By Thomas Sherry
From a comparatively basic American existence to a survival state of affairs in moments, this tale follows the Drummond family members as they discover ways to adapt to a now, very diverse group. . .and international. starting on a sour chilly January evening, the tale starts with a seri
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Still, I was obliged to take a look around the neighborhood. “Carl, grab the radios. We need to take a walk around and check out the neighbors. Hon, listen in on us. ” “You be careful and get back here if something doesn’t look right,” Karen said with concern. “We will. I’ll take Ada. She’s pretty good at stuff that doesn’t look right. Buck’s got too much gung-ho in him yet. ” Buck, our two-year-old golden, obviously expected to go out with his big sister (they weren’t actually related), and was eagerly looking at the door.
Thanks,” he responded sarcastically. ), and hung up the damp things to dry near the woodstove, I asked Karen what else she’d been able to give to the Moore’s, and filled another hot cup of tea. “Oh, we had those boxes of Kelly’s and Carl’s old clothes and stuff. I managed a couple off pairs of boots, three sizes of snow-suits, two coats and a couple of sweatshirts. Amy said they’d be all right with what they had on, but if they get stuck, they’d freeze to death. ” “I packed them a couple of those cans of soup with the pull-tab tops, one of the old thermoses with tea, some juice and some cheese and crackers.
It had apparently been on the two-post center lift, and flipped off in the quake. Nate would be devastated—he’d spent ten years getting all the right parts for that car. No reproductions, only all original or new-old-stock parts would do. I checked for spilled flammables, found none, and shut off the breaker panel in the shop on the way out. Outside, I found a few pieces of sheet metal left over from the shop construction, and nailed a few of them up over the windows, with Nate’s tools and nails.