Oil Apocalypse Collection

by Lou Cadle

  “I’m not just being nice either. You keep training. You watch those of us who know what we’re doing, and you follow our lead. You’re smart, maybe the smartest of any of us except Mitch Morrow. Use your head. You’ll make it. And I know you’re hurting right now, but you want to live. When the time comes, you’ll fight to protect yourself, and your dad, and your home.”

  “Will it ever be over?”

  “It will be. Either gas will come back, or it won’t. And if it doesn’t, in a few months, maybe a year, a lot of people will have either figured out how to live, or....”

  “Or?” Sierra realized what came after that. “Or they’ll be dead, right?”

  “That’s right. What will kill them in the cities is taken care of for you. You have food, and electricity, and four solid walls, neighbors who care about you and will never turn on you. All you need to do is find within yourself the will to go on. You give yourself time to find it, and don’t give up until you’ve had a chance to move beyond this past week.”

  Sierra thanked her and returned the knife. She left and detoured to the hens to feed them her stale peanut butter sandwich, and then she hunted for her father. She’d eat lunch with him, no matter how little she wanted to eat. Cook it, too, if he hadn’t already.

  It might not make her feel better, but it would make him feel better to see her eat something. She had to remember he’d lost his dog too. And he’d buried the bodies, cleaning up her mess. It was time to quit being such a burden on him and grow the hell up.

  Chapter 20

  Arch Quinn had always told people this day would come, and his predictions were coming true. The gasoline shortage was the trigger, but the trouble spread out fast and hard from there. Food deliveries slowing down or stopping had been the worst ingredient of this fubar situation. What Arch hadn’t anticipated was that communications would go to hell too.

  None of them had ever wasted money on satellites for television, not even the Morrows who had the money to burn, but they had shared the cost of the internet repeater halfway up the hill.

  Living far from a big city made sense, but it also meant the radio stations they could get were limited, particularly here in mountain country. And now the cell phones weren’t showing any signal. Had some damned vandals pulled down a crucial cell tower, taking out a cell? Were power lines in town down, or what? He had no idea. Without the news, he couldn’t know why the news wasn’t getting to them. A catch-22.

  It made him nervous to have so little idea of what was coming. And when he got nervous, he grew short-tempered.

  Kelly said, “We just do what we always did. Prepare for the worst, and hope it doesn’t come.”

  “Phoenix has almost a million people in it.” It had a much higher population back when they bought the land up here, but since the summers had gotten up to 135 or 140 degrees every year, with the low most nights staying above 100, a lot of people had fled Phoenix for places like Flagstaff or Albuquerque, which had surpassed Phoenix in population a half dozen years ago.

  “That’s true,” Kelly said. “More coffee?”

  “No! I want to know what’s going on out there.”

  “I suppose you could take the truck out again and go see. Or at least drive over the ridge to get Phoenix radio on your truck.” She put the coffee pot back and sat across from him. “But I’d rather you didn’t.”

  “I can’t leave you two alone.”

  “I’m more worried about you. I think we have to assume there are people out there. We know they’re hungry in Payson, and some must be out on the roads. Desperate people. And marauding gangs, at worst. Hungry people will do anything. They wouldn’t hesitate to jump your truck at a stop sign and turn it over, hoping you had an apple in your pocket.”

  “I know. I know. I’m not going anywhere. I know it’s too risky. I just feel so...so blind.”

  “We are,” she said. “We can’t know what’s going to happen until it does happen. Isn’t that why we’ve set a guard?”

  “So we get three minutes’ warning—just enough time to throw on shoes. I want more.”

  “Look,” she said. “It’s not as if the radio or net would say, ‘Hey, Arch, there are exactly eighty-two people headed up the state road that goes by your place.’”

  “I’d pay a surcharge if it did.”

  “With what? I bet you that our money isn’t worth much right now. Food, bullets—those’ll be the only currency that matters in the near future, if we’re not there already.”

  “In which case, I’d like to know if the bank that has our money has failed.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course it matters!”

  “Damn it, Arch,” she said, stunning him. She almost never cursed, and she never ever cursed at him. “We’re okay. We have food. We have thousands of rounds for our weapons. We have the will to use them. We have everything we need because we’ve been preparing for years. Since the trouble up here, the Crockers have gotten on board with our defense plans. And yes, our prepping has made us targets for people who don’t have those things, but what other choice did we have? The little bit of money we had in the bank isn’t important at all compared to that. You, me, Devlin—we’re alive. Try to focus on what we have. And what we can control.”

  “I know,” he said.

  “If you have a specific plan, a way to improve our defenses, a training exercise to suggest, if you want to bury more of our food staples to hide them from thieves, something like that, I’m all for it. You decide, and unless it’s a totally crazy idea, I’ll do it.”

  “I’m properly chastened. You can stop lecturing now.”

  “Arch,” she said, and she kissed his forehead. “You know, I think your hairline is receding.”

  “The stress of being married to you, no doubt.”

  She smacked him playfully. “Watch it, buster.”

  He knew he had been handled, and effectively. But he loved her for it. It was part of what she brought to their partnership, a counterweight to his quick temper, a clear eye always focused on the big picture, a solid base that he could count on.

  She was moving off to do dishes, but he grabbed her and reeled her back in, pulling her onto his lap. “Next time Devlin is on watch, I want to see you in the bedroom.”

  “That’s not a very good defensive plan.”

  “Just in case it gets worse, while we can, I want to enjoy your company one more time.”

  Her playful manner fled. “Don’t say that. It sounds like you’re planning on getting yourself killed.”

  “No, nothing that serious. I was thinking we’d be too busy. Maybe we’ll have to double up on night watch. That’s all I was thinking. I won’t get hurt.”

  “Make sure you live up to that promise.” She kissed him gently, a lingering kiss that wasn’t about sex.

  But he felt it, felt what she was saying to him, her love pouring into his body like a magic elixir, and by the time she broke, he was fighting down emotion. She’d better keep herself safe too. Arch knew he couldn’t control everything, couldn’t be everywhere at once, and if the next attack was worse, with more people and better organization and more skilled marksmen, she would have to wade out into the middle of it as well.

  Time to go over to the Crockers’. He’d promised them night vision goggles, which they didn’t have. Before it was all over, he’d be supplying them with ammunition, no doubt. Frustrating they hadn’t planned better for warfare, but it was worth supplying them to keep the whole neighborhood safe. Morrow had been right about that.

  Crocker wasn’t a bad shot, and Henry was downright good. Having trained people to watch his back was crucial. And having his property on the front line was more dangerous for his family, but all things considered, it was probably best he was next to the road with his superior arsenal and training. If they could hold, everyone else behind them would be safe. If they needed everyone to rush forward and supply support, there was a signal for that—text signals, if the phones were working,
and the silver whistle if the phones were down. Light signals from flashlights were a last resort, as they’d interfere with the night vision goggles and scopes, but he’d taught everyone those signals too.

  He found Crocker only by chance when he glanced up to see him up on one of the wind turbines. He whistled louder, an all-clear whistle, and after trying it twice, finally he got Crocker to look down. Seeing Arch, he raised a hand and signaled “five” twice.

  Arch took the time to go check out the new chicks that were making a fuss in their pen. Crocker had chicken wire over it, so no hawk could swoop down and get them. They were growing up, entering that awkward stage. Kelly would have new chicks any time now as well. And the rabbits were breeding up a storm, living up to their reputation on that count.

  The rooster fussed at him. Probably knew he’d failed to protect his harem last week and was trying to make up for it now. The hens and rooster were all cooped up now that the dog was gone. They really did have to find another dog—or two dogs, or more. Arch sent up a prayer for a pregnant stray to come along before too long.

  * * *

  Pilar came down the tower as quickly as was safe. He’d kept Quinn waiting for more than ten minutes.

  “Sorry,” he said, when he had unbuckled his harness.

  “Problem up there?”

  “Looking at what it’d take to bring the turbine down partway.”

  “Can you?”

  “I don’t want strangers to see it. If they have maps, they might know we’re here. But if they don’t, and they’re passing by and this catches their eye, we’re in trouble.”

  Arch kept himself from pointing out it had been him mentioning this weeks ago. “So can you take it down?”

  “I can lower it on the tower. To shorten the tower, I might need to haul up welding equipment.”

  “Sounds dangerous.”

  “It would be.”

  “How about your electricity? Will it affect that?”

  “I’ll lose some. The height of the blades is determined by the ridge height and the tree height.” He pointed up the hill. “Lower it beyond that ideal range, and what you get is more turbulence.”

  “Less electricity?”

  “Less electricity, maybe half, plus more wear and tear on the components. Turbulence means it will be shaken around more.”

  “So you going to do it?”

  “Yeah. I can’t right this minute, though.”

  Arch was glad to hear it was in the works. He wouldn’t push today. “Just ask if you need a hand.”

  “I’ll probably take you up on that.”

  “Imagine you can see a good way from up there. Down the road?”

  “A very short way. The trees cut off part and then the curve leaves you blind.”

  “Still, it might be a good place to reconnoiter a developing situation. How long does it take you to get up and down?”

  “Ten minutes up, five down, going fast. I suppose in an emergency I could cut a minute off each way, but that’d be pushing, and every second I cut would increase the risk of falling.”

  Arch shook his head. “Too long anyway.”

  “Your kid made it up to the cistern platform the other day in no time. Seconds.”

  “Can’t see out to the road from there, I imagine.”

  “No, nowhere near, but you can see over to your house and garden.”

  “Well, speaking of seeing, I brought you two pairs of night vision goggles, as promised.”

  “That’s mighty nice of you. You sure you can spare them?”

  “I had extras, and we have scopes on the rifles too. That’s mostly what we use.”

  “It’d sure have helped me the other night.”

  “You know how to use them?”

  “Not really.”

  “Okay, let me give you a quick explanation. But I’ll have to show you better at night. Bring them when you relieve me tonight for guard duty, and we’ll go through it then. The important thing is to avoid looking at light. If someone has a flashlight, or headlights, it’ll hurt, and you’ll lose vision. The right hand eyepiece is regular vision, like a monocular, 2x. The left lens is the night vision.”

  “They take batteries?”

  “Lithium, built in. They won’t last forever, though, so turn them off when they aren’t in use.”

  Sierra appeared at the back door and waved.

  “Your kid doing okay? Kelly said she came over to talk the other day and seemed troubled, but she didn’t say why. Said it was a private talk between them.”

  “I hope she’s okay,” Crocker said. “I think every day might be a little easier for her, but she’s not saying much to me. I’m glad she went to Kelly.”

  “If there’s anything else she can do, I’m sure she’ll be glad to.”

  “I think it’ll take time. And don’t say it. I know we might not have time. She’ll have to be ready when and if anything happens. She will be.”

  Arch didn’t say anything to that. He glanced up at the wind turbines. “You know, until you get to the very top of them, maybe climbing them would be a bad idea anyway. You’d be an easy target up there, and you wouldn’t have your hands free to shoot back, would you?”

  “Good point. Thanks for the goggles. I need to get inside. We’re canning today.”

  “Life goes on, doesn’t it?”

  “We can hope,” Crocker said, and offered his hand, which he seldom did.

  Arch shook it and left.

  * * *

  Pilar turned for the garden, meeting Sierra at the gate. She held two empty bushel baskets.

  “What did Arch want?” she said.

  “To give us these.” He held up the goggles to show her and hung them on the gate post. “Night vision. Don’t let me forget to take them inside.”

  “Oh, okay. So should we pick the end of the berries first?”

  “Yeah, let’s start there.”

  He couldn’t help but think how normal the activity was and how different it felt. With the possibility of attack always there, it felt almost wrong to stop and deal with the produce. But the food was the whole point of defending the land. A quotidian act, to pick fruits and can them, but one with its meaning turned on its head after the last few weeks.

  By mid-afternoon, the kitchen was hot and filled with steam, and dozens of brightly colored jars were cooling on the counters and center island. A half-dozen big mixing bowls were dirty from mixing up brines and other concoctions. And Sierra had to leave to do her second stint on guard duty, taking over from Mitch Morrow. Pilar had an evening shift and another at 3 a.m. Every day the shifts changed, so that no one person had a bigger burden than the others. Or maybe Arch had done it that way to keep them fresher, more alert out there.

  He looked around the kitchen and thought how he missed Lisette. He only missed her when he could spare the time to think about it. And he wished she were here and safe, rather than who-knew-where and in who knows what kind of situation. But right now, selfishly, he wouldn’t mind the help in the kitchen. He felt like he was falling behind on his chores. He’d only begun to think through what lowering the turbine would require before Quinn had come over. And he’d be lucky to finish up in here by the time Sierra returned.

  Thinking of Lisette made him think of Theda, Sierra’s mother. Probably where she was, living in a lower tech place anyway, if they suffered a change to less oil, it wouldn’t be as much a shock to the social systems. They were hardly a generation removed from oxen farming over there anyway, so they could switch back to it with hardly a ripple. Americans were going to have a much harder time. He wondered if there were going to be acres and acres of wheat and oats and corn that went unpicked this year. He could imagine it, the Midwest, all those thousands of acres of grain, left on the stalk, and the crows and jays feasting on it right through the autumn.

  Chapter 21

  As the shadows deepened, Sierra grew more nervous. She wished they could have two people on watch at the same time, but of course with so few
people living on their road, and so many summer chores needing to be done, they couldn’t. She checked her phone, which was useless as a phone but still told her the time. She had turned off the voice functions so it didn’t give her away at the wrong time, and had to actually look at the screen to know the time. Only eight more minutes until she was relieved of duty.

  She had been walking through the woods most of her watch. Now, in her last minutes, she risked coming out to the edge of the forest and peering both ways down the paved road. There was no one there, no sound of cars.

  She had made it through another watch safely.

  Curt Henry came to relieve her at the base of the Quinn driveway a few minutes early. “Hey, Curt,” she said, when he was within a dozen yards.

  “How’s it been?”

  “Quiet. Maybe we’ll never have another problem.”

  He shook his head.

  “I can hope, right? No harm in hoping.”

  “As long as you keep up your training.”

  “I am. I even got a word of praise from Arch today.”

  “That’s good.” He shifted his rifle around and said, “You can get home now.”

  For some reason she didn’t understand, she wanted to stay with him. Yeah, he was strange-looking. But he was quiet, a kind of quiet that she thought had depth to it. Or maybe the word she was looking for was “balance.” He was self-contained, like he only needed himself and no one else. She wasn’t sure why that might draw her, as it seemed logical it would push her away, but right now it did draw her. Maybe because she wanted to be like that.

  “Why do you put up with us?” She blurted it out before she had a chance to think it through.

  “Sorry?” he said.

  “I get the feeling you could do just fine alone. Like you’d go up into the woods and build a tree house or something, and no one would ever find you or hurt you.”

  “I have a house, a garden, things I’d rather not hand over to some stranger.”

  “You could though, couldn’t you?” She pointed out into the woods. “Make it out there alone.”