Working With Cedar: The Early Years Read online

  “It’ll hurt much worse. I thought three wire twists would do the trick, but with it out, you definitely need four. As I said before, because of the location of the wound, the wire will be deeper than a normal stitch.

  “Nash, I need to hurry. I saw a car pass the entrance to the property while I pulled the shrapnel. It didn’t slow or stop, but sooner or later one will.”

  The thought of another confrontation with scavengers was enough to prompt him to say, “I’ll deal with the pain.”

  His method of dealing with pain was to cry out and squirm each time Betty punctured his flesh with the wire.

  Twisting the final suture closed, Betty said, “Finished, done, and somehow you managed not to fall off the chair. I’m proud of you. Now reach back and keep this compress in place while I find something to hold a pressure bandage to your butt.”

  Nash stretched his arm to press the wet pad of tissue paper against his buttock. “I think I saw a tube of glue over where they emptied Jill’s handbag.”

  “You mean, super glue. Yeah, that will do. I’m going to need a multi-tool of my own.”

  Nash quipped, “That and a Dremel to cut bone and you’d have a complete surgical kit.”

  Betty took the statement as serious. “You’re right. Gene has a Dremel kit; uses it working on his model cars. Keep the pressure on while I fetch the glue.”

  Mentioning the Dremel brought back the fact that Jill’s body was only feet from where he lay. He pushed away the picture of her face, her blank eye staring at the ceiling, concentrated instead on the throbbing wound under his fingertips and on Betty’s footsteps returning to her chair.

  “Nash, we’re almost finished, I’m going to position your fingers so they’re in line with the laceration. Keep your hand elevated so I can clean and dry a circle around the compress. Press hard, but not too hard.”

  She moved his fingers into position. While she worked, she began talking. What she spoke of totally distracted him from what she was doing.

  “They left your jeep behind. You must have the keys in your pocket.”

  “I do.”

  “Good. We have transportation. Nash, we’re in a bad predicament. We have no supplies at all. Merle and his bunch took everything you and Jill had. Do you have any idea what we should do when we leave here?”

  Feeling a sense of déjà vu at once again forced into an inadvertent partnership, Nash responded. “No, Betty, I don’t. I’ve been too busy running and being operated on to have time to think about anything. I don’t even know how badly this whole Ebola thing is going.”

  Betty moved his fingers to a slightly different position. “Blood’s seeping from the corner. Put more pressure with your pinky. As far as how bad things are going, write the word ‘horrible’ and then expand it to cover the globe. This new Ebola virus is a monster. It’s vectoring faster than any flu virus I’ve ever heard of. The virus invades and incubates in the body extremely quick. At first you wouldn’t know you had it, but in three or four days you’d become highly contagious.

  “Five days after first contact, the symptoms begin presenting. Perhaps because this strain vectors with airborne transmission and goes directly into the victim’s mucus membrane, the disease progresses much faster than before. Lethargy, elevated temperature. Then vomiting, cramps, Rashes and persistent lesions erupt all over the body.

  “Nash, the short answer is once symptoms appear; the victim suffers horrifically and is dead within five days.

  Nash shook his head in disbelief, “And no one recovers?”

  Betty stood from her chair and offered Nash a hand. “All fixed, at least I hope so, hope infection doesn’t set in. This isn’t the cleanest environment.”

  Nash declined the offered hand, preferring to gain his feet on his own to maintain what little sense of modesty he still possessed.

  Betty shrugged and turned away to give him privacy to pull up his skivvies and pants. “Be careful when you sit, and try not to bump against anything. To answer your question, very few recover. That summation is from the previous iteration of the virus. Maybe no one can survive this new strain of Ebola.

  Nash buckled his belt while facing the windows. A grey SUV slowed as it passed the entrance to the mansion. It almost stopped, but for some reason the driver accelerated and continued past. He opened his mouth to alert Betty but she preempted him.

  “Damn, Nash, another one. That one almost decided to pull into the driveway. Let’s get what we need from here and leave.”

  Nash asked, “Exactly where are we going?”

  Betty shrugged and said, “Let’s get in your jeep and drive somewhere out of sight. In the woods will suit me. Your four-wheel-drive should make that easy. We need a safe place to make plans.”

  Mainly because they didn’t want to spend any more time there, they gathered very little, a few of the smaller pots and saucepans, foil, spices and various eating and cutlery items. Betty bagged a small amount of thawing meats and vegetables from the walk in freezer.

  They had a short tiff over whether to bury Jill, Betty adamantly against it, and Nash halfheartedly arguing for it, but deep down was glad to succumb to Betty’s opinion that Jill’s spirit would be pissed if he got himself killed after what she did.

  Within thirty minutes of Nash’s “operation”, they were in the jeep at the entrance to the estate.

  Nash stated the obvious. “Well, here we are; Time for the momentous question… left or right?”

  Betty didn’t hesitate. “Turn right.”

  Nash squirmed to find a comfortable position for his right butt cheek and glanced toward her. “You said that with some sort of… I don’t know… determination?”

  “Please humor me, unless of course you have a reason to go left.”

  Nash turned the steering wheel to the right and entered the roadway. “No Betty, I am at the point of no reason. Either way suits me. I simply want a place to hide rest and think. This has to go down as the worst day of my life.”

  Betty met his glance and said. “You need to pray it is.”

  They drove in silence for ten minutes. Passing by a heavily forested section of road, Betty pointed to it and said, “Remember how to find this stretch of road again.”

  “Why?”

  “I saw an overgrown trail, probably an old logging road. It could lead to a safe place to camp for a while.”

  Nash put his foot on the brake petal and slowed to look for a place to turn around

  “No, keep going,” Betty said, “Think it through. We need supplies and the longer we wait to get them the harder it will be to find them.”

  “Betty, the last thing I want to do is roam around looking for supplies. I’ve been shot at, bombed and seen dead bodies, all for the first time in my life. I don’t want to find any more trouble today.”

  “Nash, we only have food for today. Besides, I want to show you something.”

  “Okay, but if we continue in this direction we’ll be at the freeway in another ten minutes.”

  “That’s where we’re going. I want you to see something.”

  “Christ, Betty! I was almost carjacked at the truck stop yesterday—, Twice; both times within a minute of each other.”

  “That’s what I want you to see. I saw it yesterday. It was a pure, chaotic mess. We didn’t stop. Late this morning we drove by it again on our way to your estate. It’s a different place now.”

  “Different? How so?”

  “Keep driving. You’ll see.”

  Against his own will, telling himself, “Why the hell not,” aloud, he said, “I don’t like surprises,” but he picked up speed and continued west toward the interstate.

  The bridge crossing over Interstate-85 came up sooner than he expected. Crossing over the freeway, the normally busy roadway was almost devoid of traffic. He saw four cars and a pickup truck in the northbound lanes, but only a single car going south toward Atlanta.

  Topping the crown of the bridge and then approaching the truck stop, Betty’s descriptive, ‘Different, was self-evident.

  Vehicles of all types were at every pump with more vehicles waiting in line. Missing were all the people who should be standing beside their vehicles at the pumps.

  Drawing nearer to the entrance, Nash saw why. Bodies littered the pavement. Inside some vehicles, he could see drivers and passengers slumped as though asleep.

  Again, Nash slowed the jeep, but Betty said, “Don’t drive in. Just stop, but leave the engine running.”

  The place on the road where he stopped afforded a view of the store entrance. He leaned toward Betty’s side of the jeep to peer past her.

  Several bodies, men women and children were lying on the pavement close to the shattered doors. The large glass windows to the left of the doors were shattered as well.

  Betty said, “On our way to meet up with Merle and the rest, Gene and I took this exit yesterday thinking to get gasoline. This place was a war zone. They’re not here now, but a gang of men dressed in camouflage uniforms, were doing most of the shooting. The trucks they used for cover were painted camouflage as well, but they weren’t part of a military unit, just preppers more organized than the sorry group I was with.

  “People hiding behind their vehicles were shooting back at them. I don’t know what sparked the violence, but it happened just after the grid went down. We didn’t stick around. Gene did a U-turn and raced away.”

  Nash couldn’t believe what his eyes were showing. “There are dead children. Christ, some of them may still be alive. We need to check on them. Check the cars to see if anyone needs help.”

  “Waste of time, Nash. We stopped here today on our way to your place. It wasn’t Merle’s intention to help anyone; he wanted to see if there was any booty to claim. The store shelves are empty and
there’s no electricity for the fuel pumps. Everyone you see on the ground and in vehicles, they’re all dead. Between yesterday and today scavengers beat Merle to anything worth having.

  At the farthest fueling island, Nash saw movement. A man holding a gas can came from behind an old Chevy van and began staggering toward them, prompting him to say, “Not everyone’s dead.”

  Stunned by the man’s sudden appearance, they sat watching him lurch their way until Betty said, “Oh hell no! Look at him. He has a rash all over his face and arms. He infected with Ebola. Get us out of here!”

  Spurred by Betty’s fearful outburst, Nash engaged first gear. Peeling rubber, he spun the jeep a one-eighty and raced back over the freeway bridge.

  A mile farther along the highway, Betty touched his arm and said, “You can slow down. I’m pretty sure he won’t catch up with us.”

  Nash eased off the pedal. In a despairing tone, he said, “We don’t have a tent— no blankets. Jesus, we don’t even have toilet paper. What’s the use in going back to that trail you saw?”

  “You’re wrong Nash. I have toilet paper in my handbag. We’ll do something about our supply situation, but we can’t run willy-nilly all over the countryside. Besides the fact we might encounter an infected, there are a lot of desperate people, not to mention crazy nut-jobs out here.”

  Again, Nash glanced at Betty. “You mean crazy nut-jobs like the bunch you were with. Not everyone we will meet will be like them. Most people are decent.”

  “I agree, but how will we tell the difference until it’s too late. Our best bet is to avoid people while we round up supplies and then find a place permanent place to hide.”

  Nash found no reason to disagree with her summation of their predicament and made no reply.

  A minute later, Betty said, “Slow down, the turn-off’s just ahead.”

  Nash stopped in the road by the trail leading into a wooded area consisting mostly of pines. There was a short flat patch of gravel bridging a drainage culvert. Beyond where the gravel ended, the old track was barely discernable due to the thick overgrowth of saplings and brambles.

  Betty leaned in her seat to see past Nash. “I don’t know; that looks rougher than I thought.

  Nash, seeing the path as a challenge to his off-roading skills, shifted to four-wheel drive and said, “We’ll give it a shot.”

  The old dirt road, washed with ruts, defined only by the trees lining each side had a high center crown, provided for a rough, bumpy ride. He took it slow, riding off center to minimize the drag on the undercarriage. Crushing through thick undergrowth, the first few hundred yards the path ran straight, over mostly flat terrain. That ended when they came to a gradual down slope. Near the end of the slope, the forest opened up to a clearing. Nash stopped the jeep and said, “There’s a creek at the bottom. Let’s check it out.”

  Betty followed Nash’s lead, taking advantage of him breaking trail through the low-growing briars and blackberry canes.

  Stopping at the edge of a wide, shallow creek, Nash took a moment to study the bed and depth of the flow.

  “The bed’s gravel and I doubt the water will come halfway up the wheels.”

  Betty shook her head. “No, the hill on the other side is steep. Right here is good enough.”

  Nash gazed past her to the jeep, their only real possession. “Good enough for what? Betty, I don’t even know why we’re back in here. There is no shelter. We have very little food. If you’re thinking we can set up housekeeping by sleeping in the jeep, we’re doomed.”

  “Nash, we’re not here to stay. This is simply a place where we can rest and think without worrying about anyone chancing on us. Let’s go back to the jeep. I need to talk to you.”

  Nash followed her to the jeep and resumed his seat behind the wheel.

  Betty opened the door on her side, reached in for her shoulder bag. “Nature calling, I’ll be back in a jiff.”

  Waiting for her to return, Nash tried to bring some order to his mental state.

  Only one day since Nora’s urgent visit to his apartment and already he’d been a victim of violence, witnessed murder both first hand and secondhand. A vicious gang stole his supplies, killed his friend, and he’d had an operation to remove a bomb fragment from his butt.

  Now, nonsensically, he was in the middle of a forest with a complete stranger. He knew he needed to gain a handle on the situation, find some way to stop the ongoing confusion of reacting to life as it unfolded. He wanted a defined course of action.

  No answer came to him. Fear was the main constraint thwarting every course of action his mind put forth. The death and mayhem he’d seen at the truck stop, the Ebola victim staggering toward him, almost every incident that happened since he drove from his apartment yesterday represented more violence than he’d witnessed in his entire life.

  When Betty returned to the jeep, Nash was very close to breaking down. Betty, sliding into her seat noticed something that caused her to abruptly slide back out and step several feet away.

  “Are you alright?” she asked. “You’re very pale. Are you running a temperature?”

  Nash realized she was concerned that he was showing Ebola symptoms. “I’m not sick, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m just exhausted and scared shitless.”

  Betty stepped closer and said, “Let me see your eyes. Look straight at me.”

  Nash opened his eyes wide and looked at her.

  “Good, no ruptured vessels. Thank you. Please, will you stick out your tongue?”

  Nash was exasperated beyond caring. “Sure, why not?”

  Betty stared at his tongue for a long moment and then said, “Why are you sticking your tongue out at me, buster?”

  Her question confused him. “Crap, lady; because you asked me too.”

  “That was a joke, Nash. Seriously, though, the condition of a person’s tongue reveals a lot about their health. Yours is fine.”

  Regaining her seat beside him, she asked, “How old are you?”

  Nash knew where she was going and decided to preempt an interrogation. “I had this conversation with Jill. I’m twenty-three. I had a sheltered, easy life. I’m not the ‘hero’ type— and Betty, I am totally freaked, at my wits-end and I have no idea what to do about it. I’m scared shitless.”

  Betty said, “Yeah, that is exactly the assessment I would have guessed if asked, but you left out a few important characteristics. You’re easy to get along with, you care about other people, and just in general, you seem to be a decent person.”

  “Now Nash, I want to ask you, how can we gather supplies if you take into account the stores have all been looted by now, and even worse, just attempting to gather supplies exposes us to the possibility of contact with someone infected with Ebola?”

  Betty didn’t wait for an answer. “That question was rhetorical, but I want you to think about this. From what I saw at the mansion, you and Jill had plenty of supplies. Where are they?

  This time she did wait for Nash to reply.

  “Is that another rhetorical question? You know where they are.”

  “That’s right; we know where there are a lot of supplies. They are in the possession of a gang of murderers – Murderers who killed your friend. Blew her guts out with a bomb and finished her off by shooting her. She was still alive when Ellen, Merle’s wife put the last bullet in her, the one through her heart from less than a foot away; called her a fucking bitch before he pulled the trigger. How do you like that?”

  Betty’s vivid description of Jill’s last moments brought unbidden tears to Nash’s eyes. “Stop it. Why are you telling me this?”

  “We don’t have time to be afraid. I’m trying to make you as mad as I am. I’m only five years older than you are, but I feel much older. Merle and his gang have everything we need to survive for several months if we manage correctly. Maybe enough so we can find a hideaway and ride out the time it takes the plague to end. I want those supplies and I’m ready to kill every member of the gang, man and woman, to get them.”

  Nash wiped his eyes with his shirtsleeve. “Just us against all of them, tell me you’re kidding.”

  “No, I’m deadly serious. Tonight, you and I are going to take from them what they took from you, and what they took from Jill; Your supplies and their lives.”