Chapter 4

“Okay, that’s it for today,” Stephany said. “We will meet again when there’s something new to discuss.” She stood and smiled at her husband, Gerrard. “I’m ready to go home.”

Abby and I stood from our chairs and stretched as the meeting ended. In the six months since we’d moved to San Antonio, we’d found another ten people traveling the interstates, just like the rest of us, the last pair arriving two months ago. It was interesting that no one had encountered any lone survivors, I’d thought.

Of the twenty-one people in our group, four were under sixteen, and one man was single, apparently by choice. The other sixteen of us, eight men and eight women, had migrated into couples with little fanfare. Oh, we’d all gotten around to making announcements to the group at large, but there was little time for weddings.

Abby set up a school for the kids, which was heavy on science, including practical work, weapons training, and other skills the community used, like cooking and mechanical repair. We had a mechanic, a chef, a nurse, and a welder in our community, and they all taught classes to everyone. I taught driving and vehicle operations, from forklifts to semis, and Gerrard taught about tractors and other farming equipment.

After a month of searching and work, we’d established a home base in a community northeast of San Antonio. It was another warehouse facility, but it was in a secluded area not visible from the interstate. The building was nearly new, and we worked to bring in a dual-fuel generator to provide power for the facility, along with the propane to run it.

The plan was to reopen the natural gas pipeline, once we figured out how to safely accomplish that with no electrical power. In the meantime, we had to find sources of propane, and modify the vehicles we used to burn propane themselves. Our supply of usable diesel fuel was dwindling, and we estimated that, in two months, none of it would be usable.

While Gerrard and his assistants worked on the propane problem, Abby focused her efforts on solar energy for lighting and other less power-intensive energy needs. As we expected our community to grow, we needed sources of fresh food, preferably in climate-controlled areas where we could manage pests, light, watering, and protection from unwanted elements.

Lyudmila Sobol, our resident farmer, took up that challenge. She found several commercial greenhouses nearby, and began growing crops in them. She also rounded up some of the surviving livestock and put them in fields we protected with tall, solar-powered electric fences designed to keep the livestock in, and predators out. Some of us learned how to ride horses from Lyudmila, and we used them extensively on our farm. Since we had no concerns about property lines, we simply fenced in the areas we needed, including using houses as barns and shelters.

The farm provided us with fresh meat, eggs and milk. Since we still had huge stocks of canned goods, we depended more on them for most of our nutrition. By our best estimate, they would be good for another four years, and then we would be on our own. Lyudmila saw that as time enough to firmly establish the farming operation, including facilities to can and store our own food.

Between all of that work, and scouring the area for food and other things we needed, there was little time to just sit and relax. It really was a whole new world, and I found that my pudgy form was shaping up as a result. I mentioned that to Abby one night as we sat in our room. Chanelle was in her own room, doing whatever it was that newly-minted teenage girls did.

Abby laughed. “Yep, you’re looking sexier every day. Even Chanelle noticed.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m certainly not. Besides, it’s a good thing that you’re all healthy.”

I lifted an eyebrow in her direction. “Oh?”

“Yes.” Her smile turned shy. “I’m pregnant, Norm.”

I stood and walked over to kneel in front of her. “That’s wonderful! How far along are you?”

“Probably a couple of weeks.” She teared up and started to cry.

I leaned in and hugged her gently. “What’s wrong? It’s good news, Abby.”

“Is it? What kind of life will our child have, Norm? There are twenty-one of us here. Is that even enough to survive?”

Her statement hit me, and I clung to her as my mind raced. “I don’t know,” I told her, “but we have to try. As long as we’re here, we keep on trying to live.”

She took a moment to compose herself, and then she sat back and dabbed her eyes with a tissue. I returned to my chair as she blew her nose and took a breath. “We’d all have to have as many kids as we could, for generations. We have three women who are forty or over, and one that’s almost sixty. We also have three pubescent or early teen girls, and only one male who’s under thirty. Six of our men are thirty-five or older, which means that they will be elderly by the time any new children are barely forty.”

I sat back and thought about what my wife was saying. “So, there’re twenty-one of us, and we all work practically from daylight until dark.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Abby said as she looked at me.

“Well, in all of that time, have we had anyone get hurt, or get sick? I haven’t even heard anyone complain about being exhausted. Even the girls haven’t complained, and they run all the time.” Abby was staring at me now. “And, what about working in the heat? We’ve all been outside a lot, and we don’t have any air conditioning, something we all have lived with all our lives.”

“Oh, my god,” Abby breathed – and then she giggled.

“What?”

“Stephany complained yesterday that she had a stomach bug, and that Gerrard barely let her sleep at night.” She giggled again.

“Oh, man.” I whistled softly. “Maybe you should suggest that she take a pregnancy test.”

“Who’s pregnant?” Chanelle said from the doorway.

“I am, baby,” Abby replied.

“I heard that part,” she said with a smile. “But you said something about Mizz Stephany.”

“I did, and you won’t, got it? It’s personal, and I’m just speculating.”

“That’s good isn’t it, that the women are getting pregnant?”

“It’s not good for you, though,” I put in. She opened her mouth to protest, and I lifted my hand. “I’m not saying that you’re out there trying. I am saying that, until you’re at least sixteen, getting pregnant could kill you. We don’t have medical care for anything complicated. If you develop complications, it could be fatal for you and the baby.”

“I understand,” she said in a small voice. “I won’t do that.”

“Come here,” I said as stood and held out my arms. “I’m not trying to scare you.”

She stepped up and hugged me as I enveloped her in my arms. “I love you, Chanelle,” I said as I pressed my lips to her hair. “I just want you to be happy and safe.”

“Thank you, Mister Norm. I love you, too.” She sighed and released me, and then went to hug Abby. “I love you, too, Mizz Abby.”

“Thank you, honey. I love you, too. Now, have you finished your homework?”

“I think I need another book from the library.”

“Be sure you check it out so everyone knows you have it,” Abby admonished.

“Yes, ma’am,” Chanelle replied as she turned to leave.

I shook my head and turned back to Abby. “She’s a great kid. What’s she studying?”

“Physics. And she’s good at it.”

“How are her grades?”

“I haven’t set up a grading system; I’m still working on a curriculum.”

“Oh, okay.” I left the conversation at that, and we went back to talking about her pregnancy. Then, we went to bed and practiced the conception process for the next child.

The next month was unremarkable, in that we had resolutions to our immediate needs of food, water, shelter, and transportation. Electrical power was far and away the most important long-term need we hadn’t yet solved. We could power smaller items, but large-scale refrigeration and powering infrastructure such as natural gas distribution systems, was still well beyond our capabilities.

Other things, though, were apparently well within our capabilities. One after another, every married woman turned up pregnant, regardless of her age. Joye, our resident nurse, immediately set up a maternity clinic by raiding area hospitals for the best equipment she could find. We dedicated a solar power array and a backup generator to the clinic to ensure that it could operate independently if needed.

One evening, while Abby and I were resting after dinner, she put down a notebook she was reading from and looked up at me. “I have an answer for you now.”