Jeffry voiced something that bothered me. “This is great, but I am worried with no one on guard.”
Annette said, “Justine is babysitting David and Deb’s children. The rest of the older children are posted in the dormers keeping watch.”
Jeffry shook his head, “By the time they run downstairs to alert us—.”
Annette calmed his concern. “They are sitting at open windows and if they see anyone approaching the house, they’ll fire a shot in the air.”
In my mind, I pictured what an unsuspecting explorer might think of a gun going off. From Jeffry’s expression, I think the same thought came to him, but neither of us expressed it. Annette caught it as well and said, “I know; not the best solution, but for a short term occasion, it’ll do.”
Maggie called from the adjoining kitchen. “Annette, Preeja, Deb, I’m ready.”
The women left the table and went through the double-hung swinging gates dividing the two rooms. A moment later, bearing trays, they filed back in with Maggie leading the way. A wealth of odors came with them.
Maggie placed her tray on the table. It held a large baking dish with steam rising. She announced, “Chicken, collard, parmesan casserole.”
Preeja placed a bowl and with pride said, “Stir-fried wild garlic, crumbled peanuts and truffle. Very rich, two spoons only please.”
Deb slid a platter from her tray, stating, “And chocolate cake with truffle spiked icing. The children had the same with their meal, except in the form of cupcakes.”
Annette went from plate to plate pouring from a pitcher into the glasses. “I have nothing spectacular, plain old tea.”
The women sat. Jules stood. “The first time I opened a bottle of champagne, I did it wrong and it sprayed like a fountain. I’ll strive not to waste a drop of this superb bubbly.”
He lifted the bottle from the ice and began a lecture. I reckon it was the schoolteacher in him.
“Champagne has to be cooled in ice water for about an hour.” Holding the bottle with one hand by its neck, he shook out a small towel, held it in place on his upper thigh and placed the bottom on the bottle on it.
“Opening the bottle is a two hand job, no using the thumb to pop the cork. The trick is to avoid that pop; to release the cork slowly so the gas doesn’t explode out,” Demonstrating as he spoke, “First you loosen the wire cage holding the cork in place. As you do, keep pressure on the top just in case the cork wants to blow.”
Leaving the mesh in place, he continued. “And now the real point. Do not twist the cork and pull. Twist the bottle while pulling.”
The cork came out with a slight hiss. “Ah, perfect,” he prided himself. He went from person to person to pour the wine glasses a quarter-full. When he finished, the bottle was empty.
Returning to his place at the head of the table, he remained standing. “This will be a multi-prong toast. First, to honor the women who prepared the culinary miracle we’ll soon partake; Second, to give thanks to the Good Lord, and third to express appreciation for the mighty effort of many at the table in procuring our life-saving supplies.
“Lastly, let us honor the wonderful people gathered for the meal and ask the Lord for his continued blessings.
Then Jules went back to teacher mode. “This fine of a wine is made to savor. First a sip…, Allow it to trickle down the center of your tongue and glory in the slow release of its essence. Raise your glasses please.”
A round-table of glasses went up.
“To us, right here, right now together. If the Lord wills it, we will survive and prosper.”
He sipped, we sipped, and he was so right. I let it trickle-tickle down the center of my tongue. The ‘essence’ of the drink did release in a cascade of subtle flavor changes.
Annette said it for us all, “Wow!”
Jules licked his lips and smiled, “That is a perfect descriptor. You may want to finish it off. It is better when cold.”
Maggie said, “Finish it while the serving happens. The casserole is getting cold.”
*******
The storm, a normal storm came while we were eating. Toward the end of the meal, while eating cake, Jules said, “We’ve accomplished quite a bit over the last couple of days. After the meal, over coffee or other beverage preference, I’d like us to look at our list and reassess our priorities.”
Maggie said, “Yes we should. It’s raining and it’s cold. Tomorrow may be the same. Whether it is or not, I vote that, except for essentials, tomorrow is a day off…, no away trips. Thanks to the generator running the well pump, all the children have bathed. Annette, Abby and Tempest, are you three on for a hot shower before bed?”
Annette said, “Oh god, yes.”
Abby said, “I’ll second that.”
I lifted an arm and pretended to sniff my armpit, “I’m due and overdue.”
Annette shook her head. “Christ, Tempest, gross.”
Pretended to sniff again, “You’re right about that.”
In a good-natured way, Annette said, “Yeah, none of us wanted to mention it, but yeah, you’re due. Shut up and eat your cake.”
Making it up, I said, “Well, at least I’m not the one with a grease streak all the way down the side of my face.”
Instinctively, her hand went to her cheek.
Jeffry barked a laugh. “Boy, did you fall for that one.”
Annette stuck out her tongue at me.
Cake done, dishes cleared, with cups of coffee and tea on the table, we “Reassessed”. Jules started us.
“We haven’t had time to catalogue the food we liberated from the National Guard condiment distribution center, but weight-wise, it measures in tons. We should have enough to last us until harvest.”
I figured it time to add a stumbling block and to reveal my secret. “Yeah, there is a pile of food in the garage. It should last that long, but not if we gain more people, and we do need more people; more armed guards on duty at all times.
“My friend Billy talked about a drastic population reduction scenario. He thought there would be a grace period before large gangs would organize. It’s been quite a while since the bombs fell. More people on guard mean we’ll need more food. At the plague-killed community, there is a stash of food. I don’t know how much is there.”
Jeffry asked, “Given the virulent nature of the plague agent, do you think it’d be wise to claim it?”
I shuddered and said, “Nope, there is no way would I touch anything there. Months from now, when this food runs low it’ll probably be safe.”
Abby joined in with a pointed question. “Why on earth does your friend think gangs will form, to what purpose? There’s no shortage of food or anything else.”
Jeffry said, “Gangs… let’s call them groups, form for many reasons. We’re forming one. We could look at us as forming a feudal estate. I say this, because to be safe on our estate, we will have to control the social elements surrounding us.”
Annette said, “That’s what Tempest has been doing.”
I couldn’t argue that, but did say, “I’m sure there are more bad elements that we haven’t yet crossed.”
Jeffry said, “From the tales related to me about your exploits, those elements had better stay out of sight. I won’t relate what everyone already knows. But I will say you have nerves of steel.”
I didn’t run from that. “I’ve killed way more of them than there are us, but I think you’re right, most gangs will form around a source of supplies and remain stationary. Unless they do what we’re doing, planning for long-term self-sufficiency, when their food source dries up, that’s when they might change.”
Vikas joined in. “It will be the lazy ones who will take from the workers.”
Jules said, “Whatever the reason, we would be foolish to imagine we are safe. In the interest of moving on, let me say this. To double the adults here will not mean adding nine mouths. Yeah, we have our nine, but we also have seven young ones eating from our supplies. I am sure among another nine adults
there will be more children. Let’s plan on another fifteen people. Acquiring food remains high on our list.”
“Jules said, “We’ve taken less than a quarter of the supplies from the Armory. I vote for visiting there again. The only thing precluding that is lack of space to put it.”
Annette agreed, “Yeah, and besides food, we haven’t searched the facility for their weapons.”
Jeffry added, “I’d like to bring some of the heavier equipment from the County works, frontend loaders, backhoe, and they have a great selection of pre-computer tractors… one of em’s set up for side-mowing. Two of the dumps we brought over have hydraulics for attaching a snow plow but we don’t have the plows.”
Jules looked up from writing in his notebook. “Okay, as soon as the weather clears up, more trips to the Armory. Let’s move on to fuel. We’re running low on gasoline and diesel. By running low, I mean we’re practically out.”
Jules said, “There’s gas and diesel at the Works, but it’s not portable. It’s time to consider Annette’s suggestion concerning tanker trucks.”
Call it adventure seeking; I threw in my two-cents. “If it’s raining tomorrow that would be a good time to explore. Cold rainy days make people want to hunker-down. Jeffry said he can drive anything.”
“I can drive anything that has an engine and a steering wheel,” Jeffry confirmed, “can’t pilot a jetliner, but I can fly smaller aircraft, helicopters as well.”
I continued, “Tomorrow morning, you, Annette and I take one of the dump trucks over to the Works, fuel it and fill some fuel cans in case we need em. I say we drive Highway 45 to Interstate 40. There’s a chance we’ll find a tanker on the 45, but I’m betting between Jackson and Nashville we’ll find anything we need.”
From both Annette’s and Jeffry’s expressions I could tell they were all-in for the idea. Jules was as well.
He said, “I can imagine all sorts of danger you may run into riding such major roads, but we do need a quick solution. We may be too late. So much time has passed since the nukes; we only hope no one else in the same predicament has thought of taking tanker vehicles.”
Maggie asked, “Hon, what else is on the list?”
Jules glanced to his notebook. “Livestock, livestock feed and seed. Those aren’t immediate needs, but will be soon. What’ we need right away is dog food. We’re feeding them human food, but that’s not a good solution.”
“Jeffry said, “We’ll see if we can procure some tomorrow.”
Maggie added a need and a demand. “We’re running low on toilet paper. Find us some. Don’t come home without it.”
Jules finished scribbling in his notebook and closed it. “Okay, we have an agenda. Let’s call that a wrap for this evening.”
Annette stood from the table, “Come on, Tempest, I’m dying for a hot shower. Let’s go to the bunkhouse for a change of clothing.”
Maggie suggested, “If you have towels, bring them with you. All of the ones here are damp from use.”
David stood and asked, “Should I check the fuel in the generator?”
**********
Oh yeah was I correct about cold rainy days making people hunker down. The next morning, climbing into the dump truck to sit beside Annette, we had rain, a steady downpour.
We had the cold as well, making it an overcast, lightning-filled, rain-drenching miserable start to a day. We couldn’t ask for better.
Reaching for the ignition switch, Jeffry said, “Yesterday my leg felt like it was beginning to heal. Today, the rain and cold makes my calf feel like someone shot it again.”
Annette volunteered, “I can drive if you want.”
Turning the key, he raised his voice over the noise of the starter, “Naw, I’ll bull my way through it. It’ll loosen up.”
The cab muffled the sound of the diesel engine and allowed for normal speaking. Shifting to drive, Jeffry continued, “So far, every time we’ve ventured out we’ve driven slowly and cautiously. While a level of caution is wise approaching blind curves, ridges and such, on open stretches I’m picking up speed. A fast moving target is harder for a sniper to get a bead on.”
True to his word, even on the infamous narrow roads of our area, in the open stretches he often exceeded fifty-miles-per hour. As a result, the trip to the public works took less than a half hour. He parked at the diesel tank.
Annette, sitting in the middle, nudged my side and said to Jeffry, “The rain’s stopped. You might want to get out and stretch. Tempest and I will handle the fueling.”
He patted his right leg. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
The rain had stopped, but the wind blew cold and strong, Stepping from the running board into the drab, clammy, cloud-dreary day, I turned to Annette, “I’ll pump, you fill.”
Annette stuck the fuel nozzle in the truck, turned to me and in a low voice said, “I’m glad to see Jeffry’s smart-ass attitude has improved. For a while there I thought either I’d put a boot up his ass or you’d shoot him.”
I began turning the pump handle. “Maybe Abby or Jules straightened him out.” Changing the subject, I asked, “How’d you sleep last night?”
“Like a log, why?”
“The baby crying didn’t wake you?”
“No, loud noises won’t wake me, but sneaking noises, creaking boards or squealing hinges snap me wide awake. Did the baby keep you up?”
“Yeah, she woke me. She didn’t cry very long, but I had a hard time going back to sleep.”
Annette smiled, “Crying babies are a normal part of society. Wait until you have one of your own. You’ll be praying for a full night of sleep.”
That was it for talking, but she set my mind swirling. I tried to imagine me having a baby, but I couldn’t get past the action it would take for me to have one, couldn’t imagine letting anyone get that close to me, much less let them lie on me.
I got into a rhythm with the pump and let my mind wander. The nozzle didn’t have a cut-off at the handle. Annette shouting, “Stop pumping,” brought my eyes to her pointing the squirting nozzle away from us.
“Jesus, Tempest, where were you.”
“I was playing a game in my mind, First-Person-Shooter hunting for my eggs to keep me from having a baby.”
“Jesus Christ, I know you’re not kidding. Reminder to self—, don’t ask Tempest where she goes when she looks dazed.”
“That would be smart. Hang onto that nozzle, I’ll grab the containers.”
Annette said, “Hurry. The wind’s picking up and my hands are freezing.”
Leaving the Works, I directed Jeffry back to highway 100 so we could access highway 45 north, a twenty-mile straight shot to Jackson.
Jeffry again picked up speed. What continued to strike me was how few stranded vehicles there were on the road. My guess was that when the EMP hit, though we did encounter an occasional exception to swerve around, most drivers had enough speed to roll onto the emergency lane.
I mentioned it aloud and Jeffry said, “From experience I can tell you it’s different near and in larger cities. Nashville’s roads and freeways were almost non-negotiable. Prior to the epidemic, some effort was made to clear them, but it was a monumental task that came nowhere near completion.”
Recalling a conversation, I said, “My friend Billy told me that in a major catastrophe like this, in only a few years roads like the one we lived on would be overgrown and impassable. He said it would take longer, but freeways would suffer the same fate.”
Jeffry responded, added to Billy’s dour prediction. “As badly maintained as the roads have become since the geographic and ideological division of the states, that scenario will unfold very quickly. Without maintenance, bridges will fail, floods will do their damage, dams will collapse and cause washouts. Add to that winter-summer freeze-thaw and we can say goodbye to long-distance travel.”
I one-upped the mess. “Billy said it won’t matter about the roads because the tires will all rot away, that the vulcanization process used to make them
guarantees self-destruction. Even new tires inside buildings will slowly but surely deteriorate.”
Annette said, “With bulldozers with steel tracks, we can keep the roads in our area clear.”
I shook my head, “Sure we can… for a while, but Billy also said that it won’t take long for all the gasoline and diesel fuel to go bad. He said bio-diesel will be a possible substitute, but eventually we’d run out of stuff like processed vegetable oils and humans would need to constantly change the formula.”
Jeffry laughed, not a funny laugh and said, “We’d better add horses to our livestock list.”
Annette jumped onto the depression inducing bandwagon. Speaking to me, she asked, “Well how about this? Do you remember when we talked about how many people might still be alive in the states?”
“Yeah, we came up with seven million in the near future.”
“Right, the dying will continue due to various forms of attrition. Add to our list people up north who probably froze to death because of no heat.”
“Maybe up North’s been unseasonably warm like down here.”
Jeffry jumped in, “Or it’s possible they’ve had record breaking cold.”
Annette had had enough. “Just because we have a dreary day doesn’t mean we need to further depress ourselves.”
I pointed to the dashboard, “I agree. Let’s turn on the radio and find a cheerful station.”
Annette’s hand almost reached the radio before she remembered all she’d find was static. “Fuck you, smartass.”
Jeffry did change the subject. “Annette told me about the shootout at the Ranger Station. What do you think the women and children did afterward? Do you think they may still be there?”
I am a smartass. “Why, are you thinking of becoming a Mormon?”
Chuckling, he replied. “One wife’s enough, but let me echo Annette’s assessment of you…; Smartass. No, but Annette said some of the women were decent people. I may be wrong, but for various reasons it is possible that the majority of the survivors that wander into our area will be men. Having available women might be an additional enticement to retain men whom we’d like to join with us.”
Tempest of Tennessee (Episode 3): Tempest of Tennessee Page 3