Chapter 184
Christmas came and went. It was quiet up on our mountain but the same couldn’t be said in other places. It was turning into a particularly bad winter in most of the northern hemisphere, even Georgia and Texas were getting colder than normal temps. Florida was as well but that’s all relative. California was losing a lot of its farm land due to infrastructure failure … not enough water for the farmers to irrigate the big fields. The Midwest had the same problem but thankfully it looked like the grain crops were going to make; assuming they could keep terrorist activity to a minimum to prevent destroying the crops before they could get them out of the field.
Down in Dunnville, however they came to the compromise, outposts were created at both entrances to town at the bridges. Uncle Dakota cussed a bit at the extra attention the MAG patrols got on occasion, but he admitted that there were offsets to it. Such as it was easier to get material for rebuilding the town’s infrastructure. Most of it was reclaimed stuff from where buildings that were damaged beyond repair in the larger cities were taken down to keep them from falling down and doing more damage, but it was still more than most other places could get.
The Chief’s sister documented everything. Most people she told it was for town history and “posterity”, but she was also one slick lady and I heard from Nels Gibson that she was keeping track in case someone came looking for the stuff down the road wanting it back, or compensation for it of some type. And speaking of Nels, he made a special trip up the mountain in January to deliver something that his office had received not long after I had become “incommunicado” after Draft Day.
“Why didn’t you give it to Winn?” I asked.
“Multiple reasons but mostly because it was addressed to you in your maiden name,” he said as he handed the envelope over.
“So?” When he just looked at me, I rolled my eyes. Nels Gibson is going to be a lawyer at the Pearly Gates.
Since he had come up with Uncle Dakota I fed both men. And they needed it. Both were leaner than was healthy. Similar to the way Winn could get no matter how much I tried to feed him up. Healthy fats were just hard to come by in any quantity. I’d found some turkey tail mushrooms
[1] in a protected area that hadn’t gotten destroyed by the light dusting of snow we’d had two days before. I made mushroom and garlic soup with them and some early field garlic
[2] I had found using my nose in the cold air. I also made some Field Garlic Sourdough Crackers
[3] to go with it. And before they left, I dosed both men with Elderberry and Rose Hip Tonic
[4] and sent a bottle of it back to Sherree who I learned just couldn’t get her strength back.
“You got anymore of these kind of ideas?”
“Ideas?” I asked having only caught half the conversation that had been going on around me while I was thinking.
Nels said, “Medicinals. There is a higher than normal amount of illness this year but less and less modern medicine to deal with it.”
Uncle Dakota added, “You say this is made with Rose Hips, them little red balls. They’re all over the place in the cemetery but people just don’t pay attention to them because they’ve always been there. I know I never thought of them as berries or food or whatever the hell they are.”
Pulling up my memory bank on the subject I said, “They’re a type of fruit. Two tablespoons of rose hips contain 76% of the recommended amount of Vit C an adult is supposed to have daily. And ask Mrs. Willowdean for recipes, she’s got a buttload of them as they are some of her secret family recipes.” Both men made a face and I almost laughed. Mrs. Willowdean’s tongue could be at least as sharp as mine and she’d been practicing using it a lot longer than I had.
The only thing that concerned me about replacing citrus-source Vit C with the rose hips-source Vit C is that a few studies said it aided in metabolizing and using belly fat. If people were already suffering from loss of fat in their diets, the rose hips could make a bad problem worse. I made a note of that for Uncle Dakota to give to Monty and he’d just have to decide on a case-by-case basis.
Not long after Uncle Dakota and Nels left we got another visitor. The Woman. I eventually learned her name but for my own reasons I’m not ever going to record it. You can’t take back things you never say and I just would rather be safe than sorry. Winn had taken the letter with him when he took the kids downstairs. The cold was making them sleepy, and it was also zapping Winn’s strength. I was grateful that he was letting me put that salve on his arm because no matter what we were doing it would get dry and try and crack in places if he was outside too much without relief. He said it had never been that bad which told me it was because of other reasons … stress, diet, something. I never missed the internet as much as I did when the books that I’d accumulated didn’t give me the information I was needing.
I went out onto the porch and before she could start talking she started with a dry cough.
“Hold that thought,” I told her before going in and coming back out with the last cup of Elderberry and Rose Hip Tonic. “Drink this. And stop with the face, that’s worse than what the kids do. It isn’t poison you know.”
She gave me Auntie Eye but tossed back the dose and said, “Tastes a hell of a lot better than what the docs are handing out.”
“Lot’s of sick in the ranks?”
“Yeah. But don’t spread it around.”
“Who would I spread it to?”
“Still not getting out much?”
I crossed my arms and said, “What are you up here for? And don’t tell me you were just checking on me to make sure I was behaving, not if you’ve been sick.”
I pointed to the rocker and she sat rather gratefully. Her skin was ashy which wasn’t a good sign. She wasn’t faking illness … or at least recovery from an illness.
“Had time on my hands and did some investigating.”
“Sounds like fun.”
She snorted then said, “It was buried deep, but it has been confirmed that Bartholomew Portelli is dead and that he changed his legal name to his middle name Huebert … or Huebie for short … to try and distance himself from his past. Do you know where his daughter is?”
“I assume with his parents who had custody of her from what he said when we were in school.”
“Hmm. They’ve dropped off the radar. It appears intentionally.”
I shrugged. “Not my business. The Huebie I knew was a decent person, but we weren’t more than classmates, and no one better be trying to rewrite history. I didn’t need to know his past to work with him on school projects, and he was a loner and didn’t appear to be looking for anything else, at least from me. He was all about the don’t-screw-around-in-online-group. He’s the one that set the tone for that sort of thing. He always struck me as someone that didn’t want any kind of trouble.”
“Agreed,” she said, surprising me. “It was Professor Heaton that tried to make it be something other than it was. She was building a soap opera plot for her friend … the mother of the biological father of your daughter.”
“The Sperm Donor, that’s all he ever was,” I said with a growl.
She nodded in understanding which surprised me and even more so when she said, “I’ve got one of those myself. He was never in my life at any point. My mother’s second husband adopted me and he was my dad. So while I understand, if it comes up you’re just going to have to accept how other people look at it. Especially if you ever decide to try and get an inheritance for your daughter.”
“That won’t be happening. The judge removed his parental rights during the trial and all the rest of that legal yada yada. And now he and all the rest are dead. Next subject.”
She let it go but I got the feeling she didn’t agree with me. I could care less if people understand or not. I’ve got his family’s medical history in case Teena ever needs it but that’s all she is ever going to need from that genetic happenstance.
“How do you know what … or how … or whatever … Professor Heaton’s plans?” I asked to fill the silence.
“Funny thing that. For such an academically smart woman, she was dumb as a stump in almost every other area of her life.” I blinked and she just continued. “Her family made some noise at her death. She had a partner that was dependent on her income and wanted her slice of the pie of the estate. Heaton’s office was sealed during the investigation and then afterwords everything was boxed up as evidence in case something came of it down the road. Her appointment book was in a box addressed to Quantico where it appears she was promised a position. The position was not specified in any documentation that has been uncovered so it is possible that she was being scammed or there were plans to Deep Six her. That’s an assumption but no proof currently exists one way or the other. What is known is that she appears to have tried to use one set of connections to help another set.”
“And that means what?”
“She was already deeply involved with the democratic socialist party. It is known that those who must not be named had their hooks into it at several levels. She was paid to gather names of personality types that would be useful come Draft Day. You … she just hated your guts. The … sperm donor … was her god son.”
“We really need to get a theme song for the show called As The Stomach Turns.”
She shrugged. “It happens and it is usually that kind of messiness that uncovers evidence that might otherwise have gone undetected. She met her end before she could reap the consequences of her choices. However …”
“Oh what now?!”
“The investigation into those ‘running hounds’ we’ve spoken of, has lost momentum. It takes a lot of energy to fight a war, especially one with this many fronts. I’m being … reassigned. That might mean something, or it might mean nothing at all. But just in case, you need to watch your back and keep your ear to the ground.”
“Why do you even care?” I asked with honest curiosity.
“Because Kid, you earned it. You could have walked by and no one could have blamed you. But you tried to do the right thing. It should count. Unfortunately not everyone sees it like that. In this case, I do.”
I gave it a thought and then said, “Hang on.”
I went into the kitchen and pulled out a few things. I explained it to Winn after she left and he agreed.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Maybe I believe in things counting as well. Don’t open any of it until you get someplace private so you can repack it in your gear. I know it is all good because I made it; some recently and some in better days. There’s elderberry syrup for colds and flu
[5] in one of the plastic squeeze bottles and in the other is Medicinal Honey with Ginger and Rose Hips
[6]. They aren’t magic bullets but they should help you finish getting over whatever the crud is you have. There is some jerky and some dry soup mixes in case you get caught out while traveling. And there’s an unregistered M9 with a block of ammo in case you need a throw away.”
She gave me a long look and nodded. It had taken time but, we understood each other as much as any such interaction could bring that about.
[1] The Best Recipes to Try With Your Fresh Turkey Tail Mushrooms - Foraged - Foraged
[2] Wild Garlic (aka field garlic, aka Allium vineale) - Backyard Forager
[3] https://www.foodtalkdaily.com/recipes/cooking-method/baking/sourdough-crackers-recipe-with-field-garlic-44465081?amp%3Bdate=20230616&%3Bps=soc_btn
[4] Immune-Boosting Elderberry and Rose Hips Tonic
[5] Brew a Cup of Elderberry Tea for Colds and Flu
[6] How to Make Raw Medicinal Honey with Ginger and Rosehips