by Glen Tate
The FCard crew was run by the Pierce Point gate guards, so Dan was in charge of that. Grant would go talk to him. As they were walking back to Grant’s car, the “Tacura,” Ted said, “We could really use a morale boost out here, Grant.”
This was the first Grant had heard about morale being a problem. “Really?” Grant asked, very concerned.
“Well, morale is fine,” Ted said. “Everyone is glad to be here instead of out there,” Ted said motioning toward Frederickson and Olympia. “But we’re a new unit thrown together with people from all different branches. And civilians, too. We need a bonding experience. Thanksgiving dinner would be a good one.”
Chapter 229
And Cranberries, Too
November 11
The free market was an amazing thing. Even the partially-free, corrupt market during a time of lawlessness. A person could get just about anything if they had the money or ammo or gold or whatever.
Even a hundred turkeys. Rich, who loved Grant’s idea about a Thanksgiving dinner, went into town on the FCard run the next day and inquired with Bennington where a person could get some turkey.
Bennington thought Rich was kidding, or maybe that “turkey” was a code word for heroin or child prostitutes. Bennington was surrounded by depravity and evil all day long, so he assumed everyone was a drug addicted child molester. When he realized Rich really wanted poultry, Bennington knew that he needed to get out of his job. He was starting to lose touch with normal things and thought patterns.
“How much you need?” He asked Rich.
“A hundred,” Rich said. They had figured six hundred people. At least fifteen pounds of meat on each turkey. That’s fifteen hundred pounds for six hundred people, or over two pounds per person. There would be lots of leftovers.
“A hundred damned turkeys?” Bennington asked. This seemed far more absurd than the guy Bennington talked to earlier that morning who asked him where he could get kiddie porn.
“Yep, a hundred turkeys,” Rich said. “Is that going to be a problem?” As he said that, Rich realized for the first time how outlandish Grant’s idea really was.
Bennington shrugged and said, “Depends on how much you’re willing to pay.”
“An AR,” Rich said. “You know, one we captured from those damned teabaggers and we need to turn in to the legitimate authorities,” Rich said with a smile.
“Of course,” Bennington said as he was thinking where the hell to get turkeys, let alone that many. “I’ll check around and let you know tomorrow. You’ll come into town, right?”
“Yep,” Rich said. “I’ll be here.”
Bennington left and Rich went about the business of trying to get all the FCard food they could. He could see that Martin’s, the grocery store in town, was running low on just about everything. Someone in line said that the truck didn’t make it yesterday and wouldn’t be here today, either. They used to come every day.
The shelves were halfway bare. It was starting to look like right after the Collapse when everyone rushed into the store and stripped the shelves bare. Not quite to that level now, but maybe heading there.
Rich and the “Marine looking” FCard crew got all they could. Some of the FCards that worked the day before were not working today. Rich knew the government stores would be bare soon. By Christmas, for sure. There was no way this could be sustained.
Next, they went to the gang gas station and got some diesel for the little school bus Winters had given them. They paid for the diesel with some cash, FCards, and a little silver. They had collected this gas money from the people getting their FCard food. The price of diesel was going up, too. It was pretty obvious that the government was having severe difficulties getting food and fuel out to the people. Rich knew this was not going to end well. He was so thankful he was in Pierce Point.
The next day, Rich got both ARs, some mags, and ammo from Chip. Rich would hide the second AR and the magazines and ammo, so hopefully he could get the turkeys for just one AR. It was worth a try.
Rich met Bennington at the city gate. The Blue Ribbon Boys were looking worse and worse. They were skinny, cold, and tired. This was unlike Pierce Point’s guards, who were well fed, warm, rested and, most importantly, wanted to be there. Rich realized that the Blue Ribbon Boys might scare unarmed civilians, but his guys could take them in about fifteen seconds.
Bennington was smiling, which was rare. “Found you some birds,” he said to Rich.
“How many?” Rich asked.
“Eighty-nine,” Bennington said. “Winters called some people in Olympia and found some at the … well, it doesn’t matter where they came from.” There was no use telling Rich which government agency was corrupt and selling its food to the highest bidder.
Rich smiled. “There were turkeys being grown this year? I thought the whole country was on orders to only grow wheat and corn, that kind of thing.”
“Oh we are,” Bennington said. “These are frozen from last year. They’re still good, though.”
“Okay,” Rich said. “I have the AR.”
Bennington shook his head. “One won’t do it. Do you know how hard it is to find turkeys—especially that many—this time of year, when a whole lot of people are hungry?”
Rich wondered what the cost would be. He might not have enough ARs. He had done “pre-Collapse pricing” on the turkeys.
“Pre-Collapse” pricing was the way post-Collapse barter prices were being calculated. People started with the pre-Collapse cost in dollars of the two items. In this case, the pre-Collapse price of a hundred turkeys was about $2,500 or $25 a piece during a Thanksgiving sale. Then Rich looked at what the pre-Collapse price of two ARs was. They were about $1,000 each for a total of $2,000. So eighty-nine turkeys were worth about $2,200 and two ARs were worth $2,000. Throw in some magazines and you’d be in the same neighborhood.
Post-Collapse actual prices depended on much more than just their pre-Collapse dollar prices, however. Supply and demand were everything. If there were a lot of turkeys or ARs, that would affect prices. A scarcity of turkeys or ARs would, too. A burning need someone had for turkeys or ARs would also affect pricing.
Rich knew that Bennington had done the pre-Collapse pricing calculations. It all depended on how much Winters could get for the ARs.
“Three ARs or two with all the fixings,” Bennington said. He had, indeed, done the pre-Collapse pricing.
“I got two ARs,” Rich said. “That’ll have to do.”
“No turkey for you,” Bennington said. He started to get in his car.
“Oh, wait,” Rich said. “I just may have some magazines and five hundred rounds of 5.56.” Rich smiled.
Bennington knew Winters wanted a full case of ammo, but a half case was OK. Winters had no use for these turkeys. What was he going to do with them? Feed people? What a waste that would be. Those ARs, especially the ammo, were worth a lot to the gangs. Winters could only steal so much ammo from the Feds before they’d start to get pissed.
“Deal,” Bennington said as he got on the radio and called for the truck with the turkeys. “Cash and carry. You haul ‘em.”
Rich nodded. He went and got the ARs and the fixings. Pretty soon, a county public works truck showed up with a bunch of turkeys in the back. They all loaded the turkeys into the little school bus.
Bennington motioned for Rich and his crew to come over to the county truck.
“Bonus,” Bennington said. In the cab of the truck were four cases of canned cranberries. “Compliments of the good Commissioner Winters.”
“Awesome,” Rich said. The cranberries truly surprised him. It wasn’t much per person with six hundred people, but a little taste of cranberries would make this seem like a real Thanksgiving.
They loaded the cranberries in the bus and headed back to Pierce Point. The whole ride back Rich kept thinking what an amazing story this would be someday. Going to town to get turkeys in exchange for AR-15s. Right that very instant he was living the things that would be stories
he’d tell his grandkids. That is, if he lived to have grandkids.
Chapter 230
Dinner for a Few Hundred
(November 12)
“What the hell you got there?” one of the gate guards asked Rich, as the little school bus pulled into Pierce Point. All of the seats and the aisles were filled with white round orbs covered in frost. They looked like giant snowballs with a plastic coating.
“What are you doing two Thursdays from now?” Rich asked the guard.
“Nothin’,” the guard said. He thought for a second. “Hey, that’s Thanksgiving, right?”
Rich figured the news of the Thanksgiving dinner could get out now that they actually had the turkeys. The best way to get the news out at Pierce Point was to tell someone and let the rumor mill work its magic.
“You like white or dark meat?” Rich asked the guard and motioned for him to come into the bus and look for himself.
“Shit!” the guard yelled after seeing the turkeys. “No way. No frickin’ way,” he continued. “Wow. We need this. We really need this. Where’d you get this?”
“OPSEC, son,” Rich said. “Just enjoy it on Thanksgiving.”
This was a good sign, Rich thought. People really were primed to have something special—and something that reminded them of the good old days—happen out there. He was getting really excited about Thanksgiving just by watching the guard’s reaction. Grant’s “crazy-ass” idea was a pretty good one, even if it cost two ARs and all the fixings.
Rich and the bus headed to the Grange like they always did to drop off the FCard food they brought in from town.
Chip was the first one to smile as they pulled into the Grange. He couldn’t wait to see what the small fortune he had donated had gotten them. Eighty-nine turkeys in a small school bus is quite a sight, not to mention the cases of cranberries. What a nice touch. Chip knew that a few hundred people would always remember this Thanksgiving as the best one of their lives. The very best.
He got Kathy McClintock, the chief Grange kitchen lady, out to see the haul. Grant and Rich had talked to her and asked if the Grange could cook up a hundred or so turkeys and serve them. She said yes, but thought they were kidding.
The logistics to pull off such a meal would be pretty complicated. They decided it would be easiest to offload all the frozen turkeys to a dozen or so families who would put them in their freezers. The Grange had some refrigerator and freezer space, but not nearly enough to also store food for the daily meal-card people, which was now up to about two hundred a day. Kathy, who was a very typical looking grandmother, had a running list of people in the community who had extra refrigerator and freezer space. She could remember exactly who had what Grange food at their place. These were trusted active Grange people who wouldn’t steal the food. Off-site storage in lots of people’s freezers and refrigerators was just-in-time inventory for the Grange—except it didn’t rely on the internet, semi-trucks, safe passage on thousands of miles of interstate, or access to diesel. So it actually worked.
The second part of the plan was to build a giant wood-fire rotisserie. Some of the metal fabricators, including Paul, would sketch out the plans for one and get the materials together.
The plan was to roast them in twenty-four hour shifts. When they were done, they’d carve them up and have the off-site refrigerators and freezers store the meat. They would also store the bones and innards for soup making later. Not a scrap of these turkeys was going to go to waste. Not everyone would have just-roasted turkey; most would have warmed up meat, but Kathy doubted that anyone would complain.
The fixings—gravy, potatoes, stuffing—would be supplied by potluck. Kathy devised a simple method of assigning side dishes. She used the alphabet. If someone’s last name began with A through E, they brought potatoes. E through J, brought stuffing, and so on. People who didn’t have the ingredients for their assigned item could trade their assignment with another family who did.
There was one special item: pumpkin pie. Kathy was going to put the word out that she needed pumpkins. Several people had grown them in their gardens that year and canned them. Kathy would coordinate all the ingredients for the pies—not an easy feat—and bake them at the Grange. She knew this would take several days without more than a few hours of sleep. But she was in heaven. Cooking a meal so memorable for so many people was what she lived for.
The Grange didn’t have enough dishes, so they would use paper plates. People had lots of them lying around and were willing to pool them together. They didn’t have any plastic utensils, so people were asked to bring their own silverware.
Drew helped, too, using the list of residents to figure out how many people would be coming. The dinner was announced at a Grange meeting and a special edition of the Pierce Point Truth. Drew oversaw his crew of administrative helpers who kept track of RSVPs and helped coordinate who was bringing what. Thanksgiving dinner was a reason for people who hadn’t previously participated in the census to be counted. Drew had been able to keep a very good rough count of people since he’d started the census, but now, with a free Thanksgiving dinner on the line, people were coming forward. The final tally of Pierce Point’s population was five hundred forty-one people. Four hundred eighty-seven sent their RSVPs for the Thanksgiving dinner; an amazingly high percentage. Everyone wanted to be part of this experience, and it wasn’t just for the free food. They wanted the most memorable Thanksgiving of their lives, and to have a little bit of “normal” back, even if it was only for a few hours.
The final part of the plan was getting people there. Many people lived a mile or two away and could walk, even if they were carrying food. A committee coordinated all the rides for those that needed them.
Seats were limited at the Grange, so people would eat in shifts. It would have been great if everyone could have eaten at once, but that wasn’t possible. At first, the idea was to assign a morning, afternoon, or evening spot based on the first letter in a person’s last name. However, people wanted to have dinner with their friends and neighbors. Therefore, people could sign up for a slot as long as the numbers roughly balanced out into each of the three slots. Few people wanted the morning spot, so those who didn’t respond got that one. The natural leaders for a given area, the “block captains” as they became known, went around and made sure people in their area knew what spot they had. It took a tremendous amount of administrative work to feed five hundred people in a little Grange hall. But it was worth every damned moment of effort.
Everyone—every single person—was excited for the Thanksgiving dinner. It gave people confidence in their leaders and—more importantly—in their neighbors. They knew that people were looking out for them. The dinner caused people to knock on each other’s doors and see which of the spots they had for the dinner, to borrow ingredients for their side dishes, and to arrange for rides. People in Pierce Point were close to their neighbors already, but the Thanksgiving dinner made them even closer.
The political decision was made by the residents—at Grant’s suggestion—that the Thanksgiving dinner would be open to all. Just like the first Thanksgiving at Plymouth Rock. But this dinner would be the last freebie for people who didn’t work for the community.
The news that Thanksgiving would be the one and only freebie got a few of the slackers to sign up for jobs and get a meal card. The ones who didn’t were too far gone to worry about. They were totally on their own after getting numerous chances to pitch in and be fed.
On top of this excitement and planning for the Pierce Point dinner, Ted and Grant were busy planning a secret Thanksgiving dinner for the 17th, too. It was easier to plan this one because it was a military unit and a leader just gave orders and people followed them. But still, there were a lot of logistics to feeding all those people in secret.
They devised a plan for Kathy McClintoch and her crew to roast all of the eighty-nine turkeys at the Grange and Chip would bring the ones for the 17th out to the Marion Farm. Kathy would be told that between ten and
fifteen turkeys and a corresponding amount of fixings were going to the “rental team.”
The 17th had limited access to the ingredients for proper Thanksgiving side dishes. They had mashed potato mix—plenty of that because it was an FCard staple—and even had some stuffing. A few months ago, Carl, Stan, Tom, and Travis had stolen a bunch of food back in Olympia. In the summer, no one wanted stuffing mix, so it was just sitting out at a government facility. The 17th had been eating stuffing non-stop all summer and fall. People were actually tired of it, but that was OK. The 17th was eating better than most people in the country.
To provide the most authentic Thanksgiving meal, Grant and Ted made sure the Grange would provide side dishes other than potatoes and stuffing. Chip would bring cranberries and the ultra-coveted pumpkin pie to the “rental team.”
The Thanksgiving meal planning at the 17th raised morale there, too. Soldiers were talking to each other about Thanksgiving traditions from their families back before all this started. But the fact that, even in this bleak world of rainy Washington State in the middle of a pending war, life was going on like normal. They would have a Thanksgiving dinner. There was hope. Things hadn’t gone completely down the crapper. Not completely.
People were talking about how much better Thanksgiving would be next year. This would all be over in a few months and things would be back to normal next year. They hoped.
Since so many Thanksgiving traditions had been interrupted by the Collapse, people had a clean slate to start plenty of new ones. And they did.
Families started their own new traditions. For example, Grant and Lisa allowed the kids (who were now teenagers) to try some wine that day. A neighbor had made some homemade wine from berries. It was amazing. Grant was afraid the kids would like it too much. As a community, Pierce Point also started its own tradition. The Wednesday night before Thanksgiving, they held a Thanksgiving service at the church. It was not very “religious” at all. Non-believers and people who hadn’t been to church in a while were welcomed and they felt comfortable there. There was no sermon, but a very appropriate prayer thanking God for all they had. The bulk of the service was people standing up and telling everyone what they were thankful for. It was amazing and heartwarming. Many couples who hadn’t told each other how thankful they were for each other stood in front of everyone and told the whole community how much their spouse meant to them. There were lots of tears. Happy tears. Thankful tears.
