by Akart, Bobby
“That’s a good question,” Kristi responded. “We’ve just said our food supplies are limited, and shelter is a challenge. Are we gonna take people in? Or just give them a meal, pat them on the head, and tell them to go away?”
“This is our point,” said Levi. “We’re all good people here and naturally want to help our fellow man and all of that. But let’s get real. Every meal we give away to a stranger is a meal being taken away from one of us. I’ll be dogged if I’m gonna watch my kids starve while some fool who didn’t prepare for something like this stuffs his face with our oatmeal and apples.”
“What if they have something to offer?” asked Chapman, continuing to play devil’s advocate. “Let’s say somebody, or another group, comes along, and they have something we don’t have.”
“Like what?” asked Carly.
“What are some of the things you wish we had?” asked Chapman.
“Fertile land with a creek running through it,” she said sarcastically.
Chapman shot back, ostensibly speaking on behalf of the group, “Okay, we get it. Besides that.”
“Well, we need more food, obviously. There are things that would make our lives more comfortable, I suppose. But really, food is the biggest thing.”
Chapman smiled slightly as he was able to think of half a dozen reasons a larger group could make sense while Carly could only focus on one. Still, he wanted to be reasonable and conciliatory with her. They all needed to be rowing in the same direction.
“I’ve thought about this,” he began. “A lot, actually. At the end of the day, you can only count on and trust your family. I personally don’t think we need anyone else to upset what we have right here. So they’ll have to bring a lot of things to the table for us to take them in.”
“What do we do when they show up?” asked Kristi. “We can’t just shoot them.”
“Yes, we can,” said Carly half-jokingly.
“She’s kiddin’,” Levi quickly added, although not so sure. “Listen, let’s be brutally honest here. I murdered a man the other day in that tunnel. And you know what? I did it without giving it a second thought. I saw a guy waving a gun around and two shadows huddled against a wall, and I killed him. Boom. Done.”
“Are you saying we should shoot people who come near us?” asked Tommy.
“No, not necessarily, but think of it this way,” Levi replied. “Some guy or a family walks all the way up here with nothin’ but the shirts on their backs. His kids are cryin’ and his wife is all mopey and stuff. Are we gonna turn them away? I think we should ’cause they’re gonna beg to stay or ask for more to eat.
“Anyway, let’s say we turn them away and they walk down the mountain a bit. The mom keeps cryin’. The kids complain and squall even more. Their daddy starts to freak out and get desperate. Whadya think he’s gonna do? He’s gonna try to sneak back in and steal some food. Maybe he’s got a gun of his own and grabs one of my kids and threatens to kill ’em if we don’t feed his family? There’s no way I’m gonna let that happen.”
Chapman shook his head in disbelief. “Come on, Levi. Don’t you think that’s a little far-fetched?”
Before Levi answered, Kristi spoke up. “Actually, Chapman, not really. Tommy and I experienced something similar in his condo building. They wanted to take everything we had to ration it for others. They had guns, and we had to fight our way out of there. Desperate people do desperate things.”
Chapman stood and began to wander around the parking lot. He removed his cap and ran his fingers through his hair. The heat of the sun immediately began to warm his skin.
“We can’t shoot everyone who walks up here just because we think they’re gonna steal from us. Defending our lives is one thing. But killing for the sake of avoiding an awkward situation is another.”
“What if we give them a chance?” asked Tommy. “By that, I mean take them into custody, sort of. Disarm them and hear their story. Let’s see what they have to offer and question their intentions.”
Sarah nodded her agreement. “That sounds reasonable. What are you thinking?”
Tommy explained, “Well, we’ve talked a lot about the fact we’re not that much different than the pioneers from the old days. In a sense, that’s true. However, people are different. We lived in a polarized, dog-eat-dog world before this whole thing came about. I personally believe people are a lot meaner and therefore more dangerous than the old days. Therefore, we have to be really careful and assess each situation before we start shooting.”
Levi quizzed Tommy. “Okay, let’s take my scenario. Man with wife and kids strolls up the road empty-handed. Whadya do?”
“All right, let’s see. First, state your business. Turn over your weapons. Then we ask questions—who, where, what, why, etcetera.”
“What if they’re worthless to us?” asked Carly.
“Then we send them packin’ without their weapons. Nobody leaves here with weapons that they might use against us later.”
Chapman agreed. “The guy will be pissed that we took his guns, but at least we know we’ll be safe.”
Levi shrugged and nodded. “Okay, let’s suppose he’s unarmed, but he had a horse with some supplies. Maybe seeds, some food, and he’s a farmer. You know, just ’cause you have seeds doesn’t mean you can grow food.”
Sarah began to laugh. “Hey, that’s my DNA you’re talking about. If a Chapman can’t plant and grow food, he gets kicked out of the clan.”
The lighthearted moment helped ease the tension.
Tommy responded to Levi’s point. “We’ll have to take it on a case-by-case basis. Are they like-minded thinkers? I mean, we have to pull together to make this work. What skills do they have?”
Sarah offered another consideration. “Are they Christians?”
“Right,” said Tommy. “Listen, we’ve all heard of love at first sight.”
“Like you and my sister?” asked Chapman with a laugh.
Tommy couldn’t resist. “She hated me at first.”
“Still do,” said Kristi, accompanied by a playful punch to his arm.
Tommy made his point. “However, given time, a person’s true colors shine through. Being part of a family or a newly formed group is not much different. There will be differences, arguments, heated debates, betrayals, and various other emotional conflicts. That’s what family life is all about, sometimes. All of these disagreements will need to be addressed, particularly since any new members of the group are supposed to be like a second family to us.”
Carly made a good point. “Suppose after this honeymoon period, you know, where these new people have been on their best behavior and we start to see who they really are. What happens then? Do we kick ’em out, and if so, what happens when someone stops being a group member?”
“She’s right,” said Levi. “Some people are very good at hiding who they really are and, even after getting to know them, we may find out they’re a threat. If we kick ’em out, they may come back knowing everything about our setup.”
Chapman agreed. “Either way, whether we try to make it work or expel them, they’ll become a security risk.”
“Expanding our numbers may be an inherent risk we have to take,” said Tommy. “Here’s the thing. We’re in a long-term crisis scenario, one that may very well be permanent. It’s gonna require large amounts of labor for survival. I think it’s worth looking at any prospective member on a case-by-case basis, weighing their strengths and weaknesses, keeping in mind everyone has something to contribute, and find some who may be a good fit. It’s gonna be a tedious process, but the gains accomplished by having a larger, cohesive group of people we can depend on are immeasurable.”
Sarah closed the discussion with an ominous statement. “Our survival may depend on it.”
Chapter 13
Six weeks prior, the day the geostorm came
Pinnacle Overlook
Cumberland Gap
Southeast Kentucky
Doug Smith wasn’t sure he co
uld do it. He slowly made the turn into the parking area of the Pinnacle Overlook, wheeling the Chevy pickup under tree branches that gently scraped the top of his Arctic Fox camper. He and his wife, Betty, had put tens of thousands of miles on the truck since they’d sold their drugstore in Rutledge, Tennessee.
For nearly a century, they’d been the lone pharmacy in the small East Tennessee town, but, like so many other rural communities, they’d received competition in the form of a bright, shiny new CVS pharmacy.
Half grocery, half variety store, the big-box retail druggists like Walgreens and CVS entered rural communities across the country, eventually putting mom-and-pop pharmacies like Smith Drugs out of business. CVS had offered to buy Smith out for a nominal sum of money that was insufficient to retire yet enough to avoid the appearance of being predatory. Smith refused the offer, and the couple decided to tough it out, relying upon the loyalty of their longtime customers in the community to support them.
For a while, the most loyal remained true to their promise of support. Gradually, however, as price comparisons were made and insurance claims were difficult to get paid, the customer base dwindled. In the end, the Smiths sold their drugstore for the value of its building, a historic structure that had stood proudly across the street from the Grainger County Courthouse. It was destined to be turned into an antique store.
Living off a modest retirement and their social security, the Smiths began to take vacations together with their beloved cat, Cherokee, named after the Indian tribe prevalent in that part of East Tennessee when it was settled by pioneers from North Carolina. They’d load up their pickup-camper combination and drive in all directions, visiting points of interest all across the country.
Their first trip, however, had been to the Pinnacle Overlook resting high above Cumberland Gap. The Smith family had been around upper East Tennessee for generations. They’d settled in small communities with names like Harrogate, Tazewell, and Washburn. They were a proud family, and like their neighbors, they enjoyed country living.
During that first outing, they’d brought along a Rand McNally Road Atlas, an oversized map book full of mileage charts, detailed city data, and tourism information. They’d sat around a campfire with their Coleman lantern and dreamt of places to visit in each of the lower forty-eight states.
Over the years of their retirement, they’d managed to hit many points of interest. State parks. National monuments. Museums and unique geological features. But then Betty fell ill.
At first, they’d noticed how she’d become fatigued, even weak at times. She found herself frequently dizzy, and her vision changed for the worse. Betty went to her optometrist, who quickly changed her eyeglass prescription and sold her a new pair. She advised Betty to rest her eyes more often and come back in six months.
The vision problems persisted, as well as the dizziness to the point she stumbled and fell while hiking on one of their adventures. The nasty sprain sidelined the couple for a while, during which time Betty began to feel sensations of tingling and numbness. Finally, after eight weeks of these reoccurring symptoms, Doug took her to Knoxville’s Baptist Hospital for help.
Betty was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, a chronic illness involving the central nervous system. Ordinarily, it was not seen as fatal. Betty and Doug held out hope that they could fight her MS. With therapy and medication, they managed her symptoms. Having MS was not necessarily a death sentence but, rather, a life shortener in most cases.
They continued to travel, although less frequently and for shorter stints. The two of them were judicious about taking medications and seeing her doctors. They did everything they were supposed to do until Betty contracted strep throat.
It was the height of flu season, and it had become painful to swallow. The Smiths had both received their flu shot at the CVS pharmacy, so they were comfortable she’d not contracted the virus. However, the Streptococcus bacteria had invaded her lungs and caused inflammation. The bacterial infection turned to pneumonia, and soon, Betty’s MS-weakened body began to give out.
It all happened so suddenly. A strong, healthy woman went from traveling the country with her husband and beloved cat to being diagnosed with MS and ultimately acquiring pneumonia. It was simply too much, and on the evening of the couple’s forty-ninth anniversary, Betty passed away in her sleep.
During that day, mustering all the strength her body and mind had, she shared her final wish with her husband. It was simple, yet complicated in some respects. “Finish our journeys. See all of the places we longed to visit. Come full circle to where we began.”
For weeks after Betty was laid to rest, Doug sat alone in his two-story home that had stood proudly behind the courthouse in Rutledge since the eighteen hundreds. He grieved in silence most days, only occasionally turning on the television to watch shows the couple had enjoyed.
Betty’s final wish weighed heavily on him. How can I deny her? This is what she wanted for me. However, it wouldn’t be the same without her.
Doug would sit up late into the night, eventually falling asleep with Cherokee in his lap. The next day, he’d repeat his activities of the day before. Until one morning, he glanced up at the wall and studied two cross-stitched signs that had been there for decades. You know, the type of tchotchke that adorned a home, seen so often it eventually was no longer seen.
One of them was a mainstay in many rural homes. It read God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference. The other cross-stitched sign was unique, and it also provided him a wake-up call.
It read Don’t die before you’re dead.
Simple words with a profound meaning. That was what Doug was doing. He was dying within. This was not what his dearly departed wife wanted for him. She wanted him to live. She wanted him to continue their journey. She wanted to, somehow, see their retirement plan through his eyes.
So Doug hitched up his big-boy pants, loaded the Arctic Fox camper with family photos, the journal they’d kept during their travels, and mementos of his life with Betty. He gathered up Cherokee and set out with the tattered and torn Rand McNally Atlas sitting on the passenger seat, where his navigator, Betty, once told him which road to take next.
These were the events in Doug Smith’s life that led him to the Pinnacle Overlook that day, and the end of his journey.
Chapter 14
Six weeks prior, the day the geostorm came
Pinnacle Overlook
Cumberland Gap
Southeast Kentucky
“Okay, big guy,” began Doug as he hoisted the heavyset tabby cat off his lap and onto the floor. As he poured a generous portion of Meow Mix into a bowl next to Cherokee’s water dish, Doug explained the game plan for the day.
“I’m not gonna be long, I promise. Your momma and I had a special spot on the trail that I wanna visit. That’s where we’d hang out in the morning and watch the sun rise over Virginia and light up the Cumberland Gap. I’d bring a thermos full of coffee and she’d have Ziplocs full of bear claws to munch on.”
Cherokee gripped her claws into the indoor/outdoor carpet that covered the camper’s floor and engaged in a nice long stretch.
Doug chuckled as he continued. “Yeah, I know. You’re just gonna sleep while I’m gone. Well, anyway, I’ve fired up the generator and turned on the AC for ya. You sleep, and when I come back, I’m gonna bust open a can of Chicken of the Sea tuna for us. I made some boiled eggs at home, and we’ll have tuna salad. Sound good?”
The tabby blinked and made her way to the Meow Mix without providing Doug much of a response. Cherokee was nearing sixteen years old, so nothing excited her much anymore.
After double-checking the generator and confirming all the doors were locked, Doug grabbed his hand-carved hickory stick and set out for a walk on the Pinnacle Overlook Trail. The eight-mile-long trail led from the parking lot along the top of the ridge for a mile and a half before making a downward turn toward the we
st. At the top of the ridge, the path was fairly level, running consistently at an elevation of twenty-two hundred feet. At the apex of the ridge, the trail took an abrupt left-hand turn with a gradual six-hundred-foot drop in elevation toward the road leading to the Pinnacle Overlook.
Doug patted the pocket of his Columbia Sportswear shirt where he’d tucked the small cross-stitched sign that had inspired his trip that day. The one that admonished him not to die before he was dead. It gave him strength to finish the dream he shared with his wife. He also brought a photograph the two of them had snapped in their secret spot, which was stowed away in his left pocket over his heart. Finally, in a small backpack they used for short hikes, he brought a thermos of coffee and a package of bear claws he’d made at home. He hadn’t quite perfected Betty’s recipe, but he came close.
As he started up the trail, Doug laughed off the lunacy of his adventure. In the days prior to his trip, the government had ordered the systematic shutdown of the power grid. He’d rushed out to the Mobil station and filled up the gas tanks on both of his trucks as well as all the gas cans he had in the garage.
The drive from Rutledge to the Pinnacle Overlook was only fifty miles, although it was over the river and through the woods, as he liked to refer to winding country roads. He had more than enough fuel in his tank and the gas cans to make the trip as well as run the generator for a couple of days.
Traffic was sparse due to the gas shortages. Most people stayed home, as he probably should have. But the message sent to him via the cross-stitched sign was too powerful. This was something he wanted to do. No, he needed to do it.
Emboldened by his self-affirmation, Doug picked up the pace, using the hickory stick as an aid to maintain support for his weak left knee, the one that needed replacing but would have to wait until after the power came back on.
