When I saw the township handyman at another table, I excused myself to talk to him.
“Pete, this may seem insensitive at the moment, but can you still dig graves?” I asked. The town has their own cemetery and that’s one of Pete’s many jobs.
“I’ve already done that, early this morning,” he replied. “Burial will be this afternoon.”
I knew that Beatrice had been like a second mother to him and Leon lived across the street, so it must have been painful.
“Thank you for attending to that so quickly. You do realize there will be more deaths this winter, don’t you?” He nodded, looking sad. “Stick with early in the morning so no one sees you, dig a few more graves, maybe six, and cover them with tarps. It won’t be long when the ground will be too frozen to dig.”
“You really think we’re going to lose six more?”
“I hope not. I think we should be prepared in case we do, don’t you?” Pete nodded again and walked away. It was time for me to go, so I snuck out the back door to my car.
* * *
JOURNAL ENTRY: December 2
This evening I went across the road to my brother’s house. Today is Nancy’s seventy-second birthday. I took her a bottle of her favorite white wine that I bought months ago just for this occasion.
I canned a total of fourteen quarts of venison soup, which means two more weeks of survival. This soup has extra protein, an essential survival tool.
* * *
After the canner cooled down, I went into town again to see Jason. I’m not sure why I had the urgency, but I do miss the regular contact with him. I brought him some venison stew, a few boxes of pasta and a case of noodles. He’s lost a noticeable amount of weight. I think he is giving up his food for Jacob, which I can understand. Amanda wasn’t around and Jason wouldn’t say why, and he was grateful for the extra food.
I stopped at the post office to check for messages and I was surprised to see that I actually had mail. It was my winter tax bill. I laughed out loud, and then headed to the township hall to bring this up with Anna. She agreed that we should suspend the property taxes until the banks reopen.
I visited the Stone Soup Kitchen to see if there was anything that I could help with. I was pleased to see the twins there, Jean and Joan Heckla. Now in their mid-60’s, they have never been apart. I stayed for an hour and chopped vegetables and listened to the chatter. The speculation was Pastor Carolyn had gotten someone in the congregation to donate a large bucket of rice. They talked about how blessed they were and thankfully nobody knew who the donor was.
The weather was strangely mild today. It got up to fifty-two degrees, and very windy. All of the snow from earlier is now gone, and the roads are muddy.
* * *
JOURNAL ENTRY: December 4
What a difference in the weather from yesterday. I had to get up during the night to close my window. This morning it started out at thirty-eight degrees and has been dropping steadily. The skies are dark and heavy and the wind is biting cold. I think we’re in for more snow. Since I can’t get weather off of the internet anymore, I put a flag on a long stick and fastened it to one corner post in the garden so at least I can see which direction the wind is coming from. Right now it’s coming out of the north, which will bring snow off the Big Lake. A slight shift to the east will keep it here longer and produce lake effect snow, which is very common this time of year.
Lake effect occurs when the water is still relatively warm and the winds are cold. When the two clash, it creates massive amounts of snow.
Some days are plain boring. Today is one of them. I brought in a couple of days of wood and refilled the kindling bin. My drinking water is getting low, but I won’t be making the trek down to the well by myself anymore. I set up my Berkey water filtration system and started up the generator. I filled only one of the five gallon jugs. Five gallons will last me a couple of days and will give me time to take the other containers into town to fill at the township hall. With fewer people in town now, the water tower supplies nearly a week of the town’s needs. Pete has been running the township generator four hours every other day, so at least adequate water is not an issue.
Cold this morning! It’s only twenty-five degrees and a light dusting of snow. I was happy to see so little snow, as I had plans for the day. We aren’t directly affected by the earthquakes down south, yet we are still feeling the backlash. The town has come together to support each other, though there are still problems, lots of problems, and many of those are beyond my scope and training to do anything about.
I’m very worried about the guys on Eagle Beach. I haven’t heard from John since the cellphones went down and I promised not to come for his massages until he can pay me. Though I don’t give a tinker’s-damn about the money, a promise is a promise. Maybe I can casually stop in for a visit with Steve.
* * *
Before I headed to town today, I took the two buckets I set aside, and emptied the mixed beans. Since I left them in their individual bags, I lined them up on the floor so I could see the variety: kidney, pinto, Lima, northern and split peas. Then I poured half the rice into that bucket. I got four half pint canning jars from the other shed, and filled two with soy sauce and two with Worcestershire sauce from my gallon jugs. I nestled one of each jar down into the rice, and divided the beans up equally, filling the rice buckets. I put them both in the back of the car and tossed a towel over them. I got two dozen eggs from the cold pantry and set them on the car floor next to my purse, along with a dozen cans of tuna fish for Jason. Then I loaded up my water containers and went to the township hall.
I had to stop at Fram’s first to get some gas, I was getting pretty low. I signed for my weekly five gallons, and then parked across the street at the township hall. I shoved the covered buckets over to one side to make room for the water containers. After I filled them, Pete helped me load them into the car. He never even looked at the buckets. I used the town’s landline phone to call Kathy on her landline so she knew I’d be stopping by. Living in the basement like they’re doing, they’d never hear me knock and I really had to get some food to them. Our cell phones might not be working because of the lack of power, but these regular phones have been a godsend.
Bob was waiting for me with the garage open so I could use the interior back door, right next to the stairs going down. I handed him a bucket and followed him down.
“What’s this?” he asked when I handed Kathy a dozen eggs.
“A gift for my best friends,” I said, taking the bucket opener out of my pocket to pop the lid and expose the food. Bob didn’t say anything but he reached out and gave me a long hug. It made me think of how I miss John’s hugs.
“I know you’ve got plenty of water, and you can heat it on the grill. I don’t know how often you’ve cooked dried beans…” I did know, and that was never, “…so I’d suggest putting some beans in a pot, cover them with boiling water and let them soak overnight, then cook them. Meanwhile, you can at least have rice with some eggs. Don’t worry about the fresh eggs, the girls will keep laying them so I have spares. I’ll bring more when I can.”
Kathy came from under the blanket that she had wrapped around herself. She was wearing a turtleneck shirt, sweatshirt and sweat pants, with big pink fuzzy slippers that looked really warm.
“You were so right about stocking up. I should have listened to you.” I could see how thin her face was getting, “Thank you for not saying ‘I told you so’.”
I thought that her biggest thank you would be staying alive. “Say thank you by not telling a soul where you got the food. I don’t need anyone breaking my door down. I’d hate to have to shoot somebody,” I laughed.
“I know Christmas is still twenty days away, but can we come over?” Her lip quivered.
Bob put his arm around her and said to me, “James and Olivia both passed away a couple of days ago. They had no heat or food in the house.”
Kathy’s parents!
“Oh, Kath, I’m so sorr
y. Of course, please come over for Christmas. I have one ham left so we’ll have a nice dinner. Come early, stay late,” I offered, using one of Kathy’s favorite phrases. I was getting good at keeping up my cheery front. Inside I was sobbing, I really liked Kathy’s parents. I would mourn them later.
* * *
I drove over to Jason’s next. The roads were good for the most part. When I pulled into their driveway, I saw that Amanda’s car was still gone.
Jason met me at the door. “Oh, hi, Mom. When I heard the car I thought it might be Amanda.” I didn’t have to see his face to know he was disappointed that it was only me.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” I asked. He handed me an envelope. I set it aside. “She went into the city, didn’t she?” I asked. He nodded and cried.
At that point, I picked up the envelope and opened it. In Amanda’s neat scrawl, it read:
Jason, please keep one thing in mind as your read this: I love you with all my heart. I love Jacob with all my heart. But I also love my friends, and they need me more than you do right now. I’m taking the extra gas and going into Marquette to see them. I know that if I had waited until you were awake, you would have stopped me, and I have to do this. I have to be my own person and make my own decisions.
I know that you and Jacob will be fine without me. If I’m not back soon, you know your mom will take you and Jacob in. I wish I had a mother who loved me as much as your mom loves you.
I’ll be home soon.
Mandy
I was stunned that she would actually leave. It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen my son cry.
“When did she leave?”
“Last week.”
A week and he hadn’t told me.
“Do you want me to pull a few strings and see if we can find her?”
“No, she’ll come home when she’s ready,” he said heaving a big sigh.
I reached across the table and took his hand in mine. “Whenever you need to, Jason, bring Jacob and stay with me. Just don’t bring Downey,” I said, looking around for their little Shih Tzu dog. “Where is he?”
“Mandy took him with her.”
“Do you want to come with me now?” I asked while still holding his hand, wondering why she chose her dog over her husband and child.
“No, we’re okay for a while, now. Thanks for the extra food. Jacob loves rice and his scrambled eggs.”
* * *
Before going home I really needed to stop at Eagle Beach. I haven’t seen the guys or John at any of the township haunts, not the meetings, not the soup kitchen, not the church services. I knew Steve would take care of them the best he could, and I wondered how long could he do that?
When I stepped into the kitchen, Steve looked up from the bread he was kneading on the counter, and smiled sadly. “Allexa! It’s been too long since you’ve been by.” He dropped his voice into a whisper, eyes darting around. “The guys loved the turkey dinner. Thank you again.”
“Where is everyone?” I asked. The white trucks with the green leaf logo on the doors were very easy to spot, and there was only one in the parking area, along with Steve’s red pickup.
His hands stilled. “Most of them have left for Marquette. There’s only five here now. John’s down by the marina shore trying to catch some fish. I’m really worried about them. There isn’t enough food and they’re too stubborn to leave. After I bake this bread, it’s gone.” Just then the door opened, letting in a gust of frigid Lake Superior wind—and John. My heart thudded against my ribs at the sight of him.
“Hi,” I greeted him, smiling softly.
He looked up at the sound of my voice and smiled, those blue eyes sparkling. John absentmindedly handed Steve a stringer of three small fish and held out his arms while he walked toward me for a hug. Oh, that meant the world to me, and I soaked in the warmth of his embrace, despite knowing that for him it was platonic.
* * *
“Thought I would check in and let you know we’re hanging in there, and that we could use some supplies,” I said when I called Liz.
“Everyone needs supplies,” she sighed. “Let me know what you need most and if something comes up I’ll keep you in mind.”
“We need everything,” I laughed, “but I’d say gas would be the priority. With the Stone Soup Kitchen, the food is going further.”
“The what?” she asked. I explained about the kitchen, its meaning, and how everyone was working together. I neglected to mention that I lifted hunting restrictions because I was unsure if that was overstepping my limited authority. “That is a great concept. Anything else?” Liz questioned.
“Yeah, I need a favor,” I said and told her about how Amanda was missing. She asked for the make of the car and the addresses of where she was supposed to have gone.
“We have strict curfews in place. If she was caught, she might be in the detention center. I’ll see if I can find anything out. We’d rather you feed her than us,” she laughed sarcastically.
* * *
JOURNAL ENTRY: December 6
When I got home I tried to concentrate on the mundane, normal things. I fed and watered the chickens, brought in lots of wood and kindling, and cuddled Tufts for the longest time. It didn’t help. I still feel sad and helpless.
CHAPTER NINE
With power off now for quite a while, it was time to fall back on some of the things I learned while living deep in the woods during the seven years I lived without grid power. We always had refrigeration and ice for our drinks. Water frozen in dish pans will keep the refrigerator cool, exactly like it did that antique icebox I used in the woods, only better. A refrigerator is nothing but a big cooler, and the insulation is more efficient. I filled my ice cube trays and set them on top the hot tub. Like before, I’ll keep breaking them into a zip lock baggie and use when needed. Like riding a bike, there are some things we don’t forget how to do.
I moved what was left in the small 12 cubic foot upright freezer into coolers and set them on the back deck and shut the freezer off. It isn’t practical to continue running the generator just to keep the freezer going. There is little now to keep chilled: catsup, mustard, mayo, eggs, cheese and all the butter from the freezer. I still have a half head of garden cabbage, and I’m saving that for a special salad. The potatoes, onions, beets, turnips and two pumpkins I harvested from the garden are in the cold pantry. I even have a bag of apples! Maybe I’ll have baked apples for dessert on Christmas, or an apple pie.
* * *
JOURNAL ENTRY: December 7
It occurred to me while thinking about using the refrigerator like an icebox, that since the freezer is in the cold, unheated pantry, I could use that as the refrigerator. It sure will get cold enough in there even without ice. It also reminds me to ask Jason about building a spring house for the summer. We could do one down by the creek and have cold water constantly flowing through it. Or one could be built around the second well, once we get the hand pump hooked up and working. I wonder if it would be feasible to do both. Definitely need to bring that up to Jason, he’s got a great problem solving mind.
* * *
I was sitting in my rocker by the woodstove reading a romance novel when I heard a vehicle pull into the driveway. Tufts leaped from my lap, digging his back claws into my thigh before hitting the floor, did his usual growl and then hissed, slinked a few feet, hissed again and bolted for the bedroom. It was not like him.
Bill Harris got out of the deep blue extended cab four wheel drive truck. Considering Tuft’s reaction I went on alert. I don’t like Bill either. I reached down and made sure the steel bar was in place in the track of the sliding door. The door would now only open three inches. I waited until he knocked, let him wait a bit more, then I slid the door open enough to talk.
“What do you want, Bill?”
Without even the pretense of niceties, he said, “Hey, Allex. Listen, I know you’ve got food. I remember one of your solstice parties and you’ve got lots of supplies. We�
��re getting really hungry, how about sharing?”
A couple of years ago I held parties on the Solstice, partly to show my friends how comfortable we could be without power, if we were prepared for it. At that time Bill and his wife Marilyn were part of our card playing group.
“That was years ago, Bill. I don’t have any of that stuff left,” I lied. “I have nothing to share with you. Please, just go away and leave me alone.”
I started to close the door but he quickly reached for the edge and tried to shove it open. It stopped on the steel bar and he pulled his hand back. I closed the door and locked it. He glared at me through the triple-paned window with hatred and turned away. When he got to his truck, he opened the back door, instead of the driver’s door. My alert kicked into high gear.
The Journal: Cracked Earth Page 10