Through the Storm(30)

Conner hurried over as the man cradled her head in his lap.

“We’ll rest. You’ll be better.” The man tearfully stroked her shoulder-length hair. “Please be okay.”

“I’m Conner. Is she okay?”

He shook his head.

“May I check her pulse?”

He nodded. “Are you a doctor?” The words were both a question and a plea.

“No.” Conner shook his head. “I know first aid.” He checked both her neck and wrist without finding a pulse.

“Do you know CPR?” the old man asked.

“Yes.”

For an exhausting fifteen minutes, Conner performed chest compressions while the man breathed for the woman, but she never responded.

The old man slumped back and clutched her hand. “She won’t be waking up. You should stop. Her heart was weak. Let her rest.”

Conner wiped sweat from his forehead. “Ah, if we do ….”

The old man nodded and looked to the sky. “She’s in Your hands now, Lord. Take good care of her.” He kissed her cheek.

For several minutes, Conner sat in silence, trying to think of what to do or say. He had seen more death in the last four days than in all his life. This had been the most peaceful, but he didn’t think that would be the right thing to say.

“Your name’s Conner, right? Mine is Arthur. Thank you for your help.”

Conner nodded, uncertain what help he had provided.

“We have family in Seattle, a son, a couple of grandchildren and great-grandchildren. We were trying to reach them.”

“I left my little brother alone the day before the sun storm. Now I’m trying to get back home to Riverbank.”

Arthur nodded but said nothing.

Conner felt a need to talk and so continued his story of meeting Madison, passing through Ellensburg, and then losing her after crashing his bike.

Arthur caressed Martha’s hand. “We married right out of high school and had our first boy a year later.” Tears rolled down his cheeks. “I enlisted in the marines and served for eight years. Then we moved back here and have been together more than sixty years.”

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell my dad I wanted to join the marines. I guess that doesn’t matter anymore.”

He smiled at Conner. “You’re a good young man, and you would have made a great marine. Your parents raised you right. No matter how ugly this world gets, remember the things they taught you.”

Again they sat in silence.

“I can’t leave her here alone.”

“What choice do you have? We don’t have the tools to bury her.”

“There’s always a choice, young man. Help me get her out of the road.”

When they had moved her to a shady spot nearby, Conner asked, “What are you going to do now?”

“I’m going to stay with Martha.”

“No one will come. No police, no ambulance.”

“I’m eighty-five. In this new world where nothing works, how long do you think I’d live?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think you do.” He pulled a plastic bag with half a dozen pill bottles from the luggage. “These were Martha’s. I guess now they’re mine.” He smiled at Conner. “Thank you for your help. I’m staying with my wife.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t have been more help.” Conner lingered, feeling torn between staying to help and continuing his own odyssey home.

After a moment, Arthur turned to Conner. “You should find that young lady you were talking about.”

They shook hands and Conner left, still trying to decide if he should have stayed and tried harder to convince Arthur to go on to Seattle. Would Arthur have been able to survive the trip?

For the rest of the day, Conner continued his trek into the mountains. As the sun slid below a nearby peak, a church bell echoed through the growing darkness. Hungry and thirsty, he entered the small town of Cle Elum.

*

Rural Lewis County, Washington, Wednesday, September 7th

Drake slid the rifle from his shoulder and held it in his hands while trying to decide what to do. He stepped close to a back window. “I don’t recognize either of them.”

Both were older than his father; one was overweight, the other skinny by comparison. They both wore faded jeans, heavy boots, and several days of salt-and-pepper stubble. If he had seen them along the road, he would have thought they were homeless.

The two pumped water from the well and drank, stared at the horses, chickens and goats, and walked among the apple trees still burdened with fruit.

“What are we going to do?” Ashley whispered.

“I don’t know.” Drake didn’t want to confront them; they hadn’t done any harm. “For now let’s just watch.”

While Drake gazed out the window, Gruff pranced back and forth, sniffing the air. With a low growl, he scurried across the kitchen and out the doggy door.

The man closest to the house, the skinny one, pulled a pistol from his pocket.

Drake ran out the door with his rifle ready. “Don’t shoot my dog! Gruff, come!”

Gruff stopped midway between Drake and the man.

Skinny pointed his weapon but didn’t fire.

“Gruff, come.” Drake stepped forward.