The Provider

by John Hunt

  “You’re a natural, Jim,” he’d said to me. “Just pop over the fence and pick up the rifle here from the porch any time you like, go practice.”

  Sometimes, when there weren’t too many chores to do, Mom let me go hunting with him. We’d drive for an hour or two and go after small game – squirrels, hares, ptarmigan, that kind of thing. A few times, Mom let me stay with him overnight, out in the bush. I think she was nervous about it, but I always came back happier, and she liked me that way. We’d bivouac, and he’d teach me stuff about lighting fires, how to do it with a lens, or steel, or bow and drill: about following tracks, and being prepared. Boy Scout stuff. I loved it, being out there. He was my best friend. My only one, really, to be honest, if I didn’t count those on the war-gaming forums, who I hadn’t actually met.

  “Hey, kiddo, what’s up?”

  “Don’t rightly know, Bob. I’m nervous. No one seems to know anything. What do you think’s going to happen?”

  “Don’t know myself, kid. That’s why I’m doing this.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m fixing this old dump truck. Putting in a new crankshaft, new tires, welding some panels to the back.”

  “Why? Looks like a clunker from one of those Second World War films, The Dirty Dozen or something.”

  “In case I need to use it.”

  “What’s wrong with your pickup?”

  “Nothing at all, Jim, but the starter motor needs electricity. If we’ve got no electricity, it’s not going to last long. With this, I can produce the electrical current from the mechanical power of the engine.”

  “But why would you need it?”

  Getting up, he wiped his hands on a dirty grey rag. For a long moment, he looked at me without speaking, then he said, “Perhaps I’ll come over and see your folks tomorrow. I might be around in the morning.”

  SIX

  That night we were all outside, on Jerry and Marcia’s lawn, with a group of other neighbors, looking up at the night sky, sunglasses ready, just in case. All along the road and across the other side of the hill, through the trees, we could see lights on, everyone still up, the beams of torches flickering as people gathered. The news all evening had been about the temporary blackout. A minute before eleven p.m. people started chanting “sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight…” and ended with a cheery shout on “zero!” Nothing happened. Then, a few seconds late, all the lights went out, and applause resounded around the valley. Around midnight, there were murmurings of approval as the sky started to flame, like the Northern Lights, which we’d seen many times before, but in many more colors. Then it went up a notch, and another one, to gasps of astonishment. Rich purples at the top, down through shimmering greens, yellows and blues, more colors than you can think of. And then it went up another notch, and again. For the first time in my life, I felt my jaw physically drop. I’d seen weird stuff on the Internet, but nothing like this for real. The sky was so bright it was like midday. Streams of fire were flickering along the electrical wires. The ground flared red.

  Bess was taking pictures on her mobile. “Awesome!” she shouted. “This is so weird!”

  The birds were singing.

  “They think it’s daytime,” Dad said. “Well, I guess one of those fireballs did wrap itself around the earth.”

  “What a thing, hey?” Jerry called out. “Feel privileged to have seen it.”

  We stood there, in the middle of the most amazing fireworks display since the world was born till it died down after an hour or so.

  “I guess we’ll stay out here till the electricity comes back on,” said Jerry, shining the torch around. How about you guys?”

  “I’m ready to get some z’s now,” said Dad, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  I went inside with Dad, and slept late. Around eleven a.m. I finally got up. The room was already hot, the AC wasn’t working. Bess was still asleep. Mom and Dad looked as if they’d been up for hours. They were talking in low voices, as if they hadn’t wanted to disturb us.

  “We should keep the fridge door closed, Mary, to keep the cold in.”

  “What’s the point, Donald? We need the milk for cereal and it’s going to go off in a couple of days anyway.”

  “But if we keep the fridge door closed we could use it tomorrow.”

  “But why? We need it now.”

  They heard me on the steps and turned.

  “Jim, morning. Wake Bess up, and we’ll have some cereal for breakfast.”

  “I could skip cereal,” I offered.

  “You’re going to have breakfast, young man,” Mom replied.

  “OK, Mary, let’s grab it and shut the door quick.”

  Bess came jumping down the stairs, her hair flying around. “Dad, my phone isn’t working, can you fix it?”

  Dad looked exasperated. “Bess, where’ve you been lately? The power grid went down last night, and it hasn’t come back yet. I don’t even know if phones will work when it switches on again. We need to keep the food as fresh as we can, so, no trips to the fridge. And there’s a curfew coming this evening, so we shouldn’t go too far from home.”

  “But, Dad, I was going to Facetime with Janice this morning,” Bess complained.

  “Sorry, honey, you’ll just have to wait till the power comes back.”

  Bess pouted. “That’s such a drag. I’ll just have to go chill with her then. Can you give me a lift?”

  “The cars won’t start, I’ve tried them.”

  “Oh, fine, I’ll walk it then.”

  Dad hesitated. “Look, Bess, we don’t know if it’s going to be safe out there. It’s a long way. What do you think, Mary?”

  “I don’t want the kids out of sight of one of us in this kind of situation.”

  The pout became a frown. “Are you locking me down? That’s not fair.”

  “I’m sure Janice’s parents will be thinking the same, Bess.”

  “Oh Mom…don’t be ridiculous. It’s a power cut, not the end of the world!”

  Then there was a knock at the back door. Mom went to answer it.

  “Bob, good to see you, come on in. Let me get you a coffee, we’ve got a gas burner on. Two sugars, wasn’t it?”

  “Thank you kindly, Mam. I’m sorry to trouble you,” he said, “but I think we should talk.”

  He sat on a stool at the kitchen table, with the four of us, awkwardly cradling his cup.

  “I’ll get to the point. There’s trouble coming.”

  “Well, we know that, Bob, but what do you mean exactly?” Dad asked.

  “There’s no power. We don’t know for how long. Things are going to get difficult, fast. You’ve probably not got food for more than a few days. I can help you.”

  “C’mon, Bob.” Dad raised his eyebrows. “You’re exaggerating, surely? The government will sort it out. It’ll be back to normal in the next day or so.”

  Bob got up and prowled around. He seemed out of place in Mom’s smart kitchen, like something dragged in from the woods.

  “You may be right, Mr. Richards. But if you aren’t, we could work with each other.”

  “How?”

  “You’re a practical guy, Mr. Richards, an engineer. Mrs. Richards knows nursing. I know I haven’t been a great neighbor, but I like your kids. And Jim here has potential. If things get bad, it’s not a good time to be on your own. I have guns, and I know the bush. I think we could make a team. Teams’ll survive better than families.”

  “Are you for real, Bob?” Mom laughed sunnily. “You’ve been watching too many survival movies.” She grabbed a dishcloth and scrubbed at the countertop, cleaning up non-existent dirt. “And I don’t want you scaring the children. The answer is no. But you’re always welcome around here at any time.”

  “Yessum,” he said resignedly. “But bear it in mind. I’m gonna be moving out.”

  “What about the curfew?” Dad objected.

  “Just how long do you think that’ll last? You think the police and Guard will stick aroun
d when their cupboards are being raided and their wives beaten up? It’ll be rough then, safer out of the city.”

  “You’ve got a really downbeat view, Bob,” Mom said accusingly. “You’ve been living by yourself for too long. This is a friendly community. We’ll stick by each other.”

  “Maybe. But you know what they say about the difference between an Alaskan and a bucket of shit?”

  “No.”

  “The bucket.”

  “Are you dissing me?” This time Mom’s laugh had an edge to it. “You sure know how to appeal to a woman.”

  Bob was silent for a moment, then he said, “No, I’m calling you a fool…with all due respect. Geez, take a joke,” he added, hastily, as Mom bristled. “Anyway,” he said, edging towards the door. “Wanted to leave the thought with you. Maybe I’m completely wrong, and I hope I am. But it don’t hurt to be prepared. I’ve seen what happens when food and water runs out. It don’t matter where you live, who you are – everyone turns animal.” Opening the door, he said, “If you change your mind, I’ll still be here for a day or so, got some work to do.”

  I wondered what he was talking about. But it was none of my business, all down to Mom and Dad.

  Not being able to use my cell phone didn’t bother me, I rarely used it anyway. But not being able to play Total War: Rome – that was a blow. I’d just established the strongest army in the field and could lose my position with a time penalty. I went to my room to put some more stamps into my collection instead. I only had four hundred stamps with birds of the world on them, and there were over ten thousand to go. I’d have to speed up when I got a job. I was looking forward to that – imagining what you could do if you had real money!

  I heard Mom curse, which was really unusual.

  “Donald, can you get this door open for me? The washing machine’s stopped in mid-cycle. I forgot about that when I put it on.”

  “I think it’ll have to wait, Mary, short of taking a crowbar to it. I’m just fixing up kerosene lamps and candles.”

  It was weird without TV. What did people used to do before TV and the Internet? Sleep? Sit around talking?

  Still, it was only a day. I expected, we all expected, that it would be over soon. Though in a way, I hoped it wouldn’t be – it was different, edgy. But I had no idea that this was it – forever.

  SEVEN

  On Monday we had cereal again for breakfast. The dishes were stained.

  “We should save the water in the tank rather than using it to flush the toilet, or for washing up,” Dad said, wiping them down with kitchen roll. “There’s no more coming in. Probably the pumps in the water towers are down. We’ll only use it for drinking now.”

  “What are we going to do then?” Bess asked.

  “We’ll dig a hole outside,” Dad replied.

  “You mean go to the toilet in the yard? Where people can see you?” Bess looked horrified. “I can’t do that. It’s gross.”

  “Bess, there’s nothing wrong with it. I don’t remember you flushing the toilet when you were a baby.” Mom chuckled. “You should try being a nurse, really get to see bottoms then.”

  “Needs must,” replied Dad. “Come on, Jim, let’s go dig a hole.”

  I wished I was more like my dad. Figure out what needed doing, then do it.

  I wiped myself down with a towel after the digging. It was hot again. The windows were open for the breeze, the flies were annoying. Dad had been talking to neighbors. No one knew what was really going on; they said there was looting downtown.

  “The one time in your life you really want news, you can’t get any,” Dad commented.

  Troops from Fort Richardson now stood at the main intersections. The only traffic on the roads were the emergency services, police and Guards. Around us, along Fulton Street, it was eerily silent. Nobody going to work or school, no deliveries. It seemed like everyone was waiting for something to happen, to be told what to do.

  “I’m going to walk a few blocks down to Main Street to see what’s going on.” Dad looked at me. “Want to come, Jim?”

  “Go carefully,” Mom said as we left. “Don’t go near any trouble.”

  It was cooler outside, under the trees that lined the street.

  It felt strange, though, walking along the empty street with Dad, I couldn’t remember doing that before. I’m not sure I’d ever seen anyone walking along the street before.

  “Do you think it will be school again tomorrow, Dad?”

  “You might get a few days off, Jim. Are you missing it?”

  “No, I was wondering if I could go hunting with Bob.”

  “We’ll have to stick together as a family till things are back to normal. When we get back though, you could get a fire going in the yard and we’ll start cooking some food from the freezer. It’s defrosting. If we cook it, it’ll last longer.”

  “Why aren’t there any cars?”

  “Everyone’s got electronic ignition. You’d need a car that predates that, with a carburetor, back from the 1970s.”

  “What’s a carburetor?”

  Dad laughed. “It mixes fuel and air to the right ratio in the engine. Nowadays it’s done by fuel injection. But that needs electronics. And those’ve been short-circuited. I guess you’re not going to make an engineer, Jim.”

  “What do you think I could be?”

  “You like biology, don’t you? And being outside? Perhaps something to do with botany?”

  We’d just passed Mrs. Maclaren’s house, one of the smaller ones on the street, a chalet-style place with an all-round verandah, when we heard shouting and a smashing sound. Dad turned around and ran up the drive, with me following. The front door was open.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Dad shouted, as we ran into the kitchen. “Break it up!”

  Mrs. Maclaren was trying to hold onto a gallon container of water and this guy was trying to pull her fingers off it.

  “You keep out of this, it’s none of your fucking business,” he snarled.

  “He’s stealing my water,” shouted Mrs. Maclaren.

  I saw Dad tense, and clench his fists. “Leave her alone and get out of here.”

  “I’m just asking her to share, there’s only one of her, I’ve got a family, it’s fair.”

  “Go through that door,” Dad said, pointing. “Don’t come back, and we’ll forget about this.”

  Dad wasn’t a fighter, but he was broad shouldered and with all the work he’d done tinkering with engines, you could see the muscles in his forearms. I could see the guy’s hesitation.

  “You’re making a mistake getting involved, mister,” he said, releasing the container. “I’ll be back.” He walked through the kitchen, out the back door, slamming it behind him, and disappeared.

  Mrs. Maclaren slumped into a chair, shaking. It was a surprise, seeing her by herself, outside the school, so ordinary, so vulnerable. Maybe the adult world wasn’t that different from that of the kids.

  Dad put his arms around her. “Are you OK?”

  “Thank you so much,” she whispered, looking at me with recognition in her eyes. “You must be Jim’s father?” she said, looking in my direction. “I teach him at school.”

  “I am indeed. And you must be Mrs. Maclaren. He’s told me about your classes, he likes them. Now who was that guy? Do you know him?”

  “I’ve seen him around, he lives a few doors away. But we’ve never really been introduced. He was asking if I had some spare water, his family didn’t have enough. But I just didn’t like the way he was asking, and then he just barged in.”

  “Well, I guess there’s nothing we can do about it now, Mrs. Maclaren. I don’t think we’ll get far troubling the police at the moment with an incident like this, even if we could ring them. But you can’t stay here by yourself. It’s not safe. He said he’d be back. There could be others. Why don’t you come and stay with us for a day or two? Till this is over?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t impose on you like that!”

  “It’s
no trouble, really. We’ve got a spare room. Here, let me help you get your things. Jim, could you go back and wheel over my trolley from the garage. Explain what’s happening to your mom. She can make the bed up, and we’ll be over before lunch.”

  I set off at a run. A couple of hours later and we were back home, with Mrs. Maclaren, a suitcase of clothes, a crate of food, and a few gallon-containers of water. Dad introduced Mrs. Maclaren to Mom and Bess.

  “Mrs. Richards, this is so kind of you. I hate to be a burden, but I must admit I didn’t like the idea of staying on in the house alone. At least it won’t be for long.”

  “It’s a real pleasure to have you, Mrs. Maclaren.” Mom smiled. “We’ve got you a room ready, and you’re very welcome to stay till things have settled down again. This is my daughter, Bess.”

  “Very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Maclaren.” Bess turned on her full wattage, dimply smile.

  “I’ve seen you around school, Bess,” Mrs. Maclaren shook her hand. “I’m taking you for history next term. We’ll have to see about you improving your grades.” Bess’ smile faded.

  EIGHT

  The rest of the day passed without further incident, though we started hearing occasional gunshots in the distance. We swapped food with Jerry and Marcia in return for water – being just the two of them their tank was lasting longer.

  On Tuesday, I accompanied Dad and Jerry down again to St. Mary’s. Jerry carried a pistol.

  Dad looked surprised. “I didn’t know you had one, Jerry.”

  “Hope I don’t have to use it, I’ve only had a few practice shots, but I’m not leaving the house without it. You should get one, too.”