Internet Kill Switch (22 page)

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The next morning, the time had come to leave Anderson. Tony's leg felt about the same as before, or maybe a bit worse. He said it was better, though, because he didn’t want to bring Scarlett down any more. He could tell from her somber mood she’d still been thinking about Abby. Rick, on the other hand, felt fantastic; energized and ready to shoot off down Route 40 at 70 miles an hour.

At least the weather had turned better; warmer and sunny. They all
got into shorts, and Scarlett changed Tony's bandage. She didn't think the wound looked better; in fact, she thought it looked and smelled worse. She didn't like Tony's color either, which was paler than the day before. He told her, though, that the rest had helped and he was ready to ride, so she let it go.

Their destination for the day was Knoxville, which was a little more than 100 miles away. It sounded like a grueling ride, and they had a big breakfast to prepare for it: the apples Rick had bought, along with various energy bars and potato chips.

"You know much I'd love some bacon?" Tony asked.

"Only if you kill the pig yourself. No refrigeration,
so no bacon from stores," Rick said.

"If we run across one, I just might," Tony said as they set off for the highway. Scarlett took the lead, sprinting off at a race-like pace. Tony had some trouble keeping up because of his leg, but didn't complain. He thought he knew why Scarlett bolted ahead: She wanted to leave the memories of this place behind her as quickly as possible. Rick had no problem keeping up, and hummed
Satisfaction
as they headed east.

The morning and afternoon had passed, and evening was coming on, as they approached Knoxville. Tony had taken multiple doses of Motrin and Tylenol, which helped. But as the sun got low behind them, he had increasing difficulty keeping up, even though they kept slowing down to find a pace he could maintain for more than 20 minutes. Then he began to cough and wheeze. Scarlett rode beside him for the last several hours, encouraging him, trying to keep him going. After awhile, though, it was no use. Tony simply couldn't go on. Scarlett took Max out of his backpack and had Tony hold the phone, to get his vital signs.

"Not good, Scar
lett," Max said. "Fever of 103, pulse 125, blood pressure 90 over 50, shallow breathing. He needs rest, and now. I'm worried about him."

Scarlett didn't need to hear any more. "Time to find a place to stop, Rick."

Rick badly wanted to make it to Knoxville, but understood the seriousness of the situation. "OK. I think we've done around 80 miles anyway, which puts us pretty close to our goal."

They turned off the highway at an exit a few miles away, and pulled into the little
village of Planter, Tennessee. Tony could barely move the pedals on his bike, and he'd turned a shade of gray that scared both Rick and Scarlett. Sweat dripped down his face, and he hunched over his handlebars, looking out through fevered eyes.

They pulled into the first house they could find off the main road, a small,
beige home with a white picket fence. The front yard was well-tended, if small. Rick and Scarlett hopped off their bikes and helped Tony off of his. He more fell off than climbed off, then collapsed into Rick's arms. Rick dragged him to the front door, behind Scarlett. She knocked on the door urgently and looked back at Tony. He looked like he might pass out at any second. Please, God, let someone be here, she thought.

After a moment, the door opened a crack. There was a chain on it. Looking out from the crack was a brown eye and dark, weathered face.

"What you want?" the question was suspicious.

Scarlett answered, her voice urgent and worried. "Please, ma'am, my friend is very sick. Do you know if there's a hospital or somewhere nearby where he could get help?"

The woman looked at Tony. "Bring him closer," she said, her voice less hard-edged now.  They moved Tony in front of the door. The woman looked him up and down, and her voice came through again.

"You not here with anyone else?"

Scarlett answered again. "No ma'am. Just me -- my name's Scarlett -- and my friends Rick and Tony. He has a bad leg wound."

The door closed and the woman removed the chain. She opened the door a bit wider, stuck her head out and looked around. Then she looked at Tony again. "OK, bring him in house," she said, waving them in. "Quickly, quickly."

Once they were in, she put the chain back on the door and locked the deadbolt. "Must be very careful these days," she said. "People using all sorts of tricks to get what they want."

She ushered them into a guest bedroom, and had them lay Tony down on it. "Let me have look at him
," she said, and began examining Tony.

As she did, Scarlett
studied the woman. She was clearly Native American, and had some kind of feather in her hair; it looked like a peacock feather. Her hair was long and white, held off her face with a beaded headband of some kind.

She looked extremely old; wrinkles crisscrossed her face and hands like spider webs.
Her eyes were dark brown and deep-set; also quick, despite the woman’s age. They took in everything, including Scarlett when the old woman looked her over. Those eyes penetrated Scarlett for a few seconds, then went to Tony’s face, searching, then back to Scarlett. At that moment, Scarlett was sure that the woman knew she loved Tony. The feeling unnerved her.

The
old woman continued her exam, feeling Tony’s pulse and looking closely into his eyes. She moved around him with tiny, shuffling steps, the way one moves across ice for fear of slipping. It increased the sense of her immense age. Scarlett was sure this was the oldest woman -- the oldest person -- she’d ever seen.

Her leathery face
reflected concern as she took the bandage off Tony's leg and examined the wound. By now, all the stitches were out and the redness was brighter than ever. If Tony was aware of the exam, he showed no signs. He shivered and moaned softly. The woman moved slowly, deliberately. Her fingers touched all around the wound, pressing lightly. She watched Tony’s reaction each time she moved a finger. She then took her hand and pressed the back of it against Tony’s forehead.

"This not good," she said. "Tony has fever from infected leg.
Temperature about 104. He delirious now. Leg very bad. Needs treatment."

Scarlett put her hand to her mouth.
“We need to get him to a hospital as soon as possible.”

“No,” said the woman. “No need. I treat him here. Hospitals too full anyway
, turning people away. He need help now, not tomorrow or next day or whenever you can get him to hospital. He die if he have to wait.”

“You can treat him?” Rick asked. “You know what to do?”

“Yes,” the woman said. “I help sick people for long time. I have medicines he needs. He very sick, but not beyond help yet. I go get what I need.” She left the room. After a minute, a strange fragrance drifted into the room while they talked; a flowery, earthy aroma.

Rick and Scarlett talked quickly and quietly while the woman was gone. “What do you think, Rick? Do we trust her?”

“I don’t know. If he’s that sick, maybe we should get him to a hospital. I hear a lot of the small ones aren’t open anymore, but most of the big ones are at least partially working, using generators. I’d bet Knoxville has a couple of open hospitals.”

“But how do we get him there?”

Rick thought a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe we could hook up some kind of trailer to my bike, like a wagon or something, and I could haul him to Knoxville.”

“But that could take a lot of time to find and set up. Then you’d have to get him there,
find a hospital, and hope you could get him seen.”

“Yeah, it seems like a lot of wasted time, when this woman seems to know some medicine.”

Scarlett thought about the look the woman gave her, then Tony. “She spooks me a little bit.”

Rick chuckled. “No lie. How old do you think she is?”

“I’m no good at guessing ages, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she was 100.”

“Me
, neither.” Scarlett grabbed Max. “Max, what do you think?”

“I think we should listen to the woman. She knew almost exactly what Tony’s temperature was
, just by feeling his forehead. It certainly looked like she knew what she was doing from the exam. Besides, she said Tony will die if he doesn’t get help soon, and I believe her. If she thinks she can help, I’d say it’s our best shot.”

Rick and Scarlett nodded at each other. “We’re
together on this,” Scarlett said.

Shortly after that
, the woman returned with a teacup on a saucer. A brownish liquid filled the cup about two-thirds, and was obviously the source of the smell coming from the other room. She put a wrinkled, knobby hand under Tony’s head and lifted it gently, putting the teacup to his lips.

“Drink this. It not too hot,” she said.
Tony sipped it, making an unpleasant face. The woman smiled. “It heal good, but I not say would taste good,” she said as he drank more, eventually emptying the cup. She got him another cup, and made him drain it again.

“What is that?” Scarlett asked.

“Special tea,” she said. “Burdock root, golden seal, bear root, sage, boneset, other things.”

Rick looked a little alarmed.
“Roots and leaves? Will that help?” The woman checked Tony’s eyes again, ignoring Rick.

He didn’t like being ignored.
He spoke up again, his frustration showing. “Shouldn’t we get him to a doctor?” Scarlett winced a bit inwardly; Rick was so impatient. But the woman looked at Rick calmly, not showing the slightest trace of being offended.

“You did.”

“You’re a doctor?” he asked, incredulously.

Scarlett wished, again, that Rick had a
shut up
toggle switch in his brain. But the woman just nodded slowly. “‘Doctor’ in your tribe, ‘medicine woman’ in mine,” she said. “I treat without hospital, without needing electricity, without modern distractions. Good thing for Tony I do, since those things not around,” she said, leaving the room again.

Scarlett walked to the bed and touched Tony’s arm. “How do you feel? We can try to get you to a hospital in Knoxville...”

Tony interrupted her. “No, no. I feel better now. Just a little, but that tea seems to be helping, even if tastes like liquid dirt.”

“But you should get real medical help,” Rick said. “This ‘medicine woman’ wants to treat you with grass and seaweed.”

“Well, she’s helped so far,” Tony said. “And she didn’t have to. Max is right; I don’t want to move any more. I just want to lay here...” he closed his eyes and put his arm over them.

The conversation ended when the woma
n came back in the room with a wooden box in her hand. She opened it and took out a pad about the size of a paper towel. The pad was brown, and had a different smell from the tea. The woman laid the towel on Tony’s wound and let it sit for a few minutes. Tony showed no reaction, keeping his arm over his eyes; whether because of pain, because he didn’t want to see what the woman was doing, or for some other reason, Scarlett couldn’t tell.

The woman
took out a needle and thread, took the towel off and started stitching Tony’s gash back up. She worked slowly and deliberately, the way she seemed to do everything. Tony sucked in breath at the beginning, but soon relaxed. He let his arm drop from eyes, but still kept them closed.

Even though the woman appeared to
work slowly, it wasn’t long before she was done. After the stitches were in, she re-wrapped the wound in gauze. Then she patted Tony’s head gently. “You sleep now, Tony. Feel much better in the morning, I think.” She took tiny steps out of the room and into another room. Scarlett and Rick followed her.

They we
re in the living room. Although they expected it to be full of Native American artifacts, they found to their surprise that it looked much like a typical middle-class American room: peach walls, a brown sectional couch, glass coffee table, wingback chair and blue loveseat. Rick noticed almost immediately that there was no television.

The woman put the medical kit on a table next to the wingback chair and sat down slowly. Once in the chair, her shoulders drooped and her head sank a bit. She looked completely exhausted.

“Can I get you something to drink”? Scarlett said. The woman nodded.

“
Wine bottle on shelf next to stove.”

Scarlett
entered the kitchen, and immediately noticed that the stove was wood-burning and made of iron. A kettle sat on top. So that’s how she made the hot tea without electricity, Scarlett thought. She’d been stumped by that since the old woman had brought the cup in to Tony.

She found the wine in an unmarked bottle, and
filled a glass about halfway. She gave it to the woman, who took a few sips. She sat in her chair for 15 minutes, eyes closed; Rick and Scarlett thought she’d fallen asleep. But then she suddenly spoke.

“
Sorry. Work tire me out. I old for this.”

“Tony said he was feeling better already,” Scarlett said.