APOCALYPSE LAW

by John Grit

  “Yep, I certainly will thank Mel if he comes back.”

  “All right smart aleck, finish up. We have another long day ahead of us.”

  Brian took two more bites of scrambled egg and a sip of coffee. “I’m done.”

  “Good. Get your pack.”

  * * *

  “Bear!” Brian watched a black bear run into thick brush.

  “It got one of the hams.” Nate checked the meat, still hanging from the pine tree. “He didn’t have time to get to the rest.”

  “I don’t know if I should be angry or thankful. That boar is not really fit to eat, judging by what the sow tastes like.”

  Nate’s expression revealed disappointment in Brian. “If you were the egg thief you wouldn’t be so choosy. People are starving.”

  “But we have Mel’s stuff.”

  “That won’t last forever. We must stretch it out as much as possible. Also, it’s not ours, even if he did say we could use it. Imagine if he comes back, thinking if he can just get back home he’ll be okay and have food waiting for him, and he learns we have used it all.”

  Brian stood frozen, looking inward, his face showing shock. “You mean this could be forever? It won’t get better and return to normal?”

  “Oh hell. Brian, it will get better as people rebuild. But it will never be like it was exactly, not in our lifetime. From what I’ve heard on the radio, including early on, when the governments were still putting out information, at least ninety percent of the world’s population has been killed by the sickness.”

  “We will never be able to go into town and buy food again? Never have power? Never have school or football or TV or computers or gas for the truck?”

  “Most of those things will come back in time.” The tone of Nate’s voice was not reassuring.

  “How long?” There was a look of total disillusionment on Brian’s face. “I’m not going to eat wild hog and deer the rest of my life.”

  “You know it’s not like that.” Nate stepped closer. “We have years’ worth of food at Mel’s, and we will have fresh vegetables again in a few months when we get to work in the field. We’ll have chicken when the hatchlings come in the spring and we stop eating all the eggs.”

  “We shouldn’t be giving eggs to that damn thief it we don’t have enough for ourselves.” Brian looked at his father, anger on his face. “You don’t tell me a damn thing! I’m sick of you lying to me. What do I have to live for, really? How am I going to have any kind of a life now? Am I supposed to just stay here on this farm forever and never have a life?” He turned and looked into the woods. “I wanted to go to college and join the Air Force and fly jetfighters and become an astronaut.”

  “Many of those dreams would have been left behind as you matured anyway. And many things you want out of life are still there waiting for you. There’s a government of some kind still…and a military. The schools will open again someday, maybe in a year or two. And the colleges. NASA will be restarted too.” His face hardened. “Now suck it up and stand straight and tall like you’ve been doing lately. You’re fast becoming a man, and I am proud to be your father. Especially lately.”

  Brian spun on his heels to face his father. “If you think I’m so great, why do you keep lying to me?”

  “I have been telling you more as…time allowed. I’ve been busy you know. Taking care of your mother and then your sister. Yes, it’s bad, but it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be. The worst thing is the loss of your mother and sister. If you can handle that, you can take the rest. Now show me you’re the kind of man I thought. Life is what it is, Brian. It’s up to you to make the best of it. We have it easy compared to many. Imagine what it’s like in town or a big city. The chaos and violence. My grandfather—your great-grandfather—grew up in the Depression in total poverty and then fought for years in World War II. He was wounded twice. Then he was sent back and died in Europe.” He gave Brian a stern look. “So stop whining.”

  Brian looked up at him. “Yeah, we’re having so much fun. I should be happy.”

  “Fun is a child’s word. You’re not a child anymore. Now let’s get this meat to the house. We need it. There are starving men who would kill for one ounce of it.”

  Brian was silent as he helped him load the meat in their packs and they set off for home.

  They said little on the second trip for more meat. Brian kept looking into the distance at nothing as he walked. Nate overloaded himself with a quarter and the spareribs. It was the last piece and he did not want to make an extra trip. Two thirds of the way home, he was forced to lighten his load and leave the spareribs hanging in a tree.

  “I’m glad you did that, Dad,” Brian said. “You had to bend over to carry it all. The ham alone must weight one hundred twenty pounds. With the ribs and some of the pork loin tied on the back, it was too much.”

  “Well, now I have to make another trip. More of the day will be used up, and we won’t have time to process much of the meat.”

  “I will can some while you’re gone.”

  “No. You grind sausage. Just use the tool to push it in and keep your fingers out of the grinder and be careful with the knife. Canning is an all-day job, especially with a wood stove.”

  “Yeah, I know: you’re afraid I’ll blow myself up. Or burn myself.”

  “Water in that pressure cooker is certainly hot and dangerous. But it takes hours to do much canning and there is tomorrow for that. We’re both going to be worn out when we hit the sack tonight as it is.”

  “What’ll we use all that canned pork for anyway?” Brian’s attitude seemed to be back to normal.

  “It can be used like any other canned meat. It can be put in stews, fried, even though it’s already cooked, whatever.”

  “At least it won’t be so tough anymore.”

  “Yep,” Nate said. “You can’t tell one meat from another once it’s been canned. Though you will know it’s not beef. You know: you’ve had canned venison.”

  “Venison burger’s not bad. The canned stuff is okay in soup…if you’re starving.”

  “Some people are. We can’t waste anything. And remember, there is no hospital to go get sowed up or broken bones set. Be very careful about preventing injuries. A small thing can turn into something serious.”

  “I know, I know.” Brian rolled his eyes.

  “Talk like that makes me wonder if you do.”

  Chapter 5

  The sun was not up yet, and it was fifteen degrees. It had snowed again, covering the ground with Florida sugar two inches deep. Nate walked into the house, holding a pail of eggs. “It is cold out there. I’ve never seen weather like this in my life. All the records were broken last winter and now those too have been broken. That is if there was someone around to worry about keeping records.”

  Brian rubbed his eyes and sat at the dining table. “Well. Has the thief been back?”

  “The eggs are gone and the ham and biscuits we left out.”

  “Then we’re going to track him?” Brian seemed excited about a chance to do something different.

  “After breakfast I am. You’re staying here with the doors and windows locked.”

  “Shit. I haven’t been out of this house in two days. It’s boring as hell.”

  “Sorry, that’s the way it’s going to be. We know nothing about this person other than he hasn’t done us any harm. Certainly, he’s going to be uncomfortable about me trailing him. He’s likely to shoot first and not bother to ask questions later.”

  “Is it worth the risk?” Brian got out of the chair and put more wood in the stove.

  “That’s a good question. But the fact is we need him if he’s trustworthy. There hasn’t been anyone around but him since those two men. But there will be sooner or later. We need another gun and farmhand.”

  “I thought you said people will be too weak from starvation to walk out here and the gas is running out.”

  Nate cracked eggs into a frying pan. “There might be a few that
make it this far. And they might be the kind to take what they want…after they kill us.”

  “So you want me to stay here with the shotgun while you go off and get killed yourself.” As he talked, Brian poured some water from a pail into a bowl in the sink and washed his hands in it.

  Nate turned from the stove and glared at Brian. “That’s not funny.”

  “I know it’s not. I didn’t mean it to be funny.” Brian glared back. “You admit it’s dangerous.”

  “Okay. Look. I’m the war vet here, and I think I’ve got a good chance of not getting myself killed. I’ve trailed better trained and armed people than this guy. And I’m your father. That means I’m the boss.”

  “You don’t know.”

  “I know I’m your father.” The tone of Nate’s voice was calculated to let Brian know he was treading on thin ice. “And I am the boss around here. Fathers being the boss of their children is an old tradition. It’s part of what a family is, and families are the building blocks of society. It’s why God made fathers bigger than their children.”

  “I meant you don’t know how dangerous he is. He might be some kind of Special Forces guy who went nuts and lives in the woods like a foamy-mouthed animal.”

  “Come on.” Nate shook his head. “Your imagination is something. He seems to be going out of his way to not have a confrontation with us. He has not tried to harm us so far in any way, not even property damage. And I know he is good at surviving in the woods. I also know he’s desperate, or he would never have come here. And he damn sure never would have kept coming back for our handouts. It could easily have been a trap.”

  “Yeah. We could have waited up and shot him like he was some kind of chicken thief.”

  Nate chuckled under his breath.

  Brian enjoyed being a smart-mouth. Maybe it was a stage he was growing through. Usually his quips were amusing, sometimes even funny. Occasionally they were irreverent. But Brian knew there was a line that he could not cross without repercussions. Allowing Brian to be outwardly disrespectful would do harm not to the father, but the son. Nate never needed to control his children with fear; he used what he learned from his own father and his time in the military. If you want to receive respect, you first must teach them the meaning and value of respect by giving it to everyone in the family, including the children. Honor and respect is valued in the military, he saw no reason why that should change in civilian life.

  “He only took eggs,” Nate said. “Though he could have taken chickens before I locked the coop, but he didn’t. Get the plates out while I cook. I want to be out there and trailing him as soon as I can see tracks.”

  “Eggs and wild hog again.”

  * * *

  He was a smart one. Nate knew that already. Trailing this guy is slow going. A blanket of snow on everything and still he is able to get down into the wet and leave no tracks. Poor bastard’s boots must be full of ice water.

  Nate decided to go around behind the bayou and find where he came out. An hour and a half later, he began to think he was still in the water somewhere. There were no tracks. At least none he had been able to come across.

  As the sun rose over the treetops, the wind picked up. It was blowing in his face. Little ice picks were pricking his nose and ears. It was probably still below twenty, and he couldn’t move fast enough to keep his body heat up. Not if he wanted to sneak up on this…egg thief. And not if he was to have a chance of finding his trail again.

  He thought he smelled something. Smoke, hickory or oak. He stood and finally decided it was definitely hickory. Cooking. Or drying and warming his feet maybe. There’s an island in that bayou, full of moccasins. Been there when I was a kid, hunting squirrels. He searched the far side of water, peering through the scrim of trees. I don’t want to be wading in that in this cold. Snakes won’t be a problem though. Damn it! I’ll run back home and get waders. No. To hell with it. We left that sign before, then a note, asking why he doesn’t introduce himself. We’ll just write another note. If he still won’t talk to us, I’ll wait up for him some night.

  He shivered in the cold and headed home.

  Nate stood at the back door. “Brian. Open up. He’s in the Half Mile Bayou. That island I told you about.” He heard Brian taking the steel bar down and working the locks.

  Brian had a smile on his face when he opened the door. “Outsmarted you, huh?”

  Nate locked the door behind him, savoring the warmth of the house and the aroma of bread baking in the oven. “You could say that. But it’s more like he out-toughed me. I did not want to go wading in that ice water. We’ll leave another note. If that doesn’t do it, I’ll waylay him some night when he shows to grab more food.”

  “Could be dangerous. You might have to kill him. He could start shooting.”

  “All true. I plan to be careful.”

  “I thought you were going to say that was good thinking.” Brian had his mischievous smile on.

  “Thinking things through before acting always is.”

  * * *

  Brian looked in the wire box. “Food’s still there. He hasn’t been back in four days now.”

  “Damn it,” Nate said. “Take it inside. We’ll have those eggs, biscuits, and ham for breakfast.”

  Brian unlatched the door and pulled the food out. “Might as well stop leaving it.”

  “He’ll come back. If he has not left the area. Hunger will drive him back.”

  They went inside the house and took their coats off.

  “What do you think happened?” Brian asked.

  “I know what happened. He knew I tracked him that morning. And he realizes I know where he’s been hiding. That shook him. For some reason he still does not trust us. Yet he eats our food.”

  “Hell, we could have poisoned him if we wanted to hurt him.” Brian grabbed a frying pan.

  “He knows that. But hunger is a powerful force. For some reason he trusts us but only so far. Must be a reason for it, but I have no idea what it is.” Nate got the coffee out of a cupboard. There was not much left, but he found another jar.

  “Maybe he’s mental or something,” Brian said, just thinking out loud.

  “Retarded? Crazy? No. He’s just very careful…when he can be. If he was not starving, there is no way he would come within a mile of us. This guy is woods-wise, maybe military. He damn sure knew I trailed him. That means he checked his back trail sometime after I went home and found my tracks in the snow. I doubt he saw me. If he did, he’s damn good and definitely military. And I mean elite military. My training isn’t that rusty. And I’ve lived in these woods all my life. It snowed that night, so he checked his back trail before that. This guy is smart. And if he did see me, that means he could have shot me.”

  Brian gave his father a worried look. “What’s the point in worrying about him? We have wasted enough time. Why the risk?”

  Nate stood at the stove and sipped coffee. He savored it, knowing it may be the last jar. “Like I told you, we need help around here. We will just keep putting the food out, and if he starts coming back I will wait up nights in the barn. In the meantime, I will write another note and apologize for trailing him and explain we want to offer him a place to stay.”

  “Maybe he can’t read.” Brian sat at the table.

  “Oh come on. He took the notes.” Nate’s eyes lit up. “Damn it. Why didn’t I leave a pencil for him? I will ask him why he’s afraid of us. Hopefully he will leave an answer on the note.”

  “Seems like we have gone through a lot of trouble for some stranger who is not grateful for our charity. I don’t see where he’s worth it.” Brian walked to the stove to get hot water for coffee.

  “Hasn’t been much trouble yet,” Nate said. “He didn’t ask me to trail him, you know. The tricky part is when we meet face-to-face. Now that could be trouble.”

  “You got that right.”

  “Well, let’s eat. We have work to do.”

  * * *

  “I was wondering what you want
ed the ladder for.” Brian watched his father brush snow off their solar power array on the roof of the house with a broom. He was on a stepladder, but still having trouble reaching the far ends of the panels.

  “I want to recharge that spotlight and some other batteries. And we might need to shoot at night. So I want to make sure I’ve got batteries for the Aimpoint on my M14. We’ll run out of kerosene faster if we don’t start using the twelve volt lights more and the lamps less. We have this small solar system, might as well use it to its fullest capacity. We’re going to have to get better at conserving everything. From now on, we throw nothing away and waste nothing.”

  “We’re living pretty damn low already, Dad. All we do is work. And we’re eating wild hog every day, even though there’s good food at Mel’s. We don’t even listen to the shortwave ‘cause you’re afraid I might hear something that will depress me. Like I don’t have anything to bitch about already and I’m just a kid who can’t handle anything.”

  Nate got down from the ladder. “I’m glad you don’t bitch and complain. That could be tiresome.”

  “I wasn’t bitching. I am tired of that shoe-leather hog though.”

  “What we didn’t can will spoil when it gets hot, so we need to eat it now. Remember, we can’t waste anything.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Brian smiled. “I wonder how long before I’ll have boar bristles coming out of my face like you.”

  Nate rasped his callused hands against his stubble. “That’s not from eating hog. You’ll be shaving in a couple more years. Once a week anyway.”

  “You growing a beard?”

  “Just haven’t shaved in a couple days. Probably cut it off tonight, if I have time.”

  “Makes you look like a bum.” Brian smiled.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Nice way to talk to your father.”

  “I apologize. I shouldn’t have said you’re welcome that was too polite.”