S Ison - Russian Doomsday

Pike pulled up the long drive toward the cabin. He liked that the cabin was set back from the road. The driveway formed a double S curve, winding through the evergreens and broadleaf trees on either side, and thickets of honeysuckle and wild grapes, their vines climbing trees, their flowers peeking out, their scent filling the air.

Most of the flowers were gone now, but the thickets where high, nearly eight feet. There had been some grapes and he and Margo had eaten their fill, then left the rest for the wildlife. The dense growth made for great camouflage.

Even after living here for a while now, he felt so lucky and excited whenever he drove down the drive. This was his home, or rather, their home. He’d never in a million years dreamed that he’d be living off grid in a log cabin, or and doing the hard work that he was doing.

When he pulled up to the cabin, he grinned. Margo was sitting on the steps. He got out and walked up. He didn’t know why he did it, but he kissed her on the top of her head. She grinned up at him. Binx was asleep on his back in a sunny part of the yard. The dog simply opened one eye. Seeing Pike, he closed, resuming his nap.

“How about we go fishing? I think I’d like a good old-fashioned fish fry,” Pike asked, his tan face relaxed.

“That is a damn fine idea,” Margo announced, and got up.

Going into the cabin, they changed from their work clothes and headed to the barn, where they kept their rods and tackle box. Pike had taught Margo how to fish. She’d been excited when she’d caught her first small bass. They’d thrown it back, but then she’d caught a nine-inch bass and they’d eaten that.

Going down to the lake’s shore, they set up two camp chairs with their tackle box between. Casting out, they sat down in their chairs to wait, their long legs stretched out in front of them.

“Have you thought about what I asked, with regard to Sayer and Joy? About having them come and live here with us?” Pike asked.

“I have thought. I really like them. I think that if things get bad, and I mean really bad, they may not have a choice but to come here.”

They’d visited the small farm. It was in a good location, but very close to Lincoln’s city limits. There was also a large subdivision two miles from their farmhouse. The city was spreading out, and other farms nearby were being gobbled up by developers and urban sprawl.

“They’ve got a nice setup, I have to say,” Pike said, referring to the bunker-like structure they’d built in the basement.

“It is nice, but I worry that if someone were to burn the house, they’d be trapped,” Margo said, her brows creased.

“Yeah. Trying to figure out the best strategy for staying safe isn’t easy. There is so much open land there with all the pastures and so on. That farm is easy to see, like a big-ass target,” Pike said, frustration lacing his voice.

He felt Margo’s hand patting his arm and looked over at her. His heart flipped in his chest. He grinned, his face turning bright pink. He placed his larger hand over hers and patted it back. Then she jerked from him and he was surprised, until he saw her grab her rod tightly.

She squealed excitedly, “I got one, I got a fish!” She stood, walking toward the shore.

Pike got up and got the net as Margo began to reel the fish in. A large splash caused Margo to squeal once again. She was reeling in the fish as fast as she could, walking back and forth along the shore. As she did so.

“It’s huge! I have a monster fish, this is sooo cool,” she said, hopping around the shore, her arm a piston as she reeled the fighting fish in.

Pike waded in, and as the fish came in, he dipped the net beneath it and pulled it up. It was a big one, at least sixteen inches, and heavy. They’d eat well.

“You’ve become one hell of a fisherwoman. That is a big-ass fish, Margo. I don’t think I’ve seen any as big as this, at least, not in a lake,” Pike grinned, his dark brows waggling.

“Wow, I can’t believe I caught that. It’s beautiful,” she said, her eyes turning a deep green.

Pike took a small mallet and struck the fish on the head, then laid it up on the bank. He went back and picked up his fishing rod and reeled his line in. He cast out once more, and watched as Margo did the same. Together they sat back down in the chairs and watched the lines expectantly. A loon called from far away, its song echoing along the lake’s rippling water.

“I almost want to say that we should have them start moving their supplies here,” Margo said, picking up their earlier conversation. “Then, if anything happens, they can come here immediately. Do you think they’d do it?”

“I can talk to Sayer. Maybe we should also each have a bugout bag, to make sure can we get home fast and safe. I don’t know where I’d be, especially if I’m showing houses. You at least know you’d only be a few miles from here and could get here quickly enough.

“I’d say we’d have maybe a few hours before things started getting rowdy. We’re the ones who’re preparing, and will be hyper-aware of anything that goes sideways. Others probably won’t know what’s happening at first. It’ll be a small window of opportunity to get back here safely,” Pike said, reeling his line back and recasting.

“Joy has the old Ford that is pre-1978. It should run if there is an EMP. I’m sure they could make their way here; it’s only a two-hour drive.

“That’s only if they don’t encounter trouble on the way. There will be a lot of cars that will have stalled out. And what if their truck doesn’t work?” Margo nibbled at her lower lip. Pike had a hard time keeping his eyes from her mouth.

“When they come over Saturday for the BBQ, let’s talk to them and see what they say,” Margo said, reeling in. She cast out again, copying Pike. He grinned softly. She caught on fast.

Later they sat at the large table eating their fried fish. Pike thought it was some of the best fish he’d ever eaten. He liked catching his own food, and thought he’d like growing it too. They had started buying potting soil, pods, planting cups and all the things that were on sale due to it being the end of the season. They’d read a lot and gone over their plans. They wanted to plant a double garden: plant the first one and wait about three weeks, then plant more. They hoped that it would give them a higher yield so they could eat their produce and can it. They had even practiced, buying beef on sale. They’d gotten a great deal at the butcher shop for ten pounds of under-blade steak from the shoulder. They had cut the beef into cubes and put it into pint jars. Margo had then added a little canning salt and some pepper. Then they had put the jars in the pressure canner and cooked them for a little over an hour.

They planned on testing the meat in a few months. They’d seen videos and knew that the tough meat should be tender and delicious. They’d canned raw chicken the same way. They weren’t sure about hunting, as neither had ever done it. So, if they wanted meat, besides fish, they’d have to can their own until they got proficient at hunting.

Pike would talk to Sayer about it when they came to visit.

Burgers and hotdogs were on the grill and the air was filled with delicious notes of beef, grilled corn on the cob, potatoes wedges and broccoli trees. Joy and Margo were setting up a table outside with plates, drinks, and condiments. A cheerful red checkered tablecloth fluttering in the cool afternoon breeze. Binx had stationed himself by the grill in hopes of an accidental drop.

Once the food was ready, everyone sat around the table. It was sunny and warm with just the hint of chill in the air. It was quiet but for the susurrus of the wind in the trees, the soft clucking of the chickens and the distant hammering of a redheaded woodpecker that reverberated through the forest. Beneath that was the hypnotic buzzing of the cicadas.