Survivalist by Circumstance

By Cheryl L. Cholley

Volume Four

Darrell and Rick worked feverishly for several weeks getting the pantry cleaned and prepared, then filling it with canned produce.  Between picking and canning, they browsed catalogs and websites searching for the items Rick advised Darrell to buy to prepare for the coming Depression.

Darrell might not have believed Rick’s doomsday predictions, but he believed in his friend.  His advice had saved his butt more than once, and the last tip had been a doozy.

The two men sat in the living room of Darrell’s home, resting up after a busy morning caring for livestock, planting and harvesting produce.  Their afternoon would be taken up with another food preservation session.  Rick spent a large chunk of his time helping Darrell on the ranch, plowing, seeding, feeding, or whatever was needed.  When it was time for harvest, Rick was right there too.

This time it was winter squash.  They planned to build wooden crates and fill them with layers of hay and squash.  The hay would protect the squash, keeping the veggies from touching each other.  The squash would last several months in the root cellar protected in that manner.

The TV was on, and the newscast began with a dire prediction.  “Congress has announced it will cease subsidies to farmers.”  The two men looked at each other, confused.

After a break, the newscaster returned with his story.  “Beginning next month, farmers will no longer receive subsidies to encourage them to artificially increase food prices on the market.  In the future, farmers will have to farm their fields and sell the produce at whatever prices the market can bear.  Droughts in the Midwest have caused crop failures for over six years, and as a result food prices have skyrocketed.  Politicians have debated the issue for decades, and the conclusion has finally come that subsidies cause more harm than good.  The move is considered to be good for the American economy, but also for farmers in third world countries that will not have to compete for prices.”

Darrell and Rick exchanged glances.  “What do you suppose that will do to the economy?”  Darrell asked.

Rick had his theories.  “Ridding the general population of the burden of paying subsidies to farmers will reduce the burden of debt by billions of dollars.  It’s just one of the cuts Congress has put into effect to reduce the national debt and balance the budget.

The problem with that premise is that the taxes on the national debt are so high that no matter what cuts are made to the budget, they will never be able to balance the budget.  That’s why they’ve been purchasing the debt.  If they don’t, the government will fail and we’ll have anarchy.”

The news was full of cheer that day, though.  The newscaster continued with another story, piling bad news on bad news.  “The American consumer takes another hit today as well.”  He read gleefully.  “The National Medical Insurance Program, instituted in 2014, will cost the average family over 22 percent more this year.  Congress has approved an increase in the cost of the program to cover the cost of the millions of baby boomers that are retiring.”

Darrell stood and pushed a button on his remote.  “Well, that’s enough good news for today.  I don’t think I can stand any more cheer.”  He said.

Rick chuckled.  “And so it begins.  This is a minor symptom of the major illness plaguing the people of our fair country.  Yesterday it was higher gas prices, over six dollars a gallon this month, and tomorrow…who knows?  Maybe they’ll stop giving food stamps to the poor.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few days later, just as Darrell was leaving the house for the evening livestock feeding, the phone rang.

“Dad!  Great to hear from you.”  Darrell told his father.  “How is it going in The City?”

Edward sounded more than a little upset.  As a matter of fact, he seemed distraught.  “Don’t give me that, Darrell.  You know how things are!  How could you let me just sit here and stew without doing something about helping me?”  He was not taking the latest news easy.

“What do you mean, Dad?  Is something wrong?”  Darrell asked, more than a little curious what could have happened to upset his dad.

Edward stopped, took a deep breath and sighed.  “Ok, Darrell.  I know you told me to sell the house, but I thought you were just buying into a bunch of bull from that survivalist friend of yours.  How was I supposed to know things were going to get this bad?”

“Dad.”  Darrell paused.  “Dad, I tried to talk to you but you wouldn’t listen.  What has happened?  I know the Stock Market took another dive, but I was expecting that.  You should have expected it too.  The good news is that your money is safe.  It’s even growing quite nicely since I put most of it into precious metals.”

Edward growled.  “And what makes you think gold and silver are any safer than stocks?  Next thing you know the price of gold will drop.”  He sobbed a little as he said it.

“Dad, do a little digging.  Educate yourself.  History has proven that when fiat money takes a nosedive, precious metals fly high.  Fiat money is the greenbacks your Federal Government prints.  It was supposed to represent “real” money, gold, in Fort Knox, but once we went off the gold standard, money is no longer money, it’s just a piece of paper.  However, your money, real gold, is working for you as we speak, so relax.  Now I sense there’s something else bothering you, what is it?”  Darrell probed.

Darrell’s father had a hard time confiding in his son.  He was supposed to be the strong one, the leader, and here he was falling apart.  “Do you remember my neighbor, Thurston Banks?  He was a stockbroker, like you.”

“Was?”  Darrell asked, his stomach dropping.

Edward nodded, forgetting Darrell couldn’t see him.  “He committed suicide yesterday.”  Edward breathed a ragged breath.  “He was my oldest and dearest friend.  He lost everything!  He’s one of thousands that are giving it up and throwing in the towel.  It’s just like during the Great Depression.  How did you know what was going to happen and he didn’t?”

Darrell felt sorry for his father, but he had no idea how to help.  “I’m sorry, dad.  I know you were close.  But, how are you and mom holding up?”  He tried to guide the subject away from his dad’s friend.

Edward’s voice cracked as he spoke.  “We decided maybe it would be best to do as you suggested and sell the house.”

“That’s great, dad!”  Darrell told him.

“No, it’s not!”  Edward shouted.  “I spoke to a Realtor yesterday.  We can’t get nearly as much for our house as I expected.  Prices are dropping like a rock!”

Darrell sighed.  “Rick told me this would happen.  People have lost their money in the Stock Market, and have nothing coming in from their 401Ks, so they have to sell their homes to get money.  As everyone starts dumping homes on the market, nobody will be able to get a decent price.  Dad, be sure to carefully consider any offer you get.  Take the money and run, no matter how little it may seem.  You just need to get out fast.”

Edward ran his fingers through his hair, sighing downheartedly.  “Why didn’t you tell me about this, Darrell?  If you knew what was going to happen, why didn’t you tell me?”  He asked.

Darrell knew his father wasn’t really blaming him.  He was just worried.  “Dad, don’t worry about things.  All we need to do now is get you set up in New Mexico and things will be fine.”  He told him.

Edward sounded defeated, and small.  “We may not have enough money for a house after we sell the house here.”  He said, doggedly hanging onto his depressed mood.

“We have extra rooms in our home, dad, or we can build something for you.  No need to buy property somewhere else.  Mallory’s parents bought the house next to Rick, so we’ll all be close.”  He told his dad.  “Remember, even if the house prices are dropping in The City, you have your savings tied up in gold and silver.  Just don’t worry, ok?”  He advised.

The phone remained silent for a few moments, then Edward spoke.  “Ok, son.  We’ll do as you say and sell the house as soon as possible.  I’ll call if anything changes.”

<><><><><><><><><>

Rick drove into the Griffin’s driveway and parked his big grey truck.  Darrell was just about to get into his little mini-jeep to go feed the livestock when he saw the truck arrive.  He stood by his mini-jeep, waiting until Rick stepped down from the truck and walked over to where he stood.

“Hey buddy, how’s it going?”  Rick stuck out his hand, then when Darrell took it he pulled him close to slap him on the back.

Darrell smiled curiously.  The truck door on the opposite side had opened and closed, but the hood of the truck was so high he couldn’t see who had gotten out.

Rick smiled, tossing the hair from his face, revealing a warm gleam in the steely-gray eyes.  “You’ve met my girlfriend Karryn, haven’t you?”  He asked.

Darrell nodded, offering his hand to Karryn to welcome her.  “So what’s up?  Got a visitor and you won’t be helping me on the ranch for a while?”  He asked.

“Oh, no!”  Rick replied.  “Karryn’s moving here.  She’ll be staying with me.  I just brought her along to help out with the garden.”  He told his buddy.

Darrell smiled.  He attempted to hide the look of surprise on his face.  “What’s a ditzy girl like Karryn going to do in the garden?”  He thought to himself.

Karryn pulled a pair of gardening gloves from the bag she carried on her arm and put them on.  Then she extracted a huge floppy straw hat from the bag and perched it on her head, pulling her silky sable-brown ponytail through the opening at the back.  “Ok, I’m ready.”  She announced.

They took both vehicles to the garden, and parked by the gate.  All three got out and walked into the garden.  Rick looked over at his buddy, waiting for instructions.

“Today I thought we’d weed the broccoli and cabbage.  Rick, you know how to do it, why don’t you show Karryn what to do?”  He told them.

Weeding wasn’t hard, and Karryn did her row in record time, walking over to Darrell to ask where he wanted her to work next.  Darrell looked a bit surprised, but he showed her two more rows that needed attention.  Then when she was occupied with her new assignment, Darrell walked over to the row Karryn had just finished.  Sure enough, it was clean as a whistle.  She had even removed a few of the lower leaves of the plants so she could work beneath them.

As Darrell was walking down the row, he spied Karryn headed his direction.  He felt a little silly inspecting her work, and tried to think up a quick excuse for his presence on that row.

Karryn smiled as she approached.  Darrell waited to see what she wanted, not bothering with his lame excuse.

“I was wondering if you had a jar and some soapy water I could use.”  She asked.

Darrell pointed to a hose at the edge of the garden.  “You could wash your hands over there if you’d like.”  He said, assuming she was having a problem with dirt under her fingernails or something.

“Well, I was hoping for a container of soapy water to put the bugs in.  You have a few cabbage worms on the plants and I’d like to kill them before they multiply too mucb.  The best way to do that is with some soapy water.  If you have a spray bottle I could put some soapy water in, I could spray the plants after I pick off the visible worms.  It will help to kill the ones I miss.”  She explained.

Darrell’s jaw dropped.  The ditzy brunette was a very knowledgeable organic gardener.  He never said a word.  He got in his mini-jeep and went to fetch the items Karryn had requested.  He brought extras for himself and Rick also.

Together, the three worked the field until around noon, then they stopped for lunch.  Mallory had put a big bowl of salad in the refrigerator, and there were the makings of sandwiches to go with it.

“So Karryn, other than hiding your gardening talents, what do you do?”  Darrell asked.

Karryn smiled. “So you fell for the ditzy brunette act, eh Darrell?”

“Uh, yeah.”  Darrell agreed.  “You mean you don’t shop for shoes three days a week?”

He asked.

“Uh, no!”  Karryn laughed, mimicking Darrell’s previous remark, including the dude-ified intonation.  “That’s just an act to keep nosy people off the scent.  Actually, I train dogs for a living.  Watch dogs to be precise.  I’m looking for a studio right now to set up my business, so if you know of a place nearby I’d appreciate it if you let me know.”

Rick listened to the conversation with a smirk on his face.  “You mean you actually thought I’d spend time with an airhead, Darrell?”  He asked.

Darrell had the grace to admit he had fallen for the act.  “But why do you keep your profession a secret?”  He asked.

“The dogs I train are specialty items used mostly by survivalists.  They have ways to contact me.  As far as the general public knows I’m just a ditzy airhead brunette with 542 pairs of shoes in her closet.  Nobody needs to know my dog is a fine-tuned lethal weapon, or that my house is jam-packed with survival gear and enough food for a couple of years.  That’s none of their business.” Karryn explained.

Darrell thought a moment, then asked the question that was on his mind.  “So why tell me all of this now?”  He wondered.

“If we’re going to be neighbors, and hopefully friends, I thought it would be nice if you knew I wasn’t a total loss to the human race.”  She said.

Rick butted in about that time with news of his own.  “There’s another reason.”  He said.  “And as my best friend, you need to know it.”  He smiled, tossing the ever-present hair away from his eyes.

Darrell waited.

“If Karryn and I are going to get married, you need to know I’m not making a mistake.  I can’t have my best man thinking I’m going to marry a ditzy airhead brunette, can I?”  He asked, with a gleam in his eye.

“Married?”  Darrell choked.  “You said married!”

Rick leaned back and roared with laughter.  “Yes, I said married!”  He said.  “As in matrimony, tie the knot, pick up the ol’ ball and chain.  Married.”  Rick reached over and put his arm around his future bride, pulling her over to give her a sloppy kiss.

Darrell jumped up from his seat and rushed over, offering his hand in congratulations.  “Wow! This is the news of the century.  Congratulations you two!”

Rick and Karryn laughed together at the surprised look on Darrell’s face.  “You shoulda seen the look on your face, buddy.  It was a classic!”  He said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Darrell was out in the barnyard checking on his first set of baby pigs one Saturday morning when Frank and Jewell drove up.  He remained standing near the pen as the older couple left their vehicle and walked in his direction.

“Darrell, how’s it going this morning?”  Frank asked.

Darrell reached over and shook Frank’s hand.  “Things are going absolutely wonderful, Frank.  Sadie had ten pigs in her first litter.  She’s going to be a great sow.  Look, no dead pigs and no runts.  And they all look strong and healthy.”  He replied.

“That’s wonderful, Darrell.”  Frank told him.  “What do you plan to be doing later on today?”  He asked.

Darrell looked over toward the garden.  “I need to pick broccoli and cauliflower for the market tomorrow, then I was planning on cleaning stalls.  Why do you ask?”

“Well, Jewell was wanting to take Gemma shopping, so I thought I’d hang out at your place today.  That is, if it’s all right with you.”  Frank told him.

Darrell smiled.  “No problem by me.  I can always use an extra hand around here.  I hope you wore your working clothes, though.  It can get mighty dirty mucking stalls.”  He told his father-in-law.

“Let’s get started!”  Frank rubbed his hands together enthusiastically.

Jewell wished the men a good day, and drove off in the car to pick up her granddaughter for a day at the mall.

Once Jewell had left, Frank looked over at Darrell with a curious look on his face.  They were headed to the garden.  The back of the mini-jeep was loaded with large plastic containers to store the harvest until the market the following day.

“Darrell, are you enjoying your new life here?”  He got right to the point.  “You said this was what you wanted, but now that it’s reality, is it what you truly anticipated?”

Darrell smiled a serene sort of a smile.  “It’s a lot of work, but the answer is yes, I love what I’m doing and I think I could do this the rest of my life.  Now, why do you ask?”  He turned the tables on his father-in-law.

“I was thinking about what I wanted to do since we’ve moved.  Thanks to your friend Rick, and the sale of our house in San Franscisco, I could retire and spend the rest of my life just taking it easy.”  He replied.

Darrell knew Frank was still young and needed something to occupy himself, however.  “You could do that, but I’m thinking you’d die of boredom if you tried.”  He said.

“You hit the nail on the head, Darrell.  I have to do something or I’ll go stark raving mad.  Not saying Mallory’s mother isn’t good company, but sometimes she can be a handful.”  He laughed.  “I was thinking about a time when I was younger.  Back when I was in high school, my dad used to raise cattle.  You saw our new house, and the property we bought from Martha’s family.  Years ago Martha raised Arabians, and there are several barns for animals and to stack hay.  The property has been kept up rather well also.  She had four large fields that were planted in hay.  A neighbor has been leasing them for a number of years, harvesting the hay and giving her a cut for her share of the profit.”

Darrell thought a moment.  “Sounds like you’re pretty well set up for cattle, then.  He agreed.  Would you allow the neighbor to cut the hay, or simply graze the cattle on the fields?”  He asked.

“Well, I’ve been talking to Kurt, the neighbor about it.  There’s plenty of ground to raise hay, and I could take one of the fields and cross-fence to keep the cattle in.  That would leave three fields for hay, and I’d get paid for just allowing Kurt to cut it.  He says we could work out a deal if I wanted to store hay for the winter, too.”  Frank talked as he worked alongside Rick in the garden.

Rick appeared thoughtful for a moment.  “I know it would take a while to get things up and running, but customers at the market have been asking if I would consider selling beef.  Grass-fed beef fetches a premium price at the Farmer’s Market.  It would be a good way to supplement income from your other sources, too.”

After working an hour or so picking veggies, the two men went on to mucking stalls.  As they worked, they brainstormed Frank’s new business until the man was chomping at the bit to get started.

When Jewell and Gemma returned from shopping, Frank shook Darrell’s hand and thanked him for taking time to talk.  Darrell smiled.  “I think I got the better end of the deal.  All my work is finished and I can go get a big glass of tea and put my feet up.”

Frank laughed and agreed.  “Have a good time, Darrell.  And thanks again for helping me get my head on straight.”

<><><><><><><><><>

One morning after the kids had left for school and Mallory was at work, Darrell and Rick were in the garden planting some carrots.  Both men looked up when they heard the engine of a souped-up jacked-up horror in do-it-yourself camo paint revving angrily as it kicked up plumes of dust on the way down the driveway.

The driver of the monstrosity obviously spotted the two working in the garden, and turned the truck down the pathway in their direction.  As the truck arrived at the garden, the driver jammed the brakes hard, skidding to a stop just inches from the garden gate.  A layer of dust overtook the truck, coming to rest on the garden, leaving a reddish tint on all the veggies.

The door opened and a man in holey jeans and a faded red tee shirt sporting a skull and crossbones logo climbed down from the truck.  His size six pointy-toed cowboy boots kicked up little puffs of dust as he landed.  Rick snickered as the man, no more than five-two strode over to Darrell with a seven-foot attitude sticking out all over him.

“Can I help you with something?”  Darrell asked the man politely.

Mister attitude didn’t bother to introduce himself, getting right to the point immediately.  “I heard Vernon Shipwright had sold the property, but I didn’t want to believe it.  What makes you so special that he’d sell to you?  I’ve been trying to buy this property for over twenty years.”  He spat the last few words out, along with a stream of tobacco juice, narrowing his eyes in a glare.

Rick chuckled.  “You must have started your real estate empire pretty darned young, considering you don’t look to be much more than thirty-five right now, junior.”  He challenged.

“Ok.”  The man backpedaled a little as his eyes scanned the length of Rick’s six foot two frame.  “My dad made the initial offer back when I was in High School, but it was going to be mine when I got out of school.”

“My name’s Darrell.”  Darrell stuck out his hand, hoping the man wouldn’t sucker punch him when he did it.  “If we’re going to be hurling obscenities at each other, I’d sure like to know who to direct them at.”  He told the man.

The man with the Napoleon complex didn’t offer his hand to shake.  He just spat a stream of tobacco juice on the ground at Darrell’s feet, swiping the dribble off his chin with his shirtsleeve.  “Name’s Calvin.”  He responded, eyeing Rick’s huge frame.  He seemed to be trying to judge whether Rick would be willing to stand up in a fight for his friend.

“Calvin Klein, perchance?”  Rick snickered.  “Seriously nice outfit there bubba.”  He offered.  “Did your momma buy that for you, or was it your girlfriend?”

“I didn’t come here to be insulted.  Why don’t you call your gorilla off and we’ll go at this like gentlemen?”  Calvin snarled at Darrell.

Darrell cocked his right eyebrow and gave Calvin a squinting gaze, not blinking.  “I think we’re one gentleman short, so I guess that idea’s out.  How about you consider climbing back up in your Godzilla mobile and head on back to wherever it is you came from?”  He told the little man.

Rick seemed to have developed a keen interest in his pigsticker about that time, and Calvin seemed to rethink his position carefully.  “I don’t know what you did to get this property, but I think you’ll be wanting to sell it mighty soon.”  He threatened.

The man turned, keeping Rick to the side within his line of vision, and returned to his truck.  After a comical display of country-boy grace he managed to drag himself up into the cab of the monstrous truck.  He turned the key and revved the engine a few times before backing the truck and turning it to leave.

As the truck with its diminutive driver spun its tires down the driveway, Darrell and Rick choked with laughter.

“What say you and me go get a long cool glass of tea and see if we can keep from swallowing our tongues while we laugh our fool butts off.”  Rick suggested.

As they rode to the house in the mini-jeep, Darrell became a little more serious.  “I wonder what he thinks he can do about the property now that it’s already sold?”  He wondered.

“Don’t sell the little guy short…oops!”  Rick laughed, covering his mouth in a mock gesture of error.  “He might have a slick lawyer in white polyester pants and pointy crocodile boots that could cozy up with a judge and convince him you forced ol’ Vernon to sell it to you at a ridiculously low price.”

Darrell guffawed a little more as he poured two glasses of iced tea and handed one to Rick.  Then, after a short break, the two friends headed down into the basement to take a look at the hidden rooms.  Rick had suggested they clear the rooms of the old and outdated items and see what it would take to get them up to standard for hiding out in the event of an emergency.  Calvin’s arrival had been just the catalyst they needed to get them started on their project.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The project was interesting and quite lucrative, they discovered.  Darrell began by clearing all of the old food containers and gadgets from the food preparation and storage area.  They loaded up everything that had no immediate value to them for survival, and drove to a local antiques shop.

The bell on the door made a tinkling noise as they entered the shop, and an old man with frizzled gray hair and Ben Franklyn glasses met them as they walked across the room.  “What can I help you fellas with today?”  The man asked, looking up briefly from the chandelier he was inspecting.

Darrell offered his hand to the mousey little man for a handshake.  “I’m Darrell Griffin and this is my friend, Rick Stansforth.  We’ve come across some items we thought you might be interested in.  Care to take a look?”

The man returned Darrell’s handshake, introducing himself as Wendell Murphy.  “Go ahead and bring a few of the items inside and we’ll take a look.  How does that sound?”  Wendell told them.

They agreed, and went out to grab a couple of boxes of items they had decided the man would like.  Wendell was waiting for them behind an old shop counter, with an ancient cash register at one end.  “Just set them up here and we’ll see what you have.”  He told them.

Darrell and Rick waited while the man looked over the items in the box one at a time.  After the first two or three items, Wendell’s eyes developed a gleam, and he began to show serious interest in the contents of the box.  “These are very intriguing.”  He told them.  “I’ve never seen tins like these in such remarkable condition.  The food is still inside, as if it came out of grandma’s kitchen just today.  Where did you gentlemen find these items?”  He asked.

“Let’s just say we found a time capsule.”  Rick replied mysteriously.  “If you’re interested in what we have, there’s a lot more where that came from.”

Wendell agreed wholeheartedly.  “I’d love to see what you have found.  Some of these items are merely interesting, but others are priceless in the condition they’re in.  It looks like they’ve been waiting a hundred years for someone to come along and discover them.”

Darrell smiled.  “That’s pretty much what happened.  Let’s get the rest of this stuff in here and we can talk about price.”

As the two men walked back outside to the truck, Rick looked over at Darrell and grinned.  “See?  I told you that stuff was valuable, didn’t I?  You’re going to rake in enough cash to set up your shelter in style.”  He picked up a box of goodies to carry inside, and jerked his head to the side.  The hair moved aside, revealing a look of triumph in the steely gray-blue eyes.

Darrell agreed they had made a fortuitous find, but felt a little skeptical that it would fetch enough cash to do any major upgrades to his underground bunker.

Rick took note of the fleeting doubt on his friend’s face.  “You might be surprised.”  He told Darrell.  “Just have patience.”

It took over two hours for Wendell to inspect the items they had brought.  He took his time, looking over each piece carefully.  When he found items he had not dealt with before, he would walk over to an ancient dusty bookshelf bursting with books.  After searching the shelves for a few moments, he would return with one of the tomes, and open it carefully.  Often, Wendell found the items were rare and valuable.

“So what do you think?”  Darrell ventured.

“I think…” Wendell began, “that I’d like to get a look at the place where you found these items.”

Quickly, before Darrell had a chance to say a word, Rick said, “That’s not possible.  We can bring the items to you, but the location is private.”

Wendell looked curious, but accepted Rick’s statement.  “Just for verification, it’s not illegal, is it?  These items do belong to you, don’t they?”  He asked.

“Oh, certainly.”  Darrell replied.  “It’s just that we don’t want anyone knowing where they were found.  We’ll bring more to you at a later date if you’re interested.”

Wendell agreed wholeheartedly, begging the two men for contact information and soliciting a positive promise that they would return with more items.  They worked out a price for the entire load that was more than fair, and Rick and Darrell quickly departed with their windfall in hand.

When they were in the truck, headed for home, Darrell let out a long slow whistle.  “Man, I had no idea that stuff was so valuable.  We could refurnish the entire shelter with what we got back there.”

Rick grinned.  “Yep, I never dealt with antiques before, but I had a feeling we had happened on a goldmine.  Now, let’s get back to work.”

<><><><><><><><><>

Darrell returned from the Farmer’s Market one Tuesday in January to find Mallory glued to the television.  “I had a great day at the market, honey.  They bought every dozen of eggs I had and begged for more.  That organic feed we’ve been using makes the eggs taste absolutely fabulous and the customers can’t get enough.”  He told her.

Mallory barely looked up from the TV when Darrell came in, and didn’t seem to have heard a word he said.  “That’s nice, honey.”  She said.  “Did you know the Chinese just made a super huge deal for oil from the Middle East?  The news has been full of it all day long.  They seem to think oil prices are going to rise in the U.S. because of it.  I just don’t see what difference that can make.”

“It makes a humongous difference!”  It was Rick, who had entered right behind Darrell, who spoke.  “I was just coming over to talk to you about it.”  He told them, sounding agitated and nervous.  This was not the carefree character they were used to seeing.  Rick looked like he was in some sort of panic.  The shaggy hair, when he jerked his head and it moved away from his eyes, revealed a look of determination in their steely gray depths.

Darrell’s face held a questioning look.  “So what exactly does it mean?”  He asked.

“It means…” Rick replied, “that the U.S. will no longer have the opportunity to buy oil in such huge quantities.  It means that we’re going to have to start learning to live without many of the things we take for granted.”

Mallory laughed, but there was a look of confusion on her face.  “What do you mean do without?  What do we have to do without, Rick?  I understand gas prices will go up, but the prices have gone up many times before.”

“Oh, I wish that is all that will happen Mallory.”  Rick sighed.  “We’ll see a rise in gas prices first, but where do you think electricity comes from?”

“Coal?”  Mallory asked, looking rather self-satisfied that she had outsmarted him.

Rick agreed.  “Yes, a lot of electricity is produced with coal, and nuclear power.  But what about the fuel used to extract the coal from the ground?  The transportation from the mines to the plant?  And the fuel needed for workers to get to the job to extract the coal?  All of that will make the cost of creating electricity leap in price.  You and Darrell have installed your wind turbines and solar panels, I see.  This will help you get by, but you need to evaluate your full energy needs including anticipated future demand and consider adding more capacity before it’s impossible to do it.”

“Wow, I hadn’t considered other uses for oil.  That means we’ll be looking at increased food prices too, doesn’t it?”  Darrell asked.

Rick sat on the recliner across from Mallory, motioning to Darrell to take a seat also.  “Food prices will definitely be on the rise.”  He began.  “Food is transported by trucks across the country, and some is brought from other countries by sea.  But that’s only the half of it.  Most of our food today is produced on massive mono-farms, where giant farm machinery plants and harvests the resulting crops.  All that takes oil to power the machines.”

“So what do we do?”  Darrell asked.

“First, we carefully anticipate our need for food and other products, then we stock up before prices begin to rise and shelves begin to empty.  You’ve already made a big start Darrell, but now that you know this is coming, can you see the need for more than you have presently?”  Rick’s methods were much like a high school teacher, instructing his pupils.

Mallory’s emerald-green eyes appeared huge and dark, like an alarmed cat.  “So you think things are going to get that bad, Rick?”

“Oh, I actually think it’s going to be worse.  I was trying to drop it on you slowly so you have time to absorb the gravity of the situation.”  Rick smiled, but the look in his eyes said he was deadly serious.

Darrell took a long, ragged breath.  “Well I guess we’d better get started.  Mallory, you go through the house and make a list of all items we use on a regular basis.  I’ll call the company about installing more solar panels for us, then I’ll check on a fuel tank, or better yet two, so we can stock up some gas.”

About that time, Harley drove up outside.  He parked and hurried to the door, meeting Rick on his way out.  “Stay awhile Rick.”  He suggested.

Both men returned to the living room, gathering Darrell and Mallory for more conversation.

“Harley, old buddy.  Good to see you.  How are things at the hospital?”  Darrell asked, shaking the big man’s hand enthusiastically.

Harley smiled and returned the greeting.  “Doing just great, Darrell.  I just came by to talk a little about the news.”  He told everyone.

“We’ve been doing just that, Harley.”  Mallory told her boss.

Darrell sat on the sofa beside Mallory, indicating a seat for Harley across from him.  “Rick has finally convinced me to get serious about the survivalist thing, Harley.  We’re going to look into gas, food and electricity.  How are you set at your place?”  He asked.

“We’re well stocked on food and emergency supplies, but I’m thinking seriously about putting in a garden, and getting some livestock Darrell.”  He told his neighbor.

Darrell and Rick exchanged a glance and smiled.  “Sounds like a good idea under the circumstances.”  Rick agreed.

Darrell nodded.  “I’ll help you out with working the ground.”  He told Harley.  “I love my new tractor.”  He smiled.

As they were discussing Darrell’s tractor, and making plans for Darrell to bring it over to start Harley’s garden, another vehicle drove up.  Shortly the doorbell rang.  Mallory opened the door about the time the bell rang.  She had noticed it was her parents car in the drive.

“Mom, Dad, come on in.  We seem to be having a neighborhood meeting.”  She told them, accepting hugs from both her parents.

Frank smiled and agreed.  “It looks like it from the pack of vehicles in your driveway.”  He said.  “So what’s going on?”

Darrell stood and shook Frank’s hand, giving Jewell a squeeze and a kiss on her cheek.  “Come on in and have a seat.  We’ve been discussing the effects of the Chinese fuel deal they’ve been talking about all day.”

“That’s why we’re here.”  Frank told them.  “We wanted to get Rick’s opinion of what’s going on and what we can expect.  When we stopped by his house, Karryn told us he was over here.”

Rick briefly filled them in on what had already been discussed, bringing them up to speed.  “So the best thing you can do is be sure you’re prepared, and fill in any gaps you might be missing.”  He told them.

Frank and Jewell smiled as Rick detailed the plans of the others.  “I’ve been reading your blog, Rick.  We decided if Darrell trusts you, we couldn’t go wrong by following your advice also.  As soon as we moved in we added solar panels to the existing wind turbines on the ranch.  We’ve been working on stocking the basement with supplies, but so far we hadn’t gotten any fuel stocked up.  Do you think we should do that right away?”  He asked.

“Sure!”  Rick agreed.  “Gasoline will be the first thing to show the effects of the fuel shortage.  Later, food and household products will follow in line.”

“Well, I have something I wanted to talk with you about.”  Harley said.  “All of you.”

Rick looked at Darrell, and back at Harley.  “Ok, let’s hear it.”  He told him.

Harley hesitated, then jumped in.  “Rick, on your blog you’re always talking about invasion, predatory humans out to take what’s yours.  I think being out in the country has its benefits, but also its drawbacks too.  What if someone showed up sporting some serious firepower and overran us before we have a chance to defend ourselves?”  He asked.

Rick nodded his agreement.  “You have a point, Harley.  Right now, the general population has no idea what’s coming.  In the future, when store shelves are bare and people begin to get hungry, it’s going to be a free-for-all.  We have 320 acres between us, and that’s a lot of ground to defend.  We should be safe from many attacks just by our remote location, but if anyone discovers that we have something they want, then all bets are off.”

“So what do you suggest we do?”  Mallory queried.

Harley spoke first.  “Our first line of defense should be fencing.”  He told everyone.  “We could consider electric fencing, or razor wire at the top of a high hurricane fence.”

“Agreed.”  Rick told him.  “But I think we should keep it low-key and set the fence back from the road far enough that it won’t be visible.  Someone should be seriously planning on trespassing before they come up on the fence.”

“Good point.”  Darrell agreed.  “But that’s a mighty expensive deterrent.  How does everyone feel about splitting the cost?  We could fence all four properties instead of each one separately.  That should save us on some of the expense.”

Rick tossed his hair aside, revealing the gleaming steel-gray eyes.  “I have a relationship with a fencing contractor.  He advertises on my blog, and he just happens to have a branch right in Santa Fe.  I believe I can negotiate a substantial discount for us.”  He told them.

“It will still be an expensive undertaking, but I think everyone agrees it’s a necessary evil.”  Frank put in his agreement.

“The problem with both options is that by putting up fencing, we announce to all comers that we have something they want.  It basically ups the ante, so to speak.  If we’re going to do something of that sort, we’ll have to be prepared to defend ourselves if anyone manages to break through the fence.”  Rick told them.

Mallory looked around at her husband and her neighbors.  “I believe that if we install a fence now, we will be prepared for future difficulties.  After that is complete, we can watch the news and gauge when is the best time to consider further defensive actions.”

Rick agreed.  “Karryn could begin training some dogs to run the perimeter also.  It would take a lot of dogs to protect the entire fence line, but it would be a start.”

“Great idea, Rick.”  Frank said.  “We could also consider some web-based cameras placed in some likely locations.  Along the front portion, near the road, for example.  There are neighbors on our side of the property, but no road access.  The nearest properties to vehicular access are the east side of Rick’s and Harley’s properties.  The others are all bordering government land, and it would be unlikely that anyone would choose to gain access from those directions. ”

Rick nodded.  “Those will work as long as there is electricity and Internet.  If we use solar power, rather than grid power, and get satellite Internet we should be covered.  Satellite internet should work as long as the satellites are functional.”  He told everyone.  “So does everyone agree to the plan?  Fencing, then adding other security measures later?”

Darrell and Mallory exchanged glances, and both nodded.  “We’re all for it.”  Darrell said.

Nods and yeas around the room indicated the decision was a good one.  “Ok, then I’ll get to work on the negotiations.”  Rick told them.

The others went off to begin their respective preparations, worried yet confident they were going in the right direction.

<><><><><><><><><>

“Mom, where did you get this book?”  Gemma asked Mallory.

Mallory looked over at Gemma and found she had picked up Anna-Marie’s journal from the table where she had left it.  “It was down in the basement.  Your dad and I found it while we were digging around down there.”  She told Gemma.

“Can I read it, mom?”  Gemma asked.  “She was about my age, but the book is over a hundred years old.”

Mallory nodded.  “Yes, it was written during the time this house was originally built.  It’s a very interesting story if you want to know what life was like during that time.  You can read it, but leave it right here for me.  I enjoy looking at it sometimes myself.”

“I will, mom.”  Gemma agreed.  She was already engrossed in the pages of the ancient book, no longer aware of her mother standing near.

********************

This journal belongs to Anna-Marie Santiago

July 16, 1864

I haven’t written in here for quite some time, but Papa told me I should go on writing even though Mama is gone.  I can’t believe she’s been gone for over two months already.

Papa cries when he looks at her things, but he won’t let us get rid of them.  He says it’s wasteful to get rid of perfectly good things like that.  I just hate to see him so unhappy.  He doesn’t think I see him when he cries.  He tries to hide it from all of us.

It happened back in March, only a few weeks after we went to town and got the new furniture.  The Apaches had been raiding in the area, but we never thought they would come here.  They came and burned the barn, stealing our horses and some of our cows.

They shot Mama and killed her.  Then one of the braves rode up and grabbed Sara and pulled her up on his horse behind him.  She was screaming and begging him to let her go, but he just yelled and rode off with her behind him on the horse.

September 4, 1864

The Murphys came over last week to see how we were holding up after Mama being killed.  Papa told them everything was all right, but I could see he was trying to hold back the tears.

Mrs. Murphy baked some pie, and brought some fried chicken for us to eat.  She said it was the least she could do after our terrible loss.

Nobody talks about Sara.  I can’t imagine how terrified she is, with those savages.  Papa says they probably didn’t kill her.  People say that either one of the braves married her, or else she was given to one of the Indian women for a slave until she’s old enough to be married.

I can’t believe they would keep a live person for a slave.  But I guess it’s no different than the negroes they keep in St. Louis.  Little William cries for Mama nearly every day still.  I just don’t know what to tell him.  He’s so little, and he just doesn’t understand she’s gone.

The boys just work on the ranch, and never say much.  The two of them, and Papa eat breakfast in the morning, and don’t come back in until near dark.  I have their supper waiting for them, and they just eat it and go to sleep.

I try to keep up the housework and the gardening, and take care of little William, but sometimes it’s just too much for me.  Papa has begun taking the boys out to work in the garden some, and that helps.

October 18, 1864

Imagine my surprise when Papa went to town this week.  I stayed home with Daniel and Nathan, and took care of little William.

When Papa came home a few days later, there was a woman and a little girl with him.  He introduced her as Mrs. Packer, and the girl is named Ruthie.  She’s eight years old.

Mrs. Packer’s husband died when his horse threw him.  A snake bit the horse and it reared up and he fell, hitting his head on a stone.  She’s been alone for two years, and last month the bank took away her ranch because she hadn’t the money to make the payments.

Mrs. Packer got to work right off cooking, cleaning and helping with the garden.  Papa says as long as she works hard, she and her girl can stay.  She doesn’t say much about her husband.  I don’t think she’s really over the terrible loss.

Ruthie is nice.  She helps a lot with Willie, and he seemed to like her right off.  It helps a lot to have Mrs. Packer and her daughter here, but the boys think she’s trying to take Mama’s place and they hate her.  I don’t know what to think.  She helps around the place, and Ruthie is a good friend and a good worker, but the boys are right in a way.  Could Papa be thinking about marrying again so soon?

********************

Gemma put the journal aside, surreptitiously wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.  “Mom, the little girl was younger than me and she was stolen by Indians.  Did Indians really do that kind of thing back then?  I thought all that stuff was just in the movies.”

Mallory came and sat in a chair near her daughter.  She took her hand and looked her square in the eyes.  “That’s just how things were back then, Gemma.  You remember how your Grandma is always saying how spoiled kids are these days?  Well this more than proves it.”

“But imagine a thirteen year old girl having to take care of a house, a garden and cook for all those people.  I don’t think I could do that, mom.”  Gemma told Mallory.

“If you lived in those times, you would have learned to do it because that’s how things were back then.  That girl never knew a life like we’ve had, so she never knew any better.  It’s still sad that she lost her mother and her sister, though.

Mallory nodded.  “Maybe it will make you a little wiser to know how things could have been.”

Gemma gave her mom a hug, and ran off, leaving the journal where she had found it.  “Don’t go getting any ideas, mama.  I can still jump in the car and go shopping with Grandma, you know!”  She announced from a safe difference.

Mallory chuckled.  “Yes, you can.”  She whispered.  “I hope you can for a long time to come.”

<><><><><><><><><>

Darrell came in from the garden one evening a couple of weeks later with a confused look on his face.  “Mallory, I’m in a quandary.  Everything in the garden looks like it’s dying and I don’t know why.”  He said, sitting at the bar so he could talk to his wife while she made supper.

“What do you mean, dying?”  She asked, not looking up from her work.

“Well, the leaves are curling up and turning brown, and everything is just falling over and collapsing.”  He told her.

Mallory looked up, then.  “It sounds almost like something poisoned them.  Have you used some new chemical or any new type of product on the garden lately?”

“Now you know I don’t use chemicals on the garden, Mallory.  I just use manure from the animals to fertilize and because I’m using organic methods to raise the crops they seldom develop problems with bugs or disease.  I just don’t put anything on the plants at all.”  Darrell mused.

Mallory had stopped cooking and was just watching her husband.  “Well, it sure sounds like something got on the plants.  Maybe you should go look and see if you can find any clues in the area.”  She suggested.

Darrell rose and wandered back outside, thinking seriously about what Mallory had told him.  As he drove up to the garden, he came to a stop and stepped out of the mini-jeep, killing the engine in a single motion as he got out.

When he did, he noticed some tire tracks in the dirt.  They were huge, and appeared to be the same as the tracks left by Calvin’s monster truck from the previous month.

“No.”  He said to himself.  “The little guy wouldn’t be so hardhearted as to kill three acres of veggies, would he?”

Darrell walked down the rows of the garden, searching with new eyes.  Sure enough, there were some small footprints up and down the rows.  The prints exactly matched the little pointy-toed cowboy boots Calvin had worn when he had come for his little “visit” a while back.

“I guess I should have taken the little clown more seriously.  This looks like a deliberate act of sabotage here.”  He told himself.  Not normally a person to carry on conversations with himself, Darrell found he was confused and angry at what appeared to have transpired while he and his family had been out the previous evening.

Darrell got back in the little vehicle and headed for the house.  By the time he stopped at the front door, he was certain he knew what had happened and who was to blame.

As he walked in the front door, Darrell let the door slam behind him.  His face was red, and he appeared angry yet full of disbelief.  “I can’t believe the little squirt did it!”  He exclaimed.

“What is it, honey?”  Mallory called from the kitchen.

Darrell walked in and seated himself at the same barstool as previously.  “That little shit Calvin made good on his threats.  There are tire tracks and footprints down there that tell the dirty tale.  He actually poisoned my garden.”  Darrell seethed with anger as he spat each word out.

“How can you be sure it was him?” Mallory asked.

“Well, the tire tracks are a dead giveaway.”  He began, taking short angry breaths.  “And there are not many guys that wear a size six cowboy boot that I know.”  He continued, grabbing a handful of his own hair and pulling.

After a half a minute of angry silence, Darrell appeared to make a decision.  “Give me the phone.”  He told Mallory.  “I’m going to call the cops.”

An hour later, a nondescript blue car drove up in the driveway and two men in shirts and ties walked toward the door, ringing the bell.  Darrell answered and invited the two men inside.

They sat across from Darrell and Mallory in the living room, and interviewed the couple sympathetically.

“So, when did you first notice something seemed wrong in your garden, Mr. Griffin?”  Detective Santos asked.

Darrell explained, for the third time, that he had seen the plants looking healthy that morning and they had suddenly begun to droop in the afternoon sun.

Detective Gray looked doubtful.  “You mean they just suddenly began to die, just like that?”

Darrell went over the facts several times, then grew restless.  “Could you just come out here and take a look?”  He asked.

The two men followed him to the garden, taking photos of the tire tracks and the footprints, as well as multiple shots of the dying plants.  When they had finished, the two looked at each other and back at Darrell.

“Is there anything else you can think of?”  Detective Gray asked.

Darrell shook his head.  “No, I’ve told you everything I know.”  He said.

“Then we’ll head back to the police station to file this report.”  Detective Santos told him.  “We’ll be in touch.”

“Aren’t you going to arrest that guy?”  Darrell asked.

Detective Gray looked at Darrell and shook his head.  “There’s no actual proof this Calvin guy actually did anything to your plants, Mr. Griffin.  We’ll be in touch.  Let us know if anything else comes to mind.”

Darrell watched in disbelief as the two detectives got in their car and slowly drove off down the driveway.

Dear reader:

Thank you for purchasing another episode of Survivalist by Cirmumstance.  I intend to continue this story, adding to it every few weeks.  After six to ten episodes, depending on how the story turns out, I’ll collect them together and offer them as a full-length book.  This should save you a little cash, if you can wait that long for it to come out.

You may discuss the story, ask questions of me, the author, or find out when the next episode is intended to be complete by visiting my author page on Amazon.com.

You will also notice my story Target:  Earth, which was completed mid-July of 2012.  If you have not read it, please take a look.

As all authors will tell you, your input is very important.  I absolutely adore your emails, and crave your reviews on Amazon.  Reviews help others to determine if they would like to read the book or not.

On my author page you’ll find a blog.  Read it, too.  At times you may find offers such as I did when I was in the final stages of writing New Hope, the third in the Target:  Earth series.  Those who emailed me telling me they had done a review, were rewarded with a sneak peek at the first chapter of the book before it was released to the public.

At the time of this publication, there is an offer on my Author page requesting your input in return for a copy of an issue of your choice of this series.  Go there and answer the questions I ask and I’ll send you a copy of the third in this series.

Thank you again for reading, and please continue to check out my work.  As I said, this is not the end.

Table of Contents

Survivalist by Circumstance - Volume Four