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“We have enough supplies to keep the fifteen of us – correction,
nineteen
of us – comfortable for approximately two years. Assuming nothing happens to the livestock.”

“How long have you been collecting all this stuff?” Cody asked her.

“More than ten years now.”

“But why?”

Iggy led us back out into the hallway near the kitchen. “Because we always knew something like this was gonna happen. The signs have been around for a while. It was just a matter of time.”

My parents had told me about their stock supply, but I’d had no idea the extent of my aunt’s preparation. Cody looked as though he thought Iggy and her family should visit a psychiatrist.

While Iggy cooked the meat, I diced onions and shredded cheese, and Cody helped Kim and Chris unload their truck. They made several trips to the basement and back, carrying all types of guns and boxes of ammo. When Jamie breezed in fussing about Iggy’s attempt at seasoning the beef, she introduced us. With dark eyes and black hair, Jamie was a couple of inches shorter than Iggy, but he obviously ruled the kitchen. After shaking my hand, he bumped Iggy out of his way with a hip and smelled the contents of the pan. “Iggy! Too much chili powder.”

She laughed and kissed his cheek. Then she grabbed my hand and said, “Let’s get out of his way.”

Jamie shooed us away. “Good idea. Go.”

I wasn’t used to someone always grabbing my hands and arms, but I noticed that Iggy did this frequently and indiscriminately. Instead of telling people to ‘come on’ or ‘follow me’, she tugged. She also never hesitated to hug people or touch them during a conversation. I figured it must be a southern thing. Besides, I liked my hand being in hers, so I didn’t complain as she led me toward the barn.

The sun was behind the forests that surrounded us, casting shadows across the property and making it seem later than it actually was. I heard a drone approaching. It was easy to pinpoint because the countryside was so quiet. I heard horses neighing. A motorcycle in the distance. Someone pounding on metal inside the barn. The sound of our shoes crunching across the gravel path. These were all strange noises, and I experienced a sudden nostalgia for Manhattan. The quiet here was almost eerie.

Iggy finally let go of my hand, and I pulled my cell out to see if I’d missed a call or a text. I had, but the texts were from a couple of my friends and not from either of my parents. I was really worried. Yeah, mom had been a kick ass Marine, but that was fifteen years ago. She had an office job now. Dad was fit, but he was not the gung-ho hero type. Maybe they'd had to take care of some things where they worked and were delayed. After all, it couldn't be easy to leave their government jobs during a crisis. And their jobs were important. Secretive. I had to give them more time.

My thoughts were sidetracked when we entered the barn and Wesley looked up from where he sat working on the motor of a Kawasaki. His eyes met mine for a brief moment and his shoulders tensed. Then he rose and greeted Iggy only. “Flint said the engine stalled on him a couple of times today. But it should be good now.”

“Thanks, Wes. I appreciate that.”

I followed her to a plastic garbage bin where she reached in and grabbed a milk jug-sized scoop of sweet-smelling oats and corn. I remembered this routine from my childhood visits, and I grabbed several large square pads of hay before following her to the first stall. We fed and watered the horses in silence while Wesley cleaned up and put away his tools.

“I see you haven’t forgotten everything I taught you when we were kids,” Iggy said when we were done. She lifted her hand for a high five, and I smacked my palm against hers.

“I would probably still ride if I hadn’t been thrown. Now, all I remember is hooves and pain.”

“Yeah, well, you should have gotten right back on Blaze like I told you to. The quickest way to get over fear is to get right back on the horse.” She added with a smile, “Not go running off to your mommy.”

"I didn't run off to my mommy," I defended.

"Yeah, you did."

Wesley snickered and slammed down the lid of his toolbox. Then he walked out of the barn.

I shook my head. “Who is that guy and why does he live here?”

“Wesley is a good friend of the family. We’ve known each other since we were eleven years old.”

“Do his parents live here too?”

“No. They died when he was thirteen. Car wreck.”

I winced. “Oh. That’s horrible.”

“He’s lived with us ever since.”

“His parents and your parents were friends?”

"Uh, no."

“Then why did your parents take him in? He doesn’t have any other family?”

“No. We’re it."

"So your parents adopted him?"

"He’s my best friend, and I wanted him here. I needed him to stay.”

My forehead wrinkled. “Needed?”

“Long story.”

“He doesn’t seem like the friendly type. I'm surprised you're so close.”

“He's had a rough life. We've been through a lot together, and I trust him completely.”

That was a serious statement, and it got me thinking about my own friends. Cody was probably the only person I trusted to have my back in a bad situation. I said, “Well, then I’m glad he’s your friend.” I shuffled my feet, swallowed and asked, “Is he more than that?”

I thought she might laugh at my question. But instead, Iggy shook her head and said, “No. We’re close, but not like that. What about you, Cael? You have a girlfriend back in the big city? Or wherever?” She looked down and toed her boot into the sawdust.

“No. Not for about six months now.”

“Does she go to NYU too?”

“She did. She transferred to a university back in Ohio where she was from.” I expected Iggy to ask me more questions, but she didn’t. “Do you plan on going to college? You graduated last May, right?”

“Yeah.” She wrinkled her nose. “But I don’t think college is for me.” She tilted her head and asked, “What will happen now that you left NYU? You just stopped going to classes, right?”

“They ended up closing the campus. Too much violence. Classes are suspended indefinitely. And now Martial Law has been declared.”

Iggy shook her head, her long, wavy ponytail swinging from side to side behind her shoulders. “It seems like everything is falling apart. I mean, here in our little corner of nowhere, I’m kind of sheltered. I don’t really understand what it was like for you to make your way down here. It's probably scarier in real life than what I see on the news.”

“It was the most frightening experience I’ve ever had. That’s why I’m worried about my parents.”

“Like my dad said, he can pull some favors to find them. If need be, we’ll go get them ourselves.”

My eyebrows drew together as I stared down at her. “I wouldn’t ask you to go out there to help me find my parents. It’s a crazy world right now. Too dangerous.”

Her head tipped to the side. “It’s not like zombies have taken over. Come on. This is America. Besides, you wouldn’t have to ask. Aunt Ava and Uncle Daniel are my family. You couldn’t make me stay.” Iggy licked her lips and tossed me a smile that seemed edged with nervousness. “But it won’t come to that anyway. They’ll be here any second now.” She grabbed my arm and pulled. “Come on. It’s probably dinner time.”

Iggy’s dad came trotting out of the house in uniform as we approached. Iggy asked where he was going.

“Got three gas stations on fire in town and a grocery store being robbed.”

“But you’re off for the night.”

He gave his daughter a worried look and touched her cheek. “We don’t have enough officers on duty to cover all the crimes that have been reported.” He planted a kiss on her forehead. “Be safe. Watch that gate and keep the patrols going.” Then he was gone.

“You really think people will trespass? Try to steal stuff?” I asked her.

“With all the food, guns, and gas we have? Hell yeah. Maybe not soon, but eventually they will come. We have a reputation in this town. People know we’re prepared. There are a lot of families out there like us; they’re prepared to live off what they’ve stored, live off the land, survive for a long time without any outside help. I think people might get desperate enough to try and take what we’ve got. And what our friends have.”

A car drove through the gate and pulled up next to four other ones on the lot adjacent to the house in front of the woods. Three people got out, arguing and shouting. Iggy jogged toward them. “Martha! What happened?”

A lady with a mix of red and gray hair met Iggy halfway and they hugged. Martha said, “They shut down the Cracker Barrel. I’m officially unemployed.”

The older man I assumed was her husband said, “We knew this was gonna happen, Martha. Stop freaking out.”

“Shut up, Frank! Don’t tell me what to do.”

The kid behind them, who was perhaps about thirteen, threw his hands up in the air and stormed into the house. Iggy patted the woman’s back and soothed, “We got this, Martha. It’s gonna be fine. And we really need your help around here now. If you don’t mind, Dad and Kim think we need to patrol all the fences regularly, and we would really appreciate your help with that.”

Martha brightened. “Of course I’ll help.”

Iggy put an arm around the woman’s waist and guided her toward the house. “Jamie made his famous chili. Let’s have dinner and just relax for a while. I’m sure it’s been a rough day.”

Frank said, “We brought some supplies to add to the basement store.”

Iggy clapped a hand over his shoulder. “Appreciate it, Frank. You need some help unloading?”

He nodded.

I volunteered, “I’ll help him.” I extended an arm and introduced myself. Frank shook my hand, thanked me, and we got to work.

Cael

Dinner was an informal jumble of people helping themselves to a food buffet and carrying on multiple conversations. People came and went in the same manner as those staying at a hotel, sharing the same lobby for a continental breakfast. I watched Wesley and Iggy chat quietly together at the opposite end of the table from me and Cody. Wesley didn’t say much to anyone else, including Aunt Kim, even though she sat next to him. That’s why I was surprised when he smiled, and I wondered what Iggy said that cracked his shell.

Cody leaned into me and said, “You’re staring.”

I blinked at him. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re staring at Iggy.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I’m not judging, bro. Just pointing it out.”

I turned to my bowl of chili and dug in, grabbing a handful of saltines. Cody reached for a pot in the center of the table and whispered to me, “What’s this stuff?”

“I don’t know.”

“Looks like a bunch of slimy weeds.”

Jamie, who was sitting on Cody’s other side, smacked his hand playfully. “Put down the bowl then, boy. Those aren’t weeds. Those are collards. And I make the best collards this side of the Mississippi. Don’t eat them if you’re not gonna appreciate them.”

“What the hell are collards?”

“Boy!” He waggled a finger at Cody. “Where are you from? How can you not know what collards are?”

“What are the chunks in it?”

“Ham,” Jamie snipped.

Several of us laughed. Kim said, “Take it easy, Jamie. He’s a Yankee.”

“A New Yorker,” I clarified.

Jamie huffed, “That explains it.” Then he slopped a spoonful of collard greens onto Cody’s plate. “Try them.”

Cody poked at the blob with his fork until he hooked a leaf. Under Jamie’s watchful eye, he stuffed the green thing into his mouth and chewed carefully. His facial expression changed from wary to impressed.

“Well?” Jamie prodded.

“They’re actually good,” Cody admitted.

“Of course they’re good!”

A few minutes later, several phones beeped loudly. Iggy, Kim, Wesley, and two other people whose names I didn’t know dug out their cell phones and looked.

“Granger,” Wesley announced, bringing scowls to everyone's faces. They all rose at the same time.

“Where’s everyone going?” Cody asked.

“Front gate,” Jamie told him and scraped his chair back. “So much for a peaceful dinner.”

I jumped up and followed them as they paused at the foyer gun closet before jogging out the door. I reached for a gun too. Cody stood in the door way. “What are we supposed to do? Help?”

“I’m going out there.”

Cody shrugged and retrieved a weapon, and the two of us followed everyone up to the gate. The bars slid open to reveal a black pickup truck with several armed people standing in the bed. Floodlights mounted over the truck’s roof were aimed down so that we were in their spotlight just as they were in ours. A man with shaggy brown hair and a beard stood beside the driver’s door holding a Browning shotgun. He looked vaguely familiar. A younger guy who looked similar except without the beard, came up alongside him, also holding a shotgun. This place was like a weapons convention.