Dark of Winter: Prepper Book Two

Chapter VIII: Awakenings

"Yeah, but you broke that too. Remember?"

"Nothing that can't be repaired. We'll fix it up, you can give it to Heath when he turns fourteen."

The mention of Heath snaps me back to my most pressing concern of the moment. "Shit," I say, checking my watch. "I gotta get to the hospital."

"No problem, we'll take care of things here." Jake says.

I head back in the house with Merida at my heel, I can't go to the hospital looking like I took part in a chainsaw massacre, but cleaning up without running hot water is no easy task. It takes me twenty minutes and a combination of hand sanitizer, baby wipes and a cold water shave before I look even half-assed human again. I put on some clean clothes, grab my gear and head for the  hospital with more than a little trepidation weighing heavily on my heart.

* * * * *

The surgery is already underway when I arrive at the hospital and it takes me fifteen long minutes just to locate someone useful to talk to. Eventually I make it to Sabine who then connects me with Freya, Nell and Hartt, who all look as tired as I feel. It's been a long night for everyone.

"We had a bit of a wait," Nell informs me. "The had to send a runner to page the surgeon at his home. But, Heath was still stable going into surgery, just a matter of waiting now."

"You guys can take off, I can take it from here," I say. "I can't thank you enough for what you've all done for me these past few hours."

"Did you get the guy?" Freya asks.

I nod.

"Did you kill him?" she inquires.

I just shake my head.

"Why? Why the hell not?"

"I would have, but... it's a long story. Ari and Jake are watching him. How much did you tell the hospital when you admitted Heath?"

"We said that he had an accident," Heath answers. "Our story was a bit sketchy, including the fact that none of us are related to him, not sure how much they believed, but they admitted him all the same."

"Good enough," I say. "Why don't you guys get going, everyone needs some rest. I'll just hang out here and wait for Heath."

"Okay chief," Hartt says. "I'll ask Sabine to keep an eye on you."

"Thanks."

The trio departs with little fanfare save a few hugs, Sabine locates a quiet waiting room where I can bide my time in a private setting away from prying eyes and uncomfortable questions. Despite my heavy eyes, I can't sleep. I unzip a pocket on my pack and pull out a small multi-band radio and a set of earphones. Scanning the FM band reveals nothing but silence, AM is the same with the exception of a single, crackling, static-filled signal full of incoherent noise. It's not until I switch to shortwave that I start to pick up any stations.

The first english-speaking broadcast I come across is a lady, she claims to be broadcasting from the Mojave desert in the southwest United States. There is nothing united about it anymore though. Her cadence and intonation is precise, it sounds like a military broadcast:

"...scouts returning from Los Angeles, San Diego and Las Vegas all report high risk environments these areas should be avoided at all costs, open war is being waged in the streets. We lost contact with our team scouting the San Francisco area..."

Sounds like anarchy no matter where you go. Then again the entire nation is embroiled in a civil war with close to a dozen factions blowing each other to bits over little pieces of territory deemed to be favourable for one reason or another. Initially the violence seemed to have at least some political context, but the initial belligerents have since fractured into a bunch of splinter groups, there is no one in charge.