Oranges
By the time we left the farm, the anxiety had burned away. In its place, something faint and uncertain — a thin shoot of hope — had begun to take root, and with that, the long meeting finally came to a close.
Before dinner I stepped out of the trailer to walk Wolf, and spotted Anderson's three vehicles just pulling into the parking lot.
"Did you get the fuel?" I asked as Anderson climbed down from his truck.
"We did. The line was long, so we had to wait, but we managed to get some."
Relief was written all over his face.
"They'd only fill five gallons per vehicle, or one jerry can if you brought your own. Still, I'll take it."
Anderson hesitated a moment, then asked carefully.
"Um... if it's not too much trouble, would you consider staying a little longer? At least until the next fuel sale?"
"As a matter of fact, we'd already decided to stay here for a while."
Anderson's face brightened.
"That's a relief. Getting fuel is great, but the market hours and the gas station hours overlap almost completely."
I thought about that for a second.
"Five gallons per vehicle — that's right?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Then tomorrow, once we've dropped our goods at the market, I'll lend you our two pickup trucks. Take those and fill your jerry cans."
Anderson looked startled.
"But... that's basically handing your fuel-buying rights over to us, isn't it?"
"We'd have the same headache trying to do both things at once anyway. Whoever has the time should handle it. Go fill them up."
I said it like it was nothing. Anderson bowed his head, thanking me again and again. After a moment, he seemed to change the subject.
"Did you happen to see any wood stoves at the market? We bought four Cubic Mini models today. Figured we could save a little propane on heating."
"Oh, really? Mind if I take a look?"
"Of course."
Anderson showed me the small wood stoves in the bed of his pickup with unmistakable pride. Inside the boxes were compact, solid little stoves of the kind you'd find in a hunting cabin or a camp. The build quality was excellent, and they were small enough to use inside a vehicle without any trouble.
The moment I turned one over in my hands, something clicked into place.
Why didn't I think of this sooner?
This wasn't about sticking a stove in a tent. If we embedded a wood stove — or better yet, a wood-fired boiler — right into the trailer itself, we could handle both heat and hot water without burning a drop of diesel or propane.
Build holders on the outside of the trailer for firewood, and they'd even give us some ballistic protection.
My head was full of wood boilers. I said goodbye to Anderson and walked Wolf around the rest stop, but the idea wouldn't let go. Unlike diesel or propane, wood was the most primitive and most reliable heat source there was — you could find it anywhere. Built right, we could get through winter warm without ever worrying about fuel.
I pulled Mike aside. He'd been overseeing Damon and Carlos as they transferred cargo from the minivan into the new dry van.
"Mike, I need a word."
"What's on your mind?"
"Wood stoves."
"Ah. Right. We can't keep burning diesel forever."
"Exactly. But instead of using them as a stopgap — what if we built it into a real system?"
Mike looked puzzled.
"A system? Don't you just cut a hole in the trailer wall for the flue?"
"That'd work for now. I'm thinking longer term."
I sketched the idea in the air with my hands.
"We install a wood-fired boiler in that dry van. Build a separate feed door so you can load the wood from outside."
"Then we use that boiler to heat water and run lines into my trailer and the other campers right next to it. Radiators for cabin heat, plus domestic hot water. A central heating system."
The longer I talked, the more interest kindled in Mike's eyes.
"Hmm... you've got a point. Especially if we're going to be living in these things long-term. And it wouldn't just be firewood or pellets — anything that burns. We'd stop throwing trash away and start using it as fuel."
"Right. Think we can do it?"
"Well, Frank can figure out the DC pump and the electrical controls somehow... Yeah. If we can get enough materials, it's not impossible."
He thought for a moment, then started listing what we'd need.
"First, plenty of PEX tubing that can handle hot water, plus all the fittings to connect it. A few small radiators or automotive heater cores to dump the heat."
"Valves to control the flow, and a heat exchanger to keep the heating loop separate from the domestic hot water... We pick things up one at a time at the market, post on Reddit — we'll find it all somehow."
Listening to him, I could feel us evolving into something closer to true asphalt nomads. We moved, we provided for ourselves, and when we needed to, we built a foothold and upgraded our way of life. At the same time, a restlessness settled in — we had to get as much done as we could while Tahoe's market was still functioning.
The next morning, our small peace was broken by a minor commotion. A few curious locals had come to gawk at our convoy and gotten too close to the tanker — one of our most critical assets. Carlos, who'd been on watch all night, spotted them and ran them off, polite but firm.
Frank clicked his tongue at the sight.
"We need to get those trail cams up, and fast. Problem is, I've got to be at the market today..."
"I'll do it. Just show me how."
Jake stepped up without hesitation. Frank nodded and opened the Cuddeback CuddeLink system box.
"This thing's a mesh network — the cameras talk to each other. When one of them picks something up, it relays the signal until it hits this base station."
Frank held up a receiver no bigger than his palm, the base unit, and I cut in.
"Put the base in the bus motorhome. We'll want it monitored around the clock, and there's always someone in there."
Frank started walking Jake through the installation.
"Height's the most important thing. Set them too low and raccoons and every other little critter will keep you up all night. About three feet off the ground should be about right."
"Got it. So one on each corner of Bill's truck — four cameras, all four sides?"
"No. That'll leave you blind spots."
Frank marked six exact points around Bill's truck and the tanker.
"Six cameras, overlapping coverage. That's how you do it right. Same layout on the boss's truck and trailer."
We were clearly going to need more trail cams.
"Frank, when you hit the market today — those."
"Trail cams?"
"Yeah. Buy as many as you can. I want them on Tank's new dry van and around the motorhome too."
"Good thinking."
We headed back to the Tahoe market. Bill and Gunner stayed behind to keep watch on the rest stop. Dave and Frank got the eggs and produce ready to sell, and Sarah and Raven came along. Mike and I would drive the five-ton truck over to pick up the new trailer.
Just before we left, Gunner tossed a remark at Frank.
"Frank, if anybody at the market is selling brass, grab some."
"Spent casings? What's a fair price?"
Gunner thought for a second.
"Doesn't matter the caliber. Ten spent casings for one live round is a decent trade."
At the market we split up. Frank and Dave headed for the stall area. Sarah and Raven went looking for food and clothing. We all carried our own weapons as a matter of course — even the women had MP5s slung over their shoulders — which drew some looks, but nothing came of it.
Mike and I made for the west end of the parking lot, where the trailer deal was supposed to go down. The white dry van waiting there was far cleaner than it had looked in the Reddit photos.
"Heh. Better shape than I expected."
Mike said it with a note of genuine admiration. As we pulled up, a middle-aged man standing beside the trailer came over.
"Reddit?"
For a second I was back in Korea — two strangers meeting for a used-goods deal, greeting each other with a simple Karrot?
"That's us."
We unloaded seven jerry cans of diesel and a hefty sack of almonds from the bed of the five-ton, as agreed. The seller rapped on the cans, looking satisfied, then pointed at the trailer.
"Like we talked about. I threw in some odds and ends — consumables and spare parts. A spare tire, a wheel bearing set, electrical connectors, that kind of thing. Make good use of them."
The deal wrapped up more easily than I'd expected. As we turned to go, Mike struck up a conversation as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"This town seems like a decent place to live. Everywhere else has gone to hell."
The seller let out a long breath.
"Looks that way from the outside. Eating, surviving — we can handle that for now. Every warehouse is overflowing with stockpiles. But we've completely broken with the federal government, so how long it lasts... that's what worries me."
He looked around the parking lot.
"The mayor likes to boast we've got a year's worth of fuel. But we don't produce a damn thing here, do we? If a year from now we're in the exact same situation, nobody's going to have an answer."
Listening to him, I understood why he'd been so hungry for diesel.
We hooked the new dry van to the five-ton and rolled toward the parking lot entrance, looking for Frank's stall. In the distance, Frank and Dave were surrounded by people, both of them grinning like idiots.
"Heh. Look at those faces. They've pulled off another one."
As we came up, Dave's eyes lit up.
"Chan, Mike. This guy's completely unhinged! He didn't just sell the eggs — he got people bidding against each other."
Frank lifted his chin, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.
"That's how the last dozen went for a cool eighty dollars. And we moved more than half the almonds and pistachios we brought."
"I've got to hand it to you, Frank. You can hustle."
Frank's shoulders swelled even further.
"All right. Let's do some shopping of our own."
"I'll sell what's left. Frank, you go with the boss."
At Dave's word, Frank, Mike, and I headed back into the market.
We went back to the hunting outfitter first and bought twelve more trail cameras. Hearing we were taking the last of their stock gave me a strangely satisfying feeling. Then four Cubic Mini wood stoves, and at the hardware store we carefully gathered everything we'd need for a wood-fired boiler: a 12V DC circulation pump, rolls of PEX tubing, and a full assortment of brass fittings and valves.
As we hauled the gear, Frank spoke up.
"Rather than building the whole thing from scratch, we should post on Reddit first. See if anyone's selling a decent off-the-shelf unit, just in case."
We were still collecting boiler parts at the hardware store when Frank suddenly snapped his fingers.
"Ah, crap — Tank!"
He pulled out his radio.
Frank signed off and led us to a nearby boot stall. From the display he picked out the toughest-looking pair he could find — Red Wing waterproof work boots — confirmed the size, paid without hesitation, and threw in two pairs of thick socks for good measure. After that we met the seller Jake had already arranged through Reddit and bought the medication and feed additives meant to be mixed into the chicken feed.
By the time we finished shopping, Sarah and Raven had joined us with carts piled high, and Dave came jogging up with a grin that split his face.
"Sold it all. Completely sold out."
Dave was still riding high when he suddenly stopped in the middle of the market and sniffed the air.
"Is it just me, or does something smell... really fresh?"
We followed his gaze. There, stacked in a heap that had no business existing in a world this gray, was a dazzling mound of color. Oranges.
We bought every orange they had left on the spot, then shuttled back and forth between the pickups and the trucks, taking as many as we could carry.
People at the market seemed to figure that cash sitting in a pocket could become worthless at any moment. We were in the same boat — whatever we earned that day, we spent that day, on whatever was available. Even so, we set aside the bills that accumulated, saving them for when expensive equipment came up for sale.
Inside the Tahoe market, money was less a currency than a kind of chit — a unit of account for exchange. The people who didn't trust cash and insisted on barter got squeezed in the haggling, and so, almost without meaning to, they ended up selling what they'd brought for paper bills after all.
We left that marketplace behind, loaded down and satisfied, and got ready to head back to the rest stop that served as our temporary base.
On the drive back, the new dry van hitched to the five-ton, Mike spoke up.
"Watching that market, I thought for a minute it wouldn't be so bad to put down roots here... But no. Shame to say it, but this isn't a place we can stay for long."