Nathan Jones - Shortage

After a while his dad went out to the porch, and even though Matt knew he probably wanted to be alone he followed him out. He found his dad leaning against the railing, hands and arms being spattered by cold rain quickly turning to sleet.

Matt came to stand beside him, noticing that he was looking north. Towards the storm or the cache? “We’ll figure it out.”

“Or die trying?” his dad said grimly. “None of us have the skills or knowledge to really fend for ourselves without trucks bringing us food. We’ve stripped our garden of everything, even stuff rabbits would turn up their noses to, and we’re eating weeds. We don’t have any livestock, we don’t have guns to hunt any deer coming off the mountains to escape the cold, and if we do manage to survive this winter we don’t know anything about planting crops or long term sustainability. The fact that your mother’s managed to gather the heirloom seeds from the garden is something to hope for, but they won’t give us a real crop like grain or corn.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Matt said uncomfortably.

His dad shook his head. “Generations of farmers worked the same land, learning when to plant, when to harvest, how to irrigate and what weeds and pests to look out for, and how to tell by the weather if there was something they should worry about. The town could lose more crops than we brought in before we figured it out. If we even had the seed.”

It was hard to argue with that. But then again talking about this stuff didn’t help them in the short term, which was what they really needed to worry about. “We can cross that bridge when we come to it. For now let’s just focus on finding enough food to get by.”

“Our foraging has been feast and famine up til now,” his dad answered. Even in the fading light he looked old and tired. “We can’t afford to have bad days when there’s nothing to fall back on. And our good days? If we bring in enough to last us a few days who’s to say Ferris won’t come and take it?” He punched the railing. “Thanks to my stubbornness none of us are going through the ration line. At this rate we’ll be the first ones in town to starve.” He abruptly turned to face Matt. “Son, we have to go for the cache while we still have the strength to make the trip!”

“We already talked about this,” Matt said impatiently. “It’s too dangerous to just run off after it. We have to figure things out here first.” He put his hand on his dad’s shoulder. “Come on, you’re going to freeze out here. Things won’t look so hopeless in the morning.”

His dad resisted his hand. “Go on. I’ll be in soon, I just want to brood a bit.”

Matt considered insisting, but he couldn’t see what good it would do other than to make his dad feel even less in control of things. So he nodded and turned for the door.

Just before he reached it his dad spoke quietly. “I’m sorry. I should’ve known this was coming.”

He turned. “You did. You buried our food storage.”

His dad waved, almost angrily. “Not Ferris. The attack, the nation running out of gas and no trucks coming in bringing food. I should’ve done more to prepare, like Lewis did. Even if I hadn’t subscribed to all his doom and gloom predictions anyone could see where things were going with the price of gas shooting up and necessities getting more and more expensive. I should’ve prepared when I had the chance.”

Instead of replying Matt went back inside, noting how his mom and Sam gave him worried looks. He could only shake his head. His dad wasn’t thinking rationally with his talk about Lewis, since for all his preparations Lewis had still ended up getting his shelter and everything else stolen by Ferris. If his dad had prepared he would’ve just ended up in the same boat unless they’d made their preparations somewhere else, maybe up in the mountains. That or Aspen Hill had kept FETF out from the start and stopped Ferris from taking over.

Either way there was no point dwelling on the past. What had happened had happened, and the only thing they could do now was find a way to go forward. Matt just hoped worry didn’t give his dad a sleepless night since he didn’t seem to want to be reassured. They’d all just have to try harder to find food tomorrow, and hope that whatever they found wasn’t immediately snatched up by FETF.

And while they were at it they’d have to seriously plan out how they were going to safely get the cache and prevent it from being stolen once they got it back.

Before bed Matt and Sam sat together on the couch talking quietly, not about anything significant but mostly just to spend time together. The storm was still going strong when they kissed goodnight and she headed up to the guest bedroom while he went to his room and did his best to fall asleep.

He was woken up the next morning by his mom’s frantic cries. He stumbled half awake out of bed and rushed to her room, clutching his bear spray in one hand and the baseball bat he’d taken from the would-be mugger up in Orem in the other.

Sam arrived at the same time, looking disheveled and sleepy in her pajamas, and together they burst into the master bedroom to find his mom slumped against the foot of the bed, clutching a piece of paper in her hands. “The old fool,” she said, tears streaming from her eyes.

As Sam hurried over to comfort the older woman Matt took the note and read it over. It was in his dad’s handwriting, apologizing for his stubbornness in balking Ferris and getting them all banned from the ration line, as well as his failure to protect and provide for the family as he should.

He taken Matt’s old wagon and gone after the cache, hoping to bring back as much as he could manage to tide them over until they could figure out a better solution.

Matt crumpled the note in his fist. He had no idea which way his dad had gone other than him often talking about trying to find back roads through the hills to the north, to not only reach the cache more directly but on a path where they’d be less likely to encounter other people. But more importantly, the note had specifically forbidden him from trying to follow, and given him the responsibility for taking care of his mom and Sam and looking out for April’s family until his dad returned.

Struggling to keep his legs from shaking, he made his way over to sit next to his mom on the side opposite Sam and put his arms around them both. He didn’t know what comfort he could offer, because whatever he might say he felt mostly dread.

His dad was a capable man, physically strong for his age, who’d led by example all his life, and Matt had every confidence that if it could be done he’d manage it. But at the same time it was a dangerous journey and his dad wasn’t a young man, not to mention he was already weak from hunger. What if he got injured like Trev had, all alone out in the middle of nowhere? What if he ran into Razor’s thugs or some other bandits?

He wanted to go after him, but he knew his dad was right that he was needed here. All they could do was pray, pray and trust that he knew what he was doing.

The first storm lasted for just under two days.

Lewis and Trev endured it restlessly in the small confines of their hideout, only popping out for firewood, to use the outhouse, or to check around during lulls. When it finally ended they emerged to a world covered with snow, with iron gray clouds still brooding over the mountains. It was impossible not to admire the wild beauty of the scene, but the lingering clouds warned of the possibility of more snow to come and encouraged them to make the best use they could of the time they had.

Their first priority was to take what they’d learned from conditions during the storm to set things up more comfortably, as well as clearing trails in snow that was already a few feet deep to the outhouse and the woodpile and icehouse.