said, trying to keep a straight face.

Katy and Sammy were decorating Jasper's white ruff with a chain of braided grass. He sat patiently while they groomed him, but Dee saw him yawn nervously and look for an opportunity to escape. None presented itself, so he gave a sigh and laid down.

“You know what I miss?” said Mason. “Music. Mostly my iPod, but at this point I'd take golden oldies on one of those old-fashioned record players with the big horns.” He turned and teased Angela, “Did you ever have one of those gramophone things, Mrs. Searle?”

Angela calmly turned a page in her book, “I'm too old for those new-fangled music players, sorry.”

Dee smothered a laugh. She was glad to see Mason becoming comfortable enough with the group to joke and tease.

“What kind of music did you used to listen to?” Dee asked him, expecting him to name some blue grass or country bands.

“Have you ever heard of Collective Soul? My mom liked them a lot. We drove down to Spokane once to see them play the county fair.

Dee tried to think if she knew any Collective Soul songs. “Didn't they have one called
Shine
?”

“Yep, that's their big one. Lately I've had a different one stuck in my head. It's called
The World I Know
. I bet you know it. Tell me if you recognize this.” Mason sat up and began to sing.

Mason's voice filled the sunny clearing with a warm richness. Dee felt like she could drift away on the sound, and even Angela set her book aside and closed her eyes.

When he finished he said, “Doesn't it seem to fit? My life is so different than what I thought it would be. Sometimes I don't know if I should laugh or cry.”

Dee thought about everything he'd been through and laid her head on his shoulder. He put an arm around her and continued, “When I'm around you everything’s better. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you.”

“It's not ever going to be the same again though, is it?”

“I don't know if I'd want it to be.” She tilted her head up to look at him. He was gazing at her intently, and for a moment she wondered if he was going to kiss her. Instead he reached for her hand and clipped his emergency bracelet around her wrist.

“Is that okay?” he asked.
 
“Would you want to wear my wristband?
 
I’m sorry it’s not fancier.”

Dee thought her heart would melt.
 
She twisted the paracord around her wrist and thought it was the sweetest thing anyone had ever given her.
 
She was just about to say thank you when she realized she couldn't hear the kids any more. Then a child's scream pierced the air followed by Jasper's frenzied barking.

Angela, Mason and Dee all jumped to their feet and raced toward the sound. Just a few steps into the woods a terrifying scene was poised to play out in front of them. Katy and Sammy stood perfectly still on a deer trail, and less than twelve feet away a huge mountain lion crouched, ready to pounce.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

J
ASPER
WAS
ON
THE
trail between the children and the big cat, lunging at it and barking for all he was worth. Blood dripped from his muzzle where he'd already been the victim of the mountain lion's sharp claws.

Mason had a branch in his hand, and Dee realized he'd torn it right off a tree. He and Angela quickly stepped between the children and the beast, adding a layer of protection. Jasper continued to try to drive off the animal. When he got too close it struck at him again, swift as lightning. The brave dog yelped as the force from the powerful paw knocked him to one side.

Angela had her hands up in front of her face like claws, and Mason slashed the air with the tree branch. They both yelled and growled like animals. Jasper struggled to regain his feet, barking and refusing to take his eyes of the enemy.

Finally, the mountain lion took a step backwards. Mason advanced on it with another great swing of his club, and the big cat turned and ran into the trees. Angela reached to gather the children to her, but Sammy squirmed away and ran to Jasper.

Jasper tried to limp toward the little boy, but couldn't manage it. He stood in the trail, face scratched and left side matted with blood. He gave a feeble wag of his tail when the child reached him, but his strength was quickly draining and he laid down on the trail.

“Oh no, not Jasper,” whispered Dee, hand to her mouth. Then she felt a surge of adrenaline. “We've got to get him home to Grandpa. He'll know what to do.”

Jeremiah and Joseph were back, and they quickly packed up their site while Dee assessed the dog. “Those cuts on his side are pretty bad,” she said. “We need something to stop the bleeding.”

No sooner had she said the words than Sammy had his shirt off and pressed it into her hands. “Here, he can have this.”

Dee took the small, threadbare t-shirt and folded it into a soft bandage which she pressed firmly against the dog's side, and then she and Mason wrapped him up in the large quilt they'd used as a picnic blanket. Angela was anxious to get out of the area in case the big cat came back, so with Mason in the lead carrying Jasper they all hurried along the trail back home.

Jeremiah and Joseph ran ahead to tell Grandpa they were coming. Sammy stayed with Mason, whispering encouraging words to Jasper. At the farm, Grandpa was already waiting in the clinic when they got there, standing in the open doorway and motioning for Mason to bring in the dog.

Dee hadn't been inside the clinic before. It was a converted shed that was partitioned into three areas. There was a tiny reception area at the front with a desk and two chairs where people could wait, and at the back was a storage room with three animal crates on one wall across from a wall of shelves stacked with medical equipment and medicine on the other. A small reach-in refrigerator stood in the corner.

Between the reception area and the storage area was a tiny exam room with a metal table. This was where Grandpa examined Jasper. His eyebrows were drawn down and his mouth was set in a grim line. “Dee, I'm gonna need an extra set of hands. Think you can handle it without passing out?”

Dee nodded, not entirely sure.

“All right, the rest of you need to get back on up to the house and out of my way.” He spoke sternly but his voice softened when he saw Sammy stroking Jasper's head. “You too, son. You can come back and see him in a little while.”

After Mason led the sobbing boy out of the room, Dee helped Grandpa tend to Jasper's injuries. When they shaved the fur from his side, her heart sank as she saw how deep the cuts were.
 

They were using a local anesthetic, so Jasper was awake for the whole thing. He lay quietly on the table and seemed very small to Dee. She looked him in the eyes and told him he was a good dog, then held him still while Grandpa began the long process of stitching up his wounds.

When Grandpa finished, Dee helped him into the house and he sat in his recliner near the woodstove and watched as Mason helped Sammy make a soft bed of blankets for Jasper. Hyrum, who had come down to the house to join them for supper, carried the dog into the house and put him on the bed near the fire. Grandpa told them all that the scratches were deep, but hadn't damaged any of the dog's internal organs, and if they kept the wound clean and free of infection he had a really good chance.

At that moment there was a knock on the door. Jasper made a feeble attempt at a bark and Mason, Hyrum and Dee jumped to their feet. Angela and Grandpa exchanged a nervous glance and then Grandpa went to the closet for his shotgun. He motioned for Hyrum to open the door and stood to one side with the gun ready. Mason had a baseball bat in hand and he went to stand by the window.

Hyrum opened the door a crack and peered out, then opened it wide. “It's Mr. Mortimer,” he said in a relieved tone. To Dee, he explained, “He's our mailman.”

Grandpa greeted the thin, balding man with a firm handshake. “Come on in, Morty. It's good to see you.”

Dee saw that his postal uniform hung loosely on him, and she guessed he'd once been quite a bit larger. She'd lost weight herself. She wasn't rail-thin like Mason and Sammy, but her only pair of jeans had once been snug and now she needed a belt to keep them from falling down.

While the mailman made himself comfortable by the fire, Dee brewed him some coffee. As the smell wafted into the room, Morty sat up straight and sniffed the air. “Don't tell me you folks still have coffee.” When Dee brought him a cup of the hot drink and offered him cream or sugar he pretended to swoon and said, “I think I've died and gone to heaven.”

“What's the news, Morty?” said Grandpa. “We haven't seen hide nor hair of anyone for months.”

“It's not good Milton,” he replied with a glance at the children.

Angela told Joseph to take the two younger children upstairs and keep them busy with a puzzle. Once they left, Morty went on in a subdued voice.

“More than a third of the folks in town are dead, and more dyin' every day.”

“I was afraid of that,” said Grandpa in a grim tone. “These kids were there a couple of weeks after the power went out and it was already bad.”

“I believe it,” said Morty. “It started with the water. It quit running the first day and people just drank whatever they could find. Wasn't long before they got the runs and whatever else you get from drinking fouled water.”

“Probably cholera,” Grandpa said.

Morty nodded. “There ain't no one hauling trash any more, no water and no sewage. A lot of people are too sick to even bury their dead. The streets are a disgusting mess and it's spreading through what water there is, so... you can imagine,” he finished.

“Is anyone in charge down there?” asked Angela.

“Not so much anymore. The police and fire departments teamed up at first. Sheriff and his folks patrolled the streets while the fire chief kept up roadblocks. It didn't help none though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Even with the curfews and road blocks, people were still robbin' each other, stealing food for themselves and their kids. Desperation changes people. It wouldn't have gotten so bad so fast, but early on a gang formed up. They broke into homes and stole whatever food they could get their hands on. If someone was lucky enough to pull through the sickness, chances are they woke up just to starve.”

“Who would do that?” said Angela, horrified.

“I wish I knew,” said Morty, “but you folks need to be ready to defend yourselves. I've heard they're raiding houses and farms outside town now too.”

“How many are there?” asked Mason, “and how much firepower are they packing?”

“That's the strange thing,” said the mail carrier. “I don't think they ever just outright attack, and they ain't hardly killed no one either. They sneak in, take the food, and sneak out. Somehow they always know right where to look for it.”

Mason interrupted, “Is my step-dad still alive?”

Morty nodded, “I don't know what we would've done without Hank. He's been going around to folks, teaching them to boil water, giving out food and medicine when he can. I've seen him walking the streets at night trying to enforce the curfew on his own. He gives folks hope.”

Mason snorted and all eyes turned to him, “Are you sure we’re talking about the same guy? Sounds like he’s pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes. If he’s helping out that must mean there’s something in it for him.”

“I heard about the trouble you had with him a few months back, but he’s not the same man. He really cares about people.” Morty seemed sincere.

“He can play nice when he has to, but it won’t last. All he cares about is himself.” Mason’s face was a cold mask.

 
“So what brings you out here?” Grandpa asked, changing the subject. “Don't tell me it's all bad news.”

“Nope, you'll like this. I got word up from Spokane that they're trying to get the mail started again. It's going to be a lot slower than it used to be, obviously. The term 'Snail Mail' finally fits.” Morty chuckled at his own joke then continued. “No packages, nothing heavy. No stamps either,” he added, and his eyes gleamed. “But if you have something to donate to your mail carrier, it's appreciated.”

“Of course, of course, Morty,” said Grandpa. “I would have invited you to stay for supper anyway. I hope you will. That'll give us a few minutes to write some letters, and then we'll send you on your way with a full stomach and something for the road.”

The mailman sniffed the air and said, “Don't mind if I do. I haven't smelled something that good in I don't know how long. If I don't miss my guess, that's chicken noodle soup.”

Angela got up to check the pot that was simmering on the woodstove and Morty joined her and offered to stir it. “I can't remember the last time I saw noodles, or chicken for that matter.” He brought the spoon to his lips and took a sip. “I could die happy now,” he said, putting the spoon back into the pot, “and I’ve got just the thing to go with it. When I told Hank I was going out to let folks know about the mail, he gave me a sack of flour and told me to make something I could take around to people.” Morty opened a bag and pulled out some flat, round disks. “So I made crackers. Nothing but flour and water.” Grandpa made a sound of dismay and Morty added, “
clean
water. I boiled it myself.”

Mason looked ready to object, but Angela put a hand on his arm and said, “They’ll be perfect with the soup, like matzo crackers. Jeremiah, go set an extra place at the table for Mr. Mortimer, and we'll eat.”

“He can have my spot,” came a little voice. It was Sammy. “Can I just stay here with Jasper for dinner? I'm not very hungry.”

Angela looked at Mason to see if he minded and then nodded. “Sure honey. I know he'll like that.”

The sight of the little boy keeping watch over his wounded dog was enough to break Dee’s heart. Sammy’d had enough loss in his life. She willed Jasper to get better.