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SO MUCH FOR RETIREMENT…
“Oh my God,” breathed Karen.
“What is it?” asked Sheridan.
“My Dad’s address… his home address… and his cell
number for work,” answered Karen.
“Of all the daft things,” mused Terrence. “Is it him or
someone looking for him?”
Derek groaned and leaned back in his chair. “If it’s him,
I’m glad that I headed back here. The trip to Garson would
have been a gigantic waste… but if it’s someone looking for
him then we definitely know where he is.”
“Do we risk it?” asked Marissa.
“Yes. In this area… other than here… where would
Garrett be?” asked Derek.
“Wait, did you say Garrett?” asked Francis. “Last name
wouldn’t also be Wither, would it?”
They looked over at Francis.
“Yeah, why?” asked Derek.
“Right before everything went silent we granted a travel
pass for one Garrett Wither so he could head up to High Falls,”
replied Francis as he looked from Derek to Karen and back
again. “I was the last one to sign off on it.”
THE LAST IRON HORSE
KRISTAN CANNON
The Last Iron Horse is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the
product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
© Kristan Cannon 2015
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced by electronic or printed means without express
written permission by the author.
Published in Canada by KCEditions.
Printed in the United States
Distributed by Ingram Worldwide
First Edition – October 2015
www.kceditions.com
www.kristancannon.com
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Cannon, Kristan, 1980-, author
The last iron horse / Kristan Cannon.
Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-0-9937603-3-4 (bound)
ISBN 978-0-9937603-5-8 (paperback)
ISBN 978-0-9937603-4-1 (html)
I. Title.
PS8605.A5753L37 2015
C813'.6
C2015-906598-4
C2015-906599-2
Other Books by Kristan Cannon
The Kingdom of Walden Series
After Oil
The Last Iron Horse
Ghostwalker (Fall 2016)
To my family and friends;
You’re all patient, if cattle-prodding, people. That’s okay.
Sometimes I need that…
THE LAST IRON HORSE
KRISTAN CANNON
1
CHAPTER ONE
“Hold it right there!” shouted a woman from behind
him just as David Radzinsky stepped into the clearing
overlooking the city of Sudbury.
David shielded his eyes from the sun, and shrugged
helplessly as Abigail and Emilie looked at each other.
The woman and another man approached from out of
the low brush. David looked up to the sky and shook his head.
The three had not seen them—nor heard their approach until
the woman spoke.
The sun’s glare over the rocks to the east had blinded
David and the others. But they had still pushed on—leaving
Lively to continue to Garson. Even the slowly disintegrating
spires below the stack across a serene Kelly Lake that
overshadowed everything was behind them.
Kristan Cannon
2
Strangely, there was still something familiar about the
other man as David finally was able to blink through the glare
to get his first look at him.
“If you make one move towards that rifle we will
shoot,” the man said. “You didn’t come from the same
direction as the raiders… just who are you?”
“My name is David Radzinsky—formerly a constable in
the city police. This is Abby and Emilie. We just came from
Lively.”
“Lively?” asked the man in surprise, although the rifle
never wavered. “That’s quite the trek on foot.”
“Look, now that we’re not strangers now and all,”
pointed out Emilie. “Could you at least tell us your names and
maybe let us put our hands down now?”
The man glanced over at his companion who sighed.
David considered the other man, and then the woman with
him. He had assumed—incorrectly—that the man was in
charge. He immediately recognized another police officer as
soon as he observed the woman closer. She never lowered her
own weapon, but nodded to her partner.
She finally answered, “I’m Adrienne, before I was OPP,
and this is Russell Wither…”
“… Wither? As in Sheridan and Karen Wither?” asked
Abigail, as Russell flicked his gaze over at her.
“Yeah,” answered Russell, lifting a brow. “My nieces…
wait, you did say you came from Lively.”
“Are you the uncle from Toronto?” asked Emilie, and
when Russell nodded, she then looked over at Adrienne. “And
you’re OPP… any chance anyone else survived this mess?”
“A few in Long Lake,” answered Adrienne. “Only a
few towards the city. Answer the damn question.”
David observed the gradual calming of Adrienne’s
stance and said, “Sheridan gave us all shelter on her farm. You
The Last Iron Horse
3
could say we work for her now. Now, like Emilie asked, can
we put our hands down now?”
“Come on, we can talk at the campsite by the overlook,”
suggested Russell, as he lowered his rifle and motioned to
Adrienne to do the same. “I’d like to hear how my family is
doing… and why you’re this far this way instead of still in
Whitefish with them.”
David let his hands drop, and he saw Abigail and
Emilie do the same. Abigail sighed in relief as she looked
around. David crinkled his eyes and then she winked.
“Expedition to Garson to find your brother, actually,”
answered David, shaking his head at Abigail before following
Russell and Adrienne. “We had two others with us, but one of
them was injured while fighting to defend Lively—probably
from the same raiders you’re having issues with, if that’s the
reason you’re so cautious. He had to stay behind to recover
and decided afterwards he was heading back to Whitefish.”
“Damn,” said Russell as they led David into a small,
hidden clearing just off the highway and above the overlook
they had been looking for. “Have a seat. Tara makes a really
good tea and we have some left and you can fill me on how my
family is doing.”
* * * * *
Dane stopped and stared at the unexpected sight of
outsiders at the gate. He looked up to the sky and exhaled a
silent, “Thank you!” before he walked down the short path to
the chain link fence. For a moment he was suspicious as they
did not seem to have a means of travel up here other than on
foot. But since they came up in a good size group he pressed
the apprehension to the back of his mind.
Dane had his hand on the gate lock when he finally got
his first good look at the group. They were not the army, or
Kristan Cannon
4
even representatives of the mine or the company—although he
recognized a few from the smelter and mine directly to their
south.
Some of the strangers had zip ties on their wrists and
looked emaciated, as if they had nothing to eat for months.
He froze mid motion and then let his hand fall from the
gate lock before stepping back. “What can I do for you?” Dane
asked amicably.
“How many people up here?”
“Me, and a few others,” he replied. “We keep the dam
running.”
“Anyone spare?”
“I wish,” answered Dane, already suspecting he was
not going to like where this was leading. “I’m looking for
people. We’re already too few.”
“Well, if that’s the case perhaps we can come to an
arrangement,” said the outsider. “I happen to be in the
personnel business.”
Dane creased his brow, Oh, no this isn’t suspicious at all.
He then whispered, “Interesting.”
“Fair exchange is all I ask for. They work for you and…
well… They are yours,” he finished, and a smirk began to
spread on his face but he stifled it.
This did nothing to alleviate Dane’s rising suspicion on
what kind of personnel he dealt in. Dane held his hands
behind his back to conceal the tremors running up his spine
and down into his limbs. This the part where I wake up from this
nightmare, he thought as he wrestled to keep his breakfast
where it belonged. It had scarcely been six months since all
contact from head office had abruptly vanished. No one had
called, or come up this way to check on them. He had hoped—
but to no avail—that someone would come.
The Last Iron Horse
5
Now that someone had, he understood the worst now
stood at the gate. People had come but they were slavers. No,
seriously… Dane, wake up now. “Are we talking slave labour?”
asked Dane in disbelief. “You do know this is union country,
right?”
“No, my friend, it was union country. There’s no union
out there anymore and no one to stop us,” countered the other
man. “Look, tell you what… I have to head back west.
Eventually I’ll be back this way and when I come back you tell
me what you think. I hope you’ll see it my way. I’d hate to
replace your people with mine.”
The slaver’s threat was hardly subtle and Dane
managed to stop himself from shifting from one foot to the
other. “We’ll see,” he answered, grudgingly.
“Thought you’d see it my way,” nodded the man and
he, and his group, left back down the south road.
Dane returned to the shop office and sorely wished he
had more people. But the fight to oust Garrett had cost him
some of the best fighters he had. It was too late to bemoan the
past now. Given what it had taken to even overthrow him the
older man’s help would have been priceless.
Good job Dane, at least if Garrett was still around you’d have
a solution on how to handle these arseholes, he mused as he kicked
a rock in frustration as he strode back up to the control house.
But no, you just had to have control of the site. The old man had what
you wanted…
…Isn’t this ironic—congratulations, idiot, you’ve got
control… but at what cost now? Dane slammed the door of the
control house closed as he stalked up the stairs to the upper
office where once Garrett had managed the dam. He looked
out the window and, with the view of the road, he watched the
slavers as they backtracked back down the winding road and
down to the railway.
Now what are you going to do?
Kristan Cannon
6
Could he negotiate? He knew if even tried he may as
well damn his soul to the deepest, darkest pit of hell for
consorting with slavers. But what choice do I have? He sat down
in the chair and put his head in his hands. You shouldn’t have thrown
the old man off the dam, moron—he’d have a plan.
Dane groaned and stared listlessly out the window
again and the slavers were out of view. The screech of a train
whistle in the distance betrayed their method of travel and he
sucked in a breath as he felt his heart sink.
It would have to be a damn train. There was no
stopping a freight train—to even try was suicide. I should have
never thrown Garrett off the dam, he realized as he ran his hand
through his hair. Because I’m screwed now…
* * * * *
Two young men perched on top of a military issued
truck meant mostly for transporting goods. The winter had
given way to spring and Aidan Kwan was quite happy to see
the snow finally melt. Unlike Francis, who sat beside him on
top of the truck, he was not actually from the north and the
winter cold enough to freeze his hair solid had been an
unwelcome surprise.
I still can’t believe I survived when the others on that bus
didn’t, thought Aidan as he looked over at Francis and asked,
“Why do we do this every day? You said, as far as you could
tell, your orders weren’t even valid anymore.”
With a shrug Francis asked, “What else would we do?”
Valid point, mused Aidan.
They were left completely with no idea what they could
do with their lives now. As far as either of them knew there
was nothing to go back to in the first place. Aidan had been on
his way from Toronto up to a lodge behind Thunder Bay—a
The Last Iron Horse
7
resort of some sort—as a chef when the bus had been waylaid
by the sudden snowstorm it couldn’t push through.
Francis had been stationed here, his truck left to sit
where the four lanes heading west out of Sudbury and to Sault
Ste. Marie ended and the two lanes began.
The bus was further up the highway on the two lanes
and… well… once he had found Francis they had ventured
back to the bus but it had been too late to help anyone else.
“That’s it, I can’t do this anymore,” fumed Francis. “We
haven’t heard a damn thing. Someone must have run into
trouble or the Primacord would not have been used.”
Aidan sighed. “So, I take it we’re heading that way?”
Francis nodded as he checked his fuel reserves. “We
should have enough to get there and back here, even if the road
isn’t great,” he explained. “At least in Lively we aren’t in the
middle of nowhere and the communications post is there. I
should be able to find out what the hell happened.”
Heaving yet another sigh, Aidan thought about it for a
moment. “I’m guessing at least there I would be able to find
something a bit more… well… better than this, right?”
Francis lifted a brow. “Probably. Truthfully I have no
idea.”
The road behind Pothier and Denlou were, on a good
day, at best rough and had the resemblance of a patchwork of
gravel and halfhearted pavement patches. This had not
changed over the winter.
A small number of holes had opened up but they were
minor and the bulky truck rolled over them with nary a bump.
When they reached the next road—which on Francis’s map
was named Panache Lake Road—the scene was drastically
different. The road was wider, and more in the open…
… And there were two very well armed people on
horseback guarding the road, and one of them pointed at the
truck.
Kristan Cannon
8
“What in the name of hell?” muttered Francis as he
stared out the windshield.
Two people on horses were just as surprised to see
them. Or at least Aidan assumed so.
“Likely heard us coming,” mused Francis.
“Who are they?” asked Aidan, leaning forward in his
seat before he glanced over at Francis.
They looked like something out of the middle ages, but
had modern rifles in easy reach of their hands. Neither of them
wore helmets, and their armour was a mix of dark washed
leather over Kevlar painted in a camouflage pattern.
“I don’t know,” answered Francis.
For a long moment there was an uneasy stand off until
the one of them shrugged and walked their horse near the
driver’s side window. Not so close to be threatening but close
enough they could talk without yelling. Francis rolled the
window down enough to talk.
Both were now in an equally vulnerable position and he
recognized the effort in negotiation. “I’d ask why two people
on horseback are blocking the road,” said Francis.
The woman retorted, “Making sure you’re who you
appear to be.”
“Is there a reason I wouldn’t be?” he asked, and Aidan
saw Francis lick his lips, flicking a glance over to Aidan before
looking back at the woman on horseback.
“We’ve had issues over the winter with, well, I guess
the best way to describe them is ‘raiders’. Looking to loot the
area now since there’s no apparent law to prevent them,” she
answered. “You’re the first sign of anything of Canada.”
Aidan watched the colour drain from Francis’s face,
right before his friend managed to reply—his tone distant, “I
lost communication with our command post before Christmas.
Been stuck up in Denlou with no word and no orders.”
The Last Iron Horse
9
“I have good news and I’ve got bad news, if you’re dead
set on heading to Lively,” she answered. “The good news is
we’ve got people headed that way who are just as curious…
but you’ve missed them. The bad news is, as far as we can see,
the bridges over the Vermillion are out between here and
Lively on both the four lanes and the Old Highway.”
Francis thought for a moment. “So… what do you
suggest?”
“You could talk to Dr. Wither, and her farm is down the
road more,” the other man pointed to the south and further
down Panache Lake Road. “When you get to the gate tell them
Gina and Jabe sent you.”
Francis looked over at Aidan. “What do you think?”
Aidan thought for a moment. “Being on good terms
with a doctor would be nifty. Especially with the resources I’ve
seen so far.”
“Yeah, my thought exactly.” He turned back to Jabe.
“How far down this road?”
“Not far. Maybe one K, at most.”
“All right, we’ll check it out,” agreed Francis.
Jabe nodded over to Gina, and they both moved out of
the way so the truck could turn right and head south. The road
here was wider than the one they had come from, although
there were still spots where it resembled a patchwork quilt. The
hills were gentler as the construction had filled in gaps and
blown through rock cuts. As Jabe promised they came to a
gate—or what was left of one—at the top of the second hill.
Numerous guards were everywhere, and Francis had no doubt
there were more in the woods but hidden and unseen.
He got out of the truck, hands held loosely but
nonthreatening by his side. “Hi, Gina said to talk to Dr.
Wither.”
Kristan Cannon
10
A few of the them looked from one to the other. “I’ll
admit if you took the time to talk then you likely aren’t here to
raid us.”
Francis shook his head.
“How many with you?”
“Just me and Aidan. My name’s Corporal Francis
Montgomery, but given the situation Francis is fine. Or Mutt.”
“Mutt?” asked one, raising an eyebrow.
“Nickname from basic,” he answered. “No idea. Don’t
ask.”
The man sighed and spoke into a hand held radio. A
moment later he turned back. “Terrence is coming up to talk to
you. Don’t take this the wrong way—we’ve had some serious
issues over the winter and he’s kind of protective of his wife.”
“Fair enough,” answered Francis. “I would be too if
Jabe was accurate.”
A few moments later another man rode up to the gate
on horseback. It was at this point Aidan noticed a pattern.
Every horse he had seen so far was typically large, and
black with very little variance. Gina’s had been the only light
horse and more a speckled grey. “Getting the feeling this farm
is a pro ranch,” mused Aidan. “And those black horses are
their specialty.”
“Yeah, I was getting the same vibe,” agreed Francis.
The man did not dismount from the horse and Francis
came out of the truck again. “So, Gina sent you our way,” he
began.
“Where did you come from in the first place?”
“Pothier and Denlou. Got stuck there in the major
snowstorm right before Christmas. I was supposed to be meet
up with the rest of my unit in Lively but according to the intel
from your people there’s no bridge over the big river between
The Last Iron Horse
11
here and there,” he answered. “That, and you’ve got people
headed there anyway.”
Terrence mused over this for a moment and asked, “Do
you still intend on trying to get there?”
“I’ve half a mind to, but I can’t leave an obviously
undefended community with a previous issue from raiders
either,” he answered. “Not when I can clearly help out. I’ve no
orders and the last I heard I likely won’t be getting them either.
If you’ve got a place for us instead of being on the road we’d
do what we can to help out.”
Aidan hackles rose, but he quelled his ire quickly. If
there was no way back to Lively this at least was far more
comfortable than the alternative back in Denlou. The glitter of
solar panels in the distance betrayed the fact they likely still
had electricity, which meant civilization somewhat survived
here. Survival on this ranch was far more attractive than what
was on the road.
“Well, come down to the house at least. Unless you’ve
no objection of walking… but it’s a bit unfair for me to be on
horseback and you on foot. But, I would consider it a personal
favour if you left your truck on the road down there… and still
visible,” said Terrence.
Francis nodded and then got back in the truck as
Terrence moved out of his way to let them drive down the hill.
“Thanks for asking,” said Aidan.
“Sorry… but I thought you’d like having better digs
than in this truck or the church.”
Aidan sighed. “Yeah, that’s why I’m not overly upset
about it. I can see what kind of place it is from here.”
As requested, Francis parked it right across the road,
but made sure there was still enough room for horses to go
around it if they needed to. Aidan got out after Francis did,
and Terrence caught up to them shortly after, dismounting
once in the driveway.
Kristan Cannon
12
The older man tilted his head as if to say ‘Follow me’
and led them to the front of the massive house. Aidan stopped
walking, sucking in a breath, once he caught sight of the
Manor.
Architecturally it was a cross between English Manor
and Northern Cabin made of pale grey granite and dark
stained wood. All of the metalwork was black painted iron
instead of brass.
If Aidan had to guess there were two, maybe three
stories above ground and a basement.
“Holy crap, this is a big house,” breathed Francis. “You
said your wife is a doctor?”
Terrence nodded. “Surgeon, actually. And her cousin is
a veterinarian. I’m a civil engineer. You’re military… and…”
Aidan smiled wanly, still gazing up at the house as he
walked. The closer he got the smaller he felt but instead of
feeling his heart race he felt the warmth, and the feeling of
someone with a near constant grip on his neck eased. “Chef…
actually, fine pastry and baking,” answered Aidan as he tested
his neck as one final knot released.
I haven’t felt that since I was a kid, he mused. I… I hate to
admit it but I’m glad Francis volunteered us…
“Ah,” Terrence said, with a nod. “Just so you know,
Sheridan has a sweet tooth.”
“Good to know,” mentioned Aidan as he lifted his
brow. Maybe if civilization comes back I have a new place to work…
Anyone with a house this big probably needed a
professional cook to watch over things and he could be this
someone.
“When everything was on, you have internet out this
way?” Aidan asked, and he noticed Francis lift an eyebrow.
“Not the fastest on the planet but we had it,” answered
Terrence. “I was in the middle of ordering a T1 satellite set up
The Last Iron Horse
13
when everything went down. We would have needed it to
monitor the field, as well as run certain aspects of the ranch
itself. And I’ll admit I like to play MMO’s in my spare time so
the added speed and bandwidth would have been fantastic.”
“What about a personal chef on the property to keep all
the people fed?” asked Aidan.
“I see why you’re asking,” laughed Terrence. “Well, the
good news is we’re busy enough so we’d like that. The bad
news is her grandmother rules the kitchen so you’d have to
share with her.”
“I can work with others,” grinned Aidan as he followed
the man into the house.
Francis whistled. “Wow, I said it once… but this is some
house.”
“We have the best family gatherings here,” came a
woman’s voice as she walked around the corner from a hidden
hallway. “I’m Sheridan. I’m sure my husband has sung my
praises by now.”
“I’m Francis, this is Aidan,” answered Francis. “And…
well… he has. Nothing you probably don’t deserve though.
Nice place.”
She inclined her head.
The manor said English, or at least some place in the
British Isles, but her hair and faintly dusky skin said something
else. She moved with grace, and her hands were well
manicured.
Terrence said she was surgeon. I can believe it, Aidan
thought. Just watching the precise, exact movement she
controlled with every move made. Surgeons always took good
care of their hands—their very livelihood depended on it—and
Aidan had always found hands attractive as well as the biggest
tell tales of the person’s true nature.
The doors behind them opened suddenly and both he
and Francis jumped as a young man came running in. He
Kristan Cannon
14
stood up as he tried to catch his breath, but Sheridan made a
placating gesture with her hands. “Whoa, catch your breath,”
she said.
The runner shook his head, but still held up a hand with
his index finger clearly communicating, One minute. He stood
up and took another gulp of air, “Sheri, news from the
spotters…”
She lifted an eyebrow before asking, “And that is?”
“Derek’s been sighted at the Fire Hall.”
The Last Iron Horse
15
CHAPTER TWO
Only two Rangers remained in the Manor, and they
stood in the kitchen finishing the last of their tea. The paradox
of their gear held Aidan’s gaze. It’s like they all pick the same
items—or they share their resources, he noticed. Light, as little as
possible to slow them down, but prepared for almost anything.
He had only been here a few hours and already he felt
at home—and the Rangers fascinated him.
It was in the way the Rangers walked… as if they knew
they could handle anything thrown at them and then just
disappear into the forests.
“Are you sure?” asked the first one, leaning on the
counter as he drank his tea.
“That’s what Gina told Colette. She said she saw two
horses and someone with silver hair heading downstream…
Kristan Cannon
16
which means they’d be through the boatyard,” answered the
second one. “Given when Gina encountered them on the
road—they’d be at the Fire Hall by now.”
Aidan tried not to eavesdrop but it was difficult not to.
News of Derek’s impending arrival was everywhere he turned.
And if he formed these Rangers from almost nothing I’d like
to see what he’s like, he mused as he followed Lorraine in the
kitchen while learning her techniques in cooking.
“Cooking without power or ready supply of natural gas
is a different experience,” she explained as she showed him
around the kitchen. Aidan dragged his attention away from
the Rangers. “Until Terrence and the others finish remodelling
the kitchen to have a wood stove and cook top we’re stuck
using the fireplace in the living room. But, even after they’re
done with the building—and making sure it doesn’t catch the
whole works on fire—the principle is the same.”
“I imagine keeping the heat controlled may be a large
factor,” he considered. “The fire will bank and die if you don’t
keep a balanced supply of fuel, and add too much it will flare
up.”
“Exactly,” she agreed. “Much of it is simply patience.
Stir, and add a few pieces of wood. Mind you, baking is better.
Coals keep their heat steady and for a very, very long time. It’s
slower than other methods, but the principle is the same as
baking in a regular oven.”
“I imagine you make one mean pizza,” said Aidan, with
a laugh.
“Better than I have in the other, anyway,” she
countered.
Aidan stared out the window to the solar fields just
beyond the pasture for the horses. The two Rangers had left
the main hall and now were by the fence checking their gear.
Soon, like the others, they would also be off on one of their
The Last Iron Horse
17
patrols. Lorraine glanced up and lifted her eyebrows, “And
that’s why Derek left in the first place. He went to find my
son—or anyone else—who might be able to engineer a solution
so the field could power the area. We have so much here in the
way of trades, and even some engineers, but not one has the
expertise we need.”
“I had wondered,” he admitted, dipping his head as a
slight blush crept up his neck. “But you do have power at least
some of the time.”
She must have thought I was looking at the solar field… but
she’s got a point. They could generate so much power but right now
they’re kind of useless.
“Ah, we had a few panels spare. All it took was an
electrician or two to figure out the proper wiring and supply
issues to install them on the roof of the house to give us this
much. It keeps the fridges cold, runs the water pump, the
filters, and heats up the hot water tanks. Bare necessities to
make things a little more bearable.”
“At least you have that,” he admitted. “And this Derek,
who is he?”
Lorraine exhaled and answered, “A friend of my late
husband’s, as well as my son’s. Worked for us twenty years
ago and even after my husband retired kept in contact despite
having to find work elsewhere.” She shrugged. “Not much
more to really tell. He’s like everyone else… just trying to
survive and find his place in the world.”
Aidan crinkled his brow as he picked up the tray of food
and followed Lorraine outside to the summer kitchen. He
realized then this Derek was not a young man like he and
Francis. If he was a colleague of Lorraine’s late husband, and a friend
to her sons, it puts him into at least into his fifties… and he still left
the safety of the farm to… what?
Kristan Cannon
18
“Let me get this straight… he went out with a few others
younger than him when he could have stayed here?” asked
Aidan.
“Derek was never one to sit on the sidelines,” explained
Terrence as he walked up the stairs to the patio, catching the
tail end of the conversation. “I’m not surprised he dove in with
both feet.” He turned to Lorraine. “Teaching him the tricks of
the trade, are you?”
“He was interested, and given he’s a cook I decided to
fill in the gaps of his fancy arse education,” she answered while
poking Terrence in the ribs. “Get out of here, you’ll ruin your
appetite for supper.”
Terrence opened his mouth and raised his brows almost
as if he were going to say something in reply but Lorraine beat
him to it. “Yes, yes, I know. Not likely with you. Here,”
Lorraine said as she pushed a roll of bread into his hands.
“Take this and share a few bites with Sheri while you’re at it.”
“All right already,” he ducked his head and retreated
back into the house and the main hall off the kitchen.
The room there used to be the formal dining room.
Aidan could tell by just looking at it. The room had never been
a favourite so they used the little nook behind the kitchen
instead. Now they used the formal dining room as council
chambers.
Aidan had only helped Lorraine in running the hectic
dining room and main hall.
It was as demanding as any of the restaurants he had
been trained in—perhaps more so. People were always coming
and going as the farm took many hands to function. Lorraine
cooked in batches and never by ‘short order’.
She was also restricted to what was in the vicinity.
Produce and livestock, and rarely one of the Rangers or a
hunter would bring in fresh fish or game. The option of
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19
running to a local grocery store or market was now gone.
Exotic fruits or other food stuffs were now a historical footnote.
While he did not have to keep track of orders as
Lorraine decided the meals for the day and then cooked on the
fire, if need be, he was still kept busy.
Francis and Aidan had a place to sleep on Sheridan’s
third floor. It was more of a converted attic and far away from
the main fire places but still warmer than the alternative.
And therein was the other problem.
It was warmer than the other places in the house to
sleep and summer was impending. The nights were slowly
changing from unbearably cold to actually comfortable. Soon
it would be as hot up there as one of Lorraine’s ovens.
With a sigh he finished the tasks Lorraine had given
him, and she shooed him out. “Go on, you. There’s plenty to
do outside as well if you’re so inclined. Even if you’re not
there’s still plenty to see.”
Aidan did not need a second invitation. Instead of
going outside he headed upstairs and to the communal library
area. The large flat screen above the fireplace was dark, and it
was quiet up here. Most of those who lived in the Manor
preferred to spend their time outside. Unlike them Aidan was
not a big fan of the outdoors and preferred pursuits which
challenged his mind. The collection of books here rivalled
some of the branches of the Toronto library.
But today he was not alone.
The man he found already there was tall—perhaps
taller than even Terrence—and his head shaved bald. Aidan
almost turned and left before the other man realized he was
there but then he decided against it. The room was one of the
shared areas of the Manor and he was as welcome here as
anyone else. Still, the manners drilled into him by his family
were hard to ignore. He took another step to bring himself
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20
fully into the room and said, “Sorry, didn’t realize there was
someone else here.”
The other man looked up from the couch and lifted an
eyebrow. “Plenty of room, kid,” he responded. “Haven’t seen
you around before.”
“I just came in from Denlou,” Aidan said.
“You’re from Denlou?” he asked. “Don’t take this the
wrong way, but I didn’t think there were many Chinese
Mennonites.”
“There aren’t,” retorted Aidan. “I was stuck there for
the winter.”
“Ah,” he said as he put the book down. “You from the
area at least?”
Aidan shook his head. “Toronto.”
“What brought you all the way up here?”
For a long moment Aidan considered just telling him
his standard answer. It was on the tip of his tongue but instead
he answered, “Family issues. I hopped a bus with the first job
offer as far away as I could get from my family.”
“I see,” he said. “Well, nice to meet you. My name is
Tyrell, or as the others have taken to calling me ‘Lord Tyrell,
the Master Smith’. Sheridan still rolls her eyes at everything
but in reality what we need is a new government—if you ask
me.”
“Good to know,” said Aidan. “Aidan… a cook, pastry
chef, actually.”
“You’re the one helping out Lorraine. The woman’s a
damn fine cook but she can only do so much and trust me when
I say this—we've noted your help here,” said Tyrell.
“So whose idea was it to make her Queen?” asked
Aidan.
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21
“Mine—if you must know,” he answered, and when
Aidan’s eyes widened he laughed. “You weren’t expecting
that, were you?”
“No… I must admit I wasn’t,” answered Aidan. “I
actually expected she had… or Terrence had. Not that
someone from outside had.”
“It made sense—” he supplied, and pointed to the other
couch. Once Aidan had sat down across from him he
continued. “If not for Sheridan—remember, it was Sheridan’s
kindness and not anyone else’s—we’d all be dead by now. Of
course, outside of this being her property and also her
resources we eat up every day.”
Aidan crinkled his brow. “Oh sure, sure if not for us
she’d not be able to run the farm but reality speaking she
would have found a way. But… she let us come here and for
the first bit we virtually ate her out of house and home and
what did she do?” Tyrell paused as he took a long drink of the
glass of water sitting on the table beside him. “Nothing… other
than worry how she was going to carry on making sure we
were all safe. Not once did she protest about us being a drain
on her resources. Long story short it makes her the best choice.
Or so I put forward and we all agreed.”
“So now she’s Queen,” mused Aidan. “One part is luck
of owning the farm and the other because of popular approval.
And she takes it seriously?”
“She set up the provisional council and, yes, while she
hand-picked the first members of her council she at least did
something. I’m on it, Terrence is on it… hell, half the people
you’ve met are on it. The question is where do you fit in?”
“There an opening on Council?” he asked.
“Unfortunately you’d have had to show up earlier than
this,” he countered. “But, Lorraine’s taken a shine to you and
while the inner council has been filled I understand things are
slowly progressing to an outer council—a grand council—as
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22
well. The longer we go on the more we’ll need to keep it
organized.”
Aidan leaned back in the chair. “Why are you telling
me this?” he asked.
“You look like you’re settling in here. Like you want to
stay. I didn’t know if anyone else had filled you in and from
the look of it no one had. So I did. You okay with it?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” answered Aidan, and then he sighed.
“You think she’ll let me stick around?”
Tyrell let out a bark of laughter. “You try leaving!” he
answered and then sobered. “Well, she wouldn’t stop you
from leaving if you actually wanted to go—she’s all about free
will and free choice—but she wouldn’t want to see you leave
either. If no one wanted you here… especially if she didn’t…
trust me when I say you’d have been gone a long time ago.”
He was about to say something else when he looked out
the front window. He straightened up, and then stood up as
he craned his neck to watch the two riders as they passed by
the windows. “Well, I’ll be…” he said as he softly backhanded
Aidan’s shoulder.
Aidan rolled his eyes and smirked as Tyrell—far too
excited by the sight of the riders—was no longer paying any
attention to him. What little he had seen before they were past
the windows was of a man older than Aidan, and judging by
the stiffness of his posture he had been on horseback for many
hours.
A woman, silver haired and whip thin, rushed to help
him down.
Tyrell ran around the corner and down the spiral stairs
to the first floor while Aidan was close on his heels. Terrence’s
office, and usual haunt outside of the war room, was right here
at the end of the hall. His windows faced inside the open
garage and also in the back yard. Trees and other landscaping
The Last Iron Horse
23
impeded his view of the two riders so he would not have seen
them enter the yard since he was also just walking into his
office.
He whirled in surprise when Tyrell took two giant steps
and said, “Derek just rode in towards the barn.”
Terrence dropped the book he was holding on the
closest chair and followed Tyrell out to the back yard. The
other two were cooling down their horses in the small exercise
area. Or, at least, the woman was while the man—Derek,
Aidan assumed—propped himself tiredly on the steps as the
two other older men shot past him before even realizing he was
there.
Aidan chose to hold himself back from bounding down
the steps towards the silver haired woman. Instead he walked
down the wide stairs to the ground where a man sat on the
brick retaining wall. He stared into a set of blue eyes both
curious—if his slightly raised eye brow was anything to go
by—as well as drained to the point of not being able to bear it
anymore. The man was not sitting so much as leaning on the
retaining wall, head on the railing of the stairs. His eyes were
only open because his chosen location to finally rest was
awkward and uncomfortable. He had to blink every so often
as if even this was not quite enough to keep his exhaustion at
bay.
Aidan hesitated, and then took the last three steps down
to the yard so he was on an even keel with the man. At first he
was not sure what to say to break the silence, but his doubt
vanished when Tyrell and Terrence turned around.
“Derek!” exclaimed Terrence as he pulled the older man
to his feet to shake his hand.
Derek was about to reply when he swayed. Terrence
caught him to avert a painful tumble, and then helped him sit
back down on the steps. Aidan pulled back, knowing the need
for the two friends to have some privacy. Tyrell looked over at
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24
Aidan with a nod, and touched Terrence’s shoulder, “We’ll be
around if you need us.”
“Do me a favour and tell Sheri to find us in her clinic.”
“Aidan?” asked Tyrell.
Aidan nodded, satisfied for the task as it gave him a
chance to get away. Tyrell was already headed into the first
entry way—doubtless back to his usual haunts of either the
garage or the basement where his tools were in easy reach.
Terrence turned his attention back to his friend. “You’ve seen
better days.”
“I’ve felt them,” replied Derek as he opened his eyes.
“Wow, I think I’ll just sit here and rest for a second.”
“Yeah, but if I leave you here not only will Sheri have
my head, so will your wife,” pointed out Terrence as he helped
Derek back up to his feet. “We’ll take it slow, if it helps.”
“You’re going to walk me all the way up to my wife and
I’s room?” asked Derek, an eyebrow rising in amusement.
“No, I’m going to walk you to Sheridan’s clinic and
there you’ll stay until my wife has a chance to look at you.
After that, and a shower if you want one, if you still need the
hand up there I’ll walk you up there,” countered Terrence.
Noting Derek was about to object he pointed out, “If you don’t
head to the clinic, how fast will Reese kill you?”
Derek sighed, “Point taken.”
* * * * *
Kirk leaned against the door jamb, watching the road
leading into the town on the south shore of the narrow and
aptly named Long Lake.
An older woman—perhaps older than even he was—
came and joined him for the view. At first he had hated Tara
and everything she stood for. While they still did not see
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25
everything eye to eye, especially since their faiths were polar
opposites, he could admit her advice and wisdom in regards to
the area and also surviving were crucial. She had a good heart
and always tried to see the best in people.
Perhaps it was this last which made him wonder if he
was too quick to judge her based on some preconceived notion
of what he thought he should believe about her.
Not like she did not judge him based on the same—she
did.
“The summer looks to be a dry one,” she pointed out.
“Not good when we consider the issue of wild fires without the
aerial or land based support. We’ll have to plan for it
ourselves.”
“What led you to this?” he asked.
“It’s already too dry this early into the summer,” she
answered. “While the winter gave us plenty of snow it’s
already melted and the water level has hardly raised. This
means the water table is lower than it should be—and since
we’re not exactly all the way out of spring yet…”
Kirk sighed. “We’re in trouble. What else?”
“Russell and Adrienne are overdue,” she answered
finally.
With a shrug he turned back and made his way into the
community centre. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Russ
and Adi can take care of themselves. They survived up in a
cabin all winter to the north of us with nary a peep and even
less supplies.”
“So, you’re not concerned at all?” she asked,
incredulously.
He shook his head. “I am—like I would be anyone else.
I really don’t want to lose another nephew but I can’t do
anything about it but hope, and pray, nothing has happened…
and for their safe return.”
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26
Tara put a hand on his shoulder in consolation. “I am
sorry about Daniel.”
With a small smile, he laid a hand on hers, patting it
gently. “You’re a good woman, Tara, why aren’t you
married?”
“What makes you think I wasn’t? I might have had a
husband or two who I’ve outlived in my time, for all you
know.”
“Interesting.”
“And wouldn’t you like to know!” she huffed, as she
used the same hand only moments ago had been on his
shoulder as she shook her finger at him. “And here I am being
sensitive and you throw in the fact I’m a good woman therefore
I need a husband. Bah! I’m fine on my own, thank you.”
Kirk backed off, holding his hands up and making a
motion to indicate his surrender and to hopefully calm her
down. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I meant that any man
would be more than lucky to have you as his wife… and please
don’t kick my arse about that.”
She took a breath and calmed down. “All right, I’ll
grant you the compliment you meant it as.”
* * * * *
There were no signs of any communications from his
colleagues in Ottawa or even Kingston. Dr. Robert Kaine could
admit he was beginning to worry. Not enough for rash
actions—he was not a man known for such things—but
enough to drive him into a brood.
A soft knock on his door dragged him out of the brood.
“Come in,” he called, not even bothering to reach for his cane
to stand up.
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The former mayor of Sudbury, a slight woman of Italian
descent, came in and watched the bank of screens. “I honestly
have no idea what it is you look for on these,” she pointed out.
Kaine chuckled. Valeria Piacentini was… well… he was
never sure what her game was. He was able to order around
the others here, or manipulate them into doing what he
wanted. She, however, was not so easily controlled.
Sometimes, after retiring for the night and thinking
about how some discussions had gone, he realized his own
tactics had been used against him. Somehow he had been the
one manipulated.
I like a game of cat and mouse, but I’d rather I was the cat, he
mused as he watched her read by the window in his office. Some days
I’m not sure if I’m the mouse or cat… or if we’re both the cat.
Unless we’re both the mice.
“Now that’s a fascinating thought,” he pondered aloud,
as the latter never occurred to him.
“What is?” she asked.
He shook his head as he got up and shuffled over to the
bank of screens. “If there was actually something to watch for
I would have something on them to see—it would be quite
clear, Madam Mayor,” he replied. “As such there is nothing to
see which means… well… there’s nothing to see.”
“And there should be,” she guessed.
“Yes,” he answered.
She twisted around to regard him. “Do you think,
honestly, one day we will have our former lives back? Or this
will resolve itself?”
Kaine thought for a long time. “No,” he replied. “Much
as I… well, I think I want it to. But do I honestly think it will?
No—what we get back will be fought for and bled for by
ourselves.”
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28
He looked up just as a screen lit up, and then went
dark—then lit back up again. Valeria observed it and tapped
her finger with the pattern. “What the hell is this?” she asked.
“It’s Morse Code,” he retorted.
“I know that. I also know what it relayed. It just doesn’t
make any sense. I think it was a phone number, and perhaps
an address…”
Kaine regarded what he wrote down. “I think you’re
right. Local number—and the address to someplace in Garson,
I think.”
“Anywhere in particular?” she asked as he laid out a
map.
Kaine was confused. It did not make any sense to him
at all. “Ah, just somewhere in the residential area… suburb…
perhaps someone is looking for someone,” he sighed. “Trying
to call home—hoping someone will relay it and find their
family, I think. Unfortunately, I don’t think they will ever get
their answer.”
Valeria looked down and then out the window and over
to the lake which was still grey, dark and cold. “Another lost
with no way to know if their loved ones still live… and the sad
part is they likely don’t.”
Kaine rested a hand on her shoulder. This was why he
scrutinised his screens so closely. While he knew where his
family was, and what they were doing; there were others
within the confines of the university who would never know
the same.
The only exception was one communication in the
spring. He still found himself wondering if he should tell her
about it. On one hand she would then at least know the man
who had covered her escape died.
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Yet she still hoped for Daniel Wither to reach
Laurentian. She had not given up hope one of these days he
would wander in.
Kaine knew better.
He had listened to the heart breaking communication
between brothers and colleagues. He had a fair idea of where
the man’s body now lay. It would be easy enough to take the
boat the mayor had arrived in—or even any of the other boats
still around—and find his body.
Not that I want to hear that again anyway. His psyche was
left in enough shattered fragments the first time to make him
wish for the resources to drink himself into oblivion while in
the dark of his own apartment.
Kaine was at once jealous of the relationship the
Withers had—even now—compared to his own fractured
family. Eventually he knew he needed to tell her and the
remnants of the Sudbury Police of what happened to him.
He just could not bring himself to do it yet.
* * * * *
Finding Sheridan was actually rather easy and Aidan
ran up to her, careful to do so from behind but yet within sight
and waited for her to release the tense string and let the arrow
she had already nocked fly to its target. She turned to him, her
eyebrow raised in surprise. “Aidan, wasn’t it?” she asked.
“That’s me,” he answered, a smile on his face at her
remembering who he even was.
There were so many running around meant her even
remembering one person’s name was rather impressive. He
stepped forward and said, “Tyrell sent me to find you. Derek
just rode in a few moments ago.”
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30
For a moment she clearly was at a loss for words, and
then her eyes narrowed as him she knew there was something
else.
“What else have you heard?” she asked plainly.
“More saw,” he answered honestly. “He didn’t look like
he was in the best of shape when I met him. He looked dead on
his feet, actually.”
At this final bit she passed him her bow and asked,
“Could you do me a gigantic favour and take this up to the
house?”
“Sure,” he answered, and she smiled then before
turning and jogging back to the manor herself.
Aidan turned the bow over in his hands, and then
picked up the quiver of arrows. It was an old fashioned long
bow but instead of being made of wood it appeared to be made
of fibreglass and the arrows were equally simple. He did not
know enough about archery to know if this made the bow
special or not, or if was just a crappy bow used for practise
only. But, he had said he would do as she asked so he picked
up the equipment, even going so far as to retrieve the arrows
she had already flown.
He walked up to the hay bale and noted the pattern on
the target—which was no more than a simple white sheet—had
been painted with a pattern to look like a dart board instead of
the usual target. Despite this, most of the arrows were clustered
close to the central red ‘bullseye’ but with a significant spread
to the upper left as if her natural inclination was to shoot high
and to the left, but had quickly corrected to where she needed
it to be.
Once he had retrieved them all he picked everything up
and walked back to the manor. The back sloped down towards
the river and the barn was lower than the rest of the house. This
meant the basement was ground level at the back, but not in
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31
the front. The first floor—a mere two feet, three at most in the
front—was a full level above instead of ground level and the
deck supported by thick pilings and timber supports.
A less formal sitting area was built here, and another
living space more meant for entertaining or working out, sat
beyond with more rooms behind. This made the actual third
floor tower over everything. The manor looked twice as big
from the back, as if there were two massive houses stacked on
top of each other. The one facing the back was less formal and
more comfortable while the front facing, and upper level, was
formal and meant to impress new visitors.
The reality was those who knew the Withers tended to
bypass the more formal upstairs and head straight downstairs
to this space.
Although, really, even with the relative formality of the
upstairs it was still all warm and welcoming anyway.
To the side on the lower level was a room where all the
sporting and hunting equipment was kept in lockers. Tyrell
ruled this area and—by now—he had returned to it. He looked
up when Aidan came running in with Sheridan’s bow and
quiver. “I was wondering if I’d see you back here,” he said as
he checked everything over. “Found all her arrows, but one,
but it’s okay. She probably buried it in the hay.”
“Like a needle in a haystack?” mused Aidan.
Tyrell snorted in amusement. “I’ve heard that old joke
so many times now it really should stop being funny but, oh
hell, it still is.”
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32
CHAPTER THREE
“And basically that’s the whole story,” finished David,
as he took a sip of the tea. “Derek and Marissa went back to
the Manor and we kept going.”
Russell leaned against the tree as he stared into the fire.
He was relieved his mother and two nieces were alive. It’s at
least a start but there are still too many left unanswered for, he
thought. I still have a nephew out there…
…And then there’s my own family still out of reach, and
Toronto would be a hundred times worse than here.
He refused to let his thoughts head down the same dark
path he found himself during the winter once he realized there
would be no getting back to them—ever. He could only take
each day as they came. Although he had, more than a once,
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33
planned his own expedition to Toronto, it meant leaving
Adrienne and his Uncle Kirk behind.
David’s explanation only relieved the worry about
Russell’s family in Whitefish, but little else. He stood up and
looked over at Adrienne. “Are you thinking what I think you
are?” she asked and he smiled.
“If small areas are forming their own independent
states then perhaps it would be best if we took them to Kirk—
maybe form an alliance between us and Walden,” answered
Russell as he turned back to the three. “At least then we’d have
a fairly large swathe to trade resources.”
“If the raiders don’t kill us before we get there,” pointed
out Adrienne.
This caught Abigail’s attention. “What raiders?”
“Gangs—some members old, some young—gone
feral,” answered Adrienne, shaking her head. “Nothing
organized, or large, but annoying and still dangerous all the
same. If I had to guess, they’re one of the criminal groups the
city has had issues with off and on over the years. Only now
with nothing organized to stop them they run wild though the
city and the area.”
“And thankfully not far enough to penetrate into Long
Lake,” said Russell. “Enough to keep us on our toes but the
community has never been threatened.”
“But you two still keep a close eye on it all so Long Lake
can get enough warning if they decide to push farther, right?”
asked Emilie.
Russell nodded and he led the three back up to the road
towards the overpass which once served as the turning point
to head into either Sudbury—or towards Long Lake. While he
wished the three could stay in Long Lake, he understood why
they felt driven to find his other brother.
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34
Not that I’d wouldn’t like to know for myself, too, Russell
paused to watch the others walk ahead of him. I would, and I
do—I’ve already lost one brother. Not about to lose another…
As they came down the last hill it was Adrienne and
Abigail who noticed something was not right.
A large encampment had been set up underneath the
over pass and there was no way to pass around, or over it,
without being noticed. “What do you make of this?” asked
Emilie.
Russell shook his head. This was new to them and it
looked like it had only been there a day or so at most. He and
Adrienne usually included this as their regular patrol it had not
been there the last time they had been through. It did not look
like a raiding party and instead it looked far more like a
settlement, or some other roving group.
“Let’s just… wait this one out,” David suggested,
looking over at the other two with him. “It could be likely
Naughton all over again… or it could be like Lively. We won’t
know until we wander in and I’d rather scope this out a bit
more before we do.”
I wonder what happened to make you hold back? There
could only be one conclusion. David and his people could have
only run across a similar situation and nearly not walked back
out of it again.
“How things have changed,” he mused. “Now we
come across an apparent settlement and we’re not sure how to
proceed.”
David grunted in agreement, but the decision was taken
from them when screams and the sharp retorts of gunfire filled
the air. “Raiders!” shouted Adrienne as she pointed.
David looked over at the other two, and they nodded
their agreement as they pulled out their weapons and prepared
them. “I’m not leaving a group of innocent people
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undefended… you can come or you can stay!” he yelled back
as he ran towards the bridge.
Russell hesitated, but Adrienne was already ahead of all
of them. “Shit…” muttered Russell as he ran to keep up the
pace as the others now had a head start.
* * * * *
Deja-vu was never pleasant and in this case it was
particularly unwelcome. As she walked into her clinic she saw
Marissa trying to help her husband take his shirt off while he
struggled not to shout or swear at the pain he was obviously
in.
Sheridan could have sworn less than four months ago
this very scene had played out before her after Abigail had
pulled Derek out of a flooded barn before it was swept away
by the current of the river.
Once they had taken him back to the manor from the
barn, and in this very bed, he had lain between life and death
as a fever, and pneumonia, had ravaged his body.
Back then she had been unsure of his survival and while
she was glad this time he was awake, and healthy, enough to
protest she would have rather not repeated seeing him in her
clinic outside of perhaps being there for a yearly checkup.
Terrence stopped right behind her and in the doorway.
“Let me know how he is,” he said quietly as he pulled her
aside. “We can wait for what he wants to tell us. His health
comes first.”
“Of course it does,” she answered as she quirked an
eyebrow up. “If you thought I was going to let you and your
‘war council’ anywhere near my godfather until I was done—
to my satisfaction—checking him over you had another thing
coming anyway.”
Terrence snorted. “I don’t doubt it.”
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36
Sheridan patted his arm. “I’ll let you know how this
goes and if he’s in any shape to share what he learnt.”
Terrence nodded and then left them alone. Sheridan
turned back and stepped all the way into the room so she could
be seen. The minute Derek saw her he looked down and the
first thing to come out of his mouth was, “Shit.”
“Oh come on, you knew the minute you were brought
in here I would immediately be informed of your injuries. I
might have other duties now but this is still my clinic,” she
pointed out gently as she helped Marissa get the shirt off.
Sheridan winced as she gently examined the burns. “I could
have cut the damn shirt off, you know. It would have been less
painful.”
“Shirts aren’t exactly easy to come by now,” answered
Derek ruefully.
“They might not be easy but we can manage just fine,”
answered Sheridan, lifting her eyebrows. “They just might not
have the modern cut you’re used to.”
Derek held himself as still as possible as Sheridan
cleaned his back. He knew she was being as gentle as possible
but each little poke and prod sent white hot needles right into
his ribs. Abruptly she stopped and moved around so he could
see her. “Reese, could you leave us for a moment?” asked
Sheridan.
For a moment Marissa looked like she was going to
argue but their goddaughter was in her ‘doctor’ mode and
while it had been worded as a question she had no doubt it was
not. Finally, Marissa nodded and left the small room. “Okay,
how bad is it if you sent my wife outside?” asked Derek,
suddenly more than slightly worried.
“Oh, not bad,” answered Sheridan honestly. “Again,
with rest and not pushing yourself I expect you’ll recover just
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37
fine. You may, however, have a bit of scarring on your back but
it shouldn’t be too noticeable.”
“So… why did you send Reese outside again?” asked
Derek, puzzled.
“Because I know you,” she answered. “And I know how
you handle pain. You’re almost ready to pass out from it, or
possibly cry, but if Reese is in here you’ll do neither. And,
honestly, if you’re out this is easier on both of us. You won’t
feel it and you’ll be nice and still for me.”
He laid back down on the mattress of the clinic bed
while rolling onto his front and leaned his head on his arms.
“Doesn’t surprise me. Your friend in Lively didn’t think I
should leave.”
“My friend…?”
“Dr. Assad.”
For a moment Sheridan was quiet but then she asked,
and he could hear the relief in her voice. “He’s still alive?”
“Yep,” answered Derek.
“Good,” answered Sheridan. “You didn’t answer my
question.”
“Do what you have to,” he answered finally. “So long
as it takes the heat out of my back.”
He heard Sheridan rummaging behind him and the
sudden coolness, and lack of pain, on his back was a physical
shock. For a long moment all he could do was lay there and
wait for the sparkles in front of his eyes to fade as he pushed
his forehead down into the mattress and forced himself to take
deep breaths. It was a strange dichotomy of sensations. Both
relief and intense, sudden, stabbing pain. The pain faded and
was then replaced by simply numb.
“That’s better,” he breathed finally, wiping hot tears
from his face.
“If it’s any consolation you didn’t scream,” mentioned
Sheridan quietly.
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38
“Not really,” he answered, and then, to replace the
digging and poking, the even stranger realization she was still
doing something to his back but he could not, at all, feel it.
Bone numbing tiredness swept over him again like it had
outside when they first arrived. “You wouldn’t mind if I took
a nap while you did this, would you?”
A chuckle met his question. “No, of course not. I’m
rather expecting you might. You probably haven’t slept
properly since this happened…” Sheridan looked over at his
face when he failed to even twitch in response. “But you’re
doing a fine job of it now.”
* * * * *
So little had changed at the University since the
government vanished she would never have noticed the
difference. It felt the same as it always had but for a few
distinct changes. Many of the students would never see home
again and this troubled the young woman. She was, unlike
them, fortunate as her home still remained up the road on the
shore of Lake Ramsey where it had always been. At least I still
have my family…
…Or I did until Dad died, and my sister devoted herself to
Dr. Robert Kaine, she thought as her lips curled and she crinkled
her brows.
Niala found herself at odds with her sister much of the
time now or, even worse, left to her own devices. She barely
noticed the difference as she was still a student and this meant
there was plenty of tasks to keep her busy in the labs with the
others.
Perhaps the biggest change was the inclusion of
everything close to the University into one larger community.
In turn this made the main office buildings more and more like
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39
the former City Hall every day. The Mayor of what was left of
Sudbury, and the survivors of the city police, had even taken
up residence.
Or, on second thought… my life is a mess now, she mused
as she let herself slide into a slouch. “A student? Ha, if so,
where?”
While it still felt more scholarly than City Hall the
addition of Valeria Piacentini into the council leading the
University altered everything. Their city within the city had
become the last of the city… period.
But, despite Mayor Piacentini being here it still seemed
Kaine led the University and the Mayor was little more than an
advisor. It was another upheaval of her life. Once more
everything had changed as if someone had tossed a coin in the
air just to see where it would land.
Niala turned and walked back up the stairs to the main
buildings to a stone balcony overlooking the lake. The view
here was spectacular and on a clear day she could see across
the lake, the other shore and even part of the city itself. But
instead of bringing her peace, the dark buildings beyond the
far shore only served to remind her of how her safe little world
had crumbled.
She wrapped the over-sized shawl around herself even
tighter. Although the first spring buds on the trees were now
opening into summer’s first full leaves the nights were still cool
enough for her breath to frost the air. Night did not bring the
same deadly chill but it was enough to make her shiver as the
last light of the sun sank below the grey mountain to the west.
Normally the stress of picking next year’s courses and
final exams would have driven the students into an uproar
leaving professors and teaching assistants scrambling to catch
up. Prospective students would have flooded the campus for
tours… with their parent’s cars crowding the parking lots.
But not this year.
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40
If my life hasn’t changed, then where are the cars? Where are
all the new students for next year—and their ‘rents’—for the campus
tours? Those same lots sat empty but for the few, now
abandoned, cars from those caught here during the winter.
Without the prospective students the entire campus drifted
without purpose as no one knew what to do about exams, or if
there was even a point.
After all, who would they report their results to but
themselves? There was no more governing body, no greater
college in which to send results. No financial institution for
those requiring loans or grants. All my years of striving… gone.
Wasted. And for what? Niala rubbed her arms as she stared
down the cliff. “Nothing! It was all for nothing!”
Her own voice rebounded back from the emptiness as
no answer came from the echoes.
The vacant city only punctuated her despair. Niala
drew her legs up as she hugged them against her chest and let
her head rest against her knees. She refused to cry but the cold
fingers of loneliness ignored her wishes by dragging the sobs
out of her.
Just one more reminder of how she was no longer in
control of her own destiny.
* * * * *
Marissa pushed herself off of the wall she was leaning
on when Sheridan came out of the examining room, pulling the
divider shut.
“How bad is it?” asked Terrence.
“He’s sleeping—and I’d rather he stays asleep for the
time being,” Sheridan answered, motioning for them to keep
their voices down. “It’s not nearly as bad as I thought.”
Marissa let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”
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41
“What exactly did happen out there?” asked Sheridan.
“More than we expected,” she answered. “Far more
than any of us…” She looked over at Terrence. “Except for him,
anyway—expected.”
Terrence snorted with laughter while Sheridan tried not
to smile. It was well known that Terrence, more than anyone,
always expected the worst. Sheridan turned to Marissa, after
glaring at her own husband. “I know you and Derek don’t
want to repeat yourselves but I need to know what happened
before anyone else. Only what would affect his health. Any
risks he took…”
Marissa looked up at the ceiling and then at Sheridan.
“Where would you like me to start?”
“Beginning.”
“Well, he did blow up the bridges at Lively with him
apparently not only still within the blast radius but also under
them.”
“He did what?!” exclaimed Sheridan and then she
winced, poking her head around the divider but Derek never
even twitched a muscle. “How is he… how did he even survive
that?”
Marissa shook her head. “Given the past six months I
am beginning to think he sat on something the last time your
farrier was through.”
Sheridan bit back a laugh. “You’d wonder.” With a sigh
she turned serious again. “Okay, is there anything else I should
know?”
“No, that’s pretty much it. Other than getting caught in
a rain storm up river from here on the way there, but he seemed
okay. No sign of the issues he had with pneumonia. We had a
few days of nothing but resting anyway, and then it was a
leisurely trip by river and lake to Naughton,” answered
Marissa. “No, the bridge was the straw. He decided to turn
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42
back after he healed up enough to move around and he wasn’t
in the mood to stick around.”
“We felt the blast from here,” mused Terrence. “I’d say
it was maybe a week and a few days at most. He wouldn’t have
had enough time to really recover.”
“Which means he’s going to be doing so now,” said
Sheridan.
“Why do I sense a rather large ‘but’ here?” asked
Marissa, lifting a brow.
Sheridan laid a hand on Marissa’s arm. “Oh, he’ll be up
and doing fine again afterwards. The trick will be keeping him
down long enough to heal,” Sheridan sighed. “I really wish Em
had come back with you. She's supposed to be my head nurse.
If she doesn’t come back, I’ll have to find another one for the
time being.”
Marissa paused for a second and then asked, “Gina said
you were the ‘Queen of Walden’ when we met her on the road.
When did this happen?”
Sheridan shook her head and smiled. “You were there
when it happened, or are you referring to the growth of our
territory?”
“The rather substantial and quick growth,” answered
Marissa.
“It was either that or let people starve. I didn’t think
they would run to us when we organized. I thought we’d
encounter more resistance but everyone so far—outside of
raiders—has rallied beneath our banner… So to speak,”
Sheridan looked at Marissa again. “Terrence is in his element.
Me… I’m not so sure but I will do what I can to keep everyone
safe, fed and properly cared for. I have been researching
possibilities and substitutes for many of our modern medicines
while you and the others were on the expedition. I can, to some
extent, replace and recreate the heavier prescriptions but,
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43
frankly, I don’t have a lab which means the method of
delivering said drugs will be a bit different.”
“I’m guessing you mean Derek gets to test this, right?”
asked Marissa.
“As in he probably won’t like how things taste or smell
for a while, yes,” she answered. “But if he grins and bears it life
will be a bit more comfortable. Even if we can scavenge for the
next few years, the problem is prescription medication has as
restrictive an expiration date as the herbals. Using them past
this date makes their effects unpredictable, or ineffective, at
best… deadly at worst. But, that’s not the point here. You need
me to tell you what my plan of action is for helping your
husband recover from this latest incident he involved himself
in.”
“You’re right about the scavenging issue,” said Marissa.
“But, yes, let’s talk about Derek.”
Sheridan looked over at Terrence and pointed to the
outer door leading to the main hall. “Ah, I guess this is where
I leave you two ladies to talk about things I’d rather not be in
on,” he realized, and Sheridan nodded.
Only after he left did Sheridan drop her arm and she
stared at Marissa for a moment.
“Derek’s damn lucky it wasn’t worse,” Sheridan said.
“First things first, the burns. They appear to be minor for the
most part, except for one spot on his neck which looks like a
second degree burn, but Marek did a great job of treating it.
The first degree burns are little more than serious sun burns,
with all the discomfort that implies. I raided my aloe and
chamomile stores to make a soothing cream to stretch out what
I already had on hand in the barn—sun burns are actually kind
of common here with the horses.”
Marissa let out a breath. “That’s not so bad.”
“It’s the second degree burn that we have to keep an eye
on. There’s a bit of blistering and, of course, the risk of
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44
infection. Marek…” Sheridan paused once aware of Marissa’s
puzzlement. She then continued, “Dr. Assad, sorry—did a
wonderful job of first response and then in treating him. Mind
you, Derek did mess it up a bit by choosing to leave Lively
before he was completely healed, but I’ve cleaned it up and he
should be fine. That’s not to say it won’t be painful—which
leads to my original problem of not having the same resources
for either keeping it free of infection or for pain management.”
“I’m sure you’ll do the best you can for him,” pointed
out Marissa.
Sheridan nodded and before looking Marissa in the
eyes. “As well, and as much, as I can.”
“So, what else aren’t you telling me?” asked Marissa.
“Well, that’s the surface, literally. He has some
movement in his ribs where he shouldn’t, and rigidity where
he also shouldn’t. This tells me he has a broken rib—or at least
a cracked one—and he also has some internal injuries,”
answered Sheridan. “I also noticed hearing damage to one side
and I suspect he’s deaf in his left ear now. There’s a bit of
bruising on and around his head, neck and back—which with
what you’ve told me is consistent with what he survived—but
it also tells me he has a concussion and some bruising, as well
as joint and cartilage injuries. I’m trying to figure out how in
the hell he managed to climb onto the back of a horse and then
ride back here like that.”
“He wanted to be someplace a bit more familiar and
comfortable was his explanation. I don’t blame him and I
wasn’t about to let him head back here on his own.”
“Well, at least he waited until he was a bit better. I get
the feeling he was in worse shape before he decided to travel
back here,” mused Sheridan.
“He was,” agreed Marissa.
Sheridan sighed and then stretched her arms.
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“Well, here’s the plan. He needs to just rest,” began
Sheridan, as she listed each condition on one of her fingers.
“He can move around all he wants inside the house. I’d rather
him not risk the stairs more than he has to—so I am strongly
recommending he stay upstairs. There’s the library up there
too, if he gets bored of your rooms. No heavy lifting—and no
riding until I feel better about what’s going on inside him.”
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46
CHAPTER FOUR
The minute Derek rolled over onto his back he instantly
regretted it. It felt like someone had just raked him over with
hot coals and then left them on his back. Rolling back onto his
side he tried to catch his breath.
“Easy,” came Sheridan’s voice from somewhere behind
him, and he felt her catch him and roll him back onto his right
side where it did not hurt nearly as much as laying on his left,
or his back. “I’d imagine breathing, and laying on your back,
is probably painful now you’ve had a chance to let everything
catch up with you.”
“You have no idea,” he answered, closing his eyes again
and letting his head sink into the pillows under his head. “I
think I hurt worse than I did when I first crawled out from
under that damn bridge.”
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47
He could almost hear Sheridan’s eyebrows rising and
the question forming in her mind. “Dare I ask?”
“You don’t want to,” he chuckled, finally managing to
convince his own body to move and let him sit up.
Sheridan moved around to the side of the cot so he did
not have to twist himself around, moving her chair with her as
she did, to sit on it backwards using the back of the chair to
lean her arms on while she talked to him.
“But I have to, if I’m to make sure you recover from this
properly,” she answered. “The question is; do you want to
know what I’ve discovered?”
“No, but I’m going to need to know anyway.”
“Well, you have internal injuries. What exactly I can’t
tell without some sort of scanner—which unfortunately I don’t
have out here outside of what Karen has to work with in the
barn for the horses,” she answered thoughtfully. “Which, all
things considered—vet use or not—is still better than nothing.”
Derek turned slightly and asked, curiously, “What does
she have out there?”
“An ultrasound,” answered Sheridan. “Minor
procedural suite. Nothing like what you’re picturing. But a bit
fancier than what would be in the typical barn. She ran her
practise out of the main barn. For more intensive surgeries she
had to use the suite in Chelmsford.”
“But enough to check me out, right?” he asked. “That’s
basically what you’re saying.”
She nodded. “It would at least give us an idea of what
we’re looking at. However…” She paused again and then took
a breath. “You have a cracked rib very close to where those
injuries are. Given the nature of an ultrasound it means, at best,
it will be extremely painful. At worst we could do more
damage if the rib shifts wrong.”
He sighed, and winced. She was right. His ribs were
sore but he never realized they could be broken. In retrospect
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48
he really should have—and with this little piece of knowledge
he also knew he should have never even attempted to ride back
here from Lively until Dr. Assad had been thoroughly satisfied
with his recovery. Lively did have the facilities in the clinic to
treat more complex cases, including an x-ray and ultrasound
meant for humans.
Granted, without electricity they were useless.
Another sigh escaped him. “What can you do without
resorting to it?”
“Plenty,” she admitted. “But those are intrusive. More
so than when you had pneumonia. I will have to monitor your
output, and your input, very closely and also monitor how well
the rigidity fades… and you will be well aware of everything
unlike when you were half out of it with fever. You will also
need to rest and I’m going to limit your mobility to the upper
floor, if you want to stay in your own room. If you’d rather
have access to down here, then you will also be sleeping down
here.”
“And my burns?” he asked.
“Surprisingly minor but I will have to regularly change
your bandages and watch for infection. Most of it is no worse
than a severe sunburn—complete with the same discomfort.
One patch is nearly second degree but with further
examination is still only first degree… barely,” she answered.
“Treatment will be the same. Cooling ointment to alleviate
pain and discomfort, and to prevent infection, peeling and
scarring.” Sheridan tilted her head to the side. “It was my
understanding the explosion you were caught in did not have
very much in the way of pyrotechnics. I am curious to know
where the burns came from.”
“There were a few cars nearby,” he answered blithely.
“A few?” she mused. “In a time where gas and oil are
scarce, if not non-existent, and you happen to find a few cars
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with just enough gas in them to actually explode. So, the
question you so neatly avoided; upstairs or downstairs?”
Derek sighed. Once Sheridan was in her ‘doctor’ mode
she was like a bloodhound when it came to answers. She would
only be satisfied once they had settled on a plan and then some
way to follow through. She took her duty as chief medical
practitioner dead seriously. This was a good thing, if he were
honest, even if it meant she would likely be butting into his
privacy far more than he would like.
With a sigh he decided, and then answered, “Upstairs.
If I have to do this I’d rather it be in the comfortable bed you
have in Marissa and I’s room.”
She grinned. “I rather suspected as much.”
“How long will I be stuck upstairs?” he asked, dreading
her answer but having a distinct feeling it would be far longer
than he really wanted.
“Well, a few weeks, give or take…”
He felt his mouth drop open. “Weeks?” he asked, his
voice rising in shock and dismay. “Not days, or it could be a
week but after I can start moving around inside the house…
but hey, at least I could come downstairs every so often?”
She shook her head. “Much as I know you will go
probably go bonkers and start climbing walls up there it’s…
well… I have some serious concerns and having you not move
around as much as possible will help you heal without further
complication.”
“Like what?” he asked.
Her pointed stare was more an answer but he knew,
especially since she was a surgeon on top of being a general
practitioner, she would be quite explicit in her forthcoming
explanation.
“Honestly?” she asked as she leaned back, crossing her
arms in a gesture he’d come to recognize as one of thought
before looking at him again. “I highly suspect, given the degree
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50
of burns and what I am feeling—and where it is located—you
have a splenic rupture, which is a serious problem. It can heal
on its own but only if we’re damn careful. However, there is a
good chance that it may have to be treated with surgery and if
that’s the case… well… the risks to performing a surgery are
very high considering our present situation. The best way to
avoid it would be to rest and let your body heal. Move around
just enough to prevent losing muscle mass and integrity, but—
until I’m satisfied with your progress—the best thing is full bed
rest for a full week, perhaps even two.”
“Okay, you lost me at ‘surgery’,” he admitted, and he
let this sink in. “I think you’ve scared me enough into staying
at least near a bed. How in hell… if it came to that point…
would you even be able to perform a surgery here?”
She licked her lips and stared at him. Derek suddenly
realized why she was letting him come to his own conclusion.
The first problem was everything in Karen’s vet suite was
meant for horses and not humans. The second problem was, if
surgery was needed, would be finding a large enough supply
of fluids—either by way of blood or its surgical substitute—to
keep him from going into shock from blood loss during the
surgery. This was only the tip of the iceberg in problems. They
also had to think about chances of infection, pain
management…
“Oh.”
Sheridan nodded at his realization. “Yeah, oh would
sum it up.”
“You’re a brilliant surgeon—” he began, then broke off
again. “What about a MASH unit like on TV? It’s not
completely impossible. Hopefully you won’t have to on me but
on the subject of surgery eventually there will come a time
when you may have to on someone else…”
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“I run into the problem of reliable anaesthesia and a
qualified anaesthesiologist. Yes, while Karen is also qualified
to do it in a pinch, as is Emilie, every time we remove a
specialist or something out of the equation the iffier the
situation becomes. The risks begin to spiral out of control,” she
answered, and then shrugged. “If push came to shove and a
situation was ‘do or the patient would die without’ I’d attempt
it and fight my hardest for them but realistically—while no
situation is ideal when it comes to surgery of any kind—their
chances would not be great. Better than if I did not, yes, but not
great. Even if they pulled through the risk of infection—even if
everything was perfectly clean we are basically sticking
something inside of them and exposing their internal structure
to the open air—is far greater and we also do not have the same
access to immune boosting drugs or antibiotics.”
“Which is why you’re not keen to risk it with me,” he
realized. “Unless all else fails. But if we’re careful, as you said,
you minimize having to risk it.”
She nodded. “Precisely.”
“All right,” he nodded as he lay on his side again—the
least injured side. “I don’t want to put you in that position of
having to risk it so we’ll do it your way.”
With a grin, Sheridan patted his knee. “Glad you saw it
my way.”
“Oh, it wasn’t only you—more Reese stringing me up
by my toenails over our balcony if I didn’t.”
* * * * *
While others would always maintain the best place to
realise see the personality behind a person was in their
bathroom—or bedroom—Aidan had always seen someone’s
true colours in their kitchen. In most cultures, the kitchen was
the centre of the home and, therefore, the heart of the family.
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52
Seeing the kitchen drove home the impression of this
family living the principle in everything they breathed, ate and
drank.
It was central to the open concept great room. When he
looked up he realised the great room was open to the second
floor breezeway.
This space was the home’s real heart and real centre. It
was warm, inviting and organic. No detail had been spared in
its design but at the same time it was sleek and easy to
navigate.
Meant for someone who spent a great deal of time here
both cooking and entertaining.
He instantly felt more at home here than he had in his
own apartment.
Naturally, a house matriarch still ruled the Manor but
he had no problem negotiating with the older lady—nor even
acting as her second when she put him to work. “It’ll be nice
to have someone in here who knows what they’re doing and
like it,” said Lorraine as she walked him through the pantry
and kitchen. “Unfortunately, much of the function was lost
when the main power went out, but we’ve managed to work
around it. This was the main kitchen but now it’s more or less
the winter kitchen with the summer one out on the deck.”
“What do you use to cook?” He asked. “I don’t see a
natural gas stove.”
“Sheridan was never a fan of them. Neither am I,
really,” answered Lorraine. “I don’t like her choice either, but
I lived with it. Granted, since we got the solar panels on the
roof working the electric stove works well. We just have to
watch how much we use and when we use it. Can’t run too
much at once, either. Twice a day we cycle through everything
so we have hot water, power to cook and keep the fridges and
freezers cold and doing their job. Otherwise, we use the hearth
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over there for anything needing to be slow-cooked or, even,
one of the pits outside. Terrence loves a good old-fashioned
barbecue, but, again, Sheridan was afraid he’d end up doing
something stupid and blowing himself up so she had a stone
pit built using firewood or wood embers, charcoal, that sort of
thing.”
Aidan snorted in amusement. “They like things on the
old-fashioned side. I saw the armour—and the house gives it
away.”
“They were part of this club which explored the history
of the middle ages—right up to and including living the part,”
replied Lorraine. “You should see some of the dresses she
made when she first started. She won a few awards for them –
I think. Dunno, never followed it closely. I lived through my
own time and never really wanted to see it return. But, lo and
behold, I’m right back to my girlhood! She made the tapestry
on the wall, too.”
Aidan looked back over to the tapestry that had caught
his attention when he first walked into the house. “She made
that?” He asked as he inspected the embroidery.
“By hand,” confirmed Lorraine. “Took her a few years
and she’s still not done with it. Occasionally, she’ll fill in a
detail here and there. Outside of reading, it’s her way of
relaxing.”
The precise stitching was exactly what he’d expected
from a surgeon but the artistry surprised him. “What will she
do for thread now?”
Lorraine sighed. “I don’t know, actually. Same as
everything else, I guess. We’ll have to figure it out or scavenge
it.”
Francis walked into the room and nodded at Lorraine
before turning to Aidan. “Hey, kid, you want to stay here or
do you want to see some more of the great Canadian
wilderness by truck?”
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54
He looked up sharply. “Why would I want to do that?”
Francis shrugged. “I don’t know. Sheridan asked me
to go with Derek, and anyone else he’s picked, to a place called
High Falls. You’re invited if you want to go.”
Aidan grinned. “You mean you could use my cooking
skills so you don’t have to eat the crap you call cooking.”
“Well,” Francis thought for a moment. “There’s that,
but you also have a fair hand in surviving in the wilderness
with the kit I saw in your stuff. So?”
Lorraine chuckled. “Go on, if you want to, the kitchen’s
not going anywhere.”
With a nod, Aidan said, “Let me pack what I need.”
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CHAPTER FIVE
All those people… the young reservist knew with spring
rapidly giving way to early summer the stench of death in the
core of the city would permeate the air. Just behind him stood
Colonel Harnet and he claimed it once ousted from City Hall.
Instead of allowing the reservists to continue searching for
survivors and helping them he had ordered them to abandon
the rest of the city and concentrate on their own survival. It
doesn’t seem right. We should’ve done what we could.
“It looks like this may become another swamp,”
pointed out one of the local reservists as she stared at the
sluggish water behind the armoury. “Junction Creek runs
under City Hall, and the downtown core. If anything happened
to the infrastructure above, it’s now dammed up and likely
turning the whole area into a small lake.”
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56
Harnet sighed and the reservist suspected the Colonel
knew why the creek no longer followed its old path. No doubt
this caused the Mayor and her people to finally abandon City Hall,
mused the reservist. He could see the ruins without going far
from the armoury. “Perhaps once it breaks the limits of the
rubble it will flow back this way, but it could take years,”
Harnet said as he ran a hand through his hair. “Enough of this.
I am returning to our base.”
“You don’t want me to take care of the blockage?” asked
the young reservist, confused.
“Leave it,” he answered. “You have more important
things to worry about than fixing something which will fix
itself given enough time.”
“Yes sir,” the younger man saluted as Harnet turned
and walked away.
Once Harnet was out of sight he turned to the other
reservists as they walked up to him. “I take it he doesn’t give a
shit what happens to the creek?” she asked.
“Not one bit,” he answered. “Told us to leave it and said
we have more important things to worry about. Unfortunately,
I have no idea what he means.”
The other two looked at each other in confusion before
turning to their friend. “Odd,” said the second one. “We don’t
actually have anything else to watch. Whatever the issue was
downtown has settled. We have the resources to roll in, take
care of the dam blocking it up and restore the creek back to its
original path. It wouldn’t take long either.”
The first reservist shook his head. Why am I not surprised?
he thought. First it’s ordering us to kill the Mayor. Then he had us
abandon the survivors. And now this… “Remember that radio
conversation with ‘Kaine’?” he asked.
“Yeah, it was odd—unfriendly… and weird,” she
answered. “Got the feeling there’s some serious history there,
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especially since it was the Colonel who cut him off. I take it
there’s been no attempt by either side to come to some sort of
an agreement?”
He shook his head as he sat down on the bench. “I’d
give anything for things to just go back to normal.”
His partner remained quiet as she looked away and
over to the quiet downtown core. “I miss my family,” said the
third finally, and the first reservist sighed and kicked a rock
near his foot.
“I do, too,” he admitted.
* * * * *
What the three young reservists conjectured hardly
concerned Colonel Harnet so long as they continued to
follow his lead and guard what he told them to guard. So far
they did just as he ordered but he could tell the locals were
growing a bit restless and suspicious of him, his motives and
perhaps his authority.
This was truly regrettable as if he had to kill them to
make an example of what would happen when they
disobeyed—his grip on anyone else local would erode.
If only they followed his lead as easily as those he
brought with him.
As the truck rolled into the hospital parking lot, he
spared a glance down the hill into the wetlands below, and
beyond them the other, and much newer, hospital. Past this far
bigger facility lay an even better prize but Kaine, another
retired Colonel like he was, held it and he had the support of
the legally voted in Mayor of Sudbury.
He needed to somehow erode this grip—or win some
ground. “Lieutenant,” he called as he looked across the marsh
down in the valley.
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“Yes sir?” asked one of his trusted circle as he walked
up.
“Any sign of activity down there?” he asked.
“Not any more than when you were last here,” came an
answer, surprisingly from a completely different person.
Harnet turned to the other man in all of Sudbury to bear
the name ‘Kaine’, and perhaps the only other who could
understand Dr. Kaine. Or, at least guess his next move since
the two were brothers even if an entire world and way of
thinking apart. Dr. Robert Kaine was a scientist and a man of
science. Logic and reason were his weapons and he used them
well.
On the other hand, his brother was a man of faith—as
was a few others in the area as well as his own people—but
sometimes logic failed in regards to this particular branch.
Actually, come to think of it, logic usually did fail.
Harnet sighed at this. It was not as if he did not have his own
faith, as he did, but sometimes the more fundamental churches
left even him baffled.
So it was with this Kaine, his religion and skewed view
of the world.
Harnet found him more than a little frustrating to deal
with and it brought to mind something his father always said
regarding the fanatical type. The only thing predictable was
just how unpredictable they could be.
“And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” asked
Harnet, his voice barely hiding his distaste for Jason Kaine.
Jason looked down on the hospital below and asked,
“The fact you ask if there was any sign of activity tells me you
are considering an attempt to take the hospital by force. I
strongly suggest against it—too many good lives would be lost
for no good reason.”
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“Dare I ask what you would suggest instead?” asked
Harnet.
“Sometimes negotiations are called for,” answered
Jason. “And, given the circumstances and the death already
brought upon us in these trying times I think the Lord would
prefer you preserved what few remain on his green Earth.”
“And if that fails?” asked Harnet. “Shall I turn the other
cheek and hope one day they will let me in?”
“If that is how it should be, then yes,” answered Jason,
ignoring the sarcasm or the laughter from behind him from
Harnet’s people. “Perhaps, in time, they will come around and
realize the error of their own ways—in time they, too, will
realize we are all in this together.”
With a heavy sigh of long suffering, Harnet asked, “Did
it ever occur to you that’s exactly what I’m trying to achieve?
And these ‘lost sheep’ are naught but wolves in sheep’s
clothing preventing your innocent children, your ‘Lord’s
flock’, from getting the help they need?”
Kaine drew himself up to his full height which was not
equal to Harnet’s height—and he was by no means a tall man
either —and suddenly realized he might have just pushed the
man too far.
“I have seen no such thing to support your claim. If
anything all I have seen is your own barbarism in some
misguided effort to take what the Lord never gave you to take
in the first place. Remember, in the same way Eve was led
astray by the same forbidden…”
Jason Kaine found himself knocked backward and onto
the ground to wipe away a small trail of blood from his nose
and chin. The sudden shock of pain and the blood now on his
hands made him dizzy but he was alert enough to watch
Harnet continue to whirl around—not even seeming to notice
the blood on his knuckles—on him to hiss, “Mind your words,
preacher, because not everyone here wants to hear your drivel
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and if you push me I don’t care how useful you are in regards
to your brother I will throw you off the cliff into the wetlands
below for the dogs to rip apart. Do I make myself clear?”
Jason nodded wordlessly and, hearing this last,
suddenly realized the real reason he had been kept alive.
His damned fool brother would be mixed up in this.
* * * * *
The survivors beneath the bridge built their ramshackle
town out of bits of scrap from ruined houses and what camping
equipment they could find. Any finer details passed through
his mind but failed to sink in as David ran. He caught the
screams of children and others and he spun towards the din.
The raiders did not have guns but instead used
scavenged bits from the ruins of houses and cars.
Anything sharp, or with enough weight to do
damage… or even both… fit.
David heard the thunder snap of Russell firing his rifle
from the bridge above. The dull wet thud of a bullet sinking
into flesh made him wince. He had heard it before but it was
something he never could get used to. Not that he wanted to—
it reminded him he was still human.
“Guns!” yelled one of the raiders.
“Find the shooter! Overpower the bastard and then
we’ll have the guns!” came the shouted order from in the
shanties and to his left.
David veered left and jumped back but strips fell off of
what he wore over his armour from the raider’s blade. “You’ve
got a gun, too,” said the raider as he grinned.
“And there’s no cruiser and lock-up to take you to,”
pointed out David.
The raider smirked. “I thought I smelled bacon.”
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Breathing through his nose he pinned the raider to the
wall with one arm, his sidearm digging into the raider’s rib
cage. “You’re the pig here, raider, and I’m not letting you past
me.”
The raider twisted in his grip. David felt the slight
waffle of air as the blade arced down mere inches by his hand.
Without hesitation he tackled the raider. They crashed
through the side of the precarious shack leaning against the
concrete supports. Dust and bits of wood rained down on
them. David deflected a punch but failed to prevent a knee to
his side. With a grunt, he tangled the raider’s arm to prevent
him from continuing to swing the blade and his gun slipped
out of his hand.
Cold fear threaded through David’s body. He
remembered it being in his hand before he tackled the raider
and with a glance he saw it not too far away.
Unfortunately, he was not the only one to spot it.
Another raider picked it up tried to aim it at him. The
tussle between him and the raider was not giving the other a
clear line to David.
The raider twisted in his grip again and rolled
underneath him. David held his breath. When he heard a gun
fire he braced himself and hoped his own armour would take
the specialized ammunition from his own gun.
The impact never came, but, as he managed to wrestle
the raider over, in the corner of his eye, he saw why.
Adrienne stood over the second raider.
When did you catch up to me? he wondered. While David
used his own body weight to hold the leader of the raiding
party Adrienne found a short length of rope and a few zip ties
to tie him up. Adrienne pointed at the raider and said, “Don’t
even think about moving from this spot.”
While gagged there was not much he could do but
scream through the gag.
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David and Adrienne stepped back through the hole,
and he retrieved his sidearm from the dead raider outside as
he looked around.
There was still fighting going on all around them. With
the main leader of the raiders taken out the others seemed less
organized but no less determined to take what was in the town.
“You see Russell?” asked Adrienne.
“No, was a little busy,” he answered.
Gunshots from a hunting rifle up near the top of the
bridge crackled overhead again, as did shouts. “I think I know
where he is,” said David and he turned in a full circle to get his
bearings.
The two moved up to the supports of the bridge where
David thought Russell was as he raiders retreated back into the
city where they came from. Bodies of raiders littered the
ground. Thank God, thought David. Doesn’t appear to be any of
the civilians among the dead.
Russell climbed down and stopped, surprised to see
them. “Are you all right?” he asked, noting the blood on
David’s face.
“I’m fine,” he answered, and he clapped Adrienne’s
shoulder. “Thanks to her. I’d be dead if she hadn’t caught up
to me when she did.”