Tales of the Derry Plague by Anselmo, Ray (most inspirational books of all time TXT) 📗

she went to work cooking the few frozen items that were left, so she hopefully wouldn’t have to toss them later.

Back to SBN&N in mid-afternoon, where the frozen foods awaited. A lot of them were hopeless – things like Hot Pockets, TV dinners and cream pies wouldn’t keep without electricity. She could dehydrate the tater tots and other potato products, she thought, and the frozen vegetables and breakfast meats and waffles, but everything else was likely to be a loss no matter what she did. She set aside a frozen pizza and a banana cream pie for dinner, then started moving much of the rest to the Bog of Eternal Stench.

Since she was smart and took it easy, it was sundown when she finished. She went home, baked the pizza, ate it and half the pie – she’d burned a lot of energy the past few days, which did wonders for her appetite – then returned to the store in darkness, loaded up everything she thought she could dehydrate and went to the Zen farm again. The oranges, broccoli and cauliflower were done, so she bagged them up again and put in all the frozen veggies, formed potatoes and pre-breaded fish.

The breakfast meats were another matter – first she had to remove the burger patties (now the consistency of boot leather) and thoroughly clean all the beef grease from the dehydrator. By the time it was ready to put the sausages and bacon in, it was after 10 p.m. and she was ready to drop. No room for the waffles – they’d have to wait for tomorrow. She turned on the machines and left to leggo the Eggos at the store.

But tired or not, she showered and went to bed with a smile on her face. In just a week she’d gone from panic and mourning to settling in, preparing enough food to ideally last a good long time, and generally adjusting to epic disaster. She’d done better that anyone who knew her would’ve expected, including herself. “Good job, Kel – you’re a champ,” she said, patting herself on the back.

Kelly plugged in her phone to charge, took her lithium and settled into bed, happy with her work and herself. Whatever happened tomorrow, she planned to be ready for it.

7

DARK

She wasn’t quite as ready as she’d hoped.

When Kelly woke, it was well past sunrise, but she felt refreshed, comfortable … and confused. She was sure she’d set her alarm clock the previous night. Had she forgotten in her tiredness? She looked up …

… it was blinking. 4:51. Blinking meant it was running on the battery after …

“Oh, crud.” After the power went out. She still hadn’t gotten a watch, so she checked her phone. It was 74% charged, and the time was 9:06 a.m. So the power went out around 4:15. Was it still out? Was it out permanently?

She stumbled out of bed and tried the light switch. Nothing. Out to the kitchen, where she opened the fridge. Nothing. Doublepluscrud.

“Well, Kel, you knew the day was coming,” she grumbled. The electricity was gone, probably for good. Probably running water was too. Every plan she had involving either was shot. That meant she’d have to build fires to cook, that she’d have to bathe and wash clothes in the ocean (she’d forgotten to fill up bathtubs, but that would’ve been a temporary solution anyway). She’d have to drink bottled water and set up rain barrels before the autumn rains. She’d have to dehydrate …

“Ugh. Triplepluscrud!” The dehydrators at the farm would’ve stopped too – and only halfway through loads of very perishable foods! She’d have to go up there immediately and see what she could salvage … no, wait. They had a gas generator – she could finish up the current stock as long as there was enough gasoline to do so. Whew. She threw on a change of clothes, hopped in the car and drove up to Holy Green, hoping for the best.

It wasn’t the best, but the dehydrators had run until the juice cut off, about six hours. So the food she’d put in was a bit past half-done, as the ambient heat had moved the process along. She went to the generator to see what could be done to finish the work.

Bless the Holy Green people to whatever afterlife they believed in – they’d kept the generator manual on a shelf not six feet from the machine. According to the book, the Wen 56551 was a 5000-watt generator with a 389cc overhead valve engine, a spark arrestor and an automatic voltage regulator, and met National Park Service safety standards. More to the point, it would run for 11 hours at half load on a full 6.5-gallon tank of gas.

She checked the gas gauge to see how much it had. About half a tank. Doing the math, that would give her about five hours running time, enough to just finish what she had in the dehydrators provided she turned off everything else on the farm. If she wanted to do any more, though, she’d have to get more fuel. Good thing she’d printed out all that stuff on siphoning.

“So where does that leave me?” First, she needed to start the generator and get the dehydrators back into action, then go through the farm and turn off the lights and whatnot. Go to the store and deal with the rest of the frozen food. Go home and deal with everything in the fridge and freezer. Siphon some gas from the vehicles of her choice. Find a watch that didn’t need a battery. And either build a fire or drag out someone’s charcoal barbecue grill before dinner. Oh, and search for candles.

It was looking like a very busy day. And ideally, it should all be done by sundown. “Marvelous,” she muttered. But energy spent complaining was energy she wouldn’t have for productive