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Post by ss1442 on Feb 10, 2015 15:31:01 GMT -6
Wow all caught up now I have to wait like everyone else. Great story.
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Post by nancy1340 on Feb 10, 2015 15:42:09 GMT -6
Very good. Thank you.
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Post by bretf on Feb 11, 2015 6:25:43 GMT -6
Thanks so much 2MW, Fred, Papa. The methane is quite an intriguing idea, especially if you have livestock. I wish I’d have known about that in my teen years and Dad had quite a few cows. I think we would have dad a blast (hopefully not literally) experimenting with it.
SS1442 and Nancy, Thank you both very much.
Chapter 21
“So I always thought gardening was a summer thing. But you mean to tell me we can grow stuff all winter?” Jenny asked as she helped plant seeds in the newly worked beds in the greenhouse.
“No, it won’t grow all winter, I said we can harvest all winter. The key is to get the seeds in now so the plants are close to maturity when the big freeze hits. But we can’t have everything like we do in the summer garden. The fall and winter garden will be made up of cold hardy plants.”
Jenny glanced at the small seeds in her hand. “We’re doing lots of different salad greens now. Are we going to do anything else?”
“We have to get the garlic in the outside garden soon. It needs to get some good growth and then it will winter there but we won’t be using it until next summer. But for winter harvest, besides the salad greens, we’ll put in root crops; the carrots, beets, green onions. With a little luck, the peas we put in last week will be ready in time. If not, I’ve over-wintered some plants when the winter wasn’t too harsh. Every little bit will help in the winter,” Paul told her.
“Will we have to heat the greenhouse for this to work?” she asked.
“No, not with these plants we won’t. But we’ll add extra row covers over the plants when it gets cold for one more layer of insulation. Just like when we dress in layers. Something else I’ve been contemplating is the compost pile; setting it up in here. You know, when the decomposition is happening, it creates a lot of heat, maybe enough to make a difference in here. I don’t know if it will or not, but we’ll never know until we try it.” He paused while he covered some seeds with screened soil. “Maybe you can pull out your smart phone and google it up to see if anyone has done it,” he said with a grin.
“Good idea,” she retorted. “While I’m online, why don’t I order a pizza too? What do you want on it? Everything but the kitchen sink, and extra anchovies?”
*****
The new plants were flourishing by the time cold fall temperatures killed most of the summer garden. The long storage foods had been harvested. Squash was stored under most of the beds in the house. The potatoes had been dug and put in gunny sacks, and stored in the pump house. Paul lamented not having a real root cellar, but the pump house would maintain a cool temperature with higher humidity from the water he had flowing through.
The fruit had all been picked. Most had been canned and dehydrated, but a few boxes of apples were in Paul’s shop. He knew better than to sore the apples and potatoes together since neither spot was well ventilated. Other boxes in the shop held all of the tomatoes that had remained on the vines when the cold temperatures hit. Some would ripen; others would go to the chickens.
Beets, carrots and parsnips were left in the garden and heavily mulched. They could be dug as needed throughout the winter. The onions were in mesh bags next to the potatoes. Jars of fresh honey filled a shelf in the pantry. Dandelion and chicory roots had been dug, cleaned and were drying. They would be ground and used in place of coffee. It wouldn’t have the caffeine kick Paul had been accustomed to, but he hadn’t had real coffee all summer so it wouldn’t matter. The final cutting of hay was baled and under cover.
It was satisfying to see the bounty of the summer all stored and ready for winter. There was just one more thing Paul wanted to add to it. The weather had a distinct bite to it and he was ready for some fresh red meat. Canned meat, rabbit, and the occasional chicken were getting pretty old. Just imagining a juicy steak next to one of those large baked potatoes had him nearly drooling.
He wasn’t a meteorologist by any stretch of the imagination but he had gained a feel for the weather over the past few years. It felt to him like the weather would be cool for some time and he planned on taking advantage of it to hang a beef and eat as much fresh as they could while it aged. They could always can and dry meat at any time if the weather warmed.
Paul wandered out to the pasture fence and looked at the cattle, still grazing on the dry grass. They had done very well over the summer and he would be taking a load to sell soon if things were normal. He tallied how many were spoken for due to summer trades. He came up with two and a half. He glanced at the full wood shed and praised that trade especially. Besides the wood, he had a pile of fir bark. He hoped the tannin in the bark would tan the cow hides into leather. It would definitely be a bigger job than rubbing egg yolks onto rabbit skins.
He would ask some additional neighbors to help with butchering and pay them with the remaining half of beef. One more steer for his own family brought the number to four they would butcher. There was also an older cow that had been barren the past spring. There was no need to continue to feed her. She was well past the age to make steaks but could be ground for burger and canned into stew. He imagined his arm aching from turning the hand grinder that much.
Five in one day would make for a long day, especially without power equipment. But it needed to be done; he wanted to get it done before he had to break into the hay stack for winter feed. That won’t be long. He looked back at the steers. I think we might even butcher one more in the middle of winter and let it freeze hanging. Then we could take meat off it whenever we wanted. He continued to gaze across the field, enjoying the colors that came with fall. The colors of fall rivaled spring with all of its new growth for him. It’s hard to believe it’s been over a year now without power. So many changes, yet that view looks just like always at this time of year.
Standing still too long allowed the cold air to work through his coat. He gave an involuntary shudder as he cooled and he came out of his trance. Okay, time to get on with it. He walked to the house and removed his coat, allowing the comforting warmth from the cook stove to displace his chill. “Anyone want to go on a bike ride with me? I’m thinking we need to butcher some cows in two days, if that will work with you,” he told Ruth with a questioning look. “I was going to go around and invite everyone to the party.”
“That’ll be fine with me. It’s not like our calendar is filled with pressing engagements,” she said with a chuckle. She looked at the pile of rabbit skins in front of her. Many of them had hand shapes traced where she was going to cut them and start making mittens. “I’ll stay here and work on this and get something started in a while for supper. Besides, if you get to talking to Jerry, you might be out half the night.” Always ready to ride, Jenny agreed to go along. Jake and Toni said they would stay and do the chores. Steve was in the living room with Nick, playing checkers and of course, declined the invitation.
The wind on their faces was cold as Paul and Jenny peddled up the road, their fingers cold from gripping the handlebars. Elsewhere they generated enough heat through the physical activity that the cool temperature wasn’t very uncomfortable. As they were heading back towards home, Jenny said, “You know, this will be the biggest group of people I’ve seen together since last winter, when we went to the food handouts. It seems so funny to think that around twenty people is a big gathering.”
“I know what you mean,” Paul said. “I haven’t been around a crowd of people in over a year now, at the last Farmer’s Market of the season. Since then, I guess when we put up the hay was the most people I’ve seen in one place.”
They pedaled on in silence for a while. “Maybe it’s wrong of me, but for the most part, I like the new world we live in,” Paul said breaking the silence. “Things aren’t as convenient now, we have to work hard, but I go to bed at peace with myself nearly every night. There are things I miss on occasion, but there is so much of the old world I don’t miss.
“When I was a kid on a farm not too much different than ours, I couldn’t wait to get out. There was a big world out there with all kinds of opportunities for someone with ambition. I got out all right and was all wrapped up in everything. I’m sorry I wasted all those years, because I saw a whole lot of ugliness out there and just about lost my family to boot. Family values had been pushed so far back. The cities, even before the crash had areas that the cops were afraid to go to.
“I could go on for a long time and editorialize about so many things; our government, waste, greed, ill-behavior, feelings of entitlement, children growing up without their parents guiding them, but I won’t. I can only pray that when the long darkness ends, the people who step forward have a vision of something better than what we had become. I look at little Nick and pray every day that we make him a better world than he was born into.”
“I know what you mean Paul. And Steve would totally freak if I told him something like that. He certainly misses the old ways,” she half snorted. “But not me; not anymore. I can hardly fathom all the personal changes I‘ve had this past year. That woman that almost blew a gasket when “Dancing with the Stars” blipped off the TV screen was so shallow and self-absorbed.” Jenny’s eyes began to mist thinking about it. She was glad there was no traffic or she would have to stop at the side of the road. “I don’t even know who that person was anymore.” She kept her composure while she pedaled, barely.
“I think about my grandparents all the time now. Grandpa worked hard every day of his life. He had a job that didn’t pay much, but he also had his home. He always had a milk cow, chickens and a big garden. He and Grandma grew most of their food to get by. But they seemed happy. I know I was little, but they always seemed so perfect together, nothing like my parents, … or… or….m. Anyway, I miss them so much now. My mom, well she hardly ever let me see them. She’s a whole lot like my husband. I can see now why she was so happy I got a hold of him.” She rubbed her hand across her face, pushing tears away. She was glad to be riding the slower pace Paul preferred, rather than the speed she went when alone.
“I can never express to you how grateful I am to you and Ruth. I feel more like a part of a family than I ever have before. And the opportunity to see Nick every day; well, I would only see him once in a great while before,” Jenny sobbed and stopped the bike. Paul braked beside her and waited while she cried. Through her sobs, Jenny got out, “Just look, now I’m turning into a blubbering idiot.”
Paul sat his bike patiently, “Take all the time you need,” she told her. “It’s a tough road you’re on.”
When she was ready to continue towards home, Jenny looked at Paul, ashamed at breaking down in front of him. “Thanks, I’m ready to go now. Now, why don’t you tell me about what we need to do for this party you’ve got planned. I may be a blonde city-girl, but I’m guessing it’s going to be a lot more work than a couple of bunnies.”
“Maybe a little bit more,” Paul told her with a smile.
*****
The steers and the old cow in the small pen looked at Paul when he left the barn. They had been penned up the previous afternoon and were ready to join the others and start eating. Five steers and the old cow were in the pen. During the visits with the surrounding neighbors, Paul had traded an additional steer for a pig and a spring lamb. Despite his preference for eating beef, too much of it would get tiring. The other meat would be a nice change.
Paul looked around. He could not see anything else they should have accomplished the previous day. Everything was ready as far as he could see. He dropped to one knee and started to talk, “Dear Lord, You have provided for my family as we have gone deeper into this new situation. I can’t guess what your plan is in this, but my life is in your hands. We are about to take the lives of animals you have provided for us and I pray that we are worthy. I ask your blessing on all that we do today. You are the great provider and you put them in my hands and I pray that I haven’t taken your gifts for granted, that my family and myself are deserving. In the name of my savior Jesus, I ask this, Amen.”
Paul stood up and looked at the animals again. I really don’t like to do this. It was so much easier when everything came packaged, but those days were gone. And I better get on with it.
He went to the house with his milk bucket. Ruth and Jenny had breakfast prepared and everyone was up and ready to eat, even Steve, he noticed. Jenny must have guilted him into getting up today since we have a hard day’s work ahead of us.
They had breakfast and all but Ruth went to the small pen; she stayed to clean up from breakfast. Clouds formed as they breathed out in the cold morning air and Paul was glad for the gloves he was wearing, one hand wrapped around the twenty-two rifle. To everything there is a season, ran through his head. Paul directed Jake and the others in general to bring one of the steers into the chute near the overhead beam they had erected the previous day. A come-a-long and chain hung from the timber. He looked around at the sound of approaching people. Just in time. The people that would get the meat were coming down the driveway in various forms.
Jerry was in his old flatbed truck, the cab filled with two other people, others huddled on the bed. Paul couldn’t stop his grin when Dallas turned the corner with his wagon, pulled by two mules, the bells on their harness jingling. His wagon was also loaded with extra people. Well, I better get his over with. Paul pictured the imaginary X on the steer’s head, aimed and fired.
*****
The last animal had been quartered and each section was hanging in the machine shed with the rest. Paul walked through the hanging meat again, happy to see it was devoid of flies. It had warmed enough during the day he was concerned they might have come out. A few yellow jackets were out however. “Hey Jenny, come and watch this,” he said.
Jenny walked over to where he was standing and saw him watching the busy insect. “Aren’t you going to kill it or shoo it away?” she asked.
“Naw, I don’t mind them too much if they aren’t right where I’m working. Just watch it for a bit.”
Jenny watched in fascination as the yellow jacket cut a small piece of the meat free and flew off with it.
“When we are working the meat, they will come and take the tiny pieces off our hands. It feels pretty strange some times, but they don’t sting if they aren’t bothered. Now flies, on the other hand. If they were out, we’d have someone in here trying to keep them shooed away,” Paul told her.
Ruth called from the outdoor kitchen for everyone to come in. She had chairs, hot tea and a large pot of soup ready for everyone. The soup was a thick vegetable blend, nearly a stew, with ample chunks of canned beef. The meat had been in their freezer when the power had gone off and they had canned it to keep from losing it. The soup was accompanied by sour dough bread Ruth had baked that morning.
The stove was burning, emitting comforting heat into the room that had had Visqueen wrapped on it the day before. The group of workers settled in to the chairs, grateful to sit down and have something warm to drink and eat after the hours spent skinning and quartering the animals. Despite the hard work in cool weather, it was a festive atmosphere. Most of the people had only limited interaction with others. As Jenny had stated two day’s previously, this was a big gathering.
“Ruth, this tastes so good, I can almost forget about all those steaks hanging out there,” Jerry said. “No wait a minute, I can’t forget about them after all,” he said with a hearty laugh. “But at least it looks like you cooked with clean heat, not that cow manure stuff. That might stop me from eating if you cooked on ….. that,” he said with a big grin.
Ruth was up for the needling. “What Jerry, you want me to put a wick in a chamber pot and start it on fire like you do at your house? Thank you, but I’m fine with whatever my wonderful husband gives me to cook with.”
The gathered people erupted in laughter at Ruth’s reply; even though most of them had looked at both Paul and Jerry’s system and made a form of one of them for their own methane digesters.
Paul carried his bowl over and sat down near Dallas, wanting a chance to ask about his team. He was especially interested; not knowing how long the stored fuel would remain viable, and whether or not his edamame experiment would pan out. The beans had been harvested but they had run into problems pressing them.
“The mules look pretty well behaved. I’m sorry I didn’t get over to your place when you were putting up hay. How did they do with that,” Paul asked.
Dallas laughed loud like he was hearing a great joke. “Oh man, you should have been there. It was a real rodeo. They had been doing great pulling the wagon. And then the fun started. I hooked them up to that old mowing machine and everything went fine until it actually started cutting. You know how the sickle bar rattles on a mower, well, it spooked the daylights out of them. The more noise, it made, the faster they went so it made even more noise. They did their darndest to outrun that evil thing that was out to eat them. I was holding on for dear life; the reins were pretty much useless. They started getting close to the end of the field. There’s a ditch and fence there. I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I started trying to turn them for all I was worth. Well, they turned, and ran about halfway down the field the other direction. I wasn’t sure if the mules would tire out or the mower would bust into pieces first. Luckily, the field is pretty long so the mules ran out of gas first.” Dallas laughed long and hard, joined by everyone else that was listening. “I can laugh about it now, but I was afraid all three of us were goners while it was happening. They did pretty good after that, I guess they figured out that thing wasn’t going to eat them. Or they were just too tired after their run.
“Raking went better. The first couple of passes across the field, they lurched ahead every time the dump rake cycled, but they settled down pretty soon. It probably didn’t help a bit when I let out a yell when I triggered it the first time. I hadn’t been on one since I was a kid and had forgotten that you just hit the peddle and jerk your leg back. The dang thing just about busted my leg the first time.” Dallas laughed again at the memory, joined by most everyone else. One of the older men didn’t laugh; he nodded his head in remembrance of a sore leg.
Jenny was sorry to see the gathering coming to an end. It had been hard work, but a satisfying day to have all that meat hanging and have a chance to interact with everyone. She knew them all from her rides and had welcomed the chance to get to know them a little better. She had noticed when talking to one couple that Steve was scowling at her. That’s your problem. She continued to enjoy the remaining time with the neighbors.
The quarters of meat were wrapped in a variety of tarps and loaded onto either Jerry’s truck or Dallas’ wagon to be delivered. Scott reminded everyone he had trades with that more of the same fun would be happening at his place in four days. “After all, you’ll probably be sick of that beef by then and want to get some good lamb meat that’s more palatable.”
If the weather remained cool enough, a few days after that, there would be another gathering to butcher hogs at a different farm.
There were still a couple of hours before darkness so Paul went back to the butcher area. Jenny saw he was going back to work so she followed along. On the way past Jake and Steve’s chairs, she lightly kicked each one and nodded towards Paul’s retreating figure. Jake got up immediately, Steve much slower to follow.
Paul had pulled the garden cart up beside the pile of skins. Five of the six remained; one had gone with the man that had traded them firewood. He wanted to try making leather himself. Paul was just beginning to fight with the first hide to get it into the cart when Jenny and Jake joined him. They soon had two loaded and rolled them to the machine shed. “I take it we’re going to tan these. Are we doing it like the rabbits?” Jenny asked.
“No this will be different. I think we’ll try to do two with the hair on and three without. The egg yolks and brains don’t really make leather. From what I’ve read, we need chemicals to do that. So we’ll use that pile of bark I’ve been chopping up to make chips. The tannins in it is what will make the changes in the skins. So now we need to stretch these hides out and cover them with salt. We’ll stack them one on top of the other so we don’t take up all of the space in here.”
“So what’s the point of the salt?” Jake asked.
“It is to cure the hides. It will dry them out without disturbing the structure of the skin. They will start decaying right away if we just leave them, so if we want them to be useful we need to do this pretty quick.” They were pulling the first hide out flat while Paul was telling them about the process.
As Paul was spreading salt, Jenny dropped to her knees and used her hands to get an even coat, making sure it was spread to the edges. She glanced at him. “What next?”
“This might not make a lot of sense, but then we rehydrate them when we’re ready. But drying with the salt stops decay and buys us time. We’ll use water to soak them, getting them pliable and cleaning all of the salt and blood off of them. We’ll do that when we’re ready for the next step. In this cool weather, we won’t need to rush, between the salt and the cold they should be fine for quite a while.” He set the salt box on his bench and started to pull the next skin from the cart.
“At that point, we do different processes for making leather or buckskin, you know, tanning with the hair on. The ones we are going to de-hair, we’ll fill a garbage can or two with some ashes and water and mix it up good and put the hides in. Remember me telling you that lye is caustic? Well, it will eventually loosen the hair up to where it will come loose. It also frees up any fat or meat we left on skinning. So we don’t have to flesh those ones like we do the rabbit furs. We’ll stir our brew two or three times a day. It’s supposed to take a couple of weeks or more.”
The second skin was stretched out so he handed the salt to Jake and picked up the cart handle. “Steve, can you help me load up some hides while these two spread the salt?” He walked away, not waiting to see if Steve would follow; which he did reluctantly.
“So we’ve soaked them in the lye solution until the hair comes out,” Jenny said when Paul and Steve returned with the laden cart. They began to stretch the top hide out on their pile. “I guess we clean all the hair and lye off?”
“That’s right. And we need to stop the action of the lye, so remembering your science class; you neutralize an alkali with an acid. Unfortunately we can’t just run down to the hardware store and get something for this so we’ll have to make our own. Come to think of it, if we could run down to the store and get what we wanted, we wouldn’t be doing this. But anyway, while the skins are soaking in the lye, we’ll be making lactic acid.” He stretched and knuckled his tired back, glad for the short break while Jenny and Jake salted the skin.
“We’ll soak some rice to get starchy water, then save the water separate in a jar. The jar will need to be covered with a rag and then stored in a warm dark place. The starchy water will attract bacteria from the air. Our jar of water will get cloudy and have a scum line at the top. That’s the bacteria, although more than just lactic acid bacteria.”
He pulled the edge of the next hide free from the cart and they all took a side, stretching it out. “So now we need to isolate our bacteria, and lactic acid loves milk. We can mix one part of water to ten parts milk and put it in a warm spot. In about a week, it will be full of lactic acid. If we time everything just right, we’ll have the acid just in time for the hides. After we get the hair and everything cleaned off, we soak and rinse the hides in the acid bath a number of times.
“Then those hides are ready for tanning. In the meantime the other hides, the ones with the hair, should already be in the tanning solution. Before we put them in the solution, we will have to scrape and flesh them. We’ll use the chunks of fir bark and water for the solution and soak them for a few months. Modern chemicals make it go a lot faster, well when they were available anyway, but we’ll make do the slow way and hope we don’t need a new fur coat before they’re done. The tannin will displace the water in the hide and combine with the collagen fibers in the skin. This may take a lot longer than other methods, but makes for the longest lasting leather.”
Jenny stood up, glad to have the last hide salted. “And that’s it?” she asked Paul.
“You should know better than that. Of course there’s more,” he said with a smile. “The hides will need washed in soapy water and rinsed good, and then we have to work them to keep them supple while they dry, just like the rabbit skins. Then we can finish them off with a coating of beeswax or neat’s foot oil. Which brings us to the next thing we need to do.” He took the handles of the cart and started back to where they had butchered.
“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the next project?” Jenny asked as she and Jake walked along with him.
“If we’re going to use neat’s foot oil, we need to make some first.” He bent over and picked up two of the cows feet and put them in the cart.
“This is starting to look almost as fun as most of your projects,” Jenny said as she joined him in gathering feet. “Since we don’t have electricity, these beauties aren’t going to become lamps stands. How do they fit in?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” he told her with a grin. “The term “neat” is an old name for cattle. We’ll skin these shin bones and feet off, remove the hooves and boil the bones and skim off the oil. That oil is called “neat’s foot oil”. It can be used as a preservative and softener for the leather.”
“That just sounds….wonderful,” Jenny said, not sounding like it was even close to wonderful. “I’m sure Ruth will appreciate you cooking that in the house.”
He chuckled at that. “I guess it’s a good thing I have the outside stove.” He parked the cart in the machine shed. “These can wait until tomorrow. Let’s do the chores and call it a day. I’m kind of tired.”
The wood box was filled and they gathered eggs and milked the cow. When they entered the kitchen they were greeted by the aroma of frying liver and onions. “That smells heavenly, Ruth,” Paul told her as he breathed deep. “That’s the best part of butchering day,” he added to Jenny.
He didn’t hear Steve’s less enthusiastic opinion from the living room. “You’ve got to be kidding me. We work like dogs all day, we have all that beef hanging and she is feeding us liver and onions. Give me break!”
*****
The weather cooperated enough that first sheep and then hogs were butchered and shared amongst the workers. The hogs could be either skinned or have the hair scraped off, since the skin was edible. That would have required a vat filled with hot water however to dip them in and one wasn’t easily located, so they opted for skinning.
When the butchering was complete and the hogs were hanging, Paul went through the waste pile and started removing the small intestines. “Does anyone else want any of these?” he asked.
“I don’t know; what are you going to do with them?” Jerry asked.
“I’ll make sausage casings the traditional way,” he said.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jerry said.
“Am I to guess by your underwhelming response you don’t want any of these?”
Paul raised the intestine and cut it free from the stomach, traced it down to the large intestine and made a second cut removing it. He held it by the end and pulled it through his fingers, forcing out as much of the contents as he could. Jerry was watching him, waiting, knowing an explanation was coming.
“I’ll wash this off good and squeeze as much out of it as I can, then I’ll turn it inside out. I’ll wash that side real good and then it’s ready for stuffing. Tie a knot in the end and push it onto your sausage stuffer. If you don’t have a stuffer attachment for your grinder, just use a big funnel. Fill it as tight as you can, then tie the ends into a circle and hang it in the smokehouse. After it’s cured, it’s ready to eat.” He looked at Jerry’s expression as he started looking for another. “After all Jerry, parts are parts.”
He found another small intestine and worked at freeing it. “Or if you want links, fill about five inches and make some twists and do that until you get to the end. Tie the links in a circle and smoke that. I’ll try some that way too.” Jerry shook his head as he watched Paul rummaging through the gut pile.
The following day, the meat was prepared for smoking. Paul cut off the hams and bacons and directed the others to rub them thoroughly with salt. They were set in a wooden box to give the salt time to be absorbed. If the weather held, he hoped to give the meat another good coating in a few days and let it absorb before he started smoking it. While the salt was absorbing, Paul would throw together a small enclosure to act as a smoke house. He had a decent pile of alder wood to smolder for the smoky flavor.
He cut off the lions and the spare ribs and boned out the rest of the hog carcass. They never canned meat with the bone in; it seemed a waste of valuable space. But the bones would be set on the stove in a large stock pot to cook down and make broth. They would can the meat and the broth and make sausage from all the trim. The ribs however, would be cooked and eaten fresh.
When the hog was cut up, Paul went to the shop and looked at the beef and sniffed it in various places. The old cow had already been processed. The meat had been removed from the bones; a lot of it was course ground into burger and cooked into large stock pots of chili that was canned. Other pots were cooked with thick stews, with bite size chunks of meat. It was also canned and added to the pantry. In one form or another, all of the meat and broth was now in jars.
He had been closely monitoring the steer while enjoying fresh steaks. “Probably better take care of this tomorrow.” He removed the bottom round from each hind quarter and carried it to the house. He cut the meat into strips and dropped them in a pot of salt water. After it soaked for a day, he would hang it to dry. When it was dry, it could be stored in canning jars.
After working with the fresh meat all day, Steve was anticipating a nice pork chop, or maybe spare ribs. He face fell when he saw Ruth rolling the slices of heart in a pie tin of seasoned flour. He put on his coat and stomped out into the cold evening air muttering, “All that fresh meat and she’s going to feed us guts again!”
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Post by papaof2 on Feb 11, 2015 11:48:02 GMT -6
Steve doesn't know much history ;-) Organ meats were once considered the delicacies of the animal. Guess many of us have gotten too 'civilized' or maybe just too ignorant of the sources of our food...
I've never cared much for liver in any form (I've been told that cooking it well is an art so maybe I've never encountered a liver artist), but I remember fried chicken at my grandparents' house and getting the chicken heart was a treat. Yes, the chickens were from their backyard.
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Post by bretf on Feb 11, 2015 17:12:06 GMT -6
For me it's the fried heart of anything, as well as the gizzard in the chickens. I never cared for chicken liver, but I like elk liver if I can get the onions right, which I usually don't, but, oh well.
I'm listening to a book to and from work that had something that I thought described Steve. The author is talking about his stubborn character. "Some people can be changed, like tapping something gently with a finish hammer. Hurley however, took sledge hammer blows to the forehead, repeatedly, before he could be swayed." I instantly thought of good old Steve right then.
He is roughly based on someone I know. That Steve wouldn't eat "guts" if he was starving, or a lot of other foods that some of us grew up eating or we would have gone to bed hungry.
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Post by ydderf on Feb 11, 2015 19:56:28 GMT -6
I get a craving for liver every 4 or 5 months. I'm not sure why,maybe an iron deficiency or maybe a fried onion craving. Talking of organ meat I remember eating tongue as a child haven't seen it whole in years, I assume I eat it in sausage or wieners now. I have a vision of my mother with a pair of pliers removing the skin of a beef tongue. In some parts of the world steak and kidney pie is a delicacy.I think I'll pass on that one.
I remember hunting a lot when I lived in the central part of the province. A better and more productive way to spend a weekend then sitting in a bar swilling beer. Many gut piles had the liver intact that's when I learned to really enjoy eating moose liver.
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Post by bretf on Feb 15, 2015 7:33:57 GMT -6
Thank you very much Fred, Papa
Chapter 22
Steve heard the strange sound and took a while for it to sink in what he was hearing. That’s a car or truck. He looked around nervously and saw the approaching vehicle. He forgot all about the row he was irrigating. His heart started hammering when he saw the vinyl lettering reading “Idaho Power Company” on the side of the white pickup. His shovel was dropped and the pistol he carried was in his hand. He didn’t recall drawing it but there was no way that trick was going to work on him twice. It had been five years, but the sight of the truck brought the memory from his subconscious like it was yesterday.
“Hello is anyone home? We’re with Idaho Power Company. We’re going through the neighborhood discussing the restoration of electrical power.” The front of a white Chevy pickup was visible, parked at the side of the street. The cab was obscured from view by the SUV in the driveway. He changed his angle to look at the door, just able to see a sliver of a man’s back. He was dressed in dark blue Dockers and a snug jacket. “That looks like the clothes I’ve seen Idaho Power workers in”.
The door flew open in a shower of splintered wood from the shattered door frame, the door hitting him in his exposed face and knocking him back into the room. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs that had coated his brain and felt warm blood pooling in his nose. Three men burst through the doorway, two with ski masks over their faces; the third, the man with the power company uniform wearing a Groucho Marx glasses, nose and mustache.
Before Steve could regain his senses, he was thrust against the wall, his hands viciously pulled behind his back and secured with a large zip tie. Jenny’s screams came to an abrupt stop with a smacking sound from behind him.
Steve was jerked around in a move that sent pain surging through his left shoulder and slammed back against the wall, his head bouncing painfully off the surface.
He could feel his arms being pulled and secured behind his back, his head hitting the wall. Phantom pain laced through his head and shoulders. The terror he had felt when they had threatened Jenny. His heart pounded and his breathing felt labored. His hands began to tingle from hyper ventilation.
He looked around, desperate for cover or concealment. Something, anything, I’ve got to hide, they can’t do that again. There was little cover to be had in the garden but…; the railroad tie corner post would have to do. He slipped in behind the post while a man exited the pickup. Steve pointed the pistol in the general direction of the man, the end moving all over in his shaking hands. He tried to make himself smaller as he watched the stranger. The man walked to the front of the house– no sneaky or suspicious movements - and posted a notice without knocking. He returned to the pickup, turned it around and drove off down the road.
Paul approached the door while still watching all around – where on earth had he been, Steve wondered. Steve hadn’t seen any other movement, though to be honest he had been focused on the stranger. He worked to control his breathing and get the shaking under control. He saw the moving pistol and used both hands to holster it before it could fall into the dirt. The shovel lay forgotten where it had fallen, the water now running over the handle. He walked toward the house watching the road in case the pickup returned.
He got to where Paul was looking at the paper with Ruth, Jake and Toni. Paul couldn’t decipher most of the paper without his glasses so he handed the paper to Ruth. Steve finally noted the absence. Jenny’s still out on that stinking bike. Why can’t she learn to stay where it’s safe? She better have brains enough to hide if she sees that guy. He had no idea where she rode. He was jolted from his thoughts when Ruth began to speak.
“Here are the highlights of what it says. Idaho Power Company has restored all of the hydro capacity on the three big Snake River dams and has checked the power lines and repaired them as needed to the main Boise substation. They have been working out from there. Most of Boise now has power. They make a note the capitol is powered and our exalted leaders are back in their offices. They are restoring power outwards from there. We should expect crews in our area in two weeks’ time.”
Steve forgot all about Jenny being away. Boise has power! I can finally get out of this pit and go home! He came to an instant decision. “Paul, could we put some of that fuel Jerry made in your truck so I can go check our house and try to find my old boss? You have been wonderful, but if we can get out of your hair and back to our normal life, it would be for the best.”
Ruth’s face fell at hearing Steve. Paul had a grim look when he answered, “Are you sure that’s what you want Steve? You’re more than welcome to stay on here. You’re family, you know.”
“I’m sure. We’ve imposed on you too much, so if we can stand on our own again, we need to,” Steve answered.
“If that’s the way you feel, and I can’t say anything to change your mind, well, you know where the fuel is. At least take Jake with you to ride shotgun. You have no idea what you’ll run into.” Paul took Ruth by the arm and led her into the house.
Steve made a quick trip to his and Jenny’s bedroom. He picked up his wallet where it had lain for years, then went and got the truck keys while Jake was getting two shotguns. After putting some fuel in the truck, they roared out the driveway in a cloud of dust.
*****
Jenny rode her bicycle to the machine shed and noted the absence of Paul’s truck. I wonder what he’s up to. She walked around a little to allow her legs to re-accustom themselves to walking instead of pedaling. The rides invigorated her, especially in late spring and early summer when so much was changing. Everything was growing with such vigor after the cold winter. She headed to the house to change out of her sweaty riding clothes and put on something more appropriate for spending the day transplanting.
Ruth was staring, unseeing out the window when Jenny entered the kitchen. She turned her head and Jenny saw her stricken look. “Ruth, what’s wrong? Has something happened?”
Ruth dabbed at her nose with her handkerchief and held out a paper to Jenny. “You need to read this dear.”
Jenny read the paper and looked back at Ruth. “Ruth, this is fabulous news! I mean electricity, and all the comforts that come with it. How many times have we talked about it, how wonderful it would be to have all of that again? And it’s going to happen. So I don’t get it. Why do you look like the dog died or something?”
“Yes, it will be wonderful to have the power back on, but, well, Steve drove to town. He wants to check on your house and get back there just as soon as he can. The house will feel so empty without you. You’ve become the sister and best friend I never had.”
Jenny felt as if her bodily functions quit working. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t talk, she only stammered, “He…..he…..”
Ruth instantly became the comforter, pulling Jenny into a tight embrace and patting her back. “It will work out somehow dear. We can’t know God’s plans when he puts us on a path, but it will all work out.”
*****
Steve and Jake approached the city, slowing the truck down and looking all around. Burned out shells of buildings greeted them everywhere, some entire neighborhoods. Many of the cars near the road had been riddled with bullets. “Wow Dad, this looks like some of those pictures from the middle of wars. Geez, I’d have never believed that would happen right here, at home. Man, it’s a good thing we got out to Paul’s place.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Steve mumbled.
As they progressed, the destruction lessened, with fewer burned out shells of houses and buildings. If cars had been abandoned along the road, they had been removed. Steve and Jake began to see a few people and more evidence that people were living in the area.
Steve stopped the truck when he made the turn onto his street. Two houses had burned, the foundations marked with their stark charred remains. The rest of the houses appeared in good shape from the outside. Closer scrutiny showed most had been vandalized.
Every lawn looked dead, just showing a spattering of hardy, drought resistant weeds. Where shrubs had been, there was just roughly hacked stumps. A few trees were showing green growth, though most had died without water. All the remaining trees had jagged busted branch ends. Small stumps looking rougher than a beaver gnawed stump marked where smaller trees had once stood. Wood for heating and cooking had obviously been at a premium. The road was full of large cracks, weeds sticking out from many of the gaps.
Steve put the truck back into gear and eased off the clutch. He stopped again in front of his house. Jenny’s Explorer was still in the driveway but was missing the glass in every window. The house looked in the same state: each window he could see had rock holes through them. The garage door had been pulled free of the rollers.
Jake and Steve got out of the truck and moved cautiously towards the open garage, holding shotguns at the ready. Steve cursed and went back to lock the truck’s doors. They ducked under the broken garage door and stepped into a mess. Everything Steve had stored in the garage was strewn across the floor. Many of the items had been broken. He stepped through the chaos and looked down at his busted up sports trophies, feeling regret at leaving them to be destroyed.
Jake continued on through the door leading into the house. The door was askew, hanging from one hinge. The kitchen was just like the garage, but worse. Besides having all their belongings scattered, holes had been busted into the sheetrock walls. Water had come through the broken out window and the flooring was swelled and buckled where the water had settled. Tom’s sheep herder stove was missing. A few splinters were all that remained of their oak table and chairs.
The rest of the house was more of the same; senseless destruction. In the master bedroom Jake bent and picked up the strewn photo albums. I’m pretty sure Mom would like to have these. He carried the shotgun in one hand and cradled the albums in the other. Steve followed him out to the truck and unlocked the doors. After Jake had the albums deposited in the back seat of the truck, he asked, “So what now Dad? The house is quite a mess.”
Steve studied the house a little longer before answering. “Let’s see if we can find Tom. Repairing this place is the kind of work his company did.”
The truck pulled away and started in the general direction of Tom’s house. Steve was already seeing the house looking like it had, enjoying his old life when Jake startled him.
“Hey Dad, do you see that?” Jake asked. “I think that Winco store is open.”
Steve hit the brakes and came to an abrupt stop right in the street. They had encountered a few vehicles once they had reached town; Steve checked the mirrors and was glad there were no cars behind them. His gaze shifted to the store. Yes, there’re a few cars in the lot. An armed guard at the door. He was sure Jake was right when a figure exited the store and went to a bicycle, carrying bags. He stowed the bags in his panniers and rode away.
Steve pulled into the parking lot and shut off the engine. “Let’s see what they’ve got,” he told Jake and got out and walked towards the entrance doors.
The guard looked them over carefully as they approached. “Can you pay? If you can’t, turn around right now,” he stated.
Steve pulled a twenty out of his wallet and showed the guard. He had picked it up on a whim before leaving the house. He had hoped to find businesses operating but hadn’t counted on it.
The guard grunted something that they took to mean they could go in, and walked into the store with wide eyed fascination.
The shelves weren’t full by any means but still, there were a lot of things available that Jake and Steve had lived without for a long time. “Dad, look, toothpaste. Think we could get a tube?” Jake asked.
Steve looked at the prices. He thought they were higher than in the past, but he wasn’t sure. “Yeah, get a tube. It’ll be nice after all that salt and soda we’ve been using.”
They continued to look at what was available. Jake froze at one spot. “Look, they have real tea and coffee.”
Steve’s gaze had slid past them to another display. “Uh huh, but I see something even better.” He walked to a small cooler stocked with beer. “If we get the toothpaste, I’ve got enough for a six pack, but we can’t get coffee.” He didn’t hesitate before he pulled out a six pack. “All right let’s pay for this and hit the road.”
Steve was barely seated in the truck when he pulled a can from the plastic ring and popped the top. He took a long drink and smacked his lips. “Man that is good! I’ve definitely missed that.”
“Uh Dad, if you’re going to be drinking, I should drive,” Jake said uncomfortably.
“I’ll be fine. But aren’t you going to have one? I didn’t get it just for me. It’s for both of us.”
“No, I better not. I want to stay alert in case we run into trouble.” Jake told him.
“Humpf,” Steve grunted and looked at Jake puzzled. “I thought you were my kid.” He took another long drink and emitted a satisfied belch. “Man, that’s good,” he repeated, and took another drink, emptying the can. He tossed if over the back seat, and pulled a second can out and popping the tab before he started the engine and roared out of the parking lot.
*****
“Okay, this one is it,” Steve said in a slur. “I’m sure this time.”
“Yeah Dad, right. That’s what you said what, three or four roads ago?” Jake said, giving his head a shake.
“Hey, don’t cop an attitude on me!” Steve snapped. He crushed the beer can in his hand and tossed it behind him. “I was only out to Tom’s house that one time, and it’s been a few years.” He looked in the bag. “Dang, we’re out of beer. We should have bought more.”
Jake rolled his eyes in response. Oh yeah, more beer is just what we need now. “That barn up there is covered with solar panels. Is that Tom’s place?”
Steve slowed the truck and looked at the barn and house, trying hard to remember. “Yeah, that might be it.” He slowed even more when he saw the mailbox. “Tom Roberts” was still legible in faded paint on the side. “All right, that’s the place. See I told you I could find it,” he told his son, the challenge evident in his tone.
He made a sharp turn onto the driveway, almost missing it. One front wheel dropped into the barrow pit. Jake was sure the truck would either get stuck or take out a fence. Steve managed to get it back on the driveway without doing either.
Steve parked the truck in the circular drive in front of the house and got out with unsteady steps. Jake followed, not sure that he should. A man came from behind the barn, a pistol strapped on his hip and carrying a long gun in his hands. Jake stopped where he was while Steve moved towards the man.
“Tom?” he asked as he got closer. It looked like Tom, just older and more worn.
Tom studied the bearded man in front of him in the loose fitting clothes. “Well I’ll be. Steve Miller. I can’t believe you’re standing here. After I went by and saw the mess your house is in, I wrote you off.” He shifted the shotgun to his left hand and walked to Steve with his right hand extended.
“You went by my house? Why?” Steve asked.
“Yeah, I did. There’s a big rebuilding effort on, now that services are being restored. I’ve still got some connections in the county and they came by to see if I would be involved,” Tom told him. He looked at Jake still standing a few feet behind Steve. “Don’t tell me this is your son.”
“Oh yeah,” Steve said. “That’s him. Jake get up here. You remember Tom don’t you?”
“Hi Tom, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” Jake said.
“You’ve sure filled out since I saw you last. You must be getting good food and lots of exercise. What about that son of yours? What is he, about ten now?” Tom said as he shook Jake’s hand.
Jake was impressed with Tom’s memory. “Close; he’ll turn nine later this summer.”
Tom noticed Steve was unsteady on his feet. “So do you want to come to the back and have a seat, have a glass of water?” I don’t think he needs anything else now: it appears he’s had enough of whatever he found.
“Sounds good, but can you point me to the facilities first,” Steve said.
Tom directed him to an outhouse and Steve considered just stepping behind it to drain his bladder. He hated using outhouses. Better not do that if I want him to give me a job. He opened the door and stepped in. He was puzzled about the set-up; a bucket under the seat, a second bucket at hand filled with sawdust. Wow, it doesn’t stink in here.
Steve stepped out and saw Jake sitting in a lawn chair, half in the shade. The late spring air was nice, but not quite warm enough to sit in full shade. It would be perfect if they were active. Steve pulled a chair into direct sunlight and settled in, anxious for Tom to join them.
Tom returned with a jug of water and stack of cups. He offered a cup to each and began filling them. Steve stared at the water as it filled the cup wishing it was something else. “So you didn’t tell me why you were at my house,” he said before Tom had a chance to get seated.
“Right, I figured if I was going to start up the company again I would look for the guys that used to work for me. So I’ve been going around to where everybody lived to see if anyone was still around. Of course I didn’t find you, but now that you’re here, what do you think?” Tom asked. “Do you want to get back to work?”
“I’d love that Tom.”
“One thing though,” Tom told him. “I’m not anticipating needing full time drafters for some time. You would have to be doing a lot of physical work this time around; you know actually working on houses. There will be limited desk time for a while. Do you still want to do it?”
Steve contemplated for a bit. No, he didn’t want to do the work, but could it be any worse than farm work? At least there wouldn’t be manure to shovel every day. “What about this,” he asked, a thought coming to life. “We make my house livable first thing so I can have a place to stay. I don’t have anywhere to live that’s close enough, so if I go to work for you, well, I’ve got to have a place that’s close, and well, I don’t have any transportation either.”
“I think we could work something like that out,” Tom said.
“Oh, and one more thing. I know I’m not in any position to make demands here, but if you bring Jimmy back, I’ll take a hammer to him, unless I can get ahold of something bigger.”
“Is that so? I didn’t realize you didn’t get along with him.” Tom thought about the days before the power shut off. “In fact, I thought you went drinking with him.”
“Oh yeah, I drank beer with him. A fat lot of good that did me when he and his goons busted into my house.” The venom was obvious as Steve spat the words out. Steve then told Tom about the break in and Jimmy’s part in it. “And after they got what they wanted, they took my car. We were getting out the next morning, so we had to go on bikes. That led to me getting this.” He pulled his tee shirt up and showed Tom the knife scar. “So no, we aren’t drinking buddies any more. I’ve had years to think about him, so it’s not going to be pretty if I ever run into him again.”
“Well, you won’t have to worry about that,” Tom said. “His activities caught up with him. The National Guard cornered his bunch and used them for target practice.”
“Good,” Steve hissed. “The only thing wrong with that is I couldn’t spit on the corpse. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go visit your outhouse again.”
Steve returned and worked out the arrangements with Tom for work. He felt like he was walking on air when he got back into the truck and headed for home, no wait, Paul and Ruth’s place he amended with a chuckle. “Jake, what an incredible day! Too bad we don’t have more beer to celebrate.”
Jake’s look was filled with disappointment. “No Dad, you don’t need more beer. In fact you had about five too many already.”
“Well aren’t you Mister Gloomy Gus. That’s okay; I’m not going to let you get me down. This day has been too good to let that happen. In fact, I can’t remember when I’ve felt so good.” He began to hum and then to sing; Green Acres is the place to LEAVE Farm living is the life for fleas Land stretchin’ out so far and wide Don’t want Manhattan but get me out of that country side.
He finished with uncontrolled laughter at his wit, turning that lame song from the old show into something more appropriate. “Man, what a moron that guy was!”
They were within a couple miles of home when Steve stopped the truck and peed in the road. When he was finished he opened the back door and brushed all of the beer cans out into the road.
“Classy Dad, that was just so classy,” Jake told him when he got back in and started driving again. I guess I’ll ride a bike over here tomorrow and clean up his mess.
The remainder of the ride was completed in icy silence.
They pulled in just in time to see Jenny going to the barn with the milk pail. “Put my shotgun away, will ya? I’ve got to tell your mom the great news.” He dropped the keys on Jake’s lap and got out of the truck and went to the barn.
He leaned against the wall while Jenny got the cow in the stanchion and settled on the stool to milk. “Great news Babe, we’re getting out of this hole.”
Her hands froze for a moment and tears leaked from her eyes. Haven’t I done enough of this already today? “This isn’t a hole, Steve. It’s a wonderful home and farm.”
He continued undaunted, unhearing. “So Tom is getting his company back together and of course, he wants me back. In fact, I’m the first one, isn’t that great? The first house we work on will be ours, so that I can have a place to live in town again. While we’re doing that, he’s going to let me stay in his camper. Then as soon as the house is ready, I can come and get you and take you back home.” He sounded so pleased.
Jenny paused in her milking long enough to wipe at her eyes and blow her nose. “It sounds like you’ve got everything figured out. But what if I don’t want to leave? We have a good life here, Steve. We don’t need to go back there. That life was so. . . empty.”
“What are you talking about? This is a good life? We bust our fannies every day just to get by. No, forget it, we’re going home.” He no longer sounded pleased; his good humor had been replaced by a smoldering fury.
“I really don’t want to go. I’m happy here. Please reconsider.” The milk bucket plopped with the tears dripping from her face.
“No I won’t reconsider, but you consider this. That Bible you are always reading has some pretty direct words for you. It says wives are to obey their husbands. You remember that one? Well I say we are going home as soon as I can have the house ready.” He stomped out of the barn, leaving Jenny motionless, her head leaning on Jennifer while she wept.
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Post by papaof2 on Feb 15, 2015 8:19:06 GMT -6
Steve has a bit of Bible he can quote, but I don't think he would respond well to the associated verse about how husbands should treat their wives. And probably not the verse about being unequally yoked with unbelievers.
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Post by kaijafon on Feb 15, 2015 14:15:20 GMT -6
Actually STEVE, the bible does NOT say "Wives obey your husbands"; but rather "respect" them. And to submit to them ONLY unto the Lord.
lol! just saying!
thanks for the moar!
snicker
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Post by ydderf on Feb 15, 2015 19:58:48 GMT -6
Steve needs some sort of come-upance perhaps finding out he will become an indentured employee to pay for the cost of repairing his house. Maybe his repairs to his own house will be undone by thievery and jealousy while he is away working.
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Post by willc453 on Feb 16, 2015 15:24:52 GMT -6
Really enjoying the story, but having trouble with some of it.
In chapter 5, Tom (Steve's boss) comes around with not only cash for pay owed to Steve, but helps them both out. Question is, where did Tom come up with all this cash as he's paying off, what, 4 or 5 employees? Remember, the banks/ATN's are down. Figured maybe he hadn't made a bank deposit with that weeks companies cash or maybe he was/is a secret prepper? In any case, he's a good man to take care of his people after shtf. And who knows what Bill (the prepper) is/was doing all this time?
In chapter 11, if I had been one of the bad guys, I'd of made sure Steve was out of the fight and would include whacking him a few times in the head with Steve's baseball bat. Why not? No LEO's/armed people to stop us from us doing what ever we want to. As Steve loses consciousness/his life, he can see/hear his wife screaming as she's dragged off to be raped. From what I understand, she's WILF material even with her hair cut short. The bad guys would of taken the bikes (if they had seen them) along with their meager supplies. Maybe rape her off and on thru the night and a couple of times more the next morning before leaving her. She's crawling/stumbling to the road where she finds Steve's body and that's when her son, etc. find her. They had gone looking for them the day they were attacked, but maybe an hour or three later in the day. And they find the wife next to Steve's body after checking their house out to find no one home and returning to their own place.
The reason I put all this down is not all shtf stories end happily ever after. Steve/Jenny had loads of ignorance/stupidity/arrogance and refusing to realize how bad things could be not only were beginning, but how even badder it would get as time goes by. And because of their ignorance/stupidity/arrogance, at least they should of paid even more of a price than what they did in chapter 11.
On SB, there was a story called The Know It All. Deals with a college kid who is into prepping and tries to tell people to be prepared and if you don't listen/agree with him, you're stupid and goin' to die. Kid finds out real quick maybe he doesn't know everything. It's a short story that I sent off to Dad as he's into these kind of stories (Alas, Babylon, etc.) and printed the first 4 chapters of this story to send off to him. Up to him if he checks out the rest of the story. And Dad's old school, meaning he grew up during The Depression years. When Hurricane Andrew came thru Homestead, he came out okay, though his Winnebago was destroyed when the car port at my brothers place collapsed. Dad got the insurance money, but he did yank the generator out of it and now has it wired to run some of his appliances/lights if power does go out.
As a truck driver, I have several inverters (backups which is why I have 3) which goes into the cigarette lighter plug. I have the lower end (price/wattage wise) of them, but I can recharge my phone, laptop and a battery charger for double A batteries, etc. Because it's at the low end of wattage, can't use an Xbox/PS2.
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Post by bretf on Feb 17, 2015 6:32:27 GMT -6
Thank you all. Steve is one (and I know there are many out there) that take only the convenient verses and not the complete body of work, therefore, missing the point altogether.
Will, did you read the first story The Danged Rocks? It goes more into the time leading up to the power going off. It isn't instant as so many are. Tom is a sharp person who uses that time to his advantage. He is the type of guy that is distrustful of the systems in place, even though he had a career in the county, and while not a hard core prepper is able to see things falling apart and adjust.
Bill the prepper: the Danged rocks is his story. He describes himself as a self -sufficiency guy, rather than a prepper, but it's all there.
It also introduces us to Jimmy. Frankly, he is one of these guys that only does enough to stay in beer and smokes.
When I first started this story, it was going to end incredibly close to what you described, but I had a change of heart. Part of me rebelled at "playing to the audience". Of course on these types of boards, it is usually the prepared types that do well, and the couch potatoes fail, I wanted to mess with that result a little bit, not that I think that is accurate. It is fiction after all.
With that it mind, there were some things I wanted to tell that I hadn't included in The Danged Rocks. When I did that story (and this one as the follow up) it was on another forum. The thread was "Five years later: it's been five years after an EOTWAWKI event, how are you living, how has your life changed?" I had never written anything more than an essay and that was pushing forty years ago, but that thread wouldn't leave me alone. So I started writing my version. I had seen numerous posts on the forum asking questions that I knew the answer from being raised that way, as well as other things I had picked up over the years. I wanted to share some of the information in the story. After Bill's story ran it's course, I remembered some other things that I have been asked, so Jenny was the perfect rookie to learn them. (Just two months ago, an acquaintance asked me to teach her to butcher chickens) So Jenny and Steve were spared form the "you didn't prepare death sentence."
Steve never was supposed to make it out of chapter 11, just Jenny. But since I wasn't going to have the gang of rotten bikers raid the farm, I had to have some friction, and who better than Steve to provide it. Thanks for reading and commenting.
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Post by willc453 on Feb 18, 2015 21:17:48 GMT -6
bretf, thanks for responding. I haven't read all of The Danged Rocks and what I have read, I really, really enjoyed. I haven't finished reading it because of my work schedule. Glad you reminded me that this story is a continuation/different point of view of the same thing happening over the U.S. To me, Amanda and the others in that story are real and felt her pain/loss of her Dad. As to Steve/Jenny, they were like frogs in a pan of water over a fire, not noticing the water has been getting warmer and warmer, but fortunately, their son/in laws were able to kick the pan over/off the fire.
As to "playing to the audience", my advice is: DON'T! Doing so is like a girl letting a guy rest his hand on her knee and before she knows it..... There's a lot of good stories at SB, but they all seem to be like yours: preppers who are prepared and nothing bad happens to them. Anyone remember the Out Of The Ashes by (I think) William Johnstone? I really liked the first 4-6 books, but after awhile, it got to be unreal with nothing bad ever usually happening except to the bad guys, at least most of the time. There's a series of book called The Dresden Files by Jim Butcher and Harry (main character) knows bad things happen to good people no matter how hard he tries to prevent it. Which is why I've my story has an entirely different slant of survival.
For those interested, read Stephen Kings short story, The Mist which was also made into a movie. I was surprised/shocked that the movie followed the book except for the end and was bummed out on that ending. If it ain't broke, don't fix it. But still worth reading/watching.
Never thought of teaching people how to do different things in a story....that's sneaky and where's my thumbs up/big, happy face buttons?
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Post by bretf on Feb 19, 2015 18:07:34 GMT -6
Thanks again Will. Of course in The Danged Rocks, Bill is the most prepared guy and he is buried in the garden. It was a reminder that no matter how well you think you can do in an EOTW event, there’s bound to be something you’ll miss. Somebody has to make it to pass on the historical record. And I really didn’t want to get into marauders and what not. I’ve seen that covered with the hero able to overcome those odds. As I said, I wanted to share knowledge, and it would have gotten pretty bad if I had gone on and on about how good Bill or Paul or whomever was with his 30:06 (since my elk hunting rifle is what I’m most familiar with) and able to overcome the bad guys with their assault rifles. I’ve got a short story here in the completed stories section about the guy that has prepared for any scenario. Could you look through it (it’s a quick read) and give me your thoughts on it?
Chapter 23 – The Final Chapter
Jenny sealed the lid on the paint can and filled an empty coffee container with water to clean her paint brush. She looked at the stove where the supper she had prepared was drying out. Okay, I’ve waited long enough. He’s evidently ‘unwinding’ again as he calls it. I call it getting plastered. She left her brush in the water, filled her plate and carried it into the back yard. She sat in the lawn chair near the small chicken pen that held her only companions. “It’s just us again tonight girls,” she said.
The time at home - she was trying to consider it home even if it didn’t feel like home any more – had been even worse than the first cold winter without power. She was trying hard, Lord knows she was trying hard to make it a home, but she was doing it alone. Steve got up early each day and drove away. He had had the gas tank on the Explorer repaired and obtained a new battery for it. The windows were still busted out, but that didn’t seem to bother him. He returned home most nights after she had already gone to bed, reeking of beer.
When she asked him about it, he had blown up at her. “I work hard all day and I’m just unwinding with the crew for a while. And getting something good to eat in the process.” He had expressed his displeasure for any meals that reminded him of his time on the farm. He seemed to be living on beer, burgers and fries.
Jenny spent most of her time working inside the house. Oh yes, Steve and Tom had repaired the house: they had fixed the doors, windows and walls. Everything else was left for Jenny. She spent countless hours scrubbing and painting, trying to bring the house back to what it had been.
She tried visiting the neighbors for some respite, but they were just plain weird. The nearest one had a husband that worked for the FEMA shelter. She droned on and on about all the good things her husband and the wonderful shelters had done for everyone. She looked at Jenny like there was a horn growing from her forehead when Jenny described some of the things she had done in the past five years.
The next closest neighbor had spent time in that same shelter. She didn’t describe it with the same glowing terms; in fact she jumped at nearly every sound. She didn’t say it happened to her personally, but said that beatings and rapes were commonplace there.
The bright spot in Jenny’s existence had happened one day when she heard a diesel engine shut off in front of the house. She had looked out the window and squealed with joy when she recognized Paul’s old truck. Paul, Ruth, Jake, Toni and Nick were all getting out and she ran to greet them, hugging them all in turn.
The back of the truck had quite a load. There was a dog house like structure on legs that Paul said was her new chicken coop. A crate held three hens. There was wire and steel posts to make a pen. Two feed sacks were full of grain for the chickens. A large pile of compost filled part of the bed and was accompanied by tools, a wheelbarrow and young plants. “We didn’t want you starving here on the . . . stuff they call food,” Paul had told her with a smile.
The house was forgotten for the day. They spent a happy day putting in the chicken pen, turning over the sod in half the back yard and transforming it into a garden. For the day, Jenny was able to forget her existence; for one day she felt alive again.
Jenny brought herself back to the present. She finished her meal and scraped the plate off for the hens. “There you go girls; eat up. I’ll come out and lock you up after I do the dishes.” She walked to the house. Wow girl, now you’re down to talking to your chickens. How long before you start to understand them when they answer?
*****
The doorbell ringing startled Jenny. It was an uncommon sound and always made her nervous when it broke the oppressive silence. She didn’t recognize the person she saw through the peephole. “Yes, what is it?” she asked through the door.
“Mrs. Miller,” the man said. “I’m Jeff Wallace with Century Link. Your husband arranged for us to get your phone hooked up today.” He held an identification tag in front of the peephole.
The pistol was in her right hand when Jenny opened the door and asked to see the tag closer. After she looked it over closely, she allowed the man in but kept the gun in hand and watched him the entire time he was working. He was glad to have the job done and leave. Man, I think she was ready to shoot me if I did anything sudden. I wonder what her story is.
Jenny watched him leave then walked over to the phone and picked up the receiver. A dial tone, it’s really a dial tone. She pondered what to do now. Did she even know anyone to call anymore? She found her address book that had somehow survived the vandalism to the house. Steve had told her she should toss it when she put all of her contacts in her smart phone, but she had put in in a drawer in her nightstand instead. Now she opened it and started turning pages. Mom and Dad, I wonder. Are they alive? Are they home? Her hand was shaking as she dialed the number.
Jenny heard the phone ring. And ring. And ring. That’s a good sign isn’t it? For the phone to ring, it must mean that there are people there, right. It’s good that it’s ringing isn’t it? On the fifth ring, a tentative voice answered, “H… hello.”
Is that her? It’s been so long. “Mom,” she said uncertain, “It’s Jenny.”
“Jenny, is it really you?” she said and broke off sobbing into the phone; Jenny doing the same on her end. “Oh darling, it’s so good to hear your voice. I just knew Steve would take care of you.”
It was an emotional afternoon as they talked and caught up with each other. Jenny’s parents had used their wealth and influence to buy a position in a community that was prepared for the crisis. It was a process that had played out in many places: if you were wealthy enough, you got by.
*****
Tom had piles of paperwork to fill in with the new subsidized building program he was participating in. One day a week, he did nothing but paper work. Those days, he had Steve complete any drawings they needed prior to doing a job. Business had been picking up and Tom had added another crew. He was afraid he would soon be stuck at his desk more than not. And this day was the worst one yet. He heard Steve make a call for the third time that morning.
“Hey Jen, are they there yet?” he asked into the phone.
“No they are not. I told you I would call you when they came. I’m starting to reconsider that. Tom isn’t paying you to pester me, now start earning your pay.”
“Oh all right, but you make sure you call me.” He hung up and day-dreamed about the evening. Finally his home was going to be his castle. After so long, the new dish was being installed. He had set up a new big screen television two nights before. It was all happening just in the nick of time.
The NFL had put together twelve teams and the first game was going to be that night. America was finally back! Nothing said that like Monday Night Football.
Steve could barely contain himself at the desk until the phone rang. He spoke excitedly and hung up. “They’re on their way Tom, so I’ll be taking off now. Are you sure you don’t want to come over tonight?” he said as he picked up his jacket and lunch bag and hurried out the door. He didn’t listen for Tom’s response.
Tom took his glasses off and ran his fingers through his hair. He shook his head and sighed as he heard the car door slam, the engine start and speed away. “No matter how long I live I’ll never understand the injustices in this world. Someone as pulled together as Bill is dead and buried yet that guy came through it all somehow.” He looked towards the ceiling, “Lord, please grant me patience to accept what I don’t understand. I can only guess you’re not done with this one yet.”
Steve sped down the road, unmindful of speed limits. With all the other concerns in rebuilding, enforcing traffic laws was low on the priority list. Many areas remained unsafe to venture into but each day brought improvements.
The car came to a stop at the liquor store, kicking up a cloud of dust. The powers that be seemed intent on the adage “Bread and Circuses”. The liquor stores had been some of the earliest business re-established. Keep the populace inebriated and stupid; they are much easier to control. Not to mention collecting all of the sin taxes.
*****
Jenny watched quietly while Steve and his friends yelled at every hit on the field. His friends; where were they when he was bleeding by the road? Popcorn and chips were scattered on the floor and ground into the carpet; the carpet she had worked so hard to clean. Pop and alcohol was spilled on the floor and the couch. She flinched when they jumped to their feet and yelled for an extra hard hit. Just like when that thug knocked him down. The only thing that’s missing is slipping a knife between his ribs. No wonder they turned savage, it’s been programmed into them and they’re all too stupid to see it.
She picked up her sweatshirt and ran out the back door unnoticed. Her tears ran freely once she was outside. Steve never noticed, only looking up once to see if she would refill his drink. He muttered a curse as he had to extricate himself from his chair and go to the kitchen and help himself.
The three chickens in the small run were blurry through Jenny’s eyes. But she went to the side of the run and clung to the wire. The hens saw her and ran over, expecting a hand out. She held onto the wire like she was grasping a life-line, grooves forming in her hands and told the hens she was sorry she didn’t have a treat for them. She turned around, her vacant gaze passing the small garden she had been nurturing. She didn’t appreciate the nearly ripe tomatoes that always gave her so much satisfaction, the cucumbers and zucchinis that were ready to pick.
Her distant gaze was on the farm with Paul and Ruth. “Thank you for saving us Paul and Ruth, or at least me. I love you and can never begin to make it up to you.” Her vision shifted and instead of Paul’s farm, she saw a hard-scrabble farm in Arkansas, a little girl laughing with her grandparents. “Grandma, I wish I could live here with you always,” the girl said. “So do I sweetheart. Nothing would make me happier.” The little girl was scooped up and held close, then nose to nose, the woman told her, “Nothing would make me happier than to have you here, always.”
Jenny jumped at the sound of breaking glass in the living room followed by a curse and raucous laughter. “Wow man, your wife’s gonna be ticked at you,” came out in alcohol slurred speech.
“Big deal,” came Steve’s boast. “She can get glad in the same pants she got mad in.” The comment elicited howls of drunken laughter.
She walked to the sliding glass door and looked in at the scene, then back at the small garden and chicken pen. Her mind flew over the time since she had returned to the house with Steve. “It’s so good to be back home,” he had said, and then avoided the place as much as possible. When he wasn’t at work, he was with his friends, more often than not at a bar. He had shown no interest at all in her garden and threatened to kill the chickens each time he ventured into the yard.
She thought of all the hours she spent at the house alone, cleaning and trying to restore it to how it had been. Oh sure, Tom and Steve had replaced the windows, repaired the door casings, patched the sheetrock. But there was so much more to it and she and done it alone, always alone. And now he was trashing it with his friends.
As she looked in at the mess in the living room, her resolve firmed. “This isn’t home. This is prison and I’ve been in solitary confinement!” She went unnoticed to her bedroom and took out a pack. The few clothes she had and her Bible went into it. Steve had insisted she buy more clothes, we’ve got a great line of credit with the bank, but she had refused.
She opened another drawer and took out a fleece vest and fur mittens. Holding them tight to her chest, the memories flooded her mind; Ruth and Janet so patient while they taught and helped her. She put the items in the pack and took the knitting needles and yarn out of the drawer and forced them into the now full pack. It was a strain to secure the zipper, but she got it closed.
She sat on the bed and took a piece of paper and pen from the nightstand and jotted a quick note and folded it across the alarm clock. She reached into the nightstand drawer once more and removed Paul’s pistol and box of ammo. Under the pistol, she noticed something she hadn’t thought about in a long time, nearly another lifetime ago. It was the lock of her long hair she had saved so long ago. She picked it up and studied it, and tried to remember the woman whose head it was cut from. Unable to re-connect with that person, she laid the hair on the note she had just written and returned her thoughts to the pistol. Paul had insisted she take it with her when she had left. After she checked the magazine, she dumped the remaining ammo into a side pocket in her pack. She carried it and the pack to the garage and set it by her bicycle.
The crate Paul had brought the chickens in was still in the garage. She carried it out to the pen and coaxed the hens close, caught them and put them in the crate. The crate was awkward but sat firm once she had secured it on the bike’s rack.
She went into the house and ignored the request for another beer while she filled water bottles.
Even over the television’s noise she heard the drunken voice, “Dude, your lady has some ‘tude happenin’. I thought you said you had her trained.” The comments were followed by howls of laughter.
As she looked around she didn’t see anything there she wanted. She looked once more at Steve. The man was truly in his element: he had his television with the sports channels and his drinking buddies. He didn’t need anything else.
She walked out and packed the water bottles for travel. She strapped on the holster, put her pack on and got on the bicycle, and pushed off, riding rapidly towards the setting sun. She never looked back; it was time to look ahead. She should be out of town by dark if there wasn’t anything to bother her. It would be smooth riding after that.
She thought once about the note she had left for Steve, “You told me once to go back in time all I want, but I was doing it by myself, and then tried to insult me by calling me Laura Ingalls. You are the one that’s gone back, and frankly, I don’t want to relive that past. Have a good life.” She had signed it simply “Jenny”, nothing else. The lock of hair could help him remember that Jenny from the past; she sure didn’t need to remember. Should I have taken him aside and actually told him? No, we haven’t talked to each other in so long, or did we ever, she amended the thought.
She dismissed it from her mind and reminded herself it was time to look ahead, always ahead. No more going back to rebuild the broken past. She looked towards the future and the setting sun and did some quick calculations. “I should be home a little after midnight, one o’clock at the latest.”
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Post by 2medicinewoman on Feb 19, 2015 18:41:52 GMT -6
Good good story! Steve is lost. He has no fortitude to look farther than his "perfect" life he had been living and now continues to pursue that life.
Thank you so much for sharing with us. Well done!
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Post by ydderf on Feb 20, 2015 5:50:34 GMT -6
The ending caught me by surprise! It fits though. Thank you for a tight well written story. I hope this is not the end for these characters once Jenny gets back to the farm there is plenty of room for another story or three.
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Post by bretf on Feb 24, 2015 6:20:09 GMT -6
2MW, Fred, Thank you very much for the kind words. It was a pleasure to bring this story to you.
If you aren’t tired of me yet, I am working on another story now. It’s going a little slower than my other stories did. It isn’t in the Danged Rocks and Long Darkness worlds, it’s a whole new story.
But Fred, since you want more about Jenny, there is this one more segment. I wrote this about nine months after the first draft of the story was finished. It came about from comments I received at the end of “The Danged Rocks.” (Kaijafon, here it is) It was one of those thoughts that came to me and wouldn’t leave me alone while the details worked themselves out when I should have been sleeping. I hope you enjoy it.
A few days after it was done, I had another idea for Jenny and started writing feverishly. I had to make myself stop and concentrated on the new story I’d already started. So there may be more about Jenny in the future, but it will be quite a while out if I do it.
Again, thank you all! Bret
The Long Darkness – A supplement
“Are you sure you won’t come back home?” Jenny’s mother asked her yet again. Her arms were stretched out in front of her, her hands clutching her daughter’s hands. They were standing in the Boise Municipal Airport, in the area leading to the security gates. The older woman would soon board an airplane for the first leg of her trip home to Arkansas. Nick had accompanied them and stood next to his grandmother Jenny. “After all, you don’t have a husband anymore,” this statement was delivered with a sour look on her face, “And Jake is grown. There’s nothing holding you here anymore. Come home with me. A few of your old friends are still there; some of them made it through those troubling times. And I’ve told you all about Kevin. He’ll have your Dad’s job after he retires next year. He needs a wife and a woman could do a lot worse.”
The conversation was another round of the same conversation they had had nearly constantly since Jenny’s mother had arrived ten days earlier. Although Jenny loved her mom dearly, she couldn’t wait for her to leave. “Thanks Mom, but the answer’s the same. I’m staying here. I have a good home. I get to see Nick here every day and see what a great young man he is growing up to be.” She freed one hand from her mother and gave the boy an affectionate squeeze around his shoulders.
“Then if you won’t come home with me, what about”
“Mom, no! I’ve told you Steve and I live totally different lives now and we have for the last five years. We are not getting back together. So don’t even try to go there.”
“But Jenny, you can be so much more than a simple farmer. I know it was important during the troubles, but that’s all in the past. Leave it in the past and get back to the life you deserve. And I’m sure Steve”
“Mom, I know it’s not for you, but I love the way I’m living now. I feel more fulfilled than I ever did when I lived in town. You need to face up to it that you and I are different. This is the life I’ve chosen.” Jenny hadn’t told her mother about another reason she wouldn’t ever go back to the city. She would really freak out if she knew her daughter was dating a common farmer. She would be aghast to learn they had discussed marriage, but were taking it slow. The man, Jim, was a neighbor of Paul and Ruth’s that Jenny had seen a few times during the crash. It was always at the gatherings where the neighbors got together to work on labor intensive projects. Jim was the anti-Steve. He loved the land and what it provided to them. He had been quiet around her for a long time; now the two of them spent hours talking, hiking, and working together.
“Oh darling, I just want something better for you. You deserve it,” Jenny’s mother said.
“Mom, I love you, but my mind is made up. Now you better get in line. You don’t want to miss your plane.” I don’t want you to miss your plane! “If you stayed here, Paul would have no choice but to put you to work,” Jenny said, grinning.
“Oh all right,” she said and pulled Jenny into a hug. “You too Nick,” she said and pulled an arm free to include him.
Jenny and Nick stood to the side and watched while the carry-on bag was run through the x-ray machine and the body scan performed. When she had her shoes back on, Jenny’s mother gave her one more imploring look, waved and walked towards the boarding gates.
“Well, we better hit it Kiddo,” Jenny told Nick. She wrapped an arm around his shoulder and turned him towards the exit. “Since when did you get this tall? You’re as tall as me now.” “Grandma,” Nick said. “I don’t mean to be rude, but well, your mom is kind of a snob.”
Jenny hugged the boy tighter and steered him to the escalators. “Yes she is. I’m glad I grew out of it. Now let’s get out of this crazy place.”
They maneuvered through the building and went to the short term parking area for the truck. Jenny and Nick would have parked as far from the concourse as possible enjoying the long walk and cheaper rates in the long term lot, but her mother wouldn’t hear of it. She directed Jenny to park in the covered short term lot and had placed a ten dollar bill beside the parking ticket. She wasn’t about to walk all the way across the lot. They paid the parking fee and exited the lot.
Driving away from the airport, Jenny noted all of the empty lots where motels and apartment complexes had stood before the crash. The burned rubble had been cleared away, but the blackened concrete footings remained like skeletal reminders of what had been. A few houses were being constructed, but not many. The population had taken a big hit and there was still a surplus of housing. Jenny shuddered at the thoughts.
“We need to stop and get some groceries since we’re here, but we’ll stop at the store across town so when we’re done we can get going easier, and you won’t have to drive in as much traffic. Does that work for you?” Jenny asked.
His face lit up. “Really, you’ll let me drive home?” Nick had been driving around the farm – fuel allowing – for years, although most of the time it was on the small tractor. Once fuel supplies were re-established, Paul had been letting him drive the truck on the country roads around the farm.
“Really. After all you’re going to turn fourteen next month. That used to be the age you could get a license.”
*****
Jenny pulled the truck into the Winco parking lot and parked near the back of the lot. Besides liking to walk, she didn’t like trying to maneuver the truck into parking spaces with cars on each side. One end of the store was newer than the rest of the building. She had been told that looters had started it on fire to create a diversion while they stormed the front entrance. It wasn’t enough that the terrorists were burning stores down. She was still amazed that she and Steve hadn’t fared even worse by staying in town that first winter.
Jenny turned her shopping cart into the baking aisle. “Okay, Nick, we need baking soda, baking powder and vanilla from this aisle. There might be more things we need; we’ll just have to see what else is here. Jenny glanced at a woman in front of the soda and stopped. That woman looks familiar, but where would I know her from? She continued to shoot glances and tried in vain to dredge up the memory of where she might have known the other woman. So many memories of her old life and the people in it were blurry, when she could remember at all. It felt like a different life and she had been a spectator rather than a participant.
The woman put a box of soda in her cart and was ready to push the cart away when Jenny’s curiosity made her speak. “Excuse me, but you look familiar, and I can’t place where I might know you from. My name is Jenny Miller by the way.”
The other woman studied Jenny’s face and mouthed the name. A look of recognition swept over her features. “Of course, I remember now. I’m Amy Moser. Your husband is Steve isn’t he? My husband Bill used to work with him for Tom.”
“That’s right, Amy Moser. Well, that would be ex-husband now, but, yes that would be Steve.
“I was so sorry to hear about Bill. I always wished we would have had a chance to tell him how much the stuff he arranged for the guys at the shop helped us and thank him for it. That first winter was brutal, and I’m sure I wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for him. It doesn’t seem right that he didn’t make it.”
“I appreciate that Jenny. He would be happy that you two made it through everything. But you aren’t with Steve now? That’s too bad,” Amy said.
“Well, I feel that I finally grew up, and in doing so, we just grew apart. Steve went back to the old ways, but I couldn’t.”
A younger woman came around the end of the aisle walking toward the two women. A boy of about four or five was carrying a coffee container, while a little girl that looked just big enough to walk was carrying a box of tea bags. “I thought you were coming over there Grandma,” the boy said. He dropped the coffee over the edge of the cart.
“I’m sorry honey. I ran into someone I knew from before you were born. This is Jenny, her husband worked with your grandpa Bill before the lights all went out. Jenny, this is Billy. And this little lady is his sister Jessica. The taller one here is my daughter Amanda,” Amy said. Jenny held out her hand to Amanda, “It’s nice to meet you,” she said. She dropped to one knee and greeted both of the kids. After she stood back up, she put her hand on Nick’s back. “And this strapping young man is my grandson Nick,” Jenny said.
Jenny looked down at the two children. “Amanda, you are so blessed to have such lovely children after what we went through. There were times I thought nothing good would survive.” She sniffed, remembering.
“It was so good to run into you Amy, and again, I’m so sorry about Bill. I can appreciate the type of man he was now; something I couldn’t do when I knew him. But we better get going. We’ve still got to get home in time for chores,” Jenny said.
Amy and Amanda both said goodbye and watched Jenny and Nick go down the aisle. Amy was questioning her memories. Jenny seemed nothing like she remembered.
After the shopping was done and the purchases loaded up, Jenny tossed the keys to Nick. He got a huge grin on his face and climbed into the truck behind the wheel. He was so close to his grandmother’s size that he didn’t have to adjust the seat or mirror. He pulled out of the parking spot after making sure it was clear, then made a cautious entrance onto the highway and picked up speed gradually. Jenny watched him and admired how well he was doing. What a fine young man he is turning out to be. And those lovely children of Amanda’s. She is so blessed to have both a son and daughter. Jenny was filled with a surge of hope for the future.
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Post by ydderf on Feb 24, 2015 13:30:09 GMT -6
Thanks. If you like send your muse to see me and I will ask that you be imbued with further Jenny stories.:-)
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jackorchuck
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Post by jackorchuck on Feb 26, 2015 6:18:25 GMT -6
Interesting story of a couple ill prepared for the collapse. Well written, I enjoyed it, thank you.
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Post by bretf on Feb 27, 2015 18:56:51 GMT -6
Thank you Fred, and jackorchuck. It is greatly appreciated.
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Post by kaijafon on Feb 28, 2015 8:30:54 GMT -6
nice little extra epilogue! Any other POV's on this great story? lol! (bad moar zombie kellie with your ever present thirst for moar story)
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Post by texican on Mar 21, 2015 22:20:20 GMT -6
A year's worth of toilet paper for two people will fit under a twin bed. Not in our hosehold.... Store our tp in a container.... and wonder how long it will last when non more tp can be purchased.... Texican....
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Post by freshwaterpearl on Apr 1, 2015 22:03:23 GMT -6
Good story. I like that you have Steve reliving his nightmare of the beatings, and his terror when the electric guy showed up. This is PTSD and it takes a long time to get through it. It doesn’t explain his being a jerk, of course.
I live in dairy country (more cows than people in my county) so maybe I’m way off- but.. I think Paul would have introduced the Jersey to the stanchion and her udder being touched well before she was ever milked. He would have done it slowly and by the time he was ready to milk her she would notice but not be reactive. Why isn’t he giving the internal organs he doesn’t want to the dog? Also, I think that you don’t need to outline the gutting of both the rabbit and the chicken, just one is sufficient. If someone really needs to know how it’s done with a chicken they can get Carla’s book, which you generously advertised. I know you are telling people what they would need to do, but you don’t have to teach every little skill. By the way, I like that Ruth used honey on Steve’s wound.
I don’t have a hard time with Tom having cash on hand to pay his employees. People in his line of work often have a safe at the office or at home with cash. I worked for a guy who was a contractor in a big city and people sometimes paid him a lot of money in cash because they were doing things on the down low. And some customers just like to use cash. Tom may have even seen a crisis coming down the road and took money out of the bank the day before, or the year before. Everyone seems to be more aware than Steve and Jenny.
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Post by motherhen on Mar 24, 2016 21:15:01 GMT -6
I just finished his story and I enjoyed it so much! Thank you for your time and imagination. As for it being too detailed, that is one of the things that I enjoyed about it the most. I have never butchere'd anything, so the details helped enormously for me to "see" how to do so properly. I do have a garden and chickens and am slowly building my knowledge base during my time here. Thank you for the education provided in this story, I learned a lot. And if you ever feel the need to continue the story--maybe a story line about the 14 year old, hint, hint :-)--I would definitely enjoy it!
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Post by willc453 on Aug 4, 2016 15:34:43 GMT -6
Put this under one of my favorites story file to read. Started yesterday and FINALLY finished it today. Didn't realize that it had been so long since first reading a few of the chapters and got a shock when I saw a posting of mine here. With this story taking a 5 year period, surprised Steve never got his head out of his a$$ and wake up to the reality of this new world, especially having failed to protect/provide for his wife in the beginning of the story. No doubt that he would of tried skating in not doing a lot of the hard, manual work and thought the folks at the farm would of finally had enough and had a talk with him about this. Him going back to his old ways? Another shocker and glad to read Jenny had enough. Steve/others are sheeple/ostriches in thinking once things get more or less back to normal, it'll never happen again. And of course, the govt. will be there to protect/provide for 'em.
I'm thinking there would be a massive amount of people killed/dying during the first 6-12 months of this story. Then after 5 years, things are starting to return such as electricity, etc. but don't think the majority of survivors would return to Steve's way of living/thinking. You know, fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me and become preppers and not only staying in touch with the people they lived with, but contribute what they can so if it happens again.... And bet it hurt Jenny to leave her garden behind, though maybe some from the farm went back to get what they could. Bet that went over real well with Steve.
Thanks again for a good story.
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