The Beginning at the End of the World: A Post-Apocalyptic, Dystopian Series (The Survivor Diaries Book 2) (37 page)

The trucks rumbled in at about two in the morning. From that moment on there was pure chaos. I couldn’t make my way past the wall of people waiting for them to come in. I got separated from Ammie and could only hope that she was still with Adam.

The scene reminded me of news coverage of families waiting for information after an airplane crash. People were yelling and some were crying when they saw the bloody bodies of people we didn’t even know.

Minutes passed like hours, until I saw Jake carrying a lady in his arms. Malcolm and the medics were attempting to triage the wounded.

It was my turn to do what I do. I jumped on top of the hood of a truck while Sampson stood close by to make sure I didn’t slip. When Fitzpatrick passed me, I told him to turn on the emergency signal for twenty seconds. He looked at me with a question mark on his face, but ran off to comply.

From my place on the truck’s hood, the alarm was close enough to my ears to make me wince. I put my hands over my ears and crouched down. When the sound stopped, almost everyone froze in place, looking around for instructions.

“I am up here. I need you to go back to your tents. We will come and notify you if we need you, and that includes people with loved ones who were on the mission,” I ordered.

The Villagers reluctantly followed my directions. That’s when I saw the make-shift stretcher carrying Mark’s bloody and broken body. Malcolm was at his side, moving along with the soldiers carrying their wounded warrior. I felt the blood drain from my face. His head moved, and I knew that he was still alive. I ran over and grabbed his bloodstained hand, but they were moving too fast and my hand slipped and lost contact.

“He’s not wearing his dog tags. Laura, what’s his blood type?” Malcolm asked.

“He’s O positive,” I said knowing that I couldn’t even donate blood for him.

“Get on the camp channel and try to find any type Os,” he told me.

I ran to the tent where I had left that walkie.

“Villagers, we need everyone with type O blood to come to the big tent for donations. Please, anyone with type O blood,” I begged.

Within minutes, we had three donors.

“Laura, the Doc sent me to get you to ask for B positive, too,” said Sergeant Baldwin. “For Ramirez, he’s bad.”

I put out the call for that when I realized that I was B positive.

I went over to Erica Hansen, one of the nurses, to donate my blood to give Staff Sergeant Jose Ramirez a chance to live. I had been a frequent donor before the war, and I knew the drill.

“I am sorry, Laura,” said Erica. “But I can’t take your blood. You obviously don’t weigh enough.”

“Erica, take it,” I ordered. “I’ll eat something, and I will be fine. I am not going to let a man die over a few pounds.” Erica looked dismayed at my order.

“Let her give the blood,” said Jackson as he limped into the tent leaning on Specialist Woolf for support. “I’ll take responsibility for her.”

I wanted to run over and fling my arms around him, but instead I sat down on the bench and held out my arm.

“This is highly ill-advised,” she told me, but she stuck the needle in my vein anyway.

I watched as Mason took dressing off of Jackson’s thigh and looked at a wound.

“It’s just a graze,” Jackson shouted to me over the insanity. “I’m fine.”

When Erica pulled the needle from my arm, I jumped up too fast. Blackness tried to make it into my line of vision, but I refused to allow it. Erica grabbed my arm, but I pulled it away and went to Jackson’s side.

“That’s my tough girl,” he told me.

“Yeah, your tough girl tried to take a swing at me earlier,” said Mason.

“Heh, I’m sure you deserved it,” Jackson told him.

“He did,” I said. “What happened out there?”

“They fought back,” said Jackson. “Is Mark alright?”

I shook my head, and Erica came and took over Jackson’s care.

“He’s in surgery,” she told us. “Colonel Jackson, I need to clean the wound. It’s going to sting.”

I took his hand. He turned and looked in my eyes as she worked on him, never flinching once. When she was done, he exhaled strongly and squeezed my hand gently. Then Erica redressed the wound.

“I need to find out how Mark is doing. And Bri,” I said.

“Bri was in my vehicle. She twisted her ankle, but she’s fine,” he told me. “Let’s go and find out about Mark.”

I ducked under his arm to help him walk, but I could feel myself sway a little under the weight of his body.

“Okay, lightweight. Maybe you should sit.” I gave him a look. “Okay, okay. Just don’t punch me.”

“I’ll do my best, but you never know,” I said.

We asked around and found out that there were two surgeries going on in RVs two and three, but no one seemed to know who was in which.

“You need to get into the cabin and rest,” I told Jackson. I walked him over after retrieving Annie, Billy and Bailey, who were displaced from their beds in the RV. We all went to the cabin together.

“Will you two babysit Jackson while I find out what is going on?” I asked them. Bailey giggled.

“No, you need to sit for a while,” Jackson said. “Annie, she…”

I was out the door before another word could pass his lips. I felt nauseous and went behind an RV and threw up. I kicked snow over it and went to find someone to tell me what was going on.

∞

I was able to flag down a frazzled looking Fitz.

“I need to know what’s going on,” I told him.

He grabbed my arm and led me back to the big tent. Some of the MT were being given basic first aid by other soldiers, and I finally spotted Bri. I grabbed Fitz’s arm so that he couldn’t get away and dragged him over to where Adam was wrapping Bri’s ankle. I pulled her in for a long, tight hug.

“What happened out there? Did you see Mark?” I asked.

“Two very different questions,” she said. I always knew when she was hiding tears under bravado, but I didn’t want to say anything that would release her emotions until she was ready.

“Let’s start with Mark. How bad is he?”

“I saw him go down. Ramirez helped me pull him out, but that’s when he was shot. I shot that bastard who did it, and he went down. I pulled Uncle Mark out the best I could and went back for Ramirez. Jackson carried Mark to a truck and Owens came for Ramirez. That’s all I really know about them. Aunt Laurie, it was a blood bath, worse than anything we saw getting up here from Arizona and that was bad.”

I gently pulled her in and kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry, Bri. Sometimes I hate this world.” She knew what I meant.

Jake came over and pulled me into a tight hug, and I released my tears on him.

“Doc Riley just came out of surgery with Ramirez. He didn’t make it,” Jake said.

I cried even harder.

Fitz, Jake, Adam, Bri and I waited for another hour or so before Malcolm came into the tent with Katie.

“He’s going to live,” he told us.

Tonight, we lost one soldier and thirty-nine Wanderers. Eight of them lived and were in the camp undergoing various medical procedures.

∞

“Thanks, Annie, Billy,” I said to my two babysitters. “How’s he doing?”

“We have been checking on him. He’s sleeping now,” said Billy as he got up and stretched.

“We should be getting back to the RVs and clean up. I can’t imagine what they are going to look like,” said Annie.

After warning her to let the medics lead in the cleanup, I updated them on Mark’s condition. When they were gone, I checked on Bailey and made sure she was sleeping soundly. Her curled up little body slept with no knowledge of the carnage that was just on the other side of her door.
How can I keep her from losing her innocence in this world? How could I even keep her safe?

I pulled in the overstuffed chair from the living room and placed it next to the bed. The minute I entered the room, I saw two ocean blue eyes looking up at me.

“Hi, honey,” Jackson said. “Sorry, that pill Erica gave me wiped me out. Have you heard anything about Mark?”

“Only that he will live,” I told him.

“I’m glad. You know that I don’t hate him, right?” he said.

“I know,” I said. “And you do know that you are not to blame for what happened to him, to anyone, don’t you?”

“It was my mission. I am to blame for any loss, just like you blame yourself when anything goes wrong in the Village.” I couldn’t argue that one. “We had everything planned, just like any mission we would have gone on before the war. But there were too many of them to make it an easy sweep. We were thrown because those who fought back were suicidal. You can do a lot of damage when you don’t care if you live or if you die.”

“How were you supposed to know that?” I asked him rhetorically. “Everyone we have come across has wanted to live. Well, except for Rolette, but he was insane. Maybe they were, too.”

I lay down next to him gently, as to not shake the bed and hurt him. He didn’t seem too worried about his wound or the pain. He took me firmly in his arms and made love to me. We found comfort in each other’s arms, trying to forget what we had seen and done since this horrible war had ruined any semblance of safety we could ever have again.

“Take me to the winery,” I told Jackson as soon as he opened his eyes.

“Errr, give me a minute,” he told me.

I got up and started to dress. I looked in the mirror, and my face was sheet white; part and parcel of giving that much blood, I suspected. I brushed out my tangled hair and pulled it into my now signature ponytail.

Then, without giving it any more thought than brushing my teeth, I picked up a pair of scissors from the vanity, grabbed my hair at the base of the ponytail and began to chop through the thick strands. The ponytail stayed intact, and I threw it on the ground.

“What the…” said Jackson as he jumped out of the bed and attempted to put weight on his wounded leg. “Ouch. Why?”

“Because it was cumbersome, and I don’t need it,” I said. “It’s okay if you need to rest more. I can get someone to go with me. I am planning to ask Reverend John.”

“No way, not with you acting this way. Get us some coffee and give me a minute,” he said. He looked at the red mane on the floor and shook his head. “I love you, crazy woman.”

“There are some clean uniforms in the closet,” I told him as I went to the kitchen. “The pants from last night had to be chucked, but I put the shirt into the washing machine.”

∞

Jackson limped alongside me as I made my way through the Village campgrounds. I ignored the stares at my newly sheared hair and Jackson’s obvious wounds; not to mention seeing us together after yesterday’s revelation of our relationship.

We stopped by the RV where they were keeping Mark. I tentatively opened the door and Malcolm immediately came out to talk to us.

“He’s resting comfortably,” he said. “He had two bullet wounds, and we got them out cleanly. It will be days before he is on his feet again, but I am confident he will make a full recovery. He asked for you, Laura.”

“Can I see him?”

“He’s asleep right now. Come back in a few hours,” he said before returning to his patient.

“Now, Annie’s RV,” said Jackson. “You have to start eating.”

“Laura,” said a woman’s voice from behind me. “Wait up.”

“Hi Jessica,” I said. “We are kind of in a hurry.”

“I just wanted to tell you how nice you look with the shorter hair. If you come by my tent when you have time I can cut it into a real cute pixie, or whatever you want,” she said. Her attitude about Jackson and me was gone now, and her sincerity was clear.

“Thanks, I will,” I told her before she jetted off to the big tent.

“You are still the most beautiful woman in the world,” whispered Jackson.

“I’m not sure what that means anymore, but thanks,” I said.

Ammie was with Bri, and they were walking towards us.

“Hey, Gimpy,” Jackson greeted Bri.

“Look who’s talking,” Bri retorted.

“Hey, check it out,” Ammie said pointing at me. “It was way over a year this time. You owe me three bucks, Bri.”

“Ha, I left my cash in my other pants. Do you take credit cards, American Express Platinum, maybe? So, this was the longest your hair ever got, wasn’t it?” asked Bri. “Hey, can I have the hair? Maybe I can make myself a red wig. Freaked ya out, didn’t it, Jackson?”

“This is something you do, I take it,” said Jackson.

“What was your first clue? Yeah, he freaked, but I played it cool.”

∞

I told Reverend John what we needed, and he was glad to help. It was pretty quiet during our trip to the winery, but finally Jackson spoke up.

“I don’t think that you need to go in there, Laura. The Padre and I can do what he needs to do without you.”

“No, I need to know. I need to see,” I told him.

“Reverend John, she has nightmares all of the time now. She wakes screaming, and her heart starts racing,” Jackson said, as if telling on me to my mother like he did last night.

“Jackson, Laura knows what she needs. Sometimes we need to see the things that scare us the most. It can be healing.”

“This won’t be healing. I guarantee it,” said Jackson.

We pulled up to the door where I had entered when we first came upon the occupied winery. There were bloody hand prints all over it, but I went in without a word.

The place was so quiet this time. The first body was in the entryway. It was so riddled with bullets that I couldn’t tell if it was a male or a female. I turned away and Jackson was immediately at my side. I took his hand and continued to move us onto the main winery floor.

Most of the barrels had bullet holes, but only a few had pools of wine below them. In places, blood from nearby bodies mixed with the spilled wine.

“Reverend John, can we recite Psalm Twenty-Three now?” I asked.

“Of course,” he said. He led us through the Psalm, and I turned to look at Jackson as he said it right along with us.

At the end, Jackson turned to me and said, “What, you think you were the only one to go to
parochial
school?”

“Well, yeah,” I said. “I’ll be outside. I have something to do out there.”

I exited the door and pulled the black permanent marker from my saddlebag, and in my tradition of writing on walls, I penned:

Inside lie the remains of thirty nine Wanderers.

Some were innocent and some were guilty.

May they find their way in death,

That they could not find in life.

∞

The men stayed inside for another half hour, moving the bodies and covering them with whatever they could find to use inside the mausoleum. We closed the doors behind us, hoping that they would remain that way forever.

“So, you two are the big scuttlebutt in the Village now,” said Reverend John out of the blue. I knew that he was trying to get our minds off the horrendous scene that we just encountered, and it worked.

Jackson looked at him in disbelief, but I was not surprised at the Reverend’s candor. He and I have been discussing the relationship since the beginning. He has always been open and honest with me.

“It’ll die down as soon as we have our next big piece of gossip,” I said.

“So, Padre,” said Jackson. “I guess we are going to hell, huh?”

“Laura asked me that not long ago,” said Reverend John. “And I will tell you exactly what I told her. I think you each have enough good guy points built up that you are both a shoe-in for a spot in heaven.”

“Thanks,” said an unconvinced Jackson. “Laura does anyhow.”

∞

When we returned to the camp we were whisked into a MT meeting. I hadn’t completely recovered from the sights and smells of the winery experience, but it was time to get our ducks in a row. We now had a total of nine new people in the Village, some of whom might have been involved in the horrific activities that had taken place, at least in part, in the winery. And then there was the matter of Sergeant Ramirez’s burial.

“Report, Jackson,” said Mason. “Not the details, we already have those. What went wrong?”

“Well, Colonel Mason, it seems we raided a beehive of suicidal, American insurgents. Men and women, armed with assault rifles, pistols and knives, came out in force. We used the gas and waited, but it didn’t stop them. Some of them were probably on drugs, but we don’t know what.”

“This was your mission, and we lost a man,” said Mason.

“Yes, we did. He died saving more men,” said Jackson. “It could have been much worse. Put plainly, we didn’t have enough troops.”

“Then we need to start recruiting,” said Mason.

“Hell no. Not in my Village,” I said. “If someone volunteers then fine, but there is to be no active recruiting or drafting.”

“I understand your trepidations,” said Fitzpatrick. “But it is very possible that we will run into this sort of thing again. We need to know that we have enough combat forces to take care of it.”

“We need to get the hell out of these hills to where you promised us safety,” I said. “I am getting tired of arguing with all of you. If you will not figure out how to get us out of here, we will. And Mason, don’t forget your promise when you joined us. The Villagers are not your minions,” I said.

“And we still plan to keep that promise. Don’t we, gentlemen?” said Jackson.

“Then work with the Villagers, and we will find a way out,” I said. “Now let’s get down to business. What are the chances of making it out on foot?”

“Little to none in our present state,” said Fitzpatrick.

That meeting went on for another excruciating hour and a half.

∞

“That son of a bitch,” I ranted as Jackson and I headed back to the cabin.

“I have never been a fan of his, either. But he is right, Laura. Our people came back badly beaten, both physically and mentally. You only saw the aftermath of what happened. Bloodbath doesn’t even begin to describe it. Those people were like rabid dogs. The ones who didn’t have traditional weapons used homemade shit, like metal balls with spikes. In my thirty five years in the service, I have seen a lot, but I have never seen anything like that. They were like wild animals.”

“I am sorry you had to go through that, Jackson. I really am, but that doesn’t mean that the people who surrendered to you are that way. And if they are, maybe it was their only way to survive. I’m not at all happy with them being interrogated by your men. We have Katie, and she knows what she is doing. I am sending her to them when they are out of quarantine, maybe before.

“Jackson, I have to tell you something that I know to be true; you need one person in charge of the MT. Since you all have decided to join the Village, it needs to be my call. That person should be Fitzpatrick.”

Jackson’s face lit with surprise, and then he said something even more unexpected than my decision, “I agree.”

∞

Sergeant Baldwin was watching over the livestock when I went to see what we were planning on doing with the animals without Ramirez. He was attempting to milk a goat.

“You need some help over here?” I asked him.

“No, ma’am,” he said. “I’m sure you have more important things to do.”

“More important than supply our people with good nutrition? No, not really,” I said. His expression was wistful.

“He was a good friend to you, wasn’t he?” I asked.

“The best, ma’am,” said Baldwin.

“You have a lot of experience with farming?” I asked him.

“Nah, I grew up in L.A.,” he told me. “But Ramirez talked a lot about it. I figured I would keep the animals fed and taken care of until we got to the Valley; if we ever get there.”

“I am feeling the same. He taught me to milk those things. It will go by faster if you have company,” I said, grabbing one of the female goats by her collar and pulling up a little plastic chair. The animals were actually growing on me.

Baldwin had a wash bucket with warm soapy water, and I pulled out a wash cloth and wrung out the excess water before cleaning down her udder. She bucked a little, but she soon complied with my will. I pulled over a clean bucket and did just as Ramirez had taught me. The first few attempts yielded some milk production. I guess I got cocky because the next time I squeezed, my cold fingers slipped, and the milk squirted right into my face. Baldwin took one look at me and began laughing. He tried to get it under control as I wiped the milk out of my eyes.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said controlling his laughter.

“Why? It was funny,” I told him.

“You are my superior, and now isn’t the time for fun anyhow,” he said.

“Would Ramirez have laughed?” I asked.

“He’d probably be rolling on the ground.”

“You know, it’s alright to find something to smile about in all of this. I don’t think he would have wanted you to stop finding happiness in life.”

We finished milking the goats in silent thought.

∞

I took a deep breath before entering the RV. I wasn’t sure what to expect. Erica was at the desk that had been set up as my office at the beginning of our journey. That seemed like a million years ago.

“Is he awake?” I asked, pointing to the door of the bedroom.

“He’s awake,” she said dryly. It didn’t take much for me to guess that she was on team Mark. I knocked lightly on the door.

“Come in,” said Mark’s weak voice. His face lit when he saw me. “I was wondering when you would come.”

“You were sleeping when I tried before,” I told him. It was an excuse, and he knew it. “How are you feeling?”

“Like someone shot me, twice,” he replied.

“Fair enough. Mark, I was so scared when I saw you on the stretcher.”

“Sorry. It was insane in there, Laura. When that first bullet hit me, all I could think about was never seeing you again; never having the chance to make things right again.”

I lowered my head in guilt. Did he think that his getting shot would make me leave Jackson and go back to him? My heart was bleeding seeing him lying there, helplessly. How had everything gone so wrong? Not just in the world, but with Mark and me? He looked up at me and smiled the smile that used to make me melt, but now it just made me sad.