The Provider

by John Hunt

  There were two men, also with rifles, in the lobby. Dad recognized one.

  “Expecting trouble, Brian?” Dad nodded at the rifle.

  “We’ve already had some, Donald. We’re running shifts here to protect the stores, day and night.”

  “Any chance of food or water?”

  “Zilch, I’m afraid. What we have left we’re keeping for the sick and elderly. The minister and elders are out distributing it. But it’s getting more difficult, several of them have been robbed in the street. I didn’t think it would be like this. Maybe Alaskans are just like everyone else, after all. Though I hear we’ve got twelve thousand dollars in towards the building fund. So that’s good. No cloud without a silver lining, eh?”

  “So what should we do?”

  “You’ll just have to ration what you’ve got, Donald. We all have to. It’s been two days now. Can’t be long before this gets working again.”

  “Thanks, Brian. You take care now yourself. See you later.”

  All through the afternoon we heard gunshots from downtown. They sounded like firecrackers going off, like an all-day Fourth of July.

  “Donald, what’s going on downtown?” Mom asked.

  “I guess once people start shooting, if there’s no clamp down, it escalates,” Dad replied. “Most people here own a gun.”

  “I could borrow Bob’s, Dad,” I said, enthusiastically.

  “No way, absolutely not,” Mom replied firmly. “We’re not getting into any shooting wars.”

  From my bedroom window I could see several columns of smoke.

  Later that evening Dad called an “emergency council”. We sat around the kitchen table, along with Mrs. Maclaren and Bob, with mugs of coffee.

  “Joe Manning down the road knows someone with a ham radio,” Dad opened the meeting. “I wish we had one. He says the messages coming through are confused. No one seems to know when the power is coming back. There’s fighting in the cities. The government aren’t saying anything, other than to stay where we are. But people are leaving, where they can.” He got up and paced around the room. I’d never seen him so uncertain before. “We need to decide what to do. We’ve emptied the fridge, we’ve cooked what we could in the freezer, that will last us for a few days, but we’re nearly out of water. It’s a couple of miles to the nearest creek. I don’t fancy getting some without support.”

  “I’ve been keeping an ear to the ground,” said Bob. “The police and guard are starting to pull out. They’re just going home. Downtown, it’s everyone for themselves. Nobody’s giving a fuck. There are fires starting – arson or not, nobody seems to know. In this weather, people trying to cook, it’s easy for them to get out of control. There’s no water to put them out. The soldiers are confiscating guns, they’ll shoot you rather than talk. But there aren’t enough of them out there to keep order. I saw a camel, must’ve escaped from the zoo, the electric fences are down. There’ll be others – polar bears, wolves…”

  Bess’ face started to crumple. “Wolves? Are they going to come here?”

  “Honey,” Dad said, “they won’t, they’ll be running for the hills. Now, you can go to your room if you like. But if you want to sit here with us, you’ll need to be brave and not cry.”

  “I’m going to be leaving later today,” Bob told us. “You’re welcome to come with me if you want.”

  “Donald, it can’t be that bad, surely,” said Mom, sending Dad a worried look. “This is America, it’s the 21st century, it’ll come right. The government will send supplies in.”

  “You want to bet your lives on that?” Bob snorted. “I’m not. They’ll be looking after themselves.”

  “But that’s ridiculous, there’s plenty of food and water in this country, Bob. We don’t know what we’ll get into if we leave.”

  “There’s millions of cattle down in the plains, Mrs. Richards, and billions of chickens, but how are they going to get here with no transport? Most motors won’t start. Petrol pumps don’t work. There’s probably not more than a day’s food and water left in Anchorage, and quarter of a million people to feed. You know how much food that many get through every day? The supermarkets turn their stock over a couple of times a week. How are they gonna replace it? And it’ll be the same everywhere.”

  He stood up in front of the fireplace. “Look, I’ve got some beans and a bag of oats I can leave you, if you want to stay. I’ve always kept some in the cupboard, for emergencies. I can survive by myself, live off the land. Don’t eat much anyways. If you want, I’d like to help. But we’d have to move. Sooner the better. I’m going to be leaving tonight. The roads could be blocked any time. A few breakdowns, a crash – the traffic lights aren’t working. We need to head out to the bush, where we can find fresh water, fish. Trap game. We should get out now, while we can. You’ve heard the shooting, and it’s getting worse. People’ll be killing each other.”

  “Bob, most people aren’t like that at all!” Mom exclaimed.

  “Not when there’s food on the table and cops in the street, sure. But have you ever been without food for a few days? And anyway, you don’t need guns to kill. People are using the creeks as toilets, they’re dumping waste in them. Others are using them for drinking water. You know about these things, most don’t. How long before the city’s ill?”

  Mom opened her mouth, but then didn’t reply. I could see the force of that argument striking home. We were all quiet.

  Dad broke the silence. “Where would we head for?”

  “Dunno,” Bob said slowly. “Guess the interior would be best. Plenty of space. But most people will be heading out that way, to Fairbanks, and beyond. Glenn Highway is likely to be blocked. So I’d go south, to Kenai. A lot of its remote enough, and I know it. Or else along to the Qutekcak villages.”

  Dad dry washed his face. “I guess if we’re going to do this, we need to do it properly,” he said. “If we were on the coast, we’d have the sea to support us. But we’d need a boat for that. That’s going to be more important than a truck if this is going to carry on for long.”

  “That’s a good point, somewhere on the coast then.”

  “You mean steal a boat?” asked Mom, shocked. “How is this legit? You want us to go to prison?”

  Dad hesitated. “Let’s call it borrowing. And only if we have to. But I’d feel more comfortable with access to the sea. And anyway, we’ll have to break into somewhere to stay.”

  “Breaking in?” Mom raised her voice. “Donald, what are you talking about? Are you going mad?”

  “There are lots of empty holiday cabins around, Mary. We’re not going to hurt anybody. And we’ll need to be self-sufficient. We’ll need all the gear, enough for six, maybe for a week or two. I can’t quite get my head around it all yet.” He looked at Bob. “I don’t think we can be ready tonight. And I’d like to leave it to the last minute in case the power does come back on. But if we start packing now, how about first thing tomorrow?”

  Bob hesitated. “OK. I’ve got some of the necessaries, but probably not enough. Pack now, leave tomorrow.”

  Mom sighed. “Look, alright, if you insist on this. But I don’t like it. I expect the power will be back by then anyway.”

  “But I don’t want to go.” Bess pouted. “I want to stay with my friends.”

  “It’s only for a while, Bess,” Mom soothed. “Like a holiday.”

  “I don’t want to go on holiday. I’d feel safer here. The wolves are out there, not here, Dad said so.”

  “We have to do this together, Bess,” Dad said firmly.

  Mrs. Maclaren got up from her chair and spoke for the first time. “It’s the five of you. You’ll need to count me out, I’d just be a hindrance. I’ll stay here, look after the house for you.”

  “If we go, then you’re coming too, Mrs. Maclaren,” replied Mom. We’re not leaving you here, and that’s final.”

  “But I’d be an extra mouth to feed. And I wouldn’t be of any help. All I can do is quilt.”

  “You c
an always keep the lessons going with Jim and Bess,” Mom replied. “They can catch up with the schoolwork they’re behind on.”

  “Those aren’t the kind of lessons we’ll need,” said Bob. “But I agree with Mrs. Richards. Let’s go together. It won’t be safe for you to stay.”

  “If we’re going to do this, and be partners in crime, let’s at least be on first name terms,” said Mom. “Call me Mary, Bob. No more of this Mrs. Richards stuff, OK?”

  “OK, if you say so.”

  Mrs. Maclaren opened her arms in surrender. “All right, thank you, I’ll come. And please call me Louise.”

  “Donald,” said Dad.

  They shook hands.

  “OK folks,” Dad summed up, “it’s getting late. Let’s start, and I’ll set the alarm for five tomorrow.”

  NINE

  Bob got the Chevrolet truck started with a crank handle and brought it around onto our drive.

  “OK, let’s do this,” Dad said. “We may as well take all we can. I’ll start with the tools in the cellar. Mary, perhaps you could do the bedrooms and anything we could use from the attic? Jim, Bess, all the outerwear you can find, boots – empty the shed. Then we’ll get the food. Jim, those survival books of yours, see if they’ve got any tips on what to take. What was that guy’s name, Bear something? Spare batteries, candles, Bob – what do you have?”

  “Rifles, ammo, nets, maps, welding equipment. I’ve got a fifty gallon container of gasoline. And a couple of spare ones. Could you siphon the fuel out of your tanks, Donald? You know how to do it?”

  “How long are we going to be gone for?” Bess asked.

  “I don’t know, Bess,” Dad replied. “I hope not long. But best to take as much as we can rather than have to come back for it. Bob, I’ve got a few hundred dollars in cash – I’ll put that under the back seat here.”

  “What about my computer, can I take that?”

  “I don’t think there’s any point, Bess. And keep clothes to things that are going to be useful.”

  The truck seemed huge, but after a couple of hours we were running out of space. Bob said that Dad, me and Bess would need to be at the back, in the open, himself with the ladies in the cab, so he’d rigged up spaces for us on top of spare tires.

  The activity brought our friends Jerry and Marcia around from next door.

  “Donald, what are you doing? Where are you going?” asked Jerry.

  “We’re heading off for a few days, reckon it’ll be safer in the country,” Dad explained.

  “Have you told the office?”

  “No one there to tell, and I’m owed holiday, Jerry.”

  “You should have talked to us, Donald,” Marcia said.

  “Marcia, how much food and water do you have?”

  “Enough for three days or so,” she replied. “But there will be help coming.”

  “Disasters are not unusual,” Jerry added.

  “Seems to me that this one is, Jerry. Usually, they’re local, regional, whatever. Help soon comes from outside. But where’s it going to come from this time? This is national. Hell, seems like it’s all over the world. Now, we’re almost out of water. I don’t want to ask you if we can share yours again. So, we have to go.”

  “But what food and water there is, that’s right here, Donald.” Marcia looked upset. “Not out there in the bush.”

  “Can’t see the alternative, Marcia,” Dad replied. “And what are you going to do at the weekend, when you’ve run out, if the power’s still out, and the cavalry haven’t come? I don’t like this, but I don’t know what else to do.”

  More neighbors turned up, intrigued by the activity and talk.

  “But it’s against the law,” said Mrs. Stiglitz. “There’s a curfew. You’re much safer here. The government will have it under control soon.”

  “I’ve heard there’s an army convoy of lorries coming from Fairbanks with food and water,” added Mrs. Barrack.

  “I haven’t heard that, Mrs. Barrack. Are you sure? I’d heard that they were running out of food in Fairbanks as well. Where would they be getting more from?” Dad said.

  “But it feels like you’re deserting us, Donald, you should stay with us. Let’s stick together,” Jerry persisted. “If we don’t, what’s going to happen to us?”

  “Do you want to come with us, Jerry?” Dad asked.

  “What a thought!” exclaimed Marcia. “You think it’s safer out there with all those wild animals than here at home?”

  Mom came out carrying some boxes of gear. “Marcia, you know me, I’m not going near any wild animals. Spiders bring me out in a rash. Anything else, I don’t want to think about. We’ll be careful. Would be lovely if you could come as well, and I’m sure it will all be sorted out soon anyway.”

  “Want to tell us where you’re going, so we can send out a rescue party?”

  “Well, we don’t have anywhere definite to go to,” Mom replied.

  “You’ve all gone crazy as coons.” Marcia rolled her eyes in mock horror.

  “If Mrs. Maclaren’s going with you, who’s going to teach her classes? Will you be back for next term?” asked Mrs. Planck.

  “I’m sure we’ll be back by then, Amelia,” Dad said.

  “It’s the Russians,” grunted Mr. Poloski. “I heard they put a bomb in the sun. You shouldn’t leave. That’s what they want, to get us scared.”

  “The Russians?” Dad scratched his head. “How could they possibly bomb the sun, and why?”

  “No one knows what they can do, Donald, that’s why they’re so dangerous.”

  “You can’t flee the Judgement that’s coming,” added Mrs. Palone. “And there’s no churches or pastors out in the wilderness. If something goes wrong, you’ll die unsaved,” she said, looking almost happy about it.

  “How much food do you have, Mrs. Palone?” Dad asked.

  “We’re out, but God and the government will provide. We’re praying for them.”

  “I don’t want to go, Mrs. Palone,” Bess complained as she came out carrying a box of clothes: “But Mom and Dad are forcing me. Could you say goodbye to Amanda for me?”

  “You poor girl! Of course I will. Your parents are making a big mistake, but I expect you’ll be back in a few days, do come around and see us then.”

  “Later,” Bess called as she skipped back into the house.

  A few of the neighbors started to talk at the same time.

  “Hold your horses, folks.” Dad’s tone was exasperated. He raised his hands. “You know I’m not one for churches anyway. I appreciate your concern, thanks, but we’re going, OK? I hope it won’t be for long.”

  “Shall I check the house over while you’re gone?”

  “Thanks, Jerry.” Dad fished in his shirt pocket for his keys.

  “Donald,” I heard him whisper to Dad, as he handed them over, “I’m disappointed you’re doing this. I think we should be looking after each other here. But if you insist on going ahead with it, a word of warning. Are you sure you can trust Thacker? I’ve heard he’s a violent man, ex-con. He could stiff you out there in the wilderness.”

  “Thanks, Jerry,” Dad replied firmly. “I’m sure. Now take care of yourself, OK?”

  Dad turned back to the packing, signaling an end to the conversation, and, gradually, the neighbors drifted away, muttering amongst themselves.

  It was late in the day when we finished. I walked around the house wondering if there was anything that really mattered that we’d left behind, wondering if I’d miss anything. I overheard Mom and Dad talking, downstairs.

  “How long do you think we’ll be away, Donald, really? We’re leaving photo frames, our files, we will be back?”

  “Of course we will, honey.”

  “You know, I’ve never liked this place that much, to be honest. Actually, I’ve never really liked Alaska. It’s so cold and dark most of the year. And the people…well, I mean, they’re friendly, but it’s tough for Jim being a bit aspergic. He doesn’t relate well to kids his own a
ge, just sits in his room all the time, living in his head, playing those horrible games. And I don’t want to see him and Bess growing up as rednecks. When this is over, perhaps we should think of another move, go back to the lower 48. I miss the East Coast.”

  “I can’t see that happening with Jim, Mary, he’s a sensible enough kid. But I know what you mean. Perhaps we should head south. Or somewhere in Canada. I could probably get a job in Toronto. I know the department head there.”

  Mom sighed. “Oh well – I am worried about Jim, though. Bob’s too much of an influence. He’s starting to talk like him. But we can think again when this is over.”

  A resentful thought started taking shape at the back of my mind. I didn’t want to be a botanist, it sounded boring. Or an engineer. I wanted to be like Bob. He was the one really running the show, looking after us.

  Bob and Mrs. Maclaren walked in (I couldn’t get my head around calling her Louise).

  “I’ve strapped it all down,” Bob was saying.

  “What about books?” asked Mrs. Maclaren.

  “What the hell? We’re not a travelling library,” Bob growled.

  “No, but what about books that will tell us things we need to know, now we’ve got no Internet? What about things to read in the evenings?”

  “Nothing I need to know that I don’t already know,” said Bob flatly. “Besides, reading’s bad for you. Bad for the eyes, look at you lot, proof solid. And it’s bad for the brain. The craziest people I’ve known, they all got their mad notions out of books. If God had meant us to read, he’d have made us with specs.”

  Mom chipped in. “No, Louise is right. And we could do with some text books for Jim and Bess, in case we’re away for more than a few days. They might even get ahead with some schoolwork.”

  I walked downstairs, not letting on I’d heard them. We collected a dozen of our own books, and I went back to Mrs. Maclaren’s place with her and she picked up around fifty, which we boxed and wheeled back on the trolley. Dad looked at them askance, eyebrows raised, but he stacked them on top. They turned out to be the best investment we made. We should have taken a library.