Marigold by Heather Manheim (best books for 8th graders .TXT) 📕

my life. I missed him, and I was worried about him,” she said with a smile toward Ringo. “He is just as much a part of my family as my family in Canada.” At this, Ringo grabbed Josie’s hand and raised it in the air, giving it sort of a shake and closing his fist over hers, holding it up as if in victory and triumph.

“How will you get back, or are you going back?” asked Quinn, who had recently come over and sat down with everyone else.

“I’m not sure if I will. At least, for a while. But, if and when I do, I’ll go back the same way I came in. Unless life changes for you guys, then we’ll see. I also have those connections to Tara and the aerospace industry. All I have to do is get back into Canada, and then I can get picked up by airplane if need be. As you know, we didn’t lose our freedom as you guys unfortunately did.”

“Well, now, how did you get past the border, exactly?” asked Brookshire.

“Well, Chris got me as close to the border as possible, and for two nights in a row, I watched shift changes and if there was a time that the Drone Scanners were more likely to fly over. I also found a pathway, I don’t know how it got there, but it was a few miles east of the actual border. Tall trees pretty well covered it, and lots of bushes surrounded it, so it would be difficult for a Drone Scanner to penetrate to get a scan. More importantly, I noticed a big gap in guard coverage between 1 a.m. and 2 a.m. I waited until a little past one in the morning, and then I ran for it.”

“Interesting,” Brookshire said as he lightly scratched his chin as if he was trying to think about something simultaneously as he was talking. “At any rate, you made it; that’s great. What did you do after the crossing?”

“Well, once I got into what was previously Washington, I traveled to a safe house. Then, I went to a wonderful place just outside what used to be Portland, Oregon. It’s called Teeterville. It’s a haven for people traveling—it’s great. They have a pretty basic kind of circular bunker carved out into a huge mountainside. The dining hall and kitchen are in the middle, and all around the outside edge are about thirty old hollowed out VW Bug vans that have a mattress, blankets, pillows…those are the bedrooms. It affords privacy while maximizing space for as many beds as possible. The couple that run it, Mark and Tamara, brew their own beer, make wine, and hold concerts in the middle courtyard at least once a month. They have an amazing hydroponic garden too. I imagine if I hadn’t wanted to come here so badly, I would have stayed there as long as they’d have me!”

Josie continued telling them that Mark and Tamara mostly catered to traveling guests, but their kids and grandkids lived there and a few neighbors who had lost the ability to stay on their own. Josie also told them how surprised they’d be by how many people were not following the “rules.” They either live in bunkers or their old houses, even. There are even hidden caches filled with water, first aid kits, dehydrated foods, fishing poles—as long as you know what rocks to look for, you can know where to dig and get a quick supply fix if you need it.

“The rocks to look for?” Ringo looked confused, yet interested.

“Yes, it’s a smart system. Since you’re walking in rural areas, you look for the yellow and black “Deer Crossing” signs and then a large black rock about ten steps away from the road. Then you dig. They’re not at every sign, but at enough of them, and it’s supposed to be emergency supplies, right?”

Davis spoke up with curiosity on her face, “And you said something about sometimes people live in their old homes? Weren’t privately owned houses outlawed? Even had all water, electricity, and services like trash, cut off?”

“Yes, they were,” answered Josie. “But, a lot of them are self-sufficient as far as having gardens or well access that was never closed off. Many operate on a barter system. Maybe the house two miles away has a potato supply but no eggs, but their neighbor has chickens and eggs. And another neighbor has managed to keep up a strawberry and herb patch. And another person they know in the next neighborhood has a stream nearby that still provides fish. I guess they live somewhat of a pioneer life, but it works for them. Naturally, they’ve been outfitted with solar panels to provide electricity, and outhouses are back in vogue!”

“Don’t they worry about getting caught?” asked Brookshire. “I mean, they are risking a lot, aren’t they?”

“Yes, in one way, but they’re all off the beaten path. These people were on the outskirts before anything ever happened. And they keep quiet, not calling attention to themselves; they don’t hold anti-government rallies or anything. And, as you know, the Lombardi Plague decimated the population. While the Security Patrols and the Drone Scanners pick up some slack for the lack of Patrols—there just aren’t enough people to enforce. So, if you keep quiet, they mostly let you be. If they are even aware of where you are, that is.”

Davis was perplexed about this, the thought of people living on the outskirts, not following the rules, but getting away with it. It also occurred to her that these people were not scanning in at Pods and getting sent to medical for monthly vaccinations yet were not getting ill. They were living perfect everyday lives from what she understood from Josie. Or at least as routine as could be under the current circumstances. She was also intrigued by this place, Teeterville, that Josie had mentioned. It sounded like quite an exciting place, a refuge for tumultuous times.

September 16,