“So, you think the people here are safe?” Brooks asked. “They won’t be attacked?”
“I think it’s unlikely Durant’s forces will come this way, but we need to be ready.” Caden looked at the clock on the wall. Why do all my meetings end so late? He moved the cups and office equipment off the map. Glancing at Brooks he asked, “Before I head home is there anything I should be updated on?”
“Well…power in the town is up and stable. One generator at the coal power plant is operating. Unfortunately we had to cannibalize the second generator to get it running. However with the one operating generator and the hydroelectric dam, we have enough power for the town and surrounding community.”
Lifting his cup, Caden took a big gulp of lukewarm coffee. Despite the taste, he smiled. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“We’ve added more soldiers,” Fletcher said.
Caden raised an eyebrow.
“Our muster is now sixty-three. A few are stragglers just now getting here. Others were on leave and can’t get back to their regular units so they came here, and two guys enlisted before the attacks, but hadn’t yet reported, so they asked if they could report with us.”
“Thank you both for that good news.” If war doesn’t come, we might just make it through this crisis. He rolled up the map and secured it with a rubber band. “Start drilling the men on the rifle range early tomorrow and make a list of necessary supplies. I need to talk to the sheriff, so I’ll be in late.”
The next morning as the smell of breakfast drifted upstairs, Caden stumbled down dressed in his uniform. The world was still dark, but a light was on in the kitchen. The radio on the window sill, told of relief supplies from Canada being distributed in Hansen.
Sitting on the far side of the table feeding Adam, Maria looked his uniform up and down. “You do know it’s Saturday, right?”
“The military isn’t really a Monday through Friday job.” He sat across from her. “I’ve got to talk to the sheriff.”
She frowned. “At least call and make sure he’s there before you go.”
Pouring coffee he nodded. “Good idea.”
The man who answered the non-emergency line assured him Hoover was in. “Do you want to hold?”
“No, I’ll talk to him in person. Just tell him I’m coming.” After a quick breakfast he went straight to the sheriff’s office, but once inside was told Hoover went to the hospital. Caden was startled. “I just called. They said he was here. Is he okay?”
“Hoover’s fine. It’s his Mom.” The deputy shook his head. “She’s not doing well.”
He hurried out of the building. This is not a great time to be adding worries. Is there a good time? As he slid into the driver’s seat, Caden knew he had to warn the sheriff that war was possible.
Driving toward the facility he pondered the name, Hansen General. A month ago he lived in metro Washington D.C., home of giant world-class hospitals such as Walter Reed and Georgetown University. Since a high school skiing accident, he had not been to the old brick building that served as the community medical facility. He had no idea how many beds were in the place, but he was certain he could count them on his fingers.
A few blocks down he turned the corner and was immediately confused by several modern buildings. A drugstore, a clinic, a medical professional building…where is the…. Then he saw another structure partially hidden behind the others and a line of cedar trees. Ahead a sign read, ‘hospital parking.’ He pulled into a surprisingly full lot.
A tent village existed along one edge of the parking area. Campers, RVs and cars filled about half of it. Inside a group of people huddled around the front desk where a harried worker tried to answer questions. A deputy stood to one side.
“Where’s Sheriff Hoover?” Caden asked.
“I saw him come in a little bit ago.” The deputy pointed right. “He went that way, but I’m not sure where.”
Caden walked in that direction and was soon lost in a maze of pastel blue passageways. The rooms were filled and nurses hurriedly wove around cots that dotted the halls. He would need more than fingers and toes to count the beds. Ahead he saw a familiar face and called out. “Dr. Scott!”
“Hello. How are your injuries?” The doctor asked as she approached. “I meant to get back over and see you but,” she glanced around the ward, “it’s been hectic.”
“I can see you’re busy. The leg is fine.” Itches once in a while, but if I say that you might want to examine it.
“And your head? Any double vision…headaches.”
“No. I’m fine,” He looked at the beds scattered about the hall. “Were this many people from the area hurt?”
“Many are locals who were injured during the panic and looting along the freeway and in town before the blockade. Some have chronic illnesses like diabetes and HIV. They can’t get medicine now, so they come here. Others drove away from Seattle looking for medical care and found this place. We’re overwhelmed, but we try and help.”
A nurse called to her.
“I’ve got to go.”
“Oh, before you do. I need to find Sheriff Hoover. Do you know….”
She pointed. “Down this hallway and take the first left. Ask at the nurse’s station.”
As soon as he turned the corner, Caden saw the sheriff’s tan uniform at the end of the hall. As he approached he saw Hoover staring through a large window into a room. Inside a gray-haired woman lay in a bed surrounded by people. “They told me you were here to see your mother. Is she okay?”
Hoover glanced in Caden’s direction, shook his head, then returned his gaze to the room. “She had a heart attack the day of the Seattle blast and has barely hung on since. Some people have lost the will to live. I’m afraid she is one of them. Half of those in the senior home are dead from shock, stroke, heart attack, neglect or….” He shrugged.
“Your mom isn’t that old and she has family.” He gestured toward those in the room and was suddenly embarrassed. Hoover knew his relatives, but Caden wasn’t sure who these people were. “They’re family—right?”
“Yeah,” he pointed, “Dad, my uncle Jim, Aunt Carrie and,” he gestured toward a woman coming down the hall, “you remember my sister.”
Caden turned. “Debra?” It had been ten years since he had last seen her, but instead of the slender high school girl he remembered, a much heavier woman stood before him. But the surprise came from more than that. There was too much makeup, too much jewelry, and way too much cheap perfume.
“Well, hello,” she said and popped her gum. “I heard you were back in town.”
Caden smiled. “Hello, it’s nice to see you again.” He glanced at the sheriff and knew there would never be a way to express it, but he was now, and would forever be, grateful that Hoover had arrested them that night at the graduation party before anything happened.
Small talk ensued for a minute then Caden said to the sheriff, “I need to discuss something with you. Together they moved to a corner next to a storage closet.
“There is no easy way to say this so here it is, I think civil war is coming to America.”
Hoover blinked and stared off into the distance for several moments. “Does this have to do with the Chinese and that treaty? I heard about that on the radio.”
“Yes, and the fight might come to Hansen.”
The sheriff banged his fist on the wall, and cursed. “Aren’t there enough problems?”
“We don’t want this fight. Durant is the one forcing it.”
“Tell me Mr. Military, what is going to happen here if your war breaks out?”
“It’s not my war. Hansen might be fine—I don’t know, but I’ve been ordered to stop any units loyal to Durant.”