Alone: Book 1: Facing Armageddon (21 page)

     He took the stalks over to his fence and tossed them over into his own back yard.

     By the time he finished, he had a pile of dead corn plants fifteen feet square and eight feet high.

     And he made a lot of new friends among his rabbit population. They seemed to love the stuff.

     “Don’t pig out too much,” he said to them as he watched them gorge themselves. “You want to make that stuff last as long as possible, and you’re going to have a lot of new mouths to share it with.”

     He put thirty ears
in the garage to dry completely on the cob. That would be his seed supply in the spring.

     The rest of the cobs sat in laundry baskets and cardboard boxes in his dining room. He’d process them as soon as his second crop
s were in the ground.

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     Dave very vaguely remembered walking into the office one day and asking what Sarah was researching. It was the day she’d ordered bulk seed from a supplier on Amazon.

     “I’m researching the different varieties of
corn and wheat,” she’d said while looking over her shoulder.

     “I didn’t know there was a difference. If you can find it, get the kind of corn that’s already in cans. I know they
grow it that way because it’s on the shelves at the grocery store.”

     “Okay, smartass. If I come across a variety that grows corn in cans, I’ll be sure to order that one.”

     “So, what do you mean, they have different varieties?”

     “Well, some corns are sweeter than others. Some have bigger kernels than others. Some grow better in hot and dry climates like we have, and some grow faster
than others. Wheat seed is the same way. There are lots of versions of it too.”

     “So, which kind are you looking for?”

     “I’m looking for ones that taste good and that grow well in our climate and grow fast.”

     “Why fast?”

     “Well, duh… so we can plant two crops every year if we need to.”

     Dave had left the room at that point and gone on to other things.

     But he had enough faith in Sarah. She was always meticulous when she did her research, and if there was one thing she was good at it was shopping.

     So even though he didn’t know much about the corn and wheat seeds she bought, he knew that he had time to grow a second crop of each of them before winter came in a few months and a freeze killed his plants.

     But he didn’t want to waste any time. He wanted to get the seeds in the ground quickly.

     He’d forgotten how hard it was to crawl around on his hands and knees for hours on end. He wished there was a machine that would do this work for him, but there wasn’t. He had to do it the way farmers had done it for centuries, before the industrial age came along.

     And, he was finding, it was a fairly efficient way of farming.

     He did make one modification in the way he planted the second corn crop. He adopted the same method he’d used when he planted his wheat crop, of planting two rows of corn on each side of his work row. He staggered the two corn rows, so that he could reach each plant to water it. But it would almost double his yield for the second crop.

     And he made a promise to himself that he would take a portion of the seed and spread it around the neighborhood to help others for the spring planting.

     The deaths of the Nance family had changed Dave to a degree. He’d always put his own life and the lives of his family above all others. It had to be that way. He’d do anything to ensure the survival of his wife and daughters. And part of that was making sure he was alive himself to provide for them and to protect them.

     But he’d also developed a sense of community. Too many lives had been lost already. He heard gunshots by the dozens, each and every night. And, like the Nances, sometimes during the day too. The smell of death was as strong as ever. And lately, he could smell smoke, off in the distance. It was a putrid smell as well. It wasn’t wood burning, like he’d have expected of a house fire. No, this was an ugly smell. Almost as bad as the smell of the decomposing bodies.

     And this smell, and the smoke that sometimes blew in on the winds with it, was cons
tant.

     It almost reminded Dave of the smell of a badly burned steak, left forgotten on the grill.

     After the burning had gone on for a couple of weeks on end, Dave finally figured out what it was.

     It was the city of
San Antonio, gathering and burning the bodies.

     He didn’t
know when the killing would stop. But he suspected there would be few who survived to the end.

     At some point
, he knew, the gunshots would have to stop, though. And eventually, the few survivors would start coming out to survey the damage. He hoped there would be no territorial wars or animosity among the survivors. He hoped they would band together for mutual protection and to help each other instead.

     He hoped.

     On the fourth day of planting the corn, Dave was within sight of finishing up when the clouds came back. He picked up the pace a little, wanting to complete his last row before the rain started to fall.

     Rainy days were still exciting to him. He’d had several of them now, and each one represented a lot of work. But he had his collection system down to a science now. He still lost water sometimes, when the rains were so heavy that all of his barrels and bottles were filled and there was nothing left to put it in. But he was confident that h
e’d have enough water to get him through the rest of the summer months now that the rains were fewer and farther between.

     And, he’d noticed when he snuck out of the house a few nights before, the neighbors were learning from him.

     He’d gone out to see whether the four bags of seed he left were gone. It had occurred to him that if any were untouched it would mean that all of the people on that street were probably dead. If that were the case, he’d have moved them to another location so they wouldn’t have gone to waste.

     But he was happy to see that all the seeds were gone. And, apparently the people who took the seeds were also taking his advice on how to collect and preserve rain water.

     He noticed that every single one of the large trash cans that had been out on the streets was now gone. There were piles of garbage everywhere, sure. But at least people were using his technique and his seeds to survive. And that in itself gave him a sense of accomplishment.

     His luck, and the rains, held.

     The first drops hit his face just after he’d planted the very last seed of corn.

     For just a few moments, he held his face to the sky and enjoyed the sensation.

     Then he was off to the races. First to the trash cans he’d turned into rain barrels at the back of the Hansen house. When he’d gathered up the trash cans from the streets, he’d left the lids behind. Many of them were missing anyway, and gathering them would have meant more exposure time, Instead, he’d put strips of plastic tarp over the cans and held them into place with bungee cords, to keep the water from evaporating between rainfalls.

     At the Hansen house, he pulled the tarp off and
cast it aside. The new rain came washing down the roof and into the barrels, replacing the water he’d been using for irrigation.

     Then he scampered over to the
Castro house and did the same thing.

     Those barrels were mostly full. He’d pumped water from three of them to replenish the ones in the Hansen yard. Hopefully the rain would refill those three barrels and would agitate the water in the other full
barrels enough to kill any mosquito larvae growing in them.

     Finally, Dave went back to his own yard and removed the lids from his own trash cans. As they started to fill, he ran inside the house to get several bags of two liter soda bottles that he’d emptied since the previous rain.

     He dipped each bottle below the water level to refill it, then replaced the cap and set it aside.

     He hoped there were many others around the neighborhood doing the same thing.

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     The best thing about the rain was that it gave Dave the ability to survive for a few more months.

     The second best thing was that it gave him the excuse to take a much needed break.

     The rain came down in torrents for three straight hours. Every one of the rain barrels, at all three houses, was now full and overflowing. Every container Dave had was full as well, including both of the bathtubs and all the sinks in his house.

     As the rain slowed, he stood, dripping wet, and surveyed the corn plot he’d just planted. The new seeds had gotten the gift of life from the heavy rain. They’d start to soften, and in a few days they’d start to sprout.

     And the life cycle would begin anew.

     As for the wheat crop that needed to be harvested, and was next on his list of things to do, that would have to wait for a couple of days.

     The work rows between the rows of wheat were just too muddy to be slogging around in. And although Dave didn’t know too much about farming, even he knew that the wheat couldn’t be harvested while it was damp. It had to be completely dry, to prevent the crop from being mildewed and ruined.

     So he had an excuse. He could rest at least a day, maybe two, without feeling guilty. He could sleep late, and let his aching bones and exhausted muscles recover.

     And, he decided, he’d even treat himself.

     While he was on his break and resting with not much to do, he’d double the amount of generator time. After all, gasoline was plentiful. He’d refilled his gas cans the last time he was out at night, and there were dozens more cars here and there with gas in their tanks.

     So for the next day or two he’d be able to watch two John Wayne movies per day instead of one. Or watch twice as many family videos. And he’d feel the cooling wind from the floor fan chilling his sweaty face as he sat on his bed and watched the movies.

     In a perfect world, he’d be enjoying his brief respite with Sarah and his girls.

     But then again, in a perfect world the EMP never would have struck and the blackout never would have happened.

     The world was far from perfect. In fact, the world at present was still a dangerous and ugly place.

     But at least for the next day or two, it would be tolerable.

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     Hi honey.

     I just got back. It’s less than an hour before sunrise, and I plan to sleep most of the day. So I thought I’d spend a few minutes with you first, or at least as long as my flashlight holds out, before I hit the rack.

     I went out to the streets again tonight. I know, I know, that was something we were never supposed to do.

     But something keeps making me go out there. I don’t know if it’s my own guilt, or some high
er power making me go out to atone for letting the Nances die. Whatever it is, I can’t help it. I’m sorry, but I can’t.