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By the Author of Dear Diary: It’s Me, Jessica
Find the previous chapter here.
Dear Diary,
It’s me, Jessica.
When we arrived at the aid station, there were about a dozen people gathered outside. Someone said Sean was inside with Daniel and Savannah. A few minutes later, Sean came out.
“Aye, Jack is awake. He recalls what happened to him. He made a joke about getting shot. He’s going to be fine. But Daniel says he needs rest and quiet. Jack thanks everyone for their concern, their thoughts and their prayers.”
A few people lightly clapped, others gave a thumbs up sign as they went back to doing what they were doing before.
Sean walked quickly to where Nate, Dad, Rae and I were standing.
“Rae, Jessica: Jack would like to have a word with you.”
Nate and Dad said they would go back to Nate’s to work on the logistics of building the water wheel and to meet Dad there when Rae and I were done.
Sean led us into the small aid station. The front room had shelves with some medical supplies, bed sheets for makeshift bandages, two posters on the walls. One of the internal organs of the human body, the other of the skeletal structure. There was a small desk with a camp chair and a small cot beside the desk against one wall.
Sean pulled back a curtained doorway leading into the back room.
The room was larger but not by much. The bed in the center was wooden, had a actual mattress, blankets and pillows. A folding chair and another camp chair were on either side of the bed and a small wooden table to the one side. There were small two windows, one on the back Western wall and the other on the side Southern wall.
Daniel was helping Jack into a half sitting up position while Savannah held up a glass of water for Jack to drink out of.
“Small, slow sips Jack,” Daniel said as Jack drank. “Cannot have you aspirating and dying of pneumonia after all you been through.”
After a few more sips, Jack nodded he was done.
Savannah put the water glass on the table, while Daniel gently lowered Jack back.
Upon seeing us, Daniel stood up. “Take our seats. Be easier for him to talk to you. Jack, keep it short. No State Of The Union addresses.”
After Rae and I sat down, Jack gave us a slight smile. “Hi,” he simply said in a quiet, rough voice.
Rae took his hand, “Hi back at ya.”
“Samson and the puppies-”
“We already took care of them. Samson is staying with Jessica, and I have the puppies with me. They are behaving well, getting fed, watered, and walked regularly.”
Jack looked at me, “You’re going to make Samson fat, Jessica.”
“I have cut back on the treats and am making sure to walk him.”
“My gardens-”
“Rae and I have watered them. Your jalapenos are looking good.”
“I need you to go into my basement. There are three five-gallon buckets, with lids, a cork in the middle of each lid, a length of plastic tubing coming out of the cork, and then going into a beer bottle filled with water. You should see a little air bubble come out of the plastic tubing from the bucket and then into the beer bottle filled with water every twenty to thirty seconds. That is blossom honey fermenting. If you see the bubble, that is good. No bubble, that is bad. On the opposite wall are racks of magnum wine bottles on their sides. Those are elderberry wines, aging from last fall. Check to see if the corks are still in them. Cork popped out, which means they were still fermenting, and the CO2 forced the cork out.”
“If the corks were forced out, is there anything we can do?” Rae asked.
“No. I should have done it right, but once in a while, even I mess up,” he grinned.
“The next community militia training is not for another two weeks. I hope to be there, but if I am not, tell the senior veterans to come up with a training plan, take charge, and carry out the training plan of the day. Help them out where you can.”
“We will,” Rae reassured him with a squeeze of his hand and a smile.
“Rae and I took charge of your card club. It is a lot of fun!”
“Good. Okay.” His eyes grew heavy. “I think I need to take a nap. Thank you.”
He was asleep before we left the room.
Entry two
As Rae and I left the aid station, Sean was sitting on a log in front of his shack, plucking on his banjo, and waved us over.
“How is he?” Sean asked.
“He’s sleeping. We talked about a few things he wanted us to look after, made a joke or two, and then got sleepy,” Rae answered.
“Aye. It takes more than that to remove ol’ Jack from this mortal coil. Jessica, we are meeting up with Jamal and his bunch for trade tomorrow. Jack normally goes, but he won’t be for awhile. It’s my first time going and Jamal’s met you. You are a familiar face. Would you be willing to go with us?”
I thought for a moment. Four Corners and Jamal’s group have traded a few times now, with no issues.
“Sure. I’ll bring Samson and the puppies, though. Rae, you coming?”
“I think I will.”
“Aye! We leave here in the morning for a noon meeting.”
Rae and I left Sean to find Dad. Dad was not too thrilled at the idea of us going, but I reassured him it would be fine. He still looked skeptical.
Entry three
Rae, Samson, the puppies, and I arrived in the morning.
Four Corners was already a buzz with the usual energy.
A small group of people gathered at the bridge who were going to trade. Some had garden carts, shopping carts, a kids’ wagon or two, others had packs on their backs. Mr. Miller and his flatbed were not there.
Rae and I checked our packs one last time for provisions for the day and water for ourselves, Samson, and the puppies. We also checked our rifles.
We set out shortly through the barrier and across the bridge over the river. Sean, Rae, and I were in the front. A few of the Four Corners militia were on the flanks of the group, and some were at the rear.
The hump was uneventful. As people pulled or carried items, it was an easy walk, not a forced march. It was actually relaxing as I have grown so accustomed to walking at a rapid pace. We were able to chat with Sean and others without being out of breath.
It was cooler than it had been the past few days, overcast, with gray clouds suggesting rain, maybe in the afternoon or that evening.
We arrived at the meeting place a little before noon. Most sat down, drank water, or pulled out a snack to eat. I watered Samson and the puppies and gave them a few hunks of jerky. Rae and I pulled out some green onion-sausage corn muffins and washed them down with a pull of water.
Sean ate a sandwich of rustic, thick-sliced bread, buttered, with a thick slice of ham and farm cheese he traded for that morning.
Just as we were finishing, we could see Jamal and his group coming up the road. They, too, had garden carts and shopping carts with items to trade.
As Jamal walked up to us, he smiled at me,
“Rambo, good to see you again. I see you brought devil dogs with you.” He looked down at Samson and the puppies. Samson sat but was looking intently for a dog. The puppies were on all fours, but they too were on guard.
“Samson, puppies, easy,” I ordered. The puppies sat down, but they all continued to watch.
“Jamal, it’s good to see you as well,” I smiled and offered my hand to him. “And this is the Mayor of Four Corners, Sean. This is our good friend, Rae.”
“Aye, good to meet you, Jamal.”
“Good to meet you, Mayor,” as they shook hands.
Rae gave Jamal a firm handshake. Jamal looked down as they shook. “What is in the water at Four Corners that seems to make such strong women?”
“Oh, honey,” Rae said in her deep southern accent and smiled. “That has always been there.”
Jamal chuckled as they broke their handshake. Around us, the two groups intermingled, looking for who had what to trade. A few from both groups knew each other from previous trade meetings, while others were new. It did not take long before trades were being made, and the energy became more relaxed; some even engaged in small talk. Others discussed future trade of items, wares, and food.
Jamal and Sean exchanged news. Sean talked about the visit from the governor and her story. The return of the gang, but Sean left out that Jack was badly hurt and said he sprained an ankle, and would be laid up for a few days.
“We had a group show up a day ago, on horseback, with some wagons.”
“Religious people,” I asked, concerned it was the remains of the cult we fought with.
“No. Nomads, looking to trade.”
“How many?”
“Oh, I would say thirty or so. Most of the men were on horseback, but a few women too. They had a flock of sheep, goats, a dozen or so cattle. Chickens, geese, and ducks were in cages as they traveled. Horses they rode and used to pull their wagons. Guarded and well armed, but friendly enough to do business with.
“Body armor? Machine guns? Radios?”
“Nothing like that. Mostly light semi-automatic weapons like what we have. Some lever-action rifles. A few shotguns.”
I nodded.
“Had these funny round tents they put up in minutes. They set up pens for the livestock in minutes, too, for the evening. They set up in one of the nearby parks for the livestock to graze. It was like a small town on horseback popping up in less than an hour. It was amazing to see. Heads up, though, they were asking about a bridge over a river that way,” Jamal nodded past our shoulders toward Four Corners.
“You think they could be a threat?” Sean asked seriously.
Jamal thought for a moment.
“Unless something changes, the sense I get is they are heading for some place. I did not mention Four Corners, but said we heard there were communities out this way. I did say we had some come to the city looking to trade. That seemed to put them more at ease. I can have our HAM guy keep your HAM guy in the loop, let him know when they leave and what direction they were heading.”
“Aye, Jamal. Be much appreciated.”
Entry four
At the end of the hour, everyone appeared to have finished their business and were ready to make the trip back home. We thanked Jamal and promised to keep each other informed through the HAM guys.
“What do you think?” Sean said to no one in particular.
“They don’t sound hostile. They’re looking to trade. Being hostile is bad for business,” Rae offered.
“Aye. There is that.”
“They are not the gang,” I said. “They have their entire lives on horseback, in wagons, and moving their food sources with them. They are very exposed. The gang wanted to take and dominate. The cult wanted to take and dominate. Rae is right. This group is looking to trade for what they don’t have.”
Sean nodded and looked thoughtful.
“But,” I continued, “If they do come, and I think we should plan as if they would, it would be only smart to be, as Jack would put it, at the ready. We have an elevated position at the barrier and chute at the bridge. We could,” I nodded to Rae, “bring the community militia just for numbers. That alone would give us a nearly three-to-one advantage. They would never get past the bridge and start a fight inside Four Corners? They would be surrounded. They might get off a few shots before someone shot them in the back.”
“Jessica,” Rae said, “Now we are looking like the hostile ones.”
“Just saying there is nothing wrong with preparing as much as we can for the unknown.”
“Aye. You are both right. We will be ready. If they come through, just as we did with the governor, we will meet with them and talk. Then decide.”
About 1stMarineJarHead
1stMarineJarHead is not only a former Marine, but also a former EMT-B, Wilderness EMT (courtesy of NOLS), and volunteer firefighter.
He currently resides in the great white (i.e. snowy) Northeast with his wife and dogs. He raises chickens, rabbits, goats, occasionally hogs, cows and sometimes ducks. He grows various veggies and has a weird fondness for rutabagas. He enjoys reading, writing, cooking from scratch, making charcuterie, target shooting, and is currently expanding his woodworking skills.
2 Responses
I like the last chapter here feature. After 2 weeks, I always need that brush-up.
It was good to read that Jack is recovering from his wound. Keep up the great writing and looking forward to the next installment.