18. Over Coffee
Tammy’s news precluded a chain of unexpected occurrences that made for a very eventful day. The first of which was denial of what she told us. It bred arguments and anger. Burke was insistent that even if what Tammy said was correct, hell or high water he’d move us through—blasting both barrels if he had to. And while Tammy grew irrational with Burke—defensively calling him immature names—Rod kept insisting on a peaceful route, logically stating that the military couldn’t possibly have every road blocked. Somehow Rod’s reasoning was buried and unheard beneath the quarrel of Burke and Tammy. They veered so far off the subject of going to the cabin, we couldn’t steer them back. It went from one storm to another.
Rod’s magical sinuses were absolutely correct, and he made no attempts to hide his gloating when it started to rain. The cleansing waters arrived with a vengeance. Lightening cracked, and the thunder vibrated the walls. The rush of the storm blared, yet for as violent as the weather was, it had an opposite effect on us. A calm took over and we sat and listened to the rain as if it were a form of entertainment.
Then Nicky started to cry. It started as whimpers, a series of which none of us paid any attention. They grew into sobs, which transformed into wails. Loud and shrill she screamed out, like a baby with colic. She locked herself in the bathroom and wouldn’t come out. We thought that while she napped, she was hit with a dream that brought her out of her happy world and back into a reality she couldn’t face. The crying wouldn’t stop. It was continuous. Finally Burke had enough. He dismantled the hinges of the bathroom door, not to find out what was wrong, but to get her to quiet down. It was then we discovered why Nicky agonized.
Flesh eating sores, the size of dimes, doused Nicky’s hands. They spread across her fingers, her palms. Her lips had blistered, and she was lethargic from the ulcers in her mouth and on her tongue. There was nothing we could do to help her. Anything we had that would even remotely help, Nicky was unable to swallow. We were able to move her to the other small bedroom. As the clock ticked, her sobbing lost its steam, and we knew eventually she would exhaust herself and fall asleep.
We hoped.
I believe it was the first time ever that Rod and Dan totally agreed on anything. Tammy camped on the first floor of Mark’s house. She didn’t want to stay in the basement shelter; she saw no reason to be cramped. Rod along with Dan insisted that Nicky be moved to the first floor. Keep misery together, sickness in one area. Just on the outside chance the two of them had something other than radiation poisoning, they would be at some distance from those of us who were healthy.
Craig remained silent. My guess was he agreed with Rod and Dan, but out of loyalty to Nicky, wouldn’t say. I was torn. Burke used, ‘I need to think about it’ as his excuse not to deal with it at all.
Like it or not, Rod and Dan had a good argument. The situation had to be faced.
We welcomed the evening. It was a time of the day when things were peaceful and quiet. Nicky passed out—a good thing. The rest of us settled into routines we had become quite accustomed to doing after dinner. Dan usually menu planned for the next day. If beans were on the agenda, he’d soak them, then go to sleep well before nine. Rod wrote. Craig was building something electronic, what it was he didn’t say and we never asked. The kids broke out a board game to wind them down. They were on a Monopoly kick since Simon started recognizing what the cards meant. And me, I sat with Burke. Whether we were fighting, debating, talking or quiet, my nights somehow always ended with him.
It was like the rain gave the world a good bath. There was a different smell to the air. Gone was the stench of ‘rotten’ that lingered about at every turn. It was replaced with a crisp smell, and cool. The temperature had dropped a little, but Burke and I chose to sit outside. He lit a small fire, and we sat at the end of the driveway nearer to the backyards.
I watched the brown liquid in the whiskey bottle splash as Burke pulled it from his mouth. He gasped and then showed me the bottle in an invitation to join him in the drink. I declined, despite how badly I wanted the drink.
“Why?” Burke asked. “It won’t hurt.”
“I know. I’m afraid if I start, I won’t stop,” I answered.
“The problem with that?”
“The problem is, alcohol dehydrates you.”
“Yeah-yeah, well one shot isn’t gonna turn you into a fuckin’ prune. Here.” He showed me the bottle again.
“No. And why are you drinking? Didn’t you place yourself in charge of our lives or something?”
Burke grunted. “You think this bottle is gonna affect me. I think not.” He took a drink. “Not after the past twenty-four hours.”
“Burke?” I spoke softly. “What are we gonna do?”
“Jo, that’s a pretty open ended question. What are we gonna do about what? About Tammy? Nicky? The world?”
“You know what I’m talking about.” I stared at the fire. “The move. The barricades.”
“If they exist.”
“Why do you doubt that?” I asked. “Why would Tammy lie?”
“I’m not saying she’s lying. I’m saying she may not know.”
I laughed. “What in the world are you talking about?”
“She’s irrational, Jo.”
“Bull shit.”
“No, not bull shit.” Burke argued. “I’m being serious. She’s adamant about not getting help. Twice she got up and wandered from the dinner table. And both times she didn’t realize she had done it. Plus, why doesn’t she remember Dan’s name?”
“She knows his name.”
“She asked Rod his name.”
“She’s not crazy if that’s…”
“No.” Burke cut me off. “I’m not saying she went Nicky. I’m saying she’s not well. Sick people. Fevered people don’t think or see things correctly. What if she was fevered and was delirious or something.”
“OK. But what if she wasn’t. Then what? I believe her, Burke. She sounded rational when she told us about the barricade. Assume they are there. What are we gonna do.”
“I still want to leave in a week. Six more days and…” Burke quickly looked up.
“I heard that,” I said in reference to a scuffling sound.
Burke stood and lifted his shotgun.
“It’s me. Tanner Niles.” Tanner called out in the darkness. “Don’t shoot. I’m making my approach.”
Burke looked at me inquiringly and whispered, “What’s he doing here?”
Even though a part of me knew the answer to Burke’s question, I shrugged and stood as Tanner walked down the driveway.
He looked different. He wasn’t wearing the hospital scrubs that I was accustomed to seeing him in. Instead he wore camouflage pants, a tee shirt, and open camouflage jacket. From a distance I may not have recognized him if he hadn’t called out.
“Evening.” Tanner walked up to our campfire, immediately extending his hand to me. “Hey, Jo.” After shaking hands with me, he reached to Burke. “Burke. How are you?”
It was barely noticeable but Burke hesitated in shaking hands. “Tanner. I’m doing. So… what brings you here?” he asked as he sat back down.
“I’m taking Jo up on her offer. She said if I ever needed a break from the station. I was welcome here. And I really needed to get away from there.” Tanner shifted his eyes to me. “You remember, don’t you?”
“Of course,” I said.
Tanner released a breath. “Oh, good. I’m… I’m not intruding, am I?”
Oddly enough, Burke answered. “No. Have a seat. Sit with us. We’re only talking.”
“Thanks. But, before I do. I brought you something.” Tanner slipped his hand into his jacket, as he did, the fire illuminated two things that he wore. Both caught me by surprise. The handle of a revolver extended from a waist-side holster, the other item dangled from his neck.