The Journal: Crimson Skies: (The Journal Book 3) (14 page)

Lenny made his way toward the road, rifle
lowered. “I didn’t know it was you. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, Lenny!” I stepped closer to him. “We
thought you and Pete had been taken by those rogue soldiers, maybe
even killed! I’m so glad to see you!” It was hard to contain my
excitement. Our friends were alive! “What happened back then?”

“Well, we heard those soldiers coming back.
They sure weren’t being very quiet. We had just put that venison on
to cook, so we covered it and hid behind the next house over, where
the tree line starts. I guess they could smell the meat cooking,
because they zeroed right in on us. They went through the house,
then took the meat and kicked over the grill.”

“Oh, we thought maybe you did that, to let us
know you didn’t go willingly,” Mark said.

“Nope. We left it like that in case they came
back though. We saw you come and put out the fire. Once you left,
we went back to the house, got our rifles where we had hidden them,
and came up here.”

“I’m so glad you’re safe, Lenny. Where’s
Pete?” I asked.

“He’s inside at the compound. He’s really
sick – got some kind of infection.”

“Maybe I can help,” Mark offered.

“That would be great, only…” Lenny hesitated,
“…it’s a pretty tight group that’s here now, and the head guy
doesn’t like strangers. He’s got real strict rules about that.”

“He sounds like the person we want to talk
with then. Will you take us to him?” I asked.

All of us got back into the vehicles, and
followed Lenny down the twisting dirt road. A mile later he turned
left, and shortly after that I could see the water of Mathers Lake
shimmering ahead. There were a few cottages along the ragged
shoreline, but mostly larger, year-round structures. It was very
secluded, and a few lucky souls had found a perfect retreat.

I hadn’t thought before to ask Jim how well
armed his men were, though it seemed prudent to do so now before we
stopped.

“Each one has their M-4, plus two side arms
and various knives, and trust me, they know how to use all of
them,” he informed me. “And you?”

“I have a 9mm Kel-Tec in my shoulder holster
and Mr. Krause’s knife in my boot,” I replied. “I’m not sure what
Ken and Karen are carrying, though I’m sure it’s substantial.”

Lenny pulled up to one of the nicer houses, a
log A-frame with a wide porch, with several trucks parked in front.
The colonel twisted the steering wheel and backed up, facing
outward. The other driver did the same; a quick escape maneuver.
Everyone emerged at once, and we waited while Lenny went inside.
Only a few moments passed before a young, dark haired man appeared
in the doorway. He looked in his mid to late thirties, fit and well
fed.

“Good morning. I’m Arthur Collins. I run this
place, what can I do for you?” His voice was soft, firm and held
little emotion. “Before you go on, understand we do not welcome
visitors here. Leonard has violated our security and will be dealt
with for that.”

“Good morning. I’m Allexa Smeth, from Moose
Creek. This is my husband, Dr. Mark Robbins; my friend Jim Andrews,
and a few of our group,” I stated, intentionally not informing him
of Eric being my son, though Lenny knew this. “I understand you
have one of our friends here, Pete, and that he’s quite ill. My
husband would like to see him, and treat him if he can. And before
you punish Lenny, understand he knows us, and he knows we mean no
harm to your group whatsoever. Besides, we already knew you were
here.”

“I will take that into consideration.” He
turned to Mark. “What kind of doctor are you?”

“An M.D., general practice.” Mark kept his
voice calm, though I could tell he was nervous.

Collins nodded and looked back at me. “You
couldn’t have known Pete was injured until you arrived, so I’m
asking again: why are you here?”

I had anticipated this question when we first
decided to make contact.

“Honestly, we wanted to make contact with
other survivors,” I said. “Plus, we were wondering if you were
interested in establishing some kind of trade between our two
groups.”

“What do you want from us?”

“Only the right to hunt and fish occasionally
without being challenged, plus anything you might be interested in
trading,” I shrugged my shoulders.

“What do you have for us in return?” His
questions were disturbingly blunt.

“We have a small beer brewery established,
limited dairy products, and of course the medical services. I’m
also willing to discuss what other needs there may be. Unless we
talk, we can’t know what the other has and is willing to part
with.” I was so tempted to cross my arms, but the body language
might be misinterpreted. This was not a stupid man we were dealing
with.

“Okay, Doctor, you can treat Peter. The rest
of you must stay here.”

“That’s not acceptable, Collins. My wife is
also my nurse, and I don’t go anywhere without my own personal
bodyguard.” Mark stood his ground, crossing his arms.

Arthur stood on the porch and stared at Mark
for a moment, his eyes dark with anger at being defied. He went
inside without a word. Moments later, Lenny came back out, looking
nervous.

“Okay, Doc, you, Allexa and one other can
come with me. I’ll take you to Pete.”

“Jim, pick one,” Mark said quietly.

“Mr. Wilders, you’ve just become a bodyguard.
Forget you have a rank while you’re here, son, these folks have
twitchy fingers. I’ll be right here,” the colonel said quietly with
his back to the house, then turned and casually leaned against the
nearest Hummer.

Lenny led the way down a well-worn gravel and
pine needle path to one of the smaller cottages, and walked right
in.

“Boy, Art was really pissed when he came back
in! He doesn’t like being stood up to,” he said, going to one of
the back rooms and opening the door. The rank, sick smell hit me
hard. Mark flinched then ignored it, though I saw a flash of anger
in his eyes.

Pete was lying on the messy bed, eyes closed
and his left arm on top of the covers. Even from the doorway I
could see the wound seeping yellowish fluid.

“Hey, Pete,” Lenny said softly to his friend.
“I’ve brought some help. Dr. Mark is here to fix your arm.” Pete’s
eyes fluttered open and he smiled at us.

“Dr. Mark, Allexa, it’s good to see you. Do
you really think you can fix this scratch? It hurts.” Pete’s
breathing was labored.

“What did you do to it, Pete?” Mark asked,
sitting down in the nearby wooden chair and opening his new medical
bag. I automatically moved an end table closer so he could set
things out. I was getting good at anticipating his needs.

“We were climbing over some fences and I got
scratched pretty deep by the barbed wire. I washed it out with the
water in my drinking bottle, but we don’t have any medicine to put
on things like this. I did try to keep it cleaned and covered, and
it still got infected.”

“Lenny, do you have a couple of clean towels?
And some water, preferably sterile; maybe some you boiled then
didn’t use?” I asked of him.

Mark cut Pete’s shirtsleeve up and back to
expose the rest of the swollen, red skin. Multiple weeping lesions
were centered on a deep purple gash, with long red tracks leading
up the arm.

“Pete, I’m not going to lie to you. This
looks really bad. It’s gone into septicemia and it’s dumping poison
into your system,” Mark stated bluntly. “I’m going to give you a
shot that will numb your arm, and then I’m going to drain as much
of this pus as I can. Do you understand?” Pete nodded.

Mark stood and looked at me, saying “Double
gloves, N-99 masks.” He looked deep into my eyes. “Do
you
understand?” I nodded. It was going to get very messy.

Lenny returned with a stack of towels and a
pitcher of water. I told him he didn’t want to watch, and he left.
I got out two peri bottles that I had put into the new pack
yesterday, filled them with the water and set them on the table.
The angled spouts would let me dispense the water without getting
in the way. Mark was right; this bigger pack was much needed.

Once the anesthetic took effect, I put three
towels under Pete’s arm and Mark wiped the arm down with
povidone-iodine solution, and then sliced into it, sending a spurt
of noxious yellow fluid into the first layer of towels, which I
removed.

“Squirt the water slowly into the wound. I
need it constantly irrigated while I probe,” he said through his
mask. More water, more probing, more towels.

“Ah! Just as I suspected.” Mark triumphantly
held up a metal barb with the forceps and dropped it on the table.
We continued to irrigate until the fluid changed colors from the
sickly yellow to a pale blood pink. After wiping the skin dry, Mark
applied several butterfly bandages, some ointment, then I wrapped
the arm in gauze and taped it.

“Pete, the wound wouldn’t heal because there
was a piece of the metal imbedded in your arm. It should do better
now. I didn’t stitch it closed, because it needs to drain.”

“Thank you, Dr. Mark. It already feels less
swollen.”

“It is. We drained a lot out. I’m leaving you
a Z-Pak of antibiotics. Four pills today, three tomorrow, two and
then one. You should be better by then.” Mark stood, pulling off
his gloves and mask. “And Pete, you were damn lucky we came when we
did. The next step would have been amputation to your shoulder, if
you weren’t already dead.”

I left my mask and gloves on while I bundled
up all the towels we’d used and stuffed them into a cloth hamper
bag.

We had been at it for almost an hour.
Corporal Wilders was understandably relieved to see us and the
three of us walked back to the vehicles.

“How is the patient doing, Doctor?” Collins
asked from his seat on the porch, his feet up on the railing. The
false casualness was no doubt meant to be distracting.

“I removed a piece of barbed wire from his
arm, drained and irrigated the wound, and left him with some
antibiotics. He should be fine in a few days, but he will need
stitches to close the wound. Lenny can bring him to my office next
Monday.”

“There’s a bundle of towels we used that
should be washed and sterilized immediately – or burned. Pete also
needs a shower, clean clothes, and clean bed linens. And, Lenny,
open the damn windows!”

“I’ve made a few decisions while you were
busy.” Arthur dropped his feet to the deck and stood. “We’ll come
to your homes and see what you have that we may want. We certainly
don’t need more people here to take care of, but you, Doctor, can
stay.”

“I think you misunderstood our offer, Art. I
can call you Art, can’t I?” I tried not to snarl at him, though it
was difficult. “We don’t need anyone to ‘take care’ of us, and
none
of us are staying here. If, and it’s now a doubtful
if
, we decide to do some bartering with you, it will be a
mutual exchange, and will be done in town, not at any residence,
and under full guard.”

Who did he think he was?

“I think
you
misunderstand, Ms. Smeth,
we need a doctor. We’re keeping him, and you, if it makes him
happy.”

“Now you listen to me you arrogant, pompous
dictator! There is no way I’m staying here under any conditions. I
am fed up with your authoritarian bullshit and I’m leaving. Now!”
Mark spat out, and turned his back on Collins.

All of our personnel pulled up their rifles,
chambering a shot, and every one of them was pointed at the porch.
Collins froze.

“Ms. Smeth, my apologies,” Collins called
out. “Please understand that for this small band of people to
survive, someone has had to be in charge. It’s been much easier for
one person to make the rules and make the decisions. That’s been
me. These men and women trust me to do what’s best for them.
Perhaps I was a bit… hasty.” He stepped down from the porch and
approached us. The soldiers closed in and Eric stepped in front of
us, preventing Collins from getting any closer.

“I think, Ms. Smeth, you and I have something
in common.” He glanced at those protecting me, us, and gave me a
chilling smile. He looked at Mark and said, “I assume Leonard knows
where your office is. I will have him bring Peter to you on Monday
at noon.” He climbed the stairs and went into the house without
looking back.

Mark and I climbed into the nearest Hummer,
Colonel Andrews slid in behind the steering wheel, and Corporal
Wilders and Specialist Ramirez hung one-armed onto the sides,
keeping their guns trained on the empty porch. The other vehicle
duplicated our action, and we left as one.

~~~

“What was that all about, Allex?” Mark asked,
pouring me a splash of spiced rum. My hands shook slightly as I
took it. “What could
you
possibly have in common with Arthur
Collins?”

It was late afternoon now, and darker than
normal as the heavy clouds moved back in.

“Nothing,” I said a bit too quickly, a bit
too sharply. I stood by the picture window and watched Eric and
Rayn at the picnic table, laughing and talking, like a couple in
new-love. I was happy for him, everybody needs somebody. The other
soldiers were playing Frisbee with Chivas on the front lawn.
Everything looked peaceful, normal. The encounter with Collins had
shaken me deeply.

“If I may,” Colonel Andrews said, pouring a
similar drink for himself. “I think Collins looks at the command
structure here as similar to his own. What he doesn’t know, and
doesn’t need to know, is that this is a family, with a matriarch at
the helm. The loyalty here runs much deeper, because it runs on
love and respect. His group runs on fear.”

Mark looked from Jim to me, waiting for
more.

“He all but accused me of being a dictator!”
I protested.