The Tribes -- Chapter 3

TRIBES, Chapter 3

It was dark when Bray and Jack returned to the SuperCenter after their third day of searching for a new home. The one mall they had found in close proximity to the SuperCenter looked good from a distance, but closer inspection revealed that it lacked security gates that could be used to keep raiders from other gangs and the Tribes out. Their inspection of the building revealed that it had been raided numerous times already – every window inside and outside the building had been smashed. Any items left behind had been wantonly destroyed by the previous raiders. The only thing they achieved by inspecting the wrecked building was the identification of some of the Tribes in the area. Each invading Tribe had tagged the building with their logos in spray paint. The knew now from the evidence of the vibrant colors that The Locos, Tribe Circus, and Devil Dogs were three of the more powerful and destructive Tribes in the area. Bray wasn’t sure which one was more powerful than the others, or if the mall just happened to be on the edge of each Tribe’s territory.

Bray described the condition of the nearest mall to Heather and the kids over dinner, adding that he thought he and Jack would need to venture farther afield in their hunt for a mall suitable to their needs. He quickly pointed out that expanding their search would mean he and Jack would have to spend at least one night and probably more away from the protection of the SuperCenter.

“Why is that?” Heather demanded, lowering a forkful of Spam in concern.

“At least half of our time during our scouting is the travel to and from locations,” Bray explained.

“Why does it have to take so long?” Jordy asked, his forehead creased with concern under the mop of sunbleached blond hair constantly falling into his eyes.

“Because we have to walk everywhere we go,” Bray explained gently to the eight-year-old. “It’s not like the old days when we could just jump in a car and drive from one mall to another.”

“How come?” Kit asked, her eyes troubled. “I don’t like it when you’re gone so long.

“Because we don’t have any gas to make a car or truck go,” Bray said.

“There’s no more gas anywhere?” Jordy asked. The idea clearly troubled him.

“Actually, there’s plenty of gas now,” Jack said, his mouth full of corned beef hash. “It’s just that without any electricity there’s no way to pump it up out of the underground …” his voice trailed off and he got a faraway look in his eyes. Suddenly, he bolted from the table and dashed off through the SuperCenter excitedly.

Curious, Bray and the others tried to follow the small teen. Even with his long legs, Bray had a hard time catching up with Jack. Everyone forgot how quick Jack could be when the need arose. Heather caught a glimpse of Jack disappearing into the Garden Center. Moments later, they heard Jack’s voice whooping and laughing delightedly. Following the sound of his voice, Bray and the others were able to quickly join Jack who was hopping from foot to foot in excitement. They found him standing by two twin-seater go carts.

“We can do it, we can do it,” Jack gushed, his words running into each other. “At least I think we can – I don’t see why we can’t …”

“Do what?” Heather demanded. “These things aren’t any good without gas, and there’s no way to get gas if the pumps don’t work – you said so yourself.”

“That’s right, Jack – without electricity there’s no way to pump the gas from the tanks,” Bray pointed out.

“And that’s the mistake everyone has been making,” Jack said, beginning to stammer as his excitement continued. “And that’s the same mistake I almost made.” He looked around the group, his blue eyes shining with the thrill of seeing a solution that had escaped everyone else. “You don’t see the solution?”

Before anyone could answer, Jack took off again. The others caught up with him by the empty aquariums – the dead fish had already been removed by Heather. Jack was happily unspooling yards of clear plastic tubing that had once been sold as aquarium pump accessories.

“You still don’t see it?” Jack was practically shouting, his voice cracking comically.

“Jack, Jack – calm down,” Bray said gently as if speaking to a little child. “Have you forgotten you can’t siphon gas uphill – those tanks must be at least twelve feet or more underground. It was a good idea, it just won’t work.”

“Right, right – you can’t siphon gas up that high,” Jack agreed, still bubbling over with excitement. Without another word, Jack took off once more headed for the Sporting Goods section. By the time Heather and Bray caught up with him, he was wildly rooting through shelves. Suddenly, he let out a cry of glee and turned around holding a box in each hand. Heather looked at the boxes blankly – they were boating accessories.

“So you have bilge pumps,” Heather said, clearly confused. “They’re for boats.”

“A pump is a pump,” Jack explained as if speaking to a dim-witted child. “Sure, these pumps were designed to pump water out of a boat – but that doesn’t mean it can’t be used to pump some other liquid.”

“Look at the box, Jack. They’re electric powered. If we had electricity, we could just use the gas pumps.”

“This one is electric,” Jack said holding out the one in his left hand. “This other one is a manual foot powered pump. Either one will work to bring the gas up from the tanks. We could just use the foot pump – we might be a little tired afterwards – or, I can rig up a car or boat battery to power the electric pump – I’m pretty sure I can.” Jack looked from face to face, his eyes shining. “Don’t you see? We can pump the gas from the underground tanks and power those go carts.” His excitement returned in force again, his voice cracking more often. “Using those carts we can go practically anywhere – even drive straight into the malls! They’re perfect for scouting.”

Jack finally wound down and fell silent. Heather and Bray stood speechless for several moments before breaking into wide grins. Without warning, Bray grabbed Jack in a tight bear hug, twirling the smaller teen around in a circle. Blushing furiously, Jack finally disengaged himself from Bray’s tight grip only to find Heather raining kisses all over his face.

Jack had a hard time sleeping that night – he worked late into the night rigging a battery and testing to make sure it would work when the time came to use it. Even though they had the foot powered pump, Jack didn’t relish the idea of pumping his leg up and down over and over to bring the gas up from the storage tanks. Even though he barely got any sleep, Jack was the first one up and bursting with energy. Bray and Heather awoke to the scent of coffee brewing, but didn’t find any sign of Jack anywhere. Bray checked the gates and finding them all closed, knew that Jack hadn’t been able to go off on his own and would show up from wherever he was working in the SuperCenter before too long.

Bray was just starting his third cup of coffee when Jack showed up. He was dressed in the black cargo pants and paint ball armor Bray remembered from when they first met, and pulling a red wagon. Jack had two five gallon gas cans, the pumps, coils of plastic tubing, his battery power source, and a jumble of odd bits and pieces Bray couldn’t even begin to identify.

Twenty minutes later Bray and Jack were kneeling by the gas tank cover at a gas station within sight of the SuperCenter. Jack’s fingers were trembling as he fumbled the metal cover up and moved it to the side. Licking his lips nervously, he looked up at Bray.

“I just thought of something,” Jack stammered. “What if the tank is empty? I hadn’t thought of that last night.”

“It’ll be full,” Bray assured him, hoping his own concern didn’t show in his voice.

“Right, it’ll be full.”

Jack swallowed hard and reached out for the gas tank cap and began unscrewing it. As soon as the cap was off, Jack began grinning – the unmistakable odor of gas wafted from the tank. Digging around in the wagon, Jack fished out a spool of string and a heavy fishing sinker. Feeding the string into the tank, Jack let the sinker pull the string through his fingers until the line went slack. He waited a minute, the tip of his tongue sticking out between his lips, before pulling the string back up. Looking at Jack, Bray felt strangely attracted to the small teen – his smooth face was so innocent and downright cute. Moments later, Jack was giggling uncontrollably – the string was soaked with gasoline.

“The tank must be almost full,” he chortled with unrestrained glee. He quickly set up the electric bilge pump and fed the plastic tubing down into the tank. “Now, let’s just hope this works like it’s supposed to.”

Jack’s jury-rigged set up worked even better than it was supposed to do. In no time at all gas was gurgling into the first of the five gallon cans. It was going to take longer than using the regular gas pumps, but since those were out of order, Jack’s rig was doing just fine. Once both gas cans were filled and all the equipment stowed neatly back in the wagon, Bray suggested they might as well explore the gas station for anything they could salvage. Getting in wasn’t going to be a problem – someone had long ago smashed the plate glass out of the doors.

The little convenience store had been pretty well ransacked. Some of the shelves had been overturned, cans and broken glass littered the aisles. Bray was about to suggest leaving when he heard a muffled moan from behind the counter. Both he and Jack froze, ready to fight or flee as circumstances demanded.

“Who’s there?” Bray demanded, making his voice hard. He silently motioned for Jack to edge closer to the door as he carefully made his way towards the counter. “You’d better show yourself – we’re both armed,” Bray lied. Edging nearer the counter, Bray caught sight a dark brown eye peering from between the map racks still bolted to the counter. Another moan came from behind the counter. Bray cautiously eased himself closer to the counter while trying to stay alert for any sudden moves from the person with the dark brown eyes.

Bray finally reached a point where he could glance over the counter. He was shocked to see a boy of maybe twelve or thirteen, his face had a frightening waxy complexion, dark circles around his eyes. Sweat matted his caramel colored hair to his head. Unconsciously Bray leaned over the counter to see more of the boy when the person with brown eyes leapt savagely from his hiding place, swinging a ball peen hammer. Bray managed to lift his right arm high enough to block the hammer blow from hitting his head. Pain shot through his arm as he struggled with his assailant. All of a sudden, Jack was by his side wrestling the hammer from the attacker. With the weapon out of the way, Bray was able to pin the assailant to the counter.

“Let him go, you bastards!” An angry girl’s voice cut across the shop.

Bray swung his head towards the restrooms and saw a girl about his age standing in the doorway, her fists clenched. Bray was stunned to find anyone in the gas station, and doubly stunned at the girl’s looks. She had the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. Her hair was twisted into little buns all over her head which had been bleached blond. A denim jacket hung loosely from her thin body. She obviously hadn’t been eating regularly for a long time.

“I said, let Dal go,” the girl ordered.

“He attacked us!” Jack protested, his voice cracking.

“And he said you were armed,” the girl countered, pointing at Bray.

“Well, we don’t,” Jack shot back.

“We didn’t know that!”

“Okay, just relax,” Bray said, his voice calm and reassuring. He carefully removed his hands from the boy called Dal. “We don’t mean any harm – we were just exploring here and heard a groan. You can’t be too careful these days.” Dal scrambled to his feet, making sure the counter was between him and the others. Bray was surprised to see that Dal was about Jack’s height, although a little stockier. He was dressed in tan coveralls and a leather jacket. The angry dark brown eyes were so dark they seemed almost black. Thick black curls covered his head. Although Dal’s skin was a dark tan shade, Bray didn’t think he was Latino. Something about the boy seemed to indicate he was Indian – the New Delhi kind, not the American brand.

“Dal, I’m sorry if I scared you and I’m sorry I attacked you,” Bray said gently. “We really didn’t mean any harm.” He turned to include the girl. “I’m Bray and this is Jack.”

The girl relaxed a little, “That’s Dal and my name is Amber.” She cautiously moved behind the counter and looked down at the boy on the floor. “And we think this is Peter – at least, that’s what we’ve been calling him. He was pretty sick when we found him.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s dying,” Dal spat.

“And you carried him here with you?” Jack asked.

“We couldn’t just leave him, could we?” Amber asked angrily.

“Well … no, I guess not,” Jack admitted. “What’s wrong with him?”

Amber lowered the dirty blanket covering Peter. Beneath the blanket, the boy was naked – looking over the counter, Jack slammed his hand to his mouth and stumbled outside where he wretched. Peter’s scrotum was swollen about three times its normal size, dark purple bruises covering his scrotum and thighs. “He had been beaten and chased until he got caught up in razor wire. Whoever chased him left him to die. He already had fever when we found him. We couldn’t just leave him there.” Amber gently lowered the blanket. “All he says – when he talks at all – is the word Peter. I think that’s his name – anyway, that’s what we’ve been calling him.”

“Bray, we can’t leave them here,” Jack said. He spun on Amber, his large blue eyes full of concern and starting to water. “We’ve got a place that’s safe from the gangs and Tribes – there’s lots of room and food.”

“Jack’s right,” Bray said. “I’m not saying we can save Peter, but he’s got a better chance where we are – we’ve got plenty of water and food. And, like Jack said – it’s safer there than it is here.”

“I don’t know,” Amber seemed undecided. “Look, it’s not just us, there are others.”

“That’s okay,” Jack said. “There are others with us – well, back where we’re staying.” Amber still didn’t agree. The tears began to spill down Jack’s smooth face now, his voice cracking worse than Bray had ever heard it break before. “Look, he’s going to die for sure if you don’t agree and the rest of you won’t be far behind. He and all of you have a better chance with us – there’s a pharmacy where we are. The place was never looted – maybe we can find the right antibiotics to make Peter better.” Jack turned on Bray in desperation. “Take the wagon back to the SuperCenter, Bray. The Garden Center has some big lawn tractors and carts. Fill one of the tractors and bring it back – we can carry Peter back in a cart.”

Bray stood chewing his lip – he didn’t want Amber and her group feeling forced into something against their will. “Well, the choice is yours,” he told Amber.

“NO! No, the choice isn’t theirs,” Jack said, frantically. “You’ve got to make them come with us – there’s been so many deaths already and most of them should never have happened. We can’t just sit back and let someone else die.”

The door to the restrooms burst open and a girl with hair dyed a manic red, “He’s right, Amber. They’re taking a risk offering to share their haven with us. We can at least take the risk and give it a try – if we don’t, Peter doesn’t have any chance at all.” The red haired girl glanced back at the restroom door. “And think about the kids.”

Amber looked at Bray uncertainly, “We won’t have to stay if we don’t want to?”

“We promise – you can leave any time you want,” Bray promised. “At least stay long enough to get some decent food and rest.” He held out his hand, “Deal?”

Amber nodded her head once decisively, “Deal.”

Jack followed Bray outside. “Bring back some bottled water for everyone, and some washcloths so we can try to cool Peter down, and …”

“Relax Jack,” Bray said, soothingly. He looked down into the frightened blue eyes and felt his heart pull him towards Jack. Impulsively he reached out and pulled Jack to him for a quick brotherly embrace. “I’ll get Heather to make up a cot for Peter and get some food prepared. It’ll be all right, I swear.”

Bray headed off with the wagon glancing back once to see Jack sitting on the ground, knees pulled up under his chin, his thin arms wrapped around his legs. Once again, Bray got that strange protective feeling towards Jack.

When Bray left, Jack had sunk to the ground feeling totally helpless. He sat there for several minutes before pulling himself back together. Finally, he wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands and climbed to his feet. Bray would be back soon and there were things here that needed to be done before his return. Marching inside, Jack was surprised to see two girls who looked to be about eight or nine and a small boy standing by Amber. All three of them were skinny to the point of emaciation. Jack almost felt like crying again. Instead, he summoned up his friendliest smile and introduced himself.

“That’s Chloe and Patsy,” Amber said indicating the two girls. “And this is Patsy’s brother Jonah.” Each of the girls offered a shy greeting, but Jonah just regarded Jack silently, his glue eyes filled with curiosity.

“And I’m Selena,” the red haired girl said by way of introduction.

“My name’s Jack and in no time at all, we’ll have all of you sitting around a table eating as much as you want.”

“Jack, is Peter going to die?” Patsy asked, her voice soft. “All the big people died – is Peter going to die like them?”

“No,” Jack said quickly, hoping he wasn’t lying. “The adults got a bad flu, Peter doesn’t have the flu – he got hurt real bad and that made him sick. Bray is coming back with a cart and then we’re all going someplace to make Peter better.”

“No sense in lying to her,” Dal said, matter-of-factly. “There’s not much we can do. We’ve all watched people die. I think it’s better to be prepared for it now.”

“Peter is not going to die,” Jack said sharply. “You just haven’t had the right things to make him get better. Where we live, we have food and water, and more importantly – a pharmacy. It’s bound to have lots of antibiotics.” He looked around, his smooth face resolute. “If you have anything – y’know, like personal belongings and stuff, you’d better get them gathered up. As soon as Bray gets back, I want to get us all moved right out to where we’ll be safe.”

It wasn’t long before the thrum of a small motor could be heard in the distance. Jack eased towards the broken out window to make sure it was Bray returning. He had already learned that it wasn’t wise to make assumptions in this new world. For all Jack knew, the gangers and Tribes had already figured out a way to get their own source of gasoline. Happily, Jack’s fears were unfounded – he broke into a wide grin at the sight of Bray sitting astride the big lawn tractor, his long chestnut hair blowing gently behind him. Turning to the others, Jack was happy to announce that they needed to get ready to leave. Everyone began bustling about, grabbing their nearly empty backpacks and lining them up along the counter. Minutes later Bray was pulling up between the silent pumps and the convenience store.

Bray had barely come to a complete stop before Jack was rummaging through the things in the cart. Someone, probably Heather, had thought to send some small bags of jelly beans for the three kids. There were twelve one liter bottles of water.

“Hey Jonah, wanna help me pass out the candy?” Jack called over his shoulder. He didn’t get an answer. “C’mon – no reason to be shy, you can help with the candy.”

“You need to look at Jonah when you talk to him,” Patsy called, leading her brother over to the cart.

“Why?” Jack was confused.

“If he can’t see your lips move, he doesn’t know what you’re saying,” Patsy said matter-of-factly.

“You mean …” Jack was dumbfounded. The poor kid must think Jack had been being rude all this time, not talking directly to him.

“Jonah is profoundly deaf,” Amber said gently. “He can read lips, you just need to be facing him.”

Jack didn’t need any more explanation, he immediately sank into a crouch that put his face on the same level as Jonah’s and gave the boy his warmest smile, “How’d you like to help me and share out these bags of candy?”

“Sure,” Jonah said, his face brightening. The word came out sounding more like ‘shoo-a’, but the meaning was clear. Jack filled the boy’s hands with the bags and turned to pass out the bottles of water. He took one liter to where Peter lay and gently dribbled some across the boy’s cracked lips. Bray brought him a washcloth which Jack immediately dampened so he could blot the cool cloth over Peter’s forehead. After that, Jack didn’t waste any time in getting Peter moved out into the cart. Bray helped Selena and the three little kids into the back with Peter – it was a crowded fit, but Bray figured the lawn tractor could pull the load. Jack promised to lead the others to the SuperCenter on foot.

It wasn’t long before the little tractor was a good distance ahead of Amber, Dal, and Jack. After trudging along in silence for a while, Dal finally moved over to Jack’s side.

“You really think Peter will live?”

“If we can figure out the right treatment, I don’t see why he shouldn’t,” Jack answered with more confidence than he felt.

“You really believe that, don’t you?” Dal asked.

“I do,” Jack answered. He thought about it – if they could find the right antibiotics, and maybe some other drugs, there wasn’t any reason Peter shouldn’t have a better than average chance of getting better. Suddenly, Jack actually began to feel the confidence that up to know had just been a front for the benefit of the kids.

By the time Jack and the others reached the SuperCenter, Bray and Heather had already gotten Peter into a bed that had been set up in the Pharmacy. Heather was busy heating food for the kids. Jack noticed she was pretending to be cheerful, he wasn’t sure the newcomers would notice her attitude, but he could tell her cheerfulness was forced. That worried him. Hurrying to the Pharmacy, he found Peter looking even worse than he had in the gas station. His face against the fresh white sheets was almost grey.

Jack took Dal and disappeared into the depths of the SuperCenter. They returned about ten minutes later pushing a shopping cart loaded with gallon jugs of water, a couple of plastic buckets, and a stack of white towels. Jack went to work, explaining what he was doing as he filled one bucket with water and immediately began soaking a towel in the water. Wringing it out until it was damp, Jack wrapped the towel around Peter’s head like a turban. He soaked another towel and laid it over Peter’s throat, two other wet towels were placed between Peter’s arms and torso. Every touch to his feverish body brought fresh groans of agony. Since finding Peter, Jack couldn’t remember the boy making any coherent sounds. He seemed to be hovering somewhere between fevered consciousness and coma. Jack wasn’t sure which was a better condition for the boy.

“I don’t think we can bring the fever down using just cool water,” Jack explained. “But, I think we might be able to keep it from getting any higher by keeping him cool.”

Taking a deep breath, Jack pulled back the sheet to expose Peter’s groin. Up close, the sight that greeted him was even more sickening. Peter’s scrotum was about the size of a large cantaloupe, what had looked like purple bruises were actually almost black under the bright camp lanterns Heather had set up while waiting for Bray to return with Peter. The stench over almost overpowering – Jack fought back the urge to gag and vomit. He looked around and found himself being greeted with expectant looks. Dal, Amber, and Selena figured Jack knew what to do from the way he had talked back at the gas station. Bray had pretty much the same look on his face – he figured that if Jack could figure out electrical diagrams and things, the diminutive teen must be able to figure out what to do now. Sighing, Jack nodded – the first thing to do was to get into the locked pharmacy behind them.

He excused himself and asked Bray to join him at the main office next to the Customer Service Center. First, he disappeared in the tool section and returned carrying a sledge hammer. They hadn’t taken the time to force the locked office door open yet and Jack figured the sledge hammer would be the quickest way to get the door open now. He explained what he needed from Bray and a few minutes later the SuperCenter resounded with the sound of Bray attacking the door knob of the office door. On the tenth blow, the knob gave way and the door swung open. Jack pushed past Bray and into the dark office, snapping a flashlight on as he entered. It wasn’t hard to find the security key box on the far wall, and after another trip to the tool section for a set of bolt cutters, he had the key box open.

“You know, I could have just broken into the pharmacy door with the sledge hammer,” Bray observed.

“Yeah, but that might not be such a great idea,” Jack explained. “We don’t know if the banging that close to Peter would bother him more than we should, for one thing. And, I think it’s best if we keep that door locked with all the kids around. They might think some of the drugs there are candy.”

“Right,” Bray nodded. “That’s a problem we don’t need.” Bray started to leave, but Jack stopped him.

“Antibiotics aren’t going to be enough,” Jack said, hesitantly. “At least, I don’t think they will. I think he’s got gangrene and that’s got to be dealt with first.”

Bray stared in Jack’s direction in horror. It was hard to see Jack’s face in the dark office, but Bray could imagine the pained look on his face. “You’re thinking that his …” Bray licked his lips, which had suddenly gone dry. “I mean that he needs to be … you can’t be serious.”

“When I was about ten, I had a little Scotty dog,” Jack said, his cracking voice strained. “It got out of the yard when I was at school and disappeared for about a week. My Dad and me looked everywhere and when we finally found him … well, he’d been hit by a car and his leg was broken. Gangrene had already started. It smelled just like Peter does now. The vet said he had to cut Jock’s leg off – that was his name, Jock – I didn’t want that, but the vet said if he didn’t do that, Jock would die.” Bray could hear Jack take a deep breath that sounded like a little gasp of pain. “The vet explained that Jock’s leg was already dead and it would just keep getting worse and poison Jock until he died horribly.”

“Jack, you do understand that you’re going to have to be the one who does it,” Bray said, softly.

“Me?” Jack screeched. “Why me?”

“Because you’re the right one,” Bray said, gently. “I don’t think Amber or any of her lot can do it – I mean, think about it. I’m sure that by now one of them must have realized the same thing, but they haven’t already done it. I might be able to do it, but I don’t know what I’m doing …”

“And you think I do?”

“No, I don’t,” Bray said. “But, I do think you’re the only one who could figure out what to do, or read and understand how to do the operation if we can find a book that explains surgical things. You’ve got the kind of brains to understand technical things like that.” Bray stepped across the dark office and gently stroked Jack’s face. “I understand if you don’t think you can do it, and I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t. But, if you don’t, Peter’s going to die.”

Jack pulled away from Bray’s hand like it was a white hot poker, “That’s not fair! I’m not a doctor, I’m just a kid,” Jack protested.

Bray reached out in the darkness and took Jack by the shoulders, his voice serious and insistent, “No, you’re not just a kid anymore, Jack. There’s no such thing as just a kid anymore. We’re all that’s left – and you’re probably smarter than any one of us here. I’ve seen the things you can do – you’ve figured out solutions to problems that none of us could figure out. You’re the only chance Peter has.”

Jack pulled away savagely, “I hate you,” he hissed. “You’ve got no right to put this on me.

“I know, and I really am sorry,” Bray said, sadly. “But, it’s the truth – it’s you or no one.”

“I’m sorry I ever saved you that day back there,” Jack spat.

Jack pushed past Bray angrily, storming out of the SuperCenter office, the bold cutters swinging from his hand. Bray leaned against the wall and wiped cold sweat from his face with a shaking hand. He figured it was best to give Jack a few minutes to calm down. Bray knew the deal he’d just forced on Jack was pretty shitty – but he also knew that everything he’d told Jack was the truth. Bray might be able to perform the operation, if someone was able to talk him through it. But, Bray knew he’d never be able to teach himself the procedures from a book like Jack could. And, they just didn’t have the luxury of the kind of time needed for Jack to read the book and explain the procedures to Bray in terms he could understand. Sighing, he finally wandered out of the office and made his way to the pharmacy.

Jack wasn’t there.

“What’s going on?” Amber asked, a worried look on her face.

“Yeah,” Dal interrupted. “Jack just blazed past – he wouldn’t even open the pharmacy.”

“What are you talking about?” Bray had a sinking feeling in his stomach. He spun towards the garden center as the sound of a go-cart engine roaring to life broke the silence. Maybe he had pushed Jack too far and the little guy was bailing. Bray broke into a run towards the sound of the cart, Amber and Dal on his heels. He reached the fenced in patio just in time to see the go-cart skidding out of the parking lot. Bray shouted Jack’s name, beating his clenched fists against the chain-link fencing that surrounded the patio area.

“What’s going on?” Amber demanded coming up on Bray in time to find him pounding the fence in frustration. “When he came back, Jack just paused long enough to tell us not to do anything until he got back. He looked angry and sick.”

Bray explained everything. Dal grimaced when Bray explained that in order to save Peter, he’d have to be castrated. Bray hung his head when he described how he’d talked Jack into the one who would have to do the cutting and the reasons he’d reached that decision and Jack’s reaction. When he finally raised his head to face the other two, Bray admitted he was afraid Jack had lost his nerve and run away from the band.

“Of course he ran,” Dal said in contempt. “He promised he’d save Peter and he realized he couldn’t make his promise good.”

“Dal, you don’t know that for sure,” Amber said firmly. She turned to Bray, “He did say he was coming back. Maybe he just needs to be alone to work things out – you asked him to do something pretty serious.”

It was Heather who finally convinced Bray and the others to go back inside and keep changing the damp compresses on Peter. She had appeared to find out what had happened and listened as Bray and Amber repeated everything that had happened. Bray was still raking himself over the coals for making Jack run off.

“You did what you had to do, Bray,” Heather snapped. “So stop second guessing yourself. You made an important decision, now you have live with it.” Bray looked up at her in confusion. “You’re the closest thing to a leader we have, and you’ve done a damn good job so far. You’re right thinking Jack is the right man for the job at hand, and you were right to tell him he has to be a man. Jack has never lied to any of us – if he said he’ll be back, then he’ll be back.” Heather finally lost the harsh edge to her voice. “You know how Jack gets when an idea springs into his head – he loses all track of anything else. And his ideas come so fast – by the time he left the office, he probably had an idea and just acted on it like he always does. He’ll be back – you wait and see.” She picked up the old lock that Jack had obviously cut off the chain-link gates of the Garden Center. Next to it was a new padlock key. She held it up. “I bet this key fits that lock on the gate – Jack wouldn’t have left the key unless he intended to return and find the gate open for him. So until then, we’d better get back to keeping poor Peter’s compresses changed.”

Bray divided his time between helping change the compresses and wandering from entrance to entrance to see if Jack was returning. Heather gently reminded Bray that they’d hear the sound of the go-cart motor in enough time to get one of the gates raised. She was positive Jack would return like he’d promised.

Almost four hours later, the sound of the go-cart motor in the distance heralded Jack’s return. Bray fumbled the key Heather had found into the padlock, getting it open in time to swing the gates wide open so Jack could drive straight into the garden patio. The spare seat of the go-cart was filled with three boxes stacked on top of each other and bound with lashings of surgical tape. Springing from the cart, Jack dashed around the Garden Center from potting table to potting table, standing next to each one until he found just the right one.

“This table needs the shelves cut off even with the work surface,” Jack announced. “Then, it needs to be moved over to where Peter is.” Without waiting for an answer, he dashed into the SuperCenter. Bray knew that now wasn’t the time to question Jack’s instructions. He hunted down a saw and went to work sawing the top rack off the potting table. By the time he got the rack removed and had Dal help him wrestle the table into the Pharmacy, Jack had already unlocked the pharmacy door and was rooting around the racks and racks of medicines. He dropped some bottles of drugs into a basket and came out into the waiting area.

“That place in there is great,” Jack announced. “They have a real hospital bed off in a corner. Must have been a display model or something – it has a sign on it that says fifty percent off regular price. We can move that out here later and put Peter in that.” Jack turned to Dal.” Back in Sporting Goods they have some of those heavy exercise floor mats – could you bring one of them up here and get it set up on the top of that table?” He faced Bray for the first time. “I need as many camp lights as we can get set up here – we’ll need lots of light.”

“You got it,” Bray promised.

“Wait, that’s not all,” Jack said. “We’ll need a couple of those metal clothing sales racks back in the warehouse. We have to figure a way to get Peter’s legs raised up and spread wide.”

“I’ll take care of working that out,” Bray said. He poked Dal and jerked his head towards the back of the store.

Jack chewed his lip as he watched Bray and Dal disappear down the aisle. He began to pace in circles, muttering to himself. Suddenly, he stopped and dashed back towards the Garden Center. Amber started to follow, but Heather stopped her.

“Don’t worry,” Heather assured her. “He’s on a roll now – he’ll be dashing here and there as ideas pop into his head. He’s in problem-solving mode now.”

Amber wasn’t so sure – as far as she knew, Jack might be getting ready to run off for good this time. Instead, he returned a few minutes later carrying a humming bird feeder stand. The stand was black aluminum that was supposed to look like old-fashioned wrought iron. The top curved around like a shepherd’s crook and had a little hook on the end. He dropped the feeder stand on the table and took off again for into the aisle where the tools were displayed. Amber watched in wonder when Jack returned with a hand drill, a pack of assorted screwdrivers and plastic bag of screws. Dropping to his knees, Jack went to work drilling holes in the wooden leg of the modified potting table. He chewed his lower lip as he affixed the mounting brackets that he pulled from one of the many pockets of his cargo pants and then slid the humming bird feeder into the brackets. Climbing to his feet, Jack examined his handiwork in satisfaction.

“That ought to work,” he announced to no one in particular. He looked around and looked surprised to find Heather and Amber standing there. “I, ah – um, I need to get a few other things. When Bray and Dal return with the exercise mat, it needs to go on top of the table – I guess that’s obvious. I should be back by then,” Jack gave a nervous grin that quickly faded and wandered off.

By the time Jack returned with his arms filled with more supplies, Bray and Dal had the exercise mat on the table, covered it with a clean white sheet, and had Peter transferred from his bed to the table. Jack nodded and carefully set his bundle down. Riffling through the bags, he withdrew a package of paper painter’s masks, latex gloves, rubbing alcohol and sterile gauze pads. He arranged the items on the pharmacy counter and then turned his attention to the sealed boxes he had brought back from his mysterious journey. Ripping open the first box, Jack reverently revealed plastic bags of saline solution, plastic tubing, and small sealed packages. He carefully hung a bag of saline solution from the makeshift stand he had fashioned from the hummingbird feeder stand.

Sighing, Jack washed his hands in rubbing alcohol, drying them carefully before donning a pair of latex gloves. Wandering down the aisle of the Pharmacy, he scanned the shelves until he found what he wanted – a blood pressure cuff. He had the box open and the cuff wrapped around Peter’s thin arm, and seconds later was pumping the cuff as tight as he could to bring up the veins in his patient’s arm. Jack uncoiled the plastic tubing coming from the IV bag and then reluctantly reached for one of the sealed packages, setting it on the table next to Peter.

“Well, there’s no sense stalling any longer,” Jack whispered to himself. Opening the alcohol again, Jack took a sterile gauze pad and gently washed Peter’s arm before ripping open the sterile package to reveal a large bore IV needle. He continued muttering to himself, “You’ve had enough of these things in your own arm, Jack. You can do this – just find the vein, get the right angle – that’s it, that’s it – no, not so steep.”

The others stared breathless as Jack slowly, slowly guided the IV needle towards Peter’s feverish flesh. Bray held his breath, his chest burning as the needle hovered just above the vein in Peter’s arm. I trust you, Jack he thought to himself, silently urging Jack on. He could see the needle touch Peter’s flesh, and make a little dimple before it entered the vein. Grabbing the IV tube, Jack quickly connected it to the needle. Before he started the flow, Jack removed the IV bag from the stand and lowered it below the level of the table. Holding his breath now, Jack opened the pressure valve on the blood pressure cuff. Blood flowed from Peter’s arm into the tube. Bray didn’t know if that was a good sign or not until Jack released his pent up breath with a whoosh – a slight smile flickered across his lips as he re-hung the UV bag and started the flow of the saline solution. Jack fiddled with the flow wheel of the IV until he seemed satisfied and then stepped back.

“Okay, I don’t know how long it will take for that bag to empty,” Jack said. “When it’s almost empty, I need someone to let me know so I can start another bag. After we get two bags in him, I’ll – you know – it’ll be time to – to operate.”

Looking away as if embarrassed to look at anyone, Jack tucked the smallest of the boxes he had brought back with him under his arm and wandered off towards the direction of the snack bar. About an hour later, Amber poked her head around the corner of the snack bar and found Jack hunched over a table at the back of the snack bar. Several large books were scattered across the table littered with empty juice cans. Jack seemed oblivious to everything as he poured over the books, occasionally making notes on scraps of paper. From time-to-time, he’d mutter to himself between sips of juice and turning the pages or even switching books. Jack interrupted his work only once long enough to change Peter’s IV bag, and then he was right back to work. By the time Amber and Heather returned to the snack bar to tell Jack the second IV bag was nearly empty, Jack was gone.

Returning to the Pharmacy, they discovered Jack was already there dressed in a fresh white T-shirt and grey sweat pants. His shaggy hair was hidden under a plastic shower cap, one of the painter’s mask hung around his neck. He had already changed the saline solution bag and was laying out the surgical instruments he had collected on his trip away from the SuperCenter.

“What do I need to do to scrub up properly – well, as properly as I can, that is,” Amber asked.

“I – um, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Jack said, his eyes down on the instruments he had lined up. “I don’t imagine Peter is going to be any too happy with … well, you know. It’s probably going to be better for everyone if he’s pissed with as few people as possible.”

“Jack, we all agree that’s it the only thing to do,” Amber insisted. “We’ll tell him that. It’s a group decision – we all made the choice in order to try to save his life.”

“Look, I’ve thought this out,” Jack explained solemnly. “Maybe you don’t understand because you’re a girl – what I’m about to do is pretty drastic for a guy.” Jack paused, clearly at a loss for words. “Look, guys tend to think of themselves as guys because of what they have down there. They don’t think about whether the operation is necessary to save their lives – they just think about what was taken away from them.” He sighed heavily.

Amber snorted, “Well that’s just stupid!”

“Jack’s right,” Bray said firmly, stepping from between two aisles. “Guys do think like that. It’s probably going to be pretty tough on Peter when he wakes up. He might feel better with you if you aren’t a part of the operation. That way he can talk to you about how he feels and you can help him see there wasn’t a choice.”

Amber remained silent for a few moments, her lips pursed. Finally, she nodded and gave Jack a big hug and kiss on the cheek. “You’ll do a good job, I believe in you,” she whispered. Then, she was gone.

Bray held up a mesh bag with a makeshift set of surgical clothes like Jack’s. “I was watching and saw the things you picked out for yourself. Give me a couple of minutes to change.” Jack started to open his mouth in protest, but Bray cut him off. “You can’t do this all by yourself, Jack. You’re going to need someone to help you, and that’s the end of that discussion.”

Bray didn’t wait for any more protests, he just began stripping as quickly as he could and changing into the surgical gear. After tucking his hair into a plastic shower cap, he asked Jack to show him how to scrub up with the alcohol. Minutes later, both teens were scrubbed and gloved and ready to begin. Jack delicately lifted a brown bottle from the counter and produced a large tea strainer he had packed with cotton.

“We can’t leave this bottle open too long around these camp lanterns,” he explained. “It’s chloroform and it’s pretty flammable.”

“Can’t you just give him some shots of something?” Bray wondered.

“That’s what I thought,” Jack explained, “but, according to the books I found a real serious infection can make local anesthetics pretty tricky and unreliable. “

“But Peter’s pretty much out of it,” Bray pointed out. “Are you sure chloroform is necessary?”

“Pretty sure, it wouldn’t do to have him wake up and start kicking around.”

“Makes sense,” Bray admitted. “How long do we leave this over his face?”

“I think just until he stops moaning,” Jack said uncertainly. “But, still breathing,” he added quickly.

Bray held the strainer out as Jack dribbled some of the chloroform into the cotton. As Jack quickly closed the bottle, Bray placed the strainer over Peter’s mouth and nose. The moans from the ill boy began to grow softer as the deep creases in his face smoothed out. Bray kept glancing down at Peter’s chest to make sure it kept rising and falling. He looked over to Jack who shrugged helplessly – Peter wasn’t moaning anymore, but was still breathing. They both silently agreed to leave things as they were – Jack sealed the tea strainer in a plastic zip lock bag.

Pulling the paper painter’s mask up over his face, Jack took his place at the end of the table and soaked Peter’s groin in antiseptic solution as Bray lifted Peter’s legs into the makeshift stirrups he and Dal had created. Lifting the scalpel, Jack lightly drew it along the center of the exposed scrotum.

Nothing happened.

Jack’s blue eyes grew wide in amazement over the mask covering his nose and mouth. He gulped and tried again with the same results.

“Press down firmly,” Bray urged.

Swallowing hard, Jack tried a third time. He drew the scalpel down firmly, drops of blood forming. Keeping a steady pressure, Jack began cutting deeper. Suddenly, the delicate skin beneath the scalpel parted with an accompanying eruption of pus. The greenish-yellow liquid cascaded from the incision in a foul-smelling torrent. Both Jack and Bray were forced to turn away for a moment to keep from vomiting. By the time they turned back, the swollen scrotum had shrunk to almost normal size.

Bray moved quickly to grab some clean white cotton face towels and began mopping up the discharge. Jack grabbed a bottle of water and began irrigating the incision he’d made. He wasn’t sure using bottled water was as good as using saline solution, but the few bags of saline solution he’d brought back from his foraging trip were going to be needed to rehydrate Peter. The bottled water would have to do. Enlarging the incision, Jack worked his fingers into the sac and eased the left testicle out. He grimaced, but continued with his work. Opening a suture kit, Jack placed two sutures on the cords about a half inch apart. Now, came the point of no return – lifting the surgical scissors, Jack carefully cut between the two sutures.

Cradling the severed testicle in his hands, Jack stared down at it. The anatomy book he had found indicated the testicle should be a bluish white color and firm. The one he was staring down at was greenish-black and squishy like an over ripe plum. Even Jack could tell the organ was dead and in an advanced state of decay. He slid the testicle into a small plastic cup Bray held up for him. There was no hesitation in his movements now as he returned to work removing the remaining orb. Any doubts he had harbored about castration being Peter’s only hope of surviving were gone. The right testicle was in even worse shape than the left one had been.

Turning his attention to the deflated scrotum, Jack could easily see the damage done by the razor wire now. He tied off the empty sac as close to Peter’s torso as he could and gingerly removed the diseased sac. Bray watched as Jack meticulously snipped across Peter’s scrotum just below the noose he had placed earlier. Bray could imagine Jack’s tongue clenched between his teeth under the mask as he concentrated on his work. Once Jack had all the diseased skin excised, he began the painstaking job of suturing the incision closed. He flinched each time he had to poke the needle through Peter’s skin, but he continued his slow work. Bray guessed that, like him, Jack had very little experience with any kind of sewing. In the end, it didn’t much matter. By the time he finished, Jack had produced a neat, straight line of sutures – Bray guessed that Jack might have put in about twice as many sutures as he needed, but he got the job done and that was the important thing.

Finished the suturing, Jack covered the surgical area with antibiotic ointment before carefully placing heavy surgical sponge pads in place and taping them down. With the surgery over, Jack snapped off his bloody latex gloves, turning them inside out and placing them in a plastic bag he had reserved for all of the fluid soaked trash.

He turned away from the operating table to find Heather and Amber standing at the end of one of the aisles. It was obvious they had been watching the whole thing. He stood like a chipmunk caught in the headlights, blinking in surprise. Ducking his head in embarrassment, Jack slipped into the locked pharmacy, reappearing minutes later pushing the hospital bed that had once been a Pharmacy Department display. Heather nudged Jack out of the way and set about making the bed, pulling the sheet corners nice and taut. Amber pushed Bray out of the way, telling him she’d get a mop and bleach and clean up the table and floor once Peter was transferred to the hospital bed.

It didn’t take long to get Peter and his IV moved over to the bed. Jack hung another bag of solution which he explained was an antibiotic that should – if it worked right – help fight the infection in Peter’s blood.

Bray returned to the Pharmacy several hours later to find Jack sitting in a chair next to the bed, he had slumped over with his head resting on the edge of the bed. Tiptoeing up to the bed, Bray noticed that Peter was breathing regularly, occasionally uttering a soft sigh. Laying his hand on the young teen’s forehead, Bray was pleased to find Peter’s skin much cooler than it had been earlier. That had to be a good sign, he decided. Padding softly around the hospital bed, Bray bent over Jack and lifted him from the chair. He was surprised at how light Jack was in his arms – he was also surprised at how natural and right it felt to be cradling Jack to his chest like that. He carried Jack over to the cot Peter had been in earlier and tucked him in there.

Staring down at Jack’s face, Bray frowned at the dark circles under Jack’s eyes – he looked so worn out and helpless. Smiling down at the sleeping form below him, Bray reached out and lovingly brushed the hair off Jack’s forehead. He was starting to bend down when he heard a sound behind him. Turning, he found Amber standing there watching him.

“I found Jack slumped over asleep,” Bray said lamely, adding quickly, “Peter seems a less feverish than he was.”

Amber nodded silently, a strange smile flickering across her mouth. She tiptoed over to Peter, holding her hand against his cheek. Coming over to Jack’s side, Amber looked down benignly.

“He’s a pretty special little guy,” Amber whispered, taking Bray’s arm and leading him away. She gave him that strange smile again. “You know, anyone would be crazy not to love him just a little bit.” That smile flickered across her lips again as she gave Bray a peck on the cheek. “Of course, he probably deserves to be loved a lot.”

Before Bray could think of a thing to say, Amber disappeared into the darkness, leaving Bray to wonder is she meant what he thought she did.

To be continued …