by A. American
“No news is good news,” I said.
Danny had already oiled the old bell, and it worked great. We came up with a simple code: one ring simply meant they needed Mark or a deputy. Three rings in rapid succession meant there was a problem. If the bell was being rung continuously and fast, then the shit had hit the fan at the barricade.
With all that sorted out, we loaded up and headed back to Danny’s, stopping by Mark’s to tell him about the bell and the code for the rings. He thought it was a great idea and wondered why no one had thought of it sooner. After talking with him for a minute with him, we headed back to Danny’s. We installed the panels on the roof of the rear porch. It faced south and would have the best exposure, plus it put them close to the electrical panel.
Once the panels were mounted, we installed the inverter/charger on the porch under the panel. Danny already had the two deep-cycle batteries sitting there and I wired them up, using the cables from the boat. Once it was all hooked up, I used an old Simpson analog meter to check the voltage: ten volts was all they had in them. The charge controller indicated the batteries were getting almost four amps of charge, not bad for only two panels. I told Danny to let them charge for the rest of the day before we tried to connect anything and see what they looked like tomorrow.
We spent the rest of the day hanging out there, just like old times. Mel and Bobbie cooked some venison steaks on a grill Danny had set in the fireplace and even managed a pot of rice and a couple cans of green beans. There wasn’t a lot, but it was enough, and as we ate we talked of how we were more fortunate than some of our neighbors. As we sat around the fire after eating, Danny asked about water.
“Do you think that will run my well pump?”
“No, your pump is 240 volts; that only has 120 volts,” I said.
He sat there for a minute thinking. “What if we took that irrigation pump from your place and hooked up to my well. Are you using it?”
“I’m not using it and the inverter will run it, but it will be a pretty big draw on the batteries.”
“All I want to be able to do is fill a drum every few days; it should be able to do that,” Danny said.
“Yeah, as long as you aren’t doing too often, it would do fine. We’ll do it tomorrow if you want.”
“It would be nice. I’ve been dipping water from the pond, and it’s getting old.”
“All right, tomorrow. I’ll pull it off and bring it down,” I said.
I had never thought of his water situation. Danny had a small pond on his property, but it was the color of strong tea, and I could only imagine what it was like having to deal with it. We finally said our good-byes and Mel and the girls headed for the Suburban. Danny went out and opened the gate for us and we drove out, everyone waving to him as we did. The drive to our house is short, just five minutes, and in the past was never something to give a second thought to. Tonight, in the dark and in light of recent events, I was looking at every shadow on the side of the road. Some of the houses had a little light, but most were dark. There was still the assortment of dogs that ran along with the old truck as we went along, stopping when they hit the fence at the property line.
When we pulled up to the gate, Mel started to get out and open it, but I told her I would do it and to keep her eyes open. As I got out and headed for the gate, Meathead came running up, tail a wagging and that silly almost-smile on his face. Seeing him made me feel a little better; if anyone was out there he would let me know. After pulling in and closing the gate, I pulled up to the house. It was pitch-dark, since leaving the porch light on was a no-no these days. I told the girls to all stay in the truck and I got out and walked up to the house with my rifle at the ready.
At the door I turned on the Surefire mounted to the rail and lit up the front door. I opened it and let Meathead go in. He ran in and sniffed around, then ran to the sliding glass door in the dining room and started to bark and jump at the door; something had his attention out there. I doubled back to the truck, made sure Mel had her pistol and told her to get in the driver’s seat, and that if it got loud to go back to Danny’s. I walked around the edge of the house toward the gate in the split fence. The gate was closed so I just sat and listened.
It was an eerie quiet, like in a horror movie right before someone goes, Hey do you hear that? and a chainsaw starts up and cuts that guy in half. That was a little less funny when I remembered what had happened to Don. I went back to the house and got the dog and brought him out, opened the gate and tuned him out into the yard. He took off like a shot, barking his ass off. I could hear him running toward the back fence, and then he turned and headed back toward me. Raising my rifle, I flipped the light back on and saw the three sets of eyes reflecting back at as they ran toward the spit fence just to my right. Instinctively I centered the sights on one of the deer and fired two quick shots. The deer fell about ten feet from the fence and the other two went over.
Hearing the old Cummins rumble to life, I ran around the side of the house and waved at Mel before she drove off. I was surprised when I almost ran into her. “Who’s driving the truck?” I asked in genuine surprise and relief that neither of us had shot the other.
“Taylor is! I told her to get ready to go if I gave her the signal,” she replied.
“Why weren’t you in the truck?” I was a little upset.
“And just leave you here? What happened back there?”
“It was a deer. Meathead chased three deer.”
“And you shot one?” she asked.
“Yeah, I didn’t really think about it, just did it.”
“Oh, the neighbors are going to love you. Are trying to piss them all off? I mean, it’s nice you got the meat, but you have a bow, and everyone in the neighborhood heard that shot.”
And she was right. It wasn’t long before an ATV could be heard coming down the road. It went past our house and to the barricade, so I didn’t think anything of it. Mel went to get the girls in the house and I went over to the deer, which Meathead was licking like a popsicle. Looking down at it, all I could think was that I really didn’t want to mess with it right then. But I had given away half of the last one, and this one would certainly help. I decided to give some to Danny, but the rest was going in the freezer.
I was brought out of my thoughts by the sound of the ATV coming back up the road. I listened as it slowed in front of my house, then the distinct sound of my gate opening and the machine started up the drive. I walked out to see who it was and could tell from the headlights it was Mark.
“What was the shooting about?” Mark asked as he shut the machine down.
“Meathead jumped a deer and I shot it, reflex more than anything else,” I replied.
“You shot another one? Are you trying to piss everyone around here off?”
“Yeah, I heard that one already.”
“What? Whatever. Everyone knows you got the other one and now you get another one, and when they find out about it they’ll be pissed.”
“First off, they’re free to get their own deer; I’m not stopping them. And second, how are they going to find out when right now only you and I know about it?” I replied.
His entire demeanor changed. Mark crossed his arms and stared back at me. “What do you mean by that?”
“You said ‘when they find out about it.’ I’m not going to say anything, are you?”
“No, I’m not, but they will find out. Look, these people are hungry, their kids are hungry, they are getting desperate and we need to be working together. Everyone needs to pitch in so we can all get through this,” Mark said.
“That’s a good idea. Everyone should get together and do just that,” I replied.
“So you’re on board, then?”
“Me, no. I’ll take care of my family and myself.”
“What’s wrong with you? Why won’t you help?” Mark asked.
That
pissed me off. “I am helping. I use my truck for the benefit of all, I pull security—one of few that do around here—and I don’t ask for anything. You haven’t seen my family or me in the line for the food you got from the county.”
“No, and everyone has noticed it too.”
“So what? They should be happy that the five of us stayed away; it was more for them. These people need to start worrying about taking care of themselves and stop worrying about what someone else has. I’ve shared food too, did you know that?”
Mark was silent for a moment. “I know you gave some to Danny.”
“Yeah, and I gave some to him.” I pointed to my neighbor’s house. “He didn’t want to take it, but I told him his kids wouldn’t care where the meat came from.”
“No, he didn’t bother saying anything about it.”
“But they were probably bitching with everyone else, right?”
Mark just looked at the ground. “Look, I need to know how much food you have.”
“That’s none of your, or anyone else’s, business. I’m not asking anything from them or you, so everyone needs to leave me the hell alone.” I practically spit the words out.
“You don’t get it, do you? No one saw this coming. If we don’t work together, no one is going to get out of this alive. Do you enjoy this shit?”
“No, I don’t enjoy this shit, what the fuck is wrong with you? But implying that because I was more prepared than others and that as a result I’m responsible for them is pure bullshit.”
“I have to do what is best for everyone. If you have food, it needs to be distributed,” Mark said. Now he was starting to get pissed.
“And for what? You take what I have and give it out to people that are sitting on their asses waiting for someone, not them, but someone else, to come along and give them what they need and want. So what happens then? Then my family is starving and we’re back where we started. And besides, that isn’t going to fucking happen, and I think you know that,” I replied.
“What are they supposed to do? You can’t go to the store and buy food. There isn’t any food.”
“I got two deer; they can hunt. There’s rabbits and squirrels, dove and quail, why the hell can’t they go out and get their own food? I mean, what the fuck are they doing all day? Waiting in the bread line complaining? Tell ’em to go hunting, set snares, whatever. Hell, we have a library—tell ’em to do some reading, figure it out. Tell ’em to get ready for planting season. Tell ’em to get off their asses and take care of themselves.”
“These guys are trying. You shot your deer at night, but no one else has flashlight batteries, and during the day there are so many people out in the woods that no one is seeing anything. So they’re getting pissed that you go out at night with a bright-ass light and knock deer down with no effort,” Mark said.
“What the fuck, man? You’re turning into one of the mob that was at your house. Have you forgotten that? That bunch that stood there while Randal pointed a gun at your wife? Some of these people who are whispering in your ear were at your house ready to take what they thought you had, and now you come here and try to do the same to me.”
“This isn’t the same thing. There’s no mob here, it’s just me.”
“No, but it is the same thing: you want what I have. You going to shoot me in front of my wife and kids? Are you ready for that fight?”
“Dammit, Morgan, no one is talking about shooting you! But something has to happen or it’s going to get damn ugly around here. It’s getting hard for me to keep these people under control,” Mark snapped.
“Then organize them! There are things to eat: organize hunting parties so that not everyone is out in the woods at the same time. I mean, how many houses are out here, thirty or forty? What’s that, a hundred people or better? Get them all working together. I don’t see anyone doing anything but sitting around and waiting. Well, guess what: no one is coming. They need to step up and take responsibility for themselves.”
“It’s my responsibility to take care of them.”
“No, it’s not. You’re law enforcement; if you want to take that on, then that’s on you. But if that’s the road you’re gonna take, you have to think about something: people look up to you. They trust you. What you say means something, and more important, what they say in front of you means something. You got guys talking about taking what I have. If you don’t say something, they’re gonna figure you think it’s okay. And where does that put us? I mean, look, this is a pretty heated conversation, but I don’t think for a minute you’re gonna come after me. But what about them? What happens when half a dozen guys drink the last of their liquor some night and head my way? How does that situation end? Them dead, me dead, my family dead? How does any of that benefit anybody?”
Mark was shaking his head, but he looked uncertain.
“I’m for this community, I am. I know we have to stand together, I do. But I have to stand for my family first, just like everybody else. And if you’re not telling them I’m with them, that I’ve already done a lot for everybody, then what the fuck are they supposed to think? Look, I’ll do everything I can to help, but get it in your head now: what I have is mine, period.”
Mark stood there for a minute thinking. “Sorry, man; it’s just getting really bad. You know Miss Janice at the end of the road?”
“Yeah, she has the forty acres, right?”
“That’s her. She’s in bad shape. She has no food at all. She actually ate the canned cat food she had. Plus, she told me she saw three men on the other side of her fence, toward the forest.”
“Well, that’s not good. We need to start doing roving patrols, that way anyone who tries to sneak around will at least think we have our shit together. As for her food situation, I’ll take her some of this venison and some other stuff I can spare tomorrow. I’ll also walk her fence and see what I can find there.”
“Thanks, man. Things are just getting bad and I’m not sure I can keep things together much longer.”
“I’ll help you any way I can. If anyone is in desperate shape, I’ll try and help, but don’t think that makes me the food bank. You heard what I said, right? They’re looking to you for leadership. And I’m sorry as all hell you don’t want it, but you’ve been elected. No one wants to hear you’re not sure, okay? You have to dig deep and give the people what they need, even if it’s not what they want.”
Mark was quiet for a minute and kicked at the dirt. “Yeah, I hear you. It’s just—”
“I know, man, I know. Nobody asked for this. But nobody’s asking if we asked for it either. We just have to do what we gotta do. They picked you. You can’t just give up, and you can’t let them call the shots. I mean, shit, what is civilization? It’s having someone in charge who thinks about what’s best for the group but who stands up for the rights of the individual.”
“You’re laying it on kinda thick, Morg.”
I shook my head and said, “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. We can’t afford that shit right now. They picked you, man. You gotta lead.”
“Fuck me,” Mark said.
“I hear you, man.”
Mel came out of the house and called, “Hey, you coming in? Oh, hi, Mark, everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just checking on the shots I heard.” Then he looked back at me and said, “Well, I gotta go.” We shook hands and he headed out for the gate. I still had a deer to dress, and as much as I didn’t want to do it, I knew that being in Mark’s shoes was worse.
Chapter 13
Thad got up early the next morning to tend to the animals, and he saw the feed was almost gone. He knew that in the past people would turn their hogs out into the forest and let them free-range. He decided that later today he would walk the fence and see if it was good enough to keep them in and if it was, he would turn them out. After letting the chickens o
ut to run for the day, he went back inside.
Thad found Tony sitting at the table eating a wedge of cornbread that Anita had poured some condensed milk over. Thad sat down and pulled the plate over in front of himself. Little Tony reached out and grabbed the plate. He had a big smile on his face with a mouthful of cornbread and milk running out of the corners of his mouth. Thad smiled and pushed the plate back over to the boy and Anita came over and set a plate down in front of him. Taking a bite, Thad understood why Tony didn’t want to share.
Anita set a cup of coffee down in front of him and he washed the cornbread down with it. Anita carried the pot over and asked, “Want more?”
“Sure,” Thad said and he held his cup out.
“Enjoy it while it lasts. There’s one more can and it’s gone.”
“Damn, that’ll be a bad day.”
After his second cup of coffee, Thad went outside. He felt anxious and didn’t know why, but he had seen enough bad in the new world to pay attention to the feeling. Coming around the side of the house, he saw the old Scout sitting there and suddenly he knew what he was anxious about. He went over and sat down in the old truck and turned the key. The little truck turned over and rumbled to life. The gas gauge showed half a tank, so Thad drove the truck around to the barn and went inside. He found one full five-gallon can and one with about three gallons in it. He took them both out to the truck and put them in the back. It was the first time he thought that maybe having a hybrid might be worth it, and that made him smile. There wasn’t a hybrid ever built that was big enough for him to fit into.
He told Anita that he was going to take a short ride and would be back soon. Thad drove the old truck back around the house and out the gate and made a left. The road was just a dirt track and went out into the woods past the house. He was watching the side of the road that the house was on for a place to pull off. After about a mile he found a spot that looked right and pulled off into the woods. The four-wheel drive worked good, and he was able to push the truck out into the bush a pretty good distance.