Mom interrupted. “We don’t have time. People are choking the communications networks. The call could drop out any time. Just…stay safe, chickie. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mom.”
“Be strong.” She hung up.
I stared at the phone, and called Dad. It took five tries, but a miracle happened and we connected.
“Amy! I’m so sorry I’m not even on the same damn continent, and they’ve grounded the planes. I should have come home earlier. I should have…I should have told you more often. I love you, honey.”
It only took the end of days for my parents to tell me they loved me.
My lips trembled, but I wouldn’t cry. “I love you, Dad.”
He sniffed. “Are you safe, Amy? You do whatever you have to to survive. I’m going to try to get home—”
“I’m in Pennsylvania, Dad. Apfall Hill.”
“I looked it up on a map. I know where you are.” Now, he sounded more like my dad: impatient.
Our call disconnected.
I could have tried to redial, but we’d had our miracle. Other people needed the network to connect with their loved ones.
I returned to the kitchen table, to my abandoned pancakes and to the faces turned my way. “I spoke to my parents. They’re in LA and Europe. They’re okay and they know I’m here.” It was as good as things were going to get in our crazy world.
“You’ve got us,” Jarod said.
Craig raised an eyebrow.
Mike nodded. “Family by adoption.”
And that was that. My family increased by two grieving men.
“At least you can cook,” Craig said.
He and Mike returned to town and Mike’s garage.
“If power tools are going to stop working, we need to prioritize,” Digger said. “The oak tree nearest the house needs to come down. If a storm uproots it, the house is toast. Cutting it down and into manageable logs will be much easier with chainsaws.”
Stella bit her lip, obviously holding back a protest. That the tree had been allowed to encroach on the house meant it had meaning to her. But she nodded. “There are other oaks whose acorns can feed the pigs. Jarod, you know the trees out front, the chestnuts and walnuts. They’re important for our food supply, so if they need pruning, go carefully. I replaced the chestnut trees with blight resistant ones twenty years ago. We still need to watch for any signs of the fungus.”
Digger and Jarod stood, less interested in fungal inspection than in getting going.
“Help them, Amy. I’ll do the dishes and be responsible for an afternoon snack and dinner.”
The oak tree was a monster and while Jarod demonstrated that he really didn’t fear heights, scampering around its branches like a squirrel, I held ropes as ordered, while Jarod and Digger pruned away branches that might damage the house when the tree fell.
Our efforts were interrupted at midday by the arrival of the feed and hay bales I’d bought yesterday. “After the dragon’s announcement, I thought the delivery mightn’t happen,” I said to Digger as we unloaded the truck.
Digger eyed the farmer who was carrying a sack of feed into the barn. “People are realizing we need one another to survive.”
The farmer didn’t linger. He had other deliveries to make as well as the work piling up back at the farm.
We returned to the oak tree.
“I’ve got this.” Jarod did the final cut while Digger and I pulled on ropes to ensure the giant tree fell away from the house and missed valuable nut trees. The ground shook as the tree landed.
I sat down. I wasn’t suited to lumber work. The danger involved in it scared me. I’d been afraid for Jarod the whole time he scampered around.
“We’ll have a break,” Digger said. “Before we cut this up and drag the logs to where they can season over winter.” Green, that is, freshly cut wood, wasn’t good for burning. He was pushing the tempo because as well as wanting to use the chainsaws to cut up the logs, he aimed to use the trucks to drag them. “Jarod and I will do that. Amy, see what help you can give Stella.”
“Okay.” I guessed that he’d seen how my arms were trembling. I’d thought I was fit, but I lacked the men’s strength.
Jarod glanced at me, then. He’d been in his own world and uncharacteristically quiet all day. He was grieving as he worked. Now, he put an arm around my shoulders. He smelled of sweat, but so did I. He still didn’t speak.
The camaraderie felt good.
We guzzled orange cordial and ate apple pie. “I had two frozen,” Stella said. “I’m using up what’s in the freezer. We can drain it then and clean it out. Even without electricity, it’ll make a good store box. It’s old and has rubber seals. I hope.”
In ordinary life, you never think about how much plastic surrounds you. But the dragon’s warning that plastic would vanish meant we needed to be prepared or we would lose more than the plastic. With containers, the food inside could spill and spoil. Other things like ointment, shampoo and toothpaste would also need to be decanted into clean glass jars.
“I’ve been on the phone.” Stella cut a narrow slice of pie for herself.
The hot coffee was as heavenly as the pie. If the world fell apart, coffee might be one of the things we lost. For the moment, people like Stella were trying to keep the world together.
“Ramona is opening the camp for families with children. Jake is plowing the field there. They’re going to farm it. Mike is part of the town council coordinating our emergency efforts. We need to be sure we can feed and protect everyone.” Stella sipped her coffee. “Mike and Craig are going to join us, here. We’ll be a base for patrols protecting the town.”
Mike, Craig, Jarod, Digger and me. If we patrolled in pairs, that left at least two able-bodied people at the homestead to protect it at all times. Plus, Mike would bring his two dogs.
The question was where would we all sleep. Summer was simple enough, but in winter…I considered a Pennsylvanian winter without central heating or electric blankets. “Jarod, how would you feel about sharing a bed permanently?”
Digger and Stella blinked.
Jarod smiled for the first time since he’d learned of his brother’s death. “Yes. You don’t snore or kick, and the alternative is sharing a room with Craig. I’ll happily share your bed.”
“Well, I’ll be…” Stella took a deep breath. “All right. Before we decide where everyone else goes, I’m considering adding another two people to the household. Thanks to the windmill pump we’re one of the few homes that will continue to have running water. Add in our food supply and people capable of defending it, and people want to join us. I’ve said no to a number of my oldest friends.”
“Oh Stella,” I said.
Jarod clasped her hand.
She met our sympathetic gazes bravely. “It’s not fair to burden you all with any more deadweight. I’m enough for you to carry.”
“You’re not deadweight,” I said.
Jarod’s protest was more poignant. “We need you, Stella. I need you.” He kissed her hand with its parchment-thin skin and swollen arthritic knuckles.
“Who do you want to bring in?” Digger asked as he ate a second slice of pie.
“Heather from the beauty parlor. She’s a practical girl, brought up—”
Digger broke in. “She has a kid.”
“Charlie. He’s nine.”
“No,” Digger said. “Let them go to Ramona or stay in town and garden their yard. But we…this homestead is one of the perimeter defenses for the town.”
“Fort Farm,” Jarod said.
Digger nodded. “Whatever happens out here, we can’t be distracted by trying to protect a kid, or by trying to hide from him the realities of what that defense might cost.” Injury and death. “If you want another woman in the household, I agree. But not a kid. And it doesn’t have to be a woman from town. Refugees from other areas will find us. We can choose decent people from among them to join us.”
I shivered. To imagine millions
of Americans becoming refugees in our own country was horrifying. Even worse was to think of the many, many more whom the dragon had said wouldn’t survive.
That was why Digger was being so harsh. We were entering a situation that had no precedent in human history. Magic was real. Our struggle for survival would be intense.
“All right,” Stella conceded. “I haven’t spoken to Heather. I won’t, now.”
“I’m sorry, Stella.” Digger might have been sympathetic, but he was unbending. “It’s painful to accept that we can’t help everyone, and worst of all for you because these are lifelong friends.”
Jarod ducked his head. He had grown up here, too. He would also have to refuse friends help and refuge.
Digger pushed Jarod’s shoulder. “Let’s get that tree stacked away.”
As they walked out, I took our dirty dishes to the sink.
“Leave them,” Stella said tiredly.
I hesitated. “I will this once. There were steel feed bins in the shed Jarod and I cleared out. I’d like to clean them and any more I can find. The sooner they’re clean and fully dried out the sooner we can put the feed, grains, and dog food into them.” I worried because too much of our supplies were in plastic bags. “Are there any frozen meals we can heat up for dinner?”
“Pizza,” she said. “Don’t worry. I’m fine. Go. Do the bins. You’re right. They’re needed.”
I found a radio in the barn and turned it up loud enough that I could hear it as I scrubbed the feed bins on a grassy patch by the sheds. Usually, I’d have listened to music, but this time I found a station that was broadcasting useful advice. Toothbrushes could be made from birch twigs. I hadn’t even considered that no plastic meant no toothbrushes.
Mike and Craig arrived in separate trucks, both overflowing with equipment and supplies, and with two big dogs. The dogs accepted Mike’s introduction of me as a friend. Perhaps they simply copied Tabby’s casual attitude. The bigger of the two, a massive gray beast called Skull, returned from investigating his new home and meeting Digger and Stella, to settle in the sun near me and supervise.
“You’ve made a new friend.” There was no warmth in Mike’s voice, but he was trying to function despite his grief.
I smiled. “I like him.” He was a handsome gray mastiff.
“Loyal as hell,” Mike said. The other men strode up then, and he went to meet them. They manhandled a cast iron stove from the truck and into the barn. A short while later, Mike had a welder set up and was hard at work.
Craig carried everything else in. He paused near me to have a drink. “Dad’s going to get a few things set up while the welder still works. Having heating in here will mean we can use the barn in winter. It’ll be important to have somewhere to work in, and to get out of the house.”
It also meant that the barn could be used for defensive patrols to gather without disturbing Stella or anyone else in the house.
He recapped his water bottle. “I spotted the tiller. It’ll be slower than a tractor plow, but I’ll turn over the side yard. I can’t say I’m a fan of bean stew, but it’s filling. Beans and corn.” He walked away. “And more potatoes.”
By the time I upended the last feed bin to drain, every muscle in my body hated me.
“Looks like it’ll rain, tonight,” Jarod said.
I groaned. There were so many bins, all standing outside to dry. I did not want to carry them into the barn.
Skull nudged me sympathetically, and I stumbled over and into Jarod.
“We’ll get the bins in,” Digger said.
Craig rode the tiller, which was kind of like a riding mower, into the barn and turned it off. Life would be strange when there was no more engine noise.
“Help her to the house, Skull,” Jarod said.
I thought about helping to put away the feed bins, but the truth was, I was done. There had been nearly two dozen of them, and a couple had required hard scrubbing. Stella’s husband must have been a bit of a bin collector. Another half dozen I’d discarded as rusted out or otherwise broken. If Mike had time before the electricity vanished, he might be able to repair them.
Skull stopped at the kitchen door and sat beside Tabby in the porch. The third dog, Brutus, stayed at the barn.
Stella had pizzas staying warm in the oven, but she’d also made a big pot of venison stew, using deer meat from the freezer.
I ate till I was stuffed, then fitted in ice cream, before crawling up the stairs to a hot shower and into bed. My arms had been too sore to even think of washing my hair, so I didn’t make the pillow wet. I was out like a light, and didn’t notice Jarod come to bed. If there’d been any comment from his family on him and me choosing to share a bed, I never heard about it.
The work was relentless. When the internet died, I never noticed. I was probably in the garden or else pegging blankets on the line. With the threat of losing modern conveniences hanging over us, I was using the washing machine to its limit. Anything that could be washed, dried and put away for use later was. Stella had bought lavender sachets in Appletonia and I tucked them in the linen cupboards and armoires. Blankets, sheets, towels and old clothes were rescued from the attic and refreshed.
Jarod and Craig went hunting and bagged a feral pig. They butchered it and smoked what they could. We ate pork for a couple of days, and Angus from next door joined us for dinner along with the family from town that had moved in with him. The parents were teachers at the elementary school and had three older teenage sons who were friends with Patti’s boys. They were working with their parents to establish a garden along the lines of Stella’s and had borrowed the tiller.
Digger went out for firewood, cutting up dead trees and hauling them back in his truck. Even with a chainsaw and truck it was hard work, but without them it would have taken him weeks to do what he did in days, especially when Jarod and Craig joined him.
Mike worked constantly in the barn and in the tall shed that he’d claimed as his own. With the dogs and him on the premises Digger didn’t worry about leaving Stella and me alone, but he ordered me to carry Bud’s pistol everywhere. Incredibly, Digger was eager for the dragon’s countdown to the apocalypse to be over. His thinking was simple: once cars stopped working, people wouldn’t be anywhere near as mobile, and small towns like Apfall Hill had a chance of being overlooked by desperate people.
If I’d been in New York for the summer, I’d have faced Armageddon. The news showed the devastation. People rioted. Police and soldiers fired on civilians to protect other civilians. The television news was a horror show.
The radio described arrangements to obtain water, but there was no way an entire city in the near-future absence of electricity to power pumps could be supplied with water. People would have to source their own, and they were exhorted to boil it for at least one minute to make it safe to drink. I’d taken to giving the stand for the water tank an affectionate pat when I passed it.
The death of television was less momentous than I’d expected. Evenings were spent washing glass jars and bottles and leaving them upended on tea towels on the kitchen table to dry overnight. We talked as we worked or else listened to the radio. Then in the morning, edibles that were in plastic were emptied into the clean containers. I was grateful that all the candies I’d bought in Appletonia were already in glass jars. They stood in a line on a high shelf in the pantry. We were saving them, aware that as hard as we were working now, this was the easy times. The candies were for hard times when we’d need extra energy.
Jarod and Craig carried the defunct television out to the “Twenty First Century Graveyard” which the men had started on the road verge. Everything that we weren’t currently using and which would become useless with the loss of electricity and gas went there, including cars. We parked there, now, every time we returned home unless we were emptying a truck of supplies like firewood. That got stacked by the woodshed and at the rear of the barn before the truck returned to the graveyard.
The radio warned us of health problems
. It was frightening how quickly ordinary medicines became unavailable. Diabetics died without insulin. People addicted to opioid painkillers began suffering serious withdrawal. Antibiotics to treat people with open wounds were rationed in cities and in the pharmacy in town.
And then there were the infectious diseases that spread unchecked through the population. Enteric fever, or typhoid, is caused by a salmonella bacterium and it was spreading rapidly across the north west of America. I became rabid about everyone washing their hands after using the bathroom and before touching food.
Then the first wave of refugees reached us, and they carried guns.
Chapter 4
“Do you ever think about what might be out there?” I asked Digger as we walked along the fence line of the homestead toward the woods at the back. Those woods edged the north side of town and provided both protection and threat. Without roads or open fields, people couldn’t surprise us by driving in that way. On the other hand, they could lurk in the woods.
I’d accompanied Digger on patrol a few times. I was usually assigned to partner him. I patrolled less often than the others in the household, except for Stella who stayed at home always. The garden had green shoots everywhere and she managed our food production efforts closely.
“That’s why we watch for smoke,” Digger said. “Cooking fires give away people’s presence.”
“No, not people. Faerene.” This was the first time I’d ever felt scared to venture into the woods. I couldn’t smell smoke, but I could almost taste the saltiness of blood in my mouth and the warmth of it fresh from a body coating my hands.
For an instant, he broke off his scan of the environment to glance at me. For Digger, who was an army sergeant again every time he picked up a gun, that was a significant expression of surprise.
I checked my hands. They were clean apart from the dirt under my nails. I swallowed and the taste of blood in my mouth was gone. I pushed down my unease. An out of control imagination was a dangerous thing, and I didn’t want Digger to doubt my ability to patrol; to pull my weight. “The internet and TV used to show the creatures in cities, but the dragon said that there were many more we didn’t see. Are they out there?” I nodded at the forest in front of us. “Goblins, ogres, werewolves, sasquatch. Creatures who prefer the country to the city. What are they planning? How will they interact with us?”
Stray Magic Page 5