The Long Dakness

[bretf]

This story parallels “The Danged Rocks”. However there is a lot of backstory in that tale that is missing in this one, so I recommend reading it first.

The Long Darkness
Chapter 1

“Oh, for the love of …..” Steve Miller exclaimed as the television and lights shut off. The house was instantly pitch black inside. The blinds had been drawn tight in an attempt to dissuade any trick-or-treaters from intruding on Steve’s evening, so no ambient light was visible. Better to be thought a child molester than keep going to the door all night. Too bad it didn’t stop all of the little snots.

It was dark enough Steve couldn’t even see shadows as his eyes worked to adjust to the sudden change. The house was totally quiet, eerily quiet for Halloween, except for his cursing. There had been a startled squeal outside when the lights went out but it had faded into the darkness. “It’s not bad enough to have all those little brats coming by and interrupting us and begging for candy. Now this….” And Steve cursed more. Finally he stopped. “So what’d you do, forget to pay the bill or something?” he snapped at his wife Jenny.

“No I didn’t forget. You know we have it set up for automatic payment online,” she shot back at him. “You did deposit your check didn’t you? Didn’t spend it all at the bar?” The expletives that erupted from Jenny were even worse than Steve’s. “And just when Snooki and Sasha were going to dance! They better get the power back on before Corbin Bleu dances or I’m really going to….” And she continued to rant about the power cutting off during Dancing with the Stars. The lack of lights didn’t upset her nearly as much as losing the feed to her favorite television show.

“Yes I deposited my check, what there was of it. You know it’s been pretty short ever since this crap started. It should have been enough. So where’s the flashlight?” he demanded with a few more curses.

“Beats me,” Jenny answered and fought to get her cell phone out of her snug jeans pocket. Once it was out she checked for the internet connection. Maybe she could keep watching the show on the tiny screen. “That’s odd,” she said. “I don’t have service.”

“Maybe the power’s out at the towers too,” Steve told her. “So you really don’t know where the flashlight is?” he asked, his voice full of irritation. She ignored him as she found the flashlight function on the phone.

“Hey that’s better,” he said as the cell phone cast its light into the room. “Not very much, but better.” He shot her a look that she couldn’t see in the darkness that said she should have done better.

“Yeah, better than pitch black,” Jenny echoed. “Now if the TV would just come back on. I really don’t want to miss Corbin. But anyway, I think the flashlight is in the catch-all drawer in the kitchen.”

They followed the meager light into the kitchen. Steve cursed again as he stubbed his sock-clad toes on the edge of the kitchen island. He grasped the edge of the counter top and bent over while the pain subsided. Once the pain in his toes had subsided to a dull throb, he found the handle and pulled the drawer open. The flashlight wasn’t readily visible, but Steve dug around until he found it. “Ah here it is!” he exclaimed. “Now we can have some better light.” He clicked the switch and let loose another string of cussing as it remained dark. “Here, put your light over here, so I can see something,” he demanded as he unscrewed the end. When he pulled the end free, green and white globs and powder fell onto the counter, accompanied by a portion of a corroded spring.

Steve tipped the light up and tried to dump the batteries out, having to hit the side numerous times for them to break free of the corrosion and drop out. They were so badly deteriorated, they were difficult to recognize in the poor light of the phone. He cursed again, and spat out “Well, we sure aren’t getting any light from this thing. Do we have any candles?”

“I don’t think so,” she answered. “I got rid of them when I got that Scentsy electric candle thing.”

“Well isn’t that just stinking great,” he said. He reached to slam the drawer shut and glimpsed a birthday candle in the clutter. “Hey, look at this,” he said as he picked it up, showing Jenny the wax number three.

“Oh yeah, that’s from Nick’s last birthday. I forgot about it. Do you see any matches?”

Steve dug through the drawer looking, “So why do we have all this crap anyway,” he hissed, irritated at the evening’s events. Yes it was Halloween, but he just wanted to sit back and watch TV, well what passed as TV since that rotten bunch of sand slugs had starting blowing stuff up. And then there was That Sunday, where they had shut down all the major sports in the country. Whoever heard of an October without a World Series anyway? So here it was the end of October and not a live game to be found when all he wanted was to watch some football and have a few drinks. He simmered as he thought about that and not getting to see his only grandson before he went trick or treating.

Their son Jake and his wife Toni were taking Nick, their grandson trick or treating in one of the better neighborhoods in town, so Steve wouldn’t even get to see the boy in his costume. They thought the pickings would be better in the area where hordes of children converged like a plague of locusts each year. Jake had at least sent a picture on his phone. Just a picture on the stinking phone! After all they had done to help the kids and Jake just managed to send one lousy picture on the phone. The stupid phone had replaced so much of their personal interaction; Steve saw less and less of the kids. Jake preferred to send text messages rather than see his parents. Steve cursed again thinking of the phone picture while he searched through the clutter for a book of matches.

Finally Steve located a book of matches and turned to light the candle. The match flared to light, an echo of the flaring anger Steve felt at the moment.

“That’s not much light!” he snapped as the candle wick caught the flame. He stared at it a moment. “I need a drink!” he stated and picked up the candle and walked to the refrigerator. “You want anything?”

Steve stood in front of the open refrigerator door as the coolness inside rushed out; he looked by the candle’s light through the sparsely filled space until he located the Coke and removed a can. “Do you see the wine?” Jenny asked, “I want a glass of it.”

Steve pushed aside a jar of pickles and a mystery takeout container of leftovers to pick up the box of wine. “Here it is, but it doesn’t feel like there’s much left in it.” He sat it on the counter near the fridge and glanced around at the contents before closing the door. “Get me the J.D., would ya?” he asked Jenny in a tone that sounded more like an order. He took a tumbler and wineglass out of a cabinet and after setting Jenny’s glass beside the wine box, held the tumbler to the ice discharge chute built into the refrigerator door. When nothing happened, he cursed again and opened the freezer section and dipped his glass into the ice bin to fill it. Ice cubes fell to the floor at his feet that he left there. He filled his glass with bourbon and Coke while Jenny filled her wine glass.

“Yeah, there’s not much left here,” Jenny said. It felt to her like there might be enough for one more glass in the box after she had filled the wineglass. “We’ll have to pick up another one tomorrow.”

Whatever response Steve grumbled as he picked up his drink and the candle was unintelligible as he turned and walked to his seat in front of the dark television.

*****

As the sunlight started peeking through the cracks in the blinds, Steve and Jenny were still in front of the blank screen, sleeping soundly. The candle was a lump of wax on the coffee table, long burned out, next to the empty wine box. The empty bourbon bottle was on its side on the floor.

Jenny roused, bleary eyed and looked around in the muted light, confused. As she rose to a sitting position on the couch, she remembered the events of the previous evening. One hand ran through her hair, working some of the kinks free that had gathered while she slept. She looked at the blank clock face, then pushed the knob on her watch and squinted at the glowing face to see the time. Dang, I’m late; stupid alarm clock. She went to the wall switch and flicked it off and on numerous times before she was convinced the power was still out. She went to the window and opened the blinds, momentarily blinded by the bright light. The light sent a needle shot of pain through her brain and she had a momentary regret for drinking the last glass of wine.

She looked at Steve, still snoring in his chair. Since his work had slowed down, he slept late every day and watched TV deep into the night. Steve thought his work-mate Bill was nuts to take the morning shift and was glad Tom had given him the chance to go in late. Well, that was just one of the reasons he thought Bill was nuts.

Jenny walked to the bathroom and started the water in the shower. Late or not, she wouldn’t leave the house without a shower. She failed to notice the decreased pressure as the water ran. Goose bumps covered her skin as she undressed. Brrr, the heat’s out too. She may have missed the pressure change, but when she got into the shower, she instantly noticed the cold water temperature. She tried to adjust the water temperature, but it remained cold. She showered in a fraction of her normal time when it wouldn’t warm up. She turned off the diminished flow and toweled off as she began to shiver from the cold. Once dry, she wrapped her towel around her body and looked at the blow drier. “My hair’s gonna be such a mess if I can’t dry it,” she mumbled into the dark shadow in the mirror. She walked, still wrapped in her towel to get her phone to call work. She decided there was no need to go in if the power was off but needed to make sure.

Her cell phone was on the floor in front of the couch, where it had slipped from her lap sometime during the night. She picked it up and couldn’t get any response from it. It came to her that she had needed to charge it before she and Steve had used it for light. She must have fallen asleep with the light still on, draining the battery completely. She cursed her negligence for allowing that to happen. She was lost without a working cell phone. She went to the end table where Steve always dropped his phone and picked it up. It had power but she couldn’t get a signal. The home phone had been long ago removed so she had no choice but to dress and drive to the office.

She opened more blinds as she went to the bedroom to dress. Still shivering, she dressed, finishing with a thick sweater. Her shivering gradually subsided.

She cursed again at the state of her hair when she made a futile attempt to brush it to her normal look. I can’t go out looking like this! She went back to her dresser and found a scarf and wrapped it over her hair, glad the weather was cool so she wouldn’t look too nerdy.

She went to the fridge and looked in, hoping there would be something to settle her stomach. The shelves were mostly bare and nothing looked appetizing. Steve did have to finish off all the Coke last night! She stared a little longer before she closed the door too forcefully and walked into the living room. She looked in the dish of candy that was near the door. Steve buys such junk; I don’t want any of that. Steve purposely had the least appetizing candy he could find, trying to further dissuade the Halloween beggars.

“Hey Steve,” she said to the figure in the chair. When he stirred enough, she continued, “Hey Steve, its morning. I’m going to the office. The power is still out, but maybe it’s on there. Do you think maybe you can pick up around the house today since you can’t watch TV?” she said.

“Whatever,” he mumbled and closed his eyes as she went out the door.

Jenny started her SUV and plugged her phone into the car charger, and let the car idle with the defroster running while she got the ice scraper and cleaned the windows. This bites, it just really, really bites. If Steve would just get that junk out of the garage, I wouldn’t have to do this all the time. Yet he manages to get his car in the garage.

She started driving, her head swaying to the music from the CD blasting out of the speakers. She directed the heat from one vent towards her cold fingers; already cold from the chilly house and shower, now starting to go numb after scraping the frost from the windows. It felt like tiny needles were piercing her fingers as they began to warm.

The streets were strangely empty. Traffic had been getting lighter since the bombings had started on September 11th; especially dropping off after that horrible Sunday, “The Sunday” most of the media now called it, but nothing like this. The first stoplight she came to was not working. The few drivers that were out were courteously treating it as a four way stop and she got through it faster than waiting for the light to cycle. All the lights were out as she made the commute.

Only one car was in the office lot when she arrived and the door was unlocked. “Sorry I’m late, but my alarm didn’t go off. I sure hope you have coffee made,” she told her supervisor as she went into the semi-dark office, the only light coming from the windows.

“Don’t I wish!” Carol answered. “But that’s hard to do without power. I can’t even heat water and use instant. I’m already starting to get a headache without my caffeine.”

“I was sure hoping there would be power on here,” Jenny said. “I couldn’t call because my phone was dead and Steve’s didn’t have service.”

“It wouldn’t have helped even if your phone was charged. The radio said the power is out pretty much everywhere. They think the terrorists changed their tactics and targeted electricity and communications. Evidently all the phone systems are out, cells and wired ones both. I could only find one radio station working here. They said it was because they have a generator and fuel as part of the Emergency Broadcast System.”

Jenny felt her face flush. “I didn’t think about radio news. I had a disc in and listened to it while I was driving. So the power is out everywhere?” She couldn’t wrap her mind around the concept. Power outages were usually local and could be corrected pretty quickly. But to have the power out everywhere and the phones not working either; that was just unimaginable.

“It sounds like it and the power company doesn’t have any idea how long it will be to get it back up. So I guess we’re closed down for now. We sure can’t do anything without our computers and the internet. I was going to stay here for another hour to tell anybody that comes in,” Carol told her. “You might as well leave. But come back if you find coffee!”

Wow, the power’s out everywhere? Really? That’s not good, definitely not good, Jenny mused to herself as she went to her car. She made sure to find the working radio station to hear the news. It was depressing enough that she almost switched it back to the disc.

As she drove, Jenny noticed she was down to a quarter tank of gas and decided she had better fuel up. Since she was thinking about it and paying attention, she saw every gas station she passed was closed. Oh right, no power, no gas pumps. She had resigned herself to not getting any gas when she passed a station on the opposite side of the five lane road that must be open, judging by the cars. They were lined up in the far traffic lane and the center turn lane for at least two blocks each way. She debated getting in line or going home, before she finally did a U-turn and got in the line. Idling the car through the wait time made her really need to fill up. When it was finally her turn at the pump, she had her hopes dashed. “No, you can’t be serious!” She shouted at the mute gas pump.

The hand lettered note on the pump stated in large letters, “CASH ONLY, NO CHECKS, NO CREDIT OR DEBIT CARDS, NO EXCEPTIONS. Pay before pumping.” Jenny had failed to notice the number of cars that had left the station soon after entering.

“No,” she groaned as she looked into her purse. She rarely used cash. She relied on her debit card for everything. She found a five dollar bill in her wallet and nothing more. She looked in the change container in the console and picked up the handful of coins and quickly counted it. That should be enough for a coffee. She went into the convenience store to pay.

When Jenny had put the paltry amount of gas in the tank, she got in the car and sipped at the coffee, savoring the flavor until the driver in the car behind her honked his displeasure at her just sitting there. She started up and pulled slowly away from the pump as she carefully nestled the cup. This is so good. I better not spill it. I want the power back so I can make a pot at home. She had no way of knowing how long it would be before the power was restored.

She glanced at the fuel gauge. That’s barely what it was when I got in line. It had become an automatic action over the years, to just swipe her card to pay whatever it took and not really think of what it cost to drive around. Now, in a crucial time, five dollars hardly registered. It was almost enough to make her scream. Thank goodness I got some caffeine at least.

The garage door was open when she pulled into the driveway. There were even more boxes scattered about than usual, and Steve was bent over, rummaging through the contents of one. “What are you looking for?” she asked as she walked up to him.

“My Dad gave me his old camping gear, remember? I was trying to find it. It seems like there was a lantern and a camp stove in that stuff,” he answered. “Got any idea where it is?”

Jenny instantly got a guilty look on her face, and after a sharp intake of breath said, “It’s not here anymore,” and waited for him to explode.

Steve looked at her, a building storm behind his eyes and asked very slowly and quietly, “What do you mean, it’s not here anymore?”

The quiet was more unnerving than if he had shouted at her. “Well,” she stammered, “That stuff was right in the way for me to open the car door. I kept asking you to put it all away and you never did it. You were always watching a football game or NASCAR race or something. I figured you must not want it if you didn’t want to take care of it, so, I, well, I gave it to Goodwill.”

“You gave it to Goodwill?” he hissed out. “I sure don’t remember sitting alone watching the games. You have always been more insistent about watching them than me, and so, since I spend my time with you, it’s my fault the stuff was there and so you got rid of it?” Steve’s face was beginning to turn red as he talked; each word very deliberate. “So just what do you propose we do for light? What about food? It’s getting cold in the house. What about that?” He put an exclamation on the last loud question by slamming a vase he had picked out of the box to the floor. “You get rid of those things but you keep this crap! That is great, just stinkin’ great!” The red in his face had darkened while he spoke; spittle flew from his mouth as he delivered each word. After throwing the vase, his hands formed into tight, white-knuckled fists at his side.

Jenny jumped as the vase crashed to the cement floor, shards of glass flying everywhere. She was searching for a response when he turned and stomped into the house, slamming the door behind him. The door slammed with such force, the nearest shelf shook from the impact. She stared at the closed door. Wow! It’s been a while since I’ve seen him that hot. His temper had been growing shorter and shorter fused since the bombings had started. He used to be light hearted, but the more time he spent home from reduced work hours, watching television, he grew ever more morose.

Jenny was shaking as she picked up the broom and swept up the glass shards, hoping it would give him enough time to have cooled down. She had to work around the boxes he had brought home from work the previous month. He had dropped them in her parking spot, stating that it was his Christmas bonus. They hadn’t been disturbed since.

When she stepped into the house she looked around, keeping one hand on the knob just in case while her eyes adjusted to the low light. She found Steve at the table, looking into a bowl of cereal that was growing soggy.

He didn’t look up right away but began talking, “Sorry about that. I’m just kind of tired of the whole terrorist crap and it’s really gnawing on me. We shouldn’t have that here. That stuff happens in other countries. That’s why we send troops all over the world.” He finally looked up at her. “It’s just not supposed to happen in America.” He looked again at his cereal bowl. It was not setting well with his sour stomach.

“No it’s not supposed to happen here, but it is,” she said, not acknowledging his attempt at apology. “I didn’t eat yet. Is there more milk?”

“About enough for one more bowl. Probably a good thing, though. It’s pretty warm. That’s crazy; the house is getting cold and the fridge is getting warm. We’ll have to get some more milk today. The power can’t be off long,” Steve said.

“About that,” Jenny began. “It might be longer than a regular black out. The radio said the blackout is nationwide; terrorists have destroyed power plants and substations and something they called power hubs all over. They wouldn’t even guess when it might be working again.”

Steve’s face began to color while he stared into the cereal bowl and listened to her. “Well isn’t that just great!” he said. “No lights, no stove, no heat, no hot water, just a whole lot of nothing. That is just great.”

“Speaking of water,” Jenny interrupted, “The water company only has one pump set up with a back-up generator. They can’t provide the city with enough water from it. So they said if people want water they have do go to that pump station with containers. But they did say they were working to get others set up; then they could get water to the houses, just not much and it would be at low pressure.”

“You’re just full of all kinds of happy news, aren’t you?” Steve said. “What other gems of misery do you have?”

Jenny’s eyes moistened as she recalled her frustration earlier. “I was really low on gas, and most all of the stations were closed since they can’t run their pumps. I saw one that was running with a generator. The line was really long to get in, and when I finally did…” She paused and dabbed at her eyes. “I couldn’t use my card. They only take cash. How are we supposed to get anything without the debit card? I never use cash.”

“Doesn’t that just figure? The banks push you all the time to use their stinking cards, and then it won’t work when you really need it,” Steve stated as he sat and fumed. He looked at the cereal bowl and fought down the urge to throw it across the room. I better not waste the food. He took a bite of the soggy flakes and swallowed the soft food after minimal chewing.

“So did the guys on the radio have any pearls of wisdom about what we are supposed to do? Or do we just bend over and put our head between our legs and pucker up?” Steve asked.
“They didn’t really say anything like that. They were talking more about what happened and everything that’s not working.”

Steve picked up his bowl and drank from it, milk running down both sides of his face. When it was finished, he sat it down and wiped his face with the back of his hand and belched. “So just what the heck do we do?” he asked.

[bretf]

Chapter 2

Jenny and Steve were ill equipped to face the harsh realities that suddenly confronted them. With normal localized power outages, when it was dinnertime, they would drive to a part of town that still had power to eat and hang out. Most of the time, the power would be restored in a short time. If it lasted very long, they didn’t hesitate to check into a motel that had power, as long it had a restaurant, bar and satellite television. Past power outages weren’t an inconvenience; they were an opportunity for a break from the normal routine.

Jenny had been born with the proverbial silver spoon in her mouth. Her mother had grown up in the family of a laborer, barely making ends meet. He managed by growing most of the family’s food himself. Scraping everything together she could manage, Jenny’s mother had attended the local community college. One night while accompanying her dorm mates to a party, she attracted the attention of an up and comer that was working for Tyson Foods. Following a whirl-wind courtship they had married and she settled into a nice home in Springdale, Arkansas, Tyson Foods home. She made a personal promise that any children they had would have an easier life than she had. When Jenny was born, the spoiling began immediately. When it was determined there would be no more children, she increased her efforts.

As she grew, Jenny wanted for nothing; she saw something she wanted and her mother made it happen. The housekeeper picked up after her and kept her bedroom tidy and her laundry clean and put away. Meals seemed to magically appear on the table each day. She rarely saw her grandparent’s modest home, her mother doing her best to shield the girl from that life. Jenny loved the time spent with them, helping with the livestock and garden. When she expressed to her mother how much she enjoyed the rare visits, her mother distanced her even more. When Jenny entered high school, she was openly welcomed to the cheerleading squad and forgot all about the enjoyable times on the small farmstead. Her life was perfect. She was popular and carried an open credit card. Her world was crushed when her father was transferred.

In order to make sure they kept their top customers happy, Tyson located salesmen at the customer’s home offices, the salesmen dedicating all their efforts to the individual company. Upon the retirement of a top account manager, the company needed someone to replace him in Boise, Idaho to manage the Albertson’s supermarket account. Jenny’s father was given the assignment. He saw it as a great opportunity. The rest of the family didn’t share his view. Jenny and her mother didn’t want to leave their home and move out to the hinterlands, but her father refused to separate the family. After many heated discussions the family moved. Jenny was devastated to move just at the start of her senior year of high school. She was withdrawn and sullen until she attracted the attention of the star receiver on the football team.

Steve had more modest beginnings but his father was a driven sports-nut. His position in the bank he worked for allowed him flexibility to push his passions through his son. Steve began playing optimist football and little league baseball as soon as he was eligible, pushed ever harder by his father. Summers were filled with camps and tournaments. By the time Steve reached high school, he was an accomplished athlete, but less than a stellar student.

High school meant two things to Steve: sports and girls. Classes took a back burner. If it looked like he was in danger of failing a class, the coach stepped in. Failing grades meant no participation in sports. On rare occasions, the coach could work with the teacher of the class in question to get a grade changed, but always with promises – that were always broken – that Steve would buckle down and do the work. Most teachers were more rigid, having been in the situation before. A jock wasn’t going to do the work after the fact, no matter how they pleaded and made empty promises. In those cases, a tutor would be provided to Steve that crammed him with enough information he could pass the class.

Steve instantly fell for the lovely, sullen Jenny. The new girl had long blond hair, and when she spoke, her soft southern accent nearly melted him. At first, he figured she would be just another in a long line of girls that he dated and dumped. There were way too many girls to get stuck with just one. But something about Jenny was different. They were still dating in the spring, when she brought his world and dreams tumbling down.

Steve was preparing with his team for the state baseball tournament. His team was a strong contender for the title, a rarity for his school. Steve was the leader of the team with strong defense at shortstop and exceptional hitting. He played horribly after Jenny dropped the bombshell just before the first game; she was pregnant.

The young couple married right after graduation. Steve gave up his athletic scholarship and went to work in his father’s bank as a teller. His father tried to persuade Steve to go on to college and play ball and let the girl deal with the baby; after all she was the one that was pregnant, not Steve. Those things happened all the time with star athletes. They were always surrounded by girls just looking to ensnare them. Steve nearly followed his dad’s advice, but in the end did what he felt was right. He traded in his jerseys for collared shirts and ties. Jenny’s mother continued to dote on her, but both of the newlyweds carried strong resentment for the other about the events that transpired. Steve’s dreams of becoming a professional athlete were over along with Jenny’s dream of hanging on his arm in the limelight.

Steve began to chafe at working for his father, always reading disappointment and accusation in his eyes. He took drafting classes in the evening; the one class he had enjoyed in high school, eventually breaking away from his father’s yoke and looks by taking a job with a small construction and remodel company. Yankee Stadium had never looked farther away.

He developed a close friendship with one of the other men in the office, Greg. They would talk through the day about NFL games, NASCAR races, baseball, golfing, and go to lunch most days together. Greg wouldn’t go to the bar after work with him, but a couple of the outside workers made decent enough drinking buddies. The third guy in the office, Bill, Steve couldn’t figure out. Greg joked with him that he was a devout Mormon; Steve was more inclined to think he was a closet Amish. For one thing, the guy was a teetotaler, even worse than Greg. The guy rarely watched TV and only listened to the local college football team on the radio. He hadn’t seen a Super Bowl in the time Steve knew him. Steve considered that downright un-American. Bill said that time of year was perfect to get the seeds started for the garden. He never went out for lunch, but brought something bizarre he had made at home like goat cheese and canned carp. Really, he canned and ate trash fish. He drove a clunker of a car that was pushing thirty years old. He claimed he didn’t care what it looked like; it still got forty miles on a gallon of gas. The guy was just plain weird.

While Steve worked, Jenny continued to play the socialite with her mother, only slightly encumbered by the baby Jake. The day Tyson announced Jenny’s father was being transferred out of Boise was another devastating blow. Jenny wanted to pack and go along but her father forbid it. The idea of spending the day in her small house was detestable. Jake had entered school and she was suddenly more alone that she had ever been in her life. She spent hours on the phone with her mother but it was a poor substitute for what she had lost. A member of her mother’s social circle was starting a company in internet sales and took pity on Jenny and hired her. Jenny thrived in the office’s social environment but she still longed for something different, something better. When she and Steve spent their weekends in front of the television watching sporting events, she always got wistful at seeing the beautiful spouses in the front rows. That could have been me. That SHOULD have been me!

Home cooked meals were unheard of in the Miller house. Each went out to lunch daily with their co-workers. Steve had started the practice as a way to escape from the oppressive bank environment and saw no reason to change his habit when he changed jobs. For Jenny, it was a brief return to the social environment that she had been missing since her mother had moved away. If for just an hour each day, she could forget about being a wife and mother before she had wanted, well at least the mother part. She did skip the social lunch once a week; she had a standing appointment to get her nails done three weeks of the month, the fourth week at her hairdresser. On those days she bought something at a drive thru and ate as she drove.

The evening meal was always at a restaurant, accompanied by a few drinks. They did keep cereal in the cupboard so Jake could have something before school. There were also boxes of junk food so he could have a snack when he got off the school bus. As he and his appetite grew, they began to keep some pre-prepared food in the freezer that he could microwave.

The exception to home cooking was summer barbecues. Steve loved to get a slab of beef and a rack of beer and spend summer afternoons in the backyard. Often, they invited friends over for the barbecues; Steve cooked the meat and furnished beer and wine, the guests provided the side dishes. Jenny was in her element as hostess. Steve rarely included his high school buddies. When they did participate, the conversation invariably went to Steve’s exploits in sports and they all played the “what if” game. It was a painful reminder of what he had given up. HE KNEW, HE JUST KNEW that he could have made it in professional sports! Instead he was drawing up remodels and going to parent teacher conferences. The closest he would ever get now was watching from his chair. He grew morose during those encounters and consumed more beer than he should have. Those evenings ended with Steve and Jenny silently watching the television, each one feeling alone in the room.

[bretf]

Chapter 3

The color had drained from Steve’s face as he and Jenny sat in his car and listened to the radio. It was one thing to have Jenny tell him about it, but hearing it broadcast on the radio put it in a different light. It was so hard to accept despite the past two months of almost daily bombings. Denial had been running strong in him. And to have only one radio station working. He had scanned through the dial time and time again, refusing to believe the radio could not pick up another signal. “How can that happen here, in America? How could they knock off the power everywhere? And just what are we supposed to eat?” He snapped. “Wow, we are so screwed. I just don’t understand. How on earth could they do that to us? Isn’t stopping this kind of stuff why we have Homeland Security?” He stopped talking and thought, while he burped and swallowed down a rancid taste in his mouth. “When you were out today, did you see anything open except that one gas station? Any restaurants or anything. If none of them are open, just what do we have to eat here and how are we supposed to cook it?”

“I sure don’t know,” Jenny answered. “But do you think you could start the car up and warm us again?”

Steve started the motor and looked at the gas gauge. “I can run it a little, but we better not do it too much; I’ve got a little over a half tank of gas left.

“I wonder if Winco or Albertsons is taking cards or checks.” He wasn’t too hopeful after hearing the news reports. With the power being off, all electronic banking would be off line; most likely all banking. The retailers wouldn’t want to accept payment in ways their banks couldn’t reimburse them for. He looked chagrined as he continued, “I’ve got two hundred and twenty cash in my wallet, so if we can’t use the card, does that go to food or gas?”

“Where on earth did that come from? You told me a couple of days ago you were broke, so where did you get it?” Jenny asked.

“Drop it, OK!” Steve said, not enjoying confessing about his stash. “Let’s just be glad I have something set aside.”

“No, I’m not dropping it. You said you were broke and now you have that kind of cash. So,….where did it come from and what else are you hiding from me?”

Steve took a deep breath and cleared his throat. “OK, I had some cash tucked away in my wallet so if I wanted to buy something I could, all right?”

Jenny stared at him while she thought about what he had said. “So, you pay with cash so there won’t be a record. Just what have you been doing, stopping by the massage parlors and the girlie bars? Are you doing something illegal, buying pot or something?”

Steve looked abashed as he thought about his answer. After a long awkward pause he looked her straight in the eyes, “No, it’s not like that. There are just some times I want to have cash for impulse buys, or maybe I stop and have a couple of drinks with the guys. I’ve never done those other things.”

He stopped talking while Jenny scrutinized him, her eyes misting up. Steve cleared his throat again and took a deep breath. “I know I can be a real butt head at times. I don’t always show it, but … I adore you and don’t want to do anything to mess that up.” After another long pause he said, “So, I’m sorry for lying to you.”

Jenny looked at him for a long time before dropping her gaze. “Okay. Now you better turn the engine off.” The inside of the car had gotten comfortably warm during the uncomfortable conversation. He lied to me! He stinking lied to me! Is he sorry he lied or that he confessed? She took deep breaths and considered what she wanted to say. She wiped her misty eyes and stared at him again. “You’re right, we are screwed, so no more lying. If you’ve got other secrets, tell me now, so we can figure out what we are going to do.” When he just shook his head, she said, “So alright, as to what do we do now; I think we should see go see what we have in the house and then see if we can buy anything that we need. I also want to check on the kids.” She made a wry smile, “Since I guess we can’t watch a replay of Dancing with the Stars.”

Steve’s hang-dog look faded at her comment. “No, I guess we won’t be seeing that.” Then he addressed her other comment. “Sounds good,” he replied, still having a hard time meeting her gaze despite her attempt at humor. “Let’s go in, but I’m afraid we don’t have much.” They got out of the car and headed for the house, Steve sidestepping the boxes he had left in Jenny’s parking area.

They started with the refrigerator. “It’s pretty much what I thought,” Steve said shaking his head. “We sure can’t eat long on what’s in here.” It contained a jar of pickles, bottles of condiments, a few bottles of water and various takeout containers. Three of the containers were growing mold; two looked like the food might still be fresh enough to eat. “I think we got these two nights ago,” he said, “So they should be safe. But they won’t last long, this fridge is warm.” He set the moldy boxes on the counter.

“Yeah, I think it’s colder in the bedroom than in the fridge,” Jenny answered. “Maybe we should keep what food we have back there.”

Steve thought about her statement for a while. “That’s a good idea. But how about we put everything in Jakes room and open the window a crack. I think we could stuff a towel under the door and not let too much cold in the rest of the house. Although the way it’s cooling off in here, it might not matter. So what’s in the freezer section?”

Steve opened the freezer section and peered inside. “It’s not much better here. It looks like we have a pizza, two small pot pies and a tube of cookie dough. There’s still some ice in the bin though, so I guess it’s as good in here as in the bedroom.” He closed the door to preserve the coolness. “I don’t think we’re going to have to worry about overeating for a while,” he said.

“That’s for sure; I hope they get the power figured out quick.” Jenny said. “I think we have something in the pantry, but there isn’t very much. Do you want to check it or wait for me? I’ve gotta go to the bathroom.”

“I’ll wait for you. We might as well get the bad news together.”

Steve stared sightlessly out the window until Jenny interrupted his spell, “Steve, the toilet didn’t flush.”

“Oh crud, I didn’t think about that. Of course if the water’s not flowing, the toilet won’t work.” He contemplated what that might mean to them. “So I suppose we don’t have any water except those bottles in the fridge. Geez. I haven’t used the other toilet, have you?” he asked.

“No, just the one in our bathroom. Why, what are you thinking?” Jenny asked.

“That we better not flush it until we absolutely have to. Remember when we had the water shut off at work and we just had water in jugs. One of the guys said something that was pretty funny at the time, but it doesn’t sound funny now: “If it’s yellow, let it mellow. If it’s brown, flush it down.” We have water for one flush, so we better make it count.”

“Ewh, gross,” Jenny said, wrinkling her nose at the thought. “So to follow up that cheery thought, what’s the pantry look like?”

“It looks like our junk storage,” Steve said as he opened the door and looked in. All of the shelves except one had papers, boxes, gift wrap, and an array of non- food items. Steve pulled the food items out and placed them on the counter where they could both see them. It wasn’t an impressive display when he was done. There was a box of cereal, two cans of soup, a jar of pasta sauce, a package of spaghetti, and four Cup-o-Noodles. “Wow,” he said, “We are so screwed.”

Jenny couldn’t come up with a response. Steve had thoroughly described their situation.

One other cabinet had some storage that Steve went to and opened. He pulled out the bottle of vodka and poured a double shot in each of two glasses and handed one wordlessly to Jenny. He stared into his own before holding it up, “Cheers,” he said and clinked glasses with her. He tipped his glass and downed his drink in one long swallow. He savored the fire as the strong liquor burned its way down to his stomach. After letting out a long sigh, he capped the bottle and returned it to the cabinet. “So, what now?”

[bretf]

Chapter 4

Steve handed Jenny a sweat shirt then pulled one on and joined her at the table. “So, we don’t have much food, no heat, no water, little gas, no way to cook, no light. Does that about sum it up?” he asked.

“I think that about covers it,” she answered, then amended her statement, “Oh, and we can’t flush the toilet. So what do you think we should do?”

“Well, the radio said where we can get water, so I suppose we should go there to fill up any jugs we have. That gas station you stopped at is that direction, should we fill the car up too?”

“How about we put the twenty in gas? After today, I don’t think we should drive unless we really need to so we can save as much as possible. There’s no telling when we can get more,” Jenny said.

“All right, then let’s map out our route as well as we can,” Steve said. “There’s that Albertsons store on the way, so we could see if they are open. I’d rather go to Winco for their prices, but do we take a chance?” He made a fist, snapping the pencil in his hand. “Dang it, I hate this. I want to go out and get a burger and pay with my card and fill the tank up when it needs it. I need a shower. I don’t want to scrounge up every container we have to bring home water.”

Jenny watched him following his outburst. It was a reflection of her own thoughts. “Yeah, me too, but until we can do that, we better try to figure out what to do. So, Winco is on the way to the kid’s house, and there is that other Albertsons out there. I really want to see them. I’m worried about them living in that apartment complex, not that we have it any better here, but you never know what could happen with all those people together.” She thought she was rambling with her emotions strung so tight and stopped talking to collect her thoughts. “How about we get gas, then water, and check the grocery stores on the way to the kid’s house?” she suggested.

“That should work,” Steve said. “Maybe while we’re going we’ll see something else that’s open that would have something we need.”

Jenny gave a “humpf” and then said, “You mean like the cleaners? I dropped off the laundry yesterday, so now all those clothes are gone. Maybe if someone is there, we can get them back dirty. That would be better than not having them.”

Steve lowered his face to his hands and gave an involuntary shudder. “What else could go wrong? Just what next?” he muttered.

The line at the gas station was much shorter than when Jenny had been there earlier. The reason was obvious as soon as Steve pulled along the curb and shut off the engine. A plywood sign had been placed well before the station entrance stating “CASH ONLY.” They proceeded fairly quickly to the pump and put in the twenty dollars’ worth. Steve winced when he glanced at the fuel gauge as he pulled away. “Boy, twenty bucks doesn’t go very far. It only got us about a quarter of a tank.”

The radio was on, but turned down low. It seemed to be telling the same gloomy news over and over. Steve considered turning it off, as little attention as he was paying to it while he was brooding over the gas situation and how little twenty dollars had gotten them. And knowing fuel companies, they’ll jack the price like mad. As the car was approaching an intersection with a non-working signal light, he slipped the transmission into neutral and started coasting from a block away. “What are you doing?” Jenny asked him.

“It’s something Bill did when I rode with him one day. He was always coasting to the stops from as far away as he could. I thought it was goofy as could be when he did it and told him so. So he showed me what he was getting for mileage. By driving like an old granny and coasting, his junker was getting mileage as good as a Prius. I told him, “If that was all that was about just drive and I’ll give you five bucks for gas.” And do you know what he said to that?”

“What, that he’d save even more gas if you got out and pushed?” Jenny guessed.

“No, nothing like that,” Steve said. He looked at me very concerned and said, “Why don’t you put that five bucks somewhere that you won’t spend it. There will come a day, not might come a day, but WILL come a day when that money might make a big difference to you.”

Steve thought about the ride and conversation with his co-worker. “I think he was right. That five would be nice to have right now. I just wonder how many other little kernels of wisdom he dropped for something like this that I never heard.” Bill had been most quiet for the most part while Steve and Greg chatted through the work day, but when he did comment on some news story, Bill often tried to direct them to consider “What if” they were faced with that situation.

“So, yeah, some of the things he did were goofy as could be, but I think we need to save as much gas as possible. Besides, it’s not like we’re delaying traffic.” That was definitely true. There was very little traffic, although it was increasing as they approached the water center’s operating pump. There was also more and more foot traffic. People were pulling wagons, pushing strollers, pulling bike trailers, all loaded with containers for carrying water. Some carried backpacks; most carried the vessels in their hands.

Steve pulled to the curb when he noticed the people were becoming a line. He and Jenny got out of the car and retrieved their containers. Like these are going to keep us for long. They owned little in the way of water containers. Besides a large pitcher, the best container they had was the milk jug they had emptied that morning. I know Bill told me something about water, but what was it? Why didn’t I pay attention when he talked? They walked to the end of the line and hunched up to the cold breeze, already missing the car’s heater.

They took their place in the line, Steve wracking his brain to remember what Bill had said while Jenny started a conversation with the couple in front of them. What did that guy just say? Wishes he hadn’t put in the tankless water heater? Water heater, water heater, wat…., That’s it! Steve felt a momentary relief as he remembered. Bill had told them they could drain the water heater as needed. It wouldn’t last long, but it was a lot more water than they would be taking home. A bit of Steve’s gloomy mood was removed as he moved forward in the line.

Near the point where water containers were filled, a sign had been erected with a number of water saving tips. Steve glanced at them, not spending a lot of time. They included hygiene, washing dishes and clothes, cooking. He glanced over one item in the hygiene section and quietly snickered. “Hey Jenny, there are some good tips here for saving water. You better read them. Oh and check out number eight, about washing your hair,” he said.

Jenny cursed as she read the list. “What it’s not bad enough that we can’t flush the toilet, now we can’t wash our hair either? This bites, Steve. It really, really bites!” She forgot all about her friendly conversation with the other people in line as she contemplated an abysmal future without clean hair.

Jenny’s eyes misted up and Steve bit back the comment he was ready with. Jenny was incredibly vain about her hair. Dirty hair just might be what pushes her over the edge. Added to everything else, this just might do it. They waited in silence until it was their turn to fill their jugs, responding in the affirmative that they had read the conservation tips.

They carried the water containers carefully to the car and secured them. “So what do you want to do now?” Steve asked after they were both settled in the seats. Jenny seemed so fragile he decided not to push any of her buttons – this time.

Jenny sniffed and wiped her nose. “I WANT to go to the Olive Garden, but I suppose it wouldn’t do any good.” She sniffed again and fought to maintain her composure. “Lets’ go to the kid’s house, but go past the cleaners on the way, just in case. We can check on the grocery stores on the way back home. Would that be all right?”

“Sure, that’ll be fine,” he said and started the engine and pulled carefully away from the curb. It was hard to start off slowly after years of take offs with the maximum acceleration the car could give. That was an entirely different way of driving.

It was a pleasant surprise when they saw a car parked in front of the cleaners and the door closing behind a figure that was entering. Jenny went to the door and pushed it open. Oh, thank goodness! Finally, something good. She stepped into the lobby that was well lit by sunlight through the large windows.

The owner was going through the door to the back and turned to look at her. “I’m sorry ma’am, but with the blackout we’re closed,” he told her. I knew I should have locked the door behind me.

“Yes, I know,” she replied, “But I was hoping I could take my dirty laundry back. I just dropped it off yesterday. We really need those clothes. Please?” she asked, her eyes again misting over.

The shop owner studied her for a bit before he softened his attitude and said, “Let me see what I can find. The name is Miller isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said, barely over a whisper as he went into the back room, pulling a flash light from a pocket to light his way.

He returned a few minutes later with a bag in each arm. “Here you go Mrs. Miller. I’m sorry we didn’t have time to clean them.”

“That’s totally all right, besides, if you can’t run my card I couldn’t pay you anyway, so this is better,” she told him nearly overwhelmed by the first good thing to happen all day. She gave him a spontaneous hug. “Thank you so much,” she said and sniffed, wiping at the tears that had begun to slide down her cheeks.

Steve stepped through the doorway and looked at the two of them standing so close together. “Is everything okay?” he asked.

Jenny turned to him and nodded, afraid to speak with the large lump in her throat. Instead she turned back and took the bags, croaking out, “Thank you!” and left the store.

A few kids were playing outside at the apartment complex where Jake, Toni and Nick lived, but overall, it lacked the usual bustling activity. The window blind moved in an apartment window next to Jake’s when Steve parked in front of the door, unnoticed by either Steve or Jenny. When Steve knocked on Jake’s door and tried the knob, a girl around Nick’s age opened the next door down and stepped out. “Are you looking for Nick?” she asked. “He’s not here. He said he was going to his grandma’s until the lights come back on.”

“But I’m his grandma,” Jenny told the girl, a knot forming in her stomach. She was still walking the emotional tight rope she had been on for most of the day.

“You live in the country?” the girl asked. “Nick said you have bunnies and chickens! That would be so fun!”

“No, that would be his other grandma,” Jenny told her with a pained expression. “Do you know how long ago they left?”

The girl got a thoughtful look and was still thinking when a sharp voice behind her said, “Rachel, what have I told you about talking to strangers. You get in here right now and close that door.” She reinforced her order by taking Rachel’s arm and pulling her back through the doorway.

“Wait, please,” Jenny pleaded. “We’re Nick’s grandparents. We wanted to make sure they were all okay. Do you know how long ago they left?”

The woman stepped out and gave Jenny a calculating look. Jenny cringed under the scrutiny; she felt weighed and measured by that sharp gaze.

“Yeah, I remember you from Nick’s last birthday.” Her tone indicated that she considered Jenny and Steve like something she had stepped in and wanted to scrape off the bottom of her shoe. “They’ve been gone about four hours. They loaded a lot of stuff in the car like they planned on being gone for a while.” With that statement, she took Rachel by the arm into the apartment and closed the door behind her.

Jenny was stunned by the sudden departure after the terse answer. “What was that all about?” she asked Steve.

“I have no idea, but let’s get out of here,” he said and started for the car. “That woman gives me the creeps.”

Steve gripped the steering wheel and stared through the windshield at the closed apartment door; his jaw clenched. He broke the silence, “So, what do you want to do?” he asked.

Jenny looked at him with wet, red eyes. “I can’t believe it. They went to Paul and Ruth’s just like that. They left us to figure it out on our own.” She stopped talking while she wiped the stream of tears running down her face. She looked down at the tissue and saw makeup mixed in with the tears. “I must look a mess,” she whined and started crying harder.

Steve’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. “Well we sure can’t do anything about it; they‘re gone. So I ask again, what do you want to do besides cry about your makeup?”

The insensitive comment hit home and Jenny wiped even more. After a long silence, she looked at him again. “I want to go see them. I know it will burn a lot of gas, but we have it now and we might not have any later. The way the radio has been talking; this might be our last chance to see them for a long, long time. Is that all right?” she asked in a pleading tone.

Steve loosened his grip and looked at her for the first time since getting in the car. He reached out and took one of her hands and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Sure we can go out there. It beats sitting in a dark, cold house.” That might give you a chance to turn off the waterworks and it gives me the chance to give that kid a swift kick in the backside. He squeezed her hand again and started the car.

Toni’s father Paul had grown up on a small farm. He left it behind when he entered college and never looked back; at least not until he had been in the business world long enough for the cutthroat business tactics to sour him. He began to miss the strong values his parents had instilled in him as he navigated the ruthless business world. When his company was sold to a larger competitor, the company shuttered Paul’s operation and outsourced all of the jobs to India. They had to keep those stockholders happy, even as it destroyed the American economy.

Paul and Ruth did a lot of soul-searching for what to do next. They sold their upscale home in the suburbs and put that money with his severance package and bought a large plot in the country. He and Ruth started gardening and raising animals; working side by side they sold their produce and meat at the local farmers’ markets. They had less money and more happiness than they had ever had together.

As Steve drove through the countryside, he failed to see the vibrant fall colors, the occasional pheasant stalking across a field. The long silence drug on and Jenny looked at Steve, the hurt from his comments replaced with a new defiance. She pulled the mirror open on her sun visor and studied herself. She ran her fingers through her hair numerous times, turning her head from side to side. After the long study, she opened her purse and took out her makeup and began to reapply it. Steve gave her a sideways glance and tightened his grip on the wheel.

A border collie ran up the long driveway, announcing their arrival as they turned off the country road at Paul and Ruth’s house. Steve had laughed at the house the first time he had been there; an older farm house that had been built decades ago. He failed to appreciate the work Paul had done on it with extra insulation, new wiring and roofing. To Steve it was just an old farmer’s house.

Steve came to a stop behind Jake and Toni’s car where it was parked next to the garage. He loosened his vice-like grip and turned to Jenny. She was staring at the car in front of them and was startled into awareness when Jake pulled her door open.

“Mom, Dad, wow; what are doing out here? We were going to go to your place tomorrow,” Jake said.

Jenny turned to him, on the verge of tears yet again. “Really, you were going to come to our house?” she asked. Steve didn’t say anything as he glared at his son.

“Oh yeah, we were going over there. It’s just that we didn’t have enough gas in the car to go to your house and then come out here. We figured Paul would give us some out of his bulk tank to go let you know what we were doing and where we are. And well, I’m sure you know we couldn’t use our cards to get more,” Jake told them. He noticed his parent’s state. “Really Mom, we were going to see you tomorrow. I knew you would worry. And uh, well, we just didn’t think we could stay at the apartment. We weren’t set up for anything like this, and without water flowing, well, you know. Paul and Ruth have the extra rooms, so we just guessed we could stay here until the crews get the power back on.”

Jake looked in the car at his father; Steve was staring straight ahead, his hands wrapped in fists around the steering wheel. “Dad, you look ticked off. What did you want me to do? Go to your house, then not have enough gas to get here? I’m pretty certain you aren’t set up for this any better than we were. Should I have left a note on the door that we were gone? That would have been giving the punks that live there a welcome mat to come and rob us. So think about it, Dad, and tell me what I should have done?” After a long pause, he told them, “Now why don’t you get out since you came all the way out here?”

Jenny looked at Steve while he brooded over their son’s words. He made a slight nod to her and opened the door and stepped out into the chill air. Once out of the car, Steve felt awkward about the entire situation, not liking that his son had felt his in laws were the best option in a crisis. He didn’t like it one bit; especially because he knew Jake was right. That might be what irritated him the most. Some Dad I am, my son can’t even come to me when the lights go out.

Jenny got out and wrapped her arms around her son. Steve looked across the car hood at them. “Okay son, I guess you’re right. But I’m just mad because we were worried about you guys. Now that we know you got here all right, we better be going home.”

Jake looked at his dad. “What are you talking about? You’re not going anywhere for a while. First of all, you haven’t even seen Toni and Nick. You remember them right? My wife and your grandson? I know Nick especially would be very disappointed if you just left. Second, Ruth and Toni made a large dinner and set two extra plates as soon as we saw who it was the dog was barking at.” He looked at them very sharply. “Truthfully, when will you get another hot meal at home? You can start eating cold dry cereal tomorrow.”

Jenny winced at the stark truth in his statement. She had no idea how she and Steve could cook. With everything they were facing, she had avoided trying to figure out how to prepare a meal. They would face that hurdle in time, and hopefully Steve could think of something. She stood there, the indecision obvious; Steve on one hand, Jake on the other. Her rumbling stomach gave extra weight to Jake’s argument. She looked at Steve and raised her eyebrows.

Steve still felt very awkward about being there. They’ll probably have me eat a healthy portion of crow, but I suppose it would be more filling than the pride I’m eating. He met Jenny’s eyes and nodded, nearly imperceptibly. She turned back to Jake and told him they could stay for a while and followed him into the house.

Ruth met them at the door and sized up Jenny’s state in an instant before pulling her into a hug. “This has been a trying day for everyone, Jenny. Come in and have a cup of coffee while we finish up the meal.”

“Coffee? I’d love some,” Jenny answered and followed Ruth to the kitchen while Steve stayed in the family room with Jake. She savored the heat from the wood cook stove as Ruth led her to a nearby chair and directed her to sit.

“Do you take anything in it dear?” Ruth asked her. “And what about Steve, do you think he would like one too?”

“I’m sure he’d like a cup. I use cream and sugar if you have it; he drinks his black.”

“We have cream, but it might taste a bit different. We get milk and cream from a neighbor. Do you have a problem with raw milk?” Ruth asked.

“I don’t know,” Jenny said. “I don’t think I’ve ever had it before.”

Ruth chuckled, “No, I suppose not. That’s all we drink now, but I remember it was different when we made the change. I’m sure you won’t notice in your coffee.” Ruth handed her a full cup and took the other to Steve.

Jenny took a tentative sip, wanting the jolt from the coffee, yet nervous about the raw milk. She had heard someone on the television say that it wasn’t safe to drink. When the taste seemed normal she took a larger drink; the desire for the caffeine jolt overcame any concerns about raw milk.

Ruth returned and went to the cook stove and checked on a pot on the stove. Jenny studied Ruth’s actions carefully. “I didn’t know you could cook with this. I always thought it was just for decoration.”

“Well, it was for decoration for a long time. Paul saw it at an auction and bought it because it was just like one his parents had when he was young. We had it for more than a year before he got it all set up, then another year before we started having fires in it. We just used it to heat water before, so it should be interesting learning how to cook on it. We might have to get used to burned biscuits.” Ruth saw a pained expression on Jenny’s face as she had talked. “So what about you; do you have any way to cook?”

Jenny’s shoulders started shaking and a sob burst out. “Cook? We don’t have any way to cook or anything to cook if we did.” She gulped in air and said, “I don’t know what to do; I just feel so helpless now.” She dropped her face into her hands as she began to cry.

Ruth wiped her hands on her apron as she went to the other woman and put a comforting arm around her. “There, there, dear. I know it’s a big shock, but Paul and I will help you out. We’ll all get through this.”

“But, the radio said the power might be out for a long time,” Jenny said between sobs.

“Yes I know, but we’ll figure something out and make it work. Now why don’t you take that little lantern there and go to the bathroom and get yourself ready for dinner. We have a bucket of water in there; you can pour what you need into the sink.” Ruth looked at Toni and gave a head motion for Toni to accompany her mother in law.

Toni picked up the lantern and showed Jenny how to turn it on and led her down the dark hallway. Ruth’s gaze followed the two women. They don’t have a clue of how to deal with a power outage. One day into it and she’s already putty. What will happen to her if this drags out? She shook her head as she called in to Jake, “Jake, honey, would you please show your father the bathroom so he can get ready for dinner? It is just about ready. Paul, I need you in here please.” When Paul joined her, she filled him in in hushed tones.

The table was illuminated by a gas lantern when Steve and Jenny returned. The aromas that greeted them from the platter and bowls on the table were nearly unbearable. The bowl of cereal had long worn off and they were both famished. Steve sat down, ready to jump right in and eat the delectable fare Ruth and Toni had prepared. Instead, Paul reached out to Toni and Ruth on each side of him and waited for everyone else to join hands before he asked God’s blessing on the meal. Steve didn’t hear a word of it, instead berating a God that would allow his country to go through the turmoil it had been suffering recently. But he did hear Paul say “Amen” and was quick to start filling his plate.

Steve had finished his first serving and was eyeing the platters when Paul picked up a plate of fried meat and held it toward Steve. “Would you like another piece of rabbit, Steve?” he asked.

Jenny stopped chewing the bite in her mouth. It seemed to grow larger and larger. Rabbit? Thumper? We’re eating Thumper? I thought that was fried chicken, not a bunny. She sat with her jaws unmoving while images of fluffy bunnies jumped through her mind. She swallowed what was in her mouth and washed it down with a long swallow of water. She sat for a few minutes before her hunger won out and she went back to eating the vegetables on her plate. The remainder of the piece of rabbit was untouched.

It was mostly quiet during the meal. Steve was still at odds with the entire situation yet glad to eat; Jenny was on edge and the other adults could sense the stress the two were under. The exception was Nick. He jabbered on with the exuberance of youth, happy to have all his family together. That happened just for his birthday. He was pretty sure there wouldn’t be gifts tonight but it didn’t curb his enthusiasm.

When the main meal was finished, Ruth refilled coffee cups for everyone that wanted some and Toni set Nick up to play near the warm stove. Paul fiddled with his coffee cup for a while before looking first at Steve and then at Jenny. “So, how are you two set up for a prolonged power outage?” he asked them.

Steve was staring straight ahead while Jenny’s eyes started to grow misty. It was an awkward silence before Steve answered the question. “Not well, not well at all. We just don’t have anything ready for something like this.” It cut deep into his pride to admit he was unable to cope with the current problems.

Paul looked at his wife and they passed a silent message; the type that long married couples seem to do easily. “Well,” Paul began, “You can stay with us. We have an extra bedroom, heat, food, water; pretty much everything you don’t have there in town.”

Steve stared down at his plate, noting the swirl pattern left by the trace of mashed potatoes. “I appreciate that very much Paul, but we can’t impose on you like that. We’ll make it work somehow. It’ll just be harder than what we are used to,” he answered.

“At least take some food,” Ruth said. “We have a lot of stuff that we put up from the garden. And I won’t take no for an answer.”

“It’ll have to be things that doesn’t need cooked,” Jenny said. “Our stove is electric, so we are pretty limited on what we can use.”

“I can fix you with that too,” Paul interjected. “I have an old camping stove that I don’t use anymore. It can run on unleaded gas, so we’ll give you the stove and a can of gas. Speaking of gas, before you leave, pull your car up to the barrel and I’ll fill the car up to.”

Steve looked like each comment was a slug to the gut. He looked at Paul, too embarrassed for more. “That’s not necessary, Paul. Really, we’ll figure something out.”

“Hogwash!” Paul stated. “The Good Lord provided us with everything we have and if we see someone we can help, well we are going to. So quit arguing and accept the Lord’s blessing. Now come on, Jake, you too, and let’s gather some things up.” His action suited his words as he stood up and started from the room. Jake followed; Steve trailed behind like he was walking to face an executioner.

Jenny watched them leave and then turned to Toni. “Toni, I want you to do something for me.” She got up, beckoned to Toni to follow her, picked up the small lantern and started down the hall.

Toni wondered what was up as she followed along. Jenny went into the bathroom and held the light near her head and looked in the mirror. “I want you to cut my hair for me.” She held her free hand near her ear. “About here.”

“Are you sure? Why do you want that?” Toni asked, confused. She knew how much Jenny thought about her long blonde tresses.

Jenny was fighting hard to keep control of her voice when she turned to Toni. “We don’t have any water. I won’t be able to wash it or shower for who knows how long. I can’t take care of it anymore.” She couldn’t hold back and began to cry. “So, I would rather get rid of it now and have something I might be able to manage.”

“Are you really sure?’ Toni asked again. “Maybe this won’t last long.”

“You mean do I want it cut off? Of course I don’t, but what else can I do? Just listen to the news.” Her voice had risen in pitch and she sounded close to panic. “Now cut it off. I can’t stand for it to get all dirty and ratty.”

Toni did as she was told and took a pair of scissors from the cabinet and began cutting. At the first cut of the scissors Jenny winced. After that she remained still, but with each snip of the scissors, it appeared tears equal to the number of strands of hair ran down Jenny’s face. She stared at the dimly lit mirror; feeling like her life was being cut off with each clump of hair.

When Toni was done, Jenny helped her clean up the mess. They placed the hair in a small trash can, except for one clump. Jenny stared at it before she rolled it up and slipped into her pocket. When the hair was cleaned, up she poured water into the sink and washed her tear streaked face. She stared back at the unfamiliar reflection and whispered, “Thank you Toni.”

Ruth gave a start when the two women returned to the kitchen before breaking into a huge smile. “Jenny dear, it’s lovely,” she said, trying to reassure the other woman. Jenny looked unconvinced. Ruth crossed the room and reached out and framed Jenny’s face in her hands. “Really dear, it looks wonderful. It makes me want to do the same thing.” Jenny remained unsure and stood mute.

“I put together a few things here for you to take home with you,” Ruth stated. “Now, would you like one more cup of coffee before the men come back in?” As if on cue, the back door opened and the three men entered.

Steve had a look of fury on his face, ready to explode at a moment’s notice. He failed to register the drastic change in his wife’s appearance; just stated, “We need to get going.”

Jenny knew any discussion with him would be futile; she had seen these moods too many times before. He needed time to calm down or he would vent his frustration at her. She crossed the room and kneeled to where Nick was playing and gave him a long hug. “I love you Nicky, you have fun here on the farm.” She followed that up with hugs to Toni and Ruth, thanking them both for what they had done. To Ruth, she whispered, “I’m not sure Steve thanked Paul, so from both of us, thank you very much. He can get pretty prickly when his pride is bruised.” She pulled apart, leaving Ruth with a damp cheek.

Ruth turned to the counter and picked up two shopping bags that she held out to Jenny after she had donned her coat. “These are for you dear,” Ruth said. Jenny hesitated, seeing Steve’s stormy face from the corner of her eye, but took the offered bags anyway. They went to the car accompanied by the other adults. Jenny placed the bags in the back seat that had gotten mostly filled up while Toni had cut her hair.

“Remember, you have a place here if you need it,” Paul told them as Steve and Jenny got into the car. Jenny looked back at them as she pulled the door closed, not wanting to leave, but powerless to stop Steve. Steve didn’t say a word as he pulled his door closed and started the engine.

After pulling onto the road, Steve slammed a hand hard against the steering wheel. “Just who does he think he is?” Jenny wasn’t surprised by his outburst; she had expected it to happen. She waited for him to continue. “He’s just like my dad. Thinking he’s so superior, and I can’t do anything on my own, that I’m just a failure.” Steve changed the tone of his voice to a mocking tone as he quoted Paul, “The Good Lord provided us with everything we have and if we see someone we can help, well we are going to.” He slammed the steering wheel again. “So what, we’ve become charity cases just like that?” The rest of the drive home was silent.

The brooding silence in the car was magnified by the eerie darkness. It looked to Steve like they were driving through a foreign land. There were no street lights or yard lights anywhere. Very few car lights illuminated the roadways. Any light from houses was subdued. “How on earth can they do this in America?” Steve thought, “HOW!?”

[bretf]

Chapter 5

The house was temporarily illuminated by the car’s headlights as Steve pulled into the garage. After Jenny pulled the overhead door closed and Steve shut off the lights it was pitch black until he opened his door and the interior lights came on. He left the door open and looked in the back seat, locating the lantern Paul had placed within easy reach. Steve cursed as he picked up the lantern and turned it on and walked to the door leading into the house after slamming the car door. Jenny found the gallon jug of water and followed after him.

It was colder in the house than when they had left it hours earlier. Jenny wasn’t sure what was colder, the house or Steve. He was still in a deep funk from accepting help from Paul. “I’m going to get ready for bed,” Jenny told him, knowing if she attempted conversation a grunt would be his best response. “Can I use the lantern?” Yep, just a grunt.

She sat the water jug beside the sink and thought about the conservation tips from the water center. Was that really just today I read that. It seems longer ago. She bushed her teeth and used a small amount of water in a cup to rinse her mouth and the brush, used the toilet, closing the lid over the non-flushed liquid and went to the bedroom. It was so cold there; she was sure she would have trouble sleeping so she went to Jake’s old bedroom and pulled the blankets from his bed. She spread them over her bed and changed into her nightgown and put on her robe.

She walked back to the living room and looked at Steve stewing in his chair, staring at the blank large screen television. “Are you coming to bed or staying out here?” she asked him.

Again his only response was a grunt so she turned the lantern off and made her way to the bedroom by feel.

Steve awoke sometime later, still fully clothed in his chair, chilled. After considering finding a blanket and staying there, he decided to join Jenny in the bed. He felt his way to the bedroom and cursed after kicking the doorframe, unmindful of Jenny lying in the bed. Sure glad I didn’t pull my shoes off out there. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his shoes and socks, then stood and stripped to his underwear before crawling under the blankets next to Jenny. She was awake but didn’t acknowledge his presence as he wrapped his arms around her and snuggled close. First he gives me the cold shoulder and now the cold embrace. Sleep was hard to come by for her, but eventually the exhaustion of the stressful day overcame her troubled thoughts.

Steve pulled his cold arm back to the warmth beneath the blankets. Wow, it felt cold out there, he thought. He let go with a mental string of curses at the terrorists. If they had to pull this, why couldn’t they have done it in good weather? He needed to get up and use the toilet but wanted to delay the inevitable as long as possible. He felt across the bed; Jenny had already gotten up. He tried to fall back to sleep but his body’s need to void wouldn’t let him. No, it’s cold. I don’t want to go out there. When he couldn’t put it off any longer, he arose and dressed as fast as he could in the cold room.

He opened the door to the bathroom and was assailed by the odors. Yeah, of course, Jenny had to get here first. Oh geez, that’s gonna make my eyes water. He didn’t spend as much time in the bathroom as normal; his sock clad feet were getting cold on the vinyl floor, the smell was horrible, and he hadn’t taken the time to put on a sweatshirt. As he finished, he flushed the toilet without thought and then remembered the fact they only had this one flush. As he stood there mentally upbraiding himself, a sound broke through to his consciousness; the tank was filling. It was slow, but it was filling. He froze in place, forgetting about his earlier discomfort while he listened to the tank continue to fill and shut off. We have running water! Not a lot but,…we have running water!

“Hey Jenny,” he yelled as he started to the front of the house. “Hey Jenny, where are you?”

Jenny came from the garage with a questioning look. “I’m right here. What are you yelling about?”

“The water is running. It’s not fast or with a lot of pressure, but there’s some.” He froze in place when he looked at her for the first time since the previous night’s dinner. He stood in place and stared at her. “Your hair!,” he said. “When, how,…” he trailed off, embarrassed by his behavior at Paul and Ruth’s. “Oh wow, geez Jenny, I’m sorry, I, ….. I was such a jerk.”

When Jenny stared back at him without responding, Steve’s eyes broke away first and he looked around the room. “So anyway,” he said, “There is some water running. I flushed the toilet and it refilled.”

“That’s nice,” she replied. “We should fill the bath tub and anything else we can in case it shuts off again.” She turned and went back to the garage.

Steve followed and watched as she looked in the back of the car. “What are you looking for Babe?” he asked.

“I have no idea what’s in here so I wanted to find out, and maybe pick something for breakfast. So you were there when Paul was getting stuff, what should I look for? Or did you have your blinders on the whole time?”

Steve walked to where she was bent into the car and rested his hand on her back. She stiffened at the touch, a reaction that he noted. “Really, I’m sorry. I just have a hard time believing a bunch of rock chuckers can shut down our country like this. I mean, forever we have seen them on the news facing the Israelis with just rocks. How on earth can they come here and do this? And I just feel so useless to you right now,” he added, little more than a whisper.

She didn’t move. “So, again, do you know what is here and what to look for to have for breakfast?”

“He put in a couple of jars of milk. Maybe we could get one of them out and have cereal. Will that work for you?” Steve asked.

“Yeah that’s fine. Do you know where it is?” she asked and got out of his way.

They were both absorbed in their own thoughts as they ate. When she was finished, Jenny tried the sink and a slow trickle of water flowed out. She rinsed her bowl and put it in the dishwasher to dry and gave Steve an accusing look as she left the room.

Jenny returned with her toothbrush to find Steve – surprisingly – rinsing his bowl. She glanced out the front window and saw a pickup and trailer pulling to a stop in front of the house. She walked closer and studied the man behind the wheel. “Steve, I’m not sure but I think your boss is here.”

Steve joined her at the widow and looked out. “Yeah, that’s Tom. I wonder what’s up.” Tom owned the small remodel and building company where Steve worked as a draftsman. Steve went to the coat rack and took his coat down and pulled it on over the sweatshirt he had been wearing.

Tom was walking towards the door when Steve went out and greeted him. “Hey, Tom. This is a surprise. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Well Steve, I decided since I couldn’t use a phone I’d make the rounds to everyone’s house. I’m sure you’ve figured this out, but we’re shut down. There’s no way we can operate the way we’ve been going, and nobody could pay us anyway.”

Steve was disappointed but not shocked at the news. “I understand Tom.” Steve stared at a crack in the walk as he wondered what the future held, to not have a job on top of everything else. While he was looking down, Jenny came from the house and stood close to him.

“So Steve, how are you guys set up for this?” Tom asked.

Steve was all set to lie about everything when he glanced to his side and saw the noticeable lack of Jenny’s long hair. Instead he thought of his actions the previous night before telling Tom, “Well, we’re floundering. We didn’t have a stinking thing to help with this until our son’s in-laws gave us some stuff yesterday. To put it honestly, we’re clueless.” It was hard for Steve to admit that to Tom, but it felt better to him to have it out in the open.

“So what about that stuff we got from Costco right after those sons of…..excuse me Jenny, right after the bombings first started?” Tom asked him.

It took a moment before the realization set in of what Tom was saying. “Oh dang, I kind of forgot about that. I, well, I’ve been out of sorts since this whole mess started.”

“Steve,” Tom said shaking his head. “Did you even look at what you have?”

“Uh, no, I just plopped everything down and left it there.”

“Well, it’s time you looked. There’re some things there that you could be using.” Tom spoke in the forceful tones he used when lining out his workers.

Steve led the way to the garage door and raised it and went to the boxes still lying in the floor. He looked very chagrined as he bent down and started to expose the contents of the boxes. They contained a veritable treasure of supplies. There was a variety of beans, rice, pasta, soup, dried fruit, hard candy, pancake mix, syrup, sprouting seeds, honey, nuts, rolled-oats, along with other food items. There was a thermos, candles, sterno, flashlight, batteries, bleach, vitamins, first-aid supplies, a bucket with a lid, squeeze water bottles and flannel cloth.

Jenny stared at the treasure, amazed that it had been right in her way for more than a month. “I recognize most of the food, but, well, we don’t know how to prepare anything,” he told Tom. “We were given a camp stove yesterday but we don’t know anything about using it. And some of that other stuff, why on earth is there a bottle of bleach? We aren’t going to be doing laundry. And the thermos? I don’t get it.”

Instead of answering, Tom bent and picked up the disc of information Bill had compiled. He held it up to Steve and said, “Let me guess, you didn’t look at this either?”

Steve shook his head. “You know Bill. He’s such a survivalist nut; it’s probably just got gun manuals and tips on how to hide out like Ted Kaczynski, or something; maybe tips on eating pine trees. Shoot, Bill’s probably hiding out in a cave or something until this blows over.”

Tom gave Steve a level stare and shook his head. “Wow, you really don’t know Bill at all. Do you have a laptop that will run so you can see what is actually on that disc?”

When Steve just shook his head and said “No,” Tom went to his pickup and returned with his laptop computer.

"It sure would have been easier on you to read this at your leisure and print out what you needed but I guess it’s too dang late for that.” And too late to find a cure for stupidity.

As the computer was booting up, Tom asked, “So you’ve got this stuff and a camp stove. What about heat?”

“We don’t have anything. Just blankets.” Steve answered.

“That’s about what I figured,” Tom said. “Do you know what a sheep herder stove is?” At the blank looks on both of their faces he explained. “It’s a light sheet metal wood burning stove; the herders would set up in a tent. You can’t burn it constantly or it will burn through the metal. But if you sealed up the house to just one room, it could take the worst of the cold off. Okay, this is ready. Put that disc in Steve and open it. Then take me inside your house.”

Steve did what he was told. Inside the house, Tom looked around. “I asked about the sheepherder stove because I have one. I used to use it in hunting camp. I brought it and some parts and tools along with me. He pointed to a kitchen window. If we pull that window and replace it with a sheet of aluminum with a hole cut in the center, we could run the stove pipe out it with the stove in front of that cabinet. You could drape blankets at that hallway to the rest of the house and this room could be almost comfortable.”

“That would be great; could you really do it?” Jenny asked. “And what would we burn?”

“Yes, I think we can get it set up. And wood, well that’s what I have in the trailer. Now let’s get to work. Steve, you and Jenny go look through the stuff on that disc and read everything that will help. I don’t have any way of printing so you better take some notes.” When they seemed stuck on how to take notes, Tom shook his head and went to the pickup and returned with a spiral notebook and pens. “Well what did Bill put on that?” he asked to himself, looking at the screen.

He scanned the table of contents. “Okay, Jenny, you asked about bleach. Make sure you read that section on water. Oh, speaking of water, the news said the water corporation has two more pumps running on generators. They’re putting water back to houses, but it won’t be a lot. Mostly enough for drinking and very limited sanitation, so use it wisely. It would also be a good idea for you to store as much as you can while it’s running. There’s no telling how long they can run those generators.”

Tom pointed to another article in the contents on slow cooking. “Read that one to know why you have a thermos. I’m guessing there’ll be information there about a wonder box cooker too. That’s a slow cook method using minimal heat. You’ll need to know it.” As Tom scanned through the contents he chuckled on one line “Options for no toilet paper.” He pointed that one out also and told them, “That must be why there’s water bottles and cloth in the supplies. Make sure you read it. Well enough about that, you two read, I’ve got a stove to put in.”

They started reading the articles Bill had burned on the disc. “Wow,” Jenny said. “He put a lot of good stuff on here. I don’t know if I can do some of this though. It seems so, well, so old fashioned.”

Soon Jenny was copying pages while Steve went to help Tom. The portable generator drew some neighbors to their windows when Tom started it, but none were curious enough to venture outside. Steve was glad it didn’t take long to cut the aluminum sheet and shut the generator off. He really didn’t like the faces staring at them. The wood from the trailer was stacked in the garage. Tom took a single bit axe from his pickup and leaned it against the stack.

When the stove was set up, not leaving anything to chance, Tom showed Steve how to start the fire and put a full box of kitchen matches on the nearby counter. “I can’t stress enough Steve, don’t burn it all the time with a hot fire or you’ll burn it up. You got that?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“One more thing,” Tom told him. “Here’s your pay. He pulled an envelope from his pocket filled with cash. “Things are going to be tough, so use this sparingly. And hide it until you need it.”

Steve stood stunned for a few moments. “Tom, I really appreciate you doing all this. Are you helping everybody like this?” Steve asked, starting to feel his pride rise up again.

“I plan on going by everybody’s house before I’m done. I stopped by Greg’s place first. He was packing up. He’s headed off to his Dad’s place in Oregon. So I paid him and made sure his gas tank was full. Jimmy was drunk when I went by his place. I paid him but I’m sure he’ll have that spent in no time. I sure can’t remember why I hired that guy.”

“What about Bill,” Steve asked. “Are you going to see him?”

“Sure, I’ll go by his place. I’d imagine he’s got a good handle on things though.” They had walked back to where Jenny was reading the computer screen. “You about done, Jenny” Tom asked her.

“I want to take notes on one more page, is that all right?” she asked.

“Sure, go ahead.” Tom noticed her left hand wandering up to where it used to play with her hair. I’m not going to ask.

After Tom had gone, Jenny looked at everything on the floor and the pile in the back of the car. “I want to spend some time getting this all in the house and figure out just what we have and put it all away, all right?”

“It’s fine by me,” Steve said.

“Oh Steve, Jenny said, “The light is nice, but I don’t want to be doing that with the neighbors watching. Can you close the big door and latch it?”

Steve did as he was asked and the two of them moved all of their supplies to the kitchen. There was still noticeable warmth coming from the small stove so after adding a small piece of wood to the fire, Steve followed Tom’s advice and began hanging blankets to seal off the room.

By the time Steve finished, he watched Jenny pouring water into a pot with some of the dried beans in it. “Are you getting those ready for today?” he asked.

“No, tomorrow. That recipe for red beans and rice said you have to soak the beans first, so I was getting them ready for that.”

Steve had seen some powdered drink mix in the supplies. He located it and mixed two glasses and topped them with vodka before a final mixing. He pulled two chairs near the small stove and motioned for Jenny to join him. He looked out the window at the late afternoon sun as he searched for the right words. He reached over and took her hand, relishing the feel of her small bones in his much larger hand. “Wow, this day flew by. But do you know what, I feel almost good about it. It’s not what we’re used to but it feels so much better than yesterday.” What a difference one day can make for good or for bad. He took a sip of his drink.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you earlier,” he said. “Tom paid me for the last week while he was here; in cash. So, now if anything is open, we have a bit more spending money.” He took another sip. “So what do you think we should eat?”

“We still have those pot pies. We should do something with them before they go bad,” she answered.

Steve considered cooking them. “You know, I think I can start one burner on the barbecue and heat it up like an oven. I think that’ll work,” he said.

“It’s worth a try. Just try not to burn them,” Jenny answered.

Steve gave her hand a final squeeze and put on his coat and went outside. He fired the grill up and went back for the pies while it heated. Aromatic smoke was coming off the grill and drifting over the fence when he returned. He placed the pies on the grill and went back to the kitchen, returning with his drink. He took a deep breath; the smell of accumulated fat burning off the grill let him imagine that he was having a real barbecue. He stood where he wasn’t in the thickest part of the smoke, but where he could still smell the cooking odors. He began to day dream about the last time he grilled a steak, sucking in the aroma. He took a sip of his drink. It wasn’t a cold beer, but it helped to enhance the mood. The stress of the previous day was leeching out of him. Everything’s normal, we have electricity, there’s a good steak cooking and I have a cold beer, here to enjoy the solitude of the back yard, then I can go in and watch a game while I eat.

He was lost in the daydream when a sharp pain in his head made him drop his drink and fall to his knees. He wrapped his hands to his suddenly throbbing skull and pulled one hand away after it encountered something sticky. He stared down at the red hand, not comprehending what he was seeing. He was dimly aware of the person that ran from behind him to the barbecue. He looked on dumbly as the cover was opened. He couldn’t gloat about the figure pulling his hand back after burning his fingers on the hot food and plunging his tender fingers into his mouth. It didn’t register in his muddled mind. And it didn’t register when the figure used the grill brush to pull the hot pies into a bag and throw the brush at Steve, still on his knees in the grass. Who’s that? Did I invite him to the barbecue? He must be some friend of Jenny’s. He looked at his red hand. Was I drinking red juice? A bloody Mary? He saw his drink that had somehow managed to land upright into the grass. He reached out for it and picked it up, seeing the red fingers through the glass. He tilted his head from side to side, looking at the strange red fingers from different angles. Wow, that’s weird. He raised his throbbing head back and took a long drink before falling into the grass.

[bretf]

Chapter 6

Steve flinched and tensed up at the sounds from somewhere in front of the house. He picked up his baseball bat and stalked to the living room window. He moved the blind aside enough to peer out, trying to make as little movement as possible. He soon located the source of the noise. The family in the home straight across the street was packing items into the back of their SUV. As he watched, the man stood near the back of the car looking first one way, and then the other while the rest of the family retreated back into the house. When the wife and kids came out of the house with their arms loaded, they stuffed the possessions into the car unmindful of arrangement, got into the stuffed vehicle and backed out of the driveway and drove away.

Jenny stepped beside Steve and he jumped, startled by her quiet approach. “Oh man, don’t sneak up on me like that!” he snapped at her, his hands gripped the bat, ready to swing. Once his heart rate returned to normal he turned to her, “Sorry Babe, I’m still kind of jumpy after getting beaned.

“It looks like the Stewarts are getting out of here. I wonder where they’re going.” His hand ran over the tender section of his scalp while he talked. He had been nervous ever since being attacked in his back yard. Although he didn’t remember anything about the incident, Jenny had filled him in.

When Steve hadn’t come back into the house when she expected, Jenny went to the back door to look for him. At first all she saw was the barbecue with the lid up, the heat coming off it in waves. Puzzled, she scanned the yard and saw something lumped on the grass.

“Steve? Steve. STEVE!” she had started soft, questioningly, getting louder as it became evident he was the crumpled shape in the yard; she cried out and ran into the cooling evening air. When she came up to him she saw the blood matted in his hair, running into his face. She looked away – blood always made her queasy – and reached for her cell phone to call for an ambulance. She swore to the sky when she didn’t find her phone in her pocket and remembered it wouldn’t do any good anyway. “Think, Jenny, think!” she told herself and looked around, feeling desperate with the situation. As she looked, she again noticed the barbecue and thought about the food Steve had been cooking. Needing something to do while her mind raced, she stood and walked to the barbecue. That’s odd, those pot pies are gone. She stood looking at the gas flames, hypnotized while she tried to get her thoughts arranged. Shaking herself free of the spell, she turned the burner off and looked around again. Okay, I have to do something. This isn’t the time to be the shrieking whimpering chick in a movie.

She considered going to a neighbor for help but discarded that thought. Even though they had lived in the house for years, she didn’t know the neighbors, let alone trust them to know she was vulnerable. When she was home she kept to herself and rarely saw any of the neighbors. She had always wanted Steve to find a house in a “better” neighborhood, more like she had grown up in. They probably came and hit Steve anyway, she reasoned. With no other options available to her, she knew she had to take care of Steve on her own; either that or leave him lying in the yard.

Jenny moved back to Steve, trying to avoid looking at his bloody head, trying to avoid getting sick over the sight. She shook him and spoke his name, then shook harder. The only response was a low moan. Oh geez, I don’t know if I can do this; oh geez, OH GEEZ. She gulped a large breath of air and looked upwards at the darkening sky. She rolled Steve onto his back, forcing out another low moan.

I can do this; I have to do this; Steve needs me, became the running chant in her head. She went to his head, Oh geez, that’s a lot of blood; and reached under his arms and raised his head and shoulders slightly off the ground. She stayed frozen in that position, paralyzed, as she watched a line of blood run across her sleeve. The chant resumed in her mind and she pulled herself out of her stupor and dragged Steve the first foot towards the house. She quit looking at the blood and focused her mind on getting Steve to the house, her slight frame straining under the exertion at each pull. Steve moaned after a jerking motion when his head bounced on the lawn.

Jenny could not have said how long it took to drag Steve into the house; ten minutes? An hour and ten minutes? All she could remember was the chant in her head; raise, strain, pull, rest, again. Going over the step at the door was the worst. The height caused her tired muscles to strain harder; the uneven surface caused Steve to groan; the groans made Jenny wince each time. But she didn’t stop. I’m this close, just a little farther, was added to the mantra running in her head. She no longer noticed the blood running off Steve’s head across her arm. She failed to notice that it was all but stopped. The moving was much easier once Steve’s upper body was on the slick vinyl kitchen floor and she was able to get him in the house and the door closed with two more strong pulls.

Once the door was closed, Jenny stood and tried to think of what to do next. In a bit of despair she wailed, “I’m not made for this. Dang you Steve, how could you do this to me? How could you let this happen.” She looked at him lying on the floor then and her pity party dissolved. She noticed how the house had lost all of its heat with the door open so long. Okay, warmth; I need to get Steve warm, then clean . . . his head and see about bandaging it. Now how did he put wood in that fire? She went to the sheepherder stove and studied it; pulling her hand away from the hot handle when she attempted to open it. With a hot pad in hand she was able to open the door and lay another piece of wood over the embers. She jerked her hand away from the heat in the fire box, hitting the side of the stove; the flash of pain accompanied by instant redness on the back of her hand.

Jenny went to the sink and put her hand under the slow trickle of cold water. As the pain receded she noticed the water that was going down the drain and remembered she had planned to fill water containers. She plugged the drain and turned off the faucet as soon as there was enough water to place her tender hand in. She stared down at the reddened skin and considered Steve. Okay, I need to get him off the cold floor and I need to clean his head. I’ll have to use cold water, but maybe the cold will be better. She studied her hand as she thought, then, well duh; I could warm some water on that stove. She dried her hand and set a small pan of water to heat.

Now, get him off the floor. He needs to be where the heat is. I don’t think I can get him into his chair. What about the couch? She studied it and its location and decided it was the best alternative – after she moved it. She moved the table and chairs aside, and then started on the couch. Okay, one end at a time. She pulled the couch away from the wall a little, frustrated at the short distance it moved. Her eyes misted over and she plopped onto the couch and held her face in her hands. I’ve got to get it moved. He needs to get warm. But my arms are so tired from moving him. How am I supposed to move the couch now too? Stiffening her resolve, Jenny went back to moving the couch, first one end then the other until it was positioned near the wood stove.

After resting a few minutes Jenny drug Steve across the floor. All right, this isn’t going to be fun. She tried raising him and pushing his limp form up and onto the couch but didn’t have enough strength. Okay, dragging was easier. If I get back the way I was and drag him up like I did over the step. Her actions followed her thoughts and with her tired muscles screaming at the effort, she was able to drag his upper body onto the couch. Panting from the effort, boy it sure feels warm in here now, she was able to keep him balanced in place while she got repositioned and managed to push his legs up into a stable place on the couch.

Jenny pulled a dining room chair to the side of the couch and fell more than sat in it. I’m exhausted. I haven’t worked this hard since getting rid of the extra baby weight. Catching her breath and allowing her tired muscles to rest, she looked at Steve’s dark form. A shudder passed through her and she gasped out a loud sob while looking at the still figure.

When she felt rested enough she found the lantern and lit it and placed it where she could see the side of Steve’s head. She studied it, with its blood matted hair. I can do this. She gulped a large breath of air and fought the nausea she got from looking at the blood. It’s just a little blood. Everybody has blood. I can do this. The blood was oozing from all of the jostling around. She separated his matted hair with tender movements and saw the cut didn’t appear to be very long or deep. She was more concerned by the goose-egg that had formed beneath the cut.

Once she was composed, Jenny found blankets and tucked Steve into a cocoon. She folded a towel and positioned it under his head; got a wash cloth and her warm water and sat in her chair near Steve’s head. The nausea returned and after some deep breathing and upbraiding of herself, it was quashed and she cleaned the blood away from his scalp, his hair and his face. Taking deep breaths, she separated his hair to study the wound. It looked much better with the blood out of the way. What now?

She glanced around the room and saw the shadowed supplies on the counter they had brought in from the garage that day. There were first aid supplies in one of those boxes. She found the triple antibiotic cream in the stack and applied some to the cut on Steve’s head as carefully as possible. Steve, here’s one more thing to thank your workmates for when you see them again.

She capped the antibiotic cream and replaced it on the counter. When she looked back at Steve she felt spent; mentally as well as physically. She was unsure if she should do anything else, but it was a moot point. She had to lie down before she fell down. All thoughts of the missed meal were gone as she turned off the lantern, pulled up the blankets and wormed her way between Steve and the cushions. She repositioned the blankets and wrapped an arm over Steve and fell to sleep within minutes.

Sunshine was streaming through the window when Steve’s movements woke Jenny. “Hey Babe, what’s going on? What are we doing here?”

“Steve, you’re okay,” Jenny answered, her voice shaking as tears started to run down her face.

“Well yeah I’m okay, I guess, but man, I feel like crap. What’d we do, empty the liquor cabinet last night?”

Jenny struggled to extract herself from her tight spot behind him. When she was out she kneeled at his head, “Don’t you remember anything? I found you collapsed in the yard, bleeding.”

Steve tried to think about it through the headache and nausea. “No, I remember Tom leaving and we brought all the stuff in. That’s it.” He rose to a sitting position and rested his head in his hands. “Man, by head hurts.” He winced as his hand went over the fresh wound.

“Well, you went out back to cook,” Jenny began and filled Steve in on the previous evening’s events. While Jenny was talking, Steve got to his feet using the nearby chair to help support him. He felt like he was swaying and the room was moving. Jenny reached out to help him, but he shook her off, regretting the extra movement that made his head throb more. When he felt steady enough, he took her offered arm, told her he wanted to go to the yard and began to move that direction with slow, precise steps.

Jenny supported him as he stepped off the threshold and looked around; his movements slow and deliberate. The brisk morning air felt good on his head. Jenny led him to where she had found him. Lying on the ground nearby was a wrist-thick tree branch with a small clump of Steve’s hair on it. “I think somebody hit you and stole the food you were cooking,” Jenny stated.

Steve turned and looked around the yard. His thoughts were slow to form but he was certain of the conclusion he came to. “You know, there was always some left over grease on the grill that burned off each time I fired up the barbecue. I think someone smelled that and knew we were cooking. So now, we are going to have to hide our cooking odors or our food gets stolen.” He closed his eyes while a sharp pain shot through his head. “Dang, I wish we had my gun here.”

The look of fear on Jenny’s face showed she didn’t agree. “You know what I think about guns. It was too dangerous having one in the house. What would have happened if Jake had found it when he was little? You know why I had you take it to your Dad’s house.”

“Yeah, I know. But I didn’t have to watch over my shoulder when we cooked then either.” Steve turned and started an ambling walk back to the house.

*****

Steve’s grip re-tightened on his baseball bat as he looked out the window at the neighbor’s newly vacated house, recalling the events of the previous week. His headaches had lasted for days and he never did remember being in the yard cooking. He had found his ball bat in the closet and carried it with him everywhere. They did not use the barbecue again. All cooking was done in the house. They also limited the use of the stove and the lantern. Neither of them had left the house. The outside world had become too dangerous to venture into.

Dang, I wish I had my rifle; this isn’t a lot of protection. He was just about to drop the window blind when a movement at the neighbor’s house caught his eye. A figure with a sweatshirt hood pulled tight around his face – I think it’s a he – moved away from a shrub and looked around. Not seeing anything to concern him, he moved to the door, kicked it near the knob, fracturing the wood around the latch. Another strong kick and the door swung open. The figure darted inside, closing the door behind him. Breathing like he had just run a race, Steve gripped his bat with a white knuckled hand as he made his observation hole smaller. After watching the house for a full five minutes, he dropped the blind and made a circuit of the house, checking the latches on the windows and doors. He peeked out the window one more time at the house across the street. Dang, I wish I had a gun.

[bretf]

Chapter 7

Steve dropped his spoon into his bowl of oatmeal with a disgusted growl. Globs flew from the impact in the bowl onto the table; one glob landed on his shirt and began a slow, ponderous slide downwards towards his pants. It left a trail that marked its passage that resembled the line left by a slug.

“Dang, I’m getting so tired of stinking gruel!” he snapped as he stared down into the unappetizing bowl. “Why couldn’t they have given us a big stock of bacon and eggs or maybe biscuits and gravy?” Actually Paul and Ruth had sent them home with a stock of fresh eggs but those were long gone.

Jenny agreed with his sentiment – but she would rather have yogurt, fresh fruit and waffles. “Well, I’d guess they got the things they did because it wouldn’t need refrigeration. Probably the cooking methods influenced their choices too,” Jenny offered. “Even if we had Bisquick, I don’t know how we could bake biscu--.”

“Yeah, I know,” Steve interrupted. “But man, I’m getting tired of this ….. stuff.” He picked up his spoon and filled it, held it up over the bowl and turned the spoon over, allowing the oatmeal to plop back into the bowl. “The honey and cinnamon and powdered milk helps, but honestly, I’ve never eaten so much grain in my life. I don’t see how cows can eat it like they do.” He glared into his bowl, never noticing the line that now extended to his belt line. “And don’t even get me started on beans and rice. What I wouldn’t give for a good steak right now.” He pondered for a while, “Well for that matter, even a bad steak.”

Jenny swallowed the spoonful in her mouth before responding. “Okay, it’s boring and bland, but at least we’re eating. It doesn’t look like everyone is.” With nothing to do with all their time besides stare at the blank big screen television they now spent a lot of time watching out the front window. Before the loss of power, their evenings had revolved around the TV. They had no hobbies or activities to occupy their time, just television and dining out.

During those hours watching outside they saw a few people moving about, and most of those in groups. Although most were bundled against the cold weather, their movements were slow trudging walks, the coats appeared to hang loose more often than not; small children had sunken in faces. The exception was the younger men with shifting heads and sneaky movements, sweatshirt hoods helping to obscure their faces. Each time Steve saw one of those, his sweaty palmed hands tightened around his ball bat.

Jenny had asked Steve if he knew any of those people walking past the house and wanted to talk to them. He had turned pale and started breathing fast. He hadn’t stepped outside since Jenny had told him about his assault. That, and seeing the Stewart’s home broken into had made a strong impression on him. He had a hard time admitting to himself, let alone to Jenny, but he was terrified of the outside world.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re the lucky ones. But it doesn’t feel all that lucky,” Steve retorted as he made patterns in the bowl with his spoon. “So okay you’re right, at least we’re eating,” Steve agreed as he swirled his spoon around in the bowl and took a bite.

Jenny swallowed another spoonful and looked at him. “So if you don’t want to eat it anymore, I guess you can just skip breakfast. I don’t see any other choice. I suppose we could go see if any stores are open.” She didn’t mention Paul’s invitation to them. Steve bristled at any reminder of his offer and got even more sullen and snappish when she did. Stubborn pride.

“No, I’ll eat it, but I’m not going to enjoy it,” Steve said as he stared at a spoonful before putting it in his mouth.

They finished eating in silence, the contents of Steve’s bowl getting cold before he finished it; the temperature and congealing factor not making the dish more appetizing. Jenny had cleaned her bowl, spoon and the thermos they had cooked the oats in by the time he was finished. Steve set his bowl in the sink, thought better of it at seeing the scowl Jenny directed at him, and washed it and his spoon.

“So, do you want to go out with me and see if there’s anything on the news?” he asked. With no portable radio, they had been going to the garage and listening to the news on the car radio. The story they longed to hear never came; how the power would be coming back on soon and all the terrorists responsible had been detained.

Jenny chuckled, “Naw, I’d rather watch that Fast and Furious movie we got at Redbox since we didn’t get it watched after Dancing with the Stars.” She got a concerned look on her face. “Oh no, I hope we aren’t racking up big charges on our credit card for not turning back in on time.” At the puzzled look Steve shot her, the serious face was replaced by a big grin. “Oh wait, the credit cards aren’t working. Maybe we’ll be alright.”

Steve shook his head at her. “The way things are going, the billing department is probably the one thing that they have on back-up power. Come on, let’s see if there’s anything new on the radio.” There was rarely anything new but anything from the outside broke up the long monotonous days.

They went to the garage and got into the car. Steve was concerned about the battery running down so each time they listened to the news he started the motor and let it run a few minutes. The broadcast came on and this time there was something new. “Steve, did you hear that? The government’s going to help out by distributing food. Oh wow!” Jenny said, very excited about the news that government commodities were going to be made available to the public.

“Hush,” Steve snapped. “I want to hear this!” They both stopped talking and listened to determine the nearest location to their house and time for the distributions. After they got all the information they needed and the news had gone into repeating mode, Steve shut off the radio. He was quiet, thinking about the announcement. The different food would be welcome, but… I’d have to go out. Will the house be safe if we leave; will we be safe if we leave? They did mention the National Guard at the distribution spots. Jenny was quiet while he pondered, knowing he would soon come to a decision and voice it. The only sounds were the pings that came from the car’s cooling engine. Finally, he looked at her and cleared his throat, “We still have plenty of gas, I think we could drive over,” he said. “It would be a good thing to get some additional food and have more of a variety in our diet.”

Jenny thought about it before saying, “I think we should go too. My car hasn’t been run in weeks. Why don’t we use it and then fix the garage so we can get it in here again. That would save the gas in your car.” To herself, she added, “to have enough gas to get back to Paul and Ruth’s house”.

Steve considered her words. But that means going out to the car. But is it that different than opening the garage door? I’ve got to go out sometime; this is totally nuts, being scared to even go out. But what if the guy that clubbed me is out there watching and waiting? How on earth has it come to this, feeling like a prisoner in my own home in the greatest nation on earth? This shouldn’t be happening, none of it. His mental battle raged before feeling tired to his core he told Jenny, “Okay, let’s get the garage rearranged, and then we can get your car in here, and use it tomorrow.” I hope I made the right decision.

Steve got out, and moving like he was carrying an immense weight, began picking up the stuff he had scattered when looking for his dad’s camping gear. He took his time, making sure everything was neatly arranged on the shelves. Jenny joined him and despite his best efforts to make the job last, it was soon accomplished. The stack of wood Tom had given them was next; it was restacked against one of the walls. To Steve’s amazement, the physical action invigorated him and he felt better than he had in the previous days spent moping in the house.

After the floor was swept Jenny went to the overhead door. She was reaching to unlatch it when Steve said, “Jenny, stop! I want to check out the yard and driveway from the window before we open the door.” His voice had a slight shake in it as he talked.

They went to the front window and Steve peered out of a small opening. Not seeing anything to arouse suspicion, he opened the blinds farther and studied everything for a long time. He cleared his throat and told Jenny, “I don’t see anything. I guess it’s okay to go out.”

Jenny had her keys in her hand and Steve had his ball bat when they went to the garage door. As it began to rise and the outside light was lengthening across the garage floor, Steve’s body reacted. The light hit his feet then began inching up his legs. He watched the light increase in a near panic. The anxiety climbed inside him at the same pace the light climbed his legs. His breathing started pumping; in-out, in-out; fast and shallow. He could feel his pulse pounding and sweat was breaking out. The side of his head began to ache where he had been hit. His hands began to go numb from the vice-like grip he had on the bat. With the door at waist height, his mind was shouting out “Stop, put it back down!” but he breathed hard and looked around in a near panic for somewhere, anywhere for him and Jenny to conceal themselves.

Unable to focus on an escape route he turned to Jenny and saw the door had somehow stopped rolling, it was open above their heads, the sound of the rollers had died. He looked around the driveway, scanning Jenny’s car, looking for the shadow figure running at him with a raised club. With his head pivoting back and forth, everything looked normal, his breathing slowed down, his pulse no longer pounded. He closed his eyes and said a silent “thank you”, although he had idea who he was addressing it to.

“So are you coming?” Jenny asked him, “Or are you just going to stand there and bask in the sunlight?”

“Oh, uh yeah, I’m coming,” he stammered out and raised a foot to step forward. The foot came up like he was walking through thick mud; it resisted his efforts to rise from the floor. Slowly and deliberately he moved towards the outside, his eyes shifting from side to side, never stopping to look at any one thing.

He was startled by a cry from Jenny. “Oh Steve,” she wailed and followed that with some choice cussing. Torn between retreating back to the safety of the house or going to his wife, her next words got through his muddled thoughts. “Can you believe it? They busted the window out of my car!” Jenny was standing at the passenger side of the car looking at the absent window; glass chips scattered on the ground and the car seat. She looked into the car and cursed again. Steve found himself standing behind her looking past her shoulder. Glass crunched underfoot. “And they took the stereo.” A hole in the dash greeted them as well as the scattered contents of the glove box and the center console.

Steve reached an arm around Jenny, receiving as much comfort from it as he was sharing. “I can’t believe it. My car has been out here for what, two or three months before the blackout, now after three weeks some dirt bag busts into it.” She continued to fume as Steve got full control of himself then began to look around more critically, noticing the hood wasn’t closed tight.

“Hey Babe,” he said, and nodded towards the hood then moved to the front of the SUV. He raised the hood and looked inside, seeing the void left by the missing battery. The string of words from Jenny’s pretty mouth would have made a sailor blush when she saw what had been done. Finally convinced he wasn’t going to be mugged, Steve went back to checking out the car. The back hatch was ajar and he tried to remember if Jenny kept anything stored there. Thinking about the spare tire, he glanced around once more before getting on his hands and knees and peering underneath. The tire was gone and he saw something else that troubled him. A stain was on the cement under the car. He crawled to where he could see the source. His curses were as bad as Jenny’s when he saw the hole that had been punched into the gas tank.

Steve got back to his feet and looked at his furious wife as she was looking into the ransacked car. He took her hand and led her to the garage, closing and latching the door behind them. They went to the kitchen and Jenny sat down with tears leaking from her eyes as Steve made them each a stiff drink. After he handed one to Jenny and had taken a big gulp from his own he told her, “It’ll be fine. We can just use my car to go to the food distribution tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I guess,” she answered him. And burn up the gas in the car so we can’t get out of here if we really have to.

[bretf]

Chapter 8

“Hey Babe, here’s one for ya, “What is mal…to…dex…trin?” Steve drew the word out one syllable at a time, struggling with the pronunciation of the word. Jenny gave him a flat stare for a reply. “Okay then, what about sorbitol? And soy lecithin? How about carrageenan?”

Jenny gave an exasperated sigh and fighting the urge to snap at him, replied, “I don’t know what any of those things are. They aren’t words that show up in my conversations. Just imagine its science talk for steak and eggs.”

Steve had been reading labels on any food containers they had, trying to cope with the constant boredom of their existence. “I sure wish you wouldn’t have gotten rid of those encyclopedias and the dictionary. It would be nice to have them now.”

Her eyes flashed with a fiery glint and she did snap out at him. “If I hadn’t gotten rid of them! You better clear up your memory buster. It was your idea to get rid of all of that stuff. If I remember right you said, ‘With the internet and smart phones, why do we need all the junk on that bookshelf? Everything is just a few mouse clicks and key strokes away. And besides, the digital information will be all up to date, not limited by the publish date.’ Does any of that seem familiar?”

“Okay, I said that, but come on, who would’ve ever dreamed that someday we would lose all that? I mean really. The internet, electricity? No one could have possibly thought something like that would happen. I still have a hard time believing it, and I’m living it.” He looked into the living room trying to make the television power up by his will power and strong yearning.

“And another thing,” Jenny continued, “You said how we didn’t need any of the other books either. So, I went along with you and WE got rid of all the books and the bookshelf. Now here we are stuck in the house with just a few books that I kept to read to Nick. Should I start reciting the story of the Big Brown Bear, the Blue Bull and the Beautiful Baboon to you? Maybe you’d rather hear me do ‘Green Eggs and Ham’?

“One trip to Best Buy and seeing that big television you just had to have was all it took. So how is that working out for you now?” Jenny stared at Steve and fumed; Steve imagined smoke coming out of her ears.

Steve ran a hand through his greasy unwashed hair and scratched at a spot before answering. “Yes, I wanted the TV, but you did too. We both messed up by getting rid of those books. But man, NOBODY could have imagined not having the phones and internet.” Or shampoo. Steve turned his gaze back to a label. “So I wonder what thiamin mononitrate and hydrolyzed soy protein is. Hydrolyzed; that sure sounds appetizing.”

Steve’s reading material had expanded once they started getting the hand-out food. He still felt nervous when going to the distributions, but after three trips with no incidents, he was getting over his fear.

The first trip had been one of the hardest trips he had ever made. He had stood at the window for a full ten minutes, looking outside at everything over and over. Finally Jenny had told him she was ready to go and went to the garage door. He followed, then stopped at the threshold, his heart rate increasing and the familiar cold sweat returning. She raised the overhead door and turned and looked at him. “Well?” she said, shaking him from his trance.

Despite his concerns, the trip had gone without any problems. The people waiting for food distribution had been well behaved; the National Guardsmen had the area cordoned off and were keeping a watchful eye on the surrounding area.

Steve looked back at the label, and said “Hey, here’s something that’s familiar, ‘Contains egg, milk, soy’; wow, I know at least some of the food we’re eating. Not that I recognized it in this.”

He stared at the label for a bit longer before looking up at Jenny. “Sorry. I guess I never appreciated books. It didn’t seem like we needed any of that with all the conveniences we had.” After an uncomfortable pause he continued, “So just think, the NASCAR season would be over by now. I wonder if Jr. could have won the title. And then there’s football; the early bowls should be played about now. The pros should be making their playoff surges. I guess we won’t have a Super Bowl party this year. Basketball should be ramping up.” He slammed down the hand that wasn’t holding the food label. “How on earth could this happen?”

He stared into the living room, his eyes drawn to the black screen. “They took so much from us,” he murmured. After staring at the screen without it powering up through some kind of miracle he sighed, “Shoot, I wish we didn’t get rid of all of Jake’s games either. I used to hate Monopoly but I’d sure love to have a nice long game of that now. Or cards. How is it that we don’t even own a deck of cards?”

They sat quiet as his hand holding the label dropped to the table. Steve turned his gaze to the window looking onto the back yard and looked at the accumulating snow. “That sure is pretty and peaceful. Remember when we went to Sun Valley and got the condo?” He got a faraway look in his eyes as he remembered another snow storm in a happier time. “That was such a fun trip. After a day of skiing, then eating that great dinner – I had steak and I think you had some smelly old fish – we sat in the hot tub with the snow falling on us. We don’t have any of the wine we were drinking then, but there’s still a little vodka left.”

He went to the cabinet and removed the bottle. After pouring the remaining liquid into two glasses, a much larger portion into his own, he looked back into the cabinet wishing there was a bottle he had somehow missed. Come on, there has to be something left in here. Instead of seeing a bottle pushed into a dark corner he was greeted with emptiness. “Dang it! This is the last of it. Now things are getting serious,” he said with a grimace. He poured some powdered drink mix in the glasses, topped them with water and mixed it together. After sitting on the couch near the sheepherder stove, he beckoned Jenny to join him.

Taking the glass he held to her, Jenny sat down and snuggled against Steve. They clinked glasses and Jenny took a drink and turned her face up to him. “It tastes like you could have made this into one drink. It’s pretty weak.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he answered. He wrapped one arm around Jenny and began to sip from his glass, enjoying the familiar feeling as the mix went down. They began to reminisce about memorable trips they had been on; skiing trips, snow storms. Steve chuckled and asked, “You do see the good part of this don’t you?”

Half dozing, Jenny turned to him, “The good part?”

“Yep. We don’t have to drive to work on slick roads.”

Jenny groaned and finished her drink. She sat the glass on the floor at the edge of the couch and pulled a blanket around them and snuggled closer to Steve.

“No wait,” Steve said. “There’s an even better thing about this.”

“Okay, and what would that be?” she asked.

“Your mom didn’t fly in for Thanksgiving, packing all of her negative baggage and drama. Toni must be relieved not to hear the lecture about how deprived Nick is.”

She had started to bristle at the criticism of her mother but her tired mind couldn’t come up with a proper retort to his barb, a deeper part of her agreeing. Instead she mumbled, “Yeah, I guess,” and snuggled tighter.

The room was dark and cold when Jenny woke up. “Steve,” she said, and nudged him, the loud snoring stopping. “I’ve got to pee and its cold. We should go to bed.”

“Just grab a couple of blankets from the bed,” he said. “We’ll sleep here. I’ll get some wood in the fire.” He moved to the sheepherder stove and opened the cold door. There weren’t even coals remaining. “I don’t want to start this,” he thought, his head fuzzy from sleep and alcohol, a headache coming on from the drink. After the clouds had passed, the moonlight cast a weak light off the snow into the house. He stood up straight and noticed the shadow of the camp stove on the counter. I’ll just start that for a while and turn it off after she gets back with the extra blankets.

With both burners started, he settled back onto the couch and pulled the blanket around him, falling back to sleep. Jenny returned with extra blankets and snuggled tight against him after spreading the blankets over their bed for the night. She was shivering from the cold, thinking only of getting back against Steve to get warm.

Pressure in Jenny’s bladder woke her again. Oh geez, I shouldn’t drink that much before bedtime. That drink didn’t taste that strong, but it must have been more potent than I thought. It’s probably a good thing we’re out of booze. I feel like crap. She had a headache and was feeling sick to her stomach, making her think she would need the toilet for more than to pee. After unpeeling herself from the blanket cocoon, she stood up, feeling unsteady on her feet. The room seemed to be…tilting … and she noticed she was breathing fast.

“St… Steve” she stammered out. “Something’s wrong.” When he didn’t respond, Jenny shook him hard, fighting the queasiness in her stomach. She shook him even harder, “Steve, you’ve got to wake up!” she shouted. Panic entered her muddled thoughts. She looked all around the room and saw the guttering flame from the camp stove. Even in her confused state, she was able to connect the dots. She turned back to the couch and kicked the empty glass. It clattered unnoticed across the floor. “Steve, I think we’re breathing bad air.” She shook him with a new urgency still not getting a response, grabbed his arm and dragged him off the couch. He landed with a thud.

His head lifted and he looked at her with non-focusing eyes. “Jen?” He asked with slurred speech. “What’s goin’ on? Man I’m sick.”

“We’ve got to get out of here. NOW!”

He looked towards her and groaned. “Man my head hurts and I think I’m gonna hurl.”

Pulling on his arm, Jenny began to drag him toward the garage door. “Come on Steve, we’ve got to get out of here.” She started in a shambling hunched over walk, tugging on his arm as he made an effort to crawl. At the door to the garage, she was able to get him to his feet with the help of the door jamb. Balancing him through sheer adrenaline, she made it over the threshold and slammed the door behind her. In lurching motions they went through the dark to the car; Jenny hissed in pain when she ran into it before she expected. Working along the side of the car, she got to the door, opened it and allowed Steve to collapse onto the seat. In his stupor he didn’t notice the brake handle jamming into his side. Jenny felt her way to the back door and opened it and fell across the seat, noticing her breathing was already getting easier. For a moment she thought about the interior light they had turned off to conserve the cars’ battery but the thought was gone in an instant.

She breathed long and deep and as her head began to clear her nausea was fighting with the feeling of her full bladder. Oh not now, she wailed to herself, but managed first to sit up and then to rise to her feet. She turned her head in the direction of the door leading back into the house, but could not bring herself to go there. Instead she felt her way to the garage door, then to the corner. I’ll clean it later she thought as she squatted. Fumbling her way back to the car, she shifted Steve around as much as she could. He mumbled something unintelligible as she got him in a more comfortable position.

She felt on the passenger seat until she found one of the blankets they covered up with while listening to the news. She had never been so happy to feel a blanket before as she draped it over Steve. She felt for the second blanket and wrapped it around herself and collapsed back onto the car’s seat.

[bretf]

Chapter 9

The incident with the camp stove unnerved Steve and Jenny both. Although there was still a little of the fuel remaining that Paul had sent with them, they used the stove as little as possible, relying more and more on the sheepherder stove to cook their meals. Steve was afraid to repeat the carbon monoxide poisoning; Jenny wanted to save every drop of remaining fuel for the car so they could leave. She still held out hope they would go to Paul and Ruth’s farm.

But heating food with the wood stove had its own consequences. The small pile of wood Tom had given them was dwindling at an alarming rate. Steve looked over the remaining wood with deep concern. The house was never warm. They had opened up the windows and back door to clear the air and had never been able to replace the lost heat. They spent their days in their heaviest winter coats and their ski bibs. The bed was piled high with blankets and they slept huddled close together.

“This should be the food day,” Steve said from his vantage point at the front window. “We better go and see what’s on the menu this week. Everything looks clear outside; I’ll meet you out in the car.” Steve never left the house – nor allowed Jenny to leave – without looking the area over first for possible threats.

Jenny looked out the window at the bright sunshine. There was no snow on the ground and a warm breeze had blown away the clouds, making the day look almost spring-like. Her mind was racing as she went into the garage and saw Steve looking puzzled at the car’s dash and fiddling with the radio’s buttons. “Something else wrong now?” she asked him.

“The radio isn’t working. I’ve gone all through the AM and the FM band and can’t get anything,” he answered her and turned the key off.

A knot of ice formed in Jenny’s stomach as she heard the news. “Steve,” she said, “Let’s reconsider everything. Obviously the radio being off isn’t a good thing. I know you don’t like to take help from other people, but maybe it’s time.” She stopped, giving him time to consider the idea. “If we went to Paul and Ruth’s like they offered, it wouldn’t be like we were total charity cases. We could work with them on everything they do to raise food.” Now that she had brought up Paul, she continued faster, to try to make her point before he could blow up. “I mean, you mentioned how Bill never seemed to do anything fun; he was always working in his garden or canning food, butchering chickens or chopping firewood and all that stuff. It was a lot of work doing all that stuff and it has to be even more work now. We would be earning our keep. We wouldn’t just be sponging off of them.

“Steve,” she caught his eyes. “I think we need to get out of here. I’m tired of being scared and cold all the time. I don’t think I can keep living like this.” Her eyes misted over while she talked and her lower lip started to quiver.

His hands had tightened on the steering wheel at the mention of Jake’s in laws but relaxed as Jenny finished speaking. He looked at the few pieces of firewood that remained then turned his gaze back to his wife’s tear stained face. I shouldn’t be putting her through this. I’m supposed to be the provider and protector. “Well, I’m not sure if we have enough gas left to get there,” he replied as he ran his fingers through his hair and felt the reminder of his assault. “But maybe we can figure something out. Let’s think on it while we’re out and come up with a plan after we get back.” He looked at her with expectation, waiting for her to open the garage door.

“Maybe we shouldn’t drive today,” She said. “If you think we’re low on gas, don’t you think we should save what we have? It’s not that far to walk and the weather looks nice. It might even be warmer outside than in the house.”

“Walk?” Steve asked, some of the fear returning. He closed his eyes and leaned his head on the steering wheel, searching for calm, away from the anxiety that had come on him so fast. When he felt under control, he turned and got out of the car. “Well, we better getting moving if we’re going to do it.” He reached back into the car and brought out his ball bat. “I think our packs are out here somewhere. They would make the trip a lot easier.”

He peered into the deep shadows along the wall until he located the two day packs hanging from a hook. He pulled them off with a jerk, creating a cloud of dust that set off a sneezing fit. When it was finished, he took the soiled cloth from his pocket and blew his nose. Man, I sure miss Kleenex. “Well, here they are.” He beat the remaining dust from one and passed it over to Jenny.

“I don’t remember it weighing this much,” she said. “Let’s take them in to better light,” she told him as she started back for the house.

After laying the pack down on the kitchen counter she opened the main compartment and found it empty. One side pocket bulged so she opened it next. “Would you look at this,” she said as she pulled out a tube of children’s sunblock, her suntan lotion and a water pistol. “I must have left this stuff in here after we took Nick to the lake.”

Remembering that trip, Steve hefted his pack, wishing, but already knowing the answer; still he was disappointed nonetheless not to find a bottle of beer. “I don’t think we’ll need those things today. If you think of anything we do need, let’s get it and get this trip over with.” His own pack was empty, except for two caps from the longed for beer bottles.

“What would you think about riding the bikes instead of walking?” Jenny asked. “I had forgotten all about having them, but when you were getting the packs I noticed them hanging from the ceiling out there.” The bikes had been purchased on a whim. Jenny had given Nick a new bicycle for his birthday, envisioning Steve teaching him to ride; the three of them having enjoyable cruises together through the parks. The enjoyment had lasted for one ride, unused muscles protesting from the effort. After taking three days for their legs to feel normal, the bikes had stood unused in front of Steve’s car until he had suspended them above the car to clear up floor space. They had remained there forgotten ever since.

“Are you sure?” Steve asked with raised eyebrows. “I know we could go faster, but the last time we rode I seem to remember you making an oath never to get on that torture device again.” He couldn’t help grinning as he remembered the tirade she delivered once the bikes were parked.

“Am I sure? I’m sure I absolutely hate that thing, but things are different now,” she snapped. “You say we might not have enough gas to get somewhere safe; well I want to save every bit of gas we can so I’m willing to try it this time. Besides, this trip would be a lot shorter than we rode before.”

“Well, all right then. Let’s see about getting them down.” He went back to the dark garage and looked into the deep shadows waiting for his eyes to adapt to the lack of light. “Okay, I see what I did. We’ll need to take the car out first, but at least then we’ll have light to see. I’ll go look around first then tap the door if it looks safe to open.” He went to the window and looked all around the yard, the street and the neighboring yards. After not seeing anything of concern he walked out the door, his bat clutched in a tight grip.

A noise at the corner of the house startled him and he spun to look, fighting his panic while trying to determine what to do: fight or flight. His sweating hands wrapped tighter on the bat handle and he tensed for a powerful swing. A skinny cat slinked around the corner and out of his view. He breathed a sigh of relief and stood watching the spot for minutes while his heart rate returned to normal.

After he had walked around, checking behind the leafless bushes and the tree trunks, he tapped on the garage door. Jenny opened it and sunlight flooded the garage. It was much easier to see the suspended bikes and the ropes that held them in place, the place where they were tied to a hook screwed into the wall.

Opening the car door, he moved the gear selector into neutral, and then went to the front of the car. He looked at Jenny, “Well, you wanted to save gas. It starts right here. Give me a hand pushing this thing out of the way.” He bent over the hood and started pushing. Jenny put her own efforts into helping push. The car rolled away on the flat cement floor with both pushing. With the space under the bikes open, they stopped pushing and Steve set the hand brake, noting the rear wheels were nearing the point where the driveway began to slope down to the road.

The knot securing the ropes was a twisted mess. It had never been important enough to Steve to learn knots that were easy to untie. He fought with it for quite a while before the first knot began to loosen, got it apart and went to work on the next gob. Jenny moved to the direct sunshine to wait for him, basking in the sun’s rays. The feeling of even slight warmth was welcome after the long cold hours spent in the house. At last Steve called to her that he was lowering the first bike to the floor.

Jenny reached for the bike as it descended and helped guide it to the floor. Another plume of dust was released into the air with her touch. The knots on the bike frame were as cumbersome as the other knots had been and even more time was spent getting them free. Finally. Steve went back to the rope attached to the wall hook while Jenny rolled the bicycle into the direct sunshine. “Steve, the tires are flat,” she told him. “How do we fill them?”

He let out a curse, directed at both the gob of rope at his hands and the news Jenny had just shared. “Well, we used to just go to a gas station, but we sure can’t do that now.”

“I remember the bike salesman tried to get us to buy a pump; didn’t we do it?”

“No, we didn’t,” he snapped. “By the time be paid for three bikes we were stretching the budget, if you remember. So we decided to save the money because ‘there’ll always be gas stations’, remember?”

“Oh yeah, you’re right.” She chewed on her lower lip while she thought. “Didn’t Jake have a tire pump? Remember he was always riding through the goat heads and had to patch his tires all the time. I thought you got ticked off taking him to the gas station all the time and got him a pump.”

His hands froze on the mess of rope as he thought. “I’d forgotten all about that, but yeah, I did get him a pump. I wonder what happened to it after his bike got swiped.” Jake had always been neglectful with his bicycle, dropping it in the front yard. They had no idea how long it had been gone when he missed it. Steve refocused his efforts on getting the second bike down from the ceiling while he considered where the tire pump might be.

The second bike’s tires were just as flat as the first, the bike itself as covered in dust. “We sure aren’t going to be able to ride them like this. What do you say to us going ahead and walking, then we can try to find that tire pump later?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, I think that would be best. Let’s put them where my car should be and get your car in its place. She looked into the driveway at her disabled sports utility vehicle. I sure wish we could just get in my car and go away.

They moved the bikes and went to the back of the car, putting all their effort into pushing. I guess we had reached the sloped section after all. Steve was about to give up on pushing and drive it back in, but Jenny asked him for one more effort and pushed as hard as she was able; the car started to roll. As the car neared its normal parking area, they eased up and allowed it to stop. Jenny remained leaning over the back of the car catching her breath while Steve huffed his way to the door, opened it and reached across the seat, and set the hand brake. Never very active, pushing the car had been difficult after their sedentary existence of the last months.

Her breath restored, Jenny went into the house and soon returned with the packs and a glass of water. Steve stood up straight; he had been bent over with his hands on his knees while he breathed deep. “Here,” she said, handing him the glass. He drank while she pulled her pack over her shoulders. When it was settled, she picked Steve’s up from the hood of the car where she had set it and held it out for him to get into the straps. After it was in place he looked out the door, checking again for threats, while Jenny picked up his ball bat and handed it to him and walked out onto the drive way. She turned and looked back at him.

He gave a short jerk of recognition and shuffled out, pulling the door shut behind him. He looked around, cleared his throat, and muttered, “All right, let’s get going.”

Steve’s head pivoted, looking every which way while they walked down the deserted street. Once they turned onto a larger street they began to see groups of people walking and bicycling in the same direction. Some few were coming back the other direction carrying bags that appeared to hold food containers. He kept a close eye on all he could; he slowed and tensed up at any cars that were parked on the street, any board fences running close to the street.

“So,” Jenny began, “Were you serious? About trying to go to Paul and Ruth’s, I mean.”

“You know I don’t want to, but it is looking more and more like this isn’t going to be a short term thing. So, yeah, I guess I am serious.” They walked in silence for a half block before he added, “We probably should have gotten out of here a long time ago.” I’m sorry for putting you through this went unsaid.

“But you don’t think we have enough gas?”

“No, I’d guess we’ve only got enough to get about half way there.”

“So what are we going to do?” Jenny asked him with a slight quaver in her voice.

“Let’s ask the officials at the food drop if they know where we can get gas. I sure don’t want to go looking for it and burn up what we have.”

They quieted as they encountered even more people moving up the street. Many more were coming back the other direction carrying bags. Being closer, Steve noted that most of those had grim expressions on their faces. He bent close to Jenny’s ear and spoke in a soft voice, “I wonder what’s going on up there. They don’t look none too happy about free food.”

“I guess we’ll see when we get closer,” she replied, just as quiet.

Besides the people’s faces, the next thing they noticed that was different was the National Guard’s presence. There was half-again more men and women in uniform than normal; spaced around the large parking lot. The two standing where Steve and Jenny entered looked them up and down, giving an extra-long look at the bat. They passed by without a word and joined the line of people snaking towards the back of the open semi-trailer.

Steve and Jenny listened to the muted conversations around them but didn’t join in. At one point Steve nodded ahead of them and asked, “Did you hear that? He said the radio station was destroyed two nights ago and last night one of the water company generators was wrecked.” As they moved forward, they learned there had been firefights between the Guardsmen at each location and the bombers. Two Guardsmen and four terrorists had been killed. There was gunfire at another well with a generator set up but there had been no casualties. “Wow, no wonder those guys look so uptight right now. Get hit again instead of things getting better.”

When Steve was handed his allotment, he hefted the bag. “This doesn’t feel like as much as usual,” he said.

“You’re right about that,” he was told. “We’ve been ordered to cut back. There’s a supply problem.” At a glare from another man he told Steve,” That’s it. You need to step aside for the next people.”

“But wait,” Steve said, and asked in hushed tones, “So do you have any idea where I could find some gas? We can pay cash.”

The response was an ironic laugh and not quiet. “If I knew how to get my hands on some gas, I’d get out of here before things go even further downhill. What fuel is coming in goes to the officials. We had heard that most of the refineries had been destroyed. And our so-called friends in the sand box haven’t helped us a bit since we aren’t sending boat loads of money over there. There are rumors about gas on the black market, but I don’t know about that. I sure wouldn’t trust anybody that can come up with fuel now. I know I wouldn’t wave cash money around in front of them. So no, I don’t know where to get gas. Next please.”

Steve and Jenny stepped to a nearby table where they transferred the food from the bag into their packs. They went about the job unaware they were being scrutinized. They hadn’t noticed the man a few places behind them when Steve had asked about gas. He had nudged his companion with an elbow and indicated he was watching and listening to Steve. If anyone noticed the pair seemed cleaner and better fed the rest of the people in line, no one gave it additional thought. Steve never saw the predatory gleam in the man’s eyes.

Once the packs were arranged and slung back over their shoulders, Steve and Jenny walked towards home. Tired at the start, the walk had drained them even more; they trudged down the street. “Less food and no gas available. How are we getting out of here?” Steve lacked the diligence of the first part of the walk, demoralized and drained from the day’s events. They never thought to look behind them to see the two men following at the same pace some distance behind them, and later, turn onto their home street that was devoid of any other foot traffic.

Jenny closed and locked the door behind them after they entered the house and joined Steve in the kitchen where he dropped his pack onto the counter. He filled two glasses with water and walked over to Jenny where she had dropped onto the couch without removing her pack. He passed a glass to her and took a drink from his own. Across the street, two forms melted into the deepening shadows.

[bretf]

Chapter 10

“This is the last piece,” Steve told Jenny as he put the piece of firewood into the sheepherder stove. “I guess this is one more reason to leave, although with spring coming, we won’t need the stove that much.”

“But we would still need it for cooking, remember? And spring’s not quite here yet,” she said. She checked the pot of water that was heating and decided to leave it a little longer before pouring it over the oats in the thermos. “Or maybe you want to eat your oatmeal cold and congealed,” she said with a grin.

Steve’s face twisted thinking about that, “Naw, I’d prefer it hot if I have to eat it every day. So what else do we take?”

They had been talking about leaving and what to take with them. Jenny looked around the room and into the living room. “It’s pretty funny isn’t it, all the things that used to be so important that we’re just leaving here. But still, I sure hope it’s all here when we come back.”

The large television set drew Steve’s view. “Yeah, I hope nobody takes the stuff since it’s not really useful to anyone now. Someday though…” he said.

The kitchen counter held two shopping bags with an assortment of their meager food supplies; they had decided they shouldn’t show up at Paul and Ruth’s with hungry appetites and nothing to contribute. Two gym bags were on the floor containing their important papers, photo albums and clothing. Jenny had been hard pressed for utilitarian clothes to pack; most of her wardrobe tended to be a little dressy for working in a garden or handling livestock.

Noticing the water had come to a boil; Jenny poured some in the thermos, capped it and shook it. She added a little cool water to the pot and set it on a corner of the stove to heat; she would use it to clean up their dishes after they had eaten.

“Let’s take a walk through while the oats cook and see if there’s anything else that we should take with us.”

In the living room, Steve pointed to the computer under the desk. “I’d like to take that. It has about ten years of photos on it that I would hate to lose.” The pictures were rarely viewed; they were shot, looked through when they were downloaded to the computer, and ignored except for those rare occasions. Still, Steve wanted to have them if the power ever come back, no, when the power DID come back on.

By the time the cereal was ready, they had pointed out enough things to load the car multiple times. It would need pared down by a large amount when they began to load up.

The oats were poured into two bowls and set on the table along with a can of peaches. The opening on the can was a jagged affair, where Jenny had opened it with a kitchen knife. It had been yet another trying event the first time they had opened a can. The only can opener in the house was electric; Jenny wouldn’t have known how to use a manual opener if she had located one. They had fought with the can, spilling the soup over the counter when Steve’s knife thrust had glanced off at an angle. It was just blind luck neither had cut a hand. But at that, Steve did get a nasty cut from a jagged lid later that had taken days to heal.

They sat down and began to eat; Steve no longer griped about the oatmeal, resigned to the fact that was as good as it got. “So how far do you think we can get with the car?” Jenny asked between bites.

“Well, it’s hard to tell judging by the gas gauge, but I think we should get within at least four or five miles of their place. Hopefully we won’t have to walk too far.” They had decided to drive until the car stopped and then walk the rest of the way. They hoped Paul would still have fuel for his truck to drive to the car and at least unload it if he wouldn’t tow it in.

“Four or five miles, wow. But I guess we can do it; no we have to do it.” It seemed like an incredible undertaking considering the exhaustion she had felt after walking for the food distribution. She was raising her spoon for another bite when the silence was broken by a sharp knock on the front door. The spoon froze in place. She stared at Steve, waiting for….what?

She jumped when the knock was repeated, followed by a man’s voice, “Hello is anyone home? We’re with Idaho Power Company. We’re going through the neighborhood discussing the restoration of electrical power.”

The spoon lowered to the bowl of its own volition, forgotten in the nervous euphoria that surged through Jenny. “Steve,” she whispered, “We’re getting the power back. Oh wow, the power’s coming back. We can live like normal people again!”

Steve got up and walked to the front window and peered out. Can it be real? The power is going to be restored? Just when we were going to get out of here? The front of a white Chevy pickup was visible, parked at the side of the street. The cab was obscured from view by the SUV in the driveway. He changed his angle to look at the door into the house, just able to see a sliver of a man’s back. He was dressed in dark blue Dockers and a snug jacket. That looks like the clothes I’ve seen Idaho Power workers in. He took a deep breath and went to the front door wishing he had installed a peep. He was reaching his hand out to the knob when there was another sharp rap on the door, followed by the same message; his hand jerked back and his heart started racing, his breath coming in gasps.

When his breathing was controlled, he told the unseen person, “Yes we’re here. I need to see some identification.”

“All right sir; here it is. We are going door to door to make sure everything is shut off. When we restore the power we don’t want such a powerful draw on the line all at once that it throws our breakers. I’ve got a pamphlet here explaining everything for you. Now, if you would just open the door a crack please, I’ll pass it in to you.”

Steve’s hand was shaking as he released the deadbolt and reached for the doorknob. The other hand tightened, but the ball bat was leaning against the kitchen counter where it had been forgotten when he went to the window. The sudden realization came to him just as the door flew open in a shower of splintered wood from the shattered door frame, the door hitting him in his exposed face and knocking him back into the room. He shook his head slightly to clear the cobwebs that had coated his brain and felt warm blood pooling in his nose. Three men burst through the doorway, two with ski masks over their faces; the third, the man with the power company uniform wearing a Groucho Marx glasses, nose and mustache.

Before Steve could regain his senses, he was thrust against the wall, his hands jerked behind his back and secured with a large zip tie. Jenny’s screams came to an abrupt stop with a smacking sound from behind him.

Steve was jerked around in a move that sent pain surging through his left shoulder and slammed back against the wall, his head bouncing painfully off the surface. The intruder’s actions all seemed practiced. There was no wasted motion. “So, I hear you have some cash to buy gas with. I think you should just give it to us and we’ll take care of it for you. And anything else you have here that’s worth having in this screwed up world.”

A part of Steve’s muddled thoughts focused on the voice but didn’t make sense of what it said. That voice, it’s familiar. Where have I heard it before?

“Did you hear what I said? I’d sure hate to hurt this sweet little gal of yours to get you moving.”

Sweet little gal? Sweet little gal. A memory was growing in Steve’s mind. He had heard that same voice say that same exact phrase before. He studied the man closer, an image coming clear. The body size and build looked right too. “Jimmy?” he asked. “Jimmy Campbell?”

Recognition flashed in the eyes through the ski mask as Steve spoke his name and he turned away. “You handle this,” he said to the other ski-masked man.

“Wait, Jimmy, It’s me Steve, I know you recognize me. We worked together for Tom, remember? We drank beer together on occasion.”

A fist slammed against the side of Steve’s face, knocking his head aside. “Never heard of him, but you have five seconds to tell us where the cash is or your pretty wife’s face isn’t going to be near as pretty. Or do you think you are gonna call 911?” he asked with a sneer. “Or better yet, we might just take her along with us. She looks like someone I’d like to get to know better, a whole lot better.” The laugh he made turned Steve’s blood cold.

“Wallet on the kitchen counter,” Steve croaked through his swelling lips, swallowing a mouthful of blood. “So this is how it is now, huh Jimmy?” The hand hit him hard again as Groucho went into the kitchen.

“I’ve got it, and how about this; they bagged their food all up for us. We don’t even have to pack it.” He returned with the bags of food Jenny had prepared and dropped them on the floor near the door and went back into the kitchen. “Dang, no booze,” he shouted over the sound of breaking glasses. He returned to the group carrying the gym bags. The first was dumped on the floor, the spilt contents kicked. “Nothing here worth having,” he snarled then repeated the action on the second bag. “Well isn’t that precious,” he said it a fake high voice. A photo album had landed open to a page with Jenny holding a birthday cake alongside baby Jake. “I don’t see anything else worth having in this dump. Where’s the car keys?” he snapped at Steve with a glare.

“The car doesn’t run. Someone stole the battery and drained the gas.”

Again the hand made powerful contact with Steve’s face, snapping his head back, making it bounce off the wall. Each hit in the same place hurt more than the one before. “Quit playing me for a fool. You’ve got a running car. I heard you talking about getting gas for it. Keys now; before we beat the answer out of Blondie.”

Steve saw the terror in Jenny’s face. “They’re in the car’s ignition. In the garage.”

Groucho went to check and they soon heard the car’s engine zoom and garage overhead door open.

Ski-mask hit Steve one more time and went to the garage, followed close by Jimmy, carrying the two bags of precious food. Steve leaned his aching head against the wall and slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. The car’s engine and the sound of a second vehicle faded until it was quiet except for Jenny’s soft sobs.

Steve couldn’t have told how long they stayed like that, but eventually Jenny cried herself out and crawled across the floor to Steve. “Steve, are you alright?” she asked. She shook him before he turned his half-dazed eyes to her. “Here, let’s get you loose.”

She moved him around to see his arms then ran to the kitchen for the heavy scissors. She cut the zip tie, making his hands tingle from the sudden change when he pulled them around in front of him. Jenny was crying again when she pulled him into a crushing hug. “Oh Steve, we have to get out of here. We can’t stay here!” The fear she had through the ordeal came out in her voice, the words high pitched and urgent.

He savored the feeling of the strong hug and was disappointed when she loosened her hold. “Okay, we‘ll get out of here,” he said as he got his feet under him and stood, unsteady. He reached a hand for Jenny, but she saw he could fall at any moment and stood up unaided. He groaned with the effort; his shoulder still hurting from being slammed into the wall.

The doorframe was destroyed around the catch but still had some wood remaining at the deadbolt. Steve locked it and looked around the room, his gaze caught by the recliner. “Help me drag the chair over here.” Together, they drug the chair across the room and pushed it tight against the door. Steve looked around again, “The garage. What did they do out there?” He led the way to the garage. The overhead door was open revealing a brilliant early spring – late winter day. The day went un-appreciated; Steve just saw an open door, a threat inviting anyone to come in. He went to it and pulled it closed, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. Once he latched the door, he turned and leaned against it and breathed a sigh of relief when the room was enveloped in darkness.

When his eyes had adjusted he surveyed the room, going back again and again to the absence of his car. His eyes closed to block out the sight, wishing he could have the day – no, the week – over; to have just got in the car and drove away while they could. They could have left everything behind and just gone away. Now that wasn’t possible. I’m such a failure. His head and shoulder hurt from slamming into the wall; his face hurt from the door and the thief’s fist. He was spiraling into a full scale pity party.

In his mind, he continued to beat himself up until Jenny returned him to the present, “I think we have one tea bag left. Let’s go inside for a while.” Steve followed to the kitchen like he was in a trance, and stood watching as she put the tea bag in the hot water still on the stove. She opened the pantry – thankful she hadn’t completed packing and took out their last jar of honey and put a spoonful in each of two mugs. Steve was still standing, mute, watching her so she eased him onto the couch.

The room had a distinct chill and Jenny wanted comfort. She went to the living room and Steve jumped when he heard a crash from breaking wood. He looked up, half ready to run from the room when Jenny returned with two legs from the coffee table and stuffed them into the stove. She poured the tea, stirred the mugs and gave one to Steve and settled in beside him.

The empty mugs were long cold when Jenny asked, “Do you think we can find the tire pump? We can walk if we have to but it would sure go faster on the bikes. We need to get busy so we can leave in the morning.”

“In the morning? Yeah, you’re right, we need to get going. Sorry, I’m just having a hard time dealing with this. Jimmy? I worked with that guy and this is what he does.” He glanced at the baseball bat; I’d love to hit a home run with his head right now. “Man, if this is how our friends act, I hate to think what the real scumbags are doing now. Dang, I’m sorry I mentioned buying gas down there. We should have just left.”

“It’s water under the bridge. I wish we’d have left a long time ago too, but we didn’t; now we’ve got to go before something else happens. Now, where do you think the tire pump might be?” Jenny decided she would need to take a firm hand with Steve until he snapped out of the funk he was in.

“The tire pump? Yeah, we have those boxes of who knows what against the wall by my car, err, I mean next to where the car was parked.”

How long will he answer every question I ask with a question of his own? I wonder if bouncing his head off the wall did something more to him, especially after that other time? “Well, let’s go look.” Jenny stood and waited for him to stand also. When he hesitated, she went to the garage alone. She had just pulled the first box away from the wall when he joined her.

“Sorry Babe, I’m still a little stunned.”

“That’s alright.” She handed him the flashlight, thankful it had been included in the boxes of supplies from Costco and the batteries hadn’t gone dead. “Point this in there while I move the stuff around.” As she went through the first box, she wished she could load it up and take it along to Nick. Most of the contents of the box and the next box were from Jake’s childhood; toys, books, games. “How’s the irony of this? We’ve been going nuts with boredom and now we find Jake’s books and games. We could’ve gotten a lot of use out of this stuff this winter.”

The third box was the one she was looking for. The tire pump stood up in the corner, wedged by a small skateboard, helmet and elbow pads. She pulled it out in triumph. “Uh Steve, I’ve never used one of these. What do I do now?”

He raised the dangling hose and studied the end under the light’s beam. “Oh right; we take of the valve cap, put this around the valve stem and snap the little lever down, then pump the handle up and down.”

Jenny noticed a slight slur to his word but didn’t comment on it. Instead she bent to the first bike tire and hooked the pump the way Steve had described and started pumping. Air seemed to move in the pump’s cylinder but not into the tire. “What am I doing wrong?”

Think Steve, think. He was quiet while he tried to remember something his dad taught him long ago. What was it? Jenny looked at him expectantly while he tried to come up with the solution. At last he remembered. “Dad would unscrew the top here and pull out the actual pump; the piston part. The seal on it would get dry and shrink. He pulled the dipstick out of the car motor and wiped the oil onto the seal good, then put it back together. It usually got it to seal so it would pump the air.”

“We should be able to do that with my car, right?”

“Yeah,” he said. “But your car is outside.”

“It is, but we’ve got to go out there eventually,” and she freed the latch and raised the overhead door.

The light was nearly blinding after the near darkness of the garage. She was chagrined, thinking there might have been someone waiting outside and she had opened the door without checking first, but no one was around.

Her feet crunched on the glass chips when she opened the door of the Explorer. More glass was on the seat; she pushed most of it onto the car’s floorboard with the base of the tire pump. She sat on the seat, leaned across the console and released the hood latch. After finding the latch at the front and raising the hood, she looked bewildered into the engine compartment. “Steve, where’s the dipstick?”

He had slowly walked out into the daylight when she was inside the car and stood beside her while she looked. He pointed the dipstick out to her and took the pump and removed the piston while Jenny got the dipstick. They coated the seal, smearing oil on their hands in the process. While Steve wiped his oily hands on his pants, Jenny found a napkin in the car and wiped her own hands. They took the pump back into the garage and she stopped him from closing the door. “Leave it open. We could use the light.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes, I need the light to do this.” She hooked the pump to the first tire and was pleased to see it began to inflate with her pumping action. When all four tires were up she told him, “Now you can close the door.”

He did as told while she rolled the first bike into the house, then the second with Steve following behind. She returned once more to the garage and came back to the living room with the tire pump. “Do you feel up to helping me?” she asked, concerned about his dulled mental state.

“Yeah, I just need to go slow for a while.”

Jenny picked up the scattered photo albums and after glancing at a few pages through her tear-filled eyes, took them to the bedroom and replaced them in their spot on the dresser. Soon, the two gym bags were repacked with less clothes, two blankets and as much food as she could fit in beside the extra water bottles. The food was from the remaining stock Tom had arranged to buy, food that could be eaten without cooking first. Fresh water bottles were packed in the holders on the bike’s frames.

Steve watched her go back to the garage and return with the ropes that had held the bikes to the ceiling. She placed the first bag on the rack over the back wheel of her bike and after getting Steve to hold it in place lashed it down. It wasn’t pretty, but after pulling each direction she decided it would do. She repeated the process with the second bag, the tire pump at the top of the bag, then stepped back to admire her work. “It’ll have to do, I guess,” she said, “Unless you can think of something else.”

“No I can’t think of anything else.”

She glanced out the window at the angle of the sun. How did it get so late? “We better eat a good meal and get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a hard day.” More of the coffee table was broken up and put in the stove. The splintered door frame made good kindling. Soon the fire was going again and she had two pots of water heating. She would use one to wash Steve’s bloody face and the other to cook the remaining pasta. Carbo loading before a tough work out – isn’t that what they told us in school? With the water heating, she went back to the living room, dragged an end table out to the garage and smashed it on the cement floor until it was reduced to pieces that would fit the stove.

Steve had settled on the couch while she worked, flinching at each crash. Jenny came back with an armload of the former end table and dropped it on the floor. She started dipping a washcloth in the warm water and washed the dried blood off Steve’s face. She took great care, trying not to add more to the pain. “Well, your lips are a little swollen and one cheek is swollen and bruising, but otherwise you don’t look too bad,” she told him as she surveyed his face and hair. She covered him with a blanket then resumed the meal preparations.

As the pasta cooked she poured a jar of home canned tomatoes from Ruth into another sauce pan and set it to heat. When the pasta was done, she mixed the tomatoes and noodles together, filled two plates and took them to the couch.

“I don’t feel all that hungry,” Steve said as he looked at the pile on his plate.

“I know, but you need to force as much down as you can. Tomorrow will be a long hard day and we’re going to need to eat good now if we are going to make it.”

After doing a minimal clean up, Jenny put more of the demolished end table into the stove. It’s not like we need to save the wood anymore. She got more blankets and nestled onto the couch with Steve and pulled the covers up snug over them. She thought about the next day, worried about the trip and Steve. It will be a very hard day and I can only hope that we DO make it.

[bretf]

Chapter 11

“You need to wake up now Steve,” Jenny repeated, for what, the fourth time? He would look at her with a blank face for a moment and then his eyes would close again. He seemed unable to focus on her face, shadowed as it was by the dim glow of the lantern behind her in those brief moments.

“I need to sleep some more,” he mumbled. “It might help my headache go away. Besides, what’s the rush, we never get up early. It’s not like we’ll be late for work or something.”

For her part, Jenny also wanted more sleep, but it would have to wait. She hadn’t slept well at all. Her mind kept reliving the encounter with the thieves, the terror she had felt while they were in the house. She flinched at each remembrance of Steve’s head slamming into the wall. She would fall into a light sleep and wake up in a near panic when her mind flashed back. “We’re leaving this morning, remember?” she told him, exasperated that he needed reminded. Those knocks on the head must have done something to him. “Try to think Steve. We have the bikes all packed and we are taking off early this morning.” She knelt beside him, talking in a soothing tone. Please be able to go. We have to get out of here. I can’t stay here another day.

He opened his eyes again and looked past Jenny. The sky was heavy with night shadows, just a slight gray light beginning to appear. “But it’s not even light out yet.”

“I know, but let’s eat a little and go. We have a long way to go and we can be part way hidden by the shadows.”

“Man my head hurts,” he said and rubbed his temples with his open palms. He sat like that for a few moments before he put his legs on the floor and pulled himself to his feet. He stood, unsteady, wobbling like he had downed a six pack. Jenny reached out and helped steady him.

“I’ve got some oats and honey mixed together. Try to eat some,” she told him as she led him to the counter where a bowl waited.

“I’m not hungry and I’m not sure I could hold anything down if I did eat; I’m pretty queasy,” he answered.

“Just try,” she told him.

Instead of trying to eat, he turned and started to slowly walk away; picking up the lantern. “I need to use the toilet. I’ll try after that.”

When he returned, Steve’s face and hair glistened with water droplets. “The cold water helped quite a bit. I’ll give the food a try, but I’m not sure.” He only ate a little before he said he wouldn’t be able to eat anymore. The remaining grain and honey were spooned into a sealable plastic container and slipped into Jenny’s coat pocket along with a clean spoon. She sat the dirty bowl in the sink and started to walk away before turning back to the sink. She rinsed the bowl and spoons and laid them upside down to dry.

“Then I guess it’s time,” Jenny said, “As soon as I use the bathroom once more.”

Jenny rejoined Steve beside the bikes. She started looking around the room getting misty eyed until her gaze landed on the shattered door frame and steadied her resolve. “Let’s do it; we’ve got a grueling day ahead of us.” She shut off the lantern, missing its comforting glow the moment it went dark, and turned on the small flashlight.

Taking the bike by the handlebars, she pushed it out into the garage; the light beam bouncing; and stopped at the door. She aimed the light back to see if Steve was following. After a confused look crossed his face, he followed her. She held his ball bat up to him but after he didn’t take it right away she tightened her one-handed grip and released the door latch, clicked off the light and dropped it in a coat pocket, and pushed the door upwards. The loud noise in the pre-dawn made her cringe but she continued to raise it, trying to look in all directions at once. The driveway and street were still and she pushed the bicycle outside and rested it on its kick stand beside the immobile Explorer. Steve again followed, but oh so slowly.

She took a deep breath and pulled the door down until she heard the satisfying snap of the latch and then looked at the front of the house. Even in the dark shadows she could make out enough of it, her mind filling in the rest. Goodbye home, I wish we didn’t have to leave. Then she swung her leg over the bikes center bar and whispered to Steve, “Let’s get started.” The ball bat was held awkwardly across the handlebars; she was concerned she might drop it if she had to react to anything quickly.

He nodded and mounted his own bike and they started pedaling out into the street and into the unknown. The quiet was eerie; Jenny hadn’t ventured out into the darkness except into their own yard. She didn’t try to set a fast pace, instead letting a mantra run through her head, Slow and steady wins the race. It wouldn’t do to tire out right off. She tried to stay in the deeper shadows, searching for as much concealment for their movements as was offered.

Even at the slow pace, the unfamiliar activity made their legs ache in short order. The sun was just beginning to show over the eastern horizon when Jenny braked and dismounted. When Steve stopped beside her she spoke, hoping her voice wouldn’t carry, “Let’s walk for a while, then we’ll ride some more.” She took a long pull from her water bottle and offered it to him. He took it with a grateful look. “Are you feeling any better?” she asked him when he handed the bottle back.

“Yeah, the cool air is helping clear my head.”

“Do you want to try to eat more?” she whispered.

“Naw, the water feels like a rock down there. Let’s see what it feels like when we switch back to riding.”

Their legs tired and rubbery from peddling, they started off again, pushing the bikes. The sun at their backs was casting long shadows in front of them, drawing them forward. It really would have been a glorious morning for a walk and bike ride if they could have enjoyed it; not been pushed with a near desperate need to get away.

They couldn’t tell if they were observed or not, but they never saw any other people until they were nearing the edge of town. And something about those people made them wish they hadn’t been seen. Their suspicious stares seemed to bore through the bags, seeing all of the contents and weighing and measuring if it would be worth the effort to stop the travelers.

Even though they hadn’t been walking long, Jenny urged Steve back on his bike so they could make better time away from the penetrating looks. They pushed hard on the pedals for a short time, each push causing aches of protest from their tired legs. Jenny was looking behind them often to see if anyone was following, failing to register the cars that were parked across the street, neatly blocking it. They were nearly on top of the barricade when it registered.

Strong arms wrapped around her as she tried to stop the bike and a foul stench of unwashed body assaulted her nose. Behind her she heard a muffled “Uumph”, followed by the sound of Steve’s bike hitting the ground.

Jenny was dragged kicking and screaming off the bike and forced to turn to face the assailant. Her first impression was of the homeless people she used to pass on her way to work, unshaven, dirty, brown chipped teeth where there weren’t gaps. But the eyes captivated and terrified her with the leer he directed at her. They were cold, hungry, predatory.

“Well what do we have here?” A gruff voice asked.

Jenny recoiled, as much from the breath odor that assaulted her nose as from being grabbed. She was gripped with terror.

The man released one hand and reached to the snaps on Jenny’s coat and pulled it open despite her struggling. Twisting and pulling with all her strength, she was unable to break the vice-like grip on her left wrist. Two men standing over Steve where he was lying unmoving on the ground looked over, expecting a good show. Steve was forgotten, the men edging forward, anticipating. The man holding Jenny’s arm turned away from her and began to drag her away, her efforts to get free futile. The other men followed close behind, a half-crazed giggle coming from one. Jenny continued to struggle and lost her footing. The brute never paused, continuing to drag her across the ground. Her arm was stretched at a painful angle.

Steve’s muddled thoughts noted the ball bat mere inches from his outstretched hand; left where it had fallen when Jenny was grabbed. He extended his hand out to it, not noticing the lines of blood on the palm where his hand had slammed on the pavement. He got his legs untangled from the bike and pulled himself up into a kneeling position. Focus! I’ve got to focus. Jenny’s in trouble. He looked at the retreating figures as he used the bat to help haul himself to his feet. The knee that had hit the pavement buckled, but he was able to get it back under him and stood upright. The figures were moving further away and he was unsure the knee would support him to catch up.

Steve looked around, frantic, desperate for help. “Help us”, he screamed as loud as he could. He was answered by the silent doors and windows staring back at him. I’ve got to help her! Something, anything; he quit looking for help and instead started looking for another weapon other than the bat, an equalizer, anything, there had to be something. They can’t take her! NO, THEY CAN’T HAVE HER!

His eyes stopped at a rock in the gutter. As adrenaline surged through his body, the knee was forgotten. The rock was slightly larger than a golf ball and he snatched it up feeling the heft of it in his hand. His muddled mind shifted back to a time many, many years before.

Steve’s high school baseball team was in the district championship game for the first time in recent history. With his team leading in the final inning and two outs, the tying run was on third, the go ahead batter at the plate. The pitcher was noticeably tired but he was staying in the game, the rest of the pitchers exhausted after the grueling tournament. The pitcher took the signs, went into his windup and threw the ball with all of his remaining strength. He had velocity, but his control had faltered. Instead of hitting the inside corner, the ball was right across the sweet spot of the plate. The batter recognized the pitch and swung for the fence; the runner on third breaking for home the moment the pitch was thrown. The batter’s swing was slightly off; instead of lofting the ball, it was hit sharply on the ground toward the gap between third and short. Steve charged, throwing himself at the ball. He knocked it down, stood, palmed it, squared up and threw a bullet into the catcher’s outstretched mitt. The ball hit the target, the catcher made the tag and Steve was the hero. All of this flashed through his head in a moment as he hefted the rock in his hand and saw his wife, his Jenny, being dragged away screaming and pleading.

Steve squared up and saw the catcher’s mitt center over the man’s head. He threw with all his might, the rock sailing true. There was a sickening thunk as the rock hit square on the head; the hand holding Jenny released as the man grasped his head and fell to his knees. Everyone else, including Jenny stood in place, not realizing what had happened. Steve reacted first, stumbling to the stunned group, and grabbed Jenny by the arm and dragged her into action. “Run Jenny, Run!” he shouted and turned and swung the bat at the head of the nearest thug. He felt the satisfying contact and turned and pushed at his still immobile wife, and started running with her in tow as fast as they both could move. Some part of him wanted to stand over the man and gloat. How’s that feel you piece of trash, but survival instinct overruled and he ran, oh how he ran.

As they ran, his senses came back and he saw Jenny favoring one foot. The shoe was gone, making her hobble on that side. He paused and nearly screeched in his panicked state, “We’ve got to move faster! Now!”

They ran on; in a slow shambling manner. Steve’s knee threatening to give out with each step, Jenny’s foot protesting from the contact with the road surface. The remaining thug looked at his fallen companions and the two retreating people and gave chase. The glint in his eyes showed no compassion for the two figures on the ground. It was wolf-like and the prey was in sight. As he ran, one hand pulled a knife from his pocket and flipped it open.

Steve’s breath was coming in ragged gasps as he was hit from behind and knocked to the ground. A blinding pain flashed through him as the knife slid through his coat and deep into his side in a well-practiced thrust. He lay there as the thug grabbed Jenny’s arm where she stood stunned, yanked hard and started dragging her towards a vacant house.

Steve’s face was lying in the dirt at the roadside, his eye close to the ground; a pool of blood growing under him. The vision he saw wasn’t the dirt against his face: it was the ball field again, the dirt between second and third: he just wasn’t fast enough. His mind, occupied by Jenny and the unborn baby, he hadn’t broken soon enough. His peripheral vision had seen the flash of the ball as it passed his head by inches and he dropped into his slide, knowing he wouldn’t make it. Jenny, he thought, I’m not going to make it. Jenny! He raised his head just enough to see the sidelines. Jenny was standing with the cheerleaders, her shoulders slumped and tears running down her face. The opposing team’s fans erupted in a loud, thunderous roar.

[bretf]

Chapter 12

“So they even have fireworks, well goody for them,” Steve thought at hearing the loud pops. “Go ahead and celebrate!” The roar of the crowd stopped abruptly. “They must be going to make an announcement. ‘Your state baseball champions for’”.

“Steve, Steve, are you hurt?” asked a girl’s voice as a figure ran to him from the large diesel powered pickup that had rumbled up beside him. He looked at the concerned face as she knelt beside him. It was so hard to focus. I don’t remember that cheer leader. She must be new.

Toni saw the pooling blood and as gentle as she could, rolled Steve over. He let out a loud groan and his eyes fluttered closed as he settled on his back. Toni could see the hole in the coat where the blood had flown through. She noted the location and opened his coat and shirt to expose the area. The tee shirt wasn’t going to open as easy so she put her fingers in the bloody hole and ripped a long tear in the cloth, exposing the hole in his side. Blood was coming from the hole. Not knowing what else to do, she used her Swiss Army knife to cut off a piece of the soiled cloth, folded it and pressed it over the wound.

*****

Jake ran to his mother where she stood motionless looking down at the unmoving body at her feet. She was having a difficult time processing everything that had happened in the last few minutes. Was any of this real? Was she still at home having a nightmare? “Jake, what are you doing here? Where did your dad go?”

Paul watched from the road where Toni had let him and Jake out of the truck. His .270 was held in a ready position as he looked around his surroundings. When he didn’t see any other threats, he kneeled, still watching, picked up the spent brass from his two shots and dropped them in his pants pocket. Assessing the body language of Jake and Toni, he started toward his daughter, keeping up his vigilance of the surroundings. Where Jake was now hugging his mother tight, Toni was kneeling over a prone figure, looking around with an air of desperation. I suppose if that round will drop a bull elk, it was effective when it hit that guy. A knot formed in his stomach when he had the thought. He swallowed back the taste of bile. Later; take care of business now. You can dwell on that later. As he walked, Paul saw a face look out through a window in a nearby house that disappeared when he shifted his rifle in that direction.

Paul took a quick glance at Steve, noting his pale pallor and resumed his watching. “What’s it look like sweetheart?” he asked Toni.

“I think he’s been stabbed. He was awake but delirious when I found him. He passed out when I rolled him over. He’s lost a lot of blood; it looks to be about the amount we get when we butcher a chicken.”

“Well, he’s a lot bigger than a chicken, but that still seems like a lot. Do you have it stopped?”

“I think so for now.”

“Okay. As soon as Jake gets his mom over here we’ll get Steve in the truck on the back seat. We can’t do anything for him here besides getting the blood stopped. You can sit beside him and keep the pressure on the wound.”

“But who’ll drive,” Toni asked. “You and Jake need to be ready if somebody tries to stop us.”

“Jake will have to drive. We’ll chance it with just me and my rifle this time. Besides we made it fine getting this far and Jake will still have the shotgun next to him if we need it,” Paul said. Inside he was quaking, praying they didn’t have any encounters. He knew once they were safe the gravity of his actions was going to hit him hard.

“Yeah, we made it fine getting here, but now the goons have had time to get ready for us.”

“We’ll deal with things as they come.” Paul looked over to Jake leading his mother towards them. Jenny looked in shock. “Besides,” he said quietly, “I don’t think Jenny is going to be in any state to help, so it’s up to you to keep that bleeding under control.” He surmised that it had to be very traumatic to have a guy assault you, then see that same guy get shot right at arms-length. It had been bad enough pulling the trigger from a distance.

“Did they hurt you Jenny,” he asked when the two had gotten closer.

“N…no, not really,” was her subdued answer as she saw Steve. “Is he …?” She left the rest of the question unspoken.

“He’s alive, but he needs some medical care. I’d like to get him in the truck and get back to our place as quick as we can.”

Jenny thought a moment before responding. “Our bikes and stuff should be just the other side of those cars up there. Can we at least go that far before we leave?” she asked. “Everything we have is up there.”

Paul studied the cars not far up the road. “We’ll go there, but then we need to get Steve where we can care for him.”

Steve remained unconscious while he was placed none-to-gently on the backseat of the extended cab pickup. “I never wanted a king cab, but it sure would be nice right now,” Paul said.

Steve was bleeding again once he was settled and Toni got in position to try to staunch the flow. Jenny was white face seeing his condition and had to be led to the truck and helped in. Toni could see her father’s wisdom.

Jake drove slowly to the makeshift barricade, Paul standing in the bed of the truck, still looking all around. They both got out and walked around opposite ends of the cars, trying to watch in all directions. Jake was holding Paul’s 12ga. Wingmaster at the ready. They came closer together on the back side of the cars. Paul looked at the bikes lying in the road with the loose ropes draped over the back tires, disgusted with people. The bags were both gone. “What’s this world coming to? Some hyena uses your folks getting mugged and worse as a chance to run off with all of their stuff. Lord help us!

“I’d like to drag these rigs off the road so they don’t trap other people but we better get your Dad out of here. The bikes and rope are still useful. Let’s get them loaded and get out of this cesspool.” They were soon driving down the road at a rapid pace.

When they were in mostly farm country, Paul dropped his vigilance a slight bit. He passed a water bottle to Jenny that she accepted and took a slow drink from. “How’d you come to be there, in that situation?” he asked Jenny in the soothing tone he used with scared or hurt livestock.

“I was wondering the same thing about you, what were you doing there?” she asked.

“We were coming to get you,” he said matter-of-factly. “We’ve been hearing some disturbing stories from people that got out of town that it is was getting pretty dangerous there. So we decided we were taking you to the farm. We weren’t going to take “No” for an answer.”

“I’m glad you were coming, I just wish it had been two days earlier,” she said. Her words were soft and quavering. “Things ARE bad in town.” She stopped talking and sniffed while she wiped at her eyes. “Steve has never liked having someone help us, and he still can’t accept something like this could happen here. He has always believed in the ‘Might of America’ and we can do anything we want. So he wouldn’t accept that we needed help. He always thought things would be back to normal any day, so he refused to budge. Even after being assaulted in our own back yard and having our food stolen.”

“Hey, hold it Mom,” Jake interrupted. “Assaulted in the back yard? What are you talking about?”

“Well, it was right after we saw you last; your Dad was cooking on the barbeque,” and she went on to describe the unforgettable night.

When she finished, Jake let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “Man, I wish you’d have just stayed out at the farm. We shouldn’t have let you leave.”

She looked at her son, her face full of doubt. “I wish we’d have stayed to, but just how do you think you would have made your father stay? Knock him over the head yourself, and then tie him up?”

They drove on without talking while Jenny cried softly. Jake removed a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. “Here Mom. I haven’t even used it yet.”

“Wow, a clean hanky,” she said with awe in her voice. She began to cry again when Jake slowed and turned off the road onto Paul’s driveway.

Jake drove the truck across the lawn and stopped as close to the front door as he could. Ruth stepped out of the house, knowing something was wrong for them to park like that.

“Steve’s hurt,” Paul told her. “We need to get him in a bed and take care of him. It looks like a knife wound.”

Ruth turned and went to the spare bedroom prepared the bed. Jake and Paul got Steve out of the truck and with one on each side, carried him into the house. They maneuvered their load to the bedroom and stood for a moment. “Put him in the chair first and get his clothes off so we can see what we are dealing with,” Ruth instructed them.

As the layers of dirty clothing were removed, they were able to see the wound in his side that had begun to bleed again. Also revealed were the lacerated palm and the bruised, swollen and bleeding knee. “Wow Dad, haven’t had a bath for a while huh,” Jake quipped, the evidence plain to both his eyes and nose.

Ruth looked Steve over with thorough efficiency and didn’t see any other wounds. “It’s obvious the knife wound is the worst. Lay him down on a towel and we’ll work on that first.” She left the room while her orders were followed. When she came back she had a pot of warm water and cloths. Jenny stood back white faced watching.

“Toni, get Jenny in a chair before she falls down. Paul and Jake; you two clean that wound,” she ordered and thrust the pot and cloths forward. “Toni, you can clean his hand and knee,” she said and left the room again.

Jenny looked up when Ruth re-entered the room carrying a dish pan. Jenny couldn’t tell what she had packed into it. “Do you have medicine to take care of it?” she asked.

“I think we have just what he needs,” she answered before turning to Paul. “How’s it look dear?”

“It looks pretty clean. The bleeding is light so I’m guessing the knife didn’t hit anything vital.”

“Good, good. Now you and Jake roll him up on his side.”

With Paul at Steve’s shoulders and Jake at his hips they rolled the motionless form, making room for Ruth between them. She took a squeeze jar of honey out of her dish pan and held it over the wound. “Paul if you can free a hand up, I’d like you to try to open that cut a little.”

Jenny looked on confused. “Ruth, what are you doing? I though you said you had medicine. I was expecting iodine maybe and some kind of creamy ointment.”

Ruth glanced at her before continuing her ministrations. “This is even better. Honey is an incredible medicine. When it combines with the fluid from the wound, it will create hydrogen peroxide. It won’t be strong enough to irritate the tissue but it is strong enough to kill bacteria. Also, it’s high sugar content and acidity kills bacteria. It’s a wonderful antibiotic. It is thick enough that it will seal over the top of the wound, not allowing the wound to dry out.” While she was talking she squeezed honey directly into the wound. “By keeping everything moist, scarring will be reduced because it lets new skin cells grow without forming a scab. It’s also wonderful as a burn treatment. Some honey is better than other depending on what the bees forage on. Some from New Zealand is supposed to be the best, but this is what we have.”

Jenny looked on amazed at what Ruth told her. “But if it is such a wonder-drug as you say, why doesn’t everybody know about it?” she asked.

Ruth had been putting honey on a gauze pad to place on top of the wound. She gave Jenny a flat stare before continuing, “Jenny Dear, you really don’t want to get me started on the medical industry racket and the drug companies. Just rest assured, this will work.” She put the honey infused pad over the wound and taped it in place. “You can let him back down now,” she directed the men. “Now for those other two.”

She gave the hand and knee a quick perusal and started to put honey on more gauze pads. She handed the first to Jake and instructed him to tape it over Steve’s knee. Looking back to Jenny, she said, “Actually, this one will probably hurt him worst when we try to take the tape off his hairy leg.” After looking at her husband’s grim face, she secured the pad on Steve’s hand. “Toni Dear, we need to warm him up. Go fill some hot water bottles please. Paul, we’ve got this under control. Don’t you have some chores to get done?”

Paul nodded and left the room. The rumble of the diesel engine soon split the air as he moved the truck away from the front door.

Toni brought in hot water bottles and they were placed under each of Steve’s arms and between the legs. Ruth made sure they weren’t too hot; that would have required a towel wrapped around them to protect Steve’s skin. With the bottles in place, quilts were piled over Steve.

“Jenny Dear, let’s get you closer now,” Ruth directed and nodded towards Jake to move the chair to the side of the bed. She spread another quilt over Jenny and tucked the edges down around her. “Can I get you anything dear, a cup of tea, water, something to eat?”

“Some tea would be wonderful,” Jenny murmured. She didn’t avert her gaze from Steve’s pale face.

Back in the kitchen while the tea was steeping, Ruth told Toni, “When this is ready put some honey in it and take it to her. When Steve wakes up, replenishing his fluids is going to be important. Have some rose hips ready to make tea and chicken broth ready to heat.” She put a piece of firewood in the cook stove, put on her jacket and went out the back door.

Ruth found Paul sitting near the window in his shop. His Bible was open on the bench beside him; his head was bent forward, his face in his hands. He looked up with tears streaking down his weathered face when he heard the door close.

“Paul, honey, are you all right?” Ruth asked.

“No I’m not. I did a horrible thing today, a truly horrible thing. I ended a man’s life.” The words came out in a soft whisper. Ruth had to strain to hear him.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” he said just as softly and then continued to speak. “It looked like someone had put up a makeshift roadblock with some cars so we were approaching it slowly. As we neared it we saw some goon dragging a woman away. Jake recognized it was Jenny. I didn’t see Steve right away but Toni saw something on the ground so Jake and I piled out to help his mom. I put a warning shot right at the guy’s feet and he just looked at me and then started pulling Jenny even harder. He looked right at me and went back to what he was doing. The next shot was for keeps,” he finished, barely audible.

“You only did what you had to do. Jenny was in grave danger. That man didn’t leave you any choice, especially after he ignored your warning shot. I think you were placed there at that time for a purpose. If you would have hesitated or been just a little slower, Jenny wouldn’t be here now.” She pulled one of his callused hands up and wrapped it in both of hers.

“I know that; I knew I might have to do that when I first started carrying a gun. I made the decision then; that faced with my family in peril, I would shoot. But that doesn’t make it any easier. Life is precious; even though a lot of people don’t share my opinion, it is. That man was someone’s son and I ended his life. Some parents might be sitting in their own house wondering when their son will come home. He never will and it’s something I’ll have to live with the rest of my life.” Fresh tears ran down his face, contrasting sharply with the sun and wind hardened features.

Ruth was at a loss for words to comfort him, electing to squeeze and pat his hand. After a long silence Paul spoke, “I would do it again, faced with the same circumstances,” he said. “But I would cry and pray over being thrust into that situation. I can only ask the Lord not to place that load on me again.”

[bretf]

Chapter 13

Jenny was amazed at Steve’s recovery. The honey did everything Ruth had assured her it would do. Daily changes of the dressing showed the wound was healing rapid and clean. If she hadn’t been so concerned for him she would have laughed at his reaction when the tape was removed from his knee. When it was apparent he was getting better each day, she did laugh at the ribbing Jake gave him at his insistence to shave that section.

Steve was soon sitting up in bed, ready to get up and move around. Ruth forbid it; requiring him to stay in bed until she was satisfied the knife cut wouldn’t open up again. The first two days he was there, she had only allowed him liquids, however there was a lot available. He never knew Jello made a good hot drink; prior to that, he had only had it in the chilled, gelatinous form, most of the time in shooters laced with rum. After the two days, the chicken broth had become chicken soup with soft vegetables, noodles and small bites of meat.

He was going stir crazy lying in bed all the time. Even though he had done little more for the last four months, at least he could move around in his house. He made up shapes in the textured ceiling surface, just like the clouds on the outside. He would gaze out the window, seeing the early signs of spring starting to show and daydream of sitting out in the sunshine, longing to be watching the real clouds. Other times, he was lulled to sleep by rain hitting the window.

“How you holding up,” Paul asked him one morning, pulling up the chair beside the bed. “I know Ruth can be a pretty determined warden when she sets her mind to it.”

Steve grinned at the warden comment. “Yeah, she keeps pretty tight tabs on me. My side is feeling good, but man, I’m about to crawl the walls here.”

“Are you a reader?” Paul asked.

“Not usually, but I’m willing to start now. Anything to break up the monotony of just laying around.”

Paul held up two books. “Here are a couple of books you might try. This one,” he held up The Encyclopedia of Country Living by Carla Emery “is full of useful information for the way we are living now. And this one is fiction.” He held up One Second After by William Forstchen. “You might find it interesting too.” He passed both books over to Steve.

Steve studied the book covers. “It doesn’t look much like Sports Illustrated but I guess I can give them a shot.”

Paul stood and hitched his pants up. “Sorry, no Sports Illustrated here; not even the swimsuit issue.” He reached over and patted Steve on the shoulder. “You’ll be up and about soon. Then we’ll see about fixing your boredom.”

Jenny had watched the exchange from outside the door and followed Paul to the kitchen. “That was nice of you Paul. I, ah, I mean WE are so grateful to you and Ruth for everything, but we don’t want to be treated as guests. We’ve been discussing it, and we want to earn our keep here. We really don’t have any idea of what to do but we’re willing to learn. If you’re patient with us we’ll do whatever you need done to help out.”

Paul looked over his coffee cup at her and thought. “Well, there is a lot of work here since we are pretty much providing for ourselves. But it’s messy business. The rabbits and chickens don’t magically appear in a cellophane wrapper, or get delivered by the waiter to the table. The manure doesn’t just fall on the ground where it’s needed.”

She digested what he said before answering, “Yes, we know it will be hard and messy, but we have to do it.”

“All right then, I was just going to go back outside and get to work. Let’s get bundled up and I’ll show you around.” He went to the coat and boot rack near the back door. “First thing is footwear. There’s a cowboy poet by the name of Baxter Black that I like. One of his lines that has stuck with me forever is “Here in cow country, there are two seasons: winter and mud”, or something to that effect. It just happens that we are in the mud season now. Once the ground thawed out and softened, and then getting those rains we’ve had recently, it’s a mess out there.” He pointed to a pair of irrigator boots. “Those are Ruth’s. I think your feet are about the same size. So put those on instead of the shoes you’re wearing. There are some spare boots in the shop. Let’s try to remember to bring them in when we come back to the house.” He knew very well Jenny could wear Ruth’s shoes; that was what she had been wearing since arriving at the farm with only one shoe. They each changed shoes and Paul handed Jenny her coat before donning his own. A shelf above the coat hooks held a box that he took down. “These should work for you,” he said, removing a pair of brown Jersey gloves and a wool cap. When they were both prepared for the cool weather he led the way outside.

He took her first to the chicken house and pen. “So here is the egg factory. Now while it is freezing pretty hard every night, we pack out a tea kettle of hot water each morning to melt the ice and make sure they have good drinking water during the day. Lack of water slows down the egg production more than lack of food. This time of year, they are just starting to lay more eggs as we get more natural daylight. The amount of light really affects their production. The hens lay during the day, so we gather eggs in the late afternoon. If we leave them over night, they’ll most likely freeze and break.” He pointed out the feeders. “I keep food in those feeders all the time. They can eat however much they want. We also give them all the vegetable scraps.”

“So why do you have two big pens for them but I don’t see any chickens out in the other pen?” Jenny asked.

“Because I’m lazy,” he said with a big grin. The fenced off areas were each about a half-acre in size with the hen house between them. “I’d love to have the hens free range and feed themselves as much as possible, so this is the next best thing, at least for me. See those plant stalks there? That’s from last summer’s garden. Once the garden freezes up, I put the chickens in that garden space. They spend a year cleaning up the ground and spreading fertilizer. They’re also great for bug control. While they are on this side, we’ll grow the garden in the other patch this year. We switch sides each year. That way one side is not having the nutrients pulled out but instead is getting nourished and cleaned up by the hens. Another thing about the chickens is the manure.” He pointed at a pile behind the chicken house. “They poop a lot from the roost and every so often we have to shovel it out. We let it sit in the pile as long as we can before spreading it on the garden. And we spread it pretty thin. Chicken manure is very hot, I guess technically it’s high in nitrogen. It will burn up the plants if there is a lot of it. So we spread it in a thin layer and work it into the soil. But we try not to put it where the root crops are going to be. Lots of nitrogen tends to make some interesting root shapes.”

“That seems like a lot to know,” Jenny said, overwhelmed by the information.

“It is a lot but you don’t have to remember it all right off. It gets easier the more you’re around it.”

“I hope so,” she said.

Paul led the way towards the machine shed where the tractors and machinery were parked out of the weather. One end section didn’t have anything parked in it. When they got there, Jenny saw there were rabbit hutches lining the wall. “So there are the rabbits. We don’t raise them for pets; we raise them for the table.” Paul had noticed she hadn’t finished eating the piece on her plate when she and Steve had been there right after the blackout began. “We give them food and water every day. When the young are six weeks old, I take them away from the mother and put them in the grow pen. He indicated a much larger pen with a number of rabbits inside it. When they are three months old they are usually around five pounds, perfect size for eating, so that’s when we butcher. When we went to the farmers market, I would butcher a bunch of them at the same time. Now we butcher strictly for the table. Speaking of that, Ruth wants me to butcher a couple today. Do you think you’ll be up for helping me out with it?”

Jenny took a deep breath and said, “I guess I’ll have to be won’t I.”

“That’s the spirit,” he told her. “To tell you the truth, I don’t like killing them myself; but it’s that or become a vegetarian and I’m not ready to make that change,” he said with a chuckle. “But if you want to take a pass on it this time, Jake is working in the greenhouse. There is always stuff to do in there, and I’m sure he’d be happy for your help.”

“I have to learn it sooner or later, so I might as well do it now.”

Paul studied her, liking the resolve he saw in her face. “All right, I’ll also welcome the help. Now speaking of the greenhouse, notice those trays under the hutches catching the droppings? We take that and use it to fertilize the soil in the greenhouse. It’s a lot easier to work with than the chicken manure. Besides that, it doesn’t smell as bad; that’s pretty important to me in the enclosed space.”

He began to walk away and Jenny fell in beside him. He went to a pasture where a group of red cattle with white faces were eating hay. She saw one smaller brown cow. “That one cow is different. Why?” she asked.

“She will soon be our milk cow. I traded a beef steer for her this winter; she’s a jersey, the rest are herefords. A jersey cow produces a lot of milk that is really rich with cream. Once she freshens,” Paul saw the puzzled look at the term and changed the wording, “Once she has her calf that is, we’ll milk her every morning and evening. She’ll produce more milk than we can use and we’ll have all the fresh butter and cottage cheese and cream that we want. Now for the cows, we have to make sure they have water and we put out a couple of bales of hay each morning and evening.”

Paul continued to walk and pointed to the large greenhouse. “Of course, that’s the greenhouse. We grow a lot of vegetables in there. We’ve been picking fresh salad greens, carrots, beets and small onions out of there all winter. You’ll have the opportunity to spend a lot of time working in there. The fruit trees are there,” he said pointing, “and the grapes over there.” Again he indicated by pointing. We have to do a lot of pruning on them pretty soon. I usually prune after the hard freezes are past but the new growth hasn’t started yet.”

Paul led the way toward the shop. “Well, Ruth asked for rabbits so I better get that job done. I understand if you don’t want to watch.”

“No, I’ll help. But I need to know now; do you provide barf bags like the airlines?”

Paul looked aside at her to see if she was serious or joking. He couldn’t tell, maybe a little of each. “We’re going to need a pan to put the meat in. Would you mind going to the house and getting it? Ruth or Toni either one can show you where they are.”

Jenny went to the house while Paul continued on to the shop. He took his container of pellets off the shelf and put them in his coat pocket, picked up a sharp knife and a cut hook from the same shelf and his air rifle in the other hand. He returned to the machine shed and laid his tools down on a small hand-crafted wooden table. The table wasn’t much to look at, but was sturdily built to a height that made for easy working.

The rabbits came toward the door of the cage when he opened it, thinking he might have a treat for them. He felt the twinge of guilt he always had at that moment and asked a quick blessing on his activities while thanking the Lord for providing for his family. With a struggling rabbit in one hand, he managed to get the door latched, barely, without losing his hold. He went behind the structure to an area with a short fence around some grass. It was wilted and dormant with the winter weather, the first new shoots of green just showing, but would be a lush green spot in a few weeks. A similar round of wire was a few feet away. The rabbit snuffled around in the grass while Paul returned for the rifle. He pumped it up, loaded it and went back to the pen. After another quick prayer he held the rifle to the back of the rabbits head and fired. It collapsed on its side and began to kick and thrash around. He turned and saw Jenny at the corner of the machine shed, staring white faced at the rabbit. Paul got a second rabbit and repeated the process. “Some people just snap their necks but I never liked that method. I’ll do it this way as long as I have pellets for the air rifle, and then . . .”

After putting the gun back inside the machine shed, the rabbits were mostly motionless, just having occasional spasms. He picked up both rabbits and led Jenny to the side of the building. “Set the pot on that table there,” he instructed Jenny and after she did, he handed her one of the rabbits. She held it far away from her body on stiff arms like it was going to turn and chew her face off.

Paul stopped where a number of bailing twines hung from a rafter with loops on the dangling ends. He showed her how to feed the twine back through the loop and hung his rabbit, the twine tightening over the back foot. Jenny copied his actions, glad to not be holding the dead rabbit, but not thrilled to have it hanging directly in front of her either.

Paul picked up the knife and made a cut mid-way down the torso on the rabbits back. After setting the knife back down, he pulled on the hide, removing it from the body like a sock, and then cut it free at the legs, taking the feet with the hide on all but the one the held the rabbit suspended. The hide was pulled as far down to the head as it would go before he took the knife and cut the hide free. “Now that we’re doing for ourselves, I’ve been saving the hides and trying to tan them. I never bothered before, but they’ll come in handy if this lasts for a long time.” After setting the hide aside, he cut through the meat to the bone at the base of the head. A pair of heavy snips was hanging on a nearby nail that he used to cut through the bone, removing the head cleanly. He handed the knife handle first to Jenny and told her, “Your turn.”

She took the knife tentatively and held the point to the rabbit and stopped while she gulped a large breath. Paul decided she had been serious about the barf bag. After a couple more deep breathes she pierced the skin and made a cut like the one Paul had done. “About like that?” she asked in a voice that was steadier than Paul would have expected.

“That looks good. Now you can start to pull the skin off.”

She handed the knife towards him point first, then realized what she was doing and set it on the table instead. Expecting to be grossed out by a slimy feel she hesitantly reached for the skin and started to pull it off the same way Paul had. Her arms were stiff, almost straight out from her body, as if she was fending off the offending creature. Eventually the rabbit looked like Paul’s, hanging without its skin. Paul mused that he would be cleaning up by now if he had done the job himself, but that was how it went when teaching someone new to a job.

“So the next thing is to open it up and remove all the organs and intestines.” He picked up the knife again made a small incision into the abdomen. “You have to be careful with this. If you cut deep, you can cut through an intestine and make a mess. So try to just get through the muscle.”

Jenny made the cut with clenched jaws. Don’t cut deep. Don’t cut too deep.

“That’s good Jenny,” Paul told her. “Now we’ll trade tools.” He picked up the cut hook and showed her. “See how it has a cutting edge here on the inside of the hook and it’s smooth on the outside? That lets it slide past the intestines and organs without damaging them while it cuts the animal open so we can get inside.” He put the hook in the incision and began to pull down, opening the abdominal cavity, and cutting right down through the ribs. After setting the cut hook back on the table, he picked up a metal bowl that was sitting upside down on a nearby shelf. He held the bowl under the rabbit with one hand and put the other hand into the abdomen and pulled out all of the organs, dropping them into the pan. He set the pan on the table. “Most of this is waste, but I do save the liver and heart.” He showed her both organs, removed them, and then showed her the green, pea-sized gallbladder attached to the liver and carefully removed it. He glanced over at her. We just might need that barf bag yet. The liver and heart were both dropped in the pan Jenny had brought from the house. He noted that Ruth or Toni, whichever had gotten it for her had instructed her to put some water in it.

Paul looked at Jenny, Okay, your turn.”

She picked up the cut hook and with some hesitation, began to copy his actions. When the organs dropped into the pan, the white look on her face made Paul certain she was going to drop it and run to the back of the shed, but after several deep breathes and some eye closing she continued.

“Very good,” he told her. “We’re almost done. Now we just have to make it fit the frying pan.” He cut the carcass into six individual pieces; the front legs, the loins and the back legs, dropping each piece into the pan of water as it came off. The final hind leg was separated from the foot and it was done. Jenny found that step less disgusting than removing the organs.

“So other than clean up, that’s about it,” Paul told her. “You did a really good job for your first time. It just gets easier from here. Now, if you’ll take the pan to the house, Ruth can help you out. After we’ve rinsed the meat, we soak it in salt water until we’re ready to cook it. We used to refrigerate it for a couple of days in the salt water, but that was when we had refrigeration. Now we just let it go as long as we can.”

Jenny took the pan and headed towards the house. Well, I did it, but I’m not sure if it wouldn’t be worth it to become a vegetarian.

Paul watched Jenny walk toward the house with the pan. Well, she got it done, I wasn’t sure she would. He went to the table and gathered the tools first. After cleaning them he ran a whetstone over each blade a few times and applied a light coating of mineral oil. A hole was dug and filled with the organs and the pan washed and returned to the machine shed with the clippers. He picked up the two hides and went towards his shop to begin working them. I’ve sure got a ways to go in making good tanned rabbit skin, but I’m gaining. He looked at the house, seeing shapes at the kitchen window. And those two have a REAL long way to go, but at least they’re on their way.

[bretf]

Chapter 14

Steve looked up from his reading when he heard someone enter the room. “Have you read this book?” he asked Ruth. “I’m thinking that despite everything that happened, we’ve been lucky, no, make that extremely lucky. Do you think they are eating dogs somewhere, like the family does in this?”

“Yes Steve, we are very fortunate here. One of the neighbors has a shortwave radio and can hear people talk from all over the country. The cities that haven’t burned are pretty much war zones. They are eating dogs, rats and anything else they can. We are even hearing about cannibalism.” Her body gave a slight shake and she closed her eyes before she continued. “The president declared martial law in those places, but doesn’t have the manpower to enforce anything. So yes Steve, we are extremely fortunate.

“I was devastated when Paul lost his job, but now I’m thankful it happened. I shudder to think what would have happened if we were still in the city.” She was quiet for a while thinking. We would be dead now. I just pray our friends got out of Chicago safely before it erupted.

“Well enough of that, it’s something I don’t even want to contemplate. We’ll just count our blessings for what we have. And enough of you laying around. It’s time you got out of that bed.” Even though you’ve been getting up when you thought I didn’t know.

He set the book aside and came out of the bed, much too easy, adding more confirmation to what Ruth knew.

“Does it pull at all?” she asked, looking at the fine red line on his side.

“Not at all. The only thing that feels off is my knee. It’s kind of stiff.”

“Maybe a soak in hot sudsy water with Epsom salts will help it, because that’s where you’re going. You might not have noticed, but, well Steve, you stink. We have the bathtub full for you with everything you need. There are even scissors and a fresh razor if you want to shave.”

Steve pulled his hand away from his beard at the comment; it was itching enough he wondered if he had lice. “What about clothes? All we ended up with was the clothes we were wearing.”

“Yours have been washed and Jake and Paul have each set some things out for you. It won’t be a huge variety but you won’t be naked on laundry day either.” She scrutinized him closely. “I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.” The corners of her mouth twisted up into a grin and she began laughing. “Now go get clean while I fumigate this room,” she told him, still chuckling.

He looked at her, not sure how to take her comment and the laughter. I don’t think that was so funny. He didn’t spend time to puzzle over it, but obeyed her orders, anticipating the hot water and chance to finally get clean. Jenny had rattled on and on about how good it felt to soak in a hot bubble bath and get clean for the first time in so long. And her hair! She had washed her hair and it didn’t feel greasy, gunky and itchy anymore. Then she had sniffed the air and wrinkled her nose at the strong odor from the bed.

Steve stripped off his underwear thinking they needed burned and eased himself into the water, luxuriating in the feeling as he was enveloped by the hot water. After he had fully submerged, he laid his head back, appreciating the tub full of water. The conversation with Jenny came back to him.

“A hot bath? Well where did the water come from? Do they hand pump it and heat it on the stove? That’s a lot of work for a bath.”

“No, I wondered about that too, but when Ruth was getting my bath ready, she just turned the faucet on and adjusted the temperature. I was shocked and asked how that worked because when we came here before we had to use water from a bucket, remember?”

Two days of hand pumping and carrying water had been enough for Paul. Although he hadn’t planned on the current circumstance, he had lucked out when he bought the farm. He had loved the location of the creek that bordered the farm and had the water rights to use it for irrigation. With some work he diverted some of the water to use for the livestock. Domestic water had to come from somewhere else. There was a small seep on the hillside above his orchard. He allowed the water to run into the orchard but had never done anything with it beyond having it tested. The state division of water quality had tested it and stated that it was safe to drink, but he hadn’t done anything to utilize it further, just taking the occasional drink when he was working in the area.

He and Jake had taken the better part of two weeks setting it up to supply the house; hand pumping in the meantime. They had buried a large poly tank below the seep and run black poly pipe in a three foot deep ditch to the pump house. The ditcher attached to the tractor had aided with the top half of the trench. The rest was done with shovels, leaving them both exhausted at the end of each day. The pipe was teed into the existing house supply line, with an extra valve put in place to flush the line when needed. The pipe was buried, the tractor doing the job with the scraper blade for which Paul and Jake were both grateful. They dug out the seep and put in a Rubbermaid container that was filled with fine clean sand to act as a primary filter. A cloth filter went between the sand and the outlet. Pipes adjoined the filter to the large tank. The tank began to fill, slow, but it was filling. They secured everything and added a new fence around the seep and tank to keep all but very small animals out.

The wood stove Paul had purchased was like the one his parents had, just missing the hot water jacket. He had some stainless steel pipe and fittings he had paid a steep price for, for a previous project, then hadn’t completed the project they were intended for. He dug them out and made a loop through the side of the stove’s firebox and plumbed it for the water to flow through and then into a spare hot water heater he had. A neighbor had replaced his water heater and was going to throw out the old one when Paul had stopped by. He had carried it home, planning on making it into a stock tank. He was glad he hadn’t gotten it done. He made sure the relief valve opened, cleaned the tank and he and Jake set it up near the cook stove. They got it hooked into the house’s hot water line with an input from the loop through the firebox. By the time they had the water heater set up, the tank at the seep had accumulated enough water to test the system. Everything worked just as Paul had envisioned.

It was cause for a mini-celebration that night. Ruth made a cake and Paul brought out a dusty bottle of wine. The tank didn’t provide as much water as the well, but with careful use it supplied their needs. They had to space the heavy water uses out to different days, but they had developed an efficient system over the winter.

Steve only knew part of the story; he couldn’t relate to the hard days of work and aching muscles his son and Paul had endured, but he luxuriated in the results of their hard work. He stayed in the tub until the water was cool, drained the tub and took another five minutes getting the grime cleaned out of it. Studying himself in the mirror, he decided he didn’t want to start shaving each day, but he was looking pretty ragged. He trimmed his beard and put on fresh clothes, feeling like a new man when he stepped out of the bathroom. Then he could relate to Jenny’s droning on about the bath.

The door was open to the bedroom he had been occupying and he looked in. The window was open with the spring breeze blowing through. The blankets, sheets, mattress cover, everything, had been removed from the bed. The mattress was standing upright against the bed. He didn’t see anyone as he walked towards the back porch.

When he stepped into the back porch, Ruth was standing over some kind of contraption; he had no idea what it was. It looked like a cut off barrel on wooden legs with a long handle running parallel to the barrel. Ruth was holding the handle, raising and lowering it. She saw him enter the room. “You definitely look better. Do you feel better?” she asked as she directed her attention back to her work.

“Yea, almost like a new man. But what are you doing? I’ve never seen anything like that before, although that part hooked to the sink looks like it came from a school’s mop bucket.” A wringer was attached to the utility sink that was at the end of the barrel contraption.

“Why this is the pinnacle of modern conveniences; it’s a washing machine. (http://www.ozarktubs.com/ ) I have one of the blankets from your bed in here and I’m just running the agitator now.” She finished raising and lowering the handle, moved the wringer from the sink to the edge of the barrel and reached into the soapy water. After she located a corner of the blanket, she began to feed it into the wringer while turning the hand crank. The blanket was fed into the deep laundry sink beside the washer. “Paul thought he was so funny when he bought it. He said since we were moving to the outback where there wasn’t electricity, I would have to use this to do laundry. It had sat in storage in his shed so long after that, we had forgotten we even had it until I tried doing some laundry here in the sink. So he and Jake got it out and assembled it. They took the electric appliances out to store. I just hope they don’t sit so long I forget about them too.”

She put another blanket in the washing machine, agitated it enough to get it thoroughly wet to begin soaking and returned her attention to the blanket in the sink. She moved the blanket around in the sink while she began talking to Steve again. “I wash in there and do the rinse in here. Then I run it through the wringer again and hang it to dry.” She continued to slosh the blanket around until she decided it was as good as she could get it. The wringer was moved and she fed the blanket into it, this time directing it into an empty laundry basket. “Now we take it to the solar clothes dryer.”

“Solar, I thought you just said you hang it to dry,” Steve asked, puzzled.

“Yes, I hang it in the sun, my solar clothes dryer; the ultimate in green power. It cracks me up that green power was the in thing, but so many subdivisions prohibited clothes lines. Figure out the logic in that.

“Anyway, in the winter, we used the wood powered clothes dryer: portable racks around the wood stoves.” She reached to pick up the basket but Steve beat her to it. “Now you tell me if something hurts. Let’s go out to the back yard.”

Steve carried the laundry basket to the back yard; Ruth watching his movements like a mother hen, making sure the work wasn’t causing him discomfort. Stiff wires were run between two steel “T” supports; the sheets from Steve’s bed were flapping in the breeze. Ruth made sure he was hanging the blanket properly and using enough clothes pins before she went back to start on the next blanket.

After the blanket was hung, Steve took some time to look around and bask in the feel of the sun hitting him. It’s so nice and peaceful here and … I don’t have the feeling someone’s going to jump out at any moment. He looked at the greenhouse and saw the shapes of people inside. Jenny had been telling him about starting seeds and transplanting the young plants. She was taking to that much better than butchering rabbits, though she had helped Paul with that chore a second time.

Supper that night was the best Steve could remember in a very long time. Home canned ham was accompanied by fresh asparagus, radishes, green salad and potato salad. He wasn’t sure if it was because the food was exceptional or the fact that he was able to sit at the table and be part of the conversation. He didn’t even begrudge Paul asking a blessing on the meal.

The buoyant feeling accompanied him through bedtime. Climbing in between clean sheets and snuggling next to Jenny brought him the most contentment and peace he had had for a long time, a time long before the power outage had hit.

The sun was shining bright as Paul led Steve and Jenny to his small orchard, each one carrying a pair of loppers and hand snips. Shadow, the Border Collie was running ahead of them, dashing one way and then the other. “You notice that the orchard yard connects to the chicken pens,” he told them as they walked. Paul opened the gate to the orchard yard and led them through, then re-secured it behind them. “The chickens do a lot of clean up in here. So I let them run in here as well as the garden plots.

“The apple trees are the most labor intensive so I usually start with them.” He had stopped near an apple tree. “You see all those sprouts that are shooting straight up? They all have to go. We need to cut them as tight against the branch as possible. Watch this,” and he demonstrated by cutting the sprout away cleanly. “After we get those out, we look for branches that look damaged or diseased. Then I look to make sure there aren’t any that cross or overlap. We want each branch we leave to have sun exposure and not be blocked by another too close above it. And look at how the branches come off the main branch. We want them out the sides, not the top or bottom. The more square they are to the source branch, the more sturdy it is. Not like this one,” he pointed to a branch and snipped it off. “I’m not sure how I missed that one last year, but I always manage to miss a few.”

He had brought ladders out earlier and leaned them against the corner brace of the fence. He got one, set it up, climbed and began trimming. His helpers began working. They were hesitant at first, asking nearly every time before making a cut.

When the obvious sprouts had all been removed, Steve looked at the tree, not sure what to do next. “I really don’t see what else needs cut here. Would it be all right if I start on the next tree?”

“That’d be great Steve. There’s not a lot left to do on this tree. Do you want to go along with him Jenny?”

She agreed and the two of them moved on to the next tree. When Paul joined them, Steve said, “I don’t see the same kind of growth on those other trees. What do you do for them?

“Not near as much. Like I said the apple trees take the most work. On those ones, I look for damage, then branches in another’s space. After that, just a general look at the tree; if it is too thick or sometimes I work a little on the shape, but nothing drastic.”

They worked on, enjoying the sunny spring day, chatting and asking occasionally about a certain branch.

They were interrupted from their work by an enthusiastic call from Nick. “Hey Grampa P, Grampa S, Gramma J; we’re having a picnic. And when we’re done, Gramma R said I might get to stay and pile branches for you.”

Ruth was coming through the gate with the garden cart. It was loaded with lawn chairs and a box, a couple of boards extending out the end. She set up the chairs and laid the boards across the cart body, turning it into a makeshift table. The lunch was spread across the table and a wash basin set up on the edge of the cart and filled with water from a jug. She set out some soap and a towel while Nick brought the workers over to eat.

After everyone had washed, Paul asked a blessing on the meal and on the day’s activities. They filled their plates and sat and began to eat. Steve was glad for the break. The long period of inactivity had sapped his strength. Even though the pruning wasn’t strenuous work, it was more than he was accustomed too. With a full stomach and the sun heating him, he was soon nodding off. His plate sat precariously on his lap until Ruth took it and packed it away in the box with the lunch containers.

While Paul and Jenny got back to work pruning, Ruth helped Nick put on a pair of gloves then she put on her own. They started to pick up the cut off branches and pile them in a corner away from the trees. “We’ll give the cuttings a while to dry out and then we’ll burn them,” Paul told Jenny where they were working. “The cut off branches tend to attract bugs and if there are enough of them, they attack the trees, so I try to keep them all cleaned up. Before they dry out though, I’ll take some of the tender ends to the rabbits to chew on.”

Steve soon awoke and got back to work. By the time evening shadows were growing long they had finished the last tree. “So are done here?” Steve asked.

“We still need to do a little raking. I try to keep the vegetation away from the trunks. If it grows up against the trees, it offers a place for mice and bugs to attack the tree. So after we do that clean up, we’re done here except for burning the branch pile.”

“But we still have other work to do, I take it,” Steve said, more of a question.

“Oh yeah, spring is a busy time. With everything coming to life, we’ve got to be a step ahead. I promise you won’t run out of things to do for a while.”

“Oh great,” Steve muttered half under his breath.

The sun had just risen over the horizon when Paul led his crew back to the orchard, this time armed with rakes and pitchforks. The jackets that had felt so nice in the early chill were soon shed as the vigorous activity warmed them up. When the last forkful was going onto the pile, Paul told them, “We might as well move on to the grapes now while we’re in pruning mode. But we’ll start that after a cup of coffee.”

The tools were put away and after their break the pruning tools were picked up and Paul led the way to the grape vines. “All of the grapes grow on last year’s new growth.” He pointed out the difference in appearance of the old growth and the new growth. Then he showed them the buds. “Each bud like this will put on a clump of grapes. You see how much new growth the plants put on last year, well that is too much for the plant to produce good grapes. I try to keep the vines fairly compact and leave enough new buds for around sixty clumps of grapes on each plant. The end plants, I’ll do a little differently.” He led them to the end to demonstrate.

“I have been letting the vines expand along this fence row. Now I could take cuttings and root them in wet sand for new plants, but I have to stay on top of that and make sure they stay moist, and then transplant them at the right time. As a rule I have too many things going on to keep track of, so my cuttings dry out and I don’t manage to get the plants going. Another way to get a new plant going is to take a tip like this one.” He freed a leading vine from the support wires and dropped it on the ground. He picked up the shovel he had leaned against the fence. “Now those buds, besides making clumps of grapes, will make roots in the right environment. I bury at least two good buds and run the vine back to the support fence. Those buds will send out roots and by fall we’ll have a new plant established here, extending the vines farther along the fence. The vine is nourished by the existing root system so I don’t have to make sure they are watered as closely.” He completed the action and made sure the vine was supported. “We’ll do the same with the vine on the other end. Now, all we have to do is start cutting.”

Jenny and Steve both watched Paul work for a while, getting the idea of what he was taking off. Soon they were both working their own clippers, although they would pause often and ask Paul’s advice. The grapes went much faster than the fruit trees and everything was pruned, piled and cleaned up before the day was over.

“What are we going to work on tomorrow, more pruning?” Steve asked as he stretched his tired muscles.

“No, we’re done with pruning for now. The easy stuff is done. Tomorrow, we really get to work.”

[bretf]

Chapter 15

While walking to the shop to put the tools away, Paul led his helpers on a detour to look at the cattle. Jake had already fed, but the Jersey heifer and another young cow weren’t eating. “You notice those two staying away, that’s not normal. Now look at their udders, they are both pretty full, ready to start producing milk.” The tools were laid down and the group walked behind the two cows. “Now you can see things are happening. The cows each had a string of mucus hanging. “I think we might be getting babies tonight. Let’s move them both into the barn. It’ll be a lot easier to monitor them in there than trying to find them out here with a flashlight. Jenny, could you go open the gate and then get around to the side. Steve, let’s just move them nice and slow.”

The cows were soon in the barn and Paul filled a bucket with water and tied it to the feeder and put out some hay that was ignored. “The Hereford has had a calf before, so chances are she’ll do fine, but still, nothing’s ever certain. This will be the Jersey’s first calf so I want to keep pretty close tabs on her. They both look fine for now, but we’ll need to check on them pretty regular.”

“So they just have the baby and that’s it?” Jenny asked, remembering her own time. The epidural was the greatest thing ever!

“We can hope that’s it, but you never know. The Jersey is pretty small framed and she was bred to a big bull. Hopefully things go smooth, but we need to be ready to help her if she needs it. There’s nothing else we can do now, so let’s get our tools taken care of and have some supper.”

*****

“Steve, Jenny Dear, can you get up,” Ruth said after tapping on the bedroom door and opening it a crack. A slight glow from the lantern came through the small opening.

Jenny raised herself and sat up at the side of the bed, still half asleep. Steve rolled over to see the window. “It’s still night. I want to sleep more.” He rolled back over and buried his face in his pillow.

Shaking him none-to- gently, Jenny told him, “No, you’re not sleeping more. Ruth must have a reason to be getting us up this early. Remember we discussed how we were going to do everything we could to help out. Now get up.”

“Yeah, we’ll help, but come on; it’s the middle of the night.”

“That’s how it’s going to be, huh. We only help when it’s convenient. All right. I’ll tell Ruth we can’t stay here any longer. We need to go back home.” Jenny’s eyes were misting over, ashamed that Steve could be like that so soon.

“Oh all right,” he snapped. “I’m getting up.” He started to get out of bed but didn’t look too happy to be doing it. Jenny dressed fast, hoping Steve wasn’t going to be sullen and resentful every time things didn’t go just how he wanted. And he has been so good the last two days.

Ruth and Toni were bustling about in the kitchen and Jake was just leaving by the back door. Jenny stood near the cook stove, absorbing the comforting heat. “Jenny Dear, Paul went out to the barn more than an hour ago. I’m afraid something is wrong out there. Could you and Steve go check please? Jake’s on his way out there too, but, well, Paul has been out there a long time.” The concern was evident in her voice. “We were going to get an early start today so I was getting the oven hot and starting biscuits. Now I’m wondering if I should start cooking or wait for a while.”

“Of course we’ll go out, won’t we Steve?” He had come to the edge of the light, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the lantern glow. When his eyes were adjusted he glanced at the clock on the wall. Man, he’s been up half the night.

They put their coats and hats on and went out into the darkness. Jenny lit their path with the flashlight that had somehow remained in her coat pocket.

The pair entered the barn and stood frozen in place, looking at the scene in front of them. Paul and Jake were on their knees at the tail end of the small brown cow. Her head came off the straw covered floor and she made a pained bellow, causing Jenny to jump, before plopping her head back down. “Steve, we need you here now,” Paul snapped.

Steve moved to Paul’s side while Jenny got in a position to see what they were doing. Two small feet were protruding, each with a small nylon rope tied around it. The ropes went to an axe handle Paul and Jake were holding. “She can’t deliver the calf on her own so we need to pull it. I’ve tried but I’m not strong enough.” For the first time Jenny noticed the sweat on his forehead.

“Get ahold of this handle Steve and the next contraction, we’ll pull for all we’re worth.” Steve took the proffered end as Paul repositioned himself at the center of the handle and braced his feet against the cow’s bottom leg. The new Hereford calf in the opposite corner went unnoticed by Steve and Jenny.

The cow raised her head and bellowed again as she was wracked by another contraction. “Pull!” Paul commanded, the corded muscles standing up on his arms from the strain. All three men pulled hard, the calf’s legs stretched tight, a nose showing, and then the head came free, Steve and Jake both falling back at the sudden release. The cow lay flat breathing hard as the rest of the calf came free. The calf was covered in bloody amniotic fluid, its head partially covered by the bag of waters. After getting his breath, Paul picked up a nearby burlap bag and began to vigorously rub it over the calf, drying it and stimulating it at the same time. He was relieved when the calf gave a slight, wet cough and started breathing.

Paul sat on a straw bale, bent over while he took a few moments to catch his breath. The others stood and sat in whatever position they had been in when the calf had been delivered, each with their own thoughts on what had just happened. Jake sat where he had fallen, amazed at the whole process and how much force it had taken to get the head clear. Jenny was having thoughts of Jake’s birth and the pain she had been in before the epidural started working. How could the cow stand that? Steve’s thoughts were nowhere close to the others: he was picturing a calf-like cork popping free from a champagne bottle, the amniotic fluid replaced by the bubbly liquid. Wow, that was intense!

After Paul had sat enough he looked at the others, still frozen looking at the calf. “That was hard on both of them. That heifer has been trying to get that head out for a couple of hours, and I wasn’t tough enough to get it done. It’s too bad she couldn’t have done like that girl there.” He indicated the Hereford cow and calf, each of the three noticing the new arrival for the first time. “Let’s try to get them both standing.” He got to his feet and walked with stiff steps to the calf. He bent over it and hoisted it to its feet. It stood on wobbly legs, unable to support itself. It would have fallen onto the straw bed but for Paul supporting it. “Steve, do you think you can take my place here so Jake and I can get the mother up?” The request sounded much more like an order than a request and Steve jumped to obey, much to Jenny’s surprise.

“Jake, over here,” he continued and bent over at the young cow’s side. “Dang big bulls,” he muttered as Jake joined him. He showed Jake where to push, and the two of them lift/pushed the cow until she was on her feet. She stood unsteady for a bit before she turned to the new calf and nuzzled it. Soon she was licking it, cleaning the fluid Paul hadn’t gotten off with the burlap sack. “Can the calf stand on its own Steve?” he asked. “If it can it would be better to let the momma alone with it.”

Steve raised his hands and the calf remained upright, although none too steady. “Barely,” he answered. The mother gave an extra vigorous lick, sprawling the calf between Steve’s spread legs.

He was reaching to stand it back up when Paul stopped him. “Let’s see how they do without us helping for a minute.”

They stood back to watch while the cow continued to lick the calf and bump it with her nose. Some of the bumps were quite forceful. The calf soon tried to get to its feet. “Wow, just like Bambi,” Steve thought as it stood swaying.

Jenny was staring at the scene in wide-eyed amazement. They had ripped that calf out like that and now the cow was standing, licking it! And the calf, after almost having its legs dislocated was standing, albeit unsteady. The cow stopped licking as a contraction ripped through her and she expelled the placenta.

“Hey, are you guys having trouble? Oh, what a beautiful calf!” Toni stated as she came into the lantern light. She admired the calf with a delighted look on her face. “Mom is wondering about breakfast, should she start it or hold off.”

“They are both looking pretty good now, but it was a tough birth. I want to make sure the calf gets some colostrum before I head in,” Paul answered.

“Colos, what? Steve asked.

“Colostrum. It’s the first milk that is produced after birth. It contains the antibodies that will protect the calf. They don’t get their immunities when in the womb, so it needs to transfer from this milk. It’s also easier on the digestion and high in protein. It’s the most important meal that little guy will ever have.” Paul looked back to Toni, “Why don’t you tell Mom we should be ready in about a half hour. Jake, Steve, Jenny; could you guys feed the rest of the animals and check all the water? I’ll make sure this one eats.”

“Could I stay?” Jenny asked. “This is just so…fascinating.”

“Sure,” Paul told her. “We’ll give these two a little longer to get acquainted and then the calf should try to eat. We’ll just be here to make sure it goes smooth.”

The two of them settled on the straw bale and Paul noticed the chill in the air. He wiped his arms as well as possible, rolled his shirt sleeves down, retrieved his coat from a nail and sat back down with Jenny after pulling the coat tight and zipping it up.

“Does this type of stuff happen often?” Jenny asked. “I mean, having to pull a calf.”

“Most of the time, the cow can get everything done on her own. But this does happen on occasion. And just like people, sometimes they even need a C-section. The most problems happen with first-time mothers, but not always. And most of the time, the parent animals are closer matched in size. But this little cow is on the small size and the wrong bull got to her. The man I traded her for had a Jersey bull ready to go, but a bigger Angus bull in the neighbor’s pasture went through the fence and took care of business.”

Jenny had a puzzled look when Paul mentioned Angus. “So, I remember the grocery stores were pushing Angus, you call that one over there Hereford and this one a Jersey. You told me before that this would be the milk cow, but I’m not sure I understand the difference.”

“Look at the differences in these two cows. See how the Herford has heavier muscle mass than the Jersey. They grow bigger and faster. The cow industry is pretty much specialized now. There are certain cows that produce a lot of milk that are used in dairies, those are mostly Holsteins; the black and white cows I’m sure you’re familiar with. The Jerseys produce a lot of milk, just not as much as the Holsteins but I prefer them because they produce so much more cream. And then there are cows that produce great steaks and burgers. That’s the Herefords and Angus. There’s not a lot of crossover nowadays. When I was a kid, my Dad had “milking Shorthorns”. They produced a good amount of milk as well as a good animal for butchering. They weren’t the best at either so they grew out of vogue in the modern world.” They sat quiet while Jenny looked closer at the two cows and considered what Paul had told her.

“There now, that’s what we’re waiting for,” he said in a satisfied tone. The calf was nuzzling at the cow’s front legs and slowly moving towards the udder. “If he doesn’t get it on his own in a little bit we’ll help him out.” They watched, Jenny with continued amazement as the calf found what it was looking for and started to suckle. “It looks like we can leave them on their own for now. This evening we’ll milk the cow. That’s always fun for the first few times.” He checked that the water bucket was still filled, took the lantern from the nail and the two of them started for the house.

The mouth-watering aromas of fresh biscuits and sausage welcomed Paul and Jenny to the house. After Paul had scrubbed his arms and hands he settled into his chair at the table after accepting a cup of coffee from Ruth.

Following the blessing, plates were filled with fresh biscuits, sausage gravy and fried eggs. Steve paused between bites and told Paul, “Well, when you said the real work started today, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but that was quite a job with that calf.”

Paul finished chewing and swallowed, then chuckled at Steve. “That was just a little bump in the road. The work starts after breakfast.”

His fork frozen partway to his mouth, Steve asked, “After breakfast? But it’s still dark outside.”

“Yes it is now, but after we’ve cleaned up here and walked down the road about a mile, it’ll be light then.”

“What’s down the road?” Steve asked, not at all liking the way the day seemed to be lining up.

“Our neighbor Scott; he came by a few days ago and asked if we could help him today. He has about forty sheep that need sheared and it’s a bigger job than his family can handle on their own.”

“Sheep shearing? What’ll be next, sitting up a spinning wheel and making socks?” Steve asked snidely.

Paul shot a level gaze at him. “That won’t come right away, but it will happen this summer and fall when we have a little spare time. If you remember right, you’re not going to run down to Wally World and get a new pack of socks. Or would you rather go barefoot next winter?”

“Steve looked away from the direct stare. “Sorry, I’m still having a tough time adapting.” He finished his breakfast in silence.

They walked down the road with the sun coming up and waking everything from its slumber. Meadowlarks were on fences singing to the new day. They would fly a short distance into the nearby fields when the group came near. Shadow ran from one side of the road to the other looking and smelling everywhere. A group of quail exploded from a wild rose bush she was snuffling. She gave chase for a short distance, barking at the fast flying birds.

The sheep were bunched together in a small pen next to the barn when the group arrived. Paul led the way into the barn where Scott, his wife Janet and teenage boys Mack and Ben were working. They had cleaned and swept the plank floor. A stationary bicycle was set up near a support post.

Paul greeted the family and made introductions to Steve and Jenny. Scott lined out what he had in mind. “One of the boys can move a ewe in the chute there from the pen. At that point we need to pick any cling-on stuff off the wool.” He saw the questioning look. “The dirtier the wool, the more we have to sharpen the clippers. Then we pull the ewe out and shear her. Paul, you’ve sheared before, do you want the power clippers or the hand ones?”

“Power clippers? How are you running them?”

Scott pointed to the bicycle. “That’s my power unit. See where the chain goes up to the pulley we mounted next to the motor? As long as someone pedals we can run the clippers. We tested it on a couple yesterday and although it’s not as handy as an electric motor, it is quite a bit faster than using the hand shears.”

“You’re a lot faster than me so you better use the power clippers.”

Scott nodded his head in agreement. “So, anyway, the rest of you can wrestle the sheep to each of us, help hold the fleece out of the way of the shears, stack the fleeces and get the ewes back into the pasture. Might need to take a turn peddling that bicycle too. All right boys, get us some sheep.”

A sheep was soon brought to each of the men. Paul upended the ewe onto its rump, its back leaning against his legs with the head close to his crotch. His left hand was under the jaw, circling the nose. With the skin as taut as possible, he started clipping the wool away from the belly, going from the breastbone to the udder. He took special care around the udder not to nick it.

He moved to a hind leg, supporting it with his left hand and shearing from the hoof as far as he could get with the sheep in its sitting upright position. He did the same with the other hind leg.

“How’s it going there?” Scott asked as he straightened and directed the crew to get him another sheep. And get the first one in the pasture.

“It’s going, but not near as fast as you. It’s a good thing I’ve been doing all my pruning the last few days. It helped my hand quite a bit, otherwise I’d be cramping by now.” He continued to work while talking with Scott, working the wool off the front legs in the same manner he did the rear. “Speaking of working on my grip, I get to do it some more when we get home. That Jersey heifer calved this morning so I’ll have to milk her once we get back.”

“Hey that’s great,” Scott told him while starting on the next ewe. “What’d you get, a heifer or bull calf?”

“Unfortunately it’s a bull,” Paul answered while holding the sheep’s head and going as far around the sides of the neck and the top of the head as far as he could.

“Yeah, that’s unfortunate; a heifer would have been nice. Oh, well, maybe next year. So did I ever tell you what I read about professional sheep shearers? Those guys can do a sheep in under two minutes. Hey, Mack, I’m getting pretty close to having this one done.”

Paul glanced up while he was repositioning the sheep on its side with its head up near his knees. He’s finished with his second and I’m still on my first.

“So that paper I read said the world record was something like eight hundred and thirty lambs in eight hours. Can you believe that? Oh and with those clippers you’re using, a guy did fifty sheep in eight hours with those. Man, I’d like to see those guys work.”

Paul found it hard to believe a man could shear that many, but if that’s all a guy did all day he had to get good. Getting his mind back to the sheep in his hands, he worked the wool as far down the side as he could with Toni helping hold it away, rolled the sheep to its other side and repeated the process. He raised the ewe up, made a few of more snips and Toni removed the fleece. Paul stood straight and stretched his back, thankful for the break, and the delay while the next ewe went to Scott. All too soon he had his own sheep and began to shear again.

Mack, Ben, Jake and Steve each took turns shearing, giving Paul and Scott breaks from the back-wrenching, bending action. Paul noted Mack and Ben were both faster than he was, but with their youthful energy they could also handle the sheep and peddle the bicycle better. Ah, but it’s the pits to get old.

By early afternoon, the last ewe was in the pasture, her lambs by her side. Janet had taken Jenny to the house some time earlier and the two of them had a large meal prepared and set out on the picnic table. The water in the wash basin was changed after each person cleaned away the accumulated grime on their hands. They ate with appetites enhanced by hard work.

“What do you do with the wool now?” Jenny asked. “I mean it doesn’t look like you are going to just start making sweaters out of it the way it is now.” She unconsciously rubbed her hands where the lanolin had coated them while she was working.

Janet chuckled. “No, the wool is a long way from being a sweater. The next thing we do is clean it. We’ll lay each individual fleece out flat and untangle any curls that are holding dirt or junk in. Then we shake it real well to get as much stuff off it as we can. We fill a barrel or wash tub with hot water and soak it to get as much dirt and whatnot off as we can. That’s the pre-wash soak. Then we put it in another tub of soapy hot water. We don’t agitate it because that will damage the wool fibers; just make sure everything is well soaked.

“It goes from there into another tub with clean water to rinse it. We try to keep it hot or the grease will reattach to the wool, and each tub of water needs to be about the same temperature so the wool isn’t shocked. We need to keep rinsing until we get clean water after a rinse. Sometimes, if the wool is quite dirty or heavy in lanolin, we might have to wash it again.”

“Wow, I had no idea,” Jenny said. “No wonder nice wool sweaters cost so much, all the hard work to get the wool and then cleaning it. I just always thought somebody made the prices high to get rich.”

“No, there’s a lot of work involved. And at that point it’s still just a fleece with a lot more to be done on it. Of course after it is clean, we have to dry it in a way that let’s air circulate around it, but it still stays clean. Then comes carding. That is a process where we have tools with steel fingers that separate and straighten the fibers. During that step, we still find pieces of stuff that gets picked out and flicked away. It is so hard to get the wool perfectly clean. The fibers are then twisted back into one another to form strings of wool. The shorter strings are twisted into one another to make long continuous ropes of wool called rovings.

“Then out comes the spinning wheel to make yarn. The spinning process is best seen, but I take the rovings and spin it into yarn. And then it is finally time to get out the knitting needles and start turning it into something useful. It is quite a process. I’m just glad I was able to learn to do it as a hobby because it has become a very valuable skill again.” Janet was silent in contemplation. For Jenny, it was as good as an exclamation point on her narrative.

“The cleaning, I do outside. I’ll probably do it pretty soon so I can keep the water warm with fires and keep the smell, did I mention wet, hot wool tends to stink, anyway, keep the smell out of the house. The rest of the process and of course knitting are best done on long winter evenings beside the wood stove.”

Once the remnants of the meal were cleaned up and the dishes were done, Paul started his group toward home. Shadow had to be called away from the pasture where she had been keeping close tabs on the sheep.

At home, Paul put some warm water in his steel bucket and told the group he was going to the barn. Without telling anyone directly, he told them all that the young plants in the greenhouse would need watered, the cows and rabbits fed and watered, the chicken’s feed and water checked and the eggs gathered. The wood box could wait a day to be filled since they hadn’t kept the fire going through the day. All he wanted was to sit and rest, not go milk a young cow for the first time ever. He wasn’t sure he was up to the fight.

Jenny thought about the new calf and mother, how amazing she thought the whole thing was and asked if she could go along and help him. He saw the anticipation on her face and thought he just might need some help. “Sure, you can help. And when you guys feed the cows, see if any others are close to calving.” They had all been bred in a close time frame so the calves should all come soon.

The two calves were both on their feet looking strong when Paul and Jenny went into the barn. Jenny looked at them then asked Paul, “So if I understand right, the red and white cow, I mean the Hereford, doesn’t need milked because she won’t give extra milk. But the brown Jersey cow will give more than her calf will eat?”

“That’s pretty much it,” Paul told her. “Now we’ll put grain in the feed box in the stanchion – that head lock contraption there and secure the cow. And then, look out for flying feet.”

“What do you mean?”

“Cows that are new to being milked don’t like it at all. They stomp and kick and make for a not very fun time. Just watch.” Paul brought a pan of grain in and after getting the cow to eat some from the pan, he coaxed her to the stanchion and poured the grain in. She jerked back the moment her head was secured. He talked soothingly to her and soon she went back to eating. “Get me that bucket and rag there, would you please Jenny,” he said as he pointed to a plastic bucket hanging from a nail. He poured his wash water in the bucket, dipped the rag in, wrung it out and went to the cow’s side.

He patted her, then bent to her udder with the rag, keeping one hand on her flank. The moment his rag enveloped hand touched the udder, she kicked at it. He deflected it as best he could, lowering his left hand, and continued to try to clean her. The cow, kicked, crow hopped, and kicked some more. “There is a little contraption made, well it used to be made that was a sort of shackle system that chained the legs together to stop them from kicking. They work all right, but even with them, I had cows kick me when I was a kid. I prefer to have them just get used to me and accept this.” He continued to clean and the cow did slow down on kicking – a little.

He picked up his milk bucket and holding it with one hand began to milk. He was yanking the bucket away with each squirt to avoid the slashing feet. Once, he was too slow; the cow’s foot landed in the bucket, the side pinned to the straw covered floor and all the milk he had accumulated ran out. He got her foot moved shook his head and rinsed the bucket and started again. Eventually the cow accepted his actions and he tried using two hands, just to yank the bucket away again in the nick of time. He had Jenny get him his milk stool, two pieces of two by four nailed together in a tee and settled on it to try again.

“That’s a milk stool?” Jenny asked. “It doesn’t look anything like the stools I’ve seen in those specialty shops.

“No, it’s sure not like them. They are too stable. You’ve seen how this cow acts. Can you imagine setting on one of those and getting away from her kicking hoof?” Right on cue, the foot flashed out at Paul and he rolled away, avoiding contact. “If I was on a three legged stool, she would have nailed me a good one there.” He started laughing. “True story for you; my granddad was milking his cow one morning and the dog came in and spooked the cow. He wasn’t expecting her to kick and she connected perfectly. It broke his leg. I’ve always remembered that and try to watch for any movement from any cow.”

Finally Paul had the cow milked out and he stood. He released the cow from the stanchion; she rushed to her calf and started smelling it as if something had happened to it on the other side of the room. The milk was deep yellow with floating pieces of dirt and straw and whatever else had been clinging to the cow’s foot. “See the deep color? It’ll lighten up when she’s done producing colostrum and look more like regular milk. Now, I put a dish out here a few days ago. Let’s fill it for the cat, give a little to Shadow and put the rest in a pan for the chickens.”

“You mean after all that you’re not even going to keep the milk?”

“Well for one thing, look at all that stuff floating in there. Her foot isn’t what I’d call sanitary.” He watched Jenny for a reaction and saw she got his point. “Besides that, I don’t care for the first milk. I’ve tried it but it just tastes different. But it’s loaded with protein so it makes a great supplement for the chickens. He poured the bowl for the cat and called her. She soon came from the hay stack where she had been watching for mice and started lapping at the milk. Jenny gave the cat a few strokes on her soft back before Paul started for the door.

Jenny followed noticing for the first time just how tired Paul was. She reached down and took the bucket form him and went to the chicken pen. “Save a little for Shadow,” Paul reminded her. She nodded her head in affirmation and continued.

That evening after supper, they sat around in the relaxed state caused by a day of hard work. Paul was nodding off in his chair. Jenny was thinking about all of the new things she had seen that day and how fascinating it had all been. A far buried memory surfaced of her own grandfather, milking his cow and squirting the face of his cat. The cat opened his mouth and caught as much of the milk as he could in his mouth, but still got a lot on his face. A very young Jenny had laughed in delight at that. It had been so fun at her grandparents. A dreamy look enveloped her face while she thought about that time so long ago and all the enjoyment she had there and had forgotten until the day’s events had triggered it. I wish Mom would have let me go to their house more. If I knew half of what Grandma did, Steve and I wouldn’t have been in such a horrible spot.