“How long before we get fruit?” asked Tate.
“Well, those that already have fruit or buds on them now will fruit again next year. The rest will take two to three years. Of course, with the indoor greenhouse growing environment we’re building they could bear fruit sooner and more often. We’ll just have to see,” Travis responded. “In early spring we’ll transplant a couple of the trees outdoors, as well as those indoors, and we’ll see how well they do comparatively. I’m thinking of planting one of the orange trees in one of the small kivas and probably one of the decorative deciduous trees in the other. Both will give us some shade and beautify the plaza, don’t you think?” he asked. The boys agreed.
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On the morning of November 4th, they knew the date later because Carly had written about the weather in her journal, they awoke to a stiff breeze blowing from the south. It was warm and humid, too warm and humid for November.
When they looked to the north they saw great purple and silver thunderheads like mushrooms piling up into the heavens. And the sky was the color of gray ash. Sheets of rain, like gauze, trailed the storm clouds and then massive bolts of lightning shot through the purple thunderheads and down to the ground. It was a massive, spectacular, and fearful display. It was also mesmerizing. Over the next several hours they watched the storm move their way, saw the huge lightning bolts, and heard the earsplitting clap of the resulting thunder. There were so many cloud-to-ground lightning bolts they lost count. Tanner speculated that numerous fires would be ignited by the lightning and only hoped they would not follow the storm south, racing through the piney woods to their north. It was as if the north and south winds were in competition with each other; slowly, inexorably pulling each other to a calamitous meeting—right over Duwa.
At lunch they could talk of nothing else and had to speak up to be heard over the thunder’s roar. And then came an earthshaking, thunderous explosion, forewarned only by the hair standing up on the backs of theirs necks, followed closely by multiple explosions. The lightning strike was close by and once the shock had passed they ran out to the alleyway to see what had happened. They were pelted by rain from the trailing side of the storm clouds as the north wind had overcome the weaker one from the south and was now moving with deliberateness toward Phoenix.
They could see nothing in the immediate environs of Duwa but then Tanner pointed out a major smoke plume beyond the mesa in the direction of Tequa and the Hilton Hotel. Tanner indicated that he and Jason would go check it out after the storm passed.
When they reentered the Meeting Hall they found Mel tending to Kathleen. It seems the tension of the moment and the sudden earsplitting thunderclap had somehow incited Kathleen’s water to break—she was in labor. Mel moved her slowly to the medical tent followed closely by Jason who, unknown to the others, had been receiving instruction from Mel in how to assist Kathleen with her breathing during the labor and delivery. This was not a task Jason had sought, but Kathleen had requested. Michael immediately began reheating the water on the stove and Elle scurried along behind Jason to try to be of assistance.
It was a short delivery, so that by dinner time that night the Duwanians had their newest member, a girl, that Kathleen named “Storm.” It was hard to know who was prouder, Kathleen or Jason, though both came through the ordeal in high spirits, as did Mel and Elle. Estella and Maria had to take care of preparing dinner that night because Michael was a nervous wreck, but a proud grandpa. All agreed that the name Kathleen selected was, indeed, appropriate.
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That evening, as they relaxed after dinner, a noise, like a freight train, could be heard and grew to a crescendo within just a few minutes. Tanner knew immediately what it was—a flash flood. The storms to the north had flowed into the drainages, then into the small creeks that finally fed Dry Beaver Creek. Each side canyon contributed to the growing flood and now disgorged its collective fury on Woods Canyon. The only concern Tanner and Jack shared was that the windmill at the pools would be damaged. If it was spared, the flood would sweep on past the swimming area and then lose its punch as it spread out in the large floodplain below Wild Horse Mesa.
The two men grabbed their ponchos, fire boots, and flashlights and followed the trench line to the windmill. There it stood, its blades spinning rapidly in the wind, pumping water into the storage tank which, just as quickly, spit it back into the pool below. The storage tanks were full. Because the windmill was set back in an alcove of the large pool, the surge of the flood had shot on by on the main channel, crashing into the channel again below the pools. There was a tremendous amount of water, testimony to the size of the storms to the north and the ability of the watershed to disperse the water into the Dry Beaver Creek basin; a good sign for the future water supply of the village. Jack decided to disengage the windmill until the strong winds diminished, so it wouldn’t be damaged.
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By the next morning the storm was well to the south, pelting the Valley of the Sun with rain and providing an extravagant lightning show. The Duwanians breathed a collective sigh of relief as they dressed for breakfast, but when they exited their tents they were greeted by a very light snowfall. The snow wasn’t sticking on the tents or in the Duwa Valley but could be seen capping the red rock formations in the distance. With the snow a stillness lay over the village, broken only by the hungry cry of Storm. It was her feeding time, too.
Both new mother and baby had done well the previous night attended by Mel and Elle. It was as if the snow now signaled a new beginning in Duwa; a clean, white start, as it were.
After breakfast, Jack reengaged the windmill while Tanner and Matt took one of the ATVs to check out the source of the huge explosion they had heard the previous night. Jason was supposed to accompany Tanner but was reluctant to leave Kathleen’s side. One would have thought he was the father!
There was nothing to be seen at the Ranger Station but a foreboding smoke plume was rising from the direction of Tequa. The scene before them confirmed their worst fears, the Hilton and Tequa Village looked like a war zone. Smoldering ruins and, here and there, a few bizarre remnants of the buildings were all that remained. Matt speculated that the lightning had made a direct strike on the Hilton and the concussion and electrical charge in the air had ignited propane tanks and natural gas pockets, resulting in the smaller explosions and dispersed fires that had swept the area.
When they reported to Bishop and the others what they had found, Michael suggested that once the fires had gone out he would like to try to salvage any of the cooking pots and pans and stainless steel prep tables that might still be useable. In the meantime, they all agreed, they could only let the fires burn out. They were glad they had “liberated” so much of the useable food and supplies early on.
“I’m certainly glad we saved the books from the library,” exclaimed Carly, “that would have been a monumental loss for ourselves and our descendants.”
Throughout the day the snow continued to fall, as did the temperature; a sure sign winter was just around the corner.
Stalks of the winter wheat they had planted poked their heads through the white fluff that now began to accumulate. There would be no harvest this year but the erosion prevention the stalks provided helped assure them that top soil would be available for any planting they did in the spring.
Jackson and Belle romped through the haze of snow and the children stood on the alleyway catching and tasting the flakes that drifted through openings in the cover. Chloe just stood in the screened doorway, taking it all in until Carly closed the door to keep the cold air out of the tent.
For the first time, they lit some of the heaters in the Meeting Hall and temporary greenhouse in the evening, a silent admission that their first winter adventure was about to begin.◘
Chapter 34
Winter
Once the snow had melted and the ground became firm enough to run the ATVs up and down the mesa trail, Tanner, Michael,
Travis, and Jason pulled a utility trailer down to the Ranger Station maintenance yard and transferred the trailer to Tanner’s Jeep. Travis and Jason took Jack’s 1999 Ford Ranger pickup that had been stored in the yard, and told the others they would meet up in Tequa as soon as he had made a quick stop at his home. Everyone knew the primary mission was to recover any restaurant equipment still usable after the fire, but no one knew what Travis’ side mission was, except Travis.
As Travis pulled up in front of his former home he suddenly realized how quiet and desolate their former vibrant neighborhood now was. Stripped of their doors, windows, solar panels, potted plants, greenhouse and anything else they could use in their new home, the neighborhood held none of its former charm. Snow still clung to those parts of the houses and yards shaded from the sun, having blown through the now windowless and doorless shells, and spread across the hardwood floors in the houses that formerly had been protected by heavy wax and a multitude of gorgeous throw rugs; the same rugs that now provided warmth on the tent floors in Duwa.
Travis told Jason, who never went anywhere without his trusty rifle, to keep an eye out while he went into the house. Jason had no idea what Travis was after but took seriously his security responsibilities. It wasn’t long before Travis came out carrying a cardboard filing box. Jason couldn’t see what was in the box because it had a lid on it, but was puzzled that Travis would be saving old files.
Travis went down the path beside his house to the back yard. This time he came back carrying a plastic storage box filled with dirt, and placed it in the back of the pickup. When he saw Jason looking inquisitively at him he explained, “It’s a box of worms for our gardens. I have to fill a couple more containers and then we’ll be ready to go.
Before he returned with another worm box he heard two rifle shots. He dropped his shovel and ran for the front. Jason was standing with his rifle laying across the hood of the truck, aimed down the street. Travis could see no one and asked: “Was that you shooting, Jace?”
“Yeah,” he responded. “Right after you went behind the house four guys came out of that house beyond the Westin’s place, carrying baseball bats and headed toward your truck. They must have been in the house and heard the truck or our talking. As they started toward the truck I stepped out with my rifle and suggested they stop. They asked me what I was doing and I told them you lived here; all the time they continued to walk toward me. I told them to just turn around, that I didn’t want to shoot anyone. They just laughed at me and kept coming. So I fired two warning shots at their feet. That stopped them, and they turned and hightailed it up the street. They ducked into one of those houses up toward the end, but I don’t know which one.”
“Okay, Jase, nice work. I have two more boxes to bring out so keep an eye out for our friends and I’ll be right back.” Within minutes Travis had shoveled more dirt into the two remaining boxes and loaded them into the truck.
“Since we don’t know exactly where they are,” Travis suggested, “let’s go around the block on Raintrail and maybe we can avoid them.”
There was no sign of the bat-wielding men as they made their way out to Verde Valley School Road and headed for Tequa.
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As Tanner and Michael entered the former Tequa Center they audibly gasped. It looked like it had been bombed. Jagged sections of steel and huge piles of rubble, some of which was still smoldering a week after the lightning strike, marked what had once been a quality hotel and an upscale retail center.
“I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it,” stated Michael.
“Shows the power of lightning and fire,” responded Tanner. “Of course, it must have been aided by multiple gas explosions and lots of flammable materials but, however it happened, it’s through burning now. I doubt we’ll find much in the way of useful equipment.”
Even the metal tables and chairs were just so much twisted rubble, testifying to the intensity of the heat.
“Let’s just check out the Rustica restaurant,” Michael suggested.
They parked by what remained of the once popular restaurant and walked through and around the rubble. In what had been the restaurant’s kitchen, Michael found what he had come for and, miraculously, they were seemingly unscathed: two, stainless steel prep tables. They were both covered by debris which possibly had provided some protection. Tanner and Michael were still removing the debris from around and on top of the tables when Jack and Jason arrived.
“My gawd!” exclaimed Travis. “Have you ever seen such devastation?”
“Only at Chapman’s Chevron,” replied Tanner for Travis’ benefit, since he had not seen Chapman’s after the explosion. “There’s just a lot more of it here.”
“Help us clear out the debris from around these stainless steel tables and we’ll load them into the trailer,” said Tanner.
On the bottom shelves of each table Michael found several large stainless steel pots and in the debris he found hanging racks that held large ladles, spoons, and forks which he loaded into the trailer, as well.
“That’s it,” Michael said. “I don’t think there’s anything else here that we need. Let’s call it a day and get home.”
They left the vehicles where they had found them in the maintenance yard and, putting the four boxes from Jack’s pickup into the trailer, they managed to get the ATVs and trailer up the trail to the village.
“I have a feeling that’s going to be our last trip out of here for a while,” said Tanner. “Fortunately, I think we’re pretty well set for the winter and we’ll have to make do with what we have.”
“Okay,” inquired Bishop when they had returned to the village, “tell me about those boxes of dirt, Travis.”
“Well, you see,” replied Travis with a wry smile, “I collect dirt samples from all over and these were my most precious samples. Never can tell when we might want to build a dirt museum.” And then he laughed. He dug his hand into the dirt in one of the boxes and held up a fistful of wriggling red worms. “If we’re going to have healthy soil, natural fertilizer, and eventually fish food, these little babies are worth their weight in gold,” he concluded.
“I liked your museum idea better,” joked Bishop.
No one said anything about the file box and Travis quietly placed it under his cot.
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October passed into November and it into December, as fall passed into winter. Life in Duwa wasn’t much different than it had been in the Village, except they didn’t have some of the conveniences and it tended to be colder inside the tents than it had been in their homes. But no one complained: at least publicly. They dressed warmly, in layers, and didn’t venture out when they didn’t have to.
They continued working on the interior of the new greenhouse, as they would all winter, in preparation for establishing the aquaponics system Travis had talked about and moving all the plants from the current greenhouse into the new one.
The fish tanks were aligned in the bottom of the kiva and walkways between them paved with crushed basalt. The aquaponics system Travis had hoped might be available within their first six months of living in Duwa would not be possible, but Travis hoped it could be finished in the spring.
The hum of the generator and whine of Colby’s table saw could be heard regularly as they precut the wood for the planter boxes and the glulams that would support those boxes. Once the boxes were built, they would begin the process of mounting them to take maximum advantage of the sunlight that would penetrate the greenhouse through the abundant glass panels they would install in the south-facing roof.
When all the wood construction was completed, it would be painted with deck varnish to protect it from moisture. No wood surface would be left unvarnished, including the T1-11 siding that would be painted with redwood colored deck varnish, blending in almost perfectly with the red rock masonry of the pueblos. It was a major undertaking that would take Bud, Cole, Matt, Jorge, and Travis most of the winter to complete.
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Carly stood in the three foot diameter water tub in the wash house soaping herself and musing on how this much appreciated facility had come about.
Through the end of October, though the water and ambient temperatures how cooled, they had all continued to bathe in the pools at the creek. They jumped in the pools, got wet, climbed out quickly, soaped and jumped back in to rinse off. They again quickly got out and toweled off. If the sun was shining brightly enough, and they always did this at mid-day while it was directly overhead, they would warm up on the rock ledge beside the creek. But most often they dried off, clothed, and headed back to the warmth of their tents. These bathing rituals became segregated by sex, except for the small children who bathed with the women. Unlike the Sinagua, they still had their modesty intact, but who knew what the future would hold.
Then the big storm came, the night Kathleen’s baby was born, and the flash flood. Since that time the creek was running too high and fast to be safely used for bathing—and it was too cold.
The women groused among themselves about the inconvenience of sponge bathing in the sinks in the restroom trailer and finally Carly said something to Bishop. Bishop, in turn, said something to Bud, who spoke with Colby, and the next day the sound of hammers and saws invaded the quiet of the village. By the end of the next day an aluminum shed had been built adjoining the restroom trailer. They used some of the decorative concrete blocks they had moved from Colby’s building site as footings for the new building. The floor was made of pallets, just like the walkway, and then covered with plywood where they would walk. The aluminum tub was placed near the back of the structure where a low table had been built to hold the five-gallon buckets containing the warm water Michael prepared for them. A stool sat beside the tub and a bench lined the wall closest to the door, where the bathers could place their clothes and towels.
Sinagua Rising: A story of survival after a worldwide catastrophe Page 40