Jennifer pulled her robe tight around her, then hurried upstairs to see who was there. Carol emerged from her bedroom just as Jennifer opened the front door to find Curtis Powell holding baby Madison. His face was rigid and unfriendly.
“Come in,” Jennifer said, swinging the door open. “It’s cold outside.”
Curtis kicked the fresh snow off his boots and stepped inside, then held out the baby. “Here,” he said, thrusting Madison towards Jennifer. “You need to take the baby back.”
Madison was awake, but not crying. She was wrapped in a pink blanket that Jennifer had retrieved from her old house two days before, her first time being there since Kyle’s arrest. Going back had been harder than she could have imagined, not only with the bloodstains in the bedroom carpet, but also because of the dead girl that had been found in the basement. She’d hurried in, found the box of clothes and blankets from when Emma was a baby, then retreated in a rush like she was escaping from Chernobyl.
“I was going to come over this morning,” Jennifer said, taking the baby. “I was just cooking now and…”
Curtis interrupted her. “It’s not about the food, or the help. The two babies are too much for Allison. She was struggling before this, physically and mentally. The pressure of caring for Madison, it’s too much. I’m sorry. I really am, but I have to think about my family and do what’s best for them. We just can’t help you with her anymore.”
Words escaped Jennifer as she looked from Curtis to the baby, then back to Curtis again. “What are we supposed to do? There aren’t any other options, you know. No one has baby formula, and Allison is the only one who’s nursing.”
Curtis shook his head. “Don’t put that responsibility on us,” he said, his voice stern. “That’s not fair. This isn’t our problem or our fault. We did our best to help, but it didn’t work out.” He looked at Carol, who stood close to Jennifer, arms folded. “Listen, maybe, maybe there’s a way to, you know, to just let her…” he was having a hard time finding the right words. He stopped and thought a second, then continued. “Maybe you can just let her die.” He let out a deep, distress-filled breath and tried to smile, but couldn’t. “I know it sounds really cold, but she’s only three days old. She doesn’t know anything. If her mother had died a week ago, she never would have been born. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to live.”
Jennifer looked at him, aghast. “You can’t be serious!”
“You know,” he said, gathering resolve. “Like the Romans did when they didn’t want the baby, or like the Chinese do; they just leave it in a rice field. Call it a late term abortion, if that makes it easier. Nobody asked for this baby, and no one will blame you if you do something about it. Say it died of natural causes, and everyone will give you a hug for trying. There are plenty of other things for us to spend our energy on right now. This baby will just take food from people who need it more and who’ve earned it.”
Carol shook her head. “We won’t do that, Curtis. Tell Allison thanks for helping.”
He grabbed the door handle and paused. “We’re not bad people. You have to understand how tough things are, and not just for us. It isn’t wrong to look out for the good of the majority. This baby and a few other people are just a drag on the community. We don’t have the luxury to waste so much energy on them. When times are good, I get it. You can look out for the weak ones. But right now…” He stopped and shook his head.
“What would you have us do?” Carol asked, shocked by the gall of his suggestion.
Curtis shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t know; you’re the doctor. If we just don’t feed her, it would only take a couple of days. This baby, and some of the older people, are just takers, a burden on the rest of us. It’s time someone said what a lot of people are thinking. We’ve got to make difficult decisions.”
“That’s murder,” Jennifer said, glaring at Curtis and cradling Madison.
“It’s not murder. I’m not saying to shoot them, just ignore them. Let nature take its course.”
Jennifer shifted the baby to her shoulder. “When did she eat last?” she asked, unwilling to look Curtis in the eye.
“Less than an hour ago, but there wasn’t a lot of milk. Our boy had eaten before the baby woke up, and he drained Allison pretty good.” He opened the door and let himself out. “I am sorry, but it’s time to face the reality of our situation,” he said and closed the door behind him.
Jennifer turned to Carol, flabbergasted. “Can you believe him?” she asked, trying to control her anger, her voice shaking. “This poor baby. At least they brought her back to us alive.” She rocked Madison and kissed her on the forehead, causing her to stir.
“Don’t let it upset you, Jennifer. We asked a lot of them. They’re young and have a lot on their plate.” Carol took the baby from Jennifer. “I think I smell something burning.”
Jennifer ran downstairs and returned a minute later, toting the Dutch oven full of cooked wheat. She placed it in the kitchen sink. “Good thing you have a sensitive nose. I don’t think we lost too much.” She retrieved a stack of bowls from the cupboard and set them on the counter. “So what do we do? Talk the Shipleys into giving us milk every day?”
Carol nodded. “We do, but it needs to be goat’s milk if possible, not cow’s milk. Some of my clients raised their children on that exclusively.”
Jennifer paused. “Goat? Are you sure?”
Carol nodded. “Mother’s milk is best by a long shot, but there’s a growing community that swears that goat’s milk is the next best thing.”
“Does the Ranch have any dairy goats?”
“They do,” Carol said. “Not sure how much they’re producing now, though.”
“Any idea where we can get more baby bottles?” Jennifer asked, dreading the need to go begging once again.
CHAPTER 36
Sunday, February 12th
Moyie Springs, ID
It was just after noon when Kyle led Garfield towards the checkpoint on the east side of the Moyie Canyon Bridge. The sky was overcast, and a light snow fell intermittently, just enough to dust the highway and give the area the feel of winter. He’d seen guards as he approached the checkpoint, three people with rifles slung across their backs, who, when they saw him, became active. Two retreated, one inside a high-end motorhome parked at the end of the bridge, the other behind an embankment of dirt and timber that formed an elevated defensive position.
Kyle approached with a rifle slung over his shoulder and a handgun stuck in his belt, but his arms held to the side. He waved when he got within earshot. “Hello!” he called out.
The man that remained at the barricade waved back and waited for Kyle to approach. “What brings you to these parts?” the man asked when Kyle was close. He held his rifle in his hands, though still pointed at Kyle’s feet. A gold sheriff’s badge was pinned on his coat.
Kyle smiled nervously and took a look around. “I’ve come to check on my parents, Gene and Sandra Tait. They live in town here.” He noticed a rifle aimed at him from behind the embankment and a woman watching through a slit in the curtains of the motor home.
The sheriff, a tall man with broad shoulders and a weathered face, stroked his scrubby beard while sizing Kyle up. He sniffed, shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t recognize the names. Where do they live?”
Kyle pointed southwest across the canyon, towards the facing hillside. “Over there, on the hillside. They have a bed and breakfast with five small cabins. Call it Moyie Manor. They’ve only owned it a few years, so you might not know them.”
The sheriff nodded. “I know the place, though I don’t know them. Bad time of year to be traveling, isn’t it?”
Kyle nodded. “I’d have come sooner, but I was in Houston when the EMP happened. Took me a while to get home.”
The man looked at Kyle wide-eyed. “You walked here from Houston?”