The Journal: Cracked Earth (14 page)

I know that you and Jacob will be fine
without me. If I’m not back soon, you know your mom will take you
and Jacob in. I wish I had a mother who loved me as much as your
mom loves you.

I’ll be home soon.

Mandy

I was stunned that she would actually leave.
It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen my son cry.

“When did she leave?”

“Last week.”

A week and he hadn’t told me.

“Do you want me to pull a few strings and see
if we can find her?”

“No, she’ll come home when she’s ready,” he
said heaving a big sigh.

I reached across the table and took his hand
in mine. “Whenever you need to, Jason, bring Jacob and stay with
me. Just don’t bring Downey,” I said, looking around for their
little Shih Tzu dog. “Where is he?”

“Mandy took him with her.”

“Do you want to come with me now?” I asked
while still holding his hand, wondering why she chose her
dog
over her husband and child.

“No, we’re okay for a while, now. Thanks for
the extra food. Jacob loves rice and his scrambled eggs.”

* * *

Before going home I really needed to stop at
Eagle Beach. I haven’t seen the guys or John at any of the township
haunts, not the meetings, not the soup kitchen, not the church
services. I knew Steve would take care of them the best he could,
and I wondered how long could he do that?

When I stepped into the kitchen, Steve looked
up from the bread he was kneading on the counter, and smiled sadly.
“Allexa! It’s been too long since you’ve been by.” He dropped his
voice into a whisper, eyes darting around. “The guys loved the
turkey dinner. Thank you again.”

“Where is everyone?” I asked. The white
trucks with the green leaf logo on the doors were very easy to
spot, and there was only one in the parking area, along with
Steve’s red pickup.

His hands stilled. “Most of them have left
for Marquette. There’s only five here now. John’s down by the
marina shore trying to catch some fish. I’m really worried about
them. There isn’t enough food and they’re too stubborn to leave.
After I bake this bread, it’s gone.” Just then the door opened,
letting in a gust of frigid Lake Superior wind—and John. My heart
thudded against my ribs at the sight of him.

“Hi,” I greeted him, smiling softly.

He looked up at the sound of my voice and
smiled, those blue eyes sparkling. John absentmindedly handed Steve
a stringer of three small fish and held out his arms while he
walked toward me for a hug. Oh, that meant the world to me, and I
soaked in the warmth of his embrace, despite knowing that for him
it was platonic.

* * *

“Thought I would check in and let you know
we’re hanging in there, and that we could use some supplies,” I
said when I called Liz.

“Everyone needs supplies,” she sighed. “Let
me know what you need most and if something comes up I’ll keep you
in mind.”

“We need everything,” I laughed, “but I’d say
gas would be the priority. With the Stone Soup Kitchen, the food is
going further.”

“The what?” she asked. I explained about the
kitchen, its meaning, and how everyone was working together. I
neglected to mention that I lifted hunting restrictions because I
was unsure if that was overstepping my limited authority. “That is
a great concept. Anything else?” Liz questioned.

“Yeah, I need a favor,” I said and told her
about how Amanda was missing. She asked for the make of the car and
the addresses of where she was supposed to have gone.

“We have strict curfews in place. If she was
caught, she might be in the detention center. I’ll see if I can
find anything out. We’d rather you feed her than us,” she laughed
sarcastically.

* * *

JOURNAL ENTRY: December 6

When I got home I tried to concentrate on the
mundane, normal things. I fed and watered the chickens, brought in
lots of wood and kindling, and cuddled Tufts for the longest time.
It didn’t help. I still feel sad and helpless.

With power off now for quite a while, it was time to
fall back on some of the things I learned while living deep in the
woods during the seven years I lived without grid power. We always
had refrigeration and ice for our drinks. Water frozen in dish pans
will keep the refrigerator cool, exactly like it did that antique
icebox I used in the woods, only better. A refrigerator is nothing
but a big cooler, and the insulation is more efficient. I filled my
ice cube trays and set them on top the hot tub. Like before, I’ll
keep breaking them into a zip lock baggie and use when needed. Like
riding a bike, there are some things we don’t forget how to do.

I moved what was left in the small 12 cubic
foot upright freezer into coolers and set them on the back deck and
shut the freezer off. It isn’t practical to continue running the
generator just to keep the freezer going. There is little now to
keep chilled: catsup, mustard, mayo, eggs, cheese and all the
butter from the freezer. I still have a half head of garden
cabbage, and I’m saving that for a special salad. The potatoes,
onions, beets, turnips and two pumpkins I harvested from the garden
are in the cold pantry. I even have a bag of apples! Maybe I’ll
have baked apples for dessert on Christmas, or an apple pie.

* * *

JOURNAL ENTRY: December 7

It occurred to me while thinking about using
the refrigerator like an icebox, that since the freezer is in the
cold, unheated pantry, I could use that as the refrigerator. It
sure will get cold enough in there even without ice. It also
reminds me to ask Jason about building a spring house for the
summer. We could do one down by the creek and have cold water
constantly flowing through it. Or one could be built around the
second well, once we get the hand pump hooked up and working. I
wonder if it would be feasible to do both. Definitely need to bring
that up to Jason, he’s got a great problem solving mind.

* * *

I was sitting in my rocker by the woodstove
reading a romance novel when I heard a vehicle pull into the
driveway. Tufts leaped from my lap, digging his back claws into my
thigh before hitting the floor, did his usual growl and then
hissed, slinked a few feet, hissed again and bolted for the
bedroom. It was not like him.

Bill Harris got out of the deep blue extended
cab four wheel drive truck. Considering Tuft’s reaction I went on
alert. I don’t like Bill either. I reached down and made sure the
steel bar was in place in the track of the sliding door. The door
would now only open three inches. I waited until he knocked, let
him wait a bit more, then I slid the door open enough to talk.

“What do you want, Bill?”

Without even the pretense of niceties, he
said, “Hey, Allex. Listen, I know you’ve got food. I remember one
of your solstice parties and you’ve got lots of supplies. We’re
getting really hungry, how about sharing?”

A couple of years ago I held parties on the
Solstice, partly to show my friends how comfortable we could be
without power,
if
we were prepared for it. At that time Bill
and his wife Marilyn were part of our card playing group.

“That was years ago, Bill. I don’t have any
of that stuff left,” I lied. “I have nothing to share with you.
Please, just go away and leave me alone.”

I started to close the door but he quickly
reached for the edge and tried to shove it open. It stopped on the
steel bar and he pulled his hand back. I closed the door and locked
it. He glared at me through the triple-paned window with hatred and
turned away. When he got to his truck, he opened the back door,
instead of the driver’s door. My alert kicked into high gear.

I grabbed the loaded twelve gauge shotgun
that was leaning against the wall and headed to the deck door. I
only had a minute or two. I knew Bill, a former law enforcement
officer, would never carry a loaded gun in his car, and now he
needed to load whatever it was he had brought with him. From the
deck, I quickly slipped behind the house and up the snow ladder
onto the roof. I was glad I at least had shoes on though I didn’t
have time to grab a jacket. My hands were already getting cold and
I stifled a shiver. I crouched down and hurried across the roof,
the snow muffling the sound of my movement. I peered down at Bill
as he aimed his shotgun at my glass door.

I braced the shotgun against my shoulder and
pulled the slide to chamber the round. Bill looked up at the
unmistakable sound. I pulled the trigger and the first round hit
him in the leg, barely wounding him. He staggered backward, giving
me a better target. I quickly chambered another round, took a
steadying breath, and fired again. It was a direct head-shot. He
never knew what hit him.

He’d told me several years ago that if things
ever got as bad as I thought they could, he would just shoot me and
take
my
stuff. Did he really think that I would forget that?
I had thanked him for the warning. Apparently
he
forgot
about
that
.

I ran over to Don’s and told him that I
needed help. He had heard the shots and had already gotten his
boots and coat on to investigate. On our way back I told him what
had happened. We loaded Harris in the back of the blue truck which
Don drove, following me in my car. What’s that old saying? Friends
help you move, but good friends help you move the body. Don is a
good friend. Oddly enough, it was Harris who told me that little
ditty.

Once I got to Ken and Karen’s house, our
newly deputized officers, I asked Don to wait in my car while I
talked to the couple. I explained what had happened, emphasizing
that Bill had threatened me, pulled a gun, and was trying to rob
me. I asked them what they wanted to do. My voice and my hands were
shaking.

“Looks like a clear case of self-defense, to
me. What do you think, Ken?” Karen said, turning to her
husband.

“I’ve never liked Bill,” Ken said. “He was a
loose cannon and it doesn’t surprise me that he got killed
committing an armed robbery. We’ll take it from here, Allexa, you
go on back home. You need a lift?” I told him Don was with me and
that I’d make it home okay.

I’ve had a hard time shooting raccoons.
Shooting a person? Well, I can’t begin to describe what’s going
through my mind right now. I had no appetite for dinner so I killed
a bottle of wine instead, all the while praying for heavy snow to
cover up the bloody mess that was now smeared across my yard.

* * *

JOURNAL ENTRY: December 9

I keep reminding myself that if I had given
Bill some food, he’d have come back for more, again and again. I’m
still feeling bad. Could I have done something different before?
During? After? Well, of course I could have. I’ve read Jim Cobb’s
book on security and know that the sliding glass door is my
vulnerable point. I could have boarded it up. I may do that now. I
could have given Harris some food… that would only have delayed the
inevitable, and would have put me at further risk from whomever
else he might have told. I will have to live with his death on my
hands. A death I can’t share with anyone beyond the three that
already know.

I have no source of comfort, other than
Tufts. His silky head, his loud purr… He loves to rest his head on
my arm like it’s a pillow. It’s nice but it’s not enough. I’m still
very much alone and feeling lonely.

* * *

I was too shaken up from yesterday’s events
to go into town, so I used the time for personal things. I started
up the generator and took a long, hot shower, washing my hair with
a bar of fragrant Shea butter soap. It cleaned my hair and my body,
but not my soul. Then I did a load of laundry to hang on the wooden
clothes rack to dry by the stove. While the washer was going, I
turned on the TV to see if the satellite networks were still
functioning.

It appears that in the early morning hours
another quake hit the New Madrid Fault. Another big one, an 8.1 on
the Richter scale, at the same location as the last. The portion of
the tectonic plate that was lifted and created the new lake in
Missouri was ripped in half, sending an avalanche of water down the
now dry Mississippi River. A wall of water nearly fifty-feet high
traveled at an incredible speed and washed away everything in its
path. This time there were very few deaths, considering, although
the exposed and vulnerable bridges were completely swept away. I’m
totally numb.

* * *

Anna was already at the township hall when I
arrived, and reminded me to check the bulletin board for the
weekend news. Last Friday night there was a break-in at Fram’s
store. There are no suspects and witnesses are encouraged to talk
to Ken or Karen. No money was taken and there isn’t any food left
to steal. Joe is keeping the store open only for gas and the
hardware department he has in the back. The café is open, only
serving coffee and tea for the internet users. Wisely, he took all
the coffee off of the store shelves and now keeps it locked in his
safe.

The notice about the break-in was right next
to a slightly larger notice about Harris being shot during an
attempted home invasion and armed robbery, with a side note
reminding that this was what could happen to those who step outside
the law. It was signed by Ken and Karen. Thankfully, it did not
mention whose home he was trying to rob, yet the timing is
suspicious to me. Did Harris come to me only after he couldn’t
steal any food at Fram’s? All those years ago, I tried, I really
tried, to get my friends to stock up, but most of them ignored me.
Some even scoffed at me, like Bill did, which is when he stopped
being a friend. That threat he made is why and when I stopped
talking to my friends about prepping.