Will to Survive (15 page)

Once we were past our neighborhood, the houses started to fall away and now to my right as far as I could see were open fields punctuated by the occasional farmhouse and patch of forest. I wondered if any of the farms were still occupied, if there were tents pitched among the trees.

It was crazy. Here was land that could be used to feed everybody but instead it lay fallow. Because no one could plant and protect it, it was left useless. If only people could have come together instead of fighting, these fields would have produced plenty of food. Now there was hunger and starvation, and worse still to come when winter arrived. I brought us in lower across the fields. There was nothing and nobody to fear out here. We'd be coming in at the house so low and fast that even if there were any people there, they wouldn't have time to react, so there was no danger of them taking a shot at us with any accuracy.

“Those trees mark the eastern edge of our property,” Lori called out.

I'd leveled out at no more than thirty feet above the tip of the tallest tree.

“As soon as we clear them we'll be able to see my house—” She broke off with a gasp.

I could see that the roof of the house was gone and as we got closer there were telltale remnants of the fire that had consumed it. The walls still stood, but there was nothing else. The barn was completely burned down, the drive shed and garage flattened. I banked sharply to the right so that the remains of the farmhouse were hidden and instead only blue sky could be seen out of the windows on Lori's side of the plane.

“I'm so sorry,” Herb said.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” she said in a whisper. “If we'd stayed, that would have been us … me and my family.” Then she said to me, “Wait, go back. You have to go back. Did you see it?”

“See what?” I asked.

“Go back. I don't want to say anything until I see it again.”

I looked over at Herb and he nodded. I executed a fairly tight bank turn and brought the farmhouse back into view.

“Not my house,” Lori said. “The field, the one between the two rows of trees. And can you bring us down lower so I can tell for sure?”

I made the adjustments and also eased off the throttle. Whatever she wanted to see, I wanted to give her plenty of time to see it. We cleared the trees and instantly I knew what she had spotted.

“The field has been planted!” Lori exclaimed. “Those are potatoes, the whole field is full of potatoes!”

“I hate potatoes but that is awesome news!” Todd said.

He and Lori and even Herb began to cheer and I got so caught up that I almost skimmed the treetops on the other side of the field before I pulled up.

“How is that even possible?” I wondered.

“The people who were here must have planted the field,” Todd guessed. “And then they didn't have a chance to harvest it before they were overrun.”

“So what now?” Lori asked.

“We go and dig up some potatoes,” Herb said.

 

14

The next day we left the neighborhood just as the sun was coming up. Dawn was always the safest time. There was light to see, but most people were still asleep. There were over two hundred of us, led by Lori's father and Herb. Our convoy was made up of dozens of vehicles ranging from go-carts and motocross bikes to our two biggest trucks—one of them pulling one of the Petersons' farm wagons—and seven cars, including mine.

We had to have enough transport not just to move people there but to bring the crop back, and we needed a strong show of force to make sure nobody thought they should take us on. We also had to leave enough force behind to continue to guard the neighborhood, so we'd brought along some friends: members of the little neighborhood to the south and some of our new tower neighbors to the west. There was safety in numbers, and those people really needed the food. Mr. Peterson had estimated how many potatoes would be in that field, and he figured there were more than enough for our needs, as well as some to offer to both of these satellite communities.

As we set out, I looked up to see the Cessna, with my father at the controls, circling the area. Usually I was the eye in the sky, but now he was the one offering protection. It was also reassuring to be driving with Lori right beside me. Several other passengers were crushed in together as if we were in a clown car, but there was no laughter. Everyone was quiet. Lori turned to smile at me—she seemed fine, but I worried her calm would crumble as we neared the remains of her house. Flying over it had been hard enough. Seeing it in person on the ground was going to be worse.

The drive out was completely uneventful. Any onlookers who had seen us coming had probably scattered at our approach. I had an anxious moment when we passed through the remains of another neighborhood's checkpoint on Burnham—the place where Herb and I had once been held at gunpoint—but it was deserted.

Driving down the bumpy track toward the farm brought me back to that first day our world had slammed to a halt—I remembered driving Lori home from school when it seemed like my old car was about the only thing that still worked.

We came to a stop behind the other vehicles in front of the house. The windows were broken, the front door smashed, the roof collapsed, and much of what remained blackened from fire.

Lori let out a deep sigh.

“You okay?”

“As okay as I can be. Let's go.”

We climbed out, and Lori went to where her mother and father were standing in shock, looking at the house. Her father threw his arms around both of them.

Howie walked toward them. “It's clear if you want to go inside,” he said.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Peterson said. Together they walked in through the empty doorway.

What now? I joined Herb, who was already giving out orders to the guards: half were staying here, guarding the lane and vehicles, and half were going out to the fields to watch over the harvesters. There was no time to waste as our neighbors headed off with shovels and hoes and picks on their shoulders.

“Do you mind if I wait here for Lori?” I asked Herb.

“I think she would appreciate that. Please have Mr. Peterson join us when he's able.”

As I waited I wandered toward the remains of the barn, now just one big jumbled pile. Boards had probably been taken for firewood or to build shelter elsewhere. I turned as Mr. and Mrs. Peterson came out of the house and went over to speak with Herb, and then the three of them headed for the fields. Lori was still inside and alone.

I walked over to the house and looked in through the doorway at the burned and broken furniture. Dirt, blown in by the wind, covered the floor so thickly that weeds were actually growing in a couple of spots. I took a few steps inside. I listened. Nothing.

“Anybody home?” I tentatively called out. There was no answer, but Lori couldn't have gone far. I walked along the hall toward the kitchen. I felt like I was intruding. There was no door or windows, and hardly a roof covering the second story, but it was still their house.

In the kitchen were a charred table and chairs, and scattered pieces of broken dishes littered the floor. I bent down and picked up the biggest piece I could find. It was a pattern with reddish flowers. I knew “good” dishes when I saw them. I wondered how old they were, how many generations they went back, and how many family meals had been shared on these plates. I returned it to the ground, wondering why I was being so careful when it was clearly already broken, and went back to the hall and up the stairs. Cascading down the stairwell was light from the gashes in the roof. With each step the light got brighter. There was more of the roof missing than still remained. Exposed to the elements, the wallpaper had all peeled away, the old wooden floors were warped and buckled, and the walls were water-stained. The floor creaked and heaved under my feet.

I looked into bedrooms as I passed. At one, the door was hanging loose from the top hinge. Tentatively I peeked inside and saw her. She was sitting on the floor, surrounded by remnants of her furniture and piles of torn clothing.

Lori looked up just as I was about to knock and gestured for me to come over. I slumped down on the floor beside her. She leaned against me.

“This isn't proper,” she said. “My parents would never let me invite a boy up to my room.”

I couldn't help but laugh. “This isn't the way I pictured your room.”

“I had some help decorating it. It's what they call open concept … really open.” She closed her eyes a moment.

“I'm sorry.”

“I shouldn't have come up here. Before, even from the sky when I saw the roof was ripped open, in my mind my room was still the same,” she said. “Everything's gone, everything's ruined.”

“Not everything. You got to take some things with you when you left.”

“Some. And other things we put down in the root cellar in the barn.” She looked up at me. “Do you think…” She let the sentence trail off.

“There's only one way to know for sure.”

I stood up and pulled Lori to her feet. Hand in hand, we went down the stairs, out the front door, and over to the remains of the barn. Lori led me to a spot that was buried beneath a mountain of beams and boards and rubble.

“I guess we really can't check,” I said. “Sorry.”

“Don't be sorry. Be helpful.” She grabbed a board and pulled it free. “That's one down, a few others to go.” She tossed it to the side.

I came over. “It'll take too long. We better go and help with the potatoes.”

“There are lots of people here to dig potatoes.”

“What exactly did you store in there?” I asked.

“I'm not completely sure. My father was doing it as we were rushing to pack before we left for the neighborhood. He took some of our things from the house, but I think it was mainly farm equipment.”

“Like tools?”

“Things he thought we'd need when we came back.”

She turned to pull another board, then dropped it. “Maybe this is too much—we'll never be able to clear it away by ourselves.”

I grinned. “Maybe not the two of us. Let's go talk to Howie.”

*   *   *

It was amazing what six people and a truck could accomplish. Howie, with Herb's agreement, had assigned four of the guards. They rotated in and out two at a time in thirty-minute cycles. For the most part they were happier to be doing something than just standing around watching and waiting.

Now a thick rope was tied to the trailer hitch on the truck. The other end was already looped around a large section of the barn's roof. The driver started off slowly until the rope went taut and the truck came to a stop. Then he gave it more gas and the truck crawled forward in low gear until the section broke free, other pieces noisily collapsing around it as it was dragged away. With the section removed, we went back in with the chainsaws and sledgehammers and began breaking up the next piece to be dragged away.

After an hour or so, Herb came in from the fields and stood by the pile of debris that had been removed. He waved Lori and me over.

“Looks like you're making some progress,” he said.

“Not bad,” Lori said. “How are things in the field?”

“Better than expected. There are so many potatoes we might not even be able to harvest them all today.”

“Should we be working out there instead?” I asked.

“No point. We'll have a hard time transporting what we do get. We might have to come back tomorrow anyway,” Herb said. He looked up at the sky, where the late-afternoon sun was already starting to sink toward the horizon.

“That's good, right?” Lori asked.

“That's better than good. What we've got here will provide for all three communities. In fact, we might have enough that we can afford to trade away some food for other supplies,” Herb said. “And that's because of you.” He pointed at Lori.

“Me?”

“You saw the field. You were upset about your house, but you didn't lose sight of what was important. Remember what I said in the airplane about how we need young heads and eyes? Well, this is a better example than anything I could have imagined.”

Lori's dirty, sweat-covered face blushed. It made her even more beautiful.

“Your father said there are a lot of things down there in that cellar that we can definitely use,” Herb continued.

“Assuming they're still down there,” I said.

“We can't afford not to investigate. If all we lose is a little sweat and effort, it's a minor price to pay, even if it doesn't pan out.”

“I know there are more than just personal things,” Lori said.

“A great deal more. Your father said there was additional seed, some extra equipment for the tractor, and extra tools. Don't worry that this is just about getting your family dishes.”

She
was
worrying—and in typical Herb fashion, he was able to read the situation and make her feel better.

Overhead, the Cessna was making another pass to the north. Just as it flew by, Herb's walkie-talkie crackled to life. It was my father.

“Herb, Howie, possible situation. I've spotted a small party moving through the woods at the north end of the westernmost field.”

Herb grabbed the radio and pressed the transmit button. “How many do you see?”

“I picked out at least six … Could be more lost in the trees … I saw weapons.”

“Copy that.” It was Howie. “I'm leaving sentries here, but I'll send three squads to establish a perimeter and contain.”

“Roger that, Howie,” Herb noted. “I'll take some of the guards from here and meet them head on. Let's try talking first.”

“Roger. We're on the way.”

Herb quickly gathered up the men who'd been helping us clear the barn.

“Do you want me to come?” I asked.

“You stay here with Lori and keep working.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.