Dear Diary: It’s Me, Jessica: Chapter 2 (Book 3)

By the author of Dear Diary: It’s Me, Jessica

In case you missed the last chapter, you can find it here.

Dear Diary,

It is me, Jessica.

Dad had his engineering class come up with an interesting project.  

They hauled a refrigerator out of one of the abandoned homes, put it up on three upended logs about three feet standing.  Dad found an old metal trash can, and cleaned it out good.  He then had the class cut it in half using a hacksaw.  Even with the class rotating in and out when they got tired, it still took them about an hour to cut it.  Meanwhile, Dad had another team cut a six-inch hole in the trash can lid, and another team dug a hole big enough to fit the bottom half of the trash can in.  While they were doing that, Dad took out a length of six-inch HVAC pipe from the abandoned house.  He then cut a hole in the side of the refrigerator near the bottom and one in the top.  Dad put some dirt in the bottom of the trash can, put the lid back on, and started a fire in it.  Once it got the fire going, he put the lid on and connected the hole in the top of the lid to the hole in the bottom side of the refrigerator with the HVAC pipe.

Dad and his class made a smoker out of a refrigerator and a trash can.

“If I can get some more fire brick, I could line the trash can with it and make it into a bean pole cooker,” he observed as we all watched the smoke come out of the top of the refrigerator.

“What is a bean pole cooker?” I asked.

“Back in the old days, they would dig a hole, build a good-sized fire in it, let it burn down to coals, and put a Dutch Oven in it.  Put some of the coals on the Dutch Oven lid and slow-cook the food.  The fire brick would make it that much more efficient.  Give us another option of how to cook food.”

“HAM Guy could contact Jamal and see if they could find some to trade for.”

“Actually, I was thinking about that hardware store we went to, to the East,” Dad said with his head slightly cocked to one side.

“The one we had to hide out in during the tornado?”

“Yes.”  Dad had his thinking face on.  “I’d like to do a little shopping.”

Entry two

After the troubles we had while in the city with the gang attack and the mob, Dad did not want to risk Mr. Miller, his wagon, and his Percherons.  He thought Katie and her men would be faster, and their ability to shoot on horseback would be a better choice.  Dad ran the idea past Jack at dinner that night.  Jack agreed.  We would not be able to bring back as much if we used the massive Percherons and the wagon, but with the pull-behind cart and the saddle bags, we could get a decent amount of supplies.  

The next day, I rode out to Katie’s encampment to see if they would be willing to make the trip.  Dad told me to offer in trade to make them a refrigerator-trashcan smoker.  

“He made a smoker out of a refrigerator and a trash can?”  Katie blinked a few times and then started laughing.  “The man is brilliant.  He has a deal!  Come here this evening, have dinner with us, stay the night.  We will leave at first light tomorrow.”

I rode back home to tell Dad Katie agreed, and we were to go to them for dinner and the night for a first light departure.  Dad nodded and started to get things together for the trip.  I rode over to Jack’s to tell him and I figured he would come with.  

“Sounds good,” he nodded.  “Let’s get Rae too.  She can ride one of Katie’s horses and she can shoot.  Your Dad, Rae, and I will ride in the pull-behind cart to Katie’s today.  Samson and the puppies will come alongside.  We will be at your place later.  I will bring the tents.  Pack what you need for two days on the road, just in case.  Weapons and ammo too.”

With my horse pulling the cart carrying three people, all our gear and supplies, I set out at an easy walk.  It took longer than when I rode out to Katie’s encampment by myself, but I did not want to tire my horse, knowing the next day we would be on the road.  Rae said that was good thinking.  

“What she,” Jack nodded to Rae, “said.”

Dad just nodded.

Dinner at Katie’s encampment was very different than at our place.  It was much more formal.  Everyone had only what I could call duties, tasks, and then when dinner was done, everyone sat down and ate at the same time.  

At our place, when something was done, we ate it.  Little here, little there as it came out of the oven, or from a Dutch Oven.  This was much more set in time.  It seemed more organized but at the same time, almost like a set schedule.  Not sure if I like it or not.  Even after dinner was the same – everyone had a duty or task.  Dad, Jack, Rae, and I offered to help, but Katie said we were ‘guests’ and should stay out of the way.  We would only interfere with the ‘flow.’

Dad and I slept in one of Jack’s tents with Samson at my side.  Jack and Rae slept in the other with the puppies.  

Diary, I am not sure of it, but I think I heard Rae’s laugh just before I fell asleep.  

Entry three

He is such a bad influence.  Jack that is.  I woke up on my own at pre-dawn twilight.  Sensing my awakening, Samson sat up and gave me a big doggy kiss.  Dad was still asleep, snoring lightly.  Samson and I quietly slipped out of the tent.  It would be another hour or so before Dad and the rest of the camp would be up.  

I was not surprised to find Jack was already awake and out of the tent with the puppies.  He was talking quietly with the night watch as they tended a fire.  Jack brought a bag of coffee he traded with Jamal for some of his home brew.  It smelled fantastic.

They all turned as I walked up.

“Good morning,” Jack said.  “How did you sleep?”

“Good morning.  I slept well.  Did I hear Rae laugh last night?”

Diary, I do not know why I asked so directly.  It just came out.

“Uh, I do not know.  Coffee is ready,” Jack said, and suddenly turned to press the plunger on the French press.  Some of the night watch chuckled or smiled behind their hands.  

Something was up.

“Uh, there is fresh cream over there,” Jack nodded over my shoulder.

“Right, Jack,” I said with a sly smile.  

He took a pull of the hot coffee and turned to look at the fire.  Samson and the puppies sat down next to him as I got some cream for my coffee.  I never knew how good fresh cream was till now.  Especially in good coffee.

When I returned to the fire with my coffee, I asked Jack what he thought of the trip to the hardware store.  He turned to his usual militia leader self, all business.

“We did not see any indications or warnings of hostiles like we did in the city.  But we should not let our guard down.  Keep a sharp eye out at all times.”

“On it, Jack,” I said with all seriousness.  

“Good.  Okay, let’s get your Dad and Rae up.  First light is coming.  Others are waking to prepare fires for breakfast.”

“On it, Jack.  I will wake Dad.  Will you wake Rae?”  I asked with another sly smile.

“Uh, yeah.  Sure.  Samson, the puppies, and I will get her up.”

“Right, Jack.”

About 1stMarineJarHead

1^stMarineJarHead 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.