by N. C. Reed
“I just did it,” Olivia replied. “I had to do it, so I did it. I don't understand what you mean by 'cope'.”
“How you deal with the pressures that come with the situation you found yourself in after the storm,” Beverly explained. “You know what pressure is, Olivia,” she semi-chided. “You're a teenager in high school. Don't tell me you've never dealt with pressure.”
“School was nothing,” Olivia said softly, and Beverly sensed a crack in Olivia's facade.
“Compared to what you went through the last few months, I'd say that's an understatement,” Beverly nodded her agreement.
“Look, what do you want me to say?” Olivia asked, leaning forward, engaging Beverly without meaning to or even realizing it. “The night the sky caught fire my mom fell over dead in the front yard. Just. . .boom. Gone. One minute she's fine, the next she's gone. My sisters thought she was playing. I tried calling 911, but nothing worked. Cell phone, house phone, nothing. There was nothing.”
“What did you do?” Beverly asked carefully.
“I put Lindsey and Caroline to bed and then. . .I sat there a while, all night, with her, and then when it got daylight I wrapped my mother in her fa. . .favorite quilt, one her mother had made her when she was a girl she said, and I. . .I dug a hole in the back yard and I buried her. I covered the hole with boards for two days because I thought maybe she wasn't really dead and she'd wake up, but of course that was just wishful thinking. Once I knew she was dead I filled the hole in and then piled rocks from the creek on top.”
“How did you decide she was really dead?” Beverly asked.
“How do you think?” Olivia demanded, just short of surly. “What happens to dead things?”
“I see,” Beverly nodded, having gotten Olivia to open up a raw emotion. “Sounds like you did what had to be done.”
“I did,” Olivia nodded. “After that it was just taking care of my sisters. I. . .” she laughed suddenly. “I got us all ready to go to school the next day. Waited on the school bus until an hour after it should have been there. I let my sisters go back to sleep after that while I took care of things.”
“You realized that things weren't going to return to normal.”
“I didn't realize anything much,” the girl admitted. “I knew my mom was dead and there was no help. Lights were off everywhere, not just with us. I couldn't see any light, anywhere. We don't have any close neighbors. Maybe four or five miles to the nearest place. I couldn't make my sisters walk so far and I couldn't leave them alone so. . .so I made do, the best I could.”
“How long did you manage to stay there?” Beverly asked next.
“I don't know,” Olivia thought about it. “I…I kinda lost track of time. Caroline and Lindsey started in about Christmas and I just. . .just sort of picked a day and said it was Christmas, and gave them the gifts mom and dad had already got them. Wasn't much since most of it was in layaway but. . .it was something.”
“That was smart,” Beverly nodded. “Keeping things as normal as possible.”
“All I knew to do,” the teen shrugged again. It was a gesture of hopelessness as much as anything.
“When did you decide to leave home?”
“I don't know that either. I…the food ran out and the gas for the camp stove I was using was gone and so were the batteries in the lanterns, so. . .I knew there was water and food at the fire station, such as it was. I took them there and the heat was working so I built a fort around the heater and kept us warm. I went and stole food from two empty houses that were maybe. . .two miles away, I guess. I don't know what happened to the people that lived there, but there was no one home and no sign anyone had been there. I took a sauce pan and some soap and stuff, and anything I knew how to cook. I found some powdered milk in the first one so I took some snow and melted it, then used that to make cold milk for the girls. Even had some cereal I found.” She smiled at the memory of her sisters enjoying their first milk in a long time.
“You were trying even then to keep things as normal for them as you could,” Beverly said.
“It helped,” the girl nodded. “I read to them since there was no television. We sang because there was no music. They had kept asking about mom until I…I had to tell. . .tell them that she was de-dead,” Olivia began to cry softly. “I had to tell them so they'd stop asking me when she was coming back. I…I should have told them right away but it seemed easier not to, but it just made it h-h-harder when I had to break down and tell them the truth.”
Beverly moved her chair next to the teenager and placed a supporting arm around her. She was still dangerously thin and Beverly remembered Patricia telling her that Olivia had done without to make sure her sisters were fed with whatever they had.
“Olivia, listen to me,” Beverly said softly. “You did nothing wrong, even by not telling them right away. Even if they were angry about it, it wasn't wrong. You were in a terrible situation that you had no training or experience for. You had to do everything from scratch with only what you knew and you did wonderfully. I know it doesn't seem like it to you, but you did, I promise. Your sisters are alive and well right this minute and they have you to thank for that. Any anger they may feel at you has to be weighed alongside that. You did a great job.”
“It just doesn't seem like it, that's all,” Olivia admitted, wiping her eyes.
“I know sweetie,” Beverly nodded. “I had to tell my son that his father wasn't coming home,” Beverly shared. “It was hard to do because I was hurting too and had my own pain to deal with, but. . .I had to take care of Jonathon, too. Your sisters aren't your children, I know, but you had to care for them like they were.”
“I wish I hadn't had to,” Olivia sobbed. “I miss my mom.” With that she began to cry in earnest. Beverly held her tightly as the teen began to pour months of angst out in her tears, a release she had been unwilling and unable to allow herself until now. Safe at last and no longer solely responsible for the lives of her sisters, she could unburden herself. Months of tension and strain for which there had been no outlet other than more hard work, which just added more strain on her weakening frame as she starved herself to let her sisters eat, poured out of her as she sobbed uncontrollably.
“You did so good,” Beverly soothed as she held Olivia tight. “You did so good. You saved your sisters and because of you they will have a chance to grow up and still be healthy. You did without to feed them and keep them strong. You did wonderfully, Olivia. I promise you that you did. No one could have asked more from you, sweetie. Not your sisters, your mom, not even yourself.” The crying intensified at that and Beverly decided that was enough for today. Now she would just comfort a struggling teenager.
“You did good.”
-
“Is it just me or does Olivia look a lot better than when we found her?” Kade asked Gordy.
“Of course, she does, man,” Gordy resisted the urge to slap his friend. “Remember how she was-”
“That ain't what I mean, you dick,” Kade didn't resist and smacked Gordy across the back of his head as the two walked toward the far western reaches of the farm, on patrol. “Look at her skin and her face, man. She's finally putting some weight on and looking healthy again. I think she's gonna be okay.”
“You knew that,” Gordy objected.
“Did I?” Kade asked, looking at his friend. “Buried her mom, no idea where her dad might have been when the lights went out, took care of her sisters and starved herself to do it. . .do I need to go on?”
“No,” Gordy admitted, shaking his head. “I get it, man. I hadn't thought on it like you have, but I see what you mean.”
“I can't even imagine being in her place, man,” Kade shook his head.
“Me either,” Gordy agreed. “She's a strong one, no question.”
“No doubt,” Kade nodded. “No doubt.”
-
“So how are things working now?” Leon asked as Clay brought him up to speed.
“Much better for the most
part,” Clay answered. “We're a lot better organized now.”
“Good. Glad to hear it. Gonna get the crop in okay?”
“Dad's in charge of that,” Clay replied, remind Leon of how things were laid out now. “I'm sure he 'll get things done in short order, though. He's been doing it for years.”
“True,” Leon agreed. “What else is happening?”
“Just trying to get our feet on the ground,” Clay told him. “It's mostly odd and small jobs at the moment. Repairs to be done and moves to make.”
“Sounds like things are under control,” Leon nodded. “Good job.”
-
Things had been going fairly well, just as Clay had told Leon. Work details were getting things done and they were ready for planting whenever Gordon decided it was time to put the crop in. All in all, things were just fine.
Which of course was when the trouble came.
-
“Bossman, we got a convoy on the road from the Interstate,” Jody Thompson's voice came over the radio so quiet and calm that it always took a minute to realize he'd spoken.
“Report,” Clay said, gathering his gear even as he listened.
“I count two pickup trucks, then a car, followed by two semi-trucks, one with a stock trailer, and then a van. All the vehicles are older models that may likely have escaped damage from the Storm.”
“Sound the alarm, Tommy,” Clay ordered after no more than two seconds.
Over the farm an alarm code began sounding on all GMRS and FRS radios. The soldier group raced to their positions in case of trouble while others grabbed and counted children, securing them in safe places where they could be watched over. This was one area where there was no deficiency in, having been drilled into everyone's head over the previous months, and used more than once.
“Troy ready,” Vicki Tully's voice came over the radio.
“Home ready,” Ronny called, having checked all Sanders' residences aside from Leon's before disappearing into his own home where he would protect his wife and children.
“Zeus ready,” Brick's voice called from Leon's house. It had been an easy choice for a call sign for Leon. Irascible leader living on the high spot, always ready to hurl a lightning bolt. Clay had already assumed Brick would be watching over Leon. He had heard about the big man's rifle and apparent skill from Pancho. One day he'd have to find out where Leon found the big bouncer.
“Town ready,” Micah Webb called for the others.
“Check, copy all,” Clay replied. On another frequency a woman at each place was checking a roll of children, each place ensuring others of who was where. Unless there was a problem somewhere Clay wouldn't hear that discussion.
“Convoy now 1 Kay Mike and closing at about 20,” Jody called. The vehicles were now roughly one thousand meters away and approaching at an estimated twenty kilometers per hour.
“Roger that,” Clay replied. “Call it off,” he ordered.
Quickly and efficiently the soldiers, new and old alike, rattled off their team names, verifying that they were in position. Kade and Corey were hotfooting it to the cabin area, commonly called 'town', to back up the people on guard there. Zach and Gordy were on the watch around the Sanders' homes along with Mitchel Nolan and Clay. Abigail, having yet to complete her training, was covering from inside their house.
Jody Thompson was inside the cupola on watch and Heath Kelly was atop the rugged tower behind Gordon and Angela's house. Tandi, Nate, and Vicki were at the Troy farm, and Jose and Titus were covering from the bush between the two homes.
“Stand by,” Clay called when everyone had answered. “They may not be here for trouble and might have come to trade.”
No one believed that for a minute, but didn't bother to state the obvious over the radio. The older soldiers knew when to clown and when not, and the younger ones were still too new to know you could use the radio to clown around on occasion.
“Five Cee Mikes and still closing,” Jody reported. Five hundred meters. No one said anything. There was nothing to say or do, just to wait for the vehicles to reach them. When they did, they would either pass by, or stop. No one expected them to pass by.
Which left them waiting to see what they would do when they stopped.
“Everyone go silent,” Clay ordered in case anyone wasn't using their ear mike. No one acknowledged an order like that so the radio remained silent.
“Slowing,” Jody reported. “Six visible in first truck, five in the second. All carrying long arms. Most seem to be wearing dark colors but I can't see a discernible uniform.”
“Copy that,” Clay replied. He was standing out front with Gordy behind him and to the left, positioned to protect Gordon and Angela's home. Nolan was further to Clay's left, almost to the cut and in the brush. Zach was in the hide to the far right, where Clay had been for his role against the Peyton Posse.
“They're definitely slowing, preparing to stop. Out.” Unless Clay asked for information, Jody wouldn't report anymore unless there was a change in the approaching target or another problem arose.
Clay could see them now, along the road. With leaf cover still a few weeks away, visibility was higher than usual. The two trucks in front were indeed older models. Clay recognized an eighty-two model Chevrolet, and a seventy-nine Ford. The car was a huge Lincoln Continental, likely a seventy-four or so, Clay guessed, with a tacky maroon paint job.
The two trucks were both run of the mill Freightliners, but older. The kind of trucks that would haul saw dust and wood chips to the paper mill. Past their prime but still running, and because of their age still able to run now.
The van looked like an old work van, white and with a storage rack still on top, complete with large plastic storage pipe.
“Well this is gonna be a cluster,” he heard Nolan mutter and nodded without replying. He was right.
The vehicles came to a stop, air releasing from the brakes on the two semi-trucks. As soon as they came to a stop the men in the back of the trucks began to dismount. Unlike the previous visit from Peyton's posse, this bunch at least showed some discipline, forming into two groups of five while the last man walked toward the car. When he got there, he opened the rear door.
“Van is dismounting another five, all with long arms,” Jody's voice was soft in Clay's ear. “Driver is still inside. No sign of crew served or other heavy weapons so far.” Clay clicked his mike twice to answer rather than reply out loud.
A man was exiting the big Continental's open door. He was tall and slender, dressed much nicer than the others who were just wearing casual work uniforms for the most part. A few wore jeans but not many. The man out of the car, though, was wearing a suit, complete with vest and tie. He carried what looked like a clipboard with him. He looked around him, nodding to himself as if he had heard the answer to some silent question. Finally spotting Clay he began walking toward him with purposeful steps.
“Are you Gordon Sanders?” the man demanded.
“Who the hell are you?” Clay asked rather than reply. “And you can just wait right there,” he said to the men who were beginning to follow the dandy in the suit. “You're trespassing.”
“I don't think you understand, boy,” the man in the suit smirked. “I represent the Citizen's Committee for Reconstruction. We have the authority to go anywhere we need to, to assess taxes.”
“Say what now?” Clay knew his face looked incredulous.
“I said I represent the Citizen's Committee for Reconstruction,” the man seemed to take relish in repeating it.
“And I'm here to collect your taxes.”
FROM THE AUTHOR
If you know someone who battles wild land fires, or serves as a volunteer firefighter in your rural community, tell them thank you once in a while. Buy them a soft drink, or maybe lunch. Let them know you appreciate what they do.
Because you'd sure miss them if they didn't.
I hope you enjoyed this installment of the Sanders Saga. This particular book was about two months past
its projected finish date due in large part to returning home from a family visit to find that a pipe had frozen and then burst in my hall bath. This resulted in the need to replace the floor in that bath and the adjoining bedroom. Good work if you can get it.
Hopefully the next time we won't be seeing that kind of delay, and the Sanders Family will return in FIRESTORM. Until then, thank you for reading and may you be blessed.
NCR