Storm Tide Rising: Blackout Volume 2 (45 page)

After a moment, Mike climbed wearily to his feet and began pacing the hallway again, but much slower this time, allowing his tired muscles to slowly wind themselves down.

**

Alyssa was seated with Maria and Cheryl at the end of the hallway where Mike had collapsed for a moment. As Alyssa watched him drag himself back down the hall, Arthur walking along beside him but not even trying to share any of the burden, she ground her teeth and huffed a heavy sigh. The other two women were discussing a recipe for rabbit that apparently both knew, though one had originally used it for chicken, and the other for turkey. Somehow, though Alyssa couldn't figure out how, that difference was significant.

She huffed again but a little louder this time, and she added an exaggerated eye roll to it.

"Is something wrong?"  Maria growled, finally. She never could stand up long to Alyssa's needling.

Alyssa shrugged slightly. "I just hope Mike doesn't walk himself to death on the first day, is all. I don't want him laid up in the bed for the next four or five days too sore and stiff to move. That ain't gonna do anyone any good and it'll just make him hurt more now."

By the end, Alyssa sounded genuinely angry, and the force of her words caught Maria and Cheryl both by surprise at first but, after a brief, stunned silence, Cheryl's face set in a grim frown. "Ma'am, I don't mean any disrespect," she said, biting off each word, "but my husband is a good man and wouldn't hurt someone just to hurt them. Now it's plain as day to anyone and everyone who sees you looking at that young man what you feel for him. Plain to everyone but him I'd bet, anyway. Still, that doesn't give you the right to throw accusations like that around."

This time it was Alyssa's turn to sit with her mouth open and staring. After a heartbeat, her teeth clicked as she closed her mouth. Alyssa looked like she was going to explode, but suddenly the air went out of her, and she just looked worried and exhausted.

"I'm scared," she admitted softly. "I know you and your husband want to help and all. I'm just worried about Mike, and when I get worried or scared about something I lash out. It's my coping mechanism."

Maria shook her head and tsked through her teeth. "Yeah, sis here always has had quite a temper."

"Hey, short stuff," Alyssa grumbled, pushing lightly at Maria, "don't forget who the older sister is here."

Maria stuck her tongue out but didn't say anything. They let the subject drop there, a few feathers ruffled and now soothed back again on both sides. Still, Alyssa watched Mike as he shuffled down the hall, and she couldn't help but worry and wonder just how long it would be before he was really back on his feet again.

**

Mike made the turn to his right at the end of the small hallway. He could hear Alyssa behind him, grumbling, but he ignored it. His legs were tired and they ached, but the pain wasn't unbearable, yet. His back hurt more than his legs, which surprised him. Each step sent sharp filaments of pain lancing up through his hips and into his lower back. Halfway down the hallway, he leaned lightly against the wall, and Arthur stepped up to help him, but Mike shook his head.

"I gotta build my strength, right?"  Mike asked, and Arthur nodded. "I can push through the pain; just give me a minute."

Arthur stepped back reluctantly. "If you feel like you're going to fall," he said quietly, "you have to let me know. If you hit the floor hard in your state, you could hurt yourself badly, and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be able to patch you up. Understand?"

Mike nodded. "I know you're looking out for me, doc," he said, and with a grunt, he pushed off the wall. "I've cowboyed up through pain a lot worse than this before, and I made it through okay. That kind of thing teaches you something about yourself that's hard to forget."

"Military?"  Arthur asked.

Mike lifted the side of his shirt and showed Arthur the tattoo on the left side of his rib cage. A black anchor formed by two scythes joined at the handles, their blades making the classic "U" shape for the anchor itself. A skeletal hand and arm grasped the handles, and ribbon crossed the shape with the letters "USCG" in elegant old world script.

"I was a Coast Guard rescue swimmer," Mike said. "Seems like that was forever ago now, though. Like it was a whole different world, different me, different everything. I always dreamt of going up and being a rescue swimmer in Alaska, but I got stationed on the gulf coast. Hurricane watch, which is really just lots of intense training followed by brief but absolutely chaotic live action."

Arthur nodded. "I had a brother who joined the Marines right out of high school," he said. "Where did the tattoo come from? I don't think I've ever seen anything like it."

Mike smiled. "I drew it myself. The only thing I've ever drawn that looked anything like what I pictured in my head. I got it done right after Hurricane Katrina hit. From the time that storm made landfall, we worked for days straight with no sleep, barely any food. The swimmers and flight crews would run from one helicopter that was running out of fuel and get immediately in one that was being warmed up for flight. Eventually, we had to start rotating in shifts, but in those first few days, we were all working all the time."

Mike reached the end of the hallway and turned around. The pain in his back was easing a little, and his legs were definitely not as shaky. He still hurt, but the pain was manageable now. Talking about his time in the Coast Guard was difficult, and something he didn't do often, but it was helping keep his mind off the pain in his hips and back, so he took a deep breath and continued.

"We pulled a lot of people right out of death's hands," he said, letting his shirt drop again. "But there were a lot of people we couldn't save. I got one call where a father and son were trapped in a tree in the middle of a fast flow that was carrying away cars and dumpsters and stuff. I mean this was deep, fast water like a river through the city or something. This guy's holding onto the branches with one arm, and helping his twelve year old son with the other. As soon as I get within arms' reach of him, he pushes his son at me and yells for me to take him cause he can't hold on for much longer.

"I got the kid, swam back out to the cage, rolled us both into it, and started up. I had to ride with the kid because he was so young and exhausted, he could have been tipped out if our pilot had to make a sudden move due to the winds. I got about a third of the way up, heard this cracking sound, and looked back to the tree where the kids father had been. A car had torn a hole through the branches of the tree and was riding the current down the street half submerged. The kid's father was just gone."

Mike was quiet for a moment, his eyes haunted by memories he hadn't brought out in a long time. "I couldn't bail out of the box half way up with the kid," he said, "and by the time we got him in the HELO, even the car was gone. We looked as long as we could, but our fuel was already on reserve, and we had to make it out of the flood zone still. As far as I know, they never did find that kid's dad. That was one of the worst. I still see that kid's face in my dreams sometimes. His eyes open as wide as they would go, breathing through his mouth, with tears running down both cheeks non-stop and not making a sound."

Mike fell silent for a few steps and finally gave a shudder and shook his head. "I left the Coast Guard not long after the storm and the flooding cleared. A lot of guys left around then."

Arthur didn't speak, but he had a new look in his eyes as he walked next to Mike, ready to lend a hand if needed. They made their way down the hall in silence and turned down the small side corridor they were using as a kind of makeshift sitting room. The hallways had better airflow than the offices and made for a faster retreat if they needed to move quickly.

Arthur helped Mike ease his way down to the floor, and Alyssa was by his side in a few moments. Mike patted her leg affectionately, but he sat up on his own instead of leaning against the shoulder she offered.

"What’s the absolute least amount of time you think I’ll need before I'm ready to travel hard?"  Mike asked.

Arthur frowned a bit and thought for a long time before answering. "Two weeks is still it. I guess maybe a little less, but not much. With gradual increases in resistance training could have you back to mobile in a few days. You won't be back to your peak fitness before you were bed-ridden, though. That's going to take some time, and probably more than just two weeks, to be honest. Your bones and joints aren't what's hurt, but your muscles and connective tissue have atrophied some. It's like when I would have a horse or cow laid up with a leg injury. The animal would have to gradually be reintroduced to walking and running and other activities. Push a muscle or a ligament too hard too early and it can tear, causing even more damage and a much longer healing time."

Mike sighed softly. "That's longer than I was hoping," he admitted. "Will we have supplies for that long?"

Alyssa patted his leg and smiled. "Don't worry about that part of it. We'll work it out somehow. You just focus on getting yourself strong again."

"Two weeks it is, then," Mike said with finality. "What day will that be, anyway?"

No one said anything for a long moment; then Cheryl spoke up. "The tenth of October," she said.

Mike threw back his head and barked a short laugh. "That's the day before my birthday," he said in response to the confused faces looking back at him. "Heck of a birthday present. I may or may not be ready to start a journey, by foot, through God knows what, headed for a place none of us are really quite sure how to get to, looking for people who may or may not have gone there themselves."

Mike leaned his head back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling in the light of the battery powered lantern. He knew they couldn't stay put for a full two weeks. They'd been in one place far too long already. Their waste was starting to pile up in the back of the admin building. Alyssa and Maria had dug pits, but they could only hold so much.

And they were running low on water. That would be the real issue before long. If they didn't find a new source of good, clean, bottled water to tap into, they wouldn't be able to stay much longer than a week. Mike had taken a brief count of their supplies the first night Arthur and Cheryl spent with them. Seven days, was the number he kept coming to. If they weren't moving by the end of that seven days, they were going to be in serious trouble.

Mike closed his eyes as he tried to think of ways to get around the water issue, but soon his breathing was deep and regular, and he began to snore softly. Alyssa pulled his head over onto her shoulder and the snoring stopped. She knew the others were talking about important things, but she couldn't force herself to follow the conversation. She tuned the others out and instead focused on Mike's slow, deep breathing, and the warmth of his head on her shoulder.

Before long, her eyes were closed too, and she drifted off to sleep with him.

Ch.76

Thanksgiving

Joe climbed over the barbed wire fence and led the way across the pasture to where the others were gathered. He waited until Chris, Brant, Oscar, Justin, and Steven were all gathered around before speaking.

"Okay, we're all going to go to the house together," Joe said once everyone was settled and quiet. "It's a risk leaving the herd like that, but it's only for a couple of hours. Mrs. Tillman will have some deer stew cooked up and ready, and I want you all to get some while it's hot. When we're done, I'll come out with the next shift."

Chris climbed onto one of the horses with Steven, and they rode back to spread the word that they'd be eating soon. The rest of them walked down the road as quietly as possible. Most of the houses they passed now were empty. The windows were dark and had been for a long time. Eric shuddered to think what might be behind some of those doors and windows.

Conversation was kept to a minimum while they walked. Oscar and Justin took the lead while Brant and Eric followed in the back, keeping an eye for anyone following them. Joe walked with Cage in between the two groups, his eyes constantly scanning the woods and the houses along the road as they walked.

"So how did you know Eric was my son," Joe asked quietly after a moment.

Cage grunted. "Anyone looks at the two of you for more than a few seconds could see that. He's got your shoulders, your walk, your face. Most of all, though, it's the eyes."

"And you saw all of that from your spot hiding in the bushes?"  Joe asked. "That's pretty impressive."

"I always did have good eyes," Cage said simply.

Joe nodded and fell silent again. He still wasn't quite sure what to make of the new comer. There was something strangely compelling about the man, though. He was quiet, soft-spoken to the point of being nearly submissive, but there was also an incredible strength about him as well. The thing that really struck Joe, though, was the fact that there didn't seem to be a single dishonest or dissembling bone in the man's body. Joe had spent years training in interrogation and counter intelligence, and part of that training had involved learning how to spot lies and evasions, but he'd seen none so far about Cage.

The sun was low in the western sky when the group made the turn on to Cutler's Run. Tom stepped out of the brush at the intersection and waived as they passed.

"Come on, Tom," Joe called. "You need to be there too."

But Tom shook his head even as a hard bout of coughing shook his body. "We need someone to stay out here and at least keep their eyes out, Captain," he said. "You can bring me a bowl of stew back and I'll eat it, but we need someone here as lookout."

Joe reluctantly agreed and left Tom as he was making his way back into the brush and trees to keep an eye out for intruders. Tom’s cough was getting worse, and he looked a little pale in the face, but Joe was short on man power at the moment, and they did need a pair of eyes watching the intersection. As they walked down the road, a few of the families were coming out to make their way down to the homestead as well. They waved and smiled but kept to their own little groups for the most part.