Burn District 1 (12 page)

“If it’s gas, we might need it,” Kelly said, picking it up.

“We can use kerosene, too.” We followed Steve into the house. The roof was burned; we could see daylight through the rafters when we got inside. Turning to me, I could see his concern; what if there were bodies.

“Do you want to wait here for me to check?” But I shook my head. I was on a mission for two things, food and a back up sewing machine for my daughter. The house was two stories and the first level was relatively undisturbed. The power off, it was still light outside, so we could see where we were walking. The kitchen was toward the front of the house. I opened the freezer and it was cold, the food frozen solid.

“I’m taking their frozen food,” I said, pulling a plastic grocery bag out of my pocket. I loaded up first one bag, then the second, with frozen packages of meats and vegetables, some convenience foods, a half gallon of ice cream. “I can’t believe I’m getting ice cream.” I tried to keep the glee out of my voice.

“Laura,” Kelly called. “Come back here.” I followed her voice to the wing of the house where there was an office and a bedroom. She was pointing to a table on which a newer model sewing machine stood.

“No way,” I said. “I’m taking it.” She started opening drawers and closets.

“What do we need?”

“Sheets. Blankets. Toiletries and soap, unopened toothpaste.”

“It doesn’t get that cold,” she said.

“This isn’t the only house,” Steve said, coming to find us. “Grab what you want and let’s move on.” I gave him the bags of frozen food and looked for the case for the sewing machine. Carin would be so happy.

I didn’t want to leave anything behind. What we got from this house meant less looting elsewhere and I told my dad. Their printer and computer, boxes of printer paper; it was all coming back with us.

We took everything out of the house and piled it in the back of the truck. Steve looked up at the sky.

“It’s getting late. I want to get you back to the camp before the sun goes down. Mike and I can come back with flashlights and the trailer. And I want that car, as well.” We nodded our heads and got back in the truck.

“Try to find a freezer,” I said. A freezer or two would be key.

“There was a bank of solar panels in one of the yards that looked untouched by the blast.” We made the trip home in silence. I didn’t know what the others were thinking, but I felt guilty benefiting from the misfortune of others. It would become a way of life in spite of my feelings.

The men made a trip back and forth to the neighborhood several times, yielding trailers full of items including guns, ammunition and a gun safe, a camouflage parachute of netting we’d place over our camp, two chest freezers, enough solar panels to provide power for us when the electricity eventually went off, and several bicycles.

Chris was doing much better; up to eat his meals with the rest of the family, resting during the day, taking short walks around the camp. Elise was his nurse, and she was like a hawk, making certain he was eating and drinking, that his wounds were healing. By handing over the responsibility for Chris to my daughter, the growing intimacy between them was obvious. This was a new world, and everyone would grow up fast.

We had our different jurisdictions of responsibility. Of course, mine was my children. Ned was still a child and although he worked along side the men during the day, he needed time off to play and I scheduled playtime into the mix. Junior was thriving under the care of my father. He worked the boys all day organizing materials, making a game out of it, but getting the job done. The list of salvage printed by Junior’s obsessively neat hand was a record of what Steve had collected; lumber, old windows, nails, tools, fencing, machinery. He’d also looted wheelbarrows, enough for each person to have his own. It was a familiar sight, a boy pushing a wheelbarrow of materials.

Steve and Junior made trips into the surrounding burned out areas, including the warehouses of the farms nearby, going into the burn district one morning to look for pumps and hose. There was an irrigation ditch across the road that he wanted to try to utilize rather than leaving the water to evaporate. It would mean a thousand feet of hose, but he was determined. When the truck returned, Mike pointed and yelled. “Someone’s following Steve.” I jumped off the deck to join Mike.

“That’s Junior driving,” I said, shocked. We’d never considered that he would drive. But it made perfect sense now. He didn’t need a license, and he was as careful about rules as anyone was. As they got closer, I saw smiles on both their faces. My dad stopped his truck and Junior pulled behind him, stopping with inches to spare. He got out of the car with a huge grin.

“Grandpa taught me to drive!”

“I see that,” Mike replied. We gathered around to hear the story of their adventure, another car for the fleet, and enough hose to pump water onto our land. That night in bed, Mike and I whispered about our new concerns, losing control of our kids, allowing others to influence them, relaxing the strident perimeters we kept in place when we lived our past life in an urban area. Certainly, it would be more dangerous here, forcing the children to grow up, to take on more responsibilities, and everyone letting go of selfish motives.

Mealtime had taken on a routine. There were so many people to feed and no one wanted to be designated the full time chef. Carin, Carol and I cooked a load of food gleaned from the burn districts. We roasted chickens, beef roasts, massive pots of spaghetti sauce and meatballs, pans of macaroni and cheese. As long as the lunchmeats held out, we’d serve sandwiches for lunch everyday. It didn’t escape anyone that Kelly was never around until it was time to eat, the only female who didn’t participate in meal preparation.

Steve and Randy rigged a refrigerated truck in the camp so I had a massive walk in freezer at my disposal. For the time being, food was not going to be an issue. One thing Kelly did do was plan a large garden using seeds Steve found.

The sheds, trailers and running cars we were accumulating made our camp feel like a small city. A scavenged vintage trailer, parked on the other side of the fifth wheel became Carol and Randy’s private cottage.

Unexpected guests occasionally showed up at camp. We’d discussed camouflaging the driveway, removing my dad’s unused mailbox from the entrance, but too late. A group of friends fleeing from the north pulled in after getting their second flat tire in the dead of night. We could hear the motor and the gravel flinging as they came down our driveway. Later, Randy would say he’d considered shooting them dead, but the tiny woman looked like a young girl from his window and he couldn’t kill a child.

“This is private land,” Randy shouted to the group. “You’re trespassing.” His voice woke my dad who came out of the fifth wheel with his shotgun pointed.

“We just need help with a flat tire,” a young male voice called out. “If you have a spare we can buy, we’ll be on our way.” My dad flipped a flashlight on low, shining at the group.

“You’re endangering all of us with your headlights glaring. Get ‘em off.” The lights flipped off. In the pitch-black night, with the flashlight aimed at their faces, the reality I had diminished to preserve my sanity came back to me. We were in a precarious position, there in the Arizona desert.

“What size tire do you need?” Mike called. There was whispering, a car door opened and a match lit as a figure squatted down by the side of the car, calling out numbers. Mike disappeared behind the trailer, coming out in minutes rolling a tire along in front of him. With the gun aimed at the group, they set about opening the truck and getting jacks out, fumbling in the dark to get the tire off the car as the other stood around in the cold. No one offered them a warm place to rest or even a drink of water. We were all on guard.

The tire was too small, but it wasn’t flat, and after forty-five minutes, the party left. If they were upset with the unhospitable nature of the visit, no one said anything. But Randy drove one of the new/old car acquisitions down to the entrance to our camp and sat there for a while with a gun. Then he parked it so it blocked the driveway and walked back in the dark to the camp.

The next morning at breakfast, it would be Chris and Elise who would upset the equilibriums of our new life, emphasizing how little control Mike and I had over our own children.

“I finally woke up out of my stupor last night when the visitors arrived,” Chris said. “I am much obliged to you all for looking after me, but I want to leave here and see if my family survived.”

“Where are you from?” Carol asked.

“Yuma. But I heard Steve say looters you all met on the road said Yuma got burned. I’d like to see for myself.”

“I’m going with him,” Elise said. Voices rose in protest. Mike stood up shushing us.

“You’re only sixteen,” he said softly.

“I know, Dad, but I’ll be seventeen soon and Chris loves me.” We turned to Chris and he was looking at her with pride.

“I do love her. And Elise said she loves me. I’ll borrow a gun if you’ll lend it; I know how to use one. And a car. And money, if you’ll give it. Someday, I hope to repay you.”

“How will you live?” I asked. It was difficult to do it with an army of people. I couldn’t imagine going it alone.

“The same way you are, Mom,” Elise said. “Looting.”

“What if you run into renegades?” Randy asked. “Raiders.”

“We’ll be okay,” Elise insisted, pushing away from the table. “I want to go with Chris and if it means facing problems, we’ll deal with them as they come along.” I looked at my husband and he nodded his head toward our bedroom, the only place we could be alone.

“Can we talk to you privately?” Mike asked Elise, standing next to her. He was ignoring Chris and I understood why. We were angry. After we rescued him, he’d selfishly risk our daughter’s safety so he could be with her. Standing up, Elise put her hand on Chris’s shoulder and left with me. Mike stayed behind for a moment to address Chris.

“You are a very selfish young man,” he said. “You’re thinking about yourself, not our daughter. I’m sorry you were ever brought back to our camp.”

He appeared to be ready to speak up, but thought better of it. Mike hurried to our room to talk with Elise. I was occupying her, going through my closet, picking out items I thought she might need. “Supposedly, rain falls in the winter here,” I said, throwing my rain coat on the bed.”

“What will
you
wear?” Elise asked.

“We have slickers from camping. How about a package of underpants?” I held up a six pack of standard issue cotton briefs, full coverage. Normally, she would never even consider wearing such a thing. We laughed together, but she nodded.

“My period is here again.” I put the package down on the bed.

“No way,” I said. “It’s not time.”

“It’s early by a week. I got it the day we left to come here. It’s stress.” I nodded, reaching under my bed for a large box of sanitary products. Mike hoarded them for me whenever he saw any.

“You better take these, too,” I said. She sorted through the packages of pads and tampons, and for the future, maternity pads.

“Mom, are you trying to tell me something?” Elise asked, looking at my midsection.

“Ha! No way! But I have two daughters and there’s always Kelly. You just don’t know what the future will bring. We have to collect this stuff when we come across it.”

“Someday we won’t have places to loot,” she replied sadly.

“That’s a long way off. I had a dream last night that we found an abandoned Wal-Mart.” Elise laughed.

“Oh, Mom, that is almost not funny,” she said, smiling. Mike walked through the door, and I worried Elise might misinterpret his anger. I wanted to go to him, but I stood still, at the side of the bed, adding tampons to the growing pile.

“I’m so upset right now, I don’t want to say anything I’ll regret,” Mike said. Elise went to him right away. My heart jumped a little; my pride in my daughter was overwhelming. She was so smart, and so wise.

“Daddy, forgive me, please. I’m in love with Chris; if he left without me, I’d be miserable with worry.” I could see Mike decompress with her words, her hands on his arms. It made sense to me; she wasn’t a child any longer. If he asked, I’d say I was in support of her going, but only if he asked me.

Mike shook his head. There was no argument. He didn’t want her to go, but was powerless to stop her, short of tying her to a bed. “At least take a gun,” he said. I agreed. Going anywhere unarmed was foolhardy now.

We packed her belongings into a duffle bag while Randy and Mike decided on which sidearm to give them, and Steve and Junior picked out a car for them, a newer model compact that got good gas mileage. It had a full tank of gas, with two five-gallon cans in the trunk.

“If you get three hundred miles away and can’t find a station, head back here,” he informed Chris.

“Yes sir,” he answered, thanking everyone, saying he was sorry, all the right things. Kelly and Carin packed enough food for them to eat for a few days without having to stop anywhere. What would bother me the most was not knowing where they were or how they were doing.

Communication channels were down; my dad talked to other looters and picked up some information that way, but I knew because I had tried to contact my sister. I didn’t tell anyone I was going to do it. After the men left for a looting session, I hid in my bedroom with my phone charging, and turned it on. There was no signal. That night, I asked my dad if he’d heard anything about the internet and he confirmed it; no one had been able to log on.

“What about landlines?” Randy asked. My dad shook his head.

“I try every house I go into and no one has a dial tone.”

“We’re the first compound off the interstate. The next time a stranger comes here with a flat tire, let’s pump them for info instead of acting like a bunch of hysterical hillbillies,” I said. I thought my father-in-law was going to faint.

“Mike, you’d better straighten out your wife,” he said. But Carol agreed with me.

“She’s right, Randy. If someone pulls up and you have a gun aimed at their head, what danger is there going to be to ask them what the news is?” Randy shrugged his shoulders.