Skylar’s house had one of those wood stoves fashioned out of an old water heater that the machinists had made winter before. Her family had a few logs left over, but not nearly enough for the cold days ahead, so I gave them what I’d brought and promised to bring them more. Getting wood was not as easy for the townspeople as it was for us.
Calvin and I built the Tipton’s a woodpile that Dad would be proud of. Then we went inside and fashioned them a flat metal surface and affixed it to the top of the wood stove to use as a cooking surface. I talked to Mr. Tipton about their food options and found that they were pretty low. I told him that I would try to keep them stocked in grain and hunted game this winter, but warned that he should probably think about another source, as well. He assured me that, though he hadn’t hunted since he was a teenager because he was always too busy at the diner, some neighbors had offered to share game with them as much as possible in return for the Tipton’s cooking it for them.
We discussed options for reopening the diner using non-electrical improvements, and Mr. Tipton started getting excited. He hollered for his wife to come in and listen while I told them about how we could add solar lighting to their dark kitchen and convert their big gas stove into a wood-burning one. It was so great to see the light come back into their dull, lifeless eyes, and I promised to come back with plans as soon as I could.
I got a little alone time with Skylar while Calvin continued talking to her parents about what they would need to do to reopen the diner. She was so happy that I had given her parents hope that she kept kissing me and hugging me tight. I told her she didn’t owe me anything, but trust me, I enjoyed the enthusiasm.
We made out in her bedroom for over half an hour—I still can’t believe her parents left us alone in there that long—before Calvin and I had to leave. I hated to have to tell her that it would be a few days until I could return, but she suggested coming to my farm to help us with the fence in exchange for more firewood. That seemed like the most awesome idea I’d ever heard, and it made me actually look forward to working on that fence the next day.
Chapter 13
For the next couple of weeks our lives were busy with preparing our place for the new livestock, getting the Caruthers’ place ready for winter, and then bringing the animals home. Thanks to good weather, Dad and Alex were able to get almost half of the crop in with the combine by the end of November and began to use the horse-drawn reaper after that. By Christmas, they had finished the harvest, which was a massive relief. We would be okay for at least another year.
Skylar had been able to drive her parents’ car to our place a couple of times in that first week, and then she and Jenny came on Jenny’s horses at least twice a week afterward. The weather was beautiful—crisply cool but warm enough to be comfortable. When I got some free time, I rode one of our new horses, a black gelding that I particularly liked, in to town to see Skylar and work on the diner. Calvin usually tagged along too, and we were able to install three solar tube lights in the diner’s kitchen so that, at least in the daytime, they would have enough light to cook by. Mr. Tipton had already converted the gas stove to burn wood, saying he didn’t even care if the change ruined it. Everyone was pretty sure that the power would be off for a long time; we had to begin adapting to life without it.
A week before Christmas, a couple of soldiers stopped by our house with one of those radiation detecting things—a Geiger counter, I think they called it—and walked around, testing the amount of radiation in the air around our farm. The thing kept clicking everywhere they went, and they said that the last CME had left behind more radiation in the atmosphere because the first one had blown away part of our magnetosphere, leaving us more exposed to radiation from the sun.
They told us that the worst exposure had been in the first couple of days, but even now it was best to stay inside, particularly in the basement, as much as possible. They also said to eat lots of foods that are high in antioxidants, like tomatoes, peppers, and broccoli. Mom smiled at that, turned to us boys, and said, “I told you that eating your vegetables would pay off sometime.”
Before the soldiers left, they warned us again about marauders. The situation had gotten so bad in some places that gangs of starving people, mostly young men, were roving the countryside on foot and horseback, taking whatever they could get. In some instances, they had even killed to get what they wanted. They were also known to rape women and burn down houses just out of sheer spite and lawlessness.
That news shocked us, and Dad decided after the soldiers left that we needed to consider fortifying our home and protecting our resources, including our animals and the grain in our silos. That’s the one thing about surviving that Dad hadn’t downloaded any information on—defending ourselves from an attack—and he said we would all need to brainstorm ways to keep away unwanted visitors.
Our closest neighbors were a middle-aged couple named Rick and Carla Thomas, who lived about two miles up the highway. They ran cattle on their acreage; not a huge herd, but about 40 head of cows and a bull. Dad figured that they might need some help in protecting their herd, and he and Alex rode to their house to talk about the idea of working together to protect our mutual interests.
That got Robin thinking about her Dad’s herd of cattle, which she had given to the Jenkins’s to look after following the death of her father. At that time, she had wanted nothing to do with the animal that had killed her father, but now she started thinking about how having some of those cows would prove to be very useful. She decided that she and Alex would visit the Jenkins’s and ask for a few head of cattle back.
On Christmas Eve, Mom sent me into town with the wagon to invite The Tipton’s to spend Christmas with us. They were very touched by the offer, but explained that dozens of townspeople were counting on them to provide Christmas dinner, now that the diner was set up to run without electricity. Skylar begged her parents to let her go without them and they finally said she could, noting that it wouldn’t be much of a Christmas for her if she had to spend the day waiting on customers at the diner.
It was arranged that she would stay two nights at our house so we wouldn’t have to travel on Christmas. I assured them that she could sleep in Robin’s room and she would be safe from any conceivable danger. Mrs. Tipton put her hand on my cheek and said, “We know. We trust you, dear.” I blushed at her implication and had to turn away.
Skylar and I made it home before dark and spent a long time together in the barn while putting away the wagon, brushing down the horses, and just talking. We knew we’d be hitching the horses back up to go to the candlelight service at church in a couple of hours, so we left them in their stalls. Our three dogs sat at Skylar’s feet, gazing at her with the same adoration that I did, as she petted each in turn. Skylar had never had a dog, even though she adored them, so she gave each of mine tons of attention when she could. Even though we loved our dogs, they were farm dogs, outdoor dogs. They only got petted when we were outside and not busy, so the extra attention Skylar was giving them almost made them wiggle with excitement. She kind of had that effect on me too.
We finally went in the house and had a nice dinner with my family, and then we all went to the candlelight service. I had such a strong feeling of déjà vu except that Skylar was holding my hand beside me in the pew.
Christmas day was wonderful, of course. It wasn’t quite as special as that first Christmas without electricity, but it had its own special charm: the presence of Skylar.
The next day, I reluctantly drove her home in the wagon.
Oh, I almost forgot: the present Mom and Dad gave Alex and Robin was that they could get married on New Year’s Eve, if they still wanted to. And of course they did still want to—more than ever! Alex asked me to be his best man and Robin asked Skylar to be her maid of honor. We had less than one week to get a wedding put together, but Mom already had a jump on it. She had been asking Robin all sorts of discreet questions about what kind of wedding she would like in the future, and she had
secretly modified her own wedding dress to fit Robin’s preferred style.
On New Year’s Eve, Reverend Campbell came over to our house and married Alex and Robin in our family room. Only our family, Skylar, and the Reverend were there. I have to say, even though I’ve never cared for weddings and things like that, it was a really cool ceremony. I guess it’s because Robin and Alex really loved each other and deserved to be together. I also benefited in two great ways: Skylar got to spend a couple of days at our house, and I got my room to myself again.
If it were Robin, or Skylar, or even Mom writing this, they’d probably go into great detail about the wedding, the flowers, the colors, what was said, how everyone reacted, etc., but honestly, I don’t remember that much about the details.
I just remember that Robin looked beautiful in her long, white dress and her hair reminded me of a shiny new penny peeking out from under the veil in soft waves around her face. I remember that Alex was wearing a dark-colored suit and that he looked at Robin with such awe and devotion, it almost made me want to get married. Most of all, I remember Skylar, my beautiful, amazing Skylar, standing next to Robin, her honey-colored hair just brushing the shoulders of a satiny copper long dress just a couple of shades darker than Robin’s hair, with a silver sash tied in a bow around her waist and another smaller version, in her hair.
She looked just like the most beautiful, wondrous present anyone could ever be given. As I stared at her, wishing I could tear open her wrapping—I know, not a very nice thought during such a solemn ceremony, but I couldn’t keep my mind from wandering—she turned and smiled at me in a way that told me maybe her mind was already way ahead of mine on that train of thought. After that, I have no other clear memory of the ceremony, as I’m sure you can understand.
After Alex and Robin were married, we ate a big dinner of ham from a friend of Dad’s who raises hogs, vegetables grown in Mom and Robin’s garden, lots of homemade bread, rolls, and even a gooseberry pie, thanks to Mrs. Caruthers’ jars of gooseberries.
We were all stuffed, but then Mom brought out a big box, which Skylar had brought with her when I picked her up. She had refused to tell me what was in it, saying it was a wedding gift from her family. Mom opened the box and lifted out a two-tiered white wedding cake with icing flowers all over it. We all oohed and ahhed over it then and again when we tasted it. Skylar told us that her mother had bargained with a few neighbors to collect enough sugar to make a real cake—I mean the sort of cake that we had taken for granted before PF Day.
Mom even brought out some Amaretto that she had stored somewhere in a cabinet and let all of us, even Calvin, have a little bit to ring in the New Year. That little bit was plenty for me. I’ve never really seen the point in drinking like a lot of the other kids in my school did. I mean, I don’t really like the taste of alcohol and I’ve always been pretty happy with my life, so I don’t feel like I need to drink to escape or to change who I am or even to prove myself. The guys I usually hung out with at school (before PF Day, of course) felt the same way, but we were more or less considered geeks and nerds for not going to any of the drinking parties.
Strangely, I didn’t really miss my friends from school. That part of my life now seemed like ancient history, like I can just barely remember what we talked about or what we did back then. When I thought about friends on that special New Year’s Eve, while we sang Auld Lang Syne and the part about old acquaintances and all, I realized that all the friends I would ever need were in the same room, all together: Mom, Dad, my grandparents, my brothers, Robin, and especially Skylar.
I also realized that PF Day and PF2 Day, as it came to be called, even with all the inconveniences and tragedies, had changed my life in ways I could never have imagined before, ways that made my family and me closer and more truly alive. I know that this probably sounds weird and maybe a little selfish, given all the misery other people had to endure, but that’s what it did for our family, and, for the first time since PF Day, I was grateful for the loss of power.
Chapter 14
The second power failureseemed to be seen as more of a challenge to be won than the first time—when despair was the pervading emotion—to the people of our county. Although news had been trickling in from outside the United States that people were still suffering greatly, especially in the big cities, in Holt County there seemed to be a different spirit: “This is our lot, so let’s make the best of it.”
People really came together and started helping each other to carve a new life out of our circumstances, each person contributing resources, knowledge, skill, or just plain muscle to the good of the whole. Dad’s knowledge of “off the grid” living techniques was an unbelievable resource for everyone, and made the transition to living without electricity much smoother and less painful. Through barter and trade—and a lot of charity of spirit, as Mom called it—everyone was taken care of and set up for surviving the winter.
The elderly, like my grandparents, also had a wealth of experience from their memories of life on the farm before electricity became so pervasive in our lives. Granny remembered helping her own Grandma make soap from ashes and hog fat. Papa knew how to butcher chickens. We had always had chickens, but they were more for egg laying and pets than for meat. Mom had always given all but one rooster away every spring when a new batch was born so she wouldn’t have to butcher them. She said that chicken was just too cheap to buy in the store to go through the trouble and anguish of butchering her pets herself. But now, it was a necessity.
She felt the same way about her pet goats. She raised her goats for their milk and for the fun of seeing the rambunctious little babies born each spring. Like the roosters, Mom had always sold all but the one billy goat. Now, however, she knew she might have to have them slaughtered for their meat next fall.
Both of my grandmas knew how to milk a cow and remembered their grandmothers making butter from the fresh milk. Dad made a makeshift butter churn out of a five gallon bucket and another oar—much like the washing machine I had made Mom last year—and it wasn’t long before we had mastered the use of it and began enjoying butter again. We had the goat milk and the cow milk and all the great things you can make from them, like cheese, yogurt, and butter, all of which Dad had downloaded instructions on how to make.
Dad traded grain for a hog right before Christmas and had us boys help him butcher it, while Papa instructed us from the memories of his childhood. It wasn’t too different from butchering a deer, something my brothers and I had been doing since we were each ten or eleven years old, except that a hog is much bigger and heavier than a deer. Papa had to tell us how to cut it up into the various cuts of meat—the hams, chops, ribs, loins, bacon, etc.—and what to do with the leftover parts, all of which were useful for something.
The hooves and bones were kept for making gelatin, the fat for lard, the stomach and intestines for sausage casings. Even the brains were saved to be used in tanning the skin for making leather. Mom boiled the head, lungs, and other innards to make a rich broth, which she then canned and stored in the garage. Then she rendered the fat—that is, boiled it until it became liquefied—to make lard for cooking and making soap. Later, Dad boiled the hooves and bones for several days until he had a pot of gelatin to be used for glue. We converted our tool shed into a smokehouse and smoked a huge amount of the meat to keep it from spoiling when the weather warmed up.
People in town started to specialize in making certain small, necessary things like soap and candles. Of course, we were able to make all of them too, but it was easier to let others specialize in making one thing. It also helped them out for us to trade things like meat and grain for their products, especially those in town who didn’t have all the resources we had.
Candee Smith was already skilled at making candles and she was able to “hire” several of her friends to help her since the demand for candles was so high now. Mr. and Mrs. Turrow, who lived just outside of town, got good at making soap because they had two large cast iron pots needed
to render the fat and mix it with the wood ash lye. They too were able to hire workers to help make the soft soap they traded to others. To make hard bars of soap, you have to add salt, which was in short supply in the first year after PF2 Day, so we made do with soft soap poured into whatever container we had in our possession. We used this soap for everything from washing our clothes and dishes to washing our bodies. It worked like a charm, and we were amazed that one product could so easily replace the dozens of products we used before PF Day.
Again the town had set up a trading center in the town square when the weather was decent and moved into the school gym when it wasn’t. Mom and Robin started trading their dried herbs in town almost every week. They became experts in medicinal uses for herbs and, along with Mrs. Littleton, were able to grow and sell plants from their greenhouses well into January.
Almost every time we came to town, someone would have a problem that they needed Mom and Robin’s help with. They were usually able to help with minor problems like sprained ankles or sore throats or stomachaches, but a mother once came to them for help for her little boy who had severe pain in his belly, and nothing they had in their herbal arsenal would help.
His parents had to borrow a horse and rush him to another nearby town where a doctor lived, who was able to perform an appendectomy on him to save his life. That shook Mom up, and she realized just how limited her knowledge and abilities actually were.
Tipton’s Diner was open and busy almost every day. It was so nice to stop there and get a warm meal every time we came to town. Mr. Tipton had hired a couple of teens to help wait tables, whom he paid in food for themselves and their families. That freed Skylar up somewhat so she could come and visit me once a week. Her parents let her stay the night when she came in order to give us more time together. Jenny Garten usually came too, and they would sleep in the family room in front of the fireplace. I always offered them my room, but they said they preferred to sleep by the fire.
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