Which left Langstrom massively overworked seeing to the burgeoning wounded, his staff thinning out as people abandoned their positions since they weren’t being compensated for their work, and his family suffering deprivation and in constant danger with their freedoms severely restricted.
“I don’t want to abandon the injured there,” he finished in a heavy voice, head down and eyes on his long, graceful hands folded on his knees. “But the situation was untenable. I’m not willing to let my family suffer if I can do anything about it. So when I heard that a town that was doing fairly well was inviting qualified people to join them, I decided it was the chance we’d been looking for.”
“You sound like just what we’re looking for as well,” Matt said, “but we’d like to ask some questions.” He motioned. “This is our current doctor, Terry Lynn. He’s already looked over your credentials and declared them more than impressive.”
Even though they’d already been introduced Terry offered his hand, and Langstrom shook again. “I was only an intern before all this, Doctor,” Matt’s brother-in-law said, almost apologetically. “I have only the utmost respect for your experience, but I need to ask you some specific questions regarding your qualifications.”
“I understand,” Langstrom said gravely.
Terry may have been thrust into being the town doctor when it was all over his head, but he’d risen to the task as well as he was able, and saved lives. And now that he was being faced with replacement or at least demotion by a skilled surgeon, he rose to this task as well. He’d carefully thought out his questions, and presented them respectfully.
Most of it was hard for Matt to follow, a shockingly long list of surgical procedures Terry wanted to know if Langstrom had previously performed or could perform, as well as his statistics for complications during operations or in post-op recovery.
But some things were easier to understand. Like Langstrom’s experience in low-tech surgeries since the Gulf burned, and how well the surgeon thought he could operate with limited supplies and in poor conditions, without the aid of any of the usual equipment found in hospital operating rooms.
It turned out Langstrom had a wry sense of humor to go with his experience and skill. “You want to know how well I can cut a person open while blindfolded and using a butter knife?” he asked. “Or if I can suture him up with yarn and a knitting needle afterwards?”
Terry smiled wanly. “In a matter of speaking.”
The surgeon sat back, drawing a deep breath. “I’ve performed hundreds of surgeries of all kinds since the Gulf refineries attack. I’ve operated under the worst of conditions, using improvised tools sometimes.” Pain crossed his features, the pain of failure with disastrous results. Matt understood that pain himself. “I did the best I could. The operations didn’t always turn out well, and I learned some hard lessons. If you’re asking about statistics, I’m afraid mine became far, far worse after the world collapsed around me.”
“Understandable,” Terry said sympathetically. He also understood that pain.
Langstrom straightened. “But I’m ready to make the best of any situation, and do the finest job I can with whatever I’m given. I’ll pull my weight in this community, and provide more than enough value to make up for the resources my family needs.”
That seemed to conclude the interview. There were a few more handshakes all around as they headed back out for the next interviewee. That would be Langstrom’s wife Bernice: if the surgeon was invited in, which was almost certain, then of course his family would be too, and his services would more than make up for the added resources consumed.
But as Lewis had suggested, if possible the ideal situation was for the family members to also have useful skills. The Langstroms’ young son Bryce couldn’t reasonably expected to contribute much at his age, but Bernice’s hobby before the Gulf burned had been sewing and quilting, and before her marriage she’d been a grade school teacher. Not vital skills, maybe, but they could definitely aid the community.
On the way out the surgeon pulled Matt aside. “I referred members of my staff from camp for recruiting that are here as well, but not everyone was invited. Your interviewing process seems rigorous, so I’m guessing some of them probably won’t make the cut either.”
Matt nodded. “We appreciate the recommendations, but while doctors are always valued our resources are limited. We have to prioritize specific specializations like your trauma surgery, dentistry, and a couple others.” He looked at the man’s slightly uncomfortable expression. “Was there someone you wanted to make it?”
Langstrom nodded. “Ideally everyone, of course. They’re all friends and trusted colleagues. But my main concern is Margaret Johnson, who’s my wife’s good friend. She’d be crushed if Maggy had to go back to the camp.”
The name made Matt relax a little. “Well the town also has a serious need for OB/GYNs. While I make no guarantees, just as we still haven’t agreed on accepting your family even though your chances are almost certain, I can safely say your wife and her friend probably won’t be separated.”
The older man relaxed too, and smiled. “Thank you for the reassurance. Dr. Johnson really is one of the most qualified OB/GYNs I know, with decades of experience in childbirth and numerous house calls.”
Matt felt a surge of relief. He’d read Dr. Johnson’s resume, of course, but it was much better to hear from a reliable source, which Langstrom seemed to be. “I am very, very glad to hear that.”
The surgeon noticed Matt’s expression and seemed to make the connection. “Ah. Your wife?”
“Not just my wife,” Matt said, trying not to sound defensive. “But yes, she’s due in a couple months.”
The older man clasped his shoulder for a moment in understanding. “She’ll be in good hands, you have my word on it.”
Matt nodded gratefully. “Thanks.” He nodded out the door, where the committee was waiting. “Speaking of wives, we’re looking forward to meeting yours and getting acquainted with her. And you’re probably ready to eat.”
Trev felt like a third wheel during most of the interviews that took place over the next few hours. He had a few questions to ask about fighting experience, of course, but most of these refugees were being brought in for other skills besides combat experience and marksmanship.
From what he could see most of the potential recruits were exceptional people who tended to have a full college education and/or extensive medical schooling. They’d been picked out by Lucas and Ben from among thousands, not only for their skills but also for their integrity and hardworking nature. Most tended to be older, in their late twenties at least, since a formal education combined with work experience in their field took some time to gain. But there were some exceptions.
One of the applicants, a lovely woman in her early 20s named Hailey Nelson, had roughly the same level of education as Trev. Her draw for the town was that she’d grown up in a family that raised goats. They’d processed the milk into homemade cheese, soap, kefir, and yogurt, which they’d made a modest business of selling to satisfied customers. They’d also butchered excess animals for meat and made rugs out of their hides. More importantly, they’d harvested and woven goat fibers, and Hailey’s resume spoke to her skill working with wool as well.
Her knowledge of what could be done with the animal products was far more extensive than the Watsons’, who’d mostly just bottled the milk and slaughtered the animals. She’d also personally assisted with every task involved with the family business, including preserving the meat and making the rugs, as well as assisting with kidding and tending sick animals.
After quizzing her on her practical skills Chauncey was very enthusiastic about inviting her in. Being able to process and store what the goats and sheep produced long term would be important, especially in the summer when refrigeration wasn’t available. And it was better to know how rather than resorting to trial and error, even if Lewis had books on the techniques to help out.