A Catch in Time Page 19

  She led the parade into the living room, and the children clustered around the couch.

  “Poor Josiah,” John Thomas whispered, voice cracking.

  Lucas patted John Thomas’s arm. “He’ll be okay,” he said. Laura smiled, feeling an unaccustomed tenderness toward Lucas. He had changed in the last few years, becoming nearly a model child, yet she still didn’t feel the same warmth toward him she did for John Thomas.

  Lily hadn’t said a word. She stood so still she didn’t seem to be breathing. After a moment, she raised her eyes to her mother’s. “Can I touch him?”

  Laura nodded. “Only on the head, Lily. Very gently.”

  Lily raised her hand to her mouth, kissed her fingers, and placed them briefly on Josiah’s brow. She looked sadly up at Laura. “He’s purple/hill, Mommy. It would be awful to not have purple/hill.”

  Laura smiled. Lily had begun making up multiple-word adjectives and nouns almost from the day she’d started talking. “We won’t lose purple/hill. Come on now. Bedtime.”

  By the next morning, Josiah’s foot was swollen, the skin red and stretched to near transparency, looking ready to burst. Erratic bands of red reached past the swelling. During the night, fever had caused delirium.

  In the early hours, Laura sat by his side, bathing his face and neck with a cool cloth.

  Eli came out of the kitchen with more cold water. His arms trembled as he exchanged the pots, and Laura was concerned he might be relapsing into his recent illness.

  Catherine, in a chair at the foot of the couch, straightened from her position over Josiah’s foot and dropped a soiled cloth into a plastic bag. The flesh at the inner arch of Josiah’s foot was puckered and discolored. Using the last of the fresh damp rags, she gently pressed more pus from the wound. Laura and Eli held Josiah while he groaned and jerked from side to side. Catherine wiped the area clean, then placed a gauze pad smeared with antibiotic ointment over the open wound and gently rewrapped the foot.

  Josiah, eyes closed, moaned and arched the small of his back, then fell limp, breathing raggedly. Laura replaced the already-hot cloth on his forehead with a cool one.

  “This can’t continue,” Catherine said. She picked up the plastic bag of soiled rags and closed it with a firm knot. “Josiah needs proper medical attention.”

  “You know our only other choice is the hospital in Reno,” said Eli. “Christ, Reno! How would we deal with the Brotherhood? And moving Josiah over those roads, avoiding ambushes—” He broke off, breathing raggedly.

  “Josiah may die en route, but he will certainly die here.”

  “No,” Laura said. “How can you say that? Eli’s right, Reno’s too risky. And Josiah’s strong. We can take care of him, keep cleaning and draining his wound. Load him up with antibiotics.”

  Catherine’s expression was sad but determined. “No, Laura. Our antibiotics are old, possibly useless.” She paused, then added, heavily, “Josiah may have gangrene.”

  Laura’s stomach twisted. “Gangrene?” she whispered. “Are you sure?” The word carried hopelessness. The certainty of Josiah’s death.

  “I’m almost certain,” said Catherine.

  “Goddamn it!” Laura shouted, jumping to her feet. “If you’re not sure, how could you say something like that?” Her body trembled in fury.

  “What?” Kate asked, descending the stairs in robe and slippers. “What’s going on?”

  “Goddamn it!” Laura whirled away from Catherine and attempted to brush by Kate.

  Kate grabbed her arm and felt Laura’s quivering anger. “Holy shit.” She looked at Catherine and Eli. “Which one of you got Laura to cuss?”

  “There was purpose to my words, Laura.” Catherine’s tone of entreaty halted Laura.

  “I shoulda known it was you, Catherine,” said Kate.

  Catherine ignored her. “Laura, please. I wish to apologize for my abruptness.”

  Kate nudged Laura forward. “Hurry up, kiddo, before she changes her mind.”

  Laura reluctantly went to stand before Catherine, who took her hands in her own.

  “My dear,” Catherine said with simple sincerity, “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

  Laura knew instantly what Catherine was saying: she had just now realized the depth of Laura’s feelings for Josiah. Laura forced back tears. She’d learned to live with the constant ache of her unrequited love. It was sympathy she couldn’t withstand.

  “Great,” Kate said, oblivious to undercurrents. She sat in a chair next to the couch and placed her hand on Josiah’s brow. “Jesus Christ. He’s burning up!”

  “Yes,” Catherine said. She squeezed Laura’s hands and released them. “We’ve been discussing moving him to the hospital.”

  “Are you nuts?” Kate grabbed a fresh washrag and dipped it into the cold water, wrung it out minimally, and let drops fall on Josiah’s dry lips.

  “Catherine thinks it’s gangrene,” said Eli bleakly.

  Laura knew how deeply Catherine’s words must have struck Eli. Still fighting tears, she went to hug him.

  “Gangrene!” Kate exploded. “You got to be kidding, Catherine. Wasn’t that wiped out a long time ago? He must have been vaccinated, for cryin’ out loud.”

  “No,” replied Catherine, without reproach.

  Laura stifled a hysterical giggle and exchanged a look with Eli, his mouth twitching with laughter. Her giggles escaped, then she burst into tears, hands covering her face.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Kate said uneasily.

  “It’s been a long night,” said Catherine. “Kate, gangrene is the necrotic condition—death—of flesh, caused by infection. I said earlier that Josiah may have gangrene. I should have said gangrene is inevitable. To stop gangrene could require amputation.”

  “Amputation!” Kate exploded. “Chrissakes, Catherine.”

  “If the affected portion of the body is not removed,” Catherine continued over Kate’s protest, “the decay continues until the host is dead …”

  Kate erupted from her chair and ran to the stairs.

  “Kate?” Catherine paused.

  “Be right back,” Kate said, dashing up the stairs.

  “Gotta get dressed.” Over her shoulder, “What the fuck are you guys waiting for? Eli, get the Suburban. Hurry.” She disappeared up the stairs.

  CHAPTER 28

  ELI WAS STILL FAR TOO ILL FOR A TRIP, AND CATHERINE could neither drive nor help physically move Josiah. Both would remain behind with the children; Kate and Laura would take Josiah to Reno.

  The Suburban was fueled and brought out with filled gas cans in its rooftop storage. The vehicle consumed so much gas they seldom used it, though it was kept in good repair. Its red exterior and chrome bumpers had long ago been sprayed green and black for camouflage.

  They turned the rear compartment into a bed for Josiah. Food, water, medication, clothing, weapons, and ammunition were loaded, as were tire chains, and the HF ham radio and antenna. Kate hadn’t called after Josiah was shot because erecting the ancient radio and large antenna took time. The old radio and its antennae were a last resort, always kept hidden.

  They carefully put Josiah to bed in the Suburban, head near the front seat so his condition could be monitored.

  Laura felt as if something had been forgotten. A sensation of wrongness filled her.

  She was leaving Lily for an unknown amount of time. What if she couldn’t get back? If their home was attacked, Catherine was old and Eli was sick. What if Eli got worse? Only Catherine would be left to protect the three children. And if Catherine had another stroke, the children would be alone.

  Laura gazed at Lily, standing by Catherine on the porch, her delicate face framed by waves and curls of black hair, her little body clad in jeans and yellow sweater.

  Lily stared back at Laura, trying hard not to cry.

  “Oh, Lily,” Laura said in a whisper and rushed to her, lifting her and kissing her soft cheek, her silky hair, one perfect ear peeking from her curls. She felt Lily
’s arms fold around her neck, a tiny kiss on her own cheek. “You be good, sweetie, okay?” Laura murmured. “Listen to Catherine and Eli and stay close to the house.”

  Lily nodded, then looked at Laura, her small face full of worry. “Stay away from the dark/stinks, Mommy.” Dark/stinks was her name for the many mutant predators that lurked in forests and fields.

  “I will, baby.” Laura kissed her nose. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

  Lily’s worry vanished, replaced by curiosity. “How do you know?”

  Laura felt she’d never get used to the way Lily took everything so literally.

  “Because I’m careful and when people are careful they can avoid bad things. Okay?”

  Lily nodded and Laura set her back onto the porch between Catherine and Eli. John Thomas stood close to Kate, his eyes dark with anxiety. She stroked his cheek, smiled reassuringly, then ruffled Lily’s curls. “Don’t worry, kiddo. I’ll take care of your mom.”

  Lily gave her a dubious look, then tugged her hand until Kate squatted to eye level.

  “Kate,” Lily said, frowning, “the salty/prickles aren’t careful. They’re”—she grimaced in frustration—“they’re green/jumpy/orange. Don’t let them out, okay? Be pine/bubbles like most times.”

  Kate pulled Lily in for a hug and rolled her eyes at Laura. “Sure thing, kiddo.” Then she rose and grabbed John Thomas in a fierce hug. He was taller than she now but still a child in her arms. His voice cracked when he said good-bye.

  Laura climbed into the driver’s seat and Kate closed the rear doors, then hopped into the passenger side.

  As final farewells were called out, it dawned on Laura. “Where’s Lucas?”

  Heads swiveled, punctuated by shrugs, and Laura, putting the car into gear, called out, “Say good-bye to him for us.”

  Kate stuck her head out the window as they rolled down the driveway. “Don’t worry, Lily-pie; I won’t let the pickles out.”

  Lily stamped her foot and yelled, “Prickles, Kate. Salty/prickles!”

  With a final wave, Kate rolled up her window. “Where does your kid come up with that shit?”

  Laura managed a laugh as she turned onto the dirt road and glanced into the mirror one last time. The figures on the porch were still waving.

  Kate leaned over the back of the seat and checked Josiah. “Do you really think he’ll get gangrene?”

  “I just don’t know. How’s he doing?”

  “I think he’s sleeping.” She placed her hand on his forehead. “He’s still awfully hot.”

  Laura, concentrating on avoiding the ruts and holes in the road, said, “Get the map and let’s figure out some alternate routes, just in case.”

  Kate spread the map on her lap. “We can forget 20 East as a detour; that hasn’t been open in years. Probably never will be, either. We can drop down to 80 and get as far as Grass Valley or Shanty town if we want to try cutting to 89. The only other option is to hit 395 way farther north and take the long way in. ‘Course, the longer the route, the more chance of blockades or ambushes.” She rattled the map. “Maybe we should just try to get into Sacramento. It’s closer.”

  “Forget it.” Laura eased the Suburban from the dirt road onto the blacktop, such as it was. Years of neglect had left every driving surface full of cracks, potholes, pits. Driving was tense and required constant attention. “Sacramento’s a hellhole, you know that.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “We couldn’t get past the first street, much less to a hospital, which have probably all been destroyed, anyway. You weren’t there, Kate. You didn’t see what it’s like; it’s not a city, it’s a nightmare.”

  “It was two or three years ago you and Eli were there,” Kate said stubbornly. “Maybe it’s better now.”

  “How? Nobody in their right mind would go there. It’s nothing but a gang town, full of criminals and—Shaitan.” True to her expectation, Kate blew a sigh of exasperation.

  Kate still believed Shaitan were simply people who’d been driven insane by the second blackout. Hell, she’d been through it herself. She knew what a supreme act of will it had taken to remain intact beneath that heavy shroud of dread and despair. “Look, honey,” she said, impatiently, “this is Josiah’s life we’re talking about. Shaitan don’t have superpowers. Don’t start on all that soulless shit now.”

  Laura refused to get drawn in. “Sacramento’s off-limits. Even Catherine and Eli didn’t consider it an option.”

  “We can’t get into Reno unless we join their damn Brotherhood.” Kate said determinedly.

  “We’ll play along for as long as it takes to get Josiah well. At least Reno’s regulated and we won’t have to worry every time we go out on the street.”

  Kate rattled the map, lips pressed tight in silence.

  Trying to ignore the tension between them, Laura worked at avoiding the worst potholes in the two-lane highway as she wondered whether their group’s unanimous decision to remain in California had been wrong after all. In the six years since the blackout, California hadn’t stabilized the way other states had, although they’d heard life in other states wasn’t a picnic, either.

  The nation was now fragmented in a way that had been unforeseeable. Montana, Idaho, and Oregon had formed a loose coalition of their own and, in doing so, had isolated Washington from the rest of the United States. The states east of the Mississippi were closely allied, excluding Florida, which had declared itself a Catholic religious sovereignty. In Year 2, following the blackout, Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, and parts of Louisiana and Tennessee formed a Christian fundamentalist alliance. The Midwestern states, though never formally declaring themselves separate, nevertheless established new trade protocols with the east, the northwestern states, and the newly enlarged Florida, now called Greater Florida.

  Religious mania swept the nation, and the rest of the world, and post-blackout events kept everyone off balance.

  Survival was a daily struggle, further complicated by the onset of plant and animal mutations.

  This last development crushed any possibilities people would return to more temperate religious beliefs. People cowered in prayer, bound by the hope that belief would spare them, as nothing else seemed to.

  During Year 2, agricultural experimentation in the Midwest united it with the Washington, D.C., government (which still had jurisdiction over all the weaponry) and resulted in control of several strains of base-crops. While Greater Florida was coming into being, the Midwest struggled to replant hundreds of thousands of acres, first denuding it of wildly mutated growth. The numbers who died of starvation in the early years remained unknown.

  California was a renegade state, peopled by anarchists of every description whose politics unified them in only one area: the rejection of any form of government. Pocket communities had regained electrical power, but the state, as a whole, remained off the grid. Its once-extensive hydroelectric system had been sabotaged beyond repair during ensuing years. Power plants were vandalized and numerous dams destroyed by explosives. Many Californians were convinced that the blackout had been caused by the U.S. government. These self-named Free Thinkers thought government, corporate greed, and self-serving politics had destroyed the world.

  People who were convinced they knew the cause of the blackout collaborated, and disagreements over myriad belief systems caused ever-deepening fractures between groups. Even those who agreed spiritually disagreed on how mankind should now proceed. It was a time of new rituals, new religions, and untried social structures.

  As communities argued, traffic between communities slowed. Travelers became wary of entering unknown territories; ignorance of local laws often carried terrible punishments. Those who crossed posted areas—where signs claimed restricted scavenging rights—were at grave risk. Foragers who crossed uncertain lines went as heavily armed groups, or as fools.

  Well, we aren’t fools, and we are heavily armed, Laura thought as she worried about the scavenging boundary not far ahead. Though the po
pulation of the territory they had to cross was scattered and mostly benign, aggressive bands of men policed it. As they crossed the invisible boundary, Laura’s anxiety increased. Their Suburban was packed with supplies and they had a lot to lose. Most important, time. An hour’s grace, for Josiah, might mean the difference between amputation and death.

  She tried to force herself to relax. It was a long way to Reno.

  “How’re you doing?” Kate ventured. It had been a long silence between them.

  Buoyed by the tacit offer of truce, Laura felt stirrings of optimism. She smiled at Kate. “Maybe we’re worrying about nothing.”

  “Uh-oh,” Kate said, staring straight ahead.

  They had just topped a hill. The road dipped, then rose again. At the top of that rise sat a vehicle, centered in the road.

  “Maybe it’s empty,” said Laura, but no sooner had she spoken than doors on both sides of the distant vehicle opened. Two men emerged, one from each side. Both men gripped rifles.

  “Shit,” Kate said.

  Laura’s heart raced. The road leveled off and she drove at a steady pace as they started up the incline toward the men. The open, rolling countryside, dotted with oaks, had no dwellings.

  “Do you recognize them?” Kate asked.

  “I don’t think so. But we could mention Charlie—they might know him.” Charlie was a man they’d once met on an excursion through the neighboring territory.

  “For all we know, Charlie’s dead,” Kate muttered.

  The ground leveled and Laura stopped twenty feet from the truck. She saw the glint of a .357 Magnum that had appeared in Kate’s lap. “Give me the flag,” she hissed.

  Kate snatched a square of folded material from the glove box and passed it to her. Laura shook it out, then rolled down her window and thrust it through, holding it up by the two upper corners. The white linen, painted with a fat red cross, hung limply.

  “We’re headed for Reno,” she called out. “We have a sick man.”

  Agonizing seconds ticked by as the men, rifles trained on them, considered her words.