“Ok, thanks. Down and to the right there are rows of shelving. In the back, go through the small door and you’ll find items that need to be kept cooler. I think juices are in the second aisle,” she says on a tired sigh.
“Um, ok. We’ll find it just fine. You go and put your feet up somewhere,” John says. He’s not sure they’ll find anything. Sounds like a maze down there.
But the men flip on the light, still a wonder to John, and descend. This is clearly the older part of the home as the walls are rough cut stone. The ceiling is unfinished and he can see the upstairs exposed floor joists above. The timbers are hand-hewn and grooved from a master craftsman’s blade and much thicker than what they use now to build homes. When they get to the ground floor, which is uneven hand-poured cement, they are astonished at what they find. The area is massive. The back wall has been knocked out, and the new add-on that houses the bedrooms of Hannah and the grandparents has a modern style basement under it. But they hook a right into the older section. The ceilings are slightly lower, which for poor Kelly at six five is unbearable. His stoop is almost comical. Though, for John at six one, it’s no picnic, either. Rows and rows of metal and wood shelving units take up the large space and each one is crammed full of items. It’s like a bulk goods store dumped its contents in the McClane basement. There are canned goods, non-perishable food items like dried pastas and bags of dried beans, crackers, toiletries like toilet paper, shampoo, soap and feminine products and supplies for just about anything they’d need like batteries, pencils, paper, flashlights and more stuff than John can even take in.
“Looks like the doc knew this shit was coming,’’ Kelly comments.
“Yeah, man. This is insane. You could survive for like, I don’t know, two years off of this stuff alone,” John returns as he surveys a shelf full of home-canned green beans. “They’ve been busy. That’s for sure.”
They continue on until they come to the door Sue told them about. She wasn’t joking; it’s small, not quite six feet tall and covered in faded, white paint. They both duck to go through it. Both men are again surprised at the length and depth of the next room. It’s also filled with more food items. But this room contains wooden crates of potatoes, carrots, boxes of canned meats on yet more shelving, even oranges. John stumbles and looks down. The lighting isn’t as bright, but he can see that the floor is just dirt, not concrete like the other rooms. It’s also markedly colder in this room. Crossing to the second aisle, they find containers of juices and other liquids and jars of homemade jams. His mouth waters at the site of those brightly colored jars and their sweet contents. He quickly grabs a container of juice blend. The label says it’s orange-pineapple-mango, but it’s probably just mostly sugar water and maybe apple juice. Just what the doc has ordered.
They close the door and make their way back out of the basement. On the stairs, Kelly turns to him and says, “How do they have electricity you figure?”
“I was thinking the same thing. I don’t know. Different power grid, maybe? It’s definitely weird, though. We sure didn’t see any lights anywhere else in the county on the way in. Lights went out on the base over three weeks ago. I know some people are using oil lamps and generators but not here. I haven’t heard a generator running, unless the doc has it in a shed where it won’t be as loud. Thought we were the last people with electric on out at the base. No lights anywhere else but the few that were still going on the interstate.” He’d been wondering this, the thought nagging at the back of his mind. And now the stocked-up basement to boot? Is the doc some sort of survivalist or something?
“Guess we’ll find out eventually,” Kelly reflects as they head straight back to Hannah’s bedroom. John chooses not to tell Kelly about the conversation with Reagan as to whether they might be asked to leave. No sense in ruining his friend’s forty-eight hour leave. He wears the same fatigues, but they’ve been laundered and Kelly no longer smells like a caveman which should help with building relations with the family.
Everyone is gone with the exception of the doc and Reagan. She’s dressed again in another of Hannah’s white gowns, and John hopes for Hannah’s sake that this one doesn’t get ruined like the other. Her sister isn’t a giant, but on Reagan the dress floats almost to her ankles.
The grandmother re-appears with a biscuit and takes the bottle of juice from John. He resumes sitting in the corner and listens while the family argues more. They don’t want her to do another transfusion, but she’s insisting. The grandmother is practically force feeding Reagan who in turn is visibly trying her hardest not to curse. Obviously, the grandmother is the cursing police around here. Good to know, though he rarely swears, something for which he got teased in the Army where the “F” word was used in all its glory and in every part of speech imaginable and even a few made up parts of speech.
“Honey on your biscuit? Honey for my honey,” her grandmother dotes in a loving, cheerful voice. She tries to smooth a hand over Reagan’s hair, but the girl flinches.
“Grams,” she says with weary caution and leans away from her grandmother.
“I know, sweetie. I know,” her grandmother admits sadly. All John knows is that the girl is a freak, maybe even a psycho. But she might be a good shot, so he keeps his opinions to himself. And she
is
trying to help Derek.
“Alright, alright, I’m ready. Let’s start again. Grams try to keep Sue outta here,” she demands. “You know how she is around blood and shi... stuff.”
“I will, dear. You just keep your strength up and if Grandpa says that’s enough, then that’s enough. Ya’ hear?” the old woman says and gently touches the end of Reagan’s nose. She winces as if her grandmother has burned her and pulls back. Is she so cold that she would flinch from her own family’s touch? The thought disturbs John more than he has the time to dissect.
When the door is once again closed, leaving just the four of them, Doc rearranges the room with John’s help. Reagan is placed on the other side of the bed in a soft chair as the new IV’s are put in. They aren’t twenty minutes into it when John notices Reagan’s head is lolling side to side against the back of her chair.
“Doc?” he whispers.
“I see her. She’s alright, just tired. She hasn’t slept for almost two days straight now. She doesn’t sleep too good on most nights anymore, so this is just adding to it,” he explains. He crosses the room, hanging his stethoscope around his neck as he goes.
“Are you sure?” John asks worried.
“She’s fine,” Doc answers again. He’s taking her pulse. “Here, John, come and sit over here beside her. Make sure she doesn’t fall off this chair and hurt herself.”
“Yes, sir.” John’s to his feet in an instant and in the oak, ladder-back chair beside her. Her grandfather props her head with a down-filled pillow and takes a minute to listen to her heart through his stethoscope.
“Just fine. We’ll have to watch for signs of dehydration from her. Weak heartbeat, fever, all sorts of things. With you in here assisting me it’ll go much easier. You’d make a good nurse,” he quips. John chuckles. The doc is a tall, thin man, a bit hunched, but he moves fluidly when he’s in his med zone.
“I don’t know about that. I’m not exactly the scholarly type, sir. Just a grunt’s all,” he reminds the good doctor.
“Well, you got yourself and my son-in-law home safe and for that I’m grateful, son. Can’t say I want to think about how Susan woulda’ taken it had Derek been killed. She’s not been in the best of shape since this all started. Worrying all night, not sleeping and eating near enough. She needs more rest. This isn’t good for her and the baby. It’s gonna be hard enough delivering the baby here at the farm. Glad I’ll have Reagan with me, though,” the doc explains and pats Reagan’s arm. She even flinches in her half comatose state.
A comfortable silence settles between the two men. Reagan stirs every once in a while, but doesn’t seem as lucid as she was earlier. She is also beginning to look markedly paler. She’s starting to resemble a vampire. There are dark circles under her eyes, her cheeks are pale and even her lips seem whiter. They wait another full hour all the while Doc is checking and re-checking his patients. John knows it’s been over twenty-four hours since the doc has slept. For an older man, he sure does have the stamina of someone half his age. It probably comes from being a doctor and keeping strange hours.
“His pulse is up finally, much better than earlier even. He’s also a little warmer,” Doc informs John from Derek’s bedside. They both blow out a long breath collectively as if they’d both been holding it in for hours.
“She feels cold to the touch, Doc, and she’s looking real pale, sir,” John says as he places his hand against the side of Reagan’s unscarred cheek. He only feels it’s safe to do this because she is out cold. She doesn’t move an inch.
“Hm, not surprising. She’s still fine, though. You have to remember that she’s losing blood. But I think I’ll give it another ten minutes and then we’ll stop. Derek’s heartbeat is rising steadily, and his blood pressure isn’t as low. It’s a good sign. As long as no infection sets in, and I don’t think it will, then I’d say your brother is gonna pull through. You can go and deliver the good news when we take out the IV’s. Susan can come in then and only then.” John notices that their grandfather doesn’t call any of them by shortened or nicknames. He’s a very formal man. Although he does seem to have a penitent for swearing. Wonder where his crazy granddaughter got it?
He’s quiet again for now but still moving about the room and organizing his instruments on the metal tray, tossing the soiled bandages from Reagan’s arm wound.
“How did she get that scar on her face, sir?” John asks solemnly. There’s no point in saying of whom he is speaking. They both know.
Doc doesn’t turn around to face John. He simply continues on with his task, and John doesn’t believe he’s going to answer until he says: “She was still at the university when it started. Wouldn’t come home, though I tried to urge her to leave. She’s a stubborn girl, that one. Then the tsunami’s hit hard and well, you know the rest of that part of it. I don’t think she’d want me to tell you, but just know that it wasn’t easy for her to get home when it all... came apart.”
“Was she shot?” John prompts. Doc snorts through his nose and shakes his head.
“I only wish, son. I only wish it would’ve been that simple,” he says, the despair clear in his voice. He frowns at John and makes eye contact for the first time since he started. His eyes cloud over as if remembering and he shudders. He adds quietly, “All my years of practicing medicine, I’ve never seen anything like that.”
John knows it’s all the old man is going to tell him. Either he doesn’t feel it is right to reveal it or it’s too painful, so John doesn’t push.
“I think that’s enough. Let’s get these two bandaged up, and then we’ll get Reagan up to her room.” Doc takes out the IV’s, John at his side at the ready with small pieces of cotton and white medical tape.
For the first time in a while he allows himself to look at Derek. It’s amazing, but he actually feels like his brother is going to pull through this. His color is much better, and he even moans once in his sleep.
The doc sends John to get Sue and when he returns with her, she starts whimpering softly.
“You’re such a baby,” Reagan says sleepily. She has one eye open long enough to be snide and then drifts off again. Sue just laughs at her and it’s such a good, happy sound that the doc and grandmother join in.
“Maybe you and Kelly can carry that one upstairs,” Doc says and points a thumb toward Reagan.
“No, sir. I can do it myself. If I can carry
that
one six miles I think I can get her upstairs,” John teases and thumbs at Derek. They all laugh again.
“You’re probably right. John, I need you to stay with her. I want you take her pulse in an hour. If it’s low like we talked about earlier, then come and get me. Now listen, son, if she would start to fever, you come and get me. She’s chilled, so she’s going to need warmed up. But that’s not a fever. I’ll come up throughout the night to check in on her. She’s just a bit cold from the blood loss. Maryanne will get you whatever you need,” Doc conveys to him.
At his questioning look, their grandmother steps forward.
“That would be me, dear. Just call me Grams. We haven’t been formally introduced yet with all the hubbub,” she says as she shakes her head at the doc. “You just follow me.”
Ever so gently, John hooks one arm under Reagan’s legs and one around her back. Easily, he hefts her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. She’s out cold. He knows this for sure, or she’d be protesting or scratching out his eyes.
“If the chill persists, then get into bed with her and hold her close. Your body heat will warm her better than anything else can,” Doc informs him. John’s eyes almost bug out of his head.
“I trust you with my granddaughter, John. Besides, I’ve got plenty of firepower,” he warns, but his weary, blue eyes still have a twinkle.
“Sir, you don’t have to worry about me. I owe your daughter a debt that I don’t think I could pay back in two lifetimes. She saved my brother’s life,” John expresses solemnly. His eyes well with tears, so he turns to follow Grams. “Besides, she’d shoot me first herself anyways,” he mumbles as he leaves the room. He hears Sue and the doc laugh.
Luckily for him, Reagan doesn’t weigh too much because her grandma certainly doesn’t walk too fast. He’d expected her to weigh more than she does, but she can’t weigh a whole lot more than Kelly’s sister, Em, who is only twelve. Of course, Reagan can’t be much more than five feet tall, either. Her grandmother is quite the talker, and talking seems to be more her forte. She even pauses from time to time to tell him things. She’s giving him a full hundred year history of the farm, the house, the land, the animals, the prior owners. She doesn’t even consider that he’s still holding her passed out granddaughter in his arms. But if he can carry Derek and even Kelly, then this small woman’s not much of a burden. The farm’s history is more than he cares to take in at the moment. But it is a welcome distraction from the heaviness of current events.