A Powerless World | Book 3 | Defend The Homestead Hunt, Jack (read my book TXT) 📖

and what that treatment offers. He’s lost a lot of blood. He may go into hypovolemic shock.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s when you lose more than 20 percent of your blood. It can lead to organ failure. He needs medical treatment, blood, fluids, and a surgeon. Fast. If you don’t get him looked at fast, the infection could lead to other complications. Doesn’t Humboldt have a hospital?”

“They do but the situation isn’t much better than here. Our supplies were destroyed. The militia have been bringing in supplies from delivery trucks throughout the county and further afield but it’s not enough.”

“Further afield?” she asked.

Jessie stared back at her, a thought dawning on him.

“You think they did this?” she asked.

“Hey, I don’t trust them but I hardly think they are the type to go scalping people. Shoot someone, yeah, but scalping? That sounds like…” He stopped short of saying it. Many of the counties in California had Native Americans. There were at least five tribes in Humboldt, good people, friendly, peaceful. They certainly would not have behaved like this.

“Look, I have some ATVs you can use. I can give your brother a ride back to Humboldt in our truck. We’ll follow you. Maybe it’s time the different counties in the area pooled their resources together.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath on that,” Jessie replied. He walked out of the room and headed back to the truck.

“What is the situation like there?”

She now sounded genuinely interested.

“I hate to say it but it’s better than here but if you’re expecting some handouts, you might find yourself being turned away.”

“Why?”

“I’m not in charge. They have set up roadblocks to turn away refugees, you know, folks from other towns.” Jessie stopped at the truck. “As you can appreciate, they have a lot of mouths to feed and there is rationing, people have to help. I mean, FEMA has emergency camps north and south of the town but it’s miles from here.”

“Jump in. If he has any hope of surviving we need to get back fast.”

They didn’t waste another second. No bodies were buried. There was no time for that. Jessie gritted his teeth as he rode in the back, his mind circling between his brother and what he’d witnessed. Could the militia be responsible? The men he’d seen on the roof of the mall looked organized. Showing up with supplies after the fire seemed too convenient. And really? How many delivery trucks were on the back roads that hadn’t already been cleaned out? Something about it didn’t add up. If anyone would know more about it, it would be Colby. His connections with the Wiyot Tribe were strong, at least they were ten years ago.

On the way back, Jessie spoke to Chloe. “You can bring your family into Humboldt. I’ll vouch for you.”

“You’d do that?”

“If you’re willing to move. You tried to help. That goes a long way with our family.”

“Is there a place to stay?’

“Do you see abandoned homes here?”

She gave a nod.

“It’s the same in Humboldt.”

The few outsiders that they’d allowed in, those who needed medical treatment, or had expertise were given the home of a family that had died or moved to a FEMA camp.

In a little over a month, they had seen a huge shift of people leaving the county. It was to be expected. Relying on militia and the scraps they handed out wasn’t good. Of course, his family and the likes of the Stricklands would fare well because they had hunted in the hills for years, long before it was required.

Chloe swerved into the driveway across from the clinic.

“Matt, get Tina, grab the bags, and toss them in the back. I’ll be right back.”

“Mom. Are you sure?

“Just do it.”

The fear of Jessie had subsided as she hauled ass across the street toward the clinic. When they entered, Jessie called out to Dylan and Zeke. “Get Lincoln ready to go. We’re heading back to Humboldt.”

They didn’t reply.

He soon saw why when he entered the room.

Dylan had his head in his hands, and Zeke was holding Lincoln’s hand.

Lincoln’s face was deathly pale. Gray even. There was no movement. No writhing in pain. The world slowed at that moment as Jessie crossed the room and Zeke looked up at him. “He’s gone, Jessie. He’s dead.”

Chapter Four

Humboldt County, California

It was less an official meeting and more like a bar brawl. Strangely, the Rikers and the Stricklands weren’t at the center of it. “You sonofabitch!” A fist blindsided Dan, knocking him to the ground before more officers surged forward into a mosh pit of angry locals. The world flashed then snapped back into focus. Dan’s jaw throbbed as he looked up at the wild crowd thrashing around him. Cursing. Pulling at jackets. Among the many fists flying, two hands reached down and hauled him up. On one side it was Martha Riker, on the other, Hank Strickland.

“You okay, Dan?” Martha asked, a grin forming. “This is wild.”

“I got him,” Hank said, pulling him away from her, a scowl forming.

Dan shrugged off both of them and wiped the blood from his split lip.

“Did anyone see who did that?” he asked.

“No.”

By that point, everyone was involved.

The commotion was out of control. Chairs were being thrown, officers shoved, and locals dragged out of the room by the collar. Dan removed his service weapon and fired a single round into the air. Pop. The crack was loud, almost deafening in such a small room, but it was effective. All eyes turned.

“I will not have this kind of behavior. It stops right now. You hear me?”

Silence fell. Many retook their seats, others walked out to cool off, the rest were removed by force. What had started as an orderly meeting to discuss the changes in the county had turned into a heated exchange with locals shouting and making demands as feedback from the community rolled in.

In two weeks since the burning down of the mall, many of the residents had left, leaving behind homes, personal belongings, everything that was of no use. If