Renewal 8 - War Council (2 page)

There was an aura about the place. None of us could identify it. Dad’s engineering eye was probably trying to decide which part of the swaybacked roof would collapse first. Mom was likely looking at the moss and lichen clinging to every unused surface. She visibly counted the multiple pairs of muddy boots congregating by the door. Arturo was not paying attention. Sally Bean’s house was a short walk from our new campsite, but it was a long pull for Arturo. His leg was getting better, he said. It only hurt when he moved. The rest of us were standing once again on the threshold of something completely new, another doorway into the murky future.

Mom started to knock, but Bear tugged on a heavy rope tied to the outer door, and pulled it open. He used his stupendous canine length to hold it in place with his hip while he pushed the inner door open. He did his level best to move to the side, letting us enter the house. When all eight of us had passed through the door, the dog deftly moved to let the storm door wing shut. He stepped in and used his hind leg to close the heavy inner door. He seemed to know that we were impressed. His floppy lips parted in a cocky grin.

“That you, Bear?” Sally Bean called from the kitchen.

Bear barked once.

“Well, bring ‘em back!”

It was one of those houses in which the inside and the outside seemed completely disconnected. Inside, the house was warm, cozy and spotless in a 1935 kind of way. Every piece of furniture was covered in some form of hand knitted cloth, all in riotous patterns and colors. Set against the muted brown walls and wooden floor, the rainbow effect seemed perfect. A heavy rag rug framed the center of the living room, and more colorful afghans were clipped to the curtain rods on top of lacy white curtains. These were pulled to the side with metal spring clamps on the windowsill to let in the morning light. The photos on the walls showed at least five generations, and of the set, only about a fifth of the images were in color. By the time we entered the kitchen, the biggest disconnect was that Sally had one of those houses that seemed twice as big as it had appeared from the front yard.

The kitchen was bigger than the living room, so long that it almost extended back in time. The front section was relatively modern, again in that 1935 style, but as the room extended back to a tiny mudroom, everything seemed to change gradually into the model kitchen from “Amish Monthly” magazine. Cast iron, hardwood countertops, baked white enamel, and hand cranks dominated the back of Sally Bean’s home. The kitchen table was made from a single piece of white oak, the product of a tree that had probably been growing when the last ice age retreated. It was maybe five feet wide and twelve feet long, with enough colonial oak chairs to seat half the people pictured on the walls of the living room.

“Howdy, folks. Go ahead and take your seats. Any one you like. We don’t stand on ceremony around here, do we Bear?” Sally said with a laugh.

Bear woofed twice, gently. He was happy to have some new people around, I imagine. New people for dogs mean people who don’t know the rules, and that in turn means snacks.

“Ok, David. I’m holding up my end over here, slaving over this hot stove. How about you tell me what’s been going on in the world?”

He did, and now we were still waiting for a reaction, and some pancakes - or flapjacks as Sally called them.

When she had finally cooked to her satisfaction, Sally retrieved the mountainous plates of pancakes, sausage, and biscuits from the oven with her bulky oven mitts. She placed them one at a time on  cast iron trivets placed on the table, and went back for a stack of white stoneware plates along with a handful of silverware. The napkins were in line with the cloth color theme of the house. Any old color at all, but since we had spent months wiping our mouths on our sleeves, I took my pink napkin and loved it. I ended up sitting across from little Jimmy, whom Bear had identified as the most likely sucker, and I tried to decide which one of them was drooling harder. Then I checked my own lips, just in case.

Sally’s water situation was better than the backyard hand pump at the Carroll’s farm. One of the three sinks in her kitchen had its own hand pump. She filled glasses with water and scattered them around in front of us, while we busied ourselves passing plates and silverware. Judging by my parents’ reactions, Sally performed a full scale miracle when she brought mugs to the table, and poured actual coffee into them.

“You have coffee...” Dad said, nearly hypnotized.

“Why sure. Plenty. You mean...” Sally replied, and then stopped. “Oh, I see your point. No stores, no coffee.”

Dad nodded.

“It think it’s going to take me a little while before this Breakdown idea sets in,” Sally remarked. “Meantime, dig in. Don’t let it get cold!”

We ate, and it was incredible. For the pork sausage alone, I would have traded my entire pre-Breakdown video game collection. There was no maple syrup for the pancakes, but Sally had brought Mason jars of strawberry jam and sliced peaches to the table, and there was never a sweeter candy than that sugary fruit after a starving winter.

“So Sally, how long have you lived out here alone?” Mom asked with the tone that indicated that a woman living alone in the woods seemed pretty crazy. “My husband, Fred, and me came out here when I was eighteen. He was older than me, and my mama didn’t like him much, so we came out from Nashville to make a new life. It was right before The Big War and we got this land for next to nothing. Paid cash, stood in the middle of the woods and said, “Yep. This is the place.” Took us all summer to build the first part of the house, and almost three years to clear enough forest to grow our food. Back then, you could make a decent living growing food.”

Sally stopped for a moment and collected her thoughts. “Anyway, Fred died in 1985. No reason in particular, I guess. He was just old. So, I’ve been out here ever since.”

“Do you have children somewhere?” Mom asked quietly.

“Naw... Couldn’t have kids. Not sure whether it was because of me or because of Fred. By the time anyone said they could give us a straight answer, it was too late to worry about it.” Sally said with a matter-of-fact tone. “Besides, I got Bear here. He eats enough for three kids. Right Bear?”

Bear barked once and grinned. It was one of their inside jokes.

“What about the neighbors?” Mom asked, continuing her series of practical questions.

“Oh, there’s some good ones, and a few bad apples, just like any place else. Old Joe Miller comes by to check on me from time to time. I think he’s got the hots for this old lady.” Sally replied, winking for effect. We laughed through our stuffed mouths. “I haven’t seen him for a long while, now that I think of it. I figured he was holed up from the cold, having dreams about me.” Sally cackled madly at her own joke.

Looking at her more closely, and without her heavy outdoor gear, I realized she was much older than the impression she cast. The wrinkles around her light blue eyes were deep, and the whites of her eyes were a filmy mixture of colors. Her silver hair was cut raggedly short, like she cut it herself whenever it got in her way. The confusion came from her skin, which didn’t have the transparent look of the elderly, and from her neck. It wasn’t smooth exactly, but it didn’t flop around like a turkey waddle either. If I looked at her from the corner of my eye, I saw a pixie-like young girl holding her elbows high to reach the table.

So, David. You sound like a clever young fella. What do you think this weather is going to do?” Sally asked with her face turning serious.

“I think we’re looking at the peak of summer right now. I’m not sure whether anything is going to sprout at all this year. Maybe everything is dead.”

“Naw. It ain’t dead. It’s just sleeping. When the time is right, most of it will bounce right back, but you’re telling me it’s not happening this year.” Sally folded her napkin and set it on the table.

“I don’t think it will. I’m hoping it won’t get as cold as last winter, but I think it will get cold, and I think it will start early again. Nobody really knew what nuclear winter would do. All the studies were based on limited wars, and the results might as well have been wild guesses. They were all over the place.” Dad said, shrugging to make his confusion known to all.

“Well, then... I guess we’ll be the first ones to know.” Sally said, matching Dad’s shrug with her own.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Sally, what did you think was going on?” Mom asked.

“Oh, I thought all that talk of global warming came true, ‘cept they got it backwards,” Sally Bean replied with a twinkle in her eye. “They get it backwards all the time, about all kinds of things. Seemed like as good a guess as any.”

“I guess so. I might have come up with the same idea if it weren’t for my smart husband.” Mom replied. The two women shared a baffling look that was apparently sent in woman-code.

“Let me ask you a question, Beth. What are you folks going to do? Where will you go?” Sally watched carefully as she asked.

“I honestly don’t know. We’ve been stumbling from one lucky situation to another. We just had to get away from those men. I don’t know what the plan is now. Maybe David can say...” Mom answered.

Dad thought for a few seconds. “Well, we can look around for an empty place and try to get ready for another cold winter. We can go south and hope that we end up somewhere we can camp out... That’s about as far as I’ve gotten.”

“Here’s how I see it, David... Beth...” Sally held her chin as she spoke. “I’m not a young girl anymore. This place is a full time job, and I’ll be honest. I’ve been falling behind the past few years. How about if you folks stay here and help me around the farm? I have food and good shelter. And even better, you don’t have to drag your family out looking for a place you might never find. It’d be a real favor if you’d say yes.”

Mom and Dad gave each other a look, and then looked at Arturo, who smiled and shrugged. I imagine he was thinking the same thing I was thinking. Once again, we were the luckiest family in the world.

“Yes, Sally. We would be grateful to accept your offer,” Dad said with an open smile.

“Good. I hope you still feel that way after you milk the cows. Let’s finish up and I’ll give you the tour.” Sally said, grinning with satisfaction. “Hear that, Bear? No more hogging the couch.”

Chapter 8 – 3

Terry looked across the lawn just east of Teeny Town. White canopy tents had been erected for shade from the summer glare. The new crowd of people from Beech Grove were wandering about with a bemused look on their faces as members of the community greeted them and made them feel welcome. Sam was standing in the rippling heat of his massive black barbecue trailer flipping cuts of meat and chicken with a quick, practiced hand. Tables had been quickly assembled into rows and little girls were roaming among the newcomers, handing out icy glasses of water and smiling. These folks may have come for war, but they found a carnival instead – a county fair with guns.

Seth was having similar thoughts. He slid up beside Terry and said, “Man, we should have a war every week.”

“Know what you mean, Big Guy.” Terry replied. “I’m not sure what to think of all of this.”

“Well, it’s new territory for me, too. We’ve had to fight for things before, here and there, but we’ve never done anything like this.” Seth rubbed his hand across his jaw and shrugged.

“Have you talked to John? Who’s going to the Jenkins farm?” Terry asked.

“Don’t know, but I’d be mighty surprised if we don’t get called up,” Seth replied. “John took off right after the meeting.”

“Well, we might as well say hello and see if we can grab some of that barbecue.”

“Let’s start with Larry.  He’s over there.” Seth started walking in that direction.

Terry followed a couple of steps behind, noticing that Aggie had started with her usual efficiency. A crew of teenagers was a hundred yards to the north, beginning the process of setting up olive drab tents in an orderly grid. Larry was lost in thought, staring into the distance when they reached him.

“Hey, Larry. It’s good to see you,” Terry said, extending his hand.

“Hey, fellas. This is a nice setup you got here.” Larry replied, shaking both hands firmly.

“Thanks, Larry. Don’t give me any credit.“ Terry replied. “I’ve been here about six weeks longer than you.”

Seth grinned. “That’s right. Give me the credit. It was all me.”

“Don’t listen to him, Larry. But in a way, he’s right. Bill had to build all this just to keep this big guy fed,” Terry said with a chuckle.

Larry laughed along with Terry while Seth pretended to be wounded by the statement. “I can see where he might need a pretty big field to keep those muscles puffed up,” Larry teased, and then slowly let his features settle. “I’m kind of lost, though. What should I do next?”

“Well, if I’ve learned anything about this place, there’s a plan. Just relax, have some lunch, and wait until someone tells you,” Terry replied. “Other than that, I don’t know any more than you do.”

Larry looked at Seth, hoping for a better answer. Seth noticed and said, “Don’t look at me. They don’t tell me nothing until it’s too late for me to escape.”

“Ok. I’ve been worrying for so long, I guess I don’t know how to relax.” Larry idly picked at his fingernails, and let his breath out in a long sigh.

“Where’s your family?” Terry asked, changing the subject.

“Oh, they’re around here somewhere. I’ll introduce you, first chance,” Larry replied. “Wait. There’s Tate, over by the barbecue.”

“We’ll go say hi,” Terry said. “Take it easy, Larry.”

“Ok, boys. Later....”

Terry and Seth wandered in the direction of Larry’s oldest son, smiling and sending cheerful hellos as they wove through the crowd. When they reached Tate, the young man was excited to see them.

“Hey, Terry and...” Tate said, fumbling for the name.

“Seth,” Seth said, wrapping Tate’s hand in a potentially crushing grip. Seth had long since learned the nuances of grip management, and stopped short of breaking any bones.

“”Hi, Tate. We just spoke to your father,” Terry said. “I just wanted to say thanks for talking him into all this.”