The Journal: Cracked Earth

by Deborah D. Moore

  “Are you sick?” I asked him. His eyes were bloodshot, but he shook his head. “Have you slept? Eaten? You can’t help anyone, Gray, if you don’t take care of yourself first.”

  “There’s no food to eat and every time I close my eyes, someone else dies.”

  “How many so far?”

  “Pete’s mom was the first. He hasn’t come back since he buried her yesterday,” he said, taking a struggled breath through his mask. “Five more have passed since then. The worst are the kids. We lost two of them.” Gray’s voice broke on that.

  “I’ll be back within an hour,” I said and I left.

  * * *

  When I returned with two cases of oriental noodles Gray asked where I had gotten the food. I said I picked up some supplies from Marquette. He didn’t really care as long as he had something hot to fill the emptiness.

  * * *

  JOURNAL ENTRY: January 15

  What I saw yesterday, I still can’t get it out of my head. Half of the town is sick and dying. Dying! I see that mattress with unmoving bodies in my sleep, only in my sleep the mattress gets bigger and the pile gets taller.

  John had to wake me a couple of times during the night to pull me out of the nightmares.

  * * *

  I technically did not have the authority, but I ordered two firefighters, geared up with hazmat-suits, to load all of the sick into the two EMS vehicles and drive them, and an exhausted Gray, to Marquette General Hospital.

  I found Pete at his house, drunk and weeping. At fifty-five years old, he was the baby in his family. He was the one who had never married and the one who stayed at home to take care of his aging mom. I left him alone with his grief.

  Moose Creek is like a ghost town now. No one is on the street anymore and no one is in any of the offices. The Stone Soup Kitchen is also empty; not even Carolyn was at the church anymore. The only way to reach anyone is to go to their house and hope that they have the strength to answer the door.

  I was surprised when Anna answered the door, and relieved when she said she was doing much better and should be back in the office in a few days. Anna had lived in Moose Creek her entire life and knew how brutal the winters were. Like many of us, she had stocked up on some of the necessary supplies in November. They were eating. It may not have been well, but they weren’t starving.

  Patty was next. I was shocked when Carl answered the door. John was beside me instantly with his Beretta aimed. Buddy took a step back with his hands opened wide. I can’t help wondering why he was released from jail. Attempted murder is still a crime.

  “I’ve no quarrel with you, either of you,” he said, casting a worried glance at John. “I was wrong and I admit it. Okay? So what do you want?”

  “I’m just checking on Patty, Carl. She was one of the first exposed with this flu and I want to know how she is.” I refused to back down to this nasty, angry piece of work.

  “I’m doing better than I thought I would be,” Patty replied from behind her husband. She laid a hand on his shoulder to move him aside slightly. She must be one with a natural immunity that could still pass the virus. “Maybe you should go, Allexa, and leave us alone.”

  * * *

  “Karen, can I be honest? You look like crap.” I said when we arrived at her house.

  “Thanks,” she coughed.

  “Flu?”

  “I’m not sure. It might be only a cold. It started a couple of days ago, but it hasn’t gotten any worse. I’m just really tired, drained, ya know? Either way, you need to keep your distance. You don’t want even a simple cold.” She shivered. “On a good note, Ken is improving every day. He was really bad off for a while. Provided he stayed upright, he could breathe. He’s been sleeping in his recliner and would have been in hog heaven if he weren’t so sick. We’re both really weak.” She pulled the hood of her jacket up and shivered again.

  “Is there anything that you need? That I might be able to get, that is,” I asked, not knowing the level of their supplies or how well prepared they were.

  “We could use some food, but since everyone needs some, that might be asking for the moon.” She coughed again.

  “Well, funny you should ask. I happened to have gotten my hands on some supplies. I took what I could.”

  John opened the back door of the car and took out two cases of oriental noodles. When Karen saw the soup, I thought she was going to cry. I reached in my pocket and tossed her a bottle of aspirin.

  “If you step inside and close the door, we’ll leave this on the porch so you don’t have to come out this far,” I said before we left.

  * * *

  “Nahna! Nahna! It’s growing!” Jacob exclaimed while pulling me over to the seed sprouter when we arrived back home. Sure enough, some of the seeds were showing signs of sprouting. The mung beans were splitting apart and the wheat berries were well on the way with a hint of green showing. I couldn’t help but feel good over his joyous discovery.

  Jason volunteered to make a tuna noodle casserole for dinner and I gladly accepted. I’m not sick, though after all that has happened I’m exhausted to my core. I’m beginning to question how much more I can take. I’m so tired, all the time.

  * * *

  JOURNAL ENTRY: January 17

  I’m having nightmares of bodies, piles and piles of bodies. Last night Bill Harris emerged from the growing number of lifeless arms and legs stacked on the one sagging mattress. As he pushed his way to the top, he pulled his shotgun out and aimed at me. I froze when he pulled the trigger, coughing silently through half of a face.

  * * *

  John shook me awake.

  “What’s the matter, Allex? You were thrashing about like you were being chased!” He wrapped his strong arms around me and held me close while the trembling subsided.

  “It was just a nightmare. I’m okay now,” I said, knowing I couldn’t tell him about what I saw. I couldn’t tell him about Harris either, at least not yet.

  * * *

  I didn’t go to the office today because it didn’t appear that there would be much to do. Everything was shut down. I pulled the rocker up near the woodstove, took a spicy romance novel off of the shelf and read for about an hour.

  * * *

  I guess I was testy last night, I don’t remember. John and Jason are now avoiding me. I’ve always been one to withdraw when upset or under stress. I don’t rant and rave. I don’t yell or lash out. Maybe Jason warned John that’s what he was seeing: my withdrawal. I don’t know. Reading is good therapy, being busy is better. I pulled out my favorite cookbook, Cooking in the Woods.

  I thought of dessert first. A fruit focaccia would be good. I checked the pantry and decided on peaches I canned last summer. Last summer seems like a lifetime ago. I assembled the sweet and rich dessert, mixing, chopping and set it aside to rise. I will do a glaze when the focaccia goes into the oven.

  For dinner I decided on chicken patties with mushrooms in wine sauce and basmati rice. Everything except the rice was canned over the summer. Having the chickens for fresh eggs made certain dishes so much easier. I assembled all the ingredients, then I saw Jason whispering something to John, and John smiling.

  The chicken patties, made with dried herbs and homemade bread crumbs mixed with fresh eggs, onions and garlic, then pan fried, were really tasty, especially nestled into the rice and topped with the mushroom sauce. Jacob had plain rice and scrambled eggs. Between the four of us, there was not one piece of peach focaccia left. We all need the calories.

  Taking care of my family is what I do best, and is definitely therapeutic for me. I slept well for the first time in many days.

  * * *

  JOURNAL ENTRY: January 18

  Even sleeping well, I’m having strange dreams. Last night I was back at my home in the woods, an off-grid house set in the middle of 240 acres of woods, private and serene. Sam was there, charming as ever, but was also sad and distant. Out of the back window, I saw that an area had been cleared and there was a power pole. I
asked him about it. He said that was the only way. I didn’t know what he meant. I told him that we never should have left there. I went back to that window and saw a subdivision containing sixteen houses, in various stages of construction, all close to each other near my wonderful, once remote home. It made my heart hurt.

  When I woke up, I was sad and puzzled by what the dream might mean.

  * * *

  I asked John if he would like to make a social call with me. I hadn’t seen my friend Dawn since this whole mess started. I realized I worried about my friends who were ill-prepared for any disaster, long or short term. Dawn didn’t fit that. During the heat of the summer past, she, Guy and I would sit on their deck overlooking the lake and sip cocktails while I answered their questions about prepping. They were the last ones I was concerned about.

  The mile long road leading to their house was snow covered with occasional deep drifts. My all-wheel-drive car barely made it through a few spots. We pulled into their long driveway and I parked in full view of the house. I stepped out and away from the car, my hands out from my sides, empty, and called to her. I saw a slight movement at a window. A moment later, the front door opened and Dawn came running out, throwing her arms around me, while Guy stayed at the door with his rifle in hand. John got out of the car, pulled his gun and everyone froze.

  “John, Guy’s rifle is not a threat to us. Please holster that,” I said gently. Once the Beretta was back on his hip, I felt the tension drain from Dawn. I moved to John, slipped my arm through his and pulled him over to meet my friends.

  * * *

  Dawn’s daughter and son-in-law and the four grandchildren had made it to the remote location from a neighboring town. Shortly after the earthquakes, Kara and Matt dropped the kids off with Guy and Dawn, and went back to their house to refill the van with whatever would fit.

  “Oh, Allexa, it’s so good to see you!” Dawn exclaimed with excitement. “I’ve been wondering how you were doing. We decided to just hunker down for a couple of months. Then when the neighbors all left, we knew it had been a good choice. Now we’ve got this whole end of the lake to ourselves. Matt and Guy have a regular routine going, for hauling water up from the lake and for ice fishing. It’s been a real bitch keeping the hole open with these temperatures, but it’s working. And thank you for recommending the water filtration system! We would be lost without it. Can I get you a glass of wine?”

  “I knew I didn’t have to worry about you. Thank you, I’d love a glass,” I smiled at her. “Without you going anywhere, you haven’t been exposed to the flu, then?”

  “Flu? What flu?” She looked alarmed as she handed me a crystal glass filled with a ruby liquid.

  I explained what was going on in town, and in Marquette. “Don’t worry, we aren’t sick, and whenever I’ve been near anyone, I’ve used full precautions.”

  I knew that with her medical background, Dawn had prepped heavy on medical supplies. I asked if she might be willing to help out.

  “At this point, I’m thinking only about key people. You know Ken and Karen Gifford. They’ve been pulled out of retirement,” I explained. “Ken is recovering from the flu and a gunshot wound. Karen was grazed in the same shootout and now has a bad cold. If nothing else, they need their bandages redressed.”

  Dawn looked down. I could tell that she didn’t want to get involved.

  “Just think about it, okay? I know you considered your talent and knowledge to be a bartering tool. This might be a good time to test it.”

  I left it at that.

  John and Guy had slipped away, giving Dawn the opportunity to ask me some questions.

  “Where and when did you meet John? You’ve been single, unattached, all the years I’ve known you. Tell me all about him!” Dawn probed, pouring more wine in my glass, and then she grinned at my embarrassment.

  “There’s really not much to tell, Dawn. He’s one of the miners, and I’ve been giving him a massage every week for over a year. We’ve been developing feelings for each other for quite a while, but it would have been improper to have a relationship. Of course, all that propriety became moot with the disaster shutting us off from everything. About a month ago he showed up at my door and he’s been with me ever since.” I shrugged my shoulders, not knowing how to hide my discomfort in discussing my private life, even with a close friend.

  “Well, I think it’s wonderful that you finally have someone!” Dawn gushed. “Tell me what’s going on in town.”

  We chatted for another hour, with me doing most of the talking, filling her in on various events and mutual friends.

  It really was getting late. That’s when I noticed that Guy and John were still nowhere around. We found them in the basement workshop. When Guy found out that John knew so much about guns, he asked for help. There they were, a rifle disassembled between them. John had just finished adjusting the trigger tension and was reassembling it when I mentioned that it was time to go.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I can’t avoid the office completely, though I’d like to these days. After our morning breakfast of toast and coffee, John and I left around ten o’clock for town. I’m still thankful I switched over to almost all battery clocks years ago, so I can still keep track of the time.

  I was delighted to find Anna in her office. She was still tired, yet managed to give me a weak smile.

  “Allexa, I don’t know how to thank you for all you’ve done this past week,” she said. Then she coughed. I backed up and pulled up the mask that was already hanging around my neck.

  “It was only a tickle, don’t freak.” She took a sip of bottled water.

  “I’m not freaking, just being cautious,” I said through the mask. “So what’s the story with Pete? Is he back? I can understand how upset he was about Agnes’ death, but we need him.”

  “He’s back, with a mega-hang over!” she chuckled. “The school is now empty of—”

  “Okay, that’s good,” I interrupted, having a flashback of that mattress piled with bodies. “Are there any messages for me?”

  “Nope. Were you expecting something?” She raised her eyebrows in question.

  “I asked Tom about getting us some food out here. I was hoping for a note that said when it would arrive. Though, like with the diesel, it might just show up. By the way, if that happens, it will go to the EMS building next door. Someone is always still there, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, Gray and Patty are taking alternate shifts. I sure hope something arrives soon,” she said pushing herself away from the desk. I backed up again. “Okay, I’ll stay here until you leave.”

  I laughed. “Gray’s back then?” Last I’d heard he went to town with the twenty flu victims.

  “Oh, yeah, he didn’t stay at the hospital. He came back with the drivers. I understand he had a couple packs of noodle soup and then slept for a day, and is doing better now that he gets regular rest.” She paused. “That was the right call, you know, sending everyone to the hospital. They would have all died here.”

  * * *

  I climbed in the car, reached across the seats, and gave John a kiss. “How about a road trip?” I asked.

  “Okay,” he said after he pushed his knit cap back, rubbing his hands over his balding scalp, a movement that is so John, and tells me he’s pausing to think. “Where to?”

  “Marquette.” I grinned. “I think it’s time that we see what’s going on, firsthand.”

  * * *

  A hundred yards before the railroad tracks that take coal from the docks, there was a roadblock, manned by the Michigan National Guard.

  “Ma’am, your business in Marquette?” asked the young girl in uniform.

  I pulled my emergency management identification from the visor and handed it to her. “I’m on my way to see Tom White at the Post,” I said, hoping she would take my bluff. She nodded, scribbled something down on her clipboard and handed back my ID. Then she looked into the car at John. Before she could ask I said, “He’s my bodyguard. Is Was
hington open, or should I stick to Wright?”

  “Washington is open, Ma’am, but Wright Street is safer,” she said, stepping away from the car to let us pass.

  Washington was open but not safe? My curiosity was peaked. I followed CR 695 to the end and turned onto Lakeshore away from the power plant. It was always a pleasant drive; now it was eerily void of traffic. I turned right onto Washington Street, Marquette’s main drag.

  The movie theater was boarded up and the marquis still showed a movie from months ago. The bank on the corner had an armed guard stationed at the door, which meant the bank was still open. An entire block of stores was now blackened rubble. I had seen enough. Across from the park, a bookstore was open and seemed to be doing a thriving business. It also had a guard stationed at the door, holding an M-16. The guard watched us as we drove by.

  I drove us past more burned out buildings, more armed guards, and more empty faces.

  “I know you still have to see Tom, otherwise I’d insist that we get out of here,” John said. He was getting twitchy beside me, and he kept watching the roadside, eyes darting, looking for any wrong movement.

  We pulled into the Post parking lot, it too was nearly empty. I was familiar with the procedure, having been there to see Liz several times. I hit the call button located inside the solid glass vestibule of bulletproof glass. I introduced myself and asked to see Tom. A few minutes later I was buzzed in, given a clip-on badge, and directed to his upstairs office.