As they crossed the Cornville Bridge over Oak Creek, the same Oak Creek that runs through Oak Creek Canyon, Sedona and the Village, and approached their turn onto South Loy Road, they spotted six men, obviously intoxicated, jostling each other and drinking from beer and liquor bottles they didn’t even try to conceal in paper bags. This must have been their way of dealing with the CME event, and they had obviously been at it a while.
They wore jeans, work boots, like those generally worn by ranch hands, cowboy or denim shirts, and cowboy or baseball hats. They were all mid-size and strongly built, as if ranch work agreed with them. If they had been able to stand and walk straight, they would have been a formidable six-pack.
Colby turned on his blinker and started to make the turn. The men blocked his path on the road, forcing him to slam on his brakes. One of them approached the truck and Colby buzzed down his window.
The inebriated man said, “Well, young fella’, it appears you got a truck that runs and we’d sure appreciate a ride.”
“A ride to where?” Colby responded.
“Well, wherever youse goin’.”
“I’m only going up Loy a few blocks,” said Colby, “so why don’t y’all just move and let me through?”
“I think not young fella’, he said slurringly. “I think maybe we need to jus take the truck.”
With that the other five men started moving toward the truck and the one by Colby’s door started to grab the handle to open it. Bud, who had sat quietly, kind of slouched down in the seat because that’s how it accommodated his size most comfortably, put his hand on Colby’s leg and said quietly, “just stay put, Colby.”
Bud uncoiled himself from the seat as he exited the truck. The six men quickly lost the bravado they had been feeling when they saw “Paul Bunyan” extend to his full height and move toward the front of the truck. But, with the assistance of alcohol marinated brains and their belief in superior numbers, they just as quickly regained their bravado. That was their second and last mistake; their first being their stated intent of taking the truck. Bud stepped into the midst of the five men in front of the truck and, one at a time, literally threw them like so many empty trash cans into the drainage ditch on either side of Loy Road. His motions were so fluid and quick they didn’t have time to react, especially in their inebriated state, and not one of them attempted to get up from the ditch to respond or retreat. A man, such as Bud, who is used to carrying large weight from one place to another on the jobsite, has bear-like strength and, when agitated, adds a little adrenaline and becomes almost superhuman, or at least that’s how it appeared to the drunks in the ditch.
The one remaining man, who obviously was their leader, of sorts, seeing what had happened, jumped into the back of the truck and retrieved a small crowbar Colby had failed to unload at the house. The man now challenged them to “get the hell out of here and leave the truck or I’ll bust you up pretty good.”
With that, Colby stepped out of the truck; no pansy himself, and stepped directly toward the truck bed. The drunk reacted by taking a swing horizontally with the bar and taking a step backwards, right into the iron vice of Bud’s hands. The man didn’t fly any better than he stood and ended up in the ditch with three of his buddies. But, unlike them, he was hurt. Bud had used so much force in lifting and throwing him, in one smooth move, that the man had broken his shoulder when he landed. He was no longer belligerent and laid there moaning. His buddies didn’t even attempt to commiserate with him. His leadership days were over.
As Bud and Colby got back into the truck Bud called to the men, “we’re just going down this road a piece and you’d better not still be here when we get back.” Colby put the truck in gear and they moved on up the road to Matt and Kristen’s house.
◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘
As they pulled into the drive in front of the house, they noticed that Matt’s truck wasn’t there, but almost immediately Matt, Kristen, and the twins came out to greet them.
Matt, 38, worked for the farm supply store at Casey’s Corner as a mechanic and welder and was still dressed in his work coveralls. He stood 5’9” and weighed in at 170. His stomach was beginning to show his love of beer. His ruddy complexion gave testament to the fact he spent many hours outside helping the local farmers with their tractors and other farm machinery. He loved his job and was known throughout the community as a genial, good- natured, man.
The twins, Tate and Mattie, were 16 and had just completed their junior year at Cottonwood High School. As fraternal twins, they looked nothing alike. Tate was a string bean, at 5’11” and 140 pounds; he still had some growing to do. Mattie, on the other hand, who was named after her father, was 5’8”, 125, and probably had reached her maximum height. She already worried about putting on pounds, as most young girls do, so probably would never have to worry about being “fat.” Both had the fine, chiseled features of their father and his brown hair and eyes. They also had his easy-going outlook on life and stayed out of trouble. Both were athletic, both did chores obediently, if not willingly, both were good students, and neither had ever experimented with drugs. In other words, they were just the opposite of their cousin Jason. They were both dressed in tee shirts, jeans, and athletic shoes.
Kristen, or Kris as she was known to her friends and family, was 38, 5’7” and 143 pounds. She stood just an inch taller than her mother but had the same auburn hair that she wore in a short, shaggy cut, and hazel eyes. She worked part-time at the Desert Market, and was active in the twins’ school activities and the PTA. She prided herself on having a clean and neat house, even though it was an old one that desperately needed a coat of paint and some “fixing up,” as she would say. She almost always wore a blouse with three-quarter length cotton pants and sandals, and today was no exception.
Tears were rolling down Kristen’s cheeks. She had been scared, she recounted to Bud, because they couldn’t contact anyone. Matt had been on his way home when, for some reason, his truck just quit running. He had walked the rest of the way home seeing and hearing small explosions as transformers exploded. They didn’t know what was happening and when their phones wouldn’t work and their electricity was out, they didn’t know what to do.
She quickly fell into her father’s embrace. After all, she was her father’s “little girl!”
“I’m really glad to see you, Dad. Do you know what’s happening?”
Bud and Colby gave them a short summary of what was going on, as best they could understand it, and suggested that they needed to come back to the Village with them until this thing was all over.
“We don’t know how long it will be, sis,” said Colby, “so I suggest you pack some suitcases with as much clothing as you can. You can stay at Dad’s or our place for as long as necessary, and I don’t know when or if we’ll be able to get back over here, so take everything you think you might need. And, Matt, don’t leave any guns or ammo. Bring that with you. Don’t know if you’ll need it but we surely don’t want anyone else, like the drunks we met on the road earlier, to help themselves to it, either.”
Matt and Kristen just looked at Colby when he mentioned the drunks, but didn’t inquire further.
It took almost an hour before they had packed all their stuff into suitcases, boxes, pillowcases, and garbage bags and put it in the back of the truck. The crowbar was now in the small equipment locker across the back of the cab, where it belonged. Matt and Kristen made one more sweep through the house and started back to the truck when Bud called to them.
“Take all the perishable food out of the fridge and put it in the garbage or it will stink to high heaven when you do come back, and you’ll probably have to replace the fridge for the odor. Also, Matt, you should probably throw the main breaker, just to be safe.”
Bud figured throwing the breaker turned off everything at once rather than trying to figure out what was left on at the time the electricity went out.
Kristen and the twins got into the crew cab and Matt sat down in the back among the b
elongings. Colby headed back the way they had come.
At the corner of Loy and Cornville Road there was no sign of the six drunks. Probably somewhere trying to intimidate some other unsuspecting folks or, with any luck, they’re tucked in somewhere sleeping it off, thought Bud.
The rest of the trip back was uneventful except for the exclamations from Kristen and the twins about the number of abandoned vehicles along the way and the absence of people. At least Kristen and Matt now knew his truck wasn’t the only vehicle affected.
As they drove down Verde Valley School Road, after having picked up Jason, who now rode in the back with Matt, it was apparent that the fires had died down in their end of the Village, but the towering clouds of black smoke told them the rest of the Village wasn’t faring so well. They marveled at the light display going on overhead, though none of them understood what it was.
◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘
As they pulled into the driveway at Bishop’s they were amazed to be greeted by all the Mavericks, except Travis and the Tucson kids. And there was food on the table. One might call it a joyous reunion as they hugged and shook hands, and it was, but the circumstances were less than joyous. There was a great sense of apprehension as they all ate their fill, but none of them raised the obvious questions. Maybe if we just ignore it things will get better, seemed to be the collective thought. So, that’s exactly what they did until Bishop stood up and got their attention.
Everyone seemed to defer to Bishop, not just because he was the oldest, but because they all respected his leadership abilities; he knew how to lead without being bossy, a talent he had learned in the military and reinforced in his real estate business: people seemed to respond better in both efficiency and productivity if you didn’t treat them like they were idiots or children.
“You know that Carly and I always enjoy having our friends and neighbors over for a small campfire and some hamburgers,” he began with a smile, and everyone caught on to the pun about the campfire. “But I guess the circumstances warrant more than a poor excuse for a joke on my part,” he continued.
Everyone chuckled at his self-deprecating humor and because it felt good to release a little tension.
“We’re glad that Bud and Colby had a safe journey to Cornville and that Kristen, Matt, Tate and Mattie are with us, as well.” Everyone applauded.
“I think the biggest threat from the Estados Apartment fires has passed and, unless we get a strong wind during the night to whip up the flames again, we probably don’t have to be unduly worried about the threat of fire crossing Raintrail and igniting the houses below us. However, if you agree, I would propose that Bud, Colby, Jack, and Tanner and I take shifts walking along Raintrail throughout the night, just in case.”
“I agree,” said Jack.
“And so do I,” echoed Bud and Colby.
Tanner gave his father a thumbs-up, so all were in agreement.
“How about you, Tate and Jason; are you willing to help with the patrol shifts?” Bishop asked. Tate agreed right away and Jason, after seeming to mull it over responded, “I guess so.”
“If you’d rather not, Jason, that’s all right,” offered Bishop, but we can sure use the help of all the able-bodied men.” With the last statement Jason seemed to become more alert and puff up a bit. Tanner knew immediately that his father was trying to make Jason feel like he was part of the team and that any vestiges of the encounter they had had that afternoon were now long forgotten. And, it seemed to work.
“Okay,” Bishop said, “Jason and I will take the first shift, then Tanner and I will take the second one. Jack, if you and Tate will take the next one, then Bud and Colby can take the last one.”
“Seems like you’re getting the worst of the bargain,” Jack exclaimed, to which the other men agreed.
“I don’t mind the extra shift because I don’t sleep all that well anymore anyway,” Bishop responded. “Besides, I’m going to start the barbecue for tomorrow’s big doings and this way I can keep an eye on the brisket.”
Carly knew that Bishop was not telling the truth, because he slept like a rock for at least eight hours a night, but she let it pass because she knew he was trying to make sure the others stayed with their families as much as possible and got some rest.
Melanie raised her hand as if she was in school and Bishop immediately pointed her way. “I’ll be the time keeper,” she said.
“How will you do that without electricity,” asked Maria?
“I have a wind-up travel clock at the house and I’ll just set it to the mantel clock,” she said, pointing to the Ingraham clock, “and then set the alarm to go off every two hours.”
“That’s pretty smart, Mel,” Bishop exclaimed. “Then all you have to do is go out on the deck with an auto safety light I’ll give you and you can signal to the shift that their time is up. Then they’ll awaken the next shift. The auto safety light I have is battery operated and flashes alternately red and white. Once the shift comes by the deck you can turn it off until the end of the next shift. Good thinking, Mel, but it means you’ll be awakened every two hours, you know!”
“When you’re working hospital shifts you get used to catching naps whenever you can and rising whenever your alarm goes off or your hospital code is sent over the P.A. And you get used to being fully awake, immediately,” she concluded.
“Well, thanks, Mel,” Bishop added.
“It’s almost 10:00, according to Bishop’s clock,” Jack stated, “so, I’d suggest that Mel get her clock and everyone else head home and get some rest.”
“Sounds good to me, Jack,” responded Bishop. “I’m going to light the smoker now and I can put the brisket on to slow cook after my first shift with Jason is over. Let’s plan to sleep in a little bit in the morning, have breakfast at our homes, and then gather back down here somewhere near noon, when the sun is almost directly overhead. We’re going to have the best Morningside Mavericks’ 4th of July party ever,” he added.
Melanie left to get her clock and the other women helped Carly gather the leftover food, cups, paper plates, and plastic utensils and put it all into a large garbage bag. Nothing would be worth saving anyway. The food containers and utensils were stacked on the kitchen counter. Carly and Tara would rinse them off later with a bucket of water taken from the sink, and then hand-dry them. The dirty water was poured through a kitchen strainer to remove any food particles and then saved to use in the toilet tank.
Melanie came back, carrying her clock, set it to the mantel clock which showed 10:00 p.m. and set the alarm for 12:00 midnight, 2:00 a.m., and 4:00 a.m. They had all agreed that if no fires started by the end of the 4:00–6:00 a.m. shift, they weren’t likely to, and everyone should try to get some sleep. They also agreed that if a fire got started one of them would rouse the rest of the group so that none of their houses would be threatened.
Thus started the first night of what would be thousands of nights to follow, as the Morningside Mavericks began a new era, the Post Solar Event (PSE).◘
Chapter 9
Assessment
The Fourth of July dawned like any other July day except for the aurora still dancing in the sky, the acrid smell of smoke in the air, the lack of electricity, and the feeling that this was only the beginning. Otherwise, it was like any other July day.
As if awakened by some internal alarm clock, both Bishop and Tanner arose as the sun first peeked over Horse Mesa. Men of habit, they both brushed their teeth with a small glass of water dipped from the sink and then poured the gray water into the bucket beside the toilet. After using the toilet they each refilled their respective toilet tanks with the remnants of the previous night’s dish water.
They both appeared in the great room dressed in L.L. Bean khaki, cargo-pocket, hiking shorts and low-cut hiking shoes with sweat socks. They each wore a mottled gray tee shirt that read, “Property of ASU Athletic Department,” and had their Tilley hats in hand. Each had a bandana around his neck, something that was now habit after having previ
ously scorched the backs of their necks on hikes.
“I think it’s time we have a look-see at what this CME hath wrought,” said Bishop, trying not to express the misgivings he secretly felt.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” responded Tanner.
Bishop left a note for Carly telling her where they had gone and that they would return soon to have breakfast with the family, all of whom seemed to be sleeping peacefully. They exited the house as quietly as possible and didn’t speak until they were on the Morningside pavement.
“Just a minute,” said Bishop, as he headed back to the house. He returned shortly carrying their walking sticks and a Tupperware of his famous, yet secret, barbecue sauce. “These might come in handy,” he said, referring to the walking sticks, “and I almost forgot to baste the brisket this morning,” he added as he went to the smoker and proceeded to heavily baste the huge chunks of meat. “Smells good enough to eat right now,” said Bishop, “but I guess it will be perfect around noon time.”
“Things seemed to be quiet last night, Dad,” offered Tanner, “at least on my watch. I’m glad Jason offered to accompany me so you could get some rest. He’s quite an interesting young man. Beneath his rebellious, drug affected, exterior is really an intelligent, likeable person. I think he just needs someone to really take an interest in him. Obviously, Colby and Maria both love him but they’ve put their attention elsewhere; maybe when he needed it the most: Colby with helping to build Thomas & Son and Maria with two other young ones to deal with.”
“I think you’re right, son; I got the same impression as we walked the neighborhood last night. He seems drawn to the two of us, for some reason. He may just surprise everybody in the coming days, especially himself. I think there’s more inside him then even he imagines.
“I’m glad there weren’t any additional fires to deal with during the night and no winds to kick things up.”
As they walked along Morningside, they could see the still smoldering ruins of what had once been the multi-family developments along Raintrail. There was no sign of life, maybe because of the hour or maybe because there just wasn’t any.
Sinagua Rising: A story of survival after a worldwide catastrophe Page 8