Ravaged Land - A Post-Apocalyptic Novel (23 page)

Ryan came in and I gestured for him to come sit by me. I passed him my water and a protein bar, “I’m so sick of protein bars,” he said as he took an enormous bite.

“Aren’t we all?”

“I want a cheeseburger. Or a sub,” he said nodding towards the graffiti covered sub sign that no longer lit up displaying it’s plentiful menu.

“Oh, I wanted to ask, um, how are you feeling?” I asked nervously, thumbing through the maps doing my best to be nonchalant.

“Fine, why?” he said not making eye contact. I think he was looking at a picture of a sub as he chewed his protein bar pretending it was something else.

“Oh nothing, you seemed to be bothered more by the heat than usual and you’ve been so quiet, more than usual,” I said finally looking at him longer than a quick glance. I noticed his cheeks were splashed with a hint of pink, like the cheeks of a painted doll face. Before he could even answer my hand shot out like a karate chopping temperature taker and I had the back of my hand against his forehead. He was burning up. Dammit. “God, Ryan!”

“Keep your voice down,” he said a little too threatening for my liking.

I glanced at Sienna. She didn’t look up at us and if she was listening in, she was doing an excellent job of making it appear as though she wasn’t.

“You’re sick,” I said under my breath.

“I’ll be OK, I just need something to get the fever down and everything will be fine,” Ryan said scratching his arm. The arm that had the scratch from those rabid poisoned dog-beasts.

“Let me see it.”

“No.”

“Ryan, let me see it so I can help you,” I said, worried about what I’d find under the wrappings. He pulled the bandage up and I was devastated. When Ryan saw the look on my face he quickly covered it.

“See there’s nothing you can do,” Ryan said as my hands slid over my face. I didn’t know if I was going to scream, cry, fall to the ground and just give up or what. It felt like there really wasn’t a point to any of this anymore.

“We’ll go to the bathroom and clean it, I’ll get some peroxide if they have it, and some new bandages. Go to the women’s room and wait. I’ll be there in a second,” I ordered, and he obeyed.

I grabbed what I could as secretly as I could, and I turned right into Dean as I stepped out of my aisle. I had been so preoccupied I didn’t see him turning the corner. “Hey! Careful!” Dean said with a half-smile. Dean also wasn’t himself, but that was easily traced back to what happened with Seth. He was doing the best he could, and it weighed very heavily on him. Mainly the fact that we hadn’t been able to save him and he blamed himself.

“Sorry.”

“Where are you going so fast?” he said looking at me with a raised eyebrow. He was suspicious and for a split second I wanted to tell him, I wanted to confide in someone how scared I was and beg for help but I didn’t. Dean wouldn’t have an answer any more than I did, it wasn’t right of me to want to burden him with it, and Ryan would probably have never forgiven me.

“Restroom, I’ll be right back, don’t worry!” I forced a smile and rushed off worried Ryan would have second thoughts and have us leave without letting me clean his wound.

He was sitting on a sink when I went in, “You think it’s really bad don’t you?” he asked already knowing how bad it was.

“Ryan, I’m not a nurse or a doctor, I have no idea,” I said while my brain was screaming yes it’s bad it’s really, really, really bad!

I took the old bandage off to see the redness around the original wound had spread. It seemed pretty clear to me that Ryan had taken to scratching the wound. A lot. It must have been irritating him in some way and those scratches had torn open more skin. The original scratch now had several neighboring surface scratches that were bloody or oozing pus. And what injury would be complete without a little bit of bubbling at the widest part each wound? I poured water over it slowly until the bubbles slowed. I didn’t find any peroxide, but I did find a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a tube of antibiotic cream and two bottles of a generic spray antiseptic.

I took the bottle of rubbing alcohol, “This is going to burn… a lot,” I said, “But I really think we should do it because I want your wound to stop bubbling.”

“OK,” Ryan said looking at me intently, I thought he’d ask about the bubbling but he didn’t. He must have already known.

“Keep in mind I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Noted.”

“Still want to do it?” I asked not even sure it was a good idea myself. He nodded. “So if you can’t take it anymore, tell me, I’ll rinse it with water.”

“Got it,” and he held his arm out to me over the sink.

I poured the alcohol on his wound, and it bubbled more. He started hitting his leg with his free hand, harder and harder as he tried to cope with the burning pain from the liquid. His veins started popping out and his fingernails dug into his palms. I couldn’t bare to watch him suffer through it any longer so I poured the water over it, two bottles’ worth. After I had rinsed it, it didn’t appear to be bubbling any more. It was still red all around. I don’t think the rubbing alcohol helped with the redness at all, in fact it may have actually made it worse. I sprayed with the antiseptic and then squeezed a generous amount of the cream over the wound instead of applying it with my fingers. I didn’t think it was a good idea to touch it. Lastly, I applied a clean bandage.

His fever hadn’t let up. I gave him two of the fever reducers I found, unfortunately it was a kid’s liquid and I wasn’t sure it would be strong enough to bring down his fever. He took two shots, double the recommended dosage for kids. It was Owen’s turn to drive, thankfully, so Ryan could get some sleep. Maybe that’s all he needed to fight off the infection. We had decided earlier that we were going to drive straight through, only stopping if there wasn’t anyone awake enough to drive. Owen drove while Dean sat in the passenger seat helping me figure out our route with the atlas I’d found. Sienna was bunched up beside me, head against the window sleeping with a little smile on her face. I loved when people forgot where they were and had a smile on their face, like I had when I was with Ryan those few nights before we had to leave our nice little home. Just him and I being there together, safe, well relatively safe, was nice. The thought of it almost made me smile… almost.

Ryan was sprawled out in the backseat having a fitful rest. He held his bad arm over his head and would groan every so often when he’d try to twist into a new position to get comfortable. The SUV wasn’t the best for sleeping.

I was worried about him, very worried, but all we could do was drive on towards this HOME place. I hoped more than anything else that HOME would have help for Ryan.

Chapter nineteen.

Ryan took the night off from taking his turn driving, and slept in the backseat. Owen and Dean didn’t mind since we all knew he needed the rest. I thought the most the others knew was that Ryan wasn’t feeling well, but I didn’t think they knew why.

We stopped at another gas station when the sun crept over the horizon, and filled up the tank. Lucky for us, this gas station was pretty far off the beaten path. So far off that it had full gas tanks and plenty of food and water on the shelves. Best of all, it had a working gas stove in a little kitchen area in the back. It appeared as though it had been used to warm up big batches of soup. Maybe for truck drivers who’d pass through wanting something hot to eat, at least that is what I envisioned.

There wouldn’t be any semi trucks coming through here anymore, so I decided to make a warm breakfast of oatmeal. I had to make it with water but it was still good. Or maybe it wasn’t and we thought it was because it was a hot breakfast, different from the normal toaster pastry. I put a dollop of jam on top and everyone commented on how good it was. If only that’s what it took before all this happened to please people, a warm, mildly OK breakfast. I thought of extravagant breakfasts of Eggs Benedict, cheesy omelets, crispy hash browns and thick cut bacon. If there would have been a pig wandering around at this gas station I’m not sure he would have survived very long. Someone would have been out back butchering him up, and not a single one of us would have complained. Since all this happened I would have bet that all of us had lost at least fifteen pounds. We could all stand to eat some bacon.

Before we left I checked Ryan’s wound again. It was bubbling. I didn’t let the tears that were threatening to fall leak out.

“No rubbing alcohol,” he begged.

“No, not today,” I said even though I wanted to douse it again, I wanted it to sit in a vat of rubbing alcohol until all the poison in there was gone. Instead, I washed it and applied more of the healing gel and passed him two more pills for the fever. After cleaning it I searched the shelves for medicines so I could start a stockpile, but if they carried anything here, it was gone. I’d have to look at the next stop. I wasn’t even sure the medicine was working to reduce the fever, it didn’t seem to be, but I had no way of measuring without a thermometer. He felt hotter each time I felt him. The heat that radiated from him made the air outside seem cool. Today, when I had bandaged him up, I had to use extra gauze on the wound because it was spreading, the redness was larger and the wounds themselves seemed to be getting bigger. Eventually we’d have to tell the others.

I tried to hide it but Ryan could tell by my face or my body language that it wasn’t good. “I don’t think you should drive,” I said, “I’ll take an extra turn. We’ll just say you’re too tired, no one will care.”

“They don’t want you to take an extra turn, you drive too slow,” Ryan smiled at me.

I smiled back trying my best to keep the sadness and worry out of my eyes, “I drive safe.”

“We are the only ones on the road,” he chuckled.

I kissed him on the lips. “Please get better,” I whispered.

“Well OK, but only because you asked so nicely,” he joked. He let out a loose cough, probably still from the smoke. Although it was only Ryan who was still coughing. It was torturous to watch him get worse. The sooner we got to Alaska, the sooner he could quite possibly see a doctor. That’s what I was holding on to. Help may be in our not so distant future.

I told the others I’d drive but Dean laughed. “You’re one turn was more than enough, I’ll drive. That way we can actually get to Alaska in this lifetime.” He was trying to stay upbeat, but he was worried about Ryan too, and he was worried about me worrying about Ryan. He didn’t say as much but I could tell by all the secret looks that came my way when he thought I wouldn’t notice.

Ryan lowered himself onto the backseat again. I sat with him letting him rest his head on my lap while I stroked his hair and stared out the window. He looked pale but peaceful. I told him how I had wished there would have been a pig wandering behind the gas station so I could have served up some bacon with breakfast. He curled his lips into a weak smile before he drifted off into what was, thankfully, a restful sleep.

I watched the world pass by and with each mile I felt Ryan slip further and further into the sickness. Worst of all there wasn’t anything I could do about it but sit here and try to make sure he was comfortable. With how hot he was, there was no such thing as comfortable. At least he wasn’t alone, I was with him, and I wouldn’t leave him, I would do what I could to help him through this. I had to.

* * *

This was our second day in Canada and the further north we drove the more tolerable the temperatures became. It wasn’t 100 plus degrees outside any more. During the daytime my guess was that it was more like upper 80’s or lower 90’s when the sun was out. At night it was actually quite comfortable. That was another thing I noticed more of, clouds. Pretty, white, fluffy clouds floating through the crystal blue sky. Further south, clouds had been much more rare, and when there were some they were thin and gray.

The bad part was the cooler it got outside the hotter Ryan felt under my touch. At the last stop I’d found more medicine and packed it all away. I became a clock watcher and gave him a new dose at precisely the right time. Not allowing it to wear off. At every stop I’d clean his bandage. Even if he didn’t want to leave the SUV I made him at least get out so I could clean the wound without soaking the seats. He had developed noticeable dark circles under his eyes and no matter how much rest he got, they didn’t go away.

Ryan’s wound was twice as big tonight as it had been yesterday morning. Each day it seemed to be getting worse and I didn’t know how much more he would be able to take. I had found a thermometer at the last stop but it hadn’t been very accurate. We had all tested it and everyone got a different reading each time we tried it. His range was always between 103.5 and 105.2, but I had no idea if the 105 really translated to a real 105 reading. Either way, it was clear he had a fever and quite possibly a dangerously high one at that. But I hadn’t needed the thermometer to tell me that.

At the last stop we saw a sign posted on the front door and near the bathrooms. It was another one about HOME. We didn’t learn anything new.

Family - Friends - Community

Come HOME

Fairbanks Alaska

I wondered about a place where people would come this far south to put up signs advertising their wonderful community. Maybe they had planes or helicopters. I couldn’t imagine someone had driven all this way just to put up signs, and I’m sure it wasn’t just this route that had the signs. It seemed like it would be a lot of work and trouble to go to just to catch the eye of a random passerby.