Zed and Jesse stood around the kitchen table and checked their gear. Each filled water containers, Zed an old pilot’s flask and Jesse a metal GI canteen. Zed pulled some trail food from the pantry. He had an old one gallon Tupperware container full of homemade trail mix and some zip top plastic bags. Jesse looked at all the little bits in the mix as he filled two bags for himself.
“Is this your grandfather’s recipe version?”
“Kinda. It has some of the key bits. I can’t make too much at one time, or it gets a bit moldy with the humidity around here.” The mix had raisins, peanuts, chocolate chips, cranberries, and some other stuff, all in all, not much different from commercial stuff until you get to the meat. Zed’s grandfather made the trail food with small square cubes of homemade jerky, usually venison. Zed had added and subtracted elements over the years. The three things that had to be there were the cranberries, the meat and the nuts. Marta used to mix it fifty/fifty with peanut butter fudge to make trail bars, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to open her cookbook to make some.
Jesse was putting stuff in his bag when he realized Zed had zoned out and was just standing there with tears in his eyes. He knew his friend was hurting. He missed Marta as well. He had known Zed since Zed was ten years old. He had married Zed’s older sister and was out here all the time when he was able to. The trips got fewer after Karen’s death over Lockerbie all those years ago. When he got out of the military, he came back to the area and his grandfather’s land up north. The Park Service job gave him something to do, a way to not think too much. He had seen enough retirees die within five years of leaving the military because they didn’t know what to do with themselves. He was worried he was seeing this happen to Zed.
Zed had been a successful businessman, stock broker, insurance, lots of useless paper pushing that made him tons of money. He and his wife Marta had not flaunted their wealth, but did the nice house, nice car and expensive stuff thing. As the Y2K scare started to pick up, Marta had a ‘sea change’ in her thinking, and so did Zed. They started to focus more on what they needed rather than what they wanted. Marta loved it out at the cabin, away from the world as it was. She pushed Zed to renovate for the twenty-first century.
He remembers coming out here to visit Marta as she showed him all the new changes. If she hadn’t, he would have never seen them, because they were subtle. A new hundred year copper roof, painted green to look like a cheap tin roof, better supports and insulation for a new, more durable plastic water tank for the house, fed from a spring uphill through replaced and updated pipes, a bigger root cellar, a bigger pole barn with enclosed storage at one end, all of these were long term improvements that left the cabin the same, but better. The more she did out here, the more she pressured Zed to cash out and retire so they could enjoy it. They made a timeline to do so, then she got sick.
Jesse knew it was the longest five years of Zed’s life. He was right there by her side every step of the way. She could also see what it was doing to Zed and had many times talked with Jesse about not letting it kill Zed too. After Marta died, Zed had sold off most everything and moved out here. He had told Jesse it helped him feel closer to her.
“Zachariah” Nothing. “Zachariah….we have work to do. Doug needs our help. How much ammo for your 30-30 do you have with it?”
Zed seem to jump a bit at hearing his real name. “Rifle’s full, and the buttstock has seven more. Do I need more than that?”
“Probably not Zed, but make sure you have at least two mags for whatever pistol you have. Whatcha got anyway?”
“Glock in nine.”
“That should do the job. Hell, it’s good enough for SOCOM these days. It’s my old paranoia creeping in. Just like an old dog, the earthquake has me spooked.”
Zed looked down at the table where his day pack was. He watched Jesse’s nimble fingers load and organize stuff in the old leather mailman’s bag Jesse seemed to carry with him everywhere since forever. A big simple leather pouch designed to swallow huge amounts of mail for the postal workers to carry on their routes in the old days, Jesse had loops sewn in the back wall to hold magazines for his pistol. The pistol was the same one Jesse always carried, too.
As a gun guy with more money than sense, Zed had owned and or handled thousands over the years. He was always after the flavor of the week as Jesse kept picking on him. Jesse only had a few, but they were his constant companions and family heirlooms. This pistol was first owned by his great-grandfather who was a federal agent chasing the gangsters of the prohibition era. Chambered in 38 Super, it was lovingly cared for and carried by members of Jesse’s family since, as was his grandfather’s WWII bring back 1911A1 and one of Jesse’s own wartime 45s.
“Hey Jesse, is that the 38 or the 45?”
“The 38. I don’t carry the 45s as much anymore. It’s at the house on the bench next to the one Page gave me. I told you about that, right?”
“I think so, but tell me again.” He knew Jesse loved talking about his granddaughter. Jesse had gotten married again a few years after Karen’s death, but it didn’t last. It was an amicable divorce and they remained friends. They had a son, and that son had a daughter. Jesse’s Granddaughter had joined the Marines. One of Jesse’s proudest moments was watching her graduate Boot Camp. She was now working at the Marine Mountain Warfare School down in California.
“Yeah, she figured I needed one to go with the others. There were some of the original new Marine 1911 Rail guns from the first contract returned to the factory and swapped out. They later sold them to the public and she bought one for me. I now have a battle proven issue 1911 USMC Rail.” His face was glowing, as it always did when he spoke of Page.
“Well, I hope we don’t need any of them. Hopefully, everyone will be too busy with all the earthquake stuff to wander around the park too much. Winter’s coming as well so this place should get quite sleepy.”