Seasons: A Year in the Apocalypse Page 13

  “What an asshole,” she quipped. “Regardless of what he did for that woman down by Rigby. He’s still a king-sized asshole in my book.”

  We had another problem, one that was becoming increasingly urgent to solve given the advent of the colder weather.

  Our woodshed was nearly empty. That made it sound as though we had a few extra sticks to share. Never before had I seen the dirt floor beneath the wood. But now, there was more dirt than wood.

  “We need wood, badly,” I informed my friend one day during a sparse midday meal.

  She shrugged and grunted. One of her moods, I decided.

  “There’s plenty of downed stuff up in the woodlot,” she replied, picking mold from her edges of her pale-yellow cheese. “We go up there and cut some, we’ll be okay.”

  I rolled forward on my elbows, trying to draw her closer attention. “We need cut wood. We don’t have any reserves left in our bodies to cut and haul a bunch of wood. We need stuff that is ready to burn and easily accessible with our cart.”

  She stared at me as if she had something clever to say. “Why don’t you give that oldest Frederickson boy a roll in the hay, and maybe he’ll help us out?”

  She could be so vulgar and so simpleminded all in the same sentence.

  “First of all,” I began after drawing a deep breath, “he’s probably only seventeen. I’m a little too old for him. Secondly, and most important, they don’t want English women; they want Amish.”

  She leaned back staring at the ceiling. “Forbidden fruit is always the sweetest, GeeMah used to say.”

  “Then why don’t you?” I snapped.

  Her grin reached from ear to ear. “They don’t like dark meat. You and me both know that. Not in this area, at least.”

  Rubbing my forehead, I tried to remain calm. It wasn’t easy, given my housemate’s attitude of late.

  “I have an idea,” I stated. “You know that place down the road, with all the piles of cut wood?”

  She nodded. “Baultmann?”

  I flinched; she couldn’t keep anything straight. “Bauman, but close enough. Mr. Frederickson told me he died last spring and his widow left to move in with her children. What do you think about going down there and helping ourselves to some of what’s just sitting there?”

  She frowned. “I think it’s stealing. I heard of people getting shot for stealing chickens and bicycles and all kind of stuff. I don’t want to get shot.”

  I tried to remain calm, but Sunshine wasn’t listening again. “No one lives there. It isn’t stealing, then.”

  “I told you I saw someone down there last month,” she replied. “If they live there, that’s their wood now. That’s the way it works. Lasky even told us that much.”

  “There’s no one there,” I insisted though I wasn’t really sure. “I say in the morning, we each eat two big spoonful’s of that honey Mrs. Frederickson gave us, so we have plenty of energy, we grab that cart of ours, and we get us some wood. How does that sound?”

  She rose from her spot and slammed her palms on the table. “It sounds like we’re stealing. But I suppose it doesn’t hurt to check it out. But I really think there’s some big fellow and his girl living there.”

  Good enough for me. We’d check it out, and if the coast was clear, we’d have all the wood we needed for the winter. Or as much as we could steal before we died from exhaustion.

  Chapter 41

  “I think it’s just wood splinters,” Sunshine whispered, studying the back of my bloodied hand. “I don’t think there’s any damage.”

  Well, that didn’t help the pain. “What the hell was that?” I asked, wiping the blood on my dirty jeans. A trip to see Mrs. Frederickson was in my future so I could make sure to get my hand cleaned properly.

  Sunshine stared at me as if I were the dense one. “That was a gunshot. The one I warned you about yesterday. I told you someone might take offense to stealing their wood.”

  Damn that girl. How many times did she have to be right before I listened to her?

  “I know it was a gunshot,” I replied, attempting to keep my cool. “I just didn’t expect it.”

  Sunshine spat on my wound and rubbed it on her jacket. “I told you there was smoke in the chimney. I warned you this was a bad idea.”

  With my back pressed against the pile of cut wood I studied our predicament. To the north, some 50 yards or so, was a fence line made up of thick trees. To the west, about the same distance, lay the road. Both were adequate escape routes. But both had too much open ground for us to get shot.

  “I say we wait here a few more minutes,” I whispered, “and then crawl our way to the tree line. Agreed?”

  Sunshine studied the distance and the options. “Whatever don’t get us shot is just fine with me. I’d just as soon die stealing a pig as I would stealing cut wood if I had my choices.”

  I grabbed the collar of her jacket and pulled her near. “No one is getting shot. Everything is going to be fine. We just need to be cautious making our escape.”

  Her eyes twitched for a few moments. “Or we could surrender. Show ’em we don’t have no weapons.”

  I didn’t like that option, but if we took any more fire it might be the best plan.

  “Or you could just stand up and say hello.” A new voice from the other side of the wood pile caused Sunshine and me to jump. We were busted.

  The body attached to the voice came around our hiding spot. Towering over us was a red-haired freckle-faced being, a taller, muscular-looking being.

  “My name’s Patty,” she said. Though the gun was pointed at us, it soon lowered. “Why don’t you come inside, and we’ll get that wound tended to.”

  Someone had gotten the drop on us, another woman, no less.

  Inside the old farmhouse, Sunshine and I sat, warming from the morning chill. Above me, Patty cleaned my wound and applied an oily salve. Her touch was amazingly soft for a person of her stature.

  Sunshine watched the other woman, a younger gal, sitting on the counter eating an apple.

  “I told Patty not to shoot,” she stated in a high-pitched feminine voice. “I told her just to go and talk to you.” She grinned between bites. “But not old Patty there. No, she has to be all tough and rough.”

  Patty glanced at her friend. “And I told Julie that if I let you steal wood, our food would be next.” She looked back at me. “And I didn’t know you were a pair of women, like us. Probably wouldn’t have shot if I’d known that.”

  If that was her apology, I accepted it. The wound was caused by wood splinters, we decided, not the bullet shot from the clean and shiny small-caliber rifle.

  The differences between the two were striking. Patty was tall and large boned; Julie was tiny, a mere waif. Patty’s hair was a brilliant red, Julie’s a dirty blond. Patty had the mannerisms of a man; Julie was the most feminine person I’d met in years.

  But they were like us, Sunshine and me, two women who had banded together to survive in a world that was dangerous for all beings. At least, I thought they were like us.

  Several stares and smiles made me wonder. When we had walked in the back door of the place, Julie dashed over and grabbed Patty’s hands. And one of them called the other pumpkin, but I couldn’t recall who had uttered the phrase.

  I noticed Sunshine’s quiet demeanor as she watched them interact. She noticed something as well. When it suddenly struck me, as they shared a quick smooch, I watched my friend’s eyes narrow. Please, just once, Sunshine, just this once, don’t say anything.

  “I know what you two are,” Sunshine said, rising from her chair and peeking at me. “GeeMah told me about women like you two.”

  “Sunshine,” I interrupted, trying to stop her from saying something stupid. “Let’s thank them and be on—”

  “You’re lezzies,” she spouted. “GeeMah told me about women that like other women.”

  My eyes went shut, and I felt my face flush with crimson embarrassment. Did she always have to say what was on her mi
nd?

  “I’m sorry,” I sputtered. “My friend here doesn’t always have the best manners, I’m afraid.”

  Funny, neither of them appeared offended. To be exact, they both shrugged and went back to whatever they were doing.

  “Ain’t you two?” Julie asked in the sweetest of tones.

  Sunshine’s arms fell to her sides. “Ain’t we two what?”

  “You know…” Julie replied with a grin. “Together and all?”

  I felt my eyes widen; my throat tightened, and I began to cough.

  “Hell no!” Sunshine shouted. “I ain’t like that. And Abby’s had two husbands. We ain’t like that at all.”

  The pair nodded at one another and grinned. Patty stepped closer.

  “Share a house? Meals? Keep each other company and all that?”

  I smiled and tried to intercept the conversation. “Of course we do.”

  Patty’s tall form inched closer. “Let each other cry on your shoulders? Share hugs?”

  I saw where she was going. But she was mistaken. “Well yes, but—”

  “Maybe even share a bed? To keep warm and all?” she continued.

  “I don’t like to sleep alone,” Sunshine said, sounding embarrassed.

  Patty reached and touched my shoulder. “I think you’re a lot more like us than you might believe.”

  I was quiet for a moment; she had a good point. Perhaps we were.

  Chapter 42

  “So we got run off by a bunch of closed-minded folks down by Sioux Falls, and we found this place about a month ago.” We all sat at the table, sipping warm water as Julie regaled us with stories of their past. She could tell a good tale.

  “Probably won’t be here real long,” she continued, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “There’s a lot of Mennonites in the area. They don’t like people like us; claim it’s unnatural.”

  “They’re actually Amish,” I interjected. “And I think you’ll find them quite accepting.”

  Both of our new friends shook their heads at that comment.

  “This is our sixth place in four years,” Patty added. “If people would just leave us alone, everything would be fine.”

  I glanced at the older one, Patty. “How old are you, if I can ask?”

  She seemed to take no offense to the question. “Either forty-one or forty. I lost track a while back.”

  I looked at Julie. “And you?”

  She beamed with youthful pride before answering, taking hold of her friend’s hands. “I’m twenty-one. I’ll be twenty-two next spring in May. May the fourteenth.”

  “And you both been like this since you were born?” I cringed at Sunshine’s inquiry. Her tact left much to be desired.

  “Yeah,” Patty answered sternly. “I didn’t wake up one morning and decide to be gay.”

  Sunshine made a face as though she’d meant nothing by the question. “And you like older women, Julie?” My God, couldn’t she just back off a little?

  “My momma said I was a born sinner. Claimed I had a demon in me. Told me I was unholy for liking girls.” She didn’t appear bothered by the question or her tormented past.

  “When Momma died, me and Daddy and my little brother, Charlie, had a tough go of it. I met Patty one day at the market. There was just something special about her. Something that gave me feelings I couldn’t deny. We been together ever since.”

  We smiled politely at one another, and Sunshine, thankfully, took a break from her interrogation. When I looked up, I discovered Patty staring at me.

  “And what’s your story?” she asked.

  Taking a deep breath first, I told my tale of woe. I didn’t leave anything out. Two marriages, two lost children, kind neighbors, a stringent taskmaster. Everything. Including my latest saga.

  I felt a hand on mine as I finished… Patty’s. “I’m sorry,” she said in a sympathetic way. “Life sucks sometimes. You’ve had it bad.”

  Yeah, that pretty much summed it up. Bad.

  Sunshine spoke a little about her past. I’d heard some of it before. No parents, a slew of brothers and sisters—actual and adopted—and GeeMah. She made it sound as though what she had been through wasn’t all that bad. I noticed tears in her eyes when she talked of finding me.

  “I got a man who’s coming back soon,” Sunshine continued. “Everything’s gonna be all right.”

  “That’s great,” Julie responded, patting her hand.

  “That man is my fifteen-year-old son,” I added, perhaps a little bitter. “And he’s not coming back for you. He’s coming back for us.”

  “He’ll be sixteen by the time he gets back,” Sunshine countered. “Old enough to make up his own mind about those kind of things.”

  I glowered at her. “We can discuss this later… in private, preferably.”

  I noticed Patty’s grin. “Sounds like a momma bear protecting her cub to me.”

  Yes, it was, I suppose. But I had different plans for Walker. Plans that didn’t necessarily include Walker and Sunshine romantically involved. I gave the conversation a satisfied smile. I knew all of that was a ways off.

  It must have been three hours, our visit with Patty and Julie. They were nice people, good friends, to have nearby. But as we left, Patty warned us of changes to our friendship that could come at any time.

  “Now don’t go telling that Mr. Frederickson or any of his neighbors all about us,” Patty warned. “Otherwise, they might show up with pitchforks and torches, chasing us off. We’d like to stay through the winter, at least.”

  We waved our goodbyes and headed home. We grabbed a cart full of wood, with Patty’s permission, now that we were all friends. Together, Sunshine and I dragged the cart to the road—easier pulling there.

  “And they said we could come back and grab whatever we wanted going forward,” Sunshine commented about the wood bounty. “Nice enough gals… for their type.”

  I shook my head at her. “We are not to judge, Sunshine. And not a word of this to anyone. Not Mr. or Mrs. Frederickson or Mr. Lasky or even Walker. Their secret is safe with us.”

  Grunting as we pulled over a small incline, Sunshine shrugged. “I can keep my mouth shut. Just hope you can do the same. Being all friendly is kinda your specialty, you know.”

  For the moment, things looked brighter. At the very least, we’d be warm for the winter months. As long as our strength held out.

  Chapter 43

  Another morning, some ten days later, I was staring at our crops. Sunshine and I had harvested most of our portion already—onions, carrots, beets, beans and such. Except for a small plot of potatoes and a dozen squash, all that remained was the corn. More specifically, Mr. Hulton’s corn.

  If I were honest with myself, it didn’t look very healthy. Some stalks held thin, long ears, their silk now a dark brown. Other stalks had dwarf ears, no more than two or three inches long. Some stalks on the outer edges held no corn at all.

  My saving grace, our saving grace — hopefully, were two or three of the middle rows. For the most part, they appeared healthy and normal. The ears in those rows looked as they had in previous seasons.

  But it was the small and missing ears that caused me hopeless feelings. Walker would return in another year or so; Sasha might grow up and find her way back to me. Another man might even come into my life. However, if we didn’t get a proper harvest from the corn, all of that wishful thinking was for naught. I’d never survive to see another spring.

  I paced the perimeter of the corn. My hand cupped my chin as I stepped into one of the better rows in the center. Moving maybe 10 feet in, I paused and felt one of the healthy-looking ears.

  Closing my eyes, I said a little prayer that I might find what was needed: a corncob full of dark-yellow fruit.

  I peeled the silk and shuck away. Staring at my bounty, I felt my soul collapse as my eyes closed. How was it possible?

  The ear was only half full of seeds. The entire top half, maybe even three quarters, was either bare or showed tiny, shri
veled pieces of corn. All hope abandoned me as I fell to my knees in the dirt. The tears came quickly, quietly.

  We needed a miracle. I needed a miracle.

  I said little to Sunshine as we ate a meager breakfast of cheese, flatbread, and some preserves, all sent over by Mrs. Frederickson. As usual, she dominated the conversation, rarely waiting for a response. I was thankful for my chatty friend; it saved me from my worries for a little while.

  “I think we should go over and see if your Amish boyfriend will give us a few pumpkins,” Sunshine chattered. “I mean, it looks like he has about a million of them in that one back field. Surely, he can spare two or three.”

  I gazed at her blankly. “Remind me again why we want pumpkins?” I needed to pay better attention when she spoke.

  “Well,” she replied, rubbing her hands together. “First off, we can toast the seeds. GeeMah always did that every fall. They ain’t the best eating, but they’re something. We can eat the guts like some kind of squash; that is, unless he’s growing pie pumpkins. That’d be better. We could have a couple pumpkin pies.”

  The thought of pumpkin pie took me back to my own grandmother’s house, after the collapse of everything. She too had a large garden, and if one thing grew good, rain or shine, in that area, it was pumpkins.

  “And of course, we can carve jack-o’-lanterns,” Sunshine finished. “I like them. GeeMah always let us carve the pumpkin shells and keep them for a while. Until they started to rot and stink up the apartment.”

  She stopped, and I continued to nod. “What’s got into you today?” she asked. “Something ain’t right. You missing your kids again?”

  That was Sunshine’s loving velvet touch, delivered with a closed fist.

  “Yes, I miss Walker and Sasha.” I lied, but it was just to keep her from worrying.

  Immediately, she went back to her plans for the fall and beyond. “I got some ideas for after the harvest.” I noticed the twinkle in her eye, that dreamy look she sometimes had.