First a trickle (Cumberland Saga)

 

Tennessee regulations are 15 White Bass per angler per day.

Gregor’s phone gave a discrete cricket-chirp. He had a text “Hey, whatchya doing”.

Gregor looked at the sender and saw that it was Deputy Canina.
 

“I am watching the news” Gregor responded. In fact, the work for the day had taken a dramatic turn and Sig had relented his rule about “no phones”, at least for the day.

“Wanna go fishin?” Canina texted back.

Gregor scratched his head, deep in thought. She might have more news than he did. That, and she was cute and Gregor didn't know any other local girls who were over-18 and single. OK, he knew a few, but they all had kids and weren't the kind of people that would fit-in at Copperhead Cove.

“What time?” Gregor texted back.

“How about now?” Canina texted.

“Don’t you have to be at work?” Gregor asked.

“Not a problem” Canina texted. “White Bass are running” 

Gregor wondered how the fact that the White Bass were running had anything to do with her not being at work but decided to not worry about it.

“Sure! Do I need to pick up tackle?” Gregor asked.

“Nope. I got extra. Just bring a sharp knife to help clean them. When they are hitting we can about fill the boat” Canina said.

In for a dime. In for a dollar.

Gregor hunted down Sig and told him “I got a date for the rest of the evening.”

Sig frowned. It seemed like a frivolous thing when everybody was making preparations for guests.

“We are going fishing. She says the White Bass are running” Gregor told his dad. “That, and she might have more info about what is happening.”

“...fishing” was the magic word. Sig loved a hearty meal of fried fish and Gregor knew that.

“Don’t throw none back” Sig told his son. White Bass weren’t considered a prime eating-fish because they have big, knobby bones and never seemed to have as much meat on them as you would guess. Part of the issue is that there was a lot of meat between the rib-bones that was left behind if the cook filetted them. The frugal cook cooked them bone-in and let the diners lift the bones out of the tender, flaking fish with their forks at the table.

***

Fred, Brittany and their three kids pulled into the drive leading up to Copperhead Cove at 8:47 PM local time. 30 feet from the public road there was a tree-trunk the size of a typical utility pole across the drive and a sign that read “Honk three times for service”.

Fred shrugged and laid on the horn. Half-second on the horn, count of two off. Three times. Then they waited.

Aunt Alice came sauntering down the drive about five minutes later. It was at that awkward time when the headlights just came on, blinding Alice while she was clearly visible to Fred and Brittany.

Alice scuttled off to the driver’s side of the vehicle, out of the vehicle’s beams. She was immediately invisible to the people inside the vehicle.

Twenty seconds later, there was a tapping on Fred’s window. He powered it down.

Alice was standing just a bit behind Fred and he had to twist to an uncomfortable degree to look at her.

Alice opened the conversation with “Who are you? How are you family? What did you bring?”

Fred shot a quick glance at Brittany before returning his attention to Alice. “We are the Fred-and-Brittany Yeager family most recently of Cincinnati, Ohio. I am your great-nephew, once-removed. We brought enough food to last until September, buckets of nails-and-deck screws, solar panels and a 1000’ roll of ¾” poly-pipe.”

Brittany leaned over and added. “And we had load of steel-roofing delivered about a month ago.

Alice referred to spiral notebook. “OK. You are good. Drive to the top of the hill. You will be told where to park. Don’t bother unpacking anything except for what you need tonight. Sarah has a big pot of stew and fresh biscuits if you are hungry.”

“Just out of curiosity, what would have happened if we tried to ram our way in?” Fred asked.

Alice looked across the bed of the truck. “Roger, show them where you are.”

A light went on on that Fred could see in his passenger-side, outside rear-view mirror. The light was pointed at the ground.

“Roger has a new toy, an AR pattern rifle with accessory rails. He is itching to try it out.” Alice told them.

Fred triangulated in his head. Roger could hose the entire cab of the truck from behind and Alice could move back away further out of the line-of-fire or duck down….

How the hell had Roger been able to get behind them without being seen?

Roger stayed where he was with his light still illuminating the ground.

Alice went to one end of the log and fiddled with it, then she pushed the end horizontally towards Fred’s truck until it was clear of the drive. In the faint, dying light of the sun, Fred was able to discern that the log was counter-weighted and the pivot was at the center-of-gravity.

Simple and effective.

At the top of the hill, Fred was directed to park next to another truck-and-trailer with a 10’ gap between them.

In the last shreds of the western glow of the setting sun, Fred, Brittany, the twins and “caboose” grabbed their bags and lugged them to the building that had been identified as “Sarah’s house”.

One other family was finishing up their meal as they came into the kitchen. After perfunctory introductions, the other family left and Sarah dished out stew and pulled a sheet of biscuits out of the oven. Brittany gave Fred the side-eye and told him “She threw those into the oven when we honked.” Fred didn’t know enough to dispute her.

The family’s evacuation from Covington had been ass-over-tea-kettle and they had not stopped for food. They were all famished. The food was hot and filling and if there were a few more carrots and a bit more black pepper than his preference, Fred was not going to complain.

“Did you bring any sleeping bags?” Sarah asked as they were slowing down.

“We have blankets” Brittany answered.

“This time of year the nights are either rainy or cold” Sarah apprised them of the situation. “You have a choice of bunking in one of the greenhouses, which will be warm but humid, or you can bunk under an awning in the open.

Brittany said “Greenhouse.” without any hesitation.

The family slept fitfully as the sounds of honking horns and slamming doors interrupted their sleep. They woke up at first light in the greenhouse amidst the smell of red cedar, humus, herbs and tomato plants.

They woke up stiff and sore but the smells of fresh coffee and frying fish beckoned them.