The Last Stand (Book 3) (The Repentant Demon Trilogy) (11 page)

“Biological agents are often not fatal for days after the onset of symptoms, so we have no idea how big this problem may become.  Based on interviews with victims' families, all had eaten at restaurants within the 24-hour period before getting sick.  But they all ate at different establishments.  There has not been a single factor as yet between any of the victims.

“We will go to a spokesman for the CDC in Atlanta, Doctor Abraham Dierdorph making an announcement live from headquarters that may be able to shed some light on these disconcerting events.”

He continued after a brief introduction, “We would like to inform the public for their safety and protection about the facts concerning the recent poisonings throughout our nation and to advise them of precautions they might take.  Although we do not have definitive evidence to establish with certainty the exact nature of these attacks, we have every reason to believe it was a conspiracy involving tens and perhaps hundreds of perpetrators.”

“We think that poisons were introduced into the food supply in an individualistic though random manner.  It could have been done in so simple a method as secretly slipping a drop of the poisoning agent into someone's beverage when they were distracted or spraying a tiny amount of diluted poison onto the vegetables in a salad bar using a container small enough to hide in a shirt-sleeve.  We do not think that any food production plants or water treatment facilities have been contaminated, as was first suspected.

“It is advisable that for the time being, the public refrain from eating at restaurant soup and salad bars.  Also, it is advisable that anyone with nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, sweating, breathing difficulties, fever, cough, hallucinations, seizures, or blood in their urine please seek medical help as soon as possible.  Do not be afraid that you are over-reacting or that your symptoms are unrelated to this event.  Often patients do not seek help until it is too late.”

The group in the Callahan living room sat in stunned silence as the newscast continued re-iterating the information already previously reported.  They knew what had happened, knew what they faced, and did not know how all of it would end.  Their freedom to leave the compound had been curtailed now indefinitely.  Now they had only to wait for Christmas to arrive along with the next wave of attacks—the nuclear plant attacks.

Mike and Nathan arose from the sofa feeling a need to get back to their families who were undoubtedly watching the same news events now that their TV’s had recently been connected to the satellite system.

As if on cue, a knock at the door startled them until they saw that Stephen Edwards, Nathan's son, had ridden by himself up to the cabin on a bicycle.  It was dark by now, and everyone was alarmed that he had set out alone to travel the two-mile trek regardless of the fact that they now resided within twelve-foot high armed protective barriers. 

“Dad,” he said entering, “Mom's contractions are coming very close together.  She said you should come home now.”

“You left your wife in labor, son?” asked Mike.  “What were you thinking?”

“She insisted, Dad,” he answered, quickly donning his thick winter coat.  “Ruthie wanted me to find out what was happening with Abby and Uma and listen to the news.  Our reception isn't as good in the valley.  Jerry's looking into it.  And believe me, she knows what she's doing.  Sandra is with her.  We'll have little Rayetta here within the hour, I'll bet.”

Everybody cheered him on, secretly holding back a little concern about them facing this challenge alone without medical help.

“Boy, that sure wasn't me,” laughed Uma when they were gone, “I wanted a hospital and all the pain-killers they'd give me.  How about you, Abby?  You up for Cal delivering your baby in a log cabin?”

“I'd trust Cal with my life any day,” she said smiling, “but I don't know how he feels about that.”

“I think I'd like the professionals to do their jobs,” he said, “but with the way they seemed to be bungling everything, I’m not so sure if I trust them at all.  That was too scary, almost putting you in danger with those tests.”

“We've got a while before we need to be concerned about childbirth,” said Abigail, “but I kind of like the idea of doing it like Ruthie.  I've read a little about it, and it does seem that God made us to give birth more naturally than how they treat it in hospitals.  I think a lot of the procedures are mainly for the doctor's convenience, or for their protection from lawsuits.”

“Well lawsuits wouldn't happen,” added Brady, “if mistakes didn't happen.  What if you'd had that X-ray or a CT scan?”

“That kind of makes Abby's point,” considered Uma aloud.  “Maybe all that stuff they do to you could do more harm than good.  It's something to think about.  I know in the old days a lot of women died in childbirth, so I see both sides.”

The sound from the television news shows still droned in the background.  The conversation drifted toward when the government was going to supply them with the military phones as promised, how good the fishing had been that morning for the Edwards and Decker families, and why none of the poison attacks had occurred in the west; not a single one.  They couldn't help but wonder if there was something else planned for them, and if they would be ready for it.

*   *   *

It was December 20, and Abigail was with Uma and Sandra at the McFarland lodge helping bake mountains of Christmas cookies for the party.  They had made gingerbread men and had invited little Claudia to come later with Jodie to help decorate them.  A large turkey thawed in the sink, and Uma brought in a large pumpkin and some apples from their dry storage walk-in pantry to make pies during the next few days. 

When someone was heard knocking at the door, they yelled for them to come in, thinking it was Jodie with Claudia.  But it was an officer carrying a large bag.

“I have phones for all of you, Ma'am,” he said, sticking his head inside, knowing he wasn't expected.

Uma came forward to receive their phones, taking one for Brady who was out teaching Cal how to hunt and shoot.  The young man explained that since no one had been home at the other cabin, they should take their phones as well, and he registered the numbers with the correct names onto a pile of papers on his clipboard.

“They look almost like normal cell phones,” said Abigail with surprise, “I was expecting some big, clunky, box-like thing with wires hanging out of it.”

“They are hardly normal,” beamed the officer proudly, “These are submergible, will withstand a fall onto concrete from a four-story height, and you can call anywhere in the world, all on the U.S. Government's dime.” the officer explained.

“The number keys are a little wider apart,” Uma noticed.

“That’s right,” replied the officer, “so you can dial wearing gloves.  You can call from a mile underground, even from a submarine.  So you can all talk to each other now.  And you can order pizza… though no one will deliver this far.  Believe me, I've tried.”

Abigail already missed Imo's pizza. Imo’s had been her favorite back in Saint Louis.  She also missed teaching, and wondered if she would ever again be able to go on archaeological excavations in the Middle East.  If she took the time to make a list, there would be a long one of all the little things once taken for granted that would soon disappear forever. 
But now is the time to plan for a future with my husband and all these new people in my life, not dwell on the past,
she told herself.

As the officer left, Cal and Brady were coming back through the door carrying two dead rabbits.  Abigail felt nauseated at the sight of them and ran to the bathroom covering her mouth.

“Oops, I forgot about her sensitive condition,” apologized Brady, “I wanted to show off what a marksman her man had become in only one day.  He just has a knack for it.  Look here,” he said pointing to the cold, dazed face of the dead rabbit, “right through the skull.  Dead center.  It's like he's a born marksman.”

“I'm sorry,” said Abigail, coming back into the room, “I thought I was about over all that since I've discovered ginger ale.”

“I’ll take these outside and process them,” Brady said.  “You tell her what we found out, Cal.”

“There's a tower way up on the mountain,” said Cal, “and it wasn't there last year at this time.  It's equipped with several dishes, probably for communications.”  He nodded and smiled as Abigail held up their two new cell phones.

“When he told me we could call anywhere in the world,” she said wistfully, “you know who I thought about calling?  The Jabbar family.  I wonder how they're doing.”

“They didn't have a phone, did they?” asked Cal, not remembering if he noticed.  Back then, he was a demon following Abigail around, and he noticed very little that didn't concern his mission.

“I wonder if I'll ever see them again,” she mused.  “Crazy as it seems, I'd like to see that little camel they named after me, Abba Gallal.  And when I was shopping for the Christmas gifts, it reminded me of giving the Jabbar kids their presents.”

“Do you ever think about Doug?” he asked somberly, referring to the man she almost married—Doug Anderson.  The others stared at the two of them silently, not knowing about this man from her past.

“I did, for a while,” she admitted, “but not with regrets.  I'm glad for everything that has happened, but most of all that you came into my life, and that I have you now.”

He started to hug her, then realized he had blood on the front of his jacket.  Pointing to it, they gave each other a nod promising to save it for later.  Then he went outside to help Brady clean the rabbits.

“I overheard you talking about having some Arab friends,” said Uma.  “I don't think it would be a good idea to call any Muslims right now.  These cell phones are a gift from the government, remember?  So they're probably bugged.”

“These Arabs I knew in Iraq were Christians,” she said.  “Secretly, of course.  They lived in fear of persecution their whole lives.  Did you know that over sixty per cent of Arab Americans are Christian?  And most of them are Catholic.”

“Well that's surprising,” said Uma, “So who are the ones attacking us?”

“I don't know the answer to that,” said Abigail. “But apparently, their organization is much bigger and more sophisticated than we had ever imagined.”

Brady came through the door announcing that their company had arrived.  Jodie and little Claudia entered with faces flushed pink from the cold.  Claudia could not contain her enthusiasm.

“Wait till you see the baby,” she said, exploding with excitement.  “She's so cute.  The boys said she looks like an alien, but that's not true.  She has a little bit of hair.  Aliens don't have hair, and they're green.”

“I'm dying to see her,” said Abigail, “but I wanted to give Ruthie time to rest.”

As she spoke the words, who walked through the door but a rosy-cheeked Ruthie wearing a huge lump across her front.  Cal, now out of his blood-soaked jacket, had finished with the rabbits and helped her out of her wraps.

“Are you crazy, girl?” exclaimed Uma.  “It's twenty degrees outside.”

“She's all warm and snugly inside my parka next to my breast,” explained Ruthie, unwrapping herself to expose a soft, pink little bundle of human being.  The ooh's and ahh's were simultaneously delivered by all the women present.  Cal looked at the infant in amazement of how small she was, and how appealing.  Babies had never interested him before, but now he had changed his mind about them.  They didn't look nearly as raw and unfinished as he used to consider them; so much weaker and helpless than newborns of other species.

“You rode a bicycle over two miles of gravel road after giving birth less than twenty-four hours ago?” said Abigail, reaching out as Ruthie handed the baby to her.  “I definitely want you there when my baby is born.  I would be too ashamed to make a single moan or groan in front of you.”

“I've just been blessed with a hardy child-bearing constitution,” said Ruthie.  “It runs in the family.  My mother had eight, and all my ancestors had large families.  Not everyone is so lucky.  If you want to scream, then scream.”

“She's perfect,” said Abigail, moving the blanket to see more of little Rayetta.  “Look at that beautiful red hair, just like her daddy and her grandpa.”