Read The Journal: Raging Tide: (The Journal Book 4) Online
Authors: Deborah D. Moore
Tags: #prepper survivalist, #prepper survival, #survivalist, #dystopian, #prepper adventure, #prepper, #post apocalyptic survival, #weather disasters, #disaster survival, #action suspense
*
It was late in the afternoon by the time I
finished getting the potatoes, carrots, and seed onions into the
freshly turned soil, and I was more than ready for a break. After
washing up, I took my bicycle up the steep driveway and hopped on.
It was a short ride to the supply shop and I wanted to check with
the nuns about when they might start asking the town for more
bikes.
“Oh, my goodness! Where did all of these
come from?” I was amazed to see over a dozen adult bicycles and a
few children’s bikes parked in the lot behind the supply
trailer.
Sister Lynn looked surprised. “Isn’t this
what you asked us to do, Allexa?”
“Well, yes. I just didn’t expect results so
soon!” I said, truly impressed. “How did you manage to get the word
out so quickly?”
“Don’t forget we also run the school,” she
giggled. “Many of the parents volunteer and we’ve created our own
‘calling tree’, except it’s by word of mouth. Some of these bikes
showed up overnight and some this morning. Is this enough?”
“I think it’s more than enough. Although,
this would be a good place for anyone to get transportation if they
want it,” I said. “I’ll let the colonel know he can take his pick.
Thank you!” I hopped back on my bike and headed up the street
toward the school. Beyond that was Bradley’s Backyard, the township
community garden.
“It’s good to see someone working here,” I
said to the person raking smooth a section of ground. He
straightened up, stretching his back, and grinned. It was Harold
Wolfe.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Smeth. Have you come to
help?” he grinned.
“No, I have my own gardens to tend,” I
replied. “Why are you working the ground, Harold?”
“Someone has to,” he said, setting the rake
aside and walking toward me. “I took a walk around your quaint
little town this morning and spotted this area. It was an educated
guess that this is the community garden spot, is that correct?”
“Yes. You don’t have to work it though, that
should be done by the residents. They have to learn to fend for
themselves,” I said a bit too harshly.
“I understand that, however, if they see
someone working in their behalf, they may feel the pressure to
assist.” He wiped his hands on his trousers. “As a matter of fact,
there was someone here earlier. She had to leave to fix lunch for
the school kids.” Harold looked like he wanted to say more. “May I
be candid, Ms. Smeth?”
“Of course.”
“The colonel has deep feelings for you from
what I can tell, and is understandably possessive of you. I feel
quite uneasy around him. Would you please assure him I am not a
threat?”
“I will do that, Harold, and please call me
Allexa,” I said. I heard some loud shouting coming from the other
side of the Inn. “Excuse me!” I said, and peddled my bike as
quickly as I could, just in time to see two men in a fist
fight.
Almost at the same time Ken and Karen pulled
up in their car and jumped out.
“Hey, what’s going on here?” Ken ran up to
the fight as the older man knocked the other one to the ground.
“He’s been making moves on my wife!” he
snarled.
“No I haven’t, and she’s not just your wife,
she’s my …” the younger one said, getting to his feet. The older
man landed another punch before the boy could finish. The younger
one only pushed back as if he didn’t want to fight. Just as Ken
started to step in between them the older one pulled a knife and
thrust it, stabbing Ken instead of his intended victim.
“Ken!” Karen screamed and pulled her service
revolver.
“No, Karen!” I yelled too late. She was
already pulling the trigger. The report echoed off the back of the
building, the sound ricocheting off the external bricks of the
fireplace on the other side, and the man went down.
We both ran to Ken’s side. Blood was oozing
out of his side and he struggled for breath. “Stay here, I’ll get
Dr. James!” I sped away in the scout car, leaving Karen crying on
the cold ground with Ken in her lap, bleeding profusely. The
younger man knelt in the sand and gravel weeping over his
assailant.
We returned a few minutes later with Dr.
James driving the ambulance. While the doctor examined Ken, I took
vitals on the gunshot victim. I couldn’t find a pulse or a
heartbeat. The shooting was at such close range I would have been
surprised if Karen had missed. I left him lying there, mourned by
his victim, and helped Dr. James tend to Ken.
Jim wheeled the Hummer in next to the
ambulance and jumped out.
“What happened?” he demanded, and then saw
me covered in blood. “Allex, are you hurt?” he almost whispered. I
looked down at my shirt seeing the red splotches for the first
time, my arms also streaked with wet crimson.
“Not my blood, Jim. Help us get Ken on the
gurney.”
“The wound doesn’t look too deep, but I need
to get Ken into surgery immediately,” Dr. James said. “Allex, can
you assist?” I nodded and while Dr. James climbed in back with Ken,
I drove the ambulance to the hospital Mark had founded.
*
We spent over an hour in surgery. Dr. James
was good, but not as experienced as Mark, and went slowly. I handed
over what I remembered Mark asking for in a similar situation,
changing instruments quickly when James asked for something
different. Eventually he was ready to close.
“Thank you, Allexa. I can see why Dr. Mark
had you assist as often as he did. You have good instincts.” He let
out a big sigh as he stripped off his gloves. “I better go talk
with the wife. Will you finish the bandages?” I nodded and left the
room. Poor Ken. A perforated lung. He would be laid up for quite a
while. There was a great deal of blood loss from the entry site and
the slicing of soft tissue; blood which we couldn’t replace unless
Karen knew his blood type and we could find a matching donor.
Nothing was ever simple or easy anymore.
After I finished, I washed and removed my
mask and gloves. The surgical drape I used went into the hamper for
washing. I don’t do that chore any longer… I wonder if Amanda does
it now. In the hospital common area, Jim sat alone. James must have
had Karen in the office, as I saw the door was closed.
“Hi,” I said.
Jim lifted his head. “Is Ken going to be
alright?”
“Dr. James believes so.” I sat down next to
him and took his hand. “What’s to become of the other man in the
fight?”
“It’s an interesting story. Are you ready to
leave and go home?”
“Not just yet. We need to move Ken into a
bed. Will you help?”
“Of course.”
I tapped quietly on the office door. “Jim is
willing to stay long enough to help move Ken into a bed. Can we do
that now?” I asked when Dr. James opened the door. Karen had her
head down on the desk.
The transfer went smoothly with the three of
us lifting and pulling. James set an IV in Ken for fluids and more
painkillers to keep him asleep for the night.
*
When we got home, I went directly downstairs
to shower and change my bloody clothes. The air was still cool, yet
not any cooler than this morning. I thought that was a good
sign.
Dressed in a dark green long sleeved t-shirt
and plaid flannel pants, my hair air drying, I went upstairs to
join Jim and Tom in the kitchen. Jim pulled me into a firm hug,
holding me close, while Tom fixed me a drink. When Jim let go, Tom
took his turn in the hugging.
“Hey you two, I wasn’t hurt. What’s up with
all the concern?” I asked looking from one to the other.
“It’s traumatic to see a friend injured that
badly, Allex,” Tom said. “And then to assist in the surgery to put
him back together, well, that takes courage.” I hadn’t thought
about it like that.
“It was something that had to be done. Dr.
James hasn’t trained an assistant yet. What was difficult to do was
to assist Mark when he did surgery on my
child
after the
wolf attack, and then again on my grandchild for his appendix. I
don’t want to ever do that again,” I stated, and downed my drink.
Tom quickly refilled it. “So what is the ‘interesting story’ about
the other participant in the fight?”
Jim leaned back in his chair, formulating
how he was going to say what had developed over the last few
hours.
“It seems that this Jeremy Smith, who is now
twenty-three, got into his adoption papers two years ago and found
out that Lawrence and Loraine Misko are his biological parents. She
gave birth when she was only fifteen and put him up for adoption.
They eventually married, but Lawrence never knew about the
pregnancy. Jeremy didn’t know how to approach them so he tried to
attach himself to their family instead. Recently, Jeremy told
Loraine the truth. Lawrence thought Jeremy’s attention toward
Loraine was more than it was,” Jim paused. “Now Jeremy is consumed
with guilt that he’s responsible for his father’s death, and
Loraine is in shock, both from the loss of her husband, and also
with the sudden appearance of a son.”
“Wow. What a tangled web we weave…” I
commented. “If only he had been honest with them from the start
things may have turned out differently. What’s going to happen to
Jeremy?” No wonder the young man didn’t fight back, he didn’t want
to hurt his own father.
“Nothing, he didn’t pull the trigger,” Jim
stated.
That statement concerned me. “So what’s
going to happen to Karen, then?” I asked cautiously.
“As far as I’m concerned, nothing for her
either. A fellow officer had been attacked and she defended him.
It’s that simple.” He sipped his Grey Goose.
“Will the town’s people accept that?” I
asked, noticing Tom had yet to comment.
“They will have to,” Jim said. “We might not
really have a curfew here, however, we
are
under martial
law.”
“Tom, you’ve been very quiet. What’s on your
mind?” I asked.
“I think we’re going to have a problem with
this,” he said. “And I don’t know what we’re going to do about
it.”
JOURNAL ENTRY: May 24
With things heating up and tense in Moose Creek, the
security force was down by three. Ken would be laid up for a couple
of weeks, Jim didn’t want Karen on patrol, and Rayn’s pregnancy
automatically took her out of service. That left Sgt. Frank
Sanders, Cpl. Ansell Perkins, Eric, and the colonel. Almost half of
the force during a difficult time is
not
a good thing.
~~~
“I think I should call a town meeting,” Tom
said to us over breakfast. “Maybe if we face this head on and clear
the air, we can prevent an uprising.”
Jim nodded. “Good move, Tom, and the sooner
the better. I’ll talk with Father Constantine, since he’s the other
person on our council. Allex, can you get Eric in town for a few
days while we get this settled?”
“I can ask him, Jim, though remember he’s
not military any longer.”
*
The meeting was scheduled for tonight and we
had a full house, which wasn’t a surprise. Even though it was fewer
than the first meeting, the attendance was still impressive. This
was the first major issue the town had faced as a whole since the
flu sweep, and I wasn’t sure if the turnout was because of the
issue or out of boredom.
Tom led the group in the Pledge of
Allegiance and the group quieted.
“We’ve called this meeting to discuss with
you the events that happened yesterday and the results of the
ongoing investigation. I’m turning the floor over to Colonel
Andrews,” Tom said and sat down.
“At approximately 1700 hours, or five in the
afternoon, there was an altercation between Jeremy Smith and
Lawrence Misko, which took place behind the Inn at the service
entrance. During this fist fight, Allexa Smeth arrived, followed
shortly by deputies Karen and Ken Gifford. Deputy Ken Gifford
attempted to stop the fight by stepping in between the two
assailants and was stabbed. Deputy Karen Gifford, responding to an
attack on a fellow officer, shot and killed Lawrence Misko. Deputy
Ken Gifford underwent extensive surgery to repair a punctured lung
and several lacerations and will be off work for an unknown period
of time while he recovers from his injuries.
“After questioning everyone present, it has
been determined that Deputy Karen Gifford acted within the
parameters of her duty and therefore will not face any charges.”
Jim stopped reading from his statement and looked at the silent
crowd. “Now, I know some of you are wondering just who made this
determination. I’ll answer that right now. I alone made that
decision.” The crowd murmured. “It’s been about seven months since
everyone has settled here in Moose Creek, and it’s been relatively
peaceful. Much of that is due to the fact that we are still under
martial law, and my security team, which is made up of military
personnel and civilians, has worked diligently to keep all of you
safe. Martial law means military rule, and it means that
my
word is law. As long as everyone keeps that in mind it will make
this easier to understand. When it comes to involvement of my team,
I
set the rules,
I
make the decisions, and I alone
suffer the consequences of their actions.” Jim stood there for a
moment. “Are there any questions?”
A young man raised his hand and stood.
“Colonel, it seems to many of us that Mrs. Gifford is getting a
free get-out-of-jail pass for this shooting. Wouldn’t any of us
have gotten arrested? This seems like police favoritism.”
“Yes, you would have been arrested.
Deputy
Gifford is not getting a free pass; she doesn’t need
one. She pulled her weapon
after
her partner had been
stabbed and she shot the assailant in self-defense and in defense
of her partner. That’s not police brutality. Now, had it been
proven that
you
acted in self-defense, you would not have
been arrested either.” Jim looked around again. “Any other
questions?” He sat down when no one responded.