Polar Storm Read online

  “What’s that for?”

  “There is no garbage pickup in this township. When you have trash or garbage, you take it to the dump. It’s open all day on Wednesdays,” Trudeau said, hiding a chuckle.

  

  Parker wandered from room to room after the two older men had left, getting his own feel for the place. He stopped in the bathroom to urinate and flushed the toilet, smiling at the normalcy and not noticing the bucket of water on the floor.

  He rummaged through the cupboards, finding plenty of non-perishable foods, and fixed a box of mac and cheese. Once he noticed there wasn’t a dishwasher, he decided to keep dirty dishes to a minimum and ate it from the pan.

  He also found the shelf with four, full oil lamps and two bottles of lamp oil. He set them on the table for later, along with a box of matches.

  He plucked a beer from the odd-looking refrigerator and stepped outside. On the wide porch, he sat down in one of the two new wooden rockers and grinned over his good fortune. This would be his best vacation ever. There was a light warm breeze that actually smelled … clean. He heard birds chirping and saw a deer step into the edge of the clearing a hundred yards away. It was something he had to share. He pulled out his smartphone and speed-dialed his best friend. The screen remained blank and for the first time, he noticed he didn’t have any cell service.

  Chapter Three

  Donald David Worthington III took a deep breath before opening the door to his father’s room. His father was Donald; he had always gone by David to save confusion. Donald was still sleeping, the covers gently rising and falling with each breath, and David quietly backed out.

  David turned 15 two weeks after he graduated from college with his Master’s Degree in computer science, a second major in History. He loved history; anything and everything that happened before fascinated him. David was not only highly intelligent, he was smart, and smart enough to know history wouldn’t get him a job when the time came.

  In their mid-40s when David was born, a surprise but welcomed pregnancy, Sarah and Donald Worthington were distant parents; however, they loved their son deeply. She was a college professor and taught English at the nearby university and her husband, an electrical engineer, owned his own business and usually worked from home. Both professions came in handy when they noticed David’s unusually high intelligence and pulled him out of mainstream school to homeschool, much to the relief of David’s teachers. At seven years old, while his classmates struggled with double-digit multiplication, he had sped through algebra and was deep into calculus. Sarah would leave David with a list of assignments each day and go to work. He was usually done by noon and would spend the rest of his time on the computer, content in his solitude. He was a quiet and exceptionally well-mannered child.

  When David was twelve, Sarah enrolled him in college; he graduated at fourteen and finished his Masters a year later. He was fifteen when Sarah got sick. They sold their house in the city and moved to their summer camp in the woods, hoping the clean air would help her recover. She was gone two months later from liver failure. Since she was a non-drinker, the doctors were baffled. Donald fell into a deep depression which eventually led to early onset dementia. He was only in his early 60s.

  

  “Come on, Dad, time to get up.” David gently shook his father’s shoulder. “We have to leave soon.”

  At seventeen, David was shouldering a great deal of responsibility. He tried to care for his ill father, but it was just too much for the young man. The family doctor agreed that Donald would be better off in a nursing home where he could get the care and attention he needed. The arrangements were made. It was time to leave.

  David had his mother’s black hair and light blue eyes and was tall for his age, already at six foot, although he still had the youthful face of a teenager. His father had taught him to drive the Jeep as soon as he could reach the pedals. Getting a driver’s license wasn’t a problem, but being old enough to make legal decisions was. David solved that by hacking into the DMV, changing his birth year, and issuing himself a replacement license. He was now legally 21, when it was necessary, like today.

  The nervous teenager drove his father to the Superior Home for the Aging and led him to the check in.

  “We have the paperwork ready, per your doctor’s orders. All we need is your signature, and the release for the funds.” The clerk looked away. It was always difficult for the family to give up the social security benefits. Sometimes it was substantial as in this case; other times it was meager. It balanced out in the end, and the home accepted whatever the amount was as payment in full.

  David signed his name, handing over his new and fake driver’s license so they could copy it for their files. They, in turn, gave him a packet that explained the care his father would be given and visiting hours.

  Weeks earlier, during a rare lucid moment, Donald had given David the passwords to the banking and helped set up the transfer of Sarah’s pension into David’s account, so the boy would be taken care of and the Home would get only the SS. The modest savings account that held the proceeds from the sale of the house in town and her life insurance was also moved into David’s name.

  David, in turn, set up auto-bill pay to keep the house and car insurance going, plus his father’s life and medical insurances, the property taxes also stayed paid, and what few utilities the modern off-grid house would generate. He was matter-of-fact and precise. Still, he was only a 17-year-old boy, and was also now alone. He went home and cried for an hour.

  

  Pythagoras, a long-haired black and gray tiger-striped Maine Coon cat, jumped into David’s lap and pawed gently at his chin, waking him up.

  “Hey there, buddy, did I forget to feed you this morning? Sorry, I had a few things on my mind.” David rubbed the five-year-old cat’s head and received a loud purr for his attention. David gently set the cat on the floor and shuffled to the kitchen. Both cat dishes were empty, and he quickly refilled one with dry food and the other with the last small can of wet food.

  Realizing that he too was getting hungry, he opened the refrigerator and stared at the near-empty shelves. “Well, crap. I guess I’ll have to go shopping soon.” He took the last small pizza out of the freezer and turned on the oven. While it was heating, David sat down at the small kitchen table and started a list. Then he flipped the page and started a second list.

  “You know something, Thag? I’m glad now Mom involved me with all the chores that need doing on a regular basis. First thing will be to refill the fridge and the pantry. And I need to check the propane level; maybe I’ll do that right now.” He stood and walked out the back door, leaving the list behind, and carefully closing the door so his beloved house cat, and only companion, didn’t get out.

  

  The next morning, with lists in hand, David took the jeep back into the city. In Walstroms parking lot, he made his first phone call.

  “This is Donald Worthington in Three-Shoes. I’m down to ten percent on my propane tank so I need a refill, and I’d like to set up a keep-fill account.” David thanked her and disconnected after giving the clerk the account number. He sighed, knowing with a thousand gallon tank, it was going to be a big bill this time. A keep-fill will make sure he didn’t have to call often, if ever, and the bills wouldn’t be as shocking. It was enough of a shock to see the tank so low, and it was increasingly obvious that many things had slipped past as his father declined.

  His second call was to the nursing home.

  “I know it’s only been a day, but I’d like to know how my father is adjusting,” he said to the receptionist, who then transferred him to a nurse.

  “Mr. Worthington was a bit agitated yesterday; however, he’s much better this morning, and is calmly looking out the window of his room,” she explained. “He did ask about Sarah and wondered where she was.”

  “That’s my mom. She passed away two ye
ars ago,” David explained.

  “I see. Perhaps you can come by later for a short visit. We normally discourage visits so soon, but in this case, it might help him to see someone familiar.”

  

  “Hi, Dad,” David said, sitting down in the chair across from his father. “This is a really nice room.” Silence. “Are they treating you well?” More silence. “What did you have for dinner last night?”

  “Who are you, young man?” his father asked, and the day went downhill from there.

  

  Back in Walstroms parking lot, David rested his forehead on the steering wheel and pulled himself together. There was nothing he could do about his father, and logically he knew that the nursing home was the best place for him. That fact didn’t assuage his growing guilt.

  He wandered around the big superstore and filled his cart with cat food and litter; frozen pizzas; hot dogs, hamburger, bread and sandwich meats; toilet paper and clothes soap. To take the edge off the day, he picked out a small rib-eye steak, a baked potato from the deli, and then selected a bottle of wine and a six-pack of beer. At the checkout, he was, of course, asked for proof of age, which he handed over.

  “I know I look young, and I can’t wait for my face to catch up with the rest of me,” he lamented to the sales clerk, who checked the picture and scanned the chipped license with a compassionate shrug. David slipped his debit card into the reader and punched in his pin number. Outside, he put his groceries in the backseat of the jeep with a satisfied grin.

  After a leisurely dinner, David sat on the front porch with a beer, enjoying the warm evening breeze.

  A quarter of a mile away, Parker was doing the same.

  Chapter Four

  Parker had been at the cabin for almost two weeks and had driven to town nearly every other day, mostly for something to do with the excuse of needing dinner.

  “I think I need to laundry soon,” he said aloud, sniffing his cleanest T-shirt and wincing, “or buy more clothes.” He put all of his clothes in his suitcase and set it in the back of the truck. Next, he poured some semi-warm water into the kitchen sink and used a washcloth to wipe his armpits and chest. “How in the hell did these guys get clean out here?” He tossed the wet rag aside and left to find a laundromat.

  

  “Excuse me, can you show me how to use this machine?” Parker smiled at the older woman behind the counter who had changed his bills into quarters. She smirked and stepped from behind the work station, showed him how to sort his clothes, sold him laundry detergent, and then explained the process.

  “Have you never done your own laundry before?” she asked in shock. Her nametag said Alice.

  “No, Alice, I haven’t. Our housekeeper has always done that,” he confessed. “Now I live alone and I’m finding I have a lot to learn. I appreciate your patience.” Too bad I can’t ask her how to take a shower in a house with no water, he thought.

  “The most important things to remember after sorting your clothes, is to never overfill the washer or the clothes won’t come clean; they need room to agitate. And never overfill the dryer or nothing will dry; they need room to tumble.”

  

  Parker hung his freshly washed and dried clothes in the closet and set his underwear and socks in the dresser, pleased he learned how to do something new today. It was an even bigger accomplishment to him than when he figured out the bucket of water beside the toilet was to refill the tank, allowing him to flush normally whenever he needed. By refilling the tank, he found it didn’t need nearly as much water as when he dumped the water directly into the bowl and therefore didn’t have to hand-pump as often. He was quickly gaining an appreciation for modern plumbing.

  It was still early in the day, so he heated some more water on the small burner and when it was fairly warm, he set it into the bathtub. After stripping off his dirty clothes, he sat in the tub, the bucket between his knees and poured a cup full of the warm liquid over his head and lathered his hair, pouring more to rinse. Parker tipped his head back, eyes closed, relishing the hot water running down his back. When he opened his eyes, he spotted a flat pan on a high shelf on the wall that should have had faucets. Curious, he stood and examined it, wondering why he hadn’t noticed it before. The shelf was about six inches above his head when he stood.

  The metal pan was approximately eight inches deep, 12 inches wide, and 18 inches long, with a threaded pipe at the bottom edge in the center. He got on a stepstool that was oddly nearby and looked into the pan, finding a standard shower head lying inside. Parker grinned when he realized what he was looking at, and screwed the shower attachment to the pipe threads. He then took the half pail of warm water and poured it into the pan, opened the valve on the shower head, and laughed out loud while he took his first gravity-fed, off-grid shower.

  

  Refreshed with clean clothes and a clean body, Parker set his laptop on the small wooden kitchen table and pulled up the file marked Learning. He figured if he really was going to write a book, or at least an essay, about living off-grid, he should be making notes about each new thing he learned and then decided he should add how he felt about the experience. The list was getting longer and for the first time he could recall, he was also experiencing earned pride in himself. He added that too.

  

  The Worthington homestead set a short distance from the logging road that led only to the next camp over. David’s father explained that by placing their house closer to the road meant less snow to plow in the winter and that since there was only one other place on the road, the traffic would be non-existent or at the least minimal. David’s logical mind appreciated the thought process, yet couldn’t help but notice how frequent that new blue truck drove by. Traffic had certainly picked up.

  As he was contemplating this observation, the truck drove past again, and he heard it stop. Curious, he wandered down his hidden drive to find the truck sitting idly by the side.

  David had always been a curious child, but he was also a shy one. He turned back toward his house, and then stopped. A small war raged inside of him. Logically, he understood needing to break out of his old habits, and it was difficult to take that first step; habits that were okay when he was with his parents. Now that his mother was dead and his father in a home, things needed to change. David needed to change. He resolutely walked over to the truck a few yards away and tapped on the window.

  Parker jumped in his seat, startled by the presence of another person. He breathed easier when he saw it was only a kid and rolled down his window.

  “Damn! You scared me,” Parker said to the tall, black-haired boy.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” David apologized, wondering if this encounter was the right thing to do. “I saw you stopped and wondered if you were having car trouble.”

  “Oh, no trouble, I’m just trying to find a cellphone signal without having to go all the way to town,” he confessed.

  “Oh, cell coverage doesn’t exist this far out. By the way, I’m David, your next-door neighbor,” he offered his hand.

  “Hi, I’m Parker, and thanks. I guess I’ll have to get used to making all my calls when I go to town.” He hesitated. “Say, if you’re ever inclined, stop over. I’m just …”

  “I know where your house is: Mr. Smith’s place,” David interrupted. “I was sorry to hear he died; he was a nice guy. Are you a relative?”

  “No, I’m not related to Smith; my stepdad bought the cabin for me, to do research.” After being alone for a month, Parker seemed to be noticing more and more about people, and there was something different about this kid, besides the long black ponytail. “You live here with your folks?”

  “Yeah, I live with my dad. Well, it was nice to meet you, Parker; maybe I will stop over some time.” David hurriedly turned up his drive and once inside the house, he locked the doors, something he’d never done before. He
sat for a few moments with Pythagoras in his lap, examining his anxiety, and realized it wasn’t that he didn’t trust Parker; he didn’t even know him. It was simple: he didn’t want anyone to know he lived alone now. Genius or not, seventeen and alone could still mean foster care.

  

  When he was in town earlier doing his laundry, Parker had asked the woman at the counter where the public library was. The directions she had given him were precise and he found it without a problem.

  “Hi, do I need a password to log in and use your internet?” Parker asked the young woman at the book counter.

  She smiled warmly at him. “No, we do prefer you have a library card though.” She handed him a short form to fill out, while brushing her long auburn hair over her shoulder and blinking her thick lashes over her deep blue eyes.

  “Thank you … Karlie,” Parker read her nametag.

  “Are you new to the area?” Karlie asked.

  “Yes, I recently moved to Three-Shoes, out in the woods. I don’t get internet out there; I don’t even get cell service,” he replied to her obvious flirts. Parker was a good-looking, clean-cut guy, and had been hit on enough times to recognize the signals. He handed back the simple form.

  “Welcome to the area …” she glanced down, “… Parker. I’m Karlie Coates. If there’s anything you need or want in the area, I’d be happy to help you with that.”

  Parker grinned. “I’ll keep that in mind, Karlie.”

  If there was one thing he had learned in college, it was how to do research. Parker set up his laptop in a quiet corner and logged into the library Wi-Fi, quickly dismissing the flirtatious Karlie Coates.

  Before he had left downstate for this adventure, Parker had joined an internet group on off-grid living and explained what he was doing. The support and suggestions were overwhelming and mostly irrelevant to his needs, but he logged into the group when he could and read the postings. Currently, what came up the most, because of the season, was gardening; he quickly read through the posts and made some notes about container gardening and raised beds. Next, he did a search on those topics and made a decision to try his hand at growing a few things, on a small scale.