Renewal 9 - Delay Tactics (3 page)

“Yeah, I understand that feeling, and I’ve only had to think about it for a couple of months. You’d think it would be easy for me. All I have to worry about is myself,” Terry said.

“That’s not true. I can tell that you worry about everyone and everything already,” Bill said.

“Well, let’s just say that it’s just as true as the idea that you would leave anyone else to handle things,” Terry replied.

“Ah, ya’ got me. I couldn’t do that. There’s a reason that the hard decisions are so damn hard. People get hurt. Not many people want to decide to hurt people. I sure don’t.”

“Way back at the beginning of your story, you were telling me that one of the reasons the old country failed is that no one was willing to make the hard decisions. You said that our leadership stood around pointing fingers at each other while the whole world spun out of control. That idea stuck with you all this time. Must be an important one,” Terry said.

“It is an important one, but it’s like the difference between simple and easy. I can recognize all the important things that my parents taught me with my mind, but my heart is the one that sits on top, trying to make sure that my brain doesn’t do something I can’t live with. It’s simple to put the facts in order, but it sure isn’t easy to make the call.” Bill dug around in his pocket for a pipe, and slowly packed it with tobacco.

“Like the Jenkins place?”

“Yeah, just like that. I’m sorry you had to be there, but I’m sure glad you were there, if that makes any sense at all.”

“It does. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the sick feeling I had after I watched all those men blown to bits,” Terry said. “But, I still understand the reasons, and I agree with them. It’s like you said, heart and head.”

“Heart and head. I guess I go on a rule that sounds like this... Sometimes you have to use your head so that later, it’s safe for your heart, and all those others hearts around you,” Bill replied with a rapid puff on his pipe.

“You know all those hearts are with you, right?”

“Yeah, I know and I’m grateful. Lots of good people around this place,” Bill said. “I hope I don’t kill too many of them.”

“Nobody expects you to be perfect, Bill.”

“Nobody except me...” Bill said with a faraway sound in his voice. “But speaking of hearts, I’d say you’re not all that far away from having a family of your own.”

“I think you have a tad too much interest in that subject, Grandpa. Instead, let’s hear a little more about little Miss Aggie.”

Bill laughed, busted at his own game. “All right, Mr. Shelton. Where were we?”

Chapter 9 – 4

Sprouts were growing in our homemade greenhouses. Sally was explaining everything in great detail to whoever would sit still long enough to listen. For the most part, that meant Lucy, followed by Mom and two of her traumatized women from Eugene Curfman’s prison shed. I never heard the details, but word got around that Eugene was not the worst of the men in his camp. In fact, he seemed to be using the poor women to keep his gun-toting followers happy.

In late August, it still was nothing like a typical Tennessee summer. The wind was cold when it blew. It rained more often than it had in years past, and except for three days of highs in the 70’s, the daytime temperatures were hovering in the 50’s and 60’s. The good news was that, unlike the previous year, we were approaching September without a freezing night in sight. Dad often wondered out loud about how bad the winter would be with mumbles about the rate of atmospheric clearing and other terms that meant nothing to me.

What I could see for myself was that a few adventurous plants finally decided to venture forth in early August. We saw buttercups and cable briar and even some poison oak popping out on tree trunks, but the trees themselves stayed locked up in sleep. We only had Sally Bean’s word on that. For all I knew, the trees were dead. A few crops sprang up in the open garden beds, but they were volunteers left over from the previous year. Sally had not bothered to do any real planting in a year with no summer. She watched them carefully for her own education, and occasionally talked to them when she thought no one was around. As a kid in a shattered world, I took it at face value even though I knew my folks thought talking to plants was weird. I spent idle moments wondering what Sally Bean was learning from those brave plants.

All I knew for sure was that we, the males in our group, were allowed back into the house at night. With the nervous chattering and ranting of one of the rescued women named Jackie, I was tempted to head right back out to the hayloft every evening after dinner. Kirk was even less tolerant. His habit was to rise from the dinner table and declare himself on watch. He would lace his boots and carry his rifle out the front door before anyone could think of an argument. In any case, if he was on watch, that meant no one else had to stay out in the chilly night air.

The other two grown women, Margaret and Jones, seemed to have adjusted just fine. They had developed an uncomfortable gratitude to all of us, but poured most of their daily thanks on my mother, who was beginning to tire of the role of heroine. Aggie became my best friend after that first introduction on the swing. We spent as much time together as our farm chores would allow and made a point to ride the rusty swing every afternoon in the rare down time between endless tasks and dinner time. It was nice, and for some reason, we never ran out of new things to say. Of course, she did most of the talking. I was just smart enough to know that the less I said, the smarter I would look.

We didn’t see much of each other during August. Dad, Arturo, Kirk and I were still on hay collection. We finished gathering the hay up at the Carroll’s farm and moved our work down to Joe Miller’s place. Joes farm, more of a ranch really, was within easy walking distance of our new home at Sally Bean’s farm. We had met him when he was in the throes of a tough case of pneumonia. He had come to Sally’s house to warn her of the men who were threatening local survivors in the effort to find us. Sally had given him some concoction of tea to help with his sickness, but I remember Sally telling Mom that he had no better than a 50-50 shot at recovering.

By the time we were gathering hay at his place, Joe had already beaten the odds. He was still coughing and resting every five minutes, but he was up and around and helping us with the job, teaching us a lifetime of tricks as we began the long process of rounding up his animals and hay. On a lunch break, we had the opportunity to listen to him talk about himself.

“So, Joe... You’re giving us all your livestock, and all your hay. What are you going to do with your time now?” Dad asked in the middle of the conversation.

“Well now, David. I know it seems a little crazy to give away the farm, but you gotta understand. I’m 72 years old. I’ve been working this land since my daddy left it to me in 1960. I know the world has gone all nuts, but I don’t care. I’m tired of farming. I’m ready to retire.”

“I’m not arguing, Joe, but money is gone. Land is the only currency we have for the foreseeable future, unless I’m wrong and the government is still up and running.”

“Never did count on the government for anything. About the time I got smart enough to tie my shoes so they wouldn’t come undone, we were in the middle of Viet Nam, and that’s when I figured the government was about as useful as spilled whiskey.”

“Still no argument, but I’m serious. If you’re not working your land, how will you survive? You need something to trade, again assuming people start trading again,” Dad said.

“Oh, I’ve been giving it some thought, and I have something to trade,” Joe replied, tapping his skull with a long bony finger. “I know pretty much everything there is to know about farming, one way or another. I’ve tried it all. There have to be lots of people who need to know that stuff these days. Ain’t no more running to Kroger for the groceries...”

Dad’s eyes grew wide as he understood what Joe was saying. “I never thought of that, Joe. You’re right. I spent my whole life before the Breakdown selling my knowledge, but I never once thought about selling knowledge after the fact. We’re your customers. We know we need this hay, but we don’t know the first thing about what to do with it, or how to get more when it runs out.”

“Exactly. You’re in good hands, by the way. If anybody knows more about charming food out of the ground than Sally, I never met ‘em,” Joe said. “My daddy died suddenly, accident here on the farm, and stupid kid that I was, I never paid enough attention to what he was telling me. I was planning to be a reporter when he died. Sally and her husband got me right up to speed. I’m still learning from her, come to think of it.”

“You know she’s kinda sweet on you...” Dad said with a smile.

“Aw hell, I know it,” Joe replied. “She’s been flirtin’ for years, but I figure it ain’t me she’s flirtin’ with. She’s after a connection with Fred and maybe just a chance at not being alone. I’m an old man in the neighborhood is all.”

“Maybe... Maybe not,” Dad said.

“Well, if you don’t buy that argument, then I’ll give you my side of it. Fred was my best friend. There are men who would say that makes it my duty to look out for his widow, but I say that makes it my duty to stay out of her bed. It’d feel like cheating. Plus, there’s my wife, rest her soul, and I can’t imagine anyone who could eve replace her.”

“I understand, Joe.” Dad looked at the man with respect. “That still doesn’t answer the question of what you’re going to do.”

“I wanted to be a reporter so I could travel, see the world. When the farm fell to me, I gave up on the reporter part, but I never stopped wanting to travel. Later, I dreamed of trading this whole place for one of those big old recreational vehicles. I planned to travel with my wife, all over the country, stopping wherever the mood struck us. When the cancer got her, I sorta blamed myself. It was like that RV dream was part of what killed her, so I dropped that one too. Towards the end of the winter, when I thought I was gonna cough myself to death, I realized that was stupid, that she’d want me to travel, to see what she never got to see. Well, the picture is different now, but I’m gonna do it just the same.”

“You’re telling me your plan is to travel around the country – on purpose?” Dad’s face changed from respect to incredulity.

“Yep. That’s what I’m telling you,” Joe answered with a tight grin. “Listen. I’m old. Who’s gonna worry about a single old man walking around? I may be the safest traveler left. And, if they do mind me, and they decide to shoot me for sport, I’m still an old man. No big loss to the world, and I end up with my wife, up there.” Joe lifted his finger to point at the sky.

“Well, I guess that makes sense, but the more I listen to you, the more I think it is a loss, Joe.”

Joe Miller just shrugged and said nothing.

Chapter 9 – 5

Terry took great pleasure in rousting Seth out of bed. First, he had to get past Seth’s mother, who left little doubt about where Seth had gotten his massive muscular frame. Terry told her why he was knocking on the door at 6 AM and she gave him a dubious look. Apparently her long experience at waking her son left her with a faint hope for Terry’s continued good health. Terry had to admit it was like waking a bear from hibernation in the spring. At Terry’s first poke to his shoulder, Seth made a sound that was somewhere between a snore and a grunt. By the time Terry resorted to full-on shoulder shaking, Seth sounded like both sides of a dog fight. Finally he opened his eyes and saw that it was Terry. Seth blinked twice more and grinned at his friend.

“Come on, Big Seth. We have work to do.” Terry gave him a friendly smack on the shoulder and stepped back to give Seth plenty of room.

Seth got to his feet and stretched a few muscles, releasing a series of loud pops and cracks from his joints. “What’re we doing?”

“Man, you sound like you’re held together with popcorn,” Terry said.

“Makes me flexible...”

“We’re taking last night’s prisoner back to town,” Terry said.

“Prisoner? You mean them guys from the Jenkins place?”

Terry rolled his eyes and said, “Seth, only you could sleep through a firefight in your own backyard.”

“They were here?” Seth was suddenly wide awake.

“Yep.”

“What happened?”

“Come on. Get dressed. You can ask the guy yourself.”

Seth followed Terry to the clinic, asking questions all the way. Terry tortured his friend by failing to answer any of them, but he finally stopped in front of the clinic to explain.

“We’re supposed to be nice to this guy. Bill thinks he may help our cause if we treat him right.”

“Be nice? I’m always nice,” Seth said with an angelic expression.

“Is that what your new girlfriend says?”

Seth blushed and Terry knew he had hit the target. Seth said, “Man like me... I don’t have girlfriends.”

“First time for everything, Big Guy. Don’t think I missed the brown-haired bundle on your mama’s couch. Maybe there’s a reason you slept through the gunfire.”

Seth’s response was an embarrassed growl followed by a mumbled, “Nosy son of a..”

Terry laughed and said, “Good for you, Seth.”

“Let’s just take this guy home,” Seth grunted. Terry thought it was hilarious watching the biggest man in the whole community pouting.

They went inside and found Jared Cooper still cuffed to the bed, snoring loudly. Sue Jacobs was going through supply drawers for the tenth time that morning. She looked angry, or at least concerned.

“Hi Sue,” Terry greeted her. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Hi Terry. I grabbed a nap in my office. Hello, Seth. I hear you found yourself a girlfriend.”

“I am going to kick my mama’s ass,” Seth said. “Her mouth never stops running.”

Sue laughed in a high musical tone. “Good luck with that. You were just little boy when somebody tried to steal the knives from her kitchen. She darn near beat that guy to death with a broom.”

“Yep. That’s my mama,” Seth replied with a grin.

The laughter woke Jared. “What’s happening?” he asked groggily.

Terry turned to face the man. “Morning, Mr. Cooper. I’m Terry, the guy who didn’t shoot you, and this is Seth. He slept through the whole thing, so you can’t blame him either.”