Page 13 of Against the Wind

“Yep. All set and ready to go. There’s one for you, too,” Justin announced.

“Thanks. But I’ll have access to everything, as I’m riding out the storm here.”

“Gabi, no! That’s crazy talk,” Nina insisted.

“After this morning, I feel it’s necessary. And it’s fine. This way I’ll be on-hand for any emergencies that arise.”

What had happened this morning?

“Are you even prepared for that with supplies?” Nina asked.

“I’ll get them sorted from home tonight and finish laying things in tomorrow after we set up the community center triage station.”

So now I knew where she’d be tomorrow. I filed that detail away. Maybe I’d come up with some means of damage control in the meantime.

“Now come on.” Gabi began herding all of them toward the back. “Y’all go. This is not up for debate.”

“So we’re good to go ahead and cover the front door?”

She sent me a long look over one shoulder. “Yes. We’ll lock it behind you.” Then she turned back to herding her staff.

Okay. I can work with this.

Jerking my head toward the front, I followed Tank outside to put the last cover in place.

NINE

GABI

Once everyone had gone, I attacked the supply closet like it had personally offended me, counting packages of gauze and adhesive tape with military precision. The numbers went into my spreadsheet, each click of the keyboard another barrier between me and thoughts of Daniel.

Two hundred sterile gloves. Check.

IV bags. Check.

Antibiotics inventory. Check.

A memory of his voice saying he was here for me tried to surface. I slammed the cabinet shut and moved to the next task.

The clinic’s generator needed testing. Again. I’d already checked it twice, but a third time wouldn’t hurt. The steady hum as it kicked in provided blessed white noise, drowning out the echo of his words in my head.

My phone buzzed.

Caroline

Do you need help at the clinic?

And give her the uninterrupted opportunity to try to talk me out of staying? No, thank you.

Gabi

I’ve got it handled. See you tonight.

The fewer people around right now, the better.

The equipment in each exam room needed securing. I wheeled the portable X-ray into the innermost room, farthest from the windows. The ultrasound followed. My checklist grew longer instead of shorter—each completed task spawning three more urgent needs.

Tomorrow we’d set up a triage station at the community center. I scribbled notes about supplies to transfer: basic first aid, splints, suture kits. I tried to focus on the list instead of memories of New Orleans. Of lazy Sunday mornings and plans Daniel and I had made together. Plans that implied we had a future. Of the moment he told me about the promotion that was already a done deal.

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