While the women clattered in the kitchen, clearing and cleaning the Thanksgiving debris, the men struck up the usual subjects. Chop's best deer was ritualistically criticized and the approaching deer season discussed.
This year however the fuel shortage occupied most minds. Farming demanded fuel, winter cold required more, and they all felt the pressures and dangers of failing supplies. Toby Shatto was the only one among them who had personal experience among the Middle Eastern oil producing nations. Inevitably, attention focused on his opinion.
"You been there, Tob. What'd you think they'll do?"
Toby did his best to look sincere and talk straight, at the same time considering if his concentration on computers had allowed as much oil information to seep in as the others might have gleaned from Time Magazine. It could be they'd all read the same articles.
"Well, it looks to me as though there'll be no way to fill the tankers. We'd all best figure on doing with a lot less."
He paused to grin. "I guess most of you've heard how I feel things are going anyway, so I'm not really the one to ask."
Chop spoke above the laughter. "For those who don't know, Toby figures the world's going to collapse and those who live through it'll be beatin' on each other with clubs an' livin' in caves."
Toby managed to continue grinning through the hoots of disbelief. "Well now, it's not quite like that, Chop, but I'm not pushing my ideas on anyone that doesn't want to listen and especially not today."
"Oh yeah, Tob? With every truck in three counties dumping their loads at your place, you figure your ideas aren't getting around?"
Again there was laughter and someone asked, "Come on, Toby. Tell us what you stored today."
Joining in the spirit of the exchange Toby answered, "Well, I didn't buy a thing today. Nobody'll deliver. But yesterday I got five hundred gallons of honey and . . ."
"Five hundred gallons? Man, that's ten barrels full. For God's sake!" Astonishment was universal.
Chop stuck In, "Yep, but that's nothin' for old Tob. He makes his Pa look like a waster. You all know about his coal mine? Well for those that don't, Shatto buried enough coal to keep this county runnin' a month and . . ."
"Oh come on, Chop. There isn't that much."
Bill Long was clearly interested. "How come, Toby? You figure coal's going to be short pretty soon?"
Another man added, "Must be costin' you a mint, Shatto. How do you know some nice neighbor like Bill won't come by and help himself while you're over with them Arabs?"
Long said, "Quit reading my mind, Ben. I was just now thinking of converting my furnace to coal. Man, all that free fuel just layin' there waitin'!"
"You really figure times are going to get that tough, Toby?"
Toby paused to give weight to his answer. "Look around. Anything you choose to examine is going downhill. Nobody can afford to build a house or even buy land. Our money isn't much good, and businesses are failing everywhere. Our government is strapped and even banks are hanging on the ropes. Most of the world either fears us or hates us and the rest resent us. The whole world's economy is in depression and every government is in debt to its ears. How does it look to you all?"
"Well, hell, Toby, everybody knows it can't go on forever but . . . "
Toby interrupted. "Alright! So our only disagreement is when it will happen." Again he paused and the others waited. "I'm getting ready because I think the time is short. This winter, is my guess." He held up a hand to halt a rush of protest.
"I could give you a list of reasons as long as my arm and you'd probably still laugh, so all I can do is tell you how I feel and suggest as strongly as I can that you don't get caught with empty pantries."
There was a storm of half serious disclaimers before Reverend Mantis' sharp voice claimed attention.
"It is wrong to hoard when others hunger, Mr. Shatto. If your predictions come to pass will you share your honey and your coal with those who are without?"
The question was meanly biased and Mantis' tone antagonistic. Toby answered as truthfully as he could, but deep down inside he was beginning a closer examination of the Reverend Mantis. For a man of the cloth, for a thoughtful human being, he came on awful strong and sort of from left field. Toby got his guard up.
"I may trade or sell, Reverend, but I doubt I'll give. If I am correct and things fall as badly as I foresee, my stuff wouldn't save many and I'd end up as bad off as the rest."
"We are our brother's keeper, Mr. Shatto."
"Well, the way I see it, my brothers have the same opportunities that I have and if they choose to ignore them they shouldn't expect to share my efforts. I think the old adage that 'God helps those who help themselves' should apply here."
Mantis bristled and wagged a finger in admonishment.
"We must help the needy, Shatto, and those who hoard must provide for those without. That is the Christian way." He sat back as though certain he had clinched his argument.
Half irritated, Toby stuck with it. "There are always needy, Reverend, but that is only half of the requirements I look for. The other half is—deserving. If people choose to ignore warnings, or live just for today without an eye on the future, then they don't deserve a lot of rescuing if things turn tough.
"Now my father preached that gospel for thirty years and got little more than the same chuckles I'm hearing now. Nope, Reverend. I'm not planning on sharing much.
"On the other hand, I hope you are preparing your congregation for hard times ahead. Seems to me that would be one of your duties."
Mantis' eyes flashed and shifted before his voice rose in righteous condemnation. "Never, Mr. Shatto, would I encourage hoarding among our good people . . ."
Toby Interrupted without attempting courtesy. "Hoarding is grabbing in time of shortage, Reverend Mantis. Storing before the demand is merely good management and foresight. Surely you understand the difference."
Aware of increasing ill will, Chop redirected the conversation a little. "To tell the truth, I listened to Toby's Pa so much I put away a few things myself. I reckon I'm set to handle some hard times."
"Not the kind I'm talking about, Chop."
"Well, now, I may not have everything, but we can grow what we need and last through about anything that comes along.
Toby thought he might strike a blow for preparedness and took his friend to task.
"How many horses do you have that'll pull a plow, Chop? Do any of your wagons have hand brakes? You've got to have brakes when you're farming with teams. Have you even got one set of harness? You'll need all that stuff if the oil stops flowing." He went on without allowing answers.
"If you get a crop how will you reach a market? Who will buy and what will they pay you with?
"Suppose the city people get hungry and come out to take what you've got? Going to give it away or maybe shoot someone over some corn?
"Or suppose the Russians really start dropping nuclear missiles around the country? Where is your shelter?"
"Oh, hell. If they start that kind of war we won't want to live through it anyway. I think I'll just walk out in it and get it over with." The man who spoke got nods of agreement from others.
"No you won't!" Toby's voice cracked with certainty. "You'll do just like everyone else will. You'll be fighting to live no matter how rotten things look. Just like dying people do."
Some agreed with rueful grins but no one hopped to claim they were going to start building a shelter.
++
Chapter 10
Thanksgiving Day is always the last Thursday in November. On Friday, a somber but determined Teamster spokesman announced the long-expected strike. The demands were for more and cheaper fuel.
Even as he admired the union's opportune timing, Toby Shatto listened with heavy heart. Christmas shipments would stop cold. How the businessmen would scream, how the populace would bellow in frustration, how the stores would empty, and how government officials would pontificate, pronounce, and run for cover. How the stock market wo
uld crash!
All weekend the powerful maneuvered to no avail and the wiser bought everything they could find. On Monday stores opened, and chaos reigned as insistent crowds stripped the food stores and emptied the service stations. The stock market nose-dived and banks experienced limited runs as people withdrew money to replace what they had spent.
Generally there was no panic and television interviewers appearing concerned but hopeful spoke with all sides. Governments promised action, including National Guardsmen delivering emergency supplies, but such measures were immediately denounced as strike breaking and were delayed until later. The dollar sagged to an all time low in Europe and Japan.
On Tuesday rioting was reported in some areas and mothers appeared on television demanding food for their families. In mid-afternoon unknown terrorists blew up the Alaskan pipeline.
After supper Toby Shatto locked his cave and drove cautiously on icy and unsalted roads into Millerstown. A desire to talk with others made his isolation irksome, and he expected more than a few valley men would be hunkered around the grocery store counter ready to grumble and predict until bedtime.
He eased into the square in low gear, touching his brakes gently, and half slid into a convenient parking space near Chop Clouser's big four-wheel drive. The sidewalk was slicker than the road and he skated his way into the warmth of the grocery.
A dozen men were in attendance with a few individuals filling carts among the aisles. Toby knew most of them and fitted himself into the talk.
For awhile they got after a non-union truck driver who feared to haul lest he get shot or beaten up.
"It's Ok for you guys to stand here and tell how brave I ought'a be, but if some hard guy put a rifled slug into my engine you aren't going to pay to get it fixed, and for damn sure your head wouldn't get lumped if they jerk me out of the cab."
"Much of that going on, Max?"
"No, because not many are dumb enough to drive into a city—even if we had diesel to do it on. Man, I can just see those guys waitin' out in the cold down by the terminal tryin' to keep warm over a burnin' barrel of trash an' just hopin' some fool will drive in so's they can turn his rig into junk and send him off to the Polyclinic."
"Well, I hope they get it settled soon. Things are bad enough without the trucks stopping."
"You think they're bad out here, think how rotten it must be in Harrisburg. Hell, they're runnin' out of heating oil, the stores are empty and so are the gas stations. At least we can heat our homes and we've got food put by."
An angular figure pushed one loaded shopping cart and pulled another to the cash register and Toby felt his soul wriggle in glee. Guessing what was coming Chop Clouser started to grin.
Innocently Toby fingered through the first overburdened cart. "Quite a load you've got there. Reverend Mantis. You entertaining a big crowd?"
Praying Mantis mumbled head-down denials and continued to pile his selections on the counter.
"And this other cart is yours also. Reverend?" Toby feigned surprise. "My, my, a regular truckload." Mantis' features flamed, but he made no answer.
"Well, Reverend, I just hope you aren't buying all these supplies for yourself during this time of shortage 'cause some people would think that was hoarding—or so I've heard."
Mantis' strange eyes flashed and flared at Toby without hint of amusement. Hate and rage appeared paramount before a rising chorus of comment from the other loafers turned him away. Again Toby felt warning twinges and decided to keep in mind that Praying Mantis could probably turn dangerous.
Amused laughter followed the Reverend although a few volunteers helped him negotiate the icy walk and brought the carts back inside.
"Man, Toby, you really got him with his drawers down. If I'd been him and seen you come in I'd of bought a candy bar or something and come back later. God, after the hiding he gave you he should of known what was coming."
"I've got to admit I enjoyed it, Chop. First time I've been able to say 'I told you so' since I got back."
Another joined in. "Looks like you'll have a lot of 'I told you so's' coming, Toby. With terrorists blowing up the pipeline, oil can't get better soon and without oil we've got big troubles."
"What in hell good does blowing up a pipeline do anybody, anyway? Hell, we all suffer."
Toby chose to field that one. "Well they can claim terrorists all they want but according to the TV the line was blown at about twenty points almost at once. Most of them were pumping stations or difficult places. Now how does a half-baked bunch of radicals accomplish that in the dead of winter?
"The way I see it, the charges had to be laid ahead of time and the whole works detonated by radio; probably from a passing airplane as there were a lot of empty miles involved and no one was found anywhere around.
"That's organized sabotage by people with a lot of resources and special skills. What do they gain? Not much unless it's part of a bigger plan.
"So, take a look at who's cut Iranian oil—what little there was anyway, and who has shut off our supply from Venezuela. Your answer is Communists, which means the Soviet Union. Which also means there's more to come."
"Oh hell, Toby, some of you people see Russians behind every bush. A sow can't miscarry without you're claiming Communists are behind it." There was a lot of agreeing laughter which Toby accepted with only a meager smile.
"Ok, just watch and see. Like the man said. I'm going to be able to claim a lot of 'I told you so's.'"
Chop and a few others took Toby aside. "Damn, Toby, this doesn't look good at all." Big Chop had worry lines creasing his broad forehead. "Joking's alright, but things are serious bad, and they're gettin' worse.
"Tell us straight now, without a lot of silly stuff. What do you think is happening?"
"Why Chop, it's just as I told you a few days past. I wasn't kidding then and I'm not now. This country—hell, the whole world—is on the skids and we are all going down. We've lived too high and too greedy for too long, and there isn't any nice way out."
"All right, supposing you're right. What's going to happen?"
"Hell, I can't figure it all, Chop! It's too complicated and there are a lot of ways things can happen. The point is that we can't do a damned thing about any of it. All we can do is batten down and make sure we make out.
"That's all I've ever suggested. Make sure you can go on living as long as necessary. Don't plan on two weeks, Chop. Look out there and you'll agree we've got to think in years, maybe the rest of our lives.
+++
It was lonesome living in the cave, watching the news, and waiting for . . . what he wasn't sure.
In normal times he would have moved around visiting people and running into the city. Of course, in normal times he wouldn't have been spending much time on the farm anyway.
He took to bundling up warmly and climbing the ridge to sit on the sunny side of one of the rusty metal covers that protected the cave's air vents. From there he could see across the valley and watch the few vehicles that still appeared on the valley road.
Once, he and Hanna Roth had sat in the same spot. He thought often of Hanna these days. Growing up together they had been the best of friends and that closeness had somehow prevented serious consideration of the other as boy or girlfriend. Then he had gone off to State College and she had attended Shippensburg.
They wrote occasional, light and newsy letters, each concerned with their own education. Then suddenly Hanna met a serious man, and before Toby could come to grips with all that meant she was married and moving away.
He could never forgive himself for that. He had been slow and unbelievably stupid. He had to admit that Ken Weigel was a good man. A little older, he had already made a place for himself in the Foreign Service and Hanna was certainly an aid to his career. He found it hard to think about Hanna without experiencing a sense of terrible loss.
Those first few months had been a miserable time for Toby. He was deprived of something important that he had had so long that he had never rea
lized its value. Of course he mentioned none of his feelings to Hanna, and they continued to write and saw each other occasionally in passing.
The Ken Weigels were currently stationed in Alexandria and Toby had called to tell Hanna and Ken of his father's passing. Since his return to Perry County he had written them two warning notes and sent a single terse cable. His message was short. "Protect yourselves because it is all going to fall this winter."
Hanna knew all about old George's fixation with survival of course. What she would think of his own adoption of the cause he wasn't certain. Undoubtedly Ken Weigel was getting a laugh from it, but it could also be true that they knew him well enough to consider his words and prepare. How they would manage that in a distant country he wasn't sure. He wished they lived close-by where he could keep a benevolent eye on them. Ken and Hanna were competent people but few would be ready for the degree of trouble he feared.
In the face of court orders and a national need beyond their expectations, the Teamsters capitulated and agreed to return to the roads, but fuel had to be distributed before trucks could run and all reserves grew tighter. Military supplies proved equally limited and absenteeism on all jobs (caused by individuals seeking food and warmth) hampered the restart.
Christmas profits were forgotten in the desperate need to get necessities rolling to the stores, and as Americans put their shoulders to the tasks, momentum began to build and hope flared.
On Thursday, two Panamanian tankers collided and sank under peculiar circumstances in the Strait of Hormuth and Lloyds immediately suspended all insurance coverage on ships near the straits. Oil shipments from the Middle East virtually ended.
Predictably, OPEC dramatically raised oil prices and desperate bidders swarmed for it. The western nations shuddered and struggled on. The Soviet Union claimed internal need and exported oil only to its Eastern Bloc.
Late on Friday the ax fell. Without warning the nations of Eastern Europe announced en masse default on all loans from western banks. They spoke of international depression and national desperation but the reasons, real or imagined, did not matter. More than one hundred billion in losses could not be absorbed and foundering Third World economies quickly leaped upon the wagon and announced their own inability to pay on their massive debts.
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