The Benefactor Page 9

  *****

  In Missoula, John and Lee made their way toward John’s hotel on the north bank of the Clark Fork River. They skirted the heart of the city as much as possible by staying on I-90. They did a right onto Orange Street and followed it to its intersection with Broadway. There Lee spotted someone familiar in hospital scrubs on a mountain bike.

  “Hey, Dr. Rhodes! It’s Lee Skelton here. You cared for my mom …”

  “Yes, I remember. Lee, why aren’t you teaching at the university?” He laughed as he pulled over slowly, dismounted, and shook hands. “Hey, fellas, I’ve got to cut this short. No one is checking on me, but patients at the hospital are depending on the few of us who can get in. I went in to the hospital on the first in daylight on my bike, pulled a 36-hour shift, and went home. It’s grim. No power whatsoever. Backup generators didn’t come on. No emergency lights in the hallways. I’m taking in flashlights and batteries from my house.

  “As expected, we’ve lost many critical patients. You can imagine what it’s like. First we lost patients on temporary pacemakers, intra-aortic balloon pumps, and left ventricular assist devices; then those on ventilators. Those on dialysis will be next. We don’t have suction apparatuses, defibrillators, x-rays, cauterization, or steam sterilization. Nurses are used to having computers to calculate dosages for them. That’s all gone. Jungle medicine, man.” He scoffed, “If you tolerated our hospital food before, you’d hate the cold, unbalanced grub now.” He looked down at the pavement and said, “I gotta go, guys!”

  “Dr. Rhodes,” John said, “We’ll let you go. Thanks for stopping. Pleasure to know you. Thanks for what you’re doing, really!”

  “Good, to see you, Dr. Rhodes,” Lee called out. “Where’s your bike helmet?”

  Dr. Rhodes turned his head as he raced off. “Went the way of tort lawyers on the first!” The cyclist faded away riding toward the hospital.

  “John, he’s a hospitalist. Took care of my mom until she passed three years ago. Great guy. Reminds me there’s still some decency left in this world.”

  John: “We’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: Hard to believe how fragile our civilized world is — was. Can you imagine what will happen when water runs out and sewage backs up? Where pumps are required, water will not be available in the city. Gravity can feed water from towers and tanks only so long for the lucky. At the hospital, a shrinking staff will have more and more to deal with. This was a beautiful little city on the thirty-first. Now look at it!”

  They moved on in tactical formation toward John’s hotel amidst the third-world sights all around them. The glass doors at John’s hotel entrance were wide open. There were no staff members around. They heard clatter from the kitchen area, which they tried to ignore — typical noise in the new chaotic world. Some hotel rooms had kicked-in doors. The halls of the hotel were strewn with clothes and trash. Flashlights in hand, the two went up the stairwell to John’s room on the third floor. The electronic card reader that secured the door had failed to the locked position. They had to kick the door open.

  Inside the room, John asked Lee to triage his possessions for usefulness in the post-EMP world. He had another priority. He found the small hotel lockbox in his closet. He remembered he had put the key in a side pocket of his hangup bag. Mission accomplished: He had the engagement ring for Susan. Sweet Susan.

  John agreed with Lee’s selection of items to take — a pocket knife, a church-key can opener, and the Bible. “Too bad, we can’t take it all,” John sighed, “especially the three-piece silk suit. Susan loves it. I’ll grab up a few more items of clothing, Lee, before we get out of here.”

  “John, if you don’t mind, I left my mountain bike at the university. I kept it in my office. So did a neighbor of mine. Those could make our trip back to the Denton property a lot easier.” It went unsaid that John’s heading to Kitsap, Washington, was now out of the question.

  John nodded, “Next stop, the university!”

  *****

  Lee found the door to the computer sciences building unlocked. The break room was in shambles. The refrigerator had been ransacked. All the supply drawers were empty.

  “Nothing here,” John said.

  Lee leapt up on the sink counter and reached to open a small top cabinet door. He pulled out eight sealed packages of coffee from the top shelf. “Eureka! he shouted. “Gold! These are coming with us even if I have to ditch my blanket.”

  John knew Lee was at least half right. The coffee was now of inestimable value. “You’re my hero!”

  Disappointment waited for the pair down the hall. Lee’s room was pillaged, as was his neighbor’s. No bikes.

  John could see how demoralized Lee was. “Maybe we’ll find some other bikes on campus …”

  Lee cut him off. “I don’t think so. They’re always at a premium, even in good times. That’s why mine was here in my office. I lost another bike before this. I had secured the wheel to an outside rack. A thief left the locked wheel and chain, but took the rest of the bike! That baby ran me over $2000.

  “John, you know, incidents like that seem to fly in the face of the university's producing over 25 Rhodes Scholars. Perhaps the critics are right. Maybe Missoula is where the wind goes whistling through your head …”

  “Maybe we’ll find some bikes off campus on the way back,” John shot back, determined to stay positive.

  “Yeah, maybe we can steal from the looters!” Lee said to be ironic. This somehow lifted his spirit.

  “That’s one way to look at it,” John said, laughing at the conversation. “Reminds me of that old saw: Gotta beat the hoarders before …”

  His words were cut short by the cracking sounds of gunfire. It was getting closer.

  “Follow me,” Lee commanded. They ran down a long hallway. Lee turned his head to the left as he passed the computer facility where he had spent hundreds of hours.

  As the gunshots got closer, the door where John and Lee had entered the building swung open with a bang. They heard the echo of the entrant returning fire from inside the building. In seconds they exited the building at the other end of the hallway. The gunfire continued. They ran to the nearest student dormitory, which was unlocked.

  As they caught their breath inside, Lee explained, “We’ll hang out here until the action dies down. Maybe we can get some water, not use up our supply. By the way, I thought I saw the blinking aqua-white lights of servers out of the corner of my eye when we ran past the computer room. I also thought I saw a uniformed guard inside its doors.”

  “I saw the same. What do you think that means?”

  Lee: “I don’t know. My imagination, or was the power on? And a guard? Let’s check some switches in this building for power.”

  The sporadic gunfire continued from the direction of the computer sciences building. John and Lee drank warm canned colas from an overturned vending machine as they tried various electrical switches. There was no power.

  “Lights in the computer building?” John asked out loud, shaking his head in disbelief.

  Lee answered with a shrug.

  As they were about to leave the dormitory, they heard a high-pitched scream: “Help! Rape! Help!”

  John and Lee ran down the darkened tunnel of a hall, illuminated only by light spilling through occasionally open doors. The continued screams for help caused John to kick in two doors. When he kicked in the third, the sunlight streaming through the windows temporarily blinded him. As his eyes adjusted, he saw a long-haired man wrestling with a petite coed on a dorm bed. He shouted, “Get off her!” His loudness shocked even himself.

  Sinewy John jumped on top of the noncompliant man to pull him off the young lady. When he couldn’t loosen the offender’s clinging arms, he punched the man in the side of head. The rapist reeled and wrestled John to the floor.

  Burly Lee had his rifle aimed at the rolling mass. He couldn’t get a shot. He walked over and put his left foot on the two to stop their motion. He aimed the rifle butt for the rapis
t’s skull and used both arms to drive the stock down like a posthole digger.

  Lee directed the coed, “Get some belts and clothes we can tear up. We’re going to tie this guy up before he comes to.”

  Dazed, John slowly got up. As the coed brought binding items from drawers and the closet, she grabbed the 9 mm from John’s holster and shot her attacker in the heart and the crotch.

  The shots sounded like cannons going off. The small room confined the echoes of the shots. The blasts were deafening.

  John seized the gun from the coed and spoke to her. Instinctively, he knew to shout loudly, “I know you’re in shock. I’m yelling because I can’t hear well now, and I don’t think you can either. Do you have friends here you can stay with?”

  “Yeah,” she said weakly as her adrenaline levels dropped off. John read her lips: “I have a friend upstairs. She and I were stuck here over Christmas. My parents are in the Maldives. She couldn’t afford airfare to Maryland. I came down here to get a nap while she practices guitar.”

  Lee interrupted, “We’d stay with you if we could. We’ve got people waiting on us. Sorry. I’ll walk you up to your friends room. I see you’ve got a flashlight. John, you catch your breath. Back soon!”

  The persistent ringing in John's ears kept him from hearing everything Lee said. He filled in the gaps by reading Lee's body language.

  *****

  John and Lee resumed their tactical formation, making their way south on Highway 93, with their destination the Denton Ranch. Lee led. He turned his head back so the rear guard could hear him. “John, nobody’s messing with us. I think it’s that rifle and hero now behind it! I admire you, bud. Inspired by Dr. Rhodes?”

  “I wish I could say that, Lee. Pure instinct. Hey, could we take a water break?” Without waiting for an answer, John shed his backpack and abruptly plopped down on the shoulder of the road.

  As they unscrewed the caps on plastic water bottles, Lee was shocked at what he saw. “What the hell? Your left hand is dripping blood, John.”

  “It’s nothing. The rapist nicked my forearm with a knife. Cut right through my leather jacket and sweater beneath it. I guess I should get you to wrap it for me. I figured the bleeding would cleanse the wound. Taking my jacket off and pulling up the sweater sleeve.”

  Lee: “I’d call it more of a slash than a nick, buddy. Anyway, funny thing about first aid kits. You carry them for years without using them. It’s tempting to think you don’t need them after that. Ah, this is a good kit. I’m going to wash the wound with bottled water first. This antiseptic is going to hurt!”

  John purposely distracted himself from the ensuing pain by talking, “What you said about first aid kits applies to the lifeline we had from modern society. It gave us food, water, electricity, and safety. We took that it all for granted. I have a new appreciation … . Wow, that does hurt!”

  Hours later, long shadows from the Bitterroot Mountains spilled over the valley as the pair approached the Blue Mountain area. Despite their still-ringing ears, they heard the sound of something coming toward them from the north. It was a restored black 1940 Ford Deluxe Coupe. It wasn’t slowing down. The driver was intent on ignoring them.

  Lee pulled out a red handkerchief and waved his hands. He yelled, “Help! Stop! Injured man!” He hoped to flag the driver down for a ride to Denton. Then he felt relief. If the driver had taken them to Denton, it would have betrayed their stronghold.

  “I wouldn’t stop either,” Lee said. “Must have been shielded from the EMP. And or no fragile electronics to fry. Gotta get me one of those vintage cars. Makes me think some older airplanes might still be able to fly, too.”

  John was eager to add, “You’re probably right. But old cars and planes won’t function long. Most filling station pumps are electrically powered. Refineries can’t make fuel now. Pipelines can’t pump fuel. Trucks can’t bring fuel in. Not to mention, the gasoline will eventually go bad.”

  “Other than that, we saw good news,” Lee laughed. “How’s the arm?”

  “It’s throbbing now. I don’t want to be a wimp, but I think I lost more blood than I thought, Lee.” John looked ashen.

  “John, let’s take a short break now. We’re running out of daylight. Think you can make it to the bison ranch? We’ll break as often as you need to.”

  *****

  Lee hollered at the rancher on horseback. Lee unwrapped John’s good arm around his neck. He eased John to the ground. He recognized the rancher from John’s talking to him before. Lee cautioned himself about being too abrupt. “Turns most people off,” Anne had told him multiple times. Instead, he compared notes with Ted. Lee’s words about the situation at the hospital brought a devastated frown to Ted’s face.

  Ted told of having to shoot at poachers. “I hate firing at them. I feel like I’m shooting at myself. Hell, I’d go where the food is, too. So far, I’ve fired over their heads. They’re actually easier to spot at night. Their flashlights really show up.”

  Lee couldn’t hold back any longer. “Ted, my buddy John lying down over there is really hurting. He saved a young lady today who was being assaulted … ."

  As the two trotted toward John, Ted showed a sense of urgency, “Next time, you might want to lead with that. Now what your friend did, that’s downright admirable. You boys want to spend the night? We’re all sleeping around the fire in the great room. We brought our mattresses there. We can get a couple more mattresses from the guest rooms. I imagine your friend could use a good night’s sleep. Hope you like bison meat.”

  *****

  At sunset in Idaho after a long day’s trek, Cody carefully approached a ranch house. Before he got within 25 feet, the owner greeted him with a rifle.

  Cody put his arms up and shouted, “Hey, mister, my friend and I are making our way east. Looks like snow tonight. We’d like to sleep in your barn if you’ll let us. Tomorrow I’d like to buy two horses from you …”

  “I recognize you,” the rancher shouted back. “You’re that western singer. Wyoming — no, Cody. That’s it!”

  “I am, and I’m pleased to meet you, sir!”

  “Cody, you and your friend over there, come on in and spend the night.”

  “We’d be most grateful.”

  The rancher said, “Cody, what the hell do you think is going on. Did you lose power where you were? I can’t get my damned cell phone to work either. Nothing starts.”

  The rancher continued, “Enough about our troubles, the wife and I would appreciate your serenading us with ‘Rhinestone Cowboy’ after supper. That’s our favorite number.”

  *****

  The redheaded young lady lay down on an old Army cot in a secluded location near her grandfather’s old cabin. No one knew about the secret place. Her deceased granddad had sold the property to a Texas oilman, who occupied the nearby house only in the summer. Her granddad had told no one of the shelter, not even the buyer. It was as if he sensed a time like this would come. She reflected on her day.

  She had left her apartment in Hamilton with all her small backpack could carry: three water bottles, two cans of beans, a change of clothes, a magnesium firestarter, a Leatherman, a spoon, twenty feet of climbing rope, her pistol, and ammo. She had a poncho and sleeping bag on top of the pack, both rolled tight.

  She had planned to present less of a target. Yesterday she had hurriedly chopped off her beautiful long locks of red hair to appear more masculine. When she set out, she had tried to incorporate a slight swagger and worked to avoid characteristic female pelvic rotation. The black watch cap, parka, and loose ski pants had been nice touches. She worried that the backpack made even her masculine image a target, so she took extra precautions. She had avoided encounters with anyone and walked with a purpose. She also zigzagged her path to avoid giving away her destination.

  She had been horrified to see the looted shops and stores throughout the city. No one was going in to work, except a few proprietors and managers hoping to defend their stores. Stalled vehicles
littered the roads and highways. Hamilton was a disaster area.

  After several hours she had arrived at the spot. She found a board to scrape soil and dormant grass away from the heavy metal door of the Cold War fallout shelter. With the flashlight under her left armpit, she used both hands to pull open the door. She had taken the chance of leaving it open to clear out the musty air. The small steep circular ladder, in any case, would slow an intruder. Then standing on the floor of the underground bunker, she had found the lever for the periscoping air and chimney vents and pushed it to the open position.

  In a locker were Army surplus rations and cans of water from several wars. She remembered thinking the supply was enough for only a few days. Fortunately, the underground location provided a year-round 55-degree F. temperature. With her firestarter, she lit some old kindling and stoked the wood-burning stove with branches. She found a canteen cup to melt ice on the small stove. Until dusk, she gathered ice and burnable wood.

  Sitting on an old Army surplus cot she had unfolded, she was weary from the unaccustomed physical activity. Being a young attorney had demanded too much sitting. The hike to her granddad’s old place and new chores took their toll. She was hungry and tired. She ate some cheese and pudding from her backpack in the candlelit hideaway. The many new tasks of the day had kept her emotions in check. Now the shock of change was catching up with her. Her old life, sterile as it was, was preferable to the demanding, thorny present and a looming, worrisome future. She put her head down on a musty pillow. She began to sob.

  January 4

  The five people at the bison ranch woke up at dawn. Andy, the younger son, was outside guarding the herd. There were four inches of new snow on the ground, with more coming.

  In the living room where all slept, Ted went over to check on John. “How's it going, partner? I’m gonna put my hand on your forehead. Yeah, you’re running a fever. 102 degrees, I bet. My mom was a nurse. I’m going to get you some more aspirin. How’s the arm?”