" ER/Stand part 17 "
" I'm so sick of canned food." Jeanie muttered as she wiped
the dust off of a display. " Something fresh would be nice."
Unfortunately, Kerry thought, they were for the most part a
group of ex-city dwellers. Something fresh would entail a lot of
work, though fresh meat was readily available. It was Iowa, the
corn state and more importantly, the cow state. Granted, her own
hunting experience had been long ago and in Africa, but she
suspected the only real difference would be fewer poisonous
snakes to watch out for. Steak for the evening meal would be
difficult to produce on short notice though. Bad enough she had
gotten suckered into making biscuits, and enough for Carter, a
ravenous wolf. Still, she understood where Jeanie was coming from
and it didn't hurt to be supportive. " Maybe we can look in a few
backyards. These people must have gardens."
" And corn!" Jeanie's eyes lit up with excitement. " We've
been driving by it for the last week, but it should be ready to
eat. It's almost August."
" Wouldn't all this corn be feed corn, for the cows?" Kerry
recalled one of her father's more disastrous attempts at a
garden. Jeanie waved off her concern with a brilliant smile.
" Even if it is, its still good at this point. Its all in
how you prepare it." Jeanie said. " So lets get something for
dinner and breakfast. Then we'll pick some corn." With that, she
trotted down the darkened aisle, her flashlight shining along the
shelves.
At least she cheered up a little, Kerry thought tiredly as
she walked over to the next aisle. Jeanie had been down for some
time, though the exact reason escaped Kerry. It wasn't as though
there weren't a lot of things to be depressed about in their
brave new world.
Stop it, she told herself as she started looking over the
cold medicine, things are getting better. Really. No matter how
bad the nightmares are, you haven't let on about it. They think
you're ok, and they'll keep thinking that as long as you keep the
wall up. She let herself visualize the wall. It was much as it
had been before the plague, sturdy with concrete blocks.
Fortified with rebar after the plague, and crumbling in a number
of places. No matter how hard she tried, it kept crumbling and
sometimes, late at night after she'd awakened from the same
nightmare for the nth time, biting on her hands to stop from
screaming, she knew it was going to fall. But it was still
daylight and she could safely place those thoughts behind the
wall where they belonged. She knew it wasn't healthy. Sometimes
she wondered if the bad dreams were really just a reaction to her
hiding all of her emotions and feelings behind her mental wall,
but sometimes she thought the dreams were real.
That was another thought to keep hidden, that she was even
considering her dreams to be real. To dream that dark forces were
gathering in Las Vegas and the troublemakers were being crucified
on telephone poles, that was bad. To think it was real was
psychotic. I'm not psychotic, she told herself, I know what's
real and what's not. The plague was real. My dreams are not. Now
put those thoughts away, behind the wall, before Jeanie sees you
looking upset and thinks you've lost it again.
She browsed through the cold medicine, picking up more than
enough to last Lucy, all the while fighting back the cold sense
of unease she felt. Her ears strained to listen but all she heard
was the sound of Jeanie rooting around. Stop it, she told herself
again, there's no one here. If you keep acting like a nut,
they're going to start to wonder about the medication. She felt
the collection of Prozac pills that were accumulating in her
jacket pockets and shuddered. She had stopped taking it, almost
as soon as they had left Chicago. It hadn't helped, not really.
The first few days, yes, it had made her feel calm but if
anything the nightmares had intensified to where she literally
hadn't been able to sleep. So she started palming the pills. It
wasn't hard. Though her companions made a lot of noise to
themselves about keeping an eye on her, it was simple to avoid
them and their concern. She had a gun, for example. A small .22
pistol that she kept in her jacket pocket just in case her daily
keeper decided to take off and she found herself in a bind.
And that was the real fear wasn't it? The thought reared
itself from behind her mentally imposed wall of avoidance and
forced her to think about it. The fear that at some point her
companions were going to get tired of being held up by the
crippled psychotic in their midst. She was a drag on the group, a
liability. They didn't trust her by herself because of the
incident with Walker (what "incident", her inner voice asked, you
went crazy and shot the man fifteen times for kicks) and she
wasn't able to help with much of the work. They didn't need her
for her medical skill, and sometimes the fear that they would
decide to leave her overwhelmed her thoughts. Then she would be
alone, and if she was alone, keeping all of her stray emotions
and odd notions behind the wall would be impossible.
She fingered the small gun. Using the gun was a bad idea,
she thought suddenly. The bullets were too small, and it was
underpowered. If she didn't hit exactly the right spot, she might
live. Or at least linger on for a while unpleasantly. Pills would
be better. No chance of survival if she took the pills at night
before going to bed. None of them would catch on until the next
morning and by then it would be too late. The Prozac she had been
saving would do the job.
After a moment, she shook her head. Stop it, she told
herself. That's not the answer. Things are getting better. So
they don't trust you, that's to be expected. They are getting
over it. They aren't going to leave you behind somewhere, not
without some warning at least. They weren't very good at hiding
their plans, and it seemed clear that Doug was going to face
their wrath first. She had already overheard some serious talk of
an ultimatum. It was a plan doomed to failure, not that anyone
had bothered to include her in the discussion.
Not that it was a new thing. She sighed again. Decisions
were made around her, sometimes without even a perfunctionary "
What do you think?" At first, it hadn't bothered her. She had,
she was willing to admit, been in no shape to make good
decisions. Plus, the Prozac had kept her from thinking. By the
time she'd stopped taking the medication, they had already gotten
into the habit of not including her. She tried to not let it
bother her, knowing that there was more than a little reason to
distrust her rational thinking, but as time wore on, it made her
increasingly angry. She put those feelings behind her carefully
reconstructed mental wall. Getting angry would be a "sign" that
she wasn't coping. It was a sign that she was crazy still.
She shivered again. She couldn't shake the creepy sensation
that someone was in the store with them. She spotted a few rats,
and let out the breath she had been unconsciously holding. It's
just more rats, she thought with relief.
" It's not just rats, Kerry." She spun around at the sound
of the darkly masculine voice, but no one was there. Cold sweat
broke out all over her body. The voice chuckled at her fright. I
know that voice, she thought.
" Of course you know my voice." Again he chuckled, and Kerry
realized who it was. The dark man, the man in her dreams. She
knew him, if not by his looks, then by his voice and the ice cold
sensation that made her ache. Flagg, she thought suddenly, that's
his name.
" That's just one of my names, but please, feel free to call
me that." He chuckled again. " I have many names. I thought we'd
have a little chat. You may want to keep quiet though, since your
HIV positive friend can't hear me. She'd probably think you were
having another psychotic episode. And of course you wouldn't want
that."
No, Kerry thought as she struggled to control her racing
heart, Jeanie catching me talking to an aural hallucination would
be bad. She took a deep breath and let it out. I'm just imagining
this, she told herself, its not real.
" Oh you can tell yourself if you like." Flagg chuckled.
Again, she looked around, hoping to find someone there, but
instead she heard more laughter in her ears. " You don't really
want to see me, Kerry. Or should I call you Dr. Weaver? I think I
should. This is a professional negotiation after all."
I'm not hearing this, she told herself. I'm not listening to
a demon from my dreams make me some sort of job offer. She wiped
the sweat off her brow with shaking hands.
" But you are hearing it," Flagg said simply. " And perhaps
you should listen instead of turning my offer down. I'm amassing
my forces. We need a doctor. I'm willing to... forgive your
earlier turndown. The offer stands. Come to my side and you'll be
a doctor again. A respected and trusted member of my high
council. You'll never have that with these people, you know. Do
you really think they'll ever let you practice medicine again?
With your history of murderous rampage? I'm surprised they
haven't dumped you by the road side yet, and of course, they
certainly have considered it."
No they haven't, she thought, not yet at least. Doug was the
big problem, with his drinking. They're more worried about that.
But then, there was a part of her that wasn't that sure. She
forced those thoughts back behind the wall.
" Of course they've considered it. You aren't fooling them."
Flagg chuckled again and she felt the cold sensation running
through body increase in intensity. " That brings me to your
portion of the bargain. It's no longer a free ride. If you come
to my side, you need to do something for me. I don't want the
other side to have doctors."
There was no doubt in her mind what he meant. No, she
thought.
Icy cold hands grabbed her shoulders, and she could feel his
freezing breath next to her ear. She turned slightly, but the
invisible hands held her still. " Oh Kerry, " he whispered into
her ear, " Don't you see you'd be doing them all a favor? I'm
going to win and their lives are forfeit. And really, what do
they have to live for? Jeanie won't last more than a few years
and she'll die painfully and slowly. Kovac has had a foot in the
grave ever since he watched his family die by torture. Doug? He's
been a dead man ever since his little chippy died. He just
doesn't know enough to stop breathing. And the other three? Lucy,
Carter and Randi? Do you know what I'll have to do to them? Do
you want that? Their deaths could take days. You'd be showing
them mercy by taking care of it for me. Just put a little rat
poison in tonight's dinner..."
" No..." She whispered it but that didn't make it any less
true. She couldn't do it. More importantly, she wouldn't do it.
It went against everything she ever had believed in. " I'd... I'd
kill myself first."
" Well, that is always an amusing option." She felt him let
go and in seconds the only thing she could hear was the sound of
her own rapid breathing. It wasn't real, she told herself again
as she wiped her brow again. It wasn't and I'd never do that. She
felt the pills in her pocket again. I won't do what he wants. I'm
not going to kill anyone. They don't deserve that.
" Kerry?" She jumped at the sound of Jeanie's voice. She
spun around. Jeanie looked at her worriedly. " Are you ok? You
look flushed."
" I..." Her voice trailed off. Get it back under control,
she told herself. You didn't hear anything. Only crazy people
hear voices from their dreams telling them to kill. You didn't
hear any voices. Just put this whole incident behind the wall and
forget about it. Keep everything calm and cool and no one needs
to know about the dreams and the dark man. Everything will be
fine. " I'm fine. Just a little hot."
" You sure? " Jeanie asked, concern in her voice. " I hope
you're not coming down with what Lucy's got."
" No, I'm just a little hot I think. Do we have everything?"
She just wanted to get out of there.
" Everything but the corn." Jeanie's good mood seemed to
return. " Let's get going." She made for the door. Kerry followed
her. She mentally counted the pills she had saved. There's
enough, she thought. If it comes to that, I have enough to do the
job.
" I'm so sick of canned food." Jeanie muttered as she wiped
the dust off of a display. " Something fresh would be nice."
Unfortunately, Kerry thought, they were for the most part a
group of ex-city dwellers. Something fresh would entail a lot of
work, though fresh meat was readily available. It was Iowa, the
corn state and more importantly, the cow state. Granted, her own
hunting experience had been long ago and in Africa, but she
suspected the only real difference would be fewer poisonous
snakes to watch out for. Steak for the evening meal would be
difficult to produce on short notice though. Bad enough she had
gotten suckered into making biscuits, and enough for Carter, a
ravenous wolf. Still, she understood where Jeanie was coming from
and it didn't hurt to be supportive. " Maybe we can look in a few
backyards. These people must have gardens."
" And corn!" Jeanie's eyes lit up with excitement. " We've
been driving by it for the last week, but it should be ready to
eat. It's almost August."
" Wouldn't all this corn be feed corn, for the cows?" Kerry
recalled one of her father's more disastrous attempts at a
garden. Jeanie waved off her concern with a brilliant smile.
" Even if it is, its still good at this point. Its all in
how you prepare it." Jeanie said. " So lets get something for
dinner and breakfast. Then we'll pick some corn." With that, she
trotted down the darkened aisle, her flashlight shining along the
shelves.
At least she cheered up a little, Kerry thought tiredly as
she walked over to the next aisle. Jeanie had been down for some
time, though the exact reason escaped Kerry. It wasn't as though
there weren't a lot of things to be depressed about in their
brave new world.
Stop it, she told herself as she started looking over the
cold medicine, things are getting better. Really. No matter how
bad the nightmares are, you haven't let on about it. They think
you're ok, and they'll keep thinking that as long as you keep the
wall up. She let herself visualize the wall. It was much as it
had been before the plague, sturdy with concrete blocks.
Fortified with rebar after the plague, and crumbling in a number
of places. No matter how hard she tried, it kept crumbling and
sometimes, late at night after she'd awakened from the same
nightmare for the nth time, biting on her hands to stop from
screaming, she knew it was going to fall. But it was still
daylight and she could safely place those thoughts behind the
wall where they belonged. She knew it wasn't healthy. Sometimes
she wondered if the bad dreams were really just a reaction to her
hiding all of her emotions and feelings behind her mental wall,
but sometimes she thought the dreams were real.
That was another thought to keep hidden, that she was even
considering her dreams to be real. To dream that dark forces were
gathering in Las Vegas and the troublemakers were being crucified
on telephone poles, that was bad. To think it was real was
psychotic. I'm not psychotic, she told herself, I know what's
real and what's not. The plague was real. My dreams are not. Now
put those thoughts away, behind the wall, before Jeanie sees you
looking upset and thinks you've lost it again.
She browsed through the cold medicine, picking up more than
enough to last Lucy, all the while fighting back the cold sense
of unease she felt. Her ears strained to listen but all she heard
was the sound of Jeanie rooting around. Stop it, she told herself
again, there's no one here. If you keep acting like a nut,
they're going to start to wonder about the medication. She felt
the collection of Prozac pills that were accumulating in her
jacket pockets and shuddered. She had stopped taking it, almost
as soon as they had left Chicago. It hadn't helped, not really.
The first few days, yes, it had made her feel calm but if
anything the nightmares had intensified to where she literally
hadn't been able to sleep. So she started palming the pills. It
wasn't hard. Though her companions made a lot of noise to
themselves about keeping an eye on her, it was simple to avoid
them and their concern. She had a gun, for example. A small .22
pistol that she kept in her jacket pocket just in case her daily
keeper decided to take off and she found herself in a bind.
And that was the real fear wasn't it? The thought reared
itself from behind her mentally imposed wall of avoidance and
forced her to think about it. The fear that at some point her
companions were going to get tired of being held up by the
crippled psychotic in their midst. She was a drag on the group, a
liability. They didn't trust her by herself because of the
incident with Walker (what "incident", her inner voice asked, you
went crazy and shot the man fifteen times for kicks) and she
wasn't able to help with much of the work. They didn't need her
for her medical skill, and sometimes the fear that they would
decide to leave her overwhelmed her thoughts. Then she would be
alone, and if she was alone, keeping all of her stray emotions
and odd notions behind the wall would be impossible.
She fingered the small gun. Using the gun was a bad idea,
she thought suddenly. The bullets were too small, and it was
underpowered. If she didn't hit exactly the right spot, she might
live. Or at least linger on for a while unpleasantly. Pills would
be better. No chance of survival if she took the pills at night
before going to bed. None of them would catch on until the next
morning and by then it would be too late. The Prozac she had been
saving would do the job.
After a moment, she shook her head. Stop it, she told
herself. That's not the answer. Things are getting better. So
they don't trust you, that's to be expected. They are getting
over it. They aren't going to leave you behind somewhere, not
without some warning at least. They weren't very good at hiding
their plans, and it seemed clear that Doug was going to face
their wrath first. She had already overheard some serious talk of
an ultimatum. It was a plan doomed to failure, not that anyone
had bothered to include her in the discussion.
Not that it was a new thing. She sighed again. Decisions
were made around her, sometimes without even a perfunctionary "
What do you think?" At first, it hadn't bothered her. She had,
she was willing to admit, been in no shape to make good
decisions. Plus, the Prozac had kept her from thinking. By the
time she'd stopped taking the medication, they had already gotten
into the habit of not including her. She tried to not let it
bother her, knowing that there was more than a little reason to
distrust her rational thinking, but as time wore on, it made her
increasingly angry. She put those feelings behind her carefully
reconstructed mental wall. Getting angry would be a "sign" that
she wasn't coping. It was a sign that she was crazy still.
She shivered again. She couldn't shake the creepy sensation
that someone was in the store with them. She spotted a few rats,
and let out the breath she had been unconsciously holding. It's
just more rats, she thought with relief.
" It's not just rats, Kerry." She spun around at the sound
of the darkly masculine voice, but no one was there. Cold sweat
broke out all over her body. The voice chuckled at her fright. I
know that voice, she thought.
" Of course you know my voice." Again he chuckled, and Kerry
realized who it was. The dark man, the man in her dreams. She
knew him, if not by his looks, then by his voice and the ice cold
sensation that made her ache. Flagg, she thought suddenly, that's
his name.
" That's just one of my names, but please, feel free to call
me that." He chuckled again. " I have many names. I thought we'd
have a little chat. You may want to keep quiet though, since your
HIV positive friend can't hear me. She'd probably think you were
having another psychotic episode. And of course you wouldn't want
that."
No, Kerry thought as she struggled to control her racing
heart, Jeanie catching me talking to an aural hallucination would
be bad. She took a deep breath and let it out. I'm just imagining
this, she told herself, its not real.
" Oh you can tell yourself if you like." Flagg chuckled.
Again, she looked around, hoping to find someone there, but
instead she heard more laughter in her ears. " You don't really
want to see me, Kerry. Or should I call you Dr. Weaver? I think I
should. This is a professional negotiation after all."
I'm not hearing this, she told herself. I'm not listening to
a demon from my dreams make me some sort of job offer. She wiped
the sweat off her brow with shaking hands.
" But you are hearing it," Flagg said simply. " And perhaps
you should listen instead of turning my offer down. I'm amassing
my forces. We need a doctor. I'm willing to... forgive your
earlier turndown. The offer stands. Come to my side and you'll be
a doctor again. A respected and trusted member of my high
council. You'll never have that with these people, you know. Do
you really think they'll ever let you practice medicine again?
With your history of murderous rampage? I'm surprised they
haven't dumped you by the road side yet, and of course, they
certainly have considered it."
No they haven't, she thought, not yet at least. Doug was the
big problem, with his drinking. They're more worried about that.
But then, there was a part of her that wasn't that sure. She
forced those thoughts back behind the wall.
" Of course they've considered it. You aren't fooling them."
Flagg chuckled again and she felt the cold sensation running
through body increase in intensity. " That brings me to your
portion of the bargain. It's no longer a free ride. If you come
to my side, you need to do something for me. I don't want the
other side to have doctors."
There was no doubt in her mind what he meant. No, she
thought.
Icy cold hands grabbed her shoulders, and she could feel his
freezing breath next to her ear. She turned slightly, but the
invisible hands held her still. " Oh Kerry, " he whispered into
her ear, " Don't you see you'd be doing them all a favor? I'm
going to win and their lives are forfeit. And really, what do
they have to live for? Jeanie won't last more than a few years
and she'll die painfully and slowly. Kovac has had a foot in the
grave ever since he watched his family die by torture. Doug? He's
been a dead man ever since his little chippy died. He just
doesn't know enough to stop breathing. And the other three? Lucy,
Carter and Randi? Do you know what I'll have to do to them? Do
you want that? Their deaths could take days. You'd be showing
them mercy by taking care of it for me. Just put a little rat
poison in tonight's dinner..."
" No..." She whispered it but that didn't make it any less
true. She couldn't do it. More importantly, she wouldn't do it.
It went against everything she ever had believed in. " I'd... I'd
kill myself first."
" Well, that is always an amusing option." She felt him let
go and in seconds the only thing she could hear was the sound of
her own rapid breathing. It wasn't real, she told herself again
as she wiped her brow again. It wasn't and I'd never do that. She
felt the pills in her pocket again. I won't do what he wants. I'm
not going to kill anyone. They don't deserve that.
" Kerry?" She jumped at the sound of Jeanie's voice. She
spun around. Jeanie looked at her worriedly. " Are you ok? You
look flushed."
" I..." Her voice trailed off. Get it back under control,
she told herself. You didn't hear anything. Only crazy people
hear voices from their dreams telling them to kill. You didn't
hear any voices. Just put this whole incident behind the wall and
forget about it. Keep everything calm and cool and no one needs
to know about the dreams and the dark man. Everything will be
fine. " I'm fine. Just a little hot."
" You sure? " Jeanie asked, concern in her voice. " I hope
you're not coming down with what Lucy's got."
" No, I'm just a little hot I think. Do we have everything?"
She just wanted to get out of there.
" Everything but the corn." Jeanie's good mood seemed to
return. " Let's get going." She made for the door. Kerry followed
her. She mentally counted the pills she had saved. There's
enough, she thought. If it comes to that, I have enough to do the
job.