by Mark Goodwin
Kate forced a smile at the unflattering salutation.
“I’m their brother, Boyd.” He stepped forward and offered his hand.
Pritchard did not accept the greeting. “Yeah, I heard all about you.”
Boyd scoffed and withdrew his offer of a handshake. “Whatever.”
Terry looked at the grave. “Is there something we can help you with, Mr. Pritchard? We’re mourning our loss right now.”
The old man crossed his hands with the Bible over his stomach. “Thought I’d offer to read a Psalm, ask a prayer for your comfort if you desire. Your pa was a right good man.”
“Are you some kind of a preacher?” Boyd shook his head in annoyance.
Pritchard coughed out a laugh. “No. I’m no kind of preacher. At least not the kind most churches would have. Most of ‘em’s got no tolerance for the truth. Better part of ‘em’s little more than country clubs with no liquor. Well, I guess some of ‘em’s got liquor by now. But I know the Word.” He nodded confidently.
Terry answered. “I’d appreciate that, Mr. Pritchard. My wife,” he paused. “Sam and Vicky’s mother, we lost her on the way out of the city. Things are bad in Atlanta.”
Harold Pritchard opened his Bible. “Unto thee, O Lord, do I lift up my soul. O my God, I trust in thee: let me not be ashamed, let not mine enemies triumph over me. Yea, let none that wait on thee be ashamed: let them be ashamed which transgress without cause. Shew me thy ways, O Lord; teach me thy paths. Lead me in thy truth, and teach me: for thou art the God of my salvation; on thee do I wait all the day. Remember, O Lord, thy tender mercies and thy lovingkindnesses; for they have been ever of old. Remember not the sins of my youth, nor my transgressions: according to thy mercy remember thou me for thy goodness' sake, O Lord. Good and upright is the Lord: therefore will he teach sinners in the way. The meek will he guide in judgment: and the meek will he teach his way.
All the paths of the Lord are mercy and truth unto such as keep his covenant and his testimonies. For thy name's sake, O Lord, pardon mine iniquity; for it is great. What man is he that feareth the Lord? Him shall he teach in the way that he shall choose. His soul shall dwell at ease; and his seed shall inherit the earth. The secret of the Lord is with them that fear him; and he will shew them his covenant. Mine eyes are ever toward the Lord; for he shall pluck my feet out of the net. Turn thee unto me, and have mercy upon me; for I am desolate and afflicted. The troubles of my heart are enlarged: O bring thou me out of my distresses. Look upon mine affliction and my pain; and forgive all my sins.”
Pritchard closed the Bible and bowed his head. “Lord comfort these children with your Holy Spirit. And as David has pleaded in this Psalm, forgive our sins, though they be many.”
Kate stood with her eyes closed and her head bowed. She waited for the man to finish. Several seconds passed and he was silent. She peeked with one eye to make sure he was still praying. She saw that he’d already cleared several yards on the way back to his home. She looked on curiously.
“Weird, huh?” Boyd commented.
“Creepy,” Tina added.
“It was a kind gesture, even if his social graces are less than refined.” Kate pulled Vicky close to her.
Terry nodded in agreement. His face showed his inner agony. He picked up the shovel to toss a scoop of dirt into the pit. He paused as if the task were too much for him to handle emotionally.
“Boyd and I will finish up.” Kate took the shovel.
Terry took several labored breaths and headed back to the house.
Vicky put her arm around her father and her head on his shoulder. “Are you coming, Sam?”
“Soon.” Sam took the shovel from Kate. “I want to be the one to do it.”
Kate relinquished the tool. “Okay. But I’ll be right here if you want me to take over.”
On the following morning, Kate and Sam headed out to see what other supplies they could secure. Their first stop was the local big-box home improvement store. When they arrived, other customers were in the store loading up on various items which might increase one’s odds of survival.
Kate took a flatbed cart. “Sam, you get a regular cart. And if someone gives us grief about wanting what we have, just let them have it. I’m not going to risk my life over anything in this store.”
“Okay.” Sam huffed to show his disagreement. “Should we get some gas cans? Fuel is already in short supply.”
Kate stopped short. “Good call. I didn’t even think of that.” She scanned the aisle labels suspended high above the end caps like street signs. “This way.”
They reached the aisle where gas cans had once been, but the shelves were empty. “We’re too late. What else could we put gas in?”
Sam shrugged and looked around.
Kate’s eyes scanned the aisle. “Come on. Let’s get that fencing material and the salt before it’s all gone.”
Sam followed close. “Grandpa left a bunch of tools in the garage, right? Do we have hammers, nails, screwdrivers, that sort of thing?”
“I haven’t inventoried it, but yeah, we’ve got a big box of tools down there.” Kate loaded a roll of chicken wire and a roll of welded-wire fencing onto the cart. Then, Sam assisted her in stacking forty green metal fence posts neatly onto the flatbed cart.
Kate paused to look at a stack of five-gallon utility buckets. “What about those? Think we could fill them with gas?”
“Then how would you get the gas into the tank?” Sam inquired.
“I’m sure we’ll figure something out. I’ll dip it out of the bucket and into a funnel with a coffee cup if I have to. The most important thing is getting gas while we still can.” Kate examined a stack of lids for the buckets.
“How many should we get?” Sam grabbed a pile and placed them on the flatbed cart.
“Let’s get ten.”
“I think you’ll incite a riot at the gas station if you try to fill up ten buckets full of gas.”
“You’re probably right. I’ll only fill two at a time.”
“Five trips to the gas station? Good luck with that. The lines are at least half an hour long. You’ll be all day. That is if there’s even any gas left by the time we get out of here.”
“It will be our next stop.” Kate wheeled the cart to the aisle where the salt was located.
Sam commented while standing in line, “I’m surprised how many of the people around here still use cash.”
Kate replied, “It’s keeping the local economy going while the big cities are completely shut down. But I’m afraid it won’t last long.”
After checking out, they loaded the supplies into the back of the Mini, then tried to find a gas station which was still open.
“There’s one!” Sam pointed at the long line of cars in queue for fuel.
She quickly changed lanes and joined the column of vehicles. Kate sighed at the thought of the arduous wait ahead. They inched forward and Kate wondered how much gas she was burning. She glanced over at her nephew. The inactivity was giving him time to miss his mother as evidenced by the sullen expression on his face. “Your father is very proud of you. And I’m sure Vicky is very grateful for all you are doing for them. Your mom would be happy to know that you’re stepping up.”
Sam turned to give Kate a contrived smile then, without speaking, turned to gaze glumly out the window once more.
Rather than force conversation, Kate purposed to let Sam grieve a while in silence. He needed it.
Finally, they reached the pump. “Sam, can you go pay?” Kate passed him a fifty-dollar bill.
Sam headed inside, and Kate got out to pump the gas. When she saw Sam leave the register, she began topping off her tank. Next, she pumped gas into one of the five-gallon buckets. Once filled, she signaled for Sam to place the lid on it while she moved to the next bucket.
The man in the vehicle behind her got out of his car. “Hey! What is this? You can’t put gas in buckets!”
She replied politely, “It’s for our truck. I wasn’t su
re it had enough gas to keep running while we waited in line.”
“I don’t care what it’s for. You can’t be hogging all the gas!” He signaled to the people in line behind him. “Are you all seeing this?”
Soon, more people got out of their cars. “Come on, lady!” Another man said.
“Leave some for the rest of us!” a woman yelled.
“Cap it off,” Kate put the pump handle back into its receptacle.
“We still have ten more dollars on the pump!” Sam protested.
“Doesn’t matter. Put the lid on and let’s go.”
Sam snapped the lid on the second bucket which was nearly full.
Kate could see the snarl growing on Sam’s face. “Come on, get in the car.”
Sam seemed reluctant to comply but did so anyway.
Kate sped out of the station.
“We can’t let people bully us, Aunt Kate.”
“We’re not, but we’re not going to get into a gunfight every time someone says a cross word to us. You’ve killed two people in two days. Your father doesn’t even know about the grocery store or I’m sure he wouldn’t have let you come today.”
“You’ve killed more people than I have.”
“That’s not the point. Everyone is on edge, and they’re allowing themselves to become animals. I don’t want to stand idly by and watch that happen to you. We’ll do what we have to do when we have to do it, but when we have the opportunity to walk away, we’re going to take it.”
Minutes later, Kate traversed the crooked little road up the mountainside to the cabin. Once there, she and Sam began to unload the supplies into the garage.
Sam hoisted one of the buckets of gasoline in the door of the garage. “I hear a vehicle coming up the road.”
Kate closed the garage door. “Let’s make sure they aren’t coming here. I don’t want to advertise what we have.”
A silver Subaru Outback pulled into the drive and the woman behind the steering wheel cut the ignition. Kate closed the hatch of her Mini.
A woman in her early sixties exited the Subaru. She carried a black folder, wore a burnt-orange long dress and flat-bottomed, open-toed shoes.
Kate’s curiosity bordered on confusion. She watched the woman fight to traverse the steep gravel drive in an attire that would have seemed out of place even in the best of times. And these were anything but the best of times.
“Hello, you must be the McCarthys.”
Kate fought to hide her bewilderment. With a half-smile, she said, “Yes, I’m Kate. This is my nephew, Sam.”
Terry walked out onto the porch but did not introduce himself.
The woman looked at him long enough to allow him the opportunity to give his name, however, he did not. With a nervous and tightly-wound grin, she said, “I’m Edith Ramsey, the president of the Apple Blossom Acres homeowner’s association. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve brought a copy of the covenants and restrictions for your review. There have been some complaints. It seems you’ve had a work truck parked on the property, which is in violation of your agreement.”
Edith looked into the back of Kate’s car. “Is that livestock fencing?”
“Um, I suppose it could be.” Kate took the black folder and opened it.
“Well, just as a courtesy, I’ll remind you that livestock isn’t allowed in Apple Blossom Acres.”
Kate’s brows slid nearer one another. “You mean like cows and pigs?”
“Anything. Rabbits, chickens, goats.” Her face contorted into a rigid saccharine smile.
“Mr. Pritchard has chickens.” Sam looked to the rickety old coop next door.
Edith’s expression soured, her mouth wrinkling like a prune. “Harold’s coop was here prior to the covenants being adopted. It’s grandfathered in.”
“The country is melting into chaos, Mrs. Ramsey. It’s hard to say how long it might last. Maybe we should consider relaxing the rules.” Kate tried to sound polite.
“Who complained?” Terry glared down from the porch with his arms crossed.
“That’s not important. What is important is that we maintain our community standards.” She turned to Kate. “And the country may very well be melting down, Ms. McCarthy. All the more reason for the neighborhood to be stalwart in keeping our goals toward excellence.”
Terry cut in again. “Only four other houses are further up than our cabin, and one of those is Mr. Pritchard’s. I can’t imagine that he complained. Maybe it was just some busybody who has nothing more to do than concern themselves with how other people live their lives.”
“This is a vacation home to you. I wouldn’t expect that you’d have the same level of commitment as those of us who live here year-round. Nevertheless, if the truck is still there tomorrow morning, the board will be forced to levy a fine against your property.”
Kate interjected in an attempt to bring the civility back to the conversation. “Wouldn’t it be better if the HOA suspended the restrictions until the crisis has passed? We left Atlanta and it was frightening. I think if the residents had an idea of what was going on, they might want to come together to make sure we all have food, water, and security. People are dying out there. Don’t think because Apple Blossom Acres is tucked away in the hills that we’re all immune from the mayhem. Maybe we could call a special meeting and the board could vote on relaxing some of the restrictions that could get in the way of our survival.”
“I think you’re overreacting because of what you’ve seen in Atlanta. That’s understandable, but there will be no special board meetings, and you’ll abide by the covenants. Good day, Ms. McCarthy.” Edith turned toward her vehicle.
“I’ll take it upon myself to see if there’s any interest among the residents in forming a block watch or a community garden.” Kate stood adamantly with her hands on her hips.
Edith whipped around with her finger pointed. “You’ll do no such thing. Polling residents is an official HOA duty.”
“Oh, nothing formal. Just me being neighborly. I’m sure there’s nothing in the covenants against that.”
“It could be interpreted as soliciting. That’s a finable offense.” Edith Ramsey stomped off to her Subaru.
“Then fine me!” The volume in Kate’s voice rose in defiance.
“Good job, Sis.” Terry was almost grinning. But sorrow quickly returned to his face and he went back inside the house.
Kate hated the situation. She looked between the tall tree trunks to see Harold Pritchard standing on his porch, observing the commotion. He was too far away to tell for sure, but Kate thought for a moment that the old curmudgeon might actually be chuckling at the scene. She muttered to herself, “I’ll start with him in canvassing the HOA for allies. I’m sure he’s no fan of the restrictions. He’ll know who will be sympathetic to our cause.”
CHAPTER 21
As it is written: “There is none righteous, no, not one.”
Romans 3:10
Friday morning, Kate walked outside onto the porch to find an empty bottle of vodka and an ashtray full of cigarette butts. Several more butts were strewn about the yard in the vicinity of the front porch. She gritted her teeth. “I knew this was going to be a problem. I guess no one gets to pick their family. You get the hand you’re dealt and you have to make the most of it.”
She was determined not to let this annoyance divert her from her mission. Kate marched across the most sparsely wooded section of the lot to Pritchard’s four-acre lot. She knocked on the door and waited. No answer came, so she knocked again. She felt nervous approaching a stranger’s house. They’d met and were neighbors, but she knew nothing about the man other than the fact that he was peculiar, so to her, he was still a stranger.
After waiting for what seemed like minutes, Kate felt awkward and wanted to leave. But the task at hand was important. Forming alliances in this new, hostile world could literally be the difference in life and death. Terry would be much better at this sort of thing, but it could be weeks before he felt up to soci
alizing. Sam and Vicky were too young. And Boyd, well, he was Boyd.
Kate took a deep breath and knocked again, this time more firmly.
Minutes later, Harold Pritchard came to the door. “What is it?”
“Mr. Pritchard, hi. I wanted to invite you over for coffee. If I’m not interrupting anything, of course.” Her smile quivered with anxiety.
“I was trying to watch the news. And I’ve already had coffee.”
Kate wanted to dismiss herself but held fast. “Oh, the news. It’s terrible isn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’m not watching it right now.” He began to close the door.
“I made cheese biscuits.” She felt ridiculous immediately after issuing her desperate plea.
Yet it caused Harold Pritchard to pause before slamming the door in her face. “Cheese biscuits?”
“Yeah, I mix shredded cheddar in the dough.”
“What kind of cheddar?”
“Um, Kraft, I think.”
“No, girl. I mean sharp, mild, what kind?”
“Extra sharp.”
“Why don’t you fetch them biscuits and come over here. You can watch the news with me if you like. I’ve got half a pot of coffee.”
“Okay then.” As quirky as the invitation was, Kate considered it a win. “I’ll be right back.”
She hurried back to the house to find Boyd and Tina sitting down at the table with bloodshot eyes, coffee, and a plate full of cheese biscuits. She snatched up the biscuits. “Make your own food…” She carried the plate with her. “After you clean up the mess on the porch and the cigarette butts in the yard.”
Kate rushed back to Mr. Pritchard’s door and rapped gently.
“Come on in the house,” he called.
Kate made her way to the living room where the elderly man sat in front of an old tube television set. The news portrayed footage of riots in Seattle.
“They’re a burnin’ down their own houses. It’d be one thing if they had somewheres else to go, but they ain’t.”
