One Second After [31]
"Where you from?" John asked.
"Charlotte. Supervising nurse for a cardiac surgical unit. Was coming up here to attend a conference at Memorial Mission Hospital on a new procedure for heart arrhythmias.
"Now, could you do me a favor and tell me just what the hell is going on?"
"That reminds me," John said. "Look, I've got to do something right now. Will you be here in ten minutes?" "Sure."
He got back into the car, hesitated, and looked at her. "I'm heading to the drugstore right now. I need to get something. If you want, you can come along." She didn't move.
"I'm not trying to pick you up or anything. Really. I got to get some medication for my daughter. Just I can answer your questions while I drive."
"OK. Don't seem to be going anywhere else."
It was only several more blocks to the shopping plaza with Ingram's market and the CVS drugstore. The parking lot was nearly full, but no one was about.
He got out and looked at the drugstore, disappointed; it was dark. Damn, it must be closed, but then he realized the absurdity of that; all the stores were dark.
"I think it was EMP, like I just said," John said, continuing their brief conversation.
"Had the same thought."
"Why?"
She smiled.
"I help run a surgical unit. We had a lot of disaster drills, especially since nine-eleven. We did a scenario on that one, EMP. It wasn't pleasant. Kept me awake thinking for nights afterwards. Hospitals aren't hardened to absorb it; the emergency backup generators will blow out along with everything else, and you know what that means."
"You'll have to tell me more later on," John said. He pulled on the door and it swung open.
Inside was a minor bedlam, a harried clerk behind the counter shouting, "Please, everyone, it is cash only. I'm sorry, no checks...."
John walked past her to the back of the store and the pharmacist counter. One of the regulars was there, Rachel, her daughter was one of Elizabeth's friends. One of a line of a dozen people, a heavyset man in his early forties, bit of a tacky suit, tie pulled down and half open, was at the counter.
"Listen to me!" he shouted at Rachel. "I need that prescription filled now, god damn it."
"And sir. I keep trying to tell you, I'm sorry, but we don't know you, we don't have a record for you on file, and that, sir, is a controlled substance."
"I'm from out of town, damn it. Don't you hicks up here understand that? Now listen, bitch, I want that prescription."
John caught the eye of Liz, the pharmacist. She was in her early thirties and, John always thought, about the most attractive pharmacist he had ever laid eyes on. She was also married to an ex-ranger. Unfortunately, her husband was nowhere around and with Liz at not much more than five two and a hundred pounds, she was definitely way out of her league.
Liz looked at him appealingly. John took it in, looked around, a book and magazine rack by the counter. Nothing he could use. The cooler for beverages, however, was about twenty feet away.
He backed over to it, not many had hit here yet, reached in, and pulled out a liter bottle of Coors beer. Makala was looking at him with disgust, not understanding what was happening.
Liz, coming up to the counter, tried to confront the belligerent customer, extending her hand for him to calm down.
"Listen, damn it. OxyContin, you hear me. I'll take thirty and you can call my doctor once the power comes back on and he'll confirm it."
"Sir. Please leave this store."
"That's it! Both of you bitches, get out of my way."
He started to climb over the counter, Liz backing up.
John was up beside him and slashed out, the bottle smashing across the side of the man's head, shattering.
As he started to collapse, John pulled him back from the counter, flinging him to the ground, and for good measure stomped him in the solar plexus, doubling him up.
The man was on the floor, keening with a high, piercing shrill. Everyone else stood silent, stunned. John looked over at Liz. Sorry.
He actually felt embarrassed by what had just happened. He had broken a societal taboo; folks around