Post by cloro on Jun 14, 2015 21:20:52 GMT
Jeff Rhiker - Combat Medic
Trash, wrecked car, dead body; the interstate was littered with the remnants of the fear that drove us down this terrible road.
Little Joey pointing excitedly out the window of our white dust-beaten van,"Look daddy, a doggy!"
"Yes son," Sarah and I said in unison," He's sleeping."
Squeezing his Snoopy stuffed animal close to his face, so that it bunched up his almond brown hair; we could tell he was starting to catch on that the deer, the dogs, and sometimes people weren't sleeping.
The goal was to make it to Sarah's family farm. It was out in Nebraska away from everything. It had been two weeks since we last had contact with them.
With all the cell phone towers down we tried a couple of vintage pay phones on couple of vacant rusty old gas stations. When we occassionly got a dial tone and could send a call out there was never an answer, it just rang.
I told Sarah they were probably just out working on the farm and not to worry. She would smile and nod her head of long blond hair in agreement but, her green hazel eyes told a different story.
I wouldn't be too long now, we were only 50 or so miles away.
Sarah and I first met at the Oakland Naval Hospital on the West Coast. I was stationed there with our unit to help train many of civilian life flight crews. She was Regional Coordinator for them.
The thought was that if there were ever a large disaster, all the teams whether military or domestic, would be on the same page.
I'd like to think that with my rank and years of service that she followed my orders but, that would have been a lie.
After a couple of arguments and close calls out in the field, we both realized we couldn't live without each other.
"Look out!," Sarah exclaimed.
I Frantically jerked the wheel to avoid what looked like a man who had stepped out from behind an empty blue truck but, it was too late.
You could feel the wheels and chassis bump and roll over the top of him.
Sliding to a stop Sarah and I jumped out of the car.
"Stay here!," I yelled grabbing my pistol.
"Like Hell," She yelled back grabbing our medical bag.
Stomping up to the gentleman who was still struggling to turn himself over. Blood covered his arms and yellow plaid shirt. His legs were clearly broken with his jeans stripped and mashed within his wounds.
"What the heck where you doing in the middle of the road?!"
"Are you ok?," asked Sarah dropping the bag next to him.
The old man's eyes were bloodshot and the sun seared across the his sunburned face. He gasped for both air and water.
After proping him up agaist the tire of what must of been his blue truck, we tried to give him both.
"Wait, I know this person," said Sarah, "You were one of my parents' neighbors."
"Have you seen my parents Bob and Sandy?"
He winced in pain and didn't respond.
"Where are they?," I shook him impatiently.
"Stop," said Sarah, "Your name is Derek right?"
He nodded and coughed before he finally exhaled, "Gone."
"What?"
His gaze suddenly began to slip as blood trickled and wet the sides of his chapped mouth.
"What?! Wait?! What happened?!", I shook him once more.
With his last breath Derek choked, "Ma...ma..mauraders."
That's when I heard the first gun shot.
I don't remember much after that.
Maybe I died. When I woke up the pool of my own blood seemed big enough.
It's been five long years since that day, all I know is both my Sarah and Joey were taken from me and I'm still alive.
Someone is going to pay.
Trash, wrecked car, dead body; the interstate was littered with the remnants of the fear that drove us down this terrible road.
Little Joey pointing excitedly out the window of our white dust-beaten van,"Look daddy, a doggy!"
"Yes son," Sarah and I said in unison," He's sleeping."
Squeezing his Snoopy stuffed animal close to his face, so that it bunched up his almond brown hair; we could tell he was starting to catch on that the deer, the dogs, and sometimes people weren't sleeping.
The goal was to make it to Sarah's family farm. It was out in Nebraska away from everything. It had been two weeks since we last had contact with them.
With all the cell phone towers down we tried a couple of vintage pay phones on couple of vacant rusty old gas stations. When we occassionly got a dial tone and could send a call out there was never an answer, it just rang.
I told Sarah they were probably just out working on the farm and not to worry. She would smile and nod her head of long blond hair in agreement but, her green hazel eyes told a different story.
I wouldn't be too long now, we were only 50 or so miles away.
Sarah and I first met at the Oakland Naval Hospital on the West Coast. I was stationed there with our unit to help train many of civilian life flight crews. She was Regional Coordinator for them.
The thought was that if there were ever a large disaster, all the teams whether military or domestic, would be on the same page.
I'd like to think that with my rank and years of service that she followed my orders but, that would have been a lie.
After a couple of arguments and close calls out in the field, we both realized we couldn't live without each other.
"Look out!," Sarah exclaimed.
I Frantically jerked the wheel to avoid what looked like a man who had stepped out from behind an empty blue truck but, it was too late.
You could feel the wheels and chassis bump and roll over the top of him.
Sliding to a stop Sarah and I jumped out of the car.
"Stay here!," I yelled grabbing my pistol.
"Like Hell," She yelled back grabbing our medical bag.
Stomping up to the gentleman who was still struggling to turn himself over. Blood covered his arms and yellow plaid shirt. His legs were clearly broken with his jeans stripped and mashed within his wounds.
"What the heck where you doing in the middle of the road?!"
"Are you ok?," asked Sarah dropping the bag next to him.
The old man's eyes were bloodshot and the sun seared across the his sunburned face. He gasped for both air and water.
After proping him up agaist the tire of what must of been his blue truck, we tried to give him both.
"Wait, I know this person," said Sarah, "You were one of my parents' neighbors."
"Have you seen my parents Bob and Sandy?"
He winced in pain and didn't respond.
"Where are they?," I shook him impatiently.
"Stop," said Sarah, "Your name is Derek right?"
He nodded and coughed before he finally exhaled, "Gone."
"What?"
His gaze suddenly began to slip as blood trickled and wet the sides of his chapped mouth.
"What?! Wait?! What happened?!", I shook him once more.
With his last breath Derek choked, "Ma...ma..mauraders."
That's when I heard the first gun shot.
I don't remember much after that.
Maybe I died. When I woke up the pool of my own blood seemed big enough.
It's been five long years since that day, all I know is both my Sarah and Joey were taken from me and I'm still alive.
Someone is going to pay.