An Acquired Taste Page 5

  “Some of them will partner with me for the long term. Others will learn how to provide for themselves and then strike out on their own as you did. Either way, they’ll join our efforts and become part of our solution.”

  “Okay,” the man said with a sense of finality. “I’ll do it. How do I go about it?”

  -12-

  R.J. smiled and took four large wooden traps from a cardboard box.

  From another box he took a pint container marked RODENT BAIT.

  He laid it all on the coffee table between the two men.

  “Have you ever set a mouse trap?”

  “Of course.”

  The chef smiled again and cautioned, “Well, just a word of warning, this ain’t one of them.”

  He elaborated, “This may look like a mouse trap, but its spring is much more powerful. If you let a mouse trap snap on your fingers, you’ll likely curse a blue streak but not do any great damage. This thing can break your fingers.

  “So rule number one is, be careful with it.”

  “Okay. Understood.”

  “Other than that, it works the same way as a mouse trap. Bait it with this stuff. I got it from a pest control warehouse. It’s specially made to attract rats and it works like a charm. If any rat passes within fifty feet of the stuff, they’ll go right to it and start eating it. And then the bar will snap down, break its neck, and we’ll have one less live rat.”

  “What’s in the bait? I’m surprised looters didn’t take it and eat it.”

  “Oh, you’ll understand why when you open the can. It’s the foulest smelling stuff ever. It smells like road kill on a hot summer say. There were some containers there that had been opened, but the looters didn’t try to eat it.

  “How much do I put on the trap?”

  “It doesn’t take much. Maybe half a teaspoon. I’ve killed several hundred rats and I’m just getting to the bottom of my first container. So this will last you for awhile. And it has a screw-on lid so it won’t dry out.

  “If you come across any peanut butter in any of the houses or stores you visit, it works well as a substitute.

  “Now then, have you see any rats around here?”

  “Are you kidding? I see them every damn day. They’ve taken over the place.”

  “Well, with your help and the help of others, we’re going to take it back.

  “Rats don’t like running across the open. They’ll typically run along walls or fences. And they’re creatures of habit. They’ll typically stay within just a block or two of the place they were born their whole lives. If you see a rat running along a wall or a fence, it’s a safe bet he’ll be back, running along that same wall, later in the same day. Maybe several times a day. And chances are many of his rat buddies will as well.”

  “What if it takes me awhile to catch them? What if it takes me so long to catch the sixth one that the first one goes bad?”

  R.J. smiled.

  “Not to worry. I can catch six rats in about two hours. Just put them out in different locations and keep a close eye on them. I can almost bet that by the time you put out your last couple of traps your first ones are already tripped.

  “By the way, what’s your name?”

  “Justin.”

  “Happy hunting, Justin. Bring your rats back when you can, and we’ll turn them into jerky. The whole process takes about six hours from start to finish.”

  “Wow. That long?”

  “Once the meat is cooked and seasoned it has to be cooked slowly so it doesn’t get too tough. But while it’s cooking, if you want, we can trap six more for your next batch.”

  While R.J. and Justin were chatting another man walked up. This one had a girl of twelve or thirteen with him.

  They were both in dire straits. The girl especially was emaciated and weak.

  “Excuse me,” the man said. “I heard a rumor you might have some jerky to trade.”

  R.J. was quick to produce a bag.

  “Have a seat. Try this and tell me what you think of it. Then we’ll talk about how to get more.”

  He handed each of them a bottle of water, and was so concerned about the condition of the girl he went a step further.

  That morning he’d used a Dutch oven to bake two dozen scratch biscuits, placing charcoal beneath and atop the oven to distribute the heat evenly.

  He’d seasoned the biscuits with honey and a bit of butter seasoning.

  It was his best batch yet.

  Far too good not to share.

  And he couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather share with than these two miserable people, who looked like the world had just knocked them down and kicked them in the gut.

  He waited until after they’d each eaten several pieces of the jerky before he sprung the news on them.

  “Please don’t get freaked out on me, but the meat you’ve just eaten came from rats.”

  The man paused for a moment. The girl just looked at him and kept eating. It struck R.J. that she’d become little more than an animal.

  The man took another bite and said as he chewed, “I’ve eaten horse, dog, pigeon and squirrel since this whole damn thing began. I don’t reckon I should cringe at the thought of eating a rat.

  “Actually, it’s pretty damn good.”

  “It’s an acquired taste. But yes, it does taste pretty damn good when it’s prepared properly. Do you and your daughter live close by?”

  “Two buildings over. She’s all I got left, out of seven kids. The others just rotted away, one by one. Their mama was here to help until a couple of months ago. Just keeled over with no warning at all. Heart attack, I suppose. This thing’s been so hard on all of us, and we didn’t get no help from the city.

  “You’d think they would have tried to do something to help.”

  “Well, my friend, they’re helping now. That’s why I’m here, at the request of the city. I’m here to help you learn to catch rats, then how to season them to make them palatable. And how to turn them into jerky if you have any excess. It’ll take a little work on your part, but if you’re willing to do it, there’s plenty of protein out there for the taking.”

  “I’m in. Just tell me what to do.”

  -13-

  “I’m sorry, Miss Scarlett. I’m just scared, that’s all. Isn’t it supposed to knock me over or something? Eddie always said he didn’t want me to shoot because it would knock me over.”

  Scarlett smiled. She was a fiery redhead, many would say quick to anger.

  But she was a very patient teacher.

  “Well, there is a bit of a kick, but it’s not bad compared to a lot of other weapons.”

  “Will it hurt?”

  “No. Not a lot, anyway. You get used to it. And it’s nowhere near big enough to knock you down. And besides, you’re already on the ground.”

  “That’s another thing. Eddie always shot when he was standing up. How come I gotta lay down?”

  “This is the way my father taught me. It’s easier to learn the fundamentals when you’re in the prone position. You have better stability. It’s easier for you to hold the weapon steady when you have the ground to support your elbows.

  “It worked well for me, so I’m going to use the same methods. After you learn all the fundamentals we’ll work on different firing positions. First you have to master this one.”

  “I’m still afraid. I can’t help it.”

  “I’ll tell you what. Let’s forget about sight alignment for now. Let me show you what the recoil feels like so you won’t be afraid of it anymore. Then you can relax a bit. Okay?”

  “Okay. I guess.”

  She scooted a bit closer to him.

  They were both on the ground, both in a classic prone position, both propped up on their elbows.

  The barrel of the rifle was pointed down range at a small firing range about a mile from Baker Street. There were two ranges which were a bit closer, but this was the only outdoor range in the area.

  And indoor ranges were now pretty much wo
rthless.

  They were way too dark.

  Scarlett placed her hand beneath the front hand guards of Bill’s weapon, and aimed it more or less at the target .

  “Okay, Bill. Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’ll probably miss the target, because we haven’t lined up the shot. But that’s okay. It won’t be the only time you miss the target, I promise you. What I want you to do is fire a shot, but not until I tell you too.

  “I think after you fire a round, you’ll find the recoil is nowhere as bad as you think it is. And when you realize that, you can stop worrying about it. Then it’ll be easier for you to learn everything else. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Good. Now keep your finger off the trigger and listen closely to my instructions. Keep your left hand on the front hand guards but let me steer the weapon, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  She checked the weapon’s alignment again. It was aimed more or less at the target, but would almost certainly miss it. But that was okay.

  She looked down range. It was still clear. That was no surprise, since the only other person at the range with them was Tony Martinez. And he was watching them from the range monitor’s post above and behind them.

  “Okay, you ready?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Okay. Place your finger gently on the trigger. Just like I showed you. With the first pad of your finger.

  “Very good.

  “Now take a deep breath and exhale half it. Hold the rest in.

  “Very good.

  “Now, then. Don’t squeeze the trigger. Instead, just gently pull your finger straight back.”

  He closed his eyes, winced, and fired.

  The bullet flew true, clipping the outer edge of the dinner plate sized target fifty feet away.

  Bill opened his eyes, smiled and said, “Hey! That wasn’t so bad.”

  “Yeah. I kinda told you that.”

  -14-

  “Now what?” Bill asked.

  He was no longer afraid of the rifle’s recoil, and anxious to move on to the next step.

  But first, he wanted to know about the first shot.

  “Did I hit it? Did I hit it?”

  “Yes, Bill. Just barely, but you hit it.”

  “So that counts as one of my shots, right?”

  Scarlett sighed.

  “Yes. That counts as one of your shots.”

  He’d been bugging Scarlett of late to take him along on one of her hunting trips.

  She made a deal with him.

  “We have to work on your shooting skills first,” she’d said. “I’m going to start taking you to the range every few days. Each time I take you I’m going to let you fire twenty rounds. First at a plate sized target, then at a smaller target, then at a moving target.

  “When you can hit the target ten times out of twenty, I’ll take you hunting with me.”

  “Oh, boy!”

  Bill was overjoyed. He’d fired one shot and it hit the target. Not because he was skilled, but because Scarlett had done a pretty good job of lining up the barrel blind. It was more luck than anything. But Bill wasn’t going to quibble about the details.

  “Okay,” she said. “Now, do you remember what I showed you about sight alignment?”

  “Yeah. I think so.”

  “Okay. Go ahead and line up the front and rear sights.”

  “Okay.”

  “Can you see the target behind your sights?”

  “Yeah. But it’s all blurry.”

  “That’s okay. You can’t focus your eyes on all three things at once. Move your sights until they’re dead center on the target. Be sure you keep the sights lined up.”

  “Wow, this is hard!”

  “Relax. Don’t fight it. Just chill and it’ll happen.”

  She paused for a few seconds.

  “Okay. I think I got it.”

  “Okay. Remember how I had you fire before?”

  “I think so. But can you remind me again?”

  “Take a deep breath and let half of it out. Hold the rest. Put the pad of your finger on the trigger. Then focus on those sights. Be sure the sights are lined up, and when you see the center of the target in the background, gently pull your finger back.”

  He fired, and started to stand up.

  She placed her hand on the weapon and made sure it was still pointing down range.

  “Whoa,” she said. “Where are you going?”

  “I shot it. I really shot it. I wanna see if I hit it.”

  “Stay where you’re at, Bill. That’s why we brought our spotter, remember?”

  Bill yelled up to Tony Martinez, “Did I hit it, Mr. Tony? Did I?”

  Tony had been watching the target through field glasses. He lowered them from his face and said, “I’m afraid not, Bill. You went a little high and wide.”

  He tried to temper his words, but Bill was still crushed.

  Scarlett could see it on his face.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Scarlett. I tried, I really really did.”

  “I know you did, Bill. And it’s okay. You’ll get better. All you did was to let your sights creep away from the target. Or you let them get out of alignment. You need some more practice is all. You’re too tense, and you need to learn to relax while you’re shooting. You’ll get it. Now then, are you ready to take your next shot?”

  “Yes ma’am. I think so.”

  “Okay. Do you have any questions about what to do first?”

  “I line up the front and rear sights?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “And then put them in the middle of the target?”

  “Correct.”

  “Then take a deep breath and let half of it out?”

  “Right.”

  “Then pull the trigger, but don’t squeeze it?”

  “That’s correct. Go ahead and try it, and try to relax a little.”

  He took his time, and this time when he fired he remained in his stance.

  Tony called out and said, “It was close, but he nicked the edge. It’s a hit.”

  Bill smiled and called out, “Yay! I did that all by myself, Mr. Tony!”

  He called back, “Good job, Bill. Now see if you can do it again.”

  He missed the next three shots.

  “I don’t know what happened, Miss Scarlett. Every time I think everything is lined up something moves.”

  She told him to pause and take a break.

  “Bill, shooting is like riding a skateboard. The first time you ride it, you fall off. But every single time you ride it, you get a little bit better at it.”

  “Um… I don’t know how to ride a skateboard, Miss Scarlett.”

  “Okay, a bicycle then.”

  “I don’t know how to ride a bicycle either.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Okay. We’ll worry about teaching you how to ride a bike later. My point is, shooting a gun isn’t just something you can be an expert at right away. It takes a little bit of practice.”

  “So that’s why you’re starting me out on the big target?”

  “That’s correct. When you can put twenty rounds into a plate-sized target at fifty feet I’ll know you have the fundamentals down, Then we’ll move to a smaller target.”

  “Miss Scarlett?”

  “Yes sir?”

  “Do you really think I can do this?”

  “Yes, Bill. I know you can. I have faith in you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “Wow. I don’t think anybody

  has ever had faith in me before.”

  -15-

  “There!” Scott announced with great fanfare. “That’s the last one.”

  “Looks kind of ugly if you ask me,” Becky said.

  “It’s not supposed to be pretty. It’s supposed to be functional.”

  The two were in the kitchen, admiring the Faraday enclosure Scott had just built around the microwave.

/>   Well, Scott was admiring it.

  Becky was less than impressed.

  Sara wandered in, carrying Christopher on her hip.

  “What in hell is that?”

  Scott answered, “What does it look like, smarty pants?”

  “It looks like a box fairy flew over and pooped on the counter top. Seriously, what is it?”

  “It’s an enclosure for the microwave.”

  “Like the enclosure you built around the control center?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Okay, I’m curious. You and Jordan never really explained the logic behind the cages you’ve built around everything. Exactly how does your new contraption protect the microwave from another EMP storm?”

  “Well, to be completely honest, Sara, I’m not positive it will protect the microwave. I hope it does, but I can’t say for sure.”

  “Pardon me for saying so, but you invested a lot of time and energy for a ‘maybe.’”

  “I know.”

  “So how does it work, anyway?”

  “The box is made of plywood, a little bit bigger than the microwave. The outside of the box is covered with sheet metal, which will theoretically shield the microwave from the EMP. Provided the door is shut. In theory, if the EMP can’t penetrate the box it’ll just dance around it until it dissipates.”

  “So every time I heat up a bowl of soup I have to shut the door to the box while it’s cooking?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about the cord coming out of the back of the box and plugged into the wall? Can’t the EMP fry the cord and get to the microwave that way?”

  “It’s possible. That’s why I’m not one hundred percent sure this will work. I think it will, but there’s really no way to know until we get hit again.

  “It’s also why I put a fused surge suppressor behind the microwave. Hopefully if the EMP does enter the box through the cord, it’ll go no farther than the surge suppressor. After all, that’s what an EMP is… a power surge.

  “Most of all I’m hoping we don’t get hit again. I hope the sun’s finished messing with us.”

  “Well, that’s something I think we all agree on.”