by G.R. Carter
*****
“That’s the last of them for today, Mom,” Rebekah sighed. One thousand, seven hundred and fifty-seven people went through the lines and were served their meal. Or at least that was the last head count two days ago, and usually they all showed up for the daily meal. Just enough calories for one adult person to survive and get some work done. That plus one of the protein bars handed out in the morning and the evening had so far kept hunger from destroying the Old Main College community. Julia Ruff, who was still considered President of the College even after days of confusion and turmoil, finished her weekly stint as cook. She sank into the chair behind the serving counter, ripping off her apron and throwing it into the corner.
She was exhausted, but thankful that for one more day her little flock had at least a little something in their stomach. From the little news that trickled in from outside their community, it sounded like most were dead, starving, or quite willing to make someone else dead for a meal. Just a few weeks since the power went out, and already America was gone. Julia knew her country was greatly weakened from the once-mighty empire of her youth, but she never expected the collapse to be so epic or quick. Only fast action and, she believed, the grace of God, allowed her group to make it through so far.
On the day the computers and everything that required electricity stopped, she had over three thousand students and almost five hundred faculty and staff on campus and living in the surrounding community. Only half were accounted for at the last head count. Many of the students made their way home, wherever that might have been. Those who couldn’t get home remained here on the campus, many still hopefully glancing into the parking lot to see their parents pull in to pick them up. That did still happen occasionally, but it was rarer all the time. Some of the parents even decided to stay here on campus; from the tales they told about the trip, at least some semblance of organization held hope, at least compared to what people were experiencing outside.
The staff was a different story. Better than three quarters of the faculty and most of the support staff left and went home, never to return. Unlike her concern for her students, Julia simply couldn’t have cared less about what happened to those adults who left these frightened young people behind to fend for themselves. These kids were away from their families, sometimes hundreds of miles away from home. How could they have left them?
Most of her Applied Sciences staff brought their families here to live on campus, and their miracles helped save them all from starvation. The entire campus lawn was torn up to be planted with any seeds they could get their hands on. The little bit of livestock at the College farms and in the surrounding area was housed in the basketball arena under armed guard. Armed guard…more like the football team in their helmets with whatever weapons we could find for them. At least they’re brave!
The Applied Science Department developed a nutritious method of mixing grain with available local fruit and vegetable matter several years before. To the common eye, what the professors created looked like a granola bar purchased in a box at the grocery store. However, there was a secret formulation Applied Science created to both bond and preserve the nutrients in a natural form. The College had intended to patent the process, hoping to use the proceeds to endow their college for future generations.
Instead, the federal government nationalized the formula, and before they knew it, the Department of Human Services mandated what they called Ration Bars for citizens all over the country. Unauthorized food sources were banned in the name of environmental safety and proper nutrition. Since the EPA regulated most private farms out of business, subsidized government food handouts – known to disgusted citizens as “Rat Bars” – became the only way to effectively feed the multi–millions stacked on top of one another in the urban centers.
None of that mattered now; those cities were mostly dead, and the government regulators right along with them. The College staff simply dusted off the formula and went to work producing food for all the remaining people at the college and in town. Grain from local farm storage was ground up and mixed with whatever fruits, vegetables and vitamins were available. Owners of the few remaining school cafeterias and private restaurants around town donated their supply and expertise in exchange for a safe place to stay on campus.
“What’s the matter, Mom? You seem extra troubled tonight,” Rebekah asked.
“Just worrying about food, Bek. Every time we sit down and run our calculations, we come up short on how long the supplies will last. I don’t think we can cut back any more on the calories we’re giving people, but were going to run out before the first batch of crops come in.”
“Have faith, Mom. You always tell me ‘Good things happen to good people,’ right?”
Julia nodded and smiled at her with reassurance. That’s right, my wonderful daughter, we could use a miracle right about now.
