|
Post by bretf on Jun 26, 2016 13:07:12 GMT
Chapter 13: Where Were You When the World Stopped Turning
Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day? Out in the yard with your wife and children Workin' on some stage in LA?
Did you stand there in shock at the sight of that black smoke Rising against that blue sky? Did you shout out in anger and fear for your neighbor Or did you just sit down and cry?
Did you weep for the children who lost their dear loved ones Or pray for the ones who don't know? Did you rejoice for the people who walked from the rubble And sob for the ones left below?
Did you burst out in pride for the red, white, and blue And the heroes who died just doing what they do? Did you look up to Heaven for some kind of answer And look at yourself and what really matters?
I'm just a singer of simple songs, I'm not a real political man I watch CNN but I'm not sure I could tell you the difference in Iraq and Iran But I know Jesus and I talk to God and I remember this from when I was young Faith, hope and love are some good things He gave us And the greatest is love
Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day? Teaching a class full of innocent children driving down some cold interstate? Did you feel guilty cause you're a survivor In a crowded room did you feel alone? Did you call up your mother and tell her you love her Did you dust off that Bible at home?
Did you open your eyes, hope it never happened or close your eyes and not go to sleep? Did you notice the sunset the first time in ages or speak to some stranger on the street? Did you lay down at night and think of tomorrow go out and buy you a gun? Did you turn off that violent old movie you're watching and turn on I Love Lucy reruns?
Did you go to the church and hold hands with some stranger stand in line and give your own blood? Did you just stay home and cling tight to your family thank God you had somebody to love?
I'm just a singer of simple songs I'm not a real political man I watch CNN but I'm not sure I could tell you the difference in Iraq and Iran But I know Jesus and I talk to God and I remember this from when I was young Faith, hope and love are some good things He gave us And the greatest is love
“Where were you when the world stopped turning” Performed by Alan Jackson Written by Alan Jackson
When Bill went out to do his chores it was still dark, but the air was noticeably cleaner and cooler. A slight breeze was blowing against his left cheek and had cleared most of the smoke from the valley. He looked up and could see the stars for the first time in a week. Boy that’s nicer breathing, but I sure hope it’s not pushing the fires faster. The catch 22 of wind in fire season: cleaner air or flames that are being fanned. He breathed deeply, enjoying the clear air, feeling the bite of approaching fall now that the smoke didn’t trap the heat in place.
Once the milk was running through the strainer, he washed, filled his coffee cup and took a sip, and set the large frying pan on the stove on low heat and filled it with bacon. He set the pancake griddle on the other side of the stove to start warming while he got the pancake batter mixed. Two cups of starter were poured back in the Tupperware container and put in the fridge. He mixed an egg, milk and vegetable oil and stirred the mixture thoroughly into the sourdough. Sugar, salt and soda were mixed in a small dish and folded into the batter and then the bowl was set aside to allow the sourdough to work. While he was working on breakfast he had the I-pod on, humming to some songs, singing with some and skipping past others.
When breakfast was nearly ready he rousted the rest of the family out of bed. Bill especially enjoyed Sunday morning breakfast. It was the one morning of the week they always sat down together and the break from oatmeal was almost as nice. The pancakes and bacon were accompanied by fried eggs, milk, melon and chokecherry syrup. The chokecherries had come from the road leading to Bob’s mountain cabin.
Pushing away from the table, satisfied, but not overly full Bill chuckled when he looked at Brad. Brad could be a picky eater and subsist on very little when the food was something he didn’t care for. But he sure made up for it with sourdough pancakes. He had finished three and was reaching for his fourth. The bacon he had put on his plate was also gone.
“Why don’t you go on down and start, I’ll clean up here,” Amy told Bill. She didn’t like meat cutting day, and tried to just wrap, tape and label the packages. The smell of the room full of fresh meat nearly overwhelmed her. The kids, on the other hand, loved to feed strips of meat into the grinder.
“All right. You guys can join us as soon as you are done. I’ll walk, but you need to drive the van down so we can pack everything home.” He washed, brushed his teeth and hair and made the short walk to his parent’s house.
The shop had been transformed that morning. Bob and Cal had moved the gasifier parts outside and all of the equipment to one side of the shop. They had set up tables for cutting and wrapping. The meat band saw was set up in one corner, having been brought from the storage shed and cleaned up. The meat grinder was set up nearby. The saw, the grinder and a cuber had come from an auction at an independent grocery store that hadn’t been able to compete with the chain stores. Each had been cleaned and had a light coating of white oil wiped onto their surfaces. Two hog carcasses lay on the tables ready to be processed. The radio was playing on the country station Cal always listened to. Bill noted Bob must have turned the volume down. Cal, not willing to admit he needed hearing aids, usually had the radio loud enough for the neighbors to listen to comfortably.
Alan came in and was soon directing his brothers where to cut. Alan removed hams, bacons loins and started Bill to work cutting chops on the band saw. All fat was put in a tub to be rendered for lard. All small meat scraps would be ground for sausage. By the time Amy and the kids joined them with Bill’s mother, Alan’s wife and Carla, a large pile of meat was ready to be wrapped into serving size packages. Other members of the family trickled in; Alan directed them to what needed done.
Bill turned off the band saw after cutting another pile of chops and in the momentary stillness, the voice from the radio came across, “… authorities on the scene are very tight lipped. They only confirm that it was a Christian Church with a large congregation. It is still unknown if anyone was able to escape the blast and ensuing blaze.” All work stopped as everyone was transfixed by the news, frozen in place. Bob’s knife was suspended in the air, nearly grazing his other hand holding a loin.
Cal broke the trance. “This aint gettin’ the work done. Let’s get back at it.” He looked to Carla’s daughter, “Melissa, you go in the house and see what you can find out.” Melissa was glad for the break. She was nearly white from looking at all of the meat and animal carcasses. Each piece of meat she handled was with just two fingers, acting like it was something she had scraped off the bottom of her shoe. For her, meat should come in a Styrofoam container with shrink wrap covering, if it didn’t come to her already cooked.
They got back to work, but without the friendly banter and conversation of before. Bill begrudgingly turned on the band saw, not wanting the saw noise to overwhelm the radio.
When Melissa returned, she looked even whiter than before, tears streaming down her pale face. “There’s been bombings and fires in at least ten places. They hit two football … stadiums just as the … games were starting. They … hit the NASCAR race … four mega-churches. Three … grocery stores. Everywhere a lot of … people are … gathering. There are other …. reports coming in but … they aren’t all confirmed.” The message was delivered in broken phases, laced with sobs. Her tears flowed freely down her cheeks.
The grim news was greeted by stunned silence except for the radio that announced yet another NFL stadium ablaze. Authorities were trying to evacuate all other stadiums before more could be attacked. Cal sent a message to the still group by turning on the meat grinder and started feeding meat into it, drowning out the radio. Bill said a silent prayer for everyone involved and prayed that the violence would not escalate.
When everyone broke for lunch, it was obvious Bill’s prayer request was not honored. At least twenty seven separate bombings had taken place in locations spanning the country. And each one had been placed for maximum damage. A large church bombing in Flint, Michigan had the effect of inciting even more violence. Where all of the previous bombings had been done in secret, a mob formed in Flint in front of a mosque, openly burning the building and firing upon anyone that showed themselves. The news from across the nation was disheartening to see the images of what people could do to each other. Every few minutes a report would come in of yet another bombing. The news anchor had many lapses while trying to pass on the news he was receiving. After one paper was given to him, he read it slowly, his hand shaking and making the paper bounce around. He dropped the paper, and put his face in his hands for a few moments; stood and left the news desk. Bill turned from the TV and went back to the shop.
All of the meat was packaged in serving sizes except the slabs of bacon meat and the hams. Bob would take them the next day to a local meat plant that did custom curing and smoking. The packages were split up into boxes for everyone to take home and put in their freezers. Bill took all of the pig fat home to render for lard. “You are not doing that in the house!” Amy informed him. He had made lard previously and she still complained about the smell years later.
“No, I’ll put it in the slow cookers in the shop,” he answered. He also had the extra beef fat. Somewhere he had a paper that discussed beef tallow candles. He planned on attempting to make some if time allowed. They were supposed to be inferior to wax candles, but when it was black out, any light helped. If he didn’t get it done, Bob could always take the fat to the mountain. That was what they were doing with all of the remains from butchering and processing the animals. Bob regularly dropped off bad food that bears obligingly cleaned up.
After Bill and Amy had all of their meat packed away, and he had filled the slow cookers with pig fat and started them, they went to the house and checked the news. The list was sickening. Every state in the union had been struck. Many houses of worship had been firebombed: Christian, Catholic, Mormon. A Catholic Church in Boise had been bombed during mass. That stuffs not supposed to happen here. Large sporting events had been targeted. Besides the football games and car race, a baseball stadium had also been bombed. The whole thing was unbelievable. Bill and Amy were silent as the local scene was aired, tears streaming down Amy’s face. Okay, I was planning for the worst, but I really didn’t think they would hit here. I figured they would target larger cities. Planning for disaster and having one stare you in the face are two separate things. More grocery stores were destroyed; also some grocery warehouses. In some locations government buildings were the targets. It was a dark day in America reminiscent of December 7th and September 11th. Amy tried time after time to reach her siblings, but the calls did not go through. The kids took it upon themselves to take care of the evening chores. Only Amanda had registered Mischief calling to them for grain and milking.
While they were watching, the video feed went to the state house where the governor was making a statement. Wow, was it really just a month ago I saw him at the rodeo? Riding through the arena, then smiling and glad-handing people in the stands. This was a sterner, worn, older man than Bill had seen so recently. His statement was not the “don’t worry, we’re okay” talk that had been coming from Washington. Instead, his message addressed the fact the nation was under attack. The assailants had not been apprehended and could be anywhere as evidenced by the day’s actions. He asked the people to be extra diligent in observing their surroundings. The authorities couldn’t fix this without help. What kind of politician is he if he admits shortcomings without blaming them on the other party?
Before watching more of the news coverage, Bill went to his car and got out his “Get Home Bag”. It was a midsize back pack that he had put together and carried in the car and hoped it would never be used. He set it out on this work bench and one-by one, checked each pocket and its contents. Many of the contents were in gallon zip lock bags, labeled by category.
First Aid Thyroid medication Aspirin Benadryl Ibuprofen Triple Antibiotic Sinus Medication Imodium AD Children’s Tylenol Moleskin Bandages Alcohol Swabs Triangle bandage Gauze Sanitary pads Tape Sunblock Chapstick Floss Laminated emergency contact card with doctors, medications, listed for the family
Light LED Flashlight (2) Light sticks
Fire Road Flare Bic Lighter (2) Magnesium fire starter Starter kit: pitch slivers, cotton balls infused in Vaseline, wrapped in aluminum foil squares Candle Strike anywhere matches
Shelter 6’ x 8’ tarp Mylar safety blanket (2) Clear plastic sheet
Clothes Wool stocking cap 4 hand/foot warmers Gloves Bandanas (2) Thick wool socks Light socks Broken in tennis shoes Poncho T-Shirt Underwear
Water Water bottle with filter, filled Stainless Steel bottle, filled Small bottle of bleach Sierra Cup
Food Cliff Bars MRE Instant Tea Instant Coffee Powdered Gatorade Tin of tuna Hard Candies
Misc. White cotton Towel Road Map, Topo maps Notepad and pens/pencil Thumb drive with emergency info Handheld FRS / GMRS Radio Toilet Paper Cellphone battery $200 cash Phone Card Sewing kit Gorilla Tape Para cord 50’ Hand sanitizer Whistle Zip ties Rubber bands Safety Pins Wet Wipes
Tools Fixed Blade Knife Cable Saw Compass Multi-Tool Signal Mirror
It was a lot, definitely overkill, but its presence comforted him. Most of the items had been removed from the original packaging when possible and grouped and put in baggies. He had packed it some time ago and had never needed it.
All batteries were replaced with new ones, even though they had been kept separate. He would take the cell phone battery in the house to charge. The water bottles were dumped, rinsed and refilled. He got familiar with everything that was in the bag and which pocket the different items were in. He checked the integrity of the straps and zippers. He checked the two carabineers on the outside that had another 50’ of Para-cord wrapped between them. He returned the pack to the car and checked the jacket he had folded next to it, and then added a stout walking stick. He pulled Amy’s bag from the van and carried it into the house. He sat down and went over the contents with her. She had shown little interest when he first put the bag together; now she gave it her undivided attention.
He considered the kids lunch bags. So much was not allowed in school these days and their school was within a mile of the house. They each carried extra food, some money and Amanda had the emergency use cell phone. He said a prayer that they make it home safely if something else happened. They had been lectured many times on getting out of there if there was danger.
*****
Aashif Akil took a long drag on his cigarette and smiled – an action so rare for him it would have been considered a grimace by most onlookers. He was sitting in a room illuminated by several wide screen televisions mounted on the wall. The ice in his glass rattled as he raised it to his lips took a drink of the strong liquor. He emitted a satisfied sigh as the liquor warmed him on the way down; then mentally cursed the decadence of the infidels and their liquor and women that had exposed his own weaknesses. He would be glad when this country was brought to its knees and he himself would find his way to the afterlife. He did not delude himself about how it would turn out for him. The west had corrupted him and he had been too soft and weak to stop it. But he would bring them destruction just as they had destroyed him. He looked sharply at the amber liquid in the glass and took another drink.
The televisions were tuned into different news stations reporting the glories of the day. He chuckled and turned up the sound on a shot of a burning Mormon church, then snarled as the next camera shot was of a mosque burning. He was interrupted by the sound of a cleared throat behind him. “Yes?” he asked without turning.
“The day was a great success, Allah be praised. The infidels have been dealt a great defeat. All teams have reported in but two. It is unclear if they carried out their missions or not. All are awaiting orders for the next phase. Is it time to turn out the lights? Can we finish this and leave this forsaken land?”
“They are to proceed according to their previous instructions. We will let the dogs cower in fear of the might of Allah before we give the killing blow. They will come to fear each bump in the night.” His usual unreadable face carried a look of ecstasy.
|
|
|
Post by bretf on Jun 26, 2016 13:15:35 GMT
Chapter 14: Little Road
How can there be trouble in this world? With the color in these hills, the blue October sky, This little road that winds along the river. Dusty barns and tractors in the fields. And families sit in front yards, or stand outside the churches. Kids are throwing footballs and pulling carts of pumpkins And the morning sun is sparkling on the water
How can there be such trouble in this world? Where the mountains roll so gently, Deer graze on the hillsides, birds chat on the phone lines The whole wide world’s a prayer for Sunday Morning The geese inspect the stubble in the fields And all along the roadside, families stop to wonder At the new October morning And a red tailed hawk is circling And a father hugs his daughter And an old man holds the car door for his wife to come and see Then they turn and smile at me. How can there be such trouble in this world?
I know of course I know that this is not the only picture I don’t of course I don’t know what to do
But the road keeps winding through the afternoon And it doesn’t know the sorrow or an inkling of the shadow Or the rage across the water, the hatred and the horror. It just wanders through this valley with the river by its side As the light fades from the sky The beautiful light fades from the sky.
“Little Road” Performed by Cheryl Wheeler Written by Cheryl Wheeler
His internal alarm woke Bill, still clothed in his recliner. The TV was on, with images of the carnage currently onscreen, the ticker at the bottom running through the locations that were affected. I don’t remember the networks having news on this early, but they’ve obviously changed their programming for this. Amy was asleep on the couch. The kids had not wanted to see any of the non-stop news and had gone to their bedrooms soon after supper. Amanda was visibly upset by the days’ events; Brad was too but seemed more confused about it.
Bill squinted at the corner of the screen to see what the time was: 4:55. I guess it’s time to get up. But he didn’t get up right away. He was glued to the spot watching the different scenes as they came across the screen. Lord, but those . . . . guys were efficient, sorry Lord for my thoughts. Finally he shook himself free and turned the TV off.
Opening first Brad’s bedroom door, then Amanda’s, he stood and looked in, the rooms illuminated by the dim glow of the night lights; the kids sleeping soundly, peaceful looks on their faces. He breathed deeply and absorbed everything he could from the scenes: the shadows across the dim sleeping shapes, the smells of the closed up rooms, the creaks of the bed when Brad shifted. God, please keep them safe. They are my world.
When he stepped out the backdoor, milk bucket in hand, he stopped on the step. Again he breathed deeply; only a very faint smoke smell on the air. He gazed at the stars in the sky, the dark shapes of the cottonweed trees shifting slightly in the breeze. The breeze was soft on his skin, a cool sense of impending fall on it; a welcome change after the record setting heat of the summer. A rooster crowed, telling all that morning was imminent. A coyote yapped in the hills, quickly echoed by another; answered challengingly by a couple of neighborhood dogs. It feels so normal, and I’ve been taking it all for granted. It could all end in the blink of a madman’s eye. For a long while he stood there, savoring the peace of the moment, thinking about the fragility of it all like never before. His thoughts drifted to the thousands who were in far more unfortunate circumstances to start the new day. The goats began a chorus to hurry him up while he stood and prayed.
After morning chores were done, Bill checked the week’s calendar. He really wanted to work on the greenhouse expansion, but with two active kids he didn’t know that he would have time. It felt even more urgent now. The kids were both in scouts, each had music lessons, youth group at church and cross country. It made for a lot of taxi time for him and Amy. It looked like this night would be free, other than getting the kids home from cross country practice.
With everything that had happened, he wanted to keep the kid’s routines as normal as possible, while also keeping them safe. He tried to be as involved in their activities as possible. All too soon they would be grown, Lord willing all too soon they would be grown.
Amy was woken by the smell of fresh brewed coffee accompanied by Bill’s noise from the kitchen. She greeted him with a good morning kiss and long-strong hug. He noted it was earlier than he normally woke her. “Was it all just a bad dream? Please tell me it wasn’t real.”
“I’m afraid it was all too real, and everything that will happen because of it.” He filled a cup of coffee for her with lots of creamer and they sat together at the kitchen island. “I was thinking this morning,” he paused briefly, and then continued when she didn’t say anything, “I want to put in a full root cellar. The storage room in the shop just doesn’t stay cool enough for long term storage. It holds the stuff well enough over the winter, but I’m hoping for some longer storage. If we wanted to get it done fast, which I do, I would hire it out so I don’t know about the cost. I’ve seen articles of septic tank companies making them with basically two septic tanks – minus the baffles, set one on top of the other and sealed between them.”
Amy thought about it while tears began running freely down her face. It was proof that she was upset when she didn’t have a wisecrack for his ‘I was thinking’ comment. She rarely let something like that pass. “I don’t want to revert to a root cellar. I want those people caught and made an example of and everything back to normal.” She paused, sniffed loudly, and pulled a tissue from the nearby box and blew her nose. “But I’m not going to get my way, am I?” She stopped again and wiped her eyes. “Do you have a place picked out?”
“I was thinking about the space between the shop and the greenhouse where it has a lot of shade. It’s the only place I can think of that is relatively close to the house that gets a lot of shade and doesn’t have trees and their roots too close. I can go by the septic tank place today and talk to them and get an idea of cost and timing.”
Again Amy thought, taking a drink from her coffee. “Okay, see what they say, but let’s talk about it again and show me the plans before you do it, please?”
“All right. Will you be able to pick the kids up from practice today or should I plan on doing it?” he asked.
“I’ll get them. You certainly have something to work on here so you better come home.” Amy was studying the same calendar Bill had looked over earlier. “Tomorrow though, I can get them home from cross country practice and we’ll have to divide and each one of us take one of them to scouts. I think I can do youth group on Wednesday. That leaves Thursday. Will you be able to make it to the meet?”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” he said. “Well, I’ve got to be getting on to work. We can firm up the rest of the week’s schedule tonight.” Barring nothing else happening to shake things up. Amy gave him a longer hug before he headed for his car.
The drive to work was another opportunity to really look at and appreciate his surroundings. The sun was just sending the first light over the mountains, long shadows being cast. The clouds in the eastern sky and the smoke that was still present in the upper air presented an amazing array of red as the sun’s rays burst through. The leaves on trees were beginning to turn yellow and orange with occasional vibrant splashes of red. A blue heron stood motionless in an alfalfa field hunting mice, while at the far side a group of mule deer were eating, an older doe watching for impending danger, ready to bolt for the security offered by some nearby elm trees. Bill had a strong urge to pull over to the side of the road and relish the sight and momentarily forget about the world. He suppressed the urge and kept driving. Lights were coming on in the subdivisions that he remembered as hay and corn fields. The route he took was not the main thoroughfare; normally there were more joggers and bicyclers than cars. The morning after Black Sunday it was nearly devoid of traffic.
Tom was at the office with the coffee made when Bill arrived. He looked…rumpled, was the best word Bill could come up with. “Those dirty . . . , I don’t know, I just can’t think of words rotten enough for them! They really hit us, didn’t they? And our exalted leaders were telling us how everything was in control. Yeah, right, somebodies in control and I don’t think it’s the Feds.” When Tom shifted his position, Bill noticed the holstered pistol on his belt.
Bill got his coffee cup, filled it and sat down across from Tom. “Yes, it was a horrible day. The full scope of it really concerns me – no, it scares the daylights out of me. They had to have cells everywhere, and to get so much coordination in spite of all the NSA’s spying. We, or I guess I always assumed they had cells in the big cities. But they hit every state yesterday, from the heavily populated to the least. I could be wrong, I am a lot, but it looks to me like they were sending us a message that nowhere is safe. I think they are better organized and apparently a whole lot smarter than the guys looking for them. The way the government has been monitoring emails and phone lines and they were still able to pull this off. The fox is in the henhouse with no sign of leaving.”
The front door opened and Greg and Steve came in together discussing the previous day, followed by most of the outside crew. Jimmy, his eyes red and puffy, was complaining about missing the race and football games. “Can you believe that? I couldn’t find the race or any games on TV yesterday. What kind of Sunday is that? I was so mad, I kind of threw my beer bottle at the TV; it must have been a little hard because it busted something. I couldn’t get the TV to work after that so I just got plastered. So do any of you know if the Cowboys won or not? Dang, I need some aspirin.”
Tom just shook his head in wonder as Jimmy walked past on his way to the medicine cabinet, not bothering to listen to the reason why the games weren’t on.
“Gentlemen”, Tom began, looking at all of his workers. “As all of you obviously know, our nation is in a crisis.” He leveled a stare at Jimmy before continuing. “I really don’t know what is going to happen, but it is a strong possibility our work will dry up. We have a few jobs on tap, and I expect you all to perform to the best of your abilities. I don’t want you dragging your feet. And I know you will all want to talk about yesterday, but remember the job comes first while you are here. Heck, I’d just as soon watch the coverage instead of work myself. Now, let’s get to work.”
They did as they were told, one of the guys trying to get through to Jimmy what had happened while they were walking to the work truck.
Steve and Greg kept a running conversation throughout the day; Bill wondered if they had taken Tom’s message to heart. He joined in occasionally, but tried hard to stay on task. This was especially difficult when another supermarket was bombed, this time in Arkansas. When Steve and Greg returned from lunch, they told him that the restaurant was pretty empty. Steve added scornfully that it didn’t make the food or service any better than normal. Bill left at his normal time, noting that he hadn’t heard the phone ring all day.
The septic tank manufacturer was very interested in the papers Bill showed him. As most of the new building developments had been required to hook up to city sewer systems, his business had declined markedly for years. Any opportunity for additional work was more than welcome. He assured Bill he would have sketches and prices ready at the same time the next day, and would also try to have installation costs from a backhoe operator he preferred to work with.
At home Bill poured off the cooked down lard and refilled the slow cookers. The hot lard was filtered through cheese cloth into sterilized Mason jars, and enclosed with lids straight out of nearly boiling water. After the jars cooled, Bill would check the seals, date the lids and put the jars in the pantry, the ones that were sealed anyway. He would do it each day until all of the fat had been processed into lard. After that he would work the beef fat, if it hadn’t gone rancid.
Once the lard was taken care of, Bill filled the water trays in the incubator and checked the temperature, then went to work on the greenhouse. The framing was in place when Brad called him in for supper. The kids were loaded with homework, so Bill took care of the goats and chickens instead of getting back to the greenhouse. He would have liked to get Amanda to milk and Brad to do the eggs, but oh well.
As he milked he thought of something else he should do. After the chores were done he told Amy he was going to talk to some neighbors. He did want to talk to all of the neighbors on his street, but at this time he had one specific neighbor in mind. Mrs. Woods raised and sold Bantam chickens. It seemed she always had a hen setting a clutch of eggs or raising chicks. Bill’s hens were dual purpose – larger hens that made a good meal as well as good but not great egg production. A couple of the Buff Orpingtons tended to go broody each summer, but, if things continued the way they were, he wanted more chick hatching, without using the incubator. As soon as one of Mrs. Woods’ bantams had weaned a batch of chicks, they laid a clutch of eggs and started right back in setting on the eggs for the next batch of chicks.
Bill stopped at Mrs. Woods’ gate and admired her yard. Only one small patch of lawn remained, with a round table on it with an umbrella and four chairs nestled under it. The rest of the lot had raised beds, a raspberry patch, and vegetable plants in every spot that was not occupied by the chicken pens. She raised more produce on the small lot that Bill got in his larger spread out garden. She would be a wonderful store of knowledge.
Once Bill let her know the main purpose of his visit, luckily, she had two pullets for sale. After making the deal, I can’t believe I paid that for two little chickens; they talked about what was happening. Mrs. Woods followed her church’s recommendation and always had a minimum of two years storage food on hand as well as the vast quantities she put up from her garden. He had to admire her efforts even more when she told him the number of quarts of tomatoes she processed from what had been the front yard.
Darkness was falling when Bill returned home. He put the two pullets in the chicken house and made a mental note to keep them all penned up for a few days. The pullets would most likely have to hide out in the chicken house during the day as the pecking order was impressed upon them.
“Amy, have you talked to your sister or brother?” Bill asked after he had gone into the house.
“I tried earlier, but couldn’t get through,” she answered. “I was thinking of trying again.” She took her phone, found Frances in the contacts and pressed “Call”. The call made it through this time and after assuring Amy she was fine, Bill asked to talk to her. Again he offered her a place in their home and tried to get her to leave Las Vegas, but she wouldn’t budge. Once Amy reached her brother, he was even more adamant about staying in California. They were conversations that would be repeated over the coming weeks.
The next day was more of the same; another supermarket bombed – in Wisconsin. Bill picked up the prices and plans for the root cellar that were ready as had been promised. No work would get done on the greenhouse since he had to do chores, eat supper and take Brad to scouts. Before the scout meeting, he showed the root cellar plans to Alan and his Dad. They both liked what they saw. The ever frugal Alan wasn’t sure about the price tag. He thought he could make one himself and save money, but the time frame promised nearly swayed him. Finally, he said if the price could be negotiated lower by getting three at the same time, he would go for it. Bill showed Amy the plans and prices for the root cellar, and where he wanted it to go. Surprisingly Amy’s response was “Let’s do it. When can they get started?” Wow, he thought, Sunday really rattled her. Bill spent his time at the scout meeting trying to plant more seeds with the parents to prepare for the worst.
Wednesday brought a firebombed supermarket in Oregon and another in Nebraska. Bill and Amy both made it to their doctor appointments. Despite Bills reasoning about the crumbling infrastructure, the doctor was hesitant to extend the prescriptions out for numerous years. At last she agreed to write the scripts for three years for Both Bill and Amy. When he went to the pharmacy, cash in hand, he was told how unusual the request was, and the insurance company wouldn’t cover it. The manager had to be called in, who called the doctor. After yet another wasted hour, Bill was told the prescriptions would be ready to pick up the following day.
Bill was able to get the root cellar price lowered and time frame nailed down. He was offered a further reduced price if his cellar could be shown to prospective buyers. He turned down the offer. He had no desire for strangers to be paraded around his home.
Amy took the kids to youth group, leaving Bill time to work on the greenhouse. He was able to get one end of the greenhouse complete before the lack of light caused him to stop for the night.
Thursday had firebombs in Texas, South Dakota and North Carolina. It seemed the terrorists were operating at will, that the authorities were helpless to stop them. Bill did see extra security at the entrances to the local grocery stores, and heard rumors of National Guardsmen being called upon.
He was able to forget it all at the cross country meet. It felt ‘normal’ after all of the craziness of the past week. Watching the kids line up and take off in a large pack brought more pleasure than ever before. mn Amanda and Brad both ran well. They weren’t champions, but Amanda had the best time for their school; Brad not far behind her had the best time of the boys from their school.
“I’ll get you next time,” Brad stated emphatically to his sister.
Not wanting the evening of normalcy to end, Bill left his car at the park and rode along to music lessons. I should go home and work, but I want some family time today. That’s been lacking lately. Amy pulled into a drive-in and let the kids order milk shakes. After the run, they could be grumpy and inattentive at the lesson if they didn’t get a calorie-laden snack.
Bill sat back on the bench at lessons, paying rapt attention. His mind occasionally drifted back to the greenhouse and root cellar and . . . . but he squashed the thoughts and focused on the music. All too soon Amy was dropping him off at his car, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Friday, Tom didn’t have enough work and sent everyone home at noon. Bill took full advantage of the extra time. He worked hard on the greenhouse, completing the expansion and setting up the planter boxes. One corner was left without planter boxes. He planned on adding a rocket stove there, with stove pipe buried in the ground between the planters. The rocket stove mass heaters he had studied had inspired him. Although not complete, one video he had found on YouTube resembled and inspired the project he wanted to complete.
He felt that heating the ground with a small fire each evening should keep the greenhouse warm enough for winter gardening when the sun didn’t reach the valley during winter inversions. The valley went through a number of the inversions each winter; a cold layer of air settled into the valleys with a warm air mass over it. The warm air held the cold air in place, as well as all of the car exhausts, chimney smoke and every other emission. The air would get very murky and unhealthy if the inversion lingered.
By the time the weekend was over, the beds were planted with seeds for his winter crop. The rocket stove mass heater was done and rain catchment was set up with a drip system run to the beds. The walkway between planter boxes was completed with large flat stones Bill had collected over the years and the gaps filled with sand. They were the final stage of the mass portion for the rocket stove mass heater. The stones were much better heat reservoirs than the dirt they covered. He was certain there were improvements to be made, but they would come in time. He was grateful that the family had helped get everything done.
Although the television was never tuned on over the weekend, the radio kept him up to date with news of daily store bombings, scattered throughout the country. All large sporting events had been canceled, not wanting the terrorists to have targets rich with victims. The terrorists had rocked America at its core.
Bob showed up Saturday with a pleasant surprise. He and Cal had gone to a potato farm in harvest and come back with a full pickup load. A sack was delivered to each family member’s home. The rest were being stored in Cal’s pump house until the root cellars were complete.
The following week, work was again scarce. Tom put everyone on half days, splitting them between morning and afternoon so they were covered in case some work shook loose. Bill worked the morning shift. Each day when he left work, he made a circuit of thrift stores and pawn shops generally located between home and work. He noted ironically that when the economy tanked, both pawn shops and thrift stores had become a growth industry. Not exactly the kind of economic growth all you guys promised on the campaign trail. The news still carried more stories of daily bombings. At one location, suspected bombers were shot and killed by armed shoppers. Even though they couldn’t be positively identified, they were known in the Muslim community.
Bill purchased more material from Craigslist ads. With the news of daily bombings, he was prompted to gear up material purchases. More candles and kerosene lamps were purchased. A trip was made to Harbor Freight where he purchased more solar chargers and some led lights and drivers and additional solar charged LED lights. He picked up two batteries from the nearly deserted golf cart shop.
Each day, Bill also made it a point to talk to one of his neighbors, slowly expanding out. Without revealing the preparations he had, he encouraged them all to get as prepared for further problems as possible. Most could see the logic in his talks, and he was sure a few might actually act.
The septic tank manufacturer came on Thursday, and starting at Bills, then proceeding to Cal’s, and finally Alan’s, had the three root cellars set up by late Friday. Bill breathed a sigh of relief when they left and hoped they would be putting in a lot more root cellars and forget about his and his family’s. The knowledge that the cellar was there was something he wished no one but family had. Bill didn’t stick around for all of it. He had to get away and watch the kids run. Brad came closer, but Amanda still beat him.
A number of cold frames were constructed and set up in the garden area. He used the remainder of his glass doors for tops. They were all planted with varieties he had found to be cold resistant. Cold frames had always been a challenge for him in the past, getting too hot while he was at work and not being vented early enough in the day. Ah, the benefits of working part time. After they were done, he began laying out the first hoop house.
The garden was nearing the end of production, but every day, Bill made a thorough search picking anything that was harvestable. When there was enough of something, he canned it; when not, he dehydrated. As much as possible was laid out on racks in the pickup, using solar heat as his drier.
With the temperature still unseasonably warm, he was picking the pole beans one afternoon in his shorts. He felt a sting on his leg and looked down to see if he was being bitten. It was just weed abrasions, so he gave it a quick rub and got back to picking, forgetting all about the scrape. He finished picking, snapped the beans and filled the electric dehydrator. Yes it takes electricity, but they will be done by morning. He completed the garden circuit, picking two cucumbers and zucchinis he had let grow to save seed from, cut them and laid the seed out to dry. The chickens were in a frenzy around the sections he tossed to them.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Jun 26, 2016 21:47:02 GMT
MORE!! WANT MORE!!!
|
|
|
Post by bretf on Jun 27, 2016 10:51:26 GMT
Chapter 15: The Flu
Wouldn’t you like to stay in bed all day Wouldn’t you like to stay at home And not go to school Lie around the house in your pajamas Well, it seems I’ve got good news for you. You’ve got the flu.
There’s a bug inside my body Living underneath my skin I don’t know how it got there I didn’t let it in Camping in my capillaries Surfing through my veins Trampolining in my stomach Messing with my brain
I’m sick to my stomach I’m tired and achy too (Sniff) (Achoo) The flu
I’m choking on warm chicken soup, I’m drowning in hot tea No one else who’s had the flu felt half as bad as me A million milligrams of medicine are sitting on the shelf But I feel so much better feeling sorry for myself.
“The Flu” Performed by John McCutcheon Written by John Mcutcheon
A need to use the toilet – right now! – pulled Bill from sleep an hour early. He went into the bathroom, his right leg aching like he had pulled a muscle, but only half noting it as he was overcome with shivering. Cold! I’m freezing. He got the electric heater set on high, and draped a bath towel across his shoulders as he settled on the toilet. The shivering got stronger, his whole body shaking violently before the warmth from the heater finally started to soak in. When he was finished, he flushed the toilet and dashed back to bed, shivering again before he made it under the covers. He snuggled tight to Amy, his shaking waking her.
“Bill, you’re freezing”, she said and got out of bed, and spread two more blankets over him, then crawled back in to share her body heat. Eventually he warmed enough to quit shivering and Amy left to make him a cup of hot tea. She checked the thermometer; the house had cooled down to 73 degrees overnight – not exactly shivering temperatures.
When she returned with the tea, she arranged pillows so Bill could sit part-way up. His arm was cold as it came from under the covers and shook as he tried unsuccessfully to grasp the cup without spilling any. He took a sip, slopping the hot contents down his front. “Do you think you would be more comfortable in the recliner?” Amy asked. “You could be more upright and might be able to drink there.”
“Yeah, I’ll try,” he said weakly and got out of bed and hobbled into the living room, dropping hard into the recliner, and pulling the nearby blanket over him. Amy dug in the linen closed and found the heat pad. She took it back to the recliner, plugged it in, set the control on high, and slid it under the blanket onto his shaking chest and abdomen. Then she added a stack of blankets over him. Once the shivering abated, he dozed off, waking to pans rattling in the kitchen.
“I don’t think I can make it to church today,” he said softly, and picked up the tea. It had cooled, but Amy had microwaved it recently to keep it warm for when he woke. “I think after I’ve done the milking, I’ll crawl back in here.”
“You just stay there. Amanda and Brad are already outside taking care of the animals. You’re going to stay there all day. You’ve been doing so much lately; you have to be exhausted, so today is a day of rest.”
Bill groaned, half from his aching body, and half from the idea of lying around wasting time. There was so much yet to do before winter and it galled him to skip a day. By the time the kids came inside, he was pulling off layers of blankets and removing the heat pad, a sheen of sweat all over his torso. Amanda came over to him and told him in a stern voice, “Now you just stay there. We’ve taken care of the goats and chickens, and fed the cats. You rest up.”
Amy offered him a plate of French toast and bacon, which he debated over before accepting a half slice of the toast and two slices of bacon. I’ve never been too sick for bacon. He nibbled at the toast, not eating it all, but finished off the bacon. While he was eating, Amy and the kids were at the table eating their own breakfast. “Do you think you will be alright if we go to church and leave you here? I’m supposed to teach today,” she said.
“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” he said, and reclined the chair all the way and fell asleep. He had a faint notion of Amy giving him Tylenol and telling him bye, but he couldn’t keep his thoughts straight. He drifted in and out of sleep the rest of the day, pulling up blankets or pushing them off as his body fought whatever was inside it. He had a little to eat at each meal, but had no appetite, just drinking lots of water and some chicken broth. At bedtime, he stayed on the recliner.
The next morning Bill’s fever was raging and it hurt to move when he got out of the chair. He managed to use the bathroom, but not much more. Amy called to let Tom know what was going on, and got his blessing for Bill to stay home and get better. She and the kids left, leaving him to sleep through a second day. By the time they all arrived home after school and work, his fever had abated. He had laid there and sweated so much he was getting pretty ripe. He stumble-walked to the bathroom to take a shower. It was while he was drying off that he saw his leg.
The lower leg had large patches of angry red skin that was hot to the touch. Red streaks were extending up his leg, disappearing at his groin. This is not good! “Amy, come in here,” he called. She came in and he pointed and said, “Look at this leg. What do ya think?”
She looked closely at the leg, over at the other for comparison, then back at the leg indicated. “I think that there is something really wrong with you,” she snapped. “How long has it been like that?”
“I’m not sure. This is the first time I’ve seen it since I took a shower Saturday. I’ve been stuck on the chair since then.”
She considered a few seconds about the past two days. The finally remembered something he had told her. “You said Sunday your leg hurt. Is it the same one, in the same place?”
Bill thought for a bit, the last couple of days being kind of hazy. “Yeah, I think that’s the places.”
She came to an immediate decision. “Okay, get some clothes on. I’m taking you to the Urgent Care and see what they can do.”
Bill put on sweats, a tee shirt and loose socks and shoes and started for the car while Amy gave the kids instructions on what needed done while they were out. On his way to the car, Bill found one of his walking sticks and used it as an aid as he got into the van.
The wait at the urgent care facility was short. Bill was taken to an examining room and had his vitals taken by a nurse and answered all the standard questions. He was soon seen by a physician’s assistant. He told the PA about picking the beans, and thinking he had a spider or insect bite while he was being examined. The PA listened intently and then told him, “You have what appears to be a bacterial infection in the leg. Technically we call it Cellulitis. There are different bacteria pretty much everywhere. All it takes is a slight skin opening for them to get in: be it an insect bite, scrapes from plants, a fingernail scratch. Pretty much any skin opening can let the bugs in.
The most common bacteria we see like this are staph and strep, but there are others and they are all very nasty. Left untreated, it is life threatening. You can see how it has affected in you in only two days.
“So for treatment, we are going to give you a shot of a strong antibiotic,” he thought for a while and named off the specific shot. “And I’m going to give you a prescription for an oral antibiotic. Take it three times a day. Start just before bed tonight. You need to lie around the rest of today and tomorrow, keeping your leg elevated.” Then he rattled off symptoms Bill was to watch for and if he had any of them he was to get right back in. With his head spinning from all of the information Bill responded he didn’t have any questions at the time although Amy had some. But all I did was scratch my leg in the garden. It’s not even a bad scratch. The PA left, telling Amy and a stunned Bill that the nurse would be in soon to administer the shot.
The nurse came in and had Bill drop his pants –that he had just put back on – for the shot. Wow, that hurts. She said that after they observed him for five more minutes to make sure there wasn’t an adverse reaction to the shot, he would be able to go home. As he and Amy waited, she stated the obvious, “So, I guess you didn’t have the flu this week.”
“No, it doesn’t appear that I did,” he said absently, shill shocked. But it was just a little scratch from a weed!
They left the facility, going to the next door pharmacy for the prescription to be filled. It would take about fifteen minutes, so Amy took Bill home with strict instructions to follow the PA’s orders and lay down with the leg elevated. This really bites! More time on my back when I’ve got so much to be doing. But he followed instructions, just taking time to fill his water cup, use the toilet, and pick up his newest library book before settling in.
The next day was the longest day Bill could ever remember. Outside, it was sunny with a slight breeze, the temperature in upper seventies and low eighties: perfect for doing more garden work and there he was on his back. It couldn’t have been windy and rainy. He stared out the window and pictured the garden in his mind; he saw the green beans hanging, the ripe tomatoes that needed taken care of. He gritted his teeth and groaned at the lost days.
He read his book. He played a little fiddle but that was awkward in his chair. He watched a little TV and wondered how on earth the couch potato crowd could do this every day. And he watched the clock; man it was moving slow. Late in the afternoon, he felt the leg tightening up, and getting out of his chair he was lightheaded. He walked to the bathroom with pain shooting up his leg at every movement. He dropped his pants and looked at his leg. The leg below the knee no longer had blotches of angry red skin; instead everything below the knee was red, the leg swollen much larger than normal, and the skin tight like a drum. The streaking up his upper leg that had diminished overnight had been replaced by a full patch of red on the inside of his thigh.
Bob answered his phone on the second ring, “Hi Bill, how’s the leg?”
“That’s what I was calling you about.” Bill then told Bob about the changes in his leg.
“Well, cellulitis has all different bacteria related to it; different strains react to different antibiotics. It sounds to me like the shot in the butt was the right stuff, but the pills aren’t doing anything, or aren’t powerful enough. Did they tell you some things to look for and if you showed any of those things to go back in, or did they say to ‘take two of these as long as you last?’”
That got a chuckle from Bill. “Yes they said what to watch for. I just wanted to get your thoughts before I went in.”
“You better go back in,” Bob said. “I’m pretty sure they’ll hit you with a wide array of antibiotics. When they aren’t sure which one is effective, they combine them. It’s like using a shotgun; throw enough lead in the air and some of it is bound to hit the bird.”
Oh boy. Do I wait for Amy to come home or just drive myself in? He tried walking around some and decided he could make the drive. She can’t be too mad if I’m just driving to the doctors can she? He took his stick, slipped his phone in his pocket and headed for his car. After pulling through the gate he really wanted to leave it open, but forced himself to get out and close it.
He was seen right away at the urgent care facility, before he had an opportunity to phone Amy and let her know what was happening. He was examined by a different person this time. The diagnosis was the same, but it was time to raise the level of treatment. The nurse drew blood to be cultured then delivered an intra-venous array of antibiotics. While he was in observation Bill made the call to Amy, keenly aware she wouldn’t be happy that he had driven himself. While she was irritated that he had driven, she accepted his reasoning, even though her work load would have allowed her to leave and taxi him. The oral antibiotic dosage was increased and a second antibiotic prescribed.
As his leg slowly healed Bill reflected on the timing of the infection and its implications. A simple scratch in the garden had laid him up for over a week, and if there hadn’t been the current medical care, it would have killed him. It was very sobering to think about. One simple scratch from a weed! Where he had always ignored all but the more serious cuts and puncture wounds, he resolved that any scratch would now get an alcohol prep wiped across it, and maybe another wipe with iodine. Better stop and buy a bunch more of them.
The city cross country championship meet was run. There was no postponement for one parent with a bad leg. Amy tried to talk Bill into skipping it, but he refused. He hobbled along, leaning heavily on his stick to the starting line, crossed the park to the half-way point, and then back to the finish. Amy watched him with concern the entire time. “You know, you can be very stubborn!” she told him.
“Really? It must run in the household,” he said with a cheesy grin.
It was worth it to him. When he saw Amanda approaching the finish, Brad was right beside her, matching her stride for stride. She tried to pull away from him down the final stretch but he stayed right with her. They crossed the finish line side by side. Bill did skip music lessons, electing to go home and elevate his leg.
*****
The eggs in the incubator were nearing the time to hatch, so from his “director’s chair”, Bill instructed the kids to remove the egg turner and the air plugs. Two days later they were rewarded by pipped eggs and over the next four days had thirty new chicks under the brooder. Of course they would have liked to have a hundred percent successful hatch, but the seventy five percent range was about what they usually achieved with the small incubator. As soon as the incubator could be cleaned, the egg turner was put back in and a new batch of eggs started to incubate.
While Bill was laid up, he decided to try a different tact with Amy’s siblings. He found a list of contents for a bug out bag online, copied it and emailed it to each of them and followed up with a phone call. Amy’s brother didn’t even answer the call, letting Bill’s message go to Voice mail. The voice mail would turn out to be the last time Bill ever heard his brother-in-law’s voice, since he had blocked both Bill and Amy’s lines.
The Basics: backpack, ultra-light sleeping bag Clothing: Running/walking shoes, socks, underwear, stout pants, tee shirt, fleece jacket, waterproof jacket. Hygiene Kit: soap, shampoo, toothpaste, toothbrush, floss, nail clippers Food Pack: energy bars, foil pouches of fish, dried fruit, nuts, jerky, instant soup, tea bags Supplies: candle, matches, water purification tabs, knife sharpener, spare batteries, all-purpose stainless cup, whistle, fishing kit, lighter, aluminum foil, fire starter, rope, spoon, work gloves, space blanket, chemical hand warmer, large black trash bag, Ziploc bags, duct tape, flashlight, bandanna, towel, binoculars, toilet paper, can of Sterno, can opener, repair kit, tarp, maps, compass, solar/ battery tri band radio, FRS radio, water bottle, first aid kit
Bill argued, pleaded, insisted, and just discussed everything that was going on before he convinced Frances that having a packed bag would be a good idea. He also got her to agree to find maps and mark out different routes to his and Amy’s home and have them laminated. The last concession he got was to have the car filled with gas and a number of spare cans on hand. “You know I’m going to keep bugging you until you send me photos right? I want to see everything laid out, then packed in your trunk, and the full gas cans by your car.”
“If you promise to quit hounding me, I’ll do it tomorrow”, she answered. “It’s my day off, so I’ll take care of it all then.” As it turned out, she was glad to have a day off work to accumulate the items on the list. Many of the items had become scarce since the bombings had begun. It appeared Bill wasn’t the only one out there who thought things were falling apart. It gave Frances pause to contemplate that, then decided to watch even closer for signs she needed to leave Vegas. That evening, she emailed Bill the photos and the scanned image of the map with highlights and requested his input on the routes.
The terrorists were not idle while Bill was. They continued to destroy grocery stores at will, although the FBI claimed to have apprehended or killed the members of cells in six different states. While the bombings continued, other commerce was slowing down, food shortages were popping up and the economy made lurching motions as it was dying.
When his leg healed enough, Bill continued harvesting the garden, dehydrating and canning the vegetables, and collecting and drying seeds. He made large stock pots of vegetable soup; whatever was ripe at that time was mixed into it, and then canned into quart jars. Everything was done slower and more deliberate now. He no longer wore shorts into the garden or the chicken house. His shirt or pants pocket always contained alcohol and iodine swabs. The hoop house was put on ignore while he constructed smaller hoop frames over the tomatoes, cucumbers, zucchinis and beans. He didn’t know if it would pay off, but he would never know unless he tried.
|
|
|
Post by bretf on Jun 27, 2016 10:53:29 GMT
Chapter 16: Meet me in McCall Thought I heard your voice Out on the oak brush rim Cold rush upon my face But it was just the wind And a bugle down the draw From somewhere in the pines Like twenty years ago Branded on my mind
And I wish I could disappear Every now and then Not a day goes by that I don't wish you were here So I could tell you once again
To meet me in McCall And make it early fall Bring a good horse and a rifle and that's all We'll ride the golden aspen trail 'Neath timber dark and tall So meet me in McCall In the early fall Meet me in McCall
“Meet me in McCall” Performed by Brenn Hill Written by Brenn Hill Bob walked down the driveway to where Bill was assembling PVC hoops over his tomato vines. He stood and watched Bill bend a section of the plastic pipe down and slide the end over a stake he had driven into the ground. “I don’t think you’re going to run water through that pipe that way, so it must be tomato vine supports. It’s kind of late in the season for that isn’t it? Besides that I think they’re too high to do much good.” “Too late in the season, what are you talking about? I’ve seen so many news reports about global warming; they convinced me we won’t even have a winter this year. Even if it does freeze, we should get at least another two or three months of good weather and the plants will grow a couple of feet in that time.” The temperature had been in the mid- thirties that morning when Bill milked the goat. Some leaves already showed slight cold damage. He put the end of a straight pipe on the next stake and walked to the other side of the plants. He reached across the thick plants and hooked the pipe with a hoe and pulled it towards him, making it bow. “You know those guys with those predictions are never wrong. Just like the president when I saw him on the news the other night. After he told us not to worry, that things were being brought under control, why I can’t remember when I’ve felt so warm and fuzzy after watching the news.” Bob had draped covers over his own tomato plants the night before, concerned it might frost. After Bill had secured the second end of the hoop and stood back up so Bob could see him, Bob said, “Right, all warm and fuzzy. So what you doing Tuesday?” he asked. “I don’t know, figured to go to work if we have any, and then tinker around here.” “You better look at your calendar. My elk hunt starts on Tuesday, then yours two weeks after that.” “Really?” Bill asked. He had been so wrapped up on the bombings, preps and then his infected leg, he hadn’t considered elk hunting. He and Bob had both drawn on controlled hunts for antlerless elk for the fall. Even though they didn’t actively hunt during the other’s season, they always went together for safety. “Yep. Tuesday morning. I’ve been seeing lots of tracks in the aspen grove above the cabin and yesterday when I was up there, a bull was bugling above the old garden, another near where the beaver dam was and one at the aspens. I’d guess that one was the herd bull. It sure was good music. I pulled the card from my game camera at the aspens and downloaded it. There were a lot of shots of elk on it. They’ve been spending the nights there and leave about 10:00. Give Tom a call and see if you can skip work. We can take your goats, and you and them can work towards the aspens as fast as your gimped up leg will go quietly, about a half hour behind me.” Sometimes Bill thought the camera was cheating; it sure helped the odds on the hunt knowing where and when the elk were around. “That sounds good. Why don’t you give me a hand with the goats now. I haven’t had the packs on them for quite a while and it will be easier to adjust them here.” Bill led the way to the shed and handed down the two saw-buck pack saddles he used, and then got out the saddle blankets and packs. Bob was directed where to drop the saddles and took the rest of the gear from Bill, while Bill got a feed box with a scoop of grain in it and two leashes. They went to the pasture and leashed Rand and Perrin, and got them through the gate, working hard to keep the other goats in the pasture. The left-behind goats quickly began a chorus letting everyone within hearing know how they were being discriminated against. The jersey heifer stood disinterested in the center of the pasture to Bill’s relief. The two pack goat’s leashes were tied to the fence above the grain and Bob and Bill each laid a blanket on the respective goat, followed by the saw buck. Bob had Rand, long and lean like his namesake from the “Circle of Time” book series; the straps were still adjusted properly. Perrin, on the other hand, had filled out more, requiring the saddle straps to be lengthened. The cheap daypacks were strapped on then covered with red towels and secured with bungee cords. They rarely saw other hunters near the cabin, but Bill tried not to take chances with some knucklehead mistaking the goats for a game animal. Everything looked good, so they put gallon jugs of water in each pack and led the goats down the driveway and out the gate. The goats acted like they had been packing every day and took the entire activity in stride. They were led back to the fence and secured and the loads removed. After giving them each a quick brushing, Bill put another handful of grain in the box and put it in the back of the pickup. The goats had eagerly followed his actions and once the leashes were released, trotted to the pickup and jumped right in. “They might not carry what we used to on the mules, but that was sure easy wasn’t it? And when they step on your foot, it doesn’t hurt near as much,” Bill said. Bob readily agreed. They had packed numerous elk out of the mountains on mules, most of them memorable for all of the problems. The time the mule barrel rolled down a steep draw with a half elk was especially etched in their memories. Bob also had less than fond memories of being kicked and his entire thigh turning black before the day was out. Once they had finished their treat the goats were returned to the pasture, the others acting like they had been separated for days. Bill had Bob put all of the pack gear, minus the jugs of water in the back of the pickup for easy access and closed the shell. While that was being done, Bill called Tom and to no surprise was given the day off. ***** The mornings had been noticeably cooler when Bill went out to milk. The morning he was leaving to hunt with Bob, there was a coat of frost on the pickup windshield. Glad I got the hoops done and covered. I wonder how long it will keep the plants going. There were usually a number of frosts and a temperate Indian summer before the killing freezes hit. After chores, Bill put all of the pack equipment, the grain box and two sour-cream containers of grain in the wheel barrow, added his hunting pack, framed back pack and rifle and rolled the load near the road. He had leashed the goats and was fighting to get them through the gate without the other goats when Bob pulled up. He managed to get the two goats out without any escapees – they sure wanted to go to wherever Rand and Perrin were going – there might be food! With the gear and goats loaded and the wheel barrow put away, the brothers got in the pickup and started for the cabin. It was usually an hour drive and Bob had planned on getting there just before shooting light, so he could work his way slowly up the trail. Bob started quietly for the trail at the edge of the timber, frost heavy on the grass in the meadow, his breath showing in small puffs of mist as he walked. Bill got the goats out, tied them near a brush pile and saddled them. Once everything was secured, he checked for stability and noise, then shouldered his pack, picked up his rifle and released the goats, putting their leashes in his jacket pocket. He called to them and they kept eating until he was twenty feet away, then they quickly caught up. They would follow like that wherever he led, stopping and grabbing bites on the way, then hurrying to catch up. The sky was lightening as Bill reached the timber beyond the cabin meadow. He had just entered the dark shadows when a rifle fired on the hillside above him. Already very alert, his senses raised even more as he watched for movement and sound. So far, his leg was doing fine moving at the slow pace. The FRS radio in his pocket crackled to life and Bob said “Bill, are you there? I got a big cow. She’s down right in the meadow by the aspens. I’ll give it a few more minutes before I go over. Are you coming?” “Yeah, I just got out of the meadow. But I think I’ll go back to the pickup. I’ll change my hunting pack for the big pack and just bring up what we need to work with. Do you need anything else?” “No, I’ve got my knife and steel. I just need you with a strong back. Hope your goats are feeling strong too. She’s a nice big cow.” “Okay, I’ll be up there in a bit. You know having the camera and knowing right where they would be is cheating.” “Tell me about cheating while you are eating.” The radios were quiet after that and Bill changed out his pack then started back up the trail. When he arrived at the aspens, he whistled, and listened to Bob’s return whistle to pinpoint his location. Once he got to Bob, he took the bags off the goat saddles, but left the saddles on and re-secured the red towels over the pack saddles. They sniffed briefly at the dead elk, then went to a nearby bush and started stripping leaves and bark. “You know,” Bob said, “This would be easier if Alan was here. It’s pretty rude of him to work when we have an elk needing his attention.” Bill laughed at the statement while he looked at what Bob had already accomplished. Bob had a back leg nearly skinned and continued to work while Bill took a new blue tarp out of one of the packs and spread it out in the shade, weighting the corners with rocks. When Bob had exposed a large enough area he cut the large muscles free of the bone and laid the large pieces of meat out on the tarp to begin cooling. It was still cool enough the flies and yellow jackets were not bothering them yet, but Bill was sure it wouldn’t take long. Bill began on the front leg. They would skin the raised side cleanly, taking off the muscle groups when they were exposed. Once they had done what they could from one side, they would pull the skin out and roll the carcass over onto it, then do the same with the other side. With the majority of the meat pulled off and cooling and most of the obstructions out of the way, Bob would then remove the guts and they would both go to work on fine boning. They were very thorough, though not quite as thorough as Alan. They often accused him of working twenty minutes for one burger patty. When they were packing elk out, they only carried meat, and left all of the bones for the bears and coyotes. While they worked, Bill asked, “So how much pressure do you think the game up here will get if things fall apart?” Bob mulled it over while he removed the back leg bones and tossed them aside. “Well, you know there are a lot of Rambo wannabes out there that think they can live off the land. Personally I think they are idiots. Look how hard it is to climb these hills quietly. I think the people that already live in the country will hit the game hard, but by the time the town people finally wake up and figure out they are in trouble, most of them won’t have the fuel to get here. The number of hunters we have seen over the years attest to that in my mind. This area is ignored while people go past below on the highway and the hunters that go right by above us on the Forest Service roads. That’s not to say there won’t be pressure. I’m sure the game will take a hit but not hard. On the other hand, what happens if the yahoos wipe out the wolves’ food in other areas? Then the wolves will come here in force. We’ve been pretty lucky so far that only a few wolves hunt here. Either way, there will be a hit. Maybe we can get a few wolf pelts and not take an elk unless we really need it.” Bill figured Bob’s thoughts were pretty accurate. He had only seen four other hunters in fifteen years of hunting the area. He hoped it remained a skipped over spot. “Well, with all of the meat we have now, I’m not going to hunt for my elk. Let’s leave her to raise another calf next year. We might need her more then.” “Sounds good,” Bob answered. “We can definitely pass on another one this time. My freezer is already full. I think I’ll let you help me try canning my portion of this one.” “We can do that, and I think we’ll can mine too. Although Amy doesn’t really care for it canned, I think it’s great with some brown gravy on bread. I’ll make a bunch of stew and chili and can that too. There’s nothing like having a jar with the meal ready to just heat and serve.” “Maybe we should just spend a day and can all of it. I sure use a lot of mine for stew. And the brown gravy on it sounds good too,” Bob replied. With all of the meat laid out on the tarp, they shooed the few flies off that were out in the cool morning. A few yellow jackets had come to the fresh meat. They would cut a small bite of meat off and fly off to their nest. The brothers loaded the meat into bags before putting it into the packs. Bill had a fishing scale that they used when they filled the four goat packs with twenty pounds each. That left about forty pounds each for Bob and Bill. They split the remainder between their back packs, loaded the goats, shouldered their own packs and started back down the trail. The goats contentedly fell in behind Bill walking easily under the load. Loaded, they tended to trail closer to Bill, but still couldn’t resist taking bites of the tempting leaves along the trail. The table at the cabin was in the morning sun, so they moved it under a large ponderosa pine tree and the bagged meat was laid out on it. The temperature in the shade was hovering around forty, so the meat would continue to cool off. The early October hunt was always interesting for having meat down. One year they had to take care of an elk at eighty degrees, another year they tromped through six inches of unseasonably early snow. They spread the meat as much as possible to allow the air to circulate around it and covered the whole pile with a sheet to keep the flies off. The goats had gone straight to the brush pile to begin pulling off leaves as soon as their packs were removed. While they laid the meat out, Bob said, “Not too bad, boned out by noon. Are you in a hurry to get home or can we work in the garden for a while?” “No, I’m free all day. Let’s pull the saddles off the goats and I’ll give them some grain in the pickup so they will be used to having a reward after working. I’ve fed them for a full year and they earned their keep for today at least. Is there anything in the garden we can have for lunch?” “I brought a big sandwich but maybe we can find something to put on it. It looks like it froze good up here the last few nights. That’s about one week before last year. Remember how warm it was the first day we hunted?” Bill could remember taking off his jacket and long sleeved shirt and walking in a tee shirt. He had been relieved they hadn’t gotten an elk that day. After the goats were cared for, Bill and Bob cleaned themselves up in the cold spring water. They went to the garden to see what had survived the freeze. The goats looked up as Bill walked away, and then trotted to catch up. Once they realized he wasn’t going any further, they went to a nearby thorn bush where they could eat while keeping a watchful eye on their boss. The electric fence had been effective at keeping animals out of the garden. Most everything was frozen but they found a few tomatoes and cucumbers to slice with their sandwiches. Bob had already pulled the onions and taken them home, but he had left a few in the cabin, so they added thick slices to their sandwich. By the time they were eating, Bill stated they had “Dagwood Sandwiches”; he had trouble opening his mouth wide enough to take a bite. They placed their chairs in the sun and were enjoying the direct heat after the cool air of the shade. They spent the afternoon digging potatoes. The ground was very hard with a liberal amount of clay mixed in. The spuds grew well, but it was tough work to get them out. “Did I tell you how I did my potatoes this year?” Bill asked as he straightened his aching back. “Probably but I don’t remember. What did you do?” “Last fall, the day we had the scouts on the yard raking service project, I took my pickup and filled the entire back with the leaves. When I got them home I put them all on one area, about a foot deep and kept the chickens out of that section all winter. In the spring I planted that area with potatoes. For each hill, I moved the leaves aside and dug into the dirt just enough to bury the seed potato. I covered them with dirt and replaced the leaves. I put the spuds about eighteen inches apart. They did great. I got the biggest and most spuds I’ve ever grown”. Bill held up the largest potato from the hill he was digging. “It would take four or five of this one to be the size of my big ones. And they were real easy to dig, not like this modified concrete you grow in. They grew mostly into the leaves. The heavy leaf mulch also kept the weeds to a minimum, and you know how well I grow weeds in my garden. I’ll definitely use that method again.” They continued their work, chatting until the potatoes were all dug. They put them in gunny sacks and put them in the generator shed. With the water flowing through to run the small generator, the temperature stayed cool and the humidity high. Potatoes stored very well there. Bob had even brought up a few sacks from the recent purchase he and Cal had made. “So what about the carrots, do you want to dig them?” Bill asked. “How did you say you store yours?” “Well, if I keep the chickens away, I leave them in the garden and put about a foot of leaves over them and then I can dig them all winter as I need them. If I put the chickens in the garden, well, I can’t keep the leaves in place. Then I dig the carrots. I take a box and put a layer of damp sawdust, then a layer of carrots and more damp sawdust and keep layering like that until I’ve got them all in. When I put the carrots in, I set them so they won’t touch each other. That way, if one rots, it doesn’t spread to the rest. I cover the top with a damp gunny sack. I have to re-wet the sack over the winter a few times but that keeps them nice and crisp. I do the same with the parsnips.” Bill noticed Bob’s grimace. Bob didn’t like parsnips and always wondered why his brother wasted garden space for them. “The beets too. With the humidity in your generator shed, maybe you wouldn’t need to do that. I’m just not sure. We could check in my root cellar book when we get home.” “Well, if we’re going to turn that elk into stew, we’ll need those carrots tomorrow. Let’s get them all out of the ground and see what we have. If it looks like there are extra we can do the sawdust pack. We have some sawdust where we cut up the firewood.” The long shadows had begun to spread across the garden as they worked, and the temperature that had crept into the sixties was dropping quickly. That was a big difference from the cabin and the valley. At home, evening was long lasting with the temperature dropping off slowly. The goats, meat, carrots and all the gear were loaded up and they headed for home. As they drove towards the highway, Bill pointed and said “Hey, look over there.” Across the valley a sow bear was making her shuffling way up towards the ridgeline, two coal-black cubs walking and running along with her. “Maybe they can fill up on fresh elk guts and bones tonight,” Bob said. On the drive home, Bob inquired about Bill’s canning. Bill had the “Ball Blue Book” and also had a binder he had printed from the internet. His top online resource was the University of Georgia: National Center for Home Food Preservation. nchfp.uga.edu/“I don’t remember the specifics off the top of my head, but I like to use wide mouth jars. I cut the meat into strips that would fit the jar, and slice it. I brown the slices in the frying pan, and then stack them into the jars. While I’m doing the browning, I have some beef broth heating in a large sauce pan, and pour it over the meat. If you want elk broth, you’ll have to hike back up and get the bones before your bears and coyotes get them.” “No, that’s okay. I can suffer with beef broth. What do you do then?” Bob asked. “I’ll have to check about headspace. But anyway, fill the jars leaving the headspace they say in the literature. Fill them past that and your jars won’t seal. Then I heat lids and put them on like any other canning and fill the canner. My big canner, I’ve stacked pints to do twice as many jars at a time. I do burger pretty much the same; brown it, add broth, and can. Processing time is pretty long for meat, but if we get all of my pressure canners and Alan’s, we can have some ready to start heating while others are cooling down. Unlike water bath canning, you have to leave these canners sealed up until the pressure has dropped back off. “For stew and chili, I put everything together in a stock pot and cook it partway while I get the flavor right. Then I put it in jars and can it. I look through the book on canning times, pick whatever in the jar has the longest processing time, and can it that long. If I remember right, it’s always the meat time.” The radio brought them back to the real world after their hard but enjoyable day. The terrorists had hit four more stores, and the FBI thought they had apprehended the members of one cell. Wow, four to one for the bad guys. It had been so peaceful on the mountain. As they drove and listened, they discussed their plans for processing the meat the following afternoon.
|
|
|
Post by bretf on Jun 27, 2016 10:56:54 GMT
Chapter 17: Halloween
This is Halloween, this is Halloween Pumpkins scream in the dead of night This is Halloween, everybody make a scene Trick or treat till the neighbors gonna die of fright It's our town, everybody scream In this town of Halloween
I am the one hiding under your bed Teeth ground sharp and eyes glowing red I am the one hiding under your stairs Fingers like snakes and spiders in my hair
In this town, don't we love it now? Everybody's waiting for the next surprise Round that corner, man hiding in the trash can Something's waiting now to pounce, and how you'll scream
Scream! This is Halloween Red 'n' black, slimy green Aren't you scared?
“Halloween” Performed by the Citizens of Halloween from “Nightmare before Christmas” Written By Danny Elfman
As October progressed, Bill’s paying work continued to diminish with the rest of the economy, but he filled the time with projects at home. Security was tight at the local chain stores, but they were unable to prevent a Wal-Mart Superstore from being firebombed. Bill pushed hard on getting the first hoop house up and planted. The daylight needed for growing plants was rapidly diminishing; the season changes quickly approaching the ten hours of light per day threshold that plants needed that hit his latitude around November 7th. He augmented the greenhouse with solar charged LED lights but had no idea how effective they would be. Inwardly he doubted the effectiveness, but, oh well. Once it was completed, the hoop house was planted in peas, spinach and Swiss chard. Previous winter gardening in the greenhouse had shown him that when he planted those plants too late for a fall-winter harvest, they gave him a very early harvest in spring. The plants got started in the fall, appeared to die, then grew rapidly with the first warming of spring. He covered all of the rows with floating row crop cover for added protection. The spot where the second hoop house would be set up was planted with a green manure crop.
The remainder of the firewood was split and stacked in the wood shed. He had made it a priority to go into each winter with two winter’s worth of wood. There was no way of knowing when something would disrupt his summer, preventing wood cutting.
The garden still produced beneath the hoops he had set up, but was greatly reduced. The flavor also left something to be desired, at least when compared to the full flavor of the vegetables harvested in the height of summer, but they were still better than anything sold at stores. The greenhouse had also begun to produce fresh greens and radishes that were full of flavor.
Cal, with a lot of help from Bob, had made great strides on building the wood gasifier units. They had one operational on the GMC pickup and had fine-tuned it and made design tweaks for future units. They had three more units nearing completion, but it was going slower now. Cal could not restrain himself from driving around and showing off his wood powered pickup to anyone who would listen. He also made sure to grumble at Bill for not giving him the information years ago. The big test came on a Saturday when Bob and Cal were in the wood fired pickup while Bill and Alan followed in Bill’s pickup, and they made a trip to the cabin. The gasifier performed as billed and made the drive easily. While at the cabin, they spent the day winterizing it: they drained all static water lines, put anti-freeze in the toilet, pulled the fresh water line from the spring, and placed the snow boards along the walls. Without the thick plywood keeping the snow off the walls, the snow weight, once it slid from the roof, would break windows. For the drive home, they loaded each pickup with firewood. During the summer, they had cut up some winter killed trees and left the wood on the bare, arid hillside above the cabin to dry.
With all of the pride Cal had in his new wood fired pickup, it didn’t stop him from stocking up on fuel. His fuel tanks that had been empty since he had quit actively farming were cleaned and filled, one with diesel, the other with gasoline, both with stabilizer added.
Bill’s root cellar was starting to look like a root cellar instead of a concrete tomb. He had put in permanent steps leading down to the cellar. A heavily insulated door was hung and a cover added over the entrance and steps to help prevent snow build up and rain falling into the entrance area. He had put in shelves and covered the floor with wood slats. He ran lights, both standard 120 volt and also a set of 12 volt LEDs. Potatoes were in one area, filling burlap bags. Near them were boxes with other root vegetables from the garden: carrots, parsnips, beets and a box of kohlrabi, all packed in damp sawdust. The winter squash had all been harvested and were laid out in a manner that he could monitor them for spoilage. He had moved some items from the shop pantry that should be able to withstand the higher humidity in the cellar.
The honey had been taken from the bee hives, extracted, filtered and put in Mason jars. The ventilation holes were opened in the hives, mouse guards and wind breaks put in place for winter. Upon inspection he hadn’t verified the presence of varoa mites, so he was pretty sure the bees would go into the winter healthy. He did however make sure he had treatment on hand if he detected mites in the spring.
One afternoon, Bill had driven to an area in the valley where fruit was grown. He purchased bushels of apples for everyone in the family. Recalling from his root cellar book not to store apples and potatoes together, he put his boxes of apples in the newly cleared space in the shop pantry.
As he was working at the sink peeling apples to can for pie filling, he looked out at his own trees, irritated that bores were killing the peach trees. After they had started to fall off, he had found information on organic protection for stone fruit trees. An article he had read said planting chives around the base of the tree was a deterrent. He had started a number of new trees that would produce in another year or two, if he could keep them free of the bores. They were each circled with two rings of chives and so far didn’t show signs of damage. The pear trees were doing all right but a spring freeze had wiped out his crop before it had a chance to produce. There were pear trees at Bob’s cabin, but they had also suffered from a spring freeze when they were in full bloom.
The plums had done better than anything else, but they had attracted birds and wasps that had greatly diminished what he could pick. He had however gotten two full dehydrator loads taken care of.
The grapes had done exceedingly well in the hot summer. Picking some clumps that still clung well to the stems, he hung them on racks in the root cellar. They would keep the family in fresh grapes for a time. Many had been picked, washed and laid out on wire racks and covered with cheesecloth in the sun. Each evening he set them in his shop and always watched intently for rain before setting them back outside each day. I wish I had gotten to that solar dehydrator, but add it to the list. Yet more grapes were juiced and canned.
The raspberry patch had been cleaned of all the dead canes. The remaining canes that had grown new that spring were beginning to produce. They would continue until the cold stopped them. They could withstand frosts, but a hard freeze would stop their production. Although not quite as big as the spring grown berries, they were still very good. Bill filled more Mason jars with raspberry jam and dehydrated more of them for additions to cereal and baking. As he made the jam, he noticed his on hand pectin supply was dwindling. He bought out everything that remained on the shelf in two stores. He also made sure he had a printed copy of how to make pectin from apples in his canning book.
The small parcel of field corn had been harvested and shucked, the ears laid out in the shop to dry further. The stalks were standing near the goat pasture to be fed a few at a time. The mangles were dug and in wooden crates in the root cellar. The best were packed in damp sawdust and covered with burlap in hopes he could replant them and get a seed crop from them the following year. A few had been left in the ground, circled with a wire fence and packed with insulating leaves. Maybe one way or the other I can get some to make seed.
One afternoon school was let out early for teacher training. Bill spent the afternoon with the kids in one of his favorite fall activities; something he had done and enjoyed immensely during his own youth. He and the kids put on their irrigator boots, gathered their fishing nets and a five gallon bucket and walked to the nearby irrigation canal. Bill had monitored it daily since the water board had stopped the irrigation flow. The water came from the Boise River and had the potential for carrying game fish. The water had dwindled to just scattered pools. They walked from pool to pool, fanning out across the pools, chasing any remaining fish ahead of them. Once the fish were in a small area, they could be scooped out with the nets. Quite often the fish would get past them, creating a wild dash and run; water splashing amidst much shared laughter. Hours later they trudged home, their pants and socks soaked, the bucket close to full of trout and white fish. The sun was nearly gone and the air was chill on their wet bodies but they were all happy. Brad and Amanda kept reliving the chase for a particularly elusive trout that was large enough to feed the entire family. The pools would be gone in a matter of days; any remaining fish would become raccoon food. After the fish were cleaned, Bill and the kids took them around to share with the rest of the family members on the street.
Buoyed by his success in growing potatoes in leaves, Bill increased his efforts to get even more leaves. On the day of the scouts participating in rake-up, he not only filled his pickup with leaves, but also loaded his Dad’s flatbed trailer. The church youth group raked yards the following week and he was able to take home all of the treasure from that day’s effort too. One yard was full of leaves from walnut trees. Learning from a bad experience that Walnut leaves contain Juglone, a chemical that is toxic to most plants, he kept those leaves separate. Once he got them home, he spread them out in a thick layer along a fence row where he was having trouble with quack grass invading from the neighbors. Maybe these will slow that stuff down. Many days would find him stopping along the street and picking up bags of leaves that were set out for garbage collection. Some of the leaves were placed in a woven wire fence circle with alternating layers of chicken and goat manure to compost, while others were spread in heavy layers over what open spaces remained in the garden.
A local fabrication shop made stove pipe and fittings for chimneys. One day, Bill purchased a pickup full of various parts and additional flat sheet metal. As he had talked to the neighbors about what else could possibly happen and their level of preparing for hard times, he found that many would be facing a cold winter if there was a power disruption. Although he didn’t necessarily want to outfit the neighborhood, he also didn’t want them burning their houses down to keep warm. If it came down to it, he wanted to be able to help out as many people as he could. That and keep as many good people around as possible if things got bad. He looked at his shrinking bank account as his supplies piled up and was thankful he had made the decision to close the IRA.
As Bill had aged, he needed to wear reading glasses. He claimed it wasn’t age; it was “staring at the computer screen all day”. A local dollar store had two racks full of readers. Bill stopped in one day and left with a bag full of glasses. How on earth can they sell these for a buck? The power started at 1.5 for his regular reading, up to 3.5 for fine work in the shop. He purchased every pair of glasses in that range that fit his head and didn’t fall off when he bent over.
The second batch of chicks came out of the incubator – thirty two of the forty one eggs. He was very pleased with the success. The chicks were put under the brooder with the earlier hatch. After cleaning the incubator, he debated starting another batch of eggs. In the end, he decided against it. By the time they hatched winter weather would have arrived and he didn’t want to deal with baby chicks in the cold. He could start again in spring. As it was, he thought he might be pushing the envelope by having a new hatch this late. At the local hatchery, he purchased a large stock of leg bands in green and red. He had been toying with the idea for some time of using the bands to keep track of the chickens age. All chickens hatched this year would get a red band on the right leg. Next year, he would go with green bands on the right leg, and would change the band or leg each year. It would take a lot of the guess work out when the time came to cull the old hens.
The beef tallow candles had been made and stored. Bill had cooked down the beef suet the same as he did the lard, then mixed it in a thrift store sauce pan with paraffin wax. He had read about different things that were mixed with the tallow, but not having any of them on hand, or the desire to find them, he just used the paraffin. His molds were cleaned individual yogurt cups with cotton strings suspended in the center. He poured the liquid into the cups, and then popped them apart once they had hardened. The whole bunch was packed into a box, labeled and shelved. The one he tested worked alright, but he sure preferred his electric lights.
A small supply of winter clothing was showing up at stores. Bill got the kids sizes figured out and bought stacks of long johns that would fit now and many years to come, as well as a few new pairs to fit both him and Amy. He filled a box with new wool caps and winter gloves in a range of sizes. He also loaded up on work gloves. Insulated winter boots were slow to come to retail stores, but he found a variety of sizes at thrift stores.
The calls with Frances continued daily. She was getting more concerned about the living situation in Las Vegas. Despite the heavy police presence, areas of the city were quickly disintegrating into lawlessness. While assembling her bug out bag, Frances had made contact with a group that believed chaos was going to erupt. The longer she talked with one man, she became convinced that Bill’s ideas weren’t as far out there as she had thought. The group was getting out on Halloween morning. With newly opened eyes, Frances had seen enough and decided she would follow their lead. Halloween would be her final day in Vegas, making the drive the next day.
She had talked with her brother and shared her plans and pleaded with him to get out of southern California. He countered that she had been brainwashed by “your sister’s Idaho redneck nutcase husband”. The government would soon get everything under control and they could all resume life as before. In fact, the president just addressed the country and confirmed that the situation would soon be well in hand. Besides, he and his wife had taken the redneck’s advice and stocked up; they had purchased two cases of wine. He added Frances’ number to his blocked list.
*****
The pumpkins were set up on the picnic table; Brad and Amanda, and Amanda’s friend Mandy were drawing their designs on them prior to carving. “Have you guys decided what you want to be this year?” Amy asked.
“Mom, I think I’m too old for trick-or-treating,” Amanda responded. She had been acting more mature after entering her final year of middle school. She had also started looking at boys in a new light, which didn’t exactly fill her dad with joy. “I mean, I like carving my pumpkin and all, but asking for candy, that’s like a kid activity, you know. Mandy and I were talking, like maybe we could walk with Brad and wait behind him, but not actually trick or treat.” Mandy was in Amanda’s class at school and they were spending more and more time together. It was becoming rare to see one girl without the other.
Amy smiled at the suggestion. Yes, the girls could still go along without looking childish, but would be sure to accept any treats that were offered. “I think that’s a great idea,” she said. “And you’ll be able to dress warm without messing up a costume.” It was always a challenge matching the costume with the weather. Many years, the best costumes were covered up by heavy coats. Amanda continued with her pumpkin. She was going with a full moon over a creepy tree silhouette this year. Mandy was drawing a witch flying on a broom. Brad was carving the shape of an owl, to compliment the Harry Potter outfit he would be wearing. The large black robe would cover whatever coat he would have to wear.
The pumpkins insides had all been scooped out and placed in a bowl; Bill was going through the slimy mass, sorting all of the full seeds onto a cookie sheet. After he rinsed them, he would sprinkle them heavily with garlic salt and toast them in a skillet on the wood stove.
When the carving was complete, Amanda asked if there were candles. Bill said he might be able to find one or two. He had her open the front door and he went to the sink and washed the pumpkin off his hands. Then he led her to his shop. He took down a box from a shelf that was full of new bags of tea candles. “Wow Dad, you like might be able to find a couple, huh? There must be like a thousand in there.”
“Well, pretty close. I wanted to have them if we lose the power. Let’s go put them in the pumpkins and get them in a dark place and see how they look.”
The pumpkins were illuminated and the kids did a little fine carving to finish them. They were all lined out on the picnic table in the front yard and Amy presented the kids with mugs of hot chocolate and sliced apples with a bowl of dipping caramel. The kids sat down to enjoy the snacks and discuss which houses would be the best for Brad to Trick or Treat.
*****
The day of Halloween, both kids, with Mandy in tow walked home from school to get ready for the evening. After whipping through their homework in record time, the girls fussed over Brad making sure the lightning bolt scar was drawn just so, the hair with the right amount of unruliness, the glasses on, the robe hanging right and the Gryffindor tie knotted, and the scarf settled fashionably over his shoulders. They might not be active participants in the evening, but they were taking full advantage of the opportunity to help Brad prepare. Brad took the role of “dress up dummy” well. Amanda had been doing similar activities to him since he was a baby.
The girls, for being “too old” were giddy with excitement, more excited about the evening than Brad. It was tough making them sit down long enough to eat a sandwich. After Amy went over the safety rules one more time and confirmed that they each had working flashlights, she let them go. It was still a half hour before dark, but that didn’t deter them. They were off in a rush, barely telling Amy and Bill goodbye. Amy looked torn as they crossed the street. This was the first year she wouldn’t accompany them. The girls had assured her they would be fine; too bad Amy wasn’t. Bill put his arm around Amy and added his confidence in the kids being fine.
Bill looked into the two bowls Amy had prepared for any beggars, as he called them, that came to their door. One bowl was for the family kids that lived in the neighborhood. It contained full size candy bars. The second bowl, for non-family members was loaded with fun-size candy bars and individual packs of M&Ms. He made sure the driveway gate was chained and secured, then closed the pet door to keep Maggie from running the fence and barking at everyone. After putting a large block of wood in the stove and opening the front door, while leaving the storm door closed, he got his latest issue of Backwoods Home Magazine and a glass of water and settled into his recliner near the front door.
Maggie’s excited yips at the door brought Bill back from “resting his eyes” and he looked out to see the kids coming up the walk. They entered the house, all jabbering at once and made it known this was just a pit stop to drop off the candy they had collected before going the other direction on the street. Bill chuckled when he saw the girls pulling nearly as much candy out of their pockets as Brad had in his bucket. Almost as quickly as they arrived, they were back out the door in a rush.
Full darkness had settled and Amy was standing at the door watching the latest group of children walking out the gate. Just as she turned away from the door all the lights in the house went dark. She stopped where she was and asked, “Bill, are you awake?”
“Yeah I am.” He got up and joined Amy at the door, looked out, then walked out onto the walkway. He looked up and down the street each way. He was met with darkness, the only illumination coming from the stars and a small sliver of moon, just days away from the new moon stage. He had a sinking feeling as he looked around. His first thought terrified him, “Did they set of an EMP?” He went back into the house and carefully made his way to the kitchen drawer where the flashlights were kept. The room had a slight, dancing illumination, cast from the flame in the wood stove through the glass door.
Flashlight in hand, he picked up the box of matches at the wood stove, and lit the candles that stood on the entertainment center. The candles had been collecting dust for years; Amy had wanted to box them and put them in a closet, but Bill had insisted they remain in view in case they were ever needed. He knew how things could get lost in the closets. The light was better, but still faint.
He took the flashlight to the shop and got down two kerosene lamps. While there, he had another thought, then went through the divider door to his car, got in and started it. It started right up. So did that mean anything; that maybe it wasn’t an EMP and just a normal outage? The information on the web ran the gamut of what would be fried in the event of an EMP; he wasn’t sure what to believe. He took the lamps in the house and lit one.
“Is your phone working,” he asked Amy, “So we can try to get ahold of the kids?”
She pulled it out of her pocket and looked at the display, “It looks like everything is fine, but I don’t have a signal,” she replied. “Do you think it’s related to the power going out?”
As she was checking, he went to the bedroom and checked the home phone. It was the only one in the house that wasn’t cordless and should still be powered by the low voltage that operated the phone lines. “We don’t have a dial tone here either.” Okay, so it’s more than just a normal power outage. “Alright, I’m going to go look for the kids. Can you stay here so if I miss them and they show up, they’re not coming home to an empty house?”
She agreed and he walked out into the darkness. The blackness seemed magnified without the normal street and house lights shining. Walking to the end of the road, he saw two groups of kids, but not the ones he hoped to see. Rounding the corner he saw a group of three flashlights heading his way and recognized his kids’ nervous, but still excited voices. “Hey guys, it’s me”, he spoke loudly and turned his light on, pointed at the ground in front of him.
“Dad, we were like just at the Matthew’s door and all the lights went out. Do you know what happened? It got so dark so fast; it was kind of like spooky you know.” It was all spoken in a rush, with Amanda’s relief evident at seeing her dad.
“I’m not sure what’s happening, other than the power going out. But let’s get home, and then see about getting Mandy home. I’m sure this is making her parents worry.”
They walked back to the house, Bill noting that one of the groups of kids was nowhere to be seen, the other group quite a ways down the road. A few of the houses they passed had faint glows of candle light through the windows. At home, after Amy had hugged each of the kids, Bill lit the second lamp and picked it up and asked the kids to go with him to the shop.
He took out the open bag of tea candles and went to one of the bags of aluminum cans he had collected, removing four. He set everything at the back of his bench and lit one candle. “Okay, see how much light one little candle puts out. I’m going to show you a simple trick to get more light out of it, although it is more directional.” He got a utility knife, pulled the kerosene lamp closer and laid one of the cans down on its side. “So you take a sharp knife and make a vertical cut down one side like this. Then you do a horizontal cut at the top and at the bottom of your cut, making the shape of an inverted “H””. As he talked, he demonstrated the cuts, making the horizontal cuts halfway around the can. “After that you fold the can open, so the cut portions are fins on each side of the open can. I take this drive punch and knock the roundness out of the bottom of the can. Put your candle in the bottom and the can reflects the light out so you can get a lot more light out of one of these little candles.” Again he demonstrated as he talked, lit the second candle and set it beside the first so the kids could compare. “Now it’s you guys turn to make one.” He handed a can and the knife to Brad.
“Mandy, does your family have emergency lighting?” Bill asked while watching as Brad started cutting.
“I’m not sure,” was her short reply.
"Well, when we are finished, you can take these cans and some candles home with you.” He set an un-opened bag of the candles on the bench. Brad had finished with the knife and passed it over to Mandy, past Amanda’s open hand. He smiled sweetly at her glare and let her know it was good manners to allow guests to go first. Bill kept his chuckle to himself; it would take more than a blackout to stop Brad from being the pestering little brother.
Bill had them each make three candle reflectors and put all but two in a shopping bag along with the bag of candles and handed it to Mandy. While they were working, Amy had found them to see what they were working on and to express her concern that they get Mandy home soon. As a mother, she would be frantic about now with no contact with her kids.
Bill went back to the house, checked the wood in the fire, locked the front door, and left the dark house. Maggie whined at being locked in the house and he made a mental note, hoping he would remember to open the pet door once he returned home.
As everyone was getting in the van Brad pushed the button on the garage door opener out of habit. “Uh, Dad, the door won’t open”, he said.
“No, it needs power. We’ll have to open it by hand. Do you know what to do?”
“Uh, no.”
Almost ready to blow out the lamp, Bill stopped himself and walked over and showed Brad the release, pulled it and raised the door, stopping it half way up. “Grab that short rope from that nail Brad. We need to tie it to the bottom of the door. We’ll pull on it to close the door; without the rope, we’d have to get the step stool to reach it to close.” Bill tied the rope and opened the door the rest of the way. “After I back out, you pull on the rope and pull the door closed. Amanda, would you go open the gate?” Bill got in the van, backed out and waited while Brad pulled the door closed and got in. After re-chaining the gate closed, Amanda got in and they started for Mandy’s house.
Traffic was light on the drive, but Bill drove slowly, being ever mindful of trick-or-treaters. Very few were out, most had gone home after the power went out. Only a few houses had any light, most of those very faint and flickering. As he drove, Bill turned on the radio to static. He pushed the scan button and watched the digital display going through the frequencies. It stopped on a station; the voice talking sounding more like a station technician than a seasoned on-air personality. “….on backup generator power. We have no idea at this time how widespread the outage is, as our entire phone systems are down. We have personnel trying to track down key people to try to determine the scope of and the cause of the problems. Following the violence we have suffered recently, I believe it is safe to assume this is yet another act of terrorism.”
Bill reached up and switched the band to “AM” and pushed scan. Once again it sopped on a station: a sister station of the single station broadcasting on FM. The same man was talking on the station. He left the radio on, but turned the volume low.
Mandy’s house had a very faint light showing through the picture window. The front door opened as soon as Bill pulled to a stop. Mandy’s mother stepped out and walked quickly to the van. She wrapped Mandy in a strong embrace when the girl got out of the van. “Thank you so much for getting her home. I was starting to worry after the power and phones both quit working. Do you have any idea how widespread it is?” Mandy’s dad had followed his wife at a slower pace and gave Mandy’s shoulder a squeeze.
“We didn’t see any electric lights anywhere, and the radio is only broadcasting on one station on FM and one on AM. They’re on generator power and don’t know any more than we do,” Amy answered.
Mandy’s mom thought about that. “Wow. I hope it comes back soon,” she finished slowly, quietly. “Thanks for having her and getting her home. We better let you get back home.” The women made promises to talk soon; Bill started the van and they pulled away.
As Bill was driving, he said, “I don’t want to go straight home. I’m going to drive up on the hill to where you can see across the valley and take a look.” The kids sat mostly quiet in the back until Bill asked them if anyone had any chocolate to share. That made them a little livelier as they each offered up the other’s candy. Munching on a Snickers bar as he drove up the highway, Bill was confronted by darkness as far as he could see in every direction. At the top of the hill, instead of turning around, Bill drove on until he could see down the next valley. There was no evidence of the town there as they were confronted with nothing but blackness. He turned the van around and was soon descending into the valley towards home. They reached the vantage point where most of the valley could be seen and they usually saw lights stretching from the Boise range to the Owyhee country miles away.
“Oh Bill,” Amy whispered and reached for his hand, squeezing tightly, as they looked across the dark valley. “There’s not a single light on . . . anywhere.”
|
|
|
Post by themotherhen on Jun 28, 2016 22:43:08 GMT
Yay! I am really enjoying reading this again, thanks!
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Jun 29, 2016 1:04:28 GMT
<mumble, mumble, grumble>
I hate cliffhangers....
|
|
|
Post by Ozarks Tom on Jun 29, 2016 2:09:11 GMT
I printed the entire story off when it was on HT. Since then I've loaned it out 3 times. Everyone's enjoyed it tremendously. But, the coffee and tea stains are making my copy a bit worn.
|
|
|
Post by bretf on Jun 29, 2016 2:45:52 GMT
Thank you Mother Hen. I'm having to do some formatting before each post, and seeing a lot of stuff I'd forgotten about, so it's nice for me to see it again, too.
Thanks Pony, but was that a cliffhanger? Sorry, I didn't notice. Try my other story, The Ashen Horse. No cliffhangers there.
Thanks Tom. You know, after I finished it, some people told me I should get it published. I got a swelled head, and looked into it some, but started the next story instead. I always thought I would go through it someday and try harder to get it published. I have a number of notes on things I thought I'd change.
Now, looking back, after all this time, I'm not so sure. I'm reminded of the whole reason I started this, and it was to share what little knowledge I had. That was my focus, mixed into a story. So maybe it's better i leave it alone. I don't know. I'll have to see what happens with the other story. I want to finish it first. then there are some other stories in my head, trying to get out, including a third one in a different point of view in this setting. Maybe, we'll see.
|
|
|
Post by bretf on Jun 29, 2016 2:53:17 GMT
Chapter 18: I’m no Stranger to the Rain I'm no stranger to the rain, I'm a friend of thunder Friend, is it any wonder lightnin' strikes me I've fought with the devil, got down on his level But I never gave in so he gave up on me
I'm no stranger to the rain, I can spot bad weather And I'm good at findin' shelter in a downpour I've been sacrificed by brothers, crucified by lovers But through it all I withstood the pain
I'm no stranger to the rain but when I get that foggy feeling When I'm feelin' down, if I don't keep my head, I may drown But it's hard to keep believin', I'll even come out even While the rain beats your hope in the ground And tonight it's really comin' down
I'm no stranger to the rain but there'll always be tomorrow And I'll beg, steal or borrow a little sunshine I'll put this cloud behind me, that's how the Man designed me To ride the wind and dance in a hurricane I'm no stranger to the rain, oh, no, I'm no stranger to the rain
“I’m No Stranger to the Rain” Performed by Keith Whitley Written by Sonny Curtis and Ron Hellard“What does it all mean?” Amy asked after she had recovered from the initial shock of the entire valley being thrust into darkness. Her words were soft and hesitant. She kept looking in every direction, willing a light to appear somewhere, anywhere. It was one thing to have an outage at home, but everywhere at once? “I’m not sure,” Bill answered after he exhaled a deep breath and re-opened his eyes to the foreign sight laid out before them. His brain was taking it’s time accepting the emptiness, despite half expecting it after the dark drive. He took a few minutes and gathered his thoughts before saying more. “One possibility is EMPs – that is electromagnetic pulses. Remember Bob brought it up that evening at Mom and Dad’s? I’ve read lots of stuff about them and it seems everybody has differing opinions of the severity and just how much stuff it would affect. If that’s what caused this, some of them say this car wouldn’t be running now. I just don’t know.” Puzzling through the causes seemed to be helping him; yes it’s a major blackout, the entire valley. But it’s not the end of the world. There wasn’t a blinding flash. Now accept it, adapt and work your way through it.“Another possibility is smaller, local problems or destruction, but with the same effect of knocking out the power. Remember a few years ago parts of about ten states were without electricity when a squirrel shorted out the lines? A short at one strategic point knocked out ten states! Maybe it’s something as simple as that and wasn’t even caused by the terrorists. I know we’re all pretty jittery after the last couple of months and willing to blame everything on them, but it is possible it’s not some kind of attack.” Even as he said it, he didn’t believe it was anything but another attack. “Then there was that incident a few years before the squirrel, I remember a bigger blackout than that one. It even hit us here. It seems I read about the lines being so interconnected nowadays, that it is almost like a domino effect if the right part shuts down. That report said that if something like a dozen key spots were knocked out, it could kill the power to about eight five percent of the country. That report must have been pretty interesting reading to the guys that have been blowing up places. I’ll bet they were drooling all over their robes. I’d love it if this outage is from something simple, but I’d bet the bombers and their ilk were behind it.” His resolve firmed as he discussed the outage. We can get through this. There’ll be some rough times but we can handle it. I’m set up for problems; I just have to face things as they come up. I’ve got to be strong for Amy and the kids. “But regardless of how it happened, the bottom line is we don’t have electricity or phone service. So, my question is, is it going to be long term or short? I think we will just continue to prepare for the worst but pray for the best. As it is though, I think we’ve been thrown back about a hundred and fifty years without the proper knowledge of how to deal with it.” They drove on, getting back into the valley, treating intersections as four way stops while the signal lights were dark sentinels above them. “And just as winter weather is setting in. So for most people you can add no heat to the problems. I’m guessing most municipal water and sewer systems won’t work. If this lasts for much time at all, it’s going to get ugly, very ugly.” At Amy’s sharp intake of breath, he added, “But we’re in good shape. We have water, heat and food. We’ll be fine. The biggest concern is if this drags out a long time.” And the people that aren’t set up for it.
“But how could it last for a long time, we built everything, we have to be able to fix it,” Amy said hopefully. “I hope it can be fixed soon too, but without knowing exactly what happened, it’s tough to speculate. Besides that, the bombers have been active for close to two months now. I don’t have a lot of faith in our chances at stopping them,” he said. Amanda and Brad had remained quiet ever since they had seen the darkened valley. Bill had to glance over his shoulder to check if they were asleep; they were both looking straight ahead with wide eyes. After they turned onto their own road, Bill stopped at his folk’s house to check on them. He knew they had the knowledge to deal with the situation, but he wasn’t sure how they were currently equipped for it. Actually, he figured they had better knowledge for dealing with it than most anyone. His dad had grown up without electricity, not living in a house with it until after he had returned from his stint in the navy. His mom hadn’t been in a house with electricity very much sooner than he had. But that was long ago and they now lived with all of the modern conveniences. Bill stepped into the living room that was illuminated by a camping lantern. “We were just getting ready for bed,” his Dad said. “I got that light for now,” he said nodding towards the lantern, “But figured I might as well save the fuel since I start resting my eyes out here about now anyway. In the morning, we’ll see what the situation is and deal with it in the light of day.” Bill walked across the room and reached for the handle on the door of the wood stove. “I’ve already put the night block in and shut it down,” Cal said, stopping Bill’s movement. Seeing there wasn’t anything needed to help them out, Bill said, “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then. Goodnight,” and he walked out the door, making sure to lock it as he left. I’ll tell them about the view from Horseshoe Bend Hill tomorrow. They don’t need to hear about it tonight.At home the kerosene lamps were again lit and Bill handed one to Amanda and asked her to help him. They went to the shop and he located two clean buckets and went to the pump house to fill them. Amanda stood aside from him, holding the light so they both could see. He had tried to step in and pump a little with the hand pump every day or two, keeping the leathers swelled and the pump primed. With both buckets full, he took them to the house, then went back to the shop and dug out two milk jugs filled with water. The jugs of water had been stored under the bench for emergencies and he was glad he wouldn’t have to drink it. No matter how he rinsed them, they managed to keep a little of the milk. Even after adding a spoonful of bleach to each jug, the water still seemed off. He dumped the water in the backyard raised bed, took the jugs in the house and refilled them from the tea kettles that were always on the wood stove. Asking Brad to refill the kettles and Amanda to accompany him, they went to the small chicken house. The young chicks were already bunching in a corner in an attempt to stay warm; luckily none had been crushed or suffocated. So why did I want chicks so late in the year? He placed the two jugs near the clumping chicks, and then he and Amanda moved chicks around the jugs. It would hold for a while, but he wasn’t sure for how long. “Let’s get a couple of more jugs in the house and fill them and bring them down here as soon as the water is hot”. As they were walking past the greenhouse he noticed the pile of stones left from the walkway project. “I’ll take a few of these and warm them too. They seem to hold heat quite a while.” He picked up what rocks he could carry and Amanda let him in the back door, then went and found more milk jugs. With the wind up alarm clock set for thirty minutes, he dozed while the water and rocks heated. With the alarm’s irritating bell waking him, Bill groggily thought that it was going to make for long nights if this continued. He filled the jugs, started more water heating, dressed for the frigid outdoor temperature, and put the jugs and a hot rock in a canvas bag and went out into the dark. He left the kerosene lamp in the house, opting instead for a LED headlamp. He aimed his light at the chicks and saw they were beginning to clump again. The first jugs were warm, but cooler than the brooder light had kept the area. With the new jugs and the large rock in place he has able to spread the chicks out a little more than before. It was an activity he would repeat numerous times before the sun came up. With each trip to the brooder house, he asked himself again why he wanted new chicks so late in the year. He considered putting the chicks in a box and taking them to the house and placing them near the stove but he knew Amy didn’t want livestock in the house, however something definitely needed changed. After the water jug and rock change at daybreak, he woke the kids and instructed them on what to do and tried to get some uninterrupted sleep. Sleep wouldn’t come as Bill’s mind wouldn’t shut down; it kept running over the events of the previous evening, the problem of keeping his chicks alive and always going back to the disturbing view of the entire valley devoid of lights. And he kept hearing Amy’s whispered words over and over again, “There’s not a light on . . . anyplace.” The words and image were nearly impossible to displace. As he puzzled over the chick problem, he decided he really didn’t want the house smelling like a chicken coop for the next four weeks any more than Amy did, especially going into winter, so he had to take the wood stove heat to the chicks. But how? He decided to ponder further on it at his best thinking spot: the milk stool. Besides, the goat’s chorus was too loud to be ignored. By the time he was finished milking, he had the basic plan in mind. The rocks he had used as heat reservoirs during the night had stored and released heat very efficiently. He would finish a small rocket stove mass heater he had been working on before the bombings began. The mass would be cinder blocks circling the perimeter of the room with dryer duct running through them, and additional stones on the top of the blocks. He had the prototype of the system mostly put together, but as yet untried. It had been planned to heat blocks under his fruit trees in the spring if it looked like frost when the trees were in bloom. In the past he had saved the apricot crop by running two strands of Christmas mini lights in the tree. If that small amount of heat could save the blossoms and young fruit, he reasoned that some hot blocks and rocks under the tree might be just as effective. Now hopefully, it would save a bunch of young chicks while letting him get more sleep. Before he went out to start working, Amy got up and asked what he wanted for breakfast. The bags under her eyes showed she had gotten about as much sleep as he had. He thought about it for a few moments and looked at the refrigerator. “If the power doesn’t come back on soon, we’ll lose anything in the fridge we don’t get eaten. So just do your best guess as to what is in there, and grab stuff fast to try to retain the cold. After we eat, I’ve got some milk crates that the food could be put in and set out in the root cellar. It’s just under forty degrees in there so we can use it for a fridge for the time being.” Amy called him to breakfast with an apology. “Sorry about the burned bacon and dried out eggs. I really tried, but I just couldn’t control the heat. I don’t know how you cook on that wood stove.” She had trouble cooking on the gas range, but only because she was always trying to accomplish something else once the food was started; the wood stove was going to be a bigger challenge. As it was, she couldn’t stop herself from multi-tasking and had the refrigerator emptied, with everything moved to the garage. Bill would have to remember to get the crates into the root cellar later. The coffee had been brewed – a little too long and strong – in the old fashioned percolator Amy had dug out of the camp box. “That’s’ all right. You know the saying; any meal is good you don’t have to cook yourself,” he said with a grin holding up a nearly black piece of bacon. When he bit into it, it crunched like a potato chip. “Besides, you can try to do better tomorrow.” “You might change your tune after you’ve sampled all of it,” she answered. The remainder of the morning was spent getting the chick house heater completed and fired. It did everything Bill had hoped for and soon the chicks were scattered between the encircling blocks. He had a thermometer in with the chicks and another outside. He carefully monitored the system throughout the day, making notes about the time the fire died out to try to get a hand on timing to reheat the mass. A box was set nearby with fuel; Bill didn’t want to be searching for the right sized wood in the middle of the night. The kids watched with rapt attention, eager for their own chance to warm up the chicks. I hope they still feel that way when the alarm goes off in the middle of the night.
When they arrived at Bill’s folk’s house, they found Bob was there and everything had been taken care of. The wood boxes were both filled, oil lamps had been cleaned and filled and water carried in. Bill’s mom had a wood cook stove in the kitchen. She had used it for years for cooking in the winter months as well as heating the kitchen. It also had a water jacket in the firebox, plumbed for fresh water to flow in and after being heated, flow out into a storage tank behind the stove. Without the pump running, the water heater was now disabled and they had a large pot on the stove’s surface. Other than the lack of running water, their biggest inconvenience so far was lack of television. They always sat down at noon with the news on while they ate. They had found batteries and put in the old radio, but the one station broadcasting didn’t have anything new to tell, so they soon switched it off. ***** Walking all around his home with a critical eye, Bill tried to figure out what to work on next. Lord, I’m not sure just where to go from here. I wish I knew if you were testing us for the long haul, or if this is just a short blip. Whatever it is, I ask you to guide me and bless my actions. Amen. He continued to walk and look; when in his shop, he saw the unopened boxes from Harbor Freight containing the small solar panels. They weren’t much, but they would provide enough power for limited lighting. He decided getting the solar panels, batteries and lights mounted and wired would a worthwhile use of his time. The panels were soon mounted on the roof of the house. As he was sealing the roof penetrations, he regretted not buying a couple of cases of silicone; there were just two unopened tubes in the shop. He put the golf cart batteries in the attic, not enjoying that part of the job at all, and wired the panels to them. A short strip of LEDs was mounted above the sink, the wood stove and in each bedroom and bathroom, a switch put in line with each strip and low voltage cable run to the batteries. He had one strip of LED’s remaining that he mounted above the kitchen table and completed the wiring. A final wire was run to the computer desk with a car power outlet wired in. Amy had long ago purchased a portable DVD player to be used on long road trips in the van. Bill decided they could watch part of a movie after supper. After the player was attached, he wondered what it would take to make the laptop computer work since its battery wouldn’t last long. I’ll try to figure that out later.Evening was coming on quickly and the smell of cooking had been getting stronger as he worked. Amy had gotten the Dutch oven out of the camp gear, put in an elk roast, added potatoes, carrots and onions, allowing it to cook slowly on the wood stove. When Bill had seen her digging out the Dutch oven, he had taken a break from the lighting project. He found a trivet and showed her to use it if the fire was blazing, and which sections of the stove’s top cooked hotter or cooler. The kids had been diligent during the day, keeping the chicks warm and monitoring the time needed between firings of the rocket stove. They had just heated it up again, refilled the wood box and filled the house wood box. They had heated the ground in the greenhouse; the rocket stoves were fun to feed, and their mom was in the house and couldn’t fret over them. She always stood over them, closely watching, and worried each time Bill had one of them put wood in the stove. While Bill packed more water to the house, the kids finished up the evening chores; they went to the house together, tired from a busy day after the poor night of sleep. The two largest stock pots they owned were set on the stove and filled with water, and Bill made the trip again to the pump house, hand pumped the buckets full and returned them to the house. Wow, it’s been one day and packing water is already getting old. He went back to the shed and found the camp shower; the black rubber bladder with the hose and nozzle. Looking at the shower stall, he saw where he could span the area with a board and suspend the camp shower from it. After he had everything ready, he gave a quick tutorial to the family, “You fill the bladder from the pot on the stove and the bucket to the temperature you want. Step into the shower stall and get wet and turn the water back off. Soap up and wash, lather your hair, and then turn the water back on and rinse off. There’s not enough water for long showers. Once you run out of water, you’re done. I usually shave under the shower, but not anymore. I’ll have to put water in the sink and shave there,” he said as he looked directly at Amy, thinking of her time in the shower to shave her legs. Brad looked at the setup as an adventure. Amy and Amanda both bemoaned the fact that it didn’t look like anywhere near enough water for a shower. “Well, I’m going to see how effective it is,” Bill answered to their complaints. I want to get cleaned up before supper.” His skin had felt like it was crawling ever since he had been in the attic. He mixed water to the preferred temperature, filled the bladder, and showered. While he would have liked to stand under a steady stream of hot water for a while, he made it a fast shower; the bladder proved to have enough water for that. The ladies still appeared skeptical after he emerged from the bathroom, clean and freshly shaved. “Well, there’s one more of those bladders in the camp gear. You could use both if you need to but I’m not going to set it up today.” As they ate Brad asked, “Can I use the shower next?” Bill kept the comment to himself that they usually had to force the boy to shower. Amy thought about it and told him she had planned on letting him wash the dishes after supper, but yes, he could shower. Washing dishes was going to be something new for the kids, they were well versed in putting dishes in the dishwasher, but the idea of hand washing was totally foreign to them. Amy had searched for a long time just to locate the dish rack that had been put in the shed years earlier. Bill suppressed the comment that the dishwasher was now just two built in drying racks. She had been so pleased when she took the rack into the house. “Bill,” Amy said. “I’m worried about Frances. She was going to drive up here today. I know under good conditions it’s a ten hour drive. She should be here by now. What if something happened and she couldn’t get out of town? Or maybe she had trouble on the road.” “Well, she may have gotten out of town later than planned. There’s not a lot of population between there and here. I’m sure she is just taking her time. She had two or three different routes planned; she may have decided to take a longer route to avoid more people. Let’s give her more time before we get too worried.” Brad had come out of the shower, and taunted Amanda about how he had lots of water left over. Brad’s gloating came to a halt when he was informed he was helping wash dishes. Everyone had showered with only minimal grumbling from Amanda and Amy. Amy whispered into Bill’s ear that if that was all the water she got, he’d better get used to hairy legs rubbing against his in bed. The dishes were drying in the rack and the chick house had been warmed again so the family sat down to start a movie. The lead in credits had hardly completed before Bill was asleep in his chair. The kid’s eyes were glued to the small screen while Amy had her eyes on the screen without seeing as she was thought about her siblings. Finally, Amy shook free of her brooding, and sent everyone to bed. She informed the kids they would be warming the chick house, set the alarm and joined Bill in bed. She lay there awake worrying about any number of problems that could be delaying Frances, and wondered if her brother was throwing a blackout party. T hat’s the type of thing he would do at a time like this. At least Frances had a plan to escape the city; her brother just might be a lost cause. ***** A low warning growl from Maggie woke Bill. She had been on the floor by the bed but had stood and had her nose under the window blind, looking out into the dark night. He rolled over and looked at his alarm clock; the digital display was blank and dark. Oh, right. He rose from the bed, and standing at the window, pulled the blind aside enough to see out. Everything was dark, the moon not helping at all. He spoke softly to the dog, dressed quietly, picked up the Remington shotgun leaning against his dresser and went to get his coat, hat and boots. Maggie’s actions puzzled him. If she had heard an animal, she would have run out the pet door and begun to bark loudly. This was different. Operating out of habit, he flicked the bathroom light switch on - it would only cast muted light into the kitchen and living room area - to no results. Oh yeah, that’s why I’ve got the flashlight on my nightstand that I forgot to grab. He didn’t bother to feel for one of the new light switches. He walked gingerly across the room; his free hand extended ahead of him to feel for obstructions; to the coat rack and found his chore coat, put it on and checked the pocket for the flashlight kept there. Going by feel to his irrigator boots, he found them, pulled them on and went quietly out the back door, Maggie stayed by him growling softly. Her actions were still puzzling. He rested his hand on the dog’s head, keeping her close by him. It wasn’t as black outside, but not by much, and he moved quietly without the light along the side of the house. He saw a car that was parked in front of his gate so he stopped where he was and slowly looked all around, but saw no movement. He was about to step away from the corner of the house when the car’s interior light came on and he recognized his sister in law. He turned his light on in hopes he wouldn’t startle her and went out the walk gate to the car. “Bill?” she asked. “Is that you?” Her voice was high-pitched, nervous and tired all at the same time. “I’m sorry to disturb your sleep. I was just going to sleep in the car until you guys were up and around.” The relief was evident in her voice as she finished. Maggie recognized the voice and ran to the fence, her tail wagging vigorously. “Yep, it’s me. I’m glad you made it. Your sister was getting pretty worried about you. How was the trip?” “It was terrible getting out of Vegas. The power all went off just after dark on Halloween; I guess that was yesterday. I’m so tired and spacey right now, it might have been two or three days ago for all I know. Anyway, I was going to leave the next morning so I had everything in the car ready to go. Just as I was getting ready for bed, I heard shooting. I went outside and it looked like a large part of the strip was on fire and the shooting was continuous. It was like the people all went crazy or something. So I decided to get out then instead of waiting for morning. I tried to get on I-15 so I could come here by the most direct route but it was blocked. I am so glad you had me draw out other ways to get out of town. I was so scared!” While she was relating the story, tears began flowing, and she wiped at her nose with a tissue. “I was able to work around to highway 95 and head north that way. At one intersection a guy aimed a gun and me and yelled at me to stop and get out of the car. I just floored it instead; I can’t believe I almost ran him over. Once I got out of town, I looked back. I think war had broken out at the casinos. I’m afraid to think what it was like the next day. I tried to avoid any town with much size coming up so it took a lot longer. I also had to find some hidden places and get some sleep a couple of times.” “Well, I’m glad you made it safe. Let’s get your car parked and find you a bed. His body told him it must be around 4:00AM and he wouldn’t get any more sleep that night. After he had filled the sink with wash water and had Frances settled into the spare bedroom and, he excused himself. With the aid of the flashlight, he went to his own bedroom and turned off the alarm clock. He stoked the fire back up and filled the coffee pot and set it on the stove and went back out into the cold pre-dawn. As he went to the chicken house, he scraped his fingers over the pickup’s windshield and came away with frost whitened glove tips. Once he was in the chick house, feeling the temperature change over the outside he was very pleased with the results of the heat system. Three hours since the kids had last burned the rocket stove, the chicks were still comfortable. He started a fresh fire in the rocket stove, filled it with more wood and stepped back into the cold. The aroma of coffee and radiating wood stove heat greeted Bill when he stepped into the house. There’s nothing like the comfortable heat of a wood fire. Working by the dancing light of the fire he hung his coat and slipped out of his boots. After carrying the coffee pot to the sink, he used the LED lights to illuminate the area as he removed the grounds, filled his cup and returned the pot to the stove, sitting it on the trivet at the cool corner of the stove top. As he sipped his coffee, he remembered his thyroid medication and took a pill with a large glass of water. Sitting the coffee on the table, he located a large binder, switched the light to the strip over the table and settled down to read while he drank, waiting for the first jolt of caffeine to hit him. The binder was opened first to the Humanure pamphlet; that material was followed by the instructions on building a composting toilet. humanurehandbook.com/ www.compostjunkie.com/composting-toilet-plans.html After reading both over and comparing them, he came up with a plan for the day’s activity. The real work would come later: showing the completed project to everyone and convincing them of its necessity. That ought to be fun. With the plan done he switched his light off, drank the rest of the tepid coffee, put his coat, hat and boots back on and went out to milk the goat. After chores he had to get to work hauling water. The hoop house and cold frame crops that had so recently been watered by hose would now have to be watered by packing buckets. The saving grace was that late season growing required much less water than main season gardening. The greenhouse water collection system would last for a few waterings, but he would soon be packing water there also, barring more rainfall. Well, I had complained about getting soft sitting at the computer most of the day. I guess that’s done. The first hints of daylight were showing when he started carrying water, saving him from using any artificial lights. He would have preferred to wait for the day to warm up, but felt driven to be doing something – accomplishing something. With his back and arms tired after multiple trips from the pump house to the young plants, he went to the house for another cup of coffee. The house was quiet, everyone still asleep so he was as quiet as he could be. He looked in on Amy, considered telling her Frances was there, but decided to let her sleep. She hadn’t gotten the best quality of rest lately. Picking up the binder and his coffee cup, he instantly spilled coffee down the front of his coat and had to stop and clean up the floor and his coat. Slow down, he told himself and was more careful as he went outside. The garage doors were open, the cars backed out and sawhorses set up to make a temporary bench. It would have been much more comfortable working if he had kept the doors closed and started the fire in the shop stove. But the lack of light prevented that so Bill worked wearing a coat and light gloves. The solar trickle charger on the batteries for his cordless tools almost kept up with his use; he only needed to use the hand saw a few times. At least the motion was different than pumping water and carrying buckets. Now I can have other sore muscles.The composting toilet was finished in the late afternoon. Bill had been able to work mostly uninterrupted while the women talked. The kids had listened in as long as their mom let them before being chased out. There was some deep emotion between the sisters, especially discussing their brother. Bill thought it best to leave them alone as much as possible. He was cleaning everything up from the project when a pickup stopped at his gate and his boss came down the driveway. “Hi Tom, this is a surprise. What brings you here today?” “Hey Bill. I’ve been making the rounds to everyone’s house yesterday and today. I’ve been letting them know that without electricity or phones, I have no way of operating the business. Unless it comes back, we’re done. It just feels with all the recent events, this might turn out to be long term. It’s not like we had been getting much business recently anyway. I didn’t want anyone to show up at the shop and find a note on the door telling them they are unemployed. If we aren’t back up on Monday, I’ll see if the state is trying to operate the job service office and see if there is any chance for unemployment. I really don’t know what they’ll do. They’re so tied up in the modern conveniences, doing everything electronically, I don’t hold out a lot of hope.” “I appreciate that Tom. I hate to see the business close. You made a nice place to work. It was always enjoyable. So, how are you doing with all this? Do you need anything?” “No, so far we’ve got along fine. We’re pretty well set up, but don’t tell anyone. Now that’s a nice toilet you’ve got going there. I might have to throw one of those together.” “Well, I’ve got the plans out now so you can copy them if you want. Or if your laptop still works, you have the plans on that disc I burnt you when all this nonsense started. Here, let’s have a seat and relax a bit and have a drink. I’ve been hitting it hard all day and I need a break,” Bill said, setting out two lawn chairs, and excusing himself to the house to get two cups of tea. Once Bill returned, the two men sat companionably and discussed the power outage and what it meant, reminisced about their years of working together, enjoying each other’s company. After a time, Tom requested to see what all Bill had going on. They left the chairs and Bill showed his root cellar, the winter gardening efforts and the chick house heater. Bill didn’t point out his puny solar power system. Tom had one that could provide for all his household power needs. As they talked, Bill realized how much he would miss being around Tom if the power outage continued. Besides helping him out of a rough patch, Tom had become a very good friend and sounding block for a variety of things. The terrorists were forcing unwelcome changes on all of them. Bill recognized it but he didn’t like it one bit. He contemplated again on the Bible passages about forgiveness and love. Jesus, that’s still pretty hard for me. I don’t know that I can do it!
|
|
|
Post by bretf on Jun 29, 2016 2:57:38 GMT
Chapter 19: Time of Inconvenience
We're living in a time of inconvenience Compassion fails me with this meanness in the air Our city streets are filled with violence So we close our doors to the city And pretend that it's not there
Here I go again back out on these mean streets The evil seems to cling to the soles of my feet 'Cuz I'm living in a time of inconvenience At an inconvenient time
“Time of Inconvenience” Performed by Nanci Griffith Written by Nanci Griffith
The mounting pressure in his bladder woke Bill; oh to be young again. He rolled over to look at his alarm clock; try to get more sleep or get up and start the day? He was met with a dark display. Oh, right, I wonder how many days I’ll look for the time before it sinks in that the power is out. He got up and urinated in the plastic jar near his toilet, making a mental note to dump it on the pile of leaves in the garden later. Going into the living room, he added wood to the fire and checked his watch in the firelight after locating a pair of reading glasses. Yup, I miss electricity. Fond memories of the fast brewing drip coffee maker came to him as he filled the percolator and set the pot on the stove.
During breakfast, the radio was turned on. The one operating FM station had contacted the power company. The official word was that they had yet to determine the cause of the outage and correct the problem. The unofficial word was they were at a loss: key equipment had been destroyed with no replacements available.
Most local government offices would be closed until the power was restored. The water company had one pump running on a back-up generator. It was not enough to pressure the city’s lines, but people could go to the operating well and fill water containers. Cell towers of course needed electricity. The hospitals were running, albeit with greatly reduced operations on back-up power.
The station had made contact outside of their area. The news was grim. The power outage appeared to be nationwide, with only small pockets not affected. The statements echoed the local power company, “We are working diligently to return to normal service”. Law enforcement had “no comment”. Rumors abounded that many officers had not reported in; choosing instead to stay with and protect their families. Riots had broken out in many large cities. Large sections were burning uncontrolled. After hearing that much of Los Angeles and Orange County were aflame, Bill switched the radio off. It was quiet at the table for a long time, Amy and Frances thinking about their brother.
After breakfast, they sat at the table and discussed what they needed to do during the day. Amy wanted to go by her office. After hearing the news, it was almost certain they were closed but she insisted she had to go in to verify it. She also wanted to be certain the school was shut down. Again, it was a near certainty it was closed, but if there was any chance at all of it being open, even on a limited basis, she had to know.
Bill loaded the kids into the car and drove to the school. A few cars were entering the parking lot, a few more leaving, with kids still inside. As he neared the front of the school, he saw the principal and some teachers talking to occupants of the cars ahead of him. After each talk, the car drove away, kids still inside. When Bill’s turn came, he was told “We won’t be having school. We don’t have lights or heat, so we will be closed until the power is restored.”
“Okay, but what about books? Can they go in and get them? It’s not that I can’t keep these guys busy, but it would be nice if we could continue their schooling, even on a limited base.” He heard a groan in the back seat and thought he heard an “Oh Dad!”
The teacher talking to them thought about it a moment, and said, “Yes, I think we can get their books. That’s a great idea. I’ll have to start suggesting it to everyone else from now on. Why don’t you go park and one of us will take you in.”
As Bill pulled into a parking space he definitely heard the complaints. “But Dad, nobody else is going to be doing schoolwork. Why do we have to?”
“Last time I checked, no other kids live at our house or they would be doing school work too. But I’ll let you skip schoolwork today; the chicken house needs cleaned and I’ve got too much to do to get to it. You guys can get it done in no time working together.”
“But I wanted to do my social studies work. Really, I can do school work.”
Bill smiled as he got out of the car and took his re-useable shopping bags from the trunk to put the books in. School work would always be better than scooping chicken poop. The kids followed along, greeted the teacher and followed him into the darkened hallways, illuminated by the beam of a flashlight. They went first to Brad’s desk and filled a shopping bag with his textbooks, binders and journal, then went to Amanda’s locker and emptied most of its contents into a second bag.
*****
“Uh…Mr. Moser….sir.”
Bill turned from the shelf at the back of the garage to look at a pale, gangly teenager standing at the open door. Wow, that boy needs to get outside more. “Yes, what can I do for you?” He took the box of canning jars down and set them where he could reach them easily later. The time was quickly approaching when he would have to can everything that was in the freezer.
“Well, sir, my mom was wondering if you have any extra water we could have. We’re all out. The people that live beside us don’t have any to spare. They thought you might.”
Bill looked piercingly at the boy and thought. Dang, I’m sure everybody is running out of water; why didn’t I think of that? “So have you gone through all of the water in your water heater?”
“Sir….our power is out so our pump isn’t working. We can’t get the water.” Bill imagined the “Duh” added at the end.
“My name is Bill, not sir; I’m not much on formal titles. And you are?” Bill thought he had seen the boy go by in a car a few times but didn’t recall ever seeing him out with any of the other kids.
“Uh….my name is Mark, sir….er, I mean Bill.”
“Okay Mark, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Bill said as he held out his hand to shake. “Where do you live?”
Mark told him and Bill recalled that he had never met the people in that house. There was never an answer to the door when he rang the bell or knocked.
“Hang tough here for a bit while I tell the wife where I am going.” Amy had returned home after confirming that yes, her office was closed. She was in the house overseeing the kids while they did schoolwork. “By the way,” Bill looked pointedly at the boy’s empty hands. “How did you plan on getting the water home?” Mark instantly reddened at the comment but didn’t have a response.
Before going in the house, Bill pointed Mark to his hand truck and got his hand tire pump off a hook and handed it to him. “You know how to use one of these?”
“No sir, er, um Bill.”
One wheel of the hand truck was always flat. It needed patched but had been low on Bill’s priority list. After showing Mark how to use the pump he went to the house and told Amy what he was doing and went back out. In his storage shed he got out a six gallon water jug from the shelf of camping gear and handed it to Mark and led the way to his pump house. Once inside, he pointed at the hand pump and asked “Do you know what that is?”
“No s…. Bill.”
“That’s a hand water pump. Take the lid off that jug and put the opening under the pump’s spout and raise and lower the handle there.”
Mark filled the water jug, spilling about a half-gallon on the cement floor in the process. “Wow, that’s cool! I wish our well had something like this.” He put the jug on the hand truck as directed and they went out the gate together, Mark pulling the hand truck after Bill walked past it on the way to open the gate.
“So where do you go to school Mark?” Bill asked as they walked down the road.
“I homeschool.”
“Really? So, I take it your mother is at home? What grade are you in?”
“I’m in the eighth this year. My mom used to be a school teacher before we moved here. She couldn’t find a full time teaching job and the term was already partially over, so she decided if she was going to be home, I could stay home with her.”
“So what do you do for fun? Do you have any hobbies, play sports or music?”
“I like to read and build things, you know like models and the Lego kits, and things like that. My dad has been trying to teach me some computer stuff; he’s into I.T., but I think that stuff is so boring. I like to hold pieces in my hands and figure out how everything goes together, you know, kinda like putting together a 3-D puzzle.
“I haven’t been playing sports lately, but I did play soccer for a few years. I wanted to play Lacrosse this year, but my mom thought I might get hurt. She said it is too rough. She was especially worried I might hurt my hands because I have been playing piano for a long time.”
They had arrived at Mark’s house and while going up the walkway Bill mentally cursed himself. That’s what you get for forming first impressions. He’s not as big a loser as you thought just looking at him. Please forgive me father. Mark opened the front door. “Hey mom, Mr. Moser is here.”
A woman entered the room and Mark introduced them “Mom, this is Mr. um, Bill Moser. Bill, this is my mom Leslie Williams.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Williams. Mark tells me you are out of water.”
“Yes, we only had a few bottles when the power went off and they’re all gone now.”
“You know, there’s a lot stored in your pipes that you will need to get out before it freezes as well as a large amount in the water heater. There should be a pressure tank somewhere too with a lot of water. Have you used any of that?”
“We haven’t, and don’t have any idea how to go about it. And I don’t even know what a pressure tank is.”
Bill asked to be shown the water heater and showed Mark and Leslie the drain valve and the relief valve. Mark instantly understood why the upper valve would need opened to allow air into the tank. Mark then took him to the well casing. It was capped in the yard with a submersible pump. Looking at the most likely path for the pipes to be run, they went into the garage and found the pressure tank. It also had a drain valve so the family could utilize that water.
Bill pointed out a fitting on the pipes between the tank and the line going to the house. “If we pull that plug, I have another plug that we can put in its place that you can hook my tire pump to. Pump it up with a lot of pressure and open the faucet in the sink and you can get a lot of water out still. Make sure you catch it all. Do that with all of the faucets to get as much as you can. Besides getting water, you’ll be giving room in the pipes so the remaining water will have enough expansion room not to break the water lines if they freeze.
“See this,” he pointed to some pipes and fittings. “This line runs to your sprinklers. This part stops any water in the lines from back-flowing and contaminating your well water. He turned off the valves leading to the sprinklers then pointed to another plug in a tee. “That’s where you hook in to blow out the lines. If you pull that plug and put in the fitting I’m going to loan you, you can blow out the sprinkler line too. I’ll do mine today and show you how I do it,” he told Mark. He addressed Mark and Leslie both, “You can continue to use the jug for the time being. I have a hand powered pump mounted on my well so you can get water whenever you need it Mrs. Williams. But there is a cost.”
Mrs. Williams looked worried when Bill mentioned a cost. “We don’t have any money. We always used a card and did all of our banking online. My husband’s office has direct deposit. We just don’t use money.” Her face dropped when she finished.
Bill instantly regretted his choice of words. “I’m sorry, that’s not exactly what I had in mind. I want to borrow Mark for a while; that’s the only cost I’m talking about. I’m guessing a lot of the neighborhood is in the same fix as you. I want Mark to go around and ask everyone to come to my garage at 5:00 today, your family included. We’ll discuss water and I’m going to make my pump available and gather up some more information to give everyone. So, do you think I can use him?”
Her relief was evident. “Of course, you can use him for that. By the way, call me Leslie.”
“And I’m Bill. I’ll see you and your husband later.”
After telling Mark more about his plan and what he should say, he asked Mark to stop by and let him know the neighbors’ response when he was done, then getting his hand truck, started towards home. Instead of going straight home, he went to see the neighbor across from his house, Frank. Frank had a garage full of storage food and also had a hand pump on his well. He had once before offered Bill water during a power outage. Bill hoped he would be as generous with the rest of the neighbors. Frank readily agreed and said he would come over for the get together. Bill wasn’t going to tell the neighbors about his Dad and brother’s hand pumps. Each of them had a lot of storage in their pump houses that no one else needed to know about. As it was, the two wells with pumps should work out.
Bill went into his garage and looked at the freezer. A small puddle was growing at the front corner where the frost inside was melting and finding its way out the door seal. He wanted to start working on preserving the contents right away, but decided it could be put off a little longer. The key was to keep the door closed and allow the contents to thaw very slowly. A quick look at the second freezer showed about the same amount of water on the floor.
Instead of getting started canning the food in the freezers, Bill went to the boxes of materials he had printed off from years of internet surfing. There was a lot of information in those boxes and he was glad he hadn’t stored it all on electronic files. After a lot of searching, he located the instructions on making a well bucket for people to draw water out of their own well. It was a simple affair, made from a length of pipe and a pipe cap. There were many other options, but this was one he had printed. He found the paper work on making a sand filter. A drain ditch ran near the neighborhood, and in case anyone chose to utilize it, he hoped they would filter it first. He had information on making a solar water distiller. Even though he would offer his well for use, he still wanted everyone to have as much information as possible on making water potable.
About the time he had everything ready Mark returned and gave him the rundown of his talks with the neighbors. There were a few that were not at home that Mark said he would try once more before the meeting time.
“Thanks Mark. Now if you’re up to helping me a while, I’ll show you what to do with your sprinkler lines. It would certainly be easier with an air compressor, but I don’t have a generator, so we’ll use Armstrong power. I always wanted a generator but just never could justify one. Now I’m sure it’s too late.”
“Sir…er I mean Bill, what’s Armstrong power?”
Chuckling as he grasped Mark’s upper arm, Bill told him “This is the arm that’s going to get strong with all the work.” As he let go, the back door opened, Amanda and Brad going outside.
“Dad what can we do to help you? Mom is harder on us than our teachers so we had to escape,” Amanda stated while Brad agreed. “Who’s this?” she asked looking at Mark.
After introductions were made, Bill went about gathering up tools and parts. “We need to blow out the sprinkler lines, but I don’t want the water wasted, so you can all learn how to do it while you help me.” He indicated the tool box for one of them to bring along. He went to the last sprinkler in the first line, dug it out and replaced the sprinkler head with a straight coupler attached to a flexible hose. The end of the hose was put in another of the camping water jugs. “Brad, you stay here and keep the hose in the jug, and if it gets full, holler at us and we’ll start on another. Amanda, Mark, you two come with me.” He led them to the control box and showed them how to manually open each individual line, then took them to the pump house. He changed the fitting on the line from a quick connect for his air compressor to a screw in valve stem and hooked on the hand tire pump. “Okay, now start pumping. It will put pressure in the line. I’ll go open that line at the box and your air pressure will push the water out where Brad is.”
As each line was drained, Bill had the kids switch off so each of them was familiar with every step of the job. After the sprinkler lines were done, he walked them through blowing out the lines in the house. They weren’t totally blown out, but at least damage should be minimal if the waterlines froze. Once they were all done, he asked “So Mark, do you think you can do this at your house?”
“I think so. Since you showed me the fitting to change, I’m pretty sure I can do it.”
“Good. I thought you guys all caught on. Amanda and Brad, you guys go with Mark and help him out. I’ll put the sprinklers and dirt back here and take the water in.” He watched the three kids decide what they needed to take with them, only adding they might need a pipe wrench, thanked them for their help and wished them luck. He added that he would be around if they needed him, but expressed his confidence in the three of them to work through it.
As the neighbors came that evening, Bill’s thoughts were confirmed that many of them were without or nearly without water. In some cases, it was obvious there wasn’t enough water for washing. It was a grateful group after he gave them the print outs and access to his hand pump as well as Frank’s. Although he didn’t have any printouts on rain catchment systems, he showed them the basic set up he had at the greenhouse. He explained about water heaters, pressure tanks and water lines. The three kids were pleased when Bill volunteered them to show anyone how to drain their lines that needed the help. The show of faith was a great morale booster. Mark already seemed more confident than he had that morning and he Brad and Amanda were hitting it off very well.
Before the neighbors left for home, Bill asked them something else. “Are any of you familiar with the rule of three’s?” When no one said they knew what that was, he told them “In a nutshell, it goes like this: in extreme conditions you can’t survive more than three minutes without air, three hours without shelter, three days without water and three weeks without food. We are here talking about water now, so for the time being, we are fine with the first two. But with winter coming on, that could change. I encourage everyone to be willing to tell someone if you need help and be ready to help your neighbor out. We might not have the answers and resources to cope with everything on our own, but working together we can do much better.”
Every one left except for Mrs. Williams and a large man with her that Bill surmised must be her husband. The man came up to Bill and introduced himself as Mike Williams. “Mr. Moser, I’m very grateful to you for what you did for us today. I guess we aren’t very well set up for not having electricity.”
“Call me Bill. Most people aren’t set up right for this. Those bas, er, excuse me, those people knew how to hurt us and did a mighty fine job of it. This is hurting a lot more people than taking the towers down.
“That’s a good boy you have there, he’s a real quick study,” he continued. “He was good help today. The kids said they got your lines drained and a lot of water available to you. It was a good exercise for them to go through, working it together.
“If you have any other problems, you just have to ask. I meant what I said to the group. If we help each other out, it will be better for everyone.” Bill noticed the kids had been gone for some time. When he looked around, they came out of the goat barn, Mark carrying the milk bucket.
“We let him gather the eggs and taught him how to milk,” Amanda said when she saw the adults watching. “He even got some of the milk in the bucket”. All three busted out laughing at that. Must have been pretty funny, Bill thought. I guess you had to be there. It always was interesting when someone tried milking for the first time. Amanda led the way into the house, the boys following her. A few minutes later they came back out carrying a Mason jar full of fresh milk and a carton of eggs.
“I’m giving Mark the milk and eggs so he can learn what real food tastes like,” Amanda said. “Of course he’ll probably be like everyone that’s used to the tasteless store stuff and think something is wrong with it.”
That’s hilarious, since she doesn’t exactly like the milk and the eggs have to be scrambled just right. “So did you tell him about keeping the milk cool and not shaking it?”
“Of course I told him,” Amanda stated. “He said he’ll put it on the garage floor by the door. The cement is pretty cold there in the shade.”
As Bill walked the Williams family to the gate, he told them he planned on canning some of the stuff from his freezer the next day so it wouldn’t go bad. Leslie was very interested in learning the procedure and they made plans for her and Mark to join them. Bill bid them goodbye at the gate and wondered how many other people were out there without water, and how many were going to get sick from drinking whatever water was available. It was a very sobering thought.
|
|
|
Post by bretf on Jun 29, 2016 3:02:42 GMT
Chapter 20: Diamond and Stone
Now the face that I see in my mirror More and more is a stranger to me More and more I can see there's a danger In becoming what I never thought I'd be
Some days are diamonds some days are stones Sometimes the hard times won't leave me alone Sometimes a cold wind blows a chill in my bones Some days are diamonds some days are stones
“Diamond and Stone” Performed by John Denver Written by Dick Feller
Following breakfast, Bill pedaled his bicycle to his parent’s house to make sure everything was going fine. A cold drizzle of rain was falling, with some snow mixed in. As he snugged his coat tighter around his neck he wondered how the neighborhood would deal with the cold. A number of them had wood stoves and well stocked wood piles, but there were more that didn’t.
He had listened to the limited news coverage before he left the house. It was more of the same with some new bad news sprinkled in. No answers on the power problem. Oil refineries had been destroyed or were burning out of control. Food warehouses were destroyed; distribution was becoming a problem; some trucks had been hijacked. Big cities were in turmoil. There were reports of outbreaks of typhoid and cholera in many areas. Great, now water borne diseases are going to run rampant. Was it only yesterday that I stood at the gate and considered people getting sick from tainted water and it’s here already? I wonder what’s next. He hadn’t even waited for the rest of the family to get out of bed before shutting the radio off.
Bob’s pickup had been parked at the folk’s house the previous day and Bill made the assumption Bob would take care of anything that arose. If not for their age, he knew his parents could cope with the situation better than anyone else he knew. Their modest upbringings were deeply ingrained in them. Both of their families had to struggle during the depression.
“How’re your freezers holding up?” he asked after he had exchanged greetings with his parents. “I see water dripping from my doors, so I’m going to start canning the stuff in mine today. The cool temperatures aren’t enough to keep everything frozen.”
“We ran the generator for a while yesterday and got everything cold again. We also ran the pump for a while. The hot shower felt pretty good. But I think we’ll hold off on canning anything and run the generator a while each day. If we don’t get power in a few days, then I guess we’ll have to take care of everything in the freezers that we can.”
“I know you’re nervous about pressure canners, but they don’t blow up now days. All of mine have blow-out valves in case the pressure gets too high. So if, no, when you decide to can the stuff, we can do it without that worry,” Bill told them. “Besides, you saw how they did with the elk. They’re safe as can be as long as you monitor them.”
“We’ll hold on for a while longer. I don’t want to run the generator forever though. Let’s just see what happens in the next few days,” Cal replied. He had used a pressure canner a few times in the past; it was Bill’s mom that was afraid to use one.
“Do you need anything else? It’s looked like Bob has been around a lot.” Bill noticed his mom was quieter and more pale than normal. Probably another reason Dad doesn’t want to empty the freezers right away. I wonder if she’s going to tell us what’s wrong. He knew Bob took her to regular doctor appointments but whatever was wrong, she was keeping it secret from the rest of the family.
“No, we’re not helpless yet, and Bob has been taking care of anything we can’t do. Alan is going to set us up with a battery charger and one of his radios today. He said he was going to get one to you too. Then we can call if something comes up.”
“That’s a good idea. Well, I better get back down there and get started. It’s going to be a lot of work to get everything done.” As he went home, the rain was falling harder; the temperature hovering just above freezing. I think I’m going to appreciate keeping the stove hot today.
The kids, with help from Mark were carrying boxes of clean Mason jars into the house when Bill parked his bicycle. Bill left them to the jars and got his propane camp stove off the shelf and took it to the kitchen. Leslie was in the house getting acquainted with Amy and Frances. He overheard them talking about home-school curriculum before he went back outside.
After setting up the propane camp stove, Bill brought in a box of pork chops and roasts and laid the packages out on the counter. He planned to cut the bones out of all the chops, further trim away any fat and then can the meat in the same method he had done the elk meat. With the wood stove burning hot, his plan was to bring the canners to pressure on the propane stove then switch to the wood stove for the long processing. That ought to be fun to maintain proper pressure. Everyone jumped in to help and soon they had two canners on the wood stove and two more ready to go on.
Lunch was green beans from the freezer, a small fresh salad and fried pork bones, the remaining meat coming off easily after they were cooked. Amanda had taken Mark and Leslie to the greenhouse and picked some fresh greens and radishes while she showed them what was growing.
After lunch, they continued canning, including the bacon. A document was in the canning book Bill had printed from ‘Backwoods Home Magazine’; “Canned Bacon Roll Your Own” by Enola Gay. It stepped them through a process the author had used successfully.
He laid out a strip of parchment paper eighteen inches long on the counter and placed the strips of bacon side by side on the paper. Another strip of paper was put on the top and the stack was folded in half the long way. He rolled it as tight as he could and it just slid into a wide mouth jar. After putting the lids on the jars, he filled the canner and started it heating. After rechecking his paperwork, he set the timer for ninety minutes when the canner had reached twelve pounds of pressure. The smell upon opening the canner reminded Bill of opening a can of Spam. I’m okay with Spam but I sure like fresh bacon better. But it definitely beats losing it all.
“I wish we had a wood stove,” Leslie said, looking longingly at the stove with the canners sitting on it.
“What do you have for heat?” Amy asked her.
“Without power, we don’t have any heat. We’ve just been wearing more and more clothes as it’s gotten colder.”
“What about cooking, how do you do that?” Amy continued her inquiry.
“We have been using a little camping stove my dad gave me a long time ago. But it’s about out of fuel. I don’t know what we will do after that.”
“Bill,” Amy said, “Are you hearing this? We’ve got to help them. They can’t go through winter without heat or cooking.”
“Oh no,” Leslie said. “I didn’t tell you that to give you more work to do. We’ll get by. It just won’t be like we’re at a five star hotel. There’s no need to trouble yourselves.”
“Nonsense!” answered Amy. “Bill is good at things like that and will be glad to help, right Bill?”
Bill remembered one of the den leaders from scouts telling how his wife had “volunt-ordered” him as the new leader and looked up from the meat he was trimming to the women and told Amy, “Yes Dear.” But I really will be glad to help.
*****
After looking over the William’s home the following day, Bill showed a folder to them. It contained everything he had gathered on rocket stove mass heaters. ‘’Look this over,” Bill told them. “These are called ‘Rocket Stove Mass Heaters. The whole thing can be built right here in place. The way these stoves work, it will actually burn a lot less wood than my regular wood stove. It burns hot and intense and it burns off the pollutant gases. Then when the heated air goes through the mass portion, it heats it and retains the heat for hours.
After going through all of the information, Mike said, “This looks good, but I don’t have any of this stuff.”
“I have what we need,” Bill answered, “Except for the cob mass; we’ll have to make that. We’ll make it by mixing sand, clay and straw. We’ll also put in a lot of river rock. They make great heat reservoirs.” He pointed to one picture. “If we do one like this you can use this surface for cooking as well as heating the house. It won’t be like your electric kitchen stove, but with practice, you’ll figure it out.”
“Well, I just don’t know how I could pay you for everything. I don’t have money now that electronic banking doesn’t work.”
“You were at my place the other night. I meant what I said about working together and helping each other out. I’m not asking for payment, but I may ask you for help now and then. Besides, I’ve been intrigued by these things since I first learned about them. I’ve made a small one in my chicken house and another in my greenhouse, but it’s not quite the same. I WANT to build one and monitor it and see just how much wood it goes through in a winter. My stove can be quite a wood hog so I really want to compare it to one of these, and I can’t think of a better place to build it. So shall we get started?”
Bill recognized that Mike and Leslie wanted to talk about everything so he took Mark aside, giving them privacy to discuss the situation. “Do you have any extra blankets, or are you using them all? If you had more you could put them over the windows to help insulate against the cold.”
“We might have more, but I think we’re using all we have. We even brought in the sleeping bags and have them on the beds now.”
Mike and Leslie had finished their discussion and Mike cleared his throat and told Bill, “We can start whenever you want, Bill. I’m just so grateful to you, that I’ll work totally on your schedule.”
“Then let’s get going on it. I really have wanted to build one of these and see how well it works ever since I found them on the net. Our living room is kind of small for it and we already have the stove, but yours will be perfect and I do want to see a house heater. But I can tell you that the two small ones I have are great.”
They went back to Bill’s house and Bill managed to suppress his excitement – slightly – while he showed them the smaller working models he used in the chicken house and greenhouse. Mike was impressed with the warmth each still held in the mass and while it was a far cry from his chosen work with computers, he could see Bill’s reasons for wanting to build a larger model. The two men went to gather material while Mark and Leslie excused themselves, mentioning schoolwork. They went into Bill’s house and soon Leslie and Amy had all three kids at the table with open books in front of them. Frances was not to be seen. She had been up through the night continuing the canning process. Everything was in jars just waiting to be processed when the rest of the family had retired for the night. Frances was used to staying up much later and getting up later than the rest so she could stay more alert through the night than anyone else. It was also a help to her when Brad and Amanda each took their turns getting up and heating the little chicken house. The final canner load was currently on the stove.
The garden cart and wheelbarrow were loaded with fire brick, a metal tank and stove pipe. A barrel was rolled to the front of the garage and Bill got a hammer and cold chisel and handed them to Mike. “The end needs cut out of this first, and then we’ll burn a fire in it out here to cook the paint off. We don’t want those fumes in your house.”
Mike wasn’t sure how to start, so Bill got him going; stressing that it was hard on the knuckles if he missed the head of the chisel. At least I sure didn’t like hitting my hand the last time I cut the end out of a barrel. With Mike pounding away, Bill found a bag of perlite and added it to the load. Once the top was off the barrel and a fire roaring inside, Bill went to the house. He requested that the school lessons be done for the day; he wanted the kids to go the neighbor’s homes that didn’t have obvious heat and invite them to see the heater being built. He also wanted the kids to participate in the construction.
Both moms agreed so the kids headed one direction while Bill and Mike went the other. Over the next few hours a few neighbors came in and watched and looked over Bill’s information and plans. After getting things in motion, Bill encouraged Mike and the kids to do most of the work. I’ve already build the small ones, and there’s nothing like actually doing the work.
With the rocket stove and stove pipe in place and ready for the mass, they took Bills pickup and wheelbarrow and drove to a spot along the irrigation canal where they could access a clay bank. They got what they thought was enough clay, added one more wheel barrow load for good measure, then went to a sand deposit and got an equal amount of sand. Back at Bill’s house, they wheeled out a large amount of the accumulated rock that had come from the garden over time. Well, here’s a use for some of those dang rocks. They added some straw and returned to Mike’s house. The kids had a great time mixing the cob while the men put the rocks in the forms, packing them with cob.
The kids took over packing the cob as well as mixing it, freeing the men. They returned to the canal and cut a dead cottonwood tree and hauled it to Mike’s house where they cut and split the wood to fit the firebox. On the third day of work, Mike struck the match for the first fire. The house was soon warming up and the pot of water on top was quickly warm enough for everyone to clean up. The cob would take some time to dry completely but would store a lot of heat in the meantime. Amy and Frances surprised everyone by bringing a meal they had prepared in celebration.
As Bill’s family was making their exit for home Leslie hugged Amy and Bill her eyes red and swollen. “I just don’t know how to thank you. This means so much and we can never repay what you have done for us.”
Bill and Amy both assured them no repayment was necessary. “Like we told you before, friends help each other out. You’ll have your chance.” And they bid goodbye for the night.
During the night, the temperature dropped sharply. Maggie’s whines woke Bill at some time and he rose up, glanced reflexively towards the dark clock then felt for the dog and patted her. She continued to whine, so he got up and looked around and then looked out the window. A yellow glow filled the sky down the street. Dressing quickly, Bill woke Amy, told her what was happening and hurried out of the house. A neighbor’s house was fully engulfed in flame. Thank you God that it’s not Mike’s house. Then after he reflected on his own thoughts; I’m sorry God; I was thinking of myself and helping build that heat system, maybe being responsible for a house fire. Please forgive me. I ask for the safety and well-being of the people that live there.
People were standing in the yard watching the house being consumed by the flames. The man that was watching all of his possessions being destroyed told Bill in halting sentences what had happened. Once it got too cold, they built a fire in their garage to try to get warm. After they fell asleep, something in the garage, they weren’t sure what, had ignited and the fire spread. They had gotten out with the clothes they wore, nothing more. The clothes and the car they had moved outside to start the fire. Without phones and 911, no fire department could be called and the house was a total loss.
They decided they would go to the woman’s parent’s house; that is if they still had enough gas in the car. Bill noticed his kids and Mark standing in the background watching the flames. He walked over to them and told them something and they jogged away down the road. They returned a few minutes later with a full gas can on the hand truck. Bill emptied the can into the tank of the car that had been just out of reach of the flames before neighbors had pushed it into the road. Devastated, the couple drove away at daybreak to go to the woman’s parent’s house.
Following the fire, the story of Mike and Leslie’s new heat system spread and a number of neighbors were soon asking for Bill’s help. He had two wood stoves in his piles; one that had previously been in his house and another that had been given to him. Sometimes he was as bad as his dad about getting rid of something once he had it, much to Amy’s annoyance. Both stoves were given away and set up in homes that already had triple wall chimney through the ceiling and attic; they had taken out the wood stoves because of the extra work and mess. Six more rocket stove mass heaters were put together. Two houses on the street were left without heat. The occupants of each were moving into the homes of other family members to weather the crisis. The pile of stove pipe and accessories Bill had purchased shrunk rapidly, but it was satisfying to see that everyone wouldn’t freeze over the winter.
*****
The news seemed to be the same each day, so Bill’s radio was turned on less and less. One day, though, there was something new. Three full weeks after the lights had gone dark, little food was available at the grocery stores and what was available could only be acquired with cash. And cash was a very rare item since so many people relied on electronic banking. The government had long had a commodity food program. They were now going to make that available to the general public. The state had been able to print out the information from all of the citizens that were in the tax records or had previously received state aid. Distribution outlets were relayed to the populace by the lone radio station working in the area. No mention was made how they were getting the information out in other areas.
I’m not taking their hand-outs! I’m doing fine. As Bill made up his mind that he wouldn’t get his family’s allotment, he nearly tripped over a box Amy had filled to send to the Williams household. They had been sending food over since Leslie had helped them with the canning. They also gave stored food to some other ill-prepared neighbors. While not wanting any of the commodity food himself, he saw the effect feeding extra mouths was already having on his shelves. Maybe I shouldn’t be so stinking prideful. And I think it’s time I just have two meals a day. After a short prayer he decided he would take Frances and get what he could and hold it for anyone that came to him needing food. It still bothered him – a lot - to accept government assistance but he had to think about more than just himself. The nearest distribution would be the following day at the nearby Winco store.
With the wagon dragging along, Bill, Amanda and Frances walked first to the Williams house where they were joined by Mike and Mark for the walk. Bill had considered slipping his pistol in his pocket but decided against it. Really, the food isn’t worth anyone getting shot over, but I don’t want to see any innocents hurt either. Instead they would be in a large group, relying on safety by numbers. Bob fell in with them when they got to his parent’s house, and they were soon joined by Alan and Jim.
It was a welcome sight, at least to Bill, to see the National Guard vehicles surrounding the semi-trucks. A long line of people were already waiting, so Bill’s group fell in with them, waiting their turn. It appeared that most of the people had walked in, although a few vehicles were parked nearby. Most gas tanks must be getting pretty low by now. Once they were being helped, Frances was able to get on the list with Bill’s family. She had placed a file box in her car at Las Vegas that contained all her important papers, including tax returns. A mobile generator was running nearby, a clerk entering all of Frances’ information into a laptop computer.
The whole process ran smoothly but there were problems to iron out. Even with the problems, most everyone present was thankful to receive the food and they were very appreciative. The only complaints Bill heard were from some people that looked like they were having tough withdrawal symptoms as well as a lack of wash water and soap. Those types would need to be watched out for, especially by people that didn’t appear as formidable as Bill’s group. The food distributions were planned for every two weeks at the same locations. I just hope and pray each distribution can run this well.
They made the trip back towards home, parting with Alan, Jim and Bob, and then walked on towards the Williams house. At the last pasture before Mike’s home, a large wild rose was growing along the fence row. Bill asked Mike how they were set up for vitamins. Mike answered that he thought they were out, so Bill pulled a rose hip and began to tell Mike and Mark of all the vitamin C they contained and how he prepared them as a tea. Frances looked on and listened intently. Amanda had been picking rose hips and drinking rose hip tea for years so she took the handle of the wagon and continued on to home.
“I take dried hips and put them in a pot of water that has boiled and let it steep for ten to fifteen minutes. Then I drink it. With your new heat system, you could lay a bunch of these out on a cookie sheet above the stove and they’ll dry pretty quick.” He then pointed out a nearby pine tree and told of its use for tea. “Take a clump of clean pine needles and put them in a mug of just-boiled water. Let it steep until the needles start to turn a lighter shade. Although I prefer the rose hips, the needles make a refreshing, vitamin C rich tea too. Don’t boil the water with the hips or needles in it. Vitamin C is heat sensitive, so use water that is just coming off a boil. You can also add a little honey or lemon juice if you have it.” He knew Amy had sent over a couple of jars of that summer’s honey. “That’s just a little sample of nature’s vitamin store that drug companies wish none of us knew about.” Mark stated that he would come back with a bag and pick some of the hips and start using them right away.
The rest of the day was spent canning again. Cal had decided it was time to take care of his freezer’s contents. Alan and his boys had taken care of theirs the previous week. Carla had brought out boxes from her freezer and Bill and Amy had helped her get everything canned she wanted to save.
As they sat at the table for dinner, Bill thanked the Lord not only for the food they were receiving, but for the populace being fed. He knew that desperate people resorted to desperate means. The activity in the large cities was a testament to that. At least for the time being, the people in his area were fed and somewhat content despite the troubles. He prayed that society could hold together and not deteriorate further. “Please Lord, don’t allow the terrorists to be the victors here!”
|
|
|
Post by bretf on Jun 30, 2016 2:35:43 GMT
Chapter 21: Get Me Through December
How pale is the sky that brings forth the rain As the changing of seasons prepares me again For the long bitter nights and the wild winter's day My heart has grown cold my love stored away My heart has grown cold my love stored away.
I've been to the mountain left my tracks in the snow Where souls have been lost and the walking wounded go I've taken the pain no girl should endure But faith can move mountains Faith can move mountains of that I am sure.
Just get me through December A promise I'll remember Get me through December So I can start again.
“Get me through December” Performed by Alison Kraus Written by Gordie Sampson and Fred Lavery
The approaching Thanksgiving Day would mark a full month without power and no end in sight. Bob no longer went to his own house. The daily strain was showing on their parents. Bob decided the time had come they shouldn’t be alone. He had moved everything important to his parent’s house and once again occupied the bedroom of his youth. The family had helped him load what he was taking for the move. It was ironic the marks of the modern world that were left in place while they made sure to empty the wood shed. Carla and her husband had also left their home and moved in with their daughter Mellissa, having all four Moser siblings on the same street again.
Bill’s mother’s health problems were still being kept secret, but Bill could see her weakening each time he visited. He encouraged Amanda and Brad to see her often; playing the fiddle, guitar and mandolin for her. She had always loved to hear the kids play; she rarely failed to tell her friends about Amanda competing in the National Old Time Fiddle Contest; beaming with pride when Brad was finally accomplished enough to accompany her. Although she never wanted her picture taken, Bill made sure there were charged batteries in the cameras and got as many photos and short videos of her with the kids as she would allow. Someday the kids could look at those and cherish the special time they had with Grandma.
Each day Amanda and Brad picked up their school packs and went to the Williams house. Leslie, with Amy’s support, wasn’t one to let education lag just because of a power outage. After the first week, six more neighbor kids began joining them. Most days, Amy went with the kids to help Leslie out. One morning after gathering up their packs, Amanda and Brad picked up their instrument cases. At Bill’s questioning look, Amanda told him, “Well, music education is important too. Mrs. Williams is going to include it and wanted to see what we could do. She is thinking of some songs that everyone can participate in.” They seemed happy about working on something new, instead of the same old songs.
*****
While they were working on fitting a third pickup with a gasifier unit with their Dad, Bob and Bill were discussing Thanksgiving dinner. Despite the problems, they wanted to make the day as normal as possible. They had canned the turkeys that had begun to thaw in the freezers so there would be no whole roast turkey for dinner. Chickens were available but they were so small and well, they were a common item on the table. There were wild turkeys around Bob’s cabin; they were smaller and tougher than domestic birds, and it was a long drive. And there was a huge wild goose population in the valley. The geese stayed year round, riling golfers and park users with all of their excrement as they grazed. Bill always chuckled at the newspaper stories covering the problem. Right next to a story about how the geese messed up a golf course would be a story that the food bank was running low and needed extra donations. He instantly saw a solution to both problems, but the powers that be never put the two together. When the temperatures dropped, the easy food dwindled and the geese started flying to surrounding fields to forage. The field behind Bill’s pasture was a popular feeding area for them in the winter. The brothers decided upon goose, if the geese would just cooperate and come in to the close fields. He had seen numerous flocks go over; they just hadn’t landed in the right places as yet.
The following morning as Bill was going to his parents to work on the gasifier, he heard a welcome sound. A flock of geese was coming in and set their wings to land behind the Williams house. He turned around to go back and see if they would be in range. As he walked by a neighbor’s house the door opened and a distraught man walked out and called to him. “Bill,” he said in a very shaky voice. “Could you come here? I don’t know what to do.” Bill could barely make out the words.
Puzzled at Martin’s state, Bill turned and went to the house. Up close, Bill could see Martin shaking. “What is it Martin? What’s wrong?”
Rather than answer, Martin sobbed and turned back to the door and entered the house. Even more puzzled, Bill followed, having a hard time seeing in the dark house. I’d like to open some curtains and get some light in here. He followed down the dark hall to a bedroom door, just slightly lighter. The odors that assailed his nostrils warned him instantly that something was amiss. He pulled off his gloves and fished his flashlight out of his pocket and shined it around the room. Martin was slumped over the bed, his hands grasping the white hand of his wife, sobbing uncontrollably. Bill directed the light to her face and studied her; she wasn’t breathing. He reached out to her other arm; it was cold and stiff. Trying to sort everything out in his mind, Bill reached out for Martin’s shoulder. “What happened Martin?”
“She ran out of insulin. We just couldn’t get anymore. The drugstores that are running either don’t have any or wouldn’t sell it. The hospitals are out.” At the end, it was hard for Bill to understand through the sobs.
“Wow Martin, that’s tough. I’m so sorry for your loss. Coleen was such a wonderful woman and I just loved to hear her Irish accent.”
Martin sniffled and raised his head slightly, “Yes my Irish lass. She always said her father was quite the joker, God rest his soul, to name her Coleen. She told me that if I ever found another woman she would have to be an Australian named Sheila.”
“I really enjoyed hearing her sing the old folk songs,” Bill said. “I especially liked to hear her singing Will you go Lassie and the Fields of Athenry. I could feel the pain in her voice as she sang of the prison ship leaving.”
“When she sang that song, it reminded her of her own leaving home and that she never saw her grandparents again. It was painful to her but she never wanted to forget.”
After a few minutes of quiet Bill asked, “What do you want to do Martin? I’ll help you with anything you want.”
Martin turned his tear streaked face to Bill, his words coming out in hiccups as he talked. “She . . . loved her . . . rose bushes. . . . I want to . . . put her beneath . . . them.”
“We can do that. Why don’t I get Amy and she and her sister can prepare Coleen for burial. I’ll get some tools to dig with.” Martin didn’t answer or look up when Bill stood up straight and left the room.
At home, Bill told the women about Coleen and asked them if they would prepare her. Although reluctant they agreed to do it. He radioed Bob to inform him what was going on, then radioed Mike’s house to speak with Amanda. Leslie told him, “Amanda and Mark said they were working on a surprise and would be back later. Do you want to talk to Brad?”
“No, I’ll just tell you. Coleen Jones passed away last night. We’re going to lay her to rest in her back yard. Let’s plan on services in four hours. Can you and your group spread the word please?”
“Sure, we can do that. Do you need anything else?”
“I could probably use some help digging, and Martin needs a shoulder to lean on right now. Amy and Frances are going to prepare Coleen.”
“Okay, I’ll see what we can do”, Leslie finished and Bill left to get his shovel, pick and digging bar.
It wasn’t long before first Bob and then Mike joined Bill and the three men took turns digging. Why can’t my ground be as free of rocks as this Bill thought as he took a break and sipped at a bottle of water.
“Hey Dad, surprise!” two voices said at once. The men all looked up to see Amanda and Mark come around the house, each one carrying two geese by the neck in one hand and a twenty two rifle in the other. “You know we’ve been practicing shooting and like just before school started we saw those geese fly in and decided they would make a good Thanksgiving dinner. We snuck up the drain ditch until we were like really close and crawled into a bush where we were hid and could still shoot. We did just like you taught me; we had a solid rest and breathed even and squeezed the trigger real soft. We shot together at some geese standing on the sides. After the second time they flew. I’m glad you put the scopes on. We made head shots. And yes, we made sure it was safe behind them so the bullets wouldn’t hurt anything else.” Amanda finished in a rush, looking nervously at the men.
Amazed at what he had just heard, Bill was nonetheless slightly irritated she had taken the guns without telling him, but proud of her initiative. Besides the fact with his weakening eyesight, she was now a better shot than he was. How to proceed here? “I’m proud of you for seeing an opportunity and taking care of it, but there are rules about the guns. You need to remember and follow them. We’ll discuss it later, alright? Now you need to make sure the rifles aren’t loaded and clean them. And you need to get the birds taken care of too.” She and Mark started walking away, some of the elation gone from their steps when Bill, unable to keep the proud smile off his face said, “Oh Amanda, Mark, good job.” The two started going again, buoyed by Bill’s final comment. That’s pretty cool. Hopefully Amy’s too occupied to chew her out.
*****
The burial ceremony was short; a nice prayer given by Mike and the kids played Irish Washerwoman in honor of Coleen’s heritage. The neighbors told their favorite memories of Coleen, and Mike closed with another prayer.
“Is there anything at all you need Martin, or anything else we can do for you?” Bill asked.
“No, there’s nothing anybody can do for me now,” Martin rasped as tears began to flow again.
“Just let us know if anything comes up, anything at all. And we want you to come to dinner tomorrow at my parent’s house. We’ll eat around one o’clock. We’re going to have a traditional Thanksgiving dinner, complete with roast goose and all the trimmings.”
Martin was non-committal as he walked into the back door of the house. Bill and his family returned home quietly. Just like that, without modern conveniences, Coleen is gone. I wonder how many people we are losing like that. The numbers have to be staggering with all of the diabetics, dialysis, heart problems and God only knows what other ailments. And then there’re all the people in hospitals and nursing homes.
Dear Lord, I ask you to welcome Coleen to you. As you know, she was a fine woman. And I ask for your mercy on us as more run out of their medication. As he mused, he took Amy’s hand and squeezed tightly.
At home, he took Amanda out to his shop to talk. “I am amazed at you two for going and getting the geese. It was a great thing to do. My only problem with it is that I didn’t know. Well, and I would have loved to watch. I have full confidence in your abilities and you always follow all safety rules. I just need to know if you are going hunting and where you are going.” He tried to be stern, but he was so proud of her it was tough to keep the look on his face.
“I know Dad. I just like, wanted to surprise you. I know you were thinking about getting some geese. And you are always like working on something, so that’s why we did it.”
“Okay, just make sure you tell me from now on. I also think you need to dust off your bow and practice with it as well as the twenty-two. I think it would be a good supplement to your school work. But you need to make sure the other kids have the okay from their parents.” Amanda and Brad had taken archery in their 4H club. The major stress in the club had been safety and Bill had watched them teach other neighbor kids to shoot, always making safety the top priority. He pulled her into a hug as he said, “You did well”. I’ll have to remember to tell Leslie and Amy and make sure the target and the distance markers are up. Bill thought about the 4H instructor the kids had. Bruce had served the country proudly in Afghanistan and bore the scars and damaged arm as souvenirs. Lord, I don’t know where Bruce is now or how his family ids doing. But I know he is your faithful servant and ask you to watch over them in this crisis. Amen. Once Bruce had healed from his wound he had become dedicate to teaching the young.
Bill shook himself from his thoughts and looked at his daughter. “So do you feel up to a bike ride?” Bill asked.
“I don’t know; where do you want to go?”
“Well, it looks like you might have an extra goose there, and you haven’t seen Mandy since Halloween. Maybe we could ride over there and take them some things.”
Amanda’s response was a happy squealing “Oh Dad, let’s go!” as she gave him a quick hug and went to get her bike. Bill had to take a few moments for his ears to adjust from the loud, high squeal.
He chuckled at her reaction and got his own bike lined out and the trailer hooked to it. While Amanda wrapped the goose in a plastic bag Bill filled other bags with potatoes, onions, carrots and apples and placed them in the trailer. Amanda was back; barely able to stand still. “You sure are fidgety, girl. Do you need to use the bathroom before we go?” Bill asked, smiling at Amanda.
“Dad”, she drew the word out, sounding like there were about four “a”s in it. “I just want see Mandy. Can’t you move any faster?”
“Okay, why don’t you go pick a fresh salad to take along while I finish up here?”
While she did that he filled water bottles and told Amy what they were doing and asked if anyone else wanted to go along. They all declined. Bill went to the gun cabinet and took Amanda’s preferred twenty two rifle out and put a handful of shells in his pocket. They might see more geese on the ride, and the presence of the rifle might deter any people that showed too great a curiosity about what was in the trailer.
Riding home again in near darkness, Bill reflected on the visit, only half hearing Amanda while she jabbered on about how good it was to see Mandy again. The girls had gone to Mandy’s bedroom while Bill sat at the kitchen table with her parents. Their gratitude at receiving the food was deep and sincere. They were getting by on the government commodities, but that was about it. The press had often run stories about the obesity problem in America; well, it looked like that was one problem the nation wouldn’t be facing for any time soon.
Water was at a premium in the subdivisions. What was provided was barely enough for drinking and cooking with little left over for cleaning. Sanitation could cause a problem once the weather warmed up. Most homes were also without heat; people slept huddled in groups with as many blankets as they had available. The problems were big; Bill knew he couldn’t help them all. He would have to discuss with Amy and see if they could at least come up with a solution to help Mandy’s family. While Amanda rattled on nearly euphoric after the visit, Bill’s spirits sunk ever deeper thinking about all of the suffering people.
*****
The kitchen was a happy, busy room as the Thanksgiving meal was prepared and cooked. The oven of the cook stove was in constant use, roasting the goose, dressing and rolls. The previous day it had been used to bake pies. The goose was accompanied by mashed potatoes and gravy, sweet potatoes, canned green beans and fresh salad. Two quart jars of turkey were also opened. You can’t have Thanksgiving without turkey, can you? Bill’s pantry had yielded cans of cranberry sauce and olives. It was very close to their traditional dinner.
They were joined by the Williams family but Bill noted the absence of Martin. I hope he is coping all right. Maybe I can take him a plate after we eat. Carla’s daughter Mellissa lamented the absence of football. “It can’t be Thanksgiving without football. How can I root for someone to beat the Cowboys?”
Although the outside air was crisp, the sun was shining bright in a clear blue sky; perfect for burning off the meal with some outdoor activity. “How about after we eat, we go have our own game, since you will also miss your other favorite Thanksgiving activity?” Bob asked.
Mellissa groaned, “That really bits, you know! Black Friday was the best!” She usually spent her time after dinner going through the advertisements, planning her midnight shopping trip, at least when she wasn’t napping. “Well, I guess we might as well play some ball, but I’d sure rather watch a game with a couple of glasses of wine,” she said in a pouting tone.
When they asked the blessing, Bill was introspective, thinking over the circumstances, they truly did have much to be thankful for. He guessed they were much better off than most of the residents of the United States. They were warm and prepared for winter. They had plenty of food and good water, even if they had to work for it now. They were mostly healthy, although he could see the drained, exhausted features of his mother deepening daily. Yes they had much to be thankful for. He was still deep in thought when he heard the family say “Amen”.
After the meal was cleaned up, the younger family members located a football and lugged lawn chairs and blankets to the pasture. The older family members sat on the side and cheered for every play. It wasn’t the Cowboys, but it was football of a sort. Most importantly, it was fun.
After a little bit of the game, Bill excused himself and went into the house and prepared a plate for Martin. As he waited for the food to warm in the cook stove oven, he wished for a working microwave. Yes, we’re getting by, probably better than most, but wow, I miss the conveniences we had. He would deliver the plate and do his chores on the same trip. I not only miss the microwave, but I really miss the heated water dishes for the goats, heifer, and chickens. Without electricity keeping the water thawed, he was taking a hot tea kettle to pour over the ice water numerous times per day. And he thought the one cow drank as much as all the goats combined.
He made the short walk to Martin’s house and knocked on the front door. After there wasn’t an answer he knocked much louder. Still not getting a response he went to the back yard. It looked as they had left it the previous day, the fresh dirt at the gravesite with a hand lettered wooden cross at its head. He knocked on the back door and was greeted by more silence. After pounding and getting the same result, he tried the knob. It was unlocked so he opened the door and stepped inside, standing in place behind the closed door while his eyes adjusted to the near darkness. He called out to Martin and walked to the kitchen and set the plate on the table. Still not getting an answer, he looked through the house but didn’t locate Martin.
Opening the door to the attached garage, Bill stepped in. “Oh Martin,” he whispered. Martin was hanging from a rope that had been tied to a support beam, his face a purplish-red and bloated with his tongue sticking out; a kicked over ladder near his feet. “Oh Martin, we would have helped you, but I guess we couldn’t replace Coleen.” He took the FRS radio from his belt and called to Bob to come down and went to the bedroom and got a blanket to wrap Martin in. Once Bob arrived they lowered the body gently to the floor and wrapped him up.
“I guess the crash and loss of his wife was just too much for him,” Bob said. “Did they have any kids?”
“No, they weren’t able to have any and Coleen didn’t want to adopt. Most of her family has passed away; Martin never talked about his family.”
They left the blanket wrapped body on the floor and made plans to come back in the morning for another funeral. No need to mess up Thanksgiving for everyone else. Yes, they really did have much to be thankful for; but the same certainly could not be said for everyone.
*****
Following Thanksgiving they fell deeper into their established routines. The kids did school work five days a week, accompanied by shooting practice when the weather was good. Amy tried to provide a nutritious snack each day to the gathering, concerned that some of the kids weren’t eating enough. Pots of pine needle tea were served each day. Amanda soon had most of the kids trained well enough with the bow that they at least wouldn’t put an accidental arrow in each other. Leslie started the school sessions later to allow the older kids time to hunt many mornings. She appreciated the geese they brought in as an addition to the government commodity food. Many days the hunting was good enough they were able to share with other neighbors. After seeing the despair Martin had fallen into, Leslie made it a point to have the kids visit with the elderly. The kids would play music, sing songs and most importantly, ask subtle questions about their needs. It was amazing how the elderly would talk more openly with the youngsters. Soon the visits included pulling wagons with filled water jugs, eggs and root crops from Bill’s root cellar.
Alan arranged a trip to the canal where they cut the remaining dead cottonwood trees. After the wood was cut and split it was distributed to the people most in need. It wasn’t enough to keep roaring fires constantly but they wouldn’t freeze if they used it wisely.
The last gasifier was soon running on the pickups. It was a good thing Cal had filled the gas barrel; they ran the generator many hours when welding the pieces together. Bob took the last one on a long test drive, accompanied by Alan’s sons Jim and Ken. When they finally returned many hours later – after most of the family had stressed about going to look for them – there was a bull elk in the back. After hanging over night, they cut and wrapped it and distributed it to the neighbors with “Merry Christmas” written on the top. The hide was salted and rolled tight with the plan to attempt tanning it later.
The weather was cool with some rain and occasional snowfall. The morning there was enough snow that Amanda used her cross country skis to get to Leslie’s house; Leslie decided to have ski lessons instead of book lessons. Amanda and Brad went back home and found every cross country shoe, ski and pole they had and got everything Alan had. Prior to the crash Alan had spent most Saturdays scouring yard sales. He had more ski equipment than his grandkids would ever use. The reaction of the students convinced Leslie and Amy it was the right decision. The kids had a wonderful time, barley stopping for the hot chocolate the ladies brewed.
The greenhouse and hoop house required little care with the low temperatures but Bill and Amy made sure to go in them at the warmest part of each day. They packed water when necessary and harvested enough fresh greens daily for their table and the parent’s table. They shared some around but there wasn’t a lot to spare.
Mischief was dried off, to give her the rest of the winter to recoup while her kids grew inside her. Bill regretted not having fresh milk. He had separated the goats for breeding so he could stagger their kidding period. The next winter he could stay in fresh milk while giving each one time off before kidding. The young chicks had feathered out enough that he quit heating their house. While the egg production had dropped dramatically with the short daylight hours, he had enough young pullets that they would get a lot of eggs in the spring; not to mention young roosters for frying. He puzzled over having chicks in the coming year that would be mature enough to start laying in the fall to alleviate some of the natural drop off. He hoped the little bantams he had gotten from Mrs. Woods would make that happen. He also wondered about putting a number of the solar powered LED yard lights in the houses to increase their light exposure. I’ll think more on that one.
While dwelling on the chickens and egg production the layout of the chicken house and pen began to concern him. It was at the back of the property, as far from the house as possible. He had put it there intentionally, not wanting the chicken odors coming to the house. Now he saw that it was isolated and ripe for some night time visitors. Since the chickens were currently free ranging he took down the pen and added extra timber bracing to the walls of the chicken house. He cleared a passageway wide enough for the house from its current location to the goat barn. The pen was mostly reconstructed next to the goat barn. The chickens were taken from the house early one morning and locked into the goat barn. Bill had a small stack of round fence posts that he moved in front of the chicken house. With the kids, Bob, Alan and Mike, they jacked up the building and placed posts under it and began to roll it to the new location. The kids would grab the posts at the back and reposition them at the front as the building was rolled forward. Cal stood back and supervised the operation, directing the post placement. Leslie looked on and thought of how to incorporate the move with the use of the rollers into a lesson plan.
The concrete support blocks were positioned at the new location; the jacks were brought up and the building returned to a solid footing. After the last of the pen was put up the chickens were transferred to the new pen location. They would be secured in the pen for a few days to make sure they knew where to roost before being allowed to range again. Bill would sleep more soundly knowing the hen house and pen were now in Maggie’s hearing range.
Soon after the chickens were again free ranging Bill had a new concern. When he looked out the shop door from cutting a sheet of wood he saw a slat ribbed mongrel dog trying to get through the fence. Of course if people are hungry, they aren’t feeding their pets. As he stepped toward the fence the dog saw him and ran down the road. He went back to working on the solar dehydrator he was making but couldn’t keep his mind on the project. He kept thinking about the dog. Finally he went to the house and got his pistol and shotgun. He loaded the shotgun with buckshot and made the walk to Mike and Leslies’ where school was in session.
Leslie was quick to grasp his concerns about the danger of hungry dogs. She had read of the problems dog packs had caused in other areas when times were good. She would send each student home with notes to the parents and pray they took it serious. Bill left the shotgun with Amanda and asked her to make sure everyone got home safely, and to keep the shotgun with her from now on. Still concerned about dogs, he went back to his project, a rifle leaning in the corner, ready if the mongrel came back.
It’s not like we don’t already have enough to worry about, Lord. No power, most people short of food and water, disease, and now we might get dog packs. I know the Good Book says you won’t give us heavier burdens than we can bear, but sometimes I wish you didn’t think I was so tough.
|
|
|
Post by bretf on Jun 30, 2016 2:41:15 GMT
Chapter 22: Wintersong
Geese are flying in a ragged “V” Honking across the sky The pine trees rustle their song to me As the geese and the night go by The owls that sweep past the swamp’s dark edge Hoot as they fly along They’re singing their song of the winter Singing their wintersong
The old barn creaks as we pitch the hay To the horses who neigh below The bright flames crackle in the burning field Helping next summer’s crop to grow The garden has given her final gift The very last pumpkin is gone They’re singing their song of the winter Singing their wintersong
All for a reason We each have a season We rise and we lay ourselves down Changing and turning Planting and learning ‘Til, like the sun, we come ‘round
The trees stand traced against the sky Their arms outstretched and bare The squirrels asleep within their nest Find peace and comfort there In months ahead the spring will find The world renewed and strong Now we’re singing our song of the winter Singing our wintersong.
“Wintersong” Performed by John McCutcheon Written by John McCutcheon
Bill slipped his glasses back on and held the stave he had been shaping up to the light and carefully inspected it. While his official project was the dehydrator, when he was alone he was working on four bows. He had saved some straight sections of an elm tree he had cut down, dried them and split them into long nearly straight wedges. While he would have preferred yew or hickory, elm was what he had so that was what he would use. When times were good and he was working full time he had always wanted to make a bow by hand but never made the time for it. That hadn’t stopped him from studying the processes and gathering material. He had watched many YouTube videos and had finally bought the book The Art of Making Selfbows by Stim Wilcox. One bowyer he found online used many different woods, and backed them with sinew. After seeing that, Bill had saved large tendons from elk after successful hunts and now had a shopping bag full of strips.
He wanted to finish the bows by Christmas if possible. They would be gifts to Amanda, Brad, Mark and Mike. Mark had really taken to archery, or had he just taken to Amanda’s teaching? That’s quite enough of that line of thought! She’s too young! Amy’s Christmas gift, while always a puzzle what to get her in the past, was going to be a stove top oven. Yeah, pretty special, I know. He also had some chocolate stashed for her but in his view it was secondary. He tended towards the practical; she tended towards sentimental. He had purchased a Coleman camping stove top oven years ago that they used now. It worked but he could see how he could make an improved model that fit their wood stove and hopefully would cook much better.
Frances had told him that she was grateful for a safe home and that was all the gift she needed. Whatever! Bill had told her “Of course, I understand.” Then he traded some canned food for a bottle of wine for her. The wine was from the same town in California where Frances and Amy had grown up. They both had wonderful memories of that time. Frances had even worked part time at the winery during high school. Maybe she can remember better times for a while and escape what we have now.
For the rest of the family, he and Amanda had slow smoked a number of geese. They were hung in the freezing garage each night and then wrapped up tight and stored in the root cellar during the day. It was extra work, but after taking the geese from the smoker they been frozen and remained frozen through the effort.
With the stave marked, he put it back in the wood vice and used the drawknife to remove the wood to his line, then did more fine work with the spokeshave. Once each stave had been shaped, he would apply the elk tendons; called sinew by the old bowyer. They would be flattened and glued on with homemade hoof glue in overlapping strips. After it was dry he would make a tillering stick and begin the fine adjustment wood removal. With the tillering stick to guide him, he would remove wood to make the wood on each side of the handle riser curve and pull equally. A good sanding would follow; then the tips would be backed up with slices of antler and the string nocks cut. The antler would help prevent the wood from spitting at the nocks. Following the final sanding he would look through his wood stain and oil collection and figure out what he had that would best preserve and protect the wood and apply it.
It was quite a bit of work but he was relishing it. Most of his activity since September 11th had been geared towards preparing for trouble, followed by the extra work involved in dealing with the lack of electricity. It was relaxing to shape the wood; a useful but unnecessary endeavor. At least he hoped it was unnecessary. Wow, what if we deteriorate so far we have to rely on these things? He resolved to do his best to make sure the bows performed flawlessly. Despite the troubling thoughts that they may someday rely on the bows, the brief respite from the real world was a mental vacation.
Amanda had a very good compound bow that was adjustable in draw weight and length. It would serve her even after she reached her full adult size. However he wanted her to have a traditional bow also. Who knew when the high tech gadgetry might fail, while a good straight stick could always be found. Brad’s bow was little better than a toy. He always wanted to try Bill’s longbow but the draw was too much for him. I think he’ll enjoy shooting traditional more than Amanda. He continued pulling shavings off the stave, lost in the calming action.
Once the stave was shaped and ready for sinew, he went to the door and looked out. The snow was falling in big flakes adding to the four inches that had fallen overnight. It was so peaceful. One of the goats saw him and let him know she would like more feed. You guys are as bad as teenagers. He enjoyed the view a little longer then stepped out, walking in his earlier tracks as much as possible. He put the shaped stave in the rafters of the shed and brought down another unworked piece and returned to his shop.
The calm reverie of shaping wood was broken when Frances called to him that she had a pot of soup warmed for lunch. The soup was a thick concoction canned when the garden was producing heavily in previous years. The extremely hot weather of the past summer had reduced the garden’s output although he had managed to make a few large batches of soup later in the season. There just wasn’t as much as in past years and the variety of vegetables included was less than some years. He was thankful they had put up so much in the years the garden had produced in abundance. Each batch of soup was unique; Bill picked whatever was ripe and he and Amy blended it together, seasoned it and canned it. While Bill and Frances were eating, a string of kids went skiing past the front of the house, laughing and yelling with numerous snowballs being thrown. Leslie and Amy were letting the students burn off some energy in the fresh snow. I wouldn’t mind joining them, but I better take advantage of my alone time.
*****
The neighborhood was now on the alert for feral dogs. It saddened Bill to think of a beloved pet abandoned and left to fend for itself, but he had to face facts, there just wasn’t enough food for many people. Jim had eliminated two strays that were trying to get his chickens and Bill had shot a third. Bill had seen one other; it had gone near the foothills searching for food and instead became food for some coyotes. I guess that’s survival of the fittest in action. For the time being, no others had been seen. Shortwave radio reports said dogs were now a food source in the battle torn cities.
The Moser family evenings had developed a routine. After eating, they spent time reading and discussing the Bible. That was followed by Amanda and Brad practicing their instruments, often working on new songs and techniques from the DVDs Bill had purchased. Many times they would pull Bill into the songs, his rusty mandolin skills steadily improving. After that, the kids were given a short time of movie viewing. Occasionally the adults joined them, but more often they sat at the table and discussed the day or concerns they were facing.
As Christmas approached, the artificial tree was brought down from the attic and assembled. Donning Santa style hats, a pot of hot cider simmering on the corner of the stove, they decorated the tree much like usual, just leaving off the electric lights. There was a festive mood as they worked. As they were finishing, Bill looked out the window and thought of the electric lights generally strung on the houses and noticed Martin and Coleen’s house standing dark in the lengthening evening shadows. As he looked, a thought came to him that he figuratively kicked himself for not having before.
Putting on his stocking cap, insulated pacs and heavy coat he went out into the evening after a few words with Amy. The temperature was slightly above freezing with a cold rain falling. It was turning the accumulated snow into a slushy mess that shot out in globs with each step.
He went to the neighbor’s house next to Martin and Coleen’s and told them his thoughts. “I hate to see the house sitting empty like that. It’s an opportunity for someone to sneak in and squat there and visit our places at night. If we picked someone to live there we could be surer of what we are getting. I know a family that could do to get out of the subdivisions. The husband grew up on a subsistence farm and worked on other farms until he left home for college. To hear him describe it, his family survived mostly on what they produced themselves. If things aren’t back to normal in the spring, which looks highly doubtful, he would be very valuable if we start growing a lot of food. He’s been there and done that.”
They discussed the merits of the idea, the neighbors agreeing to meet the family before they would approve the idea. Bill thanked them for their time and visited the family on the other side of the empty house and made the same pitch. He was satisfied as he walked back home, thinking that just maybe, he could save at least one family.
Amy and Frances were preparing supper when he walked in. “Well, how’d it go?” Amy asked hopefully.
“Why don’t you make enough supper for three more. I think I’ll take the pickup and bring them over here to discuss it and see the place,” he answered. He asked Amanda to get dressed for the cold to go for a ride with him. He went out and started a fire in the pickup gasifier and they drove to Mandy’s house.
Telling the Roberts family he was taking them to supper, they trudged out to Bill’ pickup and were driven to Bill and Amy’s house. They didn’t have to dress for the cold; they were already wearing their coats and hats inside the cold house.
Standing close to the wood stove, it appeared Phil and Lois hadn’t been warm in a long time. As they savored the heat, then sat at the table to eat, Bill explained his idea. “Oh no, we couldn’t impose like that,” Lois said. She was quickly echoed by Phil.
“It’s not imposing. It is allowing you to help our neighborhood while we help you.” He explained his thoughts about extra security and one more experienced farm hand. They still weren’t convinced but he let them savor the meal. He was sure it had been a long time since they had eaten anything like that. After the meal, Amanda passed around a platter of brownies she had baked that day. Bill silently observed the amazed and satisfied expressions on their faces as they ate the treat.
After the meal was finished, Bill asked Phil and Lois to at least come with him and see the house. He took a lantern, flashlights and got the house key from where he had hung it. After burying Martin, Bill, Amy and Frances had cleaned the house as well as they could and locked it up, taking the keys with them. Before leaving his own home, Bill showed Phil and Lois the well with the hand pump before starting down the road. “We have as much water as we are willing to pump and carry. With the wood stove and camp showers, we can have hot, albeit short showers. We have water for laundry and anything else we’re willing to put out the effort for.”
Once in Martin and Coleen’s house, Bill showed them the layout, pointed out the wood stove with the flat top that could be used to cook on as well as the substantial wood pile. He showed them the garden area and the open pasture that could be turned into an even larger garden. Phil appeared to be wavering as they locked up and went back to Bill’s home, the cold wind cutting through their coats as the rain soaked their faces. Phil and Lois again stood close to the stove, relishing the heat. Amy gave them each a hot cup of rose hip tea with a small amount of honey in it. As Bill returned them home he noticed the rain had stopped and the temperature was dropping. The roads would be icy before long. He asked them to at least consider coming back and meeting the neighbors. The Roberts family got out and headed into their cold dark house, tears streaking Mandy’s face as she hugged Amanda goodbye. Amanda was mute as they returned home.
*****
The final coat of oil was being applied on the last bow when Maggie alerted Bill to someone’s presence on the road. While he was used to many people popping by since most of the neighbors came for water, he still looked to check each time. He was pleased to see the people walking toward his gate were Phil, Lois and Mandy Roberts. Making sure the bow, yes it was now a bow and not a wood stave, had an even coverage of oil, he hung it to dry, wiped his hands and pulled on his gloves. He shivered as he went outside and glanced towards the obscured foothills. The day after the rain had stopped, the valley had been engulfed by his least favorite weather; an inversion. Now on its fourth day, the sky was a sick, ugly gray and getting murkier each day. In the past, the increased pollution levels would have caused firewood burning to be banned until the inversion dissipated. Now as the only reliable heat source, wood smoke billowed into the air and added to the unhealthy air. Bill pulled the bandana that was tied around his neck up over his nose and mouth as he was assailed by the foul air and walked towards the gate.
Once Bill was close enough he greeted the family and told them, “You could have picked a nicer day for a walk. But it’s nice to see you. Do you want to come in and have a cup of coffee by the fire?”
“We’d welcome some coffee and heat, but we actually came to talk about that house. Is the offer still open?” Phil asked hopefully.
“It is as far as I’m concerned. Let’s go in the house and get you that coffee. Then I’ll go see if the neighbors are still open to it and can talk with you.” They went in the house and Frances worked on preparing them something hot to drink by the stove. “Mandy, I’m sorry but Amanda’s not here. Did she tell you about the makeshift school we have here?”
Lois perked up at that, “School? How are they going to school?”
Frances began to explain while Bill excused himself. Phil and Lois gratefully accepted cups of hot coffee while they listened and wrapped their hands around the mugs, relishing the warmth as it worked into their cold fingers. Mandy took off her coat and backed up to the wood stove while Frances poured a cup of hot mater to mix with instant cocoa. Lois let out an involuntary shudder as she started slowly warming.
Bill went to the neighbors on each side of Martin and Coleen’s house and invited each household over to talk over some hot coffee. They followed him over and went to the table to get acquainted with the Roberts family. When the neighbors learned that Mandy was Amanda’s best friend, Mack, the man closest to Bill’s home asked if she shot as well as Amanda. He had been a recipient of a few of her geese. The talk went well and soon each family gave their blessing for Phil’s family to occupy the vacant house.
While they were talking Amy and the kids came home. Amanda was thrilled to see her best friend and was leading her towards the bedrooms when she was stopped by her dad. Bill asked her and Brad to go to Martin’s house and get the stove roaring to take the chill out of the air and to open the curtains and let some light in, muted as it was with the thick air. Mandy could go along and the girls could catch up on what they had been doing while still accomplishing something. “And you can teach her how to start a fire while you’re at it,” he said. He put his own coat hat and bandana back on and went out the back door to get the pickup fired up. Soon Bill had the Roberts family and his own kids loaded in the pickup and they began the move. He was reminded of Bob’s move, how much stuff was now not worth the bother of moving. Hopefully the stuff left behind would be there if and when the power came back on. He wouldn’t bet on it though.
*****
Christmas dawned clear and cold. It wasn’t a white Christmas, but at least a wind had come in and blown the inversion out of the valley overnight. The bows were a big hit with everyone. Amy and Frances were thrilled with the prospects of cooking in the improved oven. Amy disagreed with Bill that the chocolate was secondary. Bill received a wood carving of a goat from Brad, rough but recognizable, and a poem written by Amanda; it was hard to read as his eyes misted up. Amy gave him a knitted scarf. Evidently, she had also been a student of Leslie’s tutelage.
The Williams and Roberts families joined them for dinner at Bill’s parent’s house. The extravagant spread even included a roast turkey and ham. Bob had traded wood gas power plans and know-how with a farmer in exchange for the meat. After the meal the tables were cleared and board games set up. The group could almost forget about the crash as they laughed and played and accused Mellissa and her sister Tammy of cheating. Just like old times. At the end of one game, Amanda, Brad and Mark performed a mini concert; the arrangements Leslie had worked them on giving each one a chance to show their stuff. The Roberts family was a little uncomfortable; they felt like party crashers but were able to relax as the day went on. The only problem Bill had with the whole day was no fresh ice cream for the apple pie. I’ll have that fixed by next year if things stay as they are now.
No ice cream and the state of his mother, that is. She looked frail enough that a soft wind might blow her over. She had turned her kitchen over to the other women; she usually fussed over the whole meal preparation and only allowed limited assistance. Amy had taken her to the back bedroom and finally gotten her to talk. She had been suffering from heart problems for some time and Medicaid had provided for medication that kept it managed. She had been unable to stock up on the medicine prior to the crash and now her heart was close to failing. She swore Amy to secrecy, even though she knew Bill would find out that evening. The two talked for a long time; Bill’s mom trying to express how she felt it was providence Amy had entered Bill’s life and saved him from himself. And her greatest gratitude was for the kids, especially having them spend time and play the beautiful music for her. Amy was quiet and red eyed the remainder of the day.
A happy, overfed group made their way down the street. The sky was so much more vivid with the absence of artificial lighting, the stars uncountable. A large meteor shower had graced the night sky just before the inversion had blocked visibility. The kids watched the sky intently hoping there might be more shooting stars. Just before leaving the Roberts family Brad pointed one out that everyone was able to see. They stared into the dark sky long after its light faded to nothing before Amy, beginning to shiver, shook the mood and got the family headed for home once again.
*****
When Bill turned on the radio, he found only static. He slowly turned the dial checking for a signal; switched bands and went through the same motion with the same results. So what does that mean? After two plus months are some of the terrorists still working to make life miserable? Happy New Year! He poured a cup of coffee, opened a binder, and began poring over his planting time, yield charts and everything he had accumulated on gardening. It wouldn’t be long before the daylight hours would be conducive to plant growth. The temperature wouldn’t be warm enough outside, but the amount of sunlight would be right. It would stimulate plants to grow on the south sides of buildings.
Enough plants had been removed from the greenhouse, he needed to work in some compost and have the beds ready for seeds. He was nearly giddy with anticipation as he studied the material and thought about picking juicy red tomatoes and everything else in the main season garden. The salads he had been harvesting through the winter were welcome but they just didn’t match the summer harvest of flavors.
When the sky to the east started lightening, he took one more sip of coffee, marked his page and closed the notebook. A quick check of the stove showed it had enough wood for some time yet. He bundled up for the cold and took care of the morning chores. After he refilled the tea pots and set them back on the stove to heat, he filled one coat pocket with shotgun shells, put two bags in the other and picked up his shotgun. He looked at Maggie and asked her if she wanted to go for a walk. Her answer was to stretch out on the floor in front of the wood stove and let loose with a long fart. All right then. I’ll take that as a definite “no”.
As he walked past the Williams house the door opened and Mark stepped out. “Hi Bill. Are you going hunting? Can I go along?”
“Not exactly hunting, but sure you can come along.”
Mark opened the door and spoke into the house and then joined Bill. “I’m going down to the river,” Bill told him. The river was a little over a mile from Bill’s house. “And then I want to walk along the drain ditch. I’ve been toying with the idea of some fish traps. I know in good times guys would be out fishing now for fun. I want to see if it looks like the river and the drain ditch have been getting pressure, and if not, if there are some good places to put in traps. I’ve been craving fish lately.” They walked quietly for a while. “And who knows? We might see some ducks or geese to shoot. Maybe even a pheasant, although I haven’t seen any of them around her for years.” And people call all the construction progress.
Although they never saw anyone, the river bank did show signs of a lot of human activity. As they walked downstream they saw numerous shotgun shell casings. New trails had been tromped through the brush at most of the slow moving holes. “I think we’ll pass on the river,” Bill said. “I’d bet that any traps we put in here would get stolen. Obviously a lot of guys are using the river as a food source. I just wish they’d pick up after themselves,” he said as he was picking up more spent shotgun brass and filling one of the bags he had taken from the house. And haven’t they ever heard of reloading?
They walked back to a spot along the road where they could access the drain ditch and started walking upstream. Only a narrow access separated the drain ditch from resident’s back fences. They found very little sign of human activity and jumped two small flocks of ducks. Mark looked at Bill expectantly as the shotgun remained at his side. Bill just smiled and watched them fly away. “I don’t really need a duck. They probably have enough other people blasting away at them.” He pointed out a few areas to Mark that he thought would be good to place fish traps. At the next road crossing, they climbed out of the ditch cut and followed the roads back to Bill’s place.
Bill got a full cup of coffee and made Mark a mug of cocoa and they went to the shop. Bill pointed to a roll of hardware cloth on a shelf and asked Mark to get it down. While Mark did that Bill found his minnow trap and carried it to the workbench where Mark was waiting. “This is what we’re going to make, but about twice as big and the holes in the funnel piece need to be quite a bit bigger. Do you see how it works?”
Mark instantly understood the idea and the two of them started calculating the sizes of hardware cloth. Bill always tried to turn school lessons into a practical application. Here was a chance for Mark to figure the cut sizes based on the desired diameter. After he had the lengths determined Bill taught him to lay out a cone. He handed Mark a pair of tin snips and let him cut the pieces. While Mark was cutting Bill found a piece of sheet metal to make name tags, his letter stamps and a spool of wire. Even though it wasn’t legal to trap fish, he would tag the traps with his name. Heavy gauge galvanized wire was used to hold the hardware cloth to shape at the ends and the center joints. Four traps were ready to go to the ditch when Amanda found them and said breakfast was ready.
“Do you have enough for Mark? We went to the river pretty early and he hasn’t eaten either,” Bill said.
“I think we have enough. Now hurry up before it gets cold. Oh by the way, did you know the radio isn’t working?”
“Yep, I tried it this morning and couldn’t find a station. I’m not sure what it means, but probably nothing good.” He and Mark followed her to the house, took off their boots, hung their coats and hats and joined the family at the table after washing up.
*****
The food distribution was on the regular schedule, although Bill noted there was less food. What was in abundance however was talk and rumors. Once Bill’s group made it to the head of the line they were able to discount some stories and confirm others. The radio station was dead in truth. The building and all of its contents had been burnt to the ground. Good thing that a corporation combined so many of the stations in one building and made it easy for the dirt bags. On top of that, the communication towers above the city had been toppled. A new spate of bombings had swept the country. The terrorists must have decided too many people were coping following the crash. It was time to stir things up some more. And once again, the terrorists had acted with impunity while the authorities were left clueless. It could turn out to be a long ordeal if the foxes remained in control of the henhouse.
|
|