" ER/Stand part 6 "
Luka looked at the catherdral ceiling in the Carter family mansion and whistled softly. He had pictured a small two story house and the palatial expensive home was not waht he had envisioned at all. The room itself was what Carter called the "family living room" which was evidently different than "the parlor", " the smoking room " and the "formal living room". It was a very nice room all things considered. The deep leather couches were comfortable and obviously expensive. The rugs were Persian. There was Steuban crystal figurines on the shelves, high up enough that little hands couldn't reach them, but still tastefully displayed. There was a bar in the corner filled with pricey cordials and excellent aged scotch. Doug had already poured himself a glass. It wasn't good, Luka thought, that the man drank so much. It was a problem that was similar to the problem they had faced earlier with the gun. There was just too much alcohol within arm's reach to keep one person away from it. He hoped that the man would get over his crisis soon. Otherwise it was going to be very difficult to deal with.
That was if he stayed with the group and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to stay. There were problems. Doug was drowning the situation in a wave of booze. Dr. Weaver, who he had seen only as a pale, sleeping woman, was not coping well. Granted, he didn't feel physically threatened by a disabled woman half his size, but it concerned him. Lucy was wounded and very young seeming. Then, there was John Carter, member of the bourgious upper class. Luka wouldn't have cared under normal, but Carter was barely functioning and had a mindset that wasn't thinking very far into the future. It also worried him that Jeanie was HIV positive. She had been very upfront about it when he had asked why so many AIDS related drugs had ended up in their medical store. It made him nervous just the same. It also made him feel awful to think that way, but it was a survival situation. He was with five people and only one of them, Randi, seemed suited to dealing with the situation. Randi, for her part, seemed very loyal to them so if he did decide to slip out, he'd be going alone. He didn't want to be alone but he wasn't sure if he wanted to be in a group of basket cases.
Basket cases is harsh, he thought as he opened the expensive imported beer that Carter had handed him moments earlier. He was probably being too pessamistic. Aside from her HIV status, Jeanie seemed to be a level headed woman. She had taken the situation in hand, despite the unpleasant, if obvious fact that her own life span was going to be cut short. It was possible that he simply wasn't seeing either Lucy or Carter at their best. They were very tired and in shock. He suspected they would be better companions with a little rest. He wasn't sure he'd go so far with Dr. Weaver, whose first name he still wasn't quite sure of, but the truth was, no one seemed very upset over the death of the army captain. From what Jeanie had describbed, if the man hadn't been killed, he would have shot them all. It wasn't normal behavior, but the man had beaten her up and threatened the lives of coworkers. It was possible that her irrationality would disappear with rest and removal from the situation. Of course, he had packed a few different psychiatric drugs just in case she didn't respond well. He had his worries about Doug, but the man had buried loved ones that morning. Did you function that well, he asked himself, when your own family died? No, you didn't. Your father had to bring you the vodka you drowned your sorrows in. At least Doug can find the bar. Maybe he'll straighten out after a few days, he thought charitably, the same way I did.
He wasn't looking to leave any time soon, either. He'd spent the last five days holed up on his dank boat waiting out the worst of the plague. He had been working at Chicago Hope as a long term ttemporary worker for a pregnant doctor on leave and when his shift had finished, he had left. The military had left Hope alone for the most part and it had been easy to evade the sick soldiers. It had been a long, lonely five days. He'd checked on a few of the people in the nearby boats but they had all died very quickly. He had barely been able to eat the last few days and his stress levels had shot through the roof. He had also been having bad dreams, nightmares really, and he was positive it was because he was alone. People had never been important to him, not since his family was killed, but now he keenly felt how alone he was. It had been a relief even to find a drunk. For a few days at least, he thought reflectively, I'm going to stay here. He suspected it would be a long time before he found a group of people, let alone a group of medical colleagues. At least we have mutual interests, he thought as he sipped his beer.
Lucy walked into the room, carrying a large tray of sandwiches and snacks. She had changed into a casual pair of shorts and a shirt. No doubt the women had stopped at their various homes or at least a store before heading to the Carter home. Probably their homes, he mused as he took in her clothes, her outfit looked nice but not brand new and he suspected that the reality of no more need to buy anything hadn't sunk in yet. She set the tray down on the small coffee table. " I made sandwiches out of the stuff that was in the fridge. It was lucky that someone turned on the emergency power in the kitchen. Everything would have spoiled otherwise." Her voice trailed off, and she took a seat on the couch opposite Luka.
He picked up a roast beef sandwich. " How is your arm?" He didn't know what else to say. He was the only stranger in the group and it felt awkward.
" I'm all right," Lucy said after a moment. Her voice was soft. " The bullet just grazed me. I guess Dr. Ross gave Dr. Weaver more stitches than what I got." She looked over at Doug. " Dr. Ross, maybe you should eat something."
Doug walked over, his glass in hand. " Lucy, my name is Doug." He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a good natured smile. " It's ok for you to call me Doug, ok?"
She nodded but Luka could see that she felt awkward. " Maybe you should eat something... Doug."
He grinned as he took a seat in one of the easy chairs. Then he took a long swallow from his drink. " In the immortal words of Kerry Weaver, no, I'm fine. Anyone have an agenda for the evening?"
Luka shrugged. He didn't know. Carter had wandered off as soon as they had gotten to the house, stating that he wanted to make sure the house was ok. Jeanie and Randi were making sure that Kerry was safely ensconced in a downstairs bedroom. He, upon dumping his rucksack into one of the other empty bedrooms, had headed for the family living room, finding it the one plaec that didn't seem loaded with breakables. He had no plans for the evening, aside from eating and sleeping. Maybe getting to know his new companions would be nice, he mused, but none of them seemed in the mood.
Lucy seemed at as muh of a loss as he. " I don't know. I'm really not in the mood to sit around the fireplace telling ghost stories." She gestured to the ornate fireplace in the far wall.
" Then I suppose no one will mind if I have another drink." Doug drank down the remains of his drink and got up. Luka could tell by Lucy's expression that she was as concerned as he was. Doug, for his part, was either oblivious or uncaring. He poured himself another generous drink of scotch.
Again it was awkward. Luka nibbled on his sandwich, wondering just what the group dynamic was. Doug had been Lucy's superior and she was uncomfortable with how the situation had changed. She also seemed rather sympathetic towards the man, and Luka wondered why. Stop analyzing, he told himself. Just watch and learn. You're the outsider here.
" Doug?" Luka turned at the sound of Jeanie's voice. She walked into the large room at a brisk pace. She looked worried, Luka realized. Not "oh dear god the house is on fire" worried, but she was concerned about something. He watched as she strode over to where Doug was standing. " What did you give Kerry? She's not very responsive. I tried to wake her up and I couldn't."
" Why would you try to wake her up?" Doug asked. He took a drink. " I gave her Haldol but only half the normal dosage for someone her size, since I had a feeling it was going to hit her hard. You did examine her?" He spoke as though it was obvious, and somehow Luka wasn't surprised when she nodded. " Then you know. So, why don't you just let her get some sleep?"
Jeanie's face took on a harsher look. " Doug, she has a head injury that you evidently didn't bother to assess, and you gave her a sedative. What were you thinking?"
" I was thinking that she was needing to be sedated. " Doug said. His tone was short, but Luka sensed a touch of regret. " You do understand that any sort of treatment that we attempt without a sterile surgical room and ICU will kill her, right? If she's got a skull fracture, it's going to heal slow, and I don't envy her the headaches. If she's got a concussion, she'll be fine in a few days. And if she does have a subdural bleed, she's going to die in the next few days. Sooner, if anyone does decide to try their hand at cut rate nuerosurgery. " He paused. " I won't try it. I don't dislike her enough to intentionally kill her."
Jeanie looked as if she was going to explode. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. " Doug, I am sorry about what I said earlier, and I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am about Carol. Both Carol and Mark. I am just concerned about the living right now, and not the dead."
" So was I when I sedated someone who was obviously a danger to herself and others." Doug grabbed the bottle he'd been pouring his drinks from, and poured himself another healthy sized glass. " Now, if you're done trying to make me feel guilty over not panicking over a situation I can't change?"
" Fine." Jeanie spun around and walked out. If the temperature in the room had been sultry before, now it seemed almost ice cold. It was more than awkward, and Luka found himself almsot shivering. The problem, he realized, was that he could see both sides. Both Jeanie and Doug were doing their best to do the right thing. What made it worse was that he got the impression that they were two people who generally got along. Doug was drunk and unfortuneatly right. Jeanie was worried and concerned. I'm tired of talking with someone who is drunk, he decided.
He stepped out into the long hallway. The lights weren't turned on. He wasn't sure which room Jeanie was in and the dark wasn't helping. He started peeking into each room, taking care to knock. He opened one door, only to find himself looking at what was obviously a well loved trophy room. The waning sunlikght lit the room up. John Carter was standing near a large mahogony desk, fiddling with a rifle. There was an open gun cabinet set into the wall and many animal heads on the walls.
Carter looked at him. His eyes were tired looking. " Dr. Kovac... Is everything all right? " He looked down the sights of the rifle as he spoke.
" I was just looking for Jeanie, " Luka said softly. His concern rose just a notch. On the one hand, Carter was fooling with a gun. On the other hand, he hadn't seemed suicidal and he was holding the weopon like he'd used it at least a few times before. He decided to explain himself a little better since he didn't know what the younger man was thinking or doing. " She was worried about Dr. Weaver. I thought I would take a look, but I don't remember which room they're in."
" They're down towards the end of the hall. Last door on the left." Carter set the rifle down on the desk. " Once you do that, I could use your help. There's some antique kerosene lanterns up in the attic. I'm going to turn the electricity off except for in the kitchen. The fuel isn't going to last forever and electric lights might attract... less than pleasant survivors."
Luka was impressed. He'd had the impression that Carter wasn't truly accepting the situation, but here he ws planning ahead. " What about the gun?"
Carter shrugged. He smiled wryly. " What with most of the human race being dead and all, it occured to me that there's absolutely no police around. There's seven of us. Four of us are female. Dr. Ross and I aren't the sort to... force ourselves on women who don't want our attention. You don't strike me that way either, but I'm sure there's some people out there who would just see four attractive women in a world where there just aren't very many. You follow me?"
" Of course." And he certainly understood that John Carter felt protective and wouldn't tolerate any such nonsense from a newcomer. Luka didn't anticipate it being a problem with him, but Carter had a good point. There were other survivors. There were no policemen. There were no laws. If someone came to the mansion looking for companionship in a violent way, they would have to respond in kind. It was, in a way, worse than the war in his homeland, in that in Croatia there had at least been the hope that things would get better. It was going to be a long time before things got better in Chicago. He watched as Carter loaded the rifle. The rifle was almost a show piece. Like everything else in the place, it reeked of class and money. " Do you know how to use that?"
" Well enough." Carter gestured around the room. A closer look told Luka that someone in the Carter family had done a great deal of safari hunting before predators like lions and tigers had become endangered. Carter looked somehwat pensive as he gazed about the room. " My grandfather liked to hunt. It was his only hobby that didn't involve business. He would go just about anywhere if he thought there was a big dangerous animal he could track. He took me a few times. Deer and elk hunting. " He shrugged. " I never killed anything but I do know which end to point it at. What about that M-16 you have?"
Another good question, Luka thought. " I've used one before. In Bosnia. I'm no expert."
Carter smiled just a little. " I guess we'll have to ask Dr. Weaver for some tips." He picked up his rifle again. " I suppose that's not very funny."
" I've heard worse." Luka said. The humor in a war zone tended to be pretty grim. He decided that Carter had the situation in hand, at least as much as could be expected. He left the trophy room and went back into the hallway. Instead of heading down to the bedroom where Jeanie was, he went back to the kitchen. There were a few flashlights in there, and Jeanie would appreciate one if the power was going out. She might also want something to eat, he mused.
He merely tapped the door as he strode in, his arms loaded down with a tray. Jeanie was seated in a small armchair near the bed and she looked surprised to see him. The nightstand was loaded up with medical supplies. She had attached a hanging IV to the four poster bed, and he could see the tubing snaking under the covers. Kerry was curled up under the covers. Sleeping peacefully, to his practiced eye, which was probably for the best. He set the tray down on a small desk that was pushed up against the wall. It was a nice enough room, but judging by the room's placement, on the first floor near the giant garage, and judging by the pleasant but older furniture, he suspected it was either a servant's old room or perhaps a disliked relative's. Carter must have chosen it because it was the closest bedroom to the garage. " I brought you two some sandwiches and hot tea. How are you doing?"
Jeanie shrugged. She picked up one of the mugs of tea. " I'm fine. Kerry is asleep or unconsious, I really can't tell. Most of the human race is dead. I'm HIV positive and my drug cocktail doesn't have a long shelf life. This morning I saw a very close friend casually kill a man, and the only real feelings I have about that are that I'm glad the man's dead. All in all its been a rotten day." She sipped the tea. Then, she started to cry. " I'm sorry... It's just... It's just a lot, all at once."
Luka pulled over the small desk chair and took a seat beside her. He took her hands in his. " It's all right. I think it's a lot for all of us." She continued to cry for a few moments, and he let her. It was a lot for anyone to handle and she had been obviously holding up the others. Finally as she stared to wipe her eyes, he said, " You know, it could be worse. You could be an insulin dependant diabetic."
After a moment, she chuckled. " That's really not very funny," she said.
" No, but all things considered, we're not doing too badly." He shifted his chair so that he could check out Kerry, which had been his origanal plan. It wasn't that he didn't trust Doug or Jeanie's skills but there were extenuating cirumstances. Doug had assessed Kerry while intoxicated. Jeanie was not a doctor, and she was tired and upset. He looked over the sleeping woman, careful not to jostle the bed. " Her pupils react to light. Her breathing is fine, she doesn't seem to be in distress. " He decided to try a little humor. " As long as she's not insulin dependant, I think she'll be fine."
Jeanie did smile, but it was a strained smile. " Fortuneatly I don't think any of us have that problem. And Doug is right. There's not much we can do if there's more than a concussion."
" Things will work out." Luka firmly believed that. The situation was horrible, but he accepted it. The plague had happened and he had to either accept it and try to make things start to work again, or not accept it.
" I know, " she said softly, " but it doesn't change the fact that I wish none of this had happened."
To that, Luka Kovac had no response. There wasn't any response to make. Natural or not, the flu had killed most of humanity, and he wished it hadn't happened too.
??
Luka looked at the catherdral ceiling in the Carter family mansion and whistled softly. He had pictured a small two story house and the palatial expensive home was not waht he had envisioned at all. The room itself was what Carter called the "family living room" which was evidently different than "the parlor", " the smoking room " and the "formal living room". It was a very nice room all things considered. The deep leather couches were comfortable and obviously expensive. The rugs were Persian. There was Steuban crystal figurines on the shelves, high up enough that little hands couldn't reach them, but still tastefully displayed. There was a bar in the corner filled with pricey cordials and excellent aged scotch. Doug had already poured himself a glass. It wasn't good, Luka thought, that the man drank so much. It was a problem that was similar to the problem they had faced earlier with the gun. There was just too much alcohol within arm's reach to keep one person away from it. He hoped that the man would get over his crisis soon. Otherwise it was going to be very difficult to deal with.
That was if he stayed with the group and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to stay. There were problems. Doug was drowning the situation in a wave of booze. Dr. Weaver, who he had seen only as a pale, sleeping woman, was not coping well. Granted, he didn't feel physically threatened by a disabled woman half his size, but it concerned him. Lucy was wounded and very young seeming. Then, there was John Carter, member of the bourgious upper class. Luka wouldn't have cared under normal, but Carter was barely functioning and had a mindset that wasn't thinking very far into the future. It also worried him that Jeanie was HIV positive. She had been very upfront about it when he had asked why so many AIDS related drugs had ended up in their medical store. It made him nervous just the same. It also made him feel awful to think that way, but it was a survival situation. He was with five people and only one of them, Randi, seemed suited to dealing with the situation. Randi, for her part, seemed very loyal to them so if he did decide to slip out, he'd be going alone. He didn't want to be alone but he wasn't sure if he wanted to be in a group of basket cases.
Basket cases is harsh, he thought as he opened the expensive imported beer that Carter had handed him moments earlier. He was probably being too pessamistic. Aside from her HIV status, Jeanie seemed to be a level headed woman. She had taken the situation in hand, despite the unpleasant, if obvious fact that her own life span was going to be cut short. It was possible that he simply wasn't seeing either Lucy or Carter at their best. They were very tired and in shock. He suspected they would be better companions with a little rest. He wasn't sure he'd go so far with Dr. Weaver, whose first name he still wasn't quite sure of, but the truth was, no one seemed very upset over the death of the army captain. From what Jeanie had describbed, if the man hadn't been killed, he would have shot them all. It wasn't normal behavior, but the man had beaten her up and threatened the lives of coworkers. It was possible that her irrationality would disappear with rest and removal from the situation. Of course, he had packed a few different psychiatric drugs just in case she didn't respond well. He had his worries about Doug, but the man had buried loved ones that morning. Did you function that well, he asked himself, when your own family died? No, you didn't. Your father had to bring you the vodka you drowned your sorrows in. At least Doug can find the bar. Maybe he'll straighten out after a few days, he thought charitably, the same way I did.
He wasn't looking to leave any time soon, either. He'd spent the last five days holed up on his dank boat waiting out the worst of the plague. He had been working at Chicago Hope as a long term ttemporary worker for a pregnant doctor on leave and when his shift had finished, he had left. The military had left Hope alone for the most part and it had been easy to evade the sick soldiers. It had been a long, lonely five days. He'd checked on a few of the people in the nearby boats but they had all died very quickly. He had barely been able to eat the last few days and his stress levels had shot through the roof. He had also been having bad dreams, nightmares really, and he was positive it was because he was alone. People had never been important to him, not since his family was killed, but now he keenly felt how alone he was. It had been a relief even to find a drunk. For a few days at least, he thought reflectively, I'm going to stay here. He suspected it would be a long time before he found a group of people, let alone a group of medical colleagues. At least we have mutual interests, he thought as he sipped his beer.
Lucy walked into the room, carrying a large tray of sandwiches and snacks. She had changed into a casual pair of shorts and a shirt. No doubt the women had stopped at their various homes or at least a store before heading to the Carter home. Probably their homes, he mused as he took in her clothes, her outfit looked nice but not brand new and he suspected that the reality of no more need to buy anything hadn't sunk in yet. She set the tray down on the small coffee table. " I made sandwiches out of the stuff that was in the fridge. It was lucky that someone turned on the emergency power in the kitchen. Everything would have spoiled otherwise." Her voice trailed off, and she took a seat on the couch opposite Luka.
He picked up a roast beef sandwich. " How is your arm?" He didn't know what else to say. He was the only stranger in the group and it felt awkward.
" I'm all right," Lucy said after a moment. Her voice was soft. " The bullet just grazed me. I guess Dr. Ross gave Dr. Weaver more stitches than what I got." She looked over at Doug. " Dr. Ross, maybe you should eat something."
Doug walked over, his glass in hand. " Lucy, my name is Doug." He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a good natured smile. " It's ok for you to call me Doug, ok?"
She nodded but Luka could see that she felt awkward. " Maybe you should eat something... Doug."
He grinned as he took a seat in one of the easy chairs. Then he took a long swallow from his drink. " In the immortal words of Kerry Weaver, no, I'm fine. Anyone have an agenda for the evening?"
Luka shrugged. He didn't know. Carter had wandered off as soon as they had gotten to the house, stating that he wanted to make sure the house was ok. Jeanie and Randi were making sure that Kerry was safely ensconced in a downstairs bedroom. He, upon dumping his rucksack into one of the other empty bedrooms, had headed for the family living room, finding it the one plaec that didn't seem loaded with breakables. He had no plans for the evening, aside from eating and sleeping. Maybe getting to know his new companions would be nice, he mused, but none of them seemed in the mood.
Lucy seemed at as muh of a loss as he. " I don't know. I'm really not in the mood to sit around the fireplace telling ghost stories." She gestured to the ornate fireplace in the far wall.
" Then I suppose no one will mind if I have another drink." Doug drank down the remains of his drink and got up. Luka could tell by Lucy's expression that she was as concerned as he was. Doug, for his part, was either oblivious or uncaring. He poured himself another generous drink of scotch.
Again it was awkward. Luka nibbled on his sandwich, wondering just what the group dynamic was. Doug had been Lucy's superior and she was uncomfortable with how the situation had changed. She also seemed rather sympathetic towards the man, and Luka wondered why. Stop analyzing, he told himself. Just watch and learn. You're the outsider here.
" Doug?" Luka turned at the sound of Jeanie's voice. She walked into the large room at a brisk pace. She looked worried, Luka realized. Not "oh dear god the house is on fire" worried, but she was concerned about something. He watched as she strode over to where Doug was standing. " What did you give Kerry? She's not very responsive. I tried to wake her up and I couldn't."
" Why would you try to wake her up?" Doug asked. He took a drink. " I gave her Haldol but only half the normal dosage for someone her size, since I had a feeling it was going to hit her hard. You did examine her?" He spoke as though it was obvious, and somehow Luka wasn't surprised when she nodded. " Then you know. So, why don't you just let her get some sleep?"
Jeanie's face took on a harsher look. " Doug, she has a head injury that you evidently didn't bother to assess, and you gave her a sedative. What were you thinking?"
" I was thinking that she was needing to be sedated. " Doug said. His tone was short, but Luka sensed a touch of regret. " You do understand that any sort of treatment that we attempt without a sterile surgical room and ICU will kill her, right? If she's got a skull fracture, it's going to heal slow, and I don't envy her the headaches. If she's got a concussion, she'll be fine in a few days. And if she does have a subdural bleed, she's going to die in the next few days. Sooner, if anyone does decide to try their hand at cut rate nuerosurgery. " He paused. " I won't try it. I don't dislike her enough to intentionally kill her."
Jeanie looked as if she was going to explode. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. " Doug, I am sorry about what I said earlier, and I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am about Carol. Both Carol and Mark. I am just concerned about the living right now, and not the dead."
" So was I when I sedated someone who was obviously a danger to herself and others." Doug grabbed the bottle he'd been pouring his drinks from, and poured himself another healthy sized glass. " Now, if you're done trying to make me feel guilty over not panicking over a situation I can't change?"
" Fine." Jeanie spun around and walked out. If the temperature in the room had been sultry before, now it seemed almost ice cold. It was more than awkward, and Luka found himself almsot shivering. The problem, he realized, was that he could see both sides. Both Jeanie and Doug were doing their best to do the right thing. What made it worse was that he got the impression that they were two people who generally got along. Doug was drunk and unfortuneatly right. Jeanie was worried and concerned. I'm tired of talking with someone who is drunk, he decided.
He stepped out into the long hallway. The lights weren't turned on. He wasn't sure which room Jeanie was in and the dark wasn't helping. He started peeking into each room, taking care to knock. He opened one door, only to find himself looking at what was obviously a well loved trophy room. The waning sunlikght lit the room up. John Carter was standing near a large mahogony desk, fiddling with a rifle. There was an open gun cabinet set into the wall and many animal heads on the walls.
Carter looked at him. His eyes were tired looking. " Dr. Kovac... Is everything all right? " He looked down the sights of the rifle as he spoke.
" I was just looking for Jeanie, " Luka said softly. His concern rose just a notch. On the one hand, Carter was fooling with a gun. On the other hand, he hadn't seemed suicidal and he was holding the weopon like he'd used it at least a few times before. He decided to explain himself a little better since he didn't know what the younger man was thinking or doing. " She was worried about Dr. Weaver. I thought I would take a look, but I don't remember which room they're in."
" They're down towards the end of the hall. Last door on the left." Carter set the rifle down on the desk. " Once you do that, I could use your help. There's some antique kerosene lanterns up in the attic. I'm going to turn the electricity off except for in the kitchen. The fuel isn't going to last forever and electric lights might attract... less than pleasant survivors."
Luka was impressed. He'd had the impression that Carter wasn't truly accepting the situation, but here he ws planning ahead. " What about the gun?"
Carter shrugged. He smiled wryly. " What with most of the human race being dead and all, it occured to me that there's absolutely no police around. There's seven of us. Four of us are female. Dr. Ross and I aren't the sort to... force ourselves on women who don't want our attention. You don't strike me that way either, but I'm sure there's some people out there who would just see four attractive women in a world where there just aren't very many. You follow me?"
" Of course." And he certainly understood that John Carter felt protective and wouldn't tolerate any such nonsense from a newcomer. Luka didn't anticipate it being a problem with him, but Carter had a good point. There were other survivors. There were no policemen. There were no laws. If someone came to the mansion looking for companionship in a violent way, they would have to respond in kind. It was, in a way, worse than the war in his homeland, in that in Croatia there had at least been the hope that things would get better. It was going to be a long time before things got better in Chicago. He watched as Carter loaded the rifle. The rifle was almost a show piece. Like everything else in the place, it reeked of class and money. " Do you know how to use that?"
" Well enough." Carter gestured around the room. A closer look told Luka that someone in the Carter family had done a great deal of safari hunting before predators like lions and tigers had become endangered. Carter looked somehwat pensive as he gazed about the room. " My grandfather liked to hunt. It was his only hobby that didn't involve business. He would go just about anywhere if he thought there was a big dangerous animal he could track. He took me a few times. Deer and elk hunting. " He shrugged. " I never killed anything but I do know which end to point it at. What about that M-16 you have?"
Another good question, Luka thought. " I've used one before. In Bosnia. I'm no expert."
Carter smiled just a little. " I guess we'll have to ask Dr. Weaver for some tips." He picked up his rifle again. " I suppose that's not very funny."
" I've heard worse." Luka said. The humor in a war zone tended to be pretty grim. He decided that Carter had the situation in hand, at least as much as could be expected. He left the trophy room and went back into the hallway. Instead of heading down to the bedroom where Jeanie was, he went back to the kitchen. There were a few flashlights in there, and Jeanie would appreciate one if the power was going out. She might also want something to eat, he mused.
He merely tapped the door as he strode in, his arms loaded down with a tray. Jeanie was seated in a small armchair near the bed and she looked surprised to see him. The nightstand was loaded up with medical supplies. She had attached a hanging IV to the four poster bed, and he could see the tubing snaking under the covers. Kerry was curled up under the covers. Sleeping peacefully, to his practiced eye, which was probably for the best. He set the tray down on a small desk that was pushed up against the wall. It was a nice enough room, but judging by the room's placement, on the first floor near the giant garage, and judging by the pleasant but older furniture, he suspected it was either a servant's old room or perhaps a disliked relative's. Carter must have chosen it because it was the closest bedroom to the garage. " I brought you two some sandwiches and hot tea. How are you doing?"
Jeanie shrugged. She picked up one of the mugs of tea. " I'm fine. Kerry is asleep or unconsious, I really can't tell. Most of the human race is dead. I'm HIV positive and my drug cocktail doesn't have a long shelf life. This morning I saw a very close friend casually kill a man, and the only real feelings I have about that are that I'm glad the man's dead. All in all its been a rotten day." She sipped the tea. Then, she started to cry. " I'm sorry... It's just... It's just a lot, all at once."
Luka pulled over the small desk chair and took a seat beside her. He took her hands in his. " It's all right. I think it's a lot for all of us." She continued to cry for a few moments, and he let her. It was a lot for anyone to handle and she had been obviously holding up the others. Finally as she stared to wipe her eyes, he said, " You know, it could be worse. You could be an insulin dependant diabetic."
After a moment, she chuckled. " That's really not very funny," she said.
" No, but all things considered, we're not doing too badly." He shifted his chair so that he could check out Kerry, which had been his origanal plan. It wasn't that he didn't trust Doug or Jeanie's skills but there were extenuating cirumstances. Doug had assessed Kerry while intoxicated. Jeanie was not a doctor, and she was tired and upset. He looked over the sleeping woman, careful not to jostle the bed. " Her pupils react to light. Her breathing is fine, she doesn't seem to be in distress. " He decided to try a little humor. " As long as she's not insulin dependant, I think she'll be fine."
Jeanie did smile, but it was a strained smile. " Fortuneatly I don't think any of us have that problem. And Doug is right. There's not much we can do if there's more than a concussion."
" Things will work out." Luka firmly believed that. The situation was horrible, but he accepted it. The plague had happened and he had to either accept it and try to make things start to work again, or not accept it.
" I know, " she said softly, " but it doesn't change the fact that I wish none of this had happened."
To that, Luka Kovac had no response. There wasn't any response to make. Natural or not, the flu had killed most of humanity, and he wished it hadn't happened too.
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