Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
I nod and pick a point on the bridge, then aim and fire once again. There’s no satisfying ping from hitting metal this time. But never mind.
“You don’t hate the place,” I say, and it’s half question, half statement.
“I don’t hate the place,” he confirms. Though I can hear the silent but. “It’s going to take a lot of work.”
SATURDAY
“Oh no,” I say with mock sadness. “The broccoli has gone bad. Those cabbages aren’t looking so good either. Whatever will we do?”
Sophie barely reacts. Just keeps on bouncing the tennis ball she found out on the street. Guess she was due some down days with all she’s been through. Grief has a habit of sneaking up on you and slapping you sideways when you least expect it. And she lost everyone and everything on top of the trauma of surviving on her own for several days. She had to have been terrified.
I wonder if she waited until we’d stopped somewhere to be sad. Like she needed some safety and space to wade through those emotions. I don’t know. But trying to get her to talk about it has not been successful so far. All I can do is wait and be here for her.
For someone who wasn’t even certain she wanted children, Sophie sure does have me experiencing big feelings. I’m just thankful she found us in the drugstore. The idea of her out there on her own is horrible. At any rate, she’s here and she’s basically okay, and we’re going to keep her that way.
Today we’re in the market on the edge of town. Natalia’s arthritis is acting up, so she’s staying close to home. Soph and I are on our own with the grocery sorting. Dean disposed of the bodies of two people with shotguns guarding the front of the store, and another one from the back office. They all seem to have died of the virus while defending the place from looters. And they also seem to have succeeded. Not even the liquor store next door was touched.
Canned chili, soups, and stews are low in stock, along with instant mashed potato. Same goes for tissues, toilet paper, and cold and flu remedies. The sort of items you’d expect to have been popular during a pandemic.
Happily, though, the store isn’t trashed and there’s still plenty here for us to work with for the time being. How much of the canned food that’s missing is still sitting in people’s houses is another question. It’s definitely worth looking for. Given how fast the virus worked, some people would have died before getting through their supplies.
Wolf Creek is slowly starting to come together. Leon and Dean used one of the tractors from the blockade to dig a mass grave beside the road into town yesterday. They’re making good progress relocating the few hundred bodies needing to be laid to rest. Perhaps in time we can turn the area into a memorial garden. It would be good to do something to remember the people who were here before us.
The tank and one of the other military type vehicles that were facing off against the blockade are now parked on the street outside our house. Dean is living the dream. Watching him figure out how to steer the tank was entertaining. All of the stopping, starting, and swerving was reminiscent of a student driver figuring out a stick shift for the first time. Sophie laughed so hard she almost fell over. I can see the tank out my bedroom window, along with some charming trees.
Meanwhile, the school bus and other tractors have been moved to the side of the road heading into town for now.
We opted not to move all of the vehicles, however. They’re useful, security-wise. Not for stopping people from gaining entrance. They can still enter on foot or if their vehicle is big enough to push a pair of sedans out of their way. But the small blockade should be useful, in theory, for slowing people down and perhaps giving us a chance to assess if they’re friend or foe. And at least they’ll make some noise and alert us to their presence.
Some of the fresh produce in the market can definitely be saved. Potatoes and pumpkins and corn and such. One week or so without electricity hasn’t much affected the hardier vegetables. I start loading some into a cart, ready to push it out to the vehicle waiting in the parking lot.
Our deceased neighbors owned a nice midsize SUV, which is coming in handy for jobs around town. It feels sensible to stock the house with supplies. Say a week’s worth, just in case we need to stay inside. And we need to restock the food in our backpacks in case we have to leave in a hurry. Which I really hope is not going to happen. But you never can tell these days.