Remnants of the Day- The Lost Years Page 6

  Over the next hour the nurses, doctors and support staff made a list. The people without running cars placed their names next to their neighbors.

  Security had a meeting in their tiny office and decided where to place their small number of staff. Without cameras and radios keeping the campus secured involved being visible. A guard stood at each of the two doorways. Backup would involve hollering for help and hoping someone came.

  A few hours later the lights came on. The generators were only hooked up to select lights and red outlets instead of the usual white ones most computers and non essential equipment were plugged into. One of the maintenance men came to the ER and told the staff to unplug all unnecessary equipment to help save on fuel. Their next question was where to find more diesel fuel.

  Tom noted there were some diesel vehicles that no longer ran on the top of the ramp and the parking lots. Two delivery trucks were also stranded at the loading dock unable to start after the electronics had been fried.

  “I don’t know how much extra that will give us but at the moment we have three days worth in storage,” the maintenance man said.

  “You get desperate enough you could get the cooking oil from the kitchen. It will run on that,” Tom said.

  “How do you know all of this?” the maintenance man asked.

  “It’s a hobby of mine.”

  A Few hours later a gunshot victim was brought in on foot. The man was dragged by his friends to the front door. A stretcher was brought out and the friends were told to remain outside. The ER was functioning like a war zone triage center. Hartman wanted to order blood right away but they were told the refrigeration in the blood bank was down and the entire supply was lost when the temperature had risen to room temperature. Staff removed the man’s clothes and applied pressure to the bullet holes in his abdomen and ribcage. Even with the loss of blood the man thrashed around on the stretcher. After giving him a injection of Fentanyl he calmed down.

  Hartman had one of the patient care assistants run upstairs to tell the staff to prep a room. Some of the bullets had gone straight through. There was one still inside. An IV bag was started and a tube was inserted into his ribcage to release the air building up from a collapsed lung. They would try to save his life but the odds were against him.

  The man was transferred to the OR when a runner came down and told the staff it was ready. They rode the elevator up and the man underwent exploratory surgery to find the fragments of the bullet. This would not be the last man brought in with a gunshot wound.

  In the trauma room Hartman and the nurses stood at the counter trying to do all of their charting by hand. The floor was littered with trash, clothes, blood, urine, and hair. Tom walked in and started sweeping the solid waste into a pile.

  “You don’t have to do that now,” one of the nurses said as she went back to her charting.

  “This won’t be the last one we see. The friends outside said he was shot while trying to stop his neighbors from stealing his food. It’s been a week and the stores are out of supplies. People are getting desperate. Expect a lot more of this,” Tom continued sweeping and the staff thought about their long night ahead.

  The next morning saw the same staff working. They took turns napping in some of the doctor sleep rooms. None of the relief staff showed up for work.

  Fatima thought about her boys often. Her hair was a mess and it bothered her that her phone no longer worked. She was able to get a few hours of sleep in but the gunshots and stab wounds continued to come in. One woman was even brought in carried in a wheelbarrow. The more crazy things she saw the more she worried about her boys. She trusted they were safe.

  An old SUV drove past security and pulled up to the door. A man stepped out and ran to the door. Some of the staff recognized him as the husband of a nurse that was working.

  “We have to go,” he told his wife.

  “I can’t just leave. People need me,” she said looking as her two kids waited in the backseat.

  “The other hospital was over run by looters last night. They broke in, stole any meds they could carry and killed some of the staff,” he said to her.

  Hartman set his hand on her shoulder.

  “It’s ok, we all understand. Go,” he said to her.

  She didn’t bother going in to grab her things she sat in the passenger seat and couldn’t look at the people outside watching as they pulled away.

  “We need to get some protection if we are going to continue this,” Tom said as the SUV drove away.

  “What are you thinking?” Hartman asked.

  “I’m going to get some supplies from my house. I’m only a mile away. If I’m not back in an hour don’t wait for me.”

  Tom drove out of the ramp and little over an hour later he returned parking in front of the ER. When he stepped out of the car he no longer had his scrubs on but instead wore a long coat and black shirt and pants. He popped the trunk open and carried a duffle bag from the back seat.

  Fatima watched food carried into the ER from the car. The sound of glass breaking in the waiting room drew some attention as a security guard pulled candy bars and snack foods from the vending machine.

  Some of the old radios kept in storage were carried to the security office. The chargers were plugged in to see if the batteries would work. The dust on the radios showed how long they were kept in the basement.

  Fatima had difficulty accepting what was happening. She watched knives being handed to the staff and didn’t take one. She was a doctor. Her job was to help the wounded, not create more.

  Her stomach growled. Fatima realized that she hadn’t eaten anything most of the day. She went back to the break room and looked for some of the food that had been brought in. Sitting at the table was Tom, the cleaning guy, holding a older rifle with a wooden stock and fore grip. She stepped back looking at the gun. Tom must have seen the look of surprise or shock on her face.

  “Sorry,” he said leaning the rifle against the wall.

  “This is all new to me,” she said.

  “I understand.”

  Fatima saw the food spread out on the table. She spotted a candy bar that she liked but rarely bought to stay healthy.

  “You should try something with nutrition that won’t give you a sugar high,” Tom suggested.

  She didn’t say anything and slid the candy bar in her pocket.

  “Can I ask you something?” Tom said.

  He had her attention.

  “When I’m on the ramp across the street, can you bring me food sometime?”

  “Why me?” she asked.

  “It would be nice to have a reminder what I’m fighting for,” he said.

  She didn’t know what he meant by that. Was he referring to the ER as a whole? Was it his coworkers? Could he be referring to what he considered to be good people? Maybe it was his way of telling her he had a crush on her?

  She nodded her head and left the room. She had agreed to bring him food not seeing any reason to refuse the simple request.

  Tom took the tunnel across the street and found his spot on the top floor over looking the ER entrance. Fatima went back to work, eating her candy bar at the desk, only realizing after it was gone she had forgotten to taste it.

  The hours flew by as patients came in with various wounds. What surprised the staff was the people coming to ask where they could get food.

  The candy bar was no longer holding her over. She went to Hartman and told him she was taking a few minutes to get food.

  Going in the break room she grabbed another candy bar and placed it in her pocket. Then she grabbed a bag of beef jerky. The thought of her last conversation in the break room reminded her of her agreement. She needed to get out of the ER, even for a few minutes would work. She grabbed a few other items and stuffed them in her pocket. Grabbing a flashlight she took the stairs to the basement and walked the tunnel to the parking ramp across the street.

  In the darkness of the tunnel she found the stairwell to the ramp and opened the
steel door. Stepping inside she heard something upstairs. The scuttle of steps, or the claws of an animal. She wasn’t sure. He assumed that rodents were able to get in the ramp all the time. She remembered the few times she was surprised by at raccoon in the ramp at night. Her shoes clicked as she ascended the stairs. She didn’t want to count the four flights she would do to reach the top.

  Reaching the first floor she looked out the window and didn’t realize how dark it was outside. She looked up and the stars were filling the sky. They were brighter and more vibrant than normal. The cloudy haze of the milky way had returned. She had never seen it before.

  The creak of a door behind her caught her attention and she thought for a second it was Tom. Her body was slammed against the glass and the smell of hard liquor filled her nose. Rough hands grabbed her arms keeping her on the wall.

  “Anybody with you?” A male voice said in her ear.

  “No,” she said.

  “Upstairs,” he ordered.

  Releasing her arms the man stepped back pointing a gun at her.

  “Do anything but what I tell you and I’ll kill you,” the man said.

  She stayed quiet and walked up the stairs. She thought about her boys. The world wasn’t what it once was. Security didn’t work like it had before. She shouldn’t have a gun pointed at her. This should not be happening. She knew once this was over, if she survived, she needed to get to her boys.

  I should have left long ago.

  Reaching the top floor the man told her to open the door. She stepped through into the short hallway. The man grabbed her from behind and followed her to the exit. Outside he placed the end of the barrel to her head.

  “Where are you?” the man said.

  Fatima didn’t know who he was referring to. Could it be Tom?

  A flash came from the opposite side of the ramp and the man dropped down almost taking Fatima with him. She stood there, arms up around her face.

  A dark figure walked towards her holding a rifle. She looked down and saw the man with a hole in his face and part of his skull missing in the back. Tom kicked the gun away from the body.

  Fatima looked at Tom, eyes full of tears. Her hands shook as she pulled the beef jerky from her pocket. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and put his arm around her. He grabbed the radio and called for someone to come check on Fatima. He was told they were going home, everyone.

  People flooded into the ramp and walked to their cars. Dr. Hartman walked up to Fatima and checked her heart rate and shined a light in her eyes.

  “I need to find my boys,” she said.

  “I think she’ll be fine.” Hartman said to Tom.

  “Do you want me to go with you?” Tom asked her as she pulled her car keys out.

  “No, I’ll be fine.”

  As she got in her car, Tom had a bad feeling about her leaving. The other cars lined up and moved down the ramp.

  Tom’s collection of weapons sat by the door. The ramp was empty except for him and the body that still lay on the concrete. He picked up his bag and placed it in his car. It was time to go home.

  Chapter 8

  “I told you that the blu ray player doesn’t work,” the middle aged woman repeated at the customer service desk for the third time. “It’s still under warranty. I just bought it last week.”

  “Mam, I can’t authorize the exchange with out my manager’s approval,” the clerk repeated. The woman didn’t like his pimpled face and lack of backbone when it came to doing his job.

  “Why didn’t I just speak to him from the beginning if everything has to go through him anyway. Why do you work here except to waste my time?” It was a rhetorical question.

  The clerk rolled his eyes and went to the manager’s office. Tapping on the glass door he peaked his head in.

  “Sir, there is a lady out here that would like to talk to you.”

  “What does she want?” the manager asked while looking at his computer screen. He told the staff he needed to work on payroll and scheduling, but instead there was a Youtube video playing with a man driving a golf cart through an above ground pool.

  “She wants a refund on a blu ray player she bought last week. I told her about the exchange policy.”

  The manager leaned back in the chair and peaked through the door at the woman standing behind the counter.

  “Well, I’m waiting,” she hollered while starring into the office.

  “Shit,” the manager said sitting up and walking out the door.

  “How can I help you, mam?” the manager said.

  “You know how you can help me. That young man told you why I’m here. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

  “Mam, I understand why you are upset,” the manager said.

  “Then give me my money,” she said starring him in the eyes.

  “Mam, I’m sure that if you just picked out one of the other blu ray players you will find this is a great investment.”

  “Investment? I bought one last week. It doesn’t work. I drive back here and your employees waste my time with your exchange policy. I don’t want to invest time coming back here next week to return another broken blu ray player. I want my money.”

  “If you look on the board behind me, we only exchange for items of the same model or items of the same value.”

  “I don’t care, give me my money.”

  “If you don’t care, than I don’t care,” the manager said.

  “What did you just say?” the middle aged woman asked.

  “You knew the policy when you bought it. If you don’t like it, go somewhere else,” the manager stated.

  “What is your name?”

  “Collins.”

  The woman left the store hollering about the staff being thieves. She knocked some writable CDs off a shelf and tipped over a rack with cables displayed on it. Collins looked at the blu ray player sitting on the counter. He took it in the office and hooked it up to a television. It worked. He laughed and realized she didn’t hook it up correctly and left it behind. He put it back in the box and took it home that night.

  That Sunday Collins went to church and sat in the front row as he always did. He put his check in the offering basket, face up with his 15% showing to all of the congregation. The Reverend made sure to give a nod and wink to Collins as the check dropped in. The Reverend would use Collins as an example of a God fearing man from time to time.

  After the service the Reverend stood in the foyer discussing updating the electronics in the church. Collins donated a brand new blu ray player and offered to hook it up when the sound system and other changes had been made.

  Later that week Collins sat in his office watching videos on Youtube. The pimple faced employee rapped his knuckles on the door.

  “What?” Collins said turning around.

  “You gotta see this,” the clerk said.

  Collins turned around and saw the desk empty.

  “I’m busy,” a cat was on the screen riding on a Rumba robot vacuum cleaner.

  “Boss, you gotta see this.”

  “God damn it,” Collins sprung from the chair and came out of the office.

  On the television screens a mushroom cloud showed with news anchors talking about the nuclear event.

  “Very nice you found a shitty movie. I watched this as a kid. What is it Red Dawn or After the Day?” Collins said not amused.

  “It’s not a movie. It’s real,” the clerk said handing Collins the remote.

  He switched the channels from Fox News to CNN. The same image showed up. Then he switched it to the local channel and found the same image.

  “Ok guys, cut the shit. Who is playing with the feed?” Collins started moving up the channels and noticed the voices changed and the channel icon would change. “What the hell.”

  “Guess we aren’t paying taxes anymore,” one of the stock boys said.

  “What do we do boss?” the clerk said.

  “Nothing has changed. Just go back to work,” Collins said.

 
One of the stock boys took off his work shirt and placed his badge on the counter walking out. The others followed orders as they were told. Collins took the badge and smiled since he didn’t have to pay out the last check. He wasn’t given a two week notice. For the next two days nobody came into the store. On day three the employees didn’t show up except for Collins who stood behind the counter by himself. A week after what everyone was calling the Day, the power went out and Collins finally realized he was out of a job.

  He closed the shop. He took the petty cash out of the safe and locked all of the doors. He also grabbed the small .38 revolver that was kept in the safe. When he tried to drive home his small Honda Civic wouldn’t start. He wasn’t a fit man. He wasn’t over weight but the doctor called him “skinny fat” with his lower body fat and high cholesterol and blood pressure. He stepped out of the car and looked around. He lived thirty miles away in a subdivision for up and coming professionals. He decided to walk to his church two miles away after he found his cell phone wasn’t working either. He had three thousand dollars in cash on him and the gun. As he walked down the street he noticed everyone else was stranded like him. People avoided one another like the person passing by was responsible for the event or they stopped and talked about with happened. Nobody knew anything but they were already starting rumors.

  Sweat dripped off his forehead as he made his way down the street. An hour later he stood outside the church. He found the door locked and went to the rectory. Instead of the Reverend at the desk, Collins found his daughter, Isabel. Young, blonde, curvaceous, busty, and beautiful she was everything Collins wanted in a one night stand.

  “Hi,” he said walking in through the door. He secretly hoped the Reverend wasn’t at the church seeing Isabel standing there.

  “Can I help you?” she said.

  He contemplated saying something about his personal needs but instead asked for her father.

  “He’ll be right back. He’s checking on the fuse box,” she said going through papers in the candle light.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.