by Crane, J. J.
Both her boys enlisted in the Army when they turned eighteen (four years apart), and due to a clerical error, both found themselves in the middle east serving their country. As tragedy would have it, both boys died there. She took it as another betrayal. The government settled out of court with her and from what we heard, was well taken care of even though she still worked full time as a manager at the county sewage plant.
Since the crisis began, Pam appeared to have flipped a switch, socially at least.
“I have at least three months’ worth of food on hand and will contribute all I can to our success,” she boldly told me when I first discussed the virus with her. “You need my house for anything, meetings, storage; it’s yours to use.”
She did express trepidation to living alone. “I’ve never slept well,” she said to me. “I hear every creak and crinkle, which leads me to perceive the bogeyman more than I would like. And, now, with how things are, I am afraid my mind will do me no good in these matters.”
I remember chuckling inside at the way she sometimes spoke as if she was lifted out of some 19th century diary entry. Still, it was nice to have her so willingly participate with us.
We gathered in her living room. At least one person from each household attended. After opening pleasantries, we proceeded to the business of food and supplies. The stress of having enough food began to take its toll on people within minutes of the conversation.
I looked over at Maggie and Bob Peterson. Maggie had deep dark circles under her eyes. Bob looked worn like he worked all day out in a field with a hundred-degree sun.
“How are you guys holding up?” I asked.
“Shitty,” Maggie blurted, a string of saliva didn’t quite make it all the way out of her mouth, and it hung off her chin, swinging like a wild pendulum.
“What can we give you or help out with?” June asked, trying to inch closer to them.
“We’re good,” Bob said, his eyes sunken looking off as if he didn’t quite know where to look.
I let the conversation with them wane. It already looked as if they didn’t want to be in the room.
Folks came off wary about their food supply. The Burrell’s scratched their heads, looked about the room uncomfortably, and mumbled they didn’t have a lot left.
Linda Macian looked pensive as well. “We way under- estimated what we thought we would need.” She looked at her husband, Steve, who nodded meekly.
Doc (Belle and their son stayed home) said they could easily make another month and that they also underestimated what it would take to survive a long stay without resources.
That became the underlying theme. No one really expected to have to sit out a major epidemic for an extended length of time. As much as my heart sank, how could they be blamed, this was America, the land of plenty. Who thinks that we would ever have faced such a crisis?
Uncomfortable silence blanketed the room before Max broke it like a hammer through glass. He stood, looked about to make sure that everyone set their eyes on him. “We’ll have to have some sort of rationing then. There’s no other way except for the details of it.”
If faces weren’t demoralized enough, I would have sworn I
felt the souls of those already hurting pass through me as Max’s suggestion sank in.
More silence fell before Linda voiced meek agreement. Her
husband Steve agreed. “If it’s what’s best then let’s do it.”
Tears rolled down Katie’s face. Dave wrapped his arm around her. He looked at Max then me. “There is no other way for now.”
Pops gauged the mood of the room. “Why don’t we call it for the day. We can reconvene at my house tomorrow. People can bring a list of what they have then. This way, it gives everyone more time to absorb the gravity of our situation.”
I placed my hand on Pops’ shoulder. “Thanks,” I said.
“Same time tomorrow,” he said.
As Ted and I left Pam’s house, he asked if I ever hunted. I said no. He said it was time.
“I know this food distribution idea is the proper course of action,” Ted said. “But people aren’t going to like having their food dictated to them. No one can fathom having limited food, not in the culture we grew up in. It will cause problems no matter how well you handle this. You saw the looks on those people. The reality of what is happening is starting to take effect.”
I heard him loud and clear. “Hey, no one likes any of this. We are all sacrificing. Some people are going to have to get over it,” I said with more of a defensive tone than I would have liked. I began to wonder if this was my fault, that I should have told people earlier about what was coming.
“I hear ya,” he said. “Just saying, people are not going to like it. You watch… animosity will rear its head. It will. Not
for any other reason than human nature.”
I stopped walking. “Hunting? You think that will solve the situation?”
“I don’t know about solving it, but it will help. Besides, it’s fresh meat. It’s an activity. Believe me; people will like it, it will take their minds off their own misery. I’ve seen plenty of deer and signs of them around, so I don’t think that’s an issue,” he said.
“If there is one thing we have plenty of, it’s deer,” I con-
firmed.
“Good,” Ted stated. “We need to hunt. We need to take down a couple, cut up steaks. Make some jerky. They’re a good source of protein. Maybe we’ll get lucky and bag a turkey or two along the way.”
“And when do you propose we do this?” I asked.
“As soon as possible,” he answered. “Your friend Max is a hunter. We should get him involved.”
“Linda and Steve have done some. And, I think Bruce is a hunter as well,” I said.
“Then let’s find out what they think,” he said.
I whistled seeing Max and Bruce about to enter their front door.
They loved the idea. In fact, Max said he, Beth and Bruce already discussed it. He thought we should also consider hunting small game as well as knock a hole in the ice and try some fishing.
Then Bruce asked a disturbing question. “What about seeing what’s going on beyond the neighborhood?”
My stomach turned. I had no want of leaving the neighborhood, just yet. With no idea of the status of the virus, I wanted to hold up until we absolutely had to leave the block.
“An exploratory investigation wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Ted said, to my surprise.
“What would we look for exactly?” I asked.
“Food and whatever remnants of society still exist,” Bruce said. “Hunting is fine but to think we can just pluck a deer or two to solve our issues is not sound long-term thinking. We
need to see what other options are out there.”
He was right of course, but the risk of the virus concerned me more than if stores had food or finding out who was still alive. “I understand fully,” I said. “Let’s remember there is still a fatal illness out there and we only put ourselves at greater risk by entering into any kind of store.”
Max and Bruce nodded. Ted was silent.
“How far is the nearest food store?” Ted asked after a
couple of seconds.
“In town, two miles,” Max said.
I agreed with his estimate. “But that’s the local market. The bigger chains are another five to seven from there.”
“So, at most ten miles to one of the bigger stores,” Ted said to clarify.
Max and I concurred.
“We should make plans for a trip,” Max said, looking at all of us.
I stood stunned but needed to take the lead on this idea. “Then let’s plan out something detailed. We can’t willy-nilly this. It has to be presented and planned properly.”
Bruce interjected a quick sketch of what he thought we should do. “We’ll take a car. Three of us can go. We’ll each bring a gun and walkie-talkies. We don’t even have to get out of the car; we’ll just do some drive-throughs and see what
the situation looks like.”
I didn’t see it as that easy. I said the community had to agree to it. If we just went out, it would send the signal that people could act on their own, regardless of consequences. Lose that, and you invite chaos, or worse, bring the virus into the neighborhood. They agreed.
That night I sent out a text on the topic. Unlike the lack of feedback I received for general meeting notifications, I started to receive lots of questions and suggestions.
The responses ranged from requests for supplies, to what’s the purpose, to flat out rejection of the notion. I personally favored staying put.
The next day’s meeting at Pops’ house had a rambunctious feel to it. I quickly sensed people felt anguish at exposing what they had or didn’t regarding their food supplies. I tried to alleviate those feelings by saying we were all in this together, but the words fell flat. June and Charlotte reviewed the lists of food people wrote down. Most of the items consisted of canned vegetables and soups, cereals, boxed snacks, bags of candy, microwave popcorn, lots of pasta, peanut butter, rice, flour, spam, canned ham, and a few assorted frozen items. Protein-rich items ran noticeably low as most had eaten through their frozen chicken and other meats.
I announced that June and I would fill out protein needs where we could. The whole topic went over like a depressing shadow as I watched people’s shoulders slump and faces go blank. Every day the reality of our situation dropped a new bomb into our laps. The idea of having food distributed, blew out much of what remained of people’s independence, let alone morale.
When I noticed the Petersons did not submit a list, I asked them if they forgot it. Bob sheepishly shook his head.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“We’re leaving,” he whispered.
I was shocked. “Leaving!”
“Yes,” answered Maggie, her eyes tight with a glare.
“Leaving?” I repeated. “You can’t leave.”
Maggie’s face contorted in anger, her face turning beet red. “And who the hell do you think you are to stop us?”
I could see I crossed an imaginary boundary. Still, I had to try and reason with them. “It’s just…that it’s insane to go. Where are you going?”
“Why? So, you can dictate who can go where and when, like your e-mail about exploring the area. Who put you in charge?” she spit back.
“It was an issue that concerned some, and I said we should
put it up for discussion with the group,” I answered. My tem-
per began to rise. “I didn’t dictate anything to anyone.”
“No, you just happened to make everyone stay in their homes, kept watch that no one left the neighborhood and now being the food whore warlord – who are you to dictate what we can and can’t eat?” Maggie said, her anger mounting ever higher.
“I have done all I can to keep this neighborhood safe,” I answered.
Bob tugged at Maggie to calm her down. Maggie was beyond boiling. Her face grew puffy; spit dripped from her mouth. Hate radiated from her eyes, and it became focused on me. The world was crashing around her with more news of family members and friends dying. She felt I was now controlling her, and she couldn’t take it any longer.
Bob spoke up. “We have friends in New Hampshire who have a secure situation. They have an encampment. They have food to make it through the summer, and they have room for us.”
“It’s not safe,” I said.
“It’s only a couple hour trip,” Bob answered. “Less than a full tank of gas. We can be there by sundown.”
Disbelief and anger swelled within me. I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder. “Can I speak to you alone for a moment?” He said yes. I headed out the front door. Maggie followed.
Before I could say anything, Bob put his hand up to stop me. “Thank you,” he said, his tone soft. “But we have decided to move on. We have little left. To put a strain on the community is too much to ask. There are six of us. At least where we are going, they are well suited to sit this out.”
“You aren’t a strain. I promise you.”
“We’re tired of your shit,” Maggie blurted, her eyes maintaining a blaze of anger.
Bob looked at her. “Please Maggie, enough.”
Maggie bit her lip, turned, and stormed off back to their
house.
Bob continued. “She has lost so much here; all her friends, her family. She is isolated, alone. She needs to connect. Her cousin and a longtime friend are in New Hampshire. I was shocked to find out they were big-time preppers. She needs to feel empowered. She will, there. The kids even want to go.”
“That’s not it,” I said. “It’s the drive. It’s the getting there that’s dangerous.”
He looked at me strangely. “What are you talking about?”
“Bob, the main roads are like booby traps. The savages are going to hawk those things like unsuspecting prey. Your kids… think about them.”
“I have, Rob. What do you have, another month or two worth of food for the whole community, then what? You’ll start cutting each other to pieces in your desperation.”
To me, leaving meant death. “I can’t speak for a month from now, but if you leave today, there is a good chance within a few hours you’re the one that’s going to get cut to pieces. And the girls… raped and worse.”
I didn’t see it coming, but Bob hooked me with a punch to my jaw, sending me down to one knee. A constellation of stars sparkled in my mind as I tried to gather my focus and stand back up.
“Don’t ever speak like that again.” Bob’s anger and frustration burst through. “You and your fantasy that everything beyond this neighborhood is evil is a bunch of shit. What do you know? Nothing. At least we have a chance for a more secure life than wait here and watch our own Lord of the Flies unfold. Screw that. I’ll take my chances. We can make it.”
I staggered up, my jaw pounding with a methodic thud. I clenched my fists to retaliate, but instead, I just said that I understood. He went to turn away. “Wait,” I demanded. “Just remember this. When you pull out beyond that stop sign, you can’t come back.” I held a stare.
“Who the fuck are you to tell me what I can and can’t do?”
“I’m the guy who saved your ass these last few weeks. And I’m the guy who is going to continue to look out for this community. If you think you can leave and come back, and possibly infect us, you’re out of your mind.” We held stares, both of us breathing heavy. “I’ll make you this one and only promise… I will personally shoot every single one of you dead. There is no law anymore out there. The only law is the law of survival. Leave, and you become a threat to all of us.”
Bob didn’t say anything. He just stared back.
I continued. “I will kill every threat that comes here… understood?” I felt my hand brush against my concealed handgun. I had to fight the urge to pull it out. “Leaving here puts you out to the point of no return as far as I’m concerned. You go, and you become a contaminant. I will, without mercy, kill any potential contaminant.”
Bob stood with a blank look, his face tightening. He could see I wasn’t bluffing. “Maggie’s right. You’re a madman waiting for your opportunity to lord over everyone. Fuck you. We don’t need you.”
“Sorry you feel that way, but I have spoken all I need to. Good luck,” I said, standing my ground.
Bob turned and walked off. When I turned to go back in, I could see eyes of varied expressions looking at me through Pops’ front windows.
Shocked by the exchange, folks thought it best to cancel the rest of the meeting. With nothing further to say, I went home. I sat in our living room and stared out the front window. I watched as people gave the Petersons hugs, and helped them pack. I wondered if anyone else would follow suit and leave. I hated thinking about what might happen to them on the open road. I finally looked at June who sat on the other side of the room patiently waiting for me to speak. “Have I done a bad job with all this? Have I miscalculated something?”
what’s been going on in that house, their feelings… the
conversations. You can’t have the answers for everyone.”
“They are going to die out there. Those kids… the terror they will endure.”
June grabbed my face. “You don’t know that.”
About an hour later, I stood on my front porch and watched the Petersons pull out of their driveway, go up the street, turn right at the stop sign and disappear.
Chapter 13
Later that day, as the sun began to dip into the tops of the bare trees behind our house, the Macians and the Burrells rang our doorbell. I invited them in, and they went straight to the point.
“A few of us have been talking,” Linda Macian said, kicking off the conversation. She had a soft whispery voice, the kind you would not match to her short, plump figure, and a ‘bob’ for a hairstyle. Yet, she now spoke with a direct purpose. “You’ve taken the lead from the beginning. Everyone appreciates what you have done for us.”
I sat up in my seat, feeling the edge of the couch dig into my buttocks. I clenched my teeth while trying to keep my face calm. I wanted to jump in and defend myself, feeling an accusation of some wrongdoing about to come my way. June could sense it as well.
Linda looked at the others before turning back to me. “We feel we need to form some kind of council; a system where each house has a voice on matters concerning the neighborhood.”
My body deflated into glee. “It’s a brilliant idea.”
They smiled with surprise. “We weren’t sure what you’d think,” Dave Burrell said.
“I think it’s fantastic. We’ve actually talked about it ourselves; we just didn’t know about the timing of that conversation,” I said.
