Graham's Resolution Trilogy Bundle: Books 1-3 (46 page)

In Ennis’s dream, Tala kept telling him, “It’s okay, Ennis, just one more; don’t worry, it will get better,” as she added log after log, placing them horizontally across his chest as he sunk farther and farther into the rushing water of the creek. At first he believed her, but now he was running out of breath and would soon drown with the heavy weight upon his chest. Still, she continued to add more logs, running through the water in the dark to retrieve yet another to place upon him.

“Bang, can you get another wet towel?” Tala asked. She began to wedge the spoon between Ennis’s lips to sneak in more applesauce while Macy held onto Ennis’s hand, trying to soothe him.

“Please, Ennis, you’ll feel so much better if you can get this down,” Tala pleaded.

With his fever so high, Ennis was delirious. He pushed at them, worn out from the hazy, unseen battle. “No! No more,” he cried out in anguish.

Tala dropped the spoon back into the cup and looked at Macy in tears of defeat. “I . . . I don’t know what else to do. I can’t get the meds into him without choking him.” With Ennis like this, and Graham lost to them for now, she lost her battle to keep a brave face around her young charges and sobbed.

Macy tucked Ennis’s hands to his sides as he thrashed about in his bed. She went over to comfort Tala and guided her into the dining room.

“Tala, take a break. Let me try something,” Macy urged.

Macy went back into the kitchen with the applesauce bowl and poured the contents into a small cup and added a little cool water to make the concoction thick but drinkable. She listened outside of the bunkroom for a minute with the cup in hand. Ennis had continually writhed and kicked the sheets since his fever spiked.

Bang brought the wet towel Tala had asked for to Macy, who gazed at Ennis from the bunkroom doorway, wondering what she could do for him. The sopping cloth dripped onto the wood floor, and she absentmindedly accepted the waterlogged mass while she formulated a plan.

Suddenly, everything seemed to be falling apart. Ennis might die if they didn’t get the medications into him. Even though Tala hadn’t mentioned it, Macy suspected Graham was hurt somewhere or possibly dead. And, as Macy stood in the doorway, Tala softly cried in the other room. To top off Macy’s worries, her sister and the others were not back yet from their trip, though she didn’t expect them to return for a day or two.

With the cup in one hand and a dripping towel in the other, she stood until the
drip, drip
caught her attention and wondered briefly how the wet cloth came to be there in the first place. She glanced at Bang standing by her side with an expression of fear on his little face.

“Um, thanks, Bang. I don’t think I’m going to need these actually. Can you put the towel in the sink?”

He nodded and accepted the bundle, holding it to his chest and soaking his own shirt in the process.

She walked back into the bunkroom to meet the battle to save Ennis’s life despite himself.

“Let’s try something different, mister,” she whispered to herself and pulled a chair up close to his side.

She rubbed his forearm and called his name lightly. “Ennis. Ennis, it’s me, Macy. I have your water. I didn’t forget tonight. It’s story time.”

She waited another minute more, repeating the phrases until he had quieted down further.

He glanced at her with wild, anguished eyes for only a moment. She had the glass held high for his viewing. Once she was sure he had seen it, she set what she hoped would be the cure on his bedside table where he always kept his water at night, and picked up a book they continued to read together every evening.

“It’s time for bed, Ennis. I’ve got the story ready.” She patted his arm with her free hand while she began to read, holding her voice in a melodic rhythm in hopes of drawing him home.

Macy barely perceived Bang retreating from the doorway after watching them for several minutes. She sensed Bang’s helplessness, but she needed to focus on Ennis’s troubles right now. Graham had taught her to take one thing at a time, to finish one job before moving on to the next. She had learned that it worked with chores around the cabin and with people.

After Macy had read the third page, Ennis relaxed significantly and his eyes remained at a constant slit and were focused in her direction.

She turned the page and continued. Two additional pages later, he turned his head and acknowledged the glass on the side table. This action was routine for them, the water and the reading. She would always retrieve his water glass and sit beside him to read each night before he went to sleep. The complaints he made if she didn’t bring the water before she sat down bordered on tantrums.

Another page and then another. Macy began to worry he would never ask the question. If she preempted the query, the opportunity would be lost, and they would be back where they were before. She chanced a glance up at him between paragraphs, hoping his eyes would still be open as she patted his forearm with a steady cadence.

His milky stare opened in half-moons, and he must have detected in her own eyes the question she wanted him to ask. Instead of uttering the words, his rough, fever-heated hand gently clenched her elbow. He eyed the cup and pointed his chin toward it.

As if in the presence of a skittish deer, Macy shut the volume on her finger and reached out with her free hand, emulating nonchalant grace. She lifted the cup and held it for him as he sipped at the concoction he needed. As he swallowed, she gently stroked his throat with two fingers to encourage the elixir to stay down.

The triumph almost sent her to tears, but she instead placed a timid kiss upon his forehead. His eyes pleaded for more water, and she ran for the tap to oblige him.

As she filled the glass, Bang stood from a chair beside Tala, the question in his eyes reflected in hers as they both held their breaths for an answer. She only uttered, “Yes,” under her breath as she passed by them, still on her mission.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Tala smiled, her face streaming with tears of gratitude. Bang was fidgety with joy, but managed to contain himself. Although she’d already accomplished what she’d hoped for, Macy was still on the task of fixing Ennis. She returned with the glass and helped him take regulated sips until he motioned for no more. He lay back down, and she left the room quietly to join the others.

With that done, she should have thought to rest, to relax, but she did not.

Now I have to find Graham
.

“He drank it?” Tala asked, hopeful.

“Yes,” she whispered back, still in awe that the procedure had worked. “Thank God!” she said, and sobered at her next thought. “Now we’ll just have to convince him it’s story time again in another four hours.”

“Oh, I better get the radio out of there,” Macy said. “Clarisse will be calling us in a few minutes.” She tiptoed back into the bunkroom to retrieve the device.

“Tala, where’s Graham?” Bang asked again.

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Tala said and brushed the boy’s hair out of his eyes. “He must have stayed in town overnight. I’m sure he’ll come back to us in the morning. Don’t worry.” To Macy, who overheard the conversation on her return with the radio, it sounded as if Tala was trying to convince herself along with the boy.

“Ennis is sleeping well now. Bang, let’s go take care of the chickens, and we should all try to sleep while we can,” Macy said. She noticed how pale Tala had become and suspected what wasn’t being said. She had heard Tala throwing up, and the signs of pregnancy were apparent to her. She thought if Graham didn’t recognize the signs, he was the most stupid smart man she had ever known. She was also certain Graham would return if he was able to, and the fact that he still hadn’t come back worried her. She planned to go looking for him early the next morning, but she had to get Tala and Bang to sleep before she could sneak out, knowing Tala would never agree to let her walk into town.

As Bang and Macy began to bundle up for their outdoor chores, the radio buzzed and Tala answered. Macy waved good-bye while Tala took the call.

“How’s he doing? Were you able to get him to take the meds?” Clarisse asked.

“Well,
I
wasn’t able to, but Macy was. She’s a sly one, that girl. He’s asleep now and much less agitated, thanks to her.”

Clarisse laughed. “Oh, thank goodness. Now, try to do it again in another four hours. If he’s sleeping, though, just wait another hour or two. Try to get him to drink more water as well. Whatever works for him, repeat the process.”

“We will. Thank you, Clarisse. On the cameras there, do you see any new changes in town?” She knew she shouldn’t ask, but couldn’t help herself. When Clarisse didn’t answer the question right away, she wanted to put her face in her hands and cry again. She wished she had never told Graham of her concern for the girls. He shouldn’t have gone into town anyway, not right after a snowstorm. If it hadn’t been for their conversation, he would still be right here, helping with Ennis.

Clarisse had hoped Tala wouldn’t ask and looked wearily to Rick for answers. He took over the radio from there. “Tala, I keep checking, but no, I don’t see anything new. Sorry. Most of the town cameras are still frozen over. All of us here are trying to figure out if there’s something we can do,” Rick said.

“I know, Rick. Don’t feel bad. You guys have done so much for us already. I’m sure the truck just broke down or something. Hopefully, he’ll show up tomorrow, and I will have worried needlessly,” Tala said, trying to sound reasonable.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Rick said, but Clarisse could tell by his face he hated having to lie. So did she, and doing so only prolonged the pain. He handed the radio back to her. Poor Rick. He did not have the stomach for this.

“Well, hopefully Sam and his group will return tomorrow, and then they can go looking for him. Maybe he went out too far and got stuck, and he’s just waiting for Sam to figure it out when he gets back in a day or two. I’m sure Graham’s fine.” Clarisse tried to reason out a scenario with Tala. It was plausible, not probable, and Clarisse knew many different and more dire scenarios might also be playing out.

“Yeah, maybe that’s it,” Tala said. “He wouldn’t want me to worry about him.”

“We will call the minute we detect anything. Try to get some sleep, Tala. You sound so tired.”

“I will. Take care. Tala out.”

With the lack of sleep and the recent trauma she had gone through, Marcy felt exhausted. She had pulled over once to check on Mark’s breathing. He’d fallen into a light sleep, and the flesh around his neck wound swelled, but he still breathed slowly and steadily through the straw. A few times he panicked, but Sam was able to calm him down enough so that he remembered to take short and shallow breaths.

Sam also fell into a fitful slumber. Marcy inclined the passenger seat back for him as far as it would go, and he rested as comfortably as his injuries would allow, but he moaned and often jerked.

As she drove, the wind flapped the tarp where the window used to be. The cold was so intense on her side of the truck that she had to run the heat at full blast while trying to drive as fast on the icy and snowy roads as she dared. Before he fell asleep, Sam had moved his hand up and down a few times to tell her to slow down whenever he feared the truck might lose control. The last thing they needed was another accident, and she agreed.

She wanted to ask Sam how much farther they had to go to get home, but he slept well now and she didn’t want to disturb him. The drive out had taken more than a few hours with a few stops, so she reasoned they had several more hours to go before they got close to town. The road ran straight south now, unlike the winding curves from before, and she would recognize the familiar scenery of Cascade when they arrived.

Marcy stopped to refill the gas tank with the fuel they kept in the back and to check the chained tires, because she had seen Sam do the same thing at every stop and she didn’t want to miss anything. Everything looked well as far as she could discern. By the time she climbed back into the cab her hands were frozen; her breath was a shining vapor in the cold and clear evening air. She checked the pulse of both men, then started the engine, heading again toward home.

The stars shone brightly, which brought Marcy back to recent memories of sitting up in the deer stands on watch over her newly formed family. She still felt confused by this new situation. One minute she was lucky to be alive and grateful to Graham for having saved her; the next she resented the parental authority he now held over her, the power to control her destiny.

Almost in a daze with her own thoughts, she fought to stay awake on her drive home and remembered over and over what she’d done earlier. The muzzle flare and the blood splatter flashed in her mind.
The woman I killed. The golden-green eyes, staring.

She hadn’t eaten anything and ran on adrenaline alone, just to get back to Graham; he would help her get through this. But first she needed to keep herself together and get home. His voice rang in her head, “Keep moving forward, Marcy. You’re almost there, girl. Don’t regret. Finish strong . . .”

Clarisse surveyed the display screens for any detectable movements while Rick read through the tech booklets on how to defrost the town cameras. These particular cameras came with a remote defrost chip, but at these historic low temperatures, the damn things didn’t work well. He kept yawning; his lack of sleep was catching up with him.

Clarisse listened to him cuss and whine while she continued to monitor the cameras outside of Graham’s camp, following Macy and Bang back into their cabin, where she hoped they would lock themselves up for the night. She thought about Tala, and suspected something more in their earlier conversations, but kept silent. The extra emotion Clarisse sensed from her friend might have just come from her lack of sleep and worry over Ennis, even though Clarisse thought Tala as stoic as they come.

She would have to wait to share the big news about the vaccinations until they completed the injections and the antibodies were revealed through lab testing. Two weeks seemed an eternity for inoculation day, but then their vulnerability would be over.

“Rick, I’m too wired, and Dalton will be here in another hour or two. Why don’t you go get some sleep? I’ll keep watch until he arrives. I want to be by the line in case Tala calls in again anyway.”

“Are you sure? I can wait,” Ricks said with a yawn and a minor contemplation of Dalton’s warning, but he trusted Clarisse well enough to know she would not abandon the post to do anything risky.

“Seriously, I’m fine, but you’re exhausted, and I have a good view of my tent door from here in case Addy comes looking for me. It’s already midnight,” she said, checking the time. “I’ll buzz Dalton by three if he isn’t already here.”

Taking her up on her offer, he slapped the manual onto the table. “Sounds good to me. Maybe I’ll come up with something if I can get a few hours of decent sleep.”

He patted her shoulder on his way to the door. “Thank you, and if anything happens, just call me.”

Clarisse was happy to be able to do this for him. Rick had always sacrificed sleep for the camp, and he needed a few hours of uninterrupted downtime to be at his best annoying self. She checked the time again, double-checked the logs, and viewed each camera as Rick had taught her to do in the past; then she updated the mundane information.

In between the boring little jobs she read Rick’s manual for the cameras, dusted the electronic equipment, and began a list for supplies she would need in the quarantine lab and another list of her favorite childhood books she had hoped to beg, borrow, or steal for Addy to read.

That’s when she first got a whiff. Something was burning nearby. She checked the cameras again for anything unusual, then the wiring and equipment she’d dusted prior to list-making. Perhaps she had loosened something?

She stood up from under the desk table and thought the odor must be coming from the equipment, but as she came to a standing position, the smoky odor became even stronger. The smell of burning plastic hit her with alarm. Then the first visible sign of smoke drifting through the ambient light of the camera aimed through the dark part of the family resident tents.

“Oh God!” she yelled and wrenched open the door to find the source of the fire. Smoke billowed in the northeast end of camp. “My God!” She gasped. “The family quarters! The greenhouse!” She ran that direction, shouting, then flames erupted within the greenhouse, spewing toxic smoke from smoldering plastic into the air. She first thought of Addy, of course, but she slept in Clarisse’s own quarters, safe on the west side of the camp, where she and many of the other singles lived in smaller tents.

At this point training set in, and Clarisse ran back into the media tent and sounded the alarm to signal a fire emergency. Soon the camp was in a state of strategic mayhem. Clarisse ran for the water hose they kept for emergencies and began to drag the end toward the greenhouse, now engulfed in massive flames.

People spilled from their tents, armed and ready. Soon they realized the present danger and immediately went into fire contingency mode, manning their various posts. Strong voices yelled commands in the distance, but people ran around in alarm all the same.

Reuben was the first man on the scene to assist her with the hose, relieving her enough to set up a triage for the injured, out of harm’s way.

She searched the crowd for Steven, the medic, when she saw Rick out of the corner of her eye, running with something in his arms, shouting, “Clarisse! Help me!”

She sped toward him as he held his daughter, Bethany, who lay limp in his arms. Clarisse checked her pulse; the rhythm was there, but weak. All the while, Rick coughed, crying, “Save her! Save her, Clarisse!” His words were an order, not a plea.

He was desperate, almost insane. “Give her to me, Rick,” she demanded, forcibly taking Bethany from his arms. She laid the girl down on the cold ground in her fleece-footed pajamas and began CPR.

Rick put his hands on his knees and coughed again, trying to clear his own lungs. He swayed backward and took one last glance at his daughter as Clarisse worked on her, then ran back into the smoke for his wife.

Bethany began to cough, and Clarisse picked her up and ran beyond the media tent to the guarded entrance, where she would bring the other injured, away from the chaos. “Keep her sitting up and coughing,” she told the guard. She hoped there would be no more, but she could tell by how few were helping to put out the fire that the injured would likely be many.

Clarisse peered into the chaos before her and saw people scattering about, trying to put out the flames; by now they had grown massive, aided by the plastic fuel of the greenhouse walls. She searched the crowd for Steven again, needing his help. After glancing at her own quarters, ensuring they were still safe from the smoke and flames, safe for Addy, she turned back. A hoarse voice shouting her name spun her around. Steven came toward her with Rick, the pair of them carrying someone.

“Over here!” she yelled above the noise. They lay the body down and Clarisse stared, stunned, at Dalton’s unconscious form.

She suppressed all emotion and, with Steven’s help, went into work mode.

Bethany shouted, “Daddy!” and continued to cough smoke out of her laboring lungs as she ran to him.

“You stay right here by Clarisse,” Rick shouted. “I’m going to get your mom. She’s fine; she’s sitting with the boys. I’ll be right back with her.” He disappeared quickly once more into the smoke after taking another horrified glance at Dalton.

“Clarisse!” Steven shouted. “I’ve got to go back now. Kim’s still in there!”

“Go!” she yelled. She quickly assessed Dalton’s condition while somewhere deep inside she screamed in mad denial. Dalton could not be hurt!

But Clarisse’s professional self took over. Dalton was covered in soot and reeked of burned plastic, the fumes from it stinging her eyes. She tore open his shirt and laid her ear down onto his chest to listen. She heard his heartbeat, heard the struggle going on in his lungs. She wished she had the oxygen equipment from the quarantine building, but when his breathing faltered, she pulled his chin down and opened her mouth over his, pinching his nose as she breathed for him.

In moments he rolled away, coughing and retching. He pushed up on his elbows, contracting in coughing spasms while trying to open his eyes. She saw they were bloodshot and tearing excessively. Each time he tried to speak, the relentless coughing fits took over again.

Someone delivered yet another patient, and Clarisse turned her attention away from Dalton as he grabbed her arm, imploring her to wait until he asked what he needed to know.

He needed answers, but until he could speak, she needed to treat the others coming to her faster than she could assess them. She pulled gently away from his pleading grasp. So many were lying around her on the frozen ground needing help. Clarisse had no idea who had brought them or when they had arrived; she just went on doing what she could, encouraging people who could to sit up to cough out the poisons they’d inhaled.

She was dizzy with exertion but looked around for the next worst patient when Dalton finally found his voice and croaked out, “My sons? Kim?”

“I don’t know, Dalton,” she said.

She turned away again for the next one who needed saving, peripherally aware of Dalton rolling over and struggling to his feet, driven by pure will.

Rick rushed over with his wife Olivia, who had sustained minor burns on her arms while trying to reach the occupants of Dalton’s tent. Each of them carried one of Dalton’s sons. Both boys were conscious, but traumatized, and covered in soot. Bethany cried again and held her arms out imploringly when her mother approached. Rick sat the boys down with them, and Olivia stayed to comfort the children, cooing soft reassurances.

Rick searched for Steven through the smoke, knowing he was trying to bring in Kim, who’d looked too far gone when he helped to pull her from the smoke-filled tent. Clarisse performed CPR on another victim nearby, ignoring everything around her while trying to bring life back to just this one.

Steven finally made it through the heavy smoke and into clearer air. He knew he couldn’t wait to get Kim to the triage area. Instead, he laid her down hastily while the smoke rolled up and away. For the third time, he performed CPR on her. The first two times she hadn’t responded, but this time, without so much smoke around them, he hoped he could get her breathing.

He rhythmically compressed her chest and forced his own air into her lungs, continuing the routine over and over. “Help me,” he said when he saw Rick. “Take over compressions. I’ll breathe her.”

Rick dropped down and complied, counting out loud. Steven puffed air into the lungs he now feared would never draw it in again of their own volition. Patients with the worst of traumas sometimes have a look about them, and you know, despite your efforts, that they are beyond your reach; Steven recognized this in Kim. It was as if death marked her, and Steven’s efforts would be in vain.

He looked up, saw Dalton standing by, weaving and coughing, and redoubled his efforts. On and on it went, he and Rick working over Kim. They traded places, and Steven took over the compressions until his arms and shoulders ached, then he stopped, leaning back on his haunches.

“Switch?” Rick panted, but Steven only lowered his chin to his own chest. He shook his head slowly, sadly. “No.”

Dalton pleaded. He cried and yelled in agony and begged them to keep trying.

In no time Clarisse was there and crouched beside Steven. She rested her fingers on Kim’s throat, feeling for a pulse, but Steven already knew there was none. As her eyes confirmed it, he stood and took Dalton by the arm, wanting to lead him away, take him to his sons, but Dalton refused.

He reached for his wife, shoving Rick aside, and checked her pulse himself, coming away empty. Steven tried to hold him back. He tried to ease the coming reality from the man. In denial, Dalton shook his head. “No! You stopped too soon! Try again,” he pleaded, his voice ragged and cracked through his raw throat as the reality sunk in. He reached for Kim again to continue the work of saving her himself. He could barely move, but he made the effort.

Steven let him try, even though it was clear Kim was beyond retrieval from death’s grasp, and he knew Dalton was doing himself further harm with the effort. Finally Rick grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him squarely in front to face him. “Dalton. She’s gone, man. She’s gone.”

“No!” Dalton cried, causing another spasm of painful coughing. He dropped to his knees, and Steven held him while he choked out his grief. When he was able, Dalton asked in anguish, “Boys?” The word was more a plea for mercy from this horror, but in that small question he also accepted the finality of his wife’s death.

“They’re fine, they’re with Olivia,” Rick assured him. He helped Steven get Dalton to his feet and slung one arm over his own shoulder to lead him to his now motherless sons.

Steven picked up Kim’s body and carried her over to one side where he laid her beside two others Clarisse had been unable to save.

“We need to take count,” Steven said softly to Clarisse, who looked ghastly, exhausted, and as covered in soot as any who’d had to rush from the burning tents. She nodded, and covered Kim with a sheet.

Reuben suddenly showed up at Steven’s side. “Fire’s out, finally. We had to use a lot of our water supply, and the damage is extensive.”

There were broad burns on Reuben’s arm. “Over here!” Steven called to Clarisse, who was still staring down at Kim’s body.

“Oh, heavens!” she said, “Reuben, let’s get your arm bandaged.” Gently she tried to pull him away.

“No, I can’t,” Reuben answered. “There’s a body in the greenhouse still. It’s hard to tell who it was.”

Steven could see that the man was dazed, probably in too much shock to even be aware of his own injuries. “It doesn’t matter now, Reuben. Let us take you to the guard station. I’ll do a head count, a role call; we’ll find out soon enough.”

While they brought Reuben into the guard station, they heard the whimpering and saw the shock as tragedy finally seeped between the cracks in the plaster of what they’d all seen as their safe haven. Dalton desperately hugged his boys, holding them so tightly the older one looked out wild-eyed from behind his father’s shoulder.

Nearly everyone they passed was either crying or staring vacant-eyed at the smoking rubble, stunned by this terrible turn of events. As Clarisse tended to Reuben, Steven knew he and Rick would have to take over for Dalton right now. People were huddled in the dark and cold, unable to go back to their quarters, unable to function.