by Finley, Zack
"No one was living there, but houses on both sides are occupied. We are looking for Dennis Johnson, he is a plumber and an Air Force vet," James said. "Thought to be in his mid-to-late 20s. No idea about family."
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Chapter 10
Within the next few days, we found everyone except one of the people on our list. All but one of the hunters welcomed our invitation. We also learned that recruiting people was a lot easier if they recognized someone on our team. Lois probably saved a few lives, treating several people for pneumonia and one man with an extremely infected leg wound. I learned later Lois spoke with several rape victims, but she lacked a way to test for sexually transmitted diseases. Lois assured me the women were not currently in abusive relationships.
The children were the worst. I wanted to bring Allie's dad to visit these families and rescue them all. The harsh lessons of our recent Valley revolt remained a stern counterbalance, but the suffering wrenched at your heart.
We arranged for radios and small flocks of chicks for three Robbins residents who agreed to be our lookouts. One needed an antenna booster to reach Huntsville due to hills. Buzzer showed off his tree climbing skills, hauling a wire to the top of the tallest nearby tree. We warned the radio operator to disconnect from the antenna during thunderstorms.
Mandy was happy with the expansion and suggested we place our roadblock south of Robbins. We still dragged some of the abandoned cars into position on the bridge, then sliced the tires, leaving a single lane to squeeze by. That would make blocking the lane with a single-vehicle easy should the need arise.
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A group of senior Valley leadership, all Vietnam vets, executed the conspirators and buried them in a common grave. The jury served as witnesses.
A few days later, Roger and my dad took the eight people who knew about the mutiny but failed to alert anyone about the kidnapping somewhere for release.
The resolution quieted the Valley, and I felt a renewed sense of purpose at every meal. At Jerry Hill's request, we patrolled through Winona a few times but spotted nothing out of the ordinary.
We shifted our recruiting efforts north to Oneida, having added a farm specialist to our list. No one knew much about him. My dad hoped we could find some seed warehouse locations from him without actually offering him asylum in the Valley.
Recruiting teams still searched for a physician to help Dr. Jerrod and a veterinarian for Uncle George. Their old homes were empty. Both houses showed signs of occupancy after the crash, but with no source of heat, they were abandoned sometime this winter.
All the while, spring planting continued inside the greenhouses for early season crops. The historic last frost dates for Huntsville ranged between May 11 and May 20. As much as we wanted to get crops in the ground, risking the crop to frost was foolish, especially without National Weather Service alerts.
Mandy advised every household in our expanded network to prepare a main planting bed. The double dug bed needed to be at least three feet wide and 10 feet long, in a sunny spot. She offered spinach seeds for the first groups to prepare their planting beds since it was the first crop on the list to plant directly. Sweet peas and turnips were next. For those willing to start seeds in an indoor sunny place, Mandy offered a few bok choi, broccoli, cabbage, or kohlrabi seeds for early propagation. While we originally planned to hand over seeds and leave people on their own, our need to stretch the few seeds available changed that plan.
Bicycles made a comeback, in the Valley and around Huntsville. Many of those picking up seeds and other supplies from Justice now arrived on bikes. The nicer weather likely helped encourage their use. It also suggested the relaxation of this winter's bunker mentality. Our outreach efforts paid off in another way, no one shot at us as the Defenders zipped around on ninjas daily within our sphere of influence.
Grady returned to shadowing me. This gave us a lot of time to talk about the current state of the Army and the country. Despite my best efforts to set the issues aside, the plight of so many servicemen, women, and families tugged at me. I couldn't stay on the sidelines, not if I could do something to help. I had to help, and I hoped my community would support me.
Decision made, I left the warrior breakfast table at the food hut, grabbed a chair, and placed it at the end of the impromptu leadership table. And waited. Roger warned me in advance of the topic on the table.
"People in our sphere of influence are nearly at the end of their resources," Roger said. "Providing seeds and chickens won't prevent most of them from starving before the summer harvest. We need a load of corn or soybeans to tide them over until the crops begin producing."
"We can't spend the Valley resources needed to make that happen," my mom Claire said. "We need them here for planting. Haven't we lost enough of our own?"
"We still have more than a month before the last frost, so while we are gearing up, there is still time to send out an excursion," Roger said.
"What about the seeds in Knoxville?" my dad Aaron asked.
"I'm all for sending an expedition if we have a target location, and if we verify it is still intact," Roger said. "Have any of your farm contacts narrowed down the location?"
"All we have so far are addresses on receipts from last year's seed purchases. They might be accounting offices, not warehouses. Nor do we know if they have any seed. A lot of uncertainty to risk any of our people," Aaron said.
"Where are the addresses?" I asked. "Why not let Jules and me fly over and check them out? If the location is an office building, we can cross it off the list. If it is a warehouse, maybe we can spot a sign. All we lose is some aviation gas. I'm assuming we have detailed maps of the Knoxville area somewhere?"
"Of course, we have maps," Claire said.
"The sooner we go check, the sooner we learn what needs to be done," I said. "I also agree with Roger, we need to do something to help those in our sphere-of-influence. It is a lot easier to let people starve if you never see them. Or don't know them. Once they are no longer invisible, I can't ignore their suffering. Some spinach and peas won't pull them through the next three months."
"What do you think needs to be done?" Aaron said.
"I understand we can't use our stored food to save them all. It is our only insurance against crop failures and other calamities. The map I found at the extension office lists all the state, federal, and public grain elevators in the state, including a couple between Clarksville and us. I propose we raid one or more of them," I said. "If they are empty, we may need to expand to the area west of Clarksville.
"Even if you cross the Cumberland River, how do you drive a grain truck across the Tennessee River. All those bridges were blocked," Aaron said.
"Fort Campbell." All eyes at the table now stared at me. Even Phil glanced up from his breakfast plate, a slight smirk on his face. He avoided eye contact with me from the moment I sat down. The wily veteran and I had discussed the various options on a few recruiting trips to both Robbins and Oneida. During those outings, Phil always played the devil's advocate, arguing against intervention.
"What does Fort Campbell have to do with it?" Claire asked, clearly miffed. It was easier to argue with my parents when I thought of them as Valley leaders Claire and Aaron. A technique I should have adopted before.
"They have the manpower to unblock those bridges and transport the grain."
"Grady gave us the radio contact for them, but how do you intend to talk them into this?" Roger asked.
"Jules can fly us. If they have a reasonable post commander, he or she will be willing to consider something like this. I also want to interview about 20 soldiers and families to recruit them for our community. We don't want just anyone, but if I can interview them, that should alleviate some concerns."
"Do you trust Grady?" Aaron asked, turning to Roger.
"Yeah, I do," Roger answered. "I totally support raiding seed from Knoxville and grain from the elevators this side of Clarksville. But I draw the line at approaching outside
rs from Ft. Campbell. That part is too risky. If the grain elevators are empty this side of Clarksville, abort the mission and return to base."
"Alright, you and Jeremy work together and propose an operation. If we can keep our neighbors alive without risking the Valley, I'm willing to consider using minimal Valley resources to make it happen. If we go anywhere, I want enough firepower to limit our casualties. Take the resources you need, plus a bit more. We will keep our planting prep going, somehow," Aaron said.
Claire snapped her mouth shut, before relaxing. I recognized that look, she was reworking her plans. "We will figure out a way to stay on track. Having an extra semi-truck full of seed or a grain-truck full of corn could provide a nice buffer. If our neighbors survive this year, next year should be better." Was I the only one who noticed she said nothing about helping our neighbors?
She leaned forward in full lecture mode, "To support the Valley's current population requires a minimum of seven acres of biointensive beds. Growing crops that way isn't like the acres of corn or soybeans you are familiar with. It means more than 1,000 individual double dug garden plots about five feet wide and 50 feet long. Planted, watered, weeded, and harvested by hand. Between that harvest, our animals, and Jacob's traditional farming practices, on paper, we should break even. Barring bad weather, pests, or farmer error." She paused to make sure we were following her.
"Traditional American methods require more than 300 acres of crops to feed the current Valley population. And diesel, equipment, a lot of fertilizer, and a lot more viable seed. This year, I planned to rip out our pastures and plant every flat rocky acre in the Valley with food crops. I hoped to buy us time to transition us to more sustainable methods in the coming seasons. You know how I love tearing up plans, but I realized that we can't afford the waste. As much as I want our Valley to remain separate from the world, we are still affected by it.
"Most of our Valley, heck, most of the Cumberland Plateau, has terrible soil. It is thin, rocky, and can barely grow weeds. Generations of Breckinridges coaxed a living from this soil, but it was never meant to feed a population this size. Which is why they bought corn and sugar from the flatlands and turned it into moonshine. It allowed them to buy the food their family needed." That got a laugh since everyone at the table knew how Pops made his money.
Once the chuckles subsided, Claire continued, "for decades I worried how to feed everyone, post-apocalyptically speaking. That is one reason we recruited the Neufelds. Even that addition only got us partway. About five years ago, I started experimenting with a new way of farming, abandoning the plow and traditional rows. The apocalypse came before I was ready." Despite the topic, there were a few smirks around the table.
"After the Dust Bowl and World War II, Americans quit growing food in poor soil. It didn't pay. They couldn't compete with crops grown in deep rich soil, especially with the proliferation of interstate trucking, hybrid seeds, and supermarkets. While that was true in our country, many places in the world still had to grow food in bad soil. I'm counting on following in their footsteps. We aren't charting new ground here; villages in Africa and other third world countries have embraced biointensive farming for years. It allowed their population to feed itself on a fraction of the acreage, and without expensive farm equipment. That is what we are going to do, starting with this season." There were several concerned looks around the table.
"We probably have enough fuel and seed to plant the old fashioned American way for this season and maybe one more," she continued. "If the weather and pests cooperate, on paper, it takes nearly 4,000 square feet of highly productive garden to feed a person for a year. Whether that is enough in our subclimate is anyone’s guess. It also assumes the soil is tuned up and planted with a tightly controlled mix of crops. How prepared do you think the people are around Huntsville for that? Mandy is struggling to convince them to prepare a single bed a fraction that size."
No wonder Mandy was freaking out. The inmate field at Justice looked huge, but at that ratio would only provide food for 10 people. Converting the soccer field might feed another 30, but none of it was ready to plant. I doubted Huntsville had enough flat land to feed its people. Even if all available land was prepped and ready. Even if we had the seed.
"All of you hate statistics, but you need to face some cold hard facts," Claire said, glaring at those around the table, causing several to squirm in their seat, including me. "In the 2017 agricultural census, farmers in Mecklin County planted only 156 acres of crops," Claire said. "This included the 30 acres in the Valley. Using the American model, the entire county can produce enough food to feed only 156 people, leaving the rest of our population to starve." That jolted everyone at the table. This was one statistic they understood.
"That doesn't mean we can't expand the crop growing area, but it takes time. Mecklin County agriculture peaked in the 1930s, but even then, we imported most of our food. The main crop grown back then was 10,000 acres of corn, which I assumed no one ate but was converted into local moonshine. Other than family gardens, only 3,000 acres of actual food crops grew in the entire county, split evenly between Irish and sweet potatoes and fruit trees. Even if we could wave a magic wand and restore that and the corn acreage, without a miracle, few of our neighbors will live to see the new year."
I hadn't realized the food situation was that severe. This data made me wish for a fraction of those soy and grain fields we passed through in western Tennessee and along the Mississippi River. Even with seed, our population and available farmland were far apart.
"I don't think we can reverse this in time to save very many people. The smart move allows nature to take its course. Let the die-off happen, then rebuild from the ashes. I can support expeditions for seed and grain. I'm just not convinced wasting those resources on our neighbors is smart."
"It may not be smart, but we have to try," I said.
"Why?" Claire asked. "They will probably die, whether we intervene or not. Helping them just prolongs their suffering and increases the risk that they turn on us. We have finite resources and an infinite number of problems. Offer a lifeline to those with the skills and attitudes we need, and cut everyone else adrift."
I didn't like the way the others at the table nodded in agreement. None met my eye. The betrayers sucked all the charity from our group. Most of the council never left the Valley, they hadn't spoken with the families in Robbins or seen the little kids. Only Roger and Phil sitting at the table had recently interacted with people out in the cold. They were both stiff, eyes downcast, but not nodding in agreement with Claire, either.
"How many trucks of grain will it take to help those in our sphere of influence make it through next year?" Roger asked.
"Most of Africa lived on less than two pounds of food per day before the crash," Claire said. "Based on what Amelie tells me, most of our new refugees were down to a pound or less of food per day with only occasional bits of protein and no fat to speak of. To put that into perspective, in the Valley, we are now eating closer between three-to-four pounds per day. Less than that, and the body begins to break down. One trailer of corn holds around 800 bushels or nearly 45,000 pounds. Let's call it the equivalent of 100 people for one year, assuming they forage for the rest; maybe two or three times that with an extensive garden."
"If we can get four or five trailers here, that could bolster our local network for up to two years?" I added, "especially if we find that Knoxville seed warehouse and expand the local arable land. Potatoes and sweet potatoes reproduce without seed, so they should breed true. Spreading amaranth, millet, even kudzu has to help." I couldn't keep the pleading tone from my voice.
"We have the diesel for a trip," Roger said. "Jeremy has identified a co-op and a grain elevator near the Kentucky border this side of Clarksville. Jules can scout it from the air before we commit. We only scavenged a few diesel rigs so far, but only because we didn't need them. There are plenty of those around, and we have lots of trailers. We'll have to rig up some way to load them with g
rain or beans, but with our geniuses, that should be doable. We can argue about how to distribute what we retrieve later, let's secure this resource for our area right now."
Roger's words seemed to resonate in the group. Claire and Aaron sat, unmoving, neither endorsing nor opposing Roger's proposal. No one missed that Roger proposed sending Jules out as the initial scout. It didn't hurt that four trailers of grain could feed the Valley for a year, especially after being reminded the statistics weren't on our side.
"We have already driven most of the route, twice. With a decent-sized expedition, we can be back in two days. That includes 24 hours to load up," I said.
Even the most skeptical members of our leadership leaned forward with thoughtful expressions on their faces. Except for Claire and Aaron, who sat back in their chairs, but they were the only ones. I avoided looking at them, knowing my sponsoring this plan hurt them. None-the-less, I couldn't just think of them as my parents; they were our leaders, too.
The recent betrayal knocked them down, hard. They fixated now on avoiding risk. We shared the same goals, keeping our Valley safe. Having extra trailers of grain increased Valley security, whether we shared or not. That shifted the risk versus benefit calculus to favor the expedition, even in the minds of the most skeptical members of the council.
