299 Days: The Community (10 page)

Mark pointed to his shotgun that was in the cab of the truck. Rich nodded. Scotty had thrown a jacket over his AR, which was between his legs. Scotty was glad that Mark had a “duck” gun in the cab of his truck instead of a tricked out SWAT shotgun. The duck gun looked much less threatening to the law, or whatever Rich was right now.

Rich said, “We hear things are pretty rough in town. Not full-on violent, just very tense. In fact, I’m surprised the stores are open, but they are. Most, anyway. Even some of the gas stations. My former colleagues,” Rich meant the sheriff’s department, “are pretty much gone. They’ve been working nonstop for several days. Most are back with their families. The single guys are sitting in grocery stores and trying to stop fights. There’s no law anymore.” Rich wanted to say more, but didn’t.

“There’s no law anymore” rang in Mark and Scotty’s ears. It sounded so weird for someone to say that.

Mark nodded. They needed to get going. “We’ll see you in a few hours.”

Rich said, “Beware of the Mexican gangs. They’ve always kept to themselves, but I’m hearing that they are starting to get aggressive now.” Frederickson, like many towns in the West, had a sizable Mexican population. The vast majority were hardworking families, but in every group there were always a few bad apples. The Mexican gangs were tolerated by the law-abiding Mexican populations, and the cops tolerated them too, making lots of “donut money” on the side for looking the other way. This is why Rich and all the decent cops had left the force.

“Will do,” Mark said. He looked at Scotty, who nodded. Mark waved and Rich gave the signal to move the car. A man jumped in and drove a few feet forward, opening up the bridge for traffic. The Over Road trucks drove past, each driver making sure to make eye contact with the guards and wave. Rich was writing down their license plate numbers on a clipboard.

Chapter 82

Drug Store and Gas

(May 8)

There was more traffic on the road to Frederickson than there had been on the previous day; quite a bit more traffic coming from Frederickson toward the other little communities on the water, like Pierce Point. There were at least a dozen of these communities, all with varying mixtures of full timers and cabin people. It seemed that quite a few cabin people had the same idea as the Matsons, and they were bringing out their friends and relatives.

As they went toward the outskirts of Frederickson, Mark motioned for Scotty to give him the CB. He said into the CB, “Pow, you’re the only truck who doesn’t have a local riding who can tell the driver where the store is. Follow me and I’ll get you to the drug store.”

“Roger that,” Pow replied. That was a little “military” for Mark’s taste, but he was sure glad those boys were along for the ride. This ride into town was the most danger Mark had been in since the Marine Corps. He was glad to have well-armed back up.

They were going by a gas station at the time, so Mark said, “Meet back at this gas station at noon.” That gave them two hours to get their stuff. Scotty motioned to have the CB.

“Bring your handheld CB with you,” Scotty said. They were small enough to fit in a big pocket.

Pow got on the CB and said, “Don’t hold them in your hands when you’re walking around. People will want to steal them and you can’t draw with your hands full.” That alarmed Lisa, but she was getting used to these kinds of conversations.

Wes, John, and Drew were the first to peel off. They headed toward the big grocery store in town. Next, Bobby and Mary Anne went to the farm supply store. Pow followed Mark to the drug store. The CBs were quiet.

Mark got Pow to the drug store and said on the CB, “There it is.”

“Thanks,” Pow said. “We got it from here.”

Mark and Scotty headed out to the big store with sporting goods and hardware. It was like a mini Wal-Mart, but locally owned.

Pow got out of the Hummer, looked around, and then opened Lisa’s door. He looked like a Secret Service agent, except he didn’t have a suit and earpiece.

The place looked OK. They went in. At the entrance was a rent-a-cop with a gun on his belt. Pow had never seen one with a gun; most rent-a-cops just had radios. There was a sign by the rent-a-cop that said, “No Prescriptions.” Pow greeted the rent-a-cop and kept walking.

The drug store was crowded. People were acting semi-normally, filling up their carts. Some seemed a little tense, but it was a lot more normal in there than Pow expected. It seemed about right to Lisa, who hadn’t had had the same experience Pow had in the drug store with Mrs. Nguyen.

Lisa went to the first aid aisles. The store still had most things. The junk food and sexual products aisles were pretty bare, but they still had first aid supplies. The grasshoppers had priorities.

Lisa started putting bandages, gauze, rubbing alcohol, burn cream, and similar items in her cart. She was just grabbing all they had. She had no idea what it would cost, but she had $500 and was going to use it. Maybe for the last time.

She went to the over-the-counter medicine aisle and got all the anti-diarrheals and electrolytes she could. Lisa remembered a doctor friend of hers who went to help after the Haitian earthquake. Her friend told her that when essential services are gone, most of the deaths are from the diarrhea that comes from water-borne illnesses. Of course, this could be completely preventable with a few cents worth of anti-diarrheals and electrolytes.

Lisa got all the pain relievers she could. Pow kept an eye on her and the other people in the aisle. He would periodically check around corners to make sure no one was lurking. It was probably overkill, but he didn’t want to come back to Grant and explain why his wife had been killed. Besides, Pow was really good at all this tactical stuff, and he wanted to use his skills.

When Lisa had a full cart, Pow got out the list the guys had made. He got shaving supplies, deodorant, shampoo, toothbrushes, and toothpaste.

While he was doing that, Lisa went over to the feminine aisle. She saw Pow and asked, “could you get another cart?” He brought one to her and she filled the second cart with feminine products. She couldn’t imagine being without those, and they might not be able to go to the store for a while.

Lisa and Pow checked and rechecked their lists. For the first time, they looked at the prices. They hadn’t seemed to have gone up yet. The store’s pricing computers were probably hard to change for thousands of products, so the prices remained the same.

“Got everything?” Lisa asked Pow.

“Yep. You?” he asked.

“Yep,” she said.

They headed to the checkout. There was a line, but not an abnormally long one. Pow couldn’t look at the tampons in the cart. He swore that if anyone gave him shit about it, he’d shoot them. He just might. He laughed at himself for being so stupid.

The bill came to $217.

“Plus the 50% surcharge” the checker said.

“The what?” Lisa asked.

“The surcharge,” the checker said. She’d been explaining this all morning and some of the people were getting angry. The rent-a-cop perked up.

“We can’t change all the prices in the computer fast enough,” the checker said, “so we have a surcharge at final check out.”

Even with a 50% surcharge, this was still a bargain. Lisa motioned for Pow to shield her from view, which got the rent-a-cop, fearing she was pulling a gun, to stand up out of his foldable chair. Pow motioned to him that things were cool and said, “She’s just counting the money.”

Lisa, using Pow as a shield, hid the bills she was counting out; there was no need for someone to see the wad of cash and try to rob her. She rolled up the four $100 bills in her hand and handed them to the clerk, whose eyes got big. She’d been seeing lots of cash this morning, but four $100 bills was still a lot of money.

Without thinking, the clerk said out loud, for everyone to hear, “Out of $400.” Lisa and Pow cringed. “Shut up!” they wanted to say to her. They got their change.

Pow was in full ready mode. People knew they had some money and they had two carts to wheel out to the car. This was the prime time to be attacked. They wheeled the carts slowly to the Hummer. Pow walked around the car once to make sure no one was lurking. Again, overkill. But this was not the time to be worried about whether people think you’re overdoing it. This was the time to come back home alive and with your stuff.

They loaded the items into the Hummer and Lisa looked at her list. “How about some gas?” she asked. Pow looked at his gas gauge. He was at a half tank. He had a big tank, but his Hummer wasn’t exactly fuel efficient.

“Sure,” he said. Filling up would probably eat up the rest of the money. They found a gas station nearby. It had a line about eight cars long. People seemed more calm than they were in Olympia when Pow and Lisa left there yesterday. Still, Pow had his concealed Glock and an AR in the Hummer.

While they were waiting, Pow got out of the Hummer so he could see all angles better. He was scanning everyone, looking for sketchy people and any trouble. He felt like it would be more polite to stay in the Hummer and make small talk with Lisa, but he had a job to do. They’d have days or weeks or whatever to talk back at the cabin. Lisa was quiet, sitting in the passenger side trying not to make eye contact with people.

It was finally their turn at the pump. The handwritten sign said, “Pre Pay Inside. Cash.” This created a dilemma. Would Pow go in and leave Lisa and the stuff, including the AR, there? Or would Lisa have to go in with the cash? Pow decided that they would both go in. He motioned for her to follow him. He made sure the Hummer was locked.

They went into the store where an Arabic man said, “Cash. $15 a gallon. What pump number?” Lisa got out the almost $200 she had and said, “Fill up on pump…”

Pow finished the sentence, “Three.” Lisa put all that money on the counter. It looked weird paying that much for a half tank of gas.

They left quickly, because Pow wanted to be back with his AR. He thought about how gas was $10 a gallon yesterday and $15 today. This wasn’t good. The gas station owner thought he was a brilliant businessman for selling gas at $15 a gallon.

Pow and Lisa filled up as quickly as they could. Their money got them about twelve gallons; enough to get Pow to almost full. They zoomed out of there. Pow felt so much better with that gas gauge needle near “F.” He navigated his way back to the rendezvous gas station. It was 11:10 a.m. They had a while to wait. He got on the CB and told the others where he was and that he could help them, if necessary. Except that he didn’t know how to get where they were. He made a mental note that if they went into town again, or anywhere else, they would need to have someone in each vehicle who knew their way around. There was no doubt that getting lost could get someone killed.

Chapter 83

Picking Up Chicks

(May 8)

Mary Anne and Bobby went to the farm supply store. She went there a few times a year. It was owned by a nice family.

The parking lot was full, and there were plenty of people there, but everyone was polite. There were no armed guards. Bobby saw a few of the shoppers with revolvers tucked in their belts, only semi-concealed. The farm store seemed much safer than the grocery store and gas stations Bobby had been to in Olympia on the previous milk runs.

Mary Anne hoped the farm supply store would have canning supplies and seeds. Sure enough, they had some. Lots, in fact.

She started with the canning supplies. She had a Presto canner from Wal-Mart and it was OK, but she knew she’d be canning large quantities this summer and fall. Lots of salmon, clams, and oysters and then fruits and vegetables.

She couldn’t believe they still had pressure cookers. She got two of the All Americans, the twenty-one quart ones without a rubber gasket, so they would last a lifetime. They weren’t cheap, but this was no time to save cash…which would probably be worthless pretty soon, anyway.

She had some canning jars at home, but not nearly enough, so she got three cases of quart jars and five cases of pint jars, which was about half of what they had in stock.

Mary Anne realized how important canning lids were so she got 200 of each size lid. She remembered that Mrs. Roth, an elderly lady in Pierce Point, had a bunch of canning supplies that she never used. She would go see Mrs. Roth later and ask to have the lids in exchange for some of the canned food they made.

“Do you have any more of these?” Mary Anne asked the clerk.

“There’s a limit on items per person,” she said. Mary Anne vaguely recognized her as one of the owners’ daughters.

The clerk thought a while. No one was really buying the canning supplies. Most of the customers at the farm supply store already had canning supplies. She figured Mary Anne could have about half of what they had in stock. “You’re OK with the stuff you have,” she said.

On to the seeds. The best selection of seeds was available a few months earlier, but it was early May and they still had plenty to choose from.

“These are heirlooms, right?” Mary Anne asked the clerk.

“Most of them are,” she said. “The non-heirlooms are marked on the packages as ‘hybrid.’”

Mary Anne knew heirloom seeds were the kind to get, as they would produce fertile seeds in the next crop, and the seeds would continue to produce with seeds for the next season, and then the next. Non-heirloom seeds were good for only one season. Hybrids were better than nothing, but not the sustainability Mary Anne wanted.

Mary Anne started putting lots of seeds in her cart. She would get “calorie crops,” things that grew the maximum calories. There would be no fancy gourmet crops this year. The years of gourmet meals were over in America, at least for most people. She picked out lima beans and crowder-type shelling peas.

While not “calorie crops,” she got plenty of tomatoes and onions. She even got lettuce, although it might not grow very well in Western Washington. It would probably do OK, it just wouldn’t be a staple like the next thing on her list, which was potatoes.