by J. B. Craig
“Then what, smart-ass” challenged Tripp.
“Well, dumb-ass”, Greg retorted, as some of the residents snorted “we grow food – just like our great-Grandparents did. This is very fertile soil, as any of you who have had some of Grandma’s tomatoes know. I know she shared the bounty of her garden with many of you.” Several heads nodded. Ethyl, whom he remembered from happy hour with Grandma smiled at Greg and gave him a thumbs-up.
“I have a tiller that is a hand-crank one in my garage, and I bet many of you have various gardening tools that still work, right?” Greg asked.
More heads nodded. One older gentleman said, “I have an old John Deere tractor, and it works, although fuel may be a problem.”
“No problem this year” said Greg, “Look at all the cars that don’t work. Whether you need gas or diesel, there’s enough cars around that we can use it, and I think I have fuel stabilizer in my garage for longer-term fuel issues. There’s still lots of undeveloped land on the circle, and I have seeds, as I bet some of you do. You can also find out what your absent neighbors have to help out.”
“What?” Yelled Trip. “Are you suggesting we loot our neighbor’s houses, you Thug?” Several of the community members looked at Tripp and nodded. “This is America, and people worked for their property rights. We can’t just take their property.”
“No, Tripp. Looting is stealing something from someone who needs it. IF, and that’s a very big IF, our absent neighbors make the long walk from wherever they live, I’m sure they’d be pleased to know that we ‘helped ourselves’ to their property IF it helps us, as a community, survive, including what may be in their un-opened freezers now, especially when we offer them food from the community garden that we are going to grow! Freezers full of rotten food won’t help anyone, but we can live on what’s in those freezers now. They can come here and enjoy the fruits of whatever we grow on their land. I won’t stand by if people are looting Jewelry or other valuables that can’t help us. Family heirlooms, except guns, are to be left in place for the owners. We can re-evaluate the jewelry and any precious metals if we ever are in a situation where we need them to trade for items of survival. Right now, we’re not in that situation.”
“What makes you think you can just come in here and start telling us what we’re going to do?!?!” screamed Tripp. “You don’t even belong here.” His face was getting red. You want to take people’s guns? That’s communist!
“Look, Tripp. Folks, if anyone comes back, they will be entitled to anything that we borrow from their house. If we were to lose the peninsula to the bad guys that, I promise, are coming, and we could have saved their homes from being burned down, I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t begrudge our using their guns to defend their community.”
“You’re talking like it’s your community, too. You are not one of us!” Trip was spluttering at the thoughts of his rights being trampled.
“Chill out, buddy. You look like you’re going to explode? Do you have high blood pressure? I’ve got some pills from the empty houses around me. Do we have any diabetics here? I’ve got some insulin in this cooler here, along with other medicines. I cannot vouch for their expiration dates.”
“Oh, Thank God!” yelled one of the residents, named Bill. “I thought I was going to lose my wife Lynn – we’re almost out!”
“Thank Greg.” Said Jennifer, under her breath. Nellie reached down and held her hand, smiling with her.
Greg smirked, as he, Nellie and Angel were the only 2 to hear her. Angel gave Greg a low-five, subtly.
“Here’s the deal, Tripp, and fellow Rock citizens. My leaving the peninsula is not going to happen. It’s non-negotiable. Shy of killing me, and prying my cold, dead hands from my OWN firearms”, he patted his hip, “I’m going to stay here, and help you survive, and defend whatever we build. I’m not asking for your permission, just your forgiveness for my being here. I will add value to this community, as will my friends, Angel and Carlos, and their friends back on the circle. They got stranded here, just as I did. I hope Nellie and Jennifer can convince you that we’re not mad terrorist rapists.” The ladies smiled and nodded, staring defiant looks at those that still were unconvinced.
“I mean no disrespect, but there’s not a lot of us who can do the heavy lifting that will be required to build our garden and more importantly, defend the community. We can all have a meeting about that in the future. I think we’re OK for a few more days, but remember, people all around are going to be hungry, and eventually desperate enough to try to TAKE what we have, at gunpoint probably. Here’s what I think we need to focus on now:”
“First – Water. You may not know it, but you’ve each probably got 50 gallons of water in your hot water heaters. This is drinking water, and your empty neighbor’s houses have the same. Use it. Survive. Water is first. We also have gutters, and rain water can be consumed with care. We will help you gather rain water, and I can talk you through the safe way to drink it. I’ll ask that you clean your own gutters, if possible, but if not, ask us for help.”
“Second – Food. Don’t eat anything from your fridge that looks sketchy – it’s better used as crab bait. If you have seeds, especially heirloom, please let me know. We’ll set up a large hybrid garden on the circle this year, and a smaller heirloom garden upwind. I don’t know a lot about this, but I fear cross-pollination of seeds that we can harvest and use year after year.”
At the thought of being in this situation next year, some residents were talking among themselves. The thought of the power being out lasting longer than a few days was shifting a few more of the crowd towards Greg. Others could not wrap their heads around the concept and were shifting towards Tripp’ side.
Greg continued, “Look, I don’t know when or if help is arriving, I’m just thinking ahead, which brings me to my next point – Defense. Do we have any ex-military or LEO (Law Enforcement Officers) in the room?”
About a half-dozen hands went up.
“Any with combat experience or Officers?”, Greg asked.
All hands went down, except a few that looked to be Korea or Vietnam soldiers. Bill and Chet stood proud. A guy with a beard put his hand down, but the woman whispering in his ear was animated. Greg filed this away for later.
Are you gentlemen officers, or combat veterans?
Both laughed at the officer question and said that they were both Vietnam Veterans.
“Good, an Officer would have just mucked it up.” Greg smiled, to the nods of many of the veterans. “I was a Sergeant in the Army, and unless there’s any push-back, or you 2 gents want to run this circus, I’m happy to volunteer to be the chief of security for the island. I’ve already set up a watch stand, but we need to push our defense out to the choke-point where the community’s peninsula entry is. If you want me to run it, I’m going to need you 2 to be my Secretaries of Defense, please.
The 2 Vietnam vets gave Greg a thumbs-up. Chet said, “Not my circus, not my monkeys, but I’m happy to help if you need advice when things go sideways.”
Greg joked back at the 2 heroes who earned their respite from leadership. “So, YOU can do KP, and YOU can do latrines, OK?”
Both Veterans laughed, and Chet said, “You’ll do fine as Chief. We’ve got your back. With my diabetes, I won’t be much help, and Bill here can barely hear.”
Bill said “What?” in an exaggerated way, and then smiled and gave his thumbs up.
“What?” Sputtered Tripp. “You think you can oversee anything here?”
“No, I don’t, Tripp. I’m offering to help. If you – no, make that WE, the Rock community, don’t want my help, I’ll go home to my circle, with my friends here, and we can set up our own defense. THAT is non-negotiable. Seahawk Circle WILL be defended to the death. However, I hope it doesn’t come down to that. The more of us we have, the more land we can hold, and the more people we have for guard and support duty. With more land, we can plant larger crops and harvest a greater variety of food. Although I don’t expect you to di
rty your hands with digging, Tripp.”
The heads were nodding, and one of the older military gentlemen in the crowd said “I move that we make Greg our head of security, and that we do all of the things he’s said so far. They’re all good ideas.”
A little over half of the hands in the room went up. Tripp still had a core of supporters. He muttered something about how this was not acceptable at all and stared daggers at the group from the circle.
Greg tried to close the gap between the 2 groups. “Folks, let’s start with this. If any of you have friends that you don’t want their house salvaged, then YOU get in, and at least take care of the perishables. Then you put a red X on their door, and nobody will salvage their goods. I’d like to talk about this at the next meeting, though. The thought of wasted resources rusting away in an abandoned house really bothers me, but I respect that almost half of you haven’t come around to this yet. Maybe the lights will come back on.” Greg heard the transformers explode, and knew that this wasn’t going to happen, but shifting a whole community’s theories of culture and norms was something he did at work for 20 years, through 7 mergers. It was never easy to get the holdouts to change their tune, and could only be done with consistent, supportive leadership. Talking the talk and walking the walk would be critical to make them believe what was coming.
Once again, Nellie helped, with, “Tripp, you need to stop being so uptight, and pull your head out your ass. Greg’s talking sense, here. So get with the plan, boss-man, or get the hell out of town! You’ve always been an asshole, and today is no exception.”
Several of the community members smiled, nodded, or flat-out laughed. Trip stormed off with, “This isn’t the end of it!”
Greg watched Tripp leave, smiled, and said. “Now, I’ve got this beautiful pulled pork – anyone have any bread, plates, pickles and things for the picnic? I certainly hope at least one of you has some real Carolina BBQ sauce – the vinegar-based kind, although I don’t want to impugn the mustard-based lovers. BBQ sauce is something that everyone gets their own taste for. In my limited experience, vinegar is the best in the world for this stuff.”
Bill’s wife, Lynn, smiled, and said that she had everything needed to make it homemade. “I won’t have any of you eating Carolina BBQ from a grocery store.” I’ll be back in 30 minutes! Nellie offered to get the kids, and the rest of the construction workers from the peninsula, and they all showed up with kids, smiles, and their own additions to the party, like some bread, refried beans, and a bunch of pickled vegetables.
Residents also left to get supplies and scurried back to their nearby houses for the first picnic of the confederation of the post-Apocalyptic Rock Harbor survivors, although they didn’t call it that. The picnic was an amazing bounty of food that was going to go bad anyway in community freezers. People made good calls on freezer food, and nobody ended up sick. Plans were made, as residents talked about their background, and knowledge.
By the end of the night, leaders from among his supporters had emerged, and he knew others would come around. The community had a chief of gardening – Ethyl, Grandma’s friend and fellow gardener. She said she knew something about smoking and salting food, to preserve it, and asked if anyone would help. Several of the farmers who lived on the peninsula, but had crops outside, joined her team. They made it clear that they would need manual labor, and protection, but would be happy to bring their crops to the community. They said that their winter wheat was already growing, and that corn had been planted, but soybeans would be following the wheat.
A few other folks joined her team and said they would help gather any remaining meat to be preserved. Greg had not thought of that and was glad that there were wiser people in the room than he was. Preservation of food would mean life through the winter. While Virginia didn’t suffer crippling winters, it did have freezing days, and occasionally snow, so having a plan to get through the freeze would be up to Ethyl and her team. Having something other than seafood was also something that pleased Greg. It would be scarce in the days to come.
Ethyl committed her team to gathering Dandelions, for their greens, and Kudzu, an edible invasive weed. While not the tastiest food on the planet, it was edible, and added some vitamins and minerals to the diet, not to mention roughage. She also said that sunflowers could go down now and would be a great addition to the diet in a few months.
Lynn offered to oversee the community laundry. She had some ideas on how to keep clothes clean and create rag-bags of bandages that would be sterile, if they were ever needed.
The Harbor also had a Chief of Fisheries, a retired fisherman named Samuel, who would take charge of the distribution of protein from the river. “Captain Sam” said that he almost had his diesel boat engine figured out and was sure that he’d have a running crab boat in the next few days. The Rock Harbor Association would soon have a Navy!!! Greg pulled Sam aside, and they discussed the wisdom of Marking crab pots versus having them hidden. He also had concerns about showing a power boat on the water, with visibility for miles in every direction.
They disagreed on the verdict, but also agreed that both methods of crabbing would be used. One would increase the harvest, by being able to trap in the middle of the water. The other was the community’s chance of defeating poachers and boat thieves – if poaching became a problem. Sam said that he would use the boat, motor and all to harvest those marked in the middle of the river, and he enlisted Carlos to take on the task of harvesting the pier-tied crab pots. With a little translation help from Jennifer, a plan around the crab pots was finalized. Carlos also communicated that he had a few “secret holes” for catching perch and croaker, as he liked to take some time to fish from the river after work was done.
Greg volunteered the 2-person canoe, paddle boat and kayak from his place, along with his one-person fishing kayak (with outriggers) to Captain Sam and his group of fish-slayers. He did reserve the right to take the fishing kayak out at his discretion, as it was one of his favorite toys, and he never came home without fish on the stringer. The navy just got bigger by 4 boats.
Rock Harbor also ended the evening with a Chief of Medicine. He was the shy combat veteran from earlier, a retired army medic, who said that his name was just “Doc”. He didn’t volunteer for the job, but his wife Kim “volunteered” him. Doc was a quiet man, haunted by his past. He was wounded in Afghanistan saving several soldiers and was a silver star recipient with scars from more than one injury. Greg tried to get more out of him on his service time, but he got quieter than he was already, and mumbled, “I just did my job, like everyone else I had the honor to serve with, both living and dead.” That said, he did accept the role, and started gathering and cataloging the medicines.
His wife Kim was an EMT and said that she would round up a few helpers to scavenge the houses for medicine. Greg told her that he had a stash of opiates, that he did not bring, and asked her if she would manage them so that no abuse of these powerful medicines occurred on the peninsula. She agreed and said she would make sure Doc ‘prescribed’ only as needed.
Greg also told her about his large can of Fish-Mox. This was Amoxicillin for fish that he had in his prepper bag. This was supposed to be the same medicine prescribed by doctors, but could be bought at the local pet store. It just needed to have the dosage managed appropriately. Greg had no idea what that meant, so was glad for Doc and Kim’s presence. He just read about it in one of his prepper books, and bought it, to be figured out when needed. Antibiotics would be important in the future, whether the injuries came from cuts, bullets, or an abscessed tooth.
With Doc, Greg knew when to shut up, as he knew the best of the heroes rarely bragged on their service. Doc didn’t even raise his hand when Greg asked for combat vets. One thing he learned from his time in the Army during Desert Storm was that those who spoke loudest of their exploits did the least. Heroes don’t talk about it, even with each other, unless they went through something together. Those that are that close to don’t need to talk about it, b
ecause they also lived it. He was just glad that Doc and Kim had volunteered to help, and he bet that they would turn out to be a very important asset in the Rock Army. In Doc’s eyes, Greg saw a fellow warrior who saw more than he signed up for, and vowed to try to connect in a quieter setting someday.
Greg worked the crowd and took an informal poll of any firearms the citizens had. He asked for volunteers to be on the security team. He explained that this meant keeping regular watches, 24-7, and by the end of the night, he had about a half-dozen security team members, not counting the Hondurans, with various calibers of ammunition. Most residents had small-caliber handguns, with a few hunting rifles and shotguns. Unfortunately, there was only one semi-automatic rifle, and AR-15 on the island, but Captain Sam volunteered his “ships gun” to the team if he could secure something with a scope, or a shotgun to defend his home and boat.
Greg didn’t yet offer up the Mauser, but would if it came down to it. It was his only long-gun, and the AR needed to be at the guard post near the community entry for every shift. Several members of the community knew that their absent neighbors had firearms, and the group agreed to scavenge the rest of the empty houses on the peninsula to find firearms, and to pool any dry goods in the community center the next night, for what would become a recurring community happy-hour of shared bounty, although the bounty was certain to diminish as the days and weeks went on.
