Blackout: A Tale Of Survival In A Powerless World- Book 1 Page 2

  “Med bay,” Ludo ordered, pointing toward one of the block buildings at the center of camp, this one with a bright blue cross painted on the front. “Everyone. Let’s go.”

  The medical bay was small but practical, more like a walk-in clinic than a hospital. It had room for ten patients at the most, a bed for each of them lined up against the concrete wall. Only two of them were occupied, one by a small boy with a plaster cast around his elevated foot and another by an elderly woman with a hacking cough. Jove directed Jacob to one of the free cots, where he lay Penny down and propped several pillows under her bleeding thigh. Pippa sank down on the bed next to her with a deep sigh.

  Two women emerged from the med bay’s office. The first was shorter than Nita, five feet tall at the most, but she exercised the energy of a lioness as she stalked toward us. The second was younger, in her early thirties maybe. She wrung her hands nervously as she trailed behind her superior.

  “What have we got?” the first woman barked.

  “Visitors,” Jove answered. He pointed to Penny. “This one needs your immediate attention, Jax. As for everyone else, I need screenings.” He turned to our group. “This is Jax, our head of medical, and Maddy, her assistant. No one leaves here until you’ve been cleared by one of them. Understood?”

  Jax didn’t bother to wait for our assent. She hip-checked Jacob to get him out of the way and unwrapped the gauze on Penny’s leg, wrinkling her nose as she checked the wound. “That’s a deep cut. It’s going to need to be flushed out and stitched up. Decent job on the wrappings though. Who did that?”

  Nita raised her hand. “That would be me?”

  Jax trained her laser-like gaze on Nita. “Are you an EMT or something?”

  “I’m a medical student,” Nita said. “General surgery.”

  Jax turned to Jove. “She’s mine. Don’t assign her anywhere else.”

  “I already assumed as much, darling,” Jove replied.

  “You,” Jax said, pointing at Nita. “Wash your hands and help me out. You—” She jabbed a finger at Maddy “—start the work-ups for everyone else. Let’s get through this as quickly as possible. I have other patients to tend to today.”

  Maddy clapped her hands together. “Not to worry, everyone. Our medical screenings are pretty routine. Any volunteers to go first?”

  I stepped forward.

  I HADN’T BEEN to the doctor in years. I avoided sterile offices unless it was absolutely necessary. My father’s descent into paranoia encompassed every facet of his life, including his opinion of the medical profession.

  “Quacks!” he barked at ten-year-old me. “They’re all quacks!”

  We had taken care of ourselves so well on the homestead that doctor’s visits became obsolete. Things changed when I left that life behind and moved to Denver. That first winter, I fought through a raging sinus infection, refusing to go to the doctor until my lungs filled with so much fluid that bronchitis and pneumonia set in. Antibiotics were a beautiful thing. I wondered how Camp Haven managed in that respect.

  Maddy examined me in a private room, going through all the motions. She listened to my heart, took my pulse, and measured my blood pressure. Then she shined a light into the back of my throat, my nose, and my ears, all while firing rapid questions at me.

  “Have you had any sort of infection in the last ten weeks?”

  “No.”

  “Are you taking any medications?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have a history of diabetes, cancer, or heart disease in your family?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “Are you allergic to anything?”

  “Stupidity, mostly.”

  “Are you sexually active?”

  “Yes.”

  On and on it went, until Maddy knew more about me and my personal history than Jacob did. Then she administered a “general” vaccine that was supposedly required to remain a resident of the camp, drew several vials of blood from a vein in my arm, and finished up by taping a piece of cotton to the pinprick on the inside of my elbow.

  “There you go,” she said, patting my shoulder. “Make sure you drink plenty of water today. You’ll need it to help replenish the lost blood.”

  “Can I ask you a question?” I flexed my arm experimentally, trapping the dollop of cotton in the crook of my elbow. “What’s all of this for? Is it really necessary?”

  Maddy taped labels to the vials of blood and stacked them neatly in a handy holder. “We screen every single person who comes into Camp Haven. We can’t risk spreading bacteria or viruses through the camp. We live in tight quarters. If one person gets sick, we all get sick. Then no one’s healthy enough to get the work done, and the whole camp suffers. It’s a vicious circle that we’d all like to avoid.”

  “Sounds like you learned this from experience.”

  She grimaced as she tossed the used needle in a bin marked with the biohazard symbol. “A few years ago, when we were less lax, someone returned from a trip into the city with a stomach flu. We figured it was food poisoning and let it go. A few days later, the whole camp was puking their guts up. You can’t imagine the smell.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Oh, I can.”

  “Now we quarantine the sick until they’re no longer contagious,” Maddy explained. “It’s safer and more comfortable for all us.”

  “Should I bother to ask what’s in that vaccine?”

  “No.”

  “Noted.”

  “Can I give you some advice?” Maddy asked, wiping the counter and the exam table with rubbing alcohol. “Keep your head down and do your work. Camp Haven functions best when no one stands out or makes trouble. From your haircut, I assume you like to stand out.”

  I rubbed the shaved portion of my head. “It’s more freedom of self-expression in my opinion.”

  “We forego a lot of freedoms here to keep this place running smoothly.” She caught sight of my tight-lipped expression and gave a wry smile. “You’ll get used to it. You should consider yourself lucky. You were the first to find us after the blast. Chances are Ludo won’t be so kind to the next group of people that wants in. How’d you do it anyway?”

  “Do what?”

  “Find us,” she clarified. “We’re not exactly on the map, you know?”

  “I used to live here,” I told her. “You built your little prepper camp on my father’s land.”

  Ludo knocked on the door to the exam room before she could process my answer. “Everybody decent?” he called.

  “Yes, sir,” Maddy replied.

  Ludo came in. “Has she been cleared?”

  “She checks off.”

  “Good.” He took my camo jacket from where it hung over the back of an extra chair and handed it to me. “Hop to it, Miss Fitz. It’s time for a tour of the compound.”

  I slipped my arms into the jacket and zipped it up. “What about my family?”

  “Jax and your medic friend are finishing up Mrs. Mason’s leg,” Ludo reported. “Maddy needs to examine the rest of them. I’ll have someone show them around the camp once they’re cleared, but for now, I’d like to talk to you about the way we run this place.”

  Maddy shot me a look. So much for flying under the radar. For whatever reason, Ludo had already singled me out. I hopped off the exam table. “All right. At your leisure.”

  Jove led me through a rear exit of the med bay so that we didn’t pass by the Masons again. Part of me was grateful. I had no desire to sit by Penny’s side, or help Pippa to the bathroom, or listen to Jacob babble on about the fissures in our relationship. I wanted to know more about Camp Haven and how it had come to be. Ludo’s tour was the first step in acquiring that information, though his skills as a guide lacked eloquence.

  “Mess hall,” he announced, pointing to the low building that I’d clocked on our way in. “Meals are served three times a day. Snacks are portioned out appropriately.” His finger drifted to the next structure over. “Community hall, which everyone calls DotCom
.”

  I shot him a look.

  “Bad joke, I know,” he admitted. “Anyway, that’s where we hold any camp-wide meetings or events when it’s too cold to do it outside. You already know the med bay. Over there’s the school—”

  “Do you have a lot of kids in the camp?” I asked him as we passed the one-room building that served as Camp Haven’s educational services.

  “Nine,” he answered. “Ten, once your little sister delivers. We have rules concerning intercourse, but we’ll get to that later.”

  “Rules—?”

  “Those are the dorms,” Ludo went on, gesturing toward two block buildings separated by a simple courtyard. “One for women and one for men. We have family units and single units as well for special circumstances, but they’re hard to come by. Hope you don’t mind sharing.”

  “It’s not me you’ll hear complaints from,” I said, thinking of Jove and Jacob.

  “I get complaints every day,” Ludo said. “Ain’t nothing new. Anyway, there’s a reason I wanted to talk to you, Miss Fitz.”

  “Please, it’s just Georgie.”

  “Georgie then,” he said. “I got a good feeling about you. Honestly, the only reason I let your folks into camp was because you were with them. You know things about this place, don’t you? About the things we do here?”

  “I grew up like this,” I told him.

  “And you mentioned your father earlier.”

  A gust of wind bit at my cheeks. It was colder here than in the city below. “This is his land. That’s his cabin. When I left this place nine years ago, there was nothing here but that cabin and my father. Now it’s—”

  “An entire community,” Ludo finished.

  “What happened to him?” I asked. “You have to know. You said Camp Haven’s been around for six or seven years. Someone has to know how it started.”

  Ludo led me toward the Bistro, where the residents of Camp Haven were lining up to be served breakfast. “Everyone knows how Camp Haven started. We tell the story to the kids during campfires.”

  “Well, fry me up a s’more, Ludo, and clue me in.”

  Ludo chuckled deep in his belly as he held open the door to the Bistro for me. We filed in after everyone else. The hall reminded me of the cafeteria at the sleepaway camp I’d attended a year or so before my mom died. The long tables and benches had been hand-crafted from felled trees. Oil lamps lined the wall at evenly spaced intervals to light the interior. A serving counter stretched from one end of the room to the other, laden with fresh and dried meats, drop biscuits, fruits and vegetables, and even pancakes. Ludo grabbed two metal trays from a stack near the door and we joined the line to be served.

  “A long time ago, a lone hiker decided to take on the Rockies by himself,” Ludo said. “The story goes that he was on a quest to find the soul that the noise of the world had robbed him of.”

  “A soul searcher, eh?” I muttered.

  “He left everything and everyone behind,” Ludo continued as we shuffled forward. “Packed up only what he needed to survive in the wilderness and headed into the hills without so much as a backwards glance. Didn’t even say goodbye to his family or friends.”

  “So he was a selfish loner,” I interjected. “No wonder.”

  “He was on a mission to cleanse himself.”

  “Because that always ends well.”

  “The point,” Ludo pressed on, “is that he went. He left society behind to start anew, but he soon realized that this was harder than he anticipated.”

  “Color me flabbergasted.”

  “An unexpected blizzard hit the Rockies,” Ludo said, now ignoring me completely. “It was early in the season. There shouldn’t have been snow like that at all. The man was buried in an avalanche. For three days, he burrowed in the snow. Didn’t know which way was up. He thought he was going to die there.” All around us, the other people in line listened in to Ludo’s story, as if they hadn’t heard it enough times already. “But on the fourth day, the man heard a woman calling his name. He followed her voice, digging through the snow until he burst through the surface. The woman was nowhere in sight, but he emerged right below the cabin on the hill. The cabin was unoccupied, but there was food in the cupboard and a fire in the hearth. To this day, the man claims that the woman was a spirit sent to save his life. He decided to do the same for anyone who chose the path that he did, and so Camp Haven was born.”

  “So he’s still here then?” I asked Ludo.

  “He lives in the cabin on the hill,” Ludo confirmed. “Camp Haven’s director. His name is—”

  “Sylvester.”

  2

  Ludo and I ate breakfast inside the Bistro, joining a group of other Camp Haven residents at one of the wooden tables. They watched me eat like kittens around a lion. Apparently, Camp Haven wasn’t used to visitors. I stared at my plate, shoveling eggs and bacon into my mouth without looking up. The food felt wonderful in my stomach, even if it was a bit bland. According to Ludo, spices were hard to come by, but they did grow and dry herbs to season their meals. I caught the eye of the teenaged boy sitting next to me as I ripped a piece of bacon apart. When I grinned, he tore his gaze away and scampered off with his tray.

  “Is this how it’s going to be?” I asked Ludo. “Is everyone going to treat us like we’re interlopers?”

  “Gotta look at it from their perspective.” He dusted biscuit crumbs from his beard. “These people have only known each other for the last seven years. They know every single face in the compound by heart. Now, all of a sudden, there’s six new ones. How would you feel?”

  “So you never took in anyone new?” I said. “How’d they all get here then?”

  “Sylvester brought them in,” he explained. “I thought you’d already gotten the gist of this.”

  “I don’t understand how this many people up and moved out of their heated houses to live up in the mountains with no electricity.” I stacked bacon and eggs inside a biscuit like a sandwich. “Why’d you do it, Ludo? How did you end up here?”

  He licked grease from his fingers and wiped them on a cloth napkin. “Funny story actually. Five and a half years ago, I was hunting with a few friends nearby. We were being stupid. Brought a shitload of beer with us, and I got drunk enough to shoot myself through the foot. My buddies thought it was hilarious, but I was bleeding out pretty bad.”

  “Your friends sound swell.”

  “They weren’t the best group of guys,” Ludo agreed. “So when a beautiful woman came out of the woods and told them very eloquently to fuck off, they took her word to heart.”

  “Another spiritual guide?” I asked.

  “No, ma’am,” he said. “It was Jax. She got me to camp and patched me right up. I knew as soon as she pulled that bullet out of my foot with her bare hands that she was the one for me.”

  “You and Jax?” I smothered a snicker. “Really?”

  “You can laugh, but she’s a tough cookie,” Ludo went on. “Never met a stronger woman. She convinced me to stay at Camp Haven. I used to be a cop, see, and the camp needed someone to take charge of security.”

  “So they picked an inebriated cop who shot himself in the foot?”

  Ludo tossed a grape across the table. It bounced off my tray and into my lap. “You got a mouth on you. Enough about me though. Tell me about yourself. How’d you end up here?”

  “I told you,” I said, popping the wayward grape into my mouth and enjoying the burst of fresh juice across my tongue. “The EMP blast knocked out all the power in Denver. Staying in the city with everyone else would’ve been certain death. I knew getting up here was our best bet at surviving, but I wasn’t planning on all of you being here.”

  “I didn’t mean today,” Ludo said. “I meant when you were a kid. You claim that your father built that cabin, that you lived out here off the grid, but you keep asking me why anyone would give up all that noise to come out here. Something doesn’t mesh.”

  I spat out the grape seed. “The abridg
ed version is that I had a traumatic childhood, and instead of facing our problems head on, my father ran from them. If you don’t mind, I’d rather not sink my teeth into the details.”

  “I suppose that’s your prerogative.”

  “Speaking of my father,” I said, “I came up here with the intention of locating him. Do you have any idea how I can find out what happened to him?”

  “You can check the archives.” Ludo folded a large strip of bacon in half and consumed it in one bite. “They’re kept in DotCom. Got the names and signatures of everyone who ever set foot inside Camp Haven, starting with Sylvester.”

  “Yeah, Sylvester,” I mused. “I’m quite interested in him.”

  “We all are,” Ludo said. “He’s a great man.”

  “When can I go to my cabin?” I asked. “I need to see if my dad left anything behind for me and—”

  Ludo coughed into his cup of black coffee. “Steady there, Georgie. Ain’t no one going up to the cabin.”

  I stared him down. “Why not? It’s my cabin.”

  “Not anymore, ma’am,” Ludo replied. “The cabin belongs to Sylvester. No one goes in without express permission.”

  I thunked my fork on the table. A few heads turned in our direction. “That cabin belongs to me.”

  Ludo weaseled the fork out from beneath my fingers. “If your story’s true, I believe that nine years ago, this land and that house were yours. Times change, my dear. This is present day, and you’re a guest in our home. You can either accept that and take advantage of our hospitality, or you can continue traipsing around here with your grand declarations and high-and-mighty attitude. I can tell you right now which one’s going to get you further though.”

  Before I could answer, the doors to the Bistro opened, spilling sunshine into the dimly lit. Jacob, Jove, Nita, and Penny traipsed inside, escorted by Maddy, and stamped their boots on the rug. As Maddy guided them into the breakfast line, Ludo watched me watch them.

  “That’s not usually the face someone makes when they see that their family is safe and sound after a cataclysmic disaster,” Ludo said, innocently spearing another grape with his fork and popping it into his mouth.