Survivors – A Novel of the Coming Collapse

“The way I see it, everyone’s going to be starving here, inside a few weeks. The deer hunting has gone straight to la mierda since the mountain lion population explosion. And even if they wanted to grow row crops here instead of hay, the irrigation water will go away if the power goes out. This country is going back to a big desert, especially in the lower elevations.”

Reuben chimed in, “Diego says the grid will probably collapse in a few weeks.”

A voice from the hallway startled the boys, “That’s right, it’s going be a cold and hungry winter.” It was Diego Aguilar. Diego walked into the room and sat down on a wooden chair that faced the bunk beds where the boys sat. He folded his hands across his potbelly.

“You Phelps boys are, as they say, ‘in an unenviable position.’ You’ve got no familia. You are maybe just old enough to do a man’s job, but there are no jobs anyhow. You can maybe go beg for a place to stay, maybe with one of the churches that still send the support money. Or maybe you could ask for a job and bed and board on one of the reservations-”

Matthew interrupted. “That’s easy for you to say. You’ve got a real last name. But we’re Indians who don’t even know what tribe we belong to! I was a baby that got left in a fruit box on the doorstep of the Lutheran church in Rio Rancho. All that they knew was my first name. ‘Please take good care of Matthew.’ That was all that the note said. Not even signed.”

Aguilar eyed the boys. Reuben Phelps and Matthew were obviously both American Indians, with round, fairly indistinct facial features that did not give a hint of a tribal connection. Hopi? Navajo? Zia? Mescalero? Probably not Apache.

The old Mexican said, “I’m sorry, you’re right. Forget the reservations. They’re practically starving there already. They been taking government handouts for too long.”

After a pause, Aguilar went on, “I talked with the headmaster. He says you are each welcome to take two good saddle-broke horses. Two apiece. I’ll get you all tacked up-each with one vaquero saddle and one pack saddle. The sleeping bags we got here are all cheapies, so you’ll each get two of them. That way you can put one inside the other so you can sleep warm.”

The boys looked at each other nervously and then turned toward Aguilar.

“I’ve got to warn you boys: Don’t go anywhere near Albuquerque or Santa Fe. There’s nothing but trouble in the cities these days. That’s where they’ll be hunting each other to eat. I’m not kidding. And stay away from the border. Hombres malos, there. And since winter is coming, you gotta stay out of the high country.”

The boys nodded.

Shad asked, “So which way do we go?”

“My mama told me, in lean times you head toward the bean pot. I think you should go right on through the Jicarilla Apache Res, and go up toward the northwest corner of the state. That’s pretty good country, and there, many places they have gravity-fed water-you know, from an irrigation ditch. Not like our water here, where water has gotta be pumped. You could stop at churches along the way and ask about finding work.”

Reuben offered, “Maybe we could get jobs as cowboys.”

“You’ve never roped a cow in your life,” Shad chided.

“I could learn.”

Diego Aguilar added: “He’s right. You could learn. So I’ll also give you boys las reatas. I still have several good lassos that your classmates never managed to destroy.” He stroked his chin. “But don’t forget, your main value is that you got strong backs. I’ll send you each with a pair of flat-forged hay hooks and a pair of heavy gloves. I know for sure you can move hay bales. I seen you do it. You boys all know how to shoot, too, so you’ll each get one of the school’s old .22 target rifles. They are single-shots and their barrels are heavier than an anvil. But at least you’ll be able to shoot rabbits. And from a long distance, seeing them, nobody will know that they’re just .22s, so hopefully they will leave you alone.”

Diego stroked his chin, and went on, “My plan is to send you boys with as much good camping gear as your pack horses can carry. Anything extra you can trade for food. Same for the .22 shells that I’m giving you. I won’t tell the headmaster how many bricks of .22 ammo you have until after you are long gone.”

The three boys nodded, and Diego continued, “The way I see it, he is treating you mean and sending you packing, so I have to balance it out by sending you out heavy, to give you the best chance possible.”

“We should be fine,” Shad added hopefully.

“I hate to see the headmaster cut you boys loose like this. But at least you’ve got some practical skills, and you’re hard workers, and you’ll have good horses under you.”

“Don’t worry about us, Diego,” Matthew assured him.

Shadrach stood up to shake Aguilar’s hand. “Thank you, sir. I promise you that we’ll look after each other. So, yeah, don’t worry about us. We’re Phelpses, and that means even though we aren’t brothers by blood, we’re still brothers in Christ.”