As I drove past the offices I noticed the Hummer was gone. Hoping to find Jim at home so I could get my bicycle, I went straight there.
“I hope you don’t mind I borrowed the Hummer for a few minutes,” I said to Jim when I found him in the big barn, tinkering with my bike.
“Not at all,” he replied. “Nice bike, and it looks new.”
“I got it a year before the first quake and just haven’t had a reason to use it. I think it will be a great way to get around town.”
“I wish we had a half dozen of these for the security team. I don’t like having to put them on foot, but we need to start conserving gas.” He filled and tested the tires.
“Are we getting low on fuel already?” This was a concern Tom and I knew would happen, though I didn’t expect it so soon.
“Not really, but the sooner we start rationing the longer supplies will last.”
“Maybe we should put the word out we need bicycles, and have the community check the garages of their new homes,” I said. “They could take whatever they find to the nuns at the supply store and you could take your pick. I’m sure there is someone that can make any repairs necessary. The big issue will be tires and tubes.”
“The added benefit of the security team on bikes will be the town seeing us setting an example, and it will encourage them to conserve too,” Jim finished my thought.
“I’m going to take my bike for a spin. See you here for lunch?” After he nodded I headed up the driveway, giddy with excitement.
I headed up Dutch Street and turned at the old post office, waving to a group seated under the shelter at the park. I rode past the school, the cold wind blowing through my short hair. There was a sense of freedom to be moving so fast under my own power. I pulled into the parking lot of the supply store and stopped, slightly out of breath. Sister Lynn was just coming out.
“Oh, my, that looks like fun,” she giggled.
“In an effort to start conserving gasoline, the colonel wants to put the security guys on bikes. Can you help get the word out for everyone to check their places and to bring all bicycles here?” I told her of our plan.
With renewed enthusiasm I rode down to the township hall, just in time to see a motorcycle with a trailer pull into the lot.
I leaned my bike against the building. “Hello, can I help you?” I asked.
“Perhaps I can help you!” the man replied with a smile. He had dark hair and dark eyes, and although he wore a leather jacket and a helmet, he didn’t strike me as the biker-type. I quickly chastised myself. I tried not to stereotype others any more. It just didn’t work in this new world we lived in.
I held out my hand. “I’m Allexa Smeth.”
“Harold Wolfe, purveyor of seeds and tinker, at your service,” he introduced himself with a bow of his head and a firm handshake.
“Well, Mr. Wolfe, please come in to our offices and meet the mayor,” I said, opening the door. I stepped inside after him and went directly to Tom’s office. “Tom, we have a visitor. Mr. Wolfe, this is our mayor, Tom White.”
Tom stood, surprised at the new face, and extended his hand.
“Harold Wolfe, seller of garden seeds and tinker,” Harold said.
“Forgive me, we don’t get visitors anymore,” Tom stated. “What can we do for you?”
“For the past year I’ve been traveling, selling the seeds I’ve collected over the years, and helping to repair things if I can.”
“What kind of seeds do you have, Mr. Wolfe?” I asked. I must admit I was very curious about what he may have brought with him.
“Harold, please. Mr. Wolfe was my father,” he laughed. “As for my seeds, everything is heirloom or heritage and grows in the cooler, short seasons. My goal is to spread food that can be grown again and again, by saving the seed. Many of the seeds available prior to the crash were genetically modified with a kill-gene, and either would not grow again, or would not be true to the parent plant.”
“I’m a believer in heirloom seed myself,” I said.
“Ah, then you know how crucial it is to our future!”
“What is the price of this seed?” Tom asked skeptically.
“It’s all negotiable. I ask only for a place to stay while I’m here and one meal a day. Plus some gas when I leave so I may continue to spread the gardens. I like to think of myself as a Johnny Appleseed of vegetables,” Harold chuckled.
“What kind of guarantee do we have that this seed will grow?” Tom asked, ever thinking about the good of his town.
“Life doesn’t offer guarantees anymore, Mr. White. However, I plan to stay long enough to prove the seed germinates. Growing it is up to you,” Harold said.
“Fair enough,” I said. “We have a large meeting room you can set up in if you need to display. And quite honestly, I’d like to see what you have. It’s still a bit early for us to be planting, and with this current cold spell, I’m not sure when the ground will be warm enough, but I know everyone is anxious to start growing something, anything.”
*
Tom and I helped Harold bring in some boxes from the trailer and set them on a table. Harold opened one for us to see a bunch of water bottles filled with seeds.
“That’s an interesting way to transport,” I commented.
“Oh, not just for transport, it’s how I store them. The bottles are air tight and water tight, which protects the seeds from the elements. Back in Virginia I used to keep them all in my ‘hidey hole’ under the back porch. It worked extremely well.”
“How do you get more seeds?” I asked.
“Well, last year at the beginning of summer, I stayed in the community I sold to and helped them grow it. My price was just a couple of plants of each variety, and I processed those seeds, and then moved on. It was a win-win for everyone. Most of my seeds I harvested from the first fruiting, which was before the ash cloud hit.” He seemed to drift away for a moment. “Those were some good people and I wonder how they’re doing.”
“Whose bike is out front?” Jim asked as he came into the meeting room.
“Harold Wolfe, this is Colonel James Andrews, chief of our security force,” Tom introduced the two. “Harold just arrived to sell us garden seeds.”
We spent some time helping Harold sort the bottles out by type of seed.
“It’s a bit late to start tomatoes and peppers, although I might want some for next year,” I said, looking at the different types of tomatoes listed on the bottles. “What kind of veggies do you two like?” I asked Tom and Jim, realizing I didn’t know their preferences.
“The edible kind for me, Allex,” Jim teased.
“Just don’t make me eat spinach,” Tom added.
“Then slow-bolting Swiss chard is for you, Mr. White. It’s sweeter,” Harold said knowingly. “Are you the gardener of the family, Ms. Smeth?”
He zeroed right in on the three of us being together. “Yes, Harold, I am.” It was best he knew upfront how tight we were. “We’re going to leave you to finish setting up however you prefer. This building is quite secure. Tom, Jim, can we go over some business?”
*
“This could be the boost the town needs, Allex,” Tom was the first to say once we were behind the closed doors of his office.
“I agree,” Jim concurred. “We’re starting to have minor scuffles among the residents. Everyone is getting bored. A garden to tend will give the people something to do and pull them closer together.”
“I know there are a couple of vacant rooms at the Inn. We can put him up there if that’s okay, and Marsha can give him his one meal per day. My guess is that he will seek a second meal from anyone willing to feed him,” I said.
“You’ve got good instincts, Allex, what do you think of this Mr. Wolfe?” Jim asked me.
“I feel he’s sincere, although I suggest we keep an eye on him. Why don’t we have him for dinner tonight? That way we can get a better feel for him and decide if his motivations are what he says they are.”
“I kno
w you can handle yourself, Allex, but I don’t want you alone with him, okay?” Jim said. I patted his cheek and agreed.
*
“Harold, as you might have surmised, the three of us make most of the decisions in town, and we’ve unanimously decided to accept your offer,” Tom said. “We’ll put you up at the Inn in the center of town. You will also get the one meal per day you’ve requested. It will be your choice if you want to display your seeds here in the offices or take them with you to the Inn. Tonight we would like you to be our guest for dinner. Colonel Andrews will check you in with the proprietress there, and show you where to come for dinner, say around six-thirty for cocktails?”
“Thank you, Mr. White, cocktails will be a nice treat.” Harold locked eyes with me as he left.
As they walked out the door I heard Jim quietly say, “She’s mine.”
*
I had just enough time to get home and put together a one-rise batch of bread in time for dinner.
By six o’clock, the table was set, bread was baked, and the salmon patties were seared and waiting to go in the oven for the finishing touches. The rice pilaf with mushrooms was done and the three-bean salad was chilling. Jim, Tom and I stepped out onto the deck with a cocktail.
“Any thoughts on how to deal with Wolfe?” Tom said.
“I don’t know if there’s anything to deal with, Tom,” I said. “Let’s give him a chance. He’s either honest or he’s not. We’ll find out soon enough.” I shivered. “It’s getting cold. I’m going back inside.”
“For being the end of May it feels more like October,” Tom observed, once we were all inside again and warming by the fireplace.
“And the clouds are back, darker than before,” Jim added. “Allex, are you going to be able to plant anything in this cold?”
“If it doesn’t warm up soon, maybe not. I’m going to do root crops first: potatoes, carrots, beets, rutabaga, turnips. And I’ll cover the beds with plastic until they germinate,” I said. “Tomorrow I’ll talk to Jason about some kind of tent or shelter for over that area to help hold in the heat. Eric has tomatoes and peppers in the greenhouse. I could bring some back, though they’re better off right there for now.”
There was a knock on the door. Our guest had arrived.
*
“That was wonderful,” Harold said, wiping his mouth with the napkin. “I haven’t eaten that well in ages!” Jim moved to pour more wine, and Harold put his hand over his glass. “One glass is my limit, thank you. So, what are you looking to plant this year, Ms. Smeth?”
“I was telling Jim and Tom that because it’s so cold still, I thought I’d start with root crops until we can devise some kind of heat retaining shelter,” I answered. “We were lucky this past winter for weather. It was exceptionally mild, considering. It could be because we were on the northern edge of the cloud and that the Keweenaw blocks a lot of our bad weather. I have a feeling our luck has just run out.” I gazed out the vast windows, seeing dark clouds accumulating over Lake Superior.
“Tell us more about the last place you were at, Harold. Oh, and where are you from again?” Jim asked.
“I’m originally from a small town in Virginia. After my wife and daughter were taken during one of the flu outbreaks, I had no reason to stay there and decided to travel with my seeds,” he said. “The last town I stayed in was Andersonville, just south of Crystal Falls. Nice town and nice people. As I mentioned, I left there before Yellowstone blew, so just before the ash cloud. Once the eruption happened I hunkered down on a farm north of Escanaba with an elderly couple for the duration. Another win-win situation. They needed the extra help and I needed a place to stay.”
“Where are you off to next?” Tom asked.
Harold laughed. “I have no idea.”
“One last thing to cover,” Jim said.
“I’m sure you are aware that the country is under martial law, and that includes us, although my security force is pretty lenient. If you have a weapon, please keep it secure. Curfew is ten at night until six in the morning.”
“I will keep that in mind, Colonel. On that note, I think I will bid you goodnight and head back to my room.” Harold stood. “Thank you again for a wonderful meal and a delightful evening.”
After he left, I turned to Jim, “We have a curfew?”
“No, but he does.”
CHAPTER 26
JOURNAL ENTRY: May 23
Even though the air is still chilly this morning, the winds have died down to nothing. I decided it was as good of time as any to start working on the raised beds up by the big barn. I found a rake and a hoe in the barn and got to work. I will have to find some way to create a compost pile for all the leaves and weeds I’m removing – I don’t think my friends did much along that line.
~~~
“That’s starting to look good, Allex,” Jim said when he came back to the house for some lunch.
“I thought I would start with getting the leaves and debris off the eight beds first. After lunch I think I’ll dig up two, maybe three of the beds and try to get at least some potatoes in the ground.” I dusted the dirt off my hands on my already dirty jeans. “Raised beds are nice for weeding and harvesting, though not being able to rototill them creates even more work, in my opinion.”
*
It was late in the afternoon by the time I finished getting the potatoes, carrots, and seed onions into the freshly turned soil, and I was more than ready for a break. After washing up, I took my bicycle up the steep driveway and hopped on. It was a short ride to the supply shop and I wanted to check with the nuns about when they might start asking the town for more bikes.
“Oh, my goodness! Where did all of these come from?” I was amazed to see over a dozen adult bicycles and a few children’s bikes parked in the lot behind the supply trailer.
Sister Lynn looked surprised. “Isn’t this what you asked us to do, Allexa?”
“Well, yes. I just didn’t expect results so soon!” I said, truly impressed. “How did you manage to get the word out so quickly?”
“Don’t forget we also run the school,” she giggled. “Many of the parents volunteer and we’ve created our own ‘calling tree’, except it’s by word of mouth. Some of these bikes showed up overnight and some this morning. Is this enough?”
“I think it’s more than enough. Although, this would be a good place for anyone to get transportation if they want it,” I said. “I’ll let the colonel know he can take his pick. Thank you!” I hopped back on my bike and headed up the street toward the school. Beyond that was Bradley’s Backyard, the township community garden.
“It’s good to see someone working here,” I said to the person raking smooth a section of ground. He straightened up, stretching his back, and grinned. It was Harold Wolfe.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Smeth. Have you come to help?” he grinned.
“No, I have my own gardens to tend,” I replied. “Why are you working the ground, Harold?”
“Someone has to,” he said, setting the rake aside and walking toward me. “I took a walk around your quaint little town this morning and spotted this area. It was an educated guess that this is the community garden spot, is that correct?”
“Yes. You don’t have to work it though, that should be done by the residents. They have to learn to fend for themselves,” I said a bit too harshly.
“I understand that, however, if they see someone working in their behalf, they may feel the pressure to assist.” He wiped his hands on his trousers. “As a matter of fact, there was someone here earlier. She had to leave to fix lunch for the school kids.” Harold looked like he wanted to say more. “May I be candid, Ms. Smeth?”
“Of course.”
“The colonel has deep feelings for you from what I can tell, and is understandably possessive of you. I feel quite uneasy around him. Would you please assure him I am not a threat?”
“I will do that, Harold, and please call me Allexa,” I said. I heard some loud shouting coming from t
he other side of the Inn. “Excuse me!” I said, and peddled my bike as quickly as I could, just in time to see two men in a fist fight.
Almost at the same time Ken and Karen pulled up in their car and jumped out.
“Hey, what’s going on here?” Ken ran up to the fight as the older man knocked the other one to the ground.
“He’s been making moves on my wife!” he snarled.
“No I haven’t, and she’s not just your wife, she’s my …” the younger one said, getting to his feet. The older man landed another punch before the boy could finish. The younger one only pushed back as if he didn’t want to fight. Just as Ken started to step in between them the older one pulled a knife and thrust it, stabbing Ken instead of his intended victim.
“Ken!” Karen screamed and pulled her service revolver.
“No, Karen!” I yelled too late. She was already pulling the trigger. The report echoed off the back of the building, the sound ricocheting off the external bricks of the fireplace on the other side, and the man went down.
We both ran to Ken’s side. Blood was oozing out of his side and he struggled for breath. “Stay here, I’ll get Dr. James!” I sped away in the scout car, leaving Karen crying on the cold ground with Ken in her lap, bleeding profusely. The younger man knelt in the sand and gravel weeping over his assailant.
We returned a few minutes later with Dr. James driving the ambulance. While the doctor examined Ken, I took vitals on the gunshot victim. I couldn’t find a pulse or a heartbeat. The shooting was at such close range I would have been surprised if Karen had missed. I left him lying there, mourned by his victim, and helped Dr. James tend to Ken.
The Journal: Raging Tide: (The Journal Book 4) Page 21
