“I know. Again, I’m sorry about running out on you like that.”
She smiled.
“Oh, there was a truck driver there, a regular white knight. He finally beat the crap out of the drunk, then walked us ladies down to the motel.”
She hesitated.
“You kind of surprised me, the way you took that man out in the drugstore.”
“You figured I was running out at first, didn’t you?”
“Well, to be honest, yeah, I did.”
“I didn’t, though.”
She chuckled softly. “You sure as hell didn’t. Bit underhanded maybe, but you settled it.”
“If you must fight, fight to win,” John said quietly.
“You know you got a cut hand, don’t you.”
He looked at his right hand, and for the first time the pain registered. Part of the broken bottle had laid a deep slice into his right forefinger clear down to the crease with his thumb.
Damn, it suddenly hurt like hell.
“Pull over; let me look at it.”
He drifted to the side of the road and came to a stop. She took his hand and gently spread the wound open; now it really hurt. “You’ll need stitches. Ten to twelve from the looks of it.” As she examined it, blood dripped onto her suit. “Be careful, your suit,” he said. She ignored him.
“I don’t have anything sterile on me. You should stop at a doctor’s.”
“Later. I want to get the medicine home first. Besides, the doc is most likely swamped right now.”
As he spoke he nodded towards the road.
Maury Hurt’s World War II Jeep was coming down off the exit ramp of the interstate, four people piled in, one a child with shoulders hunched over, pale faced, gasping. Lying across the back of the Jeep was an elderly woman who John could see was already dead.
“We don’t realize just how dependent we are,” Makala sighed, watching as the Jeep weaved around some stalled cars to head into town.
“I’d hate to be in my hospital right now. If the generators didn’t kick on, everyone in ICU or under surgery is most likely dead. I watched one poor fool killing himself last night. Had a Beemer like mine. The drunks kind of scared him and he insisted on pushing the car as if somebody was actually going to steal it. Damn fool. Someone told me later that he collapsed. People are crazy and this is bringing it out big-time.” She let go of his hand.
“If you can find something I’ll bandage it up, but you should get that medicine home.”
He wondered if she was inviting herself over. And at that moment he honestly didn’t know how to react.
He started the car back up and drove into town, turning onto State Street. More and more people were crowding in around the town hall complex. Poor Tom had a cordon of his officers out. A large hand-lettered sign was posted at the main intersection: “Emergency Medical,” pointing towards the firehouse next to the town hall.
“Maybe I should go over there and help,” she said.
“First get some food,” John replied.
He had already turned onto State Street, and seconds later the elementary school was in view.
“Why not go back there and get some stitches?”
“My mother-in-law can handle it,” he finally said.
“Sure,” and there wasn’t any reaction in her voice one way or the other. “Just make sure you dose it well with an antibiotic. If things are as bad as I heard you say to Liz, you can’t risk any kind of infection.” Yes, ma’am.
“Come on; it’s ‘Makala.’”
He smiled.
“Right.”
He pulled up onto the lawn of the elementary school. Pete was still at his grill. The line was just about gone. John got out of the car and walked up; Makala followed.
“Hey, Pete, busy today?”
“You got that straight, Professor. Figure the stuff is gonna rot. Health inspector won’t let me use the meat anyhow, going this long with no refrigeration, so what the hell, might as well put on a damn good barbecue.”
John smiled. He genuinely liked this guy. Pork barbecue was something John had never really cared for, especially with the spices Pete threw in, but still he’d eat there occasionally just to hang out and chat.
“Professor?” Makala asked.
“Regular brain there,” Pete said. “Professor at the college here, army colonel, too. They were even going to give him a star and make him a general, but he quit….”
Pete’s voice trailed off. Naturally, everyone in town of course knew why John retired early, but Pete was leading into private matters, and a bit embarrassed he stopped.
“All right, Pete,” John said with a smile, breaking the nervous pause. “This lady’s a good friend. So give her double of anything she wants. Ok?”
John started to extend his hand to shake hers and she smiled. “Get it bandaged, John; then we’ll shake.” Sure.
He started to walk back to the car, hesitated, and looked back. She was looking at him and he motioned her to come over. “Look. I guess you’re staying at the Holiday Inn?”
“I guess so.”
“You know how to get back there?”
“Easy enough, turn left at the light and cross the tracks.”
“Well, look, ahh. I don’t want you to take this wrong. You need anything, you walk up this road just about a mile. Turn right on Ridgecrest Drive. I’m number eighteen.”
“Ok, John, maybe I will sometime.”
“Thanks for your advice with the medicine. I better get it home.”
“John?”
“Yeah.”
“You were checking me out when I was leaning over the seat, weren’t you.
He found himself blushing.
“It’s ok. After a high-stress situation, men usually think that way. I wasn’t insulted. I just want you to know it’s normal. It might bother you later, you know, given you should be worried about your girl, memories of your wife, and such.”
Now she blushed slightly.
“That came out awkward. Get home now. I’ll be ok.”
“Thanks, Makala.”
He got into the car and drove off, carefully balancing the bag of ice with one hand, the vials of medication on top.
As he turned the engine off he was delighted to see Jennifer and Pat up in the field, tossing the Frisbee back and forth. Ginger gave him a quick look but then went back to chasing the Frisbee, but old Zach came down, tail wagging in greeting.
Elizabeth was out by the pool, dressed in shorts and T-shirt, sunning herself, Ben sitting beside her, acting as if he was reading a book. The shotgun was leaning against the wall by Ben’s side.
He stood up at the sight of John and came up to the car.
“Could you help me get the ice in, Ben? There’s some cartons of smokes in there as well.”
“Sure, sir.”
Still balancing the one bag with the vials on top, John headed into the house. Jen was in the living room, just standing quietly looking out the window, turning and smiling as he came in.
She didn’t need to be told what he was doing when she saw the CVS bag.
“Get the basement door for me, will you, Jen?”
She opened it. He was suddenly paranoid that somehow he might drop the precious load, and he clutched the bag of ice with one hand to his chest, the other on top of the vials, holding them in place.
Going down to the basement, he looked around for a moment and spotted an old Styrofoam cooler. He laid
