The Journal: Cracked Earth

by Deborah D. Moore

  Another news clip was on the widespread nature of the flu epidemic. Officials were urging everyone to get their flu shot— isn’t that a bit late?— and to cover their mouths when coughing. Oh, good grief. People are dying and they don’t want to talk about it.

  Rick in Wisconsin emailed me about the new trucking routes that were being established around the fault, up through Canada! The most used route is now across the west to I-29 up to Winnipeg, across Ontario, with routes cutting off down through Duluth, Sault Ste. Marie, and Toledo, the main crossing point to get supplies of food to the East Coast and Washington, D.C.

  The next email was from Ken in Texas. Our government has pulled all troops from the Mexican border in order to keep peace in the major cities. Now the Texas Patriots are manning the crossing and patrolling the border, and are doing a better job of it. Something troubled me. I did a quick search on “peace in major cities”. Virtually every major city east of the fault line is under martial law and is in twenty-four hour lockdown. Every city with a population over 100,000 is under martial law, but not locked down. The Upper Peninsula has escaped this, since it falls under the category “as needed”. The largest city is Marquette, and has a population of slightly over 21,000. From what Tom told me, there are curfews and travel restrictions, yet so far, no martial law.

  I closed the laptop after saving a few things to read later. Yesterday, before he “let” me venture out on my own, John asked me to wear a watch and to promise to never be gone past 4:00 P.M., unless prearranged. How can I argue with someone who cares so much about me? It was 3:35 P.M. and I wanted to go home. My head was spinning from all of the news.

  * * *

  At home I put together a batch of pita bread. It was be a great way to have Jacob’s sprouts, which were now ready to eat. Fresh greens, live food, and the most nutritious thing we can eat. The warm bread stuffed with the sprouts and a drizzle of salad dressing was wonderful. Jacob wouldn’t eat them, of course, and had a grilled cheese instead.

  * * *

  JOURNAL ENTRY: January 25

  This morning I woke to more howling winds and a ferocious snowstorm outside. It was just sunny yesterday! What a cruel reminder that our weather can change literally overnight.

  One of the things that I downloaded but didn’t read yesterday was a listing for local ham radio operators. Perhaps there is someone local that can shed some light on the news. That will have to wait until I get back to town or we can run the generator to power the laptop.

  There was something that was in the back of my mind all night about the news that I read. It occurred to me this morning that there was no mention of the New Madrid Fault quakes. None. The news has shifted back to the hurricane victims, and the upcoming Super Bowl. What a strange country we live in, where a sporting event takes precedence over a major, multi-state disaster.

  * * *

  Jacob had his usual scrambled eggs for breakfast plus a glass of Tang. The three of us have agreed that since Jacob has taken to the new taste, it will be his. We can take vitamins instead. Vitamins are something I hadn’t given a great deal of thought, so while the storm raged outside, the three of us did an inventory.

  I’m disappointed. The tub that I marked as “vitamins/medical” was half-filled with the overflow of band aids & bandages. This is all we have:

  3- Nasal spray

  7- Bottles of allergy pills

  2- Bottles of Ibuprofen- nighttime

  1000 tablets of aspirin

  1000 tablets of Ibuprofen

  1-child liquid cold medicine

  1-adult liquid cold medicine

  1 bottle of eye drops

  4 bottles of multi-vitamins, 890 tablets

  2-D3, 200 tablets

  ½ bottle of garlic tablets

  * * *

  We also have single bottles of lysine, calcium, magnesium, zinc, fish oil, B complex, plus various odd stuff. I really fell short on this. Calculating it out, the three of us have less than a year of vitamins if taken once a day. I should have done more. I’m saddened by my failure in this area.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  I don’t remember a snowier winter. The weather is relentless. Another foot of snow fell yesterday, and it’s still coming down.

  Jason trudged his way to the barn to feed and water the chickens, and collect the few eggs. While in the barn, he found the tub I had marked “office supplies”, which are really school supplies with blank notebooks, ruled paper, pencils, crayons, rulers, protractors and odd stuff I found. Most were on sale from the beginning of the school year. He was interested in the notebooks so Jacob could practice his writing and spelling with a few lines to do math. I forgot about the flash cards that I had put in there. Jacob is a bit beyond them, but it’s still good practice.

  * * *

  JOURNAL ENTRY: January 26

  We may have to run the generator even though it’s still snowing hard. The water supply is getting low and we all need showers. I’m going to do a load or two of laundry too, and get it drying on the wooden racks. I’ve been doing dishes by heating water on the stove like I used to, tedious and functional. I suppose we could take showers the same way with the bucket system I’ve got stashed in the barn, though we still need water to do that.

  There’s been so much going on in our lives with day to day living and surviving, we’ve forgotten to have some fun occasionally, so John and I spent an hour playing cribbage this afternoon. I’ve always enjoyed playing cards and board games, but it’s been so long since I’ve had a partner. When looking for the cribbage board, I also found the dominoes, and the Obilqo block game. Now that game is going to be interesting, with Jason so meticulous and John an engineer. There are a few jigsaw puzzles in the back room, and somewhere in the barn is a box full!

  * * *

  Jason sat down at the table with me while I was sorting jigsaw pieces.

  “Mom, before Amanda left again, she said something that I’ve been meaning to ask you about.”

  “What’s that?”

  “She said ‘tell your mother not to come after me again’. What did she mean?”

  I looked away for a moment. How do I tell my son I interfered? With the truth, I guess.

  “I know you had told me not to, but I made some inquiries the last time she left.” I briefly closed my eyes, sighed and dropped the puzzle piece. “I only wanted to know she was okay, Jason. I have no idea what happened, then suddenly she was back. When all of you were here for Christmas, I asked her what happened, but she wouldn’t tell me. Do you know?”

  He leaned back in his chair and ran his hands over his face. “Yeah, I know.” He was quiet a long time. “She was staying with Lori, obeying the curfews. One day when she went to see her daughter, she was pulled over. They put her in the detention center for three days. They gave her car back and told her to go home. The detention center is not a nice place, Mom.” He looked down and frowned at the thought.

  “Oh, Jason, I’m so sorry. I didn’t ask for her to be sent back. I just wanted to know that she was okay. The request obviously got misunderstood. I won’t ask again, I promise.”

  * * *

  JOURNAL ENTRY: January 26

  It’s 10:00pm as I write, and it looks like the snow is finally easing up.

  * * *

  I was surprised when John said that he wanted to go to church today. I agreed to go only if we sat in back. Considering this was the first Sunday after the food bank opened, it didn’t surprise me that the sermon was the feeding of the masses on a few fish and a loaf of bread. We even stayed for the long social hour afterward.

  In the last couple of days, the ladies of the now non-denominational church have been baking rolls or bread daily to go with the meal. A few loaves were baked and sliced to give to those who asked for some to take home. The meals have expanded too. Now there are canned beef or chicken stews over rice or noodles, chili and meatless spaghetti instead of the thin soups they had before. I asked Carolyn about the meat shortage. With all t
he snow we’ve had, the deer have disappeared back into the swamps, and hunting has come to a halt.

  The congregation is down by about half. Some people are still sick with the flu, other members are afraid to come into contact with others, while a few have died. We probably won’t have a true count until spring.

  I was surprised to hear the generator running when we got home.

  “I promised Jacob that if he did all of his math problems, he could watch his cartoons for an hour,” Jason explained when I asked him why it was on.

  “Cartoons? Are you doing anything else? Laundry or dishes or showers?”

  “I did the dishes, nothing else. Why?”

  “Shut the damn thing off!” I lost it. “Look, I stored two drums of gas, that’s only 110 gallons. The generator uses one gallon every two hours. Two hours! If we run the generator only two hours every day, that’s not even four months of use. Every other day, it’s six months. The gas also goes for the snow blower, and come spring the chainsaw and log splitter! We do not have enough gas to just be watching cartoons.” I turned back into the kitchen, angry. I was mostly angry at myself for being angry, but also angry at the world for putting us in this situation. I sat down at the table, my head in my hands. I could hear Jacob crying, and I felt even worse.

  “Mom, we’ll get more gas,” Jason said.

  “You don’t know that. You don’t know if we’ll ever get more gas! What is out in the barn may be all we ever have! And that will have to be rationed for our very survival!”

  John placed his hand on my back and made a small, soft circle, rubbing between my shoulder blades. Then I heard him set something down. He’d gotten some ice from outside, and poured me two fingers of spiced rum. It didn’t seem to matter that it was only 3:00 P.M. I took a sip and felt it burn all the way down. The second sip was better. I looked up to see him smiling while the tears rolled silently down my face.

  “I should apologize,” I mumbled.

  “No, Allex, you are right. Jason was wrong. Do not apologize for being right.”

  He sat down next to me and took a sip from my glass. “Eeew! You really like that stuff?” He made a face, which made me laugh.

  “I could have handled it better,” I sniffed. He handed me a tissue.

  “Maybe, but there’s no question in Jason’s mind now how you feel about this. I think you made a big impact, one that he’s not likely to forget.”

  Jacob came into the room then and ran into my arms.

  “I’m sorry, Nahna. I love you,” he whimpered, hugging me tightly.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Jason was up early to clear the driveway from the latest snowfall, which seems to be a nightly occurrence. While he was doing that, he also made a trail for Jacob to run for exercise. It’s like a maze, with lots of turns and twists, all built into the massive snow banks in the side yard. In two spots, he created short tunnels for his son to crawl through. Jacob loved it and was running through the maze, having lots of fun while Jason was doing hand work with the shovel.

  John was watching them from the window while I was making bread when suddenly he tore open the door and ran outside screaming for Jason. Jacob had just gone into the longer of the two tunnels near the center of the maze when it collapsed! The guys jumped the walls where they could and busted through where they couldn’t, digging with their bare hands. When they finally got close enough, John grabbed Jacob’s feet and pulled him out from under the snow. He wasn’t breathing. I knew that John had been in several underground mine cave-ins, and that his crews were all trained in CPR. John immediately gave Jacob a couple of breaths, and Jacob started coughing.

  * * *

  I was so scared and so helpless. Jason sat for the longest time in the rocker with Jacob on his lap, just rocking him, holding him and crying. He almost lost his only child. Jacob was unsure why his daddy was so upset, but understood that he was, so quietly held on. It looked like he was the one trying to do the comforting.

  John went back outside and broke down both tunnels, then cleaned up the paths. Later he said that there was no reason why Jacob couldn’t still run the maze, but the tunnels were a bad idea.

  * * *

  “John! Wake up! What’s wrong?” I gently shook John, then more forcefully when he didn’t respond. Suddenly he sat up and gasped for breath. His clear blue eyes were clouded with a distant memory and he was trembling.

  “John?” I prodded, kneeling on the bed beside him, afraid to touch him. Nightmares can have violent consequences. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

  “I was back in the mine,” he said with his eyes still closed. “The rocks overhead started crumbling down on us. Some of the men were running for the portal. Others were already buried under white rock. All of them were screaming, and I was stuck in the whiteness up to my knees, unable to move and unable to help.” He took another deep breath, shuddered again, and the trembling stopped. I tentatively put my hands on his shoulders and started to massage the tension out.

  “I haven’t had a dream like that in a long time,” John confessed. “It must have been the incident with Jacob yesterday that triggered it.” He turned to me and gave me a sad smile. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

  The pre-dawn air chilled our skin and we slid back under the covers. We held each other for a long time. When John finally fell back asleep, I slipped out of the bed to light a fire in the woodstove.

  * * *

  “Allexa, do you have any baking soda?” Dawn asked when she stopped over this morning. “I need some for a rehydration and electrolyte formula for the flu victims.”

  “I thought you might be making biscuits,” I teased, knowing Dawn’s lack of baking skills. I got a thirty-six ounce container and gave it to her.

  “I understand now why Kathleen always came here first if she needed something and couldn’t get to town,” she mused.

  I couldn’t help but laugh. That was different. Kathy always wanted herbs or something gourmet like a vanilla bean or saffron.

  “What formula are you using, Dawn?” I asked. I had one from a nurse friend and wanted to see if they were the same.

  “Well, for electrolytes: three-fourths teaspoon salt, one teaspoon baking soda, four tablespoons sugar, three-fourths quarts of water, and one cup of juice, or all water. And for rehydration: one pint water, one teaspoon salt, and one quarter teaspoon baking soda,” she replied. “So, is there something you want to barter for this?” Dawn asked, holding the container of baking soda.

  “Just use it wisely,” I said, slightly offended by her question.

  * * *

  “Jacob is fine, Jason. The cave-in was an accident and it was caught immediately. You’re making everybody nervous with your hovering so, please, back off.”

  “Mom, he almost died because of me,” Jason said with distress.

  “But he didn’t! Take this as a learning experience,” I said taking his hands in mine, “for you. You’re such a good father, but you need to see the different shades of the picture. All of the what-ifs that seem to go more with a mother’s view. I know I use to drive myself crazy removing all the potential what-ifs dangers from yours and Eric’s life. I learned to temper that, by focusing on the most potentially disastrous and removing that. Instead of being fearful, be grateful, Jason.”

  “Grateful? That he almost died?” he asked, like he hadn’t heard a word I said.

  “No, grateful that he lived. You have the opportunity to learn firsthand the consequences of certain actions. Learn it! Don’t let this accident go to waste! Be watchful but don’t smother him.”

  * * *

  Anna managed to collate a census from the food pantry activity. Going by these numbers, we have fifty-two people still in Moose Creek, and maybe that many more out in the woods. So there are barely over one hundred people left in the township, out of nearly eight hundred. We’ve had almost twenty-five deaths, so that leaves over six hundred residents that have left. At least I will now have a more accurate numbe
r when I have to go back and beg for more food, knowing I will have to do that soon. I looked at the tables of the dwindling food supplies and wondered how long this will last those fifty-two people. Two weeks? Maybe three? Then it will be back to Marquette, and back to pleading for my town.

  What are we going to do when those six hundred people start returning? At least they won’t want to come back until spring. Maybe, just maybe, things will be back to normal by then, or semi-normal, or partially normal, or some sort of normal.

  Who said normal is just a setting on the dryer?

  * * *

  “I meant to tell you yesterday that I emptied that first row of wood in the woodshed,” John said over coffee.

  “That’s good to know. We are right on schedule.” I explained how I had calculated my usage, and that each row inside the shed should last one month. Our wood was in great shape. Kindling was holding up too. This made me think we need to do a mid-winter inventory. I had Jason check the gas level, the chainsaw supplies in the barn, and the chickens’ feed. I had John help me in the pantries. Mid-afternoon we had a conference to share data.