Glen Tate - 299 Days - The Stronghold

There were some guards at the entrance to the hospital. The parking lot was empty, except for a few vandalized and burned out cars. The lights were off for several floors of the hospital. Looking at the outside of the hospital, it seemed like it wasn’t open.

That was an odd thought: the hospital might not be open. Hospitals were always open. Twenty-four hours a day; they never “closed.” But it looked like Frederickson General Hospital might actually be closed. It was hard for Cindy to come to grips with this sight.

Bennington told Rich, “Slow down. Then stop here,” Bennington pointed to a barrel about twenty-five yards from the guards, “and keep your arm band out the window.” When the truck stopped, Bennington waved at the guards and yelled, “They’re with me. Official business.”

The guards nodded. Bennington got out and pointed toward the back of the truck at Pow and Ryan. “They’re with me, too.”

The guards nodded again.

Bennington went to the back of the truck and said to Pow and Ryan, “You guys can stay out here. No need to come in. I’ve got it covered.”

Pow and Ryan didn’t believe Bennington. Their instructions were to protect Cindy, her medical supplies, and Rich and that’s what they were going to do. They looked at Rich through the window of the extended cab. Rich mouthed, “It’s cool.”

“OK,” Ryan said. Besides, Rich was armed. He only carried a pistol, but could take care of things. Ryan and Pow knew that there was a system when picking up black market products: The cops and, sometimes the customers, are the only armed ones. The customers’ armed escorts—especially extremely heavily armed escorts like them—needed to stay outside. It was like a drug deal, except that it was the government selling people medical supplies. Kind of the same thing, really.

Bennington went to the front of the truck and opened Cindy’s extended cab door and helped her out. Manners were still alive and well in Collapse America.

Bennington went over to Rich’s door and motioned for him to get out. Pow and Ryan felt vulnerable in that parking lot. They could be hit by snipers from several directions. They did not feel comfortable just sitting there, but they didn’t want to make any moves and get shot by the guards. They nervously scanned the parking lot and the guards for threats. Things were quiet. There were virtually no cars. It was warm with a slight breeze. It was peaceful, in a weird way. It was like the pace of life had slowed down to a trickle. But, it wasn’t relaxing. They expected to be shot at any minute.

Bennington led Rich and Cindy toward the guards. Bennington pointed to Rich’s arm band and the guards nodded. People nodded a lot during the Collapse. It was like they didn’t have things to say, just to verify that they understood things like “this guy will be coming toward you, so don’t shoot him.”

Cindy was getting physically ill as she looked at what used to be the beautiful hospital. Trash was everywhere. It looked like people had been camped out in the parking lot and just left their garbage. She saw some baby diapers on the ground. That really hurt her. People must have been camping out with their kids waiting for care. Did they get care? Were they turned away? Did they get killed?

Oh God. Cindy kept saying that. Oh God. She put her hand up to her mouth because she thought she might throw up.

The next shock to Cindy was the entrance. Some bullet holes crumbled the cement walls. It looked like a scene from the Middle East. There were only about five bullet holes, but it was still something she never thought she’d see at a hospital. Or anywhere else. There were shell casings on the ground. Not too many. It didn’t look like there was a big gun fight there, just some shots.

Then she saw it. A huge red stain on the pavement at the entrance to the hospital. It must have been gallons of blood. Someone had tried to clean it up as well as they could. There were splotches in different places. It looked like there had been lots of people, bleeding in lots of different places. The red stains were various colors. Some of it must have been from weeks ago and other stains from days ago. It reminded Cindy of the slaughterhouse she visited as a kid. Only this was human slaughtering.

Then the smell hit her. It smelled like that distinctive hospital smell, but with the added overpowering smells of strong cleaning agents, vomit, body odor, and…death. It smelled like death.

Cindy didn’t want to keep walking. She wanted to run back to the truck and go home. She actually stopped walking and thought about going back to the truck. Then she got a hold of herself and kept walking.

She was a nurse; a professional who helped people. She had a job to do; a very important job, and she would do it. She would not let people down. There were other little Tonys out there who needed help. She couldn’t help him now, but she could help others. She started to cry. Rich and Bennington tried to ignore it, although it was hard. A crying woman is always something hard to ignore.

They walked through the dimly lit entrance. The lights were on, just not many of them. Cindy listened for the hum of the generators that went on during the drills before the Collapse. She didn’t hear them. They weren’t on generator power, but still only had partial lighting. Cindy wondered why.

Then she saw the reception area and knew why. It was empty. They didn’t have many lights on because there were almost no staff or patients there. With all the need for medical care out there, Cindy could not understand why the place wasn’t crowded.

“Where are all the patients?” she asked Bennington.

He shrugged. “There was a big rush here after about May Day,” he said. “Way too many people. It overwhelmed the hospital, so they had to put up security.” Bennington looked down at the ground again, a sure sign that he was ashamed of something. He paused, “It got a little violent, but all the people were scattered. Just not enough doctors or supplies for them.”

Rich, who was curious by nature, asked, “If there weren’t enough supplies, why are we getting some today?” Once again, Rich regretted asking such a question.

Bennington got red in the face. He tried to get his composure. He realized that getting mad wouldn’t change anything. But he was so tired. He hadn’t a good night’s sleep since May Day, and he felt himself starting to get pissed.

“Why are you getting some today?” Bennington angrily asked. “Because you paid for them, dumbass.” Bennington just stared at Rich. “Don’t ask stupid questions any more. Seriously, Rich. Shut the fuck up. OK?”

Bennington realized he was yelling at a potential ally, so he tried to smooth it over with Rich. He used a calm tone and said, “Sorry. After the rush here, and when everyone got turned away, word went out that the hospital was closed. It pretty much was. They were out of supplies. A truckload came in about a week ago. It was a small truckload. We didn’t tell people it was here because we’d just have to beat them back again,” Bennington said, once again looking down toward the ground. “There’s maybe five doctors and a dozen nurses on duty now. We let emergency personnel come in here. That’s it. Oh,” he added, and once again he looked at the ground, “and private-pay customers.”

So this was government-run health care, Rich thought. A smashing success. It sucked before the Collapse, but now was non-functioning. Except for government people and “private-pay” customers. “Private-pay,” as in people who brought in AR-15s and a case of ammo.

As they continued to walk down the hall toward the back of the hospital, they saw a few people. Some visitors of patients. One woman and a little girl had flowers. As they walked past them, Cindy heard the woman say to the girl, “Daddy is going to get better.” Maybe he was a cop or politician or something.