by Ron Foster
Donald drove his old truck through an affluent neighborhood of older mansion like houses inhabited by mostly older rich people and wondered how they were fairing with a massive amount of welfare and food stamp recipients living just a few blocks away. The governor’s mansion was stuck in this old southern neighborhood a few streets over and was probably a likely target for an out of control protest, but he bet the Governor was not even there and had moved to some undisclosed command center day one. Donald had warned Janice about the possibility of uncontrolled fires springing up in the area if a full blown riot took off, which it would. Donald decided he would not go by the mansion but would instead try to see if anything was going on from the side streets leading to it on his left.
“Now you some dumbasses, he declared to himself as he viewed a bunch of white yuppies and elderly people looking like they were having some kind of a rally and making protest signs in a church parking lot. Wish I could see what the hell were on those signs.” Donald said to himself while slowing down and craning his neck to try to get a better glimpse.
“Do they think a news crew is going to come to see them or that an inevitable food stamp protest/riot that was going to be going on soon enough up the street would welcome them with open arms and not chew them up and spit them out? People didn’t have sense God gave a Goat if they thought any kind of demonstration was going to get food in their bellies. Hell, those signs might just of said “the end is near” or “repent ye sinners” or some other religious doomed crap. Note to self, watch out for a rise in religious fanatics of every ilk and demonstration. Uh oh! That can’t be good, Donald said to himself as he noticed police blue lights up ahead. Oh yea, that old neighborhood grocery store was up on the left there.” Donald said to himself as he made sure he got to the far side of the one way street he was on.
Two patrol cars and two bicycle cops had about eight suspects, most likely looters, arranged around the small parking lot to it.
“Boys you think you got it bad now, I can’t even imagine what the city or county jail is like. What the hell? Here comes a National Guard truck, are they transporting prisoners for the local law? I ain`t sticking around to find out and I wish I had thought this little trip through a bit better. Ok, time to take an alternate route. What is it I want to avoid? The court house, the sheriff department, the food stamp office, pardons and paroles, the mental health center, the bus station, also any high schools. Shit I will just have to evaluate my risks, too hard to list all the places in a downtown area that might be a hotspot to avoid. The hell with it, I am turning my butt around now before I get some kind of surprise I don’t need! Every one of these roads leads to the state capitol someway or another and I got the LA riots fresh in my mind of people getting dragged out of cars and beaten.” Donald thought as he reassured himself he could easily reach his pistol from a sitting position.
Donald turned his truck around and headed back towards Janices as soon as he could and gave up any notion of checking in as a disaster reservist at his Federal Agency.
That damn girl had better of made her mind up by now what she wants to do. I got my Mom to contend with and I am not going to stay around here and wait until the city is on fire to try and leave. She can go to Ramer, She can come with me or she can go to hell because I am not waiting any longer!” Donald fumed to himself as he angrily surveyed the streets in front of him for any indications of how desperate people now were.
27
The Great Unraveling
“Hey Michael, the savages from next door came visiting today. Well, the two brothers did by themselves anyway. I was out back mushing up some grapes in a bucket and Harley and Cat were out front just watching out what was going on in the neighborhood. I heard Harley barking and came around from the back of the house and Cat was yelling at them and asking what they wanted around here. They didn’t even make it part way down the drive. They hollered down to us that they were neighbors and just wanted to talk and I went up asked them what was it they wanted to talk about. They said they were out of food and could we find it in our hearts to spare some. I was civil but said we didn’t have enough for ourselves and was sorry I couldn’t give them any, but you should of seen the pie eyed look they had on their faces when looking at the AR I was carrying the whole time. They went home rather quickly and quietly soon enough though when I told them no and hell no they were not going to be getting any food from here.” LowBuck told Donald’s friend.
“Yea, I had a little talk with them on the way down here. They asked why we were all carrying guns now and I told them because we can and we sorta declared open hunting season on most everything that moved.” Michael replied mirthlessly.
“That idea about community hunts Donald had needs to be considered once again, but I ain’t arming them unsavory looking neighbors to participate.” LowBuck replied just as seriously.
“Me neither. Amy and Cat can guard the shed while we go talk to Bernie and old Mac about whets what today. Bubba, there are a few other folks on this road you don’t know about. We got us a hermit that lives in the woods and another family with teenage kids that are pretty good folks but I am having no earthly idea what they got in the way of food stuffs on hand now. I gave this a bit of thought last night and concluded that we are sort of damned if we do and damned if we don’t when it comes to contacting them. Everybody on this dead end street is going to be thinking the most likely place to get a meal or water is at Bernie’s. Those fish ponds of his are a magnet for the thirsty and hungry residents of this community. Those ponds are too small to support all of us with fish and he has some decent firepower down there to protect his interests somewhat, but he has said before he is not allowing the free taking of his resources without something in return for the privilege of allowing others to fish. Two things that are relevant that came out of Donald and his talking about the prepper community is, “You will get no warning if Bernie has the ass with you and he also knows Donald has some kind of food stored at his home, but Bernie does not how much Donald actually has. Bernie even started watching DoomsDay Preppers after talking to Donald and thinking about storing some food for himself and family so that’s a good thing I guess. The planting of wheat on his property in a SHTF situation Donald and he worked out long ago, but not much else in the way of being mutually supportive. That wheat won’t be up in time to save those who are not somewhat prepared already. There is not enough wheat seed to provide sprouts for folks to eat and thinning out the deer herd just makes good sense if we are going to be planting every patch of land we can clear to reduce their depredation. Labor to do all these tasks is one thing Donald knew he couldn’t prep for, so those neighbors of his might not be as useless as we think. I think organizing the community in some way is our best bet, because it appears we lack resources the same as the rest of them, but we do offer or have a tangible solution to a mutual problem as well as a civilized approach to avoid mass starvation. Lots of deer hunting savvy as well as scents and lures can be shared around here, as we have got lots of hunters in the community with that stuff around the house from their traditional hobbies. Neighbor helping neighbor is the way to go, but we still got to keep this place and most of the preps private so we look equal in food resources in the eyes of the community. We can’t be talking about those commercial snares and traps Donald has invested in he will be breaking out soon. We just got to look like successful trappers and an asset to the community because they think we use the primitive snares and traps to source food like Donald writes about. You know what? I wish he had just made a bunch of paper handout copies of how to build them instead of the drawings he has in his books he has on hand. We could have distributed them instructions and been done with it. Kids have been trapping and snaring for centuries and we need to teach these new ones the art so we all can eat, while they can use up some of that youthful energy they are blessed with in a positive manner.” Michael concluded.
“I think you have might have something there, most everybody will stay to themselves
pretty much unless they are going on a community hunt or work detail for the gardens. Probably most folks will tend to not to stray far on to each others properties either as from what Donald has said hunting boundaries is ingrained taboo, as a way of life around here and not to be trifled with by blatantly trespassing.” LowBuck said in agreement to Michael’s conclusions.
“We ought to see if Catherine will go visiting with us. She is sort of the country matriarch around here and noted for knowing old style healing methods with roots and herbs. She is a sweet woman, but don’t let that fool ya; she has got a double barrel shotgun and the tenacity of granny on Beverly Hills to point it in your direction if family or friends are threatened. Neat gal though, has tons of interesting stories. She told me about the time her mother and little sister were about 6 and 4 years old, individually. They decided they wanted to go after a particularly appealing sweet gum tree way back when. This tree had a scar that was just a oozing sweet milky sap out and big sister took the little one out to collect it for themselves. Their Mama was doing laundry in the backyard of the house in one of those big old cast iron hog boiler kettles and didn’t see the two younguns run off. In particular she didn’t see the 6 yr old grab a garden hoe to take care of the task. Well anyway, that sap was dripping way out of reach of the children in the tree and the oldest needed it to get that what they called a treat, country chewing gum. She swung at where the sap had accumulated and hardened a few times with that hoe and then missed the tree entirely and accidentally hit the baby in the forehead with the hoe as it came down. Knocked the littlest child out and sent her older sister screaming in fits to find her daddy that was plowing with a mule on the far side of a cotton field bordering where the sweet gum tree stood.
“Daddy! Daddy!” Catherine cried as she run towards her unaware sweating lanky father in overalls plowing up some red clay soil.
“”Little sister is hurt! She is bleeding and won’t wake up!” the horrified child cried.
“Where baby? Tell daddy where!” her father had asked trying to fathom what just happened.
“At the sweet gum!” Catherine choked out pointing with a childlike trembling stick of a finger.
To his horror, Buck can barely see an unmoving tiny mound in a snow white dress off in the distance.
“Where’s your ma at darling?” her Father asked as he hastily unhitched the mule. “She's doing the washing Daddy. I sorry I did bad but little sis needs you!” the distraught child tearfully admonished her Pa Pa to hurry.
“Sugar, Daddy’s coming. Is she bleeding?” Buck said as he wrestled the traces off the mule. “”She red DADDY! She red! Look's a fright.” The little girl said shivering and looking towards her sibling’s silhouette.
“Come on, girl!” Buck said snatching up Catherine and almost in the same movement mounting the mule bareback.
“HA! Get up mule!” Her daddy cried as he dug some well worn leather boot heels into the animal’s sides. “Run, Ginger!” Catherine squealed as they galloped across the cotton patch in the direction of her beloved “special” sister.
It would have been comical if it was not so tragic of an event to have witnessed. Buck had become
overwhelmed with worry and had Catherine tucked under his arm like a forgotten sack of potatoes and was hollering like a rebel trying to take Chandlerville to spur the old mule to greater speeds as he dodged tree stumps and mole holes along the way. He jumped off the mule and didn’t give the little girl tucked under his arm a moment of thought as he rushed over to the base of the tree to see about his bleeding baby.
“Vicky darlin? Sweet heart?” He tentatively checked out one of the sunshine’s of his life wound with dread in his heart.
The little girl murmured something close to ‘daddy’ and within seconds an elated old sharecropper had carefully picked her up and after finally acknowledging his other daughter under his arm seated them both in front of him on the old mule and took off hell bent for leather to the small shack they all called home. The nearest doctor was 40 miles away and Buck was beside himself on how he was going to get his little darling there in time. Maybe Sibly would lend him his buckboard and Tennessee Walking horse.
“MARTHAAA! Martha!” He called as he got close to the house.
“A shrill sharp whistle and a yodel answered him back as Martha heard him and she came a running. “Oh hell, I hope nobody's snake bit" she thought as she gathered up her dresses and hightailed it to the front of the shack her husband had built. Granny Parsons had just depleted her stock of snakeroot to treat old man Cummings and they lived far from modern medicine. Damn rattlers were as thick as thieves here abouts lately and the pygmy rattlers were just as dangerous as their giant timber rattler cousins except for fang size. Copperhead snake maybe? She hoped it was one of those; they ain’t nearly as deadly or destructive to skin tissue. Cottonmouth water moccasin? No, Lord the saints be praised, shouldn’t have been anyone at the creek she figured.
“What happened? Gimme the babies.” Said a shocked momma as she was handed her two blood soaked daughters.
“Cathrine is alright, it’s little Vicky that is hurt sore. She got a nasty gash on her forehead from something; I think it was a hoe.” Buck said beside himself in anguish and reaching gnarly red clay stained finger towards the wound.
“Get your grimy paws back, you are dirty as sin, let me see about this and I will tell you in a minute if you need to go borrow a horse. Sweetie, Mama Ma is here, Vicky do you hear me?” She said looking at a 3 inch gash in her beauty’s face as she tenderly explored the wound on her child’s forehead.
“MMGUGF… Mam Ma?” the child spoke. “Yes, baby it’s me. You stay still Me Ma make you all right. Your head hurt peanut?” Catherine’s momma said as she stroked the soft hair curls away from the wound.
“I didn’t mean it!” Catherine wailed. “ I really didn’t!” “I know baby, you and Daddy go talk about it while I see to little sister. Find out what happened, Buck, if you can. Looks like she is going to need a stitch or two, but Vicky will be alright with a bit of care and time to heal up. Go find me a big spider's web under the porch so she doesn’t scar much and I can stop some of this bleeding. We going to pack the wound with it like my granny taught me.” Myra said rushing off her interfering husband and daughter who reluctantly left her patients’ bedside.
“You know that woman never had a scar or went to the emergency room or that country doctor?” Michael concluded.
“Wow, man that was interesting, so this old woman can serve as a paramedic of sorts if need be based on her learning of some home remedy tricks from the past?” LowBuck asked.
“That and she has been researching and studying for years both modern and ancient herbalism. She is wise in more ways than one too, almost psychic about some things. It’s kind of spooky, but she sees things or feels things. Folks around here hold her in high regard.” Michael said, finishing his thoughts.
“Well, believe you me, I can relate to that and say please get her to join us. A witchy woman is just what the doctor ordered as far as I am concerned. Wise women are a gift to a community, but keep in mind we got some freaky religious rascals around here that may not view that talent in the best light. Yeah…probably ought not to refer to her as witchy, huh?” Bubba replied.
“In a crisis it isn’t irrational to expect an attack but on the same hand you don’t want to get negatively irrational about it. We got to try to realize most folks won’t have mayhem on their mind when they come by to ask for a handout of food. We would probably be thinking of doing the same thing if Donald hadn’t thought to provide a little insurance we could rely upon.” Michael cautioned wisely.
28
Zombie Arguments
“Damn it, Janice, sit your ass down and listen to me.” Donald said, worn out from the last hour and half or so of bickering with her to just bug out now before it was too late in his opinion.
“You got 10 minutes, and then I got to go over to my mother’s house.” Janice said finding a
plausible reason to get rid of him and his foul doomer mood until the morning when they could talk things out more calmly after some well thought out self reflections.
“Now then, this explanation of why I am packing my mom up and leaving in the morning will become self apparent if you just bear with me and listen for a few minutes okay?” Donald replied watching the tone of his voice this time so not to get into an argument with his best friend.
“Ok. But I still need to get over to mom’s and my sister. I am listening.” Janice said taking a seat and folding her hands in impatience waiting on his response. “There is an expression, coined by Lord Cameron of Dillington in the UK, which states, "We are nine meals away from anarchy." It was Lord Cameron's estimation that it would take just nine meals - three full days without food on supermarket shelves - before law and order started to break down, and British streets descended into chaos.Cameron's quote expressly depicts how quickly a population can descend into anarchy if supermarket and grocery store shelves remain barren for three days.
We already know this from previous studies that Ethics, morals, self-value systems, religious beliefs, and lawfulness will quickly disappear, as the need to feed will completely overwhelm the affected individual or a group of people’s minds.” Donald began.
“What studies?” You mean something like the holocaust?” Janice said not wanting to hear anything from that horrible era.
“Hard to answer that question directly but it was to help folks after WW2... At the end of the WW2 a nowclassic study was undertaken to prepare to re-feed the starving millions of people in Europe in the best possible way. The Minnesota Starvation Study set out to create a controlled starving population, and then find the best ways to return them to good health as fast as possible. The team of scientists studied 36 physically and emotionally strong and healthy young men over 12 months, who moved onto the campus of the University of Minnesota for the duration of the study.