Post Grid: An Arizona EMP Adventure

by Tony Martineau

  “Kelly, Rich, take the woman to the back stoop. Don't take her in the house, don't talk to her. I'll be around in a few minutes.”

  Rich and Kelly walked the shaken woman to the back.

  Jared interrogated the man. “What's your name?”

  “I'm Tim and my wife's name is Mary. We weren't doing anything.”

  “You were doing something,” Jared said. “Just tell me the whole story.”

  “We were out looking for food—ah, rabbit hunting,” Tim said uncertainly. “Um, I didn't know you, ah, that there were houses here. We didn't mean anyone any harm.”

  “It doesn't look like you got any rabbits. Did you see any?” Jared said.

  “Well, no. We haven't seen any.”

  “It's not too likely, wandering around in the dark without a flashlight. Why don't you just stay right here. I'll be back.” He left Emma with her shotgun trained on Tim.

  Jared made his way to the back of the house, where he found Kelly and Rich guarding the second prisoner.

  “Now, ma'am, would you tell me your name and why you are here?” Jared said as they stood in the dark on the back stoop.

  “I'm Mary. We came up to the house earlier today. It looked like there was just an old lady here. We thought we could get some vegetables or chickens or something out of the yard. We weren't going to hurt her.”

  “Tim was pretty fast on the trigger tonight,” Jared said.

  “I suppose. He was pretty scared. We are getting pretty hungry. The weeds and jojoba beans down by the stream don't hold off hunger very long. Look at my clothes, they are already hanging off of me and it's only been nine days, a little over a week.”

  Jared left Rich and Kelly with the woman, and moved back to the front of the house to address his other prisoner. “Tim, we have had just about enough of you and your wife. I think it's time for the two of you to be moving along.”

  “Sure, sure we'll leave, just let my wife go,” Tim pleaded.

  “Not so fast. No one is going anywhere tonight. You've already shown yourselves to be untrustworthy and downright dangerous. We'll wait 'til the morning and then let you know what we have decided.”

  “Please, please don't hurt us,” Tim said.

  “No one here plans to hurt anyone. I'll have them bring Mary back around front. You two can stay together tonight.”

  Kelly brought Mary to the front porch. Both prisoners were re-handcuffed in the front and bound by ropes about their waists, ankles and wrists, and tied to the porch swing. Emma couldn't bear the thought of the two being cold or more uncomfortable than they had to be, so she brought out pillows and blankets. Both were given water, which they drank greedily. Nothing was said in the prisoner's presence.

  Jared called to Jess to come down from Rich's house. The teens were instructed to watch the prisoners while the rest of the clan held a family meeting.

  “Shouldn't we give them a good dinner?” Emma asked Jared.

  “No, I'm afraid that would just prove that we have food to share, and they would be a threat in the future,” said Jared.

  “Not anything?” asked Kelly. “I don't think I could do that to a stray dog.”

  “Kel, you and I were just talking about how all of us are losing weight, how the food we have now has to last through the winter. Every bite we give them may mean a bite Lynn doesn't have, or Jess.”

  Kelly hung her head. Emma leaned closer to her and gave her a hug. “I know, it's just so hard to wrap your head around. I've struggled with it every time we have seen someone without.”

  “That's natural,” said Emma, “but it's survival now. We all have to change our way of thinking; them or us. I hate it too. I won't sleep all night thinking of them out there, cold and hungry.”

  “Remember, they were willing to kill us tonight,” reminded Jared.

  Kelly shook her head in acknowledgment.

  “We're not going to hurt them,” Dennis said as a statement, not a question.

  “No, of course not,” said Jared. “I can't condone first-degree murder.”

  There was a collective sigh, even from Jared.

  It took almost a half hour's discussion around the kitchen table to come up with the plan.

  ****

  The next morning found the away team—Dennis, Lynn, Jose, Jess, Kelly and Rich—riding on the donkey cart and horses, heading north from the ranch along the old road. Tim and Mary, still bound, sat sullenly on the cart with their scant possessions, which had been gathered from their camp by the creek. Everything they had with them fit in a daypack, except a single light sleeping bag. They had a few matches, a few articles of clothing, a can opener, a small fry pan, two forks, a pocket knife and a cell phone.

  The group came to the junction with the Beeline Highway, well north of Sunflower, and continued toward Payson. When it was deemed they had gone far enough, Tim and Mary were set down, their restraints removed, and their gear thrown at their feet.

  “Payson is that way,” Rich pointed. “If we see you in our neighborhood again, you will be shot.”

  The couple walked silently northward until they were out of sight, carrying their bags and the sandwiches Emma had made them for lunch.

  “Oh, my God,” Kelly sighed heavily. “How could our world come to this? Did you see what they brought with them? How did they think they were going to survive?”

  “They didn't,” said Jose. “We all have had survival training, some in the military and some from camping or search and rescue. Remember, there are many in our population that have never struck a match. We don't have pilot lights any more, their barbecue grills have a push button start, and there are butane lighters for their scented candles.”

  “Yeah,” said Dennis. “I'm willing to bet that the majority of Americans have never stayed overnight in less than an RV.”

  “Very few are going to make it,” said Rich.

  “We will,” Kelly said in a voice not much more than a whisper.

  “Yes, we will,” said Jose sternly.

  The clan scrounged with renewed vigor. Today, they used the northern route to the house from the Beeline instead of using the southern route through Sunflower, saving them several miles. In addition to the trailers brought home, the great find of the day was an overlooked tanker truck carrying corn syrup. It was actually high-fructose corn syrup used for making soda pop. When Emma heard about it, while the group was dropping off a load at the ranch, she insisted that they fill several large, scavenged water containers and a fifty-gallon drum with the liquid sugar.

  During the late morning, the team heard motors; vehicles coming toward them from the South. As they got closer, everyone could see it was a convoy made up of old trucks—pickups, surplus military trucks, stake beds and jeeps, many towing trailers. The sound was so foreign as to be unnerving.

  Dennis wanted to talk with them, but the drivers' and their passengers' determined, wary expressions convinced him not to bother flagging them down.

  “I bet they're moving supplies for the Mormons,” opined Rich. “There has been a lot of activity on the LDS radio net in the last twenty-four hours. I think we should leave them alone. That is all we can ask of them in return.”

  ****

  After the cart made its final trip home late that afternoon, Dennis and Rich decided to make a trip into Sunflower to tell the residents about the encounter with Tim and Mary. Riding into the settlement, they saw folks unloading their wagons of salvaged goods. Rich and Dennis pitched in while telling their tale. As the unloading wrapped up, they heard teams of horse-drawn wagons approaching on the highway.

  Bill, Rich and Dennis walked to the highway to watch the parade. Descending the access road into Sunflower came every manner of beast and wagon. Horses, mules, hennies, burros, and ponies pulled old buckboards, modern wagons on rubber tires, donkey carts, pony carts, replica covered wagons, and even a ranch chuck wagon. Dennis noticed rifles and shotguns within reach of the alert drivers and riders, some of whom also wore sidearms, but no one se
emed threatening.

  The first team pulled off to the side of the road to speak to the Sunflower contingent while the other wagons continued on the opposite side of the road, down toward the stream.

  “Howdy,” Rich called.

  “Hi there!” exclaimed the driver. “I'm Warren Jones, the captain of this Mormon wagon company. Who might you be?”

  “I'm Rich Freeman, and this is Jose Herrero and Dennis Rabbinowitz.” Rich approached the wagon and Warren leaned way down from the driver's seat, offering Rich his hand.

  “We are residents of Sunflower. You're welcome to camp down here by the stream, but we ask that you stay south of the bridge and keep your livestock out of the stream. We're afraid that too many hooves will foul the water,” offered Rich.

  “Very reasonable of you,” Warren returned. “We are sorry that we have to inconvenience you like this, but we don't have any choice. We will be as clean as we can. We were planning on damming the stream to make a few small pools. Our families and livestock will be doled water from them and we'll tell everyone else not to go down there.”

  “We appreciate your sensitivity in this current predicament we all find ourselves in,” said Rich. ”How many of you are there and where are you headed?”

  “In total, there are several thousand people that will be passing by here over the next week or so. We're heading north and will be spreading out to Snowflake, Springerville, Taylor, Show Low and the like. We can make arrangements for land and water there. My wagons will be here tonight and you should start seeing handcart companies around midday tomorrow.”

  “Handcart companies?” Rich repeated.

  “Yes, sir. Without even knowing it, we have been practicing this great migration by encouraging our youth to reenact the Mormon pioneers crossing the Great Plains into the Salt Lake Valley in the 1800s. Each stake does a handcart trek once every four years for our youth ages fourteen to eighteen. Their trek, like this one, teaches them what our ancestors did for their religious freedom and what they felt was their survival. This migration is not dissimilar to the very journey our ancestors undertook more than one hundred years ago.”

  “I am very familiar with handcart treks,” said Rich. “I went on one as an adult advisor.”

  “So are you Brother Freeman?” asked Warren with a chuckle.

  “I haven't been active with the church in years,” replied Rich. “I'm a ham radio operator though, and I've been listening to your ham net. Does each company have a radio?”

  “No, I'm afraid not enough radios survived for each company to have one. This wagon company has one. I think one of the handcart companies, three or four companies back, will have one. The last company to come through will have one as well.

  “I'd like to talk to your radio operator,” said Rich.

  “Sure thing, Brother Freeman,” Warren said with a wink. “He's in that green, tall wagon there, the second one in line.” The wagon master pointed toward the wagons south of the highway.

  “Thank you much, Warren. Good luck to you and all your people. You'll need it,” said Rich.

  “As will you, as will you,” replied Warren. The two men continued to talk for about 20 minutes. The Mormons were aware of the widespread blackout and relayed the sad news about the many deaths in the big cities. Both men shook hands with Warren again and they parted ways.

  ****

  Kelly made her way out to the living room and immediately noticed that the couch was empty. Jared's blankets were stacked neatly on the floor at the far end of the couch, with his pillow topping the pile. There was no light underneath the kitchen door. Kelly scanned the rest of the room and finally saw Jared sitting in the porch swing through the gauzy white sheers that hung between the recently repositioned hutch and the front window. She picked up one of the stacked blankets and made her way to the front door. She opened it ever so quietly and slipped out. Jared looked up and smiled sweetly at her. His eyes had that familiar glow of a young man in love. Jared motioned with his arms for Kelly to come and sit with him. She threw the blanket around her shoulders and climbed into the swing, snuggling up. Jared leaned over and kissed her softly on the top of the head.

  “Good morning, my darling,” he whispered.

  Kelly responded to his words by pressing herself tighter to his side and nuzzling his neck. The sun wasn't up yet, but the sky had begun to glow pink behind the mountain peaks in the East. Both sat in the quiet of the morning, enjoying each other's company and their beautiful surroundings.

  “What do you think of the Mormons coming?” Jared finally asked.

  “Oh, not much. I just hope they can make a go of it in the North. Not too hopeful, though...”

  “What? You don't think they should go?” Jared turned to face Kelly.

  “I'm not saying shouldn't, but it all depends on what's up there already. Water and probably land, but can they work the soil, do they have any seeds, will they live through the winter long enough to plant? Those people aren't much different from most city folks. Probably a lot of IT guys and data-entry moms, not used to hard work.”

  “The difference may be the skills they have collectively, like us.”

  “Yes, that would be one of the determining factors: knowledge, supplies and hard work, but don't forget the weather. If the winter is hard, the other stuff might not matter. I just hope they have the calories they'll need for cold weather and hard work.”

  “Speaking of hard work, the others will be up soon and today is cattle round-up day, according to Mom. She thinks they should be moved closer to the house so that we can watch over them. She wants me and the kids to help out. I think Mom's right. We need to get them in before they become barbeque.”

  “How long will that take?” Jared asked. “I've never had to round up cattle.”

  “Most of the day I would imagine; maybe two. The cattle usually don't stray too far from the stream, but it depends on how far afield they have wandered.”

  “Will you have to camp out?”

  “No, we would go out on multiple days if we need to, but for now Mom thinks it will be pretty straightforward.”

  “Good. I want you home at night. I worry about you enough as it is when you're out during the day, but the nights kill me,” Jared said, turning his face to hers.

  Kelly, seeing this out of the corner of her eye, turned her head toward him. “You're so sweet.”

  Their lips met in the middle. Their talk about cows had ended. They sat kissing and caressing, time forgotten, until they both heard people walking about inside.

  Jared whispered, “I love these precious moments we get to spend alone together. You know how much I love you, don't you?”

  Kelly's heart skipped a beat when she heard Jared's declaration of love. She sat silently for just a second and then said, “I love you too... darling.” Her heart skipped another beat at her own words, and another, and another.

  Jared bent down and kissed Kelly passionately. He could not describe the joy he was experiencing. For the first time in his life, he couldn't think of spending his life with anyone but Kelly. “Don't ever leave me,” Jared said, his voice low and breathless.

  “I'm not going anywhere. Why would I ever want to?”

  ****

  Breakfast was simple: eggs and pancakes. Emma liked cooking over an open fire in the backyard, and so did Jose. Everyone gathered around the kitchen table to plan out the day. Emma, Kelly, and the teens would round up the cows. The men planned on readying the homesteads for winter. Harvest was in full swing. Garden beds needed to be turned; if fallow, new beds planned out and turned. More cover frames needed to be fashioned to extend the growing season, and then there was the ever-pressing need for firewood. This was also the day for Dennis to prepare food for the Sabbath—Friday night and Saturday.

  The men stopped their gardening and watched as Emma and Kelly walked past toward the corral to meet Jess.

  “I've always liked pretty cowgirls,” Rich said to Dennis, loud enough for the women to hear.<
br />
  “I heard that, you ol' coot,” Emma shot back with mock sternness.

  “Yep, Stetsons, colorful, fitted blouses, tight jeans, chaps and boots. That's a great outfit to show off any pretty girl's assets,” said Jose, just for the guys' ears.

  “Well, the six-guns and holsters might give one pause for reflection,” Dennis said, drawing attention to the matching holstered Rugers worn by Emma and Kelly.

  “What a wonderful image she is—I mean, they are,” said Jared, smiling.

  ****

  The morning found the wranglers working the canyons east of Bushnell Tanks. Emma normally kept a good eye on her herd and knew where to look for them. The task at hand was to find her cattle, separate them from any other cows, and move them to land near the Wise/Freeman homestead. A corral, one of the many spread across the Southwest for temporarily holding stock during round-ups, was located nearby. The plain, heavy beams had been placed by Diamond Ranch cowboys decades ago. The current ranches maintained and used the pens every year.

  The teens rode around the corrals and closed all but one gate. Emma led the crew to a large, tree-covered area. Here they saw contented cattle chewing sweet green grass. The teens circled the trees, looking for any wandering cows. There were several cows up the incline of the canyon, but most were near the grass down by the stream. Kelly and Emma began driving the small knots of cattle together. Unlike in westerns, moving cows is a slow, deliberate process. Mother and daughter moved behind a small cluster of critters and, with a little shouting and nudging by the cow ponies, the cows started walking.

  “Cattle are pushed from behind and guided by outriders along the flanks of the herd,” explained Emma to the young 'uns. Kelly and Emma taught by example. They also shouted directions to Jess and Lynn: “Forward, hold steady, come back 'round, hold 'em,” and the like. Both teens were fast learners and the herding seemed natural in no time. “I'll make true cowhands out of you both,” praised Emma.