by Bobby Akart
A paramedic emerged from the ambulance. “Chet, what do we have here?” he asked the lead officer.
“He’s either a liar or delusional.”
“We still need to treat him whether you plan on taking him in or not.”
Levi found an ally. “Yes, please, Officer. Take me to a hospital and patch me up. I don’t care if you have to handcuff me to a gurney. Just stop this bleeding.”
“Hospital’s closed,” he replied curtly.
“What?” Levi was confused. He looked from the officer back to the paramedic. “Why is everything closed?”
“See? Delusional.” The officer turned to walk away and gave his instructions to his partner. “We can’t feed him anyway. Watch him close while they address his wounds. Confiscate his weapons and then drive him out of town.”
“Wait! Can’t you let me call my family or at least take me to a bus station or something?”
The lead officer swung around and stormed toward Levi. “Young man, where have you been the last week?”
“I told you. We hired a charter in Thunder Bay to fly us to Smoky Falls. We hit a bad snowstorm, and the pilot was way off course. We crashed up north of here in the middle of nowhere.”
“Well, everything is the middle of nowhere now. You an American?”
“Yes, sir. From Indiana.”
“Well, your brilliant president decided to cut off all the power, and unfortunately, that meant Canada’s, too.” He pointed at the paramedic as he walked off. He spoke over his shoulder. “You’re lucky we have him to fix you up.”
For the second time in the span of an hour, Levi intentionally squeezed his injured leg to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
Chapter 10
Riverfront Farms
Southeast Indiana
“Everybody dig in,” Sarah lovingly ordered as she and Carly set the food on the table. They’d fired up the old cast-iron stove, which sat in the corner of the kitchen. It was customarily used to build fires in the winter when Sarah was in the mood for nostalgic ambience. Now, with the cooktop that heated up once the firebox was full of hot coals, she used it for cooking. “We’ve got corn bread, eggs, flour gravy, and cured ham. Please, let Isabella go first. This is probably her first country meal.”
Isabella was handed the bowl of scrambled eggs and put a small scoop on her plate. “It smells heavenly, Sarah. I wish I could have helped you and Carly.”
“Next time, dear. This morning, you are our guest. After breakfast when the adults gather together, you will officially become part of the family.”
“That’s right, Miss Isabella,” said Rachel. “You’ll get chores like me and Jesse.”
Isabella laughed. “Okay. I am ready for some chores.”
The Boone family enjoyed their breakfast, and their mood was upbeat as they made small talk about Chapman’s travels from Seattle to Greenland to Paris. Everyone enjoyed Isabella’s contribution, in which she relayed a little bit about her family and what life in Paris was like.
After breakfast, the kids were sent outside to tidy up the barn, and the adults gathered in the living room, where they got down to business. Before Sarah took the floor, Squire and Chapman followed through with their plan concocted the night before.
Essentially, the two men were successful in telling half-truths about what their opinions were of Kristi’s and Levi’s whereabouts. The family raised the issue of sending Chapman to Chicago to look for his sister, and to be fair to Carly’s emotional state, he offered to travel to Canada as well. In the end, they all agreed it would be an impossible task fraught with danger, and most likely would be unsuccessful anyway.
They then turned their attention to Riverfront Farms. Everything was discussed from how to continue the orchard operation down to day-to-day activities centered around food preservation, maintaining their wells, and protecting themselves as well as the farmhands who lived on their property.
Families of the workers had been provided small homes on the Boones’ farm since the 1800s. In the early years, they worked for half the harvest. As Riverfront Farms grew to a larger commercial operation, the Boones transitioned from a nineteenth-century barter system to a hybrid arrangement, which provided the families half of the crops and monetary payment for their work in the orchards.
Sarah, who was the family’s de facto director of operations, had the floor most of the time. “We have to trust God to deliver Kristi and Levi back to us. Until they come home, we need to make sure we take care of the farm and everyone who lives on it. Chapman, I need you and Isabella to be completely honest with us. How long do you think this will last?”
“Mom, here’s the thing,” began Chapman. “I could go back decades and repeat all the dire predictions you’ve heard in the media warning of a variety of impending disasters—famine, drought, an ice age, and even whole species disappearing.”
“We certainly know what a drought looks like, right, honey?” interjected Squire.
“We sure do,” replied Sarah. “Son, is this pole shift the cause of the drought?”
“It’s very likely, Mom. My coworkers at The Weather Channel coined the phrase the Second Dust Bowl. Really, it was more like a flash drought. The same thing happened in the Southeast a decade ago, so what you’ve been experiencing could’ve been seen by meteorologists as normal weather patterns.”
“I remember that, son,” added Squire. “Everything suffered, from cattle to cotton to corn. We benefitted because corn prices skyrocketed.”
Chapman nodded. “I was chasing extreme tornadic activity in the Texas Panhandle stretching into Dixie Alley at the time. It took a major hurricane to clear out the dome of high pressure that camped out over the southeast. What you guys have experienced is far different and more like the Dust Bowl conditions of the 1930s.”
Isabella joined the conversation. “At the Institute in Paris, several geologists believed volcano activity added to the Dust Bowl conditions. There were two major volcanic eruptions in the North Pacific in 1931. One was in America’s Aleutian Islands, and the other was in Russia. These were both VEI fours.”
Squire appeared puzzled.
“Dad, VEI stands for volcanic explosivity index. A four is significant, but nothing like Yellowstone, which has erupted as an eight on three occasions.”
“Chapman is correct. The combination of these two volcanic eruptions were not enough to destroy the planet’s atmosphere, but they did cause water temperatures in the Pacific Ocean to cool considerably for several years. At the same time, warmer than normal temperatures existed in the Atlantic Ocean, creating large-scale shifts in weather patterns and low-level winds. This reduced the moisture in the air and generated the drought conditions.”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” quipped Chapman, who reached out to give Isabella a high five.
“But have there been any volcanoes erupting lately?” Carly asked a logical question.
Chapman nodded to Isabella for her to continue. “No, but there has probably been a change in water temperatures. Except, perhaps, the opposite of what you might think. The Atlantic Ocean will become cooler as the North Pole continues to move across Russia toward the Middle East. Naturally, the Pacific Ocean will grow warmer as its climate becomes more like the equatorial regions. Similar to the 1930s, this opposite effect in the ocean’s water temperature has resulted in flash droughts in America.”
Squire grimaced. “Great, when does it end?”
Chapman tried to provide his father a reassuring smile. “Dad, it’s hard to predict, and what’s worse, the nation’s brightest meteorologists and climatologists are now going to be hamstrung by the lack of electricity. Predictive models require communications, computers, and data, not to mention people to analyze it all.”
“It sounds to me like we have to be able to react to the changes and not really plan on a particular outcome,” added Sarah.
“Exactly, Mom,” said Chapman. He glanced at Isabella. “To address your question of when this might
end, it’s likewise impossible to predict. I think we need to be mentally prepared to live like this for many months and maybe even years.”
The mood of the group crashed, and Chapman immediately chastised himself for being so overly pessimistic. He really didn’t have an answer, and it wasn’t necessary to put a damper on the entire discussion.
Isabella, who’d been studying everyone’s reactions to the conversation, immediately picked up on the change. “I do believe, however, that the pole shift has occurred so suddenly, so rapidly, that it may not take as long as past history has shown. I believe that Chapman was trying not to be overly optimistic.”
“Um, that’s right. Sometimes, I have a hard time taking off my television meteorologist’s hat. You know how it is. They want me to make good TV.”
Sarah managed a smile and squeezed her middle child’s hand. She seemed to appreciate the efforts of Chapman and Isabella. She opened up one of her notebooks and thumbed through the tabs she’d created with Carly’s assistance.
“We have enough food to feed all of us, Kristi and Levi through December. In the coming weeks, we will have an abundance of corn and apples. Our biggest challenge will be meat and fish. We approached our shopping by focusing on the basic food groups and whether the packaging was nonperishable.”
“They did a great job, son,” added Squire. “Water levels have been low in the river this summer, but the fish are still there. That’s one resource. Also, with the drought, hogs and deer have been coming out of the state park, looking for water. We all know how to hunt, field dress, and store the meat. Levi’s our best, but it might be a good idea to start hunting right away.”
“Agreed,” said Chapman. “What about the apples and, um, who do we sell them to?”
Squire responded quickly, “We harvest them as always. I’ve already met with our farmhands, and everyone understands the situation. Obviously, there won’t be a commercial market for our harvest, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t valuable.”
“To somebody, I guess,” added Chapman.
“Well, son, yes. First, your mom has all kinds of recipes that can be used by us and the farmhands to provide our bodies sustenance. They’re full of fiber, potassium, antioxidants, and vitamin C.”
“Dad, even with canning and recipes, you’re gonna have a ton left over. We don’t have enough hogs or horses to feed them to.”
“I have an idea, and this relates to our security as well,” Squire said as he took the floor. “We all know that Sheriff Clark will stay close to home in Corydon. I’d be shocked if he even bothers to send deputies down this way on patrol. We, and all the other farms around New Amsterdam and along the river, will have to protect ourselves.
“With this power outage, and especially if it’s going to be for a long time as you suggest, our world has just become a lot smaller. It used to be that a ride up to Indianapolis or over to Louisville was a day trip. Now it would take several days, if not a week. Heck, thirty minutes to Corydon might take a day, you know, there and back.”
“What are you thinking?” asked Chapman.
“I think we need to gather all the local farmers and residents for a town hall meeting of some kind in New Amsterdam. It’s centrally located between our farms and those along the Ohio to the east. Think about it. We have apples and corn. Most of the ranches on the other side of town raise livestock, from cows to hogs. There’s a poultry farm halfway between here and Corydon. And all of us grow our own food.”
Sarah chimed in, “Growin’ your own food is like growin’ your own money, right, dear?”
“You betcha.”
Chapman was warming to the idea. “Are you thinking about everyone sharing with one another?”
“Well, not necessarily sharing, although as Christians we do believe in providing folks in need a hand up,” replied Sarah. “No, Squire and I were thinking of setting up an exchange. A market, you know, like the old days.”
“A bushel of apples for a couple of laying hens,” Squire explained. “Ten gallons of gasoline for a calf. Stuff like that.”
“Barter,” muttered Chapman.
Isabella sat forward in her chair. “This still happens in France. In the countryside. Open-air markets operate to trade flowers, food, animals, and even linens. Everything has a value based upon the trading. It is enjoyable to attend.”
Squire smiled. “Yes. Prices are determined by supply and demand. But there’ll be more to be discussed. I want to believe that everyone will behave themselves as we help one another through this. However, I’m realistic. There’ll be those who are desperate for food or supplies. Also, we have to protect our farm and then be able to warn others around us about any threats.”
Chapman stood and smiled at his parents. “I think you two are brilliant. I’ve been away too long to think the way you do. Let’s get our neighbors together as soon as possible.”
Chapter 11
Tommy Bannon’s Residence
North Michigan Avenue
Chicago, Illinois
During the night, Kristi and Tommy forgot the apocalyptic world outside his bedroom. They comforted each other and then slept for hours, well past the eight o’clock deadline set by the association to turn over their food, not that it mattered. The two were confident in their plan, and a good night’s rest was important before they drove the three hundred miles from Chicago to Riverfront Farms.
Kristi was the first to awaken, and she took a moment to admire her new boyfriend. She smiled and laughed to herself as she thought about how quickly their relationship had changed. In a way, she’d hoped for them to get together. Tommy was handsome and a gentleman. And she missed the touch of a man. Although he had a way of dismantling her rugged exterior, she also drew strength from him, as she’d found a partner she could trust and rely upon.
Her thoughts were interrupted by incessant knocking on the door. Once again, the pounding was reminiscent of a SWAT team threatening to break the door open if the homeowner didn’t open it voluntarily. Kristi wondered if this situation was really that different.
She grabbed her handgun and quickly pulled a tee shirt over her head. She shook Tommy’s leg. “Hey, wake up. They’re back.”
Startled, he scrambled to pull on a pair of boxer shorts and hustled to catch up to her. Kristi pressed her back against the wall and held the gun on the door. Tommy frowned and gave her a look.
She whispered to him in an eerily cold tone of voice, “You can open it if you want. If they break it open, they’re intruding, and I’m in fear for my life.”
Tommy’s eyes grew wide and he shook his head violently from side to side. He leaned forward to look through the peephole. Just as his eye reached the door, the pounding began again, but much harder this time. The door was pressed inward slightly, causing it to bump his head.
“What?” he asked brusquely.
“You missed the deadline, Bannon! We’re here to conduct our inspection and pick up your food.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Tommy shot back. “We’re leaving.” As soon as he said it, he produced a pronounced grimace and feigned beating his head against the doorjamb.
“Who’s we? Our records show you’re the only occupant.”
“I have a pet,” he said with a shrug, staring at Kristi as he spoke.
She was loaded for bear. With her left hand, she pointed at the doorknob and pretended to wave their uninvited guests inside. She wanted to shoot them.
Tommy’s eyes grew wide and he mouthed the word no.
“It doesn’t matter, Bannon. You can keep the dog food, or cat, or whatever. The rest we need to collect even if you’re leaving.”
Tommy shrugged and made a stroking gesture with his hand, which resembled, well, use your imagination. “No, thanks. I’ll pack up and be on my way. Anything I don’t take with me, I’ll leave in the hallway for you guys to pick up later.”
Tommy studied the men’s reaction through the peephole. After a brief discussion, they made a few notes on a clipb
oard and moved down the hallway to another unit.
He exhaled and walked over to Kristi, who was still pointing her weapon toward the door. “They’re gone.”
Kristi reluctantly lowered her weapon. “I would’ve shot them.”
“I know. They’re not worth the bullets. We’re gonna need them, I imagine.”
He pulled her close to him and gave her a morning kiss. “You’re sexy when you have murder in your eyes.”
“I’m not sure how to take that, mister.”
He kissed her again. “It’s a compliment. Now, let’s talk about how we’re gonna get out of here. How far is it to your farm?”
Kristi broke their embrace and walked barefoot across the painted concrete floor. She made her way to the guest bathroom and responded from the dark space, “It’s a little over three hundred miles. The quickest way is to take I-65 to Louisville, but we probably want to consider back roads. It’ll help us avoid Indianapolis.”
“Okay. I don’t have a map, but I’m sure we can find our way.”
Kristi finished and looked in on Brooke, who was still curled up with several pillows and a fur blanket on the floor. She didn’t seem to be interested in sleeping on the bed.
“I like to drive back roads. There’s more to see and less aggravation. Can your truck make it that far?”
Tommy shook his head as he opened his small walk-in pantry closet. He began to empty the shelves onto the kitchen island. “I actually thought about this last night before the association meeting. The truck has less than half a tank, which means we’d need to find some gas along the way. I’m not sure that will be feasible.”
Kristi retrieved her pants from the bedroom and slipped on her socks, too. “It’s all we’ve got.” She reached into the pantry closet to help remove the food and supplies.
“Actually, we have another option.”
