Chapter 19: Jocelyn
It’s been three days since Laura found the cure. Everyone is feeling much better. Her cure is a miracle.
I walk down the hallway and into the final patient room. It’s on the third floor above the main entrance to the hospital. The window gives a good view of all the streets below. It’s a great lookout. Nichols and Paige pass by on their way to the exit.
Nichols is really pulling his weight. Even while recovering, he took it upon himself to scout last night and found a stockpile of canned food in a neighboring apartment building. It had expired, but he seemed to know firsthand that if we cook it then we should be fine. The two of them are going out to collect more from the stockpile. I want to go; but Paige asked to go in my place. She hasn't handled David's passing well. They've known each other a long time. Carter provides the comfort he can, but she wants some fresh air, and he's busy helping Laura stockpile the vaccine. Nichols gives me a quick wink as they head down the steps.
There’s something special about him.
Something inherently good. Something I haven't seen since the plague in many people – even the best of us. Maybe it’s his steadfast devotion, his poise. There aren’t too many like him in this broken country.
I set my rifle along the windowsill and lean against the cold glass. We haven’t heard a noise on the outside. I figured those New Americans would be looking for us, but I guess they gave up or have all died from the plague. Judging by how fast our
symptoms consumed us, they can't be doing too well.
Laura and Carter have been creating a stockpile of the vaccine. After talking it over, we decided to split up soon and distribute the vaccine as best we could. One group will travel locally and even head in the direction of the group who took my book. It was a heated discussion, but from what we can tell, they aren’t bad. They were just surviving like us. They don't deserve to suffer.
There's even children.
The other group will head to the border – not that we know what they will find there. Perhaps it is the fear of the plague that has kept foreign aid out of the country, but with the cure at hand, maybe this will allow them to help us take this country back from the New Americans. That is if Canada is even there anymore. They've been completely absent since this hell started over six years ago.
I stare into the sky. A sole bird flies across the window. It must have gotten lost; it’s a bit late to be flying south.
If only things were that simple. It finds a ledge next to a few dripping icicles. It bounces back and
forth as it searches the cement ledge for food.
There was this one winter, two maybe three years ago – I’m not sure – I sat inside one of the workhouses, just letting time pass by. Nearly a hundred of us
were shoved into a space no bigger than that cabin in the woods. I lied down on one of the dozens of closely-packed bunks, staring out the window into the snow. A few birds hobbled around for a moment or so before flying off into the sky. My eyes followed them.
I still dreamed then of a time that I wouldn't have to be so tough. When I could go to college and restart everything. I don't dream about that anymore.
With a heavy exhale, I pull the rifle onto my lap and take another look at it. I still have trouble believing sometimes that this is what the world has become. Since we went to the cabin, I've managed to do so much with a rifle. In high school, I never would have ever imagined even touching something like this. Now, I shoot deer, rabbits, and... people.
I exhale again loudly and return to looking out the window. If things one day ever return to normal, I don't even know where I'll start. How any of us can simply put everything that has happened in the past? How can we live in such a different world? In the cabin, we joked about what we would do when we were free. I wanted to max a credit card. These days, I've never have cared less about what I wear
My hands tighten on the rifle across my lap. My eyelids feel heavy, and while thinking about a future...
My eyelids shoot open, and my
heart beats fast. I'm not sure how long I was out. I didn't dream.
A low rumble fills the room. It slowly grows, causing me to rise to my feet. My eyes search the streets.
An earthquake? Really? The mild rumble continues and grows louder. I return the rifle to my shoulder and search outside the window for any movement through the scope. A dull roar joins in on the rumble. About a half a mile down the road, a black mass comes around the corner. My eyes focus.
No.
It’s a Humvee. Several other Humvees round the corner behind it. Men walk alongside the vehicles and a few sit on top behind machine guns. Nearly a dozen vehicles and countless soldiers come straight down the road.
God, no.
I turn from the window and run as fast as my feet will carry me. I burst into the waiting room. They all turn to me. At first, I choke on the words but manage to get them out.
“The New Americans.
They’re here.”
“How many?”
Ryan asks.
“All of them.” I can’t think of another way to describe what I just saw.
Ryan's head snaps to Kevin and Darrel.
“You two do a secondary check of all the entrances, and reinforce the blockades with whatever you can find. Make sure they haven't already found their way inside.” Both of them take off without even a nod.
“Jo, Caitlyn, I want you in that lookout room. Keep me informed of any of their movements. If necessary, and only if necessary, engage them if we need time. Make each shot count.” I nod and turn to Caitlyn. She grabs the rifle from a table and heads down the hall without me.
Ryan turns to Carter.
“I want you to help Laura prepare the vaccine for transport.”
Carter starts and then he stops in his tracks.
“What’s wrong?” I say, while pocketing a few more rounds from the table. He turns slowly to the two of us.
“Paige left with Nichols an hour ago to check the nearby buildings for supplies. They’re on the outside.”
Oh, no.
Chapter 20: Paige
“You seem to always be the one exploring,” I say to Nichols. He hoists himself into the small opening into the hotel elevator. It didn't go all the way to the ground level and the open door hung about five feet off the ground. He lifts his body inside.
“Are you sure this is safe?” I ask. This can't be safe. “The stairs can't be far.”
“Take a chance.” He turns and reaches his hand down towards me. “Here, come on.”
I hesitantly reach for his hand. A few old horror movies with elevators flash through my mind. Before I can change my mind, he reaches the few extra inches and grips my wrist, lifting me until I can pull my body into the small opening. I hobble up into the elevator and stand in the confined space. It feels sturdier than I imagined.
“It's because I like exploring,” he says, finally answering my question. His finger goes to a hatch in the roof. “I'm gonna boost you to that. Open it and climb through.”
He interlocks his fingers and squats. Again, without thinking, I comply. He boosts me up to the ceiling, and with little effort, the hatch opens. I pull my body into the square opening with some support from Nichols’s shoulders.
Standing on my feet, I glance around the dark shaft.
It's nearly pitch black. A thick wire ascends out of sight from the center of the car, and I grip it with my left hand. It, too, feels sturdy.
“Now, give me a hand,” Nichols says with his hand stretched towards the opening.
“You think I can pull you up here?”
“I can't jump it. Just help me grab the ledge.”
I reach into the hole with both my hands. Nichols jumps and grabs onto my wrist. He nearly pulls me through the hole as I support his weight. I push with my legs and manage to raise him a few inches. He reaches up and grabs the sides to the hatch. Without his weight, I lose my balance and my back collides with the wall.
“Be careful,” he says, pulling himself into the shaft. I back away from the wall, rubbing my back slowly. “Bet you didn't know you were so strong?”
“Yea, yea. Now what?”
He walks toward the wall and stretches his arms high. A loud metal sound returns when he knocks on the surface above him. In the dark, Nichols hauls himself up to a tiny ledge. He is
totally lost in the darkness. The only light we have comes from the small square hatch beneath us.
“Nichols?” I question, after not seeing him for a few moments.
“Yea, hold on.”
He grunts, and a line of light fills the shaft as Nichols pulls open the second floor elevator doors. He continues to grunt and the gap widens, filling the dark shaft with light. After the opening is broad enough, he stops and turns.
“Now, we are at the second floor.” He reaches his hand down and helps pull me up to the second level.
“Whew. That was definitely more exciting than the stairs,” I say.
“Yea,” he turns with a smile and strides down the hotel hallway. I follow him. Almost immediately, I see the stairway door. It is right next to the elevator.
“Nichols?” I say. He turns his head back to me while continuing to walk down the hallway.
“Honestly, why not the stairs?”
“Just because,” he answers. “It's for your own good.”
“No. Nichols tell me. I hear enough of that from Carter.”
“Fine,” he says giving in to my demand. He walks the few paces back to me and sets his outstretched hand on the door. He pushes it open slightly.
And I glance inside.
I nearly vomit when I see what resides within. He quickly shuts the door.
“I'm sorry,” he quickly says, looking at me with regret.
“No, it's my own fault. I should have trusted you. How did you know?”
“When I went out the other night, I briefly stopped here. Stairwells became a common resting ground for a lot of bodies – especially within cities. Out of sight out of mind, I guess. They didn't plan for when the elevators went down.”
We continue walking down the hallway, checking each door to see if it is unlocked. Light from a window at the end of the hall illuminates the green carpeting and the white walls. We didn't want to break any down until we have to - it's not worth the energy. Our route will take us to the room where Nichols found the stockpile, yesterday. We have several hours before dark, so the more we can find the better. If we can't get through the border, we are going to need all the food we can get. After a few more minutes, I decide to lighten the mood. Between all this death and destruction, there are a few glimmers of hope.
“So any particular reason you like running around looking like the Lone Ranger?” I ask. He laughs.
“Jocelyn said the same thing.”
“You like her don't you?” I quickly say back.
“Jocelyn?”
“Yup.”
“Like?” he says, turning a slight red color.
“What is this, junior high? I think there are more important things to worry about...”
I laugh. That tells me all I need to know.
Once upon a time, that was the kind of stuff I was worried about. Now, as I say those words, it all seems fruitless. Still, it's a nice little escape from all these horrors.
Shaking his head with a mild smile, he walks down the hall, trying each door on the right. I try the ones on the left.
My hand pulls a handle down and the door pushes inward.
“Nichols, I've got one.”
“Great,” he says while walking beside me. We enter the room together. Aside from dust, the room looks untouched. The bed is perfectly made, and even a few towels are neatly folded on top of the covers, blanketed in a thick layer of dust.
In the small kitchenette are two bottles of water. I unzip my pack and throw them in.
“You know some places charged you like six dollars if you drink one of those waters?” he asks.
What a delightfully useless piece of knowledge.
“Yea, I've heard that.” I entertain him and replace the pack to my back. Why does small-talk just seem like a waste of breath after the plague? Hopefully, when we get out of this mess, it won't be that way anymore.
“Look, there's a balcony,” he says, walking to the opposite side of the room. He pushes open the curtains and light pours into the dusty space. He unlocks the latch and opens it up. A draft of cold winds runs through, fluttering the curtains and the bottom of his coat. I join him outside.
We can see the whole street. If we lean out, we can even see the entrance to the hospital. I search the hospital and see a figure through the glass.
“Look,” I say, “
it's Jo.” Nichols hurries up beside me and looks up to them. I turn to him to see a stupid grin quickly leaving his face. He turns forward and leans on the railing with his arms.
“Obviously you like people, Nichols. Why did you decide to be alone during this whole ordeal?”
He looks at me and then walks to a patio chair on the balcony. Nichols sits down after brushing some shards of glass off the seat with his sleeve. His hand comes up slowly, removes his hat, and places it on the table. The other hand pushes his blonde hair back on his head.
“Well, I suppose it's pretty complicated. Things were ugly down there in the beginning. I tried trusting a few people, and they turned on me
mighty quickly. It was the only way to be sure.”
“I'm glad you found us,” I say, clutching the railing.
We share a smile and I lean against the balcony and feel the cold air. I couldn't imagine doing this alone for so many years. Luckily, I had Ryan and David before Carter. David. My smile melts to a brief frown. I turn towards Nichols
“We better get back-”
Shattered glass on the table beside his hat shakes slightly - something large is moving. Peering over the railing, I look down the street for any sign of the cause. A low rumble continues to echo off the tall buildings. What in the world...?
An army of Jeeps and Humvees drive down the road. They have the same markings as the trucks that I watched from a second story window so many years ago when the New Americans took everything away from us the first time. My heart drops. Nichols comes up beside me, returning the hat to his head.
“This complicates things,” he begins. I nod.
Please, don't let this happen again.