“This’s really lovely. Have they had any problems with flooding, you know, from hurricanes?” the woman asked, her head turning around on a swivel, trying to take everything in at once.
“Jessy, this house is well above sea-level,” Beverly said, grinning, “and as you saw outside, it sits on ten-foot support structures. The windows are hurricane proof with lovely shutters. The roof is also hurricane rated and very secure. Jessy, this is one of the safest homes in the area.”
“Oh, that does sound safe,” Jessy said brightly.
“Why don’t you and Mark go and look around.”
Turning away from the couple, Beverly went to the glass doors that opened out onto the deck that faced the estuary. It was a beautiful afternoon. She turned her face into the sun and smiled. They really seemed to like the house and she was glad for it.
She’d been feeling unsettled since Pike’s departure. After he’d left, she’d gone online and looked around for his machine. She’d found it. The articles looked real, but she just wasn’t sure. There were all kinds of spoofs out there. She sighed heavily. She wanted to call Pike up and give him a piece of her mind. It was his fault she felt so unsettled.
What am I supposed to do? Tell these people not to buy because one of these days someone is going to drop a bomb? She snorted. Right. Then she’d have as few properties as that idiot Pike. She’d lose her nice home and then what? Damn that Pike anyway.
She turned as the couple came back into the spacious living room and smiled brightly, putting all thoughts of Pike from her mind.
“We’ll take it!” Jessy exclaimed happily.
“Wonderful! Let’s go back to the office and I’ll draw up the paperwork.” Beverly’s smile was big, but inside she wasn’t nearly as happy.
Damn you, Pike.
Harley and Christy lay in bed. It had been a long day of canning. Christy had begun to gather in the harvest from their large garden. He was glad she did it in steps. He didn’t know how she did it, jars and jars of everything he could imagine.
“Tired, honey?”
He shook his head. “I honestly don’t know how you do it. Between the hot steam, cutting things up, picking things… crap,” he breathed.
She laughed, and he felt her hand slide over his chest.
He brought his hand up to hold hers and squeezed. “Why do you can so much? I mean, the basement is stacked to the ceiling with jars and jars of food from last year and even the year before.”
“My granny always told me never to eat much out of the garden, to put that away for when times were lean. She grew up during the depression.” He felt her shrug. “I guess it just stuck. My mom did it, and now I do it.”
“But, well, I mean, isn’t that just a lot of unnecessary work? We have stores we can always buy food from. A lot of my sample products could last for months if you needed.”
“I know you’re on the road a lot and you don’t get to watch the news, but there’s a lot of bad going on out there, honey.” She scooted over, placing her head on his shoulder. He smelled her clean hair and suddenly became distracted.
He felt her squeeze his hand and he grinned. “Sorry, what were you saying?”
“Look. There’re disasters all over the world. There’s the crisis in Venezuela? They have food shortages down there. It’s been going on for years, only they rarely show it on the news. Puerto Rico lost its power grid and was down for a hell of a long time. And still there are a lot of people down there without power. I’m just saying, we might have supermarkets and all that, but what happens if, all of a sudden, that ends?”
“Christy, that won’t happen to our country.”
“Why not? How can you guarantee that? That the dollar won’t be destabilized, that North Korea won’t go over the edge and send out bombs, or Russia, or China, or Iran, or Iraq?”
He didn’t know what to say. He was stunned that his wife had all this on her mind. They’d not really talked about these kinds of things ever. It was always about the kids and the farm, and work.
“You’re really worried about all that?” he asked, shaken.
“Yes, and you should be too. My granny had it right. She always told me: ‘Plan for the worst and hope for the best.’ We’ve got enough food in the basement to last us years. I use the older stuff every day so we can save money at the grocery. Plus, I know there are no pesticides in our food. No hormones. Our chickens are free range, they get home-grown corn. I like it that way. I know our boys are healthy – and you too, for the most part.” She giggled and poked him in the gut, which, he had to admit, had gone a little soft over the years.
“I guess I didn’t know you worried so much about those things.”
“I don’t worry a lot. I just keep in mind what’s going on around me. We live in a fragile world, honey. That’s why this farm is so important to me. I want our boys to carry on with it. They’re healthy and happy and have responsibility. How many seven-year-olds do you know that milk cows, feed chickens, rabbits, and all the other chores they do?”
“I don’t know many seven-year-olds. Ouch, what was that for?” he laughed when she poked him hard.
“Keep laughing, funny boy, and you’ll be canning a lot more tomorrow.”
“Okay okay. Geez, you’re touchy. So, why do you can beef?”
“Because when I order a side of beef, most of it won’t get used for a while. I don’t like the taste of frozen beef. And don’t you dare tell me not to eat it frozen,” she laughed. She knew him so well and he hummed with laugher, because he’d been about to say just that.
She poked him again and he grabbed her hand to protect himself. “Well, it does taste good when you can it. I like it better that way, too. Was just wondering. Also wondering why I love you so much.”
“’cause you’re damned lucky to have me and you know it, city boy.” She laughed and turned into him. He pulled her to him and began to kiss her. She made his heart race. Yes. He was damn lucky.
Margo sipped the wine. She was glad Pike had found a Geiger counter. She’d received his potassium iodide tablets and had decided to order herself some as well. She checked the expiration date and decided to reorder more in six months’ time. Each day that went by, the nuclear torpedo lay heavier on her mind. Some days she felt like she couldn’t breathe. Since reading that horrible article, she stayed awake at night, going over lists of things they needed.
Even though all appeared to have gone great with Orlov’s visit, she couldn’t help feeling overwhelmed by a sense of impending doom. She didn’t trust the media, she didn’t trust her government, and she certainly didn’t trust the Russians. It was a helpless feeling, and she didn’t like feeling helpless one bit. It made her angry. She didn’t like that either.
She’d feel better once Pike arrived, though she didn’t know why. It wasn’t as though he could stop this from happening any more than she could. Yet the thought of having him around calmed her better than anything else.
She smiled. He’d had a crush on her for years. Back in school, he’d been such a geeky kid, tall, gangly and skinny. So thin, she’d thought he had some kind of eating disorder. Yet she’d seen him devoured four sandwiches he’d brought to lunch. A bottomless pit, a walking empty gut. Her mother had called it a hollow leg syndrome.
She’d broken his heart when she left Georgia with Bobby. It had been written all over his thin face, his eyes looking like a kicked puppy’s. He’d been too young for her, and she’d only considered him a friend.