Today is Thanksgiving, and I guess I’m thankful we’re still alive. I wanted to treat Lee and Mary so badly. I planned this for so long, just to look forward to something. I saved a box of stovetop stuffing, a can of chicken white meat, and a sixteen ounce can of chopped tomatoes. I dumped them all together in a pot and stirred them up but could see the stovetop stuffing needed more water than the juice of the tomatoes would provide. So I carefully poured some in from one of our last remaining jugs. It is as precious as liquid gold now.
I covered it all and let it absorb the liquid for half an hour, setting it on top a wire cake stand I rigged up over the candles. It heated slowly, but when I served it, topped with that shake-on Parmesan cheese? Wow, heavenly. We almost felt like normal people eating a Thanksgiving dinner! It was so delicious. I have enough leftovers for Lee and me to eat through tomorrow.
I’ve stretched the food as much as I can. Now I don’t know what we’re going to do. The squirrels are looking better and better every day. I have to figure out how to catch them. We’re almost out of food, we’re just about out of water—I’m going to have to go out and find some soon.
~
Tara carefully poured the last few ounces of water into the can of soup she was fixing them for lunch. She shivered. The house was freezing. She didn’t know what they were going to do now that winter was here. They huddled on the sofa under blankets and wore three or four layers of clothes, sleeping with a pile of bedclothes on top of them to keep warm. But it was still cold. A nagging memory Tara couldn’t quite place kept tugging at her mind. Something about her old uncle. Dud, they called him. Tara focused her thoughts.
Uncle Dud was her grandpa’s brother. Lived to almost one hundred, but died when she was just a young girl. She remembered going to his old shack where he prided himself on being independent. It was neat as a pin, and his pride and joy was an upright piano he would play for them. He didn’t have much money, but he was very self-sufficient doing his own laundry and so forth—
that’s it!
She remembered her dad telling her Uncle Dud boiled washtubs full of water on his small pot-bellied stove to do his laundry! Her mom had wanted that old stove when Uncle Dud died, and she set it up in their living room during her Early American decorating phase, with a plant on it. Tara had that stove in the basement, buried under stacks of other saved items.
We can heat with it, cook with it, do it all!
Now all I need is water and firewood.
Tara ran to tell Lee and found him hidden under a pile of blankets, reading a magazine. His bad leg rested on the coffee table in front of him—they knew now something more was wrong than just the break. It was healing nicely, the swelling and the pain minimal now. However, when he tried to stand and walk on it, the leg collapsed under him. Tara thought maybe a tendon or ligament was torn. Mary thought so too. Lee didn’t say much, but Tara could tell he knew he was pretty much useless now. He couldn’t help with hardly anything. This just made Tara more determined to do it all.
Tara spent a lot of time reassuring Lee that when the world came back to normal again, his leg was an easy fix. She could tell this cheered him up. She just hoped it was true. Mary told her that sometimes when an injury like that was neglected too long, the ends shriveled away or something. Tara didn’t fully understand, but the gist of it was the damage was permanent. She didn’t want to think about that.
Lee was obsessed with the brace Mary had brought him, acting as though he could cinch it tightly enough to hold his weight and walk normally. Tara went back into the kitchen, and minutes later, heard him fall. She ran to find him on the floor, cursing under his breath, cinched-braced leg sticking out. She dared not help him up, and backed quietly out of the room. There were no words that would make things better.
Tara returned to the window, staring out between the slats, watching the squirrels.
Chapter 7
Tara and Lee watched the white vans come and go from the windows upstairs, back and forth on the street outside. A few times, they saw people in their yards. Once or twice, they caught the vans removing someone close by. Finally, sightings of their neighbors up and down the long street grew scarce and stopped altogether. The few cars trickled to none. Military vehicles and white vans now claimed the thoroughfare as their own. That wasn’t the only change. Sometimes at night they saw roving gangs of young men, menacing looking, hungry and lean, starvation apparent on their faces. Once they watched as the gang chased a cat down the block, and then Tara refused to look outside any longer.
Mary came and went too, but Tara had all but decided to ask her to stay with them soon. She needed to talk to Lee about it. They were safer in numbers. They could pool their resources, and although Mary was an extra mouth to feed, she was also a huge help. Lee’s leg was nearly useless and he still hobbled on one crutch. Tara needed another hardy person around. She had rationed food and water as much as she could, and both she and Lee were thinner now. They had gone down to splitting a can of soup per day. Mary mentioned she was down to her last few cans too.
It was time to make a trip to the river for water, and wood for the stove. There were snow flurries yesterday, and they would need a source of heat. She swallowed her fear as best she could while imagining all that this might entail. Tara was still frightened, but she existed in a kind of shell shock, barely remembering the scaredy-cat she used to be. She had been through a lot since those days. Tara had begun to think maybe that’s all courage really was; simply becoming numb to fear.
~
Tara stood at the cupboard looking at the lone Campbell’s Chunky Steak and Potato soup. Her mouth watered just seeing it. It was the last can and it was for their supper. She’d put off talking to Lee about Mary, but now it was time. Mary usually came over just after noon, and she wanted to be able to ask her then.
Tara happened to see the book on foraging she’d bought at the yard sale what seemed like a lifetime ago. She picked it up and stared at the delicious looking berries on the bright front cover:
Backyard Foraging
by Ellen Zachos. The tagline below the title said:
65 familiar plants you didn’t know you could eat.
Well, Ellen, let’s hope you’re right because otherwise we’re gonna have a big old plate of dead for Christmas.
Tara turned the pages, looking at the plants inside, and suddenly hope flared.
We have many of these! And I’ve seen others growing everywhere.
She recognized the chestnuts—a tree grew just down the alley where she took her regular walk. Yes, of course, they belonged to the owners whose yard they were in, but the majority of them spilled onto the alley. She could help herself if someone hadn’t already. A walnut tree was just across the alley.
Next, she read that acorns could be soaked and ground into flour. She knew where plenty of those were located. Her dahlias, dug up every year and stored in the basement, could be eaten too, tasting a lot like radishes according to the book. Wild garlic grew out back, and the bulbs and stems could be used like onions.
If she and Lee survived the winter, dandelions were plentiful in their yard. Both the leaves and blooms were edible. So were daylilies. The shoots could be eaten in spring, and the buds and petals in summer. Tara’s heart leapt when she read that their tubers were delicious, like fingerling potatoes in fall. Tara wondered if she could dig some up now in December. The book said to coat them in olive oil, and roast them at 450 degrees. Of course, they didn’t have an oven working, but Tara thought maybe they could adapt the wood stove. That is, if Lee could get it hooked up and she could rustle up some firewood.
Next, she looked at the mushroom section and realized they had an edible mushroom growing right on their tree. The book said the best way to avoid poisonous ones, was to avoid any with gills. Stick with strictly pores and “teeth” on their underside. That was simple enough to remember.
Her mom had given her the ground cover planted all around their house. Now Tara learned it was edible: Bishops Weed. The aggressive grower had to be trimmed back frequently. The variegated green and white leaves could be eaten as a salad, or used like spinach in a pita or pie. They’d also planted many hostas all around their shady yard, and apparently every variety was edible too, shoots, leaves and flowers. Their lacy ostrich ferns, the spiderwort plant at their back steps, the Rose of Sharon’s leaves and flowers, and the rose hips on Tara’s prize rosebush—all could be eaten. Even the berries from the bright red cones on those scraggly roadside Sumac bushes were edible. Who knew? Tara was excited now. It wasn’t as hopeless as she thought.
I can do this!
Tara blessed the little voice that told her to buy this book. They were not going to starve if she could help it. She glanced back out at the black and gray squirrels digging through the leaves covering the daylily tubers and narrowed her eyes. All bets were off now. They were not only competition for food—they
were
food.
~
Tara closed the foraging book and peeked out through the slats. A huge cloud of smoke spiraled up above the trees to the west. She diverted her eyes, not wanting to think about it. They had only recently begun seeing the giant smoke plume rising in the near distance. It continued day and night, thick and gray with billows of white occasionally. There was a strange smell in the air too, a mixture of burning meat and charred wood.
“They’re burning the bodies in the gravel pit.” Lee had told her. Tara had shaken her head, slowly at first, then faster and faster, trying to force that image from her mind, to go back before it had been placed there. But ever since, all she could envision was an Auschwitz-like scenario; frail bodies stacked like cordwood, the ovens—or in this case the bonfire—failing to keep up with the enormity of the task at hand.
She found Lee in the basement with the old stove, readying it for use.
“I think it’s time to invite Mary to stay here with us, Lee.” He laid down the cloth he’d been cleaning with and leaned against the crutch. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that for a while now, but didn’t want to mention it yet. I believe both sides would benefit.”
“I’m going to ask her then, as soon as she comes over today.” Tara leaned her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him. He closed his warm hand over hers.
“I’m going to go to the river for water, Lee, and hunt for some food. We need firewood too. Is the stove ready?”
Lee nodded. “Yes, I think it’s vented out okay, and all systems are go.” He drew back, searching her eyes. “I hate for you to venture out without me. Too much could go wrong.”
Tara sighed. “I know, but there’s no choice. We’re eating our last can of soup today, and we’re almost out of water too. Mary can go with me. We’ll take the gun. And we won’t take any chances either, I promise.”
Tara told him about the foraging book, and how there were many things to eat if they just searched them out. She also asked him to think about some sort of trap he could make for squirrels and rabbits. She saw his face light up and knew he felt useful again. Designing a trap would give him a project, as well as self-esteem.
Just then, they heard knocking upstairs and Tara ran up to check the door. It was Mary, and Tara ushered her inside.
“I’ve got something to run by you, Mary.” First, it was rude not to enquire after her. “How are you doing? Any news?”
“None.
“How are you doing on food?”
“I think I have two cans of corn and one can of soup left.” Tara imagined the corn simmering in a pot with the soup and daylily tubers and her stomach growled.
“How’s your water supply?”
“Gone, except for the tub, which I filled up before everything started—it’s down to an inch of water too dirty to drink.”
“Yeah. We’re about out of water now too, and our last can of soup will be used tonight. We want to ask you to move in with us here, Mary.” Tara lowered her voice so Lee couldn’t hear her in the basement. “I need your help, and I think there’s safety in numbers. So does Lee.”
“I’m glad to hear Lee agreed.” Mary smiled. “I’ve been thinking the same thing to be honest. So, yes, I’d be happy to.” Tara jumped up from her chair and hugged her, talking fast.
“We need to go to the river, Mary, to get water, and I can filter it in our purifiers. We need firewood for the stove. We need to trap some animals to eat, and dig tubers up and…” Tara stopped and burst out laughing at Mary’s startled expression. It felt like teenage sleepover night with her best friend, and she hadn’t been this happy for a long time. Mary laughed long and hard then too.
“This is a good thing, Tara, a very good thing,” Mary said, nodding her head. “I was starting to get scared over there.” After Tara told her about the things they’d seen from the upstairs windows, Mary hadn’t come over as often. At least the daylight hours seemed safer. Now they would all be together to protect one another. They would either wait out the end of the world, or go down fighting.
“Mary, go home and gather your stuff. I can help you carry it over if you need. Bring those cans of corn—I have an idea for some stew, and I think it might be really good.” Lee came upstairs just then, and told Mary how glad he was she was joining them.
“We’ll all be together for Christmas, which is as it should be,” Tara told them both.
Mary left to collect her things, Lee went back into the basement to start on a trap, and Tara snuck out back with the small garden shovel to dig up some daylily tubers.
~
Mary made several trips across the street, stacking her belongings on Tara’s front porch. By the time Tara carried in her small basket of daylily tubers, Mary had finished. Tara wiped off her dirt-covered hands and helped her bring it all inside and store it in a corner. Mary showed her a silver pistol and several boxes of ammunition.
“Your gun is bigger than mine,” Tara joked.
“Let’s hope I never need to use it,” Mary replied.
Mary carried the cans of corn into the kitchen where Tara stood at the sink, scrubbing the tubers and laying them out on a paper towel to dry. Mary held up a bottle of red wine. “I thought this would be suitable for the occasion.”
“Wine! Mary, that’s perfect!” Tara rooted in the drawer for a corkscrew and handed it to their new roommate. She pointed at the paper towel. “Look, Mary, these are like little potatoes according to the foraging book.” Most of the tubers were small, about half the size of Tara’s little finger. “We have quite a few in our yard alone, and I know several other places where they grow wild.”
Lee came into the kitchen, a big smile on his face. “The stove’s ready. I already filled it with some wood scraps and kindling. I wanted to see if you were ready to cook something.” He hovered over her work area, obviously hungry.
Tara clapped her hands together in excitement and Mary and Lee both laughed, caught up in her elation. “We’re going to have a special dinner in Mary’s honor. I’ve got a plan for Mary’s and our last two cans of soup and her corn. I’ve got daylily tubers too. We’re going to have shaved Dahlia root salad, lightly seasoned with olive oil and herbs, and a main course of Celebration Stew.” Tara said as she pulled out a large pot from the cupboard under the sink.
“And look what else Mary brought, a bottle of wine. It’s a special occasion!”
Lee took the matches to light the fire in the pot-bellied stove. Tara asked Mary to get the fine crystal wine glasses down from the glass front cabinet. Tara opened her can of steak and potato soup, Mary’s two cans of corn and her can of bean with bacon soup. Mary pulled the cork from the wine next. Tara took it from her, shrugged, and dumped a big dollop into the pot.
“Think of it as Beef Bourguignon!” Tara laughed. She added the washed and cleaned tubers and stirred it with a long spoon, then dipped a finger in and tasted it.
“Mmm,” she nodded at Mary. They were all so hungry. This was a true feast. Maybe it wasn’t wise to use up the last four cans of food at once, but Tara knew they would make a couple meals out of the stew. Plus, it wasn’t so damn depressing this way, watching the cans go down one by one over the next couple days. Might as well get it over with, and go out with a bang.
Mary wiped the crystal glasses clean and lifted down the best crystal soup bowls. She carefully poured the wine, and carried the glasses to the dining room table. Tara carried the full pot carefully down the basement stairs. The smell of wood smoke hit her, and she saw Lee seated on an old wooden kitchen chair in front of the pot-bellied stove with the door open, poking at the burning wood inside.
“You’ll pee the bed,” Tara laughed, repeating one of her grandma’s infamous sayings. It was what she’d always said if any of the grandkids played with fire.
Tara set the large pot on top the stove, marveling at its ancient efficiency. The formerly freezing-cold basement was warming nicely. The large stovepipe went up the wall and vented out the window, where Lee had replaced the glass by nailing a perfectly cut piece of wood with a hole in it for the pipe. She smiled at him admiringly. “Nice.” He grinned with pride and continued poking. She was glad he felt useful. The leg thing was bothering him badly.