“Twelve dollars seems wicked steep, but who knows when we’re going to see hot food again in Kentucky,” Malorie said.
“Okay, I’m open for ideas here, but hear me out first,” Joshua began. He switched off the ignition and turned to look at both Megan and Malorie. “We’re on foot from here on out, no doubt about it. I don’t think that anyone is going to sell us a vehicle in Kentucky, gas will be wicked expensive or unobtainable, winter is supposedly coming soon, and we are due to get snow. The cop at the checkpoint said that there’s a refugee camp over on the west side of Louisa in some park. I don’t know about you, but I’m not keen on going there. I think it’ll be a crime magnet where either of you or one of the boys could get abducted.”
Megan was past overtired. “True, it could get positively Grapes of Wrath over there. We can’t enter a situation where we’re trapped and where one of us is separated from the group. We’re simply too small a force to defend ourselves. And knowing the history of such camps, they’ll probably disarm everyone coming in. Our primary mission is to stay warm, dry, and unseen. I don’t think we’ll be able to make much progress through the winter. If we find a place to stay overnight and then move westward only to find that there’s nowhere for us to stay, then we’d be highly reluctant to backtrack to our previous camp.”
“Great insight, Megan. I knew that you were the big sister for a reason.” Megan flicked the back of her head as Malorie continued, “It would appear that we have to find a place and stay there through the winter—any chance that we can do that here in town? How about Louisa?”
Joshua winced and said, “I’m not certain that would work. Whoever was prepared enough prior to the Crunch to make it through the winter probably isn’t open to the idea of adding five mouths to feed right now. Besides, we’d have to be very sure that the situation was safe and that people were not psycho or something, and you know what they say about beggars being choosers.”
“Right,” Megan said. “Taking on someone else’s kids is going to be a hard sell.” She squeezed the boys to let them know that she still loved them and continued. “So that leaves us headed somewhere on foot out of West Virginia toward Bradfordsville, but I’m under no illusion that we’re going to be able to make it there in one multiday trek. I’d give us ten miles a day if we really pushed it, and that’s not considering all of our stuff, either.”
Joshua added, “The cop said don’t bother with the sporting goods store because they were likely out of whatever we’d need. But he might have just been thinking of gloves, coats, ammunition, and freeze-dried Mountain House products. What we need is the ability to cover ground with our stuff on foot, like those game-cart contraptions.”
“You mean like what you’d put a deer carcass on to pack out of the woods?” Malorie asked.
“Yes, exactly.”
Megan tilted her head to one side and said, “I guess that just might work. We’d probably need more than one, though, no?”
“And if a batch of pancakes is already twelve dollars, then what is the world’s most useful form of ground conveyance post-Crunch going to cost us?” Malorie asked.
“Just getting this far has increased our chances of survival,” Joshua said. “Think for a moment how many people did not or will not be able to get past Charleston.” The thought was sobering for everyone. “We’ll have to see what we can trade the Jeep for. With the new restrictions, it’s not going to help us reach our destination.”
“Oh, Joshua! You couldn’t bring yourself to do that, could you? What if we stayed here for a while, see if the laws change?” Megan asked with genuine concern.
“I’m not sure what other options, if any, we might have. Staying means certain misfortune. See what you have for cash between the two of you and take the boys to load up on pancakes; we’re going to need the carbs. I’ll go check out the town to see what is still out there between the pawnshops and the sporting goods store.” The boys excitedly unbuckled their seat belts, eager to eat pancakes. “Malorie, can I borrow your Android so that I can take pictures of the Jeep?”
“Of course.”
Joshua snapped a few pictures of the Jeep, especially under the hood, and then walked the family over to the Boy Scouts pancake fund-raiser. He found out where to find the sporting goods store and pawnshops from one of the parents. Turning to the ladies, he said, “Keep an eye on our stuff.”
Joshua passed by a Food City grocery store that looked like it had been picked over rather well, a clear example of what happens when the Crunch meets just-in-time logistics. There was no resupply, and the store was down to nearly empty shelves in less than seventy-two hours.
Rounding the corner, Joshua came to the second pawnshop that the scout leader had mentioned and went inside. There was a pasty-faced teenager with pimples who was clearly a throwback to the grunge era, complete with an unbuttoned flannel shirt hanging over a Nirvana T-shirt. He was holding a shotgun at port arms, leaning up against a wall full of television sets; he nodded politely but was clearly all business. Joshua asked the man behind the counter, “Cash only?” and he nodded. “I need two game carts. Do you have any?”
“I have one that is about the size you would need for a doe, and a bigger one that will hold a big buck.”
“What are you asking for the pair?”
The man behind the counter stood up. He had a small .380 pistol in the top pocket of his overalls and walked with a noticeable limp. He had a very round gut that made his silhouette look like two Solo cups stacked up rim to rim. He labored across the shop over to the room where the outdoor sporting goods stuff was kept. “The smaller one has two good tires, so I’ll take three hundred dollars for that one.” Joshua swallowed hard and tried not to appear shocked. “The bigger one needs a new tire, but we can get one off of the bicycles over there for you—I’ll take just five hundred for it, on account of the tire.”
“Eight hundred dollars for the pair, huh?” Joshua said. The man nodded. “Do you have any mess kits? How about green wool army surplus blankets?” Joshua asked.
“’Bout how many were you needin’?”
“Five blankets if you have them, and I could get by with three mess kits.”
“I reckon that would bring us to eleven hundred U.S. dollars—this is my reserve stock, you understand, and I’m not expecting to be resupplied anytime soon.”
Joshua maintained his poker face. “No, I get it. I might need a few other items, but are you willing to entertain an offer for a trade on that merchandise?”
“It depends on the trade. I am not taking any kind of electronics like TVs or Xboxes if that’s what you had in mind.”
“No, I’m looking to trade a modified Jeep that I rebuilt. I have the title document.” Joshua pulled out the Android to display the photos, keeping one eye on the kid with the shotgun, who had crossed the floor to look over Joshua’s shoulder at the pictures.
The kid spoke up with the savvy of someone who had grown up in a pawnshop and said, “Suppose you need to get on through to Kentucky and the bridge is closed now for vehicles.” Joshua nodded, and the kid continued, “What if we say ‘no’? Then you’ll be stuck without the carts, blankets, and everything. Sounds like you’re the one in the weaker position here. We may need to talk about this price some more.”