by Ron Foster
David had had managed to keep his humanity somehow and he talked to these withered or skeletonized denizens of death like they were friends.
He thanked them for allowing him to pick through their possessions and wished them well in their afterlife.
These desiccated remains gave him cause for apprehension and he had been startled or down right scared speechless several times when he suddenly came upon a raggedly clad body sitting in a chair or on a couch holding a gun when he entered a darkened room looking for supplies.
However, living with and anticipating these horror shows was also part of the life of this particular apocalyptic survivor.
Generally speaking, poking about in these now abandoned homes produced nothing but apprehension and anxiety as well as a continuous bad case of the nerves.
The homes former tenants or their neighbors had normally consumed any vestige of food in the abodes long before their own personal demises.
Occasionally you got lucky and found a house that hadn’t already been looted or its occupant had never made it home to consume what can goods were left for whatever reason.
David never really expected to find any decent or wholesome food left in these gloomy places but he did check pantry’s as a matter of course.
He was usually hunting for or scavenging things like paper towels, toilet paper, fertilizer, candles, bug spray etc. to make daily life easier.
The abandoned houses were regarded as or just sort of treated as convenience stores for sundries because there was simply no other way to get supplies.
Trade goods sometimes came out of them, but there wasn’t really anyone to trade with except within his own community and their barter system was an invention of survival and need, versus possession of wealth or status goods.
Now times they were a changing once again and exchange currency mattered as well as ration tickets.
Problem with that was the government had the printing presses running once again and did a devaluing and recall on the old dollar and was now issuing government script as the basis of the new economy and trade.
Fine jewelry had no value but he suspected gold would be back in vogue eventually just like it had been an economic staple all throughout centuries of civilization.
Now that’s a funny word, civilization, I suppose one could define that concept many different ways. Needing money caused folks to do uncivilized things. I bet every grave robber in the county was going to be going back in those abandoned houses looking for green backs to trade in for a new kind of worthless paper backed by even more false promises.
Now how is that going to work anyway? David would have to talk to the Fema response leader Blake about that. When the poo hit the fan 10 years ago you were basically left with whatever you had in your pockets when it came to cash and no place to spend it.
There might be some computer system somewhere that kept up with all the billions of dollars folks lost but he doubted it, maybe they had some records, that is just for the banks benefit but they would swear all customer records were lost most likely.
The US and the rest of the world he was sure had long ago had bankrupted and reneged on any sovereign or national debts. It was all just much, too much, to think about right now. There ought to be some kind of limits on how much cash individual citizens could turn in for government script or lawlessness and greed will once again ensue.
That there was some kind of a grand plan for recovering financially from all of this, David was sure.
Many countries historically had been bankrupted after a war or an economic calamity and somehow life went on and people made it by somehow.
Confederate dollars anyone? David wished he knew some history lessons that could help him puzzle out how this recovery was going to occur but he put it out of his mind for now and went to take care of more mundane business.
Zealots And Such
Preacher John was the son of a Kudzu salesman. Just by being spawn of such he was declared a target and regarded by his school classmates to be righteously and unmercifully picked on as a child.
The problem with this was that daddy had tons of money he had made ripping off a three state area promoting Kudzu to the poor farmers.
This monetary advantage in life and the juvenile picking on from the less well off children had made the boy hard and bitter and he seemed to enjoy exercising his skin flint miserly ways by getting even in business and personal life with his former bullies while also trying to dissipate the remaining ghosts of his fathers past in business.
Now it seemed to David and others the conniving bastard was once again trying to promote a useless attempt by government to solve a problem by creating another one.
This wasn’t the worst of it by a long shot, as his Preacher John’s daddy had previously bought up all the old worthless Kudzu ravaged farms he had helped create and destroy for pennies on the dollar and had then managed to create vast wealth by selling them as commercial properties and home subdivisions once cleared of that tenacious weed.
Everyone said that sneaky bastard knew exactly where to plant that god-awful vine in order to do the most damage to some particularly promising development spots that the city planning commission would eventually have to expand too and purchase for top dollar.
Legend had it, that half of the railroad land leading to this town was once a kudzu trail that he and the Army corps of engineers had blazed between him and Chipley Florida where the whole fiasco had started out in a small plant nursery he had originally financed long ago.
Currently Preacher John `s latest dastardly deed was to use his churches flock of cult worshippers to signup to every new harebrained so called “progressive or deconstructionist’ agenda’ that was made available by the government..
“The local bar owner Suzie of the lounge called Ez-On_Inn, that David and Boudreaux liked to hang their hats at , had just remarked that “ol sonny boy” as she had nicknamed him from her schoolgirl days, was most likely trying to follow in daddies footsteps by doing some nefarious dealings and doings in controlling what choice properties remained under the governments new “Homestead and Reconstruction Act”.
LowBuck had been grinning like the cartoon Kool Aid man for the last several days as he and Boudreaux had beat the Preacher out of taking possession of a fine old grape vineyard by filing papers first on it and had been in today celebrating the finalization of their land and tax deed that gave them tentative possession.
“Everything would be pretty cool on those land deeds if they had not of put in the word “Tax” in those things.” David had remarked as he speculated on just what kind of taxes a bankrupt government planned on imposing on its bankrupt citizenry.
“I can tell you what kind of tax they thinking of!” Mole boy number one said as he entered the darkened lounge from the bright sunshine outside.
“I just got done putting my name in the pot for the upcoming election and Preacher John had that fat freckled faced bastard Jimmy Wells in there running for county and federal tax commissioner.
“Ah hell here we go! I Think that preacher man is about to out flank us and try to tax us out of business or buy our grape growing properties under a Sheriffs sale now.” David fumed.
“Hey me Boy-o! You ain`t on that winery deed and you dang sure ain`t supposed to be talking like that either.” Boudreaux exclaimed hushing David with his waggling finger.
David had been told by the Fed director for his area in no uncertain terms that being in his position with the Emergency Manager Disaster relief force meant that he absolutely, positively could not reveal any interest or any association what so ever with himself concerning this particular project.
“I know, I am sorry man, I got ahead of myself for the moment. Is that office of being a tax collector an appointed or an elected position?” David asked mole boy Claude.
“I am trying to find that out for myself. Jimmy caught me listening in on the meeting and shut the door before I could hear anymore.” Claude declared looking at
the Bar Maids for some insight or help in puzzling out what was going on.
“Don’t look at me son, I don’t know nothing about no politics and I like it that way.” Flo said fixing David and crew another drink.
“I know you boys are drinking your liquor and celebrating getting that land and all, but you might want to change the conversation to fishing or something different because I see that snitch of a hop toad Purvis heading this way with his listening ears on.” The matriarch Suzi said pointing at a greasy and torn pair of shuffling blue gray overalls that was observed peeking in the window previously and was now entering her establishment.
“Damn it Purvis what are you up to today? We should have drowned you when we had the chance back at the lake.” Boudreaux exclaimed and his steely eyes blazed momentarily until a discreet tap on his leg by Dave reminded him to just study the back of the bar and ignore the low life snoops presence.
Purvis had been one of the survivors that used to have inhabited David’s “Our End of the Lake” community and yet had been disliked by all for many years as the outcast he needed to be for all his unhygienic ways as well as a propensity for things to come up missing or broken when he was about.
A couple times a year, both as a tradition and a necessity Mr. LowBuck or Mr. Boudreaux would forcibly throw Purvis in the lake for a well needed bath.
David had also assisted in the task of keeping him from getting too ripe by accidentally knocking him off the dock or craftily assisting him in falling overboard if he got stuck fishing with Purvis in the same boat. He called it his “opps” factor, but no matter what you called it, somebody was going swimming.
“Now boys, no hard feelings now, didn’t mean to interrupt none. I will just sit right over here by myself. Don’t worry, I ain`t here to be spying on ya or fulfilling any of my legal duties for the census bureau today. I just wanted to have me a drink or two in the shade and I will be moving on soon enough and be out of your way.” Purvis said meekly remembering to stay out of reach and smelling range from the gathered group who was strongly considering if dropping the miscreant in the horse trough that served as a men’s urinal in the bathroom would have any effect on his attitude or smell.
Purvis would take a bath on his own occasionally, but that was only if you heated and collected the water for him and he himself personally had somehow decided that the stars and moon were arranged correctly for him to perform his absolutions as he like to call them and get cleaned up.
Boudreaux still wanted us to take him to the vet for a shot because anyone that avoided water like Purvis did must be suffering from Hydrophobia or rabies he figured.
Purvis was not by a long shot a welcome sight in the “ EZ-On-Inn” bar, but with the times as they are, unless it was something truly bad a person did, nobody got barred.
Pretty much the only reason he didn’t get evicted was because government employees were about all we had as paying customers and they had great sway in how the business operated financially.
It was “barmaid Flo” that pointed out that Purvis in the times before the great solar storm put an end to court proceedings was suspected of the high crime and treasonable act of turning in moon shiners and marijuana growers for pay.
The problem originated because he had put the initials P.J. as the unidentified informant on a warrant that was served and admitted into court for her to appear in one of these matters.
The warrant was issued based on information by a so called PJ which she was sure stood for Purvis Jenkins. The alleged charges were dismissed and the storm had also stopped any further court action, but not her contempt or assuredness PJ was one in the same as that pile of dung residing on the far bar stool in front of her.
“Gimme a whiskey and some branch water please.” Purvis said opening up a old moth eaten change purse you could swear you saw a housefly fly out of when he unclasped it.
“In a minute Purvis, I am busy at the moment: She told him and then leaned down and whispered to LowBuck that she wished she had a tallywhacker like us men folk did to freshen up and stir his drink with.
Lowbuck about laughed himself to death and then grinned evilly at Purvis as Flo mixed his drink as slowly as possible and kept an eye on it hoping the boys in David’s crew were out of hot sauce and meanness for today but might look the other way out of spite.
“ Purvis, our little community took more than decent care of you for nigh over 5 years” David began as he moved one chair over from Purvis and suppressed his involuntary retching action as the funk from the man came to his nostrils.
“So what! I done my share of helping you all with chores and things, why are you always picking at me David? What is it you want? I told you I wouldn’t say nothing to the census bureau on our numbers at the lake unless that is, if they came forward like you all have and demanded something be answered or accounted for.” Purvis said warily.
“Dang right!” Boudreaux said fingering his ever present giant bowie knife.
“See that’s just what I mean. Seems like a peaceful body can’t even have him a drink unless that furry ox of yours LowBuck or that crazy backwoods Cajun has something to say about it.” Purvis said making sure he had a clear path of an unobstructed retreat to the door if it was needed or warranted.
“Them boys ain`t going to bother you none at all Purvis as long as your behaving and not up to any government mischief, we got us a deal we already agreed upon.” David said not too sure about the statement as LowBuck and Boudreaux started up a conversation about alligator hunting which usually ended up with the threat of them to tie a rope around Purvis’s waist and through him in the bayou for alligator bait.
“So what is it that you got on your mind David? I got to get back to my work soon.” Purvis said while still eying everyone warily and glancing about abxiously.
“You see Purvis it’s kind of like this, regardless of our personal differences you are part of our little community and just the action by you moving from the lake to the city don’t change none of that at all.” David began before Boudreaux mumbled something about burning Purvis’s house down as soon as he got back to the lake and putting and end to the bad vapors and bugs around it.
“You rein in that crazy old pirogue pusher Cajun iDavid or we end this little conversation right now!” Purvis whined half heartedly peeking around David’s shoulder as LowBuck decided it was time to show his crazy forked beard biker look to the mirror and shared it to who ever was in need of a fright or a hiccup scare.
“Purvis, you are going to be our own private snitch and nobody else’s. Do we understand each other?” David said giving him his own thousand yard threatening stare.
“What? Who? Hell I don’t know!” Purvis began spluttering while looking even more anxious.
“He means snitches get stitches you shady two tongued devil” Barmaid Flo said waving an ice scoop at him.
“I know you ain`t the best of men Purvis to put it mildly, but I think you got enough walking around sense to know which side of the bread you can get buttered on so listen up to me and be giving me your handshake in agreement shortly. Basically speaking we got two forces here in this town. That shall we say politley. Have undeniable differences of opinion and I know where you live at if you are on the wrong side so you should listen harder to me.” David said calmly but with a very implied threat that he had seen Purvis thinking about maybe escaping out the door.
“I am listening, but the pay got to be good.” The wormy old Purvis declared thinking he had some kind of bargaining power left.
“Oh, I will pay you all right, should be knots on your noggin but you are lucky today that I am not charging you protection money to keep all these folks that are looking for pay back off your ass.”” David said smirking at him.
“How much you willing to pay me? Cash or barter? And for that matter for doing what?” Purvis said putting up a false brave front.
