The Journal: Cracked Earth (13 page)

The temperatures are rising a bit, yet the
sky is still heavy. It’s hard to tell if it’s going to rain or
snow. It would be better if it snowed. Even though there’s still
some on the ground, we need more. I recall one year when we didn’t
get the blanket of snow early enough in the season, but it was
bitter cold. Without that snow to insulate the ground, the frost
line went six feet deep and all of the water and sewer lines in
town broke. It was a mess. I need to run the generator in the
morning and pump some water to keep my water lines moving. It might
be a good time to do a load of laundry too.

* * *

JOURNAL ENTRY: December 1

This morning when I got up, I noticed that
I’m sleeping better. I still wake easily, as I always have been
ultra-sensitive to sounds, but now all the sounds are from nature.
There’s no traffic on the main road, there’s no refrigerator
cycling and there’s no hum to the clock. I’m wondering if it is the
absence of electricity, that constant hum and discharge of power.
Either way, I’m sleeping through the night now.

* * *

I took my usual seat in the back of the
church. It was time to take the pulse of the community again. Most
of the service was devoted to two memorials, residents who had both
died yesterday. Since there is no funeral home and we have no
access to a coroner now, the attending EMS issued death the
certificates.

Beatrice was ninety-two, so her death was not
a surprise. She ran out of her heart meds and refused to be taken
into the city, saying that she had lived a long life and didn’t
want to take food away from a younger person. She also wanted to
die in the home she had lived in for over seventy years, shared
with her now-deceased husband, and raised her children in. This she
did, surrounded by friends and family.

Leon was our local quadriplegic. He dove into
the lake when he was seventeen and broke his neck on a submerged
boulder. He would often be seen tooling around our small town in
his motorized wheelchair, almost every day, even during the winter.
The chair also kept some of his body functioning. Without power,
his batteries couldn’t be recharged. He was fifty-two when he
passed. He lived longer than the doctors expected him to. His
mother had been his caregiver; she’d passed five years ago. Many of
the neighbors looked in on him regularly, and one of them
discovered that he was laboring for breath. Fortunately a land line
was available there and they called the EMS, but he was already
gone by the time they arrived.

Following the service we had lunch in the
church basement: venison soup on rice. I smiled, knowing that Lenny
and I had jointly provided today’s meal. I saw that of the fifty
people there, most had brought their own bowl and spoon. That
would
save on the soup kitchen having to clean up. Those of
us who did not bring a bowl were offered one while in line.

I looked at those around me. Hazel, in her
eighties now, was pitching in. She could always be counted on to
volunteer at the Catholic church across the street. It was good to
see her crossing the ecumenical lines when it came to the needs of
the town. I suppose that’s not a big surprise, since the two
churches have coordinated events for years. Because of the limited
parking, they stagger services, and because of limited population
draw, they set their rummage sale fundraisers for the same day and
time. It has me thinking I should put in some volunteer time
too.

Though the soup was tasty, it was lacking
something. I pulled my ever present notebook out of my vest pocket
and jotted down a note to bring salt for the soup. I could spare a
pound or two. I was listening to the conversations around me, which
seemed upbeat for the most part, when three people approached me
for gas vouchers. Once I had made that offer at the town meeting, I
carried a half dozen with me at all times. At home, I had used the
computer word processor while the gennie was running and made up
some simple vouchers. They all said the same, five gallons, so no
one could change the amount. On neon green paper, I imprinted each
one with my raised notary seal, and left it unsigned. I signed one
and handed it over, making a note of who it was, and wished them
well.

When I saw the township handyman at another
table, I excused myself to talk to him.

“Pete, this may seem insensitive at the
moment, but can you still dig graves?” I asked. The town has their
own cemetery and that’s one of Pete’s many jobs.

“I’ve already done that, early this morning,”
he replied. “Burial will be this afternoon.”

I knew that Beatrice had been like a second
mother to him and Leon lived across the street, so it must have
been painful.

“Thank you for attending to that so quickly.
You do realize there will be more deaths this winter, don’t you?”
He nodded, looking sad. “Stick with early in the morning so no one
sees you, dig a few more graves, maybe six, and cover them with
tarps. It won’t be long when the ground will be too frozen to
dig.”

“You really think we’re going to lose six
more?”

“I hope not. I think we should be prepared in
case we do, don’t you?” Pete nodded again and walked away. It was
time for me to go, so I snuck out the back door to my car.

* * *

JOURNAL ENTRY: December 2

This evening I went across the road to my
brother’s house. Today is Nancy’s seventy-second birthday. I took
her a bottle of her favorite white wine that I bought months ago
just for this occasion.

I canned a total of fourteen quarts of
venison soup, which means two more weeks of survival. This soup has
extra protein, an essential survival tool.

* * *

After the canner cooled down, I went into
town again to see Jason. I’m not sure why I had the urgency, but I
do miss the regular contact with him. I brought him some venison
stew, a few boxes of pasta and a case of noodles. He’s lost a
noticeable amount of weight. I think he is giving up his food for
Jacob, which I can understand. Amanda wasn’t around and Jason
wouldn’t say why, and he was grateful for the extra food.

I stopped at the post office to check for
messages and I was surprised to see that I actually had mail. It
was my winter tax bill. I laughed out loud, and then headed to the
township hall to bring this up with Anna. She agreed that we should
suspend the property taxes until the banks reopen.

I visited the Stone Soup Kitchen to see if
there was anything that I could help with. I was pleased to see the
twins there, Jean and Joan Heckla. Now in their mid-60’s, they have
never been apart. I stayed for an hour and chopped vegetables and
listened to the chatter. The speculation was Pastor Carolyn had
gotten someone in the congregation to donate a large bucket of
rice. They talked about how blessed they were and thankfully nobody
knew who the donor was.

The weather was strangely mild today. It got
up to fifty-two degrees, and very windy. All of the snow from
earlier is now gone, and the roads are muddy.

* * *

JOURNAL ENTRY: December 4

What a difference in the weather from
yesterday. I had to get up during the night to close my window.
This morning it started out at thirty-eight degrees and has been
dropping steadily. The skies are dark and heavy and the wind is
biting cold. I think we’re in for more snow. Since I can’t get
weather off of the internet anymore, I put a flag on a long stick
and fastened it to one corner post in the garden so at least I can
see which direction the wind is coming from. Right now it’s coming
out of the north, which will bring snow off the Big Lake. A slight
shift to the east will keep it here longer and produce lake effect
snow, which is very common this time of year.

Lake effect occurs when the water is still
relatively warm and the winds are cold. When the two clash, it
creates massive amounts of snow.

Some days are plain boring. Today is one of
them. I brought in a couple of days of wood and refilled the
kindling bin. My drinking water is getting low, but I won’t be
making the trek down to the well by myself anymore. I set up my
Berkey water filtration system and started up the generator. I
filled only one of the five gallon jugs. Five gallons will last me
a couple of days and will give me time to take the other containers
into town to fill at the township hall. With fewer people in town
now, the water tower supplies nearly a week of the town’s needs.
Pete has been running the township generator four hours every other
day, so at least adequate water is not an issue.

Cold this morning! It’s only twenty-five
degrees and a light dusting of snow. I was happy to see so little
snow, as I had plans for the day. We aren’t directly affected by
the earthquakes down south, yet we are still feeling the backlash.
The town has come together to support each other, though there are
still problems,
lots
of problems, and many of those are
beyond my scope and training to do anything about.

I’m very worried about the guys on Eagle
Beach. I haven’t heard from John since the cellphones went down and
I promised not to come for his massages until he can pay me. Though
I don’t give a tinker’s-damn about the money, a promise is a
promise. Maybe I can casually stop in for a visit with Steve.

* * *

Before I headed to town today, I took the two
buckets I set aside, and emptied the mixed beans. Since I left them
in their individual bags, I lined them up on the floor so I could
see the variety: kidney, pinto, Lima, northern and split peas. Then
I poured half the rice into that bucket. I got four half pint
canning jars from the other shed, and filled two with soy sauce and
two with Worcestershire sauce from my gallon jugs. I nestled one of
each jar down into the rice, and divided the beans up equally,
filling the rice buckets. I put them both in the back of the car
and tossed a towel over them. I got two dozen eggs from the cold
pantry and set them on the car floor next to my purse, along with a
dozen cans of tuna fish for Jason. Then I loaded up my water
containers and went to the township hall.

I had to stop at Fram’s first to get some
gas, I was getting pretty low. I signed for my weekly five gallons,
and then parked across the street at the township hall. I shoved
the covered buckets over to one side to make room for the water
containers. After I filled them, Pete helped me load them into the
car. He never even looked at the buckets. I used the town’s
landline phone to call Kathy on
her
landline so she knew I’d
be stopping by. Living in the basement like they’re doing, they’d
never hear me knock and I really had to get some food to them. Our
cell phones might not be working because of the lack of power, but
these regular phones have been a godsend.

Bob was waiting for me with the garage open
so I could use the interior back door, right next to the stairs
going down. I handed him a bucket and followed him down.

“What’s this?” he asked when I handed Kathy a
dozen eggs.

“A gift for my best friends,” I said, taking
the bucket opener out of my pocket to pop the lid and expose the
food. Bob didn’t say anything but he reached out and gave me a long
hug. It made me think of how I miss John’s hugs.

“I know you’ve got plenty of water, and you
can heat it on the grill. I don’t know how often you’ve cooked
dried beans…” I did know, and that was never, “…so I’d suggest
putting some beans in a pot, cover them with boiling water and let
them soak overnight, then cook them. Meanwhile, you can at least
have rice with some eggs. Don’t worry about the fresh eggs, the
girls will keep laying them so I have spares. I’ll bring more when
I can.”

Kathy came from under the blanket that she
had wrapped around herself. She was wearing a turtleneck shirt,
sweatshirt and sweat pants, with big pink fuzzy slippers that
looked really warm.

“You were so right about stocking up. I
should have listened to you.” I could see how thin her face was
getting, “Thank you for not saying ‘I told you so’.”

I thought that her biggest thank you would be
staying alive. “Say thank you by not telling
a soul
where
you got the food. I don’t need anyone breaking my door down. I’d
hate to have to shoot somebody,” I laughed.

“I know Christmas is still twenty days away,
but can we come over?” Her lip quivered.

Bob put his arm around her and said to me,
“James and Olivia both passed away a couple of days ago. They had
no heat or food in the house.”

Kathy’s parents!

“Oh, Kath, I’m so sorry. Of course, please
come over for Christmas. I have one ham left so we’ll have a nice
dinner. Come early, stay late,” I offered, using one of Kathy’s
favorite phrases. I was getting good at keeping up my cheery front.
Inside I was sobbing, I really liked Kathy’s parents. I would mourn
them later.

* * *

I drove over to Jason’s next. The roads were
good for the most part. When I pulled into their driveway, I saw
that Amanda’s car was still gone.

Jason met me at the door. “Oh, hi, Mom. When
I heard the car I thought it might be Amanda.” I didn’t have to see
his face to know he was disappointed that it was only me.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” I
asked. He handed me an envelope. I set it aside. “She went into the
city, didn’t she?” I asked. He nodded and cried.

At that point, I picked up the envelope and
opened it. In Amanda’s neat scrawl, it read:

Jason, please keep one thing in mind as your
read this: I love you with all my heart. I love Jacob with all my
heart. But I also love my friends, and they need me more than you
do right now. I’m taking the extra gas and going into Marquette to
see them. I know that if I had waited until you were awake, you
would have stopped me, and I have to do this. I have to be my own
person and make my own decisions.