Aurora Quest

The smoke still filtered from the chimney, and the blank windows still reflected the dull sky and the few ragged clouds that raced across it.

Jim looked at the house, just over a hundred yards away from him. It was built of red brick, probably around the latter half of the previous century. There were white frame additions, including the second story, under a shingled roof. It wasn’t well insulated, as virtually all of the lying snow had melted off it. There was a veranda to the right, with a swing seat rusting away on it. A large pond, frozen over, dusted with white, and the double doors of a big storm cellar were visible on the left of the building.

“There,” said Jocelyn, pointing at the front door, which was slowly opening.

Nanci dropped to one knee, bringing the Krieghoff up to her shoulder.

“It’s Jeanne,” said Mac. “And she’s waving to us. Shouting something.”

The woman’s voice, weakened by the easterly wind, barely reached the listeners. But it was loud enough for them to catch what she was saying.

“All right… It’s all right…. Come on down…. It’s all all right.”

COLE DALTON SHOWED Nanci and Carrie his own stores of drugs. “Got some of most everything,” he said. “Didn’t help when my wife died, and then…” His voice broke.

“How did you get all this stuff?” asked Nanci. “Raid the local pharmacy?”

“Right on,” he replied. “Earthblood started, and I saw where it was leading. Ignored the tarryhooting bullshit from our leaders. Knew that martial law and panic and evacuation were on the way. I got the dozer and blocked off the road up here. Went into Weitchpec, cross-country in the pickup. Me and Maria,” he added, patting the butt of his Remington Model 700 Mountain rifle, chambered for a murderous Magnum round.

“Raided the pharmacy?”

“Yeah, Carrie. That’s the name, isn’t it? Carrie? Yeah. Didn’t go like I planned. Knew the druggist. Name of Dee, Dee Vassan. Sweetest, nicest man. Tried to stop me. Said what I was doing wasn’t right and had I thought about all the other folks. So I shot him. One round through the throat. Thing I regret most about… And took everything I could carry. Prescription and nonprescription stuff. What was it you was looking for, Carrie? For little Sukie?”

“Chloromycetin,” said Carrie. “Chloramphenicol. You got these jars and boxes and bottles in any kind of order?”

“Alphabetical,” he replied. “Didn’t know enough to do them any other way.”

Carrie was already raking her eyes along the packed shelves, reading off names to herself, lips moving silently. “Here,” she said. “Chloromycetin succinate.” She took it down and peered closely at it in the poorly lit room. “Suitable for injections. You got syringes, Dalton?”

“Yeah. Along the end.”

“And there’s chloramphenicol. Says the dose is by mouth, up to three grams a day, divided into three or four. Sukie’s real little, Nanci.”

“Yeah, and she’s also real ill. Chloramphenicol is a dangerous drug. We’ll give her a quarter dose of the injection first, to get the health ball rolling. Then the oral medicine after, and we’ll try to adjust the dose based on her weight. Come on, Carrie, let’s go.”

Once the first injection had been given to the unconscious Sukie, in the soft flesh of her thigh, Carrie and Nanci worked together to prepare a course of treatment. Jim had mentioned to them the caution about intense personal hygiene, so they’d also taken a half-dozen containers of antiseptic soap.

Cole Dalton was tall and lean, with long hair and a straggling beard that showed a rich seam of silver. He wore faded overalls in blue denim, and unlaced working boots. Jim guessed that he was around fifty.

“Want to know how old I am, Captain?” He and Jim were together in the kitchen, cooking up a mess of canned vegetables and dried pork in a large orange casserole.

“Around the middle forties, I’d guess. But I’m not too good at it.”

“Sure as shit not,” he said, followed by the now-familiar hyena laugh. The laugh was repeated so often that Jim was already doubting the man’s bedrock sanity. “I’m thirty-two next February. See myself in the mirror. Look like my old man did when he was around fifty. Doesn’t do much for you when you lose all your loved ones, Captain. Know what I mean?”

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *