“Oh, I recognize the name alright. That makes me worried now about that Ace. He’s not from the 149th.” Briggs exhaled. “He was government. Homeland Security.”
Lodi, Ohio
Tom wanted to kick himself for being so insensitive. With Baby Doe his new and self-proclaimed responsibility, Tom needed help with the store. People came in regularly, grabbed a movie then returned it. It was like the public library.
He had gone over to Joey’s house. Hit and Run Video had two employees aside from Tom before the flu, his daughter Dylan and Joey, a teenager.
Tom went to Joey’s to see if he wanted to come back to the store, something to do, and was surprised that the seventeen year old boy was living alone. His parents had both died of the flu.
He asked if they boy had eaten, if he was okay. Joey was glad Tom stopped by and quickly accepted the offer. Then Tom made another. He told Joey that since he had the baby, he could use help at the house.
The teenager would pack his bags and move in with Tom, after he worked his shift, of course.
Tom put Joey on the three to seven shift. Dylan had hated that shift. Of course, she hated all shifts. Tom’s mind wasn’t on the business. He had tried to get a hold of Rose and she wasn’t answering. He wanted to see if anyone would volunteer to take a trip. He couldn’t get a hold of Mick, and Baby Doe seemed to be constantly hungry and fussy.
Tom’s mood worsened by the hour. At least he knew his grandsons were safe, but they hadn’t called, and Tom wanted to speak to them. Before he settled for dinner or called Nelson to see if he could do a search party for Rose, Tom stopped at the video store, Baby Doe perched on his hip.
“Hey, afternoon, Mr. Roberts, how’s it going?” Joey asked.
“It’s going,” Tom answered. “How are things here?”
“Weird.”
“How so?”
“Well, aside from it being busy, the phone keeps ringing.”
“The phones are ringing?” Tom asked. “Are you answering it?”
“Dude, of course. But that’s not what’s weird. I keep getting a wrong number.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Some guy keeps calling here, saying his name is Doctor Kitty. You know, like little kiddy or kitty cat, and he keeps on asking for our virologist. Something like that. I told him it was the wrong number, we only had movies. But he called back. He thinks I’m falling for his joke.” Joey shook his head. “Kitty.”
Tom took a second, trying to remain calm, keeping in mind all the boy had been through. “Joey, did it dawn on you, in a post-pandemic world, maybe folks wouldn’t be playing prank calls?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
Joey shrugged.
Tom grabbed the phone and turned the base. He clicked through the list of numbers that had called into the store. “Three times? Was he the last one that called?”
“Yes, sir.”
Tom handed Baby Doe to Joey, grabbed a rental slip and wrote down the number. “Watch him.” Tom walked toward the door. “Don’t drop him. Be nice. I’ll be back.”
“Okay.”
Tom paused at the door, looked down at the paper. “Wrong number,” he grumbled with a shake of his head and walked out.
Erie, PA
“I can’t!” Lola cried, shaking her head.
“You have to,” Rose insisted.
“I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Listen to me.” Rose grabbed her wrist. “If you don’t, then you’re going to have to deal with my dead body in here. I have to stop this bleeding and block this lung.”
“It’s going to hurt you.”
“It will, but it will feel better after, I promise.” Rose stared her in the eyes. “Please, Lola.”
“Okay,” Lola said reluctantly.
Rose had taken the draw strings from several canvas sacks. She found a small sack, folded it to make a binding wrap, and had it partially on her abdomen, with two drawstrings wedged within her fingers. After Lola agreed to help, Rose gripped one end of the binding.
The plan was simple. Push, wrap and tie. However, Rose couldn’t do it alone.
“No matter what,” Rose told her, “I’ll try not to scream. When I inhale, you push that bone in place as best as you can. Try to get it back into the injury.”
Lola shuddered.
“Baby, I know this is tough. I need your help, okay?”
Lola sniffled and nodded.
“Ready?” When she got the agreement, Rose inhaled.
She groaned and cried as Lola pushed the rib back into place. She was too gentle and Rose urged her to be forceful.
The pain was tremendous and Rose didn’t need to see when the bone made it back in. When Lola succeeded, she held it in place, then brought the binding over, still keeping her hand hard and with pressure to the fractured area.
“Hold it. Hold it,” Rose instructed and brought the first drawstring over. She tied it. “See if you can make the binding tighter.
Lola did and Rose secured the second drawstring.
She had done the same to her leg, but that wasn’t broken, just badly bruised. Once her ribs were bound, Rose exhaled fully. “That actually feels better.”
Lola wiped her hand under her nose. “You sure?”
“Positive. I can actually…” Rose took small breath, “… inhale without that dagger feeling.” She extended her hand to Lola. “Help me stand.”
“Maybe you should rest.”
“No. I need to stand. Get my blood circulating. I don’t want a blood clot.” She wiggled her fingers.
Lola grabbed her hand and pulled.
It took some struggling but with a grunt, Rose managed to get to her feet. At first she was half bent and then slowly she stood upright, holding on to her side. “Thank you.”
A new noise caught their attention. A slow, loud, clapping.
Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap.
Rose looked over her shoulder.
A man stood there. He wore jeans and a sweatshirt. He was impeccably clean, and his gray hair was buzzed so close to the scalp, in the right light he would have looked bald.
“You are impressively resilient,” he said.
“That’s Ace,” Lola whispered.
“Ace?” Rose looked at Lola then to the man. “This is him? He doesn’t look all that tough. I would have run away from him in a heartbeat. How’d you get stuck here?”
Ace laughed. “You’re feisty and she didn’t run away because where would she go?” He lifted his hands. “She has nothing. We feed her. She, unlike you, doesn’t have resources.”
“I don’t have resources,” Rose said.
“Yeah, you do. And obviously, you’re resourceful.” He pointed to her makeshift bandages.
“I don’t have a choice now do I?” Rose asked. “Obviously, you don’t want me dead or you would have done it. And if you keep me around longer, waiting on killing me, I might as well have my strength up. I won’t go down alone.”
“I believe that.” He folded his arms.
“What’s your game here?” Rose asked. “I’m obviously some sort of prisoner.”
“You are. You inured one of my men and killed another.”
“Your men are bastards,” Rose spat. “They threatened me and the other ones out there burning towns, well, if they represent your little group here, then you’re all bastards. So, I’m, a prisoner. Sentence me, kill me or let me go.”
“Can’t do any of that. And I can’t kill you just yet.”
“Why is that?”
“People are commodities.”
Rose coughed and laughed. “That’s a fake compassionate response.”
He smirked. “You think I’m being a humanitarian about people being commodities? No. Right now, people are bargaining chips. For things I need. After I get them, they’ll be useful for work and will need what I have.”