The house Fran had kept was the one right on the corner of Cottage and Main, and the driveway was rather short. Most of the property lay beyond it, hidden from the mainstreet approach by small trees and gargantuan bushes. Christine drove slowly on the rutted, dirt driveway, and pulled in behind a beat-up, old Chevy Suburban. Parked nearby was an almost brand-new, jet-black, lifted Ford F-150, which appeared to have been unceremoniously shoved off to the side of the driveway. That had been Fran’s “play toy,” but Christine doubted it still worked for anyone to play with, now.
She looked over her shoulder. “Okay, kids. We are here. Don’t knock Fran over when you rush up to her. She’s old, you know.”
Both kids had opened their doors and were rushing outside before she even finished her sentence. Christine watched as they sprinted to the front door, which opened before they cleared the top step to the front patio.
Christine watched as her mother, Fran, eagerly embraced the children, but she made no move to get out of the car, yet.
Mary put her hand on Christine’s shoulder, lightly. “This can’t be easy for you. I’m here for you, as long as she lets me be. Oh God, you don’t think she might refuse to let me in, do you? Where would I go?”
Christine exhaled sharply. “No, you’re fine. If I know Fran, she has years’ worth of food stocked up in some hidey-hole nearby, and as much as we don’t get along, she’s not going to turn away the one person I brought with me to escape Denver.”
At least, she hoped not… She and Fran had a changed relationship since the divorce was announced. No, it would be fine. Christine drew a deep breath, gathered her nerves, then said, “Okay, let’s go. I’ll introduce you, first.”
As she climbed out, she heard behind her the sound of the officers’ car doors opening, then closing. She winced when Fran looked up, spotted the uniformed officers, and immediately stiffened, her eyes narrowing.
“Hello, Fran,” Christine said with a polite smile and a wave as she approached the front porch.
“How many times do I have to tell you, it’s ‘Mom’ to you, or ‘Franny.’” Fran glanced back and forth between her daughter and the two officers. “What did you do, now?”
Hunter, still wrapped in Fran’s bear hug, said loudly, “Nana, she didn’t do anything. After we got out of Denver—which was crazy, by the way, I’ll have to tell you all about it—they helped us out and followed us here, just to make sure we arrived safely.”
Darcy said loudly, her eyes widening, “Nana, did you know there’s bandits out there right now? All the roads are really dangerous.”
Fran nodded, and her pursed lips shifted to a wan smile. “Very well. Thank you both,” she called out to the officers over Christine’s shoulder. “I appreciate you getting my family here, safe and sound.”
Then, her eyes shifted to Christine again. “And who are your other friends?”
“Friends?” Oh, damn. Christine had forgotten all about Wiley, and hadn’t gotten to Mary, yet. She smiled for Fran’s benefit and turned to introduce them—then remembered what she and Mary had told the cops. She paused, then said, “This is my good friend, Mary. When everything went nuts, she just sort of ended up with us. She’s been a real help on the road with the kids while we went to pick up her cousin’s boyfriend.”
Then, she motioned toward Wiley with her hand out, palm up. “This is Wiley Smith. He lived in one of the neighborhoods between here and Denver, but his whole neighborhood is empty, and there were no stores, and his car stopped working. We went to go get him, but broke down. He helped us get ours going again, after it broke down. We haven’t had a chance yet to drop him off.”
Fran nodded once again. “Mary, it’s a pleasure. Any friend of Christine’s is welcome here, for as long as she’s here. Mister Smith, I appreciate you. Thanks for helping my daughter out, even if you’re the reason she was out there in the first place. And for not trying to take advantage of a single woman out on the road without a man, what with your girlfriend stuck at home, I presume.”
Christine grimaced. She had nothing to look forward to but those kinds of verbal jabs, at least until the crisis passed and she could go home…
Wiley’s sing-song voice, pleasant and rich, rang out. “It was my pleasure, ma’am. I know how I would want people to treat my sister, so I was doing just what I would want someone to do for her. It was nothing, and I got the better end of the deal. A free ride.” He smiled, his face lighting up.
It was infectious; Fran smiled back, and Christine finally relaxed, at least as much as she could being at her mother’s. It seemed Fran wasn’t going to take offense at her traveling with a strange man, and she’d welcomed Mary as warmly as Fran ever did for anyone. Hurdle number one: Success.
Still smiling, Fran said, “Oh, you’re a charmer, aren’t you?” Then, she finally let go of her grandkids and motioned toward her front door. “Well, I’m sure you all had a long day. Lucky for you, I take my supper late, and I always make enough to freeze off leftovers. I have plenty for you all, so come on in. Shoes off at the door, please.”
As she turned to head through her front door without so much as looking back, Officer Kelley said, “No, thank you, ma’am. My partner and I need to get back on the road, so we can get back to our duty station. We’ll need some fuel, though. Is there a gas station in town?”
She stopped in her tracks and turned around, putting her hands on her hips and glaring. “No, sir. Both you officers are having dinner here, and I don’t want to hear any lip about it. I won’t have people leaving, just to tell everyone that Fran Thatcher is a poor host. I’m sure your boss can wait long enough for you two strapping men to eat something.”
She turned back around and strode through her door, calling back over her shoulder, “Let’s go, everyone, before my food gets cold.”
Christine glanced at her companions.
Wiley shrugged and headed for the door. “I sure wouldn’t want to be rude by declining a home-cooked meal,” he said, though Christine could have sworn she saw him glance over her shoulder at the officers, and more than once. That could be nothing, though.
Once she got inside, Christine entered the kitchen to help Fran dish up more plates. Part of her hated how she felt almost like her teen self again whenever she saw her mother, but the other part debated whether it was only that, or if she just wanted to be the one to hand the cute officer his dinner.
The thought made her cheeks warm up, and when she did set his plate before him a few minutes later, she felt even clumsier than usual, almost dumping it over his lap. She managed to recover it without getting a drop on him.
She smiled so much in doing it that she had to tell herself it was merely because she was being polite. But was it? She shook her head to clear the unwelcome thoughts, and at last sat down to eat as well.
After dinner—a meal of pork chops, baked potatoes, and snapped green beans, far better than anything Christine had eaten in days, or really, years if she were honest with herself—she began clearing the table without being asked. Again, a force of habit. Doing something, anything at all, calmed her nerves. Fran had been pleasant enough during the meal, sidestepping the million questions she no doubt wanted to hammer her daughter with, but it had jangled Christine’s nerves waiting for the deluge to begin. Well, at least Fran had gotten Officer Kelley’s first name. David…
Fran, coming out of the kitchen just as Christine was heading in with an armload of plates, stopped in the doorway, effectively blocking it. “Chrissy, you all were guests in my home. Why do you have to go and embarrass me like that? I serve you and your friends, and you have to go and show me up. Let me clean.”
Christine kept her face carefully neutral on seeing Fran’s irritation. Fran had a way of figuring out just what she was thinking, and she really didn’t want her pleasure at it to show. “I don’t mind, Fran. They may be your guests, but I haven’t forgotten the routine, nor my manners. I’m happy to help.”
Fran studied her in silence for a moment, t
hen gave her a slight nod. “Fine. But don’t you dare help after breakfast, tomorrow.”
“You’re inviting the officers and my friends to stay the night?” Although she hadn’t wanted them to come in the first place, it was too late for that. Now, it was getting late, and Kelley…David…and his partner had gotten her family there safely, so she’d hoped for that, but she hadn’t yet asked in the hopes Fran would offer. Her mother could be…well, somewhat of a recluse, when it came to people she didn’t know in her house. Guests for dinner was one thing, but staying the night? And more than one? And two of them, cops?
Yeah, Christine hadn’t been certain at all that her mother would say yes, much less offer it herself.
Fran shrugged. “New times, new habits. These people helped you get home safely. And I suppose, if you’re clearing my table, that makes this your home, too, for as long as you choose to stay.”
Christine’s eyes widened. That was an unexpected reaction, given how chilly things had been between them. She was not entirely sure how she felt about that.
Fran continued, “Things are bad and only getting worse. It scares me to think of you and my grandkids out there all alone. A safe place to sleep for the night is the least I can give them.”
Fran cocked her head back. This was new, though truth be told, Christine hadn’t been to her mother’s house in years, beyond simply to drop off the kids for a visit. Christine had become an adult in that time, so she supposed it had been long enough for an old dog like Fran to learn some new tricks.
It probably was a trick, actually. At that thought, Christine squashed her rising hope and prepared for the other shoe to drop. Surely it would drop directly on her, just as soon as Fran thought Christine had relaxed and lowered her guard.
Christine nodded back. “Thank you. I do owe them, so I appreciate you letting them stay. I’m a bit surprised you would let cops stay here, though.”
One corner of Fran’s mouth ticked upward. “The plants and plant-based products I sell now make more than the GMO garbage I harvested back at the farm. With all my extra greenhouse space, I’ve already made more this year than in all of last year—not that I can get to it. Most of it is in the banks.”
“In ‘the banks’?” Christine grinned, couldn’t help it. “You never put a dime in a bank in your whole life. Don’t lie to me.”
Fran’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Oh, all right, not most of it. But a lot. I still made more money this year than last, so I don’t really care if the banks never open up again. It’d be worth what it cost me. The world might be a better place without them. But I keep most of my money in a more, shall we say, reliable place.”
Christine started to roll her eyes, but caught herself. This was a conversation they’d had many times as she grew up, and always, her mom got the same thrilled look. Perhaps Fran just enjoyed tormenting her. “Okay, I’ll bite. What is it this time? Alpacas? Emu eggs?”
“No, I learned my lesson with those fads. Fads pass, but there are a few things that hold their value in every time and place, in all of history. Especially when things go tits up.” She smiled, almost as though she were pleased with that fact.
Christine didn’t bother to hide her grimace. “You enjoy that entirely too much.”
“No, I don’t. That was rude. I’m not happy I was right—but I was right. Truthfully, I thought the dollar would collapse, but the end result is the same. More people than food, a dollar hardly worth the paper it’s printed on, goods and services not flowing. You know. Collapse.”
Christine paused. That made a certain amount of sense, and Fran had always been resilient to life’s shifting fortunes. As it turned out, her mother’s decision to sell her traditional farm and move into some weird, fringe-hippie gardening had been fortunate in its timing. From what little Christine knew about it, sustainable agriculture was actually based in sound science, and with overnight delivery a simple matter anywhere in the continental US, Fran had capitalized on the growing organics movement.
“Okay, like I said—I’ll bite. What did you invest in? No guesses, just tell me.”
Fran looked around the kitchen, as though anyone else would be in it without her seeing them coming in, then locked eyes with her daughter. “I’ll tell you what. There’s a town meeting in half an hour that I need to attend. This town has some problems now, just like everywhere. But I think I have some solutions to many of those problems, thanks to the stuff I’ve been researching and getting into over the last few years.”
Town meetings…ugh. It would be better to pull a tooth than to attend one of those. “Do you think they’ll even listen? You complain about the HOA President so much, he sounds like someone not open to new ideas.”
“This town has been good to all of us, you included, even if you never appreciated that. But I do appreciate it, and I’ll at least try to get them to hear what I have to say. I don’t think it’ll last more than a couple of hours, but if you are still up when I get home, I’ll tell you all about it. I’ll do you one better, even, and show you some of my goodies.” Fran’s smile reached her eyes, making them sparkle mischievously.
Christine was actually interested, for once. What had her mother looking so mischievous? She found herself nodding as she replied, “Yes, I’ll stay up until you get back. I don’t think I could sleep anyway, at least not until sheer exhaustion makes me pass out. So don’t take too long storming the castle, okay?”
Fran rolled her eyes. “I swear, it’s almost like you think I stay after to actually chat with people. You should know me better than that.”
Without waiting for a reply, she stepped around Christine and headed out into the dining room, and by the time Christine had rinsed off the plates she’d already brought in, Fran was bringing in another armload of dishes.
Christine hummed a little tune as she slid the new dishes into the sink for scrubbing, before shoving them in the dishwasher. Actually, practically the weirdest part about the whole evening was the discovery that Fran even owned a dishwasher. Ha, she must have been getting soft in her old age.
Later that evening, the family huddled around Christine’s portable radio. The monotone announcer said they had been receiving reports that Denver P.D. had begun performing house-to-house searches in some neighborhoods, and arresting people who had a lot of food or goods stored inside. When he said the charges were all for the crime of hoarding, Christine was surprised to hear David let out a low whistle, while his partner, Orien, twisted his face into a grimace.
She said, “If you had gone back yet, you’d be out there stealing from people who’d been smart enough to have some food left. Could you do it, if you were ordered to?”
The two officers exchanged a glance, something passing between them that Christine didn’t quite understand. David replied, “I don’t always agree with the law, but it’s still my duty to enforce it. Whenever we get orders to enforce a law like that, at least in training, they always tell us the legal justification for it.”
“To ease your conscience?”
“No. That way, we have something to tell citizens who might be inclined to resist. If there are hoarding laws on the books, then yes, I would have to enforce them. Hopefully, people would want to change that law before it came to that, but it doesn’t sound like they did.”
Christine’s upper lip twitched, once. “I see. Well, I hope that stops before you get back. But how could you enforce a law you feel is wrong?” She watched David intently, waiting to see his reaction.
“Christine,” he said, “the laws of the land are enacted by the will of the people. Whether that’s through a referendum or by electing representatives who agree with their position, in the end, people get the laws they want.”
“Yes, but I don’t think they wanted that,” Christine replied. “You should judge for yourself whether the orders are doing that protect-and-serve thing you do.”
David shook his head, gaze level. “First of all, I think those reports are exaggerated. It couldn’t be mo
re than a couple of the worst offenders, or else the mayor couldn’t have gotten that ball rolling so quickly. Not without having plans for this in place ahead of time, which is impossible to believe.”
“Uh-huh.” Something about the way he’d said the last part sounded less than convinced, to her ears. “And secondly?”
“Police officers are not judges, nor are we juries. We don’t decide what is right or wrong; we merely serve the people by enforcing the laws they enact.”
Christine paused to consider a response, but just then, the front door opened and Fran stepped inside.
Hunter and Darcy rushed to give her hugs, full of smiles, and then Hunter said, “Nana, we were listening to the radio, and it says the cops there are stealing people’s food.”
Fran raised an eyebrow, then looked up to scan the room with her eyes before locking on to David. “Is that true?”
He shook his head, but also shrugged. “I have no reason to doubt it, and I’m sure there are laws on the books to justify it, legally. Still, that isn’t exactly what the radio said. They said that the police have been ordered to conduct searches for hoarders. Apparently, there are laws against hoarding in times of emergency. I didn’t know that, it had never come up before, but yes, it would be lawful.”
Fran shook her head, her lips pressed so tightly together that they turned white. Then she said, “There is a difference between what’s lawful and what’s right, Mr. Kelley.”
“Laws are how society says what is right, ma’am.”
Fran made a single clucking sound, then turned to Christine. “Chrissy, dear, would you be so kind as to help me rummage through the basement? I want to grab my emergency radio so we have a spare, and some batteries.”
Inception of Chaos: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Story Page 12