Emmett Edwards
"How do we lose a man?" I joke from the doorway, my axe slung over one shoulder. Monica, my mom, looks annoyed as she looks around the room, poking around the small closet.
"Don't start with me, Emmett." She opens the bathroom door and frowns. "We left for one day. I didn't think he would wake up." Her voice quivers in stress, and I sigh, moving to rub a comforting hand on her shoulder. Her distress is palpable, and I can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for her.
"I was just teasing—I'm sorry." She looks at me for a moment, then nods.
"No, it's not your fault. I just...I thought we could keep him safe for a little while longer." My mother, Monica, had worked as a nurse at Harrison Memorial Hospital for years. When Wildfire first spread in Kings County, the military rolled in to assess anyone admitted with the virus. She called me from a broom closet in tears, claiming the military was shooting down patients and staff. The hospital was in chaos, and the situation was spiraling out of control. Apparently, one of the doctors ate a soldier.
When she called me, I wasn't working, but I was clearing out my locker at the fire station. They had closed the station that morning, stating that we would be going into a state of emergency. Our county had one of the worst outbreaks of this new virus, but they still weren't telling us any new information. Instead, we got the same news reports on repeat. By the time I got to the hospital, they were dragging people into the parking lots by the dozen. Each with a bullet wound in the head.
After a few days of hiding, we cleared out the hall and used the coma ward as our home base. Mom knew the hospital like the back of her hand, so we blocked off all the exits and hunkered down. I wanted to leave and go out to the country, find somewhere far away from any of the roamers, but while clearing out the hall, we found a coma patient still hooked up.
"Should we leave again and look for him?" she cringed, instant regret showing after she suggested leaving. I hummed as I looked out the door into the ruined hallway. She had been scared to leave town or even the hospital. The two-day trip out of town to get more supplies was already past her exposure limit to the world.
"That's a good point. I know it's dangerous, but I think we should leave. Take our risks on the road and see if we can track him down. Rick is a good man, and he's put his life on the line for my own before; he is worth the risk."
Her dark eyes are still filled with worry, and she chews on her nails, staring at the empty hospital bed. "I know you've wanted to leave for a while. I guess it was only a matter of time."
"Okay, well—it's almost dark. So, let's make a game plan tonight, gather the essentials, and we can head out in the morning." She followed me through the hallway and into the nurse's station, where we had boarded off as our sleeping area. The generators powered all essentials like Ricks's monitors, the air, and the water heaters. There was too much for me to clear alone, but the small hallway we had sectioned off had created a safe space.
I'd grown up in King's County, and as soon as I turned 18, I joined the fire academy. After a childhood of encountering one too many first responders, I knew that was the future I wanted to accomplish. My father would have died many times over if he hadn't been revived every few weeks.
Sometimes, I wonder if life would have been easier if he had died. He was probably the world's luckiest heroin addict.
"He was in that bed for five weeks, Emmett. He shouldn't be out there." Monica sat on the makeshift bed, staring at me. Her worry lines aged her, not that it took away from her beauty. She was only 17 when she had me, so she'd always been a young mom; however, our home life's stress had worn down over time. I think she had grey hairs before 30. Even still, she was one of the more desirable women in town. When my father finally left, I believe every eligible bachelor in the town cheered.
"He probably went home to see if Lori and Carl were there. If not there—the police station. They'll still have power like the hospital and the firehouse. He'd probably camp there if he decided to stay in town." I sat across from her on my 'bed.' We took the cushions from the chairs and wrapped them with hospital sheets. At first, we tried the mattresses from the hospital rooms, but after they executed all the patients, too many were soaked through with blood. We took the back pain over the blood stains.
"If we can't find him?"
I shrug and look around. "This is no way to live. We might have everything we need right now, but eventually, the generators will run out, the food will run out, and the roamers outside and inside will add up." She breaks our eye contact and wrings her hands. "I have always promised to keep you safe; that doesn't stop now."
She smiles and looks back up at me. "That's supposed to be my job, Teeth." I groan and roll my eyes, leaning over and grabbing the small cooler we keep food in.
"Still hate that nickname." I hand her a protein bar and take one for myself. "We're a team, and we take care of eachother."
The Grime's house was empty. We were walking to the police station, keeping to backyards and side streets to avoid any roamers. "What do we do if he's not there?" Monica asked again as I peered around the corner of the neighboring building to the police station.
"I'm not sure yet…" Once I knew it was clear, I waved her on, and we entered the front of the building. As a fellow first responder in town, I knew the building reasonably well. "First things first, we secure the building."
The police station was empty in the same eerie way the rest of town was. It was like everyone got up and left one day, which was close to the truth. I gave Mom my handgun and left her by the front door while I went through all the rooms in the station. There was one roamer in a cell that I axed, but other than that, it was clear. I heard her call for me before I could call out the all-good.
"Emmett!" Her voice is thick with fear, and it instantly moves my body towards her.
"Mom?!" I round the corner with my axe, scanning the room for the threat. She was pointing the gun at the threat in question, a middle-aged man, also pointing a gun at her.
"Woah, woah, woah man!" I keep my gaze fixed on his firearm, ready to attack if he moves an inch. "Why don't you put the gun down?" His eyes flit from Mom to me, and I see him read my t-shirt as he assesses the situation. She had been wearing scrubs for the last few weeks since there was an abundance of them at the hospital, which allowed her to move and be comfortable. I only had what I took from my station locker, so I wore my station t-shirt and cargo pants. We were dirty but obviously hadn't been in the worst of it yet.
"Her first," he nodded to Monica, and she looked at me wide-eyed. Her hands shook like a leaf, and she looked more pitiful than intimidating holding the pistol. I gave her a short nod, and she lowered the firearm and backed up until she was a step behind me.
The man lowered his gun, and with my focus no longer on the weapon, I noticed the young boy lingering behind him. "You were a firefighter?" He asked, and confirmed, letting my axe fall to the ground, no longer on the defensive. This man was trying to protect his son, and I can respect that.
"Yes, sir," The boy behind him looked around his father and stared at us curiously. It had been weeks since I'd seen a kid. Well, an alive one at that.
"I'm Morgan; this is Duane." He didn't move towards us while opening up, keeping a safe distance in case anything went south. "Have you been in town long, or are you just passing through?"
"Emmett. Monica," I point to Mom. "We've been in at the hospital," I answer, and Duane's eyebrows furrow, looking up at his dad.
"I was a nurse there," Monica says quietly. "My job primarily consisted of looking after comatose patients." Morgan nods slowly and holds a hand to Duane, who looks like he wants to pipe in.
"It's been our home base from the start. We only started venturing out this week."
"Can I ask why? Why did you start going out this week?" Monica looked at me and silently urged me to answer. I hesitated—this was the first person we'd encountered in almost two months, and I wasn't sure if I could trust him.
She speaks up for me. "There was a man at the hospital. A gurney barricaded his room, and he survived the initial outbreak." She steps out and explains more. I try not to roll my eyes at her naivety. "He was my patient before, so we stayed to watch over him and try and keep him alive. We left for two days to get some supplies, and when we came back, he was gone. We thought he may be here."
" ?" Duane finally intercepted. Mom looked at me hopefully, but I still stared at the two strangers. "Dad, do you think they mean ?"
"Yes! My son knew him from before, ya know? First responders and all." Monica smiled. At least she didn't tell them how Rick really met us—arresting me at 18.
"We were with him for a day or so. He just left this morning." Morgan continued to fill us in, and Mom looked hopeful. We stepped away for a moment to come up with a new plan.
"Atlanta?" I rub the back of my neck. "I don't think the city is a smart move."
"You said we owe it to him—that he saved your life?" She gave me a hard-pressed look, and for the first time since the world ended, she didn't look scared. "It was your idea to look for him."
I chuckle lightly and shake my head. "You're right. I'm surprised you're so adamant on venturing out."
She looked at me with pursed lips. "Honestly…me too. I spent my whole life taking care of those who needed help. He was my last patient, and that doesn't stop just because the rest of the world did. If we don't find him, we can go out to the country like you want."
Morgan gave us a rifle and another handgun for the road. He said Rick cleared out the rest of the gun locker. "Good luck out there. I have a radio. Rick said we would communicate in the mornings to see if it's safe out there. Hopefully, I'll hear your names soon." I shake his hand and smile at him and Duane.
"Thanks, you too." I shake his hand and smile at him and Duane. We take a car from the motor pool and start our drive towards the city. Mom is going through her pack in the passenger seat, full of first aid supplies, electrolyte packages, and protein bars. Mine sits in the back seat with the rest of our supplies. As we pass out of town, I can't help but let my eyes linger on the sign.
Thank you for visiting Kings County!