Survivors

by Rich Goldhaber

  Manny interrupted, “Things will never be back to normal. I’ve lost my wife and two children and all of my friends. How can things ever be normal again?”

  “Manny, you’re absolutely right. It will never be the same, but all of us working together can bring back the electricity, the telephones, fresh water, working toilets; all the things we have all taken for granted. Together we can do this. “But there’s one much more important reason why you and your friends need to move in with us.”

  “What is that?” he asked. “For years immigrants who work the fields have been treated like second-class citizens. This is a chance to change all of that. By coming to live with us, you will be treated as equals, because we will all need each other, and working together we will learn to live together and to appreciate what each culture brings to our new society.

  “Will it be easy? Probably not. There will be some of our people who will never change, but I know almost everyone and most are the type of people who will rise to the challenge and embrace you and your friends with open arms.

  “And there’s one more thing; I see your group has three children. We are going to start a school for children and they will be taught how to be good engineers and doctors and farmers. One of those children back there may become the next leader of our community. This is your chance to change things for the better. Please seize this opportunity and join us. If things don’t work out, you can always leave.”

  Manny was crying now. He held his head in his hands, and the tears were streaming down his cheeks. He finally looked up and turned toward me. “My friend, you speak strong words of truth. Perhaps God meant this as a test for all of us to find a way to live together in peace. I will talk to my friends. We will have to vote on whether to come to the university, but I believe I can convince them with the same words you used. You are right, this is our chance.

  “We are all hard workers here, and I am sure we can all contribute to the community. What can we do to help?”

  “Manny, we are going to need to provide food for everyone. Much of the fresh produce we purchased in the past was grown in this area. You need to help us learn how to grow the food we are going to need. Please don’t misunderstand what I am saying; I don’t want you to grow it for us; that will not change anything. Instead, I want you to work with us to grow our food, and of course many of you will have other skills our community will need. We need each other.”

  We stood up, and Manny embraced me. He looked at me and said, “My friend, together we will make this work.”

  We walked back to the others in the backyard, and Manny began speaking to his friends in a combination of English and Spanish. He spoke for almost half an hour, and his friends were captivated by his speech. Finally there was silence, and then he must have asked for a show of hands, because everyone raised their hands in unison. Manny looked at me and said, “It is done my friends. We will come tomorrow, and we will bring truckloads of fresh produce.”

  I made it a point to hug each of the people there and welcome them each to our community. Everyone followed us to Blaine’s airplane and waved to us as we flew into the air.

  When we were aloft, Blaine asked, “My God Jim, what did you tell him?” “I told him this was the chance for his people to finally be treated as equals, and how important it is for us to make that dream a reality.” I looked at my watch. It was only eleven o’clock. “Where to now my friends?”

  Josh said, “Let’s fly north. I think there’re some dairy and cattle ranches west of Lake Okeechobee.”

  It took us another twenty minutes to reach the Lake Okeechobee area. Blaine began searching a grid just west of the lake. We were looking for any survivors, and if we really got lucky, perhaps a cattle rancher or dairy farmer. Our little airplane maintained a cruising altitude of 1500 feet. We moved steadily westward as we flew repetitious north south runs.

  We finally saw a person waving just outside a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. Blaine changed course and dropped down to 200 feet. As we flew over the young woman’s head, she jumped up and down. Blaine set the plane down on a narrow paved road and taxied up to the dirt road leading to the woman’s house.

  The tall slender woman, perhaps in her late twenties, was out of breath by the time she reached us. She stopped in front of us, and between large gulps of air, we found out her name was Barbara Gordon. Her family had owned this dairy farm for three generations, and she was the sole survivor. We were the first people she had seen since her father died four weeks ago. She invited us into her home.

  She offered us some water from a pitcher on the kitchen counter. She said, “We have a well and I’m using an old hand pump. The electricity went out about four weeks ago. I’ve been milking the cows by hand. I was going to give it one more week and then leave.”

  I explained all about our group of survivors living just north of Naples, and asked her if she wanted to join us. She walked over to the window and looked at her herd of cows grazing in the pasture. “I don’t know if I can leave all of this. It’s in my blood. It’s hard to just walk away from three generations of commitment.”

  I offered Barbara an alternative. “Barbara, what if we sent some people from our community to help you run the farm. We’ll set up a solar field to provide electricity, and we can help with other things. In exchange, you’ll teach our people how to run a dairy farm, and supply us with milk and other dairy products.”

  Barbara jumped at the chance. “I know how to make butter and cheese, and there’s a place nearby where we can pasteurize and bottle the milk.”

  “Fly back with us now Barbara. Tonight we’ll ask for volunteers to help you at the farm. We’ll ask people to take one-month shifts. That way we’ll be able to train a lot of people. Maybe in six months we’ll be able to find people who want to make a long-term commitment, and that’s how we’ll establish a whole new farming community.”

  Barbara thought about my plan and then nodded in agreement. “It just might work. Give me a minute; I want to bring some pictures of the farm.”

  Barbara met us out at the airplane holding a picture album full of memories. She squeezed into the backseat with Josh, holding the pictures close to her chest. Blaine started up the plane’s engine and took off heading southwest. It took us almost thirty minutes to reach the campus and park the plane in its usual spot.

  Chapter 18

  The apartment complex was in a state of confusion. A busload of people and several cars had arrived from the Fort Myers area, and they were being processed by Margaret. Margaret shouted at me as we passed. “The water pressure is back to normal.”

  I found Jessie in her apartment and introduced Barbara. Jessie invited her in for a shower and change of clothes, and after I briefed Jessie on our day, Jessie asked Barbara to spend the night.

  My shower was the best one I can ever remember. It’s amazing how you take things for granted like a hot shower with ample water pressure until there isn’t any hot water or water pressure. After dressing, I wandered around the apartment complex welcoming each new arrival I met.

  Jessie and Barbara had both showered and were sitting in lounge chairs behind Jessie’s apartment. I pulled up a chair and Jessie poured me a glass of wine. “Have some cheese,” she said, “I found some Jarlsberg Swiss at Costco, and it really tastes great.”

  “How did things go?” I asked. “Great, Bill’s team can put together a whole field of solar arrays in just a couple of hours, but we’re running out of solar kits. Bill looked through Opti-Solar’s competition folder and identified a half dozen other suppliers in the Naples and Fort Myers areas. Tomorrow, we’re going to check out their inventory of systems. When we run out of those parts, we’re going to have to figure out a long-term solution.”

  “Any ideas?” I asked. Jessie had obviously been thinking through the problem. “The photovoltaic cells are the problem. I looked at Opti-Solar’s list of suppliers, and the photovoltaic cells are manufactured at a place just a little south of Orlando. I’m recomme
nding that we take a few trucks up there and move their equipment to the engineering campus. I’m sure they have pretty good standard operating procedures for their manufacturing process. It’ll take some practice, but I’m sure we’ll be able to duplicate their results.”

  “Well,” I said, “Now we have two reasons to go to the Orlando area: the solar cells and the Publix Replenishment Center. Josh is certain they must have a backup power supply when the electrical power goes down. He remembered overhearing the managers where he worked saying their insurance company insisted on the backup power at the replenishment center or they’d cancel their policy. Josh said they must have several million dollars’ worth of frozen meat stored there.”

  I sliced a large piece of Swiss cheese. “Josh, you, and I can spend tomorrow planning how to make that happen.”

  Barbara started to cry; something we said had triggered some bad memory. We all had to go through this; it was sort of like post-traumatic stress syndrome. Jessie and I let Barbara come to terms with whatever was bothering her and then she finally spoke. “I’m sorry, I was just thinking about what you were both talking about; you’re a real community here. Last week I thought about ending it all. I had a gun in my hand, and I was sitting on a bench where my family and all my relatives are buried.

  “I actually thought I might be the last living person on the planet. It was a terrible feeling. I was sitting there talking to my father and mother. It was funny; I knew they couldn’t hear me, but for a moment I thought I could actually sense their presence.

  “I had that gun in my hand, and it was shaking, and then I heard my mother. I swear I could hear her say not to do it; she told me help would be arriving in a few days. Her voice was so clear; I was almost in shock. She never spoke again, but I put the gun away and never thought about suicide after that day.

  “I was thinking about her just now and how lucky I was to have you find me. She knew; she must have known you’d be coming.”

  Jessie and I both took Barbara in our arms and provided the type of comfort that can only come with physical contact. She finally stepped back and thanked us. She tried to smile and then picked up her glass of wine. “Let’s have a toast,” she said.

  Jessie and I lifted our glasses and Jessie said, “Margaret taught us a Jewish toast; it’s l’chaim, and it means to life.”

  We touched our glasses, and together we said l’chaim. With Barbara now back to normal, we all shared the stories of our lives. Barbara had a degree in Agricultural Engineering from Florida State University. Her skills would be a great addition to our community.

  Beth, as promised, had fixed Mr. Bear for dinner. She had taken some large stock pots from Costco and had fixed bear stew. The meat was a little tough, but Beth had managed to scavenge a variety of vegetables from the Costco produce section. Jack and Bobby and their new friends said they had all helped fix dinner.

  After dinner, Margaret handed me an update of her spreadsheet. We now had a total of 259 residents plus Barbara. I tapped my spoon on a glass to get everyone’s attention and then stood up. “Today was a very productive day. I’m told that our Costco now has electricity, and the frozen food there has been saved. The place has been cleaned up, and I think it will become our food pantry for the near future.”

  Everyone clapped and after the noise subsided I continued. “I want to welcome our new arrivals from Fort Myers Beach, Fort Myers, and Cape Coral. We are very pleased you have decided to join our community. This morning Blaine, Josh, and I flew over to Immokalee and found twenty-two survivors. They will be arriving tomorrow to join us. We are going to need their skills. Many of them have worked the fields there, and with help from all of us, we’re going to have a continuing supply of fresh fruit and vegetables.”

  There was another round of applause and then I continued. “In the afternoon, we flew up further north and found Barbara Gordon. Barbara, please stand. Finding Barbara has given our community a wonderful opportunity. How many here would like to have fresh milk again?”

  About a dozen children raised their hands. “Well Barbara owns a dairy farm just a little west of Lake Okeechobee. There’re enough cows there to keep us supplied with milk and butter and cheese, but she’s going to need our help to keep the farm going, so here’s what I’m asking.

  “We need some of you to agree to spend a month up there getting the farm up and running again. If you like the lifestyle then you can continue to work there. If not then you can return and another volunteer will take your place. Here’s the thing; I think there needs to be one major rule for a person to stay in our community. They need to agree to help out in some way unless they’re sick or disabled. Every person here can contribute in some way. Even our children can contribute by going to school.”

  There were a few moans from the older children. “No,” I said, “you will become our future scientists and engineers and doctors. We need you to study hard so you can all become the future leaders of our community.”

  Again there was a burst of applause. “So after dinner, if you’re interested in signing up to work on the dairy farm, then Barbara will be sitting at this table and will show you pictures of her farm and explain what needs to be done. I encourage you to talk to her. I can tell you, she will be a wonderful person to work with.

  “Now, as we discussed last night, we’re going to have elections soon. Patty, could you please explain to everyone how our election will work.”

  Patty, who was at a table near the back, walked up to the front and explained the election process. She ended her little speech by encouraging everyone who wanted to run for office to get their applications in the box out in front of Building H by the end of the day tomorrow.

  Margaret asked to be heard. “I just want to let everyone know I’m going to publish a daily newspaper with all of the highlights of the previous day. We’re all accomplishing so many things each day, and with all the new people, we need to let everyone know what’s happening; so please let me know if you have something interesting to report.”

  Again there was a round of applause, and I was encouraged once again at how everyone seemed to be figuring out how they could contribute to our community, without being asked.

  I saw Beth working in the kitchen and decided to pay her a visit. “Beth, the bear stew was the best I ever ate.”

  Her answer was quick, “And of course you are undoubtedly a person who appreciates the most unusual cuisines. I’d venture to say it was also the worst bear you ever ate.”

  “And you’d be right. Really though, it was pretty good. It tasted a little bit like chicken.” We both laughed, and then I asked a more serious question. “How are things coming in the food department?”

  “Good, I’ve found a half dozen volunteers to help out. We agree on a menu, and then some of us go to various stores and homes and scavenge for the right ingredients. Yesterday, one of the guys was attacked by wild dogs. It’s becoming more dangerous. I had four of the men find some additional electric stoves at Home Depot, and one of George’s people wired them up for me. Now we barely have enough to cook for all the people. I’m going to need a new kitchen soon, or else people will have to fix their own meals in their apartments.”

  I thanked Beth for her good work and then found Jessie, George, and Bill sitting at one of the tables. I poured myself a cup of coffee and began looking at Margaret’s updated spreadsheet. Jessie was talking to Bill and George about acquiring the ability to manufacture our own photovoltaic cells. A newly arrived skill caught my attention. I stood up and shouted, “Is Isaac Molten here?”

  A thin man in his late twenties, just a little under six feet tall approached our table with a great deal of suspicion. I introduced myself and everyone at the table and asked him to join us for a cup of coffee.

  “Isaac, I understand you worked for Verizon. What did you do there?”

  “I was in the maintenance department. I did repair work on the cell towers.” The others suddenly began listening very carefully. I asked, “Is th
ere any way we can start the Verizon system up again?”

  “Sure,” he answered, “But only for local calls. Here’s what we need to do. I saw a cellphone tower on the edge of the solar field. All we need to do is power it up. Then people with a Verizon account can call each other as long as they’re in range of this one tower. Calls outside the range of this cell tower are the problem.”

  Jessie asked, “Why is that?” “Let’s say you’re calling someone in Boston from here. Your call goes to this cell tower, and then the tower looks for where the other phone is located. Once it finds the other phone in Boston, it directs the call through fiber optic cables to the cell tower in Boston where the phone is located. Then that tower makes the connection to the phone inside that cell.”

  Bill asked, “So does that mean that if we all have Verizon cellphones we can call each other?”

  “In theory yes, but each phone has to be activated by setting up an account.”

  Jessie asked, “Can we just go down to the Verizon office and set up new accounts?” Isaac thought for a moment, “No, that won’t work because the server used to set up accounts is located in Lakeland Florida, and with the internet down, that server isn’t working.”

  Jessie smiled. I was learning to associate this coy smile with the solution to big problems. “So Isaac,” she said, “What would happen if we went up to the place in Lakeland and stole their server? We can bring it down here and use it to activate accounts right here.”

  Isaac thought about Jessie’s solution and burst into laughter. “Yes, that would work, and I’ve been to the headquarters. I even know where they keep the server.”

  I said, “Isaac, I want you to think about everything we need to make the server work. We’re planning on making a trip to that area of the state in a few days. Gather all the tools you’ll need, and if you need any help, just ask any of us.”

  As Isaac left, a tall very thin middle-aged man in his forties approached our table and introduced himself as the Reverend Paul Wooden. “I’m the minister at the First Presbyterian Church in Cape Coral. I just wanted to let you know that everyone here has undergone a great deal of stress in the last few weeks, and I’ll be happy to help out anyway I can.”