The Remaining: Refugees (28 page)

But today was not a day when garments needed to be patched. And Dave didn’t have any hides to work.
Today was a day when the cold
,
or the flu, or whatever it was
that was
going around, seemed to be exploding
inside Camp Ryder
.

Angela walked into the medical trailer, and found Jenny with three full cots and two worried families with red, runny noses and children that coughed unabashedly into the air, the noise wet and rattling. The nurse-turned-village-doctor wore a surgical mask over
her face and sat o
n a stool, a boy of perhaps ten standing before her as she illuminated the back of his throat with a small flashlight.

“When did you start to feel yucky?” she asked.

“This morning,” the boy answered.

“And did you notice your nose getting runny any time before that?”

“Yes. And I had a sore throat.”

The mother broke in. “
Is it pneumonia?”

Jenny glanced up. “He doesn’t have pneumonia.”

“Can’t you give him some antibiotics?”

“Antibiotics will do more harm than good at this point in time. If he develops pneumonia, which I don’t think he will since he’s a healthy young boy, then we can talk about giving him something.” Jenny clicked her flashlight off. “At this point in time, he needs to eat, drink, and sleep as much as he can stand.”

The father looked around, his face turning red. “How are we going to find extra food to give him?”

Jenny was now stuck. She could do nothing but shake her head. “I’m sorry. Everyone is in the same boat as you guys.”

The mother took her son by the shoulders and guided him away. “Thank you anyways, Jenny.”

Defeated, Jenny leaned back
. “Yeah. No problem.”

Angela took that moment to make herself seen with a small wave of the hand, and offered Jenny an encouraging smile. The other woman looked exhausted. When she saw Angela, she waved
sedately
and stood up as though she weighed a thousand pounds.

“Thank God,” Jenny said, giving Angela a quick hug. “I’m drowning in here.”

“What can I do?”

Jenny glanced at the remaining family of sick people, and the three patients
lying
on their cots, two of them asleep, and the o
ther tossing about miserably
underneath a blanket, a plastic bucket within arm’s reach. She ushered Angela over away from the others and produced a yellow pill and another surgical mask from her jacket pocket.

“Here. Take the pill, and wear the mask.”

Angela inspected the pill. “What is it?”

“Just vitamins—it’ll help your immune system. But I have to treat it like
contraband
, because I only have a few left and if anybody sees it,
they’re
going to want some.”

Angela discreetly popped the pill into her mouth and swallowed it dry. Then she strapped the mask onto her face. “Okay,
” she said, slightly muffled through the itchy, sterile-smelling mask
. “What do you need me to do?”

Jenny pointed to the three cots. “This cold-flu thing is kicking our ass right now. Some of the older folks like these are starting to develop pneumonia after having it for about a week. These three are today’s casualties.”

Two days ago, the beds had been filled with different people.

“Where’d the others go?” Angela asked.

“They were still sick, but on the uptick, so I sent them back home. These folks are worse off, and I only got three beds.” Jenny shook her head. “I’m running low on antibiotics, too. The sooner Lee can get to that bunker of his, the better. I don’t know how many more pneumonia cases I can treat with what I have here.”

“He’s working on it.”

“I know.” Jenny shook her head. “Anyways, I have to talk to this family and figure out if they have the same thing as everyone else or some wonderful new thing that’s going to kick our ass. You mind dosing the three beds? And I think Mr. Clark threw up a little bit ago…if you could clean his bucket out.”

Angela nodded. “I’m on it.”

She cared for the patients as best she knew how, giving them their prescribed doses of antibiotics and talking to them, trying to cheer them up, trying to take their minds off of their miserable circumstances. She felt pity for them, though she tried not to let it show on her face. They were sick here in this strange world, forever removed from the things and the people and the places they knew. They suffered through without any of the comfort that those things could bring.

As
Angela
finished dosing the last patient, Jenny concluded her talk with this family—which was the same talk she’d given the previous family, and the family before that, and would probably give the family that followed: Keep them fed, hydrated, and well rested. Not much else could be done.

It seemed that they
might be getting a
lull
in business
when Bus stalked into the medical trailer.

He nodded to Angela. “Glad you’re here. Jenny’s gonna need the help.” He turned to Jenny. “There’s a group of
three refugees coming in from OP Benson
.”

“Good Lord...” Jenny pulled the surgical mask from her face. “
It never ends.”

Angela felt a measure of excitement. She’d never helped in the medical trailer when they were receiving newcomers. “What’s the big deal? Is one of them hurt?”

Jenny turned to her. “Maybe. Maybe not. We’re gonna give all of them a solid
,
full-body inspection. They either consent to it, or they can find another place to stay. We’re looking for bite marks, scratch marks, any wound that might look infected. We’re checking them for symptoms—not just for FURY, but anything else contagious. We have to figure out whether they need to be held in containment, or if they’re good to join the community.”

“Where’d they come from?” Angela asked.

Bus shrugged. “Out east, apparently. I didn’t get anything more specific.”

Angela and Jenny exchanged a glance.

“Okay,” Jenny stood up. “How long do we have?”

“Less than five,” Bus said. “Let me know when they’re cleared.”

“Alright.” Jenny heaved a great sigh. “Let’s get ready.”

Angela went to retrieve water and food—most of the refugees arrived dehydrated and starving. Jenny
cleared an area and dragged out some partitions made of PVC pipes and bed sheets that would serve as a privacy screen when she inspected the refugees.

They had barely finished prepping before the three refugees arrived.

Outpost Benson used an old silver Toyota Camry to conduct their patrols, and it was in this that the newcomers were driven to Camp Ryder by two of the four men currently assigned to Benson. The two men from Benson rode up front, and the three refugees in the back. As they piled out, Angela sized them up from her vantage point at the mouth of the medical trailer.

A teenage boy and a slightly younger-looking girl that were obviously siblings stepped out and huddled together, uncomfortable, apprehensive
,
and
clearly wary of the sentries that watched them with ported rifles. The teenagers were both dark haired and fair-skinned.

A middle-aged man exited the Toyota last. He had a shaggy head of wavy, gray hair and a beard that was playing catch-up, still dark along his jaw, though the chin was streaked with gray. He had dark eyes that immediately regarded his surroundings with suspicion. He hovered over the teenagers, his arms encircling them protectively.

Jenny didn’t wait for an invitation. She marched out confidently, even showed a little bit of attitude, as though the newcomers were just another chore in the middle of her busy day. Angela was unsure how much of this was genuine, and how much was a cultivated act to demonstrate her confidence to wary and untrusting patients.

Angela followed a few steps behind.

Jenny left her surgical mask off, and Angela figured there was a reason for that, so she removed hers. Perhaps wearing the surgical mask during introductions was a little too
hi-nice-to-meet-you-can-I-have-your-kidneys?

Jenny extended a professional hand to the man and after a moment’s hesitation, he shook it warily. “I’m Jenny, I’m the nurse here at Camp Ryder. Has anyone already explained to you what we’re going to do?”

The man looked about, unsurely. “I don’t…I don’t think so.”

All three of them seemed to be in what Angela had heard Jenny and some of the others refer to as “the refugee daze.” After fighting and surviving by the skin of their teeth while on the road, and then finally finding a safe place, many of the refugees would seem to mentally shut down
, as though they suspect that they were only sleepwalking in a dream.

“Okay.” Jenny pointed towards the medical trailer. “Come on, hon. What’s your name?”

“Kyle. This is Mike and Holly.”

Jenny smiled perfunctorily. “Nice to meet you guys. So, Kyle…we have food and water, which you’re all welcome to. Before we agree to let you stay, or to interact with any of the people here at Camp Ryder, including the traders you see over there—”
She pointed to her left. “—we have to do a kind of physical screening. Make sure you don’t have anything catching that could hurt the rest of us. I’m sure you understand.”

“Yes.”

“It is a full-body screening,” Jenny clarified. “So each of you will need to strip down completely. I know it’s uncomfortable, but it’s very necessary for our safety and yours. If you’re willing to do the screening and everything is good, then you’re welcome to stay, or trade, or move about as you wish. If you don’t want to subject yourself, then you know where the door is and we wish you the best of luck.”

They reached the medical trailer and Jenny turned to face Kyle again. “So?”

“Uh…” He looked down at the two kids. “Yes. I guess.”

“Okay then.”

Angela stood impressed. She would have thought that Jenny’s speech would have been met with more resistance, but clearly the all-business approach worked well for Jenny. It made her seem more credible and the situation less invasive and more of just an
other
everyday occurrence.

Jenny pointed to a couple folding chairs against the wall. “Gentlemen, if you guys want to have a seat right there, I can get started with Holly here.” She gestured towards the recently-erected privacy screen. “Is that okay with you Holly? You’ll be right
there on the other side of those sheets
. Nobody will see you, but they’ll be right there if you need them, okay?”

Holly looked at Kyle and Mike, clearly afraid of leaving
them
, even just
to go
ten feet away.

Angela stepped in, treading a little lighter than Jenny. She knelt down just slightly—the girl was tall for her age, but still shorter than Angela—and she gave an encouraging smile, the same smile she gave Abby when she was trying to convince her to do something that she didn’t want to do. “It’s okay, Holly. I felt the same way when I first got here. But you know what?
These are
the good guys.”

Holly took some time considering it, though she relaxed visibly as she looked around. Maybe it was Angela’s tone, or Jenny’s business-like manner, or the people of Camp Ryder that walked by the entrance to the medical trailer
and nodded and smiled and waved at them. Eventually she seemed to accept that these people were not out to get her.

“Okay,” she said in a mousy voice.

Jenny took her by the hand and led her back behind the privacy screen to get started, while Kyle and Mike took their seats, their dirty hands clasped nervously in their laps like a couple of childr
en waiting outside the principal
’s office.