“The creek has to be filtered and pasteurized for drinking,” Emma said.
“Does that old windmill out back work?” Jose asked.
“That windmill was the original pump to the well,” Rich said. “The old workings are still up there. The well supplied water for a stock tank in this canyon before our houses were built. It was converted to an electric pump years ago. The windmill hasn't been used since before I got here.”
“Let's take a look,” Jose said. “I tinker with mechanical stuff. Maybe I can give you a hand.”
“Yep, Jose tinkers with stuff alright,” Dennis said. “He's a systems engineer who can actually turn a wrench. You should see what he and Jess did to trick out their SUV for search and rescue.”
“How about we put the seventy-two hour packs under that tree?” said Jose, trying to hide a slight blush.
Emma interjected, “Why don't you put them on the porch?”
“Care to follow me?” Rich asked, looking at Jose.
Jose and Rich started up the hill toward the windmill. Rich called back, “Mijo, you can join us after you have finished your hole diggin'.”
“Why don't the rest of you come in?” Emma said, motioning with her arms like she was calling a flock of chickens. “Let's go to the kitchen.”
Emma led Dennis and Lynn through her combination western and overflowing bookshelves themed living room, headed toward the kitchen.
“This clock's off by forty minutes,” Dennis remarked as he noticed the old grandfather clock sitting in the corner. He paused, glancing at his watch, confirming that it was still running.
“I set it yesterday.” said Emma. “It needed to be wound. I don't think anyone's let it run for more than a day or two since my dad died fifteen years ago. He disconnected the chimes when I was a kid, saying they kept him awake.”
“Mind if I set it?”
“Nope, let me help you.” Emma opened the face by lifting a latch on the side and swinging the glass open so that the hands could be manipulated. “I made a guess at the time when I set it yesterday. Looks like I got pretty close.”
Dennis moved the minute hand forward forty-two minutes, then closed the glass. “This ol' thing will be nice to have while the power's out.”
Emma led father and daughter into the kitchen. Her counters overflowed with food. Pots were boiling away on the propane stove. Empty Mason jars sat in boiling water or in boxes piled on the counters. Sunlight and a warm breeze flowed through the window over the sink.
“I'm trying to can everything from my refrigerator and freezer and Rich's refrigerator and freezer too. Don't know how long the power will be off and I won't see all this go to waste. We have plenty for dinner with all this food awasting. I only have so many burners and this meat, especially, has to be pressure canned for a long time to be done properly.”
“Is there anything we can do to help you?” asked Dennis.
“I'll take this lovely girl as helper,” Emma said in a motherly tone, looking directly at Lynn. “This kitchen is too small for more than that. Why don't you pull up a chair at the table?”
“I don't think Lynn has ever seen anyone can food,” Dennis said.
“Yeah, this all looks complicated,” Lynn said gazing wide-eyed at the whole operation.
“It's not, really,” Emma said. “Canning is all about keeping things sterile.”
Lynn stood close to Emma and peered over her shoulder, watching as she took Mason jars from a boiling pot with a special lifting device, dumped the water out, and set them upright onto a clean towel. The glass steamed.
“Hand me those metal lids, would you, Lynn?”
Emma added the metal lids, rings and a pair of tongs to a small pot of simmering water on the back burner. She put a large, wide-mouthed funnel into a sterilized jar and ladled boiling meat into it until the meat and its liquid reached the shoulder of the jar.
“Now take those tongs and place a lid from the boiling pan onto the full jar,” Emma instructed. Lynn tried to get just one lid with the tongs, but the lids seemed to be stuck together. Emma took the tongs and pried the lids apart carefully, then held one out, offering the tongs back to Lynn. “I learned to can by helping my grandmother and my mother. My daughter, Kelly, canned with me when she was younger.”
“I wish my Mom could have taught me stuff like this.”
Glancing over her shoulder, Emma could see the sadness on Lynn's face. “Is your mom gone?”
“She passed away almost six years ago now. Cancer.”
“I'm so sorry to hear that. Is it just you and your dad?”
“Yeah, he's a great dad, tries hard, but there are just some things you need a mom for.”
Emma and Lynn worked and talked together until all of the meat was packed into quart jars and the lids were in place. Emma took the screw-top rings out of the boiling water and laid them on the towel. She used an oven mitt and picked up one ring after another, tightening it over a lid and onto the jar, just enough to apply pressure to the lids. One by one, she lifted seven jars into the pressure canner, filling each open slot. The water in it was already hot, but not quite boiling.
Emma set the cooker's lid in place and said, “Now we're just waiting for the pressure to build up and the pot to eject steam.” She showed Lynn how to ready more jars of tomatoes for the water bath canner. After ten minutes of steam pouring from the pressure canner's relief stem, Emma put the heavy metal rocker on. The rocker made a quick swoosh-swoosh-swoosh sound as excess internal pressure was allowed to escape.
“Okay, ninety minutes should do it.” Emma sighed as she lifted her shirt sleeve to wipe her brow. “Canning is hot business, I tell you.”
Jess burst into the kitchen. “My dad is making a well torpedo, and he needs all the paracord from our search packs,” he gasped, out of breath.
“Calm down, what's your dad making?” Dennis asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Dad's calling it a torpedo or bailer. Rich has some three-inch diameter PVC. Dad's making a one-way valve out of an end cap with a hole in it and a piece of rubber, a nut, a bolt and a washer. You have to lower the thing into the well with the paracord.”
“Really?” Dennis asked.
“Water rushes into the PVC pipe by pushing the rubber flap up,” Jess said. “As you pull the pipe up, the rubber flap closes because of the weight of the water. Dad thinks the torpedo will hold about two gallons. The water can be dumped into the holding tank.”
“That well is probably two hundred feet deep,” Emma said. “It's going to be a lot of work. That won't give us enough water around here. We need to get a pump going.” Her face had a blank expression and she looked a bit pale.
Everyone walked out to the packs on the porch and began digging through their contents.
Jess gathered the coils of paracord and started toward the well.
Emma shouted after him, “We'll call you in for lunch.”
“It looks like you gals have the canning in hand,” Dennis said. “I'll get started digging your latrine. Just let me know where you want it and where you keep your tools. It's the least I can do in exchange for a fine lunch.” He headed outside.
Emma smiled and said, “You pick the spot, and the shovels are in the tack room in the barn up the hill. Oh, and thanks.”
****
At about noon, lunch was ready. Emma stepped out the back door and clanged a metal bar around and around in a triangle. How many times had she called Kelly in for lunch or supper this way? The high-pitched clanging could be heard for the better part of a mile. It echoed up the canyons and along the creek bed. It wasn't long until folks, like ants, emerged from every direction, heading for the house.
“We'll be eating on the porch to catch a little breeze,” Emma explained. She had put out lawn chairs to supplement the porch swing and glider.
Lynn and Dennis brought plates filled with steak, fried zucchini and salad. They each took a plate and thanked Emma in appreciation for the meal.
“It's the
least I could do,”
“I have good news,” said Rich. “Jose here thinks he can fix the well if we can acquire or fabricate a few parts. Bill Johnson, about three miles down the road, has a pretty fair machine shop for keeping his ranch equipment repaired. We're going down there after lunch to see if he can help us with tools and hardware.”
Jose chimed in, “Let me get a few more measurements and make a list of what we need. We can take the remains of the old pump cylinder with us too. Dennis, Jess, are you going?”
Both nodded yes.
“I want to go to town too,” said Emma. “I want to make sure everybody down by the highway is okay health-wise. I'll put on my community nurse hat and make the rounds of the residents while we're down there.” Emma paused in thought. “Lynn, can you ride a horse?”
“Sure, I rode horses in summer camp. Why?”
“What do you think about finishing up the canning and then riding to Sunflower in a couple of hours?” Lynn's face lit up. “Just remember, my horses are real cow ponies, not dude ranch stable queens. You'll have to cowgirl up.” Emma let out a chuckle, seeing Lynn raise her eyebrows and open her eyes wide, questioningly. “Don't worry. They won't buck you off or anything, but you'll have to show them who's boss.”
Lynn nodded, not sure she knew what Emma was talking about, but eager to ride a horse nonetheless.
“By the time we see everyone in town, the boys should be done shootin' the breeze at the shop.”
****
Lunch consisted of food and conversation. They talked about two things; the first was the immediate steps needed for their survival. Even though living in the Arizona desert wasn't new to these folks, no one had ever done it without electricity. Secondly, what the Sam Hill had caused all the electronics to fail? Personal introductions were more substantial, talk of an EMP as thorough as everyone in the group could recollect, and fear acknowledged but not dwelled upon.
Emma cleared her throat and said, “Seems that we need each other right now—you all for shelter, food and stuff, and us for mechanical help. I'm making an invitation for you to stay here for the time being, until we can figure all of this out.”
“That's very nice of you, ma'am,” said Dennis. “I can't see us walking back to town with the food we have left in our packs. We don't want to be a burden, and will do everything we can to set you up; you know, help out.”
Emma smiled. “We have a deal, then.”
Everyone looked at each other around the table.
There was silence for a minute or so until Emma broke it. “I want to talk to you all about one more thing before we finish eating: sanitation. We are in very fragile circumstances and on our own, at least for now. That means no getting sick. Washing your hands is the most important thing you can do. Make sure the trash is taken out promptly and burned. Let me know the minute anyone feels ill or gets injured. We could also use a source of hot water that doesn't use up our propane. Any ideas?”
“There is always a camp fire,” said Dennis. “Do you have a barrel and maybe some glass, like an old window or door? I might be able to rig up some kind of solar water heater.”
“Great idea. I'll show you around my work shed when we get a minute,” said Rich. “After we get the windmill pumping.”
Emma got up and started to clear the dishes from the table, and Lynn followed suit. “I think we should all get back to work before we burn any more daylight.”
The mood was solemn but purposeful. Having tasks to perform helped take their minds off the “whatever had happened” that had turned their worlds upside down. Rich, along with the other men, started out the front door.
“Emma, come quick,” Rich yelled.
“What is it?” cried Emma. She grabbed the shotgun on her way out the front door, unsure of the cause of the commotion.
“There are two horses coming up the driveway!”
Emma emerged onto the front porch, gun hanging from her right arm. Lynn trailed Emma to the door, stopped and peered down the driveway.
“Don't shoot, Mom! It's me, Kelly.”
Emma propped the gun on the porch railing and then ran, in that old lady sort of way, toward her daughter.
“Kelly, are you alright?” Emma asked anxiously, her breath coming in gasps.
“Mom, we need help. I have an officer here who has been shot. He's lost quite a bit of blood and I'm afraid infection is setting in.”
Jared raised his shoulders as much as he could, winced, and then glared at Kelly. “You didn't tell me you thought it looked infected.”
Kelly ignored him. “Let's get him to the house.” Kelly rode Hokey to the porch railing. Pokey followed. “Help me get him down.”
Rich and Emma reached up and guided Jared down. He would have landed in a heap on the ground if they hadn't taken his full weight.
“Thanks, guys,” Jared managed.
“Let's get him inside, Rich,” Emma directed. “Take him into the kitchen, there's better light in there.”
Supporting the staggering Jared under his good arm, Rich led him toward the front door. Emma followed.
Kelly grabbed her mother's shoulder, and Emma turned toward her daughter. “Who are all of these people?”
“They're a search and rescue group lost in the hills. I can explain more later. You came from town by horse. I guess we can assume no one has power or vehicles there either?”
“No, but we can talk about this later too,” Kelly's voice was strident with panic. “That officer has had that bullet in his shoulder for more than twenty-four hours. His name is Jared.” She exhaled forcefully. Emma pulled Kelly into her arms. Kelly's muscles relaxed some. She let out one small sob and melted into her mother's warm embrace.
Emma took Kelly by the shoulders, pushing her away slightly so she could look her in the eyes.
“None of that quite yet,” Emma said in a soothing voice, her eyes smiling softly. “There's work to do.” She gave her daughter a squeeze.
“Sorry Mom, I'm exhausted.”
“I know, hon, but right now there is a young man in there that needs our help.”
“Yes, ma'am,” Kelly said, almost in her military voice.
Emma hugged Kelly again, then they both straightened and put on their “all business” faces.
Emma wiped a tear off Kelly's cheek and planted a kiss where it had been. Kelly's face was so dirty from riding in the desert that the tear left a muddy streak.
“I'll help you in there, but I don't trust my hands. They might shake so badly that I couldn't remove the bullet,” said Kelly.
Emma smiled and gave her an encouraging wink. The two women moved hastily into the house.
Emma burst into the kitchen, Kelly right behind her, and started giving directions. Rich had lowered Jared into a kitchen chair. Kelly could see he was struggling to keep himself upright. Lynn stood agape by the kitchen door, looking at Jared. Kelly made eye contact with the teen as she passed by.
“I'm afraid the kitchen is hot and in such a mess,” said Emma. “Rich, help me clear the table. Lynn, clear the counter around the sink. Kelly, you get a mattress cover from the linen closet and grab a couple of pillows and towels too.”
Kelly returned from the hallway with her ordered items.
“Hold these,” Kelly said, handing Lynn the towels. She looked directly at Lynn and smiled as she said it. Lynn nodded and took them, looking eager to help.
Kelly placed the pillows at one end of the table and then the plastic mattress pad over all.
“Put the towels approximately where Jared's shoulder would go, Lynn... please,” Kelly added as an afterthought, realizing she wasn't in a war zone talking to her regular crew.
Rich grabbed Jared firmly under his arm to get him standing, lifting much of his weight and nearly dislocating the poor man's good shoulder. He stepped backward with Jared leaning on him until the two men got to the table. Jared pivoted on his foot, then inched one hip onto the table. Rich helped Jared lie down by providing counter-weight and
using his uninjured arm as a lever.
Lynn watched as Emma moved close to her new patient. Emma removed Jared's sling and peeled back the remnants of his shirt. She tried to dislodge the bandage, but the blood was dry now. She tugged the bandage to release it from the entrance wound. When it finally let go, it took some of the scab and skin with it.
“Ouch!” Emma said sympathetically. Jared just set his jaw. “It doesn't look too bad yet.” Emma eased the deputy's shirt off his shoulder.
“God, I'm just glad to lie down,” Jared said softly.
“Kelly, take his pulse,” said Emma. “The rest of you, besides Lynn, had better wait in the front room. We don't need any more germs in here than we have to.”
“About 120 beats per minute,” announced Kelly.
“Early shock. We need to address fluids and infection.” Emma said it as much to herself as to Kelly. “Adjust those pillows, Lynn, under the plastic. Kelly, put a new pot of water on to boil.” To make up for the commands, she shot them each a kind smile.
Lynn moved quickly, with a determined look on her face. She pursed her lips tightly, took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, doing as she was told.
“Yes, right away, Mom,” said Kelly, smiling back.
Emma disappeared down the hallway, but returned shortly with a small olive-drab bundle and a box of supplies. She unrolled the bundle, exposing an army surgical kit. Stainless steel instruments were all neatly tucked into their own little pouches. Emma saw Kelly putting a big pot of water on the stove. They needed boiling water to sterilize the instruments.
“Did I send you to boil water and get sheets?” Emma laughed, making reference to an old midwives' joke. She was trying to break the tension and the silence. Kelly smiled broadly. This was her calling, her life's work; it felt familiar.
“Mom, I'm going out to get some things from my bags. As Kelly passed through the front room, she said, “Rich would you unsaddle the horses and get them something to drink? We were in a hurry and didn't water them at the creek. They haven't had much water since the Verde.” Rich headed for the front door. Kelly followed him out of the house and retrieved her saddle bags.
Post Grid: An Arizona EMP Adventure Page 8
