by John Grit
Deni checked Samantha’s reaction. “It’s not like Samantha and I won’t be seeing each other. And the Army can’t keep me forever.” She patted Samantha on the shoulder. We’ll always be friends.”
Caroline started for the house. “Samantha and I’ll go have a talk with the others while you two say good-bye.”
Deni waited until they were on the porch and then opened her arms and stepped to him. “I wish I could go with you guys.”
He held her. Seeing her wet face made him nervous for some reason, like he was a teen again and inexperienced with women. “Don’t go and cry about it. We won’t be that far away. It’s likely we’ll be coming into town again. I expect, too, the Army will be stationing a few soldiers down by the lake, since that’s where most of the townspeople are moving to.”
“You won’t be there.”
“But the lake’s closer to Mel’s place and my farm.”
Deni blinked, and a renewed flow started. “Don’t lie. We won’t be seeing much of each other after today.” She looked up at him. “I think that would be a shame, because our age difference doesn’t matter.”
He felt like he had been hit over the head with an ax handle, not believing what he had just heard.
“Close your mouth,” Deni said. “And stop pretending we don’t have feelings for each other.”
“Deni,” he said, “there are a million men –”
“Shut up. There’s just me and you.” She held him tighter. “If you walk away, it’ll be because you’re afraid of losing another person you allowed yourself to care for. It’ll just be about fear of getting hurt again and have nothing to do with age.”
“Any way you look at it, it would be a dirty deal for you. I must be more than 14 years older. You can’t possibly find a big ugly dirt farmer like me attractive.”
“To hell with that. It’s not like I’m a high school kid and you’re 80.”
He laughed. “Well, I guess I’m not quite old enough to be your father, but not by much. And you’d still be getting a raw deal.”
“I think I’m old enough to decide what kind of deal I’m getting. So you need to come up with a better reason than that. Like maybe you don’t have feelings for me.”
He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “I never said that.”
She looked up at him, smiling. “See, it wasn’t so hard to admit what we both have known for a long time.”
They decided to take a walk and talk things over. When they came back 30 minutes later, Nate had decided to stay at the lake a few days, doing what he could to help there and then come back to town. He wasn’t sure what he’d do after that. His worries over Brian’s safety and his belief he would be safer at Mel’s bunker wouldn’t allow him to abandon his plan to leave the small community and head back to the woods.
Deni had to report for duty and left in a rush, fearing she would already be late.
Nate saw Brian watching from the porch. “You guys ready to head for the lake?”
“Yeah,” Brian answered. “Caroline and Samantha want to go with us.”
Nate reached into the back of the truck and tightened the top closure straps on his pack. “I told them they could come.” It appeared to him that Brian knew things had changed. When Brian spoke next, he didn’t have to wonder anymore.
Brian grinned from ear to ear. “When are you and Deni getting married?”
Nate stopped short. “You’re being silly. I thought you had outgrown that.”
“It was just a question. An obvious one.”
“Well, you need to steer clear of the subject altogether and let us work it out. Have some respect for me and her both.”
Brian grew serious. “I do. And I won’t bother you about it anymore, unless you bring it up.”
Nate walked up to Brian and slapped him on the shoulder. “Now you’re acting more like a man again. I appreciate that.” His eyes lit up. “And I promise not to rib you about Renee and how she’s stuck on you.”
“Hah! Yeah, I don’t believe that.”
“That she’s stuck on you?”
“That too, but more the part about you not ribbing me.”
~~~
Nate was amazed at how much work they had completed at the lake. Few buildings had been built, mostly tool and equipment sheds, but 400 acres of land had been cleared, and most of the main irrigation ditch had been dug. The question put to him was how to proceed with the branch ditches and then the smaller feed ditches.
He spent an hour looking the massive field over, starting at the concrete and steel dam that would hold back tons of lake water once the ground between the lock and the lakeshore was dug out. He walked the entire length of the main ditch that ran down the middle of the field. It was mostly dry, but some stinking dark ground water had leached out of the rich bottomland peat and 6 to 12 inches had accumulated. After all, most of the area they intended to farm was lowland and susceptible to flooding at times. A risk they had to live with if they wanted to use the rich peat for growing crops and the lake’s water for irrigation. On the day Nate inspected the field, it was only two feet above the level of the lake’s surface. This was all factored in from the start, as they needed the land to be as low as possible for the irrigation system to work on gravity alone, with no need for pumps and the diesel to fuel them. It was doubtful the hydro generators the engineer was designing for them and planning to fabricate from salvaged equipment would have the capacity to power all the homes and large water pumps, too. If they could build an irrigation system that worked on gravity alone, it would be better all around. Pumps would require fuel and maintenance. Pumps would break down and need unavailable spare parts.
A dozen soldiers were at the lake, with orders to help as best they could. Second Lieutenant (2LT) Colby Jacobson, who had just graduated from West Point when the plague hit, considered himself well versed on the science of engineering and he thought it doubtful this big hick farmer could offer any useful advice on the construction of the irrigation system. He was from the big city of New York and had no farming background. It showed. Unfortunately, he didn’t realize that it showed.
2LT Jacobson’s response to Nate’s suggestion that the main ditch be dug deeper was, “I think that ditch is plenty deep enough. It’s already below the lake’s water level, and that’s all it needs to be.”
Nate wasn’t about to argue with him; it wasn’t his farm, but he had been asked to give his thoughts on how to design the irrigation system and intended tell it the way he saw it. “I’ve seen lakes and rivers drop ten feet during severe droughts. Best to dig the main ditch deeper than needed than to be forced to dig it deeper in the middle of a crisis, like a drought. Remember, this farm is supposed to prevent hundreds of people from starving.” He raised his hands. “But, hey, I’m just here to offer my advice. There’s no law that says you have to listen to me.”
~~~
Renee and Brian had gone for a short walk together while the adults talked. Brian stopped regarding the large field long enough to look at her and comment, “This is going to be one big ass farm.”
Renee laughed. “I’d say so.”
Brian bent down and grabbed a handful of black soil. “Look at that. Pure peat. It’ll grow veggies like crazy. This stuff holds moisture well, too. It’ll require less irrigation.”
Her gaze met his. “Your dad has taught you a lot about farming, hasn’t he? Are you going to follow in his footsteps?”
He shrugged. “Don’t have much choice. Looks like we’re all going to be farmers. If we want to eat that is.”
She turned melancholy. “There is need for other skills, too. Seems like there’ll always be a need for people willing to protect the weak. Your dad would make a good cop.”
Brian noticed the change in her. “Let’s not talk about that. There’s certainly nothing we can do about that crazy in town while standing here.” He glanced toward his father and the other men, who were more than one hundred yards away, and smiled. “Besides, my dad would ma
ke a terrible cop.”
She narrowed her eyes inquisitively. “Why do you say that? I think he’d make a good cop.”
He turned cold. “If he caught that animal, the bastard would never make it to a jail cell. I probably would just shoot him on sight myself.”
“Is that bad?” she asked.
“That’s not what you’d really call law. Is it? That kind of thing is needed when there’s no law and you have no choice. But we’re talking about after we’ve pulled ourselves out of the jungle again and have restarted civilization. My dad would’ve made a good lawman back about 150 years ago when the West was being settled. And he knew how to keep us alive right after the plague when it was kill or be killed. But not now. Now, we’re supposed to be returning to normal.”
She regarded Brian with renewed admiration. “Your dad did what he had to.”
“I know that. And he’ll do it again if need be.”
~~~
Despite Nate telling 2LT Jacobson he didn’t want to argue, Jacobson took umbrage of Nate’s advice on how deep to dig the main ditch, feeling that he was the expert on the subject, being an engineer and all.
Austin swatted at a mosquito and steered the conversation back on course. “So you think the main ditch should be dug deeper before any other work is done?”
Nate nodded. “I think the ditch should be dug several feet deeper, for two reasons. Besides the fact the water level of the lake will drop during the normal yearly dry season and infrequent extreme droughts, if the ditch is deep enough to be used as a canal, crops can be loaded on small barges or flat bottom boats and floated to the lakeshore and then transferred to larger boats. Since the lake is part of a chain of lakes connected by a river and canals, boats can be used to transport the crops to other areas and traded for needed items.”
“All of that is just silly,” Jacobson said. “Why are you planning that far into the future? In two or three years we’ll have plenty of fuel, once the refineries are going again.”
Austin’s eyes lit up and he appeared to have something on his mind. “That would be nice. But I wouldn’t want to bet my life on it, or the lives of the people who will be depending on crops from this farm. I think they’ve had enough of waiting on government to feed them. If they hadn’t had those two warehouses – buildings built by corporations and filled with food produced by corporations and transported here by trucking companies with vehicles manufactured by companies on roads built by companies, the last, admittedly funded with tax dollars – they would have all been dead long ago.”
“All tax revenue comes from the free market,” Nate added. “So it was still the private sector that made it all work. Government governs best when it helps grease the skids of commerce with proper laws to prevent fraud and other problems, and then just steps aside. People say there should be a balance of government and free commerce. Well, my idea of proper balance is 99% free market and only 1% government.”
“I seem to have gotten you two Southern front porch philosophers going,” Jacobson said. “I didn’t see any of you people turning down the Army’s help when we showed up. The last time I checked the Army is government.”
Austin almost laughed. “True, but you seem to forget that help came with a hell of a price. Some of our people were killed by soldiers, including children. And how long did it take you to get here? A lot of people have died over the last 13, 14 months, waiting for help. They paid dearly for that mistake, didn’t they?”
“Come on,” the butter bar lieutenant said. “Most of our personnel died in the plague along with everyone else. We’ve been struggling with little resources. And you can’t blame us for a colonel going nuts.”
Nate and Austin exchanged glances but said nothing.
“Austin, your little speech reminds me of something that’s been worrying me about this farm,” Nate said, carrying the conversation along. “I expect just about the time the government gets back on its feet it’ll show up and start taking names. Anyone involved with this farm will probably be arrested for environmental crimes. They may even come after me just for giving advice on the irrigation system.” He took note of Austin’s reaction. “But I’ll take my chances on that. These people must eat.”
Austin nodded. “This is state land, so yes; they’ll want it back someday. It’s prime mosquito breeding grounds and valuable, don’t you know.” His eyes focused on Renee and Brian, who were more than 100 yards away and seemed to be enjoying each other’s company. “But they’ll play hell putting these people in prison for feeding themselves. How could they encourage people to commit armed robbery by proxy through the vote, telling the government to rob their neighbors to pay for so-called social programs, to the point there were sometimes more people on food programs than working a 40-hour job, and then turn around and arrest people for farming state land to feed their families during an emergency that made the Depression look like a minor problem? It seems to me if one wasn’t a crime under normal conditions, this can’t possibly be a crime when people are starving and there’s no government at all.”
Nate had a strange smile on his face. “You’re going to hate me, 2nd Luey, but Austin has given me more food for thought, so get ready for more backwoods Southern philosophy.”
“I can take it,” Jacobson said. “Just don’t blame everything on the Army.”
“Before I get to my little history lesson, I might mention that the reason the military has been so short on resources is because it’s the people in the private sector who normally provide those resources. The Army doesn’t manufacture its own weapons, ammo, uniforms, and it doesn’t grow its own food or drill for its own oil. When most of the civilian population died, it left the military with no support.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Jacobson admitted. “Without the massive civilian manufacturing capacity companies built up, the U.S. would never have been the ‘arsenal of democracy’ and WWII would have lasted much longer and exacted a much higher price.”
Nate thought for a moment about how to make his story as short as possible.
“Years ago, I read a journal written in the late 1700s. This guy from a Northeastern town described how some ‘lazy’ people went out into the wilderness and built a log cabin, cleared a field, and raised crops and a few chickens, hogs, and cows, plus hunted and fished to feed themselves. They did all of this with no modern equipment, just sweat, muscle, and backbone. But this guy called those pioneers lazy. Why? Because they didn’t work in town for money.
“Mind you they didn’t get a penny of welfare, food stamps, retirement, police protection, or any government services at all. Their children were not educated in a government school, and there were not even any roads. They cost the taxpayers nothing. Their lives entailed sunup to sundown backbreaking labor just to survive at a basic level. Yet, this guy called them lazy.
“Now. Fast forward to the last half of the 1900s and first part of the 2000s, when people who lived at others’ expense took offense to being called leeches and many liberals almost worshipped them as some kind of noble victims of society.” He shook his head and appeared to be sick to his stomach. “How in the hell did we go from calling pioneers, who worked long hard hours and didn’t cost the taxpayer dime to calling bums on social programs, who just sat on their butts waiting for the government to rob a taxpayer noble victims of Capitalism?”
Austin laughed. “The first sign of federal government coming back will be the IRS showing up and demanding we pay back taxes. They’ll need that money to restart the welfare state.”
Jacobson steered the conversation back to the farm. “I hope everyone who wants some of the bounty will be willing to do their part. If not, they’ll certainly be a burden to everyone else. Whoever’s put in charge should come up with a system that requires every able-bodied adult to work before they get much of the crop.”
“Yeah,” Nate said. “But I don’t want that job. Despite my rant, I fully understand it’s not easy to let people go hungry, not even lazy bums.”<
br />
Austin laughed again. “You’re an old softy, Nate.”
Nate almost rolled his eyes.
Chapter 19
Deni slept on a couch in the living room of an abandoned home. It was two o’clock in the morning, and she was dead to the world after a long hard day. Despite her deep sleep, the sound of distant screams managed to wake her. She jumped up with her rifle in hand. Running to the back door, she peered out the window, but couldn’t see where the sound was coming from. Another scream sliced through the dark night. Her mind groggy, she unlocked the door and swung it open. Leading with her M4, she walked barefoot out onto the wet grass. A popping sound from somewhere in the neighborhood echoed in the gray fog, like a gunshot or a firecracker, followed by more screams. She couldn’t tell where it came from.
After running back inside, she snatched up her radio from the coffee table. “Shots fired in the neighborhood. Is anyone on it?”
The radio squelched, and a voice came back, “This is Foster, Sergeant. We’ve got teams coming in from three directions. I’ll report back once we know something. You might as well stay where you are and get some rest. Foster over.”
“You do that,” Deni said. “Report back to me in fifteen minutes. Heath out.”
She sat down on the couch and rubbed her eyes, thinking she might try to get a little more sleep before the radio call came in. It took her all of 5 seconds to kill that thought. She slipped on her socks and boots. By the time Private Foster called back, she had rousted three soldiers and the four of them were in a HUMVEE heading in the direction she had heard the gunshots and screams.
Private Foster spoke over the radio. “It’s a bad one. One dead woman. Shot in the chest.”
“Just a woman?” Deni asked. “No children?”
“No one else in the house. Looks like a kid did live here, though. A little girl.”
One of the soldiers swore under his breath.
