by Reed, N. C.
“Don’t jinx it, kid,” Stacey warned, though not harshly. “Voice of experience talking, here,” he chuckled darkly.
“No, I don’t want to jinx it,” Zach agreed absently. “I’m just wondering what’s going on in Jordan.”
“Ain’t we all?”
-
“I would love to know what’s going on in Jordan right now,” Greg Holloway noted as leaned back in his chair. He was sitting in Clay’s office, hoping the quiet would continue. Clay was behind his desk, looking at figures provided by Kandi Ledford.
“Wouldn’t we all,” he stated rather than asked. “I’d love even more to know what’s going on with Adcock. Or even Whitten, if nothing else.”
“Still nothing, I take it?” Greg asked.
“Not a peep,” Clay nodded. “From them or anyone else. We’re still getting reports from the stations you set up, but that’s it. The little bit of traffic the kids had been picking up in the weeks before the plague has dropped off the air.”
“Maybe they’re just laying low, like we are,” Greg offered hopefully.
“Let us all pray so,” Clay sighed, stretching his shoulders before leaning back to brace himself against the wall. “This was not supposed to be so difficult,” he sighed.
“You say that like you rehearsed for all this or something,” Greg snorted.
“I don’t mean the plague,” Clay shook his head, his hand making a swiping motion as if to push the comment away. “I really thought I had planned all this down to the wire, man. Leon helped, then Dad got into the mix, and finally the twins. In fact, had Gordon not insisted we bring the twins in we would have really been in a fix. Those two were like hounds, sniffing out any and everything they could find. There’s no telling how many tablets, smart phones and hard drives there are around here with gigabytes of information about everything they could think of, read of or find on the internet.”
“I’ve seen it,” Greg nodded. “Some of it, anyway,” he amended.
“Once things happened, we were all supposed to just hunker down here and wait for things to calm down, assuming they did,” Clay continued. “Besides the family and my old team, I made plans for you, Jake, though I didn’t know he had a kid to be honest, and Leon for Marla, ungrateful heifer that she was, while making sure that Robert and Alicia and even Gordon didn’t run around warning all their friends the sky was falling.”
“Good way to get sent to Downey’s,” Greg agreed.
“Right?” Clay nodded. “Anyway, my idea was to eventually close the roads in and just…sit here. Preferably quietly. That lasted about, oh, twenty minutes or so,” he sighed. “My parents were off to the races trying to help people. I told you about our trip to the church, yeah?”
“Yep,” Greg nodded once. “I’d love to say I was surprised, but honestly? I’ve lived there, well had lived there anyway, for over three years. Jordan isn’t the nice little place you may remember, my brother. Or wasn’t, anyway. No telling what it’s like, now.”
“Too true,” Clay replied. “And I didn’t plan on Jordan one way or another. I had a handful of people I was trying to save, and that was all I concentrated on. Leon, bless his departed soul, agreed with me completely, but there was still no stopping Mom and her mission of mercy. I warned them how it would be, and both flatly told me there was no way it could or would happen.”
“But it did,” Greg punctuated his statement with a firm nod.
“In spades,” Clay set forward again. “Anyway, there’s no sense rehashing all that crap. Compared to what’s happening now, that was nothing. A hiccup.”
“There hasn’t been any traffic for almost a week,” Greg tried to lighten things up. “Not along the freeway or from Jordan. That doesn’t mean there won’t end up being trouble still, of course. Kelly’s warning is still ringing in my ears, to tell you the truth.”
“Mine too,” Clay agreed. “I just don’t know any more what may or may not happen. I didn’t think about things to this point or consider something like this happening at all. It changes everything. Even after all that’s happened, all that we’ve been through, something like the plague has made that seem like a warmup.”
“How’s Lainie doing?” Greg changed the subject. “I haven’t seen her in days.”
“She’s got her own projects,” Clay replied. “I think, actually, she’s with Abby right now, and her forestry class.”
“She’s doing a good job with that, too,” Greg noted.
“She is, indeed,” Clay agreed completely. “Good job convincing her to do it, man. She’s perfect for the job.”
“I told her that,” Greg almost smirked. “This is also a good way to get her back to a point where she’s involved with the rest of us again. She’s been isolating herself for a while now.”
“I know,” Clay sighed yet again, scrubbing his face with his hands. “Part of that was on me, I guess. But at least it’s improving now,” he avoided rehashing old battles.
“So, what are we doing today?” Greg asked.
“We have a security meeting in about thirty minutes or so,” Clay looked at his watch. “We need to take a look at our defensive measures.”
“Sounds like fun!” Greg smiled.
-
Lainie Harper hung toward the back of the small group following along with Abigail Sanders’ explanation of why careful management of forestry resources was necessary to ensure a steady supply of wood products for use by the farm’s residents.
“But aren’t there plenty of trees?” Roberto Sanchez asked hesitantly, raising his small hand about even with his shoulder.
“Well, it does look that way, doesn’t it?” Abby smiled encouragingly. “And if we’re only talking about right now, or in say the next year, then that’s accurate. But what happens if we cut down all the trees, as fast as we can, and don’t replenish them? Compare it to pancakes you have for breakfast. What if, instead of making as many pancakes as people wanted, we only made two for each person? Now, say we do that, and someone comes through the kitchen and instead of taking just two, they take three. The next person takes two, and maybe the third person only takes the two they were supposed to or maybe four if they’re really hungry. If we don’t keep an eye on what everyone takes, then what will happen when those near the end of the line start coming through, wanting pancakes for their breakfast?”
“There may not be any,” Roberto replied thoughtfully, a lightbulb obviously going on somewhere in his thought process. A very intelligent boy, Lainie decided.
“That’s exactly right,” Abby complimented. “It’s not the best comparison of course, since a new stack of pancakes could be ready in twenty minutes or so, right? But look at this tree,” she pointed to a towering pine tree behind her. “This is a loblolly pine tree. They are ideal for areas where erosion is a problem because they grow quickly compared to other trees and have a decent root system to help hold the soil in place. Do you have any idea how old that tree is?” she asked the class.
“Ten years?” a female voice guessed. Lainie couldn’t see who spoke.
“Anyone else?” Abby asked before answering. No one else spoke up.
“That tree is between thirty and forty years old,” she told them gently, and Lainie could see a ripple of surprise run through the children, many of whom could not yet fathom how much time that was. “It was planted when my father was younger than I am now, as part of a reforestation project. If each of you planted a tree today, a tree like this one,” she pointed, “then by the time it reached this size, you would all be older than your parents.” ‘Ohs’ and ‘Ahs’ ran through the group as the information sank in.
“Now, this tree is only just now mature enough, old enough,” she clarified, “to be used in building materials, and really needs another ten years to be used as more than a log. If we cut it today and used it, then it would take roughly thirty-five years, or older than your parents, to replace it.”
“Wow,” more than one little voice all but whispered as the
enormity of what Abby was saying sank in.
“Wow, indeed,” Abby nodded. “That’s why it’s so important for us to practice good conservation. Now, what is one of the ways you know of, and all of you should know this one, that we’re already doing just that? Practicing conservation, I mean.”
“We gather dead and downed trees for firewood,” Jaqueline Sidell said at once, still studying the huge tree with open interest.
“Exactly right,” Abby nodded firmly. “We had a storm last year that knocked down several trees. Over the past few months, we have collected all those trees to be used. Some, the harder woods good for building, we turned into lumber. Others we cut up for firewood. Remember the big fire we had? The one that scared us so bad?” Heads bobbed throughout the class.
“We had to cut a lot of trees down for that, too,” she told them. “We’ve used all of them or at least have plans in place to use them soon. We’re not wasting anything we’ve been given. We’ve also started replanting trees where we can. When spring gets here, each of you will be given a sapling and I’ll help you plant them. After that, your tree will be your responsibility. I’ll teach you how to check it for parasites or disease, and if we find any then I’ll show you how to treat them, assuming we can.” All of them looked excited at that prospect and Lainie mentally congratulated Abby for sparking that excitement in such a young crowd.
“Okay,” Abby clapped her hands once. “You’ve all got your folders, which have color photos of the trees we normally find here on the farm. Please remember to take good care of those folders because we may not be able to replace them. One day, when you’re older and don’t need them any longer, someone much younger will inherit that folder and learn the same things you are now. So, don’t tear them or write on them, okay? Just study them and try to remember how to identify the bark, the leaves and the limbs of the trees we deal with every day. Okay?”
“Okay,” the chorus of small voices replied. Abby smiled broadly at them.
“Then that’s all for today,” she told them. “Let’s start heading back so we can all go inside and warm up. You’ve all been really good today, and I appreciate it!”
The children all started back for the warmth of Building Two under the watchful eye of Titus Terry and one of the Kangal pups, which was much larger than when he first came to live at the farm. Lainie hung back to wait for Abby.
“Nice work,” she said as Abby slung her backpack and joined Lainie for the walk home.
“Thanks,” Abby smiled. She was far and away different from just two weeks ago. She looked and acted the way Lainie imagined she had when she was still a teenager. It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders, allowing her to stand taller.
“I think you’ve won some fans in this crowd,” Lainie nodded toward the children, hands stuffed deep into her jacket pockets. “They seemed really excited to be learning.”
“They did, didn’t they?” Abby nodded. “They’re all smart. I think this new approach to teaching them is a good thing. Things we take for granted, growing up on a place like this, some of those kids never had the chance to learn. Might not have mattered before the sun went nuclear, but it definitely matters now.”
“Exactly what Clay said,” Lainie agreed. “It really hit him hard when Bobby died. He felt to blame even though there was not a single thing he could have done to prevent it.”
“Nothing but keep them all inside forever,” Abby nodded once. “He takes too much blame on himself for stuff. Sure, some stuff may be his fault, or at least his responsibility let’s say, but not everything. No matter how much he does, or can do, he’s still just one man. Some of the rest of us have to step up and shoulder some of that.”
“I’ve told him that very thing, and so have several others,” Lainie assured her. “And to be fair, he is getting better. His little bout with exhaustion has, I think, shown him that there are limits to anything, and he has found his. He’s finally starting to allow others to take care of things that they’re good at while he just focuses on threat and crisis management.”
“Which he is good at, there’s no doubt,” Abby commented. “The last thing we need is for him to end up down, or out altogether. There are days when I think he’s all that keeps this place together.”
“He said the same thing about Leon the Elder,” Lainie sighed. “I think maybe that’s part of his concern, to be honest. Leon always rode him hard to step in and take charge, to be prepared for when Leon was gone. Now, with Leon actually gone, I think Clay remembers all those warnings but instead of managing, like Leon did, Clay begins to get tied down doing things himself and then can’t see his way clear of them.”
“It’s too much,” Abby nodded slowly. “I get it. I do. He wants to make sure everyone is safe and provided for and feels like it’s his responsibility to make sure that it happens. But damn. There’s a farm full of folks around here anymore, and a lot of them are at least his age or older. There’s no need or reason for him to be doing so much more than anyone else does.”
“Exactly,” Lainie said firmly.
-
“We know it’s coming,” Clay told the assembled group, deciding to tackle the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room right away.
“Do we?” Mitchell Nolan asked. “What’s to say that Kelly guy didn’t just make up a lot of that stuff to get what he needed? Oh, I know that old man Franklin is hating on Clay and the rest of us for sure, not to mention that crowd that wanted to seize the farm. But might be that’s all there is.”
“Could be,” Greg allowed. “Tim Kelly used to be a straight guy, but a lot has happened and that changes people. Usually not for the better. We can’t afford not to assume it’s true, though.”
“I haven’t,” Jose agreed, nodding. “We’re at risk, to be certain, but not to the point of helplessness. We have the edge in weaponry, equipment, tactics and training, not to mention experience. It’s one thing to threaten and posture. It’s another thing entirely to be where the lead is flying.”
“True that,” Faron Gillis murmured. He tended to listen more than he spoke at these small meetings, which impressed Jose and the others. Usually, the younger officers were always trying to get their two cents worth into the conversation. This young man was not in the habit of doing so. He also didn’t try to impress the others with his own exploits, another trait that most younger men, enlisted or officer, tended to have.
“So, what do you want to do?” Greg asked, looking at Jose.
“We, as usual, have a manpower problem,” Jose admitted. “It’s not nearly so bad as it has been in the past, thanks to Lieutenant Gillis and his men, but it’s still an issue. We have three security mandates that must be met. Firstly, we must maintain our security patrols and posts here on the farm. Secondly, we have to maintain the new posts around the perimeter to guard against incursion. Finally, we must be prepared to meet an assault from Jordan. From either direction along the road, but likely it will be on the road to Jordan.”
“We should have enough to handle that,” Mitchell made a mild objection. “Between the Guard troops and the Amazons, we’ve gained a lot of manpower.”
“We have,” Jose agreed. “But you just said it yourself; we have enough to handle that. What we don’t have is enough to handle all that and still meet all of our other obligations.”
“Which obligations?” Greg asked. “I know the farm work has to be one of them, since our security people represent most of the young and physically fit.”
“That is true,” Jose nodded. “But there is also the matter of training. We have several people who are being trained to handle horses. While we could halt that until the crisis is over, experience has taught us that the crisis is never over around here,” he snorted at his own dark humor. “We need to keep at it because those skills will be extremely important sooner rather than later.”
“Added to that is our regular training regimen. We’re able to do so much because our people are well trained, extremely fi
t, and highly motivated. Take away any of those three and we start to decline, which we can’t afford. We are always outnumbered, and we must always remember that. And, finally, as you said, we have to think about the work here on the farm. All of us have other duties and responsibilities aside from security. If we start having to tie down more people on the watch, or on the response team, then we start losing those manhours elsewhere. Something else we simply can’t afford.”
“So, what can we do?” Nate Caudell spoke for the first time.
“I’m open to suggestions,” Jose admitted. He had already gamed out this problem alone, but he was not happy with his findings. He was hoping to get ideas from the men around him.
When no one spoke for nearly a minute, Gillis cleared his throat.
“You have an idea, Lieutenant?” Jose asked, mildly surprised.
“We should dump the idea of a static defense,” Gillis said, his voice low, but firm. “That eats away manpower for little to no return unless you happen to fool the enemy into hitting those prepared positions. While we may can do that, it’s a gamble, and we can’t afford to gamble.”
“Go on,” Jose nodded.
“We need more towers,” Gillis started pointing to spots around the map before them. “Drop the idea of this ring of posts around the entire place. It takes too much in man hours and gives too little in return. Instead, we erect towers like the one behind the Sanders’ residential area, and place two people on each with good glasses, or even a spotting scope if we have it. NVDs as well, in case someone tries sneaking around in the dark.”
“We have a number of ATVs, as well as Humvees. Position them here, at Building Two, ready to go as soon as they get the word. Guns on the Hummers, and maybe even the ATVs if it’s doable. Keep two full fire teams, if not a full squad, on watch here at all times, ready to respond to any problem. As soon as we get the word, the ready squad is out the door and gone, responding. The rest of us rally here, either to assist as needed, or respond elsewhere in case the first problem is a feint for an attack somewhere else.”
