“Okay, that’s done. No turning back.” Getting to her feet and turning around, she was surprised to see that Ellerton had retreated farther than she’d expected; he was standing in the shadows.
“Ted? Are you okay?”
She went closer and found him sobbing quietly, one hand up against his mouth. In the other hand was his iPhone, and on the screen was a text message.
“Ted, what’s wrong?” she asked, gently lifting the hand holding the phone so she could see what had got him so upset. Then, “Oh, my God…” She said this very quietly at first, quickly reading over the message from Andrew Corwin. She repeated it much louder when she read it again.
“Ms. Hollis—”
She broke into a run, and when Ellerton tried to go after her, he got tangled in one of the inoperable chairs and went down in a noisy crash.
“Marla!” he called out as he lay sprawled on the floor. “Don’t!”
But she was already out the door and gone.
20
Kerrick’s vital signs improved slightly during the twenty-minute ambulance ride to the hospital. In the back, Brody determined that the patient had at least four broken ribs, a broken collarbone, a dislocated shoulder, a concussion, apparent nerve damage in his left arm, and possibly a ruptured spleen. Some of the lacerations on his face were horrifically deep, and his left eye was so damaged it seemed unlikely he would ever see out of it again.
As the gurney was pulled into the ER’s access way, Emilio told Brody, “Unit Four will be here to pick you up in ten minutes. There’s something going on at Charter House, and they need your help.”
Brody nodded without looking back, crashing through the swinging doors. Emilio knew that Kerrick would have to be decontaminated before treatment could begin, and hoped the time spent there wouldn’t be the deal breaker in saving his life.
Back on the road, with the wipers swinging madly, Emilio reached up to turn on the radio. What he’d already heard on the way to County General had been almost impossible to believe — hundreds suffering from radiation poisoning, many of them people he knew, people he saw nearly every day. Helen at the post office, Cindy at the bank, Kira at the sushi place — he had long ago come to understand that a person’s life was a fabric, with threads of many colors woven into any number of designs. Now a lot of those threads — threads that he liked very much — were being pulled out and thrown away.
The fingers of depression had begun to claw at him, of a kind he’d not known since he was a boy and his stepfather was beating him three or four nights a week while his mother cowered in the corner, tearful and impotent. At times like this, he needed Sarah. Nothing made the demons turn and run like the sound of her voice. She was his magic antidote — her voice, her cheerfulness, her bubbling positivity, her wellspring of strength… Sometimes he felt bad about his emotional dependence on her. Whenever he thought about it, he pictured a child of eight or nine with his arms wrapped around his mother’s neck as she hauled him along, far too old to be carried but unable to move on his own. He hated this about himself, but there were times when he just couldn’t do without her.
This was one of those times. The president had recently made a live address, assuring everyone that emergency responders in all major cities within close proximity — most notably Philadelphia and New York — were ready to act. In spite of the president’s calm demeanor, the analysts spared no time cranking up the sirens of doom, laying out the unthinkable details. The commentators had said thousands might die, and tens of thousands more would suffer lingering illnesses — everything from blindness and bleeding bowels to birth defects. New York and Philadelphia might turn into ghost towns overnight, uninhabitable for years to come, with the stock market shuttered. America’s economy could topple, plunging lower than in the Great Recession of 2008, or the Depressions of the 1930s and 1870s.
What made it all particularly chilling was the fact that it wasn’t just a media fantasy. If the storm maintained its current course and strength and fissile material continued pouring out of the damaged reactor, radiation could carry far enough to settle on the major industrial corridors of the northeast. When Emilio first thought that, gooseflesh broke out all over him. He’d been so focused on the welfare of his town, and peripherally concerned about a few others close by, that the wider consequences hadn’t occurred to him. America, shut off as if someone had thrown the emergency switch.
Wanting desperately to talk to his wife, Emilio reached up to press the button on his Bluetooth, which was nestled in his right ear, when a call came in. For a moment he filled with anticipation, until the female cyber-voice announced a number that was familiar but wasn’t hers.
“Hey, Tim,” he said. Tim Evans had been Emilio’s boss for the last four years. A longtime veteran of the emergency-response profession, he was smart, level-headed, and fair. Emilio liked him immensely.
“How’s it going out there?”
“As good as can be expected. We just got Mr. Kerrick into County.”
“You’re headed back here now?”
“Yeah, I’m on my way.”
“Okay, good. You need to change and take a break.”
“I suppose.”
He didn’t like the idea of taking a break, not with so many people still needing help. But his logical, reasonable side knew it was necessary. He had been going since early this morning, immersed in circumstances so unusual that they were taking a toll emotionally as well as physically. Part of him, a part that he considered somewhat heroic, thought, If I just keep going, stay fixed on the job at hand and on my desire to reduce suffering, then some otherworldly force will carry me through.
But that was fantasy, and the reality was that he was merely mortal. He wanted nothing more than to spit in the face of Fate by ensuring that there was as little human damage done as possible. He wouldn’t be able to do that unless he took a little time to change into a fresh outfit, shower, rest, and even eat something. Then he would be even better prepared to come back and save the day.
“… Evacuation,” Evans said in his ear.
“Hmm?” Emilio was shaken out of his reverie. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get that.”
“I said, you’ll need to have your wits about you when they start the evacuation.”
“Right.”
“So come on back and power down for a bit. There are three other units out there. We’re on top of it.” He could hear the smile in his boss’s voice.
“All right, see you shortly.”
He returned his attention to the road, which was only visible for a few car lengths before being erased by the misty, deadly rain. Dizziness swept through him, in concert with a churning in his stomach that reminded him of the light-headed nausea he’d felt when he’d gone fishing with his Uncle Miguel in Puerto Rico a few years ago. It was the first time he’d ever been on a boat and, he’d decided, the last. He didn’t throw up over the side, but he came close. That same blurry feeling came over him now, and for a moment he thought he was going to black out.
The dizziness cleared quickly but the percolations in his gut lingered for a bit. Hungry, he thought. I need something to eat. And not soda or chips. An apple, perhaps. Yes, that sounded good. The fridge at the station was always stocked with healthy stuff like apples, oranges, strawberries, raspberries, bottled water, and juices. Then I’ll take that nap, he told himself. I guess I really do need it. First the decontamination and a shower, then some fruit, and then a little rest.