Jacqueline Druga - Salvation

But as she peered ahead, thinking about where they’d stop for the night, looking out for the best place, the green suddenly stopped.

It reminded her of just before they were attacked. How everything looked dead. “John?” She called his name with concern.

“Hmm?”

“I think we went off course.”

John looked up. “Shit. Turn around. We don’t need another Wrecker experience.”

“I could not agree more.” Meredith slowed down the buggy until it came to a complete halt. Just as she placed her hand on the gearshift, her heart dropped to her stomach when a lone Wrecker emerged from the dry brush.

“It’s just one. Only one.” John said. “We can beat just one.”

“Let’s not take that chance.” As Meredith started to reverse, the Wrecker cried out. It sounded like a cry for attention. The Wrecker held out his hands, palms outward.

Meredith stopped.

“What are you doing?” John asked.

“Why is he doing that,” she said. “He wants us to stop.”

“It’s a trap.”

Again, the Wrecker cried out, only this time, he dropped to his knees. His call had an agonizing tone to it, almost begging. Hands still up in surrender, his head lowered. When he did, from the side of the road a female Wrecker emerged. In her arms, was the lifeless body of what could only be a child.

The female cried out as well. Meredith put the buggy in park.

“What are you doing?” John asked demandingly. “Meredith?”

“They can’t all be bad.” She said softly.

“Uh, yeah, they can.”

Meredith stepped from the car.

“Stop.” John warned. “I won’t save you this time.”

Meredith looked over her shoulder. “You didn’t last time.”

“Bull.” John grunted.

She could hear his frustration. But Meredith also saw desperation in the mutated beings before her. A mother, a male who was the father perhaps, with their sick or injured child. The male lifted his head and the woman rushed to Meredith with the child in her arms.

“Is he sick?” Meredith asked. “Hurt.” It was hard for Meredith to tell. She didn’t know what the Wreckers normally looked like, so it was difficult to judge if the child was.

The female Wrecker grunted, face wet from tears and held the child out some as if to say, ‘Look’.

Hand trembling, Meredith reached out. The child was small. Maybe three or four years old. Her hand touched on the child’s face. Immediately, she pulled back and curled her fingers into a fist. “He’s fevered.” After a second, Meredith took another look. It was a boy. Again, she felt his hot skin, then held up a finger to the mother to convey ‘give me a second’.

Slowly Meredith spoke. She knew they didn’t understand her. “I have to go back to the buggy. I have a medical bag.” Meredith stepped back.

The female Wrecker grabbed her arm with pleading eyes.

“I’ll be back,” Meredith said. “I…” She exhaled. “Okay. Let me see if John will bring it.” She didn’t want to ask John. She understood his apprehension. Meredith was also feeling it. But what if these Wreckers were different? What if they really needed help? And the ones a hundred miles away on the cusp of the wastelands were the bad ones. Could she take that chance? She was going to yell back. Obviously the Wrecker woman didn’t want her to leave. As if the Wrecker knew or felt somehow Meredith could help her. When she looked over her shoulder to call for him, he was already one step ahead.

John, carrying the medical bag, walked toward Meredith. “Call me a fool,” he said. “I wouldn’t do this if I weren’t stoned.”

“Yes, you would.” Meredith took the bag.

“Yeah well the big guy just stood up.”

Meredith watched the male Wrecker stand by the female. She showed the bag to the mother. After pointing to the bag, Meredith then pointed to the child. “It’s to help him.” She nodded. “Ok?”

The female Wrecker understood and released a sound that could only be described as a sob of gratefulness. She gave a single clutch to Meredith’s arm, turned to the male and handed him the child. The child was still, he didn’t move and the male walked off the road toward the brush.

The female Wrecker gently took Meredith’s arm and waved her to ‘come’.

“Oh,” John said. “They want us to join them. How wonderful.”

After giving John a scolding look, Meredith walked with the female Wrecker, leaving it up to John whether he followed or not. She was certain he would. John had just proved he was a lot softer than he let on.

So this is it? This is where I end? Those were Malcolm’s thoughts as he sat in that room for hours, a hospital room that looked more like a dormitory that had the windows sealed off. Medical workers in Hazmat suits brought him broth and a cup of coffee. It wasn’t bad, considering Malcolm used to love his coffee. But what choice did he have? No one would talk to him at all. They had taken a lot of blood from him; he could only guess what that was about.

Finally after all day being alone, not hearing from Trey, being in essence a leper, someone finally came in. She didn’t wear protective clothing or a facemask. She was an attractive woman, young, about thirty, wearing a dark gray uniform jumpsuit. Her dark brown hair was pulled up and tucked neatly into a bun.

“Mr. Lowe.” She extended her hand. She clutched a folder in her other arm close to her chest. “I’m Maggie Glenn, Chief Medical Officer of infectious diseases, SalCom Division Nineteen.”

Malcolm shook her hand. “SalCom?”

“I’m sorry you wouldn’t know that, Salvation Command. Will you have a seat?” She asked and pointed to the small table in the hospital room.

“Yes.” Malcolm sat.

“How are you feeling? How is the arm?”

“Better thank you.”

“I’m sorry we’ve not had you on anything but a liquid diet. The test are complex and we need very little influence.”

“I understand.”

“We’ll get you some real food once we are done. How is our coffee?”

Malcolm lifted his cup. “Not bad.”

“Not quite the… Oh what was it back then… Starbucks, yes?”

“Nothing really is.”

Maggie smiled. “Mr. Lowe…”

“Call me Malcolm.”

“Malcolm. Thank you.” She said. “Malcolm, from this moment on I would like you to be one hundred percent honest with me. I’ll do the same.”

“Begging your pardon… Chief Officer…”

She waved out her hand. “Just Maggie will be fine.”

“Begging you pardon Maggie, but I just regained consciousness. I didn’t have a choice to be honest or dishonest.”

“That makes sense. You know the man that brought you in here is your son?”

“I do.” Malcolm nodded.

“Probably was very frightening for you.”

“Yeah, considering he was seventeen three weeks ago to me.”

“Does he know?” Maggie asked.

“I think so. But I don’t want him in any trouble, so I won’t say for certain.”

“He’s not in trouble. We are.”

Malcolm tilted his head in wonder. “I’m sorry.”

“Let me start by saying the prospect of your revival is fascinating. There were rumors about the president being in stasis, tucked away. We knew the virus was deliberately released. What we need to know if what a handful of you were…”

“Handful?” Malcolm shook his head. “No. In our unit, our complex, there were a hundred. But it failed. Nearly everyone died.”

“Do you know…?”

“What is the president saying? He knows more than us. Obviously.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because he’s here,” Malcolm said. “He came here on his own. Didn’t say squat to any of us. Actually, we thought he was dead. He disappeared. How did he find this place?”