299 Days: The Community (11 page)

They had seed potatoes. Russets and red Pontiacs. Mary Anne noted the irony of her Irish ancestors escaping a potato diet in Ireland 150 years ago and now that might be what would be feeding her and her neighbors.

She realized that she’d need seed for crops to grow in the cooler season and “root cellar crops” that would store well. She got cabbage, squash (which she hated, but others might like), and carrots. Lots and lots of carrot seed.

The clerk saw this and said, “There’s a limit on seed purchases per person.”

Mary Anne was a little embarrassed. Was she hoarding? She wanted all the seeds, but didn’t want to be seen as a “hoarder.”

“What’s the limit?” she asked.

“We kind of decide it based on each customer,” the clerk admitted. “Pick out what you’d like and then we’ll see,” she said. Normally a varying limit would be unfair, but Mary Anne trusted the store to be fair.

Mary Anne saw they had chainsaws. John had a large one and a small one, both Stihls. She knew the kind of oil to get for them. She bought a case of it. They could have all the gas in the world but without that oil to mix in it, the saws wouldn’t work. She remembered the blade lengths of John’s saws and got a spare chain for each one.

Mary Anne heard some chickens. That’s what they needed. The store had a bunch of chicks and chickens. She got twenty chicks, a few hens, and a rooster. That would supply roughly an egg a day, and the rooster and hens would produce fryers once in a while. They didn’t have a chicken coop, but John could build one. Chickens didn’t eat much and sure produced tasty protein.

Mary Anne rounded out the shopping trip with chicken feed and fertilizer.

Bobby noticed that they were attracting attention with their cases of canning supplies and huge load of seeds. People were starting to look at them like hoarders. “This is probably enough,” Bobby said to Mary Anne. “We should get going.”

Mary Anne wanted to keep getting things; she might not get a chance to come back for a while, or ever. But, she looked around, noticed it was silent in the store and that everyone was looking at them. Yep, it was time to go.

“I think I have everything on my list,” Mary Anne said.

They paid for their items. Prices hadn’t gone up there. Mary Anne thought that if she had extra seeds she’d bring them back to the store, if she could get there, and let them sell them to someone else. There was an honor system at the farm supply store. Besides, the family who owned the store had their own farm, and were largely self-sufficient. They didn’t need to rip people off to survive, so they didn’t.

Bobby loaded all the stuff into the back of his truck. The chicks were chirping. He’d never picked up a box of live, noisy things.

They had about $150 left. The farm supply store had a gas pump. “Do you have any gas?” Mary Anne asked the clerk.

“Yep,” another clerk said. “But, I’m sorry, it’s $10 a gallon. Sorry.”

“That’s OK,” Mary Anne said. She remembered they had gas cans in the chainsaw section. “Could I get a couple of gas cans and fill them up?” The clerk looked at the other customers, who didn’t seem to be objecting, and then nodded. Mary Anne got two five-gallon gas cans, the new plastic ones she didn’t like, and went out to the gas pump outside.

Between the gas cans and Bobby’s truck, it was a little under fifteen gallons. She gave the clerk $150. “Keep the change,” she said. It was the least she could do for all the extra stuff they let her buy. “We’ll be back when we can,” Mary Anne said. “I’ll try to bring some seeds back if I can.” The clerk nodded. She hoped Mary Anne would.

Bobby looked at his watch. It was 11:20 a.m. Time to head back to the rendezvous point at the gas station. It was only a few minutes away, but Bobby expected traffic or even a roadblock. He didn’t want to be late.

He got on the CB and thought he’d have some fun and tell them that they had “picked up some chicks,” which was technically true, but then he decided that this wasn’t a time for joking and causing confusion. Stay off the radio if you can, he remembered Ted saying. So Bobby simply said into the CB, “Bobby here. We’re all set. Heading to the gas station meeting place unless anyone needs any help.” Everyone radioed in that they were OK.

Chapter 84

Grocery Store

(May 8)

Wes, John, and Drew were heading toward the big grocery store in town. It looked like they weren’t the only ones with that idea. The parking lot was packed. There was a line to just get into the parking lot, so they got in the line, which wasn’t moving.

Wes didn’t want to idle his engine for an hour, waste gas, and then not be able to do any actual shopping, given that they needed to be back at the rendezvous point at noon.

Drew said, “We could just park a few blocks away and walk in. We’ll have to haul our stuff, but at least we’ll be in there.” Wes pulled out of the line and looked for street parking nearby. He found some about two blocks away. He was glad he didn’t have his AR in the truck because he would have to leave it in there when he went into the store. He had the AK underfolder concealed beneath his hunting shirt so he didn’t need an AR.

“I’ve got the cash, so let’s go,” Drew said. They got out of the truck and walked toward the grocery store. The crowd got bigger as they approached the entrance. People were antsy, and some were arguing. A fight broke out as they got to the entrance. Two women were pushing each other and arguing over something. Bystanders pulled them apart. This was going to be an interesting trip to the grocery store.

One police officer stood inside the store at the entrance. He was a young guy and looked very tired. He seemed oblivious to the women fighting, and appeared useless, but he was there to make people think things were still OK. Wes walked right past him with an illegally concealed rifle. Those kinds of laws seemed so quaint right now.

They noticed large swaths of shelves were empty. There were still some things, especially things that wouldn’t keep long. The junk food was wiped out, though. People thought they could get by long on chips and cookies?

John pulled out the list, “Beans and rice.” He headed toward the aisle they were on. He knew where they would be because this was his usual grocery store. They were pushing their way, politely, through the crowds choking each aisle. The beans and rice in five pound bags were cleaned out. There were some one-pound bags left. John started grabbing as many as he could.

“Hey! There’s a limit!” a voice yelled out.

They turned around and there was a store clerk.

“No more than five of any item,” he said angrily. He looked tired. He’d been in arguments for the past twenty-four hours with customers.

“Oh, sorry,” said John. He put back all but five of the packages of beans.

John looked at his list. “Flour and mixes.” He headed over toward that aisle.

Same thing. Large packages of flour and biscuit mix were gone. A few one-pound packages were left. John started looking at his list. “OK, gentlemen, looks like we’re not getting the staples here. We’ll get the other things, like syrup.” They got pasta sauces, jams, and lots of canned food. They were careful to limit things to five of each.

While they were getting canned beans in the Mexican food aisle, a woman was arguing with the clerk. “I’m getting five of the low-fat refried beans and five of the regular beans,” she yelled.

“They’re the same item, refried beans,” the clerk said.

“No, they’re not. They’re different!” she shouted.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” the clerk said. He held his hand up as some kind of signal. There was probably someone upstairs watching the aisles with the one-way glass to spot shoplifters. Pretty soon, some checkers came up to the woman.

“OK, OK, I’ll only get five cans of beans,” she said, obviously frightened and embarrassed. This kind of confrontation would have been amazing a week ago but seemed pretty normal now.

John ran out of the items on his list that were still available. He started to put things in that he thought people would want, and things that would store for a long time.

A clerk came up, looked in his cart at all the things, and said, “You know we have a $200 limit, right?”

Oh crap. They probably had $350 worth of food in their two carts.

Drew said sternly, which was a little out of character for him, “No, we didn’t. Was there some sign we missed?”

The clerk just glared at him and walked off.

“Let’s get out of here with our $200 of stuff,” John said. “I’ve got an idea.”

“We split up into three sets of shoppers so we have three limits?” Wes asked.

“Won’t work,” the clerk standing next to them said. “We know you three are together.” Next time, if there was a next time, they would come in separately.

In the checkout line, the checker said, “You know about the surcharge, right?”

“Nope,” John said.

“Everything is double what the shelves say,” the checker, who was nearly falling asleep, said.

“I’ll remember that when this is over and I need to find a new grocery store,” John said. The checker rolled her eyes. She’d heard that all morning.

They checked out and, once they got to the $200 limit, John said to the checker, “You guys can reshelf the rest.” She looked up and said sarcastically, “Thanks.”

“Stick your hand out,” she said to all three of them.

“Why?” Drew asked.

She had an ink stamp. “We need to stamp your hand to show you’ve been in here today. Only one trip per day.”

They stuck their hands out and got stamped with a red star. “How appropriate,” Wes muttered. But then again, the grocery store was free enterprise. If they said one trip a day, then it was one trip a day. Wes couldn’t resist asking. “Is this store policy or some government requirement?”

The clerk just stared at him and starting ringing up the next customer. She didn’t care and was exhausted. Politics really didn’t matter. Getting through her shift and getting back home with some food for her kids did.

John pushed the cart of food they picked out but couldn’t buy off to the side. Wes and Drew hated to leave all that food in the cart for re-shelving, but John seemed to know what he was doing.

They left with one overflowing shopping cart, walking by the cop who looked like he would pass out soon.

How to get that cart of food out to the truck? Wes couldn’t bring the truck up to the entrance because the parking lot was jammed. They’d have to make a few trips.

Wes grabbed a plastic bag in his left hand. “I’d take two bags, but,” he pointed to his chest where the AK was, “I need to have one hand free.” John and Drew understood.

“I’ll stay behind with the goodies,” John said. He had a revolver so he’d be OK. Drew grabbed two plastic bags and followed Wes.

Wes took the lead in the walk out to the truck. This was where they were most likely to be robbed. A pair of shifty looking young men were watching them, paying particular attention to Drew, an older guy with his hands full. Wes sensed what was going on, lifted his hunting shirt partway to show his pistol (but not his AK), and shouted, “Someone else.” The pair seemed to understand and moved along.

God, the situation was getting worse, Wes thought. The milk runs back in Pow’s neighborhood just yesterday were nowhere as dangerous as this one. Things had really gone downhill in just twenty-four hours.

The long walk to the truck with two bags of heavy groceries was starting to wind Drew. He never did things like this in his retirement. Well, former retirement. Drew realized that he had a job now: surviving. Easy things like going to the grocery store were no longer easy. He’d have to work for things like food, but he was so glad he was with his family and could be there to help them. He started to ponder how much things had changed and wondered what life would be like in the next days or however long this went on. But his main goal was to get all the food into the truck and get out alive.

Wes was briskly walking without any trouble. He was scanning all around, especially to the rear. He knew that was the most likely avenue of attack. He could feel that he was walking much more confidently than the average person. He had an AK-47 and a pistol, which helped increase confidence. He knew that bad guys would sense who was confident and who was scared, and they targeted the scared.

They got to the truck and Wes put his bag in the cab. He motioned for Drew to do the same. It was crowded, but it wouldn’t make sense to leave the bags in the bed where anyone could steal them.

“Let’s go try to get a little closer to John,” Wes said. “You can go and lead him back to where we are. I’ll follow you and keep my hands free,” Wes said patting his AK. “I’ve got you covered, Drew.” Drew had never had anyone say that to him. At least, not in reference to being covered in a gun sense.

They moved as close as they could, which was a block from the parking lot. Drew got out and went over to the store entrance to get John. Between the two of them, they got all the bags of groceries in their hands. They were glad to see Wes coming up behind them. They noticed how much more confidently Wes moved compared to everyone else in the parking lot.

They got to the truck. Wes motioned for them to put the bags in the bed. Wes moved the bags in the cab to the bed.

John said, “I know where we can get some staples, but we might not be too welcome.” He pointed a direction for Wes to drive. Off they went.

They went about six blocks to a rundown part of town. Wes looked around and didn’t see a grocery store. “Where’s the grocery store?”

John smiled.

Chapter 85

Trouble at the Tienda

(May 8)

John pointed to a Mexican tienda, a neighborhood store about the size of a convenience store.

“There?” Wes said. “Do they even sell to people like us?” Wes had a bad feeling about this.

John nodded, “Yeah, I buy stuff here all the time. The best tortillas in the world.”

Drew motioned that he’d stay with the truck. He was tired and had the least shooting experience, by far.