Chapter 17 #2
John wasn’t sure if Parker was going to use force against him, but before the situation escalated between them any further, there were cries for help upstairs.
“Dad!” Blake shouted.
John hurried past Parker and rushed up the steps.
He was afraid something had happened to Jake, but when he reached the first floor, he saw another one of his neighbors in the doorway.
It was Margaret Baker from three houses down.
She was hysterical and sobbing and speaking so fast that John couldn’t even understand what she was saying.
Eventually, John managed to get her to calm down, and she was able to speak more coherently.
“Sarah, my daughter, she’s going into shock,” Margaret said. “She doesn’t have any more insulin, and I was supposed to pick up her prescription today, but then the power went out, and the car won’t start and?—”
“It’s okay,” John said, calming the woman down. “Where is her pharmacy?”
“It’s over in Eaglewood,” Margaret answered.
John knew that place was at least thirty minutes away, even with a vehicle. That wasn’t time he could afford to spend on another mission when his wife’s life was in the balance. But he also couldn’t leave Margaret and her daughter hanging when he had a working car and could get there quickly.
“There’s a closer pharmacy,” John said. “We can run up there and grab the insulin and bring it back.”
Margaret lunged forward and hugged John tightly. “Thank you so much.”
John wanted to tell her not to thank him yet because there was no guarantee that the pharmacy nearby would even have the medicine, but right now, it was their best chance at finding it quickly.
“Stay here and watch Jake, okay?” John asked, looking at his son.
Blake nodded, and as John studied his son, he noticed a change in his demeanor. He wasn’t as timid and frightened as he was before, and John wondered what had changed.
“It’s okay, Dad,” Blake answered. “It’s like you said. We all need to help.”
John had never been more proud of his son than at that moment. It wasn’t easy to do the right thing in times of crisis. But he was happy to see that his son was rising to the challenge.
“Just stay here, and I’ll be back as soon as I can,” John said.
Parker emerged from the basement, and he locked eyes with John.
They still hadn’t finished the conversation from down below, and John wondered if Parker was still going to be a stickler about following protocol.
But after John filled Parker in on the situation with Margaret’s little girl, he softened up a bit.
“I’ll come with you,” Parker said.
John didn’t object because he wasn’t sure what kind of trouble they might run into on the road. But he wanted to finish the conversation about going after Dillon and recovering his wife.
Because John was more familiar with the area, he drove while Parker rode shotgun. It was difficult to see through the cracked windshield, but John navigated the road fairly easily.
“Have you driven one of these things before?” Parker asked.
“I did a few long hauls in my early twenties for a trucking company one summer,” John answered. “This isn’t the first big rig I’ve driven.”
Parker nodded. It was awkward between them, but John still wanted to finish the conversation from earlier.
“I’m coming with you,” John said. “It would be better for both of us if you accepted that fact.”
Parker was quiet for a long time, and John wondered if things would turn violent. That was the last thing he wanted, but he wouldn’t let anyone come between him and reaching his wife. When Parker finally spoke, he surprised John.
“I was working a case three years ago,” Parker said. “It was the first one I was appointed as lead. Nothing was going to stop me from catching the perp. But I ended up breaking the cardinal rule of police work and was making promises I couldn’t keep to the family of the victim. It didn’t end well.”
“I’m sorry,” John said.
“You never know what’s going to happen when you work a case,” Parker said. “And considering how smart and dangerous Dillon Elliot is, I don’t think this is a good idea. But I’m not going to stand in your way.”
“Thank you,” John said.
“I just hope history doesn’t repeat itself,” Parker said.
“That makes two of us,” John replied.
John made good time on the drive to the nearest pharmacy. Just like the rest of the suburbs, the pharmacy wasn’t looted and smashed to bits. There was actually a line coming out of the door where people waited patiently for their medications.
The pedestrians looked at the old army truck as if it were Santa and his eight flying reindeer. But once John explained the situation with the insulin, no one objected to allowing them to cut to the front of the line.
The pharmacist was a young man, looking barely old enough to have graduated college. He was sweaty, and his hair was a mess. He was clearly overwhelmed, but he was still there, still working and trying to make a difference by keeping the doors open and keeping everyone calm.
“I only have one dose of insulin left,” the young pharmacist said. “And it’s for him.”
The pharmacist gestured to the man at the front of the line, and John saw it was a middle-aged man who looked in good health. But diabetes was a silent killer, and anyone who needed insulin to survive wouldn’t last long without it.
John wasn’t sure if Margaret’s daughter had the time it would take to go to another store, not to mention every second that John spent chasing insulin was one less he had to reach his wife.
“I’m sorry,” the man said. “But I’m almost out.”
“There’s a girl in my neighborhood who is already going into shock from insulin withdrawal,” John said. “I’m not sure how much longer she’s going to last.”