Authors: Kenneth Cary
Tags: #Christian Books & Bibles, #Literature & Fiction, #Mystery & Suspense, #Religion & Spirituality, #New Age & Spirituality, #Angels & Spirit Guides, #Christian Fiction, #Spirituality, #Angels
The hanging Christmas lights, coupled with a collection of mason jars, cooking and canning utensils, their large pressure cooker, and a variety of bowls and spices sitting on the kitchen island, made the entire kitchen look something like an exotic laboratory. But it was the smell that held John’s attention. “Is that taco meat?” he asked.
“Hand me that bowl, please,” said Jenna, ignoring John’s question with a tilt of her head to a bowl that he was expected to grab for her. She continued to stir the simmering meat as John reached for the first empty bowl he saw. “No, John, I need that one . . . the one with the taco seasoning in it,” she said, as she directed John to the correct bowl with another toss of her head.
“Got it,” said John. “We having taco’s for lunch?”
“Seriously, John. Do you honestly think we’re having tacos for lunch?” asked Jenna, as she wiped her shimmering brow with her shirtsleeve.
“I could use a taco,” said John.
“Daddy, we’re canning the taco meat. It’s going in the jars, and then into our food storage,” said Abby, with a playful smile. She was enjoying the verbal exchange between her two parents.
“Can I have just a little?” asked John, playfully pleading with his seriously engaged wife.
“John, please. Make yourself useful and stir this meat while I add the seasoning.”
John grabbed a heavy wooden spoon and began stirring the meat for Jenna as she added the pre-measured taco seasoning into the pot. Once blended, he was instructed to hold the bowl steady as Jenna
scooped the cooked taco meat into a large-mouthed funnel and into several tall, glass mason jars. John watched Jenna cap the jars and lower them into the hot water bath at the bottom of her pressure cooker. “What else are you going to can?” asked John.
“I want to can all the meat first. Who knows how long the generator will run. And I would rather can everything now, while it’s still frozen and when I can pace myself, than wait for the day when we have no electricity at all,” replied Jenna.
“What about the fish, can you can that too?” asked John
“Of course I can, but I’m sticking to the beef today. It’ll take a couple hours to finish the taco meat, and then I was planning to can the steaks.”
John would rather grill the steaks, but he knew that was an unrealistic expectation. He couldn’t grill them when ash covered everything outside, and by the time the ash was sufficiently dispersed, there would be too many hungry people walking around outside to risk such an operation. The last thing he wanted was to advertise to the neighborhood that he was stocked well enough to celebrate their survival with a steak cook-off. He also knew the smell of cooked food carried much farther when people were hungry, and the last thing he wanted to do was attract unwanted attention. He knew, from experience, that hungry people were dangerous people, and the hungrier they were, the more dangerous they were.
“How are you going to can the steaks?” asked John.
“Simple, I’m going to cube them, season them in a variety of ways, and then cook them in the half quart jars under pressure. It will be just like cooking the taco meat, except it will take a little longer,” replied Jenna. She paused and scribbled some notes onto a pad of paper. John leaned over her shoulder and saw that she was recording every timed move of her canning process.
“I’m impressed, babe. How long will the canned meat last?”
“At least a year, but I think we’ll have it eaten long before then. Don’t you?” she asked.
John snorted and said, “You’re right about that. We’ll likely eat everything you’ve canned long before we start eating the freeze-dried food in the bunker.” He leaned forward, kissed her cheek, and asked, “Will you be OK for a little while? I want to run over and check on the Hernandez family. I’m a little concerned for them.”
“Really,” asked Jenna, with a hint of surprise, “just the other day you said you couldn’t wait for them to leave. Why the sudden interest in their wellbeing?”
John knew she was right to question his change of heart, but he couldn’t very well tie his desire to check on them with his spirituality. In a flash of inspiration he decided to tie his concern to the battery guy. “I know, but that was before the battery guy showed up. What if he went to their home and somehow managed to power his way into their lives?” asked John, and as soon as he said that a chill ran up his spine and made his arms stand out in goose flesh. As he waited for Jenna to reply, he took a spoon and scraped the remaining morsels of taco meat from the bowl and popped it into his mouth.
“Are you going to take Adam with you?” she asked.
“No, I want him to stay here and pull security. Speaking of Adam, where’s Corbin?”
“He’s upstairs . . . in Adam’s room. And the last I saw him, he was writing something in a notebook.”
“Abby. Baby. Can you go get your brother for me?” asked John
“Sure, daddy.”
As soon as Abby cleared the kitchen, John asked, “How’s Corbin doing?”
“I think he’ll be OK. Adam’s been keeping an eye on him . . . staying close to him,” replied Jenna.
“OK, good,” said John, as he wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “I won’t be gone long. I’ll give the boys instructions before I leave, and I’ll take a radio with me this time. I’m sorry about this morning,” said John.
“It’s OK. I know you were fine, but it’s very hard, John. All of this is very hard on us right now, and the thought of losing you keeps filling my mind.”
John noticed her resolute demeanor, her desire to remain strong and calm. “I know you’re worried, but trust me when I say I’ll be fine, that I won’t be leaving you anytime soon.”
Jenna lowered the last of the glass mason jars into the pressure cooker and sealed the heavy lid. “Ten minutes to steam up to pressure, then another seventy-five to cook, thirty to cool, and I start all over again,” said Jenna, without looking at John. “Call me Betty Homemaker.”
“You mean, Susie Homemaker,” corrected John.
“No. Betty Homemaker is a cross between Susie Homemaker and Betty Crocker . . . it’s a hybrid name for a hybrid woman,” replied Jenna with a smirk. “Besides, you can’t always be right.” John pulled her in for a hug and she said, “Please be careful, John Anderson.” She rested her head against his chest and breathed deeply. “You smell good after a shower”.
“That’s because I smell like a pig the rest of the time,” said John. She patted his butt and he smiled. “I know you worry about me, but I need you to trust me. I know what I’m doing, and I’ll be around to take care of you and the family for a long time,” he said.
“I know,” replied Jenna, “It’s just a lot to take in right now. I do trust you, John. I trust your confidence and your abilities, but that doesn’t mean an accident can’t happen.”
“You’re right, an accident can happen, but not to me, not now. I know what I’m talking about. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s all tied to the dreams. I know that’s hard for you to accept right now, but I know we’ll make it, Jenna. I just know it.”
John heard Adam, Abby and Corbin enter the kitchen. They were debating about what movie to watch when John said, “You know, I’m fine with you guys watching an occasional movie, but you need to wait until I get back.”
“Where you going, dad?” asked Adam, clearly excited to begin another adventure with his father.
“This is a solo mission, Adam. I’m going over to the Hernandez home to check on them, and I need you and Corbin to guard the house while I’m gone.”
Adam’s shoulders dropped, but only for a moment. He turned to Corbin and then back to his dad, “Can we use the radios?”
“Sure, no problem. That will make it easier for mom. You guys can monitor my activity and keep her posted.”
“Can I be in charge?” asked Adam.
“No, that will be your mom’s job, Adam. But you can be . . . the head of security. How does that sound?”
“Awesome. Thanks, dad,” replied Adam.
“And my pistol?” asked John.
“I put it back in your holster. It’s in the clean-room.”
“Thanks Adam. I’ll be leaving in a few minutes. We’ll use the same radio channel and call signs as we did previously. Keep your ears and eyes open. I’ll be calling you soon.”
“Got it dad. You can count on us,” replied Adam, and he and Corbin jumped into a conversation about radio operating procedures.
John was glad Corbin was old enough to help, and that he wasn’t crushed over the loss of his parents. Adam had a lot to do with Corbin’s recovery, and he was grateful for his son in ways he never imagined possible, certainly not at his current age anyway. It wasn’t easy raising a teenage boy, especially one who had a survivalist minded father. John also appreciated Corbin, and knew he would come in handy, but wasn’t sure how much he could rely on him. Adam he could rely on, and Abby too, for that matter, but Corbin, he was still a wild card.
Only time would tell
, thought John.
A
fter an extensive security briefing with Adam and Corbin, John stepped out onto the driveway and pulled the side door closed. He remained standing on the steps until he heard Adam engage the security plate. Adam slid the curtain aside to give John a thumb’s up, and John returned the gesture and turned to begin his long walk to the Hernandez’s home.
The Hernandez’ lived on the opposite side of the neighborhood loop, which was about as far as possible given the developer’s layout, but John was OK with it. He wanted to walk. He actually needed a little uninterrupted time to think. A more direct route did exist, but it meant passing through several neighborhood yards, and wading through ash, and jumping fences. Though concerned about the Hernandez’, John didn’t feel rushed, so he decided to stay on the road. At most, the walk to the far side of the loop would take ten minutes.
John gave Adam a quick radio check as soon as he reached the end of the driveway. Satisfied that everything was in order, he made his way to the center of the road and drew his pistol. He performed a quick blind-check to see if it was loaded, and it wasn’t. His finger touched no chambered round, so he released the magazine and pressed the top load to check its capacity. Satisfied that Adam had fully reloaded the magazine, John slapped it firmly home into the pistol’s grip and quickly chambered a round by drawing and releasing the slide. Before returning the pistol to its holster, John performed a second check, but this time with his flashlight. Satisfied that his weapon was ready for action, John set off in the direction of Paul’s house.
Vehicle traffic left a nicely plowed track through the ash, which made John’s walk much easier, so he lengthened his stride to quicken his pace. It felt good to be out despite the conditions, but he was also curious about why the Hernandez’ needed his help. Being a curious man by nature, John often followed up on anything he had no knowledge of, be it Salafist Jihadist in Nigeria, or fire ants in his own backyard. John loved finding and collecting information. It also made for some interesting conversations with family, friends and coworkers, especially his coworkers, who often thought of him as a know-it-all. It didn’t bother him that people thought of him as a know-it-all, because it was true, for the most part. He did know a lot. Not enough to be an authority, but enough to shape ideas and awareness.
He reached the corner, and when he turned west he began counting mailboxes. The Hernandez’s home was the fourth on the right, so when the fourth mailbox was near, John slowed and began to carefully survey the surrounding area. As he approached the house his feelings changed from those of concern, to dread. John didn’t know what was happening, but he had a very strong feeling that it was something bad. It was always strange, to feel something bad was either happening, or about to happen, strongly enough to actually believe it. He had felt it before, but never here - never in his own neighborhood. It was the kind of feeling he had whenever he was close to the enemy, and it was a feeling that saved his life more than once.
Eli told him to check on the Hernandez family when he returned, so there had to be a good reason for it. And then the prompting from Sarrif when John left the bedroom. Those two messages must mean John had some important business to do, that this wouldn’t be a casual visit. Something was going on, and John was expected to investigate and resolve it. Maybe it was some kind of test. He didn’t know, but it really didn’t matter. He was always a morally obedient soldier.
Maybe that’s why I’m here
, thought John.
Maybe that’s why I’m the right guy for the job
.
John took a knee by the mailbox and watched for any signs of activity, a glimmer of light from a bedroom window, the movement of a curtain, or even a sound. Anything that would tell him something about what was going on inside would be helpful. As he scanned the house, John made a brief, and very low-key, radio check with Adam. As they previously planned, John told Adam that he would mute the radio on his end, but leave the microphone open for him to monitor all his activity. John made the necessary adjustments and clipped the radio back to his vest. He wasn’t sure why he wanted Adam to monitor his radio, but it made him feel better knowing, that if worse came to worse, Adam could respond.