Wilson Harp - EMP

“I never understood why you needed these books,” he said. “But then, I wasn’t much of a reader myself.”

“What do you think?” I asked.

“Pretty interesting, once you get over the fact he isn’t writing about things in our world.”

“Hobbits and elves and stuff?”

“That, but I was referring more to the ideas of honor and chivalry and duty,” Dad said. “This Tolkien guy really missed the world that had left him behind.”

“That’s true, he really did,” I said as I poured a cup of water from the drinking pitcher.

“How is your stomach doing this morning?”

“Not bad,” I said. “I woke up with some heartburn a couple of times.”

“The sugar in the fruit cocktail,” Dad said. “Didn’t think about how much we had been away from that kind of food.”

“I didn’t realize how much I missed it. I would have thought after a while, it wouldn’t have tasted as good as it did.”

Dad turned a page in the book. “Food companies spent millions and billions of dollars on making us like their product so we would keep buying it.”

“True. I do miss Oreos.”

Dad smiled. “Everyone will dream of cookies.”

“Until cookies are just a distant memory.”

“I suppose so.”

“Are you going into town today?”

“Probably. I want to check on the beet field first, but if it is too wet to harvest them, I plan on going into town to see if anyone brought in any old radios.”

“When you do, look for Deputy McDaniels and report our prowler. I think I saw him near the Johnson’s again last night.”

“Okay. I’ll let him know what is going on.”

I prepared for the day and left the house. I walked out to the street and looked across the soybean field toward where the beets were planted. I felt lightheaded and terrified as I saw the wheat field just beyond the beets and onions.

All of the tall, green stalks looked like they were lying on the ground. Several men were walking the edges of the area. Sometimes they spoke with each other, sometimes they bent down as if to examine the fallen plants. I glanced over at the corn field and released a deep breath. The corn was standing straight and tall in their appointed rows.

I hurried over across the soybean field. I was careful not to step on any plants and to make sure I didn’t slip and fall. When I reached the men, I could hear laughter of all things.

“David,” Luke said as I approached. “You look upset. Is everything alright?”

“I don’t know,” I said as I looked at the flattened field of wheat. “Did we just lose our wheat crop?”

Several of the men chuckled and one came over and slapped me on the shoulder. It was Nate Milton. He had the biggest vegetable garden in town before this happened and had been a farmer all of his eighty years.

“No son,” he said. His teeth looked rotten as he grinned at me. “The wheat just likes to lay down when it gets this wet. It will perk up again after a day or two in the sun.”

I smiled and looked over the field. None of the stalks seemed damaged and they all looked to be pressed down in a uniform manner.

“Good,” I said. “Good.”

“Glad you approve, David,” Luke said. “I guess I best be getting my work done for the day. And don’t feel bad, I came running across the field same as you when I saw the condition of the wheat. I thought we were going to be without bread for the whole summer.”

I smiled at Luke as he walked by me, but my eyes remained focused on the wheat. This close I could see the stalks were bent, not broken. And if Milton said they would be okay after a little sun, then that was good enough for me.

I left the wheat field and made my way over to the Marsh’s house. Millie was waiting for me with a bucket.

“Need four buckets of beets today, David,” she said. “I reckon most of the folks dug into their pantries a bit yesterday, but we have a few folks who are awfully hungry today.”

I saw there was a good sized coal pit with several big slabs of river rocks directly on the smoldering wood. There were more than a few aluminum foil packages sitting on top of the stones.

“Roasting the beets?” I asked as I picked up the bucket.

“Yep, some folks like beets in their stew, some don’t. Figured if we roasted them, then people could eat them as they like them.”

I nodded and went to the field and knelt with the small trowel Millie had placed in the bucket. The rain had muddied the field, but it wasn’t as easy to dig out the beets as I hoped it would be. The new growth of small white roots grabbed at the soaked soil.

It was probably ten o’clock by the time I filled the bucket. I wished I had carried my watch with me, but with as filthy as I had become, it was good I had developed the habit of leaving it on my desk.

I stood and carried the bucket over to Millie. She was in conference with several of the other women who had taken on the job of preparing the communal meals in their neighborhoods. They shared recipes, plans for what to serve, and trades for different foods.

Our area grew beets and onions, but not radishes or cabbage. Everybody grew wheat and corn, though. That was decided early on. The risk of a single fire or flooded field was too great to risk what would have to get us through the upcoming winter.

Millie saw me approach and made eye contact with me.

“Missus Marsh, I need to head into town. I’ll be back to get more beets in a couple of hours,” I said.

“Thank you, David,” She said. “I’ll get someone to help you today. Seems our beets are in demand.”

She smiled as she went back to her conversation.

I left the gathering of white haired women positive I never wanted to negotiate for anything serious with any of them. Especially Millie.

I headed up to Granger Street and turned toward town. As I headed north along the road, I made sure I looked down the drive of Buck Fredrickson. His house set back a ways and was screened by a row of low poplar trees.

There were a few men working around his garage as I passed. They were butchering the three deer he had taken and it looked like they were ready to tan the deer hides. I wondered if that was something some of these men knew from before, or if it was something they were practicing for the first time.

When this started, I would have guessed Ted might know how to skin a deer and tan its hide into leather, but now I’m sure he would have just read about it and would be willing to try with no hesitation. It was amazing how much he knew and yet how much there was still to know. It was also surprising the types of things other people knew how to do. Anne could tan that hide, of that I was certain. Sue Hanson knew how to set rabbit and squirrel snares. I would have never guessed she and her sisters made money back in high school by trapping foxes and selling their furs.

“Need a bath, David?” Ted said as I approached the steps of the library.

I looked down at my clothes and realized I was caked in mud.

“I guess so,” I said. “I was digging beets this morning.”

“Well don’t go tracking that in the library. What can I help you with?”

“Taking a break from the fields. Came in to see if anyone dropped off any electronics.”

Ted shook his head. “Not today, sorry.”

“Have you seen Deputy McDaniels?”

Ted looked around and shook his head. “No, he, uh…” He trotted down the last couple of steps to stand close to me. “He’s been at Lester’s more and more recently. I’m pretty sure he is sleeping there some nights. Maybe most by now.”

I was stunned. Deputy McDaniels sure didn’t like Ted and he really did not like Lester Collins. When Ted announced the deal Lester put forward, McDaniels protested in the strongest terms. He even accused Ted of setting up the deal himself and claimed Lester and Ted were working together.