by Ison, S. A.
“With the food you just bought, as well as what we have in the cupboards and in the basement and root cellar, we have a hell of a lot of food. Marilyn and I will make up a menu so no food is wasted. We plan to supplement meals with what is starting to ripen from the garden,” Willene said. She kicked at a dirt clod, then smoothed the ground with her foot.
“Good. We really don’t want any waste. We can no longer afford it. Hopefully with the eggs and game we can hunt, we’ll have plenty of protein. We are going to need it for a good calorie intake.” He bent over and plucked the stem of a long blade of grass and stuck it in his mouth and chewed the sweet blade.
They arrived back at the garden near the house. She could see Marilyn and Monroe in the garden. She smiled and punched Harry’s arm and headed toward Marilyn, “I’ll talk to you later Harry, I’m going to help Marilyn with the weeding.”
“Okay, I’ll go find Earl, work on the blind. See you later Willy.”
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Earl stood looking out over the valley. The old farmhouse provided a terrific panoramic view. He took a long drag off his cigarette, letting the acrid smoke fill his lungs. He squinted, the lines carving deep in his face, as the smoke rose and stung his eyes. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to clear his vision. A long stream of smoke exited his nostrils as he shifted his weight off the prosthetic leg. His mining career had been cut short, and during his long convalescence his wife had left him. He wondered where she was now.
Barbara had said she wasn’t the nurturing type, that being around him and his moods was a real downer, so she’d taken most of their possessions and left. That was ten years ago, and he’d been left to rebuild his life. He’d put himself through a trade school and learned how to fix cars via the mining company’s dime.
Earl ran his hand through his thinning hair and blew a long breath, trying to rid himself of memories of her. It didn’t work, and that long-ago hurt rose in his chest. When he’d been at his most vulnerable, she’d left him. He’d tried to feel hard at her, but it wasn’t in his nature.
Since Barbara’s departure, life had been lonely, and try as he might, Earl just couldn’t seem to meet anyone new. There weren’t a lot of new women coming to Beattyville. Now the world had come to an end and the chances of him meeting a good woman were even worse than before.
He laughed silently to himself and guessed an apocalypse wasn’t the best time to date. He shifted once more. He finished his cigarette and went to the edge of the porch and, putting the butt into a can that had dirt in it, ground the cigarette out. They didn’t need the house burning down because of a stupid accident.
He was going to miss his cigarettes; he didn’t have many left. If the apocalypse didn’t kill him, maybe lung cancer wouldn’t either.
He sighed heavily and figured he’d get started on the road blind. He left the porch and wandered out toward the barn, pausing at the well to drink from the bucket of water that sat on the lip. It was cold and crisp and sweet, and he dipped for another drink.
Lifting up the lid, he peered down into the well; it was dark and deep. He closed the lid again, ensuring the top of the well was covered. He’d make sure to tell Monroe to stay away from the well; he didn’t want the boy playing around it and falling in.
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Clay awoke to the bombastic chorus of the enthusiastic birds, and the distant barking and baying of a coon hound. He brought his hand up to his face and rubbed it hard, soft rasping coming from his unshaven face. The couch had been lumpy and smelled of old man farts.
He was too tall to lie comfortably on the couch, so had had to sleep curled on his side. He could feel his bones and muscles screaming at him in protest. He gritted his teeth and sat up. Brian opened one eye and looked at him, then closed it, sighing heavily.
Pops was in the kitchen, the heavy fug of coffee permeating the living room. Clay got up and walked through to the kitchen. An old silver coffee pot sat on the stove, perking away. The old man was also frying up bacon and eggs.
“Have a sit, son, breakbrest is almost done,” Pops said, pointing the spatula to the kitchen chair.
“Thanks Pops,” Clay said, pulling out the chair and sitting down. He took the proffered coffee cup. He added sugar from an old, chipped sugar bowl. The faded mushrooms that decorated the bowl were nearly worn away.
Looking around, he didn’t see any creamer, and was sure that if there was anything in the refrigerator, it had long since gone bad. He’d just drink it sweet, and after the first sip, his body began to forgive him for the uncomfortable night.
“Power taint turn back on. Guess you’uns all have ta walk the rest of the way ta town. I got some old sneakers you’uns could war, they was my grandson’s. He ain’t not round no more. Went live in Calaforna,” Pops said, sliding a plate of eggs and bacon in front of Clay.
“Thanks, Pops, that will help. We’re still a long way from town,” Clay said, giving Brian a strip of bacon. He pulled a piece of bread from the plate in front of him. His eggs were a little runny, and so he dipped the bread into the egg yoke and took a bite. It was good; he’d not realized just how hungry he was.
Pops sat down beside Clay at the table and clapped his hands and bent his fuzzed gray head. His mouth moved in silent prayer, then he began to eat his eggs. He then poured some of his coffee into a saucer and sipped at it. Clay’s own grandfather used to drink his coffee like that. Clay hid a grin behind a forkful of eggs.
The men sat quietly as they ate their breakfast. Clay sipped the coffee and enjoyed the quiet; it was going to be another long day. He knew he needed the calories, so wasn’t shy about grabbing another piece of bread. He grinned at Pops, and the old man returned the smile with a gummy grin.
CHAPTER TEN
Walking on toward the barn, Earl’s eyes scanned the tree line. All was quiet. He could hear squirrels running through the woodland, and the birds calling as they hopped from branch to branch. It was peaceful, and didn’t really feel like the end of the world. He had such a pull to go back into town and look around, to confirm to himself that yes, the world had come to a halt.
Walking into the barn, he saw several loose boards leaning against a wall. He located a saw, a hammer, and a can of nails that was sitting on a work bench. There were several empty stalls. He figured they’d held horses or some kind of livestock years ago.
Many properties had barns; he thought there was a dairy farm down the hill a few miles away that had one. This barn had been well maintained. He knew it took a lot of upkeep to keep these old barns standing. There were numerous caved-in barns dotting the mountains. The weather was hard on them. Especially winters with heavy snows.
Gathering up what he needed, he walked down the hill toward the road. Once there, he proceeded to build a barricade frame. Then he took the saw and cut down saplings of all sizes and attached them to the framework. As he worked, he looked up, catching Harry coming toward him. Harry was carrying a shovel.
“Mornin’ Harry. Didja git any rest?” Earl asked, pausing to wipe the sweat from his brow with a faded blue bandana. Harry was tall and well-formed, and seemed strong and confident. Earl wished once more that he’d gone into the army with Harry. He’d probably still have his leg and most of his teeth. The coal mine had taken a lot from him.
“Yeah, though I can’t say it was very restful,” Harry said, his smile not reflecting in his eyes. “That the blind we spoke about last night?”
“Sure is, an’ looks like you’uns thinkin’ ’long same line ta put live saplin’s an’ turf round so thar is greenery an’ taint too many dead plants,” Earl said.
Harry grinned widely, saluted with the shovel, and walked toward a likely sapling. It took the men several hours. When they were done, both men backed up along the road and looked back at their handiwork.
It wasn’t perfect, but under light scrutiny, it would pass. At night, the drive would be completely obscured. It was due to rain later, Earl could smell it. That would help with the newly-planted saplings and clumps
of weeds and grasses.
The large black walnut trees, and the apple trees up the hill, obscured the farmhouse. Farther up the road, however, the farmhouse could be seen. There wasn’t much they could do about that, but there was no visible access, at least in dim light.
Earl looked at the house and then the road, and back at the blind. “It taint perfect, but iffin someone is walkin’, they maybe might pass by, in a car a fer peace away, not so sure, but iffin they don’t not see an entrance, they maybe might keep goin’.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for. It also might give us a few minutes to get into place to defend the house,” Harry said.
“You’uns sure you don’t want ta go inta town. We dasn’t know what’s goin’ on?” Earl asked, feeling the itch to know intensify. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, letting the nicotine calm his nerves. He didn’t know why he wanted to go to town so very badly it was starting to crawl under his skin.
“I can’t stop you from going, Earl, nor would I try, but I know people under stress and duress. I think it will be dangerous. If you feel the need to go, then do, but if you aren’t back by dark, I’ll come looking for you,” Harry answered.
“I just gotta know, Harry, I just gotta do this,” Earl said.
“I understand. I also feel that need, that determination to go in to town to see what is happening. But I know from experience that all hell will be breaking loose as people begin to realize there is no help coming. It may not be as bad as I think, I just don’t know. It may take a few more days. Again, I just don’t know,” Harry said helplessly, shrugging his shoulders.
“I knowed I shunt go, but I’s feel my hair crawlin’ like I gots ants crawlin’ in it,” Earl said, his shoulder shrugging up to his ears. He could feel his face burning red, the heat of it crept up his chest and onto his cheeks and ears.
Harry reached over and patted Earl on the back. Earl looked over and grinned. He shrugged again and laughed. Together, the men walked back up to the house and watched as Monroe and Charley played up ahead of them. The sun was up high and had burned off the early morning haze, but the smell of rain was heavy in the air. In the far distance, gray clouds were gathering.
“It’s peaceful here, Harry. Are you sure you want all of us here underfoot?” Earl asked, his gray eyes troubled.
“Earl, I would never have invited you here if I’d not wanted you here. You’re a good man, and we will need all the good people here, watching each other’s backs. We also need good hunters, and you and Boggy are good men with rifles and, from what I hear, good shots. We’ll need that when people start heading our way,” Harry said, slapping Earl on the back.
“I’ll be as much help as I kin. I ain’t wanna bea burden an’ Boggy neither. I’ll make sure you’uns and your’un sister won’t never regret it,” Earl assured him.
“We have the high ground. Just hoping we can hold it. I think if we can fortify this place, it will go a long way to keeping us protected. That and constant vigil,” Harry said.
“I ’spect we keep on our toes, we’ll be right as rain. I’m gonna skedaddle out ta town,” Earl said.
“Okay, just keep on your toes, and if you aren’t back by dark, I’ll come looking,” Harry said and headed into the house.
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The LED headlamp waivered in the dark recesses of the basement. Harry looked around the cluttered shelves, seeing things from his childhood, and smiled. His grandfather threw out nothing, it seemed. He took note of the shelves with jars and jars of preserved foods of all kinds. Stepping closer, he picked up a quart and dusted off the label, which said the contents was cubed beef. Placing it back, he picked up another, smaller, jar. The contents were white and he read “Shortening” on the label. He replaced the small jar back to the shelf.
Turning, he saw several large boxes stacked neatly to one side. Going over, he opened the top one and saw packages of toilet paper. Harry shook his head. His grandfather had thought of everything. Other boxes were scattered around the large basement, many dusty and untouched for what seemed like years.
One shelf held large cans of coffee, and the grin on his face spread to his eyes. Coffee, the elixir of life. They’d have to meter this stuff out carefully, but at least they had it. Thank you so much, Peapot, he thought once more. He had a feeling he was going to be thanking his grandfather over and over in the weeks and months ahead of them. This was more than he could have ever hoped for and smiled, thinking of Peapot, giggling while he did all this.
Walking around other boxes and what-nots, he went to the gun safe. Adjusting the headlamp, he bent at the waist and dialed in the combination. The gears moved smoothly for such an old safe. He opened the large door and looked at the armament within. Neatly stacked inside was a Remington AR15 along with numerous boxes of appropriate ammo, .223 shells, his grandfather’s Marlin, and a couple new rifles: an M48 Patriot and Weatherby Vanguard. There were handguns on pegs: a Beretta M9, a Sig Sauer MK25, and a Springfield XD. He laughed out loud. They were certainly well armed.
Along with the weapons were boxes and boxes of ammunition for each one. He was glad their grandfather had chosen weapons Willy would be able to use. He was sure she’d like the AR15. The scent of gun oil filled his nostrils, and he knew his grandfather had kept all the weapons in prime condition.
He looked around under the long counter beside the gun safe and saw several crates labeled ammo. So there was even more. They wouldn’t have to worry about running out of ammo any time soon. Once more he marveled at his grandfather’s forethought.
They couldn’t afford to waste the ammo, but it should last them. He’d move some of this to the cave. Having all this in the house, and in one location, was dangerous. He would put the bulk away from the house. Perhaps hide some in the barn for ready access.
He thought about what his grandfather had said about his mother. Once more the goosebumps rose on his arms. Had his grandfather merely been delusional? But he had known about Franziska, and Harry knew he had spoken of her to no one. And could it have been a coronal event that had caused the EMP? If so, there was no need to worry about nuclear fallout except for the areas around nuclear power plants.
He began up the stairs into the house, thoughts circling in his mind. Closing the door to the basement, he heard Willene in the kitchen; it sounded as though she were crying. He walked in and saw both Willy and Marilyn holding hands, weeping. Alarm rang in his head like an old fashion fire bell.
“What’s the matter?”
Both women look up to him.
“Peapot’s gone,” Willene said, softly weeping. “He passed away some time this morning. I thought he was napping, and when I went in to check on him, he was gone.”
Harry’s legs gave out and he sat heavily in a chair, his eyes tearing up. Willy and Marilyn began to blur in front of him. Willy got up and Harry pulled her into his arms to hold her shaking form. He tried to clear the tears from his throat. “He lived a damn good life Willy, and he prepared us for this nightmare,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
“I know, and he was so happy this morning, I think he knew he was about to go,” Willene said, wiping the tears from her eyes.
“Yeah. I heard him talking to himself and laughing when I went past his room this morning. I’m not sure who he was talking to, but he was happy,” Harry said, a soft smile pulling at his lips.
“When I tried to feed him this morning, he said he wasn’t hungry. He laughed and joked with me,” Marilyn said.
“I’ll go up and say my goodbyes, and then I’ll go up to the back near the woods and start a grave,” Harry said, giving his sister a quick squeeze before leaving the kitchen. His legs felt like lead as he mounted the stairs. He could feel the pieces of his heart breaking. His grandfather had been his world for as long as he could remember.
Stepping into the room, his eyes went to the bed. Tears began to slide down his stubbled cheeks. He swiped at them with a hand as he walked over to the bed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Har
ry took his grandfather’s hand in his. It seemed so very small and fragile.
His grandfather looked peaceful, the small smile creasing the old wrinkled face. Harry leaned over and kissed his grandfather on his head fuzz.
“God bless you, Peapot. Thank you for all you’ve done for Willy and me. Thank you for loving us and raising us. Thank you for saving us from this disaster, I don’t know how we would have faced it without you,” he said, his hand smoothing back the sparse hair on his grandfather’s head.
“Thank you, Peapot, for teaching me how to be a man. I can’t remember if I ever thanked you. I should have. Sorry if I didn’t. Give mom my love when you see her.”
Harry got up from the bed and went to the window. He looked out over to the far mountains. The clouds were moving slowly toward them. Several hawks were flying in the sky, and he smiled. His ancestors thought that hawks were messengers to the spirit world. Maybe they were warning them that his grandfather was coming.
Harry grinned at the thought; his grandfather had always been a lively and mischievous man. Willy took after him. He was sure his grandfather would remain so in the next life.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Earl slowly drove around stalled vehicles, his truck rattling and squealing as it climbed the hills around town, making his way toward his trailer. Familiar faces stood on corners, watching him. The hair all over his body rose. Each of them had the deer in the headlights look, their mouths hanging open as they stared at him.
It was a peculiar. Why, after only one day, would they be acting like this? It was like they didn’t know what a truck was, or what to do with themselves. They stood in clusters, nudging at each other and pointing at him.
He drove a little faster, looking away. He passed by the Lazy J bar; men stood around outside the door, drinking beer. It was early, yet they looked as though they’d been drinking all night. One raised his beer in salute to Earl and nodded. Earl returned the nod and continued on down the street.
