sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
At he end again, 
thank you.
thank you.
Story To All Things There Is A Season
- Thread starter Kathy in FL
- Start date
Part Five: Where’s My Ruby Slippers? - 1
I came up here to check and I think the explosions have finally stopped for a while. This is the third time we’ve been attacked like this and I have already had as much as I want to take of it. Nydia is finally asleep and I’m going to let her be; I’m going to sit up here for a while longer and try to pull myself together. I’ve made a circuit of the house and not much new has been damaged thank God but I’m still rattled. I’ve left the trap door open so I’ll hear Nydia if she wakes. I just need to escape the claustrophobia and rank smell of fear for a while. And going back down that ladder is beyond my back for now as well. It feels like I have a bowling ball wedged between my hip bones.
I would have written before now … should have written this down before now … but all of my energy has been focused on completing my plans and just making it hour by hour without my fear choking the life from me. The last time I wrote it helped me to gain some perspective and get my thoughts in order. This time I hope to conquer my fear and find a path forward. Maybe I should have taken the chance and gotten out while I could, but I still don’t know how I would have made it there with the dangers to be found on the road. A very pregnant woman all alone with only a small girl child? God protect me from ever even having to imagine what our fate could have been.
Within a week of my last entry I found out that I really was an innocent when it came to war, was being the operative word here. Reading about it in textbooks or seeing old movie reels doesn’t begin to touch the reality of experiencing it firsthand. After everything we have gone through I thought I was hardened, prepared. I was wrong. How many more times am I going to be faced with my newest level of naiveté? You always think “this is as bad as it gets.” Wrong. Don’t fool yourself, it can always get worse.
A low-slung boat, the kind that used to run drugs between Florida and the islands, was able to avoid detection and sneak into the Port of Tampa. Witnesses say that by the time it was identified it was too late; it ran full speed into the fuel depot. It wouldn’t have done near as much damage as it did except that it had been loaded with a large quantity of high explosives and that in turn set off a chain reaction with some additional sabotage on shore.
Radio broadcasts said that the terrorist blew himself up and that his co-conspirators were quickly captured. I don’t know whether to believe that or not. The last time I saw Greg was right after the port explosion and he reminded me of something my dad used to say, “Believe none of what you hear and only half of what you see.” A veritable feast of propaganda is offered up every day on the two remaining public radio stations. I’m told it was on billboards, carried by FVB members on placards, and on leaflets passed out with ration books … not that we have any of that going on around here these days. It’s all feel-good-about-this-administration type stuff and that the FVB are your friends and just believe in us and we’ll keep you safe and your way of life on the upswing. You don’t see the military very often; I’ve probably seen them as much as anyone left around here. You still see busloads of the FVB troops in their strange blue overalls and recently the rumors about UN troops operating on US soil has been proven as well. In the beginning they were only here as “observers” but when the UN building … but I’m getting ahead of myself.
At the same time the Port of Tampa explosions were going on the same type of crew had tried to do the same thing to the waterside of MacDill AFB. But attacking a civilian port is a different animal than trying to attack an active and heavily fortified military base. A squad of Marines who were in town for a training exhibition, in cooperation with a Coast Guard LR1 and two Defender class boats, blew the semi-sub drug runner out of the water killing all on board several miles from shore. It was a wakeup call for locals and the government; or it was for a lot of people, there are probably people with their heads in the sand even now. I’ve lost what little confidence I had left in the average human’s intelligence. The loss of my innocence has left in its wake a heavy cynicism and a loss of confidence in my own species.
Overnight the country went from being on a quasi-war footing that was mostly talk and warnings couched in hyperbole to being on a real one that required a crackdown on the public and most personal freedoms. The President’s Administration rapidly lost what little popular support it had left. The NAACP and a lot of other so-called civil rights groups nearly strangled on their own screams and efforts to be heard over all the other noise. Rights? What rights? We are at war and it isn’t just talk. And it isn’t just a bunch of infighting between ideological groups that can’t get along. Threats have manifested themselves into action.
Looks like everyone wants a piece of us these days and this Administration seems to be dealing more with the President’s self-esteem issues than with the reality facing our nation. We have a president that was voted in, not by overwhelming numbers, but because people were ready for yet another change … I’ve lost count of how many that makes. Unfortunately, the change was to an administration that was a product of the good times when what you wanted was there to get. Their responses to the economic and geopolitical stresses this country faces have been naive to irresponsible and ill thought out to absolutely criminal in scope. And now we haven’t heard a peep out of them offering any solace or guidance. For all I know not a one of them even breathes anymore but I won’t ruminate on the consequences of that just yet.
Now add into that mess the personal problems of some of the members of this administration and you’ve got a catastrophe that is three-quarters in the starting gate. Or should I make that three-quarters out of the starting gate? There have been calls for over a week for some kind of response to what has been happening and nary a peep has been uttered by anyone above the Press Secretary. Even before this past week rumors were rampant … behind the scenes tantrums that bordered on the neurotic, rumors of a mistress quickly hushed up only to resurface again and again, chest pains leading to strong warnings of coronary artery disease, stories of loud family discord fueled primarily by a teenage daughter rebelling against public expectations and emotionally cold parental figures. But that stuff is what you would see in the tabloid magazines and may or may not be true. What is scary are the stories of doctors being called into the family’s quarters to administer sedatives; the doctor calls confirmed with squirreled out photos and muffled recordings of phone calls. What isn’t known is who in the family the drugs were for. There are other unsubstantiated stories of emotional problems as well.
As it stands now the President and his Administration control the civil troops but I’m not so certain that they control the military any longer. The President is the Commander-in-Chief but his competency to hold the job is a question mark. The time for questionable diplomatic efforts is at an end. War has reached our shores. No hiding behind the drapes either and that appears to be what he is doing.
It has been since Pearl Harbor, and before that the US Civil War, that an actual war has been fought on US soil. There have been things called “war” – the war on poverty, the war on drugs, the war on terror – but true war has not visited this country’s continental territory in over 150 years. It is a lot for people to wrap their heads around, even me.
I came up here to check and I think the explosions have finally stopped for a while. This is the third time we’ve been attacked like this and I have already had as much as I want to take of it. Nydia is finally asleep and I’m going to let her be; I’m going to sit up here for a while longer and try to pull myself together. I’ve made a circuit of the house and not much new has been damaged thank God but I’m still rattled. I’ve left the trap door open so I’ll hear Nydia if she wakes. I just need to escape the claustrophobia and rank smell of fear for a while. And going back down that ladder is beyond my back for now as well. It feels like I have a bowling ball wedged between my hip bones.
I would have written before now … should have written this down before now … but all of my energy has been focused on completing my plans and just making it hour by hour without my fear choking the life from me. The last time I wrote it helped me to gain some perspective and get my thoughts in order. This time I hope to conquer my fear and find a path forward. Maybe I should have taken the chance and gotten out while I could, but I still don’t know how I would have made it there with the dangers to be found on the road. A very pregnant woman all alone with only a small girl child? God protect me from ever even having to imagine what our fate could have been.
Within a week of my last entry I found out that I really was an innocent when it came to war, was being the operative word here. Reading about it in textbooks or seeing old movie reels doesn’t begin to touch the reality of experiencing it firsthand. After everything we have gone through I thought I was hardened, prepared. I was wrong. How many more times am I going to be faced with my newest level of naiveté? You always think “this is as bad as it gets.” Wrong. Don’t fool yourself, it can always get worse.
A low-slung boat, the kind that used to run drugs between Florida and the islands, was able to avoid detection and sneak into the Port of Tampa. Witnesses say that by the time it was identified it was too late; it ran full speed into the fuel depot. It wouldn’t have done near as much damage as it did except that it had been loaded with a large quantity of high explosives and that in turn set off a chain reaction with some additional sabotage on shore.
Radio broadcasts said that the terrorist blew himself up and that his co-conspirators were quickly captured. I don’t know whether to believe that or not. The last time I saw Greg was right after the port explosion and he reminded me of something my dad used to say, “Believe none of what you hear and only half of what you see.” A veritable feast of propaganda is offered up every day on the two remaining public radio stations. I’m told it was on billboards, carried by FVB members on placards, and on leaflets passed out with ration books … not that we have any of that going on around here these days. It’s all feel-good-about-this-administration type stuff and that the FVB are your friends and just believe in us and we’ll keep you safe and your way of life on the upswing. You don’t see the military very often; I’ve probably seen them as much as anyone left around here. You still see busloads of the FVB troops in their strange blue overalls and recently the rumors about UN troops operating on US soil has been proven as well. In the beginning they were only here as “observers” but when the UN building … but I’m getting ahead of myself.
At the same time the Port of Tampa explosions were going on the same type of crew had tried to do the same thing to the waterside of MacDill AFB. But attacking a civilian port is a different animal than trying to attack an active and heavily fortified military base. A squad of Marines who were in town for a training exhibition, in cooperation with a Coast Guard LR1 and two Defender class boats, blew the semi-sub drug runner out of the water killing all on board several miles from shore. It was a wakeup call for locals and the government; or it was for a lot of people, there are probably people with their heads in the sand even now. I’ve lost what little confidence I had left in the average human’s intelligence. The loss of my innocence has left in its wake a heavy cynicism and a loss of confidence in my own species.
Overnight the country went from being on a quasi-war footing that was mostly talk and warnings couched in hyperbole to being on a real one that required a crackdown on the public and most personal freedoms. The President’s Administration rapidly lost what little popular support it had left. The NAACP and a lot of other so-called civil rights groups nearly strangled on their own screams and efforts to be heard over all the other noise. Rights? What rights? We are at war and it isn’t just talk. And it isn’t just a bunch of infighting between ideological groups that can’t get along. Threats have manifested themselves into action.
Looks like everyone wants a piece of us these days and this Administration seems to be dealing more with the President’s self-esteem issues than with the reality facing our nation. We have a president that was voted in, not by overwhelming numbers, but because people were ready for yet another change … I’ve lost count of how many that makes. Unfortunately, the change was to an administration that was a product of the good times when what you wanted was there to get. Their responses to the economic and geopolitical stresses this country faces have been naive to irresponsible and ill thought out to absolutely criminal in scope. And now we haven’t heard a peep out of them offering any solace or guidance. For all I know not a one of them even breathes anymore but I won’t ruminate on the consequences of that just yet.
Now add into that mess the personal problems of some of the members of this administration and you’ve got a catastrophe that is three-quarters in the starting gate. Or should I make that three-quarters out of the starting gate? There have been calls for over a week for some kind of response to what has been happening and nary a peep has been uttered by anyone above the Press Secretary. Even before this past week rumors were rampant … behind the scenes tantrums that bordered on the neurotic, rumors of a mistress quickly hushed up only to resurface again and again, chest pains leading to strong warnings of coronary artery disease, stories of loud family discord fueled primarily by a teenage daughter rebelling against public expectations and emotionally cold parental figures. But that stuff is what you would see in the tabloid magazines and may or may not be true. What is scary are the stories of doctors being called into the family’s quarters to administer sedatives; the doctor calls confirmed with squirreled out photos and muffled recordings of phone calls. What isn’t known is who in the family the drugs were for. There are other unsubstantiated stories of emotional problems as well.
As it stands now the President and his Administration control the civil troops but I’m not so certain that they control the military any longer. The President is the Commander-in-Chief but his competency to hold the job is a question mark. The time for questionable diplomatic efforts is at an end. War has reached our shores. No hiding behind the drapes either and that appears to be what he is doing.
It has been since Pearl Harbor, and before that the US Civil War, that an actual war has been fought on US soil. There have been things called “war” – the war on poverty, the war on drugs, the war on terror – but true war has not visited this country’s continental territory in over 150 years. It is a lot for people to wrap their heads around, even me.
Part 5 - 2
And the war we are in is like no other we have ever fought. There is no one single enemy with a single cause. Our enemies fight each other as often as they try and battle us. The fact that they work at cross purposes to one another so much is probably the only reason we haven’t been eaten alive yet. All along our Southern Border, into the Gulf and for a ways up both the western and eastern coastlines we are being attacked by a coalition of Central and South American countries whose primary stated goal is uniting the Americas into one Spanish Confederation similar to the original European Union model only more politically aligned under some type of board of directors. Om the other hand their actions tell another story. Leaders are settling old grievances, taking revenge, and destabilizing and dividing rather than uniting. I don’t believe the players have the ability to share anything much less power the likes of which they are after and that will be their downfall; but they’ll do a great deal of damage until they fail.
Not every country down that way is on board with the plan. Coast Rica, Argentina, Panama, Belize and Columbia are big stand outs, but they have so many problems of their own at home that they can do little in the way to stop what is happening. Social pressures and poverty has caused Guatemala to explode into another vicious civil war. Cartels based in nearly every country down there behave more like warlords preying on locals since war has shut down their normal drug trafficking routes; army commanders shoot any soldier caught with drugs since an army high on drugs is useless.
Mexico’s stance in the war depends on who you talk to and on which day of the week. The Mexican President and his family were blown up by a drug lord so no one really knows who’s in charge down there these days. One day it will be some general, the next it will be a charismatic populist, and another it will be some anarchist that has gotten a taste for power who is trying to consolidate his position. Up is down and down is sideways; the country is a politically and socially chaotic mess.
Refugees from all points south drive through Mexico like locusts and were literally stampeding across the borders of Texas, Arizona, New Mexico, and California trying to escape the armies pouring through their own countries. The states were beginning to collapse and the President wasn’t sending any federal troops to help. Homeland Security was handicapped at the top by the political appointment trying to play both ends with wild swings that more often than not put the American citizen under a jack boot and not those who put our way of life at risk.
Too many special interest groups vied for attention never realizing that this administration’s answer to everything was procrastination so it could be blamed on someone else or be put off until it was someone else’s problem. Besides it is … was … an election year. The war is already bringing with it a suggestion that elections will be “delayed.” When asked how long the only answer offered was “for as long as it takes.”
The refugees brought with them hunger and disease, especially things like dysentery and cholera and tuberculosis and measles. There were riots when the few charities authorized and willing to serve this influx ran out of food and water. Then the illegal refugees started setting up squatters’ camps, destroying local farms and ranches in their search for food and shelter. That quickly degenerated into armed Mexican militias occupying US soil when the feds refused to take action to support local law enforcement efforts.
This Administration even tried to bring federal charges against several law enforcement departments in Texas and Arizona and even tried to have some LEOs arrested for murder for defending themselves against assassination attempts. Homeland Security threatened to charge ranchers with premeditated murder if they set up traps and shooting blinds on their property to protect their families and their livelihoods from being destroyed by the interlopers.
Then the Texas governor decided he’d had enough after a hospital had all but burned to the ground during a riot when staff tried to quarantine a Mexican National that came in with symptoms of advanced TB. The governor called in the Texas Air National Guard made up of battled hardened veterans home on leave from the Middle East. Then the Arizona governor added the Arizona National Guard. Militia groups from four other border states added their support and, using lethal force, began to push the swarm of armed refugees back across the US-Mexico border.
The Pentagon finally got fed up and did an end run around Congress. They gathered evidence that the Spanish Coalition forces were instigating much of the civilian problems and were supplying weaponry. Also, they captured spies that carried information that Fort Bliss had been targeted for a major assault and as a result, that basically militarized the southern border of the US without a directive from Congress or the President. It was an amazing thing to hear about on the radio, unprecedented in this time period. That is why I begin to wonder if the Commander-in-Chief is really in command, it really does look like the Pentagon and the state Governors did an end run around the Executive Branch of the government … and were allowed to get away with it by Congress and the Judicial branch.
But our national and international woes do not end there. In the Pacific Northwest and in Alaska there were a lot of assets absconded with by people of both Chinese and Russian connections masquerading as fishing fleets. The outflow stopped when those states took a page from the playbook of states along the southern border and allowed their militias and National Guard troops to take matters in hand. Rumors had it that off-duty or on-leave federal troops often went along on patrols to “observe” but in reality were training and leading some of the civilian teams.
The Midwest and Northeast of the country were primarily battling Islamic jihadist. The religious violence has begun to spread and encompass many enclaves of Islamic communities. Here in Tampa, Temple Terrace had a very large Islamic community, reportedly with some sleeper cells in it. Most of the community was peaceable but enough of them were not that Homeland Security stepped in, added by local law enforcement and troops from MacDill when the protests expanded and the violence increased significantly. It got bloody which has essentially turned the whole community into extremists out for revenge. Large numbers of men from the Islamic community have been rounded up and put into what amounts to internment camps; guilty until proven innocent because even if they did not personally participate in the violence they harbored and protected the people who had.
And the war we are in is like no other we have ever fought. There is no one single enemy with a single cause. Our enemies fight each other as often as they try and battle us. The fact that they work at cross purposes to one another so much is probably the only reason we haven’t been eaten alive yet. All along our Southern Border, into the Gulf and for a ways up both the western and eastern coastlines we are being attacked by a coalition of Central and South American countries whose primary stated goal is uniting the Americas into one Spanish Confederation similar to the original European Union model only more politically aligned under some type of board of directors. Om the other hand their actions tell another story. Leaders are settling old grievances, taking revenge, and destabilizing and dividing rather than uniting. I don’t believe the players have the ability to share anything much less power the likes of which they are after and that will be their downfall; but they’ll do a great deal of damage until they fail.
Not every country down that way is on board with the plan. Coast Rica, Argentina, Panama, Belize and Columbia are big stand outs, but they have so many problems of their own at home that they can do little in the way to stop what is happening. Social pressures and poverty has caused Guatemala to explode into another vicious civil war. Cartels based in nearly every country down there behave more like warlords preying on locals since war has shut down their normal drug trafficking routes; army commanders shoot any soldier caught with drugs since an army high on drugs is useless.
Mexico’s stance in the war depends on who you talk to and on which day of the week. The Mexican President and his family were blown up by a drug lord so no one really knows who’s in charge down there these days. One day it will be some general, the next it will be a charismatic populist, and another it will be some anarchist that has gotten a taste for power who is trying to consolidate his position. Up is down and down is sideways; the country is a politically and socially chaotic mess.
Refugees from all points south drive through Mexico like locusts and were literally stampeding across the borders of Texas, Arizona, New Mexico, and California trying to escape the armies pouring through their own countries. The states were beginning to collapse and the President wasn’t sending any federal troops to help. Homeland Security was handicapped at the top by the political appointment trying to play both ends with wild swings that more often than not put the American citizen under a jack boot and not those who put our way of life at risk.
Too many special interest groups vied for attention never realizing that this administration’s answer to everything was procrastination so it could be blamed on someone else or be put off until it was someone else’s problem. Besides it is … was … an election year. The war is already bringing with it a suggestion that elections will be “delayed.” When asked how long the only answer offered was “for as long as it takes.”
The refugees brought with them hunger and disease, especially things like dysentery and cholera and tuberculosis and measles. There were riots when the few charities authorized and willing to serve this influx ran out of food and water. Then the illegal refugees started setting up squatters’ camps, destroying local farms and ranches in their search for food and shelter. That quickly degenerated into armed Mexican militias occupying US soil when the feds refused to take action to support local law enforcement efforts.
This Administration even tried to bring federal charges against several law enforcement departments in Texas and Arizona and even tried to have some LEOs arrested for murder for defending themselves against assassination attempts. Homeland Security threatened to charge ranchers with premeditated murder if they set up traps and shooting blinds on their property to protect their families and their livelihoods from being destroyed by the interlopers.
Then the Texas governor decided he’d had enough after a hospital had all but burned to the ground during a riot when staff tried to quarantine a Mexican National that came in with symptoms of advanced TB. The governor called in the Texas Air National Guard made up of battled hardened veterans home on leave from the Middle East. Then the Arizona governor added the Arizona National Guard. Militia groups from four other border states added their support and, using lethal force, began to push the swarm of armed refugees back across the US-Mexico border.
The Pentagon finally got fed up and did an end run around Congress. They gathered evidence that the Spanish Coalition forces were instigating much of the civilian problems and were supplying weaponry. Also, they captured spies that carried information that Fort Bliss had been targeted for a major assault and as a result, that basically militarized the southern border of the US without a directive from Congress or the President. It was an amazing thing to hear about on the radio, unprecedented in this time period. That is why I begin to wonder if the Commander-in-Chief is really in command, it really does look like the Pentagon and the state Governors did an end run around the Executive Branch of the government … and were allowed to get away with it by Congress and the Judicial branch.
But our national and international woes do not end there. In the Pacific Northwest and in Alaska there were a lot of assets absconded with by people of both Chinese and Russian connections masquerading as fishing fleets. The outflow stopped when those states took a page from the playbook of states along the southern border and allowed their militias and National Guard troops to take matters in hand. Rumors had it that off-duty or on-leave federal troops often went along on patrols to “observe” but in reality were training and leading some of the civilian teams.
The Midwest and Northeast of the country were primarily battling Islamic jihadist. The religious violence has begun to spread and encompass many enclaves of Islamic communities. Here in Tampa, Temple Terrace had a very large Islamic community, reportedly with some sleeper cells in it. Most of the community was peaceable but enough of them were not that Homeland Security stepped in, added by local law enforcement and troops from MacDill when the protests expanded and the violence increased significantly. It got bloody which has essentially turned the whole community into extremists out for revenge. Large numbers of men from the Islamic community have been rounded up and put into what amounts to internment camps; guilty until proven innocent because even if they did not personally participate in the violence they harbored and protected the people who had.
Part 5 - 3
All of this didn’t happen overnight. I spent the week immediately after the port explosions inventorying and consolidating what was still in the house and garage and finalizing (or so I thought) the extension of our “hidden” space. I thought the walk-in pantry was going to add a lot of room but by the time I moved more food supplies in there it was no better than a coat closet.
I have been constantly exhausted because the new demands on my energy are on top of the ones that already existed – Nydia, water gathering, taking care of our daily needs, the gardening such as it was. I’ve gotten to the point I don’t even have time to miss Mateo except in my dreams. I could also see I was losing weight which in my condition was a bad thing. Had the baby not continued to move around I would have been even more worried than I was. I made sure to take what prenatal vitamins I had – they are all gone now which is yet another reason why the edible landscaping is so important – and I increased my fats and fluids where I could, but it has not been easy considering that we are living on bulk food storage for over 50% of our diet, most of it dried.
Nydia is growing up, losing the “baby look” and doesn’t even look like a toddler much anymore. She is my shadow and my helper. She’s already memorized the names of all the tools I use and can count to twelve consistently. I’m not sure Mateo will recognize her when … if … when he comes home. When … it has to be when; I can’t let the “if” in.
The end of that week saw me doing pretty much what I had done every night up to that point. Nydia and I had gotten up late in the morning. After making sure the house was still secure and the shutters and window coverings were still in place, I fixed a hearty brunch that would hold us until a later dinner all the while trying to make sure no odor escaped to alert anyone that we still had food and fuel to cook it with. Then I went to work on the inside chores and whatever projects I had going.
As darkness descended I got Nydia ready for bed by playing quietly with her for a short while then reading her a chapter out of some book; that night I think it was Little Women. Sometimes it was Anne of Green Gables, some nights she would pick Elsie Dinsmore. She seemed to be only able to handle the Little House on the Prairie series so long as Pa wasn’t mentioned too often. That tells me she still misses Mateo even if she can’t verbalize it.
After I tucked her in I told her I had to work for a while longer but for her it was time to go to sleep.
“Nonny, don’t go.”
“I have work to do Precious. I’ll try to not be long.”
“The dark is scary,” she whispered.
“Oh Baby Doll, you have your flashlight,” I reminded her as I pointed to the wind up flashlight I had hung on a nail beside her bed. “And you know that God is with you even if you can’t see Him. God is bigger than the boogeyman, remember?”
She hunched her shoulders and we proceeded to have the same conversation we have had nearly every third night. “Why Nonny? Why do you have to go? I don’t like it.”
“I’m not going far and I won’t be long, Sugar. Just downstairs and into the yard for a while.”
“But why Nonny?”
“Because God gave me a special commission when he put you in my care. And this baby too. I have to tend the plants to make sure we have food.”
“We have all the boxes and cans.”
“The boxes and cans won’t last forever Sweet Heart and it isn’t good for us if that is the only kind of food we have to eat. We need fresh food. And we also need water, and that doesn’t come in boxes or cans.”
She gave a short but defeated pout. “But the boogermans are out there. What if the boogermans get you?”
“I’m always careful Nydia. God watches over me too just like He watches over you … even in the dark … even when there are scary people around.”
“Why can’t I come?! I’ll help. I’ll carry the basket just like I did today.”
“Because this is the time for children to be in their beds and getting their rest so that they can grow up strong and healthy.”
Then she got a sly look on her face like she’d just thought of an argument I couldn’t beat. “But the baby isn’t in bed. The baby is a children so the baby needs to be in bed too.”
“Nydia,” I said warningly, growing weary of the repeat argument that always seemed to take the same old paths. “This isn’t going to work. You are going to stay in bed and you will go to sleep. I love you and I’m doing this for you and the baby and because it is my responsibility since I’m the grown up. It can’t be play time all of the time. Right now is my work time and it is your sleep time. The longer you argue the later I am going to be starting my work which means the longer it is going to be before I can come to bed with you.”
After lots of hugs and kisses and promises to be as quick as possible Nydia finally collapsed and went to sleep, even if it was unwillingly. She really is a good helper despite being extremely strong willed on occasion but she doesn’t just sit around all day acting like a little priss and that is something I really appreciate right now. In history I read stories of three year olds helping to build log cabins, helping to tend the garden, getting water from the creek or well, and being responsible for chores with the animals. I always had a hard time understanding how the people of long ago could do that to such young children … children who were little more than babies … but now I understand it. It is because for the family to survive they had no choice. For everyone to eat, everyone had to work. But it is a frightening commentary to realize we are returning to those days in this country.
All of this didn’t happen overnight. I spent the week immediately after the port explosions inventorying and consolidating what was still in the house and garage and finalizing (or so I thought) the extension of our “hidden” space. I thought the walk-in pantry was going to add a lot of room but by the time I moved more food supplies in there it was no better than a coat closet.
I have been constantly exhausted because the new demands on my energy are on top of the ones that already existed – Nydia, water gathering, taking care of our daily needs, the gardening such as it was. I’ve gotten to the point I don’t even have time to miss Mateo except in my dreams. I could also see I was losing weight which in my condition was a bad thing. Had the baby not continued to move around I would have been even more worried than I was. I made sure to take what prenatal vitamins I had – they are all gone now which is yet another reason why the edible landscaping is so important – and I increased my fats and fluids where I could, but it has not been easy considering that we are living on bulk food storage for over 50% of our diet, most of it dried.
Nydia is growing up, losing the “baby look” and doesn’t even look like a toddler much anymore. She is my shadow and my helper. She’s already memorized the names of all the tools I use and can count to twelve consistently. I’m not sure Mateo will recognize her when … if … when he comes home. When … it has to be when; I can’t let the “if” in.
The end of that week saw me doing pretty much what I had done every night up to that point. Nydia and I had gotten up late in the morning. After making sure the house was still secure and the shutters and window coverings were still in place, I fixed a hearty brunch that would hold us until a later dinner all the while trying to make sure no odor escaped to alert anyone that we still had food and fuel to cook it with. Then I went to work on the inside chores and whatever projects I had going.
As darkness descended I got Nydia ready for bed by playing quietly with her for a short while then reading her a chapter out of some book; that night I think it was Little Women. Sometimes it was Anne of Green Gables, some nights she would pick Elsie Dinsmore. She seemed to be only able to handle the Little House on the Prairie series so long as Pa wasn’t mentioned too often. That tells me she still misses Mateo even if she can’t verbalize it.
After I tucked her in I told her I had to work for a while longer but for her it was time to go to sleep.
“Nonny, don’t go.”
“I have work to do Precious. I’ll try to not be long.”
“The dark is scary,” she whispered.
“Oh Baby Doll, you have your flashlight,” I reminded her as I pointed to the wind up flashlight I had hung on a nail beside her bed. “And you know that God is with you even if you can’t see Him. God is bigger than the boogeyman, remember?”
She hunched her shoulders and we proceeded to have the same conversation we have had nearly every third night. “Why Nonny? Why do you have to go? I don’t like it.”
“I’m not going far and I won’t be long, Sugar. Just downstairs and into the yard for a while.”
“But why Nonny?”
“Because God gave me a special commission when he put you in my care. And this baby too. I have to tend the plants to make sure we have food.”
“We have all the boxes and cans.”
“The boxes and cans won’t last forever Sweet Heart and it isn’t good for us if that is the only kind of food we have to eat. We need fresh food. And we also need water, and that doesn’t come in boxes or cans.”
She gave a short but defeated pout. “But the boogermans are out there. What if the boogermans get you?”
“I’m always careful Nydia. God watches over me too just like He watches over you … even in the dark … even when there are scary people around.”
“Why can’t I come?! I’ll help. I’ll carry the basket just like I did today.”
“Because this is the time for children to be in their beds and getting their rest so that they can grow up strong and healthy.”
Then she got a sly look on her face like she’d just thought of an argument I couldn’t beat. “But the baby isn’t in bed. The baby is a children so the baby needs to be in bed too.”
“Nydia,” I said warningly, growing weary of the repeat argument that always seemed to take the same old paths. “This isn’t going to work. You are going to stay in bed and you will go to sleep. I love you and I’m doing this for you and the baby and because it is my responsibility since I’m the grown up. It can’t be play time all of the time. Right now is my work time and it is your sleep time. The longer you argue the later I am going to be starting my work which means the longer it is going to be before I can come to bed with you.”
After lots of hugs and kisses and promises to be as quick as possible Nydia finally collapsed and went to sleep, even if it was unwillingly. She really is a good helper despite being extremely strong willed on occasion but she doesn’t just sit around all day acting like a little priss and that is something I really appreciate right now. In history I read stories of three year olds helping to build log cabins, helping to tend the garden, getting water from the creek or well, and being responsible for chores with the animals. I always had a hard time understanding how the people of long ago could do that to such young children … children who were little more than babies … but now I understand it. It is because for the family to survive they had no choice. For everyone to eat, everyone had to work. But it is a frightening commentary to realize we are returning to those days in this country.
Part 5 - 4
Yes, I do know God is with me but I also know He expects me to use the good sense He gifted me with. I put on dark clothes, black socks, tennis shoes that I had stained dark brown with some of Mateo’s old shoe polish, tied a dark scarf over my head, and then topped the whole outfit with a dark green canvas apron with pockets that my mother used to keep for gardening. As hot as it was I turned up the collar on the shirt and made sure the long sleeves were rolled down and buttoned. The last thing I wanted to do was get eaten alive by the skeeters and other biting insects that come out at night.
Before heading outside I took another look at my list of things to do. I saw I had two water barrels that I needed to refill. That would mean several trips to the swamp’s edge so that I could strain enough water to put into the sand filter in the kitchen because I had emptied the rain barrels last night, hoping that the gray sky had presaged more rain. Unfortunately if there was rain in the clouds, it passed us by.
I also needed to bring up a few items from the barn which would mean climbing through the back window again. I grabbed my allen wrench, work gloves, and the WD40 and stuck them in my left apron pocket. In my right apron pocket I stuck the little LCP that I keep fully loaded and that had been Daddy’s along with the three extra magazines for it. The rifle was better at long distances … and each time I think about it I still feel heavy hearted for what I had to do to those men … but the LCP is much smaller, lighter, and is easier for me to carry concealed while I do my night time chores. I picked up the Tupperware container I use as a compost bucket to keep the roaches from finding the refuse, squirted WD40 on the back door hinges, unlocked all of the mechanisms and then carefully moved the blackout curtains and squeezed through as best I could. I locked the deadbolt behind me and headed first to the barn.
After I finally managed to open and then squeeze myself up and over the window sill I went straight to the compost barrels, emptied my container, and turned the barrels a few times. I have run out of planting medium so the compost is going to be essential to us being able to continue gardening with any success. About the only fertilizer that I have left is the big fifty-pound bags of citrus fertilizer that the neighbors gave to us before they left for Georgia. Bending down and being very careful so that no one could see my lighted pen, I made a note that I needed to add fertilizing the trees to my gardening calendar. It is something that Mateo had taken care of and that I had forgotten about needing to do.
After passing everything on my list out of the window it was time to get myself out of there. It was harder to climb out than it was to climb in. I wasn’t even as big then as I am now and it was like dragging another person through the window with me, which I guess it is if you think about it. I run around with bruises on my sides and high up on my stomach where I’m constantly trying to fit into places I shouldn’t be trying to fit. That night the stump I had rolled over to use as a step stool outside of the barn wobbled and caused me to land badly. My ankle wrenched, gave out, and I came down right on top of a large saw brier vine, the thorns easily penetrating my pants and ramming straight into my knee. It was everything I could do to keep from screaming in pain. God save me if labor is like that.
I detached the vine by yanking it out of my skin and then hobbled to the corner of the barn and did what any upset pregnant woman in my situation would do – I pitched a royal fit, all be it a quiet one, shed a few tears, blew my nose and then got back to work. I’m the type that prefers to pull the bandaid off quickly and get it over with. The quick sharp pain ends quickly while the slow pull seems deliberately torturous.
I gathered the supplies I had pushed out of the window and hobbled back to the house. It took quite a few trips and then I thumped myself in the head for not using the wheel barrow. At least I thought to take the dolly and use it to move the five gallon buckets back up to the house as I filled them from the swamp and poured them through the screen to get the muck out and into clean buckets. These I left on the porch with the supplies that I would bring in later.
My back was killing me and I hadn’t even started on the actual gardening yet, such as it was. The okra had bloomed like crazy in the rear flower beds but they didn’t look like tall flowers any longer now that the pods were filling out. I gathered those up first thing, careful to avoid the spines. The cowpea vines were also ready to pick. Fortunately my live-catch cages and chicken wire had discouraged whatever had been getting into the stuff that I couldn’t grow in containers and bring in at night and I was able to get nearly a half bushel of peas that I had let dry on the vine.
Then it was on to my other edible landscaping in the rest of the yard. We aren’t doing too badly if I do say so myself, at least when it comes to fruit. But that is only because I started the project well in advance of ever needing it and have some experience at it. I imagine people who just now started learning to garden have a huge learning curve to get through. Of course it would be different if Mateo was here as his appetites are as big as his personality but with it only being Nydia and I we can live on a more meat restricted diet with no consequences as long as I make sure and get protein from other sources.
There was a little bit of everything in the basket by the time I was through gathering what was ripe: two large pomegranates, a hand full of prickly pears, some lemons and Persian limes, the first fig of the season, nearly four cups of Surinam cherries, a few guava that I added to the ones already drying so they could be ground into paste, and a small pineapple that had somehow escaped whatever critter had been using my plant beds as a buffet.
The good harvest put me in a better mood and I was able to ignore the throbbing of my knee as I headed to the larger trees … where I met the enemy. Blasted raccoons. A mother and her kits had taken up residence in the mango tree and I don’t know who was more scared me or them. I squealed and yelped as I tried to step back only to have my ankle complain badly.
Yes, I do know God is with me but I also know He expects me to use the good sense He gifted me with. I put on dark clothes, black socks, tennis shoes that I had stained dark brown with some of Mateo’s old shoe polish, tied a dark scarf over my head, and then topped the whole outfit with a dark green canvas apron with pockets that my mother used to keep for gardening. As hot as it was I turned up the collar on the shirt and made sure the long sleeves were rolled down and buttoned. The last thing I wanted to do was get eaten alive by the skeeters and other biting insects that come out at night.
Before heading outside I took another look at my list of things to do. I saw I had two water barrels that I needed to refill. That would mean several trips to the swamp’s edge so that I could strain enough water to put into the sand filter in the kitchen because I had emptied the rain barrels last night, hoping that the gray sky had presaged more rain. Unfortunately if there was rain in the clouds, it passed us by.
I also needed to bring up a few items from the barn which would mean climbing through the back window again. I grabbed my allen wrench, work gloves, and the WD40 and stuck them in my left apron pocket. In my right apron pocket I stuck the little LCP that I keep fully loaded and that had been Daddy’s along with the three extra magazines for it. The rifle was better at long distances … and each time I think about it I still feel heavy hearted for what I had to do to those men … but the LCP is much smaller, lighter, and is easier for me to carry concealed while I do my night time chores. I picked up the Tupperware container I use as a compost bucket to keep the roaches from finding the refuse, squirted WD40 on the back door hinges, unlocked all of the mechanisms and then carefully moved the blackout curtains and squeezed through as best I could. I locked the deadbolt behind me and headed first to the barn.
After I finally managed to open and then squeeze myself up and over the window sill I went straight to the compost barrels, emptied my container, and turned the barrels a few times. I have run out of planting medium so the compost is going to be essential to us being able to continue gardening with any success. About the only fertilizer that I have left is the big fifty-pound bags of citrus fertilizer that the neighbors gave to us before they left for Georgia. Bending down and being very careful so that no one could see my lighted pen, I made a note that I needed to add fertilizing the trees to my gardening calendar. It is something that Mateo had taken care of and that I had forgotten about needing to do.
After passing everything on my list out of the window it was time to get myself out of there. It was harder to climb out than it was to climb in. I wasn’t even as big then as I am now and it was like dragging another person through the window with me, which I guess it is if you think about it. I run around with bruises on my sides and high up on my stomach where I’m constantly trying to fit into places I shouldn’t be trying to fit. That night the stump I had rolled over to use as a step stool outside of the barn wobbled and caused me to land badly. My ankle wrenched, gave out, and I came down right on top of a large saw brier vine, the thorns easily penetrating my pants and ramming straight into my knee. It was everything I could do to keep from screaming in pain. God save me if labor is like that.
I detached the vine by yanking it out of my skin and then hobbled to the corner of the barn and did what any upset pregnant woman in my situation would do – I pitched a royal fit, all be it a quiet one, shed a few tears, blew my nose and then got back to work. I’m the type that prefers to pull the bandaid off quickly and get it over with. The quick sharp pain ends quickly while the slow pull seems deliberately torturous.
I gathered the supplies I had pushed out of the window and hobbled back to the house. It took quite a few trips and then I thumped myself in the head for not using the wheel barrow. At least I thought to take the dolly and use it to move the five gallon buckets back up to the house as I filled them from the swamp and poured them through the screen to get the muck out and into clean buckets. These I left on the porch with the supplies that I would bring in later.
My back was killing me and I hadn’t even started on the actual gardening yet, such as it was. The okra had bloomed like crazy in the rear flower beds but they didn’t look like tall flowers any longer now that the pods were filling out. I gathered those up first thing, careful to avoid the spines. The cowpea vines were also ready to pick. Fortunately my live-catch cages and chicken wire had discouraged whatever had been getting into the stuff that I couldn’t grow in containers and bring in at night and I was able to get nearly a half bushel of peas that I had let dry on the vine.
Then it was on to my other edible landscaping in the rest of the yard. We aren’t doing too badly if I do say so myself, at least when it comes to fruit. But that is only because I started the project well in advance of ever needing it and have some experience at it. I imagine people who just now started learning to garden have a huge learning curve to get through. Of course it would be different if Mateo was here as his appetites are as big as his personality but with it only being Nydia and I we can live on a more meat restricted diet with no consequences as long as I make sure and get protein from other sources.
There was a little bit of everything in the basket by the time I was through gathering what was ripe: two large pomegranates, a hand full of prickly pears, some lemons and Persian limes, the first fig of the season, nearly four cups of Surinam cherries, a few guava that I added to the ones already drying so they could be ground into paste, and a small pineapple that had somehow escaped whatever critter had been using my plant beds as a buffet.
The good harvest put me in a better mood and I was able to ignore the throbbing of my knee as I headed to the larger trees … where I met the enemy. Blasted raccoons. A mother and her kits had taken up residence in the mango tree and I don’t know who was more scared me or them. I squealed and yelped as I tried to step back only to have my ankle complain badly.
Part 5 - 5
I was about to cry again when I all but stopped breathing. “Hush up. You want to lose ‘em? Stand still and I’ll catch ‘em. I have dibs on the female but I’ll split the kits with you. They’ll fatten up nicely and feeding them will get the wild taste out of the flesh.”
From over the fence and out of the bushes I saw a long pole that had a noose on the end of it slowly reach up into the tree. Quick as lightening they had the mother raccoon and were pulling her out of the tree and into a cage. A skinny and nimble man suddenly hopped off the top of the fence where he must have been sitting still as a panther for me not to have seen him and quick as you please he’d scooped up the four kits with what looked like a dog catcher’s net. It was the “crazy” couple from across the road.
The man silently offered me two of the kits but, gripping the LCP in my pocket I said, “Oh, I couldn’t do that. You did all of the work and caught them, they should be yours. You did call dibs.”
The female half of the couple came to the fence bars as her husband climbed back over and spoke quietly. “That’s mighty neighborly. You could have said since they were on your land they belonged to you. But really … we’ve been trying to catch her for near a week now and have chased her up and down the block. We weren’t going to trespass but after a week you hate to give up the work you put into the chase.”
Never having experienced dealing with someone that potentially deranged I was careful in my replies. “I imagine you wouldn’t. How have other people in the neighborhood been handling it?”
The man just snorted and grunted as he tied the kits in a poke sack. His wife was obviously the talker of the pair. “Ain’t too many left and those that is are more foolish than even the mister and I had given them credit for being. A few of them have done a little salvaging here and there but mostly they be sitting around waiting for someone to come rescue them. Ain’t gonna happen. My bones tell me trouble is brewing. And speaking of brewing, you ain’t far from popping are you? This ain’t your first is it?”
“Um, yes.”
“Oh. Well. It ain’t gonna be pretty but you better get it through your head that you’re gonna have it at home and probably on your lonesome since they took your man off. Unless you done took up with some of them swampers.”
“No. Absolutely … uh …”
She gave a cackle, “Aw, I was just funning with you. I’ve been watching you since you came to take care of your man’s house and then stayed when the little girl got handed to him. I knew you wasn’t like what some of the old cows around here said you was. And you ain’t got a half bad head on your shoulders either. Done better than we expected that’s for sure. Well, it was nice talking with you but we don’t have time for company much and need to be about our business.”
The man tipped his hat and they both faded into the night leaving me flabbergasted and speechless. They were worse than Greg and that was saying something. Of course all three of them have disappeared now but … there I go again, getting ahead of myself.
I did notice that any branches that hung outside of our property line had been completely stripped of fruit and that included the mango tree as well as the Asian pears, the Governor’s Plum thicket, and my papayas. I decided that it would be useless to say anything but I was going to have to be more vigilant about what was “mine.” Call me the one that is crazy but so long as they stayed out of the yard and Nydia and I weren’t starving I decided I could afford to be generous this time but not from here on out.
I carried on weeding and tending the best I could and thought about the project I was planning and how necessary it was going to be. The electricity hadn’t been on in a while and I was using the solar power to the water pump as sparingly as I could. The quieter the neighborhood became the louder the pump was going to sound when I kicked it on. But as worrisome as the water situation was that wasn’t the main thing I was concerned about at that moment.
Preserving the harvest; that was the title of one of my favorite books. I loved the picture on the cover of the copy that my mother had bought for me the Christmas I was thirteen. But I wouldn’t be using any of those recipes for a while. I still had five five-gallon buckets of white sugar in the garage plus the stuff in mylar bags out in the barn inside metal barrels but that wouldn’t last long if I had to can all of the fruit. And I couldn’t can the fruit if I didn’t have a stove to can on. With the electric off I was down to using the propane camp stove and if I had to use my propane supply to can everything with that would run out before I was through as well. Even my dehydrators were electric. However, I had run across a design in one of my dad’s old books of how to build a dehydrator right into a sunny window and I decided that was exactly what was needed and I’d be building two to start with. One would go into the spare bedroom beside the hidden bonus room and a smaller, removable one would be built for the bonus room window.
The reason why I picked those two windows was because they had that film on them that let you see out but no one else see in. Mateo had installed it trying to keep the upstairs rooms from getting so hot but it never really worked. It gave privacy and a little UV protection but that was it, the heat just kept on rolling in since the windows were sunny more often than not. Even if it took longer to dry a tray of fruit or veggies it was still better than anything else I had. My concern wasn’t that it wouldn’t work but that I would be drawing bugs into the house. I addressed that concern by keeping everything scrupulously clean, leaving out cups of borax as bug bait, and using screens from a couple of the downstairs windows, protected by the storm shutters, to box everything in with. I also used sticky traps to catch what resisted my other efforts.
I tramped up the stairs that night beyond exhausted but with a plan firmly in place. I said my prayers and I don’t even think I dreamed of how things used to be while I slept. The next day started out the same as usual but the ending of that day was another type of beginning.
It took me most of the day to make the window dehydrators and they wouldn’t pass the test for Better Homes & Gardens but I was … and am … rather proud of them. The one in the guest bedroom was first and after I slid the trays of sliced fruit in place the room slowly filled with the almost overpowering smell of a tropical fruit salad. I realized that I had to add a layer of cheesecloth under the last tray to catch all of the dripping juice or I was going to have a horrible mess. I also wound up having to hang peppermint from my herb garden to keep the ants at bay. It gives the room an odd minty-juicy smell that I haven’t decided whether I like or not.
My plan for the night was very light. I was sore and tired and the baby was being a pistol and kicked me in the bladder so hard once that I had to run for the bathroom or embarrass myself. I nearly didn’t make it in time because I was limping on the ankle, now swollen since I’d been on it more than off it when it should have been the other way around. My list included checking for any ripe fruit or veggies that needed to be harvested and to run some more buckets of water through the sand filter.
Nydia was so happy to hear that it was going to be a short night that she went to sleep before I’d finished tucking her in. Shaking my head I went about my business. The harvesting was first and went quickly since I’d taken anything close to being ripe the night before. I only caught two caterpillars and they were on vines that had already given all they had to give.
I was in the middle of bringing up the second bucket of water when I vaguely heard thunder in the distance. I took a second to smile and thank God for the coming rain … trying to show a little confidence even though in my heart I knew that it was just as possible for any storm to bypass us yet again. However my confidence grew as the thunder grew closer.
But then as I was pouring the last bucket through the screen to strain out the big particles I realized that the “thunder” had the oddest quality to it. Then there was a screaming overhead and I looked up to see what I recognized as a squadron of fighter jets flying low and directly overhead streaking in the direction of MacDill. I’d seen this before but not the planes so low. The house occasionally fell into the training flight path of whatever was going on at the air force base.
Then I heard a deeper rumble giving me a sense that whatever was making the noise was going slower than the planes that had just flown over my head. However, it seemed to come from much higher in the sky. I stepped off the porch even further and tried to see what was making the noise. Then a whistling noise and …
The explosion was so loud that I felt it before the actual shock wave reached me. I curled into a ball on instinct and then realized what I was doing and ran inside to Nydia. The explosions continued though they seemed to be occurring further away.
Nydia was screaming by the time I got to her. “Nonny! Nonny! Nonny! Nonny!” She was barely breathing between syllables. I grabbed her and down we went to the only place I could think of to retreat to, the pantry closet in the center of the house. I knew it wasn’t really safe and could in fact be a death trap all too easily. Nydia was so hysterical that I gave her some allergy medicine that knocked her out. I can’t really remember what I thought about during that time. I held Nydia and my brain seemed to freeze in the off position. I know I prayed but what I said in those prayers is completely lost to me.
The bombs fell off and on for over almost three hours. They seemed to come in waves. About what turned out to mid-way through there was a truly horrific explosion that felt like it was going to bring the house down on top of us.
It had been over an hour since the last explosion and I knew I needed to find out what had happened. The first thing I realized was that I was going to need a secondary exit out of the pantry because I was so shaky climbing out that I nearly fell twice. But climb out I did, leaving Nydia still in her drugged sleep. The house was dark upstairs except in the guest room where the morning sun filtered through the dehydrator box; the blackout curtains that I had laid across it had fallen to the floor and the fan in the room was hanging by its wires. I couldn’t fix it right then so I simply took it down and capped off the wires in case of an unexpected power surge. I tucked the LCP in my pocket and vowed that it would become my constant companion from that point forward. I’d finally learned my lesson that sometimes things happen just too fast to give you the time to go looking for protection.
Downstairs the damage was worse. The block glass window of the master bathroom had a couple of blocks that were damaged on the outside but not all the way through. The ceramic tiles on the inside of the shower on that wall had also come loose from the green board underneath. One of the master bedroom windows was also shattered and glass crunched under my feet. This was despite the metal storm shutter still in place. My best guess is that the percussion must have bowed the shutter just enough that it touched the window and the vibration went through breaking the glass.
Pictures had fallen off the wall in several places and the family room smelled strongly of soot and a fine dusting of it layered anything that was close to the fireplace. Again, there doesn’t appear to have been any structural damage to the chimney, it was just the percussion knocked stuff in the flue down causing the mess. The LCP came out of my pocket and stayed in my hand.
Stepping outside I smelled smoke and something that burnt the hair inside my nose and everything looked smoggy. There was moss, dirt, and small twigs all over the screen that surrounds the pool and lanai. The screened door was more difficult to open than it should have been, like it had shifted in its frame. I still haven’t been able to fix that. Whatever shifted it was so small that it escapes my eye and my ability to fix it.
The backyard wasn’t too bad but there was a tree down behind the barn, one that Mateo had meant to cut down because it had been dead long enough that its root system had started to decay, making it a prime material for a high wind to knock over. The explosions had done what the last tropical storm had not. It blocked the rear sliding door but it’s been a low priority for me to deal with.
A crunch of small limbs had me turning around fast enough to feel bile climbing up my throat. The man from across the street was there but his hands were empty, palms up, and held away from his body.
For the first time I heard his gravel laden voice. “Good.” He nodded his head in approval. “Learning to be smart.” Then he pointed to the acerola bush, heavy with berries that had ripened in the night. “My wife,” he said then swallowed like it was difficult to talk. “Lost some blood. Needs some sweet. Them bushes, good for Vitamin C.”
I finally noticed that there was a dark stain on his shirt. “Oh. Oh! Of … of course. Does she need …” I asked and took a step forward.
He stepped away from me and looked like he was going to run so I stopped. When I stopped he stopped but he still had the look of a buck thinking about running off into the thicket.
“No. Don’t owe no one. I’ll pay …”
“No. You … um … you cleaned the raccoons out of the mango tree for me. Let’s call it even at that.”
He gave me a look but seemed to relax. Then he nodded his head. But it wasn’t until I backed up that he came forward and bent down at the bush and pulled a couple of cupfuls off and put them in his cap.
I wasn’t going to leave him free access to the back of the house but I wasn’t sure how to strike up a conversation with the man either. He was the one that spoke next however.
“Saw this on the Ho Chi Minh. Rolling thunder.”
After a moment trying to think where I’d heard that phrase before I asked, “Carpet bombing? Are you saying that was what happened last night?”
He nodded. “Demoralization of the enemy. Damages infrastructure. Softens ‘em up. Used US41 as an aerial map. Somebody don’t like us none. Radio says MacDill got hit by bombers that came out of Mexico some place.”
I was still processing the information when with effort he stood up and turned to leave. He stopped nodded his head and then said, “Got a tree across your drive. Wires down all over but they ain’t hot. Stay quiet and out of the way as much as you can. Don’t go night creeping either. Looks like our boys took down at least one bomber. Likely to have some troop movement around here soon. Stay away from them boys. Men in war time … they ain’t gonna be in the mood to be gentleman.”
He limped off at a ground eating pace, staying in the lee of the bushes and trees as much as possible.
I gave it a minute and then cautiously followed him around to see what the front yard held. There indeed a tree across the driveway, but it was outside the gate, not inside. A tall old oak, weathered and beaten by over a hundred hurricane seasons, had had the top blown out of it by … by some type of metal … thing … landing on it. I stood there trying to figure out what it was when the man turned one last time, pointed at the mess, and said, “Part of a fuselage. Xian H-6K.”
Fuselage I understood but it wasn’t until much later, after overhearing some of the personnel from MacDill, that I realized Xian H-6K was a type of aircraft, specifically a Chinese bomber. That ripped it. The Chinese had now officially committed acts of aggression against the US, or they had sold an aircraft to a country which had.
I took the neighbor’s advice and played least in sight. That was unlike most everyone else in the area who headed to the highway to try and waylay the military in search of answers … and apparently food, fuel, and medical attention as well. No aid was given and everyone returned empty handed and disgruntled. What did they expect? This wasn’t the air show, this was war. The last thing I wanted to do was get in the way of the military personnel doing their job and sure as heck didn’t want to draw the attention of men two and three times my size walking around with automatic weapons.
I went in and checked on Nydia off and on between putting my container garden out in the sun until she finally awoke. She was fine until she remembered what had happened in the night and then it took me physically picking her up and taking her outside before she began to calm down and believe me that everything was over with … for now. We picked up fruit that had been knocked down, small branches, raked up leaves … it all went into rolling trash cans, the contents of which I would transfer to the compost barrels in the barn as soon as it was safe to do so.
Nydia refused to leave my side even if it meant traipsing back and forth in the heat and humidity. She was literally gripping my apron strings like I was going to get away from her or something. Once or twice a small patrol of military personnel drove down the road but I didn’t do anything to draw their attention. The first time it happened I even caught myself crouching down in the bushes and staying perfectly still like an animal that was trying to hide her young. The third time I must have done something that caught their notice because a young man waved. I caught Nydia waving back which made me decide it was time to turn our attention to the backyard.
After a quick snack that passed for breakfast and an early lunch we carried buckets of water until my arms felt like they were going to fall off. I worried that the swamp water would be contaminated sooner or later and I wanted to be as prepared as possible. Since there was so much noise out at the road as crews came in to clear out downed trees to get to the debris of the plane that I found out later had disintegrated in mid-air I decided to risk running the well pump. I panicked for a moment when it wouldn’t kick on but it was only the contactors where some ants had gotten up in them. A quick brush with an emery board cleaned them right up and the circuit could be made again. I filled every empty container in the house, the water bobs that had been empty for weeks and all of the extra barrels as well.
I turned the well off after I had refilled the pool (which is our bath water primarily now that I am beginning to run low of the floating chlorinators) and disconnected the solar panels and rolled them back to the house. We’d been unmolested the whole time we were in the backyard and I was beginning to feel calmer and more secure. I had just finished using a limb lopper and a handsaw to take off all the brush that I could from a particularly large limb that had blown in from a large oak in the neighbor’s yard. I was down to the main branch and was trying to roll it so I could use the ax to cut it up for firewood. A crunch on leaves and small twigs was the only warning I got.
I was about to cry again when I all but stopped breathing. “Hush up. You want to lose ‘em? Stand still and I’ll catch ‘em. I have dibs on the female but I’ll split the kits with you. They’ll fatten up nicely and feeding them will get the wild taste out of the flesh.”
From over the fence and out of the bushes I saw a long pole that had a noose on the end of it slowly reach up into the tree. Quick as lightening they had the mother raccoon and were pulling her out of the tree and into a cage. A skinny and nimble man suddenly hopped off the top of the fence where he must have been sitting still as a panther for me not to have seen him and quick as you please he’d scooped up the four kits with what looked like a dog catcher’s net. It was the “crazy” couple from across the road.
The man silently offered me two of the kits but, gripping the LCP in my pocket I said, “Oh, I couldn’t do that. You did all of the work and caught them, they should be yours. You did call dibs.”
The female half of the couple came to the fence bars as her husband climbed back over and spoke quietly. “That’s mighty neighborly. You could have said since they were on your land they belonged to you. But really … we’ve been trying to catch her for near a week now and have chased her up and down the block. We weren’t going to trespass but after a week you hate to give up the work you put into the chase.”
Never having experienced dealing with someone that potentially deranged I was careful in my replies. “I imagine you wouldn’t. How have other people in the neighborhood been handling it?”
The man just snorted and grunted as he tied the kits in a poke sack. His wife was obviously the talker of the pair. “Ain’t too many left and those that is are more foolish than even the mister and I had given them credit for being. A few of them have done a little salvaging here and there but mostly they be sitting around waiting for someone to come rescue them. Ain’t gonna happen. My bones tell me trouble is brewing. And speaking of brewing, you ain’t far from popping are you? This ain’t your first is it?”
“Um, yes.”
“Oh. Well. It ain’t gonna be pretty but you better get it through your head that you’re gonna have it at home and probably on your lonesome since they took your man off. Unless you done took up with some of them swampers.”
“No. Absolutely … uh …”
She gave a cackle, “Aw, I was just funning with you. I’ve been watching you since you came to take care of your man’s house and then stayed when the little girl got handed to him. I knew you wasn’t like what some of the old cows around here said you was. And you ain’t got a half bad head on your shoulders either. Done better than we expected that’s for sure. Well, it was nice talking with you but we don’t have time for company much and need to be about our business.”
The man tipped his hat and they both faded into the night leaving me flabbergasted and speechless. They were worse than Greg and that was saying something. Of course all three of them have disappeared now but … there I go again, getting ahead of myself.
I did notice that any branches that hung outside of our property line had been completely stripped of fruit and that included the mango tree as well as the Asian pears, the Governor’s Plum thicket, and my papayas. I decided that it would be useless to say anything but I was going to have to be more vigilant about what was “mine.” Call me the one that is crazy but so long as they stayed out of the yard and Nydia and I weren’t starving I decided I could afford to be generous this time but not from here on out.
I carried on weeding and tending the best I could and thought about the project I was planning and how necessary it was going to be. The electricity hadn’t been on in a while and I was using the solar power to the water pump as sparingly as I could. The quieter the neighborhood became the louder the pump was going to sound when I kicked it on. But as worrisome as the water situation was that wasn’t the main thing I was concerned about at that moment.
Preserving the harvest; that was the title of one of my favorite books. I loved the picture on the cover of the copy that my mother had bought for me the Christmas I was thirteen. But I wouldn’t be using any of those recipes for a while. I still had five five-gallon buckets of white sugar in the garage plus the stuff in mylar bags out in the barn inside metal barrels but that wouldn’t last long if I had to can all of the fruit. And I couldn’t can the fruit if I didn’t have a stove to can on. With the electric off I was down to using the propane camp stove and if I had to use my propane supply to can everything with that would run out before I was through as well. Even my dehydrators were electric. However, I had run across a design in one of my dad’s old books of how to build a dehydrator right into a sunny window and I decided that was exactly what was needed and I’d be building two to start with. One would go into the spare bedroom beside the hidden bonus room and a smaller, removable one would be built for the bonus room window.
The reason why I picked those two windows was because they had that film on them that let you see out but no one else see in. Mateo had installed it trying to keep the upstairs rooms from getting so hot but it never really worked. It gave privacy and a little UV protection but that was it, the heat just kept on rolling in since the windows were sunny more often than not. Even if it took longer to dry a tray of fruit or veggies it was still better than anything else I had. My concern wasn’t that it wouldn’t work but that I would be drawing bugs into the house. I addressed that concern by keeping everything scrupulously clean, leaving out cups of borax as bug bait, and using screens from a couple of the downstairs windows, protected by the storm shutters, to box everything in with. I also used sticky traps to catch what resisted my other efforts.
I tramped up the stairs that night beyond exhausted but with a plan firmly in place. I said my prayers and I don’t even think I dreamed of how things used to be while I slept. The next day started out the same as usual but the ending of that day was another type of beginning.
It took me most of the day to make the window dehydrators and they wouldn’t pass the test for Better Homes & Gardens but I was … and am … rather proud of them. The one in the guest bedroom was first and after I slid the trays of sliced fruit in place the room slowly filled with the almost overpowering smell of a tropical fruit salad. I realized that I had to add a layer of cheesecloth under the last tray to catch all of the dripping juice or I was going to have a horrible mess. I also wound up having to hang peppermint from my herb garden to keep the ants at bay. It gives the room an odd minty-juicy smell that I haven’t decided whether I like or not.
My plan for the night was very light. I was sore and tired and the baby was being a pistol and kicked me in the bladder so hard once that I had to run for the bathroom or embarrass myself. I nearly didn’t make it in time because I was limping on the ankle, now swollen since I’d been on it more than off it when it should have been the other way around. My list included checking for any ripe fruit or veggies that needed to be harvested and to run some more buckets of water through the sand filter.
Nydia was so happy to hear that it was going to be a short night that she went to sleep before I’d finished tucking her in. Shaking my head I went about my business. The harvesting was first and went quickly since I’d taken anything close to being ripe the night before. I only caught two caterpillars and they were on vines that had already given all they had to give.
I was in the middle of bringing up the second bucket of water when I vaguely heard thunder in the distance. I took a second to smile and thank God for the coming rain … trying to show a little confidence even though in my heart I knew that it was just as possible for any storm to bypass us yet again. However my confidence grew as the thunder grew closer.
But then as I was pouring the last bucket through the screen to strain out the big particles I realized that the “thunder” had the oddest quality to it. Then there was a screaming overhead and I looked up to see what I recognized as a squadron of fighter jets flying low and directly overhead streaking in the direction of MacDill. I’d seen this before but not the planes so low. The house occasionally fell into the training flight path of whatever was going on at the air force base.
Then I heard a deeper rumble giving me a sense that whatever was making the noise was going slower than the planes that had just flown over my head. However, it seemed to come from much higher in the sky. I stepped off the porch even further and tried to see what was making the noise. Then a whistling noise and …
The explosion was so loud that I felt it before the actual shock wave reached me. I curled into a ball on instinct and then realized what I was doing and ran inside to Nydia. The explosions continued though they seemed to be occurring further away.
Nydia was screaming by the time I got to her. “Nonny! Nonny! Nonny! Nonny!” She was barely breathing between syllables. I grabbed her and down we went to the only place I could think of to retreat to, the pantry closet in the center of the house. I knew it wasn’t really safe and could in fact be a death trap all too easily. Nydia was so hysterical that I gave her some allergy medicine that knocked her out. I can’t really remember what I thought about during that time. I held Nydia and my brain seemed to freeze in the off position. I know I prayed but what I said in those prayers is completely lost to me.
The bombs fell off and on for over almost three hours. They seemed to come in waves. About what turned out to mid-way through there was a truly horrific explosion that felt like it was going to bring the house down on top of us.
It had been over an hour since the last explosion and I knew I needed to find out what had happened. The first thing I realized was that I was going to need a secondary exit out of the pantry because I was so shaky climbing out that I nearly fell twice. But climb out I did, leaving Nydia still in her drugged sleep. The house was dark upstairs except in the guest room where the morning sun filtered through the dehydrator box; the blackout curtains that I had laid across it had fallen to the floor and the fan in the room was hanging by its wires. I couldn’t fix it right then so I simply took it down and capped off the wires in case of an unexpected power surge. I tucked the LCP in my pocket and vowed that it would become my constant companion from that point forward. I’d finally learned my lesson that sometimes things happen just too fast to give you the time to go looking for protection.
Downstairs the damage was worse. The block glass window of the master bathroom had a couple of blocks that were damaged on the outside but not all the way through. The ceramic tiles on the inside of the shower on that wall had also come loose from the green board underneath. One of the master bedroom windows was also shattered and glass crunched under my feet. This was despite the metal storm shutter still in place. My best guess is that the percussion must have bowed the shutter just enough that it touched the window and the vibration went through breaking the glass.
Pictures had fallen off the wall in several places and the family room smelled strongly of soot and a fine dusting of it layered anything that was close to the fireplace. Again, there doesn’t appear to have been any structural damage to the chimney, it was just the percussion knocked stuff in the flue down causing the mess. The LCP came out of my pocket and stayed in my hand.
Stepping outside I smelled smoke and something that burnt the hair inside my nose and everything looked smoggy. There was moss, dirt, and small twigs all over the screen that surrounds the pool and lanai. The screened door was more difficult to open than it should have been, like it had shifted in its frame. I still haven’t been able to fix that. Whatever shifted it was so small that it escapes my eye and my ability to fix it.
The backyard wasn’t too bad but there was a tree down behind the barn, one that Mateo had meant to cut down because it had been dead long enough that its root system had started to decay, making it a prime material for a high wind to knock over. The explosions had done what the last tropical storm had not. It blocked the rear sliding door but it’s been a low priority for me to deal with.
A crunch of small limbs had me turning around fast enough to feel bile climbing up my throat. The man from across the street was there but his hands were empty, palms up, and held away from his body.
For the first time I heard his gravel laden voice. “Good.” He nodded his head in approval. “Learning to be smart.” Then he pointed to the acerola bush, heavy with berries that had ripened in the night. “My wife,” he said then swallowed like it was difficult to talk. “Lost some blood. Needs some sweet. Them bushes, good for Vitamin C.”
I finally noticed that there was a dark stain on his shirt. “Oh. Oh! Of … of course. Does she need …” I asked and took a step forward.
He stepped away from me and looked like he was going to run so I stopped. When I stopped he stopped but he still had the look of a buck thinking about running off into the thicket.
“No. Don’t owe no one. I’ll pay …”
“No. You … um … you cleaned the raccoons out of the mango tree for me. Let’s call it even at that.”
He gave me a look but seemed to relax. Then he nodded his head. But it wasn’t until I backed up that he came forward and bent down at the bush and pulled a couple of cupfuls off and put them in his cap.
I wasn’t going to leave him free access to the back of the house but I wasn’t sure how to strike up a conversation with the man either. He was the one that spoke next however.
“Saw this on the Ho Chi Minh. Rolling thunder.”
After a moment trying to think where I’d heard that phrase before I asked, “Carpet bombing? Are you saying that was what happened last night?”
He nodded. “Demoralization of the enemy. Damages infrastructure. Softens ‘em up. Used US41 as an aerial map. Somebody don’t like us none. Radio says MacDill got hit by bombers that came out of Mexico some place.”
I was still processing the information when with effort he stood up and turned to leave. He stopped nodded his head and then said, “Got a tree across your drive. Wires down all over but they ain’t hot. Stay quiet and out of the way as much as you can. Don’t go night creeping either. Looks like our boys took down at least one bomber. Likely to have some troop movement around here soon. Stay away from them boys. Men in war time … they ain’t gonna be in the mood to be gentleman.”
He limped off at a ground eating pace, staying in the lee of the bushes and trees as much as possible.
I gave it a minute and then cautiously followed him around to see what the front yard held. There indeed a tree across the driveway, but it was outside the gate, not inside. A tall old oak, weathered and beaten by over a hundred hurricane seasons, had had the top blown out of it by … by some type of metal … thing … landing on it. I stood there trying to figure out what it was when the man turned one last time, pointed at the mess, and said, “Part of a fuselage. Xian H-6K.”
Fuselage I understood but it wasn’t until much later, after overhearing some of the personnel from MacDill, that I realized Xian H-6K was a type of aircraft, specifically a Chinese bomber. That ripped it. The Chinese had now officially committed acts of aggression against the US, or they had sold an aircraft to a country which had.
I took the neighbor’s advice and played least in sight. That was unlike most everyone else in the area who headed to the highway to try and waylay the military in search of answers … and apparently food, fuel, and medical attention as well. No aid was given and everyone returned empty handed and disgruntled. What did they expect? This wasn’t the air show, this was war. The last thing I wanted to do was get in the way of the military personnel doing their job and sure as heck didn’t want to draw the attention of men two and three times my size walking around with automatic weapons.
I went in and checked on Nydia off and on between putting my container garden out in the sun until she finally awoke. She was fine until she remembered what had happened in the night and then it took me physically picking her up and taking her outside before she began to calm down and believe me that everything was over with … for now. We picked up fruit that had been knocked down, small branches, raked up leaves … it all went into rolling trash cans, the contents of which I would transfer to the compost barrels in the barn as soon as it was safe to do so.
Nydia refused to leave my side even if it meant traipsing back and forth in the heat and humidity. She was literally gripping my apron strings like I was going to get away from her or something. Once or twice a small patrol of military personnel drove down the road but I didn’t do anything to draw their attention. The first time it happened I even caught myself crouching down in the bushes and staying perfectly still like an animal that was trying to hide her young. The third time I must have done something that caught their notice because a young man waved. I caught Nydia waving back which made me decide it was time to turn our attention to the backyard.
After a quick snack that passed for breakfast and an early lunch we carried buckets of water until my arms felt like they were going to fall off. I worried that the swamp water would be contaminated sooner or later and I wanted to be as prepared as possible. Since there was so much noise out at the road as crews came in to clear out downed trees to get to the debris of the plane that I found out later had disintegrated in mid-air I decided to risk running the well pump. I panicked for a moment when it wouldn’t kick on but it was only the contactors where some ants had gotten up in them. A quick brush with an emery board cleaned them right up and the circuit could be made again. I filled every empty container in the house, the water bobs that had been empty for weeks and all of the extra barrels as well.
I turned the well off after I had refilled the pool (which is our bath water primarily now that I am beginning to run low of the floating chlorinators) and disconnected the solar panels and rolled them back to the house. We’d been unmolested the whole time we were in the backyard and I was beginning to feel calmer and more secure. I had just finished using a limb lopper and a handsaw to take off all the brush that I could from a particularly large limb that had blown in from a large oak in the neighbor’s yard. I was down to the main branch and was trying to roll it so I could use the ax to cut it up for firewood. A crunch on leaves and small twigs was the only warning I got.
Part 5 - 6
“Ma’am wait, let me do … whoa, you’re really big!”
I turned sharply trying to grab for the ax at the same time while pulling Nydia behind me. She gave a loud squeak and came so willingly she nearly took us both to the ground. The owner of the voice jumped nearly as much as I did when I picked up the ax and he took two good sized steps backwards. Standing there trying to put his eyes back in his head was a young man that looked barely old enough to need to shave more than a couple of times a month. I started backing towards the house when he said, “Uh, wait, it’s … it’s OK. Totally. Uh. Let me get Sgt. Tag. She’ll know what to do.”
Then an amused female voice coming around the side of the house said, “Decker, what have I said about using my name in vain after you’ve gone off by yourself?”
The young man named Decker jumped even worse than he had when I’d picked up the ax and in a voice that cracked a couple of octaves before it settled down he said, “But Sarge, I’m scaring her … and the little girl too. I just wanted …”
“Yes Decker, you’re one bad dude and all the girlies run screaming,” she responded with amused resignation. “If you wouldn’t insist on trying to play Prince Charming every time I turn around you wouldn’t have these problems.” She laughed again as the young man turned painfully red in embarrassment. Then in a voice even my dad would have envied she called out, “Traina! Fontaine! Back here!” When the two men in question came … and at a run … she continued, “ Help Decker deal with that and then get back to the one by the gate.” Turning to me she asked, “Ma’am, are you in need of a medic?”
Rather blown away by this woman I still managed to say, “No thank you. We’re fine.”
“You’re sure? Capt. Masters is eager for something to do.”
Not quite sure what to make of the offer I told her, “The people down the road could probably use his attention.”
In a voice heavy with sarcasm she replied, “Oh, he’s spent the morning down there. What’s wrong with them is beyond even the Captain’s ability to fix.”
Obviously Sgt. “Tag” had a low opinion of the people from the subdivision and wasn’t afraid to show it. The limb was dealt with in minutes once the men had started the chainsaws they were carrying. After the noise was over with and the wood stacked, all three men went back to the front giving me a polite tip of their heads as they passed.
“That tree top is in the way of the crane that will be brought in shortly. After the wood is cleared the big equipment will come in. We’ll try not to damage your gate but there are no guarantees.”
I nodded my head in understanding.
“Look, you don’t have to answer. This isn’t an interrogation but … have you got someone? Family? Friend?” she asked pointing to my belly. “We know the FVB has already been through here.”
Unwillingly I answered, “We’ll be OK.”
“I’ll take that as a no then.” When I didn’t respond she sighed and continued, “I’ve been authorized to disseminate some care packages. If you won’t take anything for yourself at least let me leave you a few for your little girl. They have c-a-n-d-y in them.”
The fact that she spelled “candy” rather than say it out loud surprised me. She must have read it on my face because she barked a laugh and said, “Mine might all be teens now but I remember what it was like. I also remember what it was like to be as far along as you look. Independence is one thing, but take my advice and don’t turn this down. Help is going to come few and far between times from here on out, especially the kind that doesn’t come with strings attached. Take what I’m able to offer and let the Captain have a look at you. It could make a difference.”
Long story short I swallowed my pride long enough to be open to an unexpected blessing. In the words of Capt. Masters, “You are in better shape than you should be considering the circumstances.” Then I was encouraged to get adequate rest, adequate calories of healthy food, and to give up the heavy lifting. Good advice and well-meant but hard for me to apply in the days that followed.
I hope the soft-hearted Private Decker has someone like Sgt. Tag … I found out Tag is short for Taglione …for the duration of this war, if not he is going to be puppy food before this is all over with. He spent his breaks cutting wood from the blown out tree top into chunks small enough for me to use in the charcoal grill that he thought I used to cook on. No one really razed him about it, at least not within my hearing, but I did see some of the men give each other good natured eye rolls when he’d pop up and run a barrow full back to a pile he started near the back corner of the house. He even built a lean-to out of palm fronds and some old kite string he dug out of the tree branches.
I did accept the care packages and they’ve been a real bonus to our pantry stock. In addition to the “c-a-n-d-y” there were little squeeze packets of peanut butter and honey, individually wrapped crackers, tuna with packets of mayo and relish, drink packets for water like lemonade and Tang, boxes of raisins, spreadable cheese, and sundry other “energy food” that could be eaten without benefit of cooking. They also gave me a case of shelf stable milk that came in juice box size containers.
I tried to give Sgt. Tag and Pvt. Decker a couple of mangoes but they both said it was against regulations. I guess it is to prevent bribery but it goes against the grain to accept something for nothing. Maybe that is one of the lessons I’m supposed to be learning through all of this, that there are times in life when you must be able to accept the help of strangers.
Mostly I’m just learning how vulnerable I am and it is an uncomfortable realization. There was a repeat of the “carpet bombing” a week after the first one. I had to guess but believe they were using Dale Mabry Hwy the same way they had used US41. It wasn’t quite so close as the first one but no less traumatizing since a lot of people had convinced themselves that it could only have been a one off event. It was after the second bombing that the PSAs starting being broadcast on the radio. It was almost three days straight of nothing but lessons on how to survive: how to treat water, how to recognize edible wild plants, how to build a shelter, how to determine whether a building was safe to enter, how to find water when there didn’t appear to be any, how to take care of the sick and injured or dying without the benefit of any medical training, etc.
Then on the fourth day the message took an ominous turn that had me sitting down at the kitchen table and just staring at the radio. There was a call for a general evacuation of Tampa. If people had someone they could go to out of the area that was not living in another major metropolitan area they were being encouraged to make the trip. And later that same day came a notice that for people with proof they had family to take them in but no way to get there, a bus service was being set up … seats to be offered by lottery.
I knew right then that someone knew something that I didn’t. The only thing I could think of was nuclear or biological threats. For a while I tried to think about how to get to Bea’s family but then I realized I could get stuck on the road between here and there and be much worse off than if I tried to make a stand of it here. Certainly the horror of the road wouldn’t be made any less so if I was to go into labor with no roof over my head. And I had no idea how much food Bea’s family had or even if they were still in a position to take us in.
“Ma’am wait, let me do … whoa, you’re really big!”
I turned sharply trying to grab for the ax at the same time while pulling Nydia behind me. She gave a loud squeak and came so willingly she nearly took us both to the ground. The owner of the voice jumped nearly as much as I did when I picked up the ax and he took two good sized steps backwards. Standing there trying to put his eyes back in his head was a young man that looked barely old enough to need to shave more than a couple of times a month. I started backing towards the house when he said, “Uh, wait, it’s … it’s OK. Totally. Uh. Let me get Sgt. Tag. She’ll know what to do.”
Then an amused female voice coming around the side of the house said, “Decker, what have I said about using my name in vain after you’ve gone off by yourself?”
The young man named Decker jumped even worse than he had when I’d picked up the ax and in a voice that cracked a couple of octaves before it settled down he said, “But Sarge, I’m scaring her … and the little girl too. I just wanted …”
“Yes Decker, you’re one bad dude and all the girlies run screaming,” she responded with amused resignation. “If you wouldn’t insist on trying to play Prince Charming every time I turn around you wouldn’t have these problems.” She laughed again as the young man turned painfully red in embarrassment. Then in a voice even my dad would have envied she called out, “Traina! Fontaine! Back here!” When the two men in question came … and at a run … she continued, “ Help Decker deal with that and then get back to the one by the gate.” Turning to me she asked, “Ma’am, are you in need of a medic?”
Rather blown away by this woman I still managed to say, “No thank you. We’re fine.”
“You’re sure? Capt. Masters is eager for something to do.”
Not quite sure what to make of the offer I told her, “The people down the road could probably use his attention.”
In a voice heavy with sarcasm she replied, “Oh, he’s spent the morning down there. What’s wrong with them is beyond even the Captain’s ability to fix.”
Obviously Sgt. “Tag” had a low opinion of the people from the subdivision and wasn’t afraid to show it. The limb was dealt with in minutes once the men had started the chainsaws they were carrying. After the noise was over with and the wood stacked, all three men went back to the front giving me a polite tip of their heads as they passed.
“That tree top is in the way of the crane that will be brought in shortly. After the wood is cleared the big equipment will come in. We’ll try not to damage your gate but there are no guarantees.”
I nodded my head in understanding.
“Look, you don’t have to answer. This isn’t an interrogation but … have you got someone? Family? Friend?” she asked pointing to my belly. “We know the FVB has already been through here.”
Unwillingly I answered, “We’ll be OK.”
“I’ll take that as a no then.” When I didn’t respond she sighed and continued, “I’ve been authorized to disseminate some care packages. If you won’t take anything for yourself at least let me leave you a few for your little girl. They have c-a-n-d-y in them.”
The fact that she spelled “candy” rather than say it out loud surprised me. She must have read it on my face because she barked a laugh and said, “Mine might all be teens now but I remember what it was like. I also remember what it was like to be as far along as you look. Independence is one thing, but take my advice and don’t turn this down. Help is going to come few and far between times from here on out, especially the kind that doesn’t come with strings attached. Take what I’m able to offer and let the Captain have a look at you. It could make a difference.”
Long story short I swallowed my pride long enough to be open to an unexpected blessing. In the words of Capt. Masters, “You are in better shape than you should be considering the circumstances.” Then I was encouraged to get adequate rest, adequate calories of healthy food, and to give up the heavy lifting. Good advice and well-meant but hard for me to apply in the days that followed.
I hope the soft-hearted Private Decker has someone like Sgt. Tag … I found out Tag is short for Taglione …for the duration of this war, if not he is going to be puppy food before this is all over with. He spent his breaks cutting wood from the blown out tree top into chunks small enough for me to use in the charcoal grill that he thought I used to cook on. No one really razed him about it, at least not within my hearing, but I did see some of the men give each other good natured eye rolls when he’d pop up and run a barrow full back to a pile he started near the back corner of the house. He even built a lean-to out of palm fronds and some old kite string he dug out of the tree branches.
I did accept the care packages and they’ve been a real bonus to our pantry stock. In addition to the “c-a-n-d-y” there were little squeeze packets of peanut butter and honey, individually wrapped crackers, tuna with packets of mayo and relish, drink packets for water like lemonade and Tang, boxes of raisins, spreadable cheese, and sundry other “energy food” that could be eaten without benefit of cooking. They also gave me a case of shelf stable milk that came in juice box size containers.
I tried to give Sgt. Tag and Pvt. Decker a couple of mangoes but they both said it was against regulations. I guess it is to prevent bribery but it goes against the grain to accept something for nothing. Maybe that is one of the lessons I’m supposed to be learning through all of this, that there are times in life when you must be able to accept the help of strangers.
Mostly I’m just learning how vulnerable I am and it is an uncomfortable realization. There was a repeat of the “carpet bombing” a week after the first one. I had to guess but believe they were using Dale Mabry Hwy the same way they had used US41. It wasn’t quite so close as the first one but no less traumatizing since a lot of people had convinced themselves that it could only have been a one off event. It was after the second bombing that the PSAs starting being broadcast on the radio. It was almost three days straight of nothing but lessons on how to survive: how to treat water, how to recognize edible wild plants, how to build a shelter, how to determine whether a building was safe to enter, how to find water when there didn’t appear to be any, how to take care of the sick and injured or dying without the benefit of any medical training, etc.
Then on the fourth day the message took an ominous turn that had me sitting down at the kitchen table and just staring at the radio. There was a call for a general evacuation of Tampa. If people had someone they could go to out of the area that was not living in another major metropolitan area they were being encouraged to make the trip. And later that same day came a notice that for people with proof they had family to take them in but no way to get there, a bus service was being set up … seats to be offered by lottery.
I knew right then that someone knew something that I didn’t. The only thing I could think of was nuclear or biological threats. For a while I tried to think about how to get to Bea’s family but then I realized I could get stuck on the road between here and there and be much worse off than if I tried to make a stand of it here. Certainly the horror of the road wouldn’t be made any less so if I was to go into labor with no roof over my head. And I had no idea how much food Bea’s family had or even if they were still in a position to take us in.
Part 5 - 7
The decision was gut-wrenching but I decided to stick it out here. Not knowing what the threat was I had to prepare the best way I could. There wasn’t much lumber left in the barn and I didn’t want to destroy the inside of the house because they wouldn’t make our protection any better and would actually make our living environment worse. I said to heck with what people would think and I went salvaging at the two abandoned houses of our neighbors.
Most of the interior doors at both houses were intact and I was lucky they were solid core doors as well from when they had been in fashion a few years back. I popped them out of their hinges as quick as I could. I could strap five doors at a time to the dolly and brought them back to the patio, door knobs and all. Between the two houses I wound up with a few over thirty doors. Not all of them were the same width but that actually proved helpful.
Next I swiped the hot water tanks. That was a trip. I had to wait until it was dark before I could get them home because I couldn’t lift them over the fence. Nydia was exhausted but refused to leave me so I decided to call it a night after bringing in my garden containers, filling several five gallon buckets with water, and hauling everything inside.
I got Nydia to sleep pretty quickly that night by telling her I wasn’t going outside. But I didn’t just go to bed either. I knew that I was going to have to expand our hiding space on the ground floor and there wasn’t going to be an easy or pretty way to do it. I hated to do it but after thinking about it all day I was going to have to seal off the master bathroom and walk in closets since they were adjacent to the pantry and then somehow cut a hole through the pantry wall to access the area. Instead of going directly into the bathroom I decided to go through the walk in closet that Nydia used to use as her sleeping area. This would save me from compromising any of the pipes in the bathroom and from having to cut through the concrete board that the walls in there were made of.
I spent most of the rest of the night taking measurements and drawing on the walls in chalk outlining what I wanted to do. I was smart enough to hook the recharger for the power drill into the inverter before collapsing. I fell into a dreamless sleep only to wake up to one of those emergency broadcast signals on the radio. I nearly wet myself trying to get up and grab Nydia before I heard, “Had this been an actual emergency …” I nearly threw the cursed radio out of the window before laying my head down and having a cry.
That day was spent sealing the doors into the bathroom and the walk in closet. Before screwing them into their doorframes I moved all of the doors and the two hot water tanks into the closet as well as a bucket full of self-taping nails. If I hadn’t remembered to charge the battery packs I don’t know how I would have managed it in the state I was in. It was hot and close as well as dark.
After screwing the two doors shut I took the doorknobs off moved furniture in front of them so that they weren’t obvious. The dresser and mirror completely covered one of the doors and a bookcase from the family room was used to cover the other one. Then I went upstairs and climbed down into the pantry and the hard work really started.
During a short break where I fed Nydia I counted off what I had accomplished thus far and determined that making a plan is a whole lot easier than executing it, especially when you are on your own. The only comment of interest came from Nydia. “Will Poppy get mad?” I told her no since we were doing it to be safe and that seemed to be that. Honestly I was surprised at her question because she rarely will bring up the subject of Mateo on her own.
On all the walls except those in the bathroom I hung the doors like paneling. The master bathroom was the only room that had an exterior door and it was also the only place we could get any natural lighting. There was a diamond of block glass that acted as the window, though a few were cracked on the outside after the first bombing run. I did not want to give up that light until we had to so I took the hinges that I had removed from the salvaged doors, several thicknesses of what little plywood I had left, and made a “shutter” that I could lift or lower as the need arose.
I knew that the ceilings were already thicker than normal because Mateo had told me that when he moved into the house he hired someone to take care of the squeaky upstairs. They pulled the old floor up, added solid insulation and then nailed down this thick flooring that added another layer of insulation and added sound proofing. I’m still not sure that is going to be enough so I plan on more salvaging. I pray no one stops me for being a looter.
The salvaged hot water tanks have become more water storage; the spigots at the bottom are perfect for draining the water as needed. I moved every bit of our remaining food into the walk-in closets after treating the area with a little borax after I saw a couple of palmetto bugs, otherwise known as Florida’s state bird. Bugs belong outside where things can eat them, not inside where I have to worry about finding them in my bed.
I also stuffed any potential entrances with steel wool Brillo pads. I like mice even less than I like Palmetto bugs and that is saying something.
I still feel claustrophobic when Nydia and I are down there but there is no helping that. Even with the solar garden lights I always feel like I’m inside a mausoleum. Ventilation isn’t the best either. I figured out a way to take a floor fan and get it running using the solar charged battery system but if we are forced to hide down there for any length of time I’m not sure how long the batteries will last. When I tried cooking down there … let’s just say it isn’t an experiment I’m eager to repeat for a while yet.
Nydia loves the space. If it didn’t get so hot with the trap door shut she’d stay down there all the time. I guess it makes her feel safe, and honestly that is what I’m doing all of this for. I’ve made it as homey as I can, bringing in all of the valuables I wouldn’t want to lose, books, family pictures and what equipment I don’t use daily. Even enlarging our “hidden” space this much, with everything crammed in there it is hard not to bump into something every time I turn around.
The thicker walls also make it harder for me to get a good radio signal so to listen to the radio I have to be upstairs or outside of the hidden space. The space is far from perfect and may not mean anything if we have a dirty bomb fall anywhere near the vicinity but at least I’ll be able to stand before God and Mateo and say, “I did the best I could and I never stopped trying.”
Day before yesterday I just sat down and had a short melt down. It wasn’t all because I was tired either. I’m glad that Nydia was playing happily “in our hole in the ground” and didn’t see my reaction to the news that came over the radio.
New York City, more specifically the UN complex, had been targeted with a nuclear bomb. It was then I found out that DC had long been evacuated and our government and top military officials had found their own holes and gotten into them. I can’t begin to imagine the loss of life … both the innocent and the not so innocent. There has been no public speech released by the President. The only information from civilian sources was a brief announcement from the President’s Press Secretary that the President would be releasing a statement shortly … only shortly never arrived. I don’t know what is going on in that arena. It would be nice to know who is steering the ship but it isn’t necessary to my survival at the moment.
I haven’t seen the people from across the street since the radio announcement of NYC getting hit. I don’t know if they are still there but it doesn’t feel like it. I’ve seen other people in the neighborhood leaving by foot, following what is left of the train tracks. The whole city feels like it is dying. I know that is an exaggeration but that is how I feel, the sense that things give me. On the other hand, the fewer people I have to compete with for a limited number of resources the better.
Last night’s bombing episode was a terrifying experience in realizing just how quickly I might find myself standing before Judgment. This time when the emergency broad cast signal sounded it was for real. I was outside bringing in the last of the plants when I heard the radio crackle from the kitchen. That burst of sound is unforgettable. I pushed the dolly in front of my, slamming the door shut behind me. Then I dropped the roll down door. I was half way up the stairs when I had to stop and grab my stomach. A stitch in my side told me I was in danger of hurting myself or the baby. I got into the hidden bonus room only to find the trap door open and Nydia trying to drag her bedding down the ladder with her. She had been listening to the radio I had left on the TV tray. She hates the emergency broadcast signal.
“Go Baby!” I told her. “Just get down and out of the way. Nonny is going to drop some stuff down.”
“But my dolly!! I can’t find her!”
“Now Nydia!” I told her sharply.
I turned to see the doll half way between her bed and the trap door. I dropped it down with the rest of her bedding and then tossed down the two back packs (1 large and heavy and one light weight and child-sized) I kept ready to go. There wasn’t time for anything else which made me realize if we want to use that space then we need to move what little bit remains out of the upstairs and only have a small basic supply up here.
It was a long night. Sometimes there was no break in the rumbling but I realized too that if the planes continued to fly like that it was unlikely that the nuclear option had been used … this time.
And now I’ve poured it all out yet again and where has it gotten me? The bombs have still fallen, we’re still at war, defending against those who seek to take away our way of life. I still don’t understand why things have to be this way and I’m still alone.
Or am I? It is so easy in the good times to have faith; in the bad times it is all too easy to forget your faith and give up. Mateo and I were watching a show on TV – it feels like forever ago – on the cycles within civilizations. You start at “Freedom” but at some point those enjoying freedom forget its cost and begin to take it for granted. When that happens society slips into a state of apathy. This is even encouraged by some because it allows them to do their deeds without questions. Eventually the society finds itself in bondage, sometimes to foreign powers but just as often to their own home grown tyrants and social debauchery.
Sometimes at that point a society is completely destroyed never to exist again. That is a worrisome thought after the last few days. But there can also be a move into a stage called humility, where they become humbled realizing what was lost and the value of it. From that stage society moves into rejuvenation and revival at which point they begin to experience freedom again.
I hope there is a way for the people in this country to avoid the bondage stage but I’m not sure that I believe that change will truly happen without it. This war … and you might as well add famine and disease as well … is touching us all. But I have a feeling things could be worse, will get worse before they get better.
When rumors of UN troops taking over resource centers and trying to block our own military from accessing them begin to make their way into mainstream media broadcasts you have to step back and come to terms that the world as we knew it may never return, at least not in my lifetime. Sometimes I wonder where Mateo is but not too often. It hurts too much. I caught his scent on a shirt in his closet the other day and it took my breath away. I miss him so much but I’m not ready to deal with the fact that he may never return.
All I can do is all I can do and time is proving that there is a lot that I can do. Later today I’ll go outside and see if the bombing has left anything viable on the trees to ripen. I know there are a few things from the containers that need to be picked. I’ll switch out the trays on the dehydrators, I’ll treat water for us to drink and I’ll try and get a little washing done. That will have to be enough for the rest of the day. Tomorrow, as soon as I make sure there won’t be any troops in the area, I’m going to take Nydia and we are going to see what there is left along our road. I need to have a better idea of what is happening but nine will get you ten I won’t like what I find.
The decision was gut-wrenching but I decided to stick it out here. Not knowing what the threat was I had to prepare the best way I could. There wasn’t much lumber left in the barn and I didn’t want to destroy the inside of the house because they wouldn’t make our protection any better and would actually make our living environment worse. I said to heck with what people would think and I went salvaging at the two abandoned houses of our neighbors.
Most of the interior doors at both houses were intact and I was lucky they were solid core doors as well from when they had been in fashion a few years back. I popped them out of their hinges as quick as I could. I could strap five doors at a time to the dolly and brought them back to the patio, door knobs and all. Between the two houses I wound up with a few over thirty doors. Not all of them were the same width but that actually proved helpful.
Next I swiped the hot water tanks. That was a trip. I had to wait until it was dark before I could get them home because I couldn’t lift them over the fence. Nydia was exhausted but refused to leave me so I decided to call it a night after bringing in my garden containers, filling several five gallon buckets with water, and hauling everything inside.
I got Nydia to sleep pretty quickly that night by telling her I wasn’t going outside. But I didn’t just go to bed either. I knew that I was going to have to expand our hiding space on the ground floor and there wasn’t going to be an easy or pretty way to do it. I hated to do it but after thinking about it all day I was going to have to seal off the master bathroom and walk in closets since they were adjacent to the pantry and then somehow cut a hole through the pantry wall to access the area. Instead of going directly into the bathroom I decided to go through the walk in closet that Nydia used to use as her sleeping area. This would save me from compromising any of the pipes in the bathroom and from having to cut through the concrete board that the walls in there were made of.
I spent most of the rest of the night taking measurements and drawing on the walls in chalk outlining what I wanted to do. I was smart enough to hook the recharger for the power drill into the inverter before collapsing. I fell into a dreamless sleep only to wake up to one of those emergency broadcast signals on the radio. I nearly wet myself trying to get up and grab Nydia before I heard, “Had this been an actual emergency …” I nearly threw the cursed radio out of the window before laying my head down and having a cry.
That day was spent sealing the doors into the bathroom and the walk in closet. Before screwing them into their doorframes I moved all of the doors and the two hot water tanks into the closet as well as a bucket full of self-taping nails. If I hadn’t remembered to charge the battery packs I don’t know how I would have managed it in the state I was in. It was hot and close as well as dark.
After screwing the two doors shut I took the doorknobs off moved furniture in front of them so that they weren’t obvious. The dresser and mirror completely covered one of the doors and a bookcase from the family room was used to cover the other one. Then I went upstairs and climbed down into the pantry and the hard work really started.
During a short break where I fed Nydia I counted off what I had accomplished thus far and determined that making a plan is a whole lot easier than executing it, especially when you are on your own. The only comment of interest came from Nydia. “Will Poppy get mad?” I told her no since we were doing it to be safe and that seemed to be that. Honestly I was surprised at her question because she rarely will bring up the subject of Mateo on her own.
On all the walls except those in the bathroom I hung the doors like paneling. The master bathroom was the only room that had an exterior door and it was also the only place we could get any natural lighting. There was a diamond of block glass that acted as the window, though a few were cracked on the outside after the first bombing run. I did not want to give up that light until we had to so I took the hinges that I had removed from the salvaged doors, several thicknesses of what little plywood I had left, and made a “shutter” that I could lift or lower as the need arose.
I knew that the ceilings were already thicker than normal because Mateo had told me that when he moved into the house he hired someone to take care of the squeaky upstairs. They pulled the old floor up, added solid insulation and then nailed down this thick flooring that added another layer of insulation and added sound proofing. I’m still not sure that is going to be enough so I plan on more salvaging. I pray no one stops me for being a looter.
The salvaged hot water tanks have become more water storage; the spigots at the bottom are perfect for draining the water as needed. I moved every bit of our remaining food into the walk-in closets after treating the area with a little borax after I saw a couple of palmetto bugs, otherwise known as Florida’s state bird. Bugs belong outside where things can eat them, not inside where I have to worry about finding them in my bed.
I also stuffed any potential entrances with steel wool Brillo pads. I like mice even less than I like Palmetto bugs and that is saying something.
I still feel claustrophobic when Nydia and I are down there but there is no helping that. Even with the solar garden lights I always feel like I’m inside a mausoleum. Ventilation isn’t the best either. I figured out a way to take a floor fan and get it running using the solar charged battery system but if we are forced to hide down there for any length of time I’m not sure how long the batteries will last. When I tried cooking down there … let’s just say it isn’t an experiment I’m eager to repeat for a while yet.
Nydia loves the space. If it didn’t get so hot with the trap door shut she’d stay down there all the time. I guess it makes her feel safe, and honestly that is what I’m doing all of this for. I’ve made it as homey as I can, bringing in all of the valuables I wouldn’t want to lose, books, family pictures and what equipment I don’t use daily. Even enlarging our “hidden” space this much, with everything crammed in there it is hard not to bump into something every time I turn around.
The thicker walls also make it harder for me to get a good radio signal so to listen to the radio I have to be upstairs or outside of the hidden space. The space is far from perfect and may not mean anything if we have a dirty bomb fall anywhere near the vicinity but at least I’ll be able to stand before God and Mateo and say, “I did the best I could and I never stopped trying.”
Day before yesterday I just sat down and had a short melt down. It wasn’t all because I was tired either. I’m glad that Nydia was playing happily “in our hole in the ground” and didn’t see my reaction to the news that came over the radio.
New York City, more specifically the UN complex, had been targeted with a nuclear bomb. It was then I found out that DC had long been evacuated and our government and top military officials had found their own holes and gotten into them. I can’t begin to imagine the loss of life … both the innocent and the not so innocent. There has been no public speech released by the President. The only information from civilian sources was a brief announcement from the President’s Press Secretary that the President would be releasing a statement shortly … only shortly never arrived. I don’t know what is going on in that arena. It would be nice to know who is steering the ship but it isn’t necessary to my survival at the moment.
I haven’t seen the people from across the street since the radio announcement of NYC getting hit. I don’t know if they are still there but it doesn’t feel like it. I’ve seen other people in the neighborhood leaving by foot, following what is left of the train tracks. The whole city feels like it is dying. I know that is an exaggeration but that is how I feel, the sense that things give me. On the other hand, the fewer people I have to compete with for a limited number of resources the better.
Last night’s bombing episode was a terrifying experience in realizing just how quickly I might find myself standing before Judgment. This time when the emergency broad cast signal sounded it was for real. I was outside bringing in the last of the plants when I heard the radio crackle from the kitchen. That burst of sound is unforgettable. I pushed the dolly in front of my, slamming the door shut behind me. Then I dropped the roll down door. I was half way up the stairs when I had to stop and grab my stomach. A stitch in my side told me I was in danger of hurting myself or the baby. I got into the hidden bonus room only to find the trap door open and Nydia trying to drag her bedding down the ladder with her. She had been listening to the radio I had left on the TV tray. She hates the emergency broadcast signal.
“Go Baby!” I told her. “Just get down and out of the way. Nonny is going to drop some stuff down.”
“But my dolly!! I can’t find her!”
“Now Nydia!” I told her sharply.
I turned to see the doll half way between her bed and the trap door. I dropped it down with the rest of her bedding and then tossed down the two back packs (1 large and heavy and one light weight and child-sized) I kept ready to go. There wasn’t time for anything else which made me realize if we want to use that space then we need to move what little bit remains out of the upstairs and only have a small basic supply up here.
It was a long night. Sometimes there was no break in the rumbling but I realized too that if the planes continued to fly like that it was unlikely that the nuclear option had been used … this time.
And now I’ve poured it all out yet again and where has it gotten me? The bombs have still fallen, we’re still at war, defending against those who seek to take away our way of life. I still don’t understand why things have to be this way and I’m still alone.
Or am I? It is so easy in the good times to have faith; in the bad times it is all too easy to forget your faith and give up. Mateo and I were watching a show on TV – it feels like forever ago – on the cycles within civilizations. You start at “Freedom” but at some point those enjoying freedom forget its cost and begin to take it for granted. When that happens society slips into a state of apathy. This is even encouraged by some because it allows them to do their deeds without questions. Eventually the society finds itself in bondage, sometimes to foreign powers but just as often to their own home grown tyrants and social debauchery.
Sometimes at that point a society is completely destroyed never to exist again. That is a worrisome thought after the last few days. But there can also be a move into a stage called humility, where they become humbled realizing what was lost and the value of it. From that stage society moves into rejuvenation and revival at which point they begin to experience freedom again.
I hope there is a way for the people in this country to avoid the bondage stage but I’m not sure that I believe that change will truly happen without it. This war … and you might as well add famine and disease as well … is touching us all. But I have a feeling things could be worse, will get worse before they get better.
When rumors of UN troops taking over resource centers and trying to block our own military from accessing them begin to make their way into mainstream media broadcasts you have to step back and come to terms that the world as we knew it may never return, at least not in my lifetime. Sometimes I wonder where Mateo is but not too often. It hurts too much. I caught his scent on a shirt in his closet the other day and it took my breath away. I miss him so much but I’m not ready to deal with the fact that he may never return.
All I can do is all I can do and time is proving that there is a lot that I can do. Later today I’ll go outside and see if the bombing has left anything viable on the trees to ripen. I know there are a few things from the containers that need to be picked. I’ll switch out the trays on the dehydrators, I’ll treat water for us to drink and I’ll try and get a little washing done. That will have to be enough for the rest of the day. Tomorrow, as soon as I make sure there won’t be any troops in the area, I’m going to take Nydia and we are going to see what there is left along our road. I need to have a better idea of what is happening but nine will get you ten I won’t like what I find.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you, always good.
Part Six: The Walls We Build - 1
Here I lay, staring at these bland, colorless walls. I don’t know if they are protecting us or if they are to be our tomb. I’m a little sick but mostly just nerves I think … well, better start at the beginning, or at least the beginning of the latest episode in our lives.
Reading over what I’ve written, it’s not like I have much else to do at the moment, I see that the last page I left off at was after one of the early bombing runs. That night was a long one filled with lots of emotions not the least of which was an almost helpless anger and depression that left me so tired I almost couldn’t accomplish the task that I had set for myself the next day. If it hadn’t been for Nydia and the baby kicking away inside me I don’t know where I would have gone from that point.
But get up and get going I did, though at a much later start than I had intended. After all of the destruction in the night it was almost surreal to step outside and hear the owls screeching and the squirrels barking in complaint. That and the buzz of some wasps I had disturbed in the eaves of the house were all I heard. It was a glorious day if you want to know the truth. The humidity was running about ten percent lower than it normally did and it actually felt a bit cool after being cooped up in the poorly ventilated shelter.
I would have looked ridiculous and completely out of place … like some grotesque Gothic whale … had I worn my black nightwear. Instead I dressed in extremely faded jeans, the knee of which I’d had to recently patch and a threadbare t-shirt advertising Coppertone suntan lotion. Nydia thought the picture of the dog pulling the little girl’s bathing suit bottom down was hysterically funny for some reason and I had to remind her several times to not be so loud. I hadn’t really wanted to bring her but I didn’t see a choice. I was going too far from the house and wouldn’t be able to get to her very quickly if something went wrong. One of my worst nightmares up to that point had been leaving the house for whatever reason only to come back and find her gone, taken by some stranger or because she wandered away looking for me despite my order for her to stay locked in the house.
I brought along my large garden cart so I could either pull her if she grew tired or in case we found something worth salvaging for ourselves … assuming we didn’t run into anyone who objected. First I went across the street, determined to see if the man and wife were still there.
The house was one of the oldest on the street and sat well back from the road, hidden behind huge azalea bushes, old orange trees from the former groves that covered this area, and a fence full of confederate jasmine choked off by saw briars. I put on my gardening gloves and was finally able to tear out enough of the fast growing and noxious vines that I could push the gate open far enough to get the cart and Nydia in with me.
Remembering there was a possibility of booby traps I was extremely slow and cautious. I made it to the porch and was looking through the windows when I noticed a piece of paper wedged between the wall and one of the decorative shutters. I carefully pulled it out and a key fell into my hand. I read the note and could only shake my head.
To whom it may concern – we ain’t coming back here so we hear by give you permisshun to take what you need. But if you are steel here we feel awful sorry for you because you didn’t get out in time. It is too late for you. They will send a big bomb to Macdill soon and there isn’t anythang anyone can do about it. Live good wile you can because soon you will meet your maker. Signed The Trasks
Well, I had been speaking to Mr. and Mrs. Trask. At least I finally had a name for them though that did nothing to ease the fear the short letter had generated. I kept trying to tell myself they were three shades of crazy but I couldn’t quite bring myself to completely discount their warning.
It took me forever to ease into the house but when I did there wasn’t exactly the treasure trove I had expected to find. On the other hand I may very well have found the greatest treasure of the day, only time will tell for sure.
The rooms were a maze of hoarded newspapers, magazines and books. I could move around in the rooms, but just barely. The kitchen was enough to gag me and I left that room much faster than I had entered it. Then in a back bedroom I found another type of hoarding. It looked like one or the other of them had a fondness for salvaging but it was the oddest method of storage I could have ever imagined. There were white plastic garbage bags, the kind with the yellow or red plastic string ties at the top, stacked floor to ceiling, nearly filling the entire room. On each bag was written an address in black marker. I recognized all of the street names I saw. Almost afraid to but too curious not to I untied one and peered inside. Linens. I opened another bag from another address. Linens. I opened another. Linens again. I opened the fourth expected linens and instead found more bags. Gently opening these bags I found yarn in one, a couple of rag rugs in another, and the other small bag held two brand new packages of women’s hygiene products. I grabbed that stuff and put it in the cart and covered it with the rag rugs. I didn’t need it then but I knew I’d need it soon.
Here I lay, staring at these bland, colorless walls. I don’t know if they are protecting us or if they are to be our tomb. I’m a little sick but mostly just nerves I think … well, better start at the beginning, or at least the beginning of the latest episode in our lives.
Reading over what I’ve written, it’s not like I have much else to do at the moment, I see that the last page I left off at was after one of the early bombing runs. That night was a long one filled with lots of emotions not the least of which was an almost helpless anger and depression that left me so tired I almost couldn’t accomplish the task that I had set for myself the next day. If it hadn’t been for Nydia and the baby kicking away inside me I don’t know where I would have gone from that point.
But get up and get going I did, though at a much later start than I had intended. After all of the destruction in the night it was almost surreal to step outside and hear the owls screeching and the squirrels barking in complaint. That and the buzz of some wasps I had disturbed in the eaves of the house were all I heard. It was a glorious day if you want to know the truth. The humidity was running about ten percent lower than it normally did and it actually felt a bit cool after being cooped up in the poorly ventilated shelter.
I would have looked ridiculous and completely out of place … like some grotesque Gothic whale … had I worn my black nightwear. Instead I dressed in extremely faded jeans, the knee of which I’d had to recently patch and a threadbare t-shirt advertising Coppertone suntan lotion. Nydia thought the picture of the dog pulling the little girl’s bathing suit bottom down was hysterically funny for some reason and I had to remind her several times to not be so loud. I hadn’t really wanted to bring her but I didn’t see a choice. I was going too far from the house and wouldn’t be able to get to her very quickly if something went wrong. One of my worst nightmares up to that point had been leaving the house for whatever reason only to come back and find her gone, taken by some stranger or because she wandered away looking for me despite my order for her to stay locked in the house.
I brought along my large garden cart so I could either pull her if she grew tired or in case we found something worth salvaging for ourselves … assuming we didn’t run into anyone who objected. First I went across the street, determined to see if the man and wife were still there.
The house was one of the oldest on the street and sat well back from the road, hidden behind huge azalea bushes, old orange trees from the former groves that covered this area, and a fence full of confederate jasmine choked off by saw briars. I put on my gardening gloves and was finally able to tear out enough of the fast growing and noxious vines that I could push the gate open far enough to get the cart and Nydia in with me.
Remembering there was a possibility of booby traps I was extremely slow and cautious. I made it to the porch and was looking through the windows when I noticed a piece of paper wedged between the wall and one of the decorative shutters. I carefully pulled it out and a key fell into my hand. I read the note and could only shake my head.
To whom it may concern – we ain’t coming back here so we hear by give you permisshun to take what you need. But if you are steel here we feel awful sorry for you because you didn’t get out in time. It is too late for you. They will send a big bomb to Macdill soon and there isn’t anythang anyone can do about it. Live good wile you can because soon you will meet your maker. Signed The Trasks
Well, I had been speaking to Mr. and Mrs. Trask. At least I finally had a name for them though that did nothing to ease the fear the short letter had generated. I kept trying to tell myself they were three shades of crazy but I couldn’t quite bring myself to completely discount their warning.
It took me forever to ease into the house but when I did there wasn’t exactly the treasure trove I had expected to find. On the other hand I may very well have found the greatest treasure of the day, only time will tell for sure.
The rooms were a maze of hoarded newspapers, magazines and books. I could move around in the rooms, but just barely. The kitchen was enough to gag me and I left that room much faster than I had entered it. Then in a back bedroom I found another type of hoarding. It looked like one or the other of them had a fondness for salvaging but it was the oddest method of storage I could have ever imagined. There were white plastic garbage bags, the kind with the yellow or red plastic string ties at the top, stacked floor to ceiling, nearly filling the entire room. On each bag was written an address in black marker. I recognized all of the street names I saw. Almost afraid to but too curious not to I untied one and peered inside. Linens. I opened another bag from another address. Linens. I opened another. Linens again. I opened the fourth expected linens and instead found more bags. Gently opening these bags I found yarn in one, a couple of rag rugs in another, and the other small bag held two brand new packages of women’s hygiene products. I grabbed that stuff and put it in the cart and covered it with the rag rugs. I didn’t need it then but I knew I’d need it soon.
Part 6 - 2
The volume of white kitchen garbage bags was overwhelming and I decided to leave it and come back later after I had checked the rest of neighborhood. That’s when I caught a glimpse of another, smaller house behind the one I was in. I walked around back and discovered the small house was actually a large workshop. Still being cautious I tried to open the door to find it locked. I looked at the key in my hand and taking a chance found that the lock used the same key as the house.
The workshop was completely different from the house. The house had looked like it belonged on one of those reality shows where the messiest homes were redecorated and tidied up by professional organizers … before the redecorating and tidying up had occurred. The workshop looked like it belonged to someone suffering the opposite problem - a compulsive cleaning disorder. There were tools all over the walls hanging on peg board. Everything was neatly labeled and organized by tool type and size. There were a couple of empty spots as if those particular tools had been taken down and were in use. Where there wasn’t pegboard there were drawers and trays, also neatly labeled with their contents. There was an old spice rack that held jars of nails and screws, separated by type and length. As a matter of fact the shop was so neat I had an uncontrollable urge to mess it up just to keep it from being so perfect.
The only clashing note was a big box sitting right in the middle of the floor where it couldn’t be missed. Not knowing quite what to make of the out of place box but as curious as a cat to see what was in it I stopped one more time and gave a prayer that I wasn’t about to blow us up by falling for some Pandora-like box bomb. Once I got it open I suffered a huge let down. The box was just a case of bags. In disgust I rose to go and then I turned back for another look because something about those bags rang a bell. Then I figured it out, they were sand bags … empty ones but sand bags nonetheless. I grabbed a stack of them to use in case I found salvage that would be easier to move that way.
Then I left the property having accomplished my main goal of seeing if anyone was still living there and finally got back to the road. I thought to myself, “Well that was an hour wasted.” Nydia wanted to ride in the cart so I had her hop in and hoped I wouldn’t have to run pulling the cart because even though she wasn’t all that heavy she certainly added to the amount of strength I had to exert to move it. I had to stop frequently even though it wasn’t that far to the other end of the street and even going slow I was wringing wet from sweat and already sore through my back.
The first five houses I stopped to investigate were stripped or ransacked. I stopped looking for food after a few houses as obviously people had been a lot worse off than us but I did find some spices and seasonings. It wasn’t much but it was something. I also found a closet full of metal hangers in one house, probably left by someone that got most of their clothes done at the dry cleaners. I didn’t know what I was going to use them for but I was determined to not come back empty handed.
The sixth house looked like someone had been living in it in the recent past but how they were living was disgusting. I don’t know if it was the property owners or a squatter. No one was living in it at that moment however. I could tell from the … er, evidence … left in a bucket in the bathroom. I made sure Nydia stayed by the front door while I did a quick inspection. Everything was so foul in there I doubt I would have taken anything anyway even if there had been something worth taking.
As I slipped from house to house I began to notice that most of them had doors missing on the inside, some even had cabinet doors missing in the kitchen and bathrooms. I found out why in the back of one of the houses and then started noticing even more evidence. People had started to dismantle bits and pieces of their houses to burn. I don’t know if it was leftover from when it had been cooler or a more likely scenario being they were using the small fires to cook over or to boil water over.
I looked at the large oak trees that grew in the neighborhood and saw where many smaller branches and limbs had been taken out, some by sawing but most look like they’d simply been ripped or broken out. There was very little tree debris on the ground. Either someone was still collecting it or there just wasn’t any left to fall for a while.
I was about ready to give up when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned too fast and everything went fuzzy as my blood pressure couldn’t keep up with me. I sat down rather quickly nearly turning an ankle in the process. It was the one that never quite wanted to heal from where I fell getting in and out of the barn. I was shaking my head trying to clear my vision and groping for the LCP at the same time when a voice said, “Pity you. I know me and my girl have it bad but at least I’m not pregnant.”
The volume of white kitchen garbage bags was overwhelming and I decided to leave it and come back later after I had checked the rest of neighborhood. That’s when I caught a glimpse of another, smaller house behind the one I was in. I walked around back and discovered the small house was actually a large workshop. Still being cautious I tried to open the door to find it locked. I looked at the key in my hand and taking a chance found that the lock used the same key as the house.
The workshop was completely different from the house. The house had looked like it belonged on one of those reality shows where the messiest homes were redecorated and tidied up by professional organizers … before the redecorating and tidying up had occurred. The workshop looked like it belonged to someone suffering the opposite problem - a compulsive cleaning disorder. There were tools all over the walls hanging on peg board. Everything was neatly labeled and organized by tool type and size. There were a couple of empty spots as if those particular tools had been taken down and were in use. Where there wasn’t pegboard there were drawers and trays, also neatly labeled with their contents. There was an old spice rack that held jars of nails and screws, separated by type and length. As a matter of fact the shop was so neat I had an uncontrollable urge to mess it up just to keep it from being so perfect.
The only clashing note was a big box sitting right in the middle of the floor where it couldn’t be missed. Not knowing quite what to make of the out of place box but as curious as a cat to see what was in it I stopped one more time and gave a prayer that I wasn’t about to blow us up by falling for some Pandora-like box bomb. Once I got it open I suffered a huge let down. The box was just a case of bags. In disgust I rose to go and then I turned back for another look because something about those bags rang a bell. Then I figured it out, they were sand bags … empty ones but sand bags nonetheless. I grabbed a stack of them to use in case I found salvage that would be easier to move that way.
Then I left the property having accomplished my main goal of seeing if anyone was still living there and finally got back to the road. I thought to myself, “Well that was an hour wasted.” Nydia wanted to ride in the cart so I had her hop in and hoped I wouldn’t have to run pulling the cart because even though she wasn’t all that heavy she certainly added to the amount of strength I had to exert to move it. I had to stop frequently even though it wasn’t that far to the other end of the street and even going slow I was wringing wet from sweat and already sore through my back.
The first five houses I stopped to investigate were stripped or ransacked. I stopped looking for food after a few houses as obviously people had been a lot worse off than us but I did find some spices and seasonings. It wasn’t much but it was something. I also found a closet full of metal hangers in one house, probably left by someone that got most of their clothes done at the dry cleaners. I didn’t know what I was going to use them for but I was determined to not come back empty handed.
The sixth house looked like someone had been living in it in the recent past but how they were living was disgusting. I don’t know if it was the property owners or a squatter. No one was living in it at that moment however. I could tell from the … er, evidence … left in a bucket in the bathroom. I made sure Nydia stayed by the front door while I did a quick inspection. Everything was so foul in there I doubt I would have taken anything anyway even if there had been something worth taking.
As I slipped from house to house I began to notice that most of them had doors missing on the inside, some even had cabinet doors missing in the kitchen and bathrooms. I found out why in the back of one of the houses and then started noticing even more evidence. People had started to dismantle bits and pieces of their houses to burn. I don’t know if it was leftover from when it had been cooler or a more likely scenario being they were using the small fires to cook over or to boil water over.
I looked at the large oak trees that grew in the neighborhood and saw where many smaller branches and limbs had been taken out, some by sawing but most look like they’d simply been ripped or broken out. There was very little tree debris on the ground. Either someone was still collecting it or there just wasn’t any left to fall for a while.
I was about ready to give up when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned too fast and everything went fuzzy as my blood pressure couldn’t keep up with me. I sat down rather quickly nearly turning an ankle in the process. It was the one that never quite wanted to heal from where I fell getting in and out of the barn. I was shaking my head trying to clear my vision and groping for the LCP at the same time when a voice said, “Pity you. I know me and my girl have it bad but at least I’m not pregnant.”
Part 6 - 3
Standing near the edge of the house I had meant to enter next was a woman and a girl that looked to be three or four years older than Nydia. Still flustered I said, “Well … it just … sort of worked out this way.”
“I hear you. Look, we’ve been all up and down this street three or four times, there really isn’t anything left. And personally, I’m throwing in the towel. I’ve heard that there are pick up locations for refugees and that’s where I’m heading. They are supposed to resettle you someplace else with a room and board.”
“Yeah? At what price?” I asked curious even though I knew for a fact I would not leave.
“Don’t know. Don’t care at this point either. If we stay here we’ll be killed in the bombing, starve, or possibly worse. The looters haven’t been around this way for a while but when things get lean where ever they have moved on to they’ll be back just to see if they missed anything … assuming there are any buildings left standing by that point.”
I gave a noncommittal “Mmmm.”
“We’re going. If you’re smart you’ll get some things together and go out to the highway and follow it until you get directed to a pick up point. They might even take pity on you in your condition and you’ll get better treatment.”
I started to reply but she was already turning away, pulling a child’s toy wagon loaded with what was likely all of their worldly possessions and moving in the general direction of US41. She did throw one last cautionary note over her shoulder. “Be careful if you go the next street over. There are some mean rats in a couple of the houses and the feral cats are even worse. Most of the dogs have been killed and eaten but I heard one last night some place close by. Oh, and some of the houses at the end of the road there aren’t safe to enter; the ceilings have come down and they’ve got black mold growing all over the place inside.”
Not that I would have accepted but she never even brought up the idea of traveling together for safety. The only weapon I saw was a wooden bat that had had all sorts of sharp things driven into it so that it looked more like a Medieval mace but then again, I never pulled my hand out of the pocket where it was wrapped around the little LCP. Who knows what she might have had hidden. I never saw the woman and girl again so I hope they made it someplace safe in time.
I didn’t just take the woman’s word for it and checked the houses all the same. She hadn’t been lying. Most of the houses looked like they had been stripped clean. Except I did find things here and there … bobby pins, a ball made of rubber bands, a couple of packets of Sweet-n-low, a coffee can of landscaping spikes, some empty cans I could flatten and use for something eventually, a brand new and unopened tube of Liquid Nails.
The sun was now high in the sky and Nydia was saying that she was hungry. I was simply spent, even more depressed than when I had awoken after my restless sleep. I turned us around to head back home mentally preparing myself for going back to the Trask house and looking through those garbage bags some more and that in turn made me think about the note they had left.
They hadn’t said it outright but there had been speculation on the radio of how soon other places beside NYC would be bombed with nuclear weapons. Most people seemed surprised that we hadn’t dissolved into complete thermonuclear war involving the whole world. I had to puke after listening to it for a while and then just had to pass it on to Larger Shoulders than mine since I didn’t think there was anything I could do about it. Or could I?
It was then I remembered what some of them had been saying about “expedient fallout shelters.”
I remembered that term from some of the really old civil defense books that had belonged to my parents and after we had returned to our house, and I had put Nydia down in front of a plate of fresh fruit and veggies I pulled from my container garden, I went looking for those books. I’m not librarian neat when it comes to my books but it usually only takes me a few minutes to find something and this was no exception. I grabbed the books and carried them upstairs so that Nydia could take a nap and give me some peace and quiet to study.
It didn’t take me long to see that most of the shelters simply were beyond my ability to build. Some of them required a basement. A lot of them required digging underground and/or cutting and hauling logs. At the very least many of them required some type of ditch or trench and none of that was at my disposal. Briefly disappointed I took another look at one that called an outdoor ridge pole shelter made of logs and dirt. I began to wonder really what made a good fallout shelter and did a little more in-depth reading, completely turning my plans for the day upside down, but I think it was worth it in the long run.
First off there are three main types of radiation emitted from fallout; alpha, beta, and gamma. That seemed simple enough until I began to understand the difference. Though the alpha particles were dangerous if you ingested them or something like that; on the otherhand those emissions were the easiest to protect yourself from because even a piece of paper could block them.
The beta particles were a little trickier. According to the books I read even the worst beta emissions will be blocked by 3 cm of aluminum. Well, I didn’t have two and a half inch aluminum sheets, nor could I have carried them even if I had had them. But, I figured by scrounging and salvaging I could come up with enough aluminum panels and doors that I might be able to get some protection and some would be better than nothing. Beta particles could also burn you if not washed or brushed off quickly. You could avoid that by not traveling in the particles.
The worst stuff however was the gamma emissions. They really aren’t emissions per se; they are rays and that makes them much stronger than just floating particles. All the books that had anything on fallout in them said that it was the gamma rays that the shelters needed to be designed to protect us from but that dense material like concrete, steel, and dirt could do that.
And that’s when I thought about the sand bags. A picture began to form in my head. I knew I could do it, it wouldn’t be pretty, but I could definitely do it. It would mean making an awful mess of the house but if … if … I decided it was worth it and suddenly I had a new lease on life, a project, a goal. I felt empowered again because I was doing something proactive and not just reactive. I also rationalized that a bunker would certainly be more protection if the bombs got closer.
I took a quick nap late in the afternoon while Nydia played with some rocks and things that she had collected while we were out. I’d already washed them off and she’d never been one to stick stuff in her mouth so even though they were a little small I wasn’t too worried and allowed myself to drift off for a few moments.
I woke up when Nydia touched my arm saying she’d heard something outside. I don’t know what it was that she heard because I never saw anything but it was a good time to get up anyway. I fed her and we went through our routine of me tucking her in and her objecting to me working outside. She finally gave in and fell asleep and I changed into my night gear and headed outside, bringing a tube of graphite with me to take care of the squeaky wheel on the garden cart. I didn’t think anyone was around but I wasn’t taking any chances I didn’t have to.
I was back and forth between the Trask place and ours so many times I lost count. First I emptied out the workshop, taking not only the case of sand bags but just about everything else that wasn’t nailed down and some that was. While I loaded and unloaded things between trips across the road I gave serious thought to the different layers of my bunker.
Standing near the edge of the house I had meant to enter next was a woman and a girl that looked to be three or four years older than Nydia. Still flustered I said, “Well … it just … sort of worked out this way.”
“I hear you. Look, we’ve been all up and down this street three or four times, there really isn’t anything left. And personally, I’m throwing in the towel. I’ve heard that there are pick up locations for refugees and that’s where I’m heading. They are supposed to resettle you someplace else with a room and board.”
“Yeah? At what price?” I asked curious even though I knew for a fact I would not leave.
“Don’t know. Don’t care at this point either. If we stay here we’ll be killed in the bombing, starve, or possibly worse. The looters haven’t been around this way for a while but when things get lean where ever they have moved on to they’ll be back just to see if they missed anything … assuming there are any buildings left standing by that point.”
I gave a noncommittal “Mmmm.”
“We’re going. If you’re smart you’ll get some things together and go out to the highway and follow it until you get directed to a pick up point. They might even take pity on you in your condition and you’ll get better treatment.”
I started to reply but she was already turning away, pulling a child’s toy wagon loaded with what was likely all of their worldly possessions and moving in the general direction of US41. She did throw one last cautionary note over her shoulder. “Be careful if you go the next street over. There are some mean rats in a couple of the houses and the feral cats are even worse. Most of the dogs have been killed and eaten but I heard one last night some place close by. Oh, and some of the houses at the end of the road there aren’t safe to enter; the ceilings have come down and they’ve got black mold growing all over the place inside.”
Not that I would have accepted but she never even brought up the idea of traveling together for safety. The only weapon I saw was a wooden bat that had had all sorts of sharp things driven into it so that it looked more like a Medieval mace but then again, I never pulled my hand out of the pocket where it was wrapped around the little LCP. Who knows what she might have had hidden. I never saw the woman and girl again so I hope they made it someplace safe in time.
I didn’t just take the woman’s word for it and checked the houses all the same. She hadn’t been lying. Most of the houses looked like they had been stripped clean. Except I did find things here and there … bobby pins, a ball made of rubber bands, a couple of packets of Sweet-n-low, a coffee can of landscaping spikes, some empty cans I could flatten and use for something eventually, a brand new and unopened tube of Liquid Nails.
The sun was now high in the sky and Nydia was saying that she was hungry. I was simply spent, even more depressed than when I had awoken after my restless sleep. I turned us around to head back home mentally preparing myself for going back to the Trask house and looking through those garbage bags some more and that in turn made me think about the note they had left.
They hadn’t said it outright but there had been speculation on the radio of how soon other places beside NYC would be bombed with nuclear weapons. Most people seemed surprised that we hadn’t dissolved into complete thermonuclear war involving the whole world. I had to puke after listening to it for a while and then just had to pass it on to Larger Shoulders than mine since I didn’t think there was anything I could do about it. Or could I?
It was then I remembered what some of them had been saying about “expedient fallout shelters.”
I remembered that term from some of the really old civil defense books that had belonged to my parents and after we had returned to our house, and I had put Nydia down in front of a plate of fresh fruit and veggies I pulled from my container garden, I went looking for those books. I’m not librarian neat when it comes to my books but it usually only takes me a few minutes to find something and this was no exception. I grabbed the books and carried them upstairs so that Nydia could take a nap and give me some peace and quiet to study.
It didn’t take me long to see that most of the shelters simply were beyond my ability to build. Some of them required a basement. A lot of them required digging underground and/or cutting and hauling logs. At the very least many of them required some type of ditch or trench and none of that was at my disposal. Briefly disappointed I took another look at one that called an outdoor ridge pole shelter made of logs and dirt. I began to wonder really what made a good fallout shelter and did a little more in-depth reading, completely turning my plans for the day upside down, but I think it was worth it in the long run.
First off there are three main types of radiation emitted from fallout; alpha, beta, and gamma. That seemed simple enough until I began to understand the difference. Though the alpha particles were dangerous if you ingested them or something like that; on the otherhand those emissions were the easiest to protect yourself from because even a piece of paper could block them.
The beta particles were a little trickier. According to the books I read even the worst beta emissions will be blocked by 3 cm of aluminum. Well, I didn’t have two and a half inch aluminum sheets, nor could I have carried them even if I had had them. But, I figured by scrounging and salvaging I could come up with enough aluminum panels and doors that I might be able to get some protection and some would be better than nothing. Beta particles could also burn you if not washed or brushed off quickly. You could avoid that by not traveling in the particles.
The worst stuff however was the gamma emissions. They really aren’t emissions per se; they are rays and that makes them much stronger than just floating particles. All the books that had anything on fallout in them said that it was the gamma rays that the shelters needed to be designed to protect us from but that dense material like concrete, steel, and dirt could do that.
And that’s when I thought about the sand bags. A picture began to form in my head. I knew I could do it, it wouldn’t be pretty, but I could definitely do it. It would mean making an awful mess of the house but if … if … I decided it was worth it and suddenly I had a new lease on life, a project, a goal. I felt empowered again because I was doing something proactive and not just reactive. I also rationalized that a bunker would certainly be more protection if the bombs got closer.
I took a quick nap late in the afternoon while Nydia played with some rocks and things that she had collected while we were out. I’d already washed them off and she’d never been one to stick stuff in her mouth so even though they were a little small I wasn’t too worried and allowed myself to drift off for a few moments.
I woke up when Nydia touched my arm saying she’d heard something outside. I don’t know what it was that she heard because I never saw anything but it was a good time to get up anyway. I fed her and we went through our routine of me tucking her in and her objecting to me working outside. She finally gave in and fell asleep and I changed into my night gear and headed outside, bringing a tube of graphite with me to take care of the squeaky wheel on the garden cart. I didn’t think anyone was around but I wasn’t taking any chances I didn’t have to.
I was back and forth between the Trask place and ours so many times I lost count. First I emptied out the workshop, taking not only the case of sand bags but just about everything else that wasn’t nailed down and some that was. While I loaded and unloaded things between trips across the road I gave serious thought to the different layers of my bunker.
Part 6 - 4
First where would the bunker be? That was easy enough; I would convert our hiding area into a fallout shelter. It was hidden as close to the center of the house as I could get it except for the master bathroom. I had already built in the sanitation facilities and the water storage capacity. We also had enough room down there now to get around without having to sit knee-to-knee. I just needed to increase the thickness of the walls. Doing that on the inside of the bunker was out of the question; we would have lost too much space though I did decide to push everything we could up against the walls in there which would give us more floor space and act as more sound proofing if nothing else. It meant I would need to build some shelving but with the stuff from the Trask’s workshop it could be done.
Next came the plan for how to thicken the walls of the bunker. I definitely wanted to use the sand bags, but how? And should the sand bags be the only layer or should I go ahead and try to find some aluminum panels?
I had almost given up on the aluminum panel idea and convinced myself that the sand bags would be enough when I ran my shoulder into a post on the Trask house’s back porch. It was hard enough to startle me and I kicked out, my toe connecting with … the aluminum pole of their sun awning. I looked up and actually smiled. Maybe finding enough aluminum panels wasn’t going to be as hard as I had thought it would. Before I had looked up and realized how many houses on this block had some type of aluminum canopy I had thought I would have to resort to dismantling things like breaker panel doors, HVAC system boxes, AC ducts, sheds, and the like. But with so many carports and covered lanais, well it was going to be easier than I had thought.
The Trask’s canopy was the easiest to take down because it was one of those old timey ones that could be dropped to prevent it from being ripped apart during high winds. The side that connected to the house was hinged so all I had to do was take the safety bolt out and then crank the poles down. The rest was easier said than done. I had to figure out how to take the pins out of the hinges and then drop the canopy the rest of the way to the ground. When it finally fell it ripped the last hinge off of the house and made a horrific clang as it came down. Then came the fun of disconnecting each panel from the frame it was attached to.
I had emptied the workshop and gotten the canopy half dismantled when I had to give it up. I was exhausted and the baby had shifted and was laying right on a nerve in my back. I went back to the house, to bed, got up briefly to tend to Nydia, took another cat nap and then got back to work. I did this for five days, often with Nydia helping me during the daylight hours, before I was satisfied with the amount of aluminum and sand bags.
I didn’t just pile up the materials; I laid them as I went. It gave me a chance to come in out of the weather which was turning nastier – broiling sun, suffocating humidity, with several tropical thunderstorms on top of it – and it kept me motivated as I saw my plan coming to life. I started with the roof of our shelter. Instead of trying to nail something to the “ceiling” I simply laid it down on the floor above us. I overlapped sections of the aluminum panels and anything else aluminum I happened to run across that was easy to salvage. It wasn’t 3cm of aluminum but there was over an inch by the time I had finished. On top of the aluminum I laid the sand bags. I also sandbagged all of the upstairs windows (except for the false dormer window) and then did my best to hold them in place by nailing towing straps around them. The straps were another piece of useful junk I found in the back of a truck in the garage of an abandoned house.
Sandbagging the windows meant giving up my solar dehydrator so I had to rebuild it outside on rollers so that I could bring it in every night. I wouldn’t have bothered but I was still convinced that I couldn’t afford to waste any food sources. The good news was the kudzu I found two streets over while checking out a pool awning was growing faster than we could have ever depleted it. It wasn’t my favorite wild edible but it is a versatile one. Momma even had a book dedicated to kudzu recipes. You can make salads, stewed roots, pickled flowers, jelly, syrup, tea, fried kudzu, quiche, ground kudzu root, casseroles, corn bread, thickening for sauces or apple pie, boiled like turnip greens or spinach, kudzu tofu, cake flour but I didn’t have time to try them all and do a lot of experimenting; mostly I simply ate it in with my other salad greens. It filled the hollow spaces and meant I had to worry less about what was coming up in my containers.
After I had finished upstairs I used the same strategy for our shelter walls. I ran out of sandbags three-quarters of the way through so I resorted to using the kitchen garbage bags from inside the Trask house. That meant emptying them to do it which meant carting a bunch of stuff to the house and just dumping it in my former bedroom to keep it out of sight and at least temporarily out of mind. The mess in the house was depressing me but I felt I had no choice. If anyone ever finds us here, they’ll think I’ve run crazy but such is life in these days and times.
The garbage bags were nowhere near as good as the sand bags when it came to stacking them. They also weren’t as thick which meant that they tore quite easily no matter how careful I was. To combat this I would tack the bottom of a tarp about six inches up from the bottom of the floor. Then I would lay the first and second row of sand filled garbage bags against the wall. I would then draw up the tarp from the bottom, nailing it in place with roofing nails to form a “pocket” that held the bags in place. I did this all the way up the wall two or three layers of bags at a time.
I know I must be crazy, but I hated the way it looked so I used some of the bedspreads I had found in the garbage bags to hide the sand bag walls like giant curtains. That too looked ridiculous but it was better than nothing in my opinion, not that I get to see it now.
To protect the well I disconnected the solar cells and brought them in and then covered the small well house with a tarp and then covered the tarp with a three feet thick dirt mound. After suffering through two wash outs from rain I covered the dirt with blocks of sod and then threw an old canvas painter’s cloth over that and held it in place with paving stones I had ripped out of the neighbor’s drive way. It stood out for a couple of days until the tall grass stood back up and after that it just reminded me of a very large ant mound.
The tropical storms were making it harder for me to charge the batteries that kept our lights working and it also made it impossible to leave my garden containers outside as much as I had. When it wasn’t raining I gathered all of the stuff from the edible landscaping and tried to keep the weeds at bay. The weeds and lawn were winning and I had gotten to the point I just didn’t care; I was just that tired. I spent the rainy times moving absolutely everything I could into our bunker and trying to figure out a way to cook in there without suffocating us.
Again using a diagram I had found in a book and several air conditioning filters, the good kind and not the fuzzy blue ones, I built a ventilation system. There was already a couple of AC ducts in the spaces that I had included in the bunker. It was a down and dirty version of what I had seen diagramed but I felt it would work as long as I was careful. The weak point of our bunker was the block glass window in the bathroom. I’d already covered the outside of the house where the bathroom was with sandbags and luckily it was in the back of the house so it wasn’t easily seen. On the inside where the drop down shutter had been before I removed it I simply screwed in place several air conditioning drip pans one on top of the other … those pans the AC units sit in to prevent water damage in case they leak … and then covered that with two sheets of the thickest plywood I had been able to salvage. I reset the shutter but had to use a two by four to attach the hinges to so that the shutter would lay flat against the new material. Not perfect but not bad I think.
First where would the bunker be? That was easy enough; I would convert our hiding area into a fallout shelter. It was hidden as close to the center of the house as I could get it except for the master bathroom. I had already built in the sanitation facilities and the water storage capacity. We also had enough room down there now to get around without having to sit knee-to-knee. I just needed to increase the thickness of the walls. Doing that on the inside of the bunker was out of the question; we would have lost too much space though I did decide to push everything we could up against the walls in there which would give us more floor space and act as more sound proofing if nothing else. It meant I would need to build some shelving but with the stuff from the Trask’s workshop it could be done.
Next came the plan for how to thicken the walls of the bunker. I definitely wanted to use the sand bags, but how? And should the sand bags be the only layer or should I go ahead and try to find some aluminum panels?
I had almost given up on the aluminum panel idea and convinced myself that the sand bags would be enough when I ran my shoulder into a post on the Trask house’s back porch. It was hard enough to startle me and I kicked out, my toe connecting with … the aluminum pole of their sun awning. I looked up and actually smiled. Maybe finding enough aluminum panels wasn’t going to be as hard as I had thought it would. Before I had looked up and realized how many houses on this block had some type of aluminum canopy I had thought I would have to resort to dismantling things like breaker panel doors, HVAC system boxes, AC ducts, sheds, and the like. But with so many carports and covered lanais, well it was going to be easier than I had thought.
The Trask’s canopy was the easiest to take down because it was one of those old timey ones that could be dropped to prevent it from being ripped apart during high winds. The side that connected to the house was hinged so all I had to do was take the safety bolt out and then crank the poles down. The rest was easier said than done. I had to figure out how to take the pins out of the hinges and then drop the canopy the rest of the way to the ground. When it finally fell it ripped the last hinge off of the house and made a horrific clang as it came down. Then came the fun of disconnecting each panel from the frame it was attached to.
I had emptied the workshop and gotten the canopy half dismantled when I had to give it up. I was exhausted and the baby had shifted and was laying right on a nerve in my back. I went back to the house, to bed, got up briefly to tend to Nydia, took another cat nap and then got back to work. I did this for five days, often with Nydia helping me during the daylight hours, before I was satisfied with the amount of aluminum and sand bags.
I didn’t just pile up the materials; I laid them as I went. It gave me a chance to come in out of the weather which was turning nastier – broiling sun, suffocating humidity, with several tropical thunderstorms on top of it – and it kept me motivated as I saw my plan coming to life. I started with the roof of our shelter. Instead of trying to nail something to the “ceiling” I simply laid it down on the floor above us. I overlapped sections of the aluminum panels and anything else aluminum I happened to run across that was easy to salvage. It wasn’t 3cm of aluminum but there was over an inch by the time I had finished. On top of the aluminum I laid the sand bags. I also sandbagged all of the upstairs windows (except for the false dormer window) and then did my best to hold them in place by nailing towing straps around them. The straps were another piece of useful junk I found in the back of a truck in the garage of an abandoned house.
Sandbagging the windows meant giving up my solar dehydrator so I had to rebuild it outside on rollers so that I could bring it in every night. I wouldn’t have bothered but I was still convinced that I couldn’t afford to waste any food sources. The good news was the kudzu I found two streets over while checking out a pool awning was growing faster than we could have ever depleted it. It wasn’t my favorite wild edible but it is a versatile one. Momma even had a book dedicated to kudzu recipes. You can make salads, stewed roots, pickled flowers, jelly, syrup, tea, fried kudzu, quiche, ground kudzu root, casseroles, corn bread, thickening for sauces or apple pie, boiled like turnip greens or spinach, kudzu tofu, cake flour but I didn’t have time to try them all and do a lot of experimenting; mostly I simply ate it in with my other salad greens. It filled the hollow spaces and meant I had to worry less about what was coming up in my containers.
After I had finished upstairs I used the same strategy for our shelter walls. I ran out of sandbags three-quarters of the way through so I resorted to using the kitchen garbage bags from inside the Trask house. That meant emptying them to do it which meant carting a bunch of stuff to the house and just dumping it in my former bedroom to keep it out of sight and at least temporarily out of mind. The mess in the house was depressing me but I felt I had no choice. If anyone ever finds us here, they’ll think I’ve run crazy but such is life in these days and times.
The garbage bags were nowhere near as good as the sand bags when it came to stacking them. They also weren’t as thick which meant that they tore quite easily no matter how careful I was. To combat this I would tack the bottom of a tarp about six inches up from the bottom of the floor. Then I would lay the first and second row of sand filled garbage bags against the wall. I would then draw up the tarp from the bottom, nailing it in place with roofing nails to form a “pocket” that held the bags in place. I did this all the way up the wall two or three layers of bags at a time.
I know I must be crazy, but I hated the way it looked so I used some of the bedspreads I had found in the garbage bags to hide the sand bag walls like giant curtains. That too looked ridiculous but it was better than nothing in my opinion, not that I get to see it now.
To protect the well I disconnected the solar cells and brought them in and then covered the small well house with a tarp and then covered the tarp with a three feet thick dirt mound. After suffering through two wash outs from rain I covered the dirt with blocks of sod and then threw an old canvas painter’s cloth over that and held it in place with paving stones I had ripped out of the neighbor’s drive way. It stood out for a couple of days until the tall grass stood back up and after that it just reminded me of a very large ant mound.
The tropical storms were making it harder for me to charge the batteries that kept our lights working and it also made it impossible to leave my garden containers outside as much as I had. When it wasn’t raining I gathered all of the stuff from the edible landscaping and tried to keep the weeds at bay. The weeds and lawn were winning and I had gotten to the point I just didn’t care; I was just that tired. I spent the rainy times moving absolutely everything I could into our bunker and trying to figure out a way to cook in there without suffocating us.
Again using a diagram I had found in a book and several air conditioning filters, the good kind and not the fuzzy blue ones, I built a ventilation system. There was already a couple of AC ducts in the spaces that I had included in the bunker. It was a down and dirty version of what I had seen diagramed but I felt it would work as long as I was careful. The weak point of our bunker was the block glass window in the bathroom. I’d already covered the outside of the house where the bathroom was with sandbags and luckily it was in the back of the house so it wasn’t easily seen. On the inside where the drop down shutter had been before I removed it I simply screwed in place several air conditioning drip pans one on top of the other … those pans the AC units sit in to prevent water damage in case they leak … and then covered that with two sheets of the thickest plywood I had been able to salvage. I reset the shutter but had to use a two by four to attach the hinges to so that the shutter would lay flat against the new material. Not perfect but not bad I think.
Part 6 -5
I was losing weight. I knew it but no matter how much fat I tried to add to my diet I would work the calories off faster than I could ingest them. Someone looking at me would have said that I was “all baby” and the baby in question was riding very, very low. I knew I didn’t have much time left. I explained to Nydia the best I could what was going to happen soon but it meant very little to her. All she could understand was that the baby would be here soon.
I went into overdrive. I hauled in three more water heaters for water storage and would have brought in a couple more but there simply wasn’t room. I did refill the waterbob in the tub with water from the well and that gave us another 100 gallons which meant we could at least use the wash pan I had put in the shower stall every once in a while without guilt … at least I hoped so.
I took down and reversed our solar security lights so that while the panels were still outside on the back of the house, the wires ran inside the house providing lights to a makeshift greenhouse. I had no idea if that would work but I figured it was worth a try since the bulbs in them were the new fluorescent bulbs required by the Green Codes.
I also took the time to build a homemade fallout meter that I found in some papers that Mateo had copied from a PDF he found on the internet. I saw his tightly scrawled notes in the sidelines suggesting common materials that would match what was called for in the diagram. It is called a Kearney Fallout Meter or KFM and I haven’t a clue if the thing really works or not despite the fact that I followed the instructions for building it to the last jot and tittle.
Nydia and I spent as much time outdoors as we did in. Anything that even remotely could be considered food I would collect and try to preserve for storage. I brought all of my herbs in and hung them on strings throughout the whole house. It dispersed the musty odor that had begun to creep into every corner; I think it was primarily because of the sand bags. As I noticed new plants being ready to harvest I felt blessed that I could add some new items to our diet. My little fig trees were producing a bumper crop, the more I picked the more that ripened. The pumpkins and winter squash that I had all but given up on gave me a small crop and I only lost two to some kind of varmint before I figured out how to cage them off with narrow rabbit wire cages on spikes that were run into the ground.
I set an animal trap out there thinking it was something coming up out of the swamp like a raccoon or a rat but when I went out the next day I found it to be a good sized wild rabbit. I hid it quickly from Nydia so she wouldn’t refuse to eat “Thumper” and dinner that night included the first fresh meat that we’d had in months. I kicked myself for having not tried this before and for several mornings running I found something highly irritated at being caught to make a pot of stew with. It felt like I had plugged a hole and both Nydia and I ate like a couple of pigs while it lasted.
My bush beans were beginning their die-and-dry phase and rather than worry that they would mildew because of how wet the weather had turned I pulled whole plants up out of the pots they had been growing in and hung them upside down by their roots on clothes line that I strung in the garage. In that oven like atmosphere it didn’t take them long to dry out and I pulled the pods off and threw them in onion bags and hung them up in our shelter.
My limes, lemons and limons I pulled and spent a whole night preserving flesh, juice, and peel over a hot fire on the outdoor grill. For some reason my canning pears hadn’t done very well, probably from the constant shock of the bombing in the area plus the funky weather we’d been having but I did manage to get a few before they rotted from their blossom end. In fact a lot of the domestic fruit was doing poorly while the wild or indigenous varieties did much better. The problem was the domestic fruits were better for preserving and the wild fruit was much better for eating fresh.
My grapes only produced a few small bunches. I fed most of them to Nydia in her meals since I already had a lot of raisins in our food storage. The handful of fresh grapes that I ate nearly crossed my eyes with their tartness. The pineapples that came up were smaller than in years past but beggars can’t be choosers. The guava tree was nothing but a runt to begin with so the lone fruit off of it wasn’t much of a surprise but I was disappointed that my carambola tree hadn’t done better; I love star fruit and had gotten a bumper crops in the past.
It went on like that … soursops and governor’s plums did well, pomegranate bushes only so-so … my pitomba and acerola wouldn’t stop producing while the papaya and mango trees just wouldn’t cooperate after their first big push … I almost had to run to keep up with how fast the kudzu was growing but nearly missed the one lone small bunch of green grapes that hid amongst the vines on the arbor … the ratty wild blackberries gave me gallon after gallon of berries while my blueberry shrubs were pretty and green but fruitless.
One late afternoon, while rain pelted the windows, I sat down and figured it all out. I could stop right there and between what we had in food storage and the fresh stuff I had been bringing in I thought that Nydia and I could last a good 18 months, longer if we were able to survive on whole grains and dried beans alone. We might not be our healthiest at the end of that time period but it could be done so long as I could breast feed the baby. But on the other hand that would also be close to suicidal because there was no guarantee that I could restock before everything was used up; things might not be back to normal – I already doubted they would be in my lifetime – a garden could fail or any number of other problems. So even though I was dead dog tired I traipsed out back and Nydia and I began to drag the container garden in one more time while what little light came through the still very cloudy sky faded to nothing. Not even the moon did more but occasionally peep out for a few seconds here and there.
We had brought the last pot in when Nydia took it into her head that she wanted to play. It was definitely too dark to play safely and I wanted her to come inside and get ready for bed … we’d started sleeping in the shelter full time despite how hot and stuffy it could get. She on the other hand had something completely different in mind. She knew I wasn’t exactly light on my feet and was teasing me by playing her version of tag-your-it and squealing in delight when I would miss her. She finally made the mistake of getting too close, or I got lucky, and I grabbed her around the middle and held tight. I opened my mouth to let her have it when it was like an enormous spotlight had been focused on the front of the house. The house created a gigantic shadow that we stood in the middle of but we still had to cover our eyes.
I was losing weight. I knew it but no matter how much fat I tried to add to my diet I would work the calories off faster than I could ingest them. Someone looking at me would have said that I was “all baby” and the baby in question was riding very, very low. I knew I didn’t have much time left. I explained to Nydia the best I could what was going to happen soon but it meant very little to her. All she could understand was that the baby would be here soon.
I went into overdrive. I hauled in three more water heaters for water storage and would have brought in a couple more but there simply wasn’t room. I did refill the waterbob in the tub with water from the well and that gave us another 100 gallons which meant we could at least use the wash pan I had put in the shower stall every once in a while without guilt … at least I hoped so.
I took down and reversed our solar security lights so that while the panels were still outside on the back of the house, the wires ran inside the house providing lights to a makeshift greenhouse. I had no idea if that would work but I figured it was worth a try since the bulbs in them were the new fluorescent bulbs required by the Green Codes.
I also took the time to build a homemade fallout meter that I found in some papers that Mateo had copied from a PDF he found on the internet. I saw his tightly scrawled notes in the sidelines suggesting common materials that would match what was called for in the diagram. It is called a Kearney Fallout Meter or KFM and I haven’t a clue if the thing really works or not despite the fact that I followed the instructions for building it to the last jot and tittle.
Nydia and I spent as much time outdoors as we did in. Anything that even remotely could be considered food I would collect and try to preserve for storage. I brought all of my herbs in and hung them on strings throughout the whole house. It dispersed the musty odor that had begun to creep into every corner; I think it was primarily because of the sand bags. As I noticed new plants being ready to harvest I felt blessed that I could add some new items to our diet. My little fig trees were producing a bumper crop, the more I picked the more that ripened. The pumpkins and winter squash that I had all but given up on gave me a small crop and I only lost two to some kind of varmint before I figured out how to cage them off with narrow rabbit wire cages on spikes that were run into the ground.
I set an animal trap out there thinking it was something coming up out of the swamp like a raccoon or a rat but when I went out the next day I found it to be a good sized wild rabbit. I hid it quickly from Nydia so she wouldn’t refuse to eat “Thumper” and dinner that night included the first fresh meat that we’d had in months. I kicked myself for having not tried this before and for several mornings running I found something highly irritated at being caught to make a pot of stew with. It felt like I had plugged a hole and both Nydia and I ate like a couple of pigs while it lasted.
My bush beans were beginning their die-and-dry phase and rather than worry that they would mildew because of how wet the weather had turned I pulled whole plants up out of the pots they had been growing in and hung them upside down by their roots on clothes line that I strung in the garage. In that oven like atmosphere it didn’t take them long to dry out and I pulled the pods off and threw them in onion bags and hung them up in our shelter.
My limes, lemons and limons I pulled and spent a whole night preserving flesh, juice, and peel over a hot fire on the outdoor grill. For some reason my canning pears hadn’t done very well, probably from the constant shock of the bombing in the area plus the funky weather we’d been having but I did manage to get a few before they rotted from their blossom end. In fact a lot of the domestic fruit was doing poorly while the wild or indigenous varieties did much better. The problem was the domestic fruits were better for preserving and the wild fruit was much better for eating fresh.
My grapes only produced a few small bunches. I fed most of them to Nydia in her meals since I already had a lot of raisins in our food storage. The handful of fresh grapes that I ate nearly crossed my eyes with their tartness. The pineapples that came up were smaller than in years past but beggars can’t be choosers. The guava tree was nothing but a runt to begin with so the lone fruit off of it wasn’t much of a surprise but I was disappointed that my carambola tree hadn’t done better; I love star fruit and had gotten a bumper crops in the past.
It went on like that … soursops and governor’s plums did well, pomegranate bushes only so-so … my pitomba and acerola wouldn’t stop producing while the papaya and mango trees just wouldn’t cooperate after their first big push … I almost had to run to keep up with how fast the kudzu was growing but nearly missed the one lone small bunch of green grapes that hid amongst the vines on the arbor … the ratty wild blackberries gave me gallon after gallon of berries while my blueberry shrubs were pretty and green but fruitless.
One late afternoon, while rain pelted the windows, I sat down and figured it all out. I could stop right there and between what we had in food storage and the fresh stuff I had been bringing in I thought that Nydia and I could last a good 18 months, longer if we were able to survive on whole grains and dried beans alone. We might not be our healthiest at the end of that time period but it could be done so long as I could breast feed the baby. But on the other hand that would also be close to suicidal because there was no guarantee that I could restock before everything was used up; things might not be back to normal – I already doubted they would be in my lifetime – a garden could fail or any number of other problems. So even though I was dead dog tired I traipsed out back and Nydia and I began to drag the container garden in one more time while what little light came through the still very cloudy sky faded to nothing. Not even the moon did more but occasionally peep out for a few seconds here and there.
We had brought the last pot in when Nydia took it into her head that she wanted to play. It was definitely too dark to play safely and I wanted her to come inside and get ready for bed … we’d started sleeping in the shelter full time despite how hot and stuffy it could get. She on the other hand had something completely different in mind. She knew I wasn’t exactly light on my feet and was teasing me by playing her version of tag-your-it and squealing in delight when I would miss her. She finally made the mistake of getting too close, or I got lucky, and I grabbed her around the middle and held tight. I opened my mouth to let her have it when it was like an enormous spotlight had been focused on the front of the house. The house created a gigantic shadow that we stood in the middle of but we still had to cover our eyes.
Part 6 -6
Nydia screamed in fright and on instinct I covered her eyes with my hand dropped to the ground with her under me. I smelled something that reminded me of scorched boiled greens and knew that it was no spotlight. I counted off ten seconds then cracked my eyes a little only to find that the night seemed even darker than it had before.
I got to my feet and still protecting Nydia and my stomach the best I could we got to the house doing a fair imitation of a couple of deformed crabs. Entering our shelter from above was no longer optimal after I laid the aluminum panels and sandbags on the floor upstairs so I had built a new entry way. I wrenched the stove away from the wall revealing a crawl space that I really hated.
Trying to deal with a nearly frozen Nydia I told her in a jovial voice, “Come on Alice, in the rabbit hole you go.” I gave her a gentle push to start her and as soon as I saw that she was crawling to the living space I told her, “Get your dolly and Nonny will be there in just a moment love.”
I stood up and there was a terrible wrenching pain across my back. I thought I had pulled a muscle at some point but I couldn’t let it stop me. I dropped the security doors back down over the French door and then slid a wooden box I had built in front of the glass. I took straps and strung them through eye bolts crisscrossing them as I went. When I was finished the wooden box looked like an alien shoe with odd laces. It was the best I could come up with to try and secure the last exterior opening on the house.
I kept waiting for a blast or shock wave but when it finally came it merely buffeted the house a little like a minor hurricane wind, not at all like what I was expecting. I looked around one last time, beginning to shake, and realized there was nothing more that I could do. I backed into the “rabbit hole” and manhandled the stove back in place. As I backed down the narrow entrance I realized there was light coming from some place behind me and when I was able to sit up I saw that Nydia had been aiming her little flashlight into the tunnel trying to guide me in.
I grabbed her and kissed her and we held each other for several minutes. The shock was wearing off and Nydia started to cry and then it started getting worse. I had planned for this as well. I washed her face and finally coaxed her to drink a small glass of juice. Hidden in the juice was some cold medicine that never failed to make her groggy. I rocked her and made up a story of some silly princess searching for a prince that could bake the perfect cookie. She grew calmer and eventually sleepy. She was fully asleep in twenty minutes. I undressed her and put her in her bed but it was no easy task; my back shrieked again in protest.
I didn’t know what else to do. Everything was clean and in its place. It would be hours before I dared considered preparing a meal. Nydia, for her own good, was asleep so I didn’t have her as a distraction. I finally sat at our makeshift table and put my heads in my hands and simply started praying. I don’t know how long it was before I realized that every time my back would sing out my stomach would tense and it was some time past that that I allowed myself to accept the reality that I was really and truly in labor.
I don’t know whether it was the shock of the event or whether it was coincidental to something that was bound to happen anyway but rather than be hysterical at the prospects of what I was about to endure a strange calmness settled over me. I got the stop watch out of my labor items and was gratified to find that contrary to my fears generated by some of the things I had read, an EMP had not stopped it from working. Of course the fact that I had stored the few electronic items that I was most worried about inside an old microwave oven could have helped as well. I had read it in some fiction book when I was growing up and it had always stuck in my head. Hopefully I’ll live to find out whether I was smart or lucky.
With the stop watch I could tell that my contractions were nowhere near regular. The first two I timed were only three minutes apart, then it jumped to fifteen minutes then to five then to eight then back down to four. I went nearly three hours of this before they settled in at five minutes apart and holding. When I had first started timing them I just sat at the table but my stomach would push against the table during a contraction and it felt like my pelvis was splitting so I thought to lay down to see if that helped. That actually made it worse because my back began to ache and I got nauseous. I finally got up and simply started pacing the shelter as quietly as I could. Every once in a while a good strong contraction would have me leaning on something trying to get the pressure to leave my back alone.
If any male ever reads this journal I’m sure this next part may turn him a little green and if it does just too bad. It takes two to make a baby, it should take two to have one. But Mateo isn’t here so I can only hope that I’m turning someone a little green down the road in mild retribution for having to go through this all by myself.
The books had said to not become a slave to the stop watch, stay hydrated and to try and relax. Well personally during the middle of a couple of those contractions I could have gleefully slapped whoever wrote the silly books. For every glass of water I drank I had to go to the bathroom three times and relaxing was completely out of the question. I wasn’t hysterical I was just … well when you are worried that your world is about to end in a thermonuclear conflagration it isn’t exactly easy to relax.
One time I didn’t make it to the bathroom before my legs were covered in a mucusy wetness. I noted the date and time that my water broke in a medical chart I had started to keep track of things in case it got so bad I lost my place in what was supposed to come next. Let me tell you after that it felt like the baby was using a sledge hammer on my lower parts during every contraction. I got nauseous all over again and spent some time having contractions while I worshipped at the porcelain throne.
I fell into a rhythm – walk, trying to think of good things and good times, that creeping feeling when the contraction starts, then hold on and try and breath through sensation that peeks to pain and then gradually releases, catch my breath and then start walking again. That lasted until the contractions started getting closer to two minutes apart and that’s when it felt like I was being turned inside out with every contraction.
I guess that is what they called the “transition phase.” That is an understatement designed to fool the unwary. I would have given just about anything to have another adult with me during that time. It hurt so bad I was scared. I crawled into the bathroom dragging the bag of stuff that Mateo and I had started gathering back … too long ago. My emotions are still right at the surface and its better if I don’t think about it too much.
I don’t know how long transition lasted; it could have been minutes, it could have been hours. I couldn’t tell, it was dark and I kept losing track of things as I went somewhere else to try and concentrate around the pain.
Up to that point I’d been doing pretty good about being quiet. The last thing I needed was a frightened child to deal with. But surprisingly that isn’t what I got.
I came back to myself after a particularly bad contraction, it felt like it lasted a lifetime, to feel a damp wash rag being put on my forehead.
“Nydia, please … gooooo … oooo … go back to bed darling. Nonny … Nonny is … hmmmmmm … is just not feeling so … ooooooo.”
“Is it the baby Nonny? Is the baby trying to come out of your tummy?” Maybe she had internalized some of the things I had explained to her.
Breathing deeply as I could, already feeling another contraction building I whimpered, “Please Nydia, go lay back down for …. ooooo ….” I didn’t get to finish what I was saying before I was carried off again by the pain.
I picked that moment to start crying, though thank goodness I wasn’t sobbing very hard. “Poor Nonny. Poor Nonny. That baby is bad.”
I tried to tell her it wasn’t the baby it was that I’d never had a baby before and wasn’t sure whether I was doing it right. Where on earth that came from I don’t know but it seemed to make sense to her childish mind. “Oh … like riding a bike?”
That did get a snort of laughter from me but that was probably the last coherent thing I did for a while. I was starting to feel the urge to push which meant I needed to get dressed … or undressed as the case was … to facilitate things. I also crawled into the shower stall. Nydia didn’t understand this and I wasn’t about to explain about the blood and fluid even had I had the breath to do it.
I finally wound up on my hands and knees rocking through the worst of it. It felt like my insides were bulging out where they had no business bulging out from. Suddenly I needed to sit up and I did so with surprisingly little effort. This baby wanted out and it was giving me the wherewithal to do it.
No man is every going to be able to understand the sensation but it is something like trying to blow a watermelon out of a drinking straw. I’d read all the warnings about breathing through the contractions so that you won’t tear your perineum. I had some grotesque picture in my mind of being ripped open so no matter how badly I wanted to push hard every other contraction I tried to not give in. The stinging finally caused me to shriek.
“Nonny!!!”
But I couldn’t calm her down. I’d felt the baby’s head leave my body. I did what the book said and tried to feel if the cord was around the neck but all I felt was slippery baby and then the next contraction hit me and it felt like Godzilla was trying to crawl out of my body. After that it went very quickly. So quickly I nearly didn’t catch him before he hit the floor.
I slid back against the wall of the shower ultimately wind up laying flat on my back with the baby on my stomach. I scrabbled around in the bag and found the sucker thing and got all of the gunk out of his nose and mouth and let me tell you, that was something he did not in the least appreciate. I would have given anything to just lay there but I couldn’t because it wasn’t over yet.
I had to clamp the umbilical cord in two places and then cut it. By then I was feeling the urge to push again but it was a different kind of push. This was where the placenta came out. I haven’t run a fever or bled to excess so I’m going to assume it all came out and nothing has been left inside me to become septic.
I was in the middle of trying to take care of myself when the cheeky little devil latched on for the first time. Babies without teeth should not bite but it’s been a real trip to convince him that he should have better manners than what he does.
Nydia was just as in shock as I was but she still went and got my clothes and some of my women’s things while I cleaned up myself, the baby, and the shower stall. The shower stall was the least of my worries so all I did was give it a rinse while I cleaned myself up and told Nydia to stay out of it until I could do a better job. I did have the presence of mind to pour a little vinegar down the drain but that was the extent of what I could do at that point. I bagged and tied the placenta and then sealed it in a bucket I’d found the presence of mine to station near while I was stocking the shelter.
I was sore and had gone from a feeling of unbelievable euphoria to one of complete exhaustion. I’d lost all track of time and there was no way for me to tell whether it was day or night. I had no idea what was going on outside but I didn’t smell smoke – all I really smelled was my own lack of deodorant. For all I knew the house could have fallen on top of us. I still don’t know for sure but it would seem that I would have noticed a problem with the ceiling if it had.
I pointed Nydia in the direction of the tote that held some food that she could get into … mostly leftovers from the care-packages and some stale packages of crackers and pretzels that I’d been hiding for a long time for just this eventuality. I told her she could count out three items and use one of the plastic spoons and napkin packages in there as well, and that she was to put her trash in the ziploc bag in the tote when she was finished and to wipe her hands with the baby wipes. After that she could open the present I had for her in there.
“Present?!”
“Yes. You are a big sister now and I thought it would be … be … goodness I’m sorry for yawning in your face Sweetie but Nonny is very, very tired. Play with your present and let Nonny rest for a little while. OK? And don’t go out … don’t …” Looking at me with huge eyes she shook her head emphatically and said she would stay right here.
After she assured herself that all was well she got her snacks and I watched her through slitted eyes until she finished and woke up briefly at her squeal of delight to find a box of odds and ends that I had actually been saving for her good behavior treasure box, something we used to do before everything fell apart. Crayons, a small coloring book, a small stuffed animal, a new outfit and bottle for her dolly, a couple of packages of sugarless safety pops, and a few other little odds and ends kept her enthralled and let me get my first real sleep in a while.
“Nonny … Nonny … he’s snorting like a pig. I think he’s hungry.”
My eyes popped open and indeed it did sound like I had a piglet rooting around in the bed with me. That was the start of our new routine. Nydia would watch fascinated while the baby nursed and then I would pay some attention to her and then I would move around and try to keep some semblance of cleanliness and order in our shelter.
Sanitation has been my primary challenge. Cleaning the shower stall required more water than I had anticipated but it was still better than had I been forced to deal with lot of bloody bedding. And macho man’s diapers are no treat either. It has been almost three weeks and I’m nearly out of the disposable ones … and the space to deal with the used ones.
Lack of sunlight is beginning to affect us, Nydia worse than me. I give her the same liquid vitamins that I horded for the baby but it just isn’t as good as the real thing. I just don’t know what to do.
See, I’m in a quandry. I can’t positively say that it is safe to go out or not. The KFM … the radiation meter … has never come off of zero. I don’t understand it. There was the bright flash of light from the south. That’s the right direction for MacDill. Then there was … well, I guess it was anyway … the concussion or percussion … well, it was the blast wave from whatever it was. It stirred things up pretty good but nothing like I expected it to. The trees whipped and sawed, the wind was fierce, but no buildings were knocked down, it didn’t even rip off any of our shingles as far as I could tell. I didn’t hear any windows breaking. The house didn’t creak and grown like it was thinking about falling over. Nothing makes sense.
But I also have a problem. I can’t get any radio reception. I don’t know if that means that there are no signals to receive or if it is because of all of the dirt and stuff all around our shelter.
I’m scared to death to make the wrong decision. If it was just me I’d risk it with no question. But there is the baby and Nydia to consider. Why should they suffer from my decision? But on the other hand we have to know because we can’t stay hidden here forever. Sanitation is a problem and we are using water faster than I expected as well. Lack of light will also make us all sick pretty soon too.
One week. I’m giving it one more week. When that week is up … I’ll face it when it gets here. For now, all we have are these walls between us and possible doom.
Nydia screamed in fright and on instinct I covered her eyes with my hand dropped to the ground with her under me. I smelled something that reminded me of scorched boiled greens and knew that it was no spotlight. I counted off ten seconds then cracked my eyes a little only to find that the night seemed even darker than it had before.
I got to my feet and still protecting Nydia and my stomach the best I could we got to the house doing a fair imitation of a couple of deformed crabs. Entering our shelter from above was no longer optimal after I laid the aluminum panels and sandbags on the floor upstairs so I had built a new entry way. I wrenched the stove away from the wall revealing a crawl space that I really hated.
Trying to deal with a nearly frozen Nydia I told her in a jovial voice, “Come on Alice, in the rabbit hole you go.” I gave her a gentle push to start her and as soon as I saw that she was crawling to the living space I told her, “Get your dolly and Nonny will be there in just a moment love.”
I stood up and there was a terrible wrenching pain across my back. I thought I had pulled a muscle at some point but I couldn’t let it stop me. I dropped the security doors back down over the French door and then slid a wooden box I had built in front of the glass. I took straps and strung them through eye bolts crisscrossing them as I went. When I was finished the wooden box looked like an alien shoe with odd laces. It was the best I could come up with to try and secure the last exterior opening on the house.
I kept waiting for a blast or shock wave but when it finally came it merely buffeted the house a little like a minor hurricane wind, not at all like what I was expecting. I looked around one last time, beginning to shake, and realized there was nothing more that I could do. I backed into the “rabbit hole” and manhandled the stove back in place. As I backed down the narrow entrance I realized there was light coming from some place behind me and when I was able to sit up I saw that Nydia had been aiming her little flashlight into the tunnel trying to guide me in.
I grabbed her and kissed her and we held each other for several minutes. The shock was wearing off and Nydia started to cry and then it started getting worse. I had planned for this as well. I washed her face and finally coaxed her to drink a small glass of juice. Hidden in the juice was some cold medicine that never failed to make her groggy. I rocked her and made up a story of some silly princess searching for a prince that could bake the perfect cookie. She grew calmer and eventually sleepy. She was fully asleep in twenty minutes. I undressed her and put her in her bed but it was no easy task; my back shrieked again in protest.
I didn’t know what else to do. Everything was clean and in its place. It would be hours before I dared considered preparing a meal. Nydia, for her own good, was asleep so I didn’t have her as a distraction. I finally sat at our makeshift table and put my heads in my hands and simply started praying. I don’t know how long it was before I realized that every time my back would sing out my stomach would tense and it was some time past that that I allowed myself to accept the reality that I was really and truly in labor.
I don’t know whether it was the shock of the event or whether it was coincidental to something that was bound to happen anyway but rather than be hysterical at the prospects of what I was about to endure a strange calmness settled over me. I got the stop watch out of my labor items and was gratified to find that contrary to my fears generated by some of the things I had read, an EMP had not stopped it from working. Of course the fact that I had stored the few electronic items that I was most worried about inside an old microwave oven could have helped as well. I had read it in some fiction book when I was growing up and it had always stuck in my head. Hopefully I’ll live to find out whether I was smart or lucky.
With the stop watch I could tell that my contractions were nowhere near regular. The first two I timed were only three minutes apart, then it jumped to fifteen minutes then to five then to eight then back down to four. I went nearly three hours of this before they settled in at five minutes apart and holding. When I had first started timing them I just sat at the table but my stomach would push against the table during a contraction and it felt like my pelvis was splitting so I thought to lay down to see if that helped. That actually made it worse because my back began to ache and I got nauseous. I finally got up and simply started pacing the shelter as quietly as I could. Every once in a while a good strong contraction would have me leaning on something trying to get the pressure to leave my back alone.
If any male ever reads this journal I’m sure this next part may turn him a little green and if it does just too bad. It takes two to make a baby, it should take two to have one. But Mateo isn’t here so I can only hope that I’m turning someone a little green down the road in mild retribution for having to go through this all by myself.
The books had said to not become a slave to the stop watch, stay hydrated and to try and relax. Well personally during the middle of a couple of those contractions I could have gleefully slapped whoever wrote the silly books. For every glass of water I drank I had to go to the bathroom three times and relaxing was completely out of the question. I wasn’t hysterical I was just … well when you are worried that your world is about to end in a thermonuclear conflagration it isn’t exactly easy to relax.
One time I didn’t make it to the bathroom before my legs were covered in a mucusy wetness. I noted the date and time that my water broke in a medical chart I had started to keep track of things in case it got so bad I lost my place in what was supposed to come next. Let me tell you after that it felt like the baby was using a sledge hammer on my lower parts during every contraction. I got nauseous all over again and spent some time having contractions while I worshipped at the porcelain throne.
I fell into a rhythm – walk, trying to think of good things and good times, that creeping feeling when the contraction starts, then hold on and try and breath through sensation that peeks to pain and then gradually releases, catch my breath and then start walking again. That lasted until the contractions started getting closer to two minutes apart and that’s when it felt like I was being turned inside out with every contraction.
I guess that is what they called the “transition phase.” That is an understatement designed to fool the unwary. I would have given just about anything to have another adult with me during that time. It hurt so bad I was scared. I crawled into the bathroom dragging the bag of stuff that Mateo and I had started gathering back … too long ago. My emotions are still right at the surface and its better if I don’t think about it too much.
I don’t know how long transition lasted; it could have been minutes, it could have been hours. I couldn’t tell, it was dark and I kept losing track of things as I went somewhere else to try and concentrate around the pain.
Up to that point I’d been doing pretty good about being quiet. The last thing I needed was a frightened child to deal with. But surprisingly that isn’t what I got.
I came back to myself after a particularly bad contraction, it felt like it lasted a lifetime, to feel a damp wash rag being put on my forehead.
“Nydia, please … gooooo … oooo … go back to bed darling. Nonny … Nonny is … hmmmmmm … is just not feeling so … ooooooo.”
“Is it the baby Nonny? Is the baby trying to come out of your tummy?” Maybe she had internalized some of the things I had explained to her.
Breathing deeply as I could, already feeling another contraction building I whimpered, “Please Nydia, go lay back down for …. ooooo ….” I didn’t get to finish what I was saying before I was carried off again by the pain.
I picked that moment to start crying, though thank goodness I wasn’t sobbing very hard. “Poor Nonny. Poor Nonny. That baby is bad.”
I tried to tell her it wasn’t the baby it was that I’d never had a baby before and wasn’t sure whether I was doing it right. Where on earth that came from I don’t know but it seemed to make sense to her childish mind. “Oh … like riding a bike?”
That did get a snort of laughter from me but that was probably the last coherent thing I did for a while. I was starting to feel the urge to push which meant I needed to get dressed … or undressed as the case was … to facilitate things. I also crawled into the shower stall. Nydia didn’t understand this and I wasn’t about to explain about the blood and fluid even had I had the breath to do it.
I finally wound up on my hands and knees rocking through the worst of it. It felt like my insides were bulging out where they had no business bulging out from. Suddenly I needed to sit up and I did so with surprisingly little effort. This baby wanted out and it was giving me the wherewithal to do it.
No man is every going to be able to understand the sensation but it is something like trying to blow a watermelon out of a drinking straw. I’d read all the warnings about breathing through the contractions so that you won’t tear your perineum. I had some grotesque picture in my mind of being ripped open so no matter how badly I wanted to push hard every other contraction I tried to not give in. The stinging finally caused me to shriek.
“Nonny!!!”
But I couldn’t calm her down. I’d felt the baby’s head leave my body. I did what the book said and tried to feel if the cord was around the neck but all I felt was slippery baby and then the next contraction hit me and it felt like Godzilla was trying to crawl out of my body. After that it went very quickly. So quickly I nearly didn’t catch him before he hit the floor.
I slid back against the wall of the shower ultimately wind up laying flat on my back with the baby on my stomach. I scrabbled around in the bag and found the sucker thing and got all of the gunk out of his nose and mouth and let me tell you, that was something he did not in the least appreciate. I would have given anything to just lay there but I couldn’t because it wasn’t over yet.
I had to clamp the umbilical cord in two places and then cut it. By then I was feeling the urge to push again but it was a different kind of push. This was where the placenta came out. I haven’t run a fever or bled to excess so I’m going to assume it all came out and nothing has been left inside me to become septic.
I was in the middle of trying to take care of myself when the cheeky little devil latched on for the first time. Babies without teeth should not bite but it’s been a real trip to convince him that he should have better manners than what he does.
Nydia was just as in shock as I was but she still went and got my clothes and some of my women’s things while I cleaned up myself, the baby, and the shower stall. The shower stall was the least of my worries so all I did was give it a rinse while I cleaned myself up and told Nydia to stay out of it until I could do a better job. I did have the presence of mind to pour a little vinegar down the drain but that was the extent of what I could do at that point. I bagged and tied the placenta and then sealed it in a bucket I’d found the presence of mine to station near while I was stocking the shelter.
I was sore and had gone from a feeling of unbelievable euphoria to one of complete exhaustion. I’d lost all track of time and there was no way for me to tell whether it was day or night. I had no idea what was going on outside but I didn’t smell smoke – all I really smelled was my own lack of deodorant. For all I knew the house could have fallen on top of us. I still don’t know for sure but it would seem that I would have noticed a problem with the ceiling if it had.
I pointed Nydia in the direction of the tote that held some food that she could get into … mostly leftovers from the care-packages and some stale packages of crackers and pretzels that I’d been hiding for a long time for just this eventuality. I told her she could count out three items and use one of the plastic spoons and napkin packages in there as well, and that she was to put her trash in the ziploc bag in the tote when she was finished and to wipe her hands with the baby wipes. After that she could open the present I had for her in there.
“Present?!”
“Yes. You are a big sister now and I thought it would be … be … goodness I’m sorry for yawning in your face Sweetie but Nonny is very, very tired. Play with your present and let Nonny rest for a little while. OK? And don’t go out … don’t …” Looking at me with huge eyes she shook her head emphatically and said she would stay right here.
After she assured herself that all was well she got her snacks and I watched her through slitted eyes until she finished and woke up briefly at her squeal of delight to find a box of odds and ends that I had actually been saving for her good behavior treasure box, something we used to do before everything fell apart. Crayons, a small coloring book, a small stuffed animal, a new outfit and bottle for her dolly, a couple of packages of sugarless safety pops, and a few other little odds and ends kept her enthralled and let me get my first real sleep in a while.
“Nonny … Nonny … he’s snorting like a pig. I think he’s hungry.”
My eyes popped open and indeed it did sound like I had a piglet rooting around in the bed with me. That was the start of our new routine. Nydia would watch fascinated while the baby nursed and then I would pay some attention to her and then I would move around and try to keep some semblance of cleanliness and order in our shelter.
Sanitation has been my primary challenge. Cleaning the shower stall required more water than I had anticipated but it was still better than had I been forced to deal with lot of bloody bedding. And macho man’s diapers are no treat either. It has been almost three weeks and I’m nearly out of the disposable ones … and the space to deal with the used ones.
Lack of sunlight is beginning to affect us, Nydia worse than me. I give her the same liquid vitamins that I horded for the baby but it just isn’t as good as the real thing. I just don’t know what to do.
See, I’m in a quandry. I can’t positively say that it is safe to go out or not. The KFM … the radiation meter … has never come off of zero. I don’t understand it. There was the bright flash of light from the south. That’s the right direction for MacDill. Then there was … well, I guess it was anyway … the concussion or percussion … well, it was the blast wave from whatever it was. It stirred things up pretty good but nothing like I expected it to. The trees whipped and sawed, the wind was fierce, but no buildings were knocked down, it didn’t even rip off any of our shingles as far as I could tell. I didn’t hear any windows breaking. The house didn’t creak and grown like it was thinking about falling over. Nothing makes sense.
But I also have a problem. I can’t get any radio reception. I don’t know if that means that there are no signals to receive or if it is because of all of the dirt and stuff all around our shelter.
I’m scared to death to make the wrong decision. If it was just me I’d risk it with no question. But there is the baby and Nydia to consider. Why should they suffer from my decision? But on the other hand we have to know because we can’t stay hidden here forever. Sanitation is a problem and we are using water faster than I expected as well. Lack of light will also make us all sick pretty soon too.
One week. I’m giving it one more week. When that week is up … I’ll face it when it gets here. For now, all we have are these walls between us and possible doom.
Part Seven: And All the King’s Men - 1
You’ve heard of writer’s block? We’ll I’ve had survivor’s block. Life has been … surreal. I hate using that word; it is so trite and meaningless almost because of how much it has been overused. But that is the only word I can think of to describe how things have been.
One week I told myself, just one week. Surely I could hold on that long just to be sure, absolutely sure, that it was safe to go out. So of course logically I didn’t even last three days before I had to get out of my personal hobbit hole or go stark raving crazy.
I knew I was taking a chance - a huge one - but I couldn’t wait any longer. All of the logic in the world couldn’t change the fact that I needed fresh water, fresh air, and sunlight and so did Nydia and Neeno (Nydia’s nickname for the baby). Nope, I hadn’t named the baby yet. Every time I thought I just had to sit down and do it, all I could see was Mateo’s face and I broke down. I know it didn’t make sense but that is the way it was. I couldn’t name him Mateo Jr.; it hurts too badly and I don’t think Nydia would handle it well. She wanted to call him Angel which is a Spanish male name but for some reason I just couldn’t do it, not without Mateo. I knew he needed a name but for a while Neeno was all we needed. It’s not like there was anyone to record his birth.
More than the water, air, and light I mentally needed “out.” It smelled really bad in our hole. I knew it but my brain had kind of turned my nose off so that we could survive. At the first whiff of fresh air though I nearly gagged when I realized how bad our living quarters really smelled. I left Nydia and Neeno behind as I crawled through the “tunnel” and pushed the stove out of the way and climbed out and into the kitchen.
Everything was dark and silent. I had a moment of disorientation, almost like an attack of agoraphobia, before I got my bearings. I turned on the wind up flashlight and looked around. Some of my plants had suffered even though I had tried to set up a “greenhouse” but some of them looked like they were OK … not great, but OK. The house was humid and dank and I could see mildew beginning to grow in a few places. I knew I would have to deal with that soon enough but I was more interested in seeing if there was a world left outside. But first I pulled out the KFM and set it up.
No reading on the KFM so again I wondered if I had put it together correctly. I was just about ready to pull the first panel down and see what was going on outside when there was a horrible BOOM!! I nearly panicked and ran back into the tunnel but then that noise was followed by … rain. Lots and lots of rain from the sound of it.
I nearly fainted in relief.
“Nonny!!” came the plaintive cry from the tunnel.
“Stay inside Nydia. It is just a thunderstorm. Give me time to check things out.”
“Hurry Nonny! Neeno is scared.”
It wasn’t Neeno that was scared, it was Nydia. It took time but I removed the last covering I installed and tried to look out but all I saw was blackness. It didn’t make sense. Cautiously I opened the door and walked out into … the night. Somehow during our time in our shelter I’d managed to lose enough time that I’d gotten our “days” and “nights” mixed up. The rain fell in torrents so exploring was impossible but I did feel a definite chill off of the rain that signaled a change in weather was coming.
I tried to see beyond the screen cage that surrounded the pool and lanai but the night and storm was impenetrable. But the air was fresh and I went back to the shelter and got Nydia and the baby and let them sit in the open house for a while. The rain, despite its fierceness was soothing and soon we all three dozed. Neeno’s demands woke me up in time to see the first pinkish rays of sunlight creeping into the sky. It was definitely cooler than it had been but I figured it was just an early cool snap.
I had to crawl back into the “shelter” to get to our supplies and I vowed it would be the last time I had to do it quite that way. As soon as Nydia and the baby were taken care of I cleaned up in the family room – thank goodness for ceramic tile floors – and laid a relatively clean blanket on the floor. Nydia played, Neeno slept, and I checked over the house since I was still somewhat afraid of going outside. It would take some time but it looked like all that the house needed was a serious cleaning. Everything would need to be scrubbed because of the mildew that was trying to take hold here and there but I knew with enough elbow grease I could get rid of it.
After the house I had to force myself to try the outside again. I didn’t get it. I’d been cooped up so long that I was going stir crazy. I broke the one week wait promise that I had made myself because I needed out. Now I was out and every time I got near an exterior door or window I got the heeby-jeebies. It didn’t make the least bit of sense to me at the time.
I pulled the covering off the door to the lanai once again and opened the door. I nearly screamed at how bright it was. After living in near darkness, only supplemented by meager wind up lights, the sudden brightness of the full sun felt like a nail to my optic nerves. It took over thirty minutes for my eyes to adjust and when they finally did all I could do was stand there with my mouth open.
The pool was green; the pump was running … the solar cells had continued to work so I assumed they’d been protected enough that the original flash hadn’t hurt them any. I ran over to the pump and threw it off real quick when I realized that the filter was way passed needing to be cleaned. I put that down on my list of immediate things to do. The screen had a little bit of debris on it but not enough to tear it which I thought was a blessing. Through the screens I could see that the grass in the yard was waist high. The plants on the lanai had fared about as well as the ones in the house had; not great but not bad either.
You’ve heard of writer’s block? We’ll I’ve had survivor’s block. Life has been … surreal. I hate using that word; it is so trite and meaningless almost because of how much it has been overused. But that is the only word I can think of to describe how things have been.
One week I told myself, just one week. Surely I could hold on that long just to be sure, absolutely sure, that it was safe to go out. So of course logically I didn’t even last three days before I had to get out of my personal hobbit hole or go stark raving crazy.
I knew I was taking a chance - a huge one - but I couldn’t wait any longer. All of the logic in the world couldn’t change the fact that I needed fresh water, fresh air, and sunlight and so did Nydia and Neeno (Nydia’s nickname for the baby). Nope, I hadn’t named the baby yet. Every time I thought I just had to sit down and do it, all I could see was Mateo’s face and I broke down. I know it didn’t make sense but that is the way it was. I couldn’t name him Mateo Jr.; it hurts too badly and I don’t think Nydia would handle it well. She wanted to call him Angel which is a Spanish male name but for some reason I just couldn’t do it, not without Mateo. I knew he needed a name but for a while Neeno was all we needed. It’s not like there was anyone to record his birth.
More than the water, air, and light I mentally needed “out.” It smelled really bad in our hole. I knew it but my brain had kind of turned my nose off so that we could survive. At the first whiff of fresh air though I nearly gagged when I realized how bad our living quarters really smelled. I left Nydia and Neeno behind as I crawled through the “tunnel” and pushed the stove out of the way and climbed out and into the kitchen.
Everything was dark and silent. I had a moment of disorientation, almost like an attack of agoraphobia, before I got my bearings. I turned on the wind up flashlight and looked around. Some of my plants had suffered even though I had tried to set up a “greenhouse” but some of them looked like they were OK … not great, but OK. The house was humid and dank and I could see mildew beginning to grow in a few places. I knew I would have to deal with that soon enough but I was more interested in seeing if there was a world left outside. But first I pulled out the KFM and set it up.
No reading on the KFM so again I wondered if I had put it together correctly. I was just about ready to pull the first panel down and see what was going on outside when there was a horrible BOOM!! I nearly panicked and ran back into the tunnel but then that noise was followed by … rain. Lots and lots of rain from the sound of it.
I nearly fainted in relief.
“Nonny!!” came the plaintive cry from the tunnel.
“Stay inside Nydia. It is just a thunderstorm. Give me time to check things out.”
“Hurry Nonny! Neeno is scared.”
It wasn’t Neeno that was scared, it was Nydia. It took time but I removed the last covering I installed and tried to look out but all I saw was blackness. It didn’t make sense. Cautiously I opened the door and walked out into … the night. Somehow during our time in our shelter I’d managed to lose enough time that I’d gotten our “days” and “nights” mixed up. The rain fell in torrents so exploring was impossible but I did feel a definite chill off of the rain that signaled a change in weather was coming.
I tried to see beyond the screen cage that surrounded the pool and lanai but the night and storm was impenetrable. But the air was fresh and I went back to the shelter and got Nydia and the baby and let them sit in the open house for a while. The rain, despite its fierceness was soothing and soon we all three dozed. Neeno’s demands woke me up in time to see the first pinkish rays of sunlight creeping into the sky. It was definitely cooler than it had been but I figured it was just an early cool snap.
I had to crawl back into the “shelter” to get to our supplies and I vowed it would be the last time I had to do it quite that way. As soon as Nydia and the baby were taken care of I cleaned up in the family room – thank goodness for ceramic tile floors – and laid a relatively clean blanket on the floor. Nydia played, Neeno slept, and I checked over the house since I was still somewhat afraid of going outside. It would take some time but it looked like all that the house needed was a serious cleaning. Everything would need to be scrubbed because of the mildew that was trying to take hold here and there but I knew with enough elbow grease I could get rid of it.
After the house I had to force myself to try the outside again. I didn’t get it. I’d been cooped up so long that I was going stir crazy. I broke the one week wait promise that I had made myself because I needed out. Now I was out and every time I got near an exterior door or window I got the heeby-jeebies. It didn’t make the least bit of sense to me at the time.
I pulled the covering off the door to the lanai once again and opened the door. I nearly screamed at how bright it was. After living in near darkness, only supplemented by meager wind up lights, the sudden brightness of the full sun felt like a nail to my optic nerves. It took over thirty minutes for my eyes to adjust and when they finally did all I could do was stand there with my mouth open.
The pool was green; the pump was running … the solar cells had continued to work so I assumed they’d been protected enough that the original flash hadn’t hurt them any. I ran over to the pump and threw it off real quick when I realized that the filter was way passed needing to be cleaned. I put that down on my list of immediate things to do. The screen had a little bit of debris on it but not enough to tear it which I thought was a blessing. Through the screens I could see that the grass in the yard was waist high. The plants on the lanai had fared about as well as the ones in the house had; not great but not bad either.
Part 7 - 2
That was about as much outside as I could take. I turned to come back inside to find Nydia standing there on the stoop staring at me.
“Want to see everything?” I asked her.
All I got was a negative shake of the head.
“You sure?”
To that she nodded her head in affirmative. Seems like I wasn’t the only one having trouble adjusting.
I came back in and aired out the house a little and worked at getting the shelter aired out. I didn’t want to sleep in there any longer but when it came right down to it I felt safer there than any place. It wasn’t logical given that it was no longer very healthy and I made a vow … only one more night.
Broke that vow too, it took me three before I felt I had the house in sufficient shape – not to mention my own brain in sufficient shape – to exist outside of the shelter. We moved back up into the hidden room. The air was certainly better though it did take Nydia and I both a while to get used to the night noises that seemed overly large after living in the silent and nearly total dark of the shelter.
Nydia, Neeno, and I existed. We got up in the mornings … no more night crawling for me with an infant to care for … worked throughout the daylight hours and when it began to darken I would bring the children inside, close the security doors, and we would eat our dwindling supply of food. I could record the minutiae of our lives but there really wasn’t that much to it. I was focused on three main things … water, shelter, and food. And it was in that order.
Every day I thanked God that the solar set up for the well and pool continued to work; without those I would have been forced to exert even more effort to collect and purify the swamp water. After drawing the water that we would need for the day and/or refilling the pool as necessary I started cleaning and gardening. The pool was brushed down every day and the filter cleaned as necessary. I still had a ton of salt to keep the pool chlorinated but it had been a royal battle to get the algae out of it when we had first exited the shelter.
After the pool came the house. Bleach was a thing of the past, all I could do was boil water to sanitize everything. It meant cleaning more often and it made me appreciate the things that I once took for granted that were gone. Bath soap was dwindling as well even though I had once thought I had had enough to last a lifetime so we bathed every day just to fend off the dirt.
I did my best to reclaim our yard. My flabby muscles became taught once again as I used the swing blade and whatever other tool I could find to cut the grass and clear the boundaries of the property. I did my best to finish the raised garden spaces while continuing to exploit my container garden.
In the evenings I took care of our clothes and taught Nydia to read and do her sums. As a treat one night I hooked up the small portable TV/DVD player to a battery and put in a disk that had once been her favorite. It was a miserable flop. The pictures on the screen were now as disconnected from our reality as it was possible to be.
It had been weeks since we had exited the shelter and I had neither seen nor heard a single human being. Even more than that I hadn’t heard an engine of any type; no motors, no planes, no nothing. Even more odd was that I had seen very few animals. Birds yes, thank goodness, or we would have been carried off by the insects. The owls that had lived behind the barn were still there. I would watch them swoop down on the occasional black racer or swamp bunny that had gotten brave enough to venture out of the overgrowth that surrounded us and continually threatened to overwhelm us. Felines I had only seen one of and when it had seen me it streaked off like the hounds of hell were on its heels. Of dogs I had not seen one, and nothing larger either. Even though we lived in a suburb on quiet evenings you could still hear the sounds of the cattle that were kept in a field just a mile away as the crow flies … or as it once flew.
When we had first gotten out of the shelter I had thought that surely someone would come eventually. The military maybe or the National Guard would want to know what was happening, to see who was still here. I used to listen to the radio trying to discern something purposeful and intentional in the static but there was nothing. Eventually I stopped listening to the radio because it was a drain on our power and one of the batteries had already died and couldn’t be revived. I told myself that it didn’t matter anyway, no one was coming.
And eventually I started believing that too. I stopped looking down the road wondering when someone would come, if something would come. I only stopped if an odd noise caught my ear, but the first thought in my head was no longer that it was a human made noise. I even got to a point when I made peace with the feeling that Mateo was simply not going to come … not because he didn’t want to but because something prevented him. I didn’t even wonder if it was death, I simply released him to whatever the truth was. It wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t here.
A grown man would certainly have made it difficult for us. Our supplies were dangerously low and I had started rationing them and putting a lot of effort into our garden. I was feeling more confident as the weather cooled and the plants that I managed to get to come up didn’t look so pathetic. The cooling was earlier in the season than it normally was but I put that down to just a normal fluctuation.
Then one night the smell of smoke woke me up. At first I was incredulous and thought, there was no way I could have forgotten to put out the grill from where I had boiled water for our evening baths. I crept downstairs and the smell was even stronger. I followed it to the chimney where no fire had been lit in over a year … but the smell was definitely strongest at that point.
A small part of me started getting frightened. I went out the back door and as soon as I stepped outside I was nearly gagging. It looked like whisps of fog floating on the breeze … but there was no breeze. I ran to the front of the house and that small, frightened part suddenly grew into a giant. Off in the distance I could see a glow … where no glow should have been. I ran back inside, up the stairs and tore off the covering and opened the shutters of the hidden room. I was looking at one of my worst nightmares.
“Nydia! Nydia! Wake up love. You need to help Nonny. Grab your backpack … yes, the special one that we always keep packed. Come on doll baby. Now get dressed and … yes, yes that’s right, just like we practiced.”
I grabbed my backpack and the one that we had made for Neeno and I hurried all three of us down the stairs. I threw what food that was portable into a gardening wagon that I kept to help move things around. By the time I was done with that the smoke in the air was even thicker. I was afraid that I had left it too late. There was no going left or right – up or down the street – that wouldn’t gain us anything; it was the swamp or nothing. That’s when I realized I wouldn’t be able to pull the wagon through the swamp.
I nearly panicked but was saved once again as an idea sprang into my head. In my cleaning I had opened the barn back up and it was only locked with a chain. After I had gotten in there, I found what I wanted in seconds, but it took me nearly five minutes to get it down; Mateo’s old canoe. I prayed that it had no holes and God heard me.
I loaded the food and then Nydia into the canoe and then put Neeno into Nydia’s arms. The smoke was thicker than ever and I was terrified that their little lungs wouldn’t be able to handle it. I ran back to the house and grabbed a sheet, threw it in the pool and then ran back out to them and laid the sheet over them. It afforded two advantages; it helped keep the smoke off of them and out of them and they didn’t have to see what was happening.
Saying another prayer I started walking, pulling the canoe behind me. For the most part the water got no higher than my hips but there were a few times when I was swimming. In the dark the only thing that gave me directions was that the light was coming from behind me. I finally beached on a small island in the middle of the swampy area and pulled the canoe up. When I pulled the sheet back I saw that both Nydia and Neeno were asleep. Thank the Lord for the ways of children. Had they been awake they might have tipped the canoe.
We stayed on the island for a miserable two days, sometimes having to climb a tree when I would hear something - or some things - out in the swamp, but eventually I had to know what had happened. The trip in reverse seemed even longer and somehow worse going back. I had no hope, I just needed to know and to see if there was anything that I could salvage of the garden.
But I was shocked to see that the house, though covered in bits of ash here and there, still stood. The smell of burned wood was strong so I knew that the fire damage couldn’t be that far off and sure enough as I had become brave enough to leave the yard for safety’s sake, I found I was brave enough to explore to see where the fire had stopped.
It hadn’t stopped. It had turned. I reached the subdivision that was to the east of the house, only there wasn’t a subdivision, only the twisted carcasses of the houses that once stood there. I couldn’t see the other side of the damage. I had no idea how far it went. It had come close, of that there was no doubt, but not close enough to do us damage.
That was about as much outside as I could take. I turned to come back inside to find Nydia standing there on the stoop staring at me.
“Want to see everything?” I asked her.
All I got was a negative shake of the head.
“You sure?”
To that she nodded her head in affirmative. Seems like I wasn’t the only one having trouble adjusting.
I came back in and aired out the house a little and worked at getting the shelter aired out. I didn’t want to sleep in there any longer but when it came right down to it I felt safer there than any place. It wasn’t logical given that it was no longer very healthy and I made a vow … only one more night.
Broke that vow too, it took me three before I felt I had the house in sufficient shape – not to mention my own brain in sufficient shape – to exist outside of the shelter. We moved back up into the hidden room. The air was certainly better though it did take Nydia and I both a while to get used to the night noises that seemed overly large after living in the silent and nearly total dark of the shelter.
Nydia, Neeno, and I existed. We got up in the mornings … no more night crawling for me with an infant to care for … worked throughout the daylight hours and when it began to darken I would bring the children inside, close the security doors, and we would eat our dwindling supply of food. I could record the minutiae of our lives but there really wasn’t that much to it. I was focused on three main things … water, shelter, and food. And it was in that order.
Every day I thanked God that the solar set up for the well and pool continued to work; without those I would have been forced to exert even more effort to collect and purify the swamp water. After drawing the water that we would need for the day and/or refilling the pool as necessary I started cleaning and gardening. The pool was brushed down every day and the filter cleaned as necessary. I still had a ton of salt to keep the pool chlorinated but it had been a royal battle to get the algae out of it when we had first exited the shelter.
After the pool came the house. Bleach was a thing of the past, all I could do was boil water to sanitize everything. It meant cleaning more often and it made me appreciate the things that I once took for granted that were gone. Bath soap was dwindling as well even though I had once thought I had had enough to last a lifetime so we bathed every day just to fend off the dirt.
I did my best to reclaim our yard. My flabby muscles became taught once again as I used the swing blade and whatever other tool I could find to cut the grass and clear the boundaries of the property. I did my best to finish the raised garden spaces while continuing to exploit my container garden.
In the evenings I took care of our clothes and taught Nydia to read and do her sums. As a treat one night I hooked up the small portable TV/DVD player to a battery and put in a disk that had once been her favorite. It was a miserable flop. The pictures on the screen were now as disconnected from our reality as it was possible to be.
It had been weeks since we had exited the shelter and I had neither seen nor heard a single human being. Even more than that I hadn’t heard an engine of any type; no motors, no planes, no nothing. Even more odd was that I had seen very few animals. Birds yes, thank goodness, or we would have been carried off by the insects. The owls that had lived behind the barn were still there. I would watch them swoop down on the occasional black racer or swamp bunny that had gotten brave enough to venture out of the overgrowth that surrounded us and continually threatened to overwhelm us. Felines I had only seen one of and when it had seen me it streaked off like the hounds of hell were on its heels. Of dogs I had not seen one, and nothing larger either. Even though we lived in a suburb on quiet evenings you could still hear the sounds of the cattle that were kept in a field just a mile away as the crow flies … or as it once flew.
When we had first gotten out of the shelter I had thought that surely someone would come eventually. The military maybe or the National Guard would want to know what was happening, to see who was still here. I used to listen to the radio trying to discern something purposeful and intentional in the static but there was nothing. Eventually I stopped listening to the radio because it was a drain on our power and one of the batteries had already died and couldn’t be revived. I told myself that it didn’t matter anyway, no one was coming.
And eventually I started believing that too. I stopped looking down the road wondering when someone would come, if something would come. I only stopped if an odd noise caught my ear, but the first thought in my head was no longer that it was a human made noise. I even got to a point when I made peace with the feeling that Mateo was simply not going to come … not because he didn’t want to but because something prevented him. I didn’t even wonder if it was death, I simply released him to whatever the truth was. It wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t here.
A grown man would certainly have made it difficult for us. Our supplies were dangerously low and I had started rationing them and putting a lot of effort into our garden. I was feeling more confident as the weather cooled and the plants that I managed to get to come up didn’t look so pathetic. The cooling was earlier in the season than it normally was but I put that down to just a normal fluctuation.
Then one night the smell of smoke woke me up. At first I was incredulous and thought, there was no way I could have forgotten to put out the grill from where I had boiled water for our evening baths. I crept downstairs and the smell was even stronger. I followed it to the chimney where no fire had been lit in over a year … but the smell was definitely strongest at that point.
A small part of me started getting frightened. I went out the back door and as soon as I stepped outside I was nearly gagging. It looked like whisps of fog floating on the breeze … but there was no breeze. I ran to the front of the house and that small, frightened part suddenly grew into a giant. Off in the distance I could see a glow … where no glow should have been. I ran back inside, up the stairs and tore off the covering and opened the shutters of the hidden room. I was looking at one of my worst nightmares.
“Nydia! Nydia! Wake up love. You need to help Nonny. Grab your backpack … yes, the special one that we always keep packed. Come on doll baby. Now get dressed and … yes, yes that’s right, just like we practiced.”
I grabbed my backpack and the one that we had made for Neeno and I hurried all three of us down the stairs. I threw what food that was portable into a gardening wagon that I kept to help move things around. By the time I was done with that the smoke in the air was even thicker. I was afraid that I had left it too late. There was no going left or right – up or down the street – that wouldn’t gain us anything; it was the swamp or nothing. That’s when I realized I wouldn’t be able to pull the wagon through the swamp.
I nearly panicked but was saved once again as an idea sprang into my head. In my cleaning I had opened the barn back up and it was only locked with a chain. After I had gotten in there, I found what I wanted in seconds, but it took me nearly five minutes to get it down; Mateo’s old canoe. I prayed that it had no holes and God heard me.
I loaded the food and then Nydia into the canoe and then put Neeno into Nydia’s arms. The smoke was thicker than ever and I was terrified that their little lungs wouldn’t be able to handle it. I ran back to the house and grabbed a sheet, threw it in the pool and then ran back out to them and laid the sheet over them. It afforded two advantages; it helped keep the smoke off of them and out of them and they didn’t have to see what was happening.
Saying another prayer I started walking, pulling the canoe behind me. For the most part the water got no higher than my hips but there were a few times when I was swimming. In the dark the only thing that gave me directions was that the light was coming from behind me. I finally beached on a small island in the middle of the swampy area and pulled the canoe up. When I pulled the sheet back I saw that both Nydia and Neeno were asleep. Thank the Lord for the ways of children. Had they been awake they might have tipped the canoe.
We stayed on the island for a miserable two days, sometimes having to climb a tree when I would hear something - or some things - out in the swamp, but eventually I had to know what had happened. The trip in reverse seemed even longer and somehow worse going back. I had no hope, I just needed to know and to see if there was anything that I could salvage of the garden.
But I was shocked to see that the house, though covered in bits of ash here and there, still stood. The smell of burned wood was strong so I knew that the fire damage couldn’t be that far off and sure enough as I had become brave enough to leave the yard for safety’s sake, I found I was brave enough to explore to see where the fire had stopped.
It hadn’t stopped. It had turned. I reached the subdivision that was to the east of the house, only there wasn’t a subdivision, only the twisted carcasses of the houses that once stood there. I couldn’t see the other side of the damage. I had no idea how far it went. It had come close, of that there was no doubt, but not close enough to do us damage.
Part 7 - 3
Life returned to “normal” … or at least the version of normal that we’d been living since we exited the shelter. I was getting comfortable. There was a routine to life that was soothing. I put everything I was into this life. There wasn’t even any grief for my different “old lives” as there had been in the past. I could look back and see a clear delineation for each incarnation of me … getting Hank out of my life, the short time I was a teacher, becoming “Nonny”, losing my parents, becoming Mateo’s wife, the world becoming a basket case, losing Mateo and then learning to live without him, entering the shelter as one person and exiting it as yet another version of me. Each incarnation had forced me to peel away a layer. What I was at that time was basic, almost primitive. The children and my faith were quite literally the only things that got me up in the morning and reminded me to breathe … and I was fine with that.
Day in and day out … until …
Isn’t there always an “until”? I heard a sound. I lifted my head and looked around. Nothing. I went back to my work which that day was trying to lay a straight row so that I could plant another succession planting of I forget just what. I was in a sweater too large for me despite the fact that it was my own. Nydia was outgrowing her clothes; I had the exact opposite problem. The only halfway normal sized thing about me was my chest those days and that is because I was feeding Neeno. Even my pre-pregnancy clothes seemed to no longer fit well. I had done my best to sew rompers for Neeno but it wasn’t easy. I used bits of my clothes, bits of Mateo’s clothes, I cut sheets up for diapers and shower curtains to hold the mess in until I could change him.
I had just shrugged the sweater a little tighter against a sharp breeze when I heard the noise again. It sounded like something had hit the front gate. I had no sooner made the decision to go see what it could be when four soldiers came around the side of the house.
I ran towards the children when a voice said, “Hey! Hey lady!! It’s OK … really!! We’re not gonna hurt you … or the …oh my God … Sarge! … Sarge! There’s a couple of kids too!!”
“I can see that Neils so calm down so that the lady doesn’t think the rest of us are as crazy as you are.”
I knew that voice. “Hi. Remember me?”
It was Sgt. Tag and it looked like she had another puppy to replace Decker. Seeing her, as shocking as it was, made me stop and nearly laugh.
“I swear, I couldn’t believe it when I saw it on the vid for myself …,” Sgt. Tag said unusually emotional.
I finally found my own voice, “Couldn’t believe what?”
“You really have no idea what has been going on?” she said what looking at me suspiciously.
I turned to Nydia who was peeking out from behind me and said, “Sweetheart, do you want to go play …”
“No!”
Well, that was definitive, she didn’t want to move away from me at all.
“It’s all right. I can spell if need be as you will recall.” Sgt. Tag said with a misty look to her eyes.
“Do you mind if my men look around?” she asked. At my sudden tensing she said, “Just around the yard, take a few samples, that sort of thing. You might hear two other groups, one at either end of your road, moving around in the tall grass and doing the same.”
“Tell them to watch for ticks.”
“Neils!”
“Yeah Sarge?”
“Do we know about ticks?”
The young man turned every shade of red known to man. “Yes ma’am. We know about ticks.”
She smiled at me. Poor kid. She’d definitely taken him under her wing and was trying to toughen the puppy up.
“So, how much do you know about what has happened.”
Being careful with my words while trying to keep an eye out on what her men were doing I responded, “What I think happened was a bomb of some type was dropped to the south of here.”
She nodded. “Your thinking is correct. Let me go back a ways however. When we left you there were still pockets of people all around here, quite a few actually; nowhere near the population that used to live here but no small number either. The heavy bombing scared off quite a few but not as many as you would have thought it should have. As supplies dried up and people realized no one could come to the rescue of such a large population of people even the gangs began to leave town if not outright die off. People started to migrate out to the rural areas. Not to be sacrilegious for whom it matters, but it was worse than the Trail of Tears. Between armed insurgents and the gangs herding people along the bodies started stacking up like cord wood along every major corridor. The only difference was that people chose to start down the road … it was once they got on it that they lost most if not all of their options.”
I nodded my understanding of what she was trying to draw a picture of.
“Then came the rumors. Did you hear any of those?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that so I got as close to the truth as I could without giving away anyone in particular. “I ran into a couple of people that tried to get me to leave. I was too pregnant to be out on the road. I just decided to make the best of it here. At least here I knew I would have a roof over my head and my garden to feed us with.”
“Amazing.”
“How so?”
“You woman, a small nuclear device was detonated on a boat a little south of the mouth of Tampa Bay.”
“Sure, I saw the flash.”
“You saw …?! Let me see your eyes,” she demanded.
“Not directly,” I said, pulling back away from the hand that would have grabbed my chin. “We were out back here. It was night. There was a flash and we were in the shadow of the house. I dropped, tucked Nydia under me, and then we ran for the house.”
She sighed. “I am not calling you a liar but … you realize how difficult this is for us to believe?”
Confused by her tone I said, “Not … not really.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “Do you happen to have a fallout shelter in that house?”
Slowly I answered, “It was a homemade one.”
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Would you allow me to see it?”
The thought of her and those men in the house terrified me. “Only me … I just need to verify what you are telling me. My word will be enough to satisfy the loony docs that are chewing at the bit to know how you … and two children … are the only souls around for miles when this area has been repeatedly swept.”
“I haven’t heard any motors, not since I came out of the shelter.”
“You wouldn’t have. The sweeps were conducted by unmanned drones taking aerial photos.”
“Then how come you are here now?” I asked.
“We were examining photos of the fire when something caught Neils’ eye.” I looked over at the young man and watched his ears turn the color of an old fire engine. “It was an anomaly. He brought it to me. I compared it to our old surveys and … I just about dropped my teeth thinking that I couldn’t be thinking what I was thinking. There are very few legitimate coincidences in this life. Now, I really would like to see this shelter of yours.”
Feeling caught between a rock and a hard place I decided to take her as far as the kitchen and explain things. I’d already dismantled a lot of it but she would still be able to see the basic structure.
Life returned to “normal” … or at least the version of normal that we’d been living since we exited the shelter. I was getting comfortable. There was a routine to life that was soothing. I put everything I was into this life. There wasn’t even any grief for my different “old lives” as there had been in the past. I could look back and see a clear delineation for each incarnation of me … getting Hank out of my life, the short time I was a teacher, becoming “Nonny”, losing my parents, becoming Mateo’s wife, the world becoming a basket case, losing Mateo and then learning to live without him, entering the shelter as one person and exiting it as yet another version of me. Each incarnation had forced me to peel away a layer. What I was at that time was basic, almost primitive. The children and my faith were quite literally the only things that got me up in the morning and reminded me to breathe … and I was fine with that.
Day in and day out … until …
Isn’t there always an “until”? I heard a sound. I lifted my head and looked around. Nothing. I went back to my work which that day was trying to lay a straight row so that I could plant another succession planting of I forget just what. I was in a sweater too large for me despite the fact that it was my own. Nydia was outgrowing her clothes; I had the exact opposite problem. The only halfway normal sized thing about me was my chest those days and that is because I was feeding Neeno. Even my pre-pregnancy clothes seemed to no longer fit well. I had done my best to sew rompers for Neeno but it wasn’t easy. I used bits of my clothes, bits of Mateo’s clothes, I cut sheets up for diapers and shower curtains to hold the mess in until I could change him.
I had just shrugged the sweater a little tighter against a sharp breeze when I heard the noise again. It sounded like something had hit the front gate. I had no sooner made the decision to go see what it could be when four soldiers came around the side of the house.
I ran towards the children when a voice said, “Hey! Hey lady!! It’s OK … really!! We’re not gonna hurt you … or the …oh my God … Sarge! … Sarge! There’s a couple of kids too!!”
“I can see that Neils so calm down so that the lady doesn’t think the rest of us are as crazy as you are.”
I knew that voice. “Hi. Remember me?”
It was Sgt. Tag and it looked like she had another puppy to replace Decker. Seeing her, as shocking as it was, made me stop and nearly laugh.
“I swear, I couldn’t believe it when I saw it on the vid for myself …,” Sgt. Tag said unusually emotional.
I finally found my own voice, “Couldn’t believe what?”
“You really have no idea what has been going on?” she said what looking at me suspiciously.
I turned to Nydia who was peeking out from behind me and said, “Sweetheart, do you want to go play …”
“No!”
Well, that was definitive, she didn’t want to move away from me at all.
“It’s all right. I can spell if need be as you will recall.” Sgt. Tag said with a misty look to her eyes.
“Do you mind if my men look around?” she asked. At my sudden tensing she said, “Just around the yard, take a few samples, that sort of thing. You might hear two other groups, one at either end of your road, moving around in the tall grass and doing the same.”
“Tell them to watch for ticks.”
“Neils!”
“Yeah Sarge?”
“Do we know about ticks?”
The young man turned every shade of red known to man. “Yes ma’am. We know about ticks.”
She smiled at me. Poor kid. She’d definitely taken him under her wing and was trying to toughen the puppy up.
“So, how much do you know about what has happened.”
Being careful with my words while trying to keep an eye out on what her men were doing I responded, “What I think happened was a bomb of some type was dropped to the south of here.”
She nodded. “Your thinking is correct. Let me go back a ways however. When we left you there were still pockets of people all around here, quite a few actually; nowhere near the population that used to live here but no small number either. The heavy bombing scared off quite a few but not as many as you would have thought it should have. As supplies dried up and people realized no one could come to the rescue of such a large population of people even the gangs began to leave town if not outright die off. People started to migrate out to the rural areas. Not to be sacrilegious for whom it matters, but it was worse than the Trail of Tears. Between armed insurgents and the gangs herding people along the bodies started stacking up like cord wood along every major corridor. The only difference was that people chose to start down the road … it was once they got on it that they lost most if not all of their options.”
I nodded my understanding of what she was trying to draw a picture of.
“Then came the rumors. Did you hear any of those?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that so I got as close to the truth as I could without giving away anyone in particular. “I ran into a couple of people that tried to get me to leave. I was too pregnant to be out on the road. I just decided to make the best of it here. At least here I knew I would have a roof over my head and my garden to feed us with.”
“Amazing.”
“How so?”
“You woman, a small nuclear device was detonated on a boat a little south of the mouth of Tampa Bay.”
“Sure, I saw the flash.”
“You saw …?! Let me see your eyes,” she demanded.
“Not directly,” I said, pulling back away from the hand that would have grabbed my chin. “We were out back here. It was night. There was a flash and we were in the shadow of the house. I dropped, tucked Nydia under me, and then we ran for the house.”
She sighed. “I am not calling you a liar but … you realize how difficult this is for us to believe?”
Confused by her tone I said, “Not … not really.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “Do you happen to have a fallout shelter in that house?”
Slowly I answered, “It was a homemade one.”
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Would you allow me to see it?”
The thought of her and those men in the house terrified me. “Only me … I just need to verify what you are telling me. My word will be enough to satisfy the loony docs that are chewing at the bit to know how you … and two children … are the only souls around for miles when this area has been repeatedly swept.”
“I haven’t heard any motors, not since I came out of the shelter.”
“You wouldn’t have. The sweeps were conducted by unmanned drones taking aerial photos.”
“Then how come you are here now?” I asked.
“We were examining photos of the fire when something caught Neils’ eye.” I looked over at the young man and watched his ears turn the color of an old fire engine. “It was an anomaly. He brought it to me. I compared it to our old surveys and … I just about dropped my teeth thinking that I couldn’t be thinking what I was thinking. There are very few legitimate coincidences in this life. Now, I really would like to see this shelter of yours.”
Feeling caught between a rock and a hard place I decided to take her as far as the kitchen and explain things. I’d already dismantled a lot of it but she would still be able to see the basic structure.
Part 7 - 4
When I was finished we walked back outside and sat on the concrete garden benches. She was silent so long I grew worried. When she finally spoke her voice was gentle, “The baby was born in the shelter?”
“That first night. I guess … well, it must have been the shock. I was near my time, but other things had my attention. It kind of caught me off guard.”
“Labor always catches you off guard. May … may I hold him?” she asked quietly.
The tone she used startled me. “What’s his name?” She was as gentle with him as she was loud with her “boys.”
“Neeno … that’s all we are calling him for now.” I wondered if I should ask but finally had to. “Sgt. Tag? What of your family?”
I saw her swallow and knew it would be hard news. “One of my … my daughters. Some contaminated items made it through inspection. She isn’t sick … not yet. They don’t know how … how long though. Could be years … could be days. We’ll … we’ll know when we know basically.”
“Can’t the doctors tell you anymore than that?”
“She’s been triaged. Anyone with an exposure rate in excess of their guidelines is put on triage. I’m sorry, but I can’t even get a doctor out here to …”
Worried that she thought I expected someone to rescue us I said, “Oh … don’t. Really … it’s OK. I’m sorry if I made it sound as if I expected anything.”
She gave me a long, intent look. “No. You aren’t the type to expect a hand out.” She gave another sigh as she handed Neeno back when he started to fuss for his dinner. She told the “boys” to keep their eyes in their heads and to look the other way and I put Neeno to eating.
“Now,” she said going back to her more no-nonsense brusqueness. “What else do you know since the explosion?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing. I finally had no choice but to come out. The shelter wasn’t … hygienic … and we needed fresh water and air. I was going a little more than stir crazy as well. You people are the first live thing I’ve seen bigger than a swamp bunny since before the night the bomb exploded.”
I could see the wheels spinning in her head. “No large animals? No humans? What about cats … and dogs?”
“I think I heard what might have been gators when we had to run due to the fire but nothing beyond that. I've seen some large gopher tortoises but fewer and fewer as the weather has cooled off. There are still burrows thought. No ospry or red shouldered hawks. I thought I heard an owl right after the fire but only once or twice since then. No mice. No snakes. I've found a few lizard eggs in the garden but only a couple of lizards. There were quite a few skinks for a while but not lately. It isn't normally this cold this time of year so most of the reptiles are probably hiding out or only out during the day. About half the time we're nocturnal.” I shrugged. She'd either understand or not.
Instead of commenting on that she said, “Well, that stands to reason all things considered I suppose.”
I looked at her trying to understand what she meant.
“Let’s see. It was a smallish bomb, I won’t go into details as I doubt they’d mean much to you; suffice it to say that it was bad, but nowhere near as bad as it could have been. When the bomb exploded at the mouth of the bay … you have to understand, it wasn’t the first or the last that was detonated around the world.”
I was shocked. I had only been thinking of my own situation. I hadn’t had the energy … really hadn’t dared to find the energy since my own situation was so precarious … to think about the rest of the world. Now Sgt. Tag’s words stung me, making me feel thoughtless and selfish … and bringing niggling doubts once again about Mateo’s survival.”
“How … how many?”
“Over two dozen in this country alone, but they were relatively small devices with only localized effects. And compared to what happened in Europe and Asia we got off lucky.” She shook her head. “We’re hurt, make no mistake about that. There were already infrastructure failures, but we had options; all we needed to do was reopen the fuel and supply pipelines and get the plants back up and running. But the bombs … they destroyed the facilities. Now it isn’t just a matter of re-opening … we have to relocate and rebuild. The nuclear power plants are in the best shape, but it will take a while to get them fully operational again after the partial shutdowns that became necessary. Building new plants … well, imagine having to build the infrastructure of basic manufacturing of steel, plastics, and electronics before we can even begin to plan on any new structures.”
I shuddered at the magnitude of the challenge she was describing. “You said … other places were worse.”
“The Middle East basically tore itself apart. No one understands it but somehow Israel has survived with only token damage. Some of the settlements in the Gaza Strip are toast but the country itself is intact from the ground to the government. But as you can imagine they are extremely paranoid at the moment, and no one is going near them figuratively or literally … they’ve got an itchy trigger finger. They are barely responding to any communications from outside their country and with the extreme conservatives in control … we are giving them all the space they want,” she said with a humorless smile. “Egypt has also closed its borders. The Aswan Dam was badly damaged by Palestinian militants in a backlash for the border closing when things got hot between Hamas and Israel. The Jordanians and the Egyptians are the only two countries in that area that are making anything approaching sense and that is still not saying a whole lot. A group calling themselves the Muslim Brotherhood is in power one day and out the next. The Saudis are in disarray having lost most of the royal family, and it wasn’t a nuclear device that caused it. Personally, many of us think certain families and who they support have come home to roost and there are a lot of internal power plays coinciding with damage to their own infrastructure. Certainly, the country’s overall wealth has disintegrated in direct proportion to the worldwide economic depression we are now in.”
She took a sip of her canteen before continuing. “When the Middle East blew it started drawing in neighboring regions. Eastern Europe, parts of Russia, parts of China … big ones flew in the skies over there. The Koreas, Pakistan, large sections of India, a chunk of Turkey ... they just don't exist. The land is still there but satellite images, or so I've heard because the images themselves are a matter of national security, reveal that most structures have been flattened and ... there's no sign of life. The devastation is incalculable. In Western Europe France completely imploded as did parts of Britain … not from nukes but from their immigrant populations.”
“What about Africa?”
“Good question. Frankly I don’t know. Nearly the entire continent has gone dark and silent. Like I said, Egypt is OK but the rest of northern Africa is going tribal. South Africa is a huge battle ground as those dissatisfied with the status quo on both sides make their move. Some of us think China is making resource grabs as they attempted to in Australia but there has been no official confirmation of this. There isn’t a thing we can do about it however. Just like what is left of the Koreas … let them tear themselves apart, it’s not our problem.”
“No one is asking the US for help?” I asked thinking how unusual it would be for our government not to be trying to help rebuild the destroyed areas.
“Of course they are, don’t be naive. But we aren’t in any shape to help … and frankly the majority of those that are having their voices heard by the government don’t want to help any longer. That is making the beggars scream in anger at us for suddenly doing what they asked us to do in the past … leave them alone,” she snorted. “When we pulled our troops out of Afghanistan for the second time, to protect our own borders, we dumped everything we had left on every suspected target on the books. All of our remote teams around the world were given the green light to take their targets out … and most did so with at least some success.”
I didn’t care for the cat-who-got-the-cream look that Tag had on her face. I understood it but I didn’t want to get drawn into what it meant. On the one hand it was good that we got some of our own back after having to be so careful over the years … on the other hand at what cost to our own morality.
“What about Congress? What are they doing to …”
She stopped me with a look. “You’re not listening girl, things are in the toilet and changes have been made. We got as many members of Congress out as we could before the stinky stuff started flying in earnest but not many. Some refused to leave their families. Some were taken out in explosions. Some were assassinated by their own constituents. Some just decided they were too old to fight and took their own way out. ‘The President’ has changed at least four times since all this began. I don’t even know who is filling that position right now, probably just some figurehead to hold the slot. We’ve got a functioning government that is run along Constitutional lines, but the Presidential powers … all national government powers … are put in check by state rights and responsibilities as well as the military hierarchy who are the primary lines of repair and provision at this time. The national government is handling the orders to re-establish interstate travel and commerce and is maintaining the military. The military is in charge of protecting our national boundaries, dealing with any incursions of international forces, and re-establishing communications with our allies. Anything more than that is handled at the state level. Intrastate commerce and defense is being handled by each state’s National Guard. The national government does try and act as go between with the states when issues of refugees come up, but only if the states involved can’t come to some kind of understanding. Naturally, some states are handling things better than others. Florida has her problems, but we are doing fairly well all things considered. Speaking of, I’ll do my best to get you some supplies but it may take time.”
I was overwhelmed with information, but I knew that if I didn’t stop her, Tag would take over and the last thing I wanted to do was to lose control of what little bit I had. “I don’t recall asking you for anything.”
“Don’t get snarky with me girl. God may have sent the crows to feed Elijah but all you’ve got is me. And you will let me help you … if not for your own sake, then for your two little ones.”
Despite my best effort to deny her all I had to do was look down at Nydia and Neeno and I knew I would have to swallow my pride.
I was on the point of agreeing when the young man named Neils ran up. “Sarge, trouble at the Outpost. They need us back asap.”
When I was finished we walked back outside and sat on the concrete garden benches. She was silent so long I grew worried. When she finally spoke her voice was gentle, “The baby was born in the shelter?”
“That first night. I guess … well, it must have been the shock. I was near my time, but other things had my attention. It kind of caught me off guard.”
“Labor always catches you off guard. May … may I hold him?” she asked quietly.
The tone she used startled me. “What’s his name?” She was as gentle with him as she was loud with her “boys.”
“Neeno … that’s all we are calling him for now.” I wondered if I should ask but finally had to. “Sgt. Tag? What of your family?”
I saw her swallow and knew it would be hard news. “One of my … my daughters. Some contaminated items made it through inspection. She isn’t sick … not yet. They don’t know how … how long though. Could be years … could be days. We’ll … we’ll know when we know basically.”
“Can’t the doctors tell you anymore than that?”
“She’s been triaged. Anyone with an exposure rate in excess of their guidelines is put on triage. I’m sorry, but I can’t even get a doctor out here to …”
Worried that she thought I expected someone to rescue us I said, “Oh … don’t. Really … it’s OK. I’m sorry if I made it sound as if I expected anything.”
She gave me a long, intent look. “No. You aren’t the type to expect a hand out.” She gave another sigh as she handed Neeno back when he started to fuss for his dinner. She told the “boys” to keep their eyes in their heads and to look the other way and I put Neeno to eating.
“Now,” she said going back to her more no-nonsense brusqueness. “What else do you know since the explosion?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing. I finally had no choice but to come out. The shelter wasn’t … hygienic … and we needed fresh water and air. I was going a little more than stir crazy as well. You people are the first live thing I’ve seen bigger than a swamp bunny since before the night the bomb exploded.”
I could see the wheels spinning in her head. “No large animals? No humans? What about cats … and dogs?”
“I think I heard what might have been gators when we had to run due to the fire but nothing beyond that. I've seen some large gopher tortoises but fewer and fewer as the weather has cooled off. There are still burrows thought. No ospry or red shouldered hawks. I thought I heard an owl right after the fire but only once or twice since then. No mice. No snakes. I've found a few lizard eggs in the garden but only a couple of lizards. There were quite a few skinks for a while but not lately. It isn't normally this cold this time of year so most of the reptiles are probably hiding out or only out during the day. About half the time we're nocturnal.” I shrugged. She'd either understand or not.
Instead of commenting on that she said, “Well, that stands to reason all things considered I suppose.”
I looked at her trying to understand what she meant.
“Let’s see. It was a smallish bomb, I won’t go into details as I doubt they’d mean much to you; suffice it to say that it was bad, but nowhere near as bad as it could have been. When the bomb exploded at the mouth of the bay … you have to understand, it wasn’t the first or the last that was detonated around the world.”
I was shocked. I had only been thinking of my own situation. I hadn’t had the energy … really hadn’t dared to find the energy since my own situation was so precarious … to think about the rest of the world. Now Sgt. Tag’s words stung me, making me feel thoughtless and selfish … and bringing niggling doubts once again about Mateo’s survival.”
“How … how many?”
“Over two dozen in this country alone, but they were relatively small devices with only localized effects. And compared to what happened in Europe and Asia we got off lucky.” She shook her head. “We’re hurt, make no mistake about that. There were already infrastructure failures, but we had options; all we needed to do was reopen the fuel and supply pipelines and get the plants back up and running. But the bombs … they destroyed the facilities. Now it isn’t just a matter of re-opening … we have to relocate and rebuild. The nuclear power plants are in the best shape, but it will take a while to get them fully operational again after the partial shutdowns that became necessary. Building new plants … well, imagine having to build the infrastructure of basic manufacturing of steel, plastics, and electronics before we can even begin to plan on any new structures.”
I shuddered at the magnitude of the challenge she was describing. “You said … other places were worse.”
“The Middle East basically tore itself apart. No one understands it but somehow Israel has survived with only token damage. Some of the settlements in the Gaza Strip are toast but the country itself is intact from the ground to the government. But as you can imagine they are extremely paranoid at the moment, and no one is going near them figuratively or literally … they’ve got an itchy trigger finger. They are barely responding to any communications from outside their country and with the extreme conservatives in control … we are giving them all the space they want,” she said with a humorless smile. “Egypt has also closed its borders. The Aswan Dam was badly damaged by Palestinian militants in a backlash for the border closing when things got hot between Hamas and Israel. The Jordanians and the Egyptians are the only two countries in that area that are making anything approaching sense and that is still not saying a whole lot. A group calling themselves the Muslim Brotherhood is in power one day and out the next. The Saudis are in disarray having lost most of the royal family, and it wasn’t a nuclear device that caused it. Personally, many of us think certain families and who they support have come home to roost and there are a lot of internal power plays coinciding with damage to their own infrastructure. Certainly, the country’s overall wealth has disintegrated in direct proportion to the worldwide economic depression we are now in.”
She took a sip of her canteen before continuing. “When the Middle East blew it started drawing in neighboring regions. Eastern Europe, parts of Russia, parts of China … big ones flew in the skies over there. The Koreas, Pakistan, large sections of India, a chunk of Turkey ... they just don't exist. The land is still there but satellite images, or so I've heard because the images themselves are a matter of national security, reveal that most structures have been flattened and ... there's no sign of life. The devastation is incalculable. In Western Europe France completely imploded as did parts of Britain … not from nukes but from their immigrant populations.”
“What about Africa?”
“Good question. Frankly I don’t know. Nearly the entire continent has gone dark and silent. Like I said, Egypt is OK but the rest of northern Africa is going tribal. South Africa is a huge battle ground as those dissatisfied with the status quo on both sides make their move. Some of us think China is making resource grabs as they attempted to in Australia but there has been no official confirmation of this. There isn’t a thing we can do about it however. Just like what is left of the Koreas … let them tear themselves apart, it’s not our problem.”
“No one is asking the US for help?” I asked thinking how unusual it would be for our government not to be trying to help rebuild the destroyed areas.
“Of course they are, don’t be naive. But we aren’t in any shape to help … and frankly the majority of those that are having their voices heard by the government don’t want to help any longer. That is making the beggars scream in anger at us for suddenly doing what they asked us to do in the past … leave them alone,” she snorted. “When we pulled our troops out of Afghanistan for the second time, to protect our own borders, we dumped everything we had left on every suspected target on the books. All of our remote teams around the world were given the green light to take their targets out … and most did so with at least some success.”
I didn’t care for the cat-who-got-the-cream look that Tag had on her face. I understood it but I didn’t want to get drawn into what it meant. On the one hand it was good that we got some of our own back after having to be so careful over the years … on the other hand at what cost to our own morality.
“What about Congress? What are they doing to …”
She stopped me with a look. “You’re not listening girl, things are in the toilet and changes have been made. We got as many members of Congress out as we could before the stinky stuff started flying in earnest but not many. Some refused to leave their families. Some were taken out in explosions. Some were assassinated by their own constituents. Some just decided they were too old to fight and took their own way out. ‘The President’ has changed at least four times since all this began. I don’t even know who is filling that position right now, probably just some figurehead to hold the slot. We’ve got a functioning government that is run along Constitutional lines, but the Presidential powers … all national government powers … are put in check by state rights and responsibilities as well as the military hierarchy who are the primary lines of repair and provision at this time. The national government is handling the orders to re-establish interstate travel and commerce and is maintaining the military. The military is in charge of protecting our national boundaries, dealing with any incursions of international forces, and re-establishing communications with our allies. Anything more than that is handled at the state level. Intrastate commerce and defense is being handled by each state’s National Guard. The national government does try and act as go between with the states when issues of refugees come up, but only if the states involved can’t come to some kind of understanding. Naturally, some states are handling things better than others. Florida has her problems, but we are doing fairly well all things considered. Speaking of, I’ll do my best to get you some supplies but it may take time.”
I was overwhelmed with information, but I knew that if I didn’t stop her, Tag would take over and the last thing I wanted to do was to lose control of what little bit I had. “I don’t recall asking you for anything.”
“Don’t get snarky with me girl. God may have sent the crows to feed Elijah but all you’ve got is me. And you will let me help you … if not for your own sake, then for your two little ones.”
Despite my best effort to deny her all I had to do was look down at Nydia and Neeno and I knew I would have to swallow my pride.
I was on the point of agreeing when the young man named Neils ran up. “Sarge, trouble at the Outpost. They need us back asap.”
Part 7 - 5
They left so quickly Tag and I never finished our conversation. I realized I hadn’t even thought to ask them where they were stationed at. The rest of the day seemed flat and unsettled. That night it took me a while to settle down as thoughts I would rather have not thought kept flittering through my head. For the next several days it was the same but as time passed the appearance and then disappearance of Tag and her men faded like it had been nothing but a daydream.
Three weeks went by and then I looked up as a sound like a mosquito caught my ear. It was a small plane circling high in the sky and then taking off to the north, eventually disappearing behind a few puffy clouds that presaged rain. At least I could finally tell myself that I hadn’t imagined it all, that there were still other people in the world.
Another month and the weather was definitely cooler than it should have been. Nydia and the baby spent most of their time in the house near the fireplace. I began to worry that the citrus would freeze before I could harvest it. My bananas were definitely in trouble. I harvested three stalks in October but none of the other blooms ever made fruit.
I gave up planting anything but the coolest weather crops outside and had to keep the heat lamp running every night in the greenhouse; another serious drain on the energy I collected. The cloudy skies also caused me to cut back on all but the most essential power use. Keeping the wood pile filled drained my personal energy supply. Cutting wood was hard work and that is what I was doing when I heard an awful noise out front.
Getting over the shock, and finally recognizing Pvt. Neils, allowed me to calm down.
He could tell I was not happy to see such a group of men and he removed his hat and said hurriedly, “Ma’am, Capt. Tag sends her best.”
“Capt. Tag? I thought she was a sergeant.”
“Yes ma’am, and she probably wishes she still was. She turned down all of the field promotions she was offered for as long as she dared but when they set up the big refugee camp, she got her own quarters and brought her family down to live with her. She sure doesn’t like being tied to a desk all the time. Where would you like us to unload this stuff?”
“What stuff? I can’t take that! I didn’t ask …”
“Ma’am, please don’t. Capt. Tag promised a month of hell in the refugee kitchens if we didn’t get this to you and make sure you took it. You wouldn’t want that would you?”
Neils and all five of the men with him turned eyes on me that would have made a cocker spaniel jealous. Honestly, Tag was a horrible manipulator, sending a bunch of puppies to do her dirty work because she knew I wouldn’t kick them. They unloaded “the stuff” where I told them to and they also helped drag some fallen limbs from around the neighborhood and cut them up before leaving. After they left, I found a note from Tag.
Leah,
I would have brought this stuff myself to fulfill my promise but as Neils has no doubt blabbed, my responsibilities have increased. The only real compensation is that my time with my family has also increased making it all worth it.
A word to the wise, the situation remains fluid in the state. Do not fail to maintain your situational awareness. Just because you don’t see other people in your area does not mean that they aren’t moving through there though I have no data on any permanent camps or settlements.
Our scientists say it is unlikely that North America will feel a full nuclear winter but a disruption in normal weather patterns, similar to the one caused by historic volcanic eruptions, is already occurring. The change in weather has contributed to a large stream of emigrants leaving the north heading our way, though every state has their own border crossings that slow the waves down to trickles. Lack of services along the way also leave those few who survive the trek to make it this far in poor condition.
We may also see further incursions from international refugees from the island nations and from parts of Central America. The boat people are in even worse condition than our own and worse, more prone to desperate acts.
As far as the contents of this shipment, I can see your face as if I was standing there beside you. This amounts to the same as the state is providing other refugee outposts so don’t get bent out of shape. Making sure you are able to stay where you are means a lighter workload in the camps so it all evens out in the end. There is no need to go into it further; it is little enough as it is and doubtful under current conditions that we can provide more.
As winter closes the northern travel routes and the influx levels off or ceases, I will try and send another team to check on you. I may also ask that you provide them with suggestions for setting up individual homesteads like your own so that we can try and empty some of the refugee camps. Too many people on top of one another reminds me too much of the FEMA camps and I refuse to run one of those hell holes. The west and northeast coast states may find them useful but it is the wrong fit for the personality of our people here in the south.
God Bless and Keep Your and Yours,
Tag
I folded the letter up and stuck it in my apron pocket smiling despite myself. Tag reminded me of the girls’ dean at my high school. She’d snarl and snap and most people thought she was a nasty old gator, but I knew for a fact she’d also take the head off of anyone … student or staff … that she thought was taking advantage of anyone in her care. Why or how Tag had come to think of me as one of her responsibilities I didn’t know but I was beginning to think that maybe I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth and just accept that some things happened for a reason.
What Tag called “not much” took up a good chunk of the lanai. I hadn’t let the men in the house, I did have some boundaries that I wasn’t too crazy about giving up and the house was sacrosanct. I began to inventory the jumble of items and realized that if I was careful and used my existing supplies this could easily get us through to the new year and a little on the other side giving me time to see whether the citrus crop failed and whether I could grow enough fresh to provide for us when, as was inevitable, all of the other supplies eventually ran out.
There were drums, barrels, buckets, and burlap bags and they all took some ingenuity on my part to get into the house and put away. There was a large drum of dried corn kernels and a smaller drum of wheat. There was a large plastic barrel of oat groats, another of rice, a smaller one of rolled oats, one of what was labeled buckwheat, and another small one labeled barley. There were plastic containers of dried fruits and veggies and several burlap bags of dried beans. There were six-gallon buckets of salt, dried potato flakes, some kind of 9 grain cereal, and what looked like some kind of dried fruit and granola mix. There was a small drum of light-colored, sticky stuff that turned out to be corn syrup and another of the same size that was some kind of thick, dark molasses. I noticed there were no seasonings but there was a drum of vegetable oil and a couple of buckets of lard. There were also two large buckets of peanuts still in their shell that would give me both peanut butter and fat, both of which were very low in the supplies I had been able to save. The last two items were the smallest yet were the most difficult to get into. Each box had multiple layers of tape over a protective waxed paper cover. The first one held jerky and sticks of dried meat, heavily salted but so good that I couldn’t resist tearing a piece apart and sharing it with Nydia. The other box held two large blocks of baker’s chocolate, powdered cocoa, some waterproof matches, a pamphlet on collecting and purifying water, some coffee filters (though no coffee), a nalgene water bottle and filter and a small cone of brown sugar and bottle of powdered creamer.
I was thankful for all of it, but I also tried to look at it with an eye to what was missing to make it a more balanced food supply for a group of people and when I did that what was missing was obvious. Except for the bottle of creamer there were no dairy products … no dried milk, no cheese, no cheese powder, no powdered eggs, etc. Thanks to the buying spree that Mateo and I had gone on … oh how long ago it seems … I still had plenty of dairy products left but they wouldn’t last forever, and it looked like I couldn’t really count on trade to provide a solution to the deficiency.
Seasonings was another deficiency I noted but anyone with access to some herbs could fix that if they were willing to learn how to use what didn’t come from a bottle on the grocery store shelves. My potted and planted herbs were the only thing that hadn’t suffered at all while we were in the shelter. Some of them even seemed the better for me leaving them alone. I did occasionally have to fight the swamp turtles, but the battles weren’t frequent enough to bother me … besides turtle soup wasn’t bad at all when you were hungry. There was a large gopher tortoise that has made its burrow under the greenhouse. He'll come out when I am weeding in that area and seems to think that I'm doing it just for him ... her ... whichever it is. I haven't figured out if it is male or female and not being a tortoise myself I suppose it really doesn't matter.
There also wasn’t as much rice as I expected which really surprised me although if the Gulf Coast had been hit maybe a lot of the year’s crop had been contaminated or something. Or maybe the crop is fine but it is being spread thinner because the wheat crop has been damaged. There are so many things I wish I could ask but have had to accept it just being the way it is.
The dried fruits and veggies also wouldn’t go very far if I used them as is rather than mixing them up with other things. The dried meat would barely supplement the protein provided by the dried beans. I definitely needed to come up with some kind of plan for replacing my dwindling supply of animal protein. It looked like more aggressive hunting was in my future, assuming I could find anything to hunt … turtles were easy and plentiful as were bunnies but neither was something we could survive on long term.
I was beginning to think that the reason that I wasn’t seeing any larger animals … or dogs or cats … was because people had eaten them. I know that seemed gross at first glance, but I knew that both dog and cat was featured on the menu of some foreign countries as a common item. I was lucky that I hadn’t run into any gators in the swamp but that didn’t mean they weren’t in there, just that I hadn’t seen them. Hunting gator though wasn’t something that I thought I was capable of, at least not at that point. What I really needed to do if I wanted to be self-sufficient long term was get my own domesticated animals … chickens, goats, cows, pigs … or at least one of those. I thought longingly of the chickens that Mateo had brought home so long ago, only for us to have to kill and eat them when they stopped laying eggs no matter how much we fed them.
For the first time in a long while I was finally doing something besides just existing and trying to survive for the short term. I felt energized. Looking up I saw the wispy clouds that had been there earlier had turned into real thunderheads. I hurried to finish bringing the supplies in off of the lanai so that I could clear the screens off the rain barrels and bring in enough wood so I wouldn’t have to light a smoky fire tonight or in the morning.
Even though I was hurrying I felt myself smiling, not even the storm on the horizon had the ability to bring me down this time. And when the first fat, cold drops started to fall my little family was snug inside and a filling soup was simmering on the fireplace. Nydia seemed to sense my change in mood and reflected it in her own. Even Neeno seemed to guzzle his meal with more gusto than he had recently. It was as I was putting them to bed that I casually glanced at the calendar and realized that Thanksgiving was only a few days away. This gave me another goal to work towards and after that was Christmas.
As I lay my own head down, I realized what had been missing and was again in my life. Humpty Dumpty may have fallen off the wall so badly that none of the king’s men could put him back together the same way ever again, but life did go on. But I had finally found what I had lost … hope. I had hope and with hope the possibilities for the future were only limited by what I could imagine.
They left so quickly Tag and I never finished our conversation. I realized I hadn’t even thought to ask them where they were stationed at. The rest of the day seemed flat and unsettled. That night it took me a while to settle down as thoughts I would rather have not thought kept flittering through my head. For the next several days it was the same but as time passed the appearance and then disappearance of Tag and her men faded like it had been nothing but a daydream.
Three weeks went by and then I looked up as a sound like a mosquito caught my ear. It was a small plane circling high in the sky and then taking off to the north, eventually disappearing behind a few puffy clouds that presaged rain. At least I could finally tell myself that I hadn’t imagined it all, that there were still other people in the world.
Another month and the weather was definitely cooler than it should have been. Nydia and the baby spent most of their time in the house near the fireplace. I began to worry that the citrus would freeze before I could harvest it. My bananas were definitely in trouble. I harvested three stalks in October but none of the other blooms ever made fruit.
I gave up planting anything but the coolest weather crops outside and had to keep the heat lamp running every night in the greenhouse; another serious drain on the energy I collected. The cloudy skies also caused me to cut back on all but the most essential power use. Keeping the wood pile filled drained my personal energy supply. Cutting wood was hard work and that is what I was doing when I heard an awful noise out front.
Getting over the shock, and finally recognizing Pvt. Neils, allowed me to calm down.
He could tell I was not happy to see such a group of men and he removed his hat and said hurriedly, “Ma’am, Capt. Tag sends her best.”
“Capt. Tag? I thought she was a sergeant.”
“Yes ma’am, and she probably wishes she still was. She turned down all of the field promotions she was offered for as long as she dared but when they set up the big refugee camp, she got her own quarters and brought her family down to live with her. She sure doesn’t like being tied to a desk all the time. Where would you like us to unload this stuff?”
“What stuff? I can’t take that! I didn’t ask …”
“Ma’am, please don’t. Capt. Tag promised a month of hell in the refugee kitchens if we didn’t get this to you and make sure you took it. You wouldn’t want that would you?”
Neils and all five of the men with him turned eyes on me that would have made a cocker spaniel jealous. Honestly, Tag was a horrible manipulator, sending a bunch of puppies to do her dirty work because she knew I wouldn’t kick them. They unloaded “the stuff” where I told them to and they also helped drag some fallen limbs from around the neighborhood and cut them up before leaving. After they left, I found a note from Tag.
Leah,
I would have brought this stuff myself to fulfill my promise but as Neils has no doubt blabbed, my responsibilities have increased. The only real compensation is that my time with my family has also increased making it all worth it.
A word to the wise, the situation remains fluid in the state. Do not fail to maintain your situational awareness. Just because you don’t see other people in your area does not mean that they aren’t moving through there though I have no data on any permanent camps or settlements.
Our scientists say it is unlikely that North America will feel a full nuclear winter but a disruption in normal weather patterns, similar to the one caused by historic volcanic eruptions, is already occurring. The change in weather has contributed to a large stream of emigrants leaving the north heading our way, though every state has their own border crossings that slow the waves down to trickles. Lack of services along the way also leave those few who survive the trek to make it this far in poor condition.
We may also see further incursions from international refugees from the island nations and from parts of Central America. The boat people are in even worse condition than our own and worse, more prone to desperate acts.
As far as the contents of this shipment, I can see your face as if I was standing there beside you. This amounts to the same as the state is providing other refugee outposts so don’t get bent out of shape. Making sure you are able to stay where you are means a lighter workload in the camps so it all evens out in the end. There is no need to go into it further; it is little enough as it is and doubtful under current conditions that we can provide more.
As winter closes the northern travel routes and the influx levels off or ceases, I will try and send another team to check on you. I may also ask that you provide them with suggestions for setting up individual homesteads like your own so that we can try and empty some of the refugee camps. Too many people on top of one another reminds me too much of the FEMA camps and I refuse to run one of those hell holes. The west and northeast coast states may find them useful but it is the wrong fit for the personality of our people here in the south.
God Bless and Keep Your and Yours,
Tag
I folded the letter up and stuck it in my apron pocket smiling despite myself. Tag reminded me of the girls’ dean at my high school. She’d snarl and snap and most people thought she was a nasty old gator, but I knew for a fact she’d also take the head off of anyone … student or staff … that she thought was taking advantage of anyone in her care. Why or how Tag had come to think of me as one of her responsibilities I didn’t know but I was beginning to think that maybe I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth and just accept that some things happened for a reason.
What Tag called “not much” took up a good chunk of the lanai. I hadn’t let the men in the house, I did have some boundaries that I wasn’t too crazy about giving up and the house was sacrosanct. I began to inventory the jumble of items and realized that if I was careful and used my existing supplies this could easily get us through to the new year and a little on the other side giving me time to see whether the citrus crop failed and whether I could grow enough fresh to provide for us when, as was inevitable, all of the other supplies eventually ran out.
There were drums, barrels, buckets, and burlap bags and they all took some ingenuity on my part to get into the house and put away. There was a large drum of dried corn kernels and a smaller drum of wheat. There was a large plastic barrel of oat groats, another of rice, a smaller one of rolled oats, one of what was labeled buckwheat, and another small one labeled barley. There were plastic containers of dried fruits and veggies and several burlap bags of dried beans. There were six-gallon buckets of salt, dried potato flakes, some kind of 9 grain cereal, and what looked like some kind of dried fruit and granola mix. There was a small drum of light-colored, sticky stuff that turned out to be corn syrup and another of the same size that was some kind of thick, dark molasses. I noticed there were no seasonings but there was a drum of vegetable oil and a couple of buckets of lard. There were also two large buckets of peanuts still in their shell that would give me both peanut butter and fat, both of which were very low in the supplies I had been able to save. The last two items were the smallest yet were the most difficult to get into. Each box had multiple layers of tape over a protective waxed paper cover. The first one held jerky and sticks of dried meat, heavily salted but so good that I couldn’t resist tearing a piece apart and sharing it with Nydia. The other box held two large blocks of baker’s chocolate, powdered cocoa, some waterproof matches, a pamphlet on collecting and purifying water, some coffee filters (though no coffee), a nalgene water bottle and filter and a small cone of brown sugar and bottle of powdered creamer.
I was thankful for all of it, but I also tried to look at it with an eye to what was missing to make it a more balanced food supply for a group of people and when I did that what was missing was obvious. Except for the bottle of creamer there were no dairy products … no dried milk, no cheese, no cheese powder, no powdered eggs, etc. Thanks to the buying spree that Mateo and I had gone on … oh how long ago it seems … I still had plenty of dairy products left but they wouldn’t last forever, and it looked like I couldn’t really count on trade to provide a solution to the deficiency.
Seasonings was another deficiency I noted but anyone with access to some herbs could fix that if they were willing to learn how to use what didn’t come from a bottle on the grocery store shelves. My potted and planted herbs were the only thing that hadn’t suffered at all while we were in the shelter. Some of them even seemed the better for me leaving them alone. I did occasionally have to fight the swamp turtles, but the battles weren’t frequent enough to bother me … besides turtle soup wasn’t bad at all when you were hungry. There was a large gopher tortoise that has made its burrow under the greenhouse. He'll come out when I am weeding in that area and seems to think that I'm doing it just for him ... her ... whichever it is. I haven't figured out if it is male or female and not being a tortoise myself I suppose it really doesn't matter.
There also wasn’t as much rice as I expected which really surprised me although if the Gulf Coast had been hit maybe a lot of the year’s crop had been contaminated or something. Or maybe the crop is fine but it is being spread thinner because the wheat crop has been damaged. There are so many things I wish I could ask but have had to accept it just being the way it is.
The dried fruits and veggies also wouldn’t go very far if I used them as is rather than mixing them up with other things. The dried meat would barely supplement the protein provided by the dried beans. I definitely needed to come up with some kind of plan for replacing my dwindling supply of animal protein. It looked like more aggressive hunting was in my future, assuming I could find anything to hunt … turtles were easy and plentiful as were bunnies but neither was something we could survive on long term.
I was beginning to think that the reason that I wasn’t seeing any larger animals … or dogs or cats … was because people had eaten them. I know that seemed gross at first glance, but I knew that both dog and cat was featured on the menu of some foreign countries as a common item. I was lucky that I hadn’t run into any gators in the swamp but that didn’t mean they weren’t in there, just that I hadn’t seen them. Hunting gator though wasn’t something that I thought I was capable of, at least not at that point. What I really needed to do if I wanted to be self-sufficient long term was get my own domesticated animals … chickens, goats, cows, pigs … or at least one of those. I thought longingly of the chickens that Mateo had brought home so long ago, only for us to have to kill and eat them when they stopped laying eggs no matter how much we fed them.
For the first time in a long while I was finally doing something besides just existing and trying to survive for the short term. I felt energized. Looking up I saw the wispy clouds that had been there earlier had turned into real thunderheads. I hurried to finish bringing the supplies in off of the lanai so that I could clear the screens off the rain barrels and bring in enough wood so I wouldn’t have to light a smoky fire tonight or in the morning.
Even though I was hurrying I felt myself smiling, not even the storm on the horizon had the ability to bring me down this time. And when the first fat, cold drops started to fall my little family was snug inside and a filling soup was simmering on the fireplace. Nydia seemed to sense my change in mood and reflected it in her own. Even Neeno seemed to guzzle his meal with more gusto than he had recently. It was as I was putting them to bed that I casually glanced at the calendar and realized that Thanksgiving was only a few days away. This gave me another goal to work towards and after that was Christmas.
As I lay my own head down, I realized what had been missing and was again in my life. Humpty Dumpty may have fallen off the wall so badly that none of the king’s men could put him back together the same way ever again, but life did go on. But I had finally found what I had lost … hope. I had hope and with hope the possibilities for the future were only limited by what I could imagine.
Part Eight: What did I dream? - 1
What did I dream?
I do not know;
The fragments fly like chaff.
Yet strange my mind
Was tickled so,
I cannot help but laugh.
Life and the cogs that turn it never stop moving. Oh they feel like they’ve stopped but in reality so long as you are drawing breath the wheels of your life are in motion. The hope I found that day that Capt. Tag’s puppies had delivered the supplies bolstered me and seemed to restart a part of my brain that had fallen into a coma out of self-preservation. With my awakening came the recognition of the challenges we faced but there was also that hope … and faith … that if I wasn’t up for the job that Someone Greater would lend me some of His strength and I would be able to do what needed doing.
And boy, were there challenges. The weather was colder than I ever remembered it being at the end of November and beginning of December. Oh sure, we’d had the occasional early frost, but this was completely different, this was that change in weather patterns that Capt. Tag had warned me about. Gardening the old way was going to be impossible so I pulled out one of the books that someone had given my mother years ago, when I was too young to appreciate what it was about.
There was this man named Eliot Coleman and he may not have started the idea of year-round gardening, but he did have a hand in making it popular almost to the point of being a fad at one point. Normally in our part of Florida the growing season is 356 days a year. You could grow something or harvest something year ‘round. But with the cold weather bearing down as I’d never experienced before I knew that I couldn’t take it for granted, knew that I would have to change the way I did things, or all of my previous efforts would be for naught. I gave that book a reading all in a single day and realized that more than likely I could make things better if I could find the supplies I needed.
I had rolls of plastic sheeting and floating cloth in the barn. For the “frame” I realized with a little effort I could probably scavenge from the fire damaged area. It wasn’t easy by any stretch but since I didn’t have any social obligations to distract me – and yes that tongue in cheek thought was my humor reviving along with my hope and faith – I had nothing but time on my hands to get the work done. But better yet I also had the tools to do what I wanted to do, and the know-how of how to use them. When I brought all the tools back from the Trask’s workshop one of the things that I had debated on bringing was an electric rebar bender. I had known what it was because my father had rented them before as he couldn’t afford to own one; they cost several thousands of dollars. There were manual pipe benders but they took strength to operate, and since I had neither I used what I did have. My big problem was that the mechanism was electric.
I refused to let it deter me. First, I gathered the rebar I could from the burned over area. The stuff was all over the place but I didn’t take but the best and least twisted. I wanted the rebar bender to have to work as little as possible to create the curved pieces I needed. What I would do is last thing at night I would bend the rebar until the batteries ran out. I would then hook the batteries back up to the solar charger and go inside for the night. Next morning I would get up, create what frames I could using the pieces I had bent the previous night and usually by the time I couldn’t go any further the batteries would be charged enough for me to bend more pieces. This continued for days.
Only once or twice did the weather not cooperate and charge the batteries quick enough to keep up with what I needed. On those days I would build more raised beds. I didn’t necessarily get to plant anything in these beds because I didn’t have time – or compost – to fill them yet but they would be there when I needed them later. Eventually the entire back yard was full of either covered rows or “pods” in places where rows wouldn’t work. The rows looked strange enough, but the pods looked like black igloos.
As the weather got still colder, I started to worry about my citrus and other fruit trees. I knew the pears could stand some cold, the other deciduous trees could as well and might even be better for it since they required more cold hours than they normally got, but my citrus was going to be toast if I didn’t do something. So as Thanksgiving passed and Christmas approached I salvaged more building supplies. I built little huts over the trees that were short enough for me to do this with. I did have some citrus in large planters and those I simply moved inside; the end of the family room where the French doors were started to looking like a jungle but I was to the point that food was far more important that décor.
The “huts” were built with scrap wood that came from wherever I could find it, including the interior walls of some of the abandoned houses; it was pressure treated and that gave me some confidence that the huts would last a little longer than a single season. On the “frame” I would nail plywood about halfway up and then over the plywood I would nail shingles or roofing paper, anything dark that would absorb heat. The other benefits to doing this was that one, it helped me to square up and stabilize the structure and two, I didn’t have to use so much plastic to finish the greenhouse with. But even with that strategy I was quickly running out of plastic so I started thinking smarter; I used windows when I could find them whole and in their frames. When I couldn’t get the windows out, I would take the glass itself and then frame over the edges with wooden trim that I pulled off of baseboards and door frames. I always built in a door so that I could walk or crawl into the huts plus I needed a place where the insects could get in once … if … the trees bloomed.
I couldn’t protect all of the trees and watched in helpless frustration as some of the biggest and oldest succumbed to the shock of freeze after freeze after freeze. It broke my heart to watch those trees die and as the citrus fruit was finally ripe enough to pull – the freezing forcing the sugar into the fruit faster than normal – I saved all of the seeds I could vowing that I would figure out how to grow new ones to replace them in the coming years. And yes, I was again thinking in years rather than months, weeks, or days.
It was good that I had my covered rows because without them there would not have been a garden. In November I planted beets, broccoli, spinach, strawberries, cabbage both regular and Chinese, carrots, cauliflower, celery, collards, kale, kohlrabi, lettuce, mustard greens, onions, parsley, English peas, radishes, chard, root turnips, anise, and nasturtium. Cauliflower and chard weren’t really my favorites, and neither was kale, but beggars can’t be choosers and I needed to grow enough to feed us and that meant using all the seeds I had not just the ones that I liked. I had already learned that the hungrier you are the less picky your taste buds and I used that same common sense to plan my garden beds. In December I planted more of the same and prayed every day that God would bless us with a good harvest.
What did I dream?
I do not know;
The fragments fly like chaff.
Yet strange my mind
Was tickled so,
I cannot help but laugh.
Life and the cogs that turn it never stop moving. Oh they feel like they’ve stopped but in reality so long as you are drawing breath the wheels of your life are in motion. The hope I found that day that Capt. Tag’s puppies had delivered the supplies bolstered me and seemed to restart a part of my brain that had fallen into a coma out of self-preservation. With my awakening came the recognition of the challenges we faced but there was also that hope … and faith … that if I wasn’t up for the job that Someone Greater would lend me some of His strength and I would be able to do what needed doing.
And boy, were there challenges. The weather was colder than I ever remembered it being at the end of November and beginning of December. Oh sure, we’d had the occasional early frost, but this was completely different, this was that change in weather patterns that Capt. Tag had warned me about. Gardening the old way was going to be impossible so I pulled out one of the books that someone had given my mother years ago, when I was too young to appreciate what it was about.
There was this man named Eliot Coleman and he may not have started the idea of year-round gardening, but he did have a hand in making it popular almost to the point of being a fad at one point. Normally in our part of Florida the growing season is 356 days a year. You could grow something or harvest something year ‘round. But with the cold weather bearing down as I’d never experienced before I knew that I couldn’t take it for granted, knew that I would have to change the way I did things, or all of my previous efforts would be for naught. I gave that book a reading all in a single day and realized that more than likely I could make things better if I could find the supplies I needed.
I had rolls of plastic sheeting and floating cloth in the barn. For the “frame” I realized with a little effort I could probably scavenge from the fire damaged area. It wasn’t easy by any stretch but since I didn’t have any social obligations to distract me – and yes that tongue in cheek thought was my humor reviving along with my hope and faith – I had nothing but time on my hands to get the work done. But better yet I also had the tools to do what I wanted to do, and the know-how of how to use them. When I brought all the tools back from the Trask’s workshop one of the things that I had debated on bringing was an electric rebar bender. I had known what it was because my father had rented them before as he couldn’t afford to own one; they cost several thousands of dollars. There were manual pipe benders but they took strength to operate, and since I had neither I used what I did have. My big problem was that the mechanism was electric.
I refused to let it deter me. First, I gathered the rebar I could from the burned over area. The stuff was all over the place but I didn’t take but the best and least twisted. I wanted the rebar bender to have to work as little as possible to create the curved pieces I needed. What I would do is last thing at night I would bend the rebar until the batteries ran out. I would then hook the batteries back up to the solar charger and go inside for the night. Next morning I would get up, create what frames I could using the pieces I had bent the previous night and usually by the time I couldn’t go any further the batteries would be charged enough for me to bend more pieces. This continued for days.
Only once or twice did the weather not cooperate and charge the batteries quick enough to keep up with what I needed. On those days I would build more raised beds. I didn’t necessarily get to plant anything in these beds because I didn’t have time – or compost – to fill them yet but they would be there when I needed them later. Eventually the entire back yard was full of either covered rows or “pods” in places where rows wouldn’t work. The rows looked strange enough, but the pods looked like black igloos.
As the weather got still colder, I started to worry about my citrus and other fruit trees. I knew the pears could stand some cold, the other deciduous trees could as well and might even be better for it since they required more cold hours than they normally got, but my citrus was going to be toast if I didn’t do something. So as Thanksgiving passed and Christmas approached I salvaged more building supplies. I built little huts over the trees that were short enough for me to do this with. I did have some citrus in large planters and those I simply moved inside; the end of the family room where the French doors were started to looking like a jungle but I was to the point that food was far more important that décor.
The “huts” were built with scrap wood that came from wherever I could find it, including the interior walls of some of the abandoned houses; it was pressure treated and that gave me some confidence that the huts would last a little longer than a single season. On the “frame” I would nail plywood about halfway up and then over the plywood I would nail shingles or roofing paper, anything dark that would absorb heat. The other benefits to doing this was that one, it helped me to square up and stabilize the structure and two, I didn’t have to use so much plastic to finish the greenhouse with. But even with that strategy I was quickly running out of plastic so I started thinking smarter; I used windows when I could find them whole and in their frames. When I couldn’t get the windows out, I would take the glass itself and then frame over the edges with wooden trim that I pulled off of baseboards and door frames. I always built in a door so that I could walk or crawl into the huts plus I needed a place where the insects could get in once … if … the trees bloomed.
I couldn’t protect all of the trees and watched in helpless frustration as some of the biggest and oldest succumbed to the shock of freeze after freeze after freeze. It broke my heart to watch those trees die and as the citrus fruit was finally ripe enough to pull – the freezing forcing the sugar into the fruit faster than normal – I saved all of the seeds I could vowing that I would figure out how to grow new ones to replace them in the coming years. And yes, I was again thinking in years rather than months, weeks, or days.
It was good that I had my covered rows because without them there would not have been a garden. In November I planted beets, broccoli, spinach, strawberries, cabbage both regular and Chinese, carrots, cauliflower, celery, collards, kale, kohlrabi, lettuce, mustard greens, onions, parsley, English peas, radishes, chard, root turnips, anise, and nasturtium. Cauliflower and chard weren’t really my favorites, and neither was kale, but beggars can’t be choosers and I needed to grow enough to feed us and that meant using all the seeds I had not just the ones that I liked. I had already learned that the hungrier you are the less picky your taste buds and I used that same common sense to plan my garden beds. In December I planted more of the same and prayed every day that God would bless us with a good harvest.
Part 8 - 2
The cold weather challenged me in other ways as well. I had to trim back the giant prickly pears that were there when Mateo had originally bought the house. They had made a fine barrier along the fence line between our property and Gerald’s but the freezing winds were killing the tops out. I was careful with the pieces that I cut because I had plans for them. The tender pads I kept for cooking. The older ones I laid in growing medium hoping to start new bushes with them that could be potted or replanted when the weather returned to what it should be. The “pears” from these huge bushes I cleaned and cooked up into dishes and preserves that provided something different at our meal times, adding calories and texture that were much needed.
Christmas was Spartan compared to years past and even Nydia realized it. She nearly broke my heart when she said that it was OK if Santa didn’t come for her, but she hoped that he would still bring something for Neeno. How do you explain to a child … I just couldn’t do it, I couldn’t take one more bit of precious childhood magic away from her so instead I told her that this year we were going to be like the Magi and follow their example. I read the Precious Story to her and for a treat I made a small batch of bean fudge with some of the cocoa that I had squirreled away. I also made a warm punch using a couple of boxes of lime jello. And to make our feast as special as I could I used one of the last canned hams that I had in storage.
I tried to do something special each day of the week between Christmas and New Years Day, even if it was just something very small. It seemed important to do this; in gratitude, remembrance, as an example, to try and replicate the Event … I’m not sure, it just felt like the right thing to do. And it was precious. Nydia would color me a picture, make collages, give me a rock that she had colored to “look like Neeno’s head.” The most precious thing she gave me was what she said was a family picture. There was me, Neeno, and herself in the foreground and then standing behind us was a man with very long arms all wrapped around us in a big hug and then behind the man was another “man” with even longer arms wrapped around us and the man who had his arms around the three of us.
“See Nonny? That’s Neeno. I know he looks like a potato but he wouldn’t hold still when I was trying to draw a picture of him. Then there’s me and there’s you. And that is Poppy giving us hugs. And that big man is God who is hugging all of us.”
I am not ashamed to say that I cried, but not where she could see me. She so rarely brought Mateo up I would wonder if she had started to forget him but then she would do things like that and I didn’t know whether my heart was breaking in sadness or in joy.
The New Year arrived and with it some viciously cold weather. This was Florida and our wardrobes reflected it. I fashioned a long coat for Nydia using one of my old ones but I was forced to resort to layering and getting my outside chores done as quickly as possible. It was so bad on most days during that month that I pulled out my family’s old dome tent and set it up in the family room. I layered the back and top with some of the blankets and bed spreads that I’d salvaged from the Trask place and put several layers on the floor as well to keep the cold from creeping up from beneath the children. I faced the open side of the tent towards the fireplace and it would capture the heat and keep it so that it couldn’t float towards the ceiling. As a matter of fact I eventually made sleeping pallets in there for all three of us when it became too cold to sleep without some source of heat in any of the bedrooms.
Having enough wood to keep the fireplace going 24/7 became another challenge. Small diameter wood was easy enough to collect since I’d become confident enough to go around the neighborhood to bring back all of the fallen tree trash but I had long ago used up the wood that Tag had had her men cut for me from the tree that had fallen in front of the gate. Not only did I need wood to bring warmth but I needed it for cooking as well and while I could do most of the cooking on the fireplace I couldn’t do it all that way. I often dug a pit and cooked beans for a couple of meals in my cast iron Dutch oven but for that I needed hot coals. The search for wood that I could burn in doors seemed never ending.
It was still cold in February but I carried on as usual by planting seedlings I had grown indoors of beans, melons, corn, cucumbers, eggplant, peppers, sweet potatoes, pumpkins, winter squash, tomatoes, potatoes, more turnips, more beets, carrots, celery, more collard greens and kale, and more kohlrabi, lettuce, mustard greens, peas, radishes, and chard. But I was learning that with the cold weather came a lack of insects to pollinate when things bloomed which meant having to do it all by hand.
The only exception to this caught me completely by surprise and after I got over my fright I promised to never again curse the ingenuity and perseverance of bees and wasps. I was working in the yard and because it wasn’t too cold I had Nydia outside to get some sunlight. Neeno was in a sling across my chest bundled as warm as I could keep him. I could tell he enjoyed being outside but he didn’t like the occasional wind that took his breath away so he kept his little face turned towards my chest most of the time. Suddenly Nydia gave a pain-filled scream and we ran towards each other. It took me a few moments to sort out what had happened.
I carefully approached one of my citrus huts and heard to my amazement buzzing. Somehow or other a wasp nest had gone undetected by me in one of the trees and it was so warm inside the hut that they were buzzing like it was the middle of summer. They were frantically collecting nectar from the blooms on the tree and I realized that God was indeed merciful. If none of the other trees made at least I had hope that some of the citrus trees would make as I found that that tree wasn’t the only one that had wasps and bees doing what such creatures do. We’d always had problems with such insects around the house and I had routinely destroyed the nests out of habit and dislike of being stung. The only thing I can think of is that the cold had made them so sluggish that when I built the huts over the trees that I didn’t notice their hives and since I rarely went into the huts, being too busy with the garden that needed more tending, I hadn’t seen that not only was there a hive in the branches but that it was thriving and growing. I knew eventually I would have to allow them out but I told myself not until the weather was warmer.
By the end of February I was very glad that my plan for the covered rows and pods had worked because the wild edibles that I had hoped to harvest weren’t to be found. There were no poke shoots, all the plants were still frozen back to ground level. While my loquats were not wild strictly speaking they were a tree I really didn’t have to do much to for them to perform but the ones that weren’t in huts were either frozen back dead or their blooms had been burnt by the frosts and freezes and never made. I did harvest a few tropical apricots but barely enough to be worth drying despite the fact that I had tried to pollinate the blooms by hand. The herbs that were planted directly into the ground were still dead above the dirt line and I could only pray that the extra mulch I had managed to put on them protected what was below the ground enough that they would eventually come back.
The beginning of March I briefly gave in to the old depression and worry. It was still much cooler than it normally was. The sun barely made a dent in the clouds that seemed to fill the sky without end. It was also drier which meant I had to water more by hand … but without the aid of the swamp which was nearly empty. The water went so low in the ponds in the area that I saw gators fighting for the bits of mud so that they could hibernate or whatever you call what large reptiles do when it grows so cold that their metabolism slows down. Our food stores were also getting low again; not dangerously low but some of the variety was beginning to disappear. Because of all the clouds it made it difficult to have enough energy to run the well and charge the batteries. And I was hungry for fresh meat.
Don’t ask me where I got the nerve to do it, it almost ended in disaster, but in one of the canals there was a medium sized gator sunning itself high up on the bank. It wasn’t the only gator in there and I’d heard more than one fight go on as they fought amongst themselves. The one on the bank looked like it had been the one sent packing. As I gathered wood I watched it make its way a couple of yards at a time heading for another section of what used to be wetlands. Suddenly I got in my head the picture of my father making alligator jerky and my mother canning stewed alligator. My mouth watered so much spit was running down my chin before I even knew it.
The cold weather challenged me in other ways as well. I had to trim back the giant prickly pears that were there when Mateo had originally bought the house. They had made a fine barrier along the fence line between our property and Gerald’s but the freezing winds were killing the tops out. I was careful with the pieces that I cut because I had plans for them. The tender pads I kept for cooking. The older ones I laid in growing medium hoping to start new bushes with them that could be potted or replanted when the weather returned to what it should be. The “pears” from these huge bushes I cleaned and cooked up into dishes and preserves that provided something different at our meal times, adding calories and texture that were much needed.
Christmas was Spartan compared to years past and even Nydia realized it. She nearly broke my heart when she said that it was OK if Santa didn’t come for her, but she hoped that he would still bring something for Neeno. How do you explain to a child … I just couldn’t do it, I couldn’t take one more bit of precious childhood magic away from her so instead I told her that this year we were going to be like the Magi and follow their example. I read the Precious Story to her and for a treat I made a small batch of bean fudge with some of the cocoa that I had squirreled away. I also made a warm punch using a couple of boxes of lime jello. And to make our feast as special as I could I used one of the last canned hams that I had in storage.
I tried to do something special each day of the week between Christmas and New Years Day, even if it was just something very small. It seemed important to do this; in gratitude, remembrance, as an example, to try and replicate the Event … I’m not sure, it just felt like the right thing to do. And it was precious. Nydia would color me a picture, make collages, give me a rock that she had colored to “look like Neeno’s head.” The most precious thing she gave me was what she said was a family picture. There was me, Neeno, and herself in the foreground and then standing behind us was a man with very long arms all wrapped around us in a big hug and then behind the man was another “man” with even longer arms wrapped around us and the man who had his arms around the three of us.
“See Nonny? That’s Neeno. I know he looks like a potato but he wouldn’t hold still when I was trying to draw a picture of him. Then there’s me and there’s you. And that is Poppy giving us hugs. And that big man is God who is hugging all of us.”
I am not ashamed to say that I cried, but not where she could see me. She so rarely brought Mateo up I would wonder if she had started to forget him but then she would do things like that and I didn’t know whether my heart was breaking in sadness or in joy.
The New Year arrived and with it some viciously cold weather. This was Florida and our wardrobes reflected it. I fashioned a long coat for Nydia using one of my old ones but I was forced to resort to layering and getting my outside chores done as quickly as possible. It was so bad on most days during that month that I pulled out my family’s old dome tent and set it up in the family room. I layered the back and top with some of the blankets and bed spreads that I’d salvaged from the Trask place and put several layers on the floor as well to keep the cold from creeping up from beneath the children. I faced the open side of the tent towards the fireplace and it would capture the heat and keep it so that it couldn’t float towards the ceiling. As a matter of fact I eventually made sleeping pallets in there for all three of us when it became too cold to sleep without some source of heat in any of the bedrooms.
Having enough wood to keep the fireplace going 24/7 became another challenge. Small diameter wood was easy enough to collect since I’d become confident enough to go around the neighborhood to bring back all of the fallen tree trash but I had long ago used up the wood that Tag had had her men cut for me from the tree that had fallen in front of the gate. Not only did I need wood to bring warmth but I needed it for cooking as well and while I could do most of the cooking on the fireplace I couldn’t do it all that way. I often dug a pit and cooked beans for a couple of meals in my cast iron Dutch oven but for that I needed hot coals. The search for wood that I could burn in doors seemed never ending.
It was still cold in February but I carried on as usual by planting seedlings I had grown indoors of beans, melons, corn, cucumbers, eggplant, peppers, sweet potatoes, pumpkins, winter squash, tomatoes, potatoes, more turnips, more beets, carrots, celery, more collard greens and kale, and more kohlrabi, lettuce, mustard greens, peas, radishes, and chard. But I was learning that with the cold weather came a lack of insects to pollinate when things bloomed which meant having to do it all by hand.
The only exception to this caught me completely by surprise and after I got over my fright I promised to never again curse the ingenuity and perseverance of bees and wasps. I was working in the yard and because it wasn’t too cold I had Nydia outside to get some sunlight. Neeno was in a sling across my chest bundled as warm as I could keep him. I could tell he enjoyed being outside but he didn’t like the occasional wind that took his breath away so he kept his little face turned towards my chest most of the time. Suddenly Nydia gave a pain-filled scream and we ran towards each other. It took me a few moments to sort out what had happened.
I carefully approached one of my citrus huts and heard to my amazement buzzing. Somehow or other a wasp nest had gone undetected by me in one of the trees and it was so warm inside the hut that they were buzzing like it was the middle of summer. They were frantically collecting nectar from the blooms on the tree and I realized that God was indeed merciful. If none of the other trees made at least I had hope that some of the citrus trees would make as I found that that tree wasn’t the only one that had wasps and bees doing what such creatures do. We’d always had problems with such insects around the house and I had routinely destroyed the nests out of habit and dislike of being stung. The only thing I can think of is that the cold had made them so sluggish that when I built the huts over the trees that I didn’t notice their hives and since I rarely went into the huts, being too busy with the garden that needed more tending, I hadn’t seen that not only was there a hive in the branches but that it was thriving and growing. I knew eventually I would have to allow them out but I told myself not until the weather was warmer.
By the end of February I was very glad that my plan for the covered rows and pods had worked because the wild edibles that I had hoped to harvest weren’t to be found. There were no poke shoots, all the plants were still frozen back to ground level. While my loquats were not wild strictly speaking they were a tree I really didn’t have to do much to for them to perform but the ones that weren’t in huts were either frozen back dead or their blooms had been burnt by the frosts and freezes and never made. I did harvest a few tropical apricots but barely enough to be worth drying despite the fact that I had tried to pollinate the blooms by hand. The herbs that were planted directly into the ground were still dead above the dirt line and I could only pray that the extra mulch I had managed to put on them protected what was below the ground enough that they would eventually come back.
The beginning of March I briefly gave in to the old depression and worry. It was still much cooler than it normally was. The sun barely made a dent in the clouds that seemed to fill the sky without end. It was also drier which meant I had to water more by hand … but without the aid of the swamp which was nearly empty. The water went so low in the ponds in the area that I saw gators fighting for the bits of mud so that they could hibernate or whatever you call what large reptiles do when it grows so cold that their metabolism slows down. Our food stores were also getting low again; not dangerously low but some of the variety was beginning to disappear. Because of all the clouds it made it difficult to have enough energy to run the well and charge the batteries. And I was hungry for fresh meat.
Don’t ask me where I got the nerve to do it, it almost ended in disaster, but in one of the canals there was a medium sized gator sunning itself high up on the bank. It wasn’t the only gator in there and I’d heard more than one fight go on as they fought amongst themselves. The one on the bank looked like it had been the one sent packing. As I gathered wood I watched it make its way a couple of yards at a time heading for another section of what used to be wetlands. Suddenly I got in my head the picture of my father making alligator jerky and my mother canning stewed alligator. My mouth watered so much spit was running down my chin before I even knew it.
Part 8 - 3
Even though I had Neeno in a sling and Nydia helping to pull the wagon for picking up wood I decided that it was worth it.
“Nydia, cover your hears.” Her eyes grew wide when I pull the Keltec PF-9 out of my coat pocket. Normally I carried the LCP but that day I had put the Keltec because the LCP needed to be cleaned where I had dropped it in the sand the day before. I don’t know if the LCP would have done what I wanted it to do but I knew the Keltec would because I had listened to Bea’s brothers tell hunting stories and how they had a gator try and climb in their canoe one time. They had been jobbing – hunting frogs – and had a rifle and a .308 handgun; the rifle had gone overboard so all they were left with was the .308 and to make a long story short it took two shots to the head but the gator was history.
“Now, if it had been a big ‘un over seven feet we wouldn’t be here today but it was a shade over five feet and the .308 was enough.”
Every time they told the story it got a little more harrowing and the gator got a “shade over” something bigger. Since the gator in front of me didn’t measure quite five feet I figured I was safe. And since I didn’t have to worry about it running at me since it was in slow mo because of the cold weather I figured if I missed with one shot I would certainly be able to get it with the next … or so I thought.
Boy did I feel stupid … scared first, stupid later … when I found out that adrenaline can overrule cold weather for at least a few moments. After one shot that gator all but flew at me. I squeaked like a girl and turned to run when out of the bushes came … well I really wasn’t sure what they were at first. What they eventually resolved into being were two kids about the ages of 8 and 10 though it was hard to tell. They had bats in their hands and they went to wailing on that gator’s head in a way that made me nearly sick.
When the gator was dead – and I knew it was dead since it did not have much of a head any more – they took one look at me and then grabbed the gator and started dragging it away.
“Hey!”
Then an older boy … a teen but I wasn’t sure how old … stepped out and in front of the kids. “Does that belong to you?” he asked them sternly.
The kids got very disgruntled looks on their faces and then dropped the gator and stepped behind the teen. They started to walk away when something made me call them back, “Wait! Look, they did do most of the … um … work. Just … just leave me some and you can have the rest.”
The teen looked at me suspiciously and the kids just looked at me blankly. “Why would you do that?” he asked.
I shrugged, “It seems like the right thing to do.”
He looked at me and then out comes this huge knife. I stepped back in front of Nydia gripping the gun in my hand but the teen just steps over to the gator and starts to skin it. The two children are practically prancing from foot to foot in anticipation and that’s when I got a good look at them. One was a boy and one was a girl, both were extremely dirty. Neither one had yet to make an intelligible sound, at least not one that I understood.
“You know, you should make your brother and sister wash up before they eat.”
The teen briefly looked up at me and then looked over at the two kids before saying, “They aren’t my sibs.”
I asked, “Cousins? Friends?”
Still working on the carcass he said, “Naw. They just started following me around. I didn’t have anything better to do so I let ‘em.”
“Do you know anything about them?” I asked alarmed, the former teacher in my kicking in hard.
“Our parents all died at one of the refgee camps in Virginia.”
“Ref-gee?”
He looked at me again and rolled his eyes. “Ref-YOU-gee. It was one of those places they sent you when you didn’t have any place else to go. Our parents went out on a work bus but never came back.”
I must have made a sound because he shrugged again and said, “It happened. A lot.” He shrugged again before saying, “When I decided to take off on my own and get out of that place before I got sent out on one of those buses that never came back they just sort of … followed me I guess.”
“How long have you been on the road?”
“Long enough that we got ahead of the worst of the cold weather. Hey, you got something to put this in?”
I grabbed a couple of bags out of the wagon and handed them to him trying not to gag at the smell of the gator’s tripes that he had carefully removed then thrown down into the canal where things were fighting over them.
“Where are you staying?” I found myself asking before I thought about it.
The teen got suddenly suspicious again. “Why do you want to know?”
This time I rolled my eyes. “Look, I used to be a teacher OK. It is second nature for me to … look, have you got a place to stay or not?”
“Oh,” he said. The next he said not exactly disrespectfully but there was a lot of cynicism in there. “You’re one of those.”
“Excuse me? One of what?”
“A do-gooder. Just you worry about you and I’ll take care of us.”
His attitude made me want to smack his mouth but at the same time he reminded me of some of the kids I used to teach. They had their guard up so much of the time they were difficult to reach. The problem was that they had every reason to be suspicious and have their guard up.
I just kept looking at him and I guess some skills never die or the young man wasn’t quite as hardened as he tried to appear. In short order he hunched his shoulders and said, “Look, my brother lives in Arcadia. Last I heard he was alive and that’s where we’re heading. My brother tried to spring me before but the people running the camp wouldn’t turn loose of me. He said if I ever did get out I was to come straight to him and that’s what I’m doing. He drew me a map and gave me directions and everything so I wouldn’t get lost.”
“Um … you … you know about the bomb, right?”
“Sure I know. Right after that is when my brother tried to spring me. That’s why he gave me directions for how to get to him without going near where it came down.”
I relaxed a little but not much. “And he’ll take those two?”
“I figure he will. Him and his wife can’t have kids. She’s another do-gooder. I figure if nothing else she’ll clean ‘em up and find ‘em a place to stay. Here’s your part now we’re going and you better not follow us,” he said trying to sound menacing and only partially succeeding.
“Wait! Do you have water? And …”
“Lady, just leave us alone. We’ve taken care of ourselves this far and I don’t want no one telling me what to do. I’m not stupid you know.”
A part of me wanted to do something, anything, for those three kids but I couldn’t think what. “Hey!”
“What?!” he nearly snarled.
“Look, have … have you seen anyone else? Any other people?”
His attitude shrunk a little bit. “A few. Not many. And none you’d want to meet. Have … have you seen anybody?”
“No,” I answered quietly. “It’s been … months. You’re the first in … in a long, long time. Have you seen anyone in uniform?”
“You mean like the military or cops or something? Yeah, but not up close. No way do I want to be put in another camp. Now we’re leaving and that’s all you need to know.”
I watched the three of them disappear into the bushes and trees that bordered the burnt area and then looked down as Nydia came up and put her hand in mine that wasn’t holding the Keltec. “Don’t ever leave Nonny.” Just four words, quietly spoken but it let me know that Nydia was perhaps more perceptive than I gave her credit for being at her age. She understood that I was the one that stood between her and the fate those children had been dealt. Why God allows such things to happen I don’t know but I prayed thankfully that He had allowed me to continue to watch over my children.
Even though I had Neeno in a sling and Nydia helping to pull the wagon for picking up wood I decided that it was worth it.
“Nydia, cover your hears.” Her eyes grew wide when I pull the Keltec PF-9 out of my coat pocket. Normally I carried the LCP but that day I had put the Keltec because the LCP needed to be cleaned where I had dropped it in the sand the day before. I don’t know if the LCP would have done what I wanted it to do but I knew the Keltec would because I had listened to Bea’s brothers tell hunting stories and how they had a gator try and climb in their canoe one time. They had been jobbing – hunting frogs – and had a rifle and a .308 handgun; the rifle had gone overboard so all they were left with was the .308 and to make a long story short it took two shots to the head but the gator was history.
“Now, if it had been a big ‘un over seven feet we wouldn’t be here today but it was a shade over five feet and the .308 was enough.”
Every time they told the story it got a little more harrowing and the gator got a “shade over” something bigger. Since the gator in front of me didn’t measure quite five feet I figured I was safe. And since I didn’t have to worry about it running at me since it was in slow mo because of the cold weather I figured if I missed with one shot I would certainly be able to get it with the next … or so I thought.
Boy did I feel stupid … scared first, stupid later … when I found out that adrenaline can overrule cold weather for at least a few moments. After one shot that gator all but flew at me. I squeaked like a girl and turned to run when out of the bushes came … well I really wasn’t sure what they were at first. What they eventually resolved into being were two kids about the ages of 8 and 10 though it was hard to tell. They had bats in their hands and they went to wailing on that gator’s head in a way that made me nearly sick.
When the gator was dead – and I knew it was dead since it did not have much of a head any more – they took one look at me and then grabbed the gator and started dragging it away.
“Hey!”
Then an older boy … a teen but I wasn’t sure how old … stepped out and in front of the kids. “Does that belong to you?” he asked them sternly.
The kids got very disgruntled looks on their faces and then dropped the gator and stepped behind the teen. They started to walk away when something made me call them back, “Wait! Look, they did do most of the … um … work. Just … just leave me some and you can have the rest.”
The teen looked at me suspiciously and the kids just looked at me blankly. “Why would you do that?” he asked.
I shrugged, “It seems like the right thing to do.”
He looked at me and then out comes this huge knife. I stepped back in front of Nydia gripping the gun in my hand but the teen just steps over to the gator and starts to skin it. The two children are practically prancing from foot to foot in anticipation and that’s when I got a good look at them. One was a boy and one was a girl, both were extremely dirty. Neither one had yet to make an intelligible sound, at least not one that I understood.
“You know, you should make your brother and sister wash up before they eat.”
The teen briefly looked up at me and then looked over at the two kids before saying, “They aren’t my sibs.”
I asked, “Cousins? Friends?”
Still working on the carcass he said, “Naw. They just started following me around. I didn’t have anything better to do so I let ‘em.”
“Do you know anything about them?” I asked alarmed, the former teacher in my kicking in hard.
“Our parents all died at one of the refgee camps in Virginia.”
“Ref-gee?”
He looked at me again and rolled his eyes. “Ref-YOU-gee. It was one of those places they sent you when you didn’t have any place else to go. Our parents went out on a work bus but never came back.”
I must have made a sound because he shrugged again and said, “It happened. A lot.” He shrugged again before saying, “When I decided to take off on my own and get out of that place before I got sent out on one of those buses that never came back they just sort of … followed me I guess.”
“How long have you been on the road?”
“Long enough that we got ahead of the worst of the cold weather. Hey, you got something to put this in?”
I grabbed a couple of bags out of the wagon and handed them to him trying not to gag at the smell of the gator’s tripes that he had carefully removed then thrown down into the canal where things were fighting over them.
“Where are you staying?” I found myself asking before I thought about it.
The teen got suddenly suspicious again. “Why do you want to know?”
This time I rolled my eyes. “Look, I used to be a teacher OK. It is second nature for me to … look, have you got a place to stay or not?”
“Oh,” he said. The next he said not exactly disrespectfully but there was a lot of cynicism in there. “You’re one of those.”
“Excuse me? One of what?”
“A do-gooder. Just you worry about you and I’ll take care of us.”
His attitude made me want to smack his mouth but at the same time he reminded me of some of the kids I used to teach. They had their guard up so much of the time they were difficult to reach. The problem was that they had every reason to be suspicious and have their guard up.
I just kept looking at him and I guess some skills never die or the young man wasn’t quite as hardened as he tried to appear. In short order he hunched his shoulders and said, “Look, my brother lives in Arcadia. Last I heard he was alive and that’s where we’re heading. My brother tried to spring me before but the people running the camp wouldn’t turn loose of me. He said if I ever did get out I was to come straight to him and that’s what I’m doing. He drew me a map and gave me directions and everything so I wouldn’t get lost.”
“Um … you … you know about the bomb, right?”
“Sure I know. Right after that is when my brother tried to spring me. That’s why he gave me directions for how to get to him without going near where it came down.”
I relaxed a little but not much. “And he’ll take those two?”
“I figure he will. Him and his wife can’t have kids. She’s another do-gooder. I figure if nothing else she’ll clean ‘em up and find ‘em a place to stay. Here’s your part now we’re going and you better not follow us,” he said trying to sound menacing and only partially succeeding.
“Wait! Do you have water? And …”
“Lady, just leave us alone. We’ve taken care of ourselves this far and I don’t want no one telling me what to do. I’m not stupid you know.”
A part of me wanted to do something, anything, for those three kids but I couldn’t think what. “Hey!”
“What?!” he nearly snarled.
“Look, have … have you seen anyone else? Any other people?”
His attitude shrunk a little bit. “A few. Not many. And none you’d want to meet. Have … have you seen anybody?”
“No,” I answered quietly. “It’s been … months. You’re the first in … in a long, long time. Have you seen anyone in uniform?”
“You mean like the military or cops or something? Yeah, but not up close. No way do I want to be put in another camp. Now we’re leaving and that’s all you need to know.”
I watched the three of them disappear into the bushes and trees that bordered the burnt area and then looked down as Nydia came up and put her hand in mine that wasn’t holding the Keltec. “Don’t ever leave Nonny.” Just four words, quietly spoken but it let me know that Nydia was perhaps more perceptive than I gave her credit for being at her age. She understood that I was the one that stood between her and the fate those children had been dealt. Why God allows such things to happen I don’t know but I prayed thankfully that He had allowed me to continue to watch over my children.
Part 8 - 4
The walk back to the house was quiet and as soon as we got there I cleaned and started cooking the gator meat. It had been inexpertly cut but all in all I realized I would probably have done just as badly a job as the boy had done. Some of the meat I fried but the rest of it we couldn’t eat in one meal I smoked on the grill and a couple of thin filets I experimented with turning into jerky. Since the weather was still so cool that is all that I would need to make the meat last a couple of more days without refrigeration and if I could figure out how to kill the gators more efficiently without squeaking and running I figured a couple of them would go a long way to replacing the animal protein that was quickly disappearing again from our food stores.
Two weeks later I looked with satisfaction at the newly filled jars on the shelves. Most of them were from the two gators that I was able to kill … this time with a rifle that had a scope which meant I could do it from farther away … but there was also some rabbit and squirrel there as well. I’d almost had a raccoon but it had snarled and snapped so bad that I finally just stuck a canvas laundry sack on the end of the live capture cage and then carefully carted the mean thing off towards the canal where I knew more gators were. Maybe I was being spiteful, but it had scared me and I didn’t want anything that ferocious near the house. I spun the bag around then slung the open end so that the raccoon became airborne for a few minutes before falling into the canal where it began to frantically claw its way to shore. I left before seeing whether it made it or not, but I haven’t seen it back around the house.
The meat wasn’t the only new things on our pantry shelves. My covered gardens were actually doing quite well, well enough in fact that I harvested more than we could eat fresh. The beets came in like gang busters though they were a little smaller than any I had ever planted before. All the various green things did quite well too. Nydia and I ate a salad of some type at every meal, including breakfast, and they were very welcome both for their roughage and for their vitamins provided by their dark leafy green goodness. The eggplants were OK but I had to slice and fry them before either Nydia or I could really stomach them otherwise they just seemed slimy. I wished I had planted more carrots as well as they did. They were much longer and thicker than the ones that I had planted in containers the year before.
One of the best things though was that the tomatoes started coming in. I hadn’t really known what I was planting where so they were all mixed up together which was actually OK. Black Krim, Bloody Butcher, Mexican Midget, and more all with the strange names that some vegetable varieties had … they were all heirloom seeds and I had used a paint brush to pollinate them which meant that my crop was even bigger than if I had just left them to the wind and the insects. Towards the end of the month my peppers, cucumbers, and beans started coming in. And on the very last day of the month I actually harvested a couple of watermelons much to Nydia’s delight; and mine too I must admit.
I dried what I could but I also managed to can some things by taking an old metal barrel I found and fabricating a kind of Franklin stove from it. That meant that I could use the pressure canner though it really needed watching closely so I could open and close the dampers so that it didn’t get too hot and from there build up too much pressure inside the canner. I still had nearly a case of canning seals, but they wouldn’t last forever so I mainly used them on soups and stews and on the tomatoes.
Again, that month the wild things that I was used to foraging for didn’t produce but I did manage to get a goodly number of limes and about a gallon of mysore raspberries. The raspberries were very welcome, but the limes had me dancing a jig. One of the things that stuck in my head after reading a story to Nydia was the idea of scurvy. When I looked it up in a couple of the medical books that had belonged to my parents, I realized that it wasn’t as unheard of as I had believed. The limes would go a long way to helping to stave that illness off, especially for Nydia whom I sometimes worried wasn’t getting enough nutrition.
Neeno was over six months old and still nursed exclusively much to both my consternation and relief. I knew what I needed to do I just wasn’t sure when to do it. I knew it was still too early to wean him but it would have to happen eventually. On the other hand, one of those books that Mateo had acquired only He knows how said that some children nursed into toddlerhood. Um … I wasn’t quite sure if I would be able to manage that.
I almost don’t remember the month of April I was so busy gardening, both planting and harvesting. The rains finally started to fall again and when the rains came so did the bugs as the air warmed but it was still more like November and December than truly spring which is what it was supposed to be. As it warmed I would lift the sides of the covered gardens during the day to let some of the heat out; my goal was to safe guard against the cold, not cook the plants where they stood.
I was so busy in fact that I had to let some things slide and one of the things that I didn’t do was cut the grass in the front yard. I would enter the tree huts and pull the few weeds that dared to show their green faces there but once it warmed up enough that it stopped leaving frost on the ground and then the rains started to fall it was like someone had hit the on switch. I left the doors of the fruit huts cracked during the day so that the bees and wasps could get out and not roast and at night I closed them back up, both to protect “my” insects and to safeguard the trees they lived in. By the end of April the grass was up and well passed my knees. There were also several weedy bushes growing up in the mess and since I hadn’t raked or swept the leaves from the driveway in some time the entire front of the house looked quite abandoned from the road. Another tree had fallen across the road as well and its dead and dying top blocked the gate though it hadn’t damaged it any. As a result, I simply left by a break in the fence in the back yard that I had cut that wound behind several houses including old Mr. Houchins’ place. The road didn’t mean much to me any longer as I had my own paths that I took that were shortcuts to where I needed to go.
The children and I had been out all day picking up wood and had actually had to take refuge in the old Houchins place to wait out one of the frequent thunderstorms … another sign that the weather was completely out of whack. We finally made our way home, but the children were both extremely tired and as a result very quiet. I thought I had heard something, but the wind kept whipping the sound away. I was to the back door when I realized it was crying.
My first thought had me flying back to my memories of those kids that I had not seen since they disappeared. I took Neeno’s sling off and handed him to Nydia and pushed them both in the house.
“Nonny … don’t,” Nydia said pleadingly after she too had heard the crying. “It’s … it’s the boogerman.”
“Boogeymen don’t cry love, at least not like that. Now I want you to stay here in the house. You know what to do.”
I didn’t give her time to object further and she did know what to do as we had gone over it numerous times. She was to go to the bedroom and stay there until I got her and to open the door for no one but me.
I took the rifle and carefully made my way around the house. The sound was coming from just on the other side of the gate and front wall. It was going from crying to wailing. There was another voice but I couldn’t tell what they were saying. Dusk was setting and the crying continued. I couldn’t stand it, the sound was heartbreaking … and perhaps a little mad as well. No one sane could keep up that level of grief for long.
I nipped back through the cut in the fence and then made my way around to where I could see who it was before they saw me. There were two people sitting on the ground. I thought it was a couple at first until I realized they were both men. The one that was wailing was rocking and pulling his hair and the other … he’d lost his leg below the knee and looked in little better shape though a sight saner than the other one. I saw no guns but I did see what looked to be a spear and a couple of machetes. Neither man had had a haircut in who knows how long and they were dirty though not filthy, a detail that I found a little reassuring for some reason.
I cleared my throat and then a second time when neither man reacted to the first. The second time they did hear, boy did they hear. The man with the amputation tried to move quickly but I could tell he was very weak as he fell back cracking his head on the wall. The other man stopped his noise and then just stared at me. I looked at the two of them. They were emaciated and both had seen recent and prolonged depravations. Their clothes, such as they were, hung from them in little more than tatters tied together more for warmth than for modesty. Then as I continued to stare the breath started to leave my body.
A voice I never hoped to hear again said in raspy, sepulcher tones, “Mi corazón, mi vida, la respiración en mi cuerpo, you have come … come to take me to Heaven to be with you …. Forgive me … please forgive me. I have been searching for so long. Finally we have found each other again.”
The walk back to the house was quiet and as soon as we got there I cleaned and started cooking the gator meat. It had been inexpertly cut but all in all I realized I would probably have done just as badly a job as the boy had done. Some of the meat I fried but the rest of it we couldn’t eat in one meal I smoked on the grill and a couple of thin filets I experimented with turning into jerky. Since the weather was still so cool that is all that I would need to make the meat last a couple of more days without refrigeration and if I could figure out how to kill the gators more efficiently without squeaking and running I figured a couple of them would go a long way to replacing the animal protein that was quickly disappearing again from our food stores.
Two weeks later I looked with satisfaction at the newly filled jars on the shelves. Most of them were from the two gators that I was able to kill … this time with a rifle that had a scope which meant I could do it from farther away … but there was also some rabbit and squirrel there as well. I’d almost had a raccoon but it had snarled and snapped so bad that I finally just stuck a canvas laundry sack on the end of the live capture cage and then carefully carted the mean thing off towards the canal where I knew more gators were. Maybe I was being spiteful, but it had scared me and I didn’t want anything that ferocious near the house. I spun the bag around then slung the open end so that the raccoon became airborne for a few minutes before falling into the canal where it began to frantically claw its way to shore. I left before seeing whether it made it or not, but I haven’t seen it back around the house.
The meat wasn’t the only new things on our pantry shelves. My covered gardens were actually doing quite well, well enough in fact that I harvested more than we could eat fresh. The beets came in like gang busters though they were a little smaller than any I had ever planted before. All the various green things did quite well too. Nydia and I ate a salad of some type at every meal, including breakfast, and they were very welcome both for their roughage and for their vitamins provided by their dark leafy green goodness. The eggplants were OK but I had to slice and fry them before either Nydia or I could really stomach them otherwise they just seemed slimy. I wished I had planted more carrots as well as they did. They were much longer and thicker than the ones that I had planted in containers the year before.
One of the best things though was that the tomatoes started coming in. I hadn’t really known what I was planting where so they were all mixed up together which was actually OK. Black Krim, Bloody Butcher, Mexican Midget, and more all with the strange names that some vegetable varieties had … they were all heirloom seeds and I had used a paint brush to pollinate them which meant that my crop was even bigger than if I had just left them to the wind and the insects. Towards the end of the month my peppers, cucumbers, and beans started coming in. And on the very last day of the month I actually harvested a couple of watermelons much to Nydia’s delight; and mine too I must admit.
I dried what I could but I also managed to can some things by taking an old metal barrel I found and fabricating a kind of Franklin stove from it. That meant that I could use the pressure canner though it really needed watching closely so I could open and close the dampers so that it didn’t get too hot and from there build up too much pressure inside the canner. I still had nearly a case of canning seals, but they wouldn’t last forever so I mainly used them on soups and stews and on the tomatoes.
Again, that month the wild things that I was used to foraging for didn’t produce but I did manage to get a goodly number of limes and about a gallon of mysore raspberries. The raspberries were very welcome, but the limes had me dancing a jig. One of the things that stuck in my head after reading a story to Nydia was the idea of scurvy. When I looked it up in a couple of the medical books that had belonged to my parents, I realized that it wasn’t as unheard of as I had believed. The limes would go a long way to helping to stave that illness off, especially for Nydia whom I sometimes worried wasn’t getting enough nutrition.
Neeno was over six months old and still nursed exclusively much to both my consternation and relief. I knew what I needed to do I just wasn’t sure when to do it. I knew it was still too early to wean him but it would have to happen eventually. On the other hand, one of those books that Mateo had acquired only He knows how said that some children nursed into toddlerhood. Um … I wasn’t quite sure if I would be able to manage that.
I almost don’t remember the month of April I was so busy gardening, both planting and harvesting. The rains finally started to fall again and when the rains came so did the bugs as the air warmed but it was still more like November and December than truly spring which is what it was supposed to be. As it warmed I would lift the sides of the covered gardens during the day to let some of the heat out; my goal was to safe guard against the cold, not cook the plants where they stood.
I was so busy in fact that I had to let some things slide and one of the things that I didn’t do was cut the grass in the front yard. I would enter the tree huts and pull the few weeds that dared to show their green faces there but once it warmed up enough that it stopped leaving frost on the ground and then the rains started to fall it was like someone had hit the on switch. I left the doors of the fruit huts cracked during the day so that the bees and wasps could get out and not roast and at night I closed them back up, both to protect “my” insects and to safeguard the trees they lived in. By the end of April the grass was up and well passed my knees. There were also several weedy bushes growing up in the mess and since I hadn’t raked or swept the leaves from the driveway in some time the entire front of the house looked quite abandoned from the road. Another tree had fallen across the road as well and its dead and dying top blocked the gate though it hadn’t damaged it any. As a result, I simply left by a break in the fence in the back yard that I had cut that wound behind several houses including old Mr. Houchins’ place. The road didn’t mean much to me any longer as I had my own paths that I took that were shortcuts to where I needed to go.
The children and I had been out all day picking up wood and had actually had to take refuge in the old Houchins place to wait out one of the frequent thunderstorms … another sign that the weather was completely out of whack. We finally made our way home, but the children were both extremely tired and as a result very quiet. I thought I had heard something, but the wind kept whipping the sound away. I was to the back door when I realized it was crying.
My first thought had me flying back to my memories of those kids that I had not seen since they disappeared. I took Neeno’s sling off and handed him to Nydia and pushed them both in the house.
“Nonny … don’t,” Nydia said pleadingly after she too had heard the crying. “It’s … it’s the boogerman.”
“Boogeymen don’t cry love, at least not like that. Now I want you to stay here in the house. You know what to do.”
I didn’t give her time to object further and she did know what to do as we had gone over it numerous times. She was to go to the bedroom and stay there until I got her and to open the door for no one but me.
I took the rifle and carefully made my way around the house. The sound was coming from just on the other side of the gate and front wall. It was going from crying to wailing. There was another voice but I couldn’t tell what they were saying. Dusk was setting and the crying continued. I couldn’t stand it, the sound was heartbreaking … and perhaps a little mad as well. No one sane could keep up that level of grief for long.
I nipped back through the cut in the fence and then made my way around to where I could see who it was before they saw me. There were two people sitting on the ground. I thought it was a couple at first until I realized they were both men. The one that was wailing was rocking and pulling his hair and the other … he’d lost his leg below the knee and looked in little better shape though a sight saner than the other one. I saw no guns but I did see what looked to be a spear and a couple of machetes. Neither man had had a haircut in who knows how long and they were dirty though not filthy, a detail that I found a little reassuring for some reason.
I cleared my throat and then a second time when neither man reacted to the first. The second time they did hear, boy did they hear. The man with the amputation tried to move quickly but I could tell he was very weak as he fell back cracking his head on the wall. The other man stopped his noise and then just stared at me. I looked at the two of them. They were emaciated and both had seen recent and prolonged depravations. Their clothes, such as they were, hung from them in little more than tatters tied together more for warmth than for modesty. Then as I continued to stare the breath started to leave my body.
A voice I never hoped to hear again said in raspy, sepulcher tones, “Mi corazón, mi vida, la respiración en mi cuerpo, you have come … come to take me to Heaven to be with you …. Forgive me … please forgive me. I have been searching for so long. Finally we have found each other again.”
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Very big thank you.
Laurane
Canadian Loonie
Lovely…..
Part 9: To Learn Again the Old Songs - 1
Who, day and night, must scramble for a living,
Feed a wife and children, say his daily prayers?
And who has the right, as master of the house,
To have the final word at home?
Who must know the way to make a proper home,
A quiet home, a kosher home?
Who must raise the family and run the home,
So Papa's free to read the holy books?
As I continued to just stand there Mateo started to come apart again, “No … no … you must be here; we must be together again. Leah, my Leah. No … no … no …” Then he started crawling towards me.
The other man, the amputee, grabbed him and held fast. In gritty tones that were closer to what I remembered them being than Mateo’s cracked voice was Greg said, “It’s Leah all right … but maybe you ain’t noticed that she’s got a gun aimed at us.”
“Leah?” Mateo asked pathetically. “Are you still my Leah? Are you real?”
I finally found my own voice and said, “I swear, if you are an illusion ... if I’ve finally cracked … you are going to be in so much hot water.”
Greg snorted but Mateo, still obviously not completely connected to reality, crawled over and placed his head into my lap as I lowered the rifle and bent down. “I can now die in peace.”
I shook him close to having my own mental breakdown. “Don’t you dare die! Not now.” I looked over at Greg who was staring at me as if he too wasn’t sure if I were real. “Greg?”
“Yeah. It’s me. Guess we both look some different since the last time you saw us.”
A dry click was the only sound my throat would make for a moment. Then I managed to swallow and said, “More than likely rain will come again soon, the air still feels like it anyway. We need to get you two into the house but we’ll have to walk around to the back. Can you make it?”
He said, “You mean the leg? I’ve made it this far haven’t I?”
“How far is far?” I asked as a deep rumble could be heard off in the distance. Mateo twitched at the sound but Greg didn’t have a chance to answer; big, fat rain drops began to fall threatening to drench all of us. Using the spear as a crutch Greg followed me as I hurriedly led a still mentally dysfunctional Mateo around and into the lanai. He kept muttering under his breath about finally being allowed his day of judgment and that we’d be together again in Heaven.
Once we got to the patio Greg stopped for a moment until I snapped, “Please don’t start that old stuff again. It is still too cool and certainly too wet for you to sleep outside and if the pattern is what it has been the rain will be coming down so hard in a few minutes that you won’t be able to breathe.”
I got both men inside and in front of the fire where they shivered and jerked using precious energy they didn’t have to spare as their bodies tried to warm. Neither man had what looked like any body fat on them a far sight different from when they had been taken from me. Mateo panicked for a moment when I tried to step away but I told him that I had to check on the children. “Of course! Of course! They’re in Heaven too. Let them know I’m coming.”
I shook my head in shock and near tears though I was still managing. In all the ways I had ever imagined Mateo coming home or us meeting again nothing like this even came under consideration. Mateo had always been so strong. It nearly terrified me to think what he could have experienced to break him like this. I rushed to the bedroom and Nydia flew into my arms. I hugged her tightly. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to tell her that Poppy had come home but I couldn’t see how it would do her any good to see the condition he was currently in.
But in the end I couldn’t lie either. I explained the best I could but added, “Darling, Poppy is … not feeling well. He … he doesn’t even quite look like himself.”
She was not ready to believe me, “Then how do you know it’s him. It could be the boogerman dressed up like Poppy.”
“No Sweetie, I know the difference. But … but … he’s … it’s not just …” I stopped on a sigh. “Nydia, I don’t know how to explain it exactly. It is Poppy, it truly is … and the other man is his friend Greg … but they’ve both … they’ve both been through a lot. I don’t think they’ve had anyone to take care of them like we’ve been taking care of each other.”
That clicked for her I think bringing to mind the children we had met. Peering through a crack in the door and then looking back at me, “God was supposed to take care of him.”
“He did Sweets. He guided him back to us. But … but I think there were people that didn’t want him to make it and maybe he saw some terrible things. He’s … he’s fragile and not … not thinking right. Please don’t let it scare you. It is … it is just going to take time to fix him up. OK?”
And time it did take. For nearly a week both men did little more than sleep and eat. I started them on a very bland, liquid diet of watered down vegetable broth but even that was too much that first day; I should have started with a little rehydration fluid of a little sugar and salt. When they did manage to start holding down the broth I added garlic and greens to it though I strained it out before serving them. Eventually I left the bits of garlic and greens in there and once I was sure they could keep that down without any harm I started giving them soft foods by grinding cooked vegetables using the old baby food grinder I still had from when Nydia was an infant.
I cleaned them both up as far as they would let me; Greg eventually climbed into a tub of water himself but I had to take care of Mateo nearly as much as I did Neeno. The initial few days if Mateo woke and I wasn’t there he would get upset all over again though he never quite made it to the wailing stage as he had outside the gate. The first time he did this it frightened Nydia so much she almost refused to go near him again; but, once it penetrated that I hadn’t gone far or so long as he could see Nydia, he was calm or at least calm long enough to allow me to complete whatever task I was doing.
After Nydia got over her fright she decided that she had to take care of Mateo. I also caught her trying to tell him about everything that had happened while he was gone. I’m not sure how much he took in, it was mostly the sound of her voice and her animated company that seemed to captivate him. She was the one that he first allowed to try and brush his hair and when the long stuff proved stubborn he allowed her to cut out the worst tangles that looked a bit like dreadlocks. I was horrified to realize that both Mateo and Greg had fleas and more than a couple of ticks and took all of one day to rewash all of the bedding and anything they had come in contact with as well as making them both soak in a medicated bath in front of the fire. Nydia was also the one that Mateo allowed to trim his nails back so they didn’t look like ragged, dirty claws at the ends of his almost skeletal hands. She got him to wear some of his old casual clothes though they hung on him so much they looked like they came out of a charity barrel rather than out of his own closet. Greg was far less cooperative but eventually Nydia teased him into letting her play nurse on him as well.
As Mateo … well improved isn’t the word I would use … as Mateo stabilized, Greg seemed to deteriorate in direct proportion. He only ate because I nagged him to. He wouldn’t let me look at his stump to see if there was infection, but if there was there wasn’t any signs that I could see … no odor, no ooze … so I decided to pick my battles. Eventually I pestered him in to sitting outside for a while each day hoping the sunshine and fresh air would wake him up. It didn’t help but it didn’t hurt either. It also gave me time to find out what had occurred after the last time we had seen each other.
“Got caught in the same net as some scavengers we were battling with when I turned my ankle; guess I wasn’t as young as I wanted to pretend to be. Was sent to a UN prison camp by the Blue Hats that caught us; stinking pigs. Literally hell on earth is the only way to describe that place; it definitely wasn’t being run by American standards. Oh there were a few that tried to do things humanely but most of ‘em were too angry about being stationed where they were to do much more than take it out on the population in the camp. Don’t even know how long I was there, days started to all run together. Was starting to lose it when the bomb was dropped. There was a quick evac of the camp – honestly surprised they thought to do anything for us since we were considered criminals and infidels for the most part – and the group I was in was marched to a civilian detention facility, this one being run by the Florida National Guard. One of the guards there turned out to be Mateo.” He sighed and shifted, obviously still in some pain. “He was still the man he used to be then, maybe even a better man as what he’d seen had hardened him, toughened him up, but it hadn’t broken him like it had some. Things started falling apart at the camp not long after the group I was with arrived. Supplies were low and then a fever of some type went through both the prisoners and the guardsmen populations. Things went from bad to worse and then they eventually shipped those of us still living way down to South Florida. It was by train and all I could think of was the Jews being taken to the death camps during WW2. I was right, it wasn’t no better down there though I don’t think it was on purpose so much as there just wasn’t a lot of anything to go around. Food was short, weather was changing, people were dying from lack of simple nutrition and basic medical care. Too many people living in too small of an area and most too scared to leave knowing that they didn’t have the skills to make it in the world without help. Then another small bomb was run ashore near the camp we were in and everybody panicked, and not just the civilians either. Mateo and I hooked up and then we ran … he’d gotten into some trouble trying to get me sprung and had been on disciplinary hold … eventually running into a military unit that let us tag along.”
I could tell he was tired so I made him drink a mug of broth and a cup of juice. He snorted but still nodded in appreciation before continuing. “What you gotta understand Leah is … Matt never quit thinking of you and Nydia … nor the baby either though I’m not sure what he felt about it. I could see him getting’ all wound up the closer you got to when it was supposed to arrive and then … he just … he just had to click it off and wouldn’t talk about that part very much. We stayed hooked up with that military unit until we got close to where that friend of yours lives … that Bea. Talk about a pistol.”
“Bea … she’s still …?”
“Alive? Yup … and then some. That girl has some vinegar going through her veins I’ll give her that. It took us a while to find them but Matt, he wouldn’t give up. He was totally convinced that you’d be there with them. Wouldn’t let himself believe anything else. Couldn’t seem to bring himself to believe anything else. When we finally got there and you weren’t there. I swear I heard something break inside him.” He finished drinking what I’d given him and then eased back against the chair cushion like he wasn’t quite used to that kind of comfort and wasn’t sure he liked it. “The only reason we ran up on ‘em is that there was this fight see … between the people already living in the swamp area and folks that were flooding the place escaping from the cities. Mateo and I both were shot when we got caught betwixt ‘em. Matt not so bad, me …” He pointed to the missing part of his leg. “Matt ran into one of Bea’s brothers and he got us out of there and took us to their place. Bea nursed us and Matt did what he could to pay ‘em back. He wanted to leave but the weather kept getting colder and Bea asked him if he wanted to die on the road or did he want to finish healing so that he could go find you. We waited as long as he could stand to but about the beginning of March he couldn’t – or wouldn’t – be put off anymore.”
Who, day and night, must scramble for a living,
Feed a wife and children, say his daily prayers?
And who has the right, as master of the house,
To have the final word at home?
Who must know the way to make a proper home,
A quiet home, a kosher home?
Who must raise the family and run the home,
So Papa's free to read the holy books?
As I continued to just stand there Mateo started to come apart again, “No … no … you must be here; we must be together again. Leah, my Leah. No … no … no …” Then he started crawling towards me.
The other man, the amputee, grabbed him and held fast. In gritty tones that were closer to what I remembered them being than Mateo’s cracked voice was Greg said, “It’s Leah all right … but maybe you ain’t noticed that she’s got a gun aimed at us.”
“Leah?” Mateo asked pathetically. “Are you still my Leah? Are you real?”
I finally found my own voice and said, “I swear, if you are an illusion ... if I’ve finally cracked … you are going to be in so much hot water.”
Greg snorted but Mateo, still obviously not completely connected to reality, crawled over and placed his head into my lap as I lowered the rifle and bent down. “I can now die in peace.”
I shook him close to having my own mental breakdown. “Don’t you dare die! Not now.” I looked over at Greg who was staring at me as if he too wasn’t sure if I were real. “Greg?”
“Yeah. It’s me. Guess we both look some different since the last time you saw us.”
A dry click was the only sound my throat would make for a moment. Then I managed to swallow and said, “More than likely rain will come again soon, the air still feels like it anyway. We need to get you two into the house but we’ll have to walk around to the back. Can you make it?”
He said, “You mean the leg? I’ve made it this far haven’t I?”
“How far is far?” I asked as a deep rumble could be heard off in the distance. Mateo twitched at the sound but Greg didn’t have a chance to answer; big, fat rain drops began to fall threatening to drench all of us. Using the spear as a crutch Greg followed me as I hurriedly led a still mentally dysfunctional Mateo around and into the lanai. He kept muttering under his breath about finally being allowed his day of judgment and that we’d be together again in Heaven.
Once we got to the patio Greg stopped for a moment until I snapped, “Please don’t start that old stuff again. It is still too cool and certainly too wet for you to sleep outside and if the pattern is what it has been the rain will be coming down so hard in a few minutes that you won’t be able to breathe.”
I got both men inside and in front of the fire where they shivered and jerked using precious energy they didn’t have to spare as their bodies tried to warm. Neither man had what looked like any body fat on them a far sight different from when they had been taken from me. Mateo panicked for a moment when I tried to step away but I told him that I had to check on the children. “Of course! Of course! They’re in Heaven too. Let them know I’m coming.”
I shook my head in shock and near tears though I was still managing. In all the ways I had ever imagined Mateo coming home or us meeting again nothing like this even came under consideration. Mateo had always been so strong. It nearly terrified me to think what he could have experienced to break him like this. I rushed to the bedroom and Nydia flew into my arms. I hugged her tightly. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to tell her that Poppy had come home but I couldn’t see how it would do her any good to see the condition he was currently in.
But in the end I couldn’t lie either. I explained the best I could but added, “Darling, Poppy is … not feeling well. He … he doesn’t even quite look like himself.”
She was not ready to believe me, “Then how do you know it’s him. It could be the boogerman dressed up like Poppy.”
“No Sweetie, I know the difference. But … but … he’s … it’s not just …” I stopped on a sigh. “Nydia, I don’t know how to explain it exactly. It is Poppy, it truly is … and the other man is his friend Greg … but they’ve both … they’ve both been through a lot. I don’t think they’ve had anyone to take care of them like we’ve been taking care of each other.”
That clicked for her I think bringing to mind the children we had met. Peering through a crack in the door and then looking back at me, “God was supposed to take care of him.”
“He did Sweets. He guided him back to us. But … but I think there were people that didn’t want him to make it and maybe he saw some terrible things. He’s … he’s fragile and not … not thinking right. Please don’t let it scare you. It is … it is just going to take time to fix him up. OK?”
And time it did take. For nearly a week both men did little more than sleep and eat. I started them on a very bland, liquid diet of watered down vegetable broth but even that was too much that first day; I should have started with a little rehydration fluid of a little sugar and salt. When they did manage to start holding down the broth I added garlic and greens to it though I strained it out before serving them. Eventually I left the bits of garlic and greens in there and once I was sure they could keep that down without any harm I started giving them soft foods by grinding cooked vegetables using the old baby food grinder I still had from when Nydia was an infant.
I cleaned them both up as far as they would let me; Greg eventually climbed into a tub of water himself but I had to take care of Mateo nearly as much as I did Neeno. The initial few days if Mateo woke and I wasn’t there he would get upset all over again though he never quite made it to the wailing stage as he had outside the gate. The first time he did this it frightened Nydia so much she almost refused to go near him again; but, once it penetrated that I hadn’t gone far or so long as he could see Nydia, he was calm or at least calm long enough to allow me to complete whatever task I was doing.
After Nydia got over her fright she decided that she had to take care of Mateo. I also caught her trying to tell him about everything that had happened while he was gone. I’m not sure how much he took in, it was mostly the sound of her voice and her animated company that seemed to captivate him. She was the one that he first allowed to try and brush his hair and when the long stuff proved stubborn he allowed her to cut out the worst tangles that looked a bit like dreadlocks. I was horrified to realize that both Mateo and Greg had fleas and more than a couple of ticks and took all of one day to rewash all of the bedding and anything they had come in contact with as well as making them both soak in a medicated bath in front of the fire. Nydia was also the one that Mateo allowed to trim his nails back so they didn’t look like ragged, dirty claws at the ends of his almost skeletal hands. She got him to wear some of his old casual clothes though they hung on him so much they looked like they came out of a charity barrel rather than out of his own closet. Greg was far less cooperative but eventually Nydia teased him into letting her play nurse on him as well.
As Mateo … well improved isn’t the word I would use … as Mateo stabilized, Greg seemed to deteriorate in direct proportion. He only ate because I nagged him to. He wouldn’t let me look at his stump to see if there was infection, but if there was there wasn’t any signs that I could see … no odor, no ooze … so I decided to pick my battles. Eventually I pestered him in to sitting outside for a while each day hoping the sunshine and fresh air would wake him up. It didn’t help but it didn’t hurt either. It also gave me time to find out what had occurred after the last time we had seen each other.
“Got caught in the same net as some scavengers we were battling with when I turned my ankle; guess I wasn’t as young as I wanted to pretend to be. Was sent to a UN prison camp by the Blue Hats that caught us; stinking pigs. Literally hell on earth is the only way to describe that place; it definitely wasn’t being run by American standards. Oh there were a few that tried to do things humanely but most of ‘em were too angry about being stationed where they were to do much more than take it out on the population in the camp. Don’t even know how long I was there, days started to all run together. Was starting to lose it when the bomb was dropped. There was a quick evac of the camp – honestly surprised they thought to do anything for us since we were considered criminals and infidels for the most part – and the group I was in was marched to a civilian detention facility, this one being run by the Florida National Guard. One of the guards there turned out to be Mateo.” He sighed and shifted, obviously still in some pain. “He was still the man he used to be then, maybe even a better man as what he’d seen had hardened him, toughened him up, but it hadn’t broken him like it had some. Things started falling apart at the camp not long after the group I was with arrived. Supplies were low and then a fever of some type went through both the prisoners and the guardsmen populations. Things went from bad to worse and then they eventually shipped those of us still living way down to South Florida. It was by train and all I could think of was the Jews being taken to the death camps during WW2. I was right, it wasn’t no better down there though I don’t think it was on purpose so much as there just wasn’t a lot of anything to go around. Food was short, weather was changing, people were dying from lack of simple nutrition and basic medical care. Too many people living in too small of an area and most too scared to leave knowing that they didn’t have the skills to make it in the world without help. Then another small bomb was run ashore near the camp we were in and everybody panicked, and not just the civilians either. Mateo and I hooked up and then we ran … he’d gotten into some trouble trying to get me sprung and had been on disciplinary hold … eventually running into a military unit that let us tag along.”
I could tell he was tired so I made him drink a mug of broth and a cup of juice. He snorted but still nodded in appreciation before continuing. “What you gotta understand Leah is … Matt never quit thinking of you and Nydia … nor the baby either though I’m not sure what he felt about it. I could see him getting’ all wound up the closer you got to when it was supposed to arrive and then … he just … he just had to click it off and wouldn’t talk about that part very much. We stayed hooked up with that military unit until we got close to where that friend of yours lives … that Bea. Talk about a pistol.”
“Bea … she’s still …?”
“Alive? Yup … and then some. That girl has some vinegar going through her veins I’ll give her that. It took us a while to find them but Matt, he wouldn’t give up. He was totally convinced that you’d be there with them. Wouldn’t let himself believe anything else. Couldn’t seem to bring himself to believe anything else. When we finally got there and you weren’t there. I swear I heard something break inside him.” He finished drinking what I’d given him and then eased back against the chair cushion like he wasn’t quite used to that kind of comfort and wasn’t sure he liked it. “The only reason we ran up on ‘em is that there was this fight see … between the people already living in the swamp area and folks that were flooding the place escaping from the cities. Mateo and I both were shot when we got caught betwixt ‘em. Matt not so bad, me …” He pointed to the missing part of his leg. “Matt ran into one of Bea’s brothers and he got us out of there and took us to their place. Bea nursed us and Matt did what he could to pay ‘em back. He wanted to leave but the weather kept getting colder and Bea asked him if he wanted to die on the road or did he want to finish healing so that he could go find you. We waited as long as he could stand to but about the beginning of March he couldn’t – or wouldn’t – be put off anymore.”
Part 9-2
I gave him some space to get his thoughts together. It wasn’t a story that could be pushed. He was staring off into space and I couldn’t tell if the story hurt him or not. Finally he nodded and continued.
“We couldn’t exactly travel fast, either one of us. Several times I told Matt to go on without me but he wouldn’t leave me. I’ll admit it would have been a death sentence; scavengers would have had my bones picked clean in a pair of seconds, and turned out it was a good thing we stuck together. We must have been the only thing moving north towards Tampa. I swear it was like swimming upstream at times. Waves of people were heading south trying to escape the cold weather. Food was scarce and what little bit we had was stolen from us more than once.”
“No guns?”
“Stolen … by the military if you can believe that. Or at least that’s what they claimed to be. Fed us a meal and then kicked us to the curb. We took the machetes off a couple of corpses we run across. Used ‘em to make me a new crutch. It cracked and broke right before we come up to your gate which was why I was using the spear.”
“What have you been doing for two months on the road? It took you two months to walk that distance?”
“Remember I said we couldn’t travel far with my leg. We’ll we weren’t exactly eating much neither. You have any idea how good you’ve got it? I ain’t never seen nothing like them things you’ve got back here. And them things you’ve built over the trees? Those ideas come to you in a dream?”
“Out of a book. And God blessed me with the means to do what I wanted once I started working towards the goal. And He got you here as well but even with your injuries … didn’t someone give you a lift? Two injured men on the road …”
“Leah, I’m tellin’ you there ain’t too many folks around this part of Florida. And those that are around are bad off. They’ve got enough trouble keeping they’s own selves up outta the dirt much less picking up a couple of scraggly men they don’t know but might be scavengers or criminals or carrying sickness. We ran into another Guardsmen unit right around Port Charlotte and they kept trying to warn us off everything between the Gulf and Port Charlotte, Dundee, and Spring Hill … like a giant sea monster had taken a bite out of the west coast of central Florida. Kept saying anything left in that area was dead or dyin’. Matt near caved in on himself until this red-headed boy comes along and says that ain’t strictly true and starts telling this story about this woman living on her own outside of Tampa in this big ol’ house. ‘Nother one says that ain’t nothing but a tall tale to give people hope and him and the red head almost get into it until this big man comes along and tells ‘em to knock it before he knocks the two of them off. Matt then goes to talk to the red head for a little while that night and came back swearing up and down that it had to be you. I kept trying to tell him that he shouldn’t get his hopes up but you know Matt when he’s got the bit in his mouth. We had to be real careful with food and water, not that there was much of either. The way things looked and how there weren’t no people … it started to unhinge us both a bit but we were holding on. Ceptin’ when we got here and thought … well Matt just finally lost it.”
“You mean he was OK until he got here?”
“OK? Naw, neither one of us been OK for a long time but he was holdin’ it together. I swear I was sure you was a ghost when I first saw you myself. I still ain’t too sure I ain’t trippin’.”
I stood up, my compost bucket full, and told him, “Well I’m sure. You’re here and now that I’ve heard your story I want to know why you’ve come this far and suddenly given up?”
“Wha ..?!” he starts, trying to act all innocent.
I gave him look for look when he finally said, “All right. You want to know woman? I’ve lived through being at the bottom of the barrel before and I swore to myself I’d never go there again. I don’t want to go back to being that person, living that way, walking around like … well like you just never mind ‘cause you wouldn’t understand. I could say I don’t understand why you haven’t given up. Look around you. What is there left worth living for?!”
“Well ain’t you funny,” I told him reverting to my parents’ way of talking when we were home alone. “After that story you just told me? After telling me how lucky I am? And you got the nerve to say there ain’t nothin’ to livin’ for. You got rocks in yore head boy?”
I’d caught him off guard. “Yes, I’m talking to you, you irritating, contrary, stubborn … kind, generous, and faithful friend. Greg, I don’t know if Mateo would have made it this far if the two of you hadn’t had each other to lean on. But you’re here now, in a place I’m not just giving you but that you’ve purely earned. And there is food for your belly and a fire to warm you … and a child that has started to call you Uncle Greg and another that will as soon as he learns to talk. If you hadn’t helped me, taught me, looked after me in the beginning I’m not sure I would have been in a place to come as far as I have. I know you are the kind that doesn’t like the idea of owing or being owed so let’s call it a chance to simply create a partnership. You’re family as far as I’m concerned. If you can’t hack the idea of staying in one place forever at least stay long enough to heal and get your bearings. Please. Give it a try, at least for a while.” You know you can talk to some people until you are blue in the face, have the best of intentions, even love them, but if they aren’t willing they just aren’t willing. Sometimes people break in ways that you can’t see and that can’t be fixed.
The rain continued to come down off and on every day. The swamp was as deep as I had ever seen it, well above the old high-water marks on the cypress trees. The ponds filled up. The canals were close to being full and water stood in odd places everywhere I went to collect wood. Mateo tried to come with me once but the utter destruction of the neighborhood – so out of sync with his memories – and getting wet in a short downpour left him so weak in mind and body that I had a difficult time getting him to wake up enough to eat his supper later in the day. I worried that if the rains continued this pattern for much longer we’d be dealing with flooding of Biblical proportions but thus far our yard stayed high and dry and the pond collected most of it and then overflowed back into the swamp. I didn’t know how long that would last and I worried about our septic drain field. I worried about my garden as well but where the covers had protected the plants from the cold before, now they protected them from simply being beat into the ground by the rain.
The beginning of the third week Mateo started coming around. He was lucid a full ninety percent of the time though he still watched us all with hungry eyes. Greg and he would talk a lot though I was never really privy to what they said. I don’t know if they were falling back into their pattern of trying to protect me from everything or if it was simply habit from their months of survival and avoidance of other people that might try and stop them or do them harm. Not that I believed they thought I would do them harm; in truth I believe that they underestimated me. Since we hadn’t really discussed how I had survived – I was not sure Mateo was ready to talk about it then – they didn’t know how strong I could be, how strong I was.
As it was, they sat around all but goggling at the amount of work I did each day and kept trying to make each task easier with their suggestions. They tried to rework the chore list, reorder my schedule, and tell me I was doing things that could be let go ‘til later or not doing things that needed to be prioritized and done now. They even came outside to “help” in the garden though I had to undo almost half of what they did. Both men were still weak, unbelievably so, but that didn’t change them from trying to take charge. They tired easily and still slept a lot but not nearly as much as the first week and as a consequence were underfoot all the more for it. I could do my chores without Mateo breaking out in a cold sweat because he didn’t have me in visual contact but that didn’t mean I could count on him not scheming to figure out some way to spend every waking moment in my company.
Eventually though he was less frantic about it, less obsessed, and his face no longer looked like a paranoid’s death mask. Finally, both he and Greg submitted to letting me cut their hair and trim their beards. Nydia had cut great chunks out already and it was a challenge to do the job properly without leaving them looking like badly sheared sheep.
Then the day came that I heard a beautiful sound. Nydia was “entertaining the men” and was singing for them some songs that I had taught her all the while doing a little dance she made up. Mateo was holding Neeno watching with all his might. It was strange, Neeno had taken to Mateo faster than Mateo was connecting with his son. I continued to give him time and my patience and it was working. Mateo was learning to believe in the reality around him and not just in the desires that he had built up in his head. Nydia was really going to town, putting her whole heart into it and when she was finished Neeno laughed out loud … really laughed, one of those baby giggles that is infectious. Then Nydia laughed at Neeno’s laugh and then the two men for whatever reason couldn’t hold back laugher of their own. Oh I was so happy. I could see Mateo healing before my eyes, not just physically but mentally.
Dinner that night was a good one. I had caught a duck – nasty, cranky thing – with an old fishing net I had found, wrung its neck, then cleaned and roasted it. It wasn’t a big duck but it was big enough that we could all get a taste and I saved all of the fat to be used later. After dinner I changed out of my regular apron all the time to protect my clothes and into the heavy plastic one that I wore to clean the kitchen with and then after I was done and as it became night time I changed back but immediately noticed that something was wrong. The LCP was gone from the apron’s pocket. I rushed into the family room but the children didn’t have it. I opened my mouth to cautiously ask Mateo if he had seen it when I noticed Greg was not in the room. At that same moment there was a loud and echoing “pop” from the backyard and I told Nydia to stay there with the baby until I said otherwise and then I flew out the back door.
I gave him some space to get his thoughts together. It wasn’t a story that could be pushed. He was staring off into space and I couldn’t tell if the story hurt him or not. Finally he nodded and continued.
“We couldn’t exactly travel fast, either one of us. Several times I told Matt to go on without me but he wouldn’t leave me. I’ll admit it would have been a death sentence; scavengers would have had my bones picked clean in a pair of seconds, and turned out it was a good thing we stuck together. We must have been the only thing moving north towards Tampa. I swear it was like swimming upstream at times. Waves of people were heading south trying to escape the cold weather. Food was scarce and what little bit we had was stolen from us more than once.”
“No guns?”
“Stolen … by the military if you can believe that. Or at least that’s what they claimed to be. Fed us a meal and then kicked us to the curb. We took the machetes off a couple of corpses we run across. Used ‘em to make me a new crutch. It cracked and broke right before we come up to your gate which was why I was using the spear.”
“What have you been doing for two months on the road? It took you two months to walk that distance?”
“Remember I said we couldn’t travel far with my leg. We’ll we weren’t exactly eating much neither. You have any idea how good you’ve got it? I ain’t never seen nothing like them things you’ve got back here. And them things you’ve built over the trees? Those ideas come to you in a dream?”
“Out of a book. And God blessed me with the means to do what I wanted once I started working towards the goal. And He got you here as well but even with your injuries … didn’t someone give you a lift? Two injured men on the road …”
“Leah, I’m tellin’ you there ain’t too many folks around this part of Florida. And those that are around are bad off. They’ve got enough trouble keeping they’s own selves up outta the dirt much less picking up a couple of scraggly men they don’t know but might be scavengers or criminals or carrying sickness. We ran into another Guardsmen unit right around Port Charlotte and they kept trying to warn us off everything between the Gulf and Port Charlotte, Dundee, and Spring Hill … like a giant sea monster had taken a bite out of the west coast of central Florida. Kept saying anything left in that area was dead or dyin’. Matt near caved in on himself until this red-headed boy comes along and says that ain’t strictly true and starts telling this story about this woman living on her own outside of Tampa in this big ol’ house. ‘Nother one says that ain’t nothing but a tall tale to give people hope and him and the red head almost get into it until this big man comes along and tells ‘em to knock it before he knocks the two of them off. Matt then goes to talk to the red head for a little while that night and came back swearing up and down that it had to be you. I kept trying to tell him that he shouldn’t get his hopes up but you know Matt when he’s got the bit in his mouth. We had to be real careful with food and water, not that there was much of either. The way things looked and how there weren’t no people … it started to unhinge us both a bit but we were holding on. Ceptin’ when we got here and thought … well Matt just finally lost it.”
“You mean he was OK until he got here?”
“OK? Naw, neither one of us been OK for a long time but he was holdin’ it together. I swear I was sure you was a ghost when I first saw you myself. I still ain’t too sure I ain’t trippin’.”
I stood up, my compost bucket full, and told him, “Well I’m sure. You’re here and now that I’ve heard your story I want to know why you’ve come this far and suddenly given up?”
“Wha ..?!” he starts, trying to act all innocent.
I gave him look for look when he finally said, “All right. You want to know woman? I’ve lived through being at the bottom of the barrel before and I swore to myself I’d never go there again. I don’t want to go back to being that person, living that way, walking around like … well like you just never mind ‘cause you wouldn’t understand. I could say I don’t understand why you haven’t given up. Look around you. What is there left worth living for?!”
“Well ain’t you funny,” I told him reverting to my parents’ way of talking when we were home alone. “After that story you just told me? After telling me how lucky I am? And you got the nerve to say there ain’t nothin’ to livin’ for. You got rocks in yore head boy?”
I’d caught him off guard. “Yes, I’m talking to you, you irritating, contrary, stubborn … kind, generous, and faithful friend. Greg, I don’t know if Mateo would have made it this far if the two of you hadn’t had each other to lean on. But you’re here now, in a place I’m not just giving you but that you’ve purely earned. And there is food for your belly and a fire to warm you … and a child that has started to call you Uncle Greg and another that will as soon as he learns to talk. If you hadn’t helped me, taught me, looked after me in the beginning I’m not sure I would have been in a place to come as far as I have. I know you are the kind that doesn’t like the idea of owing or being owed so let’s call it a chance to simply create a partnership. You’re family as far as I’m concerned. If you can’t hack the idea of staying in one place forever at least stay long enough to heal and get your bearings. Please. Give it a try, at least for a while.” You know you can talk to some people until you are blue in the face, have the best of intentions, even love them, but if they aren’t willing they just aren’t willing. Sometimes people break in ways that you can’t see and that can’t be fixed.
The rain continued to come down off and on every day. The swamp was as deep as I had ever seen it, well above the old high-water marks on the cypress trees. The ponds filled up. The canals were close to being full and water stood in odd places everywhere I went to collect wood. Mateo tried to come with me once but the utter destruction of the neighborhood – so out of sync with his memories – and getting wet in a short downpour left him so weak in mind and body that I had a difficult time getting him to wake up enough to eat his supper later in the day. I worried that if the rains continued this pattern for much longer we’d be dealing with flooding of Biblical proportions but thus far our yard stayed high and dry and the pond collected most of it and then overflowed back into the swamp. I didn’t know how long that would last and I worried about our septic drain field. I worried about my garden as well but where the covers had protected the plants from the cold before, now they protected them from simply being beat into the ground by the rain.
The beginning of the third week Mateo started coming around. He was lucid a full ninety percent of the time though he still watched us all with hungry eyes. Greg and he would talk a lot though I was never really privy to what they said. I don’t know if they were falling back into their pattern of trying to protect me from everything or if it was simply habit from their months of survival and avoidance of other people that might try and stop them or do them harm. Not that I believed they thought I would do them harm; in truth I believe that they underestimated me. Since we hadn’t really discussed how I had survived – I was not sure Mateo was ready to talk about it then – they didn’t know how strong I could be, how strong I was.
As it was, they sat around all but goggling at the amount of work I did each day and kept trying to make each task easier with their suggestions. They tried to rework the chore list, reorder my schedule, and tell me I was doing things that could be let go ‘til later or not doing things that needed to be prioritized and done now. They even came outside to “help” in the garden though I had to undo almost half of what they did. Both men were still weak, unbelievably so, but that didn’t change them from trying to take charge. They tired easily and still slept a lot but not nearly as much as the first week and as a consequence were underfoot all the more for it. I could do my chores without Mateo breaking out in a cold sweat because he didn’t have me in visual contact but that didn’t mean I could count on him not scheming to figure out some way to spend every waking moment in my company.
Eventually though he was less frantic about it, less obsessed, and his face no longer looked like a paranoid’s death mask. Finally, both he and Greg submitted to letting me cut their hair and trim their beards. Nydia had cut great chunks out already and it was a challenge to do the job properly without leaving them looking like badly sheared sheep.
Then the day came that I heard a beautiful sound. Nydia was “entertaining the men” and was singing for them some songs that I had taught her all the while doing a little dance she made up. Mateo was holding Neeno watching with all his might. It was strange, Neeno had taken to Mateo faster than Mateo was connecting with his son. I continued to give him time and my patience and it was working. Mateo was learning to believe in the reality around him and not just in the desires that he had built up in his head. Nydia was really going to town, putting her whole heart into it and when she was finished Neeno laughed out loud … really laughed, one of those baby giggles that is infectious. Then Nydia laughed at Neeno’s laugh and then the two men for whatever reason couldn’t hold back laugher of their own. Oh I was so happy. I could see Mateo healing before my eyes, not just physically but mentally.
Dinner that night was a good one. I had caught a duck – nasty, cranky thing – with an old fishing net I had found, wrung its neck, then cleaned and roasted it. It wasn’t a big duck but it was big enough that we could all get a taste and I saved all of the fat to be used later. After dinner I changed out of my regular apron all the time to protect my clothes and into the heavy plastic one that I wore to clean the kitchen with and then after I was done and as it became night time I changed back but immediately noticed that something was wrong. The LCP was gone from the apron’s pocket. I rushed into the family room but the children didn’t have it. I opened my mouth to cautiously ask Mateo if he had seen it when I noticed Greg was not in the room. At that same moment there was a loud and echoing “pop” from the backyard and I told Nydia to stay there with the baby until I said otherwise and then I flew out the back door.
Part 9-3
It was already getting dark behind the barn and I nearly tripped over him. It was light enough however to see his face when I really looked and the bile rose immediately in my throat. I nearly screamed when a hand went across my mouth.
“Don’t look Leah. Now swallow … swallow I say. Breathe … breathe … breathe. Now can you keep it down?”
I nodded and he removed his hand from my mouth. I realized that Mateo … my Mateo, not the broken man that I had found at the gate … was back.
“Go in the house.” When I tried to turn and object he said more forcefully, “Go in the house Leah. I … I will tend to this.”
Lord help me I took the coward’s way out and scurried back to the house. Butchering and dealing with animals’ remains was one thing, dealing with … with what was left of Greg was quite another. Mateo was outside for some time. When he came back in he dropped the security door and then turned to find me rocking the children both of whom were asleep. I looked at him and he came over to lift Neeno then stopped. “I am … dirty. I will wash up while you put the children to bed.”
I was tucking them both in when Nydia woke up and said, “Did Uncle Greg go to Heaven?”
I looked helplessly at Mateo who had just returned to the room and told her, “Yes.”
Her little eyes were too old for her face as she said, “Oh.” Then she started to panic. “Poppy … Nonny … you can’t go … don’t leave me …”
“Hush,” I told her gently but firmly. “Poppy and I are right here. We’re right here Love.”
It was but a moment before she fell back to sleep. I’m not sure if it was force of habit or what but I turned and buried my face in Mateo’s chest, seeking his strength. I don’t know how but he found strength to give me. He wrapped his arms around me and we rocked each other while the embers in the fireplace died low, sharing our strength back and forth until I couldn’t tell where his began and mine ended.
“Why? I thought he was doing better? I thought …He seemed …” I shuddered unable to finish the sentence because to say it was to admit that I was wrong. So wrong in fact that Greg could get my gun and shoot himself in the head rather than to stay with us. Was I then wrong about Mateo as well? I jittered in fear at the very thought.
“Shhhh. It isn’t your fault. Greg … for lack of better words to say it with … Greg made his choice. I don’t know why so we will have to let God deal with that. I won’t let him or his memory … for all that I’d come to love him as a brother … contaminate this place, us, what we have. He knew he had a place to stay as long as he wanted. I told him and he told me you said the same thing. I learned long ago that trying to change some people’s minds is like trying to hold the wind. It was hard to see unless you knew where to look, but Greg ran scared most of his life. He had reason to for a while, he was in a very bad place and was a broken man, but once he escaped that bit of his past he seemed to put everything he had into running from something. Remember that cloak and dagger act with the conspiracy theories? And then fighting what he thought was a losing war he was too afraid not to fight in.” Mateo shook his head sadly. “We need to rest.” I wanted to object but one look at his face and I realized Mateo was nearing collapse again. We lay down together, the first time we had slept so close since he had come back.
Sometimes the why’s in life are never answered. In the days that followed Mateo slowly regained his strength. There were times when shame would almost overwhelm him due to his physical weakness and finally I put my foot down and told him that he would not ruin his health by trying to get stronger too fast.
“You are bossier than you used to be mi Corazon,” he said one evening as we sat and talked after the children fell asleep.
Upset a bit I said, “I don’t mean to be bossy. I suppose I’ve gone too long having my own way and being the only one that I could count on.” When Mateo winced I quickly told him, “That wasn’t your fault and if you’ll use sense you’d know it. Maybe I needed to go through it – some of it anyway – so that I know that I can stand on my own two feet if necessary. I’d never really had to do that before, for a while there I wasn’t sure that I could. Give me some time to get used to having you around to count on again. I’ll try and not baby you too much, I know you don’t like it, but I’m just so glad that you are home and I want you to do everything to get well, whatever that takes.”
He got a decidedly male grin on his face, something else that had been returning slowly but apparently surely, “You make me feel like anything is possible.”
“Anything?” I whispered.
After a brief hesitation he said, “Perhaps … perhaps not anything, at least not tonight. But soon Leah … soon.”
The truth of it was that I had gotten used to being my own boss and it was a little difficult … ok, more than a little … to stop being the boss. I was accountable to no one but God and myself and perhaps I had grown a bit arrogant. Mateo wasn’t a child and it wasn’t right that I talk to him like I would talk to Nydia. He was a man, I needed to treat him as one; even if he was weak, and recovering, and not quite understanding or able to appreciate all of the effort and pain and work that I’d put into keeping us alive all of these months without him.
As I went over my feelings, I realized that I had a little anger in there that I hadn’t realized; perhaps more than a little. With the realization didn’t come total understanding but at least I was seeing a little more clearly. None of what I went through was Mateo’s fault, I really did believe that … do believe that. I was never a fatalist, but neither was I one of those drama queens always bemoaning my life and doing nothing about it. I knew I couldn’t force Mateo to stop trying to shove me back into the same mold I had been in before. To make it work and stick – these new strengths and weaknesses that we both had – I would have to show him and get him to work in partner with me.
I started by asking him if he was feeling up to going over what I had done over the time he had been away. I told him I hadn’t wanted to bother him with it before, but I’d had no adult to talk to and I trusted him to help me clear my head. I could see his reluctance and it hurt a bit but regardless of how he felt he agreed that it was time.
We talked almost through the entire night and then almost the entire next day as well. I couldn’t have done any work outside anyway because of the horrible storm we had but at the end I was as exhausted as if I had been working without break for days. Mateo was simply overwhelmed and shut down for a while. I left him sitting near the fire while the children played … Neeno had begun to pull himself up and creep from place to place holding on to things which meant putting him in Nydia’s old play yard for safety’s sake. I on the other hand had no choice but to get up and prepare a meal. I was nearly falling asleep watching the stew pot on the fire when I felt someone come sit by me. My first thought was Nydia and I jerked awake not wanting to chance her getting burned trying to help but it was Mateo.
“I am capable of doing this small thing Leah,” he said in a tone of voice that let me know he was trying to hide his hurt that I would assume he was so incompetent he could do it.
Ignoring his near petulance I said, “Sorry, I thought you were Nydia. She sometimes wants to stir the pot, but I always worry she’ll burn herself.”
“I’m not Nydia.”
“No, you’re not. And if you truly don’t mind keeping an eye on it, I need to go wash my face.”
It was already getting dark behind the barn and I nearly tripped over him. It was light enough however to see his face when I really looked and the bile rose immediately in my throat. I nearly screamed when a hand went across my mouth.
“Don’t look Leah. Now swallow … swallow I say. Breathe … breathe … breathe. Now can you keep it down?”
I nodded and he removed his hand from my mouth. I realized that Mateo … my Mateo, not the broken man that I had found at the gate … was back.
“Go in the house.” When I tried to turn and object he said more forcefully, “Go in the house Leah. I … I will tend to this.”
Lord help me I took the coward’s way out and scurried back to the house. Butchering and dealing with animals’ remains was one thing, dealing with … with what was left of Greg was quite another. Mateo was outside for some time. When he came back in he dropped the security door and then turned to find me rocking the children both of whom were asleep. I looked at him and he came over to lift Neeno then stopped. “I am … dirty. I will wash up while you put the children to bed.”
I was tucking them both in when Nydia woke up and said, “Did Uncle Greg go to Heaven?”
I looked helplessly at Mateo who had just returned to the room and told her, “Yes.”
Her little eyes were too old for her face as she said, “Oh.” Then she started to panic. “Poppy … Nonny … you can’t go … don’t leave me …”
“Hush,” I told her gently but firmly. “Poppy and I are right here. We’re right here Love.”
It was but a moment before she fell back to sleep. I’m not sure if it was force of habit or what but I turned and buried my face in Mateo’s chest, seeking his strength. I don’t know how but he found strength to give me. He wrapped his arms around me and we rocked each other while the embers in the fireplace died low, sharing our strength back and forth until I couldn’t tell where his began and mine ended.
“Why? I thought he was doing better? I thought …He seemed …” I shuddered unable to finish the sentence because to say it was to admit that I was wrong. So wrong in fact that Greg could get my gun and shoot himself in the head rather than to stay with us. Was I then wrong about Mateo as well? I jittered in fear at the very thought.
“Shhhh. It isn’t your fault. Greg … for lack of better words to say it with … Greg made his choice. I don’t know why so we will have to let God deal with that. I won’t let him or his memory … for all that I’d come to love him as a brother … contaminate this place, us, what we have. He knew he had a place to stay as long as he wanted. I told him and he told me you said the same thing. I learned long ago that trying to change some people’s minds is like trying to hold the wind. It was hard to see unless you knew where to look, but Greg ran scared most of his life. He had reason to for a while, he was in a very bad place and was a broken man, but once he escaped that bit of his past he seemed to put everything he had into running from something. Remember that cloak and dagger act with the conspiracy theories? And then fighting what he thought was a losing war he was too afraid not to fight in.” Mateo shook his head sadly. “We need to rest.” I wanted to object but one look at his face and I realized Mateo was nearing collapse again. We lay down together, the first time we had slept so close since he had come back.
Sometimes the why’s in life are never answered. In the days that followed Mateo slowly regained his strength. There were times when shame would almost overwhelm him due to his physical weakness and finally I put my foot down and told him that he would not ruin his health by trying to get stronger too fast.
“You are bossier than you used to be mi Corazon,” he said one evening as we sat and talked after the children fell asleep.
Upset a bit I said, “I don’t mean to be bossy. I suppose I’ve gone too long having my own way and being the only one that I could count on.” When Mateo winced I quickly told him, “That wasn’t your fault and if you’ll use sense you’d know it. Maybe I needed to go through it – some of it anyway – so that I know that I can stand on my own two feet if necessary. I’d never really had to do that before, for a while there I wasn’t sure that I could. Give me some time to get used to having you around to count on again. I’ll try and not baby you too much, I know you don’t like it, but I’m just so glad that you are home and I want you to do everything to get well, whatever that takes.”
He got a decidedly male grin on his face, something else that had been returning slowly but apparently surely, “You make me feel like anything is possible.”
“Anything?” I whispered.
After a brief hesitation he said, “Perhaps … perhaps not anything, at least not tonight. But soon Leah … soon.”
The truth of it was that I had gotten used to being my own boss and it was a little difficult … ok, more than a little … to stop being the boss. I was accountable to no one but God and myself and perhaps I had grown a bit arrogant. Mateo wasn’t a child and it wasn’t right that I talk to him like I would talk to Nydia. He was a man, I needed to treat him as one; even if he was weak, and recovering, and not quite understanding or able to appreciate all of the effort and pain and work that I’d put into keeping us alive all of these months without him.
As I went over my feelings, I realized that I had a little anger in there that I hadn’t realized; perhaps more than a little. With the realization didn’t come total understanding but at least I was seeing a little more clearly. None of what I went through was Mateo’s fault, I really did believe that … do believe that. I was never a fatalist, but neither was I one of those drama queens always bemoaning my life and doing nothing about it. I knew I couldn’t force Mateo to stop trying to shove me back into the same mold I had been in before. To make it work and stick – these new strengths and weaknesses that we both had – I would have to show him and get him to work in partner with me.
I started by asking him if he was feeling up to going over what I had done over the time he had been away. I told him I hadn’t wanted to bother him with it before, but I’d had no adult to talk to and I trusted him to help me clear my head. I could see his reluctance and it hurt a bit but regardless of how he felt he agreed that it was time.
We talked almost through the entire night and then almost the entire next day as well. I couldn’t have done any work outside anyway because of the horrible storm we had but at the end I was as exhausted as if I had been working without break for days. Mateo was simply overwhelmed and shut down for a while. I left him sitting near the fire while the children played … Neeno had begun to pull himself up and creep from place to place holding on to things which meant putting him in Nydia’s old play yard for safety’s sake. I on the other hand had no choice but to get up and prepare a meal. I was nearly falling asleep watching the stew pot on the fire when I felt someone come sit by me. My first thought was Nydia and I jerked awake not wanting to chance her getting burned trying to help but it was Mateo.
“I am capable of doing this small thing Leah,” he said in a tone of voice that let me know he was trying to hide his hurt that I would assume he was so incompetent he could do it.
Ignoring his near petulance I said, “Sorry, I thought you were Nydia. She sometimes wants to stir the pot, but I always worry she’ll burn herself.”
“I’m not Nydia.”
“No, you’re not. And if you truly don’t mind keeping an eye on it, I need to go wash my face.”
Part 9-4
I got up and did what I needed to do and then on my way back through the kitchen I picked up the bowls and silverware and brought them with me. The stew was quickly ladled out and we ate though my appetite wasn’t good.
“You are upset,” Mateo said.
“I’m just rung out. It happens. I can go a long time unless I sit down and start worrying at it – not that we didn’t need to talk – but … it does take a lot of energy to go through it all again. I haven’t even started to show you the planting and harvesting calendar I have made up, the inventory … I don’t even know if you’ve been in the pantry and garage to look at how things stand.”
He sighed, “I saw the gator hides in the barn when I was looking for a shovel to … to deal with Greg’s remains. They didn’t register. They should have.”
I shook my head, “You had other things on your mind at the time.”
“But I do not now. I must stop burying my head in the sand. I knew that … logic told me that … Oh my Leah, mi Corazon.” He put his arms around me. “I knew that it would have been difficult for you, I simply was running from how difficult. And to see that … bah!”
“Bah is the sound that sheep make, and I don’t speak sheep. What has you so upset of a sudden?”
He snorted an unwilling chuckle. “You will think me crazy, but the truth is it … upsets me … to think you’ve been able to do so well without me.”
This time I snorted in a very unladylike way. “Oh please, look who is talking. Mister I was shot, got sick, and walked hundreds of miles with the only intent to get back to my wife and children. Unlike you I had food in my stomach and a roof over my head every single day. I could not have done that I don’t think.”
“Oh no, you only had our son by yourself in the middle of a nuclear disaster which you also managed to survive without my help,” Mateo said while rolling his eyes.
I couldn’t help it, I laughed. He looked at me affronted for a moment then joined in though more quietly. “Listen to us,” he said shaking his head. “But truthfully Leah, from here on out I do not want you to bear so much of it alone. I would like to look at your inventory and your pantry.”
“Not mine, ours. The inventory is the one we started together at the beginning of all of this, I just continued it. And the house was yours to begin with so don’t even go there either. Um, you do realize we still haven’t named our son?”
“What? I assumed …”
“Assumed what? Besides, you know what assuming will get you,” I answered him cheekily because I was so embarrassed. “I just couldn’t do it, not without you. Neeno is what Nydia called him in the very beginning and we’ve called him that so long that it will probably always be our pet name for him; but he really does need a proper one. I don’t want him coming to me when he is sixteen years old and turning into a man and asking me why he did doesn’t have a real name.”
Mateo sat down heavily at the table and just looked at me. The longer he looked the more upset and embarrassed I became. I started to turn away when he jumped to his feet and then he grabbed me and bent me backwards. His voice was all husky when he asked, “You … you will let me name our son? Even though I was not here?”
Not quite recovered from the sudden change in direction the conversation had taken I said, “I already told you I couldn’t bring myself to name him without you.”
He hugged me to him and kissed me and said, “Mi Corazon, mi vida …” and lots of other Spanish nonsense that Mateo tended to say to make my toes curl. He finally stopped and then looked at me and smiled. “This thing … this naming of the first born son … it is a very big deal in my family … was a big deal. As they said in that movie you like – Fiddler on the Roof – ‘Tradition!’ Not from my mother’s side but from my father’s.”
“Well …,” I said still trying to control the shivers his nonsense always caused. “Then let’s not break tradition.”
“Very well,” he grinned. After a moment, one in which I finally managed to regain my composure, he said, “Michael for my father and Benjamin for yours. Michael Benjamin Jakob. Do you like it mi Tesoro?” I showed him how well I liked it by entering it into the family Bible that had been handed down to me from my parents.
That was a turning point. We started to work together again. Mateo was at a bit of a loss trying to find his place in things, but we were both trying which helped immensely. It certainly didn’t hurt that May was fantastically busy. I filled … we filled … the raised beds that I hadn’t been able to before using dirt dug from old flower beds around the neighborhood and the compost from the rotating barrels in the barn. In these we planted more beans of all types, cantaloupes, sweet potatoes, summer squash, peanuts, peppers, and squash. It was normally the time that I should have planted okra and black-eyed peas as well, but the weather was much too cool for them to germinate properly. It was almost like we couldn’t get out of spring. The highs during the day would sometimes get up to seventy-five degrees but the lows at night could still dip into the forties. It had to have been lifetimes since Florida had experienced such whether this late in the season.
Everyday saw us bring at least a bushel basket of fresh food in. Mateo was stunned, hardly knowing what to pick for dinner since it all looked so good, while I was just happy to be able to preserve more food for the time I knew was coming when we would be without again. Despite the largesse I had to be very careful with our food. Adding an adult male shrank the amount of time that our food would last by more than a third. I made my portion size smaller or did without, but Mateo soon realized what I was doing and pitched a royal, male, very Hispanic fit. It had been so long since I’d seen how very macho he could get that I was actually rather … dare I say it … attracted. No, I wasn’t a glutton for punishment, nor would I risk setting him off like that on purpose but there is something about the male of the species simply being completely and totally male that is alluring. I know some women can get it all turned around and fall into the trap of picking the wrong type of man because of this but I on the other hand had the right kind and it was nice to be reminded of it even if it wasn’t in the most pleasant of displays. Call me crazy but I found myself paying more attention to my own appearance which actually made me feel better. It didn’t hurt that when I came out of the bathroom that night with my hair done and one of my nicest bed gowns that Mateo took several tries before he could say anything.
“You’ll get cold in that … that … er …”
Giving him a smile I said, “No I won’t.”
If Mateo had the energy to throw a completely male fit I certainly had the energy to stun him by being completely female. It took a bit of work for us both to get totally comfortable with the closeness again regardless of our desires but it was … hmmm … a bit like riding a bike I guess you would say; all it took was some practice. And we certainly practiced and found it enjoyable as a husband and wife should be able to do. We were however careful of the timing. As much as I love Neeno … and Nydia … I am in no way ready to be pregnant again and have another child. I know they say you forget the pain of childbirth as soon as you hold your baby in your arms but in my experience that was a bit of an exaggeration. I had no trouble remembering the pain though I do admit that it had all been worth it.
Despite the work I didn’t just plant vegetables around the yard. In the protection of the tree huts I planted sunflowers but then had to cover them with chicken wire when squirrels and rabbits found them. I also tried to plant some edible flowers with limited success. Begonias and Calendula did well but carnations not at all. The chrysanthemums did well since they never had to deal with the worst of the summer heat like they normally did by this time. The clover I planted in the neighboring yards spread faster than I expected, probably because the sand stayed a little damp since we were still getting regular rains. Daylilies and Sorrel did very well but the daylily buds also attracted other animals that tended to bend them over and ruin just as many as I harvested. The Hibiscus, even with me covering it with a pod to keep the cold temperatures from hurting it, didn’t look like it was going to bloom this year as it is more of a tropical. Common old geraniums did well and even grew in pots in the house but my roses suffered from black spot because of all of the dampness.
The herbs and such were doing well, and I had no trouble seasoning our foods or making teas. The coffee had long ago run out and Mateo said he did not miss it. As thin as he still was I was glad I didn’t have to worry about his body trying to metabolize that much caffeine. My window box of violets brought color into the house, but it didn’t look like I would be getting any yucca this year. Mateo loved the stuff and I had learned to cook it especially for him; it made me sad to wonder what else we would have to give up if the weather never went back to what it was before.
One of the best things that happened that month and which caused me to jump around and giggle like a giddy child when I noticed was that the blackberries were blooming; they should have bloomed back in March but they never did. They were blooming two months late so I began to wonder if perhaps they would also bare fruit two months late and I noted it in my calendar with hope. My mother had made a tonic from blackberry juice and I was constantly on the watch for anything that I thought might be good to continue Mateo’s healing and keep Nydia spritely.
I could have used the spritely as well. It was a lot of work keeping up with the garden, the house, the children, and Mateo. Mateo helped of course but he was still learning and was still not at full strength. The one load that Mateo did remove from my shoulders was the search for wood and cutting the bigger pieces. Though he was weaker than he used to be before he was taken away, he was still taller with a longer reach and the big axe certainly worked better in his hands than in mine. Taking this one task on gave me more time in the garden, time I sorely needed. Nydia would go with Mateo when he took the wagon and showed him the different places that we usually went, the trees that dropped their limbs most often, and the trees to avoid because they were the ones that made bad smoke. Mateo was stunned at how much she knew.
“Sometimes I worry that I’m pushing her too hard,” I told him, a little ashamed at how hard his little princess worked.
“Don’t. Worry I mean. My mother told me stories of when she was a child. Her parents and grandparents were products of the Great Depression. The things she told me that she had heard … children younger than Nydia acting as delivery boys along the store roads, acting as dishwashers in family restaurants, cleaning hotel rooms, helping in the laundries for the wealthier people … they survived and so will Nydia. She was spoiled … we both had a hand in it … at least this way she has some skills to get her through life if this … this … situation remains as it is for decades to come.”
There, it was finally on the table. The realization that our future may never hold more than what it was holding at that moment; work, the daily struggle for survival, the fact that we hadn’t seen a soul since Mateo arrived.
“I would have thought that Capt. Tag would have been back by now,” I muttered.
“You said that she did not promise,” Mateo reminded me.
“No, she didn’t promise. She even said she didn’t know if or when but still, it just seems strange. She was my contact, such as it was, to the outside world. The radio doesn’t bring anything but static anymore. I don’t know if it is because it was damaged or if there is simply no one out there transmitting.”
“There are others out there Leah,” he told me. “It simply does not have much range. You must remember this area is quarantined, off limits. I think the military let’s people believe it is because of radiation which creates a scare that keeps them away but in truth there is no radiation, at least not around here. It would just be too hard to manage people so they say, ‘if you go there you are on your own and you are triaged from receiving any help.’ It is probably that more than the threat of radiation that has people avoiding the area.”
“Mmmm. Maybe. I …” I never did finish my sentence. I was pulling a branch out of a tree when it came crashing right at my face.
I got up and did what I needed to do and then on my way back through the kitchen I picked up the bowls and silverware and brought them with me. The stew was quickly ladled out and we ate though my appetite wasn’t good.
“You are upset,” Mateo said.
“I’m just rung out. It happens. I can go a long time unless I sit down and start worrying at it – not that we didn’t need to talk – but … it does take a lot of energy to go through it all again. I haven’t even started to show you the planting and harvesting calendar I have made up, the inventory … I don’t even know if you’ve been in the pantry and garage to look at how things stand.”
He sighed, “I saw the gator hides in the barn when I was looking for a shovel to … to deal with Greg’s remains. They didn’t register. They should have.”
I shook my head, “You had other things on your mind at the time.”
“But I do not now. I must stop burying my head in the sand. I knew that … logic told me that … Oh my Leah, mi Corazon.” He put his arms around me. “I knew that it would have been difficult for you, I simply was running from how difficult. And to see that … bah!”
“Bah is the sound that sheep make, and I don’t speak sheep. What has you so upset of a sudden?”
He snorted an unwilling chuckle. “You will think me crazy, but the truth is it … upsets me … to think you’ve been able to do so well without me.”
This time I snorted in a very unladylike way. “Oh please, look who is talking. Mister I was shot, got sick, and walked hundreds of miles with the only intent to get back to my wife and children. Unlike you I had food in my stomach and a roof over my head every single day. I could not have done that I don’t think.”
“Oh no, you only had our son by yourself in the middle of a nuclear disaster which you also managed to survive without my help,” Mateo said while rolling his eyes.
I couldn’t help it, I laughed. He looked at me affronted for a moment then joined in though more quietly. “Listen to us,” he said shaking his head. “But truthfully Leah, from here on out I do not want you to bear so much of it alone. I would like to look at your inventory and your pantry.”
“Not mine, ours. The inventory is the one we started together at the beginning of all of this, I just continued it. And the house was yours to begin with so don’t even go there either. Um, you do realize we still haven’t named our son?”
“What? I assumed …”
“Assumed what? Besides, you know what assuming will get you,” I answered him cheekily because I was so embarrassed. “I just couldn’t do it, not without you. Neeno is what Nydia called him in the very beginning and we’ve called him that so long that it will probably always be our pet name for him; but he really does need a proper one. I don’t want him coming to me when he is sixteen years old and turning into a man and asking me why he did doesn’t have a real name.”
Mateo sat down heavily at the table and just looked at me. The longer he looked the more upset and embarrassed I became. I started to turn away when he jumped to his feet and then he grabbed me and bent me backwards. His voice was all husky when he asked, “You … you will let me name our son? Even though I was not here?”
Not quite recovered from the sudden change in direction the conversation had taken I said, “I already told you I couldn’t bring myself to name him without you.”
He hugged me to him and kissed me and said, “Mi Corazon, mi vida …” and lots of other Spanish nonsense that Mateo tended to say to make my toes curl. He finally stopped and then looked at me and smiled. “This thing … this naming of the first born son … it is a very big deal in my family … was a big deal. As they said in that movie you like – Fiddler on the Roof – ‘Tradition!’ Not from my mother’s side but from my father’s.”
“Well …,” I said still trying to control the shivers his nonsense always caused. “Then let’s not break tradition.”
“Very well,” he grinned. After a moment, one in which I finally managed to regain my composure, he said, “Michael for my father and Benjamin for yours. Michael Benjamin Jakob. Do you like it mi Tesoro?” I showed him how well I liked it by entering it into the family Bible that had been handed down to me from my parents.
That was a turning point. We started to work together again. Mateo was at a bit of a loss trying to find his place in things, but we were both trying which helped immensely. It certainly didn’t hurt that May was fantastically busy. I filled … we filled … the raised beds that I hadn’t been able to before using dirt dug from old flower beds around the neighborhood and the compost from the rotating barrels in the barn. In these we planted more beans of all types, cantaloupes, sweet potatoes, summer squash, peanuts, peppers, and squash. It was normally the time that I should have planted okra and black-eyed peas as well, but the weather was much too cool for them to germinate properly. It was almost like we couldn’t get out of spring. The highs during the day would sometimes get up to seventy-five degrees but the lows at night could still dip into the forties. It had to have been lifetimes since Florida had experienced such whether this late in the season.
Everyday saw us bring at least a bushel basket of fresh food in. Mateo was stunned, hardly knowing what to pick for dinner since it all looked so good, while I was just happy to be able to preserve more food for the time I knew was coming when we would be without again. Despite the largesse I had to be very careful with our food. Adding an adult male shrank the amount of time that our food would last by more than a third. I made my portion size smaller or did without, but Mateo soon realized what I was doing and pitched a royal, male, very Hispanic fit. It had been so long since I’d seen how very macho he could get that I was actually rather … dare I say it … attracted. No, I wasn’t a glutton for punishment, nor would I risk setting him off like that on purpose but there is something about the male of the species simply being completely and totally male that is alluring. I know some women can get it all turned around and fall into the trap of picking the wrong type of man because of this but I on the other hand had the right kind and it was nice to be reminded of it even if it wasn’t in the most pleasant of displays. Call me crazy but I found myself paying more attention to my own appearance which actually made me feel better. It didn’t hurt that when I came out of the bathroom that night with my hair done and one of my nicest bed gowns that Mateo took several tries before he could say anything.
“You’ll get cold in that … that … er …”
Giving him a smile I said, “No I won’t.”
If Mateo had the energy to throw a completely male fit I certainly had the energy to stun him by being completely female. It took a bit of work for us both to get totally comfortable with the closeness again regardless of our desires but it was … hmmm … a bit like riding a bike I guess you would say; all it took was some practice. And we certainly practiced and found it enjoyable as a husband and wife should be able to do. We were however careful of the timing. As much as I love Neeno … and Nydia … I am in no way ready to be pregnant again and have another child. I know they say you forget the pain of childbirth as soon as you hold your baby in your arms but in my experience that was a bit of an exaggeration. I had no trouble remembering the pain though I do admit that it had all been worth it.
Despite the work I didn’t just plant vegetables around the yard. In the protection of the tree huts I planted sunflowers but then had to cover them with chicken wire when squirrels and rabbits found them. I also tried to plant some edible flowers with limited success. Begonias and Calendula did well but carnations not at all. The chrysanthemums did well since they never had to deal with the worst of the summer heat like they normally did by this time. The clover I planted in the neighboring yards spread faster than I expected, probably because the sand stayed a little damp since we were still getting regular rains. Daylilies and Sorrel did very well but the daylily buds also attracted other animals that tended to bend them over and ruin just as many as I harvested. The Hibiscus, even with me covering it with a pod to keep the cold temperatures from hurting it, didn’t look like it was going to bloom this year as it is more of a tropical. Common old geraniums did well and even grew in pots in the house but my roses suffered from black spot because of all of the dampness.
The herbs and such were doing well, and I had no trouble seasoning our foods or making teas. The coffee had long ago run out and Mateo said he did not miss it. As thin as he still was I was glad I didn’t have to worry about his body trying to metabolize that much caffeine. My window box of violets brought color into the house, but it didn’t look like I would be getting any yucca this year. Mateo loved the stuff and I had learned to cook it especially for him; it made me sad to wonder what else we would have to give up if the weather never went back to what it was before.
One of the best things that happened that month and which caused me to jump around and giggle like a giddy child when I noticed was that the blackberries were blooming; they should have bloomed back in March but they never did. They were blooming two months late so I began to wonder if perhaps they would also bare fruit two months late and I noted it in my calendar with hope. My mother had made a tonic from blackberry juice and I was constantly on the watch for anything that I thought might be good to continue Mateo’s healing and keep Nydia spritely.
I could have used the spritely as well. It was a lot of work keeping up with the garden, the house, the children, and Mateo. Mateo helped of course but he was still learning and was still not at full strength. The one load that Mateo did remove from my shoulders was the search for wood and cutting the bigger pieces. Though he was weaker than he used to be before he was taken away, he was still taller with a longer reach and the big axe certainly worked better in his hands than in mine. Taking this one task on gave me more time in the garden, time I sorely needed. Nydia would go with Mateo when he took the wagon and showed him the different places that we usually went, the trees that dropped their limbs most often, and the trees to avoid because they were the ones that made bad smoke. Mateo was stunned at how much she knew.
“Sometimes I worry that I’m pushing her too hard,” I told him, a little ashamed at how hard his little princess worked.
“Don’t. Worry I mean. My mother told me stories of when she was a child. Her parents and grandparents were products of the Great Depression. The things she told me that she had heard … children younger than Nydia acting as delivery boys along the store roads, acting as dishwashers in family restaurants, cleaning hotel rooms, helping in the laundries for the wealthier people … they survived and so will Nydia. She was spoiled … we both had a hand in it … at least this way she has some skills to get her through life if this … this … situation remains as it is for decades to come.”
There, it was finally on the table. The realization that our future may never hold more than what it was holding at that moment; work, the daily struggle for survival, the fact that we hadn’t seen a soul since Mateo arrived.
“I would have thought that Capt. Tag would have been back by now,” I muttered.
“You said that she did not promise,” Mateo reminded me.
“No, she didn’t promise. She even said she didn’t know if or when but still, it just seems strange. She was my contact, such as it was, to the outside world. The radio doesn’t bring anything but static anymore. I don’t know if it is because it was damaged or if there is simply no one out there transmitting.”
“There are others out there Leah,” he told me. “It simply does not have much range. You must remember this area is quarantined, off limits. I think the military let’s people believe it is because of radiation which creates a scare that keeps them away but in truth there is no radiation, at least not around here. It would just be too hard to manage people so they say, ‘if you go there you are on your own and you are triaged from receiving any help.’ It is probably that more than the threat of radiation that has people avoiding the area.”
“Mmmm. Maybe. I …” I never did finish my sentence. I was pulling a branch out of a tree when it came crashing right at my face.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you very much.
Part 10: Year Without a Summer Redux (Part 1)
When endlessly before you summer lay
And as in the deep, crimson dusk you stir
Your soul joins with the birds in wistful brood
Crying for lost summer days, for childhood
-Shannon Georgia Schaubroeck
Nydia squealed, danced backwards taking Neeno with her as it darted toward them hissing. Mateo swung at it with the machete he had been using to trim branches but missed. After my initial scare all I could do was grab the small quilt I had brought for the children and toss it over the beastie. Oh it made a horrible racket but eventually settled down in the dark. I looked at Mateo and he at me. Nydia had run to hide behind him and was peeking at the lump it made from behind his hip.
I sat down and then just about had a fit. Mateo asked, “Leah? Are … you all right?”
I finally laughed the laugh that I’d been trying to hold in. “You know how they say you should be careful what you pray for because you just might get it?” At his nod I continued, “Did we or did we not talk about wanting some chickens or a goat or some other livestock a couple of days ago?”
Before I had even finished his lips were twitching. “Ah yes. I had forgotten this.”
“Forgotten what?”
“How you see answered prayers in the oddest things. And pray how, mi Amor, do you plan on caging that mad goose? If he is going to be that way I’d as soon eat him.”
Nydia asked, “Will he taste as good as duck?”
That set me off again and Mateo could only smile and shake his head before going back to trimming the limbs so that we could bundle them and secure them in the wagon better. It felt good to have someone to laugh with. I had laughed with Nydia on occasion but laughing with a child is different than the laughter that comes when two adults are sharing something humorous.
But he was right, how on earth was I going to deal with a crazy goose. I absentmindedly gathered the goose’s feathers that he had lost as he fell out of the tree … more of a bush really since the top had been blown out of it during one of the bombing runs. I decided that I would just pick the goose up in the quilt like it was in a tote sack and hopefully it wouldn’t hurt itself. I knew where I could put it until we could build a chicken yard for it; one of the larger “tree huts” would work well for this, one of the ones without the bees in it. The one that I had discovered the baby grasshoppers in would probably suit the noisy thing to a tee.
As a matter of fact when I did put it in there it pinched my leg hard enough to bruise so I decided to call it Bruiser. I watched for a few moments as it tried to get out and then the mean thing caught sight of the grasshoppers and it found something more to its taste to expend its energy on. The reason that Mateo and I had been talking about livestock was because we sat down and truly faced our predicament. I had been getting by, but I didn’t have a fully fleshed out plan for the future. Once Mateo started to get his health and strength back his true personality started to reassert itself. A primary element of his makeup is that he has always been a planner … especially in the financial arena. Once our assets were measured in coins and paper; no more. These days our assets are measured much differently … food, water, fuel, and shelter.
The garden is our stock market where we invest our sweat and assets like seeds. The wood pile is our longer-term investments like bonds and a 401K. Water is a return on an investment of work that we then reinvest. The pantry and the house and the barn are our bank vault where we store our wealth. The guns and ammo are our security to keep thieves from taking what is ours.
I know that is a bit oversimplified, but I think that is how Mateo looks at it, how he is reintegrating his talents into our lives. He knows what is really important; in his words “God, mi Corazon, y mi ninos which are our future.” But Mateo is not one to sit back. He was raised with a strong work ethic; if you don’t work then you don’t eat. When we first met that work ethic was played out behind a desk; these days his hands and body are as callused and lean as they were once soft and his mind is once again as sharp as it ever was. He is still the same man I married, but he is more as well. And I’m thankful for it.
“Leah, you have created a good base for us to work from. I give you all the credit for that. You took what we pooled our resources for in the beginning and have greatly expanded the return. But we need to be careful that we don’t grow complaisant, expecting the same return for the same input. Anything could happen … bad weather, bandits, the government … anything. We need to expand.”
“Expand?!” I yelped. After thinking it over I said, “Well, I suppose I could add more raised beds to the front of the house. It’s just that I was trying to not be too obvious from the road.”
“No mi Corazon, although more raised beds would not be bad if we can find the materials. What I mean is that we need to diversify.”
“More trees?” I asked flummoxed.
He shook his head in the negative. “Animals. I wish now we had not been so short-sighted as to have eaten the chickens.”
Finally beginning to see where he was going I said, “Well, I’m not sure how I would have taken care of them after the bomb fell. Mostly it was due to lack of feed and the fact that they had stopped producing eggs that we culled them.”
“Yes, we had our reasons but hindsight is 20/20 mi Tesoro. I would give a lot to have them back now. There is no telling when we will be able to replace them.”
I was remembering that conversation as I put the last few finishing touches on supper including the Split Pea Bars that I had made to celebrate getting our first farm animal. Those bars sound disgusting to the uninitiated, but they are actually pretty good all things considered. You cook dry split peas until you have a really thick soup and then you add in some milk – I used some of my precious powdered milk – then add in a bunch of other spices and sweetenings and a little flour and powdered eggs. I also added raisins for a little extra. I wished I’d had some nuts to add but we ran out of those a long time ago which was just one reason why I hoped that the peanuts I had planted would make.
Mateo was helping by feeding Neeno which was a job in and of itself now that we were trying to get him to eat some pureed vegetables while Nydia sat the table for the rest of us. “Mateo?”
“Hmm?” he responded while trying to aim the baby spoon at the hungry little mouth that hadn’t quite figured out that you can’t expect a mortal to actually shove something in if it is moving a mile a minute.
Smiling at the sight I asked, “Where do you think the goose came from? I mean, I’ve never seen any wild geese around here before. I didn’t think Florida was really in their fly zone.”
“I was wondering that as well. I think … it’s just a theory … that the change in weather patterns may have driven some birds and other animals off their normal migration paths.”
“OK but that goose doesn’t look like a wild goose, at least not that I’ve ever seen. It is kind of … well … farm-looking.”
Mateo looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “Farm-looking Ms. Teacher?”
“Smart aleck,” I grouched back good-naturedly. “Would you prefer farmish or farmly? You know what I mean. It looks like the kind of goose that is normally raised on a farm – domesticated – not one that should be flying around loose. Although I suppose domesticated animals can go feral. I know pigs certainly can.”
“Leah, I don’t have the answer. My only real concern at the moment is if the goose is not wild … or feral as you mentioned … then where are the humans that brought in these farmly birds.”
I threatened to throw a wet rag at him which started Nydia laughing before we all sat down to eat. After Mateo said Grace we continued with his train of thought. “We should re-secure the barn. Yes, I know that is a problem but I was already thinking of doing it anyway since we don’t know how many people could be traveling through the area. I would also like to start salvaging more parts from the other houses that remain in this area, particularly windows, doors, hardware, mirrors, lumber … we could rearrange the stalls in the barn so that we can keep it organized as it comes in.”
“And we are doing this now instead of if and when we need that stuff because why?” I asked concerned at the idea of adding one more thing to my already long list of chores.
“In the future I suspect that salvage will be a big business. Perhaps not as big as local manufacturing has the potential to be, perhaps not as big as lumber either, but until commercial industry starts back up people will be very dependent on salvage either for their own purposes or …”
“Or what?” I asked as he fell silent in thought.
“Leah, I know I’m stating the obvious here but there are simply some things that we can’t make. Either neither one of us has the skill or perhaps not the supplies. For instance, while I was gratified to see that we still had all of the ammunition ...”
“Except what I’ve used for hunting gator.”
He shuddered, “Do not remind me. The very idea of you … don’t, the last thing I need is more nightmares ... we’ll talk of your hunting animals big enough to snap you in half later. What I’m saying is there are things like the ammo that we will eventually have to replace. The fewer things that we have to purchase outright the better. We have the precious metals still hidden but you can’t eat them and right now people are more concerned with feeding their families, keeping them warm, and maintaining a roof over their heads. Perhaps some survivalist types in their bunkers and citadels are trading gold and silver but the common man is not.”
“Honestly Mateo, they weren’t that big. The biggest was only a five-footer. OK, ok,” I said when he gave me a look. “So who exactly do you think we are going to be trading with? It has been months since … well, since not long after Neeno was born … that I saw my last military personnel. After that it was those three kids I told you about. Then it was you … and … and Greg. Not a single other living soul.”
“And God put a hedge of protection around you mi Corazon. There are people out there, lots of people, and not all of them nice and friendly. The population of this country … of the world … has fallen quite a bit, probably on the order of a deadly pandemic, but not on the order of ninety plus percent of the human race as was in some of those apocalyptic novels your father like to read. The depopulation however is patchy. In some places you’ll find humans removed completely from the food chain and in others what few people have been lost have been replaced by emigrants from other areas. Your only contact with the outside world came from your Capt. Taglione and you said yourself that she was in charge of a large refugee center some ways from here … though I did wish you knew where. In my experience those refugee centers have as one of their primary goals rehabilitation and relocation of their inmates.”
“Inmates? I thought those refugee camps were sanctuaries. You make it sound like prison.”
“Trust me when I say this Leah, for many those camps are exactly that albeit unintentional ones. They are told when to get up, when to sleep, who they may associate with as populations are broken down into manageable blocks based on age and sex and whether they are single or a family; they are forced to work to help the camp be as self-supportive as possible, the food is barely enough to keep the children from crying but not enough to keep the adults from complaining, illness runs rampant and medical supplies and medicines are in as short supply as the food is. Guards walk around with automatic weapons and despite this show of force you have unspeakable crimes committed because you cannot completely weed out all of the troublemakers and criminals. It is not a place I would want my family to be if I had anywhere else to go.”
I had to believe Mateo, he had seen it with his own eyes, and it gave me an even greater appreciation of our home. “I can’t imagine trying to have a baby in that environment. I’m so glad I didn’t give into the temptation of trying to get to one of the collection points.”
“Do not get me wrong, most of the camp staff try and do their best, they are simply overwhelmed and many of them are in the same boat as the refugees; their homes are gone or inaccessible, family is missing, their former jobs are gone and their future is uncertain. Some do take their stress out on the refugees but not most by any stretch. You also have incompetence, too few staff for too many refugees, entitlement mentality on all sides. Some camps are better than others. I was a guard in one that was basically set up for criminals and troublemakers.”
“The one you met Greg at?”
“Yes, and the one before that as well. They tried to move us around so that we would not develop any attachments or get too friendly. I can understand their point. but it wasn’t as efficient as it could have been either.”
Knowing Mateo I said, “And let me guess, you told someone that as well.” A sheepish grin was confirmation enough that I shook my head. “You are lucky you didn’t wind up one of those prisoners rather than a guard.”
“I am not stupid Leah,” he said with a grin. “I knew where to draw the line at my … er … helpfulness. And the guards had other ways to make things better when we could.”
“Oh … you didn’t … oh yes you did. Mateo! You could have been in so much trouble … even danger!”
“I said nothing!” he bluffed.
“Don’t give me your nothing. You got involved in something didn’t you?”
Mateo grinned like a naughty schoolboy. “The less said the better, and it was months and months ago and no longer matters except as a remembered bit of satisfaction.”
“Honestly,” I muttered. Mateo just chuckled, and we finished our dinner and I shooed them out to the family room after they helped me to clear the table. I needed space to think and washing the dishes out on the lanai gave it to me.
Part 10 - 2
I loved having Mateo home, but it certainly was changing things. I just hoped he remembered that I was just one person that already had several full-time jobs. I was glad that Mateo was well enough to start making plans, but I worried that he would get a head of himself … and me … and all of the things I was trying to do to keep us fed. After Neeno and then Nydia were put to bed … both going willingly after Poppy read them some story … the subject came back up.
“Leah, now that you have had time to think on it, do you have any idea whether it is feasible that the goose could have flown or migrated since you think it is a domestic bird?”
“Hey, I didn’t teach biology remember,” I told him wondering exactly what he thought was my knowledge base.
“No, but you grew up … different … from what I experienced. You started out with skill sets that I’m still trying to acquire, and you have an innate way of thinking of things that is … creative.”
I blushed in the dark but for the sake of argument I conceded, “OK, so I was raised differently than you. Our talents lie in different areas that’s all, though they overlap perhaps more than you admit. But growing up we never had a menagerie of animals, we couldn’t afford them. The neighbors had dogs … oh never mind, I’m getting off the topic.”
“And? Your thoughts on our topic?”
“All right, I have thought about it. It’s hard not to. I’ve seen birds of course, a lot of them once the cats disappeared, but nothing like that goose. I’ve seen ducks, I’ve even fed you roasted duck, but only when there aren’t too many gators in the ponds and canals. Speaking of which, whether you like it or not we need to go on another hunt; we need more meat and the bigger gators have the turtles and ducks avoiding the area.” Mateo sighed unhappily but I ignored it and continued. “I took a look at Bruiser again and I don’t think … think mind you … that he is a domesticated bird, not completely. He reminds me of the ducks that I used to see in the parks with Nydia that were mixed domestic and wild. It is obvious that Bruiser can fly after a fashion; most domestic breeds of geese can’t, they’re too heavy and their feathers are too short. But that bird isn’t completely wild either; he became content to be for all intents and purposes caged up much more quickly than I think a wild goose would that had all of the instincts to fly. The most Bruiser has done is fly, or rather jump with his wings to give him a boost, up into the lower branches of the grapefruit tree and roost once evening starts to fall. Which in and of itself is kind of strange because I didn’t think geese roosted in trees.”
Giving what I had said some thought, “So you think maybe we have a hybrid or mixed breed bird. Do you think there are more?”
“I haven’t got the foggiest idea. In the morning when it is light I’ll look and see if any of my parents’ books have information in them on geese. The Carla Emery book probably does – it is very exhaustive – but I’m not sure it has the information that we specifically need. I’m not sure how geese tend to group themselves as far as their living arrangements go. I’ve rarely seen ducks, geese, and chickens walking around by themselves but I don’t know if that was because of the setting I saw them in or by natural inclination.”
Mateo nodded his head. “It will be interesting to see what you find. Can you tell whether our goose is a male or female?” I had to laugh at that and he smiled. “Yes, I know … wallet or purse. But won’t that determine whether we keep her or eat him?”
“I hope it is a her. If we can keep her fed she might give us some fresh eggs.”
“Er … are goose eggs … uh … do they taste …”
I patted his leg as we were sitting very close enjoying the dying embers of the fire before going off to bed ourselves. “Goose eggs and duck eggs are bigger than chicken eggs. If I remember, duck eggs are about twice the size of chicken eggs and a goose egg is equal to about four chicken eggs. Used to be in the old days that geese and ducks were prized above chicken eggs partly for this reason and partly because they were more self-sufficient than chickens. Learned that in St. Augustine on a field trip as a matter of fact. But chicken eggs are really the only ones that you can boil in their shells with good results.”
“So asking for your Deviled Eggs would be out I suppose,” he said disappointed.
“’Fraid so Novio. But goose and duck eggs are great for scrambling which is something I really don’t like to do with the powdered eggs we have left.” We both made a face remembering the few times that I had tried it. “They are also good for baking and sweet breads. The protein is higher as well which is something you need, well something we all need given the work that we are doing. You know, something that just entered my mind, I don’t know if Bruiser turns out to be male if we should eat him for a while.”
“Why?”
“Well, if he does fly and has migrated from out of the area, shouldn’t we be careful that he hasn’t migrated through an area with radiation?”
The look on Mateo’s face told me he hadn’t thought of that either. He kissed my temple and muttered, “Mi brillante Teroso.” Well that kind of led to an entirely different subject and we never did get back around to talking about livestock.
The next day, while hunting a gator … more like shooting fish in a barrel in one of the canals since we took three medium sized ones to the gratitude of all of the turtles and other animals in the area … we found two other geese that looked very similar to Bruiser and were just as cranky and noisy. I don’t care whether geese have teeth or not, their bills can leave nasty pinches that ouch for hours. I also thought to see if we could find a nesting duck but the gators must have pushed them out of the area. Mateo and I added a screened in run onto the tree hut and in the following days the geese were able to leave the hut without us worrying about them flying away. It also gave the birds a chance to get more exercise, stretch their wings, and to forage for themselves. My hope was that eventually they would become so tame that I could let them wander in the garden without having to worry about them flying away.
The high water did cause one problem that got on my nerves. Water moccasins. Surprisingly Mateo had no problems with the snakes and in fact was very good at relieving us of their presence. I found out that he’d learned how as one of the camps he had worked at was right next to a swamp in south Florida. He showed me how the guards would skin, clean, and cook them to add to their meager ration allotments. The swamp was both the reason for his lack of fear of the snakes and his unreasonable dislike of gators.
“We would have some people escape and on several occasions we would find … parts of them … at the edge of the swamp. They’d obviously fallen to local predators, gators being the most common but boa constrictors were another problem. I saw two separate attacks on guards as well. They didn’t allow us any light as we patrolled the outside of the fence in case it drew the enemy and … let us just say that it was gruesome.” It made his dislike of the reptiles understandable but given they were our primary source of large game I couldn’t afford to let his prejudice get in the way.
The workload became such that in the mornings I would stay at home to do most of the gardening while Mateo would walk the neighborhood in search of things to salvage. One day he was gone hours longer than he had before and I became frantic with worry. When he did come home, exhausted but triumphant, I burst into tears and ran inside. It was a bump that happens in most marriages, but he had just about scared me to death. He wasn’t a child I needed to monitor the movements of all the time, but I was still learning to trust that he wouldn’t disappear on me again.
The days settled into a pattern and as it turned out Bruiser was a male as Mateo had caught him “in the act” so to speak with the other two. The other bit of evidence came from the occasional egg that I found … and never provided by Bruiser. Following the directions I found in a couple of my mother’s books I built nesting boxes, rearranging their pen a bit, and soon I was getting a goose egg from each goose every couple of days until Mateo and I decided to leave them to see if any would hatch.
The weather was often a topic of conversation. Would it rain yet again, or would we have a clear day so we could stay dry while we get all of our work done? Would the sun shine enough for the plants? Would it warm up enough for a seeds to germinate? For it to be June in Florida it was still significantly cooler than it should have been; a daily high that rarely reached eighty and only if there was no cloud cover – which wasn’t often – to night time lows that could fall into the low fifties. One day we started discussing how long the strange weather patterns would continue and I brought up a topic that I had been thinking about for some time.
“Mateo have you ever heard of the Year Without A Summer?”
“Should I have?” he asked in return. When he saw the outraged look on my face he said, “Ah, la profesora is about to deliver a lecture.”
“Yes I am. I can’t believe … oh you!” The look on his face gave him away.
“You will remember how many of those historical documentaries you forced us to watch?”
“Hey! You said you enjoyed them!”
He laughed at my outrage. “Of course I did Leah, I’m just playing.”
I snorted my lack of appreciation for his sense of humor. “Well, tell me if you don’t think that it is applicable here.”
“Perhaps you should remind me,” he admitted.
“Hah! I knew it.” But I smiled anyway before starting the history lesson. “The year was 1816. In Northern Europe and much of North America temperatures were reported at historical lows all year long. It was believed at the time by the scientists of the day that several converging reasons caused the unusual weather. First off there was historic low solar activity … spots or what have you. But the largest reasons were atmospheric abnormalities caused by several large volcanic eruptions that dumped dust and gases into the air. This cycle started prior to the year without a summer. In 1812 there were two eruptions, one in Indonesia and one in the Caribbean. In 1813 there was one in Japan. In 1814 there was one in the Phillipines. The largest occurred in early April of 1815 when Mount Tambora erupted in Indonesia. It had been nearly 1,700 years since the world had seen an eruption that large and it made international news, even in the young USA.”
Mateo sat back, interested in spite of himself.
“The weather event was bad but not necessarily the worst of it. Because of the weather there were widespread crop failures. First there was famine, then food riots. Ireland experienced a typhus epidemic directly attributed to the famine that killed over 100,000 of its people. Fatality figures for places like Switzerland were double what were seen in other years. Crop failures were reported all over Europe and in New England. China experienced devastating rice crop failures. Summer snowfalls were reported even in areas where winter snowfall wasn’t normally guaranteed to occur.”
He asked, “And this correlates how exactly? I understand if you are talking about a nuclear winter yet that isn’t what we are having … the earth encased in snow and ice because the sun has been blotted out by radioactive dust in the atmosphere.”
Knowing he referred to one of the worst-case scenarios of nuclear war I told him, “OK, bear with me. I’m trying to put together some of the things Dad talked about, known world history, and what we are experiencing now. We’ve apparently had either a very limited nuclear exchange or sufficient bombs going off that it has thrown enough dust into the air that it has disrupted our weather patterns. That is what Capt. Tag confirmed in her note. My concern is not necessarily what caused the weather pattern change so much as how it correlates to a similar occurrence from history. The year 1816 started out normally in January. By spring the weather was noticeably different from what it should have been. It was also dry enough, long enough to be considered a drought period along with the cold snap. Following the drought above average precipitation occurred which likely correlates to our own current overabundance of the wet stuff lately. Historically, after this period of extra precipitation the weather turned even colder moving into the winter. But, it really wasn’t the cold which was only a few degrees off normal that resulted in the catastrophic conditions but the cumulative effects that were the result of the crop failures; skyrocketing prices and famine which in turned caused fatalities from famine and disease at historically high rates.”
I was gratified to see that Mateo was really listening to me now and not just humoring me.
“The year 1816 was … well, not localized exactly but it didn’t have a total worldwide environmental effect. There were areas of the world that completely escaped any kind of significant effect. Historically it compares to some other events such as weather effects caused by the eruption of the volcano Santorini in 1620 BC I think that all but crippled the Minoan culture; the collapse of the Bronze age by the Hekla 3 eruption in 1200 BC; the weather disturbances caused by the eruption of Krakatoa in 535 AD ; the eruption of a volcano in Peru in 1600 I think that caused the coldest weather in the northern hemisphere for six centuries and which likely caused the Russian famine of that same year; the eruption of Laki in Iceland in 1783 which led to thousands of fatalities in Europe; the severe year of blizzards in the Laura Ingalls Wilder book the Long Winter could very well have been caused by a volcanic winter; and even the eruption of Mt Pinatubo in 1991 caused some wonky weather here in the states during the following months.”
“Wonky weather?”
“Strange, unusual patterns … mild where it was expected to be bad and bad where it should have been mild. Now from there we need to move into our current situation. We don’t know how widespread the bombs were nor how widespread the dust and debris is in our atmosphere. We don’t know if the war continues in places, including more bombs. We don’t know if it is confined to the Northern Hemisphere or if the Southern Hemisphere has also been affected. We don’t know if bombs set off other environmental disasters like earthquakes, volcanoes, and who knows what all. Certainly we’re lucky in this area that the canals and retention ponds along the highway have been able to contain the water or at least funnel it away from our home and yard preventing us being flooded out. The swamp has spread, but not appreciably in our direction; I think the earlier drought actually saved us in that respect.”
“I have a feeling you are about to make a point that I’m not going to like,” he said with a sigh.
I nodded. “My point being is that the situation got worse before it got better and that the change in weather patterns lasted more than a single year. I don’t necessarily know that it is going to get a lot worse than what we’ve already experienced as far as the weather goes but I am concerned about the cumulative effect from the results of the change in weather patterns. I do suspect based on previous historical evidence however that it may be another year or three or five before our weather patterns return to what we are used to.”
Mateo was silent for a long time. “I cannot change what God has wrought or man has wrecked … but that doesn’t mean that we cannot do as Joseph did and store up good things for the bad times.”
As soon as he said it some of the pressure that I had felt building disappeared. “So you don’t think that I’m nuttier than a fruitcake?”
He looked at me, blinked, and then said, “I happen to like your fruitcake.” It was so unexpected that I nearly laughed. “No Corazon, I do not think you are crazy. I am not quite sure what to think but I know that you would not risk airing your theory if you did not believe it was possible. And you support your theory well … unfortunately well enough that I begin to see the possible problems ahead of us. But if I remember that documentary, they stated that innovation also came out of that period of tribulation.”
I nodded and said, “Supposedly the lack of oats from the year without a summer drove a man to invent what was to become a precursor of the modern bicycle, it forced emigration into the Heartland of our country as people sought better land to grow things on, and a scientist who experienced the famine as a child began experimenting with plant nutrition and eventually introduced mineral fertilizers.”
“So. It does not have to be all bad … but in order to enjoy the good that comes out of the tribulation we must survive it. It is going to mean work … and taking some risks … but I do not see a choice. Do you?”
I loved having Mateo home, but it certainly was changing things. I just hoped he remembered that I was just one person that already had several full-time jobs. I was glad that Mateo was well enough to start making plans, but I worried that he would get a head of himself … and me … and all of the things I was trying to do to keep us fed. After Neeno and then Nydia were put to bed … both going willingly after Poppy read them some story … the subject came back up.
“Leah, now that you have had time to think on it, do you have any idea whether it is feasible that the goose could have flown or migrated since you think it is a domestic bird?”
“Hey, I didn’t teach biology remember,” I told him wondering exactly what he thought was my knowledge base.
“No, but you grew up … different … from what I experienced. You started out with skill sets that I’m still trying to acquire, and you have an innate way of thinking of things that is … creative.”
I blushed in the dark but for the sake of argument I conceded, “OK, so I was raised differently than you. Our talents lie in different areas that’s all, though they overlap perhaps more than you admit. But growing up we never had a menagerie of animals, we couldn’t afford them. The neighbors had dogs … oh never mind, I’m getting off the topic.”
“And? Your thoughts on our topic?”
“All right, I have thought about it. It’s hard not to. I’ve seen birds of course, a lot of them once the cats disappeared, but nothing like that goose. I’ve seen ducks, I’ve even fed you roasted duck, but only when there aren’t too many gators in the ponds and canals. Speaking of which, whether you like it or not we need to go on another hunt; we need more meat and the bigger gators have the turtles and ducks avoiding the area.” Mateo sighed unhappily but I ignored it and continued. “I took a look at Bruiser again and I don’t think … think mind you … that he is a domesticated bird, not completely. He reminds me of the ducks that I used to see in the parks with Nydia that were mixed domestic and wild. It is obvious that Bruiser can fly after a fashion; most domestic breeds of geese can’t, they’re too heavy and their feathers are too short. But that bird isn’t completely wild either; he became content to be for all intents and purposes caged up much more quickly than I think a wild goose would that had all of the instincts to fly. The most Bruiser has done is fly, or rather jump with his wings to give him a boost, up into the lower branches of the grapefruit tree and roost once evening starts to fall. Which in and of itself is kind of strange because I didn’t think geese roosted in trees.”
Giving what I had said some thought, “So you think maybe we have a hybrid or mixed breed bird. Do you think there are more?”
“I haven’t got the foggiest idea. In the morning when it is light I’ll look and see if any of my parents’ books have information in them on geese. The Carla Emery book probably does – it is very exhaustive – but I’m not sure it has the information that we specifically need. I’m not sure how geese tend to group themselves as far as their living arrangements go. I’ve rarely seen ducks, geese, and chickens walking around by themselves but I don’t know if that was because of the setting I saw them in or by natural inclination.”
Mateo nodded his head. “It will be interesting to see what you find. Can you tell whether our goose is a male or female?” I had to laugh at that and he smiled. “Yes, I know … wallet or purse. But won’t that determine whether we keep her or eat him?”
“I hope it is a her. If we can keep her fed she might give us some fresh eggs.”
“Er … are goose eggs … uh … do they taste …”
I patted his leg as we were sitting very close enjoying the dying embers of the fire before going off to bed ourselves. “Goose eggs and duck eggs are bigger than chicken eggs. If I remember, duck eggs are about twice the size of chicken eggs and a goose egg is equal to about four chicken eggs. Used to be in the old days that geese and ducks were prized above chicken eggs partly for this reason and partly because they were more self-sufficient than chickens. Learned that in St. Augustine on a field trip as a matter of fact. But chicken eggs are really the only ones that you can boil in their shells with good results.”
“So asking for your Deviled Eggs would be out I suppose,” he said disappointed.
“’Fraid so Novio. But goose and duck eggs are great for scrambling which is something I really don’t like to do with the powdered eggs we have left.” We both made a face remembering the few times that I had tried it. “They are also good for baking and sweet breads. The protein is higher as well which is something you need, well something we all need given the work that we are doing. You know, something that just entered my mind, I don’t know if Bruiser turns out to be male if we should eat him for a while.”
“Why?”
“Well, if he does fly and has migrated from out of the area, shouldn’t we be careful that he hasn’t migrated through an area with radiation?”
The look on Mateo’s face told me he hadn’t thought of that either. He kissed my temple and muttered, “Mi brillante Teroso.” Well that kind of led to an entirely different subject and we never did get back around to talking about livestock.
The next day, while hunting a gator … more like shooting fish in a barrel in one of the canals since we took three medium sized ones to the gratitude of all of the turtles and other animals in the area … we found two other geese that looked very similar to Bruiser and were just as cranky and noisy. I don’t care whether geese have teeth or not, their bills can leave nasty pinches that ouch for hours. I also thought to see if we could find a nesting duck but the gators must have pushed them out of the area. Mateo and I added a screened in run onto the tree hut and in the following days the geese were able to leave the hut without us worrying about them flying away. It also gave the birds a chance to get more exercise, stretch their wings, and to forage for themselves. My hope was that eventually they would become so tame that I could let them wander in the garden without having to worry about them flying away.
The high water did cause one problem that got on my nerves. Water moccasins. Surprisingly Mateo had no problems with the snakes and in fact was very good at relieving us of their presence. I found out that he’d learned how as one of the camps he had worked at was right next to a swamp in south Florida. He showed me how the guards would skin, clean, and cook them to add to their meager ration allotments. The swamp was both the reason for his lack of fear of the snakes and his unreasonable dislike of gators.
“We would have some people escape and on several occasions we would find … parts of them … at the edge of the swamp. They’d obviously fallen to local predators, gators being the most common but boa constrictors were another problem. I saw two separate attacks on guards as well. They didn’t allow us any light as we patrolled the outside of the fence in case it drew the enemy and … let us just say that it was gruesome.” It made his dislike of the reptiles understandable but given they were our primary source of large game I couldn’t afford to let his prejudice get in the way.
The workload became such that in the mornings I would stay at home to do most of the gardening while Mateo would walk the neighborhood in search of things to salvage. One day he was gone hours longer than he had before and I became frantic with worry. When he did come home, exhausted but triumphant, I burst into tears and ran inside. It was a bump that happens in most marriages, but he had just about scared me to death. He wasn’t a child I needed to monitor the movements of all the time, but I was still learning to trust that he wouldn’t disappear on me again.
The days settled into a pattern and as it turned out Bruiser was a male as Mateo had caught him “in the act” so to speak with the other two. The other bit of evidence came from the occasional egg that I found … and never provided by Bruiser. Following the directions I found in a couple of my mother’s books I built nesting boxes, rearranging their pen a bit, and soon I was getting a goose egg from each goose every couple of days until Mateo and I decided to leave them to see if any would hatch.
The weather was often a topic of conversation. Would it rain yet again, or would we have a clear day so we could stay dry while we get all of our work done? Would the sun shine enough for the plants? Would it warm up enough for a seeds to germinate? For it to be June in Florida it was still significantly cooler than it should have been; a daily high that rarely reached eighty and only if there was no cloud cover – which wasn’t often – to night time lows that could fall into the low fifties. One day we started discussing how long the strange weather patterns would continue and I brought up a topic that I had been thinking about for some time.
“Mateo have you ever heard of the Year Without A Summer?”
“Should I have?” he asked in return. When he saw the outraged look on my face he said, “Ah, la profesora is about to deliver a lecture.”
“Yes I am. I can’t believe … oh you!” The look on his face gave him away.
“You will remember how many of those historical documentaries you forced us to watch?”
“Hey! You said you enjoyed them!”
He laughed at my outrage. “Of course I did Leah, I’m just playing.”
I snorted my lack of appreciation for his sense of humor. “Well, tell me if you don’t think that it is applicable here.”
“Perhaps you should remind me,” he admitted.
“Hah! I knew it.” But I smiled anyway before starting the history lesson. “The year was 1816. In Northern Europe and much of North America temperatures were reported at historical lows all year long. It was believed at the time by the scientists of the day that several converging reasons caused the unusual weather. First off there was historic low solar activity … spots or what have you. But the largest reasons were atmospheric abnormalities caused by several large volcanic eruptions that dumped dust and gases into the air. This cycle started prior to the year without a summer. In 1812 there were two eruptions, one in Indonesia and one in the Caribbean. In 1813 there was one in Japan. In 1814 there was one in the Phillipines. The largest occurred in early April of 1815 when Mount Tambora erupted in Indonesia. It had been nearly 1,700 years since the world had seen an eruption that large and it made international news, even in the young USA.”
Mateo sat back, interested in spite of himself.
“The weather event was bad but not necessarily the worst of it. Because of the weather there were widespread crop failures. First there was famine, then food riots. Ireland experienced a typhus epidemic directly attributed to the famine that killed over 100,000 of its people. Fatality figures for places like Switzerland were double what were seen in other years. Crop failures were reported all over Europe and in New England. China experienced devastating rice crop failures. Summer snowfalls were reported even in areas where winter snowfall wasn’t normally guaranteed to occur.”
He asked, “And this correlates how exactly? I understand if you are talking about a nuclear winter yet that isn’t what we are having … the earth encased in snow and ice because the sun has been blotted out by radioactive dust in the atmosphere.”
Knowing he referred to one of the worst-case scenarios of nuclear war I told him, “OK, bear with me. I’m trying to put together some of the things Dad talked about, known world history, and what we are experiencing now. We’ve apparently had either a very limited nuclear exchange or sufficient bombs going off that it has thrown enough dust into the air that it has disrupted our weather patterns. That is what Capt. Tag confirmed in her note. My concern is not necessarily what caused the weather pattern change so much as how it correlates to a similar occurrence from history. The year 1816 started out normally in January. By spring the weather was noticeably different from what it should have been. It was also dry enough, long enough to be considered a drought period along with the cold snap. Following the drought above average precipitation occurred which likely correlates to our own current overabundance of the wet stuff lately. Historically, after this period of extra precipitation the weather turned even colder moving into the winter. But, it really wasn’t the cold which was only a few degrees off normal that resulted in the catastrophic conditions but the cumulative effects that were the result of the crop failures; skyrocketing prices and famine which in turned caused fatalities from famine and disease at historically high rates.”
I was gratified to see that Mateo was really listening to me now and not just humoring me.
“The year 1816 was … well, not localized exactly but it didn’t have a total worldwide environmental effect. There were areas of the world that completely escaped any kind of significant effect. Historically it compares to some other events such as weather effects caused by the eruption of the volcano Santorini in 1620 BC I think that all but crippled the Minoan culture; the collapse of the Bronze age by the Hekla 3 eruption in 1200 BC; the weather disturbances caused by the eruption of Krakatoa in 535 AD ; the eruption of a volcano in Peru in 1600 I think that caused the coldest weather in the northern hemisphere for six centuries and which likely caused the Russian famine of that same year; the eruption of Laki in Iceland in 1783 which led to thousands of fatalities in Europe; the severe year of blizzards in the Laura Ingalls Wilder book the Long Winter could very well have been caused by a volcanic winter; and even the eruption of Mt Pinatubo in 1991 caused some wonky weather here in the states during the following months.”
“Wonky weather?”
“Strange, unusual patterns … mild where it was expected to be bad and bad where it should have been mild. Now from there we need to move into our current situation. We don’t know how widespread the bombs were nor how widespread the dust and debris is in our atmosphere. We don’t know if the war continues in places, including more bombs. We don’t know if it is confined to the Northern Hemisphere or if the Southern Hemisphere has also been affected. We don’t know if bombs set off other environmental disasters like earthquakes, volcanoes, and who knows what all. Certainly we’re lucky in this area that the canals and retention ponds along the highway have been able to contain the water or at least funnel it away from our home and yard preventing us being flooded out. The swamp has spread, but not appreciably in our direction; I think the earlier drought actually saved us in that respect.”
“I have a feeling you are about to make a point that I’m not going to like,” he said with a sigh.
I nodded. “My point being is that the situation got worse before it got better and that the change in weather patterns lasted more than a single year. I don’t necessarily know that it is going to get a lot worse than what we’ve already experienced as far as the weather goes but I am concerned about the cumulative effect from the results of the change in weather patterns. I do suspect based on previous historical evidence however that it may be another year or three or five before our weather patterns return to what we are used to.”
Mateo was silent for a long time. “I cannot change what God has wrought or man has wrecked … but that doesn’t mean that we cannot do as Joseph did and store up good things for the bad times.”
As soon as he said it some of the pressure that I had felt building disappeared. “So you don’t think that I’m nuttier than a fruitcake?”
He looked at me, blinked, and then said, “I happen to like your fruitcake.” It was so unexpected that I nearly laughed. “No Corazon, I do not think you are crazy. I am not quite sure what to think but I know that you would not risk airing your theory if you did not believe it was possible. And you support your theory well … unfortunately well enough that I begin to see the possible problems ahead of us. But if I remember that documentary, they stated that innovation also came out of that period of tribulation.”
I nodded and said, “Supposedly the lack of oats from the year without a summer drove a man to invent what was to become a precursor of the modern bicycle, it forced emigration into the Heartland of our country as people sought better land to grow things on, and a scientist who experienced the famine as a child began experimenting with plant nutrition and eventually introduced mineral fertilizers.”
“So. It does not have to be all bad … but in order to enjoy the good that comes out of the tribulation we must survive it. It is going to mean work … and taking some risks … but I do not see a choice. Do you?”