EMP Antediluvian Courage : Book 3 Page 10

  “Sounds good. If there are only two guards, shouldn’t be that difficult to take them out. If things are good, you might take them out before the bus arrives,” Clay said.

  “Then what?” Earl asked.

  “We get those people out of there and take them either back to the farm or divide them up and get them to their families. I figure the bus can take them to wherever they need to go. Once that’s done, we’ll head to the Bluemont Bed and Breakfast and see about blowing that up. I’d rather not, only because of the surrounding homes. If there aren’t too many there, we can take them out with our weapons,” Harry said.

  “I can talk ta Boney, see ’bout puttin’ someone reliable to watch the place and keep track of their comin’ and goin’,” Wilber said, coming out of the house.

  “That would really help. Do you think you and Boney can take out a couple more of Yates’s people?” Harry asked.

  “Sure can. It’d be our pleasure. Got a couple of them peckerwoods in mind, pardon ladies,” Wilber said and Harry grinned in the dark. He heard Marilyn’s soft snigger. He elbowed her softly and she nudged him back, now giggling softly.

  Katie came back out and sat beside Clay, who lifted his quilt. She slid under it.

  “Alan okay?” Willene asked.

  “Yes. I checked his wound, and it’s doing good. No temp yet, so that is good as well.”

  “How soon kin he come home?” Wilber asked.

  “I want him here for at least another three days. I want to make sure there are no surprises. By then, he should be able to get up and move around,” Katie answered, her voice kind.

  Gunfire resounded in the distance. It was rare these days. Harry figured someone was hunting – he hoped an animal, not human.

  “Wonder if they’s huntin’ deer?” Boggy echoed his thoughts.

  “Might be. Maybe a deer made the mistake of going into their garden,” Clay said.

  “Just hope it wasn’t someone hurtin’ someone else,” Earl said quietly. There were grunts of acknowledgment around.

  “Violence is slowing down in the mountains, I think. Most are dead or have taken care of those who were violent. There aren’t any more people, that I can tell, coming from Lexington. Unless they can find a vehicle and enough gas,” Harry said. He pulled on his pipe; the damp air was causing the pipe to die.

  “Yeah. Hopefully we won’t have to worry about anyone coming from that way. I really do hate to think what it has been like in that city, or any other cities, for that matter,” Willene said.

  “I don’t even want to imagine what it was like in Chicago, or New York. I’m sure there must be disease, like typhoid, cholera, dysentery, and God knows what else,” Marilyn said.

  “No, I’m sure life in the big cities killed thousands, if not millions,” Katie said.

  “We’ve had our own struggles here, and heartbreak and tragedies, but I think elsewhere it has been on a massive scale and, because it is so big, I think that it more than likely spread, like a cancer, to the smaller towns near the edges of those big cities,” Harry said thoughtfully.

  “There is something to be said about living remotely,” Clay said, and grunts of agreement sounded around the group.

  ֍

  Vern felt a shiver go through his body. He’d lost track of time, but it seemed the cold was seeping into the basement more and more. It was dark, and he could smell himself and Morty. He was keenly aware of the vicissitude of his situation. He had no more control of it than he did his bowels. Morty was quiet for now, thank God. The man didn’t know when to shut up.

  He didn’t know if it was today or yesterday, but Morty had gone ape-shit. Vern figured the man had finally come to the conclusion he was going nowhere fast. He’d started screaming and cursing, the sound of it hurting Vern’s ears. He’d tried to tell the idiot to quiet down, that it would only piss Bella May off. That didn’t help. When the door above opened up and the bright light of the solar lantern shown down, Morty renewed his hysterical rant. Vern had been impressed with his companion’s vocabulary.

  Bella May came down the steps, lantern and a pair of poultry sheers in hand. Vern had felt a wave of cold filter through his body, as it almost invariably meant no good was about to happen. He’d tried to warn Morty, but the man was pure up stupid. Hobo hadn’t been bright, but he knew when to keep his mouth shut. He watched, his body shivering with both cold and dread. Bella May walked over to Vern, and he tried to shrink back.

  “Did you tell him to shut up, Vern?” she asked, her voice mild. But he could see the glitter of anger in their green depths.

  “Yeah, I tried. I don’t think he is as bright as Hobo was,” he’d said.

  Bella May snorted at that and turned to go over to the still-ranting Morty. She stood in front of the man while he continued to scream and spit expletives at the old woman. Even now, Vern shook his head at the memory. Bella May had stood there, listening to the man. Morty’s face was red and both his hands missing. Bella May had cut them both off the first day.

  “So you don’t get the idea of breaking free, next I’ll be taking your feet. You’re a big boy, and I can’t take the chance of you getting out of here,” she’d said. Then she’d smiled and proceeded to cut the man’s hands off. Morty hadn’t passed out, and had screamed the whole time. Vern’s head had pounded for hours after. He’d gotten used to the quiet for so long that, now, noises above a normal conversation gave him headaches.

  Soon Morty quieted down, as Bella May said nothing, just standing in front of him with her lantern and shears. Morty was panting heavily and snarling.

  “Are you finished throwing your temper tantrum, young man?” she’d asked him calmly.

  Morty reared his head back as far as he could and opened his mouth to start screaming again. It was so fast, Vern wasn’t sure he saw it correctly. Bella May brought the poultry sheers up and shot them into Morty’s mouth and pulled them out just as quick. Instead of cursing, Morty had screamed in pain, blood flying out of his mouth, and then the blood was running down his chin and onto his chest.

  It was like a horrific waterfall of blood that gushed forth from his mouth. His eyes were wild with fear and disbelief. He’d then stuck his tongue out, and Vern could see that she’d cut the tip of his tongue down the middle, forking it. Vern had felt lightheaded at the sight.

  “Now, if I hear another word from you, I’ll cut the rest of it off. Be glad I only clipped you, young man,” Bella May had said, and, with a satisfied nod, she’d left the men alone in the dark.

  Morty had moaned and cried for several hours after that but had eventually quieted down. He’d fallen asleep later, still shivering from the cold and the speed of her vengeance.

  Vern heard the door open from above. He’d been thinking about it all night or all day, he wasn’t sure, but he needed to tell her. He waited, and hoped as she came down the steps. He could smell something cooking from above as it wafted down the steps behind her.

  When she got down to the landing, he could see that she was going to harvest some meat. He looked over to Morty, who looked like he’d bathed in a slaughter house. A shiver ran through him.

  “Bella May?” Vern called softly. He watched as she turned to him.

  “Yes Vern?”

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “Sure, Vern. What’s on your mind?”

  “Bella May, I want you to go ahead and kill me. Like you did for Hobo. I’m ready to die. I’m so tired of living, I don’t even want you to set me free. Just let me go, Bella May. Please. You’ll have plenty of me to can and use. Please, please just kill me,” he asked, his voice soft. All the fight had left him a long time ago.

  He looked into her green eyes, and he actually saw kindness there. He almost wanted to cry, and he hoped she would kill him.

  “All right, Vern. Since you asked so nicely, I’ll do it. And it won’t hurt, Vern, I promise.”

  “I know. I saw it didn’t hurt Hobo. Thanks, Bella May, really. Thank you.”


  He watched as she went over and set her things on the table. Morty was watching her, and Vern could see the abject fear in the man’s eyes. Vern knew that fear very well. He’d worn it like an overtight coat, and was tired of it.

  Vern was ready to die and looked forward to it. He didn’t know what was on the other side, but it sure as hell had to be better than this. He was tired of being cold, being in pain, being in the dark. He knew he was on the precipice of madness, and he didn’t want to go over it like Hobo had.

  Bella May walked back over with her scalpel. She pulled out the bucket from beneath, and he could smell his own waste. But he didn’t look down into it. He didn’t want that to be the last thing he saw. He turned his face away from Bella May, giving her clear access to his neck. He felt the swift cut of the scalpel, and it didn’t hurt. It almost felt like a nick from his razor when he shaved.

  “Thanks, Bella May. It didn’t hurt,” he said. His eyes closed as he felt, with each heartbeat, the blood jetting from his neck. A soft smile curved his mouth. Breathing was becoming harder, but he didn’t mind. Then his eyes shot open and he laughed.

  “Well hello, Hobo, what the hell are you doing here?” Then his eyes closed slowly, and his head fell to his chest.

  He was dead.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Mary sat up in bed. Her back pain had grown worse over the last few hours. It was early morning and she didn’t want to disturb Jutta. The poor woman worked so hard, between taking care of her own family and taking care of Mary. She could see the dim light outside and the room was cold around her. Soft snores emanated from the other bed; the girls were sound asleep. Mary leaned forward and placed her hands on her back. She pushed in deep.

  Then she felt a contraction, and her heart skipped a beat. Warm liquid leaked between her thighs. Hand trembling, she felt between her legs and swiped a finger, then looked at it in the muted light. She couldn’t see anything and let her breath out. It wasn’t blood. She shifted her hips and more fluid came out.

  “My water’s broken,” she whispered softly. It’s too soon, her mind cried. She got up from her bed and quietly made her way to Jutta’s room. The warm liquid kept sliding down her thighs. She tapped lightly on the door, her hand shaking badly. Her lips trembled, and warm tears slid down her cheeks.

  The door opened and Jutta’s face, which quickly changed from sleepy to worried appeared. “Is everything okay, Mary?”

  “I think my water’s broke. It’s too soon, Jutta.” Her voice cracked, and a sob slipped through her lips.

  Jutta pulled her into an embrace, the strong arms encircling her. “Does the baby still move?”

  “Yes, though he has slowed down. My back is hurting too,” Mary said softly, her face buried in Jutta’s neck.

  “That is labor. We can’t stop this, now that the water has broken. But it is good the baby moves. Go back to bed, I’ll be in there soon. I want to go down stairs and get things ready. Don’t worry. You’re eight months, right?”

  Mary pulled back and looked into Jutta’s face, and nodded. She tried to smile but could not. Jutta patted her back and pushed her toward her room. She went back and got under the quilts. The room wasn’t freezing, but it wasn’t overly warm either. She pulled the quilts up to her chin and shook with fear. She hoped the baby would be okay. There was no hospital or emergency room.

  There would be no incubator, no medicine for her child. She knew she was being foolish, but she wished David were there to hold her hand. He made her feel better, calm and safe. She knew it was absurd, since there was nothing he could do to help.

  Jutta came in a few minutes later with an armload of towels and sheets, and placed them at the bottom of Mary’s bed. Walking over to her daughters, she shook them awake. As she murmured softly to the girls, they looked over to Mary with wide, frightened eyes. Then they both nodded, got up, and left the room. Mary could hear them going downstairs.

  “They’re going to make sure we have what we need. If you want, pull up your gown. I’ll put these old sheets over and under you,” Jutta said as she helped shift and move the linens around. She then placed several towels under Mary. Pulling the quilts back up, she tucked Mary back into bed. Because it was cold, Jutta rubbed her hands together quickly and blew on them.

  “I’m going to feel around on your stomach. I’m sorry that my hands are cold.” Lifting the quilts, she slid her hands beneath. Mary sucked in her breath as Jutta placed her chilled hands on Mary’s distended abdomen, but her hands soon warmed, and Mary relaxed.

  Both women felt the baby move beneath Jutta’s hands, and Jutta grinned up at Mary. “I don’t think we have to worry. The baby will be small, but I think he’ll be healthy. You’ve been here well over a month, and we’ve been feeding the hell out of you.” She grinned.

  Mary grinned back, feeling a little better. She felt the woman’s hands push and prod. The baby kicked back, and once more they smiled.

  “You’ve dropped, for sure. And it feels like the baby has already headed down into the birth canal. It maybe a few hours, or more. We’ll time the contractions when they are stronger and closer together. Right now, it is a waiting game. Try to get some sleep. I’m going to go down and get a few things ready. Let me know if you see any blood,” Jutta said, patting Mary on the knee.

  Mary watched as Jutta left and shut the door behind her. Mary shifted, leaned over the bed and pulled out a box that had been placed there a few weeks ago. She and Jutta had gone through some old baby clothing. She set the box up on the bed beside her and opened it.

  She pulled out a receiving blanket, a blue one. Her hand smoothed over the soft material. She next pulled out several cloth diapers, with duckling diaper pins attached. Then she pulled out a soft blue smock with a drawstring at the bottom. It was small, and she held the small garment to her and wept, fear and hope warring within her.

  ֍

  Jutta sat in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee. Her hands trembled. She’d delivered plenty of goats, colts, and other animals, but she’d never delivered a human baby. She had attended several births, but had not delivered, though her mother and grandmother had. She’d of course had her own children, but it was different on the other side of that equation. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

  “You okay, Momma?” Milly asked.

  “Yes. I’m just scared and nervous. Nature will take care of most of the baby’s birth, but if there’s an emergency, there’s not much I can do. I’ve set out my herbs and started some water to steep teas if I need them. But still, I’d feel better if I had a doctor here,” Jutta said with brutal honesty.

  “Momma, you know you can do this. You take such good care of us, and you’ve delivered hundreds of farm animals over the years,” Milly said, putting her arms around her mother.

  Jutta’s eyes teared up. When had her daughter become a woman? When had she grown up? She leaned back and looked into her daughter’s blueberry eyes. There was sharp intelligence there, and a calmness. She wrapped her arm around her daughter and drew her into her lap, as she’d done so many years before. Cradling Milly, she kissed her bright head.

  “I know you’re right, honey. Thank you. Okay, let’s get breakfast for everyone, and then get things ready for Mary. Hopefully it will be a smooth birth.”

  Jutta dug around in her dried herbs for blue cohosh and witch hazel. Those would be for postpartum bleeding. She didn’t expect much, or rather she hoped for none, but one never knew. She’d rather have it ready and not need it, than need it and not have it ready. She had sterilized small scissors, needles, and thread. She wrapped these in clean gauze, ready for use. She took down a small bottle of mineral oil, in case she needed that to help ease the baby’s head out of the canal. She didn’t think she would, since the baby was early.

  Then she watched as her children and husband came down for breakfast. She sent Milly up to check on Mary.

  “Is she ready to have that baby then?” Gerhard asked his wife as he took in all her preparations. H
e kissed her on the cheek, and she felt his hand on her ample rump, patting it gently.

  “Yes, her water’s broken. We can’t stop the baby from coming, and I think he’ll be okay. She’s only about five or six weeks from her delivery date. He’ll be small, but we’ve fed her up this last month or so.”

  “I know you’ll get that babe safely here. I’ll make sure the boys get anything you need. Just give a shout if you need me,” he said, and sat down at the table to eat his breakfast. Milly had made pancakes, hash browns, fried eggs, and fresh milk. Seth had already been out to milk the cows an hour earlier.

  Once her things were assembled on her tray, Jutta went back up into the bedroom and lit a hurricane lantern. She then opened the curtains, letting the morning light in. Mary was dozing. Good. She’ll need her strength, Jutta thought.

  She left and went downstairs to eat her own breakfast. She saw that the children were cleaning up the breakfast dishes, and she smiled. She never had to tell them to do chores. They were a good bunch of kids and she was proud of them.

  When the power had gone out, there hadn’t been a whole lot that had changed. They’d grown up working hard: doing chores, taking care of the animals, taking care of each other. They all worked in the garden, and the boys with their father in the fields.

  Though they no longer went to school, in the evening they sat working on assignments she’d put together. She didn’t want ignorant children, even if the world had gone to hell. They had an extensive library, thanks to her mother and grandmother, who’d known the value in education and learning. There were also various books on nursing and biology.

  Thinking hard, Jutta went to the office and pulled one of them down. Flipping through it, she found the section on childbirth and post-partum after care.

  She’d delivered many babies, animal babies, but again, she reminded herself, nature had a big hand in it all. She was only there to assist.

  Milly came into the home office and she looked up. “Mary says the contractions are getting harder and closer together.”