Fight for Power (14 page)

“Congratulations on the kills,” Herb said. “When I said we needed more food, I had no idea that you'd go out and get some right away.”

“It was more of an accident than anything else. The thing practically ran me over and I shot it in self-defense.”

“Brett's been telling a different story about the one he popped,” Herb said.

No surprise there. “I guess that's assuming he was the person who shot it.”

Herb gave me a confused look. “The way he's telling it, there's no question he shot it. Do you think it was the boy he mentioned?”

“Yeah, it could be. I guess you heard the story.” I just wondered how Brett had told it and how slanted his version of the truth was.

“I did,” Herb said.

I was waiting for him to say something more—something about my promise, but he didn't.

“Let's go inside and talk to Ernie. He's just finishing butchering the second deer. Was Brett carrying his service weapon?” Herb asked.

“Yeah, and the kid had a rifle, a twenty-two.”

“Not much of a rifle. It would be hard to take a deer down with one shot from that gun,” Herb said.

“I only shot my deer once,” I said.

“And you have a bigger-caliber pistol and were practically on top of it.”

“Maybe he shot it more than once or maybe Brett shot it, too.”

“That's a possibility.”

The front door of the grocery store was guarded. We hadn't had any problems with pilfering so far, but there was no point in taking a chance. People were surviving on a lot less than they were used to. Discussions about food seemed to be a chief topic of conversation.

We passed by the guard on our way in and walked down one of the aisles. How many times had I walked down these aisles—or been in the little seat in the cart when I was a kid? I'd spent my whole life shopping here. It was the same, but different now. Not just the man with a gun out front, or the boarded-up windows, or the dimness as we walked, but things like the completely empty freezer cases and the big tables that used to hold piles of fresh fruit and vegetables. At least the regular shelves still contained canned goods and boxes and bags. They weren't full, but they were far from empty. This grocery store used to draw customers from the areas all around us, but now it was just for our little neighborhood. We'd also caught a lucky break. There were two delivery trucks—transports filled with groceries bound for other stores—that were there when it all went down. Those trucks were the only reasons so much food still remained. Being smart was necessary. Being lucky didn't hurt either.

“How long can all of this food last?” I asked.

“It depends. If people eat the way they normally do, then we'll run completely out of food in another six weeks or so.”

“That's long enough for us to harvest what we're growing,” I said.

“I'm afraid we're going to have to tighten the rationing even more,” Herb replied.

“Because of the extra people?” I asked.

“That's a contributing factor, but it was going to happen anyway.”

“People aren't going to be happy about that.”

“Better to live unhappy than not live at all. With a little luck and things like these deer, we'll get through until harvest.”

“And then we'll be okay,” I said.

“Then we'll be okay for longer, but how long is debatable. At this time we still don't know if we can produce enough food to feed this many people for a full year until the harvests come due next fall.”

“It still bothers me to think it could go on that long, for more than a year,” I said as we walked past an untouched shelf display of lightbulbs.

“‘Pray for the best, plan for the worst' is the wisest advice I can give anybody. In this case the best still might have us falling short.”

Was he softening me up, preparing me for not being able to keep my promise to Leonard? Is that what he was shaping this conversation toward?

“I'm feeling guilty about all the extra people coming into the neighborhood,” I said.

“Don't ever feel guilty for suggesting the moral thing to do. I've thought a lot about it. It would have damaged us in a whole different way to simply drive away and leave them behind.”

We pushed through a door and went into the back of the store. I was relieved to see that more food was piled on the shelves at the back. I heard the sound of sawing and wondering what they were building—until I saw that it wasn't wood. Ernie was cutting through the deer with a big hand saw. He was wearing a white apron that was smeared with so much blood it looked more red than white.

“So how's it going, Ernie?” Herb asked.

“Pretty good. Do you realize that one of these deer can form the base meat for a meal that can feed the entire neighborhood?”

“That is excellent,” Herb said.

“So right here we have two meals.”

Or a meal and a half, depending on what was decided. Herb didn't say anything, and I was afraid to ask.

“Hey, Ernie, we were wondering if you found the bullets that killed the deer,” Herb said.

“Nobody wants lead in their venison stew. Right there on the counter I dug that forty-five out of one of them.”

That could be Brett's bullet—or mine.

“It was a clean hit, right through the heart. The deer probably was dead before it knew it had been hit.”

“And the second one?” Herb asked.

“You'll find that slug in the bowl, too.”

Herb picked up a metal bowl and removed a bullet. “Twenty-two caliber.”

“So the kid did shoot it!” I exclaimed.

“Was there another bullet in it, a forty-five?” Herb asked Ernie.

“Nope, that was the only one.”

“Then Brett didn't even hit it,” I said.

“He could have,” Herb said. “It might have been a through and through, or Ernie might have even missed it—no offense.”

“None taken,” Ernie said. “It gets a little messy in there, so I could miss a bullet.”

“Even coroners doing an autopsy can miss a round. There are lots of places for a bullet to hide.”

“At least we know that the kid did hit it,” I said. “He deserves his share of the deer … right?” This was the moment of truth—what was Herb going to say?

“Not only deserves it but will get it,” Herb said. “The committee members I spoke to had no problem with your decision.”

“Doesn't this have to be decided by the whole committee?” I asked.

“Some things are better dealt with outside the committee. You made a promise, and you'll keep it.”

“Thanks. I guess that maybe I should have checked before I made that promise.”

“Again, don't feel bad for doing the right thing. There's not a lot of that going on out there. When are you going to deliver the meat?”

“He's coming tomorrow to pick it up,” I said.

“Unless he's a very strong kid, he's not going to be able to carry it all.”

“I could help him.”

“It's a nice offer, but you should never go out by yourself. You need to bring at least one other person with you, and that person should be armed, as should you. Why don't you ask Brett?”

“I'm not sure he'd be happy about helping deliver the meat. I think it would be better to bring Todd along, if that's all right.”

*   *   *

It was fine with Herb, who asked Ernie to have half of one of the deer packaged the next day so that I could take it to Leonard.

“You seem to be pretty good at this. Have you ever dressed a deer before?” Herb asked.

“Never, but it's really no different from a cow. Of course, it's been a lot of different animals that have gone into the stew pot over the past few weeks.”

I wasn't sure I wanted to know, but I had to ask. “What sort of animals are we talking about?” I asked.

Ernie and Herb exchanged a look.

“Are you sure you want to know?” Ernie asked.

I paused. “I guess so.”

“You have to keep the information quiet,” Herb said. “Some people might not understand.”

“He's right,” Ernie added. “What happens back here, stays back here. Sort of like Vegas but without the shows or gambling … and lots more blood.”

“I'll keep it to myself,” I promised.

“Have you noticed there aren't as many squirrels in the neighborhood?” Herb asked.

“I've noticed. That's not so bad. What else?”

“There's a problem with abandoned pets. Packs of wild dogs can be a problem,” Herb said. “We've had them killed both to reduce the threat and to provide food.”

“So I've eaten dog meat?”

“Dogs and cats,” Ernie said. “I've got to tell you, it didn't feel right butchering them. I'm not sure how people would feel knowing that they've been eating domestic animals.”

“Not good.” I thought of Mrs. Julian and her little Bubbles. “But we're not eating pets from the neighborhood, right?”

“I don't think people are going to give up their pets no matter how hungry they are,” Ernie said.

“You're right,” Herb said. “People would rather go without than have their pets go hungry. That's why it was so important that the scavenging teams brought back dog food. Those pets need to be fed even if nobody is going to eat them. Stray dogs are another matter.”

“Besides, in lots of countries people regularly eat dog meat, and horse meat,” Ernie said. “It's just what you get used to.”

“I don't think Lori is going to let anybody harm her horses,” I said.

“They won't,” Herb said. “Those horses are working for their keep. As are the cows producing milk and the chickens laying eggs. Using them for an ongoing supply of milk and eggs rather than a one-time supply of meat is a smarter use of these resources.” Herb paused. “You know I was stationed in countries where horse and dog were standard menu items. They didn't taste bad at all,” Herb said.

I thought about it. “Maybe it's best I don't know exactly what's in every stew. Dog, cat, or squirrel … What exactly does squirrel taste like?”

“Like rat.”

“I don't think I could ever do that,” I said.

“Have you ever been really, really thirsty?” Herb asked.

“Sure.”

“And do you remember how good the water tasted when you finally took a drink?”

“Of course.”

“When you don't have anything else to eat, well, almost anything can taste like prime rib. You do what you have to do to survive.”

“So at some point we might be eating rats?” I asked.

“I hope it doesn't come to that,” Herb said.

“But we have mixed in raccoon, opossum, and whatever else can be caught or trapped,” Ernie added.

“We're beggars, and beggars can't be choosers,” Herb said.

“I guess I should try to get another deer,” I said. “But first I better make sure Leonard gets his share of this one.”

 

13

“I appreciate the help,” Leonard said.

“It's no problem, little man,” Todd said. “It's just good to get outside the neighborhood. It was starting to feel like those fences were prison walls.”

Both Todd and Lori had volunteered to go with me to help Leonard take back his share of the deer, but I'd only brought Todd. In one way it would have been nice to have Lori along because it would have meant spending time with her, but I still felt it was better to have her stay safe and sound inside the walls. I just told her that we didn't need her help to carry the things. Still, I think she knew the real reason. She seemed a little annoyed with me, but she didn't say anything. I guess better annoyed than in danger.

“I can breathe out here. It does feel nice to be outside the walls,” Todd added.

“I wish we had walls,” Leonard said.

“Well, I guess it's a good thing,” Todd acknowledged.

The load wasn't heavy divided between the three of us. It was all packaged and bagged just like we were coming home from the grocery store—which, in fact, we were. Take away the rifles being carried by Leonard and Todd and the pistol strapped to my side, and this would have been a normal walk home. Then again, when did I ever walk through the forest with grocery bags?

It had certainly been a very different experience from my trip through the woods yesterday with a dead deer around my neck and blood dripping down my side. There was still some venison in the bags I was carrying, but it was less than a quarter deer. Leonard had agreed to take the rest in canned meat, canned vegetables, packages of pasta, and some of the chloride tablets. Venison could only go so far, and all those other things were almost impossible to get—at least outside the walls—so he was happy with that trade.

“You really don't have to go all the way,” Leonard said.

“Not much choice, little buddy,” Todd said. “How would you have gotten it all to your home without us helping?”

“I figured I was going to make a few trips. I could still do that. You could just leave it here and I could do it,” he offered.

“I don't think we want to just leave it in the forest,” I said. “Somebody else or even an animal could get it.”

“I won't be gone that long,” Leonard said. “It isn't far, really; you could just leave it.”

“If it isn't that far, then we might as well take it all the way,” Todd said.

“You've already come this far—it's okay, really,” Leonard said.

I was starting to think this wasn't really about him being polite about us helping him but had more to do with a reluctance to have us go to his home.

“Hold up,” I said, and we all stopped. “Look, Leonard, if you really want, we can just wait right here. You can take your load home and then come back and we'll stay to make sure nobody or nothing takes anything.”

“That doesn't make sense,” Todd said. “Why wouldn't we just carry it instead of waiting around?”