Authors: Kevin L Murdock
“Thank you for coming down. You still look half asleep, Josh.” Her voice was chippy. As she stepped forward to shake my hand, I realized that the air had warmed dramatically. Whatever polar vortex had come down upon us the previous few days, it was just as rapidly leaving. Not quite warm out yet, the night air which is normally chillier than the day was distinctly warmer than the sunny day we’d just had. Our hands met and shook. For some reason, I thought of her as a cockroach as I looked down, but that was probably the vindictive part of my brain still waking up.
“What’s going on? Why the urgent late-night house call?” Other than the obligatory handshake, I had no desire in rapport building or pleasantries. It’s time to get the beef out of her.
Her eyes narrowed slightly and she stared me down the same way a shark probably looks up at a swimmer when trying to decide if it’s hungry or not. “I saw you walk off earlier from the meeting. That’s okay, Josh.” Her voice was controllably soft, much like how an old lady would speak to comfort a strange child she didn’t know. “A few other people left too. They didn’t know we weren’t finished today. We actually reconvened and discussed several things.”
I didn’t know if I was alone or not, but I had that creepy feeling of being watched that is all too familiar with people who are addicted to horror movies. Again I was direct. “What did I miss?”
She gave a small smile and took a couple of steps off my walkway into the grass. She usually paced when talking a lot, I noticed. “We are going to be starting a Blennington farm as soon as the cold weather breaks. I’ve noticed your gardens in the summer, pretty impressive, I must say.”
Flattery may work on old coons in the office, but I was too tired and wasn’t seeking any affection. I stared coldly right through her. I had told Stacy to stay with the kids, but I thought I caught a glimpse of her in the window, looking at us. Maybe that was a good thing.
A second set of eyes and a second gun was never a bad thing in a world without laws
, I mused. “Did you wake me up to ask if I would plow a field or plant something?” It was rhetorical and probably asked a bit harsher than I should have. She was at least playing nice.
“Yes! I do need that. I need people here that have gardening skills because we will have to start growing food right away.”
I didn’t dare tell her that my gardens died half the time because I was too busy with work to water them, but I did at least get a few decent things each year. “And that needed to be discussed tonight, why?”
“Oh there is more. We have to have seeds to plant. Right now, we have nothing.”
She didn’t need to say it, but I knew where this was going, literally. We didn’t have any farms close, and there was only one place that might carry seeds within a reasonable walking range. “We can’t go there.” I had said it weakly in protest but knew I had no choice. Enemies can work together when their interests intersect, and right now, we all had need of feed. It was like the Soviets and Americans agreeing to dismantle some nuclear bombs. Even in mutual hatred, everyone could agree that blowing up the world ten times over was a bad idea.
She looked up at the sky, a few stars poking in between some clouds and then breathed out deeply. “See, the cold air is disappearing. The situation is much worse than people realize, Josh. There are gangs roaming around Plantation Road and beginning to kill people. I thought we could tax a few refugees for food but they aren’t even making it here anymore. A mile down the road at the apartments, they are ambushing and killing all who pass. They strip them down and take all their food and supplies. Even some that are armed have tried to fight back, and it’s a slaughter. Every day they are making their way a bit further out and burning homes and looting. At some point, they are going to come here . . . that is if we have food and are still alive.” She had been looking at me, then down, then back again at me. It was an emotional plea for help, the kind a woman knows is rarely refused by an honorable man.
“So we have gangs killing everyone, and you’re asking me to go through that in order to find seeds?”
“Not alone.” She reached out to touch my shoulder, but I stepped back. My face was pale but stoic. I may have to go along with this but I didn’t have to like it. “A few others are going with you. That’s why I had to come and tell you tonight. You leave at 4:00 a.m., before dawn.”
“I what?” The sleepiness was gone, but I wished I’d had an excuse. In my youth, I could weasel my way out of anything, but I reached into that bag now and pulled up nothing, again and again. My mind was racing, looking for a way out but like a race track that goes in circles, I repeatedly came back to the same spot. “Why tomorrow?”
“We need to act fast. Looting is widespread, and we have to secure any resources we can while we can. Miller, Mohammad, and Nana will be by in the morning to get you. Be ready to go and be armed. Remember, Josh,” she relaxed her neck muscles and allowed her head to turn slightly sideways, “it’s all for the community. We all have to do our part. I know you won’t let me down.” With that, she turned and started walking away, not even stepping on the sidewalk but taking a direct path away across the grass.
The moon made a brief appearance through a cloud and then disappeared again. Whatever front was passing, it was warming it back up rapidly. Maybe the last vestiges of winter were past, and it was time to think about growing plants and crops, but getting the seeds wouldn’t be easy. We’d be going back to the LeapMart, and that meant passing gang country. At least at 4:00 to 5:00 a.m. they should all be drunk and passed out, or we would have minimal risk, although hearing them slaughtering several migrant people a day didn’t sit well with me. What was this world coming to? I was confused, and sleep’s hold over me had never fully let go. Stacy wouldn’t believe this, but I had to tell her quickly and then get my rest. I would need it in the day ahead.
Chapter 12
LeapMart Revisited
Before the storm came, I often lay in bed thinking about work the coming day. What tasks would I have? Which customers or clients did I have appointments for, and was I prepared? Was a boss coming, and if so, was my team ready to put on a good show? The mind is a computer that runs 24/7 and never stops processing information. Whatever is important to us and holds our attention before we sleep will stay overnight in the brain at some level and dominate our thoughts when we wake. Always, prior to the storm when I had a busy morning scheduled at work, I would wake up two minutes before my alarm clock was set to start blasting music. It didn’t matter what time was set, my brain never fully trusted the alarm clock on important days, and I was awake right before I needed to be.
This day was starting off similar enough to how one of those days went. I knew they were coming at around 4:00 a.m., but I didn’t have the luxury of a clock or phone alarm. Even though my eyes hadn’t seen a running clock in several days and time was ever becoming a vague, abstract concept, I knew they would be coming for me early. Those thoughts preoccupied me as I tossed and turned in bed before going back to sleep. Samantha’s visit had wrenched me free of the deepest sleep I’d experienced in years, and it was impossible to find my way back. At best, I slept for small periods and would half-awake to think about the LeapMart before dozing again.
Finally my eyes opened, and I stared at a dark ceiling. Stacy was warm next to me while Murphy snored on the floor. With considerable effort, I closed my eyes but was denied additional sleep. Not knowing the time, I picked myself up and got dressed. The air was warming outside, but I was applying layers. They could be here in a few minutes or a few hours, I wasn’t sure. For the first time in life, my internal body clock had pressed the snooze button. Murphy followed me downstairs as I took each step slowly so as to minimize creaks in the floor.
After taking the dog out into the backyard and relieving myself as well, I packed a couple of water bottles and a few fruit bars that we normally would give to the kids. This is a day in which I would need compact energy, and our choices were becoming more limited by the meal. I was dressed, armed, equipped, and ready to roll. With no idea how long it would be before we set out, I sat down at our kitchen table, lit a candle, and began reading halfway into a book about the Roman general Belisarius a book I had read probably ten years before. His tactics were always legendary, and even in the modern world, his name evokes the image of a hero on parade, wearing a wreath, marching his victorious army to be received warmly by an emperor.
As I read on about Belisarios recapturing Rome from the barbarians, I couldn’t help laughing at the ironies of life and civilization. Rome was the beacon of lost glory, even in the sixth century. His armies fought to reclaim it and slaughtered thousands of people to rebuild an empire that was already lost to the western world for all eternity. Despite being gone in formality, the residues of Roman civilization have persisted into the modern age. All of western civilization bear its legacy, despite its lack of existence for nearly one thousand five hundred years. Did those soldiers fighting and dying against their enemies know that they were fighting for an empire that would fade into the night and never return? Would they have fought as hard if they knew a few generations later that all their spilled blood would be for nothing and all their institutions of empire would be wiped from the Earth? Would this area be the next Rome? Had our glory already been extinguished for all eternity by that storm, but were we soldiers fighting on, unaware that it was futile? The American dream had always been that every generation improves their quality of life over the previous one. Was all that gone or would the soldiers of Rome return to save the day? I wasn’t sure of much anymore.
I stared intently at the burning candle with my mind swimming in philosophical thoughts and the open book sitting on the table in front of me. Seconds or minutes passed, and then the knock came. It was a gentle knock, the kind a teenage kid might use on the back door of a house late at night so as to not wake his friend’s parents. A subtle knock was at least appreciated by me. I stood up, checked if I had everything, and grabbed my gun. It was time to roll.
I poked my head out the side of the blinds in the kitchen and saw several men standing in front of my house. Immediately I recognized Mohammad and Nana, while the others were in the dark and unrecognizable. I trusted those guys and didn’t think they would lead me into any kind of a trap, so I stepped in front of the door. I’m not a deeply religious person, but I did the Christian cross sign against my chest before crossing out into the unknown. Our front door is old, and the hinges make an exaggerated noise whenever it opens. All eyes were on me as I stepped into the night. Immediately I realized that my large winter jacket wouldn’t be necessary. The air had warmed more since earlier.
“Good morning,” said Miller to me from a dark spot. His face was hidden, but I knew the voice already.
“G’mornin’,” I answered in my old Kentucky voice that seldom saw the light of day anymore. Each other person gave a quick nod to me. “What’s the plan, guys?” Already my adrenaline was starting to pump. There was a group of us, all armed, going into hostile country.
This must be how it felt when going out looking for Charlie in Vietnam,
I reflected, only I didn’t want to find him today.
Miller stepped forward, only a few feet from me, and in the dim light of night, it was barely enough to see his face. His voice was raspy, as though he didn’t want to be here either but also felt compelled. He took a deep swallow and then started, “We picked up a couple other partners for this. We are going to have three two-man teams. Myself and Nana, Josh, you will be with Mohammad, and Tom insisted on coming along and brought his friend Randy Falt.” I thought Tom must be drunk out of his mind to volunteer for this, and I didn’t know Randy very well. He was a fat, balding guy in his mid-twenties who probably spent most of his time in his house playing computer games and still had acne. Still, having more people wasn’t a bad thing. Strength in numbers, I remembered, just like the Roman legionnaires.
Randy stepped forward and shook my hand. I guess he didn’t remember we had met before at a couple of neighborhood events, we just never had taken much time to get know anything about each other. There was an odor coming from him as well. None of us had the luxury of sitting in a hot bathtub and cleaning since the storm, but I got the impression he was even worse off. He probably hadn’t made any attempt to use deodorant or wet wipes to at least give a small cleaning. I was instantly glad I would be with my friend Mohammad, although he didn’t look well. Perhaps he hadn’t slept, but his face looked tight, like he was grinding his teeth.
Miller continued, “We have to go to LeapMart and get there as quickly and quietly as possible. We think that all the food is probably taken and gone, but some things like seeds in the garden supplies may still be there. Most people looking for things to steal or necessities to take home probably would have overlooked them. If possible, we are also to get fertilizer and other essentials. Lastly, there are a few restaurants in the shopping center, and we should double check those to see if there is any food we can bring back.”
Everyone was nodding, but I wasn’t convinced. We needed seeds, but if people were dying, as Samantha had said, was this worth the risk? “So we get in early and get out? That’s the plan?” I wanted it said in simple English. Sometimes simple plans turn out not to be. I didn’t want any confusion here.