“That would be helpful. I’m sure Ken and Karen Gifford would come back on, and perhaps Bill Harris,” I said, knowing that she would be familiar these three state troopers. “And I have a list of all the CPL holders.”
“How did you get that list? CPL holders are not a matter of public record.”
“Don’t ask. But since I have mine, we kind of know each other. Besides, you know what a small town this is,” I reminded her. “Let me know when the sheriff can be here and I’ll have everybody ready.”
“Good luck, Allexa. You may well be on your own, you know,” were her last words.
“Wait! What about food?” I asked. She had already hung up.
* * *
I’m assuming that Anna is now the supervisor, since she ran for election unopposed. I had THE disaster talk with Dennis when he got elected, and Lenny before him, now it’s time for the conversation with Anna. She isn’t the type to want to hear what I have to say and I’m not looking forward to it. Hopefully with all that’s gone on in the past week, she’ll be more receptive to some hard truths.
At the top of the list of things to do was to check with Joe at Fram’s Store. I stopped there before going to the township office and left word that I needed to see him in Anna’s office.
Joe arrived shortly after I did and we discussed what was in the small grocery store. I reassured him that we had no intention of confiscating his inventory, which seems to be holding, mainly because he maintains a back room stock, not a JIT system. He also had the gas tanks filled a week before all this happened. He didn’t like it that I said that we might need to ration the gas, however he saw the wisdom in it. There really is no place to go, so we decided to limit gas to ten gallons per-person-per-week, and that will mostly be used for generators if the power goes out. I also suggested he that limit store hours, so there won’t be panic buying like in the city. I then suggested that he might also want to consider hiring a night watchman. That was a shock to him, because this is a fairly crime-free community and there hasn’t ever been the need for guards before. Half the people in town don’t even lock their doors.
Along with the store is the only Laundromat in town and a café that serves breakfast and lunch. The biggest draw is that both areas are internet hot spots. One of the downsides of being so rural is the dependency on only a few relay towers, and those towers need power. When the power goes out, so does the connection. Joe has a huge backup generator for the store complex, and since he provides the electricity for the tower on top of his building, the internet should still work. I say “should” because it’s never been fully tested.
I like Joe. We’ve been friends a long time, and I suggested that he take some of the food stock home with him, a couple cases of veggies at the very least. He glumly nodded and left.
Anna is a very petite gray/blond, with never a hair out of place and is always nicely dressed. She looked shocked and ruffled while she slumped in the oversized brown leather chair and drummed her manicured fingertips on the glass desktop.
“On our own? No help from anyone? What are we going to do?” she asked after I relayed the information from Liz to her. She was so not ready for this.
“The first thing we’re going to do, Anna, is stay calm. The town will look to you for guidance. You are the elected official here. In a disaster situation I’m to take point, however, I think you should be there too. Together we can do this. Okay?” She had that deer in the headlights look, and merely nodded. What is it with the nodding lately? Everyone seems to have lost their voice. “For now, I think we should start with some lists. Who do we think will be leaders? Who do we think could cause trouble? Who are the seniors that might need help or checking on? Is there anyone else like Leon, who is severely disabled? Oh, and who has wood heat?”
“I don’t know, Allexa. Are these really important issues?” she asked me dismissively.
“They might be, Anna. I think we should have the answers before we need to ask the question, especially concerning the elderly and the disabled,” I stated firmly.
“It’s only been a few days, and we really haven’t been affected by the earthquake. No one seems to be all that worried.”
“They may not be worried right now but what about tomorrow or the next day when everyone starts to realize just how short our local food supply is? We are going to want to know who is out there that needs our help,” I insisted.
Stubborn as she was being, she finally saw my point after a discussion. The sun was going down by the time I left her office.
* * *
JOURNAL ENTRY: November 13
The power went out for a couple of hours this evening, but it’s back on now. We get our power feed from Wisconsin and they are closer to ground zero than we are. I’m wondering how long the power stations will continue to be operational. It would only make sense for all the nuclear reactor plants to go into a systematic shutdown to prevent a major incident, like the Fukushima, Chernobyl, or Three Mile Island situations.
Hundreds more minor aftershocks continue to hamper any rescue efforts along the New Madrid fault. It’s a mess down there.
CHAPTER FIVE
The power went out again early this morning and hasn’t come back on.
I had another meeting scheduled with Anna today. It’s a good thing the township hall is only four miles down the road from me. I might be using up my allotted gas just going to town, although that will last only while the roads are open. The weather was mild until yesterday, when the temperatures dropped into the twenties and we got a dusting of snow. This is only the beginning. Average snowfall here is almost 200 inches in a season, and I’ve seen 360 inches in some areas. If that happens nobody will be getting around.
Anna’s office has only one small window, and with the gloomy gray skies, it was dark in there. I brought one of my battery operated lanterns and set that on her desk while we went over our lists. She looked longingly at it, so I gave it to her. I didn’t tell her I had a few more. I reminded her that it took batteries and she needed to get some from Joe.
We decided to post important notices at the township hall and at the post office. There hasn’t been any new mail in a few days, yet D.J., the postmaster, is there anyway. The office area where our postal boxes are is open twenty-four hours, and it is a good place to leave important information. Fram’s might be another good place for notices. We decided that the first notice will be a special town meeting scheduled for Friday at noon.
Considering the fuel delivery disruption, we discussed the rationing issue and Anna decided to simply shut down Joe’s gas supply to save it for the EMS, fire trucks and the road crews, eliminating the need for rationing. People might be more accepting of that. If someone needed gas it would be allotted on a case by case determination. A few of us would need a few gallons each week to get to the offices: Anna, myself, Pete our township handyman, Mike the fire chief, and Maye, the newly elected clerk. Everyone else lives within walking distance. It might be a long time before fuel comes available, so I think it was a wise move, and I was secretly glad that I didn’t have to make that decision.
Anna’s come around quickly, I think partly because her brother Dennis, the former supervisor, is a nurse in the city and has relayed some horror stories about these past few days. Thankfully, she’s willing to work with me in a joint effort to ensure the safety of the town.
We now have a more accurate view of our resources and a better picture of our growing needs. We had lists of who was where that might need help and I’ll combine them into one list later tonight when I get back home. Our biggest dilemma is going to be food. I said I was working on something and needed to talk to Pastor Carolyn before I discussed it. Anna seemed satisfied with that but I think that she just doesn’t want to dwell on it. I was not about to shatter her snow-globe world with the fact that food is really our major concern, or would be shortly.
We also have lists of everyone over sixty-five years of age. I was surprised that there are seventy-eight seni
ors, and many of those were living alone, plus everyone who was disabled or has medical issues. We have a list of known hunters, a guesstimate of those with wood burning stoves, and who had a CPL. I had to educate Anna that it meant a Concealed Pistol License. I still needed to call Karen, Ken, and Bill about being deputized. Thankfully, the cell phones are still working. The tower I see from my computer room has a massive battery system that is constantly being charged by the grid. When the power is out the batteries take over and can last about a week. After that, no more cell service and no more internet until power to the grid is restored.
* * *
JOURNAL ENTRY: November 13
The house was really cold when I got home. I was away so long that the fire in the stove had gone out. I need to ask Don if he could come over during the day and put in a couple of logs when I’m gone for an extended period. A big advantage to my brother being right across the road is that he’s close and I trust him with the keys. With the stove cold, I used up some propane and lit the gas stove with a match. Mac and cheese for dinner may not be very nourishing, but it was hot and quieted my grumbling stomach.
More news from the disaster zones today.... Tent cities are going up all around the East Coast, trying to shelter the victims from the hurricane. With the nor’easter that hit right after the earthquakes, it seems to be a losing battle for FEMA and the Red Cross. People are really angry at the government for not doing more. What is the government supposed to do? Those that are screaming the loudest are the ones who refused to get out before the hurricane made landfall, despite being strongly encouraged to do so. I still don’t understand that mentality. I just don’t.
The news helicopter photos of Missouri are surreal, like clips from a bad movie. One report said the National Guard was called in; another said it was the Army. One interesting and sad item was the destruction of a zoo. Buildings were toppled and fences were ripped down by the falling debris, which means animals are now on the loose. I must be getting punchy because all I can think is “Lions, and Tigers and Bears. Oh, my!”
It’s late and bad jokes are not my style. I need sleep.
* * *
The morning was bitterly cold when I went to Eagle Beach to see John for his weekly massage. It was pleasantly warm inside and lights were blazing in every room. It was obvious that the generator was working well. Steve was still cooking breakfasts, which seemed odd. Usually by the time I arrive, everyone has eaten and he’s in cleanup mode. It seems that not all of the guys are doing their shifts at the mine, and are just hanging around the house. From what I’ve heard of Green-Way Mining Company, that won’t be tolerated for very long.
John was unusually quiet and preoccupied. When I asked him what was wrong, he said he couldn’t reach his family in southern Indiana.
“I know they’re all grown adults with families and lives of their own, but they’re still my family and I’m worried. I can’t reach my mom either,” he mumbled into the face cradle of the massage table. I stilled my hands on his back, trying to give him some of my positive energy.
“Well, it’s likely that they’re fine and that it’s because the cell towers are down. I’m expecting my cell to go out soon. The tower near me has only a few more days of backup power,” I said trying to be reassuring. It got me thinking about lost communications. What would we all do? It’s been so easy to pick up the phone and call whomever we wanted. Even though it’s only been a few days, I needed to talk to Eric. What if I never heard from him again? My sons mean the world to me. I understood how John was feeling.
* * *
Back home the chores still needed to be done. I hauled in extra wood and more kindling since the nights are getting very cold. I fed the chickens and let them out into their sheltered yard. Then I started up the generator so I could have water to wash dishes. After the dishes I washed the globes on all the oil lamps and topped the kerosene off. While the gennie was going, I took a quick shower and washed my hair, glad again for having my hair cut, donating eighteen inches to Locks for Love. I filled a bucket of water for flushing and then shut the gennie down. An hour in the morning and an hour at night should keep the deep-freeze going for a while. One of my goals is still to use something from the freezer every day for dinner. In time I’ll be able to keep some of it in coolers on the deck, but not until the temps stay below freezing. This food cannot go to waste!
Tonight dinner will be chicken legs and the last of the romaine lettuce for a salad. I’m really going to miss salads. I still have half a head of garden cabbage in the fridge. Cabbage keeps so well, especially when it’s that fresh. I need to grow more of it next year. There had been a half row of Swiss chard, however the chickens made short work of that. Next year I’ll protect it better. I will keep this head of cabbage for fresh coleslaw. When it runs out, I will use the coleslaw I canned last summer. I wish I could thank David, the group’s canning guru, for that recipe, but he hasn’t been online lately. In fact, all the internet groups are strangely quiet. I think we’re all quite busy just surviving.
* * *
JOURNAL ENTRY: November 14
While I had the generator running this evening, I watched the news for a bit. The Mississippi river is slowly draining because of the new “dam” near Hannibal. There’s talk of blasting it open, except they were afraid of triggering another quake. The Army Corp of Engineers is there now, scratching their heads like the rest of us. It’s possible that they can blast in increments to relieve the pressure. What they don’t want to do is send a twenty-foot wall of water cascading downriver. What bridges along the river that didn’t collapse during the actual quakes are being examined, and most of them have structural problems which make them unsafe for heavy traffic. The good news is that some of the bridges can be used for foot traffic. The death toll keeps climbing, and now there is a plea for body bags. At this point, one of the new concerns is disease, however they haven’t said what disease they are concerned about.
* * *
Carolyn finally got back to me. I put a couple of logs in the stove and headed over to her house across from the church. In her seventies with a crop of curly gray hair and lively blue eyes, she’s fit and spry, and has a delightful sense of humor, though there’s not much that’s been funny lately.
“I did see you hiding in the back pew on Sunday, Allexa,” she smirked. “Do I have a new convert? Or is something else on your mind?”
“Definitely something else, Carolyn,” I said. “I was listening to some of the concerns of the congregation, mainly about our food supply. It’s a valid concern, and I have an idea for feeding the masses, and I think you are the perfect choice. Before you say anything, hear me out. I’d like to see a soup kitchen started. The Catholic Church isn’t suitable, since people have to go down that flight of stairs to get to the kitchens. Your church has that short ramp, making it much more accessible, and your area is bigger.”
“Go on”, she said, looking interested.
“Do you know the story of Stone Soup?”
“You mean the one where a stranger comes into the poor town looking for food and no one has any? He claims that he has a magical stone that will make soup; all he needs is a large pot of water over a fire. After putting the stone from his pocket into the pot, he says ‘it will be good, but it will be better if there were a couple of carrots to put in,’ and someone brought out some carrots. And so on with potatoes and onions until there was a pot of real vegetable soup and everyone was fed,” she said.
“Yes! That’s the story. What if you had a soup kitchen where people could bring a can of something to donate to the pot and then have a meal in the warmth of the church basement? We could call it The Stone Soup Kitchen.” I let it sink in for a moment.
“Hunting season started today,” Carolyn said thoughtfully. “I’m sure a couple of the guys would be willing to donate some venison to add protein to the pot. And I love the name: The Stone Soup Kitchen,” she said, letting the name roll around in her mouth. “Yes, that would be the p
erfect name. I like it a lot. Why are you doing this?”
“First of all, Carolyn, I care about this town and the people here. Second, as the emergency manager for the township, I know people are easier to take care of if they’re not hungry. I am not going to confiscate anyone’s food. If someone was smart enough to stock up for the winter, then good for them, it’s their food. If we make it easy for people to voluntarily share or donate, I think we will have a much better response. You could even ask for plate donations to be a can of something, since money is useless right now. What do you think?”
“I think God was wise in putting you in our community,” she said and gave me a warm hug.
“And all this time I thought it was my ex,” I said under my breath. She ignored me.
We went over some details about what would be needed— cooks, someone to set up chairs and clean up, all volunteers from the congregation, and we discussed the different possibilities for meals. I suspect soup might get boring after a while, nevertheless, at least it would be food. I plan on announcing this at the town meeting tomorrow and she will make it part of her sermon on Sunday. It’s hard to estimate how many people are left in town, and I think after the meeting we might have a better idea. I know many are leaving to stay with relatives in other towns, since our town is so isolated. A soup kitchen feeding a hundred people might work, but for how long?
I made another last minute decision, which seems to be frequent for me lately, like people only nodding at me. “You could start it on Thanksgiving. There’s an extra turkey in my freezer that you can have.” I thought she was going to start crying, so it seemed like a good time to make my exit. I was back at home before noon.
The Journal: Cracked Earth Page 6
