The Sanders Saga

by N. C. Reed

  “I take it you need more than what they went after today?” Leon asked.

  “I will need to go to Columbia or maybe Murfreesboro tomorrow,” she nodded. “I need canning supplies and baking goods. We will have to raise wheat from now on if we want bread other than corn bread. I need a spare grain mill and there isn't time to order one so I have to find one somewhere tomorrow. We need-”

  “Run that list by the Dynamic Duo before you go,” Leon cut in. “They might well have thought of it.”

  “I will,” she nodded. “Our garden will have to be expanded,” she told him. “If this is as bad as the twins seem to think then no more running to the store for beans or potatoes. Or anything else for that matter,” she sighed.

  “We 'll make it,” Leon patted her leg.

  “I'm not really worried about me so much,” she admitted. “At my age, I won't have to go through too many years of this. But I need to make sure the kids are prepared. My grandchildren, I mean,” she clarified.

  “I hadn't put enough thought into that myself,” Leon admitted. “I need to start getting those two to write down things I can teach 'em. Things they 'll need one day when they're living the way I did back when.”

  “I started a notebook of things a few days ago,” Angela nodded. “Bread making, canning, preserves, everything that they take for granted now. For instance, what do you do when the sugar is gone?”

  “We used honey,” Leon shrugged.

  “Exactly, but do we have any bees?” Angela pointed out.

  “No, we don't,” the Old Man replied mournfully. “Something I should have thought of,” he admitted.

  “You should have told us sooner,” she semi-scolded. “We could have helped.”

  “I will concede that we should have told you earlier,” Leon said reluctantly. “Not anyone else. You saw Ally last night. She would never have let the twins help if we had told her. And had we told the others, she would have found out eventually.”

  “I suppose that is true,” she made a concession of her own. “Still, that's something to think about in the time we have left. Get a few bee hives and the gear to take care of them.”

  “Why don't you get a pen and paper,” Leon suggested. “Between the two of us, there's no telling what we can come up with in the next little bit.”

  “All right.”

  -

  Patricia had completed her pilfering of the office inventory, hiding everything in the back of her Expedition. The large vehicle was perfect for hiding plunder she had discovered. She had raided the small pharmacy they maintained, knowing that a cursory examination would reveal missing drugs, but some things she couldn't get anywhere else at the moment, since-

  She jarred to a halt in her thinking process. Prescriptions! She ran to her computer and pulled up the program that would write prescriptions on the printer loaded with watermarked paper and started printing prescriptions for every member of her family for every drug she could think of. All generics, they could be paid for with cash. It would require visiting a number of pharmacies, but there were pharmacies in many grocery stores and department stores these days.

  Of course, if this disaster didn't happen, Patricia would be facing a review board for writing all these prescriptions for her family, especially the pain medications.

  “You kids better be right about this,” she thought to herself as she typed.

  -

  “That's all the tanks topped off, Mrs. Sanders,” the propane truck driver said, presenting her with the bill. “We sure appreciate your business,” he added with a smile.

  “I appreciate you coming out here on such short notice,” she smiled back as she handed him a check. “I forgot to do this. Was supposed to have done it a month back. I'm sure I'll get an earful over the higher cost,” she chuckled.

  “Wasn't much,” the driver assured her. “You all have a good afternoon!”

  “You too,” she smiled again. As he was leaving the Co-op truck turned into the drive.

  “You've been busy this morning, haven't you?” Leon chuckled.

  -

  Patricia went and hid the prescriptions in her car once they were finished, sweating the fact that she had done it. Her career would be completely over and she'd be lucky to avoid prison if things didn't happen the way Clay and the twins said it would.

  “That's a hell of a thing,” she told herself as she went back inside. “The world burns and I'm okay, or the world scrapes by and I'm screwed. How do I win in that situation?”

  She would have to worry about that bridge when she saw it. For now she had more work to do. Pulling up every guide and manual she could think of, she began printing them off. Anything she thought she might need, she got it.

  Next, she went to the internet. Still working for now, she began pulling up e-books and buying any that looked promising or that she knew were valuable, downloading them to a flash drive and to her pad at the same time.

  “If it doesn't happen my credit card company will send a hit man after me,” she thought aloud to herself as the phone rang.

  “Jordan Medical,” she answered.

  “Is this Mrs. Sanders?”

  “Yes, it is,” Patricia replied.

  “Mrs Sanders, this is Kyle Freemont, at the sawmill?”

  “Hello Kyle,” Patricia fought to sound friendly. “What can I do for you?”

  “I've got a man that may have broken his foot here,” Freemont told her. “I'm almost certain it's broken in fact, but it's pretty bad from the look of it. The skin isn't broken but the foot is a bit deformed. I was thinking that's going to be more than you guys could handle. Right?”

  “Kyle, if it's that bad he may need surgery,” Patricia said. “You need to take him to the ER and do it right away. Deformity can indicate a lot of other issues as well, and waiting could be dangerous.”

  “Okay then,” Freemont sighed. “Thank you, Mrs Sanders.”

  “You're welcome and I hope it's not as bad as it sounds.”

  Because if it was, and the twins were right, the odds of that man's foot being treated and repaired were not good at all. And that would effectively leave him a cripple in the world they had described last night.

  Patricia had learned early on that she could not always help people no matter how badly she desired to or how much she tried. But to think that something that might be fixed by surgery today might not be possible by the end of the week due to loss of infrastructure was frightening. Injuries that she could fix today, or tomorrow, she might not be able to do anything about by Saturday.

  No x-ray, no MRI, no CT scans. No blood tests or other labs. No sending someone to Nashville to see a specialist. The enormity of the disaster facing them finally began to sink in on her as she realized there would be many, many people injured brutally in the days to come that would expect her to be able to heal them, but there would be many cases where she could do nothing. Modern medicine was about to take a giant leap backwards.

  Shuddering at such a thought, she got back to work, trying to make sure she had the resources to still do whatever she could.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  -

  Gordon gave a heartfelt sigh of relief as he saw a U-Haul truck one size smaller than theirs pull into the rest area followed by his own pickup. He would never admit it, but he had been worried.

  The two trucks stopped behind the others and everyone got out, Clay going at once to strip off the stolen tag and fake stickers from his father's truck. He took a bag from one of the stores Lainie had visited and placed the tag and the dead cop's badge inside after wiping them down, then placed the bag in a trash barrel, using a stick to force it deeper into the refuse. If he was lucky, no one would ever see it.

  “What's that about?” Gordon asked Lainie as she made her way to the group.

  “Have to ask him,” she said quietly.

  “Hello, Mister Brick!” Janice smiled.

  “Hello Janice,” the huge bouncer (ex-bouncer?) smiled. It was hard not to smi
le at her fresh-faced innocence, especially considering what she had been through.

  “Did you manage to get everything?” Gordon asked as Clay made his way over.

  “No idea,” she admitted. “At the last we were just grabbing stuff. Cards stopped working and people began to turn mean.”

  “What were you trying so hard to hide?” Gordon asked his youngest son.

  “Evidence,” he shrugged. “It's nothing. Are we all good?”

  “We're ready,” Gordon nodded, deciding to let the issue lie for now. “Waiting on you guys.”

  “We got caught in traffic,” Clay explained. “Bad wreck on the Interstate had things bottled up for a bit. Once we got free we stopped for ten minutes to get food and then we were back on the road.”

  “Well, we need to head for the barn,” Gordon ordered the assembled Sanders clan and hangers on. “We've still got a ways to paddle and things will only get worse. Everyone okay on fuel?” All heads nodded affirmative.

  “All right then,” Gordon nodded. “Ronny, your truck leads. Lainie, you take the back. I 'll pull in second, then Robert with Clay's truck and trailer, then the RV, then Clay. Lainie behind him. Stay off the radio unless we have to communicate. Leon, Leanne, anything new to tell us?”

  “No,” came the united reply from the back seat of Ronny's truck.

  “Okay then,” Gordon sighed. “Unless it's really important, you can tell us any changes once we get home, or if we have to stop. Otherwise, the less attention we draw to ourselves, the better off we are. Any questions or problems before we head out?”

  When no one spoke and several heads shook 'no', Gordon make a spinning motion with one finger pointing skyward.

  “Then let’s ride.”

  -

  “Are we gonna tell 'em about that cop?” Gordy asked as they settled into line, back on the Interstate.

  “Doesn't matter,” Clay shrugged. “Can if you want.”

  “I don't care if they know or not,” Gordy snorted. “I know some of our family can't stand not knowing, but I ain't one of 'em. I can keep a secret or go without knowing one either.”

  “That's a good quality to have,” Clay nodded. “But I doubt that girl Janice will be able to keep it to herself. Even if she's not a blabbermouth she 'll let it slip sooner or later.”

  “I don't think anyone will say anything, except probably Aunt Ally,” Gordy shrugged. “If someone offered her a million dollars to go a day without saying something bad about something or someone, she still couldn't do it.”

  “Probably not,” Clay burst out laughing. “She was that way when I left, too. It's not a new thing.”

  “I remember when you left,” Gordy nodded. “Well, I remember you not being there anymore,” he amended. “Not the same thing I guess.”

  “Close enough,” Clay shrugged.

  “Why did you leave, Uncle Clay?” Gordy asked. “I mean it seems to have worked out for the best for the rest of us, considering this warning and all,” he held up his hands. “But you seem to enjoy being home, so I just wondered why you left to start with.”

  “More than one reason,” Clay said after a minute. “Wanted to see more of the world than Jordan,” he said simply, shrugging. “Got tired of living in your dad and aunt's shadow, too,” he admitted. “Wanted more.”

  “More what?” Gordy asked.

  “Everything,” Clay shrugged again. “I didn't realize what I had then, that's all. Usually don't until it's too late. I hated it here at the time and wanted free of it. The Army was a way to get free, even if just for a while. After that while, though, I got to realizing what I'd left and I wanted it back. But you can't go back, so all you can do is try to pick up and move on. That's what I'm trying to do,” he shrugged yet again.

  “You sound like an old man who's gonna die or something,” Gordy snorted. “You ain't all that much older than me.”

  “I can't remember ever being as young as you,” Clay told replied softly.

  -

  It was slow going with so many large and heavily loaded vehicles. The drivers were having to be very cautious as they approached on and off ramps, as other drivers would pull in front of them. Pulling to the left lane was out of the question, since it would separate them to the point they might not be able to get back in line. That would mean stopping, and no one wanted to stop until they reached home.

  The fact they were forced to go slow wasn't bad, as traffic was much worse than normal. Gordon initially put that down to their trying to get out of Greater Nashville at quitting time for many of the factories there, but as they got further and further away from the city, the traffic didn't clear up any. On a whim, he tried the radio in the rented truck.

  Static. Not a single station could be heard, on AM or FM. Nothing.

  He wondered if anyone else had noticed that.

  -

  “What's wrong with the radio?” Abby said aloud as she tried to get some music. She hit scan and waited, but the radio simply continued to move. She changed to AM and repeated it, finally getting one station; the DOT channel that told people coming into Nashville about traffic conditions.

  “Satellites are gone,” Deuce said, looking at his tablet and his cell phone. “Lasted longer than we thought,” he said to his sister.

  “Figure the wave didn't hit all at once,” she nodded, fiddling with her own tablet. “Two ejections, so maybe two proton waves. Losing the satellites has cost us our link to SOHO,” she added, furiously punching the touch screen on her tablet. “We're pretty much blind from here on. About the only thing that will still work is maybe hardened military sats.”

  “How do you know all this?” Alicia demanded, half turning in her seat.

  “Public information, Mom,” Leanne rolled her eyes. “Everyone that reads knows that. Even Wikipedia or Google.”

  “Don't roll your eyes at me!” Alicia snapped. “And don't take that tone with me either!”

  “Enough,” Ronny told his wife, his voice firm. “You asked a question, and phrased it in such a way as to imply she couldn't know what she was talking about. Stop snapping at them because she put you in your place. They're working their asses off to help. And they're doing it without complaining,” he added, allowing a hint of something like disapproval into his voice. “Let them be.”

  Huffing, Alicia turned back to look out the front, angry that her daughter had spoken to her in such a way and angrier still that her husband had taken Leanne's side. It didn't help that her grown niece was sitting beside her smirking openly.

  “If this all turns out to be a bunch of crap I guess we 'll see who knows what,” she said sullenly.

  She got even angrier that everyone in the truck ignored her.

  -

  “Radio's gone,” Gordy said as he turned the dial. “Nothing on either band.”

  “Lot of radio is satellite driven these days,” Clay mentioned. “Possible the satellites are gone.”

  “Already?” Gordy asked.

  “Lasted longer than the twins estimated by. . .two hours and change,” Clay pointed out after looking at his watch. “Of course, they did that on the fly with your Aunt Alicia flapping her big mouth the whole time,” he added with a snort.

  “Yeah,” Gordy sighed. “Wonder what she's gonna be like now?”

  “I'd rather not think about it.”

  -

  “No more radio,” Lainie sighed, switching it off finally.

  “What happened to it?” Janice asked.

  “Most radio stations these days broadcast by satellite,” Lainie told her. “They still have a morning show maybe, or evening, but a lot of their time is music or talk radio from a large station broadcast to them by satellite. The satellites have probably been damaged or destroyed by the early storm waves.”

  “Are we in danger?” Janice asked, looking startled.

  “No,” Lainie shook her head. “No, the storm itself won't hit for a day or so more,” she promised. “Plenty of time for us to get home and under cover.
And anyway, as far as I've heard, the storm won't be harmful to us directly. Just to electronics for the most part.”

  “So the radio would have stopped working in a few days anyway,” Janice mused. “Does that mean we won't have music anymore?” she sounded mournful.

  “We 'll still have CDs and recordings,” Lainie assured her. “We won't have any new music I guess, unless we make it ourselves.”

  “I don't think I like a world with no music,” Janice said softly.

  -

  And so it went. Discussions, discoveries, disclosures, all along the little convoy. Their speed reduced, it took them almost twice as long to get home as it did to get to Nashville, putting them finally back on their own road with the sun low in the sky.

  “Not bad I guess,” Gordon mused to himself. “Still glad to see home,” he sighed. He was too old for this kind of thing he decided.

  “Gate to the Troy place, Pa,” he heard over the radio. “Stop us there.”

  Gordon wondered what that was about but dutifully pulled in, Ronny's truck continuing on to the house, another hundred yards or so to their own drive.

  Gordy came running up and tapped a set of codes into the gate's pad and the gate opened to admit them into the compound that had once been the Troy farm. Surprised, Gordon pulled inside. There were a lot of new buildings inside. He parked and got out of his truck, stretching as he did so. So many hours driving the big truck had made him sore.

  “Why are we stopping here?” he asked when Clay got out.

  “This is where we 'll store everything for now,” Clay told him. “We can unload and go through it tomorrow unless you guys got anything that would spoil,” he added.

  “No, but we don't lease this, Clay,” Gordon objected. “How are we going to get away with this if the new owner shows up?”

  “I'm the new owner,” Clay sighed, knowing the time had come to be completely honest, at least with his father. “I bought this place a few weeks after I got home.”

  Stunned silence as Gordon took that in.

  “Gordy,” Clay turned to his nephew, “Start directing vehicles into the barns. They should be empty. Make sure that we can get the door closed and locked. I guess pull the trailer in first so the truck can pull all the way through, maybe,” he shrugged.