Merritts of Writing 3

Chapter 11

Jam

Before the canisters fell, I always thought of myself as being strong. Tall and muscularly lean, I was built for speed and endurance.

The sight of my sister Angie in the throngs of her first panic attack while we were trapped in the tunnels, reduced me to no more than a weeping baby. I’ll never forget that chilling helpless feeling.

SOME TIME PAST FULL DARKNESS

The smell of a bushberry woke me. The medical tent was relatively quiet. No sounds of crying voices, so the worst of the wounded had either been patched up or were dead.

From the overpowering stench of blood and decay, and the lack of antiseptic, I reckoned that death had taken the majority.

I opened my eyes expecting to see Stevron hooking himself up to me again. I saw my sister Angie instead.

“We don’t have much time,” she said urgently. “Do you think you can walk?”

The sweet smell of mint floated past her lips. If Angie was sucking on a bushberry it meant she’d had another panic attack. My stomach clenched.

Angie was one tough cookie. She could take anything. Mortar attacks, dead and mutilated bodies. Threats of all kinds and now most recently even Prayers attacks. What I knew Angie couldn’t handle was the idea of losing those she loved. Dad, Emmalee, and me. We were Angie’s only weakness. Something was terribly wrong.

“I’ll walk,” I said in as firm a voice as I could muster.

Feeling had returned to my limbs earlier in the day. It had taken hours for the tingling in my fingertips to subside. And still longer for me to have enough strength to wiggle my fingers. When I did, I found my fingers stiff and tight feeling. As were my ankles and toes when I could finally move them too.

It had been a good sign. However, it had taken me almost until evening to be able to spoon a few morsels of food into me.

If Angie needed me to walk. Then walk I would. I’d find a way because nothing, not even excruciating and blinding pain, was going to cause me to give my sister one more moment of concern.

Angie nodded and rolled the bushberry around her teeth. “Dirk will be here in a few moments to help you.”

Before I could even blink, she was gone.

I wet my lips and sucked in a deep breath. I was scared that I would fail her.

Experimentally I moved my arms. Then rotated my shoulders and shruddged a couple of times. So far so good.

Next I tried to roll to my side. That was harder. It took a tremendous amount of effort. I was only able to prop myself up on my elbow.

I could feel icy sweat snaking down my back. More dripped from my brow. My head started to spin wildly from the piercing pain. I gulped and clutched at the edge of the cot that had been my sick bed. I closed my eyes. I was going to throw up.

“Hey, Jam.”

Dirk’s voice was close to my ear. He sat down on the cot and shoved me into a full seated position.

My stomach churned. I clenched my teeth and pressed my lips closed. I felt weak and dizzy. I sucked air through my nose.

Dirk ignored my accelerating breathing. He pulled my right arm up and over his shoulder. Pain shot through me. I gasped.

“Up you get.”

I groaned as Dirk virtually hauled me to my feet. I felt myself swaying. The medical tent swirled before me. I reached for Dirk with my left hand and regretted my actions immediately. A searing pain rocketed through the whole left side of my body. My knees buckled. I almost blacked out.

Dirk didn’t say anything. He grunted as all of my two hundred and thirty pound body fell against his side. I was dead weight now. Dirk shifted me and I sensed rather than felt him lift me back onto my feet.

I dry swallowed. The pain in my head almost split my skull. I exhaled sharply. It didn’t help.

“Twenty steps,” Dirk said. He set me in motion.

My footing was tentative. I took a step. My legs shakily supported my weight.

Dirk started to count. “Nineteen, eighteen, seventeen...”

By the time we reached the opening to the medical tent, it felt like I’d walked a mile. I was soaked in sweat and the pain had engulfed my entire body.

I forgot everything the moment we stepped out into the darkness. The pain, my dry throat, and my fear. Well almost. What I saw made me quake.

There were bodies everywhere. Some lying by makeshift fires, others huddled together while they slept.

It was the sight of so many dead bodies, piled high, that sent a searing pain through my heart. There must have been hundreds, perhaps even a thousand, strewn across the small patch of land where we’d set up our base camp only days earlier.

Dirk manoeuvred me carefully past the dead as quickly as he could without physically carrying me. The stench was stomach turning. Blood, bile, human excrement, and decay. I’ll never forget that smell.

I wanted to close my eyes against the horror of what I saw, only I was too afraid that I’d trip and stumble over someone. Someone lying lifeless and glassy-eyed.

I spotted Carter coming out of the booth. He was hard to see in what little light was emitting from the many fires that were dotted around the camp. I could tell his arms were filled with an array of his precious instruments and equipment. I searched frantically for Emmalee. I couldn’t find her. Nor could I see Angie.

I clutched at Dirk as he steered me toward our biggest vehicle. A small moving truck. I felt my legs, which hadn’t been steady to begin with, start to give out. I slumped heavily against Dirk. Pain ripped through my left side. My head swam and for a moment I think I actually blacked-out.

I felt something jostle me. I swung my head upward and saw the side doors of the truck come into view. They were pushed opened. Donahue and Calvin emerged from inside the vehicle. Angie was close behind. I sucked in a breath of relief.

Donahue saw Dirk and I. He rushed over and quickly bent to grab my legs. In seconds the two of them jogged me that last few feet to the truck.

Em was already sitting on a stack of Carter’s equipment when Dirk and Donahue moved away from me. Ragtop was laying at her feet, his muzzle taped shut. I could hear the dog whining. He crawled along the truck’s metal floor and then stretched out alongside my right leg.

I put a hand out. “Sorry, boy.” I rubbed his wet nose and gave his ears a good scratch. “It’ll just be a little longer.” I hoped I was right.

Carter appeared in the truck’s open door. He nodded to me, then turned to Em.

“Here,” he said to her, “it’s our computer.”

The corner of Em’s upper lip curled. She reached out her hands and Carter quickly handed her the piece of equipment. She immediately ran her hands over the top. “Where’s my notebook?”

Carter sighed. “I didn’t see it, Em. Are you sure you didn’t take it out of the booth?”

“Of course I didn’t take it out of the booth, you lying piece of shit.”

I watched Carter swallow. Saw the flash of pain in his eyes before he turned his head away. His shoulders slumped. “I’ll have another look.” Then he was gone.

“Traitor. Damn traitor.”

“Come on, Em-”

“Don’t start with me,” she snapped and I saw her face contort. “You don’t know what he did.”

I stroked Ragtop’s head. “We all lied to you. We thought it best that you didn’t know about Angie and I. That-”

“This isn’t about you and Angie.”

“Then what?” I asked.

Em shook her head. I could see tears sliding down her cheeks. “You should have shot him on sight. Put a bullet in him three years ago. Bartholomew Shipley doesn’t deserve to live.”

My sister’s words confused me. I didn’t understand. Why was my little sister talking with such vengeance? And what did she mean that Carter didn’t deserve to live?

“Em, what’s going on?”