Madness Rules - 04 (15 page)

“How about we get you somewhere to rest?”

She nodded but didn’t open her eyes.

The closest house was a two-story home with a wraparound porch and faded yellow shutters. A sign out front read,
Mama Benson’s Bed and Breakfast
.

“You stay here while I check the house.”

She said nothing.

Tanner grabbed Samantha’s rifle and set it beside her. Sick or not, it was always better to have a gun within reach.

Snatching up his shotgun, he hustled up to the house. Like the home they had checked earlier, this one had a thick netting of cobwebs blocking the porch stairs. Obviously, no one had been in or out of the place for many weeks. He pushed through the web and tried the front door.

It was unlocked.

As soon as he stepped inside, he saw that everything in the house had been mothballed. The curtains had been taken down, sheets were draped over furniture, and stacks of cardboard boxes filled nearly every corner. He did a quick search of the downstairs and didn’t find anyone, alive or dead. Samantha would be happy to hear that, since she had an aversion to sleeping in buildings with dead bodies.

He raced up the stairs and did another quick walkthrough. There were a total of six bedrooms, but again, all were empty. It looked like a great place for them to rest for a while. He headed back out to Samantha, his gut beginning to twist as possibilities played out in his mind. What if her condition worsened? He sure as hell wasn’t a doctor. He was lucky to put a Band-Aid on straight, let alone diagnose or treat any kind of serious illness.

“Stop it,” he muttered. “There is suffering in this world. There’s nothing you can do to change that. The sooner you accept it, the happier your life will be.”

Rather than console him, the Buddhist tenet only heightened his worry. Sure, there was suffering. And sure, he was willing to take his fair share. But Samantha deserved to live a long and happy life, and he would do everything within his power to ensure that she got that chance.

Samantha lay sleeping on a queen-sized bed, a thick quilt draped across her. Every time he pulled it down, she would slide it back up, accusing him of trying to freeze her to death. He folded it down again careful not to wake her. Her fever had peaked, but wet rags on her forehead and chest were doing little to address the underlying cause. She needed a doctor.

Leaving her presented all sorts of fresh worries. What if her condition worsened before he could return? What would someone do if they found her in such a weakened state? While he could imagine all sorts of bad things that might happen if he left to get help, his gut told him that she would be in real trouble if he didn’t.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and flipped the wet rag on her forehead.

“Sorry,” she said softly.

“For what?”

“For getting sick.”

“I forgive you.”

“Am I going to die?”

“Someday.”

Her eyes slowly opened. “I mean, am I going to die today?”

“Of course not. You’ve got some kind of bug. Everyone gets those. You’ll be fine in a few days.”

“If I do die, promise you’ll tell my mom I was trying to come home.”

Tanner swallowed the lump in his throat.

“She’d probably throw me in jail.”

“Probably,” she said with the hint of a smile.

He reached under the cover and laid his hand on her stomach. She was still burning up.

“You’re going to leave me, aren’t you?” she said.

He hesitated. “I was thinking of going to get a doctor, maybe find a few medicines to help you heal up faster. I wouldn’t be gone long.” He looked around the room and out into the hallway as if to make sure they were still alone. “No one’s going to find you here.”

She glanced over at her rifle leaning against the chair.

“If they do, I’ll fight them. I promise.”

“I know you will.”

“Do me a favor?”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to get killed.”

“I was going to ask you to bring me a bottle of Yoo-hoo. I’ve got a terrible thirst for chocolate milk.”

He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead.

“You sleep. I’ll see what I can find.”

Based on its size, Tanner figured that Altoona probably had about fifty thousand inhabitants before the pandemic. Surely there were a few doctors left among the survivors. All he had to do was find one and convince him to come and take a look at Samantha. He couldn’t imagine that being too difficult. Everyone loved kids. And in the unlikely event that the doctor wasn’t altruistic by nature, Tanner would be more than happy to provide the necessary incentive.  

The most logical place to start looking would be at a large medical center. And according to his map, the Altoona Hospital was less than two miles from where he now stood. He started up the motorcycle, taking one final look back at the house where Samantha rested.

“She’ll be all right,” he told himself. The words sounded hollow, like they were spoken by a politician panning for a vote. “She’ll be all right,” he said again, this time with more conviction.

He pulled out into the street and sped toward Altoona. Over the next mile, the road took on several names, Buckhorn Road, Colonial Drake Highway, and finally, 18th Street. The sides were lined with tightly packed vinyl houses, and the closer he got to town, the more congested the road became.

Tanner saw two teenagers standing in front of one of the old houses, smoking cigarettes. One leaned a hunting rifle lazily against his shoulder, and the other wore two pistols slung across his chest like a Mexican bandito. Tanner placed his sawed-off shotgun on the handlebars of the bike and steered in their direction.

As he got closer, the two youths turned to face him. The one with the pistols tipped the guns forward for a faster draw.

Tanner pulled up and stopped directly in front of them, letting the bike idle quietly.

The young man with the rifle nodded, blowing out a mouthful of smoke.

“I’m looking for a doctor,” said Tanner. “Wondered if you could point me in the right direction?”

“You sick or something?” he asked, taking a step back.

“Probably just the clap. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to get the old weed whacker checked out.”

The two teens looked to one another unsure of what to make of the stranger.

“Mister, you’re not going to have much luck in Altoona. You’ll have to take your…” he chuckled, “weed whacker over to Pittsburgh.”

“Not a single doctor in the whole town?”

The boy with the pistols chimed in.

“Oh sure, there are a few left. But they all work for the Merchant now.”

“Who’s the Merchant?”

“He’s the guy who basically runs the town. If you want anything, you have to go through him. But from the looks of it, you don’t have much he’d want. Maybe the bike, I don’t know. I think he’s got a lot of that kind of stuff already.”

“Where do I find this Merchant fella?”

“You won’t have to find him. One of his guards is blocking the road up ahead. He’ll stop you on your way in. I imagine if you ask, he’ll take you to see him.”

Tanner nodded his thanks and gave the bike a little gas. If getting a doctor required seeing the Merchant, then that’s what he would do.

The boy with the rifle shouted after him.

“He won’t help you though.”

Tanner gripped the handlebars of the bike a little tighter.

“We’ll see.”

The man guarding 18th Street wasn’t in uniform, but there was no doubt that he was all business—M16, high and tight haircut, and a clean-shaven face. He looked like a commando trained to inflict every manner of hell on his enemies. As soon as he saw Tanner approaching, he took up a defensive position behind the barricade of cars.

Tanner raised one hand high into the air and waved. When he got to within twenty or thirty yards, he braked to a stop and waited for the man to make the next move.

Commando came straight at him, deliberate and practiced, rifle glued to his shoulder.

“State your business in Altoona,” he demanded.

“I’m looking for a doctor.”

“You got the pox? We don’t allow anyone with the pox into town.”

Tanner thought about using the same clap joke, but Commando didn’t seem like a man who appreciated juvenile humor. Better to keep it simple and to the point.

“I have a sick kid a few miles outside town. It’s not the pox. Folks told me to go see the Merchant to arrange for a doctor.”

Commando took a moment to look him over.

“Doctors are expensive.”

“I can pay.”

He nodded. “Stay here. I’ll call it in.”

Commando returned to his position and radioed in the request. About ten minutes later, a red and white cruiser approached with the words
Fire Chief
painted on the side. A man got out, and the two of them talked briefly. When they were finished, Commando waved Tanner over.

“You’ll surrender your weapons and follow me into town on your motorcycle. Understand that we have strict laws in Altoona. If you do anything illegal, I won’t hesitate to shoot you.”

“Don’t worry,” Tanner said with a reassuring smile, “I’ve always done my best to stay on the right side of the law.”

The Merchant was conducting business out of the Altoona First Savings Bank, a single-story brick building with stubby white pillars out front. The parking lot was clear except for a few potential traders coming and going. The entrance was guarded by four heavily armed men, all of whom looked like they had hired on from Blackwater.

Tanner was taken inside, made to wait a few minutes in the entryway, and then ushered into an office at the back of the bank. Behind a pedestal desk sat a sweaty little man with a round face and even rounder glasses. He looked like Harry Potter might if he had spent the last ten years at Hogwarts, carousing and womanizing. Despite his soft, disheveled appearance, his eyes shone with both intelligence and guile.

He studied Tanner carefully, motioning for Commando to wait outside the door.

“You want a doctor.” It was a statement, not a question.

“My kid’s sick. I need someone to come and take a look at her. Maybe give her some medicine.”

The Merchant smiled slightly. “I’m sorry about your daughter. I really am.”

Tanner nodded.

“Did my men explain how we operate here?”

“More or less. You’ve set up a barter system, trading goods and services.”

“That’s right. And do you have something to trade?”

“I’ve got a kid desperate for care. Surely, that’s worth a couple hours of someone’s time.”

He offered a sad smile.

“No, I’m sorry, but it’s not. We facilitate exchanges, not handouts. There are no exceptions to this, Mister…”

“Tanner.”

“Mister Tanner. No exceptions whatsoever. As far as medical care, it is one of the most expensive services we offer.”

“All right,” Tanner said, not at all surprised. “Would it be okay to make my case to the doctors directly?”

“There’s no law against it if that’s what you’re asking. But it won’t do you any good. They all work for the town now.”

“The town? Or you?”

“Mr. Tanner, despite what you might think, I am not a bad man. I was elected to help the town survive. A month ago, we had nothing. People were struggling to eat, to find clean water, to feel safe at night. Now, we have a system that everyone understands. Some bring in food. Others need that food. We simply facilitate the trading.”

Tanner wanted to argue his case, but he saw no point. The Merchant was not a man who would be swayed by emotion or need. He was quite simply a businessman, and businessmen survived by carefully weighing profits and losses. And that, he thought, might be his way in.

“Understand this,” he said, “if we can’t resolve this peacefully, you and I will find ourselves on opposite sides of a disagreement. If that comes to pass, it would not be good for your business. I can promise you that.” Tanner looked over his shoulder and weighed his chances of disarming Commando and shooting the Merchant in the face. Not good, but not impossible either.

The Merchant took a moment to consider his next move carefully.

“There might be a way,” he said slowly.

“How?”

“Everything about you tells me that you’re a very hard man, perhaps harder than any in my employ. That is a skill that could serve you well in Altoona.”

“As what? A guard? I don’t have time—”

“No, not a guard. We have,” he hunted for the right words, “a fight club.”

“A fight club?”

“People love to see a good fight. In fact, they pay handsomely to see and bet on such events.”

“What kind of fights?”

“Bare knuckles, usually. The winner comes away with a white card, the loser a black card. Those cards can be brought here and traded for goods or services, anything from a box of food to a full night with a beautiful woman. They are quite valuable.”