The Look in Their Eyes
The next morning brought a perfectly unhurried stretch of time we hadn't enjoyed in ages. I started my usual morning routine, and by now Wolf seemed to have decided it was a game he very much wanted to play.
Every time I did a pull-up, he timed his jumps perfectly beneath me, bouncing up and down. When I dropped into push-ups, he flopped onto the floor and pushed himself up in rhythm with me. Then, when I finally clenched my core and held an L-sit, Wolf just rolled over onto his back and wriggled around on the ground.
"Hahaha. You trying to copy this one too?"
I burst out laughing and gave his belly a thorough rub.
I fed Wolf and headed out for our morning walk. Breathing in the cold, crisp air as we walked and jogged, I found myself thinking this winter was actually pretty bearable. Americans were losing their minds over the Great Winter, but I'd spent ten years weathering the winters of Yellowknife, Canada, where thirty or forty below was nothing to write home about.
Dave's old complaint drifted through my mind. Feels like we ran from Canada just to end up in Canada.
As a pale, hazy sun climbed into the sky, the farm came back to life. Everyone was busy with their own work. Frank and Jake were hunched over a broken drone, taking it apart and groaning about turning it into a surveillance camera, while Gunner was up to his elbows managing the captured firearms.
Dave and Cody were filling the tanker truck with fuel. I watched them for a moment, and a worry crept in.
That tanker... it'll be a target for raiders no matter where we go.
It wasn't even in the same league as jerry cans. Three thousand gallons of fuel would make any raider willing to take a lot more risk.
Then Dave walked over, as if he'd read my mind.
"Right? Hauling that thing around whole is basically putting up a billboard that says, 'Please come rob me.'"
"Yeah. That's what I'm worried about."
The moment I answered, Dave's eyes lit up.
"Then how about we slap a bunch of hazardous material warnings on that tank? HAZARDOUS WASTE, SULFURIC ACID, that kind of thing. And a great big skull-and-crossbones while we're at it."
"Hmm... better than nothing, I guess."
"I can do that."
Cody, who'd been listening nearby, jumped in.
"The farm warehouse has spray paint in every color, and I can design the stencils on the computer and cut the sheets in no time."
I nodded at their proposal.
"Alright. Can't hurt. Let's do it."
While Dave and Cody were mapping out their paint job for the tanker, Frank and Jake came over grinning from ear to ear.
"Looks like it went well."
At my words, Frank gave a thumbs-up.
"Perfect."
Jake stepped up beside me and held out the drone controller. The screen showed a crystal-clear view of the highway half a mile away. When he moved the joystick, the camera panned smoothly left and right. Hitting the zoom button pulled the image in close enough to make out the face of a driver passing by.
"Huh... that's way better than a CCTV."
"Of course it is!"
Frank said, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.
"You think a cheap CCTV camera and a 4K camera off a drone are the same thing? This is dozens of times better."
"But isn't this... a little too obvious? If we just stick it out in the open like that and someone swipes it... Plus, the fact that we're even watching would be exposed. That's a problem."
He puffed out his chest, looking immensely proud of himself.
"You think the great Frank would do a sloppy job like that?"
"You pulled something, didn't you?"
"You bet. There happened to be an old bird's nest sitting on a utility pole nearby, abandoned. I hid the camera inside it, nice and sneaky, and locked it down with waterproof fabric and silicone. Nobody's going to notice unless they're really looking."
He wasn't done.
"And I built a camouflage box under an old telecom junction box, about head height, to stash a backup battery. Swap the battery once a day, and that post stays covered twenty-four seven. Haha."
"Nice. Real nice. Good work, Frank."
"Thanks. And being able to watch the feed on the controller is going to be a huge plus."
"Yeah. Means we can observe from anywhere we go."
While everyone was still marveling at Frank and Jake's work, Jake approached me carefully.
"Uh... Boss. There's something I need to talk to you about."
"Go ahead."
"I'd like to find a way to sell the crops we've got stacked in the warehouse."
"Crops?"
"Yes. Almonds, pistachios, walnuts, and dried fruit like raisins. All of it keeps long-term."
I asked, puzzled.
"Those are easy to store. Can't we just keep them as emergency rations?"
Jake scratched his head, looking uncomfortable.
"Well... there's kind of a lot of it."
"How much are we talking?"
"It'll be faster if you just see it yourself."
Jake loaded Frank and me into his pickup and drove us to a massive steel warehouse about a hundred and fifty yards from the farmhouse. He unchained the heavy warehouse doors and swung them open, and an unbelievable sight filled our eyes.
"Holy... good God!"
Frank shouted like he was about to faint.
Inside, enormous sacks were piled like mountains, stretching from the floor nearly to the ceiling. Almonds, pistachios, walnuts... even a rough estimate put it at dozens of tons. I stared at Jake, just as stunned.
"This was all supposed to go out for domestic sale and export. But the harvest ran late this year, and then the logistics chaos delayed the shipments."
"..."
"Then the volcanoes blew, and the shipments stopped for good. We couldn't even get trucks... so it just sat here. There's probably a good three or four container-loads of it."
"How much, exactly?"
"I don't have an exact number, but it's definitely over a hundred tons."
Frank muttered, looking dazed.
"Yeah... this isn't something we can just eat our way through."
I had to agree. This wasn't emergency food anymore. In the new world, it was a powerful asset. But we couldn't haul it around with us, and throwing it away would be a crime.
"Alright. Let's figure out a way to move this."
That evening we gathered again in the mansion's living room. The topic of the day was what to do with the mountain of produce sitting in the warehouse. I started with Jake.
"Can we still work with your old buyers?"
"The accounts themselves are still around. The problem is finding transport willing to come all the way out here, and even if they do, we can't trust the drivers. And the biggest issue is that the big companies won't pay in cash."
"Got it. Oh, and Jake — just in case, you should pull as much cash as you can while you still can."
"We're fine. The moment things went south, my father already pulled a substantial amount of cash from the bank. I've been managing it."
Then Frank, who'd been lost in thought, spoke up.
"Trying to work through normal distribution channels in a world like this is how you get burned. There's only one sure method: sell it ourselves."
Dave shot back.
"Sell it ourselves? Frank, you planning to retail that mountain one bag at a time? We'll be at it until the next ice age."
Frank grinned and kept going.
"You start with retail. Even selling at list price, word gets around and the big buyers come sniffing. That's how business works."
"Hold on."
Gunner cut in, his expression grim.
"He's not wrong, but right now the two things that matter most in this world are food and fuel. Putting product out in the open is the same as hanging a sign for raiders that says, 'Come on in, take it all.'"
"..."
"And we can't exactly run a shop with guns drawn. One or two guys wouldn't cut it, and we can't all sit around guarding merchandise either."
Gunner's practical point cast a shadow over every face in the room. Then Frank thumped his chest, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.
"That problem? Leave it to Frank. I'll solve it — again."
Every eye in the room locked onto him.
"That travel stop we hit right before we got here. I'm going to crack that place open."
"And do what, exactly?"
"Think about it. It's not a giant chain like Flying J, which means they don't have to answer to corporate."
"..."
"The manager has a lot more discretion. If we get lucky, we might even deal with the owner directly. Plus last time I was there, they had their own armed security, so the place is already locked down. It's the perfect spot, and it's close."
Jake added.
"We tried supplying them before, actually. The terms were too strict, so we dropped it."
But Frank was brimming with confidence.
"That was peacetime. Things are different now. I'm telling you, I'll crack it."
He looked around at all of us.
"That rest stop gets a massive amount of traffic. And what do all those people want most right now? Long-shelf-life food and fuel."
"..."
"Their shelves are already starting to empty out. We walk in with almonds and pistachios, and that manager isn't going to slam the door in our faces — he's going to roll out the red carpet. This is a can't-miss deal."
I still had a concern.
"It's a good idea, Frank. But..."
"..."
"Sending one of our people out alone to a place we can barely even radio... that's too dangerous. Especially in a world like this."
Jake quietly stepped in.
"Uh... Boss. We've got about fifteen GMRS radios we used for farm operations. They're 5.5-watt units, so they reach pretty far."
Frank's eyes lit up.
"Oh yeah? What model?"
"Wouxun KG-935G Plus."
"Huh, those are excellent!"
"Even without a repeater they'll do six miles easy, and we've already got a repeater up on the water tower, so within twenty miles the signal comes through clean."
Something clicked. Managing a farm this vast and remote meant they'd already been living self-sufficient for a long time. This place was already optimized for the world we were in now.
"Alright, Frank. Give it a shot."
"Just you wait. Haha."
I felt a surge of confidence. Frank wasn't a blowhard. Nine times out of ten, what he promised came true, and when it didn't, he always found another way.
Frank clapped Jake on the shoulder.
"Hey, Jake. Before we roll out tomorrow morning, we ought to cook up a game plan that'll knock that truck stop owner's socks off, don't you think?"
"Sounds good, Frank!"
Jake answered with a bright grin. Watching the two of them, already getting along so well, I couldn't help but smile.
Then Dave jumped in, not about to be left out.
"Hey, hey. I'm coming too. You think I'd miss out on something this fun?"
"Dave, just don't put your foot in your mouth. You wouldn't know the first thing about negotiation. Heh."
"Excuse me? I'm coming along so you don't get lost, that's what!"
While the two of them bickered and joked, it was settled without anyone needing to say it: tomorrow, the three of them would head to the truck stop together.
With every passing day, each of them was finding their own place, their own role.
Nobody was arguing with Frank's confident plan anymore. I looked at him and Jake.
"By the way, Frank, Jake. There's a saying in Korea."
"A saying?"
"Yeah. 'Hold on too tight and it turns to shit.'"
Everyone looked puzzled at the sudden proverb. But Frank got it instantly and slapped his knee.
"Ha. That's a damn good one. In a world like this, moving what you've got beats sitting on it. That's the idea, right?"
"Exactly. Turning a profit matters less than moving this asset safely and getting what we actually need. Don't push the negotiation too hard."
Jake nodded.
"Understood, Boss. I won't get greedy."
The meeting broke up, and everyone started bustling around, getting ready for tomorrow.
Evening settled in, and the farm's peaceful dinner hour arrived. We finished a hearty meal, and with a few lingering laughs, someone turned on the TV.
The screen showed the flags of all four states hanging side by side.
The footage cut to a military base, where Federal armored units were preparing to deploy. Tanks and armored vehicles poured onto the roads in an endless stream. A real war was about to begin.
The anchor's face grew even graver.
Requisition. A wartime word for plunder — the kind a nation commits when it comes to take what it wants.
Dave looked at me, his face gone pale, and one by one every pair of eyes in the living room turned toward me.
Every one of those looks carried the same question: What do we do now?