The Journal: Cracked Earth

by Deborah D. Moore

  “You took quite a chance coming here without an appointment,” he said while leaning back in his chair and eyed me. There was a time, years ago, that we had entertained the idea of dating, but his marriage ended that abruptly. “You’re looking well.”

  “You look like you could use twenty-four hours of sleep and a week-long cruise to the Bahamas. Besides, I’m finding that just showing up gets better results.”

  He laughed. “Gosh, it’s good to see you, Allex,” he said leaning forward on his elbows. “What can I do for you?”

  “Food, Tom. Moose Creek is starving. You know that no one can get past the checkpoints without a good reason, and I doubt that there’s anything in the grocery stores anyway. Anything at all, a couple cases of soup, Spam— anything!”

  He pulled a notepad out, wrote something at the top, and signed the bottom. He stood up and handed it to me. It was a request form for the bulk food store! “I still wish you would consider being my assistant, Allex.”

  * * *

  After I left Tom’s office with that requisition in my hand, I felt exhilarated, giddy with excitement. We went directly to the warehouse.

  At the counter, I presented the paperwork and asked what I could have. The older woman handling the bulk orders asked how many I was feeding. When I told her seventy-five, she looked up. I smiled and shrugged, and said, “A whole town. Moose Creek.”

  While John wandered the aisles, I sat with a checklist: flour, sugar, salt and yeast, cases of soup, veggies, pasta and bags of rice. I checked off powdered milk, cheese, dried potatoes, canned meats and fish, along with fruit, cooking oil, shortening, dry mixes for seasoning and soup base, boxes of cereal for the kids, cakes mixes and chocolate chips, #10 cans of spaghetti sauce, chili and taco sauce, oatmeal, eggs, and even bacon was available.

  The lady looked over my list. “You haven’t put down any amounts.”

  “I don’t know how much I can have. We’ll take anything you can give us.” She nodded. “What about non-food items?” I asked, then explained about the Stone Soup Kitchen, and our recent bout with the flu, hoping to get a couple boxes of food-handlers’ plastic gloves. As I was finishing, John came back to the counter.

  “Can I buy something?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He hurried away with a wide grin on his face.

  I was surprised that we could arrange delivery for the next day at noon. I felt short of breath and felt like weeping with relief.

  * * *

  JOURNAL ENTRY: January 20

  Tonight I laid awake and thought about that dream of my house in the woods. Sometimes dreams are just dreams. Sometimes dreams are our subconscious trying to tell us something. Maybe it’s time for me to completely forget about that life and move on. That house will never be mine again and I will never again have a say in what happens to it. I’ve known this in my head, but it’s been hard for my heart to accept it.

  I read over what I had written about that dream, and Sam. Sam is tall, handsome, and a charming bipolar narcissist with a truly evil streak. He no longer lives anywhere around here. He was a part of my life for nine years and those years shaped much who I am now and why I feel the way I do.

  It’s time to let go of my anger and fear of him now.

  * * *

  I wanted to be at the EMS building when the delivery arrived, so John and I left the house at 11:30 A.M. to begin setting up. After looking things over, I was really glad we got there early since the EMS building would not work. All of the EMS and fire trucks needed to be parked inside, which left little room for the space that was needed. Back at the township offices, Pete helped us pull long tables out of the storage closet and line them up so we could organize the supplies and disperse them. First we had to move out all the crafts the Ladies Knitting group was making out of the recycled trash. We moved plant stands that were made from two oil bottles with the bottoms glued together, and then flat dishes glued to the top and bottom that created a base and a place to put a plant. There were pincushions made from tuna cans, and rugs made from scrap material

  While the stuff was being moved, I headed to the EMS building to intercept the delivery truck. The driver wasn’t happy about the change in location, however when I explained that it was right next door, he was okay with that.

  At first it didn’t look like much, but when we took the cases out of the van, they really began to add up. Several volunteers unloaded the supplies, while I gave directions where to put things. I signed the receipt and walked through the aisles to see what we had. When I stopped at the miscellaneous table, included were six boxes of food handler gloves and a case each of toilet paper, paper towels and tissues! I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the gross of gallon and quart zipper baggies, still, I wasn’t going to complain.

  It seemed easier to put one or two cases of something on the table, and the rest on floor underneath, where it would still be easy to reach. It was starting to take shape, and now I needed a way to hand it out. I thought about giving it all to the soup kitchen, but that defeated the purpose of everyone having a choice of either sharing it, or fixing their meals at home. First we needed a count of how many people were still here that needed to be fed.

  Neither Anna nor Carolyn could agree on a number of residents remaining. It could be as few as fifty, or as many as a hundred. Those out in the woods were more self-sufficient and were hunkering down. We probably wouldn’t see them until Spring. Between the three of us, we decided that the bulk items, like the three hundred pounds of flour and yeast, cooking oil and shortening, soup bases, and the #10 cans should go to the Stone Soup Kitchen for community meals. It would be too difficult to divide that up. With the remainder, we selected what it would take to feed one person one decent meal per day, then gathered a week’s worth so we could hand out one bag per person. They could always get a second meal at the soup kitchen, which would be more than most were getting now. We will have to keep track of who came in and when. Unfortunately, this inventory room will have to be kept closed and locked except during selected grocery days. Since I procured the food, I left it up to Anna and Carolyn on how best to distribute. I was tired, emotionally drained and ready to go home.

  Before leaving, I did a quick calculation. With the food here, it looked like we could keep fifty people fed for a month. It was a good start.

  * * *

  It was a night for comfort food. I mixed up a large chicken noodle casserole using a jar of chicken thighs I canned in the fall, with egg noodles, one of the few remaining cans of mushroom soup, a jar of my garden peas and a mixture of cheeses on top.

  As I put the dish in the oven to heat, John came into the kitchen with a devious look on his face.

  “What are you up to?” I asked with a grin.

  “I brought you a gift,” he replied. From behind his back, he brought out a bag of lettuce that he had purchased at the warehouse. He chuckled at my astonished look. Tonight we could have a fresh salad. It made my day!

  * * *

  I’m sure John doesn’t know that I remember today is his birthday, but I do. Alone in our bedroom last night, I asked him what he missed the most.

  “My family,” he answered. I could feel the sorrow in his voice, and I thought of my Eric in Florida. I wondered when I would hear from him again and my heart stuttered. We were silent for a while. I thought he had fallen asleep, and then he chuckled, “And smokes.”

  I had forgotten that he was a smoker. Apparently he had detoxed before he came here, since it’s never come up. This wasn’t what I expected, so there was no covert way to ask him about his favorite foods.

  * * *

  We try to have meals at the table and together, so after admitting I was getting bored with toast, I asked what everyone else missed eating.

  “Oh, that’s easy,” Jason said. “Deep fried perch.”

  “I want French fries,” Jacob quickly added.

  John looked thoughtful and then said, “Pizza, with lots of sauce and gooey cheese.�
��

  We all laughed at that, and I knew that in the back of the freezer were several eight ounce blocks of various cheese and I was fairly certain there was some mozzarella. I knew I had stored cans of mushrooms and tomato sauce and that a stick of pepperoni was in the cooler outside. All these years that I’ve been prepping, I’ve tried hard to always have on hand enough of whatever I needed to make whatever I wanted. Now I could make a pizza!

  While John was outside getting wood, I pulled Jason aside and told him of the plans.

  “How does Jacob like his pizza? I can arrange the toppings for what he’ll eat.”

  “I’d say a good size single piece will be enough for him. He always ate those mini-pizzas. Only no mushrooms, and the pepperoni needs to be cut up small. I’ll do it if you want.”

  * * *

  After he was done loading wood behind the stove, John engaged Jacob in a game of Scrabble. I know how surprised he was at young Jacob’s adeptness. That boy could spell anything and he added the scores in his head quicker than John could write them down. It was delightful to me to see those two bonding.

  During the afternoon class lessons, Jason had Jacob make John a birthday card. It was impossible to hide making the pizza from John, but when we sat down for dinner, Jacob gave John a hug and the hand drawn card. I could see him getting choked up.

  * * *

  “How did you know?” John asked me later.

  “You told me months ago, maybe even a year ago,” I said, remembering the time when I asked, and why. I’ve had feelings for John for a long time, he just never knew it. “I’m really sorry I have no gift to give you.”

  He tightened his grip around me as we lay there in bed. “That you even remembered is my gift. I can’t remember ever being so content, Allex, so needed, so wanted or so appreciated. Thank you.” He kissed me softly.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Today was the first day of the food giveaway and I wanted to be there. Surprisingly, John let me go by myself.

  Before we opened the doors, I called Pam again. She answered!

  “When you called before I was out shoveling snow off the steps,” she said. “When I tried calling back the line was dead. Our power was out for a while, and now it’s back on and steady. Our power lines are tied to another town, and that town has a hospital so it stays on.”

  “Oh, that’s good for you, since you’re all electric.” I said. “I’ve been worried about you.”

  “For the few days it was down, I stayed with Peggy and Keith,” Pam continued. “I know I don’t always get along with my son-in-law, but I love my daughter and they have a fireplace so we burned lots of wood. It helped, though not very much.”

  She had learned really fast it’s not an efficient way to stay warm. Pam was stocked up from summer canning, and now her supplies were starting to run low.

  “I saw the National Guard a few days ago,” she said. “Several trucks cruised down Main Street. They never stopped though. It was like they were just watching, observing and wanting to be seen.” She was also surprised at how the locals had come together during this crisis to take care of each other. Certainly nothing like the big city she had left only two years ago. I told her I would try to call again in a week.

  I returned to the main room, buoyed by talking to my sister, when the doors were opened. At first there were only a few who came in, unsure if we were really giving out food. Once the word spread there were more and more who arrived.

  Anna manned the front desk, wrote down the names, and gave each person a card for how many household members they had. Carolyn, and Kathy and I filled predetermined items and predetermined amounts into a bag or a box, much like they do at the Food Pantry at the thrift store in town. Yesterday, while I was at home, they had used those boxes of baggies and filled them with bulk items. Quarter pounds of sugar, half-pound of pasta, rice and salt, all of which came from the larger bags that didn’t go to the Stone Soup Kitchen. Everyone got a roll of toilet paper, a bar of soap and paper towels. There were a few complaints but the distribution went smoothly.

  I was happy to see Ken come in for their two bags. Karen was still coughing and didn’t want to spread her cold. Ken was trying to handle the bags one handed since his arm was still in a sling.

  “Let me put those in the car for you, Ken,” I offered. When I did so, he thanked me for sending Dawn over. I had seen her earlier, getting their share for the grandkids, and she hadn’t said anything about going there.

  “She changed our bandages like a pro, then she gave Karen a bottle of liquid cold medicine and I finally got some sleep.” He laughed then got serious. “This is all a good thing,” he nodded toward the building and the food giveaway. “How long do you think you can keep it up? How long before people get a bit of strength back and get mean again?”

  “I don’t know, Ken. We’ll keep it going as long as we can.” With an afterthought, I told him Pete was sleeping here partly to protect the food but mostly so he wouldn’t be in his empty house. “He will want to go home eventually, of course. While we have food to give away, this building will need protection.”

  * * *

  After three hours, we closed and locked the doors, putting a notice on the door that anyone who did not receive their share could come back at noon on Friday.

  When everyone went for their coats, I had to remind them to take a bag or box for themselves. Kathy needed two bags for she and Bob, and Anna was entitled to two for herself and her husband. Carolyn wasn’t going to take hers until I insisted. If she didn’t want it, she could give it to the kitchen. She took her share.

  “You have four people at home, you need to take yours,” Kathy said with her hands on now bony hips. I picked up an empty box and held it out to her. She filled it with the predetermined amount of items while Anna made notes that we each had taken our share this week. Satisfied, we shut the lights off and locked up. I offered Kathy a ride home and drove her the three blocks. Carrying the two bags of groceries wasn’t so bad, but she was still weak.

  * * *

  I backed the car into the barn and slogged through the fresh snow to the side door. The heat of the house, warmed by the woodstove, felt welcoming as I shed my coat and boots. I asked Jason to get the box of food out of the car for me.

  John had a scowl etched on his bearded face, wrinkles furrowed in his bald scalp. “Why did you take food? We don’t need any.”

  “I know we don’t need it. If I didn’t take it, then others would question that. They might suspect that we have a lot of our own supplies, which could put us in danger.” I still hadn’t told either of them about Harris. “Don’t worry,” I said, tugging playfully at his short beard, “I will either sneak it back into the supply room, or find someone to give it to.”

  * * *

  JOURNAL ENTRY: January 23

  Tomorrow when I go to the office, I’ve got to get some news. I haven’t a clue what’s going on in our country!

  * * *

  This morning I found out why John allowed me go to the office alone. Jason was behind it. They were both aware that the coffee was running low. That’s why I had switched to tea. Jason was more familiar with my storage than John was, and knew where he might find more. The morning of John’s birthday when I said I was tired of toast, Jason wanted to do something about it. He knew that I would never allow him to share precious eggs, which were sometimes Jacob’s only source of protein. He remembered items that I had forgotten about, like oatmeal.

  Last summer, he helped me inventory my long-term food shed, where I stored food that tolerated not only the heat of the summer, but also the freezing days of the winter. Food like the wheat berries, sugar, rice, beans and cereals like grits and oatmeal in sealed five gallon buckets. Also items like coffee. There were ten cans! I had forgotten what was in there, and my inventory list was on my silent computer. The shed was half buried in snow right now and it took both of them to dig it out enough to open the doors.

  For breakfast Jason fixed stea
ming bowls of oatmeal, sprinkled with dark brown sugar, also from a forgotten bucket. We each had a small glass of Tang and a full pot of coffee. I was very touched by their thoughtfulness.

  After breakfast, I went back to the office to see if I could find any news on the computer. Not knowing what filters or restrictions might be on the township owned computers, I took my laptop, and was glad I did, as the place was busy. I pulled out my wad of paper towels and disinfectant, sprayed my desk, chair, and wiped it all down. Others were forgetting we were still in an epidemic. I wonder how many of them would get re-infected from carelessness.

  I set up the laptop on my desk in my corner of Anna’s office. I still had the view of Fram’s store, and remembered watching the tanker of diesel. For a moment I wondered how that young man, Marie’s cousin, was doing, and if his son was well. I brushed them from my mind. I can help only so many. Right now, I needed to know what was going on in the world. I logged on using the local server.

  I was able to surf the internet for about twenty minutes, finding only local bits and pieces that had obviously been sanitized. A little spritz of cleaner and the news was all happy again. One article caught my attention—North Korea is preparing another long range missile test with the intent of hitting the U.S. This time they are threatening to arm it with a nuclear device. They could be trying for an EMP. That’s exactly what we don’t need, complete power loss!