Desolate The Complete Trilogy

One



Dr. Jake Wilson placed the ultrasound transducer on the tray next to Howard and ran his fingers through his hair. “Okay, did everybody else see what I just saw or am I finally losing it?” He turned to the others in the room.

Dave continued to stare, slackjawed, at the tiny monitor of the ultrasound machine. Emily stood slightly behind Minnie, clutching the woman’s leg and staring at Howard with wide eyes. Ann of all people, was the first to speak.

“Why does this guy have tadpoles swimming around in his gut?” She looked to Emily as if she had the answers.

Wilson shook his head. “I don’t know about tadpoles but they sure look like some sort of larvae or something.”

“But how?” Dave asked. “I know he said he was lost in the jungle for a while, but…”

“Yeah, I wish I knew.” Wilson leaned over and inspected the scar on Howard’s abdomen again. “My only guess is it has to have something to do with this incision. Those…things are pretty close to it.”

Howard moaned and his left hand reached out. Minnie grabbed it and stroked his hair. He fell silent again.

“What I do know,” Wilson continued, “is the human body is not designed to haul around eggs. Not only is it causing him a lot of pain, but assuming these things keep growing they’re going to run out of room. God knew what he was doing when he arranged our organs and there isn’t much extra room for passengers in there.”

“All right then, you have to take ’em out. Right?” Dave asked.

“Take them out? What, like surgery?”

Dave nodded.

Wilson grimaced and looked Dave in the eye. “I’d probably end up killing the poor guy. I’m not a surgical intern, we don’t have an anesthesiologist, no nurses or surgical techs to help me. Do you want me to go on?”

“But you’re still a doctor and his best hope,” Minnie interrupted. “Did you see all de people outside? If we don’t get help, if we’re all dat’s left, you’re probably de only doctor ’round.”

“She’s right, Jake.” Dave put his hand on his shoulder. “You’re going have to learn a lot of stuff on the fly now. It’s only a matter of time before somebody out there comes to you with a heart attack or labor pains. Like Minnie said, you’re his best hope. If you think those things are going to end up killing him, you gotta do something.”

Wilson shrugged and shook his head. “I guess if the ancient Egyptians could figure it out, I can give it a shot.” He stood up and turned off the ultrasound machine. “For now, I could use a smoke.”

“I’m gonna go check on Tre and the truck,” Dave said.

Ann went with him. Minnie and Emily stayed with Howard.

The doors at the end of the corridor slammed open. Colour Sergeant Arscott stepped aside as two men carried in a teenage girl splayed out on a makeshift stretcher. Her face and most of the left side of her body were covered in blood.

“Motorcycle accident across town,” Arscott explained.

Dave and Ann moved out of the way to let them pass and followed Arscott down the hall and into the ER lobby.

“I mentioned your party to Dr. Marshall and he is very interested to meet you,” Arscott said on their way out the doors. The temperature was considerably higher outside in the parking lot but a stiff breeze blew from the harbor, cooling Dave’s sweaty skin. He was glad to be out of the hospital. The whole building reeked of death and seemed to be getting worse by the hour. Wilson and some volunteers had cleaned up the ER area but Dave could only imagine the state of the corridors beyond. Room after room of decaying corpses, rotting food trays, soiled linens, backed up toilets.

“Dr. Marshall, huh? What’s so special about us?” He pulled a grimy bandanna out of his back pocket and wiped his neck. Over Arscott’s shoulder he spotted a man pushing an overflowing shopping cart of colorful T-shirts looted from one of the shops in town. He looked down at the filthy shirt he’d been sporting for over a week and made a mental note to track that man down later for a little business transaction.

“We’ve only accounted for a small number of American’s so far,” the sergeant explained. “I told him you were a soldier and he feels your experience might be helpful.”

“Sorry to disappoint you but I’m not a soldier, I’m a marine. And Ann here,” he put his arm around her shoulder, “is Canadian.”

Arscott pursed his lips. “Nevertheless, the representative would still like a word with you.”

“I’ll go talk to him as soon as I check on my other man and our vehicle.”

A commotion broke out nearby in the parking lot between two woman. One of them started screaming as the other slapped at her and tried to pull a package out of her hands.

“See that you do,” Arscott said before turning away to break up the fight.

Dave scanned the crowd of people and vehicles. “Now where did Tre run off to?”

Ann pointed to the other side of the lot. “I think I see the truck over there.”

Now that Arscott was distracted, Dave pulled his rifle around from his back and inserted one of the magazines. He held it pointed down and headed for the truck. He didn’t like how some of the other survivors were eyeing them and wanted to make it clear he was armed and willing to use it.

They wove their way through the crowd, most of them sitting or lying around, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for authorities to come tell them what to do next, where to go, how to get help. As the day wore on, Dave’s optimism regarding happy endings was evaporating. It wouldn’t take long for food to go bad and become scarce. With all the bodies around, disease would quickly become a problem as well. His group came to the coast in hope of finding greener pastures but Dave was beginning to think they’d be better off up in the hills where it would be secluded and safer.

They approached the truck to find Tre sitting on the tailgate. An older-looking white man stood in front of him. He held on to a brown paper grocery bag with his left hand, a Red Stripe in his right hand, and was talking Tre’s ear off. Tre had a beer of his own but didn’t appear to be engaged in the conversation.

“What’s going on?” Dave asked. He put the AK over his shoulder.

“Yes! Yes! Hello!” The man grinned from ear to ear and rummaged in his bag for another beer. He held it out to Dave. “Gift for you, yes? I give you, you give me, yes?”

Dave glance at Tre, who shrugged his shoulders and took a swig of his beer. Dave took the warm beer and set it down on the tailgate. “I give to you, huh?”

“Yes! Trade for beer. Evens Stevens, yes?” He leered at Ann and smacked his lips. She crossed her arms and hopped up onto the tailgate next to Tre.

Dave handed the beer back. “No even steven. We don’t have anything you want.” The man looked at the beer, confused.

“Ah…” the man rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a crumpled wad of cash. “This for the girl, yes? One time? Ten minutes, a boom boom?”

Tre smacked the man’s hand, sending the useless Jamaican currency flying. “Get cho perverted old wrinkled ass outta here!” He hopped off the truck and gave the man a shove.

Dave gripped the AK but let Tre handle it on his own. The man discarded his broken English and erupted in a guttural slew of cursing in his native tongue. Tre gave him another push and he fell to the pavement with the sound of several Red Stripe bottles breaking in the paper bag. Tre gave him a final kick and the man scrambled to his feet, scurrying away but cursing him the whole time.

“Dis place is crazy, mon. Just like Kingston pretty soon if we don’t get help. You okay, Ann?”

She nodded and gave him a little smile.

“I hear ya, buddy. I don’t think it’s gonna do us much good to hang around here for too long. Guys like that are just going to get worse. No law or government around has a tendency to bring out the worst in people.”

“What’s going on wit cho boy, then?” Tre asked.

Dave brought him up to speed with Howard and the ultrasound. He listened and nodded slightly as he stared at the hospital building.

“F*cked up, mon,” he muttered. “We got him help, now we can move on, right?”

“No,” Ann said. “We’re not going to leave him, are we?”

“We ain’t leaving anybody. We got here as a group and if we leave, it’ll be together.”

Tre raised his hands. “Fine.” He jumped up into the bed of the truck and unrolled one of the sleeping bags from the supplies. He stretched out on it with his hands locked behind his head and shut his eyes.

“Just keep an eye on our stuff,” Dave said. Tre grunted.

He walked back toward the hospital, leaving Tre and Ann behind with the truck. As he got closer to the entrance, Dave noticed a police car slowly weaving through the crowd. People were flocking to it, a symbol of order and assistance they had taken for granted until recently. As they approached the vehicle, however, most of them turned away, looks of disappointment flashing across their faces. Dave saw the driver, obviously not a cop, and understood.

The car stopped and a young Asian woman got out. Two others, a Jamaican woman and a boy, crawled out of the back seats. They looked around the shantytown with dazed expressions. The crowd realized they were just three more survivors in a police car and went back to what they had been doing. Dave saw Sergeant Arscott approach the new arrivals and decided to get closer and eavesdrop.

Arscott motioned to the tables set up near the RV and guided them toward it. The door to the RV opened and a tall black man with short white hair stepped out. Compared to most of the other survivors, who looked like they hadn’t bathed or changed clothes in weeks, Dave included, this man looked like he just stepped out of the shower. He wore a colorful Hawaiian-type shirt and immaculate white pants.

Sergeant Arscott spotted Dave approaching and signaled to him. “Ah, yes. Perfect. You come with us and meet Dr. Marshall.” He pointed to the man on the RV steps surveying the parking lot full of survivors.

Dave turned to the Asian woman as they walked. “Howdy. Where did you folks come from?”

“Falmouth, up the coast. We found the car early this morning on the side of the highway and borrowed it to come here. We saw the big sign on the water tower and here we are.”

Dave found himself surprised she spoke perfect English, no trace of an accent. Since arriving in Jamaica, he had quickly become used to the melting pot of his resort. Before the other guests started getting sick, Dave and his wife chatted with other couples from all over the world. He assumed this Asian woman was from, well, Asia.

He held out his hand. “I’m Dave Penske. Sevierville, Tennessee.”

She took his hand and gave him a firm shake. She tried a smile but knew it looked forced and tired. “Soo Kim, nice to meet you. I’m from San Francisco but I’ve been living in Falmouth for the past year.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and looked up at Dave, squinting in the bright sunlight. “Back home, everything was…normal? Before you came here, I mean?”

“Yep. No way to know for sure, of course. I’m sure you know there’s no way to get in touch. Ever since the power grid and phones went down. Got family back in San Fran?” At her nod, he added. “Sorry, wish I could help.”

Arscott put his hand on Soo Kim’s back and motioned toward the tables. “Give that woman at the table your name, please. We are trying to keep track of everyone who has arrived.” He turned his attention to Dave. “You, come with me.”

Arscott took him over to the man at the RV, who raised his hands in welcome and smiled. “Ah, yes, you must be the American Colour Sergeant Arscott told me about. I am representative Waylon Marshall of the Westmoreland Central.”

Dave shook his outstretched hand. “Dave Penske. Master Sergeant, retired. USMC.”

“Very good. We could use a man like you around here, Sergeant. You know, I spent some time in San Diego years ago and had the pleasure of touring Camp Pendleton. I’ve always been very impressed by your marines.”

“I’d be glad to do what I can to help while we’re here, but I’m not sure me and my people will be sticking around for long.”

Marshall looked surprised. “Surely you don’t think there is a safer place in Jamaica than right here? I know it appears a little chaotic at the moment, but it’s only been several days since we started organizing. I was hoping a man with your skill set would be willing to help the Colour Sergeant maintain peace.”

“I’m flattered, but my skill set these days is drinking beer and getting fat in front of the TV. Like I said, I’ll do what I can to help, but I can’t say for sure if we’ll stay or not. Have you all heard any news from off the island? Anything at all?”

“I’m afraid not, Sergeant. We are all in the dark, so to speak. For some reason, God has spared us from this horrible plague and I try not to dwell on the reason why. For now, I am concentrating on being a servant of the people.”

“Right.” Dave nodded and adjusted the rifle strap over his shoulder. “Listen, if there isn’t anything else, I’m going to go check on my buddy inside.”

“Yes, I heard about your friend.” The smile fell from Marshall’s face. “I hope it isn’t anything too serious. I understand the doctor is young and inexperienced. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help.”

“Thanks.” Dave left Arscott and Marshall at the RV and headed back to the hospital, relieved to get away. Something about the guy didn’t sit quite right with him but he couldn’t put his finger on it. It reminded him of talking to some of the village elders in Afghanistan. They always talked a good game, all smiles and bows of respect. They told the Americans what they wanted to hear, but you never knew if they were the same bastards setting up IEDs or organizing ambushes five minutes after the last Humvee rolled out of town.

Then again, it felt like it was about a hundred and fifty degrees, he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep or meal in days, and one of his new companions turned out to be circus sideshow freak with a stomach full of critters. He wasn’t exactly feeling like the sharpest knife in the drawer. As he opened the door to the ER he was starting to regret not accepting that pervert’s beer.