by Zack Finley
I added goats, pigs, rabbits, and chickens to the livestock investments. Dad always kept a few pigs and chickens, but I thought we needed to expand that part of our business. We now used a small meat processing plant in Mecklin County to supply several local groceries and restaurants. We coordinated with a farm-to-table group in a nearby county to sell most of our eggs. Our allies bought co-op shares of our farm products, allowing us to sell them milk and farm-butchered meat directly. One of the Rangers was experimenting with smoking hams and making sausages and jerky in the valley.
We converted several ponds on land we owned outside the valley into catfish farms. Just another way to increase food diversity. We were ramping up the fish population slowly so it would be at least another year before we needed to start selling them.
Our expanded meat sales covered our expenses and made a slight profit. But the primary goal was to keep the herds and flocks large, healthy, and productive.
My dad still handled most of the day-to-day farming and ranching with the influx of hired hands. Most of my guys started working there at first before branching out, but some liked it so much they stayed. My dad groused about adding goats, but they required a lot less area than milk cows. We were focusing on Nubians for meat and dairy. I brought in some fiber goats but was disappointed in the amount of yarn they produced. I suspected we’d be adding sheep down the road.
My mom and Rachel Neufeld continued experimenting with their gardens with different heirloom varieties of seeds, seeking the optimum for our climate. They planted a little bit of every variety we were considering from peanuts to peppers. Rachel was a new biointensive farming convert. She started as a skeptic until she saw how much more food my mom grew. They put up row covers and a new greenhouse to determine how much food they could produce year-round. I knew my mom was thrilled to finally have someone as interested in growing food as she was.
I asked Jacob Neufeld to experiment with wheat varieties. While biointensive would work for vegetables, I felt the field crops like wheat and corn would do better using Mennonite growing practices. We acquired a variety of hand tools aimed at cutting, threshing, and milling grains. We now possessed an abundant supply of burlap bags too. And a bunch of hemp seeds to make future ropes and bags.
Worrying about burlap bags made us consider the future need for leather products. Guys were trying out both bark and brain tanning techniques, to make sure we had the tools and understanding should they be needed. We knew we couldn’t rely on chemical-based methods. Many preferred tanning techniques relied on cheap readily available materials in today’s society. In a doomsday scenario, we couldn’t afford to waste five pounds of salt just to dry one hide.
When the guys started off, they ruined about half the hides. Now there was a large batch of semi-tanned cowhides soaking in oak bark tanning solution. They keep assuring me the fermented smells and black scum on the surface of the vat were all normal. It caused me to purchase and store a stack of tanned hides, just in case.
We acquired a fleet of electric powered dirt bikes and motorcycles and enough deployable solar-powered chargers for each. Our solar company sponsored a contest to design chargers that could be carried in a backpack but expandable to collect enough energy to charge a motorcycle battery. We got several exciting designs and happily paid for them. The one I liked best used wearable solar collectors which partially recharged the bike as you drove. Wearing it on a sunny day extended the range by nearly one-third. You still needed to stop and deploy the solar tarp to recharge the battery completely, but I liked the versatility.
I felt good about our preparations and about how well our new guys fit into rural Tennessee. With sufficient help, I came to believe we could feed anyone in Mecklin County who survived the first six months.
We stored enough food to feed our allies until a new cycle of crops started coming in. After we bumped up our beef, goat, pig, and chicken production, we were in pretty good shape. We maintained nearly a year’s supply of feed and hay to give us time to grow our own.
Most folks in Mecklin County kept more food and basic supplies on hand than people in the city. No one wanted to drive into town more than a few times a week. Lots of my neighbors kept gardens and livestock. There were fish in the rivers and lakes. Most people knew how to hunt.
I wouldn’t mind helping my neighbors, I just didn’t want to be overwhelmed. If we could keep refugees from swamping us, we stood a chance. I was hoping to work with Sheriff Lewis and Major Thomas, the local, national guard commander, to keep the peace. They were both good men, as long as you didn’t talk about end of civilization scenarios.
No, I hadn’t joined my grandpa in thinking the end was near. To me, it was still an exercise. One of those military plans kept on the shelf with frequent updates. We held monthly drills and weekly meetings. I practiced my marksmanship. But I really didn’t believe.
Until I got the call out of the blue from Jules on October 11 after the kids went to bed.
“Hey buddy, I have a problem I need your help with,” Jules said, sending an icy cold jolt through my system. Even 20 years later I still remembered our secret code. “My mom has a doctor’s appointment next Monday, and my sister can’t take her. It is critical. Can you drive her there?”
“Let me write this down. That’s October 15th, right?” I asked.
“No, it's October 16th at 10:30 a.m.,” Jules responded.
“Isn’t that a Tuesday?” I asked.
“You are right, I got the day of the week wrong. She’s going a little senile, so she is anxious about missing her appointment. Thanks for helping me out. I sure appreciate it. Got to go, I’ll call later when I can talk.” With that Jules was gone.
Jules’ mom was no more senile than I was. She could still drive herself to any doctor’s appointment. If it was critical, I knew Roger would drive her.
Jules was telling me something terrible was going to happen three days from now on the evening of Oct. 14. Since he was still working at the solar think tank in Berkeley, I instantly thought about CME. I pulled up the NASA solar weather app on my cell phone. It was down for maintenance. Now I was really worried.
I called Sally immediately. She was our solar weather expert, responsible for monitoring a variety of solar sites. She told me the official U.S. site went down about two hours earlier. Internet scuttlebutt said it was hacked and down for several days for repairs. The European site was also knocked down by hackers. She’d sent my dad a text message about the outage. She noted nothing before the outage indicating we were moving into a period of problematic solar activity.
What were the odds I’d get an advance alert from Jules at the same time the solar weather site was down for maintenance? I wasn’t a big conspiracy buff, but I feared it was no coincidence.
I told her I believed it might be a coverup. That got her full attention. She promised to check several other resources and get back to me.
I then called my dad to relay the news. He hung up abruptly to send a text to all active members inviting them to a party on Sunday, October 14. This also triggered an immediate command team meeting. I knew he’d call Roger after sending out the texts.
I feared we would never hear from Jules again. If Jules was using the code, he thought his phone was being monitored.
I left the girls a note on the kitchen table and jogged to my dad’s house. We had a lot to do. To me prepping was a therapeutic exercise, not a for-real mission. Now it turned deadly real. I felt numb. Was it weird that I was relieved it was only CME bringing our civilization to its knees and not nuclear war?
There was a lot to do to take advantage of this warning we never expected to have. We needed to act swiftly to counter any moves the government was likely to make.
I knew my dad already called for three rental tanker trucks to bring in loads of diesel from Nashville and Knoxville. If it were a false alarm, we’d own a shitload of diesel with nowhere to store it. If Jules was right, we’d have a shitload of diesel, plus three tanker trucks
at our disposal, and be able to operate our heavy equipment at least one more year.
Depending on how fast the government moved to secure fuel supplies we might not be able to fill up, but I was expecting it to take them a little time to gear up.
My mom already contacted our usual fuel supplier at home and requested an emergency fill-up before the weekend. The supplier was enough in the know I suspected he ordered his own backfill after hanging up with my mom.
I’d probably be calling our feed supplier and arrange for all the hay we could get and as much grain as we could store. We’d be canceling this week’s deliveries of meat, eggs, and dairy.
Steve and Mandy would cancel all solar installations and be working their suppliers for parts.
After the command meeting, Dr. Jerrod would be writing a ton of prescriptions for antibiotics, pain meds and a host of other drugs on her list. Dad paid the owner of the pharmacy extra to maintain a large inventory of these drugs. We’d pull his stock down substantially. We kept about the same quantity stored in the valley, but this would give us twice that. Most drugs retain much of their potency for at least 15 years past their use-by date.
I was glad we bought Dr. Jerrod a surplus portable hospital, which my dad got cheap from FEMA surplus. We stored it in one of the EMP shielded equipment storage containers. It was good as new once we cleaned, sterilized and restocked it. It was a small surgical suite that Dr. Jerrod didn’t think was ever used. It had an X-ray machine, and the rest of the equipment Dr. Jerrod felt was needed for a field hospital. Not as good as Mecklin General Hospital but much more secure.
I was wondering if we should rent a few box trucks for the week and visit Sam’s Clubs in Knoxville to buy some last-minute items like flour, batteries, tools, socks, towels, and tarps. Jimmie was ordering extra ammo for the gun store. We might need to rent a box truck to get it in time.
My brain was exploding with thoughts, and I was struggling to focus. I knew I’d forget something. It was one thing to put together a plan you never expected to put into play. It was another very different thing to face disaster in the face.
When I entered my parents’ home, I was surprised at the low-key discussions going on. No one seemed excited. Everyone was talking calmly just like every other weekly command meeting. My mom made a big pot of coffee, and someone pulled out the chalkboard. For the first time ever, The Plan was sitting on the dining room table.
Roger and my dad were reviewing the CME checklist when I arrived.
“Your mom just ordered three fuel trucks,” my dad said looking up when I joined them. “If Jules is right, we’ll keep those extra fuel trucks. She also called Huntsville Fuels for an emergency fill of all tanks for tomorrow afternoon. I think all the heavy equipment is topped off, but we’ll want to confirm that. Everyone’s personal vehicles should fill up in the morning before the delivery.”
My mom was listing items on the chalkboard. She checked the ordered boxes for the fuel items. Nothing was crossed off yet, except send out an alert.
As she listed the items from the checklist, I felt a calm wash over me. I sat at the table and begin writing down ideas that came to me, some were already on the checklist, others were just ideas. Fuel first, I knew that was our most limiting resource. It was also probably on some government list as well. We were competing with them to get our fuel. I reminded myself the new shipments were just gravy. We had enough fuel to supply us for two years on site. Anything we got now was on top of a solid base.
We methodically went through the checklist. As more of the command team arrived, the tasks were distributed. We got a briefing from Sally. Her sources were clueless about why the solar weather sites were down. She did not detect any alarm on their part. Even several prepper sites didn’t seem to be reacting to the outages. She was now monitoring ham radio chatter as well. No one seemed alarmed but us.
To me, that meant we probably had a day to act before other groups began to react. Friday was a regular school day. After some debate, we decided to send the kids to school.
Steve and crew would go to Nashville with our 18-wheeler and buy out the solar warehouses there. Mandy would reschedule all of Friday’s installations for next week.
Hay and feed orders would go out first thing in the morning. I was taking a crew to the closest two Sam’s Clubs outside Knoxville and buying anything that struck me as appropriate. Tonight, I’d go on Amazon and order a bunch of items, with next day delivery.
Dr. Jerrod would start her day at the pharmacy with all of her scripts. One of the allies was designated to pick them all up and bring them to the valley.
Dad planned to visit Sheriff Lewis and Major Thomas to suggest they fill up their tanks. He was going to wait until the afternoon to see them. He would suggest they unplug their electronics for the weekend. While I doubted either man would take the warning seriously, they might consider these small steps. It would make a big difference, later. If the CME did as expected, they would remember we tried to warn them.
We knew our actions would precipitate a low-level reaction around the county. I suspected the local market would sell out of bread and milk. When cell phones and anything reliant on satellites become problematic, I suspected full-fledged panic to set in. By then it would be cash only business because ATMs and credit card readers would be sporadic.
What do you buy on your last trip to Amazon? I bought many sets of kitchen knives, stacks of scissors, camping chairs, pain relievers and ointments, vasoline, vitamins, herbs and spices, soaps, detergents, rubber gloves, cloth diapers, ball caps, jackets, rubber boots, rain gear, duct tape, epoxy and glues, chisels, adzes, draw knives, rasps, brace and bits, augers, a variety of multitools, headlamps, rechargeable batteries, gallons of Neat’s foot oil, extra tactical knives, axes, files, rolls and rolls of black plastic, tarps, bolts of fabric, needles, crochet hooks, knitting needles, thread, bandaids, EMT toolkits, battle dressings, quick clot gauze bandages, gunshot trauma kits, binoculars, rechargeable spotlights…
You get the idea. While I ordered everything next day delivery, whether it would arrive by Saturday was a big question. By Sunday it might be too late. I just wished I did this a few weeks before. Shopping at Sam’s Club in the morning would help, also. Everyone was emailing me lists of things to get. It was going to be one wild day.
I reserved two box trucks for a week at a U Haul place on the west side of Knoxville to pick up in the morning. I doubted we’d get more than one visit to Sam’s Club before the day ended. We might come back first thing tomorrow, but that depended on the situation. We might have higher priorities.
I texted my dad and said someone should visit the Tractor Supply in Oneida or better yet in Jamestown and buy a lot of fencing material, some stock tanks and other containers plus anything else he could think of.
They were open late. A pickup and flatbed trailer could hold a lot of stuff. I told him I could go after I got back from Sam’s Club. I knew we had a dependable supply of vet supplies, but more wouldn’t hurt.
My dad texted back and told me to plan to go. He’d try to get me a list. We agreed going to Jamestown was worth it to leave Oneida untapped for now.
Tomorrow was going to be a tough day. I suspected it was going to be more comfortable on those of us with assignments, for the rest going about business, as usual, would be difficult. Everyone without a current assignment was reporting to the valley as soon as they got off work.
I felt like my eyes barely closed when the alarm woke me. I’d expected to toss and turn, but sheer exhaustion knocked me out cold. I left before the girls got up, so I posted a note, telling them if they needed help to call my mom. They would inherit one messed up world.
Craig and I picked up Tom and Pete for the drive to Knoxville. Craig would drive my pickup and Tom, and I’d drive the box trucks back. Pete and Craig would help load the purchases. I brought the farm credit cards for both Tom and I. There were two Sam’s Clubs on this side of Knoxville, so we would split up.
I told Tom
that I intended to talk with someone in the store management before I started on my buying spree, to facilitate the purchases. The cover story was we were having to accommodate a huge hunting party at the ranch and needed a lot of supplies all of a sudden. It wasn’t a great alibi, but it was all I could come up with at the last minute.
Craig drove so I could consolidate all the lists received from everyone. It took much of the drive to weed out duplicates and make some sense of the lists. I added my own brainstorm items, including coffee. I convinced myself that coffee’s caffeine made it a necessity.
I was still working on the final list when we pulled into the U Haul place. I texted my list to Tom. We agreed we’d both buy from the same list. I wasn’t worried about buying too much stuff.
Today we weren’t even worried about shelf life.
We should have brought more help. My store manager was accommodating, allowing us to park in the loading zone. He assigned a series of helpers. Once one big cart was stacked high, they parked it in front of an empty checkout stand. After they had a backlog of four carts, they began processing them. Craig stayed with them for a few minutes but loading the box truck was more difficult than I expected, even with the ramp.