Moving With The Sun

by Nicki Huntsman Smith

  “Barbed wire? What were you doing at the northern perimeter, Howard?” Lucas said. “You know that area is off limits.”

  “It’s none of your business what I was doing there,” the man snapped.

  “Wrong. It is our business,” Rosemary said. “We have rules for a reason. They keep people safe. You pull something like that again and you’re out.”

  Her statement evoked a wave of head nodding. There were few restrictions on personal freedoms in the Colony, but staying away from the northern perimeter was an imperative. They had cordoned off the uppermost part of the island from their small southern Colony as a means of managing less area. It was rumored Rosemary had used some of the leftover explosives from the bridge demolition for land mines placed on the northern side of the barbed wire; the Colony leader would neither confirm nor deny it. Warning signs placed along the wire fencing announced their presence – a brilliant deterrent whether true or not.

  Rosemary had evicted people for less than an unapproved perimeter breach.

  “The new girl arrived yesterday morning and last night we have a mutilated cat?” It was Ingrid who spoke this time.

  “She was restrained and in my house last night.”

  “Hmmmph. Well, it’s rather suspicious, if you ask me. We’ve never had anything like this happen before, and within a day of her appearance, bizarre events begin occurring.”

  “There was just the cat, Ingrid. Please, people, let’s not start pointing fingers. I only bring this up because you have the right to know what happens here. Let’s stay calm and keep our eyes open. Report any curious behavior to me or Lucas ASAP. Got it? Okay, next business.”

  For an hour, the minutiae of survival on the island was discussed.

  The henhouse was doing well; egg production was at an all-time high, thus the cookies everyone enjoyed that evening. Charlotte said they would soon have enough chickens to sustain their egg requirements and still have a few for slaughtering. People were delighted at the prospect of chicken instead of fish for a change.

  The reverse osmosis system and the new wind turbine had been installed on Ingrid’s well and should be up and running the next day, according to Chin, the Colony’s engineer. The strange little man rarely spoke, and when he did his accent was so heavy that few people could understand him. He avoided eye contact with everyone and lived alone in a house set off by itself. If not for his skill in assembling the solar farm that provided electricity to the Love Shack, Rosemary might not have allowed him to stay. He was a weirdo and a loner, but he was a genius with anything mechanical or electrical. You could put up with a lot of weird for someone that knowledgeable.

  Tyler’s aquaponics were thriving. The tilapia were breeding well, and there were plans to add watercress and arugula to the kale and spinach being cultivated. With Chin’s help, Tyler had built an impressive system using PVC pipe and plastic troughs. The power necessary to run the pump was supplied by a few of the precious solar panels. The set-up was ingenious, low maintenance, and sustainable in Florida, unlike other parts of the country where the temperatures were too frigid in the winter months.

  Hector had some bad news to relate about the community garden. “We have a beetle problem. A Mexican bean beetle problem.”

  “Border bandit bean beetle!”

  Tyler punched Kenny in the bicep. “Sorry.”

  “Anyway,” Hector continued, unperturbed – everyone was eventually a target for the teenager, “they can be very destructive. As you know, we have some pesticides, but they are not as effective as they were two years ago. And they are not safe for our food. So we must look to natural solutions. First, we will replace the pole beans after the harvest with bush beans, which are less susceptible. I have some seeds in my collection. Second, we will move the lemongrass plants next to the crop that is infected. Their fragrance is a deterrent. Third, we must pluck every one of those nasty creatures from the plants and squish them. This is labor intensive and I will need a few extra hands to get the job done. The last thing we want is for the infestation to spread. The soybeans are at risk, as are the squash and tomatoes. Do not be fooled by the cute appearance of this tiny monster which looks like a yellow ladybug. If you see one anywhere, destroy it immediately. On a more pleasant topic, I would like to cultivate a new area for an additional grain crop. I am considering oats. Does everyone agree with my choice?”

  “It doesn’t matter if everyone agrees,” Rosemary said. “You’re the expert. If you think oats would be best, that’s all I need to know. Your seed collection must be extensive.”

  Hector nodded, squeezing Ingrid’s hand under the wooden table. “I am grateful to have access to a variety of other seeds which we will introduce at a later date...perhaps avocados and pintos. This border bandit has a hankering for guacamole and refried frijoles.” Hector winked in Kenny’s direction.

  “Very well. We’ll send some people for the bug-squishing tomorrow. Next order of business...” she began, then was cut off mid-sentence by a flash of lightning, followed by the rumble of distant thunder.

  It had been five weeks since the last measureable rain event. A steady soaking would be welcome – a thunderstorm with damaging winds or hail would not.

  All eyes were riveted to the burgeoning of night-gray clouds on the horizon.

  “Chin, do we need to cover the older solar panels? I know only the newer ones are weatherproofed.”

  The small man lifted his nose up to the sudden breeze. Everyone waited. Chin dispensed words like a poor kid spending his hard-earned allowance.

  He shrugged, and in his heavily accented voice, said, “How I know? I not a goddamn weather man.” Then he clucked his tongue and gave a dramatic roll of his eyes.

  Kenny snickered.

  Ingrid snorted.

  “Fortunately for you all,” Zoey said, standing, “I am a goddamn weather woman. Well, almost. I only lacked a few credits to get my degree.” She withdrew something from the pocket of her oversized jeans. She had brought no clothing on the swim over from the mainland, but she had sealed a few items in a Ziploc bag and tucked them into a backpack. Rosemary had gone through her possessions, of course, so knew what the young woman now held in her hand.

  “What’s that? A barometer?” someone asked.

  “Yes, an aneroid barometer. Cool, huh? Now stand back, folks, and let me work my magic.”

  The device looked archaic – a sentimental artifact decorating the mahogany desk of a retired naval commander. The young woman fiddled with the gadget’s two hands for the next few moments. She licked her finger and held it to the gusting wind.

  The auburn brows frowned. More fidgeting with the instrument. Finally, she glanced up to a sea of anxious faces.

  “The barometric pressure is at 29.80 and falling rapidly. The wind is out of the south and heading east. That’s pretty much the perfect combination for severe storms.”

  “Like a hurricane?”

  “No, duh. We’d have different conditions in advance of a hurricane...rain bands, etc. I predict this will be an ass-kicking thunderstorm. High winds and hail are likely. Possibly a tornado.”

  “Chin?” Rosemary said to the small man.

  “Yeah, yeah. All hands on deck. Plywood ready, next to Love Shack. I show what needs covered.”

  As everyone began to leave, Rosemary stopped Fergus with a light tap to his shoulder. He spun, taking his time shifting focus from the eye-level breasts up to her face. By the time his attention was where it should be, his eyes were glazed and he wore a happy smile deep within the rusty beard.

  She sighed. “Have you ever considered covert ogling? It’s all the rage these days.”

  “Yes, yes. I’ve been meaning to work on that. Can’t have jealous boyfriends knocking out these flawless teeth. How may I be of service to you? Just know that there is nothing – absolutely nothing – of a sexual nature that I would deny you. I just want to make that clear. Amelia and I have an open relationship, you know.”

  She blinked slow
ly.

  “Sorry. There is very little of anything I would deny you, even if it is not of a sexual nature. What may I do for you?”

  Rosemary scanned the picnic area. They had the place to themselves.

  “I’m taking a chance on you, Fergus. I assume you’re not the spy sent from Tequesta.”

  “You have assumed correctly. Of course, I would say the same thing if you had assumed incorrectly. Spies are notorious liars.”

  “I don’t think you’re a spy, and we need to know more about those Terminators. God, that’s such a stupid name. I want to send someone...a trusted someone...over there to infiltrate their operation. Something tells me you fit in wherever you go. I think you could pull it off. You’re quick on your feet, and you’re smart. And you’re a man. According to Zoey, that group is testosterone-driven. Think you could fake being a misogynistic jerk?”

  “A few women from my past would suggest those traits come naturally to me.”

  “It would be dangerous.”

  “My dear, I don’t merely laugh in the face of danger. I whip out my impressive wanker and piss on it until it drowns a lingering, ammonia-scented death.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “Then I slice it up into chunks, throw it on the grill, and feed it to lesser men for lunch. Then I laugh. And not just an amused chuckle, but a full-throttle, deep-chested guffaw.”

  Another slow blink.

  “Very well. I accept your assignment. I’ve always wondered how it would feel to be a double agent. When do I depart?”

  “Tomorrow morning before dawn. You know how to avoid the trip wire. Take a kayak from the beach. Don’t let anyone see where you’re going.”

  “Except Amelia, of course.”

  A pause. “Yes, I guess that can’t be helped. The fewer people who know about this mission, the better. I’ll tell everyone that you’re on a quest for replacement filters for the reverse osmosis system. That will make Ingrid happy.”

  “A kiss for luck then? You may be sending me to my death.”

  Rosemary kissed the sunburned cheek with genuine affection.

  “Fergus, do not get yourself killed. I’ve grown rather fond of you.”

  “I shall do my best.” He was gone the next moment.

  The Colony leader stood next to the picnic tables, watching the night sky. An electrified fork appeared suddenly, followed by an ear-splitting boom. The storm was almost upon them.

  ***

  “Get out of here, now! I don’t want you getting hit by hailstones!” Lucas yelled to Rosemary.

  They were the final two Colonists standing in the solar panel field, exposed to the storm’s ferocity. Everyone else had sought cover. Blustery gusts and a torrential downpour weren’t as concerning as the frozen precipitation that had joined the party moments ago. With every passing second, the hail was growing larger, heavier, and more deadly. Pea-sized ice pebbles smacked against tender flesh with a malevolence that seemed intentional. Even worse, it was transitioning to the size of walnuts, capable of fracturing a skull. If it got much bigger, the plywood shields covering the precious solar panels could be compromised.

  “We’re almost finished!” she yelled back.

  The gusts, coming every few seconds now, felt purposeful and determined – the focused energy of a spiteful god.

  They struggled to haul the final piece of plywood to the farthest corner of the field. As they situated it on top of the panel, stretching the bungee cords around its girth, a frigid ping pong ball smacked against Rosemary’s shoulder.

  “Shit, that hurt!”

  Lucas’s feral grin didn’t improve the situation.

  “I told you. Now, let’s get the hell out of this.”

  They ran together back to the porch overhang of the Love Shack. The remaining Colonists who hadn’t fled to their homes stood huddled and miserable. Initially, when the deluge began, it was met with euphoria; rain water in a drought is a gift from the heavens. When the hail began, the elation vanished. Nothing good ever came from a hail storm.

  “This is bad, Rosemary,” Hector said in a quiet voice. She barely heard him through the din of the screaming-banshee wind and the hailstones crashing against the roof. “I know you are concerned about our electricity, but I am worried about the crops.”

  “I know, Hector. I am too.”

  There was nothing else to be said.

  Chapter 14 – Tyler

  “Most of the tilapia are fine,” Tyler said to the small group that had gathered next to the aquaponics facility the next morning. It was located in the backyard of the empty house next to his. The hail and wind from the previous night had destroyed the kale and spinach. Leafy greens were fast growers, but it would still be weeks before the Colonists enjoyed a salad. Or fresh vegetables. The group had already inspected the community garden, where a similar tableau told a story of devastating loss. The lovely morning and achingly blue sky were at odds with the grim mood.

  They faced a food shortage similar to that which had immediately followed Chicxulub almost two years ago.

  “Next time we should install some kind of netting to cover everything. A sheer, protective fabric of some sort that would allow sun to reach the plants,” Rosemary said.

  Tyler noticed she spoke in the tone that meant she was dismayed but would not let it to show. Looking at the destruction was gut-wrenching – so much hard work wiped out by a fifteen-minute hailstorm.

  “Where would we get such fabric?” Ingrid asked. She was subdued this morning. Thoughtful, even, unlike everyone else, who looked shell-shocked. “The nearest Hobby Lobby is in Tequesta. I don’t see us braving those ruffians for a bit of cheesecloth.”

  Hector said, “Not cheesecloth. Cotton rots. We would want polypropylene that allows sunlight to penetrate but is tear and puncture-resistant. It is quite expensive...well, it was. But we should be able to find rolls of it in any well-stocked garden center. I know of several on the mainland. We would need much yardage to cover everything.”

  “All that’s fine and good for the future, but it does nothing to help our current situation.”

  “People are going to be hungry,” Rosemary said. “We still have fish and eggs and some frozen vegetables at the Love Shack, but they won’t last long. We’ll have to initiate a rationing system. We’ve been spoiled, and now we have to tighten our belts.”

  There was resolve on the attractive face. Tyler did not envy Rosemary her position as Colony leader. Hungry people could be total assholes.

  “Tyler, bring your bicycle trailer and come with me, please.” Ingrid’s abrupt directive cut through the collective despair.

  “What are you planning?” Hector’s smile indicated he knew what was about to happen.

  “Just a bit of altruism. I hope it doesn’t ruin my reputation. Tyler? Chop, chop.”

  Five minutes later, he stood gawking at a treasure trove of non-perishable food. He had been in Ingrid’s house many times and had never noticed the secret door that led to a butler’s pantry. The doorway had been disguised before the end came, she explained. The room was spacious, its four walls obscured by Ingrid’s foresight: shelf after shelf of canned goods; stacks of plastic buckets labeled ‘emergency food’; columns of bagged rice, dried beans, rolled oats, salt, and sugar. Intricate metal scaffolding scaled the fourth wall, built for the purpose of holding wine bottles at the correct angle to keep the corks moist. He counted more than a hundred.

  “Holy crap, Ingrid.”

  “I know. Impressive, isn’t it? Now, here’s the deal. You can’t tell anyone. About the extent of it, I mean. I want to help, but I don’t want people to become dependent. Do you understand? This would all be consumed very quickly if we got lazy and didn’t grow and catch and raise our food.”

  “I understand, and I agree. Nobody else needs to know about this. Hector knows though, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay, this stays between the three of us. Allowing others to know would put you in danger. I’m not sa
ying I don’t trust everyone here, but...”

  “Yes, I know what you mean. So we shall say that I just had the things that we’ll load on the trailer today.”

  Tyler looked at the still-lovely face, noting the delicate wrinkles framing the keen hazel eyes and parchment skin taut on the jawline. Ingrid was a force of nature – especially for a seventy-year-old. And she was doing a Goliathan kindness, sacrificing for the greater good. As with her well, which was producing an abundance of water, she would save their asses…again.

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I don’t. But it is the right thing to do. I have always put myself before others. You should know that about me. But it’s never too late to improve oneself. This old leopard is changing her spots. I’ve decided to go with Madras plaid instead. It’s perfect for summer.” She winked. “Now let’s get some food loaded. I imagine Charlotte can create some culinary wonders with this stuff. God knows I can’t.”

  Soon after, Kenny helped Tyler unload the food at the Love Shack under Charlotte’s supervision.

  “There are fifty-three residents, right?” the teenager said, standing idle now with arms crossed. He had been unusually quiet while carrying all the cans, buckets, and bags inside the building.

  “Yes. Zoey makes fifty-three.”

  “All that food we just unloaded will last two months, by my calculations.”

  “You have a computer for a brain?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Seriously, how did you come up with that?”

  “I kept a running tally as we unloaded it, then factored in portion sizes, caloric content, and the Colony’s population. Elementary, my dear Watson.”

  “Is that an accurate assessment? Or are you just pulling a number out of your butt?”

  “The pearls dispensed by my butt are superior to the vocalized so-called wisdom of some.”

  Tyler laughed. “I believe you, little dude.”