299 Days: The Visitors 2d-5

by Glen Tate

  The discussion of food kept coming back to two things. First, how much could they count on from the FCards? Second, how could they grow enough food to get through the winter?

  The FCard situation was a big unknown. They hadn’t started the FCard runs into town yet; there had been weeks of “administrative delays” getting the cards. Supposedly the FCards would be activated and ready for use starting tomorrow, but Grant quit believing anything he heard about the FCards. Even if the FCards were working, would the store in Frederickson always have food? Would Commissioner Winters cut them off?

  The one thing he knew was that the FCard food wouldn’t be enough on its own. At best, it would supplement the gardening, hunting, and fishing. At worst, it would raise people’s expectations that things would be OK and then they’d be furious when it wasn’t. Gideon’s semi, as huge as it was, wouldn’t provide for several hundred people for too long.

  No, they needed to count on gardening, hunting, and fishing to get them through. Winter would suck. Luckily, winters in western Washington State were rainy, but not particularly cold, although there wouldn’t be any gardens growing at that time. The fish and shellfish were still around in the winter. Game would be scarce. They’d have to make it on canning, drying, and freezing the food they got now and into the fall. What a huge task. Would they have enough canning supplies?

  Grant thought about the food he stored out at the cabin. Thank God. That would go a long way toward getting his family through the winter. But stored food wouldn’t be enough for everyone.

  Luckily, leading up to the Collapse, quite a few people out in Pierce Point started thinking about gardening again. Food prices were going way up so it just made sense to garden, as well as hunt and fish. He learned that some people started quietly buying food dehydrators secondhand. They bought meat smokers and canning supplies, especially when things were obviously going sideways a few months before the May Day Collapse.

  They also bought Cash n’ Carry and Costco kinds of foods like Grant had. They saved a lot of money buying bulk staples like rice, beans, pasta, and biscuit and pancake mix. Money was tight. One takeout pizza was about the same cost as ten pounds of beans, which could feed a family for a week. One week versus one meal. It was a very rational economic decision. Although having lots of stored food when the world was spinning out of control was very reassuring, these bulk food purchasers weren’t exactly “survivalists.” They were just smart shoppers. And it was saving their lives now.

  The majority of people in Pierce Point had not prepared like that, but a pretty significant minority had. That minority had a good chunk of their food needs all set for a few months. Not all of what they needed, but a very good dent. Some even had enough to give to others. Many would be able to make it through the year with the stored bulk food, plus the bartering for food, coupled with the FCards and the semi.

  Side dishes like beans, rice, or biscuits would become the whole meal. Portion sizes would go down. Things that didn’t store well, like foods requiring refrigeration, became rare. Everyone was expecting the power to go off at any second and stay off for…years. A block of cheese versus a sealed bag of mashed potato mix was an easy choice when people were thinking that way.

  Sweets were very rare. The government controllers of food production quickly ceased making things that had no nutritional value. Soda virtually vanished. Some sweets existed for the politically connected and rich. The government allowed Hershey bars to still be made, which the government would dole some out to an area to keep up morale. It reminded Grant of GIs handing out Hershey bars during WWII to hungry kids in Europe. Nothing tasted sweeter than a chocolate bar when you haven’t had any sugar in a few months. It was amazing how much support the government could win with just a chocolate bar, and they knew it.

  With many people eating more homegrown foods and not having sugared things like soda, most were eating like their grandparents and great grandparents had, which wasn’t such a horrible thing.

  Everyone was losing weight, and it was now starting to be noticeable on most people. Clothes started fitting more loosely. Before the Collapse, it was fair to say that the average American was overweight by at least a few pounds. Extremely obese people were not uncommon. They were now.

  Grant spent the rest of the afternoon meeting people, chatting, solving small problems, and coordinating lots of self-help. The classified ads on the Grange bulletin board were a big hit, too. People could find someone to fix their small machinery and others could find who wanted to buy some deer meat. There was even the “liquor store.” A heavy drinker had recently died and his widow was selling off his huge stash. There was also plenty of moonshine, which was surprisingly good.

  Grant saw Drew at the Grange. He had a crowd around him, as usual. He had several assistants and people wanting to talk to him. He was managing things well, as would be expected from a former senior partner at a large accounting firm. He knew how to direct people and get things done. Grant waved for Drew to come over.

  “Hey, Drew, sorry to interrupt you,” Grant said. “You know we started the census a couple weeks ago? We had you and the Team going out and collecting information, which got put on the back burner now that the Team is doing full time law enforcement. Can you get a census crew working on this?” Grant leaned toward Drew and whispered, “Our little list only works if we know who everyone is and where they are.”

  Drew nodded. He had 10,000 things to do right then, but he understood why the census was an important thing to get done. And it only needed to be done once and then updated. Drew thought for a minute.

  “I have just the person who can spearhead that effort. I presume the census takers are now community volunteers and get to eat at the Grange?” Drew asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Of course,” Grant said. Drew made a few notes and then called a helpful volunteer named Dutch Hillenburg. He explained that Dutch had a new job, “Director of the Census,” if he wanted it. He was happy to have something to do. And the meal card was a great thing, too.

  Grant kept thinking of things to bring the community together and show the residents that Pierce Point had a functioning government. Well, a very small-scale one. Not the old kind of government, but a new kind, the Patriot way, where people did things for each other by choice instead of coercion. They might be motivated to do these things for each other out of a sense of decency or common interest, even profit. But not out of coercion. A flood of ideas came to him. He started writing them down. He would propose them at the Grange meeting that evening.

  The rest of the afternoon flew by. Pretty soon, the Grange ladies were serving dinner, which smelled great. Barbeque salmon and home fries. Grant noticed that when he spent all day doing “office” things at the Grange, instead of going out in the field and walking and carrying his rifle and kit, he was a lot less hungry. He was still hungry, but not ravenous like when he was physically active all day and sometimes all night. That reminded him that he would need to address the issue of whether the guards and constables got more food than others. This wasn’t a problem now when there was enough food, but it would probably become an issue during the winter. Grant would deal with that when, or if, he ever had to.

  People started coming into the Grange meeting. Rich and the Team came back from training. Grant grabbed Rich and told him about the ideas he’d come up with that day. Rich loved them and had a few suggestions.

  Bobby told Grant about the training with Kyle and the dogs, which was going well. It was a new thing for the Team to learn. They spent a lot of time letting the dogs get to know and trust the Team. That night, after the meeting they were planning to finally give Kyle extensive firearms and movement training. He wouldn’t be a full Team member kicking in doors, but he had to hold his own on the perimeter when he was running the dogs.

  With the new faces coming to the meeting came new conversations. Grant was getting to know as many people as possible. He was letting them know about the Patriot way. The Undecideds ne
eded to not only understand with their heads why the Patriot way would work the best. They needed to feel with their hearts that a person like Grant was going to be the one to carry it out. They needed to know and trust Grant, Rich, and the others at the Grange. You couldn’t ask someone to bet their lives on some political philosophy, but people would bet their lives on a trusted person with a reasonable plan. They had to get to know the person, as well as the plan.

  “Hello, your Honor,” one elderly lady said to Grant.

  “Your Honor?” Grant asked.

  “Yes, sir. You’re the judge,” she said.

  Grant hadn’t really thought of it that way. He hadn’t had any trials recently and had been spending all his time on the administrative things. He didn’t feel like a judge; he didn’t wear a black robe. Judging wasn’t his career. Being the judge was just one of his many jobs in the overall task of survival out at Pierce Point. But, now being the judge had some social effect. People called him by a title. He didn’t want any social classes out there. Leadership, sure, but not classes.

  “Oh, ma’am, I appreciate it, but you can call me Grant,” he said. “What may I call you?” he asked.

  “Mrs. Otting,” she said.

  She looked Grant right in the eye, like a grandmother does when she’s correcting you. She continued. “No, I can’t call you by your first name. You’re Judge Matson. We have a judge,” she said. She repeated, “We have a judge” and straightened her back to show her pride in that statement.

  Grant now realized that she wasn’t calling him by a title for his benefit. She was doing it for her benefit. She needed the normalcy of having a judge. She needed there to be a judge because that’s what civilized societies have. This reinforced his ideas for later in the meeting that would help with the community and provide basic governance suggestions.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Grant said. “I’m Judge Matson if that’s what you prefer. Tell me, is it good to have a judge out here?” he asked, knowing the answer, but wanting to verify his theory.

  “Yes,” she said. She looked at him in the eye again in that grandmotherly way. “But if you don’t do a good job, we’ll vote you out.”

  “Good,” Grant said. “That’s how it should be.” He started to tell her about the Patriot way. She wasn’t interested in that.

  She stopped him and told him about Judge Petersen who used to live out there. He died in the 1980s. She said he was a wonderful man, a model of fairness and wisdom.

  “I expect the same from you,” she said. Then she softened up her grandmotherly firmness. “I’m so glad we have a judge again. It reminds me of when things were better. Thank you, Judge Matson.”

  So that was, indeed, it. Having a judge was a link to the past when things were decent. Having a judge wasn’t just about having a person preside over the community’s sanctions against people breaking their rules. It was a symbol, like all the other symbols Grant would present to the crowd in a few minutes.

  It was time to start the meeting. Mrs. Otting said to Grant, “Get to work, your Honor.”

  Grant smiled and then got to work.

  Chapter 159

  “Free To Go”

  (July 1)

  Rich called the meeting to order. The Grange hall was packed. Every seat was taken and people were standing on the edges of the room. A few were even in the doorway with a short line behind them. There hadn’t been many Grange meetings since the trial. People were busy getting things done before fall and many were burned out from the long debates about the trial. However, tonight was a big planning meeting for the upcoming months.

  Rich started off by reporting on the situation at the gate. Things were going well. They had plenty of guards and they were cross-training each other on firearms and first aid. They were working up squad-level verbal commands. They had good communications with the Grange and the Team wherever they might be at any given time.

  Paul Colson gave the report on the beach patrol. He was putting his years of experience on the inlet to use, serving as the Chief’s second in command. He had lost a lot of weight, was tan and looked happier than he’d been in years. He spoke confidently, like he’d found his purpose in life. Paul reported that the beach patrol was operating twenty-four hours a day and had plenty of men and women. They had chased off a few suspicious vessels each week. So far, no pirate landings. People speculated that Pierce Point had a reputation as being a bad place to try to loot.

  Lisa gave the medical report. It was the first time she’d made a presentation at the Grange. People were glued to her every word. She was wearing her best “cabin outfit,” meaning the clothes she had out there. She even had a white lab coat Cindy gave her which made her look like an ER doctor on TV.

  Lisa reported that there were three people in the last twenty-four hours who had apparently died from a lack of medication. Lisa didn’t describe their conditions out of respect for their privacy, but Grant later found out that two people had extremely high blood pressure and the third had a rare pituitary condition.

  Lisa reported that two more people seemed to have gone insane from a lack of mental health medications. They had been restrained by family members. Grant would need to do a hearing for them to have them committed to the mental ward. Maybe the family members could keep them restrained, which would be preferable.

  A volunteer was coordinating the funerals. Like with Mrs. Roth, the burials needed to occur quickly because there was no embalming fluid. Burials would occur without any fanfare. Funeral services would take place once a week, on Sundays after the church service. That way there would be just one service for all the people who died that week. That was a grim thought.

  There hadn’t been a massive die off. Yet. There was no plague decimating the population. During peacetime, there was about one death every few months out at Pierce Point. Now, there were about a dozen a month. Almost all of them were people who would have never lived this long without all the modern medicines.

  The next report was from Ralph Ramirez, who everyone started calling the “Ag Director” as in the Department of Agriculture. Ralph was in his early sixties with gray hair. He had a bit of a hippie look to him; more of a Birkenstock look than a full-on hippie look.

  Ralph was a recently retired extension employee from the U.S. Department of Agriculture who owned a small farm. He was an agronomist, a crop scientist. On his farm, he experimented with various crops and raising livestock. He was coordinating the other dozen or so small farms at Pierce Point. It was kind of what he did for the former government. Ralph was a farmer first and a retired government employee as a distant second.

  At first, Grant thought Ralph might be a Loyalist since he had worked in government his whole life. He was theoretically getting a retirement check from the government, although those checks had stopped coming weeks ago. However, Ralph was a scientist, which meant he couldn’t stand all the illogical shenanigans of politics. Besides, he and his wife had all they wanted there on the farm, so he didn’t care about politics. He was a solid Undecided, but Grant was glad to have him out there.

  Ralph gave an overview of the little farms and what they were growing and would be growing. Garden crops of all varieties. He had many of them switching from specialty crops to potatoes; lots and lots of potatoes. He was getting seed potatoes to anyone who wanted them for their own small gardens. A few of the small farms out there had cows and horses. There were a few milk cows, but without modern milking machines, hand milking was required and that was very labor intensive. It was hard to get volunteers to come all the way out to the farms and milk the cows and then go back to their own homes. Therefore, the farmers did the milking, but it was only on a few cows. This yielded relatively little milk. Most of the cows were meat cows.

  The horses would come in handy for transportation. There were still plenty of vehicles and a little bit of gasoline and diesel, so horses would be a secondary mode of transportation. Grant dreaded the thought of using the horses for meat in the winter if it came to th
at.

  A former computer guy, Steve Otto, was a beekeeper out at Pierce Point and produced amazing honey. One hobby farm had llamas. They were basically pets, but could, in dire circumstances, become food.

  About half the farms were community farms, meaning they donated their food to the Grange. For this, they were “contributors” in Drew’s books and got all the associated benefits, like meals at the Grange and free medical care. The most important thing the community farms got in return was Grange-supplied guards. This was a big deal. Everyone expected the farms to be hit by theft.

  The other half was “for-profit” farms. They sold—actually, bartered—their crops and hired all their workers and guards. Grant knew that when winter came, and things got scarce, there would be pressure on the for-profit farms to give away their food. There would be accusations of “greedy” farmers living well while others were hungry. Grant tried to inoculate against this as much as possible by supporting the for-profit farms. He would make little comments like, “Free enterprise is alive and well in Pierce Point. People have a right to their property, and that includes the right to keep the things that grow on their property.” Besides, the for-profit farms were getting people things like fresh beef that they couldn’t get anywhere else. Grant knew from history that the quickest way to cause a famine was to take farmers’ food by force. Even the Soviets eventually allowed farmers to sell food.

  But still, allowing and even encouraging for-profit farms would be a political challenge for Grant. When people at Pierce Point got hungry—for the first time in their lives—they would want to take from those who had food. The best way to prevent this was to encourage the for-profit farms to become community farms. Encourage, not force. The free guards would be the way to do that.