Part 34 (1/2)
”I think the power is out in the stadium,” Dodge said, gesturing at the entrance. ”We should be okay.”
The entrance to the stadium was in darkness, except for a flashlight that someone had set on top of a ticketing booth, s.h.i.+ning a meager light down a long, dark corridor.
If the power was off, then the cameras were off, Sam thought, and hoped it was true.
Inside the stadium, it was warmer than he expected. His first thought was that the heaters were turned on, but as they made their way out through the players' tunnel underneath the bleachers, he saw the real reason.
Dotted across the artificial turf of the stadium were campfires, many ringed with small rocks, as if this was a camping ground instead of a refugee center.
There must have been thirty or forty fires, each surrounded by people, huddling together for warmth or cooking in metal pots that were suspended over the flames by all sorts of ingenious stands or tripods. There was something about adversity, Sam thought, that brought out the ability of people to cope. To adapt. To survive, no matter what happened.
Rain crashed and hammered on the roof of the stadium high above them, an intricate design of interlocking wooden triangles. The whole roof seemed to shudder with the explosions of thunder outside.
”We should change cars again,” Sam said as they found an empty area and sat down on the turf. ”Ursula knows what this one looks like, and we can't expect this storm to last all the way to Cheyenne.”
”I'll go and see what I can find,” Dodge said.
”I'll come with you,” Tyler said.
”Hide the pickup truck as well as you can,” Sam said. ”If they find it, they'll know we're not really heading for Mexico.”
Dodge nodded and disappeared with Tyler back toward the tunnel.
Vienna s.h.i.+vered suddenly and violently.
Sam looked around. There was a campfire about ten yards away, and he would have liked to move Vienna closer to it, but it was already crowded with people trying to make the most of the warmth.
He took off his own jacket and laid it over her as a blanket.
The young mother with the two children and the grandmother were next to him. The two women were sitting facing each other, the children between them.
Both children were crying now, and he caught the word ”hungry” in between the sobs.
He found a packet of Oreos in the box of food Dodge had carried in and picked up a bottle of water as well. He shuffled across to the small group and tapped the younger of the two women on the shoulder.
”Some water and some cookies, for your kids,” he said. ”It's not much, but-”
His next words were cut off as the young woman reached up and hugged him, sobbing at the same time.
She eventually let go, mumbled a thank-you, and took the items.
The older lady smiled at him, and he looked away, a little embarra.s.sed. All he had done was give them cookies and some water.
Vienna began to cough, started choking, then hoicked up a gray mess of phlegm and grit. Her eyes fluttered for a moment, then closed. Her weight slumped against him, and he held her for a moment before gently easing her to the ground.
He found an old newspaper in a trash can and cleaned up the mess, then washed his hands carefully in one of the washrooms. The last thing he needed was a dose of radiation poisoning; he didn't want to even think about what that dust was doing to Vienna's lungs.
When he got back, the grandmother was hovering over Vienna, looking concerned. She pulled back one of Vienna's eyelids and examined her pupil.
”What happened to her?” she asked.
”She”-Sam hesitated, not wanting to reveal too much-”swallowed some dust.”
”Dust?” The woman looked at him suspiciously.
”We came through Vegas,” Sam finally admitted.
”Vegas dust!” The woman looked shocked and said, ”I'm a nurse, or I was for most of my life. Are you telling me you went through Vegas without protective clothing?”
She seemed angry at their stupidity.
”We had suits and masks,” Sam said. ”But she lost hers. It was an accident.”
Her gaze softened. ”I'm Olivia,” she said. ”This is my daughter-in-law, Brenda.”
The young mother smiled at him, hugging her two children tightly to her.
”Is there anything we can do for her?” Sam asked.
Olivia lowered her gaze and stroked Vienna gently across the forehead.
”Is she important to you?” she asked.
Sam hesitated, then nodded. A week ago, he would have said no, but things had changed. She had changed.
”I'm sorry,” Olivia said, stroking Vienna's forehead again. ”The dust will have seared her lungs and poisoned her system. You need to get her to a hospital as soon as possible, but even then-” She broke off, clearly not wanting to say any more.
Brenda and the two children shuffled a little closer so that the two groups became one.
”That was very kind of you, with the cookies,” Brenda said.
”It was nothing,” Sam said. ”Really nothing. We have more supplies in the car. Would you like something else?”
He pushed the box over toward her, and with just a small hesitation, she looked inside and took a couple of muesli bars, which she handed to her children.
”Eat something yourself,” Sam said. ”I insist. You, too, Olivia.”
Brenda hesitated again, then took a foil packet of dried apricots, which she shared with her mother-in-law.
”I'm sorry to be so helpless,” Brenda said. ”But we didn't have time to pack or grab supplies.”
”We didn't have time to think,” Olivia added. ”We just ran.”
”Why?” Sam asked.
”Brenda and the kids were staying with me,” Olivia said. ”In Phoenix. My husband got infected. We just managed to get away in time.”