Sometimes We Ran (Book 3): Rescue (8 page)

“Yes!” Michael exclaimed, getting a little closer. “We don't know who the hell he is, and you and Claire brought him right inside. Not to mention, you attracted the Red-Eyes right to the gate with this shit.” Denise sensed I was getting a little crowded, so she pulled Michael back a little.

“He helped us. He got us through the zombies on the road,” Claire said. “We couldn't leave him to die.”

“Was it your idea to bring him inside, Claire? Maybe we should just let you stay with the kids. That seems to be all you can handle.” Michael was getting all red and bloated in the face.

Claire jumped off the bed to do battle. Her arm had been magically healed by the anger flowing through her tiny frame. Michael had awakened a monster. I stepped back, as I knew Claire's fury could be legendary.

She got right in Michael's personal space, and he stepped back in surprise. “I've been on the road, and I can take care of myself - and John too if necessary,” Claire said in a slightly raised voice.

“Yeah, well, maybe you can't handle it anymore.” Michael's voice was now raised as well.

Claire fired back. “I don't see you picking up a gun and volunteering to go outside. When was the last time you did anything outside the gates?”

“I do plenty around here to keep us safe.” Michael gave Claire a light shove to get her out of his way.

Claire pushed Michael right back. “Enlighten me. What do you do around here to help us?” Claire and Michael looked like they were going to rumble right there in the infirmary. I grabbed Claire by the waist before she started to rain blows on him.

Denise had also seen enough. She stepped between Claire and Michael and shoved them apart. “That's it! We're going to cut this out right now. It does us no good to yell at each other. Michael go somewhere else. Claire, if your arm feels okay, go home to your family.” Michael gave a last dirty look to Claire and, then stalked off. Claire wrestled out of my grip and without a word, left the infirmary. She grabbed her bat on the way out.

Denise turned to me. “I want to see you in my office.” She sounded a bit like a vice-principal I used to know. I might be in trouble. Denise walked out of the infirmary to cool off before our meeting.

Doctor Connelly handed me my weapons. “That Michael is some piece of work,” she said.

I holstered my gun and placed my knife on my belt. “It's Claire's fault, too. She has a bit of a temper. When she gets home, Ryan's going to get an earful.” I nodded to the isolation ward. “What do you make of our new friend?”

Doctor Connelly looked at the quarantine room and its only occupant. “He has a few cuts and bruises, mostly superficial. The bump on his head was a little worse, but I think he'll wake up in a few hours. Maybe a day or two and you can talk to him. He's a little undernourished, but who isn't these days? Any idea who he might be?”

“Not a clue. No identification. Just some keys, a shotgun, and a small dirt bike. Don't know why he helped us. Looks like I might be in trouble for bringing him back,” I said.

The Doctor escorted me to the door. “I want to go on the record. I think you did the right thing.”

“Thanks. I hope Denise feels the same way.”

I crossed the lobby of the Admin building to Denise's office. As I passed Jaci at the desk, she gave me a hopeful smile. She must already know about our unconscious friend in the infirmary and that I brought him here. News traveled fast in Cannon Fields.

I knocked gently on the door frame. She was sitting quietly at her desk rubbing her eyes with her hands. It had already been a long day. She looked up, then gestured to one of the shabby chairs in front of her desk. “Come in,” she said, no anger in her voice. She put her glasses back on.

“Door open or closed?” I asked.

“Open. Warmer that way.” That was good news. Maybe she wouldn't yell so much with the door open. I took a seat in one of the chairs. No one spoke at first.

I broke the silence by speaking first. “Denise...I know Michael is in charge, but if he talks to any residents like that again, it's going to be a problem.”

Denise shifted in her chair. “So noted. I will speak to him about the incident in the infirmary. But...” She trailed off.

“What?” I asked.

Denise didn't like heavy confrontation, but sometimes it was part of her job. “Michael is not entirely in the wrong. You did bring in a stranger. God knows where he's from. We don't even know who he is yet.”

“I know. It was my call. I was going to drive away. Leave him there to freeze to death or become zombie food. Just couldn't do it,” I said.

“What stopped you?” Denise asked.

“Claire. She's always been that little voice in my head helping me on the road. I stopped because it felt so...so wrong to leave him there. It was a bad feeling, like a punch to the stomach.” I leaned back in my chair, feeling defeated.

“Okay,” Denise said, taking off her glasses again. “Just remember the River Mills rescue. We can't go through that again. I don't think we could survive that, John.”

“I remember River Mills. Still trying to put it behind me, I guess. You can't save everybody, but humans are becoming pretty scarce outside the gates. I thought maybe we could save at least one,” I said, standing up to leave, as I wanted to check on Karen.

Denise stood up, and we walked into the hallway. We paused for a minute in the lobby of the Admin building. “Maybe you're right. You're a good friend, and I trust you. You've always come through for me and the residents of Cannon Fields, so I'm going to trust you now with our friend in the infirmary as well. I'm making him your responsibility.” Denise opened the glass door, and the winter wind swirled into the lobby.

“A guard will be assigned to him. When he wakes up, I'll find out who he is and where he belongs,” I said.

The first smile I had seen in a couple of days lit up Denise's face. “Sounds good. Go home and take care of Karen.” She moved aside to let me leave.

I stepped onto the wooden porch and pulled on my gloves. The temperature was dropping, and it was going to be a cold night. I walked down the steps, and began the walk home to my sick wife.

“One more thing,” Denise called from the porch.

I turned. Denise was in the doorway hugging herself against the biting cold. “Despite what Michael says, you and Claire did the right thing.”

T
he stranger in the infirmary refused to wake up, so I was finally able to give my wife the back rub I promised. When Karen is sick, the muscles in her back go on strike. She stiffens up and goes into a bad mood. It was time for my magic fingers to go to work. Karen sat in the beat-up recliner in our living room. I gently rubbed her shoulders and back with technique learned through trial and error and back rubs in the past. It was working, as Karen was actually smiling and laughing at my lame jokes. Her laugh was music to my ears.

I finished the massage session and walked into the kitchen to get her tea. It was a blend invented by Doctor Connelly that consisted of medicinal herbs and berries taken from her personal garden. It was supposed to clear the sinuses and stop sore throat and cough. The Doctor was studying ways to cure disease with natural plants and fruits as an alternative to conventional medicine, preparing for the days when the medicine was going to run out.

As I prepped the tea, Karen shuffled into the kitchen rubbing her neck. “Feeling better?” I asked.

“Actually, I feel pretty good,” she answered. She moved her head around, stretching her neck. ” The last few days had seen some improvement in her condition. At least, she wasn't coughing as much. I put a steaming cup of the doctor's miracle tea on the table. “I think you missed your calling. You should rub backs for a living.”

“Then I would miss out on all the action packed adventure around here,” I said, pushing the cup of tea towards her. “Drink up. Doctor Connelly's personal blend.” I sat down, and took a good look at Karen. The sparkle was finally coming back into her beautiful green eyes. A feeling of relief washed over me like a refreshing breeze. The sickness was not going to take her.

Karen took a sip of the hot liquid and made a face. “Tastes like dirt,” she said. She took another large sip and put the cup down as far away as she could on the table. “Yeah. Definitely dirt like. Got anything to get the soil taste out of my mouth? ”

Karen was hungry. The Doctor would say that was a very good sign. I gave her a slice of homemade cornbread with strawberry jelly, and pushed the cup of tea back into her hand. Dirt taste or not, Karen would have to drink it all for it to have any effect. Doctor's orders.

We sat at our little kitchen table near the warmth of the stove, Karen with her tea and me with my coffee, eating cornbread and talking. I sat and listened to her silky voice as she went from one piece of gossip to another. Karen was finally getting back to normal, and for that I was thankful. She was not going to wind up in the infirmary with the other victims fighting for her life.

I hoped the other sick residents would be as lucky. Burning bodies is no fun.

The conversation turned to the stranger in the infirmary. “So,” Karen said, finishing off the dirt-like tea. “Who exactly is this guy you and Claire brought in?” Karen asked.

I grabbed another piece of cornbread. It was Claire's recipe, and it was pretty good with Karen's strawberry preserves on top. “Don't know. It's been three days, and he still won't wake up. Doctor Connelly told me he should be up and around by now. She's worried about how we're going to feed him while he's unconscious.”

“Do you think he's dangerous, John?”

“He did help us out on the road. Scared all the zombies away with a noisy motorcycle,” I answered.

Karen got up to return to her resting spot in the recliner. “Well whoever he is, it's the talk of the town. When you were on fence patrol yesterday, Claire was over here checking on me. She couldn't stop talking about it.”

I fiddled with my empty coffee mug. “I just hope we made the right decision.”

Karen patted me on the shoulder before she went back into the living room. “We'll just have to see what happens. If it turns out bad, you know I'll have to pretend I don't know you, right?” she said with a smile.

While Karen rested with our two cats in the living room, I cleaned up the kitchen. I washed the cups with a little bottled water, and hung them on the little counter top rack. As I put Karen's cup up to dry, I was struck by how lucky we all were in Cannon Fields. Outside the gates, just existing was a continuous struggle. Undead monsters prowled the woods, and the living weren't too nice either. The poor guy in the infirmary was testament to the harsh realities in the cold world outside. Meanwhile, I sat here in a warm house sipping coffee, with a beautiful woman. We fight to keep it safe for as long as possible. Past incidents showed us how things can go bad in a hurry.

And Claire and I might have screwed it all up by bringing in a stranger.

A knock at the front door made me jump, and pulled me out of my deep thoughts. “I got it, Karen,” I said. She waved from the recliner.

A quick look through the peephole revealed Lisa standing on my porch. She was stamping her feet and blowing on her hands to ward off the cold. I opened the door, and let her inside to warm up. “What's up? Everything okay?”

Lisa went to the stove to try and warm her hands. “He's awake.”

“When?”

“About a half-hour ago. Doctor Connelly wanted to make sure he was fully awake before telling anyone. He's talking and drawing a crowd.”

I put on my jacket. Time to find out some things about our new friend. “Thanks, Lisa. I'll take it from here. You stay here and warm up a little. Keep Karen company.”

“Sounds good. Colder than hell out there tonight.”

I made my way to the infirmary to start the interrogation. Doctor Connelly met me at the door. “Can he talk?” I asked.

“He seems fully awake. Won't tell me his name just yet. He wants to talk to the tall guy driving the van first,” the Doctor said.

“I guess he means me.” We walked up the aisle in the infirmary to the isolation room. A small crowd had gathered at the glass window. Even some of the bed-ridden patients were staring at the stranger in the glass room.

“Okay, folks. He's not a lizard in the reptile house. Let's break it up,” the Doctor called out to the throng of residents at the window. Slowly, the group dispersed. I undid the bungee cord lock system on the door, and went to step inside.

Doctor Connelly took my arm to stop me for a second. “No weapons?”

“I don't want to break your rules, Doc.”

“We don't know who he is. In this case, I'll make an exception.” The Doctor handed me a small revolver from her pocket. It was her personal weapon. She may have hated guns, but I had a few rules of my own. No one lived in Cannon Fields without access to some kind of weapon.

“I don't want to appear too aggressive,” I said, checking the chambers of the silver-plated gun.  “What if he tries to grab it?”

“Just take it. It would make us all feel better.” She nodded to the wide-eyed occupants of the infirmary behind her.

I tucked the gun in my waistband, in the small of my back. “Okay. Secure the door when I go inside. Try to keep the window clear of people staring. Don't want to make him too nervous.”

Doctor Connelly nodded, and I stepped inside the quarantine room. The stranger was sitting up and watched me as I came closer to the bed. I walked up, one step at a time, watching him carefully. I didn't want him to jump off the bed in desperation and cause any trouble. The Doctor's gun nestled in my waistband pushed against me. It was positioned to be easily accessible in a fight, and I was prepared to use it on our new friend if necessary.

I reached the side of the bed, the stranger still staring at me. Neither of us had spoken yet. The silence was remarkable in the small room. The tension between us was so thick I could almost feel it wash over me like heat waves. It was a tension born of mutual mistrust. I imagine both of us had seen the depths of human depravity out on the road. Neither of us wanted to make any sudden moves that might set things off.