Free Dust by Jacqueline Druga-marchetti Page A

of an asshole.”
    “Probably.” Burke stood straight, and slowly walked off, grabbing the bottle of whiskey as he did.
    Apologetically I looked to Tammy. “I’m sorry. We’re doing the best we can do.”
    Tammy nodded. “I know. And I’m fine. I mean it. If you just give me a few aspirins, something to eat, let me sleep, I’ll feel even better. Then I’ll be on my way.”
    “Tammy.” I slowly placed the final bandage on her face. “Can’t you wait ... ”
    “No. I can’t.”
    “Then what about taking Burke? He can help.”
    Again, Tammy shook her head. “No. I’m not dragging anyone out there. I’ll do this. Besides, it’s not like I won’t be back, or even gone for days. I’ll look for Mick, if no luck, I’ll come back and try again, tomorrow.”
    I know Tammy saw my reluctance to agree.
    “Jo,” She laid her hand on mine. “I have to do this. It’s my kid. Wouldn’t you do the same?”
    It wasn’t too difficult for me to place myself in Tammy’s shoes, seeing that a strong base for her argument was kneeling right there on the floor. Matty. “Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, I would.”
    I hated to say it, because in doing so, I was all but giving my go ahead and blessing to Tammy to venture out into the madness. To take on a rubble filled city with an environment that shot rays of an invisible killer at her. Tammy was safe and sound right there in my basement. But as a friend and a mother, I could give no less than encouragement, support, and prayers for her solo journey of heroism to find her son.

    ***

    Tammy rested for about two hours and was off before Craig did his three PM radio report. She returned several hours later without her son. She had checked the school and they, like the grade school, had the kids inside and below. Unfortunately for Tammy, the day of war, was one of the many times Mick had skipped class and he hadn’t showed up that day. So she headed home, futile in finding Mick there was well. We deducted upon her return that since Mick wasn’t home, or at a friend’s house, he darted somewhere for cover. Nothing happened to him and we’d walk around with a megaphone if we had to, blasting out his name in every area of their neighborhood.
    How long would Tammy physically be able to search remained to be seen. An infection in her arm was obviously brewing; the sour smell was a bit more predominant.
    Tammy was another person who joined the shelter, yet it didn’t fuel any tension. Mostly because two people didn’t have the energy, they were both ill. Tammy could throw a blanket over her arm and hide it, Sam couldn’t. I remember when I used to read about shelter conditions and illnesses; every book stated the heightened risk for respiratory infection. Sam was proving that theory absolutely correct.
    His cough grew worse, and instead of the occasional hack, he launched into full-blown fits that lasted not seconds but minutes. I knew Sam was admitting defeat to feeling sick when he went to sleep before the rest of us. His face was flush, his skin warm and dry to the touch. Burke and I both checked to see if any of Sam’s injuries were showing signs of infection. Not even the head wound did, despite the fact it still hadn’t begun to heal. He slumbered deeply, no matter how much he coughed, and that was good. Sam needed that.

    Unlike Sam, Tammy or Dan, the kids didn’t want to sleep. They didn’t want to run about, they just weren’t tired. Burke didn’t rest either. With the news that the military hadn’t even begun to ‘roll out’, the chance of looters increased. With each passing day without food, came another passing day of desperation for those who were wandering around. Burke took watch. In a chair on the landing, at the bend of the basement stairs, Burke sat. Shotgun perched across his lap, eyes peered to the door, there would be no remorse or hesitation on Burke’s part for anyone who entered that didn’t belong.
    Stay up all night; sleep when he could