Shortage (Best Laid Plans Book 2) (11 page)

Jack hesitated for a moment, looking conflicted, then shook his head. “Ah well, your Mona has been coming around with a hot plate for me every month or so for the last decade making sure I'm still kicking, so I suppose I owe you something. Better you than one of Ferris's goons anyway.”

“What?” Matt asked with a puzzled frown.

“Come on.” The old man waved for him to follow and turned to stomp away. Matt ducked under the fence's top rail and hurried to catch up. Without saying a word Jack led him a good ways onto the property not far from his house, to a modest coop with a small yard completely fenced in with chicken wire, even for a ceiling. Waving for Matt to wait outside, he disappeared into the coop and after a moment came out with a flapping and ruffled hen tucked under one arm.

Ignoring the clucking and pecking the old man shoved the fowl into a small carrying cage, also made of chicken wire, and fastened the door, then pushed it into Matt's arms. “This isn't a meal, understood? She's one of my best layers, should be good for an egg a day as long as she's fed. And chickens'll eat almost anything. Just make sure she's fed, watered, kept warm, and given a safe, quiet place to brood. I know it ain't much but it's something.”

Matt held the cage, so overcome with an unexpected surge of emotion that he was at a loss for words. Not much? Protein had already been a huge source of concern, and now that all their food storage was gone anything at all was a godsend.

An egg a day wouldn't solve all their problems, but it tipped the scales that much farther towards survival. He did his best to clear his throat as he shook his neighbor's hand. “I'll come around more often, help out around here as much as I can.”

“For the gift of a chicken?” Jack snorted, although he accepted the handshake. “I can care for myself around here, at least for now, and I'll be sure to let you know if that ever changes. Until then save your worry for your family.”

Matt nodded, and after several seconds of the awkward silence that comes after being given an appreciated gift and wanting to say or do more, only there's nothing else really to say or do, he thanked Jack again. “I should get back to picking weeds.”

“Yeah, I've got no end of things to do myself. You take care now, Matt Larson. If I don't see you before the snows fall I hope to see you after the thaw.” The old man glanced west towards the mountains. “That snow could come this evening, you never know. Looks like it's already flying up there. I sure pity any fool caught up in that.”

Matt thought of his friends up at the hideout, for the first time in a while, and felt an immediate surge of worry. Those idiots
were
caught up in that. He hoped they'd managed to sort out their situation. “It might not snow, but if those clouds keep pushing this way we might get rain or sleet. I'd better hurry and gather what I can before heading home. I'll be along the fence gathering more weeds, all right?”

“That's fine. Take care of the hen, okay? Hard to be fond of chickens but somehow I manage.”

He nodded and left Jack pottering around the coop as he hurried back across the fields to the fence. The storm approaching from the north and already pounding into the mountains from the northwest continued to get darker and fiercer, and as Matt tore up weeds and shoved them into his plastic bags the thin layer of clouds above thickened until he started to feel the occasional splatter of rain. In her cage his new hen squawked crankily.

Winds started gusting, and Matt decided the job was good enough as he broke into a trot back for town, keeping an eye out for any possible threats as he went. He didn't see anyone at all, everyone likely either driven in by the approaching storm or by the desire to avoid trouble with roaming refugees. Although when he got home Sam must have seen him approaching through the window because she hurried out onto the porch to greet him, shivering slightly at the blasts of wind.

“Where'd you get a chicken?” she asked, startled. When Matt offered the cage she was quick to accept it so she could get a closer look at the brooding hen.

“Jack Dawson, out to the southwest of town. He keeps birds and offered a layer as thanks for Mom looking out for him all these years.”

“How sweet of him.” Sam beamed down at the cage. “I don't know much about animals but she looks well cared for. We should call her Henrietta!”

For some reason that made Matt laugh in spite of the day he'd had. Although he flinched as a cold drop of rain splashed the back of his neck. “Let's get inside.”

The house was still a mess from the inspection. His parents seemed to have abandoned cleaning up to sit together on the slashed cushions on the couch. It looked as if his mom had been crying. When he and Sam entered his dad quickly stood, and although he made a big deal about Henrietta he was quick to get down to business. “I think it's time to talk about going for that cache.”

Matt frowned. “Ferris just kicked down our door, and he said himself he thinks we have more food hidden around here. He's going to come around again to look for it, or at least have us watched.”

His dad hesitated. “We can't survive on weeds, even with Jack's kind gift. If we wait too long we'll be too weak to make the journey. And now that Ferris cut Sam off from the ration line she's in the same dire straits we are. We have to go.”

It was hard to argue that, but at the same time circumstances couldn't be worse for making that kind of trip. He looked down at the pathetic few handfuls of weeds he'd gathered, anguished. “Razor's thugs are still running around outside of town. We might not even make it there.”

There was a long, tense silence. “I think we should wait,” Sam said quietly. “Things can't stay the way they are now. If Ferris is kicking down doors and cutting rations that means he's desperate. The town might not put up with him for much longer, and when his welcome wears out it might give us a better chance to safely get the cache.”

His dad looked torn. “We'll all have to start foraging for food,” he finally said. “Together in pairs, for safety. At least until we can think of something to do.”

There wasn't much more to say after that, so they had a sparse meal of weeds and sat around the table playing board games for a while, trying to ignore the rain beating down on the roof and windows and the hunger digging a hole into their bellies. But Matt knew his dad well enough to know he hadn't put the problem out of his mind, and although he did his best to stay involved in the family evening his troubled thoughts were far away.

Matt was worried as well, but he knew his dad had to be feeling the weight of responsibility even more since he was the one who'd insisted on refusing the inspections and had personally hid the food in the shed. Not to mention he still grumbled about losing his .30-06 at the roadblock when Ferris first arrived.

After a while his dad went out to the porch, and even though Matt knew he probably wanted to be alone he followed him out. He found his dad leaning against the railing, hands and arms being spattered by cold rain quickly turning to sleet.

Matt came to stand beside him, noticing that he was looking north. Towards the storm or the cache? “We'll figure it out.”

“Or die trying?” his dad said grimly. “None of us have the skills or knowledge to really fend for ourselves without trucks bringing us food. We've stripped our garden of everything, even stuff rabbits would turn up their noses to, and we're eating weeds. We don't have any livestock, we don't have guns to hunt any deer coming off the mountains to escape the cold, and if we do manage to survive this winter we don't know anything about planting crops or long term sustainability. The fact that your mother's managed to gather the heirloom seeds from the garden is something to hope for, but they won't give us a real crop like grain or corn.”

“We'll figure it out,” Matt said uncomfortably.

His dad shook his head. “Generations of farmers worked the same land, learning when to plant, when to harvest, how to irrigate and what weeds and pests to look out for, and how to tell by the weather if there was something they should worry about. The town could lose more crops than we brought in before we figured it out. If we even had the seed.”

It was hard to argue with that. But then again talking about this stuff didn't help them in the short term, which was what they really needed to worry about. “We can cross that bridge when we come to it. For now let's just focus on finding enough food to get by.”

“Our foraging has been feast and famine up til now,” his dad answered. Even in the fading light he looked old and tired. “We can't afford to have bad days when there's nothing to fall back on. And our good days? If we bring in enough to last us a few days who's to say Ferris won't come and take it?” He punched the railing. “Thanks to my stubbornness none of us are going through the ration line. At this rate we'll be the first ones in town to starve.” He abruptly turned to face Matt. “Son, we
have
to go for the cache while we still have the strength to make the trip!”

“We already talked about this,” Matt said impatiently. “It's too dangerous to just run off after it. We have to figure things out here first.” He put his hand on his dad's shoulder. “Come on, you're going to freeze out here. Things won't look so hopeless in the morning.”

His dad resisted his hand. “Go on. I'll be in soon, I just want to brood a bit.”

Matt considered insisting, but he couldn't see what good it would do other than to make his dad feel even less in control of things. So he nodded and turned for the door.

Just before he reached it his dad spoke quietly. “I'm sorry. I should've known this was coming.”

He turned. “You did. You buried our food storage.”

His dad waved, almost angrily. “Not Ferris. The attack, the nation running out of gas and no trucks coming in bringing food. I should've done more to prepare, like Lewis did. Even if I hadn't subscribed to all his doom and gloom predictions anyone could see where things were going with the price of gas shooting up and necessities getting more and more expensive. I should've prepared when I had the chance.”

Instead of replying Matt went back inside, noting how his mom and Sam gave him worried looks. He could only shake his head. His dad wasn't thinking rationally with his talk about Lewis, since for all his preparations Lewis had still ended up getting his shelter and everything else stolen by Ferris. If his dad had prepared he would've just ended up in the same boat unless they'd made their preparations somewhere else, maybe up in the mountains. That or Aspen Hill had kept FETF out from the start and stopped Ferris from taking over.

Either way there was no point dwelling on the past. What had happened had happened, and the only thing they could do now was find a way to go forward. Matt just hoped worry didn't give his dad a sleepless night since he didn't seem to want to be reassured. They'd all just have to try harder to find food tomorrow, and hope that whatever they found wasn't immediately snatched up by FETF.

And while they were at it they'd have to seriously plan out how they were going to safely get the cache and prevent it from being stolen once they got it back.

Before bed Matt and Sam sat together on the couch talking quietly, not about anything significant but mostly just to spend time together. The storm was still going strong when they kissed goodnight and she headed up to the guest bedroom while he went to his room and did his best to fall asleep.

He was woken up the next morning by his mom's frantic cries. He stumbled half awake out of bed and rushed to her room, clutching his bear spray in one hand and the baseball bat he'd taken from the would-be mugger up in Orem in the other.

Sam arrived at the same time, looking disheveled and sleepy in her pajamas, and together they burst into the master bedroom to find his mom slumped against the foot of the bed, clutching a piece of paper in her hands. “The old fool,” she said, tears streaming from her eyes.

As Sam hurried over to comfort the older woman Matt took the note and read it over. It was in his dad's handwriting, apologizing for his stubbornness in balking Ferris and getting them all banned from the ration line, as well as his failure to protect and provide for the family as he should.

He taken Matt's old wagon and gone after the cache, hoping to bring back as much as he could manage to tide them over until they could figure out a better solution.

Matt crumpled the note in his fist. He had no idea which way his dad had gone other than him often talking about trying to find back roads through the hills to the north, to not only reach the cache more directly but on a path where they'd be less likely to encounter other people. But more importantly, the note had specifically forbidden him from trying to follow, and given him the responsibility for taking care of his mom and Sam and looking out for April's family until his dad returned.

Struggling to keep his legs from shaking, he made his way over to sit next to his mom on the side opposite Sam and put his arms around them both. He didn't know what comfort he could offer, because whatever he might say he felt mostly dread.

His dad was a capable man, physically strong for his age, who'd led by example all his life, and Matt had every confidence that if it could be done he'd manage it. But at the same time it was a dangerous journey and his dad wasn't a young man, not to mention he was already weak from hunger. What if he got injured like Trev had, all alone out in the middle of nowhere? What if he ran into Razor's thugs or some other bandits?