“Talk about an ironic full circle.” She placed the book next to him. “Take care of it. I’ll be back with your family.” She began to leave.
“Deana.”
She stopped. “Yeah?”
“Your father was a good man. You take after him.”
Her lips immediately pursed and she tried to fight out the sad pout. Instead she forced a smile, nodded her head and left.
It was only an eight block walk, but since she didn’t have a clue what was out there, she hadn’t a clue how long it would take.
Deana packed a few medical supplies and put them in a side purse which she wore under her coat. She brought a flashlight with her because that man who hit Kira with the car told her it was dark, he also gave her directions and offered to go with her.
She declined and headed there alone.
There was a dim feel to the day, heavily overcast and even though it was spring, it was cold. She layered her clothing, wearing a men’s heavy coat and a knit cap. There was a stew of odors in the air, a mixture of death, burning and sewage.
There were so many dead rats, Deana had to watch her footing.
The buildings were mainly intact except for busted windows. Some had scorch marks. People made camps inside the buildings, some were on the streets, and others lived in cars.
Those barely stood, or barely moved. They were dirty and scared, their faces held confusion. As she walked down the street, they watched her. How different she must have looked.
She kept moving, it was only eight blocks.
The further she walked from the hospital the more bodies she saw. They died in the middle of the street, leaning against a building, or huddled together with others.
Just about at the garage, she stopped when she could see the huge dark cloud in the distance hovering where Washington D.C. was. She didn’t realize until that moment how truly close she was to the blast and how lucky she was to be alive.
When she arrived at the garage, she hesitated and wondered if she was misled. There wasn’t a soul around and the building looked still.
She looked down to the address she wrote on her glove and it matched the building. After turning on her flashlight she headed down the ramp.
The first level of the garage was empty and semi lit from the daylight that seeped down the ramp. She crossed the garage and headed for the ramp that led to level two.
At the top of the ramp she heard coughing and could see a hint of light.
“Hello!” Deana called out. “Hello!” She didn’t think about her safety, she should have. Deana could have been jumped or attacked, but at that moment it didn’t cross her mind.
As she reached the bottom of the ramp she called out again. “Hello! I’m looking for Macy Hill!”
As she emerged to the second level she spotted a small fire burning in a can, there was one light in the corner, it looked like a headlight.
There were at least a dozen people, some sat on the floor, some on seats taken from cars.
“I’m looking for….”
“Deana!” Macy shouted.
Deana swung the beam of her light and caught Macy heading her way. She was followed by Terrence’s mother, June and Mylena.
Macy gratefully approached Deana. “I would hug you, but I’m a mess.”
Deana didn’t care, she reached out and embraced her.
“What are you doing here?” Macy asked.
“I was working at the hospital when Terrence came with Kira.”
Macy whimpered and covered her mouth. “He made it. I was so worried. I should have gone with him.”
“Stop,” Deana told her. “It is mass confusion at the hospital, but he made it with her, yes.”
“How is she?”
“She’s hanging on, but she’s been seriously injured, Macy.”
Macy sniffed and nodded. “I know. I knew when he left with her.”
Deana could only imagine what Macy was going through. Macy looked drawn and gaunt.
“My son?” June asked. “How is my son?”
Deana paused before saying anything. “He’s sick, as you know. Probably a lot more sick than you thought. That’s why I came. I’m here to get you. You should come with me,” Deana said. “There isn’t much time.”
TWENTY-SEVEN – Arrival
During the time that Kit spent inside Harland’s shelter, she had a hard time distinguishing day from night. She relied heavily on a clock to tell her if it was morning or evening. Still, she had trouble and got confused. But there was no problem whatsoever knowing it was nighttime when she arrived back at the bunker after a full day’s work at the hospital.
She herself checked in over one hundred and forty people. When Abe arrived to bring her back, the line was still long.
He didn’t speak much about what he did, only that they were preparing the school gym and already didn’t have enough supplies for everyone.
So many didn’t get a bed, or cot. They ran out of sleeping bags and the sick were laying on the wooden gym floor covered by coats and anything else they could use for blankets.
They were hopeful and optimistic that when aid arrived the next day, they would bring enough supplies. It was heartbreaking that those who sought comfort, for their final hours, or days were left to find it on a hard cold surface. Some were so sick, they didn’t even notice.
It had been one week since everything happened and during that week, Kit went from in shock, to indifference as she sat in the shelter unaware of the extent of other people’s injuries.
Then after several hours, she spun into depression. The enormity of everything slammed her. How precious human life was and it was discarded so easily by people with a chip on their shoulder.
The United States launched as well.
For the differences everyone face, they all were the same. Struggling, destitute and dying.
Everyone was dying. Just some more quickly than others.
Kit slept a good bit of time. She didn’t know if Harland came back at all.
Fully dressed and ready to go back out, Kit waited on Abe.
He finally stepped into the main room. “Bathroom is free if you need it?”
“No, I’m good. I showered last night,” Kit said. “There’s coffee left on the burner in a pot if you want the rest.”
“Thank you,” Abe walked to the stove. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” Kit embraced her cup with both hands. “No.”
“No? What’s going on?” Abe sat down with her.
“Everything. Yesterday. Going back.”
“You don’t need to go back.”
“Yeah, I do. We’re alive and healthy.”
“Actually, you’re not,” Abe stood her. “You are still suffering from that head injury.”
“I’m fine. Compared to everyone else, I am really good.” She sighed. “What’s next? That’s what keeps going through my mind. What’s next? This time next week, the following week, so many people are going to be dead. What happens then? How do we process it? Do we bury the dead, or just leave them be and go to another place.”
“I don’t think anyone has thought that far ahead.”
“They should. There should have been a plan. There was a plan for localized natural disasters. Terror attacks. Hell, there is a list of Presidential and FEMA directives that lay out in detail everything that would be done in case of all out global catastrophe. How to keep the government going, keep a portion of population alive. Yet, there is probably not one that say what the plan is after.”
“I’m sure there is,” Abe said.
“I’m sure there isn’t. Want to know why?” Kit asked. “Because no one believed it was going to happen. They should have. Right now everyone is preoccupied with helping the sick and injured, or being one of the sick and injured. What about after? Where do we go? Do we fraction off, start making our own communities. What are you going to do after the last person dies?”