The Journal: Cracked Earth

by Deborah D. Moore

  Has it really been only nine days since the first earthquake? It feels like so much longer.

  Same chores needed to be done: chickens were let out, fed and watered; wood was brought in to replace what was burned yesterday, floors swept and dishes washed. I took some fish out of the freezer for dinner and will fix some rice to go with it. I also took out a pound of hamburger for tomorrow.

  I went across the road to talk to Don about coming over to add wood to the stove when I have to be gone and told him about the town meeting. Nancy, his wife, was adamant about not getting involved. Their two freezers are stocked full, and they won’t need anything or anyone for a long time, at least not until they run out of gas for their generator. I tried to talk to them about their dependency on power, but since they’re older, they feel they know better than me, and they are sure that the power will be back up soon. I hope they’re right yet I fear they’re not.

  It was another cold day and a colder night. Power came back on around 9P.M., and was off again forty-five minutes later. At least I was able to save generator gas, fill a couple of buckets with water and recharge the cell phone. I wonder how much of a charge that short time on the grid will give to the cell tower batteries.

  * * *

  The town meeting was really short. Only a dozen people showed up and they immediately complained that we weren’t doing enough, which soon turned into complaints that we weren’t doing anything. They were upset over the gas situation. They were mad that Fram’s couldn’t get any more food or beer, and they were just plain angry about everything. They refused to shut up and it got very frustrating. It ended in a shouting match from the audience, so the board members packed up their notes and went back to their offices, closing the doors behind them. I went home very discouraged. I hope Carolyn has better luck on Sunday.

  * * *

  JOURNAL ENTRY: November 16

  The weather is surprisingly beautiful: blue skies and sunny, temperature got up to fifty-eight degrees, so I walked for an hour, trying to burn off my frustration.

  I need to do something more. I’m tired of simple dinners and I wanted to make something! The nice thing about pasties is they don’t take much to make and they’re simple. I made a large batch of pastry dough and set it aside to rest, the peeled and diced one large potato, two small carrots and a couple of onions, all still raw from the garden. I browned the hamburger that I thawed yesterday and mixed everything together. I divided up the dough into eighteen balls and rolled them out. The veggie mix went in the center and then I rolled and pinched the sides. No, they weren’t pretty but they held.

  Eighteen golden brown pasties were lined up on cooling racks on my work island. I set four of them aside for me and then wrapped the rest up in a towel, rack and all, and set it in a cardboard tote. I added a case of ramen noodles for Jacob, one of the roasts from the outside freezer, a bottle of wine, and a box of .308 shells and then drove over to Jason’s. He and Amanda were delighted with my surprise visit. I could tell they were trying hard to ration what they had, so the extra food was well received. We had a nice, short visit. The sun was getting low, and even though it was only 4:40 P.M. I needed to get back before dark.

  * * *

  It’s another cold morning, only thirty degrees with a heavy frost on the windshield, not that I’m going anywhere. I think I should make it a habit of parking in the barn now.

  I’m still feeling mixed emotions about yesterdays failed meeting. I had such high hopes. Maybe that’s the problem. I expected too much. I know this town of Moose Creek. We have so many independent souls, yet the remaining ones all have their hands out and get angry when they aren’t given everything that they feel they should have. I think those are the ones who showed up to the meeting. They are so used to getting a response from stomping their feet and throwing temper tantrums. It’s not going to work this time though, and they will learn that soon enough.

  I hope Carolyn has better luck. Her congregation is used to being polite and listening, something that didn’t happen at the meeting. She’ll get the Stone Soup Kitchen running, and that’s the important thing. I talked to her this morning and told her what happened last night. I think she’s going to be doing some scolding tomorrow. Maybe I’ll show up to watch. Meanwhile, I’m taking the day to recoup from the stress. I don’t like all of this responsibility and I like it even less when nobody listens!

  * * *

  I just came back from a long cathartic walk in the woods. It reminded me of all the walks I took at my previous house in the woods. Oh, how I miss that place. That life taught me so much about myself and about prepping. Ever since I was a too-young bride of nineteen and got caught in the mob of the grocery store a few hours before a snowstorm in Detroit, I knew that I had to keep more than one or two days of food in the house. Little-by-little, I learned. With the arrival of the boys, I learned even more, since they depended on me. It really wasn’t until I moved to the woods, however, that I understood having adequate supplies can be a life or death thing. Right from the start, my ex-husband Sam and I decided to winter in. The snow was too deep to drive through and the house was over a mile from the plowed road. I found out that pulling a heavy sled on snowshoes is tough work!

  The second winter was different. I stocked up heavy before the snow flew when I was still able to drive the supplies in. With the winter lasting almost five months, I had to store at least that much in food and supplies, everything from tomatoes to toothpaste, flour to TP. Every year it was a little easier, since I had the previous year’s inventories to reference for how much I needed of what. I made it my mission to have whatever I might need for whatever I might want to cook. I selected menus sometimes that would keep me entertained during those long cold months. When Y2K was approaching, I doubled what I stocked, just in case. That “just in case” cost us our relationship. Sam was furious that I believed Y2K could happen, and I was just as angry that he didn’t.

  I know that my approach has changed drastically from that time, and much of my supplies are now long term: buckets of wheat berries waiting to be ground into flour instead of flour, berries that will last years instead of months; sugar and salt that will never go bad since they are preservatives and need no preserving, along with rice and pasta that, if kept dry, will last indefinitely. It isn’t just food anymore. Now it’s nails, screws and fencing. It’s tools and water filters and a bicycle I don’t ride yet might need to. It’s also school supplies and larger-sized clothes for Jacob. It’s twenty years of lamp wicks because they were on clearance for only fifty cents. This approach evolved on its own when I became more aware of the world and the mess I saw it in. Look at us now; the country is quite literally ripped in half. The East Coast is drowning in seawater and sludge, and the supply lines are almost shut down from the earthquakes in the Midwest and West. Some things don’t change though… there are still nitwits who refuse to listen.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Last night it was really windy but it only dropped to forty-eight degrees. I was able to sleep with the window open again. There won’t be too many of those nights left this year. With the sun shining and blue skies, people are bound to be in a good mood. I hope.

  I was curious how Carolyn was going to handle the sermon today, so I took my place in the back pew to listen. She’s an excellent speaker, and she’s had lots of practice. She began with the tale of the seven years of plenty and the seven years of famine, and morphed into the five maidens who ran out of lamp oil when their five sisters were prepared and had enough to see them through the night. She then launched right into preparedness in modern times, and how we’ve had more than seven years of plenty, and shame on us for not setting aside enough to see us through the darkness of the days to come. If we all came together we just might make it, she insisted.

  She leaned on the podium and said, “Let me tell you a little story.” When she relayed the story of Stone Soup, and explained how the congregation was going to start The Stone Soup Kitchen, the audience nodded in ag
reement and whispered among themselves.

  I stayed until the end so I could talk with her, and because everyone was excited, I couldn’t get her alone.

  I saw her shake her finger at Lenny and say, “If you would have given the board the courtesy of your ear instead of your mouth on Friday, you would have known about this already!”

  I smiled. He was totally chastised and positively contrite!

  I tried to sneak out, but Carolyn saw me and asked me to wait. She excused herself from her flock and pulled me aside.

  “I have to thank you. This is exactly what the town needs to pull it together again,” she said with a wide grin and her eyes glowed with an inner happiness.

  I told her that I would be by on Tuesday with the turkey that I promised, and I wanted to leave it with her. I didn’t want anyone to know that it was me providing the bird. Carolyn thought that I was merely being humble. I let her think that, but truthfully, I simply don’t want anyone knowing that I have food.

  “If you bring it by around nine in the morning, only I will be there,” she told me. I think she wants to talk more.

  * * *

  JOURNAL ENTRY: November 16

  The power came back on at noon, and then it was off again an hour later. On at two, off at five. During the on times I actually had internet! The news is not good. Reports from across the country from the groups and reports on TV about the Middle East crisis, (when was there ever not a Middle East crisis??) There is massive bombing going on between Hamas and Israel and it’s escalating hourly. I sure hope no one hits the nuke button.

  A few on the groups have checked in, although internet is spotty, exactly like the power is right now. In a reverse situation, the bigger the city, the more likely it is to have power and internet. The needs of the many.

  I spoke briefly with my sister Pam. I have missed our chats! We use to talk almost daily, and it’s hard to realize it has been two weeks. She said the small town she lives in (in Lower Michigan, which is ten times bigger than my town) has undergone big changes. Most of the stores on the main street have been looted and are now boarded up. The police and fire departments remain functional, yet the firemen now just keep the fires from spreading. The grocery store that she loved walking to every day is now closed.

  * * *

  Pam was one of those I texted on The Event Day with the code of “Alas, Babylon”. Since she doesn’t have a car, she called her daughter, telling her that it was an emergency, and they drove to the store where she bought extra flour, sugar, canned goods, kitty litter, cat food, laundry soap and a couple of cases of water. She’s not the prepper that I am, still, I’m confident that if she can stay safe, she’ll be okay.

  No word from any of my group members: Shine in Kentucky, Dot in Tennessee, or Kris in Minnesota. Carol in Tennessee is okay!! She is much further away from the fault line, however, Shine is right on top of one of the branches. Carol wrote that she felt the quake but had warning from the animals and was able to get the gas shut off and power switches thrown just in case. She’s a wise woman to listen with her eyes and understand what the dogs and horses were saying with their actions. The quakes were felt as far east as Washington, DC, and as far west as Yellowstone, which is still a concern.

  The power was back on, for several hours. This corner of the township is on three separate “legs” with the power company. Don, right across the road, is strangely on a different leg than I am and he didn’t have power. I think this surge might have replenished the batteries at the cell tower, so my phone and internet might be good for another week. I hope so. Being out of communication is the pits!

  While the power was on, I filled the buckets and washed clothes again, did dishes, and took a shower. It’s funny how a hot shower makes all the difference in the world for your attitude. Being clean, I feel civilized, which makes me think back to that guy in the parking lot with his young child. I wonder how they are doing.

  I called Liz to check in and let her know that we’re holding on, and to see if there could be any relief for us, food wise, and to inform her that we’re all set for deputizing. I talked to Ken and Karen about it after church. They were reluctant, nevertheless, they understood the necessity. I wasn’t surprised that Harris would jump at the chance, though only if he could be compensated somehow. The county is in bad shape for food like everyone else, especially since so many are gravitating to the city to be taken care of. That meant that I couldn’t get any food or medical supplies sent in. At least our EMS has the basics and there hasn’t been any real emergency, at least not yet. Someone is bound to get stupid though, it’s only a matter of time. We really are on our own.

  I met Sheriff Lacey at the township office and we went over to Ken and Karen’s house. Since Harris wants to be paid, I declined to invite him. This is all gratis work that we’re doing and if he can’t help out in time of need for his own community, I don’t want him. We now have two official deputies. I hope we don’t need them. At the same time, it’s a matter of having them and not needing or needing and not having.

  * * *

  JOURNAL ENTRY: November 19

  There’s rioting in Springfield, Missouri, and I-72 going east-west and I-55 going north-south have been completely shut down with gridlock traffic trying to escape. There’s more upheaval in Quincy, where the new Mississippi Lake is forming and getting bigger every day. Those not affected by the quakes are now being flooded out. Militias are forming everywhere. I wonder if that will happen here, too. It could be done in a controlled manner with Ken and Karen in the lead. The two of them might need help.

  With no good news to write down I’m feeling numb. Even before the power quit again, I turned the TV off. I can’t listen to it anymore.

  Tufts is mad at me. He went out this morning and hasn’t come home. It’s been eight hours and I’m worried.

  Dinner was going to be some fish, but now I’m not hungry.

  * * *

  Tufts finally came in early this morning. I almost wept with relief and I would have if I wasn’t mad at him for making me worry. I know that he’s only a cat, however he’s my cat, and my companion. I don’t even want to think about alternatives.

  I got dressed while the coffee was perking. The auto timer on the coffee pot is one of those things that I really miss. I still have a bit of flavored creamer and after that’s gone, it’s either black or back to tea. I think I’d rather have the tea. Meanwhile, I’ll savor the coffee. I used to make perk coffee all the time in the woods. There is nothing like the aroma wafting through the kitchen while the coffee bubbles through the filter, yet it does take time. Maybe I’ll try the French press tomorrow. It’s much quicker and makes a great brew.

  I went out to the shed where I keep my long-term storage and removed a bucket of rice. While I was locking back up, it occurred to me that I had better make this more secure, but shoved the problem to the back of my brain for now. A five-gallon bucket holds thirty pounds of rice. Carolyn and the Stone Soup Kitchen should be happy with that. I put the bucket in the hatch of my car and backed up to the barn. In the refrigerator were those four turkeys, barely beginning to thaw. I pulled out two of them and set them in the open hatch. A few weeks ago I had gotten twenty pounds of red potatoes in a box of scraps for the chickens. The chickens won’t eat potatoes unless they’re cooked because they are too hard to peck. I hefted the box into the back next to the turkeys. I might regret not keeping those potatoes but I have a bushel full of my own, and more canned.

  As promised, there was nobody at the church, not even Carolyn. I left to take care of my second stop first—the guys on Eagle Beach. Steve was still there cleaning up. The rest of the house seemed empty. It was too quiet.

  “They’ve all gone to bed already,” Steve told me when I asked. “Green-Way was pretty upset that they weren’t going to the mine and threatened to fire them. John’s already asleep. I thought you weren’t due until tomorrow.”

  Steve looked beyond tired. When I explained what I brought for t
he guys in the house, he perked right up.

  “You’re an angel! I didn’t know how to break it to them that there wouldn’t be turkey for Thanksgiving.”

  I left him one of the birds and five pounds of potatoes with a plea that he not tell anyone where it came from.

  When I got back to the church, Carolyn had finally made her way there and had opened the basement doors for me. I handed her the frozen turkey and then grabbed the box of the remaining potatoes.

  “What’s this?” she asked me, eying the box.

  “Something extra for the soup.” I grinned, putting the box on the back counter before heading back to the car.

  “And this??” she asked, her eyebrows rising when she saw the bucket marked “Rice 30 lbs.”

  “More extra,” I laughed. Helping like this was lifting my spirits and I sure needed it. I felt almost giddy. I felt like Santa! When she saw how much rice there was, her eyes brimmed with tears.

  “This is wonderful,” she sniffled, “and I don’t even like rice.”

  “Carolyn, I won’t be able to do much more, if anything, but I wanted to give the Stone Soup Kitchen a good start. You’ll have to make it last.”