APOCALYPSE LAW

by John Grit

  The man nodded. “If you are really helping, I thank you. All of us are starving.”

  “I noticed. The boy won’t last much longer before he is past the point of no return without a stay in a hospital. And we both know that’s not going to happen. Let me help.”

  They walked to the camp. The girl screamed when she saw Nate. The woman grabbed a butcher knife and kept her children behind her, eyes wild with hate and fear. The little boy peered from around her hips, first one side and then the other, wild-eyed and shivering. All that was keeping the starvation weakened boy on his feet was abject terror.

  Nate knew she would kill him if he let her get close enough with that knife. “Stay where you are. I’m not going to hurt anyone.”

  Her husband put his hands up. “It’s okay! Drop the knife. He just wants to give us food.”

  “No way!” She said. “People don’t give anything away anymore. He’s lying.”

  Nate leaned the shotgun against a magnolia tree twenty feet from her, keeping his rifle ready and hoping he would not have to use it. “I’m going to take your husband to food. He will be gone about ten, fifteen minutes. Careful you don’t shoot him when he comes back.”

  “I believe him. Stay here with the kids.” The father’s demeanor seemed to calm the mother somewhat.

  Nate kept his eyes on all of them as he backed into the woods, the man off to his side.

  “Where did you come from?” The man asked several minutes later as they walked.

  “Our farm’s not far from here. We’ve had so much trouble lately we left it.”

  The man stopped walking and turned to face him. “If you’re abandoning it, maybe you will let us stay there.”

  “There isn’t much left but shelter, a cow and some chickens.”

  The man’s jaw dropped. “There are people out there who would kill you for just one egg. And you’re leaving that?”

  “It’s too dangerous to stay,” Nate said. “We have three good shooters. Two of us are ex-military. But we need more security to be safe there and work the farm.”

  “My wife and I can shoot well enough. We’ve both had to kill lately. My girl can stand watch as eyes and ears at least, and we’re all hard workers. I mean, when we’re not starving. Do you have what’s needed to plant a crop?”

  Nate felt new hope surge into him. He cocked his head, his eyes lighting up. “Yes.”

  “I assume your farm can produce enough food to feed us all.”

  “Easily,” Nate said. “If someone doesn’t come and kill us to take it.”

  The man smiled for the first time. “We’re city people but we can work. I was in construction, mostly carpentry, but I can do just about anything that needs doing in construction. And we have toughened up a lot since everything went to hell. Just show us how to farm and we’ll work from sunup to dark.”

  Nate said nothing more until they got to the canoe. “I tell you what, now it’s your turn to prove to me you’re trustworthy. When you’re through recovering enough after a few meals, go upslope until you’re out of the swamp. Just stay on the edge of the river valley and keep heading downriver and you’ll come to my place. The field is way too large to miss, and you can see the house up on the hill. Can’t miss it. It’s got a tractor sticking halfway in the front.”

  The man looked puzzled.

  “It’s a long story. Like I said, we’ve had trouble too. The sickness took my wife and little girl, but my son and a friend are still alive.”

  “Sorry to hear that. For some reason we’ve had no problem with the plague at all; none of us have gotten sick. The trouble we’ve had is the crazies taking advantage of the chaos and the fact there is no food or much of anything else. We have money still, but all the looted stores are bare. And the gas stations have been drained dry by thieves who got the gas out of the underground tanks someway, so we had to abandon our car. Many stations burned down, whether by accident or arson, I don’t know. Probably some of both. There is no power for the pumps, and the stations, like the stores, are closed anyway. There is no economy at all, and money is worthless. I haven’t seen a cop in months, and you know what the result is.”

  Nate gave the man Shingle’s backpack full of food. “That will hold you for a few days. You can stay at our place. It’s kind of a mess, but it’ll be a lot better for your family than camping in the woods. There’s feed for the livestock. Take care of them and clean the house up a little. When we come to check, if you haven’t killed the chickens and cow or taken anything but eggs, and used, but not abused, what little we left there, you will have taken a step towards earning our trust.”

  The man’s eyes lit up. “Sounds like a deal. Together, both our families have a much better chance of surviving.”

  “I’m sure you can figure out how to milk a cow,” Nate said. “Just remember to clean her udder first. You will contaminate the milk if you don’t. There’s a special soap in the barn for that. Clean the pail too.”

  “Thanks. My kids can use the milk.”

  “I will see you in two days. Keep that shotgun handy and stay alert. As far as I know, there’s no one around at the moment, but we’ve had some come upriver from town and shoot my son, among other things. So be careful.”

  “We know about careful.”

  Nate smiled. “I noticed that. Better get back. Your family is worried.”

  “Yeah. Thanks for the food.” He walked into the brush and disappeared.

  Up ahead, the river branched and then reformed into one channel again. Nate paddled for the far side, keeping the island between him and the family as he went by. They were not the only ones experience had taught not to trust strangers. He would be an easy shot in that canoe, and he did not trust them completely yet.

  Just perhaps, a friendship, a bond of trust, could be forged, and together, they could live on the farm and raise enough food for them all. Mel’s supplies could keep them going if a crop failed or they could not work the field enough because of danger from marauders. They could repair the wall and there was enough steel plate and gas for the torch to make bullet resistant shutters to replace the wood ones. There might even be enough to make up a steel door or two. They could teach the girl to shoot and that would make six guns in a fight, enough to cover all sides of the house. Two standing watch would give them eight-hour shifts when there was no immediate danger.

  Nate laughed at himself. Don’t get carried away. We will have to see. But just maybe…

  His heart swelled with renewed hope for Brian. The closer he paddled to Mel’s retreat, the more he wanted to see him, wanted to tell him he was sorry. He wondered if Brian understood, if he would forgive him. He paddled faster. Maybe he could make it before dark.

  The following is the story of Nate William’s grandparents as told to him by his father. This is a short story related to the novel.

  A REVOLUTION CALLED OFF

  BY

  John Grit

  The middle-aged man’s forehead beaded with sweat, though the afternoon temperature was in the midfifties. “It’s warm for Montana this late in the year, isn’t it?” He took a handkerchief out of a back pocket and wiped his face. “Mr. Williams, you’re growing too much wheat. And you know it’s a violation. If you don’t destroy ten acres by next Saturday, I’ll have to send some boys out here to do it. And…I’ll have to fine you.”

  Jake Williams towered over him. His massive hands opened and closed, forming two hammers.

  “I…I’m giving you a chance to get right with the law because of you being a wounded veteran and all.”

  Jake was silent for some eternal number of seconds. His chest rose and fell. His face was hard but calm. Then Jake’s voice snapped the man straight. “First you trespass on my land while I’m at Sunday church with my wife, next you threaten to destroy my property and steal my money.” Jake stepped closer. “Get off my land and don’t come back.”

  The man rushed to his car and stopped with his hand on the door handle. “It’s the law. It’
s no use you fighting it. You have exceeded your wheat quota and must—”

  Jake took a step closer. “Leave. And don’t come back or send anyone else out here.”

  The man barely got seated before he had the engine roaring and tires spinning, throwing dirt as he sped down the driveway.

  “Who was that?” Jake’s wife yelled from the kitchen window.

  Jake’s face suddenly softened. “He’s from the government. Says I’m violating the wheat quota Roosevelt dreamed up some years ago. It was supposed to get us out of the Depression, or some such nonsense.”

  “You mean they can do that? Tell us how much feed we can grow on our own land? Wheat we need to feed our livestock?”

  “Only if people let them. You start lunch yet?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I’ll be in the barn working.”

  “Change out of your church clothes first.”

  “I won’t get them dirty, Cath.”

  She started to say something, but he walked off to the barn.

  Jake went straight to the back where he had a six-by-eight foot room he called his office. At one end was a small desk. At the other was a large beat-up old trunk. He stood on his toes and reached up over the top of a rafter and took down a key, then unlocked the trunk and swung the top open. There was a shoe box full of photos and letters.

  He sat down at the desk and put the box in front of him. After removing seven envelopes, he pulled a letter out of one and read it.

  Hey Jake. I hope this reaches you before you ship back to the States. I hear you caught one too. Thank God you didn’t get it as bad as me. The boys wrote and said you’ll be fine. I’m glad for you. You’ll be sent home for a while though. That’s what they said in their letters anyway. When you get back look me up. You know where I’ll be.

  And Jake, why haven’t you written? I know. God damn it. It was not your fault. I’ll be walking on pegs the rest of my life, but I’m alive.

  You won’t believe it, but I just got married a few weeks back. I remember you always bragging on your Cathy. Well, no offense, but I bet my Dora is prettier! We’re happy. And the scars and legs don’t bother her at all. I have you to thank for the life Dora and I are looking forward to.

  If you ever need a peg-legged lawyer you got one, no charge. I’m not that busy right now anyway. My practice will take a while to grow after me being over there nine months and then the year of recovery. Anyway, I wish you would write or call.

  Take care of yourself, and let’s pray the war is won before they send you back into that hell.

  Jake swallowed hard and copied his friend’s phone number from the letter on a piece of paper torn from a Sears catalog on the desk. After looking at a photo of a dozen men in dirty uniforms lined up and smiling with beard-shadowed faces for a few seconds, he put everything back in the trunk and locked it. He put the paper with his friend’s phone number in his shirt pocket.

  Cathy turned from the stove and looked Jake over when he walked into the kitchen. “Well, you didn’t get your clothes dirty. How about that?” She went back to her cooking.

  He rushed over, wrapped his arms around her from behind, and kissed her on the neck. “How about that?”

  She kept a straight face. “How about what?”

  He let her go and washed his hands in the sink. “I need to go to the supply store tomorrow, so I’ll be getting up earlier than normal to get the chores done before I go.”

  “We just went day before yesterday.”

  “I want to call Tom, see how he’s doing.”

  Cathy stopped short and turned to him. “Well. That’ll probably be good for both of you.”

  Jake’s chest rose and fell as he stood there looking at her. “Well, woman, are you going to let me starve? You’ll never finish standing there looking pretty.”

  “If you get busy on the salad everything else will be done by the time you’re through.”

  * * *

  Jake hesitated before lifting the earphone.

  “What now? We went all this way to use Sam’s phone, now call him,” Cathy said.

  “There are things you don’t know.”

  “That’s because you won’t tell me.”

  “Things you shouldn’t know.”

  “Oh? Are you ashamed of what happened over there?”

  “Of course not.”

  She brushed his hand lightly with hers. “Never mind me. It’s none of my business. I think you should just call him though.”

  “Why don’t you go have a look around while I do?”

  She stifled a laugh. “At what? The feed sacks? The shovels? How about the rolls of barbwire?”

  He just stood there and looked away, saying nothing.

  “I’ll wait in the truck.”

  When he walked out of the farm supply store she met him halfway. He put his massive arms around her and held her tight.

  “He’s coming here,” Jake said.

  He’s coming to visit?”

  “I asked him to.”

  “Good.”

  “He’s bringing his wife. Wants to see if you’re as pretty as her.”

  “I don’t know as I like that. I’m no prize pig at the county fair, you know.”

  “Of course not. He doesn’t mean any disrespect.” Jake pulled away and turned from her to blow his nose on a handkerchief.

  Her eyes watered. “When will they be here?”

  “In a few days. He’s dropping everything and bringing his associate with him.”

  “Associate?”

  He turned and faced her. “I asked him for help.”

  “You mean that wheat quota nonsense is that bad? So bad you need a lawyer?”

  “Not yet.”

  “If you don’t start telling me what’s going on, you and I are going to have a disagreement.”

  “I’m not going to give into them, Cath. It’s a little thing now, but it will escalate and get…Let’s go home. I don’t want to talk about it here.”

  * * *

  Jake glanced at Cathy, sighed, and took another sip of coffee. “I appreciate you helping out on this, Tom.”

  Tom sat on a couch next to Dora and looked over the notice the man from the U.S. Department of Agriculture gave Jake.

  Tom looked up. “Well, there it is: You are in violation of the Second Agricultural Adjustment Act of 1938. The evidence is that wheat out there. The guy is actually cutting you some slack. He doesn’t have to give you a chance to plow the wheat under. He could have the wheat destroyed and you fined now. Either he’s a decent man or he’s afraid of you.”

  Cathy’s eyes flitted from Tom to Jake. “He is not such a decent man, so it must be the later. He relishes his power over us little farmers.”

  “I only have until tomorrow anyway,” Jake said.

  “If I were you I would get out there and start plowing right now,” Tom said. “You have about two hours before dark. Maybe you can ask a neighbor to bring his tractor and help you.”

  Jake shook his head slightly. “No. It’s my land and my wheat and my sweat and Cathy’s. If a man can’t raise food to feed himself and his family on his own land, what are we fighting in Europe for?”

  “You can’t win. I didn’t even bother to bring my associate after I researched case history on this law. There was a Supreme Court ruling less than two years ago, and the law was upheld and even strengthened. The era of constitutionally limited federal government is over. They can regulate anything and everything under the Interstate Commerce Clause. And I mean every part of your life, not just commerce. In fact, the ruling states that no commerce has to take place to fall under the Commerce Clause. Wickard v. Filburn, 317 U.S. 111 (1942). Filburn was the farmer.”

  “Who was Wickard?” Cathy asked.

  Tom smiled. “The Secretary of the U.S. Department of Agriculture.”

  “What will happen if he doesn’t destroy the wheat?” Cathy clasped her hands tightly.

  “They will send people out here to plow it under,
and you will be fined. It will be a hefty amount.”

  Jake spoke up. “That won’t happen. They’re not getting on my land again. And I’m not paying any fine. I’m all appreciative of the president’s efforts to get us out of the Depression and through this war, but Roosevelt isn’t God. And it was God that endowed all human beings with immutable rights. No government should be allowed to change that. This is our land. And what’s on it is ours too. We work this land and it feeds us. We never asked for a thing from the government. And we ask for nothing now but to be left alone.”

  A wave of realization came over Tom’s face. “I know what’s on your mind, Jake, and I won’t have any part of it.”

  “I never asked you to.”

  “You asked me for help.”

  “Yes, legal help. I do my own bleeding.”

  Cathy jumped out of her chair. “What are you talking about?”

  Jake said nothing.

  She turned to Tom. “You know what’s happening. Tell me.”

  “I’m afraid he’s going to get himself killed.”

  “What! The government is going to kill him over wheat?”

  “No. Because of the same mule-headed stubborn streak in him that kept us alive over there. There were times when I think the enemy couldn’t kill him because he simply was too stubborn to give them the satisfaction. Now he…” Tom noticed her face.

  Dora, who had been sitting quietly until now, got up and put her left arm over Cathy’s shoulders. “Nobody’s killing anyone. You know how war veterans are, always talking rough.”

  Jake stood. “Cath, I won’t live in a country where the government has no limits and a man has no rights. I saw it over there and I fought it. I’m not going to stop fighting it just because it’s our own government.”

  Cathy shuddered. No! Not over wheat! Or them trespassing on our land or your pride or anything. You came back to me, and I’m not going to lose you now. Not over wheat.”