299 Days: The Community (27 page)

Missy smiled. So did Cole. At age five, Missy had roughly the language skill Cole did at age thirteen. Cole always loved the younger kids. He felt at ease around them because they didn’t talk as much as big kids and grownups. He could communicate with them easily, which was such a relief for him.

“OK,” Manda said, “you can help me clean up after breakfast and then we’ll go down to the beach. Sound good, Missy and Cole?”

Both of them nodded.

Paul was happy. “Thanks. Great. I appreciate it. I don’t know what I’m doing today so it’s good to know that Missy is taken care of.”

Grant realized that he had been largely neglecting Paul. He wasn’t on the Team and was, well, way too heavy to do much. Paul had been taking lots of guard duty, but there was only so much night time guard duty a person could do and then try to do things during the day. Besides, Paul had metal fabrication skills that the community could probably use. Grant was determined to put every person to his or her best use.

“Hey, Paul,” Grant said, “come with us to the Grange today. I bet there is something that a metal fabricator could do for us.”

Paul smiled. He had been waiting to hear that for days. “You bet,” he said. “Drew and I worked yesterday on an inventory of the tools and equipment I have. We can bring that list to the Grange.”

Grant felt good. He always did when he could find a way to make a “loser” fit in. Paul was a great guy, a great father. He wasn’t a “loser” in reality, just in his mind. Paul was feeling left out because he was different (overweight) and that made him think of himself as a “loser.” Grant had been there. He knew exactly what it felt like. Like when “loser” Grant was asked onto Squadron 3. Grant’s experience as a “loser” allowed him to see hidden skills in “losers” like Paul so they could be fully integrated into the group. That was how he got the most out of everyone. Being a Forks loser was great training for his future role. As breakfast got rolling, the main topic became Lisa’s new job as the Pierce Point doctor. Drew was very proud of his daughter, so he started off the conversation by asking, “So, Lisa, are you going to be the doctor out here?”

“Yep, looks like it,” she said. She seemed to be neutral on the idea, not enthused but not regretting doing it. “I’m it,” she said. “I just wish I had a real ER out here. I’m not sure how effective we can be without all the stuff I had back at my ER.”

Grant wanted to change the subject a little, toward the positive. “We?” he asked. “Who else will be working with you?”

“Oh, two nurses and an EMT,” Lisa said. “I met them last night at the meeting. The nurses are Cindy and Rory, and the EMT is Tim. Cindy is—well, was I guess—a renal nurse at the Frederickson hospital. Rory was a general nurse there, too. Tim was a fire department EMT in California, but moved up here two months ago when his department folded down there. They ran out of money and laid him off. His sister-in-law lived here so Tim and his wife moved here. He was looking for a job when all this started.”

Well, for a community of a few hundred homes they had a decent medical team. Supplies would be the hard part.

Chip was thinking the same things and asked Lisa, “Do you have any medical supplies out here?”

“Nope. That’s the bad thing,” she said with a frown. This was a very big concern to her. “We have some first aid supplies, but they won’t last long.”

Grant would later privately tell her about the fish antibiotics he secretly got a few years earlier and stored out at the cabin. He wanted to save those for his family, the Team, and the Over Road people. Besides, all of his antibiotics would only last a week or two if all the people in Pierce Point were using them. Might as well give the people close to him the benefits of his planning, although that seemed a little selfish. Grant thought that if he were a perfect Christian, he would give all the antibiotics away. But, he was not a perfect Christian. Far from it.

Lisa, still frowning, continued. “But, we don’t have any extra prescription medications. Most people are running out of theirs and, I suspect, a few already have. We have no anesthesia. We have a little rubbing alcohol to sterilize instruments and wounds, but not much. I don’t have instruments, anyway. We don’t even have a place to do all this, although Rich the sheriff guy said we would probably use the Grange building for the clinic.” Lisa made a “yuck” face. “It’s not exactly the germ-free facility I’m used to.”

Lisa realized she needed everyone to have confidence in their medical care out there. She needed to encourage them. So she added, “But, hey, people have gotten by with much less for several thousand years. We’ll do OK. People just shouldn’t expect all the modern medical wizardry that we have—or had.”

Grant kicked into his role of encourager-in-chief. “Hey, we’re way better off than those people in Frederickson,” he said. “They have a hospital, but it has probably run out of supplies and the doctors and nurses have been working for a week non-stop. If they’re even able to come to work. I bet people have looted their medical supplies, especially the pain killers. So, while we may not have the usual supplies out here, I bet no place has the usual supplies, either.”

Grant thought about all the medical supplies they’d need. They would probably have to buy them on the black market. He was all for taking them by force from the government, but that really meant stealing them from people who needed them. Then again, any black market supplies would have been stolen by someone—probably the government—and wouldn’t be going to regular people, anyway. Is stealing stolen merchandise of the real owners who can’t be located really “stealing”? What if you needed it to save lives? What if others needed it to save lives? Grant would need to think about this more.

Ethics aside, Grant had a political purpose for getting the medical supplies. Having them to offer to a community was much like having a doctor: we, the Patriots, can take care of you. The government can’t. Drew, the former accountant and business executive, asked, “How will a clinic work? There’s no health insurance anymore. How will you and the nurses and EMT get paid?”

“A case of tuna,” Lisa said with a smile and a glance at Grant. “Barter. We won’t turn away anyone, of course, but we’ll ask people to give us what they can. We’ll take money, too, if we can buy anything with that.”

Grant realized medical care would be a thing to give to those in the community who contribute, like the meals for the guards. Contribute labor or supplies to the community and you will get free medical care. Those who don’t contribute must pay for the medical care. No one will be turned away, but the non-contributors will need to pay for it. Another incentive to being a full contributing community member.

This idea of free medical care for those who contributed to the Pierce Point community wasn’t universal health care like the fiasco the former government forced on America. That system covered everyone—well, kind of if you count dropping dead waiting months for life saving treatments that were needed immediately as “coverage.” But it taxed everyone for it. And taxes were taken with the force of law, which was really the force of violence. Don’t pay your taxes and see what happens. It involved search warrants, arrests, and jail.

The Pierce Point system was different. If you donated labor or supplies, you were making a contract of sorts with the community to get free care. It was a fringe benefit for what you were doing for the community. If you chose not to make that agreement with the community, you were on your own. You would be treated, but it would cost you.

Grant loved the political significance of the clinic. The community, led by him and Rich and various committees of people helping, were getting people medical care when none else existed. The community, working the Patriot way of voluntary exchanges instead of government coercion, was getting something done and making people’s lives better. Participate in the Patriot way, and things are better for you. The former government couldn’t come close to providing medical care for Pierce Point residents. But the Patriots could.

Grant thought they needed to get some black market medical supplies. He was thinking of things of value they had to use to buy medical supplies. He thought of Chip and his basement goodies, or they could “liberate” some medical supplies. Grant was warming up to the idea of taking medical supplies by force from the government. The government had stolen from Grant and other taxpayers for decades. Payback time. But he would try to buy them first and take them as a last resort.

Grant wanted to emphasize the point about Lisa and the medical team getting paid. He needed to encourage a semi-reluctant Lisa. “Seriously, this case-of-tuna thing will really help,” Grant said. “Between the Team getting fed at the Grange and Lisa getting food and other supplies for being a doctor, I think we can really stretch our stored food out here. And, when you add in Mark’s and John’s hunting and fishing,” Grant said that to remind those two that they needed to start bringing some food to the table instead of just hanging out with the Team at the Grange all day, “we should do OK. I am encouraged, for the first time in quite a while.”

Everyone was nodding. Maybe this wasn’t the end of the world. Maybe it was just a dark chapter, a low point. Maybe they’d make it.

Grant waited for the outside thought to tell him he was right. Then he realized that the outside thought was only there to encourage him when he needed it. He didn’t need encouragement right now. He could see with his own eyes that things were working out. For now.

Chapter 101

I’m Going to Die

(May 10)

The Over Road crew finished their pancakes and then it was time to go to work. Mary Anne asked Lisa to come with her to see Mrs. Roth. The night before, Rich asked the Team to come down to the gate in the morning and meet the gate guards. Drew was still working on inventorying things, and Eileen was working on food planning. She had also taken on the laundry duties. She hadn’t done much laundry in the past few years with just her and Drew in the house and, in a weird way, she missed it. She used the Morrell’s washer and dryer, and this gave her plenty of time to work with Mary Anne on gardening issues. They would sit in Mary Anne’s house in between loads of laundry and talk about food and gardening. Although not as glitzy as gunfighting, their work was invaluable.

Manda was watching Cole, and now Missy. Paul did guard duty and was going to start on metal fabrication. John and Mark would hunt and fish. Tammy had her day job at the power company and was getting lots of gas for that, which was a big plus. Out at Pierce Point, there was an order and even a rhythm; a new “normal.” It didn’t take long for hardworking people to figure out new things they needed to do.

On the short walk over to her house, Mary Anne told Lisa about all the canning supplies Mrs. Roth had donated.

They knocked, but there was no answer. They were worried something had happened, so they opened the unlocked door. They found Mrs. Roth in her “comfortable chair” in the living room.

“Sorry,” Mrs. Roth said. “I was too weak to answer. Forgive me.”

“Of course,” Mary Anne said. “I have good news. This is Dr. Matson. She can look at you.”

Lisa asked, “Mrs. Roth, are you OK?”

Mrs. Roth knew that it was time to tell her secret. It didn’t matter at this point, anyway. “Well, I have something called myasthenia gravis. It’s rare. Have you heard of it?”

Lisa had. It was very, very rare. It was when the body’s immune system interfered with the nerves controlling the voluntary muscles. It made it difficult to move and caused extreme fatigue. It even made it difficult to breathe because the chest muscles are weakened. Lisa thought she remembered that there was no known cure, but she hadn’t read about it since medical school over twenty years ago.

“Are you on any medications for it, Mrs. Roth?” Lisa asked.

“I take Mestinon which has the brand name of Pyridostigmine,” Mrs. Roth said. “I take a small pill every three hours and one big time-release one in the morning and at bedtime. I also take Cyclosporine and Cellcept. They’re immune system drugs. Do you know about myasthenia gravis?”

“Yes, a little,” Lisa said. She knew that Mrs. Roth needed to take her medications to live. “How much of them do you have?” Lisa asked.

“Oh,” Mrs. Roth said. “I’ve been out of them for a few days. I’m going to die,” she said with a slight smile.

“What?” Mary Anne said, shocked. “You’re out? You need to get a refill.”

“No, I don’t,” Mrs. Roth said calmly. “My son comes once a week and brings me refills. He is stuck in Seattle. Can’t get onto I-5. He said the pharmacy is out of most of my medicines, anyway. He called a few days ago all worried about me. He’s a good boy. I told him not to worry. I told him I had lots of extra medicine because someone out here is a pharmacist and got me several months of supply, which wasn’t true. I hate to tell a white lie to my own son, but he has a family and needs to be worrying about them instead of me.”

Mrs. Roth took a breath. It was hard. She continued, “No, I’ll be fine. I don’t want to be a bother. And, besides, I knew on May Day when everything started to fall apart that this would happen. I’ve been living with the knowledge that if there was a disaster and the stores closed…it would be time for me to go.”

Mrs. Roth took another difficult breath and smiled. “It’s all right. Really, it is. I know where I’m going and…” She looked up, “It’s so, so much better there than down here.” She was beaming.

“Really, don’t worry about me,” she said. Please don’t,” she said as if the thought of anyone worrying about her caused her pain.

“Now,” Mrs. Roth said, perking up, “tell me about the canning you’re getting done and tell me about the soldiers. I remember when we had soldiers living in houses near us in Tacoma, right by Ft. Lewis, during the war,” she said referring to World War II. “They seemed so old to me because I was just a girl, but I saw pictures of them later and they looked so young.”

Lisa and Mary Anne didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t worth coming up with a plan to get the medicine. There probably wasn’t a dose of any of her medicines in the entire state, and it would be impossible to get to where the medicine was without a military helicopter. Mrs. Roth knew she was going to die and she was OK with it. There was nothing to do. It happens to everyone, eventually.