Survivors – A Novel of the Coming Collapse

“You’ve got to understand that we had a big ranch but we only got money once or twice a year out of it. The money wasn’t very free. All the money you got was in gold coin. I remember I was nearly fifteen or sixteen years old before I saw much paper money. It was all gold and silver. They didn’t have any greenbacks that I remember. My dad would take the wool and mutton to sell, and he’d come back with some tobacco sacks full of twenty-dollar gold pieces. He used to drive three or four hundred head of sheep down to Cloverdale. They only brought about $2 a head. A big four horse [wagon-]load of wool taken over to Ukiah would pay for the groceries and clothes for the next winter. That was the big trip of the year, when I was a boy. That was when the money came in. That was the way that we used to get paid for things. Gold and silver coins. As kids, they used to let us play with the gold coins now and again. That was quite a celebration.”

-Ernest E. Rawles (1897-1985)

Their trip to Berea Baptist Church on Sunday was memorable. Kaylee, who attended church only infrequently because of doctrinal differences, stayed at home to guard the roost. Lars, Beth, and Grace drove to church in Beth’s Saturn Vue, since it got better mileage than Lars’s Dodge Durango. They expected a light turnout. From what they had heard, the gasoline shortage had spooked many people into extreme conservation mode. Others were afraid to leave their homes unattended for fear of burglary.

As they pulled off of Blanco Road into the church parking lot, Lars chuckled and pointed to the overflow parking lot behind the church, which now had fifteen horses hitched up to a newly erected rail. Saddles were draped over a row of fifty-five- gallon drums resting on their sides, lined up in a phalanx. After they parked their car, they stepped over to the fence to look at the horses and saddles. Grace exclaimed, “Oooh, Daddy! Are we gonna get a horse?”

“Probably very soon, Anelli,” Lars replied, using her pet name, which was Finnish for “Grace.”

Beth pointed and said, “Notice that three of those are packsaddles?”

Lars replied, “That’s odd.” He made a mental note to donate some more drums, since if the trend in transportation in this new era of insanely expensive gasoline continued, the church would soon need room for more saddles. He could spare the drums, since he had a dozen that had been painted white for use in horseback barrel racing back in the 1970s, but they were now useless for storing fluid, since their bottoms were badly rusted.

After walking through the sanctuary to the building’s multipurpose room for their usual pre-church cup of coffee, they saw that the room was newly lined with two rows of pallet boxes on both sides, for donations. These were marked “Canned Food,” “Perishables,” “Women’s Clothing,” “Boys’ Clothing,” “Girls’ Shoes,” and so forth. As they walked by them, Beth said, “Let’s sort through some extra clothes and shoes that Grace has outgrown, to donate.” Lars nodded in agreement.

Ray, the leader of their adult Sunday school class, was there as usual, but he looked a bit self-conscious, carrying a SIG P250 in a hip holster, with four spare magazines in open-top pouches on the opposite hip. Lars said reassuringly, “I’m glad to see you’re packing. Thanks for making everyone feel safer. Even though the police department is right across the road, we can’t be too careful.” As they sat down at one of the classroom tables, Beth asked quietly, “Is there any way we can still buy handguns?”

Lars shook his head. “No way, hon. You’d have to trade a couple of new cars to get a decent pistol these days.”