I watched from my position in the truck as my lovely wife made her way from the garden, across the dusty yard, and towards the back door of the general store. Her hair was as blonde as it had ever been due to the regular blasting it received from the Georgia sun. Her creamy skin had baked to a toasty almond color now. Over the past few months, her gymnast’s frame had become more muscular and lean, yet it still exhibited those feminine qualities that I found so appealing. Shapely legs, a sweet, soft outward curve of her abdomen, and that cute little supple butt that I never failed to find the urge to squeeze when the opportunity presented itself, were thankfully all still there. I was proud to call her my wife even if there remained very few people to whom I could do so.
I watched in admiration as she disappeared inside the store to review her supply levels.
Shaking myself from my hormone-induced daze, I glanced over at the garden to where Claire had been working before I made my request. I noticed that while all the other women were busy working away, Joanna stood, silently watching me. As soon as we made eye-contact, she turned back to her work watering rows of corn. No one else seemed to take any notice, and I quickly and quietly returned to my own work.
It wasn’t yet ten o’clock, but it felt like it was already 90 degrees out. I wasn’t sure if it actually was or if it was just a combination of the humidity and the unobstructed sun beating down upon us that made it seem so hot.
About ten minutes later, Claire was at the back door, waving me in for a break from my labors to give me an update on her supply situation.
I climbed down from my perch upon the pickup’s bed and walked over. “How are we doing?” I asked her, always apprehensive of her answer. Even though I’d been married to Claire for nearly a decade, I still was no expert when it came to diabetes and how best to regulate the condition.
Before the flu, other than urging a well-stocked kit of emergency supplies, I’d always left the tending to and tracking of the disease’s effects upon my wife’s lovely body largely up to her. It wasn’t that I didn’t care. If I hadn’t cared, I wouldn’t have pushed her to build the ample reserve of supplies that had kept her alive since the flu. But since she had dealt with the disease since she was a child, she was by far the expert in the family; and frankly, it’d just been easier to let her handle it. Plus, up until recently, there’d been little cause for me to become so heavily involved. In the past, Claire had regularly-scheduled doctor visits to ensure everything was being handled properly, help monitor her blood sugar levels, and adjust her insulin as necessary. She had drug companies to send regular amounts of insulin and other supplies and to provide upgrades as new monitoring devices or insulin pumps became available. And at the time, in a worst-case scenario in which a device broke or something else went wrong, there was always a pharmacy, hospital or emergency care facility just a few minutes away should it be needed.
Then the flu hit, and with it, all of those safeguards were eliminated.
I think it actually took less time for me to realize the immense ramifications of such an event for Claire’s well-being than it did for her. Due to my being so prepared and aware of the possibilities and eventualities of the effects of something like a pandemic, I’d spent time pondering how we would handle things like Claire’s condition. She on the other hand, had always been one to hold faith in the status quo and believe that everything would turn out okay given time. The idea that one day there might not be drug companies to produce more insulin or pharmacies from which to pick up a quick prescription was one that never entered her mind until I came into the picture; and even then, it was more something she preferred to leave to me to worry about, as in her mind, it was an impossibility. And how could I blame her? We’d always lived in a world where things had just been the way they were. Such amenities and services had always been there for her and would always continue to be there…until they weren’t.
I think that the gravity of the situation – and the realization of the possibility of there never being another vile of insulin produced in our lifetime – hadn’t truly struck her until we reached Olsten. However, living in a town for several months now without the arrival of one visitor, without the sound of one other vehicle other than ours, without one airplane passing overhead, and without televisions, radios, the internet, or cell phones, had finally and cruelly driven the point home. She hadn’t made a big fuss over it or anything like that. Claire wasn’t that way. Concerned or carefree, happy or sad, excited or frightened, Claire always seemed to manage to mask her emotions incredibly well. But lately, I’d noticed something in her; something that hadn’t been there before. It was almost a melancholy sadness about her. Anyone else would have said she was acting the same as usually, but as a husband, I could tell something just wasn’t quite right with her. It made sense though. Coming to the realization that in a few months’ time, the items necessary to keep her alive and with us in this world might forever be gone, was likely something no one would be able to handle without it changing something in their demeanor.
The hard part for me, was figuring out how to handle her, handling this. I didn’t want to make things worse by seeming overly concerned, as that might make her even more worried about the future. Yet, at the same time, I didn’t want to seem blaze about it, acting as though I didn’t care that her supplies might run out soon.
Claire sat down on the back porch steps and I sat down beside her. I took her hand in mine and held it, resting them together on her leg. She proceeded to give me a run down of how many boxes of this she had, and how many vials of that she had.
When she’d finished going through the list, I asked, “So how many months?”
She looked at the blazing blue sky above us, considering.
“If we really stretch it?” she asked.
“If we really, really stretch it,” I emphasized.
She took a deep breath, still thinking. “I’d say, two or three…maybe four or a little bit longer.”
I nodded, “Okay. And you’re feeling good?”
“Yeah,” she nodded. “I get a little more lightheaded and nauseous occasionally since I’m taking more time between shots. And I’m eating more snacks. But other than that, things seem to be okay. It’s weird being on shots again instead of on the pump, but I’m pretty much back in the groove again.”
“Good,” I nodded, squeezing her hand. “The nearest big cities to us are Macon and Valdosta. In a month or so, I’d like to try to make a trip to one of them to see what the situation with medical supplies is.” I looked up at the sky, “I just wish it’d fucking rain here first so that we could stop hauling water for these crops all the goddamn time. We’re going to burn up all our fuel doing that.”
She squeezed my hand back and smiled, looking into my eyes, “I know you’ll take care of me…of us,” she said. You’ve already done it for almost a year now, and you’re getting better at it every day. You’ll figure things out. I know you will.”
I looked away from Claire, her confidence worrying me but at the same time providing a deep sense of pride and inspiration.
I looked over at the garden and saw Joanna watching me again. Our eyes met, and then I looked back to Claire. She was looking over at Joanna too, watching her watch me. Then she looked back at me, that melancholy look back on her face. I squeezed her hand again, “We’ll figure it all out,” I nodded, trying to reassure her.
Claire just nodded, gave me a half-hearted smile, and stood. “Okay,” she said. “I’d better get back to work.”
“Don’t overdo it, okay?”
“Okay,” she agreed softly as she walked back to the garden.
I continued to sit on the porch another minute, watching her and thinking, and trying to figure out what to do.
* * *
By late afternoon of that sizzling June day, we finally finished making our modifications to the pickup truck. With two full-sized bathtubs – their drains plugged – affixed to the bed of the truck for added stability, we were ready to haul several hundred g
allons of water all in one trip. Best of all, we’d fitted the tubs with plywood covers in an effort not only to help keep the water in the tubs during transport, but to keep bugs, debris, and animals out of our water source. We wanted to keep the water in the back of the truck when at home, using the tubs as storage tanks. We had a plan to attach rubber hoses to the drain areas that could be opened to supply us with water whenever we wanted. So rather than hauling 50 containers or more around in the back of the truck, and then having to pour water from them whenever we needed it, which often resulted in spillage and waste, we now had a central reservoir that could easily provide us with a nearly week-long supply in a much simpler and less wasteful manner.
The problem we faced now that we had the means and capacity to transport our water was whether we’d have enough to keep it filled. Our pond was falling to a level that concerned me, and without rain, I could see that between the evaporation from the fierce sun, consumption by any animals that might frequent the area as their own water source, and our hefty draw upon the dwindling supply, the pond might only last another month, and that was if we were lucky.
I decided to take the truck over after dinner and test out our water hauler. I had found that evenings, when the sun had started to set and things had cooled a bit, were the best time of day in which to conduct this sort of work.
After dinner, as the rest of the group retired to the front porch and the kids began a game of tag out front, I announced, “I’m going to take the truck over to the pond and get it filled.”
“Want any help?” Will asked.
“Yeah, we’d be happy to lend a hand” Ray offered.
“No, that’s alright,” I said. “I’m good.”
I was actually looking forward to having some time alone. I found it nice to take a few minutes beside the pond and just relax in solitude occasionally. I loved my family, but sometimes it was nice to be alone with my thoughts away from noisy kids and friendly but talkative adults.
Everyone was settling into their respective chairs, and a few beers were being popped.
“I’ll keep your beer cold for you,” said dad.
“Thanks,” I nodded. “Well, I’m gonna get going,” I bent to kiss Claire goodbye, something we always did now, even for little tasks where we would only briefly be apart. After all we’d been through since the flu had struck, we’d realized just how precious, as well as how fragile life could be, and that it could quickly and easily be taken from us at any moment.
“Mind if I tag along?” asked Joanna.
The request caught me off guard. It also made me feel very uncomfortable. As I stood from kissing Claire, I could feel my wife’s eyes burning into me, waiting for me to answer. I didn’t want to make a big thing out of the request, since really it wasn’t a big deal, or at least it shouldn’t be.
There was a sort of uncomfortable silence among the group as they waited to hear what I’d say.
“Sure,” I said in as upbeat a way as I could manage and as though it were Ray or Will or dad or anyone else in the group making the request.
I honestly couldn’t think of why Joanna would want to go along. Well, actually, I could think of one reason. But if that was the case, I found it odd that she would make the request in such a public forum.
“Alright, let’s get going,” I said as casually as I could.
I wasn’t about to stand around and wait for people to start their gossiping right there in front of us. They could do that when they took their evening constitutionals around town later that evening. I felt bad for Claire though, as I knew that she would certainly realize what the hot topic of conversation was when small groups started braking off for their walks without benefit of her company.
But what was I supposed to do? Say, “No Joanna, you can’t come.”
That would make things seem even stranger.
So I just acted as though everything was normal and that I was taking my best buddy along for the ride.
Joanna and I made almost the entire trip in silence. As we neared the pond, my curiosity got the better of me. “So to what do I owe the honor of your accompaniment on this extremely exciting and intensely interesting endeavor?”
She waited for a few seconds and then said, “We’re leaving.”
I frowned, not understanding. “No,” I said shaking my head as we approached the pond. “We just got everything set up here. We can’t leave now.”
“I didn’t mean the group,” Joanna said. “I meant me and Shane.”
I still didn’t understand. There were many things about Joanna that I didn’t understand, but this was one that truly befuddled me.
“But why?” I asked. “Did we…did I do something wrong?”
“You’ve done nothing wrong,” Joanna said, looking at me and putting a hand on my knee as I drove. “That’s part of the problem. You’ll never do anything wrong.”
I laughed aloud, not because it was funny, but more because I found it rather ironic. “I feel like I’ve done everything wrong ever since we left southern Illinois.”
She shook her head. “No, I didn’t mean like that. I meant that you would never knowingly do something wrong that would hurt your family. It’s a very admirable quality, and one that makes me care about you even more, but at the same time, it’s one that means I’ll never have the chance to be with you. I was watching you with Claire today at the garden, and I could see how much you love her. It hurts. It hurts me every time I see it, and I just can’t take it any more.”
She paused, and we drove on in silence for a minute before she said, “I don’t think you have any idea what it’s like.”
“What what’s like?” I asked, playing dumb.
“Waking up every morning and seeing the man you care about enjoying his life with someone else.”
“But Joanna, there’s nothing I can do about that. It doesn’t mean that I don’t care about you and Shane…that the whole group doesn’t care about you and Shane.”
“I know that,” she said. “But it’s not the same. It’s not the way I want you to care about us. I want you to care about me and Shane the way you do about Claire and Jason, and I’m realistic enough to know that’s not going to happen.”
“You’re a part of our family though,” I said.
“I know, and I thank you for that and for all you’ve done, but it’s your family, not mine. You have your wife, your dad, your brother, your son. I have Shane.”
“No,” I said forcefully. “You have all of us too. You’re just as much a part of this family as anyone.”
She looked at me, “You don’t really believe that do you, John?”
“You are,” I said, not quite as convincingly as I’d hoped.
“We’re not,” she said softly. “And that’s not your fault. You’ve tried to incorporate us in every way. And you’ve done a wonderful job at it, and of helping us. I don’t think we’d have made it without you.”
“You’d have made it,” I said, knowing that she would have.
“But it’s time for us to move on. It’s almost lonelier being around the group and seeing everyone with someone of their own. Think about it. Ray has Pam, and soon they’ll have a newborn baby. Will has Sharron. You have Claire. Even your dad and Emily have gotten together. Sure, I have Shane, and I love him more than life itself, but it’s not the same. You know that. I need to find my own life and a life for Shane, and I think we’re ready to do that now. I’ve had enough time to learn how to adapt to this new world and survive in it.”
“It’s dangerous out there, Joanna,” I looked at her.
“It’s dangerous everywhere,” she said. “I can’t keep watching you build your life without me. It’s just too hard. I need to find my own place and hopefully a place to grow a family of my own with Shane. You’ve been great to Shane and have been integral in helping to raise him to the mature boy that he is…but he needs more. I need more.”
“He’s a wonderful little man,” I agreed, taking a deep breath. “I’ll
miss him. I’ll miss you,” I paused thinking. “You’re sure about this?” I asked, as we rolled to a stop near the pond.
“Yes,” she nodded solemnly. She took her hand off my knee, leaned over, and kissed me on the cheek. “You’ve been nothing but wonderful,” she said, a single tear sliding down her face as she said it. “And believe me; I’ll always be indebted to you for what you’ve done for us.”
I shook my head sadly and looked out the pickup’s dusty windshield at the pond in front of us, bewildered by this unexpected turn of events, but not necessarily as shocked as I thought I might be. “I can’t talk you out of…” I stopped suddenly. “Somebody’s been here,” I nodded ahead of us at two deep ruts in the mud beside the pond’s edge.
The stake acting as my water gauge was gone.
I killed the truck’s engine and opened my door. “Somebody besides us.”
Chapter 14
With the oppressive summer heat now starting to settle over Atlanta as June eased into July, Ava realized it was time to start finalizing the remainder of her plan. The weeks following their rapid-succession raids had proved her strategy correct, providing them with a steady flow of the resources necessary to continue to feed the little war machine that she and Jake were building.
With things relatively calm for the moment, Ava decided to make another trip to see Blondie, Brownie, and Bushy in their dilapidated abode. This time she drove.
The three men were glad to see her and appreciative of the drugs and alcohol with which she’d been steadily supplying them. Brownie and Blondie hadn’t taken part in the first few raids, but after the incident with the Stryker being damaged, Jake had called upon them for the fifth and final raid. They had acted largely in supporting roles, serving as more of a rear guard and available reserve if necessary. Jake hadn’t been impressed by the look of the two, and seeing as how he knew little about them and they hadn’t yet been battle tested alongside his own men, he’d been wary of using them in any sort of integral role in what he thought might be a pivotal battle.
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