The Journal: Martial Law

by Deborah D. Moore

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  John coasted his new motorcycle into Christine’s driveway in Greenwood, not knowing what to expect. He knocked gently on the front door.

  “Daddy!” Christine flew into his arms.

  “Hey, how’s my baby-girl?” John asked, hugging her tightly, relieved to see her.

  “You mean baby girls! Come in and meet your new granddaughter.”

  Trevor lifted himself from the floor, much to the dismay of the one-year old toddler who screamed her protest at losing her playmate, until their adopted golden retriever, Holly, nudged the baby, making her laugh.

  “Oh, my…” John mumbled, tears in his eyes. He held his arms out to the baby who quickly agreed to be picked up. “What’s her name?”

  “Alyce,” Trevor said. “After my grandmother.”

  John nodded, looking into his own blue eyes that Alyce had inherited. The baby tugged at his short beard and giggled.

  ***

  “How long can you stay, John?” Trevor asked after Christine left to put Alyce down for her afternoon nap.

  “Not long, maybe a week. I’m really anxious to get back north. After being gone for almost two years instead of two weeks, I don’t know what kind of reception I’m going to get… I may be back.” He laughed, though it was hollow, even to himself.

  “Dad,” Christine said, settling into one of the padded kitchen chairs. “For the past year checks have been arriving in your name. I didn’t know what to do with them so I put them into a savings account I opened in yours and my name. What are they?”

  “My FEMA paychecks.” John held them spellbound with what he had been doing for the last eighteen months. “And after my first six months were up, I stayed on and they paid me. The money is for Alyce. I’ll need some of it to get back to Ft. Wayne though.”

  “You could have all of it, John,” Trevor said. “The stores have been doing really well since the recovery began. Alyce is well taken care of.”

  “While that’s good to know, I want her to have it anyway.” John looked at his daughter. “I’m disappointed I couldn’t be here for her birth. I’ve missed so much.” He looked out the window, seeing nothing except his past and an uncertain future.

  “Daddy, did you have to…to kill anything while you were out there?” Christine questioned, noticing his faraway look.

  “Only alligators, snakes, wild cats, wolves, grizzlies. Fortunately, no men, but I was tempted,” he answered honestly and stared out the window, instinctively flexing his rope-burn scarred hands.

  “You still love Allexa, don’t you?” Christine pressed, taking a guess at the source of his melancholy.

  “More than ever.”

  ***

  “Tell me about this recovery,” John said to Trevor later over a chilled beer. “Out in the field it doesn’t feel like things are any better,”

  “The government is restructuring the economy and trying a new currency. We had to turn in all of our cash and get the new money a few months ago. There are a few glitches, though all in all though that seems to be working.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a real recovery. Is there enough food and enough work for everyone?” John pushed.

  “Actually, yes, and that’s the good news. The bad news is much of that is because diseases have been rampant. Some estimates are we’ve lost over fifty percent of the population. Some say more.” Trevor stared at the floor between his slippered feet. “To keep the numbers down, it’s highly suggested that couples not have any more children for a few years under penalty of forced abortion. That came into force after Christine was already pregnant, and since Alyce is our first we were in the clear. I’ve heard though that some remote areas aren’t enforcing that.”

  “So the recovery is, fewer people means more food and jobs for those left. Still doesn’t sound like a recovery to me, more like redistribution.” John stood and paced. “Where are Marty and Marion? I thought they were staying with you?”

  “They are. They live in the basement, away from the baby noises.” Trevor grinned. “Marion has been a godsend for helping Christine and she adores the baby. I think she’s napping now and I know Marty’s at work. The police force lost half the staff to the latest flu, and Marty is at the station interviewing replacements. Those two being here keeps all of the expenses down, theirs and ours. Come on, I’ll give you a hand setting up the sleeper couch downstairs. Alyce has your old room.”

  ***

  “Do you have to go so soon, Daddy?” Christine protested. “It’s only been a few days!”

  “It’s been six days, baby-girl. I do need to get to Moose Creek and find out if Allex wants me back. If not, I promise, I’ll come back here. Meanwhile, I need some new currency for gas to get to Ft. Wayne where I can trade in the cash I left there. Since cell towers are back up, I’ll get one of those prepaid phones and call you with the number.” John took his daughter by the shoulders and stared into her blue eyes. “You have made me so proud, Chrissy. You have a beautiful daughter and you’re a great mother. I love you and I promise to come back and bring Allex with me.” John hugged her close so she couldn’t see the tears in his eyes.

  At that moment, his future was so uncertain.

  ***

  Outside of Ft. Wayne, Indiana, John was pulled over by a state police cruiser.

  “License, ID, and registration, please,” the officer said.

  John stood, straddling the big bike, and pulled out his wallet. He handed over his driver’s license and new FEMA picture ID.

  “Motorcycle registration?”

  “Officer, I just spent the last eighteen months in rescue work in Florida and Oklahoma. Most of my personal paperwork was lost on the way. I’m lucky to still have these. Here’s my boss’ card, he will verify where I’ve been,” he said, handing over Hank’s card. “Was I speeding? I wasn’t aware the speed limits were changed.”

  “No, Mr. Tiggs, you weren’t speeding. There just aren’t many bikes on the road these days and most of those riders aren’t the kind we want around.” The officer handed John back his documents, including Hank’s business card. “May I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “What is it like out there? In Florida, I mean. I’ve heard it’s really bad.”

  “It is. I got daily target practice shooting alligators and big snakes, sometimes exotic animals that escaped from the zoos, all to keep the people we were helping stay safe,” John replied.

  “That was brave work, sir. Thank you for your service and dedication to our government. If you have any problems within the state of Indiana, get in touch with me.” The officer gave John his business card and shook his hand.

  ***

  John parked his dusty motorcycle at the curb of his ranch house in Ft. Wayne. He looked around to make sure he wasn’t being watched while he retrieved the hidden key to the attached garage. After letting himself in he decided the key needed a new spot and set it down on the workbench to attended to later.

  He turned on the lights and breathed a sigh of relief seeing the pale green Subaru still parked where he left it. The other side where his SUV should have been was of course empty, a casualty of his incarceration. He lifted the door and drove his bike inside.

  He got a spare set of house keys out of the bottom of a rusty coffee can filled with mismatched rusty nails and entered the stale air of his house. The weather was still mild and as he wandered through the rooms he opened windows to air the place out. Even after being gone for eighteen months, the refrigerator was still humming and keeping a couple of old beers cold. He popped one open and let the cool fizz slide down his dry throat.

  ***

  After a restful night of sleep, John retrieved the old cash from his house safe and from the Subaru. He got an empty gas can from the garage and put it in the now empty saddlebag on the bike and headed to the bank.<
br />
  “This is a great deal of cash, Mr. Tiggs,” the branch manager said nervously. “It was supposed to be exchanged months ago.”

  “I understand that, however, I’ve been on an eighteen month relief tour with FEMA.” John set his picture ID in front of the man behind the desk. “Most of this I want deposited in my account here at this bank that I have automatic bill pay on. I only want a couple thousand in the new currency to make some purchases.”

  “Yes, that can be arranged. Excuse me.” The branch manager quietly let out a sigh of relief that John’s money was being deposited, knowing he didn’t have enough new currency to exchange it all. When he sat down again he slid a plastic card toward John. “This is your new debit card for your account, and here is the new money.” Two stacks of red printed bills were placed on the desk. “May I ask you a question, Mr. Tiggs?”

  “Sure.” John thought people were very curious lately.

  “Is it really as bad as the news says it is?”

  “Knowing how the news slants bad situations to avoid panic, I would say it’s worse.” He picked up his new money and left the bank under the watchful eye of the guard.

  ***

  After filling the gas can, John went home to begin the tedious chore of draining the old gas from the Subaru and flushing it with new gas. Once he got it running, he drove it to one of the few auto shops still open.

  “You got time for an oil change and a tune up?” John asked, looking at the empty bays.

  “Sure, anything you’re having trouble with?” The nametag on his shirt said Les, Owner.

  “The car has been sitting for almost two years. What do you recommend?”

  They went over a list of things to get the car running smoothly. John left the shop and wandered the area on foot, stopping for lunch at a pizza place when his stomach rumbled. Three hours later he was back at the shop.

  “All done, Mr. Tiggs. I re-flushed the gas, changed the oil and all filters, flushed the radiator, recharged the air conditioner, gave it a complete tune up with new plugs and a new starter coil, checked all the belts, and replaced one of the hoses. It’s all itemized on your bill,” Les said handing John the paperwork. “I must say I appreciate the business.”

  John peeled off the necessary bills from his stack of new money and added an extra hundred. “I appreciate you doing this so quickly. Thank you.”

  ***

  When John parked in his garage again, he realized he had no excuse to delay leaving. He ordered another pizza to be delivered, and finished off the beers. It was April, and past time to face what was ahead.

  In the morning he closed the house down again, returning the spare keys to their new hiding places, and headed north…to Moose Creek.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Journal Entry January 2

  Winter started way too early last August and although it started harsh it was relatively mild and ended after the usual four months. I’m already thinking of the next garden and trying not to dwell on the frozen ones or all the other tragedies during those months.

  ***

  Tom White, mayor of Moose Creek, Allexa Smeth, Art Collins, and Harold Wolfe sat on the large wooden deck that overlooked Lake Meade, enjoying the warm breezes of the very early spring. No one mentioned the absence of the colonel.

  “With everything that went on during this early winter, I never had a chance to ask you, Harold, how the marathon canning went. I did notice how busy you were and didn’t want to interfere. Did you have any problems?” Tom asked.

  “No real issues to speak of, Tom. Had there been problems, I would have contacted either you or Allexa. I want to thank you for extending the generator time those extra two hours. It made a big difference in how much we got done,” Harold said. “It also really helped when Loraine Misko showed up. That woman really knows how to can. And talk about efficient! She got done more than I did.”

  “Were there any arguments on how to distribute the food?” Allexa asked, knowing it was a concern they all had.

  “No. Once I explained how it would go, everyone felt it was fair,” Harold said with a smile. “The last place I spent canning season at was similar in that most everyone had a single crop. That crop belonged to them, along with a share in the community garden. If they ended up with ten cases of corn and wanted to keep it all, they could. Most decided to keep two or three cases and put the other cases up for barter in a central location. Here, that was my kitchen, on those shelves Jason built that I hadn’t planted yet. I had a shelf of corn, green beans, and carrots, and so on, plus all that was preserved from the community garden. The person who put their cases of corn out for exchange took it back in a variety, still ending up with ten cases, or however many they started with. Those that didn’t have a single crop but worked for the community and helped with the canning got an equitable share. It was an even exchange and everyone was happy, even after I took my ten percent.”

  “Ten percent?” Tom sat up straighter in his chair. “For what?”

  “Mr. Mayor, I provided a great deal of my time and knowledge to these folks, and I have to eat too. Since I didn’t get a garden planted for my own food, I felt it only fair they pay me.”

  “I think that is a more than acceptable trade,” Allexa said, jumping to Harold’s defense. “Did you get enough?”

  “When Loraine and I pooled our resources, yes, we had enough,” Harold said, slightly embarrassed. “I’m sure you’re aware that Loraine moved in with me. She’s a good woman. Don’t worry, she knows this is a temporary arrangement and that eventually I’ll be leaving.”

  “You’re leaving?” Art asked. His group had their own preserving to do and with the arrival of the winter weather, were very busy and not involved with Moose Creek issues.

  “Speaking of that, do you have a timetable for leaving yet?” Tom asked. “I want you to know you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. You’ve become a great addition to our community.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Harold politely nodded. “I’m not sure. I didn’t get nearly as many seeds saved due to the early onset of winter. I do have plants started now, however, the best seeds mature naturally and that takes time.”

  “Take all the time you need, Harold,” Allexa added. “I’m sure the town folk would appreciate your expertise in getting this year’s gardens in. I know I’m anxious to start digging in the dirt, even though it might be a bit too early.”

  “True, and I plan on waiting a few more weeks myself to make sure the weather is stable.” Harold stood to leave. “Have either of you been to the shore lately?”

  They now referred to Lake Superior as “the shore.”

  “I was there a few days ago. The water continues to rise at the expected slow and steady pace,” Tom commented.

  “I’m going to take that as a good sign,” Allexa replied. The once warm breeze suddenly became cool then cold, and a mass of dark clouds blotted out the weak sun. A flash of lightning inside one of the black clouds followed by a crack of thunder sent them rushing indoors.

  “That sure came up quick,” Tom noted. The calm water of Lake Meade began churning and whitecaps lapped at the sandy shore.

  Allexa sighed. “I think we will continue to see this extreme weather and the suddenness of change for a long time to come.”

  “If that’s the case, gardening may suffer.” Harold slipped on his jacket without further comment.

  “Before you go, Art, I’ve been meaning to ask you, how are Pete and Lenny?” Allexa asked.

  “They’ve been doing fine, Allex. As you already know, Pete can fix about anything and has been a real asset. And Leonard, he keeps surprising me with what he knows and is willing to do. I’m delighted they decided to stay with us instead of coming back here,” he replied. “I need get going too, and thanks again for the gas for our trucks and generator, it sure has helped.”

  �
�Even though your compound is miles up the road, you’re still considered part of our community, and with the monthly shipments now from Sawyer, we have plenty to share, Art,” Allexa reassured him. “Especially since there are so few vehicles here. We get around mostly on bicycles now, weather permitting, and on the ATVs if necessary. The residents that came on the bus don’t have their own transportation, other than their two feet.”

  ***

  Journal Entry February 25

  It’s been four months now since the colonel left on a two week expedition to the Keweenaw and no one seems willing to talk about it. Personally, I can’t help but be worried.

  ***

  “Do you really think it’s wise to start the garden this early?” Tom White asked, watching Allexa dig in the dirt of the raised bed.

  “It won’t hurt to get the soil ready,” Allexa responded. “Besides, the warm temperatures have held for over a month.” She wiped her dirty hands on a tattered towel hanging by the entrance gate to the fenced in garden area. “We talked about this weeks ago with Harold.”

  “I have to admit most everyone, including Mr. Wolfe, agrees with my mom that the seasons have shifted,” Jason said, walking up behind Tom. “With winter arriving in August and lasting the usual length of time, what else can it be?”

  “Winter in August and spring in December will take some getting used to,” Tom said.

  “I know, Tom, and I feel the same.” Allex shook her head. “Although it might be a major adjustment for us, the sooner we make it the sooner we get used to it. We could always change the names of the months to fit the weather, which would make this May! Right on schedule.” She laughed at the absurdity and went back to turning the soil.