Joshua Gayou - Commune - The Complete Series - A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Box Set (Books 1-4)

As I had suspected; everyone may have agreed to let him back in, but it was on a probationary basis at best. Fred had some hard work ahead of him before he came close to enjoying anything like unconditional trust.

Holding his own beer, Jake continued his speech. “This proves my point. We’re different, but we pull together. We have disagreements, and yet we put them aside. This is the reason we’re going to survive. It won’t be the guns or the food we find or the shelters we build or even the new things we learn. It all starts with a basic ability to see the kind of world we want to have and then create it. This world of ours has been reset back to zero…” he trailed off and looked down at his own beer, which he spun idly in his hands. He cleared his throat, “Erm, back to zero. Whatever happened before now… it just doesn’t matter anymore. However things used to be done, whatever responsibilities we used to have. Whomever you may have… have wronged once upon a time. It’s over now. Gone. All that matters now is what this world could be. It can and will be whatever we decide to make it.”

He held his beer out to the crowd. We all responded by hoisting our drinks up into the air, aimed back in Jake’s direction. “It’s whatever we decide it is,” he said and drank.

There were disjointed calls of agreement from the group, ranging from “hear, hear” to “hell yes,” and everyone took a drink; even the children, who had their own sodas or waters.

“There’s plenty of food and drink,” Jake said, gesturing out to both the table and the cooler. “Some of you may have concerns about the extravagance of the food I’ve put out, but I’m here to tell you we have a plan we’re working on; have been working on for the last couple of days.”

People looked at Jake inquisitively, their attention fully paid to the shaggy, hulking caveman as he stood up on the trailer. “You see, this get together doubles as a going away party of sorts. Gibs and I have been doing some planning—there are places out there, places some of us have been to, that I believe have the things we need. I’m talking about food, medical supplies, ammunition… all of the things we’re short on. It’s a long drive, stretching from here down to Vegas, but we can make it quickly. Gibs and I did some math, and we figure the trip can be done in the Ford without any stops to refuel. It has the hundred-gallon reserve tank in the bed, for one thing. That plus another fifty-five-gallon drum of diesel will cover way more than is needed to do the whole trip. I’ve asked Gibs to select a team to go with him; the purpose being both to watch each other’s backs but also so that they can drive around the clock all the way through. With a little luck, they can be back to us within a few short days.”

People in the crowd started to mutter, and I saw uncertain glances being traded back and forth. Heads came close together as people whispered among each other.

“You folks are doing a lot of chattering out there,” I said. “If anyone has a problem, now is the time to sound off.”

Edgar stepped forward from the group to answer. “It’s just that some of us are a little confused, Jake. Or, maybe concerned is the right word. Yes: concerned. We’ve been scrambling to get enough food laid by for the winter. Despite the slow progress, we are actually making progress. I just don’t see how diverting four people for a long distance trip improves our situation. Those are people we could have out looking for food.”

“They will be out looking for food,” Jake insisted. “Just a little further away than we’d all like.”

“Oh, you know what I mean,” Edgar said. “You’re targeting… what? Three or four days for this trip?”

“I’d like to see no more than three.”

“Okay, three,” said Edgar. “For the distance you’re suggesting, that’s three days consisting mostly of driving. They won’t be out gathering anything for most of their time away. They’ll be playing Travel Bingo.”

I moved forward to speak up but was stopped at a subtle gesture from Jake; a slight straightening of his left index finger in my direction from a handheld immobile at his side. It was expertly done; the signal to me was loud and clear though I don’t think anyone else noticed it.

“There is a difference, here,” said Jake. “All of the local searching we’ve been doing has run according to chance. While we’ve done our best to proceed methodically, our ability to be successful is still governed by whether we stumble onto useful resources. Gibs is traveling to places which have demonstrated high yield in the past.”

“And what was our last known status of any of those locations?” Edgar asked.

Jake was silent a moment before answering. It was only a momentary beat, but it was noticed. “I’d guess three to four months ago, is that right Otis? Was that when you went through?”

“I couldn’t call it for certain,” said Otis. “Tend to lose track of dates these days. But… oh, sure, call it that.”

“How’d the tent city look when you passed through?”

“Relatively good shape,” Otis said. “Some things was fallin’ apart, as you’d expect, but there was still plenty to be had. Least, they was, anyway. Packed up as much as we could carry and didn’t even scratch the top.”

Jake looked expectantly at Edgar, who only shrugged and said, “A lot can happen in four months, Jake.”

“Indeed. A lot can happen in only three days, as well.”

“Yes, but you can’t say what will happen,” Edgar shot back. I winced, wondering how Jake would respond. Looking around at the faces in the room, I saw a lot of people on the fence. I contemplated what might happen if people just outright said “No” to the plan. Would Jake override them? What would happen if he did? Would that signal the beginning of the first cracks leading to the eventual breakdown?

In response, Jake slumped, took a deep breath, and let it out. He walked to the edge of the trailer, where he hopped off the side, and then returned to the front of it to sit on the wheel fender. He looked smaller in that position. Deflated.

He took a swig from his bottle and said, “No, I can’t. But bear with me a moment, please, while I share some thoughts. When you all came here, we determined there was enough food to last us all for about a month and a half, remember? Well, we’re now breaking onto the edge of winter; we can expect the snows to start any time this month. We’ve all been out every day, gathering as much food and supplies as we possibly can. Would any of you say you haven’t been pushing to the fullest extent possible to get us prepared for what’s coming?”

Several heads shook emphatically, with a few spoken negatives to go along.

“Right. We’ve all been busting our tails. And how far has it gotten us? We’ve made progress, certainly, but we only have enough right now to get us halfway into December.” He lifted up the hand holding his beer bottle, index and middle fingers extended and pointed at Edgar. “And no one is more aware of that than you, Edgar. You’ve been keeping a tally of the total stockpiled calories every day, so you should know exactly where we’re at. Am I wrong?”

Heaving a sigh, Edgar said, “No. That’s correct.”

“Thank you. And may I assume that you’ve also projected how much more we’re likely to get before the snows hit and we’re stuck up here for the season, given our performance thus far?”

To his credit, Edgar met Jake’s gaze solidly as he nodded. “I have. It isn’t good.”

“Not good,” Jake agreed and took a drink. Everyone in the room was deathly quiet. The happy atmosphere from only a few moments ago was completely extinguished by this point.