The back door was already kicked in and he casually walked in. The kitchen was the first room and it was ransacked like most he came across. He quickly checked the cupboards knowing that people would overlook items that were important now. He found some salt and spices that were added to his bag. Many of the other items were eaten away by rodents and insects over the years.
He went to the living room and skipped the area all together. Anytime he tried to look for valuables in a living room it was waste of time. The good stuff was in two places, the bedroom and the basement. He found the stairwell and started up the stairs when a rat ran past him. It was large a male rat about the size of a small cat. He moved aside and watched it scurry past.
“Vaminos!” he said, the Spanish from his childhood coming back in moments of panic.
He quickly looked in the rooms and found the bedrooms. The master bedroom had two bodies in the king size bed. Old, decayed, and partially mummified. He did a sign of the cross and then went about checking the drawers and closets for things. The most horrible thing he ever found was the collection of sex toys that were hidden in dressers and closets. Those were not items that had a second hand used market for him to take advantage of. For some odd reason he always put the drawer back as if he was helping the people who were no longer there to keep their kinky secrets.
He found an old .38 revolver in the sock drawer. In the closet he hunted around pulling all the clothes off the rack and stepped in to look around. Usually if there was a gun there were other things that they hid in the home of value. He pulled the boxes off the shelf above and found shoes and more shoes. Had the woman been a professional of some kind? Then he hit the jackpot. The shoe box was heavy. He lowered it and found a few boxes of .38 ammo and some stacks of silver ounces and a few single gold ounces. While this had value right after The Day it was starting to come back as a form of trade and trade was good for gold. He could get a week’s worth of food for an ounce of gold and a full meal for a day with silver. It fit with the new form of wealth being food. Canned goods were now past there “best by” dates and many people stopped taking them for fear of botulism.
He put the gold coins in his pants pockets and the silver and ammo in his bag. The weight was heavy but worth it if he got it to town. He continued through the house to make sure he had everything. In the kids room there was nothing of value. Broken toys and stuffed bears were scattered around. In the third room was where the oldest kid slept. On the wall was a Japanese sword. He picked it up off the wall and pulled the blade out. It was still polished and showed no rust. A thin layer of oil and powder was still on it as the previous owner took good care of it. The handle was wrapped in leather straps with a brass hand guard. The sheath was wood and layered in lacquer. Painted red and with a Zen style free hand painted lotus on it he was amazed that it was still here. He loosened the belt on his pants by one notch and slid the sword in to wear it on his hip. He had no idea how to use it but it could intimidate anyone that came along. He already had the revolver but the sword was “cooler” than the gun. He looked around the room and found some old comic books that were small and easy to carry.
Lonewolf and Cub was a title that covered the shelves. He found the first few and stuffed them in his bag for some late night reading. Plus, the pictures were easy to understand and told a story even if he couldn’t understand the words. He found the shampoo and soap that was left in the bathroom along with a half used roll of toilet paper. He was amazed what people would pay for toilet paper.
He left the house and went back to the shed. He took out the metal rakes, hoes, and shovels. The town was getting to the point where nobody needed anymore shovels but he thought he could convince people they needed backups in case their old ones broke. In these days it was not hard to sell a little insurance. “Just in case” was a lifestyle that people embraced now.
He looked at the hoses and other items and in the corner sat a wheelbarrow, upright and out of sight in the shade. He pulled it out. The wheel still good, rubber instead of inflated. This would make his life easier now. He placed the bag and the tools in the wheelbarrow and started on his way.
A few miles away he had found a barn that was fairly new. The space inside smelled of hay and animal matter but it was still dry and he could stockpile his finds. Moving the wheelbarrow down the trail he tried to make sure he was quiet and the rakes and shovels didn’t rattle too much while he went his way.
Back at the barn he opened the doors after unlocking them and wheeled his fresh finds inside. The walls were lined with goods. Canned goods in one pile, he usually took a few out of the pile and ate them for dinner since they were no longer good for trade. Everything else he had sorted into various piles. Canned goods, tools, clothes, weapons, metals, and some medicine. He had plenty of Aspirin and Motrin; he recognized those from the labels, everything else he stayed away from.
Ricardo went over to the pile of cans after putting the items away and opened some peaches and tuna. It wasn’t the best combination. He finished the meal with the peaches. Tuna was in ready supply, the peaches were a luxury. Curling up in the pile of clothes he fell asleep for the night.
The next morning he filled the wheelbarrow with items he was willing to barter for in town. He kept the gold coins in his pockets and threw a stack of silver in the wheelbarrow.
Walking the miles to town took all morning and when he got there food was the first thing on his mind. He hauled the wheelbarrow to the busy stalls and looked over the food. Some of the stalls had old grills installed where they set up for the day and cooked various items for sale and the smell blew over the market and people shifted around with the smells taking in the new aromas as they shopped.
Ricardo smelled some rabbit cooking on a grill and moved there first.
“How much for a rabbit?” Ricardo asked.
“What you got?” the man asked looking over the wheelbarrow. His eyes widened. “I’ll take that flat shovel.” the man said.
“Two hind quarters and you have yourself a deal.” Ricardo said pulling the shovel out of the wagon.
“I really need another for cleaning up after the rabbits.” the man said putting it behind the booth and moving back to the grill.
The man pulled the pieces of rabbit from the grill and handed them over to Ricardo on a paper plate.
Ricardo inhaled the rabbit and sat next to his wheelbarrow protecting his stash. After the rabbit, he hauled the wheelbarrow over to the local brew pub and went to the back door. He thought about trying to get the wheelbarrow through the front door but figured it would be easier to barter in the back. Ricardo pounded on the door and waited.
The door opened and the middle aged man with the long beard answered. His hair was speckled in grey hair but his body was fit with a slight pouch from his mead tasting.
“You again.” the man said.
“What do you have this week?” the kid asked.
“Come in,” the man said. The kid turned around and looked at his stuff.
“Nobody will touch it, they will think it’s mine.” the man said.
They went to the storeroom where bottles lined the wall and the smell of fermenting mead hung in the air.
“I’m working on orange clove mead. I know it’s strange since oranges don’t grow here but somebody brought me a bag of dried orange peels that were found at a health food store. So, I thought this recipe would be a nice change.” the man said.
“I’ll take a few bottles when it’s done.” the kid said. “Can I reserve some and pay you now?” the kid asked.
“I don’t see why not.” the man said.
“Good, what else do you have?” the kid asked.
The old man looked at this kid who couldn’t be any older than sixteen and yet he was buying mead by the case.
“What’s your name kid?” the old man asked. “I’m Odin.” He put his hand out as if greeting the kid for the first time.
“Nice to meet you Odin. Where is your mead?” the kid continued with the transaction.
Odin brushed off the incident and went about showing the bottles he had. At this point corks had started to be recycled and reused with wax and other forms of paraffin to help seal the bottles shut. Old labels were covered in magic marker to label what the contents really were.
The kid selected two cases and then they went to the wheelbarrow to seal the deal.
The kid pulled out the tools and other items of interest he thought Odin would take but Odin had other things in mind.
“How much do you want for the wheelbarrow?” Odin asked.
The kid’s face had a puzzled look.
“I can’t sell that.” the kid replied.
“Why not?” Odin inquired.
“I need it to get the wine home.” the kid retorted.
Odin saw the dilemma.
“Ok, how about this. The silver, Motrin, and the wheelbarrow. However, you can use the wheelbarrow to get the wine home but next time you leave it here. Deal?” Odin said putting his hand out.
The kid thought about it. The old man would never know when he would get his wheelbarrow and he could still use it while he was out collecting items for barter.
Ricardo grabbed Odin’s hand and the deal was sealed.
“Now, how much you want for the sword?” Odin inquired.
Ricardo ended up leaving with three cases of mead, a large haul. The wheelbarrow of course was owned by Odin now but in the meantime Ricardo could still use it until he came into town again. Ricardo left town and took his haul where it was intended.
A few days later, Odin sat at the bar and waited for customers like he usually did when he wasn’t brewing a new batch of mead. He heard the bell on the door and watched a very beautiful and very pregnant woman walk in through the door. He recognized her right away.
“Fatima, what brings the pleasure of your company?” Odin greeted her.
“I was hoping that maybe your miracle kid came in lately.” she said.
She tried to sit at the bar and instead decided to sit at one of the tables.
“He did, let me bring what he sold me this week.” Odin said walking into the backroom.
He came back out with a box filled with partially filled bottles of Motrin. She shifted through the bottles shaking them.
“This is a lot.” she said grabbing another. “How much do you want for this?” she asked.
“For you, the usual,” he replied.
“Odin, you have to charge me something.” she said, the sweet look spread across her face. It was impossible to charge her anything.
“You know dear, that when you walk in anything is free of charge.” he said. “The service you supply this little town of ours is priceless and I’m happy to help.”
“Thank you so much,” she said putting the bottles back into the box.
“Of course,” he started to add. “If I ever come down sick with something…”
“I’ll be right there.” she added at the end.
“Don’t ever forget that.”
“I won’t,” she said standing up with her large belly and picking up the box.
“You take care now,” Odin said as she walked out of the bar.
Odin went to the back of the bar and counted the boxes of medication that he had sitting waiting for her on future visits. There were still ten boxes sitting on the shelves. Odin would sort through them putting the most expired into the next box and keeping the rest behind for future visits. Fatima didn’t drink and her visits were the only way he ever got to see her. He had ten more weeks of visits unless the kid came back with more meds. Somehow, he always forgot to ask for other things besides the Aspirin and Motrin but it seemed like the only thing he ever grabbed.
Ricardo hauled the wheelbarrow down the road and couldn’t wait to get his trade to its destination. It was out of the way from going home but it was something he had to do. The evening sun was still high in the sky, he had a few hours before the sun would be down and he would have to find cover for the night.
As the sky started to turn to a deep red and the clouds showed a more three dimensional shape he reached his destination and set the wheelbarrow down. He walked up to the door and knocked. It was a small house. The street was lined with several others. At one time it must have been a neighborhood of some kind. The houses were only a few dozen feet apart, flat land, could have been a farm at one time.
The door opened and an older woman answered. She wasn’t old, maybe in her forties at the most. She seemed older as time went on and he was constantly worried about her.
“Mom,” he said.
“Ricardo, come on in.” she said. She hugged him as he entered. “Oh, I missed you.” She kissed his cheeks.
“Mom, please.” he said, the man growing up.
“A mother can’t kiss her son?” she asked.
“I brought you something.” he said walking back to the wheelbarrow and showing her the cases of mead.
“Ricardo, what am I supposed to do with that?” she said.
“What you have been doing. Trade it for food.” he replied.
“Yes but, why can’t you get a job like everyone else?” she asked.
The question puzzled him.
“What world do you think we live in?” he said. “There are no ‘jobs’ mother.”
“No jobs. You could plant. Have a farm. Have a family. Meet a nice girl.” she went on and on.
“I’m fifteen and I’m taking care of you. That is my job.” he said taking the cases of mead out of the wheelbarrow.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “How am I supposed to carry that?”
“You’re an adult, figure it out.” he said walking away with his wheelbarrow, the cases of mead sitting in front of the house.
He walked on as she yelled at him. The mead would feed her for over a month and yet she wasn’t grateful. He wondered why he did it, why he still took care of her. She abused him every time he stopped by and yet he came back for more. She could grow a garden like so many others have done. She had the means to take care of herself.
He hurried away and went back to the barn. His bed of old clothes was waiting for him and he needed to get there before it was dark. The moon was a crescent now and the night was hard to travel without the moonlight.
Chapter 13: Midwest United States
Fatima no longer had to worry about going to the market, it being closed until next spring. The thoughts of traveling were not high on her to do list. The kids and the cabin took up most of her time and as she became bigger she soon let little John take over the collection of dinner with fishing from the river. The plants were wilting and Fatima had already dried out and hung the herbal plants she would need for winter and spring. Canning was finished. Once in a while, when she was lucky, she could still shoot something from the porch for dinner or as dried meat for winter. Without a calendar or a way to measure the year besides the seasons she had no idea how far along she was or when she could expect to go into labor. What she knew was that she was getting bigger and it was harder to move around.
During a fall afternoon Fatima watched little John feeding the chickens. The chickens pecked around in the garden and he seemed to have fun watching them race around to new spots where the feed fell to the ground. From the woods Fatima felt someone approaching. It was a new sensation that she had picked up on, a sixth sense that she never had before, unneeded in the older civilized world. Now it was a matter of survival. She turned to the tree line and saw a woman walking out. She recognized her, the hair was longer, body thicker and skin more tan than before but she knew it was Isabel. She waved and Isabel waved back smiling.
“Fatima, hi.” Isabel said walking up and hugging her, working around the protruding belly.
Fatima hugged her back, but a part of her didn’t trust the blonde. The events of years ago were still fresh in her mind and the safety of her children weighed heavy on her heart. Still, she placed her trust with this woman who she had helped not that long ago.
“Norah told me yo
u were probably close and with two kids it sounded like you would need help. Bruce and I talked about it and he stayed home with our two and I thought I would come out if you want me to stay.” Isabel explained.
Fatima thought about it and it was an easy answer that she didn’t want to give so quickly. She needed the help and if the labor became complicated she would need someone else there. She may not trust this woman but at the moment she was all Fatima had.
“Yes, I would like that.” Fatima said.
They made small talk at the garden, catching up on the latest gossip around the area which became the replacement for news. It sounded like everyone was pregnant and having babies, when there isn’t a TV there is not much else to do at night.
The extra hands around the cabin were a blessing. Isabel took care of the chickens and helped cook the meals. Fatima was sure she was days away from going into labor. She tried to remember how things were with the previous kids and knew she was getting close. It was odd being on the receiving end of going into labor. Fatima had helped deliver Isabel’s two children. Now the role would be reversed. Fatima would never have imagined she would be placing her life in the hands of the daughter of the man responsible for her sons’ deaths. The new world was an odd place, and when you finally thought things could not get stranger they found a way to surprise you.
A layer of frost covered the ground when they awoke in the morning. Fatima had started a fire in the fireplace the night before and the cabin was fairly warm. Isabel went to the chicken coop and gathered eggs for breakfast. Fatima relaxed at the dinner table while Isabel created a potato and egg omelet.
“I learned this from one of the Spanish women at the market. It seems like everyone is trading recipes there to get some variety with the food.” Isabel said.
Fatima was impressed with the new recipe and was disappointed in herself for not thinking of it with all the food she had available. She had tried mixing a few things together in the past but never received a good response from the family.
“This is really good.” Fatima said taking her third bite.
After the Day- Red Tide Page 19