by N. C. Reed
“Those are heirloom seeds,” Shane reminded him. “In case we don't get back here, remember you have to dry out some of the seeds from your crop and store them for next year. If you don't, then you won't have seeds to plant. I honestly don't know if we can replace them if you lose them, so please be careful.
“You need to elect a marshal from among yourselves and deem him or her as your peace officer. That won't be a full time occupation, mind, but we all work two and three jobs ourselves, so we know it works. Still, you’ll need some kind of legal system in place to deal with trouble. We will help you with that as much as we can. A local lawman survived an ambush and is almost recovered. We’ll try and get him up this way to talk to you, and he may well start making a circuit up this way. We’ll help him when and as we can. Meanwhile, y' all need to be prepared to handle things like that yourselves.”
“When will you be back?”
“When will you bring more food?”
“When are you going to get the power back on?”
The bombardment of questions started again until Shane held up a hand.
“We’ll be back when we can,” he promised. “I don't know yet how often that is since we don't know how large an area we’ll end up being responsible for. We should know before long, but before long ain't a date, exactly. We’ll do the best we can.
“We will try and bring the same amount of food next time, but we can't promise it. Others are having to eat from it as well. That makes your planting and gardening more important. Meantime you need to start gathering the empty jars, with all the lids and rings you can find. What you can't can you’ll have to dry out in order to preserve it through the winter.
“The power is gone,” he answered finally. “The sun sprayed us with a massive matter ejection that essentially fried most electronics across the planet. Worse, it also fried the power grid, the power producing dams and nuclear plants, and the factories that could replace the equipment that was lost. It will almost certainly be years before we see power restored to areas like ours, if we ever do in our lifetime.
“Stop thinking in terms of getting back to normal and accept that this is normal, now. I know that sucks, it sucks for me, too. I miss my comfort as much as any man does. But this is where we are now.” He turned to Pickett.
“We’ll try for three days on the tractor. He’ll have an escort, may or may not be us, I don't know. It would be for the best if no one tried to interfere. Understand?”
“Meaning if anyone makes a grab for the tractor they get shot?” Pickett raised an eyebrow. “Reckon everyone will be able to understand that. Just don't hold me responsible for some idiot that can't figure that out. Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Shane promised. “Good luck, Mister Mayor,” Shane clapped Pickett's shoulder.
“Oh, thanks.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“I can't do this, man.”
Clay frowned as Shane made his declaration. He had been distant since he'd returned, and had been more taciturn than usual other than reporting his success at the church in Jordan. Gordon had recognized 'Mayor' Pickett's name and had nodded his approval of him as a community leader. Shane had agreed he thought Pickett to be okay, and had outlined what steps had been made so far. Yet his mood had fallen as he finished his report and it hadn't improved. He had spent the rest of the day supervising the turn-around of the vehicles they had used to make their recon and then disappeared for a while. Now he was facing Clay over the small table that had become a desk.
“Do what?” Clay asked.
“I can't keep looking at women and kids that are starving and just . . . leave 'em to it, Boss,” Shane was shaking his head. “I didn't like it overseas and I really don't like it here. I can't keep on doing it.”
“What's your solution, then?” Clay leaned back, looking at Shane carefully. “Just quit?”
“No, but I can't keep just passing them by, or handing them a few cans and some candy before I move on,” Shane said heavily. “I met a woman today with two kids that ain't seen or spoken to a soul aside from her children since the lights went out. She cried just to be talking to someone new, man. I can take a lot of things, Clay. I have taken a lot over the years. That? No, man,” he was shaking his head. “I can't deal.”
“Shane, we're just getting started, and you helped us get started at that,” Clay fought to keep his exasperation from his voice. “We can't change things overnight, and you know that. We start now, working as much and as fast as we can and expanding it as far as possible, depending on our own capabilities. We can't do it all, and right now no one else appears to be doing a damn thing. Now if you want to abandon that woman and her kids, I can't stop you. Did you promise her you'd be back?”
“I'm not abandoning her!” Shane insisted. “It's just . . . it's too hard, man,” he was shaking his head again. “Driving away and leaving them like that after I know what they've been through.”
“Is it just that one woman or is it everyone?” Clay asked carefully.
“She was the only person we saw outside the bunch in Jordan,” Shane admitted. “We made a pretty wide loop coming back but we didn't see another soul. I'd like to believe there were people out there and they just didn't want to show themselves, but I can't swear to it.”
“So it's just the one woman and her two kids then?” Clay pressed.
“So far,” Shane nodded.
“And if we were to bring her here, would that alleviate your inability to keep going?” Clay asked.
“It's not about her, personally,” Shane shook his head yet again. “There were a bunch of ragged kids at the church, too.”
“Shane, those kids will still be doing without even if you don't have to look at them,” Clay reminded his friend. “Your choosing not to go see them won't help them any at all. Or you either, for that matter.”
“I'm aware of that,” Shane exhaled heavily. “But . . . it's not that I can't stand to see them so much as I can't stand not to be able to help them!”
“I get that,” Clay nodded slowly. “And for what it's worth I feel the same way,” he admitted. “But I remind myself that none of this is my fault. I admit I could have handled things around here better prior to the Storm, but I wasn't thinking about anyone else but my family at the time. I was doing a lot of work on my own for a long time so I had to do what I could and let that be it. Even after I had help I still didn't think much further than this farm, to be honest. If I'd thought a little further ahead, then Jordan and the area around us might be better off now, I don't know. As it is, we have the means to help them be self-sufficient in the future and those who are left are the ones willing to work. With our help, their future isn't as dark as it was a month ago.”
Shane didn't say anything as he mulled that over.
“I get where you're coming from,” Clay continued, sensing he was winning Shane over. “I do. But if you think you can't hack it now, then wait until this fall when no one has food left and winter starts. People who made it that far won't make it through another winter without help, and we can't help them unless we help them help themselves. We can't feed them all. We gotta help them feed themselves.”
“Teach a man to fish?” Shane snorted, and Clay nodded.
“That's it exactly. Now you can pull yourself into a hole here and sit that out, or you can help make sure that they can get through another winter. That's your call and I can't make if for you. Bear in mind that we don't have that many experienced hands around here, not with this kind of work anyway. But you gotta do you, man,” Clay shrugged.
“Think about it and let me know. We’ll try and send the tractor day after tomorrow. That will require a pretty strong guard to protect the tractor and the fuel. If we can we’ll go ahead and send two, one with a harrow and one disc. That would pretty well leave them ready to plant. They have the manpower to plant by hand rather than need the planter from the tractor, so we’ll let them do that. They should be able to gather sufficient hand tools from the area around to
wn to work the farrows with. It will keep them busy, too. Idle hands and all that.
“If you don't think you can do it, I need to know so I can put someone else in there.”
***
“Good work today.”
Zach looked up from where he was cleaning and servicing his M-2 and M-4 to see Xavier Adair looking down at him.
“Thanks,” Zach nodded. “Just doing my job.”
“Were you thinking of joining up before all this happened?” Xavier sat down beside him.
“Considered it as a way to pay for school,” Zach nodded, continuing to set the head space on the big Browning. “Was hoping to get a football scholarship, but the service was my backup plan.”
“I see,” Xavier nodded. “Is that your mark?” he asked, indicating the set space on the Browning.
“Yeah,” Zach nodded. “It's what I use to remind me how much it's moved. Let’s me know if I'm not tightening things down right.”
“Good move,” Xavier approved. “Someone teach you that?”
“No,” Zach shook his head. “Seemed like a good idea to know, so I started it. Just for my own information, you know.”
“Might interest you to know that more experienced gunners teach that trick, too,” Xavier told him. “That you did it on your own shows good awareness.”
“Cool,” Zach nodded once, finishing his adjustments. Satisfied that the Browning was now mission ready, he turned to his rifle.
“Stacey was saying you managed to fire just one round from the Ma Two earlier,” Xavier noted. “How did you manage that, if I may ask?”
“Left an empty link behind the first round,” Zach replied easily.
“Another old trick,” Xavier nodded. “Did you decide on that on your own as well?”
“Yeah,” Zach nodded as he tore down the M-4. “It gives me a one time ability to squeeze off a single round from the fifty in case I need it. It only takes a second to clear the empty link if I need more so it's a minimal risk, but in some cases having that one round could be a big deal if I use it right.”
“Well done,” Xavier approved. “You would have done well in the Army, Zach,” Xavier clasped the younger man's shoulder before getting to his feet.
“We’ll be heading back to Jordan in two days,” Xavier told him. “Would you like to be included in the mission?”
“If that's what they need me for, sure,” Zach nodded absently.
“I felt sure you would go if asked or ordered to,” Xavier assured him. “What I wish to know is if you desire to go. If you want to be part of the mission as opposed to being willing to go if asked?”
“Sure,” Zach looked up at the older man. “Always fun to get out and move around. I'm always up for a road trip.”
“Then I will ask that you be included in the line-up,” Xavier promised. “Good evening, Zachary.” With that Xavier departed, leaving Zach looking after him with a frown.
“Wonder what that was about,” he muttered to himself before returning to his rifle.
***
“Clay you got a minute or two?”
Clay looked up to see his brother Robert standing before the small table he used as a desk and their brother-in-law Ronny standing behind him.
“Sure,” Clay replied, even though he didn't really have the time. He would have to make it. “Have a seat,” he told them. “What's up?” he asked as the two settled into folding chairs.
“I know Mom came to see you earlier,” Robert said without preamble. “I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess she wanted to talk about that lesbian couple. Yeah?”
“Got it in one,” Clay nodded.
“And I know that Patricia told you about Malitha damn near pushing the Old Man into arrest,” Robert continued.
“She did,” Clay nodded once more, wondering where this was going.
“Clay, Leon has made it clear that he's grooming you to take his place,” Robert said plainly. “Just so you know, I fully support that. I think of all of us, you're the better bet to lead this outfit. Leon had the right idea in putting other people in charge of specific areas, but we need someone in charge overall, and you're definitely the best choice.”
“I agree,” Ronny chimed in. “Completely.”
“Great,” Clay's sarcasm was thick. “I've been trying to get out of it,” he told them.
“I'd not plan on that happening,” Robert grinned slightly. “Patricia supports you, too, and I know Gordy does. Which means Sam will. And I'd bet that Abby will as well, even if that surprises you.”
“Alicia agrees, and I know the twins will,” Ronny nodded. “Gordon and I haven't spoken of it, but he's been nothing but approving in his support of you so far.”
“Is that right?” This did get Clay's attention.
“I also know that he's corrected Mom more than once when she wanted to try and pressure you to do something,” Robert said. “I think that a lot of Dad's making complaints to you are to placate her. Can't swear to that, but it's what I think.”
“I can actually understand that,” Clay admitted. “Dad and I have had a few words, but he has capitulated pretty quickly.”
“Pro forma all the way, I'd say,” Robert nodded. “The point we're getting at is that while Mom and a few others, namely Malitha George and Marla Jones for sure are giving you a hard time, their support is minimal. I would suppose that Franklin would support them if for no other reason than to please Malitha, but he'd also see it as his mission to oppose that couple on religious grounds as well.”
“I've already had the 'it's a sin' discussion,” Clay agreed.
“Well, it is a sin,” Ronny shrugged. “Bible says so. But the Constitution has been ruled to say it doesn't matter from a legal standpoint. They're entitled to live the way they choose. For most of us, that ends the discussion. They don't really require our approval. So long as they aren't hurting us, then they can do as they please.”
“Made the same argument myself.” Clay didn't add that he was more than pleased to have this kind of support from within his own family.
“Anyway, to cut to the chase, we support you,” Robert said flat out. “Neither of those women has been a step out of line that we know of, and it's not like they're running around making out in front of anyone. Leighton did mouth off at the meet and greet, but maybe she's had this kind of reception before. If so then I can understand her being on the defensive. Or offensive as the case might be.”
“So just so you know,” Robert stood up, “we're behind you. If you need us to say something, we will. We aren't going to unless you ask or need us to, because we talked about it and decided that would look . . . it would be like we were undercutting your authority,” he made a slashing motion with his hand. “We don't want to do that, and you don't deserve it.”
“At the same time,” Ronny spoke up, “we wanted you to know that we got your back, and we can and will support you vocally if you need it. What we don't want to do is take away from your position, though. So, we felt like we needed to let you know where we stand, and then you take the lead. Whatever you need from us, know that we're here. Alicia and Patricia, too,” he added.
Clay was almost overwhelmed, and took a minute to steady himself.
“Guys, you don't know how much weight you just took off my shoulders,” he admitted finally, getting to his feet only with a supreme effort. “I can't thank you enough for this,” he told his brother and brother-in-law.
“You don't have to,” Robert shook his head. “You deserve our support, Clayton. I'm ashamed that you think you have to thank us for it. That means I haven't done enough to make sure you knew I was behind you. So I'm sorry for that.”
“He knew I was behind him, so I ain't gotta be ashamed, or apologize,” Ronny dug at his older brother-in-law, eliciting laughter from the Sanders brothers.
“Seriously guys,” Clay said once the laughter had subsided. “I really mean it. You have no idea how much this means to me. I can't even put it into words that do it justice. T
hank you.”
“Well, that's all we wanted to say,” Robert said, then looked at Ronny. “All I wanted to say, anyway,” he raised an eyebrow at his brother-in-law.
“You agreed we'd do the talking,” Ronny barely managed to keep a straight face waiting for Robert and Clay to burst out laughing.
“All right,” Robert had to wipe his eyes after laughing so hard. “I’ll take the comedian and we’ll get outta your hair,” he told his brother. “With Leon down for a few days we know you’ll be busier than usual. If you need us to do anything just tell us.”
“You guys want to take the tractors and go to Jordan, day after tomorrow?” Clay asked.
“What are we doing?” Ronny asked, serious now.
“We gave them seeds and they sort of elected slash drafted Clem Pickett to be the new 'mayor'. We're going to plow up enough ground around town that they can plant gardens everywhere. If we can muster two tractors then we can use a harrow to help smooth out the ground. Most of it probably never had a taste of the plow.”
“I don't see why we can't,” Ronny said after he exchanged a look with Robert. “You know people will recognize us and the tractors, though.”
“If we can manage masks for you and slap some OD paint on the tractors that might help,” Clay mused. “You guys mind the paint?” he asked.
“I don't,” Robert shook his head. “Dad might be another story.”
“Just make some signs for a fake farm somewhere else,” Ronny shrugged. “Give it an Alabama address or something.”
“That ain't a bad idea,” Robert nodded. “It's not like our rigs are the only ones ever made.”
“That's what we’ll do then,” Clay agreed. “We’ll set you both up with BDU clothing and masks so it will look like you're military. Just keep your faces covered and it should work fine. Thanks guys.”
“We live to serve,” Ronny mock saluted. The two were still laughing when they departed, leaving Clay feeling lighter than he had in . . . since he'd come home, probably. He finished the work he had to do and walked home smiling.
