“First, we’re going to pick some bug dope,” I announced, and plucked some leaves from the nearest tansy plant. “Crush them in your hand like this, and then rub it on your arms and legs. It will keep the bugs away. I’ll do the back of your neck.” I hope she remembered this trick in the future. There would be no more sprays or lotions from the store.
I showed her how to bunch a handful of the Redtop, like a bouquet, then cut just below her fist. It wasn’t long, maybe a half an hour, and the little wagon was full. We spread the seed heads on the picnic table for extra drying and went the other direction down the road to collect more.
“Aren’t these a pretty blue, Nahna?” Emilee joyfully pointed to a tall stalk with odd looking and distinct cornflower blue blossoms.
“Good eye, Emi. Those are chicory. The flowers are pretty yes. What makes this plant special is the root.” With the spade I had brought with me, I dug down and loosened the still damp soil around the plant, then gave a steady pull.
“What will you use that for?” she asked.
“I’m going to roast it, then grind it to make coffee for Grandpa John.” I knew our coffee supplies wouldn’t last forever and I hadn’t seen even one can in any grocery store. I set the chicory root aside and we finished filling the wagon with more seed heads. By the end of the afternoon, we were both tired and ready to quit.
“There’s a lot of food here for the chickens. I hope they appreciate all the work we just did and give us lots of eggs.” Emi was so insistent that I didn’t have the heart to tell her that all we collected would last only a few days. Our work had only just begun! Thankfully, I also knew to make the seed go even further; we could soak it and grow sprouts first, tripling the feed content.
JOURNAL ENTRY: July 12
Working on picking grains for the chickens yesterday reminded me of grains for us. I haven’t seen any bags of wheat berries or barley at any store we’ve been to, although there has been flour. With all the bread I’ve been baking for everyone, I’m going through a great deal of that. Jason, Eric and Joshua all get a loaf every week, and of course we use at least one loaf too. I’ve even been giving Mark a loaf as a barter payment for the medical treatment he’s extended to us. That’s five, sometimes six loaves every week. I’ve tried to mix it up some by making pita and tortillas. Most everyone still prefers something they can slice.
* * *
“I don’t like being this low on flour,” I grumbled as I scraped the bottom of the bin I store it in.
Eric had stopped over after dropping Emilee and Chivas off at Jason’s for a play and swim day. Amada wanted to take Jacob swimming at Lake Meade and thought it would be nice if he had some company. I know she also misses her little Shih-Tzu dog and she won’t talk about what happened to it.
“I’m not doing anything for the next few hours, Mom. Do you want to go into town and do some grocery shopping, see if we can find any?” Eric offered.
“That would be great! Let me wash up and I’ll be ready.” I sure could use a break, and we’d all agreed that we would never, ever go into town alone anymore.
I pulled some cash out of the envelope in my drawer and noticed something strange: there was a lot more in there than there should have been. I wonder if John was adding more when I wasn’t looking? I wasn’t in a position to question that right now. Inflation had gotten mind-boggling. Although the government was saying the inflation rate was at a plateau, they had manipulated the figures by removing the high priced items, like gas, food and medication, from the calculation. The average citizen still couldn’t buy or even find enough food for his family, and everyday medications just didn’t exist anymore. Then again, anyone who needed daily doses of anything from blood pressure meds to insulin were all dead now.
I took five hundred dollars. These days, five hundred only bought what fifty did just a year ago. I took five hundred more, and closed the drawer.
* * *
“Where to?” Eric asked as he pulled out onto County Road 695 in my new car. I wondered if he wanted the trip just so he could drive the sleek, smooth riding vehicle instead of the pickup truck.
“Let’s start at the bulk food store. They seem to always have something I can use,” I answered. “And I’d like to stop at the hardware and check on batteries.” As an afterthought I asked, “Did you remember to bring your military ID, Eric?”
He gave me that “of course I did” look and said, “Do you think I’ll need it?”
“I just don’t know when we will need what. They change the rules all the time, that’s all, and it’s better to be prepared than be refused entry into somewhere we want to go.”
* * *
The parking lot for the bulk food store was nearly empty of cars. It looked as though the place was closed, until I saw someone being let out the front doors. Eric opened the door for me, and we were stopped by two guards in the glassed-in room where the carts were kept.
“Identification, please,” one of the very military looking men stated briskly.
I handed over my Emergency Management badge to the first guard, while the second one patted me down. I had left my Kel Tec in the car under the seat, although I still had the shoulder holster on. The guard stepped back.
Eric handed over his military ID card. The first guard looked at it quickly, and came to attention, saluting him with a sharp “Sir!” I was right; the guards were active military, which I found both interesting and disturbing. Eric returned the salute and we were passed through the next set of doors and into the quiet store. I grabbed a cart and wiped it down with an alcohol wipe. Illness was and may always be a big concern wherever there were groups of people.
Nowhere did I see the woman who usually greeted us, which confirmed in my mind that if the military was protecting the food supplies it meant the government had taken control of it. This may now mean that my position meant little, while Eric’s meant more.
“Where do you want to start?” Eric asked, looking around at the massive building. The shelves were six feet tall and mostly empty in certain aisles, fuller in others. There were no extra-large boxes of breakfast cereals, no candy, and no bags of salty snacks in that first lane that was meant to attract impulse buying. In the baking section we did find fifty pound bags of flour, limited to one per person.
“I’ll be right back, Mom. I forgot my cart,” Eric grinned as he returned to the front of the store.
It had been over a month since his ribs were injured and though he was healing well, he was also wisely being cautious. We both lifted the heavy bags, one into each cart. At that time, I slipped him half of my cash to pay for his cartload.
I was glad I took the extra money. The cost of flour was now ten times what it used to be!
We wandered up and down each aisle, our footfalls echoing in the stillness. It felt like we were the only people in the store, though I could hear hushed voices coming from somewhere.
I took a large can of spaghetti sauce for the Stone Soup Kitchen and two ten-pound bags of pasta which still had no limits. I put a twenty-five pound bag of rice in Eric’s cart and two big cans labeled “meat stew”. I wondered what kind of meat it was. As an afterthought, I put two bags of pasta into Eric’s cart, too. We each took a five-pound canister of oatmeal. I’d have to repackage those into smaller, more useful sizes, however, it was minor extra work for what we were getting.
We passed up the eggs in the cooler. I refused to take something we didn’t need and that we could provide for ourselves.
When we came to the cleaning section, I was pleased that there was dishwashing liquid and clothes soap! Again, there was a limit, and we were only allowed two each.
The very last aisle was where frozen foods used to be. The oversized chrome and glass freezers were silent, emptied of everything and turned off. In the center bunker, there was locally made cheese from the sole dairy still in operation. Joshua was doing very well at making cheese, but he hadn’t yet been able to master all the varieties. I put a five-pound block of Jac
ob’s favorite American cheese in my cart, happy to pay the fifty dollar price tag.
I scanned each of our carts, and satisfied that we were well under our limited funds, we headed for the checkout.
My cart came to three hundred eighty dollars, and there wasn’t that much there. Eric paid three hundred fifty dollars, even after selecting a tempting mega-bag of potato chips that was kept behind the counter.
“Do we still want to go to the hardware store, Mom?” Eric asked me when we were loading everything into the back of the small car, taking up most of the room.
“I’d like to, however, we can’t leave the car unguarded,” I said. “Let me think a moment…”
I mulled over the situation as Eric drove across the highway to the other store.
“Stop back here, away from the other cars,” I said, “and let me drive. I’ll drop you off at the front, and I’ll keep moving to be less of a target and so no one can see in the back.” I gave him the remainder of my cash. He was in the store only a few minutes and I pulled up to the curb for him to get in, then I got in motion again.
“Nothing. There are no batteries of any kind or any size available. Period.”“It was just a chance, Eric. We’ll manage.” I thought of losing power again, and that battery operated lamp sitting dark on Anna’s desk at the township hall.
CHAPTER 24
July 13
The day began on a glorious note. The sky was sapphire blue without a single cloud, and the golden sun shone, almost too brightly. Although the thermometer read eighty-five degrees, the light breeze coming down from the north brought a coolness that made the day spectacular.
“Allex, can you pick me up? I’m packed and ready to leave here,” John announced.
“I’ll be there within a half hour,” I replied jubilantly. He was coming home, and this time to stay. I hoped.
* * *
“This is all you have, John? One duffle bag and two boxes?”
“I always travel light,” he replied. “There have been times when we would leave on rotation, only to get notice while at home that we were being moved or laid off and someone else would be sent to pack up what we had left behind. Many of us got used to staying semi-packed, even if we were in one location for two or three years,” he explained. “That happened to me while I was working in Alaska. I was there for five years and had settled in. Then wham! We were sent somewhere else while I was in Indiana with Christine. They shipped me twelve boxes, ten of which I would have left behind if I had known.”
“It doesn’t matter. We’ll find or make anything else you might need.” I couldn’t help but be enthused; not only was he coming to stay, he would also now be out of danger.
“Is all your paperwork done?” I asked, knowing how important it was to him to leave on a good note with this company that had treated him so well.
“Yes. It isn’t unusual for someone to resign after a mining accident, so the home office was one step ahead of me. My final paycheck and my bonus were already processed and just waiting for a key stroke to be deposited in my account, although I did insist that half of my bonus was in cash. It’s all done, Allex. I’m officially unemployed,” John said with such enthusiasm that it made me laugh. “Oh, and Simon will be by later for me to sign my final disclosure papers.”
* * *
“Is John around?” Simon asked, stepping down from the Green Way van.
“He’s across the road talking with my son, I’ll call him,” I said.
“Not just yet, Allexa, there’s something I need to discuss with you first, and I’d rather do it privately. It will be your choice to share it with John or not.” Simon had a very strange look on his face, almost embarrassed.
“Okay, Simon. What is it?” We sat down at the weathering picnic table.
“This is for you,” he said, sliding an envelope toward me.
“What is it?” I asked, picking it up.
“It’s a letter, from Sven. And yes, I’ve read it; it was part of our agreement. I have letters on file from most of the men, including John, whose letter will now be destroyed. One of Green Way’s most valuable assets in their employees is the lack of family ties.
“I don’t know how well you knew Sven. He came to the States after both of his parents died in an automobile accident. He was an only child; there are no siblings. He never married, and had no children. He was a brilliant electrician and Green Way recruited him quickly. Even though Sven enjoyed his work and liked his teammates, he was also very alone. Each new place we would send him, he would find a person he liked, someone that he could talk to. Someone who was kind to him or treated him like a friend and made him feel a little less lonely. You were that person for him here. It explains it all in the letter: he felt you genuinely liked him as a person and that meant everything to him… so he made you his beneficiary.” At that Simon handed me another envelope, this one with a check window.
“Are you saying Sven left me his life insurance?” I whispered.
“Open it,” Simon said with a smile.
I tore the flap and gasped. I had never seen a check for a million dollars before, and it had my name on it.
“I do need you to sign this agreement that you won’t sue the mine for anything beyond this.” He handed me a pen and a clipboard. I scanned the agreement quickly, and absently signed where he indicated.
I was having just a bit of a problem breathing when I saw John cutting across Eric’s lawn, coming this way.
“I think I’ll keep this for a surprise,” I said, and folded the two envelopes, tucking them into my back pocket.
“Simon!” John greeted his friend and now former boss. “I didn’t see you pull in, or I would have come back sooner.”
“Not a problem, John. I was having a pleasant chat with Allexa,” Simon stood to shake John’s offered hand. He shifted the sheets on the clipboard, turning the one I had just signed face down, and offering the same pen to John, who quickly scribbled his name. Simon then handed John a very thick envelope.
“We’re all going to miss you, John. You were the best foreman Green Way has ever had,” he said sincerely, adding, “Good luck to you, to both of you.”
John turned to me as Simon backed the big white and green van out of the driveway and said, “I think we should celebrate!”
“I agree. What would you like to do, John? This is your ‘freedom’ day.”
“It’s still early. I say we go into Marquette and buy some steaks, no matter how much they cost! And maybe even find a bottle of champagne while we’re at it.” He laughed and gave me a fierce bear-hug. I’d never seen him so happy. It was like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders.
* * *
The shelves at Mack’s were just as lean and empty as they were the last time I was there and that same cloying rotten scent hung over the fresh food like a sticky cloud. We wandered the vacant aisles quietly, John’s jubilant mood somewhat subdued, until we came to the meat counter.
Fresh steaks were being stocked behind the polished glass while we watched. My mouth actually started to water. I hadn’t had a beef steak in many months and the sight of the juicy red meat made me hungry.
“How much are those?” John asked the butcher. I was shocked that the prices had gone up yet again when he told us.
“I’ll take all of them!” John said with gusto, and laughed.
The butcher wrapped the fifteen steaks and personally carried them to the front to a waiting cashier, where John paid with eight one hundred dollar bills.
My mind did a quick calculation. Meat was now forty-five dollars per pound! Inflation was out of control and spiraling higher with every passing hour.
“Where’s Marie?” I asked the cashier, wondering where my friend was.
“She hasn’t been here in more than a month, just stopped showing up,” the young blonde woman replied with a shrug.
John stopped just before the automatic doors opened, and turned back to the wide-eyed cashier. “Wine! Do you
carry wine?”
“All alcohol is now controlled by the State. The only place it’s available is over on Washington,” she replied, eyeing John warily. No one spent money like this anymore. No one had money like this anymore.
We stepped out into the warm afternoon air, John carrying the heavy package. I scanned the parking lot, and withdrew my Kel Tec from its hiding place under my left arm when I saw one person in the distance, leaning casually against a car. Holding the 9mm automatic pointed skyward, I walked a half of a step in front of John until we reached the car. He set the meat in the back seat in a cooler we had brought, and got in behind the wheel, locking his door. I walked around to the passenger side, opened the door, slid in quickly, locking my side, and holstering my gun.
I smiled at John and said, “I got to be your bodyguard for a change!”
Just then the first attack came; someone tried to open the locked doors. I heard pounding on the windows as John slammed the car into gear and peeled out of the near empty parking lot. I looked back and saw four people stomping around where the car had just been. They must have been waiting for us.
Our humanity was cycling through phases. The first was and likely would always be denial of whatever the circumstances were. No matter how obvious the situation may be, nearly everyone tried to justify the undesirable away, ignoring what was right in front of them. The next phase was panic, when there was a rush to get everything possible, whether it was food, water or a flat screen TV, there was mass buying and inevitably the digression to stealing. That was what had happened last fall after the earthquakes. When all the supplies were finally gone, people settled into an acceptance because they had no choice. When a recovery of sorts began with the return of electricity and the minor restocking of grocery shelves, there was rejoicing that all was well again, shutting out the fact that it was not all well again; they were just being spoon-fed what would keep them calm and compliant. The next step was also inevitable: the anger that normalcy was being denied them, and that anger resulted in violence, as we witnessed today.
The Journal: Ash Fall Page 17
