by Wilson Harp
I never thought I would have to wear shoes and carry an umbrella just to pee in the morning, but here I was. Dad had hung two large, blue, plastic tarps over the entry to the garage the evening before, and it seemed to be effective. Even with the strong winds and heavy rains, the garage had remained dry.
I hopped and skipped across the muddy, puddle-riddled lawn back to where the outhouse was. Dad had built the privy in two days from scrap lumber and items in his work shed. It was well constructed. No rain had worked its way through the seams and joints of the small building. He had even brought out the seat from the main toilet and had installed the toilet paper holder.
Thanks to Mom being a little obsessive over having enough toilet paper ‘in case company drops in’, we still had an ample supply six weeks after our lives had shifted to this existence.
I had set the umbrella in the corner of the small enclosure and realized I had done the job the storm had failed to do; there was a small puddle of water in the outhouse. I mumbled about my own stupidity, picked up the umbrella and opened the door. I was about to step out when an odd sound caught my ear.
With the light rain and low wind, the morning was abnormally quiet. But I clearly heard a chain being moved next door at the Johnson’s. I leaned out of the outhouse and looked at the neighbor’s backyard. Bennie Johnson had a small shed he had bought for storage, and he had a light chain and padlock keeping it shut.
A man was pulling at the chain and had fit his arm inside the gap he had created.
“Hey,” I said as I stepped out of the outhouse. “What do you think—“
The man darted away from the sound of my voice without looking toward me. He was ready to run at the first noise, and had shot out like a rabbit knowing there was a hawk in the air.
I stood stunned. I looked around, but he was gone and I had no idea who he was or where he could have run to. I went back into the garage, propped the umbrella up to dry and stepped into the kitchen.
“Shoes off,” Dad said as I stepped in.
I kicked off my shoes and sat at the table.
“I think we should shut our garage door,” I said. I spoke low so Mom wouldn’t hear.
“Why?” asked Dad. He cut his eyes to me, but didn’t move otherwise.
“I saw someone trying to break into the Johnson’s shed as I was leaving the outhouse.”
Dad nodded. “Someone tried to pry open the door to my shed. They also came through and took a couple of wrenches and screwdrivers from the garage the other day.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Everyone has enough to worry about. I figured it was some bored kid looking for a thrill. Not like he can sell the tools for money or anything.”
“I don’t like it, Dad. And this wasn’t a kid. It was an adult.”
Dad pushed himself back from the table and looked at me. “What did he look like?”
“Blue hoodie, jeans, medium build.”
“See his face?”
“No.”
“What shoes was he wearing?”
“Don’t know, didn’t pay attention.”
“Okay. He sounds like he rattled you a bit. I’ll see if we can file a report with Deputy McDaniels. Maybe he has some information and we can put a stop to this behavior.”
I nodded. This had rattled me, but I wasn’t sure why.
“I’ll see if I can find him next time I go back into town,” I said. “But it doesn’t look like it will be today.”
Dad shook his head. “No, I think this is one of those days where we should hunker down and eat a few cans out of the pantry.”
“Really? What should we have?” Mom asked. She was on her feet and moving to the cabinet where we had the last of our long term food.
“I didn’t think she was listening to us,” I said.
“I did. If I hadn’t told you to take your shoes off, I would have caught it later.”
“What about some chicken noodle soup and for dessert some fruit cocktail?” Mom said, holding both cans out for our inspection.
“Sounds great, dear,” Dad said. “I didn’t think it was quite a fruit cocktail day, but now I see it, I can’t think of a better thing to eat.”
“I’m going to go read and see if I can figure out that radio,” I said as I stood from the table. “When will we eat?”
“I think we can probably get the soup going soon and then we can save the fruit for later in the afternoon,” Mom said. She was digging through her neglected cookware looking for the right pan. “Do we have any clean water to boil?”
“Not sure, Mom,” I said. “Maybe you can just hold the pan out the front door and catch some rain.”
Mom swatted at me with a ladle. “Don’t be a smart aleck. Now, go get some water from the pump.”
“Okay, Mom,” I said as I bent and picked up my shoes. “But I expect to get a cherry in my portion of fruit cocktail for getting cold and wet for you.”
I grabbed the water bucket and umbrella in the garage and headed out into the light rain. Sarah Johnson was at the well pumping water for her grandparents.
“Hi David,” she said. “Rain is nice, huh?”
She was soaking wet and all smiles.
“No umbrella or jacket?”
“As hot as it’s been, this is a nice change,” she said. “There, pump’s all yours.”
“Thanks, Sarah.”
She waved goodbye and headed back to her house.
I set the bucket under the spout and started pumping. Sarah was a couple of years younger than Emma and she had adjusted quite well to her situation. I remember the day she broke. Ted explained everyone would break at some point. He said once the normalcy bias had worn off and people accepted the new normal, there would be some trigger, some word, some event that would cause people to just break inside. It was the final step to the release of the previous existence and what would allow people to plan a future where they couldn’t go back. Or even look back.
Sarah had broke when her grandmother’s cat didn’t come back home one night. She cried and bawled. Not for the cat, which she did care for, but for her parents and brothers. For her friends at school, her neighborhood, her house, her life. It was all gone and she realized there was nothing she could do to get them back. And there was nothing anyone else could do either.
Some people break and they can’t deal with it. Hank Kroner was the first suicide and Sharon Little was the most recent, but over two hundred had taken their own lives in Kenton. Two hundred people had been broken and had not been able to see a way forward.
Sarah had cried for four days, even after the cat had returned. She went through the process of letting her past go and she now made each day better for herself and her grandparents. She would make it. She would push through.
I wondered if Lexi and Emma had broken yet. When they broke, would they be able to face it like Sarah?
I picked up the full bucket of water and started back to the house. The rain had picked up and I was soaking wet. I would need to dry off and change clothes before I found a book to read. I had to read. I had to escape. Because the truth was, I had not had my break yet.
Chapter 12
The clouds thinned that night and the sun shone brightly the next morning. I was up early, before the first rays of light touched the muddy fields across the street, and went into the kitchen.
Dad had beaten me to the table, as usual, and was reading the book I had left out the night before.
“I never understood why you needed these books,” he said. “But then, I wasn’t much of a reader myself.”
“What do you think?” I asked.
“Pretty interesting, once you get over the fact he isn’t writing about things in our world.”
“Hobbits and elves and stuff?”
“That, but I was referring more to the ideas of honor and chivalry and duty,” Dad said. “This Tolkien guy really missed the world that had left him behind.”
“That’s true, he really did,” I said as
I poured a cup of water from the drinking pitcher.
“How is your stomach doing this morning?”
“Not bad,” I said. “I woke up with some heartburn a couple of times.”
“The sugar in the fruit cocktail,” Dad said. “Didn’t think about how much we had been away from that kind of food.”
“I didn’t realize how much I missed it. I would have thought after a while, it wouldn’t have tasted as good as it did.”
Dad turned a page in the book. “Food companies spent millions and billions of dollars on making us like their product so we would keep buying it.”
“True. I do miss Oreos.”
Dad smiled. “Everyone will dream of cookies.”
“Until cookies are just a distant memory.”
“I suppose so.”
“Are you going into town today?”
“Probably. I want to check on the beet field first, but if it is too wet to harvest them, I plan on going into town to see if anyone brought in any old radios.”
“When you do, look for Deputy McDaniels and report our prowler. I think I saw him near the Johnson’s again last night.”
“Okay. I’ll let him know what is going on.”
I prepared for the day and left the house. I walked out to the street and looked across the soybean field toward where the beets were planted. I felt lightheaded and terrified as I saw the wheat field just beyond the beets and onions.
All of the tall, green stalks looked like they were lying on the ground. Several men were walking the edges of the area. Sometimes they spoke with each other, sometimes they bent down as if to examine the fallen plants. I glanced over at the corn field and released a deep breath. The corn was standing straight and tall in their appointed rows.
I hurried over across the soybean field. I was careful not to step on any plants and to make sure I didn’t slip and fall. When I reached the men, I could hear laughter of all things.
“David,” Luke said as I approached. “You look upset. Is everything alright?”
“I don’t know,” I said as I looked at the flattened field of wheat. “Did we just lose our wheat crop?”
Several of the men chuckled and one came over and slapped me on the shoulder. It was Nate Milton. He had the biggest vegetable garden in town before this happened and had been a farmer all of his eighty years.
“No son,” he said. His teeth looked rotten as he grinned at me. “The wheat just likes to lay down when it gets this wet. It will perk up again after a day or two in the sun.”
I smiled and looked over the field. None of the stalks seemed damaged and they all looked to be pressed down in a uniform manner.
“Good,” I said. “Good.”
“Glad you approve, David,” Luke said. “I guess I best be getting my work done for the day. And don’t feel bad, I came running across the field same as you when I saw the condition of the wheat. I thought we were going to be without bread for the whole summer.”
I smiled at Luke as he walked by me, but my eyes remained focused on the wheat. This close I could see the stalks were bent, not broken. And if Milton said they would be okay after a little sun, then that was good enough for me.
I left the wheat field and made my way over to the Marsh’s house. Millie was waiting for me with a bucket.
“Need four buckets of beets today, David,” she said. “I reckon most of the folks dug into their pantries a bit yesterday, but we have a few folks who are awfully hungry today.”
I saw there was a good sized coal pit with several big slabs of river rocks directly on the smoldering wood. There were more than a few aluminum foil packages sitting on top of the stones.
“Roasting the beets?” I asked as I picked up the bucket.
“Yep, some folks like beets in their stew, some don’t. Figured if we roasted them, then people could eat them as they like them.”
I nodded and went to the field and knelt with the small trowel Millie had placed in the bucket. The rain had muddied the field, but it wasn’t as easy to dig out the beets as I hoped it would be. The new growth of small white roots grabbed at the soaked soil.
It was probably ten o’clock by the time I filled the bucket. I wished I had carried my watch with me, but with as filthy as I had become, it was good I had developed the habit of leaving it on my desk.
I stood and carried the bucket over to Millie. She was in conference with several of the other women who had taken on the job of preparing the communal meals in their neighborhoods. They shared recipes, plans for what to serve, and trades for different foods.
Our area grew beets and onions, but not radishes or cabbage. Everybody grew wheat and corn, though. That was decided early on. The risk of a single fire or flooded field was too great to risk what would have to get us through the upcoming winter.
Millie saw me approach and made eye contact with me.
“Missus Marsh, I need to head into town. I’ll be back to get more beets in a couple of hours,” I said.
“Thank you, David,” She said. “I’ll get someone to help you today. Seems our beets are in demand.”
She smiled as she went back to her conversation.
I left the gathering of white haired women positive I never wanted to negotiate for anything serious with any of them. Especially Millie.
I headed up to Granger Street and turned toward town. As I headed north along the road, I made sure I looked down the drive of Buck Fredrickson. His house set back a ways and was screened by a row of low poplar trees.
There were a few men working around his garage as I passed. They were butchering the three deer he had taken and it looked like they were ready to tan the deer hides. I wondered if that was something some of these men knew from before, or if it was something they were practicing for the first time.
When this started, I would have guessed Ted might know how to skin a deer and tan its hide into leather, but now I’m sure he would have just read about it and would be willing to try with no hesitation. It was amazing how much he knew and yet how much there was still to know. It was also surprising the types of things other people knew how to do. Anne could tan that hide, of that I was certain. Sue Hanson knew how to set rabbit and squirrel snares. I would have never guessed she and her sisters made money back in high school by trapping foxes and selling their furs.
“Need a bath, David?” Ted said as I approached the steps of the library.
I looked down at my clothes and realized I was caked in mud.
“I guess so,” I said. “I was digging beets this morning.”
“Well don’t go tracking that in the library. What can I help you with?”
“Taking a break from the fields. Came in to see if anyone dropped off any electronics.”
Ted shook his head. “Not today, sorry.”
“Have you seen Deputy McDaniels?”
Ted looked around and shook his head. “No, he, uh…” He trotted down the last couple of steps to stand close to me. “He’s been at Lester’s more and more recently. I’m pretty sure he is sleeping there some nights. Maybe most by now.”
I was stunned. Deputy McDaniels sure didn’t like Ted and he really did not like Lester Collins. When Ted announced the deal Lester put forward, McDaniels protested in the strongest terms. He even accused Ted of setting up the deal himself and claimed Lester and Ted were working together.
If Anne hadn’t been there to confirm the story, I suspected Ted might have been arrested.
Of course, there was no jail in Kenton. There was no police force either. The country sheriff handled all of our law enforcement issues and they were based in Wilcox. Our good deputy was the only sort of law man around.
And now he was up at the party camp.
“Do you know if he will be in today?” I asked.
“He has been crawling in here around noon or so. I didn’t come down from my place yesterday, so I don’t know if he was here. I haven’t seen him yet this morning.”
“Okay,” I said. “I don’t want to m
ake a mess in the library. Could you get me a sheet of paper and a pen? I need to file a report with him.”
“Sure,” Ted said. He climbed the stairs and went in the library.
I leaned back on the bike rack and rolled my neck.
“Hey, David.”
Deputy McDaniels turned the corner of the Library and started toward the steps.
“Hey Gary,” I said.
He reeked of booze and pot. His uniform was unwashed and it looked like he had slept in it for weeks. He likely had. Mayor Mueller said when he was at the deputy’s place, he noticed there were three other uniforms hung neatly in the closet. I noticed he wore his service belt, but his handgun was not in his holster.
The deputy started to amble past me.
“Gary,” I said. “I need to report something.”
He swayed some as he looked back at me. His eyes weren’t focused and his posture indicated some unease with his balance. Hung-over or already stoned I assumed.
“What you got for me, Hartman?” he asked.
“We’ve had a problem with someone getting into our garage and our shed. In fact, a few folks down that way have had problems.”
“You see anyone?”
“Yesterday morning, saw someone try to get into the Johnson’s shed. When I shouted, he took off.”
“Know who it was?” McDaniels asked. A small smile had crept onto his face.
“No, didn’t get a good look.”
“You don’t know who it is, but you want me to do something about it. Is that what you want?”
“No, I just wanted to report it.”
“Of course. I’ll just get right on that. Someone breaking into your stupid garage. Yeah, that’s what I’ll concern myself with,” he said. The sneer on his face and the anger in his voice caused me to step back.
“Here’s the paper and pen, David,” Ted said as he came out the door of the library. “Do you still need them?” He asked as he joined McDaniels and me at the bottom of the steps.
“No, I don’t think so, Ted,” I said. “I have already given the message to Gary.”
“If you’re looking for who might be breaking into places, you might want to check with Ted here, or his friend Kenny. Wouldn’t surprise me at all,” McDaniels said. “They know where everyone lives. They know what everyone has. And they still keep their own people away from town like we are infected with something.”
