Finished first, Lewis left his wife behind and burst outside, wading through snow well above his knees with a thick crust that shattered into chunks at every lurching step. They had cleared a path between most of the shelter group houses, and the road was clear as well, but he cut a direct path to the house the surgeon was staying in with his family and Carrie Grant.
Langstrom didn’t complain about being woken up, and neither did his family or the young veteran sleeping on the other side of a basic partition. The surgeon quickly pulled on his own coat, hat, and gloves and grabbed his bag, instructing Lewis to describe the problem as they hurried back to the Halsson cabin.
When they burst through the door into the pale blue LED light Lewis caught a glimpse of Langstrom’s expression before he put on a mask from his bag. That brief look told him everything he needed to know about how serious this was.
The surgeon quickly pulled on gloves as well, not latex but thick rubber that could be sterilized after use, then entered the room and made his way over to Lucas. “Describe where the break is for me,” he said briskly, ignoring the older man’s tearstained face and shuddering sobs.
With Lucas’s help he pinpointed which rib was broken. He was kind enough not to try to confirm it by touch, which would’ve only caused more pain. “Lewis, get a clean cloth and pack some snow into it,” he said in the same brisk tone. “I’d like to try to reduce the swelling. Then we need to tape it if you have any available. I realize athletic tape is probably too much to ask, but packing or masking tape isn’t bad. Duct tape will work but, well, it’s going on skin.”
Lewis bit back a curse. “All we’ve got is duct tape.”
“Duct tape it is, then,” Langstrom said. Behind Lewis the door opened, Jane returning with Terry.
Mary hurried to dig out the tape from one of the bins, while Lewis and his wife found a dish towel and headed outside to pack it with snow.
Just outside the door Lewis sagged against the wall, gasping for breath. He knew the situation was urgent, but he needed a moment before he lost it completely. “I should’ve held some back,” he finally said.
He wasn’t sure Jane had a clue what he meant, although she probably did since he’d been dwelling on this almost nonstop. She didn’t answer, though, so he kept going. “I knew I should’ve. Those livestock antibiotics and painkillers could save his life, and would definitely ease his suffering.” Lewis clenched his fist around the towel. “I knew we’d need them at some point. It was completely rational to keep them.”
“We did need them at some point,” his wife pointed out bluntly. “Which was why we used them to help the other volunteers.”
“Then I’m selfish,” Lewis spat. “We saved friends and neighbors, and I didn’t hesitate at the time. I knew if I had I’d feel guilty.” He looked along the wall to the dark outline of the window he’d installed in his room, where dim light filtered through the thick covering and insulation they put over it at night. “Now I have to watch Dad die in agony, knowing I had what he needed. Knowing if it was a choice between him and the neighbors and friends I helped, I’d pick him without hesitation. Only I was too stupid at the time to be selfish, even though I knew I’d regret it.”
Lewis loved his wife more than words, and he accepted the way she was. But right then, with his world crashing down around him, he wished she would open her mouth and tell him his dad wasn’t going to die. Wished she’d put her arms around him, pull his head down to her shoulder, and tell him everything would turn out okay.
But she didn’t. Jane saw the terrible truth just like he did, and it wasn’t in her nature to offer comforting lies. Even if she somehow realized he needed one, she wouldn’t even know how to try.
So he pulled her to him instead, held her tight and closed his eyes and just tried to blank his mind. His dad needed the ice, but he needed a minute to reconcile what a bad son he’d been. The guilt wasn’t new, Lewis had been feeling it ever since Terry diagnosed Lucas, but in the face of his dad’s enormous suffering it threatened to overwhelm him.
He’d prepared for this! Before the Gulf burned he’d planned for sickness, for pain, and he’d gotten the supplies he’d need. Antibiotics for livestock that he’d checked could also be used by humans, as well as tables for dosages. Painkillers and general symptom relief medicine, although not as much of the latter. Of the important stuff, though, he’d had enough to last his family for years. So after the world ended, when they needed them most and there was no other way to get them, the people he loved would have what they needed.
It hadn’t been a massive supply, but it had been more than enough for a few people. He could’ve pocketed a handful of pills from it, a dozen from each bottle, and the heart-wrenching nightmare his dad was going through would be bearable.
But he hadn’t, because at the time others had needed them and he couldn’t say no. His dad had been there for him every day of his life. His wisdom and guidance had made Lewis the man he was today. What kind of son failed his father like this?
A lot of Lewis’s plans had gone awry. A lot of his preparations had been insufficient, or had been deprived of him due to the actions of others. He’d lost most of the food and other supplies he’d stored for himself and his family. He’d lost the shelter, which was now a gutted husk of slagged metal and fused dirt. His loved ones faced a hard winter because he hadn’t done enough to prepare for it.
But with all that, this was the first time he truly regretted a decision even after thinking it through rationally. The first time he felt like he’d made a serious mistake. He’d weighed the immediate need of suffering and dying friends against the potential need he might have for those lifesaving supplies, and had gambled against the future.
And lost.
He felt guilty for saving his friends’ lives, knowing now what it had cost him. And he felt like a monster for feeling guilty. But if he could go back he’d refuse them and think only of his family’s potential need first. He’d let those supplies sit there, unused, just in case they could help his loved ones at some point in the future. And he wouldn’t regret it.
Jane shivered and reached up to brush at the icy tear that had dripped onto her chin, then reached up further to feel at his face. Her gloved hand felt warm, and with a start Lewis realized there were tears that had frosted in the bitter cold, sticking to his skin.
This wasn’t weather to cry in. Or sit outside in for that matter. And his dad needed this ice pack. His son may have failed to get him the medicine he needed, but he could still fill a towel with some snow to slap on the broken rib that had shattered his will.
Sighing, he knelt and gathered up some powder, just enough that he could still fully wrap the towel around it and bunch the ends. Then he started for the door.
Before he could open it Jane caught his arm, looking up at him. “I don’t know what to say to you,” she said, sounding miserable and frustrated. “I don’t know what to do.”
Lewis pulled her into a quick hug, tensing slightly as the noise of his dad coughing followed by panting screams reached his ears through the door. “Neither do I,” he whispered.
He pushed open the door and slipped inside after his wife, closing it quickly behind them. Mary’s tear-streaked face greeted him from the doorway to his room, clutching the roll of duct tape in her hands. Lewis couldn’t meet her gaze as he slipped through to hand Langstrom the makeshift ice pack.
If he had the choice to make again, he knew he’d give out the medicine to his friends and fellow volunteers when and where it was needed. It may not be the right choice, but without knowing the future he didn’t see how he could’ve done anything but what he did. He could try to tell himself that for good or ill that decision was in the past, and dwelling on it couldn’t change what was happening now.