Without (10 page)

Embarrassing myself, I needed Alison to give me a boost to
get on the back of Wes’s horse. I was almost in tears the first time I tried.
Hiding the pain wasn’t an option. On horseback I was able to put a couple miles
under my feet that I didn’t have to walk. It was in the wrong direction, but I
couldn’t care less.

I knew any law enforcement in the city would be dissolved in
a matter of hours after the event. Without communication or transportation,
police officers were no better off than we were. Their only advantage over most
was easy access to weapons and ammunition. In most contingency plans officers
would fall back to defensive positions such as police stations or government
buildings. After that I knew there were no plans.

During the hurricane that erased Cape Cod, we learned a few
things about civil obedience to established laws. There was none. Initial
projections for the city of Boston after the storm were that two thirds of law
enforcement evacuated with the civilians. Most were trying to get to their
families, disregarding protocol to make sure their loved ones were safe. I
don’t blame any of them.

A sad statistic that emerged when the smoke cleared was that
several officers committed suicide. The notes left behind were apologies to the
people they swore an oath to protect. They were overwhelmed with the guilt of
knowing their actions contributed to the deaths of both civilians and officers
whom they left behind. The brave cops who stayed were grossly outnumbered by
the roaming gangs of cowards taking whatever they wanted.

“How many of you are there?” I asked, sliding off the horse.
(The dismount was prettier.)

“Including me, five rangers and a handful of others,”
replied Wes. “We started with seven rangers, but I understand the reasons why
the other two left. One has a daughter with leukemia and the other is the sole
provider for a young family of six. They’re both good men. I suspect they’ll be
returning with their people soon. We all have a better chance if we stick
together. Things are gonna get worse in a hurry.”

“Yes, they are,” I said, rubbing my side as we walked into
the station.

“You need to let Alison take a look at that,” said Wes.
“She’s a damn good medic. You can stow your gear in the last room on the right.
That’ll be your quarters for tonight.”

“Wes,” I said, stopping him in the hall. “I’m grateful for
what you’re doing for me. I know your resources are limited and strangers
probably make you nervous.”

“We’ve had our share of trouble, but so far nothing we
couldn’t handle ourselves,” said Wes, patting his sidearm.  “Sometimes you just
know when folks are looking to cause problems. When we get that feeling, we
handle it pretty quick. I don’t have that feeling with you.”

“I won’t change that,” I said.

“Let’s take a look at your ribs,” said Alison, walking in
the building.

I put down my pack – guns and all – in the room. I met Alison
in the infirmary a few doors down. Their clinic was impressive for a ranger
station.

“I borrowed some things from a few abandoned ambulances in
town,” said Alison, noticing me admiring their stock. “This used to be our
classroom, but we had a feeling the power was going to be out for a while.
Setting this room up was our second priority.”

“What was the first?” I asked.

“Burying our dead,” replied Alison. “We had some trouble on
the first day.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“So were the ones that did it,” said Alison, lowering her
head. She changed the subject. “Let’s take a look.”

I unbuttoned my shirt, getting a good view of my injury for
the first time. I was surprised at the ugly colors of the football-sized
bruise.

“Nice work,” said Alison. “You don’t know what it was?”

“No idea,” I said. “I was too busy inhaling water.”

“You’re lucky to be alive.”

“I’ve said that to myself a few times this week.”

I winced when she touched the bruise, but she was able to
confirm they weren’t broken. There wasn’t much she could do except offer me a
few pain pills. I didn’t want to take from them so I declined, letting her know
I carried a bottle in my pack.

“It’s what we can’t see that I’m worried about,” said
Alison. “Developing pneumonia is fairly common after taking in a lungful of
dirty water. It’ll take a day or two to start noticing any symptoms. You’re in
good shape, so your chances of beating it are better than most. But if it starts
beating you, we have broad-spectrum IV antibiotics we can give you. That should
do the trick.”

“Thanks, Doc,” I said, “but I need to head out at first
light.”

“That’s not a good idea,” said Alison. “I said you
may
beat it. More than likely someone will find your body on the side of the road
in a few days. Why are you in such a rush? Family?”

I didn’t answer.

“Listen, just stick around for thirty-six hours,” said
Alison. “By then we should know if you’re going to get sick. Wherever you need
to go will still be there in a day and a half. You’ve made it almost ten days
out there alone. That tells me you’re at least a little smart. So you tell me
now, does walking away from a couple bags of fluid that could save your life
sound smart?”

“It does not,” I conceded.

“Good,” replied Alison, smiling. “It’ll be nice talking to a
new face over dinner.”

“I don’t want to impose,” I said. “I have food with me.”

“Nonsense. We have plenty. You need to save what you’re
carrying for the road. We have a washroom out back in a shed. You’re filthy.”

“That, I am,” I said, trying to run fingers through my
mud-caked hair.

“The others should be back shortly with dinner, but take
your time getting cleaned up. I’ll put some clothes for you to wear by the shed
door while yours dry.”

“Thank you,” I said. “For everything.”

“Our pleasure,” said Alison, leaving the room.

I ran into two more rangers on my way out to the wash shed.
They were informed of my presence, and like Wes and Alison they were very
accommodating and hospitable. This group was well disciplined and confident. I
attributed their state of readiness, and their high spirits, to a good leader.

With so many guns in the hands of the good guys, I didn’t
feel the need to carry mine. Under any other conditions I’d keep all of them
within my reach. I liked to think they sensed that, if a fight came their way,
I’d be standing beside them. The way they were treating me guaranteed it.

When I walked inside the shed, I became more impressed with
the rangers. The washroom was spotless. Two tubs of clean water, one with a
washboard, were situated near a counter full of cleaning supplies. Beside the
tubs was an ironing board. On the shelf beside it an antique iron, which I
presumed they heated on the fire pit outside the door, answered my question
about how they pressed their uniforms. But the
pièce
-de-résistance
was the shower they had built.

It was a large stall with some type of water supply coming
from a pipe through the wall. I walked over to the only window on the shed to
discover its source. They had built a tall platform with two steel barrels
perched on top. Underneath was a fire pit to heat the water when the weather
turned cold.

These guys were not only well-disciplined and confident,
they were highly efficient and incredibly resourceful. This ranger station was
a great example of how people were going to survive in the coming months, or
even years. As a team, they built replicas of modern conveniences without power
that helped maintain morale and a sense of camaraderie. As a team, I knew
they’d defend it with no hesitation. These were the type of people who didn’t
give warnings. These were the people who had a chance.

After taking a soothing shower and washing my clothes, I
dressed for dinner. I walked out of the wash shed to four new faces setting up
a large table on the deck. Each face smiled, acknowledging me as I walked back
into the building. More new faces – civilians – were in the kitchen prepping
the food. A cheerful elderly woman, introducing herself as Alison’s mother,
even greeted me with a hug.

“Alison told me we were going to have one more for dinner,”
said Ms. Ashley. “She didn’t tell me you were such a handsome devil.”

“Mom,” said Alison, walking into the conversation. “Give him
a break. He’s had a long day.”

“Oh, hush, child,” said Ms. Ashley, laughing.

“Most of these folks are our family,” said Alison. “With the
way the world was dropping hints, everyone knew to come here if things got
bad.”

“Am I the first straggler?” I asked.

Everyone in the room fell silent.

“I’m not what’s for dinner, am I?”

Ms. Ashley howled. “I knew I liked you.” The others followed
with laughter.

“No,” answered Alison, smiling. “We have a few rules here
within the group. One of them is, we can’t take care of everyone or we won’t be
able to take care of our families. I know that sounds harsh, but –”

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” I said. “I
understand.”

“If someone does come in needing help, we give it. They just
can’t stay. We simply don’t have those kinds of resources yet. We’re working on
that, too.”

“It’s a good rule, Alison.”

“The hardest part is turning away the young’uns,” said Ms.
Ashley, stirring a pot on a gas stove. “I’m an old woman. I tried to convince
them to let a little boy stay here in my place, but my Alison still needs me
for a bit longer. That was a hard day. I know harder ones are coming.”

“They are,” said Wes, walking into the kitchen. “But we’re
gonna be just fine, Ms. Ashley. We’re gonna give a lot of folks a better chance
to survive then they’d have without us. I hate turning them away, too. I really
do hate it.”

“I know you do, baby doll,” said Ms. Ashley. “You got
yourself a lot of responsibility here and you’re doin’ a fine job.”

“Thank you,” said Wes. “We’re all doing a fine job.”

“But you got a funny one right there,” said Ms. Ashley,
pointing at me with her wooden spoon. “You may want to keep him around.”

“Take a walk?” asked Wes, looking at me.

“Alison told me she asked you to stick around for a bit to
see if any problems develop with your lungs,” said Wes, opening the front door
for me. “I want you to know I’ve got absolutely no problem with that. You seem
like a man who can take care of himself. But day after tomorrow, I’ve gotta ask
you to leave us.”

“You’re doing the right thing here,” I said, sensing his
displeasure at having to ask. “This is the only way you guys are going to
survive and thrive. You’re giving these people the one thing everyone else is
going to be searching for.”

“What’s that?”

“Hope, my friend,” I said, patting him on the back.

“I appreciate your understanding,” said Wes.

“I appreciate your help.”

We turned the corner and walked to the back of the building.
Smiling faces and laughter were circling the table as they set down the bounty.
I could see why nobody wanted to leave this place. They were self-sufficient,
strong, and organized.

I pulled up a seat and I reflected on the past nine days as
they said grace. It was nice being somewhere with people I didn’t have to save
– or kill.

Coughing as soon as I laid down I found that sleep was
difficult but not impossible. It had been a while since I felt that safe
anywhere. I think my body recognized the opportunity and forced my lungs to
behave. Staying another day was a good idea. Looking out my window when I woke up
made it a great one. I had never seen a morning sky so red.

When I threw my legs over the side of the bed, my ribs
reminded me to take it easy. As soon as I sat up, the coughing started again.
It was less intense than yesterday, lasting only a minute or so before
everything settled. So far so good, beating the pneumonia.

  Walking out back to the wash shed, I found Alison sipping
coffee on the deck with another ranger. She grabbed her stethoscope and had me
take a few breaths. She smiled, letting me know things were going well inside
me.

“A little raspy, but it sounds like they’re clearing out on their
own,” said Alison. “I’m not ready to say you’re out of the woods, but you
probably will be by tomorrow morning.”

“I have to admit I’m glad I’m not traveling today,” I said,
looking over at the crimson sunrise.

“It’s why everyone is staying close today,” said Wes,
walking onto the deck, joining us. “It’s not like we can turn on the TV or a
computer to get the weather report, so we have to pay attention to what we can
see, hear, and feel on our own.”

“You seem to be more in tune with what’s going on than
most,” I said. Alison and the other ranger smiled. “I’m sorry, did I say
something wrong?”

“Not at all,” said Alison. “You’re absolutely right. It may
have something to do with him being half Creek and half Shawnee.”

“We all have the ability to see and read the signs,” said
Wes, cautious of his heritage outing. “Just because someone is one-fifth or
even full blooded doesn’t mean they’re born dialed in to the pulse of Mother
Earth and Father Sky. My parents taught me more about respect for nature and
less about how I could manipulate it for my needs. They wanted me to learn that
lesson on my own.”

“The signs these days aren’t difficult for anyone to read,”
I said. “We should’ve been paying more attention decades ago.”

“It was never a question of
if
this was going to
happen, but
when
,” said Wes. “And no one, not even a full-blooded Native
American, could’ve predicted how or when. What we’re experiencing now is just a
taste of what’s to come.”

“Wes believes we upset the balance of nature by changing the
environment to suit our wants instead of our needs,” said Alison. “He thinks
our excess is what’s driving these events.”

“No offense to anyone’s beliefs or opinions, but I don’t
care what’s driving them,” I said. “I’m more concerned with staying alive than
answering questions.”

“That’s the kind of attitude that got us into this mess,”
said Alison. “I’m a little surprised you feel that way.”

“Look up at the sky,” I said. “Is knowledge about why it’s
turning red going to save you from the hail, tornadoes, floods, or God knows
what else that is coming today? Is knowing why the power went out going to keep
you from getting raped or killed? Trying to figure out what happened needs to
come later. Surviving so you
can
figure it out is more important. We’re
not in control of anything anymore.”

“Knowing why will help us prevent it from happening again,”
said Alison, glaring at me. “Knowing why will save your life.”

“You’re not preventing shit today,” I said. “Just like I
couldn’t prevent Mary Anne, Katie, and Hope from being raped; Earl and Brian
from getting shot; and people being set on fire in the city. Just like I
couldn’t prevent the beach full of people from being stoned to death by hail, a
tornado draining a lake, or that creek trying to drown me. Just like I couldn’t
prevent Sam from…”

I lowered my head, catching myself going somewhere I didn’t
need to go. They had no idea what I was talking about. My anger wasn’t at them;
they were just the closest targets.

“I’m sorry, Alison,” I said, raising my head. “You didn’t deserve
that. You guys have been nothing but kind to me.”

“All that happened since the power died?” asked Alison.

“Everything but Sam,” I said. “She was killed during the
first blackout in Atlanta.”

“You two were close?”

“Yes. Very close.”

“There’s no need to apologize, son,” said Wes. “It’s better
to talk about it than suppress it.”

“She’s the reason why I’m still alive,” I said. “It made me
pay attention to the signs.”

“It made you want to get away from people, didn’t it?” asked
Wes. “To get as far away from anyone as possible.”

“Yes.”

“What you may not understand is that, out of seven billion
people on earth, close to two billion live without power every day. I guarantee
you many of them have no idea it’s gone. Their lives haven’t changed a bit
since it happened. They’re doing the same things the same way as they did ten
days ago.

“Electricity didn’t reach the cities in the US until the
1920s. In the closest town to us, the homes on the outskirts weren’t wired
until the ‘50s and ‘60s. When I was born on the reservation in Oklahoma, we
didn’t have power. Many of my people to this day choose to live without it. Of
course, their lives will be changed for reasons related to it, but it won’t be
a direct cause.”

“Well, our lives have changed because of it,” I said.

“Very true,” said Wes. “And how we adapt to that change will
determine our fate. I don’t look at this event as a death sentence for mankind.
I’m worried about things to come, but until they do, I’m going to accept the
change and do everything I can to help the people I care about live through it.”

“You’re a better man than me, Wes. I wish I had the same
positive outlook on what’s to come, but I don’t. Out there, the bad is beating
the good.”

“Is it?” asked Wes, setting up his point. “Have you made it
this far without help from anyone? Were you not in pain, needing a safe place
to rest yesterday? Were you not shown kindness and given shelter, food, and
medical attention from strangers?”

“Touché, Wes,” I conceded, smiling. “And not just from you
guys. On the first night after I left my apartment, a woman named Emma took me
in and showed me kindness as well. She also told me I’d meet you and a few
others along the way. I guess I just forgot about that. Like I said before,
I’ve had a few challenges on the road.”

“They’re not over,” said Wes. “You and I both know it’s
going to get worse. But I’m glad I reminded you of Emma’s words. They’re good
words and they’re important to remember.

“You told me yesterday that I give these people hope,” said
Wes, standing. “There’s nothing preventing you from doing the same. Not
teaching others the lessons you learned along the way would be an insult to the
kindness we’ve shown you. Pay it forward and you honor that kindness. That much
you
do
control.”

Wes smiled at everyone at the table before he walked inside.
I was wrong thinking he was a good leader. He was a great one.

“Trust me,” said Alison, smiling. “We all got the speech.”

“He cares about you,” I said. “All of you. That’s
impressive.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a selfish bastard,” I said, leaning back in my
chair. “I only care about keeping myself alive.”

“That’s not true,” said Alison. “I think you’re being a
little melodramatic.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Those people you named,” replied Alison. “You didn’t know
them before this happened. You helped them, didn’t you?”

“Earl, a kind old man who gave me shelter and food, I repaid
with a gunfight where he was shot and killed. The girls, all sweet and
beautiful, I almost walked away from when they were being raped and beaten. I
didn’t help any of them.”

“Okay,” said Alison. “Enough of this crap. What happed in
the gunfight? And just stick to the facts.”

“All right, the facts,” I said. “Three rednecks walked onto
the deck where we were having dinner. Before the leader of the cowards called
Earl a nigger for the second time, I started shooting. One of the rednecks
squeezed off a round that hit Earl in the chest. He was dead a few seconds
later.”

“Good,” said Alison. “We’re getting to the truth. They were
going to kill both of you, weren’t they?”

“No doubt in my mind.”

“Earl died in a fight for your lives. There was nothing you
could do. You know you’d be lying beside him if you hadn’t acted. You need to
drop the whole “I got him killed thing.” It’s not very attractive. Now, tell me
about the girls.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, sensing I just poked the bear. “I
walked up to a house where I heard screaming and gunshots. I turned and walked
away. A short distance later, I went back. It was easy killing all four of them
because they were too busy raping a woman and two young girls.

“I walked away again when they wanted me to stay. Again, I
turned around and went back. I stayed with them for a few days before her dead
husband’s brother came for them. Since we’re being open and honest, I didn’t
really want to leave at that point, but here I am, getting scolded like a
child.”

“Get over yourself,” said Alison. “Self-pity is even less
attractive. Wes and I saw something in you the second we found you by the
bridge. It’s a shame you don’t as well.”

“See what?” I asked, interested in the answer.

“No fear. And I’m not saying you’re not scared. You don’t
back down from the ones looking to take advantage of you or anyone else. If you
don’t think Wes has had to bury a few bodies in the woods, you don’t know him
at all. It tears him up every time he has to do it, but he knows if he doesn’t
they’ll take everything we have, including our lives.”

“I’m no Wes,” I said. “And I’m not saying that for self-pity
to be melodramatic. That guy has his shit together. Mine is all over the
place.”

“That’s obvious,” said Alison, not giving me an inch. “Wes
goes to sleep every night and wakes up every morning scared about what’s coming
our way. The difference between him and most others is, he’s fearless when it
shows up. That’s what we see in you.”

We all ducked when we heard the deafening crack as if
somebody had just swung a bat into a brick wall. As we were heavy into our
conversation, none of us had noticed the rolling black cloud on the horizon.
Alison turned to see it coming up behind her.

“What was that?” asked Alison, turning back to me.

“It sounded like lightning hitting a tree,” I said.

As soon as I said it, I realized that through all the crazy
storm events of the past ten days there had been no lightning. There was
hellacious thunder, but no lightning. It was as if the earth couldn’t produce
its own electricity as well. The auroras we saw nightly were taking place miles
above the earth on the edge of space. As we sat there wondering what it was,
Mother Nature confirmed it for us.

A giant bolt with a hundred fingers flashed in the growing
cloud. We stood, waiting for the next impressive display. We ran when it came.

The first bolt was another of her undeniable warnings that
something terrible was brewing over us. The supercharged cloud blocked out the
sun as it prepared for the next volley. As if paparazzi had arrived, the
landscape exploded with blinding light.