Agoraphobia

Day 24 (Sixteen More)

In the morning, Uncle Peter and I drove back to New Athens to rescue more people.

Uncle Peter decided to save a total of forty-five people. This was an arbitrary number, of course. It could have just as easily been forty-one or forty-eight or whatever. But Uncle Peter felt he needed a specific limit. Otherwise, he might have fallen victim to a "just one more" mind-set and wound up burdened with too many refugees. Thirty seemed too low. Sixty, too high. Forty-five was the compromise.

With the addition of his two neighbors and his wife's parents, Uncle Peter and I now had a total of twenty-nine agoraphobic refugees living on the farm.

That meant Uncle Peter could select another sixteen...

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Before the peak, Uncle Peter was leader of a Girl Scout troop. The troop was small, consisting of Uncle Peter's older daughter (Sarah), two other girls, and a boy named Jack Durbbing. Jack was Sarah's twelve-year-old friend. Jack was a science fiction fan, a game enthusiast, and enjoyed the company of girls more than boys. Uncle Peter understood him.

Jack lived with his mother (Catherine), his sister (Ashley), and Ashley's baby daughter (Hannah). We moved all four to the farm.

That left twelve...

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Sandra Easton was an eleven-year-old member of Uncle Peter's Girl Scout troop. She was bright, but painfully shy. Her mother, Jodi, volunteered at the Girl Scout meetings. Jodi was not the sharpest tack on the corkboard, but she tried hard. Sandra's older brother, David, was a shy, lanky fourteen-year-old science enthusiast. He had the slim, boneless body of a ferret and aspirations to be the next Bill Nye. We liked him. The three of them lived with Jodi's boyfriend, Anthony Fairall. We didn't know much about him, except he was an appliance repairman. We moved all four to the farm.

That left eight...

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Donna McKenzie was a twenty-one-year-old agricultural student. Her stepmother, Holly, was a midwife. Donna's father, Martin, was a retired farm hand turned stay-at-home father. Donna had a little brother, Marty, aged nine, and a little sister, Brenda, aged seven. They had a puppy named "Bender" (Donna named him after the "Futurama" character).

Uncle Peter invited the whole family to Elwood's.

"I hope that includes Bender," coaxed Donna.

"I'm sorry, but no," answered Uncle Peter gravely.

The two children gasped. I sighed internally.

"Why?" asked Holly.

"There might not be enough food to feed everyone," reasoned Uncle Peter. "We can't afford to bring pets."

"I agree with that policy," conceded Donna. "But Bender is not just a pet. He's a work animal. He's a 'Pyrenees Mountain Dog'. It's a type of intimidating livestock guardian bred to scare off predators. They're sometimes called 'chicken dogs'."

"He doesn't LOOK intimidating," observed Uncle Peter, peering down at the small, white ball of fluff with big paws.

"Not now. But in another year, he'll be quite intimidating to foxes, coyotes, and wolves."

I regarded Donna for a few moments and concluded the young woman was either blowing smoke up Uncle Peter's ass like a pro, or she really knew her stuff. Either way, she deserved a reward.

"Excellent!" I cut in before Uncle Peter had a chance to argue, "Bender can come."

The whole family blew out a sigh of relief.

Uncle Peter shrugged.

We moved all five humans and the "chicken dog" to the farm. 

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That left three...

Colin Strause was Uncle Peter's daughters' twenty-five-year-old music teacher. His wife, Gina, was a thirty-year-old science teacher who once worked as a technician for Illinois Electric Company. Gina was five months pregnant. They were unabashed intellectual liberals who loved books more than I did. We moved both of them and a ton of baby paraphernalia to the farm.

That left one...

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Vinny Golia, if you'd recall, was the man trapped in the water treatment plant's control room. Uncle Peter wanted to bring him along to Elwood's to thank him for his help during his efforts to keep the town alive. During that whole time, Vinny never once asked for special consideration, nor showed selfish concern for himself. He only cared about helping Uncle Peter help others. Uncle Peter also thought a water treatment expert might be useful on the farm.

When Uncle Peter and I entered the control room, we found Vinny dangling from the ceiling. He had hung himself with an extension cord. There was a clipboard tied to his belt. On it was a letter...

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Dear Peter,

I'm sorry, but I don't wish to go with you to the farm. Two years ago, my wife died from cancer. All my other relatives are in Nevada and are most likely dead.

Frankly, the only thing keeping me alive this long was knowing you needed me to purify the water. But since you're moving to the farm, you don't need me anymore. Not really.

Attached to this letter is a four page, hand-written "Dummies Guide" to purifying water on a farm. I hope you find it useful.

You're a good man, Peter. I wish you the best of luck.

- Vinny Golia

P.S. You said you could only bring forty-five people with you because there was limited number of rooms on the farm. I would ask that you please give my room to a worthy family.

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It was late. So Uncle Peter and I drove to our new home silently.

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