Seasons: A Year in the Apocalypse Page 14

  “We get anywhere near thirty-five pounds, and we’ll have enough credits to last until this time next year. We’ll be able to eat decent, meat and all.”

  I shot her an extremely unenthusiastic smile. “Let’s not plan on getting all the credits we want,” I advised. “Let’s figure out how to live on less.”

  Her smile and twinkle disappeared. “How much less you thinking? Full harvest gets us two thousand credits. They claim that will feed the two of us for fifty weeks though I don’t really buy their crap.”

  “Let’s plan on half, say one thousand credits,” I stated, checking her temperature as I spoke. Cool was an adept description. “How will we manage on half as many credits, in your mind?”

  She crossed her arms tightly over her chest and cocked an eye at me. “Sounds like I’ll be okay. You’re gonna starve, but I’ll make it.” She rose and flung her arms in the air. “We can’t live on that few of credits. Four of us almost used two thousand in six months, Abby. Where you getting all this negativity from?”

  I refused to give up the knowledge I had gained in the garden. There was always the hope of a better-than-expected harvest. I wasn’t really much of a farmer, no less a corn expert myself.

  “Talk, woman,” Sunshine demanded. “Talk. Spill the beans.”

  Maybe just a little warning would help quell any fears she might be harboring. But just a little.

  Chapter 44

  “We’re gonna die,” Sunshine moaned, lying in the grass facedown. “We ain’t ever gonna make it through the winter. Not without food.”

  I stood above her, rolling my eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, Sunshine. It isn’t that bad.”

  Rolling onto her side, she peeked up. “Not that bad? Half this shit don’t got any corn seeds. We’ll be lucky to get Hulton back his original twenty pounds. We are so gonna die.”

  I paced next to the corn, stopping to inspect a new ear. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you. I knew you’d overreact.” And she had, as usual.

  “I wonder what happens if we get less than twenty?” A new angle for her bemoaning something we couldn’t change now. “Maybe Lasky just takes his gun out and shoots us in the head. That’d save us from starving.”

  Another nearly barren ear peeked out of its shuck. I felt my face tighten though I tried to hide it from Sunshine. She might have noticed when my shoulders slumped forward farther than normal.

  “No one is going to shoot us,” I mumbled. Though her point on starvation seemed possible. “I need to ask Mr. Frederickson what he thinks. There’s still several weeks before harvest. Perhaps something can be done.”

  “We can just wander off,” Sunshine replied, standing without brushing the dirt off her clothes. “Maybe we’ll find a place to take us in. Maybe those new friends of ours will help us out… if we do things.”

  I’d about had all of Sunshine’s antics I could take for one day. However, since we weren’t even to midday, I knew there’d be a full day of whining ahead. Oh goody.

  Two days passed before another visit from our Amish neighbor. After I explained my findings, he and I walked to the garden together. Sunshine refused to follow. Claimed the heartache was just too much to bear.

  “Looks like corn blight to me,” Mr. Frederickson advised after inspecting a half-dozen locations. “I noticed some cigar-shaped brown spots on the leaves before they all turned. Here, this is what it looks like.”

  He pointed me at one stalk, and I studied something, but what I was looking at meant nothing to me.

  “And it can damage yields?” I asked with a nervous tone.

  He nodded, glancing at me with the face of pity. “That and the fact the soil has had so much corn over the years. The people here before you planted corn for Hulton too. I’m afraid the soil has been stripped of all its nutrients.”

  But we had fertilized, just as Mr. Frederickson himself had told us to.

  He must have anticipated my concern. “The fertilizer probably went on too late to do any good this year.” He patted my shaking hands. “But next year should be better.”

  That was some consolation to me. Little, but some. Next year’s crops might do better. If there was a next year.

  Though I dreaded the task, I escorted Mr. Lasky to the corn when he came a few days after Mr. Frederickson’s less-than-positive news. His twisting face told me he wasn’t pleased.

  “Frederickson says blight?” he requested as he inspected several ears.

  In a defeated fashion, I stared down. “That’s what he thought.” What else could I say? The proof was before us, and I had no idea what had gone wrong.

  “This ain’t good,” Mr. Lasky grumbled, pulling away the husks on several additional ears. “This garbage on the outside is damned near unusable. Blight or just poor crop care. Call it whatever it is.”

  I didn’t want to know my future but felt the urge to ask anyway. “Do think we’ll yield forty pounds?”

  He grabbed his head with both hands and squeezed as though he had a terrible headache. I guess that was my answer.

  “Is there any way to cut the quota back to something more doable?” I begged. “Say thirty or thirty-five pounds?”

  A deep breath escaped before he turned to face me. Something in his look had gone dark… darker than usual.

  “The number’s the number,” he answered, seeming to take no joy in delivering the news.

  “When will the harvest occur?” May as well know when the reality of the situation was coming.

  “Two weeks, give or take a day here and there for rain. We want it mostly dried before we weigh it.” He could tell I didn’t understand what he meant. “You get fully dried seeds in the spring. It ain’t fair to us to have you benefit for seeds all fat with moisture.”

  I nodded. That made sense, and whether or not it was fair, that was the way it would be. The way I saw it, I had two weeks before this disaster became my reality.

  Chapter 45

  Warm, sunny fall days brought one last round of bugs to life. Sitting on the porch with Sunshine, rocking as we usually did, I noticed bees and boxelder bugs playing on our rusty screens.

  Sunshine had had an all-out fit when I told her of my findings, as reported by Mr. Frederickson and Mr. Lasky. Moaning and whining went on for two days as she reminded me we were going to starve to death the coming winter. At least with our constant hauling of wood from Patty and Julie’s place, we’d die warm. And maybe happy.

  “You know,” I said watching the breeze push leaves around the yard. “We’ll have some credits, say one thousand, and the kindness of our neighbors. They won’t let us starve. I’m sure of that.”

  “Oh goodie,” she replied. “We’ll die of a slow starvation instead of all at once.”

  I’d figured as much from her. She was proving to be a less-than-happy soul when things looked anything but up.

  “I’m hungry,” she moaned.

  “Go get some more cheese and flatbread,” I replied, not wanting to give in to her antics.

  “No,” she stated, sitting straight in her spot. “I’m always hungry. Even after we eat, I’m hungry. It’s always gnawing at the bottom of my stomach. Let me ask you something, Abby, and answer me straight. Is it always gonna be like this? Just barely getting by, barely living?”

  I let a warm smile soften her before answering. “Next year will be better. Even Mr. Frederickson said so. Our garden will have all the nutrients it needs to grow bountiful crops. We’ll have plenty next year, and Walker will be here to help us make sure we do.”

  Her face turned down. “If we don’t get what we need out of the corn this year, you’re going to have to extend Walker’s contract… just so we can survive. You know that, right?”

  My body trembled at her words. “I will do everything in my power to be sure that doesn’t happen, Sunshine. I will go hungry and you can eat, just so we don’t have to add another day to his imprisonment. I’ll do whatever it takes. Do you understand me?”

  Apparentl
y, my wrath frightened her. The wide-eyed look she gave me told me so. She only nodded.

  My stare must have made her nervous, so she looked away. Good; so much for negative thoughts. The only way we would stay alive was to be positive. At least, as positive as we could be.

  “What the hell,” she said, leaning forward in her rocker. “What are those two lugging down the road?”

  I peeked past her and saw two people approaching. At first, I considered advising Sunshine that we should hide. But then I recognized one of the two. Her cropped red hair, her upright posture.

  Good, we had visitors. Just what our spirits needed.

  Both Patty and Julie carried canvas bags on their backs. As they got closer, I noticed a stain on the bottom covering of each bag. When they got closer, where I could tell the color of their eyes, I noticed something dripping from the bottom of the bags—a crimson fluid.

  “What you got there?” Sunshine asked, nodding at their bloody backs. “That seems like a whole lot of blood.”

  Patty grinned, as did Julie. “Got two deer this morning,” Patty replied, pride coloring her words. “They were little, but I thought we’d run them up to the Amish store and see if we could swing a trade.”

  That made sense. “Well, the Amish will take almost anything,” I replied. “They’ll probably dry the meat and—”

  “Fine, fine,” Patty interrupted. “Here.” She shoved a white package at me. “This is for you and Sunshine.”

  I took it though the bloody exterior was less than appealing to me. “Thank you,” I replied, showing it to Sunshine. She appeared more enthused than me.

  “You know how to cook venison?” Julie chimed in.

  “Hell,” Sunshine said, grabbing the bloody mess from my hand. “I’ll eat it raw if need be. It’s been so long since we had fresh meat—”

  “I do it with butter and onions,” Julie continued. “You get the best flavor that way.”

  I studied the pair, wondering if they knew what they were walking into at the Amish store. I decided to broach the subject carefully.

  “You know,” I began quietly. “Um, I’m not sure if you’ve thought this through all the way…” I ran out of words, afraid that saying anything further might insult them.

  Taking Patty’s hand in hers, Julie snuggled against the taller woman’s shoulder. “Me and Aunt Patty are just out enjoying the beautiful day,” she recited. “We’re hoping the Amish people don’t mind all the blood.”

  I noticed Sunshine’s lips curl slightly. Patty’s did as well.

  “We’re good at this,” Patty added. “Not everyone is as open-minded as you two are. Well, we’d better be off. Want to keep this meat as fresh as possible.”

  We waved as they cut through my property—someone’s property—and headed off to make their trade. I felt Sunshine take my hand. I didn’t have to look; I could already hear her chuckling.

  “Yes?” I knew better than to ask but needed a laugh myself.

  “Things get bad enough,” she began, fighting back all-out laughter. “I’m picking Julie. You can figure out what to do with that red-headed lumberjack. I want the cute one.”

  Together, we laughed most of the rest of the day. And we enjoyed our first taste of fresh meat in months. It ended up a good day. One of few.

  Chapter 46

  I hoped for rain over the next two weeks. I’m not sure why—perhaps to postpone the inevitable. But rain, much like good luck, avoided me.

  Another day of rest greeted us with beautiful fall weather: fair blue skies, little to no breeze, and temperatures that allowed Sunshine and me to stroll to see Walker in our usual summer clothes topped off with light sweaters.

  “Hey, Ma,” he called out with his usual happiness absent. “How ya been?”

  Through the fence, I took his hands and kissed them. They were rough and chapped. The corn harvest had taken a toll on them and him.

  My son looked tired. I worried that he’d been sick, but he promised me he wasn’t. He claimed it was just from the harvest they were in the middle of. Where I had grown 20 measly rows of corn, Mr. Hulton’s land hosted thousands and thousands of rows. Planting, Walker always said, was terrible because of the bending. The harvest was worse.

  “I’m fine,” I replied, fighting back tears. “You look tired, Son. Are you getting enough rest? And food—are they feeding you enough? You’re not working from sunup to sundown, are you?”

  He shot me a soft smile. “I’m fine, Ma. Just a little worn out from all the work lately. But I’m fine, and everything here is fine. Don’t worry; they take good care of us.”

  Sunshine inched closer; I noticed her foolish young-girl grin. “You look good, Walker,” she said, sticking her hands through the fence, rubbing his midsection. “You’re growing so much. Becoming a real man, aren’t you?”

  He grinned and blushed a little bit. “I’m getting there,” he replied. “By the time I’m done next fall, I’ll be able to take over running the land back home. I’m gonna do you proud, Ma. Really, I am.”

  Squeezing his hands as tight as I dared, I felt tears slide down my gaunt face. “I’m always proud of you, Son. Always. You saved my life, our lives. And for that, I have a mother’s pride a hundred times over.”

  “Me too, Walker,” Sunshine added, just above a whisper. She was crying, too. “Me too.”

  Uncomfortable seconds passed as both Sunshine and I tried to compose ourselves. Wiping away the last of my tears, I noticed someone approaching inside the fence.

  “Ladies,” he said as he stopped next to my son. “Nice stretch of weather we’re having.”

  “What do you want, Lasky?” Sunshine beat me to it though I might have addressed him in a nicer tone.

  “Luke needs to head back and get some rest,” he quipped, patting my son’s shoulder. “He’s been working hard, real hard. He deserves some extra time in his bunk.”

  “But we just got here,” I begged. “Surely, we can talk for another ten minutes, can’t we?”

  His face tightened, his eyes narrowing as his lips pursed. “Mr. Hulton would like to talk to you, Mrs. Turner. Alone. Sunshine can wait outside the gate for you.”

  All my hope faded with the request. I was sure I was about to be chastised about my crops—Mr. Hulton’s crops, more specifically.

  “I really don’t want to discuss the corn today,” I replied, still holding Walker’s hands through the fencing. “Can’t we do it some other time?”

  Mr. Lasky came closer to me. “He don’t want to talk about crops, per se. He just wants to talk.”

  What choice did I have in the matter? When Rickard Hulton wanted someone beholden to him, you had to honor the request.

  “You go get some more rest, Luke,” he said. “Come meet me at the gate, Mrs. Turner.”

  That’s the way it was, the way it would be until Walker’s contract was done. And perhaps forever. Like it or not.

  Together, we walked past a pair of guards lazing about in the early fall warmth. Neither seemed to take any notice of me, though they both nodded and stood a little taller when they spied Mr. Lasky, their boss.

  The moment we walked inside, I struggled to see—sun blindness, my mother used to call it. Well, I suppose it still went by the same name, but it was hard to make my way down the dark hallway, squinting as I was.

  “Perhaps a little light in some of these darker areas would help?” I offered, feeling my accompanier take my elbow to point me the right direction.

  “I’ll just flip on a light,” he joked.

  “I would think a wealthy man like Mr. Hulton is could have some lamps burning in the dark nooks and crannies of his home.” I saw the door to the living room. “Just so when guests come calling—or are so politely asked inside—we could make our way without fearing for our safety.”

  He snorted, stopping by the living-room door.

  “Well, Mr. Hulton’s a thrifty man, Mrs. Turner,” he lectured. “He doesn’t believe in wasting resources like lamp oil and su
ch on silly little things.” His head jerked, pointing me inside. “He’s waiting for you.”

  I smiled and nodded and went to go inside when his hand grabbed my elbow again.

  “Let me give you some friendly advice, if I can,” he whispered. “Listen to everything he has to say. Don’t go jumping to any conclusions until you’ve heard him out. I think, in the end, you’ll find him to be a reasonable man. Okay?”

  My heart fluttered as I peeked into the well-lit room. What were these two up to now?

  Chapter 47

  A friendly greeting from across the room urged me to come and join him by the unlit fireplace. As always, I did as asked. Next, tea and flatbread smothered in blueberry preserves were served by a middle-aged woman I had noticed on one of my previous visits. I wasn’t sure I knew her name, but I knew the face.

  “Thank you, Shelby,” Mr. Hulton said, chasing the woman away. “Be sure to shut the door on the way out. I have private business to discuss with Mrs. Turner.”

  She may have responded in some way, but I heard nothing except for the door closing softly when she was gone. Only then did he take an easy position by the fireplace, one arm lifted, leaning against the dark wooden mantle.

  “How are you today, Mrs. Turner?” he asked, as if he really cared. That I doubted.

  “Fine,” I answered in a confident voice. I refused to show any weakness to him, now or ever.

  “Lask tells me your crops are a little stunted,” he continued, almost looking embarrassed. “I want you to know that I’ll be very fair with the harvest numbers. I promise to round up for you at every chance I get.”

  For a man who didn’t want to talk about corn, he certainly got at it right away. I wondered if Mr. Lasky knew the real reason for my being here.