Zombies in Paradise (Love in the Age of Zombies Book 2) Page 17

  “How are you able to ensure everyone’s safety? How are you surviving?”

  “We figured out early on that zombies were unwilling to cross bodies of water: lakes, rivers, even large creeks. We have Lake Michigan to the west, Betsie Bay and Betsie River to the south and east, and Crystal Lake to the north. We ran a fence between Crystal Lake and Lake Michigan, and another fence from the Crystal Lake dam to the Betsie River. Are you familiar with this area?”

  “Yes, I vacationed at Lake Menekaunee for years. We used to come into Frankfort all the time, sometimes drove into Beulah or to the Cherry Hut. I liked to visit the J&M Rock Shop.”

  “So you know there’s not a lot of distance between the southwest end of Crystal Lake and Lake Michigan. It’s about a half-mile. And It’s just over a half-mile from the other side of Crystal Lake to the Betsie River. We had crews out every day putting up fences and scouting for zombies. Once the fence was up, we were cordoned off and the zombies couldn’t get in.”

  “You were able to get rid of them all?”

  “Zombie patrols got rid of most of them, but there are still some in the woods. It was a pretty active job for awhile, but we found less and less as the weather got cold, and they were easy to eliminate. Now that the weather is warming up, we’ve started seeing a few. It’s still a dangerous situation.”

  “And the hospital is open?”

  “Yes, barely,” Nadine responded. “We have a doctor, a pharmacist, and a handful of nurses. A couple across the bay provides the hospital with power from their solar panels.

  “You mean Jake and Lee? I met them on my way here.”

  “Did she show you her boobs?” Arthur asked with a grin.

  Kevin felt himself blush. “Yes, she did.”

  Nadine sighed and said, “That woman. What are we going to do about her?”

  “We’re not going to do anything. If not for Jake and Lee, we might not be alive,” said Stan. “They’re our benefactors. By choice. And she has gorgeous boobs.” He turned to me. “Jake was able to stockpile quite a few solar panels before the grid went down, and of course there’s his wind turbines. He generates far more power than he needs, and he donates the rest to the county. The hospital gets priority.”

  “Who’s the authority here? Who makes the rules and who enforces them?”

  “There’s not one person. Right now a group of folks make the decisions and call themselves the city council, but there’s talk about swapping members out this fall. Some people want there to be a lottery so everybody gets a chance to serve. Others want to have an election. Personally, I’d rather it be a lottery. The idea of having people campaign for the job turns my stomach. I think it should be the civic duty of everyone to serve a term, just like jury duty,” finished Nadine with a look of resolve in her eyes.

  “And the problem with that,” Stan said, “is that we have a very limited supply of people who know how to efficiently run a municipality like Frankfort. We can’t have council members who don’t know how to get things done or delegate responsibility or make an unpopular decision. We can’t put people in charge of Frankfort who don’t know what the hell they’re doing. That’s asking for disaster.” Kevin got the feeling this was an old, unsettled argument.

  “Nadine,” Arthur said, “you’re saying we shouldn’t let the majority decide who to put in charge, but if the majority doesn’t decide, who does? A few people who will run everything? Like a plutocracy? That’s just asking for trouble! Let the people elect who should run Frankfort, not a privileged few!”

  “And create in Frankfort a political system filled with, ugh, politicians. No, thanks! There has to be a better way.”

  Kevin interrupted the political discussion, feeling the futility of either side to sway the other’s opinion. “But you have some kind of security system in place?”

  “We agreed early on that to qualify for certain benefits. Everybody has to spend some time doing community work, whether that means going on security patrol or watching a handful of toddlers. For our community to work, everyone has to pitch in. There’s no other way to make it fair. We’ve had a lot of grumbling about forced labor, but that grumbling usually stops when we have a crisis. If a zombie gets loose and bites people, who turn into zombies and bite others, we could have another scenario as horrible as the pandemic last fall. That’s how we developed the barter system. Nobody gets anything for free except a few terminally ill people and some Alzheimer’s patients. The community voted to support them. Otherwise, you can barter your time or your product or your talent or your services and get credit to purchase something you need. And as certain items get scarce, their value goes up. You wouldn’t believe how long a guy has to work to earn enough credits for a package of toilet paper, for God’s sake,” he said with a sad shake of his head.

  “What about the people who have limited education and skills?”

  “Everybody can do something. Right now we’re in the process of planting a community farm. Anyone can dig holes or plant seeds or pull up weeds. We have a few mentally challenged citizens who sit with the cancer patients and Alzheimer’s patients. In the old days both groups would have sat around watching TV. Now we have the keepers reading books to the patients, or taking them for walks, or playing games. And we’ve noticed an improvement in the mentally-challenged. They’re not smarter—that will never happen—but they’re more balanced. Helping someone worse off than them has had an impact. They develop empathy and social skills and some enjoy it so much they volunteer to work extra hours.”

  “We had a few people who refused to do any civic duty, so they earned no credits for bartering. It didn’t take long for them to run out of food or something else they needed, and their hunger propelled them to get on board and earn credits. On the other hand, if you have someone who puts in twice as many hours, they earn more credits, so they can afford to buy better produce, or pay someone to watch their kids, or try to start their own business.

  “How do you have enough to eat?”

  “The winter was tough, not being able to grow food. But thankfully we had Jake, who turned out to be quite a guy and pretty smart despite being a stoner. He donates his excess power and turns over all the goods from his greenhouse to the council. Well, except for some of what he grows in his marijuana greenhouse. He keeps some of that for himself. Did you see Lee’s boobs?” Arthur asked again with a bright look in his eyes.

  “You already asked him. He said yes. Let it go, Arthur.” Turning back to Kevin, Nadine said “We have Lake Michigan for fishing. We’re expecting a big year for salmon and lake trout. We have the rivers for brown trout and panfish. We have a lot of woods with deer, rabbit, and even bear. We have one small cattle farm, a small alpaca herd, and a couple of chicken houses. We’re going to use the community garden to grow as much food as we can, and we’ll preserve much of it. Plus people are finding novel ways to use the big harvests of apples and cherries.”

  “Like me!” Brian called from across the room.

  “Brian made a cherry farmhouse ale last year and a nice pumpkin ale.” That explains his questions about my pumpkin beer, Kevin thought. “He also has been developing some interesting hard ciders. They’re very good. I suspect Frankfort will get back to its roots and a lot of the beverages sold here will be apple based, or cherry based, some of them alcoholic. Even before the grid went down, local apple orchards were selling a lot of hard cider. So we’re likely to have people making alcohol from local crops. But probably not a lot of drinks that are fish-based,” he said with a laugh. “And I’m sure Brian or Rick has some notions about distilling alcohol. The reality is, alcohol takes an edge off the pain of our times. We’ve lost almost everything. It hurts. Alcohol and marijuana help make that loss tolerable.”

  “When I started planning my basement,” Kevin offered, “I decided to get plenty of liquor, soft drinks, and beer. I wasn’t thinking of using them as currency—I just figured that being alone, I’d be bored and lonely and want to drink now and then.”


  “I thought you said your wife moved in,” Nadine asked.

  “That was long after I’d started stocking up. If it’d been up to her, I’d have bought several dozen cases of wine, too.”

  “From Michigan, I hope,” Stan said. Nadine and Arthur glanced at each other and laughed.

  “It’s a running joke,” Arthur explained. “One of Stan’s jobs before the grid went down was chairing a buy local campaign. He got laid off from that job,” he said, still chuckling, “back around October. Now everybody buys local and Stan manages one of the nursing homes.”

  Stan grinned and shrugged. “I changed jobs slicker’n snot on a doorknob. Find a need and fill it.”

  Looking at Nadine, Kevin said, “I appreciate you taking the time to answer my questions, but can we go to the hospital? I told my wife I’d be back home just a few days from now. I’m already going to be a day late and don’t want her to worry. I need to ask the doctors some questions.”

  “See that lady over there?” she nodded toward a table where a woman sat alone with her head bent over a book. Next to her hand was a barely-touched beer. “She’s our one and only pharmacist. She puts in hours at the hospital. Let’s see if she’ll walk you to the hospital.”

  Nadine got up and went to the woman’s table. They chatted for a few moments, then both women came back to the table.

  “Kevin, this is Carolyn. She’s a pharmacist at the hospital and may be able to help you.”

  She was a pretty blonde, on the petite side with a small frame. Pretty eyes! Cute smile! he thought.

  “Hi, I’m Kevin,” he said. “I’m here to check out the hospital. My wife’s pregnant and may need medical attention. If the hospital can help, I’ll bring her here from Ann Arbor. I’m hoping you can give me the nickel tour.”

  She looked Kevin up and down before saying, “Sure, I can take you there now. It’s about time to start my shift, anyway.” The five of them stood up to leave. Brian saw them and called Kevin over.

  “Kevin, if you need a job, come talk to me. I could use another hand. The people I have are learning quick, but they’re not brewers.”

  “I’ll do that. I even have a recipe idea to discuss. Have you brewed a spring beer using cilantro?”

  “Cilantro . . . no, I haven’t. But I can see where it’d work. I’d love to hear your idea!”

  Rick looked over from the other side of the bar and said “He’s the art side of Stormcloud. I’m the business side. Don’t forget you owe me for a pint.”

  “Brian said the first one was on the house!” Kevin protested.

  “It’s true, I did,” Brian confessed. Rick just shook his head as if admitting defeat. Nadine, Stan, and Arthur told Kevin it was nice to meet him and good luck, then Kevin and Carolyn started walking toward the hospital.

  “Do you know where we’re going?” Carolyn asked.

  “I couldn’t tell you street names, but I think you get on M-22 for a few blocks and then take a left and climb the hill.”

  “That’s right. The hospital is on top of one of the bluffs. I wish the pharmacy had a window overlooking the lake, but we don’t have any windows, period.”

  “How can you see what you’re doing? Do you have electric lights?”

  “The pharmacy has one light fixture. It’s an LED strip. Quite nice actually. Jake loaned it to us.”

  “But what is there to do? Surely you don’t have a lot of medicine left.”

  “We don’t have much. We have groups who forage for anything the town can use. A lot of the pharmacies were hit pretty hard. People just took stuff, probably not even knowing what it’s for. And without the internet, how are they going to find out? They probably won’t. So a very nice antifungal drug, for example, will probably be wasted because whoever took it doesn't even know what it’s for.”

  They headed north through a neighborhood bordering downtown. It was obvious how the standards for a well-kept yard had changed. Most of the lawns had ample growth of calf-high new spring grass. The only people in town who had working lawnmowers were those few with the old fashioned reel push mowers. A lot of people had tilled both their front and back yards for gardens. Kevin saw more than one house with people working the soil. Early spring crops were already shooting up. Other folks just let their lawn go, or maybe those houses were empty. Probably thirty percent of the yards were overgrown.

  “I notice a lot of gardens. Where do people get their plants and seeds?” he asked.

  “You know that old saying necessity is the mother of invention? Some folks figured out back in March that they might be able to earn some credits if they germinated vegetable and herb seeds and used them for trade. We had a handful of home gardeners who were also heirloom seed collectors, so we have quite a variety. Plus Jake has been very generous with his seedlings. He has the equipment to ensure a very high germination rate and he also takes cuttings and clones them. But he doesn’t have much of a variety. The seeds he had in storage were hybrids especially bred for hydroponic gardening.”

  “Things really are going back to the old days—or rather the old, old days,” Kevin commented, “back before we had factory farms and cold storage and cheap transportation. My grandpa used to tell us about being a kid and how excited he was one Christmas when he got an orange and a dime. That was in Illinois. Getting fresh fruit in December was practically a miracle. I don’t suppose we’ll see any oranges or bananas or seafood for a long time.”

  “You’re probably right. But I’ve noticed that people already appreciate what they have more. When you haven’t had fresh vegetables in a few weeks, getting some is a big deal. I can assure you nobody is letting food go to waste anymore.” Carolyn replied. “I don’t know about you, but I had to clean out my fridge once a month to throw away all the spoiled food, mostly leftovers. That will never happen again.”

  “Because you don’t have a fridge?!” Kevin joked.

  “That’s part of it, but mainly because I don’t have leftovers!” She stepped away from him as they walked and looked him up and down. “You seem to be in good health. You must have had plenty of stored goods. If you’ll notice, you won’t see a lot of overweight people in Frankfort these days. Except for people with hormone problems, like hypothyroidism. Six months ago we had plenty of Synthroid on hand, but I realized a couple of months ago that we’d run out soon. I called a meeting of all the thyroid patients. I suggested everyone skip every third dose. I also gave them a list of foods called goitrogens to avoid because they interfere with their thyroid. Some of them were not happy to hear they had to avoid broccoli and cabbage and cauliflower, because they’re easy to grow in our climate. But I made it very clear to everyone that it was only a matter of time before I ran out of thyroid medicine. Nearly everyone agreed to cut back. So most of them now are slightly under medicated and they’ve started losing energy and gaining weight.”

  “Didn’t they used to make thyroid medicine from animals?”

  “Yes, porcine in particular. For almost a hundred years it was the only treatment available. But then Synthroid was released and the pharmaceutical industry convinced doctors it was superior. The truth is, for many people the porcine thyroid extract was more effective with fewer side effects than Synthroid. But because doctors were convinced that natural remedies were practically barbaric, they would only prescribe the synthetic versions despite their patients’ complaints that they didn’t feel as well.”

  “Is there a chance you could learn to make the natural versions? Can’t you make it the way they used to?”

  “Yes, it’s possible, and I’ve already talked to cattle and pig farmers. When it’s slaughter time we’re going to be meticulous about removing their thyroid gland so we can learn how to process it. But it’s not just Synthroid we’re learning to replace; people figured out pretty quickly that they’ll have to grow some of their own medicine. We have a whole cottage industry now devoted to medicinal crops and even have a botánica in town.”

  “What’s a botánica? An h
erb store?”

  “Pretty much. People have embraced the idea of medicinal crops and herbs in general. Some of my patients who were on antidepressants are cultivating St. John’s Wort, for example. And, of course, there’s the nonsense Jake is promoting.”

  “You’re opposed to what Jake’s doing?”

  “I wouldn’t say I’m opposed to it; I’d say I approach it conservatively. We don’t know enough about the long-term effects of self-medicating with marijuana. It might turn out to be a great solution; it might turn out to cause a lot of problems. I especially worry about giving it to kids whose bodies and brains haven’t finished developing yet. Marijuana could interfere with their development, but that will take decades to determine. I think people rushed into it prematurely. And to me it sounds like snake oil. I’ve seen claims that it cures everything from cancer to tooth decay to warts. I think it’s an overhyped solution to an unresolved underlying problem: people want to escape reality. Getting high doesn’t change reality. It just tricks your brain. It lights up your pleasure receptors so you only think you feel better.”

  Kevin didn’t tell Carolyn about Tammy using marijuana when she had cancer and how it eased her pain, and how her quality of life improved. But he noted her support for using an extract from dead pigs and her support for using an plants to treat depression. Her lukewarm support for marijuana seemed a bit of a contradiction.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kevin and Carolyn walked up the hill to the hospital, past the signs pointing to the emergency entrance. The hill was a lot steeper than Kevin remembered, but he had always been in a car when ascending the hill. He was only slightly winded when they got to the top, but he could feel a slight burn in his calves.

  “All the entrances are locked except the emergency entrance. The ER is the only part of the hospital with power. The rest of the hospital is empty. They’ve cannibalized as much equipment as they can from other departments. There’s no way to get in except through the ER.