Bedlam Read online

  “See.” Sunny pointed at the woman. “We have security.” The woman raised a hand in greeting as we passed.

  Inside the double doors, to our left, a wall of windows illuminated a former waiting room. Instead of neat rows of chairs filling the space, privacy curtains tacked to the ceiling divided the area into treatment rooms. It was a smart use of natural light now that the power grid had collapsed.

  To our right. more windows spilled light across a former coffee shop. Half a dozen people sat at the tables, sorting through piles of stuff. A man with a clipboard was apparently cataloging a mountain of canned food. Two tables were heaped high with clothing and shoes. At another table, a powerfully built man—his forearms covered with tattoos—examined bottles of prescription medicines, a pen and ledger at his side. He lifted his head and flashed a smile at Sunny.

  “Hey, Rocco,” Sunny called, waving at him. “Rocco was an obstetric nurse. He keeps track of our meds.”

  I lifted a hand in greeting. “I doubt many nurses survived. You’re lucky to have him.”

  “We are and not just because he knows about medications. He’s a great guy, super friendly, always willing to help out.”

  I frowned. Why did her enthusiastic praise for the man rub me the wrong way? People bonded quickly at the end of the world, but it hadn’t occurred to me that Sunny might have found love during the past four months. I thought of Sunny as Jake’s kid sister, but at twenty-one—only thirteen months younger than Jake—she was no kid. Men outnumbered women in the post-pandemic world. An attractive young woman like Sunny would have no shortage of suitors.

  “Are you two…” I pointed between Sunny and Rocco, leaving the question hanging in the air.

  A pink flush crept across her cheeks. She shook her head. “No, Rocco and I are friends. That’s all.”

  The tension in my chest eased, replaced by a jolt of relief.

  “Good,” I said.

  Sunny glanced at me, her brows raised, before moving on.

  An elderly man sat at the reception desk in the middle of the foyer, several file folders stacked neatly in front of him. “Hi, Ed.” Sunny smiled at the gray-haired man. “This is my friend, Kyle.”

  “Kyle.” He nodded at me, his gaze reassuringly sharp and assessing. I was glad to see his wariness. He should be cautious of any stranger.

  “Nice to meet you, sir.”

  Sunny touched Ed’s arm. “We couldn’t do without Ed. He keeps track of everybody who comes in for treatment or supplies.”

  “I was an accountant,” Ed said. “I’m older than dirt, so paper records are nothing new to me.”

  “Sounds like you’re the right man for the job,” I said.

  “That I am.”

  “Do you know where Sara is?” Sunny asked. “I need to talk to her.”

  Ed pointed toward the curtained cubicles. “Dr. Russo is setting a broken arm.”

  “I’ll show Kyle around while we wait for her to finish up.”

  Ed handed her a solar powered lantern—the kind Miles had stockpiled. Sunny grabbed my hand and led me around the reception desk toward a hallway. “All of our storage rooms are along this corridor.” She opened the first door. “Our pharmacy. Our scavengers bring back all the pill bottles and first aid supplies they come across. Combined with all the meds from the hospital pharmacy, we have a good supply.”

  I followed her inside the room. Metal shelving units held boxes full of both over-the-counter and prescription medications. I glanced at a box on a shelf near the door. Somebody had written prenatal vitamins on the front with a black Sharpie. Next to it, a box labeled childrens vitamins. Another box marked adult vitamins. The place appeared well organized and well stocked.

  “Come on.” Sunny tugged my hand and pulled me back into the hall. A wiry man with a reddish beard bustled past us carrying an armful of heavy winter coats. “Hi, Gavin,” Sunny called. “Gavin is second-in-command around here,” she explained.

  He tossed a smile over his shoulder, then awkwardly shifted the coats to one arm while he reached for the doorknob of a room marked Community Closet.

  “Let me help.” I jumped forward and opened the door.

  “Thanks, man.” He tilted his head at the pile of coats. “We’re expecting a cold winter. Want to make sure we have enough coats for everybody who needs one.”

  Confusion furrowed my brow. “Back in Portland, survivors cleaned out the grocery and liquor stores fast. Pharmacies and weed shops, too, but the department stores still had plenty of clothes left. I mean, how many winter coats does one person need? Is it really likely that you’re going to run low on them?”

  Gavin and Sunny exchanged a glance. Gavin dropped the pile of coats on a table inside the door of the community closet, then he turned to me. “Sounds like you don’t have anybody like the Nampa Boys in Portland.”

  “The Nampa Boys?”

  “That’s what they call themselves,” Sunny said. “They’re a group of teenage flu survivors from Nampa who banded together. They all wear blue baseball caps with NB written on the front.”

  “They tag a building with their name to warn other survivors to keep their hands off whatever is inside,” Gavin added “Our scavengers first bumped into them when we went to check out a pharmacy in Meridian. They’ve laid claim to Nampa, Caldwell, Meridian, most of the cities close to Boise. We signed a treaty with them. We stay out of the places they’ve claimed, and they stay out of Boise. The arrangement has worked, mostly.”

  “Mostly?” I asked.

  “In the last couple of weeks, we’ve started to see the words Nampa Boys spray-painted on some buildings inside the Boise city limits.” Gavin shook his head. “Violating the treaty makes no sense. It’s benefited both sides. But who knows what’s going on with them. Maybe their leader is losing his grip on his people.”

  “I saw two Nampa Boys downtown yesterday,” Sunny said. “They were breaking windows and tagging buildings. That’s what I need to talk to Dr. Russo about.”

  Holy hell. What was going on in my hometown? Was war brewing between rival bands of survivors? If so, the Haven would need more than one woman with a shotgun standing guard over their stockpile of supplies. I glanced at Sunny. The danger she’d so far escaped might be heading her way.

  “We haven’t had any direct confrontations with the Nampa Boys,” Gavin said.

  “Yet,” I muttered, my imagination spinning with dire possibilities.

  “Anyway,” he continued, “our scavengers are making sure to pick up everything we might need, just in case things escalate between our groups.”

  “You were asking to see me, Sunny?” A young woman wearing a white lab coat walked toward us. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail that had slipped sideways on her head. Purplish smudges stained the skin under her bloodshot eyes. Despite her obvious exhaustion, she smiled at us as she approached.

  “Yes.” Sunny hugged the woman. “First things first, Dr. Sara Russo, meet Kyle Chamberlain. Kyle and I grew up on the same street, and he was my brother’s best friend. Kyle, Dr. Russo was a third-year resident in emergency medicine when the flu struck. She runs the Haven.”

  “Call me Sara.” Dr. Russo extended a slim hand to me. She tilted her head and studied me with a quizzical expression. “You weren’t in Boise when the pandemic started?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I was going to school in Portland. I came back to town yesterday to check on my parents. They’re gone, but I found Sunny.”

  “I’m sorry about your family, but you and Sunny finding each other is amazing,” she said. “Most of us never get the chance to reconnect with an old friend.”

  “We’re lucky,” Sunny agreed. “Now I’m trying to convince Kyle to stay in Boise and help out here.”

  Trust Sunny to blurt out whatever was on her mind. The girl couldn’t do subtle or subterfuge if her life depended on it. All right. I’d match her forthright declaration with one of my own.

  “And I’m trying to convince Sunny t
o come back to Oregon with me.” All eyes turned toward me. “I’m staying with friends at a ranch in the central part of the state. We’ve got food, water, weapons. The ranch is way off the beaten track. She’d be safer with me than in the city dealing with the Nampa Boys.”

  “Sunny saw Nampa Boys tagging a building downtown yesterday,” Gavin said.

  “Dammit.” Sara shook her head. “We’ve coexisted for months. Why would they break the treaty now?” Her expression clouded, and she touched Sunny’s shoulder. “Maybe you should think about Kyle’s offer. We’d all miss you like crazy if you left, but it would be good to know you’re someplace safe.”

  “Nope. I’m part of the team. I’m not bailing on you guys.”

  At her intransigence, my heart sank. Valhalla was my home. I’d no more abandon Ripper and Kenzie and the others than I’d turn my back on my family. If Sunny felt the same way about the Haven, we’d end up butting heads. There was absolutely no way that I’d walk away from this spirited woman who already made me feel more alive than I had in months. Shit. Why couldn’t she see reason and put herself first?

  Commotion at the hospital entrance drew our attention. Two men staggered through the double doors. The taller of the two had slung his arm around his companion’s shoulders, leaning heavily on him. Sara ran toward them, with Sunny, Gavin, and me close behind.

  “What happened?” the doctor demanded, easing the tall man into a chair. Pale and dripping sweat, he slumped sideways, pressing a hand against his chest.

  “The Nampa Boys,” the shorter man gasped. “Two pickups blockaded our car. Men wearing blue baseball caps fired shots in the air. One guy shouted, ‘Boise belongs to us.’ Then they pulled away.” He pointed at his companion. “I think Larry is having a heart attack.”

  FIVE

  Sunny

  “I’m coming with you,” I said to Kyle’s back.

  Kyle slid extra ammunition into the pocket of his shoulder holster. He turned to face me, his expression tight. “You’re not coming with me. Jake would have my head if I put you in harm’s way.”

  After stabilizing Larry, Sara met with Gavin and Ed, the other members of the Haven’s executive committee. They were drafting a message to the Nampa Boys, and Kyle volunteered to deliver it.

  “We’re dropping off a note, not going into battle,” I said. I waited a few seconds for him to respond. He didn’t. “I’ve done it before, you know. Left messages for the Nampa Boys.”

  That got his attention. “Are you telling me that they’ve sent you by yourself to a deserted park close to enemy territory?”

  Enemy territory? Good grief, Kyle was over reacting. Planting my hands on my hips, I gazed up at him. He loomed over me, his face set in stern lines. Heat flushed my cheeks. Indignation battled with reluctant exhilaration. His over protectiveness got under my skin in more than one way.

  I poked his chest. “First, the drop-off spot is on neutral ground. We’ve agreed not to confront each other there. Second, we use the buddy system around here. Scavengers, messengers, we never go out alone and unarmed.” My conscience pinged. Except for on the rare occasions when I made a quick stop by myself, but yesterday was the first time that even threatened to go wrong. “And third, we aren’t at war with the Nampa Boys. The truce has held for months.”

  His brows angled up. “Tagging buildings? Blockading cars? Firing shots in the air? You telling me that those are the actions of a friend?”

  “Of course not. That’s why Sara is asking for a meeting, to figure out what’s going on. Maybe they are backing out of the treaty. Or maybe they have discipline problems, and some Nampa Boys are going rogue. We don’t know what’s going on, hence the parley.”

  “I don’t like it.” Kyle scowled and crossed his arms over his chest, an action that made his biceps bulge, which distracted me no end. Not fair.

  “Leaving a note at the drop-off spot is a low-risk operation.” I pointed at his gun. “But if anything goes wrong, you’re armed. And I know the exact spot where to leave the message. We’ll be in and out fast.”

  Conflicting emotions danced across his face, his knee-jerk desire to protect me at war with reason. “All right,” he muttered, his expression unhappy.

  Mom always said that it never hurts to be gracious in victory. I smiled. “Thanks.”

  I knocked on the door of the conference room. Gavin stepped into the hall and handed me the envelope. “Check back at the hospital once you’ve delivered the message.”

  “Will do. Afterward, I’d like to take Kyle with me on a scavenging run, so he can see what I do around here.”

  Gavin clapped me on the shoulder, then handed me a pair of the red vests all the Haven scavengers wore to identify ourselves. “Good idea.”

  Kyle and I walked back to Daisy. I tossed the red vests onto the back seat.

  Twenty minutes after we left downtown Boise, we arrived at the small park on the east side of Meridian. The place appeared desolate, the basketball courts, baseball diamond, and playground equipment empty. Between the bathrooms and the picnic shelters, a dozen public barbecue grills dotted the knee-high grass. With their rusty grates and piles of ash, even before the pandemic, these public grills struck me as kind of yucky. After months of neglect, they now looked even the worse for wear.

  I led Kyle to the most decrepit grill, the one with a charred brick supporting one side of the grate. Brushing aside the mountain of ash that covered the bottom of the grill, I pulled out a thin hinged metal box and popped the lid. It was empty.

  “Our message drop,” I said. “If we need to communicate with the Nampa Boys, we leave a note here. Both sides check the box on Saturday and Wednesday late in the afternoon.” I folded the envelope from Gavin in half, slipped it into the box, and buried it under the ash. “It’s Wednesday. They’ll see the invitation to the meet-up within a couple of hours.”

  Kyle scanned our surroundings before turning his eyes back toward me. “Meridian is Nampa Boys territory, right?”

  “Yes, but the park is a no man’s land. Unless things have completely gone to hell, we shouldn’t have any trouble.”

  “I feel eyes on us,” he said, reaching for his gun. “Let’s get out of here.”

  The happy-go-lucky charmer I’d grown up with was gone, wasn’t he? The new Kyle had an edge—a hardness—that the old Kyle never possessed. It made me shiver, but not in an unpleasant way. He was still Kyle, still charismatic and a bit cocky, but the amiable, easygoing young man was no more. Whatever he had experienced during the past months had changed my old friend.

  We climbed into Daisy and sat in silence as I drove west to the Haven headquarters. Kyle kept his gun on his lap and his gaze on our surroundings. His vigilance was unnerving. Boise was almost empty. We’d found no more than two hundred people alive in the city. Until yesterday afternoon, I hadn’t had any close calls. I assumed that the few survivors meant me no harm. I felt safe behind the van’s locked doors, with the pepper spray on hand. Had I been too careless? Too unwary of danger?

  I parked next to the hospital’s entrance. “You might as well wait in the van. I won’t be a minute,” I said. Before Kyle could protest, I jumped out of the van and jogged inside. Ed was back behind the reception desk. The executive committee’s meeting must be over. “Tell Gavin that we dropped off the message, please.”

  “Will do.” Ed glanced at my face, frowning. “You all right, honey?”

  “Kyle thinks that I need to learn how to shoot and that I should carry a gun. What do you think?”

  “I’d say it’s about time.”

  “Really?” I hadn’t expected such a simple, straightforward answer. Ed was the guy who balanced pros and cons, looking at both sides of every argument when the Haven debated a course of action.

  “Yep.”

  I glanced over my shoulder. Kyle watched our conversation intently. “Thanks, Ed. I’ll think about it.” I waved at Rocco and the others, then hurried back to the van.

  “You up for some scavenging,
Haven style?” I asked, fastening my seat belt.

  Kyle tilted his head. “What does Haven style mean?”

  “We wear red vests to identify ourselves. We always knock on the doors in case a survivor lives in the house. If we find a survivor, we write down the address for Ed’s records, and we tell them about the Haven. Most places are empty. Some have already been hit by looters. For the past week, we’ve been working our way up and down the streets on the west side of town.”

  “Sounds simple enough. So, we’re looking for nonperishable foods, medicine, and weapons?” he asked.

  “Yeah, and we check the garages, too, for gasoline and motor oil, stuff we need to keep our cars running.”

  I drove to a residential street about a mile from Mrs. B’s place and parked in front of a blue house. Three houses on the street sported red X’s spray-painted on the front door. Kyle glanced at the red X’s and raised his eyebrows.

  “The X means we’ve checked the house.” I tossed him a vest and slipped into my own, then picked up empty cardboard boxes from the back of the van, a can of spray paint, and a crowbar. “Grab some more boxes, will you?”

  “Sure.” He tucked the boxes under his left arm, leaving his right hand free. His piercing gaze moved up and down the quiet, tree-lined street before settling on me. “I’ll go first.” Without waiting for my reply, he led the way up the walk toward the blue house. He pounded his fist on the door and cocked his head, listening intently. After a minute, he pounded on the door again. No sounds came from inside the house.

  Kyle twisted the doorknob. Locked. The homeowners had installed a heavy entry door with a dead bolt. There might be an easier way inside. “Sometimes people leave their back doors unlocked,” I said. “And even if the doors are latched, a lot of times the wood is flimsier, and the locks are easier to break.”

  Kyle smiled down at me, and butterflies danced in my stomach. “Never would’ve pegged you for an expert on breaking and entering.”