The Raven's Gift - Don Rearden [91]
John pushed the covers off and pulled on his pants.
The heavy thumping on the door caught them both off guard. The one thing he’d never heard anyone in the village do was pound on a door. Even the kids who visited would only tap lightly, if they knocked at all.
“Coming!”
A scared voice came from the other side of the door.
“John? It’s Carl. Are you guys okay?”
John opened the door, and the look of fear and worry on Carl’s face troubled him.
“What’s wrong? Come in.”
Carl, wearing only a thin sweatshirt, no hat, gloves, or snow pants, shook his head. “No, I can’t. I just wanted to know if you had any medicine. Anything? My family. They’re all sick. The clinic is closed. No one has anything.”
“We don’t have much. Just some cold medicine, I think. Hold on.”
John stuck his head into their bedroom. Anna had been listening. “We don’t have anything except that nighttime stuff. Give that to him,” she said.
In the kitchen, John opened a cupboard and pulled out the bottle of NyQuil. “Do you have some ibuprofen?”
“Don’t really have anything,” Carl said. “No one does. The store is all out of everything and closed. We don’t even have Aspirin at our house.”
John emptied half the bottle of ibuprofen and then put the pills and the bottle of cold syrup into a plastic bag.
“I wish I had more for you, buddy.”
“It’s bad,” Carl said. “Real bad. People are getting really sick. Dying. I’m afraid for my little one. So sick, she is.”
“Here.” John handed the bag through the open door.
“Quyana,” Carl said, nodding. “Hope this helps. Anna sick?”
“She’s fine,” John said. “Are you going to take your girl to Bethel?”
“They aren’t letting any more patients go in the hospital. No planes can fly. Too many sick people, I guess. If she gets any worse, I might take her by sno-go anyway.”
“Do you know when the power will be back on?” John asked.
Carl shook his head. “Maybe there’s no one to check on the generator. I would, but my family needs me,” he said.
John nodded. “Take care of them,” he said. “This will be over soon.”
“See you,” Carl said, closing the door. John waited until he heard Carl’s feet on the steps and the machine roar to life and race off before he returned to their bedroom.
He stopped at the window and looked out at the sun, a dull yellow-white disc sinking into the frigid white canvas of snow and tundra.
34
“I’ll tell you what,” Red said. “If you’re set on leaving here I’ll make you a deal. A helluva deal.”
“I don’t really feel like I have much to deal with,” John replied. He looked over at the bed, where the girl was still sleeping. He was worried about what Red was going to say next. The man’s attitude had changed once he saw they were intent on leaving.
Red stood up and rubbed his lower back with both hands. “Damn cot’s not exactly comfortable,” he said. He took the kettle and set it on the hot plate. “Tea?”
John shook his head. He didn’t like Red’s tone. His mood seemed different. Detached.
“The girl—walking the distance you aim to walk with her isn’t going to be easy.”
“I’m not leaving her,” John said. “Not with you.”
“Wasn’t suggesting you should. I’ve got no use for a girl who can’t see. I’ve got some MREs you can take. They would travel a little easier than those heavy cans. You need to know that the worst part of winter is on its way and travel will be hell, no matter how prepared you are.” He sat down across the table from John.
“There’s more. Under the tank here, in my storage bunker, I’ve got two snow machines. One’s mine, the other was my wife’s. You can take her machine and the two jerry jugs of gas. That’s ten gallons. Plus the machine is full. That’s enough fuel to get you a hundred fifty or so miles upriver or to find those kids she keeps talking about, wherever you want to go.”
“What’s the catch?”
Red leaned close and said, “There is no catch. I just need you to help me with something I can’t do myself. Let’s go look at those machines.”
Red pulled the cover off the small yellow Ski-Doo. The machine had a long, narrow black seat with a metal basket at the back. Red pointed to a slender