Winter Fall

by Byron Tucker

  * * *

  Sam sat down to a table filled with heaping plates of hot food, with the rest of his family seated around him. While the selection of food was a bit odd, ranging from blueberry waffles to baked ham to candied yams to beef stroganoff to Waldorf salad, it all looked delicious and he was more than ready to gorge on the cornucopia of food, as were the others. However, Sam wanted to celebrate this moment for what it was, a time they could be together as a family in a precious moment of happiness.

  Holding out his hands, he said, “Before we eat, I want us to take a moment to be grateful for what we have at this moment, that we are together safe and sound, having triumphed over great hardship, as well as our determination to start a new life in Costa Rica. I know all of this has been very hard on all of us, myself included. But together, as a family, we will get through this. That I can promise from the bottom of my heart.” Sam looked up to see a tear roll down Irene's cheek. “If there's anything that brings joy to me, it's your cooking, Irene. And now, let's eat!”

  Jimmy and Eliza responded with a round of applause as Irene wiped her tear-moistened eyes with a napkin, her mouth forming a slight smile. “Thank you, Sam, for being strong for us. If it wasn't for you, and everybody else around here that's done their part, we'd not be here.”

  Sam beamed back a smile, preparing to shovel a forkful of stroganoff into his mouth. “Thank you.” He turned to his son, scarfing down great mouthfuls of food as quickly as he could chew and swallow. “I want to apologize for the way I've treated you lately. There's no excuse for what I did to you in the cellar.”

  “I deserved it,” Jimmy said in between bites. “I was being an ass, and you know it. I guess hunger brings out the beast in us, huh?”

  So very true. “Just remember, Jimmy, that we're a team, and we're going to have to work together as a team to prepare for our journey south. That means doing what we tell you to do, without exception. May I have that assurance from you?”

  Jimmy nodded in the affirmative, his mouth too stuffed to speak.

  Sam laughed along Eliza and Irene. “I'll stop talking. I know we're all hungry, so let's just eat.”

  Silence descended on the dining table, the four of them eating with gusto.

  Sometime later, when Sam started feeling a bit full and the pace of his eating slowed, he looked up at his wife and asked, “How's Eliza's medicines holding up?”

  Irene took a moment to look at Eliza before replying. “Now that we're back down to once per day on the nebulizer, I have enough ampules to last until Christmas.”

  Sam swallowed a nervous lump in his throat, suddenly losing the desire to keep eating. “You mean Christmas exactly, or somewhere around then?”

  “Today is the fifth, right?”

  Sam glanced over at Eliza looking at him with an expectant expression. “Yes, that is correct.”

  “We have twenty ampules left. That's twenty days, provided we don't have to do more than one per day. That takes us to Christmas Day.”

  “The day the boat leaves for Costa Rica.”

  “But the trip from there to Limon should only take three days,” Jimmy interjected.

  “That's cutting it awfully close,” Sam said.

  “And we still have no idea if we'll be able to get medicines once we get down there,” she said. “It just feels like we're jumping off the cliff here.”

  “We really have no choice but to try, as we'll certainly not be able to get any supplies around here.”

  Irene nodded with a grim expression. “I agree. We have no choice.”

  Sam looked over at Jimmy, who was still chomping away, plowing through a heaping pile of Waldorf salad. “If you have a mind to be wrapping things up there, we need to get our butts over to the shop to help your uncle with the motorhome.”

  Jimmy laughed through a mouthful of food. “I still can't believe he's sticking a snowplow in front of that thing.”

  “Well, it's the only way we'll be able to travel on unplowed roads. In any case, he's going to need our help to put that thing on there. So let's wrap it up, son.”

  Jimmy shoved two more bites into his mouth and pushed his plate aside. “Sure thing, Dad. I'm pretty stuffed anyhow.”

  Looking into his son's eyes, Sam realized that they had regained that joyful twinkle, the eyes of the bright, level-headed, good-hearted son that he had been accustomed to before all of this began.

  It was good to have him back.

  Jimmy's Journal Entry, December 9th, 2019

  I'm happy to report that hope is in the air, like the new flowers of spring coming up. With the totally awesome news Uncle Ryan got last night on the ham radio, we're are totally set for our move to Costa Rica.

  They could only talk for ten minutes before they lost the skip, but Henry Adams was able to tell him that he's confirmed our passage from Mobile on the freighter, us and the motorhome. We'll need that to live in down there, so that's a huge plus. Not only that, he's gotten clearance from Costa Rican immigration officials for us to move there, at a price of twenty-five ounces of gold each. Expensive, yeah, I know. But Uncle Ryan is fronting the gold for that, and to pay for our passage too, which won't be cheap either. Plus he's giving us bundles of cash and MREs for the trip to Mobile, as he thinks we're going to have to buy our way past a lot of roadblocks, plus getting gas along the way.

  So yeah, all of that is set, and we are go for departure on the 18th, which will get us there by the 22nd or 23rd, when the ship is supposed to be in port. That'll give us a couple of extra days' leeway, too. We're actually leaving here on the 17th, which is a week from tomorrow, as Uncle Ryan and Nora are going to accompany us to Rhinelander to hook up with a guy who'll probably have extra gas to sell us, like in those jerry cans. Uncle Ryan is giving us eight full ones, which we'll carry on top, but if we could get more, that'd be great. The first leg will be like a test run, to make sure that it'll be possible for us to go the rest of the way to Mobile on our own. Like we have any choice, as we have to get Eliza to a place where we can get more meds for her, or she'll die. :(

  But we're gonna do it, I know it. Dad knows it, Mom knows it, Eliza knows it, and Uncle Ryan is working really hard to make it happen for us, by turning our motorhome into a real battle-axe. Me and Dad have been working on putting sheets of acrylic leftover from his old greenhouses over all the windows of the vehicle, to give us protection against people shooting at us, and Uncle Ryan's in the process of welding a snowplow to the front of the motorhome. Dad didn't think it'd be possible to do that, but I think he's about to be proven wrong. It'll have an inside control, to raise it up or down, and when it's down, we should be able to plow our way through two feet of snow, no sweat. I think we're gonna have to plow our way through some road blocks too, but Dad won't let me talk about that.

  It's been really cool working on that too, as Uncle Ryan is teaching me some welding skills. It's not hard, really, you just have to hold the torch just right to get a good weld. He says I'm good at it, so that's pretty awesome. We're also making a platform on top of the motorhome to store the extra gas and supplies, with it being covered up as we're traveling. We only have a week to finish all of this work, but with the four of us working, I think we'll be done with time to spare.

  As for Mom, she's doing WAY better, now that she's back in the kitchen again, doing what she loves. Actually, we all are, as we're able to eat as much as we want now, so we're like back to our old selves. Like I told Dad a few days back, not having enough to eat really brought out the monster in me. I know I was a total asshole about the food, but it was like I couldn't control myself. I was so hungry, man, you have no idea how bad being super-hungry is like. But since we're leaving soon, Nora gave us the clearance to eat as much as we like. Now that she's done that, I actually kinda like her again (wink, wink.) I know she's way older than me, and she's tight with Uncle Ryan, but man, she sure has a hot body. It's hard not to keep looking at her as we're working on the motorhome. She really is a cool gal, she's just used to being
in control and all.

  I wish we knew more about where Henry has that ranch. Uncle Ryan visited there like twenty-plus years ago, and he says it's beautiful. Henry has a lot of land, and it goes all over, like up into the mountains and stuff. He says there's plenty of food down there, so that's not a problem, and electricity too. I'm sure we'll have to work hard to grow our own food, but at least we'll be able to work outdoors in decent weather. It's about to drive me totally nuts not being able to go outside, except for the short trip between the house and shop. It's running fifty to sixty below now, plus wind chill. It's so cold that bare skin starts hurting immediately when exposed to it. “Antarctic cold” as Uncle Ryan puts it. Henry said it's running in the fifties and sixties down there at the moment, with lots of clouds and rain. I'll certainly take that over what we have up here, that's for sure.

  I just hope we're able to get hold of the meds Eliza needs, like right when we get there. I try not to worry about that too much, as it's not doing me any good, but I just can't bear the thought of losing my sister. None of us can, so we just try not to think about it too much. At least she's doing a bit better now, she blew a 380 on the puff tube today, so that's good for her. Mom thinks if she can get it up to 450, she'll try and skip a day on the nebulizer, see if she can get by with rescue inhalers. The longer we can stretch that out, the better off we'll be. (Duh.)

  Other than that, I'm feeling really good about things, as we have hope now, instead of the despair we had before. It's going to be a difficult, risky journey to get to Mobile, as we really have no idea of what to expect, but we'll be going down there on a wheeled fortress. With that plow up front, we'll be able to blast our way through anything. Not to mention having bullet-proof windows. Uncle Ryan's going to give me more shooting lessons too, and he's going to give us a bunch of guns to take with us, as he has more than enough to keep for himself, especially with all the extra guns from the raiders we shot. So if we have to defend ourselves along the way, it's not going to be too much of a problem.

  It's getting late, and I'd better get to sleep, so I'll wrap up. Until next time...

  Chapter 23

  Ryan stood back a few steps in front of the motorhome and motioned to Jimmy to lower the blade. The steel plow dropped into position on its unwieldy mount, coming to a halt about three inches above the concrete floor. It sat a little higher than he would have liked, but it would suffice. They'd be running on chains anyhow, so going over a three-inch layer of snow wouldn't be too much of a problem. Especially compared to a foot or two, which would make it impossible to move at all, chains or not. He moved his hand up and drew a finger across his throat, as he didn't want the engine running any longer than was necessary in the enclosed shop.

  After Jimmy shut off the motor, he came bounding out of the hulking vehicle, which looked none too pretty at the moment. Pointing to the plow, he asked, “So, how does it work, Uncle?”

  He smiled at him. “As well as we need it to. Sits a bit high, but it'll be okay. Let's just hope you don't have to plow the whole way to Alabama.”

  “Yeah, really. That'd eat up some gas, huh?”

  Ryan let out a sigh, once again feeling unwelcome guilt about sending his brother's family away like this. No matter how much they desperately needed medicines for Eliza, or that they had a huge desire to be in a place where they could focus on living instead of mere survival – he still felt bad about this. According to Nora, they had a greater than even chance of not making it to Mobile at all, and provided they did make it down there, there was the possibility that the freighter wouldn't be there, or that the captain would take on a higher-paying load, denying passage to the family. Then what would they do? Go on to Florida to the death camps? Stay put in Mobile, living off of MREs while they lasted? There was no denying that everything would have to go just right to make this happen, and there were so many things that could go wrong, basically all of them leading to one inevitable conclusion. Death. He just couldn't shake the feeling that he was sending his brother's family to certain doom.

  “What's the matter, Uncle?” Jimmy asked, running his hand along the edge of the plow. “Something's eating you?”

  He shook his head, not wanting to divulge his thoughts. “No, I'm just tired. We've worked really hard on this, haven't we?”

  “Yeah, but look how awesome it looks now. There will be no stopping this bad boy, will there?”

  Ah, to have the confidence and swagger of youth. Returning the smile, he said, “I think you're right, it does look pretty formidable. I don't think you'll have a problem getting it to Mobile.”

  “You coming with us to Rhinelander will give us a good start, huh?”

  “Yes, to make sure you guys will be okay going farther on your own.”

  “Who's this guy that we'll be hooking up with to buy extra gas?”

  Ryan chuckled, urging Jimmy to follow him around to the wood burner so he could toss more wood in it. “He's an old prepper buddy of mine, goes by Big Joe. He's probably even more prepared than I've been.”

  “Why do they call him Big Joe?”

  “Because he's a big mo-fo. About six feet, ten inches tall, a bit on the heavy side, too.”

  Jimmy flinched back a bit. “Whoa, that's scary.”

  Ryan laughed. “Oh, he's a nice guy. He's married, but no kids. I just hope he's got some extra gasoline to spare, even if it's just to top off the tank.”

  Jimmy pointed to the rear of the motorhome as Ryan dumped more wood into the maw of the wood burner. “How many gallons does it hold anyhow?”

  “Eighty, plus two or three extra that you can't really count on. The jerry cans we've got on top represent another forty gallons, so that's a full tank and a half you'll be starting out with. If the roads are clear, you could probably manage between six and seven miles to the gallon, probably about half that if you have to plow snow.

  Jimmy bit his lower lip as he continued to stare at the vehicle. “We'll have to get gas at least a couple times along the way.”

  “Let's just hope Big Joe has enough to get you guys to the halfway point at least.”

  Jimmy turned to look at him. “We do have that siphon tube we can use, to suck gas out of abandoned cars.”

  “True, but that'll be a last resort, since that'll be a difficult and time-consuming way to obtain gasoline. Hopefully you'll come across some active fueling stations when you get further south. It's a good thing this thing uses regular gas and not diesel, as that'll probably be a lot more difficult to obtain.”

  “Yeah, I'm sure we will. Or trade some of our food for gas.”

  “Yes, exactly.” Ryan pointed toward the front of the shop. “Put your coat on, we need to help Nora pull all the MREs from the cellar, so we can sort out the ones that have short expiry dates. Those will be the ones you'll be taking with you.”

  “Sure thing, Uncle.”

  Ryan watched his nephew rocket past the side of the motorhome, the teen filled with just as much energy as ever. That's a good thing, as he's going to need it.

  As Jimmy didn't wait for him, darting out the shop door, Ryan hung back, craving a cigarette. Nora disapproved of him smoking in the shop, or anywhere for that matter, but since she wasn't around, he tapped one out of the pack he had laying on the table and lit it. Allowing the feeling of cool relief to spread through his body, Ryan did his best to stifle the guilty feeling that kept popping up in his mind. I sure hope we're doing the right thing here.

  He glanced at the calendar pinned to the wall, checking the current date. It was the fifteenth now, which meant they'd be leaving for Big Joe's in just two days' time, and the day after that, the Durants would be on their own.

  He took another, longer drag on the cigarette in a futile attempt to quell the rising tide of anxiety within him.

  * * *

  The whites of Sam's eyes could easily be seen as Ryan had him sit down across from him at the dinette table of the motorhome. On the table between them were piles of cash, gold and silver, in addition to th
e locked case he had put there. Pointing to the case, Ryan said, “That's your fare passage from Mobile. Guard it with your life.”

  “How do you know this captain won't ask for more money?”

  Ryan let out a small sigh. Too many things to go wrong. “We don't, really, but this is a friend of Henry's supposedly, so hopefully that'll be enough.” He pointed a finger at a cluster of four stacks of twenty-five gold coins each. “This is what you'll need to get into Costa Rica. We'll have to find a safe place for those as well, as it cannot be touched until you arrive at Limon. That still leaves you with fifty gold coins and ten pounds of silver, plus the cash.”

  Sam shook his head vigorously. “That's way too much. You're giving us so much already. I can't possibly take any more from you.”

  “This merely puts a dent in my holdings, which hasn't exactly proved itself to be very useful. Chances are you'll need to buy your way to Mobile, since groups of citizens or even the government will have roadblocks. They may want cash, or precious metals.”

  “Or food.”

  Ryan nodded. “Yes, which is why I've decided to give you a dozen cases of the MREs. Don't be surprised if you have to give away all of it to get your family all the way to Mobile. There's a lot of hungry people out there, so that should go a long ways to smooth your passage.”

  Sam continued to shake his head as he glanced downward at the money. “I just feel incredibly guilty about all of this. Not only us eating through a large portion of your food reserves, but you giving us so much on top of that.”

  “Ha, there's no reason for both of us to feel guilty. I feel bad just for sending you guys away like this.”

  “Oh no, you're not sending us away. We're the ones that are faced with no choice but to leave. I feel incredibly grateful for everything you've done to make it possible to go to Costa Rica, we all do. Hell, my son started crying last night when we were talking about how great of an uncle you've been to him.”