Home at Last
Hannah Slattery was tired. No other word for it. Just tired. Her mom had died 6 months before in an attack led by the Immunes. Since than she had been alone, taking care of her younger story Emma. Hannah and Emma had been on the move since the attack, avoiding the Immunes. They had help from a kind, old priest and a group of nuns. That was how they ended up in St. Louis. Father Matthew and Sister Grace tried to make sure the two girls had a roof over their heads and hot food at least once a day. But Hannah would not ask for anything more. They were living on the street.
She had given up hope of her father ever returning. She knew if he was alive, he would find them. But so far, there had been no sign of him. So he must be dead. She had heard rumors of the now famous Nathan James and its crew. That they had brought the cure back, had fought the Immunes that had killed her mother, and she often wondered about how to get in touch with her Uncle Tom. Her dad and Tom were practically closer than brothers, and if Uncle Tom could help he would. But Hannah and Emma no longer had their military ID's so they would not be recognized as dependants.
It was so frigidly cold, and St. Louis was almost as cold as Norfolk in the winter. She didn't have a winter coat, and her shoes had holes in them. Emma had a good coat and shoes, that were about 3 sizes too big for her, but Hannah wanted her to have them. She was older so she would survive the cold…maybe.
As she rounded the corner around by the church that now housed Father Matthew and Sister Grace and the other nuns, Hannah started coughing. She doubled over, and when she looked at her hand, there was blood. Her nose was bleeding. Emma's eyes were as big as saucers. Being homeless had been hard on her, but Emma had never given up home of their dad finding them. Her sunny disposition would not allow for it.
"Do I need to go get Father Matthew? Maybe you need to go to the hospital?"
Between coughs, Hannah looked at her and said, "If I go to the hospital, they will call Children's Protective Services, and we will go into foster care. We will be split up. I'll be fine." And with that, Hannah passed out. Emma starting crying, not knowing what to do. There was only so much a nine year old could do.
Tom Chandler was on that city street with Ashley. She was doing a project for school helping the homeless. So, he was handing out sandwiches and coffee. Not his idea of fun. It was early November, but was already well below freezing.
He had retired from being CNO, and was actually enjoying just being a dad and with Sasha. When he was in the Navy, he would have not been able to help Ashley with her school project. It was easy, while the last year of his life was anything but. Mike had become CNO and was honestly doing an amazing job. Tom helped with some of the domestic issues that had cropped up since the Regional Leaders had been killed or jailed. Tom, Sasha, Sam and Ashley lived across from Mike. He couldn't understand why Mike had picked the four bedroom house, but he supposed it was because he couldn't give up hope that someday he would find Christine and their daughters. He wanted to be prepared. In any case, he was a built in babysitter, who never minded looking after Sam and Ashley when he and Sasha needed a night out or alone. Maybe it was because they were close in age to his own kids, and kept him smiling and hopeful.
Ashley and he walked around the corner by a church and seen a very thin girl laying on the ground with blood on her face, and a nine year old leaning over her crying. There was something very familiar about their features but he couldn't put a finger on it. In any case, he shoved Ashley behind him protectively, and then leaned down and tapped the younger girl on the shoulder.
"You girls need help? What's your names? Let me help, I won't hurt either of you, I promise."
"Uncle Tom? Is it really you? Hannah is so sick, but if we go to the hospital, they'll split us up. Mom is dead, and dad too, we think. I don't know what to do, but Hannah is going to die too."
Tom felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. The two girls were so thin, almost unrecognizable to what they use to be. Ashley made a gasping noise, and moved from where Tom had scooted her. Just then, an elderly priest come out of one of the side doors. He was the sort of person, that even of first impression, Tom instantly trusted him.
"Father Matthew, Hannah started coughing again, and her nose is bleeding, then she went to sleep. This is my daddy's friend, Uncle Tom. Him and Ashley were in the neighborhood and found us. I think Hannah is dying." Emma rambled on. Tom could tell, she was terrified but seemed to trust the old priest. It was not an ideal situation by any means, but Tom knew there was no ambulance service in St. Louis which meant he would have to leave to go get his truck, which was several blocks away.
"Oh, poor child, I think she has pneumonia, but she won't ask for help, and we can only do so much. You know their father? He's alive? He'll help? You'll help? God bless you."
"Yes Father, I will help. Yes, their dad is alive and will be thrilled. I will carry her into the church where it's a bit warmer, and will run and get my truck, she needs to go to the hospital. Do you mind watching my daughter too, while I go get it?'
"Not at all. Come on in. To God, be the glory. He must have had a plan for you and your daughter being here."
As Tom bent over and picked Hannah up, he was completely shocked at how little she weighed. The only thing he could think to say was, "I have no idea why God would allow something like this. But thank you for the help. I have just seen so much suffering, to believe that God has a plan in this."
Tom carried his very thin bundle in, and laid her down on a front pew. It didn't escape him that this was the first time in many years that he had stepped foot in a church. Emma and Ashley followed him in and sit down next to where he laid Hannah down. Ashley leaned down and felt Hannah's forehead, and looked at Tom with a very concerned look, "Dad, she's burning up. Worse than Sammy was when he had the Red Flu. She needs help fast."
Tom looked at the Father and a nun that had walked in with a blankets. "I will be back in just a moment."
Tom could have ran to the truck, probably should have, but he needed to collect his thoughts and call Mike. As he was walking he found himself uttering the first prayer that he had prayed in at least a year to a God that he wasn't sure even existed. He begged God for peace and healing for the girls and Mike.
He grabbed his phone out of his pocket, and tapped in Mike's name to call him. And got his voicemail. Shaking his head and wondering why this couldn't be easy, he left a short voicemail that he needed him to call him as quickly as possible. He didn't have the heart to tell Mike that he had literally stumbled onto his daughters, one of which was very seriously ill, and he didn't know where Christine was. After he hung up, he said a second prayer. One that Mike would check his voicemail quickly and call him back.
