Sharecropping The Apocalypse: A Prepper is Cast Adrift (32 page)

BOOK: Sharecropping The Apocalypse: A Prepper is Cast Adrift
3.25Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“Guess this here is rightly yours, but with everything we going to do for you, you should be more sharing and grateful.” Clem said slapping it back into his hand.

“Well what exactly is it I am supposed to be grateful for?” Loomis said relishing the thought that he got his chaw back and could have some now.

“Well, first off be grateful you could offer me some more chewing tabbacy, next would be I got an ice cream suit that would fit you just fine and ain`t charging you for it by doing so.” Clem said snatching back the tin and helping himself before returning it to an astonished Loomis.

“I got to ask, what the hell is an “Ice Cream suit”? Crick said grinning at Loomis’s discomfort.

“Oh, you know back in the day some folks used to look like Colonel Sanders of the fried chicken franchise fame and when me and Bertha went through them trunks in the attic of the big house I told her them suits were too fine cut up and make pillow shams out of. Don’t worry you just need to wear the jacket not the whole suit unless you just want to.” Clem said before they arrived at his house.

“Hey, I appreciate the hospitality and you offering us dinner and all but we need to talk about leaving out soon after and getting on the road.” Loomis said.

“Why? You got a fire to go to or something? We due at Bertha’s in a couple hours, takes time to kill and cook a couple chickens. You boys haven’t been eating regular and time you eat that feast Bertha is fixing you won’t be fit for nothing but sitting on the porch and having a sip of apple jack with me. Leave out in the morning. I will get Bertha to fix you a breakfast of grits and gravy and some scrambled eggs. You never did tell me what it was you had planned now that you managed to get over to this side of the river.” Clem said looking over at Crick

“Well like I said it all depends on what kind of help I can round up and if the phones are working. When I get home I am going to lend Loomis a horse so he can make his way back to his place. There is no gas to be had as I explained to you so that’s the best transport for him to have. Loomis here rode scout for the Alabama wagon train for many years so a couple days hard riding won’t bother him a bit.” Crick explained.

“What is the Alabama Wagon Train?” Clem asked and motioned for them to walk over to a barn off to the left.

“That used to be an event where people rode old-timey covered wagons and carts down at the historic reenactments.

 

 

 

“So you are a real cowboy then? Ha, wait until I tell Bertha. There’s that bike I told you about. My son sort of customized it after seeing’ an old James Dean motorcycle greaser movie and made it up as his very own imaginary custom-built chopper. There is a hand pump over there. I know them tires probably need airing up.” Clem said pointing at a rusty old banana seated Stingray bicycle.

“Let see what we got here.” Crick said examining the bike.  Evidently someone had taken the forks off one bike and added them to the existing forks of this one to extend it out a foot or so.  It had playing cards stuck in the spokes that Crick would remove the first chance he had.

“Ha! Ha! You going to look pretty riding that thing Crick!” Loomis said imagining a funny mental picture of Crick peddling along holding onto those ape hanger handle bars and looking like Easy Rider.

“What the hell is that over there?” Crick said ignoring the jibe and looking back at the end of the barn at what appeared to be a very old tractor with paddle wheels like you would see on an old steam boat attached to its wheels.

“That there boys is a product of some more redneck ingenuity. It’s a swamp logger. Made it myself.  Me and the boys around here used to take that thing out to Foleys swamp to cut Cyprus trees to carry down to the mill. I used a couple of them steel hay cages you see in cow pastures sometimes  for the rings and them boards came off of the teeter totter set at the old school house. It don’t run no more though or I would lend it to you.” Clem said as he proudly walked over to it to show off his back woods craftsmanship.

“Now that’s cool as hell! And it floats?” Crick said momentarily forgetting the bike and studying the contraption while a plan started to formulate in his mind.

“You could run that contraption either way but yea, it floats. I put-putted it and paddled it across many a pond.  Steering it around is slow and clumsy and takes a dang football field of water to turn it around but it got me where I needed to go.” Clem said watching Crick climb up on the seat to get a feel for the thing.

“Are you thinking what I am thinking Loomis?” Crick said, grasping the tractors steering wheel and jiggling himself back and forth side to side as if he was driving.

“Yea, I am but Clem said that paddle wheel tractor don’t run. It sure would have been cool to drive that across the river and surprise everyone. Wouldn’t that be a sight!” Loomis said, patting the big tractor tire.

“Oh yea, you talking about rescuing your friends. That old tractor would of done it back in its day. Heads blown and won’t crank up no more so it won’t do you no good. We could of gone down to the old crossing and towed that pontoon barge they used all the way across and loaded them folks up and brought them back.” Clem said, wishing he could have gone on that adventure.

“I got a tractor!” Crick said scrambling off the tractor and studying the wheel wells on the tires to see how Clem had attached the paddles on.

“Well they just bolt on, don’t know if your tractors bolt pattern would match but I could probably alter it a mite to make them fit if need be. You thinking about driving your tractor back over here and giving what I said a try?” Clem said looking like Popeye excitedly chewing spinach as he wore out the chewing tobacco puffing out his cheek thinking about all the possibilities of going on a great and glorious adventure.

“ Hell yea! How much you want for these paddle wheels?” Crick said looking at Clem excitedly as Loomis also studied him in anticipation.

“Now that’s a million dollar question. Just kidding, guys. What would I take for them? Can me and Bertha go and watch you drive that thing?” Clem asked slyly.

“Well uh, I guess you could. I can jump start your truck when I get back. I can also bring you a little gas to make the trip with. Sure why not, it’s only fitting that the inventor gets to see his creations in motion.” Crick said shaking hands with Clem and making him preen like a peacock at the praise for him.

“Hot Damn! Let’s hurry up and get dressed for supper. Bertha is going to bust her bonnet when she finds out what we’re fixing to do. By the way, Bertha’s bonnets tend to be more fancy than anybody else’s, we’re supposed to notice that. Ya’ll remember that, you hear? We going to go down early for dinner but not until I know she got everything on the stovetop. That damn Rossi Ross can kill and pluck them chickens. Oh hell, we can’t say nothing around that girl. She would tell that bat brained mother of hers and lord knows who else. Even if I swore her to secrecy on a stack of bibles she would still want to come along.” Clem said beside himself with wanting to run down and tell Bertha immediately the great news and frustrated beyond belief because he couldn’t.

“Rescuing folks ain`t no spectator sport but we might could use some help.” Loomis said speculating.

“Oh you don’t want none them riff raff river rat trash that lives around here helping you with nothing unless you want your pockets lightened. Hey you said you were going to go try to get the authorities to help you. Does that mean I might not get to see my invention in action?” Clem said, crestfallen at the notion.

“Well not necessarily. Like I said, I don’t know if there are still any authorities to call upon. I am certainly going to try and find some professional rescuers or responders available but I have my doubts.” Crick advised.

“Whew! Still a chance then. Hey I got an old hay wagon that’s still serviceable. Is that horse of yours broke to traces? You are going to have to transport them people somehow once you get them over to this other side of the waterway if you can’t find no authorities to do it for you. We could go get the benches out of the old church and put them in the wagon to tote a bunch of folks at once. Don’t tell Bertha I said this but I have my doubts if that mule of hers could pull that wagon all the way out of the half-mile to the driveway without falling out.” Clem said grinning. Clem hadn’t bothered to mention to Crick that it was about a half-mile up to the driveway the way country folks measured and ‘bout another mile up to the main road.

“Now that sounds like a great idea. You know Clem, Crick didn’t get a chance to tell you this but I had planned on rounding up as many of the drivers of the Alabama Wagon train as I could and doing the state run one more big time. Several of those people stuck out on the island are members of the wagon train so finding folks to volunteer to help get them home shouldn’t be a problem.” Loomis told him as Clem fidgeted around wanting to go get dressed for dinner but needing to hear more about this magnificent adventure unfolding in his mind.

“I told him that a wagon train was a cool idea to transport folks home without the need for gas but it wouldn’t be a good idea for him to want to scout for it again like he used to. He might be liable to come under Indian attack the way things are now a days.” Crick said looking over at Loomis.

“Indians? What kind of Indians? You mean like the ones that rode around in a circle attacking the settlers on the old Saturday afternoon western movies?” Clem said confused.

“Yea but these Indians are liable to have AK 47 rifles. Times are crazy out there even if I haven’t seen it firsthand myself yet. You and Bertha are danged lucky to be living on this old plantation and having livestock. People in the cities won’t be able to get food or heat without electricity.” Crick informed him.

“Imagine that? Me and Bertha are lucky to be nothing more than caretaking poor dirt farmers these days. Times are indeed strange. Hey Crick if you do need to buy my paddle wheels you can have them for whatever food you can find to trade. You set the price. We do pretty good out here without much store bought goods but we still need them  things.” Clem said hopeful he could at least get some coffee, flour and sugar out of the trade.

“I can fix you up a bit of supplies, Clem. I have a pretty good size pantry stocked for hurricanes and such.” Crick advised.

“Thanks, don’t have to be a lot. What are you going to feed them folks on the island when they get off?” Clem said looking off towards the direction of the river.

“Good question. I have a few sacks of feed corn and barley. Maybe a hundred pounds of beans. Other than that I really don’t know. There is no food on that island, folks will be better off on the mainland no matter what we do. That’s the whole idea of running the Alabama Wagon train and getting the authority’s involved. We need to get most of them folks back home where they got some supplies and friends to help them out. The ones who can’t get home for whatever reason are going to have to depend on the kindness of others or the government to help them.” Crick said lamenting the fact that he didn’t have an answer for that question.

“I thought you said nobody could get food out of the grocery store anymore? Even if some of them folks do get home, what are they going to do in a week or two when they run out of vittles and can goods?” Clem asked trying to understand the current state of the world.

“I did say most folks would perish because they couldn’t buy food or get clean water anymore but this group of friends is different than most people. A lot of them planned for a disaster like this and have anywhere from two weeks to two years food and supplies put back to see them through the trials and tribulations of these hard times. The ones with less food have camping supplies and plan on trying their hand at living off the land some until they can get someplace better.” Crick advised.

“You must have a farm yourself Crick, what with having a horse and a tractor and all.  Are you going to take some of those rich folks home with you so they can have a better place to live?” Clem asked studying him

“What makes you think they are rich folks, Clem?” Loomis asked already knowing the answer.

“Well you said some of them had a whole bunch of food and tents and such looking for a better place to live and I can’t think of nowhere better than a working farm to be staying at if the grocery stores are all closed.” Clem reasoned.

“Smarter words were never said. Yea I might take in a couple people temporarily but my acreage is really small and it’s more of a hobby farm than anything else.” Crick said wistfully.

“Is that feed corn you got cracked or whole?” Clem said drawing a circle with his boot in the dirt in front of the barn.

“It’s whole. I have a mill though.” Crick answered watching Clem start to pace going deep in thought about something.

“Them poorer folks that are going to be moving to the woods when their food runs out. Are they uppity city folks that are scared to get their hands dirty or are they just plain people down on their luck?” Clem asked speculatively.

“No they understand how much hard work is required to just survive. I bet anyone on that island now has lost any fool notions they had of bugging out after the first week of getting stuck there. Bugging out is just a slang word for having to leave somewhere and having to go somewhere else to live and camping if you have to.” Loomis said watching how the word confused Clem.

“I got ya, we called that riding the rails or going hobo back in my day. So where do these people plan on “bugging out” to? A hobo goes city to city looking for work or a hand out. If nobody wants to live in the cities no more where are they all going to go? Campground to camp ground looking for work like migrant farm workers?”  Clem said looking over hundreds of acres of unworked fields.

Other books

Black Market by Donald E. Zlotnik
Aisling Gayle by Geraldine O'Neill
The Wicked Day by Christopher Bunn
In Dubious Battle by John Steinbeck
Iron (The Warding Book 1) by Robin L. Cole
Night World 1 by L.J. Smith
Listen! by Frances Itani
Best Food Writing 2013 by Holly Hughes
Moon over Maalaea Bay by H. L. Wegley