Bishop was totally blind. The final pinhole of vision had gone three years earlier, taken by the growing glaucoma, as he knew it would. With Carly’s death, Kiera had moved in with Bishop and Dolly, and Chloe’s adopted kittens, now full grown. Chloe had passed away the year before Carly at the age of 13. Dolly and the cats were great friends—or at least tolerated each other—and it wasn’t beyond Bishop to be holding and petting one of the cats while Dolly slept on his feet. He was still independent in thought and actions but, at times, a slight nudge by Dolly, or Kiera, helped him avoid an obstacle. He liked Kiera’s company. Sometimes they talked deep into the night, as he had with Carly, because he couldn’t tell night from day. Bishop had yielded his role as leader of Duwa to Tanner, with the approval of the community, but was still the elder whose guidance and opinion they sought on more than one occasion. It was already obvious that both Jason and Jessie had the leadership skills to succeed Tanner when the time came.
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The day dawned with its normal crispness. Small puffy white clouds scudded across the otherwise bright blue sky. Birds were singing brightly in the forest of young trees Travis had planted and tended in Duwa and on the mesa above the north and west sides of the Valley, and hawks and ravens floated in gentle circles above the Valley watching for their next meal in the corn and wheat fields..
Villagers were busy tending the fields that in another three months would be dense with corn, beans, and squash. The fruit trees in the plaza and the apple trees in the orchard in Woods Canyon would soon begin blooming and the perfume of their blossoms would pleasantly scent the air. They would be dutifully tended by Travis’ growing bee colonies.
Even the very young children were busy, collecting eggs in the chicken coop and feeding the cracked corn/wheat mix, stored from last year’s crop for that purpose, to the chickens.
Once the chores were completed the adults would tend to providing maintenance and repairs on the more technical infrastructure of the village: the solar pumps, water system, and the solar and wind systems that provided the energy that allowed them to have the conveniences they had been accustomed to.
The young people would adjourn to the indoor and outdoor education areas where they would continue to learn the basics of language, reading, writing and arithmetic. They would also learn about the history of Duwa. The older youths would learn about the operation and maintenance of the water, energy, and sanitary systems so that, one day, they could replace the elders with those responsibilities. The late afternoons were left free for playing, reading, and other social activities.
A group of the village’s hunters had left early that morning to venture down into the Red Rock Valley in search of deer, a sure sign that there would be a feast in Duwa within the next couple of days. They would hunt only with bow and arrow, and atlatl thrown spears. The guns and ammunition now all resided in the gun safe, away from children’s curiosity and carefully maintained in the event they might ever be needed for defense.
It was an idyllic day. It was almost noon.
Suddenly, alert to the fact the birds had ceased singing, the Duwanians stopped what they had been doing. The sound of the birds was now replaced by frenzied cackling of the chickens. The dogs started barking and the howling of coyotes could be heard in the distance along the mesas.
The sky seemed to get darker, though the sun was out, but they couldn’t look at it because of its intensity and had to shield their eyes. The children began running for the shelter of the Big House and their homes. They scrambled for the tower entrance—the grand staircase had been removed. The adults knew what was happening was just a solar eclipse, this time just a partial one, and they had been through the total eclipse back in 2017. But, the children, most of them not even born then, were experiencing it for the first time, were frightened until their parents comforted them and explained the phenomenon to them. When the eclipse was over, which was only about two hours and only covered about two-thirds of the sun at its maximum, everyone went back to their tasks—with the adults breathing a sigh of relief that this solar event was only an eclipse, and not a CME.◘
Epilogue
Still in the shadow of Horse Mesa, Dry Beaver Creek lay dark and somber but, on the mesa above, as if gilded by the rising sun, shown the village of Duwa.
Colored banners flew from the towers, flapping in a light northerly breeze. It was now 20 PSE and the Duwanian world was full of color and excitement—they would be celebrating the 20th anniversary of Duwa’s founding in the same way it had been celebrated two decades earlier and each year since: with a barbecue, music, and storytelling around the evening campfire. The stories the children liked the most told of the many adventures the Duwanians had survived and of the bigger-than-life people who had guided them throughout. The stories of the original solar storm, the move to Horse Mesa and Duwa, and how it got its name, the discoveries at the Ranger Station, Tess’s escape from the Scorpions, the Scorpion War, and the big fire, were among their favorites. And, they always booed when the story of the General who wanted to take them away from Duwa was told. And, no celebration was complete without Philip playing some of the CDs Jack had brought to the village that first year, played on his boombox, which had been religiously maintained by Philip. The children danced around the campfire or room, just like the children had that first year, not really understanding what the songs were about, but loving the rhythms.
The youngest, of course, had never known the founders of Duwa, the Morningside Mavericks, as they were told, because all of them were gone now, buried in the wildflower field, where each grave was now marked by a simple, small rock cairn, mostly to protect the grave from being dug up accidently for another grave. The oldest remaining elder was now Jorge Escalante, and he had not been a Maverick. He was 65.
Tanner, who was now the leader of Duwa, was 55, and Tara, Michael, Elle, Kristen, Matt, Colby, and Maria, the children of the Mavericks, were all in their late 50s.
Philip, Jason, Tate, Jessie, Tess, Jaime, Tina, Manny, Kiera, Trey, Olivia, Kathleen, Todd, Javi, who was almost 22, and Storm, who was now 20, had assumed most of the key responsibilities of the community, having been well-trained by the founders. Kiera and Mattie, who had been friends since childhood, and likewise Javi and Storm, were married and had children of their own. Even Hank and Mattie and their children now lived in Duwa, having moved back from Stenton Farm five years earlier to be closer to Michael and Elle. The latest generation knew nothing of life outside Duwa, except that which they learned from visits to Stenton Farm, Hauptman Farm, and Scorpion Meadows. The exchanges with the other farms had been productive for the entire alliance, trading goods, technical skills, and ideas. It was always a treat when they visited Duwa and shared a feast of venison, beef, or pork, and a campfire.
Many years earlier, one of the visitors had brought his dog, a Sheltie, with him and a new line of mixed breed Sheltie and Border Collie was started. All the original pets were now gone but new ones had been introduced. Even Burrito was gone—but never replaced. However, goats had been added and now used Burrito’s former shelter and happily munched on the Bermuda grass that had been seeded and now grew lushly on the promontory. The goats provided milk for the newest Duwanians and meat to supplement the venison and beef in the village’s diet.
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The relationships between the farms had matured to the point that they began to rely on each other for certain products. For instance, Hauptman Farm had reduced its corn production in order to increase its cotton production, trading cotton to Duwa for honeypots and applebutter. The Duwa apple orchard was thriving and had been producing fruit for almost five years. Stenton Farm had some of its own apples but didn’t have bees, at least not domesticated. But it did have hay, so honey was traded for hay for Duwa’s chicken coop. None of the other farms wove their own fabric from cotton, though Hauptman Farm had tried unsuccessfully; so Duwa traded cotton fabric and their highly prized quilts for pork from Stenton Farm, she
ep’s wool and meat from Scorpion Meadows, and salt and cotton from Hauptman Farm.
And, the exchanges weren’t just for products. Intermarriages between the four communities had ensured that each community would continue to thrive.
Hotel Duwa had been converted from tents to a low, single story, six-room pueblo, with bunkbeds to sleep four in each room and skylights to light the interior. It now occupied the same location on the old parking lot as the old tent hotel had.
Due to the increased number of weddings that had taken place, a small pueblo-style building had been erected on the promontory where the original “honeymoon suite” had been. It still served the dual function of a “quiet refuge” when not in its matrimonial use.
Besides the quilts, honey, and applebutter that Duwa produced, the most important export was the dental service Jessie provided. She made sure the children, and adults, of Duwa had good dental care and the word spread to the other communities. Before long they were seeking her out when they came for visits, and she could ask almost anything in payment, but she didn’t. More often than not she would waive any kind of payment, or request a puppy or kitten for the children. She also looked after the medical needs of Duwa, having been trained by Mel in the basics. Kiera and Storm had expressed interest in assisting her and they were already great assistants. The most important book they had in their library was a book about medicinal plants that grew in the desert and canyon west. Jessie protected that book as if it was priceless—because it was—allowing her and her assistants to learn about and gather plants to supplement and, ultimately, replace the supply of medicines available to them. They were generally a healthy group but still needed assistance from time to time. It was not like having a pharmacy but it sufficed for minor ailments. It was kept in the safe.
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The greenhouse flourished under the aquaponics system, which still operated smoothly. They propagated their own fish and what they didn’t eat they released into the lake below the village for fishing and as a back-up supply should something happen to those in the aquaponics system.
The lake was now extremely large, going all the way upstream to below the waterfalls that carried excess water from the pools downstream. It went part way up one of the side canyons, as well. With water no longer being pulled off by wells or by the water plants on the lakes and streams that fed Dry Beaver Creek, there was plenty of water and the Duwanians had had to increase the height and breadth of the lower dam several times. The upper dam was left in its original design since there was no shortage of water to keep the lake full. The fish population in the lake flourished and the children loved to fish with bamboo poles and nylon line that was left from the “ancient days.”
Despite the large supply of vegetables the greenhouse provided, gardens were established on the promontory, where additional vegetables were grown during the spring and summer to increase the available food supply; particularly potatoes and onions. The fruit trees were well-fertilized by the fish tank bi-products, and grew bumper crops. Cuttings had been taken from the lemon and orange trees and now a decent-sized orchard grew along the west side of the valley, just below the fence and blackberry wall. The lemon trees were sheltered from the cold winds by the valley wall but still had to be covered with tarps during the winter. The strawberry gardens yielded so much fruit that they gave away berries to any visitors who wished them.
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Gasoline became increasingly difficult to obtain, requiring longer and longer forays to communities farther and farther from Duwa to fill the gas trailer. The other farms were the hardest hit because they didn’t have a gas trailer or reserves, so Duwa generously shared jerry cans of fuel. But they all knew obtaining fuel in the future would be a problem. As a result, the get-togethers were less frequent and more often than not were made on foot or with horse-drawn wagons. Stenton Farm and Scorpion Meadows had horses and the hay and alfalfa to feed them, but Hauptman Farm and Duwa did not. As a result, it was most often that the people from Stenton and Scorpion Meadow Farms came to visit Duwa, with Hauptman Farm’s folks walking to Scorpion Meadows and joining them, than Duwa making the visits, but not exclusively. The Duwanians were in great shape and walked almost everywhere. Gasoline was saved for the generators and heaters with which Tanner felt they could survive for many more years. And, for the ATVs in emergency situations. Use of the generator for recharging the two inventory computers had ceased years before, because they had no need of the computers, but they still continued to recharge the two-way radios as a means of communication when they went to the Village. Philip, as Jack had done, still monitored the short-wave radio, though less frequently, as nothing had been heard from anyone for years.
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Philip was the reincarnation of Jack, as Tate was Travis, and between them they kept the solar, water and food production side of Duwa operating. The solar system still provided most of their electricity, but Philip knew it wouldn’t be long before their supply of batteries ran out and the solar energy would only be available in daylight hours. They then would have to depend on the generators for energy at night—until the gasoline ran out—or greatly improve their wind generation, especially for running the aquaponics system. But he knew they could adapt, as they always had. The refrigerator and freezer still operated on solar but were getting very old and would have to be retired when they broke down.
Colby still oversaw the repairs to the structures and with Jason’s assistance made sure all the wooden surfaces were painted regularly. Jason was still in charge of security and still made his daily rounds on the mesa accompanied by Jaime, but it was more to just have a quiet walk than for security concerns. Sometimes Kathleen would join him instead of Jaime and, hand in hand, they would recall the early days when their friendship began.
Jason, Colby, and others, made frequent forays into the Village in search of paint and other useable items. From time to time they made major discoveries that, by the luck of the draw, were still useable, like curtains or linens or books. But those finds were the exception, not the rule, as the years passed.
The most notable observation of their forays was how nature had taken over. Cloth materials were rotting and disintegrating. Steel and iron structures were corroding and, over time, would collapse. Concrete structures were cracking and, over time would collapse, as well. Roads were eroding and deteriorating and were being taken over by plants, and trees. The abandoned vehicles had been reduced to rusted husks and plants and vines were beginning to entomb them. The golf courses, yards, and open spaces had already been reclaimed by wild tangles of vegetation. Any wood not painted was rotting and wood structures were collapsing, and that’s why they searched regularly to replenish and stockpile their paint supply. It was no longer a question of color—just what was available.
There was a noticeable growth in animal and bird populations because of increased forage and only subsistence hunting. Even the Black Bear, which had at one time flourished in the upper reaches of Woods Canyon but had been hunted nearly to extinction in the 1980s, had once again multiplied and re-established their presence in Woods Canyon. The bears would provide meat and hide blankets in the future. Canadian Geese, who had overflown the Village in past years, now found their way to the stubble of the Duwa corn and wheat fields and used it as a stopover on the summer and winter journeys, providing another food source for Duwa. Feral cats and dogs were everywhere in the Village but had stayed away from Duwa—probably staying away from people. Mountain lion tracks were seen regularly along the mesa, including some smaller tracks of cubs, but they avoided Duwa, as game was readily plentiful throughout their range, and it was inbred in them to avoid humans.
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The Ranger Station buildings, derelict from the beginning of the post solar storm days, had collapsed and been taken over by vegetation. The storage sheds, whose contents had provided so much to their survival, had collapsed on the vehicles and equipment stored in them and
were likewise overgrown. Even the large truck that had previously blocked the opening in the fence until it had been moved farther back into the yard, now sat on rotted tires and had become a large, rusty skeleton. Fortunately, the vehicles in the former Activity Tent were protected and routinely maintained, as was the backhoe, which was parked near the tent and covered with the canvas from the old First Aid tent, and thereby protected, or they, too, would have gone the way of every other vehicle in the Village.
On one of their visits to the Village several years earlier, they had found an old lawn mower, the reel kind, and that was used to mow the Bermuda grass on the plaza after Burrito died. With careful sharpening of the blades and oiling of the reel and wheels, the mower would survive for many years to come—just in case the goats didn’t do their job efficiently.
Colby, Matt, and Jorge had years ago installed flagstone walkways around the entire plaza, including entranceways to all the units and buildings. Drains were installed at key low points, using some of the steel mesh planks they had long ago used to cross the marsh by the Ranger Station, and then captured the water in remnants of sewer pipe to drain over the side of the promontory and into Duwa Valley.
As equipment and furnishings became unusable for their intended use, they were either used for fuel for the campfires or, if unburnable, were stored in the old cave below the mesa, a natural time capsule for some future archaeologist. The motorhome continued to be their shelter from the elements when they were down in Woods Canyon tending the orchard or hunting for beef. They had long ago put the motorhome up on blocks as the tires began to deteriorate. The cattle herd had grown greatly over the years because the hunters had been judicious in culling the herd, hopefully insuring a reliable source of beef for generations to come.
Sinagua Rising: A story of survival after a worldwide catastrophe Page 56