The Alpha Chronicles (15 page)

Bishop smirked and cupped his ear. “Could you repeat that, sonny? I couldn’t be sure, but it sounded almost like you said you were denying me access to those close-in parking spots?”

Bishop, tired from the journey, headed off with Nick to find, “any comfortable horizontal surface.” Terri felt a strong urge to be
out and about, a victim of hospital-induced cabin fever. She decided to get a feel for Alpha’s new popularity, keenly interested in how the town was handling the boom. The greeting she and Bishop had received as they entered the community sparked her interest in discovering how Diana had organized the processing of new arrivals.

“It’s a work in progress,” commented Diana
. “We interview each new settler about what they did before the collapse. We document what type of skills and education each person has. Then we match folks with housing, municipal projects and self-reliance training. We are still refining how this procedure works.”

“What kind of improvements are you working on?”

“I don’t really know all of them. After our electric grid came back up, we were flooded with people approaching us with new ideas for our reconstruction and reorganization. One group is working on cleaning out two of the school buildings so we can start classes again. Another family solicited help converting their taxidermy business into a butcher shop. And believe me when I tell you that we need a butcher
yesterday
. Plus, we have teams taking inventory of abandoned buildings while other crews are listing the contents that haven’t been looted. This flurry of activity makes it difficult to keep track of what everyone is doing so that we can effectively match people to jobs.”

“How are you feeding everyone?”

“Pete is sending vendors our way. When merchants don’t sell all of their goods in Meraton’s market, he suggests they drive up here and trade with us. So far, the church has been buying all the food we can get from those suppliers in addition to two of the local ranchers who are providing beef and chicken. We’ve planted over a dozen gardens, but it will be a while before they produce. Hunters have been bringing back the occasional deer, and we have two teams who have been foraging the local forests for anything palatable.”

Terri thought about the organization for a while as the two women strolled up and down Main Street, waving to friends and noting the progress.

Terri said, “Diana, I want Bishop and me to pull our own weight. He’s limited in what he can do, but maybe we can help you keep track of some of the initiatives you are organizing.”

“Sounds good to me. I find myself completely overwhelmed by the workload. I’ll take any help I can get.”

“I want to get going first thing in the morning. Where do you suggest I start?”

After pondering Terri’s question for a moment, Diana pointed toward the courthouse lawn. “Meet me up here in the morning, and you can work with one of the welcoming teams. That’s really our most important job right now. Maybe you can figure out a way to streamline the whole mess.”

After a quick breakfast, Terri rushed off to the courthouse and found Diana already hard at work.

“I’m working on my first new city ordinance, and it is one complex issue.” Dianna announced. “I want very few laws for the citizens of Alpha, but I think all our folks have to participate in food production. While we all know that starvation is simply unacceptable, even the potential of a food shortage could destroy everything we’re trying to build.”

Terri agreed, “Hunger can
be a negative influence on law and order, too. Desperate people do desperate things to avoid starving. But how are you going to legislate how food is produced?”

“We’re not. We have to leave it up to the individual to determine if they want to hunt, gather, or grow – perhaps some combination of the three. What is absolutely critical is that everyone produces enough at a minimum to feed themselves and their family.”

Terri’s finger found her chin, her mind clearly processing information along her mental neuro-highway. “I think the biggest issue is going to be a lack of knowledge. Take me, for example. I was a city girl. I’d be unable to do any of those things to produce food for myself.”

Diana replied, “I
n fact, the first formally sponsored training organized is going to address this topic. We’re going to establish ‘continuing education classes’ on how to garden, hunt, or identify edible foodstuffs.”

Terri grinned, “Bishop needs to attend the gardening class. His little patch back at the ranch was faring poorly when we left.”

“I’ve been surprised at how many green thumbs we’ve got around here. Some residents have already planted oversized gardens that will eventually produce more than required by their families. They saw the need early. On the other hand, we’ve got a few people who are not naturally inclined to produce calories by any method. They represent a challenge to contribute to the anti-hunger initiative.”

“Alpha should follow Meraton’s model. For those who don’t want to hunt or grow, gathering and bartering can be the answer. We can organize family trips to the valleys and gather food there. Bishop and I took a little hiking vacation up into the mountains a while back. It was like one of those old television commercials were they talk about harvesting nature’s bounty. I bet there are some citize
ns who can act as tour guides and nature experts. If they can show people which nuts, berries, nettles, and greens are okay to eat, I bet your citizens would line up to attend a class like that. You might even be able to find someone who has knowledge of using herbs to promote health and wellbeing.”

Diana nodded, “Yes, you are right. The classes need to address the need of our residents to promote attendance. But what do we hope the classes will accomplish? I initially thought we need to set food production quotas based on the number of family members, but that wouldn’t work. Big framed men eat more than thinner
individuals. Older people don’t require the calories that growing teenagers consume, and our elderly are never going to be able to cultivate crops and hunt like our younger population groups. I’ve decided the best method of enforcement would be a results orientated measurement with occasional consultation. The rule would be simple: If you approach the council with a need for food, you better have a good excuse for drawing from the community chest and putting everyone else at risk.”

Terri laughed at her friend’s phrasing. “Garden plots will be the norm. Seeds should be readily available to everyone. Folks will need fertilizer as well.”

Diana laughed, “You should attend our council meetings. Fertilizer isn’t in short supply there.”

Laughter broke the tension caused by the serious nature of the conversation, and the new
mayor became serious again. “Insecticides are going to be a problem. We’ll have to try to keep the pests under control by using natural substances. One of our best growers said there are some plants that are known to deter hungry insects and damaging diseases. I want practically every occupied home in Alpha to have a plot of veggies growing on the premises. With our hot climate, we should be able to support a year-round growing season.” 

Terri was thinking ahead. “You can organize contests and have competitions for the best produce. They can be like the pre-collapse 4-H fairs. I remember going to those as a kid; whole towns would gather to show off the juiciest tomatoes or prize winning green beans. People even exchanged recipes, canning tips and shared growing and cooking tips.”

Diana continued, “Domestic animals are also going to play a role. Goats, pigs, chickens, rabbits, and even a few dairy cows would contribute a bunch. I’m going to use some city funds and buy some goats at the Meraton market soon – I want it to be a common sight to see them grazing in city parks. Besides, their appetites can keep the grass down. We don’t have the gasoline to power lawn mowers. Producing eggs, milk and meat… it can all work.”

“I want to contribute too, Diana. Tell me what I can do to help.”

After Diana gave her a quick briefing on all of the activities, Terri volunteered to help the welcoming committee.

The guys had taken off early this morning, Nick wanting to give Bishop a tour of his security arrangements. Diana pointed Terri in the right direction and then rushed off to attend a meeting on healthcare.

Terri was assigned to a table that had been set up on the courthouse lawn, a large sign declaring her area as “Station #4.” As travelers arrived on the outskirts of town, they were directed to the courthouse after a brief screening to keep troublemakers and random rogue elements out of Alpha.

Once the refugees made their way to the courthouse, they answered a single page questionnaire. Based on their responses, the newcomers
were then directed to a station where detailed acclimation could begin.

Terri was informed that Station #4 handled families with minor children, her on-the-job training being provided by the three kindly ladies who served as Terri’s co-workers. She was also warned to expect the worst. As one soft-spoken volunteer put it, “Most of these folks have traveled a rough road after living on the edge the last six months. Be prepared to have your heart broken.”

It wasn’t long before Station #4 received its first customers. Terri noticed a family approaching across the shady lawn, the middle-aged man and woman apprehensive, and the children sluggish and shy. As they ventured closer, details of their individual condition shocked Terri to the point where her stomach began to churn.

The parents were dressed in rags. Previously a respectable outfit of blue jeans and polo shirt, the father’s combo was now threadbare and tattered, the cloth so filthy it was difficult to identify the fabric. The mother’s clothing was only a slight improvement, her tennis shorts and short sleeve blouse in complete disrepair. Stringy, filthy hair accented the sunken, hollow looking expression on the adults’ faces. The stench of body odor was strong even in the outdoor environment.

Terri would guess the three girls ranged in age from four to eight years old. Their condition and demeanor caused Terri’s eyes to water from emotion. Skinny, stick-like legs extended from under the soiled skirts. The children’s clothing had seen far better days as well, but was at least recognizable. It was the girls’ expressions hiding under layers of grime and filth that evoked such deep feelings inside of Terri. Most of all, it was their eyes that disturbed her; they were dead.

Of all the suffering children she and Bishop had encountered on their trip from Houston, nothing could have prepared Terri for the lifeless appearance of the children standing in front of Station #4. Despite working with her share of unwashed, hungry kids, she was horrified. She had interacted with young ones who were in danger, or sick, or without parents - none of those comparing to the state of these girls. It was as if they had withdrawn to the inner reaches of their minds and died, leaving their bodies to walk around like mindless, numb robots.

“Terri,” whispered one of her co-workers, “you’re staring.”

Shaking herself out of the trance, Terri nodded. “Sorry.”

“Welcome to Alpha, Texas… Mr. and Mrs. Hendricks. Please take a seat. I assume you’ve been offered food and water?”

The man hesitated before answering. “Yes, yes we have, and thank you.”

“Where are you originally from?”

Mr. Hendricks seemed to have trouble remembering, finally answering “Houston” after a long pause. The response focused Terri’s attention even more. These people might have been her neighbors less than a year ago.