James Rawles - Survivors - A Novel of the Coming Collapse

Wholesale payments to the San Juan Generating Station from the power utilities-averaging 2.5 cents per kilowatt/hour-had already become a joke, so the grid collapse was actually a relief to the plant management. With inflation raging, the break-even point for the plant would have been somewhere north of fifty cents per kilowatt/hour in the inflated dollars.

The adjoining coal mine, wholly owned by the Navajo Nation, stayed in operation for just two days after the San Juan Generating Station went offline. This production filled their staging area to capacity: 178,000 tons in open-air piles. It was decided that this coal would be designated a “tribal asset” and that it would be made freely available to “any registered Navajo Nation member, or anyone else who spoke fluent Navajo.” All others had to pay cash. The rate was eventually settled at twenty cents in silver for a pickup load or one dollar in silver for a fifteen-yard dump truck load. Although the coal was inferior to hard anthracite, it sufficed for home heating.

Despite the collapse of the larger power grids, the lights stayed on almost continuously in the Farmington-Bloomfield region because the FEUS had its own generating capacity.

When Lars, Liz, and Kaylee gathered for breakfast one morning in November, they decided to put their preparation in high gear. On three legal pads, they created three priority lists, titled “Urgent,” “Important,” and “Tertiary.”

The “Urgent” list had just four items:

• Alps Prosthetic Skin Lotion (or maybe a safe oilfield goop silicone equivalent that will work with chafing for prosthetic arm?)

• Detailed topo maps—preferably 7?-minute or 15-minute scale; need our local map sheet and the eight contiguous sheets

• Gas lamp mantles—need 20+

• Contact lens saline solution and spare glasses for Kaylee

The “Important” list included:

• More batteries-especially need NiMH rechargeable; prefer later low self-discharge (LSD) type

• Extra chains and spark plug for chainsaw

• Distilled water for battery bank (Can make a solar still, if need be.)

The “Tertiary” list included:

• Tampons

• A LOT MORE salt for preserving meat and attracting deer

• Playing cards

• Books

• More spices

• More kerosene-any extra would be great for barter or charity

• .22 LR ammo for bartering

• Elk hunting calls

The Laines and Kaylee Schmidt were only able to work their way through part of these lists before they ran out of cash. After that, they successfully bartered for a few items, using ammunition and pre-1965 silver coins.

Their trip to Berea Baptist Church on Sunday was memorable. Kaylee, who attended church only infrequently because of doctrinal differences, stayed at home to guard the roost. Lars, Beth, and Grace drove to church in Beth’s Saturn Vue, since it got better mileage than Lars’s Dodge Durango. They expected a light turnout. From what they had heard, the gasoline shortage had spooked many people into extreme conservation mode. Others were afraid to leave their homes unattended for fear of burglary.

As they pulled off of Blanco Road into the church parking lot, Lars chuckled and pointed to the overflow parking lot behind the church, which now had fifteen horses hitched up to a newly erected rail. Saddles were draped over a row of fifty-five- gallon drums resting on their sides, lined up in a phalanx. After they parked their car, they stepped over to the fence to look at the horses and saddles. Grace exclaimed, “Oooh, Daddy! Are we gonna get a horse?”

“Probably very soon, Anelli,” Lars replied, using her pet name, which was Finnish for “Grace.”

Beth pointed and said, “Notice that three of those are packsaddles?”

Lars replied, “That’s odd.” He made a mental note to donate some more drums, since if the trend in transportation in this new era of insanely expensive gasoline continued, the church would soon need room for more saddles. He could spare the drums, since he had a dozen that had been painted white for use in horseback barrel racing back in the 1970s, but they were now useless for storing fluid, since their bottoms were badly rusted.

After walking through the sanctuary to the building’s multipurpose room for their usual pre-church cup of coffee, they saw that the room was newly lined with two rows of pallet boxes on both sides, for donations. These were marked “Canned Food,” “Perishables,” “Women’s Clothing,” “Boys’ Clothing,” “Girls’ Shoes,” and so forth. As they walked by them, Beth said, “Let’s sort through some extra clothes and shoes that Grace has outgrown, to donate.” Lars nodded in agreement.

Ray, the leader of their adult Sunday school class, was there as usual, but he looked a bit self-conscious, carrying a SIG P250 in a hip holster, with four spare magazines in open-top pouches on the opposite hip. Lars said reassuringly, “I’m glad to see you’re packing. Thanks for making everyone feel safer. Even though the police department is right across the road, we can’t be too careful.” As they sat down at one of the classroom tables, Beth asked quietly, “Is there any way we can still buy handguns?”

Lars shook his head. “No way, hon. You’d have to trade a couple of new cars to get a decent pistol these days.”

During the “Prayer and Praise” time before the class began, when prayer requests were made, a black teenager who the Laines didn’t recognize stood up, and announced: “You folks don’t know me-or us. My name is Shadrach Phelps. My friends and I would appreciate your prayers. The three of us come from an orphanage over in Rio Arriba County that was closing down. We don’t have anyplace to go, and we’re looking for work around here, even for just room and board and hay for our horses. We’re all hard workers; we each got our own horses and tack. We can buck hay all day long, split wood, butcher deer, and we know which end of the shovel goes in the ground. Oh, and a-course we’re Christians. We’re trusting in God’s providence. Thing is, we all want to get hired on somewhere together; we’re tight, so we don’t wanna split up. Anyway, again, we’d appreciate your prayers.” Phelps gave an embarrassed grin as he sat down. As he did, there were murmurs throughout the classroom.

After the Sunday school class, the Laines approached the Phelps boys. They were talking with a widow that Lars recognized as the owner of a ranch near Bloomfield. Shad Phelps was gesturing, pointing to his friends. “I’m sorry, but if you can’t take all three of us, then I’ll have to say no, but thank you.” The woman nodded and turned away. Lars approached Shadrach Phelps and shook his hand. He looked Shad in the eye and pronounced, “My father always used to say, ‘If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, then go together.’ I’d like you young men to come work for me and my wife, at our ranch. I think that we’ll go far, together.”