by Finley, Zack
Life wasn't fair, someone always had more than you. "I don't want prisoner labor. I don't want enemies outside of the Valley who know our routine. And I don't want to become an execution squad," I said. "How to reconcile this mess, eludes me. Mom wants slave labor to remind people to behave. If they need slaves for that, I don't want them in my lifeboat."
"Men are so naïve," Mandy countered. "Everything is a nuanced shade of gray, and you want black and white."
"What?"
"Your "Y" chromosome provides plenty of positive benefits, but understanding human dynamics isn't one of them." Mandy returned to her work chair. "I need to get back to work, anything else?"
I knew a dismissal when I heard it. "Don't forget about Matt and Lois," I reminded.
"Thanks, the rest of your message nearly blew that out of my mind, Be careful out there."
I left her office, not surprised the clatter of keys did not resume immediately. There was a lot to think about.
I joined Matt and his crew at the greenhouses. Everyone either transferred compost from a dump trailer into wheelbarrows, spread it, or double-digged it into the soil inside the temporary greenhouses. I briefed Matt on the issues, and he immediately left to speak with Mandy about Joe. One of the Gammas left with him, delegated to take over as Lois's tour guide. They promised to send Eric out as soon as they met up.
I helped spread compost, enjoying the mindless therapeutic distraction provided by shoveling compost. It had the added benefit of being a team sport. Better than splitting wood. My mom used both fertilizers and lime, but she believed compost turned the thin Cumberland Plateau soil into farm soil. I hoped it would be enough.
The drive to the county offices was uneventful.
The locked exterior doors and unbroken windows of the office complex was a positive sign the building remained intact. The county mayor and local officials used the building until they relocated to the Justice Center early in the crisis. The building's generator was long gone, leaving an oil-stained concrete slab and some dangling cables.
Tank attempted to pick the lock to a side door, while the rest of us scanned the area for potential threats. The building had a broad open field of fire around it, with a mostly empty parking lot and a broad expanse of grass.
Neither the funeral home to the east nor the church to the west posed any obvious threat. Neither looked inhabited, although a faint odor of decay came from the mortuary. A smoky chimney in a hillside home was the only visible sign of life in any of the buildings in view. While that location received a substantial portion of our scrutiny, the people up there showed no interest in our activity.
Tank struggled with the lock for nearly five minutes before declaring success. My assignment was to watch their backs as Eric led the clearance team through the building. The office building was single-story, with few exterior doors and a modest number of windows. By the time we cleared the building, all of us had practiced our lockpicking skills. While the mayor and commissioners used the building for coordination early in the crisis, I suspected they eagerly shifted emergency operations to Justice, with its sizable solar-powered electrical capability.
The agriculture offices didn't rate a window, so I searched them by flashlight. I sent the others to salvage janitorial supplies, printer paper, and computer equipment, while I looked for names, locations, addresses, and anything else I thought might be useful. Some agricultural publications and glossy pest management books went into the save pile as farming reference materials. I stacked those on one of the wheeled office chairs. I also tagged the desktop computer and pocketed a drawer full of thumb drives to review later. In the secretary's desk drawer, I found part of what I came for, a department roster with home mailing addresses. I stuffed the prize into an inside pocket. One mission accomplished.
With that behind me, I continued my search for anything about seeds or grain. I dumped out a file cabinet and began filling it with the information I found, planning to examine it tonight back home in the Valley. I didn’t find much on grains, but information on growing crops in the Cumberland Plateau might prove helpful.
The guys left me a small area near the tailgate for my treasures, filling the rest with computers, cleaning, and office supplies, plus reams of computer paper. Glass cleaner and soap products of any kind would be useful in the future, and our young women would appreciate the commodity-sized box of tampons. No toilet paper or bleach, though.
We dropped off the computers and electronics at the Tennessee College of Applied Technology. I hoped Sally could use the abandoned radio gear we collected. The guys scavenged detailed county maps and satellite photos from the walls, but we left the bulky ledgers, microfiche, and bound volumes that represented the historic tax, property, and marriage rolls. I suspected the newest information vanished into some computer cloud in cyber-land after the crash. None of it made any difference now.
It took two trips to the county offices to retrieve everything we might ever want, stashing most of it in the TCAT offices. We gave Lois a lift on our way back to the Valley for supper. I wanted to ask her about Ellie and Billy but somehow knew she would keep their confidences.
Lois begged off eating with us, saying she had some things to catch up with at the hospital. She promised to be back at breakfast, ready for our trip to Robbins. I could tell from their light banter that Lois won my bunch over with her spunky attitude.
After supper, I joined those at loose ends, filling a truck and dump trailer with compost. We returned to Justice to finish out the workday. Many hands made the work rip by, leaving us all smellier but feeling we accomplished something worthwhile.
I wasn't the only one needing a shower after a day playing with compost. Afterward, I took my papers back to the house and dug into them. My mom was happy with the names and addresses, and I felt sure they'd be on the next visitation list. The local farmers continued to compare notes, not giving up, either. My dad hoped to hear some ideas from them in the coming days. We had time before anyone could plant corn, soybeans, or sorghum due to frost dates. Wheat would probably be our over-winter crop depending on seed availability.
Would we plant our corn, beans, and squash together like the native Americans once did? I knew establishing amaranth and quinoa was high on my mom's list. These had no hybrid forms and were great self-seeders. Planting small clusters of amaranth in fallow fields might reach a critical mass due to natural dispersal in only a few seasons. Quinoa might be a smart choice to replace winter wheat if we could get it established. It was quite compatible with low-tech farming methods.
My mom even planned to grow kudzu for both people's food and animal forage along some Valley hillsides not suitable for other farming. After seeing entire hillsides swallowed by kudzu plants in Helena, Arkansas, it seemed funny that we intended to plant it on purpose. No one in Arkansas was eating it, as far as we could tell. After we returned from there, I learned the roots, leaves, and shoots were edible and reasonably nutritious. Who knew? My mom was considering it more for goat forage, counting on our goats to keep it from getting out of hand. Of course, she was looking forward to drying different bits of the plant to try out for tea. Oh, joy.
Most of the seed suppliers listed in the papers from the county offices were near Nashville or Memphis, many not far from the route we took from the ferry crossing to the Mississippi River. They weren't viable options for us due to the blocked bridges across the Tennessee River. No way to get a semi-truck and trailer across using our ferry. The only reason I was holding out any hope for a closer warehouse was vague information about Knoxville warehouses my dad heard from local farmers.
Without more to go on, any seed finding foray would have no chance for success. When someone said something was in Knoxville, they usually didn't even mean it was in the city proper; half the time, it meant the greater metropolitan area. We couldn't even rely on scouting from the air; from above, most warehouses look alike.
As temperatures warmed, I expected survivors across America to hit the ro
ad, searching for more. More food, more security, and a better chance for long term survival. Any significant journey away from our base would need to happen soon, for a combination of reasons, the increasing threat, and the need for all hands to plant.
Since every seed was now precious, there would be no automatic seeding, nor sowing. Each seed would be placed, watered, and nurtured to ensure germination. Then there would be a lot of grunt work in the field with shovels, rakes, hoes, and even trowels. With every plant important, pest and weed control would remain a focus. While I hoped our chickens could help with that, in the beginning, they couldn't be trusted to differentiate between weeds and precious seedlings.
Grady still hadn't asked to contact Fort Campbell by radio. Recent events put that on the back burner. Before the kidnapping and murder, most of the Valley leadership favored offering refuge to soldiers and their families. Now the tide was dead set against it. Inviting unvetted lethal groups either into Justice or the Valley was not going to happen. While much of our leadership felt a kinship with combat soldiers, there wasn't much trust for top brass nor civilian leadership. Our Vietnam vets felt betrayed as the truth about their war came to light. I didn't feel a lot better, having learned there were no weapons of mass destruction warranting the invasion of Iraq.
I remained undecided, able to see the pros and cons of both sides. Offering a lifeline to fellow soldiers felt right. And we could use more warriors with combat skills. But I could also see the other viewpoint very easily, especially looking at Jennifer and Melissa. By unspoken agreement, nobody was dealing with it until the jury verdicts we waited for were resolved.
The kids were out at the rec hut with Alice and Alex, and I sat quietly with my parents in the family room. "Anything from the jury?" I asked, leaving the question up in the air for either parent.
"They are nearly done," my dad offered, glancing at my mom, who had tensed up. In a deadpan voice, he continued, "They intend to recommend exile for any who suspected or knew but did nothing. In the end, no one wanted to keep unreliable people in our midst, even as prisoners. Roger and I have agreed to personally escort them to the county line with only the clothing on their backs. A firing squad will execute those who took part. Family members of the victims have first claim on the squad, the rest will draw lots."
Something about his words felt off to me. "I thought they were leaning more hard-line than that?"
"They were, until Roger and I volunteered."
"Just the two of you?"
"There are only eight of them, and we will be armed, and they won't," he said. "No need for a bigger escort. We will put them in the back of a pickup and drive up into the national forest."
I now understood. Most of the Valley population wasn't ready to sentence people to death for just looking the other way. Like the kidnappers, they didn't really know what life was like on the outside. Nor could they imagine how bad life was going to get.
Dad and Roger understood. Releasing people to betray us a second time wasn't something we could afford to do. The stakes were too high. My dad and Roger were, once again, protecting the Valley, this time from ourselves. Making tough, unpopular decisions. From the anger on my mom's face, I doubted he shared his real plans with her. Her next statement reinforced my assessment.
"You are letting them go free," my mom screeched. Her voice the equivalent of nails clawing across a chalkboard.
"We weren't going to reach a consensus, so Roger and I flipped a coin. We need this inquiry to end so we can prep for spring. Those traitors have already cost us far more than we can afford. I don't intend to waste more time on this or them." With that, he stood up and walked over next to my mom, pulling her toward him. She was stiff but didn't resist as much as I expected. "Come on, let me rub your feet." He pulled, and she stood up. He didn't let her loose, tugging her along to their bedroom.
"See you in the morning," my dad said, over his shoulder.
I usually saw my parents through a son's lens. Tonight, they were more. A man protecting his wife and family from harsh realities. Carrying a burden to free us from ugliness. I knew deep in my soul that neither he nor Roger would ever reveal what they did. They would allow everyone else to maintain their sense of innocence. Some would suspect, but only they would know for sure.
I was still mulling over the situation when the crew came in from the rec hut. Tonight's movie was another cartoon, this one about a fish. My girls and I were still sleeping in one room.
Neither was quite ready for sleep tonight, Melissa snuggled next to me, filling me in on the antics of her pregnant goats. She expected them to have babies any day now. The new chickens were hiding their eggs, and she wished she never sent some of her flock to Justice. I didn't remind her that she sent them her worst chickens, hoping the new ones were an upgrade. From the harrumphs from Jennifer's bunk, I got the impression that Jennifer had not forgotten. I just commiserated with Melissa, earning a few dad points in the process.
After about 20 minutes, I called light's out, and no one even moaned. It had been a hard day for everyone.
***
PT was cold and well attended. Ben still nursed busted ribs, and he helped Sean with some light calisthenics. Sean and Ben remained on light duty, but Dr. Jerrod cleared everyone else for action. Grady's group still lagged behind during the long run in full gear, but they made excellent progress on the other exercises, building strength and stamina daily.
Zeke's advice to make the necessary structural changes to our teams nagged at me, as they proved they could keep up. Grady and his men still bunked with the Arkansas group, but they were hanging out more and more with my teams. This week Grady was Roger's shadow, and I understand he'd be back with me in a few days.
Over breakfast, Buzzer informed me that yesterday's op in Robbins was textbook. "James documented the inhabited houses on our map. Most of the addresses we have on our list are occupied. Those that are empty have people in nearby houses. Mandy gave us a shopping list for adding people to the network. She wants someone next to US 27, someone on old US 27, someone in West Robbins, and someone on the east side of US 27. She is worried about the hills blocking any signal, though, so we need to check that."
"Houses in Robbins are older; a higher percent have wood stoves," James said. "Someone moved many of the abandoned cars from the road and parked them in front of local businesses and churches. I doubt there is much left to salvage down there. If there were any gardens, I didn't see any."
"Thanks for the briefing, we'll head out as soon as Lois meets up with us," I said. Something in the way my guys stared at me caused me to look over my shoulder. There was Lois, looking overloaded, and standing directly off my left side. "Ah, here she is now," I said, trying not to react, but failing miserably.
Zeke reached for my tray, and I was flustered enough not to care. I retrieved my rifle from under my seat and stood up.
"Good morning Jeremy, are we ready to roll?" she asked.
"Just finishing up now, the Humvee is parked outside," I said, indicating the door.
Lois shifted her extensive pack and ambled toward her objective. I followed at a discrete pace behind her, concerned whether she would be able to stop once she reached the door. I feared the momentum from her pack would be too much.
She made it to the door and outside without a hitch, causing me to speed up and open the Humvee door for her.
"You will ride in the jump seat between the two back seats," I said, pointing at the rudimentary seat assigned to her. "The rest of us need to be free to engage any threats. This set up protects you and keeps you out of our way. We should put your pack in the storage area behind us."
"Okay, I'm not a great shot, so that is probably the best place for me. While I'd rather keep the pack within easy reach, I can see it would interfere with you guys being able to move around. There isn't as much space inside this thing as it appeared from the outside." She shrugged out of her backpack and rested it on the ground, leaning it against her leg.
&nb
sp; I picked it up and strained to keep the surprise at its weight off my face. What kind of lead bricks did this thing have in it? It gave a whole new perspective to everything but the kitchen sink. Note to self, lift with your knees, not your back in the future. I didn't know how Lois could move with it on her back. It added to my respect for her professionalism and as a human being and caregiver.
Lois didn't carry a rifle, but she had a pistol in a holster around her waist. I also knew she carried a hold-out pistol in an ankle holster.
She supervised the placement of her backpack in the storage area, ensuring the tie-downs secured it firmly in place.
While I had no doubt that she could scramble into the Humvee without any assistance, Lois graciously accepted the hand up James offered.
We were now officially on a medical mission. This prompted Buzzer to put out the red cross flags on the front grill. I didn’t ask where they came from.
