by S A Ison
She turned as the couple came back into the spacious living room and smiled brightly, putting all thoughts of Pike from her mind.
“We’ll take it!” Jessy exclaimed happily.
“Wonderful! Let’s go back to the office and I’ll draw up the paperwork.” Beverly’s smile was big, but inside she wasn’t nearly as happy.
Damn you, Pike.
Rowland, NC, 1 August 2018
Harley and Christy lay in bed. It had been a long day of canning. Christy had begun to gather in the harvest from their large garden. He was glad she did it in steps. He didn’t know how she did it, jars and jars of everything he could imagine.
“Tired, honey?”
He shook his head. “I honestly don’t know how you do it. Between the hot steam, cutting things up, picking things… crap,” he breathed.
She laughed, and he felt her hand slide over his chest.
He brought his hand up to hold hers and squeezed. “Why do you can so much? I mean, the basement is stacked to the ceiling with jars and jars of food from last year and even the year before.”
“My granny always told me never to eat much out of the garden, to put that away for when times were lean. She grew up during the depression.” He felt her shrug. “I guess it just stuck. My mom did it, and now I do it.”
“But, well, I mean, isn’t that just a lot of unnecessary work? We have stores we can always buy food from. A lot of my sample products could last for months if you needed.”
“I know you’re on the road a lot and you don’t get to watch the news, but there’s a lot of bad going on out there, honey.” She scooted over, placing her head on his shoulder. He smelled her clean hair and suddenly became distracted.
He felt her squeeze his hand and he grinned. “Sorry, what were you saying?”
“Look. There’re disasters all over the world. There’s the crisis in Venezuela? They have food shortages down there. It’s been going on for years, only they rarely show it on the news. Puerto Rico lost its power grid and was down for a hell of a long time. And still there are a lot of people down there without power. I’m just saying, we might have supermarkets and all that, but what happens if, all of a sudden, that ends?”
“Christy, that won’t happen to our country.”
“Why not? How can you guarantee that? That the dollar won’t be destabilized, that North Korea won’t go over the edge and send out bombs, or Russia, or China, or Iran, or Iraq?”
He didn’t know what to say. He was stunned that his wife had all this on her mind. They’d not really talked about these kinds of things ever. It was always about the kids and the farm, and work.
“You’re really worried about all that?” he asked, shaken.
“Yes, and you should be too. My granny had it right. She always told me: ‘Plan for the worst and hope for the best.’ We’ve got enough food in the basement to last us years. I use the older stuff every day so we can save money at the grocery. Plus, I know there are no pesticides in our food. No hormones. Our chickens are free range, they get home-grown corn. I like it that way. I know our boys are healthy – and you too, for the most part.” She giggled and poked him in the gut, which, he had to admit, had gone a little soft over the years.
“I guess I didn’t know you worried so much about those things.”
“I don’t worry a lot. I just keep in mind what’s going on around me. We live in a fragile world, honey. That’s why this farm is so important to me. I want our boys to carry on with it. They’re healthy and happy and have responsibility. How many seven-year-olds do you know that milk cows, feed chickens, rabbits, and all the other chores they do?”
“I don’t know many seven-year-olds. Ouch, what was that for?” he laughed when she poked him hard.
“Keep laughing, funny boy, and you’ll be canning a lot more tomorrow.”
“Okay okay. Geez, you’re touchy. So, why do you can beef?”
“Because when I order a side of beef, most of it won’t get used for a while. I don’t like the taste of frozen beef. And don’t you dare tell me not to eat it frozen,” she laughed. She knew him so well and he hummed with laugher, because he’d been about to say just that.
She poked him again and he grabbed her hand to protect himself. “Well, it does taste good when you can it. I like it better that way, too. Was just wondering. Also wondering why I love you so much.”
“’cause you’re damned lucky to have me and you know it, city boy.” She laughed and turned into him. He pulled her to him and began to kiss her. She made his heart race. Yes. He was damn lucky.
Maryville, MO, 1 August 2018
Margo sipped the wine. She was glad Pike had found a Geiger counter. She’d received his potassium iodide tablets and had decided to order herself some as well. She checked the expiration date and decided to reorder more in six months’ time. Each day that went by, the nuclear torpedo lay heavier on her mind. Some days she felt like she couldn’t breathe. Since reading that horrible article, she stayed awake at night, going over lists of things they needed.
Even though all appeared to have gone great with Orlov’s visit, she couldn’t help feeling overwhelmed by a sense of impending doom. She didn’t trust the media, she didn’t trust her government, and she certainly didn’t trust the Russians. It was a helpless feeling, and she didn’t like feeling helpless one bit. It made her angry. She didn’t like that either.
She’d feel better once Pike arrived, though she didn’t know why. It wasn’t as though he could stop this from happening any more than she could. Yet the thought of having him around calmed her better than anything else.
She smiled. He’d had a crush on her for years. Back in school, he’d been such a geeky kid, tall, gangly and skinny. So thin, she’d thought he had some kind of eating disorder. Yet she’d seen him devoured four sandwiches he’d brought to lunch. A bottomless pit, a walking empty gut. Her mother had called it a hollow leg syndrome.
She’d broken his heart when she left Georgia with Bobby. It had been written all over his thin face, his eyes looking like a kicked puppy’s. He’d been too young for her, and she’d only considered him a friend.
She laughed out loud as she remembered how he’d tried to sound sad about her divorce. Binx, her mini-pinscher, looked up at her from his bed. He wagged his stump of a tail and laid his head back down. His brows moved up and down questioningly as he watched her.
She’d been stepping up her gathering, as she called it. Small purchases here and there. She got up and went into the spare bedroom, and hauled out the box she’d been putting the items into. Inside were several rolls of duct tape; apparently all preppers said it was a must-have. She mentally shrugged. So she’d gotten it. There were a couple bundles of paracord, and lighters instead of matches.
The first aid kit was comprised of several tubes of antibacterial ointment and a box of Band-Aids. A roll of plastic sheeting… what she would do with that, she had no idea. It was a sad box. Most of the things seemed, to her, useless. She certainly wasn’t going to MacGyver anything from them. She let out a huff, blowing a curl from her forehead. Sometimes she felt foolish. Then, at other times, she felt relieved.
She’d ordered a few solar-powered lanterns. They worked great, thank you Amazon. She bought most of her things from there or other online stores. She was trying to keep the purchases she made in town low-keyed.
People from small towns were inherently nosy, especially about outsiders, and she’d noticed that some of the older women watched what she put in her cart. “What on earth are you going to do with all that tape, young lady?” one had asked when she bought the duct tape. She’d been stunned that the old thing would even ask. “Oh, my fender’s kind of hanging, and I was told that this stuff would hold it in place until I could get it fixed,” she’d lied. The old bat had responded, “I say spend a little extra money and go to the repair man. That stuff will ruin the finish.” Margo had stared at her. “Well, if you’re offering to pay for it?” The woman had looked shocked a
nd rolled her cart away, muttering to herself.
Margo laughed at the remembrance. “Old biddy,” she mumbled, looking down at the duct tape. She had also acquired a few packets of screws, nails, and a staple gun with staples. She sat down on the floor and looked around the room. A couple more medium-sized boxes held the rest of her prepping things. There was a Swiss Army Knife in one of them, she knew.
Perhaps, once Pike arrived, they could go and meet Sayer, go shopping in Lincoln. It was only a little over one hundred miles away. They could really do some damage in the stores there among strangers. Except, of course, Sayer.
Margo wondered how the next few months would go. She and Pike hadn’t really talked too much over the phone. She kind of felt shy about it. She figured they have plenty of time to chat once he arrived. He could help her get more things and become better organized.
Sayer was Pike’s friend, but she knew she would be meeting him soon as well. She was very interested to meet him. She’d never met a hard-core prepper. Sure, she’d seen the TV series, but his page didn’t give her that crazy-in-the-head impression. Just common-sense stuff.
If she were honest, she felt trapped. Her small apartment only had so much storage space, and there was really no defense. Anyone could kick in her door; it wasn’t even real wood. She’d started watching more videos, and learned that if there wasn’t a metal casement around the door, even if you had a steel door, people could kick it in. Her door was made out of that particle board crap, and she’d checked the door casement. It was wood. People could get in, kill her and take all she had easily, and she could do nothing to stop them.
And what if there was a massive explosion and she survived? Would she survive the radiation? And if she survived the radiation, would she survive disease and starvation? How long could she survive on what she had in her cupboard?
These questions nagged at her day and night, driving her to distraction. It was like she was becoming obsessed with this POSEIDON business, and she didn’t even know why it scared her so badly.
The United States was always being threatened with something, be it bombs or cyber-attacks. What had made this article scare her so damn much? What was it about the Russians that made her wake up at night in a cold sweat? She didn’t know, but she did know that she was very afraid. Sayer was too, and he was a seasoned prepper. Pike had mention that Sayer had been shaken up by the articles. She tried to tell herself she was just scaring herself… well, she was, but it was more than that.
She got up off the floor, went to the kitchen and began opening her cupboard doors. Looking at the contents, she became angry. At herself this time. She had maybe a month’s worth of canned food, ten pounds of pasta, a fifteen-pound bag of rice... If she stretched it out, her food would last maybe two months.
How the hell am I supposed to cook this stuff? I have an electric stove. She then counted her water bottles, just twenty-two. That wouldn’t last a month. How the hell would she get water if the power were gone? In the apartment it came from the tap, but where did that come from? If she needed to heat it, how? They had the pool, but Christ, would she want to drink that? Kids pee in the pool, eww. She could boil it, but still, eewww. But boiling it required a place to build a fire, and firewood. She didn’t have firewood. There was the lake, but she’d have to walk a long way, six miles or better, to get there.
She turned around and around in her small kitchen, despair freezing her mind, then went to the table. Pulling out a chair, she sat down, put her head in her hands and wept. Here she’d thought she was getting prepared, but she’d just been fooling herself. She wasn’t anywhere close to being prepared. If the SHTF today, she’d be dead within a month, just like everyone else. She’d live beyond that, but it would be a slow agonizing death from starvation.
She had fooled herself into thinking she was really prepared to meet whatever came. She wasn’t even close. She’d missed the friggin’ mark by a mile. Fear, grief, rage, and anger fought for supremacy. She’d been wasting time, self-delusional. She’d never lied to herself before, or rather, usually tried never to lie to herself.
She sat back in the chair and looked up at the ceiling, as though the answers were written there. Of course, they weren’t. Once Pike got there, she promised herself, she would kick her ass into the prepping game. She wouldn’t be one of those millions dropping dead. She’d be damned if she’d let this beat her. Her jaw firmed up and she reached for a tissue to blow her nose. She would just pull up her big-girl flowered panties and kick some ass.
CHAPTER SIX
Maryville, MO, 1 August 2018
Pike pull into the apartment complex, parked, and turned the truck off. His heart was beating fast now. He could feel it in his fingertips and his ears. He was moments away from seeing Margo. It was eight long years since he’d last seen her in person. He’d grown up a lot since then, but he was still young, and felt inexperienced when he compared himself to her. She had a marriage under her belt and had been on her own for nine years.
He felt like a child but didn’t care. He’d loved her for so long. He knew he shouldn’t put his heart out there like that, knew the risk of being crushed by the friend zone, but there was no help for it. If he had to spend the rest of his life as her friend, he would. He’d always been proud to call her his friend, and he always would be. He knew he didn’t stand a chance with her, really, but to be in her magnificent presence would be good enough. He hoped.
It was late, nearly 9 pm. He’d called thirty minutes before to get the final directions, as her apartment didn’t show up on the GPS. He hadn’t wanted to waste precious time looking around for it. He’d also wanted her to know he was near, so as to not just show up and alarm her. That would be a bad start.
Taking a deep breath, he climbed out of the truck. he was walking up to the apartment when the door opened, and the angel’s wept as she stepped out, the light shining behind her like a halo. Pike nearly stumbled. She was more beautiful in real life than he could have imagined. Her profile picture on Facebook did nothing to capture her beauty. Her skin was a lustrous pale brown, her hair wild and brown with blond strands woven in. He couldn’t see her eyes, but he knew they were a beautiful hazel color. He shook his head, grinning so wide it nearly hurt his face. He almost didn’t catch her when she ran to him and wrapped her arms around him.
He felt the sting of tears, blinked rapidly, and hugged her to himself. Her scent was intoxicating and he inhaled deeply, holding her tightly. She was quite a bit shorter than he remembered, or perhaps he’d grown. She was nearly a head shorter than him, and he easily lifted her and twirled her around. She was laughing and, surprisingly, crying, just like he was.
He set her down and leaned back, grinning. “You haven’t changed a bit! Well, maybe just got more beautiful,” he said foolishly, his hands still gripping her shoulders. He couldn’t seem to let go of her.
“You’ve changed a lot. You’ve grown taller, and filled out quite a bit. I like the beard too.” She grinned up at him and he noticed her eyes were nearly green. He felt her rake her nails through his beard and a pleasant shiver ran through his body. “I’ll help you unload your stuff from the truck,” she offered.
“You can leave the big stuff. I’ll just bring in my clothes and valuables and such tonight.” He reached into the back seat and pulled out a large suitcase. Margo grabbed a couple smaller bags, and Pike followed her into her apartment. Almost hypnotized, he looked at her from behind, his eyes eating her up. This was be the only time he would openly stare at her without it going to the creep zone.
Her dog, Binx he thought she’d called him, back when they were on the phone, was barking, the short brown hair on his back standing up. Margo hushed him and he went to his bed, his dark eyes watching Pike’s every move. Pike lifted an eyebrow, impressed. She’d trained him well. She led Pike through to a second bedroom and put his things down. He put the large suitcase down in a corner.
It was all feminine decor, but he didn’t mind. Her things were w
ay nicer, and her apartment was bigger and nicer than his had been back in NC. The apartment even smelled girly, some kind of spice candle thingy. He smiled softly to himself. It was her, all right.
“Come on in the living room,” she said, interrupting his perusal. He turned to follow her. “I have some pizza. I wasn’t sure if you’d have eaten or not.” She smiled, her hand indicating the couch. It had a pink zebra blanket thrown over it.
“Thanks, I’m starved.” He took a deep breath and took a few moments to take the room in. Very feminine, but also elegant. Not cluttered and disorganized. “It’s so good to see you, like the years have melted away. And I’m really glad to finally be here. My body doesn’t like sitting for eight to twelve hours a day.” He stretched. “The countryside was beautiful, though. I liked seeing that.” He laughed and took a slice of pizza. Taking a bite, he rolled his eyes back and closed them in appreciation.
“Thanks for letting me stay with you till I get on my feet. I know I only just arrived, but I want to discuss an idea I have. No pressure, but I want you to think about it seriously,” he said, taking another bite of his pizza.
“Sure, Pike, tell me what’s on your mind.” She said, sipping some green tea from an earthenware cup. She was sitting on the other end of the couch, feet tucked beneath her. She pulled the pink zebra blanket over and draped it over her lap. She was the picture of sweetness, and he had a hard time not grinning at her like a loon.
He took a deep breath and blew it out. He’d thought over his plan while driving, gone over and over it in his head. It was important that it was a good decision. Their lives would depend on it. He hoped she’d think it was a good one.
“Before I left Georgia, I was looking around at properties up here. I figure I might as well look for something that would help us survive. It’ll be a big purchase, so I want to get it right the first time,” he said, and looked at her. He tried not to fidget.
