by J. R. Tate
“I want answers, Chief. I want to know why this is happening, how widespread it is, and what we can do to get it to stop.”
“I wouldn’t want to dig too deep, Ryan. Sometimes we come up with answers we might not want to know about.”
“What do you mean?” Ryan asked, pulling his concentration from the beautiful night sky.
“Sometimes ignorance is bliss. Do you understand, Gibson?”
“I get it but I guess not for this situation. You don’t want to know how to get it to stop?”
Chief Rayburn ducked his head and ran his fingers through the sand beneath them. His shoulders slumped like he was carrying a thousand pounds. It wasn’t the usual confident Chief that Ryan worked with.
“We haven’t really had anything extreme happen lately, have we? I think it is finally dying down.”
Ryan shook his head and scoffed. He tried not to get riled up but it was attitudes like his Chief’s that would set them back. “You don’t consider multiple months in a row at one hundred plus degrees temperatures as extreme? You don’t consider that same amount of time going by with absolutely no form of precipitation falling from the sky? I get it, we aren’t Seattle. We don’t get rain every day but even this is unheard of.”
“We’ve had some pretty bad droughts. We aren’t where the dust bowl took place but we are close. History repeats itself, even with weather.”
“I don’t know, Chief. Even back then, they were able to get out and get to safety. We have advanced technology and ways of getting news to others and still nothing. Where is FEMA? Where is Red Cross? Just by the way the air smells and feels tonight, winter will be coming early. Spring and summer were out of control. What if winter follows suit? And I have a feeling it will.”
“It’s a little early to be making those kinds of predictions.”
“I predicted the drought and I was right,” Ryan replied, grabbing a fist full of dirt. Watching it trickle between his fingers, a gust of wind carried some of it off.
Chief Rayburn lowered his voice, almost too low to be heard over the wind. “I think we shouldn’t pry. I don’t think it’ll solve a damn thing. We should just accept this as a new normal, rebuild, and get on with our lives.”
“I can’t do that, Chief,” Ryan said, standing. “We put a man on the moon. We have the internet which allowed fast spreading of current events. We have advanced weather forecasting to give people good warning to take cover in events like these.” He patted some dust from his jeans and took a few steps before turning back around. “I guess I should be using past-tense. We had all of those things. Now we’re nothing better than cavemen. I can’t help that my curiosity is running rampant. Something is off and no, ignorance isn’t bliss. I want it to stop. I want this country to reunite so we can work together as a team. This can’t be how life is from now on. I’m not gonna let that be the solution.”
“I wouldn’t get your hopes up too high, Ryan. I think this is well beyond anything we can comprehend.”
Ryan ignored Chief Rayburn’s last comment and strode back down the hill toward the shelter. He never was the type to roll over and die. He thought Chief Rayburn wasn’t either but if there was one thing for certain in all of this, it was that people’s true colors were beginning to show. Ryan wasn’t going to let himself fall into the darkness of giving up. He didn’t want that kind of future for Ty or his family.
~~
Ryan got out of bed the next morning and began working. Staying busy, he watered the crops and helped gather supplies to start building a wall around Harper Springs. He kept his focus on a possible attack. The looters still had not come back around and each day that went by without a sighting, Ryan worried more. He feared complacency the most, worrying he’d be one of the first to fall into a rut of thinking they were safe from any kind of attack. That’s just what the nuisances wanted – just when they thought they were the supreme new town with the biggest driving force, they’d catch them on their heels and take over with no problem.
Gun supply wasn’t a problem – if they wanted to keep hunting to replenish their food, it would mean using up their ammunition. There were ways to make homemade bullets but it consisted of gathering the right supplies to do it – metal being the most important thing. Ryan could sift through debris piles to do just that. He’d also need a melting pot, a consistent source of heat to melt the metal, and a bullet mold, which his father had from his years of recycling his own ammunition. That was another chance of fate that had worked in their favor.
He saw Steve from atop the hill and joined him. It was still a little before dawn and the heat of the day hadn’t kicked in. In fact, it was probably cool enough for a jacket, but Ryan was enjoying it. He’d never again complain about cool weather after the summer they had endured.
“Morning, Steve.”
“Morning, Ryan. From the looks of things, you didn’t sleep a wink last night, did you?”
“Not a one. But I’ve gotten a lot done this morning. And good news – looks like a few of the plants are starting to produce. Nothing is ready to be picked but hey, it’s progress.”
“That’s great!”
Ryan glanced over at the charred ground where they had their bonfire and meal the night before. They had put the remaining meat in a box with a lid on it. Since the meat had been smoked, fear of food contamination had been reduced, but Ryan still wanted to make sure they stored it properly.
Lifting the box, Steve helped him carry it to the basement where a business used to stand. It wasn’t safe enough for many people to go in – the ladder at the entrance was compromised and rickety, and whoever used it had to take it slow. The wood was weak under Ryan’s boots and he made a mental note to add repairing it to his ever-growing to-do list.
The walls and floor were dirt and he was able to dig a deep hole in the side. The musty scent stung his nostrils. It was damp and cool, and would serve as their refrigerator. Sliding the box inside, he wiped his hands on his shirt and studied the remaining room they had to work with.
“We cooked all the meat, right?”
“Yeah. And by how heavy that box is, I’d say we still have a good fifty to seventy-five pounds. You think it’s cool enough in here to keep it safe?”
“Yeah. Smoking is a good way to preserve meat. If we’re able to hunt anything else in bulk, we’ll need to salt-cure it or find out other means of keeping it fresh. This is how they did it way back when. I remember going to that old ranching heritage museum where they had a storage cellar like this. It’s dark and out of sunlight and the air doesn’t move too much. It’ll definitely help.”
“Is it me, or does it feel like the days are starting off a lot cooler?” Steve inquired, climbing back up the ladder. Ryan followed, reaching the top. The sun was now completely up and it was definitely a chilly, autumn morning.
“Yeah, it has been. I’d say it’s only in the upper fifties right now. Usually, by now, it’s at least ninety. The chill of an early fall, Steve. You know what that means – we’re probably going to have an El Nino winter.”
“I’m from Oklahoma. We are used to having more of a winter than y’all do down here.”
“And it’s not such a bad thing. If it snows a lot or we get ice storms, it’s precipitation and I’m at the point where I’ll welcome any kind. The river is low and I haven’t been down to the lake lately to check, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out it’ll be the same story down there.”
Ryan watched Chief Rayburn walk past them. He didn’t acknowledge them, like he was lost in his own world. He couldn’t shake the conversation he had with him the night before. It only heightened his insomnia, making his worry spiral out of control. Chief was changing – the tragedy likely hitting him harder than Ryan had realized.
“Hey, Steve, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Are you the type that wants to find out why something is happening, or would you rather just not want to know?”
Steve contemplated t
he question, pursing his lips. “Depends on what it’s about.”
“All of this.” Ryan spread his hands and turned in a circle. “Why has Mother Nature gone completely psycho on us? And why are we so crippled with all of the advances we’ve made in technology and weather forecasting?”
“Yeah. I’d definitely like to figure it out. I just don’t know how to go about doing it.”
“Me neither,” Ryan replied, keeping his eye on Chief Rayburn. He appeared busy but really wasn’t doing much of anything. “All I know is winter is coming fast. If the pattern continues, we’re going to freeze to death.”
Chief Rayburn approached them, and the man Ryan once trusted to lead them into fires and direct them on emergency calls had transitioned to a man that Ryan probably wouldn’t take orders from. It was a shame – Chief was always cool under pressure.
“You still inquiring about what is going on around here?”
“Yeah, I am, Mike,” Ryan replied, choosing a bold move to use Chief’s first name, an informal salutation that he never did before.
“Mike?” Chief asked, cocking his head to the side. “We’re on a first name basis now?”
“The way I see it, with whatever the hell is happening here, in times of a tragedy as huge as this, we’re all on an even playing field. There’s no such thing as rank anymore. You are Mike Rayburn. I am Ryan Gibson. This is Steve Tarrant. We’re all working together as one, aren’t we?”
“Yes, we are, though going on a wild goose chase to find out why is only going to put your energy on a lost cause.”
Ryan nodded and clicked his tongue. Him wanting to get answers apparently struck a nerve with Rayburn. “I guess you can say that curiosity killed the cat.”
“In this instance, satisfaction won’t bring it back.” Mike took a step toward Ryan, prodding his index finger in Ryan’s chest.
“I disagree, Mike.” Ryan made sure his tone was sarcastic when he said his name. “I gotta get busy building the wall. I might be heading out on another mission soon.” He was bluffing, but getting a rise out of Rayburn was about the only satisfaction he felt lately. Either Chief didn’t like not calling the shots or there was something deeper going on with him.
Ryan was far too mentally exhausted to figure it out at the moment – but soon, he’d get around to digging deeper. If it meant getting their life back to normal, he’d be willing to do anything possible to make a good future for Ty, Cecilia, and the rest of the people he had grown to care so much about. This wasn’t just a normal nature cycle. It was beyond what an average, everyday Joe could comprehend, and Ryan wouldn’t give up on getting the answers they needed to stabilize the situation.
“Ryan, Hon, come grab some breakfast! Ty wants you to have some oatmeal with him!” Cecilia stuck her head out of the shelter, waving for him to join them.
“I’ll be right there. Steve, come grab a bite. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”
Chapter Five
Cecilia gathered up her family’s large pile of dirty clothes from their corner of the shelter. With Ty becoming more active, he was doing a great job of getting his pants and shirts soiled. She enjoyed seeing him making friends with some of the other kids – there weren’t that many around to begin with and him socializing was a major factor in his recovery. The more fresh air and exercise he got, the better his body would respond to everything they were going through.
Playing also meant burning calories. They were already malnourished and not getting enough nutrients to replace what they were spending. She noticed everyone’s clothes fitting more loosely. If she could come across some of Mrs. McElroy’s sewing stuff, she could bring in the waistbands to help adjust to their dwindling sizes. It was worrisome – she was always a thin woman but now, if she had gone into a department store and actually sized a pair of jeans, she’d likely be a size two or smaller.
The same was true for Ryan. He was never a chubby man but he had bulk from muscle. He was still lean but thinning down. Working from sun up to sun down had helped aid in staying muscled but he was also facing the issue of more caloric burn than caloric intake. She saw it mainly in his face, especially after he shaved his beard. He had been keeping some facial hair to protect his skin from the sun but it was shocking to see her family literally wasting away before her eyes.
Carrying the dirty laundry in a pillowcase, she headed to the river where she gathered some water in a bucket. She didn’t want to clean the clothes in their source of drinking water, though it didn’t take a wise person to realize that it was possibly getting contaminated by other things. At least she was doing her part in attempting to keep it clean.
Cecilia could fit several articles of Ty’s clothing in the bucket. Dipping them in and out, she scrubbed the fabric together. His jeans and shirts were getting worn out, the fibers weak from wear and tear. She wished she was better at sewing. Her mom had tried to teach her when she was younger but she never took a liking to it, and never cared to really attempt to do it.
The only soap they had was some hand soap that the doctor’s office had stockpiled. It wasn’t the best for clothes but at least it was something, and she squeezed a few drops in the water, lathering it up as best as she could. The water was turning brown from just Ty’s clothes alone but water preservation was important. Ryan wasn’t too particular about his clothing – it’d take him a matter of seconds to dirty them up from work anyway.
Margaret had made a laundry line between two trees for them to hand dry their clothes. Cecilia draped their jeans, shirts, and bedding across it, humming as she worked. For the first time in days, it was actually comfortable to be outside. Was she just getting used to it? With heat as terrible as they had been enduring, there would be no chance that a person could adjust to feeling like they were being baked in an oven.
“Busy at work, huh?”
The comment pulled Cecilia from her daydream and she looked up, spotting Doug at a distance. It made her heart skip a beat and she almost turned to go the other way.
“You try doing laundry for two boys.”
Doug laughed and approached her. “Especially Ryan. Can’t get that man to sit still.”
“No.” Cecilia shook her head and draped his last pair of jeans on the line. She didn’t know Doug, didn’t trust him, and though Ryan had made amends with him, she still wasn’t sure what his agenda was.
“How are you holding up?” He was close enough now to reach out and touch her but he kept his hands to himself, a genuine look of concern on his face.
“I’m managing.” Cecilia didn’t mean to be so cold but being alone with him made her nervous. Glancing over her shoulder, she hoped someone was nearby.
“I know you don’t like me, Cecilia. I get it. I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate everything your family has done for me. Ryan and I started off on the wrong foot. But if that didn’t happen, there’s no telling where I’d be right now. Probably dead.” He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled. “Though I’m not sure that’s such a bad thing.”
“What do you mean?” Cecilia asked.
“We’re just… you know...”
“Just what?” Cecilia had an idea where he was taking the conversation but she wanted him to say it.
“Nothing. Never mind. It’s not important.” He walked past her toward town and turned on his heel, facing her again. “Will you tell Ryan thanks for me? I’m not too good at sentiments and I don’t think he is either. Coming from you, I think it’ll carry more weight.”
“Sure, Doug, I’ll tell him. Are you going somewhere?”
“Going somewhere?” Doug arched his eyebrow.
“It just seems like a goodbye is all.”
Doug smiled but didn’t respond, walking through some brush that crunched under his shoes. Cecilia’s pulse raced and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. The vibe in the air felt off and something deep inside was telling her to get back to the shelter around everyone else. It was like she was being watched from a distance. Or maybe
it was just her imagination – if so, it was powerful enough to freak her out.
She’d come back for their clothes. It’d take them a while to dry and others had left there’s unattended. Hurrying back up the hill, she tried to regain her composure before everyone saw her. Doug was nowhere to be found, vanishing after his odd request.
Ty was playing with a couple of other children, her mother keeping an eye on him. Ryan and Steve were piling up wood for some new project that they had thought up. Everything was normal. She could take a breath and calm down. It was a simple freak out that almost turned into a full-blown panic attack.
“You get the laundry hung up?” Margaret asked, handing her some water.
“I did.”
“Take a load off. You look exhausted, dear. Did you run back? You’re out of breath!”
“I’m fine, Mom. You’re right, I’m just tired.” Sipping the water, she downed it fast and checked on Ty. Was someone watching her? Or was she just paranoid due to Ryan’s speculation of the looters?
~~
Cecilia’s brow creased as she looked up at the sky. “I don’t know. It was just strange is all.”
Ryan sat beside her, patting her knee. He had a brilliant idea to have her join him at dusk to watch the sunset. She had to see the stars – hopefully, they would look just as magnificent as the night before.
“What did he say, exactly?” Ryan laid back on the blanket, easing Cecilia down beside him. The cool night air felt great and he tried not to harp on the possibility of an early winter shifting to a complete reality.
“He said to tell you thank you for everything you’ve done.”
“He’s told me that multiple times. I wonder why he’d tell you as well, unless he was needing an ice breaker to get you in his good graces too.”
“No. It felt like a goodbye,” Cecilia replied, turning on her side, resting on her elbow. Reaching out, she skimmed her hand down the side of Ryan’s face, feeling the sandpaper facial hair she was starting to get used to. His tanned skin was darker than normal, the sun taking its toll on him.
