The Journal: Crimson Skies: (The Journal Book 3) (18 page)

“I don’t know,” I answered him honestly. “I
would like to think that eventually, the Earth will stop its
rumblings and movement, and commerce can start back up again. Maybe
with limited trading, that will get things going again.”

“What do you miss the most?”

“Oranges,” I said wistfully. “With the two
rifts that have divided the country into thirds, maybe being in the
third with Florida that will happen someday, even though there’s
only half of Florida left.”

~~~

I took a bucket of fresh water out to the
chickens and refilled their food dispenser. They were all huddled
in one corner of the coop, obviously frightened. I doubt we will
get many eggs until this storm passes.

“I got hit by a few drops of rain just now,”
I told Mark as I hung up my jacket. The sky was still dark with
rolling clouds. It was only noon, though it looked like nine at
night. We were both watching the rain increase when a bolt of
lightning hit the cellular tower a half-mile away. The simultaneous
crack of thunder shook the entire house.

“Wow! That was close.” Mark shivered.

“I think that was the end of our phone
service.” I picked up my cell phone from the computer desk and
turned it on. “It says ‘searching for service’. Yep, the tower was
hit, and I really doubt there will be anyone out to fix it this
time.” I shut the phone off out of habit and left it on the
desk.

“I guess the bright side is that metal
structure is a good lightning rod; as long as it’s standing we are
probably safe from a direct hit,” Mark concluded.

October 4

“Do you notice anything, Allex?” Mark
asked.

“The thunder isn’t as loud,” I replied,
amazed at the quiet that really wasn’t quiet.

“I’m going to venture that the storm is
moving on,” he said, looking out the glass door. “It looks to be
moving right over Marquette. I hope they’re ready. A three day
lightning storm is hard on the nerves.”

I was washing the morning dishes when there
was a pounding on the back door.

“Pete! Come in,” I said, opening the door and
putting away the gun I automatically grabbed when I heard the
knocking.

“Is the doctor here?” he asked.

Mark came out from taking a shower. “What is
it, Pete? Is one of the women in labor?” he asked anxiously.

“No, but Collins has been hurt,” Pete said.
“During that lightning storm, he was out checking on the dogs when
a tree was hit and split down the middle. Half of it landed on him.
We think his leg is broken, maybe an arm too.”

“When did this happen?” Mark asked, finger
combing his wet hair.

“This morning. He didn’t want us to bring him
in, said you probably wouldn’t treat him considering the way he
acted before,” Pete said. “I told him you weren’t like that. He
still protested, and now that he’s unconscious he can’t say
no.”

“Where is he?” I asked.

“We made a stretcher and put him in the back
of a pickup, the only one with a cap. I didn’t think it would help
any if he got soaked by the rain.”

“Yes, but
where
is he, Pete?”

“They’re at the clinic. We came in two
vehicles because you said you didn’t want anyone but me or Lenny
coming here, right?”

“Who else is there, Pete?” I asked
calmly.

“Just Adam, who’s driving, Collins, and
Claire, that’s Collins’ wife,” he told us.

I thrust the medic bag at Pete and turned to
Mark. “Go with Pete. I’ll get Eric and be right behind you,” I
said. “Your first patient! Do you need me to bring anything
else?”

“No, I think I’ve got what I need,” Mark
said, retrieving a box from the refrigerator that contained
pharmaceuticals.

~~~

I pulled into the clinic’s gravel parking lot
between two pick-up trucks. They had lifted Collins out of the back
and were headed indoors, followed by a very pregnant woman.

“You must be Claire,” I said to the young,
dark haired woman, “I’m Allexa, the doctor’s wife… and nurse.
Please, sit. Mark will do everything he can for Art. Trust me on
that.” With that, I went into the exam room and shooed Adam and
Pete out.

“Thank you, dear, it was getting crowded in
here,” Mark said. He turned on the scanner while I cut the fabric
of Collins’ pants up the outside to the waistband, folding open the
material so Mark had full view of the injuries.

“You’re being awfully neat with that,” he
commented.

“Hopefully his wife, or someone, can repair
the pants to a useable condition,” I replied.

I put on a mask and handed Mark one. We both
washed our hands up to the elbow, and dried. I held each glove
while he slid his hands in and then I did the same.

Mark positioned the digital scanner and
peered into the tiny screen.

“I see two breaks. One a simple fracture to
the tibia; another simple fracture to the fibula. They are both out
of alignment. I’ll have to set them here so I can check it with the
scan.” He moved the machine over. “Now let’s look at the arm.”

“Which one?” I asked. Then I noticed blood on
the left side. “With the blood, I would guess a compound
fracture?”

Mark moved the machine along the arm.
“Excellent, Allex. Compound fracture of the ulna. Cut the sleeve
off and let’s take a look.”

As I carefully cut the material away, a
jagged bone was exposed, protruding from the red and bloody skin on
the lower arm.

“It looks like a clean break. Lucky for him.”
Mark selected a vial and a hypodermic needle, and administered a
sedative. “I don’t want him waking up while we’re setting these
bones.”

I swabbed down the area with alcohol, and
while I held the upper arm stable, Mark pulled and forced the
exposed bone back under the flesh, maneuvering it into place. He
then rechecked the setting with the scanner and, once satisfied,
stitched the cut and splinted the arm. I wrapped and taped it
closed.

We followed similar procedures with the two
breaks in the leg, with Mark checking the alignment of the bones
carefully.

“Too bad we don’t have any plaster to make a
cast,” Mark commented as we wrapped the leg.

“Would a papier-mâché work?” I thought of
making light bulb puppets with the boys, and those were quite
hard.

He looked at me and grinned. “Yes, it might.
We’ll worry about that after Mr. Collins regains consciousness
though.”

We emerged from the exam/surgery room after
an hour and a half, and we were both exhausted.

“Mrs. Collins, Art suffered two simple breaks
in his left leg and a compound fracture in his lower left arm. All
three fractures have been set and he should heal completely,” Mark
said, sitting next to her. “We’re going to move him next door now
into the new hospital where I’d like to keep him under observation
for a day or two, if that’s alright. You’re welcome to stay with
him.”

“Thank you so much, Dr. Robbins. We didn’t
know what else to do, except come here,” Claire sniffled.

“You did the right thing. I told your husband
my services would be available to everyone, and that included him.
That also includes you, Claire. While you’re here, perhaps
tomorrow, I’d like to give you a prenatal exam. How far along are
you?”

“Oh, not far, maybe five months.” She placed
her hand on her very large belly. “He’s going to be a big boy!”

~~~

Even though the new hospital is next door to
the clinic, it’s still over a hundred feet away, so they loaded the
still unconscious Art back into the truck and drove over. I drove
over first, with a reluctant Claire, to make up the bed.

“Claire, please don’t be so nervous around
us. We’re not your enemy.”

“I do want to believe that, but Art said…”
she hesitated, “he said you helped Pete because you knew him, and
that you want to come and take our food.”

“That’s not true, Claire. Yes, we would like
to hunt and fish, however, the deer will eventually come back to
our area, so it’s not a necessity for us. Knowing there was another
group of people so close was encouraging to us and we just wanted
to reach out and see if we could be friends. I think our arrival
took Art by surprise and made him nervous.”

“That’s what Pete and Lenny said.”

Once they had Collins settled in the bed, I
made up the other one for Claire, all the while listening to the
conversation.

“Pete,” Mark said, “you know that Art and
Claire are perfectly safe here with us, though I’m not convinced
that the opposite would be true. Why don’t you and Adam go on home
and get some sleep. Come back around noon, Art should be awake by
then.”

Claire said something to Adam that I couldn’t
hear, and after that they left.

“It’s getting late, Mark, are you hungry?” I
asked.

“Yes, I sure am.”

“Then I’m going to run home and put something
together for all of us. I should be back in a half hour, after I
check a few things in this kitchen.”

The kitchen was small, and held a gas stove,
a refrigerator I could hear humming, and a few cupboards. I opened
a drawer next to the sink, to find a note:

“Mom, I washed all the dishes, silverware and
pots. I turned the refrigerator on to make ice and wiped out the
stove. Love, Amanda.”

Bless her thoughtful heart! There were two
pots, one fry pan, and a teakettle, with several mismatched bowls
and plates. I wouldn’t need to bring anything from home except
food.

~~~

“What did you bring us?” Mark asked, peering
over my shoulder where I was heating some water on the stove.

“I thought I would keep it simple and make
some rice with chicken soup. Art should be able to eat that when he
wakes up, shouldn’t he?”

“Definitely the rice and broth, and if he can
keep that down, he can have some chicken. Claire can have whatever
she wants.” Mark looked pensive.

“What’s on your mind, Mark?” I asked, slicing
some bread.

“It’s Claire. She says she’s about five
months, but she looks like she should have delivered last month.
Unless it’s twins, and even if it were, she shouldn’t be this big
yet. I think she’s comfortable enough with us now that she’ll agree
to a simple exam tomorrow. I hope.”

I ladled out some rice into three bowls,
topping it with a scoop of chicken soup, and set a plate of bread
in the center of the table that graced a corner of the tiny
kitchen.

“Claire, if you’re hungry, I’ve made some
soup for us,” I said. Her eyes lit up and I knew she had to be
really hungry.

She wolfed down the soup and sopped up the
rest with bread.

“That was wonderful, Allexa, thank you! I
haven’t had rice in a year and the only things any of us can make
are biscuits and cornbread, and we’re not very good at that,” she
confessed as she yawned.

“I think it’s time you get some sleep,” Mark
said to her as he finished his meal.

I made up a bowl of soup and two slices of
bread for Eric. He was still on guard duty in the foyer.

“Thanks, Mom, I was getting really hungry out
here.”

“I know you sleep lightly, Eric, so if you
want to lock up tight and take a nap, do so. I don’t think we’ll
have any trouble tonight.” I made my way upstairs where Mark was
already fast asleep.

October 5

Because of the pounding rain overhead, I
couldn’t hear the raised voices below us until I heard that one
word all mothers respond to.

“Mom!” Eric yelled up the stairs. “Doc! Mr.
Collins is awake.”

Mark and I had both slept in sweatpants and a
t-shirt, so we rushed down the stairs barefoot and alarmed. We
skidded to a stop when we saw both Eric and Claire restraining a
very upset Art Collins.

“What am I doing here? What have you done to
me?” he bellowed.

Mark crossed his arms over his chest and
calmly stared at his patient. “Well, Mr. Collins, it seems that you
had a tree fall on you and break several of your bones. Your
friends and your wife thought it prudent to seek medical help to
set said broken bones, which I did last night. As to where you are,
you’re in the Moose Creek General Hospital. Any other
questions?”

Collins slumped back down on the bed and
glared at us. He closed his eyes as a wave of pain hit him.

“Where are you feeling the pain, Art?” Mark
responded with concern.

“My arm, it burns,” he said through clenched
teeth.

“That’s a good sign, actually. Your arm had a
compound fracture, which means it was broken in half and part of it
broke through the muscle and skin. You have strong arms, so it was
a bit of a struggle pushing the bone back in place. Some pain
indicates the healing process has begun,” Mark explained. “The one
thing I can’t check for is internal injuries. If you feel any
discomfort anywhere other than your left arm or your left shin, you
need to tell me.”

“Am I a prisoner here?”

“Of course not. However, I would strongly
advise you stay another day for observation. Sometimes injuries
don’t show up immediately.”

Collins grimaced in pain again.

“Would you like something for the pain?” Mark
asked gently. When Collins reluctantly nodded, he went upstairs
where we had left the med kit.

“This needs to be taken with food. Are you
hungry? Think you can handle some soup?” Mark asked, his tone all
business again.

I warmed up the chicken soup and strained it
into a bowl of rice. Mark and Eric got Collins sitting up and
Claire stacked some pillows behind him. I handed her the bowl so
she could feed him, but he took the spoon from her and fed himself
while she held the bowl.

He closed his eyes, in contentment or
exhaustion, I couldn’t tell which, and when he opened them again,
he looked at me and said, “Thank you, that was actually good. We
haven’t had rice at the compound for a long time. Is that one of
the things you might be willing to trade?”