Nathan Jones - First Winter

The family left only nine days before the Retaliation, and listened with horror along with everyone else to the accounts of a direct nuclear strike against their former home. Langstrom considered it an act of Providence that they’d gotten out in time.

Since then the community had been encouraged to relocate to the mountains where it was more defensible. Suddenly lacking prospects, Langstrom had joined up with the military again. That had worked well during the blockhead siege, and he’d saved a lot of lives. Then the blockheads left and the military packed up to chase them, and he was faced with a choice of going with them and either taking his family into danger or leaving them to an uncertain fate, or remaining behind and administering medical care in a refugee camp.

He’d chosen the refugee camp.

In spite of military promises and his value as a doctor, conditions had been poor there. Lodgings were bad, food was scarce, and Langstrom was deeply worried about hygiene in the camp. To add to that, with the blockheads gone people were starting to get restless; they wanted to leave, but not on their own.

What they wanted was for the military to give them a place to go, somewhere they could start building a new life and preparing for the winter. The military, lacking manpower and critically low on resources even with its windfall, could barely keep the camp operational. Violence began breaking out, and criminal activity in the camp exploded. In response the military began cracking down hard, enacting curfew and other restrictive measures.

Which left Langstrom massively overworked seeing to the burgeoning wounded, his staff thinning out as people abandoned their positions since they weren’t being compensated for their work, and his family suffering deprivation and in constant danger with their freedoms severely restricted.

“I don’t want to abandon the injured there,” he finished in a heavy voice, head down and eyes on his long, graceful hands folded on his knees. “But the situation was untenable. I’m not willing to let my family suffer if I can do anything about it. So when I heard that a town that was doing fairly well was inviting qualified people to join them, I decided it was the chance we’d been looking for.”

“You sound like just what we’re looking for as well,” Matt said, “but we’d like to ask some questions.” He motioned. “This is our current doctor, Terry Lynn. He’s already looked over your credentials and declared them more than impressive.”

Even though they’d already been introduced Terry offered his hand, and Langstrom shook again. “I was only an intern before all this, Doctor,” Matt’s brother-in-law said, almost apologetically. “I have only the utmost respect for your experience, but I need to ask you some specific questions regarding your qualifications.”

“I understand,” Langstrom said gravely.

Terry may have been thrust into being the town doctor when it was all over his head, but he’d risen to the task as well as he was able, and saved lives. And now that he was being faced with replacement or at least demotion by a skilled surgeon, he rose to this task as well. He’d carefully thought out his questions, and presented them respectfully.

Most of it was hard for Matt to follow, a shockingly long list of surgical procedures Terry wanted to know if Langstrom had previously performed or could perform, as well as his statistics for complications during operations or in post-op recovery.

But some things were easier to understand. Like Langstrom’s experience in low-tech surgeries since the Gulf burned, and how well the surgeon thought he could operate with limited supplies and in poor conditions, without the aid of any of the usual equipment found in hospital operating rooms.

It turned out Langstrom had a wry sense of humor to go with his experience and skill. “You want to know how well I can cut a person open while blindfolded and using a butter knife?” he asked. “Or if I can suture him up with yarn and a knitting needle afterwards?”

Terry smiled wanly. “In a matter of speaking.”

The surgeon sat back, drawing a deep breath. “I’ve performed hundreds of surgeries of all kinds since the Gulf refineries attack. I’ve operated under the worst of conditions, using improvised tools sometimes.” Pain crossed his features, the pain of failure with disastrous results. Matt understood that pain himself. “I did the best I could. The operations didn’t always turn out well, and I learned some hard lessons. If you’re asking about statistics, I’m afraid mine became far, far worse after the world collapsed around me.”

“Understandable,” Terry said sympathetically. He also understood that pain.

Langstrom straightened. “But I’m ready to make the best of any situation, and do the finest job I can with whatever I’m given. I’ll pull my weight in this community, and provide more than enough value to make up for the resources my family needs.”

That seemed to conclude the interview. There were a few more handshakes all around as they headed back out for the next interviewee. That would be Langstrom’s wife Bernice: if the surgeon was invited in, which was almost certain, then of course his family would be too, and his services would more than make up for the added resources consumed.

But as Lewis had suggested, if possible the ideal situation was for the family members to also have useful skills. The Langstroms’ young son Bryce couldn’t reasonably expected to contribute much at his age, but Bernice’s hobby before the Gulf burned had been sewing and quilting, and before her marriage she’d been a grade school teacher. Not vital skills, maybe, but they could definitely aid the community.

On the way out the surgeon pulled Matt aside. “I referred members of my staff from camp for recruiting that are here as well, but not everyone was invited. Your interviewing process seems rigorous, so I’m guessing some of them probably won’t make the cut either.”

Matt nodded. “We appreciate the recommendations, but while doctors are always valued our resources are limited. We have to prioritize specific specializations like your trauma surgery, dentistry, and a couple others.” He looked at the man’s slightly uncomfortable expression. “Was there someone you wanted to make it?”

Langstrom nodded. “Ideally everyone, of course. They’re all friends and trusted colleagues. But my main concern is Margaret Johnson, who’s my wife’s good friend. She’d be crushed if Maggy had to go back to the camp.”

The name made Matt relax a little. “Well the town also has a serious need for OB/GYNs. While I make no guarantees, just as we still haven’t agreed on accepting your family even though your chances are almost certain, I can safely say your wife and her friend probably won’t be separated.”

The older man relaxed too, and smiled. “Thank you for the reassurance. Dr. Johnson really is one of the most qualified OB/GYNs I know, with decades of experience in childbirth and numerous house calls.”

Matt felt a surge of relief. He’d read Dr. Johnson’s resume, of course, but it was much better to hear from a reliable source, which Langstrom seemed to be. “I am very, very glad to hear that.”

The surgeon noticed Matt’s expression and seemed to make the connection. “Ah. Your wife?”

“Not just my wife,” Matt said, trying not to sound defensive. “But yes, she’s due in a couple months.”

The older man clasped his shoulder for a moment in understanding. “She’ll be in good hands, you have my word on it.”

Matt nodded gratefully. “Thanks.” He nodded out the door, where the committee was waiting. “Speaking of wives, we’re looking forward to meeting yours and getting acquainted with her. And you’re probably ready to eat.”