by N. C. Reed
“The soldiers came back, Mamma,” Helena Greer called from the window. She was a year older than Quentin's seven years and thus more mature, at least in her own eyes. Dottie had described her daughter more than once as 'eight going on thirty'.
“Both of you stay out of sight,” Dottie ordered. “We don't know if it's the same people, so stay out of sight until we know for sure.”
The two children had long since lost the rebellious attitude they had possessed before the lights went out and immediately did as they were told. Dottie watched them go, then turned back to the door. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she opened the door, hoping this really was the same soldier she had spoken to before, or at least some of his friends.
She also prayed silently that they weren't here for anything bad.
***
“Ma'am,” Shane spoke calmly as Dottie opened the door. “I'm assuming you remember us?” he smiled. Shane wasn't wearing his mask, since if she agreed to come to the cook out she would see them all anyway.
“I didn't recognize you without the skull,” Dottie smiled slightly.
“Probably improves my looks,” Shane nodded, chuckling. “Ma'am, we're having a cookout today, and I wanted to invite you and your children to come with us. You can bring what you need to stay the night if you'd like, or we’ll bring you home as soon as you want, it's up to you. There are other kids in the same age group as yours there, and there will be games and food and as close to a good time like the old days as we can get, all things considered. I think you'd enjoy it, but ultimately it's up to you. Would you like to make the trip?”
“A cook out?” Dottie temporized, her mind racing. Other children? Games? Food and fun? Her children would be in heaven with that.
“Yes ma'am,” Shane nodded.
“Where . . . how far a trip are we talking about?” she asked, curious. “How far away is it?” While she wanted desperately to trust him, she couldn't quite do it. Not yet.
“Have you heard of the Sanders family, ma'am?” Shane asked.
“Of course,” she nodded at once. “They own a big ranch not far from here. Are you saying you're a Sanders?” she asked suspiciously.
“No ma'am,” Shane shook his head. “But we do live there and work from there. The Sanders' youngest son was my commanding officer in the Army. The Sanders have been working since the lights went out to try and help as many people as they could. Even built an orphanage on their farm for children who lost their parents. The beef we gave you when we were here before came from their herd.”
She wanted even more to trust him now, but . . . to take her children and pile into a vehicle with men she didn't know? That seemed like she would just be asking for trouble. Even as she thought that she saw the door to the heavy looking vehicle open and a slender figure step down. She watched as the driver removed his helmet and mask, shaking out his . . . her, long hair, she corrected, stunned.
The driver was a young woman. Wearing the same outfit as the others and obviously one of them, but a woman, nevertheless. Shane saw the look on her face and turned to see what she was looking at.
“That's Sienna,” he said, turning back to Dottie. “She came with me today and drove. She used to be an MP in the Army.” Dottie realized her mouth was hanging open at the sight and snapped it shut abruptly.
“I didn't realize you had women in your outfit the other day,” she told him.
“She wasn't with us that day,” Shane admitted. “We were just scouting and giving out supplies. Sienna has been working in Jordan to train people to be peace officers. She was able to come with me today since she wasn't in Jordan. She and I have ridden many a mile together.”
Dottie was smart enough to know that the presence of a woman soldier was not an accident, happy or otherwise. Her presence was intended to put Dottie at ease. Now, Dottie had to decide if she was going to let it.
“We . . . I haven't done any laundry of late,” she admitted, embarrassed. “It's difficult to do these days and I was busy with my garden and other things.”
“No problem,” Shane nodded. “Bring your laundry. We have a small laundry room available at the farm. It runs off solar power and a small generator. Won't last forever but for now it works. Bring your clothing and wash it while you enjoy the cookout. You can spend the night and take a look at the farm.”
“I . . . I'd probably be jealous,” Dottie admitted. “Seeing all that. And then have to come home,” she laughed lightly.
“Well, funny you should mention that,” Shane said.
***
Dottie and her children sat in the passenger compartment of the large vehicle, their clothing in bags on the floor around them. The kids were excited and talking a mile a minute while she herself was preoccupied with looking at the countryside as they passed, taking note of the damage by the fire and from other sources.
Even as she looked, however, she kept replaying her conversation with Shane Golden in her mind. A chance to live on the Sanders' farm. A school for her children again with a real teacher. Other children their age to play and interact with. Relief from the crushing loneliness of being so isolated with no one around to speak to, or get help from in an emergency.
A doctor. Another godsend right there. A clinic with a real doctor and nurse. A Nurse Practitioner as well, since Patricia Sanders would be there. Safety and security for her children and herself.
When she had asked Shane why he thought of her for something so wonderful, he had just shrugged and said anyone who could do what she had done would have to be a good addition to their operation. That she deserved the offer after all her hard work in keeping herself and her children well through such hard times.
And now, here she was, on her way to see where the people who had helped her had come from. She hadn't imagined just two hours ago when she woke that she might be traveling anywhere for any reason.
It was almost . . . normal.
***
“We should call this the procession of the cow,” Clay decided as a dozen different people walked toward the row of tables bearing large platters of still steaming beef.
“How about we call it lunch and just eat!” Gordy exclaimed, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. It was not to be however, as his grandfather stood near the head of the tables and raised a hand, calling for quiet and for everyone's attention.
“We began this not long ago in an effort to make sure that all of us were included in things,” he said. “We wanted to foster good fellowship among ourselves, to be sure we were being good neighbors, and to encourage not just fellowship but outright friendship as well. To draw us together into one community. A unified, solidified group of people dedicated to surviving in this new time we find ourselves in.
“Some might say after the events of the last few days that we failed in that,” he continued, looking around him and trying to catch everyone at least once with his gaze. “It's true that we've had more than our share of problems it seems, but yet, here we are. Despite everything, we are still here. Yes, we've lost some people. Neighbors, family, dear friends. Some lost to the violence that has swept our lands, some lost to injury, some to their own hands, and a few by decisions of their own making. Friendly fire. Friendly fire, yet no less painful in its application. We all hurt over our losses.
“It is true we’ll miss them. Miss them all,” he was looking at the Webbs as he said that. “All of them had a place here and were instrumental in our being able to move forward. But we will adapt and we will continue to survive.
“We've also had new people come into our midst,” he now looked at Shane Golden, most of the people who had come with him seated in a line running down the table from his seat. “People that we have been able to get to know, people that we can see are contributing to our survival and their own, in some cases even more so or better than those who have left us. Hard working and willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done,” he raised a glass in their direction as a smattering of applause rolled down
the rest of the table.
“There will not, no, there cannot be a difference made between new and old. We are all either in this together, or we may as well quit. Hang together or separately as I believe Ben Franklin once said. Sounds good anyway,” he grinned to the laughter that came his way.
“Put aside any differences you have with your neighbor,” Gordon concluded. “Put aside old attitudes that can no longer be sustained if we're to flourish and have any kind of decent life for ourselves, let alone for our kids. This is where we are. We can't change the circumstances we find ourselves in, which means we have to change to conform to them. We have to change, to condition ourselves to meet the new challenges that this kind of life is going to present.” He paused, once more scanning the entire crowd with his gaze.
“And we cannot do that if we're constantly at each other’s throats,” he finished. “So please. Use this time, this day and occasion as it was intended and get to know someone you don't already know. Develop new friendships, strengthen old ones, enjoy this day that the Lord has made and the people he has given us to fellowship with. Please bow with me and let us give thanks.”
***
Dottie Greer felt better than she had in months.
She had arrived at the farms not knowing what to expect and was shocked at everything she saw. Buildings everywhere, people everywhere, children running and playing and laughing, people on guard, dogs protecting everyone and everything . . . it was as if nothing had happened here.
Once she began to see the place up close it was evident that the farm had been affected of course, just as the rest of the world had. Power was still available but was rationed. Vehicles still operated but were used sparingly. She had been taken to the second floor of the middle building and showed a functioning shower, complete with hot water. Their clothing was laundered while she tended her children's hygiene and then her own, delighting in the small offerings from the other women who had brought her those small things to help her feel better.
Now, herself and her children were clean and shining for the first time in too long, dressed in fresh smelling clean clothes that hadn't had to be scrubbed by hand, and facing a table loaded with good food. There was nothing fancy, but it was cooked to perfection. They even had bread!
Wouldn't it be wonderful if she could bring her children to this small haven of safety?
***
“Well, I do sometimes use pressure canning. In fact, I have two pressure canners I inherited. But I also use water bath as well. For some things it seems as if it works better and lasts longer.”
“Well, my grandmother talked about using sorghum molasses as a sweetener when she was a girl, during World War Two. Sugar was rationed back then she said. Of course everything else was as well. Honey can also work, but you have to be careful of what the bees are feeding on, and also not to over sweeten. It's a delicate balance.”
“Dehydration is one of the best things I've found to preserve food long term, especially fruit. If done properly you can store things in something as simple as a plastic container. Even something like an ice cream bucket!”
Dottie felt as if she were being tested in some way. Several of the women had descended on her after lunch was more or less finished, asking her about canning, gardening, dehydration and on, and on. She didn't mind it, really, relishing the chance to talk to them after so long alone save for her children. She could for that one day pretend that all was well and normal in the world.
She loved it.
***
It was before the evening meal, made of leftovers, that Clayton Sanders had approached her. She was slightly wary of him for a number of reasons, not least of which was the fact that she knew for a fact that he had killed a man at Lorrie's Diner the year before. She told herself that was both silly and unfair. It was likely that any of the soldiers living at the farm had killed another man at some point. It was the fact that it had happened at home, so to speak, that made the niggling in her mind stay there.
Another reason was that his man was effectively in charge of everything that was going on. It was on his order that Shane Golden and his team had visited her home and gifted herself and her children with some of the best eating they had enjoyed in recent months. He was the one sending people to Jordan to train a new police force and emergency medical personnel.
All of that made her want to make a good impression on him. Even isolated as she was, it would be wonderful knowing that other people were around and there might be someone to call on for help in a dire emergency.
“Mrs. Greer,” Clay offered his hand. “It's nice to meet you. I've heard many good things about you today. Shane had good things to say as well. You impressed him it seems. Not easy to do.”
Dottie blushed at the compliment, caught off guard by Clay's simple approach and manners. She had expected him to be rougher around the edges.
“Thank you,” she replied. “It's a pleasure to meet you as well. Thank you so much for your help, and for inviting myself and my children to spend this wonderful day with you. I cannot possibly thank you enough!”
“Well, let’s talk about that.”
***
“I'm glad you're down here for supper,” Abby told Jody quietly as the two of them sat a little separate from the others.
“I have enjoyed it,” he nodded, speaking just as softly.
“I’ll have to thank Heath for taking over for you,” Abby grinned. “Especially considering that he and Leanne seemed to have gotten together last night at Deuce's Place,” she laughed. “Poor thing.”
“Heath, or Leanne?” Jody asked in a rare bit of amusement.
“Either. Both,” Abby laughed again. “I thought Leanne was going to become a statue, and Heath was so painfully shy I didn't know if he'd get the words out or not.”
“Good for them,” Jody nodded. “I believe they will be good for one another. It's good to have someone to share burdens with. To share joys with as well. Happiness is born a twin my grandmother told me when I was a child. It is up to us to search that twin out.”
“That's beautiful,” Abby repeated the phrase softly. “I have to write that down when I get home.”
“I will tell you again, should you forget,” Jody smiled ever so slightly, prompting Abby to smile back even as her face pinked a bit.
“Thank you.”
***
“Have you thought about what you’ll do?” Shane asked Dottie Greer as they helped clear away dishes and trash once the evening meal was over. She paused, looking at him.
“Shane, you do know that I 'm married, right?” she asked him carefully.
“Uh, yeah,” Shane frowned a little. “You think you need to stay home so your husband can find you? That would make sense. I hadn't thought about that.”
Dottie almost frowned herself at his reply but suppressed it before it could show. Had she misread Shane's intention somehow?
“I meant . . . it seems like this is really important to you. That I move here, I mean,” she clarified.
“Well, no,” Shane admitted to her carefully. “I mean, sure, if you're interested in whatever Clay offered you then that's awesome. I . . . I just thought that after all that time alone, just you and your children, you might want the chance to be part of even a small community again. You worked hard to get your family this far on your own. I felt like you deserved a chance like this. But I mean, only if you want it,” he hastened to add, afraid he had somehow overstepped his bounds.
“For God's sake, Shane,” Trudy Leighton burst into the conversation. “Can you not see that she's worried you're trying to hit on her? Give him a minute or two to catch up,” she told a red-faced Dottie. “He's always been just a tad slow. My uncle dropped him a lot when he was small, so that may-,”
“Dammit, Trudy, did anyone ask you to stick your over-sized nose anywhere in this conversation?” Shane fumed.
“Just trying to help the handicapped,” Trudy raised her hands in supplication as she backed away. “My ba
d.” She turned and departed, clearly happy with her work. Shane grumbled as she went, watching her for a minute before turning back to Dottie.
“I'm sorry about that,” he told her. “She's always saying inappropriate shi-, er . . . stuff, like that.”
“Well, in this case she was right,” Dottie admitted. “I am worried that was what this is.”
“Uh . . . no,” Shane shook his head. “Not that you aren't very nice and all, but . . . I did know you were married and, uh . . . well, there's someone else I'm trying very hard to talk to, so . . . no.” By the time he'd finished stammering out his answer Dottie was laughing.
“I'm sorry, Shane,” she told him. “So much miscommunication. I just . . . I was wrong, that's all.”
“Well, that's cool,” Shane shrugged. “But no, it's not like that. Just . . . trying to help someone I thought deserved it. That's all.”
“I sincerely appreciate that,” Dottie nodded. “So let me ask you something . . . ”
***
“So kiddos, have you had a good day today?” Dottie asked as she settled her two children in for the night in an empty room in building two.
“Yeah!” both replied in unison.
“So let me ask you something, then,” she knelt down beside them. “Would you like to come live here? Leave our house and come stay here all the time?”
They looked at her in silence for so long that she was beginning to think they hadn't understood that she was asking them for their opinion. Just as she was about to ask again, Quentin spoke.
“Can I bring my Legos?”
“Yes, buddy,” she laughed just a little. “You can bring you blocks.”
“What about my stuffed animals?” Helena asked next, worried looking.
“I would imagine we will bring everything here and stay,” she told them.
“What about our garden and stuff?” Quentin asked.
“Well, there's a big garden here, but we would probably go and gather from that garden as well,” Dottie replied, though she didn't know how practical that would end up being. “You guys think about it tonight and we’ll talk about it again tomorrow, okay?”