Among his many financial considerations, Katie’s dad had somehow managed to acquire a substantial long-term food-storage system, which held within it many years’ worth of dehydrated and freeze-dried foods. As it turned out, it had been a good decision. Once the food in the freezer and pantry had been used up, Katie and her family had been living off what they had stored in the basement. It had gotten them through the first winter after the power had gone out, and it appeared to her, although she had no perceptible way of knowing, that it could last her family another four or perhaps five winters if they rationed properly.
Katie had tried most of the brands already and had assigned her favorites. She preferred the foods from the large colorful coffee cans made by a company called Thrive. Several pallets of assorted Thrive foods sat against the basement wall to her left, most of which were still wrapped in the black plastic they’d been shipped in. The brand used a block-lettering font and colors that reminded Katie of baby or toddler food packaging, and their freeze-dried offerings simply tasted better to her than the other brands. Once rehydrated, it was like eating normal food. This was a good thing, because Katie had been a picky eater her entire life. The other brands in the basement didn’t taste nearly as good to her, and in comparison to the items in the Thrive inventory, she considered them substandard, even expendable.
Katie dropped the large empty duffel bag she’d been carrying on her shoulder onto the floor near the food buckets and began transferring bag after bag of assorted foods into it. By the time the duffel reached capacity, she’d removed the contents of four buckets. She took the empty buckets and stacked them behind the full ones, alongside other stacks of empties left over from previous visits. Hiding the empties in this fashion had worked for her so far, but Katie knew that eventually her methods would have to change. She would need to devise a plan to dispose of them somehow, or she would indeed get caught.
Katie knew if her plan was ever exposed, she’d surely get into trouble, but it certainly wouldn’t be the end of the world. In her mind, it wasn’t wrong to help people in need—in fact it was by far the right thing to do. Katie was helping another family survive a crisis. And it wasn’t just any family. It was her best friend’s family—and they possessed very little compared to what Katie and her family had. She’d been helping them for months now, and she’d always been careful to take nothing but the foods that her family didn’t eat often. The dwindling quantities would be the last to be noticed, and with any luck, this whole thing would be over before they were necessitated. Then it wouldn’t matter anymore.
Katie hoisted the duffel and made her way to the basement door that led outside her home, while sliding a pair of moccasins on her feet. She opened the door and shined the flashlight out onto the concrete staircase that led to her backyard. Shouldering the door closed behind her, she again masked the flashlight beam with her palm and ascended the stairs. Once in the backyard, she hopped a short barbed-wire fence and ran across an open field that made up a portion of her family’s property. Katie and her parents lived in a prominent rural subdivision. The homes located within it were some of the largest built in Shenandoah County. Some of the yards there were as big as pastures, and her family’s yard was no different.
After a short run, Katie reached a tall wooden privacy fence. The moon was offering her enough light to operate now, so she turned off her flashlight and slid it into her back pocket. She hoisted the duffel bag and, with some effort, managed to push it up and over the fence. Finding a foothold that she was familiar with, she hurdled the fence, her feet landing on the other side beside the duffel.
Katie pulled out her flashlight and pressed the momentary button several times, illuminating a window on the first level of the home. A few seconds later, a back door opened and a young girl emerged. She ran hurriedly to where Katie knelt. The two girls embraced.
“Hey, you,” Katie said as she pulled away and looked her friend over. “How’ve you been holding up?”
“Pretty good,” the girl said with a sniffle. “Just been sick for a couple of days. I think it’s a cold or something.” The girl looked around cautiously as if to settle her paranoia. “Did anyone see you?”
“No. I was careful,” said Katie. “I’m always careful.”
“How much did you get?” the girl asked as she eyed the duffel. “Looks like a lot.”
“I guess a week’s worth or so,” Katie replied. “It depends on how much you guys are eating. I can always get more if you need it.”
“Jesus, Katie. I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. There’s plenty more.”
The girl nodded. “Yeah, you’ve said that before. I just feel bad that you’re doing this for us,” she said. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
“I can’t let you guys starve to death, Morgan.”
“Heh—you’ve said that before too. What are you going to do if you get caught?”
“I honestly don’t think I’m going to. There’s plenty of food…and all this will probably be over soon anyway,” Katie said. “In the meantime, I can’t let my best friend starve because her dad didn’t prepare like mine did. It wouldn’t be right.”
Morgan nodded and pressed her lips together. “All my dad talks about is going to the FEMA camp for help. He says eventually we won’t have a choice. None of us want to, though. It’s so scary.”
“I know it is,” Katie said. “But it would be a lot worse without food to eat.”
“Yeah. Well, for what it’s worth, we all appreciate everything you’re doing. You really are saving our lives, Katie,” Morgan said. “And I love you for it.”
The two hugged again and Katie pushed the duffel bag over to her friend.
“Go. Get out of here before you get caught,” said Morgan. “See you in a few days.”
Katie nodded, then turned and began to traverse the fence. Once on the other side, she hastily made her way back to her yard, down the concrete staircase, and back into the basement of her home. She closed the door behind her and locked the deadbolt. When she turned around, a flashlight beam hit her in the face. She jumped in fright and began to scream until she heard a familiar voice.
“Katie! What the hell?”
It was her father. He stood before her in his pajama pants, his voice panicked and his body tensed. Now realizing the noises he’d heard didn’t belong to someone trying to burglarize his home, he moved the flashlight beam away from Katie’s eyes and onto the floor. Katie rubbed her eyes of the tears invoked by the sudden brightness and looked up at him. As she began to regain her vision, she could see that he was holding a baseball bat in his other hand.
“Jesus, child. What in the hell do you think you’re doing? Are you crazy or something? You can’t just go outside the house by yourself like that!” her dad barked.
Katie jumped at the harshness of her dad’s voice. “I’m sorry, Dad,” she said, her voice alluding that she felt ashamed, but mostly startled by the sudden encounter with her father.
“Where did you go?” he questioned. “Who did you meet? Are you okay?”
“I’m all right, Dad,” Katie muttered.
“Dammit. You scared the hell out of me, Katie.”
He leaned the baseball bat on the wall, sighed, and gave his daughter a hug. She buried her face in his chest, just like she’d always done growing up. Katie was and had always been the embodiment of a daddy’s girl.
“I went to see Morgan,” Katie admitted.
The embrace ended as Katie pulled away from her dad, but his hands remained on her shoulders.
“Morgan? This early in the morning? What for? Do you feel you need to sneak around to see her?”
“No,” Katie responded. “Not really…”
“Then why the cloak-and-dagger stuff?”
Katie cocked her head as if not understanding what he’d meant initially. She didn’t offer a response. Her dad soon sighed and relented.
“Okay, look,” he began. “I�
��m sorry. I’m just a little freaked out. I thought someone was trying to break in. And then I see you, find out you’ve been outside sneaking around, and now I’m—well, should I be worried about you? It’s dangerous outside the house, Katie.”
“Dad, I’m fine,” said Katie. “I just went to see Morgan. That’s all.”
Her father took a deep breath, sighed, nodded a few times, and then finally yielded his stance. He took a step back and crossed his arms.
“How is she?”
Katie looked left and then looked right as if searching for an answer. “She’s not good,” she said. “She’s lost a lot of weight and she’s sick again.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said with a frown and a conceding nod. “It’s unfortunate, but weight loss has become commonplace. The world’s become a tougher place and food isn’t easy to come by. Everyone is hurting now, Katie.”
“Not us,” Katie protested, her head turned away from her father.
“Yes—even us,” her father disagreed. “I know it doesn’t look that way, but—”
“Dad, are you blind? We have a basement full of food,” Katie interrupted, her arms animated. “We have fuel to run heaters. We have clean water, medicine, we even have a library of books to read—I’ll probably have a master’s degree before this is over.”
“Katie—”
“Dad, listen to me. We have literally everything we need. I mean—have you looked around lately? We’re fine. Hell, we’re more than fine. It’s people like Morgan and her family that we need to worry about. They have nothing.” Katie crossed her arms and hung her head. “It’s not fucking fair.”
Katie’s dad’s eyebrows rose and he shook his head admonishingly at her. “I don’t know where all this is coming from, but I’d appreciate it if you’d not use that word in front of me,” he tutored.
Katie huffed. “Sorry. I just wish we could help, that’s all.”
“It’s okay,” he said, and then paused a moment. “Look…let me go through our things, see what we have a surplus of, and maybe I’ll consider offering them some assistance. As long as you understand, though, that we can’t make a habit of helping all without exception. You do realize that, right?”
“Yeah, Dad. I get that.”
“No, I don’t think you do,” her father said. “It’s serious business. If we offered help to everyone who’s in need right now, it wouldn’t be long before we’d run out of the things we need to keep ourselves alive, Katie.”
“Dad, I’m not stupid,” uttered Katie. “I don’t want to help everyone. I’m just worried about Morgan.”
Katie’s father’s expression changed for the better and he let out a sigh in resignation. He took his flashlight and shined it around the basement before turning around and motioning for her to follow him. The two walked back up the stairs to the hallway and then into the kitchen. There, Katie’s mother was present in her bathrobe, making a pot of coffee on the kerosene cooking stove, which had been placed upon the infrared cooktop that hadn’t been used in a year. A tall candle perched on the soapstone island counter was doing a mediocre job of illuminating the room.
Katie’s mother turned and smiled at her. “Good morning, sweetie.”
“Morning, Mom.”
“Want some coffee?”
“No, thanks,” Katie said. “I think I’m going back to bed. I didn’t get much sleep last night.” Katie gave her mom a hug, eyeballed her dad, and then exited the kitchen without another word.
“Jack…what’s that all about?” Katie’s mother asked after verifying her daughter’s bedroom door had shut.
“I wish I knew,” he replied. “She seems okay, but looks can be deceiving with teenage girls.” He paused. “Hell, girls of all ages for that matter.”
His wife gave him a quick disapproving glare and then returned to her normal, unadorned look. “What was she doing in the basement?”
Jack shook his head. “I don’t know for sure, Maureen. But I’ve got a feeling we should start paying closer attention to our inventory,” he said somberly.
“You mean the food?”
Jack’s eyes widened. “Especially the food.”
Maureen took a seat at the table and, after placing a cup of hot coffee on the place mat, motioned for her husband to take a seat beside her. He did and immediately reached for his cup.
After taking a sip from her mug, Maureen asked, “You think she’s giving away our supplies?”
Jack nodded. “Yeah. I think she is.”
“To whom?”
“I don’t think she’s giving it to just anyone that comes along. Katie’s too smart for that. But I’m almost certain she’s helping the Staffords,” Jack said.
“Well, they’re good people, Jack. And Morgan is her best friend.”
“Of course they’re good people, Maureen, but they didn’t prepare for this. And just like everyone else that didn’t prepare, we shouldn’t feel obligated to be responsible for them,” Jack rebuked as he took another sip of his coffee. “Those supplies are ours. They belong to us—they’re for our family.”
Maureen scowled. She hesitated before responding. This was an all-too-familiar argument for her.
“Actually, if you want to get technical, those supplies are not ours. They don’t belong to us. They were for the Horton family,” she said candidly.
“Don’t you dare even go there right now, Maureen,” Jack snapped. “For God’s sake, the Hortons haven’t been home in over a year. They could be stranded in Mexico or somewhere along the way, or even dead by now. If they’ve been away this long, logic dictates they’ll probably never be back. So technicalities aside—what difference does it make?”
“Okay.”
“And if I didn’t take it, someone else certainly would’ve by now.”
“Okay,” Maureen said quietly, displaying her unwillingness to argue. “Whatever you say.”
“What…you still don’t approve of the actions I elected to take, do you?” Jack questioned.
“Jack Anderson, we’ve had this conversation more times than I can count. You know how I feel,” Maureen said as she set her mug down. She shivered a bit and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m glad we have the stuff—don’t get me wrong. It’s done more than just save us—we’ve been able to thrive because of it. I just don’t feel comfortable with stealing. That’s all. That’s my only stipulation.”
“That’s fine. You feel that way all you want,” Jack said. “But without taking what we needed when we needed it, we wouldn’t’ve been able to survive this—whatever the hell this is. I know that for a fact.”
“Okay,” Maureen murmured. “So the ends justified the means…and you have no reason to further explicate yourself.”
The room fell silent for a few moments. Maureen and Jack took alternating tastes of their coffee while exchanging an assortment of looks—the kind only a husband and wife could share with one another. It was as if they were having a subliminal conversation.
Maureen squirmed. “Jack, only one other thing bothers me. What if the Hortons do come back?” she pondered. “What then?”
Jack didn’t respond at first. Instead, he took some time to reflect upon his wife’s question. It had been a rough year, but his family was alive and well now—surviving only because he’d felt he’d made the right decision at a time when there’d been no other choice. He brought into mind how panicked he’d been when the power had stayed off for much longer than he’d expected, and how he had tried to start his brand-new Audi A8, which he’d been sure would take him to the Walmart in Woodstock to buy supplies, only to find it unresponsive after repeatedly pushing the start button. He recalled his initial confusion and the feeling of dread when he’d realized what he’d been experiencing wasn’t localized—and as well, the feeling of overwhelming fear when he knew that whatever was happening was destined to get worse—way worse.
Jack had purchased supplies for his family over the years, but had never gotten as serious about it as he�
�d liked to. He’d always felt that he had plenty of time and always put it off. He had about a weeks’ worth of stored food, a hundred cases of bottled water, and whatever bulk consumables he’d picked up on a whim when perusing the aisles at Costco. The pantry was always full, and he’d just assumed that what they had on hand would always be enough.
He had always intended to purchase a gun for protection, but never got around to mastering the logistics of doing so. Maureen was die-hard against them—and she didn’t want one in the house. She undoubtedly would’ve divorced him if she found him with one. Jack was pretty sure he could sell the idea to her, though, if he tried. His career had made him an expert at dealing with people and being able to close the sale even if the buyer didn’t need what he was selling. Jack had prioritized hundreds of things over purchasing and learning to use a firearm over the years. He wished now that he hadn’t.
Jack remembered conversations he’d had over the years with his neighbor Rob Horton, who was a business colleague of his, about securing preparations for the possibility of a future disaster. Rob had referred to it as the art or habit of prepping, where constituents made active preparations for the likelihood of forthcoming catastrophes by stockpiling food, ammunition, and other necessary supplies. Rob had often asked Jack if he was prepared when the topic would come up, usually over a beer, and would playfully mock Jack’s attempts at dismissing him.
This We Will Defend [Book 2] Page 2
