all god's orphans

“Wait here.” Brian told Carla as he headed into yet another hospital. It was more out of desperation at this point. He hadn’t found a hospital with anything in it since the start of this whole nightmare. Daniel was getting worse. Everyday he looked and sounded weaker. It was a stretch to imagine his insulin lasting two weeks, let alone three like he said it would. Brian had taken Carla out with him on another foraging run just so she wouldn’t have to watch her son die. She nodded her head as Brian headed into the hospital.

The lights were off on the first floor as he entered through the emergency room. He could detect a faintly sweet smell, the scent of death as he had recently learned. These places were filled with it, especially after the generators had failed. Patients had been abandoned in their beds in many cases. He avoided going past the morgue where the smell of decay was overpowering. He had seen so many dead bodies and he was determined that Daniel would not be one of them.

He stopped for a moment and listened. There was nothing but the rustle of wind outside. It would be dark soon and he didn’t want to be here when night came on. He knew that he could just turn around and leave now. That the odds were against him finding anything useful here, but he wanted to be able to say that he had never given up hope, so he pressed on. This hospital, like almost all of them, had its own dispensary. With few exceptions, he had found these ransacked. To have any chance of finding insulin, he would have to go further in.

Consulting the map, he found a likely place to check. There were two ways to get there. One led past the maternity ward and the other one went through the cardiac ward. He opted for the maternity path since he had found, much to his relief, that these sections had all been empty. He didn’t think he could handle seeing a dead baby.

He kept his rifle in his hands as he made his way to the back of the hospital, but there was nothing here to threaten him. He reached the hallway that led past the nursery where new parents and grandparents could see their new additions through the glass. He took one step into the hallway and froze. Something wasn’t right. The door to the room where the babies would have been was open and swaying slightly from the draft that ran through the entire building. He could smell death here. He swallowed and tried to keep his eyes from looking to the right, but he knew that if he walked past it, he would have to see. There was no avoiding it.

Taking one small step forward, he came into view of the infant’s nursery. The large glass pane to his right revealed a room of bassinets. He swallowed hard and kept his eyes forward. All of his concentration was focused on not looking, but when a sudden scrape leapt up from the silence, he turned without thinking. To his everlasting relief, all of the cribs were empty, but there was a blood trail on the floor near the back. Streaks of red led away to a desk that was partially concealed from his view by the row of cribs. He took another step and leaned just far enough to get a glimpse. Holding his breath, his eyes moved along the trail of red. Something under the desk moved, scaring the shit out of him. He saw something inhuman reach from beneath the chair and it was so out of place that it took him a second to realize it was a deer’s hoof and hind legs.

Relieved, he stepped into the nursery, the entrance affording him an unobstructed view of the wounded animal. It had been attacked, likely by hungry dogs, and run in here to hide. How it had gotten up to this floor was a mystery, but it was clear that this was where it was going to die. A gash opened up in its rear flank and he could see it was struggling to breathe. The deer caught sight of Brian and had no strength left to fight. In fact, it seemed relieved that the end would come soon. Brian knelt beside the creature and put a hand gently on its flank. All resistance seemed to leave the animal as it sighed in resignation and put its head back down on the tiles, closing its eyes. Brian stepped back and prepared to fire. He couldn’t leave this poor animal suffering. Chambering a round, he took careful aim at the head. The deer’s large eyes fixed on his own. There was an understanding there. It was something he had not seen in many other living creatures since this whole travesty began. This animal knew. Brian’s dad had not. Neither had Daniel’s mother, but this wild creature possessed an understanding of the world.

“I’m sorry.” Brian said softly as the deer shut its eyes. He readied his shot and as his finger tightened slowly around the trigger, he heard the sound of a door being slammed open. Quickly he ducked into a back room and hid. Voices were approaching.

“How do you know he went this way?” He heard a voice asked.

“I don’t ‘know’. I said I think he went this way.” Replied another voice. “What is that smell?” Brian could hear them sniffing the air.

“Dead babies, probably.” Answered a third voice.

“Jesus, what an asshole.” The second voice answered. “Wait, what is that back there.” Brian heard their heavy footfalls enter the nursery and approach the desk where the deer lay dying.

“Holy shit!” Said dead baby guy. “It’s a fucking deer! And it’s still alive!”

“Should we shoot it?” Asked one of them, but the leader ignored him. Something had caught his eye and he was stealthily sliding towards the back room where Brian had gone.

“What is it?” Asked dead baby guy way too loudly.

“Shh.” Hissed the leader. He raised his weapon and slid around the corner. The space opened up onto a darkened hall. Rectangles of light spilled across the floor and illuminated a small patch around the doorway, but how far the hall went in either direction was impossible to see. The other two moved towards him.

“What is it?” One of them asked. Brian could see them clearly. The one leading the pack was tall and lean and probably in his mid-twenties. The other two were slightly older and significantly fatter. All of them wore camouflage uniforms and carried M-4 carbines. The leader relaxed.

“Nothing.” He finally said. “I thought I saw something but it’s nothing.” They all headed back to the deer. A single shot killed it, but the volume of the gun’s report beat on their eardrums like a hammer.

“Jesus!” One of them seemed almost in tears. After a moment, one of them asked, “Does anyone know how to field dress a deer?” The other two shook their heads. “We’ll just take it back to base. I’m sure someone there knows how to do it.” They sat on the desks and pulled out snacks from one of the many pockets on their uniform. One of the fat guys twisted open a Mt. Dew, and the hiss of it called to Brian like a siren who also sells heroin. He watched them through his scope.

“I don’t want to put that thing in my car.” The leader said. “It’ll stink for months.”

“We’ll just get another car.” Said Mt. Dew guy. “There’s a pretty sweet truck in the parking lot down there.” With that, he took a long pull from his bottle of Dew, which then exploded in his hand as a single bullet tore through its bottom half. The other two dove for cover immediately taking shelter behind desks. Mt. Dew’s brain was frozen for a moment, but his friends quickly yanked him down.

“Stay away from that truck!” Brian shouted, the desperation making his voice vibrate. The leader of the trio checked himself and his fellows. They were all fine, except for the one covered in delicious Mt. Dew.

“Easy, partner.” Called the leader. “We’re not here to take anyone’s property. We thought it was abandoned. Keep the truck.” Brian said nothing. “Listen, I get it. Times are tough. People are dying. You’re in a hospital. I’m guessing you’re looking for medicine? We’ve got plenty back at base.” The leader stood up, peering into the shadows.

“You’re with the army?” Brian stepped forward, his rifle aimed away from them.

“That’s right.” Replied the leader. “We’re out of AGO November. It’s an operations base not far from here. We’re always looking for new hands. Times are tough, am I right? We’ve got food. Medicine. Fuel. Safety in numbers.”

“I just have to join the army, right?” Brian had heard this pitch before.

“You’ll be helping re-build your country.” Brian looked around at the state of the hospital. Papers were everywhere. Many of the windows were already broken. Furniture was overturned.

“That should be easy.” He snarked.

Bret, as the leader of this three-man foraging unit was apparently called, drove Brian’s truck along an old country highway as Brian sat in the passenger seat. Carla was in the back, not saying much and Brian hoped it would stay that way.

“So this camp.” Started Brian.

“Army general Operations Base.” Bret corrected him.

“Right.” Agreed Brian. “You say it has a medical facility?”

“Yup.”

“And medicine?”

“Affirmative.” They were following the other two in one of those ubiquitous black SUVs. It turned from the old highway and took a smaller side road heading deeper into the woods.

“Where is it exactly?” Brian wanted to know.

“You’ll see in a minute.” Bret dismissed him. “We’re almost there.”

“Do you guys have any contact with any other government agencies?”

“Communication is sporadic and supply lines are iffy, at best.” Bret answered. “To tell you the truth, these AGO bases are manned mostly by the kind of mental midgets you see in that vehicle ahead of me. They weren’t Army regulars before all this. Most aren’t these days, but a smart, young guy like you could be very useful. If you join up, keep your nose clean and don’t make too much trouble, you’ll have all the food, medicine, and women you could possibly want.”

“Women?” Brian asked just to make sure he had heard correctly.

“Oh yeah.” Bret smiled. “There’s tons of civvie chicks at these places and they all dig a man in uniform.” Brian nodded as if he cared. “You’ll see.” Promised Bret. They followed the other vehicle further into the tall trees as night began to fall.

“What day is it today?” Brian asked, realizing he had absolutely no idea.

“Wednesday.” Came the answer. Brian’s mind immediately set about doing math. He didn’t care what the army wanted from him as long as he got what he needed. Wednesday. He had three weeks. He sighed and rested his head against the glass. Three weeks, at most.