Glen Tate: 299 Days: The Stronghold

As they turned down the next hall toward the medical supply storage area and pharmacy, there were four guards. Two were Blue Ribbon Boys and the other two were FC. All of them had military rifles. Rich thought this must be where the good stuff is.

The guards had a radio and apparently were told that Bennington and his guests would be coming. Rich prominently showed his armband and Bennington nodded. They stopped several yards in front of the guards.

“Lt. Bennington, we’ve been expecting you,” one of the FC said. It sounded so weird to Rich to hear Sgt. Bennington being called “Lieutenant.”

Bennington motioned for Cindy to hand the clipboard to the FC guard. She did. He looked it over and told the others to open the door.

“Only she goes in,” the FC guard said.

“OK,” Rich said. He looked at Cindy and she indicated that this was OK. She wondered if this was some kind of trap, but she realized that Rich had to stay if that’s what the guards said.

One of the FC guards went into the room with Cindy. He handed her a shopping cart, which looked so odd there in the hospital. He just stood at the entrance watching her, which creeped her out. But she had a job to do and it was almost over.

When Cindy was in the medical supply storage area, she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She had never seen it so bare. There was almost nothing there. It was surreal. It was like seeing the always-full shelves at the grocery store empty for the first time. Cindy had seen those empty grocery store shelves a week ago, so this shouldn’t look too odd, but it did.

The magnitude of this tragedy was unfolding in her mind. If this is all the medical supplies the biggest hospital in the county had…

Cindy knew where most things were, so she assumed it would go quickly. She pushed the shopping cart down the aisles like she was shopping. They had about two thirds of what she needed. They had some things she didn’t have on her list. She started to put them in her cart, but paused. Was this OK? Would she get shot? She thought she better ask.

Cindy went back to the entrance where the FC was standing and asked, “You don’t have some of these things, but do have some other things. Can I make substitutions?”

“As long as you aren’t trying to get things from the pharmacy, then it’s fine,” he said. He didn’t give a crap about these medical supplies. It was the painkillers and anesthesia that was worth the big bucks.

Cindy nodded and started making snap substitution decisions. She hoped she got it right. She didn’t want to be trying to save a patient’s life and think, “I could have got some of what I need back when I was getting supplies but didn’t think we’d need this.” Her mind was racing. She had to get it right.

Finally, Cindy had what she needed, or at least her best guess of what was needed. She brought her cart up to the guard. He looked over the items, asked for her clipboard, and attempted to compare the items to the clipboard. He really didn’t have any idea what he was doing, he was just told that he needed to do it. He said, “OK, now to the pharmacy.”

Cindy followed him. They went out the door to the door across the hall. The FC guard had a separate key for the pharmacy.

They went in and, once again, Cindy was struck by how abandoned the place seemed. Most of the pharmacy was empty. There was a big bloodstain near the door in the reception area. It looked like someone had come to the reception desk, gotten shot, and ran out the door. Probably a drug seeker. It must have been horrible to be a pharmacist during all this.

The FC guard took her clipboard again. Politely, but firmly. He looked it over. “I will get these for you,” he said. There was no way they would let someone from the outside just walk through the pharmacy with all those valuable drugs; tiny pills could easily be slipped into pockets.

He came back with very few pill bottles. “We’re a little low on painkillers, but we have extra liquid anesthesia for you.” Apparently there was less of a street market for liquid anesthesia.

“That’s fine,” Cindy said. “We need the liquid more, anyway.”

The guard went back and returned with various vials and bottles. He showed her what he had and they checked things off the list. Apparently, this guard had some pharmacy knowledge.

He put it all in the shopping cart, which was full by now, and said, “I think you’re done.”

“OK,” Cindy said, realizing that she had no power to say otherwise.

Cindy and the guard left. As he was locking the door to the pharmacy, she looked back. The place looked so empty and abandoned. So dead, and so cold.

They walked out. Rich, Bennington, and the other guards were there.

“That was quick,” Bennington said. He was glad this was going smoothly. He had other business to do for Commissioner Winters before lunch.

Rich asked, “Did you get everything you need?” Rich realized that while he didn’t have a lot of leverage here, a deal was a deal. Bennington had promised the items on the clipboard and Rich wasn’t going to leave without them, unless they pulled a gun on him. Then he’d have to.

“Pretty much,” Cindy said. “They didn’t have some things, but let me substitute for others. It’ll be fine.” She hoped that she had thought of everything they’d need on her one and only shopping trip to the hospital for supplies.

Rich, ever the gentlemen, offered to push the cart for Cindy. They walked back through the halls and saw a few nurses and one doctor. They saw two patients. It was about 5% of the activity Cindy was used to at the hospital. It seemed so empty. But, it was even weirder that there was a little activity than if the hospital had been entirely closed. Cindy had never conceived of a hospital operating at 5% capacity. She couldn’t fit what she was seeing into any mental template.

They walked outside and there were Pow and Ryan sitting in the back of the truck. Bennington motioned to the parking lot guards that everything was OK.

As Rich and Cindy got to the truck, Pow asked, “Everything go OK?”

Cindy started bawling. Pow and Ryan were startled. They wondered what had happened.

“Yeah, we got what we need,” Rich said. Bennington was silent. He was tired of having days like this. Tired of women crying. Tired of all this. Tired of Winters and all this corruption.

Everyone was quiet on the drive back. The shock of seeing all the destruction in Frederickson had worn off. Cindy had stopped crying by now. She was trying her best to stop so she didn’t alarm the others.

“Hey, I need some gas,” Rich said to Bennington. He had a full tank, but brought a few five-gallon gas cans. “Where is the best place to get some?” By “best place” Rich meant the approved gang gas station.

Bennington pointed toward the Mexican sector. He wasn’t in a talkative mood. Once they got close to the Mexican gas station, Bennington asked, “What you got to pay for this?”

Rich said, “I have some cash.” Drew had volunteered more of his stash, which Rich greatly appreciated.

“How much?” Bennington asked.

“How much a gallon?” Rich responded.

“For cash? Probably $100 a gallon. I’ll go see.” Bennington got out of the truck and talked to the Mexican man running the station. Bennington came back.

“Yep. $100 a gallon,” Bennington said.

Rich got out Drew’s envelope of cash. He pulled out $1,000. He counted it out to Bennington.

“Ten gallons for this gentlemen,” Bennington said to the Mexican man.

Rich started to get out of the truck to get the gas cans and pump the gas. Bennington stopped him and said, “Nope. No self-service. We’d hate for people to ‘accidently’ put in more gas than they paid for. Not worth dying just because you put in an extra gallon, know what I mean?”