Surviving The End (Book 3): New World

by Hamilton, Grace

  “Owen got the kill,” Corbin said. “One shot.”

  Shane reached out as if to muss Owen’s hair, but Owen gently dodged. Shane squeezed his shoulder instead.

  “Good job, son.”

  “It wasn’t that hard,” Owen said, though he was beaming. “He was pretty big target.”

  “Let’s go fry up some gator,” James said, waving everyone through the gate.

  “It tastes better if you grill it,” Corbin said. “Trust me, sir. Fried gator is massively overrated.”

  “Okay, okay.” James, helping the young man lug one of the big coolers, moved through the gate. “Grilled gator it is.”

  As it turned out, fresh gator meat was a big draw. Everyone in the house, as well as David and Amelia from next door, found their way to the backyard. Beth lit the grill as James and Corbin unloaded the meat.

  “What are we eating?” Kaylee said, dashing about the yard as Bauer, Beth’s little Schnauzer barked and chased her. “Grammy, are we eating hamburgers?”

  “Not quite,” Beth said, “but it’ll still be delicious.”

  Shane and Jodi gathered up a bunch of vegetables on a big platter. Violet insisted on setting the table all by herself, feeling her way through the cupboards and drawers to find plates, cups, and silverware. James watched her for a bit and was impressed at how easily she found her way around the house now. Her guide dog hardly had to help at all, though she did pull Violet away from the edge of the counter a couple of times.

  “You just had to hunt alligators,” Beth muttered, elbowing James in the ribs.

  They were standing over the grill, Beth adjusting the flames as James prepped the cuts of meat on a cutting board.

  “Hey, now, you said gator meat was acceptable,” James replied.

  “I said I could stomach it. I much prefer venison.”

  “Well, I’ll get you a nice big buck next time,” James said with a wink.

  “Oh, you will, huh?”

  Bauer’s barking intensified then, turning from playful to aggressive, and Kaylee’s squealing stopped suddenly. Both James and Beth whipped around, instantly on alert, and the sheriff reached for his sidearm. James saw Kaylee standing quietly at the fence, frozen in place, with Bauer dashing back and forth at the base of the fence, barking. It didn’t take long to see what had drawn their attention—a face peering over the top of the fence.

  James recognized her, of course. A big poof of gray hair over a high forehead, her eyes rimmed in too much mascara.

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Beth muttered. “It’s my neighbor again.”

  “Nora, what the heck are you doing?” James said, fighting an urge to shout. “Haven’t you been told to stop climbing the fence?”

  “Oh, I’m not climbing the fence,” Nora said. “I’m just standing on a box. I heard a commotion. It sounded like a party.”

  “It’s not a party,” Beth said. “It’s just family hanging out in the backyard.”

  “Cooking something,” Nora noted, reaching a long-fingered hand over the top of the fence to point at the grill. “That’s a whole lot of meat. I haven’t been able to buy fresh meat at the C & R for weeks. The whole butcher section is empty. Are you doing more of that prepping?”

  “It’s not prepping,” Beth said. “It’s called grilling, and the meat is alligator.”

  “Alligator meat,” Nora said, her lips pulling back in disgust. “You’re eating alligator meat? Where in the world did you get that?”

  “We shot it this morning,” James said.

  Nora immediately started to duck down behind the fence, so James called her name. She reappeared again, but only the eyes, forehead, and hair.

  “Do you want some?” he asked. “We have plenty. We’ll grill you up a nice big gator steak.”

  “Hell, no,” she replied, as if the offer had offended her. “Alligator meat? Yuck! I’d sooner eat dog food.”

  And with that, Nora disappeared behind the fence, and James heard her scurrying away as fast as her feet would take her. Once she was gone, he turned to the grill and began laying cuts of gator meat over the flames. Beth lingered, glaring at the fence.

  “Nora is becoming a problem,” she said. “I was annoyed when she first started peeking over the fence, but it’s practically every day now. I never should have given her anything.”

  “Well, you felt sorry for her.” James said. “That’s understandable. She’s all alone over there.”

  Beth jabbed a fork into a big cut of meat and flipped it on the grill. “She keeps pushing for more and more. Before Shane finished topping the fence, I caught her on the property more than once. She’s the reason I had to start locking the shed and garage. She’ll root around anywhere she can get to. Nora’s become a human trash panda.”

  “When you caught her on the property, did you confront her?” James asked. “Technically, I could arrest her for that.”

  “Yeah, I confronted her,” Beth said. “I ran her off, and she apologized like crazy and scurried off. We live across the street from each other. Helping out a little now and then seemed like the neighborly thing to do, but I can’t get her to lift a finger to take care of herself. She won’t start a garden. She won’t store supplies. All she wants are handouts. Heck, she declined my offer of free seeds for her garden so many times, I just gave up. What a pest.”

  James grabbed the salt shaker and began salting the meat. “Do you want to file a complaint?”

  “What good would it do?”

  “Not much,” James said. “It’ll let her know I’m on the case, though. I can approach her, ask some questions, and turn up the heat a little bit.”

  “It’ll just create more work for you, and it won’t solve anything,” Beth said. “I have to get a bit harsher with her. That’s all there is to it.”

  As the meat began to sizzle and pop, people drew closer to the grill. James couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen so many people get excited about eating alligator, but it was the first fresh meat they’d enjoyed in weeks.

  “I’ll tell you what, Beth,” he said. “Why don’t I go ahead and take an unofficial report? You can come over to my place tomorrow after the town meeting, and we’ll…you know, talk.”

  He glanced at her, and she slowly turned to him. Was she actually blushing? He hadn’t expected such a reaction.

  “What do you say?” he asked. “My house tomorrow evening?”

  “Why, James Cooley, I never thought you’d ask,” she said.

  Most of the family had gathered around the grill, but if anyone picked up on the nature of the conversation, they didn’t let on.

  “So that’s a yes?” James said.

  “That’s a big fat yes,” Beth said.

  4

  The auditorium at the high school was far more packed this time. While the first town meeting had brought together roughly two hundred locals, Beth estimated that they had at least three hundred this time. The room was abuzz with the sounds of restless people, and she saw many squirming in their seats. Some, too anxious to sit, paced up and down the aisles or rocked from side to side. Beth and her family had taken the front row on the far-left side, so she had a full view of the crowd when she looked over her shoulder. The locals were noticeably thinner. Of course, with her careful rationing, even Beth and her family had lost weight. That was good. She didn’t want to be plump enough to signal that they had plenty of food.

  Still, for most people, the difference was stark. Beth saw gaunt faces and haunted, hungry eyes. It wasn’t just weight loss that made them look different. Priorities had changed, and with the lack of running water and less access to toiletries and makeup, the locals were starting to look rough. She saw wild hair, unshaved faces, patchy skin that desperately needed concealer, wrinkled clothes. The smell of the crowd was fairly pungent as well. There were at least a few ripe individuals somewhere in the room.

  Mayor Frank Zion and Sheriff Cooley were sitting in folding chairs on stage chatting quietly as people trickled in. The
mayor had brought a megaphone with him—it had the high school mascot on the side. Frank was a girthy fellow—though less girthy than before—and unlike so many others, he had maintained his hairstyle, his black hair combed straight back from his forehead and gelled in place. He had a care-worn face, a deeply lined forehead, and sharp, intelligent eyes that were always gazing about, as if he were constantly analyzing his surroundings.

  Finally, the sheriff leaned in and said something to him, and the mayor nodded and rose. He pulled a pocket watch from a pocket of his plaid vest, checked the time, and stooped down to grab the megaphone. At this, a tense quiet fell over the gathered crowd. Beth scanned the many faces. After a moment, she spotted Nora, her nosy neighbor from across the street.

  Good, Beth thought. I don’t want her snooping around at the house while we’re gone.

  “Thank you all for coming tonight,” Mayor Frank said, speaking into the megaphone like some strange cheerleader. It was an absurd sight, and Beth had to suppress a laugh. “I know it’s an inconvenience, so let me jump right in. We’re dealing with a myriad of problems in the community, and, yes, I’ve already spoken with many of you in the last few weeks. Rather than rehashing a bunch of conversations tonight, let me go through the list.”

  He dug into his vest pocket again and retrieved a folded piece of paper. With a flip of his hand, he unfolded the paper and held it up. At the same time, he aimed the megaphone lower so the audience could see his face. The megaphone wasn’t entirely necessary. Frank had a strong voice, but maybe he didn’t want to shout. Maybe, like so many others, he didn’t quite have the energy for it any longer.

  “As we all know, the power is still out,” Frank said. “If you still have a working radio, maybe you’ve heard the president’s occasional speeches. We have a long road ahead of us, he says, but we’re working as hard as we can. That’s the promise he keeps making, but we haven’t seen any progress.”

  For some reason, this earned him applause from the audience. He seemed surprised and looked up.

  “For those of you who don’t have a working radio, we’ll keep listening and let you know if the official story changes,” he continued. “Of course, with the power out, we have no running water. I’ve had a few questions about that. ‘Why is there no water if there’s no power? What does water have to do with electricity?’ Well, folks, the electricity runs the municipal pumps, so if we can’t pump the water, it doesn’t reach your faucet. Please pass that information along to anyone who didn’t make the meeting tonight.”

  Immediately, hands went up in the audience. One fortyish man near the front stood up and waved his hand over his head. Beth recognized him, a pale and bony fellow with an unkempt beard. He’d attended the first meeting and suggested that every household provide an inventory of food so they could pool resources. A suggestion which had been immediately shot down by a disgruntled Navy vet.

  “Hold on to your questions for a minute, folks,” Mayor Frank said. Then he gestured at the man standing up. “Ryan, please have a seat. Trust me, you’ll get a chance to speak. Let me get through my list so we’re all on the same page. Thank you.”

  Hands went down, and Ryan, scowling, returned to his seat. Mayor Frank shook his paper and resumed.

  “Okay, now, where was I?” Frank said. “No running water, yes. The good news is we’ve been able to get the fuel pumps working at a few of the gas stations with the help of some generators, but those stations are almost out of fuel. If you happen to own a working vehicle, drive sparingly, please. Save your fuel for emergencies or essential trips into town.”

  “A few of us still go to work,” someone shouted from the back of the room.

  “Consider car-pooling or alternative forms of transportation,” Frank replied. “The supply chain for gasoline is slower than molasses. I don’t know when or if we’ll get another tanker truck. Believe me, I ask every day.”

  “Are we supposed to walk?” someone shouted.

  “Walk, ride a bicycle, skateboard, roller skate, whatever you’ve got,” Frank said, “just be careful on the roads. I’m not saying you can’t drive. I’m just saying we’ll run out of gasoline sooner rather than later, and then nobody’ll be driving anywhere.”

  He shook out the paper again, as if to punctuate the point.

  “Other items of note,” he said. “The sheriff has spoken to many of you in the community, and it seems like all the phones are dead now. No phone service at all. The post office is attempting to resume regular mail service, but they’re struggling to figure out how to make it work logistically.”

  “What about food?” someone shouted.

  “Yes, food,” Frank said. He crumpled the paper and shoved it into his vest pocket. “I am in the process of putting together a team of people to impound all remaining food at the grocery stores and convenience stores in our area. We hesitated to do this, but it has simply become necessary. By bringing all of the food to one location, we will be able to inventory what we’ve got so we can distribute it in a fair and equitable manner.”

  This caused some satisfied murmurs in the crowd, but Beth looked over her shoulder, gazing among the faces until she found the owner of the local C & R Supermarket. She was sitting on the far aisle, a weary woman with a handkerchief tied over her hair. Although she must have already known about the mayor’s plan, she was staring daggers at him.

  “It’s not right,” she said loudly, even as Frank started to move on to something else. “It’s government-approved theft. You can’t just come into my store and steal my inventory that I paid for.”

  People sitting around her shushed her, but she waved them off.

  “Nobody’s stealing anything,” Mayor Frank said. “We’re keeping careful records, and we’ll find a way to compensate store owners for anything we take. Now, we’ve talked about this.”

  The woman started to say something else, but the man sitting next to her grabbed her arm. She glared at him a moment then clamped her mouth shut and settled back in her seat.

  “We’re just trying to find the best way to take care of the community,” the mayor said. “Anyway, things were getting out of hand at the stores. People have already been hurt, and I’d like to prevent further injuries.”

  The pale, bony fellow in the front row—Ryan—stood up again. He raised his hand but began speaking before he was called upon.

  “I don’t know if you remember, but I suggested this at the last meeting,” he said. “It was my idea to make an inventory of available food, but it’s not going to work unless we extend the inventory to individual households.” He turned to look at the people sitting around him. “Fair and equitable, that’s what it’s about, just like the mayor said. We might have people hoarding food while families starve to death just because they got to the grocery store first. That’s not right.”

  He turned to face the crowd fully, eyes wide as if he was ready for a furious argument, but nobody spoke up this time. Beth scanned the audience for the Navy vet and found him sitting near the back, arms crossed over his chest. He kept his silence. Nobody accused the young man of socialism this time, and as the silence stretched on for a few seconds, Beth felt a growing unease. She didn’t dare argue with the young man for fear of drawing the wrong kind of attention, so she decided to change the subject.

  Rising, she waved a hand to draw the crowd’s attention. “Folks, I just wanted to let everyone know I’ve brought some seeds: cabbages, peas, spinach, turnips, carrots, potatoes, onions, and radishes. They grow well in our climate and soil. I keep plenty of seeds on hand, but we can probably find more at local home improvement or garden stores. If you’re interested in starting a garden, let me know after the meeting. It’s a great way to supplement your food supplies. Anyone can do it, but if you need some advice or help, I’m perfectly willing.”

  It was the best thing she could offer the community. She did want to help, but she had prepared for this very scenario so she could take care of her family. All of her hard work, and all of th
e supplies she had stored in the house, weren’t there to be rapidly consumed by irresponsible townsfolk. If she could get everyone gardening, it allowed her to help without taking away from her loved ones.

  “You know,” she said, speaking off the cuff, just trying to keep the momentum going. Everyone was listening, and thus far, nobody seemed hostile to her idea. “We might even set up some community gardens. Parks or undeveloped lots could be tilled and prepared, and we could share both the work and the harvest. I’d be willing to help identify the most fertile plots of land in the community.”

  James was beaming at her from his seat on stage, but she waited to gauge the reaction of the townsfolk. A few nodded, and finally one elderly gentleman said, “Thanks. We appreciate it. Sounds like a good idea.”

  “It’s a great idea to grow our own food,” someone said.

  “I like the idea of community gardens,” someone else said, “but we’ll have to police them and make sure no one takes advantage.”

  “All the vegetables we harvest will have to go into the communal stock,” said another. “That way we can portion it out.”

  Ryan had taken his seat again, but he stood up suddenly, trumpeting toward the back of the room. “Hey, guys, look, I think growing gardens is a fine idea. Sure, grow all the hay and squash and whatever else you want to grow, but the fact is, it’ll take months for anything to ripen. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to starve while waiting for tomatoes to turn red.”

  This got quite a few more nods from the crowd than Beth’s original suggestion.

  “We need food now,” Ryan said. “We’re all trying to survive now.”

  And then it happened. Beth saw movement out of the corner of her eye. When she turned, she locked eyes for a fraction of a second with her neighbor Nora. Dressed in a filthy old housedress, Nora looked worse than ever, her face a fright-mask of sunburned cheeks and sleep-deprived eyes. She stood up and then climbed onto her seat, holding her arms out to either side to maintain her balance.

  “I live across the street from this woman,” Nora said, her shrill voice carrying across the room. “Her name is Beth Bevins. Yeah, she wants to give everyone garden seeds, but I’m telling y’all, she’s a prepper.” She said it like it was a curse word. “I have reason to believe she’s got tons of food stashed all over her property. Tons. Think about how that could help the town!”