"I am not!" Olstein cried indignantly. "How am I making them outlaws?"
"You said you were repealing the Second Amendment! Those people who have the supplies you intend to take are not going to comply with any of it. They're not giving up their food, and they most certainly won't give up their guns. You'll create war among the people!" Everley threw up his hands in frustration. "Everything you've said you're going to do is unconstitutional and illegal. You can't do it, you just can't. And I guarantee you the men and women under me won't follow those orders which, by the way, I won't issue."
"Excuse me? Did I just hear you say you would commit insubordination by not following a direct order from your Commander-in-Chief? You just admitted to a court martial offense, General."
Everley crossed his arms over his chest. "Not if those orders are against the Constitution."
"They won't be soon." Olstein picked up his papers and headed to the door. "I have some executive orders to write up. I'll see you all later today. Please, have some breakfast. There's plenty." He walked out the door and left them all in shock.
"He's serious," Roman said quietly. "He's going to try to shred the Constitution."
Everley stood up and headed for the door. "Not if I can help it. I'm going to go up where I can get a signal on the phone. I'll try to get an update from Sorley."
Everley left and got above ground. As soon as he did, his phone rang.
"Everley." It was Damon. He listened then replied, "We? Who else is with you?"
Damon told him who all they had in the Humvee. "Sounds like a tight fit. Are you going to try to get back here tonight?"
"No, sir, we're going back to the armory for the night. We'll head out bright and early in the morning."
"Sounds smart. Tanner's safety is your number one priority. We'll expect you some time tomorrow."
"Yes, sir, we'll be there," Damon replied.
"Look forward to seeing all of you. Call me if you have any problems." Everley clicked off his phone. With a smile, he stuck it back in his coat pocket and said aloud, "Check, Mr. President."
Chapter 14
While Elliott had been carrying a Ruger LCR .38 Special in his pocket, Ethan opted for his dad's Glock G42. Elliott had offered him a 9mm, but Ethan confessed that his strength was waning, and he wasn't sure he could handle the added weight or recoil.
"I'm sure I can handle the .380, Dad. I just don't want to take any chances I'd miss and hit something I didn't intend to — or someone."
"Well, we can go out back and get in some practice if you want. The boys and I did some shooting yesterday. They're naturals, just like you." Elliott had a modicum of pride in his voice as he spoke. "I'm sure they'd love to shoot again."
Cameron was coming through the door with the two water jugs. "Did somebody say shooting? We're going to shoot? I love shooting! Can we go now? I'll get my gun." He hurried into the kitchen and set the jugs down by the table.
Elliott followed him in. "The first thing you're going to do is rotate those water jugs. Put these two fresh-filled ones in the back and move the older ones up front. We need to make sure we do that so none of the water sits for too long."
"Does water go bad, Pap?" Aaron asked. "I don't guess I ever even thought about that being possible."
Elliott shrugged. "There's lots of arguments about that. Some folks say no, as long as it's closed up so nothing can get in to contaminate it. Others say it can if it's in something like a milk jug, like what Taylor had. They say it needs to be in thick, colored, plastic containers where no light can get in. Some say the plastic can break down; some say don't worry about it — there's as many opinions on it as there are people who talk about it. We won't have to worry about that, not with as many folks as we're going to have here. I just want to make sure none of it gets pushed to the back and forgotten, since I don't know who to believe. Personally, I think it's all a bunch of bull, but, hey, what do I know? I'm just an old mountain man."
"You probably have forgotten more of the basics than most of those people will ever know, Dad," Ethan said. "If I had to choose anyone to spend the apocalypse with, it'd be you."
Elliott chuckled. "Well, I reckon if we can keep food in our bellies, we can get through this for now. There will be other things we're going to have to figure out how to do without at some point, but we'll be good for a while."
Cameron looked curious. "What other things, Pap? We have everything we need … well, everything but electricity."
Elliott started counting things off on his fingers. "Fuel for the lamps. Toilet paper. Soap. Salt and pepper. Flour, corn meal, sugar, coffee. More clothes because these are going to wear out eventually. Pretty much anything that's not meat or a vegetable, and even those won't be the same as what you're used to now. We're living large right now compared to what it'll be like in six months."
"We're going to run out of toilet paper? But what will we use to … um … you know, wipe with?" Cameron asked in shock.
Elliott laughed. "Well, I've got a bunch of newspapers we can use when the TP runs out. I think I've got some mullein growing out by the wood shed. We'll see this spring. That would be a great choice. Soft and fuzzy."
Cameron's eyes were as big as saucers. "Wait. Are you saying we're going to wipe our butts with newspaper and leaves? Is that what this is going to come to? I can see it now. I'll pick the wrong leaves and use something poisonous and my butt will rot off."
Even though Cameron was absolutely serious, Elliott, Ethan, and Aaron were rolling with laughter. Ethan looked at his youngest son, chuckling, and said, "Your Pap will make sure you don't damage your butt. Besides, I know him. I guarantee you he's got at least a hundred rolls stashed around the house. Right, Dad?"
Elliott wiped a tear from his eye. "Yes, that's not something we're going to have to worry about for a while. We'll run out of most of the other things I mentioned before that. Which reminds me: we need to start policing our brass when we shoot. I can reload quite a bit with the supplies I have for that. That's another thing we'll run out of at some point. Ammo. Not sure what happens then. We'll try to keep practice to a minimum and actually go hunting for practice. Better to shoot at a chance for food than just hitting a target."
Aaron looked thoughtful. "I know electricity has only been around for like a hundred and fifty years. How did people get all those things before? Could that way of doing things be revived?"
"If we grow wheat or corn, we can make flour and meal. I have a grinder. It's a lot of work. Most people have no idea what it takes to actually make food," Elliott replied. "My granny used to make something similar to coffee with dandelion roots. Maybe I can figure out how she did it. You can make soap with hog fat and wood ashes. So, yeah, a lot of it could be done, if there's anybody still alive that knows how to do it. I guess us old folks are gonna be popular."
"As long as you show me which leaves are butt safe, you'll be at the top of my most favorite people list, Pap." Cameron reached behind him. "My butt itches just thinking about it. Let's go shoot. That'll take my mind off it."
After about an hour of practice, in which Ethan verified to himself and the others he could indeed handle the .380, they went back to the house to find Roger waiting for them on the back porch. Elliott smiled as he approached the house.
"Hey, Roger! Everything alright?" he asked, as he reached out to shake Roger's hand. Roger stood up from the rocking chair he had been sitting in and extended his hand as well.
"Yeah, I brought some jugs over to get some water, if that's okay."
"Of course, come inside where it's warm. Boys, gather those jugs up and bring them in." Elliott unlocked the door and opened it for Roger to go in, then followed him.
"Elliott, I don't think I've ever seen you have your door locked when you were home. Is there something going on?"
Elliott shook his head. "No, not yet anyway. I just figured it was a good practice to get into now."
Roger looked concerned. "I can't say that's a bad idea. I guess you
met Taylor."
"We did. He seemed fine, although the odds of them making it aren't very good."
"I thought the same. At least it's just the two of us, me and Cindy, at our house. They've got three little kids." Roger stopped but looked like he had more to say.
"What is it, Roger? What's going on? There's something you're not telling me."
Roger sighed and went on. "He stopped back by my house after he left here. He was going on and on about how well you were set up for this, with the well and the wood-burning stove; how he really needed to find something like that for his family if this lasted very long. Apparently, he picked up on you having canned foods; said something about biscuits on the table, homemade jelly …"
They all looked at the table where there was a plate of cold biscuits covered in plastic wrap, with a jar of blackberry jam that Elliott had made himself. Elliott closed his eyes and softly muttered, "Damn."
Roger continued. "He also mentioned how big your house was and only the four of you here. Oh, and that you were somehow able to do laundry because it was hanging everywhere. Seems he took in a lot in the time he was here. He might be trouble for you soon, Elliott. I'm sorry I told him about you and the well. I was trying to help them out."
Elliott shook his head. "Nothing to be sorry about, Roger. The boys and I have already talked about them and how we can help them with water, maybe some meat from hunting. Plus, it won't just be the four of us for much longer. The boys’ mother and her family will be coming here. That'll be four more. We'll definitely have a full house."
"Oh, wow, that's great. How are they going to get here?" Roger asked, surprised.
"Not sure. That's something they're gonna have to figure out. I'm not gonna worry for at least a week." He turned to Aaron and Cameron. "You fellas fill Roger's jugs then go through the house and put away anything that might tell a stranger what we have. Start in here and clear the table. You can put that stuff in the fridge. It's not like it's cold anymore."
"I'll take care of the water jugs, guys," Ethan said. They nodded and headed off to do their grandfather's bidding.
"And see if that laundry is dry, especially in the living room!" Elliott called after them.
Curious, Roger asked, "How did you do laundry?"
Elliott smiled and brought his "washing machine" in from the bathroom. He explained to Roger how it worked. Roger grinned. "Amazing. You're the kind of person who might actually make it through this mess."
Elliott shrugged and said, "All we can do is try. I wish I'd done more like some of my prepper friends did. They are definitely in better shape than any of us."
"Yeah, I've heard about those doomsday preppers. Looks like they're getting the last laugh now."
Sadly, Elliott replied, "I doubt anybody is laughing over this. But I'm sure they're saying, 'Told ya so.' I would."
Ethan walked over with the gallon jugs of water. "Here you go. By the way, I'm Ethan, Elliott's son."
"Shit, I'm sorry," Elliott added. "It didn't register y'all didn't meet yesterday. Ethan, this is Roger Harrison. Lives next door with his wife, Cindy."
There's a lot going on, Dad," Ethan said with a smile. "You're forgiven."
"Well, I guess I better get back. Just keep your eyes open, Elliott," Roger said as he got the jugs situated.
Elliott accompanied him to the door. "We all need to do that, Roger. Take care now. Say hi to Cindy for me."
"Will do. I'll probably see you tomorrow. It takes a lot of water to flush toilets. When your wife flushes automatically every time, it's hard to break that habit." Roger chuckled as he headed out to the driveway.
"Use your trash can to gather snow and bring it in the house. When it melts, you can use that to flush with," Elliott called after him. "Better for that than trying to drink it."
Roger turned back. "That's a great idea. Thanks, Elliott!"
Elliott gave him a wave and turned back to the house. Ethan was waiting inside the door. "Is that Taylor guy going to be problem?"
His father closed the door and locked it. Looking at his son, he replied, "Could be. I won't blame him for doing whatever he has to do trying to take care of his family, but I won't risk ours as a result. Doors and windows locked all the time. And we need to make sure no one sees any evidence of what we have in here outside the family and Roger and his wife."
Ethan nodded in agreement. "I take it you're close to them."
"Yes, and I'll move them in here to sleep on the floor before I see them die from exposure or starve. They're good friends. But that's it, outside of family. We can't save everybody."
Ethan looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, "What if Taylor shows up at the door with his family, begging you to let them stay here?"
"I'll tell them no, shut the door, and feel like an asshole. Probably for days."
"You won't be alone, Dad. I'm betting we all will."
Chapter 15
Joel looked at Teddy, curiosity apparent on his face. "How so, Teddy? Lord knows we could use some good news right about now."
Teddy's color was improving by the minute. He reached for the wheels of the chair with shaking hands. Will rushed over. Teddy smiled at him. "Thanks, young man. If you could just wheel me over to the patio door …"
Will did as he asked. When they got to the door, Teddy pointed out into the back yard. "You see that shed out there? I think you'll find a vehicle that will still run inside it."
Joel joined them at the door. "What is it?"
Teddy leaned back and said, "It's a 1962 International Harvester Scout. It's rough; I bought it as a hobby car a few years ago, right before I was diagnosed. The doc put me on oxygen full time, and I lost interest in restoring it. It runs though. I start it once a month to make sure the battery doesn't lose its charge. I think that will get you where you need to go."
"How did I not know about this?" Joel asked, a hint of hurt in his voice. "We've been friends for twenty years! I would have helped you with it."
Teddy waved a hand as if to brush the question away. "You had your family, your own life. I figured it was something to keep me busy, so I didn't have time to sit around and feel sorry for myself. Living alone can be great but it can be … well, lonely, too. Anyway, go out and see if it will start. The key is hanging by the door to the garage."
Will looked at his dad who gave him a nod of assent. While they waited for him to come back, Joel squatted down so that he was eye level with his friend. "Teddy, there's always time for a good friend. My life has never been so full that I couldn't have helped you with something like this."
Teddy looked down at his hands. "I know. I just thought I could do something with it and when I got it restored I could sit back and say 'I did that. I took something that was almost dead and brought it back to life.' I guess I'll have to settle for helping you and your family get somewhere safe instead."
"And you, too, Teddy," Joel said with a pleading tone. "If it runs, we can definitely take you with us. We'll find you more oxygen. Doctors’ offices, hospitals, there has to be plenty out there. We just need to —"
Teddy was shaking his head vehemently. "No! Don't you see? This is it for me! People like me, with serious medical conditions, aren't going to live through this. And I don't know about the rest of them, but I don't want to. I don't want to be a burden, and that's exactly what I'd be. Even if you found enough O2 tanks to keep me breathing for months, I still can't contribute anything to a survival group. And that's what you are becoming. Everybody is going to have to work together to make it. Everybody is going to have to fight together to survive. I don't want to be around to see what this place turns into in a few weeks or months. I'm fine with going now."
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a car engine starting. When Will revved the engine, Teddy grinned and said, "There you go. You've got a ride now."
Joel smiled, then took on a look of concern. "I didn't realize how loud a running car was until there weren't any. I'll be right back." He hurried out
the door.
Will saw his dad coming toward him and waved then gave him a thumbs up. Joel was frantically waving his hand across his throat, signaling Will to turn the car off. Will did, then got out of the Scout.
"It runs, Dad! Isn't that great?" Will said excitedly. "We can get to Elliott's now!"
"Yes, it's great, and it's really loud. I'm afraid we're going to attract a lot of attention with this." Joel was looking the Scout over as he spoke. He had Will pop the hood, so he could take a look at the engine. A quick perusal told him it was sound. He shut the hood and looked at Will. "What about the interior?"
Will replied, "Teddy didn't lie; it's rough. But do we care? As long as it gets us there, I sure don't."
"You're right. Beggars can't be choosers. I just wish I could talk him into coming with us," Joel said looking back toward the house. "It doesn't feel right to take so much from him and not repay it somehow."
"Dad, what you did for him — cleaning him up, getting some food in him — that's probably about all you can do now. He's right. With his condition, he would have to face some serious challenges to make it and could slow down or hinder anyone he was with. If I was in his place, I'd probably feel the same way. Not everybody's going to make it through this."
Joel hung his head. "I know that. It just feels wrong."
Will placed an arm across his father's shoulders. "Agreed. Unfortunately, this is probably the first in a long line of craptastic things we're going to have to deal with. Now let's go see about those guns."
~~~~~
A block away, Frank Richards was walking down the street with his buddies, Jack Nealy and Craig Scott. They were scoping out houses that might have supplies. Their plan was to find some potential places and come back after dark to help themselves to the stuff. They even knocked on a few doors to find out who was there to see what they'd be up against later. They had found a few occupied by single seniors, both male and female, which they were sure they could subdue. They had even come across some that were empty. Those would be the first they'd hit. Easy pickings.
Perilous Miles (Book 3): Another 20 Miles Page 12