One Second After [78]
"No, people, I'm dead serious. A steam engine would be worth its weight in gold. Do any of you know how to make one, let alone repair an old one rotting behind a barn and then keep it running?"
Everyone was silent.
The thought started him rolling.
"Get a steam engine and you have power where you want it. To pump, dig, cut, hell, even mount it on the rail tracks and move things.
"I'd like to find some old guy who repaired phone lines forty years ago and could retrofit us. Prowl through the antique stores on Cherry Street and you'll find old crank phones that still might work if we could find someone who understood how to hook them up. It'd link the two ends of our community."
Several were now nodding.
"The guys I know in my Civil War Roundtable, Revolutionary War reenactors, many of them know skills that are lost to the rest of us. I want people like that. I'd trade a hundred computer-tech heads right now for one guy who understood steam engines. I'd trade a hundred lawyers for someone who could show us how to make gunpowder from what we can find here in this valley, or which roots we can dig right now and safely eat.
"An old chemist who could make ether or chloroform. Doc, we're going to need a lot of that in the months to come and I'm willing to bet we're short already.
"An old dentist who could get an old-fashioned foot-powered drill running. You folks think about that yet, next time you get a toothache? Care to have the tooth yanked instead and no painkiller while we're at it? Remember the old movies, the ones about a gang of kids and one of them usually had a bandage wrapped around his head to keep his jaw shut because he had an abscessed tooth. If we saw that two weeks ago the parents would have been arrested for child abuse. But I tell you, we'll be seeing that again, and real soon."
He suddenly realized he was rambling, the room silent, suddenly far too hot.
"Sorry. .. ."
No one spoke and he wasn't sure if it was because they were embarrassed by his rambling monologue or because he had indeed hit home with what they faced.
"I think we have it all for now," Charlie said. "Let's get to work. Meeting same time tomorrow."
The group stood up and John felt a stab of pain. Kellor was bent over the table, holding John's right hand down and taking off the bandage. The group looked over at them and he could see concern in Kate's eyes.
"John, I think you better go home. You're running a fever. I'll see if I can dig something up for it and come by later," Kellor said.
"I told you. That nurse, the tall good-looking one, Makala's her name. She's giving me Cipro."
"Well, it should have kicked in by now. I don't like this," and Kellor sniffed the bandage again, his nose wrinkling.
John looked down at his hand. It was swollen, red streaked, the exposed wound red, the edge of the flesh where it had been stitched puckered.
He was suddenly worried. God damn. An infected hand, now? He had images of Civil War era surgery.
"What the hell is it, Doc?" Kate asked, coming closer.
"Maybe staph, but I don't have the lab to test for it.
"Crops up in hospitals, nursing homes. Resistant stuff. Go home, go to bed, I'll be by later today or this evening."
"I said I was going up to the college to get some volunteers for the elementary school."
"Last thing I want is you walking around at the college or in the elementary school with that hand. If you got a staph infection, you're a spreader now. So just go home."
John nodded and stood up, feeling weak.
He headed to the door, Kellor walking alongside him. Starting the car up, John headed for home ... and as he pulled into the driveway ... he knew.
Jen was outside, sitting on the stone wall of the walkway leading to the door. Elizabeth was on one side of her, Jennifer on the other. As he got out of the car the dogs came up, but a sharp command warned them to back off.
"It's Tyler, isn't it," John said.
Jen forced a smile and nodded.
Jennifer started to sob and he put his good arm around her, his little girl burying her head in his chest.