The chosen hunters were instructed to pick only the healthiest-looking animals. They would field strip the animals as soon as they made the kill and leave behind any organ meat, as well as the muscle closest to the bone. Organ tissue and bone marrow were where any fallout the animal had inhaled or consumed would be concentrated. That would provide Rejas with safe meat and leave some of the hardier scavengers with some extra food as well.
The bishop of the Mormon Church and several hundred of his followers searched every abandoned home in the area, gathering any supplies that might have been left behind, and locating several small gardens that still had some usable fruits and vegetables. They added everything they found to the stockpile, canning the fruits and veggies in mason jars.
The LDS group grew by leaps and bounds as the locals saw that they weren’t some outlandish cult, but just good God-fearing people whose beliefs, though quite different in some respects, did happen to include preparing for whatever tests God might fling at them. The LDS congregation before the bombs had numbered about two hundred strong in Rejas. The day after, Rejas found that caravans of Mormon refugees had arrived in the night to swell their ranks to nearly eight hundred. Others had trickled in over the last few weeks, and there had been a rash of conversions, as well, swelling their ranks to more than fifteen hundred members.
Though Rejas had begun rationing immediately after D-day, fuel was another immediate concern, and all of the stations were quickly down to critical levels. In reality, this was actually a threefold problem.
First, we had to find enough fuel to keep Rejas functional over the next few years. That should be enough time to determine whether the country was ever going to get back on its feet, or if the U.S.A. was gone for good. If the former, we could probably count on some kind of assistance eventually. If the latter, we were on our own and would have to search for long-term solutions.
Next, after we found enough fuel to keep us going for a while, we would have to find a way to preserve it. That problem was more difficult. Fossil fuel would store only for a matter of months before autoxidation set in, the decomposition process which would break the fuel down into a variety of lacquers and gums, rendering it unsuitable for use. I had read about it years ago and purchased two sixteen-ounce bottles of a fuel preservative that might prove to be the answer. Each bottle was guaranteed to prevent autoxidation for up to five years. Unfortunately, thirty-two ounces would only treat a hundred gallons, hardly enough to supply a whole town.
Enter Wayne Kelley, Rejas High School chemistry teacher. Wayne was able to analyze and duplicate enough of the preservative to treat millions of gallons. He claimed it was actually a simple compound to copy, made of alcohols and other fairly common substances, and he soon had a small production facility set up in an abandoned warehouse.
The third part of the problem was transportation. None of that fuel would do us a bit of good in surrounding towns. We had to get it back to Rejas. So Kelland sent out an appeal through the Chronicle for volunteers.
First, we needed scouts to check neighboring towns and locate fuel, as well as any other usable items. They would take with them enough fuel preservative to treat any fuel tanks found.
Next, truck drivers were called for, anyone with experience in driving eighteen-wheelers.
Volunteers began pouring in immediately. Hundreds volunteered for the scouting runs, and fifty-eight truck drivers came forward, including three that had previous experience hauling gasoline. From those fifty-eight, Kelland selected the forty-eight that were in the best physical condition and divided them into two teams of twenty-four for our sixteen trucks. The remainder would serve as standby drivers.
Each team would take half of the trucks, three men per vehicle: one driver, one sleeping, and one riding shotgun- literally. Each truck had one person awake at all times, besides the driver, with a loaded firearm to discourage hijackers.
Within a month, the scouts had located and preserved enough gasoline and diesel to last Rejas for at least six years with a minimum of rationing.
So every few weeks one of two groups of twenty-four men armed with rifles, fuel pumps, radiation detectors and gas masks, went to nearby towns and returned with enough gasoline to fill the empty tanks at any of the twelve gas stations around town.
As expected, they did occasionally run into minor trouble. One of the first teams ventured too close to the suburbs of Houston during a bad storm and was scared silly when the winds blowing across the remains caused their PRDs to glow. Discretion being the better part of valor, they immediately donned their masks and turned tail.
On another occasion, a team ran into a small band of armed marauders that tried to hijack the convoy. Unfortunately for the would-be hijackers, the truck ran into them, and the team never looked back.
It began to look as if we might actually make it. Just like a mythical Phoenix rising from the ashes of its destruction, Rejas too began to gather its strength.
Chapter 10
Le changement sera fort difficile,
Cite, prouince au change gain fera:
Coeur haut, prudent mis, chasse luy habile,
Mer, terre, peuple son estat changera.
The change will be very difficult:
City and province will gain by the change:
Heart high, prudent established, chased out one cunning,
Sea, land, people will change their state.
Two years later, life had settled into a kind of routine. Amber, Ken, Cindy, Debra, Megan, Zach, and I had turned Amber’s little goat ranch into more of a fortress by hiding caches of supplies and weapons in various places around the property. We were actually beginning to adapt to our new lifestyle, and I sometimes wondered how I had ever coped with the frantic pace of pre-D life.
“Debra? We’re heading into town. Anything in particular I should look for?”
She came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a shabby dishtowel before draping it over her shoulder. “See if you can find a hydrometer. Cindy says she thinks a couple of the car batteries are going bad.” She paused, thinking a second. “Oh, and see if Sarah has any more cans of that condensed milk that she found. Maybe we can make some ice cream and get a little relief from this heat.”
I gaped for a moment. “Is the freezer working?”
“Yep. Cindy hooked the invertor into the circuit so we’d have enough power to run a couple of appliances. I thought we could celebrate with some ice cream.”
“Sounds amazing. I think I’m drooling a little.” I tried to remember what else we needed for homemade ice cream. “What about rock salt?”
“I’ll break up a piece of the salt lick.”
“All right. The kids’ll be tickled. Hell, I’m tickled.” I kissed her and started to pull away, but she grabbed my shirt and extended the kiss for several seconds longer.
“Come on, Dad!” Zach shouted impatiently from outside. “Let’s go already!”
I scowled as Debra giggled at me.
“How about we pick this back up later?” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.
I grinned. “Sounds like a date.”