After The Storm (Chapter-1)

Chapter one:

The night was cold and rainy, with fog so thick you could barely see the road ahead. Carissa was taking things really slow maneuvering her older SUV around each curve of the two-lane highway. She had spent the holidays with friends but was headed back to her empty country home. She had taken two weeks off from her job at the hospital where she worked the night shift as a trauma nurse. Carissa kept moving forward, slow and steady, with her low beams and fog lights attempting to light a path for her. Her fear was always a deer running across the road because she had seen the results of that in the emergency room enough times.

Driving slow paid off as she saw something across the highway just ahead. She slowed and then stopped as she got close enough to get out and investigate. It appeared to be a body and that became more obvious when she got close enough to see it. She ran to it and checked the pulse first thing, which she found present but weak. She had been a nurse for a lot of years and knew how to move bodies, but she had never moved one out of the highway before. She couldn’t call 911, she had no signal in this isolated area. She knew the highway would have areas under water with this storm. It happened every time there was a significant rain.

She went back to her vehicle to set out road flares even though she knew there would be no traffic in this weather. Most of the people who lived in this area would already be blocked off by the flooding waters. She eased her SUV beside the body and opened the back door next to the soaking wet man. She managed to get his head and upper torso into the back seat. She ran to the opposite door and pulled inch by inch holding under his shoulders until she had him all the way into the seat.

She didn’t find any signs of a vehicle in sight. It appeared that for some reason his body was dumped there and left for dead. But she knew enough that she intended to prevent the dead part. She slowly completed her journey to the house she had inherited from her parents. The SUV was perfect for going through some deeper areas that she shouldn’t have tried with another vehicle, but she made it through. The next problem was getting the man inside her house. She had a wheelchair available from when she cared for her father in this house and some things for managing handicapped people but nothing that gave her any ideas on how to get the man into the wheelchair.

She brought the wheelchair closer to the car seat and pushed it against the car before locking the brakes on the chair. She grabbed the man under his shoulders again where she had been successful moving him before. She pulled a little at a time and then began lifting his shoulders upward till his head was resting at the top of the chair back, then she pulled him by the waist to get him seated into the chair. She managed to get it done even though it was the longest forty-five minutes of her life. She was soaked from the rain as was the man and the chair. The man still had his legs on the car seat, so Carissa unlocked the brakes and pulled back on the chair allowing the man’s legs to fall down and bend at the knees. She pulled the chair back enough to get the door closed and then made her way inside the house.

She pushed the chair up the ramp she had used so many times with her dad and got him inside out of the rain. She wanted to get him in a bed so she could begin to analyze his injuries. She had the wide handicap belts she used to move her dad around and she put it on this man and used all her strength to get him on the bed. First across it and finally she got him turned and into position. She had to rest and catch her breath before continuing to try to find out what injuries had been sustained. His clothes looked dirty, and blood stained and needed to be removed. Once she got him undressed she began the cleanup process.

She discovered what looked like stab wounds and bruising that indicated he had been punched or kicked multiple times. She had to think to herself that someone had been really pissed at him for some reason. She put antibiotic cream over all of the stab wounds after cleaning them out and then she wrapped him with gauze. It looked like the bleeding had stopped and she hoped that a little rest in a dry place would work wonders for his well-being. Once the swelling went down, she could tell more what he looked like and maybe try to find out who might know him. She couldn’t get any cell service this far out, but she had a CB radio that she left on to see if any announcements were broadcast about someone missing.

She couldn’t imagine why someone would do such a thing to another human. She checked the pants she took off of the man and there was a wallet, apparently intact. It had money, cards and a driver’s license. She thought to herself that robbery wasn’t the motive. His license said his name was Paul Daniels and he was thirty-eight. It was an out of state license but at least she knew a name and address. She should be able to track down family from that information. She would take the information to town when the weather and roads cleared and see if the sheriff had any information about him, but for now she would just try to nurse him back to health.

It had been a long day and it was time to get some sleep. She checked on her patient one more time before turning in and found him breathing easily, though a bit shallow. She thought she would let him rest and check again in the morning. When she got to her room, she locked her bedroom door and laid her nine-millimeter pistol on the nightstand next to her bed. It was just a precaution since she knew nothing about her patient. In time she hoped to know more but for now she would simply play it safe. She really didn’t think he was in any condition to create any harm for the moment.

Carissa didn’t have much experience with pistols, she had fired at paper targets a few times, but she still felt more secure with the gun handy. It had been a gift from her father when he was a patrol officer with the police department. He told her since she lived alone, he would feel better if she kept it handy. She usually travelled to and from work with it because she worked the night shift. It was somewhat ironic that her father gave her the pistol, since it was a pistol that made him disabled. It was his last traffic stop; he was shot before he ever made it to the car window. They never caught the driver; he sped off before anyone ever got a license plate number and his memory of the incident was as faded as the jeans he wore when off duty.

As was often the case after getting into bed, she could feel her dry mouth begging for her to quench its thirst. She got back up to get a drink of water from the dispenser on her refrigerator. She stood in the kitchen without any light except the moonlight that filtered through the window. She noticed the rectangle shapes of the windowpanes illuminating her pajama top as she sipped the liquid from the plastic cup she grabbed from the counter. The storm had moved on and the flood waters should be lower by morning. You could actually see the stars in the night sky, reflecting on the puddles that scattered through the landscape.

Before she settled into sleep, she decided to put out one call on the CB to see if anyone knew of a missing person. Her CB had been quiet, and she knew most people had them in vehicles and there was just a slim chance anyone was listening.

She picked up the microphone and said, “Breaker, Breaker, this is ’Sassy Lassie”, I have an injured man at my house, and I am looking to see if anyone out in CB land has reported a missing person. Anyone interested in adoption can just reimburse me for the gauze and he can be yours.”

She added the adoption portion just as a joke, since she was known for her humor. Unfortunately, she knew a few women in the area that would have paid extra if they knew it was a young attractive man.

 The CB remained silent, not even a crackle came through. She figured as much but she had to try. She left the radio on and walked back to her room but made a quick stop to check on the patient. The movement of his chest told her he was at least still alive. She was going to try once more to get some rest. She didn’t know what shape her guest would be in by morning. She was back in bed and went through her checklist before she dozed off. Door locked, check. Pistol ready, check. Cover pulled up, double check.

She knew she wouldn’t fall asleep immediately, she never did. Her mind was always busy going through the things that needed to be done, worrying about what didn’t get done and wondering what she forgot to put on her list. She usually took an evening pain medication with a sleep aid to help her find Mr. Sandman. She was a little excited about whether her patient would be any better by morning. She finally got groggy enough to fall all the way to sleep and the morning sun shining through her window told her she had slept through the night. She got out of bed and made her bathroom run and then with the pistol discretely in the pocket of her robe, she went into the room where her patient still lay breathing quietly. She checked his pulse and it seemed to be stronger than the night before and that was good news.

She went back into the kitchen to make some breakfast, but she first got back on the CB to try again to see if any missing persons had been reported.

This time however, there was an answer back, “This is sheriff Thomas, what do you have up there?”

She started giving information about the man. Paul Daniels, thirty-eight years old from Cedar Rapids.

The sheriff came back on, “I will take that information and check it out. The main bridge to town is washed out so it will be a few days before anyone can come up there. Since you are a nurse, it is probably better for you to take care of him instead of moving him anyway.”