Deep Shadows Page 13

  “Did you?”

  “A modified version.” Bhatti turned toward him. “I swore to fulfill, to the best of my ability and judgment, a covenant. That doesn’t include treating people outside my specialty amid conditions that are… less than ideal.”

  “If you’re worried about being sued, I think we’re way past that.”

  “Easy enough for a lawyer to say.”

  “Dr. Bhatti, I hope and pray that our legal system can withstand this unprecedented collapse of our infrastructure.” Max stood, energy surging through him as his anger spiked. “I can assure you that no judge is going to be listening to medical malpractice suits anytime in the near future.”

  Instead of answering, Bhatti shook his head and again turned away.

  “You don’t know the people of Abney like I do. They will appreciate any help you can give.”

  “People seldom appreciate, though they are quick to second-guess and place blame.”

  Something in the man’s tone hinted of past battles, but Max didn’t have time to delve into his history.

  “What if I can provide you a place to live, as well as food?”

  Food supplies the mayor had offered in lieu of payment. A place to live, well—that idea had popped into Max’s mind out of desperation.

  Bhatti turned and faced him, and for the first time the man didn’t seem defeated. “You’re offering me a room?”

  “Yes. In my home. I have an extra bedroom. The house is small, modest even. Not what you’re accustomed to in Westlake, but no one is using it right now. I’ll even come over tomorrow with my truck and take you there.”

  “If I agree to treat the patients in your nursing home and your hospital?”

  “If the hospital needs you, yes. And don’t forget the death certificates.”

  “Yes, those need attention.”

  “We realize it’s a lot for one man. Hopefully more of our doctors will find their way back to Abney.”

  “And you can guarantee that I will have food to eat?”

  “As long as there is food to be had, the mayor gives you her word that you will receive supplies. We’re not stupid, Dr. Bhatti. We realize that without additional medical personnel, this situation could quickly slide into a crisis.”

  “You are already in a crisis, and you don’t even know it yet.”

  “Is that a yes? You’ll help us?”

  Instead of answering, Bhatti stepped forward and offered that age-old form of agreement—a handshake.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Shelby struggled to stay awake until Max got home. She pulled her reading chair and ottoman to the front window and sat there, watching out toward the street. Not that she could see much. Without the streetlamps, only the aurora offered any light, and it came and went.

  The night was warm, but she’d insisted on keeping the windows closed. How could she protect Carter if their windows were unlocked? It would be open season for anyone to sneak in, steal what little supplies they had, or even kill them in their sleep.

  What would they do for food?

  How would they care for the sick and the elderly?

  After arriving home from church, she’d dug out an old backpack that she’d used while taking college classes—mostly at night or when her parents could babysit Carter. She’d managed to spread out a four-year degree over more than eight years, but she’d eventually finished. Now she planned to use the backpack for something even more important than learning. Pulling the medical supplies out of her shoulder bag, she’d placed them into the backpack, zipped it up, and set it beside her chair. She vowed to keep it within her sight at all times, and she found herself looking for it, confirming that it was there and that Carter’s medicine was safe.

  Six weeks’ worth of insulin. What would they do when it was gone?

  The questions bumped into one another, filling her with anxiety and a horrible feeling of helplessness. She would do anything for her child, but she couldn’t manufacture insulin. She couldn’t give him hers. She couldn’t go out and dig some up from a field. They were dependent on others—corporations, businesses, strangers. She hadn’t encountered anyone offering to sell medical supplies, and as far as she knew, all of the corporations and businesses were now out of business.

  But hope lingered. What had the president’s letter said? There are pockets of areas less affected than others. Perhaps some places still had electricity, and all she had to do was find out where. Once there, she would be able to purchase what they needed. She’d find the money, one way or another.

  Someone had money.

  Someone always did.

  Life as a single mom hadn’t been easy for Shelby. As a plan began to formulate in her mind, she found herself thanking God that she had grown tough and resilient over the years. She was no longer that young woman who had first faced life as a single mom—terrified and alone and unsure if she could provide and care for a child.

  She had and she would.

  Her Bible rested on her lap. She’d picked it up when she first pulled the chair over to the window. Now she opened it to the book of Job, flipping through the chapters until she found the verses Pastor Tony had mentioned. When the aurora brightened she could read the words.

  Do you know when the mountain goats give birth?

  Each time the aurora dimmed, she found herself drifting toward sleep. Her head would bow toward her chest until the aurora brightened. Then she would sit up straighter, look around, and refocus her attention on the page.

  Do you give the horse its strength or clothe its neck with a flowing mane?

  Slowly, hope filled her heart and a stubborn certainty filled her mind.

  Does the hawk take flight by your wisdom?

  She stopped staring at the street, searching for Max, and allowed her eyes to drift shut. It would be okay for her to rest for a moment until he returned.

  Suddenly Carter was standing in front of her, smiling, dressed in jeans and a new shirt, reminding her they would be late.

  The smell of pizza caused her stomach to growl. Plates were stacked on the end of a long table beside a pitcher of soda and another of tea. Glasses filled with ice glittered in the bright light of the restaurant.

  She worried about the choice of food—what it would do to Carter’s insulin level—but why not allow him this single night of celebration? One piece of pizza wouldn’t make that big of a difference, and if his numbers were off—well, that’s what the medicine was for.

  Suddenly the noise of a band filled the room. Actually, just a drummer. She remembered how Carter had tried the drums during middle school, and how relieved she was when his interest waned and he suggested they sell the set. But this drummer was pretty good, though his rhythm was punctuated by beats of silence.

  Bam, bam, bam. Pause. Bam, bam, bam. Pause.

  She glanced toward the front of the pizza parlor, wondering if perhaps the drummer was distracted. Or was she hearing music too?

  Max whispered, “If it’s too loud, you’re too old,” and then he smiled when she turned to swat him.

  Bam, bam, bam. Pause. Bam, bam, bam. Pause.

  The room shifted, and they were home. The beat continued, and she realized someone was trying to break in. She grabbed her phone and dialed 9-1-1, but nobody answered. The call rang and rang until it was picked up by an answering machine instructing her to leave her name and number. Jumping from her bed, she hurried down the hall, but Carter was gone—his window open, the blind tapping in the breeze.

  Bam, bam, bam. Pause. Bam, bam, bam. Pause.

  She turned to run. She had to find Carter, had to make sure he was safe—but as she slipped one leg over the windowsill, an explosion rocked the room, sending her sprawling back inside and onto the floor. Everything went black, quiet, but she could still smell the burning. Stay low, she told herself. The first aid class she’d taken had cautioned them to stay close to the floor if ever caught in a fire. Heat rises, so smoke will go up. Crawl out slowly, covering your mouth with something, wit
h anything.

  Except now she couldn’t breathe. She coughed, choking not on the smoke but on her own tears. Sobbing, she fought to crawl across the room, but she couldn’t move. Her arms weighed more than a thousand books, and her legs were pinned to the ground by her desk. When had it collapsed? Why couldn’t she wiggle free? Where was Carter? Desperation clawed at her throat as she realized something else was holding her down.

  “Stop fighting, Shelby. It’s okay. Calm down.”

  She woke to find Max crouched beside her chair, his arms around her, his voice low and steady in her ear.

  “What—” She struggled against him, but he held her securely in his arms.

  “It’s okay, Shelby. Calm down. You were just having a nightmare. Take a few breaths.”

  Only it wasn’t a dream because she could still smell something burning.

  “Where’s Carter—”

  “The front door was locked. I’m sure he’s asleep.”

  When she continued to struggle, Max said, “I’ll go and check on him. Promise me you’ll wait here.”

  She nodded, pulling in a deep breath and exhaling, forcing her mind to quiet.

  Max returned a moment later and sat on the ottoman in front of her. “He’s fine. He’s sound asleep.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I came over to tell you about the fire.”

  “Where—”

  “Downtown. I knocked, but you didn’t answer. When I heard your shouting, I let myself in with my key.”

  Max placed his hands on Shelby’s shoulders and rubbed them gently. His touch and the look of concern in his eyes were more than she could bear. She’d resisted her feelings for him for years, and she longed to collapse into his arms, to allow him to comfort and calm her.

  Instead she pulled away and buried her face in her hands. It had all been so real—her dream, her fear. She could still taste it in her mouth. It was all she could do not to run to Carter’s room and watch him breathe.

  “Are you okay?”

  Instead of answering him, she stood, walked to the front hall, and snatched her house keys off the hall table. “Tell me about the fire.”

  “The power lines broke. My guess is when they did, it sparked several blazes.”

  “But the transformer was already out.”

  Max shrugged. “The one south of town was. There’s another smaller substation on the east side. I suppose the flare overloaded it. Or maybe it was the buildup in the lines. Either way, there are several fires burning.”

  She opened the door and stopped so abruptly that Max bumped into her.

  “The aurora—”

  “It stopped a few minutes ago.”

  “There will be pulses. It’ll probably come back again.”

  “It can’t do much more damage than it’s already done.”

  “It sets everyone on edge, though.” The night air was filled with the acrid smell of her dreams. She pushed away the feelings the dream left behind—of fighting to crawl across the floor, of fearing for Carter’s safety. “Downtown… it’s burning?”

  “Some of it, but the fires won’t spread past the east side of town. You don’t have to worry about that. The blaze would have to jump Main Street.”

  “Carter is safe.” She pushed her fingers against her lips, denying voice to her worries and fears.

  “He’s safe.”

  “But there might be others who aren’t.”

  She turned back into the room, snatched up her backpack, and crammed it onto the bare bottom shelf of her refrigerator. Grabbing a pen and scrap of paper from the junk drawer, she scribbled a note telling Carter to stay in the house. A note was not really necessary. She was certain he would sleep through the night, because nothing short of a fire engine in his bedroom could wake him. But she taped the note to the inside of the door anyway, closed the door and locked it, and then she turned to Max, who was still waiting.

  She knew he needed to be downtown, helping with the fires. She had slowed him down, and his constant glances toward the horizon—a horizon that glowed with the light of the fires—confirmed that he was anxious to go.

  Shelby pushed past him, hurrying down the sidewalk. He jogged to catch up with her.

  “You don’t have to go. I wanted you to know what was happening. I didn’t want you…” He pulled her to a stop, looked down at his hand on her arm, and quickly stuck his hands into his back pockets. “I didn’t want you to be frightened.”

  “I’m awake now, Max. I’m not frightened, and I am going to help.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Like many small Texas towns, Abney’s downtown area was built on a square with the courthouse in the middle. Parking extended around the courthouse, and a paved area was bordered by a two-lane road that many of the teenagers “circled” on Friday nights. Max had done so himself all those years ago, with Shelby by his side. On the outer side of the road was a rim of buildings—a hardware store, a bank, restaurants, a tax office, law practices. The business of Abney took place around the square. Five years ago, the top floors of some of these buildings had been converted into apartments. The renovations were part of a downtown rejuvenation grant.

  Abney had grown over the years, and much of its expansion—large gas stations, fast-food joints, auto supply stores—happened on the edge of town or on the county road that intersected the town several blocks west of downtown.

  But the heartbeat of Abney? It was on the square, and now that square was on fire.

  Max told himself that a hundred men would already be there, including all of the Abney fire department. He convinced himself that the ten minutes he’d spent at Shelby’s wouldn’t matter much. Could one man make any difference amidst a multi-structure blaze?

  As they neared downtown, he heard the sound of breaking glass.

  “There.” Shelby pointed east and across the street. “At the jeweler’s.”

  Two people wearing hoodies had shattered the front window. Max could see one person filling a backpack with items, while another took a hammer to smash in the lock on the front door.

  Instinctively, he started toward them.

  “Don’t!” Shelby jerked him back.

  “We can’t just let them—”

  “We have to, Max.” She grabbed his hand, pulling him in the direction of the blaze.

  They covered the next two blocks quickly. People hurried toward the courthouse, coming from all directions. Some carried blankets and others had buckets. Max wasn’t sure what good either would be. When he and Shelby rounded the corner, they both stopped and stared. The scene before them was like something out of a disaster movie.

  The fire had engulfed all of the structures along the north side of the square—the bank, Western wear store, café, and flower shop were a burning mass of lumber and shingles and supplies. He couldn’t help glancing in the opposite direction, toward his office. He knew the words attorney and family law were stenciled on the windows, but he couldn’t see them through the smoke. He couldn’t see anything on that side of the square. He could only pray those buildings weren’t on fire too.

  Two fire trucks—one a ladder truck—had parked between the burning structures and the courthouse. A rescue squad stood between the fire trucks and their EMS vehicle, not attempting to enter the building. How could they? Without a fire hose to calm the blaze, it would be suicide.

  Flames crackled and poured from the windows at the top of the structures.

  Interior walls groaned as they collapsed.

  Smoke billowed in every direction.

  From where he stood, Max could feel the heat. As the southern portion of the fire found additional fuel, it seemed to explode outward, causing the emergency workers in front of it to take a step back.

  “How did it spread so quickly?” he muttered.

  The power lines running from one end of the block to the other had snapped in places, their poles leaning toward the flames.

  “How are we going to stop it?” Shelby pointed towa
rd the east side, where the fire was beginning to spread. As they watched, a line of grass stretching from the north side of the square to the east caught fire. Just before it hit the wall of the county tax office, a young man in a cowboy hat ran toward it, beat at the flames with a blanket, and succeeded in putting it out.

  In the center of the square, Danny Vail appeared to be directing volunteers. His face was covered with soot, his clothes dripping with sweat. As Max and Shelby hurried over to him, Max noticed the temperature around the square had to be ten degrees hotter than around his house.

  “Shelby, we need more people on the bucket brigade!” yelled Danny.

  “We have water?”

  “The springs at the park. You’ll have to backtrack a few blocks to get there.” Danny pointed in the direction they had come. “Go to the west at least two blocks before you turn back north.”

  Shelby didn’t wait for more instructions. She took off at a jog in the direction he’d indicated.

  “Bucket brigade?” Max asked.

  “Yeah. Jackson Young had the sense to open up his hardware store when the fire first started. We’re using everything that can hold water.”

  “I’ll go—”

  “We need you on the east side.”

  “But the north side—”

  “Is already gone. All we can do now is hope to keep it from spreading.” Danny pointed to a stack of blankets, no doubt also from Jackson’s hardware store.

  Max grabbed one and hurried past the fire trucks. The fire personnel were decked out in full gear—boots, helmets, coats and pants, gloves, and even hoods. Max heard one arguing with the fire chief, but Castillo wasn’t budging. “I said no one goes in until we have this blaze under control.”

  “But Cap—”

  “They’re already gone.” Castillo’s voice hardened. “We can’t save whoever was in there, but I will not lose more men on a fool’s errand.”

  By the time Max reached the east side, the fire was once again trying to cross the road. He could feel the heat of the pavement through his feet. He joined a line of men that he hadn’t been able to see when they had first entered the square, and together they beat at the perimeter of the fire with their blankets, trying to smother the flames that sought new fuel. He didn’t notice who stood to his right or left. Time slowed and eventually stopped altogether. Max focused all of his attention on his three feet of pavement, on doing his part to keep the blaze from consuming the heart of their town.